#inspiration struck on the drive home from dropping my brother off this morning

[theriverpointace]

We all are guilty of importance (playing like it's ours) We borrowed 'cause we can't afford it (stealing glory from afar) But we want it, we need attention here Or else we're just like everybody else Is that wrong?

ford prefect + "great vacation" by the dirt poor robins (and arthur's there too)

i haven't made a post about it yet but good god there have been so many thoughts about ford and how he doesn't have a home planet, a home culture, a native language—so he dedicates his life to running about the galaxy making sure it doesn't happen to anybody else. this song is obviously on my ford playlist bc it's about the world ending but this line especially sticks out to me every time. it's such a perfect summation of how i feel about his character: everybody is worth an entry in the guide.

gonna include some process pics under a cut bc i like them :)

(the fish was so much smaller lol. the sketch was mostly just to get a placeholder for everything that wasn't ford and arthur tho so. also ford's arm lol! glad i fixed that haha)

(first pass at color! i was excited but i knew the space bg would be awhile lol)

(this is mostly basically the final thing but i ended up going over the space bg with black and liked it better)

of the top two photos, they're the same photo but one's way more saturated. i liked the oversaturated one a lot but i wanted to include the original picture too :P

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @i-am-still-bb​ based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Gen

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

Sick Days & Ice Queens

—

Kili patted another fistful of snow into a snowball. He rolled it over in his hands making sure that it was solid and that it fit nicely into his hand. He set the completed snowball onto the pile and promptly scooped up another handful of snow. He was so focused on his task that he failed to notice that the school down the street had let out. This was always accompanied by yelling and laughter, and on today, the final day before Christmas break, it was no different. 

When his mother had taken his temperature that morning and told him that he was going to be staying home—school rules—he had pouted and hurled himself into his bed. The final day of school before the break never consisted of much work. It was usually just a Christmas party and some “housekeeping” as his teacher called it.

But Kili had a fever of 100.3. So he had to miss all the fun. He didn’t even feel sick. His mother had not listened to his protestations; he had already received his first dose of cold medicine.

Fili had pushed open the door to their bedroom before leaving for school. He was already dressed in his coat and hat and his gloves dangled from the cuffs of his coat. “I’ll bring you some cookies?” he offered.

“It won’t be the same,” Kili huffed, face buried in his pillow. 

“I know,” Fili agreed.

Kili rolled over to look at the bottom of the top bunk. Glow in the dark stars  were dull against the wooden boards. Some paper snowflakes hung near the foot of the bed. He sighed. “Why aren’t you sick?”

Fili shrugged. “I don’t eat food off the floor,” he teased.

“That was one time!” Kili protested loudly. 

Their conversation was interrupted by their mother calling for Fili, saying that he was going to be late.

“I’ll see you after school?” Fili offered before turning the corner.

“Yeah… I guess…” 

Kili spent the morning mopping around the house and driving his mother crazy with questions and being a general nuisance. There was nothing on the television worth watching after 9am unless he wanted to watch toddler shows, soap operas, or the news. His GameBoy batteries were dead and he couldn’t find new ones. And he did not want to read a book, thank you very much. When noon rolled around Dis fed him a lunch of vegetable soup with alphabet noodles and grilled cheese. And then she took his temperature again. 

99.8

And with that she declared him better and shooed him out the door before his coat was even fully zipped.

Kili stayed outside and that was where Fili found him a couple hours later when the knees of Kili’s snowsuit were soaked through and his cheeks were red from warmth and exertion rather than cold. He had constructed a wall of snow using an old ice cream tub and had dragged the plastic play furniture from the shed into his snow fort. 

Fili stopped next to the snow wall. “What’re you doing?”

Kili’s head snapped up. “You’re home!” he exclaimed. “You can help defeat the ice queen!”

Fili dropped his backpack on the snow. “How do we do that?”

“Well we have to be older,” Kili said matter-of-factly. “Like old enough that you have a beard. And then we have to go to the faeries to get their help.”

“Faeries?”

Kili nodded vehemently. “They’re the only ones that know how to defeat the ice queen,” he said, then added as inspiration struck, “Maybe they have a magic potion! Or a sword! Or—”

“A magic spell!” Fili interrupted, already getting sucked into his brother’s imaginative play.

“Yes!” Kili nodded.

“I’m going to get my boots and then I’ll be back,” Fili said. “My toes are already wet.” He lifted a wet sneaker as proof. 

“Can you bring Oscar when you come back out?” Kili shouted at Fili’s back before he disappeared inside.

“Yes,” Fili shouted back. 

Fili returned a few minutes later with different shoes and his own snow gear and a wooden reindeer clutched in one fist. He set Oscar down on the table. 

“So how do we find the faeries?”

Kili spelled out his plan and the two of them traveled through “Mirkwood” to the “Long Lake” their imaginations turning the bushes that were icy and had a few leaves still clinging to their mostly bare branches and the koi pond in their neighbors yard turning into a dense and magical forest that bewitched its visitors and a lake that was visited by a dragon. The air was cold and tasted of snow, but the two boys stayed out until the street lights were coming on. 

“Fili! Kili! Dinner time!” Their mother called them away from their play and everything drifted back to reality. Oscar was a wooden toy, not a warm companion that made sure they didn’t fall into the lake or the river. The plastic play furniture was no longer a wooden table laden with rich foods to tempt them away from their quest. But the invisible Ice Queen was still out there, undefeated, as the dense covering of snow was proof.

The boys rushed inside knowing that tomorrow they could build a different world with their imaginations.

[redbowedblogger]

secret solenoid

my gift for @andresome04 for the secret solenoid gift exchange! my prompt was driftxracthet - humanformers romantic night in. i decided to go with their first romantic night in when they move into a new house. fic is heavily inspired by brakedownsbutlights human au. contains: fluff, mild smut, and nudity.

The gravel drive crunched under the moving truck’s tires as the house came into view at the end of the long path. 

" welp… it's not much, but it's home." Ratchet said as he parked the vehicle. 

"Oh ratty, this is- '' Drift was at a loss for words as he viewed their new home. Well, his new home. Ratty had grown up here. The large yard was overgrown and the west side was more ivy than house. The windows were covered with plywood to keep kids from throwing rocks, and the front steps sagged. Overall it was a magnificent house. " this is wonderful." Drift grinned. 

Ratchet grunted as he popped open the old oak front door. The entryway was lined with coat hooks and empty shoe cubbies. Drift wandered reverently from room to room. Furniture was covered in white sheets and naked bulbs cast a yellow white glare as Ratchet flicked them on. "Most everything we need should be here. Ma left most of it when she went to live with my brother and his family… the place is a little dustier than I remember but everything seems in place." Ratchet dropped the heavy bags down on the carpet. "Where do you want to start?" he asked. Drift grinned excitedly.

The first thing they did was unload the campulance and let the animals stretch their legs. The cat immediately ran upstairs in a flash of ginger fur and dust motes, and the dog set about securing the expansive backyard. Ratchet pulled the wood from where windows and flung them open to let in the afternoon light. Drift whisked sheet after sheet off of the furniture and beat life back into the area rugs. moths were evicted and lampshades were put back on their fixtures. By evening the living room and kitchen had been put into some semblance of an order, and pizza had been ordered. 

"And tomorrow we can do the upper floors and the  bathrooms. I can't wait to get the garden in order… It's probably too late for squash but we can get a few tomatoes and peppers before the season ends… the dining room could use a fresh coat of paint but the mauve color is good'' Drift rambled around his slice of veggie and olive. Ratchet was too busy staring at his husband. Drift. His husband! His husband Drift. All beautiful  grace and deadly accuracy and profound loyalty….and all his. 

"What are you looking at ratty?" Drift cut off. 

"You." Ratchet answered honestly

 Drift's red tattoos disappeared behind his embarrassed flush.

"Ratty…." He chided. 

"What! I can't admire my husband?" Ratty asked, a wicked grin splitting his face. 

Ratchet reached out and pulled Drift into his lap. "After all what's not to admire?" He asked as he planted a whiskery kiss on Drift's cheek.

"You have got to shave that thing!" Drift laughed as he gently tugged on Ratchet's ginger stubble. 

“But i like the way you laugh when it tickles you.” Ratchet defended as he planted kisses all over Drift’s face, neck and ears. 

“Ratty- no- stop!” he laughed as he tried to squirm away. 

“Nope no escape!” Ratchet cried as he began a full on tickling onslaught. Drift shrieked as he began to thrash, long arms and legs flying and kicking as Ratchet continued his attack. All the commotion gained the attention of the dog, who immediately bound up on the couch”

“Magnus down! No!” Ratchet cried in vain. The giant dane mix threw all his considerable weight on his people, and as a result the poor old sofa couldn't cope. Ratchet felt his center of gravity drop as the whole thing tipped back and fell with a large thunk. He and Drift lay sprawled across the floor a moment, silent and breathless, until laughter returned with a vengeance. 

“Hey ratty,” Drift started as he rolled over to lay on his stomach, head propped on one fist. 

“Hm?” 

“It's not going to be…. Weird with me here is it?” Drift chewed is bottom lip for a moment in thought. 

“I mean, you grew up here, and I never even knew you had a family until you suggested moving in here. I wouldn't want to intrude on any old memories-” Ratchet sat up in a hurry. 

“Drift. Nowhere could ever be weird with you. Because I love you. I thought of this house because you had said to me once you wanted space. If this isn't what you want i will pack up and leave tonight. I married you and that means I want you in all aspects of my life, past present and future. Nothing could change that.” Ratchet cupped the side of Drift’s face and looked into his golden eyes. 

“I mean it kid. I want you here. I want you to be happy.” Drift surged into Ratchets strong arms. 

“Oh ratty,” Drift took in the scent of Ratchet. Cologne and wood and something hospital that never quite disappeared. 

“I can think of a few ways to make new memories-” he whispered in his lovers ear before placing an open mouth kiss on the side of his neck. 

“You are insatiable.” Ratchet teased as he slid his hands under the hem of Drift's t-shirt to grip the slender hips underneath. 

“I'm going to fill every room of this house with memories of you.” he purred as he thumbed Drift’s waistband. 

First Ratchet took Drift right there on the floor of the living room, Drift slung over the fallen couch. Then they consecrated the hallway up against both walls. It was late evening before they made it to the bedroom, finishing the night slow and sweet. The next morning Drift sucked Ratchet dry in the shower, hot steam encompassing them. Ratchet then returned the favor by devouring drugs as he lay splayed out on the kitchen table. Over the desk in the office, against the shelves in the pantry, they even left peculiar patterns in the dusty attic. They got very little work done that day. Finally as evening fell for the second night in their new home, Ratchet sat on the back porch rocker, Drift seated in his lap. Ratchet was struck with the beauty of his lover silhouetted by the last light of murky twilight against a backdrop of a wooded yard and framed by the porches' support pillars. After they had finished Drift sat slumped against Ratchet's broad chest. Panting. Ratchet smoothed his hands up and down Drift’s muscled shoulders, soft and content.

“I think,” Drift sighed as fireflies began to wink on and off around them, “I think we are going to be very happy here.

[mamaskillerqueen]

Beautiful Crazy || Ben Hardy x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hi! So my brother played this song for his wife the other day at a party we had and I immediately fell in love with it. The song is called Beautiful Crazy by Luke Combs (I think... I’m not a big country fan so I may have that artist wrong) Anyways, I was inspired so here is this thing. Warnings: I don’t think anything... Word Count: 2097

Her day starts with a coffee

The first thing he saw as his eyes peeled open was her smile. She leaned over him, pressing kisses into his cheek, jaw, and neck. Her attempt to wake him was successful and the winning smile could have nearly melted his heart. One day he would figure out how he got so lucky.

“Good morning, love.”

His voice was raspy and thick with sleep, making her giggle before leaning in to place another kiss to his lips quickly.

“Good morning. I’ve already made coffee. Come have breakfast with me.”

He could never turn her down to their morning dates. She couldn’t head off to work without them.

And ends with wine

The door swung open with a sigh, Ben could even hear it from the kitchen where he was making them dinner. Stepping away from the stove he pulled her favourite wine glass from the cabinet and the bottle of white they just opened the night prior.

He had just gotten home from filming and they decided to celebrate with a bottle he brought home from France. She had practically moaned as the flavour spilled over her tongue. The memory brought a smile to his lips even before her arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

Her cheek rested on his shoulder and a huff of air she blew out could be felt through his shirt. She had a long day, he didn’t need to be told to figure that out. With the hand that wasn’t busy preparing their dinner, he grabbed hers and unlocked them so he could pull her around to face him.

“Welcome home, Y/N.”

He was quick to lean in and kiss her lips. It had been far too long since he’d seen her this morning. After being away for so long, finally getting to come home to her, just for her to leave most of the day wasn’t ideal.

“I got the wine out, and your glass.”

Her eyes lit up and that beautiful smile turned her lips up. His heart still raced every time she flashed that at him. If he was honest, he hoped it never stopped. Turning his attention back to dinner, he watched from the corner of his eye while she poured a generous amount in her glass.

