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lettersnorth · 3 years ago

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Flowers for Wyda

Cravendy had left another letter on Lin’s door - meandering paragraphs that asked about how she was doing, what she was up to, and then letting her know how Dirtpatch was faring. As the paper was running out of space, Cravs had fit what she really wanted to ask in a narrow sliver sandwiched between small talk and the edge of the page. ‘I’m going to visit the Isles of Umbra to visit Wyda. Meet me at Aleport if you want to come along, and bring flowers.’

Cravendy waits by the docks, the sun burning high in the clear skies. In her right hand, she holds a bouquet of slightly wilted wildflowers, though at the center of it is a metal rose twisted from wire.

For the whole length of the letter that Lin found on her door, it was the last few lines, squished in along the bottom of the parchment that packed the punch and scatter the rest of the words like so much chaff. Not to take anything away from the work done to Dirtpatch or the strides the villagers had made. But some things simply hit harder than others. And this, Aislinn had learned, would always be one of them. So at the appointed time she arrives on Aleport's dock, her own bundle of flowers, a collection of pastels, held in the crook of her arm. Bright, happy, cheerful colors someone like her had no business holding but did nevertheless. Catching sight of Cravendy, she makes her way over to the woman and manages a sort of smile. A sketch of one, anyroads. "Got your letter." she says by way of greeting.

Cravendy turns at the sound of Lin’s voice and similarly forces a smile onto her own face. Ever present was an anxiety hooked between her heart and her throat, one that pushed her to expect the worst. To expect Lin to not show up. But it was often proven wrong, and seeing Lin brought a sense of relief to Cravs.

“Aye, and I see ye brought flowers. Are ye ready to push off?” Cravs gestures to a boat behind her. It’s the same one that had delivered them to Dirtpatch several times before, though this time, it would embark on a voyage to somewhere darkly familiar.

Aislinn glances at the boat, the question settling like lead in the pit of her stomach though for Cravendy's sake she bravely attempts to hold her barely there smile in place. Something very dark flickered in the back of the woman's eyes. She hadn't stepped foot on Umbra since that day. "Ready as a person can be." she said with a bright patch of honesty. Nevertheless, she nods. "Let's head out."

Cravendy nods and goes to step down onto the boat, balance naturally found on the rocking vessel. She can tell Lin is nervous, because Cravs is as well. The Isles had only been regarded at a safe distance, as shadows on the horizon since that day. But today, they would walk back into that place. Once the anchor is raised and the sails are drawn, she turns to offer a hand to Lin to help her step onto the boat as well. To go on this journey, together.

Inhaling a breath, Aislinn takes Cravendy's offered hand briefly. Her hop into the boat feeling filled with a sense of finality. A tacit agreement that yes, she would do this and no, there would be no turning back. She sets her bundle of flowers down carefully in one of the ship's holds, along with Cravendy's own and goes about helping the Seawolf shove off and make way. She thinks about making small talk but she never was very good at that sort of thing even at the best of times. So she settles for something direct. "Was it the lanterns Dirtpatch released that brought this to mind?"

“That was the trigger. But...I’ve always wanted to come back here. Been too scared to do so until now, but...” Cravs trails off, careful to not let her worries soak into her voice.

The ride over is quiet, the winds calm. Just saltwater splashing gently against the wooden body of the boat. And the Isles are, as usual, an eerily haunted place. Like stepping into an old overgrown garden that had once been loved...though the memories attached to this place were not of love, but of pain.

The exact spot where the battle had taken place is untouched. Where a fireball had turned sand into glass pincushion, where sections of the cliff had been chipped off - it’s all still there, though worn by time. However, one thing is different. To the side is a pile of sand with blue forget-me-nots growing around it in spirals. At its center is a stick with a red ribbon tied to it, blowing slightly in the wind.

Cravendy fidgets with her bunch of flowers. Now that she’s here...now that she’s here? Maybe she wasn’t ready to face this.

By now Aislinn was no stranger to stepping into difficult situations. This was all at once no different and nowhere near the same. As they moved in tandem across the gloaming beach, she breathed easy, slow breaths, her footsteps moving almost of their own accord until suddenly, they were there. She froze then, staring at the battle-scarred cliff face, the crater of glass and for a moment she can feel the heat of the fire, the rush as the aether leaves her and her shields shatter, Rising and Rolanda yelling and then...darkenss. Swiftly, she shakes her head as though tossing off something truly unpleasant. She refocuses on Cravendy, noting her shifting movements. "Not exactly easy to stand here, is it?" she murmurs. "With it all almost the same way we left it." she pauses and notes the flowers and ribbon with a furrowed brow. "Except for that. Where did that come from?" She approaches the spiral of blue flowers slowly, the sight of them by far a greater comfort to look at than anything else here.

Cravendy focuses on the shape of the fluttering ribbon and brings a hand up to her own. Of course, they had been here to clean up. Cravs had known that Percy and Barnable, old crewmates, were cured of their tempering, that they went to the east to chase down their errant captain. If only she was strong enough to be here earlier. “I think my old crewmates came ‘ere. This is both Wyda’s and Dot’s resting spot, after all,” she says, and the sound of her own voice surprises her. That there’s any voice at all. She steps over and kneels down to observe the flowers. It was unusual for these to be growing in sand and salt water.

Aislinn is quiet a moment as she lets that sink in, a tumult of emotion barely contained beneath a tightening of her lips. Nothing more. She understood she only knew a small fraction of Red Argos story and it was likely the poorest part. Instead, she reaches down and settles her bundle of flowers next to the stake. Cravendy shadows Lin’s movement, placing her own bouquet next to the other woman’s. The silence of the Isles unsettles her, like it ought to be filled with something other than cold sand. That she needs to fill the air with something warm. Cravs leans back and takes a seat, as if having a picnic with the marker. “I’m sorry it came to this, and that I came so late. I was so scared of makin’ a mistake, it was like I was paralyzed. Wouldn’t do anythin’, or worse, I’d...” Cravs swallows, mouth feeling dry all of the sudden. But she carries on talking to the grave. “But bein’ scared doesn’t change the outcome. That by not makin’ a choice, I was makin’ one anyway. One where I did nothin’.”

Cravendy sighs and shifts her head to the left, now addressing Lin. “I’ve been tryin’ to do good with this life I’ve got. The one Wyda gave to me. And I’ve been tryin’ to come to terms with everythin’ that’s ‘appened. I still remember what ye said that day. Accept that it ‘appened, move on. There’s only did and didn’t ‘appen. Maybe it’s the only way of ‘ealin’. To accept that they’re gone, that it was bad. To accept the...permanence of the past.”

Aislinn stands silent as Cravendy addressed the grave, her gaze fixed on the red ribbon fluttering softly in the breeze. Her head turns ever so slighty in Cravendy's direction as the Seawolf speaks to her. The churning depth of feeling forcing her to press her hands to her stomach, to take measure and try to translate the ache within into words. "It's not so easy as that though, is it?" she replies. "Acceptance and moving on. Like I can stuff it in a box, lock the lid and never look back on it. You weren't wrong either, that day on the range. That's what I was trying to do. But acceptance doesn't mean forgetting."

She sighs softly and sits down next to Cravendy, shifting in her seat. "I miss her. I know she'd have a lot to say about some of the things I'd catch her up on. Things I'd confide in her." her gaze flickered to Cravendy and then away, embarrassed. "Sometimes I try to imagine what advice she would give me. What jest she might come up with to make it all seem silly. How she'd laugh in delight and tease me about some things right about now." Another soft sigh escapes her. "I'll admit my imagination is a poor substitute. I'm too serious by half."

“At first, I thought healin’ was meant forgettin’. That otherwise, ye’d be burnin’ with the full pain of it all, forever. And that was the only way ye could pay back the fallen,,” Cravs notes. A pang of shame stings her, as denial had brought Wyda into existence. She shakes her head, disappointment weighing heavily on her shoulders. “But it’s not like that. Ye never forget or stop missin’ someone, and healin’ is simply...well. It’s just like ‘ow Dirtpatch rebuilt itself, but the scars are still there. Ye may as well refer to it as existin’ instead. We live and carry on.”

Cravendy Hound catches the small look Lin sends her way. “Ye really are too serious for yer own good. I’ll be sure to grab ye on whatever bullshitery I get myself into, to mix things up for ye. To remind ye I’m ‘ere.” She grins slightly. “Oh, and, I’ve been meanin’ to ask...’ow ‘ave ye farin’? Somethin’ keepin’ ye busy as of late?”

Aislinn nods slowly. "I think I like that way of looking at it. People we lose leave a scar and we're changed. But we don't forget where the scar came from." As Cravendy affirms her earlier observation, she puffs out a breath. "Suppose if another person sees it, it must be true. Some bullshittery might do me good." As for the question, she pauses unsure how Cravendy would respond to her idea she feared she was becoming akin to a bad luck charm. She shakes her head. "Office work for Heartwood's been keeping me at the House. That and the clinic. I'm sorry I missed the last bit of work at Dirtpatch. But they're up and running now?"

Cravendy Hound: “Aye, better than before, really. The place has become quite the fishin’ ‘ub, and the docks ‘ave never been busier. Although I told them it was fine, they were adamant about payin’ ‘eartwood back financially for the rebuildin’ support. So expect a check from them every now and again.” Cravendy sniffs, and it's followed by a shiver. Lin was just Lin, and she looked fine. But something seemed off. Cravs can’t put a finger on what she’s feeling though. “Are ye sure yer okay? Don’t ‘ave a fever or somethin’?”

Aislinn's 'tsk' sounds sharp in the soft silence surrounding them. It's in response to hearing Dirtpatch is going to be sending gil Heartwood's way. "Suppose we can turn around and take that money to buy fish or somesuch from them, maybe twice above asking or do you think they'd see that coming?" she pauses and sends a calculating look Cravendy's way. "Maybe ask Bertram to do the buying. That way it doesn't look like its coming from Heartwood."

As Cravendy presses, Lin leans back a bit. As if doing so could keep the Seawolf from sensing what she knows the woman must be sensing. The corrupted aether she's storing like some living, breathing cursed relic. "Maybe I'm a bit off considering where we are and all." it wasn't exactly a lie, she told herself. Therefore she wasn't -exactly- a hypocrite and it still would never come as easy to her as some people she knew. She comforted herself with this logic. This was different!

Cravendy Hound: “And what would we do with all that fish? If we eat it day in day out, I’m sure someone’ll file a complaint,” Cravs jests, a smile spreading on her face as she imagines the halls being filled with buckets of excess seafood. “And Dirtpatch’ll see what we’re doin’ anyway. Maybe, we could...buy their fish, and sell it in Gridania for them. That way it’ll ‘elp get them more customers. But I do like the idea of sendin’ Bertram to do it. Full time fish courier, heh. What a job title.”

Cravendy plainly takes what Lin says at face value. It seemed a reasonable explanation, and who wouldn’t feel off given the circumstances surrounding this place? Cravs nods. “Aye well. If whatever yer feelin’ gets worse, let me know, alright? Ain’t good to let somethin’ bad fester...believe me. I know.” Aislinn finds she can't look directly at Cravendy as she nods in what should be a wordless agreement to not let something like this fester. Affirming it with words seemed a step too far into 'definite lies' territory.

Cravendy sighs, eyes fixed to the flowers they’ve left on the sand. The truth was, Cravs felt there was something off with herself as well. She had chalked it up to being primal-puppeted for the past year, and had always assumed it’d go away eventually. But it didn’t. “Maybe I’m the one who’s off, and not ye? I know we’ve been talkin’ about ‘ealin’ and everything, but there’s something...wrong.” "Wrong how?" Aislinn asks, shifting her attention to Cravendy once more. "With you?"

Cravendy Hound: “Funnily enough, not with me, but...” Cravs hesitates, After all this talk of carrying on, to bring this up would be like ripping the wound open again. Or, at the very least, would make her sound like a broken record. “Okay, just so ye don’t think I’m crazy. All this stuff we’ve said? It sunk in, alright? Ye can’t bring back the dead, nor should ye.”

Cravendy scratches the back of her head, deciding to just go for it. “But no, not with me. But with...Wyda? I get that she’s gone, but...I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it.”

Cravendy Hound: “Ye know what, there’s definitely somethin’ wrong with me. I definitely ‘ave more than a few marbles loose,” Cravs jokes as she kicks her legs out and leans back.

Aislinn didn't think it needed to be said. "Of course you don't bring back the dead." Whether or not one -could-, well, that was a different story and Lin knew very well what black magic could do. She felt a shudder slide all the way down her spine. "What do you mean...wrong with Wyda? How...why do you think its something to do with her and not...I don't know." Aislinn was traveling into deep waters she knew next to nothing about. "You shared the same space, didn't you? Could it be something residual to do with that?"

Aislinn North shifted to face Cravendy fully now.

Cravendy Hound: “I...never really put this into words. I don’t really know, it’s just a feelin’, and it’s ‘ard to tease out when exactly it started. When yer ‘ands are full from keepin’ yerself together, ye don’t keep track of the details.” Cravs shrugs to herself. “But now that things ‘ave gotten better on my side, I noticed it. Kinda like when ye can sometimes ‘ear a ‘igh pitched sound ringin’ in yer ears, and other times, not ‘ear it at all.”

Cravendy meets eyes with Lin for a second, but finds the stare a little too intense to hold for too long. “I’m probably just bein’ paranoid.”

Aislinn doesn't know what to make of what Cravendy is telling her. Logically, -logically-, she knows it can't be Wyda and she tamps down any wild speculation before it can even begin. She won't let herself go there. She turns and watches the ribbon tethered to the stake dance in the breeze. But then again, Wyda herself was impossible, wasn't she? A primal. "I...don't know what to say to that. Other than to say intuition is a hell of a thing. You said something's off. Don't ignore that. I'm...just not sure what it would have to do with Wyda."

Cravendy‘s gaze falls to the small blue flowers dotted around the grave. “Yer right. I just don’t know ‘ow to act on this feelin’ yet, since it’s so vague and all. And maybe this is just what it’s like to miss someone.” But missing someone didn’t mean their skills were transferred to you. And if the person was dead, it didn’t usually entail worrying about their well being. Cravs grumbles something about sleeping earlier today and gets up.

Cravendy Hound: “Ye know, now that we’ve been ‘ere awhile, it’s not as dauntin’ anymore. Still sad, but that’s fine.” Cravs brushes the sand off of her arms and legs, then holds a hand out to Lin to help her up. “Time to ‘ead back?”

A low noise comes from Aislinn's throat that says that though she couldn't agree entirely with Cravendy, as long as she remained focused on the flowers and the ribbon, she could see how it might not appear to be so bad. Taking the Seawolf's hand, she heaves herself up with a word of thanks. "Yeah...time to head back." she agrees as she likewise brushes the sand from her clothes.

"This was a good idea, Cravendy. Coming out here. I think she would have liked it." She takes one last look at the spiral of forget-me-nots and the ribboned stake with the addition of the flowers they had brought. With a breath, she nods to the makeshift grave and turns to join Cravendy on their way back to the ship.

