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virto-the-weirdo · 16 days ago

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ANIMALS OF THE LAND OF KINGS - concept #1 ♤

Call it an AU because it's not a confirmed theory, I'm here to bring you a worldbuilding concept for the Land of kings universe. I feel like it has whay more storytelling potential than it initially seems.

SO, let's talk about animals in the card world!

... there aren't any.

Except for that one brown turtle that somehow got it's way into Zontopia.

Anyways, this fact doesn't sit right with me. Like, shure, the argument for why there aren't any animals is probably:

"Oh, it's because the clones didn't need them for their societies to function, so they didn't create them."

But imagine how much richer the world would be with them!

Now, maybe we are wrong and some clones made animals, which we just haven't seen because we haven't even seen much of their countries yet. My guess is that Kuromaku, Dante and Spade made some. (Taking into account that Gabriel already made at least one turtle, I don't have to guess because we know he did do that.)

And I'll start the theory by suggesting an example of what kind of an animal would Spade create for his country.

BEHOLD!

Spade's warhog!

Why would Spade create such creatures? What purpose would they serve him? Why would it be worth wasting generator energy on them?

I'm glad you didn't ask! I'll explain and give arguments for it anyways!

Arguments:

1. Meat

So far, in the land of kings, we only saw people eating plant-based food (mostly in Felicia and Zontopia). Now, this might as well be the only type of food people eat here because there aren't any animals that would provide meat.

Meaning people in the land of kings are vegan.

Seeing as how Spade's favourite stuff to eat is meat, I have a feeling the prideful King Emperor would rather starve than be forced to be a vegan for the rest of his life.

And we do still want to be reasonable and somewhat teenager friendly in the comics, so I don't think cannibalism is an option. Besides, Spade probably has too much pride to resort to such undignified and inhumane practices.

So, how do we solve this problem? Easy! Create a big animal that you can farm and exploit for meat. For a traditional example, a big boar!

And why stop at meat? Perhaps make few breeds of this animal that give milk, and boom - we got milk based products as well!

Now Spade's country is the least vegan place in the card world, and can finally make a proper sandwich with ham and cheese!

2. Various uses for various breeds

If I remember correctly, in comic it was established that citizens live shorter, or at least age quicker, than the clones.

Now, irl animals usually have shorter lifespans than humans, meaning that in the Land of kings, their lives are even shorter, meaning that the process of making new breeds is much faster than irl.

Making breeds is useful because it diversifies the uses of the animal without needing to waste generator energy on a new one.

Here are sketches of some breeds that I think citizens of Spade's country could make, as well as few notes about their characteristics for each:

I'll tackle some uses more in depth in the following arguments.

3. Materials

The animal and plant based materials are a really useful resource. Not only can it be reused to produce more of itself (example, dead plant and animal matter enriches the soil so more plants can grow to feed the people and animals), but once the species is created with the generator energy, Spade doesn't need to use any more generator energy to create more of them.

Depending on the breed, the warhogs not only give meat, but also leather, wool, bones etc.

Animal materials can be used to make good quality clothes, as well as many household items, like leather covered furniture and wool blankets.

Also, I feel like Spade would find a use for bones in clothes accesories as well because I feel like he'd love to look even more edgy and intimidating lol.

4. Trade

An interesting possibility we haven't seen much in the Land of kings.

Why don't clones trade resources with eachother? Do they think they do not need each other's stuff?

Lack of this activity might make sence if we consider that all raw materials are produced by the generator energy, so they all have basic resources and there is no need to aquire them from others (water, stone, iron, etc.).

What they can trade are products specific to their country, but that also depends on how interested the people of other countries are in those.

However, something a lot of people might be interested in trying that comes from other countries is cuisine aka. food (probably misspelled cuisine but whatever).

Think about it, at one point Felicians might get curious what else is there to eat besides raddish-based products.

Same goes for other countries.

(A possible interaction between a Spade spy and a tratiorous Felician.)

And seeing as how, hypothetically, no other country produces meat-based products, Spade has got himself a humble monopoly in the card world.

5. Sign of power and taming practices

Now, this is a bit more related to the abstract implications of creating this animal, as well as it's nature.

Taking care of an animal is not an easy task. Doing that implies that not only do you have enough resources and power to take care of yourself, but also for a whole other creature! Apply that on a larger scale that is Spade's country and you get the impression that his country is, indeed, incredibly capable and powerful to sustain both a population of people and animals.

However, there is a difference between taking care for a goldfish and a dog.

I imagine, to show off how powerful his country is, Spade would deliberatley make his boars dangerous. He'd give them an inherintly wild nature, big horns and tusks, and make them giant in size.

Why? So he can look like an even more badass ruler!

Anybody can take care of a population of animals, but only Spade's country can counquer these wild beasts and subjugate them to their will!

I imagine Spade's taming practices would be incredibly cruel. In order to get the boars to do his bidding, he'd firsth break their will to fight him, and then manipulate them with fear. Redirecting the animal's agresion could also be a metod he'd encourage.

If the boar doesn't give up easily and continues to be disobedient, it would either end up in an arena (more on that later) or as somebody's lunch.

6. Intimidation and war strategy

Spade's empire seems to be among the more technologically advanced countries of the card world, judging by the glimpse of his country in the Tome of clubs where we see all the construction machinery.

So why WARhogs?

Well, once Spade creates the boars and starts trading meat, a word would probably get around the card world about the scary beasts that boars are and create the already mentioned and calculated image of a powerful country that tamed those creatures.

This can also invoke a subtle fear among other subjects, a glance of what kind of terrifying force other countries might expect shall they ever go at odds with Spade's Empire. For if they can tame the boars, shurley they can use them against other countries.

But would he ever really use them against other countries in warfare, while he has powerful machinery at disposal?

I think he would, but it depends on who he is fighting!

You see, not all countries in the Land of kings are as equally as advanced as Kuromaku and Spade's are.

For example, Zontopia doesn't seem to use much technology ever since the original communication system "broke".

So if Spade goes to war against Brolly's country, not only is Brolly severly outmatched, but Spade wastes so much fuel and resources to get his tanks and machines to achieve the same goal he could reach if he simply sent in an army of Warhog-riders with superior weapons just strapped onto the warhogs.

7. Entertainment and punishment

Allright, let's say Spade has a few disobedient warhogs at disposal that are whay too violent and impressive to be turned into steak.

Like, Spade can see these boars have so much potential but do not listen to him. Shurley there must be a way not to waste it?

Well, boars aren't the only thing that is occasionally disobedient in his country. So are his people!

Traitors, criminals, revolutionarys, scoundrels that refuse to follow the strict order and law in the empire... Death sencence awaits some of them, and knowing Spade, he'd probably make public executions a thing to set an example to others of what happends when you go against the Empire.

Adding into the equasion that his country seems to draw some inspiration from the ancient Rome, it makes sence that he'd take after their entertainment practices...

That's right, Spade would build arenas, very similar to roman ones - but purple, where he'd force his criminals to fight for their lives against the wildest and most dangerous warhogs in his country!

(Imagine the following example, but high-tech and better shade of purple:)

It's a fight to the death kind of execution where the criminal has a slim chance to live if they manage to kill the beast before it ends them.

If the criminal somehow manages to slay all the boars they are pit against, they can become a gladiator whose life is now chained to the arena, where they will fight against other animals and criminals for the entertainment of other subjects untill they are eventually slain in one of the battles.

This not only solves the problem of rouge people and animals, but also creates a spectacle out of public executions, reinforcing the fear of regime in other citizens as well as providing entertainment for them.

Arena fights in Spade's country would probably be regarded as a type of theatre, similarly to how they were in ancient Rome.

This concludes the list of reasons why I believe Spade would create animals for his country.

Also, as if all of this wasn't enough, here is a Land of kings OC sketch based on these concepts:

(Also, some of her expression sketches:)

Her name is general Atalanta, and she supervises any and all activities relating to boars/animals within Spade's Empire, which includes running the gladiator arena. She is a great fighter and and hunter, and is experienced when it comes to animal control. She has an electric whip as her weapon which she uses when the warhogs act out of line.

So yea, thank you for coming to my Land of kings concept talk.

I do have more ideas for more possible Land of kings animal concepts but don't expect me to write a post about it because this already took a few days to write and draw and idk if I'll feel like doing that again. In short, I make no promises.

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spicybeefnoodles · 8 months ago

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headcanons

yes, this was inspired by @charlotte-family-apologist little edenian elf ears in their drawings, fight me

i don’t really like how people from outworld and people from earthrealm look exactly the same in terms of morphology

they’re from a completely different world with a similar but still different and much more dangerous ecosystem (have you seen the animals in mkx and mk11?)

i can’t imagine that edenians, seidans, zaterrans, etc. have the exact same culture of morphology as humans, and i wanted to throw my hat in the ring about what differences they could possibly have

starting off with the edenians

first thing that’s different is that they have pointed ears, similar to an elves but a little bit more rounded at the tip, and they move their ears

i.e. they can pin them back, perk them up, etc. sort of like a cat’s, and this is so they can hear incoming predators and prey better when they still hunted that way

their pupils and iris take up much more of the eye so that only a bit of sclera shows, so that they can take in light much better

their noses are also more animal-like, and they have a much better sense of smell than humans to hunt down wounded animals

i think their teeth are also a lot more sharp for chewing through the tough meat/hide of the animals of outworld

i also really like the idea that they have claws in addition to pointed nails rather than just regular human hands, inspired by those claw things mileena and jade wear in mk11

and just because i can, they also have tails with small tufts of fur on the end to help them balance while they’re running and/or climbing trees

i think they’d also be much more muscular than humans, like their upper-body strength is insane, and their legs are strong enough to crush the trunk of an earth tree

so no, they wouldn’t be skinny but rather buff and muscular with more stomach and thickness appreciated within the culture

in mk1, we can see that they don’t have technology (they have sorcery, but it’s doesn’t seem quite the same), and they have what looks like their technological advances are from an agricultural society

so, from that, i think that thicker bodies would be much more appreciated as it would indicate a well-fed/capable edenian capable of attaining food

additionally, different types of fabrics (like earth) are appreciated in different ways, like the hide from a dangerous predator is much more expensive and are almost declarations of love compared to the wool of a sheep-like creature that is mostly domesticated

i think that they’re more of a ‘it takes a village to raise a kid’ sort of mindset when it comes to taking care of children and so are much more willing to take care of multiple children even if it’s not theirs

respect within the culture seems to extend from achievement-based but also filial piety (very pushed in asian countries) as seen with shao kahn and reiko’s achievements in war and mileena and kitana’s deference to their mother

but respect is still very much given to everyone within the culture because everyone plays an important role, whether it’s tending to the farm animals, guarding, sowing clothes, etc.

