#even if that weather's on the other end of the country and slowly slinking in

[dustylovelyrun]

I honestly just wanted to be coherent, man. I've had genuine bouts of time where I would frequently sleep for 24 hours before and wake in a zombified, exhausted state suggesting that I hadn't even had a single hour of rest, and that was considered a relatively good state of being for me. I've said my head is usually empty and mind entirely blank before, but there's something so horribly different about it being empty because it's leaden. My energy levels haven't really changed from then, but I can convince myself to do the dishes now, sweep the house, or go on walks, at least.

People who drink coffee: why did you start?

I don't drink coffee and I've never wanted to, but that's obviously ~not normal~, so I'm curious why most people do start drinking it.

[finelinevogue]

Can you expand on that topic of Harry buying that island for Y/N to conserve like you touched upon on the 73 questions thing you wrote please?

oooh yes!! i didn’t think this would be something that people would bring up but i’m excited to talk about it!! enjoy;

oli - 4, felix - 3, belle - 3 weeks

“What about this one?”

The same question Anne and Harry had been repeating for the last two hours. Neither Anne or Harry could decide on an island that they both thought you would absolutely love - an island that Harry would buy somewhere new for you to conserve and protect, for future family vacations and eventually potentially even retire to, whenever that day may come.

He had originally thought about purchasing a large plot of land along the coastline of Italy, because it had always captured a special place in Harrys heart. He loved the people, the culture, the weather, the food and he loved you when you’re bathing in the Italian sun. The boot-shaped country was the one in which you and Harry had spent your first holiday together. It was where you’d had your honeymoon. It was where, you’re pretty sure, that Oli was conceived. It held so many precious memories, so you both thought it time to make the country more permanent in your lives and purchase a house over there.

Unfortunately, due to coronavirus, Harry wasn’t able to physically go anywhere and house, or island, hunt - especially with a 3 week old baby. Belle had been born on October 2nd and she was an absolute angel - as happy as can be. Oli and Fix were currently looking after her, whilst Anne and Harry sorted through the mess of trying to organise the gift of a lifetime for you. Luckily you were out with a friend, shopping for baby clothes and a little something for yourself, for the day so Harry could complete his surprise in secret. Harry already held property in Malibu, New York, Japan, London and Manchester. He, until recently, had an apartment in San Fransisco, but he never used it and so the money that he got from selling that was going to be spent buying an island for you.

He always remembers one of the first conversations that he ever had with you and it was about how you wanted to change the world. You’d answered “I think i’d buy my own island and start conserving the planet one bit of land at a time, until I save it all!” Now obviously you were being very optimistic and silly with your dreams, but that’s all you thought they’d be - dreams. Harry was willing to make them a reality though. Okay, perhaps not world domination but he could start small and give you the thing you’d dreamt of even as a little girl.

“Mum—” Harry sighed, knowing he would reject it just like all the other ones she’d picked out for being either, too small, too big, too dangerous, too humanised. He didn’t care about price, he just wanted to get it right. He looked over to her computer, seeing what she’d found and brought up on her screen. “Shit, wait…”

This was it.

“Mhm?” Anne smiled knowingly.

“Give me details.” Harry asked her, pulling over his notepad and pen to jot down key information. He wasn’t planning on buying today, but he was planning on making inquiries so if he thought something needed negotiating then at least he’d have the information to hand.

“Okay, um,” she looked over the screen. Harry had only seen glimpses of the the island from the photos but even now he was fully invested in it, “it’s in Phuket, Thailand. Minimally developed on. 110 acres, but you know…”

“Could lessen due to climate change, yeah.” Harry noted and looked to his mum to see if she was continuing or not.

“They are allowing an income potential so you could build and make profit from it. Then again the island itself is $160 million so it’s going to be 7018 before you even start making a profit.” Anne joked, but Harry sighed. “What, love?”

“$160 million.” Harry pondered, thinking whether this is all worth it. It’s a huge investment and potential waste of money, but it was for you.

“You’re a near billionaire Harry. What else are you going to do with all your money? You could build back half of that money just from releasing a new album with no promotion. Imagine if you released a documentary or something too. You work hard, Harry, and you will continue to, so is it so wrong to treat yourself to something nice?”

“It’s not for me, though.”

“Well then, there’s the question you to need to ask yourself.” Harry looked at his mum quizzically before she responded. “Is Y/N worth it?”

Well that was a stupid question.

“Looks like Y/Ns getting her island after all.” Harry grinned so wide, feeling so happy that he was doing this for you. You deserved this so much. Yes it was a bloody huge investment and risk, if Harry was being honest with himself, but you were ridiculously worth it. So much so that he would have bought the island even if it were double that price. Harry sighed in relief and slouched back on the chair, thinking about how happy you’re going to be when you find out. Obviously there was so much paperwork and calls that needed to be made, so it was going to take some time, but to see your face at the end of this was going to be so worth it.

“Cuppa tea then?” Anne asked, slinking out of the chair and standing up.

“Yeah, go on—” The sounds of rattling keys and the front door opening broke Harry’s sentence, making him look up at his mum in panic. Time had flew by so quickly that he’d not even realised you could’ve actually been home anytime now.

Shit, you were home.

“Quick mum, help me hide all this. Wait mum, you’re going to have to sneak out the back because Y/Ns going to have too many questions otherwise!” Harry shot up from the kitchen table and started to gather bits of paper and close the laptops down. Luckily Harry was using his work laptop and Anne had brought her own so they didn’t have to worry about clearing browser history.

“What and you can’t just say you were hanging out with your ol’ mum?” Anne asked, laughing as she packed up her stuff because she knew just how demanding and stubborn her son was.

“I love you and call me when you get home safely okay?” Harry asked, chivying her out of the back door quietly and pecking her cheeks in thanks for everything she’s done for him today.

“Alright. Love you!”

Okay, act normal Harry.

“Mummy!” You heard Oli shout from the other room. You furrowed your eyebrows as you entered the house, dropping off your shoes and bags at the door before heading into the living room, where you knew you’d find the kids.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, looking around the room to see everything was in order. In fact, your heart melted at the sight of the siblings. Oli was sat upright against the sofa and had his baby sister laying on top of his stomach with hers, and Fix was sat just to the side of them - patting his sisters back rhythmically. It was a sight for sore eyes.