She took a small sip and let out a contented moan at the taste, he assumed. Probably finally being able to sit down as well. When he cooked she always perched herself up on the counter beside him, watching what he was doing. When they first started dating she couldn’t cook a thing and so he taught her. It still seemed to fascinate her that he was as good in the kitchen as he was.

“You. Me. Bubble bath after dinner.”

She announced it as soon as they sat down at the dinner table and he couldn’t help but chuckle while nodding in agreement. He would do anything she asked.

She takes forever getting ready so she’s never on time for anything

“We have to go now, Y/N..”

The woman in question was still in their shared closet trying to decide what to wear. Her hair and make up had been done to perfection almost an hour and a half ago. He had told her to pick something last night, knowing full well they would be late if she didn’t.

“I’m almost ready!”

She called back, her voice muffled from hopefully getting dressed. He huffed a sigh as he took a seat on their bed and checked the time on his phone for the millionth time. They were supposed to be at the restaurant right now. Even if they left this very second it would take another twenty minutes to drive there.

“Y/N!! If you don’t pick something right now I’m picking it for you!”

Just as he was finishing his sentence she stepped out of the closet while adjusting the straps to her red dress. She looked stunning and his previous annoyance was forgotten for a moment. He rose from the bed and took the two strides towards her. Placing his hands on her hips he leaned down to her ear and whispered about how amazing she looked.

A giggle left her lips and she reached up to carefully place a kiss on his jaw before wiping off the red lip stick that was left behind.

“We have to go, remember?”

And he did, so he grabbed her hand and rushed them out the door. The guys were gonna be so mad that they were late for this dinner.

Beautiful, crazy, she can’t help but amaze me The way that she dances, ain’t afraid to take chances

The dinner had gone well, and he was pleasantly surprised to see his old cast mates turned friends didn’t care at all that they arrived late. Laughs were shared, good news spread as they all discussed the new roles coming their way. Throughout the entire dinner, her hand never left his. Even as they ate. Joe made sure to tease them for that.

Perhaps one of the most incredible things about his girlfriend was her ability to take a joke and deliver one right back. Her witty comebacks at Joe had him turning up his teasing to ‘maximum effort’. Ben was continuously amazed at her speedy replies and her subsequent laugh.

Standing outside of the restaurant they all decided they weren’t ready for the night to be over. The chilly air was raising goosebumps on Y/N’s arms though, so he shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her. They got left behind a bit as the others continued towards the club Lucy was adamant about them going to dance at. Unable to stop himself he gave her a chaste kiss before they both rushed off to catch up, laughing the whole way.

He was stood at the bar, watching as she and Lucy danced all over the dance floor. It was a week night, summer reluctantly coming to a close so the club was rather empty. Neither of them had a care in the world. Again, he was struck by how lucky he was and how absolutely incredible the woman he called his girlfriend was.

And wears her heart on her sleeve

The evening had been filled with a lot of drinking and so he knew the morning was going to be a rough one. What he didn’t expect was to be woken up by the sound of the blender at 8:00 in the morning. With a groan he got out of bed, shuddering a bit as his feet hit the cold wooden floor before padding out to the kitchen.

Her face was set in stone and he could see that she’d been crying. To say he was confused would be an understatement. She was never one to hide her feelings. If they were hurt, she let you know. He actually quite admired that about her. Vulnerability was not his strong suit.

“Y/N...?” he asked but was met with silence. “Love?”

She still didn’t say a word and so he came up behind her, placing one hand on her hip to pull her into his chest and the other reached out to turn off the blender. When there wasn’t any protest he turned her around so she was facing him. Her gaze remained in his chest until he used a finger to lift her chin.

“What is it, love?”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, still trying to avoid his gaze. He wracked his brain in an attempt to remember if he’d done something wrong last night. Coming up with nothing he sighed.

“I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“There’s nothing to fix.”

Her tone was cold and clipped. Whatever happened wasn’t good. In the years that they’d been together he had never once heard her this upset, and she wasn’t exactly the most emotionally stable woman he’d ever met.

“Y/N...”

“I answered your phone call this morning...”

She finally caved with a heavy sigh, making him crinkle his brow. He didn’t remember hearing the phone ring. Not to mention, who would call him at 8 in the morning? She must have noticed his confusion because she began to elaborate without prompting.

“It was an number you didn’t have saved and so I thought it might be important. They woke me up at the crack of dawn so it must be important. Instead it was some woman who immediately asked who she was speaking to and where you were and when I said I was your girlfriend they hung up.”

Throughout her recollection of the call she grew more upset, tears filling at the brim. His heart ached in his chest knowing where her mind had gone. He knew she trusted him, and he knew that if he’d answered her phone first thing in the morning to another man he’d be upset too. Carefully taking her face in his hands he swiped at the lone tear trekking down her cheek.

“Love, I have no idea who that could have been but I promise you, you are it for me.”

His words didn’t seem to stick because she tilted her head down and stepped away from him. He felt his world shattering. She disappeared into their bedroom but only for a moment. When she returned his phone was in her hand.

“Do you recognise the number?”

He did.

He was sure the colour drained from his face. The conversation made sense now. The woman hung up because she was the jeweller he’d been in touch with for the last few months. She was the woman designing Y/N’s engagement ring, and she must have panicked when she figured out who she had been speaking to.

“So you do recognise it then.”

It was a question. He could practically hear the heart break in her voice.

“It’s not what you think... you have to believe me, love.”

When she scoffed he knew he had to ruin the surprise.

“Call it. Put it on speaker phone. I promise you, it’s not what you think, Y/N.”

When the woman answered the phone, stating who she was and where she worked he watched the love of his life lit up like a Christmas tree. She quickly hung up the phone, guilt over taking her features.

“I am so sorry, Ben... I overreacted. I-I... oh my god.”

She had turned around so she wasn’t facing him, hiding her face in her hands. The embarrassment was clear in the way she stood but last night he realised he was tired of waiting. Tired of calling her his girlfriend. She felt like so much more than that.

“Y/N... turn around please.”

He had dropped to one knee behind her and when she turned and saw him her hands moved again to her face, this time covering her mouth. He could have sworn he heard a little gasp of ���oh my god’.

“Y/N... you’re absolutely crazy. Some may even say insane. Honestly, who wakes up first thing in the morning with a smile.. unless they’re a deranged killer.”

The sound of her laughter made his heart swell. The tears on her eyes encouraging him to keep going.

“And yet, you’re the most beautiful person I have ever met. Inside and out. You’ve made me a better man just by being the wonderful woman you are. You’re constantly amazing me. You’re unpredictable, and unforgettable. I never want to live a life where I don’t get to come home to you.”

She had dropped to her knees in front of him and he couldn’t help but reach out for her. His hands reached up to remove hers from her face. There was never a time where he would be okay with her hiding it from him. Especially in this moment.

“I don’t have the ring yet.. I had a huge luxurious night out planned. This feels more like us though.”

He smiled when she nodded in agreement, seemingly still too shocked to say actual words. His heart was racing in his chest, while every bad thought rushed through his head. Like her saying no. But she wouldn’t. He knew she wouldn’t. Why was he so nervous now?

“Y/N... will you please do me the honour of making me the happiest man on this planet and agree to marry me?”

His answer came in the form of a kiss... that quickly lead to a passionate love making session on their kitchen floor.

Yeah, she’s crazy, but her crazy is beautiful to me

[badwolf-in-the-impala]

~Where the Wild Rose Grow~

~Chapter 7~

((Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6))

Image Credit: Myself, none of the pictures are mine obviously. Just the editing

Inspiration: Colors - Halsey

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature/18+

Warnings: PTSD, Drug use, Alcohol use, mentioned physical/sexual abuse, violence, angst, sexual content. 

Chapter Warnings: Drinking, fluff, little bit of angst.

Word Count: 4,723

A/N: Sorry I suck and haven’t updated this story in like...forever. I seriously fail at trying to get my shit together so I can finishes these fics...please don’t hate me lol.

-------------------------------------

When Althea awoke the following morning Tommy had already gone. Leaving behind in his place a very cryptic note scrawled in that immaculate handwriting of his. He apologized for his absence but he had business elsewhere that morning that needed attending to; but that she was welcome to stay as long as she liked. Even offering her the day off if she wasn’t feeling up to it.

Althea heaved a small sigh as she placed piece of paper on the nightstand and pushed the covers back; sitting up as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. With a small stretch, she turned her head to glance out the window, noting that the sun was actually shining for once; a rare occasion. Her eyes widened slowly as realization suddenly struck her at how late she had actually slept as she noticed just how high the sun had risen.

Climbing off the bed she padded her way across the cold, hardwood floor, as she approached the large clock that sat atop the mantel above the fire. Checking and then double checking to make sure it was working properly when she saw that the time was well past eight in the morning.

Most days, since returning home from the War, she didn’t sleep any later than four in the morning, so this was an unusual occurrence indeed. But she didn’t have the time to dwell for long on the issue before a loud knock at the door grabbed her attention, instantly putting her on edge.

“It’s jus’ me!” A woman’s voice chirped cheerily, followed by a short pause, then by a few choice profanities as she chastised herself before adding, “I mean, it’s Ada!” Althea chuckled softly, the slip up helping to ease some of the tension as she crossed the room and opened the door slowly.

“Good morning!” Ada beamed brightly as she waltzed into the room, passed Althea, to the table where she set the tray she had been carrying and few other items in her arms down before turning around with a smile.

“Um, morning?” Althea turned with a quizzical expression as she allowed the door to fall shut behind her, eyeing the items Ada had brought with her, curiously.

“I didn’ wake you, did I?” Ada apologized quickly as she turned back to the tray and began pouring them each a cup of tea, offering Althea one of the cups once she had finished. “Thomas asked if I’d bring some things by.”

“No, it’s quite alright.” Althea replied, taking a quick sip from her cup before finishing, “I was already up.”

“Oh good.” Ada breathed a sigh of relief before taking her own sip of tea and returned the cup to the table. She then gestured for Althea to have a seat as she began pulling out a collection of fresh medical supplies to change the bandage on Althea’s arm. “Heard you had quite the afternoon yesterday?”

“Suppose I did.” Althea gave a soft laugh, watching as Ada rolled back the sleeve and began slowly undoing the bandage from Althea’s left forearm.

“Christ!” Ada breathed, eyes widening as she stared at the neatly sutured wound. “How are’ye not in pain?!” Althea simply shrugged in reply, taking a sip from her tea, as Ada gently began to clean around the wound again before applying more salve and redressing it with a fresh bandage.

“I’ve suffered worse.” Althea replied with a sad smile once Ada was through. Her hand instinctively drifting to her right shoulder for a brief moment; fingers probing tentatively at the scars that lie covered beneath Tommy’s shirt that she wore. “Anythin’ else pales in comparison, really.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine.” Ada stated softly as she tidied up the dirty bandages, disposing of them before returning to her seat to finish her tea. A comfortable silence fell over them as they listened to the bustling streets below, just outside the window.

“Oh! ‘Fore I forget,” Ada spoke suddenly, startling Althea as she jumped a little, startled by the suddenness of Ada’s voice, turning to watch as Tommy’s sister grab up a bag from the floor and pass it over; Althea taking it carefully. “Tommy had me grab ya some clean clothes from ye’re flat on my way over...I hope tha’s alright?”

“Of course.” Althea gave her a smile to reassure that she appreciated the kindness of the gesture. “Thank you, Ada.”

“Think nothin’ of it.” Ada replied sweetly. “An’ I was thinkin’, tha’ maybe if you weren’t busy, an’ needed a lil company today? Maybe we could do a bit of shoppin’, or visit the new Tea House tha’ jus’ opened? Doesn’ have to be anythin’ fancy … I mean, it would be a nice change from hangin’ aroun’ with Aunt Pol.” She chuckled nervously. “But obviously, it’s one hundred percent up to you.

Althea thought about it for a moment, considering the offer carefully as she finished her own cup of tea. On one hand, she probably should get some work done today; spend some time at the stables at the very least...But Tommy had offered her the day off, and it had been a great deal of years since she had actually spent time with another woman. At least doing anything that didn’t involve the tending of wounded soldiers, that it is.

“On second thought, forget I said anythin’.” Ada started to dismiss the offer nervously when Althea stopped her, reaching across the table to rest a hand on her arm reassuringly as she gave the younger woman a smile.

“Tha’ sounds like a lovely idea.”

~

It was late, somewhere around 7 o’clock  in the evening, before they were finally headed back for the Garrison. Tommy’s business having taken much longer than he originally intended when the day first started. But then again, making deals with Gypsies was never easy ‘business’, and now the entire day was all but wasted, along with any plans he had hoped to make that included Thea. Sighing heavily to himself as he drove, he could only hope at this point that she may have taken Ada up on her offer of spending the day together, out doing whatever it is women consider ‘fun’ these days.

He also couldn’t help it as his mind started to drift back to the previous night. Sharing his bed with the same woman in question; not intimately of course. But it had proven to be a welcome change of pace for him. One that he couldn’t help but long to repeat again, hopefully sometime in the near future.

While he still hadn’t managed to quite achieve a full night's sleep, it was for much different reasons. Better reasons, so to speak, and when he did finally manage to drift off, he did so peacefully into dreamlessness. No smoke, no whiskey, no sex...Just the genuine comfort of lying beside someone who understood his soul. Even if she wasn’t yet aware of it. Just being in her presence seemed to somehow seemed enough to put him at ease. But no matter how hard he tried to wrap his mind around it, he just couldn’t figure it out.