#ffxiv rp #balmung rp #rp snippets #well deserved closure #And a hint of plots to come?!#Cravendy Hound #Aislinn North

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kentuckywrites · 4 years ago

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His Body, The Canvas

Pongo has gone missing, and @shunkuroichii ‘s Shun, @pish-posh-mish-mosh ‘s Mira, and @shymindmeta ‘s Sy’Chell grow concerned about his whereabouts. As fate would have it, Pongo went to face a dragon, and the results were unexpected...

A rewrite of Like A Canvas, a fic I wrote a little over three years ago.

Cauldros was an unforgiving terrain, the skies and the land full of ash and flame. Today it was raining fire, brimstone crashing down onto the molten floor. It’d be foolish to come on a day like this, but Pongo flew his Skell into the continent with no second thoughts. It was perfect weather to face the creature that had hurt his friend.

Sy’Chell had almost brushed over the topic. Pongo had been curious as to whether or not Sy could see once, what had caused him to end up in this state. Sy opened up, told him that this was not by choice, that a creature born of the ashes of Cauldros had taken his sight. Pongo knew exactly which indigen he’d been referring to. He knew where to find it, what prior conditions it needed to appear. He knew its name, how it would not be so easily killed.

Vortice, the Deific Blast. A Class 94 Tyrant, one of the most powerful indigens on Mira, and certainly one of the deadliest in Cauldros. Pongo hid his intent to kill it in conversation, though beneath the skin his blood boiled with rage. The planet was aware of his anger, and any attempts it made to calm him ended in silence. He’d packed his things, refueled Eros, stacked as many Piscinoid augments as he could fit into it, and took off without informing anyone. Pongo could use excuses, if anyone questioned him. He’d grown better at lying after all this time.

Pongo’s target became visible on the horizon as Eros flew ever closer to Mount M’Gando. Pongo clutched the controls of his beloved Skell tightly, his knuckles turning white. Taking down a tyrant solo was nearly unheard of in BLADE, with only the most experienced able to claim that distinction for themselves. Had those BLADEs fought with a similar vengeance? Had it burned in their cores to the point of overflowing? Pongo tried to steady his breaths as his thoughts began to eat away at him from the inside. He wasn’t going to turn back now, not when avenging Sy was on the line.

Vortice roared, circling the top of Mount M’Gando and soaking in its heat. Pongo pushed Eros forward, forward. He waited until he was in range to fire, and when the first diskbombs deployed from his weapon, he finally let his rage consume him.

Pongo was supposed to babysit Apollo and Asteria. He should’ve arrived an hour ago. But he never came. No texts, no calls, he’d simply disappeared.

Mira could feel from the first minute that something was wrong. He wouldn’t blow something like this off, and it was even more unlike him to not respond to her texts. She curled into herself more as Shun paced in front of her, hands in his pockets. The silence in their barracks was deafening, his footsteps on the cold metal floor hardly registering as sound. She was thankful the kids were both asleep now, but hearing them up and about would’ve been a blessing in that hour of waiting.

“Still nothing?”

Mira shook her head. “No. You?”

“Nothing at all.” Shun removed his hands from his pockets to run his fingers through his hair, still maintaining his rhythmic pacing. “I’m worried. Really worried.”

“I am too. This isn’t like him,” She replied, taking a shaky breath, “I think we should go out there and look for him.”

“Where would we look? We don’t have any clues. And we can’t just leave Apollo and Asteria alone to -”

A growl interrupted Shun’s rambling. Mira’s head turned to Sy, who was sitting on the opposite end of the couch with his arms folded across his chest. It was hard to tell what face he was making underneath his helmet, but when he raised his hands and motioned downwards, it became clear that he was telling Shun to calm down. Shun sighed, stopping in front of the coffee table. Somehow his expression remained blank, but hidden in his eyes was the concern of a protective older brother. Mira stood herself up, leaving her comm device on the couch as she circled the table to approach him. She reached for his hands, taking them within her own and squeezing gently.

“Wherever he is, I bet he’s fine,” She said, partially to convince Shun and partially to convince herself, “He’s strong, remember?”

“But what if something happened?” Shun responded frantically, “What if he got launched into Mount M’Gando? What if he was captured by the Ganglion and is being held hostage? What if he lost his legs to an Ictus? What if -”

“Shun.”

Mira cut him short by squeezing his hands again, and his fingers instinctively curled into hers. Shun’s words hadn’t failed to embed themselves into her brain, raise worries that she hadn’t thought possible. Pongo was strong, that she knew for certain, but he had a tendency to exceed his own limitations.

When Shun didn’t answer immediately, Mira decided to take the reigns, asking some calm yet possibly informative questions. “When was the last time we saw him? What was the last mission he took? Maybe he’s running late on a big expedition.”

“Yesterday,” Shun shook his head, “He was leaving out of the east gate. Didn’t get to talk to him since I was wrapping up a mission with Eleanora.”

“Pongo babysat the kids on Tuesday,” Mira said, “and that was the last time I saw him. Sy?”

Sy stood up, his Casca reflecting the barracks light. Slowly approaching the two, he pulled out his comm device and began to type furiously. Mira waited patiently until he flipped the screen around, showing what he’d written out.

I saw him on Tuesday as well. We were talking over dinner after we ran into each other in the commercial district. In conversation I told Pongo how I was blinded, and afterwards he wasn’t acting the same.

Shun squinted, reading alongside Mira. His hands became tense after he finished and he quickly looked away. Mira frowned, confused. “Sy, if you don’t mind me asking...do you know why Pongo would’ve reacted the way he did?”

Sy nodded and returned his focus to his comm device, typing out something new. When he directed the screen towards them again, Mira’s blood went cold.

I could be wrong, but...perhaps he meant to avenge my loss of sight by defeating the very creature that took it: Vortice, the Deific Blast.

“No. No.”

Shun practically ripped his hands out of Mira’s, heading for the weapons rack they kept close to the door. He picked up his dual guns, checking the cartridges as he spoke. It would be hardly noticeable to the average ear, but Mira could pick out how his voice quivered. “I bet he didn’t bring backup. He never brings backup. Did he even tell anyone where he was going? Damn it, what if we get there and it’s too late, what if -”

“Shun!” Mira called his name again, and he went silent, staring at her, waiting. To her left, Sy reached for her upper arm, holding up his comm device with a new message displayed on its screen.

Go with him to Cauldros. I’ll stay here and watch the kids.

Mira knew better than to argue. Shun would want her to come - the more the merrier, after all - and the kids would both understand why they left. She could see it now, the future memory of her sitting with Asteria as she painted upon a new canvas with her little fingers, asking about what dangerous missions she’d gone on and how many people she’d saved. Mira would tell the story about how she and Shun saved Pongo from a dragon, a prince in distress, and Asteria would begin to absentmindedly paint the scene as best she could, eyes wide with wonder. She’d nail the volcano, the three little figures of her family, the Deific Blast floating overhead casting its fire upon them. Would she be the knight this time, or would Shun? Who would hold the shield that protected Pongo, and who would wield the sword to slay the mighty beast?

Mira took two steps forward, about to trail Shun and grab her weapons, when the front door clicked.

It swung towards them silently, revealing a figure standing in the doorway, shoulders slumped and knees shaking. One arm was using the doorframe as support, though its lack of purchase did almost nothing to stabilize him. His hair was frizzy, unkempt, sticking up in strange directions in a chaos similar to Shun’s. His clothes were torn, some parts of his vest hanging on by mere threads. Mira grew increasingly concerned as the figure entered, and she realized he wasn’t wearing shoes, though a pair of worn down socks still covered his feet. That and his fingers were what grabbed her attention the most. It was hard to see, almost unnoticeable since he was wearing fingerless gloves, but under the shredded fabric were lines of blues and purples and reds and yellows, cascading frequently and without remorse. When he picked his head up, the lines became more apparent, strokes of paint that were eerily beautiful, the roots of a tree that had seen hell and survived. Somehow he was able to smile, though it was clear the action was painful to hold.

Shun reacted first.

“You fucking idiot.”

He put his dual guns down quickly before running up and taking Pongo in for a tight hug. Mira winced as she heard Pongo audibly cry out in pain, and Shun stepped back quickly, his hands hovering near Pongo’s shoulders as he scanned him over. Mira soon joined him, noticing that the brush strokes extended down his neck and into his torso. It would make sense if the markings on his fingers pushed further beyond as well.

“We’re happy you’re back in one piece,” She started, “But you look really hurt. Do you mind taking your vest off so I can bandage you up?”

“No, wait, we should get him to the MMC,” Shun protested, “It looks worse than meets the eye. I’m not even sure why you came here first -”

Pongo didn’t appear to be listening to him, though he turned to Mira and began to shrug off what little of his combat vest remained. With the longer sleeves disposed of, Mira could see his arms were coated in the markings, and they visibly went into his chest. Pongo, however, made no move to take off the tank top that he wore underneath his vest.

“Please, Pongo,” Mira reached out and put as gentle a hand as she could on his shoulder. But even the tiniest amount of contact made him shudder. As Shun reached down and collected what Pongo had removed, Mira began to usher Pongo further into the room, further into the light. He let her guide him, putting up little resistance. Even without showcasing his body, the canvas decorated in failed duty, it would have been obvious to Mira that he was wounded. There was something beneath the surface, more roots penetrating below the skin, that was sapping his strength.

In the common area, Sy made a small noise, likely one of worry. But Mira focused on keeping Pongo steady, and she moved to his backside and began to unzip the back of his tank top. Her hands were slow and steady, but her breaths shook as every new stroke of paint was revealed. She had been right; these scars extended onto his torso, but they seemed to pass down below his belt, too. There was no part of his skin untouched by the paint.

It was horrifying. It was painful to look at, painful to imagine the circumstances.

“Holy shit…” Shun placed Pongo’s tattered vest and gloves on the couch, able to see Pongo’s front half, the damage he’d been hiding. Mira helped Pongo slip out of the tank top and tossed it into the pile Shun had made. His chest was just as bad as his back, if not worse. A tear formed in the corner of Mira’s eye, and though she tried to hide the reason she was wiping her eye, Pongo caught on.

“I am alright, I promise...just a few bruises. I have faced worse.”

“A few bruises? A few?!” Shun was holding back as much as he could, but every ounce of anger and concern and frustration was leaking through his veyes. “You’re really hurt, Pongo. How can’t you see that?!”

Sy growled loudly, throwing his shoulders back as he added on to what Shun had said. Pongo’s eyes went wide, his smile fading. “Did you really expect me to sit back and not do anything about it?! You did not deserve what happened to you - I can and will take more hits than this to see your revenge carried out.”

Another set of growls, and Pongo began to cry, tears staining his purple and red cheeks. “You do not understand!! I fought to avenge you because I care about you!!” His chest heaved and he took a deep breath, hands shaking at his sides. “But in the end, I...it got away, neither of us died, and I failed you Sy’Chell I am so sorry I failed you -”

“Be quiet.” Shun told Pongo sternly, “None of that matters right now. You need rest.”

Mira opened her mouth, ready to agree, but Pongo cried out, “I will not rest until that fucking monster pays for what it did!!”

The force of his own voice, a vigor that did not match his physical state, caused Pongo to yelp in pain. Mira knew that all previous attempts at contact led to pain, and yet she knew Pongo thrived off of physical touch. She took one of his hands in both her own, caressing the skin beneath as softly as possible. She could swear she felt his blood tingling, occasional pulses pushing through, the faintest remnants of static electricity radiating off of his fingertips.

“Honey, do you think you can get the guest bedroom set up?” Mira looked over her shoulder as she began to lead Pongo away, “I’m taking him to the bathroom to get him patched up as best I can.”

Shun nodded, effortlessly walking past Pongo and Mira to get the bedroom organized. Pongo said nothing to retaliate, resigned to his pain, resigned to his weakness. Approaching the hallway towards the bathroom and bedrooms, Mira gave Sy one last sympathetic glance before turning back to Pongo.

That glance was all it took for Pongo to speak to the kids first.

“Good morning, you two!” Pongo chirped, his voice cracking by the end.

Apollo and Asteria hadn’t fully left their bedroom yet, their tiny heads peeking out of the doorframe. Wide eyes and innocent curiosity were given the image of a broken prince, one who had faced a dragon with a sword and shield and came home defeated. They were too young to know the truth - she promised herself that should they ask, Pongo defeated the dragon, he saved the day. It was his determination and resilience alone, a lone fighter in an impossible battle.

“You should get back to sleep, you two,” Mira told them, and they almost listened. But the door stayed propped open as Pongo called out, still attempting to carry the painful burden of a smile.

“Right. I can tell you about these when you get your rest, okay? Sleep is important, especially for you.”

“But Uncle Pon, you don’t sleep at all,” Apollo commented, and Pongo giggled at that.

“The villains never sleep and the heroes never rest, as the saying goes.”

Turning to Asteria, the young and kind and creative little girl Mira loved with all her heart, Pongo offered one last smile.

“I am sorry I was late; maybe we can paint tomorrow?”

#xenoblade x #His Body The Canvas: Short Story #Shun #Mira #sy'chell #THIS WAS SO SATISFYING.....#I amped up the Big Bro Shun a little bit because let's face it #if my little bro walked in covered in lightning scars I'd be a Bit Upset

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disparition · 4 years ago

Text

7. The Rivers Dream of Rain (text version)

We follow every road, cross every field our maps coated in finger oil the stains of generations

We keep all names new and old, on small wooden plaques or old dominos threaded on twine or twisted fishing line carried on the belt and around the neck

Among our people, the sound of these names - they brush and click against one another is our most Sacred sound.

We like it when you hear our approach when you hear us on your road

You quicken, you liquidize your memory hears us before your self begins to boil to foam and rise

We do not sell answers this is forbidden to us

We freely give any name in our mind ancient or weeks old – the histories bestowed on us, our heavy burden is also free

You offer, and we accept the night of rest warm nourishment a few small wooden plaques or old dominos

On our noisesome belts we carry towns, cities, roads, mountains, rivers objects strange and mundane process and plans plants and creatures favorite dishes passed down through generations

The only names we do not carry are human this too is forbidden

Your names, our names temporal or permanent these may be written only on the inside of an onion skin

We are cherished and hunted sought everywhere

Some bring us within their walls celebrate us, bestow upon us names newly made, or old stories newly learned They make us heavier. They give us more noise.

Others seek us to silence us to cut names from our belts to burn or bury They have many good reasons reasons we understand But we do not comply

We go to great lengths We protect ourselves

We were born the day the old net fell dissipated in distrust fragmented and cloistered

As the age of paper unfolded we quickly earned a natural trust and right to cross gates wander in and out of walls and gathered friends to walk with us to watch our backs against those who would lighten us

It did not take long for our numbers to grow As new waters came into the valley we walked along canals balances on the little walls met with carriers of salt rode with Fivers the length of their Way

In the days when paper cracked and peeled it is said one fourth of every other hold came to walk with us

New cultures bubble and foam across the plain Old paper blows and washes out to sea fresh skin glistens in the sun green and gold and pulsing

Our flow across fields the lines we draw between walled cities, far towers, open circles, wide farmsteads we acquire weight and thickness and shine into the glass eyes above dead and living bound to old nets and new gardens

In this way we speak The names we carry are tiny The names we carve into the earth reach for hundreds of miles

Words that stretch across the land these are the names of countries, cities, rivers, and mountains in our own secret tongue Forever unknown even to us none of us has ever seen them Glass eye above, you hold us. Liquid eye on the other side, we wait for you.