“Baby Belle just smiled.” Oli beamed brightly and you smiled back at him. Even though it was slightly irrelevant of him to shout for you because of this, you couldn’t help but awe over the fact the siblings were so loving for one another.

“Did she now?” You took out your phone to take a few pictures of them. “Smile again for mummy then, all of you.” You giggled as Fix pulled the cheesiest smile and Oli did his signature smile too - no teeth and raised eyebrows so high to the sky. You even caught a golden photo where Belle was slightly smiling too. “Are you okay in here still?”

You didn’t want to feel like you were abandoning your kids, because you would never, but you needed just a day to yourself to rejuvenate and help overcome the post-natal depression slowly. As much as you so very much loved them, it was hard for you sometimes. Belle was going to be sleeping for at least another hour, so you weren’t too worried about her. Oli and Fix were ever so sensible too, simply watching Teen Titans on Cartoon Network whilst they babysat their sister. You were only a shout away if something were to happen, which made you wonder where Harry was.

“Yes mummy.” Fix nodded his head whilst keeping his eyes glued to the TV.

“Everything all right in here?” Harry’s voice came from behind you, but you’r felt his presence a lot sooner before that. He stood behind you, peering into the room to check everything was in order.

God, you’d missed him today.

“Yeah, Oli tell daddy why you called me.”

“Baby Belle smiled daddy!” Oli retold the story just as animatedly as the first time, but keeping as still as he could so not to disturb his sister.

“Did she now? You must’ve made her happy then.” Harry slunk one of his hands around your waist and squeezed the pudge that had situated there. He absolutely loved the way you’d become curvier after giving birth. He said it gave him a bit extra of you to love on, to which you always cried at the words because he never failed to make you feel so beautiful.

“I try daddy.”

“I try too.” Felix added, obviously wanting his dad to know he wasn’t not helping in taking care of Belle.

“Good boys. Proud of you both.” They both smiled after their dads words, “Now you both behave and look after Baby Belle whilst I go make mummy a cup of tea okay?”

“But come back, daddy.” They both replied and you gave them a final warm smile, before making your way to the kitchen to make a warm, milky, beverage.

“Nice day?” Harry asked, following you into the kitchen. His hand was placed lowly on your back and guided you into the room.

“Lovely, thanks. Just missed you all.” You sighed and turned around to kiss him in the middle of the kitchen. Your lips moulded to his perfectly and he tasted so sweet, you probably so sour from your lemonade you’d had earlier.

“Miss you always.” Harry murmured against your lips and then pulled away, not before giving you and extra peck though.

You walked over to the kettle and switched it on, whilst Harry collected the mugs from the cupboard you were too small to reach. He picked out one with the letter H on and one with the letter of your first name on, knowing that you’d drink from each others letters as always.

“Been busy today?” You asked, dropping teabags into the cups and leaning against the counter side as you waited for the kettle to take its’ boil.

“Kinda.” He smirked to himself, trying to dodge that question and any others you might have about the day. “Glad you’re back home though.” He walked to you and cupped the back of your head lightly, guiding your face up to his.

“Thank you for being my home.” You smiled at your cheesy comment and then lead your lips to his again.

“You are a dream, my love.” Harry said, looking deep into the eyes he could fall in love with all over again.

Just as you were about to touch lips with his you heard the wails of your tiny daughter and sighed in sync. You chuckled as you flopped your head onto Harry’s chest. As much as you wanted to stay and soak up all the love he was about to give you, your children were a priority - especially a crying baby.

“Well, your dream will have to wait hun.” You patted his chest before walking out of the room, Harry watching you go before whispering ever-so-carefully under his breath.

“But yours won’t.”

[cherry3point14]

Cookies & Milk

Pairing: Dean x British!Reader Warnings: Established D/s, mind you don’t fall down the crack Word Count: 2,172. Summary: Dean buys you some cookies. You call them biscuits. Arguments ensue, lines are drawn and restraints are required. A/N: Have any of y’all met @winchesters-meaty-feast? She’s my pal and partner in crime. We have extensive conversations about many a subject but one day the most important topic arose. Biscuits. I’m a dunker, she is not. It almost tore us apart but luckily we’re stronger than that. Anyway, I drabbled this Dom/sub biscuit thing in our chat and the following CRACK is what snowballed from that. (This is meant to be dumb ok. Don’t come for me over this weirdness.) 

Ao3 if you prefer.

You should close your laptop.

In the late afternoon—underground where the time of day doesn’t matter—even then the light it’s emitting is too blue. Sure, you could turn down the brightness but it’s too little too late. Your eyes are already starting to ache from the strain.

You're not even doing anything important. You started scrolling a few hours ago; a news story that might have been something, but turned out to be nothing. Less than nothing, it was mundane. Dull as dishwater, as your mum might say. You would have closed your laptop then if it hadn’t been for that link at the bottom of the page. To another article, this time about an unexpected cold snap. This leads you to look up weather trends in Kansas, which becomes reading the articles on weather.com. Who even knew weather.com had articles? Still, they do and they’re very informative. The problem is that their data all points to it being cold as balls soon (your term, not theirs). So, now you’re shopping, with a pair of snow boots and two winter coats in your basket. And you’re debating a new scarf to put you over the free shipping threshold.

It is really time to shut your laptop before you go ahead and checkout. Dean hates having to pick up your parcels in town. Always complains that you have a problem. Pretty hypocritical considering the number of breweries he keeps in business. Besides he doesn’t even have a reason to complain, Marta loves seeing him, she lights up like a Christmas tree for him. You walk into the post office and you get a ton of side-eye, plus a ten-minute wait, but Dean? Well, he’s always at the front of her line.

You’re so engrossed in shopping that you don’t immediately look up at the sound of the bunker door. It’ll be Dean, you know that much. He’ll have a couple of brown bags from his supply run and you don't want to insult him by insinuating that he needs help.

It’s for the greater good anyway, the longer you sit here the more chance there is of you buying him snow boots too. Maybe he'll let you buy him a hat too.

