#courier marigold

[yeah-mann]

Automatron Yes Man!!! (And Victor <3)

Writing, left to right, top to bottom:

Well, that’s creepy

Only… slightly better

Approaching “normal”

Still a little uncanny, but mostly indistinguishable (to Marigold’s disappointment)

‘Flirty comment about being bare’

Ignoring him

Studying Victor to see how his face works

One hand bigger than other

Face is rounder than I originally thought

More lore under cut!

I love the idea of synth yes man but I got to thinking about how robco would probably have a version of their own in a box somewhere:

So in my courier’s (Marigold) story she goes the Wild Card route, meaning sadly she has to take out Victor and Jane in order to put Yes Man in the mainframe. However, Yes Man finds the prototype automatron bodies for Victor and Jane, which have their own separate copies of their original coding, meaning they have none of the memories of their securitron counterparts. They’re still hostile upon activation and realizing Mr. House is no longer around, but are able to be reasoned with.

There’s no body for Yes Man so Marigold, who has 100 science, reverse-engineers the automatrons using Victor and Jane, with Yes Man’s help. Together they make more and more advanced versions until Yes Man can properly be co-ruler of the strip, and go under peoples’ noses as a robot for better diplomacy in the instances where a giant robot with a grenade launcher hinders more than helps.

[grifff17]

Audiodrama Sunday 7/7/24

Most of what I did this week was listen to Courier's Call. Next week I'll be up to date, then it's time for InCo.

I'm almost caught up with Skyjacks: Courier's Call. I don't want it to be over! It looks like the next season is coming soon though. Sleazus and Sleazy’s had me rolling. There was so much intrigue at the all Audron dinner, I was loving all the politics. Cici asking June and Kieran to prom was so cute! I loved all the very gnc prom outfits, Bobby Gene in the giant chickenbone dress is a wonderful image. Finally the snowball fight was incredible, I love that the cast mentioned Craig of the Creek, that show fits the vibes of Courier's Call so well.

@wanderersjournalpod I had 2 episodes to listen to. With all the Pluto drama with the creature, Marigold really buried the lead. She’s from really deep in her forest wow.

Dear Liisphyra this week was a fun mystery. I loved the musical accompaniment, and the "red heron" joke was great.

In the new Lost Terminal I had forgotten about Cassie, it’s nice to hear more from her. The ending was brutal though, it reminds me of AI chains from the book Kitty Cat Kill Sat. There are so many AIs in the show now, I love that this season only has AI characters in it.

@midnightburgr had a new Welcome to the Horizon! Wait until Frank and June hear about the Teds and earth tv, they're going to totally lose it. The comet is totally going to tie into the main show later in the season.

This episode of @worldgonewrongpod was too real. I absolutely adored the premise of this episode, it feels like the core of what this show is, real problems in a supernatural world. This was one of the funniest episodes yet, because of how realistic it was.

@worldsbeyondpod really was a completely different tone for every PC. Ursulon’s scenes were horrifying, Ame's were cute, and Suvi's was amazing! Vandal was wonderful, and Aabria’s dice curse is broken! Suvi essentially pratfalling against an incredibly dangerous witch and it working perfectly was incredible. I'm loving the way the wizards are treated in this story arc.

Spout lore couldn't have been more different from Worlds Beyond Number. I love both these show, for very different reasons. The "coming up with seven plans while walking to their objective then following none of them" was so real, every TTRPG group I've ever been in has done this at one point.

[lsotp]

Chapter 7 and 8

Hi-! This batch is mostly comprised of theories. And it's a long one, so take as much time as you need!

A word of warning. Some of the theories are so out of context that it ACTUALLY makes sense. In a way.

1.) What is Mars', Jupiter', and Trocar's history post-LSOTP?

What happened to their mother in particular?

(I have a theory on Question 6.)

I have a feeling that perhaps Mars, Jupiter, and their father were victims of the Seige of Coronet.

A theory of mine. Though, perhaps there were other areas in Calcian Territory that were also victims of the 'enemy'.

Since you said that Old Sentry was the first that had fallen, I had assumed more would follow.

2.) He wanted to drive home the only reason he signed the contract was so Papyrus could finally live the life he deserved.

Where did they live before they were drafted?

Did the love interests live in a township together or are they spread out into various areas of Calcian Territory?

3.) Quick question.

Is Fonston and St. Calibri seperate townships or is Fonston simply a town in the Municipality of St. Calibri?

4.) ”And who and where is your wife?”

”Dusted quite some time ago. Her name was Lilith Marigold.”

Her eyes widened and her demeanor seemed to change.

”My apologies. Your wife was a hero amongst heroes.”

This was a scene in Chapter 6. One that's been nagging at the back of my mind during my absence.

With what Mrs. Courier just stated. It means that the Institute realized and acknowledged that Lilith was a part of the military, and is considered a hero amongst heroes.

Surely other hens might be inspired to do the same as what Lilith had done if Mrs. Courier acknowledges this.

Also, I have a feeling that THIS is connected to the Gasters and the favor Cobalt owed. The implications of this one interaction is uncanny.

To reveal a hen in the military comprised of multiple sires (what a scandal-!) And somehow not get as much backlash (aside from the thing with Goudy and him reporting Lilith to the Institute) from the Institute...

I can only theorize that the Gasters MIGHT have lessened the blow. Perhaps with their rank, they managed to influenced a decision that is less detrimental to Lilith.

Instead of having been killed or mated with a stranger, they instead gave chose to give her to Cobalt....?

Only you can confirm.

5.) Ayo. I feel bad for Bubblegum.

Talk about brainwashing. Also, what's with this supposed 'scorring'?

"I bet I could get a perfect score with a trial whelp!” - Bubblegum

6.) I swear, if I didn't know any better (and I don't aside from the canon statements where magic in LSOTP is shit), I'd say Madame is Jupiter' and Mars' mother and Trocar's late hen.

I have things to back this claim, I swear-!

7.) 👀 I have my eyes on Madame as the head of the Institute.

Judging by the way she acts and the way she brandishes whelps as her own...

I'd say she most likely went from Mrs. Adiline Courier's case worker to Head (or at least a Board Member) of the Institute.

8.) 'The Elevator' proves my hypothesis that yes, the Institute DOES strap hens onto a gurney to be repeated raped.

9.) Ethel and Adiline are lesbians.

Change my mind.

10.) 'DAUPHIN'

*New area acquired*

The residents of this third-world country are Calcians.... Riiiiiight....? 👀

11.) ”She isn’t shit to me! She’ll never replace her! She ain’t good enough-“ - Sans

Don't mind me. I'm just brain storming ideas as to who his late lover was.

Definitely not me trying to make some sort of plot. Nope.

Nope I'm good.

That's all for Chapter 7 and 8. I hope I didn't drain your brain juice with my incessant questioning.

Bye! Take care! (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

A lot of this I actually can’t elaborate on. So I’ll go through what I can.

(3) St. Calibri is a big city. It’s about ~50 miles away from Fonston. In between the towns, farm fields stretch for miles. They’re the nearest towns to eachother.

(4) Lilith was registered as missing by her father which lead to a through investigation by the institute. It was found out a lot too late about the abuse the golden gals went through. The institute praised her for being smart enough to leave and still carrying out her hen duties while enlisted. (She got pregnant with Jett and that’s why they settled on base in Old Centry.) They used her image as a cover girl for how a good hen should be.

(5) Its exactly like a score on a test. They grade the girls based on how fast and efficient they are with those sort of tasks. (Though really if they aren’t perfect, it’s not good enough. ‘Perfect things do not have dust on them, ladies!’ So they use fear tactics to drill everything home.

(6) I do feel comfortable debunking this. This isn’t the case here.

(7) Madame is a powerful woman.

(8) The institute is a horrid place. Honestly death would be better than that place for men and women alike.

(9) They are. Yes. Adiline’s feelings for Ethel outshine and cast a dark shadow on anything she could feel for Mr. Courier. It’s her pent up emotions and anger that causes her to lash out and be cruel to him. It’s not right at all, but to say she hates him is an understatement. In her opinion the best thing he ever gave her was her children that she never got to keep.

(10) I can’t say on this one.

(11) His past hen is most certainly a sore spot for him. Though I can’t say anything more on that. We’ll get some context soon.

[loracarol]

The list of TGE characters, gods and places from the glossary, for fic reading/writing/etc.

This list contains some spoilers.

