#it helps you navigate a path (compass rose)

[mademoisellesarcasme]

trying to psychoanalyse periods of my own life by personal aesthetic trends/tendencies because obviously i have nothing better to think about

[windvexer]

disappointment anon, i didnt actually know you could create spirit doors i thought i just had to hope that the spirits heard me after i called them to me because i dont have clairsenses or good divination.. LOL but thank you for that post that was extremely helpful :)

Hi! In Traditional Witchcraft and other related practices, I think I especially want to say Fairy Faith, the idea that the practitioner has the ability to find, capitalize on, or simply create portals, gateways, and roads into the spirit world is a dominant theme.

The only time I ever see this referenced in 101 stuff is casting a circle! The concept in Traditional Witchcraft is more or less the same as a Wiccan circle, but we call it a compass. If a lot of your education is coming from online sources, you may be unaware that a primary function of a magic circle is to "join the worlds" and, as Kelden puts it,

On a deeper level, though, and most central to Traditional Witchcraft, the compass is a liminal place, a doorway through which we can enter into the Otherworld.

On one hand, the word compass is synonymous with the word circle, but it also denotes the well-known navigational tool used in travel. This second meaning makes a lot of sense in the context that Traditional Witches use the compass round to navigate and traverse the different realms.

Kelden, The Crooked Path, 2020 (emphasis my own)

For a spirit-working witch, the skill of learning where to find spirits and how to reliably call them is a skill which I believe is separate from brokering deals. I also believe that working with these gateways is probably a fundamental skill of witchcraft.

The witch has many tools at their disposal for creating gateways into the spirit world and walking back and forth between this world and the next, with new knowledge, allies, and powers.

Some of these gateways are physical locations, each of which may lead to a different place in the otherworld, or make it easier or more difficult to access certain powers.

A small, secluded cave half-filled with water at the bottom of a steep riverbank may be the ideal location to enter the Underworld, or commune with chthonic powers.

A tiny thicket formed by the arch of a rosemary bush where it tangles with the branches of a thorny rose may be an excellent location to leave tiny gifts for the Greenwood and commune with the green folk.

Much more accessible for many of us is indeed just the concept of crossroads, either a 4-way X or a 3-way T. These locations are long famed for being the meeting places of spirits, or ideal locations to leave offerings or broker spirit deals. The Devil Himself is often said to be haunting just such remote crossroads.

But these gateways don't just have to be found. The witch has the power to create them.

Exhibit A - casting a circle (or more accurately to say, laying a compass).

Also, I believe the creation of a spellcasting altar, if properly magicked and tended to, begins to become liminal in and of itself - it literally becomes a doorway to the otherworlds.

Certain human-made locations, like gas stations and grocery stores, are often considered to be gateways and have been used by some practitioners to fulfill spellwork.

Various charms and talismans can assist with creating doorways navigating the liminal, most famously the Holey or Hag stone.

Robin Artisson details several methods of understanding, discovering, creating, and working with such doorways, I believe in Witching Way of Hollow Hill, but especially in An Carow Gwyn, in the section called The Breaching Charms: The Gateways into Sorcerous Experience.

Daniel Schulke, at least in Viridarium Umbris, provides several sigils and charms for obtaining entrance into the otherworld.

Roger J Horne, in A Broom at Midnight, details thirteen "gateways" to spirit flight. While these are specifically methods of entering astral travel, any student of the concept of gateways and doors within witchcraft I think would benefit from studying the rituals within.

Speaking of astral travel, many common methods espoused include imagining that a person is climbing down the roots of a tree, or inside of the trunk of a tree and floating down like an elevator; or going down a well. All of these things are analogous to (or, the same thing as) mentally seeking out a gateway to the otherworld, searching in mental constructs of places in nature where gateways are commonly found or believed to be found.

Indeed, the concept of roads, gates, thresholds, and doors, is (I think) a vital contemplation to the understanding of Witchcraft itself, and it is upon these bedrocks that a great deal of witchcraft has been built.

[slowlydecadentkitty]

The love story featuring Benedict Bridgerton and Princess Adeline:

Title: "Royal Hearts"

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Princess Adeline, the youngest daughter of Queen Charlotte and King George, finds herself attending a lavish ball at Bridgerton Manor. Among the noble guests is Benedict Bridgerton, the charming and elusive second son of the Bridgerton family.

As fate would have it, Adeline and Benedict are introduced, and an instant connection sparks between them. They engage in delightful conversations, sharing their dreams, ambitions, and favorite books. Adeline is captivated by Benedict's wit and sensitive nature, while Benedict finds himself drawn to Adeline's grace and intelligence.

Their encounters become more frequent, as they attend social gatherings and equestrian events together. They steal glances, exchanging tender smiles that convey their growing affection. However, the world they inhabit is filled with rules and expectations, and their love remains a secret.

One evening, Adeline and Benedict find themselves alone in the palace gardens, surrounded by blooming roses and whispering trees. They confess their love to each other in hushed voices, promising to navigate the challenges that lie ahead.

Despite their undying love, Adeline's royal status and duty to the crown prove to be a constant obstacle. The Queen, aware of their connection, emphasizes the importance of Adeline's arranged marriage to secure alliances and maintain the stability of the kingdom. Adeline faces the dilemma of following her heart or fulfilling her obligations to her family and country.

Benedict, torn between his desire to be with Adeline and his respect for her obligations, seeks solace in his family. The Bridgertons provide him with unwavering support, encouraging him to fight for his love and reminding him that true happiness is worth any sacrifice.

In a display of defiance, Adeline and Benedict secretly exchange handwritten letters filled with declarations of love, longing, and encouragement. They create a clandestine world filled with stolen moments, secret rendezvous, and hidden embraces.

As whispers of their forbidden romance echo throughout the palace corridors, the pressure intensifies. Adeline's older siblings, perfectly aware of the breadth and depth of her love for Benedict, lend their support and understanding, guiding her through the storm.

In a final act of courage, Benedict proposes to Adeline during a privately organized masquerade ball. Surrounded by their closest friends and confidantes, they declare their love in front of a hidden gazebo, adorned with twinkling lights and fragrant blossoms. Adeline, deeply moved and overwhelmed by Benedict's devotion, accepts his proposal without hesitation.

However, their journey does not end there. Adeline and Benedict face the arduous task of convincing the Queen that their love is genuine and that their union will ultimately benefit the kingdom. With the help of their families and trusted advisors, they navigate the treacherous waters of concerns, negotiations, and compromises, aiming to forge a path that would allow them to be together.

Adeline and Benedict's love story becomes a symbol of hope and unity, bridging the gap between their different worlds. Their unwavering commitment to each other inspires others within the palace and beyond. Their love serves as a reminder that true happiness can be found when you follow your heart, even in the face of adversity.

Months pass, and the Queen eventually relents, understanding that the happiness of her daughter and the stability of the realm are not mutually exclusive. Adeline and Benedict's wedding becomes a grand celebration, attended by nobles, commoners, and dignitaries alike, symbolizing a new era of love and understanding within the kingdom.

As husband and wife, Benedict and Adeline embrace their shared responsibilities with grace and compassion. They work tirelessly, striving to make the world a better place for their subjects while cherishing the love they fought so valiantly to protect.

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♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎

Please, no hate. This is my first time posting. Hope you enjoy it!

[itsfarrah]

|CHAPTER 1|

"Remember, my dear Farrah," my father whispered, his voice weakened by illness but still filled with conviction, "in every storm, remember the lessons of our love. Let it be your compass, guiding you through the darkest nights and the roughest seas."

Those were his last words to me, uttered with a tenderness that would forever echo in my heart. The memory of that moment, of his steady gaze and the warmth of his touch, would be etched into my soul for eternity.

My father, a man of towering intellect and gentle spirit, had been my guiding light throughout my childhood. His own upbringing had been marked by hardship and estrangement, as his own father, a stern and unforgiving man, had sent him away to boarding school in an attempt to "make a man out of him." Yet, my father emerged from those formative years with grace and resilience, his spirit unbroken by the cruelty of his father.

It was at Oxford University, where my father had been sent to study against his will, that he found solace and friendship in the form of Edward Dashwood. United by their shared experiences and a mutual love for knowledge, they became lifelong friends, their bond forged in the fires of adversity.

But it was in America that my father's star truly rose. With a keen eye for opportunity and a sharp mind for business, he had built and owned railroads that crisscrossed the nation, connecting cities and communities in ways never thought possible. His ventures had made him a titan of industry, a man of immense wealth and influence both in America and abroad.

Through his astute trading with England, he had further solidified his fortune, leveraging his connections and expertise to navigate the complex world of international commerce. His dealings had brought prosperity to our family, allowing us to live a life of luxury and privilege that few could ever dream of.

My mother, a woman of quiet strength and unwavering love, had been the heart of our home. Her gentle demeanor belied a fierce determination and a fierce love for her family. She had nurtured me with tenderness and care, her presence a source of comfort and solace in even the darkest of times.

As an only child, I was the apple of my parents' eye, and they spared no expense in my education and upbringing. Our home was a sanctuary of knowledge and curiosity, with shelves overflowing with books from every corner of the globe.

Together, they had created a home filled with warmth and laughter, where love was the guiding force that bound us together.Though their time with me had been cut tragically short, their love would live on in me, a beacon of hope to light my way through the storms that lay ahead.

As I wandered through the now desolate corridors, once vibrant with the echoes of love and laughter, I couldn't help but long for the warmth that once permeated every corner of our grand abode. Standing at the threshold of my new life in England, with the Dashwoods as the only family I had left, I felt a mix of fear and optimism coursing through my veins. The journey ahead was uncertain, but I knew that with their love and support, I would find the strength to embrace the challenges and forge a new path forward. And so, with a heavy heart and a hopeful spirit, I stepped forward into the unknown, ready to begin anew.

[dravid-writes]

Starting @heropartnerweek a little late with the day 1 prompt "Getting lost"!

"You're sure this is the right way?" Alice the Cubone asks.

"No," Rose the Cubone replies. "I'm not used to navigating with a map. Or in a forest for that matter; all these trees look the same to me."

"Well shit. Any ideas, Compass?"

Compass the Cyndaquil looks up from the map. "Not really, I've never been here either. Although..."

Alice groans. "Uuugh, this is stupid! We found the lost item, completed the job, and now WE'RE lost! Maybe we should just use the escape orb."

Rose looks at them with a baffled expression. "You KNOW how much that cost, we're not using it unless it's an emergency!"

