#if birds are not bound to the solid bottom what is the difference between water and air it seems more effort but why? what makes it harder?

[some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat]

Someone please explain empathy to me like you're explaining water to a fish

[antiques-for-geeks]

LCD Golf Games

Somebody, somewhere has to review these things?!

OK, first a little context. While my wife was in hospital waiting for the arrival of our daughter my brain desperately looked for some sort of worry release valve in the long hours between hospital visits. I did what any normal man would in this situation. I set about trying to put together the best damn collection of handheld LCD golf games the world has ever seen! They were mysterious! (nobody was interested enough to discuss them). They were plentiful! (as unwanted gifts often are). They were super cheap! (the sellers could barely give them away). Now, a couple of years later I have a happy and healthy daughter but also, crucially, a box full of assorted unplayed handheld golf games.

…and I’m going to tell you lucky people all about them!

Outside of the Nintendo’s Game and Watch series, LCD handheld games are often disregarded in the world of retro gaming. In a lot of cases this is fully justified; they lack the appealing mini-arcade aesthetic and bright colours of the larger tabletop VFD games, and there’s so much low quality landfill to be found, especially in some of the later licensed efforts from companies like Acclaim and Tiger. Let’s be honest - we only ever played them for want of something better.

Despite this I still find something fascinating about the attempt to create engaging gameplay using such limited technology. LCD games can only display their images in a series of fixed positions, so that’s a pretty severe limitation. This goes doubly for something like showing an 18 hole golf course with a variety of hazards like bunkers and lakes. Yet here are a handful of games that attempt to do just that - recreating your favourite ruined walk with what amounts to a slightly beefed up watch display.

Pro Golf 

Bandai / 1985

The first, and earliest of my collection is this effort from Bandai, a well respected and prolific handheld game maker back in the 80’s. Many of these golf games were aimed squarely at the bored executive market, and were therefore often found in plastic-leather slip cases. This one has a nice little ring bound course guide attached, filling in the details that an LCD display can’t. This is definitely the simplest of these games; your only input is to select your club and time the swing. There are no complications like shot positioning, wind direction or the camber of the green to contend with. The courses do have a selection of water hazards and bunkers to avoid. This simplicity really works in the game’s advantage, because there’s a pretty clear relation between what you think should happen and what gets shown on the screen.

All these games seem very similar when it comes to taking a shot, with a single action button. You press the button, you see your little LCD golfer take his swing, you press again (or maybe release) at the end of the up swing to select power, then again when the downswing reaches the ball for accuracy. Between this and club selection there’s enough going on to make this 100 times more engaging than what the majority of arcade style handhelds could offer at the time. It’s also worth noting that all these golf games have a two player mode where each player alternates their shot, adding to the longevity. In a twisted sort of way golf is the perfect subject for the humble handheld!

Despite this I would like to see you have tried to make me choose this over my Astro Wars tabletop back in 1985.

Summing up, there’s enough variety for this to have been a decent time waste on a long train journey (assuming you didn’t hate golf) and the graphics are nice and clear. The sound is just beeps and a crappy tune, but you can switch if off to avoid a riot in the quiet coach. A thumbs up!

World Challenge Golf 2 

Bandai / 1991

Here’s another effort from Bandai, and this one is quite a bit more involved. It’s stored in another leatherette slip case …but this time there’s a set of laminated cards provided, with the hole numbers written on each side. One end of each card has a background for the course, with the par and length to the pin, as well as a small map. The other end has the layout of the green, with some arrows showing which way it runs. Before playing each hole you slide these cards into a slot so they show behind the LCD screen, providing scenery ‘graphics’. This is exactly the kind of thing I find very cool about old tech - an ingenious solution to get around the inherent limitations of the LCD handheld. Ignore the fact that the classic Gameboy had already been released by this point and Nintendo’s Golf kicks all of these dedicated handhelds right into the gutter… using laminated cards as the background is awesome, and should be applauded.

Anyway, back to the game, you can now select shot direction, though in a very limited way. You can also see where you ball lies on the small course map, though the 3D view of the course and the swinging golfer are smaller and less detailed than the earlier game. Once you get to the green, you can see the ball position in a top-down view against the background card, and need to adjust for the camber.

Despite my admiration for the sheer ingenuity shown by this game, I have mixed feelings about it. It feels like the designers have bitten off more than they can chew. It is playable, but in trying to provide all the features of a fully fledged computer golf game it only highlights the fact that you’re not playing something better. It’s also significantly less easy to pick up and play than before.

Despite my misgivings, I like this one a lot as a collectible curiosity and it does come the closest to feeling like you’re actually in control of where the ball is going on the course. The sound is still beeps and a crappy tune which can be turned off.

Championship Golf 2

Radio Shack / Tandy / Late 1980’s?

I’ve seen various different re-branded versions of Radio Shack’s Championship Golf, but this one is a larger two screen effort, with individual buttons for club selection. No slip case this time, but it does have a built in screen protector with the course maps in a pouch on the underside. It’s less pocketable than the Bandai games but on the upside it takes AAA batteries, and it feels robust and well built. This one has 2 different 18 hole courses - apparently these are Japan and the USA. You can’t see storks dipping in ornamental koi ponds in Japan or try to nail Trump with a wayward drive in the USA, but the course layouts do change. The left screen shows a top-view of the course, while the right shows the traditional behind-the-golfer view.

You can’t select the shot direction, though your shot can wander into the rough if you mistime your button press on the down stroke. Though the golfer view is slightly lacking in detail, you’re shown exactly where your ball is on the overhead map screen, and this really adds to the playability. There is a wind indicator, but it’s only ever toward you, behind you or calm.

This is a really nice effort, with most of the simplicity of the earlier Bandai game, but with sensible additions to add some extra depth.

The sound is still beeps and a crappy tune which can be turned off.

Tournament Golf 

Radica / 1999

This Radica unit has a nice big screen, with lots of detail on the golfer and the course, though I don’t like the plasticy case much - I miss the fake leather and solidity of the earlier games! The swing button is shaped like a golf ball, and is fairly satisfying to press. There are 4 different courses to play though, which is very generous.

The representation of the golfer’s swing is the best yet here, with a large and very clear meter prominent in the bottom right of the screen. This shows power, indicates fade and draw (your shot veering left and right) and gives a power indicator for putting. This game features a really detailed wind effect, with direction and strength. The wind even changes as you wait to take your shot for extra realism. Choosing power and correcting left and right for the effect of the wind should a lot to this game, but the limitations of that LCD display spoil the effect for me. Because there’s no overhead course view it’s quite hard to reconcile what you can see on the screen with what’s happening in the game, and that really matters when you’ve got so many game variables to deal with. It’s also a pig to time a shot when you’re close to the pin without pinging out the other side.

One excellent feature of this game is the sleep mode. There’s no off button, but if you leave it alone for a minute the screen turns off, and you can pick up your game at a later time. This is perfect for gaming on the go.

I’m perhaps being unduly harsh, but this is probably my least favorite so far. Despite the clear graphics and greater complexity it lacks the charm of some of the earlier efforts.

On the up side, this one at least has a digitised swoosh when you hit the ball. You’ll still want to turn it off though…

Talking Golf Master

Systema  /1997

On to the final of our selection of games, this effort is from Systema, a well known maker of really average LCD games. This one has a plastic flip cover, with course maps and club distances on the inside. It doesn’t exactly feel premium, sharing that cheap plasticy feel with the Radica game. Worse, the action buttons are recessed little behind the cover, making it slightly awkward and uncomfortable to press them. I figure LCD game designers had given up trying to impress anyone by the mid 90’s.

The game itself is largely OK, with a very basic direction control and simple wind conditions, but the graphics are about as basic as the two screen Radio Shack game, without the benefits that the overhead course screen brought. The sound seems to be a real selling point for Systema, but it’s irritating beyond belief, with constant super loud bleeps punctuating your play. There are some sound samples; a brief compressed second of bird song or occasional encouragement from your caddy. You’re sure to love the attention you get on the bus as he waxes lyrical about how good your hole was.

You can turn it off, and you’ll want to. I’d give this one a miss.

The 19th Hole

At last we’ve come to the end of our review! Back to the clubhouse for a steak pie... I feel like a complete golf casualty now. The games can lie safely in their boxes for another few years. My daughter is sure to love LCD golf time with daddy, no?

[plutoswrath]

imum coeli//where i come from

Aries IC: Memories of wild fire and stomping feet of the father and older brother fill our heads. We don’t know where we come from, but experience everything so tragically thoroughly. Life is or was a fight for us. This dynamic relationships we care about will fade out as we build us a solid house on the top of the mountain one day. Instead of screaming our name we will ingrave it everywhere we pass by. 

Taurus IC: Carefully, mom caressed her belly as we lie inside of the womb. The first time we saw the light we screamed and our voice was like a melodic screech - paradoxic painfully beautiful. Moms arms were so warm and our house was a castle - everything what we needed has been surrounding us since then. We will work hard to get a grasp of real life soon. 

Gemini IC: Sunny, warm days - we feel the warmth of the joly spring weather on our skin. Growing up in an orphanage wasn’t bad, it was the key to another world: all our different siblings took us to another journey, we lived many different lives, that many lives that we have to express each and every word, moment and emotion when we get the chance. Dear lost siblings, the stars we reach for have your names.

Cancer IC: Smothering hugs, like the claws of a gentle giant who wants to protect you from the miseries of the world - a feeling that we will never forget. It was the moment we befriended the monsters underneath our beds and the shadows behind our mirrors; it could be oh so frightening in our dear house before we dared to touch the ground of the world outside.

Leo IC: Our father told us the funniest stories of us not drawing Superman and how he saves the day but rather ourself in the deep red cape - it was always us knowing that we were made for something better, always us feeling the kiss of Appollon in our hearts - always us knowing we should reach out for the rest of the world, compassionately, beloved ones, please, heave heart.

Virgo IC: As we look through the photos of the past we see our eyes so eagerly looking at the camera, ‘Mom, don’t do it, I look like a mess!’, we hear the voice of the 13 year old me. We look back at our tender hands and they remind us of our even more tender heart - oh, we became even softer over the years, so soft, so delightfully timid, we started appreciating the concept of chaos and order.

Libra IC: The softness of the first hand holding ours was a sensation we won’t ever forget. Sometimes, when we meet someone special it is the same feeling as back then - such a gentle and short touch, though our blood starts to rush. When we talk to you we take you in. So many beautiful facettes, so many beautiful people, kissed by gods, we really are their image. 

Scorpio IC: The first time we swam underneath the surface we lay on our backs, facing the wavy sky and our vision wasn’t blurry: It was clear. There was this tingling sensation on our skin as we didn’t know if there is something underneath us, lurking, swimming, hunting. But we didn’t care. We gladly hold life’s mysteries in our hands as we are one ourselves.

Sagittarius IC: Our eyes are colorfully bright, for each place we have seen, each soul we touched, each new planet we found in the endless universe another color was added. We thirst for freedom and we are driven by something we can’t identify - maybe our past life telling us what to do, maybe our souls purpose keeping us on track, akways on edge.

