#feeding people after traumatic events is a big thing I enjoy so there's a fair amount of that

[taoofshigeru]

A Cure for Joy but Not for Silence (Castti x Malaya)

A take on Castti/Ochette's crossed path where a confluence of magic brings back a familiar face. Trauma is still around, but so is love and comfort. Temenos and Osvald are also there. (2000 words)

-----

As Ochette called upon a bevy of trees, frogs, and axe-wielding tree frogs to beat back the shadow, a cleric and a scholar watched from a safe distance.

The purple light surrounding the ominous, writhing tentacle seemed familiar to the inquisitor. It took him a few moments for the hunch to turn into a connection.

Just when Castti and Ochette were starting to venture deeper into the woods, he took their colossal scholar by the arm. "Osvald, a word, if I may…"

Watching Castti treat the wounds on the duorduor turned that connection into a near-certainty. He grimaced. Then he thought of something. "Castti, you still have several phials of that cure mixed up."

She blinked. "Yes, why?"

He nodded towards the depths of the woods. "I very much doubt this is the last beast in these woods we'll see that's in need of treatment. May I borrow one?"

She nodded, and handed him the phial, which he tucked into his tunic.

They hastened on ahead into the woods. It should have been daylight, but it was dimmer than dusk.

A few steps further ahead, they were all engulfed in darkness.

…

As the scholar wandered further into the woods, he found himself hearing a voice that sounded like deep, raspy dusk. "Poor, pitiful Osvald. Lost your wife, you could never protect her."

"Why?" Osvald replied flatly. "Rita's death was Harvey's fault. I did everything I could, and now Elena is safe."

"Ah, but you're failing your daughter. Not there for her in this fragile recovery period. If only you had more power…" The voice trailed off.

"Why?" He didn't seem the least bit bothered. "Temenos is a high-ranking church official, and he was there when Harvey confessed to his crimes. Very likely I'll be exonerated within the year."

"…" The voice paused for just a moment. "Doesn't it ever make you curious, what it was that Harvey found at the end of his research? The true seventh source?"

"Why?" The scholar continued walking. He didn't even miss a step. "Whatever it was was clearly of an inferior grade to my own love for my adorable daughter."

"…" The pause was slightly longer this time. "Think of the possibilities of untapped sources of magic. Knowledge, wealth, half of the world, it could all be yours!"

"Why," His scruffy beard concealed the faintest hint of a smirk. "I don't really see what you're getting at."

…

"Couldn't protect them. Couldn't protect Jörg, or Roi, not even Crick." The voice in the darkness spoke to the cleric, mocking him. "You slept in bed as your wayward lamb walked his way to the slaughter."

Temenos grimaced. For all his outward confidence, this particular subject was not something he enjoyed being reminded of. "And I made examples of those responsible." That didn't mean he didn't have a retort ready. "And I aim to do the same to you."

"To me?" The voice boomed with laughter. "Why, you misunderstand me. I'm here to help you. To help give you power for your revenge."

"Revenge against who, exactly?" Temenos fixed on a point in the darkness that seemed to glow brighter than all the rest. Then he started walking. "This isn't the same puerile ploy you pulled on Kaldena, I hope? Inflicting tragedy and offering the power to get revenge against the enemy of her true enemy?"

"Kaldena was a fool." The darkness scoffed back at him. "You're clearly much too wise to fall for the petty ruse that worked on her."

"Oh, so that was you?" He responded with a dry wit. "I was going off a hunch. So, in a sense, I do appreciate the courtesy in your confirming my suspicions."

The darkness went silent, for a moment. Then, "How did you know?"

"I doubt. It's what I do." He winked at the point, which was growing brighter by the moment, then broke into a full sprint. "And you made it easy."

"YOU-!!" Humor was gone from the voice now, replaced by inhuman, primal rage.

"SACRED EFFULGENCE!!" He heaved his staff into the point of dark purple light, and the illusion shattered.

…

The cleric and the scholar found themselves standing on an endless lake of grey. Osvald was the first to notice Ochette and Castti were there next to him, facing off against what looked like dozens of the same writhing purple fragments of darkness Ochette had beaten back earlier.

Temenos was a hair slower, on account of the plum he had shoved down his throat. But the glow of his light magic hit one of the writhing curses incarnate just before it could strike at Ochette from behind.

Together, the four travelers made quick work of the gruesome attacker. Soon, the tendrils were in full retreat, but one lingered for just a moment.

That was long enough for Ochette. "Oh no you don't! RAWR!!" She bit into the darkness itself, and her fangs sunk deep.

