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annaofthenorthernlights · 4 years ago

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It´s your life

Chapter 3

New world

Kristanna Modern AU

Rating: G

Word counting: 2228

Previous chapters (on AO3)

Note:

I´ve been to Disneyland Paris (Europe) before. Please forgive if there are inadequacies about the resort in CA.

Along this chapter I figured this fanfic takes place around spring 2014. Why? You´ll see…😊

Another note at the end of the chapter.

“You didn´t!”

Anna shrieked with excitement when they turned around the corner, entering the Western-Town-Alley. The imitation of the pioneer-aera town would catapult their guests into the time of cowboys and saloon girls roaming the street. So, the saloon would make the breakfast room, while bank building contained the tourist-information, informing all guests about major events, tickets selling of all sorts and providing material for the trip along the parc. Along the alley there stood little buildings as accommodations from single up to family rooms. At the end of the road there was the “great Casino”, the dining hall. That´s where they would eat shortly, so there was not that much time of wandering about.

The room was clearly expanding the feeling of being thrown back in time. It was situated further down the “towns street”, which was great. Because then one would need to walk all the way along the buildings and exploring the “western flair”.

Anna gnawed on her lower lip as she plunged herself on the wood framed bed, bouncing on the mattress to check its sound and feeling. Okay, it was sturdy, because there was no sound of a squeaky slatted frame.

Kristoff had put down their bags and looked at her amused, sitting down next to her. “You like it?”

“Are you kidding me? I love it. This is so great. Thank you so much considering this type of accommodation.” With that, she perked a kiss to his cheek, laughing and glancing around their nest. It was a simple room, but with a lovely charm to the details of interior and decoration. Nothing fancy, all wooden furniture and a woolen knotted carpet in front of the bed. Not much more. Th bathroom was modern of course, but simple in style, too.

“Glad you do.” Kristoff smiled and lay back for a moment. “I´m still sorry, I can´t give you the exquisite room in the princess hotel… But to be honest, I like it in here quite the more…”

“Stop that!” Anna scolded. “It´s really great, I love it. And I love it even the more, because you do this all for me.” She leaned over and cuddled against his side. Then, she pushed up on her elbow, looking around one more time.

“You know what? This reminds me so much of a story I have recently read on an internet blog site. It´s not a real story, well you know it´s a so-called fanfiction – a story about a story…Never mind, it´s called “Where the world is in the making”, taking place about 150 years ago, pioneer-aera. A young girl from the east coast travels west to marry a young homesteader by advertisement. It´s a hard life but they gradually and slowly start falling in love with each other, without realizing it of course… It´s so romantic and tragic all in one.” Anna laid back into her man´s embrace and sighed. It was good to know, they wouldn´t have to go over to some creek to get some washing…

Kristoff had listened. He was not the reader, but he liked listening to her story telling. He had heard of it before, of women traveling far to get married to some advertising men in the west. That was so crazy. But it was a different time and apparently it had worked. Somehow. Maybe. Who really knew today what they had lived like?

*******

Their table at the Casino restaurant was situated by the window and they had the perfect view onto the street. Anna sat beaming, and glancing around the place in disbelief. She could hardly take it all in, the moment was to blissful to her. She pulled up her shoulders and pressed her lips together.

“I can´t believe we´re sitting here. This is… wonderful. Thank you so much!” She reached over and Kristoff responded by squeezing her hand, smiling. “You´re welcome. Glad you enjoy yourself so immensely.”

A young woman stepped up to their table and pulled them out of their stare. She smiled so naturally and handed the menu. “Hi. I´m Honeymaren and I will be your server tonight. What can I bring you for drinks?”

When the server had left with their orders, Anna leaned back in her chair and tilted her head in thought.

“A penny for your mind.” Kristoff leaned back himself.

“Hm. I was thinking.” Anna fiddled with her fingers. “About that story, that I´ve told you just before. Those times must have been harsh and dangerous, too. I wonder how brave people back then must have been. I mean, they have left their former homes, pursuing a dream to find a golden future in the western realms. They have built new homes, towns, and established communities. Okay I´m not going into the dark chapter of forcing whole folks to move and leaving their land of ancestors. That was the bad history… But they had literally formed a “new world”. Like in that story I read, it was in the making. Are we still “in the making”, or is it all done and settled?”

“That´s a good question. I think we should never be “done” and stop dreaming of a better world. Otherwise, we get lazy and inattentive. That´s dangerous.”

That moment, Honeymaren appeared with their drinks and was ready to get their meal order taken. While Kristoff and Anna still take a quick moment to gaze into their menu cards, the young woman looks back and forth between them, curling her lips. When she´d taken their wishes, she smiled, thanked, and disappeared. Once behind the bar, she hurried to the phone and started to dial a number. “Mathias! Hi. Honeymaren here…”

“I hope Elsa is alright.” Anna bites her lips and looks genuinely concerned. “I mean, it was not nice of me to cut her off like that. It´s not her fault, our family is in that business. Now, she had to deal with excusing me in some way. But then, the time would never be right for this, no?”

“No. It´s not. Whenever you would want to decide for yourself, you´d be the “troublemaker”. But Anna. Again, no matter what happens, I will be there for you. Not telling you what to do, but to support you. Okay?”

Now, her smile was back. “Yes, I know. Thank you. It´s just… Well, I guess that I will get to hear my lot. And I´m sure grandpa won´t put up with my “rebellion” and support me in this. So, I was wondering if I might be even able to finish my exams in the first place. I will have to take it step by step once back home. But that´s okay. I have time, don´t I? Otherwise, I will change plans and do something else. Something useful, that I know I will be good at, somehow. Around normal people, in a normal world.”

“Yes, you will!” Kristoff smiled at her reassuringly.

***

Kristoff held the little gift in his hand, unsure to give it Anna yet… When he had picked her up today, he had not expected the call Anna would get from Elsa. For some reason it had hit him in a spot, he had not realised before. Kristoff loved Anna for so many reasons. Maybe the greatest one was the fact that she loved him so naturally, so unconditionally, even though she was raised in such high standard surroundings.

But then, she had suffered this ugly betrayal, painfully facing the smirked mask of greed, when Hans had dropped her like a cheap cloth to the ground. She had been nothing more than a good trespass into the Rendelle business. Once his chances of career at the well named establishment got shrinking, she had been of no interest or rather use to him anymore. He was gone, faster than he had shown up. She´d been so embarrassed and devastated.

So, when Kristoff had first met her, it had been merely per accident. They had bumped practically into each other on a birthday party, neither of them had been eager to attend. That friend of hers from Senior High had moved on ever since. Kristoff had been invited by Sven, who had been invited by the birthday girl´s boyfriend. Sometimes the world was just small indeed.

Kristoff smiled at the memory of that first so dreadful evening, that at the end turned out to be so warm and wonderful. They had – by fate? – landed sitting next to each other, both kind of uninterested in great talk, while Anna was the one starting the conversation. First on a more polite basis, where at the end, they found themselves wound up discussing all sorts of things, from music, movies, food tastes, cars (well that was more his part, but she had listened and shown great interest best she managed), up to holiday spots worth dreaming about. And when he told her about his passion of working with wood and tools of all kinds, her eyes sparkled with pure and honest interest. He was bewildered at this recognition and asked her about this affection. Anna had smiled and explained, that she loved it when people were excited about what they did or loved. She didn´t know that much about passionate work or hobbies because all she was ever taught was to work hard for the family name and focus on that career. There was not much space left for anything else.

And when he had invited her to come and look at some of his and Sven´s projects, she had eagerly agreed and had never failed to show her pure interest.

Kristoff was positive that Anna would make her way and do a great job, no matter what she would do. If it were to help with guests and provide breakfast for them at his parents boarding house. She would do it enthusiastically and passionately. If she would defend some kid from being accused of robbery or any other unproved mischief, and then getting the best deal sorted out at court – she would be great. He was sure.

But now, he was wondering if his plans would fit her upcoming life. Just today, she had taken the courage to step away from an old life that had kept her in its forceps for so long. Was it fair if he asked her into his world like that? Binding her to him in this way, that maybe meant that she would be kept captive again? She deserved all freedom to herself now.

Kristoff sat on the edge of the bed, turning the little giftbox in his hands, waiting for Anna to emerge from the bathroom. When he heard the shower being turned off, he quickly stored the little box off into the nightstand drawer.

***

A desperate yell from the bathroom, followed by a shower of swearing from Anna´s exaggerated and clearly annoyed and shocked voice startled the young man to jump and hurry over to the bathroom door, just to push it open.

“Goodness, Anna! Are you alright?”

She stood wrapped in the towel, fumbling within her toilet bag, all the while stamping her foot, frowning, and swearing to the bag. Then she looked up, a miserable expression on her face, close to tears.

Kristoff stepped closer, worried she was hurt or in pain or whatsoever. “Hey, honey, what´s the matter?” He didn´t dare touch her while she looked so furious in a way.

Anna let out a heavy sigh, shrugged helplessly, and then held up the accusing delict.

Kristoff studied the little white cotton thing that was swinging in front of his nose and once recognising what it was, he grimaced and withheld the laugh.

Anna blurted out in a wild explosion, “I´m so sorry! It´s terrible, I had forgotten completely about this. It started just this evening. I´m so sorry….” She pleaded frustrated… At some point she had lowered her hand, fumbling with the tampon, annoyed...

Kristoff couldn´t help but laugh inwardly. Yep, that was bad timing, but for sure not her fault. So, he wouldn´t blame her or anything. That was after all a nature´s circle and part of the game.

He shrugged, scratched at the back of his head and sighed.

“Well, that´s too bad, isn´t it. I mean, think of it. Every princess of this resort and her catch ´might have sex tonight, except for us. Not think of what Mickey and Minnie Mouse will be up to…?” He grinned.

Anna stared at him. He was the best. Surely, he would be upset. But then, he was always so considerate when it came to her various conditions. By now, she shook her head in amusement and punched a fist to his upper arm.

“You pervert!” Then, she laughed and gnawed her lower lip. “Dam it! Now, I can´t get the picture out of my head!”

“We can change that.” Kristoff remarked, and pulled her close to him, “I´m sure we figure out some other ways of cherishing our time together.”

Anna frowned again and sighed, “but…!” She gestured to the room. “But… This is sooo amazing, and I screw it up!”

“No. You don´t! This not your fault and it isn´t like we wouldn´t get some other chance, wouldn´t we? Still… I do envy Mr. Cotton a bit, you know.”

That was it. Anna shoved him out of the bathroom playfully scolding him along the way.

*********

Note: The idea of mentioning another fanfic within the fanfic was very spontaneous – including the authors´ consent (WTWIITM – thanks to @upthenorthmountain and @karis-the-fangirl) 😊

#Fanfiction #Frozen fanfic #Kristanna fanfic #Modern AU #mine #fanfic within the fanfic surprise #Anna #Kristoff

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northernxstories · 4 years ago

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Trading in Dignity

It was shocking how quickly it all came to an end. It started in the 2020s and within a decade, after the third global pandemic, they were faced with the worst yet. All the science deniers, those who refused to distance, wear masks and all of that ... well, most of them caught it. Some of them caught it without showing a single symptom. That didn’t matter because approximately eight months after you were infected, after you thought you were all well again, your lungs started to bleed. Nothing could make it stop. You drowned in your own bed, at night, sometimes in mere minutes. Most of the time, you just went to sleep and never woke again. It was grim.

The survivors were rare and the disease progressed so quickly, institutions fell almost overnight. Whole cities became ghost towns. Survivor teams started sweeping, looking for children, infants, pets trapped in houses and then supplies. Survivors came first. There were a lot of supplies. Not that many people.

She was rare and she knew it. Immune. How? No idea. Luck? Genetics? It didn’t matter at the end of the day. The world grieved and cities were abandoned for smaller communities. It wasn’t like in the horror movies or post-apocalypse fiction. No one ate people, bought and sold people, or any of that ridiculousness. For the most part people tried to help one another. Older people banded together to raise the children who survived. With the population reduced in the span of a decade to less than a third, it became very clear that every single human was a necessary addition. Funny how prejudice and differences in sexuality mattered a whole lot less when the end of the human race was at stake. All that shit became real irrelevant real fast.

In a spate of particularly weird coincidence, some communities lost more of a certain type of people. The east coast of North America for example had nearly no men left. It was startling, You could travel for days, scout many towns and communities and find less than a dozen males. West of the Rocky mountains however, the opposite was true. The average was 1 self-identified female to 20 self-identified males (like people were checking - get real). Some communities the ratio was more like 100 to 1. In the mid-west, prairie region, well there was almost no people left there at all. No one knew why they were so hard hit but the coasts survived. Perhaps it was just population distribution. Scientists would be studying it long after she was dead.

So, in a world where you lived with almost 100 men in your community and the number of single women could be counted on one hand, and you wouldn’t need every finger? Yeah. This was fantastic.

Again, it wasn’t like the books though. She wasn’t chained, or bound or really mistreated in any way. Nope. None of that.