"I know, I know, but if we can't get out by sunset we might just have to."

"True... I can't believe I'm saying this, but I almost miss the city. It was hell, but at least I knew how to get around."

"I know what you mean. I still remember those streets like the back of my hand... though it's been a while since I've seen that either."

"In any case, we should at least try SOMETHING to get us out of here. I suggest picking a direction and-"

"Wait, where's Compass?"

On cue, Compass's voice calls out. "Excuse me?"

Alice and Rose rush toward Compass and find them standing before a hulking pangoro, who turns to face the little cyndaquil.

"My friends and I are lost. Could you please show us the way out of the forest? Or to the path?"

Alice and Rose immediately begin thinking of ways they could beat and/or escape the pangoro, trying to figure out the best move to get out of the situation safely and watching the pangoro for any signs of attack. The pangoro raises their arm... And points to their left, speaking softly. "The path is that way. Head east from it to leave the forest."

Compass nods and smiles. "Thank you!"

The pangoro continues on their way, and Compass motions for Alice and Rose to follow as they walk toward the path.

Once the pangoro is out of earshot, Alice and Rose immediately confront Compass. "Why would you DO that?!"

"What in the world were you thinking?!"

Compass gives them a puzzled look. "Asking for directions?"

"From a STRANGER?!" Rose asks.

"Yes? That's what you do when you're lost. When there's something you don't know or can't do, you ask for help!"

Alice sighs. "That would've gotten you mugged, stabbed, or both in the city."

"... Oh. Good thing we aren't in the city!" Compass says, and continues walking.

"... We really need to get used to this world," Alice says.

Rose nods in agreement.

[eileensmith]

Who Is Archangel Haniel?

Who Is Archangel Haniel?

If you're seeking guidance and support during these challenging times, Archangel Haniel may be the perfect angelic figure to turn to. Known as the angel of joy, Haniel works to direct people who are searching for fulfillment to God, who is the source of all joy.

Haniel is also associated with the energy of love and harmony, making her a powerful ally when it comes to caring for yourself during chaotic times. By connecting with her through meditation techniques, you can invite the energy of divine love and compassion into your life.

When you look up at the moon and feel a presence, it may be Archangel Haniel reminding you to pay attention to your inner guidance. She is often depicted with a crescent moon, which represents the feminine energy and intuition that she embodies.

Working with Archangel Haniel can help you tap into your own intuition and inner wisdom, allowing you to make decisions that are aligned with your highest good. She can also assist in healing emotional wounds and promoting self-love and care.

Remember that you are never alone, and that the divine realms and angels are always available to offer guidance and support. By connecting with Archangel Haniel and other angelic figures, you can find peace and comfort during even the most challenging times.

Healing Assistance from Archangel Haniel

Archangel Haniel is an angelic figure associated with the energy of love, healing, and harmony. She is known to bring emotional freedom, confidence, and inner strength. With her guidance, you can achieve greater levels of transformation and growth.

One way to connect with the healing energy of Archangel Haniel is to mindfully spend time in nature. Take a walk in the park, go for a hike, or simply sit outside and absorb the natural beauty around you. This will help you to ground yourself and connect with the earth's energy.

Another way to work with Archangel Haniel is to wear colors associated with her energy. Pink is a color of love and compassion, while emerald green is associated with healing and abundance. Wearing these colors can help you to embody the energy of Archangel Haniel and attract her healing assistance.

Restorative sleep is also very helpful when working with Archangel Haniel. Your body has a denser vibration than your spirit and needs assistance. Getting enough rest will help you to recharge and connect with the divine realms.

Finally, it's important to remember that Archangel Haniel is always available to help you. You can call on her whenever you need healing assistance, emotional support, or guidance. Simply ask for her help and trust that she will be there for you.

Walk in peace, and may grace and fulfillment be on your path,

Eileen Anglin The Path of the White Rose

©Copyright The Path of the White Rose LLC

If You Find My Work Helpful to Your Life, Please Consider Sharing This and Donating. If you have found my work helpful in navigating these challenging and chaotic times with the help of the divine realms and angels, I would greatly appreciate your support. Sharing my work with others who may benefit from it is a wonderful way to help me reach more people and spread the message of self-care and spiritual growth.

In addition, if you are able to make a donation, it would be a tremendous help in allowing me to continue creating content. Your support allows me to dedicate more time and energy to my work, and helps me to cover the costs associated with running my website, writing my books and creating videos.

Thank you for your support and for being a part of this community. Together, we can navigate these challenging times with grace and love.

Below are two ways of donating.

[hikevancouverisland]

Navigating Without a Compass

Navigation is an essential skill in wilderness survival. If you become lost or disoriented, being able to navigate your way to safety can mean the difference between life and death. Before you head out into the wilderness, plan your route and familiarize yourself with the area. This includes studying maps, knowing the terrain, and identifying potential hazards. As you travel, pay attention to your surroundings and make a mental note of landmarks, turns, and other features. Use these landmarks to stay oriented and avoid getting lost. Always bring navigation tools such as a compass, map, GPS device, or a combination of these. Make sure you know how to use them properly and keep them accessible. Navigation is an essential skill for wilderness survival. By planning ahead, bringing navigation tools, using natural navigation techniques, staying oriented, staying calm and focused, leaving a trail, and signaling for help when necessary, you can navigate your way to safety in the wilderness.

Navigation without a Compass:

While having a compass is definitely helpful, there may be situations where you find yourself without one. In these cases, it's important to know how to navigate without a compass. Here are a few tips:

Use Natural Navigation:  Natural navigation involves using the natural environment around you to find your way. Look for natural landmarks, such as mountains, rivers, and trees, to orient you. Also, you have to learn about wilderness navigation courses during hiking. The position of the sun and stars can also be used to determine direction. It's a useful skill to have in situations where you don't have access to navigation tools, such as a map or compass, or when these tools fail.

Follow a Trail:  If you're on a well-defined trail, follow it to your destination. Look for signs of recent foot traffic, such as disturbed leaves or tracks, to confirm that you're on the right path. Trails may be marked with blazes, cairns (piles of stones), or other markers. Look for signs of a trail, such as a worn path or a break in the vegetation. If the trail is not well-defined or you are traveling off-trail, leave markers to help you find your way back. Use brightly colored tape, stones, or other items that stand out. If you become lost or disoriented, stay calm and take a moment to assess your situation. Retrace your steps if possible, and look for signs of the trail.

Create Landmarks:  Creating landmarks is a useful technique for navigating without a compass. Landmarks are easily identifiable features in the landscape that can help you orient yourself and find your way. A cairn is a pile of stones that can serve as a landmark. Build a cairn at a point where you want to change direction or mark a specific location. Make sure the cairn is visible from a distance and that it is not likely to be knocked over by wind or animals. If you come to an intersection on a trail, make a mental note of the location and characteristics of the intersection. Look for distinctive trees, rocks, or other features that can help you identify the intersection later.

 Use a Map:  Using the map, plan your route ahead of time. Look for trails or other landmarks that you can use to navigate. Estimate the distance you will need to travel and the time it will take. Most maps will have a compass rose that shows the direction of north. Use this to orient the map so that it is aligned with the actual terrain. As you travel, check your progress against the map. Look for landmarks and use them to confirm your location.

Follow a Stream: Following a stream is a useful technique for navigating without a compass. Streams are natural waterways that can guide you in a certain direction, and they often lead to larger bodies of water, such as lakes or rivers, which can serve as useful landmarks. As you follow the stream, try to stay as close to it as possible. This will make it easier to find your way back if you need to retrace your steps. Streams often lead to larger bodies of water, such as lakes or rivers. These can serve as useful landmarks that can help you orient yourself.

Listen to Nature: Listening to nature can be a helpful way to navigate in the wilderness without a compass. The sound of water can help you navigate. Listen for the sound of a river, stream, or waterfall, and follow the sound to find your way. The wind can also be a helpful guide. Listen for the sound of the wind, and use it to determine the direction in which you are headed. Animals can also provide clues about your surroundings. Listen for the sounds of birds or other animals, and use them to get a sense of the terrain around you. A lack of sound can also be a helpful guide. If you find yourself in a very quiet area, it may be an indication that you are in a large, open space, such as a meadow or valley.

In conclusion, while a compass is a valuable tool, it's not the only way to navigate. By using natural navigation, following trails, creating landmarks, using a map, following a stream, and listening to nature, you can find your way in the wilderness, even without a compass. However, it's always a good idea to bring a compass and other navigation tools whenever you venture into the outdoors.

[dos-oroguitas]

madrigal grandkids in minecraft headcanons

Isabela

Isabela Madrigal would be off to a flowery hills/ plains biome in order to pick flowers and.. get a bucket of lava? Not sure where she's going with this but anyway..

Usually in the nether? for some reason? Maybe she likes the flora there.

Most likely be armor-less with bonemeal and flowers the only things in her inventory.

She wouldn't be the builder, rather she'd be the decorator. She would fill the Minecraft houses up with flowers.

Favorite flowers? Probably Allium, Cornflowers, and the Wither rose.

Bonus (flower?) block: Cactus

If her builds get destroyed, she will lure you into a false sense of security and then place lava on your feet.

Aesthetic skin for her character.

Luisa

Luisa would most likely be the one who gets her siblings and cousins some gear.

Most likely to be decked out in armor. And in the first in game day no less.

Storage room extraordinaire. Luisa would most likely have an auto-smelt/ auto storage room system.

Would probably be in charge of fighting mobs, especially when it comes to Isabela who's practically running around and only armed with flowers.. plus a bucket full of lava.

Mirabel

The actual builder of La Casa Madrigal in Minecraft.

Inventory is filled with different blocks to build, build, build.

Especially loves the loom and would most likely hoard sheep wool to make pretty banners. Most probably would make pixel art or banner art in Minecraft.

Most likely to die first in game. Probably from running around and not seeing a massive ravine in her path.

"Ay! How should I know that the ravine was right there!"

Probably has Mizuno's texture pack installed.

Dolores

Has a YouTube tab open for relaxing songs to vibe with while playing Minecraft.

Probably tamed a parrot so she could quickly be informed of nearby mobs.

Absolutely loves note blocks and the juke box, pig step supremacy.

Fills her Minecraft room with parrots.

Mutes the group call since it's always composed of Camilo shouting that he was being chased by mobs, and Mirabel and Isabela arguing about their builds.