Aäno: maid at Edonomee; daughter of Kevo

Adremaza: the master of the Athmaz’are

Aisava, Csevet: a courier; Later Edrehasivar VII’s secretary

Aizheveth: Witness for the Wisdom of Choharo; scholar of the second rank

Akhalarna: a god

Alcethmeret: the emperor’s residence within the Untheileneise Court

Alchenada: a noble house

Alchenin: a noblewoman

Amalo: a city in Thu-Athamar

Anmura: god of the sun and god of war

Anmur’theileian: a fortress built by the elves in the Evressai Steppes; called Memory of Death and Carrion-Bones by the Nazhmorhathveras

Anvernel: a country across the Chadevan Sea

Ashedro: a city in Thu-Athamar; seat of a university

Ashevezhko: the Barizheise goddess of the sea

Athmaz’are: the institution of the mazei of the Ethuveraz

Athamara: a river of the Ethuveraz; meets the Istandaärtha at Cairado

Atterezh, Clemis: the emperor’s Master of Wardrobe

Aveio: a town in Thu-Evresar

Avris: one of the emperor’s edocharei

Bakhoree: a manor belonging to the Drazhada in Thu-Cethor

Barizhan: the Ethuveraz’s southern neighbor; the land of goblins

Barizhin: the languague of Barizhan

Bazhavada: a noble house

Bazhevar, Dalera: nephew of the Count Bazhevel

Bazhevel: a count of Thu-Tetar; father of Stano Bazhevin

Bazhevin, Stano: fiancée of Ciris Drazhar; daughter of the Count Bazhevel

Belmaliven IV (dec.): Belmaliven Zhas, the 123rd Emperor of the Elflands; brother of Belmaliven V; father of Belvesena XI and Belmaliven VI

Belmaliven V (dec.): Belmaliven Zhas, the 124th Emperor of the Elflands; brother of Belmaliven IV

Belmaliven VI (dec.): Belmaliven Zhas, the 126th Emperor of the Elflands; son of Belmaliven IV; brother of Belvesena XI

Beltanthiar III (dec.): Beltanthiar Zhas, the 113th Emperor of the Elflands; defended by Hanevis Athmaza from Orava the Usurper

Beltanthiar V (dec.): Beltanthiar Zhas, the 121st Emperor of the Elflands; a child emperor who did not live to see adulthood

Belthelema IX (dec.): Belthelema Zhas, the 88th Emperor of the Elflands; husband of Valestho Drazharan

Belu: a soldier of the Hezhethora

Belvesena XI (dec.): Belvesena Zhas, the 125th Emperor of the Elflands; son of Belmaliven IV; brother of Belmaliven VI

Berenada: a noble house

Berenar, Eiru: the Witness for the Treasury; later Lord Chancellor; husband of Anzhevo Berenaran

Berenaran, Anzhevo: wife of Eiru Berenar

Benevolence of Marigolds: a Barizheise steamship

Beshelar, Deret: First Nohecharis to Edrehasivar VII

Bralchenar, Evrenis: an airship worker; a follower of Curnar

Bromada: a noble house

Bromar: the Witness for Foreigners

Bucarezh: a comic novelist

Cairado: a city in Thu-Athamar

Cala Athmaza: First Nohecharis to Edrehasivar VII

Calestho: a town in Thu-Evresar

Cambeshada: a noble house

Cambeshin, Dinan: a playmate of Ino Drazhin

Carcethlened, Amu: a Barizheise poet

Celehada: a noble house

Celehar, Thara: a Witness for the Dead; kinsman to Csoru Drazharan

Celehel: a count of Thu-Cethor; father of Csoru Drazharan

Celvaz: a country bordering the Ethuveraz

Ceredada: a noble house

Ceredel: a marquess of Thu-Cethor

Ceredin, Csethiro: great-niece of Arbelan Drazharan; daughter of the Marquess Ceredel

Cetho: the city surrounding the Untheleneise Court

Cethora: a river of the Ethuveraz; meets the Istandaärtha at Zhaö

Cetho Workers League: an organization of the working class people of Cetho

Ceth’ulimeire: the ulimeire of Cetho

Cethoree: a manor belonging to the Drazhada; Arbelan Drazharan was relegated here by Varenechibel IV

Chadevan Sea: the ocean of Barizhan’s southern coast

Chavada: a noble house

Chavar, Nurevis: son of Uleris Chavar

Chavar, Uleris: Lord Chancellor of the Ethuveraz

Chavel: a viscount of Thu-Athamar; brother of Uleris Chavar

Chevarimai: a god whose cult was suppressed

Choharo: a city in Thu-Istandaär

Cloud Horses, the: a bar in Amalo

Clunethada: the principal house of Thu-Athamar

Clunethar, Orchenis: Prince of Thu-Athamar; husband of Uleviän Clunetharan

Clunetharan, Ebreneän (dec.): sister of Varenechibel IV

Clunetharan, Uleviän: daughter of the Duke Tethimel; wife of Orchenis Clunethar, Prince of Thu-Athamar

Convent of the Lighthouse-Keepers: a convent for votaries of Ashevezhkho in Urvekh’

Corat’ Arhos: Cruelty of Water; the sea serpent

Corat’ Dav Arhos: the palace of the Great Avar of Barizhan

Corazhas: advisers to the emperor; the Corazhas is composed of seven Witnesses: the Witness for the Judiciate, the Witness for the Prelacy, the Witness for the Universities, the Witness for the Treasury, the Witness for the Athmaz’are, the Witness for Foreigners, and the Witness for Parliament

Csaivo: goddess of rivers, water, birth, and healing

Csedo: a town in Thu-Istandaär

Csovar, Tanet: the Witness for the Emperor

Cstheio Caireizhasan: goddess of the stars, of wisdom, and of magic

Curnar (dec.): a philosopher; executed in the reign of Varevesena

Dachen Mura: the Greater Jewels of the emperor

Daiano: a town in Thu-Cethor, north of Ezho; noted for its mineral springs

Dalar, Evru (dec.): husband of Oseian Dalaran; lover of Thara Celehar

Dalaran, Oseian (dec.): wife of Evru Dalar

Danivada: a noble house

Danivaran, Aro: a noblewoman

Danivin, Thiriän: Aro Danivaran’s daughter

Dazhis Athmaza: Second Nohecharis to Edrehasivar VII

Deshehar: the Witness for the Parliament

Dorashada: a noble house of Thu-Cethor

Drazhada: the ruling house of the Ethuveraz

Drazhar, Cora: page boy in Csoru Drazharan’s household; Maia Drazhar’s third cousin

Drazhar, Ciris (dec.): second son of Varenechibel IV and Pazhiro Drazharan (third son of the emperor); fiancé of Stano Bazhevin; killed in the crash of the Wisdom of Choharo

Drazhar, Ermezhis (dec.): an archduke of the Drazhada; an invalid

Drazhar, Idra: Prince of the Untheileneise Court; son of Nemolis Drazhar and Sheveän Drazharan; brother of Ino Drazhar and Mireän Drazhar

Drazhar, Maia: only child of Chenelo Drazharan and Varenechibel IV (fourth son of the emperor); relegated by his father first to Isvaroë (with Chenelo Drazharan) and then to Edonomee (with Setheris Nelar); see also Edrehasivar VII

Drazhar, Nazhira (dec.): elder son of Varenechibel IV and Pazhiro Drazharan (second son of the emperor); killed in the crash of the Wisdom of Choharo

Drazhar, Nemera (dec.): see Varenechibel IV

Drazhar, Nemolis (dec.): Prince of the Untheileneise Court; son of Varenechibel IV and Leshan Drazharan; husband of Sheveän Drazharan; father of Idra Drazhar, Mireän Drazhar, Ino Drazhar; killed in the crash of the Wisdom of Choharo

Drazharan, Arbelan: first wife of Varenechibel IV; put aside for barrenness and relegated to Cethoree

Drazharan, Chenelo (dec.): second legitimate daughter of Maru Sevraseched, the Great Avar of Barizhan; fourth wife of Varenechibel IV; mother of Maia Drazhar; relegated to Isvaroë by Varenechibel IV, where she died

Drazharan, Corivero (dec.): an empress; an opera, The Dream of the Empress Corivero, was written about her

Drazharan, Csoru: fifth wife of Varenechibel IV; kinswoman to Thara Celehar

Drazharan, Leshan (dec.): second wife of Varenechibel IV; mother of Nemolis Drazhar and Nemriän Imaran

Drazharan, Parmeno (dec.): an empress

Drazharan, Pazhiro (dec.): third wife of Varenechibel IV; mother of Nazhira Drazhar, Ciris Drazhar, and Vedero Drazhin; died in childbirth

Drazharan, Valestho: the empress of Belthelema IX

Drazharan, Sheveän: Princess of the Untheileneise Court; wife of Nemolis Drazhar; mother of Idra Drazhar, Mireän Drazhin, and Ino Drazhin

Drazhin, Ino: younger daughter of Nemolis Drazhar and Sheveän Drazharan; sister of Idra Drazhar and Mireän Drazhar

Drazhin, Mireän: elder daughter of Nemolis Drazhar and Sheveän Drazharan; sister of Idra Drazhar and Ino Drazhar

Drazhin, Vedero: daughter of Varenechibel IV and Pazhiro Drazharan

Duchenada: a noble house

Duchenel: a count of Thu-Cethor

Duchenin, Loran: second daughter of the Count Duchenel; niece of Uleris Chavar

Ebremis: master chef of the Alcethmeret

Echana: a lieutenant of the Untheileneise Guard

Edonara: the marshes of western Thu-Evresar

Edonomee: a manor belonging to the Drazhada; Maia Drazhar and Setheris Nelar were relegated here by Varenechibel IV

Edrehasivar VI (dec.): Edrehasivar Zhas, the 182nd Emperor of the Elflands

Edrehasivar VII: Edrehasivar Zhas, the 209th Emperor of the Elflands; see also Maia Drazhar

Edretanthiar III (dec.): Edretanthiar Zhas, the 172nd Emperor of the Elflands

Edrethelema III (dec.): Edrethelema Zhas, the 185th Emperor of the Elflands; the architect of the current Untheileneise Court

Edrethelema IV (dec.): Edrethelema Zhas, the 186th Emperor of the Elflands; son of Edrethelema III; builder of the Untheileneise Court

Edrethelema V (dec.): Edrethelema Zhas, the 187th Emperor of the Elflands; son of Edrethelema IV; builder of the Untheileneise Court; had Lisethu Pevennin put to death

Edrethelema VI (dec.): Edrethelema Zhas, the 188th Emperor of the Elflands; son of Edrethelema V; builder of the Untheileneise Court

Edrethelema VIII (dec.): Edrethelema Zhas, the 192nd Emperor of the Elflands; a child emperor who did not live to see adulthood

Edrevechelar XIV (dec.): Edrevechelar Zhas, the 201st Emperor of the Elflands; great-great-great-great-great-granduncle of Maia Drazhar

Edrevechelar XVI (dec.): Edrevechelar Zhas, the 203rd Emperor of the Elflands; father of Varenechibel I

