#giliys

[dujour13]

OC Kiss Week - day 1

For @offsidekineticist 💜 Your OCs live in my heart and the buddy cop AU lives in my head

CW: claustrophobia, disposal of disposable NPCs, non-consensual smooch, homicidal ideation

“Gil?” Siavash is crouched in the halfling-sized holding cell with his knees around his ears. “Gil! You came back for me!”

“Keep it down. Only because I know you, and you don’t do torture. A hot instrument gets within ten feet of the face and you’ll be singing like a lark. The name, address, date of birth and favorite fucking flavor of ice cream of every Bellflower in Cheliax’ll be on their list.” He finishes picking the lock and throws open the bars.

The moment his long half-elven limbs are free Siavash stretches them happily, grabs Giliys by both cheeks and kisses him square on the crown of the head. “I love you.”

“Ugh, cut that out.”

“You didn’t kill the guards did you? Would you believe one of them plays prismati? We got to chatting and—oh.”

Giliys did kill the guards. Siavash steps over the carnage, tearful eyes trained on the heavens.

“If you hadn’t spared that magistrate we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place,” grumbles Giliys, grabbing his ridiculous scarf and pulling him down behind the barrier so he can scan the hill beyond to make sure his planned escape route is still clear.

It isn’t. Even from here he can make out the glow of approaching torches: the Hellknights coming to collect this latest roundup of troublemakers.

“We’re trapped.”

“It’ll be fine.”

Giliys’ fingers twitch around the hilt of his dagger. He opens his mouth but a whisper from behind them cuts him off.

“Psst. Over here.”

It’s the magistrate, the one Siavash talked him into letting go, and who apparently turned right around and led the authorities to them. But now she’s had some kind of existential crisis and looks like she’s been crying. She unlocks the door to the storage barn. “Take the back door. I’ll distract the Hellknights.”

Siavash beams. “Thanks.”

There’s no reason to trust her, but there aren’t any other options, so Giliys grits his teeth and follows.

Later, traveling cross country in a heavy downpour but free at last, they pause to rest only a few miles from the Andoren border.

“Told you so,” says Siavash.

If Giliys’ eyes were daggers his partner would be in front of Pharasma now.

Siavash seems unfazed. “You know, if you really wanted to stop me from spilling all our secrets you didn’t have to let me out. You could have just killed me.”

Giliys raises a finger. “Don’t fucking tempt me.” But even as he says it he realizes he probably wouldn’t, even after that obnoxious and invasive display of affection, because a glib Andoren who has the favor of the goddess of luck can come in handy sometimes.

[offsidekineticist]

Whaaaaaaah? Two chapters in 1 month?!

Yeah so that 1 chapter I was agonizing over for months, the one I said was actually 2 chapters? Turns out it's actually gonna be 3 chapters.

This is how "oh this will be a five part arc, probably" turned into...*waves arms in general direction of everything.*

Heads up that there are some unusual CWs on this one, so I will make sure to put a summary of this chapter at the start of the next one if anyone needs to skip.

In the meantime, enjoy another Qweck POV!

CW: body horror, graphic burns and wounds, medical gibberish (I'm not a doctor) and medical horror, referenced mass casualty incident and serial killing

Yet Perfect

You have no time, and people are about to die. Your rage slips away, replaced with a cool calmness. You need to act quickly, efficiently, decisively. You need a plan. A checklist. 

Item One: Evacuate the building.

“FIRE!” you shout as you bolt out of the store-room. “FIRE!”

The entire shop–from customers to employees–stares at you for a moment. Then they register what you just said. Some customers head for the door, others start demanding answers, questioning whether the alarm is real.

You rush to Mori and grab her by both shoulders. “There is a fire in the back and it’s going to explode. You need to get everyone out now.”

She stares at you with wide eyes before nodding shakily and climbing onto the counter. She puts two fingers in her mouth and silences the room with a loud, shrill whistle. “Alright, folks, shop’s closed on account of it being about to explode! Please proceed to the nearest exit in an orderly fashion!”

She didn’t even finish speaking before people started rushing for the nearest exit–which wasn’t always the door. The shop was filled with the sound of breaking glass as people fled the building. Not ideal, but at least people were getting away.

“Where’s Laria?” Mori asks. Right. Laria is upstairs.

“I’ll get her. You get out of here, we’ll be right behind you.”

“Is there time for that?”

No. “There has to be. Now go. If this goes bad, the others will need someone to look after them, and you’re the only one with any sense.”

Hopefully that will be enough to convince her to leave. You don’t have time to save her if it isn’t.

You rush back to the store room. To your surprise, Laria is already there, standing over Giliys who is now laying on his back, burned hands at his side while he struggles not to scream.

“Mori is evacuating the customers,” you tell Laria. “You should get out of here. I don’t think I’ll be able to snap him out of it.”

Laria has been warned. You can’t save her if she won’t save herself. You register that she says something to you, but you don’t pay attention. You need to move onto the next item in the checklist.

Item Two: Evaluate the situation. 

This task is trickier than you’d think. Giliys is sure he knows what’s happening, but this is not what happened the last time you saw Giliys lose control. You kneel by Giliys’s side, his jewel encrusted dagger still in your hand. “Giliys, I’m going to cut off your shirt. I need to see what’s happening.”

“Go…please….”

Yes, Giliys, refusing freely offered aid when you’re about to burn down the city is sooooo heroic. We will all stand solemnly in the ashes and weep at your funeral at how selfless and good you were and how blind we were to have never seen it and then we’ll build a fucking statue, you fucking over dramatic piece of–

“I can’t. I have a duty of care,” you say before slicing through his shirt to expose–

“What the fuck?!” Laria demands, and you have to agree. Under the burning skin, there’s a strange glowing bulge growing out of his chest, like something is trying to force its way out. Given the heat and your burned arm (which still smarts), this is likely the source of the fire burning Giliys’s flesh, and you won’t be able to put the fire out as long as the thing is in his chest.

You still don’t understand what’s happening, but you understand enough. Item complete. Time to move on.

Item Three: Get that thing out of his chest.

“Giliys, whatever that is, it needs to come out now. Do I have your permission?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” he croaks. “Go. Away. Thay…Thay needs–”

Oh, now you care about what my father needs? Not when you made him accomplice to a serial killer, or when you told him about it, or when you jumped straight to “manipulate his daughter into violating her beliefs and murdering me” to solve your problems, but now that it lets you escape the fucking consequences of your fucking actions, now you–

“I have a duty of care,” you repeat a bit more sharply than before. “Do I have your permission, or do I have to sit here and watch you burn to death?”

“Fuck you.” He grunts in pain–a long primal sound–letting his head fall to the floor with his eyes squeezed shut. “Fine!” he shouts. He’s barely finished before you’ve drawn blade over glowing flesh, cutting an exit for the thing within.