Camilo

Has his siblings/ cousins skins saved in a folder so he would trick them in game, to give them free stuff.

Most likely to rig someone's base with red stone connected to bells he stole from villages he passes by. Only to annoy.

Though he would accidentally manage to set a build on fire..

He was promptly banned by Isabela before he begged to be let in again with the condition he'd be careful.

Would probably get lost since he can't figure out how to navigate with the coordinates. Even with the help of the compass.

/spawn or /teleport is on because Camilo can't find his way back when he wanders around.

Randomly attacks his Tio Bruno.

Antonio

Sweet little baby Antonio would have tamed every tamable mob in Minecraft.

Of course with the help of Mirabel.

His Minecraft room has every mob you can think of. From ocelots to axlotls. It's crowded but he says he likes it that way.

With the help of Camilo, he manages to build cozy homes for each mob.

Constantly has dogs following him everywhere he goes.

The baby uses default Steve Skin.

Bonus!

Bruno

Bonds with the kids in this block game.

Lives in a square dirt shack next to Mirabel's gorgeous and aesthetic build with a crafting table, a furnace, and a bed.

Most likely to wear only leather armor he finds while looting the villages with the kids because for the life of him he can't figure out how to craft other upgraded armors.

Probably has the 'Rats Mod' installed.

Can never understand why he's being attacked by Camilo but just goes along with it since hey, it's bonding with the kids!

Achievement unlocked: Best Tio Ever.

Don't ask how I came up with this. I was playing Minecraft then poof! Headcanons.

[lilacsilver-writes]

Anon requested: “Holmesbury parents to be , Finding out about the child and trying to navigate being a world famous detective & Tewksbury being extremely terrified and overprotective”

This got pretty long. I hope y’all enjoy!

--

Enola initially blames her fatigue on the long days and nights spent tracing the likeliest path taken by a vanished gamekeeper, but it’s one of Basilwether’s own servants who quietly points out that she’s worked such demanding hours before with no such trouble. Enola has thus far resisted hiring a lady’s maid, as she can attend and dress herself quite expertly, thank you very much. The only help she accepts is from the housemaid Betsy, and only when she must put in an appearance at one social gathering or another.

“Mum died when I were young, milady, but I remember how she was before my littlest brother were born. Could hardly keep her eyes open, even in the middle of the day.”

Betsy adjusts the angle of the comb in her lady’s hair to better ensure that the delicate silver compass rose – a gift from Tewkesbury to the detective who always finds her way – will catch the lights in the ballroom. And to give her lady a moment to process the suggestion laid out before her.

“Oh, I’m such a fool,” Enola mutters. “I – Betsy, I can finish here. Go and tell his lordship that I require his presence.”

He’s at her door in a flash, tie hanging ‘round his neck and waistcoat only half-buttoned. On any other evening the sight would amuse her, but just now she’s preoccupied with the idea Betsy’s put in her head. She’s not been ill, a symptom that she’s vaguely aware is quite normal for mothers-to-be, but yesterday’s luncheon had left her somewhat – oh. Well.

“What is it, Enola? Betsy said it was urgent.”

“I...I rather think it is.” She pauses to gather her thoughts and her strength for the words she knows she must say, and he waits with more patience than she could muster if he were the one with news to tell. Finally, finally, she whispers it into the air between them; any louder, and it would be too real.

His eyes go wide. His mouth drops open. She watches as it sinks in, as joy and terror fight a war within him. He never has learned the art of hiding his thoughts from her.

At length he presses a kiss to her hands, clasped in her lap, and another to her lips.

--

“We will have to engage a nurse for the child,” Lady Tewkesbury says, some days later when the excitement has begun to settle.

“No,” Enola says immediately. She will not let her child grow up in a nursery in a distant wing of the house, all the firsts – laughter, steps, words, lost teeth – witnessed by someone else. No.

“It is the usual thing,” her mother-in-law says. “We hired an excellent nurse when I – well, when Tewky was born.”

“I don’t want -- ”

But Lady Tewkesbury will not be deterred. “I will handle it all myself, my dear. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

“I said -- ”

“And you’ll have to give up working, I’m afraid. You ought not to be running all over the country in your condition!”

That edict, almost but not quite more than the notion of leaving the raising of her child to some traditionalist nanny, brings Enola to the verge of tears. It’s worse than the night her brother exploded at her in the carriage, because Lady Tewkesbury isn’t only looking out for herself. She’s looking out for Enola, and for the baby.

But Enola’s work is one of the greatest joys of her life. It is, in fact, less a career than a calling, and she can’t bear the thought of giving it up even temporarily.

“Excuse me,” she says quietly, standing to leave the dinner table. Tewkesbury and Sir Whimbrel rise as she does, bound by etiquette to do so. But where his uncle retakes his seat, Tewkesbury follows Enola out of the dining room.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

“Yes,” she tells him brusquely. “I’m going to bed.”

“Enola -- ”

She holds up a hand. “Go back to dinner. I’m fine.”

“I really don’t think you are.”

“I will be, provided that you stop pestering me and let me go up to bed.”

With one last worried glance back, he returns to the dining room. She ascends the stairs, keeping a tight lid on her emotions until she can shut her bedroom door behind her and quietly weep for what she fears she’s about to lose for good.

Tewkesbury comes to her an hour later, when she’s all but cried herself out, with a glass of water.

“I thought you might need this,” he says gently, setting it on the bedside table. His warm hand on her shoulder, drifting up to stroke her hair, sets off a fresh round of tears. She knows that her emotions are at the mercy of her condition, and she hates it.

She was made to fight, as he told her once. Not to lie down and weep. But there’s nothing to fight.

“Oh, Enola,” he murmurs. She lets him climb into the bed with her and take her in his arms and be the comfort to her he so clearly wishes to be.

“I don’t – I can’t give up my work,” she sobs. “Don’t make me -- ”

“Never,” he says, so vehement she can’t help but believe him. “I’ll back you against Mother, and you’ll figure it out. You always do. You always have.”

“And the nurse?”

“Did you hear nothing I just said? It’s you and me, Enola. We’ll do what’s best for us and the baby, and everyone else can hang.”

[iamnightduchess]

Reiner & Mikasa: A Retrospective Pt.2

“The Shield of Marley & The Blade of Paradis”

Why ReiKasa is a (BR)OTP ship that’s worth more than a fleeting glance

[*caution: a continuation of a long reflective post with the sole intention to share a fan’s perspective through available representation through manga, anime, exhibition & etc. This post is not to convince nor argue where is its place in canon, but only to explore the vast possibilities of these two amazing characters that I love. In the end, if the series ends with Mikasa alive & ending by herself or with X character, then it means Isayama believes that X character is the one she’ll find that eventual happiness with and I’m all for that. Same goes with Reiner :)] Special thanks to @berumika​ for sharing some of the additional points that are included in this post. Years down the line after SnK ended, I’d love to have a post I can revisit of these two amazing characters & the possibilities that could have been from time to time. I’m having absolute fun in observing how much both of these characters have grown since the series debuted in 2010.

Pt. 1 available here. Warning: Image heavy, potential spoilers.

When I first got to know SnK/AoT, it was through the anime first before manga. Bad idea for me. My initial perspectives of Mikasa & Reiner were skewed and that was later rectified as I navigated the original source directly. Eren is the first protagonist that was introduced by the series creator but I was drawn to Mikasa & Reiner when I started the manga after Season 1 ended. 

Trainees

These top two trainees of the 104th batch are closely matched to each other in ranking. We don’t see them interact directly in the anime, but in the early panels of the manga, Reiner could be seen sitting down with Eren, Mikasa & Armin during mealtimes.

Sure, Mikasa can be expected to not converse with Reiner directly, but if her two childhood friends have their good friend sitting together for meals, at the very least we can expect them to have some brownie points in socialization.

Apart from being total gorgeous hotties, they’re both physically strong people, with Reiner always being second to Mikasa in terms of brute strength. Total muscle pairing and I could see them being at par with each other during physical drills. Reiner & Mikasa could go all out, even beyond 100% and the other would be physically capable to take/receive the force. Shadis would’ve tasked them to lead the physical trainings from time to time. They have been sparring partners, evident from the moment Mikasa threw Reiner across the field into Eren who’s sparring with Annie. Their fitness regime would be in-sync with each other. I could see them having mad respect for each other and secretly admire the other person’s prowess and skill. 

Connection through Eren

As highlighted primarily in Pt.1, Eren has been shown to look up or aspire to be high achievers like Reiner and Mikasa both. He wanted to be as strong as the two of them. The odds of the very same people he look up to, as the two individuals who would be able to stop him, I would suspect as very high at this point.

When they were younger, Reiner has always been the one that’s pulled Eren up when he’s down, nearly giving up & at the lowest points of his life. He was also the one who convinced Eren to ‘keep on moving forward’, which we’ll learn later was one of the most ironic moments that Reiner recalled as he feels responsible for everything that begun, which also pushed his guilt inside him to his near-suicide attempt.

Survey Corps

Reveal on Wall Rose

Mikasa, was one of the few junior SC members who were called in for the secret meeting with the unit’s top brass the night before the reveal. She was made aware of Reiner & Bertolt’s possible identity as the enemy after she assisted with apprehending Annie in Wall Sina. While Reiner was talking to Eren, Mikasa could be seen being highly agitated, hands shaking as she waited with unease breath for Reiner & Bertolt to make their move.

She was later seen questioning her hesitance on delivering the killing blow or at least enough to incapacitate them. Mikasa called Reiner & Bertolt “the plague of humanity” in anger and absolute disappointment. They were still her friends that she knew for three years & it had been difficult for her to kill them.

Thunder Spears Training

Mikasa could be seen reflecting in a combination of unease, sadness & regret as she recalled back the moment she was unable to break Reiner’s armor with her blades.

Return to Shinganshina

Mikasa was the one who crippled the Armored’s legs. She wasn’t as emotional as Connie, Jean & Sasha but there was a deep, painful rumination on her part the moment they assumed that Reiner was dead dead. She was also the one who noticed the sudden move from Reiner’s Armored Titan. In the anime, she could be seen angry & frustrated at Reiner’s refusal to confess that she pulled too hard on the bandage in her hands while she was helping Jean with his injuries.

Time-Skip (Current)

Reiner’s reminiscence & nightmares

Reiner’s reminiscence of Mikasa was indirect, but he highlighted her (and Armin’s) fierce, unwavering loyalty towards Eren. He had recurring nightmares of her & Levi that are the symptoms of his PTSD. The anime specifically used her shot to highlight the last image of her that he saw: anger.