for seidans, i think they’d look pretty similar to edenians except much more regal-looking and have towering figures, like borzois

they take great care in their appearance and pale complexions are put in high regard (white hair, pale eyes, pale skin, etc.)

their teeth aren’t quite as pointy as edenians but still much sharper than humans, and their ears sort of droop down to give them a much softer look despite their harsh demeanor

still have the claw hands and the tail except the tails have much more fur (think unicorn tails from those old medieval paintings)

but, for someone who’s stockier, has tanner skin, dark hair (like havik), they’re discriminated against and are made into slaves

since they’re born into slavery under careful eyes, their ears are cropped to indicate their slave status, and their tails are docked, making it harder for them to balance

they’re also declawed (which btw you shouldn’t do that to a cat because it’s inhumane), and so have a hard time surviving and running away from the seidans

their changed appearance also indicates their status, and so they’re usually found easily or returned

for zaterrans, (basing this off wiki-level info about komodo dragons) they have the clawed hands same as any others

their tails though are just lizard tails and their fangs are much longer and have a serrated edge to tear into their prey

i think their ears are also shorter naturally compared to edenians or seidans, and they have a hard time hearing things that a human would have no trouble hearing

this stems from the fact they can smell a lot more on their tongue than any human, edenian, or seidans, and even in human form, their forms are large and broad and intimidating

they also have black-green scales littering their body, particularly their joints and their back

regarding culture, i think they wouldn’t have as strong as a focus on offspring and as soon as a zaterran can hunt for themselves, they’re considered an adult

they also can spit venom, both forms, because why not, and as seen within Syzoth’s moveset, it melts people like an acid

i like their lizard forms, they can keep those unchanged

now for those of draconian blood, (shao kahn) i think that general shao is actually an anomaly within draconians (i’m basing this off snakes because snakes in chinese mythology are closely related to dragons)

first, their features are closer to the zaterrans: clawed hands, shorter ears, lizard-like tails, less sclera

but they have the horns in addition to everything else and have much longer canines than humans

usually though, females are much bigger than their male counterparts and have control over much of their society

general shao comes from a special case of already being the heir to a general and training to have that muscle mass within the edenian court

those of draconian blood have hard scales covering their entire body, but they can vary in texture and in colors (because snake scales can vary and it’s cool)

they don’t have hair, they’re all bald and have scales in place of hair (baldies for the win lmao)

tarkatans can stay the same (just add on the fact of the clawed hands, pointed ears, less sclera, tails, etc.)

the only thing i would change is that they don’t grow swords from their hands because that would require them to grow metal from their bones which is…nuclear fusion

anyway, bone swords, like wolverine

for shokans, just slap on the general traits (pointed ears, tails, etc.) because i think they’re already different enough (goro and his four arms plus humongous physique)

for osh-tekks, i know that in mkx and mk11, it’s just painted skin, but fuck that, he has blue skin with stripes that glow

i’m also going to make osh-tekks semi-aquatic, so they have webbed hands and feet in addition to the other general added traits

their tail has no fur (because drag) but instead have a wide-fanned tail to help them swim in the water (similar to an alligator’s tail but smooth and blue)

they don’t have gills, but they have great lung capacity (like a whale or something)

for centaurians, i don’t they would have the clawed hands because they have the powerful hind legs, but everything else applies (and they already have a tail so perfect)

this is all i could think of, and i have no idea if any of this makes sense?

but also, i have limited knowledge regarding the different societies of outworld outside of mk9-mk11 and mk1 (2023) (so like hotaru means nothing to me unfortunately)

i still like their designs in the games, but i just wish they were a bit more alien (give me the animal traits, GIVE ME THE ANIMAL TRAITS, I NEED THEM, I AJAKJHDAHKJAHKFJ)

we’ve seen in mkx and mk11 that they have huge animals of terrifying size and proportion, but edenians and everyone else still just look like weak, fragile humans?

like what, no freaking way

i know they have magic, but that seems like a practiced skill that grows with age

and before they advanced in society, growing to old age probably wasn’t all that common and so harnessing magic wasn’t all too common either until the current eras we see in gameplay

not to mention, shang tsung and quan chi need the help of shang tsung from a different timeline that has lived for centuries to catalyze their magical skills, and without titan shang tsung, they probably wouldn’t have attained the skill of magic they have until centuries later

some pictures for how i imagine it to be (you're gonna have to excuse my piss poor drawing skills and anatomy)

anyway, yeah, peace out

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 2023 #mk #mortal kombat headcanons #mortal kombat worldbuilding

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acti-veg · 1 year ago

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So I'm trying to get a better understanding of what Veganism is all about, from an ethical standpoint. So, my Grandparents keep chickens pretty much as pets and will regularly give eggs away to family members because they have tons of them. And I'm just curious what the Vegan perspective on that situation is? Like is the main problem with the cruelty of industrial farming or is using animal products in general just blanketly considered bad?

Like I know Vegans do keep pets, so I just wonder what the perspective would be on using eggs or wool or milk or something from an animal that you care for as a pet? Like, if I decided to rescue a sheep an name them and give them a home with me as like another member of the family, would it be considered unethical to use their wool to make yarn for crochet or something like that? Is it different depending on the situation?

The core belief to keep in mind here is that we as vegans oppose the exploitation of animals for human benefit. For welfarists (who tend to be meat eaters or vegetarians) the main issue with animal products is the cruelty involved, whereas vegans tend to be abolitionists, who want to abolish animal agriculture rather than simply improve treatment.

This is relevant for discussing backyard eggs, because those eggs are the result of exploitation. The hens themselves have been exploited because they have been bred into bodies that vastly overproduce eggs to the extent that it comes with a myriad of health issues, they also usually come from hatcheries where male chicks are brutally slaughtered on mass. To then take what their bodies have spent resources to produce, and therefore profit from that situation, is further exploitation on top of that.

Vegans are generally okay with pets on the basis that they're adopted, and that we aren't exploiting them to serve our own interests. You can adopt hens, but the responsible thing to do is to prevent them laying using implants, except in the USA where this is not allowed. In that case, I personally would prefer chickens were allowed to benefit from their own production and those eggs are fed back to them, which restores some of the enormous amount of energy needed to create them. Excess eggs should then be donated to food banks, fed to other rescued animals or donated to vulnerable people rather than thrown away.

Milk is clearcut, since no animal produces milk without first being made pregnant. To keep a steady flow of milk you have to continuously impregnate them, and generally remove the calf so they aren't drinking it all. Dairy cows once again have been bred to overproduce so there may well be excess, but you really shouldn't be allowing pregnancy in the first place, so this is a moot point in terms of what to do with it.

With sheep it is a bit different, while sheep have been purposely bred to over-produce wool, wool is still an incidental part of keeping sheep, they need to be sheared and there is no real way for them to directly benefit from their own production. It is essentially a waste product at that point, like manure. Views differ on this, but I've no issue with a non-profit organisation selling wool on the basis that 100% of the funds generated go towards the care of the animals in question, which is practiced by many animal sanctuaries. Otherwise I think it is fine if someone donating the wool to an animal shelter for blankets, or turning it into warm clothing for the needy.

As a general rule, animals should be allowed to benefit from what they produce, rather than us. In cases where they can't directly benefit, we certainly shouldn't seek to profit from them. The power dynamic between humans and non-human animals, between pet and owner, will always be imbalanced and to materially benefit from that relationship is taking advantage of that power for personal gain. As soon as you're personally profiting from an animal's body, you also have a vested interest in continuing to make sure the animal continues to produce whatever you are profiting from, opening the door to further exploitation or even abuse.

Things like eggs from pet chickens or wool from a rescued sheep certainly aren't the biggest animal rights issues on our radar, but thinking about it in an ethically consistent fashion means that we apply the same values to these situations as we would any human use of non-human animals. Animals do not exist to serve our interests, and we should respect their bodily autonomy in every way that is possible and practicable. In short, we just shouldn't be looking for ways to benefit from our relationships with animals.

#ask #wool #backyard eggs #eggs #pets

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undeadorion · 3 months ago

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I will never understand the people who are super hard core anti-animal product. They will act like it's about protecting animals, but like with so many other things it's hardcore black and white no nuance no exceptions no context.

These are the people who insist you can't even have honey because you're stealing it from bees. Or worse, think it's made FROM bees. Or that you have to kill sheep to harvest wool, ignoring there's a difference between wool and sheepskin. Or worse, the people who insist on feeding carnivore pets a vegan diet.

Yes, there are a LOT of areas where animal products are genuinely evil. Luxury fur, for instance. Entire coats made from chinchilla fur. That shit's evil.

Yes, there are issues with the meat industry with how animals are treated. But not everyone is capable of just giving up meat, be it for dietary or financial reasons. It's frankly ableist to expect that. Just a vegetarian diet can be difficult to maintain sometimes, and a vegan diet is especially difficult. Due to my particular health situation I need absurd amounts of protein every day. I can get there easily with meat or eggs and dairy. But not with beans and vegetables alone. That's just not how my body works.

