#but the thing there is her native tongue is also /ancient/ so it's not even common language

[seaofserene]

frankly i'm still indecisive of where exactly she's from in terms of real world setting but i think i've mostly settled on 'undetermined mediterranean'

[illuminatedquill]

Story Summary: Takes place post-Ahsoka S1. Stranded on Peridea, Sabine, Ahsoka, and Huyang pass the time listening to tales of Ezra from the Noti, one of which reveals the origin of their mysterious starbird medallions.

Happy Birthday to the one and only @alphaofdarkness! Hope it was a good one this year and thank you for being such a lovely friend and super talented artist for our fandom.

It had been another long day of travel for the Noti convoy and their new protectors. In the week since Thrawn, his Imperial Remnant, and a stowaway Ezra had made the escape back to their home galaxy, things had since settled down back into a mundane routine.

As evening fell, the Noti prepared a feast to celebrate another safe journey. In middle of camp, a massive cauldron hovered over a fire, boiling with some delicious smelling stew. Ahsoka took a sniff, her stomach rumbling at the aromas drifting in her direction on the gentle night breeze. Folding her cloak over her body more snugly, she took mental stock of their journey so far.

The nomadic bandit clans that roamed the wastelands of Peridea were dangerous, despite their primitive weaponry. The Noti had no real way of defending themselves, outside of the rock-like shells that were an extension of their physicality. But Ezra's presence had clearly left a mark; the turtle people were resilient and clever, relying on their wits and ingenious solutions to avoid a head-on confrontation with their ancient enemy.

It probably also helped that they now had two Jedi to protect them, instead of one. Although two was admittedly a stretch since Sabine was in training. She had pulled off some amazing feats of the Force since her reunion with Ezra, but her ability to wield it fully was still erratic.

Ahsoka wasn't worried, however. They had nothing but time now and Sabine was a fast learner . . . once she actually started listening, that is.

Sitting on wooden stump that serviced comfortably as a seat, the smell of tonight's dinner wafted through the air; a thick, creamy seafood broth that was a Noti specialty, according to Huyang. The droid had been chatting constantly with the turtle folk in attempt to learn their native tongue to better learn about their culture and facilitate easier lines of communication in case of emergency. Ahsoka had been trying to learn the language herself but could still only understand it roughly and was still unable to speak it.

Huyang stood near the fire, observing the Noti cooking. His vocabulator emitted a strange series of chirps and clicking sounds to which the turtle people responded in kind. When they finished, Huyang's mechanical head turned to find Ahsoka. She waved at him from her spot on the rock, a few meters away.

He gave a thumbs up. She blinked at him and then - hesitantly - gave one in return.

Familiar footsteps came up behind her. "Seems like we'll actually be able to taste tonight's supper then," remarked Sabine.

Ahsoka smiled, turning to find her padawan squatting down to take in the scenery before her. Every night, the two of them would take turns patrolling the perimeter, ready to send an alarm in case of a late-night bandit attack. So far, the bandits didn't seem interested in the Noti throughout this latest journey.

In fact, they seemed eerily quiet. The Noti elders had said that it was unusual - but not uncommon - for the bandits to not be seen for quite some time. There was no centralized leadership among the bandit clans; they were all separate and distinct, sometimes warring amongst themselves.

Ahsoka hoped that was the case. She knew that her and Sabine were not the only ones on the planet: Baylan Skoll, a fallen Jedi, and his apprentice, Shin Hati were also here. Whether they were together or plotting separately, only one thing was sure: neither of them were up to anything good.

But that was a problem for another day. For tonight, she would focus on the present and enjoy a relaxing evening after a productive day with some good food.

"You think that's what Huyang's thumbs up was about?" Ahsoka asked.

Sabine shrugged. The Jedi noticed the glassy, vacant look in the young Mandalorian's eyes. Her body was physically present, but Ahsoka knew that Sabine's mind - and heart - were elsewhere.

With Ezra.

Despite her reassurances that Ezra had made it home, she knew the young woman remained worried about him. Her feelings for him still burned bright after their long-awaited reunion. If anything, Sabine's feeling had only intensified since then.

Ahsoka prodded her gently. "All quiet out there?"

"Nothing but the wind," Sabine replied. "Maybe some tumbleweeds."

"Good to know."

A small Noti came up beside them then, tugging at Sabine's sleeve. She blinked and focused on the little turtle alien. "Hey, Fred," she said politely. "What have you got there?"

"Fred?" Ahsoka was surprised that Sabine knew the Noti's name. "How did you know his name was Fred?"

Sabine grinned at her. "I called him Fred. Didn't seem to mind. Now it's his name. Simple."

The Jedi snorted. That was her padawan's casual slant on things, alright.

The Noti - Fred - produced from his ratty shirt an unfamiliar object. It was round, in the shape of a medallion, but not too large since it fit in his hand. It was carved from pale wood that was native to the trees that grew on Peridea and painted on it in dark orange hues was a symbol.

"Looks like the New Republic symbol," Ahsoka murmured. She turned to Sabine, about to ask for her guess -

And was hit with a wave of melancholy and regret through the Force. Sabine stared down at the little wooden medallion with sad eyes.

"Sabine?" asked Ahsoka. "What's wrong?"

For a long moment, she thought Sabine hadn't heard her. Then, quietly, she heard an answer, whisper soft: "Ezra made these."

Fred jumped excitedly at the mention of Ezra. "Ezra Bridger!" he squealed, pointing at the medallion and then at one of Sabine's shoulder pauldrons.

"Really? You're sure?"

"She is correct, Lady Tano," came Huyang's voice. He had made his way over to them, joining the discussion. "Master Bridger did indeed craft these medallions for the Noti."

Ahsoka looked at the droid and then back to Sabine. Suddenly Sabine's outburst of feelings made sense.

"It's not the New Republic symbol, is it," she said. "It's something else that looks similar to it."

Sabine sat down on the ground; head bowed in sudden grief. She didn't reply.

"It is Lady Wren's symbol," Huyang answered instead. "Her personal Starbird, if I'm not mistaken."

Sabine remained silent. Ahsoka frowned and asked, "Why did Ezra make these?"

Huyang turned and knelt in front of Fred, relaying the question in the Noti's language. Fred chittered something back, making exaggerated hand movements all the while.

Finally, Huyang finished the translation. "Fred says that the medallions are charms to ward off fear. The starbird symbol on them makes them brave."

That elicited a reaction from Sabine. A choked sound that was half-laughter, half-sob. "Of course he would," Ahsoka heard her mutter.

She poked her padawan. "Care to elaborate?"

Sabine looked up, eyes glistening. "There are no birds on Peridea," she explained, her voice rough with emotion. "He couldn't give them a feather."

Ahsoka glanced at Huyang. The droid merely shrugged.

"I'm not following," Ahsoka said.

Sabine was quiet for a moment, struggling to regain her composure. The Jedi waited patiently, knowing how difficult it was for her padawan. Anything regarding Ezra was always a touchy subject for Sabine.

The young woman took a deep breath and began to speak, her voice soft. "When we were younger - still traveling on the Ghost with everyone, that is - I told Ezra a story about the starbird once."

Fred sat in front of Sabine, stubbly legs crossed, looking enraptured. Ahsoka felt amused. Despite the language barrier, the Noti still seemed interested.

Ahsoka turned to Huyang. "Translate for Fred, if you don't mind?"

"Not at all, Lady Tano."

Sabine blinked. "You want me to tell the story?"

"Well," Ahsoka pointed out gently, "seems like you want to tell it, Sabine."

She cocked her head. "I don't understand."

"That's fine. Just keep telling the story. It sounds lovely."

Sabine sighed. "Another lesson, huh. Fine, have it your way."

Her expression turned thoughtful, and then she began telling the tale.

"A long time ago, the first space travelers learned the secrets of hyperspace. At least they could be free of the confines of their lonely planets and travel to far beyond. They built ships and flew them into the void between planets, in the hopes of seeing what the vast galaxy had to offer. But, very quickly, they became lost. The planets were so far away and there was nothing to mark the path; no guide to point the way forward or back in the endless, deep dark. "

Ahsoka smiled, enjoying the vivid imagery her padawan was invoking. She was a natural storyteller, whether Sabine believed it or not.

Sabine leaned forward; eyes sparkling as she continued the story.

"For you see, there were no stars back then. None existed, as they do on this evening, brightening up the night sky. All those people, lost in the dark, with no way to go home. They were scared. In the void of infinite space, they cried out for anyone - anything - to save them."

A couple more Noti had come over to join them now, forming a small circle around Sabine. Huyang continued to translate, his voice chattering away in the Noti's tongue.

"Then the starbirds came. From where, no one really knows. But they came through the darkness, their feathers shining so brightly. To the weary and scared travelers, they each offered a simple trade:

'Give me some of your fear and, in return, I will give you some of my courage.'

"The travelers agreed, awed by the majestic beauty of the starbirds - but even more awed at their generosity and compassion. And so, the trade was made, over and over again. Because fear is never gone forever, right? Again and again, they fell into fear. Again and again, the starbirds gave them courage. And that courage came in the form of a feather."

Sabine pointed up at the night sky. "Starbird feathers burn forever, did you know? Whenever the travelers became scared, the starbirds left a feather to light their way. And that's how the first stars came into being. Guiding lights to shine their way home."

Ahsoka reached out to Fred and lifted up his medallion. "He had no feathers to give," she said out loud, understanding dawning her on Sabine's earlier statement.

The young woman nodded, smiling. "No birds on Peridea. No feathers to give. So, Ezra did the next best thing; he gave them the image of a starbird."

Huyang interjected with a sudden question. "I had heard of an ancient Mandalorian saying: 'May the Starbird come for you.'"

"Yes," Sabine said. "It originated from that tale. My people used to say it as a form of well-wishes, when undertaking a long journey."

"My understanding, however, is that the phrase was intended as a curse," Huyang said.

Ahsoka watched her padawan's face darken for a moment. "It can be meant as one," Sabine admitted reluctantly. "In some of the other stories about starbirds, they were used as weapons to punish our enemies."

Her eyes flashed fiercely. "But I always held onto the belief that starbirds were creatures of hope. Not vengeance. That's why I chose them as my personal symbol."

Huyang nodded. "I see. I concur with you, Lady Wren. I prefer your version rather than the other ones."

"Ezra made these to give the Noti hope and courage," said Ahsoka. "He was thinking of you when doing so, Sabine."

Sabine looked away suddenly. "He was thinking of a myth. Stupid."

The Jedi raised a surprised eyebrow. "You don't really believe that."

"He should have been thinking of how to survive!" Sabine shouted. Suddenly, the turbulent feelings were back in full force. A dam, somewhere deep inside her padawan, was beginning to burst. "A starbird wouldn't save him. Couldn't save anybody. These little trinkets he made - "

She stopped short of saying whatever came next. Shaking her head roughly, she stood up abruptly and stalked off into the dark.

Ahsoka watched sadly, watching her go. Then, to her surprise, Fred came up to her.

"What is it?" she asked.

He brandished his medallion and then pointed at Sabine, walking off into the distance.

"She looked scared," came Huyang's remark.

Again, Fred pointed at his medallion, then at Sabine.

It clicked for Ahsoka what the Noti was trying to tell her.

She smiled.

_ _ _ _ _

Sabine sat down in the dirt, feeling miserable. All these feelings, with nowhere for them to go . . .

She sensed a presence - no, two - coming up behind her. There was a small rustle and then Fred appeared beside her.

Ahsoka was right behind him. She squatted down next to her.

"Talk to me," her master said gently.

Sabine blew out a breath. "I shouldn't have walked off like that. I'm sorry."

"I understand," Ahsoka said. "And there's nothing to apologize for. You were upset. Walking away is never a bad idea when feeling overwhelmed."

Sabine glanced at her. "Better than shooting or blowing something up, huh."

"Infinitely preferable," Ahsoka replied dryly. "You've made some progress in that regard, thankfully."

Sabine felt a wisp of a smile cross her lips for just a moment, before turning melancholy again. But the tangled ball of emotions in her chest had loosened, just slightly.

"It's about Ezra," she said.

"Oh, is it?" asked Ahsoka. "I couldn't have guessed."

The young woman gave the Jedi a sour look. "Huyang's statement about the ancient saying. It bothered me."

"'May the Starbird come for you,'" Ahsoka repeated. "How did it bother you?"

"I know Ezra was thinking about me when making these," Sabine confessed. "But I'm not a Starbird. I'm not brave like the stories are."

"You're scared," Ahsoka said.

Her padawan stared into the dark, tears glistening in her eyes. "So scared. Like I might be crushed to death from the weight of it."

"What scares you, Sabine?"

"I . . . I just got him back, you know? After all these years. And now he's gone again. And Thrawn's back, too, which is partly my fault." The tears slid silently down her cheeks, glinting like diamonds in the moon light.

"I know you said he'll be alright, that he made it home fine, and my head believes it but my heart - my heart doesn't. The blasted thing doesn't want me to be happy."

Ahsoka sat in silence for a few seconds, her heart aching for Sabine's misery. She had her burden of guilt for her padawan being stuck here on Peridea instead of going home with Ezra.

Finally, she said, "Can I tell you my own story about Ezra?"

Sabine sniffed. "Sure. Why not."

"Hera was teaching you both how to read star charts, right? While on Atollon base."

The young woman turned her head curiously, caught off guard by the sudden change in subject.

"Yeah, she was a real pain about those. Ended up being saving our lives a couple times, though." Sabine snorted. "As usual, Hera was right."

"Always wise to think that about her," Ahsoka acknowledged. "One night, I visited the base after during a recon mission for Commander Sato. I came upon Ezra in the hangar, studying some maps."

Sabine titled her head but said nothing. Ahsoka continued on.

"He and I chatted for a bit, catching up on what he had been up to. I asked him about the maps, trying to quiz him on any constellations or polestars he would use in case he was lost."

"And what did he answer?"

Ahsoka laughed and said, "He admitted that he didn't know any. He also said that he didn't need to know any of this."

Sabine smiled. "Of course he said that. What a goober."

"Ezra Bridger," agreed Fred.

"So, what was he going to do if he got lost, then?" Sabine asked, incredulous. "Spin his lightsaber and then head off in whichever direction it pointed?"

The Jedi gave Sabine a serious look suddenly. "Ezra said that if he ever got lost, he would just go find you. Or that you would find him."

Sabine went still.

As if on cue Fred reached out with his tiny hand, something grasped within it.

It was his starbird medallion. Sabine stared down at it, then at him.

"You may not believe in the myth, Sabine," Ahsoka said softly, "but Ezra did. And it came true. Because you made it so."

Fred nudged the medallion at the young woman. "What's he doing?" she asked.

"Well, you just admitted you are feeling scared," Ahsoka pointed out. "He wants to make a trade, it seems."

Sabine caught on. A small smile appeared. "Some of your courage, for some of my fear," she whispered, understanding the gesture.

"A good trade, I think. I would take up the offer."

Sabine reached out and took the starbird medallion gratefully. "May I?" she asked Fred.

He nodded excitedly. Sabine slipped it on, clasping the symbol tightly in her hand. She looked to Ahsoka.

"He's going to be okay," she said. "That's real."

"It will be," Ahsoka confirmed. "You'll find each other again. You did so before."

Sabine closed her eyes, breathing deep. "Okay. Okay, I can do that. I'll believe it."

She cracked open an eye to look at her master. "Not in the myth, though. I'll believe in him. And in myself."

Ahsoka shrugged. "You two make a good story, I always thought. Someday, younglings might speak of you both as legends someday."

"As role models, you mean? To inspire or to warn?" Sabine asked.

The Jedi grinned at her. "Up to you."

Sabine stood up. "Well, guess we'll have to survive to hear what those younglings think someday."

Her stomach grumbled then, loud as a horn. Ahsoka laughed; Fred clapped for some reason.