Assault in Liberio

You could see the existing disappointment on her face when Reiner’s partially transformed Titan appeared, having to cross paths again in such a way after four years. She could’ve intervened the way she did with Galliard’s Jaw but she didn’t. Eren said Reiner’s out of any energy left to retaliate and Mikasa didn’t disagree. At this point, Mikasa is already affected by Eren’s actions in murdering the women & children inside the building that he shifted in and the destruction they all left behind.

Connection through Gabi

Reiner’s young cousin reminded Armin & Mikasa of a young Eren. The difference is that, Gabi had an early opportunity to be saved through the compassion showed by Mikasa and Sasha’s beloved family. The very same people who had every right to be sad, grieving and taking out their anger on the child who gunned down their beloved friend & daughter.

Mikasa doesn’t verbally express her emotions but it can be shown through her body language & facial expressions. I love seeing the tender way she pressed Gabi’s head onto her shoulder as protection and a symbolism of safety. It was a bit sad that this ‘bond’ was short-lived but what an amazing connection it would’ve been if Mikasa & Gabi had been given more space to develop their bond in canon.

Concern for Reiner & Annie

Usually when Mikasa verbally expresses something, it is usually important/significant to her. In ch.124, she could be seen asking Gabi about Reiner’s location. Why? It’s because she is concerned for Reiner’s safety. If his Armors were undone, he was vulnerable and with pure Titans and the Colossal Titans walking around, he would be in danger.

“We need to help Reiner & Annie.” She was heavily concerned with Reiner and Annie’s lives at the docks. But this moment is more important for Connie as a callback to the moment when Annie & Reiner both had saved Connie when they were trainees.

Adjacent Manga/Official Art Paneling(s)

In the current final arc of the manga, (several panels have been highlighted in Pt.1) it’s quite interesting to note that Mikasa & Reiner’s characters/panelings have been drawn adjacent to each other. I could also see the way Armin, Reiner & Mikasa (ARM) are getting primary focus by Isayama in this final arc.

Others (Misc./Semi-canon)

Cool-faced Cookie (Attack on Titan Game)

When Reiner suggested the player to do a melee practice with two other sparring partners, he immediately spotted Mikasa & Historia. It’s very interesting to note that Reiner’s nickname for Mikasa is “Cool-faced cookie” as he hinted the player to ask Mikasa for an impromptu practice.

The blink and miss furtive glance(s)

In Lost Girls OVA’s ED by WIT, a screenshot of the primary 104th walking together could be seen. Mikasa could be seen sneaking a glance at Reiner.

In a scene during the fresh SC recruits discussing intensely about Eren’s role as humanity’s hope, Reiner could be seen glancing silently with concern for Mikasa, as Jean questions her vouch of confidence in Eren’s abilities.

In Snk OVA#3, Mikasa is grouped with Reiner for the excursion and they could be seen having good teamwork together. When Mikasa’s ‘sixth senses’ are triggered due to Eren being in danger, Reiner could be seen looking at her direction immediately as if sensing her distress. 

Characteristics & Zodiac Signs

Amazing/Compassionate with children

Known as the Shield of Marley, Reiner’s a caring keeper, a natural leader and a provider who’s naturally amazing with children. Everyone looks up to him. Would’ve made a good family man if the circumstances were different. Based on his characteristics & physical attribute, he reminds me of Mikasa’s father below, no matter how short-lived he was. I could see her admiring that side of him even if it wasn’t mentioned directly. They are both loving, selfless, protective towards their child/ward.

Mikasa, true to her name, an Ackerman, a genetically-enhanced super soldier/warrior of Paradis that wields their blades with the highest efficiency. Though she might not seem as natural with children, did come from a healthy & loving upbringing with her parents for nine years. Her real persona as a child pre-awakening is a curious, thoughtful and actually a warm-hearted girl. Post-awakening characteristics could also be contributed from the traumas imposed by the murder of her parents, the fall of Wall Maria, the death of Carla & having to shoulder the immediate responsibility as Eren’s new ‘guardian’/caregiver/problem-solver/mess-cleaner.

She shown her compassion towards Gabi, which in turn had proved to the little girl how there are good-hearted, forgiving people in the Island. Mikasa could be observed as being heavily concerned with Falco as she questioned Jean about the young  boy. One could see the anger on her face when she saw Connie took off and abducted Falco to be fed to his mom. She drew the line in harming children even if they’re trained enemy soldiers.

Aquarius & Leo’s Compatibility

Reiner’s a Leo and Mikasa’s an Aquarius. Their characteristics are too coincidental to their respective astrological signs to be disregarded completely.

He’s an extrovert (Ref: younger!Reiner. Older Reiner too but his PTSD’s and maturity have taken over his more outgoing personality) that compliments her introvert personality yet they both have their inner demons to deal with and could somehow understand that about each other. He’s a ray of sunshine that could enlighten her melancholic personality. Yet their dominant personalities, although might be clashing at first, eventually would lead them to respect the other’s perspective. This would ring true when they were younger. Currently they have grown older, wiser and more understanding of the other.

At the current Final Arc, this has been highlighted in Part 1, recent chapters have shown older Reiner and Mikasa’s unspoken respect and understanding for each other. The current Reiner’s natural leadership as a born Leo is very apparent. Reiner was being very mindful of her feelings as Eren is a very sensitive subject & Mikasa took in Reiner’s words with serious consideration. 

It would be great to see more of their combined synergy as Reiner & Mikasa’s teamwork could be seen once again in ch.135. Aquarius & Leo would take turns to take a back seat while letting the other leads.

They are actually very physically and sensually compatible with each other & could potentially be an unstoppable force if they were to fight for the same side. At the moment, I’m hoping to see this potentially deadly combination once again in ch.136 onwards. They could’ve overtaken Eren’s Founding Form is it wasn’t for OG!Ymir’s one-sided overkill powers. To the real God who created the parasite worm, please take powers away frpm this uncontrollable grandma in a little girl’s body.

More of Mikasa’s Aquarius & Reiner’s Leo Compatibility Meter with description below:

Since this is SnK and not Berserk/Tokyo Ghoul/insert other josei manga titles, no one’s having sex directly haha In an ideal world, Reiner & Mikasa’s physical attractions for each other will almost be off the charts. “When they find true emotion, Aquarius might actually end up respecting the king”. In current arc, this can be observed. She respects Reiner & his words.

The above describes both Mikasa and Reiner respectively. Mikasa does not reach for heroism directly but it can be seen indirectly from the way she had inspired a child Louise through her bravery, protecting Gabi and rescuing/protecting the Azumabito Service crew from the Jeagerists. Reiner has always been born to be a hero, regardless of the circumstances of his conception or birth.

“If they end up fighting for the same cause, they could turn down entire governments and use their incredible force to change anything in the world.”

Even oppressive, destructive supernatural, God-like powers? Ymir & Eren, better be prepared. 

 “To get there, these two would have to stop the battle they have with each other.” Check and Check.

“Leo -- has the ability to give clarity to any situation.” Ch.133. That was not Reiner projecting. He’s always been Eren’s counterpart. He’s telling the readers that there’s a part of Eren out there that still wants to be stopped since he has surrender his will to Ymir. She took his words into serious consideration and in Paths, voices out to Eren on his sins and burden.

“Leo is exactly what Aquarius needs to find love. -- to liberate and shine as if they have been searching for one another for many lifetimes.” In an ideal world or in my gazillion AUs: Reiner and Mikasa could be soulmates.

This could ring true for the younger Reiner & Mikasa.

Reiner and Mikasa both are indeed strong, selfless individuals in each other’s eyes. This can be observed in Ch.133 & 135. Reiner feared her but respect her strength & feelings when it relates to Eren nevertheless. Even Reiner was taken aback by Pieck’s ultimatum in blowing the Founder’s neck, although Armin had suggested the same thing the night before.

“Just like the Sun and the lightning don’t go together, Aquarius should take over on a rainy day, in a depressive crowd or in places where they both feel as if they would drown. This is where Leo needs to give in and let their partner rule the sky--”  It wasn’t a rainy day or depressive crowd in ch. 135, it was a chaotic shitstorm and they were all not drowning but dying. Period. Our dear Mikasa took charge like a BAMF Queen that she is. She was putting her life on the line to protect the four injured men behind them. She aimed to buy them more time if she could as everyone expected it to be the end. As highlighted in Pt.1, you could see the helplessness on Reiner’s face when he saw Mikasa’s breaking point.

Reference : http://www.astrology-zodiac-signs.com/compatibility/aquarius-leo/

Final Exhibition

The Final Exhibition highlights the Last Stand: the direct final confrontation between The Founding/Attack against The Armored, with Mikasa being in the middle of the confrontation, tipping the scales of the outcome. Before, she assisted Eren against Reiner. Currently, she is working with Reiner to stop Eren.

Trio(s) Parallel

An interesting panel from ch.97:

EMA & RBA have always been lauded as the main trio of their respective sides. We have seen Armin taking over Bertolt’s powers & is potentially promised a future with the girl that Bertolt had feelings for. Recognize the probable pattern?

Guy from trio 1 ate Guy from trio 2′s Titan & is promised a potential future with the girl he cares for/have feelings for/close with from the trio.

Only one between between Eren & Reiner will remain. What if the story begins with Eren but will end with Reiner all along?

SnK HighSchool AU / Breakfast Club X-over

In the movie, the Jock (Quarterback!Reiner) ends up with the Rebel (Goth!Mikasa). He looks past her eccentricity & see her for who she is. This is a fun crossover by Isayama but very interesting to see Armin, Mikasa & Reiner work together to save Eren in the fake previews.

Whether the combined strength and perseverance of the Blade of Paradis & the Shield of Marley be enough to save the world from total annihilation? It remains to be seen very, very soon.

No matter how the series ends, whether both Reiner and Mikasa survive or not, I’ll be looking back in pride upon seeing their journey, growth & dynamics as either individual or together in this beautiful series by Hajime Isayama’s brilliant mind. Because of him, these two characters inspired his readers, myself included, to be brave and fight for what they truly believe in: humanity & its continuation. It has been an incredible ride and I will continue to enjoy writing for this OTP/BROTP, that I’ve fell so deeply in love with and their vast possibilities.