Once he’s finished stomping his way down the stairs he sets the paper bags down next to you. It just so happens that's the exact moment you finally look up at him. A grateful smile on your face and over the top fluttering eyelashes—to remind him how loveable you are.

He shakes his head at how obvious you are. “I didn’t buy them for just you.” His unnecessary emphasis is all the permission you need.

“Is that smoke?” You sniff the air, one arm sliding inside the nearest bag, “must be the fire in your pants.”

He tries. Bless his heart. He tries to hold out. You can see him chewing the inside of his mouth as your arm moves about inside the bag to liberally finger his goods. The haul from the supermarket anyway. But he cannot resist your lame jokes and it ends the same as always. He cracks. A twitch of his lip, shaking his head and then an eye roll even Sam would be proud of.

“Other bag, Sherlock.”

“Ah-ha!” You grin when you switch to the other bag. Instead of fresh fruits and vegetables, you’re treated to food of the more processed variety. Plastic bags filled with crisps, a pie carton and, oh he really does love you, biscuits.

You slink back down to your screen, tearing the package open with your teeth as you do. Revitalised by the imminent influx of sugar. Dean sighs but doesn’t say another word. He picks up the rest of the groceries and carries them away. Presumably to the kitchen by the distant sounds of him putting everything away.

It’s another five minutes when he returns with a glass of milk that he puts down next to you. With a determined thump of glass on wood, as if the sound is an entire explanation.

“Thanks, but you know I don’t…”

“Take the damn milk.”

Normally you’d be irritated for being cut off mid-sentence, but it’s his exasperated tone that catches your attention. You even deign to look at him again, ignoring the popup that’s offering an extra 15% off if you enter your email. “You ok?”

He scratches at the scruff on his jaw while he tries to internally talk himself down from the ledge. “Nothing, nothing. Drink the milk, please.”

You look from him to the glass and frown at the white liquid. There’s nothing wrong with it per se. It looks like a perfectly good glass of milk, the kind you might see on a ‘got milk’ ad from the nineties. It’s not that you hate milk, you just prefer your biscuits to have a little bite. Dean should know that by now but if he’s forgotten then you are more than happy to remind him. “You eat your biscuits how you want, let me eat mine how I want.”

In your attempt to be rational you have failed to notice the desperation in his, 'please'. And now you’ve managed to tick him off.

“Cookies,” he grinds out.

“What?”

“They’re cookies. Dammit, you’ve lived here long enough to call a cookie a cookie.”

The outburst is not Dean’s fault. He’s not exactly hoarding MAGA caps and asking you to go back to England. No, this outrage is the product of a very specific joke that you might have taken too far.

Ordinarily, you switched back and forth between American and British all the time. As easy as breathing. You’d lived in the good ol’ US of A for long enough that your brain simply picked out the first word it could reach. A lot of the time it ended up being American without much intention, people understood better. 

And then a few weeks back you’d been on the way to a hunt, sprawled in the back seat. Despite the fact that you were still strategizing with Sam you were comfortable. You could have fallen asleep right there if Sam hadn't kept talking. The word had slipped out on a whim. You called Baby’s trunk a boot.

Dean—being an absolute drama queen—had slammed on the brakes and eloquently asked what the fuck you called his Baby. Apparently, it was the first time you’d said that particular British word.

If you hadn’t found his reaction utterly hilarious that would have been the end of it. Except you did find it funny. The way his face soured, that little crease in the middle of his brow, he was so offended by four little letters. It was beautiful.

Now it’s been a few weeks of very purposeful language choices. Asking to borrow his mobile to make a call, or to wear his hoodie. And you’ll admit the ‘pip pip cheerio’ as he left the bunker earlier had been excessive. That isn’t even a real thing people say.

You’ve been torturing the poor guy with British slang. And because this isn’t the first time you’ve taken a joke too far, you’d usually hold your hands up and apologise. You’re good at apologising. He likes when you have to apologise because you always make it worth his while.

The problem is, biscuit had been an honest-to-god slip of the tongue. It had been the most natural word for your brain to conjure and so his anger seems a tad unjustified. Utterly out of proportion.

“It’s a biscuit.” You repeat as you take a bite, noticing the way his left eye seems to twitch at the crunch.

“It’s a cookie. It says right there on the packet. It’s a fucking sandwich cookie.” He points at the ripped plastic on the table for emphasis.

You sigh with the kind of effort that forces all the air from your lungs. “This country can’t spell half the time, why should I trust the packet?”

“Because you’re eating from it.”

He’s got you on a technicality. And he knows it. He knows it by the telling pause before you speak and the flash of panic in your eyes.

“So?”

It’s not an argument that’s going to win world-class debates but you couldn’t go ahead and let him have the last word.

Dean's problem now is he thinks he’s got you on the ropes, so he goes and gets cocky. He puffs out his chest a little and bites back a smirk.

“So? So… cookies and milk is as American as apple pie-”

“Invented by the Dutch.”

“-whatever. It’s a thing. Which means you gotta sit down, shut up and drink your fucking milk.”

You always love it when he does that. Argues his way to a conclusion whether he’s right or not. It’s kind of ridiculously hot.

Or at least that’s how you justify putting your half-eaten biscuit down. Slowly rising from your chair and crawling onto his lap. You lean in, slow enough to tease him, letting your breath settle over his skin as you whisper in his ear. “I know a way we could settle this.”

“What’re you doing?” He manages between teeth that are grinding against each other. The muscles in his arms are tense where he’s pulling at the rope that holds him.

Any other night and you might calm him down at this point. Remind your good boy that he shouldn’t hurt himself. Or depending on the game you’d remind him who he belongs to, who he’s foolishly directing his anger towards. But there’s no soothing touches or harsh reminders bestowed upon Dean tonight. This game is different. This is a battle for dominance, unlike one you’ve played before.

For the first time, he wants to win as much as you do.

There’s no mutual satisfaction in the room because you’re both out for blood. Where blood equals being right about snack goods. And unfortunately for Dean, he didn’t figure it out before he let you tighten the ropes around his wrists.

“I thought that was obvious, baby. I wanted something sweet.”