“Oi!” The sound of Arthur’s voice snapped Tommy from his thoughts. Glancing at his brother from the corner of his eye as he drove, acknowledging him with a soft ‘Hm?’, before turning his attention back to the road. “The fucks y’er head at, Tommy boy?”

“Nowhere.” Tommy replied bluntly.

“Lemme guess,” Arthur mused as he shifted in his seat, staring at Tommy intently, as he studied his brothers seemingly blank expression closely. “Thea?”

“Shut up, Arthur.” Tommy gave him a warning glare.

“So I am right?!”

“Drop it.” Tommy repeated.

“Aw, c’mon Tom. Ye gotta give me somethin’ta go on ‘ere. Did ya sleep wit-”

“I said’ta fuckin’ drop it.” Tommy snapped, cutting Arthur off in a harsh tone. “Now shut the fuck up ‘fore I kick ya outta the Goddamn car.”

“Christ, Tom, I’m fookin’ jokin’. Don’t go gettin’ y’er knickers in a knot.” Arthur huffed out, but as requested he dropped the subject. Leaving the last remaining half hour of their drive completely silent. Arthur all but a little too relieved as they pulled up outside of the Garrison finally.

“Let’s jus’ hope John boy ain’t wrecked the place, eh?” Arthur grumbled as they climbed out of Tommy’s automobile and began to approach the doors of the Pub; both pausing to exchange a confused look at the strange commotion that was coming from within. Something that sounded an awful lot like a chorus of singing.

“Wha’ in the bloody ‘ell--”

Tommy followed close behind as Arthur burst through the doors, shoving their way into the Pub a ways before stopping, stunned to find the place packed; more so than usual at least. Not a single empty seat to be found in the entire building as patrons gathered around, drinking, chatting, and singing. Something that seemed quite unusual indeed, and there at the center of the room, atop one of the tables, stood Althea; whiskey glass and cigarette in hand, the room suddenly falling silent as she began another song.

Her voice rising as the melody of ‘The Parting Glass’ began to fill the silence, the beauty of her voice quickly captivating the audience that stood before her, Tommy included. Completely enthralled as he leaned a shoulder against the wall beside him, his own words suddenly escaping him as he listened; though they flowed from Thea’s with such ease. Even despite how she swayed slightly, likely from a little to much drink.

They hadn’t had singing, of any kind, at the Garrison since the war, and normally Tommy would’ve put a stop to it right then and there. But as he stood, listening to the intoxicatingly beautiful sound of Thea’s voice, a sense of calmness washed over him. Leaving a strange warmth to settle in his chest, a foreign feeling not often felt by Thomas Shelby these days. Until he had met the woman standing before the entire room, that is.

The crowd was more than a little disappointed when Althea had finished her song -- Tommy included -- and announced that she was through for the evening before trying to climb down off the table. A look of surprise overtaking her soft features suddenly, as Tommy and Arthur suddenly appeared to offer her a hand down, her cheeks suddenly flushed red with embarrassment.

“Havin’ fun?” Tommy arched a brow as he started down at her, trying his best to hide the smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips. Althea cleared her throat awkwardly as she tucked her hair behind ear, before smoothing her hands down the front of her blouse, chasing away imaginary wrinkles as she gathered her composure.

“As a matter of fact-- I was.” Althea answered as she took her drink back from Arthur. Tommy chuckled and shifted as he said, “Usually we don’t allow singing in the bar anymore. ‘Least not since before the war.”

Althea turned down the corners of her mouth, puzzled and downed what remained of her whiskey. “Oh, really? Tha’s a shame. The men seemed to enjoy it.” She said, handing her empty glass back to Tommy, a sly grin creeping onto her lips as she turned and pushed her way back up to the bar where Ada stood, ordering another round of drinks.

“Aw, Christ, John boy!” Arthur shouted as they approached the bar. “Ye had one job!” All John could do at that point was throw his hands in the air with an exasperated look, as he tried to keep up with the flow of patrons demanding drinks.

“Eh, it’s n’ah his fault!” Ada hiccuped drunkenly as she rounded on Arthur. Althea reaching out to catch her by the arm as Ada lost her balance and nearly toppled over

“It’s really not.” Althea gave an amused laugh as she righted Ada, turning to grab their drinks with her left hand before guiding them back inside the safety of the private nook. “I, am unfortunately, the bad influence to blame ‘ere. We shoulda’ left hours ago.” Althea admitted sheepishly as she took a seat, carefully. The effects of all the alcohol they had consumed since being there, finally starting to catch up with her.

“Aunt Pol is gonna ‘ave y’er arse.” Arthur shook his head, but gave a laugh -- directed at Ada -- as he and Tommy took their own seats at the table. “How long ye been ‘ere?”

“Too fuckin’ long.” Althea and Ada answered in unison before dissolving into a fit of giggles. Tommy and Arthur shook their heads, but shared a chuckle of their own all the same as they joined in on the drinking; even if it didn’t last much longer. It eventually being decided upon that they should take Ada home, before she nodded off with her head on the table, and Aunt Pol skinned them all alive. Arthur agreeing to stay behind and help John finish up so that they could close and finish out what business needed to be handled at the Garrison -- after helping to get Ada into Tommy’s car. The group ignoring her drunken ramblings about being perfectly fine and not wanting to go home just yet.

And even though he would never admit it, Tommy would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed about having to call it a night so soon, as he had rather enjoyed getting to see this side of Althea. Seeing her out of her shell and so relaxed, was a welcome change from the more reserved facade she normally put on. Something Tommy knew all too well about. But the ride wasn’t a complete waste. While Ada sat in the back seat, nodding off in her drunken state, Althea sat close to Tommy, her head on his shoulder with her eyes closed. Every now and then, Tommy glanced down at her and smirked to himself. Before he could shift and put an arm around her, Ada suddenly came to life, making both Althea and Tommy jump, before Ada launched into more drunken ramblings with Althea. In between words, Thea and Tommy exchanged glances and secret smiles gone undetected by Ada. Althea still sat close to Tommy and after a while, Tommy shifted to slide his hand over her thigh, raising her skirt slightly. Her cheeks tinted pink, even more than they were already from being drunk, and she slowly slid her hand over his, slightly lacing their fingers together. Tommy smirked and glanced down at her.

As they pulled up to the house, Polly was waiting for them, arms crossed, cigarette lit, and pissed. Tommy and Althea, both, tried to explain, but Polly waved them both off and escorted Ada up to a room and got her settled, leaving Tommy and Althea alone downstairs.

“Could’ve gone worse…” Tommy chuckled softly as he turned his attention away from the stairs, crossing the living room to the whiskey decanter where he poured a glass and offered it to Thea, who graciously accepted. Taking a few sips before setting it aside as she watched him pour a glass second for himself.

“Aye…” Althea chuckled as she took a sip from her glass. “I pity poor Ada in the mornin’, though. If Pol doen’ smother her in her sleep first.”

“Ah, she’ll be fine.” Tommy shrugged with a smirk, his icy gaze drifting down to meet Althea’s, the room falling silent again as he leaned up against the table behind him. His gaze watching intently as Althea glanced away briefly, chewing her lip lightly as though she were suddenly lost in thought. A good minute or two had passed when Tommy finally set his glass down and moved to see if she was alright. His fingertips just barely grazing her shoulder as Thea turned, suddenly, and without warning; her lips crashing into his.

It was something that caught Tommy a little off guard at first, causing him to stumble backwards a few steps before regaining his balance, as he slipped an arm around her waist, keeping them steady, allowing his other hand to slide up and caress her cheek. His thumb stroking lazily against her cheek as he returned the kiss; lips moving gently in tandem with her own.

The kiss started out slow and soft, but quickly became more urgent and passion filled as Thea parted her lips, allowing Tommy the access he desired as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, moving it freely against her own as her hands reached up to grip the lapels of the trench coat he still wore; pulling him closer. Tommy’s own hands drifting down to grip her waist as she pressed herself against him, a soft moan escaping her throat. It quickly replaced by a low whimper of disapproval as Tommy broke the kiss, leading her upstairs quickly.

Once the door to his room was shut and locked behind them, Tommy’s lips were quick to reattach themselves to Thea’s, as her hands began to make quick work of removing him of his trench coat, blazer, and shirt. His own hands moving to hike up her shirt as he picked her up, hooking her legs around his waist as he backed her into the dresser that sat against the opposite wall, setting her atop it as he settled between her thighs. Tommy’s fingers drifting to the buttons of her blouse as he trailed his lips along her jaw and down her throat, settling over the sweet spot between her neck and collarbone as he sucked lightly on the sensitive skin, reaching a hand up to palm one of her breasts, through her brasserie as he finished undoing her blouse and pushed it open, earning a moan of approval from Althea as she tipped her head back. Tommy’s teeth grazed across her pulse point as her nails scraped over the finely shorn hairs at the base of his skull; tugging him closer. The action prompting Tommy to return his lips to Althea’s, deepening the kiss once more as he pushed the blouse from her shoulders, allowing the fabric to slip down her arms slowly before casting it aside. The tips of his fingers ghosting over her skin, as they trailed down her waist, hands settling on her hips as tugged her closer.

Thea’s own hands settled on either side of Tommy’s face gently, as she lost herself completely in the kiss they shared. A soft moan escaping her as a rush of pleasure pulsed through her veins,  the same way a wildfire burns through a forest. The walls and defenses she worked so hard to keep up around herself on a daily basis, seeming to all but fade away. Tommy’s touch seeming to ground every bad thing that stirred inside of her; quieting the war inside of her mind, the same way it did his. She had spent so much of her time and effort trying to distance herself from her emotions...Starved from happiness, starved from feeling.

But there was something that woke, deep down inside of her, stirring slowly back to life with every small touch of Tommy’s hands against her bare skin. Reminiscent of how a Rose wakes from its slumber in Springtime; finally blooming after enduring a harsh and seemingly endless Winter. Flourishing once more under the warm caress of the Sun…

And it was Tommy’s touch that finally brought Althea out of her thoughts and back to the present situation, as his hand slipped gently across her right shoulder. Reminding her of the scars that lie scattered across her body, now fully exposed by the absence of her blouse. Althea blushed out of embarrassment as she broke the kiss, abruptly, turning away in an attempt to hide herself as she hunched inward and crossed her arms protectively over her chest. Allowing her dark curls to fall across her shoulder and shield the scars that lie there. A sudden wave of anxiety and shame creeping in on her out of nowhere.

Her heart began to race frantically inside her chest as she wracked her brain for a way out of the situation at hand, about to speak some half-assed excuse and flee, when she was stopped buy the feeling of Tommy’s fingers grasping her chin softly; forcing her to look up and meet his eyes. Finding that icy blue gaze of his filled with solace and understanding, instead of pity or disgust, like she had expected. The simplicity of the gesture causing tears to well in her own eyes, which she was quick to try and hide; cursing her emotions, and the alcohol that had brought them to the surface.

“Eh, none of that now.” Tommy assured softly, despite the usual roughness of his voice, as he reached up to brush away her tears. Althea leaning into his touch, careful to avoid his gaze, as he stroked a calloused thumb against her cheek, she closed her eyes and gave a soft sigh.

“‘M sorry.” She muttered softly, now that she was coming down off the high of Tommy’s touch, her drunken state tried to slip back in, her walls and defenses slowly putting themselves back in their rightful places. She opened her eyes when she heard Tommy chuckle, softly, the light, yet deep rumble rushing through her. She finally looked at him again and gave him a soft smile as Tommy brushed away the stray tears, pushing his hand along her skin to push back the curls that had sprung forward.

“Don’ apologize, love. You can talk to me.” He said, softly. Althea shook her head and pulled the mask over her features as she said, “It’s nothin’. Jus’ been a while, is all.” She lied.

“We don’t ‘ave to rush it, pet.” He said, letting his hand fall, slipping over her shoulder to hold her waist. A comfortable silence hung in the small space between them as Tommy leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers. Althea closed her eyes again and gave a breathy laugh before looking up at him, giving him a silent response. Tommy smiled and leaned back, taking a step away to help her off the dresser. Althea quickly grabbed her blouse and tugged it on, buttoning it up. Tommy kicked off his shoes before he lit a cigarette, watching as Althea took a seat on the edge of his bed, removing her own shoes before curling up against the pillows. Tommy joining her once he had finished his smoke, shifting to get comfortable as she rested her head against his chest. Not another word was spoken between them as they lay there. Althea comforted by the warmth of Tommy’s embrace, and his touch, as his fingers stroked lazy patterns against her arm. Lulling her into relaxation, and eventually, sleep.

~

Tommy woke up alone the following morning...Seeming like Thea had taken her chance and snuck off, not wanting to face the reality of what had happened between the two of them last night. He had hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but he knew better, and the guilt of feeling like he had taken advantage of her in such a vulnerable state, weighed heavy on his mind as he set about getting ready for the day. Making his way down to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee and some toast before heading off to the betting shop; stopping as he rounded the corner to find Althea sitting at the table with Aunt Pol, and a very hungover Ada.