Edrevenivar (dec.): Edrevenivar Zhas, the 157th Emperor of the Elflands; known as Edrevenivar the Conqueror; united the eastern and western Ethuveraz

Erimada: a noble house

Esaran, Echelo: steward of the Alcethmeret

Esha: one of the emperor’s edocharei

Eshoravee: a manor belonging to the Tethimada

Esret: a Barizheise page boy in the service of Vorzhis Gormened

Estelveriär: a country bordering the Ethuveraz

Esthoramire: the prison of the Untheileneise Court

Ethuveraz: the Elflands

Ethuverazhid Mura: the crown of the Elflands

Ethuverazhid Zhas: the Emperor of the Elflands

Ethuverazhin: the language of the Elflands

Evresartha: a river of the Ethuveraz; meets the Istandaärtha at Ezho

Evressai Steppes: home of the Nazhmorhathveras

Ezho: a city in Thu-Cethor; founded in the gold rush of Varenechibel III’s reign

Glorious Dragon: the ship of Shaleän Sevraseched

Gormened, Nadaro: wife of Vorzhis Gormened; cousin of Chenelo Drazharan

Gormened, Vorzhis: Barizheise ambassador to the Untheileneise Court; husband of Nadaro Gormened

Habrobar: a maker of signets

Halezh: a master of the Clocksmiths’ Guild

Halezho, Avro: a member of the Clocksmiths’ Guild; sister of Nedaö Vechin

Hanevis Athmaza (dec.): nohecharis of Beltanthiar III

Haru: servant at Edonomee

Hezhethora: the traditional guards of the Great Avar of Barizhan

Honor of Csedo: an airship

Ilinveriär: a country bordering the Ethuveraz

Imada: a noble house

Imaran, Nemriän: daughter of Varenechibel IV and Leshan Drazharan; wife of the Marquess Imel

Imel: a marquess of Thu-Athamar; husband of Nemriän Imaran

Inver: a soldier of the Hezhethora

Isheian: servant in the Alcethmeret

Ishilar: a corporal of the Untheileneise Guard

Istandaärtha: the principal river of the Ethuveraz

Isthanada: a minor house

Isthanar: the Witness for the Universities

Isvaroë: a manor belonging to the Drazhada; Chenelo Drazharan and Maia Drazhar were relegated here by Varenechibel IV

Kevo: cook at Edonomee; mother of Aäno

Khel-Avezher: self-styled king of the Chadevan pirates

Khever: a groom in the Untheileneise Court

Kiru Athmaza: Second Nohecharo of Edrehasivar VII; replacement for Dazhis Athmaza; a cleric of Csaivo

Lanthevada: a noble house

Lanthevel: a marquess of Thu-Athamar; Presider of the House of Blood; uncle of Iviro Lanthevin

Lanthevin, Iviro: niece of the Marquess Lanthevel

Leilis Athmaza: tutor of Idra Drazhar

Lohaiso: a city of Thu-Evresar

Loyalty of Lohaiso: an airship

Mazan’theileian: the hall of the Athmaz’are in the Untheileneise Court

Michen Mura: the Lesser Jewels of the emperor

Michen’theileian: the emperor’s audience hall

Mich’othasmeire: the Temple of All Gods in the Untheileneise’meire

Narchanezhen, Atho: an airship worker; a follower of Curnar

Nazhmorhathveras: the People of the Night Sky, the inhabitants of the Evressai Steppes; at war with the Ethuveraz

Nazhcreis Dein: a witch of the Nazhmorhathveras; albino

Nelada: a minor house

Nelar, Setheris: relegated to Edonomee with Maia Drazhar by Varenechibel IV

Nelaran, Hesero: wife of Setheris Nelar

Nelozho: a town in Thu-Cethor

Nemer: one of the emperor’s edocharei

Neraiis: a servant in the household of Csoru Drazharan

Nethen Ford: a ford of the Tetara

Nethenada: a noble house

Nethenel, Pazhis: a count of Thu-Tetar

Nevennamire: the prison beneath the Untheileneise Court

Olchevada: a noble house

Omdar: a comic novelist

Orava: known as the Usurper; the only magic-user ever to attempt the throne of the Ethuveraz

Orimada: a noble house

Orimar: the Courier General

Ormevada: a noble house

Orshan: goddess of crops and farmers

Orthema, Verer: Captain of the Untheileneise Guard; husband of Reneian Orthemo

Orthemo, Reneian: wife of Captain Verer Orthema

Orseva: a senior canon of the Untheileneise’meire

Oshet: a Barizheise gardener in the Alcethmeret

Osreian: goddess of the earth, of earthquakes and disaster, of artists and makers

Ozhis: a novice of the Athmaz’are

Parliament: the Parliament of the Ethuveraz comprises two houses, the House of Blood and the House of Commons

Pashavada: a noble house

Pashavar: the Witness for the Judiciate; husband of Ailano Pashavaran

Pashavar, Corvis: a young nobleman

Pashavaran, Ailano: wife of Lord Pashavar

Pashavel: a duke of Thu-Cethor

Pelar: Witness for the Wisdom of Choharo; scholar of the second rank

Pelchara: servant at Edonomee

Perenched, Ursu: natural daughter of Maru Sevraseched; a sea captain’s wife

Pevennada: an extinct noble house

Pevennin, Lisethu (dec.): a lady of the last house to lead a rebellion against the Drazhada

Polchina, Evet: a master of the Clocksmiths’ Guild

Porcharn: a country bordering the Ethuveraz

Puzhvarno: a city in Thu-Athamar, near Eshoravee

Radiance of Cairado: an airship

Reshema: a courier

Rohethada: a noble house

Rohethar, Idra: father of Sheveän Drazharan

Rohetharan, Zharo: mother of Sheveän Drazharan

Rosharis: the head groom of the Untheileneise Court

Salezheio: goddess of wind, winter, couriers, and storytellers

Sehalis Athmaza: Adremaza of the Athmaz’are

Selthevis: the secretary of Maru Sevraseched

Sevesar: Witness for the Wisdom of Choharo; scholar of the second rank

Sevezho: a town in Thu-Istandaär

Sevraseched, Holitho: a natural daughter of Maru Sevraseched; a votary in Urvekh’

Sevraseched, Maru: the Great Avar of Barizhan; father of Shaleän Sevraseched, Thever Sevraseched, Ursu Perenched, Holitho Sevraseched, Chenelo Drazharan, and Nadeian Vizhenka

Sevraseched, Shaleän: a natural daughter of Maru Sevraseched; a sea captain; her ship is the Glorious Dragon and her home port Solunee-over-the-Water, where she has a wife

Sevraseched, Thever: elder legitimate daughter of Maru Sevraseched

Shulihada: a noble house

Shulivar, Aina: an airship worker; a follower of Curnar

Solichel: a count of Thu-Tetar

Solunee-over-the-Water: a port across the Chadevan Sea

Sonevet Athmaza: the Witness for the Athmaz’are

Sorchev Zhas (dec.): a ruler of Csedo before the unification of the Ethuveraz

Stone Tree, the: a teahouse in Amalo

Strength of Rosiro: an airship

Talar: a Drazhadeise armsman

Tativada: a noble house

Tativin, Aizheän: a friend of Vedero Drazhin

Teia: a Barizheise page boy in the service of Vorzhis Gormened

Telimezh: Second Nohecharis to Edrehasivar VII

Tetara: a river of the Ethuveraz; meets the Istandaärtha near the border with Barizhan

Tethimada: a ducal house of Thu-Athamar

Tethimar, Eshevis: son of the Duke Tethimel

Tethimar, Teru: the Archprelate of Cetho

Tethimel: a duke of Thu-Athamar; one of the wealthiest landowners of the Ethuveraz

Tethimin, Paru: daughter of the Duke Tethimel

Thorchelezhen: a junior canon of the Untheileneise’meire

Thu-Athamar: a principality of the Ethuveraz

Thu-Cethor: a principality of the Ethuveraz

Thu-Evresar: a principality of the Ethuveraz

Thu-Istandaär: a principality of the Ethuveraz

Thu-Tetar: a principality of the Ethuveraz

Ubezhada: a noble house

Ubezhar, Odris: a friend of Eshevis Tethimar

Ubezharan, Hesero: wife of Odris Ubezhar

Ulis: the god of death and the moon

Ulzhavada: a noble house

Ulzhavel (dec.): a viscount of Thu-Cethor; committed suicide after being banished by Varenechibel IV

Untheileian: the hall of the Ethuverazhid Zhas, the emperor; the center of the Untheileneise Court

Untheileneise Court: the palace of the Emperors of the Ethuveraz; also houses the Judiciate, the Parliament, the Corazhas, the Mazan’theileian of the Athmaz’are, and the Archprelacy of Cetho

Untheileneise Guard: the guards of the Untheileneise Court; mostly, but not entirely, ceremonial

Untheileneise’meire: the othasmeire of the Untheileneise Court

Upazhera: a tributary of the Cethora

Urvekh’: a town in Barizhan, on the coast

Usharsu Athmaza (dec.): Adremaza of the Athmaz’are in the reign of Edretanthiar III

Ushenar: a doctor in the Untheileneise Court

Uvezho: a town in Thu-Cethor

Valno: a town in Thu-Evresar; where Akhalarana fell to earth

Varenechibel I (dec.): Varenechibel Zhas, the 204th Emperor of the Elflands; son of Edrevechelar XVI

Varenechibel II (dec.): Varenechibel Zhas, the 205th Emperor of the Elflands; son of Varenechibel I

Varenechibel III (dec.): Varenechibel Zhas, the 206th Emperor of the Elflands; son of Varenechibel II

