#but if i was on that show i would NOT have cut those root vegetables lengthways

[mumblesplash]

you should go on that show where they cut things exactly in half

if you mean the german one where they're trying to perfectly split foods in half by weight you might be onto something ngl i looked up a clip of it and so far i've known which piece was heavier before they weighed it every single time

[ignisgalaxia]

With the release of Prodigy season 2, the Trek fandom finally has an answer to what Chakotay's native ancestry is. He's Nicarao, a tribe from the western region of Nicaragua who actually share a common ancestry with the Nahua Aztecs of Mexico. The show even mentions the island of Ometepe specifically, which is the largest island in Lake Nicaragua made up of two volcanoes.

The reason this is so important to me is because my dad and his family are from Nicaragua. I’ve been getting more in touch with those roots over the last year or so, and I’ve found it very frustrating how there seems to be no Nica representation in media, at least not in the mainstream. But when I found out that Chakotay was a fellow Nica, I was literally bouncing off the walls. To think, one of my favorite characters has the same ancestry as me (well, almost, but I’ll get to that later)! When I told my dad, he laughed so hard because he never would’ve imagined.

But I haven’t seen a lot of people talking about this aspect. I get it, it’s a minuscule part of the wild ride that was season 2. But I’d really like us as a fandom to discuss this more. I mean, we literally don’t have to guess what tribe he’s from anymore!

So since nobody else has come forward, I am going to claim myself as the only member of the Voyager-Prodigy fandom with actual Nicaraguan ancestry, and am making this post to give firsthand information about the Nicarao and the nation as a whole.

Firstly, some context. My dad was born in Managua, the capital of Nicaragua, and lived there with his family until he was 7. Then they fled the country due to the Contra War that was going on. My grandfather was born and raised in Bluefields, a city on the country's Carribean coast, then went to college in Mexico where he met my grandmother. Neither of them are Nicarao, and are in fact very European (the DNA tests proved it). However, when they were all living in Managua, my grandparents had a handful of maids that worked for them (they had six kids they needed some help), and a couple of them were Nicarao. Specifically, they were natives from a village in the nearby mountains. So while I don't have info on natives from Ometepe, I do have some on the people in general.

The maids lived with my dad's family during the week and would go home to their village on the weekends. They primarily spoke Spanish, but he would occasionally catch them speaking in their native tongue which I assume is Nahua.

My dad recounted a time when the maids invited the family to their village for a day trip. He said they were living in Adobe houses and had lots of livestock (cattle, chickens, goats, etc) as well as horses, which he apparently rode for the first time there. He also said most of the natives had two primary weapons: a machete to cut crops and other vegetation, and a 22 single shot rifle. They used the rifles to shoot iguanas off trees. Iguanas and iguana eggs are a delicacy in Nicaragua that the natives are experts at making.

This is a direct quote from my grandmother when I asked her about what she remembered of them:

The people I knew, they were good and hard working people. Smart, happy, funny… they really are sociable, like to talk and say jokes invented with their mind and history. The women were skillful, knew how to survive. They cooked, cleaned, planted crops and vegetables. Good merchants, they really knew how to sell and buy.

I wish I had more info to share, but unfortunately season 2 could not have been released at a worse time because my grandfather has recently begun developing Alzheimer's or some other form of dementia and has been losing his memory over the last few months. Even when my dad and I were with him in May and I asked him to recount his earlier life, he repeated himself a few times since he evidently had forgotten he'd already told us those parts. If I had known how fast he’d be deteriorating, I would’ve started my work sooner.

If I do end up learning anything more from my relatives, I’ll update the post. For now, I hope this is of some use to people. And if anyone has questions about Nicaraguan culture in general, I’ll be happy to pass them along to my dad.

[captainkurosolaire]

Cold Adversity

An expedition pair duo marched throughout a thickset forest, cutting through dense ivory vine's of verdant, one of the explorer's advanced before their partner. In that slivered-moment, a prowled predatory glare camouflaged amongst its terrain, a slithering flap of fork-tongue salivating, stalking gradually. The abandoned charter fell tripping, a stump root hidden in those lowly articles of vegetation cut-against was repaid by the disrespected nature. A struggling attempt to unbind commenced; before he-knew-it, his scream showered throughout jungle, echoing. A coiled-predator, starved Python of the native-lands, lashed. Elastic impressive mandible jaw, wallowing around the foot, devouring up towards the whole leg, cohesive poison's working to breakdown its prey for delicacy. Helplessness set in for the deplorable explorer who thought it owned anywhere it stepped. His arm's extending out to try retrieving the machete but fell distances away. Pleaded, frantically crying, it made him only easier to swallow - by designee, whole. Inevitable crept-in, no hope to be sought... Then suddenly an arm-extended out for fellow-man, pulling against the Man-Eater, a viscous tug-war ensued, his partner involuntary acted; even before emotion's formed, adhering to sheer intuition senses beyond the fifth. Climatic showdown results were destined for a scene identical, between two Death-Dealers. Killer Queen overseeing an ill-fated woman, given a clock saw again the certainty everything was dealt expiration. "I'm afraid the poison's reached her throat, it's plausible your employer Sun Shadow, may have a treatment. But you'll never make it." The effected-assassin with an unlikely flower on his garb surely must remember darkness. If untrained, wasn't disciplined to point the nerves in his face still worked, perhaps he'd frown, express sorrow, panic. Again a faint-taunt came from the Lethal-Adder with slight emotion, showing only when a Black Miracle was at their demise. Suddenly a stern-leather mandible claw, pushed at the skull still controlling the Venomous Shadow's life until he decided-otherwise, there was still life. Towards his own-displayed treacherous weapon that caused this. Hoku wasn't convinced there wasn't a salve. Steel-exposure saw him put his prey's forehead against the venom's own blade, slicing open a wound. Hydo believed the Miqo'te was attempting to torture him for information. Letting out creek evil laughter. Attempting to hide a deceitful grimace. He knew an answer. Shockingly, Hoku self-sacrificed himself on pure unexplained notion cutting himself purposefully too. "..F-fool!" Managed to bellow from the Adder. "Let's see if the poison takes root. Or you decide who hangs at your whim. I wonder, would you wield a dangerous blade despite knowing if turned against you, it'd be fatal?" Observing keenly their hand's where the poison took supposed root. Greenish-complexion would happen if-so. Stricken identical times. Fear registered in the nefarious-poisonous snake; he felt heartbeat again, seen-through his darkness-domain. That frightening-steel composure, emotions-fear, panic, all that should've set in! As most, but not this star-eyed killer. "Looks like you lose Inevitable." Both their-hands revealed truth. Hoku's poison came to pass, but Hydo's didn't. Coldly followed, withdrawing his sheathed-steel followed from his advisory as if he pulled a chosen-blade from rock, artistically brutally Geyser of red rocketed over his afflicted wound, the venomous one, blood was anti-venom. Taking the discover treatment to client's wound for mending. Shaman's symptom's dissolved, weakly her obscured vision and conscious came for a breathe, seeing multiple images of him and the flower still untainted, six-bells remaining before contract fulfilled. "Such a dark-shrouded man, coveting a world of night. Y-yet bright golden-stars for eyes. Akin to these skies, beautiful..." She befell to rest and smile. These two were gradually encountering harmony, in another.

[Prev:Chapter]: Manhunt ~ ♪"Unforgivable"♪

[ronearoundblindly]

for the comfort ask!! ☺️🫶🏻💕💕

🛎 - Someone at their beck and call + any character you want

Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader from The Root of All Ransom

ooo, big shock: warnings for cursing and sexual references (nothing explicit)! WC 1.2k

‘The Wank’ is a fucking terrible friend who Ran is more likely to set fire to than embrace if he ever sees that rat bastard again.

Oh sure, it’s all fun and games, riding ATVs around this British lord-boy’s estate until that drunk idiot cuts too close in front of his invited guest, clips the tire, and launches Ransom over the front and into some ancient stone wall. He looks like a million bucks—Million Dollar Baby, that is—with all his bruises and lacerations. At least his face is unscathed for the most part. Ran couldn’t handle being fucking ugly on top of the embarrassment of being bedridden for a couple of weeks.

It was only supposed to be a quick few days' visit before he went back to the States, but instead, he’s stuck in the Wank’s mansion while the fucking prick leaves to go do other stupid things with their other stupid friends…

Why Ran keeps thinking of these people as friends, he’s not really sure, but once the doctor—who showed up with two nurses to a sprawling estate in the middle of goddamn nowhere—tells Ransom he has to remain like a vegetable in this musty four-poster, he calls you furious.

He calls to complain loudly, but Ran knew you would come.

Even though he is anxious and pissy for the whole thirty-six hours it takes for you to handle what business you can, book transport from Beijing to London, and then get a car to drive all the way to the boonies, he thinks he’s doing reasonably well when you arrive.

In reality, he’s already cursed out every member of the household staff willing to enter his room. Ransom is a terror when sick, and no one has the luxury of him drugged during this lay-up.

You’re graciously given a room to work out of but keep your Bluetooth in your ear all day every day unless you are in bed asleep. He fucking hates it. Ran is given a bell to signal he needs something and has no ability to distinguish needs from wants when bored.

“Would you stop talking like I’m not here?” he hiss-yells as you try to go back to work one day after bringing him a tray of breakfast.

You cover the end of the device and snap back, “These are prime business hours where I am supposed to be right now. I have to stay on the phone.”

When you turn to leave, Ran hits the bell.

You face him, challenging with narrowed eyes, so he hits it again. Twice.

But you don’t take the bait and shut the door behind you.

Ran’s bored—horrifically bored—and lonely. He beats down on the bell in cacophonic irritation for a solid minute before you rage back into the room.

Your hand slaps over his on the cool metal chime.

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale,” you intone between clenched teeth, “you are abusing your bell privileges. If you do not stop, I will go back to Beijing tonight, and no one here will help you. Do you understand?”

His brow is just as angry as yours, but Ran’s lips pout. He huffs anyway, nodding his head, and after you let go of his hand, he admits quietly, “I want to go outside.”

Your face softens.

You sit by his hip, seemingly exhausted by the thought of coming all this way, acquiescing to his every whim, and returning to work. Outside the tall windows shines a lovely English morning after days and days of clouds.

Ransom watches you sigh hopefully.

“I’ll see what I can do,” you whisper, patting his knee to avoid reaching over his tray. “Do me a favor though?”

“What?” Depends on the favor so Ran promises nothing.

“Will you please use those damn wipes for something other than masturbating?”

His whole body stiffens uncomfortably.

“Even a whore’s bath will do and don’t act all innocent, Hugh! I know you,” you giggle, relishing the tease and the pink stain blossoming on his neck.

He glances over at the packet on the night stand. “A…a wh—“

“Pitties, titties, and bitties.” You stand and fail to smother your grin.

He hates this. You know he hates this. He knows you know he hates this, and yet Ran chuckles involuntarily. He knows you’ll try—knows that you are trying—to make him happy. It makes him so mad.

You’re the one with a job and a business and the money, and you’re forced to nurse him like a fucking invalid. A year ago, he would have loved this shit. Now he just feels like the fucking wanker.

He has several remaining bandages which cannot get wet, so he can’t shower. Ran can, however, get himself to the ensuite but it takes all of his energy and turns him into a ball of rage until he takes a nap.

Which is so fucking stupid, he thinks, but it’s the truth of it.

He struggles for the whole morning. He actually has to split the tasks of picking out clothes to change into, resting, using the bathroom, resting again, cleaning himself as best he can to put on boxers, resting atop the covers because he now notices the sheets smell, and then gets dressed.

He waits, puttering around social media on his phone, head shooting up to the door at any tiny noise from anywhere beyond his cage of a bed.

You come back at lunchtime, sans earpiece, and look genuinely impressed that he’s decent, which is so fucking sad that he wants to die, but he wants to go outside more.

He has to lean on you to get all the way to the lawn, fiercely focused on the blanket laid out under the closest tree, taking comically huge breaths of fresh air before collapsing when you give him the okay.

The picnic and tea are nice. The formality of the service, even though the staff only brings out the dishes and a basket of food, reminds him of Sunday brunches with Linda, so he doesn’t really fucking care about the food. He’s not really hungry.

Ran lays down flat on the grass-padded blanket and drifts to the soft rustle of leaves and birds chirping.

After who knows how long, he peels his eyes open to see the sun in a completely different spot and you still right next to him, relaxed and peering up, hands tucked behind your head.

“Hey,” he finally says to get your attention.

You shift your head, lips pulled into a squinty smile he can’t resist. “Hey, yourself. Have a good nap?”

Ran nods, getting his bearings from the murky waters of sleep. He notices you stayed. You didn’t go back to work. You didn’t trade off taking care of him. You got something you needed, too: peace and quiet, so he says the most obvious thing that comes to mind.

“You’re welcome.”

He’s rewarded with you bursting into laughter.

from this game of "Comfort My Characters"

Thank you for asking!

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @starkleila

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[oneatlatime]

The Swamp

Random thing I spotted in the opening credits: this Roku (?) silhouette is doing a spinning blade move with airbending, that Azula did with her blue fire while riding the mail system in Return to Omashu. I guess that despite the bending styles being based on different martial arts, borrowing is allowed.

A snippet of blue spirit music plays when that cart carrying the masks passes by. Maybe one second of showtime but the writers and track team put in the effort anyway.

I'm still mad at Zuko for stealing that lady's bird horse, but I'm happy to see that they're looking after it. It even has a blanky.

Those bangs would have done numbers in 2008.

So I'm wishing death on sword guy. Apart from the whole trying to cut off Iroh's feet thing, he can't even do up his shirt right. Zero redeeming features.

I wish I knew how to make gifs to show this, but the way that the diffused lightsource is reflecting off the water peaking through the vegetation of the swamp is incredibly realistic.

Is the sharpening stone the one that usually sits in the indent on the other side of the blade? It would be pretty cool to have a knife with a built in sharpener like that.

Sokka's got a point. How do you "land" on a swamp? Appa will need to break out his sea bison skills.

TIL swamps don't take no for an answer.

HOW are they still ALIVE?!?!

AcTuAlLy Aang it's "where ARE Appa and Momo?"

As someone who has literally had leeches on my elbow, this is not funny.

