#i mean even before the october revolution or the february revolution even. oh and before that revolution in 1905 lenin argued that party

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

Personally, I think if you describe yourself as a socialist and also have a bust of Vladimir Lenin's head in your house, I should be allowed to smash that bust over your head with no consequences.

[theharellan]

Marking Time

Part one of a series of headcanons discussing holidays and celebrations in Elvhenan, both in the empire itself and the rebellion that later challenged its power. I’ll be laying out my influences more clearly in the next part, but for now I’ll just say that my major influences in writing this are Jewish and Celtic. I’m doing this with feedback and may make adjustments as I go forward. I’m also happy to share headcanons and I’m also just as happy to make room for one another’s headcanons should they conflict in roleplay.

As a final note: conlangs are not my specialty, I am just doing my best. Oh, and please don’t reblog this without asking me first!

Elvhenan

Cole: Look at all the stars. Their light is very far away. Some of them are gone.

Solas: Vast but still. Does it bother you, how different it looks than the sky in the Fade?

Cole: At first, I didn't remember. Now I just want to forget.

Before the Veil time was, shall we say, a nebulous concept. We know it existed in some sense from codices such as the Hundred Year Duel and Birds of Fancy, which both refer to “years,” indicating that the idea exists, but is treated much differently from how we might treat a year. There aren’t birthdays, traditional New Years, and everything else we associate with a calendar year. From what we know of Thedas, it takes the same amount of time for the plant its on to rotate around the sun as Earth, and I think Elvhenan were cognizant of that fact but didn’t consider it particularly remarkable. If they had anything resembling months, I think there would only be four— spring, summer, fall, and winter, beginning on the equinox and ending on the solstice, or vice versa.

Rather than measure time based on the rotation of the planet, or even the rotation of the moons around the planet, Elvhenan measured time on other celestial bodies. The elves and spirits of Elvhenan are consistently associated with the air and sky, in contrast to the dwarves, they also through the Fade seem to perceive the heavens differently than we do. As I highlighted above, Cole is aware of the fact that many of the stars they see are dead, and I think this would also mean that Elvhenan possessed knowledge of things such as the expansion of the universe, the the death of stars, the passage of comets, the rotation of whatever system their planet lies in around the universe’s center, et cetera. It was through these that they marked the passage of time and designated particular holidays. For example, a centenary comet which passes beneath the boughs of the constellation now known as Fervenial might kick off a holiday honouring the goddess Andruil.

In Elvhenan sacred space was also considered more important than sacred time. Pilgrimages were common and often important parts of the lives of the faithful, but there was never a set time of year in which to take them. It was always the where instead of the when, and I mean “where” in two senses of the word. Where could mean the sacred lands of Mythal, or the wooded paths in deep, dark woods, with only the distant stone gaze of Fen’ara to mark the wilderness, but “where” could just as easily be a state of being (or sometimes both). Attaining a particular state of mind through meditation was an important step in reaching the Deepest Fade, a mark of spiritual achievement that took years of work and practise. Being in the right emotional state of mind to embark on a pilgrimage was important, and failing to do so would risk the wrath of the god in question.

Elvhen Revolution

Vir sulahn'nehn Vir dirthera Vir samahl la numin Vir 'lath sa'vunin'

Come the rebellion, time is measured differently. It begins first and foremost as a survival tactic and a war tactic, I’ve mentioned in prior headcanons that the rebellion employs guerilla tactics in order to get the edge on Elvhenan’s forces, which vastly outnumber theirs. One way they subvert the manner in which war is waged is making battles much shorter than is expected. We see in the Duel of a Hundred Years that some battles could last a century and the most noteworthy thing about them was not their longevity, but the reason for which they were fighting (preventing a war between the gods). By making battles that are expected to last years last weeks, days, hours, retreating into dreams as quickly as they manifested, they catch the enemy off-guard. By inventing the concept of weeks they’re living in a way that their enemy doesn’t even fully understand. It allowed things to be put on tighter schedules, enabled meetings to be arranged and carried out on short notice, enabled rotating shifts for things such as uthenera where oftentimes someone had to be the person to rise and make sure the others’ bodies would not starve to death in dreams.

