#drew reimes

[purposefully-lost]

There was only a bare sliver of pink peeking over the horizon by the time he was unlocking the front door. It took him a moment to do so; he'd found the key to his own home, first, then swore to himself as he remembered he needed his dad's. He swore again when he remembered that on colder mornings the door needed a slight shove to open up, and forced his way into the living room a little harder than he'd intended. There was a stumble to his step as he moved inside, though it was as equally from exhaustion as it was from anything he'd had to drink only hours before. He tried to close the door behind him a little more softly only to turn around and realize the damage had already been done.

A young woman, her dark hair in a frizzy halo around her head, peered sleepily at him from the couch. A blanket was pulled around her shoulders, and she gave him a surprised look before it softened into something more sympathetic. Charlie flashed a brief, awkward smile at her. "Hey," he greeted quietly.

"Hey," Jackie answered, sitting up a little more to look him over. Her voice was thick and tired and he wasn't quite sure if he'd actually woken her or not. Of everyone, he might've expected someone who'd barely known Chris to get the best sleep tonight, but maybe he'd assumed wrong. Maybe she'd stayed up, worried about Drew. Maybe she was the kind of person who just had trouble sleeping away from home. Maybe she'd only barely known Chris, but she'd liked him anyway. A lot of people had felt that way about him, from what he'd heard. Charlie lingered in place for a moment, feeling awkward, then finally decided to just head past her. She broke the quiet as he did. "Uh, I think... Drew had been trying to call you. Did you talk to him?"

Charlie paused to look back at her, then gave her a halfway shrug. "I don't think so. My phone's been off."

"Oh." He couldn't read the expression that passed over her face. Pity was what it felt like. "Well, I think he's upstairs. If you wanna see him."

He only hummed in response, giving her that smile one more time before he started for the stairs. He didn't really want to talk, but his own bedroom was up there, and he figured Drew would track him down anyway. He might as well get it over with. He didn't have to guess to know he was going to be found in Chris' old room.

He'd taken his bed with him when they'd moved out. And his desk, and the vast majority of the rest of the shit he'd been accumulating for the twenty four years before he'd left. There was only the shit stuffed into the closet and still stuck to the walls, all of it now laid out across the ground when Charlie eased open the door. He leaned against the doorframe and frowned when he found Drew sitting criss-cross on the ground, staring at the mess of forgotten clothing and old keepsakes around him. "The hell are you doin' in here?" He asked. Drew looked up sharply.

"Goin' through Chris' shit. What does it look like?" He asked. Charlie shrugged.

"Don't you think maybe dad'll wanna be the one who goes through it?"

"He still will. But I thought I'd.."

Drew trailed off and seemed to take in the mess that was around him. To just be what'd been left behind, abandoned in a closet, it sure looked like a lot of clutter. Charlie watched him deflate, then lean back on a palm, the weight of the past few days seeming to visibly settle on his shoulders. He'd taken up a lot of the organizing, in lieu of their dad being able to. Charlie didn't envy him for it. They watched each other for a moment, saliva gathering thick in Charlie's mouth and a twist taking to his stomach, but Drew finally broke the quiet. "I didn't see you at the funeral."

Charlie's frowned deepened. "I- I was there. For a minute."

"You could've stayed for the service. Said something."

"There were too many people."

"Isn't that a good thing? For a funeral?"

It'd been a real question, but Charlie couldn't help it if his lips twitched into a small smile. Tired, but genuine. He saw it reflected on Drew's face and shrugged again. "I dunno. Maybe. People liked Chris."

Drew hummed an agreement. It was true, they always had. It'd almost been like someone, at some time, had taken him and prepped him for the life he was going to live, for being a mechanic and a big brother and firstborn son. Being the world's best friend had been his strong suit. Being their brother was maybe the most important thing he'd ever done. Charlie supposed there were worse things to be remembered by. He reached up to push a lock of hair out of his face, giving it a small, impulsive tug as he did so. Then he crossed his arms in an attempt at keeping himself from doing it again. "So why are you and Jackie sleepin' downstairs?"

"Nana's staying the night. She's got my bed," Drew answered simply. "And Jasmine's got yours, since you weren't here last night."

"Jazz came?"

"She'll probably be leaving soon. ..You gonna stick around 'til then?"

Charlie hesitated, then nodded. He hadn't seen Jazz in years. Not since they'd been kids and their uncle had lived closer by. It was a hell of a drive or a flight one to get all the way out here, and saying hello didn't sound too bad. He shouldn't've been driving anyway. "Probably. Do you, uh.." He looked over at the shit that was spread around the room. Old books, an old gaming system, an old bookbag that'd been carried through a year or two of high school. Old photos and old albums. Not old, really, but they felt that way now that he was gone. "You want help with all this shit?"

Drew sighed, then nodded. "Yeah. Please."

Charlie gave him a tight smile. Then he pushed himself off the wall and stepped carefully over a haphazard pile of Magic cards that looked like they hadn't seen the light of day since Chris' senior year. He sat himself down next to Drew and looked out at the collection they had to work through. "So," he started, reaching out to pick up one of the cards and peer idly at the artwork on the front. "Where d'you wanna start?"

[quirkle2]

The tiles are no longer white, and the bathroom looks compressed and scintillated; hotspots of light blare in seething oranges, corners buzz in deep purples, noises manifest in confusing patterns that obscure other patterns. It hurts. The tiles aren’t white anymore. Nothing is quiet. The colors pour in. Shigeo is tired of color.

another scene from rainspeak ! suffered a bit with the colors but i don't ,, Hate this, so up it goes <3

[ghosts-b00]

Very late submissions for @phmonth.

I wanted to do more days, and actually draw Sharon and Reim, but I got ill again, therefore I’ve only done a few days.

Day 1: I wasn’t sure what to do here. I chose to draw the scene from Cheshire’s domain with the mirrors. It felt somewhat fitting.