II.

It was March when she fell into the Vision The first March of the liquid days When the remnants of the fakery Still wet in the streets Waiting to be washed away Or dried into dust and carried off by winds

In April came the days of Seperation The waves of dreams from the east The flow over and under the Sierra Her Vision was a rock in the stream Vortices shed behind her

By May the formalities had fallen apart Concrete and sands shifting under the feet A shift quicker than anyone had anticipated The turning of some hidden mechanis Or opening of a door You looked behind you and it was already done

These were days of bright colors Of opening Unguided masses of the east Pulled through and into the searing valley This has happened again and again

But those who had crossed the sands Or walked the ridges and ravines Now floating just above every surface they crossed Tongues bound, silenced by the strength of that first pull She was the first to greet them

The current were strong in those days She took position in the center of the valey In the beginning it was only her senses With expert use of Overlay From the edge of her fields Alone under the sky

Then she sent her people unto the land To gather stones, the width of the circle And with this built her tower Rising from the middle of the San Joaquin

Those who came to her Learned to breathe that sacred water Soon word travelled on those currents And seekers came from all direction The wild marches of the north The communes and bastides of the valley Even the glistening shapes of the Bubble And then word spread to the mirror cults of the Southland

In those months of heat and haze She was visible only to those far wanderers Selected by her watchers Allies waiting at crossroads Or within the webs of aid that sprang up in those days Words and deeds sent to her By crow and bee

With Autumn came visiblity In other lands this is a time of darker skies Rain and turning leaf and cold wind Here it is the time of burning A new and focused heat

But distance is distance And light is light So here too we have that clarity That sharpness of season And so she began to glow Blue and violent spillig across fields Winding through canyons Crossing the horizon

Eyes awoke and turned to face her all at once They came for her – at first small and local groups The Bubblers to record and categorize To steal and mock and recreate The Christkeepers to silence and burn To meld and reshape and funnel

And then the air changed, the Southlanders came High ranking channelers of the miror cults in shining capes and glittering tights Envoys from the realms of Glendale, Cessna, Orange, Pasadean, Waterworld, and the Citadel, naked and direct, covered in shifting and confused signs Wanderers of the desert communes and priestesses of Salton, come with flowers , vines, and warnings

Overwhelmed and ever weary, she took from this widening flow And spun an elaborate filter A circle five miles around her tower Sinking into both sides of the river

Any who would approach her, the Source of San Joaquin Must carry a living plant, one year of age or older Not yet found within her Circle

Thus was born her famous garden

By December she had become fully real The flow into her Circle narrow, slow, intense The return into the world bright, jagged, searing They came with palm, succulent, and vine They left wrapped in currents and winds Eyes glowing, tears streaming

In January came the days of new accord When flowers turned to signs and letters Were wound over the gates of cities When Mia Marisol, in person, approached Bearing citrus micrantha And left with a map of ways to slip Between every mirror of the Southland

It was February when the waters around the tower Began to froth and rise as mist Unsnapped from the grid She divided and dissipated The line of her circle wound back up around its spool The tendrils of her garden, still bound to her Reaching for the sea.

III.

Those who cover themselves in empty signs And piecemeal tongues Those who live in loudness Wrapped in fragile image Snared and stretched and caught in the gaps Become as paint and pasetel Smeared gradient and shining dust This is your service and your bridge Become rose, become ultramarine, become lime, become magenta, become iris, become azure, become sienna, become canary, become puce, become mustard, become sea foam, become umber. become crimson, become ochre, become gold, become vermilloin, become feldspar, become violet, become sage...

#poetry #poem #california #san joaquin valley #speculative fiction #podcast #in a walled city

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emergenciesstory · 4 years ago

Text

Sea Shanty- Part 3

Masterlist

Pirate AU

See masterlist for warnings and summary.

*Y/n POV*

“Be ready boys! Storms gathering before us.” Bucky's voice rang out loudly by the door. You set your sword on the table, worry on your lip of keeping it safe. For the past two days, it was your safety net, but now, now you needed to help. Those on this ship spoke little to you, but they had soft smiles and kind words to you when jumping in.

You stepped out of the small cabin, lanterns lighting the ship as everyone moved quickly. Tucking your braid in your shirt, you moved out onto the upper decks. Flashes of light grew in the distance, and the wind was beginning to grow.

“Lang! Let’s aim to hit this storm in alignment, Northwest.” Bucky called out, a series of “aye, aye”’s following his order.

“What can I do?” You asked, looking over the organized chaos below.

“We have his, thank you, though.” Bucky said softly, looking down at you.

“All do respect, Captain, but I can work for my keep on your ship.” You said sternly, looking up at him.

“Good thing it’s not my ship.” Bucky chuckled back, a smile loosely held on his lips. “It’s Steves, and he would agree with me.”

“I only agree when you are not an idiot, which is slim to none.” Steve’s voice rang out, him moving quickly beside Bucky. “What was the question?” He addressed you with a kind smile, hand pulling the captain's hat from Bucky's head.

“I’d like to help. Where shall I jump in, Captain?” You asked, ignoring Bucky's antics. “I’ve worked with most of your crew in the past couple of days.”

“As I’ve seen. Help tie down the sails, and then report to Lang. I’m sure he’d enjoy your help keeping us on course, as it is your course.” Steve smiled, moving quickly to help on deck as well.

You nodded, moving quickly across the deck and climbing the post to help lower the closest sail. You felt eyes on you as you moved around, quickly jumping in with instruction from other crewmates. Buckys eyes locked on yours, and followed you as you moved back up to the middle deck, passing him to join Lang on the navigation deck.

“Hey, How can I help?” You said, watching the man look around the skies.

“Quite a storm we head towards.” His voice shook as he smiled in the rain. A soft laugh slipped from your lips.

“Nothing to worry about, you’ve got this.” You moved beside him, gesturing to the lightened space in the clouds. “That’s the eye, if we can get to it, we can resecure the decks as needed, then sail out.”

“I think we can handle that.” Lang said, pointing just west of the Eye. “I’ll sail us that a way, and the fighting currents should push us just into it.”

“Sounds perfect. As long as the winds don’t push us out.” You smiled, closing your eyes to the mist on your face. All the noise of the crew disappeared from your hearing, nothing but the sound of the waves crashing on themselves, the wind blowing on the ship, and the creaks of the old wood fighting back consuming your mind. You took another breath, listening to the winds before opening your eyes once again.

“You should be okay, maybe just adjust more West when we enter the worst of it?” You said softly, placing a hand on Langs shoulder and giving it a squeeze. He nodded, barking out plans to Steve on the deck.

Your eyes wandered to find him, listening intently to Langs guidance. You watched as crewmates finished their tasks above deck and moved below to secure the rest of the ship, which you had yet to explore. Making a mental note to check after the storm, you moved quickly across the deck to the point deck, looking ahead as lightning lit the dark waters. Everything but the storm faded from your senses, taking you back.

“The point deck, little miss, is the best place to captain your ship.” Your fathers voice was in your ear as he held you up on the railing.

“Why’s that?” You asked, looking back at the endless deck behind you both.

“Behind you is a crew who knows how to do their jobs, a first-mate to make sure they don’t need help, and a navigator who will keep you from capsizing.” He smiled, pointing in front of you. Your eyes followed the end of his finger, to the dolphins moving to the west.

“Before you is nothing but the sea, and all of the answers you need to prepare. Tell me, what do the dolphins tell you?” He asked.

“Weather moving from the East. We should keep West if anything comes, but steer East if we can not avoid it.” You said pointing towards the sky, finger tracing down from the sun.

“Good.” Your dad said, squeezing your sides as he lifted you, placing your feet back on the deck and taking his hat from atop your head. “These are things you miss when back on the Navigation deck. From here, you learn to speak to the cruel mistress that is the sea, and she will speak to you.”

A tear dripped down your face, the wind and rain making quick haste of clearing it from your face. You watched the ocean before you, tuning out the voices behind you.

___________

*Bucky’s POV*

Bucky watched as you effortlessly climbed the swaying ship, swinging down on one of the ropes, using yourself as a counterweight rather than pure strength. The crewmates moved with your assistance effortlessly, some seeming to appreciate your quick movement. His eyes stayed locked on you as you joined Lang, listening intently and adding your own advice. He heard your soft laugh fall in the middle of the panic and urgency of the situation and couldn't help but smile.

Bucky moved after a pointed shout from Steve, securing the upper deck and the doors to the Captains and First mate quarters. He turned back to find you, only seeing you were no longer with Lang. Panic filled his chest as he moved swiftly down to the deck.

“Below deck!” Steve called from where he stood at the entrance.

“Secure!” Rang out from various depths, echoing as the message was passed up.

“Eyes on Her?” Bucky asked, receiving no call backs.

“Point.” Steve gestured to a dark figure at the opening deck of the ship, the rain picking up harshly.

“Is she crazy?” Bucky said, shock crossing his face.

“I think she knows more than we think.” Steve gripped his friend's arm, gaining his attention. “You don’t think..?”

Bucky looked at Steve, reading his unasked question through his eyes. He looked back at your figure, holding the railing lightly, unswayed by the rocking of the ship.

“She couldn’t be, could she?” He asked softly.

“No one has seen her since she was little. Stark hid her once she hit maturity.” Steve shrugged. “Rumor was she went to school, joined society with her mother, became a lady.”

Bucky looked at his friend, giving his shoulder a squeeze as he repeated your words from the first day.

“She’s no Lady.”

#Pirate!AU #reader x bucky #Steve

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fableweaver · 6 years ago

Text

Arc of the Witch Twins

Riding through the Mark Bailey found she felt both at home and in a whole new place. The north eastern Mark was not what she had expected as they traveled the trade road. The western Mark had been mostly farms and hills, woods between them. Here the land was barren, tall golden-brown grasses of sandreed and junegrass rolling over the hills. Bailey could see for leagues in all directions and they had left behind much of the settled southern lands.

“We’re riding through the northern highlands,” Loris said as they rode, noting Bailey’s fascination with the landscape. Off in the distance on the horizon Bailey could just make out a line of mountains, the Ionnfell Mountains. They weren’t as large as the Weir Mountains, but it was hard to tell given how far away they were.

“Where the ponies be from,” Bailey said, and Loris nodded.

“They were bred here,” Loris answered. “There are many wild horses in these lands, we’ve breed the wild blood into them.”

“N why we be headin north n nowt just east?” Bailey asked.

“We have business this way,” Loris answered. “And riding these roads will be faster because there isn’t any traffic.”

Bailey nodded and shivered at the bitter wind. Snow had fallen in a blanket over the night; they had been on the road for a week now and in the northern lands snow had begun to fall. The snow was dry though unlike the wet snow of the moors that seeped into everything, the wind blowing the snow over the ground to rest in great drifts against hills. The snow was only as deep as the ankle and the horses handled it well.

“Should we rest?” Loris asked seeing her shiver.

“Nowt I be fine,” Bailey said. “We can keep ridin.”

“You’re sure?” Loris asked looking to Matt. Bailey had bundled him up and now he was swaddled along her back in a basket carrier. He was quiet, probably asleep. Bailey had convinced a sylph to stand guard near him to keep the wind off the babe, but it didn’t spare her the occasional nip.

“Aye I be sure,” Bailey answered.

“I understand you are a new mother Bailey,” Loris said sounding worried. “Traveling with a child so young can be dangerous. He could fall ill very easily, and winter is setting in.”

“I be a Green Witch o the Moors,” Bailey said calmly. “I have powers I’ve been usin ta care fer mine child, n he too has this power what answers my own. He won’t fall ill so easily. N as ye said, winter be settin in, we need ta hurry ifn we are ta reach Alda.”

Loris sighed and nodded, riding forward on his own.

“Ye baint mention he were sick afore,” Pepper said riding next to her sister.

“Aye, but what I said be true,” Bailey said. “My powers protect him, ifn he were a normal child I ken we’d never make this journey.”

Her silent worry for Will echoed in her words. Will did not have her to protect him with her powers like Matt did. Ian could do some of the things she could, command the Wild Kin to protect and nourish, but he couldn’t do the more subtle work. Bailey had felt her powers growing when she tended to Matt, her will strengthening him as she fed power to him in her milk.

“Melanthios says this be true,” Pepper said. “He says Ian can protect Will just as much.”

Bailey only nodded and kept the little hope close to her heart.

They rode through the northern highlands alone except for the Rangers. Only as they rode some of the Rangers would ride off on their own. They had their own duties in these lands; this was where the Mark’s vast reserves of cattle came from. None of those cattle could be seen now after Isra’s Night had come. Like the revers that brought in the wheat the drovers had brought in the cattle for the slaughter. They had missed the great cattle drives by a matter of weeks, all that was left were vast trails of hoof prints and cow pies.

It had meant though that dried meat was at a premium and in the few towns they passed the rangers bought trail rations cheaply. The towns they passed through were flooded with drovers, taverns bursting with drunk and rowdy men. All these places became dead silent when the rangers rode through. They were the law of these places, and often one of their party had to stay behind to watch the town or settle a dispute that had gone on.

“Baint ye ever stay in these towns?” Bailey asked Loris as they rode one day.

“Our way is much like the drover,” Loris answered. “We move from place to place making sure the law is up held. Here in the highlands it is the hardest part of the kingdom to enforce so most of the rangers are in these areas. There aren’t enough of us to patrol all this land, we have to move around.”

“How many rangers be there?” Bailey asked.

“Less than a hundred for all of the Mark,” Loris answered, and Bailey gaped at him. “We are an elite group, the training takes a long time, and we only get members through volunteer. Not many men volunteer for this type of work.”

“Why did ye?” Bailey asked.

“My father was a ranger,” Loris said with a grin. “Loris Hays, I was named after him. He served in the wars like Taras; he died though trying to arrest a highwayman out here in the highlands. Taras in turn hunted the man down and brought back his head.”

Bailey only nodded; Loris had told the tale over the fire before. Many of the other rangers had stories like this of Taras saving their lives or aiding them beyond the normal means. Her attention strayed then to the horizon and saw dark clouds there. A storm was coming.

“Crap,” Loris said following her gaze. “We need to hurry.”

“Why?” Pepper asked, having seen the storm as well. “It be leagues off.”

“Out here in the highlands storms move fast,” Loris answered. “That’s a blizzard and if we’re caught in that we’re dead. It’s still an hour from the next town too.”

“Wait,” Pepper said hearing Melanthios whisper to her.

:We can subvert the storm still, you have the power to do so:

:How?: Pepper asked in her mind.