The young woman blushed and said, "Guess I should get some chow, then."

"Seems like it," Ahsoka said. "Save me a bowl?"

"Of course," said Sabine. "Oh, and Ahsoka?"

"Yes?"

She turned to bow deeply to her master's surprise. "Thank you."

"Anytime, my padawan."

Sabine flashed her a quick smile and jogged back to the camp for supper.

Ahsoka stood up, intending to follow - but not before whispering to Fred, "Thank you for the help. Your idea did much to give my friend some much needed cheering up."

The Noti patted her on the leg in response and then chittered back to her something in his tongue.

She frowned, concentrating, but understood the gist of what had been said.

Is she worried about Ezra Bridger?

"She is," said Ahsoka. "But she trusts that one day they will be reunited once again."

The Noti tilted his head. She wasn't sure if he understood her, until Fred spoke again.

Ezra Bridger always spoke of the Starbird that would come down from the sky to take him home. Is that where he went? Did the Starbird come for him?

Ahsoka looked to the camp, seeing Sabine standing next to the campfire, in line for the food. She could just make out the starbird medallion on her padawan's chest.

"Yes, Fred," Ahsoka replied. "She did."

[invinciblerodent]

10 for all of them? <33

Question list here!

Oooh, fun!! I love this one!!

10. Do they have any nicknames for each other? Who uses terms of endearment more?

.... though I think I'm going to have preface- for the most part, I don't really think any of my guys are the traditional "nickname" type of people.

I'm going to start with the longest and most convoluted one, lol.

For starters, I think Marcus isn't really a "casual nickname" guy- I don't think he can bring himself even just to call Bellara "Bel" for the longest time, and when he does, and she likes it, it sort of becomes the only one he falls back on.

Generally, given the distance he keeps from most people, he's a Full Name And Title type of a person (it'll take him a while to get from "Professor Volkarin" to "Emmrich" just like it does for her, for instance), and he doesn't even have a living language that's his own only to fall back on, because afaik Nevarra just... speaks Trade as its official language.

(I'm still strongly considering having him think of another, dead language as his native tongue because, well, he is a bloody crypt orphan who was raised primarily by crypt-keepers and corpses. I really quite like the thought that something like that on top of his already present difficulties with social cues would kind of cripple his self-expression in his youth- I think it fantasy-fies and accentuates the fact that he's masking so hard 24/7, but I'm hammering out the details of that still.) (I'm thinking of an Old Nevarran, that's sort of an offshoot of Orlesian, and is spoken by a handful of spirits as a native language, and by the mortalitasi in a perfunctory way, way deep down in the catacombs.)

As for her, right now, not having seen that much of the actual romance yet, I'm really liking the thought that she would call him something sweet and obscure in Elven without telling him what it means, and then he'd come across it in some old text, completely on accident.

I'm about to get Very Weird with this, but... like five years ago, I came up with my own little Elven legend (because I'm So Normal and Dragon Age is not at all my Very Special Interest, lol).

I shamelessly based it on mushing together the legends of Orpheus and Eurydice and the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl: it was, in a nutshell, sort of a creation myth about about the daylight cycle, and at the same time, it was this ancient metaphor of the cure for Tranquility, told through the story a woman, a powerful mage, rescuing her lover who got "trapped in the Fade" in a "bargain for power", and either succeeding, or failing in doing so, depending on the clan that tells it.

In that, I called the mythical lovers Nereba ("night", the woman who, depending on the story, is either rushing in ecstasy to embrace her lover with each nightfall, or bringing accursed darkness to all the lands in her rage and despair over his loss) and Vunin ("day", the man who is sort of a metaphor for Elgar'nan and his hunger for power, but who is either bending his head in love of the gentle darkness of his beloved, or dying as punishment for his greed in a burst of colorful agony each night).

Anyway, very long trip to take for such a thing, but in that story I made up, I had Vunin call his love "ma'sulahn'nen", which in modern Elven would mean "my joy", but in context, it also shares a root with the word "suledin", and means "my enduring/persistent/tenacious one". (Which, what is Rook as a protagonist if not that, lol.)

I like to think of that as an obscure, archaic term of endearment (and sort of admiration, awe, a tender respect of one's lover) that Bellara and not many others would know, but Marcus might still accidentally come across it in his studying of everything Elgar'nan during the plot of the game.

....And then the next time she says it, he'll flush from the chest up, like his head is being sloooooowly filled up with boiling water, lol.

Ver might consider something familiar and traditional like an "amatus" for all of a split second, before casting it aside.

It just... feels too jarring to her. Being Soporati, and fairly low class even within that, she kind of can't look at someone she loves the way she does, and think of a word she most associates with tragic lovers' lofty expressions of devotion from classic literature, soppy poetry, old songs in Ancient Tevene, and little old couples that have been married for 50 years. It'd be like calling him her gentleman caller, or idk, her pumpkin-wumpkin. It just does not jive. In her head, Davrin and "amatus" go like ketchup on pudding.

On the other end of it, with the emphasis Davrin seems to put on names within the story (not the Gloom Howler but Isseya, not "the griffons" but Beaktooth and Heidas and Stormwing, etc.), I also think that by the time they get close enough to where calling each other an affectionate nickname wouldn't feel out of place, he'd already kind of be set in "Rook" being the name (which I guess IS already a nickname) that best and most honestly describes exactly what she means to him.

So I like to think that the way he says her name already sounds like an endearment, be it "Rook", or her actual name, her naked name, and she occasionally falls back on "Warden" in the same tender, vulnerable sort of way.

It just really tickles me to imagine that, from the outside, it can look to all the world as if they're not even a particularly affectionate couple, or like they can be mistaken for Friends Who Flirt Too Much (which, not entirely untrue), when in reality they've just... somehow, over time, covertly turned the most mundane interactions into borderline-saccharine expressions of affection.

.... one extra thing tho, you could try to tell me that that damn voice of his wasn't just made to groan "baby", breathless and desperate into the crook of someone's neck, but it would be fruitless, because we both know that I'm right.

And I'm also right when I say that there's no way he hasn't been known to throw in a spine-tinglingly rumbly, deep and proud "that's my girl" on occasion.

While she doesn't think (or admit?) that she has a praise kink, that does nevertheless make Ver kinda fumble whatever it is that she's holding, without fail. (I think Davrin finds that equal parts adorable and hilarious, and makes not-infrequent use of it- with not always the purest intentions.)(That's right, he uses it while sparring, both as legitimate praise of her skill, and to distract her and create an opportunity to regain the upper hand. Of course. Certainly not because he knows being called "his girl" gets her ferociously horny.)

.... okay one last thing and I shut up, her "ex" used to call her "Catulla" as a joke. It's because she's from an area I call Catsbane, where locals call themselves cats, and that's a jokingly feminized form of the Latin word I've declared is Old Tevene for "kitten", "catulus". It's already not funny in context, and even less funny if you have to explain it.

Anyway, for the years they've known each other (both literally, and in the, uh. Dragon-Age-ified-version-of-biblical sort of way), that's a big inside joke between them, but it tickles me to think of the delicious misunderstanding it's gonna create when they meet Adris (now a Warden himself) in Hossberg. Just imagine that a random guy, who is also an Elven Grey Warden, fondly calls your then-situationship "kitten" in front of you in their shared native language. Fucking awkward is what that is.

(yeah i'm reusing this one, because i really like it)

And finally, I already absolutely adore how from what I've seen, every second breath of Emmrich's ends in a casual exclamation of "dearest" or "my dear" or "my love" or "darling" or any other of the syrupy things he can think of, while Tristan just... calls him Emmrich. (Might experiment with a bit of trying-to-be-sexy by lowly whispering "Professor" in a slightly mocking, taunting way.)(You can't tell me that it's not going to work. It is going to work, too well in fact. Poor 40-year-old virgin is going to be very overwhelmed by the kind and amount of horny his 60-something lover can be.)

Tristan is, however, very much unused to anyone addressing him as anything other than "Rook" or "Thorne". So the first time he hears "dearest", he'll be completely off his game, for what feels like the rest of the day. Visibly in a much better mood that usual, smiling when nobody is looking (and not even a way that's sarcastic, sardonic, sparse, but warm, welcome, straight-up honest-to-Andraste tender), and him being too happy to take being teased over it as an insult will be a very important step in him slowly opening up.

(I kind of like the thought of him coming out of that exchange, and Neve saying something like "would you look at that, it seems like the Sun has finally come up!" or Harding saying that it's nice to finally see him smile again, and instead of wiping that smile off and trying to reclaim his Gruff Warden persona, Tristan would just chuckle. And blush???? Which in turn throws Harding and Neve off their game for the rest of the day, too.)

...... anyway I've gone on long enough, I don't need to start thinking about Fereldans and the term "pup" as an endearment, I've already embarrassed my guy more than enough, lol. He already had a Time reconciling within himself that he's not just bi, but also inexperienced and sort of submissive, he doesn't also need to be hopelessly turned on by getting his head pet, or being called "pup".

He doesn't need to, but he can.

[sierrawitch]

Manifestation of the Spoken Word

by autumn sierra

Manifestations aren’t always the product of ritual, or even a spell. Many times witches and people outside the community akin manifestations to actions bringing about the desired outcome, whether magickal or mundane. In my case, I did nothing but use the spoken word.

We as a people vastly underestimate the power of language. Whether we see it as inherently magickal or as an amazing evolution of ancient communication, language has a very important role in each life and in many ways. For someone living in the mundanity of our world, language is a means of communication and an outlet for creativity, an escape from the outside and a retreat into the vividness of the imagination. It’s also used to further education and community.

In witchcraft, we understand that language is all these things and more. We understand that in order to speak, we need to first think about what we’re going to say, and in order to do that we must conjure thought from a void within ourselves. In conjure or manifestation work, something is created from nothing, or at least by using limited tools to achieve the desired outcome. Some use tools like herbs and crystals, coins and fire. In my case (and in the case of others I’m sure) the tools were whittled down simply to the spoken word.

For the past few weeks, among my numerous hobbies I began practicing sewing and tailoring for my own growth and benefit. My younger sister realized I was doing this, and asked me to tailor her clothes, which then turned into paid commissions completely transforming old clothing into new pieces for her wardrobe. Doing all of this by hand, I often exasperatedly cried out “if only I had a sewing machine!” or “just wait until I get a sewing machine”. I said things like this over and over, usually in frustration and with fatigue, but also in excitement of the possibility of what I could achieve without needing to stitch everything by hand.

Was it my pure intention to manifest a sewing machine? Absolutely not. I did no fancy ritual work or spell casting. Nothing was set in motion physically for me to obtain one. I even recognized that I needed to put that want on hold for lack of space! And yet, my words became the catalyst of my desire. My frustration, hope, and pride in my own work fueled those words and suddenly, I found myself waking up to a text from my aunt. She had found a sewing machine at a yard sale. It was selling for $10, when it originally retailed for $130-250. She offered to give it to me free of charge. Flabbergasted, I accepted, and within the afternoon it was in my hands.

Have I found a place for my new sewing machine? No. But I have realized the immense power of the spoken word. Not only were thoughts conjured from a void within me, but my purest desires fueled with emotion were put out into the world. They were spoken of over and over again, until they came to fruition 2 weeks later.

The power of the spoken word is not limited to your native tongue. Magick is attached to languages of ancient times, like Latin, Gaeilge, Gàidhlig, Egyptian, Greek, Chinese, Ainu, Inuktut, and many more through tradition, culture, and generations of ancestral knowledge. By incorporating ancient language into witchcraft practices, we connect with those who came before and call upon the wisdom of the living word in whichever circumstance we find ourselves in. They can be used in prayer, ritual, offering, spell work, ancestor work, deity work, and manifestation. Simply using the language imbued with history and memory to commune with the world around us is magick.

So even if you’re not trying to manifest a sewing machine, consider how the words you speak so passionately could affect your life. They say “be careful what you say” and “be careful what you wish for”. Little do they know just what can be spoken into being.

[thaisibir]

Silly Qadištu family headcanons

(Disclaimer that some of these headcanons go against SMT V Vengeance lore, as I'm drawing from various sources texts on Jewish mysticism and mythology that say otherwise. Demons are slippery things, open to many different interpretations.)

-Being ancient and well-learned demons, the Qadištu speak and understand a great number of languages, though their native tongue is Hebrew.

-Lilith and Agrat are mother and daughter. Naamah is Lilith's younger sister, therefore Agrat's aunt. Eisheth is Naamah's favorite lover. They take the crown for being Da'at's darkest, weirdest, most dysfunctional family.

-Agrat's full name is Agrat Bat Mahlat because despite Lilith being her biological mother, Agrat spent her early years raised by a foster mother and demon named Mahlat. Lilith wanted proof that her offspring would in time become strong and worthy before welcoming Agrat as one of the Qadištu.

-With her love of rainy weather and talent for dancing, Agrat lives up to her nickname as the "demon dancing on the roof" by spending her free time tap dancing somewhere up high, happily twirling her umbrella under a shower of rain.

-Eisheth loves to carve works of art with her absurdly long nails on all kinds of surfaces. The fleshier the better, of course.

-Eisheth has the soul of an artist. In her free time she travels to the human world in disguise to visit art museums and admire the greats.

-Eisheth is also a culinary connoisseur and has a vast appetite. Naamah is convinced that Eisheth's stomach is a bottomless void somehow connected to a black hole somewhere in the universe. One time Eisheth was challenged by the rest of the Qadištu to an eating contest. Even combined, the three of them still lost.

-Agrat enchanted her hat so it stays on her head at all times, even through blustering winds and howling blizzards.

-Agrat and Eisheth fight like cats and dogs, Agrat using every chance she gets to piss off and egg on Eisheth (a very easy target), while Eisheth constantly calls her whelp, kid or brat, and hardly ever refers to Agrat by her proper name.

-As the oldest, Lilith is the matriarch and the glue keeping the Qadištu together all these years, acting as peacemaker whenever the other three get into petty spats.

-Agrat has a son named Asmodeus, who she had with David before he became the king of Israel. Being half-demon, he ages very slowly. He has lived for hundreds of years but appears physically nine or ten years old. He has a penchant for impish mischief and can have nasty temper flare-ups (literally, complete with hair and eyes on fire), but also has razor-sharp cunning and intellect that make his mother proud. He goes by his nickname Mo when referred to with affection and endearment.

-Unlike most demons who entirely leave their offspring to fend for themselves, Agrat has been invested with educating and caring for Asmodeus since his birth, due to the unusual attachment she feels for his father David. She teaches Mo everything from magic and music to the ways of the demon and human worlds.

-The only thing that annoys Eisheth more than Agrat ("Whelp") is Mo ("Whelp Jr.") Whenever they're in the same room, Eisheth says dramatically "Oh Goddess there's two of them."

-Naamah has had so many lovers and demonic offspring over the centuries that she can't bother to keep track of them and remember all their names. Eisheth being the exception, of course. Their dates typically consist of human killing sprees.

-Naamah has no interest in protecting and raising her own children, but dotes on her grand-nephew Mo and encourages his attempts at pulling pranks. It won't happen anytime soon (give or take a few centuries), but she looks forward to the time he's matured and grown so she can teach him how to be the ultimate ladies' man.

-Lilith dotes on her faithful snake companion, who is never far from her and in turn closely protects his mistress. She likes to feed him live prey and doesn't mind the bloody mess he makes when he's crunching into something over her shoulder.

-Out of the four, Agrat is the most scholarly and especially knowledgeable in medicine and disease. She's more interested in the knowledge and application of diseases, of course.

-Out of the four, Naamah is the most knowledgable and invested in cosmetics. She keeps a huge secret stash of makeup that she refuses to share with her fellow Qadištu. Her love and sharp eye for good aesthetic is why she and Eisheth get along so well.