Then there's the human toll that they get REAL mad if you question. If they're so concerned about the treatment of animals in the production of food, why aren't they concerned with the treatment of field workers who help produce all those vegetables? Even their precious organic products have a human cost. If they got their dream of the entire world suddenly going vegan, what happens to all of those employees and farmers in the meat and animal product industries? Someone who's been running a generations long diary farm can't suddenly switch to producing corn. That's just not how things work.

Okay, so you don't want to think about that aspect. What about the human cost in literally every industry? The damage to the very earth and eco system to produce the oil that becomes the plastic that is the replacement for leather. Or of the workers in the fields to produce cotton? The sheer amount of waste created because you think leather is the devil, but a good pair of leather boots will last someone decades where any alternative will last a few years at most, if not merely a few months.

I went to a school that lived by these principles. I ended up getting sick because meat was rarely offered in the cafeteria and things I thought were dairy weren't. We had a bedbug infestation because those little shits are immune to anything but the harshest chemicals, but the school refused to use anything that wasn't ultra gentle and natural. The infestation was so bad, my entire dorm floor was quarantined. We could only take a few days worth of clothes and had to shower under guard like fucking prisoners so we could hand off our dirty clothes to be sanitized. Then they sanitized everything in our rooms, damaging most of it in the process. Using heat so intense it melted anything made of fleece, for example. I failed several assignments because I wasn't allowed to take my homework and had limited computer access. But it was more important they didn't use harsh chemicals to treat the problem once. They had to put students through this ordeal EVERY YEAR.

If your reason for being vegetarian or vegan is purely an ethical one and it doesn't also encompass the human suffering brought on by related industries and practices to your own lifestyle, you're just doing it for the clout and may actually be a fucking asshole.

#it makes me so furious

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misc-obeyme · 9 months ago

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I loveloveLOVE the idea of a FarmSim! AU! Like yourself, I assume a lot of us weren’t raised as farmer’s children, and more or less grew up on Story of Seasons/Harvest Moon. (Altho I do know a bit about living in Indiana, land of the Corn and home of the Indy500, if that counts towards anything lmao). In any case, I hope you like mytake on the Sides!

In terms of Farm Sim tropes, I’d be willing to say that The Royals (Dia, Barb, and ‘Phisto) are a part of some sort of local govt. bc I cannot see them as knees-in-the-mud farmer types lol. Maybe the farm is the “ROYAL FARM OF DIAVOLO” or something to try and convince Dia’s (not-in-a-self-induced-slumber) Mega-Corp father that farms are important, and corpo factories are bad. Diavolo has no idea how farming works but he likes to watch and play with the baby animals. Barb does not appreciate the farm visits bc Dia gets super excited and cannot be told “NO” if he wants to walk across a muddy field and up to a bull like “You are a fine specimen! A complete winner!” Luckily he is blessed with “Animals Love Me” kind of luck. Barb makes sure to get the Young Master dressed appropriately for next time. You need to talk to Barbatos about ordering tools, supplies, and contractors to build/repair things like stables, wells, and greenhouses. Mephistopheles takes care of the buying and selling of animals, and you gotta “prove to him” that you can be responsible enough to handle a horse (he does inspections of the farm and makes EVERYONE take riding/horse care tests).

The angels run the local cafe/store where you can get food and seeds, among other things. They buy your products and sometimes make presents (like sweaters made from your sheep's wool). Simeon and Luke run the Cafe side of things, while Raphael runs the store. Since Luke is a bit young to be running a business, he’s more like an assistant baker and he runs the morning collection at your farm. When he has time, he’ll sing to some of the animals.

Thirteen would probably the the Farm Sim Mine Spelunking Monster Trapper or smth like that? She’ll toss some coin your way if you bring her monster parts or rare ore, and maybe she’ll give you some “recipes” to make mining tools/weapons/traps.

And like... How funny would it be if Solomon just... didn’t change? Like at all? He already fits the “supernatural element” of other farming sims. An interesting and mysterious figure that lives just on the edge of the village. If you come to him with the monster parts/ore instead of Thirteen, he could help artifice some of your farming equipment with special traits, or craft potions that help you talk to animals or w/e.

IDK what do you think?

PLEASE I AM LOVING IT.

Okay okay so I totally agree about Diavolo, everything about that is spot on. He's fascinated by farm life, but knows nothing about it just like he is with humans in the game. Totally gets himself dirty because he just wants to experience things! Come on, Barbatos it'll be fun!!

And the corporation dad, that is perfection, too. Of course Dia's trying to convince his dad that farms are good!

Barb is forever suffering lol. While he does have a garden, I can't see Barbatos doing any kind of hard farm work either. He's definitely more suited to getting permits and such, but I could see him frequenting the angels' bakery because he likes to cook. They swap recipes a lot. Maybe he hosts the cooking competition, mostly because I think that'd be so funny.

Mephisto as the animal guy is perfect, you better believe he's gonna make sure your horse area is up to par before he'll even consider letting you have one.

Love the angels running a cafe and store, that's something I could easily see them doing. And oh my heart Luke singing to the animals!! My precious baby son. I kinda see him also being partial to flowers in general, since that's the only thing he's grown in the actual game lol. Maybe he starts making bouquets or perfumes...

Oh man Thirteen as the miner/monster hunter type! She's got a forge and spends untold amounts of time wandering the woods.

Solomon is such a menace and honestly I can't see him doing anything other than being the supernatural being. I keep thinking of Witchie from Story of Seasons/Harvest Moon. Like it'd be funny if he was more like Dessie and lived in a pond, but let's be real, he's definitely the one making weird potions and magic tools and such.

And of course all the characters are also marriage candidates, so if you marry Solomon, he's gonna come live with you on your farm. Spends all day in his wizard tower on the edge of town, but at night he comes home to his lil farmer spouse lsadlkjdfjkfdkjl.

Wow my worlds are colliding so hard right now I can't even deal with it. What I wouldn't give to have all these characters in a game where I could deliberately pursue and marry one of them!

Anyway, I totally love this and your ideas! I'm pretty sure I would do some unspeakable acts to have an Obey Me farm sim game like this.

#this is fantastic and I love it #thank you for sharing this with me #now I really wanna play one of those games again lol #obey me #obey me side characters #dread-bard #misc answers

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puer-aurea · 11 months ago

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been thinking abt a fully fleshed out mercenary au since i posted that oneshot for sixth day of christmas so.... heres a drabble

jimmy and martyn are, ofc, human mercenaries who call themselves the big dogs so they can seem scarier than they really are. theyre mostly homeless theres a rumour abt a witch who lives in the woods and everyone thinks its lizzie but when they show up shes like "oh no thats scar!" and points to her very eccentric and flamboyant neighbor who lives across the river. scar looks NOTHING like a witch but when you go in, you come back out with exactly the potion you wanted, several others you didnt actually need, significanctly less money than what you went in with, and absolutely no memory of actually being inside and making the purchase. hes incredibly suspicious but godDAMN do his potions and crystals work well skizz owns a building plaza named the heart foundation where he rents out sections to people for their stores (yk like those buildings that are connected stores?? i really hope this makes sense). tango is his assistant as well as bigb but bigb is super weird and disappears a lot. tango was the one to suggest the coffee shop idea that martyn overheard. skizz is an angel and tango is an imp lizzie and scar own one of the spaces where they sell very normal things like farm produce and things that would usually be hard for the other members of the community to get like amethyst and food enchanted with elven magic. as well as very specific bones lizzie has found (no, she will NOT tell you where she got them, yes they are organic, she declines to answer if they are ethically sourced). scar is an elf which is why he's able to sell elven enchanted food. the roomies own one of the store spaces and mostly sell wool products but theyve started farming cotton in hopes of expanding their market. they live together on a farm with a fence covered in vines surrounding it so the animals can wander about sometimes. since they sell wool products, they have a lot of sheep, so when they need the sheep back in their pen they hire mercenaries to do it for them. cleo is the only zombie in the community and, while grian was mentioned as an avian in the oneshot, hes actually going to be a fae. everyone thinks etho is a human but he barely leaves home so cleo and grian are the only ones who know for sure whether or not he is gem is the girl who just moved in with the dream of starting a band. she ends up with an imp and an angel both named scott and they call themselves gem and the scotts. they rent one of skizz's spaces for a studio and gem lives in the apartment above it. impulse, scott the imp, lives in a cave, and scott the angel lives in a cottage on the edge of the woods (so not as far in as lizzie and scar) the mounders live in 4 big old creepy houses that look completely different on the inside than they do outside. its also a 'gated' community but they dont care enough to enforce it. mumbo and pearl are both vampires, bdubs is a fae, and joel is an elf. ren is also around to add more people to their little community even tho this uses the alliances made in secret life. he lives in a smaller house a little ways away from scott's cottage. he seems human enough but theres a rumor that he's a werewolf. no one really knows what bigb and lizzie are, scott even introduces them to gem as the 'suspicious weirdos' and cleo and grian joke that not even they know what they are.

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redraspberryleaf · 4 months ago

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You seem to know a thing or two about wool (and definitely more than I do :D )

Is it possible to use wool in normal fabrics like we use cotton today, or are those too fine to work well with wool?

Because if I could replace some of my cotton T-shirts with ones that have similar properties but are made from wool, that'd be awesome!

(also feel free to post a long ass diatribe about what wool can be used for and what not, I love that shit)

Okay so I'm by no means an expert I just have adhd and knit but the answer to your question is yes but there is a catch.

So wool has finally been having the resurgence it deserves in athletic and technical wear because it already does everything they've been trying to engineer other fabrics to do and poured a ton of money into trying to achieve with synthetics. Wool can keep you cool and keep you warm, it helps regulate temperature and humidity, some sheep produce wool that will absorb moisture off of your body into the fibre itself to wick and achieve evaporative cooling at once while some breeds like Icelandic sheep are entirely waterproof. Wool is amazing! Wool is also stretchy and antibacterial to a degree and just does really well with sweat and body odor in general so it just is a natural fit for athletics and outdoorsmanship.