“Mornin’.” Polly said, turning away from her conversation with the girls to acknowledge Tommy’s presence. Brow raised and a soft smirk fixed to her lips as she took a sip of her coffee, watching as he passed by her, stone faced, to the stove behind her. Grabbing his coffee and toast, consuming it in silence as the Pol and the girls resumed their conversation, something about new Tea Room that had just recently opened.

“Headed to the Betting Shop?” Polly asked as Tommy made to leave the kitchen, pausing briefly to give a nod as replied, “Aye.” The answer was followed by a moment of silence as Polly took another sip of her coffee, Tommy turning to leave when Althea’s voice stopped him.

“Would ye mind droppin’ me at the Garrison?” She asked softly as she looked up, not quite meeting his gaze as he watched her, trying to gauge her expression; but it was guarded, as usual.

“Of course.” Tommy gave a nod, waiting a moment longer -- ignoring the looks from Aunt Pol and Ada -- while Althea gathered her things. Giving him a soft smile once she had finished and was ready to go, turning to thank Polly for her hospitality once again. Polly simply waved it off with a smile.

“No need. You’re welcome anytime.” Polly’s gaze drifted over to Tommy briefly, his patience thinning as he continued to ignore her, which only amused her further. “Off with ya both, then. Best not be late. Arthur was in a hellava mood this mornin’.” Tommy didn’t have to be told twice as he turned and ushered Althea out the door, and into the car, before Polly’s gaze could burn a hole straight through his skull...The awkward silence on the ride to the Garrison not doing much in the way of helping his mood any; stuck in his head, obsessing over his thoughts, and it wasn’t hard to miss. Althea watching him closely the entire ride, Tommy never once taking notice, as she remained quit until they were inside the Garrison.

“Thomas?” Tommy glanced up from the ledger he had been skimming through, looking over to find Althea standing beside him, just a few feet away; hands clasped in front of her, patiently awaiting his full attention before continuing. “About las’ night...I wanted to apologize-”

Tommy raised a hand, stopping her before she could finish. “You’ve no need to apologize...You we’re drunk, an’ I shouldn’t of takin’ advantage like I did...It won’ happen again. You ‘ave my word-”

“That’s not wha’ I meant.” Althea chimed in, cutting him off with an awkward giggle as she glanced away, trying to hide the blush that tinted her cheeks,which earned her a rather confused look from Tommy before she cleared her throat softly and continued; green eyes fixing to his as she turned. “I meant abou’ the scars...How I shut down. That’s wha’ I’m apologizin’ for. Me bein’ drunk had nothin’ to do with it...I mean, did it make braver, in a sense? Probably. But it doesn’ make me regret a second of anythin’ else tha’ happened between us last night.” She finished softly, her gaze falling to the floor as she looked away from him again. His own gaze having become so intense -- his expression unreadable-- that it started to make her saying anything at all.

But that changed as Tommy stepped forward and grasped her chin lightly, raising it to bring her gaze back to his own, and while his features were still hard to read, that icy gaze of his had softened considerably. “Ye don’ have to apologize.” He assured her softly, running his thumb just beneath her lower lip; tracing it almost. Althea instinctively leaning into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for moment as she let out a soft sigh, composing her thoughts.

“I feel like a do, though.” She admitted softly. “For wha’?” Tommy questioned curiously as he stared down at her.

“For bein’ so broken...You don’ deserved tha’...No one does.” Althea admitted, attempting to pull away. Surprised when Tommy pulled her forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips before resting his forehead against her own; his hands resting gently on either side of her face as she stared up at him, her own features slightly twisted with confusion by his reaction.

“Ye’r not the only one who’s broken.” Tommy stated, pulling away from their embrace and closing the ledger on the bar, just as the front door of the Garrison flew open and Arthur came storming in; madder than a wet hen and shouting nonsense. Althea watching, brows furrowed and fingers pressed against her lips gently. The sensation of Tommy’s kiss still lingering, as she watched them leave without another word.

-----------------------------------------

Let me know if you would like to added to the taglist, or if I missed anyone...or if anyone’s usernames have changed. It’s been so long since I updated my shit. **laughs nervously** I’m sorry I’m like this.

TAGLIST: @jacksonroth @londoncharlotte88 @liiv0urlifee @theworld-is-ahead @zazasblogxx @readsalot73 @ly--canthrope @harjumus @theskinofmyemotions @sympathyfortheblinderdevil @juuliaa-gooliaa @feyrearcheron44

[rulers-of-night]

Finding My Way To You

Chapter 9 is a bit of a short one and it also draws on inspiration from chapter 30 in acomaf. I am also rearranging some of the events in the acotar series to work with my plot line. I hope you like it!

Feyre is in a toxic and pretty shitty relationship with her boyfriend Tamlin. The same boyfriend couldn’t be bothered dropping her home one night from a party she was dragged to and ended up having to walk home. Feyre pissed off and cold wonders home at some ridiculous time in the morning when the people she meets are less than pleasant. Faced with a potential rapist Feyre runs to a house, hoping anyone will give her safety. I wonder who lets her in? Who does she meet?

Chapter 1 . Chapter 2 . Chapter 3 . Chapter 4 . Chapter 5 . Chapter 6 . Chapter 7 . Chapter 8 . Chapter 9 . Chapter 10 . Chapter 11 . Chapter 12 . Chapter 13 . Chapter 14 . 

“Feyre, where have you been all week?” Cassian said, a wicked grin on his face. That was until he saw the look of pain and anger set on mine. “Hard?” he asked, knowing exactly why I had shown up today and not blown it off like I had for the past week. I just nodded and began to settle into the warm up we usually did before class, trying to let the simple exercises numb the rage that was boiling underneath my skin. I felt out of control and I wanted – needed – something to settle me, to centre me before I lost it completely. I envied how happy he was all the time and he always knew what to do and say. He was special, and he didn’t even know how much he meant to me – how much I needed him at that moment.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he offered, his eyes expressing concern. “No, I’m fine,” I said, however, we both knew it was a lie. I wouldn’t have come here this morning if it were true. 

“Okay, fine is good – fine is great.” His hands coming up to his face as I finished strapping my hands and relaxed into a defensive position, one I had become very familiar. That’s when he noticed the ring – that damned emerald engagement ring that represented Tamlin, not me. That ring was nothing like what I wanted. Did he even know what I wanted anymore? “Congrats,” he said, pointing at my left hand. I clenched my jaw and brought my hands up, ready to spar. 

“Thirty one-two punches; then forty; then fifty,” he said noticing the way I clammed up at the mention of my recent engagement. 

I let out a breath and was glad this would keep my mind busy, I couldn’t think of last night otherwise I would breakdown and I couldn’t let Cassian know why. He would then tell Rhys and I couldn’t stand the guilt that was building inside of me – it was his sister’s artwork. I just needed to keep my mind as occupied as possible. 

My fist slammed into Cassian’s sparring pad, snatching back as fast as a snake as I struck with my right, shoulder and foot twisting.

“One,” Cassian counted. I struck again, letting my body fall into the movements, letting my muscles ache and burn as I continued to strike over and over again.

Why did Tamlin lose it at me like that? I had stood by him through it all, when his parents died in that gang fight, when his brothers abandoned him after they found out his father had left the company to him, the youngest of three. I had been there for him, even when I had plans I had changed them and been there. I had never once betrayed his trust, I had never snapped at him like this – damaged something he loved, and I loved that painting. I enjoyed spending time with Rhys. I finally had someone else to talk to and he did this to me, out of jealousy or ignorance I didn’t know.

My brow creased in concentration, sweat sliding down my back and forehead as I struck again and again. 

What had I done to be treated like this? Did I deserve this? When I had woken up in the hospital after Amarantha ran me off the road it had been him, sitting there holding my hand, so why was it now he seemed to not care for me – or that he cared too much. It was becoming unbearable, but I couldn’t talk to him about that yet. He had yelled at me so viciously I barely recognised him. And when I checked my phone this morning there was no sorry text or missed calls. Tears began running down my face, both in frustration and defeat but I kept striking, kept the rhythm of the punches because if I was to stop then I really would crumble. 

That painting, a piece of Rhys and his beloved sister, was lying there smashed on my living room floor. That art piece meant something to me, I had connected with it, but nothing I had said had stopped Tamlin from crushing it, just like he crushed me. The sound of the wooden frame breaking would haunt me for a long time. 

It was only when Cassian had been pushed up against the wall on the other side of the room, did I stop. I dropped my arms and looked at his face. “I’m all right,” he said quietly. I had pushed him against the wall, we had started sparring on the other side of the room and now here he was, against the opposite wall. 

I looked away from him, it was hard to make eye-contact. I couldn’t’ face him and I couldn’t face Rhys; not after this. 

“I have to go,” I whispered before turning, grabbing my bag and half sprinted, half-limped out of the building before Cassian could catch me. I couldn’t stand his concerning eyes and worrying demeanour. It was too much, this was all too much. How had I gone from being on top of the world to feel as if its entire weight was crushing me. But I had gotten what I came for, I truly did limp out of the gym and it felt great. . . .

I didn’t want to go home, not just yet. I couldn’t see that broken canvas or those walls that had witnessed me collapse to the floor after Tamlin left. Instead I let down all the windows of my car, the air blasting through, hair blowing back and forth, as I sped down the open road. My music was blasting, and I let it consume me. The beat of the music matching my beating heart. 

The ocean on my left sparkled in the glistening sunlight as I continued down the road. The trees on my right stood tall and observant as I sped past them. How I loved this part of Velaris. 

Faster and faster, I pushed my foot down on the accelerator. The speed of the car consumed me. I loved the feeling of being free. The weight of last night no longer pushed against my chest and I felt as if I could breathe freely. 

I inhaled deeply, the air calming my nerves as I collected myself bit by bit. Every beat of the music, every tweet of a bird, every crash of the water against the sand mended my heart that bit more. 

After an hour of driving down the coast and cruising through Velaris, I finally found my way back home. Determination set on my face as I had finally come up with an idea for my final artwork.

[reddeaddamnation]

Imagine: Being Ivar’s lost twin

Warning: Angst, homicide, reader is traumatized, reader is evil

Reader’s P.O.V.

I don’t remember much of my childhood. But what I do remember is my beloved twin brother - Ivar, with whom I was inseparable. Until someone horrible took him away from me. That someone was Aslaug. My own mother. 

Flashback: 

I pulled Ivar’s wagon as I walked. We were only children back then. I was always with him, I was his legs, as he couldn’t use his. He sat in it silently and watched our surroundings. There was a small group of children playing a ball game. Ivar moved forward and started pulling my sleeve. I looked at him, my gaze softening at the sight of him. “Do you think we can play with them?” he asked me. I smiled, nodding my head. So I started pulling the wagon towards the children. 

But things didn’t go as planned. The children started making fun of Ivar, making me furious. They started laughing, throwing the ball over Ivar’s head purposely, while he put all his effort in catching it. I couldn’t watch anymore. I jumped and caught the ball, glaring at everyone around me. I gave it to Ivar with a reassuring smile. The next moment one of the brats ran to him and tried to snatch the ball away from him and even pushed him. That made me lose my mind with anger. Nobody was allowed to treat my brother like that! I loved Ivar unlike any other of my brothers. Ubbe and Hvitserk rarely talked to me because they were busy with their own boyish things and I couldn’t stand Sigurd because I always thought he was unpleasant and mean. As for Björn, I rarely saw him, because he was older than us and could go on raids with our father Ragnar. 

The next minute I had pulled out the axe we keep in Ivar’s wagon for self defense. I swung it and struck the little brat lethally. Where...I don’t remember. The others screamed and ran away. I probably had a vicious look on my face because even the grown ups seemed frightened. “Why did you do that, Y/N?” I heard Ivar say. “Because nobody has the right to do that to you.” I answered, my expression softening. He didn’t seem impressed that much by what I just did. Then I felt someone grab me roughly by the arm and pull me away. I dropped the axe and reached for Ivar. “Monster! You’re the monster! It was you all along!” I heard my own mother’s voice, which shocked me. I didn’t know what monster she was talking about. “Get away from my son!” she screamed.

Then I saw uncle Floki go to Ivar with an expression of pure confusion and shock. I called him uncle Floki because he was like a father to me and Ivar. He picked up Ivar in his arms and ran after us. “What are you doing?!” he asked my mother. “It’s none of your concern! I have to keep this monster away from my son before she harms him!” she kept yelling. My arm was now in pain. “You can’t separate them!” uncle Floki warned “They are twins!”

“Just watch me.“ Aslaug hissed. I didn’t cry, even if I understand what she intended to do. I didn’t feel anything. Then she pushed me in a cart and yelled at someone to take me somewhere. I gritted my teeth, my fury returning, and grabbed Aslaug by the hair and pulled with all my force. She screeched and tried to get away from me, but that didn’t happen until I had pulled out a thick lock of her golden, wavy hair. “Ivar!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, but then the cart took off. I tried to jump off, but the man driving it grabbed me and kept me in place.