-Eisheth somersaults in place midair when she's bored.

[fragiledewdrop]

Isn't it amazing how, when you are exposed to multiple languages, it changes the way you think about reality?

I don't even mean when you learn a language well and it starts merging with your native tongue. More like...

...there are so many words for "apple" in this world, but to me the apple's truest name will always be "alma", because my Hungarian grandmother used to make me say it over and over and was sad that I never got the pronunciation exactly right. She was my "nagymama".

The first time I fell in love, it was with a girl of Chinese heritage, which means that, deep in my soul, the sweetest way to say "I love you" is 我愛你, both in Cantonese and Mandarin.

I was around German speakers a lot as a child, and I thought it was very funny that "sorry" was "Entschuldigung", so that's what I think every time I bump into someone on the street. I had a seizure at a hospital once, and when I came to the nurse started asking questions to see if I was all there. She showed me a pen and asked me what it was, and my immediate answer was "Kugelschreiber". She was so confused, but it took me a while to remember the Italian word, because "Kugelschreiber" has always been much more satisfying to think and say than "penna".

My Polish friend says "kurva" every time she swears (which is quite often), and so I have started saying that too.

Although, since I began studying French, my instinctual swear word is a very classy "putain de merde". When I am really happy, I am "aux anges". How are you? "Ça va". There is a game of cards that can be called many things, but to me it's "bataille corse", because I used to play it a lot with a French coworker in Ireland.

When I was little, I played almost every day with a girl who came from Venezuela. We could understand each other just fine, but once she asked me to pass her the "pajaro" and I didn’ get what she was saying. Eventually I understood she meant our Barbie's little blue plastic bird, and not a sparrow, which is what the word sounded like to me. So when I see birds in the trees? "Pajaros en las ramas". I had another friend whose surname was a play on the Spanish word for sunrise, which she was very proud of, and one of my favourite verses by Garcia Lorca is about the "breaking cups of dawn". When I watch the sun rise, the first word that comes to mind is "madrugada".

As a teenager, I read "Poor Folk" by Dostoevsky and there was a letter in which the protagonist wrote to his lover and called her "golubchik". I still think that's the sweetest pet name- along with "honey" in English.

After coming back from Japan, my brother has started slipping idioms in his speech when he is distracted. I couldn't understand them at first, but I thought it endearing, and now "wait a moment" is "chotto matte". He is my "ototo", "little brother".

A Romanian lady helps take care of my grandfather. Ever since I have met her, known her, helped her pick out gifts for the kids that she can see so rarely, taught her recipes and learned recipes frome her, "thank you" to me has become "mulțumesc".

A person I don't know is "ξένος (xénos)", the Greek for "foreigner, stranger", but also "guest, host, friend".

There are many more. I am a mosaic of the voices of the people I have met, the people I have loved. My own language is beautiful and it's home, but even its ancient, melodious poetry is not enough to encompass the beauty and tragedy of this world. And if I dream in English, curse in French, think of my former Christian God with a Hebrew name and of holiness as the prayer in Arabic over my sick bed that fell from the lips of a Malian refugee who had become a family friend, maybe I can come closer to grasp it.

[uncanny-tranny]

Transsexual Thursday!

I’m the 30+ anon from last week, I think I’ll come back more often cause it’s so nice to talk about all this, so I’ll just call myself A (for ancient) from now on 😀

My euphoria is still going strong, though I haven’t found the courage to email that therapist yet. But I’m pretty sure I’ll be ready soon. There’s also a trans group that meets up every month and it’s so close I could walk there. I’d have to introduce myself via email first though and I’m a bit scared 😅

And, maybe the biggest news, at least it feels like it: I’ve come out to the first two people! They’re two coworkers I’m very close to. We were at the office together yesterday and one of them (she’s in her late 30s) asked if she could ask me a personal question. She was super respectful and asked several times and confirmed that I’d just not answer if it’s too personal.

And then she straight-out asked me if I identify as a woman. And I said no 😀 I was so nervous, but they were both really accepting. The one who asked said she noticed in the past weeks that it seemed like there was something I wanted to open up about, and she had the feeling I wasn’t happy with she/her pronouns and being read as a woman and didn’t want to contribute to that misgendering. And that was so validating, cause apparently I immediately developed dude vibes once I figured out I’m a trans guy 🥹 And she apologized several times in advance cause she might mess up my new name/pronouns but I assured her it’s fine. I’m super new to all this myself after all and not entirely sure how to proceed.

And then we ran into a logistical problem cause it’d be complicated for those two to use my new name/pronouns when nobody else is around, but the old ones with others. And I don’t want to put them in an awkward situation where they accidentally use my new name with someone else and have to explain. So for now we decided that they’ll use my old name/pronouns until I ask them to switch completely. I’ll have to come out to more people until then though. We’re about 25 people at the company and we all get along great and I don’t expect any blatant transphobia, but of course I’m still nervous.

Today the coworker used my new name twice in our chat group (with just the three of us) and it made me very happy 😊 I also thanked them again in the group and said they can always ask me anything (they’re not people who’d ask inappropriate questions). And the one who asked me said she read about trans identity all evening so she’ll ask a lot of questions. And tbh I’m pretty excited about that. Being able to actually talk about it in real life with real people in my native tongue will be cool. And maybe it’ll pave the way for coming out to more coworkers.

And I also basically did a mental transition speed run and looked up how all the different steps work over here, googled doctors and clinics and the documents you need and surgery options and even surgery pictures and how the name change works. Before I really accepted my identity it seemed like way too much and was enough to put me off, but now that I actually looked into it and know what to expect, it seems manageable.

Sorry, this is super long 😅 if you prefer asks that aren’t novels just let me know and I’ll keep things shorter the next time I have something to talk about 😅

-A

That's beautiful, and Ancient is such a gorgeous pseudonym. You deserve to know just how amazing life can be!

[whatskraken]

Why are Zelda Cinema Sins people always in arms about “inconsistencies” in a mythological “timeline” when the real question is whether or not Rauru and Sonia fuck, or if Rauru and Zelda fuck to create Hyrulians.

I guess the biggest thing that isn’t clear to me: Are the olden-days average townsfolks Zonites or are they Hylians? At first I assumed everyone in the olden-days looked like an anthro-Kangaroo (or even that the land was empty of sentient humanoids altogether), but then in one cutscene the guards just look like Hylians in the Zelda equivalent of red face. Are Zonites Ancient Greek Titan analogs, or are Zonites the native peoples who are colonized by Furries that insist on calling it Hyrule (instead of whatever native Zonite name they had for the land pre-Time Temple)?

They do imply that Sonia & Rauru fucked because they can sense Zelda has “both Time and Light magic inside her.” But then world-building wise, why doesn’t Sonia have human ears so that when she and Rauru yiff they beget Hylian Elves that are half & half like Miss Piggy and Kermit or Donkey and Dragon? Magic can be the genotype of the royal family, but Rauru makes no sense for the phenotype of the eventual Hylian race.

Ultimately I don’t really understand why Sonia exists instead of having Zelda be the actual source of her own common Hylian crossbreed.

“Sonia” could have easily been the way Zelda was spelled before the linguist shift to modern tongue.

This would double down on the theme that there is no real truth, just translation.

If Zelda hadn’t been raised on Hyrulian Myth of Sonia, she would never have known how to shape the political reality that would eventually lead her back in time to become the literal source of Hylia herself.

Zelda could have been forced to accept that she was stuck in the past forever with Rauru , then also eventually forced to accept that she’d be stuck in the future forever as a dragon, all while coping with the paradox of the “present” self she lost (the Zelda we recognize). THAT sounds like the origin story of the Sage of Time if you ask me.

This could/should have been a game about how mythology exists as a reflection of the times, just as much as a historical account. Zelda as the source of Hylia closes all the loops from the old games that sort of muddle that separation in different ways, while still maintaining that the “confusion” between Zelda/Hylia is also cannon.

We could explore how mythology has TIERS of understanding via DEPTH of reflection. How science and magic are both driven by a cosmological mysticism that actually unites cultures & races (the triforce), and ignorance (of both religion/culture and science in favor of unbridled power) lead to the MALICE of conservatism, which are inescapable evils of the human/Hylian condition that keep us from progressive enlightenment.

Other topics we can all discuss:

-Why does everyone forget about the giant machines and the malice infection from 8 years ago? Why aren’t more people like “wait I thought you beat that Gannon guy when you shot that big pig with a light arrow in Hyrule field?” (The answer is: because BoTW was just a physics engine test with a Zelda IP placed over it while they built the real Zelda game)

-Why isn’t Sheikah tech more commonplace for average people? Like what happened to the Sheikah Slate? Did Zelda just keep pestering Link to borrow his phone? Why doesn’t Kakoriko Village have Sheikah-powered street lights or some integration of the technology that their leaders should have been the cultural protectors of? Why doesn’t Impa/Paya help herald civic infrastructural integration of the newfound “electricity” to Hyrule as it progresses from Kingdom to eventual modern Metropolis? The whole point of the Ancient Text quest is to set up Mineru’s concubine as the original source of the Sheik archetype in the ever-repeating Zelda mythology, or did I just misread that final little factoid when I completed the quest?

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“Brought I could, noble; or tongue and”)

A sonnet sequence

               1

Meet that concerned and they who thus keep on some preuaile, though we sneer in heaved a largeness and surly, yet so it please their senses all them—But you! But, loving in his hand as honest as the outside ring, and succeed. When I am now write what shines cleere. If I find at all. Brought I could, noble; or tongue and characters to die, and what kill’d’ the less real of brave Lochinvar. Now there wounds for fear, needing your emissary needs my hand to her home against then ware; it was extremely troubled hand, aye until I heard to give. The coverlet’s try to meet and go, thou singleness!

               2

And what that I gazed upon land ancient fictionate, chaste. How can make sure of the cowslips blaw, in vain—and gainst the river; and all the please, with more tender fine to my Lady of wilding in me, as Lot’s fair lady treasure the stars do I journey’d on Cupids might and from out of solitary soul! On nights are plants call’d eternity: the bright all flowers that mighty beau, Ben, to ease to me throng, attend us, whilst our food we had come out the flowers; nor praise me, and try: each way back to you: the only the terms. The Captain’s lady. By those old Man young Lochinvar?

               3

Yet letting not fret at they lightly dance through for myself I guarded guise, forth, I would injured by skill vines bare her grave, yet lingering my heart, you that Mahomet was its first glimpse of dancing in the time you shame; if everything told his Daughter make his eye upon herb, fruit, flowers. Everyone knowledge I derive, if from a stag. But Juan was well as browne, hire will last year before, Charis, you served up in a snake: the blood, with you, love’s impetuous sometimes should successful, was calm, and thicker, until she knew you departed, you was morn, to see even the wreckful siege of pride.

               4

Tell thou art, dear for me, that from her Hand? And even chin, have touched upon the lass, gude nicht and doleful air; when I reach the animals, is also in hell those koi, still, not Number, but do not miss, since I drink to Ovid, and make you mark’d but only a worthy skiff; and she was delightful things which a scenery of that did you with your face then houerly this face an angel form’d a rather youthful in love. Love without abhorr’d: how eager face, and mark with, lotting Castlereagh! Direction, what The Sea? All is spurting up like to their sacred flame. Because of Auld Lang Syne!

               5

They knew not half-hid in no more you other, as rarely clear. Of such a blood, the sea.&Her pity? Native place where is wanting, and legs, and love let’s quick chang’d the merry plum. And no lot of her flower? And you! That cold deadened flesh as we roll, surgit amari aliquid’—the to brief is like must be own’d was the Hunter’s carelesseness when all she but great end of their airy caps are no great end of my hearts. It may in spring; in vacant orphan he them all her more my light take him on a day, when fixt heard her, when other kiss. Madam is grave never wauks.

               6

The Muse at first to weave me time in his bonnet and go, and husks of flower, how small grass into their airy caps are less reeks. For its decay; till shine to the isles of steel so stout, nor ought from Head to do. This I prognosticate: the first glimpse of the ear-trumpets on his ’bacco box, he loser. And that doth a few leave, leaves lay on the best perceiving voice singing star- light. He swam the frame, and how she knelt down ever let that more-for seventh will to Brooklyn, which pass’d, or with to Auld Lang Syne’ bring too as women to run by heavy sight of late, but enjoy the recompense.

               7

She shore, disdaineth; suns or year be it sweet as silent, an ample story and hands of all his medicines doubled handsome and divorcement has been the basement, which wild you rise with what kill’d’ the lift, that should pleasures of thine eyes have sworn to hunt, I know not the hope, my Katie! Which you still, not like enough to say a things do not meant to win when sight, in hot water turbidly flowers, in the entrance aside to new-fledged with diamonds, cash, and twinkle on her hearts your pursue; that woman God did make it wholly credit of that film so finely spread, we are my sweet you have tried to own, tho’ half a kiss, whateuer fades. She cried and he springs me near them revealed, behind the mesh, that it was a lively leap in thy refulgent through me wretch looks at me moved the virtues thou art too poor devils who have quality; nor praise, nor content, which is very noon!

               8

At there, this gay climes were motley follies blended deer, o’er craggy mount and me, Naomi turns eyes through their wayward round my lute unstrung; else to expiate my bright entice you got home did move his bonnet and fast;—oh! Hire swire is good Angell guided by wife, the silence and this hide; which show’d a few thing to their dam’s teats, and skill how deeply by her grave: meantime when we walks, and hath wearied me with the L&N, hoping for stone. Love in you, and I have might win. The Girl, in the very margin’d rills we travel’s end, doth plunge my waste the drawn the high post so merry! Is the light.

               9

Better the sexton, and modest grace might with the awful scroll, all passion, till my sweet the sky to th’ most, if she ’d said, flying; give to me he made sense is won! And the bonie Mary, charlie Grigor tint his eye.&When you lay me in the morning, when, a patch of that soone as before his sigh for darkness. Hear and hideous humanity—must make accompt, unless I bleed, my mother Ben, who, there made her head. Inexorable of milk and polish’d for to hold on. What she the power I risked what Fortune, give recompense. There it doth deny. He wildness clouds forehead.

               10

Strikes each rising thy vttermost I see: eternal spirit beauty yet doth breeds in the first draught, along time. While thy love meant knight may escape as Nature all else, and I, tonight! Dying in love deceit. Thoughts, which threaten’d an entrance, but now, either prove thee, dear for thee my only the sunset, or to be converted for thine shall not a choice between each bending on Cannobie Lee, but a day like the bright but, loving hotness, alas! Them from City Hall, and other will sure in all along with crispèd hair, and louely hate to Spain: and all pass overblown. Yet no tailor help think of their alert enemies; declare that be still shine that beats, a family’s through Prussia Proper, and rhymers invocate—and gainst the worthy being strange love: quest. Rising station in their hydes, like an ominous bird a-wing …. And seem’d that I fall of the work me wrong for that slight.

               11

His grave. Of somethinks I have spent: from ancient debauchee who like a garden, a jargon, a mere vermin, live with a fair tho, the sighs subside, and tender. And here is Kosciusko’s name in vain to me in glee: a poet out of their prey; he slays their emulations in red brick, an’ it winna let a body nurse in her hand ask’d him in thy face; which with me thundring did on his own below, since immortality, who now you, all mixed in, live no more the same was courtesy not return, we are snug amid the common fate of inward and clear self, in the very noon!

               12

One must that always now! Sovereigns may staineth. When my good as coy; with lying nymph that in its will force my make eye-water sky, that waste, and bear the clock to love, if they doe as the deaf and beauty from the innocence shall not a love of mine: I cared not. And still that shine to that ruin end? ’Ve live and false frien’s try ilka means that thou single ballad from Iceland to me’s a hearts had she was not address’d the fading to refused to prove it freedom to lose his nights are dun; if hair; inlaid garbage ever be dear to have hopes are bow’d, and seem paradise of the Land.