Because of all this a lot of brands have started to produce wool base layers, tees, and sportswear. Smartwool is an example of a company that's gone all in on wool, but a lot of other companies have small lines of wool garments or one offs.

The problem with most of what is on the market right now is that companies want to make it as easily digestible for consumers as possible. They expect that people aren't going to shell out for the fancy wool tee shirts if the experience isn't the exact same as a cotton tee but slightly elevated. Even if caring for a garment isn't necessarily harder but is just different, generally people won't go for it. Because of this there are two issues I have with how a lot of these are produced.

1. Superwash

Most of these are going to be made with superwash yarns. The websites aren't very clear in listing that but they don't really have to be and most people don't really care about that. Unless you're a fibre artist of some sort you probably don't know or care about what that means so why would they list it?

What they do say is that their garments are machine washable and that you should lay flat to dry. That means that even though these products are listed as 100% wool there is some sort of treatment or coating to seal the scales on the wool and make it so they can survive agitation in the wash and regular detergents.

While I'm not totally against superwash in all contexts and know it has a time and a place for sure I think it's important to recognize that a lot of the properties of wool that we love are achieved BECAUSE of the scales on the wool and when you start messing with those your wool isn't going to perform as well across categories. If you're okay with superwash, then go for it. Just know that your wool isn't going to wool as hard as it could wool.

2. Merino

So merino has somehow become shorthand in recent years for luxurious soft yarn. This isn't totally wrong but it isn't totally right. Merino is probably the most popular bread of wool sheep on the planet. It's heavily used because while the fibre is still relatively cheap it is also very fine and flexible which means it's softer, won't prickle the skin, and can be spun into smaller threads. I think they're some thing like a third of the diameter of a human hair??

While all this is great, it means most of these sheep are coming from industrial farms. If animal welfare is your jam (I hope it's everyone's jam to some degree at least) this is where you're going to start worry about farming practices. Industrial scale farms, even in countries with a lot of protective laws, and where you will have sheep with massive scarring as a means to prevent infection, rough handling, and rougher shearing practices. Now I grew up in a farming area, so I know a lot of things that may seem barbaric actually make a lot of sense in practice, and my roomies family have sheep and have string opinions on which of these practices are important to keep around... but I'm not going to get into that knitty gritty (hehe knitting, get it??).

Outside of animal welfare, when you get into these types of farms shitty shearing and frequent shearing are actually a big issue for wool quality. You see, if you aren't doing a nice smooth shear in one go or are shearing the sheep frequently, you start getting a lot of fibres with shorter than typical staplelengths. While this can mean that some of these fibres are softer because they aren't spending as long being exposed to the elements and sun, it also means that the yarns that are spun up from them will be weaker and more prone to breakage.

Honestly I like merino just fine but it really is the clandestine of the yarns. It does the job and all but it's deeply overhyped by good marketing and has just become the go to because people who generally know textiles but aren't total wool nerds know it will do the job and know it will be recognizable to the consumer as a good material. There are just so many other breeds that produce fibre better suited to all kinds of specific jobs that get passed over for merino and so now passionate hobby farmers and yarn nerds are the only ones keeping all these other breeds alive.

So yea, your tee-shirt will probably still be a great and durable shirt, but the quality won't be exactly what you were dreaming of when you first heard about all the amazing things about wool.

So Yes!!! You absolutely can get wool tee shirts and they will be pretty rad, however they won't be the perfect dream shirt that you imagine when you hear a yarn nerd talk about all of the best properties of wool. I have had wool base layers in the past, and I'm planning on buying a set and a tee that will fit my body these days since I've long grown out of my old ones. Will it be perfect and the most ethical thing? No. Will it be better than something synthetic or a lot of plant based options? I personally think so, but that's for you to decide for yourself:).

#omg i never get asks this is actually the best day of my life #wool #wool nerds rise up #info dumping without citations #ill link some sources later if i remember but my brain is breaking down right now #im supposed to be finishing my degree rn oops in doing this instead

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wolfalder · 1 year ago

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What would you consider to be an ethically sourced tail? Where might somebody purchase an ethically sourced tail?

Thank you so much for asking!!! 🐾

Personally I believe It should either: Be sourced as a by-product of the food industry, Transform a waste product to give it value, such as the reclaiming fur from animals culled for environmental management, Minimise waste by re-manufacturing vintage pieces or using surplus manufacturing material, instead of only using new material. There are other options such as taxidermy from ranched animals which were stillborn or died from illness or other natural causes. Byproducts of roadkill, pest management, and wildlife population control which are done in a sustainable manner that keeps the natural population at a healthy and maintainable level. Also if there is no unnecessary pain or cruelty that’s inflicted and killing of said animal involves minimal waste and has a purpose other than simply their fur.

And I know there is the argument that we don’t need to kill animals to make clothing because of course there are other materials to keep us warm, but the best of them (wool, down, leather) also come from animals. Meanwhile, most synthetic fibers (including fake or “faux” fur) are derived from petroleum, a non-renewable resource, the extraction and transformation of which entails serious environmental risks.

In many regions, wildlife populations must be culled annually to maintain healthy and stable populations, to preserve habitat, to protect endangered species (e.g., by culling predators that attack ground-nesting birds or sea turtle eggs), and to safe-guard human health, livestock and property. If furbearer populations must be culled, surely it is more ethical to use these animals than to discard them?

Farmed minks manure, soiled straw bedding and carcasses are composted to produce organic fertilizers, to enrich the soil and produce more food, completing the agricultural nutrient cycle. Biofuels made from mink remains now power buses in Aarhus, Denmark, the world’s largest producer of farmed mink. Similar projects are being tested in North America.

Now after all that here are some options for furs/tails. Though please do your own research into each small business or company you buy from.

https://www.etsy.com/shop/SterlingFoxTaxidermy

https://www.etsy.com/shop/ChimeraTaxidermyAU

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bonefall · 1 year ago

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You've single handedly dragged me back into the warriors fandom with your warriors overhaul and as a consequence I've been dragged back to my ocs, so I decided to give clanmew names a whirl for the biggest one I've got, sheepstrike!

During a particularly hard leafbare, the prey in the moors wasn't enough to sustain windclan, leading to a starvation event similar to the great hunger seen in goosefeathers curse. With many of the weaker cats already having died, the clan was growing desperate, and a then generically named curlyfur (fofwarrlfaf, curled fur, named for a curly fur genetic mutation) stepped up with a risky plan: sneak into the twoleg farm and steal one of the sheep once they were let out in the fields. While the clan cats would normally not do something to potentially provoke the twolegs, at this point they were desperate enough to try, which lead to an eventually successful raid. While the raid was a group effort, the windclan cats attributed their survival to the cat who came up with the daring plan. Curlyfur was then given the honor title Sheepstrike, which I've translated as baabakorren, baa meaning sheep and bakorren meaning to use/make use of. While her original name focused more on the actual acquisition of the sheep, her clanmew translation ended up focusing more on the use of the body, as the sheep not only fed the clan but also kept them warm with the use of its wool, and gave them materials to make future tools with the use of its bones.

Her name would have been easier to translate, but I took it a step further and decided to try and keep the alliteration as a fun little challenge. Maybe it's a fun little naming quirk of the windclan leader? Who knows? All I know is I made things needlessly difficult shuffling through the clanmew lexicon finding any verb that started with the letter b and shoving it against baa to see if it fit.

(I also gave naming her littermate Cornflower a whirl and ended up with Mooheqmwaron, mooheq meaning corn and mwaron meaning bloomed. As a young kit and apprentice cornpaw was rather skittish, but after a bit of socializing she grew into quite the social butterfly, becoming a popular figure at gatherings. The prefix corn was used because of her yellow coat color and her clans close location to a farm, and the suffix flower/bloomed was used in reference to the fact that she grew into herself and metaphorically became a bright and beautiful flower. Her original name is also a bit of a fun jab at cornflour, since I picture her having a grand old time with kitchen duty, specifically the baking of tunnelbuns)

If people keep sharing cool OCs that draw inspiration from BB, I'm going to have to find some way to boost them. Some people understand the assignment and absolutely knock it out of the park!

Speaking of sheep-killing... I am actually planning a minor subplot in BB!DOTC relating to sheep. I think I may have mentioned it in passing at some point, but in a nutshell, there's a point after the formation of ThunderClan where Thunder Storm and the Gang are negotiating with the River Kingdom, Shadow's Clan, and the Wind Coalition.

To stay on their good side, the Wind Coalition employs them for a while to teach them the secret of killing sheep, something that Tribe cats know how to do. But they quickly find out that the reason the Wind's Runner sent them to do this isn't because they're better at killing sheep, but because there is a vicious collie and she wants to see what they do with a sudden challenge.

As a result of what happens here, sheep become much more closely managed and killing them becomes too hard to do casually for future generations. WindClan also carries an important cultural memory from the event; that stealing from humans means more dogs on the moor.

(Also the border collie's name is Hamish, for no particular reason. I just think it's a cute name.)

But anyway! Onto some new words for you!

The word "mooheq" is actually made during the Sundrown Patrol! Corn was only 'discovered' and named after the Clan cats settled at the lake, because of passing through so many farms to find Sanctuary Lake. Before then, all of the strange, unnatural-looking plants grown by humans are called Yoshepe.

It's why they don't have words for most farm animals (chickens, goats) or any other common crop, like tomatoes, potatoes, or lettuce. Only particularly noteworthy human products are given names, like the unsettlingly red domestic rose or medically valuable catmint.

So for Cornflower, if she's from a time before the Lake before they invented Mooheq, I've gone and gotten three plants for you. Two to keep a "direct" translation and one to hopefully keep the "vibe"

Cornflower (Centaurea cyanus) AKA Bachelor's Button = Kerrma This plant (and the next one) are actually named for a very interesting reason; they're 'parasites' of cereal-crop fields. Before industrialization, they carved out a little niche as grain impostors, and humans would unwittingly sew them along with the crop. Kerrma is blue and fluffy, valued for its beauty.