Varenechibel IV (dec.): Varenechibel Zhas, the 208th Emperor of the Elflands; son of Varevesena; husband, in sequence, of Arbelan Drazharan, Leshan Drazharan, Pazhiro Drazharan, Chenelo Drazharan, Csoru Drazharan; father of Nemolis Drazhar, Nemriän Imaran, Nazhira Drazhar, Ciris Drazhar, Vedero Drazhin, Maia Drazhar; killed in the crash of the Wisdom of Choharo

Varevesena (dec.): Varevesena Zhas, the 207th Emperor of the Elflands; son of Varenechibel III; father of Varenechibel IV, Ebreneän Clunetharan

Vechin, Nedaö: an operatic soprano from Zhaö

Velvet: a horse

Veremnet: a game preserve in Thu-Cethor

Versheleen: islands in the Chadevan Sea

Verven’theileian: the Hall of Consultation, the meeting room of the Corazhas

Veschada: a noble house of Thu-Athamar

Veschar, Ciret: a friend of Eshevis Tethimar

Virenada: a noble house

Vizhenka: a captain of the Hezhethora; husband of Nadeian Vizhenka

Vizhenka, Nadeian: daughter of Maru Sevraseched; wife of Captain Vizhenka

Volsharezh: a “captain” in the Courier General’s office

Vorenzhessar: a town in Thu-Cethor, north and west of Ezho; birthplace of Reneian Orthemo

Wisdom Bridge: the bridge over the Istandaärtha

Wisdom of Choharo: an airship

Zhaö: a city in Thu-Athamar

Zhavanin, Suler: nursery maid of Mireän Drazhin and Ino Drazhin

Zherinada: a noble house of Thu-Tetar

Zhidelka: a Barizheise silk merchant and former pirate

[papakhan]

im writing a chance x m!courier fic and I thought you'd find this funny: since chance doesn't really speak, the courier calls him nicknames since he doesn't know his name until they meet up with the other khans. one of the nicknames is marigold, which im pretty sure is chance and jessup's mom in your canon 😂

ngl im gonna need to scroll through your blog for a couple hours to get caught up in the Khan family tree in your lore

HEY THAT'S REALLY CUTE,,, yes that is his mom's name in my canon tho LMAO

also my lore has gone through a soft reboot recently (earlier this year) so the info on my blog might be mega confusing :') I should just draw up some family trees at some point tho fr

and 👉👈 hey when you finsh that chance/courier fic shoot it my way I would like to see and hold it <3 <3

[redrock-reloaded]

Jessup

“If I’m the only Khan here, I’m dying with him.”

Basic

Name: Jessup Summers

Aliases: Jesse

Age: 30

Sexuality: Gay

Bio

A teenager when the Khans ruled Vegas, Jessup has grown up with the Mojave and the Khans’ faltering power. A raider initially. He has adjusted, same as everyone, to each new hurdle. Though Bitter Springs was a stumble for them all. After the death of their mother, Jessup became the carer of his elder brother, Chance.

After seeing chems destroy his brother’s life, Jessup had personal disapproval for the Khan’s hand in the local drug trade. Instead, he took to mercenary work. This new job? Helping some bigwig in Vegas find some courier? It just might be too good to be true.

Personality

Loyal. Impetuous. Defiant.

Though many take Jessup’s blank stares and dogged attitude for a lack of intelligence, Jessup is actually a lot sharper than he looks. Always quick to escalate  to violence Jessup makes for a fiery friend– but a friend for life. Jessup has a strong and unshakable moral compass which will one day be his undoing. He is deeply caring, but easy to rile up

Appearance

Jessup is a tall and lanky man, with pale freckled skin dusted with light ginger hair, he stands at around 6’1”, though he is usually stooped over. His hair is a bright orange fan atop his head with a scruffy goatee around his lips. Under a near-constant furrowed brow are a pair of chestnut brown eyes surrounded by pale eyelashes.

Family

Mother = Marigold Summers

Brother = Chance

Tag: The Gun for Hire (Jessup)

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Forging Ties - Chapter 30 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Slone and Yore went inside and Skye took hold of Nim's hand as Nim led him around the side of the cabin.

"You saw the chickens and that cat I promised you," Nim said. "I've had a lot of cats over the years, but she's a good one. You'll like her."

"You really built a cabin in the woods?" Skye asked. "For us?"

"For us," Nim confirmed. "I looked for you for a long time but you were nowhere to be found. I understand why now. Eventually I decided to just settle down and wait. To hand things over to fate. It took a while but I'd say it worked."

"Yeah," Skye said, squeezing Nim's big hand in his.

"Anyway, I've got fruit trees back here," Nim said, sweeping his arm out to indicate rows of small trees planted behind the cabin. "Originally I was going to just have enough to feed the two of us but I quickly realised that you can't live comfortably in a cute little cabin and be entirely self sufficient. You need something to trade for clothes, tools, nails, whatever. There was that one time I traded my sperm and that paid well and has paid dividends in the form of that man in the kitchen cooking us breakfast right now but mostly I just grow all this fruit and trade it for other things."

"You're all grown up, with a cabin and a fruit trader job," Skye said as he swung Nim's arm. "I have a job too, you know. I'm a courier."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm really good at it."

Nim hesitated.

"Does that mean you'll need to travel? I'm not going to tell you not to but fuck, that makes me nervous."

"Well, my boss is probably going to go back on the ship to the other side of the mountains and I'm not going to leave you, so..."

Skye shrugged.

"It's fine. I'm not going anywhere ever."

"You can if you want to, Skye. If you want to go places, do things..."

"I will do some things but I think that I'm not a very ambitious person. I want to live a quiet life in a cabin in the woods with my boyfriend and our cat. Maybe I'll have friends as well and do some other stuff sometimes but I don't think I want to go on a ship again. Do you have dreams and ambitions?"

"I just want you, Skye," Nim said, his voice sounding slightly strained. "I've only ever wanted you."

"Being me is what I do best."

Skye hugged Nim's arm against his chest.

"I missed you. I know I went away for a long time and then I didn't even remember but it was because I couldn't deal with losing you. I missed you even when I didn't remember who you were."

"We're not going to be apart anymore. Do you want to see inside?"

Skye nodded.

Inside the cabin, Yore was stoking a fire in a wood fire stove while Slone lay sprawled out on a wool rug in the middle of the room.

It wasn't a very large space but Skye preferred that.

It was cosy.

Nim led the way up a wooden ladder, through a trapdoor to a room above.

It was the bedroom.

The bed was big enough for two and a hammock hung in front of a large window that overlooked the orchard behind the cabin.

"You remembered everything I said, didn't you?" asked Skye.

"About the things I wanted?"

"We didn't have as long together as I would have liked and you've never been that chatty. I think I remember damn near everything you've ever said to me. I wrote everything down early on when I started to realise finding you wouldn't be as easy as I'd hoped. I didn't want memories to become memories of memories of memories."

Skye sat down on the edge of the bed.

It was surprisingly comfortable.

"What happened, Nim? With your mum, with Marigold and the kids. With everything. What happened after I left?"

Nim sat down next to Skye, close enough that their thighs touched.

"Well, by the time I caught up with Marigold and the kids, they'd already joined up with the other group and Noel and his monster friend had moved on. Turns out I'd been gone for about a week. My mum was there and, to my surprise, so was my dad. He'd ended up in the same prison as my mum. He told me that as he'd gotten older, he'd started to regret not being in my life more and more. So... I had that. My parents. That was good."

"Good. You deserve it."

"In an ideal world, everyone would have it but..."

Nim shrugged.

"Anyway, after that we had our ups and downs. There was still a war going on, after all. We tried to keep track of things by listening to the radio but all I really know was that things were getting pretty bad in a global way and then they got very bad here for a while, at which point radios stopped being very useful and then eventually borders were created and the humans were so beaten down that they stopped being so aggressive and then the war was over and we could start really building our own communities. Naturally, I became a recluse."

"Naturally."

"People grew old around me and eventually they died. My parents, Marigold, everyone."

"Oh," Skye said. "That's sad."

"It is sad," Nim said. "When Marigold was getting close to passing, that's what she said to me. Death is almost always sad but not every death is a tragedy. To live a long and fulfilling life and then die old and surrounded by loved ones is the happiest ending most of us can ever hope for. She was a wise woman."

"I wish I could have seen her again."

"She said to tell you that she was sorry the two of you never got the chance to reconnect," Nim said. "She always believed me when I said I knew you were still alive. Everyone else, well... it got worse with time. Yore's a good boy, though. A good man, now. He's never tried to tell me what to do."

Yore's head poked up through the trap door and he held out a plate of fried eggs.

"It would be arrogant to think I know better than someone as old as you are about his own life."

"Enjoy," Yore said as disappeared back through the trapdoor.

"Werewolf society's really gone off the rails," Nim said as he started cutting up the eggs.

"We have, like... royalty now. That boy's basically a werewolf prince. Wouldn't know it from how humble he is, but it's a whole thing. If you're going to have that kind of leadership, you couldn't do better than Yore and I like his grandma who is the current leader well enough. If you ask me, though, we've become too much of our own insular group. At some point, it started being about more than just having that community so that we could be together. It started being about keeping others out. I don't agree with that."

"Hmm, yes, I also don't agree with that because I am not a werewolf."

Skye accepted the fork Nim offered him and used it to stab a piece of egg and deliver it into his mouth.

"Your chickens make good snacks."

"Fresh from the hen."

Skye patted Nim's prickly cheek and then cupped it with his hand.

"I'm so glad you're not dead."

Nim turned his head to press a kiss against the palm of Skye's hand.

"And I'm glad you're finally home."