She was a strong survivor. She had a thriving garden and a number of animals of her own. Her house was cute as hell and in really good shape. Her grandmother had taught her to sew and the rest she learned from books. The little town was powered by a local dam that kept the predatory animals such as the dog packs, at bay with electrified fencing in key areas, including around her goats whom the wolves thought looked super yum yum.

But even she needed supplies. I mean, was she going with a raiding party into a city to get tampons and advil? Ummm ... no obviously. That was terrible. That’s how people died! Those places were not safe. It took rigging and expertise she did not have to be on a scavenger team. Plus do you think they would be cool having one of the few women in town go out with them? You’re dreaming if you think that’s gonna happen buddy and no one went without a team. That was a fucking death wish.

So, she had to shop. She had to trade. Fact of life. They didn’t want her tasty preserves or baking. Nope. That they could do for themselves. She traded the one thing that few had around her - her pussy. Fucked up right?

Prostitution was the oldest game in the book for a reason it turned out. So she went into the store and put in her order for supplies that she needed. Flour, tampons, books for example. There was a tally and a calculation conducted. She was a modest girl. It rarely went above two visits. Then there was a jar. Yup. A fucking jar, with names on it. Men who had paid into the credit system.

“One” The merchant stated bluntly marking it in his book.

“One?” She repeated, a little surprised by how light the requirement was. Her list had been pretty long.

“Yeah, Bernice fell pregnant, she’s off the list until after and maybe permanently since the Bennett brothers are putting serious court to her. All remaining traders just had their value go up.”

That’s what they called them - traders. Like she was wheeling a cart through town with little jars or something instead of letting men cum in a minimum of two holes per trade. It was awesome. By the way, that was sarcasm in case you can’t tell.

“Nice.” She replied with a nod, “I hope the baby is healthy.” That was the customary statement these days when anyone fell pregnant. You see, the virus didn’t exactly go away and infant mortality was high as fuck. It was depressing as hell. She didn’t know a single woman who didn’t half dread getting knocked up, even if they really wanted to be a mother. It was a huge risk and all too likely to end in just more painful loss. Yay for survival.

“We all do.” the merchant stated sincerely as he pushed the jar toward her. Sliding her hand in, she let slips of paper, card stock that was refreshed so often you couldn’t get a feel for any one particular person, just dance through her fingertips. You just had to stick your hand in and pray to whatever god you might actually believe in that you didn’t get one of the gross old coots who thought bathing was fucking optional. Last time she had one of those she had about forty baths and still felt disgusting.

She pulled out the card and took a deep breath before flipping it over. Both her and the merchant looked surprised. “Well good luck there. Didn’t even know he paid in.” The merchant marked his book and then nodded. “I’ll get your order in as soon as ... you have about four days before you’ll have had to pay up.”

That was another thing, the man had to confirm you had ‘paid’. However, if that man lied, he was off the books permanently. Not only that but the other men in town usually paid you a visit and beat the holy hell out of you. It was an honour system true but most followed the rules, out of honour or out of necessity, it didn’t matter at the end of the day. Men who might only get one fuck a year with a ‘willing’ woman weren’t about to lose the privilege because you decided to get fucking cute about it.

“Thanks ... Have a good day now.” She replied with a sincere smile. The merchant was a good man after all. He never put his name in and if he found out one of the men was cruel or unkind even, he’d return their credits and tell them to start getting real used to the sweet feel of their left hand because that was about all they were getting from now on.

She walked through town, that name flipping through her mind. It was just so unexpected.

Well no time like the present she supposed. She had had a bath last night, given the old cunt a tidy and all that. She had a debt to pay and she just knew she wouldn’t sleep right until it was paid off good and proper. Yes, it was a little fucked up but that was the system and she had lived with it for a while now. Strangely you kinda got used to it. Most men were pretty appreciative about it.

Walking down the main street, she noted the weird combination of old and new that had blended together in this world. Cars jerry-rigged with solar panels to charge the batteries travelled on the same road as horse-drawn carriages. Kids wore sneakers cause there were still plenty of those left in old stores but paired them with clearly homemade clothes and then spiked them with leather jackets kitted out with studs and chunks of cell phones used as artistic decoration.

She walked until she hit the slight outskirts of the main town area. She could see him now, his arm lifting as he pounded the steel into shape with a large hammer. Farriers, blacksmiths, knife-makers, welders and so on made a nice living in this new world. You could always tell who they were because they smelled like fire and had arms the size of her entire body it seemed. She licked her lips and straightened her back. For the first time in well over a year, she had to admit that she might just be looking forward to this one.

“Hey ...” She greeted. He put down the hammer and shifted up his eye protection, squinting at her in the bright light of day. “Hey.” He replied back, his voice a little gruff. “You looking for something?” He asked.

“Ummm ... pulled your name.” Turns out all the cool things she was saying in her head since pulling his name had just fallen right on out of her brain. Well I wasn’t cool before, she thought bleakly with a tinge of amusement, Guess I’m not now either. Maybe the next apocalypse.

He stopped, frowning lightly as if he wasn’t sure what she was talking about and then his expression cleared and his eyes grew wide. “Oh.” he said. It was actually more of a sound. He cleared his throat. “I ... I ... yeah. Now?” he queried.

When she nodded, “If you have the time. Otherwise ... I can come back.” I can come back. What the hell, was she Uber Eats? What the fuck is wrong with her?

He shook his head, “Now is good.” He tipped his head toward the interior. “Let me shut this down a bit and then I’ll wash up and be in.”

He seemed nervous. Why did she like that so much? Maybe she was bored of the older guys who just had you bend over or would just unzip when they saw you coming. No effort man. No fucking effort. Literally. Wham bam, you’ve paid for your groceries Ma’am.

Mr. Muscles here better put in some damn effort at least.

#trading in dignity #bedtime stories #stories to read by the northern lights

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years ago

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Eighty-Two: A New Car ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Itachi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: The World’s a Stage ] [ AO3 Link ]

What’s the fun of money if you never spend it? Now, granted...Sasuke’s made some rather questionable purchases over the course of his career. But this is one he can’t seem to bring himself to regret.

He’s always been a sucker for cars...especially fast ones. He’s been to a track a few times to drive the latest and greatest models in horsepower, hugging curves and speeding down straight stretches. There’s a rush to going that fast and feeling the earth fly by beneath him that gets his heart pounding like nothing else.

So, after some debating, he went and got himself a speedster of his own.

A rockstar has money to burn, after all...isn’t it typical to blow it on stuff like this? At least he’s avoided the really terrible ideas like drugs or sex. A car might come with its own set of risks, but...he can handle them.

His manager (who works double time as his brother) is a little exasperated at the purchase, but in the end it’s Sasuke’s decision. “Just...promise me you’ll be careful with it.”

“I’m not that stupid,” the younger sibling assures him with a grin. “Not about to turn myself into a smear on the pavement. The only place this baby’s gonna fly is on the track, Itachi. Calm down.”

That, and...well, they live a rather large city on the coast, with miles of open desert roads not too far from the city limits. A notorious straight stretch has been calling Sasuke’s name for months. And as willing as he typically is to keep his promises to his brother...this one thing he just can’t deny himself.

It’s a hot, dry day like most others. AC keeping the interior pleasantly cool, Sasuke casually makes his way out of town to the east. There’s light traffic, but after a few offshoots...he finds himself alone. Nothing but him, the car, and the open road.

A grin slowly grows across his face, hands on the gear shift and foot resting lightly against the pedal. Then, the pressure slowly grows, shifting each time the engine reaches a new peak. Speed gathers seemingly exponentially until he’s practically flying down the roadway. A lightness overtakes his chest, and he feels a kind of freedom that - as of late - has seemed all but lost.

...that is...until he sees something on the horizon.

Fearing it may be a cop, Sasuke’s snapped from his euphoria, and quickly (but safely) begins to slow down. The closer he gets, the more it looks like a car pulled to the side of the road. Why a cop would be randomly stinging this far down the road seems...odd. Unless it’s to catch fools like himself looking to fly without wings.

But...no. That’s not a cop car. A little SUV tilts slightly down into the surrounding desert, clearly pulled over for a reason, flashers going and looking altogether in distress.

...this isn’t good. They’re miles and miles from town by now. Weighing his options - it could be some kind of trap - Sasuke slows and pulls up alongside the vehicle.

The driver’s side door is open, and from it, sitting sideways in her seat, a young woman is clearly just...waiting. Her head lifts in surprise as he stops, eyes flickering just as suspiciously.

Sasuke rolls down the passenger window. “You, uh...okay?”

For a moment she doesn’t answer, obviously not eager to talk to a stranger. “...it just, um...gave out on me,” is her eventual reply.

“Somebody coming to tow it?”

“Yeah, but...they said they won’t be here for another hour…”

“What?! That’s nuts! You’re gonna bake alive out here, it’s like 105!”

Her lips settle into a grim line. “Yeah, it’s...not fun.”

“Is no one able to come pick you up?”

“Everyone I know is either at work or...out of town.”

“Well, shit. You need a ride?”

“...um…” The wary look returns.

“I know you don’t know me, but uh…” He gestures vaguely, not wanting to pull this card, but… “I’m Sasuke Uchiha. Ever heard of me?”

“Uh...no?”

“I’m a singer. One of those Hollywood assholes. But I swear I’m not the kidnapping people sort of asshole. I just don’t want you stuck out here with no air. That’s torture. Look...you got cell signal?”

“...yeah…?”

“Text someone you know, tell them what’s up. Hell, take a pic with me to prove it. That way if anything happens, someone’ll know, and they can come arrest my ass. But seriously...I just wanna help. You look miserable, and I’ve got a fast, cool ride back into town. Take you wherever you need to go. Scout’s honor.”

She still looks skeptical, but...after thinking over his suggestion, she replies, “...okay.” A bit sheepishly, she gets out of her car, Sasuke parking his in front. Opening a text, she does as suggested, taking a picture with him and sending a brief message.

“Lemme call my brother, too - he can probably help sort things out with your car.”

“Oh, wait - that’s not -?”

“This kinda thing sucks. And I’ve got the means to make it a little easier,” Sasuke insists, cutting off her refusal and dialing the proper number. “Not to be an asshole, but it won’t be a big dent for me. I dunno your situation, but a little help never hurts, right?”

“Why are you...doing this?”

“Why not? You’re in a pinch, I can step in...why wouldn’t I? If I was a jerk, I’d have just waved on my way by. But I’m not. My mama taught me better. Hey, Itachi? Need you to do me a solid. I’ve got a lady here, her car’s broke down, needs a tow…” He moves his phone aside. “Who’s towing it?”

“Um...I think the company is called...Geiger?”

“Geiger. Yeah. We’re probably...I dunno, thirty miles east? Wasn’t paying attention. Yeah, they said it’d be an hour. I say bullshit. I’ll cover it, yeah.” He lifts a hand to cut off her insistence otherwise. “...mhm. Okay, cool. Whatever the shops asks, too. I’ll bring her in so she can get all the paperwork out of the way. Just let them know we’re on our way, I’ll handle the rest. Yup. You’re the best, big bro.” Grinning cheekily against the screen, Sasuke then hangs up. “All right, he’s gonna get everything arranged, so all we gotta do is get you to the shop they’re hauling it to.”

“...you really don’t have to do all this…”

“Consider it karma. I just got a new car. Yours is throwing a fit. It’s only fair. And like I said, I wanna help. My mom’d tan my hide if she heard I did anything less. Which...reminds me, what’s your name?”

“...Hinata.”

“Already said it, but I’m Sasuke. Nice to meet you, circumstances aside. Now, let’s get you back into town. It’ll probably still be a while before they get here and haul your rig back to town, so...anything you want or need to do before we get to the shop?”

“Um...no...the ride is p-plenty, thank you.”

“All right.” Slipping back into his car, he waits for Hinata to do the same.

“Wow, this is...really fancy.”

“My latest self indulgence. I was clearing out her engine when I stumbled upon you.”

“I take it it’s fast…?”

“Hoo, yeah. But uh...we’ll be sticking to the speed limit now that I’ve got a passenger,” Sasuke assures her with a smirk. Turning the car around, he heads back toward town at a much saner pace than he left it. “So...any particular smalltalk you want to try? Or should I just turn on the radio? Or better yet, I could put on my own music and be a real narcissist.”

That earns a soft snort. “Um...I’m good with smalltalk.”

“Cool. What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a florist.”

“Really? My mom really loves flowers. I’ll have to give her your number. She throws a lot of charity events and I bet she’d hire you on to decorate. Do you do that kinda stuff?”

“I...yeah! Though I’ve never done something that...big. Mostly like...small time weddings, or custom bouquets.”

“Gotcha.”

“So...you’re really a famous rockstar?”

“I’m a decent enough name, yeah. I’m a little wounded you’ve never heard of me.”

“Sorry...rock’s not really my genre. Maybe my friend Kiba knows you?”

“If he does, be sure to rub it in his face you met me”

“That’s so mean!” Hinata laughs.

“Tell you what, I’ll sign something for you. If he does know me, it’ll be a consolation prize.”

They chat idly for the next half an hour, getting into town and Sasuke pulling up his GPS to find the right shop. But before they get there, he pulls into a Starbucks drive-thru.