Corn Cockle (Agrostemma githago) = Mwirrma While Kerrma is pretty, safe, and a bit more 'delicate,' Mwirrma is an unkillable weed. Poisonous and seen in cornfields, roadsides, and disturbed areas, this pink flower is seen as a reminder to "be careful" when doing something as risky as visiting a human grain field.

Sunflower (Helianthus annuus) = Awlpon I was actually ready to rule against having a word for Sunflower in base Clanmew, then I learned that sunflowers can naturalize themselves in this area, in addition to being a very common crop. So this is one of the few human crops that Clan cats have a name for. It's yellow, it's grown by farms, it's bright and cheerful and faces the sun. If none of the other two tickle your fancy, here's one for Cornflower's vibes!

#clanmew

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bitchfitch · 1 year ago

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idk I'm just trying to figure out the Vibes of this settings fashion. I'm trying to avoid anything that is like, obviously from any real culture, but if you can't tell from the kimono and dhoti knockoffs, that's hard. Mostly because the rules I've decided on have to do with the sorts of looms that would be being used, what fibers are available+in what qualities, and general climate. Once you narrow down that shit you're left with only a handful of options that have all already been done. Humans been wearing clothes for a real long time. Anyways, fuck you, demon fiber craft lore time

I don't have specific earth place picked out but the gen climate for this part of the setting is very mild. Heatstroke is a concern at the height of summer, frostbite at the height of winter. jorts and a thin hoody would be appropriate clothing for the weather 60% of the year. Just gradient out in those directions from there. Very dry summers, fuck ton of snow in the winter.

Sheep are around but mostly as meat animals with fiber being a secondary product, there's just not enough good grazing land for them since most of the area is forested. There are man made clearings, but full on farms and fields aren't as common as food forests. Plus the dryness of the summer makes a lot of field centric agriculture not an option, it's too dry and there's not enough folk cooperating in the area to manage massive irrigation projects being built up.

What is an option is flax. Grown along rivers most clothing is linen with wool being used for thicker garments and silk for finer garments.

all the work that goes into fabric creation in a pre spinning wheel society means fabric is Pricey. Demonic magic helps, but not a lot. Most garments are not cut or sewn. They're made with whole pieces of cloth wrapped or folded to conserve as much material as possible and then pinned, tied, or otherwise secured.

There's also two very different sorta parts of society to consider for Esti and his outfits.

One is that of his birth. Prim and Proper Nobles who control vast resources largely through negotiation bribery and backstabbing. the Coraxes, their outfits tend to be Expensive, and very much made with a life spent indoors and away from any kind of physical anything in mind. The head family of demons are colorblind, and because of that their fashion, and thus the fashion of those who want to fit in with them, has a very limited pallette, shades of grey and natural fiber colors are the primary elements with red and gold fabric being used as an accent to keep people from thinking too long about their 'fault'. They are totally reliant on their servants to be telling the truth about what color anything is. Esti is from that noble family so his outfits were largely picked out for him when he was to be seen outside their home. big heavy layered skirts that he needs help with when he gets dressed are not his typical vibe but he does appreciate the number of places to hide knives.

Next up are the Cristatuses, Their prevalence and current top dog spot have come from ruthless conquest of nearby territories and a very militaristic vibe. For the common person this mostly just means theyre the big city folk. This is where the money is. Bright colorful fabrics and lots of thin short layers to go with a much more physically active lifestyle of sports and work done outdoors even if it's not work completely suited to being done outside. Breezy. Their wider trade network and attractiveness to merchants also means more options for basically everything to do with clothing accessories and other bits of self ornamentation.

Esti apprenticed with a war lord. His experience with the fashion had a lot more to do with what was practical while on horse back or after the third night sleeping in the dirt. Bright colors stayed but thicker, more minimal, and legged garments were the norm. Armor is a thing, he is an apprentice to a man who should be a prince, he was never supposed to see battle, and was instead kinda meant to become the sort of general who has never actually fought but who knows a lot of tactical theory.

When he finally got to start picking his own outfits he kept with the more neutral and dull colors of his heritage, but the much lighter and easier to move in outfits he was used to wearing throughout his training. Minimal and dull by Cristatus standards, unrefined and brutish by those of the Corax. Very comfortable for him.

#hi i have 7 spinning wheels. that is not a joke. I am very autistic about fiber craft #i paid for 2 of them #people keep giving me things with treddles.#anyways Yeah the corvids are stuffy nobles and the peacocks will find Valhalla through invasion. because that was Objectively the funniest #way to do that.

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alpaca-clouds · 1 year ago

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Medieval Living Situations

It is Sunday and Sunday means I am gonna ramble about history. Yay.

So, please, let me ramble about one thing that I see a lot of people struggle with, because modern sensibilities often collide with medieval practicality.

And that is medieval living situations.

Also, yes, this is a topic I kinda ramble a lot about because my main fandoms are both medieval or quasi medieval and I see a lot of people being super awkward about it.

Let me say it clear and loud: A lot of medieval houses had only one or two rooms.

I know, when people think about medieval houses they often tend to think about castles or at least manors of some sort, because those have more commonly been preserved. Or if anything some bigger farmsteads (usually those, that are in fact not medieval but rather date back to the 18th century). But... That was just not usual medieval living.

A lot of people in the middle ages lived in a house that had one room - or maybe two with a bed chamber and a main room.

This was both because they often had small houses, but also... because in winter you needed to keep the rooms warm somehow and that was easier if you only had one room. It was just more practical that way.

Of course, this depended on how rich people were. Some might have had a house with a couple more rooms. And a lot of farms might have had a place for the farmer and his family to sleep and then a different one for the farmhands and maids, if they could afford those. But for the most part: No, kids did not get their individual rooms from each other. And often enough not from their parents either.

Which, yes: For most of human history children tended to be privy to their parents fucking. This goes back even further than the middle ages. Because... well, yeah. It just was a thing.

Sure, in the households of the richer family, things might have been different in this regard... But for most people things were just a bit more practical and a bit less idealistic.

Depending on your economic standing, you also might only have a straw mattress. And if you were able to afford wool mattresses those would probably keep in the family for long.

Issue with this obviously being flees and the sorts. While people knew how to protect themselves in some ways... Those buggers tended to really be an issue for a fucking long time of human history.

Some folks however did figure out that burning certain herbs in the fireplace of their one room, made those little buggers more likely to move out. So, not all was lost for everyone.

Oh, and if the nights became to cold and the wood to keep you warm to expensive... You also could just move some cattle into the house and have them warm you up.

What I am trying to say is: We often look at medieval times too much with modern sensibilities. Stuff like: "Cattle has to live apart from humans," and "I need a nice soft mattresse," and also "kids should not be exposed to any sex". But... historically folks had to think just a bit more practical about how they designed their homes and lived.

And the thing is: That is alright. It did not make the people back then super miserable. Because life... Just is life.

#history #history ramble #medieval europe #middle ages #european history #medieval culture #living situation

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banisheed · 2 years ago

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TIMING: Current LOCATION: A Latte To Love PARTIES: Siobhan and Wynne CONTENT: Discussions of cults, ritual sacrifices of flesh, body and animals SUMMARY: Siobhan wears a bone dress and Wynne experiences a case of mistaken identity that rings too close to home.

A dress made out of bones was a stupid, terrible and impractical idea…which was exactly why Siobhan needed to have one. When she’d heard that some wannabe fashion designer had put one together, she was off to steal it. When she realized that the dress was too large to fit in her duffle bag and too annoying to carry, she did what any sensible thief would do: she wore it. Thus began her current predicament: she was right in thinking the dress was impractical but she hadn’t considered just how much the ribcage of a rabbit stabing her asscheeks would hurt. She stumbled down the sidewalk, fatigue stinging the edges of her eyes. She could do this, she just needed a little liquid help. Help that would come in the form of the strongest coffee she could legally order, and maybe a pastry or two. She rattled her way through the doors of the closest coffee shop and up to the counter. “Strong,” she said, as though that was a way anyone ordered coffee. “Very strong. Lots of sugar. Do you do Irish coffee, actually?”

—

Modern fashion was strange and inexplicable, Wynne thought. Back at home, all clothes had been handmade and simple — cotton and plaid and wool. Not quite uniform, but still: there had been a throughline. Out here, though, people seemed to wear a wide array of fabrics, in combinations that dazzled and overwhelmed and most of the time, they were intrigued. They spared what cash they had left on clothing pieces they’d never dreamed of wearing. And sometimes, they thought they were going to get it: and then something like this happened. The patron that entered on this fateful day rattled with her dress and Wynne’s eyes widened. In recognition and surprise and a bit of horror too. It was almost as if they could feel lamb rib bones resting against their collarbones again. Their mouth opened, closed and opened once more. “No.” Wynne frowned at their own reply. “Um, no alcohol, I’m sorry. But we do strong.”

They stared at their hands for a moment, before punching in the order. They were too easily unsettled, they knew it — but this was too reminiscent. Not that they or the others had ever worn this many bones at once, but still. “Anything else?”

—

“What kind of an establishment doesn’t have alcohol? It’s nearly 8am, you should be serving it.” Siobhan shook her head; humanity was strange and limited by their arbitrary rules. “I will take strong. Make sure it is very strong. If I sense even a little weakness I will complain.” She was joking, just a little, but her expression remained serious. “And no milk, unless it’s sourced from a farm that treats its livestock and-or the land well. But I sincerely doubt it. So, no milk.” Coffee was not something Siobhan drank often, she had other beverages of choice. Though, with enough sugar, coffee became tolerable. She could manage with a little less if she paired it with something sweet. Which did remind her…

“Aye, can I also get a…” Siobhan whipped her hand out to point, freeing one of the bones on her sleeve. It clattered against the counter and rolled to the other side. “Sorry,” she smiled, “can you get that bone for me?”