Or rather…you tried to cut an exit for the thing within. Melting flesh seals itself shut as quickly as the knife slips through it. It takes a moment for you to understand what happened, and when you do, you are livid.

The dagger–the one Giliys asked you to use to kill him–is a dagger of healing. You’ve heard of such things, but you didn’t think they actually existed. There are cheaper and easier ways to avoid accidental injury from ornamental weapons–keep the blade dull; don’t remove it from the display case; commission a tastelessly ostentatious scabbard for it; do literally anything but spend exorbitant amounts of money on creating something as pointless as a dagger of fucking healing!

I swear on every deity, Giliys, if you fucking knew this dagger wouldn’t kill you and this is all some sort of sick test–

The burning flesh around the glowing core melts away like wax. Something blindingly bright shoots out of his chest into the air, heating the room like an oven, screaming like a chorus of a thousand discordant voices. And then they speak, not quite as one–

“HOME!”

There’s a bright flash and blast of heat–and then silence. It is gone, but your ears are ringing and you can barely see after that flash, but you need to act quickly. You don’t hear yourself cast the spell to stabilize him–you don’t have time to wait until you can see. Whatever power was keeping him alive through that ordeal is almost certainly gone. You have seconds to cast the spell before he’s beyond help.

May the Master of Masters hold back death, that time may this one yet perfect.

You can’t see if the spell has taken, and your ears still ring, but the heat and the stench tell you that he is still burning. You take off your outer tunic and throw it over where you know the fire is. You find his body with your hands and roll him over, chest down, in a bid to smother the fire. 

The ringing fades. The world pokes through the cracks between the blackspots in your vision. You don’t see any more fire. There’s a good chance it will start again once you turn him back over, but you don’t have time to wait to heal him. You whisper a quick spell to protect yourself from the fire–it should keep your burns mild.

Item Four: Save Giliys’s life.

You turn him onto his back. There are still motes of smoke and tiny glowing specks, but for the moment the fire is mostly gone. His eyes, still open, are back to their usual green–the fire is gone. Whatever just happened, it’s over now.

You’ve never seen burns like the ones in Giliys’s chest. Some flesh has melted. Some has charred. The biggest problem is his heart. It is exposed and blistered and charred and barely still beating, spurting blood with every beat.

May the Master of Masters hold back death, that time may this one yet perfect.

You’re going to have to stabilize him constantly until you can heal him. The problem is that a healing spell would seal his chest shut, but you’re certain it would not heal his heart. Your spells only accelerate the body’s natural healing, and the heart’s ability to heal itself is extremely limited. You would need to use spells that go beyond the body’s natural ability to heal, and those are well outside your power.

That’s it. You can’t fix this. It’s over. He’s about to die, and you’ll be alone with Theo, and Theo will not survive this and–

You’re panicking. Stop panicking. Don’t worry about your father. That’s task five. Or–six? It depends on how this task goes. So focus on the now, on the smell of blood and the sting of your burn and the sound of your heart in your ears. 

May the Master of Masters hold back death, that time may this one yet perfect.

Think. Start at the beginning. What is the problem?

The problem is that your spells can’t fix the hole in Giliys’s heart.

Is there something else that could?

Maybe…could you stitch it shut? Not like stitches–the hole is too wide for that–but almost like darning a sock? Weaving the thread you use for stitches into a patch over his heart? Yes, that might work. It won’t perfectly patch the hole, but it will be enough that scar tissue could form over it and seal it. In theory. It’s a longshot, but it’s his only chance.

“Laria,” you call, because for some reason she is still here, “my black bag is by my bed. I need it now.” 

“Why?” she asks. You look up at her, not bothering to hide how utterly inane you think that question is. “You’re trying to save him?” She sounds surprised, but you don’t have time to puzzle out why.

May the Master of Masters hold back death, that time may this one yet perfect.

“We don’t have time to talk. Get the bag.”

“Qweck,” Laria says with an edge to her voice, “Giliys is the target of a city-wide manhunt. He knows everything about the Kintargo Bellflowers because he helped me set it up. If they catch him, and he sells us out for leniency, we are done.”

The hair on your neck stands on end at that. “He wouldn’t,” you say. You’re not sure if you believe it, but you need her to stop talking and get the damn bag.

“Like he wouldn’t kill his crops for whatever just came out of his chest?” 

Oh. Oh no.

“You were eavesdropping.”

Laria rolls her eyes. “You don’t get to be an experienced tiller by being polite, Qweck.” You’re fairly sure Giliys told you something like that once, though he used a lot more profanity. “He is a serial killer who threatens our entire operation and everyone that depends on it. Let him go.”

Something that’s been out of place for a long time–since you got the letter about your father’s arrest–clicks back into place. Ever since that letter, you’ve been abandoning duties: your duty to your faith; your duty to Cheliax; your duty to the resistance; your duty to your father. This is the last duty left. Your healer’s oath is the one singular duty you have not yet abandoned in your selfishness.

May the Master of Masters hold back death, that time may this one yet perfect.

Item Four, Sub-Item A: Protect Giliys from Laria.

You stand up. You are almost a head taller than Laria, and you draw yourself to your full height, looking down on her as you speak. “I took an oath. If you want him dead, you’ll have to do it yourself–and go through me to do it.”

You can see the cogs turning in her head as she calculates whether she can draw a hidden dagger and strike before you can grapple her. You count down the seconds–you can probably go for around twenty seconds without stabilizing your patient, though that would be cutting it close. Does she know that? Is she going to try to wait it out and attack when you’re distracted by your duty?

The door swings open. Laria jumps and reaches for her dagger, but stays her hand when she sees the intruder.

“There you are!” Mori exclaims. “I got worried when you didn’t come out–what are you waiting for? You said the place was going to explode!”

“The situation has been resolved,” you say, returning to your patient's side. “Now I’m performing emergency surgery. There’s a black bag next to my bed. I need it.”

“Oooookay?” There’s a brief pause. “Oh! Yes! I can get that!” Mori rushes past you and Laria and clambers up the ladder through the open trap door to the living quarters above the shop.

May the Master of Masters hold back death, that time may this one yet perfect.

“You just had to drag her into this,” Laria hisses.

“She dragged herself into this. Do you really think someone who ran into a building that was supposed to explode is going to step aside if you try to kill a dying man? Or were you planning to walk all over her, make her forget she’s free so she’ll stand aside for her new master?”

Laria’s eyes flash, and her jaw sets, her body shaking with rage. “I’m going to help the search parties looking for the missing from this morning’s massacre. By the time I come back, I want you and your things and your pet serial killer gone. And you can tell him that the day I see him again is the day his victims get justice.”

May the Master of Masters hold back death, that time may this one yet perfect.