:Summon a greater sylph to hold back the one in the storm: Melanthios answered.

:Baint that make the storm worse?:

:It will but the storm sylph will battle the other leagues from here: Melanthios answered. :Away from us and over empty wilderness.:

:Alright: Pepper said and turned to Bailey. “We need ta call a greater sylph.”

Bailey seemed doubtful but nodded. Pulling her mitten off she held her hand out to Pepper who did the same. Looking to the sky the twins searched for a sylph to summon. Lesser sylphs rode the small winds that tousled the hair and rustled the grass on the ground. The greater sylphs lived higher in the sky beyond where even birds flew. They could barely be seen so far away, only in the shape of clouds and the swirling winds far above.

Pepper at last spotted one and pointed it out to her sister. Bailey nodded and both turned their minds to the sylph, putting their will and power into calling out to it. The sylph, a swirl of cloud far in the sky, turned to them and began to descend. A wind stirred and blew the snow on the ground about in a great flurry of crystals.

“Great Un!” Pepper shouted before the sylph could descend anymore and risk blowing them over with the wind of its presence. “We call ye ta battle!” She pointed off towards the storm and the sylph turned to look as well. The winds seemed to huff and both sensed the sylph’s reaction to this suggestion.

“Why should I care?” It asked wordlessly with a gust of wind.

“It dares cross ye Great Un?” Pepper asked, using her will to convey the meaning of her words to the Sylph. The Wild Kin did not speak in words, but in ideas only those with the Elder Magic could understand them and be understood by them. Pepper saw this idea ripple through the sylph; it did not like the other sylph so near its skies.

“Ye be greater than it,” Bailey shouted, and the Sylph and the wind blew harder. The Sylph launched itself off into the sky in a gust of wind that nearly drove the horses to their knees. When the cloud of snow settled after the passage of the Sylph, they saw it racing through the sky in a streak of cloud that darkened as it moved.

The other sylph turned to meet it and the two storm Sylphs met in a clash of thunder that roared through the sky in a resonance that echoed for leagues.

“What just happened?” Loris asked in a small voice.

“The storm will tire out afore it reaches us,” Pepper answered. “We should keep movin though afore we get caught in another.”

Loris only nodded numbly as he and the other rangers gazed at them in fear and awe. They may have seen the twins cast the protection spell over the wall of Warren, but this was a magic of healing and peace. Now they had seen the teeth of the beast and found they were sharp.

They rode on over the highlands staying just ahead of the terrible winter weather. They left a ranger behind at almost every town they passed through until after two weeks the only one left with them was Loris. They rode out of the highlands, down hills and dikes much like those they had passed through to get up into the highlands. There were no borders or obvious change to the landscape, just a subtle change over a few days from the high grasslands to low lands of small woods and fields.

Bailey wondered when they would reach the border or if they had passed it already without her knowing. Two weeks after leaving Warren they arrived at the border and Bailey and Pepper gazed in amazement. The forest border was marked by a wall of giant trees, their branches interlocking and imposing. On the ground brambles grew like a wall, thorns and briars bristling. The Colored One’s season was strong now, though many of the trees had dropped their leaves already.

“How do we get in?” Pepper asked in amazement. She had thought they could just ride into Alda anywhere, but it looked like a wall had grown around the border.

“There is a gate a little south of here where trading goes on,” Loris answered. “Sort of. The Aldan leave the goods there, they are picked up and payment is left. They watch from the trees to make sure the payment is given and shot those who try to steel. Alda used to be a safe haven for escaped slaves from Dridia, now after their borders closed many slaves flee into the Mark only to be sent back if caught.”

“Ye baint wanna anger the mages eh?” Pepper said with scorn.

“Neither would you after what they did to Warren,” Loris answered.

“Sos no uns been inta Alda since the wars?” Bailey asked.

“No one that isn’t of Aldan blood,” Loris answered. “They even sent the Elmerians out of their borders. This wall wasn’t always here; they grew it to keep people out.”

Bailey looked up at the forest wall and felt sad for the Aldan that they felt the need to close out the world to such an extent. They rode south and shortly before midday they reached the gate. It really was a gate, a gap in the wall of trees and briars was there but suspended above it on ropes was a giant bolder that looked like it could be dropped to close the gap. Though this wall was living it looked like only fire could make any difference in getting through the wall. No one could be seen guarding the gate, but as soon as they rode up to it two figures dropped down from the trees.

Both men held bows drawn and ready and were dressed in a camouflage of dark greens and browns. They were both Aldan telling by their lithe builds, but their faces and heads were covered with hood and cowl.

“Halt,” the one on the left commanded and they complied. “Who are you to try and enter the forest lands?”

“My name is Loris Hays a ranger of the Mark,” Loris answered. “I bring two who are of Aldan blood seeking to find their lost kin. This is Bailey and Pepper of Daun.”

The bows lowered but were not put away, the arrows still sitting on their strings.

“Dismount and step forward,” the guard commanded. Pepper hesitated scowling at him but Bailey complied. Sighing Pepper followed her sister as they dismounted and walked forward to meet the two guards. Bailey could see their eyes; they held more, blue than purple in their eyes. The two guards walked around them both examining them. The one looking at Bailey stopped when he noticed Matt and examined him as well. Both were silent until they faced them again, their faces unreadable under their masks.

“Who are your kin?” the guard asked. Bailey pulled their mother’s ring out and held it out to the guard. The man examined it and then grew tense. “Where did you get this?”

“It were our mother’s,” Bailey answered.

“She died givin birth ta us,” Pepper added. Both men were staring at them and Bailey worried they didn’t believe them. Then they pulled off their cowls and hoods, both were handsome men with fair skin and silver hair. They bowed low to the twins, their hands over their hearts.

“Welcome home princesses,” they said together, and Bailey felt herself blush.

“Stop that,” Pepper said embarrassed as she reached out to push both men back upright. “We baint be royals er nowt, we came here ta seek our kin.”

“Who are royals,” the guard said. “Queen Alora is your great aunt.”

“Be there any more?” Bailey asked.

“Yes, but we will leave the reunion to you.”

“Thank ye,” Bailey said. “Sos we may continue on?”

“You may but the ranger may not,” the guard said looking up at Loris.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Loris answered. “I’ve other duties to attend to and I am not allowed to leave the Mark at this time. Safe travels to you Bailey and Pepper.”

“N ta ye,” Bailey said. “Thank ye fer yer aid.”

“The horses are yours, they’ll serve you well,” Loris said as he turned his horse away.

“Farewell!” Pepper called after him and Loris waved over his shoulder.

“You will need a guide through the woods,” the guard said. “But we cannot leave our post. Ride on following the path and you will find a village not far from here. Find the Lady Myers, she will see a guide is found for you.”

“Thank ye,” Bailey said as she mounted again. Pepper did as well, and they rode into the trees. Pepper turned in her saddle, but the two men had disappeared into the trees again. She turned back to look at the forest before them. The trees had closed around them in a crowd of thick branches and dense foliage. Bailey and Pepper knew nothing of forests; they only had experience with apple trees and hawthorns that grew out on the moors.

These were nothing compared to the giants that grew around them. Pines and redwoods stood tall and straight, oaks and maples were now bare of leaves. Blackberry bushes and giant ferns grew between the trees covering the ground in dense undergrowth. Over everything grew a thick moss that muffled sound as they rode through the trees along the narrow path. The path twisted and turned so much Bailey and Pepper almost rode past the village.

Both were surprised to see how the Aldan built their homes. The houses were all pods like the growth of a bud, standing high off the ground on the trunk of a dead tree or along the sides of the trunk like growths. There were five of these towers of the village, so well concealed they almost seemed like trees themselves.

The Aldan leapt down from their homes with a grace and ease of cats, climbing down from the trees easily. They hurried forward warily but intrigued since they had been let past. The twins dismounted, but the crowd kept back from them until a woman approached, the crowd parting to let her through.

She was a tall lithe Aldan woman, her pale-yellow hair braided intricately. She wore leather armor over brown clothes, a sash of dull orange the only color she wore. She had high cheek bones, but big purple eyes. Her pointed ears were pierced in several places with silver rings and studs, a chain connecting a few of the rings.

“Who are you? Did the border guards let you past?” She asked in a throaty timber.

“My name be Bailey n this be mine twin Pepper. We come seekin our lost kin.”

She withdrew her mother’s ring and passed it on again. The woman examined it and her ears quivered with surprise. She slowly handed the ring back, several eyes following the flash of silver.

“I am Kaelynn Myers, Countess of Ford’s Woods,” She said with a bow her hand over her heart. “Welcome to Everdell and Alda milady.”

The crowd whispered and shifted around like trees in the wind, some bowed as well.

“Come, you must be weary from your journey,” Kaelynn said. She turned and Bailey and Pepper followed her, serval people taking charge of the horses. Kaelynn led the way to one of the towers and started to climb up by a ladder carven into the trunk. Pepper followed next and then Bailey, who made sure Matt was secure on her back. The ladder led to a platform where rope bridges led to other towers, but Kaelynn continued to go up, this time using a set of spiral stairs.

They climbed all the way to the top, entering the largest pod on the tower. Inside was neat and orderly, a few house plants sitting by windows and a book shelf was built into one wall. A fire warmed the room, burning on a stone hearth in the kitchen. Bailey started to ease Matt off her back and Pepper turned to help her. Once the babe was out of his basket and unwrapped, he began to cry. Bailey soothed him holding him close.

Kaelynn offered her a seat at the table and both sat as Bailey calmed her child. Kaelynn set about making tea, setting out a light meal of tea, almond cakes, cheese and bread, and russet apples. They ate, Bailey nursing Matt until he settled down to sleep in her arms.

“You are lucky,” Kaelynn said enviously gazing at Matt who slept soundly. “Many of our kind have had trouble conceiving. We fear the Aldan blood is growing thin.”

“Why?” Pepper asked.

“We don’t know, but the past few generations fewer children have been born,” Kaelynn said. “With our long lives it has never seemed to matter until more of us have died than those who are born.”

Bailey looked to Pepper who looked back at her with a look that said: not yet.

“Ye believe us though when we say we be Eileen’s daughters?” Bailey asked.

“Of course, you have her ring and her eyes,” Kaelynn said. “I have seen a painting of her, you both resemble her. Not entirely, your skin and features are slightly different. Where are you from?”

“Daun, the northern moors o Orna,” Pepper answered, and Kaelynn looked surprised.

“I am sure that there is a long tale to this,” Kaelynn said. “I would like to hear it but you are weary. Come and rest and we can talk later.”

“There still be daylight left,” Pepper said. “We be eager ta get ta Alma n meet our kin.”

“Why?” Kaelynn said. “You are safe now in our borders there is no need to rush.”

“Aye but He Who Bites baint be kind ta travelers,” Pepper said. “We’d like ta get ta Alma afore the Colored Un gives way ta He Who Bites.”

“True,” Kaelynn said nodding. “I forgot what time of year it was. I will be your guide.”

“Ye be sure?” Bailey asked. “Baint ye be needed here?”

“I can leave for a short time,” Kaelynn said. “Especially now with He Who Bites near, winter is a slow time for us and there is little to do. The village can function without me for a short time. Just let me go make arrangements. Rest here while I see everything prepared, we’ll leave in an hour.”

She stood and left, leaving Bailey and Pepper alone in the house.

“Can we trust her?” Bailey asked.

“Aye I trust her,” Pepper said. “Only reason I baint wanna tell our tale because it’ll take too long. I wanna get goin.”

She could feel He Who Bites on the horizon as he started to sink his cold teeth in the air. Once winter set in they would be trapped where ever they were, and Pepper wanted that to be Alma.

They set out within the hour like Kaelynn had promised. Their sturdy highland ponies didn’t seem to mind the brief rest. Kaelynn rode a sorrel mare that seemed ready for a ride. They rode out of Everdell with little ceremony, the Aldan watching them go silently.

“It is tradition when seeing a traveler off to stand and watch until they are out of sight,” Kaelynn said. “But the traveler must never turn back, it is bad luck.”

It didn’t take long to be out of sight of the village, the trees closed around them once more. So began their journey into another world. The forest paths were never straight, but Kaelynn navigated them easily. Only the evergreens still had their green foliage, the rest had all dropped their leaves. Often in the mornings there was a heavy mist over everything that didn’t burn off until midday or even later. Frost and ice started to cover the ground and trees, hoar frost taking many shapes over the branches of trees and ferns.

It had yet to snow, but Bailey didn’t doubt it was far off. They told Kaelynn their story as they rode, but kept out the Phay and their powers for fear of how she would take it. Such news could wait until they were reunited with their great aunt. Kaelynn seemed to take her role as guide as if she needed to educate the twins about Alda. She told them about history, customs, trade, and much else throughout the kingdom.

It became apparent after a few days of travel that the woods were a lonely place. There were no other travelers on the forest roads, though this could have been because there were many roads through the forest. That was what Bailey thought until they passed through an abandoned village. The pod homes were empty, their windows boarded up and the gardens left to grow wild. It was eerie, a place of life that no longer held that life.

“After the King’s Wars the queen ordered smaller villages to be abandoned,” Kaelynn said as they rode through the village. “There are not many large cities in Alda; Alma is the only one of any real size. There are a few other cities through the woods, however. The Lords have gathered in these places for safety.”

“That many died?” Pepper said amazed.

“Many good men and women died in the King’s Wars,” Kaelynn answered. “But as I said fewer have been born of late. Alda’s population has never been this low.”

“Why then did ye make the Elmerians leave?” Bailey asked. “Ye could breed with other races. Or do ye care only bout purity.”

Kaelynn turned in the saddle to look at her, her eyes were sad rather than reproachful.

“Had you grown up in Alda you would know,” Kaelynn said. “It is extremely rare to conceive a half Aldan child. By any of the other races, we have tried but hardly ever does a child come of the match. In a match between two Aldans, the likelihood of bearing a child is two to one; in a match with a non Aldan it is one to ten.”

“But…”

“Yes, I know,” Kaelynn said with a grin. “Then what about you two? Twins! It is a bit more likely when the female of the couple is Aldan, but still. Twins have not been seen in Alda for generations. And not only that, but one of you has in turn born twins as well.”

“It runs in our da’s side o the family,” Bailey said.

“Then Eileen must have found a compatible match,” Kaelynn said amazed. There was something in her eyes that made Pepper uncomfortable, but Kaelynn turned away before she could place it. “Come, if we keep this pace up we can reach Alma in six more days.”

They had been traveling for four already, Bailey amazed by the time it took. It had seemed like it would take them forever through the winding roads of the forest. Yet Kaelynn seemed to know the roads well, and their horses were willing to run. They covered the distance to Alma in ten days and the twins got a look at their ancestral home.

They both gaped at the tall structures of homes, the many bridges that connected them, and the foliage that hid the city. Here was Alda in all its glory.

“Alma, the City in the Pines,” Kaelynn said fondly. “It was Alda’s capital long before Versae which became the seat of the High King when the Kingdoms were formed. But before that Alma had been the central home for all of our people.”