Capricorn IC: The big mansion at the end of the street was ours. It had everything, the newest kitchen equipement, a giant balcony to enjoy the sunset, a pool to cool of after stressful days and many extra rooms, rooms we wanted to fill but didn’t dare because we thought our hearts were made out of chrome. Yes this mansion was ours until we started to burn everything down.

Aquarius IC: We always have been a part of you - still, we will never fully be. There is something exciting about knowing that our universe looks different than yours, our similarities though create a bound between us, a colorful piece of ideas and unspoken desires, wishes for the you and the I - a gentle touch for the greater good.

Pisces IC: We were born underwater. Eagerly, we reached for the surface but the thin barrier of water nevee broke. So we waited on the bottom of the lake and befriended the fish and the birds which occasionally searched for food in here. Love, was the only word mother sea whispered to us as a baby. So we lived after those mere words - love, love, love.

[cursivescrawl]

Misadventure

Rating: PG Category: Elementals Summary:  It’s a wonder Feline Team is still alive, really, after a certain incident when they were a young team.

Feline once stumbled upon the edge of Kaltis.

They'd been meant to go to Sengolia's realm at the center of the web of worlds, to check that Sengolia's bonds hadn't loosened since last she'd been checked on.  Usually a team more experienced than theirs would do this.  Feline was young, then, and had only been together for half a year or so.  Flash still looked at older warriors in envy, wondering when his team would achieve the perfect synchronicity they all seemed to have.

But this had been their first time traveling alone in Kaltis.  Their first actual, real mission of import.  The only way to get to Sengolia was through the ley lines of her web.  Theoretically, it wasn't much different than traveling through the ley lines in a single world.  Practically, as Zey would always explain it later to wide-eyed apprentices, it was like shooting an arrow – where a small angle change might not matter over a distance of ten meters, it would tremendously matter over a distance of a hundred.

Distraction could be fatal, in other words.

Flash barely remembered the argument between himself and Zephyr, later, when he tried to recall details. It was useless.  Something about the plural of hippopotamus.  Lake and Jag got drawn in by the sheer ridiculousness of the topic.  There was a fierce sense of elation, Flash remembers, arguing with his team, being on a solo mission, flying alone (the sensation of strong wings pumping even though he didn't have wings, the swirling Aethir around him) through the ley lines and towards his team.

They must have gotten turned around. When they emerged from the web, the sky overhead wasn't garish yellow, ribbons of chaotic light fighting for dominance.  The ground wasn't pulsing black sand with random many-colored silk cocoons rising at odd intervals, each containing a near-born monster.

The argument – silly as it had been – died in the still air.  Feline Team stood staring.

Before them stretched a white plain covered with perfect uniform ice.  The sky overhead gleamed the dully colorless sepia of a long-faded photograph, unbroken by stars or clouds.  Though there was no light source, there were no shadows either.  It seemed lit by the kind of fluorescent light which leaves no shadows and a roaring headache.

Perfect snowflakes glimmered in midair.  Unfalling.  Unfailing.  Suspended, as if in clear plastic, the way a trinket might be suspended in a soap.

“Father's wrath,” breathed Flash.

Jag reached for Lake's arm.  “We shouldn't be here.”

“We shouldn't,” Jag agreed.

None of them moved.  It felt impossible.  This land was perfect, untouched, eerie.  Static in all the ways Sengolia was dynamic.

Zephyr seized that thought.  The opposite of Sengolia.  Could this be the farthest point in Kaltis from her ever-shifting cocoon?

He sucked in a breath, disturbing a single snowflake from its everlasting position.

“Static,” he said aloud.

The name fell like glass and shattered the silence.

A howling dread filled Flash, filled his teammates.  He couldn't move.  The landscape didn't change,but suddenly someone-

a trio of someones-

were watching them, malevolent, wanting these Elemental intruders out of/absorbed into their domain. Flash couldn't see them.  But they were there.  Their eyes pierced him.  If he could only turn around, he could see their faces, see the clawed hands reaching for him.

Lake's knees buckled.  He caught himself on Flash with a convulsive movement; Flash automatically raised his arm to loop it around Lake's shoulders.  But his arm didn't move.  And Jag was already there (or was he?  It was hard to tell in this blizzard, or was there a blizzard? There wasn't a blizzard.  Everything was just as perfectly still as it always had been would be was).

Jag's urgency slashed them, urgency turning to panic turning to adrenaline in Flash's veins, determination and wakefulness shattering Flash's heart back to life.

(And it had stopped without him realizing, and when it began to pound, it was abnormally loud in the silent howl.)

“WE NEED TO GO!”

The words might have been shouted, spoken, whispered, thought.  Flash's throat was hoarse.  The still air felt like daggers in his lungs, like plastic over his nose and mouth, stale, deadly, suffocating.

He desperately clawed for the ley lines. But they weren't there.  The comforting, warm, purifying Aethir was out of his reach, the magic of his heritage dead at his fingertips.  Dread filled Flash's ears and lungs and settled leaden in the pit of his stomach.

“I'll pull you!”  Zephyr vanished.  Lake almost crumpled again; Flash yanked him upright, tugged him close, felt his teammate's ragged breathing as Lake buried his head in the shoulder of Flash's black cloak.

Jag was on one knee.

“We do not kneel,” Flash forced out through numb lips.  The words carried some emotion he couldn't identify.  Jag gritted his teeth.

(And Flash didn't feel the frustration, he realized, didn't know what Jag wanted or was trying to say.  The connection, the contract, the thing that made them Feline Team, was-)

Zephyr was there.  Zephyr's power and magic was binding and revitalizing, carrying with it the sense of Sengolia and chaos.  Lake took another shuddering deep breath.

“Go,” hissed Flash.  Lake vanished from his arms.  Flash felt suddenly cold without his teammate pressed against him.  Lake slipped from Flash's mind like water from a child's cupped hand, and then he was gone.

Flash stumbled over to Jag.  Every movement seemed to be fought through syrup, through half-solid wax. He couldn't feel Zephyr or Lake.  Couldn't feel his fingers. Couldn't feel his heartbeat anymore, it was a cold dead sensation in his chest, and he shuddered.

Then he was tumbling backwards.

He landed squarely on his butt in warm black sand, and it was coarse under his fingers, and his heart pounded in his ears and he drew a shuddering, gasping breath.  And another.  And another.  It hurt, his ribs hurt, but the air was sweet despite the taste of sulfur and-

“Help me pull,” snapped Zephyr, his wings straining with effort.  Flash reached for Jag.

He seemed so close.  But then Flash's outstretched mind hit a wall, like a bird who realizes a sliding glass door isn't open.

Jag's mind moved sluggishly.  Where normally thoughts fired quickly and in all directions, now he only had one thought, one sensation.  Flash threw himself at the glass door, panic closing his throat-

and it shattered and Jag was there and he was lying across Flash's lap and drawing in heaving breaths and choking on nothing and clawing at the sand until he realized it was sand.  Their minds pressed in on each other's. Lake crumpled beside Flash and Jag, resting his head unashamedly on the small of Jag's back; Zephyr, wings still extended, collapsed with one great bronze wing draping over his teammates.

They breathed.

Sengolia's screeches and cries sounded around them.  Somewhere in the distance a monster ripped from its cocoon with a rending of silk and a newborn scream.  Above, the sky danced with color and chaos.  The earth itself seemed to pulse with irregular spasms.

Slowly, Flash's heart calmed.  He felt his teammates – felt the black sand beneath Jag's fingernails, the way Zephyr couldn't quite bring himself to dismiss his wings back into air.  Lake's exhaustion and his depleted reserves of magic. Zephyr gave energy to Lake, and Flash realized the leaden exhaustion in his own limbs and drew from Jag until they were all equalized again.

The sensation, thought Zephyr drowsily, now that they were all calm enough to think.  He replaced his guarding wing with one strong arm draped over his teammates as he flopped closer.  Flash heard his heart steadily drumming in his chest.  In sync.  What was that sensation, that thing Jag had been focused on while they tried to rescue him.

Jag wearily opened his eyes and cleared his throat.

“Ocelot.”

His team name.  The name of his totem.  Flash saw Jag drawing a small stone-carved ocelot from his cloak, setting it down on the ice, focusing on it to stave off the numbness.

“Clever.”

He wasn't sure if it was him or Lake that spoke.  It didn't matter.  Here, in the outskirts of Sengolia's realm, everyone could speak and it wouldn't matter.

“I know.”

Zephyr huffed a laugh.  Jag's amusement jolted them all back to wakefulness, even Jag, who seemed a bit startled by his own emotion – was it okay to be amused after that?

“We should go,” said Flash.

“Yeah,” said Lake, and he was the first one to stagger to his feet.  Flash was the last simply because he was on the bottom of the Feline pile.  “You all- ready?”

They weren't.  But they were prepared, and, weapons drawn, they entered Sengolia's realm.

It took eight hours to reach her. She was wrapped in colorful silk strands with each filament a different shade and trapped in solid chains of some peculiar metal which might have been steel once but which now gleamed with the solid enchantments of the Elementals (bright red, deep blue, pale yellow, straight green).  The cocoon was steady.  If they'd had to fight their way back to the edge of her realm, Flash might have just given up right there; as it was, the center of Sengolia's realm was also where the ley lines were the strongest.  Magic couldn't even be used near her for the chance it might go wild.  So after checking on Sengolia, Flash closed his eyes and let the Aethir sweep him away from her giant dangerous shrieking form, let it get him very close to their world before taking over again and making an effort to get back to the Fire base.

He did not give the report that night.  Lake did, but he fell asleep in the middle and it ended up being Flash to give the report anyways the next morning, reassuring the senior warriors that Sengolia was still bound.

They did not mention the edge of Kaltis.  If it was known they'd traveled there, and come back alive- well.  Lake found no records that anyone else had accomplished that. This near-deadly accident was not something Feline, as a whole, wanted to be known for.  So they kept quiet even when Jen of Astral Team joked with Flash about how he hadn't looked this tired since that one all-nighter where all the Fire apprentices tried (and failed) to get drunk.

They did not mention the dreams, after that, of standing in that horrible landscape (alone).  Each of them had a different version.  Zephyr felt a malevolent gaze, but no matter which way he turned, he only caught the ghost of blue inhuman eyes.  Lake turned to ice, his every blood cell slowly freezing and becoming one with the stillness, until he shattered into a million tiny snowflakes and hung motionless in the air for the rest of eternity.  Jag was covered in snow and ice and forgotten, left to scream silently for some unknown period of time.  And Flash always heard the same soundless chant, the same tuneless song, with eight words he could make out and hundreds more he could not.

I  C O M E  A L I V E  A T  T H E  E N D  O F  T I M E

It was a blessing, really, that it was acceptable for them (as a Nighttime team) to sleep during the day and be awake at night.  They had trained in the night.  It was familiar to them.  There was no reminiscing when they were busy in the dark hours, and in the daylight hours, it was well-lit enough that the nightmares and the eerie landscape always seemed so far away – until they went to sleep.