[theforestspiritplaysironvalley]

Spring 5

Dear Everest,

The daisies finished growing today! I picked most of them, there’s a couple left for show. I gave some to Iris as a gift, and traded some for more seeds - tulips, for growing now, and marigolds for summer. They turned out beautiful, I’ll have to press one to send with next week’s packet! I’ve started the tulip seeds, and I have some extra pots set up so I can keep growing more. Everything’s coming together wonderfully.

It’s hard to believe that it’s the end of the week! I really hope you’re doing alright, even though I’m not home. You are doing okay, right? Remembering to eat, and to keep your reagents cabinet clean, and to let the familiars out. I know, you’re the adult, but I do worry about you.

It’s getting late. I should probably close this up and make up the packet to bring to the courier tomorrow. Hopefully these find you well!

- Argent

[midori-laboratories]

Frozen Ashes: Chapter 2 - Sanguine Standard II

Book 3 of The Calendula Chronicles.

Story synopsis: Albert Wesker molded his captive into the perfect, pliable bait for taking out Rockfort Island's paramilitary facility, and cracking open the Ashford family’s secrets. But who’s really in control, once chaos breaks out?

The stakes have never been higher for Marigold, but she may not be fast enough to save everyone.

Book 3 of the Calendula Chronicles series. Written as the other side of The Antarctica Incident.

Chapter summary: Wesker checks in on Marigold the night before Rockfort, and considers the last few weeks of preparing her for this point. NSFW.

The encampment - an old base, long abandoned, officially - came with two dormitory barracks buildings, but the men preferred mostly to lodge themselves in town. Marigold had been placed alone in the second one. Wesker had considered placing her in a small hotel just outside the site, but even that posed too great a risk to outsiders at this juncture.

A courier from town came twice a day with food, and the company of mercenaries itself was well-versed in managing a localized canteen for themselves while in the field. He walked the path between the makeshift command office and that second barracks building, aware of the eyes on him.

Perhaps it was in anticipation of combat, or in response to the hormone dosage, but elevating her viral state meant that Marigold was always hungry, in every sense of the word. Any leftovers from catering began to be diverted toward her barracks, and disappeared mere hours later.

She hadn’t technically left the building, although the men had spotted her on the roof a few times, observing the training and other activity on the ground. Marigold watched people like a hungry cat watched birds, whether she realized it or not. In any case, it made the men nervous of her, instinctively moving out of reach whenever they had to pass her. That was better for his nerves, if not his ability to focus.

She’d also been craving contact more in the last few weeks, unconsciously turning and clinging to him in her sleep in spite of her waking coolness, which had been wavering under the Chilean summer heat.

Thankfully, there were more banal ways to keep Marigold occupied while he finalized preparations for the days ahead. Miss Wong had taken it upon herself to set up a biweekly movie night in the employee lounge and found that Marigold had a taste for action and crime films from the eighties. She’d been set up with those for the last few days.

Wesker found her asleep in a chair in front of one of these, having long ended and gone to static. He shed his clothes at the door, making his way over and switching off the television as he passed. The room fell into comfortable darkness.

Marigold stirred when he lifted her from the chair, shifting in his arms to take in his scent. Her mannerisms were far more feline than human in this barely waking state. Over the last few weeks, that animal side of her had grown stronger, bolder, in that liminal place.

The patch he had placed on her shoulder that morning would require replacing soon. Marigold reached up to touch the scarring on his chest as sleep slowly fell away.

A month ago, Wesker would have moved her hand away from that place. The scarring was a reminder of his failure, even if it was also proof of the moment of metamorphosis. Marigold had finally caught on and fixed him with a mild look of amusement. “It’s so funny what falls out of fashion,” she had laughed. “There were entire societies back when I was in school centered around getting a good scar to show bravery. Why do you think all those old men had blades hung in their offices?” She had smiled at the memory, and he had stopped moving her hand away when it would stray there.

Her eyes fluttered open when he set her down in the bed, pulling him down to her mouth. He went easily. The link had gone beyond a communicative tool to something where he could ride the tide of her desire in this state, feel her sink into pleasurable delirium as if he were chasing his own. It was something that had clicked into place only a few weeks prior.

When he first took Marigold into his bed about three months earlier, there had been a certain cynicism to the act. He had felt a particular vindictive pleasure in thoroughly claiming the trophy Lord Spencer had mandated be locked away upon discovering her condition. The virus itself had all but taken the woman by the scruff of her neck and deposited her into his lap.

And…there she’d stayed. He’d required Herculean discipline to stay focused on the mission at hand, but even then, she would serve as a tailor-made distraction at the right moment.

Annette Birkin had been the one to run the tests in 1982 when Spencer had requested to know of her fecundity - whether the virus had restored her ability to reproduce. An old illness had been documented to have left irreparable internal scarring, rendering her sterile as a young woman. But that scarring had been relatively fresh when the infection had happened.

A positive response would have led to tissue harvesting…or something even more invasive. Annette had disappeared to run the examination. Several techs were suddenly reassigned to other areas of the lab on the day the work was performed. Her response had been a flat, resounding ‘no’, and a hard glare when anyone had asked to look for themselves.

Spencer had accepted the report, and the woman had been relegated to research storage for seventeen years, decanted only for occasional maintenance under strict guard. Annette had seemed thoroughly disgusted by the entire affair, and relieved when it was declared over. Annette’s medical ethics had been far less flexible back in those days before the T-virus work had really taken off.

Frankly, ironically, Marigold's old medication was calibrated to behave much more like oral birth control than anything else. It had been the baseline for the patches he now applied twice daily, except now they amplified her drives to a constant state of readiness. While all of that information allowed him a certain degree of latitude in how he used her, there was a growing sense that this disconnected new world would easily separate and swallow her up, now severed from the ties that had once held her in check.

The hormones she was on also had the unexpected side benefit of amplifying her sensitivity. There was an odd softness that had begun to permeate her body. A hand wandered to her breast, palming and squeezing the soft flesh. They had grown fuller in the last week, since he had increased the dosage.

There had been a heady shift in her scent over the last few days. That morning he had driven himself into a frenzy when he had buried his face between her legs in the shower, replacing the patch from the previous evening.

Wesker now pulled aware from her mouth, settling on his back in the middle of the bed. He held himself up in one elbow, the other hand working his stiffening cock to prominence. Marigold bit her lip, watching him, as she often did when these bouts of shy uncertainty hit. This is a change of pace, she sent at him, her cheeks reddening. In this state, words failed her more often than not; but that was rarely a problem these days, now was it?

It’s been a long day, and we’re finally in the dark. Let me watch you, he responded. I know you worry about hurting someone like this. Don’t. You know quite well by now that you won’t break me.

In the dark, he could swear the reflective sheen of Marigolds’ eyes brightened in sharp lust, and he felt as much wash over him through the bond. A few months ago, saying something like that would have been in warning, rather than in invitation. He reached for her arm, guiding her to straddle him while he lined up his cock, pressing at her waist for her to sink down over him.

The tension she constantly carried through to a consistent tightness in her body. He squeezed her hips in encouragement, and she contracted hard around him in response, eliciting a hard groan. It caught her attention - Wesker had rarely let her drive in their time together - and a thoughtful look flashed across her face before she moved, thrusting against him with purpose.

There had always been a sense of inhuman stillness to her, a focus that pierced and perceived more than a normal human ever could. This focus was on him, entirely, driving towards a steady building feedback loop of cresting waves and heat.

“Good girl,” he breathed out through gritted teeth, letting his hands wander up across her body. She leaned down to let him tangle his fingers in her hair, eyes hooded and never leaving his face. When he tightened his grip, her lips parted with a small, breathy sound.

Still trying to hold herself tightly together, even now.

A switch flipped in Wesker, and he reached under her knees to sit up, catching her in mid-thrust with a surprised sound before rolling the both of them so he now lay on top. Her long legs hooked over his arms so that she lay on full display for him. Hands locked at her hips, he took up a brutal pace. Wesker now knew that the force he used was enough to break bones, but Marigold only shuddered and gripped his forearms with equal deadly strength as she gave herself over to the wave overtaking them both.

Tomorrow’s mission would risk this; that much was obvious. If all went well, both Ashfords, both her and her nephew, would be caught off-guard. He’d seen how easily lead she was in her anger, and Alfred’s temper was already manifesting itself on Rockfort in a similar manner. Bringing her into the field could potentially break Alfred Ashford’s will to fight altogether.

Nonetheless, tonight would likely be the last time for a while Marigold allowed him near her, before her drives overtook her once more, to push her back to him. The state that made her so devastating on the field also made her highly suggestible to the right party. Leaving her at the HCF compound was out of the question, as was leaving her here, in reach of scavenging parties. Keeping her in this particular state, with her hormones artificially elevated, and actively maintaining their connection would keep her from lucidity until they arrived on Rockfort Island.

And to insure against that, he had one more measure to deploy, both to keep her under control, and to ensure Umbrella wouldn’t be able to get their hands on her once more.

Marigold made a small sound when Wesker pulled out of her, spent, and lay beside her to catch his breath. She stayed where she was. The hazy feeling that she got when Wesker came to her had bled into her days and nights. Her skin sang out with every air current, every piece of cloth that touched her skin.

She had enough experience pushing through this feeling, focusing on getting to a quiet place to take her medication and ride it out, back in the old days. But that was hardly the point of this exercise.

For now, all Marigold could do was remain in the moment, and wait. She had spent the last few days as if underwater, barely tethered to rational thought. Wesker was taking precautions against her likely rebellion once they arrived. The tacky feeling of adhesive on her shoulder, where the patches had been surreptitiously placed, spoke to as much.

The patches wrought hell on her ability to focus, but they masked her secret. If the test she had taken, and subsequently buried was any indication, she was somewhere between six to eight weeks pregnant. In the short window she had taken to speak with Annette Fletcher - no, Birkin - the woman had told her in a dull voice that she’d falsified tests that the higher-ups had requested to confirm whether or not the virus had restored her reproductive capacity.