Item Four, Sub-Item B: Successfully Perform Extremely Experimental and Unsanctioned Surgery.

Mori slides down the ladder with your bag balanced on her arms just as the door closes behind Laria.

"Uh...here you go!" she says with false cheer, putting the bag down next to you before taking a step back. She looks down at Giliys and turns pale, covering her mouth.

You realize as you glance at your bag that you won’t be able to perform the procedure while keeping him stable. The spell takes too much concentration for you to manage sewing up a heart that’s still beating. You need an assistant.

There’s a retching sound, and then the sound of liquid hitting the floor and the acrid stench of bile. “Sorry,” Mori says weakly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I'm not great with blood.”

May the Master of Masters hold back death, that time may this one yet perfect.

“I need your help,” you say. Mori recoils, eyes wide.

“Me?! But…I don’t know anything about healing!”

“You know how to darn socks?” 

“Well, yeah, of course I know how to darn socks, but what does–”

“That’s all there is to it. He has a hole in his heart. I need to keep casting the spell to keep him stable. I need you to patch it.”

“You want me to darn his heart?!”

May the Master of Masters hold back death, that time may this one yet perfect.

“It’s a lot to ask, I know–”

“Why is it so important to you to keep him alive?! I heard what Laria said before–not all of it, but enough! If he’s really a serial killer, and it’s so hard to save him, why not just let him die?”

For the love of–is there no such thing as privacy in this building?!

“Because I swore an oath,” you snap, dropping Giliys's dagger and opening your black bag, because apparently you’re going to have to do this yourself because nobody in this damn city knows how to mind their own damn business. “Unlike you, I don’t get to pick who’s worth saving. I just heal.”

May the Master of Masters hold back death, that time may this one yet perfect. 

You start rummaging through your bag with one hand, desperate to find the spool of thread before it’s time to cast again.

Something touches you. You look up. Mori, face ashy, nervously biting her lip, has laid her hand on your arm. “I’ve got it,” she says, and she gently takes your hand out of the bag before looking through it herself with shaking hands. She takes out a spool of thread. “Is this what you were looking for?”

Why is she...? “Yes."

May the Master of Masters hold back death, that time may this one yet perfect.

“Where are the needles?” she asks.

You don’t have needles in the bag. There’s a spell, usually used as a weapon, that creates needles out of a piece of metal. You usually use the spell to create your needles out of a piece of jewelry if you need to suture a wound–it’s rare for a wound to require sutures before magical healing, so you don’t need it much, and you’re less likely to prick your fingers while digging around in your bag.

But you don’t have any jewelry. You sold it all when you arrived in Kintargo to pay for the apartment.

What other metal is there? You look around the room–

There, on the floor: Giliys’s dagger.

His healing dagger.

You pick up the dagger and focus on it. The blade warps and breaks away from the hilt, splitting into three needles of healing. You grab the needles out of the air before passing them to Mori. “There. They’ll heal whatever they pierce, so if you nick something you’re not supposed to, it will heal itself.”

“O-oh. Good.”

May the Master of Masters hold back death, that time may this one yet perfect.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Mori says softly. “I just…I got the bag and got to the ladder, and it seemed like a bad time, so…I waited until she left.”

You would usually be furious at someone delaying emergency medical care out of politeness, but you can't afford to lose focus right now. “It’s alright, Mori. You deserved to know who you’re doing this for.”

“I’m not doing it for him. I think Laria…well, she’s not right, but she has a point. And I think this plan is so crazy that nobody would blame you for giving up on him.” She sits down across from you, on Giliys’s left side, wincing in disgust at all the blood. “But if you say this is what you swore to do, then I’ll help you keep your oath.” She stares down at his burned and bloodied heart and wobbles unsteadily. “J-just as soon as the room stops moving.”

May the Master of Masters hold back death, that time may this one yet perfect.

[silversiren1101]

💎💎💎 for giliys?

[I was hoping for this you have no idea]

"First, I suppose I should ask who put you up to this." Minovae smirks. "Everyone that knows Giliys has their own, strong, opinion on him, and it wouldn't be wrong to say they're probably more similar than not. Was it Theo? I know he worries about anything jeopardizing his healing relationship with Regill, and I can easily see him agonizing over the respective spouses not getting along."

She chuckles, and shakes her head.

"You know there's something to be said about Derenges and their chosen partners being so very unlike them! Still, he needn't worry. Against everything that says I shouldn't, I actually like Giliys. Or, well", her brows furrow. "It's hard to describe. I like him, but also I don't. He's abrasive beyond words and somehow more aggressive and angry than a vrock, but he's also... kind. He's generous, too. Just look at him with his and Theo's kids! Actually, he's so many contradictions folded on top of each other because of the things he's gone through, and it would be so very wrong and hypocritical of me to condemn him for what he had to do to survive it all."

A sense of sadness pulls down her smile and dims the light in her eyes. "He... the things that make him up at his very core are the same ones that make up any other good soul. His sense of right and wrong is amongst the strongest I've ever seen, and it's a crime that such an innately just and bright person has been shaped into what he is now. Society failed him. So many people failed him. His justice has been turned into retribution, all his goodness twisted to be in the name of survival."

"You know", she continues, "I truly, genuinely think he would've made for a knight the likes Avistan has never seen had he not been crushed and pushed to the breaking point like he had. It's just...", she sighs, "It doesn't excuse some of the things he's done, and I admit I might have executed him myself if I had caught him mid-act of some of them, but he's trying. I see it. It might only be because of Theo but that doesn't diminish that he's trying to make amends. I see it, and I see where he's come from and I see the frayed pieces there of what could have been and I see what could still be..."

She hums, low and mellow, musing further on it. "So yeah, he's awful and mean and has done some truly heinous things and yet I would say in full honesty that I would trust him with my life. I'd trust him with my family, too. Even if we didn't know each other, if we weren't 'family' as tenuous as that word is, if he saw me fall protecting Jess and I begged him with my last breath, in my unmistakable Hellknight armor and he just the nearest person I locked eyes with, to take my daughter and get here out of there, I know he would."

A sharp, dry laugh cuts through her thoughts. "Actually, Giliys might be the greatest Hellknight there never was. He definitely would've been an incredible paladin, though I'm not sure which god he would've pledged himself to, and none of them deserve him anyway. I'm under no impression that he might kill me for saying that if he finds out, though", she smiles sheepishly.

"I'm under no impression at all that he doesn't hate me, period, make no mistake of that. I'm everything he despises, and I know it. I'm a proud Hellknight, and one who joined to escape the horrible life I had because of what I am. He sees me as a traitor in that sense, another 'slave who picked up the whip themselves.' And the thing is? I can't blame him. I can't blame him at all. He's the exact person I became a Hellknight to protect and advocate for and yet... here he is... as he is. We didn't help him."