End of Flashback:

The rest of my childhood, I spent with a foster family, which was nice enough to take me in. I was a few villages away from Kattegat, but I didn’t really want to return there, because of Aslaug. If I ever see her again, I would have to kill her. I knew I was never her favorite. She cherished all of her other sons, but not me. She denied me everything and always neglected and pushed me away. But for some reason I still loved her, until she called me a monster and took my brother away from me. I haven’t seen Ivar since that horrid day and I missed him dearly. I always wondered how he was and what he was doing. 

I lived in the outskirts of this village, which made it easy for me to practice fighting and shooting with a bow. I always wanted to be a shield maiden, so I taught myself how to fight. Of course, everyone knew who I was and where I came from, but nobody dared say anything. They respected and feared me, because I was a princess. Ragnarsdottir. And I had the ambition to regain what was mine by right. Soon I gained the title “The cruel” or “The heartless” and I liked them both, because they inspire respect and fear. 

A day ago, a man from the village came to tell me something interesting. The Ragnarssons were coming this way. My heart skipped a beat because if that was true, I would finally see my twin again. I couldn’t sleep that very night because of anticipation. I wanted to know what they were here for. I woke up early because of that very same reason and I had nothing better to do than to target practice. 

I shot a few arrows and only just waited for my brothers to come. That was when I heard a noise of incoming footsteps. I smirked to myself and shot an arrow, which hit a tree right when one of my brothers came into sight. The arrow was just inches away from his head. He jumped back and pulled out his sword, looking around. He had long, dirty-blonde hair, a sparse beard and quite a childish face. A second man came into sight and I immediately recognized him as Björn Ironside. After all, who in all of Norway and Göteland wouldn’t know his face. He seemed to have noticed me and I smiled. “I’m sorry.” I yelled at them, as they were a bit far to hear me talk normally “I didn’t see you there.” I smirked again.

I sat with them near the fireplace of my home. My foster parents gave them food and drinks. I came to know them now. The one I nearly shot was Hvitserk. Ubbe had also changed alot. He became a man now. They all seemed glad to meet me again after all this time. All but Sigurd, of course. But what saddened me was that my twin was not with them.

“So, what brings you here after all this time?“ I asked. “We came to take you back.“ Björn answered, looking at me seriously. “Yes, Y/N. Mother misses you dearly.“ Ubbe continued, but I caught him lying. “If mother misses me so much she should have come get me herself!“ I snapped at him “And she would never have gotten rid of me in the first place.“ I downed the last of my ale and put my legs on the table. “And I suppose someone else stopped caring as well.“ I said, a sad note in my voice. Apparently they realized who I was talking about and Ubbe started explaining “Mother didn’t let him come. Trust me, he is dying to see you. He wanted to come with us with all his heart, but she said that his condition would slow us down and that it’s too dangerous for him to be so far away from home.“ he rolled his eyes in the end. I looked at them all one by one. Ubbe and Björn were looking at me expectantly, Sigurd was staring into the fire and Hvitserk was too busy with his food. I scoffed “Alright. I’ll come back with you. I miss my twin dearly. Tell me, is he getting better or is he still the same?“

We left early in the morning. I had said my goodbyes to the people who raised me with the promise to come visit them again. “So you never told me. How did Aslaug accept to send you to bring back the monster she wanted to stay away from.” I said in a mocking manner. “Well...” Ubbe bit his lip “It’s complicated...” I rolled my eyes and walked away from him, deciding to just go talk to Björn, “And what of Ragnar?” I asked him “What did she tell him about me? That I was dead? Lost?” Björn looked at me saddened “He cried, Y/N. I’m sure you know that I had a sister. Her death was hard to overcome. But when Aslaug lied about yours, he broke...Kept repeating that it’s his second daughter’s death.” he explained. “Then I can’t wait to go back and tell him I’m alive!” I said smiling. Then he put his hand on my shoulder and bit his lip. Something was off... “Y/N... He is gone. Nobody knows what happened to him.”

Kattegat was almost the same as I remember it. The buildings, the people... I was calm. I knew what to say and do when I step through the entrance and see the woman that neglected me all my life. I was excited to hug Ivar again and tell him how much I missed him after all these years.

I followed my brothers through the large doors and nostalgia hit me. It was just as I remember it. All the same. The room was large, with long tables and benches around them, there was a fireplace and the two thrones meant for the king and queen. On one of the thrones was sitting Aslaug and her intense gaze met with my glare. We didn’t say anything to each other. The tension building up fast and my brothers noticed it, ready to hold me back if necessary.

“Y-Y/N?“ I heard a male voice call my name quietly, almost with disbelief, not trusting his own eyes. My eyes widened and I turned around. I didn’t have to have heard the voice before to recognize who it belonged to. I turned around almost immediately and ran towards my beloved twin brother. He had just sat on one of the benches to greet me with a proper embrace. I threw myself in his arms and all the tears I had been holding back all this time came crashing down and I soon found out that I had soaked his tunic. I didn’t even care that everyone was watching. “I can’t believe it’s really you.“ he scoffed, smiling down at me. I smirked through the tears and teased “If I remember correctly, you aren’t blind.“ He laughed “I came back for you.“ I continued, smiling up at him “I came to see you. I’ve missed you so much!“

He was about to say something, but then Aslaug’s cold voice interrupted us. “Leave me to speak with my daughter alone.” And as if by signal, my four brothers left, leaving just me, Aslaug and Ivar, who didn’t want to let me go, nor did I - him. “That goes for you as well, Ivar.” Aslaug continued. “I want to stay.” he said, just as strictly. “I said -” she started, but I cut her off mid-sentence. “It’s alright, Ivar. We will catch up later.” I smiled reassuringly and let go of him to walk up to the queen of Kattegat. “Well.” I said coldly “What do you want to talk about?” She waited until Ivar crawled out of the building to rejoin his brothers, until she spoke. “I want to say a few things to you.” she said finally. 

I paced around in front of her and looked at her amused. “Things?” I repeated mockingly “Wait, I’m sure it’s me who has to say alot of things to you, not vice versa.” I paused “Like what kind of a mother would send her own child away all the while calling it the monster!” Her eye twitched. Apparently I hit a weak spot. “What monster were you talking about?!” I yelled. “I warned him. I warned your father not to force himself on me, or I will give birth to a monster. And my prophecy was true.” she said slowly. “At first everyone thought it was Ivar who was the monster because he is a cripple. But then you showed your true face.” she looked down on me. I scoffed with amusement “Oh, but mother. You gave birth to twins. Do you not know that twins are the two sides of the same coin?”

[bhaktapur]

8.1 - Climb for Hope

     Anna and I flew into Portland on a Wednesday evening.  We were scooped up at the airport by a guide with Rare Earth Adventures, the company that graciously donates their time and energy to Climb for Hope.  After a quick introduction, she loaded our hefty bags into the back of the van and mused, “I thought you guys were going to be older!”  Once we were deposited at the group’s homeshare, her comment started to make a bit more sense.  We were greeted by the three other members of the expedition, and all had a decade (or two!) on Anna and me.  Darkness was already descending on our suburban Washington backyard-for-rent, and we gathered around the furnished treehouse (a major selling-point on the Air BnB profile) to exchange pleasantries.  The air was thick with a tension not inappropriate between strangers about to entrust their lives to one another, and the weight of what we were about to attempt settled in a bit as we shared stories of past adventures.  Andy, the trip organizer, had attempted Rainier thrice and summited only once before.  The two other climbers had both tried, and failed, to reach the summit, once stuck in a tent for over 30 hours awaiting a lull in the weather that would never come.  On that particular trip, winds had blown a ladder into a crevasse, effectively cutting off the summit from an entire side of the mountain.  Facing this literally chilling possibility, Anna and I opted against the treehouse, and we settled into one of the upstairs rooms for the night.

     After a quick gear check in the morning, we loaded into a van and set out for the mountain.  The car ride offered us the first opportunity to really get to know the team with whom we would eat, sleep, suffer, and – hopefully – summit.  The trip was organized by Andy Buerger, a climber and entrepreneur out of Baltimore, whom I met - albeit briefly - through connections in the natural food industry.  He founded Climb for Hope after losing his sister Jodi to breast cancer, and expanded its mission after his wife and climbing partner was diagnosed with MS.  Andy struck me as a man of great emotional depth, though his busy mind seemed to hold this at bay much of the time.  He works incredibly hard to keep his symbiotic ventures chugging along, and was even caught sneaking work emails during our downtime at camp.  Possessing a wicked deadpan, Andy settled into the role of sarcastic diva for much of the trip, slinging outrageous insults and complaints at guides and climbers alike in a way that clearly said, “I’m genuinely happy we’re all here.”  Indeed, that seemed to be a general mantra for Andy, clouded only slightly by his survivor’s guilt, and his aura of gratitude helped remind us all that our suffering – both on the mountain and off it – was merely a window into the daily experiences of those who fight grave illness back home.

      Andy’s long standing climbing-partner-in-crime was Danny, a DC policy-worker able to switch breathlessly between discussions of eastern philosophy and the particular qualities of his selfie stick.  Self-deprecating, yet charming, sophomoric, yet wise, Danny was effortlessly easy to get along with no matter his mood or fancy.  He and Andy had the report of two long-since-graduated fraternity brothers, and were at the root of an ever-expanding ring of scatological pranks that would chase us up and down the mountain.  He seemed to be the unofficial marketing guru for Climb for Hope, and he worked doggedly to document the trip.  With equal gusto, he pursued both cheesy, Instagram-ready bits of content and one of the great challenges of the adventuring life: capturing the scale and beauty of what we do in the mountains in a way that inspires a love and respect for the natural world.

     The third, and oldest member of the expedition was Tiger, a boyishly energetic anglophile who imports small-batch craft cider from the UK.  Despite his gentlemanly inclination, he happily adopted the role of “Creepy Uncle Tiger” simply because it was so damn funny.  His gasping giggle was so infectious, his stories often left us all in hysterics, even if no one really understood what he had said.  Tiger - himself a cancer survivor - was fiercely dedicated to the cause, and carried photographs of friends and family fighting the disease back home.  He also carried a well-worn letter from his daughter, which he would discover for the first time described him as the strongest person she knew, not strangest, as he had happily assumed for over five years.  As we would discover, Tiger was both strong and strange, as well as perceptive, generous, and absolutely hilarious.

A rare moment on flat ground

     For our final night before undertaking the climb, we stayed just outside the gates of the National Park, in a wooden bunkhouse built by loggers in 1912.  Out of respect for the altitude and challenges that lay ahead, we resisted the temptation to settle our nerves with a beer, but despite dinner conversation revolving around the possibility of going ten days without a bowel movement, I devoured a mediocre burger without taking a breath.  Anna, on the other hand was slipping deeper into the world’s worst-timed cold, and scarcely ate.  We were both clearly worried over her worsening condition, but didn’t dare discuss the implications, so she loaded up on Nyquil and we settled down in our 4-person room for one final night on a proper bed.

     Rainier National Park is - deservedly - a huge tourist destination.  Temperate rainforest covers much of its area, dense with intricate ferns, large-leafed clover, and enormous nurse logs impossible to find in the heavily-logged areas that surround the park.  On our drive in, the forest would occasionally drop out from under us, and we would find ourselves on a winding bridge spanning a vast scar in the vegetation, canyons full of grey volcanic talus where the receding glacier had pulverized the landscape ages ago.  In most cases, water rushed through the middle of these canyons, carrying glacial melt down to Seattle, the Sound, and the Sea.  Rainier remained hidden for much of the approach, but once the titanic thing slipped into our view from behind the surrounding peaks, it was there to stay.  As we pulled into Paradise, the trailhead where we would begin our climb, Rainier drew our gaze with an almost supernatural force.  The mountain was tall - no doubt about that - but it was also wide, filling your entire field of view and almost seeming to wrap its imposing walls around you in embrace.  A few mountaineering teams were already beginning their push, but mostly Paradise was filled with day-use visitors, picnicking, snapping photos, and generally basking in the magnificence of Rainier’s singular presence here.  With this din casting an odd irreverence over the moment, the team exchanged some quiet words of encouragement, inspiration, and caution, then began up the trail.

All smiles at the trailhead

     Our objective for Day 1 was Camp Muir, and to my great surprise, a trail marker not 100 yards into our hike indicated that it was only 4.1 miles from the Paradise parking lot.  It helped to explain the crowded trail, full of day-hikers in shorts, sometimes carrying nothing more than a water bottle.  What a sight we must have been to these untroubled families, lumbering sternly upward, already sweating under the weight of packs so full of food, fuel, clothing, and shelter that axes, pickets, crampons, shovels and avalanche probes had to be strapped to the outside.  By nine, I began to worry that Anna and I had packed for the entirely wrong season.  I was wearing my lightest layers, a long-sleeved cotton tee and fully-taped Gore-Tex pants, and sweating mightily.  Still, the weather was undeniably incredible.  The slightest breeze rustled through the intertwined noble pines, and sloped meadows of wildflowers glowed under the morning sun.  Huge golden marmots loafed on rocks by the side of the trail and lumbered through the fields chomping on the purple blooms of lupine.  In their careless company, even the distant peak of Rainier seemed welcoming.