It had. Marigold had kept that secret buried deeper than most of the others. but Annette had clearly been disgusted with how the whole episode had been playing out, at a time when ‘human trials’ were unheard of for researchers at her particular level. Marigold had been placed into cold storage afterward with very little fuss, and likely saved her a great deal of trauma.

Neither Annette’s husband nor Wesker had known of the falsehood. Why should they? Placidia would be left in place well beyond the time they would be gone from that lab. Who would know?

That information had led to Marigold rationing a small cache of stolen medication meant to dampen her heats, and delay the inevitable. She’d run out in early November, and sure enough, fallen pregnant almost immediately. Once she’d truly succumbed to the heats, it had only been a matter of time.

It was evident that, on some animal level, he was already becoming aware that her body was changing. She could see it in the way Wesker reacted to her scent now, the way her body was just barely beginning to soften. The hormones had been enough for him to explain away these symptoms, but they wouldn’t be for long. Another week or two, and something would have given her away.

She couldn’t afford that. Wesker and a nervous executive called Mark Oliver had mentioned that they were heading to South America - but to Argentina, to hit the ship George Bailey used to traffic research materials out of Africa.

It had been a good story. It had also been bullshit. Marigold had heard the executive’s heart speed up in nervous anticipation at the lie. Even if she hadn’t, this was not Argentina.

Argentina would have been a fool’s errand and a false lead anyhow, given how Bailey is in the wind. And Bailey was in the wind because she had sent him that way. The fact that Wesker thought she would believe that told her that he’d never worked out the true extent of the little ‘network’ she had built up once; only the very few she had targeted maliciously.

George Bailey was in the wind, as were several high-ranking directors, and Albert Wesker was none the wiser as to why.

Wesker had asked her just enough, early on, to set her on edge. A little nudge when meeting ‘Alan Green’ had confirmed that their true target was the paramilitary base. That meant that the target was her nephew, the ‘sole’ surviving Ashford as far as the world knew.

The day Kate’s involvement had been exposed, just a few months earlier, Marigold had forfeited the medication keeping her heats at bay in exchange for testing her elevated abilities to sense out who in her network was still even alive. After Raccoon CIty, she couldn’t risk asking to be put on them once more, fearing what else might be introduced blind into her system. It was an imprecise thing, but in the moments before Albert Wesker had caught her out, she had sensed something far south - something with a strange, strong infection, connected to her. Two tiny pinpricks of life in a deep, dark cold.

The children were alive - all of them, even Harman’s boy, as she’d found out later. Grown, alive, and each touched or twisted by the horrors Umbrella had wrought while she slept.

Alfred had dearly loved his little war games as a child. From overhearing various soldiers in her addled state, ‘he’ had carved out quite a little niche in Spencer’s empire using that knowledge.

She didn’t deny to herself that she’d grown…comfortable in the past few months. That tense quid pro quo dynamic that had kept her from asking questions had gone away around the time they had moved to the compound. Last week, while watching a film, she had finally asked him if the virus would have killed him had he not let the Tyrant do it instead. She had been curled up at one end, while Wesker had coopted the middle and coaxed her legs across his lap. When she asked questions there was the implicit reciprocation of information, as Wesker has learned.

Wesker had contemplated the question. “No,” he had said finally. “What I took was designed to work best with a shock of that magnitude, the activate it quickly. When metabolism is suppressed, the virus can bind without having to fight the body. It’s risky if the binding is imperfect. That’s why the original virus never worked.” He had glanced at her, with a hint of a wry smile. “Allegedly, anyhow.”

“So if it’s slowed down and suppressed…”

“It would still take a long time. You said you felt stronger now than…before.” Always the careful skirting of his role in that. “ If there were suppression at the very beginning…”

“I wasn’t conscious then, if that’s what you’re asking. It happened right before I went to bed. There was a fever,” she offered. Then she paused. “And about three quiet years after. Before I needed to take anything.”

“What triggered the change?” A hand had caressed her knee, passed down a calf, and up again. Without the connection, she might not have been able to tell - his ability to mask his expression was on par with her own - but the virus had made him more sensitive to all kinds of stimuli - light, most obviously, and his hearing was almost as good as hers now; but touch was something he was reacquainting himself with to a similar degree she was. Those little bits of teasing contact back in the remote lab had not entirely been a means to get her off balance.

That wasn’t in your notes? She had teased.

You made it quite obvious my notes were barely adequate, he shot back. He’d been in a good enough humour, from the accompanying squeeze to her ankle.

“Uncle Spencer decided I’d served my purpose and sent me off to die.” She had said in a flat voice. “You get to classify your poisoners when you have as many as I did by dosage and intent. The amount of hemlock that one used made it clear I wasn’t meant to walk away. The next few days were…difficult. You’ve seen what happened later. I’d never given into it before.”

Tomorrow would be more challenging than she’d been willing to admit. Wesker had been coming to her with increasing fervor, as if shoring up something that could weather the incoming storm.

But…she’d warned him to stay away from her family. And here he was, about to drag her headlong into the fray.

She knew Rockfort Island. Things would not go the way Wesker thought they would. It seemed that that particular message had failed to permeate.

For Wesker, this episode likely felt like a bump in the road, something to be managed and mitigated.

For Marigold, this felt like a breaking point, ready to be severed away.

Thoughts churning, she turned and let Wesker draw her to him as she drifted into sleep.

It felt like the last time.

~

Marigold woke hours later to an empty bed, the spot next to her still warm. She found a robe and wandered out to the balcony, where Wesker sat with a cigarette, watching the sunrise.

He turned his head slightly as she approached, letting her steal the cigarette from his hand to take a short drag (better not to inhale, but she wanted the taste of it) before passing it back. The cool morning air had a sweet floral smell to it.

Without a word, she knelt beside him to lean against his shoulder, watching the sunrise in that silent hour of peace. She’d take in all the moments like this she could before that fragile little clockwork world he’d constructed around her ran down and shattered.

[madamoizzelle]

Maeflowers

“Be careful going over there, they say she on that hoodoo shit.” Growing up, Miss Mae was my sweet next-door neighbor. In her golden girl years (as she would put it) and living alone, she was nestled in a quaint single-story home near the end of the road. I remembered how she would tend to her garden as if it was her day job. Every day, I’d come home from school, and she would be in her front yard, on her hands and knees, digging and planting new plants. Petunias, marigolds, cosmos, morning glories -- her garden was filled with so much vibrancy, you’d think it was Holi. And with the dirt sticking to her flowerily blouse and gardener green pants, and the water specs that painted her thick wired framed glasses, you can tell it was a labor of love.

Even though she was alone, she never felt lonely. Sometimes she would invite me over for lemonade and ginger snaps and tell me about her late wife, Bernadette. How they’d used to travel the world in search of a place they could call home. They’ve been to Cuba, Nigeria, Haiti, and Brazil- just to name a few. They almost had a home in Arizona, but “Bernie couldn’t stand the heat”. Mae described her as an intuitive, timid woman that loved dolls.

“Oh, how Bernie loved her Raggedy Ann’s- every Halloween, you could guarantee she would dress in that sky blue gingham with the white apron and long striped socks. She had red dreadlocks that would stack on her shoulders, even had to pin some of it under that bonnet. But it was always so cute on her.”

Miss Mae seemed to have been the easygoing partner in their marriage- never one to turn down an adventure. With all their extravagant trips, I always wondered how she could afford the lifestyle. She told me once that she “ran a courier service for antique artifacts”, stating it was a “niche but lucrative business”.

When she passed, her wake was packed. Strangers from Russia, Cuba, Germany, South Africa, and even New Zealand came. Just a group of strangers in all-black uniforms conversing amongst one another in front of her ashes. Mutters of trades were being made and constant questions about where the Peruvian teacups and “jester jugs” were asked. Suddenly, at 3 o’clock, on the dot, a loud crash is heard outside her home. Everyone files out of the home to investigate, finding shards of porcelain sprinkled in the front yard. Someone gasps and shouts “Look!”. Out in the road appears a small brigade of what appears to be Raggedy Ann’s, one holding an urn with the name “Bernadette Jones” etched into its surface. As they walk into Miss Mae’s old home, hunching over to fit into the doorway, the service followed. The atmosphere was filled with pure confusion and complete silence. As the dolls place the urn on the kitchen table, one rips its arm off, placing it next to Mae’s urn. Suddenly, it begins to stretch and unravel, yarn and thread circling the two urns and tying into itself. The dolls pick up both urns by the cloth and exit the home.

Everyone is dumbfounded. You could hear a pin drop. Then, someone finally broke the silence, saying (with a thick Latin accent) “… well… Mae always said Bernie was going to come back for her.”

[fantasmalforces]

TAG DUMP PT. 7

[autistic-beshelar]

gods in the goblin emperor, or, hyperfixation on fictional gods go brr

Hello and welcome to a list of every god mentioned in The Goblin Emperor, a note on every piece of information I could find about them, and some of my own theories. This does not include anything from Witness for the Dead, as I haven’t read it. 

Every introduction to a god is from the list at the end of the book.

Akhalarna: a god (domain unknown)

- "We remember a divine of Akhalarna appeared—a very old woman with the ritual scars. She was making a pilgrimage from her home to Valno, where Akhalarna fell to earth." - It is unclear if ritual scars only exist for this god, or if they are used for others as well. It is also unclear what a ‘divine’ entails.

Anmura: god of the sun and god of war 

- "[Maia describing the sunrise] the glory of Anmura rising from Osreian’s embrace". Anmura being the sun, and Osreian here being the earth. - The Captain of the Untheileneise Guard is a "Knight of Anmura" and wears a sun mask.  - Their devout are involved in funerals and wear 'deep marigold robes'.