That was as much time as they needed. "Now, Osvald!" He grabbed the phial of cure out from his tunic and tossed it in the scholar's direction.

A gruff, solemn chant had began even before the thin cylinder of glass was tumbling through the air. "This is! THE ANSWER!!" Osvald blasted the phial with the One True Magic (II), and the beam shot out towards the tentacle. Ochette jumped away just in time. So hasty was her jump that she did not, for once, land gracefully.

In the time it took for that attack to land, the rest of the tentacles, and the darkness itself, retreated. Ochette, Temenos, and Osvald were left standing beside Castti, slumped over with emotional and physical fatigue. And one other person, who had appeared exactly where the tentacle had been before Osvald had blasted it with pure, radiant spirit.

…

Castti looked up, and saw a ghost. This one wasn't wearing a wry smile, and the emaciated look was a far cry from the healthy state in which she had last seen her. But there was no mistaking those eyes. "…malaya?" It was a face she had resigned herself to never seeing again.

"It's okay, Malaya. I remember everything now, you can rest." She fumbled forward, not really understanding what was happening. "Haha, I must really be under the weather to be seeing things again." She put a hand to her forehead, laughing to hold back the tears. She felt so silly.

Ochette looked at the other woman, confused. "Mama Castti, who's this?"

A jolt of pure, stinging understanding shot through the apothecary. "You can see her?" Her head whipped around to Osvald. "Can you see her?"

He nodded. "There's a woman on the ground next to you. Dark skin, long hair. Signs of malnutrition. She's conscious."

Temenos stepped between them. "Now, wait a moment Castti, we need to be c-"

He was physically thrown off the ground as Castti dived forward like a woman possessed. She embraced the woman in a hug heavy enough to knock the wind clean out of her.

"MalayaMalayaMalayamalayamalayaOhit'syouit'sreallyyouyoudon'tknowhowmuchIhopedandprayedandafterIrememberedandeverythingandyoudidsomuchformeandIcouldn'tdoanythingforyouandIohgodsyou'realiveandhereandIcanfeelyouandIloveyousomuchandInevergottotellyoubefore*sob*, OhMalayaMalayamydearMalaya-" She didn't know where she was anymore, and she could not care. Tears and snot were spilling freely down her cheeks. Even after Temenos got up, Ochette stood, feet planted and arms out, making it very clear that he wasn't going to break up that moment.

It ended up being Malaya who pushed the apothecary away. "_,_." She opened her mouth as if to say something, but no words came out.

Osvald nodded in understanding. "You love her too, but you're hungry?"

"She's what?!" Castti's head jerked up.

Malaya winced and rubbed her stomach. "_,_!" She shook her head, smiling weakly at Castti.

"'You hugged the wind out of me, you damn mother hen.'" He gave a wry smile. "And my name is Osvald. I'm traveling together with your friend? Wife?"

"Wife!" The apothecary was the one to answer this question. "My wife is alive, I," She took another look at Malaya and her eyes widened with belated shock. "Oh gods, look at you, you're skin and bones, we need to get you some food."

"Alright, that's settled!" Ochette whipped out five sticks of jerky from her pack and handed them to Malaya, who wolfed them down and took five more before the beastling lifted her off the ground and the group began to walk back to town. Osvald, who had been the least disturbed in the confrontation with the shadow, lent Malaya his coat for warmth and let Castti lean on him for support.

"Hey Osvald, how did you know what she was saying? I couldn't even hear, and my ears are the best among us, I think?" Ochette's companion Mahina chimed in.

His gaze grew a little harder. "I learned how to read lips on Frigit Isle. It was useful for gathering information."

"Oh, I see." Ochette turned over to Malaya, who had grabbed a fistful of grapes from her pack and was downing them in groups of three. "You really are light, ma'am. Eat as much as you like."

"Wow, Ochette sharing her food. This is a special day, yes indeed." Mahina hooted jovially.

Temenos cut in between the two, voice so low that neither Castti or Malaya seemed to be able to hear. "I would like to preach caution. Whoever that woman is, she came from the shadow. And it spoke to me in there. I'm almost certain it's connected to what we've been investigating."

"Osvald, can you grab him by the cloak? With one fist? My hands're kinda full."

"M'kay." The scholar obliged, yanking the cleric down for the hunter to glare at.