Day 2: This one is simple. I drew him with sweets.

Day 3: I have drawn this scene before, but I thought it fit for sorrow.

Day 4: I’ve wanted to draw this scene for a while. This prompt gave me an opportunity to. I’m not super happy with how his face turned out here..

[reliaofdreams]

VALETERISA elevates Fissival to the height of the High Passes

See a copy of the PREEMINENT recreation of the dramatic happen'n for only Two (2) Silver Pieces CHEAP!

PAINT'D BY THE (IN)FAMOUS SELLME

You all saw it on the scry'n orb folks, once a mere TOIL'N, SECOND-CLASS 'CITIZEN' of Fissival, she unearth'd the city's CORRUPTION and SPECIESISM from its foundations to its top by LIFT'N THE CITY hundreds of feet. Neverbefore since the age DRAGONS ruled us could the most addled mortal mind have imagin'd such an upturn of a WALL'D CITY, nor as much an upset of the social order. No matter their PITIFUL PROTESTATIONS of Drake supremacy, Fissival has already and will continue to make Southern Izril a LAUGH'N STOCK of LIMITLESS SCALE for backwards prejudice against Humans and Gnolls and the poor of either kind or even DRAKES, for that matter. From the glitter'n shores of Calanfer to the beat'n heart of Reim, nations both lavish and impoverish'd, [Ruler] and ruled, recognise the COURAGE display'd by THE PEOPLE'S ARCHMAGE. Regardless that she achiev'd a lofty status as land'd nobility, and owns a mansion where elsewhere the [Villagers] and [Peasants] and [Peons]-many yet LANGUISH without homes nor food nor water clean, this day we ought look up-on Valeterisa Imarris with PRIDE as she SOARS where only dragons dare'd.

(A/N: Soooo hiii! ^_^ Remembered a cool and good artwork which we saw in class a while back and I thought: ehhh I reckon that'd look just as well if I drew Valeterisa from 9.15VM in The Wandering Inn for it, and y'know what, thats what I did the next week or so! Hope y'all enjoy, or else I'll be mildly sad for awhile or something equally banal! D:< Also before y'all mention it, YES I did forget in my haste that she has blue accents near the roots of her hair, I'M SORRY I noticed halfway thru typing this so now we BOTH have the deal with knowing this information, muhaahahahahaha! >:D and before any of y’all Sellme stans out there yell “he wouldnt make a broadsheet promoting a literal Wistram-educated elite with like a bajillion gold coins” I for one could very much see our resident madboy sadboy painter lad using Val to further his goal of Drakeland Revolution since, to use yet another pun, her stock was quite high at the time and everyone with working eyes and even Laken knew her as that wacky lady who RAISED A LITERAL WALLED CITY WITH ONLY ONE DJINNI HELPING)

[thepastisalreadywritten]

SAINT OF THE DAY (July 17)

The universal Church celebrates the life of St. Leo IV on July 17.

Both a Roman and the son of Radoald, Leo was unanimously elected to succeed Sergius II as pope. 

At the time of his election, there was an alarming attack of the Saracens on Rome in 846, which caused the people to fear the safety of the city.

Because of the tension of the situation, Leo was consecrated on 10 April 847 without the consent of the emperor.

Leo received his early education at Rome in the monastery of St. Martin, near St. Peter's Basillica.

His pious behaviour drew the attention of Gregory IV, who made him a subdeacon. He was later created cardinal-priest of the church of the Quatuor Coronati by Sergius II.

As soon as Leo, much against his will, became pope, he began to take precautions against a repetitious acts of the Saracen raid of 846.

He began a project to put the walls of the city into a thorough state of repair, entirely rebuilding fifteen of the great towers.

He was the first to enclose the Vatican hill by a wall. In order to do this, he received money from the emperor and help from all the cities and agricultural colonies (domus cultae) of the Duchy of Rome.

The work took him four years to accomplish, and the newly fortified portion was called the Leonine City, after him.

In 852, the fortifications were completed and were blessed by the Pope with great solemnity.

It was by this Pope that the church of S. Maria Nova was built to replace S. Maria Antiqua, which the decaying Palace of the Caesars threatened to engulf, and of which the ruins have recently been brought to light.

In 850, Leo associated with Lothair in the empire of his son Louis by imposing on him the imperial crown.

Three years later, "he hallowed the child Alfred to king [says an old English historian] by anointing; and receiving him for his own child by adoption, gave him confirmation, and sent him back [to England] with the blessing of St. Peter the Apostle."

In the same year, 853, he held an important synod in Rome in which various decrees were passed for the furtherance of ecclesiastical discipline and learning, and for the condemnation of the refractory Anastasius, cardinal of St. Marcellus and sometime librarian of the Roman Church.

Equally rebellious conduct on the part of John, Archbishop of Ravenna, forced Leo to undertake a journey to that city to inspire John and his accomplices with respect for the law.

It was during his engaging endeavour to inspire another archbishop, Hincmar of Reims, with this same reverence that Leo died.

He was buried in St. Peter's on 17 July 855.

He is credited with being a worker of miracles both by his biographer and by the Patriarch Photius. His name is found in the Roman Martyrology.

[calciopics]

Just Fontaine (1933-2023)

Just Fontaine, a “monument of French football” who in 1958 scored a record 13 goals in a single edition of the World Cup, has died aged 89. The striker scored 30 goals in 21 internationals for France between 1953 and 1960, but he will always be remembered for the mark he set in Sweden, when he was instrumental in Les Bleus reaching the semi-finals.

In his club career, Fontaine’s strike rate was as impressive. He scored 259 goals from 283 matches and was one of the key players of the great Stade de Reims team who reached the European Cup final in 1959. Reims, who won three French top flight titles with Fontaine between 1958 and 1962, lost 2-0 to Real Madrid but he was the competition’s top scorer with 10 goals.