Ashevezhko: the Barizheise goddess of the sea 

- Spelled also as "Ashevezhkho" within the text itself. - There is a Convent of Lighthouse-Keepers in Urvekh’ for votaries of Ashevezhkho. They maintain three lighthouses there.

Chevarimai: a god whose cult was suppressed. (domain unknown)

- Suppression led to emperors being non observant in public, possibly this is what led to less piety within the court in general.

Csaivo: goddess of rivers, water, birth, and healing 

- Clerics of Csaivo practice celibacy and work in charity hospitals, tending equally to men and women.

Cstheio Caireizhasan: goddess of the stars, of wisdom, and of magic 

- Described as "the dreaming lady of the stars" and "lady of falling stars". - "Cstheio Caireizhasan, hear me. Cstheio Caireizhasan, see me. Cstheio Caireizhasan, know me.” : a prayer, potentially Barizheise in origin. -  Gift of clear sight (whether she is believed to possess or offer this is unclear, but likely both). - A monastery in Thu-Cethor is dedicated to her, and the monks there take a vow of silence. - Appears to be one of the most popular gods, although it is possible that Maia simply notices her more, as he is her follower.

Orshan: goddess of crops and farmers

[not mentioned in text]

Osreian: goddess of the earth, of earthquakes and disaster, of artists and makers

- Has hymns dedicated to her; potentially Barizheise in origin. - The dawn seems significant to Osreian as well as to Anmura. - Mentioned by Csevet as potentially being a god who offered him a 'blessing' in the form of a staircase (though the staircase is likely not significant). - Appears to be a more popular god.

Salezheio: goddess of wind, winter, couriers, and storytellers

- Mentioned once by Csevet (see above).

Ulis: the god of death and the moon

- "Ulis was a cold god, a god of night and shadows and dust. His love was found in emptiness, his kindness in silence." - He is a god of letting go, and of dreams, death, and rebirth. - Iconography of Ulis depicts him with open hands (presumably, to represent letting go). - Priests of Ulis wear black robes and black veils. - Mazei canons of Ulis (specifically those involved with revethvoran) are described as having robes with black stripes, though it’s unconfirmed if this differs from the priests. - Priests of Ulis can be called upon to be a Witness for the Dead.  - Barizheise custom seems to involve superstition around Ulis, seemingly due to his being a god of death. - Several Barizheise prayers to Ulis exist; one of these is a meant for a sickbed. - Thara Celehar suggests that Ulis offers clarity to the dead. - Celehar also suggests that Ulis offers dreams to his followers - or at least to him. - An “ulishenathaän” is a token of a dead person.

additional notes:

- It is unclear if the gods worshipped by elves and goblins differ - at the least, Csetheio and Osreian are worshipped by goblins also, however Ashevezhko is specifically referred to as a Barizheise goddess, suggesting there are differences. It is likely every other god mentioned here is either an elven god, or both elven and goblin. It’s also likely that traditions and worship differs between cultures. 

- We only have Maia’s memories of Chenelo to go on here, as with most Barizheise customs, but her superstition around Ulis and her reluctance to teach Maia prayers to him suggests that goblins may not worship him (given that her general superstition and spiritual beliefs are framed as part of her culture, not a character trait)

- A revethvoran is always performed at moonset, and the proper time for funerals is sundown. This suggests that time of day is important at least to Ulis’ domain (which would make sense, being a god of death), if not to the other gods. Timing also seems vitally important for the coronation, and this might also be related to Ulis even if the connection is never mentioned - the passing of the crown from one emperor to the next is related to death, rebirth and transformation after all - but it could just as easily be tradition unrelated to religion.

- “Merciful goddesses” is a common phrase (much like ‘good lord’ or ‘oh my god’ in our world) but ‘merciful gods’ does not seem to be. In fact the only time ‘gods’ on their own seem to be invoked in a similar manner is by Beshelar, when he is stabbed and briefly drops formality to say “Oh, gods, sorry,” before correcting himself. Even thinking to himself, Maia only ever thinks “merciful goddesses,” and Setheris uses the phrase numerous times when speaking informally. Given that, it could be argued that invoking ‘gods’ in this manner is a regional thing. Yes i’m inserting my ‘Beshelar is a little country boy’ headcanon into this and you’re all welcome.

- On Winternight, Beshelar mutters about disrespect to the gods. I’m unclear if he’s talking about the musicians still tuning their instruments, or about the emperor not having arrived on time, but either way it seems to be about proper timing, suggesting once again that timing is important to gods.

- The Mich’othasmeire is the Chapel of All Gods within the palace and is ‘not much used’, the reasoning for this being that celebrations for gods are described as ‘too large for a single chapel’. This implies BIG celebrations. Csetheio and Osreian are the most worshipped in this chapel. Though I suspect the reason it is rarely used has more to do with the lack of religious people within the court than the size of the chapel.

- The Untheileneise’meire is meant to be a place of worship, however it seems to be treated primarily as a tomb.

- The Othasmeire of the Untheileneise Court has separate satellite shrines for each god. (A satellite shrine is usually described as a shrine away from the main shrine, suggesting that each god has its own main shrine.)

- The vigil chapel has seven gods Maia is familiar with (among those would be: Anmura, Csetheio, Csaivo, and Ulis, and three others I’m unsure of) and many he is not. Given there are only ten gods listed, this implies there are many more that were never mentioned in the text.

- Csevet states that it is ‘unfashionable’ to believe that gods (namely, Ulis) grant powers to a Witness for the Dead. This is contrary to Thara’s experience, who believes he is sent dreams from Ulis - and given those dreams led him to correct answers, it’s entirely possible that he’s correct. 

[eternalchant]

ummmm sketches i guess teehee. @nosramus‘s courier marigold and idk some like. guy that has something to do with dreams or something

[datasgirlfriend]

The A team OC’s Master list.

Name: Isabelle “Izzy” Jayne Walton.

Fic: The adventures of Izzy  Holding out for a hero. (Main Fic)

Love interest: H.M “Howling Mad” Murdock.

Face claim: Krysten Ritter.

Summary: Izzy has never quite fit in, coming from a small town in Arizonia on a horse ranch, She was the black sheep. She moved to L.A to study threatre and physcology, Now she works as at her Uncle’s record shop, which she also lives above. She met Murdock while visiting her brother in hospital and a friendship blossomed between the two. 

Name: Priscilla “Perci” Johana Charles.

Fic: Lovers past and present.

Love interest: Templeton “Faceman” Peck.

Face claim: Michelle Pfeiffer

Summary: Priscillia met Face when he was a fresh faced recruit in the army, her college was next to his base, Naturally, the two got together, they had a summer romance that ended abruptly when Face was shipped off to Vietnam. They cross paths again thirteen years later, so much has changed yet so much is the same. But there’s one huge elephant in the room: Priscillia’s daughter, Marigold.

Name: Tiffany Nancy Joesph.

Fic: Polaroids and typewriters.

Love interest: Amy Amanda Allen.

Face claim: Florence Pugh.

Summary: Tiffany is a freelance photographer, She’s traveled the world to create her art, She gets hired to do some photos for the L.A courier, it should be another job, take the snaps, get paid, Simple. But then she meets Amy Allen, Simple goes out the window.

Name: Marigold Eve Charles-Peck.

Fic: How I met my Father.

Love interest: N/A. (but does eventually marry a man named Issac Lamb)

Face claim: Natalia Dyer.

Summary: After turning sixteen, Marigold Charles sets off to L.A in search of her long lost Father, the man she finds isn’t who she expected and after some convincing, She spends her summer vacation learning his trade and building a relationship with the man who she has more in common with than she first thought.

Name: Phillipa Alison Marsh.

Fic: Older than we were.

Love interest: John “Hannibal” Smith.

Face claim: Carrie Fisher.

Summary: Phillipa has recently gotten divorced from her husband of 25 years, leaving her feeling out of place, her old routine is broken, When her son, George is being threatened by a loan shark, she calls the only people she knows can help, The A Team, She reunites with Hannibal, who she had a breif affair with when Hannibal was stationed on the same army base as her then husband, where she also worked as a nurse.

[toysoldiers-rwby]

Respite

13/23

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Author: Cyrrus Rating: Teen and Up Relationships: May Marigold/Winter Schnee Characters: May Marigold, Winter Schnee, Tags: Post Vol. 8, Canon Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Gay Thoughts Summary: Winter Schnee is a nuisance. A stuck up, a lit fuse, and a bootlicker, but most of all a reminder of what May could have become after graduating Atlas Academy. May's expressed her dislike for Winter often enough that it's become a running gag among her teammates, so naturally she'd be the one drafted to check on Winter during a rare slow moment amidst Vacuo's chaos. Words: 1,305

Winter Schnee is a nuisance. A stuck up, a lit fuse, and a bootlicker, but most of all a reminder of what May could have become after graduating Atlas Academy. May's expressed her dislike for Winter often enough that it's become a running gag among her teammates, so naturally she'd be the one drafted to check on Winter during a rare slow moment amidst Vacuo's chaos.

The hallway to Winter's quarters hasn’t seen silence since the day she moved in, and not just because of the stream of couriers bringing her the latest reports from refugee camps. She can sometimes be heard above the ruckus, stating orders but notably lacking the firm bark she was known for in Atlas. May almost pities her. Even without a military to throw herself into, Winter insists on placing duty before herself.

May raises her fist to knock but notices the door already cracked open. She gives it a small push and promptly winces at the sight awaiting inside. Not an inch of space escaped the storm of notes, maps, and inventory sheets. At the center of the paper whirlwind is Winter herself, face down on her desk over crossed arms.