[kneipho]

Hope Springs Eternal Part 1

I shivered

palpably in response to the stimulus of this auspicious winter morning as though I were a nervous acolyte on his first day of probation.

It was that benchmark event called my Birthday.

Like Christmas and Easter they have this annular ring in every sense.

Dates and their import. I was raised to have the healthiest respect for them.

A rendezvous of another kind awaited me later in the day that was seasonal in another sense.

But that just added a certain spring to my step.

Entering my eight decade on earth I dragged that motley crew of bones about me.

Like a hod carrier carting clusters of smokeless polish coal for some imperious client.

But the mind has immense powers waiting to be tapped.

A mineral rich load, a vein of resources with targeted thoughts that were the match for any prescription medicine.

Age is but a number and they can be sung in harmony with one’s universe or jarringly and at odds.

I’m a late in life poet with lines very gingerly crafted at this point in time.

My aunt Virginia who raised me when my mother died started the revolution in my thinking.

“Your mind should be a diary.

Always take note of what’s happening around you and when it happened.

Time, dates, everything.

It always comes in useful.”

She said in that nuanced tonic sol fa accent of hers.

Virginia instilled in me this most functional regard for which I am eternally grateful.

Her words about dates and time echoed continually through the recesses of mind to my ultimate benefit.

I had the required notepad and pen at hand to record anything I could sculpt into a creative ode.

As of yet

a title eluded me but maybe something lustrous, radiant romantic would be apt.

Quite a lot has been composed already much to my surprise.

Virginia’s advice and the embryonic epic planted fertile shoots in my head as I entered the kitchen.

I called it my domain.

Structured in an algebraic fashion with proximity dovetailing elegance it resembled a gallery.

The sink and shrouded tap heads my first port of call.

Stooping over archly I filled a gleaming white plastic jug kettle for that morale boosting first cup of tea.

As I sipped my tea the insights Virginia kindly bequeathed started flooding back.

Those condensed pearls of wisdom regarding time and it’s ambience.

Optimism and cheer were her other passions.

As well as paying attention.

“Focus on your environment. There is joy in abundance.” Virginia opined.

“A treasure trove awaits for those who concentrate.” She said.

“Where there is joy there’s hope.

Time and hope are intertwined.”

Never losing a chance to stress matters time-related.

Typical Virginia logic.

I’m taking it more seriously now as my respect for that statute of limitations called life expectancy approaches.

This lady’s pointers were manfully ingested as my tea stained cup wobbled in my right hand with it’s rivulet of veins.

The tea leaves scattered wildly in that microcosm of a drinking vessel had a fleeting fascination for me.

But as I scanned my surroundings with the eye of a keyhole surgeon I couldn’t help but notice something else.

The kaleidoscope of colour filling the french panel window in front of the kitchen sink.

Window drabness red carded with the zeal of a strict umpire dismissing an offending player.

My intuition told me to brace myself for events both surprising and anticipated .

This afternoon’s engagement is to the forefront of my mind and for good reason.

Think I’ll leave the cell phone behind.

Or did I hear it go off?

My device was of the more crowded cumbersome type with stubborn square buttons that even the more dexterous hand would find difficult to navigate.

The fingers slipped involuntarily like I sometimes did on those treacherous black ice patches.

“It’ll wait. Can’t really be that important.” I said to myself.

It was one of those phones that emitted this discordant buzz when some arrant nuisance rings at the most inopportune time which is often.

“No … face the morning and it’s canvas of brittle prospect.” Speaking with eloquent pride to myself, Hamilton Lake.

Walking outside on this my 78th birthday could be seen as an obstacle course.

I’ve always had a thing about posture.

The feet must be properly positioned and ready for anything unexpected.

The steps from my house could be awkward and angular with hidden crevices.

Those rugged pockmarks gouged out by the chisel of that tyrant called the elements.

The inherent beauty of garden plants, on the other hand,

purged whatever sluggishness there was in my frame.

Their spectral tint and gravity defying droop gave my eyes an optic fillip.

Green border shrubs and yellow rose petals bore a magic that defied description.

Albeit with telltale winter stains.

But the mindfulness of gait and knowing that slippage could be fatal moderated my enthusiasm about my settings.

Onto the yard and then the slope towards town with a propensity for the occasional wobble notwithstanding.

A downward denouement laced with grit and optimism.

The verges on the fringe of each footpath were covered with tufts of flickering grass cavorting about in a light south east breeze.

Haywire brambles whose overlapping tentacles were embedded in every mound or patch.

Star shaped brown leaves as veiled cover for those sharp spines sticking out.

The bane of every bulging blood vessel.

An ice clad descent that can either capsize or upend even the most determined stride.

Ice that most deceptive gloss that far too easily masks it’s latent perils.

Irrespective I continued unabashed.

The heart, portent of fragility, bruising barometer of one’s twilight moment can be an ally.

A motivator of noble human impulse.

My rainbow tipped walking stick was my elder compass.

A bearing locator for crazy paving pavement slabs.

Those structures fractured by peculiarities of sudden temperature with their plummets and summits!

But focus though impaired was motivated by a stoic forbearance imbued with fire in the soul.

Virginia’s velvet toned voice enjoined on us at home to watch the clouds.

The wispy contours, greyed over forms, wooly frills and outlines drifting overhead.

She also warned of their penchant for unleashing torrents which could spoil the daily strolls of even the most ernest of ramblers.

Today the clouds weaved their way across that azure blue path called the sky.

Curiously enough the self same clouds added to their repertoire by the graceful skirting of rooftops and faraway rock formations on the outskirts of town.

“Clouds are a heavenly canvas. A floating exhibit of the firmament.

They inspire poets, works of art.” Virginia said.

They were doing just that in my case with aplomb.

The planned mysterious link up was never lost sight of amid Virginia’s majestic musings.

“Use your imagination or your imagination will use you. The borders between make belief and the real world must always be maintained.

Imaginings of every kind can be triggered by just about anything familiar.

They can assume a life of their own.”

Wonderful counsel from a wonderful woman.

Virginia, however, unlike some philosophers had a marvelous sense of humor but abhorred the canned, corny variety.

Although such humor couldn’t always be avoided I was mindful of her sensitivity on the subject.

Meticulously taking out that pad again I scribbled a few more lines.

It’s beginning to fill up.

The only thing that remains is to have someone to dedicate it to.

The human eye, a person’s best camera turned to the leach like ivy carpet which clung with tenacity to the grey grained stone wall narrowly to my right.

Preserving their corporeal integrity and playing their part while going largely unobserved.

Fir trees, enclosed by pavement railings and gardens had an overwhelming stillness about them.

An unyielding rooted presence.

They too are age defiant when cultivated and getting the right supports.

These trees act as filters for the dust, smoke and fumed manifestations of the modern manufacturer.

Urban heat island effect offset and mitigated.

All these details forensically noted.

A sudden wakening ensued.

“Hi there, Hamilton. Lovely morning for a stroll.”

My inner space rightly interrupted for a different reality.

“Maybe we’ll meet later at one of your favourite spots or a coffee shop.”

Local teens, Sonia and Winfred with whom I regularly crossed paths and swopped pleasantries of a deeper heartfelt kind.

They alighted from their bicycles

“It’s your birthday today isn’t it?

You’d put people half your age and mine to shame.” The young lady Sonia said.

Winfred her boyfriend agreed.

“Such generosity I rarely encountered from my own group.” I thought to myself.

Sonia, a vibrant vivacious youth whose tactful airborne words shone as brightly as her arched angelic face.

Winfred, her boyfriend had a slightly bulging chin and matted haired that looked as if it had been constantly drenched.

His was a handsomeness harrowed out by high jinx and crack of dawn capers.

After a friendly departure this couple dashed off with a daring and delight so dirigere of the young.

As well as the young at heart.

–

Sunday Submission: @mantrabay

Photograph and short story by mantrabay copyright protected.

Part two will be submitted next week with your kind permission.

[mantrabay]

Hope Springs Eternal Part 1.

I shivered

palpably in response to the stimulus of this auspicious winter morning as though I were a nervous acolyte on his first day of probation.

It was that benchmark event called my Birthday.

Like Christmas and Easter they have this annular ring in every sense.

Dates and their import. I was raised to have the healthiest respect for them.

A rendezvous of another kind awaited me later in the day that was seasonal in another sense.

But that just added a certain spring to my step.

Entering my eight decade on earth I dragged that motley crew of bones about me.

Like a hod carrier carting clusters of smokeless polish coal for some imperious client.

But the mind has immense powers waiting to be tapped.

A mineral rich load, a vein of resources with targeted thoughts that were the match for any prescription medicine.

Age is but a number and they can be sung in harmony with one’s universe or jarringly and at odds.

I’m a late in life poet with lines very gingerly crafted at this point in time.

My aunt Virginia who raised me when my mother died started the revolution in my thinking.

“Your mind should be a diary.

Always take note of what’s happening around you and when it happened.

Time, dates, everything.

It always comes in useful.”

She said in that nuanced tonic sol fa accent of hers.

Virginia instilled in me this most functional regard for which I am eternally grateful.

Her words about dates and time echoed continually through the recesses of mind to my ultimate benefit.

I had the required notepad and pen at hand to record anything I could sculpt into a creative ode.

As of yet

a title eluded me but maybe something lustrous, radiant romantic would be apt.

Quite a lot has been composed already much to my surprise.

Virginia’s advice and the embryonic epic planted fertile shoots in my head as I entered the kitchen.

I called it my domain.

Structured in an algebraic fashion with proximity dovetailing elegance it resembled a gallery.

The sink and shrouded tap heads my first port of call.

Stooping over archly I filled a gleaming white plastic jug kettle for that morale boosting first cup of tea.

As I sipped my tea the insights Virginia kindly bequeathed started flooding back.

Those condensed pearls of wisdom regarding time and it’s ambience.

Optimism and cheer were her other passions.

As well as paying attention.

“Focus on your environment. There is joy in abundance.” Virginia opined.

“A treasure trove awaits for those who concentrate.” She said.

“Where there is joy there’s hope.

Time and hope are intertwined.”

Never losing a chance to stress matters time-related.

Typical Virginia logic.

I’m taking it more seriously now as my respect for that statute of limitations called life expectancy approaches.

This lady’s pointers were manfully ingested as my tea stained cup wobbled in my right hand with it's rivulet of veins.

The tea leaves scattered wildly in that microcosm of a drinking vessel had a fleeting fascination for me.