His eyes flick between the glass of milk he’d seen you carry in and the cookies plated up beside it. Well, you’d call them biscuits but that’s not what this argument is about.

“Don’t you dare.” There’s a threat in his voice.

For a moment it surprises you and you’re quick to counter him, “I’ll do what I like.” Your tone is reminder enough for him to remember his place.

He retreats a little, gives an inch so that you can take a mile. A breath rattles through his chest doing little to calm his tightly wound body. At the very least, he switches anger for desperation. Dean knows you love it when he pleads, “please Princess. Please, I’m begging you. Dunk it.”

Your entire body glows a little when he calls you by your name. The change in his attitude only urges you onwards though, with a smirk turning up the corners of your mouth.

Your hand finds a treat, fingers picking it up with deliberate, delicate movements. His eyes are wide as he watches you hover the biscuit over the glass as if maybe you’ll appease him. The whimper he lets out when you bypass the drink is almost fulfilling enough that you’re no longer hungry. Almost.

The room takes on an eerie silence as you part your lips and take a bite. A loud, crunchy bite. Crumbs fall onto the table beneath you—probably in slow motion— and chewing only seems to increase the volume.

“Son of a bitch.” He mutters as you swallow, “you’re crazy.”

You hadn’t planned on it but you walk across the room then, half a biscuit in your hand and a satisfied smile on your face. He’s slumped in his chair a little. He’s defeated since he knows he won’t defeat the knots keeping him in place.

“Come on, try it for me.”

“Go to hell.”

It's your turn to roll your eyes, “don’t be so dramatic, you’ve been to hell. This can’t be that bad.”

As you reason with him, you slide into his lap again, which will be torture enough because he can’t touch you. Except you also hold the biscuit to his lips.

“Please. For me. Be my good boy.” You coo as if you're not toying with him.

His thighs twitch beneath you at the use of his nickname and, because he’s always your good boy, he opens his mouth.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer

[sarissophori]

Hither Yonder, Chapter 13

The Mistress of Dordinnium

Halli and Noma retraced their way through the trees valley, coming again to the fortress by the mountains. The child-wraith from before made no second appearance. Putting the northern spur behind them, they found the Valos flowing west in docile curves, turning inexorably south some miles away. They walked among the many small groves strung along the banks, reaching out with their roots, their trunks bent toward the water. Halli felt protected by the trees, going casually on as the mountains slowly shrank and Tarmaril’s mid-plains opened before them, thick with grass. Even Noma relaxed her guard after a few days of unhindered pace, supposing, with Halli, that the worst was put behind them.

      After seven day’s travel, as Hirumir said, Halli and Noma came to the southern coast-lands. The midnight wind carried a vague scent of salt from the unseen ocean. The moon, waxing to full, shone a pallid light on flat, bare fields removed from the pleasant greens of the higher plains. Here stretched the sprawling rock-flats of the Southern Roughs, a series of broken hills by the Grayrim’s lower arm, battered by the Bay of Arlon into beaches of gravel and dull quartz.

      There was a prominent hill by the shoreline, arching like a great frown in the dark. On and about it were the remains of a large city, its towers, domes and halls ghosts of their former splendor, skeletal in decay, eroded to brittleness. Clustered around were homes, markets and forums of marble, now grim and weather-stained. This imposing corpse was Dordinnium, a bygone center of commercial and military power of the Imperium, second only to the capital. Destroyed by the wrath of gods, gutted by the zeal of demons, Dordinnium stood as a monument of woe never to be rebuilt, a grand necropolis with only traces of its former beauty.

      Even the fields outside the city were crowded with refuse. Half-buried columns and arches gouged the ground, leaning at angles away from the coast, or were strewn across the landscape like the bones of a giant. Cutting through the empty villas and parks was a track, obviously tended to, that wound with the Valos beside, and past, Dordinnium, seeming to intentionally bend away from the hill, not even falling within its shadow. Halli and Noma warily walked this track, trusting it to be a sure way, if still treading as quietly as possible. Halli lit no torch, and kept her ranger’s cloak wrapped about her. Except for their own footfall and heartbeat, the night was dead silent.

      “Smell anything?” Halli whispered.

      “No” Noma said. “Any lanterns?”

      “Not yet.”

       “What if we are mistaken for demons?”

      “First, we thank them for finding us” Halli said. “Then, we beg them not to shoot us.”

      “Ah, a fine plan.”

      Then, as if on chance, a light appeared ahead of them on the track, bobbing in the dark with an unseen carrier as it went off into the ruins.

      “There!” Halli said. “A lantern, did you see?”

      “Briefly” Noma said.

      “Hurry, before we lose it!”

      They ran after it, following where they saw the lantern go and leaving the track behind. The light bounced along an old street and turned a corner, moving further away from them. Halli and Noma would get close, then the lantern would flee, keeping within sight but not within reach, and Halli was loathe to call out or draw attention to herself. Remembering what Hirumir said about the ruins, Halli looked back to the track and hesitated.

      “This is a bad idea.”

      “I agree” Noma said. “We should return to the road, quickly.”

      “We should.”

      They turned around, only to be stopped by a sudden, weighted dread. The shadows on the field were moving, rippling over the stone, closing them in. A low noise came from them, like a slow intake of air, rising to a harsh gasp. Noma’s hackles were raised, and Halli’s hairs stood on end.

      The shadows reached for them and they ran, going the only way they could go, deeper into Dordinnium. They found and followed a wide street that led to a marketplace with dry fountains. On the far side was a vine-covered temple once crowned with a silver dome, where the lantern light was waiting, loitering by the steps. It bounced up to the covered porch, illuminating old pious statues on their pedestals, and hovered by the doors left conveniently ajar.

      Halli and Noma sprinted across the marketplace and up the steps, outrunning the shadows reaching for them. A hand waved them in from the doors, and a woman stood aside as they rushed past, entering the temple’s vast inner sanctum. The doors were shut quickly and loudly, locked with a heavy bolt. The woman sighed.

      “Fear not, child. You are safe here, under my protection. Be at ease.”

      “Thank you, lady” Halli said, slumping down beside the lantern, letting her cloak and roll-kit thud to the floor.