[amatres]

the nickname snowflake from giliys for layla is rlly cute, both bc its a cute nickname and bc it gives her separation from the fire theming going on with her for years

[muxas-world]

Lemon, harlequin, lilac

Thnkuuuuuuu (prety sure one them im more crazy but stil loveeee)

[gothhabiba]

Illustration of an okra plant, showing stem, leaves, flowers, and pod beginning to split. Labelled "Hibiscus Esculentus" and signed "P. Caesare Majoli; L. M. [Majoli] Sc." In Osservazioni fitologiche sopra alcune piante esotiche introdotte in Roma fatte nell'anno 1788, Da gli abati Filippo Luigi Gilii e Gaspare Xuarez. Rome: 1789.

Note the use of the long s (ſ) at the ends of words, but not in the middle of them!

[astroimages]

VISITANDO O OBSERVATÓRIO DO VATICANO EM CASTEL GANDOLFO

ASSINE AGORA O SPACE TODAY PLUS PREMIUM, APENAS R$29,00 POR MÊS, MENOS DE 1 REAL POR DIA!!! https://spacetodayplus.com.br/premium/ QUER FAZER SUA CIDADANIA ITALIANA OU PORTUGUESA, CONSULTE AGORA A MASTER CIDADANIA, SIGAM ELES NO INSTAGRAM E DEIXEM UM COMENTÁRIO NA ÚLTIMA POSTAGEM: https://mastercidadania.com.br/ O Observatório do Vaticano ( italiano : Specola Vaticana ) é uma instituição de pesquisa astronômica e educacional apoiada pela Santa Sé . Originalmente baseado no Colégio Romano de Roma , o Observatório está agora sediado em Castel Gandolfo , Itália , e opera um telescópio no Observatório Internacional Mount Graham, nos Estados Unidos . No século 18, o Papado apoiou ativamente a astronomia, estabelecendo o Observatório do Colégio Romano em 1774. Em 1787-1789, a Specola Vaticana na Torre dos Ventos dentro do Vaticano foi estabelecida sob a direção de Mons. Filippo Luigi Gilii (1756–1821). Quando Mons. Gilii morreu, o Specola foi fechado porque era inconveniente para os estudantes da cidade porque a cúpula de São Pedro obstruía sua visão. Seus instrumentos foram transferidos para o Observatório do Colégio. Uma terceira instalação, o Observatório do Capitólio, funcionou de 1827 a 1870. Padre Angelo Secchi SJ transferiu o Observatório do Colégio para o topo de Sant'Ignazio di Loyola a Campo Marzio (Igreja de Santo Inácio em Roma ). Em 1870, com a captura de Roma , o Observatório do Colégio caiu nas mãos do Governo italiano. Contudo, por respeito ao seu trabalho, o Padre Secchi foi autorizado a continuar a utilizar o Observatório. Após a morte de Secchi em 1878, o Observatório foi nacionalizado pelo governo italiano e renomeado como Regio Osservatorio al Collegio Romano ("Observatório Real do Colégio Romano"), encerrando a pesquisa astronômica no Vaticano. Em 1891, porém, o Papa Leão XIII emitiu um Motu proprio fundando novamente o Specola Vaticana (Observatório do Vaticano) e um novo observatório foi construído nas paredes nos limites do Vaticano. O novo Observatório do Vaticano permaneceu lá durante os quarenta anos seguintes. No final do século XIX, o Observatório do Vaticano fazia parte de um grupo de importantes instituições astronômicas de todo o mundo que trabalharam juntas para criar um "Mapa Celestial" fotográfico (" Carte du Ciel ") e um catálogo "astrográfico" identificando as estrelas. posições. O astrônomo italiano Padre Francesco Denza liderou a contribuição do Vaticano para o projeto até sua morte em 1894. No início do século XX, o Padre John Hagen assumiu o projeto e recrutou um grupo de freiras das Irmãs do Santo Menino Maria para trabalhar no necessário gravação e cálculos. As irmãs eram Irmãs Emilia Ponzoni, Regina Colombo, Concetta Finardi e Luigia Panceri. Na década de 1930, a fumaça e o brilho do céu da cidade tornaram impossível realizar observações úteis em Roma. O Papa Pio XI transferiu o Observatório para Castel Gandolfo, que fica a 25 quilômetros (16 milhas) a sudeste de Roma. Em 1961, os mesmos problemas de poluição luminosa dificultaram a observação em Castel Gandolfo. O Observatório estabeleceu então o Grupo de Pesquisa do Observatório do Vaticano (VORG) , com escritórios no Observatório Steward da Universidade do Arizona em Tucson , Arizona . DKJ O'Connell produziu as primeiras fotografias coloridas de um flash verde ao pôr do sol em 1960. Em 1993, a VORG concluiu a construção do Telescópio de Tecnologia Avançada do Vaticano de 1,8 metros (71 pol.) , que fica em Mount Graham , perto de Safford, Arizona . A sede do Observatório permanece na Itália, em Castel Gandolfo. No início de 2008, o Vaticano anunciou que o Observatório seria transferido para um antigo convento a um quilómetro e meio de distância do castelo, como parte de uma reconstrução geral da residência papal. Seu antigo espaço seria aproveitado para oferecer mais espaço para recepção de visitantes diplomáticos. Os bairros antigos do castelo eram apertados e muito mal preparados para uso do Observatório. As atividades de pesquisa da VORG no Arizona continuaram inalteradas. #VATICAN    #OBSERVATORY #UNIVERSE

[444names]