“It be beautiful,” Bailey said amazed.

“There is much more to see, but come,” Kaelynn said. “I had sent a message ahead of us by bird. The Queen is expecting you.”

She led them to a stable on the ground where they could stable their horses. Then they walked off into the trees. Kaelynn climbed up easily into the trees, Bailey and Pepper following her much less agile. Pepper wondered why they had chosen to arrange their city like this; it was fairly hard to get around. Then she saw several young Aldan swinging by on vines or ropes. It looked like there were faster ways around the city than the bridges or walkways. Thankfully Kaelynn did keep to the footpaths.

They gathered quite a few stares as they walked by, many whispered or pointed as they walked by. The twins certainly stuck out, their complexion the main reason. The Aldan were all fair of skin, none darker than a touch of tan from the sun. Bailey and Pepper were the mud brown complexion of the Daunish. The looks weren’t hostile however, merely astonished. Bailey noted that many men had taken note of them as well. Pepper noticed as well and as usual took these glances as a challenge rather than a compliment.

The twins however lost sight of the people around them when they reached the palace. Both gapped like the country girls they were at the massive structure before them. The great domes and spires seemed all the more impossible because they rested a good five stories off the ground on great pillars of timber. They almost hesitated to enter such a grand place, but Kaelynn urged them on. At the great doors stood guards armed with long lances of birch wood. Kaelynn bowed to the guard and he bowed in turn.

“I am Kaelynn Myers, Countess of Ford’s Woods, escorting the ladies Bailey and Pepper Alvar to the Queen Alora Tira-Dora,” Kaelynn said. Bailey felt her heart nearly stop at the use of the name Alvar; it had not been spoken so in over twenty years.

“The princesses are welcome to the house of their kin,” the guard said as he bowed to them. Numb with shock Kaelynn had to drag both Bailey and Pepper into the palace by the arms. There in the great hall they were confronted with the statue of the last Aldan High King. He looked regal and proud carven out of green marble, but the twins felt little connection to the man.

“He was your first cousin once removed,” Kaelynn said looking up at the statue. “And a great man.”

Whose death started a war, but Pepper chose not to say that. After all it wasn’t Terrian’s fault that he had died with no children or even immediate siblings. A servant suddenly appeared and led them off into the palace, through a never-ending series of hallways and stairs. Bailey and Pepper were both astonished by the wealth of art, statues, and paintings in the palace. They were both beginning to feel the gap that separated them from their kin.

The servant stopped before a set of double doors and opened them. Inside was a sitting room richly furnished and decorated.

“This is where I leave you to the servants,” Kaelynn said. “I’ll stick around a few days to help you two adjust.”

With that she was gone leaving Bailey and Pepper with the servant.

“A bath has been drawn and gowns prepared milady,” the servant said with a bow, indicating the door on the far left. “Please prepare at your leisure, dinner will be served with your kin in the hour.”

He closed the doors with a soft click and Pepper gave a sigh of relief that he was gone.

“I were worried he were gonna help us wash,” Pepper muttered. As soon as she spoke she felt how crass her country Daunish accent sounded in such luxurious environments.

“We’d best get ready,” Bailey said, not bothering to hide her accent. There was no way to erase it in an hour, just as they couldn’t scrub their skin until it was as white as the Aldan’s. Pepper nodded and helped Bailey take Matt off her back. The bathroom floor was lined with green marble, the walls and ceiling plaster painted to resemble a forest scene. The tub was made of green marble as well sunken into the floor and full of steaming water. The tub was easily the size of a small pool, large enough to fit five people.

They washed using the many soaps and shampoos, some of which had come from Lir. They didn’t soak long though they easily could have in such a large tub. Once again Matt didn’t seem to like the bath water so they left the bath. They dried off on big fluffy towels and went into the adjoining bedroom. There on the large four post bed they found their gowns for the evening.

Pepper immediately noticed the similarity to the one that the dwarves had made her. The gowns were long and flowing, made of the finest pale lavender silk. When Pepper looked closely she could see the intricate imprint work of vines over the hems of the silk. They dressed and combed out their hair.

“I kennin we should let our hair lay free,” Bailey said as embarrassed as she was about it. The gowns were backless, and she felt uncomfortable without her hair covering her bare skin. Besides twin braids would have looked silly with such a gown.

“Aye,” Pepper said. Looking at her sister however she realized that it would be hard to tell them apart with their hair down. She already felt as if she was looking in a mirror. There was a box on the bed as well and lifting it Pepper found it contained two silver circlets along with fine silver chain necklaces. They donned the jewelry, Pepper glad that it wasn’t as heavy as Dwarvish jewelry had been.

Bailey dressed Matt in a baby gown that had been with their clothes, the babe sucking on his thumb as his mother dressed him. As Bailey dressed him Pepper lifted Melanthios.

:Should I bring ye?: Pepper asked the dragon blade.

: I would like to be part of the discussion of the Phay: Melanthios answered. :Though I am not sure where you would keep me in that gown of yours.:

Pepper ignored that and belted him on over her gown. Dressed they turned from the bedroom and went back out into the hall through the sitting room. The servant waited as if he hadn’t even moved. He glanced at them and Bailey noted his eyes flicker over both in appreciation. He also took note of both Matt in Bailey’s arms and Melanthios at Pepper’s side, but said nothing about either.

He bowed to them and led the way off again through the halls. Bailey suspected they were always going to need a guide through the halls of the palace, she was lost already. The servant led them to a private dining room, the room decorated with paintings. Great windows looked out into the trees, showing the city lights through the foliage. At the great oak table sat four people.

It was impossible to tell the ages of those gathered there for only one person looked above the age of twenty. The old woman looked ancient, so old Pepper didn’t dare guess her age. The other woman was beautiful sitting at the head of the table she wore a silver circlet much like the twins wore. The other two were men of such similar features they had to be related. Bailey noticed though one of the men had crow’s feet around his eyes, subtle lines that were hard to see.

The woman at the head of the table smiled warmly at their entry and stood. She walked over to them with her arms out, taking both twins by their free hands.

“Welcome my kin,” she said warmly. “I thought it best your first night here was with blood kin only. I am Alora Tira-Dora, your great aunt.”

Bailey noted she did not mention she was also the Queen of Alda. It seemed like her relation to them was more important than her status.

“At the table here is my nephew Cyrus Tira-Dora,” Alora said indicating the younger of the two men. “And this is your great grandfather Lemuel Tira-Dora.” The older of the men nodded to them with a kind smile. “And this is Iscah Alvar, your great grandmother.”

Bailey was surprised anyone of the Alvar house was still alive, but Iscah looked so old she wasn’t surprised the woman had been spared from the Drasirs after the wars. If she was their great grandmother that would mean she had to have been the High Queen of the Nine Kingdoms in her time. She must have been over a hundred years old.

“It be an honor ta meet all o ye,” Bailey said softly in awe, Pepper seemed lost for words. “I be Bailey n this be mine twin Pepper.”

“Is this your son?” Alora asked looking at Matt.

“Aye, this be Matt,” Bailey said.

“May I?” Alora asked as she held out her hands. Bailey handed Matt over, the babe looking up at Alora wide eyed. Alora smiled at him, seeming in wonder of the child. “Come, you must sit. Diner will be served soon.”

Alora went to the table still holding Matt and the twins followed. They sat at the table where a great of array of silverware was lain out before them. Servants came in and dishes were set before them. The first course was a light vegetable broth. They ate silently, Pepper almost hypnotized by the elegant movements of the Aldan. Even Iscah in her vast age still moved with an innate grace.

The diner continued in a flurry of dishes, Bailey and Pepper barely able to identify some of the delicacies place before them. Everything was arranged perfectly on the plate in tiny portions, and each was more delicious than the last. The twins tried to copy their hosts in the use of their silverware and movements, but they both felt as if they failed. After one sip of the wine Bailey decided to stay clear of it, it tasted very strong. Pepper did the same though she was tempted to indulge.

The last dish was an apple tart with a vanilla icing that lingered in the mouth after they finished. The dishes were swept away by servants and Bailey wondered at how many dishes they must have to wash. Alora handed Matt back because he was starting to cry.

“I think he is hungry,” Alora said as Bailey took him back. Bailey blushed and looked around, but Alora smiled at her. “Go ahead, we are all family here.”

Bailey loosened her dress and let Matt begin to suckle only because his cries were making her breasts ache. She looked up to see Alora gazing at her with envy.

“There be much we need ta discuss,” Pepper said, noticing Alora’s look as well.

“There is much we would like to know,” Lemuel said calmly. “Like how Eileen managed to find her way to Daun.”

“Our life story be much more complicated,” Bailey said. She and Pepper began to tell them their story, repeating what Taras had discovered about their mother. Then she got into the Phay and the march. Telling by the reactions around the table this was not a surprise to the Aldan. When she told them about the Crippled One and the danger, he posed those faces turned grim. She told them about Melanthios, and Pepper showed them the dragon blade, sharing her story of her time among the dwarves.

“So we seek the song ta aid the Phay in the march,” Bailey finished. Matt had finished suckling and had fallen asleep in her arms. “We were hopin it had returned here.”

“If the March of the Phay had found its way back here we would know it,” Lemuel said gravely. “Any Aldan would know what it was and bring it to the palace. The last it was seen of was when it left our borders where you picked up the trail of it in Daun.”

Bailey couldn’t hide her disappointment, but Pepper didn’t look surprised. Still they had accomplished something, they had just ruled out a whole kingdom of searching.

“Aren’t you going about this the wrong way?” Alora asked. “You seek the stone flute when what you really should be searching for is Eileen reborn. Only she can play the song and she can find it better than anyone else.”

“Searchin fer Eileen seemed impossible,” Pepper said. “She could be any un, male er female, o any age, across any kingdom. Melanthios says he’d ken her when he saw her, but he baint seen her.”

“Have you considered she hasn’t been born yet?” Alora asked. Startled Pepper looked to Melanthios for an answer.

:I hadn’t considered that: he admitted. :It is possible.:

“Ifn she baint be born yet then what can we do?” Pepper asked both Melanthios and Alora. “She’ll be too young ta play the song.”

“Time is different between worlds,” Alora said. “We may still have years until the Phay do march.”

Melanthios confirmed this with a silent mental affirmation.

“Then findin Eileen will be even harder than we kenned,” Bailey said wearily.

“Not if we bring her to us,” Alora said her eyes bright. Bailey was curious, but Pepper grew wary. “You said she could be reborn as anyone and that isn’t quite true. She can only be reborn as someone with powerful Elder Magic and that only comes from a long blood line of Aldan. In fact Eileen can only be reborn as an Aldan. Since she has not appeared in Alda I believe it is safe to assume she has not been reborn.”

“We weren’t born in Alda,” Pepper objected.

“You two are a fluke,” Alora answered. “Those of half Aldan blood born outside of Alda wouldn’t be powerful enough in the Elder Magic to be Eileen. I suspect that she is most often reborn in her own bloodline, since the Alvars have been the strongest in the Elder Magic. You two are the last of the direct Alvar bloodline.

“You two are the only ones who can give birth to Eileen.”

Pepper looked around the table, but she knew Alora was right. Iscah had been married into the Alvar house, and the others were of the Tira-Dora house. Her mind turned to Melanthios for an answer.

:I’m afraid she is right. If Eileen really hasn’t been reborn then only you two have the power to birth her. In fact that gives a certain symmetry to this as well since Mab and Titania are twins and Mab is Eileen’s mother.:

Pepper turned away from the dragon blade and glared at Alora. She opened her mouth ready to object hotly when Bailey’s hand took her own. Startled Pepper turned to Bailey to see her sister was calmly certain.

“But Bailey,” Pepper whispered. “What bout Ian?”

Bailey winced at the mention of his name, pain of heartbreak stealing her breath. She looked away down at Matt asleep in her arms. They knew he was not Eileen reborn, Melanthios would have told them, but Bailey felt sure he was powerful in the Elder Magic. Looking at him now despite his Aldan features she felt sure she could see a touch of Ian in his features. As hurt as she felt about this, she also knew it was what she had to do.

“I will do what needs ta be done,” Bailey said softly meeting Alora’s eyes. Alora nodded and looked to Pepper. Pepper looked away, waring with herself. She was terrified of what they were asking, and at the same time she knew they were right.

:Are you really going to let your sister shield you like this again?: Melanthios’ voice was like the whisper of her own guilt.

“So will I,” Pepper said lowly and Alora nodded.

“Good, I already have two men in mind for your marriage…”

“Marriage?” Bailey said startled.

“Ye planned this?” Pepper asked hotly.

“I have taken it upon myself to see couples formed throughout the nobility,” Alora answered. “I know every available man in my court and I just chose these two now simply because they are the most stubborn of the men I have tried to get to settle down. Yes you will have to marry them, or would you have your child be a bastard?”

Her authoritative motherly tone put both in their place and they looked away from her stern glare. The others seemed to defer to her on this matter; Iscah though seemed to be asleep.

“No ma’am,” Pepper answered.

“Good,” Alora said and stood, pulling Bailey and Pepper to their feet as well. She went to the door and opened it, ushering two men who must have been waiting there. Both were handsome, though one was so stunningly handsome he made the other seem almost plain in comparison. The more average one looked at the twins with fascination while the other looked at them in utter shock.

“May I present the Lord Ashel Roth Ai,” Alora said indicating the handsome man; “And the Lord Kaden Odell. Gentlemen these are Bailey and Pepper, my grandnieces.”

Lord Ashel seemed to recover from his shock and quickly bowed to them.

“My life is now complete to have met the most beautiful maidens in all the Nine Kingdoms,” he said smoothly, and Pepper snorted with distain. Ashel looked at her a bit cross that she had ruined his flowery speech.

“It be a pleasure milord,” Bailey said to cover her sister’s rude response.

“N ye?” Pepper said looking to the Lord Kaden who was still staring at them. She noted however he didn’t seem to be staring in any amorous or lustful way, but more like he was studying them. “What do ye have ta say?”

“Umber,” Kaden said softly. “With maybe a hint of ash gray or maybe russet…”

“Lord Kaden is a painter,” Alora said glaring slightly at Kaden, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I believe he is trying to figure out what color paint to use for your skin tone. Lord Ashel is a poet; he is very popular right now.”

Ashel preened under the praise, but Kaden didn’t seem to notice at all.

“Both are the notorious bachelors of court right now,” Alora said. “I have been trying very hard to match them; I believe something new is all they needed. Perhaps each of you would like to spend a bit of time together to decide which you would like to be pared with? I will give you that choice at least.”

Pepper looked to Bailey, who could tell her sister had at least already made up her mind. She wanted to choose the lesser of the two evils in this case.

“Nowt, I kennin we already made our decision,” Bailey said. “I’d like ta choose the Lord Ashel ta be mine husband. Ifn he will have me.”

“Milady I am honored you would choose one so humble as myself,” Ashel said with another bow.

“N I’ll take the Lord Kaden,” Pepper said. “Ifn he’d get his head out o the clouds.”