—

Of all the lessons Wynne had learned in this so-called real world, dealing with entitled customers was one of the most annoying yet helpful ones. “I know, right?,” they agreed, even if their heart was far from in it. “I’ve told my manager we should get into it.” They nodded at all the requests, swallowing comments on cattle and mass-production of animal products (what a horrible thing!), as Wynne felt like their mind was still playing catch up with the bone attire.

Not that there was much time to do so, with one of the white-yellow things falling from the dress. Poorly constructed, Wynne gathered. What a waste. They watched the thing clatter on and on before ducking behind the counter to lay their fingers on it, bringing it up. For a moment, it laid on the palm of their hand as Wynne observed its familiarity. “Did you know that femurs are beneficial for spontaneity?” They let it roll to the tips of their fingers, extending it and flushing, slightly. “Keep that safe.”

—

“Then why has your manager not implemented an alcoholic menu?” Siobhan questioned with a harsh seriousness. “I believe you are being disrespected at your position; your manager clearly doesn’t respect your opinions and you should stab them.” She paused. “Sorry, I mean speak to them.” She did not mean that nor did she really care for the plight of minimum wage earning employees, but any change that would get her whiskey at 8am was a victory. If one poor barista had to be sacrificed to get it, then she would sacrifice the damn barista. It was that sort of ambition that had gotten her far in life and also exactly nowhere.

“I don’t need help with spontaneity,” Siobhan said, then paused again, hand frozen steadily in the air. A silent beat passed through the air, the lazy sounds of the morning muffled between the glass of the shop and the distance to the counter. “How did you know that was a femur?” Humans weren’t so good with their bones and certainly not animal bones—femurs turned to humeri, ulnae to radiuses. She took the femur from their hands, smiling brilliantly. “What’s this?” she asked, pulling another bone off her dress and then another. “Can you tell what animal they’re from too?” This barista wasn’t a fae, she knew, but it didn’t mean that they couldn’t have ties to banshee culture somehow.

—

They were a bit taken aback by the other’s words, eyebrows creasing. As if going against the wills and wishes of a superior was something Wynne was keen on doing. Despite previous bouts of disobedience, they were still fond of following rules and bending to another’s will. “Oh. Well, maybe I will talk to him about it again.” Not that they had even talked about it in the first place. It seemed this world required a lot of white lies, especially when dealing with customers. They much disliked the insinuation that they were disrespected, however, and tried to let it go by wasting no words on it.

Wynne had expected that their comment on the bone might have been met with skepticism and confusion. They get skepticism, though the confusion was all theirs when the other smiled and dropped more bones on the counter. While taken aback, they also found themself intrigued, pulled to the familiarity of once-alive things. Remnants of a life lived. “Rabbit.” They cleared their voice, turned one of the bones over with the tip of their finger. “And this is a vertebrae.” A moment of thought, but they’re not sure what kind of vertebrae. They point at the other bone. “Scapula.” That was easy. Wynne remembered the initial question posed and circled back, not out of a wish to answer but rather politeness. “I was taught by my parents.”

—

There were a few explanations for humans that could decipher animal bones from a look: bone hobbyists, veterinarians, hunters (of actual animals) and people who had read the rare classic Animal Bone Identification for the Lazy Banshee. Though, seeing how the book only had one copy and laid unfinished in her grandmother’s study, it probably wasn’t that. And how many of those humans were taught by their own parents? Siobhan was intrigued. “Does your family scream a lot?” she asked. “Were you taught the old ways?” How long had it been since she’d spoken to a banshee or banshee-related-family-member-who-will-probably-be-used-for-ritual-sacrifice (a BRFMWWPBUFRS for short)? Too many years; she’d fallen out of touch with the euphemisms. Too tired to spare a moment for reflection, Siobhan pulled her glove off and revealed the thick scar line across her palm. “Did you give blood too?” Siobhan wasn’t one for politeness, she could be cordial if the whim struck her but, after decades of mingling with humanity, the whim didn’t strike her very often. “I’m surprised you’ve lived this long, you look to be…what? In your early 20s? Did they not take your life yet? Or are you…” Maybe they didn’t know; a few BRFMWWPBUFRS’s were raised with the knowledge of their necessary gift to their sisters or daughters, but most were not. Humans didn’t like knowing that they were going to die, after all.

“I’m sorry,” Siobhan shook her head, pulling her glove back on. She wasn’t a banshee anymore, not like she used to be. Rules and traditions and secrecy were no longer meant to be in her vocabulary. It was for that reason that she didn’t think to temper her thoughts. “Did you run away, is that it?”

—

They should have lied. It could have been easy to say that they were a student in the field of animal biology or something of the sort, but Wynne had somehow offered a nugget of truth and now there was question after question. They knew their eyes were growing wide, that the trepidation that spread through them must be noticeable — they just weren’t sure how to stop it from happening. The questions were simply too pointed, too fitting for the life they had tried to abandon for them not to have some kind of reaction.

Mouth opened and closed. They nodded, “I was taught the old ways. We screamed, sometimes.” How they had screamed! Of euphoria and rage and laughter, around bonfires and dressed in dead things or even in nothing at all. Wynne tended to forget that, that they had been loud once. Their eyes were glued to the scar on the other’s hand and they shook their head, as if to say no, not yet, I was meant to give my blood, all of it, but I refused. Something in them resisted answering out loud, as if doing that would be to acknowledge that there was something true here. They tried instead to focus on ringing up the other, but the idea of asking her to pay for her coffee seemed ludicrous now.

The scar disappeared from view, hidden by cloth. The bones still remained on the counter, though. Wynne laid them in the correct order through force of habit. “How do you know?” Their voice was quieter now. Defensive, in a way. “I don’t know you.” Their gaze leveled with the other, wide-eyed yet unwavering. They weren’t sure if they were talking to the other or themself. “So how could you possibly know? Are you here to collect?” But was this it, was this where it would happen? In the coffee shop Wynne hated and loved, at the beginning of a long shift? Surely not — it would be a lousy way to meet their reckoning. “I didn’t run away. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

—

The emotions that danced on the barista’s face were a shock to Siobhan just as much as it seemed her words were a surprise to them. She nodded as they went on: yes, the old ways. Yes, the screaming. And finally, yes, collection. Siobhan eyed the barista up and down, surveying the angle of their jaw and the curve of their ears. She’d been expecting a banshee, but what did she really know about Regis? She knew Regis had run away from Saol Eile and nothing more; she was issued a command and servants didn’t ask for clarification. Siobhan’s smile sharped, a knife’s edge on either side. “I was gone before you were born but I will return again, with you, to serve Death as our birthright dictates.” Siobhan held her hands out, palms up, smiling frigidly; there was no space in her to hold warmth for an insolent, ungrateful and selfish idiot.

Her gaze moved to the swing door at the end of the counter and then to the counter itself. Should she jump over or run to the side? Siobhan stared up at the barista. “Look at how you debase yourself here. You are worth more than this. You abandoned your duty to Fate and Death and still, even a coward like you is better than all these animals. You have a place in this world. You ought to serve it.” Her hands snapped into fists as a tremor erupted across her body; a flare of anger. Regis didn’t know how good they had it. Siobhan’s penance didn’t include playing pretend at a human job with soft, unmarred skin and freshly baked goods. She lived in damp alleys. She endured the phantom pain of old punishments. She had to live with an ugliness that could never be uprooted. But together--tethered by cosmic forces beyond them--they’d been granted an opportunity for atonement.

She leaned across the counter, betraying desperation. “Take your place as the prodigal child then,” she pleaded softly. “Be received again among our family. We can reach absolution together, child.” Perfection stood just one false marble countertop away. If the barista wouldn’t come willingly, SIobhan would make them. “Come home.”

—

Wynne’s mind returned to that state it was often in: attempting to play catch up. As if life moved just a little too fast for them. As if they weren’t supposed to be here — which might be true enough. They should be ashes and bones, drained and immortalized in oil paint like all those before them. Or if not that, they should be further west or south, not in the same state, stuck in a place that had appealed to them for reasons that seemed unjustifiable now. They felt their hands fall slack to their sides, the cash register and all others in the store forgotten. Their heart climbed up in their throat.

Rationality was hard to come by as Wynne imagined this stately woman taking hold of them. They were only a few hours away from the lake. And there had been stories of deserters returning, hollow-eyed and starving — but Wynne was doing fine, no demon had come knocking, no end-of-the-world had occurred. The lake still stood. They shook their head, uncharacteristically adamant. “It’s too late. How can I serve my purpose now, when the time has passed? I rejected it. I won’t go back. There’s no use.” The blue moon had occurred and here they were, still breathing. Maybe there was a hint of regret in their tone, as this half-life so often felt hard to live: but it was being lived. Better the uncertainty of what was to come than the certainty of being dead.

And yet here was the word absolution, that promised word. A biblical word, that the elders sometimes spat on and sometimes dangled over their heads. God would never grant them as much, but Gythraul might, if they did what was asked. Wynne was quiet for a moment, before their voice betrayed them. “So they’re alive?” Their tone small, eyes inquisitive, perhaps hopeful — there was no way that they’d be received kindly, but if they were alive, they might be okay. “They’re okay? My family?”

—

“There is always time,” Siobhan smiled; she was doing her best to remain friendly. If she thought too long, too much, about Regis she would remember how much the idea of Regis made her skin crawl. All the things she had ever wanted, all the things she had broken herself for were things Regis had abandoned. And why? Didn’t Regis want perfection? Didn’t Regis want love? Home was the only place for people like them to be. Siobhan had been cast out, Regis had left. “For people like us--children of powerful forces--there is always a space for us at our home. We can go there, you and me, we can become whole again and serve our higher purpose. Isn’t that what you want?” Siobhan reached out again, eager to take the barista’s hands in her; the woman of Soal Eile often had, screaming in unison. “Don’t you seek atonement? Don’t you want to be in the place where you belong? With the people who understand you? These humans…they don’t know what it’s like to be us. They don’t know how wonderful life can be--how our bodies can be used to serve Fate. They don’t understand us, they never will. Come home.”