european forenames

888 names

Aaredvari Aberísla Adenes Adérick Aedissi Aelon Agarosha Agirgina Agnhviya Agorilvet Agorna Agreade Ailvi Aimvydo Ainiko Ainope Aivile Aiviuba Ajdia Ajšan Akunna Alaino Albelf Alberic Albero Alcito Aledvide Alejafi Alekle Alessa Alfimer Alfor Alhertha Allián Altira Alyma Amanti Amarek Amarna Amashka Amber Ampje Andoisel Andrice Andry Anděna Anese Aneste Angane Angebhał Angencren Angeng Angfrión Angine Anilo Annagius Ansla Antalete Anthoaber Antiseya Antsustor Antyur Anzis Apolfrin Areosla Arger Aricone Arishadis Armirav Arsuf Artavi Arter Artroa Arvanka Ascia Ascuaxim Asiancaim Atastanin Athares Atina Atlip Atsouiros Auder Aurclajlo Auropi Aurédé Austros Avdochka Aylvan Aylyn Baldad Balza Bannsa Barandr Barhy Barlo Bartúrija Basholl Bechka Behercyok Belav Belif Belis Belmuna Bergio Berka Bermião Beréz Bettusio Bielawen Birha Bitali Blavi Blavřicia Blizamo Bluvasida Bobyn Bogei Bohar Bohdia Bohvia Bojko Bolnalvia Boosinta Bortoson Boruda Boydio Bozdian Bozel Bralania Brech Breenya Broda Brosh Broysla Brádí Bětko Cadagnica Cadinetin Cahorna Caliaan Calián Calvorg Cambela Cantonie Carip Caron Cartonge Casjantje Cassina Ceaka Cechka Ceciana Cecin Cella Charba Chure Cianeta Ciasse Cilew Cineta Clado Clina Cléme Cobetje Colavoc Colia Conatana Condros Conila Conka Consta Coonça Copio Corek Cortoyr Cosla Cosonjald Creliar Cruntola Csidan Cèlon Célie Célèrito Cúcio Dainni Daioret Daleannek Damosyanh Dandrica Daras Dasia Dasimarel Davinge Davlímero Dawliano Denka Derlekta Didora Dimelco Dinsje Diteik Djonetha Dolieta Domanned Domija Domisti Domita Domys Dorelka Doria Dough Dumne Duninep Dymosa Džensgala Eagha Ebbyna Ecgfrio Edurg Eefan Efpra Efrečka Efthary Egbjo Elano Elfga Elfonia Elgeni Elgjarrak Elicisl Elieba Elilda Elimo Elios Elithela Ellavdone Elzepas Emate Emenal Emrya Engje Ercla Erize Ernbor Eryne Esdrey Esmia Eupradzia Eusha Evellt Evesid Eveth Ewaylène Eyvil Fabiet Fabije Fabròs Fadei Farki Fasiya Fatina Fauraz Felia Fellina Felori Fereza Filoth Fiterache Flanute Flavin Flocha Flárcia Folav Forystin Framja Freenca Fritzio Fueto

Gaber Gabia Gabibéany Gaboš Galda Galdomile Galev Garla Gavaly Gazislaig Geena Geeonas Genni Gennio Geona Geonnes Geonse Geora Gerdo Gerfeta Gerina Gerrisma Gertz Geska Giahisto Gilii Gillojza Gilvio Gione Gizys Gjilvoc Gjuborcin Glasa Gogdal Gomen Gotri Gotte Graia Grair Granco Grentaren Gritvitka Gualle Gueen Guilurike Guily Gundyta Gunya Gusha Gustre Guðbjörna Guðmu Gwallina Gweno Gystinka Hajlor Halebasta Halinka Hamenghan Harmi Hedetteph Heittav Helinna Henisso Henka Henne Herigio Hetúri Hlisa Hubald Hubolf Hugurdas Huybren Hystyn Iagnio Ianned Ibrunis Ibuška Ieunia Ifija Igino Iglita Ignetreyë Ignia Ignvios Ignya Igona Ildana Illémyak Ilman Ilmtuška Ilotei Ilzek Ingen Ingolija Ingunya Innus Ioaquitan Iolislas Iondělka Iphria Irija Irmonis Isanta Isonça Ivala Ivoným Iwomèriza Iwonick Jacedana Jachka Jawna Jeannella Jelle Jenae Jeraretan Jerysa Jescu Jeshka Jeste Jeswana Jiřini Jiřáš Joabert Jocharen Jodort Johulo Joragna Jorgene Jorghaian Joslaimin Joxia Jozdita Juhoraska Juliosena Jurra Jusha Justião Juterina Juutia Jácia Kaaryna Kaaty Kaliede Kalogo Kamurmi Karda Kargina Kario Karios Katal Katez Katvalea Katyno Kaugwek Keine Keliaghen Kendo Kenko Kiragn Kirey Kirna Kironzo Konit Kontalda Korefki Kragni Kriciad Krika Krsexan Krsir Ksanija Ksepocije Kårdisa Labie Ladlate Ladys Lainna Larita Laryn Lauka Leandin Leela Leigthore Leiko Lemilya Lento Lentus Lernwenya Letaal Levenka Levettha Levgerier Lexona Lialgia Liantje Libhe Liedyen Ligusta Liishana Lilcheno Linida Linne Ljili Ljuro Ljusca Llumíra Lojte Lojzimed Lonwyna Lorio Lorwynma Loteida Lotko Lottea Lovel Lowitrio Luarija Lubrunna Lucen Lucid Lucinca Ludida Ludleno Luilie Lulen Luzabia Lyustralo Machka Madreth Madun Maeano Maelara Magnis Magos Makiv Maldije Malent Manla Manmons Marafek Mardel Mardão Mareda Marla Marlery Marondr Marquena Marzegel Matia Matilika Matinka Matiola Maxia Maxilenel Mecca Medespic Mefko Meftis Meino Meira Melica Melko Mellawa Metjessan Mihaël Mijor Milin Miliu Miljo Minatyn Minocla Mique Mirache Miridorah Mirmaël Miros Mirvé Mithn Modyelly Mogna Molla Moria Mortha Muntoy Mushka Myrie Máriansa Márit Mílth

Nadgelm Nadio Nadys Naina Naistje Nannevine Nannfja Naria Narna Nathe Natin Natinhim Natren Natros Natte Nayos Nazia Neder Neloja Neppa Nesarca Nesco Nicaritha Nichy Nicope Nigvile Nikto Ninava Nintzan Noemiry Norony Norwen Nuato Nyssaldre Nyuros Obdys Oddäusz Odeófi Odisla Odithelya Ogneastip Ogneatija Olagna Oleette Ondrétino Onošto Orenriaar Oreta Orisztery Orlav Orstasje Oskosa Osvett Otmín Ottasolda Padisz Paoisla Pasjanja Patmucil Paudel Pauleilha Paurber Pavaspe Pentila Penza Pepjely Perkki Petedina Petef Pethjazir Petmi Philjusan Phöben Piega Pilfien Polthry Pranif Prikh Prisiolo Prizily Purock Qergran Quireta Radezda Radinnij Radis Rafinela Rahie Ramini Ramiria Ramiy Ramura Ramyrt Rantinta Rapolavi Ravas Rayndur Reerinouk Regelbog Regoña Reman Remey Reminnich Renca Renine Reniusia Renko Resyna Retas Retride Rikossele Riprine Risnif Robaléalo Rocolexa Rodfrinka Rodonal Rogljko Roina Romine Roska Rostosla Rouka Rowek Royza Rudiniko Ruffeka Ruphrio Rupine Rusiu Ruzhierna Rózall Sabasandr Sabeta Safinthe Sakcet Sakos Salan Salin Salista Sallackey Samha Samine Saria Sarmhie Sastin Savlípe Sebelia Seberangt Sebinoska Seeniy Seffricel Seljka Semly Serinka Serled Sertrun Sertyn Seátko Shetha Shqiro Sibbanis Sibie Siliva Sille Sinja Sinorie Sinth Sisallek Sladka Soffeina Soken Solda Sorike Soubat Sowenik Speliberd Stalempro Stemun Sterentje Steri Sterisa Stibredzi Stikko Stodio Stona Sugor Sugrian Susya Svana Svensabas Szimundru Sílttus Tabren Tadann Tafath Tafda Taine Tasiant Tentha Teras Tetta Thadylen Thaidasa Theanna Thentefa Tholo Thonashka Thovana Thualo Théona Tiandr Tiiames Timůne Tizija Tjorethia Todoc Tolos Tommaibia Toosta Topolri Torelor Torgar Triashka Trikhaël Trite Triška Trulca Turunecta Tyome Tyorest Tzvert Tünch Tünda Udistine Uline Urija Urste Urtyr Utena Valen Valexine Valio Valwyna Vanwestje Vario Vassild Vasyllan Vedela Veins Venanto Vença Veppsiot Verian Vesyil Vikka Vikkimr Vilberton Vileyj Viner Vinka Vionagida Vitan Viter Vjoen Vlaksany Vlatmas Vlavka Vlavrosa Volgio Vovva Vráňa Vujte Vulan Vulinek Vérije Vítěpán Völlim Věran Waleevana Walysla Weinata Werto Wiljurita Wilorgo Winla Wulpir Xesulie Xhelavka Xudvya Xusethr Xénanosey Yadan Yante Yaziclav Yeftička Yehmena Yesla Ymeranan Yorhan Yvorys Zachie Zaittlaus Zdento Zdezim Zemofirio Zeppara Zigto Zlavica Zorey Zoyka Zsonster Zsárka Zsófior Zuzieni Ádassio Éliare Örsus Šimín