Alora elbowed Kaden discreetly and he seemed to snap out of his contemplations.

“Ah yes,” Kaden said looking around. “What were we talking about?”

“Your marriage to the Lady Pepper,” Alora said. Kaden looked at Pepper and she felt her skin tingle at his intense gaze, realizing he was looking at her far more deeply than before and seeing more than just her appearance.

“Very well,” Kaden said. “I will marry you, if you would have me.”

“Aye,” Pepper said suddenly intrigued.

:He has power: Melanthios said. :He was gazing into your soul just then.:

“Wonderful,” Alora said sounding so happy she sounded almost girlish. “We shall hold the weddings three days from now.”

“Three days!” Pepper said surprised.

“Lun’s Day is an auspicious day,” Alora said. “And we already have everything ready for a large celebration. It is a good day for a double wedding.”

Pepper looked away feeling shocked, Bailey seeing her sister’s distress.

“It’s been a long day fer us both,” Bailey said. “I kennin it be best we go get some rest sos we can prepare fer the wedding.”

“Of course,” Alora said kindly. “Go and rest, we will see to it all is prepared.”

“Thank ye,” Bailey said with a bow. She took Pepper by the arm and led her out of the dining room. A servant was waiting and without a word he led them off back to their room. Once they were alone in the bedroom and Matt was put to sleep Pepper groaned.

“How did this happen?” Pepper asked. “Taras were all high n mighty bout gettin un o us ta marry, n we said no ta him straight out. Yet as soon as Alora ordered us we caved in a heartbeat.”

“Ye ken it be more than that Pepper,” Bailey said. “Did Melanthios confirm what she said bout Eileen bein reborn?”

“Aye, but he said it only be possible we baint ken fer sure,” Pepper said.

“But it fits baint it?” Bailey said. “I mean we both be twins like Mab n Titania. I ken I might be more like Mab, meanin I be the un more likely ta bear Eileen. Ye might nowt have ta go through with this Pepper.”

“Nowt, ye did this unce afore for me Bailey nowt again,” Pepper said. “Sides which we baint ken fer sure it’ll be ye Bailey. Ye already had un set o children n neither be Eileen.”

“Aye,” Bailey said. “I just wanted ta spare ye Pepper, I ken how sensitive ye be.”

“I be stronger now thanks ta Darin,” Pepper said. “I miss him n I ken he won’t blame me fer this. But what bout ye n Ian?”

“I baint be sure,” Bailey said. “I hurts Pepper betrayin him.”

“Ye baint be, n ifn he blames ye he baint be the man I kenned him ta be,” Pepper said.

“That baint be it Pepper,” Bailey said. “It hurts me nowt bein with him. It hurts bein with another man that baint be him.”

Pepper looked away unable to understand. She had never felt that way, even about Darin. She suddenly didn’t understand love at all.

“Then how bout this,” Pepper said. “It only takes un time, right? Well on the weddin night we can get drunk, so drunk I doubt we’ll even remember the night in bed. After that we can go our own ways, many married couples keep apart.”

“I guess,” Bailey said, finding Pepper’s plan had some merits, but some flaws. The main one would be no matter what she was going to have to give birth to another man’s child.

“Come on,” Pepper said, secure now in her plan and trying to seem brave for her sister. “Let’s get some sleep. We wanna look real pretty fer our grooms baint?”

“Aye,” Bailey answered with a sad smile. Both changed into some nightgowns and crawled into the giant bed. The great feather stuffed mattress was much like lying on a cloud, but the twins lay in bed awake for hours contemplating their new fates.

#fantasy #series #writing #please read #fairies #dragons

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thefreshfinds · 6 years ago

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Pretty Pape$:  On the surface Pretty Pape$ is an all around fun, laid-back, confident guy. He even said once in a verse off of Professional Rapper ft Eaux that he’s the type of rapper that can make a flip (& no guys..he wasn’t referring to gymnastics), but the question that still lingers in the air is “Who is he?” To be frank, Pretty Pape$ is an artist that reflects his personality into a wave of ruminating lyrics everytime he spits. He adds his own flair by throwing in a macho tone with playfully mixed metaphors & bluntful, comical rhymes (that sometimes may be percieved as outlandish).  Yet this is the reason most admire him. He isn’t boastful or showoffish about his pride in appearance or skill. In fact Pretty Pape$ is chill about it & doesn’t need the approval of others.  He has a diehard passion & just wants to keep his eyes on the prize.  Considered the person who always rolled the joints or had the papers to do so in his group of friends, Pretty Pape$ referred to himself as Pape$ first for that very reason. Four years ago the rap-ster added Pretty to his stage name because he considered himself very vain since childhood. “My mom told me ever since I was a child I’d pass by a mirror & would always do a double take just to check myself out.” Pretty Pape$ adds “Til’ this day I still do & F.Y.I I’m as handsome as ever so yeah.”  For Pretty Pape$, music is his world. “It’s basically my wife. It’s my therapy, my release, my joy, my pain.” he says “I’m willing to die for my dream to the point that a lot of artists wouldn’t. It’s no shade towards anyone but literally everything I do goes towards moving my music career forward in the right direction.” On Pretty Pape$ five year timeline, he sees himself lined up as a household name in the hip-hop community. “I want to have a cult following & achieve commercial success. I just want to be heard on a larger scale.” Pretty Pape$ says “The goal is to create a fan base that will not only inspire my everyday life but also support me with an intense passion. I would love to be on tour & do international shows in this time as well, especially in Asia. I want my spot in people’s hearts, minds & playlists. I truly believe I have the ability & work ethic to achieve all of the above & more. I refuse to fail.”  In his songs Pretty Pape$ hopes that listeners are advised to do what they want & to just have brash confidence in any situation that they’re put into. “I consider myself a fun guy so I do my best to make fun records to listen to.” Pretty Pape$ says “My name is a symbol of self-love (if you can understand that). It’s like me saying I know I’m a beautiful person inside & out. For that reason I know anything I say on any of my records will reflect my bright personality whether it’s something that you relate with or something witty that only I would say. I started rapping for sport in hotbox cyphers & we all worshipped Lil Wayne so I do resonate with that punch line style a lot. I use a lot of off the wall metaphors but I always try to tie my verses together to the point where one line is related to the next and so on.”  Although he doesn’t see an issue with the music that’s spreading like wildfire, Pretty Pape$ would like to see artist who get into the industry because of their craft not because of their bad ways. “If you really dig there’s great music dropping everyday from every direction. But one thing I would like to see change is artists blowing up for problematic reasons. I know image is a huge part of this game & it has been since mainstream music was first introduced, but sometimes it makes me upset because I know so many talented artists who would murder someone for the same type of exposure.” Pretty Pape$ goes on to say. Basically I wish more artist got attention for their art but I’m not sure if it will change anytime soon.“ Still, Pretty Pape$ believes that their are individuals who share the same intense love he has for music. “For anyone starting up if you don’t love music then don’t even start. It’s a lot of work.” he adds “If you do love it be prepared for a long road of trials and errors. Be as self sufficient as possible, find people to build with that believe in you & just make dope sh*t that only YOU would be able to make. If somebody has already made something you’re working on, scrap it. Be original.”  To conclude, Pretty Pape$ is a hard working artist who is use to the mean mugs & sly comments but that doesn’t stop him from flaunting his good looks or tactless bars. Pretty Pape$ about that bread, he’s on a roll.  By: Natalee Gilbert  Fun Facts:  1. If Pretty Pape$ could work with anyone, it would be his main producer Mixx. “We just have a certain chemistry anytime we’re in the lab or even if he just sends me something. He always knows what I want. Mixx is consistent & everything he makes has this signature bounce that’s fun to write & listen to.  2. Pretty Pape$ first found inspiration from “Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)” by Wu-Tang. “It was the first hip hop album I ever heard & I was just so drawn to the intensity of their voices mixed with the witty wordplay & extensive vocabulary. I wanted to be just like them.“  Growing up he was obsessed with 90s golden era rap. “As I started expanding my library I really fell in love with everything hip-hop. From west coast heavy hitters like 2Pac, Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, Dogg Pound, & Westside Connection etc. to east coast sounds like Big Pun, Nas, Mobb Deep, The Fugees, Notorious B.I.G, Cam'ron etc. & Dirty South artists like Outkast, UGK, 3 6 Mafia, Geto Boyz, Master P, Lil Wayne etc.  But he also loves current hip-hop because he believes it pushes the envelope in a way that’s really expanded the sound & the infinite possibilities of what one can do with a hip-hop record. "Artists like Kendrick Lamar, Drake, Young Thug , Future, Travis Scott, Kodak Black, XXXTentacion, Ski-Mask The Slump God, J. Cole, J.I.D. , Lil Uzi Vert & more are true innovators when it comes to song structure. They have created their own unique sound which is something I can truly appreciate. It’s very inspiring & makes me want to continue to push forward with continuing to develop my own sound; my own voice. I really do believe that being your true self when it comes the music is the key to making something timeless.” Pretty Pape$ says.  Links:  1. Spotify: Pretty Pape$  2. YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2IgRNBArcDc  3. Instagram: @prettypapes  4. Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/pretty-papes

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gmtpluseight · 4 years ago

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Blowing bubbles

SEPTEMBER

Well here we are.

Knee-deep in Standard Operating Procedures, post-summer hols back at school, but at least back at school, rather than confined to a wardrobe (admittedly, a large wardrobe) trying to teach virtually, locked-down, doubled down, terrorised by my own children. The horror, the horror.

Briefly, the Virtual School Experience flickered back to life this week as a local water contamination that affected the entire Klang Valley dragged its heels. The taps in the classrooms sputtered. Talk was we wouldn’t be able to flush the loos. Giant water tankers delivered so much, but not possibly enough.

The last thing you need during a pandemic: a lack of means of washing hands.

Thankfully, it lasted a day before it was resolved.

What a summer it was, though. Not the one we expected, although we can’t be alone in that. Instead of returning home, we made a new home, moving from one enormous condo unit to another. Less than 100m as the crow flies.

Still a job to pack up.

JULY

We trolley boxes across the basement carparks, dodging speed bumps and squealing slow-moving cars.

We buy enormous plants at ridiculously cheap prices to pad out the space a bit.

I spend close to two hours with the owner of our previous condo unit and the housing agents, arguing over imagined damage to the property.

In the end I win. But everyone also loses. It’s a compromise.

I meet one of the agents later that afternoon out front, jumping into a cab. I need a drink she says. I know the feeling.

In between before and after packing up and down, we master short hops to impossibly beautiful destinations.

JULY-AUGUST--ISH

We spend several hundred ringgos in Decathlon in preparation. We visit a dive shop in a mall beside a purpose built Scuba diving-training-swimming pool. Two men, one bare-chested, sit at a table beside, swigging from a bottle of whisky. I guess lockdown affected some businesses more than others.

First up, Perhentian Besar, where friends John and Christine make friends with everyone.

Where the kids take telly breaks inside, sheltered from the lapis blue skies. We use dive mask boxes as crisp buckets.

I take trips to the peer to eyeball the local triggerfish as it nibbles at barnacles.

We take a boat trip to neighbouring Perhentian Kecil and walk past one of our neighbours from KL. A storm creeps over the hill as we sip cocktails and attempt to distract the children from their boredom. We nearly get stranded but our boatman basically decides to roll the dice with our lives and before long we’re bouncing off the waves with hair-shredding winds whipping across and sea spray more like shower spray dousing us. No more boats travel that evening as the waves grow even bigger.

THE THIRD TRIP - PENANG

We check in to a lovely hotel with hands-down the most comfortable bed I have ever slept in. Several other friends and their children from KL are all in the same hotel.

By day we take in local sites along and about the Batu Ferringhi stretch. Penang Butterfly Farm is vast, and predictably, it is filled with butterflies.

It’s also filled with other things.

Spiders, scorpions and a toad, I kid yeeeee not, as big as a melon. Not quite a watermelon, but a very decently sized cantaloupe.

Most of the spiders are behind glass. Amazingly, one enclosure has no glass. Just a big empty space. Couple wispy bits of spiderweb reach right out into the corridor. I practically walk through them as I approach to see what’s inside. Nothing, apparently.

That spider could be anywhere in the entire Butterfly Farm.

I spend the rest of the visit with that thought on my mind.

By late afternoon/evening, we hit the beach bars.

The beach keeps the kids happy.

The bar keeps the adults happy. Everyone’s a winn-

KIT GET OUT OF THE SEA! KIT! KI-

He’s deliberately ignoring me. He’s started doing this loads.

KIT! KIT! KI-IIIIIT!

Now his shorts and t-shirt are soaking. Great. Soon his nappy will be hanging round his knees, soaked with seawater.

One night, we witness a proposal at the beach bar.

The eagle-eyed can tell something is afoot from the moment we arrive- there’s pink balloons, fake flower petals and candles set out in front of the VIP booth bit. No future groom no bride to speak of yet though.

Clearly, balloons are interesting to small children.

It’s a job keeping them away from the flower petals too. Let alone the candles. Eventually they start splashing about in the water instead.

Inside, there’s at least three photographers circling.

There’s a change in music.

Someone Has Arrived.

There’s a general movement towards the balloons and flower petals and candles at which point the children regain an interest in it all. They gambol over in the end-of-the-day, anything could happen, I’m-on-holiday-too and if-you’re-not-going-to-provide-entertainment-I’ll-make-my-own sort of way.

One photographer shoots me a look of sheer, unbridled terror.

I do my best cat-herding, distract and befuddle the children with a mixture of unfulfilled offers, bribes and bird noise imitation. It works.

Moments later the bride-to-be saunters through with a friend.

Then, all the bits you’d expect. Hands on mouth. Gasps. Grins. Searching the faces in the crowd for her suitor.

He’s not there.

A band emerges from around the corner. Actually, no, a group of her friends. One has a boom box and they’re all singing terribly, kicking sand playfully and moving slowly. I don’t recognise the tune. But that could be down to their singing.

A few more moments later, and from behind us a horse jerkily walks towards this scene. On top, a man dressed in an oversize Mickey Mouse costume, who clearly has never ridden a horse in his life.

I’m no Frankie Dettori, but I can tell this guy doesn’t know the front end from the back of a horse.

He struggles to dismount.

He’s got these giant clown-shoes on and he gets them caught in the stirrups, then his head lolls forward as he tries to look down at the snag. Eventually, he makes it onto one knee. Later the kids squabble over balloons and Kit is beyond inconsolable when they are released to the sky. It’s a clear night, which makes it worse. He watches them sail away for ages.

We while away the rest of the night to the sound of the house band. Two guys. A guitar and a drum set made of old tins, teapots and gas cans. It’s a marvel to behold.

THE FOURTH TRIP - PANGKOR LAUT

Now this place. This place really take the biscuit.

The last hurrah of the summer holidays before back to work. A private friggin island. When else can I say I have visited a private island.

There’s hornbills everywhere.There’s infinity pools. There’s a massive tree filled with flying foxes that sweep across the sky at night. There’s a little minibus that takes you to the other side of the island, to a secluded bay and another gorgeous beach. It’s simply idyllic.