And it enabled sacred time rather than sacred space.

Often deprived of the places they would consider sacred, the rebellion created their own sacred ceremonies from wherever they happened to be. Battles that were fought and won on one cold winter morning would be marked again the next year in celebration and memorial, but carried on no longer than the skirmish itself had. When it is their freedom upon the line what time they have cannot be eaten up by weeks or years of frivolity. Not when tomorrow could be their last day alive.

Their years began with summer and their weeks began and ended with sundown, each month contained twenty-nine or thirty days, divided further into two fortnights, and there are twelve to thirteen months in a year (every two and a half years an intercalary month is added).

Days of the Week

The week begins with Saturday night/Sunday morning and continues on to sundown on the following Saturday.

Sa’laia — First Night (sah-lie-a)

She’laia — Second Night (shay-lie-a)

Tanalaia — Third Night (tah-na-lie-a)

Nehlaia — Fourth Night (neh-lie-a)

Uylaia — Fifth Night (ooth-lie-a)

Valaia — Sixth Night (vah-lie-a)

Var’laia — Our Night (var-lie-a)

Months

There are twelve to thirteen months in the year, with a leap month every two and a half years to compensate for the shift in the year.

Enasalas — The Triumph of Joy Over Grief — Justinian-Solace / June-July

Bella’serannas — The Time of Many Thanks — Solace-August / July-August

Valelgar — The Sun’s Waning — August-Kingsway / August-September

Adhalana — The Time of Trees — Kingsway-Harvestmere / September-October

Elvhen’al — The Gathering of the People — Harvestmere-Firstfall / October-November

Sethenerava — The Time for Dreams — Firstfall-Haring / November-December

Estarasyl’an — The Month of Stars — Haring-Wintermarch / December-January

Fen’banal’ras — The Wolf’s Shadow — Wintermarch-Guardian* / January-February

Mi’avhena — Winter’s End — Guardian-Drakonis / February-March

Thenalava — The Time of Waking — Intercalary Month, occurs every third year

Ghilana’ma — The Time of Guidance — Drakonis-Cloudreach / March-April

Anallas — The Month of Clouds — Cloudreach-Bloomingtide / April-May

Balam’shivana — The End of Duty’s Chains — Bloomingtide-Justinian / May-June

* The month of Guardian is a remnant of the Elvhen calendar’s influence upon the Tevinter calendar, as wolves are/were considered guardians in Elvhen myth.

These calendars later went on to become the Dalish calendar. After the fall of the Veil, refugees from both Elvhenan and Fen’Harel’s rebellion were overtaken by Tevinter, and their traditions melded and informed what is now contemporary Dalish culture. It is likely this calendar fell out of use during the period where Elvhenan’s survivours were slaves of Tevinter, and picked up again after they won their freedom. Names and meaning likely also changed as memories of the evanuris and their tyranny faded from memory.

[dbhtychou]

Chicago: Become Human (Teaser)

Hey guys, it’s February. Here’s a little teaser of my fanfic. Still scheduled to go up on or around Valentine’s day.

Paring: Connor x OFC Summary: A damaged RK800 “Connor” model android is repaired and repurposed to work as a bodyguard for a private foundation.

**********

Chicago: Become Human

Chapter One: Connor Repurposed

October 2037 – One year and one month until the android revolution.

The RK800 model, serial number 313 248 317-48 sat in the back of the police cruiser with detached patience. Designated “Connor” by his designers, the android was at the mercy of the officers in the front seat. He went wherever they deemed to take him. Androids were not allowed to drive. They were also not permitted to carry any sort of firearm. They were allowed to work jobs and handle people's money, or look after children without human supervision. But cars and guns, the public was not ready to trust them with such things alone.

Connor had no opinion of it either way. He was not programmed to simulate opinion, only tell facts as he saw them. He was also programmed for infinite patience, which led to many, many hours sitting in the back of police cruisers, sometimes even locked inside alone. Connor had no opinion of this either.