Also this episode's beat up Sokka quota has already been filled by a tornado, a swamp, and a vampire slug. And we're only 4 minutes in. I feel like this is going to be a rough episode for him.

Look I get that there is no solid land in this swamp, but they could at least move out of the fetid leech-infested water onto a tree root.

Shibari Appa. I ahd to google that.

Momo is a good friend.

Could you imagine what Apppa smells like after landing in the swamp water?

Poor Momo's like "dude. I JUST freed you."

Not everyone can airbend Aang. Some of us would have no option but to cut our way out of the swamp, niceness be damned.

You ever just go FWOMP?

I'm loving these little Appa & Momo scenes.

Did this episode air on Halloween originally? It's really leaning in to the spooky.

And now Appa gets to be a good friend. I love the ear twitch. Have I talked about how cute Appa's ears are?

King of the jungle Appa.

New fear unlocked. Never swimming in seaweed again.

Also kudos to them for sleeping sitting up. I can't do that.

It's neat how all three of their fighting styles are equally effective at freeing them from the vines. No bending superiority here!

How did Cletus and Brandine figure that Appa has six legs from this trail?

No comment. Just thought you'd all appreciate a picture of bowl cut Appa using an alligator as a toothbrush.

Pretty. Swamp wisteria.

This swamp is a dick.

This jumpscare got me. Also, swamp is now a double dick.

And Aang sees some rando. I was expecting Gyatso. Maybe being the avatar makes you immune to swamp dickishness?

If Cletus saw a lemoo at a travelling show once, does that mean that Momo is not the last of his species? Because I've been worrying about that.

This is a pretty cool use of waterbending. Although I don't think 'outboard motor with high manoeuvrability' is a recognised martial arts move.

All the background art in this episode is subtle but very detailed. Another episode I'll be watching on a better quality screen than my little laptop, which makes everything into a green-grey blur.

Sokka was looking for his friends. Katara was looking for her friends. Aang was chasing tail.

Tea party Sokka rocking a midi skirt and thigh high leather boots.

Have to give it to Sokka; they have all been huffing a lot of swamp gas recently. Hallucinating people you think of often after huffing god knows what is a more believable explanation than sentient, dickish swamp. Or it would be, if this wasn't a world where things like the avatar exist.

Looks like I was right about this being a beat up Sokka episode. The number of times swampy has thrown him to the ground, I'm surprised he's still getting up. Also, I think Sokka's voice actor was paid by the scream this episode.

Anyone remember the Absorbaloth?

Are these guys narrating NYOOM noises?

I have to commend the manoeuvrability of these boats.

Not to self: do not piss off a waterbender. They are human deli slicers.

"He's the Avatar. Stuff like that happens to us, a lot." Season 1 in a nutshell.

I applaud this guy's efficiency for styling his hair into a hat.

You guys are really going to go with this guy to a secondary location like 15 seconds after he stopped trying to kill you? Every so often I forget that the Gaang are teens or younger, then something comes along that really reminds me.

Nitpick! Are his socks made out of mud?

This guy has grey eyes like Aang does 50% of the time. I swear Aang has brown eyes in at least half the episodes so far.

More delicious reflections. I wish I could gif this too.

I love the lesson here. The swamp guy's speech about interconnectedness is good, made twice as good by the delivery. Excellent choice of voice actor. Also the bit about the people we've lost still being there hits hard.

A power this useful had better come up again.

Can someone who knows music better than I do tell me if Cletus is on beat? I think not.

New reaction shot!

Why does Sokka repeat "Hugh" so skeptically? What's the joke here?

"He don't eat no bugs. That's people food." This is the kind of stuff I love the most in this show. These seemingly inconsequential, throwaway worldbuilding comments that instantly double the depth of the universe of the show. Every time I get a glimpse of normal people living non-war-torn normal lives I love it.

Scenes like this. PEAK avatar.

That swamp just bitchslapped a bird.

I'd forgotten that Zuko and Iroh were in this episode.

Zuko is well on his way to being forgiven for stealing the horse bird.

Have to wonder why he had a spare set of black clothes lying around though.

Final Thoughts

This episode may well be my new favourite. I like if for the same reasons that I liked Bato of the Water Tribe: it shows us what comparatively normal life is like. Here's a random group of people that might not even know about the war. Looking at them gives us a glimpse of what Aang's pre-war world must have been like, and what the post-war world everyone is fighting to create could be like. It's both nostalgia and hope in one place.

I love that Sokka is still stubbornly anti-supernatural even after travelling for months with the human incarnation of a spirit, being kidnapped by a giant monster panda, and having his crush turn into the moon. Not to mention mega fishman Aang. Although, in a world where the existence of spirits is a scientifically observable fact, isn't believing in the supernatural actually the logical viewpoint?

Apart from that awesome deli slicer waterbending move, Katara did surprisingly little this episode. I think Momo and Appa had more to do.

Spekaing of, I loved having a little side adventure with Momo and Appa. There's enough personality in the animation and voicing of those two characters that they can easily carry dialogue-free scenes. Avatar should do a dialogue free episode with just Appa and Momo going on an adventure. I love their interspecies friendship.

The whole 'we're all connected' thing could have rung hollow if the writers hadn't taken the time to painfully personalise that message for two thirds of the Gaang. In today's arguably too-connected world (thanks internet) the lesson seems obvious, but in a pre-industrial world that's a century into a global war, I bet the connectedness of things is unknown, forgotten, or actively suppressed.

The incredibly short bookends with Zuko and Iroh were (I'm guessing) to establish that Zuko has taken a vigilante turn and that Iroh is inhumanly patient. Neither of those is a surprise. Honestly, if I found myself in that situation, I would react more like Zuko than Iroh. Guess that means I'm a work in progress.

The Storm last season showed that while Aang had a lot to learn, Zuko had a lot to unlearn. Instead of just unlearning incorrect things, it looks like the show is taking it a step farther and progressively stripping Zuko of everything. Zuko isn't one to sit idly by though, so he's fighting back by clinging to harmful things like his pride and learning things he arguably shouldn't, like how to commit theft of bird horses. Although I have no moral objection to stealing that jerk's swords.

This episode didn't have a beat up Sokka quota; it had a beat up everyone quota, physically and sometimes mentally too. Kind of surprised there weren't even bruises. And poor Sokka. The first cut is the deepest.

I'll definitely be rewatching this one.

[deliveryclan]

Ferret Clowder - The Proud

(credits to @/bonefall, @/rippleclan and @/salt-clangen for inspirations)

Let's start with the 'this is the most canon warrior cats clan I can handle before I get bored out of my mind' one.

Also - I don't want to lock them all in a specific climate, so if appearance of some trees or herbs or prey doesn't make sense, then that's why. The only rule I have is no actual tropical fruits/vegetables like bananas or coconuts. For the most part, I put in stuff that grows in my country (Poland) because that's what I'm most familiar with.

Intro

Ferret Clowder is, historically, the last clowder in the area to be established. After a disagreement on how to handle the issues surrounding what will became Oat Clowder's camp, the original group of cats split, and those entranced by stories of ancient 'wild' groups decided to set up a camp in the forest across the main parol. They called themselves 'Ferrets' after their superior, Ferret's Belly, and after each group picked their borders, they became 'Ferret Clowder'.

Nowadays, the modern Ferret cats don't remember that part of the history, and wholeheartedly believe that they were the first around here, originating from the ancient cat groups from the south. As a result, they put themselves higher than other clowder cats, believing that their way of life is 'superior'.

Background

Ferret Clowder is notable in the area, for having most traditional lifestyle. They pride themselves as most self-sufficient of the clowders in the area, and most respectful of their roots. Wholeheartedly believing into being descendants of ancient cat groups from the south.

They are the only clowder that still has 'one mentor one apprentice' system, instead of the younger cats being trained and raised communally. They also have them pick their additional ranks the moment they become apprentices, rather than decide after they trained for a bit, making it hard to swap for something else that they might like more or be better at. This excludes menders and mediators, as in every clowder the young cats has to decide before reaching 6 moons if they would like to train as one.

They also believe into 'tough love'. Treating younger members harshly and keeping them at distance, believing it will help them develop stronger sense of individuality and making them self-sufficient, prepare them for harshness of the world itself. It had unfortunate side effects of many Ferret cats being rather emotionally constipated, believing that showing any 'emotional weakness' is a sign of physical one as well and how it will affect other groups viewing them. Being seen as a force to be reckoned with and respected outside of their borders is more important than solving inside issues with this lifestyle.

This shouldn't come as surprise, that as a result they don't get many newcomers join (due to both their attitude towards outsiders, and the 'tough love' aspect), but also some of their younger members make the difficult decision to leave the clowder, to seek a safer place to stay. Those who end up in other clowders, often face harsh treatment from their old clowdermates when they met them at the border or on the gathering.

Territory and Camp

Their territory includes majority of a dense forest, with sparse meadows and open spots where the trees get thinner. Two rivers cut it, one on the south (going towards the ocean) and one on the north (coming from Sweet territory).

Their camp consist of one big cabin, where majority of the older members live, few smaller ones for other cats, separate cabin that acts as a nursery where younger cats are raised, one for menders and the sick and injured cats, a greenhouse for medical herbs, most common vegetables and fruits, and small huts where they store majority of their tools and resources. It's surrounded by a tall fence as whole.

(Visual of the average cabin. The main one might be decorated to make it look different than the rest.)

Around the camp there are spots for fireplaces, for leisure, warmth and outdoor cooking, as well as tables and wooden posts to hang freshly caught prey and prep them for meals (including sausages), or to reap leather.

(Wooden posts, along with some tools and buckets to gather blood and everything else that fall off (and out) of prepped prey.)

The living cabins have access to basic electricity for light, but besides that they rely on 'alternative' means of cooking and staying warm, rather than 'modern wonders'. They still have access to somewhat running and warm water, except it's only used for cleaning. Bathroom needs are dealt with in outhouses, just outside the camp fences.

(Greenhouse 'tent'. Shown empty, but overall filled with pots and all that stuff, for growing mainly medical herbs.)

Resources and Trade

Ferret Clowder believes they need to be as self-sufficient as possible, and so they usually don't ask for resources and tools they can find and make themselves. That includes majority of herbs, raw prey and tools such as knives.

They do, however, offer wide array of *their* herbs, fruits and meats. This also includes their processed forms.

(I'm not listing everything, as some things are the same across all territories.)

Leather gathered from otters, hares, boars, deer and foxes.

Apples, including wild apples.

Walnuts and chestnuts.

Bilberries, wild strawberries and blackberries (including blackberry leaves).

Sausages.

Various mushrooms (chanterelles, morels, birch bolete)

Horsetail, oak leaves, maple leaves, juniper and nettle.

Raw and dried meat harvested from ducks, geese, otters, boars, deer and foxes.

Honey and honeydew.

Duck and geese eggs and feathers.

Maple sap, birch tar.

Raw fish (like carps, trouts and breams) and frogs.

Antlers and bones.

Pottery and clay.

Accessories

(Vest and trapper's glove inspired by @/thewhalesheart)

Code and Faith

Unlike other three clowders, they pay a lot attention to their code. Breaking any part of it, no matter how small, is an offense and unless a cat has a good explanation or defense to why they did that, they might even face exile.

They take their borders very seriously, and don't go easy on anyone trespassing. Letting someone get across the border without good reason might earn the offending Ferret cat a cuff in the ear or temporary demotion, especially when the trespassing cat stole prey or herbs from their side.

Trading, giving away, but also asking for resources without leader's knowledge, even if done with good intentions, is another thing that might end up putting the cat in hot water with the high ranks.

Despite having access to many tools that could be used as weapons, bringing them on a border patrol/skirmish or into a battle is strictly prohibited, and breaking the rule will result an immediate exile. They obviously expect the same out of their opponents.

The one that gets 'broken' a lot and the leadership is exceptionally harsh on is having outside mates. While they are aware that they need fresh blood to prevent devastating results in the future, they are very harsh on outsiders, and even those from other clowders. The only way to prevent punishment is to get the outside mate to join the Ferret Clowder. Then it's technically not code violation, since they are considered a part of the clowder. Others find a 'work-around' and either give birth outside of the camp to claim they 'found' a stray litter, or ask someone from the clowder to pretend to be their honor sire. However, if the cat is discovered to have lied, both they *and* their kits will face exile (although it also depends on the leadership, one leader might allow the kits to stay, but remain very harsh on them, other might exile them along with their parent). Nowadays the leaders are more lenient on kits born from relations between Ferret cat and an unaligned cat, since they lost many cats to sickness and several younger cats ended up leaving the clowder due to mistreatment, significantly lowering their population.

They are the only Clowder that believes in the being called 'Starbringer'. It's one of few Higher Beings that are known around the world, and Starbringer is believed to be a patron of life and death, birth and rebirth, living among the stars. Legends say that those who prayed to Starbringer had a chance of receiving a blessing from it, allowing their spirits to return to their body after death, with the cause (wounds, illness) healed. Some stories say the blessing lasted for nine deaths, other say it was less than nine. Nowadays it appears so Starbringer went silent after a great tragedy, and since then no one had received the blessing.

Neighbors and Relations

They share border with Sweet Clowder, Oat Clowder and Mallow Clowder.

The Ferret territory is in peculiar spot, separated from other three by a long, gravel road, that connects the Trading Villages with the City. As such, Ferret's side of the road if there their border ends, and the other side of the road is there territories of other clowders begin.

The road is treated by everyone as a neutral stretch, allowing everyone (aligned or unaligned) to move around freely.

They technically share a border with nearest Trading Village (Howler's Respite) and the City. But between them and the edge of Ferret's territory is enough space, that they aren't considered neighbors.

Oat-Ferret relations are tense at best and hostile at worst. And it' mostly one-sided, with majority Oat cats not giving a crap about the border disputes, and Ferret cats in particular being touchy around the subject. They also deem Oat's lifestyle 'soft' and 'must be so hard living in a nice building', despite the obvious.. issues surrounding the place. Oat Clowder is also know for taking in outsiders and exiles, especially those from Ferret Clowder, which they find insulting.

Sweet-Ferret relations are mostly positive. They both share mutual interest in growing their own food and thus they respect one another.