His death was announced by Paris Saint-Germain, who he managed between 1973 and 1976, leading them to promotion back to Ligue 1 in 1974. PSG described Fontaine as a “monument of French football”.

Born in Morocco in 1933, Fontaine started out at USM Casablanca before joining Nice in 1953. He moved on to Reims three years later.

Fontaine scored a hat-trick against Paraguay in France’s opening group game at the 1958 World Cup finals, two against Yugoslavia and one against Scotland. He also grabbed two in France’s 4-0 quarter-final win over Northern Ireland and drew them level in their semi-final against Brazil.

However, the eventual winners from South America – inspired by a 17-year-old Pelé who hit a second-half hat-trick – ran out 5-2 winners. Fontaine smashed four past West Germany in the third-place playoff match, which France won 6-3.

His 13 goals place him joint-fourth in the all-time men’s World Cup top-scorer charts, alongside Argentina’s Lionel Messi who needed five finals to reach that total.

The France coach, Didier Deschamps, said: “The death of Just Fontaine saddens me, as it will inevitably sadden all those who love football and our national team. ‘Justo’ is, and will remain, a legend of the team.

“‘Justo’ was a man of great kindness, very respectful of the generations who succeeded him with Les Bleus. His attachment to the France team was strong and sincere. I extend my thoughts to his family, his loved ones and all our great elders today in pain.”

[gruesomejack]

Lbrh Vi will see Drew and kick his feet a little too. It's the Reimes charm fhGNXBCN

Vi: you can interview me if you want to 🥰

Drew: is he normally this friendly

Charlie: he likes attention

[belafujoshisdead]

Regarding Tauhrelil’s Bond

Asaau learns the depths of wrongness between Virenina and Ai Naa, and questions if he can stand to know it.

Asaau knew what she meant. How could he not? They had reached Ai Naa's anchor, the spear in the ground, the thing rimed in burning light.

And, behind it, the wound in the earth.

I can't look, Asaau thought helplessly, and another part of him answered: You must.

"You probably figured this out on your own already," Virenina said as they walked, "but autokinesis isn't really one of my powers. Not the way most people think it is, anyway. It's more like a…side effect, of my real power. Or maybe a byproduct."

"Byproduct," Asaau repeated, somewhat faintly. It made sense, given what she'd just shown him, but even so, it chilled him to hear Virenina call the power of sustained flight a mere byproduct. Part of Asaau wondered, faintly, how long it would take him to adjust to this new and inhuman sense of scale. Perhaps he never would.

"My real power," Virenina told him, "is restraint."

He knew what she meant. The killing light, the awful pressure, the screams, the screams, the screams, he knew – and still, Asaau had to press his lips together to hold back a hideously ill-timed laugh. To hear Virenina, of all people, declare that her greatest power was restraint was the final little absurdity that threatened to snap his fraying self-control.

"What I showed you just now was nothing," Virenina said, and the urge to laugh died within him as swiftly and sharply as if decapitated. "If there's an end to Ai Naa, I've never found it. I've never even come close. Some people have a hard time channeling because they drain their reserves too fast. For me, though…"

"Too much?" It was such a simple, obvious guess that Asaau felt stupid for even voicing it, but anything was better than letting Virenina drift back into silence.

"Before we paired," she said, "Ai Naa could only taste blood through mind-echoes and secondhand dreams. Then, suddenly – " Virenina mimed shock with a widened eye, a splaying of the hands. "A body!" She spun on one heel so that she walked backwards facing Asaau, grinning, arms flung wide, telegraphing exultation. "Flesh and feeling! Skin and sensation! A tongue to taste with, a mouth to devour…"

Her arms fell slowly back to her sides. Her hands tightened into fists.

"My mouth." Her grin stiffened; her lone eye shone with fury. "My mouth, my tongue, my body – "

She stopped and drew in a long breath through her teeth, then exhaled with a hiss that reminded Asaau of steam escaping a volcanic vent.

"Seket." Virenina fell back into walking alongside him. Her voice sounded almost cheerful, almost like her usual self. "You love quizzing me so much, now it's your turn to answer for once." She tossed back her head, then folded her hands before her the way Asaau often did himself. When she spoke again, she imitated the smooth, soft-edged propriety that colored his own voice. "Recall, if you will," said Virenina in her Asaau-voice, "the introduction to Urasyata Utsaya Reim's Foundations of the Unseen Art. In what terms does Syata Reim describe the nature of a paired human?"

Well, she has to be feeling better if she's back to needling you. But Asaau was too tired to manage more than a brief flicker of annoyance. He wasn't sure if it was at her imitation of his voice, or at the basic nature of her question. Oh, just give her an answer. If it helps her to explain…

"A gate," he said. "Syata Reim posits that the enmeshment of body and soul allows a paired human to act as a conduit. By bonding to the soul enmeshed in the body, the paired spirit becomes enmeshed in turn and may then flow from the unseen world to ours. With the introduction of a stable third object, an anchor – "

"Oh, we'll talk about anchors soon, just you wait," said Virenina, with all the cheer of a merrily crackling funeral pyre. Then, slipping back into her Asaau-voice, her playing-teacher voice: "But why a gate? Why not a bridge, a passage, a way-path?"

Why those three counterexamples? Asaau asked himself, and from there soon had his answer.

"One may simply walk over a bridge or along a path," he said, "but a gate must be opened. And a paired spirit – though connected to our world through a human soul, it can't simply flow across from the unseen world. Even a paired spirit must still will itself across the – the gap, so to speak, between its world and ours, and its partner must let it cross. Or desire it to, at least…their wills must align. The gate must unlock."

"Or be forced open," said Virenina.

Asaau tried to say something in response and managed only a faint movement of his lips. His face felt numb, bloodless. Ahead he could make out the first far-off glitter of moonlight dripping down cold metal.