The barista’s worries gave Siobhan pause. Regis didn’t seem like the type to be concerned about the family they abandoned; why abandon them at all then? “I don’t know,” Siobhan sighed. “I assume…” She swallowed hopelessly at the lump that had formed in her throat. When she had betrayed Fate, her mother’s reputation was on the line. Daughters were nothing but extensions of their mothers, after all. And she had made the only decision a sensible mother could make: punish the daughter. “I don’t know, honestly. I would think…I would guess that they are…we won’t really know unless you…” Siobhan let the answer hang in the air like a guillotine. “I was told to bring you back, I can assume that they wouldn’t have bothered with that at all if your family wasn’t alive and waiting.” Siobhan’s head hung low; an honesty escaped her lips. “My mother..when I…” Her body caved in on itself and she shrunk, imagining the lanky girl that she used to be. “I was insolent; disobedient. The punishment was for me, not for her, and she cleaned herself of my sins. She is alive. She is well. So is my family. Perhaps yours is too? We look out for our kind, don’t we?”

—

They had once been good at keeping their face slack, at removing all emotions from it. Wynne had sat front-row at rituals, decorated with bones and flowers and leaves, looking tranquil as ever. Emotion had not betrayed them then, but that was when they had still easily buried it. Now it raised through their body, painting their face with confusion. They did not touch the other’s hands, staring at them instead. “The betrayer’s moon has come and gone, it’s too late.” It was too late to think of returning, to think of atonement, to consider that there was still a home to return to. Wynne swallowed. “You lie.” The words are uttered in a defiance they’d not often shown their elders, back home. Was this woman like them? Someone so wise, so well-read when it came to scripture, fluent in Welsh and all things gythraul? If so, why hadn’t Wynne ever met them? “What is there for me? Not life. Sacrifice? You want me to return home just to live with my impending death? There’s no atonement. It’s too late.” It would be a decade before the next human sacrifice. A new child had already been chosen. Wynne had held Gawain’s hands plenty of times, sat in the knowledge they both shared: that their sole purpose was to live long enough to die. “I don’t belong there.”

But how could Wynne be immune to all of this? The promise of home, the image of their parents and brother still alive and willing to welcome them with wide arms? Their breathing was shallow, their stomach tense. “What do you mean, you don’t know? You must know if they’re all dead or not. You have to —” Their mouth closed before desperation could make their words tumblr out in quick succession. There was truth in the other’s words: there was no way to know unless Wynne went back to the lake and saw for themself. They hadn’t, for months. “Who told you to bring me back?” It had to have been one of the elders. Their head shook, their eyes wide as the other seemed to betray emotion herself. Wynne wanted to cry, felt it gather in their throat. How they missed this sense of kinship and community the other spoke of. “You’re not like me. It’s different. No matter why you were cast out, and I’m sorry that you went through that, but it’s not the same.” Their bottom lip trembled. “When have they ever looked out for me? You’re lying.”

—

Siobhan had no idea what a ‘betrayer’s moon’ was, but all banshee lineages were a little different. Hers was millennia old and they had strange words for a number of things, even as they tried to modernize themselves. “You would know if I was lying—I would get hives.” Siobhan rolled her eyes, losing her patience for Regis’ antics; she ought to reach across the table and drag them back home. Yet, as the barista went on, Siobhan’s fists stopped trembling with rage. Impending death? The thought tickled her mind. Again, she looked over at the barista, eyeing them from the top of their head to the end of their apron. “Ah…” The recognition burst in her eyes, wide with the reality that laid before her. “So you are a BRFMWWPBUFRS then? I didn’t want to assume but…” Of course, the acronym when spoken sounded like jumbled nonsense and so Siobhan realized she should clarify. “They planned on killing you for someone else’s awakening?” It was true that all banshees were women. It was more true that not all banshees gave birth to daughters. What became of the other children? The idea nauseated Siobhan and as she stared at Regis, she realized just how young they were. Her family believed strongly that the children should never be taken, that was why you had fathers and friends. Not all families thought the same. What good was a BRFMWWPBUFRS except for the ‘ritual sacrifice’ part of that acronym?

The reality of their life was grim but what did it matter to Siobhan? She dreamed of this day; fantasized the sensation of her wings against her back again. She told herself that the cost didn’t matter, she would return and become whole again. Regis was so young. But who cared? Regis had life yet to live. But why should that stop her? Everyone had their role to fulfill. “You have a duty to Death.” Regis would serve theirs by dying, giving way to the world’s next banshee. Siobhan didn’t care that they looked to be in their early 20s at best. It didn’t bother her that they had feared their fate so much that they ran away. “Yes, normally people like you are expected to live more of a life and have a family but if your death needs to come early then it should and that…” Siobhan’s voice cracked. She swallowed. The barista was right, she had been lying. She said any cost was well worth it. “I won’t take you back.” But she couldn’t justify this. “Not unless your family can reach some agreement. You’re too young and it’s not right to take the child. It was my mother who instructed me to come for you, Regis, though she gave me no details. Yes, I am not like you. I am a woman. I screamed. But I have no intention of sending you to an early grave for a question that can be easily answered by patricide or getting your sister—or niece or cousin or what have you—to make a friend. Really, there’s no reason you, specifically, have to die.”

—

The way the woman held herself so casually and yet so tight with anger made Wynne hesitant, but their confusion won over time and time again. It was as if from the moment they’d run off and started asking questions, it had become second nature. To question everything. “A what?” It’s not really curiosity any more, but rather desperate confusion. Something wasn’t matching up, was it? “No, not for an awakening — we don’t subscribe to ideas of enlightenment, or any of that. I was to die in order …” They took a deep, shaky breath in, closing their eyes for a moment. They forbade their mind to go to these places most days, years of repression having made Wynne into a skilled escape artist when it came to their own feelings. “Because gythraul demanded it, because we needed to appease It.” It was impossible to say, it seemed, that it would have been for the betterment of their community — either the other knew and could see through their selfish lies, or they didn’t and Wynne could keep their evilness to themself. They swallowed. “Because it was time.” The betrayer’s moon had been close, the night of their abandonment. A waxing moon bright in the sky. It had been hungry and Wynne had been too.

Something seemed to settle. Like the ashes after a bonfire, falling on the center yard of the commune, the rest after rage. Wynne wasn’t sure whether it was a good or bad change and so held onto their breaths tightly. They wished to open their mouth, to exclaim that they did not want to die yet, that it was cruel and unfair that it was demanded of them — that the world still turned and they still breathed and no creature had risen from the cracks of the earth or descended from the sky to take them. But they’d learned not to petition for their own needs long ago and so they only did it quietly. And then things did settle, the woman reaching a conclusion that made Wynne’s breath slip from their mouth. “You’re not making sense. If they sent you, then you ought to know that it can only be me, that it should have happened already.” They shake their head, breathing in and pushing a hand against their collarbone to center themself. Wynne was distantly growing aware that perhaps not everything they had been taught was based in truth, or at least that there was more to it: but what their life had led up to was true, wasn’t it? “It is always a child! It has been that way for three hundred years. There is no agreement: there’s just me, alive, gone from them.” They shake their head again, look up with wide, fixed eyes. “I won’t go back.” The bridge was burned. Its ashes had settled.

—

Fainche Dolan had a theory about the world: all lives were tangential to each other, creating a dizzying pattern of never-ending curves and long dark lines. She swore that she could see it in the sky some days but most days she was lost along its winding trails, searching for the lives that were meant to meet hers. Siobhan never took anything her grandmother said seriously. Her mother asserted that Fainche wasn’t right in the head, whatever that meant. Siobhan had grown up watching the woman flagellate herself over dinner, the constant whip crack and tearing of flesh found a rhythm over the steady beat of forks against shitty paper plates. Fainche was troubled, yes, but she was also right. No one experience was wholly unique. All of it was tangential. Siobhan could see it now and with only a little embarrassment that she hadn’t noticed it sooner.

Siobhan didn’t know a Gythraul and the children didn’t always die and an awakening was a concept so deeply related to the core of being a banshee that to deny it wasn’t just foolish, it meant that the person she was talking to wasn’t talking about the same thing. And, of course, their way of living was much, much older than 300 years. This person wasn’t Regis, but they were something so terribly similar that even now, even after she had cleared the fog of confusion from her own mind, they were still making sense. Siobhan laughed. Her head tilted up to the ceiling and she clutched her stomach, rattling all the bones on her dress. She exploded with laughter, she barked with it. She made the glass tremble around her and didn’t care. When she was done, she swiped at a tear that had formed in the corner of her eye. “You were going to die to appease someone named Gythraul!” Siobhan clutched the end of the edge of the counter. “Gythraul! What a stupid name. Doesn’t that just mean devil? The name’s not even original. That’s so embarrassing for you.” Siobhan shook her head, taking the bones off the counter. “Can you imagine if you died for some cretin named Gythraul? I think I would sooner perish from the humiliation of ever worshiping a Gythraul.”

Siobhan, now with the bones in her hand, shook them quickly in the air. “Look, if I know anything about groups of people that worship entities that call themselves the devil, or some such nonsense, it doesn’t matter who dies. No one is that special. So you can…” She waved the bones around some more. “…rest easy knowing that your life doesn’t matter at all and that you’re going to die having worked as a barista in a coffee shop that doesn’t even serve alcohol at 8am. I’m sure Gythraul just ate someone else, or whatever happens there. Oh! Is that why you were asking about your family? Yes, maybe Gythraul ate them.” She’d meant all that as a reassurance, as the easy smile and bright tone of voice was meant to convey.