[heiyodream]

"I'm not going back to Redmond after the winter break," said Moody. "I spoke to your mother and father. They agreed that, if, if, possible, we could move the wedding date forward."

"What?" Ruby gasped, struggling to get up from her lying position in the hammock. The whitework she was embroidering fell to the ground. "Why don't you come back? Moody, you only have a little more to finish!"

Moody looked at her, hesitated, and took her thin, pale hand. Her engagement sapphire ring looked terribly loose and striking. He wanted nothing less than a diamond for her and had saved up years for it, but when the time came, she said she had always longed for sapphires. Everyone says we Gillis girls love fancy things, but they often mistake us for lavish jewelry too, but it's the Bells!

"Ruby, if we get married next summer—" Moody couldn't finish the rest of the sentence. He felt like crying now. He had done more than enough in his boarding house room; Gilbert was the one who diligently reminded him to change his wet pillow sheets at night. It almost felt wrong to grieve for something that hadn't happened, to mourn the girl who wasn't his wife yet, but Moody's tears had a will and a mind of their own, so be it.

But Ruby pulled her hand away from his like it was on fire and looked at him as if he betrayed her. Her voice sharpened. "You won't do it."

(Ruby’s trousseau had twenty kerchiefs, and half of them had M.S. monograms. They didn't know if she would live long enough to use them now.)

[magicartanddesign]

Mutants by Giliy Korzhev ,by oil on canvas

[apetitelady]

i need more summer dress aka pyjamasss 😩😩😩 pyjamasku udah pada mulai sempit, susah masuknya 🥲 namanya summer dress gada yang pakai zipper sih jadi gitu deh 😮‍💨 kemarin tuh pas ke KoKas kan ke HnM trus temen2 aku yang pada bilang "Sa gak cari summer dress? mumpung di HnM nih. kan lu langganan biasanya" WKKK pada hafal dong uwu sayang temen2ku 💕💕 trus salah satu temenku bilang "waktu itu si Marsa beli summer dress kan yaa eh taunya kekecilan sama dia 🤣" udah aja jadi bahan ketawa akunya 🥲 tapi memang iyaa kekecilan 😔 aku beli summer dress size 32 pas 2020 atau 2019 gitu deh lupa (bukannya merasa badan aku kecil yaa cuma summer dress HnM tuh talinya panjang banget dan jarang yang gak adjustable jadi pas aku coba... "tempelin" ke badan aku jadi jatoh banget dressnya gak nutup dada 😐, makanya beli size kecil taunya kekecilan) trus sampe rumah akhirnya beberapa jahitan kubuka biar bisa dipakai bajunya, trus talinya kugunting dan kuikat sendiri jadi pas di aku 😮‍💨 soalnya pas beli tuh gak boleh dicobain gitu deh, lupa yaa karena apa. udah gitu aku tiap beli summer dress yaa pas lagi sale aja lah giliiing, orang cuma buat tidur ngapain beli pas harga normal 🤭🤣 dan kemarin gada sale summer dress jadi gak beli deh 😞

[dujour13]

Secret Santa gift for my friend @offsidekineticist. Happy Holidays! 💕☃️💕

I hope you know I had to enlist the aid of both Ophenia and Woljif to piece this story together. Oh, that reminds me—(Siavash digs in his vest pocket and produces one silver bracelet, twelve gold pieces and a Chelish noble house signet ring)—with Woljif’s apologies. No questions asked about the ring.

I hope I got the main story beats right enough for art.

The half-orc druid I eventually tracked down in the Aspodell mountains told me Qweck was involved, but even my utmost attempts at diplomacy couldn’t prevent Qweck from slamming the door in my face, so I’m not sure where she fits into the story. There was also apparently a dinosaur? Or a golem made of dinosaurs? Anyway, here it is, as promised.

(He takes a sip of mulled Andoren wine and gives you a wink as he begins.)