"Through me," said Virenina, "Ai Naa can finally touch the world of flesh and blood. Imagine if your soul was grown from the seed of red hunger, Seket, and suddenly for the first time you can really taste this thing you've spent gods know how many thousands of years starving for…but only when the royal slitting cunt of a human you're paired with lets you." She was grinning again, grinning, a bright hateful crescent of teeth that glittered like her distant blade. "Wouldn't it make your hunger even worse? Wouldn't you be furious? All that pulsating bright red life hanging just out of your reach, wouldn't you try to force your way across so you could just eat?"

"I don't know," Asaau said, faintly, tremulously. "I…"

I can't, he wanted to tell her. His mind had been forced to accept as real one impossible horror after another. He was beginning to wonder, genuinely, how much more he could stand. It's too much. Let me turn back, let me unknow it. The words piled up on his tongue, festered behind his closed lips, and oh, gods in their graves, how could he say them to Virenina? How could he tell her it was too much for him, when she was the one fused by the soul to Ai Naa? Forgive me, Tauhrelil, I know you've trusted me with your most terrible secret, but you must understand, it's so very upsetting to listen to…

"My real power," Virenina said again, "is restraint. Every minute of every day."

Asaau tried to focus on her words, in spite how much he didn't want to hear them. Better to focus on her words than on the shrinking distance between himself and Ai Naa's anchor.

"But it's a power, right? So there's going to be offbleed – don't worry, I won't quiz you on circulation theory…"

Better to focus on her words than on how the moon's silver light gave way to green where the spearblade bit into rock. On how that green light sank sizzling into his vision like acid if he looked for more than a moment.

"My concentration limit is pretty inhuman, but it's still, you know, a limit. I have to vent the offbleed sometime, and – most people, they can just do that without even thinking, you know? Like breathing. Me, though…I don't know what kind of Tehariel wave Ai Naa puts out, but I'm not about to risk hitting innocent people with it. Why do you think I had you watch from so far away? I had to get you out of my radius."

Her radius, Asaau thought, and another chill swept through his flesh. With power like that, she could crown herself in blood and rule the world entire…but only if she wished to reign over a court of the dead. His mind wove him an image against his will, of Virenina enthroned above a roiling sea of blood, clutching Ai Naa's anchor in one hand like a scepter, alone with her paired monster and everything it wanted. Asaau shook his head once, sharply. Cut that thread, before it strangles you.

With an effort, he wrenched himself out of his mind and back into the present, where a low green glow now tinged the air, rising from the ground where the killing light had struck. Asaau made half a reach for the darkglass lenses before realizing that the groundglow didn't burn when he looked. The spear. It burns only when reflected from the spear. That was – that was good. It was useful. He could do something with that, change his actions, make it more bearable. Just look away, Asaau told himself. You don't have to see it. You don't have to touch it. She would never let you touch it.

"If most paired humans are like a gate, I'm more like…secondary containment," Virenina went on. "Ra, vaara, his, mine, it doesn't matter – he can't do anything if I don't let it into the anchor. The body is full of hollow places." She seemed to be talking half to herself now. "You have to think about it like containment. Where can I store it? Lots of holes in bone marrow. Every cell can be a little vessel, if you let it, but I like to keep it in the bones. Less risk if I get cut."

"In your body?!" Asaau repeated, horrified, then: "Wait." Something was beginning to occur to him. "Wait – so when you fight, that means – "

"I guess it's still Ai Naa's power, if it came from him," said Virenina, "but he doesn't fight with me. Not really. The control, the release, every broken bone or bruised organ I've ever given out – that's me. I'm just using his power to fuel it. If I actually brought him out, tried to use him in a fight…well, you can probably imagine it yourself by now." Her grin looked closer to a grimace. "Like detonating a fusion bomb to snuff out a candle."

Asaau knew what she meant. How could he not? They had reached Ai Naa's anchor, the spear in the ground, the thing rimed in burning light.

And, behind it, the wound in the earth.

I can't look, Asaau thought helplessly, and another part of him answered: You must.

But before he could, Virenina's arm was out in front of him, barring his way. "Wait here," she told him, and then closed the distance between her and the spear alone. Asaau kept his eyes on the quietly lit ground and watched as their shadows became one. Listened to the wind, to the distant sea, to metal scraping free of rock, to Virenina murmuring "Partner mine," to anything but the chiming of metal rings striking together. A blade-shadow slid past his vision and melted into the shape of Virenina, until it was nothing but a point rising from one dark shoulder.

When her shadow was gone, when her footsteps stopped beside him, when he knew he wouldn't see the spear; only then did Asaau finally look up.

The first thing his eyes found was the molten channel carved down the cliff face; its edges frothed with shapes his mind could only understand as boiling rock suddenly frozen in time. His eyes followed it up, and up, to the rim of the cliff and the raw new half-moon cut into it, and then dropped to the ground. Dropped further. And here, at last, was the source of the glow.

Asaau stepped forward, hoping desperately that his eyes had misled him, knowing already that they saw it true. At the foot of the cliff, at the bottom of the channel, lay the open mouth of a sheer-sided pit, a column of emptiness punched down and down through solid rock. Bottomless, his mind whispered, but no, no, the light had to come from somewhere; there had to be a bottom, something at the bottom, some source for this green light that shone wetly up the gleaming-raw sides of the pit and spilled over its molten lip and colored the ground, the air…

The world shifted; the lip of the pit fell closer. For a moment Asaau veered toward panic, until he realized he'd simply fallen to his knees. In horror, certainly, but also in a kind of defeat; for he saw now that a last, desperate part of him had been hoping that all this might somehow still be a trick of the mind. No longer. Now the proof was burned and blasted into the same rock he felt beneath his hands and knees. The wound in the earth made it real.

"I don't know how deep it goes, so don't ask," Virenina said from behind him. "Get away from there, Seket. You don't have to make yourself keep looking."