      The woman, a priestess of white and silver garb, dove a cup into a vase of water and gave it to Halli.

      “I am Saqina, keeper of the old faith before the Imperium. And you, child?”

      “I am Halli, and this is Noma.”

      Noma lay down panting, making no attempt to speak.

      “A pleasure” Saqina said, bowing slightly.

      “How safe are we here?” Halli said.

      “Very. This is a hallowed place, and cannot be intruded or defiled.”

      She sat down beside Halli. “Which means you will be spending the night with me, I fear.”

      “I’ve slept in worse places” Halli said, taking a drink. “I saw your lantern, and trusted I should follow it. I’m glad I did.”

        “Perhaps if you were uncloaked, I would have seen you and led you from Dordinnium. How came you by such a thing, anyway?”

      “It was given to me at Annai Ostirgod by their ranger-captain. He said it would help hide me from unfriendly eyes.”

      “Not under moonlight” Saqina said. “A cloak may hide you, but not your shadow. Your smell, also, may have given you away.”

      Noma made a series of short quick pants, as if she were laughing, though neither Halli nor Saqina were sure.

       “That is why our patrols exist” Saqina said. “It is our duty to guide and protect those who travel our lands –the few that do.”

      Halli saw a strange look in the priestess’s eyes, a gleam, and her lip curled almost imperceptibly at its corners into something other than a smile, if for an instant. She dismissed it as a trick of the lantern light.

      “Forgive me for noticing” Saqina said. “Your skin is dark, and your name is foreign to me. Be you of Tarmaril?”

      “Hanan.”

      “Truly?” Saqina leaned in closer. “It is long since any of the Hinterlands came across the mountains. We almost forget that there are other countries beyond our borders.”

      She lowered her voice to a whisper, putting her lips to Halli’s ear.

      “You must be very tired after your long journey through those haunted peaks, slinking down from the valleys to the coasts as you have, to be lost in these ruins. Yes, very tired.”

      Halli’s eyes fluttered, and her head began to nod. “A little.”

      “It is perfectly alright, dear” Saqina said. “You are safe with me, till the sunrise. Fear no nightly noises, nor sigh in the dark. The lantern will keep them at bay, and I will watch over you. Slip away into pleasing dreams, far from mortal troubles of the waking world, sleep.”

      She put her hand on Halli’s forehead and guided her to rest, a soothing touch, warm and motherly. Halli gave no resistance. The urge to do as the voice instructed compelled her, and her limbs slackened at its insistence.

      “Sleep…”

      Noma leapt and barked at Saqina, forcing her back in surprise, her hands out as a shield against her teeth. Noma stood rigid and growled.

      “Keep off of her, demon!”

      Halli shook her head, fighting the spell. “What happened? What came over me?”

      “Beware, Halli” Noma said. “This woman is not as she seems. She looks human, but her words carry a magic no bipedal has. She is unnatural.”

      “Unnatural?” Halli saw the dismay on Saqina’s face, the fear from unprovoked aggression, and it blunted Noma’s claim. Her protectiveness was almost disturbing while the dregs of the sleep-spell lingered.

      “What is she, then?”

      Noma sniffed at her, and Saqina’s frightened stare began to narrow under scrutiny.

      “I cannot say. She understands me at least, though she tries to hide it. She is ancient, insidious, an imitation of life so she may infiltrate it and feed upon it; a former thrall of Tarmaril, I guess. How close is my mark, priestess?”

      Saqina said nothing, feigning dumbness of Noma’s speech to fool Halli at the last. Her stare, however, flickered with a hidden malice.

      “Now I can smell it” Noma said. “The falseness of her blood, like a whiff of smoke in a meadow. She is a demon.”

      Saqina laughed, deciding finally to end her charade and allow her malevolence to reveal itself.

      “Your mutt’s nose and deduction are keen. Yes, I understand her. Had I known her to be of the tainted wolf-kind I would have separated her from you, but she is off the mark on one detail: I am far worse than any ordinary demon.”

      Saqina threw her robes aside and changed her shape, revealing a body pale as corpse flesh, hair dark as raven feathers, and red gleaming eyes slit as a snake’s. Her brow was crowned with sinuous horns. Halli’s heart stopped a full beat, and she was frozen; only Noma growling beside her snapped her out of her terror-stance, though a cold sweat ran down her backside.

      Noma jumped to attack, but a clawed hand smacked her to the floor, knocking her senseless.

      “Noma!”

      Saqina turned to Halli. “And you, my dear, sweet girl…it has been ages since I have tasted human meat, human flesh. Oh, how I missed it.”

      Halli screamed and threw her roll-kit at her. Saqina swatted it away and moved towards her in a glide.

      “Just a bite, child. The darkness will embrace you soon enough.”

      Halli’s knees buckled, her breath becoming short. Fear seized her critical mind and her hand, on instinct, felt for her sword.

      “G –get away—”

      She drew her blade in a frantic swing, its mirror sheen reflecting the moon.

      “Get away from me!”

      Saqina recoiled, rather abruptly, flinching as if stung, hissing sharply.

      “That is a…ragh, curse that steel!”

      Halli slashed at the air, forcing Saqina back, and ran to where Noma lay.

      “Noma, Noma?”

      “I’m alright” Noma said, shaking her head. “Watch yourself, not me.”

      Saqina recovered her senses and lunged at them, screaming, only to back down again, snarling as Halli raised her sword.

      “Hash, curse it!”

      Halli wondered at the reaction as she pressed it, seeing that somehow, her blade pained this demon with a burn that smote her otherworldly fabric. She knew now why Hirumir entrusted to her such a precious gift.

      “I will run you through, demon, if touch either of us again!”

      Halli spoke boldly, fighting to check the tremble in her hands so the point wouldn’t shake, betraying the fear welling in her chest and tightening her throat; her courage hanging by a thread, she held her own before Tarmaril’s oldest evil.

      “Oblivion on those throngs” Saqina spat. “And the priest-smiths who forged them, agath gushak.”

      “Oblivion on you, if you don’t let us go!” Halli said. “Out of our way!”

       Saqina glowered. “You could threaten me with the finest Thang Ungari made for the last king himself, it matters not, if you lack the skill to wield it.”