🎶 The Ballad of Bellflower Hellfire 🎶

The Devil went down to Cheliax, she was lookin’ for a soul to steal She was biding her time at the scene of the crime In a gem that was magically sealed When Gil came across that necklace, offering vengeance and serving it hot And the devil grabbed hold of his heart in her claws And said boy lemme tell you what I guess you’ll do ‘bout anything to give them slavers their due And if you vow to serve me now I’ll lend a hand to you Now you’d make a damn fine Bellflower, boy All I ask is a soul or two I’ll bet the slaves you’ll free are worth that fee And it was true for all he knew And so the halfling set about with the fury of Hell in his hands Without a regret started paying his debts Freed his folk from their iron bands (Chorus) Gilly sharpen up your wits and fight that devil hard Cause Hell’s broke loose in Cheliax and the devil deals the cards And if you win you get the peace and freedom that you’re owed But if you lose the devil gets your soul Twas a rainy night in Brastlewark and Thay sat with his book And he heard the sound of rustlin’ around and went to have a look There stood Gil ‘bout to catch a chill And Thay in his distress, said come on down, you look half drowned And bundled Gil up good And thus began the heart-bond ‘tween the halfling and the gnome In the shadow of Thrune their sweet love bloomed, over cocoa snug at home (There’s a break with romantic picking, then a shift to an ominous chord) Til one dark day the news reached Gil that made his heart stop cold The iron glove of Hell came down and crushed all Gilly’s hope The Hellknights came, they were taking names, Mister Theo was their prey Gil shed tears of grief and rage - the Rack had taken Thay And Gil like Hell’s own vengeance on the wings of dragon black Rained down on Rivad fury and fire and laid to waste the Rack The only reclamation that was glorious that day Was Gil who stormed the citadel and rescued poor dear Thay (Chorus) Gilly sharpen up your wits and fight that devil hard Cause Hell’s broke loose in Cheliax and the devil deals the cards And if you win you get the peace and freedom that you’re owed But if you lose the devil gets your soul Thay in gloom of dungeon hoped for nought but Ph’rasma’s grace He held his ground, made not a sound as tears fell down his face The Rack had wrought their cruel work and yet his lips were sealed All he cared to pray for was an end to his ordeal When a signifier’s shattered mask was tossed between the bars And Theo raised his eyes and hope rekindled in his heart A little short for a Hellknight, Theo said through tears of joy Though they were trapped within the citadel the righteous would destroy In a desperate race for freedom the heroes stumbled toward the gates Paladins and Hellknights laid the citadel to waste As knights closed round Gil stood his ground o’er Theo’s tortured form As in his breast the fires of Hell let loose in violent storm (from this crescendo the tempo slows, becomes soulful) When Theo felt the heat of Hell and raised his heavy head And saw that Gil had rescued him but damned himself instead With failing limbs he lifted up and braved the flames of Dis To wrestle Gil from the Devil’s grasp and free him… with True Love’s Kiss (Chorus) Gilly sharpen up your wits and fight that devil hard Cause Hell’s broke loose in Cheliax and the devil deals the cards And if you win you get the peace and freedom that you’re owed But if you lose the devil gets your soul

---

Note: Modeled after “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” by the Charlie Daniels Band

[offsidekineticist]

I'M BACK!

This chapter took forever to figure out. Turns out the pacing was off, and what I figured would be 1 chapter is actually going to be closer to 2 or 3 chapters. Which is frustrating cuz it really feels like the fic just keeps adding chapters to itself at least as quickly as I can write them.

ANYWAY. Time for More Feelings! And Qweck being Absolutely Done with her customer service job.

Previous chapter (part 16) here

CW: Suicidal behavior and ideation; references to burning to death; burns; body horror

Nobody Is Always Right

"Yeah, so, would it be possible to get the Laria's Latte with no milk? And no caffeine?"

You take one of the ceramic cups on the counter and hand it to him. "Yes. Here."

"Oh...do I go fill it somewhere?"

"You wanted a latte with no milk or caffeine, right?"

"Yeah."

"There you go. NEXT!"

"Wait - I never actually ordered - "

"Sir, you have been served. If you want something else, please go to the back of the line."

"Whatever happened to 'the customer is always right?'"

"It was a lie. Nobody is always right, and you're old enough to learn that."

Usually this is where Mori, the brown-eyed girl from Corentyn who came in with a crop a few days after you arrived, would slide in between you and the countertop with a fabricated excuse for you to go back to the store-room while she smoothed things over with the customer. You would pretend to be torn about leaving someone so newly freed to handle the customers alone before acquiescing. By the time you returned, you’d have calmed down, and the problem customer would be gone.

Usually.

Today, though, Mori is desperately avoiding your gaze. All of your coworkers are desperately avoiding your gaze. They barely speak, and when they do it is only what is purely necessary. No niceties, no small talk, no jokes–just the bare necessities. And it’s not even your fault.

He took her in, raised her on his own, and she has nothing but contempt for him–and so she started pouring poison in your ear and you just believed her?!

The trap door to the dormitories above the shop was still open when Giliys arrived last night, and he was loud. Everyone in the building heard what he had to say.

But of course you did–she’s a pretty face, isn't she? She's someone new and exciting and we both know you–

So now, instead of bailing you out, Mori is very deliberately looking through the beans and blends under the counter, even though you don’t need any, while you are having the worst self-control day you’ve had since you were an initiate at the cloister in Ostenso.

You don’t know what exactly has caused their alienation–are they embarrassed at having heard that? Are they upset because they believe what he said about you and Laria? Are they jealous that you have a “father” you don’t supposedly don’t appreciate? You don’t know. Nobody will tell you.

“Where is your manager? I want to talk to her!”

“You’re talking to her.”

“What about Laria?”

“She’s out sick today.”

Laria came downstairs before sunrise to open the shop, only to find ash covered streets swarming with guards. She went back to her room after that, leaving you in charge to “keep the customers from walking all over” the newly freed employees. The others think Laria is just really upset about all the people who are missing or dead. You know better. You don’t know the nature of her relationship with Giliys, but she seemed surprisingly fond of him. You wonder if she still is, now that you’re sure she knows what he is.

“Well, then,” the customer–a dark haired youth, almost certainly a student–takes a moment to recover his equilibrium. “I’ll be back when she’s better to lodge a formal complaint! You have no idea how much trouble you’re in, Miss, I–”

“PRINCESS!”

The entire cafe seems to turn to look at the harried halfling running through the door. 

“What are you doing here?” you hiss.

“Look, it doesn’t matter. I have to talk to you now. It’s an emergency.”

You feel your face cool. “What happened? Where’s Theo?”

“What? No, Thay’s fine–it has to do with–y’know–remember at Rivad? The part I don’t remember?”

“Excuse me! I am still here!” the customer exclaims. You throw a wet dish towel in his face before turning to Mori.

“You take care of the customers, I have to deal with this.”

“You’re just leaving?!” Mori asks–the first thing she’s said to you today.

"How dare you!" The customer shrieks, his voice cracking. You ignore him.

“Yes. Is that a problem?” You don’t mean to glare at her, but you must have given how she seems to shrink into herself.

“N-no. Sorry,” she mumbles, and you know you’re going to catch hell for this later from Laria, but you don’t care.

You walk out from behind the counter, grab Giliys by the arm, and drag him into one of the backrooms of the coffeehouse, ignoring the brat's entitled spluttering. You do not slam the door behind you. You push it closed with exactly the appropriate amount of force for the situation. 

“The fire in the Villegre. That was you,” you say, skipping pleasantries. “It happened again.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and nods. “Yeah.”

That fucking bastard. You pick up the first thing you can grab–an apple–and hurl it at the wall with a roar. “I should have killed you at Rivad,” you snarl.

“Yes,” he agrees. “You can kill me now, instead.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you snap.

“I’m not tempting. I’m asking.”

Your body feels like ice. “What?”