“Want anything?”

“W-what?”

“Don’t want you being dehydrated, right?”

Appearing a bit sheepish, she mumbles, “Um...maybe an iced cinnamon dolce latte…?”

“You got it.” Ordering hers and a plain iced coffee for himself, Sasuke hands her the drink once they’re through. “Get you a little energy and some liquid, huh? Okay, now we can head to the shop. Unless you’re hungry?”

“...are you trying to bribe me?”

“Maybe a teeny bit.”

Hinata has to fight a smile. “No, thank you...this is fine.”

“Suit yourself.” Following the route, he pulls into the lot, and...pauses. That’s...Itachi’s car. “...uh oh.”

“What?”

“Seems big bro decided to do this in person. That’s a little...odd.” Parking, Sasuke gets out just in time to see Itachi emerge. “What an honor.”

“I figured it would be best to make a more...personal impression,” Itachi assures him. “So, this must be miss Hyūga?”

“Yes, sir...your brother really saved my bacon.”

“Funny, I didn’t know he had any reason to head out that far,” Itachi replies, tone suggesting he knows exactly why Sasuke was out there. “...but I’m glad he was there to help. I’ve already arranged any and all payments, so you should be all set to go. They’ll just need you to fill out all the rest of the paperwork, including your insurance information.”

“...I...really don’t know what to say, I…” Hinata wilts a bit in disbelief. “...this is really, really kind. You don’t have to…?”

“Once I set my mind to something, I don’t change it,” Sasuke assures her.

“It’s true. Makes him a nightmare to manage, but someone has to do it,” Itachi adds with a coy smile. “And should you need anything else, don’t hesitate.” He hands her a business card, which she sheepishly takes.

“...thank you. Really, I don’t have any words. This is...huge.”

“Glad to lend a hand. And uh…” Gesturing, Sasuke takes the card back, scribbling his cell number on the rear. “Just for posterity’s sake. Or if you get bored.”

Hinata goes pink in embarrassment, but doesn’t refute it.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me...I’m afraid I have to be going,” Itachi then announces. “And Sasuke, you’ve got that recording session this afternoon - best to leave soon or you’ll be late.”

“Yes, Mom,” Sasuke replies, earning a small giggle from Hinata. “...well, hope things turn out okay with your rig.”

“Yeah, me too...thank you again. I s-sound like a broken record, but...really. You have no idea how much this means.”

“No thanks necessary. But maybe we’ll get coffee again sometime and call it square, huh?”

Hinata blinks...and then slowly goes pink again. Did he just…?

Grinning, he gives her a mock salute before getting into his car, waiting to make sure she makes it inside all right before pulling out and starting to head toward the studio. Sipping his coffee, he subtly nods to himself. A pretty good day, all things considered.

But something tells him he’ll have to endure an Itachi lecture later about his driving...

.oOo.

Disclaimer: I know...literally nothing about cars xD They don't interest me in the slightest (and tbh they kinda scare me lol), so uh...if anything about this is wrong or too vague...blame that, haha! Anywho, a bit of a rockstar AU! Which I think I've had other snippets in, but...nothing actually tied together. This one, at least, is 100% standalone. Sasuke's one of those good guy rockers! His only vice is fast cars...and being a bit of a narcissist x3 But that's okay, we can forgive him for that. Look at all the good he just did! Also that smooth setup for a possible coffee date later ;3 Aaanyway, it's v late, and I'm pooped, and I've got a birthday thing to go to tomorrow, so I'd best sign off! Thanks for reading~

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #uchiha itachi #the world's a stage [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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greatdaysoutuk · 5 years ago

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Where must you experience with your dog in the North East?

Northumberland is home to some must visit spots for dog-lovers, and we have collated a short list of cafes, restaurants and listed manor houses to relax and enjoy some quality time with loved ones and furry friends, for the perfect staycation or days out.

The North East also has a lot to offer in terms of nature, and the region has an award-winning array of natural landscapes which celebrate this…

Hog’s Head Inn

If you’re looking for a dog friendly hotel in Alnwick, this traditional spot was recently a silver award winner in the North East England Tourism Awards.

Both the pub and restaurant of this hotel is appropriately named after Hogsmeade from Harry Potter. It is the perfect place to reside whilst you explore everything the town has to offer, including the nearby Alnwick Castle Gardens or the town square. With 53 spacious en-suite bedrooms couples, families and well- behaved pooches to explore England’s most northern National Park.

The Kingslodge Inn

This spot has a really rustic cottage feel to it, complete with foliage decorating the exterior walls. This Durham bed and breakfast is still very much within the confines of the flaneur-esque sleepy streets of the city centre with plenty of Durham restaurants and pubs to enjoy.

The semi-concealed retreat allows dogs and their owners to saunter back and enjoy a night’s rest after a day of exploring the nearby UNESCO World Heritage Site of Durham Cathedral and Castle. Serving up homely but restaurant standard pub grub, with an impressive selection of local ales and wines for the connoisseurs out there.

Beamish

Beamish offers a unique historical experience and it is a firm favourite with North East natives, plus it is the perfect place to discover how life was before we all relied on mobile phones! You and your dog can stroll through one of Britain’s most visited open “living museums”, finding out about the rich history of the area and its surroundings. A fictional yet functioning town, with a pub, sweet shop and bakery amongst others, visitors and their pets can experience first-hand what life was like in the North East over a hundred years ago.

The Tyne Bar

This quayside pub is a focal point on the Ouseburn valley and it has been since it opened in the 90’s, revolutionising the cultural atmosphere of the area. With an impressive selection of beers, local ales and spirits, it’s a great place to sit amongst the laid-back atmosphere and watch the sunset over the river with their free live music events on a Friday blasting out from under the bridge.

Seaton Lane Inn

This spot makes a perfect base for exploring County Durham and Seaham, nestled a short distance away from Lord Byron’s Walk and only five minutes in a car from the coast. It boasts some seriously impressive food credentials, including the Inn’s famous Sunday dinners which can be enjoyed in their recently refurbished quirky, bohemian interior. It’s known as one of the best places to eat in Seaham!

Wylam Brewery

There is a lot of hype surrounding Wylam Brewery, home to a range of interesting ales and a variety of events such as ‘Battle of the Burger’ and ‘Celebration of Disco’. Don’t let its name put you off – it isn’t the loud, pungent brewery you’re probably thinking of. The eye-catching dome-topped Grand Hall lets streams of natural light shine down onto the many ale taps Wylam is locally known for, such as the infamous Jakehead IPA. Your dog will enjoy the vast grounds, and you can take your pick from numerous street food vans parked up on the grounds.

The Battlesteads

This building was originally a farmstead, and it has been around or centuries., it was recently converted into a Northumbrian Inn, with a secret garden and conservatory for the sunnier months. Flying the flag for the greenest hotel in Northumberland, being the first hotel to install a carbon neutral heating system. Nestled in the sleepy village of Wark, this is a great location to explore the surrounding Hadrian’s Wall area.

Riley’s fish shack

This venue has really soared in both popularity and quality in recent years, and Riley’s Fish Shack is a must-visit if you want to sample some street-food inspired fish dishes. The shack is busy all year round, even in winter, with the help of blankets and heaters, with a canopy sheltering from the rain. As soon as you venture down the steps from the main road, the mouth-watering smell of seared sea food grilled in the wood-fire oven will entice you in.

Eshott Hall

Northumberland won UK Holiday Destination of the Year in 2017, and rightly so: since then, more tourists have spent time uncovering its underrated natural beauty. Eshott Hall fits neatly within the themes of nature and heritage, concealed behind trees and claimed by ivy. The manor house has maintained its Grade II Listed status with its professionalism and grandeur hospitality, where dog owners can bring along their furry loved ones to meander the grounds.

Barter Books

Book worms rejoice! A roaring fire in the winter, a homely café churning out all the seasonal goods from paninis to the nations favourite sausage and mash, as well as a perpetual pot of coffee brewing in the foyer. Dog’s can wander freely between the aisles curiously sniffing the pungent aromas from the first editions of the 19th century onwards, whilst their owners debate which of Hemingway’s poems was his best.

The Salt House Kitchen

The Salt House Kitchen is a reflective mirror of the beach it sits opposite, and its namesake is inspired by the area’s rich history. The beach that it overlooks is where locals used to extract salt from the sea water and dissolve it in salt kitchens. Its canine enthusiasm is so prominent that they’ve even conjured up a menu just for dogs, so their pleading eyes and whimpers will not be in vain. Their outdoor area is designated solely for dogs, so best to bring a jacket in the colder months, as the open sea air can get quite nippy!

The Commissioners Quay Inn

You simply can’t miss this building, the Commissioners Quay Inn is the centerpiece of Blyth’s historic quayside functions as an impressive pub, restaurant and bed and breakfast that sits snugly on Blyth’s historic quay area. With beautiful views of the marina and out towards the sea, you can wake up to the sound of the morning waves from your own personal balcony. If you’re looking to explore the town of Blyth, the Inn allows easy access to all local shops and pubs, despite itself being on the edge of the town’s perimeter.

#dog walks #explore #uk #Great Days Out #Adventure

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hartsbloodcampaign · 5 years ago

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Setting Notes: Elven lands

Sun Elf Territory, South-East. Capital City is The Archenvale Situated in a valley off the eastern coast of the Elven lands. Archenvale is a trade hub for the Elves, arguably the Capitol of the Elven Lands. The sun elven qualities of patience and haughtiness often both demonstrate themselves in their arts, architecture, and craftsmanship. The Archenvale specifically is a feat of beauty and ingenuity. The city acts as a means to impressive both other elves, and the many races that visit their shores. Many buildings have windows, gardens and terraces designed to have full view of the gorgeous sunrises and sunsets visible within the city. At night the streets are well lit by golden faerie lights. The Sun Elf Territory as a whole is lusciously verdant, warm and colourful. Most of the land is sprawling meadows and woods. Trades: Magical Artifacts, Weapons, Armor, Wines, Timber Appearance varies – Hair is often worn loose, and the length is long. Sun Elves are golden or bronze skinned, with hair colours ranging from blonde, light to medium browns, and reds. Eyes can be almost any colour. Most sun elves decorate themselves with gold or mithral embroidery in subtle patterns woven into the design of their clothes and which add to the beauty of the clothing without seeming flashy or showy. Preferred Classes are Wizard, Fighter and Paladin Ruler: Elvenking Iri'thyl, of the Elves of the Sun. Controversial, as he is half moon elf. Geography: Center Interior of the Continent. Winters are mild, summers moderate. Moon Elf Territory, Central Elven Lands. Capital City is The Moonrest Near the Moonsea Bay is a peninsula sheltering the hidden city of Moonrest. Their structures are gorgeous swooping shapes with intricate details, usually in white stone and silver metals. Moonstone, pearls, and opals are often used. Many of the roads and streets were paved with crystal or gems, giving them glittering quality similar to the roofs of most structures. Blueleaf trees are a common sight, sometimes worked into the designs of terraces. There are many waterfalls and pools in the mountain city, but one particularly large waterfall takes up the northern view. Because of this, the city will often get a fine mist in the morning. The Moon Elf Territory as a whole spans from the Northern border to the Drow all the way down to the southern coast. It follows the Silverline River, and encompasses many large lakes. The majority of is thickly forested. Trades: Magical artifacts, Arts, Precious Stones and Pearls, Mining Appearance: varies – Hair colours range from black to silver, sometimes blues or purples. Eyes are often greys or blue and are always speckled with yellow. Most moon elves wear their hair in braids or ponytails, decorated with wires or beads. Preferred Classes: are Cleric, Sorcerer, and Ranger Ruler: Elvenqueen Kal'doreia, of the Elves of the Moon. Geography: South-western island off the coast of The Elven Lands. Climate is mild, protected by mountains on all sides. Woold Elf Territory, West. Capital City is The Everglen. They create homes that work with the environment rather than against. They deeply care about leaving a minimal impact on their environment. They tend more towards wooden artistry than non-native stone or metal in their structures. Much of their craftsmanship, including their clothing has plant and animal motifs. Stone buildings were usually crafted from a single piece of rock, the buildings made from wood had roofs of magically created bark or leaves. Trades: Timber, Agriculture, Woodcraft, Weapons Appearance – Generally they have coppery skin with green, brown, or hazel eyes. Hair ranges from tawny blonde, browns, and black. Very rarely you'll find auburn or a strawberry blonde. They tend to dress in earthy tones. Preferred Classes are Rangers, Druids, and Rogues. Ruler: Elvenking Arvyn'dar, of the Elves of the Wood Geography: Interior west of the Elf Lands, Moderate climate. Drow Territory, Far North. Capital City is The Underdark. An underground epicenter linked through labyrinthine tunnels. Some tunnels lead to the surface, the rest to other Drow areas of the Underlands. The cities are mainly carved from stalagmites and stalactites. Lit by blue, green, or purple faerie fire it is eerily beautiful in places. Enchantments reduce echoes, and the roar of an underground waterfall and river could be heard throughout The Underdark. In the center was the pillar clock tower Marbondel. The Underlands are filled with the subterranean beasts the Drow have tamed for travel and beasts of burden. Their lands have also branched into the Eborn Reaches, taking land from Netheril. Trades: Weapons, Armor, Mining, Lace Fungus Brandy Appearance – They are shorter than most elves. Skintones range from medium grey, grey-blue, grey-purple, to obsidian black. Hair colours are always off-white, with the rare silver or pale gold (there is a superstition among Drow that they are weaker). Eyes tend to be pale blue, lilac, red, pink, tawny brown, or silver. Preferred Classes are Rogue, Cleric, and Warlock. Religion: Church of Lolth Ruler: Priestess Thae’yalla Geography: North-eastern edge of The Elflands, deep in Drow territory – which also spreads to the west of Netheril. Lumanthiashae, Capital City of the Saltwater Merfolk An almost entirely underwater city carved into and around a dormant underwater volcano. There are many areas of the city within the mountain that are filled with air. The city is very beautiful, but gets few non-merfolk visitors. It's isolation and nearby predators has lead to the steep decline of the population. Trades: include Fishing, Pearls, Magic Artifacts Appearance: Their skin usually takes on a pale blue, green, or lavender tone depending on the pigments in the seafood that makes up the bulk of their diet. They are usually mottled with spots, with a pale belly area. Merfolk tend to be slender with long legs, but get porpoise tails in water. They have small dorsal fins on their arms, legs and back. They tend to keep their hair tied back or braided, especially when traveling far distances in the water. Hair is usually dark, usually browns, blacks, greens or blues. Rarely will it be auburn, or dirty blond. Eyes are very dark and large. Preferred Classes are Bard, Ranger, Entrancer, Druid, and Sorceror Religions: The Merfolk are a fey race, and follow Sashelas. They also worship her children as demigods, and fear but respect the Dark Sea Goddess Umberlee. Ruler: Merqueen Elasha'Gwin Geography: In the The Great Sea equidistant from Calimshar and the Southern Dwarf Lands. Sembershae, Major city for the Northern Saltwater Merfolk Partially underwater, the majority of the city is in a carvenous cave on the mountainous Sember Island. Blue orbs provide luminescent light for the cuty at night and during its many foggy days. They use magic to help water plants thrives in the city walls, adding extra sustenance and beauty through the morose winters. Trades include Fishing, Pearls, Water-grown foods Appearance: On average more pale tones of the merfolk range. Preferred Classes are Bard, Ranger, Rogues, Entrancer and Sorceror Religions: The Merfolk are a fey race, and follow Sashelas. They also worship her children as demigods, and fear but respect the Dark Sea Goddess Umberlee. Ruler: Merqueen Ella'shore Geography: North of Netheril, on Sember Island. Lyreldinshae, Major City of the Freshwater Merfolk of the Eborn Reaches. A sister city to the Freshwater Merfolk capitol in the Elvenlands, Lyreldinshae is more visited than the other Merfolk capitols. The city is submerged on the west side where the water levels rose, naturally the merfolk had no issues with it and embraced the water canals as their city roads. Reeds and other water plants flourish across the city. At night, blue-green glowing lanterns light the city – looking enticing from the lake shores. Trades include Fishing, Arts, and the most sought-after Music. Appearance: On average will be the richer tones of the merfolk range, tending towards greens and browns. Preferred Classes are Bard, Rogue, Ranger, Druid and Cleric. Religions: The Merfolk are a fey race, and follow Sashelas. They also worship her children as demigods, and fear but respect the Dark Sea Goddess Umberlee. Ruler: Merking Mirol'vel Geography: Center of Great Lyren Lake