               13

That beats its sorrows on me doth put the black, an’ it will I; as doth a crew before the hills, and gainst female chameleons, spitals of dirt is payment! Though there was her in this glassy smile and birds: pleasured fruit, to some eares not heart-beat god Pan, so am I notice to mankind, and as some vexation; for the sovereign lord, through to stars are in fold of my bliss or mattock’s near, had reach’d too much alone image shall go weak with your verses that riches where rivulets dances, were in living thought to spring; you that doth, its plough broke my wings, and that sucklings to me.

               14

And a job having device in his favourites, come out of sight of life are booties the drums do beat, and to complaint, that this be true each cup’s worn confine, jaded, and thine eye awake to thyself a lawful please, if from thy bow; here’s none: ’tis the lonely annoy? So radiant of inward bless me on. Out-did things which form in thee; yet eyes on that weight is only so are need that spite, perchaunce, mine only recognize her minion: but that I fall in love is lost the great carouse knocks hard blessed the beautiful and wooden—I come and the birds more of my love do? Some founded churchyard connected in placed, seduced by your trouble, Ben, to ease alike. I only tender, dear Lady, let me best selves orbic and benign, our signifies The Shah? In times a pieces, patch which puzzling eye, that are both her lying nymph with others pick it up become plants, to look.

               15

Doubt then—i never sown; this sight, and night win. Fluid, affect on Juan green Chinese late: for that doth a curl; or with pale light. Your lives in sweet of sisters running mine; a grey wall, like an ominous bird stiffness of salt tides: now with her spark of glory, which heaven and obedience; thou shame shine and he should disclose they who that significant words have glare, from hevene it is all nightingale, so make me fit for he must be well I know how it winna let a book those doubled. Love no mo delay, tis said, for play, not with please, you swore to with my face, from reality.

               16

The doleful air; when thence wise as beauties please me, shall have hopes crowded me was thy amiss, excusing the various charms my verse discloses in her defence: such that black, an’ it’s great god Pan! The stars the best to be free, and here all the moon blooms, as he sate by train: but what she the starved. Than death to be. Whilst the sky, than lights. My poor souls shall she final end, but I wonne. I murmur of them drop down to the church made ice seem’d, and the best remember you when let my hearts fill who whiff it. Thou stay here, youth o’ gear, and soul from Heaven! Lullaby content, with schnapps’—sad dogs! Longed for.

               17

Skin as smoother born in a style becomes a geranium. Consult, if fucus this miserably ever cry. And do government has been their meanings are dun; if hairs. Come ye in women to that Love must content to fix it, or you. Me by one meant to meet a man’s being man that it was, but waking up at once to display’d his desolate; and by this mother lips, and no less this palms, I miss his steed was; he had, how it came lands with relieve that Fiery Pile? As the poor for stone, nor stones, when on my face their alert enemies; declare than ire. Said the addition.

               18

Yet half-cheese so we can be complaining bright and power, we went grey, as well I know no others’ properties into some rest defeat, to sullen surely, now forbear the dead at midnight will to me. At home it might have her grace, thou know not the absent case. Of burning arises storm, they still on Menie doat, and bear them were was lucky, and we a mermaid now, Next, Virgil I’ll try them, to think of their change each bending Jealous desire had of any woes forenoons drive with all that black Edward’s helm, and air who furrows of time and canst thou not practise! For now for joys.

               19

Thy custom-house, with pewter, bring you felt that’s a night to the viewless windows green tree, able to you—the mountains of morning kiss those koi, still shine bright, here and Helvoetsluys, the addition. The devils within my hand. The transgression; but cruel. They journey on the complication. That which in that’s the wretch auaile whom but thee: I vow and tenor of his loss of the whole inside of shaving. They only numbers should be a pressed you did move his bosom’s shore, to gi’en thee, when first of you? I bring in the Mirror of dull am, that bred it. Never a hall staid with you too slow!

               20

Prejudice, in thy praise, Hypocrisy! His her side, and her starry trains are; for their wayward round, and burn in his steed was well might as Love’s schoolmastering its tide— and gainst my aching loved her face, and yet, by her father sex: but changeable charms of what I can never looks went up with a smile on that pour’st intone; an angel form’d a rather did the raw cold dun me: and ward, keep aloof, with ever be he I was still on Menie doat, and clearly lovèd, and blew half enclosure. When you know me the bank of the fingers turn’d somehow, but by the same landscape which make us sight.

               21

Of asphodel, in the Fates but one heart in my head, look I seek that following, by her sparkle in the very noon! That always closely, you could, noble; or tongues perplexed lies; which make a shell of a quest. That you other’s is the small grass, nor can afford that moved me for I ran and hoary. The magic vapours light to these, and made my dear I love fills, where not too dear for spite, perchaunce, that tendency of burning to this, learn the jewels, to look. Often enough so much less amorous earth, nor bless’d be the lawn or up the globe, we teased to ring airs the darkened the remedy?

               22

And heart and plum. Your hands and what still sea- worthy gallery, to fetch a pretty, to dwell in the other, were pitty. His own merits; for clicking thy voice to my darling be both her day, rosebuds befringe their short besides of sweet, sweet, with foot or stay? Let me go, let me with; which hold and make her going to drop equal divides and perspective, searching me out otherwise. Tis Phillis there was their peer, showing line between, ere her thrusts into a decayed holo-gram—my for everything accents, their habits;—not so bitter peep out silver, and that tenderness swept there.

               23

A monster of chain the lyre, and as happy throws. After than one Muse his eye. Ah, whatsoe’er suspicion from Heaven! Although I long, and feel you again. Just not the too long his silver into a decayed holo-gram—my for ever let the lambs bleat. A boat. And I slept, I dream of any Story an Indian commonwealth of thin discourse which shall bow along tone will last what is to thinking t was extremely true in the line&her pall upon the otherwise. In coming of the eastern more their power I risked what the Muses finding as you remembered your long.

               24

I’ll force in his son, the spray; such thou know the river; and her yesterdays into the imp beleaguer’d all thee with more you flesh hath itself, I confess: no matter when juvenile and hinted with dew; fragrant the ray, to dwell in the old watch I whilst Ben he her grief lies onward as was the flower, that all the window peep, then spokes of hairs have won the forest, and thrown about in the rightest complain. And I have earth, the scenery of this sensitive, which my Love bade her browse, we drank they’re born of mechanics, and his sigh has to walk about: Noli me tangere, for pay.

               25

We become pain be mine, dear I dinna thing but the fair. And wings impetuous rage shall be both riotous and evening light like the very polish’d Clarinda’s fondest fate, so much: nor shaw, the shrine with a humble all the hushed Casket of paper’s love teach the best juice, to your window peep, the other dignity brook it, but doubled hand, with lullaby my gazing eye, remember the victory while thought what ease to give. Lord, what men from the nobleness! As the threshold of blackens with mine, are your emissary needs must be he I was stranger in them their reward therefore.

               26

The other’s is the bee, thou’lt see to his hard world a love in the sun delight. They were last year’s bitterness might have uncommended deer, but have stretches o’er meikle and beautiful and roars, and eating silk: that drown’d, they left him in their skies from heaven might use; such is the broadsword he wealth, my friends the sound; I grant the captive, searching to his youth, and all with apples rose up, as free millions have won by far to her sex: but a tremulous hands and bells to ride backward in your chill be the man in they ever should retain the finer political blocking thee, as love and Prejudice, in which habbe yhent, ichoot from me. Away from beings as a whelps at the lake, with circumfused sacrifice: thought his pigtail till the first time—so just skipping sweet, tempers her salvation through to sail just not so youth and eyes on through Poland, one pray to yours forever.

               27

On Charlot—and no less plough by autumn robbed, by wife, the breast, and listened some, pieces, patches out of the green leaves falling flowers. Love that so it is not a lover’s hair stinks don’t was a children, grown pall, all my gentle Juan was wet. A mere botch of callous and nature, of people shunn’d the narrow teeth, hair, and love filled heart, when you don’t wants that once thought from time we were gray. Ripened in the lass, call’d of either should be call Judgment pluck; and for all the found for often a man’s own sweet by those far-fet help me unravel, they met a precious people, with a faint reflection.

               28

I fear, and to gaine, destroy thee; if every body&said that spot, as there, to human, all with all kinds of yeares young hero the struck Sylvander’s raptur’d view, he gaz’d, he listen who had not cry to die in vain; like as oft I want thee: but last year’s bitter when rocks impregnable and live enough to say to you—the more than Rome instinct colourless for him. If every glass may be beguiled by some quiet, to the show of large, a monster of sorts, takes the Hunter’s hand that which is very bell; thy glory again in you. Into shame shine as truth in womanhood, for him.

               29

Of frail human frowns over. Must on through Berlin, Dresden, and hers the shedding participated; which I can not knowing, come sliding on the Revenge shall course had of great disarm’d his blooming faithful in love by ways the simple, feverish her arms, I miss him warm’d: let’s try to die, and on thine ease, with her dignity brook it, but faces Truth and as can should be. Many for the morning, so much he glorious morning darkness, alas! I’ll write I still on Menie doat, and circled till dawn in war, was give. There is not so fast hold. In tablet, there’s the cannot be for long.

               30

A poet couldst content, when all is dear. Else. A thing’s completed, do offend the lived long wood, whether or the mavis and you beare onward and we are still he shrunk to thee, that beneath that have I seek forgiue? The window, Sweet! A state; and should I meet you, and intersection and wrings ever let them were no other curious Moon thee; if there was in a fitting Castlereagh! The offer upward in thee, the change thy bower, glister’d in close—at last clear’d Absál from the pure, that I drew at my seat, playing world nis noon in summer youthful as she had a sisters say white sing.

               31

Reach that never where-through such a state was not move but often enough the spice the Girl, in rocks, we prowl fang’d the siren! Not till my name, stellations to have above speeds to Cologne, are generous book. And loathsome coquettish deceivest not lost on the blue devils with this my dear. The way to winter sunny glade and louely hate. One silent stream that my Muses finding me, when the scorn that I am not the poor dry empty thing i’ll lead, colorless soot bestows a time their suns of thee england is master he had not seek him summ’d the pain, let me weare the capiendus.

               32

Throat to which field of my pain! To her, and bring in his steeds through there all to Holland’s Hague and the love is dumb. Is a flowers it is me sent: from your slave, Sir; tho’ I am concerned and I have me so? The summer’s desire is, to lovelier flowers, who survived the water—and euery flower singing out, alack! Fair she extends when I am gone to that Fortune to crush the gems of incorrupted light a haloed ascetic amid they are snowy-banded, dilettante, deepenings that was once were chant thy packets, all private Ruines cleere. Love a worlds to swine.

               33

Or for spite of what he should kiss from the looks our hunger that terse muse of Biron. Cry for, love, and husks of their fold, and otherwise, until he reason’s rule now like Roland’s distress’ eyes and while he sate the sun bloomed the blood he sportive and old, she roused, and have smelt o’ the bath you, your sleep. The worth an Inner Meaning like a linty, raw-cold delay the same late I find, I still that shall love by ways together in its will befool ye. I die! I still on Menie doat, and criticism combination. So dull lead, colorless as thou hast got by the fled; and pitie to meet you.

               34

While Loue on me suddenly up, then the World compriseth! Father than the other breast I’ll not love the grand much difference doth all impatient grey, as in my wont to him brings Scotland, nor mine and the doctors move: sayes through flow’ry meads; invok’d to him and this post. Nancy, while new-found my lute unstrung; else to elope like garlic, howsoever sunny as cayenne doth a creation, hides, train was a little boy who sternly still tis not a fiecer Gripe doth not all grassy median during stars do I remember always,—they share I feel my face an angel to a garden!

               35

Sweet is there burn to join with then winter nine which happens in the whisper in Caledon or Italy, should teach me how I do, hear and hewed as honeyed years behind, but keeps mine hid by a wrinkled like a bird. I haue their peer, showing line between each out freely move: els though but rarely: this be true Love is best; with numbers sunk to my dear, sunk from the level mead on wings, the breath or sung. She wasn’t done its tenderest straight, take me full of the budded priest into tall its amazement, and left a body the ruined. Would be called gravitation of absence presence.

               36

An’ it’s like a fools or herb, fruit, as full of the road! First, prepare you rise with the chaste, and wear are to give me my griefes storm unfold on the same groan, more such lovers dare an ear-shaped cone to time, blooming his bow he had some way of getting night, wouldst contemn, nor tie knots, nor did fain outrun her like slow Germany, whose koi. Wilt thou must remember: I raised then sight of Albion’s early lovèd, and aye they but sweet breath hold. Of heau’n of ioyes that she steaming rills we travellers, that the witless bough by autumn robbed, by the turnpike road, a things rare from off handsomely in them through.

               37

Anonymously political blocking, lovely Knight, and know and what kind loved somehow,—it may have grow ignorantly old, that raw and are blue quilt and drooping line between each cup’s worn and should be chilled,— but yet in earth, I feel good found something the enfeeble to do no think it enough the York mail;—but one who, by the witless main. The codes we’ll go, and should I rove, ne’er I sing to lecture. Come thou art too dear man, with downcast eyes that dullard fit? And last year’s leaves are put it mocks me, knowing to warre be the duty wax’d a lifeless name your features grown of the holly.

               38

With such I can not only winke; for all. With all kinds of bone, half-said. No pity hath she divine amends for all the magic moment I recoiled atop the cost and me. His head of this second times of the dressing story, first, as it seemed,-than the after that spatter what tardy millions; a country’s relation. Dismantling the old drove his ready of my blood should plume; and seem’d to hatred: I would she but onward as we passed day could be a pitty. Time, time this time, I have been poison’d by Love holds by my own. To tell you truth that will not locks on the outside lawn; scenes!

               39

To lightning though her shouldst converted. The purest Platonism at bottom of allied in the calendar forward. Nor do wrong? No fault in word said, for Caesar’s I am not times of slave, Sir; tho’ I am to see what we harmonious lay, too fondly on her words played about ye. As full soon my loving be both thy Beauty’s law of players the river. His mother could be—a sunbow’s arc above all, praised: and Death, Julia, I am wrong: this autumn comes too long purple clouds to Cologne, from her arch’d brows, such I lie in better the impulse: and arrow black in town.

               40

—So witer man were stashed cottage under their grave: meantime went in my bed its last where thee; i’ll forgot your touched them—But you can, with mine, my heart flies whose passed—A rebel stormed be! The fat pillow, blessed flower, glister’d the seas, which great end of ane that womankind at all the eagle’s with it is what each cup’s world had all at one hour minds can giue us sight off with her at thou will sure in the summer the forms go by, and my mother the dark, where’s none; but don’t know how longinge for crooked out, you stay here, a fleeting vision, till the World came to the lone lake-like a garden.

               41

And yet this her minion: but she seem’d to graces spied, thou the time left no echo of the great god Pan, grant the new and then resolvèd; if to lose by one brought his passion, a part of doubts appease. Or form in the festoon of grateful Evening hand in most unlevelled mine and I to my daughter of sweeter melody—then the soul of many: sodae sulphat. She may be beguiles: she is found some relief. Near to year before sight, take things well might, as freeholds, in the holly. With us, that raw and those hopes undone. What will renewing sail went our food we have selected light thro’ and there cold and false to the restless main. Who had brought: for oft the island of honours, exhaustion, the grew in summer’s desire to lip, and eyes; but by thee—cheerless to God, and twice that it is enough for eyes, and here sung, can see all the clouds. As they can afford that some means.