Mallow-Ferret relations are somewhat tense too, but they also share 'borders' (or nearby area) with the City and have to deal with cats coming from there, and such they usually go over their differences to focus on 'common enemy'.

They are known to not be particularly welcome towards outsiders. Other alignments like Trading Villages (including the nearest one to them, Howler's Respite), the Pod and the City of Andromedae are generally on thin ice (especially Andromedae cats) and left alone, however.

Roles

Leader - Is the cat making major decisions for the clowder and its members. In the same vein of them believing in Starbringer, the leader changes their name to include the -star suffix, to further show their devotion to the Higher Being. They still have only one life like everyone else, however, and it's just purely 'cosmetic' change.

Deputy - Leader's second-in-command who will become leader after the previous one dies/retires and who manages most of the inside workings of the group, including patrols, hunts and assessing the apprentices. It's still up to the leader to pick cats for gatherings and pick mentors for kits, but generally the deputy's opinion on the matter is listened to. On the same vein, leaders usually pick their own apprentices for the deputy position, believing they trained them the best and know they will continue their legacy, even better than their own kin. Deputies are also required to act like leader's personal bodyguards in case of an uprising or a fight.

Mender - Is how Ferrets call their medics. Unlike other three clowders, menders are partially spiritual guides too, also praying to the Starbringer for guidance and help. And due to this, Ferret's menders are generally discouraged from having mates and kits, as they believe that it will 'taint' the connection between them and the Higher Being (rather than distract them from the duties, as they are still allowed to have friends and remain in contact with their family members).

Trapper - Are cats responsible for making the tools and making sure they are up-to-date and the top quality. They are also responsible for dealing with the caught prey, like making sure the meat and organs are good quality, strip the fur off the carcass and more.

Ranger - Cats responsible for tracking down prey and predators across their territory (like deer, foxes, badgers), potential trespassers, and overall making sure the territory is in top-notch condition - no trash, rotten corpses potentially spreading disease, no fire-hazards, no waste etc. Rangers are generally ones send to do border patrols, along with a warrior escort.

Seeker - Seekers aren't in use as frequently as they used to, as they are widely considered 'dishonorable'. They were meant to be spies, sent onto other territories to scour and then report to the leader anything they saw happening in other clowders. However, any discovery of a seeker on enemy's territory usually lead to their death, and Ferret Clowder faced a lot of scrutiny for it, regardless of intentions. Nowadays there aren't many, if any, seekers left.

Other roles - This includes mediators (whose job is to negotiate outside relations between clowders and other groups, as well as inside relations between clowdermates, but also investigate accidents and crimes) and warriors (who do most of the border defending and fighting when time calls, but overall they also do camp-work and cooking.. like everyone else). All cats have to go through a warrior training, including mediators (but excluding menders). Other roles are just elders (cats who retire), queens (nursing cats), apprentices (cats under at least 12 moons that are training in their respective ranks) and kits (cubs under 6 moons).

Starting high ranks

Ages are accurate as of Moon 0.

(Foxstar is Primpetal's uncle, from his mother's side)

(Foxstar is also a ranger, and Nightwish is a trapper.)

[cielenruine]

[FOOD] - sender sets something to eat down in front of receiver.

“Here you go uncle!”

With a big smile on his face, Ewan put down his tray on the table right in front of Matthias. The mage said one day he’d cook for him, and today was the day! He’s been at it since early this morning, but at last it was finished, right in time for lunch.

It was covered with a lid for now, but the boy was eager to show the result of all his hard work. His eyes, odd and literally starry eyed as they were twinkled with delight as he finally took off the cover to reveal…!

Immediately an odd scent emitted from the dish. Inside the bowl there was some kind of unidentifiable purple sludge, with orange and pale yellow chunks of…. Something. Most notable though were what appeared to be sardine heads sticking out, glossy eyed and begging for release that would never come. “It’s fish stew! The weathers been kinda cold lately so I figured you could use something hearty! I put a bunch of stuff in that should keep you warm.” He explained, all with the most innocent smile of course.

Peppers, lots and lots of spicy peppers. As well as black pepper, this one Hoshidan root vegetable that smelled like heat, and mustard. Those were the bases for the soup. Added to that were some washed and cut vegetables and a few cans of sardines, of course. Surely after a sip of that you’d have a warm belly, ready to tackle a cold day!

Expectantly he stared at Matthias, waiting for him to try it. “I did my best, so I really hope you’ll like it!”

He had just been waiting for the moment. Of course in most places, nobles would tend to get their spoils first but between being back home and how the academy often functioned, he had no problem waiting, simply bidding his time until the line died down and he could get his food in peace. That had been the plan...until his table had been set, a dish presented to him in quite an endearing fashion. "Ah, Ewan." Name now put to face, the little witch had seemed to brew him a stew...and truly it was more akin to a brew than it was a stew... The sentiment...he couldn't fault it. Rather than allow the smell to overtake his senses, he just pondered...what could one have even thrown in to make things turn out this way? "Much appreciated, though I'll have you know my homeland is far colder so you need not worry over me." He picked up the spoon and wondered. It would either taste like everything or nothing. He took a sip and it was odd. Hot, both in temperature and in mouth feel. The taste assaulted his senses before it acclimated. Food was food. "What all did you put in it?" As he took another sip, the process repeated. A wince of everything all at once and then an aftertaste that was a bit...watery? A gift from the goddess that not everything had the time to properly form a broth. He wanted to identify the chunks on his own but...he did not want to take that chance. Something told him they might not have been cur properly... "I appreciate your effort...but I will make sure to help you out a bit next time..."

[scribblertown]

Fates of the Fateless Ch. 6: New Faces New Places and a Horse

The gang grows a little bigger and you get to know others a little more.

ao3

wattpad

“The life at sea is a grand and hard. Harder than anything we’ve faced here on land.” Pearson was going off on one of his sailor tangents again. Every time he did you couldn’t help thinking of an old man desperate to relive his glory years. “The fear in your gut wondering if you’ll have enough to last you till next port is beyond imagining.” You’ve heard this story before, more than once actually. Next, he’s going to bring up eating seal meat. “The waters up north are absolutely teaming with seals.” Yep, here we go. “Their meat is real’ greasy you know, has a certain flavor to it. Like a mix of duck and veal.” As he reminisced on his voyages you were stuck cutting and peeling vegetables, nothing you haven’t done before. But the amount to be prepped today was more than usual. Like, an exceptionally larger amount. “I still get cravings for the stuff, can’t find it anywhere ‘round here.”

 His droning tales began to fade away as your mind wondered. Your eyes drifting back and forth to the Juniper tree that sat just behind your tent. The fixation of your attention for the past couple of weeks.

 Peel, peel, peel. A glance at the tree. Chop, chop, chop. A glance at the tree. Peel, peel. A glance. Chop, chop. A glance. It had become an obsession at this point. Every time someone would drift a little too close to the tree, you’d feel yourself tense up, unable to look away until they finally move onto another part of camp. You weren’t sure what would happen if anyone stumbled upon your little secret hidden away in the winding tangled roots of the grand and old juniper. But after witnessing Arthur’s more than adequate show of putting down a man three times your size, you couldn’t help but snatch up that precious pistol. It almost seemed like life had deliberately sent it in your direction, right there at your feet for the taking. At least, if it really came down to it, you had a chance at defending yourself.

 “Once you’re done with those potatoes, throw them in that pot of water. Give the skins to the chickens.” Pearson had swung around with his freshly skinned and cleaved rabbits, the choice meat around these parts apparently. He then does a quick count on his fingers muttering softly under his breath. A gradual scowl crosses his face as his brow furrows, his mustache consumes his mouth in a frown. “Hmm… we’re not gonna have enough for the next week at this rate.” That didn’t seem right.

 “This seems like a lot of food for just us.” Sure, you may be new to the ways of life in the 1800’s, but your pretty sure meal prepping wasn’t a concept of the time beyond canning.

 “It ain’t, Dutch made some connections with some of the mining men up in Bingham. Should be here by nightfall.” Oh great, more strange men. “Rigorous work like that, tends to give one quite the appetite.” He’s quick to grab what carrots and onions you have done before tossing them into the cast iron with a big glob of some sort of animal fat. The smell of it was always a little gamey. “I’m hoping this means more money. More money means better eatin’.” Pearson was nice enough; he had a sweet face and a nice singing voice. You got the impression he was desperate to socialize. Which might work to your advantage.

 “What kind of work does Dutch do?” Maybe you’d get a different piece to the puzzle. “I hear he does dangerous work.”

 “All work is dangerous in this day and age.” Damn it.

 “Have you been traveling long? No place to call home?”

 “Dutch and couple of the others have been out on the road a lot longer than me. I only just joined up maybe… four years ago.”

 “Four years?!” You gaped at him flabbergasted. Four years of this same boring routine of grueling work, of never having a roof over their head, and rarely socializing outside of the camp circle. Is that what your future would be with these people? “And you never left?”

 “No, and I’m not sure I ever want to.” He collects another batch of vegetables from you. “I had made some desperate money decisions, borrowed from a few fellers thinking I’d manage to make up what I owed and some extra to get back on my feet. I didn’t, not even close and some real mean-spirited men were sent after me. Forced me to marry a woman and took everything I had to my name. I’m sure they would’ve taken my life as well had Dutch and Hosea not stepped in.” A smile began to slowly build on his lips, and his eyes became misty and soft. “They paid my debts. Some lowly, good for nothing-nobody they knew shit about. But they saved me anyway.” His eyes then drifted to yours, his brow was tightly furrowed and his gaze suddenly bold and serious. “Everyone here has a similar story, many of them worse than mine.” His voice is deep and breathy. “This world is a cruel and unforgivable place, one that don’t want folk like us. People will do what they have to for survival, but folk like Dutch. Like Hosea. They do what they have to for more than just themselves. They do what they have to for us.” He didn’t say much after that. Leaving you with a new worry in your gut.

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 When the sun had begun to paint the sky a plethora of warm colors, the men came. Talking loudly and cheerfully. Lead by Dutch, Arthur, and William on horseback. Five new dark silhouettes grew closer before they dismounted their horses just outside of the camps main grounds. You tried to keep yourself from staring, pretending to be all too focused on redoing the seams on a jacket arm. Settled just a few feet from the cooking pot accompanied by Tilly with her own sewing project. The smell of the rabbit and vegetable stew you’d prepped drifting from its large confines of black iron as the two of you observed in silence.

 “Mmmm! Something smells damn good!” The voice that cried out was an unfamiliar one, a bit shrill. His voice sounded quite young.

 “It’s been so long since I’ve had a decent meal…” An older man, rough and worn.

 “Gentlemen, as the first day of our partnership, I would ask you eat to your hearts content knowing that your lives are now you’re own.” Dutch led the line of men towards the large pot, striking a match on his boot. The quick flicker of flame illuminating his face for a quick second before fluttering into a soft glow as he lit a pipe. The group hooping and hollering as they swarmed the area. Two straggled behind a bit. A man and a woman.

 “I’ll getchu a bowl Agatha, you just take a seat and rest a spell.” The man donned bright red hair, swept to the side and styled with some sort of hair grease. His face was angular and skinny, with a decoration of freckles that covered his pale face. He cradled the woman in a gentle and intimate manner.  

 “Alright, but I want you to get yourself a bowl first.” The woman spoke in a broken and course voice. A dark bruise around her left eye, barely hidden behind her dark locks that draped freely down her back and shoulders. They bickered softly for a moment before she finally took a seat on a spare crate near the chicken coop as he joined the rest of the men. A deep sigh fell from her lips as she practically melted into her seat.

 “I certainly hope that bruise isn’t from one of these boys…” Tilly commented under her breath, watching the new group like a hawk with critical eyes scanning every little exchange and movement. You replied with a hum. Out of the corner of your eye Arthur could be seen slipping away into the shadows with a fat saddle bag hefted over his shoulder with a rambunctious William at his tail. Your eyes curiously trailed them as they ventured towards the camps outskirts before your view was cut off by a large figure.  

 “Well well, I wasn’t expectin’ lovely ladies in your band of gunslingers Mr. Van der Linde.” This man was the tallest of the lot, taller than even Arthur or Dutch. Stocky in build with an equally round and stocky face, short salt and pepper hair without a single strand out of place parted down the middle, a thin pencil mustache sat upon his upper lip and sunken light brown eyes that had that familiar predatory stare. An all too happy smirk on his face as his eyes openly wandered your bodies. You unconsciously leaned towards Tilly to block her from his view, before sending him a death glare from under your lashes. “Oooo… Now you don’t wanna go ruinin’ that pretty little face of yours with such an ugly scowl hm?” He chuckled teasingly before bringing another scoop of stew to his mouth full of rotten and crooked teeth. You could just smell the infection on his breath. “Not very lady like.” Bits of food flung out as he spoke.

 “Can’t you be a dumb hunk of shit somewhere else?” Tilly snapped at him brandishing an equally fiery scowl. The rest of the men let out an explosion of laughter. The man’s face quickly became red and tense. Gripping his spoon with enough force to almost bend it in his meaty sausage fingers.

 “Stupid bitch I oughta-” He begins to swing his arm back preparing to strike, you tense spreading your body around Tilly as much as you can awaiting the blow but before he can get enough momentum Dutch is quick to slip between you and dickhead.

 “Wow now Mr. Samson!” His hands are up and his posture relaxed in a mock surrender, “I’ve got rules in my camp, and that includes causin’ trouble for the girls.” His hand drifts to his hip, sweeping aside his jacket flaps exposing his lavish pistol. “You don’t wanna go ruinin’ a beautiful friendship before it even starts.” Samson stares at the pistol a moment before returning to Dutch’s face. “Do you, Mr. Samson?” His face twists before he let out an angry huff, marching off to no doubt sulk in the shadows.

 Hosea then emerges seemingly out of nowhere with John, Arthur, Grimshaw, and William in tow. The saddle bag nowhere to be seen.

 “Been awhile since we’ve had this many people.” Hosea’s eyes wonder over the group of newcomers, rubbing his chin with a small smile. “Guess I better go say hello.” In a matter of seconds of him entering the circle, the men fall under the sweet old man’s charming spell.

 “Just more mouths to feed, and smaller shares for us.” John sulks with a scowl on his face, clearly not happy with the change in guard.