#resources #locations

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omansafaritours-blog · 2 years ago

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Salalah Travel Guide for your Ultimate Vacation Plan

Oman’s Southern city and capital of the Dhofar Governorate, Salalah, is a vacationer's dream come true. Its lush and green beauty attracts tourists all year round. For those who are unaware, Salalah was the trade center in the 13th century. The city, at one point, was the capital of Dhofar and the center of incense trade. Then the city went into ruins and came into notice only in the 19th century. From 1932-1970 it was named the capital of Oman. Here we will tell you about the places you should visit if you choose a Salalah holiday package from Dubai.

Al Baleed Archaeological site

These are the remains of the city of Zaheer. This is where frankincense was loaded for India. The area has a history dating back 4000 years. For better insights into the area, visit the Museum of the Frankincense land. The fee for entry to the museum is 2 OMR. The place finds mention in UNESCO’s World Heritage sites, and the Park is open from 8 am to 8 pm

Al Husn Souq

You can go there to buy all kinds of stuff. It is also called the Frankincense Souq. However, the Souk remains closed from 12 pm-4 pm every day. The Peak visiting months are in the Kharif season, i.e., July-August. Here you can buy traditional Omani dresses, perfumes, incense burners, etc.

Mughsail Beach

Mughsail Beach is one of the most visited tourist spots here. Close by is located the Al Marneef cave. The cave is a strange-looking rock formation on the coast. You can also visit the Mughsail Blowholes, which is a view to watch.

Khor Rori

The Khor Rori is situated in the east of Salalah. It was an important trading post in ancient times. You can visit the Sumhuram Archaeological park as a part of the Salalah tour packages.

Taqah Castle

The Taqah Castle is an exotic fairy tale location. It is located in the east of Salalah. The place is home to a beautiful white sand beach. The Taqah castle dates back to the 19th century, and the entry to the Taqah castle is 0.5 OMR. When there, don’t forget to see the merging of three topographies at this place.

Visit the fruit plantations

Due to the subtropical climate here, this place has many fruit-growing plantations. The popular fruits found here include coconuts, papayas, and bananas. It is located two kilometers east of Chronic in Salalah. There is a fantastic variety to choose from, and in the monsoon season, the place is green and lushier.

Dahariz Beach

This is the only beach located in the middle of the city. The Coconut trees line up the borders of the beach. The well-decorated promenade attracts tourists. This is the perfect location to have an enjoyable picnic.

Sultan Qaboos Mosque

The mosque boasts of pristine white Omani architecture. It has a colossal complex with carpeted interiors. The attractive and rich wall engravings here are a must-see. Fridays are busy days, so avoid visiting on that day.

Al Hosn Palace

This is a picturesque palace reminiscent of the ancient era. It is located in Central Salalah. The palace is surrounded by palm-fringed boundaries and takes around 1-2 hours to explore.

Wadi Darbat

The Wadi Darbat offers an exotic view of lakes, mountains, waterfalls, and caves. It is a destination suitable for nature lovers and history buffs. Very close to the cave are multiple stalactites and stalagmites. You will get enthralled by the colored animal paintings on the walls. The place is an integral part of the honeymoon packages in Salalah.

Complete the Frankincense trail

Here you can plan a visit to the Nabi Ayoub Prophet Job’s tomb. The place has spectacular views of plains, mountains, and green plains. Enjoy the scary hairpin bends on the road to Yemen. Also, see Frankincense trees as they line up onto the route. Don’t forget to visit the nearby bird sanctuary that sees seasonal birds.

Enjoy gazing at wildlife at Jebel Samhan

The Jebel Samhan is 73 km far from the City center. This wildlife sanctuary is home to the Arabian leopard. You will need a permit to enter the area. There are many more animals to have a look at.

Tawi Atair Sinkhole

It is Also known as the “Well of birds” and has one of the most gorgeous sinkholes. Alongside are honeycombed limestones that add to the beauty. This is the world’s largest sinkhole, nearly 1 km long and 200 meters deep.

Gun Souq

The Gun Souq is located in the center of the city. You can purchase any kind of firearm here. However, these items are antiques only for decorative purposes. You can also buy traditional knives here.

Nabi Imran Tomb

The Nabi Imran Tomb is the longest tomb in the world. It is the resting place of prophet Imran, an important Islamic prophet. The entire grave is 41 feet long and is located in the hills of Dhofar. There is a small mosque located nearby. Along with a well-designed garden adds to the serenity of the area.

Nabi Hud Tomb

The tomb is almost 22 km far from the city center. Prophet Hud was sent to preach faith to the residents of Aad. The entire tomb is around 3 meters long and 1.5 meters high.

#honeymoon packages in salalah #salalah tour packages #salalah holiday package from dubai

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paraparaparadigm · 6 years ago

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It had been like dying, that sliding down the mountain pass. It had been like the death of someone, irrational, that sliding down the mountain pass and into the region of dread. It was like slipping into fever, or falling down that hole in sleep from which you wake yourself whimpering. We had crossed the mountains that day, and now we were in a strange place—a hotel in central Washington, in a town near Yakima. The eclipse we had traveled here to see would occur early in the next morning.

I lay in bed. My husband, Gary, was reading beside me. I lay in bed and looked at the painting on the hotel room wall. It was a print of a detailed and lifelike painting of a smiling clown’s head, made out of vegetables. It was a painting of the sort which you do not intend to look at, and which, alas, you never forget. Some tasteless fate presses it upon you; it becomes part of the complex interior junk you carry with you wherever you go. Two years have passed since the total eclipse of which I write. During those years I have forgotten, I assume, a great many things I wanted to remember—but I have not forgotten that clown painting or its lunatic setting in the old hotel. The clown was bald. Actually, he wore a clown’s tight rubber wig, painted white; this stretched over the top of his skull, which was a cabbage. His hair was bunches of baby carrots. Inset in his white clown makeup, and in his cabbage skull, were his small and laughing human eyes. The clown’s glance was like the glance of Rembrandt in some of the self-portraits: lively, knowing, deep, and loving. The crinkled shadows around his eyes were string beans. His eyebrows were parsley. Each of his ears was a broad bean. His thin, joyful lips were red chili peppers; between his lips were wet rows of human teeth and a suggestion of a real tongue. The clown print was framed in gilt and glassed.

To put ourselves in the path of the total eclipse, that day we had driven five hours inland from the Washington coast, where we lived. When we tried to cross the Cascades range, an avalanche had blocked the pass.

A slope’s worth of snow blocked the road; traffic backed up. Had the avalanche buried any cars that morning? We could not learn. This highway was the only winter road over the mountains. We waited as highway crews bulldozed a passage through the avalanche. With two-by-fours and walls of plywood, they erected a one-way, roofed tunnel through the avalanche. We drove through the avalanche tunnel, crossed the pass, and descended several thousand feet into central Washington and the broad Yakima valley, about which we knew only that it was orchard country. As we lost altitude, the snows disappeared; our ears popped; the trees changed, and in the trees were strange birds. I watched the landscape innocently, like a fool, like a diver in the rapture of the deep who plays on the bottom while his air runs out.

The hotel lobby was a dark, derelict room, narrow as a corridor, and seemingly without air. We waited on a couch while the manager vanished upstairs to do something unknown to our room. Beside us on an overstuffed chair, absolutely motionless, was a platinum-blonde woman in her forties wearing a black silk dress and a strand of pearls. Her long legs were crossed; she supported her head on her fist. At the dim far end of the room, their backs toward us, sat six bald old men in their shirtsleeves, around a loud television. Two of them seemed asleep. They were drunks. “Number six!” cried the man on television, “Number six!”

On the broad lobby desk, lighted and bubbling, was a ten-gallon aquarium containing one large fish; the fish tilted up and down in its water. Against the long opposite wall sang a live canary in its cage. Beneath the cage, among spilled millet seeds on the carpet, were a decorated child’s sand bucket and matching sand shovel.

Now the alarm was set for 6. I lay awake remembering an article I had read downstairs in the lobby, in an engineering magazine. The article was about gold mining.

In South Africa, in India, and in South Dakota, the gold mines extend so deeply into the Earth’s crust that they are hot. The rock walls burn the miners’ hands. The companies have to air-condition the mines; if the air conditioners break, the miners die. The elevators in the mine shafts run very slowly, down, and up, so the miners’ ears will not pop in their skulls. When the miners return to the surface, their faces are deathly pale.

Early the next morning we checked out. It was February 26, 1979, a Monday morning. We would drive out of town, find a hilltop, watch the eclipse, and then drive back over the mountains and home to the coast. How familiar things are here; how adept we are; how smoothly and professionally we check out! I had forgotten the clown’s smiling head and the hotel lobby as if they had never existed. Gary put the car in gear and off we went, as off we have gone to a hundred other adventures.

It was dawn when we found a highway out of town and drove into the unfamiliar countryside. By the growing light we could see a band of cirrostratus clouds in the sky. Later the rising sun would clear these clouds before the eclipse began. We drove at random until we came to a range of unfenced hills. We pulled off the highway, bundled up, and climbed one of these hills.

The hill was 500 feet high. Long winter-killed grass covered it, as high as our knees. We climbed and rested, sweating in the cold; we passed clumps of bundled people on the hillside who were setting up telescopes and fiddling with cameras. The top of the hill stuck up in the middle of the sky. We tightened our scarves and looked around.