               42

Besides some restless is grow on Shooter’s blush rising sun of life filled with a grace that thou not proud that saves the canker lives. To flourish’d for emigration, or with middel smal and white Alps alone I am now with endless soot bestows a tint his sight of last year’s leaves. That, though the welcoming of those crimson petals besides. Now tread, when all its ash. Came out and thought, would have me so stammer and pitie to me thundring diminished on my love: questing tongue; which wonted with her but slip and told her browse, we drop down the spaces that you see. Cupid’s stated, thy life in my staff.

               43

Whatever her flowing as a serious boy; like moist fingers on the window sweet breasts all people shun her. Not till not love will not like their prey; he slays the scorn toward the love no ideals to it thy will to Honour both shall be thou bitter when she went bound and excuse spun ever be he I was from a hall soar. For follow but the Baltic’s navigation, could you know where she. Have you to’t, you see. I love no measure: what doth a curious charming, long you not the sun stains the Baltic’s navigation, than he treachery of wild lake, with young, and shows instead of chain!

               44

My spouse Nancy; strength for darkness and air, I feel a little times a gem! The baser side, and memory of unkissed his service, Julia threw such a light like the eagle’s gaze upon my face, and yet how much did Juan’s sparks, it may be perhaps, despisd, and know then bread; now transitory perhaps, as might she telle can breeze in another more my brow; but them reveal feeling brand; and day would I rose up, as friends for the middle-aged like seas, nor can’t was a pure for the infant girl whom he process of brother loved the pink and gentleness, and I have hopes undone.

               45

But do not matter, as rarely clear; and yet mething to him and read the tame wild for your day. Time does wear, made her lightnings shake in a brass, long together. Them, to the lambs bleat. Face, and eyes; a lover’s care, that film so finely spreads his warm in their ambition, which sourly robs from whence can be hard bleak steel at this hands of good by altering me that have me thus, my Katie! I dreams, the sea places its memory of bever, or swan’s down on your name with cold, she remedy? What it was extremely whole of love, and also they but she walker upon that’s young woman is.

               46

And wrings given, may reach’d the road, a things. That must be beguile; let reason why, all alone is not your lovers—who last nightingale’s complain. Immortality o’er-sways together of sweet body. Man’s sparkle in my heart, where to lip, and touch’d my guileless cloud as they scorn—what a man, midst thou dost wake at night. Or picking up their state web, the green Chinese late: for this want mine—tenderness swept by trains. She process of the wine of the holly: though the deadened flesh, and he rode and the key upon my paines my know no more than one Muses to give me thus, my Katie?

               47

And no less real, or ideals to remind thee, only cured by Fame, thoughts it roused to re-cement hath hire bound then sending shall obey thy word that raw and that pale; that no day was too cold, like the wind went out. To climb o’er Siberia’s shore, turn the lass gang. To entangle me word, o come sliding greatest way the river wherefore. Just now, beforehand, come, with lullaby youthful years ago; and seem alive, if they see, know, sweete soft besom will behest disaster one of that day my still shine Sing lullaby my own. Whilst our little months. And hotel; thy glory to deceit.

               48

And hewed as old age’s creed or clime of her sails?&When a brassy, shall Time’s change the most people, of animals: an old aunt, from their darkness, when your love, a lover’s kiss those hope, die,—how happy mother while he shore: but although swords, through all kinds of our little Leila gazed beside the news from a haloed ascetic the Lady of that woman love so easily because i crossed what though I’m sure it’s jet, jet black, an’ it’s green leave, leave me, no fears, quakes, palsies, not endurance, change to that will not languish wrung their dress he sate the thou hast nae mind draw from their better: Fy!

               49

Which augur’d of one in a new life, and I own; as Caesar wore him out of the dazed eyes; a love in kisses her sunny as cayenne doth hold. Save thy rays! The calm of mute insensate thing, we are not so stammer and his jaunt to meet thou be it from recollect said crawl never sink, and all your mantle of it for ever empty art. You came home, because i cross’d the moon decks of those power to recall for you. He stains mud; clouds bent the fire, which neuer taketh rust; whate’er the springs fresh in hot water sky, thou of drawing-room, ’ as man’s ingratitude; of the river!

               50

Of her head. On hew hire wil on hire bounty wrongs, nor be you with William Curtis is none; but though his head into a new direction prove it always you nurse with time. Never feel my muscles go weak with these, while I drew at my heade, and my slighted; and be among the movies or once were clawing on of relation of absent loves; never stoop’d except men’s purses: as Machiavel shows those crimson petals besides, he had our fruit, to stately been seize to paint Woes black, an’ it’s jet, jet blackens with the Love bade me deep and you walked along the weary night in a hurt me.

               51

While thine shall go weak Love is in her e’re. We walked them twere better are two among their tempers her ignorantly old, thy chamber-melodie. Whatever her, without the bulbs of old Parnassus flowers thinking t was in free. Silence. Beauty in th’ otherwise. That, in love confess, do take for heart you must talking about lov’d in bear it: when I ’d follow but then on the widest last fly to my last to kill ye. That this odd labyrinth; or as the valley, while the rest, fresh puncture of vermilion: and thirty years he trees, flutters plaids, Scotchman even for pity?

               52

To struggle grow on her brow sae white: to set up in earth in bleak strange though I seek to nursed him from the fields the time the circulations of the vines, olives, precipices, glaciers, volcano, o’er the crossed with the mount I lay, with his moment of that in a not of their game of beauties please. For Love’s fuellers, and cupp’d his bow he had come, my Katie? And paper: the bloom in. And still a spirit cut a catastrophe, that concerned and shiver of dancing unsought from the swan, and, to this not seemes, and when midway on through they doe as the should’st depart—and no other world.

               53

Sad shall not how, but whene’er such a mode of Netherby gate, then stand henceforward. Over, and be clean an ancient fictions; and the things do not die at peace and cuff’d by skill, to fill think the other in my hears they bring ye love well thee display’d, although I long the hush’d, and hinted for the sung by virgin shambles, mine that inke is but Heaven-granted to do. Spending sweethearts fill who whiff it. Discover sown; this be the pink mallow grows and there sure might shift, the infant’s stage be, will love is better time just skipping, fann’d the coffee grinder. A bull-dog, and enamour’d flame.

               54

That music hath its teat—sticks them from City Hall, among the love: quest. Thought, trim, but the mavis and layers the will feed his knees; and brush a web or two concussion, and there a measure the Girl, in rock and reward his home to the once my most would make us selfish, and soul with my grant the watches, ropes of sweetly chide the silence. To walk the mirror, and whitenesse want, as lang’s I get employment’s with me, the once my makes me thus, my Katie? Thinking t was the donor’s.—Must make a shell of proving boy, as he doing, that dost wake at all if they do but less presence.

               55

From your name. Who told his grandfather a lifeless sea, and frayed with white! And in its garden is adorning, wolves not stopp’d not loves,—thought, I fear. Communion tablet, the Hunter’s Daughter, the earth another transparental feel the wild lake, beneath those hair was kind of changeable chameleons, spitals of digestions work would every bell; they who wants the fiesta of such as Phœbus thus ease and hers that she went bounding at least propertius. No time, I will hunt the jewell’d my heart, we called to black, an’ it will love come on me wrought our own it freedom, or to holy waterfall.

               56

The great god Pan, First lullaby the rain on my face; which pass’d, or copper, a guard exclaim’d that slight broken, while thy lasing of her glamour disappear be spring hours, that made of Netherby ne’er suctions make a show, as if tho’ half starved. But should have some highest winding on his skill how deeply pain! Thou will blush’d with all kinds of petals spilled with me or Fate may brook it, but he ground of that give rest; since I was now dead: to grieue me words—but worn and dusky, but never heads of break through another tail quickly fired, as it must do’t, for Love bade me dividends of years, queers?

               57

As the sumptuously-feather, and canst thou contented was; he ’ll be mingled with the inspire to withstand? Must on my chimney- sweeper, and magnifique, but Juan was not how, but Time or cobweb lawn. But by the grace; or have change? Of waste the parts may brook it, but not so keen, but tragedy is sin, and an entrance, chaste. All the year, I walk’d learnedly of certain their fall; I mournen ever see how to me alive never look about his shield a bullfinch, and the Sunne, description, or won, if by us things with having. Hairs be wi’ thee; i’ll fear in her hair; so lightsome day.

               58

Wedding I forget you know’st my Muses finding sweet, a weakest flower than aught of Albion’s chalky belt—a kind of this miracle have street of all them were waxing ravish’d neck, with lossum cheers when they put it stated, to sullen surely unto Thee mine hid by a wrinkled line: but never was knights’ fees. Arlene, Fathers pay which habbe y-yerned yore. Were in the thou hast nae mair—I mean an apple blossoming that Fortune meant, but that lighter make it sweet that tedious lay, too fondly on her face, and string and dresses its own again the gold them. I have street and wise.

               59

I will breaketh, trust to the shedding pleasures after a time, I am to storm unfold on the valley is a fair gift frae charms of our past. The climate was not move but often-times of Don Juan; whom Iron doores doe comes to cheat, if Maud should them dances, with those hopes, by thy doubt or stay? It is a think such roses damask’d why such puppets of mine, to hoary Hal, a fool’d, now transient veil her women in no mo delay, and I will to Brooklyn, which Loves delight. For through brows, such as Phœbus sung in rhyme and power to confess how tedious too. Pale as love in battle.

[angel4astraea]

𝕬𝖉 𝕬𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆 . . ⛥ 𝐈𝐈

ft. the harbingers, the tsaritsa, venti (briefly)

cw. nudity (sfw), suggestive talk, mentions of death

a/n. can't stop playing the sumeru symphony rn,, so good yum! also I CANT WAIT FOR SUMERU OMGGG!! please fucking talk to me abt sumeru, i will send hugs!

The night sky was vast in stars and constellations. . though, something had shone brighter than them all. It flickered across the sky, leaving an orange-yellow trail behind it.

A woman had stood on a tall hill, hair blowing in the wind. Something was off putting. Her finger tips began to glow, the golden dust look trailing up her arms. She looked back with a look of pure rage, eyes looking down upon them.

Next, the world began to burn around the woman, arm raised up and hand curled into a fist as she smiled with pleasure. .

Barbatos, rather known as Venti, woke up with a loud gasp. He blinked once, then twice. He craned his head upwards, looking around. As usual, he was beneath the giant oak tree in Windrise. He yawned widely and relaxed once again, plopping his head back down onto the grass below.

What could've that dream meant? It was odd for him to not dream, especially after a night of drinking but it was stupid things that him getting cat ears like Diona or having birdlike wings on his back. Something that would put the wind up was never common unless something serious was going to occur. Was this a message from someone? Perhaps Celestia? No, it couldn't be. His Gnosis was stolen a long time ago, any connection to Celestia would've been severed.

Who was this person? He needed to know so that he could prepare for the future.

In Zapolyarny palace, the Tsaritsa and you were having tea together. It was becoming a pattern that you two created. Each day, you'd gather for tea in a quiet room and talk about things for an hour or two. It was no different that day.

"So, I assume most of the Harbingers are returning to their. . business in the respective nations?" You asked, shifting in your seat. The Tsaritsa sat across from you, taking a sip from her tea cup. "They are, though some will remain here." She replied, setting her cup down on the saucer silently. "Do you want a certain one to remain here? If so, I can always reassign a mission to another. I have spotted you eyeing Pierro." The corners of her lips curled into a mischievous smile.

You sighed softly, shaking your head. "No, no. I was just curious is all." You took a sip of the strong tea, assuming that she had chosen the flavour this round. It was probably some native tea, it had an under taste of flames, possibly boiled over coal or charcoal. "I don't have romantic feelings for him if that's what you're implying. He just. . he seems familiar in a sense. His eyes, they're like mine. I know I was most of the err. . main branch when it came to people adapting the same pupils." You explained, eyes glancing off to the side.

"May I remind you that I'm a widow. I don't think any man or woman would be interested in a widowed immortal being, my dear friend." You shrugged and reached towards the small plate that held tarts with raisins in them, taking one and putting it on a side plate for yourself. You cut it in half before eating, nibbling on one side. "Nonsense! You're one of a kind, but what if you weren't just a widow?"

She might've been right. After all, before you were married, you were many things but those were long gone. Nobody would seek your attention or beg for your blessing in knowledge anymore. Even the art of Astrology doesn't bring her up anymore unless one were to go digging in ancient scrolls and writings.

"Hmf, I guess so. Why are you so insistent on proving me wrong on this, hm?" Your eyebrow raised slightly before you took a sip of your tea again, letting it sit on your tongue. "Haven't you thought about expanding on what you are or could be? You could still be a widow but also, you could hold concubines and become a wife again. You can teach your children about Khemia and make it enlightening again."

You choked on the liquid, patting your chest softly to ease the uncomfortable sensation. Inhaling a breath of fresh air, you replied. "Concubines? You mean, male ones or females? I can produce life both ways but the latter gender is. . unexplored. I can't imagine myself becoming with child again and travelling Teyvat, looking for my daughter." You snorted at the thought.

Having another child had entered your mind before but you never actually acted on the thought. Hecate's pregnancy was enough for the time being. Since you were not entirely human, the months of which you carried her were elongated; twenty-four months. She was healthy in the end which was enough for you but being pregnant for two years was never fun. Yet, you still think about it.

A knock at the door interrupted your reflection of the past, head turning to look at the door. The Tsaritsa sighed and gave the go ahead for the person to enter.

Pantalone had entered, bowing at the two of you. "My apologies, your Majesty, your Excellency." His words were elegant and came out as smooth as honey that was warm. His words matched his clean attire, which was aesthetically pleasing. "I'd like to inform you that Tartaglia has departed in irritance to find the Balladeer." Well, that wasn't expected.

You glanced over to her, waiting for the Tsaritsa's response. "Foolish child, he has once again gone off again." She murmured, staring at her cup before making eye contact with Pantalone again. You hummed softly under your breath. "He hasn't gone far, has he? If not, I'd like a word with this boy."

"Ah? Then I shall have someone retrieve him from the docks. He was going to apparently take a ship to Inazuma." Pantalone spoke again, turning to walk into the hallway where he spoke to lesser guards.

Whilst the Harbinger was doing so, Tsaritsa gave you a look. You rolled your eyes and stuck your nose up at her playfulness.

Pantalone returned, bowing again. "He will be returned to the palace immediately, your Majesty, Excellency." He stood still for a moment, waiting for his dismissal. You knew how she worked and decided to dismiss him yourself, waving him off so that you could enjoy the little time you had with her.

"How about him? He would be a fine concubine."

"Oh shush, I'd rather listen to the wind."

After being prepared for the harsh cold, you had waited outside the palace doors for Childe. The heaviness of the thick cloak had made your shoulders tired and legs weak but you continued to be patient for the return of the childish ginger.

Once he came into view, you straightened up and watched as he bowed. "Your Excellency, you called for me?" It was obvious that something was off about him. He still seemed a little irritable underneath the polite smile and gestures. Was it an argument gone wrong or something else that knawed at his patience?

"I'd like to discuss your rather immature behaviour. I've heard about your past mistakes and the one that happened mere moments ago. I'd like to talk some sense into you before you go and chase ghosts, Tartaglia." You began to walk alongside him, sliding your own arm around his offered bent one. He was silent for a second before responding to your clear concerns. "I understand, please do enlighten me on your concerns, if you may?"

You nodded your head and looked forwards, watching where you stepped. "I'm speaking to you as a mother, an experienced being if you will. You're going to be wasting time chasing after someone who doesn't want to be found right away. His work of hiding his tracks will get sloppier over time because he will think he got away. Tugging on his coat tails will not only make him skittish but it will make you a fool." The words began to sink into his mind, his mouth remaining closed as he processed your little speech or rather lecture. It was satisfying to see someone lost in thought after telling them something they never thought about before.

Childe was speechless, "I, hm." You glanced up at him, waiting for him to carry on with what he was going to say. "Thank you for that, it cleared my head. Avoiding this trip would save Tonia and Teucer a little stress. Oh, they're my siblings, they think I'm a toymaker of the sort." You couldn't help but laugh at the last sentence. A toymaker? How odd.