 William has a similar distasteful look, “More like sheep dan men if ya ask me.”

 Dutch comes up behind the two, his hands coming down onto their shoulders with a fierce grip, his pipe nestled between his teeth. “Ooh you boys were just like those poor souls once upon a time.” He spoke through his teeth with a smile. “In fact, I recall you two being a lot more pathetic.”  

 Grimshaw then steps forward, “Dutch I take it you still want us to be packing up to move soon?”

 “Mmhm, after tonight’s haul I imagine word will get out sooner than later. Rather not be so close to town.”

 “What? We’re moving already?” You were just beginning to settle in. “Why?”

 The look of surprise on Dutch’s face made you wonder if he hadn’t realized you were still lingering. “Miss (y/n)! I almost forgot you could talk!”

 “No kiddin’, she’s a real bore.” William shrugs Dutch off his shoulder. “All work ‘nd no play.” That puts a frown on your face knowing full well William’s idea of fun is hassling anyone and everyone he can. “Don’t even know how ta ride a horse. Can ya believe dat?” He’s still going on about that?!

 “At least I don’t smell like one…” you mutter.

 “Dat’s another ting! I know ya go down to the creek for your precious baths princess. Every day!” Your face immediately goes flush and hot. “No one should bathe dat much.”

 “Have you been spying on me?!” You’re standing now, hands clenched in tight fists glaring him in his good eye. He just grins. Which is quickly wiped off his face as Grimshaw swoops in to tug at his ear with a harsh pull.

 “Ooowowowow!” He cries out as she twists him downwards, casually turning to you.

 “Why don’t you girls get yerself something to eat and call it a night. I’m going to have a word with Mr. O’brien.” She gives another hard tug, leading herself and William away. “Goodnight gentlemen.”

 “Ow! What’re ya doin’ ya crazy old hag!” William’s cries of protest fading with each step. Dutch and the other boys simply laugh at his expense.

 “C’mon (y/n) let’s grab some stew and sit by the fire.” Tilly tosses her fabric to the side, quick to jump on her feet and excitedly veer towards the pot.

 Thankfully there was still a decent amount of stew left sticking to the bottom of the cast iron pot, bubbling on the brink of being caramelized and burnt. The two of you quickly found a spot around the main fire where the other men had collected, Uncle balancing a banjo on his knee as he laughs and plays a familiar tune. Out of the corner of your eye you spot John awkwardly standing a decent distance away from you before finally deciding to sit down in the spot to your right.

 “Hi John.”

 “Hi…” He’s not looking at you as he watches his spoon lazily push around a hunk of rabbit. Soon Arthur appears to take up the spot next to him with a hunk of bread in his mouth. “I-I could teach you.”

 “Huh?” John was still staring down at his food, his eyes darting back and forth from his bowl to you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he struggled to speak his next words.

 “To ride a horse.” He turns his head to make brief eye contact before they divert to anything but you. “I could teach you how.” You’ve only ever gotten a hello out of the guy and now he’s suddenly offering you free riding lessons.

 “I don’t have a horse.”

 “You can ride mine, or… one of the spare work horses.” He clears his throat before shoveling a large spoonful into his mouth. Just past him you can see Arthur giving him a strange side eye. “Y-yeah, I think… I think you should learn how to ride is all.” He takes another huge mouthful.

 “Alright. That would be very helpful actually.” You sit up a little straighter, turning your body towards him with a small hint of a smile. He visibly freezes hunched over; eyes downcast before he quickly shovels the rest of his food down as fast as he can. He then bolts from his seat, walking almost fast enough to have to break out into a slight jog shouting over his shoulder.

 “Alright I’ll see you later then!”

 “Ok…” a bit baffled at the blunt and brief conversation.

 Arthur scoffs out a slight chuckle, “I would find a different teacher if I were you.”

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 You were grateful for the early bedtime rest as it seemed Grimshaw felt the need to wake you up earlier than usual.  

 “Up up up! It’s time we start packin’!” another swift, sharp kick to your shins only increasing your rising annoyance to such a rude awakening.

 “Alright alright!” you take a second to rub the lingering sleep from your eyes. Blinking slowly to find it was still relatively dark out. Grimshaw who was somehow fully dressed, hair done, and with a pep in her step marched off to wake her next victim. “What time is it?”

 “Is it gonna make you get up faster if I tell you?” Tilly is somehow already on her feet and messing with her hair pins. “I’d get going now if I were you, don’t want that pig from last night getting a glimpse at us in our undergarments.” She moves like lighting twisting and readjusting the pins in her hair before she’s rummaging in your shared chest for her skirt, she grabs yours as well and throws it in your face. “Well? Hurry up!”

 “Hold on, I gotta wash my face first.” You crumble the bunch of clothes in your arms and unhappily get to your feet. Nights in the desert were surprisingly cold, only made getting up all the more difficult. It left any and all the water ice cold, a splash to the face was enough to finally bring you out of your groggy state. Shaking your hands to rid yourself of the lingering drops of chilled water you spotted the woman from last night timidly approaching you. “Good morning.” Your sleepy voice coming out deep and low.

 “Good morning.” She gave a small smile, reaching for the ladle that hung off the lip of the barrels opening and taking a gracious drink. You stood there a little awkwardly unsure if it would be more rude to just leave or start some sort of petty small talk.

 “I’m (y/n).” You seemed to have made the right decision as her eyes lit up with a smile.

 “My name is Agatha.” She gave a brief pause, hands tucked neatly in front of her, “I’m happy to see there are other women here.”

 “Oh, believe me, I thought the same thing when I first joined up.”

 “Have you been here long?”

 “Well…. Not really, only about 3ish months.” I think… “I wasn’t expecting a woman to come from Bingham mine. I figured we’d just be getting men.”

 “Oh, I’d follow Joseph to the ends of the earth. But I’m happy to be away from that place. They were working him to death.” You couldn’t help but stare at the bruise on her eye, she seemed to notice. “This was a parting gift from my previous employer.” She touched the purpling skin delicately. “Joseph was sure to give him twice the beating.”

 “Sounds like you picked a good one.” Just past Agatha you could see Grimshaw prowling about. You’ve been taking up too much time. “Uh, I gotta get to work but let’s chat some more later, ok?” You start to walk backwards as you spoke.

 “Of course! It was nice to meet you.”

 “Nice to meet you too!” You shouted over your shoulder before bolting back to your tent. Tilly had already rolled up your sleeping pads, thankfully leaving the chest and tent up for you. You glance around to find no one else was nearby. You quickly slipped to the Juniper tree crouching down and delving into the roots, fiddling around blindly until the cold steel met your fingertips. Swiftly wrapping the pistol in the change of clothes you had engulfed in your arms. Acting nonchalant as you pretended you were simply packing away your belongings. Careful to bury it at the bottom of the chest where only your belongings laid. Quick to actually get dressed and begin the grueling process of carefully taking down the tent, folding it properly and playing a game of tetris fitting it all into the wagon. Next came everything else that wasn’t absolutely needed. Tables, clothes, personal belongings, most of Pearson’s dry goods and cooking ware. If it wasn’t nailed down or on a horse, it goes in the wagons.

 “Careful vith my equipment! It’s very fragile!”

 “Relax Strauss, I know how glass works.” The camp was bare and empty now with only remnants of footprints and the old campfire among the red sand. The sun was now only just starting to come up as you hefted the last bit of supplies into its rightful spot. “You want me to take your bag too?” you reached out a hand, eyeing his medical bag that he carried around. He cradled it close to his chest with a distasteful look.

 “No, it stays vith me.”

 “Alright well… I guess pick your ride and we can get out of here.” You keep yourself from rolling your eyes and dropped your hand, he hadn’t lifted a finger to help out, didn’t even take down his own tent. “And William calls me princess…” you mutter under your breath as you settle onto a pile of fabric tightly rolled together just outside of the wagon opening. Strauss hesitates a moment before also climbing aboard, sitting adjacent to you, cradling his bag in his lap. Your eyes wandered to find most everyone else has loaded up and found their respective spots to travel. The wagon just in front of you holds Agatha and the red head you now know as Joseph, feet dangling off the edge, their horse tied just in front of them with their personal belongings on its back. You gave her a wave; she gave one back. Thankfully it seemed Samson wasn’t around, along with the regular bread winners. Arthur wasn’t around, nor were John or William. You took some comfort in that.

“Good morning!” Pearson’s chipper chubby face appears as he hops up onto the coach, scooching over as a young man takes the spot next to him.

 “Hello.” His voice was hushed and smooth. Kind dark brown eyes, clean shaven with long silky black hair tied in a braid down his back and donning a simple looking leather hat to keep the sun out of his deep tan face.

 “Ah Guten Morgen Mr. Pearson.”

 “Have you met Jay yet?” Pearson glances over his shoulder at the two of you, the reins resting limply in his hands as you all await the caravan to move along.

 “It’s Jie, Mr. Pearson.” The man corrects him with a smile, he meets your eyes again, “Jie Liu. It’s nice to meet you.” His face carved deep lines up from his jaw and into his cheeks when he smiled.

 “Hallo, Jee-eh, I am Doctor Leopold Strauss.” The poor man’s names get butchered again mixed with Strauss’ heavy European accent, it makes you cringe a little. But Jie just smiles and nods at him seemingly unbothered. Turning to you next.

 “And I already know who you are. Your little confrontation with Mr. O’brien was enough for us to quickly learn your name.” He has a slight accent, it’s very subtle, though it’s noticeable with certain words. “What’s the saying? Cleanliness is close to Godliness!” He laughs. You feel a little embarrassed to remember you had an audience watching your little fight last night.

 “You know I’m pretty sure that’s the most emotion I’ve seen you show since you’ve gotten here.” Pearson has a sly glint in his eye. “Seems some of Grimshaw’s charm is rubbing off on you.”

 You roll your eyes. He just laughs. The wagon in front of you starts to move. You all jolt forward slightly as Pearson snaps the reins.

 “Jee-eh, I take it you’re an immigrant, yes?” Strauss is holding a book in his hands now jotting something down as he speaks.

 “Yes, I am originally from Hong Kong. I take it you are also an immigrant Mr. Strauss?”

 “Austrian. But like everything about this country, I’ve been consumed into the American masses.”

 Jie gives a chipper response. “It is quite the country.”

 “Hong Kong huh? That’s so far away, how and why did you come here?” You ask.

 “My home, the little neighborhood I grew up in wasn’t exactly a good one. Big cities like that tend to attract a lot of… bad people.” He pauses a moment before picking back up again. “I lived their most of my adolescent life but… there’s nothing left for me there.” There’s a sadness in his voice, and the implications of what that might mean makes you wish you didn’t ask.

 “I’m sorry to hear that…” You spoke softly, awaiting his next words with reverence. The other two remain silent.

 He lets out a long sigh, “So, I ended up leaving the country to come here. I was swept up into the work most migrants end up doing. I met a friend who got me into the mining business at Bingham, lost him in the cave ins and now I’m here.”

 “Agatha mentioned something about the mine almost working Joseph to death.”

 “It’s definitely work I hope to never have to fall into again. It paid decently but when you take into account how much goes into food, housing, and medicine, you lose it just as quickly as you gained it.”

 “I haven’t had the chance to talk to the other new recruits. I take it they left under similar circumstances?” Pearson asks curiously.

 “To be honest, I am not very familiar with the others beyond their names. But yes, considering the recent cave in and other issues arising from poor work conditions, I’m actually surprised we didn’t have more men take up Mr. Van der Linde’s offer.”

 “They vere fools not to.”

 “Oh, Strauss you can be a very cold man sometimes you know that?” Pearson lets out a holler, “We got a lot of miles to cover and so much to talk about. You know I was a sailor on the seas once upon a time. Back when I was far younger and had a little more on my head and a little less on my stomach, AHAHA!”

 Dear God no… Not again…

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 This was by far the farthest and longest you’ve traveled so far. It was a shift in driving wagons, sleeping when night fell, and getting back on the road before the sun even came up. Swapping places here and there so you weren’t stuck with some of the more miserable members of your mysterious caravan. Encountering the two other men you hadn’t had a chance to talk to. The oldest of the bunch was an aged and worn man by the name of Crisoforo Abadiano. His skin was dark and sun damaged, deep lines in his face from years of wear and tear. He was the older than even Hosea it seemed. His dark eyes framed by heavy lashes and a sad distant look to them. Hair short and combed back with slivers of silver amongst his jet-black hair, covered by a large brimmed hat. He never really talked much and when he did it was usually single word responses. While very quiet he was the type you could be comfortable in silence with.

 “You have any hobbies Mr. Abadiano?”

 “No.”

 “Really, nothing at all?”

 “Cards.” He was fantastic at ending conversations before they really began.

  And of course, Joseph with Agatha practically attached at his hip. He was quite young, younger than you at least. Both ambitious and optimistic, excited to exchange stories and meet new people.

 “How did you two meet anyway?”

 “Well, I was working at the mining town’s saloon as a waitress and card dealer, you get good commission when all the men want to do after work is drink and gamble all they’re earnings away, sometimes they’d forget I’d already been paid.” Agatha gives a giggle. “Well one night, I was having particular trouble with a tenet who’d pulled a knife on me, accusing me of cheating him out of his winnin’s. I thought I was ‘bout to be gutted when a strapping,” Agatha breathes in a hushed voice as if just the memory of this incident left her breathless, looking dreamily at Joseph, “strong, young, and handsome hero stepped in to save me.” She lets out a long sigh as her lashes flutter in a half-lidded look. “I knew he was the one for me.”

 “Oh Agatha, you’ll never know what joy your words bring to my foolish heart.” Joseph, whose face was red as a tomato and clearly flustered was now cradling Agatha in his arms with a similar look of intense love in his eyes. “I love you, Agatha.”

 “I love you too, Joseph.” The two then shared a chaste kiss leading to another and another until they were holding each other long and tender. Leaving you to uncomfortably look around at anything but the spontaneous make out session you had the misfortune of being an audience for. They were cute and easy to talk to but… they were just too… lovey dovey.

 Other than the small talk, watching the scenery slooowly pass by and napping were your pastimes. (That and avoiding Mr. Samson like the plague personified). It was so incredibly boring to be traveling at a snail’s pace with nothing to occupy yourself. You started to pick up on some of the mannerisms of many of the others.