It took time, but the dreams faded into memory.  That fear was replaced by others.  The entire experience became one of many near-death calls, something that they all became quite familiar with as they rose to be the Hunters and then the Holder's Seconds, answering only to Astral Team (and then not even to them, because how can you answer to someone who remains in a coma?)  The day came when Flash didn't think about it; the year came when none of them thought about it; and life went on.

But the little black ocelot carving, the one Jag had focused on to keep his sanity, remained in a snarling pounce at the edge of Kaltis.

[ruleandruinrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, CHARLOTTE!

You have been accepted for the role of ARINA ZAHKAROV with a faceclaim change to Eleanor Tomlinson. Admin Em: Charlotte, with each layer expanded upon in your application, it became clear you understood Arina perfectly. My heart fluttered at your para samples - you nailed her voice, her innate confidence that could be misconstrued as cockiness but is actually self-awareness, her complete disinterest in anything but the morbid, and perfectly described how, so far, she has been untested in her morality. But most importantly, you nailed her innocent, almost child-like fascination with death and all its tenets, describing her as beautifully as she would describe dying. I can’t wait to see Arina on the dash! You have 24 HOURS to send in your account. Also, remember to look at the CHECKLIST. Welcome to Ravka!

OUT OF CHARACTER

ALIAS: Charlotte

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: She, her.

AGE: Twenty two

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: GMT. In regards to my activity, I’d say that I’m a solid 6. I like to spend as much time as humanly possible rp’ing, but I do have a full time job and sometimes a social life. I can dedicate a couple of hours each evening, but I can be a more constant presence when I’ve got a day off work.

CURRENT/PAST ACCOUNTS: Calista, Fallon

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER: Arina Zahkarov

Little doves decorated the nursery, which housed the flame-haired girl, a child Liliya and Anatole Zahkarov had longed for - the fruit of their long enduring love. Named for soft contentment, the line between boredom and excitement, an expression of happiness that could be found in the most gentle of natures. Her name was pocketed by her mother many years before, when Liliya had held dreams of having a daughter to walk in the shadows of her own footsteps, cut from the very cloth her mother swathed her own body in. But despite the restful state of her name, Arina’s mind has always been anything but peaceful. Others have often gazed at her so strangely. Perhaps they wondered how someone so odd, could come from a line so poised and admired. It’s true that whilst her entire existence caused uproar within her home, tranquility was found within her very soul, so she was not named poorly. Curled up by the fire, books splayed over her lap, that was her gentle solitude.  The mind housed within her body has always been curious, people using the word inquisitive as an insult thrown towards her - how blind they are.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?

To say that there were an abundance of characters I gained muse for would be an understatement, the broad spectrum of personalities and plotlines made it difficult to choose the one. However, there was something about Arina that just kept tugging me back to her biography. For me, she’s a challenge, purely because she’s not feather light in her softness or drenched in the blood of her enemies, two tropes that I have an affinity for. Her oddball nature is beguiling, and I was certainly looking to break out of my comfort zone. I felt Arina was striking in the sense that I admired her curiosity and disinterest in worldly goods, but that is just a smidgen, or speck of who she is as a person. Her reliance has always come from intelligence, and resources surrounding her. She’s passionate, but not in a quintessential way. For someone steeped in life, the very core of her soul alight with passion and vibrancy, she found interest in something which tore away life from another. I see her restlessness which comes from mundane living, the desperation to constantly learn and uncover. There’s an innocence in her passion, her interest in the subject vibrant and her excitement for it untamed, and Altan’s offer was like giving her the cookie jar. You could say that her devotion to her interests is what drives me to apply for her, there’s something incredibly endearing about her.

WHAT FUTURE PLOT IDEAS DID YOU HAVE IN MIND?

ONE - Knowledge is power, it’s a motto that Arina has lived her life by. Malevolence is not in her bones, but curiosity certainly is. There’s a fine line between science and cruelty, at least where she is concerned. Her fascination with the way in which poison attacks the body, has driven her to accept an offer that she never thought possible. Never satisfied by the answers she’s gained, Arina has a lust for more information and that drives her every day living. Materialistic items may not have made her greedy, but information certainly has.  Thus far, this has all been a positive journey for Arina, and she’s never had to question her own morals in her process of discovery. Someone could very easily ask her to poison someone, not for the purpose of science, but as a means to an end. I want to see the other side of Arina’s choices, the reaction to every action. Perhaps her curiosity of poisons takes her to a new line she never thought she’d cross, and then from there it’s whether she will continue to fall down the rabbit hole. Afterall, it’s a slippery slope.

TWO - Self indulgences and the pleasures of the world have never been a desire of her’s, material items considered frivolous and the company of others only pleasant when stories, facts and resources are provided from the other. Relationships have always been a difficult task for Arina to manage, from the connection she had with her parents to even making friends. The world has viewed her as odd, and she in response  viewed it as a nuisance. I’d like to push Arina out of her comfort zone, more than it’s already been tested. Shona is a representation of her attempts to have some sort of connection with another person, but I’d like to see her in a setting where she’s forced to find kinship in someone she would not have expected.

THREE -  Arina has for a long time felt confident that she is best served where she is, studying as she does. Her interests have been unwavering since she discovered them, and her abandonment of them would certainly not be willing. At some point, I would like to see her needing to set aside her own passion for something deemed a necessity, that does not cater to her wants.  With poisons and knowledge, Arina feels comfortable and that’s where any confidence or wit is found, because her years of learning have provide her with the ammunition to have a strong view on her worth. What if she were moved from the Little Palace, to the unknown, where her studies are not as they are now.

WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO HAVE YOUR CHARACTER DIE?: Maybe. Aside from illness or a long life lived, I cannot imagine Arina dying. With some characters, those broken birds or bold beings thinking themselves god’s instead of men, I can see it. For me, Arina has a lot more to discover and uncover. I suppose it would very much depend on the situation because right now I can’t imagine  a scenario in which I would find it fitting for her to die.  I mean, I’m saying this, but if Arina would to ironically die by poison, I’d be down with that.

IN DEPTH

IN CHARACTER PARA SAMPLE(S):

Triggers: blood, death, needles.

ONE

Water droplets fell in rhythm, a continuous tempo vibrating around the room, which seemed to echo every noise that fell into the void of silence, and came out louder and bolder.  Puddles splashed beneath her feet, licking the bottom of her Kefta as she descended down the stairs. Her fingers wrapped together, anticipation caused a bundle of nerves to flutter in the depth of her stomach. In all her dreams, she had never expected something so exciting to present itself as a viable opportunity. Taking chances did not come naturally to her, but she leapt forth and clasped with both hands, not allowing it to pass her by. There was something dark and dismal about the place, setting a melancholic aura over the room. In spite of this darkness, she felt a lightness to her movements.

Clearing her throat, she tucked the book closer to her chest, all her findings scrawled on the pages. She heard screams far off, which sent a string of chills down her back. Hairs stood on the back of her neck, but she did not allow her nerve to be lost. Whether she aided them or not, the fate of those she would work on had already been decided.The archway which led to the line of benches, presented a haunting sight - but she would never turn and flee. Her interests were particular, her passion deeply embedded within the talent that she’d collected. Poisons were her calling, and live test subjects were an unknown dream.

Stepping down, she walked with purpose over to where Altan stood. A concoction of potions had already been mixed, each one labelled differently. She wondered how it would affect the blood, the different organs of the body. When pouring snake venom into a dish of blood, she’d watched with fascination as it solidified before her eyes. Attacking the body with something so subtle was an art, beautiful, captivating and utterly beguiling. A wash of poison across the lips was enough to starve a man of  his life, taking away their last breaths before they even realised it had been planned.

Placing down her books on one of the benches, her head turned towards the subject, remorse void from her eyes. It was not as though she were taking the life of someone valued, someone worthy of redemption - each one was a criminal, bound to a death sentence. Not all poisons would be quick, not all would be painless, but that was the purpose of her tests. A discovery unlike any other, and she would be the one to uncover the secrets - that was her prize in life. Some could writhe in the fabrics of their riches, decorating their bodies with a thousand jewels, but it would be her who found a fulfilled life.

“Are you ready?” The voice of the Corporalki asked, looking at her with a sternness. Intimidation did not rise, for she merely pulled out a vial, trying to suppress the smile of excitement. To others it might have seemed foolish, but the rewards and self gratification which came from such tests  would give her fulfillment, she hoped. Arina did not know whether it would be enough to keep her entertained for the rest of her life, but the wealth of knowledge which had yet to be discovered, certainly would.

“Absolutely.” A haze of focus fell over her features, replacing girlhood with a professional and methodical outlook on the situation.

First, she set about examining the body that she would be giving poison to, ignoring the hushed pleas of the man who waiting for his lethal dosage. It was important for her to know the physical state of her test subject, in order to then fully assess the damage.

“Damn you.” The man spat with rancour, fingers twisting into fits.

Sometimes monsters must fight monsters. The thought was disregarded easily, she refused to go back to the moral line that she was crossing, for it was for the importance of science that she agreed.

No soft words left her mouth as she gazed at him, before then turning to her wooden box of glass vials. Each one shone in different hues, some completely transparent whilst others glistened in hues of red and gold. Her most lethal, reserved for a later date, was the colour of sparkling sapphires - certainly her favourite and most deadly.

“I’m glad you agreed to do this, Arina,” Darkness appeared to like the taste of Altan, for he too walked with a venomous gaze and sinister intent.  She rolled her shoulders, cracking her neck from side to side as her slender fingers plucked one from the box.

“It is well suited to my interests. You made a smart choice in me,” she responded with confidence, taking a moment to note down the details of the poison. Her notes would be a tool to refer to, when exploiting the various avenues which she’d descended, in order to achieve such results. Theory was surpassed by the practical approach.

Slowly dragging back the plunger of the needle, the contents of the vial were sucked up into the vessel. Focus stretched over her features, her brows knit together as she took a deep breath, before releasing it with a long sigh.

Injecting the poison into the man’s vein, she paid no mind to the patient’s attempt to shy away from her touch. It was only once every last drop was removed from the tube, that she then discarded the equipment and moved to collect her notebook once more. Everything needed to be recorded, each sign meticulously noted down, not a symptom missed. Her path to understanding death was just beginning.

TWO

Crumbs were brushed from her lips, powdered sugar leaving its trace across porcelain skin. If having a constant immaculate appearance was at the forefront of her mind, her own reflection would have been studied in the looking-glass. But instead, her head remained bent over the pages, fingers tracing dried ink, which embossed the once clean parchment. Words bled together, and despite the late hour, she could not staunch her fascination enough to retire to bed. Burning the midnight oil, heat pressed to her cheeks as she devoured the knowledge, wild flaming locks tumbling over her shoulder in a haphazard fashion. Aches formed in the shell of her neck, protesting from her need to bend over the desk for hours with no respite.

The clearing of a throat did not curb her interest in the pages. In fact, she simply leaned closer in an attempt to block out the blurring of people who brushed past her. Her interests meant very little to them, but she did not feel disheartened by it - she never had. Even as a child, when she’d shown more of an interest in literature than the soft sway of dance, and the dalliances of men hoping to catch her eye, the sneers others pressed to their tongues never once caused a tear to fall. She did not think them cruel, but ignorant instead. Her differences made her special, the encouragement fell heartily from her father’s mouth on many occasions when he’d heard the jibes of others - it affected him, more than it did her. It was not as though she’d ever seen fit to care about what others thought of her.