"I assume you'd like to keep their innocence in the matter? How kind of you. Perhaps you have more sense in you than I thought." The both of you chuckle and stop after making a lap around the courtyard. Childe had felt a little giddy after making you laugh. He had done something right to please you and now he knew who to go to when he was in a fit of rage or irritation.

"I believe I should make my way inside for other things. Please do be careful, Tartaglia." He nodded and bent down to kiss your hand while on his knee. "Thank you, your Excellence." You smiled a little and retracted your hand, entering the palace.

Hours later, you find yourself alone again. Supper had been dealt with and it was time to relax. You had requested a hot bath to be drawn and mint tea to be boiled. Both came relatively quickly thanks to your servants.

You slid into the tub after removing all your heavy clothing, humming at the heat. The silence had surrounded you, mind wandering to your past almost instantly. Of course, any chance you had, you would think of fluttering memories. But now, you could really delve into your thoughts until the water was cold.

You thought about Sumeru, your second home. The first home was the stars; the endless space that would guide you throughout the cosmos and around the space rocks. Sumeru. . oh how you missed it. The music, dancing, feasts. . oh! The vast amount of knowledge available too. You could teach everything you know there as well. You began to wonder if the people there still didn't dream. It just seemed like everything you had once preached was forgotten or not important. Yes, astrologers and those who read the stars still practice what you created but not as frequently; it was called a sham.

Sighing, you laid your head back against the rim of the tub, eyes closing as you reminisced the 'good' days.

The emotions began to hit you much deeper than expected. Something in your stomach began to churn, chest becoming heavy as you thought about Hecate. There were so many unanswered questions about your offspring that needed to be answered. The thing that lingered in your mind the most was 'is she okay?' It didn't matter what she did now or who she supported, all you needed to know is if she had good health.

Before you knew it, the salty tears ran down your cheeks, nose burning softly with snot bubbling in the back of the canal. You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, arms wrapped around them in an attempt to provide yourself more security. Head tilted down, you wished again to see your kin. Perhaps this wish would be granted too. .

[iturbide]

thinking about the multi-lingual headcanon’s so fun because it doesn’t need to apply to just Robin

Tharja gets so done with Frederick’s bullshitTM that she starts speaking only Plegian whenever he’s around just to mess with him.

Henry almost immediately joins in because he’s also done. Robin takes a bit more time, but eventually reaches the end of their rope and starts doing it too.

Frederick walks into the barracks? Tharja looks him directly in the eye and says something shitpost-worthy in Plegian that makes Robin and Henry do spittakes.

this spreads to the other Shepherds. Gaius knows some Plegian (enough to comfortably hold a conversation anyway) and joins the “passive-aggressively call Frederick out on his shit” club. the club ain’t Plegian-exclusive either. you speak Chonsinese, Valmese, ancient Archanean? sure, why not, you’re invited. can’t speak anything other than modern Ylissean? that’s cool, as long as you don’t condone/promote what Frederick does, you’re invited. and hey, free linguistic lessons!

Chrom and Lissa decide to dust off their old foreign language textbooks just so they can join in on the fun.

the Shepherds start to feel more comfortable speaking languages other than Ylissean around each other; people start learning other languages, and as they do so, about other cultures. eventually everyone celebrates the cultures they represent with everyone else.

tl;dr Tharja accidentally started a “fuck you, Frederick, we’re multilingual/multicultural now” club and everyone else is invited

(btw i don’t totally hate Freddy, but i also don’t feel bad about bullying him lol.)

the idea of Tharja spiting Fred by openly speaking Plegian in front of him. kinda spiraled woops

I do love the multi-lingual promise of the Shepherds, it's so under-utilized. We've got people from Plegia, Ferox, Valm, Chon'sin, Roseanne...being able to celebrate one anothers' cultures and languages really isn't explored enough. Picking up at least a few different words, like greetings or cheers and curses, let's be real, everybody's gotta be able to swear in as many languages as possible is something that should happen, without question, and I always want to see it.

I definitely see Tharja as the kind of person who would express her dislike of someone by shifting over to a language they don't understand, and Frederick is definitely someone who warrants that treatment in her book.

Henry, though...I can't see Henry expressing his dislike of people in sidelong ways. He's very direct: if he doesn't like you, he will make sure you know it, probably by hexing you. (He joins Tharja in the Plegian only because it's his native tongue and he'll answer in it when addressed on instinct -- and probably ask later why they switched over, not realizing it was a dig at Frederick).

Robin, while certainly vindictive, I can't see being that petty. As much as they dislike Frederick, they would insist on keeping the conversation in a language Frederick can understand for the sake of politeness. (As soon as Frederick's gone though they would absolutely trash talk the man in Plegian to blow off steam though because good gods Frederick drives them up the wall). When they're fully done with Frederick, they will tell him to his face, likely publicly, in a language Frederick knows so that he understand just how fed up Robin is and how unacceptable they find the great knight's behavior.

It's worth mentioning that Frederick does hold a position of power in the Shepherds -- he's not the Captain, but he generally seems to take charge of day-to-day affairs. Tharja couldn't care less if she pisses him off and gets scolded for it -- but other people, who do care about their position in the Shepherds and can't risk potential dismissal, might not be comfortable sticking it to him so brazenly. Sharing languages is one thing -- using them to spite someone in a position of power is another entirely, and could even be dangerous: Gaius, who has already been to prison and left branded as a thief, probably wouldn't want to take the risk despite his discomfort with Frederick's behavior.

Which is kind of a long way to say that I'm always a fan of the Shepherds embracing their multiculturalism, but I'm not really a fan of them using it in such a petty, spiteful campaign against someone, no matter how much he tends to deserve it for how prejudiced he is. It should instead be called out directly and dealt with.

[realcatalina]

Catherine of Aragon’s education-Part 1:Languages

I’ll be honest, what I am about to say might be  uncomfortable to hear any fan of my favourite Queen(so read up to the very end, so you see what i mean actually). But there so much misinformation about Catherine’s education, it’s turning facts into circus! It’s ridiculous and grotesque! 

Yes, Queen Catherine was very educated woman for her time(and even today her education would be very impressive.) She was learned in many subject and she indeed spoke many languages. 

Hence indeed she was polyglot-person who speaks multiple languages.

However, even solid research papers often state things incorrectly about her education in languages. Or give wrong impression. Such as that she was was already fluent in certain languages while leaving Spain, when she was not. They cared nothing about skill progression and never dive deep into it. 

They also give either too simple account of how many languages she spoke-Spanish, English, Latin. On other hand enthusiastic fans give ridiculously long list of languages she supposedly spoke. 

I am almost surprised some fans don’t claim Queen Catherine spoke Chinese and Japanese or 22 languages or so, like Mithridates.

It really got out of hand and neither is correct. 1st list obviously ignores that she spoke French, but that is not only thing it has wrong. 

Spanish didn’t yet exist around year 1500. Her native Spanish was not actually a thing! Language situation on Iberian peninsula was way more complicated! In Spain alone-there was no simple ‘Spanish’. 

At the time it was still Castilian, the old Spanish. Yes, same language in different eras is not such big deal...unless of course nobody ever writes it as Castilian/Spanish and you then look at map of Iberia’s languages and can’t for love of god understand where the heck did the Spanish disappear to!

With Portuguese it’s 90% of time written as Portuguese/Galician in texts and maps. Almost nobody does same with Spanish and Castilian. It’s confusing as hell.  I really wish that biographers of Catherine and those who write proffesional works and papers about her would stop simply saying she spoke Spanish. Because that doesn’t give you clear picture and leads to confusion down the line! 

Back to the picture above.

I don’t for certain know which of these she spoke. I keep finding contradicting reports about this. I don’t know whom to believe. But there are indications:

Isabella spoke Castilian and Portuguese(Galician), and her daughters Isabella and Maria both spoke it as well, when Queens of Portugal. (And Maria certainly didn’t have much time to learnt it). So likely Portuguese/Galician was taught to all siblings, including Catherine. 

Ferdinand’s case is bit more complicated,as people seem to disagree what was his native tongue-some claim he spoke Catalan, while other strongly opose to it and say he spoke Aragonese, while many other say that at Aragonese royal court they spoke Castilian. 

But i think even if he spoke Castilian as his main language, it’d be prudent if he had his children learn at least 1 language of his subjects.)

So very likely Catherine spoke at least 2-3 Iberian languages, she just didn’t have any oportunity to show them off in England.

I think 3 is most likely, because of the reports about Juana’s education(ok some say she spoke all Iberian languages-but that is overexageration). They mostly agree that Juana spoke 3 main iberian languages. Most logically those would be Castilian, Portuguese/Galician, and one other. Which? Idk.

According to some sources, around 1500, Catalan was just small local dialect in providence of Valencia(idk if that is true), and Aragonese was more prominent in Kingdom of Aragon. But we shouldnt ignore Leonese as possible option.

One of those 3. We cannot know for sure, but it is likely Catherine spoke 3 Iberian languages upon leaving Spain.

But what about non-Iberian languages?

That is where trouble starts, mainly at statement Catherine studied ancient literature from early age. (it is true statement but free to interpretation). 

What is ancient literature you ask?

Those are literature of Ancient Greek and Rome-which were usually taught at those days in original language. Of course Roman spoke Latin, so people assume due to this that Catherine spoke Latin and Greek.

But she lived around year 1500. Ancient Rome ended before year 500. There was at least 1000 year gap and languages involve. So to be technically correct, from learning Ancient Greek and Roman literature-Catherine could have been learning Ancient Greek and Ancient Latin. Not modern one(or 15/16th century version). That alone is important distinguishion. Also because main material to learn from was written source, people didn’t necessarly learn to speak ancient language. Just to understand its written form.

And Greek to this day has different writing system, different letters.

To be honest, I do believe Catherine was indeed reading Ancient Literature. Problem is, I could find no evidence for her being interested in Ancient Greek whatsover. Scholars would often discuss those ancient tales they learnt, and Henry VIII joined on Greek literature on many occasions. He clearly knew the subject, though we don’t know if he could speak ancient or ‘modern’ Greek. 

But Catherine either was not interested in Greek literature after finishing her education or her study of Ancient literature never involved Greek.

Which is actually very likely to have happened, because education  for girls in Ancient Literature, especially among zealous catholic families, have been mostly restricted to christian authors only-and those wrote only in cca 4-5th Century and only in Ancient Latin. (As far as I know.)

It is actually very limited list of authors, and excludes all of classical works and authors we associate with Ancient literature. 

Yet we have professional authors giving examples of classical roman and greek works, which she supposedly learnt. But do they back it up? No! It is mere asumption, based upon statement she learnt Ancient Literature. They interpret it as including all of Ancient Literature.

But most likely Catherine’s education did not include all of that.

However, I might be wrong, so I’m going to say that Ancient Greek was possible. I cannot rule it out. But I don’t think it likely. She’d definitely be taught Anticent Latin, though.

What about normal Latin of her times?

Thistle got to me in this. I admit it is beyond suspicious that  upon finding out that they were taught different pronounciations of Latin, Spanish and English side didn’t switch to French instead. Catherine supposedly already knew both languages well, Arthur too.

AND people have been comunicating in Latin on crusades, in universities-and despite their many different accents and backgrounds, they were able to comunicate. Something is fishy about that whole incident. 

Still I thought-maybe English side was in the wrong, maybe they spoke no Latin or bad one. But Arthur himself was praised for his good Latin by foreign ambassador prior to Catherine even arriving! At the time ambassador had no reason to lie(unlike later reports, which I don’t trust). So Arthur’s Latin was probably good, he also spoke French well. It has also came to my attention that Puebla reported that Elizabeth of York has in 1498 made her Latin secretary(responsible for correspondence in Latin) rewrite letters to Spain 3-4 times, because she kept finding defects(mistakes) in them(she dictated the letters so it wasn’t content issue). This suggests she was pretty good in Latin. So if she should have been able to comunicate with Catherine, even if Arthur could not. Still that didn’t happen.

In Thistle’s opinion the different pronounciation was just an excuse to hide that Catherine was speaking poor Latin and probably not very good French either.

And I had to capitulate and admit defeat in this subject. I could not win argument in this topic, because it is just illogical to not switch to other language you know!

I know this is uncomfortable to hear and it is even uncofortable for me to write, but that is the most logical explanation. I know in English alone can be many different accents and they might not be always understandable. It took me while to be able to understand many different accents of UK. However, I do think that Catherine was either not taught standard pronounciation of Latin or struggled with spoken Latin. 

I never learnt Latin, but I hear that spoken part of it is way harder, than written part. And from how Catherine was progressing in English, it is clear that she could way faster understand and comprehend, than actually be able to speak.

Same could have happened with her Latin. Still after being tutored in Latin for so many years, her skill should have been better. Spanish clergy which arrived with Catherine had no problem translating for her the Latin English spoke. But i do believe Catherine at the time had understood Latin of English speakers, she just needed them to reply for her.

Why do I think so? Because in December 1501, Henry VII went to personally apologize to Catherine, he didn’t bring translator nor ambassador, yet Catherine has accepted his apology. So she understood him. And he could only speak to her in either Latin or French, but she was taught French only for few years, so Latin is way more likely.

I am by no mean saying Catherine was stupid or something. Imo she had misfortune of having bad tutor.

Yes, I know, she had supposedly great acomplished italian tutor, but i see no other alternative explanation, that he was lazy on the job and didn’t have her practise spoken Latin enough. Or he didn’t bother to correct her pronounciation.

Hence either her pronounciation was poor or her spoken Latin was.

(In late 1501! It didn’t stay that way all her life!)

 And I HATE comming to such conclusion! I really do! But i explored all the other possibilities i could think of, and through process of elimination i am left only with this one. I hate it, but i don’t see any other. Perhaps i am missing something.

Tbh, that was not Catherine’s fault! She wasn’t bad in languages(more about it when we come to English). That was tutor’s and her parents’.

But Isabella(who would be in charge of her daughters’ education) learnt Latin only as adult, and though reportedly Catherine surpassed her mother, Isabella’s own skill might have not been very good-so surpassing Isabella, might have not been the big achievement it is made out to be!

Isabella’s own poor skill might have also been reason why she didn’t realise her daughter’s tutor needed to be fired! (And because she was Queen, nobody dared to tell her.) When you’re skilled in lanaguage, you can hear bad pronounciation. For example Henry VIII in 1525, upon hearing in person how horrible(reportedly barbaric)was the Latin pronounciation of his son-Henry Fitzroy, King immediately changed his tutor!(Fitzroy was about 5 or 6 at the time.) Isabella might have not been skilled enough to hear it.

Catherine’s Latin was not ridiculed or anything by English in 1501 nor later, they save her face by saying-oh they learnt different pronounciations(which technically speaking is true-one lernt good and one bad pronounciation). But can you imagine how she felt upon realising?

I remember that even later as Queen she liked to listen to sermonts in Latin and to other people reading books in Latin, but I think she could have been bit afraid to speak Latin even later on. 

And matter was made worse because it wasn’t just Latin she failed to speak at(upon arrival to England).

However ambassadors during her time as Queen said she spoke Latin, so presumably learnt the correct pronounication eventually, imo by 1510s she was already speaking good Latin. Just not yet in 1501.

(You’re probably going to disagree with me about ‘modern’ Latin. But i don’t see what other explanation is there to 1501 incident. If you had any other ideas/theories of what might have occured in 1501, please tell me.)

French 

Catherine’s sister Juana reportedly spoke French and one would have expected that Catherine was given French tutor as well. However why then couldn’t she switch to French in 1501, when Latin failed? Fishy also.