But as I scanned my surroundings with the eye of a keyhole surgeon I couldn't help but notice something else.

The kaleidoscope of colour filling the french panel window in front of the kitchen sink.

Window drabness red carded with the zeal of a strict umpire dismissing an offending player.

My intuition told me to brace myself for events both surprising and anticipated .

This afternoon’s engagement is to the forefront of my mind and for good reason.

Think I’ll leave the cell phone behind.

Or did I hear it go off?

My device was of the more crowded cumbersome type with stubborn square buttons that even the more dexterous hand would find difficult to navigate.

The fingers slipped involuntarily like I sometimes did on those treacherous black ice patches.

“It’ll wait. Can’t really be that important.” I said to myself.

It was one of those phones that emitted this discordant buzz when some arrant nuisance rings at the most inopportune time which is often.

“No … face the morning and it’s canvas of brittle prospect.” Speaking with eloquent pride to myself, Hamilton Lake.

Walking outside on this my 78th birthday could be seen as an obstacle course.

I've always had a thing about posture.

The feet must be properly positioned and ready for anything unexpected.

The steps from my house could be awkward and angular with hidden crevices.

Those rugged pockmarks gouged out by the chisel of that tyrant called the elements.

The inherent beauty of garden plants, on the other hand,

purged whatever sluggishness there was in my frame.

Their spectral tint and gravity defying droop gave my eyes an optic fillip.

Green border shrubs and yellow rose petals bore a magic that defied description.

Albeit with telltale winter stains.

But the mindfulness of gait and knowing that slippage could be fatal moderated my enthusiasm about my settings.

Onto the yard and then the slope towards town with a propensity for the occasional wobble notwithstanding.

A downward denouement laced with grit and optimism.

The verges on the fringe of each footpath were covered with tufts of flickering grass cavorting about in a light south east breeze.

Haywire brambles whose overlapping tentacles were embedded in every mound or patch.

Star shaped brown leaves as veiled cover for those sharp spines sticking out.

The bane of every bulging blood vessel.

An ice clad descent that can either capsize or upend even the most determined stride.

Ice that most deceptive gloss that far too easily masks it’s latent perils.

Irrespective I continued unabashed.

The heart, portent of fragility, bruising barometer of one’s twilight moment can be an ally.

A motivator of noble human impulse.

My rainbow tipped walking stick was my elder compass.

A bearing locator for crazy paving pavement slabs.

Those structures fractured by peculiarities of sudden temperature with their plummets and summits!

But focus though impaired was motivated by a stoic forbearance imbued with fire in the soul.

Virginia’s velvet toned voice enjoined on us at home to watch the clouds.

The wispy contours, greyed over forms, wooly frills and outlines drifting overhead.

She also warned of their penchant for unleashing torrents which could spoil the daily strolls of even the most ernest of ramblers.

Today the clouds weaved their way across that azure blue path called the sky.

Curiously enough the self same clouds added to their repertoire by the graceful skirting of rooftops and faraway rock formations on the outskirts of town.

“Clouds are a heavenly canvas. A floating exhibit of the firmament.

They inspire poets, works of art.” Virginia said.

They were doing just that in my case with aplomb.

The planned mysterious link up was never lost sight of amid Virginia’s majestic musings.

“Use your imagination or your imagination will use you. The borders between make belief and the real world must always be maintained.

Imaginings of every kind can be triggered by just about anything familiar.

They can assume a life of their own.”

Wonderful counsel from a wonderful woman.

Virginia, however, unlike some philosophers had a marvelous sense of humor but abhorred the canned, corny variety.

Although such humor couldn't always be avoided I was mindful of her sensitivity on the subject.

Meticulously taking out that pad again I scribbled a few more lines.

It’s beginning to fill up.

The only thing that remains is to have someone to dedicate it to.

The human eye, a person’s best camera turned to the leach like ivy carpet which clung with tenacity to the grey grained stone wall narrowly to my right.

Preserving their corporeal integrity and playing their part while going largely unobserved.

Fir trees, enclosed by pavement railings and gardens had an overwhelming stillness about them.

An unyielding rooted presence.

They too are age defiant when cultivated and getting the right supports.

These trees act as filters for the dust, smoke and fumed manifestations of the modern manufacturer.

Urban heat island effect offset and mitigated.

All these details forensically noted.

A sudden wakening ensued.

“Hi there, Hamilton. Lovely morning for a stroll.”

My inner space rightly interrupted for a different reality.

“Maybe we’ll meet later at one of your favourite spots or a coffee shop.”

Local teens, Sonia and Winfred with whom I regularly crossed paths and swopped pleasantries of a deeper heartfelt kind.

They alighted from their bicycles

“It’s your birthday today isn’t it?

You’d put people half your age and mine to shame.” The young lady Sonia said.

Winfred her boyfriend agreed.

“Such generosity I rarely encountered from my own group.” I thought to myself.

Sonia, a vibrant vivacious youth whose tactful airborne words shone as brightly as her arched angelic face.

Winfred, her boyfriend had a slightly bulging chin and matted haired that looked as if it had been constantly drenched.

His was a handsomeness harrowed out by high jinx and crack of dawn capers.

After a friendly departure this couple dashed off with a daring and delight so dirigere of the young.

As well as the young at heart.

Photograph and short story by mantrabay copyright protected.

[greatshell-rider]

“Al, wait!” Toby cried, scrambling after her. “We shouldn’t be here!”

“What are you, scared?” she called over her shoulder, long strides quick and eager.

“Yeah! Yeah, I am! If M. Harriet finds out about this . . .”

“Hmmm,” was all the response he got.

He shook his head, making the light streaming ahead of him from his headlamp wobble, and hurried faster to catch up to the thin slip of a girl marching through the cave, her blond hair swinging smartly from side to side in its ponytail, synced to her step. She was so sure of herself, always in motion, never waiting for any one or thing to tell her what to do. The camp counselors had never stood a chance. Toby couldn’t convince her to leave using threats; he had to appeal to her own interests and goals, not what others thought of or would do to her.

So he tried again. “Randall said the meteor shower’s peak is happening at three A.M., which is—” he checked his wristwatch— “an hour away! We won’t see anything good unless we start heading back now—”

“What does Randall know?” Al interrupted, dismissive. “Besides, don’t you want to see Jack again? We’re doing this for you, remember.”

“We don’t have to be doing this at night,” Toby complained, but he hesitated. Jack. Two days had passed since he’d stumbled upon that lost hiker in the woods while in the middle of the deep-woods navigation scavenger hunt, two days since Toby had seen or spoken to him—and even just hearing his name made him shiver.

The memory was so distinct in his mind. Kneeling by the stranger’s head from where they lay a distance from the closest deer trail, apparently having collapsed and definitely unconscious. They had a pulse, but was badly sunburned, with cracked lips and no water bottle or snacks that Toby could see. Dirty, disheveled and torn clothes, all fabric and skin caked with dust, but their hair had stayed soft, long black curls falling over Toby’s hands like water as he’d carefully moved the hiker’s head to a more comfortable position after rolling them over onto their back. As soon as he had touched his water bottle to the hiker’s lips, they’d awoken, dark green eyes flaring open to meet Toby’s own. After some awkward explaining and introductions, Toby had learned:

1. The hiker’s name was Jack.

2. Jack was far from home.

3. He wanted to return, but couldn’t leave the mountains until he found something that had been lost.

4. That thing was in Spruce Fire Cave.

And Toby knew this already: Spruce Fire was within Blue River Campgrounds, and no outside visitors were allowed in.

“But I need it,” Jack had said, fierce and earnest, gripping Toby’s hand hard. “It’s rightfully mine. They took it from me and—” A snap of a tree branch startled them both, and Jack jerked to his feet, looking like a deer who’d spotted a hound. “They can’t find me,” he’d hissed, then disappeared into the trees before Toby could object, right as Al had stepped out, asking who that’d been.

Al could keep a secret though. She kept plenty of her own to herself; Toby didn’t know if a soul knew where Al had come from, or who her parents were, not even the counselors or M. Harriet. But she also had connections, ways to smuggle information or goods in and out of camp, and before sundown of the same day, she’d found out more about Jack from her contact in town.

A ghost, apparently. Jack was a ghost.

“How long has he been haunting this mountain, again?” Toby asked reluctantly, brought out of the past by the realization that he’d been quiet for a while now, and they were deeper than ever in Spruce Fire Cave.

“Mal says the stories start some ten, fifteen years back,” Al said, ducking under a low outcropping of rock before turning sideways to squeeze down a narrow passage. She grunted, and her next words came out strained. “Overnight hikers can hear him at the edges of their campfire at night, asking for directions. But they say he’ll stay lost until he finds his compass. His mother’s or something.”

“His mother who died in the fire,” Toby said, gut twisting, and he barely even noticed the constriction on his ribs as he followed after Al.

“Well they both died—though no one can agree exactly how—but it was his fault. And that’s why he’s the ghost. He’s got to make it better. So they say.”

“So they say,” Toby echoed, then concentrated as they reached the tricky part of the cave, where the ceiling was relatively high, but the path narrow, with a crevice wide enough to fall down on Toby’s left. The counselors had made everyone go single-file here, with an adult at the beginning and at the end of “Traitor’s Teeth”, as it was called, because of the jagged rocks forming the lip of the crevice that made it look like a grinning mouth. But just a little farther, and they would reach the end of the cave, the largest cavern with its clearwater pool and impressive curtain of stalactites that almost seemed to glow when all the campers had their flashlights turned on them. Toby remembered his cabin’s visit from the beginning of the week well, and the counselors had warned sternly about the consequences of littering in the cave—no way a compass had been left there, if one had ever been found.

But Toby still had to try and look. He couldn’t help but sympathize with ghosts; he’d grown up with his father telling him about his grandmother, after all. If there was a chance he could help Jack—who looked no older than Toby’s fourteen—he had to take it. No matter what he did, he couldn’t shake the image of cradling Jack’s head in his lap, the weight of it on his hands. He had seemed so real, so vulnerable, and the thought of the pain that he had experienced, was still experiencing, for fifteen years now, made Toby’s heart ache.

Al was right. The counselors never would have let them go up into Spruce Fire alone. Sure, it wasn’t safe to be here at night, but it was the only way.

They were still on Traitor’s Teeth. Toby nearly bumped into Al before realizing she’d stopped dead in her tracks. “Al?” he said, peering over her shoulder.