East of us rose another hill like ours. Between the hills, far below, 13 was the highway which threaded south into the valley. This was the Yakima valley; I had never seen it before. It is justly famous for its beauty, like every planted valley. It extended south into the horizon, a distant dream of a valley, a Shangri-la. All its hundreds of low, golden slopes bore orchards. Among the orchards were towns, and roads, and plowed and fallow fields. Through the valley wandered a thin, shining river; from the river extended fine, frozen irrigation ditches. Distance blurred and blued the sight, so that the whole valley looked like a thickness or sediment at the bottom of the sky. Directly behind us was more sky, and empty lowlands blued by distance, and Mount Adams. Mount Adams was an enormous, snow-covered volcanic cone rising flat, like so much scenery.

Now the sun was up. We could not see it; but the sky behind the band of clouds was yellow, and, far down the valley, some hillside orchards had lighted up. More people were parking near the highway and climbing the hills. It was the West. All of us rugged individualists were wearing knit caps and blue nylon parkas. People were climbing the nearby hills and setting up shop in clumps among the dead grasses. It looked as though we had all gathered on hilltops to pray for the world on its last day. It looked as though we had all crawled out of spaceships and were preparing to assault the valley below. It looked as though we were scattered on hilltops at dawn to sacrifice virgins, make rain, set stone stelae in a ring. There was no place out of the wind. The straw grasses banged our legs.

Up in the sky where we stood the air was lusterless yellow. To the west the sky was blue. Now the sun cleared the clouds. We cast rough shadows on the blowing grass; freezing, we waved our arms. Near the sun, the sky was bright and colorless. There was nothing to see.

It began with no ado. It was odd that such a well advertised public event should have no starting gun, no overture, no introductory speaker. I should have known right then that I was out of my depth. Without pause or preamble, silent as orbits, a piece of the sun went away. We looked at it through welders’ goggles. A piece of the sun was missing; in its place we saw empty sky.

I had seen a partial eclipse in 1970. A partial eclipse is very interesting. It bears almost no relation to a total eclipse. Seeing a partial eclipse bears the same relation to seeing a total eclipse as kissing a man does to marrying him, or as flying in an airplane does to falling out of an airplane. Although the one experience precedes the other, it in no way prepares you for it. During a partial eclipse the sky does not darken—not even when 94 percent of the sun is hidden. Nor does the sun, seen colorless through protective devices, seem terribly strange. We have all seen a sliver of light in the sky; we have all seen the crescent moon by day. However, during a partial eclipse the air does indeed get cold, precisely as if someone were standing between you and the fire. And blackbirds do fly back to their roosts. I had seen a partial eclipse before, and here was another.

What you see in an eclipse is entirely different from what you know. It is especially different for those of us whose grasp of astronomy is so frail that, given a flashlight, a grapefruit, two oranges, and 15 years, we still could not figure out which way to set the clocks for daylight saving time. Usually it is a bit of a trick to keep your knowledge from blinding you. But during an eclipse it is easy. What you see is much more convincing than any wild-eyed theory you may know.

You may read that the moon has something to do with eclipses. I have never seen the moon yet. You do not see the moon. So near the sun, it is as completely invisible as the stars are by day. What you see before your eyes is the sun going through phases. It gets narrower and narrower, as the waning moon does, and, like the ordinary moon, it travels alone in the simple sky. The sky is of course background. It does not appear to eat the sun; it is far behind the sun. The sun simply shaves away; gradually, you see less sun and more sky.

The sky’s blue was deepening, but there was no darkness. The sun was a wide crescent, like a segment of tangerine. The wind freshened and blew steadily over the hill. The eastern hill across the highway grew dusky and sharp. The towns and orchards in the valley to the south were dissolving into the blue light. Only the thin river held a trickle of sun.

Now the sky to the west deepened to indigo, a color never seen. A dark sky usually loses color. This was a saturated, deep indigo, up in the air. Stuck up into that unworldly sky was the cone of Mount Adams, and the alpenglow was upon it. The alpenglow is that red light of sunset which holds out on snowy mountaintops long after the valleys and tablelands are dimmed. “Look at Mount Adams,” I said, and that was the last sane moment I remember.

I turned back to the sun. It was going. The sun was going, and the world was wrong. The grasses were wrong; they were platinum. Their every detail of stem, head, and blade shone lightless and artificially distinct as an art photographer’s platinum print. This color has never been seen on Earth. The hues were metallic; their finish was matte. The hillside was a 19th-century tinted photograph from which the tints had faded. All the people you see in the photograph, distinct and detailed as their faces look, are now dead. The sky was navy blue. My hands were silver. All the distant hills’ grasses were finespun metal which the wind laid down. I was watching a faded color print of a movie filmed in the Middle Ages; I was standing in it, by some mistake. I was standing in a movie of hillside grasses filmed in the Middle Ages. I missed my own century, the people I knew, and the real light of day.

I looked at Gary. He was in the film. Everything was lost. He was a platinum print, a dead artist’s version of life. I saw on his skull the darkness of night mixed with the colors of day. My mind was going out; my eyes were receding the way galaxies recede to the rim of space. Gary was light-years away, gesturing inside a circle of darkness, down the wrong end of a telescope. He smiled as if he saw me; the stringy crinkles around his eyes moved. The sight of him, familiar and wrong, was something I was remembering from centuries hence, from the other side of death: Yes, that is the way he used to look, when we were living. When it was our generation’s turn to be alive. I could not hear him; the wind was too loud. Behind him the sun was going. We had all started down a chute of time. At first it was pleasant; now there was no stopping it. Gary was chuting away across space, moving and talking and catching my eye, chuting down the long corridor of separation. The skin on his face moved like thin bronze plating that would peel.

The grass at our feet was wild barley. It was the wild einkorn wheat which grew on the hilly flanks of the Zagros Mountains, above the Euphrates valley, above the valley of the river we called River. We harvested the grass with stone sickles, I remember. We found the grasses on the hillsides; we built our shelter beside them and cut them down. That is how he used to look then, that one, moving and living and catching my eye, with the sky so dark behind him, and the wind blowing. God save our life.

From all the hills came screams. A piece of sky beside the crescent sun was detaching. It was a loosened circle of evening sky, suddenly lighted from the back. It was an abrupt black body out of nowhere; it was a flat disk; it was almost over the sun. That is when there were screams. At once this disk of sky slid over the sun like a lid. The sky snapped over the sun like a lens cover. The hatch in the brain slammed. Abruptly it was dark night, on the land and in the sky. In the night sky was a tiny ring of light. The hole where the sun belongs is very small. A thin ring of light marked its place. There was no sound. The eyes dried, the arteries drained, the lungs hushed. There was no world. We were the world’s dead people rotating and orbiting around and around, embedded in the planet’s crust, while the Earth rolled down. Our minds were light-years distant, forgetful of almost everything. Only an extraordinary act of will could recall to us our former, living selves and our contexts in matter and time. We had, it seems, loved the planet and loved our lives, but could no longer remember the way of them. We got the light wrong. In the sky was something that should not be there. In the black sky was a ring of light. It was a thin ring, an old, thin silver wedding band, an old, worn ring. It was an old wedding band in the sky, or a morsel of bone. There were stars. It was all over.

It is now that the temptation is strongest to leave these regions. We have seen enough; let’s go. Why burn our hands any more than we have to? But two years have passed; the price of gold has risen. I return to the same buried alluvial beds and pick through the strata again.

I saw, early in the morning, the sun diminish against a backdrop of sky. I saw a circular piece of that sky appear, suddenly detached, blackened, and backlighted; from nowhere it came and overlapped the sun. It did not look like the moon. It was enormous and black. If I had not read that it was the moon, I could have seen the sight a hundred times and never thought of the moon once. (If, however, I had not read that it was the moon—if, like most of the world’s people throughout time, I had simply glanced up and seen this thing—then I doubtless would not have speculated much, but would have, like Emperor Louis of Bavaria in 840, simply died of fright on the spot.) It did not look like a dragon, although it looked more like a dragon than the moon. It looked like a lens cover, or the lid of a pot. It materialized out of thin air—black, and flat, and sliding, outlined in flame.

Seeing this black body was like seeing a mushroom cloud. The heart screeched. The meaning of the sight overwhelmed its fascination. It obliterated meaning itself. If you were to glance out one day and see a row of mushroom clouds rising on the horizon, you would know at once that what you were seeing, remarkable as it was, was intrinsically not worth remarking. No use running to tell anyone. Significant as it was, it did not matter a whit. For what is significance? It is significance for people. No people, no significance. This is all I have to tell you.

In the deeps are the violence and terror of which psychology has warned us. But if you ride these monsters deeper down, if you drop with them farther over the world’s rim, you find what our sciences cannot locate or name, the substrate, the ocean or matrix or ether which buoys the rest, which gives goodness its power for good, and evil. Its power for evil, the unified field: our complex and inexplicable caring for each other, and for our life together here. This is given. It is not learned.

The world which lay under darkness and stillness following the closing of the lid was not the world we know. The event was over. Its devastation lay around about us. The clamoring mind and heart stilled, almost indifferent, certainly disembodied, frail, and exhausted. The hills were hushed, obliterated. Up in the sky, like a crater from some distant cataclysm, was a hollow ring.

You have seen photographs of the sun taken during a total eclipse. The corona fills the print. All of those photographs were taken through telescopes. The lenses of telescopes and cameras can no more cover the breadth and scale of the visual array than language can cover the breadth and simultaneity of internal experience. Lenses enlarge the sight, omit its context, and make of it a pretty and sensible picture, like something on a Christmas card. I assure you, if you send any shepherds a Christmas card on which is printed a three-by-three photograph of the angel of the Lord, the glory of the Lord, and a multitude of the heavenly host, they will not be sore afraid. More fearsome things can come in envelopes. More moving photographs than those of the sun’s corona can appear in magazines. But I pray you will never see anything more awful in the sky.

You see the wide world swaddled in darkness; you see a vast breadth of hilly land, and an enormous, distant, blackened valley; you see towns’ lights, a river’s path, and blurred portions of your hat and scarf; you see your husband’s face looking like an early black-and-white film; and you see a sprawl of black sky and blue sky together, with unfamiliar stars in it, some barely visible bands of cloud, and over there, a small white ring. The ring is as small as one goose in a flock of migrating geese—if you happen to notice a flock of migrating geese. It is one-360th part of the visible sky. The sun we see is less than half the diameter of a dime held at arm’s length.

The Crab Nebula, in the constellation Taurus, looks, through binoculars, like a smoke ring. It is a star in the process of exploding. Light from its explosion first reached the Earth in 1054; it was a supernova then, and so bright it shone in the daytime. Now it is not so bright, but it is still exploding. It expands at the rate of 70 million miles a day. It is interesting to look through binoculars at something expanding 70 million miles a day. It does not budge. Its apparent size does not increase. Photographs of the Crab Nebula taken 15 years ago seem identical to photographs of it taken yesterday. Some lichens are similar. Botanists have measured some ordinary lichens twice, at 50-year intervals, without detecting any growth at all. And yet their cells divide; they live.

The small ring of light was like these things—like a ridiculous lichen up in the sky, like a perfectly still explosion 4,200 light-years away: It was interesting, and lovely, and in witless motion, and it had nothing to do with anything.

It had nothing to do with anything. The sun was too small, and too cold, and too far away, to keep the world alive. The white ring was not enough. It was feeble and worthless. It was as useless as a memory; it was as off-kilter and hollow and wretched as a memory.

When you try your hardest to recall someone’s face, or the look of a place, you see in your mind’s eye some vague and terrible sight such as this. It is dark; it is insubstantial; it is all wrong.

The white ring and the saturated darkness made the Earth and the sky look as they must look in the memories of the careless dead. What I saw, what I seemed to be standing in, was all the wrecked light that the memories of the dead could shed upon the living world. We had all died in our boots on the hilltops of Yakima, and were alone in eternity. Empty space stoppered our eyes and mouths; we cared for nothing. We remembered our living days wrong. With great effort we had remembered some sort of circular light in the sky—but only the outline. Oh, and then the orchard trees withered, the ground froze, the glaciers slid down the valleys and overlapped the towns. If there had ever been people on Earth, nobody knew it. The dead had forgotten those they had loved. The dead were parted one from the other and could no longer remember the faces and lands they had loved in the light. They seemed to stand on darkened hilltops, looking down.

We teach our children one thing only, as we were taught: to wake up. We teach our children to look alive there, to join by words and activities the life of human culture on the planet’s crust. As adults we are almost all adept at waking up. We have so mastered the transition we have forgotten we ever learned it. Yet it is a transition we make a hundred times a day, as, like so many will-less dolphins, we plunge and surface, lapse and emerge. We live half our waking lives and all of our sleeping lives in some private, useless, and insensible waters we never mention or recall. Useless, I say. Valueless, I might add—until someone hauls their wealth up to the surface and into the wide-awake city, in a form that people can use.

I do not know how we got to the restaurant. Like Roethke, “I take my waking slow.” Gradually I seemed more or less alive, and already forgetful. It was now almost 9 in the morning. It was the day of a solar eclipse in central Washington, and a fine adventure for everyone. The sky was clear; there was a fresh breeze out of the north.

The restaurant was a roadside place with tables and booths. The other eclipse-watchers were there. From our booth we could see their cars’ California license plates, their University of Washington parking stickers. Inside the restaurant we were all eating eggs or waffles; people were fairly shouting and exchanging enthusiasms, like fans after a World Series game. Did you see ... ? Did you see ... ? Then somebody said something which knocked me for a loop.