      “A desperate swing may still find a mark.”

      Halli and Noma stood their ground. Saqina grimaced, tempering her anger, doubting her next action. Her prey was no longer unwary, but willing to fight and deny her an easy feast. In her famished state, she decided to switch her tact.

      “Think you delivered from me because of this blade, or clever because of its sudden reveal? Fools. Even if you could cow me, you cannot escape the wraiths of Dordinnium. The night is still on high. You have no chance for survival, except through me.”

      “What mean you?” Halli said.

       “I am their mistress” Saqina said. “All things here obey me, bound to my every command. Did you truly believe this temple protected by the gods? My will alone holds them back. That being said, I propose a compromise.”

      “From you?”

      “It is clear that none of us has an advantage over the other” Saqina said, never-minding, of course, the hordes of wraiths waiting on her call.

      “Hunger has made me hasty. Continuing this would benefit no one, so I suggest something more civilized: a contest of wit, a game of riddles; three turns for you, three turns for me. Whoever guesses the most correctly wins. If it is you and your mutt, I will allow you to leave Dordinnium unmolested, no tricks.”

      “If we lose?” Halli said.

      Saqina clacked her teeth. “Need you ask?”

      Halli knew she didn’t really have another option, but didn’t accept outright. Every legend ever told of demons warned to be wary of their compromises. Wariness indeed gripped her.

      “Noma?”

      “Well” Noma said. “Either we fight her and strand ourselves in a ruin of starving wraiths, or we accept and risk losing, or we accept and win, and risk a double-cross.”

      “There will be none, you have my word” Saqina said. “I will avoid the bite of both steel and fang, if I can. One does not survive the ages solely on treachery.”

      Halli sheathed her sword, keeping her hand on its hilt. “How do we begin this game?”

      “On my turn” Saqina said. Her eyes glinted.

         Sitting, sitting, all alone

       Knitting quite the yarn

       A lonely maid who never shuns company

       To admire her tapestry

       Do stop by sometime

       For a bite, and a drink

 “Sitting, knitting, a tapestry…” Halli said. “A bite, a drink…a spider!”

      Saqina laughed. “So it is, very good! The first is always the easiest. The turn is yours, dear.”

      Dread gripped Halli’s spine. She had no riddles at the ready, nor did any readily come to her. After a painful silence, Halli rambled off:

         Fat in summer and thin in winter

       I wear coats of emerald, ruby and amber

       I sway without knees

       I wave without hands

       I sigh without breath

 “A tree” Saqina said. “I appreciate you going easy on me, but you must do better if you want to win. My turn again.”

         My wit may be sharp or blunt

       I may be straightforward

       Or curve around the issue

       But I always prove my point

       More so when words fail me

 Sharp or blunt, straight or curved, a point when words fail? Could it be?

      “Wait, wait…a sword!” Halli said. So far, the demon’s riddles weren’t too difficult to guess.

      “Clever girl” Saqina said. “You are better at this than you seemed. Give me your second riddle, then.”

      After a thought, Halli said:

         Stars fall from heaven

       Under the Hunter’s Belt

       Mourning death and passing

       With a shining shroud

       Till scooped by the Plough

 Saqina pressed her hand to her chin. “Hmmm…stars fall from heaven under the Hunter’s Belt, till scooped by the Plough…ah, the constellations! That mourn death and passing with a shining shroud…”

      She honed in on the answer, and smiled. “Winter.”

      “Yes” Halli said, her confidence withered by Saqina’s quickness. She beamed, and said:

         It hurts you without hitting

       It sets you free without key

       Forsook by liar

       Pursued by philosopher

       Championed by commoner

       Indifferent to king

 Halli’s mind drew a blank, working out the riddle with the speed of feet trudging through mud. She knew the answer was plain, deceptively so, though it eluded her, and the silence lengthened. Oh, it lengthened. Saqina crossed her arms.

      “You better hurry. I have already given you more time that was generous.”

      “Then have your answer” Noma said. “Hurts without hitting? Sets free without key? The Nosi had a saying, a lie is a bind waiting for truth to cut it. Rather similar, isn’t it? Liar’s bane, philosopher’s pursuit, commoner’s champion, king’s indifference…the answer, demon, is truth.”

      Saqina clicked her tongue, restraining her vulgarity.

      “The girl must decide, not you. Be that your choice? The mutt could be wrong, and you have only one guess.”

      “And a good guess it is” Halli said. “Truth.”

      Saqina’s lip curled. “So. It. Is. But the game is still on. Give me your final riddle, and be aware that failure to think of one forfeits you and assures my victory.”

      Nothing new came to Halli, rushed or poor. Her wit found the end of its road very much as it looked she had, the doom of the moment knotting her stomach and dotting her brow with sweat. She gripped her sword tightly, pressing the scabbard against her trouser leg and the map folded up inside –then, with a flash of thought, Halli said:

         I am land and sea, but not land and sea

 “Is that it?” Saqina said. “That is your riddle? Hragh, folly! It is improper, I refuse to count it!”

      “It’s as proper as any” Halli said. “Answer it, if you aren’t afraid to.”

      “Afraid? Petulance.”

      Saqina wavered in her glide, debating herself.

      “Land and sea, but not…a reflection, a mirror?”

      The glow of her eyes was dulled in deep thought, and she fell quiet. Halli held her breath, counting the beats of her heart in anticipation, waiting, waiting in the dark. Saqina stopped all movement, hanging still as a graven image, terrible yet worshipful as the moon cast an eerie glow about her curving horns. The air felt slowed by her ponderings, contemplative at first, then heated as her inner wrath stimulated its vibration.

      “This is no riddle, it is a cheap ploy to win! I disqualify it on those grounds!”

      “If you cannot answer it, then say so” Noma said. “There is no need or use for anger this far into a game willingly played.”

      “Mongrel!” Saqina said. “Speaking for the brat to defend this farce. What is the answer then, pray tell?”

      “Do you forfeit?” Halli said.

      “Sure” Saqina said flatly. “I have been bested. What could it possibly be?”

      Halli reached into her trouser pocket and unfolded what she held for all to see.

      “A map!”