Any bloodroyal worth his pedigree should have been able to go in one smooth motion from kneebound to standing. Asaau had done so more times than he could ever hope to count, tried to now, and failed. He had to brace himself with his palms before his knees would unfold. Slowly, he turned his head, and hoped with all his heart that he wouldn't flinch at the sight of Ai Naa's spearblade hovering behind Virenina's head.

He didn't. It wasn't there.

"Don't look up," she said. "I have him – " She cast her lone eye skyward and twirled one upraised forefinger.

Asaau, of course, immediately looked up, and then hurriedly snatched his gaze groundward once more, before he could catch the very sight she was trying to spare him.

"I thought that you…" he started. "That is, wasn't he – calling you back? Didn't you need to…reunite?"

"A little of my blood on the blade keeps him quiet," said Virenina. Asaau's stomach tilted sickly. "For a while. That's how I left it behind, earlier, when I came back for you after…" She pointed over his shoulder, toward the pit. The look on her face suggested she was waiting for some sort of reaction from him, but by now Asaau had been reacting to so much for so long that he felt nearly spent. Of course Virenina fed her partner her own blood. That might have sickened Asaau, but after everything else he'd learned tonight, it certainly didn't surprise him. What else was she meant to do to pacify the spirit of red hunger?

"There's a few more things you should probably know," Virenina went on, "but nothing that can't be said in private back in the Opaline City. We can leave right now, if you want, but…"

Then she trailed off and just looked at him, her brow furrowed, her teal-black lips twisted into a thin, dark line. She looks almost worried. Asaau knew there had to be a reason, but he couldn't think for long enough to find it. His mind was clouded with exhaustion and, once the words 'Opaline City' left Virenina's mouth, with sudden longing.

"Please," said Asaau. "Let's leave, Tauhrelil." Then, to cover up the desperation he heard in his own voice: "We've already been gone a whole day, after all. Your audience may well die from want of you if we keep them waiting much longer."

He expected her to grin at that. Instead she only looked pained.

"Seket," she said, in a voice that matched the look on her face. "I flew us out here."

"Fl – oh." His face must have cracked like a porcelain teacup, judging from the quick, hurt way Virenina dropped her gaze, but the guilt it caused him quickly gave way to a fresh surge of dread. Flying us, she'd have to – the spear… Asaau fought the urge to look back at the pit, and made himself breathe slowly, but there was nothing he could do about sudden, sick speed of his pulse. Au Melai save me, I can't go near that thing, not after…but how else will we…?

"We could go back overland," Virenina offered, still looking at the ground. Her voice sounded almost small. "I could keep you safe."

Asaau almost wanted to say yes – until he tried to imagine how long it might take to cover a mile of the Shattered Lands by foot, and how many days the miles might amount to. We'd have to sleep out here. The thought alone was almost enough to make him shudder. Though he had no doubt that Virenina could keep him safe from whatever horrors the Shattered Lands held – at least physically – a horror survived was still a horror, and Asaau had already seen enough tonight to haunt him the rest of his life.

If they flew, it would at least be over quickly. He suspected it was the best he could hope for.

"Take us back to the Ring," he said at last. "By air, if you would."

For a moment, Virenina's lone eye glimmered in such a way that Asaau thought she might cry. Instead she blinked once, hard, and stepped his way. It fell to Asaau to close the distance between them, to come near enough that she could pick him up the same way she had before.

"Close your eyes," she warned him. There was no need for Asaau to ask why. He waited blindly; heard and sensed Ai Naa's anchor arrowing downward through the night; felt Virenina step up and onto its waiting haft.

"I'm sorry," she said, quieter than Asaau had ever heard her speak before. "For – everything."

She took off before he could say anything; and then, for the second time that night, the only thing Asaau heard was the wind.

[netpen-info]

[ad_1] I prefer to suppose I’ve kicked off a number of practice journeys in fashion in my time, however the way in which Belmond Trains start their new providing, a journey from Vienna by Reims to Paris, hosted by Veuve Clicquot and aboard iconic sleeper practice the Venice Simplon-Orient-Specific, is like nothing I’ve ever skilled earlier than.The Belmond Solaire expedition—one in every of a sequence of collaborations with Veuve Clicquot—begins with one thing actually extraordinary: a non-public gala dinner within the 18th-century Palace of Liechtenstein, as soon as dwelling to one of many oldest noble households in Europe. It’s an outrageous set-up: welcome drinks are hosted amidst the peerlessly manicured gardens and soundtracked by a string quartet; there’s the possibility to tour the constructing to see Andrea Pozzo’s monumental fresco of Hercules within the Grand Corridor; after which there’s the dinner itself.Nearly all of the unimaginable décor on board the Venice Simplon-Orient-Specific dates again to the Nineteen Twenties. Hosted in a flower-laden, sun-dappled conservatory, when Vogue joined the journey in July, we had been handled to eight programs of ingenious cooking from award-winning Austrian chef Andreas Döllerer, identified for his progressive takes on conventional Alpine dishes. The likes of bone marrow disguised as scallops had been paired with Veuve Clicquot vintages from 2012, 2008, and 2002, every extra complicated than the final. By the point the night drew to an in depth—with a spot of opera, naturally—I felt giddy. And that was simply the beginning of the journey.As an idea, Belmond Solaire was first launched in 2022 to mark 250 years of Maison Clicquot. Much more unique than the luxurious practice group’s typical journeys, these excursions enable company to expertise journey on a Nineteen Twenties sleeper at restricted capability and with limitless bubbles. My journey was one in every of three excursions deliberate for 2024—there’s a remaining one by Peru, from 21 October to 26 October—and it mapped out the footprint of champagne throughout Europe from our start line in Vienna, the place it was as soon as sipped in royal courts, to the caves the place it’s been saved for a whole bunch of years. And it does all of that whereas offering impeccable positive eating, the facilities of a luxurious resort, and unbeatable views of Europe’s countryside. [ad_2]

[mechanically-disinclined]

//Drew... has adhd

[purposefully-lost]

"I mean, it's gotta be a crazy feeling, right?" Delia Sanchez leaned against the arm of one of the chairs in his office, speaking vaguely into the mic Drew had set up for guests. She'd become something of a regular, Drew's best and personal favorite correspondent when it came to talking about older cases. "You know that something is happening, but not only can you not verifiably prove it, but the one person you think you can trust is fighting you on it."