"Report?" Winter says, muffled and not looking up at her visitor. She holds out one hand. For a split second May considers dropping her polearm into it for the reaction, but decides against getting kicked out before she's accomplished her mission. She lightly nudges Winter's hand closed.

"I take it magic powers don't help you clean."

Winter sits up with a barely suppressed groan. The brace on her back makes an audible creak. "What do you want, Marigold?"

May knows this is the part where she's supposed to make another quip. Something that prods but not enough that Winter resents it. Maybe even with a flirty undertone to be annoying. It’s the script they always followed when they crossed paths in Atlas, but seeing Winter like this, May hesitates. It's the first time she's seen Winter up close since arriving in Vacuo, and the image of the confident, headstrong woman she usually knows is a myth compared to the disheveled, dreary-eyed girl in front of her.

"Are you okay?" May asks and immediately scolds herself for it. It's too blunt. She's not supposed to care about Winter Schnee, not to mention she can see quite clearly that, no, Winter is not okay.

Winter regards her with a furrowed brow for a few seconds then looks around the room as if noticing the mess for the first time. "If you have something to report, say it. Another fight break out? Incoming sandstorm? Sightings of—"

"Take a break."

"Excuse you?"

May rolls her eyes and sits on the edge of Winter's desk, ignoring the glare she receives. "At the rate you're pushing yourself we're going to have a new Winter Maiden by the end of the week. You’re not even healed."

A pause. “Why are you here?”

“I’m checking on you.”

"Someone has to coordinate the refugees."

"That someone has to be you? You're not the only one with experience in that department."

When Winter responds, it's with a deliberate manner of speaking. May recognizes it; every Atlesian knows the Diplomatic But Disinterested Voice. "I am grateful for what you and the Huntresses and everyone else have done," she says, "but I'm not going to sit idly while Atlas's citizens are struggling to get by."

"That's nothing new for some of us. We’ll survive like we always have," May quips. Winter's gaze falls back to her desk. No retort about General Irondick having everyone's best interests in heart? May never thought the day would come, but then again she never thought a flying whale would invade Atlas either. Nor that Winter would ever come to her senses and join Mantle’s side.

May decides to cut her slack this once. The last thing she wants is to leave bearing news that she failed her 'get the former bootlicker to take a break' mission. She'd never hear the end of it. That's definitely why May wants to help. Not because a little part of her is concerned about Winter or anything.

"Come on. If you don't want to take a break for yourself, do it for everyone else. You're no help if you drop dead from exhaustion. The most productive thing you can do right now is take a damn nap."

Winter goes still, pen and paper still in hand, then a look May can't place flashes across her face. "It's too much," Winter says softly.

"Your work? Yeah, and it's not going to get better even if you keep pushing your—"

"Everything that happened." Winter keeps her eyes trained on her desk, pointedly avoiding May. "I need to keep busy, or else I'll start thinking too much."

Oh.

Figures. May remembers when Winter would pull this at Atlas Academy, burying every bad thought under the weight of her work. She hasn't changed at all. May opens her mouth to snark at her, but her words catch in her throat. No, May. Don't get soft. Not with the Ice Queen. Don't look at how small she looks and how wrong that seems.

Her resolve crumbles in seconds. On impulse, she places her hand on Winter's shoulder and squeezes gently. "You're not alone. No one here escaped unscathed. We've got each other's backs now. We have to. Okay, Win?"

"...Win?" Winter looks up at her, eyes widened with surprise. "You haven't called me that since we were classmates."

"We... haven't exactly had any heart to hearts since then." And were fighting on opposite sides of class war, but let's not unbury that hatchet while trying to get along. May swallows hard, finding herself staring into Winter’s cerulean eyes. She didn't realize how close they were until now. "Um. Anyways. I know it's a tough concept for you military types, but you've got others you can depend on now."

"Like you?" Winter says, and May swears she can see a hint of a smirk breaking through the fog.

She decides it's not worth wondering why that makes her heart skip for just a moment. "...Sure. Whatever. I'm here looking out for you, aren't I?"

Winter nods slowly, sitting up in her chair and finally setting her pen and paper down. A small, genuine smile makes its first appearance in what could very well be weeks. "Thank you, May."

"Don't mention it." May trails off, suddenly self conscious. Was it this awkward a moment ago? If Winter would just stop looking at her like that...

May clears her throat. "Hey, if you're worried about thinking too much, try to think about what you'll do when this is all behind us. Think you'll finally take a vacation?"

"I'm sure I'll find new work to dedicate myself to."

Eye roll. "Do something you actually enjoy for once. Find a better career."

"What could be better than being a demigoddess huntress?" Winter says dryly.

"Demigoddess trophy wife?" May says without a second thought, and immediately wishes she gave it a second thought. "I mean, has to be easier than this."

To her surprise, Winter laughs. It's brief and reserved, but a laugh nonetheless. May's breath catches.

...That's enough Winter Schnee for one day. Or one week. May hops off the table before she can say anything else she'll regret. "I better get going before Fiona sends Joanna to drag me back by the scruff of my neck. Remember to rest up, Schnee."

"I think I can find the time." Winter smiles.

"You better." May offers a quick smile in return before exiting, closing the door quietly behind her. She hurries down the hall as if she can outpace the flurry of thoughts going through her head. Winters's still a nuisance, May thinks. But she's tolerable. Just a little.

[justanotherfalloutauthor]

Sigils That Beckon Death

Character: Craig Boone [#2 of #52]

Series: Fallout New Vegas

Song Inspiration: Elysian Blaze - “Sigils That Beckon Death” [#355 of #3000]

Word Count: 867

TW: Canon-typical depictions of violence. Implications of suicide. Implied major character death.

"With blood running thick and third eye yearning,

I place my heart into the hands of fate."

To the two weary travellers, the gates of hell might have been more welcoming than the outpost of Cottonwood Cove; the heat from the harsh Mojave summer had collected in the sand and permeated the ruined buildings along its shore, but at night, the surrounding earth was as bitterly cold as the people in it. The Legion camp stretched for an eternity in front of Craig Boone and the Courier, and they silently nodded to each other before they slunk into the lion's den, under the waning cover of the fading night. Above, the last twinkling of stars were ebbing away, slowly being overtaken by the approaching dawn. Sunrise would come soon. A quiet seed of anxiety settled in the pit of Boone's stomach, and he swallowed thickly.

It was time to act.

It was the ferryman, Cursur Lucullus, who fell first. The victim of Boone's sniper rifle; only one bullet to the head and he crumpled to the ground, falling away from the group camped around the jetty.

Next was Canyon Runner, the slave master stationed by the dock. A less clean kill, this time. A handful of .308 calibre bullets from the Courier were enough to break through his armour, but only left him wounded. In the distance, Boone hissed as angry shouting welled through the valley and echoed over the river like an angry crescendo. Now the rest of the camp was alert to them.

"Down." He barked.

The two fell on their stomachs in the Mojave dust, obscured by the dead patches of foliage concealing them from the pier, the main group of Legionaries sitting a mere twenty metres from the barrels of their guns. The air was tumultuous and the Legion's cries were violent and heavy, pounding like a tidal wave against the swell of civil twilight. An odd clarity swept through the sniper as he observed the group screaming their battle-cries in front of them. The realisation struck him like a lightning bolt that this was what he was meant to do. Whatever happened to him in the aftermath wouldn't matter.

The anxiety in him ebbed away, and he once more lined his shot, peering down his sights.

To make it to the boat would guarantee a death sentence, and yet, here they were, picking off the Legionaries one by one, until none remained. A bloodbath lay at their feet, the scattered remains of the Legion patrols and their mongrels barely recognisable. In another time and another place, Boone might have felt pride in it; instead, he only grasped his rifle, reloaded, and took the lead, striding over the docks and onto the rickety boat that would take them into the belly of the beast. Like Charon on the ferry of the River Styx, it would surely take him to his death, but if this would be the journey that he would take to meet his end, he was ready to die.

"Ready?" He asked.

He received a curt nod.

Dawn approached with a fiery lustre across the clouds as the pair cut through the camp with equal ferocity. Bright marigold streaked the sky and a chill set in the wind like a warning, and as Boone found himself at the flap of Caesar's tent, he took a steady breath and looked at his hands, stained red with Legionary blood. Or was it his own? He couldn't tell. He didn't think he was bleeding, though he'd long since lost his beret to a stray bullet from the barrage at the entrance of the Fort.

No matter. He would look for it after the job was done.

Without another word, and without waiting for his companion, Boone entered the tent of the Legion's leader. The scratchy fabric was rough against the palms of his calloused hands and, as he made his way into the tent, the scent of gunpowder assaulted his senses.

In an instant, he could see what he had to do. His steady hands never betrayed him as he raised his rifle and, without hesitation, took the shot that he had been destined to take.

The world slowed to a crawl, like pebbles of sand trickling down a cracked and weathered hourglass. Dappled light curled around the flashing barrel of Boone's gun. The bullet arched through the air, cutting through the oppressive atmosphere and landing true into its target. Boone's breath hitched in his throat as he observed Caesar crumple on his brahmin-skin throne. The bullet had pierced his skull. Boone's last victim fell into the sand as one of Caesar's men lined a shot of their own straight at the intruder.

Pain burst into the back of Boone's head and he collapsed, rifle still in his hand as he fell to his knees and hissed an expletive. Red sparkles danced in his vision and, as he tried to catch his breath, he found that he was unable. Instead, he produced a pathetic gargle as another shot pierced his fleshy abdomen.

His vision was spotty. The world was growing dimmer. 

He did not hurt anymore.

He had crossed the River Styx. He had succeeded in what he had been destined for. It was his time, and he accepted it gratefully.