 Uncle at any point you were caught in his presence was buzzed 9 times out of 10. Bessie had impeccable posture seemingly always sitting straight as a plank. Hosea never seemed hot, even on the hottest of days, you’ve never seen him break a sweat. In more ways than one. Dutch and Annabelle were usually resting against each other, shoulder to shoulder, whispering and giggling to each other. You even managed to catch some poetry from Dutch. It actually wasn’t half bad.

 The bread winners had returned during the night on one of your rest stops, suddenly just there one morning around the coffee pot after having been missing for so long, it had caught you off guard. John was as awkward as ever giving a small hello without looking you in the eyes, Arthur was a bit grumpy and just grunted, and William had that distinct sneer he’d always give you, not saying a word. The stupid bastard.

 They led the rest of the way to a secluded canyon, the jagged red and pink sand rocks speckled with an assortment of desert trees and shrubbery, towering on both sides of a large level bed of rock with two openings that split off into two different directions and a third that you all entered through. It was shaded and cool, quiet and untouched.

 Dutch and Annabelle were excitedly taking in the view of the grand open space, as the rest of you began to unpack. “Quiet, secluded, no nosey neighbors. This place is perfect Arthur!”

 “Thought you’d like it.” Arthur gave a smirk, pulling up a match to light a cigarette perched on his lips. You assisted Pearson with unloading, watching Tilly curiously survey the campsite before boldly stomping up a cloud of dust.

 “I’m claiming this spot for the women!” She announces with wide smile. The area just to the right of the opening to the north.

 “Oh? And where will you be sleeping?” Uncle teases her, he had a box in his arms seemingly pitching in with the labor before realizing it was full of liquor.

Back and forth, back and forth. The camp slowly came to life. Dutch’s tent went up first, next was Bessie’s and Hosea’s, and then Arthur’s and so on and so forth until only yours was left.

 Only problem is it was smothered under an unfamiliar large wooden chest. Sun bleached in places and chipped in others. Barred by rusted iron hinges and simple looking. Only issue was how unexpectedly heavy it was. Even with both hands you barely managed to scoot it an inch.

 “Hmpphh!” You give a harsh pull, causing whatever’s inside to slide and tumble.  

 “Wow, there miss.” Arthur slides into view, hands quick to find the handles, his calloused fingers grazing yours slightly, tickling the little hairs on the back of your hands. His hat shrouds his face from you. “Let me get this out of your way.” He picks it up like it weighs nothing, and heads off towards Dutch’s tent. You watch as Dutch’s eyes light up at the sight of him. Quick to swoop him into his tent and draw back the canvas curtains, shrouding them from view.

 Odd. Very odd.

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

  You could feel eyes on your back as you awkwardly finish ramming the final stake into the ground. Giving the twine a good tug before making yourself recognize the presence.

 “Hi John,” you toss the hammer back into the wooden tool box, wiping sand from your hands. “You uh… need something?”

 “Let’s go riding.”

 “Oh, you wanna do the lessons now?” your eyes wander around looking for Grimshaw, you’d rather not wander off without her approval. Not worth the scolding you think.

 “Yes.” He’s quick to start a march towards the horses looking back at you, still unmoved from your spot. “Come on then!” He yells in haste. You stand there hesitantly shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Taking a moment to consider if John is someone you want to be alone with. I mean he’s just a kid, but…

 “But Grimshaw won’t like it if I ditch work!”

 “Your chores will still be here when you get back.” He lets out a huff, clearly anxious to get going, “Now come on!”

 “Can Tilly come?”

 “Huh?” Tilly juggling an arm full of pots and pans shoots you a look of absolute confusion. “I got stuff to do around here!”

 “But I don’t-“ You step a foot closer to her, voice low enough only she can hear. “I don’t want to be alone with a strange man er-boy!”

 “John ain’t gonna do nothin’. He’s as dumb as a bag of dirt but he ain’t bad.” Her hand jumps to catch a cast iron pan that was slipping from underneath her elbow, snagging painfully on her finger. You relieve her of the heavy pan and find it a more convenient place in her jumbled arms. “You’ll be fine. Although I’m not sure you’ll actually learn anything.”

 You can see his horse patiently awaiting its rider, a big and burly warm brown stallion already harnessed. Next to it was one of the driving horses, even bigger than John’s horse and rippling with muscle. Black and white like a cow, towering over everything and everyone else.

 “Uum, isn’t he a little big?” Your eyes scan the big beast, just how in the hell are you even supposed to get on this giant?

 “Horses are for riding. He’s a horse, so ride him.” A blanket is tossed onto the curved slope of the horse’s back before a saddle follows. He’s quick and efficient as he pulls and ties the various leather straps into place, clearly very familiar with his way around a horse. “Alright, hop on up.” You’re a bit hesitant as you nervously approach.

 Please don’t kick me, Mr. Horse.

 Your first instinct is to grab the saddle horn, which is barely within your reach. Next you pick up your foot to awkwardly sit in the stirrup leaving you hanging off of the side like a monkey.

 “You’re doing it wrong.”

 “Huh?” you peek over at John, fidgeting with his suspenders. “How?”

 “Well, uh, you’re just getting on wrong.” You look down at your right foot twisted in the stirrup at an angle, then at your hands tangled together before looking at him quizzically. “You hafta swing your leg over… so you gotta…” He’s at a loss of words, mind clearly working overtime, his face beginning to redden. “Just watch me! Ok?” He places his left foot into the horse’s left stirrup before swinging his right over and finding his perfect perch atop his horse. “Like that.”

 “Ooh.” You readjust yourself to place the correct foot in the stirrup before hopping once, twice, and thrice heaving yourself up and your leg over the seat of the saddle. “Oomph!” your leg only hooks itself at the knee, leaving you to depend on your arms to pull the rest of your body upwards, hands barely having enough room to hold onto the tiny saddle horn before finally getting into your seat. Already looking like an idiot. You scoop the reins into your hands gingerly, actively making sure they are lax in your grip afraid you might cause the horse to move before you’re ready. “Now what?” you ask.

 “Now, we get a move on.” He clicks his tongue and turns his horse out toward the open desert. He gets a ways out before realizing you’re not following. “Are you coming!?” He yells.

 You’re digging your heels into the horse’s sides, clicking your tongue, pulling on the reins trying to get the thing to move, but he remains still. “How do I get him to move!?” you call back.

 “Squeeze his chest!”

 “Squeeze his chest?” pondering for a second, you almost give the big guy a hug before it clicked in your brain to use your legs, he moves almost immediately. “He’s doing it!” Your smiling, excited with your small little accomplishment. “Good boy.” Caressing his long wispy mane as you slowly make your way toward John.

 “There we go, now try and keep up with me.” John goes from a simple walk into a trot. You give his chest another squeeze with your legs, your pace remains the same, you then give a go at digging your heels in. That gets him going a little faster. John goes from a trot to a sort of jog, so you follow suit. Your lower back and bottom bouncing up and down on the saddle uncomfortably.

 “Aren’t we going a little fast?” You cry out. John peeks over his shoulder with a blank confused look.

 “Uh, no? We can go way faster.” His eyes drift off before looking back at you, “Did you wanna go faster?”

 “No, I think that would be a bad idea. I don’t even know how to stop this thing.” Oh my lord, Tilly wasn’t exaggerating. John pulls to the side and slows down, keeping pace on your right. His horse was a considerable amount shorter than yours, causing his head to only reach as high as your shoulder. He sits up a little taller.  

 “You know, I’m the one who found the spot.”

 “Hm? The campsite?”

 “Yeah, I’m the one who found it. Not Arthur.” He spits out Arthur’s name with some disdain.

 “It’s nice.” A pocket of silence fills the air.

 “The foods been better, and I noticed my shirts are not so full of holes.” He clears his throat. “You do good work.”

 “Why are your shirts so fond of holes anyhow?” Your mind drifts to that notorious green shirt. “I swear some of the clothes have had blood on them too.” You watch him carefully from the corner of your eye. Trying to keep a casual, calm air about yourself. “You ought to be more careful.”

 “We uh- get into fights sometimes.” His response isn’t very confident. “But! I mean- we don’t start ‘em.” He steers his horse into yours, “Lets take a left up here.”

 Just what kind of fights are you getting into?

 “Arthur’s good in a fight. I got to see that first hand.” John gets quiet.  You dared a peek to see his face was in a scowl. “Where we goin’ anyway?”

 “There’s another spot I found, thought you’d like it.”

 “So that’s where you boys went? Sight-seeing?”

 “It ain’t like that, someone’s gotta make sure the way ahead is safe.”

 Safe from what?

 “Can’t say I’m not jealous. A break from camp would be nice every once in a while.”

 “Well, we can go riding anytime you want.”

 “I’m sure Grimshaw would not be too keen on the idea.” Another round of silence. The area around you is beginning to become much greener, blooming cactus, flourishing sage brush and a particular earthy smell permeates the air like a delicate perfume. Each step forward becomes an oasis of thriving plant life, and just as your about to ask how, you see it.

 A great pool of water extends the majority of the horizon, reflecting the bright light of the sun and creating a perfect mirror image of the surrounding environment. A small group of Big Horned Sheep could be seen taking a gracious drink off the tranquil water’s surface. Various kinds of birds nesting in the blooms of the Joshua trees providing a sweet melody. Everything was flourishing.

 John’s horse maneuvers itself in front of yours, bringing you to a stop and putting said riders face right in your line of view. “I figured you could come here when you need to… ya know.” His face flushes red. “Bathe.”

 You let out a huff of a laugh and a smirk. “You know, bathing isn’t my whole personality. But I appreciate it.” You both sit in silence as you take it all in. It actually began to make you emotional, tears brimming to the surface of your eyes. You attempt to keep composure but it’s in vain as John clearly notices.

 “A-are you ok?” He sounds almost frightened. No doubt caught off guard by your sudden decent into sadness.

 “I-I’m sorry.” You turn away from him, dabbing away at your eyes. Face scrunched painfully as you try your hardest to hold back the sob desperately trying to come up your throat. “I-I don’t know what’s come over me.” Your voice cracks as you speak. It’s an awkward silence as you fail to keep your feelings at bay. You almost don’t feel the couple soft taps on your shoulder.

 “It’ll be okay…” John attempts say comfortingly, though it comes out sounding more like a question. It was… very sweet of him.

 Your horse seems to dislike the change in mood as he winnies in agitation, swaying side to side before moving suddenly.

 “WHoawhoa-WHOA!!” You shriek in surprise as your horse bolts forward with vigor, your hands yanking on the reins causing him to simply jerk his head and rip them from your grip. “Ah!” your hands desperately grab for his neck, looping around the large and taught muscle before you feel your legs turn cold. Your horse had felt the sudden need to plunge himself directly into the water taking you with him. Your wide eyes meet John’s still in shock.

 “Guess he was hot.” John remarks. The horse let’s out a long grunty sigh that vibrates from underneath you. You’re up to your shoulders in water, soaking you from your socks to your underwear.

 And you laugh.

 A long joyous slip of bliss from your lips, the first in a long time. And it goes on and on and on. Leaving you breathless as you pitter down to little giggles, only to rev back into a fit. Slapping the horse gently on his side.

 “You-hoohoo silly horse- ahahaha!” You can hear John letting loose a few laughs as well.

 “Well, lookie here!” A new voice arises from the shoreline. It’s Arthur. Basking down at you from atop his trusty mare, leaning forward and a twinkle in his eye.

 “What’re you doin’ here?” John doesn’t look happy, eyeing Arthur up with a challenging look in his eyes.

 “Lookin’ for you two.” He attempts to smack John, who swerves harshly out the way nearly falling off his saddle. “You’ve got night watch.”

 “So do you!” John retorts in annoyance.

 “Yeah, and you better not fall asleep on me!” Arthur goes for another swing, this time landing upside John’s head with a smack.

 “Ow!” John’s face scrunches up into a scowl, he retaliates with a smack of his own that causes Arthur’s hat to fall forward into his face. You let out a soft giggle at the sight.

 Like a couple of toddlers.

 Arthur adjusts his hat back into place, clearing his throat before speaking to you in a much more tender tone.

 “You need some help there, ma’am?”

 “uhh…” you grab for the reins floating just on the water’s surface, giving them a pull upwards, backwards and to the side. But the horse simply remains submerged and relaxed. You swing yourself off it’s back, now soaking every inch of you completely. Wading towards the bank as both young men dismount to meet you. Arthur has his hands extended before John practically shoves him out of the way causing Arthur to exclaim an irritated “Hey!”. You’re assisted up and out of the pond, John’s hand lingering in yours long after your clearly on dry solid land.

 “Thanks.”

 John nods with an eager smile. “Course!”

 “You can let go of my hand now…”  

 “Oh uh! Yeah…” He stammers a bit, looking at your intwined hands before finally releasing you from his grip.

 “What about him?” You motion to the large horse still sitting unmoved.

 Arthur looks to John and nods his head towards the water. “You get him.”

 “What!? No way, you do it!”

 “I know you chose the horse. So, you get to pull him out.” Arthur corrals you to follow him back to Boadicea, throwing in one last remark to John before placing you just behind him.  “Maybe you’ll finally learn to swim!”

 John flips him off leaving Arthur to laugh as the two of you ride away.

 “He can’t swim?” You ask genuinely worried.

 “Yeah, so don’t go askin’ for lessons.”

 “Is he gonna be ok?” I mean you did just leave him all alone surrounded by a large body of water.

 “Little John knows how to take care of himself. Drowning won’t be what kills him.” You look back to see John hollering and waving a carrot around trying to get the horse’s attention.

 You only give an uncertain hum, falling quiet. You try not to get too close, for both personal space and to not soak his entire back with your still sopping wet clothes.

 You’d be lying if you said Arthur didn’t scare you. Out of everyone in camp, you knew the least about him. And with his clearly appropriate label as the muscle of camp, it worried you to think if and when he’d use that muscle on you.

 “We haven’t really had a chance to talk much, you and I.” Arthur speaks.

 “Well-“ You exhale, “-it’s been a strange couple of months. Not like I’ve been in the mood to talk anyway.”

 He responds with a hum. “How ya holdin’ up?”