     Despite the short distance, the hike stretched on for hours.  Paved road gave way to packed dirt, then to rocky switchbacks, and then to slush.  At the foot of the Muir Snowfield, Anna and I were already exhausted.  The snow was soft enough that crampons were unnecessary, but this made for painfully slow progress under the weight of our equipment.  While many day-hikers had turned around at the snowline, some pressed on towards Camp Muir, the highest point on the mountain accessible without a wilderness permit.  Their light footfalls and happy chatter was brutally demoralizing as we trudged up the glacier, where the monotonous landscape deceived depth perception and seemed to stretch on endlessly.  Even worse were the whoops of delight from climbers on their descent, many of whom glissaded down well-traveled slides on tarps, stuff sacks, or even sleeping bags.  Anna in particular eyed the descending parties with envy, as the morning dose of pseudoephedrine was now long gone.  At about 9000 feet a few small structures came into view, and we pushed for camp with a renewed vigor.  Anna and I fell in step behind Tiger, who demonstrated a technique for “micro-resting,” pausing momentarily every third step to lock the knee in your back leg.  I didn’t find much rest this way, but the surprisingly difficult coordination of stepping, counting, and locking gave me something to think about besides the camp that seemed to draw no closer.

     At last, we crested the top of the ridge and arrived at Camp Muir.  10,080 feet above sea level, the camp sat at the south end of a large, rippling snowfield, speckled with rockfall and greyed with the volcanic dust that seemed to be everywhere at this height.  To the south, from whence we’d hiked, the forest stretched endlessly out towards the horizon.  Across the valley three large mountains stood in a neat line: Mount Adams, wide and glaciated, like Rainier’s slightly stunted cousin; Mount Hood, symmetrical and improbably steep, like the mountains a child would draw on an imaginary map; and Mount St. Helens, pointing her jagged crater directly at us, a warning to all who tempt fate in the shadow of Rainier (due to its proximity to Seattle and relatively high levels of geothermic activity, Rainier is considered one of the most dangerous volcanoes in the world).  We set about making camp for the night, flattening the snow with our avalanche shovels to make room for our tents, while the guides got to work boiling water.

Our intrepid guides, Brandon, Julie, and Cody

     Boiling water (or more specifically, boiling snow to make potable water) was a seemingly endless chore on the mountain.  Algae grows everywhere (generally invisibly, though pink “watermelon snow” is a common occurrence), and ingesting it is a sure path to digestive unhappiness.  Incredibly, the guides insisted on doing this work themselves, in particular Julie, who continued to surprise us with her ability for selflessness and empathy.  Freshly returned from non-profit work in Peru, Julie was an adventurous soul with a calm demeanor and easy smile.  As the only other female on the team, she was hugely supportive of Anna throughout, and indeed to us all.  She seemed to have a sixth sense for sniffing out a client in need, and was always ready with first aid, toilet paper, a snack, or simply a well-timed story when the crunching of snow underfoot was about to become unbearable.  Like the rest of the guides, she had an arsenal of horror stories skillfully spun to paint our climb as a tropical vacation and make us all feel like Navy SEALS in comparison.

     The lead guide on the expedition was an unassuming badass named Brandon.  As we would learn later, Brandon had left a lucrative career to care for his ailing wife, but he gave no indication of dissatisfaction.  In fact, he clearly thrived in the mountains, hiking tirelessly on hardly any food, bearing what was clearly the heaviest pack in the expedition.  He was quiet and patient, a stark contrast to the grim-faced corporate guides literally pulling their charges up the mountain, and described himself as risk-adverse.  Incongruous as this may seem for a professional alpine mountain guide, there was clearly truth in it.  In silent moments you could almost hear Brandon’s brain humming, chewing through the calculus of our chances as our collective will pushed against the mountain.  He described hours spent pouring over accident reports and YouTube videos of disasters and rescues alike.  Taking on the responsibility of training us in avalanche response and alpine safety, he imparted both a sobering seriousness and self-assured calm on the group.  Under his tutelage, we learned to arrest a fall on the icy glacier with our trusty ice axe, to scan the debris field of an avalanche with a beacon in a sprinting zig-zag, and to dig in to the buried victim of an avalanche rather than down.  When I stabbed myself in the leg with the spike of my ice axe (putting a hole in brand new pants, despite my $100 investment in gaiters that aimed to avoid this very thing), Brandon seemed to pull Tenacious Tape out of thin air.  For like Julie, Brandon was keenly aware of our needs and jumped at any opportunity to make our lives easier.

     The third guide was Cody, the youngest of the group, but the most experienced on Rainier (Brandon had summited for his first time less than a month prior to our trip).  He was a vocal Buddhist, and lent a peaceful spirituality to our alpine rituals, burning Nag Champa during our rehydrated dinners and leading simple – but earnest – pujas before big pushes on the trail.  Despite the wisdom that surpassed his years, Cody radiated a contagious energy, a byproduct of his love for the natural world and the grateful disbelief that he got to scale mountains for a living.  He was the social glue of the group, eager to chat with anyone about philosophy, biology, music, climbing, medicine, meditation, or any other subject you were keen to submit.  Somehow, even in the most arduous moments of our endless climb, his enduring enthusiasm never wore out its welcome.  Like his colleagues, he was an inspirational example of patience, willpower, and kindness as our steps grew slower and gripes louder.

Danny captures Tiger, Tim, Andy, Cody, and Julie in his signature selfie

     In the flurry of emails that circulated prior to our trip, the second day of the expedition was described as a “rest day,” intended to let our feeble, squishy, organs acclimatize themselves to the harsh realities of life above 10,000 feet.  In reality, the word “rest” was here clearly misapplied.  The day started innocently enough, the guides boiling more water while reminiscing about other times spent boiling water.  Once, Brandon said, they had hosted a few "Georgia Boys” on the mountain.  “Big guys, but strong.”  The water boiling responsibilities has apparently pushed the guides to the brink of madness, with empty Nalgenes piling up faster than they could be replenished.  For our part, we moved through our water at a slightly more reasonable pace, though Andy was playfully belligerent over his need for fresh coffee.  The man was unapologetically addicted to caffeine and, more specifically, bulletproof coffee.  He adores Ancient Organics Ghee for this purpose - insisting that I bring a healthy supply for the expedition - and though we ultimately decided against dragging glass jars of the stuff up the mountain with us, he coated the inside of his mug with enough ghee that he was able to supply himself for several days on residue alone.  After coffee, Danny led the group - and a few stragglers from around camp - in some morning yoga on Camp Muir’s small helipad.  Though it was obviously the staging point for many an emergency rescue, the helipad was more commonly used for airlifting 55-gallon drums of poop off of the mountain.  It was one of a few structures at Camp Muir, all built in the style of the century-old guide hut and bunkhouse, scavenged rockfall framed with logs and cemented together with mortar.  After the yoga, however, all semblance of rest went the way of airlifted poop, and we stowed our tents and packed our bags to relocate to high camp.  Anna seemed to be getting sicker, and had skipped yoga, but she dutifully strapped on her pack and affixed her crampons for our first steps into technical terrain.

     From this point onward, we moved as two four-person rope teams.  Trekking poles stowed and ice axe in hand, we snaked our way up the glacier with about  five meters of static line between each climber’s harness.  In steep, rocky sections, a prussic (slide and grip knot) would be used to shorten this distance and lessen the danger of rockfall.  No more than 100 yards from camp, we crossed our first crevasse.  Though a casual step easily spanned the 10-inch gap, we still called out “crossing!” and “across,” partially to practice for more dicey crossings ahead, and partially out of respect for the depth of the thing, which - though narrow - stretched hundreds of feet into the ice below us.  We crossed several additional crevasses as we traversed the cratered snowfield, then climbed an iceless section of rock.  Here we stopped to marvel at a gushing waterfall of glacier-melt, the color of chocolate milk, which was dislodging toaster-sized rocks with alarming frequency.  This was neither the first, nor the last, time that I was struck with the fleeting nature of Rainier’s alpine environment.  In rock climbing, I am accustomed to laying hands on stone that has sat unmoved for millennia, if not eons.  On historic routes, one can clip pitons driven into the rock decades ago by the revered forefathers of our sport.  On a glacier, however, everything is transient, temporary, and temperamental.  The trail that we climbed was vastly different than the one Brandon had taken just weeks prior, and in fact would again be different on our descent less than a day later.  At every opportunity, Brandon prodded other guides, climbers, or rangers for information.  Was there a ladder up?  Had the cornice collapsed?  Where did the high trails converge?  He listened attentively to every response, redrawing the map and the itinerary in his mind, plotting our point on his invisible graph of safety and speed.

Anna on the glacier at sunrise

     Though the hiking was slow, the afternoon required only 1100 feet of climbing from us, and we reached Ingraham Flats with the sun still high in the sky.  This time around, tents were dug in deeper and stakes buried under piles of snow, as the high camp was more exposed to the wind and we would be leaving our tents here during the push for the summit.  Ingraham Flats had no permanent structures, and from here on out we were entrusted with “blue bags” for ferrying waste off the mountain, so we ate an early dinner contemplating digestive cause and effect with a weight rarely afforded to the subject.  While the guides busied themselves boiling snow, we settled into our tents around six o’clock to try to scrounge a few more hours of rest.  At first, it seemed like sleep would be impossible.  Basecamp for a joint expedition between National Geographic and NASA was set up nearby, testing equipment that might one day explore underground Martian lakes.  They were receiving a fresh batch of scientists, many of whom seemed to be reuniting after much time apart.  Nervously contemplating our chances on the mountain, the weather, Anna’s condition, I listened silently to their backslapping, to the tour of their camp, and with regular interval, the cracking explosions of not-so-distant rockfall.

     Eventually, sleep did come, but it was not to last long.  Cody roused us at 10 PM to begin final preparations for the summit push.  Our “rest day” was officially over.  Anna downed some more pseudoephedrine and we rushed to organize our gear and rope up, Brandon hurrying us along to stay ahead of a trail of climbers pushing up from Camp Muir.  Unnatural as our early (or late?) start seemed, most followed suit.  It is extremely dangerous to travel on the glacier during the afternoon, as warming temperatures dislodge rocks previously locked in the snow and shelves of ice pull apart to form new crevasses, so our timing was intended to help us reach the summit and descend before this point.  Of course, in the fog of our fatigue, we didn’t consider any of this specifically, we merely slipped into autopilot and trudged along behind the gentle tug of our rope team.

     The air was still, but cold, and for the first time we set out looking properly dressed for an alpine expedition.  We had stowed layers of down clothing at the top of our packs and any time that the teams halted, these were hastily extracted to prevent our core temperatures from dropping too low.  Once on the trail again, however, these layers had to be removed, as the climbing had become much more strenuous and one could easily overheat.  Not far outside of camp, we started up a stretch of exposed rock, a steep, chossy formation known as the Disappointment Cleaver.  True to its name, this section proved one of the most difficult of the entire expedition.  The rock was incredibly loose, and every step sank and slid backwards under our weight.  Crampons made crossing this terrain even more difficult, directing the force of your steps in unpredictable ways and threatening to steal a lazy footfall from underneath you.  Everywhere, softball to microwave-sized boulders sat beside - or directly on - the trail, so precariously balanced that they almost seemed like intentionally-laid traps.  Physically demanding as the trail was, the mental challenge was by far the greatest crux of the Cleaver.  The trail ascended a steep set of switchbacks, so knocking a rock loose could maim or kill a climber below.  Each step had to be made carefully, with your full weight held in reserve.  In the near total darkness, we scanned the path in front of you for these hazards, tensely awaiting the unmistakable sound of stone sliding against stone or, even worse, the shouts of “ROCK!” from parties above.

Crevasse Crossing in two rope teams

     At the top of the cleaver, the route typically takes a direct westerly route up to the cone of Rainier’s summit.  However, rising temperatures over the last few weeks had created a hazard along this route that was impossible to ignore.  The “Tsunami” was a teetering curl of glacial ice overhanging a couloir, a 100-yard gauntlet guarding the only path on this side of the mountain, threatening to drop at any moment.  When Brandon had summitted Rainier a few weeks prior, he had described this path as “puckering” and attempting it now, after even more of its support had melted away, was beyond reason.  Instead, guide companies had trod a new path, descending slightly and wrapping north along the mountain, eventually meeting up with another established trail to the summit.  While a welcome reprieve for our already-burning legs, this detour ultimately added both distance and elevation to our summit push, and the thought compounded a creeping sense of dread that was welling up in me.

     Still climbing in the dead of night, we pushed upwards and upwards, settling into a sort of trance fed by our bizarre environment.  The icy switchbacks were cut through endless fields of penitentes, jagged pillars of ice resembling man-sized colonies of coral.  Created by the sublimation of glacial ice directly into water vapor, these otherworldly structures take their name from their tendency to form facing the sun, as if bowed in penance.  They left little opportunities to diverge from our chosen path, and we fell into rhythm with the switchbacks, wordlessly stepping over the rope and shifting our axe to the uphill hand with each reversal of the trail until a tug from a slowing teammate on the rope behind startled us out of our stupor.  When the going became steeper, or the walls of ice grew taller around us, we would change our hold on the axe, no longer gripping it by the head, as a cane, but by the shaft, swinging it pick-first into the snow.  In either case, it was rarely seated firmly in the ice, and even missing your plant altogether would not necessarily precipitate a fall.  Rather, the axe sort of floated along by your side, tapping the ice as it sloped upwards, a gentle reassurance that the world was still there beneath your feet.  The prevailing sound on the trail was the crunch of ice under the spikes of our crampons, but even that faded away as the hours pressed on.  In its absence, I began to notice the peculiar noise that the shaft of the ice axe made in the moment between dropping the spike into the snow and removing it, as you stepped past its temporary fulcrum, tilting it like the hand of a clock jumping from eleven to one.  The sound was an unlikely sort of slow squeak, not unlike a playground swing swaying in the breeze.