“Have you not given enough of yourself to those documents for one day?”

Despite the reluctance of her heart, she turned to face the intruder - for there could be no better word to describe them. Whilst the space itself was open to anyone who wished to wander through, she loathed being disturbed, unless she could pluck the mind of he who entered.  Wiping her hands down the purple fabric which encase her body, she lifted an expectant eyebrow.  Whilst she was not limited to two states, there was a clear divide in her nature depending on the situation. Either reserved and light in tone, or enthused with the passion for the subject, you could see whether Arina thought the conversation was truly worth her time, simply by the expression which painted her features - It was too often boredom.

“If I believed that, I would not be here,” she sighed, turning back to the documents. The listing of ingredients was intricate, like the skill she desired to master. Beautiful and deadly, her fascination for poisons spread like a virus, attacking each of her cells until she lived in hunger for the knowledge.

A melodic hum vibrated against her swell of her lips, attempting to ignore the figure, who seemed persistent in their decision to linger where they were not wanted.

“Is there something I can help you with?” She placed her fingers against the desk, agitation growing up the length of her spine. Time was better spent in other ways, and why waste it on the irksome task of meaningless conversation when her mind could be put to better use. Boldness licked the bottom of her lips, a lion creeping from the shadows to force another comment to leave her mouth, without full permission of her own mind. “Shouldn’t you be eating food and combing your hair, or doing any of the other mundane things that humans do?”

She caught sight of the arch of their eyebrow increasing, perhaps surprise had assaulted them. An intelligent mind was wrapped up in her head, a solitary voice barely used outside of the walls of The Little Palace. It was a sanctuary, her very own haven in which to learn and discover, she was not one for provoking the humans, even if she thought them uppity. Her parents were just the same, floating about with their wealth and prominence, her mother’s laughter carrying down the halls as she turned her nose up at those lesser. How cruel for her, that her own daughter should be labelled just the same.

“And I thought you were supposed to be intelligent.” Their name was known to her, since she’d been force fed the titles of those closest to the crown, and the inner circle titled as the nobility of court. Had she not been born with such gifts, Arina might have been forced to attend court - an arduous task.

Leaning against the dark wood, arms folded over her chest,she watched with minimal interest as Arisha walked forward, too boldly invading the space which Arina had titled her sanctuary. “That intelligence comes from books and parchments, which I’m trying to read,” she murmured under her breath,  curbing the need to roll her eyes in response. Who were they to her, really? Arisha was no master of small science, any source of intelligence had come from classic studies, and not those which seemed other worldly.

Witch was a friendlier term, when faced with many snide remarks growing up, not that her body had frequented the outdoors an awful lot to hear such slander. The closed, dogmatic views of those stuck in their old beliefs would never harm her, but that did not mean that she wanted anyone capable of such poison, anywhere near her.

“What are those that you’re reading?” A hint of curiosity laced the threads of Arisha’s voice, almost similar to the tones that caressed Arina’s own, when picking Adrik’s mind. There was nothing wrong in another being curious about her field of study, for it was a fundamental trait of her own self, but she felt mistrust over a human and the sincerity of their actions.

She did not answer the courtier, instead moving back to glance over the pages. In truth, the presence of another had disturbed the flow which she’d found, and tiredness had begun to fall over her. Whilst keen of mind, she was certainly not invincible.

Incensed by the lack of response, Arisha pushed forward to stand beside her - dark eyes bearing down on the mass of fiery waves that clung to the back of her head.

Pulling the parchments into a neat pile, lips set in a straight line, she continued to ignore Arisha, hoping that they would simply grow bored of trying and leave.

“I asked you a question.”

“And I decided not to answer,” she retorted, words clipped at the end. If she admired the persistance of them, no admittance would leave her tongue.

CHARACTER HEADCANONS:

ONE - Celebrations have never appealed to her, the significant one being her birthday. When she was young, her mother had made a grand affair of the occasion, her father sweeping her up onto his shoulder. It was the time when she’d worn pretty white dresses, with silk bows in her hair and been offered pastries and gifts until her hearts content. But it would not be long before she slipped away, even as a toddler, disinterested in the attention and frivolity of parties. After a certain age, Arina demanded that any mention of her birthday be ceased. It was not that she loathed growing older, but more that she did not care for the fanfare of the occasion. Her age would be marked down, but she refused to have a single well wisher utter words of ‘Happy Birthday’ to her. It became easier after she left her parents, for no one was interested in making the effort for her - much to her relief. Arina liked to be left to her own devices, in peace.

TWO - Despite her admiration for death and science, she does have a fondness for things that grow and the simplicity of animals in the wild. Perhaps because she too felt wild, free from the pressures of society that wished to act a certain way, when she declared that it would not be the case. With something of a green finger, Arina was the one to tend to the gardens surrounding her house and to admire the rabbits that frequented in a particular patch of land at the back. Others turned their nose up, calling them vermin and cackling at the thought of their demise. She admires the softness of such creates, comparing her own heart to theirs.

THREE - Being born into a human family has meant many changes came about when she was discovered, The biggest was her being uprooted from her family, although Arina felt certain that her parents would feel the loss more than she would, since she’d always felt like the outcast of the family. For many years she was their only child, and it made it harder to avoid their need for affection that she wanted to push away. It wasn’t that she was completely void of human emotion, or incapable or love…quite the contrary, but they didn’t understand her and therefore, she felt as though they never really knew her. She was grateful when her brother was born, completely human and capable of living up to their hopes, he was the prized child that they’d hoped for in her.

FOUR - Since childhood, Arina has gazed up at the stars with wonder, a vivid imagination creating stories in the constellations.  If the stars gazed back, what did they see? Years and years of history in the making, the study of death as she is now doing it. Even now, Arina loves to take her books outside and lie with the stars above her, and the grass below her - finding it comfier than the bed provided for her.

FIVE - After leaving her own family, Arina never considered having a family of her own. Given her choice of lifestyle, she could not imagine a world in which she would be forced to play wife and mother, not that she has time for such things. But even so, there is very little intention to fall in love, since she loves her books instead. It may stem from others perceptions of her, since they saw her as an odd-ball and not a beauty, but she’s not shallow enough to let it concern her.  Arina has always been more concerned with the unknown, and the questions that needs answers, than any form of romantic or physical attraction. She knows that the latter would not come without romance, but she has very little time for that . Arina is content with her virtue, she quite likes that there is a part of her which is still innocent.

EXTRAS:

Mockblock ( x )

Morality Alignment : Chaotic good. A chaotic good character acts as his conscience directs him with little regard for what others expect of him. He makes his own way, but he’s kind and benevolent. He believes in goodness and right but has little use for laws and regulations. He hates it when people try to intimidate others and tell them what to do. He follows his own moral compass, which, although good, may not agree with that of society.

MBTI Type: INTJ. Have original minds and great drive for implementing their ideas and achieving their goals. Quickly see patterns in external events and develop long-range explanatory perspectives. When committed, organize a job and carry it through. Skeptical and independent, have high standards of competence and performance - for themselves and others.

Westeros House: House Arryn. The Arryns have often been men and women of true worth, both wise and honest. The house has given birth to gallant knights and beautiful women, all of whom could be relied upon to take their responsibilities to the Vale very seriously. Unlike many other nobles south of the Neck, the Arryns carry themselves with little ostentation.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Can I please request a faceclaim change to Eleanor Tomlinson?

Thank you for reading my application. I certainly admire this rp, and will continue to do so, even if it’s from a far. I wish you the best of luck, and hope that it will flourish.

Choosing a favourite book is extremely hard! Can I be really cliche and say Gone Girl? That one gripped me from start to finish, but I’ve got a list longer than my arm of books that I love.

[dansnaturepictures]

Photos on my landscape and other outdoor subjects calendar for 2022: Covers and January-May with some thought about each picture

In my posts yesterday introducing my photos on my 2022 wildlife calendar I did a quite longer preamble about what my calendars are and why I do them etc. so that can be found in yesterday’s posts. But just to say briefly that in this post and my next one in half an hour I shall have my photos taken between May 2020 and May 2021 which I have chosen to go on my landscape and other outdoor calendar for next year, one of two calendars I make for my bedroom wall each year and get as my Christmas present. Any photos taken from May 2021 onwards go into contention to be on my 2023 landscape calendar now so it’s a cycle I follow as I explained yesterday. For my landscape calendar I set myself rules to say that at least five pictures had to have been taken in 2020 after May, at least five taken in 2021 so far, at least one must be a sky dominated photo and at least one must be a photo from my what I call minority subjects, so things that aren’t really wildlife or landscape my main two photographic subjects but are outdoors/natural  In this post and the next one are the photos chosen and a little bit I wanted to say about each, there will also be a post in an hour with ten reserve photos which shall be printed on day boxes on the bottom half of the calendar. The photos appearing in the order they will on the calendar with the cover collage photos first and captions below in order of appearance

Cover collage photo 1: View at Martin Down taken in April 2021

This was one of two late arrivals onto the calendar, taken the week prior to me finalising the line up. This is a picture I found strong taken with my new lens which I’ve been so impressed with this year, it was a standout picture in a very packed and sunny week off with so many landscapes. I really liked this one and found it helped to serve as a strong memory of very happy spring day where I saw lots of butterflies and birds and flowers too and it was a key moment of my spring so when a photo does this its important for me. This is not the only Martin Down picture making my 2022 calendars a butterfly made my wildlife and is on the cover collage too as explored yesterday and not the first Martin Down landscape to make it over the years. With me working from home the last year or so and being out in nature with the camera every day one key theme for me has been the colours of the landscape and noticing the subtle and bigger chances etc as the seasons develop. Between the day boxes and ones actually on the months for this calendar I wanted to represent as much of these colours as possible, such as bareness in trees, autumnal leaves, blossom as well as that addictive light shade of green that the trees go in spring particularly April so this one tickled this box perfectly with that lovely colour forming much of the picture so that definitely helped this one get on. What I had overlooked was that it gets beautiful blossom as well as flowering gorse in too which is great two more key colour in the landscape bits I’ve noticed this year a lot.

Cover collage photo 2: Rainbow at Lakeside Country Park, Hampshire in January 2021

Like the getting the colours of the landscape in, a calendar made of my photos from May 2020 until May 2021 just had to have a rainbow in it. Firstly because of what it came to mean with honouring our amazing NHS heroes and key workers during this gruelling pandemic and how the nation memorably came together especially last spring to do that. But secondly because of the amount I’ve taken over that period and a few were candidates. This one came out on top because I’ve featured rainbows on my calendars a fair bit in the past but this one seemed a bit different. There’s some simplicity about it with it shining out that drizzly lunch time walk whilst working at home against the bare trees as I said above one of my key stages of the year and something I did find some beauty within over winter whilst one would maybe always prefer trees in full leaf an optimistic time of year and the bare trees have become quite a feature of this calendar I think with how everything came to be. The rainbow against the bare tree is a nice contrast and this one stuck in my mind well and I felt it suited the calendar.