Silently, she pointed. Barely a foot ahead, a chunk of stone was missing from the path, leaving a ragged hole that joined with the crevice. Al swore quietly, then stepped up to the hole and leaned over to examine it.

“Al, careful!” Toby grabbed her shoulder in alarm, partly to keep her from falling, and partly because the sight suddenly made him dizzy. The nausea in his stomach rose, and coldness flushed down the back of his neck as his nervousness returned. “Al,” he forced out, holding himself steady against her, “now we really need to get back. There’s no way we’ll get past that!”

“You’re right,” Al said, straightening.

“No, really, it’s too big. We can’t—wait, what?”

“Let’s go, Toby,” Al said, turning around and moving his hand off her.

“Awesome,” he said faintly, shuffling his feet to go back the other way, but had to stop when the nausea hit again, this time like a punch to his stomach. He groaned and hunched over, barely holding himself back from puking the remains of dinner—chili dogs—into Traitor’s Teeth.

“Toby?” he heard Al say, but dimly, as if she were far away rather than right next to him, and felt pressure on his shoulder as she grabbed him. “Are you—”

And then he was falling.

And then it went black.

~~~~

Toby woke to Al calling his name and shaking his shoulder, then the glaring yellow light of her headlamp when he opened his eyes. He groaned, trying to turn away, but it hurt too much, he realized. Every bone in his body hurt, and his head was screaming. He touched his temple, and it came away wet with blood.

“Finally you’re awake,” Al said, in a different tone Toby had ever heard from her. “I wasn’t looking forward to dragging you, you know. Now, up you go.” She tugged on his arm, and he let her pull him unsteadily to his feet. “Woah,” she said as he swayed, his eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched tight as a new wave of nausea swept over him. She laughed when he sagged against her, but slung an arm over his shoulders to support him. “My, how close two can get in less than a week.”

Her laugh upset him. “What’s funny about this?” he asked, forcing his eyes open. His headlamp was out, but Al’s still worked, and he could make out gray stone all around them, different from the brown rock of Spruce Fire. “Al, where are we?”

She pointed up, and Toby craned his aching head back to see a ragged rip in the rock ceiling above them. The light of Al’s headlamp threw back dramatic shadows in the stone teeth, making them look huge and sharp. He blinked a few times in confusion, his body hurting so much he could hardly think, but then everything that had happened caught up to him. “We fell down Traitor’s Teeth?”

“You fell,” Al said, tipping her head toward him. “I more like, skidded down, on my feet.” She moved her free hand down diagonally, making short, jerky stops to mimic a descent down an uneven slope. “Easy enough. But come on. It’s close.” She started walking.

“You followed me down?” Toby said in disbelief, forced to stumble after her with her arm still around him. “Why didn’t you go for help! Now we’re both stuck down here! Al!”

She grinned, teeth glinting in the light of her headlamp, but her eyes stayed forward. “Aw, but I care about you. Aren’t you flattered I came after you? You just matter so much.”

He stared at her. Al might’ve disdained the counselors, and knew nothing but fight with authority figures, but she wasn’t ever mean to her peers. Not to him. They . . . they were friends. And she was smart, smarter and faster than any other kid at camp. Had Toby fallen down the crevice, she would’ve gone for help. This wasn’t like her. None of this made sense.

“Where are we going?” he said, alarmed, as he realized they were going. “Al, the Teeth are back there!” He struggled to turn around, get her arm off of him, but her grip was strong, and she kept pulling him forward.

“While we’re down here, we might as well explore,” she purred. Her light, playful voice didn’t match the rest of her at all—not the quick, urgent stride of her long legs, nor the strange, feverish light shining in her eyes. Her entire body buzzed with tension, reminding Toby of a cat crouched in the grass, one pounce away from a kill.

“Al, I want to go back. Please.” His voice trembled on the last word, and Toby was suddenly aware he was close to tears. He could barely stand, let alone walk, his head wanted to explode, and his stomach was still twisted in knots. “I’m done with this cave, done with Jack—”

“Not yet you aren’t,” she murmured, more to herself than him, and came to a stop. Abruptly Toby realized they’d come to a dead end, a bare wall of nearly straight stone before them. It was a paler gray than before, with veins and patches of smoky white throughout it, and it looked oddly smooth, not natural at all.

Al let go of him, and Toby slumped to the ground. All he wanted was to curl up and let the pain take over, but he forced himself to watch as Al walked up and placed a hand against the stone, lightly, skin just barely touching. “ ‘Bury a child of Veranas under ashes and starfall to unlock the gate,’ ” she mused to the rock, “ ‘and unworldly treasures shall be yours.’ ”

Toby jolted at the name of his grandmother. His pain dimmed, only to make room for the fear. “Who are you?” he whispered, trembling. “What do you want with me?” Al turned to him with a smile sharp with delight, and suddenly Toby remembered the moment before he’d fallen down Traitor’s Teeth.

Al had pushed him.

He shrunk away as she approached him, and cried out when she grabbed him, but she ignored his kicks and flails as she dragged him up to the stone wall.

“Stop,” he begged, hitting at her side with his hand. “Please, don’t.” One strike must’ve hit harder than the rest, because she grunted, then adjusted her grip to twist his arm sharply behind his back. He cried out, and could only struggle feebly as she forced him up close.

“Hey, be glad I don’t have to use the knife,” she told him. One hand still twisting his arm, she used the other to grab his neck and press the bleeding side of his head, where the fall had cut him, against the rock. “Let’s see if this works,” she said cheerfully, and from the corner of his eye, he saw her bend down to look at his wristwatch. “Two fifty-eight in four. Three. Two. One—”

Fire lit up the side of Toby’s face, a pain sharper and crueler than the rest of his strains and aches combined. He screamed, but didn’t hear it, as his jaw dislocated and his back arched and his whole body began to hum—

Before finally, blissfully, he returned to the black.

~~~~

Lani emerged from Spruce Fire Cave a short time later, a little dustier than she’d started, with a bit of blood staining the collar of her t-shirt, but triumphant. With her headlamp turned off, she looked around the entrance of the cave, then used a tree as a handhold and clambered up the cliff face a ways to reach her brother, sitting on a ledge and watching meteors streak down from the heavens in fiery ecstasy.

“Heyo, Jack,” she hallooed, plunking down beside him.

He rolled his eyes. “Is he okay?”

She rolled her eyes back. “Your boyfriend’s fine. They’ll find him in the morning or never.”

“He’s not—” Jerry cut himself off with a frustrated puff of air, taking a moment to calm himself before continuing in a carefully not-angry tone, “Did you get it?”

Lani fished around in her pocket, pulled out a snail shell, and tossed it to him. Jerry caught it by the fingertips, preventing it from sailing down the mountainside, and threw her a resentful glance. She smiled back, and he exhaled again before turning the shell around in his fingers to examine it by starlight.

“What’s it do?”

She snorted. “It’s a snail shell, Jerry. Snails, uh, live in them.”

His head jerked to her. “This isn’t it? All of this was for nothing?”

She flapped her hand at him. “Calm down, poltergeist. That’s just a neat shell I found in the cave. Curious that a snail found its way all the way down there, you know? I wonder if there’s a species on this ’scape that—”

“Lani,” Jerry cut in, teeth grit. “Did. You. Get. The. Information. Or not.”

She shrugged. “Yeah. There was a skeleton beyond the wall, pale bleached old thing. I sprinkled some of Veranas’ blood on it and it woke right up, chattered away at me about curses, fates, damnation of the world and the failure of my line and all that, then got to the good stuff. Well, I had to threaten to break its ribs with my boot first, and then it agreed to answer my questions, i.e., the good stuff.”

“And?”

“He was here,” she said simply. “We’re on the right trail.”

Jerry let out a long breath, leaning back to settle against the rocks. He stared blankly at the sky. “I was right.”

“Yep.”

They sat quietly for a while, watching the meteor shower. Or, maybe Jerry was. Lani didn’t bother. She tapped her chin after a minute or two. “Although.”

Silently, Jerry turned his head and looked at her. When she said no more, he raised his eyebrows. “Although?”

She lifted her eyebrows back at him. “Someone was here before us. Path was ruined.”

Jerry groaned, hunching over and dragging his hands down his face.

“Crevice got bigger,” Lani continued in a conversational tone. “And the grain of the gate was swirled in a different pattern this time. Skeleton didn’t mention it, but it was hiding a lot. Or it’s not advanced enough to remember anything more than what’s already been programmed. But this, plus what happened to your shoelaces . . .”

“They’ve caught up with us again,” Jerry growled, face still in his hands. “I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them. All of them, I swear.” He repeated that a few times in a dark mutter to himself, along with a few other threats no more creative.

Lani didn’t bother listening to that, either. She was thinking. Her brain was doing that all the time, even without her sometimes, no matter what her brother or other spectators might say in regards to her actions, but now she focused her thoughts solely on this one question, this one puzzle and game. Regular hunters would have attacked them already by now, laid a trap in the cave, probably. Or an ambush on one of the trails. Maybe even a blatant slaughter of the camp—not to cover up their tracks, but as a warning, an example made to their subjects of what happened to those who attempted escape.

But we did escape, she reminded herself. They had to be careful now, not to let them get away forever. A weakness she could exploit.

But that wasn’t the puzzle here. Part of it, but a mere digression from the true question. Whoever had been at the gate had not been their hunters, not the regular ones at least. The signatures didn’t match. So. The question. The puzzle and the game.

Who had it been?

[thedistantstorm]

Project Compass 36

Read along on AO3 here

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This time: The confrontation aboard the Compass reaches its peak.

Next time: Victory has a cost.

-/

When confrontation arose, Vah'nya danced through it. She'd seen it coming, her Sight strong and sure, leaving her aware of her enemy long before it had ever laid eyes upon her. There was a tempo, a rhythm to the altercation that only she knew.

The Grysk was easily four times her weight in their armor, dwarfing her thin frame in width though they were only slightly taller than her in height. They swung at her menacingly, but she saw the move before it happened, ducking under a thick arm to slip both behind and further away.

As her enemy staggered forward empty-handed, bending awkwardly to keep their balance as the deckplates beneath them rumbled and shifted from external plasmasphere impact, Vah'nya spun to face their back and extended her hands. The Grysk spun around as well, putting their back to the rest of their enemies, but it was too late. As if seeing the space between atoms, she charged the air with elemental energy. Ions rearranged themselves and the bolts that coalesced in the expanse between them glowed a searing blue- white, crackling ominously with contact.