     I can’t say how long I spent pondering this sound, spinning the aforewritten paragraph in my mind so many weeks before I’d commit it to type; time seemed to stretch and skip in the darkness.  Occasionally, we’d pause to catch our breath and marvel at the view.  While the moon remained hidden behind Rainier’s still-imposing shadow, the stars shone brilliantly in the thin air.  On the horizon, you could see the shimmer of the Seattle metro, surprisingly close given our feeling of remoteness.  Impossibly far up the mountain, an eerie train of glowing headlamps bobbed slowly upwards.  As we rounded the Eastern face of the mountain, the sky took on a faint red glow, and soon after we lifted weary hands to toggle off our headlamps.  While my lamp would serve no further use for the day, I dared not expend the energy to actually divorce the thing from my helmet.  By this point, I was brutally exhausted, deprived of sleep, calories, and oxygen.  Anna voiced no protest, but it was clear that she was digging deep for the will to continue.  Already, Brandon had taken us aside for a check-up, explaining that the rope team’s current pace would not put us on the summit in time.  Though he didn’t say it, the subtext was clear: “Are you guys gonna make it? Do we need to turn around?”  We had steeled our resolve and given Brandon our understanding nods, but now I was beginning to waver.

     As the sun rose on Sunday morning, we gained the Emmons Glacier and began our final push for the summit.  The climbing became steeper, and the intersecting trails put parties close on our trail.  At 13,500 feet, I started to receive some troubled glances from our guides.  The altitude was wearing mightily on me, and my vision became spotted with little glowing auras.  Twice, I swallowed my pride and gasped for a quick break, pulling the team off the trail and secretly praising the climbers that nipped at our heels as we waited for them to pass us.  Still, we were too close for me to possibly consider surrender.  If I had made it this far, a few more steps would certainly not kill me.  We pressed up a particularly steep section, clipping our rope into pickets hammered into the snow to protect our team, then gained a large flat snowfield just below the summit.  It was now six in the morning, and the sun shone brightly on us.  The final 100 yards were free of snow, and I worked my way up the dusty trail a dozen steps at a time, falling to my knees and gasping for air more times in this short stretch than I can now believe.  Anna mustered only the most meager encouragement, patting my foot as she passed me by, now free of the rope that had kept her in line behind me.  I stumbled to my feet behind her, and with a few final steps at last stood atop Mount Rainier.

     As we reflected on the climb later that day, Andy would describe the summit as “kinda weird”.  The first time he had reached the top, he had been overcome with emotion, brought to tears by the weight of the accomplishment and the tragedy that had set his climb in motion.  While we were certainly ecstatic to have reached our goal, I think what Andy meant by this was twofold.  First of all, we were quickly chased off of the top by the weather (now that we had stopped moving, the dusty winds quickly chilled us to the bone and would occasionally threaten to knock you off your feet).  More importantly, I think Andy was vocalizing something that we all felt, that the summit was but one tiny part of an adventure that, even at its most bleak and desperate, was at every moment a beautiful and revealing experience.  As I look back on the expedition now, I rarely contemplate our summit.  Rather, I think back to that breathtaking moment when the blood red sun first peaked above the horizon.  I remember the careful measurement of our steps meant to keep the rope between us taught and the faint, but proud smile on Anna’s face when I would turn to check on her.  I remember Brandon’s lessons, Julie’s stories, and Cody’s words of inspiration.  I remember Andy smearing zinc so thick on his lips that he looked like a powdered donut fiend.  I remember Danny duct-taping his phone to his selfie stick to get the perfect shot.  I remember Tiger stowing rocks in people’s packs, then laughing too hard to get away with it.  Mostly, I remember Rainier, and the shared moments of monotony and hilarity, pain and pride, despair and triumph, and that brief, uncompromising look at who we are and what we are capable of.

     My time on Rainier has left me with a profound gratitude that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.  I am forever indebted to Andy, for his vision and inspiration, to our guides, for their wisdom and compassion, and to our partners, for their camaraderie and motivation.  I am grateful for the mountain, which allowed us to pass unscathed, for my body, strong and healthy enough to undertake this challenge when others cannot, and for my incredible girlfriend and climbing partner Anna, who drives me to dream, to persevere, and to live a life for the benefit of others.  And of course, I am grateful for our donors, who gave us the opportunity to test ourselves in and incredible new way, and the chance to prove that climbing is not only a selfish pursuit, but a force for good in this world.  From the bottom of our hearts, thank you.

If you would like to support Climb for Hope, please visit www.climbforhope.com or donate at: www.crowdrise.com/climbforhope

[deeeknows]

While I might hurt a feeling or two God is still working with me and as a huge disclaimer I suck and everything I try to do on my own sucks so if there are any parts of what I will go into saying that you disagree with give it about 3 honest minutes of chewing before you have my permission to never read my blog again. Unless you enjoy spitting up all over yourself XD. All good parts of this Blog will be God inspired so the credit goes to him.

I don't wanna leave anything out so skip to the good parts if you ever get bored. I promise I wont tell anyone.

June 14

Came and went but what I do remember the most is the drive up. not because i missed my mommy which i might have but because it would be setting the tone for everything that this next 6 weeks was going to be. I rode with my neighbor up and it was a cool little trip until we got off exit 51. The usual city stuff I was used to and could deal with easily especially sitting in the back seat lol. but as we trecked closer and closer to 318 S Gilmore St ya boy started to get a little more and more worried about where I was going and what I was going to be doing because of who I was riding with. then came the dreaded question, "uhhh do you know where you are, you sure you're gonna be ok?" important part. I was so comfortable with being a christian when the relationship was just me and God. But, as soon as I was expected to communicate my decision I made with God with anyone I didn't wanna do it anymore because just saying i want to do anything solely in Gods name turned me I became the crazy which no one could relate. but thats just telling you the mindset i came into this program with. hopefully i didn't lose too many of you people yet.

June 15

today was my first full day in baltimore city and i have many emotions it started with daily prayer and that was chill but early. we started with downloading about the passage on bonding as missionary and what stood out to us. Important part serving a place is about serving the people there. and there is no way i can serve people I haven't created a bond with. I'm not here to be bonding with the people i came with. thats gonna happen regardless. I'm here to make sure that the south west baltimore can see God and how he is working in the city.

We began to talk about what were some of the community questions some other people might have about the new city we were coming into and seeing what we could learn from the people who were engaged. that was fun we were talking to folks who worked around here in the shops that weren't abandoned as well as 2 police officers. Important part the people were so quick to distance themselves from the violence that was "over there". I want to find out more about this and see what others think about why this community struggles so much to grow together in unity. then was dinner at primos which was chill the best thing there was the pineapple soda which was a change in pace from the tap water. I also went to the prayer which was cool to see these strange white people out here on FIRE for God. It was refreshing. I was told there I have eyes of fire and im going to heal and peace will travel with me so im writing it down for memory sake. my favorite thing was the NA meeting today. Lee spoke and it was scary how well he knew himself and Important part the steps he took to get better all remind me of how in my walk the only way I get to take any steps on the road to recovery is with someone walking along side of me, well second day down.

June 16

Here we go. The 3rd day was just as good as the last couple. Nah that was a lie but thats besides the point. It started with bible study on what “is” from our ought is little thingy. We studied the fall of man this morning and how it was centered around our idea for self sufficiency. Important part we wanted to be able to provide for ourselves and live without God but that was just impossible. And I fell in love again with what God did instead of doing what he promised the man and the women. Important part God loved the men and women more than animals he sacrificed to make them skins and stay in community with them. Afterwards we went on a walk around the block and I saw bruce street. what a sight. I wanted to take a picture of the streets. boarded homes and the almost Prison yard of a block and the people who were protecting it. I see the people there and they are on my heart daily. the one way street does it justice. then we played ball with Ty and Justin and Juwan. Afterwards I rewatched 13. the documentary was hard to watch and be a spokesperson for all black men in america but that happens. i didnt like it at all actually, but thats alright its not about me 🙄 I am helping people see the the black experience. thankful for doing that hard things that i still dont wanna do but have to.

June 17

Today started with the same old I even ate breakfast today which I guess changes things up a little bit. I guess I was feeling freeky. But we studied with Uesin today the book of Ruth. not Ester, Ruth. and it was a story about the redeeming of both and how boaz was THE MAN. Important part But what I couldn't think more about was how Ruth would not let go of Naomi and how I want to develop relationships like that with people who are are not even “my people” but yeah that was the highlight of my day. Then we went to buy food and then from there went to the refugee dinner. Never mind I change what I was going to say. This was the highlight of my day dont know why im keeping this in here but comic relief is good for the soul.

Regardless of how amazing the food was and how sorry the situation of the process to become a refugee in america was we had two muslim families here who cooked US dinner. This blows my mind. This whole time I was thinking we were going to be just Talking to them but when we got there I was greeted with a new reality. These people weren’t eating and some described their time in the US as worse than the camps in Jordan. Important part So my prayer for these folk will be for the “language” barrier we have here in the US. Not to make it easier because english sucks but to make the people in these communities see the need and start to work with the folk. the communication is frustrating and can be a roadblock to people trying to get an education and even lead to them dropping out of school because of the culture shock and all that nice stuff. yeah in the end baltimore school not going easy on the Syrian families and they need our help to come along side and meet them halfway.

June 18

and then it was sunday. My day started with Megan and the farmers market. what I remember from watching the people was how the blacks lined up outside of the market and were all there just in a huge crowd. It was hard to see. the city making its attempt to grow. As i got to walk through I was most struck by how not black the market was. and i knew that because of who was selling and what people were buying. almost every stand was a white family and that wasn’t bad it just is another example of people coming into the city to address the needs here and the city losing its money to “outsiders” the folks who were living there dont get pay taxes on the food they were buying and everything is cash there. but i saw some characters XD and spent much of my time praying for and observing the people who were out and about on the sunday morning. ill be there next week again because of my love for people watching and fresh food tho lol.

my next stretch point came when praying over the sermon and doing it the way i do it at home. with the holy spirit guiding me and im glad my fake shell deteriorating. but the sermon was about for me seeing the city the way God does and if i do how will my actions change accordingly. Important part I want to see a redeemed baltimore and pastor Hopkins made it me see that there is no way it happens without the church people living and building communities in the gutter. we are here now, lets set up camp and use the rest of Jeremiah 29. my trip to baltimore inner harbor was cool the east side is completely different than the west and i definitely  wanna see more of what thats about. lastly my highlight of the day was at the latino service. not only did it make me miss home T-T but i learned about phillip and how to address people in the community by the direction of the holy spirit and that his timing will do all the hard work. Important part man that Spanish service also helped me to see that the communities here all want the same thing and are using the similar methods so maybe we try something new or try something together. the churches are here to address the needs of the community i like how city minded these communities are here in the inner city. yeah the murder rate through the roof but the children here are so intelligent and valuable to me that i cant let it go. this was my first time practicing the sabbath i like this way of thinking.

June 19

Juneteenth. Today I learned what 10:12 sports is and got to see into the heart of Brother Jeff Thompson. He is a man with the zeal for God and wants to do so much for these kids in his neighborhoods near and far across the baltimore city. He has almost adopted these two kids picking them up for a bite to eat and just spending time goal setting with them. lil Wayne and Teon were there names since I was looking for who to pray for. but i learned much from the youth just their little goal setting session showed me the heart of many of the children I believe are in this area. of course its not the same when other people are around so these 1 on1 sessions are going to go really well. Important part they have goals. pull them out of the kids because they know where they wanna go and if they dont start them dreaming and ask how you can help them get there. after we went to silver spring and back and then i cooked dinner and popped my hand real bad on the oil. but thats regular. the evenings we started VBS and i know my love for the kids is starting to seep out but they just want some attention and all at once is impossible but Im not sure how to do that and educate them all yet. partner grouping might be too soon for these young ones but maybe personalized lessons with 2-3 would prove beneficial. time will tell

June 20

today was another good day started off like they all do. prayer and community. we went and picked up all the kids and went to see pastor Andrew? i be forgetting names. but what was so striking about this encounter was how passionate brother Jeff was pursuing these kids. Like he wouldn't not take no for an answer. And it looked like he wanted them to go more than they wanted to go. And not that it was bad but they just wanted to do what they were used to and what they were comfortable with. Beach trips to ocean city which arent bad but they arent going to change your life every week. What i see in addition is how to guide the child to what you know will be good for them. Plus teaching them about life through weeds and pouring into them with the resources with what you have. expect much and give more was what I learned from today. driving all around the city picking and waiting on kids brother Jeff is officially brother Jeff to me as well after today. The respect is there. What else I did was the VBS and I love those kids man they gotta keep growing to meet my expectations Important part the trick is keeping them high and moving them higher steadily even if they dont meet them not to forget that they are still worth my time and i GLADLY give it when I have it. much love.

yeah so based on how I feel about this later on after its posted and time to proofread XD i might do something like this next week. hope you got lost somewhere in there and you needed to think twice about something because other wise ill make this more complicated. jkjk but sorry about the capitalization stuff and grammar thats more effort than im willing to give. I hope it doesnt ruin it for you. Important part my last impression would be to find a good book and drink more tea. My challenge for you this week would be to leave your phone on your bed when you leave in the morning. My question for you would be how can i get these children outta there homes before 3pm ?