January: View down the River Itchen of Cobdem bridge, Southampton, Hampshire taken on my birthday this January

This photo underlines the amazing start my new general lens had which I got for my birthday, taken on day 1 of it and reaching the calendar. I am pleased with this one and it sums up the quality I am so happy this lens delivers. I like how this one portrays that nice sweet moody and creamy winter’s light as the sun just started to poke through on that busy birthday walk of birds and photos which is something I love to appreciate. With the calendar photos I have my calendars for 2021 sat beside me as I write this some of the photos I just see on the box straight away in my mind others I sort of wonder how it will come out and I’m sure this will be good but I am intrigued to see it printed I think it may look different to any I’ve had before. It’s the second successive calendar of mine for landscapes to have a River Itchen shot on too with a sunny springtime at the river near Bishopstoke so a different part taken April 2020 making my 2021 one.

February: Icy view at Lakeside taken in February 2021

I found with the working from home days this site right next to our house dominated the calendar choosing somewhat and it was obvious because I visit there five days a week typically vs the two days for other locations other than time off so pictures here and at home do outnumber everything else a bit. Going back to the third strict lockdown and the start of the year with my new lens obviously my main landscape opportunities to get to know it and everything it was brought mainly for landscapes were so local and especially Lakeside and a sunny day was rarer over winter so when they came quite often on Fridays actually on my lunch time walk and at home I had explosions of amounts of photos taken when I brought this lens and few of the pictures emerged as ones I really liked so could be calendar bound and I got a lot of these sunny Lakeside views together to compare and one did make a day box from later on but this one stood out to me as the best. I wanted something to mark that day and that week which was one of my weeks of the year for the volume of wildlife seen and photos taken on lunch time Lakeside walks anyway, as the lakes froze for the first time in years so for a few days with snow falling a bit in the days preceeding I took in one of the key events of the year for me as it was just such a beautiful and notable scene of winter. This one on that fantastic Friday to close the week perfectly marked this moment so well I think I think it shows the ice on the lake well both the solid structure and the broken off bits, but also the bits that were unfrozen which added to the pure beauty of what I was seeing landscape wise in this urban area those few days. The sun obviously helps make it too but also you have the Coots on the ice which was a key aspect of what I saw those few days both with my eyes and through my camera was birds on the ice which looked wonderful so it was great to include that on a calendar.

March: Looking into Portsmouth, Hampshire from Farlington Marshes taken in October 2020

This was definitely a key photo of 2020 for me, I really love it for the sky scene that is pictured but also I think adding to the drama of the photo so well is the towers and sights of the city like the Spinnaker and the area of water shown too in an almost silhouette and shadowy form for the buildings. This city skyline scene was a dark horse for me in both my 2020 end of year photo tweets and the calendar choosing I was really happy with what it’s doing once I was really thinking about this hidden gem and I just think again it will be an interesting one to see printed. It was taken on one of my best ever days for sky scenes in a really autumnal stormy time at Farlington but I don’t think there’s any photos I’ve ever taken quite like this. I’ve photographed the Spinnaker Tower so many times one of my favourite landmarks in one of the local cities I like but never quite in this way so that was great.

April: Sun shining through trees at Magdalen Hill near Winchester in Hampshire, taken in February 2021

Another really key theme for my photos so far this year has been the amount of sun through trees pictures I have taken. I remember especially in the late winter having so many to compare to each other and this one I found the best in the sunniest possible end to February a key theme so far this year of the months seeming to get really sunny towards the end. This photo also is from a very happy and very hopeful for spring day where I saw amazing wildlife. For me this is a timeless picture I seemed to have pictures taken in months concentrating at different points of the year for the calendar. I try to where I can give a photo the month it was taken in for the calendar but February for example I had two taken in that month and I felt the ice would look good on a winter month. But this one I felt it was okay to put a bit later in the year as that sun which makes the photo and makes the scene attractive for me is going to be something to hope for and celebrate in an April too.

May: Sky at Lakeside taken in November 2020

This is one of the most prominent sky scenes I’ve ever seen which I loved taking in on another very memorable Lakeside lunch time walk last autumn. It was simply breathtaking and I just knew I had to capture it and I loved doing that. It was a testament to putting the camera on live view something I’ve done since the middle of last decade and how it allows you to shoot straight at that. I just love the firmness of the clouds then the sunrays shining gloriously upwards. The Black-headed Gull flying into shot at the right time really satisfies me. As with landscapes for me and I’ve heard others say before you’ve got to have that extra bit of spark of something sometimes that is within the landscape to draw an eye or maybe contextualise it as I think this one does and I think this works well. I feel I have that extra little bit quite often a bird in a lot of these photos. The sharp photo feels like one of my all time sky bests and it had to be on the calendar.

In half an hour is the rest of the calendar in a post.

[jeff3]

Haiku Birthday

J.D. Hayes-Canell

The girl with eyes akimbo

keeps her face aimed at the floor

Pigeon toed on knocking knees

she crab walks towards the door

2/19/95

The Party’s Over

Pumpkins smashed upside down in a ditch

X-mas trees brown at the end of driveways

Dried turkey skeletons for everyone.

Eggshells dyed in the trash

Crumpled valentines skitter in the wet wind

Past the charred firecracker corpses and sparklers black and barren.

Everyone has gone home

there’s the trash to take out.

3/8/95

Ethereal Espresso

I live vicariously as you, in sweat and heterosex.

Beat ghosts lie upon the pages snapping phantom fingers

chanting “Cool, cool”.

They sip ethereal espresso and groove jazz

while you and Kerouak trade lies in a duel

like sex.

12/23/94

Reptile Season

It’s the night, x-mas time.

The city sheds it drab grey skin 

and breaks out in livid spots.

12/25/94

Warm wind caressing

Brings the scent of coming rain

Robins herald Spring. 

201203.07

HAIKU BIRTHDAY

You wake, stretch and yawn

So today is your birthday

Different but the same. 

201203.07

I write without ink on no paper 

I read a book with no pages

I call on a phone with no dial, no buttons. 

What is reality?

3/20/12

Blossom scented breeze

New green of young grass growing

My backyard in Spring. 

4/18/12

Words. Nothing but words

Convey all meaning, mine, yours,

A haiku birthday. 

4/18/12

For Marie, Patricia, Seth and Marci

This spring has come with no green. 

It is barren dust and somber ash watered by a harsh bitter rain. 

Wilted blossoms and rank weeds greet my steps, crows utter curses rough and jagged to my ears. 

5/15/2012. 

Disney Life

I don't lead a Disney life

Filled with twittering birds

And animate inanimate objects. 

I don't have it like Peter Pan

Sitting out adulthood on a whim

Waiting for the tick-tock of adventure to start. 

But I've wished upon a star. 

1/11/13

What We Wanted For You

(For Ryan)

A time ago, when we were young 

We smiled and planned. 

We were going to feed you on laughter

We were going to pour you glasses of knowledge, all that we knew. 

We were children then, 

Knowing only what we knew of life, 

Wanting to give it all to you,

Wanting you to join in the fun that was our world. 

That is what we wanted for you, the madness & the love,

The mayhem & the laughs. 

Only you know if we succeeded. 

1/11/13

Table Exiting the Long Room

You called me one day 

To say you were dying. 

Don't cry, you said

I won't I said. 

I didn't. Not then, not yet. 

I wanted to, but I'm waiting. 

Ray scattered your ashes in

Rockwood. 

I know the place, it's where I plan to cry

It's where I will remember 

your laugh

Your love

Your heart

That crooked smile you had when you were up to something

The look on your face when you would knock on my door

Asking to stay because whatever

Woman you were with had kicked you out again. 

Wish you were still here

so I could say hi just one more time. 

201209.23

Day After

It's the day after Sandy 

New York is powerless

New Jersey is scandalous 

Upstate we're watching the winds feeling the rain 

but the lights are still on. 

Hawaiillusion

Snow piles behind the panes

Kept at bay by walls and propane. 

Rocking sleepy in my chair,

Cat lapped, cozy in my sweater. 

On tv scenes of beach sand 

awash in seawater & weeds

Beside me tropical plants doze in their pots. 

Aloha. 

201212.22

 There are moments in life when we are capable of anything...

The body at the bottom of the stairs. 

201112.22

Death Came Visiting in May. 

Saw some of my friends, 

called on some of my relatives. 

He turned no one down, 

snubbed neither the poor nor middle class,

Grinned as he passed us by to give my brother in law his last ride. 

I hope he goes elsewhere for his summer vacation.

201206.11

Music in my Clothes Seems like Saturday Night.  

I was so possible that I had to be built on incomprehensibility. 

I do not panic...I smile. 

201302.14

Butterfly Storms

My soul is taut, it needs to bend and flow, to expand and contract, to fly free and to rest gently. 

It yearns to skip lightly through the aether, gathering the whims and hopes, the ghosts of dreams unfulfilled 

billowing out, blessing all with peace and love. 

201310.09

Cat hair & Dust bunnies. 

Lying on the valley floor with wheeling stars above

Rain touching feather soft the grass

Tell him I asked, I asked you why

The only answer: the rain. 

201407.03

By The Light Of A Robot's Eyes

I hold a virtual image of you in my mind but it fades, pixel by pixel. my heart yearns to hang on yearns to hold on to wisps, to fog.   

In the silent dusk my mind slowly draws to a close.

201306.30

Always Kiss Me Goodnight

There are times you drive me virtually mad

With all the craziness you do. 

There are times you are so furious you lose control and rant from the insanity of my life. 

But when you're gone. 

When the dust settles. 

When the silence falls. 

And all I've ever wanted was for you to shut up for five minutes!

I miss you more than anyone,

more than anything

and though I know how to live alone

I can't bear it without you.

201311.29

Hotel Kitchen @ One am. 

Ralph Kramden Was a Bus Driver

Thusly we come to know

That some doors remain forever closed 

and we are held bound to our fate 

By chains we forged with pieces of our souls. 

201311.29

Flotsam

I'm just passing through

You're just passing through 

It's how we live

How we are

Passing through time, space the lives of those we meet

The things we think are real are transient 

The things we think are solid are dust.

Liquid flows

Time flows

And we are fascinated by the firelight shadows on the cavern's wall.   201404.13

MAYA

A clear voice that sprung from silence sorrow shame

A voice which gave hope love and peace to many

A voice which encouraged never scorned

A voice of freedom and compassion

A voice as clear as hope

A voice as strong as love

Has drifted softly into silence once more. 

201405.28

First Day

Summer wind paper napkin plastic bag dance swirling pirouettes about each other, about the sidewalk, about my feet. 

Walking down the hill I join the dance. 

201406.23

Dance of the Lightening Bugs

It's no secret

How the universe turns

It's no marvel to me why life must spin

and spin and spin

Rumpelstiltskin super novas blossom as they whirl and I, 

I long to cry. 

201407.03

Where Did The Words Go

Out of mouths through the ears and away

We wasted time wasted breath wasted life with words

Let them twist us turn us scorch us burn us

Let them touch us bathe us help us save us

Life and time molded distance carved caverns

Perhaps they fled there. 