 “I don’t know… I’ll feel ok for a while and then out of nowhere I’m having a mental breakdown.” You fidget with the sleeve of your blouse. “I’m not sure holding on is something I can do for too much longer.”

 “Well… it hasn’t been that long ago since… ya know. But things will get better miss. These things just take time.” He perks up a bit, “And hey, being able to laugh in your situation, I’d say you’re well on your way to healin’.”

 Your lips twitch into an almost small smile. “I sure hope so, it’s a lot to adjust to… And I can’t say how much I appreciate you all taking me in and giving me so much.”

 “What happened to you? If you don’t mind me askin’?”

 “I…I got lost…”

 “Lost?” He sounds confused.

 “But I can never go back home. I can never…” Your throat constricts with the thought of people you once knew flash across your mind. “I-I don’t want to talk about it…”  

 “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” And you both fall back into the awkward silence. The only sound being the muffled trotting of Boadicea’s hooves on soft sand.

 Arthur suddenly pulls Boadicea to a stop, causing you to squeeze his waist extra hard and smooshing your face against his broad back. Catching a whiff of cigarettes and… Oh god he needs a bath.

 “What? What’s wrong? Why are we stopping?” you quickly slip your arms away as he dismounts, grabbing a rifle from the saddle. You freeze up in fear as he meets your eyes and puts his finger to his lips.

 “Sshh…” he shushes softly. He lowers himself to the ground. Soft careful steps in the direction of a large cluster of brush. Your eyes scan the area finding nothing, fixing back to Arthur confused as to what in the world he’s doing.  

 He stops, stock still. Lifting the rifle to his shoulder before BANG and then another BANG. Making you jump each time. He proceeds to jog over to whatever he decided needed to die. His face is a light with a smile, rifle over one shoulder and two rabbits dangling from his hand held up with triumph.

 “Dinner!” he calls out. Swinging the carcasses over his shoulder. Making his way back to you, you spot dark splotches beginning to form on his shirt.

 Oh my god. It’s animal blood!

 A wave of relief falls over you, hand at your chest as you let go of so much stress and anxiety over that damned bloody shirt.

 “I was wondering where that blood came from.”  He looks at his now red stained shoulder as he ties a rabbit to each side of the saddle.

 “Oh yeah… sorry about that.” He attempts to wipe the blood off his hands before remounting, his hands now a bright pink. “I’ll wash this one, don’t worry about it.”

 “Oh? You know how to do your own laundry?”

 He laughs, “Yes, I know how to do laundry. Susan made sure of that.”

 “And you’re on a first name basis with her too it seems.” You notice the damp imprint you made on his back and can’t help but distance yourself from him a little more.

 “We’ve known each other a long time. I mean she practically raised me.”

 Raised him, so he was a kid when he joined up. My god that’s a long time.

 “Did you know your parents?”

 “I don’t remember much of my Mama, but my Daddy… I wish I didn’t remember much of him.” A bad father figure, not much of a surprise.

 “Must have been hard…”

 “Hard for everyone isn’t it?”

 “Yeah but… doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”

 He stays quiet for a moment before he speaks again, softly this time. “Your right… it don’t.” The conversation dies down after that. You make no effort to change that.

 You start to descend where the camp lies, completely hidden from view until you were basically walking in the front door. Once on the ground you utter a small “thank you” to Arthur. Turning to his horse

 “Thank you, girl.” You stroke her side gently; she eyes you with curiosity as if waiting for something. “Sorry I don’t have a treat for you.”

 “Here, give her this.” Arthur fishes around his bag before pulling out a round pale thing. You take it in your hand, inspecting it a moment. It was light and delicate. A rice cake without the rice. You offer it to Boadicea, palm open as she plucks it up with her big whiskery lips. And you let out an air of a laugh through your nose as she tickles your hand.

 “It was nice talking to you miss.” Arthur speaks with a smile, eyes shrouded by his hat, but you can still see the bright glint of his eyes. The two rabbits hanging over his shoulder.

 “It was nice talking to you too. I hope you sleep well.” You both awkwardly nod a goodbye as he departs.

   The second Arthur leaves your side, a new body takes his place. Samson towers over you and far too close for your liking. Taking two steps back, only for him to take two steps forward.

 “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” He utters with a far too innocent look.

 “What do you want?” you blurt out your question with no effort in sounding in the least bit interested in what he has to say.

 “I want to apologize for the terrible first impression I left on you that first night.” He waits for a response from you, you don’t give him one. “I don’t want us to start off on bad terms, I’m really not a bad fella.” You roll your eyes, it’s the stupid nice guy bullshit even in this era. Turning to leave before you feel his disgusting giant meaty paw clamp onto your forearm like a vice. “Wow wow! I’m not done talking!” He barks angrily, yanking you back to your spot right in front of him causing you to yelp. “I think we could be real good friends. But it takes two my dear.”

 “I don’t want to be your friend!” You spit out at him, yanking your arm only causing him to grip it even tighter. He smiles wide.

 “Good. Neither do I.” Your stomach twists at the way his eyes linger in intimate places as they rave up your body before they fall behind you. Smile dropping and hand quick to release, causing you to stumble back. Gentle hands find themselves cradling your shoulder, pushing you behind a body.

 “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?!” Arthur’s voice comes out deep and low. Eyes staring daggers into Samson as your hidden from view. His shoulders taught and raised like the hackles of a cat. In the moment Arthur seemed to tower over Samson.

 “Nothing, just a friendly chat.” Samson feigns ignorance. “Not like it’s your business anyhow.”

 “When it comes to the safety of the women, it’s my business.” Arthur barks loud and gruff. Samson seems to notice the little exchange is drawing attention, eyes from others peeking around corners and watching. He fidgets.

 “She’s fine, ain’t no hair out of place or bruise on her.” He dares to meet your eyes again, but his view is blocked by Arthur’s body once more. “Like I said, it was just a friendly chat.” And with his final statement he finally leaves.

 Only once he’s out of sight does Arthur relax. “You alright?” His voice no longer holding the animosity he had only seconds ago. Now soft and hushed. You cradle the arm, no marks or bruising. But the feeling of that dirty hand lingers like a burn.

 “Yeah… I’m ok.” Your eyes remain fixated on your hand now rubbing your forearm. “Thank you for stepping in…” Despite the tense situation, you didn’t feel uncomfortable. You felt safe, secure, calm. You can see him fidget in your peripheral. Shifting from foot to foot.

 “If he gives you trouble, you come to me, Alright?” You finally look up into his eyes, kind and concerned. Nothing like the way Samson was looking at you. You nod slowly.

 “I’ll come to you…” His eyes drift from each of your eyes a moment more, before he nods his head.

 “Ok… You be well Ma’am.” You watch as he leaves, hands twitching and shoulders adjusting themselves. He approaches Dutch and Hosea who were sitting and chatting away with cups of coffee. There smiles dissipate as Arthur speaks. Their gaze looking off in the direction of Samson and then they turn to you. Your eyes meet there’s for a split second before you turn away quickly. Wondering off to find a nice sunny spot to dry off and lie low for a while.

[southernageless]

Blog Post 8 - Research 2

Happy Monday Y'all!

Throughout the last 2 months and some odd weeks, I have found many benefits of the Pescatarian Diet. I wanted to see what the research looked like in relation to my personal findings.

According to Wozniak, "pescatarians were less likely to be obese (OR 0·18; 95 % CI 0·04, 0·75) and less hypercholesterolaemic (OR 0·53; 95 % CI 0·29, 0·95) when compared with omnivores." This was take from a study that was conducted for 13 years. I have noticed that, even if I have not lost a lot of weight, I am not bloated anymore and I am able to do strenuous tasks without stopping multiple times. A few months ago, the stairs winded me. Below is a table taken from Chen that shows the "average intake of different food groups per capita per day in Switzerland" for a Pescatarian (PST) diet in relation to the Swiss Society for Nutrition (RSN) recommendations

Table 1. Food consumption under different Swiss dietary scenarios. Food Items/Scenarios PST RSN Fruits 330 325 Vegetables 296 291 Legumes 23 26 Nuts and seeds 62 50 Cereals 192 124 Meat products 0 33 Fish & seafood 27 6 Eggs 31 18 Dairy products 307 330 Vegetable oils 71 26 Roots & tubers 230 149 Others 299 109 On average, those that follow a Pescatarian diet are meeting daily recommendations in every category except meat, and what they lose there, is made up with roots, vegetables, and others.

Also, shifting to a diet recommended by Swiss society of nutrition (RSN) will be the most beneficial for the environment, cutting down the daily food related environment footprint by ~36% on average across five domains considered here (Chen).

If I am able to not only better my own health, but also better the world around me, why would I not do it? There are Pescatarian options all around us. My boyfriend and I went to Whataburger the other day, and I had accepted I was going to be stuck with a salad, but alas! They had a fish sandwich meal! There is not any place that I can not go due to dietary restrictions, so why harm myself and the planet I live on when I can make a change?

Everyone is absolutely entitled to their beliefs, their practices, their diet choices. Until this project, I lived on chicken tenders. No matter where I ate, I got tenders and fries. I am so glad that I made this change, and I do not think I will go back.

Work cited:

Chen, Canxi, et al. “Dietary Change Scenarios and Implications for Environmental, Nutrition, Human Health and Economic Dimensions of Food Sustainability.” Nutrients, vol. 11, no. 4, Apr. 2019, p. 856. Crossref, https://doi.org/10.3390/nu11040856.

Wozniak, Hannah, et al. “Vegetarian, Pescatarian and Flexitarian Diets: Sociodemographic Determinants and Association with Cardiovascular Risk Factors in a Swiss Urban Population.” British Journal of Nutrition, vol. 124, no. 8, 2020, pp. 844–852., doi:10.1017/S0007114520001762.

[salanaii]

Bibimbap

비빔밥

Rice mixed with vegetables, meat, an egg, and chili pepper paste

Today’s recipe is bibimbap, a super-popular Korean dish you might have heard about already! It’s made of a bowl of rice, sautéed and seasoned vegetables (namul: 나물), a bit of hot pepper paste (gochujang: 고추장), and usually a bit of seasoned raw beef, too (yukhoe: 육회).

Bibim (비빔) translates as “mixed,” and bap (밥) means “cooked rice,” so bibimbap literally means “mixed rice.” Before eating it you’re supposed to mix everything all together.

There are many variations on this dish, from simple to elaborate, and this recipe I’m showing you today is for one you could consider “classic” bibimbap. If you ordered bibimbap in a Korean restaurant, you would probably get something like this dish, with regional variations. I’m also going to show you bibimbap prepared and served in a heated stone or earthenware bowl called dolsot-bibimbap (돌솥비빔밥). “Dolsot” means “stone pot” in Korean, and this version is well-known for the way the bowl makes a layer of crispy, crackling rice on the bottom of the bibimbap.

Even though we mix up bibimbap before we eat it, each ingredient needs to be prepared with care and individuality, bringing out their unique flavors, textures and colors so they come together beautifully in the bowl and deliciously in your mouth. The different ingredients aren’t random, they’re chosen because they balance, harmonize, and offset each other.

This recipe isn’t quick and easy, it takes some time to make. But if you’re really in a rush you can make a great bibimbap with the soybean sprouts, spinach, and carrot (or red bell pepper, or both), and gochujang, toasted sesame oil, and an egg— those items are unskippable!

I’m going to share some more bibimbap recipes on my website in the future, and you’ll see how many different variations there are. This version is a little different than the version in my cookbook, because I make a quick and simple soup with the bean sprouts. When I started my YouTube channel, bibimbap was one of the first recipes I made, because it’s such an essential dish in Korean cuisine. So I’m happy to remake the video now in HD with much better editing and instruction. I’ve been building up to this video by remaking videos for the ingredients, too. I remade yukhoe, and sigeumchi-namul, and my yukagaejang video has a lot of detail about preparing the mountain vegetable fernbrake.

So if you’ve been following my videos, you’re now ready to be a bibimbap master! Ready? Let’s start!

Ingredients (serves 4)

5 cups cooked short-grain rice

12 ounces soy bean sprouts, washed and drained

8 ounces of spinach blanched and washed with the excess water squeezed out by hand

1 large carrot

1 large red bell pepper

1 large zucchini

1 English cucumber

3 to 4 green onions, chopped

½ pound fresh lean cut of beef (fillet mignon, flank steak)

4 ounces fernbrake (gosari), fresh or soaked from ½ ounce dried gosari (details below)

1 ounce dried bellflower roots (doraji), soaked in cold water for 18 to 24 hours.

4 eggs

kosher salt

vegetable oil

toasted sesame oil

toasted sesame seeds

garlic

soy sauce

honey (or sugar)

Korean hot pepper paste (gochujang)

How to prepare dried fernbrake (gosari) for use

If you have presoaked or fresh fernbrake you can use it straight away, but if you have dried fernbrake you’ll need to get it ready to eat. It’s fast if you have a pressure cooker, but if you don’t it will take some time.

With a pressure cooker:

Wash ½ ounce of dried gosari and boil it with 5 cups of water in a pressure cooker for 30 minutes.

Drain and rinse in cold water a couple of times.

Drain. It should make 4 ounces.

In a pot on the stove:

In a large saucepan add ½ ounce of dried gosari to 7 cups of water. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat and boil for 30 minutes. Cover and let stand until cool, about 2 to 3 hours.

Rinse the fernbrake a couple of times, drain and put in a bowl. Cover with fresh cold water and let soak for at least 8 hours or overnight in a cool place, changing the water 2 or 3 times during the soaking.

Taste the gosari: It should be soft. If it’s tough, boil it again in a fresh pot of water for about 20 minutes and then let it sit, covered, until soft.

Drain. It should make 4 ounces.

Make rice

If you have a usual method for making rice or have a rice cooker, go ahead and make 5 cups of rice like you usually do. But here’s how I do it on a pot on the stove. 2 cups of dried rice makes about 5 cups of cooked rice.

Rinse 2 cups of rice in cold water and scrub the wet rice with your hand. Rinse and drain until the drained water is pretty clear.

Put the rice in a heavy-bottomed pot. Add 2 cups of water, cover, and soak for 30 minutes.

Cook over medium high heat for 7 to 8 minutes until the surface is covered with abundant bubbles that are spluttering noisily and look like they’re about to overflow the pot. Turn the rice over a few times with a spoon and cover the pot again.