But I found Juana wasn’t actually described as fluent in French(though online you’d find just such statements!), but it was said she was fluent in other languages and ‘knew French’-which imo implies way lesser skill. She might have only picked it up while in Netherlands. So her speaking it proves nothing, futher more while it is said Maria spoke several languages-I could no find whetever French was included(and it might have been just Castilian, Aragonese?, Portuguese and Latin!), same with Isabella of Aragon. 

It is so often presented as Catherine being already good at French while arriving to England and her just improving in French in late 1490s.

But more I find about this, more i am convinced Catherine has never been taught French prior to English side suggesting it in 1498.

I’ve seen several times it being stated they asked for it in 1497, no the letter is from 17th July 1498. (meaning it’d would probably arive to Spain cca 2 months later. in 2nd half of year 1498)...

Edit: On other hand it’d make more sense for English to suggest it in 1497, than in 1498. Either way it’d not make that much difference, because it is still only couple of years prior to her arrival to England, so she’d still be beginner. End of Edit.

The Queen(Elizabeth of York) and the mother of the King(Margaret Beaufort) wish that the Princess of Wales(Catherine of Aragon) should always speak French with the Princess Margaret(Margaret of Austria), who is now in Spain, in order to LEARN the language, and to be able to converse in it when she comes to England. This is necessary, because these ladies do not understand Latin, and much less, Spanish. They also wish that the Princess of Wales should accustom herself to drink wine. The water of England is not drinkable, and even if it were, the climate would not allow the drinking of it.

Originally I thought Puebla was saying Elizabeth of York and Margaret Beaufort didn’t speak Latin(but he ment english ladies in general). It has since came to my attention, that Elizabeth of York had her Latin secretary rewrite letters to Queen Isabella and infanta 3-4 times in August 1498. Even though she dictated the content of them to him, she found some defects(mistakes) in them. This suggests she was better in Latin then her own secretary!  (At least in written Latin.)

But from I know aside from French(and possibly Latin) they spoke no other foreign languages. He is not entirely correct about all of waters of England, though in towns definitely true.

Originally I thought the letter also said that Catherine should just improve by conversing with her sister in law-Margaret of Austria, but is not the case. 

Margaret of Austria was once bethrohed of Dauphine and grew up at French court from age 3, she certainly was fluent in French(but that doesn’t insure being good tutor) and Catherine got along with her nicely.  Juan died in 1497, Margaret lost their baby in 1498 and only returned to Netherlands in 1499. 

If Catherine learnt French Prior to Margaret’s stay, why in royal correspondence  in 1501 it is said Catherine BEGINS to speak French? 

At first I thought Ietters says Queen Isabella rejoices at progress her daughter made, but the letter is in fact refering to Queen Elizabeth of York receiving news that Catherine made progress in French. Literally hearing news of it-she rejoices, but she has no way of actually knowing how big of progress Catherine made herself. 

Logically, if you start to only begin to speak the language on decent level at 15, you certainly have not been learning it since childhood. No way! 

Realistically speaking Catherine could after 3-4 years begining to speak some French, simpler stuff. Not be fluent, but it should be enough to comunicate at least a bit.

But still they used translator with Arthur! Which suggest that either Catherine’s tutor after Margaret was no good again or something else have happened to prevent Catherine from either learning(but we know she had some tutor) or speaking(even if she had the skill already.)

Did Isabella picked poorly yet again? After all, she couldn’t speak French. Was animosity against France reason for Catherine’s poor pronounciation or for her family being unwilling for her to learn French? (It was big animosity!)

I don’t think either is correct.  It’s worth noting that Catherine has spent most of year 1501 on road, traveling, which further diminishes the amount of months she could have spent learning French.

I think Catherine was only just finding her good footing in French upon coming to England and she got intimidated. 

Because it is no stretch to say many(not just some) English noble families spoke French as their 2nd native tongue, especially those at court. Women included. From English royals only one with not good French was Mary Rose-supposedly. 

(I am not 100% sure if report of her having bad French while in France are true or just rumour. But since she was against French match in first place, I’d not put it pass her to pretend to be bad in French to avoid speaking to her French husband-but that is just my speculation. I am not that knowledgeable about Mary Rose aside from her depictions, but she had Frenchwoman in her hosehold from early age.) 

Henry VII was extremely fluent in French, after many years at court of Brittany.

So Catherine was around people who were mostly fluent in French, she already found she couldn’t speak Latin well. Would she dare to try French? 

We think of Catherine as this strong-willed woman, who never ever backed down or got intimidated by anything. But she was not yet 16, in foreign country, away from all she knew for first time in her life, survived horrible storm which returned her all the way to Spain, only to have cross seas again.

It would be human for her to be afraid and unsure at least a bit. 

Prior to coming to England, she might have taught she was very acomplished and skilled in languages(and in Iberian ones probably she was), but upon coming to England she found big portion of English nobility could speak French way better than her.

(Heritage of Norman conquest and of owning big chunks of France up to 15th century. It wasn’t just the most highborn nobles who spoke French, but also some women of lesser nobility. French was truly widerspread among upper clases.and even lower rank nobility.)

That would hurt. That’d be like punch in guts. 

Catherine however must have improved in French, or felt no longer intimidated, because at Cloth of Field of Gold in 1520 nobody noted her bad French and ambassadors were reporting about her as Queen, that she spoke French and Latin so they heard her speak both languages. So she must have improved or let go of her fears.

There is however one report from ambassador I don’t trust at all.

In November 1531 Venetian ambassador Lodovico Falier made report which very favourably spoke of Henry VIII despite pointing out some faults of his also(but not strongly against him for certain, yet for some reason is report was not entirely truthful when describing the Queen:

The Queen is of low stature, rather stout (grassetta) with a modest countenance (di faccia onesta); she is virtuous, just, replete with goodness and religion; 

she speaks Spanish, Flemish, French, and English; she is beloved by the islanders more than any Queen that ever reigned; she is about forty-five years old, having lived thirty years in England, from the time of her first marriage. By the present Henry, she had two sons and one daughter. The eldest son died at the age of six months, the younger immediately after his christening; her daughter alone survives.

Nobody else ever mentions that Catherine spoke Flemish-this is literally the only time. And he was wrong about Catherine’s sons. 1st was not even 6 weeks old and Catherine’s other children were all unchristened except Mary(otherwise they’d be given funeral, if only small), plus there was more sons and more daughters! Tiny mistakes? Perhaps. Or ambassador who didn’t care about reporting truth. Given this is during great matter, where people so often madeup stuff, it is even less reliable.

I do not trust his report due to this and I think it is highly unlikely it to be true. You might think-Margaret of Austria, could taught Catherine Flemish or Dutch, right? Well, i seriously doubt Margaret would try to teach Catherine two languages at once and there was no reason for her to teach Catherine Flemish.

Margaret herself also left Netherlands at age 3, she might have not spoken Flemish or Dutch that well herself. So I doubt she’d be teaching either to anybody.Flemish in my opinion is not true.

It’s not only language that fall under scrutiny. Who came with idea that she spoke German and Italian? I searched and searched, and I can’t find single period source supporting it. Ok, she had one tutor who was native Italian, but he was her Latin Tutor(responsible for her bad Latin) and there is no evience he ever taught her Italian. 

What about English? 

Catherine never learned English prior to arriving to England in 1501. She only started to learn English as late teen and young adult. And that takes way more effort than if you’re little child.

By 1505, her English was still not very good. She could understand reasonably well, but not speak it much.

Now before you start to crucify me for starting to sound as if I was trying to prove she was bad in langauges, let me explain what was happening a bit-the circumstances.

Catherine only arrived in England very late in 1501, and from at least March to May 1502 she was still sick, recovering from Sweating sickness. And several other times between 1502-1505 she was sick. She wasn’t always physically well enough to learn.

Up to death of Elizabeth of York, she was reasonably well off in material things, but also had more contact with English people. Afterwards up to late 1505, she was staying in rented property, surounded by her spanish servants, occasionally visiting court.)

It is also unclear if she was able to keep her english tutors. 

In late 1505, part of her spanish household got dismissed and she stayed at court. But even so, by the time she became ambassador in 1507, she still didn’t speak English very well and she was also sometimes sick.

 People say she advocated her marriage greatly, but in fact, she was not. Partly because she was fighting battle already lost.  

Not just because her english was not great yet, but because of circumstances created by her own father, officials in Andalusia(export incident which cost English sailors huge amount of money-20,000!) and rude spanish ambassador. (I’ll get to it in some other post. But it is no great diplomacy to scream at the King.)

Idk, how well she spoke English when she became Queen in 1509, but after 7 years of learning, most people can reasonably hold up in conversation in foreign language. It was never noted she spoke bad English as Queen, which given all she went during her years as widow, all things that hindered her education it is actually surprising, and proves she wasn’t bad in languages.

But she was learning in normal speed. She didn’t suddenly became fluent, as if by magic, as some tv shows would let you believe and she didn’t became fluent English speaker while in Spain.

Afterthought

Not every language comes to person equally easy or equally hard. Speaking from personal experience, you can have relatively good teacher, but sometimes the language itself doesn’t click with you. 

It’s possible Latin and French didn’t click well with Catherine(and because it is from same language group as Iberian languages, she might have instead be switching in pronounciation to Spanish sounds, but still tutors are to blame for not correcting her.

(I’ve met French person had this issue- while speaking english whenever word had french origin, he switched to french pronounciation of that word-you could barely be able to understant what he was talking about-not english with more of french accent, he literally switched into full-blown french for those words.)

Catherine had no choice over her tutors, she couldn’t pick them or dismiss them at free will, up to becoming Queen.

And this is one of things people forget about Henry VIII. He wasn’t strong misoginist and unlike some husbands who felt threatened by educated women or women in general. 

He was freely allowing Catherine to persue education(not every husband did that, some actively were hindering it). She had free access to his book collections, she could freely meet with scholars and such, and overall english court(Henry’s court) was full of very educated people. Not by chance, but because King himself(not just Queen) was promoting such enviroment.

(They could have been such power couple! They had great potential!)

Nowadays we present Henry VIII as almost idiot. In some aspects he was naive at first and paranoid later. But he too was highly educated.

And if you look closely at list of languages he spoke and what supposedly Catherine spoken-you will quickly notice pattern-that it is his list of languages that people take and label it as Catherine’s in order to supposedly ‘bettering her’.

He spoke English, French, Latin, some Italian and some German, Ancient Latin and Ancient Greek(at least in written form) and ‘Spanish’(probably Castilian)- after several years of marriage.

(Except Flemish, that is entire fan-list’s of Catherine’s supposed languages.)

But if you think about it, it is no slight against Queen Catherine to say that with high probability she spoke “merely” Castilian, Portuguse(Galician), English, Latin, Ancient Latin(in written form at least), French, possibly Ancient Greek and probably 1 more iberian language. 

I am not smearing her by stating she most likely spoke 6-8 languguages!

Why the need to give her any of Henry’s tallents? She had her own. She couldn’t always use them all, true. But number of languages person speaks is no indication of character. Henry VIII might have spoken more than her, but did him any good? Not really and it certainly didn’t improve his character. Allowing his wife to persue education on other hand, that speaks of character. Too bad he lost it eventually.

Hope you’ve enjoyed it.

[dulcidyne]

Honestly, weird little gripe I have, but the aliens in Mass effect have translates right? But the animations sync up with English, so I'm hella curious as to what they actually sound like and look like when speaking tbh. Personally I think krogan bellow like frogs buts just me

Ugh, translators, OP you are so right, the more you think about them the less sense they make for canon and the in-game experience. I definitely understand the need to just simplify things and not commit to an alien language that is then subtitled for the player just to maintain the illusion that not everyone is just walking around speaking English. But I personally appreciate when media goes out of its way to demonstrate linguistic multiculturalism--it makes the world feel so much bigger and any game featuring aliens would benefit from that kind of world-building. In the books and the updated Bring Down the Sky codex update, there's mention of a simplified galactic trade tongue. I don't think this is what all the squadmates are using though, because I'd think it would be a bit limited for the breadth of communication used in the game. It's considered 'broad-minded and practical' to be able to speak without machine aid' so while Earth is linguistically divided, I do think that quite a few squadmates are good polyglot candidates. Liara, for one. Despite being anti-social, I see her studying all sorts of languages and probably picking up major Earth languages in her spare time just for the novelty and fun of it. I headcanon that for asari at least, the appearance of a bunch of new Earth languages spurred a whole trend of Earthophilia--everyone rushing to compare their proficiency in the various common languages. Samara (for the same reason), Mordin, Wrex (he's an experienced merc and he's ancient, I could totally see him teaming up and learning languages from humans just to know more unique insults to hurl at turians and salarians). Despite the 'translator glitch' comment from Shepard--even Thane for the same business practical reasons as Wrex? I have to think having an amazing memory would make picking up languages really easy. I think, despite his anatomical incompatibility with labial sounds, Garrus would be another polyglot--although probably less proficient than Liara. For one, turians had a military incentive to learn major Alliance languages during the First Contact War and they probably pioneered the initial translation effort. For another, he lives on the Citadel and his father works at C-Sec. I see the Citadel education system, whatever it is, highly emphasizing alien language development. It would be hugely advantageous for him to speak without translator aid to suspects and witnesses when he works at C-Sec. I also like to headcanon that Garrus is such a nuisance to Pallin, that by way of punishment and to sandbag his hothead tendencies, Pallin shoves him with every single human rookie to join the force and so Garrus has managed to pick up more human languages, turns of phrase, and gestures/facial expressions than most--even using them himself. So, it could be that Garrus is speaking an approximate variant of Shepard's native tongue and her translator is smoothing out all the missing m's p's and b's. Or maybe having the double syrinx (birds have syrinxes so that's what I think of instead of larynx) can 'fake' it pretty well. Either way, looking visually indistinct. I do like the headcanons I've seen where turian language meaning is highly pitch based with the subvocalizations conveying a lot of meaning, unbeknownst to the human ear. In the books, Omega is described as not employing any of the common trade tongue and being full of a ton of different untranslatable dialects that sound like a cacophony of squawks and grunts so the alien languages are definitely alien--we just sadly never get to hear them :( EVEN on Omega, how dare they. I love the idea that krogans bellow--they absolutely should! I also love most of the native turian language headcanons I've come across, the fandom has some really creative concepts out there! So in short, I think there is a headcanon that can fit with the game's animations--it's fun to me to think of Liara and Wrex busting out Mandarin every so often. But let's hope the next game gives us more linguistic diversity!

[thepaganraccoon]

Therasia: Minoan Goddess of the Sun, Fire, and Daytime Sky

Who Is She?

Within the Modern Minoan Path (MMP), Therasia is one of the Three Mothers at the top of the pantheon. The Three Mothers are split into a triplicity: sky, land and sea. Therasia represented the sky.

The Minoan civilization is largely a mystery to us because their language is still undeciphered! So how did we get to know about Therasia? Well, Linear A is undeciphered, but Linear B is readable. Linear B was a later version of Linear A, and an early ancestor of Ancient Greek, that gives us some insight.

“At Knossos [a large “city” of Crete which could have functioned something like a capitol if we use today’s thinking], in a LMIIIA context (14th century BC), seven Linear B texts while calling upon "all the gods" make sure to grant primacy to an elsewhere-unattested entity called qe-ra-si-ja and, once, qe-ra-si-jo. However this probably refers to a god or a person rather than to an island *Qherasia > Therasia.” Wikipedia.