He closes his eyes with a deep breath, and you are suddenly struck by how exhausted he looks. “I can’t stop her. Next time she comes out, I won’t come back. So we can’t give her the chance.” He flicks his wrist, and an ornamental dagger slides out of his sleeve into his hand. He holds it out to you, pommel first, tip angled towards him. “She’s weak from what she did this morning. If you’re quick, she won’t stop you. When it’s done, get rid of the body–make sure nobody will ever find it again. She’s trapped in a gem in my chest. Nobody can be allowed to find it again. She’s too strong now. My fault for feeding her.”

This–he–what?

“What about Theo?” you ask, suddenly remembering why you are so glad you didn’t kill Giliys at Rivad. “You’re going to leave me to deal with him alone?”

His exhaustion shifts to regret. “I’m sorry. If I had a choice–”

“You did have a choice!” you snap. “You had a choice when you decided to let a monster live in a gem in your chest!”

“I know.” He takes a deep breath. “Please, Qweck. I don’t know I’ll be able to do it by myself.”

He never calls you Qweck. He also never begs.

Another thought strikes you. “What does Theo think of this?”

His jaw sets. “Just take the fucking dagger, Qweck.”

“Does he even know?”

“Please–”

“It would kill him to lose you, you know that, right?”

“He hates me!” Giliys exclaims. “He just forgot. I confused him–he’s not himself. It’ll be better once I’m gone.”

“He could never hate you! I don’t know why you keep saying he does, but he doesn’t, so if you actually care for him, you’ll find another way to–”

“I fed her some of my crops.”

For a moment you wonder with confusion when Giliys was ever a farmer, and why plants would satisfy a creature that fed on souls. You know what the word ‘crops’ means to a Bellflower tiller, but no tiller would ever think of doing what Giliys just said he had done.

And yet, as you stare at him in dawning horror that you’re sure is visible on your face, he holds your gaze with something like defiance. “I had to feed her souls to keep her from taking over. So every so often–when she got hungry–I would pick out someone from my crops. Someone alone, who had no one waiting for them. Someone that no one would miss. I’d say I had a place in the city and invite them to stay with me while they got their feet under them. They always said yes. Always so happy to finally have a friend. I’d take them down a back alley and….” He stops, still looking you in the eye. “They’d always try to scream. It was always too late by then, but they’d try. Hellfire burns fast. It never took long. Just long enough for them to realize. And then they’d be gone. No soul, no body, just a pile of ashes that I’d spread out to be less obvious. And then I’d go back to Cheliax, to Brastlewark, and Thay would see there was something wrong, realize I’d ‘lost’ one, and he’d fuss over how my clothes were wet and muddy, and he’d give me some of his to wear while my clothes dried out, and I’d pretend not to notice they were much too big for him and nothing like what his normal clothes, and he’d give me cocoa and tell me stories about the kids at his library until dawn, and by the time I left, I’d feel ok. Every time I felt her hunger and felt like this time I couldn’t do it, I’d remember that he’d be there when I was done. And it would be enough.”

You’re shaking now, and you don’t know if it’s rage or shock or cold or all of it. “Does he know?” you ask, voice low with anger.

He nods. Oh, gods, he nods. “He told me he’d kill me if he ever saw me again. And then you called me to get him out of Rivad.”

Theo knows. He used Theo to carry him through damning innocents, and he let him find out. 

You’ve known Giliys for decades, worked with him, even vouched for him on occasion. You’ve known from the beginning that he was a murderer, that he subsisted off of a combination of paid assassinations and corpse robbing, but you let it go because he was dedicated to the cause–or so you thought. You shouldn't have. You should have realized–how did you not realize–

But what you’re feeling right now can’t possibly compare to what your father felt when he realized. To care so deeply for another for years, only to discover that he was a monster who used your affection to motivate his atrocities–it would be heartbreaking. The confusion and uncertainty–wondering if you had ever known him at all, if he had ever returned your affections or cared about you beyond your ability to comfort him when his conscience woke. Asking yourself how he fooled you for so long–how you could have possibly loved that–

It was a betrayal that would destroy anyone. How had it not destroyed your father?

Maybe it did, and you just never noticed. 

There’s no thought in your movement. You have barely realized you’ve taken the dagger from him before you have him pressed against the wall, golden blade bared against his throat.

“You son of a bitch,” you growl through grit teeth. You feel his body relax, and that only adds fire to your rage–does he think you won’t hurt him? Does he think your healer’s oaths will keep him safe? That your self-control and discipline will hold you back from giving him what he deserves?

No. He knows they won’t.

This is why he told you. He told you so it would be easy to kill him. So that even if it would break your oaths, you’d kill him in a fit of rage. And it almost worked.

What is wrong with you??

You are a child of Irori on the path to perfection. You should be above this. You should be above snapping at customers. You should be above lashing out at Corvinius. You should be above abandoning your father to the monster who used him.

The bastard must see the rage clearing from your eyes, because his face hardens. “Do it,” he hisses. “Just fucking do it! I deserve it–you know I do–just–”

You need to think. You need everything to stop so you can think and figure out what to do–if killing him is right or if you just feel like it is because you’re angry or–

Pain.

You hiss in pain as you recoil, practically jumping backwards, away from Giliys. You look down at your left arm–the one that had been barred against his chest to hold him in place–and find an ugly burn on the side of your forearm. You hear a strangled cry, and when you look up at Giliys, face twisted in pain as he gasps for breath and claws at his chest.

His chest which is now glowing through his smoldering shirt.

All else forgotten, you move to help him. “What–”

“No–get back! Get back!” he croaks, left hand shooting towards you to push you back if you come too close, right hand continuing to claw at his chest, heedless of the flames and growing burns.

“You’re–”

“What is going–” Your words die as he raises his eyes to meet yours–green eyes ringed with hellfire. You know the answer before he says it.

“Get everyone out. Out. Out now!” he pants.

“We’re too late. She’s back.”

[dgmtours]

A guesthouse with lush tropical garden in gili trawangan, lombok, Indonesia. A five minutes walk from seaport of gili trawangan. #homestay #guesthouse #hotel #accommodation #gilitrawangan #giliisland #lombok #bali #instatravel (di Gilii Trawanggan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CLRWLhpMS3F/?igshid=5wizw2pmjmqv

[max1461]

@kaumnyakte-ultra

I mean, only sorta, because people had recognized the similarities between various IE languages (including Latin, Greek, and Sanskrit) for a long time before William Jones. Of course it's also possible that Arawak speakers had noted the similarity of different Arawak varieties pre-conquest, so I'm not sure where to draw the line. But if we're to take Jones as the originator of the concept of the IE family proper, then Arawak was proposed three years earlier by the Italian Jesuit priest Filippo Salvatore Gilii. I guess he also proposed a few other South American language families, including Carib, but I'm not sure when. And he recognized specific sound correspondences too, which IIRC is something Jones didn't do.

Interesting, the Arawak family was proposed three years before Indo-European!

[antholidays1992-blog]

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