Ochette hissed back, "Now listen here, you. You weren't with us when Castti went back to Healeaks for the first time. I've seen that woman rip a real live antlion in two, but that village had her shaking in a way I've never seen. And the name I kept hearing her say while we were there? 'Malaya.'" She indicated the woman held in her arms, "You can keep an eye on things, sure. But if you mess up this moment for her I'm gonna put my footprint into your rib cage."

His smile never fell the whole time she was talking. "I understand. I can leave the two of them to you, then?"

"So long as we're clear, Temmy." She bared her fangs at him.

By the time they had arrived back at the inn, it was still light outside. The sunlight seemed to give Malaya a physical boost, and Castti a mental one. The two of them sat outside on a bench, with Ochette standing nearby. She held a pouch that was seemingly still full of food and drinks, and this time Castti indulged herself in some spicy jerky. They sat there for a little while.

Castti asked the question that had been on her mind. "Do you remember me?"

Malaya nodded her head. Yes, yes I do.

"Oh, can you still not speak?" She leaned over, concerned.

She shook her head no.

"So you can't speak?"

Malaya shook her head no again.

"You don't want to speak?"

A nod, yes.

"I'm sorry, I just." Castti stopped. "There's a lot I wanted to ask. But I don't need to ask it now." She stared into those eyes, those lovely brownish-black eyes which, now that she looked closer, seemed to be carrying new, silent scars in them. "We can wait. But I do have one request." She supposed hers did too. They really would have a lot to talk about.

Malaya nodded her head.

"C, can I hold your hand?" She stumbled with that on her way out of the gate. Even so, "It's only, I just, gods! I spent this whole time imagining a version of you to help myself get through all that trauma, and I almost went and accepted you were gone." Castti fixed her eyes on those deep, familiar eyes again and "I need to feel that you're real, and next to me. Is that okay?"

Before nodding, Malaya reached out with her own hand, the one that wasn't still dismantling a pomegranate and shoving it in her face, and wrapped her fingers through Castti's own. Then she nodded. Of course, chief.

~End~

[eisforeidolon]

Episode: Breakdown

I think I've made it pretty clear I'm not exactly a fan of Davy Perez's writing.  This episode didn't change my mind about him being a hack, but I do think it was up there with his least-worst offerings.

The best thing it had going for it was that it went full out for a genuinely creepy vibe and pulled it off very well through pretty much the whole episode.  From the atmosphere of the typical cold open with the hint that our soon-to-be victim is related to somebody we know, to the creepy Preacher guy with the skeevy police record from the just-about-everybody-is-a-creep diner, to the body part auction via webcam with the dissection room at the center of the episode – it was all put together pretty well as a horror episode.  I'd be very surprised if the central concept isn't blatantly borrowed from somewhere I'm just not familiar with and the first two are standard horror tropes, true.  Still, recycling story elements is not always an inherently bad thing unless they're treated perfunctorily or shoved in places where they don't work.  This episode kept it all scary even if it's been done before, and it seems like it's been a while since we had a real dedicated creep-fest, so I did enjoy that.

It was nice to slide some decent amount of focus back onto the Winchesters in their own show as well.  There was some good banter (pancakes!)  and casework in there (though it'd be nice if the Winchesters could actually work a case together without splitting up to babysit).  Not to mention that Dean got a nice suspenseful moment of awesome in there at the climax.  As to Sam's emotional state, these guys do honestly have justification to just wallow in how much their lives suck sometimes.  Dean did it earlier this season with despondent angry angst over being stuck with Jack and the three big losses, and now after the latest attempt to save Mary failed with losing Jack again, it makes some sense for it to be Sam's turn with apathetic downer angst.  Unfortunately, the way it was written in both cases felt pretty sudden and over-the-top – J2 have done what they can to sell it, but this felt more like it was Sam's turn because it was now designated Sam's turn after they got their quota of melodrama from Dean's (and I suspect it will pass just as arbitrarily).  It's also hard to believe the writers actually care about the characters' mental and emotional states when a lot of the dialogue here felt like it was cribbed from past Winchester Angst™ speeches by rote.  Still, I'd rather have emotional moments with the characters that feel a little disingenuous and recycled than not have any focus on them and their mental states at all, which is what we have been getting too much of.  

I know Donna grates on quite a few people, but I like her well enough, and overall I liked that we got to see a more subdued version of her because she was worried over her niece.  Also unlike last week, Donna having sufficient previous experience at interrogating a suspect to be good at it is perfectly reasonable.  I liked Doug here, too, and in general the guest actors' performances were all solid (that preacher was so creepy, as was the cashier, and the one not creepy truck driver with her regrets was also great).  Although having Donna and Doug get together off-screen prior to this specifically so Doug could react like a rational person about monsters and break up with her (since hunting is soooo important to her, dontchaknow?) just for the soap angst … so much meh.  Not even to mention the part where they all seem to have just ditched a traumatized Wendy alone at the hospital to make room for it.