Instead, he idled his time by rolling a quarter over his knuckles, back and forth, over and over in a perfect ripple. He had found the coin in one of the cruisers a few weeks ago and offered it to the officer on duty. The human just looked at it as if the money wasn't worth the effort to put it in his pocket and told Connor to keep it if he liked.

Connor didn't know about liking it, but he did keep it. In those quiet hours when he was forgotten in the back of the squad car, he would pull the quarter from his pocket and fiddle with it. Flipping it up in the air was the first thing he taught himself. Then it was rolling it over his knuckles from one hand to the other. Then came more complicated tricks: spinning it on his finger tips, flicking it from one hand to the other, nearly faster than the human eye could catch. He did not know why he taught himself these tricks, he just did them.

The squad car pulled into a small neighborhood. Connor noticed young children riding their bikes and trikes in the cul-de-sac where their target destination was located. Not an adult in sight—human or android. Very irresponsible, Connor observed. As the two officers in the front opened their doors, there was clear yelling coming from the house where they parked. The car doors were shut, leaving Connor alone inside. The back doors of the cruiser did not open from the inside, as that was where perpetrators were placed. Connor was used to it.

The entire purpose of the RK800 test model was to construct a perfect program that would eventually allow Cyberlife to release an enhanced android exclusively available to police departments. Something far more advanced than the regular beat cop models they already used. The main goal was to provide quick analysis to on-site crime scenes and assist in more complicated police matters. Especially those involving other androids, which, in just the few past months, was becoming an issue that had never arisen before.  When the Detroit Police Department was given the android, however, they didn't seem to know what to do with him, which was why Connor spent so much time in the car.

He expected it to be much of the same this time, until the officer on the passenger side opened the door for him.

Officer Green was his name. “There's an android on scene. We might need extra assistance.”

“That's what I'm here for,” Connor said politely. He put the coin in his pocket as he stepped out of the car and straightened his tie. It was in his coding to always look as professional as possible. Cyberlife was trying to sell a product and it was his duty to make the product always look good.

Neighbors were gathering around the yard as the homeowner, a middle-aged woman, continued to scream hysterically in the driveway. Particularly at the the individuals that sat locked in her car. She had been frantically yanking on the door handles, screaming and swearing, and beating on the windows when the officers had pulled up.

“It's about time you got here!” The homeowner then turned her rage on the officers as they arrived. “That thing could have hurt my kids by now while you took your sweet ass time!”

Neither officer looked particularly concerned with the scene. As they tried to placate the woman about their lack of punctuality, Connor scanned the car. There were three bodies inside: two human, one android. The humans were in the back seat. Both were male, twins. Likely between the ages of five and six. They looked concerned, their hearts beating a bit faster than normal.

The android sat in the front seat of the car, hands on the steering wheel. She was an RX200: a domestic model specifically programmed for housekeeping and minding younger human children. Her face also looked stressed, her LED flickering quickly between yellow and red.

“That android could have taken off with my boys and done God knows what to them!” the homeowner continued to rant. “I called the station nearly forty minutes ago!”

“Ma'am, I assure you that is not a possibility,” Connor offered before the other officers could reply. “The RX200 model is programmed to be protective of children, not to harm them. And all Cyberlife androids have a fail-safe. Their program freezes if they attempt to drive any vehicle. The time-frame of our arrival would not have mattered. The android is incapable of driving away.”

The woman looked at him as if a lamp post suddenly started talking to her. She turned back to the officers. “Get that damn thing out of my car and away from my babies!”

Assured by Connor's words, neither officer responded as urgently as the mother. “Can you tell us why the android put the kids in the car?” asked Officer Barton, the one who had driven them to the scene.

“I have no idea. It's been glitching these past few weeks. I've been meaning to take it in for maintenance, but I haven't had the money.”

“Ma'am,” Connor offered again, “if you like, I can access the car's computer and unlock the doors.”