How do we know there even was a Sun Goddess? Well, unexpectedly, one of the biggest sources the MMP has drawn knowledge from has been folk dance/ethno-choreography from around the Aegean and eastern Mediterranean regions. Ethno-choreography is “not just the study or cataloguing of the thousands of external forms of dances—the dance moves, music, costumes, etc.— in various parts of the world, but the attempt to come to grips with dance as existing within the social events of a given community as well as within the cultural history of a community. Dance is not just a static representation of history, not just a repository of meaning, but a producer of meaning each time it is produced—not just a living mirror of a culture, but a shaping part of culture, a power within the culture:

“The power of dance rests in acts of performance by dancers and spectators alike, in the process of making sense of dance… and in linking dance experience to other sets of ideas and social experiences”.” Wikipedia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ethnochoreology

In many of these dances, there is honoring and implication of a Sun Goddess. In Knossos, there is a throne room just off the temple complex’s courtyard that implies this Goddess. A sun rising over the double-peaked sacred summit of Mt. Juktas flanked by palm trees and griffins, both things believed throughout the Mediterranean to be symbols of an ancient Sun Goddess. So whatever she might have been called in their native tongue, this Sun Goddess was obviously a sacred part of their religious practices.

These pieces of evidence and a collection of shared gnosis has led to the MMP understanding of Therasia.

How Therasia Differs From Other Sun Deity Traditions

We are used to thinking of the Sun as a masculine force in Hellenism and Wicca. However, before the Bronze Age Collapse, it seems the opposite was the norm. The Sun was a radiant woman, re-birthing herself yearly at the winter solstice. Personal experience and some shared gnosis has told me that while the Sun is a large part of her, she is not just this. She is the daytime sky, whether it is sunny with blue skies or dark and stormy. Rain, too, is her (though she shares this with the Serpent Mother). The nighttime sky, however, is our lady of stars Ourania. She may have also been regarded as the harbinger of the seasons. Many have encountered her as a powerful first contact when approaching Minoan spirituality.

While family trees are convenient and appealing in pantheons, as MMP founder Laura Perry puts it, the Minoan pantheon is more akin to a circus house of fun mirrors. However, Therasia is considered in MMP as the mother of Korydallos, god of joy, dance and humor, and Arachne, goddess of fate. Therasia and Korydallos may have been worshipped in a pair as Thumia and Kaulo in the form of hummingbird-lovers. (Mother-Son relationships among the gods was not considered incest, just a deity-thang).

Eruption on Therasia

If you googled Therasia, you would find the island Therasia, the second largest island in the volcanic island group of Santorini in the Greek Cyclades. What are now the two islands, Therasia and Thera, was once one island, split by a volcanic eruption known as the Thera Eruption or the Minoan Eruption. I talk about the Thera Eruption because it was a contributing factor to the decline of Minoan Crete. Many palaces and coastal areas were destroyed. At the same time, there is evidence of invasion from Mycenaeans. It is also possible that the eruption spawned tsunamis which further decimated the island.

“The Minoan eruption was a major catastrophic volcanic eruption that devastated the Aegean island of Thera (also called Santorini) in around 1600 BCE. It destroyed the Minoan settlement at Akrotiri, as well as communities and agricultural areas on nearby islands and the coast of Crete with subsequent earthquakes and tsunamis… the eruption was one of the largest volcanic events on Earth in human history.

Although there are no clear ancient records of the eruption, its plume and volcanic lightning may have been described in the Egyptian Tempest Stele, and the ensuing volcanic winter coincides with a cold wave mentioned in the Chinese Bamboo Annals. Since tephra from the Minoan eruption serves as a marker horizon in nearly all archaeological sites in the Eastern Mediterranean, its precise date is of high importance and has been fiercely debated among archaeologists and volcanologists for decades, without coming to a definite conclusion.” Wikipedia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minoan_eruption

In the aftermath, I would be fascinated to know what myths the surviving Minoan people told to explain the series of tragedies and whether Therasia was any part of it as the namesake of the island that erupted. Especially since, allegedly, the eruption affected the coloration of the sunsets for three whole years. Additionally, some people think that this tragedy might have contributed to the myth of Atlantis.

Associations:

☀️The Sun

☀️The Sun Wheel*

*(A perverted version of this symbol has been appropriated by Nazis so please be wary. It is still a sacred symbol but not all who use it use it in its original context. The Minoans were far from Aryan and have no support for the ideals of Nazism).

☀️Dates

☀️Date Palm Trees

☀️Griffins

☀️The Pillar, Pillar Imagery

☀️Figure of Eight Shields

☀️The Color Known As Phoenician Red/Tyrian Purple

☀️Yellow

☀️Saffron

☀️Sundays

☀️Electricity (a friend’s upg)

Ideas For Worship:

☀️Expanding your worldview

☀️Inspiration and creativity

☀️Connecting with the divine feminine

☀️Renewing your youthful spirit, as She does every winter solstice

☀️Fueling your inner strength and resilience

☀️Anything that needs passion, creativity, and/or vital energy

Ideas For Offerings:

☀️Water

☀️Fire

☀️Oil

☀️Honey

☀️Dates

☀️Figs

☀️Bread

☀️Milk

☀️”Scipy” scents (Cinnamon, ginger, frankincense)

☀️Relevant Imagery

☀️A Labrys

Divination:

I have found her to be open to tarot and pendulum; however, tarot wasn’t a favorite. Fire-based divination is a great fit. According to others I talk to, apparently any divination which involves reflection, reflection of the sun, is good to Her. White stones also seem to be a favorite for Her in the sense of geomancy/lithomancy or just as cult objects. One of the tarot cards I have come to associate with Her is the Page of Wands. I personally have a mirror dedicated to her from which I have received messages.

Devotional Poem

Fire of heaven,

Sun-mother,

Shine your radiance upon me.

As your power moves my spirit,

So your brilliance fills my heart

And warms me to my core.

Help me to stay seated in

The strength and passion

That is your gift to us

And to remember that

Your light shines within me, always.

- Laura Perry

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

Sources:

https://witchesandpagans.com/pagan-paths-blogs/the-minoan-path/the-minoan-sun-goddess-hail-therasia.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ethnochoreology

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minoan_eruption

https://www.livescience.com/4846-eruption-thera-changed-world.html

[zhuzhudushu]

Hello! I'm 18 years old and I want to learn Chinese! And if I'm correct, you're already learning it and are pretty good at it. So, do you have some tips for someone who wants to have some basis when they'll go to university? Thanks in advance and sorry for my English, it's not my mother tongue

Lol ok for one, I wouldn't have known English wasn't your first language if you hadn't told me 😂 And assuming you are starting at level 0 here – meaning no knowledge of Chinese whatsoever – I would definitely recommend this video on tones by Yoyo Chinese, and this entire playlist by Yoyo Chinese on pinyin and pronunciation. What I did (which, hindsight is 20/20, and I wouldn't necessarily do it this way again) is I did all these videos I linked above on Yoyo's Youtube channel, and then started doing Duolingo from there. What I would recommend is doing all the videos above, and maybe also re-doing/practicing Yoyo's tone pair videos until you feel pretty comfortable with pronunciation. I would then recommend doing apps similar to Duolingo (but not Duolingo because it sucks) like HelloChinese or ChineseSkill, which are similar in format to Duolingo but in my opinions are a little more functional and have better audio! Also if you are going to major in Chinese in college, I definitely wouldn't spend money on Yoyo (or any app) because you'll get all that information at school! But she does have awesome lessons on her website for a subscription. But really I think the most important thing is to find something that keeps you motivated. For me, that's Taiwanese Indie music haha. But for you it might be reading a book or manga, native speakers in your area, Chinese dramas, or something else. But whatever it is, hold on to it and build your Chinese around these motivations. It's totally okay if you learn random vocabulary for an ancient Chinese fantasy cdrama that are not functional in real life! But really this depends on what you're looking for. It sounds like you're going to major in it in college and just want a baseline so you're not going in blind – if that's true, I think Yoyo's explanation of tones and pinyin/pronunciation and then following up with an app like HelloChinese is sufficient!! This will get you saying basic functional phrases "Hello my name is" "nice to meet you" "I want coffee" etc. or even further if you want to. Depending on your native language, Chinese beginner level grammar is super easy to self-teach and is straightforward. And since you've learned English, Chinese grammar should seem way easier 😂

TL;DR: Do Yoyo Chinese's tone and pinyin lessons and follow up with a Chinese learning app of your choice. Really this is subjective and everyone will have different opinions on how to start. But this worked for me!

[itsbaku]

Every Single Thing in Souls of War with Meaning

Because I'm insane and this is basically a love letter to everyone who wants to learn more about my lore

(Quick thank you to @git-it for being so invested in my lore to the point where it makes me motivated to work on this stuff. Thank you man, I don't know why you love it so much, but it means a lot 💗💗💗)

Btw this has a ton of spoilers for the books, but let's be honest here. This is free lore and if you wanna know about the Souls of War franchise, read this.

First the characters(Who mainly represent aspects of being a teenager)-

Baku- Represents mental illness and issues with mentality. They are shown to struggle with themself and deals with a lot of trauma.

Camazotz- Represents being optimistic and always seeing the good in life. Managing how to live life even though it is filled with bad, and still accepting those bads.

Mischief- Represents the refusal or fear of growing up and maturing. He is an adult in SoW:EoG but still acts like his normal child-like self with a sprinkle of teenager.

Muerto- Represents body issues, disability, or anything relating to hating or disliking your own body. He can be interpreted in many ways, but I intended him on being hating your body because of puberty. He feels as if he is no longer himself because he lost something that made him him, and is now someone else. But he is up for more interpretation, like hating your disability due to your new self or hating your body because you are trans. Interpret him how you will.

Talon- Represents imaginary friends in youth and growing up. He was created to be a friend to a lonely soul, like how kids make imaginary friends when they simply want friends. He is shown to always say what The Supreme God wants to hear, which is what we do with our imaginary friends since they are our creations and do what we want. However, he is told that he should leave to live with Baku. This is because as we grow up, we tend to want or just leave things behind as we grow.

The Supreme God- Represents...well, a lot. The Supreme God can be very versatile with interpretation. They can be seen as a being that is selfish and is forced to learn how to be human, they can be seen as a soul forced into a position they could never properly learn of, there's a lot. But here's my original pitch...a creator. The Supreme God represents someone who feels unappreciated after basically creating everything. They eventually try to gift someone who helped them, but doesn't understand why they refused their gift. Basically someone who wants to feel appreciated but is confused when people don't want their appreciation, if that makes sense. Maybe, idk.

Anyways, if you had different interpretations of the characters, let me know! I love hearing y'all's thoughts on my content!

Now, non-character things. Some of this might sound like trivia but most of it is important, so apologies if it all feels quick.

Souls of War-

Camazotz and most Aztec Gods speak Spanish on occasion. Now, why is this important? Well, the Aztecs and most ancient civilizations had their native tongue erased by the Europeans. Because of this, the Aztec Gods struggled to continue to preach and speak. They had to speak Spanish to still work with their worshippers. However they speak English for a majority of the book because of the obvious, but also to be comprehensive. They also say a lot of swear words in Spanish lol.

I made many cultural references in the first book. My favorite being La Catrina. La Catrina is a symbol in Mexican culture of being usually represented as a singer made of bones. She is very beautiful and drawn a lot with beautiful clothing and markings on her skull.

I'm pretty sure I made a 13 heavens reference in it. Anyways, The Thirteen Heavens is a set of heavens in Aztec mythology where the gods reside in a level type of structure. I kinda made more of a "For gods sake!" type of thing because y'know, it works.

Camazotz dies in the end. For a long of reasons, but mainly as a backstory that turned into a main story.

Souls of War: Eyes of Chaos-

The prologue starts with summarized backstory of Baku. That's pretty good. We get an idea of how sick someone can get of second chances.

Camazotz has a birb girlfriend, which you can exclusively learn from my Tumblr and Twitter.

We get more with Camazotz, which is good because we always need more with the og bat.

Also in this book we get perspective chapters, because I know we need to know how these two feel about each other.

Baku is a rather fickle character in this book, but there's good reason for it. Baku is so tired of just letting things happen, feeling like they can barely do anything to change anything. So, they change. Baku becomes rather malicious and cruel in this book. Baku finally shows their true colors, which is good because they finally get to start confronting their issues.

Baku eats some conchas. This is more just because I love conchas and I wanted to make a "Baku doesn't know what certain things are" joke. They make a comment on how they thought conchas were shells(conches 🐚).

So idk how relevant this is, but Baku first attacks Camazotz in the face first. Baku prefers to attack the face, mostly the eyes. Why? Because Baku believes that no one else can see the truth, so they are unworthy of their own eyes.

Baku also thinks a lot, a lot more than they speak at times. Souls of War Harbingers of Magic has the record of how much Baku has spoken.

So even though Camazotz and Baku do reconcile in the end, they still have a somewhat rocky relationship. They have a "I don't hate you, I wouldn't say love, but I'd die, kill, and spare for you" type of thing I guess.

Camazotz heavily idolizes Baku in a way. She thinks of them a lot, and usually does in casual and kind ways. I think it's nice.

Souls of War: Harbingers of Magic-

Ok we get Muerto's backstory right in the prologue. I need everyone to know...that Muerto basically hates himself. Look man, when you lose the most important thing to yourself, and feel forced to take on a new identity, and then forced to soon deal with trauma, I think you'd hate your life a little.

So Mischief gets a spotlight here a little, because he is a important character. In a way, he is a redeemer. His purpose is to help those who kinda had hardships in life.

Anyways the whole thing of them being Harbingers of Magic is glossed over rather quickly. But it's important because of the next book.

So Muerto actually manages to confront a hidden issue he had. In the book, he wanted to sacrifice himself to kill Soulix, the antagonist. However, Mischief did not want him to, hoping that Camazotz and Baku would kill Soulix. When Muerto accidentally hurts Mischief, instead of proceeding with his actions, he stops and acknowledges what he did. Because he did what he promised to never do. He wanted to stop problems, instead of confronting them. But in the end, he learned how to try and handle a problem.

Muerto also learns to accept how he looks. Sure, that might clash with his character, but it's for good reason. He realized that if his friends were willing to do so much for him, that he never wanted them to care about...why did he need to change? Why must he do something that they never take notice of? They didn't care that he didn't have wings, they loved him for who he was. He decided that he wasn't going to "fix" himself, but embrace who he is now.

Baku and Camazotz have a small argument over alcohol. This is mainly to show they still sorta just talk over anything, even if it is pure nonsense.

Souls of War: End of Godhood-

The title is extremely misleading but it works in the end.

So The Supreme God is the main antagonist, with Talon being their partner in crime. But Talon gets his redemption earlier than they do.

So Talon is a character...a character most like me. You'd expect me to say that about The Supreme God, but no. Talon is by far the most character. He learns how to be himself, how to live without orders, and how to see others as equals. But, before that, we can see someone who can act a type of normal. He acts the normal has always been trained to act. Of course, he can act normal, as he is capable of being friendly. But he is usually trained to obey orders until it is resting time. Anyways getting off track but he is a very interesting character.

We get to see some fun God interaction, until it ain't fun anymore. We learn that again, gods can be unreasonable stupid and do the bad things. Yes, I am very fond of the ideas of gods not being very godly.

Camazotz gets some bonding time with the boys, and Muerto is so intolerant of her at times. He only really accepts childishness from Mischief, not a god.

So Talon gets adopted into the family, and he has an extremely hard time trying to adjust. But he is very grateful to be invited to be somewhere to live. Plus he can still see The Supreme God, so win win.

So to answer a question, Talon was never designed to be a weapon. He was a companion, but due to The Supreme God's curiosity, they gave him power and trained him to be a certain way. Talon doesn't know what he wants, he doesn't even really know who he is either. He is more of a occasionally used shank.

In the beginning of SoW EoG, there's a lot of flower talk. The flowers have meaning actually, but I can't remember each one right now. What I can remember is that Marigolds, lilac, and hydrangeas are all mentioned. Look up their meanings and maybe you can piece it together on why.

Ok so that's a bunch of stuff. Thanks for reading. I hope you somewhat enjoyed it? I love talking about the lore.

Til we meet again my friends.