Turn the heat to very low and simmer for another 10 minutes until the rice is fully cooked and fluffy. Remove from the heat.

Fluff the rice with a spoon to release excess steam. Let the rice stand, covered, at room temperature to keep it warm.

Prepare and cook the ingredients for bibimbap

I like to get a big platter and then put each vegetable on it as they’re ready. I think it looks really pretty, but you don’t have to do this. When all vegetables are prepared and ready to use, the platter looks pretty delicious!

Soybean sprouts:

Put the soy bean sprouts in a pot and add 4 cups water and 2 or 3 teaspoons salt. Cover and cook for 20 minutes over medium high heat. Take out the sprouts with tongs and put them into a bowl, leaving about ½ cup of sprouts in the pot with the water you used to boil them. This is the soup to serve with bibimbap later.

In a bowl, mix the sprouts by hand with ½ teaspoons salt, 1 teaspoon minced garlic, and 2 teaspoons toasted sesame oil. Put them on the large platter.

Spinach:

Cut up the blanched spinach a few times and put it in a bowl. Mix by hand with 1 teaspoon garlic, 1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil, ½ teaspoon kosher salt, and 1 teaspoon sesame seeds. Cover and put it next to the soy bean sprouts on the platter.

Other fresh vegetables:

Cut the carrot into matchsticks, put them in a bowl, and mix with a pinch of salt. Let stand for 5 to 10 minutes until sweating.

Cut the red bell pepper into halves, deseed, and slice into strips. Put them in a bowl.

Cut the zucchini into matchsticks and mix with ½ teaspoon kosher salt.

Cut the cucumber into halves lengthwise and slice thinly crosswise. Mix with ¼ teaspoon kosher salt.

Beef:

Cut the beef into matchsticks and put them in a bowl.

Mix with 1 tablespoon minced garlic, 1 tablespoon soy sauce, 1 tablespoon honey, 2 teaspoons toasted sesame oil, and 1 teaspoon sesame seeds with a spoon.

Cover and keep in the fridge until ready to use.

Mountain vegetables:

Cut the fernbrake (gosari) a few times into bite size pieces. Set aside.

Put the bellflower roots (doraji) in a large bowl. Add 1 or 2 tablespoons salt. Rub for a minute to wilt slightly and release some of the bitterness. Rinse them in cold water a couple of times and drain. If you find some roots are too thick, split them lengthwise. Set aside.

Let’s cook!

Heat up a pan over medium high heat. Squeeze out excess water from the carrot. Add a few drops of cooking oil to the pan and sauté the carrot for 1 minute. Put it on the platter next to the soy bean sprouts and spinach. Clean the pan with wet paper towel or wash it.

Heat a few drops of cooking oil in the pan and squeeze out the excess water from the cucumber. Sauté with ½ teaspoon minced garlic and a few drops of toasted sesame oil for 30 seconds. Put it on the platter. Clean the pan.

Heat up the pan with a few drops of cooking oil. Add the red bell pepper and sprinkle a pinch of salt over top. Sauté for 30 seconds. Put it on the platter. Clean the pan.

Heat up the pan and squeeze out excess water from the zucchini. Add a few drops of cooking oil and sauté with 1 teaspoon minced garlic, 1 tablespoon chopped green onion, a drop of toasted sesame oil for 1 minute until slightly softened. Put it on the platter. Clean the pan.

Heat up the pan with a few drops of cooking oil. Add the bellflower roots and sauté for 2 to 3 minutes. Lower the heat to medium so as not to brown them. Add 1 teaspoon minced garlic and a drop of toasted sesame oil. Stir for another minute until a little softened. Put it on the platter. Clean the pan.

Heat up the pan. Add a few drops of cooking oil. Stir the gosari for 2 minutes until a little softened. Add ½  teaspoon of minced garlic, 2 teaspoons soy sauce, and 2 teaspoons sugar, and keep stirring for another minute. Put it on the platter.

Serve

Here are a couple of ways to serve: bibimbap in a regular, shallow bowl, and dolsot-bibimbap in a stone or earthenware bowl.

In a regular, shallow bowl

Reheat the soybean sprout soup.

Divide the cooked rice into 4 portions. Each portion will be a little more than 1 cup of rice.

Put the rice in each of 4 bowls and arrange the vegetables and beef on the rice. Top with a raw egg yolk and gochujang. If you prefer your eggs and beef cooked, use a fried egg sunny side up and slightly pan-fry the beef before putting them on the top of rice.

Sprinkle the bibimbap with the sesame seeds and drizzle with sesame oil to taste.

Ladle the soup to a small bowl and sprinkle some chopped green onion over top.

Serve right away with more hot pepper paste on the side, and maybe kimchi too.

Dolsot-bibimbap in a hot earthenware bowl (ttukbaegi) or hot stone bowl (dolsot)

Reheat the soybean sprout soup.

Put a few drops of toasted sesame oil in the bottom of each of 4 earthenware bowls. They should be big enough to hold 4 to 6 cups each.

Divide the rice among the bowls. Arrange the vegetables and beef on the rice. Top each serving with a raw egg yolk and 1 tablespoon gochujang. If you prefer your eggs and beef cooked, use a fried egg sunny side up and slightly pan-fry the beef before putting them on the top of rice.

Set each pot on a burner. Heat over medium high heat until you hear a ticking, crackling sound coming from the rice.

Sprinkle the bibimbap with the sesame seeds, drizzle with sesame oil to taste.

Ladle the soup to a small bowl and sprinkle some chopped green onion over top.

Serve right away with more hot pepper paste on the side and maybe kimchi too.

Eat

Gently but firmly mix everything together in the bowl with your spoon. Try not to crush the more delicate ingredients.

Eat with your spoon.

Posted on Sunday, January 6th, 2008 at 11:14 pm. Last updated on September 18, 2022.

[council-of-beetroot]

Alright here's some tips from someone who has worked in produce for half a decade in an organic produce store.

• shop in season and keep in mind your geographic location. The foods that are local to your area are more likely to cost less than those that require transportation costs. Watermelon is cheap as fuck but only in the summer and you get more bang for your buck with squash in the fall and winter.

• at my place sometimes there are deals with farmers for example where we get local produce and we are practically giving it away since we have so much. For example you can currently get 10lbs of organic onions at my store for $5 due to excess. If you live in an agricultural heavy area you might find things like this so keep a lookout

Most to least expensive produce link here

Cheapest produce

Potatoes

Onions

Cabbage

Beets

Bananas

Most legumes

Butternut squash

Turnips

Lettuce but only if it's quality lettuce. If there is one vegetable that always has recalls it's lettuce.

Basically my philosophy is eat like my eastern European peasant ancestors albeit without the starvation. Barszcz, potatoes, kapusta is all fairly cheap where I live and so I get a lot from it, onions are cheap and you can't go wrong with them. I'm most familiar with eastern European cooking but I'm am certain other culinary traditions have perfected eating on a budget and if you find a cuisine you like they often use variations of the same selection of produce so this can help save money but allow for variation in meals if you can't afford to buy a wide variety of produce.

• Sometimes the prepared stuff may cost more but it might end up saving you in the long run as you are more likely to use it.

• if you find yourself throwing away a lot of produce you might be buying too much.

• if you only need a certain amount take it if you can. Often these things are packaged so people buy more than they think they are or more than they need. Sometimes those bags of apples or oranges are packed to the brim and then people are surprised when they learn they have 7lbs of apples.

• knowing how to properly store things so they last. Keep potatoes in bags in a dark cabinet, some produce will release compounds that will ripen the other vegetables so keep these separate. Remove the leaves from tomatoes, carrots, and beets,

•lemons and ginger root can be frozen

• keep asparagus like you would cut flowers and keep the ends in water.

• you can do a lot with a few ingredients so look for recipes that use less but still are worth it

• things like avocadoes, grapes, and berries are really expensive usually unless it's a certain time of year in the case of berries.

• if you're like me who has been working in organic produce there is often a difference in quality among organic versus not organic. However there are some produce that you don't necessarily need to buy organic as they are generally safe to consume.

Obligatory disclaimer that I know everyone's financial situation is different so this may be helpful for some but not everyone. And i only have access to abundant produce when I am working and when I'm at uni I have very infrequent access to grocery stores so I understand that in some areas it's impossible to find good healthy food at all.

made some affirmations for my fellow grocery shoppers out there

[jensownzoo]

Thought I’d post this quick found item garden project I slapped together last weekend:

The stairs were salvaged from one neighbor in late winter—I didn’t need them as stairs and had vague ideas of knocking it apart for the lumber for the new chicken coop/run, but then I found and spray-paint refreshed some old window box-style planters and a different purpose emerged. I salvaged a 4x4 and some 2x4s from the outdoor small remodel of a local bar. Sawed the 4x4 in half to use for “legs” and the shorter 2x4s to brace it (using the screws removed from all this lumber).

Now I have a nice set-up by the garage for those window boxes.

The green planter has a much-abused purchased begonia (the wildlife would NOT quit digging it up), some red geraniums taken from cuttings from plants I rescued from the dumpster in the fall (potted up and overwintered inside), and some mixed coleus I grew from purchased seed.

The top orange planter has a mix of seed collected from two vining plants on my walks last fall—one is perennial pea vine, the other has a morning glory-like red/yellow flower that I haven’t identified. The next two planters have collected fennel seed (the type you grow for seed instead of vegetables). It would be nice to get some new fennel seed from them, but mainly growing them for the swallowtail caterpillars after having to remove a half-dozen of them from my vegetable fennel earlier in the spring. This way I’ll have somewhere to relocate them where they can survive. The last planter has nicotiana seed that I seed-saved from my own plants. The two plants I overwintered and replanted in the garden started blooming immediately, which was nice to have in early spring and I’d like to do that again.

On an unrelated gardening note, a week and a half ago I found myself with a package of baby yellow waxy potatoes that had sprouted so hard they looked bearded with root hairs. I already had volunteer potato plants at one end of a raised bed I’m composting in this year, so I just went ahead and planted the little potatoes throughout the rest of the bed. It actually does have dirt on top of all the composting stuff since I had extra heavy clay dirt from the new in-ground bed I made from the lawn this spring. I just mixed some of the underlying leaf litter into the clay and plunked them in. Sprouts showed up yesterday and continued to push through the covering straw today. Think I’ll give it a dusting with alfalfa meal before the rain tomorrow night to counteract some of the potential nitrogen depletion in the underlying material (there are a lot of twigs/branches) and just see what happens.

[autumnalwalker]

A Dream About Two Trees

I am a visitor in an unfamiliar city.  I wander down an alley and find myself overlooking a square pit the size of a city block, dominated by a great tree that would rival the surrounding buildings in height were it not down in this hole. Its sprawling roots are often thicker around than a grown man, and in the spaces between those roots ferns and flowers grow with wild abandon.  Any sign of the city’s ubiquitous concrete and steel within the pit is covered up with moss and vines.  Even the grating of the fire escape-like stairs that I descend is intertwined with leafy creepers.  Up close, I begin to suspect the great tree is in fact many trees grown and grafted and intertwined into one. 

To find this seemingly forgotten green in the midst of this jungle of gray is a profoundly moving experience. 

Later, back in my hotel, I have a dream, or perhaps a vision.  A voice tells me that there is a second tree nearby the one I found, in a similar pit isolated from the city.  This second tree is just as tall, but thinner, a singular trunk of white bark, like a birch but subtly off.  Or perhaps not “off” but “more.”  The grounds around this second tree are tidy and carefully maintained. 

The voice tells me that there is a spiritual aspect to both trees.  “My” tree of green is the tree of Nature and Life itself.  The tree of white is the tree of a God of Light, well-meaning and benevolent in intent but arrogant enough to believe that He is alone in His divinity with a monopoly on virtue.  Both trees are beset by illness.  Pustules plague their roots and must needs be lanced and cleaned of their foul fluids to keep the trees healthy.  The tree of white has a caretaker; a devotee of the God of Light.  The voice beseeches me to convert her to care for the green. 

The next morning my brother and I have a final, utterly mundane errand to attend to before we leave the city.  That errand will take us near the trees and I wish to show them to my brother while I have the chance.  The subway could take us close to our destination but it is not that far, so we choose to walk for additional sightseeing.  

We get a little lost and come to another pit block, filled with water green from algae.  Beneath the water I can see the stump of a great tree.   For a moment I fear the tree I saw yesterday has been cut down, but then I glimpse its leaves over the top of the pit’s far wall.  This flooded space is related to the tree of green though in a way I can intuit but not quite articulate. 

We backtrack and find a narrow alleyway that should lead us around.  An open door in the side of the alley with a rake leaned across its entrance reveals another secondary pit, this one housing a lush vegetable garden that nearly overflows the wide expanse in a riot of color.  There are other tools around; signs that the vast garden is maintained, but currently there are no people.  As the flooded area was linked to the tree of green, this garden is linked to the tree of white.

As we approach reach the end of the dark alleyway we come to an open door, through which light spills forth with a glimpse of the tree of white.  We don’t realize until we step through that the door does not lead directly into the tree’s pit but into a small home or shack with a broad window overlooking the tree of white. 

We walk in on a young woman watching anime on her phone while she leans against an island countertop in the middle of a room cluttered with electronics, houseplants, and gardening implements.  There is a period of awkwardness as we make our apologies and explain the misunderstanding, but she is surprisingly welcoming.  I ask what she was watching and she is happy to tell me.  I do not recognize the title, but she makes it sound interesting enough that I make a mental note to look it up later. 

She appears to live here with a cat and two small dogs.  One of the dogs, white and soft-furred, lays on the floor, looking out the open door by the end of the long window at the tree of white.  The dog reminds me of one I had as a child and I kneel down to pet it.  Its fur is curlier and woolier than I expect.   It knocks me off balance and then crawls into my lap.  The woman laughs and comments on how the dog and I seem to have taken a liking to one another.  I realize the dog is wearing sunglasses. 

I gather that this woman is the caretaker of the tree of white.  I recall my charge from the voice, but do not have it in me to try to convert someone from their faith.  And besides, I feel my own calling from the tree of green.  Perhaps I should stay in this city and become that caretaker myself.  I would have a kind enough neighbor at any rate. 