"And this is the kind of thing we see in cases like this all the time, right?" Drew asked, mainly just to open up the floor and let her talk a little longer. "Especially in this era. Not that it's gotten much better, but.."

"But people have phones, now." Delia shot him a smile. "For some people, they see something off-putting, they take a picture. Or they call someone. Or-"

As if on cue, Drew's phone started to buzz. He frowned as an apology and reached out towards his desk to grab it. His expression only deepened when he peered at the screen.

Delia seemed to watch him for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. "Do you need to take that?" She asked, hesitating when he didn't give an immediate answer. "Because I can step out, or-"

"No. It's, uh, it's alright." Swiping the button to decline made something in his chest feel a little twisted up, but it seemed like the right choice. He didn't have time to entertain any of Charlie's hysterics right now. It probably wasn't anything important. Probably. Drew looked back up at her and cleared his throat, offering a quick smile. "You were saying, about, uh.."

"What I was saying is... this case could look very different in the modern day," she started, and that made it easy to slip back into the conversation again. It'd be an easy cut, too, when it came to the editing. He put his phone on mute and sat it back to the side.

-----

Charlie hadn't tried to call him again. Drew sat at the kitchen table, chewing at a thumbnail as he scrolled down the screen showing his call history, then back up, his gaze landing on the one and only time Charlie had tried to get in touch with him since.. well, since. From the moment Jay had disappeared, it'd been Drew trying to get ahold of him, and then it'd been nothing. Even after that car accident- their mother had been the one to contact him. He'd called and called and called, trying to get Charlie to pick up, but he'd had to give it up fairly quickly. Charlie wanted nothing to do with them and at this point, he just had to be fine with that.

So he still didn't understand why he'd called.

"Everything okay?"

Jackie had slipped back inside. She was in the process of pulling her hair down out of it's ponytail, her brows furrowing at him when he glanced up and only offered a shrug. "It's fine," he told her. "Just, uh.."

"Uh.." She mimicked, smiling at him as she stepped around behind him and leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek. Then she leaned against his shoulder to peer at his phone just the same as he was. "What's going on?"

"Uh," he started again, leaning his temple against hers, "Charlie called me. Yesterday."

"Oh." Her voice had dropped anything lighthearted and turned concerned. She leaned her head against his in return. "What'd he say?"

"I don't know. I mean- I didn't answer."

"Are you gonna call him back?"

"I don't know," Drew replied. He frowned at the screen for another moment, at the white text that simply spelled out his brother's name. The only one he had left. Chris and Jay still had contacts saved in his phone, even though the numbers were either defunct or servicing someone new by now. Charlie's might as well have been the same. "Do you.. think I should? It might just be bullshit."

"Could be important bullshit," she replied, her voice softer than he expected. Drew pulled back to look up at her, searching her gaze while she offered a small shrug. "Look, you.. know I don't like him," she continued. "But, I mean, with the.. state he was in last time we saw him..." Jackie frowned. "It's just gonna drive you crazy if you don't find out what this is about."

"Yeah. I guess." He looked at his phone again and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Maybe I'll.. I don't know. I'll think about it."

-----

It was late. Jackie had already slipped off to bed and he should've followed, but the call was still in the back of his mind. It was a fifty-fifty shot as to if Charlie would actually pick up if he called him back.

He did. On only the second ring, a tired, quiet voice answered. "Hello?"

"..Charlie," Drew said quietly, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose as he tried to ready himself for whatever was about to come next. He'd sort of been hoping Charlie might've just not answered and absolved him of the responsibility of listening. It was a hope that he felt guilty for, for sure, but it was late and he was tired and he didn't feel prepared for this. "Hey, I.. saw that you called yesterday. What's goin' on, man?"

"Oh. Uh.." His voice trailed off. Drew tried to picture him and struggled to; his hair was probably still long, maybe unwashed, though he tried to give him the benefit of doubt. From the roughness in his voice, he assumed he'd been drinking. "I just, uh.. I- I was just... I wanted to... check in," he managed finally. "I figured, y'know..."

Drew leaned back in his seat and frowned, his face scrunching as he tried to decipher what that could possibly mean. Maybe he was just feeling guilty out of the blue, for some reason. It wasn't as if they were close to any anniversaries. "I don't think you need to check in on me," he said plainly, and waited for a moment in the silence that followed. When Charlie didn't grace him with an answer, he pushed ahead. "Are you drunk, Charlie?"

"Sorta," came the reply, which was about as much of one as Drew expected. "I, um... I'm- I've been- I- I was doin' better, though. For a while. I- I mean, I wasn't exactly sober, but..."

Well, he certainly wasn't tonight. Drew sighed as quietly as he could and hoped the sound of it didn't transfer, reaching up to push a hand through his hair. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, exactly. He was certain Charlie wasn't going to give him any kind of straight answer. "Is that why you called me? To tell me that?"

"N- no. I, uh.." His voice fell even softer. Drew could hear his breath shake, as if he had the phone pulled close to his face. "I- I think there's... uh. Hey, do- d'you remember that.. stupid fuckin' fight Chris n' I had?"

"Which one?" Drew asked tiredly. Charlie made a soft noise that was either a laugh or a cry, but probably the latter.

"About, uh.. it- it wasn't really a- a fight, it was just.. I- I thought- we thought there was some kinda.. fucked up pipe, or somethin', in the walls at the- at the house. 'Cause I kept hearin' shit. We busted a- a fuckin' hole in the wall ourselves lookin' for it, and mom got pissed, and we- we never found shit. He- he just got pissed at me for a minute, too. It's like that."