There’s also a pack of marauding macaques that sniff out the packet of dried apricots that the ants had already sniffed out. Left outside our room door, they come hungry for it. By that point we’d already gone to the beach. The Mutters, next door, hadn’t though. They ended up barricaded in for a while as the macaques descended.

The clientele at the island is not what we’ve experienced so far. Comes with a place like that I guess. Everyone is visibly less patient, less enamoured with and less pleased by our children. I mean. I don’t really blame them.

THE SPUR OF THE MOMENT TRIP / THE THIRD TRIP

Langkawi. Ah, Langkawi.

West coast beaches are definitely not east coast beaches. But it’s still a giant playground for an under 5. Bliss.

Our hotel has the world’s most incredible swimming pools (yes, pools) with slides and bridges and water spouts and people who give you ginormous towels and a 5 foot monitor lizard, one day, who decided to take a dip.

We watch a parent eagle teaching its young to fly. We watch coconut tree shimmiers machete off coconuts and leaves. We zip off to the other side of the island and Stanley Mutter, aka Crab God, charms the local fauna. Then we go home, unpack, wash everything and start thinking about what to pack for the next trip.

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danmobilized · 7 years ago

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A video series by Callsign: Reach // Simulacrum: Cyberpunk Airsoft Action

WATCH IT HERE

A direct sequel to Simulacrum Ep. 2 featuring the FABARM STF12 airsoft shotgun and the Javelin Super CQB M4

—

The battlefields of the cold corporate future are littered with mercenaries and the armed, faceless legions of a totalitarian culture. But in some places, the echo of the bright, hopeful future that past generations dreamed of still lives on. New Tanegashima was once one of those places. A "Buy-Out City" on the East Coast of the former United States, it encompasses nearly eight hundred miles of land bought out by the Japanese company sixty years ago. For a long time, it represented where the world was going: foreign entities buying out the land of dying governments. Against all odds, New Tanegashima thrived. The city blossomed. The internal economy flourished. Despite the strange multi-national limbo in which the citizens lived, the city survived the rest of the Buy-Out era.

In this world, it's known that good things seldom keep. Progress, it seems, continues without heed to human rights or quality of life. Smog began to fill the skies as the city grew outwards. Disease filled the streets as the population expanded. Megastructures were erected on top of the old city, a cruel attempt to shun the past and the impoverished, creating an elaborate system of slums beneath the streets. New Tanegashima now grows like a virulent keloid, ever expanding, ever growing, and slowly being crushed beneath its own weight.

This is where companies like Krios make their money. The overpopulated, unemployed underground serves for easily exploitable labor for megacorporations like Krios, who fuel their impossibly ambitious construction projects with desperate human lives. Need a job? Krios can help, as long as never-ending work shifts and infinitesimal paychecks are your prerogative. Three thousand workers are under their employment in the underground of New Tanegashima. A drop in the bucket for a company as vast as Krios.

A recent spill of toxic chemicals infiltrated the clean water reservoir near a Krios job site. The local populace, overworked, starved out of their minds and penniless, have taken up arms against the company and are working to force them out of the sector for good. In an attempt to cement their position, Krios has hired SERVAL. mercenaries, members of a well-known private military contractor known for their augmented soldiers, to protect their local assets. A common sight on any battlefield, SERVAL. is brutal, efficient, and committed to the job. With overwhelming force and weaponry, SERVAL. has punished each rebel attack with increasing success. That is, until today.

Corporate, the shadowy unknown and obscenely powerful entity in this dark future, has sent Reach, one of their most trusted tactical contractors, to aid the rebel cause in an underhanded play to punish their manufacturing rival, Krios. Once Krios loses their foothold in the area, Corporate can move their own business subsidiaries in and pick up where Krios left off. Dealing a blow to SERVAL. also seems to be of interest to the dubious company. Reach doesn't really seem to care. It's another day on the job for him. Plus, he has other things to worry about.

Several weeks prior, Reach's task force was killed during an investigation at a training facility. A mysterious hack turned the facility's cyborg staff against one another before hacking the task force directly. One after the other, they turned on each other as their brains succumbed to severe hemorrhaging. Reach, by unknown means, survived the ordeal, found his way out of the facility and escaped into the surrounding wilderness. Picked up and reconditioned by Corporate on the side of a nearby mountain, this first assignment is fraught with anxiety. A hack that can steal a cyborg's body and use their weapons against others is a threat no one could have seen coming. When the world's most advanced free-lance warriors become open source, rampaging platforms of destruction, what comes next?

—

In this installment of the Simulacrum series, we see Reach meet up with rebellion leader Gabriel, blast some mercenaries with a cool-sounding shotgun and seemingly avoid the hack that almost killed him last time. The rebels succeed, but quickly fall victim to a more technologically advanced enemy who turns their augmented soldiers against their organic allies. The simulated battlefield has become a free-for-all that could strike at any time. Who is hacking cyborg soldiers? Why does it seem to follow Reach? Could Gabriel have survived?

And WHEN is someone going to make sexy Shell fanart?

Find out in the next installment of Simulacrum.

—

Weapons Used:

Javelin Super CQB M4

Discontinued, though Elite Force makes a similar gun:

https://www.airsoftgi.com/product/Elite-Force-Competition-M4-CQC-Carbine-AEG-Airsoft-Gun-pick-a-color-33162/?cPath=139_408_411

FABARM STF-12

https://www.evike.com/products/76033/

—

MUSIC:

Stormfront by Kevin Macleod

Available under Creative Commons License 3.0

www.incompetech.com

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triscribe · 7 years ago

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Quill the Living Planet

Summary: Hundreds of years after the rest of Guardians are dead and gone, Peter Quill remains. He decides to give being a planet a try.

Rocket was the first to go, his fur long turned to a mix of white and pale grey. Rather than admit to the growing weakness of his limbs and eyes, the feisty little bugger went out in a blaze of glory, blowing up himself and a ship full of Skrull slaver-scientists. They gave him a Ravager funeral, figuring he’d appreciate explosions made in his honor.

Drax went next. It surprised everyone - they thought he would go down in the same manner as Rocket, fighting to his last. Instead, he slipped away in his sleep one night, found the next morning with a content smile on his face. They burned his body, and scattered the ashes on his deserted homeworld, to rest with his wife and daughter.

Mantis died a decade later, helping to ease the passing of others in a refugee hospital on a planet caught up in civil war. With the others fighting on the battlefield, she had no one to tell her to stop, to take a break. Instead, she absorbed as much pain from the fatally wounded as possible, until she just... Stopped. They buried her on a quiet planet the next star system over, one where flowers tinkled like bells in the wind.

Gamora joined them after many years, injured while guiding escaped slaves to safety on a Kree colony world. Her body’s modifications only helped so much, allowing her to keep pushing on long after she should’ve stopped to rest. By the time she collapsed, there was nothing more that could be done to repair the damage. They gave her a traditional funeral of her people, on Zen-Whoberi’s remaining moon.

Nebula faded within the same year - she simply stopped giving her own mods the meticulous care she had in days past, which meant the effects of old wounds soon caught up with her. They put her to rest next to her sister.

It was several decades before the next death, that of Merdu Udonta Quill, Peter and Gamora’s son. He left behind a Terran wife and seven children: Ditha, Yon, Lini, Hethe, Ket, Tis, and Neba. They, along with his father and walking plant of an uncle, summoned the one hundred Ravager Clans for a Captain’s Funeral.

A few centuries later, it was finally Groot’s turn. He’d grown into a huge form, bigger than the one he’d had when the Guardians all first met - one capable of holding up a whole village’s worth of terrified people as the ground beneath shuddered and spewed molten rock. Evacuation ships were able to get all the civilians out of harm’s way by the time he finally collapsed, grinning at his victory. There was nothing left to give a funeral to, but that didn’t stop the planet’s entire population from throwing an annual garden festival in his honor.

After that, Peter was more alone than he’d felt in ages. His descendants were scattered across the star lanes, some aware of their relation to him, many not. A few galactic governments, those of Xandar and Terra and so on, remembered his name, enough to be polite and welcoming when he showed up within their borders. Most places, though, had forgotten who he was; there were only legends among spacefarers of the ‘Starlord,’ who wandered from system to system, searching for the family who’d left him behind.

Part of him laughed at the irony.

Another part contemplated how to destroy himself, and so rejoin his loved ones, wherever they were.

The greatest part of his mind, however, wondered what it would be like to be a planet.

So, he found a solar system with a young sun, picked an orbit just close enough to it for a decent amount of warmth, and got to work. It took a long time to build a decent-sized shell around himself, and longer to sort out what features he wanted on his surface and where to put them. By the time settlers began to arrive, though (grandchildren of his grandchildren’s grandchildren, called by the songs sent out to every corner of the galaxy), Peter was ready. Planet Quill was ready.

There were two large bodies of saltwater: the Draxian Ocean (situated right on the equator, so the currents were always warm) and the Nebula Sea (further to the north, where it seasonally froze over, but was always lit from within by glowing kelp). Across the continents were numerous freshwater lakes and rivers, each named for either one of Peter’s grandkids or a Ravager who’d been decent to him growing up on the Eclector. They all flowed together into the massive Merdu River, which continued on down to the shore of the Draxian. In the very center of the ocean was the Island of Mantis, where the ground was soft enough for bare feet, every tree bore sweet fruit, and the pink flowers all tinkled like bells in the wind.

There was also the Forest of Groot, full of trees with friendly faces, which produced glowing spores every night and little white flowers every spring. Just south of it was the Rocket Desert: by day, an unfriendly mass of dusty scrubland and deep ravines, full of downright hostile cacti covered in sharp, black and brown bristles. At night, however, all manner of small, curious creatures came out of their dens, water welled up from depressions in the ground, and electric sparks danced along the edges of dangerous drop-offs as a warning. Even the bristles of the cacti drooped, becoming soft to touch and revealing tiny, bright orange flowers, which produced bitter seed pods that could be brewed into an invigorating drink.

In the east there was a great wide plain, the Gamoran Grassland, covered in pale green grass with silver veins running through the stalks. Here and there grew flowers of red and pink petals, which parted when picked to produce some lyric of a lively song. To the north were the Yondu Mountains, made of a vibrant blue stone and capped by groves of a tall, bright red reed plant that whistled even when the wind didn’t blow.

Nestled in the very center of the mountain range was the City of Meredithen, the planet’s capital, a place that practically glowed from how much hope and happiness lived there. Further away was the settlement of Kraglintown, where members of the Ravager Clans and the sorts of folk who catered to them were always welcome - provided they didn’t break anything or anyone, of course.

The skies were filled with birds of orange and blue feathers, called Milanos, that soared endlessly through the clouds and were thought to bring good luck to any ship they decided to dance around.

Underground was an expansive network of crystal-lit tunnels, large enough for multiple lanes of traffic and connecting every settlement and city sector, with more than a few hotels, pit stops, and mushroom farms along the way.

Planet Quill became haven and home to many, who developed a culture blended from their own pasts as well as what their protector, Peter Starlord, shared with them from his own. Song was a favored form of subtle (and not-so-subtle) communication, between lovers, rivals, neighbors and so on. The Walkmen, a group made up of people of all genders, were honored performers and storytellers, who came in two kinds: the generalists, who could work in any situation, and the specialists, who would attend events of their field, such as birthday parties, coming-of-age celebrations, weddings, festivals, or funerals. They were as close to a Priesthood of Quill that the Starlord would allow.

Though he avoided becoming mixed up with his people’s political climate too often, there was one law that Peter insisted upon: that all citizens of the planet from age eight and up learn at least one form of combat, be it hand-to-hand, with a specific form of weaponry, or from within an armed craft. As such, the first and only time an invading force entered the airspace above Meredeen, they were summarily handed their asses and kicked back into space. Every other government in the galaxy took note, and the Quillian homeworld was not bothered again.

Had he kept his consciousness in the planet’s core more often than not, there was every possibility Peter would have become a true god to his people, revered and honored by those who lived upon his surface. Instead, he made sure to constantly walk among them in his human form, wearing heavy boots, work pants, a grimy t-shirt, and old red leather trench coat; cracking jokes, sharing stories and songs, and making sure to regularly visit Kraglintown to hang out with visiting Ravagers. Everyone he spent time with, he insisted either address him as Peter or Grandpa, depending on whether or not he could sense they were a Starling, a descendant of his. More than once, he’d been mistaken for a particularly over-the-top Walkman - when corrected, those people usually tried to make up for their error by praising him, often citing their admiration of his heroics with the other Guardians eons earlier. Peter had a standard response to that: “Nah, we weren’t heroic - we were losers who just happened to be in the right place at the right time, with enough collective decency in us to do the right thing. Which, really, is all anyone can hope to do.”

It was well-known throughout the civilized universe that one did not mess with travelling Quillians, because they were even crazier than the average Terran: pulling insane stunts to save the lives of complete strangers, and taking down jackasses who threatened honest folk, from street bullies to intergalactic terrorists. They were a world of lunatics, and proud of it.

Eventually, long after Planet Quill was first formed, when the sun it orbited was no longer young, Peter met one of his many-times-great-grandchildren who possessed the powers of a Celestial. Her skin was dark green; her hair was a blend of shimmering blues; her eyes were solid purple all the way through.

Her name was Yondi, of the Neb-Quill line.

It wasn’t long before people began to call her the Starchild.

In her youth, she spent a lot of time learning from Peter. As an adult, she roamed the universe, battled some monsters, stopped an apocalypse or three, even served as a crewmember with about half of the Ravager Clans. When she felt ready to finally settle down, Yondi returned to her Grandpa’s planet. She went down to the very center, where his core consciousness rested, and carefully, cautiously... Took Over.

Planet Quill, overall, suffered a few minor earthquakes, a temporary slowing of its orbit. Afterward, though, the people continued to have a Celestial wander amongst them, the Starchild smiling and singing and keeping watch over her own descendants.

As for Peter, well, he finally got to move on: to endure shoulder-smacks from Kraglin and his original Ravager friends. Lean against Groot’s bark; rub Rocket’s fur. Press foreheads with Mantis; offer Nebula a simple nod. Get his ribs bruised by a hug from Drax; have the pain disappear after kissing Gamora. Exchange hugs and grins with his son, daughter-in-law, and seven grandkids.

Embrace his mom.

And of course, smack Yondu, call him a jerk, and then wrap his arms around the blue doofus as tightly as possible.

After that, he sat down and told them all about the cool shit he’d made back on Planet Quill.