[archivemisora]

The Steel Maiden of Coerthas

“Listen to me, brother. Falling skies and shooting stars can never take the truth away from you. Now go!”

Artessa jolted awake with sweat on her forehead, instantly chilled by the brisk Coerthas air. She reached for the silver medallion on her neck and shoved the covers off of her, pulling herself out of bed to start some coffee. The small cottage had housed many mercenaries and warriors in its time. Though she shared with three (or was it four?) others, she had it to herself that morning. It was a good thing, too. Solitude was the best place for her mind after dreaming. Dreaming seemed too cruel when it mirrored reality.

As the coffee began to drip into her mug, she ritualistically curled her long, blonde hair and lined her pale blue eyes with black makeup before sharpening her sword. Her mind shifted to distant memories as she created sparks against the steel.

An adolescent of 17, Artessa d'Orguille wore her hair in a short, pixie style cut and wielded a bow which she restrung carefully. Her mother knocked on her already cracked door before letting herself in. “Artessa, darling, a moment of your time, if I may?” The lady of the house was the walking image of grace and beauty. Though her own beauty was a bit tomboyish, it was clear that Artessa was growing up to look just like her. “Yes, mother. Is everything alright?” She put her bow to the side and shifted to one of the plush chairs in the corner of the room, inviting her mother to take the seat next to her. Lady d'Orguille reached out and pushed a strand of hair away from Artessa's eyes, smiling a bit. “Of course. You're growing up so quickly. Soon, you'll be of age to join the knights. You've been practicing so hard that I worry you don't leave yourself enough time to enjoy the last of your youth.” Artessa rolled her eyes and smiled. “That's not what you're here to talk to me about, is it?” “Not at all, but it slipped out nonetheless. I digress. It's about Milliardo. When you were his age, your father took you to the Dravanian Forelands to chose and raise his own chocobo.” Artessa nodded. He had done the same for her other three siblings, too. “There is a lot going on and your father is hard at work, I fear he cannot get away to help Milliardo to the Forelands. Instead of putting it off, I thought that, well... you are quickly becoming a young adult. Wouldn't it be nice if you could take your youngest brother on this rite of passage?” There was a little bit of exhaustion in lady d'Orguille's smile. For a moment, Artessa was awkwardly dumbfounded. An unsupervised trip with the responsibility of her eleven year old brother seemed rather sudden, but an aspiring knight would never back down from a challenge, no matter how strange or out of place it may seem. “You know what, mother? I would be delighted.” She always had a particular fondness in her heart for her little brother, perhaps because of the age gap. Her mother smiled proudly and placed her hands over Artessa's own, nodding in thanks.

“Seven hells, woman, aren't you cold? Put some pants on.” Artessa snapped out of her daze and looked up blankly to the other warrior who had just broken her solitude. She stood, wearing an armored top and a pair of tight shorts, shrugging a bit. “Don't drink my coffee, Claude.” The highlander man cackled at the elezen woman as she finished dressing with no real hurry. “I'd never go out of my way to upset The Maiden,” he teased, unphased by her icy glare. “Relax. Is it just you here right now? I was going to make my way to town and pick up a few jobs. You can come with me if you'd like, you're probably getting pretty broke. You've been cooped up in here for over a week.” Artessa turned her nose up. “It's really none of your business, but I was also on my way to town. I suppose I could suffer your company for the day.” Claude laughed again. “Cold as ice,” he stated in defeat. Once she armored and finished her coffee, the two set out town to scope out wanted posters at the local pub. “You know, Tessa, people would probably take you more seriously if you didn't doll yourself up to go to battle.” “I don't give a damn what you or the other sellswords say. Do you think I'm getting pretty for you?” she snapped, tossing one of her ringlets over her shoulder. “I enjoy the look of shock and humiliation in my rivals' and opponent's faces when I attain victory.

“You're a godsdamn mess, you know that?” Claude laughed. Artessa did not give him the gratification of a response. As they made their way into the pub, she nodded at the barkeep before taking a few posters from the corner table. “Rabid beasts. All of these. Oh, and a heretic,” she stated as she flipped through the papers. Claude took them from her and flipped through them as well. “Don't take my jobs, you oaf.” “Let's just knock them out together and split the profits. We can cook one of them for dinner and be done with it.” Artessa rolled her eyes, refusing to admit that he was right as she reluctantly and silently accepted his company.

Young Millliardo d'Orguille seemed more  than happy to have a chance to spend some quality time with his busy oldest sister.  Glowing with pride for her new sense of responsibility, Artessa took  all measures necessary to keep her brother safe and happy.  On the day of their departure, she put his platinum hair into a cropped, tight braid and a tailored red traveling coat she purchased for him with her own allowance.  The first night in the Dravanian Forelands found the young boy discouraged and scratched from a rough encounter with a wild chocobo. The siblings set up camp while Artessa did what she could to lift the spirits of the discouraged young boy. “Tessie, it didn't like me at all,” he complained.  “And it broke my amulet!” Milliardo held out a pendant on a broken silver chain in distress. Artessa took the pendant and placed it in her coat pocket. “I'll fix it for you later, Illia.  Did you know that it took me an entire week just to catch Tempest?”  The youth watched here in wide-eyed curiosity.  “It's true.  She was the most stubborn bird in the forest, I'm sure of it.  But there was something about her resilience that I was drawn to.” “Stubborn just like you, right?” Milliardo laughed.  Artessa smirked. In the span of four days, they captured and tamed the bird.  Milliardo had a way with the animal unlike anything she had ever seen.  The kindness of her little brother inspired and humbled her. Her next priority would be to see him home safely with his newfound  companion.

The ravage of their house and massacre of their family was the last thing she expected to find when they arrived back home.

Artessa's blade cleaved a ravaging gator in half.  The blood of the beast splattered over her breastplate and into her hair.  Though she did not feel as if she  had exerted herself more than she normally would on a hunt, she felt short of breath and dizzy.  Staggering, she slammed her sword against the ground and drug it through the snow to cleanse the blade of the reptile blood. “Easy there, Steel Maiden.  We just need one of the four jaws to prove we killed it.” Claude peered at Artessa as she pulled herself back up, trying to blink her blurred sight back to normal.  He made a face at her, staying back as he sawed off a jaw.  “Can we eat this?” he mused more to himself than anything.  “That takes care of the beasts. All in a day's work!  Now let's see if we can find this heretic.”

“Not interested.”  Artessa winced and grabbed the jaw piece from Claude, shoving the bloody part into her travel bag.

“What's the matter, Tess?  You afraid of heretics?”  Claude's playful tone suddenly dropped as he reached for his own sword.  “Or maybe you are one.”  

Milliardo fell into a grieving silence.  House d'Orguille had been slain—all but Milliardo and Artessa.  Instead  of finding comfort in neighbors and other noble households, they found awful rumors and suspicious stares.  Musings about the voidsent risen from the catacombs under the estate.  Correlations between the Calamity and these voidsent. Orders of execution.  Heretics.  HERETICS. With no more  than what they had left home with to take with them, the siblings fled to the icy Coerthas Western Highlands with Milliardo's newly acquired chocobo.  Even Artessa's own Tempest did not survive the purge. Several days were spent hunting, hiding, and traveling as far away as they could go.  As much as she wished to slip away unnoticed, it became dreadfully apparent that they were indeed being hunted. “Shh, let's wait it out, we'll be okay,” she whispered to her trembling brother as she held him tightly.  They crouched beneath a hollowed stone formation on the side of a mountain from the sound of footsteps and steel.  Artessa gasped out loud as she felt her heart stop.  A pair of eyes fell upon them and a scowling face struck fear into her very being. “HERETICS!”

“Heretic.” Claude tilted his chin upwards and spun his sword around tauntingly. “Artessa d'Orguille.  You know I could still fetch a good price for turning you in to the Holy See?” “I'm Tessa Soreil. Artessa d'Orguille is dead,” she snapped, knowing that there was no use trying to talk him down.  A forced companionship brought to a quick end... a typical scenario in the life of the scorned Steel Maiden of Coerthas.  With one hand, she clutched her sword and drew it forward.  The other, she held over her eye in a quick effort to soothe the uncomfortable pulsing sensation in her head.  As Claude charged towards her to strike, she felt her body beginning to move on its own as dizziness overtook her and her vision became blurry once more.

Artessa quickly drew her bow and knocked an arrow into the shoulder of their attacker, then shoved Milliardo down behind her. “Get back, Illia!” she yelped, trembling as the heretic  hunter reached for her neck.  While gasping for breath, her hand reached for the arrow in his shoulder and pulled it out, driving the sharp end directly into his neck, grinding and twisting it until she was free. “C-curse upon your gods-damned vo--” the man spit blood up, gargling his words.  “Voidsent, y-- he... tic!”  He raised his sword, slicing it across Artessa's leg weakly, but enough to tear her boot and rip her flesh.  Though she cried out in pain, she found the will to take her bow and knock another arrow into the man's back as he fell forward.  He lay on the ground, his blood spilling from his neck and from his back while his body twitched and reached for his weapon.  For a moment, the girl could not hear the gargling sounds of the dying attacker, nor could she hear the wailing of her youngest and only living brother.  She heard a ringing in her ears and an indecipherable voice coming from what seemed to be the sword. Calling to her.  Beckoning. In a half-conscious daze, Artessa killed a man.  Guilt and remorse poured over her as her innocent brother cried in quiet horror.  “...Quickly,” she beckoned, taking both the bow and her newly acquired sword before helping Milliardo mount his slightly crazed chocobo. “Tessie, you're bleeding,” Milliardo finally whimpered after they began their staggering travel.  She looked behind her, seeing a stream of smoke rising in the distance.  Possibly torches, definitely danger. Memories of the manor flooded into her mind.  All of the  things she wanted and all of the people she loved were gone forever.  All of them except for Milliardo.  Artessa felt a sick twisting in her heart as she saw the dusk beginning to fall.  To keep him safe at all costs, she knew what she had to do. “Illia.  We won't live if we stay together.”  The tears in her brother's eyes were almost too much for her to take. “Artessa, no, I can't make it without--”

“Milliardo, stop it,” she said sternly.  Carefully, she looked over her shoulder to gauge how much time she had.  She lifted her quiver of arrows from her back and handed it to Milliardo along with her prized bow.  “Ride into the direction of the sunset until you find shelter.  Ride until you can't go any further.  Do you know how to use this?”  He stared at her, nodding.  “It will keep you safe as it has until now... it will just be in your hands this time.” “Tessie, please don't leave me!” he protested.  Artessa placed her hands on both of his cheeks, looking up at him from his vantage point on the back of his bird. “You are a d'Orguille.  No matter who you have to be to keep safe, it doesn't matter.”  She focused her intense blue eyes on him, hoping that if he only remembered one thing about her when he grew old, that  this would be it.  “Listen to me, brother. Falling skies and shooting stars can never take the truth away from you. Now go!”

She startled the chocobo and sent her beloved brother off towards the sunset, away from the dangers of a home that has rejected them so carelessly.  The pain of her wound did not compare to the ache of loneliness she felt when she reached into her pocket, finding that she still has Milliardo's amulet that she promised to have fixed for him. Artessa's pace slowed and the heretic hunters eventually caught up to her.  The sword beckoned her again.  Artessa fought and lost herself.  When she came to, the hunters were all fallen.  All alone in the cold, she broke down and wept bitterly.

Artessa Soreil regained her focus and found Claude laying motionless in a mound of bloody snow.  She cleaned her blade  off and shrugged her shoulder to crack her neck, making sure to take the proof of the slain hunts with her while leaving the highlander's corpse to be slowly buried by the snow.

The pub was slow.  She tossed her spoils onto the counter along with their accompanying wanted posters, looking the barkeep in the eye. He stared at her for a while before finally asking what he seemed to already know the answer to.  “Claude's not coming back, is he, Tessa?”  She did not respond, she only stared at him coldly.  He sighed a bit and scribbled a name on the back of one of the posters before counting the bounty to pay.  “Did you lose consciousness again?” he asked more quietly this time. “A little, yes.” She stared at the note and pocketed the gil.

“Croix Straus.  Is this an under the table job?”

“An unorthodox exorcist.”  The barkeep stared at Artessa and nodded. “You need to go to Thanalan to find him... but I really think you could use some answers, Tess.  And you're not going to find them here.”  Her hand slid off  the counter and she waved a bit as she walked away.

“My thanks.”

The Steel Maiden's journey to Thanalan began.  After all, a woman with nothing had nothing to lose.