201407.04

Staying Strangers

Alone together

How we travel through our lives cocooned in iPads iPods 

Idontwanttoknow, selfmusic 

selfmovies selfphones selfish 

Insulated from the now

From each other 

from life. 

Thrown together by happenstance 

By circumstance by chance

We retreat hibernate

Back away from all of us

And into ourselves. 

It will come to no good. 

201407.19

Watching Shakespeare on TV

The commons chatter aimlessly 

While culture and wisdom play before them content in its own self showing no ego in its teaching, ever teaching by its own example

And still the hairless monkeys jabber. 

201407.20 

Soft Dog

When I die 

all the things that I have gathered

Will be scattered to the winds

All the kisses I have known 

Will blow away Never to return

And all that I have said or done 

Shall pass into memories

Held in a drawer

Or a book. 

When you die

All the things that you have gathered 

Will scatter

And no one will ever know

How you felt today. 

201408.04

Tender is the time

  We spend just lying side by side

Nowhere to go, no place to be     

  But where we are. 

Softly our two hearts

  Beating in time to the song of our souls

Open to each other, and we smile

  Because we are one. 

Soon our time is spent

  We slip apart, away and back to normal

A small ache for the parting hour

And our tender times. 

201408.07

Summer thunder crashes taking the ears by storm hissing cats and dogs fall pouncing on the ground making puddles lightening squalls across the sky black cloudy growls slowly fade and soon the mice come out to play. 

201408.17

My new shoes feel good 

I like how they hold my feet.

A year from now they’ll be old shoes,

And I will have forgotten

How they felt

In the days of the old shoes

201403.16

Way back when I used to wake up early mornings 

When weekends were like Christmas and summer lasted forever

When we were good guys or bad guys and our heroes were on tv

When problems were small things that grown-ups could solve

And kisses made it all better.

When did those days slip into greater worries, into times of grey

With nothing clear or sure.

No going back, no returns, no panacea for the soul

Just a voice, a fading echo which claims “You’re it.”

201807.07

My soul longs for the peace of a monastery 

The whispers of the hermit’s cave.

It calls out in silent plea for solace from the din, parting from the throng.

But I don’t know where to turn, how to take that step

And I’m afraid to be alone.

201807.07

Things his mother made;

Christmas things made by a loving hand for her son.

She’s long since passed away but he held those memories close.

Now he is gone as well, unexpectedly pulled from my life and all I have are memories

And these things his mother made

3/11/2019

I’m tired of the sorrow and the sadness

The explosive burst of tears and the creeping clutch of emptiness.

I don’t know why you had to go,

I will never know

You were always full of love and I was not

I never stopped guarding my heart against this very thing

I never stopped building walls against this very day 

And when it happened

When the end for you came

The barriers melted, the walls crumbled 

and all they kept out was you

3/11/2019

I was looking at our garden today.

I know its winter and everything is brown.

But between the deer and the rabbits

They killed the growing dreams we had; the roses, the willow tree.

I laughed when you brought it home

“We live on a sand dune” I said, “A willow won’t grow here.”

But it did, for the whole of spring and summer it survived.

But not this winter, very little survived this winter.

3/11/2019 

[relicworlds-blog]

Lancaster James and the Lost Tribe of the Raginor

The jungle was thick with fog so dense it felt as though Lancaster James and his partner Little Jack were slicing through a solid substance.  The mist clung to every leaf and vine, every tree trunk and every bush, as though it was a web attached to them.  Waving away the vapor, it was only replaced a moment later, like water refilling the ocean that had just been scooped.

The cackling tick of insects and birdsreverberated just out of sight in every direction.  Most seemed small and harmless, but Little Jack kept his two pistols Huginn and Muninn ready for those growls he was hearing both above and below, and for the slithering he heard near the ground and in the trees.

They were keeping a particularly close lookout for signs of cracks in the earth.  When flying into the area they could see from above that the jungle was interrupted by deep canyons whose bottoms were beyond the capabilities of their sensors.  One wrong step and they could be tumbling for a very long time.

They tried to watch around them as well.  Lancaster and Little Jack had come to this planet to locate the remains of a Raginor city that was supposed to be somewhere in these woods.  It had been listed on a map within an artifact known as the Constellation Crest.  Ruins were all they expected to find since the Raginors had lived about a hundred millions years ago, and because they had been targeted by the original owners of the Constellation Crest, the Siguerans, who were known for conquering and destroying entire civilizations.  They had, no doubt, killed the inhabitants of this planet, and Lancaster only hoped they left behind enough for him to learn something about this once thriving culture.

The flora and fauna were consistent with Raginor traditions of habitat.  The trees were wide, tall, and firm.  They had a unique pattern of thick bark that stuck out of the trees as they corkscrewed their way up the trunks like thin ridges. Their leaves were wide, and felt like plastic.  Barely over half of them were green; the rest were shades of orange, purple, and pink, and a few stood out as red.  Lancaster avoided those; his research had told him they were poisonous, and he didn’t want to test the hypothesis.

Lancaster drew his Illuminator again and scanned the area around him.  The device aided his sight into areas his eyes could not see by delving into other light spectrums, and sonar, as well as other means to detect what was in front of it.  He studied his readings as he could audibly hear Little Jack growing impatient behind him.  Lancaster’s own breath of disappointment revealed his lack of success at finding anything.

“The Siguerans could’ve destroyed it,” Little Jack said, referring to the lost city for which they were searching.  “Or the jungle might’ve eaten it up in the centuries since.”

Lancaster drew in a deep breath.  He was hesitating, trying to come up with some reason to keep going rather than accept the truth.  But he held his breath mid-exhale.  His forehead furrowed and his eyes squinted in concentration of a thought he just had. The Raginors were known for the dexterity of their hands, climbing as much as they walked.  Their choice of settlements in forests may not be a fluke. He hurried to the nearest wide tree trunk and looked it over.  He felt at the bark that protruded up around the circumference.  It was just wide enough that one could fit his foot on it, and could walk it like a tight rope performance.

Lancaster scanned up the tree with his Illuminator, confirming that the narrow ledge wound its way up far along the trunk.  “I credit I found the lost city,” he said.

Little Jack stepped up behind him and said, “Only one way to aprend.”

 They had been climbing slowly and steadily for a quarter of an hour.  Despite their speed, they had gotten rather high.  They couldn’t see the ground, though they had lost sight of that only a couple meters up.  But they knew it was a long way down, and one slip would spell their doom. “They couldn’t be bothered to build hand rails,” Little Jack complained.

“Raginors didn’t need it,” Lancaster argued.  “They…”

“Was just being clever,” Little Jack said before his partner could ramble into a lecture. Lancaster got the hint and stopped talking.

The fog had lifted the further up they went, and now they could actually see more than 20 meters.  Presently, Lancaster caught his breath at what he beheld.  Platforms supported roughhewn structures that clung to the trees.  They were covered over by leaves and vines which embraced them in camouflaged hugs, but Lancaster knew an intelligently designed building when he saw one, even through nature’s attempted cover-up.  He started toward it a little faster.

“Hold… Hold.  Hold!” Little Jack said, having to get more insistent with each use of the word. Lancaster was mesmerized by his goal and he had to be snapped out of his excitement.  He looked back at Little Jack, who motioned toward the bark-stairs in front of him.  They stopped. And they didn’t look as though they had worn away; they simply weren’t built into the tree anymore.Lancaster looked across the chasm toward his goal, and he wondered what the Raginor had been thinking.  Had there been a draw bridge that was on the other side?  There were a number of branches that hung in between which would have blocked any such bridge, but they wouldn’t necessarily have been there millions of years ago.

Then he got it. The branches were the draw bridge.  Raginors walked with their hands as well as they did with their feet. They could swing through the trees with the same ease as on the ground.  The branches were simply a different kind of road for them, one that others would have difficulty following; including him.

Lancaster explained this to Little Jack, who reminded him how far down it was. “Thanks for that,” Lancaster said.

“Just figure you should know since it figures to've slipped your mind,” Little Jack responded.

“Yeah. But if I don’t go across to there, we mosed here for nothing.  The branches are sturdy,” he said, pulling at one of them.  “And there are plenty here.  I can put my feet on some of them while I grab with others.”

“You aren’t a monkey,” Little Jack told him.

“Or a Raginor,” Lancaster continued.  But he was bound and determined, and Little Jack knew he couldn’t change his mind once it was made.  So he said no more, and he watched his partner prepare himself.

Lancaster plotted a course in his mind along the trail of branches, determining where each hand would grab and each foot would step.  Then he launched himself forward, nabbing one branch, then another, placing a foot down on yet another.  He didn’t dare stop.  He may not be able to balance in one place.  Instead he retained his momentum, hurtling through the corridor of branches. He realized suddenly with horror that his right foot had landed on the wrong branch, and it broke his entire rhythm. His plotted course was gone, and the branch he had launched himself toward was not the one he had planned on. He grabbed it, but he didn’t know where he was going next.  He swung a little slower and longer as he found somewhere to land his left foot. With no time to think, he skipped over toward his right, finding a branch to grab onto while in the air.  He swung, but found no branch to step on, so he pressed his foot against the tree trunk and found a branch on the other side to grab.  He was close now, but a single miss would mean he’d tumble to his doom.  He quickly plotted another course to take him the rest of the way, and he followed it, hoping the branches were strong enough. The last one looked a little flimsy; and indeed it broke under his weight.  But luckily he was only a meter away from the platform, and he leaned forward and grabbed onto it, hanging on for dear life.

Pulling himself up, Lancaster found himself at the edge of the Raginor city.  Enclosures of all sizes clung to the trees, covered over by leaves and branches that embraced them within their wooded grasps. He had made it.  A light rain drizzled overhead, dissolving into steam where Lancaster stood, and settling into mist below.  The buildings were connected by planks which, though overgrown with every kind of plant life, were steady enough to remain intact.  The most Lancaster heard of any structural buckling was the occasional creaking noise.  Though he was still amazed, Lancaster was used to this by now.  Advanced alien civilizations had developed architectures and alloysthat lasted millions of years; a practice that was a blessing for every xeno-archaeologist and anthropologist practicing today.

Despite this, however, Lancaster still had to be careful.  Though the structures were sound, they had sat on trees this entire time; trees which did not always remain inert.  And so ancient cracks could result in larger breaks should he test them too harshly.  As he looked around, he noticed a few sections that had given way, and so he maneuvered cautiously through the town.

Within the buildings were partial floors dividing each level like balconies. These were accessible to one another through crisscrossing pegs and bars, and occasionally branches.  He hopped from level to level, searching for some clue as to the purpose of each building. He found none.  They were all empty.  And not empty as in the furniture had nothing on or in them; but utterly empty. This town had been abandoned; not lost due to an extinction event.  The Raginor here had likely picked up their things and moved.

As Lancaster scanned a room, he turned to see a large bird he had not formerly noticed. It stood proudly on the windowsill on the opposite side.  The bird was large, about half the size of Lancaster, and did not look afraid.  Nor did it appear to be threatening.  The bright purple and orange feathered animal simply studied Lancaster curiously.