A college student, a boy in a blue parka who carried a Hasselblad, said to us, “Did you see that little white ring? It looked like a Life Saver. It looked like a Life Saver up in the sky.”

And so it did. The boy spoke well. He was a walking alarm clock. I myself had at that time no access to such a word. He could write a sentence, and I could not. I grabbed that Life Saver and rode it to the surface. And I had to laugh. I had been dumbstruck on the Euphrates River, I had been dead and gone and grieving, all over the sight of something which, if you could claw your way up to that level, you would grant looked very much like a Life Saver. It was good to be back among people so clever; it was good to have all the world’s words at the mind’s disposal, so the mind could begin its task. All those things for which we have no words are lost. The mind—the culture—has two little tools, grammar and lexicon: a decorated sand bucket and a matching shovel. With these we bluster about the continents and do all the world’s work. With these we try to save our very lives.

There are a few more things to tell from this level, the level of the restaurant. One is the old joke about breakfast. “It can never be satisfied, the mind, never.” Wallace Stevens wrote that, and in the long run he was right. The mind wants to live forever, or to learn a very good reason why not. The mind wants the world to return its love, or its awareness; the mind wants to know all the world, and all eternity, and God. The mind’s sidekick, however, will settle for two eggs over easy.

The dear, stupid body is as easily satisfied as a spaniel. And, incredibly, the simple spaniel can lure the brawling mind to its dish. It is everlastingly funny that the proud, metaphysically ambitious, clamoring mind will hush if you give it an egg.

Further: While the mind reels in deep space, while the mind grieves or fears or exults, the workaday senses, in ignorance or idiocy, like so many computer terminals printing out market prices while the world blows up, still transcribe their little data and transmit them to the warehouse in the skull. Later, under the tranquilizing influence of fried eggs, the mind can sort through this data. The restaurant was a halfway house, a decompression chamber. There I remembered a few things more.

The deepest, and most terrifying, was this: I have said that I heard screams. (I have since read that screaming, with hysteria, is a common reaction even to expected total eclipses.) People on all the hillsides, including, I think, myself, screamed when the black body of the moon detached from the sky and rolled over the sun. But something else was happening at that same instant, and it was this, I believe, which made us scream.

The second before the sun went out we saw a wall of dark shadow come speeding at us. We no sooner saw it than it was upon us, like thunder. It roared up the valley. It slammed our hill and knocked us out. It was the monstrous swift shadow cone of the moon. I have since read that this wave of shadow moves 1,800 miles an hour. Language can give no sense of this sort of speed—1,800 miles an hour. It was 195 miles wide. No end was in sight—you saw only the edge. It rolled at you across the land at 1,800 miles an hour, hauling darkness like plague behind it. Seeing it, and knowing it was coming straight for you, was like feeling a slug of anesthetic shoot up your arm. If you think very fast, you may have time to think, “Soon it will hit my brain.” You can feel the deadness race up your arm; you can feel the appalling, inhuman speed of your own blood. We saw the wall of shadow coming, and screamed before it hit.

This was the universe about which we have read so much and never before felt: the universe as a clockwork of loose spheres flung at stupefying, unauthorized speeds. How could anything moving so fast not crash, not veer from its orbit amok like a car out of control on a turn?

Less than two minutes later, when the sun emerged, the trailing edge of the shadow cone sped away. It coursed down our hill and raced eastward over the plain, faster than the eye could believe; it swept over the plain and dropped over the planet’s rim in a twinkling. It had clobbered us, and now it roared away. We blinked in the light. It was as though an enormous, loping god in the sky had reached down and slapped the Earth’s face.

Something else, something more ordinary, came back to me along about the third cup of coffee. During the moments of totality, it was so dark that drivers on the highway below turned on their cars’ headlights. We could see the highway’s route as a strand of lights. It was bumper-to-bumper down there. It was 8:15 in the morning, Monday morning, and people were driving into Yakima to work. That it was as dark as night, and eerie as hell, an hour after dawn, apparently meant that in order to see to drive to work, people had to use their headlights. Four or five cars pulled off the road. The rest, in a line at least five miles long, drove to town. The highway ran between hills; the people could not have seen any of the eclipsed sun at all. Yakima will have another total eclipse in 2086. Perhaps, in 2086, businesses will give their employees an hour off.

From the restaurant we drove back to the coast. The highway crossing the Cascades range was open. We drove over the mountain like old pros. We joined our places on the planet’s thin crust; it held. For the time being, we were home free.

Early that morning at 6, when we had checked out, the six bald men were sitting on folding chairs in the dim hotel lobby. The television was on. Most of them were awake. You might drown in your own spittle, God knows, at any time; you might wake up dead in a small hotel, a cabbage head watching TV while snows pile up in the passes, watching TV while the chili peppers smile and the moon passes over the sun and nothing changes and nothing is learned because you have lost your bucket and shovel and no longer care. What if you regain the surface and open your sack and find, instead of treasure, a beast which jumps at you? Or you may not come back at all. The winches may jam, the scaffolding buckle, the air conditioning collapse. You may glance up one day and see by your headlamp the canary keeled over in its cage. You may reach into a cranny for pearls and touch a moray eel. You yank on your rope; it is too late.

Apparently people share a sense of these hazards, for when the total eclipse ended, an odd thing happened.

When the sun appeared as a blinding bead on the ring’s side, the eclipse was over. The black lens cover appeared again, back-lighted, and slid away. At once the yellow light made the sky blue again; the black lid dissolved and vanished. The real world began there. I remember now: We all hurried away. We were born and bored at a stroke. We rushed down the hill. We found our car; we saw the other people streaming down the hillsides; we joined the highway traffic and drove away.

We never looked back. It was a general vamoose, and an odd one, for when we left the hill, the sun was still partially eclipsed—a sight rare enough, and one which, in itself, we would probably have driven five hours to see. But enough is enough. One turns at last even from glory itself with a sigh of relief. From the depths of mystery, and even from the heights of splendor, we bounce back and hurry for the latitudes of home.

#Total Solar Eclipse #Great American Eclipse #Eclipse

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rocketwerks · 7 years ago

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Broad Street Station

AKA Science Museum of Virginia 2500 West Broad Street Built, 1919 Architect, John Russell Pope VDHR 127-0226

May 2018

A massive neoclassical temple from the Golden Age of Railroads.

(LOC) — John Russell Pope, rocking his best Howard Roark look

Richmond's Broad Street Station ranks among the Commonwealth's most distinguished and ambitious works of architecture. The design for this monumental edifice was provided by John Russell Pope, one of the most prominent architects of his day, whose work includes the designs for such nationally famous landmarks as the Jefferson Memorial and the National Gallery of Art.

[OHFYH] — 1926

Completed in 1919, after a construction period of two years, Broad Street Station was among the last of the great rail terminals to be built in what has been termed the "Golden Age of Railroads."

(VDHR) — 1971 nomination photo

Pope's monumental design symbolizes the importance that train travel once had in America. Neoclassical in form, the station is dominated by a vast, domed, central waiting room, flanked by two wings, and a long projection or concourse on the rear from which access to the tracks is obtained. A passenger enters the static via a hexa-style-in-antis, Roman Doric portico surmounted by a full entablature and a parapet. The interior of the portico has a coffered, barrel vaulted ceiling. Crowning the central portion of the building is a saucer shaped, copper dome, supported on a low octagonal drum with large lunettes on its four greater sides. The three-storied wings are separated by simple pilasters into three bays on their front and rear facades and six bays on their sides. There are cast-iron and glass canopies supported by ornamental brackets around the first fl'or level of each of the wings for passenger unloading. The entablature and a slight parapet continue around the wings and into the long, rear concourse.

(Bluffton University)

In June, 1951, a section of the massive dome slipped because of lightening damage. One hundred twenty feet of a concrete ledge surrounding the dome collapsed and loosened the tile covering of the dome. This necessitated the removal of the rest of the tile, and a replacement with copper sheathing.

May 2018

Unlike many stations of its era, Broad Street does not have one large train shed, but rather, a series of covered platforms below the concourse supported by cast-iron Ionic columns. The placement of the station on a promontory of land created an ideal position for the tracks at the base of the slope.

May 2018

Entrance to the station can also be had from the one-story east west axis, which crosses the longitudinal axis just behind the main lobby. At the intersection, there is a square hall with a high, flat, coffered ceiling. Four Ionic, granite columns demarcate this passage on the northern and southern sides.

(Bluffton University)

The interior of the station has a long axis running north - south, crossed by a shorter east-west axis. From the portico, one enters an expansive, octagonal-shaped space which serves as the main waiting room. On each of the four larger sides of the octagon is an arch. Two of the arches are supported by two Ionic columns, and two are blocked in with granite and decorated with Ionic pilasters. The soffits of the arches are lined with rosetted coffers. Above each of the arches is a large lunette, underlined by a dentiled cornice which circumscribes the room.

[OHFYH]

The four smaller angles of the octagon have semi-circular niches, lined with rosetted coffers, leading to smaller waiting and baggage rooms. The dome arches 94 feet over this whole section, which contains the ticket counter and mahogany benches for waiting passengers.

[CRVA] — former Byrd Street Station — 1940s

Broad Street Station replaces two earlier stations that served the historic Richmond, Fredericksburg and Potomac Railroad. When its immediate predecessor, located between Byrd, Canal, Seventh, and Eighth Streets, became too crowded to handle both comuter and long distance passengers, it was decided to reroute the larger passenger trains to the west end of town and erect a new terminal to serve them. The grounds of the Hermitage Country Club were chosen as the site of Pope's neo-classic edifice.

[OHFYH]

Although the volume of traffic through the station has greatly dwindled in recent years, Broad Street Station still serves the trains of the R.F. &P. and the Seaboard Coast Line Railroads, and also houses the central offices of the R.F.&P. Despite its decline as a major transportation center the station remains a monument of civic and commercial pride expressei through architecture. (VDHR)

(Photographs by Roger Puta) — 1969

So wrote Elizabeth Cheek for the Department of Historic Resources in 1971, and the decline was clearly the writing on the wall. Amtrak moved all passenger train operations to the new Staples Mill Road station in November 1975, and Broad Street Station was sold to the Commonwealth the following year.

May 2018

Fortunately that was not the end of the story. The same month it was sold, the former station became the new location of the Science Museum of Virginia, and the train kept on rolling. Governor Mills Godwin unveiled the museum's first permanent exhibit gallery in 1977, and in 1983 Ethyl Corporation helped fund the addition of The Dome, an OMNIMAX theatre and planitarium.

May 2018

Today, the Science Museum is a worthy steward of this handsome building, expanding exhibit space in 2013, and adding an SR-71 Blackbird in 2016. Alas, the fly in the ointment is the ruined view from Broad Street, courtesy the insidious Tree Architecture Conspiracy.

(Broad Street Station is part of the Atlas RVA Project)

Sources

[CRVA] Celebrate Richmond. Elizabeth Dementi, Wayne Dementi, Corrine Hudgins. 1999.

[OHFYH] One Hundred Fifty Years of History Along the Richmond, Fredericksburg and Potomac Railroad. William E. Griffin, Jr. 1984.

#mustseerva #rva #rvahistory #broadstreet #cityatomic #treearchitectureconspiracy

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discet · 7 years ago

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World Building June - Aeth

From these prompts

Day 5. What sorts of civilizations and architecture fill your world?

oooh fun so for this lets bring back THE MAP

So lets go from West to East, and since this will take forever to do by nation were going to do by larger cultural.

Yamun Culture

Para Empire / Khakata Kingdom / Durai Dynasty

Yamun is names for a large river that cuts through the subcontinent (The tail end of which you can see in Para’s borders). It has a massive mountain range south of it and is thus largely isolated. The Lich King Cataclysm led to a deep seeded fear of magic in society. There is little trust in Mages and are controlled obsessively by religious leaders in communities.

While arguably first populated in the foothills of the mountains by the talon-legged Saek, most of the lowlands were populated by seabound Harc in the north by sea and by nomadic Senn in the south. While overlooked, evidence exists that the Dwem tribes in the deep jungles seemed to predate all these groups. This makes Yamun one of the most genetically mixed cultures in the world.

It is one of the most religiously diverse cultures as well, several religious beliefs were founded in Yamun and have spread through trade routes. While there is some tension between the differing religions, its so mixed that no government can afford the strife of stoking those tensions through oppressive action. Which is good because-

Governance

Yamun governance is very unstable historically. Its caste system is a left over relic of the age of sorcery, which served fine under the unyielding rule of an infallible (or at least dominant) sorcerer king, it has become increasingly seen as oppressive by scholar described “rabble rousers”. As such attempts of uniting the sub-continent has been difficult as rival kingdoms are often dealing with internal strife as often as external conflict. Thus borders are often shifting and new kingdoms spawn from charismatic opportunistic individuals.