Drew listened, rubbing at his forehead. He thought he remembered Chris and Charlie laughing over some kind of botched DIY job they'd attempted, but he didn't remember them fighting over it. He didn't know what this was supposed to be leading to, either. "What's like that, Charlie?"

"I- like- like the pipe. Like somethin's busted and I- I'm hearin' it but I can't-"

"Jesus, Charlie." Drew dropped his hand and sighed again. "Call a.. plumber, or somethin'. Or call mom, see if she-"

"No, there's- its not actually a pipe. But its like that. It's-"

"Charlie," he said again, carefully. "You sound like you're freakin' out over nothing. Look, just-" He pushed out a breath, tried not to sound mad at him. He was drunk, and he sounded stressed, as much trouble as he'd caused over the years, Drew still cared about him. "Just go to sleep, alright? Sober up, and then.. deal with it tomorrow. Okay? Call me then."

There a pause. Then a shuffle, as if Charlie were moving. "Okay," he said finally.

"Okay. I'll talk to you soon."

"Okay," Charlie repeated, and then Drew hung up. He set the phone to the side and pushed his face into his hands to try and breathe. Hopefully, it'd make better sense tomorrow.

----

Closing his laptop, Drew glanced at his phone and frowned. It'd been about twelve hours since Charlie had called and he hadn't heard anything from him. He doubted he even remembered that they'd talked.

He considered for a long moment, then decided to leave it be. Calling Charlie had only ever seemed to make things worse.

[gaolerdeathmetal]

would you look at that, i finally drew my guy! second pic is months old which is why it looks like that, lol. I'll redraw his non-anthro form another day...

my large horrible beast, Reim...

the current scraps of lore I have in mind for him include him being a bodyguard of a Lich he was tasked to apprehend, yet he instead betrayed his own order to "serve" this Lich in hopes of being granted greater power...

[ceadogart]

i stayed up until 5am to catch the blood moon pls take my sketchez

also reiss drew some of deez so shoutouts to reims for staying up until 5am w me

[katsura369]

Sneak Peak: Through the Looking Glass Chapter 7 (Full chapter coming 30th June/available on Ko-fi)

Because of burnout I took a small break, so I’ll have to update a litlte later than usual, but I am doing my best to keep up with my workload. I

“How could you not think to take provisions for yourself?! What were you planning on doing about lodging and food?”

Sakura wouldn't say she was cursed, certainly, she's had bad experiences but that was life. And she wouldn't call it misfortune, not in comparison to her friends. Even being brought to this world, she hadn't thought herself tragically cursed, just unfortunate for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or rather being drawn to the wrong place.

She was close to the edge, however, because after being swindled along with the rest of Sinbad's crew and choosing to stay behind with him in Reim, had already taken a turn for the worst. First, Sinbad had sent all the profits they made for their stock with their comrades, so they had nothing to cover food and lodging. Other than three measly copper coins Sinbad had in the back of his pocket. Sakura didn't think to take anything because the treasure was rightfully Sinbad's from the dungeon.

Now she wished she had demanded compensation. Because being stuck with Sinbad was already turning out to be more detrimental to her than she expected.

“We’ll be fine.” He assured her. “Don’t wear such a sour look, you’ll crease your charming forehead,”

She curled her lip back, tapping her forehead much to Sinbad's amusement. "You've got to figure out how to get permission to trade in Reim before the others get back, not to mention you were just thoroughly ripped off yet you're still so cheerful."

The stars were out and bright, but none shone like Sinbad’s smile as he ushered Sakura through the crowds of the shopping district like he had been here before. Even at this time of night the streets were alive and vibrant with chatter and lit with torches.

“It’ll be alright, trust me. Instead of worrying about that, let’s go get dinner first,”

"I don't know how you're assuming we'll be able to get dinner with low-value coin." She wasn't annoyed by the fact that they probably weren't going to be able to eat. Because she could endure that for days without feeling, but what got under her skin was his carelessness.  Sinbad was certain that despite this setback, they were going to reach their goal.

It’s as if he had no sense of failing. Even if he didn’t know how to reach his destination or what the weather might bring, he would always arrive.

“Let’s go over here,” He pulled her by her wrist across the roads. There was little concern for safety from either of them.

A commotion drew their attention away from their problems and towards a stall, with an owner that was accusing someone of stealing his merchandise. It was easy to identify the individual from his height despite the cloak, it was the same person that had conned Sinbad. She was content to just watch the scene unfold, but Sinbad stepped up when the merchant raised his hand.

“Stop it.”

The man looked at Sinbad shocked. “What? A child? Mind your own business!”

Sinbad raised his hand, but not in retaliation, he took the coins from his pocket and placed them in the palm of the merchant. “Take these as a token of apology even though it’s not much. Merchandise is the lifeline of merchants. I apologize in place of this man for treating your merchandise carelessly.”

That seemed to pacify the shop owner, and he let them be and Sinbad turned to the man.

“Are you alright?”

The hooded figure responded coldly, "If money can settle it, I already said I'll pay. You get excited too easily."

“Certainly.” Sakura had her arms folded, glaring at the two. “But that worked to your advantage this afternoon didn’t it?”

The man in the cloak turned away, “I must thank you, please this way,”

Sakura was ready to decline, but Sinbad interjected, unfortunately, it looked like he was faster than her when it came to running his mouth. "We'd be delighted."

[thepastisalreadywritten]

SAINT OF THE DAY (July 17)

The universal Church celebrates the life of St. Leo IV on July 17.

Both a Roman and the son of Radoald, Leo was unanimously elected to succeed Sergius II as Pope. 

At the time of his election, there was an alarming attack of the Saracens on Rome in 846, which caused the people to fear the safety of the city.

Because of the tension of the situation, Leo was consecrated on 10 April 847 without the consent of the emperor.