Lancaster returned to his work, pulling a device out of one his jacket pockets which could measure the age of synthesized materials.  As he lifted the item, he noticed the bird again.  It seemed to be a little closer, but he saw no signs of movement, and it was standing perfectly still, staring at him.  Lancaster kept his eye on the fowl a little longer, then turned to one of the walls.  He chose a part and wiped away dirt and greenery...

A nearby noise attracted Lancaster's attention, and he turned to see the strange bird now standing less than two meters away from him.  It was motionless once again, as if it had always been there.  It was, at the very least, self-aware enough to know how to play the old game of Red Light, Green Light.

Lancaster now kept his eyes on the bird while he raised his hand with the device to scan the wall.  He turned his head very briefly so he could make sure that his hand was over the correct part of the wall as he turned back toward the animal.  In that little time, the bird had begun to move; and now it continued to waddle toward Lancaster even though he was looking right at it.  Then it began chattering.  At first Lancaster only thought about how uneven the bird's call was, but suddenly he realized that it was not a common animal cackle. It was making noises with patterns that sounded a lot more like the syntax of language!  His eyes wide, Lancaster bent down, lowering his face to the height of the bird.  He listened carefully for anything he might recognize from another language, or to catch on to whatever the birds' was.

The next time that the bird said something Lancaster had already heard, he tried repeating it back.  The bird straightened up, and somehow looked annoyed.  It was silent for a moment while Lancaster made the noise again.

Then the bird lashed its neck forward and swiped Lancaster's hat right off his head. Lancaster had only time for a yelp before the bird spread its wings, fell back, and hurried out the window. The move had been so sudden that Lancaster didn't fully understand what was happening until the creature was out of sight and his head felt naked.  Lancaster could hear it chirping off in the distance, as though mocking his failure. Leaping to the window, Lancaster caught one last glimpse of it, and his hat, disappearing into the fog below.

Lancaster pulled his Walki up to his mouth and called Little Jack.  "Would you like to do a little bird hunting?" he asked.

"Why?" Little Jack asked suspiciously.

Lancaster hesitated.  He knew that Little Jack would not live it down if he learned that Lancaster lost his hat this time to a bird.  So he just said, "Never mind.  I'm piking my way down."

 Lancaster used his Geomagellan, a mapping device that had recorded the major landmarks when they flew over the terrain before landing, to locate his next destination. He laid in the coordinates for the nearest canyon and led them in that direction.  Little Jack again watched closely for creatures to jump out at them through the fog.  He began watching for birds, but after noticing Lancaster didn’t have his hat anymore, he deduced the real reason his partner had wanted him to be on the lookout for one.

Lancaster had set out for the canyon based on a hunch.  The Raginor had left their tree city, but for where?  He had measured the age of the structure to the era just before the Siguerans had placed this planet on the map.  That told Lancaster that the Siguerans had narrowed in on the Raginors, and the Raginors had determined to move on.  If they had left for another part of this planet, it would likely be to somewhere that was not as easily visible from space.  Thus, the canyons.  It was at least worth a look.

The fog cleared ever so slightly as the two men came to the lip of the canyon.  It was sudden, and straight down into oblivion; and they were glad the device had warned them ahead of time when they were coming up to it.  Lancaster pulled out of his jacket his specialized Prismatic Binocs that allowed for him to see distances in various spectrums and get scientific readings on the objects on which he had focused.

On this part of the planet, the sun never rose to the top of the sky; it always shone at an angle.  As such, most of the canyon never received sunlight, and ice had formed along the edges only a couple dozen meters down from the top.  The Prismatic Binocs revealed a change in temperature from 30 degrees Celsius to below zero in a matter of yards.  They could both hear the crackling of the ice shelves as they echoed in the darkness below.

Lancaster could not make out any structures that he had suspected were there.  All the Prismatic Binocs could come back with were readings of steep walls and thick ice shelves with occasional large boulders.  Nevertheless, Lancaster had a hunch, and he didn’t want to leave without at least trying. He attached a line from his grappling gun to one of the larger and sturdier trees.  He attached the grappling gun to his belt and approached the edge.  “Make sure nothing touches that wire, will you?” he said to his partner.

“You afearedd a bird will make off with that, too?” Little Jack asked dryly.

Lancaster glared at him a moment, but Little Jack only stared back through his wide, frosted over glasses that covered half his face.  No one could win a stare down with Little Jack, so Lancaster didn’t try. He leaped into the abyss.

His boots tapped against the edge, first smacking dirt, which puffed around his legs.  Then they tapped against mud, some of which stuck to his soles.  Then they tapped against hardened mud, almost as tough as a rock.  Then they tapped against ice.  It had gone faster than he had ever experienced.  Lancaster tensed his toes a couple times in a specific pattern, then knocked the boots together and spikes came out the front.  He kicked them hard into the ice, and secured himself, testing their weight.  Once he got them securely fastened, he removed an Illuminator head band from his utility belt and he strapped it over the top of his head.  At the front of the head band was a light he could switch to any light spectrum, but he chose for the moment an automated adjustable white light that raised and lowered in intensity based on how far the nearest obstacle was to him.  That way, the ice that was directly in front of his face wouldn’t blind him, but he could still look across the canyon and see what was there without taking his hands away from climbing.

Slowly he lowered down into the darkness, his feet walking downward, kicking into the ice. Soon, no light reached him, and it could only be seen when looking directly up at the ever shrinking gap where sky was visible.  Below, not even his Prismatic Binocs could detect the bottom.  All that came from that direction was the snaps and crackles of the breaking ice.  It was getting louder, and occasionally there was a crashing noise as somewhere an outcropping of ice got too big and fell apart under its own weight.

The temperature dropped quickly, so Lancaster put on his spiked gloves and pressed a button inside his jacket that heated it up.  The hat would have had something similar, but it was instead keeping some bird’s nest warm.

After dropping for about twenty minutes, Lancaster switched to several other spectrums, trying infrared and ultraviolet.  Finally he left it on illuminated X-ray to see beyond some of the ice.  He had to switch between that and white light so he could see where he was going, but most of the time he didn’t need that. There was one direction for him; down.

The crackling of the ice was all around him now, though he could not see any of it. Each snap and pop could be coming from anywhere, even deep within the ice shelf, and its noise was being amplified through the acoustics and the incessant echoes.

A half hour into the descent, Lancaster was ready to give it up.  There may not be another city.  The Raginor were star faring, so they could have left this planet behind and settled elsewhere.  At any rate, there was no reason to be so certain they had built anything down this canyon.  Besides, he was running out of line.

He turned his head to look around the canyon, wondering if there was any sign of getting near the bottom.  There wasn’t, and none of his devices could even still detect the bottom.  As if aware of his conundrum, Little Jack called, saying, “Have you pinged to the other side of the planet yet?”

Lancaster didn’t respond; he just took one last look around him.  As the light from his Headband Illuminator brightened to reveal the opposite cliff side, Lancaster recognized a pattern.  The ice sheets seemed to fall in unusually perfect symmetrical order.  And some seemed to cross vertically.  It looked almost like the outline to a… building.  He followed the lines down as they dropped into the darkness far below. Then he followed them side to side, making out where one structure might end and another began.  Though the ice ebbed and flowed like waves in an ocean, there were enough distinct lines along them to reveal a pattern.  And that pattern repeated several times to the left and right.

Lancaster needed to get closer to effectively use the X-ray light.  So he told Little Jack he'd be a bit longer, crouched down facing the opposite side, and kicked off.  He fell quite a way, almost to the end of his line.  But he knew he had a lot of leeway, and he reached the opposite wall safely; cutting into the ice on the opposite end with his spiked gloves.

The light from his Illuminator twisted and refracted in the ice, revealing a masonry wall like a wavering ghostly visage, or an underwater treasure.  Shifting to the left, he could see an opening that led into a wider room.  Shining his Headband Illuminator in X-ray revealed the details of the room.  It was definitely Raginor.  There were several levels that stuck out of the walls like balconies, and crisscrossing rods for climbing.

He pulled out his Eco Analyzer and ran it over the ice, measuring its thickness.  A little over a meter.  He had tools that could cut into that, but the constant roars of the breaking ice reminded him that this might not be the safest option. Taking down a major support in the ice shelf could be like taking down a pillar on a building, bringing the entire structure down.

And so Lancaster kept looking.  The thickness of the ice wavered, but it was never much less than a meter.  Sometimes it grew to several yards where moisture had built up into a bulge.

He found one spot where the light from his Illuminator bounced through to the room fairly easily and intense, but the Analyzer said it was nearly two meters to the opposite side.  Lancaster wondered how this could be, and at last theorized that there could be an air bubble inside.  He decided to chance it, fully aware that if he was wrong, he could be bringing a huge shard of ice down on himself. Lancaster removed his precision laser cutter, set it to the proper cutting depth, and got to work.

Lancaster went slow enough to make sure he got through the ice, but he didn't disturb a lot around it.  As he got to the fourth side, he heard cracking deep within.  He froze his cutting hand and scanned the ice sheet all around it.  Nothing... Nothing that he could see at least.  So he kept going.

A rapid snapping like distant fireworks cackled from within the sheet he was cutting, and he saw a small, rough line form and break into several forks like a lightning bolt. But the sheet held, and the section Lancaster had cut came loose.  He pushed it forward, into the air bubble.  He had been right.  The piece crashed against the floor a couple meters down.

Lancaster pulled himself into the air bubble and measured the second sheet.  When he had the distance, he set it into the laser cutter and carefully cut into the second part.  Again, the walls groaned and crackled, but they held.  And he was able to push another square of ice forward that crashed onto the ice floor, this time right where Lancaster's feet were.

Lancaster pulled himself into the structure, stood on solid ground, removed the grappling gun from his belt and placed it securely near the opening he had made. Turning back to the room, he went about maneuvering up and down the platforms, aiding his climbs and descents with the bars that stretched across the rooms.  Unlike the structures in the trees, these were furnished and decorated in the fashion of the Raginors, which appeared the most like humans of any of the alien races.

About a quarter of each room was covered over in ice.  The rest almost might as well have been.  Most things were still intact, though few items that weren't heavy furniture still stood.  Like many Raginor structures, the doorways between rooms were not always at ground level; sometimes they were between two platforms, and sometimes one had to swing from one chamber to the other via bars.  These were freezing cold, even through Lancaster's gloves, and he tried to use these for fear he might get stuck to them.

Maneuvering through the rooms was further complicated by the fact that many of the walls were not built but rather were ice walls that had formed into place, and some entrances and exits were partially blocked.  Lancaster took as many photographs and holographs as he could, and encrypted them all with galactic and geo-coordinates so the scientific community could do further research.

After taking one of his photos, Lancaster noticed something on one of the shelves. Most of the items he had been passing were mundane, and few would function, and might even fall apart if someone picked them up.  But one item was something Lancaster had read about.  It was metallic, about the size of the palm of his hand, and pyramidal in shape.  He turned it over to look at the base and see if it had what he suspected.