Unfortunately, a fair bit of the story logic in the solving of the case was typical Perez.  The victims were supposedly picked because they wouldn't be missed, but Wendy is a young woman with her own car and credit card, who may have been meeting someone, on her way to an event, supposed to check in with parents or a significant other, etc.  Dean saying Donna's niece was a cousin added an extra lie for no reason when Donna was right there and he could just as easily have said they were helping out as a favor to their friend, which was no more or less legit.  None of them question why the random creepy cashier guy who is way too blasé about watching people be cut up would be accepted as an informer for the secret monster kidnap ring, don't even consider he might be dun dun dun … a monster himself!  Sam says it would take him days to hack into the feed but the FBI would be able to do it in time, despite how absurdly small the given window of time actually is.  Not only is it questionable from a basic plausibility standpoint, even considering tv's general state of ~LOL police magic~, it's questionable the Winchesters wouldn't question how fast it gets done.  Which is bad enough, but it also doesn't raise any red flags with them when that guy just … gives them the address and doesn't say anything about insisting they wait for him?  Even though it's his big case they aren't officially part of?  That he supposedly doesn't know involves monsters?  I mean, I assume we're supposed to accept it because the Winchesters are super pressed for time and therefore distracted, but these guys are under serious pressure all the time and it was so absurdly convenient for them to not have a single iota of healthy of suspicion.  It was also incredibly convenient that they all decided to split up so that Sam was alone and could get the traditional Winchester damselling treatment.

Rounding it out, Dean just happens to have dead man's blood in his kit, for reasons!  Even though they didn't know it was going to be a monster hunt, let alone involve vampires specifically - just like the stupid random suicide kit. Gosh, I wonder what wildly improbable thing he'll pull out next week! Then, suddenly, vampire transformations can happen over any random time frame, including immediately, because why not.  I wasn't a fan of the villain monologue either, both in terms of the general cliché of monsters all around us oh noes! and how frequently we've seen monsters that simply can't control their urges.  

[vitalmindandbody]

I live a healthier life now I’m free of the trappings of modernity | Mark Boyle

Being healthy is not just physicians, ambulances and technology. I use natural methods to keep my organization in balance, writes Mark Boyle, the Guardians Life Without Technology columnist

When beings learn of my decision to reject modern complex technology in favour of older, slower, forgotten ways, their first direction of investigation typically involves healthcare. Debating the great importance to “peoples lives”, this is hardly surprising. Yet because of its emotive quality- which of us, after all, doesn’t have friends or pedigree require glasses, hearing aids, stents or prescription drugs?- it seems difficult to have a tranquilize, objective discussion on the subject.

The more concerned and strange inquirers often ask me what I would do if I got seriously ill. While the long refute is complicated and nuanced, frankly, I don’t know. It’s easy to live by your values when times are good, any more difficult when you’re having a stroke or succumbing of cancer.

One thing I can say with greater confidence is this: if we are still seeking this political dogma of mass industrialism- which has given us ambulances, dialysis machines, wheelchairs and antidepressants- is not simply will we continue to harm our physical, emotional and mental health( to move to even more people needing such things) we’ll too sweep away much of life on Earth.

Industrial civilisation, itself only 200 years old, is already effecting the sixth mass extinction of species of the last half billion years. What’s that got to do with an ambulance? Well, both nothing and everything. The ambulance itself undoubtedly saves lives( including my dad’s ). Yet deconstruct a single ambulance- with its plastics, oils, liquids, copper, acids, glass, rubber, PVC, minerals and steel- and I’ll demo you how to lay waste to the very thing all our lives depend upon: the planet.

Big picture aside, most of what afflicts us today- cancer, obesity, mental illness, diabetes, stress, auto-immune ailments, myocardial infarction, along with those slow gunmen: meaninglessness, clock-watching and loneliness- are industrial ailments. We establish traumatic, lethal, unhealthy lifestyles fuelled by sugar, caffeine, tobacco, antidepressants, adrenaline, discontent, force boozings and fast food, and then represent the political ideology that got us fixed on these events in the first place. Our sedentary enterprises further deplete our physical, emotional and mental wellbeing, but instead of candidly addressing the root cause of the illness we exert ever more exertion, force, genius and coin trying to treat the evidences and contain the epidemics.