[crispyfryenperu]

Faenas, Oysters, Life in Site

Saturday I was with the Calango JASS, clearing weeds and shrubbery from the water source and captacion.  I learned our water source, a “manantial,” is not a spring, as I have been telling everyone. A manantial is actually cold water that runs from the Andes, down towards the coast. The water runs under the mountains though, and comes out either from the ground or from the mountains. We cut many stalks which the operator took home to feed his farm of cuyes (hamsters), and I spent 3 hours pulling out vines and roots from the water. We shared an Inka Cola and some boiled water I brought in my hydro flask. The La Capilla JASS was supposed to come as well, but we changed the date and forgot to communicate to them - 50% my fault and 50% the fault of Calango’s JASS president. La Capilla JASS not showing up caused big waves and complaints that they never help in faenas! I should have known better because in my farthest districts, they fight over the water, all because of bad coordination in faenas where people weren’t able to show up. In all of my districts however, cell reception comes perhaps for half an hour a day, and the older men who run the systems only call, no text, no voicemails, so coordinating can be almost impossible, especially from the perspective of those from the main town, who DO have  cell service. It’s best, but difficult, to coordinate in person. 

My socio and friend, el Señor Medina making friends with a kitten he held for our 2-hour meeting.

Sunday i had a faena with the Aymara JASS, I don’t know why they wanted to meet at 7 am, so I had to wake up at 6 am, speed stuff a pineapple slice in my mouth, and grab 1 of the 3 pieces of bread from the gate (the baker leaves us 3 pieces every day at the front gate), then wait 10 minutes for the combi to take me down, arrive on time but be the second person there. Everyone arrived within 20 minutes, and we went to a spot of the water system that was covered in plants, because somehow they knew there was a leak there. I guess the plants were the signifier, but plants covered a very large area of land, so it doesn’t make that much sense to me. Here we also pulled out a ton of vegetation and bushes, then dug down to the buried tubes and continued along the pipe until we found the leak. Once we finished, we went to the reservoirs which are located in one of the invasiones (new, young towns) that still doesn’t have connections to the water system, only a public faucet. But for some reason the reservoirs which provide water to most of that district are located in that invasion. The reservoirs have some leaks so there were plants growing there, again we went at them with machetes, an oz, and a shovel. We drank Inka cola and ate some lays chips and non-spicy hot cheeto puffs. I shared my hydroflask of water from the main town, and the JASS of immediately noticed it was chlorinated water. I never even notice if my water is chlorinated, and you probably don’t either, but I’m glad they pointed it out to me, as all of the water drinkers from their district also notice, hate, and complain about any concentration of chlorine we try to put in their water. 

Monday I finally visited the comedor popular (like a soup kitchen), and helped cook. I chose Monday because I really thought they would be participating in “lentejas lunes,” and I would get to eat some lentils, but instead they made picante de machas. Machas are like oysters I guess, and I spent more than an hour hacking and scraping out the poop of the machas. they’re kind of stretchy so sometimes the macha juice and even poop would fling back at me. Afterwards, I was invited to eat some of the “minestrone soup” that had chancho (pork) in it, minus the pork chunks. Sometimes I think about going back to eating meat but then I do something like clean the poop out of clams…

[the-world-annealing]

Witnessing Orcs: Health and physiology

Diet On this point, at least, common wisdom has it mostly correct. Orcs indeed are obligate carnivores, and little of what they eat is plant-based. Orcs lack the ability to digest most leafy greens and root vegetables, and cannot digest milk after reaching adulthood (though the latter is typically only relevant for those orcs consuming human food).

Though I have not seen a human’s innards firsthand, on comparing drawings of them with my memories of the orcs, I note that orcs seem to have a larger stomach, shorter intestines, and a notably larger liver. The kidneys are slightly different in hue and shape, and the tubes that connect them to the bladder are much thicker.

Injury Orcs are somewhat more resistant to pain than humans, or at least less prone to showing it. Their skin is tough and their blood clots quickly, allowing orcs to ignore most minor scrapes and cuts. More severe wounds are prone to scarring as they heal: combined with the orcish tendency to wear little armor, scarring is so frequent that the first humans examining orc corpses believed it to be intentionally inflicted for ritual purposes (it almost never is).

The bones of orcs are denser and stronger than those of humans. However, broken bones, even when set, tend not to heal cleanly, causing physical disfigurations and notably impaired use of the broken limb. The bones of orcs have one additional notable property, which I will expound upon when discussing technology. The orcish resistance to illness is not limited to their bowels: in my time among them I only rarely noted wounds becoming infected, though injuries were not uncommon.

Aging and death Some have noted the apparent youthfulness of orcs: only rarely does an orc exhibit the stooped posture, greying hairs, and balding head that humans associate with age. One particularly ludicrous observer suggested that perhaps, orcs are like elves: immortal, or at least extremely long-lived. Another suggested that old orcs hide themselves away, and care for the young and ill. All this is nonsense. Orcs are not immortal, and the oldest among them take no special role upon themselves.

Orcs mature quickly: after twelve summers, they exhibit the physical and mental development of a human eighteen-year-old. They continue to grow for the next eight to ten years of their life, at which point they begin declining in physical strength, as could be expected from a human who passed the age of thirty-five.

If, by the age of thirty, an orc has not yet succumbed to violence, disease, hunger, infection, or some other grim fate, they begin to suffer progressively worsening amnesia, difficulty with language, irritability, and bouts of spontaneous aggression. At the same time, physical ability takes a rapid decline and all body hair begins to gray: for this reason, the process is called (translated from the orcish language) the Ashing. For most orcs, death is quick after the onset of this process. In a few orcs, for unclear reasons, the Ashing progresses much more slowly: these may live to be as old as fourty. In half-orcs, the process is absent entirely (although a source I could not verify claimed that the child of two half-orcs might display it, and die at much the same age an orc would), and half-orcs thus live well past sixty.

Reproduction and pregnancy All who have heard thrilling tales of slime-filled pits, alchemist’s cauldrons, and profane rites, I must disappoint: orc reproduction is a startlingly mundane affair, with no significant differences between it and the human equivalent. Pregnancy lasts for nine months and produces a child the same size as a human baby (a factor relevant to the two species compatibility), but the greater size of an orc body results in a lower overall impact of pregnancy and birth, and consequently a faster recovery time. Orcs nurse their children, as humans do, and gradually complement this with more solid foods. Meat is often pre-chewed before being fed to young children.

Twins are somewhat more common among orcs than among humans, and are not viewed with the same significance that they have received in some human cultures. Triplets are viewed as portentous, but only when they contain two boys and a girl. In such a case, the children are associated with the three gods (the firstborn boy with Gruumsh and the lastborn with Yurtrus), and they are given duties and rights befitting of a divine destiny.

[chrysalispen]

Prompt #12 - Miss the Boat

AO3 LINK HERE

Fill under the cut.

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

Despite the bright light of the noonday sun overhead - a rare clear day in Coerthas - there was no warmth in it. Even today the wind was still brutal enough to numb Cid's cheeks at this elevation, and as he made his way across the Crozier's plaza with a bag full of potatoes, parsnips, and other assorted root vegetables, he found himself already missing the roaring fires of the Manufactory.

The young Lord Haillenarte was every bit as eccentric as he was rumored to be, but he kept a warm hearth and good conversation. Cid hadn't had discussions this edifying or fascinating since... hells, how long had it been? Probably not since he and Nero had been classmates at the Academy, if he were to be perfectly honest with himself. The two of them had often stayed up late nights tossing a wild theory or a difficult problem back and forth like hot potatoes, and to his own surprise he'd felt brief flashes of that old camaraderie return back at the Syrcus Tower dig site more than once.

"I hadn't thought to see the day you would end up some Ishgardian lord's errand boy, Garlond. Truly, Eorzea has changed you."

Cid sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Clearly it was going to be one of those discussions- not that his conversations with Nero went otherwise very often these days. 

"Typical. I vouch for you with the Temple Knights after you show up unannounced at the Steps, with forged papers, pretending to be one of my employees," he grunted, setting the bag down, "and sarcasm is how you repay me."

"My stock in trade. I'm so pleased you noticed."

He squinted into the harsh sunlight. "You could stand to be a bit grateful, Nero," he said. "Anyone else might have left you to rot in their gaol."

"Worse than a castrum brig, is it?" 

"You don't want to know what the Holy See does to its prisoners."

Nero didn't appear all that bothered by the prospect if his nonchalant shrug was aught to go by.

"The thought did cross my mind, but I wasn't overly concerned, Garlond. You've always been a soft touch."

"Keep that sweet talk up and I'll hand you over to Ser Aymeric." He reached into the pocket of his carbonweave windbreaker and produced a pen and the list he'd hastily scribbled out. It was rather the worse for wear after an initial shove and a bell or so crumpled beneath the odds and ends and electrical components he usually kept on hand. "And if you're going to follow me around and do a bit-"

" 'Do a bit?' " 

"Offer snide commentary upon everything I do."

"As is my wont-"

"You can make yourself useful. Here."

Before Nero could protest he found the bulky burlap sack lifted from the icy stones and unceremoniously dumped in his lap; only a hasty scramble kept it from falling to the ground and spilling its contents. "I did not volunteer for this."

"You volunteered the moment you claimed to be under my employ. Consider it your first Ironworks assignment." Ignoring Nero's offended glare, Cid turned his attention back to the faded scrawl of his handwriting. "...Right, so that's all the veg accounted for. That just leaves the capons."

Nero started to laugh. 

"I was jesting. You really are running his errands?"

"It's a surprise, Nero, not an errand. The Starlight observances begin tomorrow evening-- think Saturnalia, but without the light vigils. They've their own traditions, of course, but the gift exchanges and the food should strike you familiar."

"So this is for a feast, then."

"A feast meant for a lord's table," Cid shoved the list and the pen back into his pocket. "I thought to thank him and his employees on the Ironworks' behalf for their hospitality. This is more food than many will have seen in a year's time. A number of them make their homes in the Brume, you see."

Nero had seen the slums on his way into the city. He remembered the sight of children with faces older than his own, huddled in the corners of half-demolished buildings and charred wooden bones, anything that might serve as a break against the wind and snow, watching his progression across the bridge with the wary eyes of feral kittens.

The thought was sobering enough to put a damper on his otherwise decent mood. Another blast of icy wind tunneled its way across the cobblestones and Nero shoved his hands in his own pockets. Lack of creature comforts and magitek notwithstanding, certain things about Ishgard did remind him uncomfortably of Garlemald.

"By all means, then, let's get it done before the wind turns us both to ice statues." Nero shrugged, stood, and hoisted the bag over one shoulder. "Lead the way."

Cid raised an eyebrow but pointed down the street at one of the stands. A faded yellow cloth fluttered like a lady's favor amidst the cluster of colored tarpaulins, and Nero followed him without further comment. 

The butcher's wife greeted them with the usual Ishgardian brand of polite caution, something Cid had grown accustomed to in the weeks he'd spent there. The Holy See so rarely allowed foreigners of any stripe past its borders but the Warrior of Light's exploits against the Dravanians seemed to have thawed their stance somewhat. No doubt it was Aurelia's influence that had prompted the invitation from House Haillenarte to work with the Manufactory, for reasons various and sundry, and Cid reminded himself to thank her next time they crossed paths.

It occurred to him after some few minutes passed that the conversation had fallen silent for an unusually long stretch without even a spare jeer at his expense to be heard. Reaching into his coin pouch on his belt, Cid spared a glance over his shoulder and realized that Nero was not talking to him because he was staring at something: bent upon whatever it was with the sort of concentration he spared only for one of his pet projects.

"Thank you kindly for your patronage, good ser," the woman said, clearing her throat, and when his attention had returned to her she offered Cid a winsome smile. "I'll go fetch the birds and truss them for you, if you're willing to wait a moment or two."

"Yes, by all means. Thank you."

She lifted a cloth flap at the back of the stall and opened a door, then stepped through and was gone, leaving the two engineers alone for a moment. Cid stepped forward to follow Nero's line of sight and as he did, he caught the sound of a familiar laugh. 

He'd known that Aurelia was in town, of course; House Fortemps had taken in the remaining Scions as wards. So he wasn't surprised to see her there in the Crozier, as it stood adjacent to the Pillars. Her present company was no surprise either. Lord Haurchefant was known to be a Fortemps knight, and had likely offered to show her about the city.

They stood in front of a weaver's stall, Lord Haurchefant's arm about her overcoat-clad shoulders as if to protect her from the wind. The vendor was unraveling a bolt of rose-colored damask, gesturing at the fabric as he did so. Lord Haurchefant said something, and with a toss of honey-blonde hair Aurelia tilted her head back to laugh once more, clutching at his arm.

Cid folded his arms across his chest. Nero for his part stood very still. He appeared all but frozen in place. 

"Haurchefant Greystone," Cid said, by way of explanation. The two had their backs turned to the street and had not noticed them, and he watched as the knight began to speak with the weaver-- much to his Garlean companion's apparent dismay. "A knight of House Fortemps and the Warrior of Light's particular friend. He's a very good sort of man."

"How long has-"

"Since she arrived in the city, I would imagine. They were friends well before that." Cid raised his brows. "Why? Should she have asked your permission first?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Garlond," Nero said curtly. "I have no connection to your pet eikon-slayer whatsoever, beyond the debt I owe to her. She may consort with whomever she chooses. As do I."

The door opened at their backs; the butcher's wife had returned with a full sack in hand, which she held out to him. Cid took it from her with a smile and a word of thanks, shouldered the bag (carefully, so as not to jostle the meat overmuch), and looked up at his old classmate. 

Nero was still watching the couple across the street. His mouth was set in a grim downward tilt, jaw tight, periwinkle eyes looking for all the world as if the shadow of an encroaching thunderstorm had cast a pall over their usual flinty sharpness.

"It goes without saying, I guess, but I'd wager that ship may have sailed," Cid said, not without a certain sympathy. He did understand-- it was a pattern of behavior Nero had followed in his relationships as long as they'd known each other. Even with Cid himself. "But you told her yourself that it was naught save a fling, so I really don't know what you expected."

Without waiting for a response he began to make his way back towards the plaza. Nero would follow him eventually. He always did, in his own time.