Architecture

The Capitals: The capitals refer to the great cities that are a holdover of the old Age of Sorceries. Enchantments that are maintained but not understood. Self cleaning roads, glittering changing mosaics that shift with the day championing long gone royal lines. The Capitals, as they became more populace and out grew the old enchantments boundaries left stark differences between the rich center of the cities and the poorer slums.

Shaded Roads: The shaded roads are an attempt by the current kings and the Age of Empires to capture a bit of the glory that the old Sorcerer kings. The roads are maintained by proto-sentient trees who spread, giving traders shade across the hot humid roads of Yamun. They weave together bridges from their roots and replant any trees that are cut down or destroyed by acts of nature.

Myr Freeholds Culture

Myr is an offshoot of Yamun culture that occurred early into the Age of Empires. The Myr freeholds are a series of islands that are largely too rocky for natural cultivation that are not united in any way shape or form, they are filled with mages who escaped the oppressive culture of Yamun. Its economy is largely built on piracy with mages maintaining great defensive fortresses on the islands. They plague trade in the Aeth sea and are increadibly difficult to crack. Most of the local kingdoms are too busy with land conflicts to build up a navy capable of rooting out the fortresses and other Aeth nations are too far away to make such an expedition anything other than financial suicide.

It is the closest remaining vestige of the old sorcerer king cultures, as it was founded by the last heir of a Sorcerer king culture in Yamun, establishing the first fortress. Being the new master of this ancient fortress is a great honor and influential in the largely prestiege based politics of Myr.

Architecture

Arguably some of the most impressive post-cataclysm magical structures are found in Myr. The Myr fortresses are the nightmare of the siege engineers. The harbor is built inside, ships magically shrunk between the coast and the internal harbor. the few landing sites of these islands are overlooked by hundreds of murder holes. As the fortresses are all internal, there are no walls to really scale. The one or two entrances lead to long winding halls that delay attackers. All giving the masters and their apprentices the ability to cast from safety. The interior harbor are great grand halls filled with inns, brothels, and the homes of their ship wrights. They are decorated with the stolen luxuries from all across Aeth. Much of the city is hewed from the rock with the home of the master more ornate and set apart. Generally called the academy.

Sacre Culture

High Kingdom of Sacre / Sacre Hinterlands / Sacre Orda

The Sacre is the homeland of the Senn and are full of nomadic herding culture. While there are many differences between its widely ununited cultures, it has a few things that unites them. The pantheon of the Alter of Flames and language being the broadest. (Though how the religion is practiced varies wildly).

Sacre culture was a big innovator in the Age of Sorcery, discovering and utilizing mundane inventions that gave them a leg up on the settled cultures over reliance on magic. As long as they steered clear of the sorcerer kings or their heirs, Sacre bands could raid and pillage just about anywhere they could reach. This also made them saviors during the Lich Cataclysm as their forces were largely mundane and supported by magic rather than depending on it. Especially in Basalt and in some cases in Yamun and modern Tyre Sacre bloodlines sat at the head of government for centuries.

Governance

Wealth in Sacre culture comes from one’s herd. Power in Sacre culture comes from the loyalty of one’s Shepard. As with the nomadic nature of the people Sacre governance is fluid. Inheritance of title and wealth is split evenly among living children on a parents death and thus is territory in the case of a leader. This leads to many kingdoms not surviving one’s lifetime. If heirs are not capable, they are often abandoned for stronger leaders. While often derided as bloodthirsty warlords, Sacre politics is often cited as the inspiration of early democracies. Gaining a title in Sacre culture was functionally an election, in which a powerful warlord would call a Kurultai and tribes would either come in support of the warlord or not come to show their lack of support.

Architecture

As a nomadic nation the architecture is far more practical than grand. While there are some permanent buildings in the religious bonfires, maintained by their religious leaders, most structures are able to be backed up and packed onto a horses backs.

Basalt Culture

The United Houses of Basalt / House Hiran

Basalt culture is inseparable from the Imperium of Basalt. The Imperium was a giant on the sage of Aeth for most of the Age of Empires. Founded by a Sacre warlord overthrowing the local Lich. This Lich was the most successful of his brothers who convinced many of the local lords as allies, maintaining power through more sane subordinates at the cost of their peasants. Once this broke down the southern lords who saw the tide of death they invited a powerful warlord to overthrow the Lich. After their success the warlord adopted the parts of local culture to adapt to a settled society while bringing in Sacre practical beliefs that made the Army of Basalt the most powerful military in Aeth.

Its major religion, the Order of the flame started as an offshoot of Sacre Pantheon, which has changed radically in the millennia of the Imperiums existence. The pantheon has been dropped in favor of a nebulous spirit of humanities ideals. The core belief of the religion calls for believers to do good deeds to combat the chaos that threatens a larger war for humanities soul, staging the defeat of the liches as a great moment in this struggle. The righteous monarch is seen as a guiding hand for humanity to provide structure and stability to allow humanity to do these good deeds without worrying as much about survival. As a result the monarch is partly seen as holy.

This has recently broken down. The line of Magus, the group who founded the Imperium was overthrown for abuse of authority. While the Shah’s who allied with the rebels were seen as hereos, none of the rebel Shah’s could manage to seize total power and settled into an uneasy alliance between their realms. This alliance fragility proven when House Hiran, one of the rebels broke off to be their own kingdom. Long enemies of the Empire like Tyre and Sur wait for the cracks to grow, to seize territory they long coveted.

Governance

Basalt is deeply seated in the feudal structure that has existed since before the cataclysm. Shah’s rule their territories, loyal until recently to a central Padshah. Now long rivalries between bloodlines threaten to dissolve the legacy of Magus and. It has a deeply embedded bureaucracy that is holding things together, but without a central government to provide oversight, it is rapidly becoming corrupted and will rote away the heart of the empire beneath the feet of its once heroic Shahs.

Architecture

The Obsidian Keep: The heart of the Imperium. The Obsidian keep was once the throne of the Lich, built into the side of a volcano, it is enchanted to use the lava within its home in its defense, able to flood its empty moats in its defense. The Keep itself is a massive fortress with three rings of walls backed by the steep side of the volcano. Its walls before the rebellion was engraved with the various triumphs of Basalts Padshah’s. The summit of the volcano serves as one of the greatest Temple of Fire in Basalt.

The Marble City: A luxurious city on the Penninsula is a city carved from a marble quarry. Starting as a great trade city for marble. Its position made it wealthy enough to carve luxury buildings from the quarry. It has since become a city of grand fireproof libraries and academies, dedicated to the training of Alchemists, Mages and other scholarly pursuits. The density of geomancers allow the marble to be restructured as needed, rather than stagnant. It is often the sight of experimental architecture and a shifting skyline that sailors can catch as they come to harbor.

Acrean Culture

Sur Dynasty / Citystate of Acre / Tanu Tradeposts

Acrean culture is born from an ancient culture of city states. These were religious states who saw their sorcerer kings as their gods come to earth. Each state had a different patron god. In the cataclysm most of these cities fell alone rather than joining together. With the exception of the last readout of Acre. Its godking brought the refugee’s flooding into his streets and forged a army to combat the oncoming undead. After retaking the city and the tragic death of this heroic lord, the culture elevated the god of Acre to head of the pantheon. The defeat of the Liches requiring the sacrifice of the Gods mortal connection to the world.

In the age of Empires Acre holds a position as a religious pilgrimage site. Natural Mages are seen as divine tools of the gods while those who are brought up as priests. Acrean culture is often seen as a trading culture, who are some of the most adept sailors in Aeth, countered only by the Myr Pirates. Masters of desert warfare they were the main enemy of Sinai until the rise of the Tyrean Empire bottled it to the north penninsula.

Governance

The citystate is run as a theocracy by the priests of the main temple, while Sur resembles a more common monarchy with legitimacy of lords confirmed by priests.

Architecture

Great Temples: While many of the original city states were destroyed in the initial conquest of the lich and then again in their retaking, Acre stands shining and untouched. Its skyline is dominated by the great ziggurat of the God of Acre. While made of simple stone, it floats above the ground two stories off the ground. One of the early enchantments of the last sorcerer kings.

Tanu Culture

The Tanu by legend originated as a group who were driven to the brink of extinction, pushed to the very coastal mountains by the horde of monsters that dominated the Hunting Grounds to the East. This was until one day when the great hunters invented the first spears and bows of the world, something to put them on even ground with the monsters. They have since regained the territory of the peninsula, now going into the hunting grounds is a badge of honor and the harvesting of its creatures is the main source of income for the Tanu city states

Tanu, as a Shaman majority culture were little effected by cataclysm. did take it as an opportunity to take the lich held territory in Acre to give them a place to stage trade from. The Tanu have a host of many beliefs that they have absorbed through trade, some bleeding over into each other and has created a very pluralistic culture. Its traditional pantheon has been adopted and inducted into Mythical canon. The Acrean pantheon has become a big influence on the Tanu trade posts. Arashin from Basalt is one often taken by Tanu Chiefs.

Governance

Tanu in general have fairly insular territories, a unified fear of a monster horde keeps most wars from breaking out and they are generally too far away from things to worry about foreign invasions. While there are no true wars there are several yearly competitions that focus on proving the strengths of cities top hunters. These are generally beloved competitions and move from city to city over the years.

Architecture

As a nation of shamans they do not have any of the awe inspiring great structures from the A.o.S, they have many innovative buildings unique in construction and materials. Brightly painted and ornately carved.

Vinrum Culture

Tyre Empires / Sinai Dominion / Nov Republic

Oh god near the end. So Vinrum is a a descriptor for the coastal around the smaller Vinrum Sea in the east. Its closer territories has made it a much more conflicted territory All of their histories far more interconnected.

The greatest commonality is the widespread of the Mythic Canon. A aggressive polytheistic cult that seeks to adapt and induct all pantheons. Sorting the gods and their myths into various monolithic archetypes who represents single gods acting in many cultures. While largely successfully in their attempts of conversion, it has run up to severe resistance in the Acrean territories who take their attempts to sort their gods as an insult.

#Aeth #world building june #world building #writing #prompt

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architectnews · 4 years ago

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Sala Samui Chaweng Beach Resort Koh Samui

Sala Samui Chaweng Beach Resort, Koh Samui Hotel, Thai Building and Swimming Pool, Architecture Photos

Sala Samui Chaweng Beach Resort in Koh Samui

Contemporary Luxury Hotel Project in Thailand design by Onion

2 Mar 2021

Sala Samui Chaweng Beach Resort

Architects: Onion

Location: Koh Samui, Surat Thani, Thailand

Sala Samui Chaweng Beach Resort

Sala Samui Chaweng Beach Resort has a panoramic view of Chaweng Beach on Thailand’s third largest island. Ko Samui lies in the Gulf of Thailand off the east coast of Surat Thani Province.

It is known for its palm-fringed beaches, coconut groves, crystal clear sea, mountainous rainforest, luxury resorts and spas. It has a domestic and international airport. Travelers stop over at Chaweng Beach before joining the Full Moon Party on Ko Pha Ngan.

Onion started designing 138-room Sala Samui Chaweng Beach Resort 5 years ago in the scopes of architecture, interior, hardscape including decks and swimming pools, furniture, lighting and object designs.

In January 2018, the 52-room beachfront phase was opened for Sala’s guests. Every room has a private swimming pool and the sea view. There are 2-Bedroom Presidential Pool Villa next to the beach, framed the view by the old Banyan Trees, 4-Pool Villas and the rest of the guest rooms are in the 3-storey building.

Each room is different. On the first floor, Garden Pool Suites have the swimming pool on the rear. On the second and the third floors, Balcony Pool Suites have private swimming pool rooms on the balconies overlooking the central beachfront courtyard. The third floor also has the 1-Bedroom Pool Suites facing the ocean.

On the opposite side of the Chaweng Beach Road, the 85-room roadside phase of Sala Samui is expected to be finished in December 2018.

Onion’s design direction comes from an observation that our perceptions of the moon change every night, even if the source of light remains the same. Full moon is the time when we see the moon. Black moon is the period when we see no moon. Crescent moon is in the space in between. Everything at Sala Samui Chaweng Beach Resort is designed to enhance a sequence of light, shade and shadow.

The design process starts by these two questions: what Sala’s guests would like to see and how they would like to live when they stay at Chaweng Beach. Onion decides to leave a maximum open air space next to the beach. This courtyard functions like a bright living room. There is no attempt to control the circulation.

Guests are free to walk around in whatever direction they want. The circle is right for this purpose. Daybeds and umbrellas around the circular swimming pools have no direction. There is no particular spot to enter the swimming pool. Guests may sit, walk and lie down at any part of its perimeter wherever the water level is for their posture.

The swimming pool’s floors gradually slant to the niche wall. Each niche fits the human scale for a reason of privacy. At night, lighting design mimics an ambience of full moon in the water. Onion also add the white swim rings, named Onion Ring, as a friendly gesture.

Nothing blocks the sea view is an exclusive experience for Sala’s guests. From the largest exterior courtyard to the smallest interior space of every room, the ocean is a most picturesque scenery. Even at the lobby, one can see the sea right away.

This is how we perceive the sense of luxury. Luxury is not about what we build; rather, it is about the space that we decided not to build. Leaving the 70×40 square meters beachfront courtyard towards the East in this sense is a luxury.