      Saqina grinned, then laughed. “Of course, how simple! A shame I must discount it.”

      “What?” Halli said. “That’s not fair, you gave your word!”

      “I did, but you did not, and tried to take advantage of it. You failed to make a proper riddle, and all of your turns are spent. You lose, my dear.”

      Shadows in the sanctum moved. Dark things slithered along the arches, dragged by long thin arms with curling fingers, staring through sockets of empty eyes, wells of deepest ink. Halli drew her sword against Saqina, who flinched, but didn’t falter. Noma turned and faced the wraiths crowding them in, growling.

      “This is what happens to those who try to cheat a victory from me” Saqina said as the lantern dimmed, then went out. The wraiths bellowed, and surged.

      An arrow flew, straight and true, whistling across the gulf of the open dome, deflected by a quick reflex and Saqina’s vambrace. Out sprang a figure wearing a Tarmarillian cloak, throwing it back so the phial about his neck would shine, brilliant as a fallen star. He ran into the fray, holding the phial aloft and bathing the sanctum in a radiant blue. The wraiths recoiled and slid away, wailing in pain and dismay, until the temple in whole was clean of them. Halli shielded her eyes from its brightness. Saqina remained, taking the burn on her inhuman flesh with an anger barely restrained. The figure stopped before Halli and Noma, spun on his heel, strung another arrow, and aimed it at Saqina’s heart.

       He was a youth, older than Halli but not yet come to manhood, pale-skinned and gray-eyed as all his people. Saqina was familiar with him, if surprised by his interference, and again checked her rage. Gritting her teeth, she spoke softly.

      “Ianan, why have you come like this, throwing in your lot with this foreign wretch and her insolent little pet? What be the purpose?”

      “To stay your gluttony, mistress” Ianan said. “You shan’t consume the flesh or blood of living human beings, as agreed upon by the Truce –or have you forgotten?”

      “Indeed not” Saqina said. “I was the one who agreed to it, with the greatest ancestor of your line, no less; that no Tarmarillian man, woman or child would be prey to the hunger of demon or wraith, as long as offerings were given. This girl is not Tarmarillian, and so falls beyond the bounds of that agreement. It is your duty, as son of the consulate, to honor the Truce as I have. Step aside.”

      “Nor is this girl a calf for your appetite” Ianan said. “That is enough for me.”

      “Then you abandon the wisdom of your forebears” Saqina said. “Two hundred years of peace, is that for you to throw away? Do you alone get to doom your people in rashness, as it runs in your accursed race? What would your father say of this?”

      “The same.” Ianan held his bow taut and unafraid, protected from her by the Truce earned and overseen by his family, a thing fair enough, but he was using it to defend this outsider and her dog in a direct violation of that agreement, as Saqina judged it. Even so, under the mounting fight against her, her wraiths demoralized, and the combined burn of sword and phial, the mistress of Dordinnium humbled her indignation, her wrath, and bowed to the change of fortune decidedly not in her favor.

      “The scion has spoken” she said. “The Truce is broken. Prepare yourselves. You have until the full moon.”

      Saqina vanished into the dark, taking her oppressive airs with her. Halli exhaled softly, and Noma lowered her hackles.

      The phial dimmed. Ianan slung his bow.

      “Be not lulled. This is safety in its barest sense, with worse in store. We must go to the coast. Grab your things and come with me.”

[bernardhiking]

The “Wild” Great Wall of China

Date of hike: April 23, 2017

Country: China

Region: Hebei Province

Trailhead: Jinshanling

End point: Gubeikou

Distance: 15 km (10 miles)

Elevation difference: 230 floors up (iPhone stat)

This trip offers spectacular views of Great Wall snaking around into the far distance. Wild sections show the power of nature to reclaim even the strongest man-made structures over time. A place laden with history (and with the occasional snake).

This is the first time I can remember that I ever hired a guide to go on a hike . When you hike on a World Heritage site like the Great Wall, you don’t just go there to set one foot in front of the other and snap some pretty pictures. You want to get a feel for the history and the culture that has given rise to this amazing structure. A good guide can provide lots of context to make the encounter with this landmark more meaningful and your visit more respectful. One may say that a guide also makes for a safer trip, and indeed, there are portions along the “wild” wall where erosion has left just a narrow pathway, although I would not say that any of those sections were any more treacherous than your regular alpine excursion over snow fields and across loose scree slopes. But since the Wall is today literally a fractured structure with reconstructed and completely wild sections abutting each other, and with the occasional off-limits portions of the Wall interrupting continuous travel, you really need some local knowledge to navigate. Also, it is wonderfully convenient to have a car pick you up at your hotel in Beijing drive you to the starting point of your hike (2 hours one way), then pick you up at the endpoint many miles away. We used greatwallhiking.com for our arrangements, and we were fully satisfied with all their services.

Anybody who has ever visited the Great Wall at one of the popular, conveniently located visiting spots near Beijing knows how hard it is to enjoy the experience. On good weather days, especially during weekends, places like Badaling are so overrun with tourists, you think you are caught up in a mad stampede. So, imagine our joy, when after about a 40 minutes climb from the parking lot at Jinshanling, we reached the Great Wall and…we were alone! 

To the north, we looked toward the fabled section of the wall at Simatai where the already amazing Wall does the near impossible and scrambles up a steep razor thin ridge, dotted with square watch towers. 

This stretch of the Wall is so amazing that developers have bought the land at its base and turned the whole place into a five-star resort complete with (fake) “watertown.” To juxtapose this craggy section of the Great Wall with a water town is a bit like pairing the Cote d’Azure with the Matterhorn. Water towns belong in the flat-as-pancake Yangtze River Delta. Anyway, the developers of the “Gubei Water Town Resort” obviously purchased the rights to the views of the Simatai section of the Great Wall along with the land around it, for they closed off the previously accessible stretch of the Wall from West Simatai to Jinshanling. So, nowadays, the hike starts a little further down toward the destination at Gubeikou. 

After we first joined the Wall near Jinshanling, we could have proceeded another five or six watchtowers toward Simatai to take in the views from there, but it was a one-way trunk of accessible Wall, and we would have needed to backtrack again all to the way to where we were. Instead, we started directly in the direction of Gubeikou. We had no regrets, for the scene was definitely good enough: bright, sunny skies, and an empty wall snaking into the far distance where the hills met the sky...