—

The other laughed, the entire shop shaking with her disrespect and Wynne wasn’t sure what shook them more: the threat of being dragged home or the way the other spat on Gythraul so easily. Back at home, such behavior would be met with repercussions the Protherians didn’t speak of but all knew about. There was no questioning the lack of name, the lack of details, the way there was no proof that any of this was necessary. To ask was to cause dissent and to cause dissent amongst a society that functioned so well with its hands clasped together? Well, that simply made no sense. And if one were to cross that line, they never would again.

“It’s not Its name, it’s Its title,” Wynne said, their voice more strong now. They might have run from the demon’s demands, but that did not mean they had abandoned all their respect in the same move. It still remained to be a powerful being that had granted fortune to their family over the centuries, after all. They stared at the other and her ignorance, the way she put it so blatantly and proudly on display. Another heathen, like so many others — but one Wynne found easier to condemn.

It would be so easy to lose themself in judgment, though. To revert to the old ways and to look down on all those who thought the Protherians fools. To spit on them and their naivete. But Wynne’s customer seemed knowledgeable, somehow. “What do you know, of communities that worship demons? Of sacrifice?” Their legs felt shaky, their fingers itching with the need for more knowledge and the equally strong fear of receiving it. They knew that there were repercussions for their abandonment – there simply had to be – but what they were was a truth Wynne had avoided. And yet here was a stranger, alluding that their family might have paid the price. How realistic a thought. Wynne forgot, momentarily, that their family had been content to watch them die too as their fingers were closing around the fake marble counter. “Who are you?” A beat. “I need to know. For the order.” A half-truth.

—

“Oh, it’s a title,” Siobhan laughed again, stifling the sound with her hand. “That’s even worse. Did your people bestow it upon Gythraul or did Gythraul do it? Because in one scenario that’s cute--” she emphasized the word sharp sweetness, equal parts patronizing and delighted. “--and in the other it’s just sad.” Siobhan picked at a piece of lint that had gotten stuck between two of the bones on her dress, stuffing the ones she was holding into her convenient dress pocket. As the barista went on, it occurred to the banshee that her conversation partner wasn’t thrilled. She couldn’t tell what emotion it was: fear masquerading as anger, ignorance playing into the hands of stubbornness. Could someone who abandoned a demon still hold its name in reverence? Siobhan cocked her head to the side, eyeing the barista.

Her lips curled upwards. “Of sacrifice, I know everything--” It was a hard statement to make as a fact, but Siobhan thought of it as the truth. She had been birthed into sacrifice, forged by it, watched it given over and over again. Every breath she took was a sacrifice she made; every word came with a cost to her. She had already been broken into shards and offered out bit by bit. What remained was not a woman, not a person, but an instrument belonging to higher powers. What did she know of sacrifice? It was a cruelty to be asked. Siobhan tore her gloves off, showing the thick scars across both of her palms once more. Slowly, she turned them over to reveal the scars that ribboned the back of her hands; the webbing across her knuckles, the carving of another’s initials on her right hand, the rivers of scars that ran without purpose and the valleys of once-perfect skin that were hidden between them. “There are ways to sacrifice a life that don’t involve death; there are avenues of worship that you cannot fathom. Every so often, a group of people like you emerges, worshiping some person or demon or idea. Sometimes the thing you fear is real, sometimes it isn’t. Eventually you fall away, the world forgets you and the thing you held with such reverence. Or your demon gets bored. But what I am? What I worship? It is always here. It will always be here. You’re not special.”

Siobhan squeezed her hands into fists. “Siobhan. Spelt like--” Siobhan’s fingers unfurled. “You know what? Just spell it however you want.”

—

They fought hard to keep their cheeks from flushing with indignation and shame. Wynne could make no sense of it, their shame in leaving the commune and how it went hand in hand with their need to defend it. “It’s just Welsh. It’s just what we call It. Its true name is only reserved for a few to know, that’s just common sense.” They would have known it, on that fateful day they escaped. It would have been their job to summon It by name, speak those secret syllables to let It know the hour was there. And then the knife would have come down and they’d have bled and never even seen it.

Their head shook in response to the others’ answer. “No, I mean — you said it wouldn’t matter to a demon, who dies? What do you mean, I’m not special?” Wynne was unable to hide their desperation, their stomach growing as tight as ever. They weren’t supposed to heed the opinions of others in regards to all of this, but the woman seemed far from ignorant. And they had always stood in the shoes of a follower, someone who took the words of their elders as truth. There had been so few guiding hands these past months. Besides, this mattered, if it was true. If they weren’t special, if their death could have been replaced by any other young or even old body … it was something their mind had played with before, the question of why them. They had asked it and met the repercussions and then never asked again. More importantly, and perhaps more harrowingly: neither had their parents. Wynne’s thoughts circled around that thought as they stared at the scars on the other’s hands. “What do you worship?” This was asked more quietly, with a trepidation. “Why would it demand this?” Even if this kind of sacrifice didn’t demand death, why did it have to exist in the first place? Wynne was tired of the thought of bleeding for another. In their naive mind, the fatigue extended to the marred skin of a customer. Even if she scared them.

Wynne took a paper cup, not bothering to ask if the other wished to have the coffee for here or to takeaway. Takeaway it would be. They wrote down Siân before starting the process of grinding beans. “I know how it’s spelled.”

—

Siobhan stared at the hypocritical creature in front of her--the compromised morals, the twisted loyalties. Why run away if they were still going to defend their little community? She watched them cling to whatever respectability they could. She saw something of herself there: how she still held her head high, spoke of fae like she belonged among them. Her body flared. She looked away. “Do you think a demon really cares who dies for it? Do you? If a train is rushing forward, does it matter who you’ve tied to its tracks? If a hungry lion needs to eat, do you think it cares what body its teeth sink into? Would a demon really care? What makes you so special? What stars were you born under that someone else could not see as well?” Siobhan faced them again. “No one is special in the gaze of Death. No one is special under the order of Fate. We are all the same, in the end. Just bodies.” Siobhan knew; she’d made this mistake before. She’d believed someone could be special--she believed Fate would acquiesce. She was wrong. This barista was wrong now. To be special was blasphemy.

“I worship Fate, Death, nature, the turn of the world and my place in it. A nebulous concept. To assign an understanding to Fate or Death would be a disservice; those forces do not act with intention. They command. They take. I give.” Siobhan pulled her gloves back on. “Fate demands nothing, Death demands nothing; to demand is to possess desire, of which they do not. These are actions taken to assure that I am serving as faithfully as I can. In truth, I can be devout without ever spilling my blood--but I can give more like this. Fate and Death exist without me, I am not so special that they require my sacrifice specifically. I am nothing but a servant to them. It is my place to be.” Her hands fell to her sides. “Or I was. I will be, again, one day. Properly.” She looked up. “Is my coffee done?”

—

Wynne felt something twist and pull in their stomach. These were just observations spoken by a stranger, ones they should disregard and not even ask after — but they scratched an itch they had been trying to ignore for months, if not years. They had purged themself of their questioning nature, bending curiosity into something more palatable. The elders could be cruel in their guidance, when met with too much skepticism. “I was born after a betrayer’s moon, that’s what marked me and –” The sentence died on their tongue. Wynne placed the cardboard cup under the espresso machine, working on the big coffee the other had requested in what by now seemed another day. If this stranger’s words were true and there was nothing about their flesh, their being, their life that was special then someone else was dead, now. Then it made sense, why the earth hadn’t ripped in two or goat’s hooves hadn’t followed them down here or there was no word of a massacre up at the lake. They found no words to answer, all energy spent on keeping their hands from trembling.

The customer’s beliefs hit close to home too, the way she spoke of the turn of the world and how people stood outside its ways. But their religion had always been marked by desire and demand. Corwyn Prothero had demanded something and so gythraul had demanded something in return and on and on the cycle went. They were just a chip in a game. “What is it called, what you believe in?” It was the only response Wynne could come up with. Their head felt light. “I hope you can return to it.” Another thing said distantly, as if it echoed. They weren’t sure if they meant it. Maybe they were all better off without any of this, like the rest of the world seemed to be. “Almost.” The smells of freshly brewed coffee were filling the air, the machine churning on.

They pulled the cup from underneath it, placing a lid on top and sliding it towards the other. It took a moment before they realized they weren’t quite done yet. “Cash or card?”

—

“Do you believe that your birth charts the course of your life?” Siobhan asked as though she didn’t believe the same principle. Her birth, during a war to a banshee, marked the course of her life so inextricably that the roadway of it haunted her. She knew what she was, what she was to become and what essence prescribed her meaning. She was not a woman, not a coffee drinker, she was the same as the girl who had been born under the stars in 1917; she was a tool of Death and a follower of Fate. Never once did her life deter from its goal, and eventually, she would return to it as though she had never left.

“I said already; I worship Fate,” Siobhan answered plainly. “Death. Their core essences and their unchanged presence. I worship the natural world and its proceedings. Not a name; not a face. Just this that already rules our lives.” The weight of it pressed against her shoulders; it dug in and made a home in her flesh. For so long, she had been banished from her people, but to them that was only a droplet in the span of their lives. She would go back. She would forget this encounter, as she would anything that happened in this unimportant town. “To live under the rule of a higher power is our calling, isn’t it? What do our lives matter anymore?” Siobhan stared at the barista, waiting for something that never came.

Across the counter, Siobhan slid the femur they had identified earlier. “For spontaneity,” she laughed before she grabbed her coffee and wiggled out of the shop--her dress was hard to move in, after all. She had to go one leg after the other and looked more like a crab than a humanoid.

She trusted that the barista understood that it wasn’t a matter of cash or the card she clearly had in her pocket, but the things that needed to be done to cling to an identity that faded with each passing day.

#i love marin and i love wynne #all hail gythraul #petition for wynne to be the new gythraul signatures here pls #1 like = 1 wynne as the new cult leader #(thank you marin 4 this fun time)#skeleton of a rabbit #writing #s1 #c: wynne

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