Suddenly he was someone worth the woman's attention. “Oh, yes please! Unlock the car!”

Connor hacked into the car's system with ease, but as he ordered the machine to unlock the doors, he was blocked by another cybernetic entity. The clash of two sent a painful feedback into his processor as a female voice screamed in his head. “GET OUT!”

Connor jerked back from the assault, his systems scrambling to block out the other android.

“What's wrong?” Officer Barton asked him.

“The other android, she's communicating with me over my radio frequency.”

“Stay out! They're safe with me!” the female android yelled in his head. Her voice was strained, static, and glitchy. “These are my children! Not hers! I raised them! I fed them! I put them to bed! My children! She can't take them away from me!”

“She thinks the children are hers. That you are trying to take them away,” Connor translated for the rest of them.

“I am trying to take them away from it! It's broken!” the mother spat. “I am their mother! I carried those boys in my body! How dare that plastic piece of--”

As the woman stalked toward the car, the engine jumped to life and everyone froze.

“She can't,” Connor insisted. “Her programming will never allow her to leave the driveway.”

The car lurched back and stopped, and lurched again, as if the driver were having physical trouble pushing down the pedal.

“Shouldn't be possible,” Connor muttered to himself.

“Stop it!” the mother screamed. “Stop it from taking my babies!”

The car lurched again as it backed out of the driveway.

“No, no, no!” Officer Barton called as the android-operated vehicle plowed its back end into the police cruiser.

With a grinding of gears, the car was forced into drive, the damaged back bumper now scraping on the ground. Connor processed the car's intended pathway instantly. The android was driving blind with panic, focusing only on fleeing. It took no notice that it was now putting other children in danger. Something that none of the Cyberlife models should have been capable of doing. They were programmed to shut down instantly if they were about to act on harming any human. And yet, here was an android driving a car and careening straight for a little girl pedaling a purple plastic tricycle.

Connor sprinted into the pathway of the fleeing vehicle. As the little girl came up fast, he dove bodily into the blacktop, shoving the small body out of the way. He saw the blunt nose of the runaway vehicle careening toward him.

He was aware of physical impact, then static.

Then nothing.

**********

Model RK800 “Connor”, serial number 313 248 317-48 was aware as he was brought online. His internal clock synced with online routers to confirm it had been two months since he had been active. Immediately, a smattering of damage reports flooded in. He felt no pain, but also could not feel his left arm. It was completely torn off. The rest of his limbs he was unable to move. He wondered if that coin was still somewhere on his person.

“Well, look, I guess it does still work,” said a female voice.

There were three humans standing in front of him. The one who spoke was Amy Witman, a technician with Cyberlife. Connor recognized her from his memory banks. She had begun working with the company two models ago. Each Connor, after the body was damaged, would have all programming, memories and data downloaded into a new body and sent back out into the field. The current Connor was eighth in the line of androids sent out in the field. After being offline for so long, no doubt the ninth Connor was already back with the police department for weeks now. Perhaps even that was damaged and now the tenth was in the back of someone's squad car.

There were two other humans with Amy: a broad, tall female with sharp features and short, dark hair, and a much larger male with a short marine-style cut and various pale scars on his face. Neither of these humans were in Connor's database.

“It's pretty hashed,” said the unknown female. “Is it even worth the effort to put it back together?”

“Yeah, the Detroit PD is pretty rough with them,” Amy agreed with a bit of irritation. “Those guys don't understand how expensive these are. They'll just take them anywhere. Several have come back with bullet holes. We do have other RK800's in storage that are brand new. Maybe you should ask about getting one of those.”

The unknown male stepped closer to Connor, eyeing his form up and down. “This is the one that jumped in front of a moving vehicle to save a kid, right? This is the one I want. And since it's all chewed up, no one's going to care if we do a little customizing when we put it back together. Maybe change that innocent little baby-face, too, while we're at it.

The unknown female took her turn to get close to Connor's face. “Nah, leave it that way. He's cute. She'll like it.”

Amy stepped forward and turned the android off. And Connor ceased to exist once more.