We’ve developed Stockholm syndrome, sympathising with the very organisation that has economically impounded us hostage since the 18 th century. Industrialism, along with its partner in crime, capitalism, has even persuasion us that, in order to save ourselves and loved ones from the repugnances of infection we should spray every surface with substances, deter children’s sides out of the grunge and goo, and try to sterilise our whole world. With our immune methods endangered as a result, multi-billion-dollar pharmaceutical companies then exchange us products to fend off what our bodies should be able to fight off naturally.

In their cleverness they have even influenced us to pop analgesics for events that hardier generations would balk at. My own approaching to healthcare won’t fill the commentators, the advocates of this strange situation announced advancement that seems to have us all more accented and less content. And that’s OK; I’m not trying to tell people what to do, and I’ve got no product to sell. I share it exclusively because my writer tells me it’s the most common online inquiry.

In doing so I’m very is conscious that I’ve been sanctified to be born without any serious long-term health problems, and that at 38 I’m relatively young. That said, I’m not convinced that it’s necessary to fall into such good physical determine, as civilised publics tend to do. My father is virtually 73 and he can still repetition 150 km before dinner, plainly because he has never stopped looking after his health.

The philosophy underlying my approaching is that of any herbalist: keep the vitality in your torso strong, and be mindful to do it every day. When it leads out of affluence and into malady, use the suitable weeds- the original root of numerous industrial medications- to bring your figure and mind back into equilibrium, and to restore optimal functioning. Your person is always proposing for equilibrium and health, and listening to it is one of best available acts you can do. Illness is feedback- the sooner you heed it and reinstate your vitality, the less likely it is you’ll develop more serious problems.

I find it impossible to describe my approach to health without describing my approach to life. I wouldn’t dream of suggesting that this is a prescriptive solution for anyone else; but with the exception of a voluntary vasectomy, I haven’t seen a doctor or wet-nurse for 20 years.

I pick my own fruit and vegetables from the garden and hedgerows, and eat them as fresh, raw and unwashed as is optimal. I round 120 km each week to reservoirs and flows, where I then expend three nights of that week relaxing and catching the following day’s dinner. I work outdoors, get sweaty and soiled doing things I enjoy. I shaped the tough decision to live in the natural environment so that I could breath clean breeze, drink pure water and establish life that allows others the same. I shower with water, and water merely. I use no compounds inside or outside the members of this house. I wear as few invests as I necessitate, I use nothing electrical- no fridge , no screens , no phone. I eschew sugar, caffeine and stress like the plague.

Sleep comes and goes with the light- I find six hours of peaceful respite ample. If and when I do feel ill or out of balance, my girlfriend Kirsty( who exemplifies these articles and is educating herself herbalism) recommends a bush from our herb spot and I slowly feel vital again. She’s currently drying yarrow, horsetail, silverweed, self-heal, calendula and chamomile for the winter months.

I’ve suffered from hay fever- something becoming more common as CO 2 tiers in the atmosphere increase- since I was a child. These daytimes I ingest a handful of plantain leaves- a natural antihistamine- three or four times a day, and that sorts it. Plantain comes out just before hay fever season and goes to seed shortly afterwards, and is a common in the fissures of city pavements and lawns as it is in the countryside.

I appreciate that this may sound unrealistic to numerous. When I was driving 60 hours a week in a low-paid task in the City, 10 years ago, it did to me very. I only managed to do it by depriving away modernity’s bullshit, reading to live with the estate, and increasing my legislations down to zero. Simplicity in these times is hard won, but I’ve found that it’s worth it.

I is simply speak for myself, and I subscribe everyone’s decision to care for their health as they see fit. Eventually, we’re all going to die and I wish to go out like the American writer and conservationist Edward Abbey: by taking off to the wilderness, where wildlife can feed on my dead body just as I have done on theirs. It seems only fair.

Two events, in this regard, I find important. One is that like Henry David Thoreau formerly remarked, I do not safely contact death and” have found that I had not lived “. Second, that I don’t cling to my own fading light so desperately that I extinguish it for everything else. Like all good guests, it’s wise not to overstay your welcome.

* Such articles was written by hand and posted to an editor at the Guardian, who typed it up to go online. Get in contact with Mark Boyle, the Guardian’s Living Without Technology columnist, here or in the comments below, a selection of which will be posted to him

Read more: www.theguardian.com

The post I live a healthier life now I’m free of the trappings of modernity | Mark Boyle appeared first on vitalmindandbody.com.

from WordPress http://ift.tt/2yT8Syt via IFTTT