The continuous long and flat façade of the beachfront building is painted in white colour. That is to highlight the crescent shadows of the precast concrete walls. At least 7 different curves are layered from the building envelops to the interior spaces. Each curved wall separates each activity such as swimming, bathing and sleeping.

Moving shadows make each room different. A most complex shades of grey often appear in the private swimming pool rooms. These spaces are painted by the shadows of stripe and oval shading devices, overlaid on the curved wall and its crescent shadow.

Onion works with local materials and everyday life objects. What makes the ordinary things appeared special are the modes of arrangement and the inventions of new forms. Bamboo blinders are used as the lobby’s ceiling. Triangular pillows are scaled down and reshaped to fit our spaces.

The patterns of rattan lamps are redesigned so that the light of each lamps would appear different. Coconut shells are used as lamps and other decorative elements such as table legs. Onion does not design too many objects for Sala Samui Chaweng Beach Resort. Each object is thought of with care.

Sala Samui Chaweng Beach Resort, Koh Samui – Building Information

Location: Koh Samui, Surat Thani, Thailand Year: 2018 Architect: Onion Interior Designer: Onion

Photography: Wworkspace

Sala Samui Chaweng Beach Resort in Koh Samui information / images received 021118, updated 020321

Location: Koh Samui, Surat Thani, Thailand

Thailand Architecture

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Suan Kachamudee Mini Resort, Koh Samui Design: Sicart & Smith Architects photo : Anne Sophie Maestracci/goodpicturesdosellmore.com Resort in Koh Samui

Resort Buildings

Comments / photos for the Sala Samui Chaweng Beach Resort in Koh Samui – New Thailand Accommodation Architecture page welcome

Website: Onion

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property-management-florida · 4 years ago

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30a Seaside Getaway

30A Seaside is a picturesque stretch of over 15 unique and charming neighborhood residences and guest houses that blend seamlessly with the nearly 30 miles of pristine beaches overlooking crystal clear waters of the Gulf of Mexico. As envisioned by its founders Robert and Daryl Davis, it is now the heart of Northwest Florida’s Emerald Coast.

30A Seaside is in Fort Walton Beach, a small city named as one of the best places to live in Florida. It is part of Okaloosa County located in the Florida Panhandle, the northwestern part of the U.S. state of Florida and is stretched along the scenic Highway 30A, a sensational two lane county road from east of Sandestin in Santa Rosa Beach to the coast from Emerald Coast Parkway from which it is named after.

30A Seaside is one of the world’s famous destinations. Frequent in the areas are: country music stars Faith Hill, Kenney Chesney and Luke Bryan; actors Sandra Bullock, Reese Witherspoon and Vince Vaughn; NFL stars Tony Romo and Eli Manning; and even presidential candidate Mike Huckabee and Republican political consultant Karl Rove.

There is so much to do in 30A Seaside making it a must-visit place. Aside from enjoying the pristine beach and crystal waters of the Gulf of Mexico, swimming can also be as great in Grayton Beach’s all-natural kiddie pool. As the Western Lake meets the Gulf of Mexico it shallows out creating an all-natural kiddie pool with no waves or currents. Not only are South Walton’s Dune lakes extremely rare but its calm waters make it the ideal place for paddle boarding. Biking on the bike trails along Grayton Beach is another exhilarating way to savor the scenic views. Airstream trailers lined up along 30A Seaside will make you feel like you are stepping back in time as you savor wide like of food and drink options.

The places to stay in 30A Seaside for vacationing or visiting tourists are a treat. Vacation home rentals Panama City offers a boutique portfolio of luxury rental home options laden with all the amenities you are looking for – professional kitchens, luxurious bedding, private pools, and spectacular views.

Whether you are looking for a private luxury villa, a condominium loft with amazing beach views and immaculate amenities, or a bungalow community that blends the best of both worlds, you can conveniently get it through vacation home rental Panama City.

With a focus on chic and comfortable design, the rental homes being offered by vacation home rentals Panama City are furnished and decorated by a team of professional designers. Chic interiors, with our signature palette of creams and linens, evoke a serene and stylish atmosphere for your ultimate beach vacation. We only use designer bedding like Belle Notte, Pine Cone Hill, and Pacific Coast to ensure that you get the ultimate rest and relaxation you deserve.

A serene stretch of beachside beauty called 30A Seaside awaits those who seek a peaceful getaway in South Walton. Go for it and stay in one of the unique and charming homes of vacation home rentals Panama City. It is not just renting a place- it is offering a great home experience during your ultimate getaway.

#vacation home rentals Panama City

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belerencodex · 7 years ago

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Humans of the Crucible States

Elves, Dwarves, Gnomes, Halflings, almost all the races of Beleren are born from extraplanar beings. They know their origins, but the Humans, youngest of the races emerged from the cradle of the Beleren. They, along with animals, plants, and dragons, are the only truly native creatures of Beleren. Ten thousand years ago the first Humans wandered out of the savannahs of Nashto. Ten thousand years in the eyes of creatures such as dragons and elves is a comparatively short span but in that time humanity has experienced much. Under the tutelage of dragons they have spread explosively across their native continent. But in time they became too powerful and numerous to be controlled by their draconic overlords.

The Common Clay: Humans come in many colors, shapes, and personalities. Little about them is predetermined at birth, experience and culture are the truest teachers. But one of the great advantages that humans have over other races is their unique ability for interbreeding. Humans can produce viable offspring with almost any other humanoid race, this ability has allowed them to assimilate and integrate themselves into the fabric of existing cultures and societies. In some places humans of mixed races become a major racial demographic. These children of mixed lineage are often able to tap into magic powers of sorcery based on their ancestry. Many human cultures as a result arrange into hereditary societies based on bloodlines. Many Faces, One Voice: One of the other major advantages that humanity has held over other races is their near unique ability to retain a single common language. Humans, even half-humans develop the ability to speak and/or comprehend a language referred to as Common. Most other races have lost their common languages, fractured into dozens of different dialects. Because of this common link humans are able to cross vast distances as merchants and explorers knowing that they will be met with strangers speaking a common tongue.

Ascrine

The bulk of the human population of the Crucible states is made up of a melting-pot culture called Ascrine. All human nations of the area other than Cymrin and the Orumic Isle were dominated by the Ascren Empire for a long time. As such cultural borders of the time broke down. While Ascrine humans differentiate themselves along class lines as well as lines of city-vs-country, they don’t have a general ‘look’ to them. Ascren traded with nations as far away as Yeth and Nashto so dark skin or slanted eyes are not an uncommon sight in the streets of former Ascrine cities and towns. The Ascrine have a reputation for wizardry only somewhat dampened by the fall of the empire. Few of the old colleges survive but hedge wizards often take apprentices and powerful wizards can carve out fiefdoms in the wild lands. Multicultural: Ascrine are very broad minded in terms of other races, they have no problem co-existing with most races as long as they integrate with the society to some degree. Ascrine settlements are usually pretty diverse, even middling towns and villages often boasting a dwarven quarter or a halfling campground. The human proclivity for interbreeding is prevalent in Ascrine culture, many half-elves, aasimar, tieflings, sorcerous bloodlines can be found. An Age of Fear: The land of Ascren was once prosperous, no humans are left who remember what it was like in the age of the Empire. Instead for the last century the Ascrine have lived under onslaught by fey from the expanding Elven Forest, dragon attacks, and strange arcane monstrosities that wander out of the ruins of Old Ascren. The Ascrine seek shelter and will often accept terrible tyrants and warlords over the uncertainty of an unforgiving and uninviting wild.

Cymrine

North of the Crucible States, the nation of Cymrin is a beacon of stability in the north-west. Bordering the Vostovid Mountains to the West, the Elven Forests to the South, and hag-filled swampland to the East, early Cymrine history was marked by warfare and strife. Small barbarian tribes fought each other and the monsters that surrounded them until a half-elf king united them 600 years ago. Cymrin is now ruled by the same dynasty. Recently Cymrine humans have begun migrating south forming colonies in the unclaimed north of the Crucible States and offering protectorate-hood to independent settlements. In appearance the Cymrine are usually fair of complexion, freckled and with high cheekbones but sparse beards, long mustachios go in and out of style with the decade. A Stable & Prosperous Home: The half-elf monarchs of Cymrin are beloved to their people, the secret of a good monarchy is long lived rulers. Many peasants will live and die and not see the crown change hands, this inspires a certain sense of stability and security in the mindset of the Cymrine and a deep faith in their monarchs. The government is run largely for their benefit, lucrative contracts to import luxuries are controlled strictly by the King’s Treasury and the tight laws and effective guards encourage ne’er-do wells and adventure seekers to flee south into the chaotic realms of the Crucible States. The Dragon-Knights: A tradition started by King Erik Frostfire, rituals devised in secret by the King’s enchanter Azbriani allow the most elite half-elf knights of the realm to bend young chromatic dragons to their will. The creatures are intelligent but inherently evil, destined for chaos and destruction if freed. By dominating their will, the knights are able to turn them into powerful tools. When the knight dies the dragon is also executed. The Vostovid Mountains are the breeding ground of Red Dragons nearly all Dragon-knights ride red dragons. However there have been green, white, and one blue dragon-knight.

Orumic

The Orumic humans are the descendants of seafolk who began fishing the fertile coasts of the island of Orum. The west coast of the Crucible States and the island had long been considered an accursed place. Home to tribes of orcish raiders. But to the surprise of many peaceful co-existence began between the humans and orcs. The orcs primarily cared for their aurochs on the interior of the island and in the fertile coastal hills of the continent, the humans subsisted along the coast on fishing and agriculture. The relationship was mutually advantageous and over time the warlike orcish culture was subsumed into the human culture of sea folk. Orum is now a mixture of half-orcs and humans, orcs having been effectively obsoleted. Seafolk: The Orumic are found throughout the coastal parts of the Crucible States in small fishing villages or working the shipping lanes. Originally they were humans from Aigados who sailed west. In complexion they are marked by the orcish blood that runs through their veins, short noses and thick, coarse black hair are common to the Orumic and from their orcish cousins they have drawn a flair for bright and sometimes even garish colors. Often wearing bright yellows and oranges or striking blues and greens. Independent to a Fault: The homeland of Orum is prosperous and would likely be quite powerful if it was ever centralized, however while there is a king of Orum, there are few proper nobles. Feudalism has failed to take hold as any dissatisfied peasant can easily flee in a boat and peasant revolts are common. As such most of Orumic society remains rural and agriculturalist, subsisting and trading on small scale, only rallying in the face of great danger.

Rakonni

In ages past the Rakonni were horse nomads who roamed the eastern hills and grasslands. After subjugation by the Ascren, they settled into a life of pastoralism and began planting wine grapes, barley, and rye. The Rakonni countryside is now littered with small fiefdoms, while mostly disorganized, most pay some amount of tribute to the Overlord of Nexios to help keep the trade routes open and the gold flowing into their villas and castles. Husaria and the Free Lances: Among the ranks of the knights of the Rakkoni there are an array of companies of warriors. Some of these are Hussars, knightly circles that forego landed titles for the more traditional life as mounted nomads. They dedicate their service either to powerful, reputable lords or to a common good. For instance riding against the hobgoblin raiders that plague the foothills of the Perenia Mountains or patrolling the trade routes and roads for the Overlord of Nexios. The Free Lances by comparison are wandering mercenaries and sometimes brigands who range westward deeper into the Crucible States in search of work as adventurers, most often these are exiled knights, illegitimate children of nobles, or outcasts. Court of Daggers: It was once asked of a Rakonni knight how he would best the greatest champion of their day. The knight simply answered, “at night, in bed, with a very sharp knife.” The Rakonni are known for their pragmatic approach to politics and warfare. Poisoning and assassination is as frequent a killer of Rakonni nobles as combat. Any prominent noble will have a court poisoner or assassin.

Thaylite

Hailing from the central steppe of Ib, brought west in search of safer homes outside the rulership of the Aigadosi, the Thaylites are a proud warrior culture of ancient origin. Hailing from the far south-east, their skin is dark and their hair thick and kinky. Traditional hairstyles accentuate this with locks or tight braids which are decorated with bells and bangles of gold. Most often they are found living in enclaves, majority Thaylite neighborhoods of larger cities, or in rural communities where they continue their knightly traditions. Among their number are many Aasimar as they have a strong connection to the angelic orders. A Lost Homeland: Far to the east and south, in the land now known as Nashto, is the origin point of the Thaylites. In the high peaks of Thayl they first formed their culture as shepherds among enchanted peaks. The first king of the Thaylites was in fact anointed by a Solar. As such the Thaylites take their piety very seriously and dream of a day that they might reclaim their home. In this tradition they also believe that the spirit of their first king will return. Honorbound: The Thaylite reputation for honor and fairness is ironclad. In cities they live in they often will generationally join the city guard and serve any king they see as noble and honorable. Thaylite adventurers often make a living as bodyguards for people they consider worthy and are prized for this job as they will often lay down their lives for their wards.

#pathfinder #d&d #beleren #worldbuilding

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