The first few kilometers of our hike were very enjoyable. Here the Wall was only half-restored, which means it still had the integrity of a solid wall with some of the battlements standing and others missing, while also showing distinct signs of wear-and-tear, as well as bearing quite a few battle scars. One of the most astonishing things I learned from our guide, Yaxin, was that the Wall had been used militarily even after it had ceased to be permanently manned and maintained at the end of the Ming dynasty, hundreds of years ago. The Japanese did particularly grave damage to it in 1933, during their occupation of China. During a fierce battle right here in the Gubeikou section of the Wall, the Japanese had shelled this World Heritage Site in many places to break the Chinese resistance, destroying many of the iconic watchtowers and breaching the wall in several places.

After about 2 hours, we started to meet an increasing amount of people, streaming up toward us from the parking lot at Zhuanduokou. At this stretch, the wall was almost perfectly restored. The combination of crowds and brand-new looking watchtowers with smooth pavement to walk on made us speed up to leave this stretch behind us as soon as possible. 

Fortunately, fewer visitors were interested in the southern branch of the Wall from the Zhuanduokou pass; so, about one kilometer after the parking lot, we were almost alone again, as we walked on a broken, partially crumbling wall. 

Here we reached a blocked section, where the People’s Liberation Army of China had closed off several kilometers of Wall. It was almost noon now, and from the crest of the ridge, we could see a small settlement in the valley where we would be getting our lunch. Yaxin was already on his cell phone with the owners, alerting them that we were ahead of schedule. Seems we were fitter than average.

The trail down into the valley was treacherous. In fact, both Lyra and our guide slipped repeatedly on the steep sections covered in loose dirt which made it seem like we were walking on ball bearings. Yaxin had lost his hiking pole along the way, probably while he was taking pictures of us. So, he needed to cut a branch to help with the descent. The path had been worn to a smooth slippery surface by the Great Wall Marathon that had led through here just a week ago. It was inconceivable how people would have managed this stretch running, and I can only imagine how many people tumbled on the steep hill here. Anyway, we arrived safely at the farm house which did not have running water and sported, somewhat bashfully tucked into one corner, the sanitary sign board giving the establishment a “C” rating. 

Lyra and I exchanged a meaningful glance, but we agreed that when near the wild Great Wall, we should do as Ming personnel would have done five hundred years ago and just slurp the broth without batting an eyelid. As it turned out, we got a lot more than broth. In fact, what was served from the simple kitchen here was first-rate, home-cooked, authentic, MSG-free, delicious food. 

We had omelette, stir-fried cauliflower, celery with thinly sliced pork, and a cold dish with slliced bean curd skin, as well as plenty of cold beer. The sun and dry north China wind had parched us pretty good. Big, cold bottles of local Yanjing Beer were just what the doctor ordered for our condition.

Fortified by this break, we set out again on the dirt path, ascending from the farmhouse in a line roughly parallel to the wall, which provided a constant skyline. It was lovely to see the wild Great Wall from a more distant vantage point, instead of standing directly on it. At one point, the clouds threw a patchwork blanket of light and shade across hills that were flecked with the fresh green of budding beech trees. Magical. 

45 minutes after leaving the farmhouse, we rejoined the wall at a five-window tower (this means the walls on the side are wide enough to accommodate five windows in a row). While our guide and Lyra were resting in the shade of the tower, I proceeded a few hundred meters further down the wall to where it was blocked off, and it was at this point that I almost stepped on a snake of a good 1.5 to 2 meters length. I was so startled I just stood still as it slinked away slowly. All I could think was how glistening it was, as if leathered in oil. I was slightly shocked by the thickness of its body, too. Later on, Lyra blamed me for not taking a picture. I explained that when crossing paths with a substantial snake, snapping pics is not the first thing that comes to my mind. But anyway, a few kilometers further down the Wall, we ran into a second snake, slightly smaller but the same kind, still glistening wetly in the sunlight, as it lay curled by the side of the path. 

If we needed proof that this stretch of the wall was infrequently visited, the critter was tangible evidence of it. Indeed, we were quite alone now. As far as the eye could see, the crumbly, mud colored wall was snaking along the landscape with nary a person in sight. This was the kind of “wild” wall I had always wanted to experience. Serious bucket list stuff! 

It was quite amazing to observe the effect that time had wrought on the wall here. At places, it felt more like hiking on a slightly raised earthen mound rather than on the marvel of Ming dynasty engineering. 

In these sections, the Wall had been mellowed and humbled by the passing of the centuries (not to mention the impact of belligerent armies). It was quite meditative to walk on this artifact, having the amazing, aged, world historical landmark all to oneself. Compared to the earlier sections in the morning, there were none of the brutally steep sections here. Mostly, the wall was meandering at modest elevations through a hilly landscape. 

Just as we reached a section where the wall had been completely eroded away and an auxiliary set of steps had been built next to it, our hike suddenly came to an end. The parking lot was a mere 10 minutes away, and so, with slight regret, for we still did have some reserve energy left, we stepped off the Wall and started our descent toward the parking lot. As a last order of business, our guide had prepared a little makeshift “graduation ceremony” for us, writing out a brace of certificates testifying to the fact that we had hiked on the Great Wall from Jinshanling to Gubeikou and attesting, with reference to Mao Zedong, that we both now qualified as “real men.” The “Great Helmsman” had famously stated that a visit to the Great Wall was was requisite to graduate from the great unwashed (or something like that ;-) ).

We had been very lucky that day, being blessed with extraordinarily pleasant weather and good long-distance sight. Only one week later, a vicious dust storm descended on the Chinese capital, shrouding it and all its environs in a blanked of sand and smog. This would have made the hike far more unpleasant, if not impossible. So, after all is said and done, this was a middle distance hike with some significant altitude difference but with a sight-seeing factor that was so off-the-charts, we did not even feel we had hiked 15 km and climbed 230 floors in the process. The magnificent scenery had distracted us from focusing at all on the physical component of this hike.