#guardians of the galaxy #gotg2 #fan fiction #Peter Quill #Celestial #Quill the Living Planet #a what-if #mentions of death at first #but there's a happy ending I promise #or at least a peaceful one

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wherespaulo · 5 years ago

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Hiking the Francigena Way from Siena to Rome

March 3-12, 2019

“You will find where Odysseus wandered when you find the cobbler who stitched the bag of the winds”

Homer

I'd again been hankering for some sort of expedition to get me away from New York City's urban sprawl. Something that might fit into the St Johns University Spring break where I teach organic chemistry and which would hopefully provide some badly needed sunshine. So in early March, 2019, when I hoped the Tuscan hills would be warming up nicely, I planned to hike the last 180 miles of the Via Francigena from Siena to Rome over ten days – this is an old pilgrims route which officially starts in Canterbury and includes walking-on-water over the English Channel. I would, of course, travel alone, and Camino Ways would ferry my luggage from one small hotel/B&B to the next, so I only had my day pack to carry. I've done the 'carrying everything' and 'pitching a tent in the pouring rain and dark' already – now I could afford to just do a physically challenging hike where I could travel light and have wine, pasta and a warm bed at the end of it. To find my way I would use a combination of way markers and maps (old school and electronic) but did secretly look forward to an occasional wrong turn...

I didn't expect to find God since I've never been of the religious persuasion, probably for a number of reasons. Growing up in an English working-class coal mining area the only religions were hard graft and soccer, accompanied by copious quantities of beer and tobacco. Moral codes, such as treating everyone how you would like to be treated and respecting your elders, were deeply ingrained into your psyche through strong role models. And although religious education was compulsory in my comprehensive school, the books illustrating God as a big beardy bloke in a white robe, lounging on a cloud while overseeing his parishioners, and usually with some extra creative graffiti added by a bored student, never really did it for me. And then later in life, after I trained as a scientist, I always struggled with the idea of believing in an omnipotent supernatural being that I couldn't see. Don't get me wrong. I would never be so narrow minded to assume in this vast universe that just because I can’t see something or explain it by science it doesn’t exist. And I've always respected people's belief or not in any kind of God and understand that for many people the community of the church is just as important as the belief. Also, growing up amongst a family of builders, I have an appreciation for beautiful architecture which has been inspired by bygone believers – and this is usually some of the best, so I was looking forward to admiring some of it.

When I'm hiking by myself my mind tends to wander way more than the geographical journey -- I believe my traveling is just a reflection of my mental wanderings. As I strode out easily over the gently rolling Tuscan hills into dazzling Spring sunshine under azure blue skies, through the neat rows of olive and hazelnut groves and vineyards, I considered the inanimate clouds of dust rising from beneath my feet and struggled with a conundrum. How is it that the very same atoms could simply be rearranged to provide a living, breathing, reproducing organism with a life force? Where does this life force come from? Is there something else at work here.

These were all thoughts running through my mind as I started a short climb to the beautiful historic hill fort of Vignoni with its narrow medieval alleyways set within castle walls.

I surveyed the rolling Tuscan landscape from my elevated position. Medieval hilltop villages like Bagno Vignoni and Radicofani rose from the distant valley like gigantic way markers for the wayward pilgrim, while the neat rows of Italian cypress and umbrella pines lining every vineyard track seemed to be tempting me with diversions.

Having already considered the very nature of life my mind now wandered further to contemplate life’s journey and its many meanderings. At some point in life most of us become lost. Don't we? And as with Odysseus we strive to find a new way home. Wherever or whatever that may be. Life seems to follow a simple route for some. For others we have an occasional unforeseen diversion. Maybe a mid-life crisis where we suddenly realize we're not where we expected to be, no longer recognizing our immediate surroundings. I think that's what happened to my ex-wife – she became lost and didn’t recognize me anymore. Yet others seem forever lost. Some people don't seem to mind being lost. Others do. Some don’t even know they’re lost.

It was shortly after leaving the most beautiful medieval lakeside town of Bolsena that I became lost – did I miss the sign? I wandered back about half a mile to the last way marker I'd seen and wandered back and forth for quite a while, but alas...

Until 2005 my own life seemed to have been following a well-trod path -- good job with wife and two kids in the English burbs. Then there was an unexpected detour after missing the signs – a divorce had altered my expected route and directed me across the ocean to New York City. Although, as with Odysseus, the four winds had now been loosed, an interesting job and good social life had tethered me like a kite for nine years. But that tether was severed in late 2015 when my job was eliminated, and I saw this as an opportunity to blow to the four corners of the earth. But, as with Odysseus, I recently seem to have become lost and home seems to be just an idea.

My favorite much-used advice to my young sons when they thought they'd lost something was “seek and ye shall find”. Of course, they'd always assumed that it was lost as soon as it was out of their sight – they hadn't yet learned that you have to realize you’ve lost something, or realize you’re lost, before you can find something or find your way. And they always did find it after listening to my advice. Always. They are both well along their own journeys now – good jobs in computer science and living with their girlfriends in London and Lyon. And just like they’d done many times while growing up, I did eventually find that way marker post after I’d searched for it -- it had been knocked over and hidden in the grass.

I entered a dense woodland where Spring was already in the air. Colorful European jays, the creepy cackle of the green woodpecker and the sharp floral smell and beautiful white blossom of the hawthorn bush all caught my attention and brought me into the moment. I considered how my mind is temporarily anchored in times like these, when it's not timebound and craving for something from the past or future. Is that why people who consistently live for the day don't tend to feel lost? Erkhardt Tolle writes about this while Siddhartha was the ultimate practitioner.

I walked the last few miles into Rome with a fellow 'pilgrim'. Beatrice was a tall, windblown and sunburned 40 something from the Spanish Basque region and we’d met after she’d appeared from behind a derelict barn while pulling her pants up. She wore a red beret tilted at an angle and smoked like a chimney while carrying a very large full pack, of I'd guess 35 pounds or more. She informed me in broken English, while prodding my chest intensely, that she'd left Madrid at the beginning of November and had walked to Rome via Santiago de Compostela, through the Winter. I felt humbled. After further questioning it seemed she'd been walking almost non-stop for a few years now – with that full pack and while sleeping in a tent. It's a pity I didn't have more time to hear her story as she seemed to have a purpose about her. Maybe she was also on an Odysseun journey to find her way home.

Our first sight of Rome was from the elevated Monte Mario Park – I could make out all the main sights that I’d visited back in 2010 on my way to a business meeting in Ascoli, just east of Rome. The colosseum, the Pantheon, the Alter of the Fatherland. And I considered my lifetime diversions since then - leaving the corporate world to travel, write and teach. But I hadn’t had time to visit the Vatican then and since that was the official end of the Via Francigena pilgrims’ route, this was going to be first on my list.

As I entered St Peters Basilica all my previous experiences of admiring ecclesiastical architecture – the enormous cathedrals of Chartres, Notre Dame, Canterbury, Seville, Gaudi’s La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem – quickly paled into insignificance. St Peters was so much grander and opulent than anything I'd seen before and set a whole new bar. Building had started around 1500 under the power-hungry Pope Julius – it hadn’t surprised me that after demolishing the original 1500-year-old St Peters Basilica it had taken another 120 years to complete this one. And it was just the same as the Louvre’s art paled into insignificance against the enormous Michelangelo and Raphael frescos of the Sistine Chapel.

As I considered the enormity of it all I thought about the many pilgrims over the years who’d viewed Rome with the very same awe after their tiring journey from Canterbury -- and how they too, like Odysseus, had to get lost before they could find their way home.

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vacationsoup · 5 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://vacationsoup.com/weather-zion-bryce-or-north-rim-grand-canyon/

Weather and The Five Seasons of Southern Utah

What is the weather like?

The very first question that generally comes to our minds when planning our next vacation is - Weather!

“ What is the weather going to be like at Zion, Bryce or North Rim Grand Canyon?”

When visiting the national parks of Southern Utah it may be an even more important question to ask. Unlike the rest of the state, that has four seasons, Southern Utah has five. Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, and Monsoons!

Our little town of Kanab Utah sits in the middle of a Grand Circle. -Bryce Canyon National Park to the North -Zion Canyon National Park to the West -Lake Powell/GlenCanyon National Recreation Area to the East -North Rim Grand Canyon National Park to our South.

We get ALOT of Park visitors. Most are only there for a few days, so our diverse weather can be hard to plan for, and have a big impact on their experience. But every season has its positives. So just be aware, and have a great time no matter what time of year!

SPRING and FALL

Spring and Fall are ideal times to visit Southern Utah and the national parks. Oftentimes, as early as March the weather turns lovely. May is a peak season for us in Kanab. There will be Spring rains, but I always tell my guests to be sure and go in the rain! They will see waterfalls around the canyon that are never there any other time. Beautiful!

September starts cooling down nicely and we have enjoyed beautiful days well into November and often including Thanksgiving. Crowds are thinning out and Autumn colors show in October.

In a nutshell April - May and Sept.- Nov. are just pretty darn fine!

SUMMER

Summer is hot. Beautiful but hot. Makes for great water sports time at Lake Powell and on our own small Jackson Flat Reservoir.

Photo credit of Jackson Flat reservoir and kayak rentals from http://alltournativeadventure.com/

Hiking is OK, just stick to the early morning hours or later in the evening.

The biggest secret to remember here is water! Drink a lot more water than you probably normally would. One gallon a day is recommended - and salty snacks! You need to replace the salt that you perspire out, keeping the sodium balance up in your blood. Take water everywhere with you. This is a very dry climate that will suck your body of moisture without you even knowing it. July is generally the hottest month.

Desert dwellers know there's a very good reason for mid-day siestas, avoiding blasting sunlight and hot temperatures.

National Park visitors don't always understand the need to avoid the heat of the day, which is why dehydration, heat exhaustion, heatstroke and hyponatremia (low sodium blood level) can put a damper on activities, or even send visitors to the hospital.

Perspiration is how your body regulates temperature, so if you don't have enough water, your body will overheat. Minor dehydration triggers thirst, but as dehydration becomes more serious, the body starts to lose its ability to regulate temperature. Symptoms of heatstroke include disorientation, combativeness, and hot skin. The remedy is to find some cool shade, rest and re-hydrate.

Winter

Zion and Bryce Canyons are both open year-round but North Rim Grand Canyon amenities are only open until October 31. November 1 through December 1 the North Rim will be open for day use only (no overnight parking) unless snow closes Highway 67 prior to that date. Once the snow closes the road, North Rim does not open again until the middle of May.

Zion during winter (November- February) months the park is slow but it is still open and draws visitors. Rain and snow are common so bring plenty of layers and something windproof and waterproof. If you have been to Zion in the summer you know wait times on popular hikes can be long, Not in the winter! It may be chilly, but much more peaceful.

The Park shuttle will generally run thru November. December is the coldest month of the year.

I love Bryce in the winter!

White snow on the red rock formations and blue skies. It is a wonderful kind of beautiful!

Long winter nights show off Bryce's beautiful dark skies to perfection. Winter Astronomy is growing in Utahs SouthWest. Kanab has recently made lighting changes that have made the city eligible for International Dark Sky Community status!

Cross country Skiing - Snowshoeing- Ice skating and Hiking can all happen on the same trip.

Don't have your own snowshoes? No worries, The Bryce Canyon Snowshoe Program is designed for all levels of experience, from beginner to expert. These Ranger-guided outings introduce visitors to the wonder of Bryce Canyon in the winter. Check out their Full Moon Snowshoe Hikes and other winter activities here: https://www.nps.gov/brca/planyourvisit/winter.htm

You can also rent all your equipment from Ruby's Inn right at the entrance to the Park https://www.rubysinn.com/

My girlfriends and I have a long-standing tradition of spending several days at Bryce every winter.

Check out my Post on Cross country skiing Bryce here: https://mystarvr.com/cross-country-skiing-at-bryce-canyon-national-park-utah/

Kanab does get snow at times but seldom lasts the day. It gets about 14.8 inches of precipitation thru the year, mostly rain.

MONSOONS

The most interesting season is monsoons. Late July thru August and the first part of Sept. the climate changes dramatically from the dry arid climate of May and June to one of humidity and seasonal rains. This is what we call The Monsoon Season.

This weather change is important to consider when planning a visit to the Southwest.

During these hottest months of the year, the desert bakes under intense solar radiation. Hot air rises as fast as 50 feet per second, creating an area of low pressure that draws warm, humid air from the Gulf of California and the Gulf of Mexico.

As the hot, humid air rises it comes into contact with cooler, high-altitude air. This forms enormous heavy clouds that grow dark and ominous as they rise thousands of feet. Eventually, the clouds burst, producing torrential afternoon thunderstorms.

This is our rule of Thumb - If the weather report predicts 20% chance of rain - It is really 100% chance of rain, just a 20% chance that you will be standing under it!!

Monsoons are vital to the environment in the Southwest. They keep wildfires in check and provide an important water supply to the people and animals who live in the deserts. Visiting the desert during the Monsoon season is a great way to see another lesser-known side to the Southwest. It is the perfect time to adventure and explore with somewhat cooler temperatures and abundant flora and fauna that come to life.

The most common hazards of monsoon storms are lightning strikes and flash floods. Head inside during a lightning storm. Remember: When thunder roars, go indoors. If no substantial shelter is nearby, get in your car and wait out the storm.

Don’t forget the 30-30 rule. After you see lightning, start counting to 30. If you hear thunder before you reach 30, go indoors. Suspend activities for at least 30 minutes after the last clap of thunder.

Storms are most common in the afternoon but they can happen at any time. And they often blow over in an hour or so leaving the ground and the air refreshed, but hopefully not flooded!

Hiking in Grand Canyon, Zion or the many other Utah or Arizona hiking trails near us requires greater caution in monsoon season, but with proper preparation, monsoon weather is nothing to be scared of.

Floods

The intensity of the monsoon season varies from year to year. In the last couple of years, we have had several “Two hundred year storms”. Meaning - A storm like this only happens once every Two hundred years. I think we have had three of those in the last two years.....!

Flash Floods are for real, but are amazing to see! Just do it from somewhere safe! Just remember - Never, ever be in slot canyons when there is rain in the forecast anywhere in the area.

You can stay out of trouble by never crossing moving water either on foot or in your vehicle (like in this photo!) and always check the weather forecast before hiking into any canyon. It’s important to also check the weather in areas “upstream” or up the canyon from where you will be hiking. It is possible to have blue skies overhead but a canyon may still flood due to heavy rains upstream.

I love this blog post from “Wild Girl Writing” about Monsoon Season

She lists 5 Tips for Surviving Monsoon Season in Southern Utah

1) Be weather aware.

2) Know where you’re going.

3) Be cautious about where you take shelter.

4) Hire a local guide.

5) Enjoy the show from somewhere safe.

Please check out the entire Blog. Really good advice. I really like #4, as a local guide WILL keep you safe and WILL make sure you see some amazing backcountry no matter the weather.

photo credit: Kanab Tour Company https://kanabtourcompany.com/

Know before you go! - Weather and trail Conditions for Zion, Bryce or North Rim Grand Canyon

Bryce Canyon National Park Weather updates - https://www.nps.gov/brca/planyourvisit/weather.htm

Zion Canyon National Park Weather updates - https://www.nps.gov/zion/planyourvisit/weather-and-climate.htm

Grand Canyon National Park Weather updates (look specifically for North Rim) - https://www.nps.gov/grca/planyourvisit/weather-dangers.htm