Leo received his early education at Rome in the monastery of St. Martin, near St. Peter's Basillica.

His pious behaviour drew the attention of Gregory IV, who made him a subdeacon.

He was later created Cardinal-Priest of the Church of the Quatuor Coronati by Sergius II.

As soon as Leo, much against his will, became Pope, he began to take precautions against a repetitious acts of the Saracen raid of 846.

He began a project to put the walls of the city into a thorough state of repair, entirely rebuilding fifteen of the great towers.

He was the first to enclose the Vatican Hill by a wall.

In order to do this, he received money from the emperor and help from all the cities and agricultural colonies (domus cultae) of the Duchy of Rome.

The work took him four years to accomplish, and the newly fortified portion was called the Leonine City, after him.

In 852, the fortifications were completed and were blessed by the Pope with great solemnity.

It was by this Pope that the church of S. Maria Nova was built to replace S. Maria Antiqua, which the decaying Palace of the Caesars threatened to engulf and of which the ruins have recently been brought to light.

In 850, Leo associated with Lothair in the empire of his son Louis by imposing on him the imperial crown.

Three years later, "he hallowed the child Alfred to king [says an old English historian] by anointing; and receiving him for his own child by adoption, gave him confirmation, and sent him back [to England] with the blessing of St. Peter the Apostle."

In the same year, 853, he held an important synod in Rome in which various decrees were passed for the furtherance of ecclesiastical discipline and learning, and for the condemnation of the refractory Anastasius, Cardinal of St. Marcellus and sometime librarian of the Roman Church.

Equally rebellious conduct on the part of John, Archbishop of Ravenna forced Leo to undertake a journey to that city to inspire John and his accomplices with respect for the law.

It was during his engaging endeavour to inspire another archbishop, Hincmar of Reims, with this same reverence that Leo died.

He was buried in St. Peter's on 17 July 855.

He is credited with being a worker of miracles both by his biographer and by the Patriarch Photius.

His name is found in the Roman Martyrology.

[purposefully-lost]

Charlie nodded for him, pausing in his steps to let Vi slip away from him. He watched him for a few moments, them looked away, feeling awkward about catching him in such a private moment. Vi might've invited him here, but that was still his mother's grave. Even if it was hard to just hang back when he saw Vi start to cry, this was his moment to have. Instead he looked over the rest of the cemetery and tried not to wonder if anyone had visited his brother in a while. He was a bit closer to home, so surely someone must have. Except his father's knees weren't what they used to be, and it was sort of a longer walk out to Chris' plot. And Drew had always been sort of awkward and reserved about those sort of things, not unlike Charlie himself. If he wasn't talking about death in the confident and clinical approach he took within his work, he didn't like discussing it. Charlie had left Chris' funeral only a few minutes after walking through the door, but it'd been easy to see that his family weren't the ones keeping the atmosphere from sinking too low. It'd been Chris' friends, as bright as the man himself had been.

He hoped at least some of them had taken the time to seek him out.

Feeling a pang in his chest, he looked towards Vi again, trying to relax the clench in his jaw and the cold feeling that'd overtaken him. He wished Vi could've known him sooner, when his family had been whole and he'd been.. different. The Reimes home had been loud and reckless and messy, everything it seemed like Vi's childhood hadn't been, and he would've loved to have shared it with him. He wondered what Chris would've said if he'd brought home a boy like Victory. Probably would've teased him, but not unkindly. It was hard to imagine him not taking a shine to Vi.

He hesitated when he was beckoned over, but followed. Charlie looked between Vi and the headstone as he lowered himself to sit next to him, reaching out to gentle set the flowers down before he fully settled. He offered his hand out to Vi and followed it with a small smile. He hummed thoughtfully. "Guess I know now where you got it all from," he said softly, then returned his gaze to the headstone. His lips parted, then pressed shut again, as if he wanted to speak but wasn't sure if he should.

It was one thing for Vi to speak to her. He'd known her, he could picture her. Charlie felt a little bit like he was just talking to stone. But he wanted Vi to feel good about this- and Charlie did wish he could properly introduce himself to her. He tried to picture a woman that could be Vi's mother, with all the traits he hadn't seen in his father. Someone pretty and kind, someone he thought could've inspired Vi. "..Hi," he said after another moment, his voice very soft. He resisted the urge to glance at Vi and try to read if this was the rignt thing to do, instead pushing ahead. "Vi's, uh.. told me a bit about you. I'm real glad to meet you." He gently squeezed his hand. "You- you raised a good man. I'm.. lucky I got to meet him. Real lucky. He's... he's been- he's been takin' care of me."

Admitting that came out in a rush of breath, his voice somehow falling even softer. It was easy to say these things to Bianca's grave than to say them to Vi's face. "I'll try to return the favor."

A black car pulled up outside of the garage. It idled for a few moments before it was shut off. Out of the back seat, a tall, suited man stepped out and brushed any wrinkles from the navy fabric. His face was handsome, and his hair was graying in a way that only added to the regale of him. There were dark circles under neath the pale eyes on his face, and a strong, familiar was nose perched right in the center. He tugged on the sleeves of his blazer and made his way inside.

His eyes floated over the garage. It wouldn't be a bad place to launder money, would it? Especially if he pushed a few more lucrative clients this way. Vic considered it as he moved towards the office, humming quietly as he thought. "Quaint. When I was told you were a mechanic, I was expecting something a little bigger." He mused, stepping in to stand in the doorway. Glancing over the tiny room and the clutter it contained, the man smiled politely as his eyes fell back on Charlie. The blonde was... The image that came to mind was a big headed bully. Cropped ears and stark eyes, ready to flash sharp teeth. Even a dog with a bite history could be put to work, no? Enrichment and engagement were potential answers to a violent mutt. Well-- Before being put down.

"Do you have a moment to talk?" Vic's smile spread, his thick brows lowering just a touch. "There are a few things I'd like to discuss with you."

@purposefully-lost