Indeed, there were a pair of lines that ran parallel to one another, then formed a bulb at one end.  Lancaster placed his thumb over the bulb, then ran it down the lines.  The walls of the pyramid opened up at the front, revealing a few metallic rods that looked as though they should be plugged in somewhere. "A Sahu Crystal," Lancaster whispered to himself in amazement.  It was believed to carry data.  The museum where his ex-wife worked, and for whom he was working, had built a prototype machine that could read one of these if one was ever recovered.  This would be the best find of all.  Lancaster placed it in his bag he kept slung around his shoulder, and he also grabbed a few of the nicer looking mundane items to show off. The photos and the location would be the best treasures to get back, but these would at least provide something physical.

Then something else caught his eye that startled him enough to duck for cover. He panted in fear for a few seconds, peeking out at what he had spotted out of the corner of his eye.  It was still there; the outline of a form through which he could see, like a ghost.  He could make out a torso, and part of a head.  It was still, unmoving.  A part of the ice that had formed in the shape of a being?

Lancaster approached it cautiously, watching for it to move, but it remained perfectly still.  The form seemed to be leaning against a wall.  Its body was half formed, half missing.  Lancaster could make out a shoulder, part of a leg, what looked like pieces of three limbs.  It was delicate, like very thin ice.  Lancaster reached out to it to touch it, to see if it was natural or something formed. His finger tapped it lightly.  It felt like a very flaky crust.  Then it crumbled into dust at his feet within a second. He tried to catch it, but only managed to catch flakes.  Whatever it was, it was destroyed.  Suddenly, Lancaster was kicking himself for not taking an image of it first either in 3D or at least in 2D.  What the delicate half statue had been was a mystery, though Lancaster theorized it had been old skin of a Raginor which they shed every now and then, and the cold had frozen it in place for all these years... until Lancaster came and interfered.

He continued along, going vertical now, but trying not to travel too far from a direct path to where he came in.  This was an entire city carved out of the cliff, and it could go on for a very long time. He didn't want to get lost.  He hopped from one platform to another, occasionally grabbing rods as he went.  A long ice shelf sliced through the building on one side, and he climbed up it with one foot while he stepped up the various levels with the other like stairs.  He paused at each one, scanning each room, and photographing some.

At one point Lancaster stopped on a floor to go through his photo and holographs.  They all looked good, but one of them caused Lancaster to halt his breath.  It was from one of the first rooms he had stopped on during his ascent.  He spotted the shadow of a figure at one of the exits. Lancaster had not noticed it at the time he took the photograph, but it saw him.  The figure appeared to be staring right at him.

Lancaster quickly looked around to see if anyone was watching him now.  He found no one.  He switched through several spectrums on his Illuminator to make sure. He was alone.  Lancaster then turned his attention back to his Imager. The picture had 3D elements, so he shifted it to a projected hologram and took a closer look.  Sure enough, a shadowy figure stood there in the doorway. There was not enough light to reveal any details about it; just its shape, which was a torso with two legs and what looked like four arms.

A shiver ran down Lancaster's spine that shook his entire body.  He was not alone down here.  He quickly crouched and looked around himself.  He peered into every exit to the left and right, then up and down. He listened closely.  Silence, save for the constant, distant booms and crackle of breaking ice echoing through the canyon.  The vapor from Lancaster's breath hung languidly in the air ahead of him, as though it was afraid to move as well.  Was he being hunted?  Had whatever creature it was not seen him?

But Lancaster wasn't here to be a coward.  Discovery was his job, even in a dark, frozen city deep underground.  He returned to the long sheet of ice and lowered down until he saw where he had begun using it.  Then he hopped back down the platforms, trying to land more gently now to make less noise.  On one platform he knocked away from ice and it crashed against a level below, then tumbled into another, then ricocheted off a few bars before crashing onto its final platform.  At each point it made a loud crashing noise that echoed through every chamber and out into the canyon.

Lancaster stopped and watched the floors below.  If something had heard the noise, perhaps it would go to it and he could see what it was.  He pulled in his breath, breathing as little, slowly and evenly as possible.

After a few minutes, there was nothing, not even the sound of anything moving around. Whatever this creature was, it wasn't as clumsy as him.

At last Lancaster moved again, slower this time, quieter.  It was difficult as some platforms had to be leaped onto.  But he disturbed them as little as possible.  On the final platform he pulled his Imager as he was making his step and he slipped, crashing chest first onto the floor. The Imager slipped from his grasp and began to tumble down into the maze of levels.  Lancaster brought his other hand around and managed to catch it out of the air.  He sighed with relief, then rolled onto his back, looking at the Imager.

The room in the image matched the room he was in, and the shadow of the figure should be right...

Lancaster hopped up, realizing he had put himself into a compromising position on the ground.  He looked over at the exit where the shadow had been.  It was hard to see anything but darkness there.  The Imager had picked it up where his eyes saw only a black void.  He switched the Headband Illuminator to thermal imaging to see if the creature was still at the doorway.  It didn't pick anything up.  It was possible that the creature didn't give off much heat, so he checked several other spectrums and got nothing.

It was time to take a closer look at the entryway where the shadow had been. Lancaster stepped cautiously toward it in case it was a room or two away.  He put the white light on so he could see better.  The light crawled across the straight walls and waves of ice until it filled the dark hole, and revealed the wall of ice beyond.  Encased within it was a form with a head, a torso, four arms, and two legs.  Lancaster might have thought it was human if it wasn't so hairy, and if he didn't recognize what it was.  "A Raginor," he whispered to himself in amazement.

It wasn't quite what the Xenological Museum of Natural History had pictured.  They had a display of what they thought a Raginor would look like based on fossil fragments and cryptic records.  Very little solid data had ever been recovered of the Raginor, so they had had to make as best a guess as they could.  They had set it up as a sort of snake creature with two thin, spindly arms and legs that were like a spider's.  It had brown or black hair all over its body and eyes on the sides of its face.

Now, looking at this perfectly preserved specimen, Lancaster saw they had been pretty far off.  It looked more like a human ancestor, or a chimpanzee, though with far less fur. Its skin was scaly and shades of yellow and green.  It had occasional small suction cups at important locations for grip.  It possessed four arms and two legs, or perhaps two arms and four legs; the pair in the middle resembled both, but were wiry like tails.  The clothing was a one-piece with sealed seams along several joints where it could get in and out.  The posture of this Raginor was slumped against a back wall, as though it had been dead, then was frozen over.

Lancaster had several theories as to what had happened, but none had sufficient evidence to make a determination.  Besides, that could be more thoroughly discovered by an archaeology team.  He just needed to tell them how to get in. So that they could see what he was talking about, Lancaster scanned the cadaver with a Holocapture; going over the body slowly to make sure it captured every detail and filled it into the 3D model.

Looking at the virtual model, Lancaster noticed that one of the hands was outstretched almost to the edge of the ice.  Lancaster pulled out his hand heater and placed it next to the ice.  A layer became loose and melted away, dropping slowly to the ground below.  He pushed the heater closer, cutting his way to the hand until he had exposed a finger.

Lancaster put the heater away and removed a glove.  The cold immediately assaulted it, but he didn't mind.  He reached forward and touched the skin of the Raginor. It was hardened, but felt of leather. He even felt tiny ridges of a fingerprint.  A new sort of shiver ran down Lancaster’s spine, one that only comes from the haunting connection of a long ago past.  Or perhaps it was the accomplishment of one of Lancaster's greatest dreams; to touch a real intelligent alien life form.  He held his finger there pressed against the Raginor's for a time, and he scanned it with his watering eyes.  The alien's face was scrunched up, as though in pain.  This was common in the bodies of ancient animals, even when they were preserved.  But knowing that something caused the Raginors to go extinct caused Lancaster to see more in that expression; anguish.  Was this the last Raginor of this city?  Had they all died and only this one to carry on until it froze to death and got encased?  Lancaster hoped the Sahu Crystal would provide some answers.

To furtherassist the study, Lancaster sliced off a part of the finger's edge, and a hair. "Sorry about this, partner," Lancaster said.  "But your donation might just help us avenge your race."

Then Lancaster heard a growing rumble like rolling thunder coming straight for him. The deep noise was followed by rapid snapping, and the ground began shaking beneath him.  The ice was shifting where he was.

Lancaster dashed for the edge of the platform where he had entered.  He reached the edge of it just as the walls began to shift. Debris sprinkled on him as Lancaster leaped off the platform and grabbed a rod.  He kept moving as the entire area rocked back and forth.  He held tight to each rod he grabbed, stepping on a couple platforms as he made his way down to the level from which he had begun to climb. A sharp pain wracked his leg and he fell to the ground.  He had twisted his ankle as he landed.

A deafening screech from the side told Lancaster that he didn't have time to recover. He looked to see a large ice slab that hung over the room he was in was lowering.  Being between him and the doorway, the slab would cut him off from his exit.  So Lancaster got up on his one foot, and hobbled on his other toward the passage. He saw the sharp bottom of the slap; like a guillotine.  It was dropping as fast as he was moving.  He had to pick up the pace.  He placed forward his injured foot and ran on it.  The pain shot through his whole body, and he stumbled, but he got a little more speed.  The slab was passing the height of Lancaster's head, and he had only a moment left.  He kicked off his good foot and tumbled forward, rolling past the dropping ice sheet.

He just made it, but the pack was still on the other side.  With a yank, he brought it to him just in time.

Lancaster was panting now, lucky to be on the right side of the ice sheet.  However, he wasn't safe yet.  Though the tectonic movements had ended, the residual effects were still taking place.  Sharp ice shards were dropping from the ceiling, crashing to the ground as though they were being shot out of a gun.  Lancaster rose to his feet, but was still slow in the process.  One of the shards hit him as he was straightening, stabbing into his shoulder.  Another smacked his head and nearly knocked him unconscious.

Lancaster looked through the deafening rain of ice crystals and found the grappling gun and wire.  He B-lined toward it, hobbling as fast as he could.  One shard knocked his right shoulder down, though it was a blessing in disguise as he looked up to see a shard large enough to slice through his head coming right at him.  He dodged to the left, avoiding the blade, but landing on his injured foot.  He shouted in pain, but his voice was mute compared to the shattering noises around him.

He had to keep moving, so he set his eyes on the wire and he hurried forward, almost falling toward it.  Lancaster reached his hand forward to grasp the grappling gun and it was stabbed with a shard.  Screaming, yet still moving, Lancaster reached his other hand forward and grasped the handle.  More shards were hitting his back like rain, but he ignored the pain and jumped out the hole, attaching the gun to his belt as he went.  He felt it snap into place, and the wire went taut as he swung to the other end of the canyon.

When his body thudded on the other side, Lancaster coughed air back into his lungs and looked back at the hole.  White smoke billowed out of it, some of it clinging to the hole he had made, repairing itself.  The booming crackles echoed into the distance.  The ice around Lancaster had settled once again, and it was another area's turn. Lancaster began to think an expedition here would not be feasible, especially considering the cautiousness of the Universalis Arcanum.  But maybe the university where his ex-wife Mika worked could analyze the data from the Sahu Crystal and the DNA from the body, as well as the photos and holographs.

At any rate, Lancaster was making his way up out of the canyon.  His work here was done.

 The End