Vah’nya’s foe dropped, their body seizing with electricity that ricocheted through the gaps in metal armor. It was a force of nature, a seemingly unnatural thing, and yet the Navigator glowed in its wake. Her skin held a healthy, cerulean-cream shine, her eyes were sharp and ethereal: cognizant of what she'd done, but aware that protecting the lives of her people had been far more important.

Un'hee hadn't needed to see it. Not with her eyes. She could see it in her mind, feel the way Vah'nya's spirit sang as she moved, the absolute sureness of her actions. She understood that there was more to it than sight. More to it than the Sight, in any form.

Vah'nya had instilled sureness, had always led by example. Un'hee might bicker with her ceaselessly, but they were sister-Navigators, and Un'hee could admit her admiration and awe. She should have known that she would not be the first.

She was relieved, if she were to be honest with herself. And that relief felt refreshing, awakening. This great and terrifying power she had discovered was not just her own. All of their sisters could be capable of this. And like she had been shown, after she had seen the way to help save Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Vah'nya would again guide her. Guide them all.

Eli, too. She could feel his heartbeat, muted through his armor, but steady: like a wardrum within his chest. He was calm. This was no surprise.

Of course, she thought. Because Eli had known as long as Vah’nya had. And, more than Vah’nya, Eli knew- No. That line of thought wasn't important, she told herself. What had happened was over now. He had recovered. They both had, and they were here now, fighting.

She could fight, too.

They needed her. Though Eli and Vah'nya were calm, they were the only ones. She sensed panic and fear like a tangible thing. Awe and terror, pride and uncertainty, all of it so very unsure. They had found others, she realized. She, Eli, and Vah’nya were not alone.

Had they found-?

Her memory, momentarily fragmented, disoriented by the subconscious use of her Sight, returned to her swiftly. Eli had helped her. She remembered him triggering Somnia, remembered him saying it was alright, but she needed to know. She needed to see for herself. She wouldn’t forgive herself for killing them, not even for killing the Grysk if it hadn’t been enough to save Thrawn, too.

"Thrawn," She called to him quietly, voice hoarse and dry from disuse and unconsciousness. They couldn’t hear her over the sounds of the dying Grysk and awed Chis. They must have rescueded others, though not many. Strange, it felt so loud to her while everything else was still so muted. She considered that it might be Eli. His close presence was soothing, enough to lull her back to a comfortable state of half-wakefulness, but she needed to come back now.

The thin black material - some synthweave blend that was soft to the touch - was balled in her hands. It took effort to twitch them, to force her tightly curled fists to relent. They did. She focused, looking for Thrawn without her eyes.

He was near to her - to them. Close enough to touch. In the space between awake and unconscious, she sensed his… Apprehension. Acknowledgement. A fear that was almost reverent. Something warily respectful.

Thrawn had seen this before, Un’hee remembered. It was not entirely the same - she’d heard the story of the creature he’d shot down from the sky, a being who called upon a great and terrible storm that did not distinguish between friend and foe - and yet it was. She felt him tense, closing himself off, and twitched again in Eli’s hold like an answer. Thrawn didn’t notice.

But Eli had. She carefully peeled back her covering, finding the halls of the Compass to be darker than she expected. Eli’s tan-skinned features were awash in the ambient glow. His lips curved into a half smile when he met her gaze. She could see the relief war with worry and anger. No doubt she was in trouble with him. She didn’t care right now, squirming, seeing fit to tell him so-

The human didn’t coddle her though. His expression - those deep, dark expressive eyes - showed understanding that outweighed his emotions. He eased her to the ground, assuring himself she was able to support her own weight before letting go.

Eli’s emotions were important, yes, but she had more pressing concerns in that moment. She took a wobbly step to the side and slipped her much smaller hand into Thrawn’s loose fist, half-clenched at his side. Her cold fingers uncurled against his palm, seeking purchase. He did not flinch. His fingers clasped hers in a gentle squeeze before relaxing, but to her surprise, he did not let go.

She looked up to him as he looked down at her, as stern and stoic as she’d remembered the first time they’d met. His eyes were different now. It was as though there was some shroud had been pulled back, though he was no easier to read this way. He felt worried, yes - she could imagine what he’d seen in his mind’s eye watching Vah’nya vanquish their shared enemy - but beneath that, there was something else. He felt balanced now. Balanced I'm no a way that someone didn’t know they could be until they achieved it. It wasn’t feigned or forced out of some sense of duty. It just was.

Un’hee was pulled from her thoughts by Vah’nya. Vah’nya, who refused to acknowledge her quarry beyond confirming it no longer drew breath. She rose to her feet and stepped around gangly, still-twitching limbs and immediately crouched in front of the young girl.

“What were you thinking?” The Senior Navigator bellowed. “You could have been killed!”

“I had to,” Un’hee said, pushing out her chin, her tone increasing in pitch with every word. “I knew I had to just like you. They would have killed him, and I-”

“Not now,” Ivant cut in, extending both his hands in a placating gesture toward the enraged woman. Un’hee couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen true fury in Vah’nya’s eyes. She barely kept it in check, but Un’hee knew fury was easier to channel than fear. Fear would drown them, if they let it. “Later. Mission first.”

Thrawn’s fingers tightened around Un'hee's hand again briefly before he let go. If he was concerned that she stayed all but leaning against him for the moment, he said nothing. She watched him meet Eli’s gaze over her head, saw the way they spoke without words in the two seconds that passed.

To Vah’nya, he began, “Are you able to call upon this... lightning,” He didn't stumble over the word, but the pause was obvious to Un’hee, “On demand?” That rerouted the conversation, the tension, all of it, in a matter of seconds.

Vah’nya pushed a flyaway piece of blue-black hair behind her ear and settled back into the coolness of militant discipline. She explained, “Yes, though truly controlling it is another story. I can see the paths it can take, but it is not a foolproof thing.”

Un’hee only realized that Eli had moved from beside them when she heard the clanging thud of the Grysk’s body being rolled over with his boot. He took a knee and inspected the corpse. Un'hee's forced herself not to look away. She'd done this, too. “It works just fine in close range, and when you focus,” Eli clarified.

Vah’nya inclined her head. "True, but ultimately it is more of a destructive power. It cannot manipulate fragile electronics."

Eli muttered something unintelligible. Not so loudly as to interrupt their exchange entirely, though he did draw Thrawn's sharp gaze. Eli didn't speak up or voice his opinion to the group, so the conversation moved on.

“And I would not not ask it of you,” Thrawn affirmed, shifting his gaze back to her. “But I would ask you to take an alternative route to the bridge.” He considered, “I believe the way you traversed the ship without detection.”

“Not a bad plan if we have something ready on the other end,” Mused Eli, who confirmed Vah'nya's cooperation with a swift nod. Then he rose from beside the body and addressed Thrawn, making it clear that he was the leader, not Eli. Un'hee had wondered. “Another grunt," He said. "I don’t think there’s any high-ranking ones beside that commander who demanded your presence." He toed at the dead alien's armor. "Worst of all, there's nothing we can tie back to our people. We're flying blind on that end.”

"Perhaps," Thrawn considered. “Their liaison with our people is too new for them to rely on a single individual or reveal their cards entirely. Subjugation was hardly their goal in this venture, nor was returning me to Emperor Palpatine, though both would undoubtedly be useful to their cause.”

“You’re right,” Eli agreed. He did not hide his anger now, Un’hee noticed. It was smooth and slick and mostly unfamiliar to her. She knew he did his best to mask his temper, especially with her sisters, and thus was not used to seeing it so close to the surface. “They’re just doing this to show they can. To show how deep they’ve inserted their influence.”

“It will not be tolerated,” Thrawn swore, like a vow. Un’hee believed him. His disdain curled like a predator beneath his skin, though she did not fear the violence he'd bring. Unlike their enemies, his anger and Eli's had a sharp edge. They cared little for conquest. They were driven by their desire to protect.

-/

There was only one way onto the bridge. As such, it had been a no-nonsense, straightforward approach. It has been an offensive that started as stealth, making as little noise as possible, then turned into an all-out assault as they reached the last stretch and passed the point of no return.

Ezra had been surprised by the amount of resistance, and even more surprised by the number of drab-looking Chiss that fought with the same cold fury that his own allies did. They had passed several Grysks that were not the commander. Ezra's allies had keen eyes, but through the Force he had sensed a sort of blank servitude within them as well, so similar to the enemy Chiss forces. It was disturbing.

Even more disturbing was their present situation. Approaching the bridge head on - as was their only realistic option - had left them trapped between the majority of enemy forces aboard the Compass. Ahead of them, the larger contingent fired at them indiscriminately. Behind them, a slow trickle of support crept in to pick them off. Ezra tried his best to see them coming, but they were so flat and unobtrusive, in addition to that usual slippery feeling Chiss had in the Force.

The Chiss beside him, the small team who had suffered losses and were supposed to be better protected because they had his assistance, were tired. Ezra was tired too. They'd been in this killbox for a while now, their enemy just waiting for them to make a mistake. Though he didn't know them well enough to get a good read on them, they were far more open to him in the Force - accepting, perhaps - than their enemies. They were grateful for his intervention, albeit rattled by his abilities. They had never fought with a Jedi. And Ezra hadn't fought like this since he was a rebel and Thrawn his greatest enemy.

He clenched his fists. He missed his lightsaber and its protective hum. There was nothing for it now. He didn't need his lightsaber to be a Jedi.

Reaching out, he felt for the incoming blaster bolts that targeted his comrades and nudged them to the side. He felt something else, too. Something directly above him.

Vah'nya.

She wasn't like Kanan or Ahsoka, wasn't like a Jedi at all. And yet, whenever he extended himself mentally, especially after they'd taken to meditating together on occasion, she always reached back. He wasn't sure if she knew she was doing it, but it didn't stop him from sending his own feelings - relief especially, that she seemed to be alright - her way.

She didn't answer. She could project emotion, any being could, but she couldn’t pointedly target him in the Force. It simply wasn’t like that for her. He shifted focus. Beside him, one of his allies paused, their eyes briefly pausing on the grate that covered the life-support's ventilation shaft over the enemy's head. Chiss could see in the infrared, Ezra knew. If there was someone up in that ductwork, they'd be obvious against the cool backdrop of silver-blue.

They couldn't draw attention to her, and he didn't dare mention that he suspected it was her aloud. Still, he had to do something. He raised his hand to jerk their enemies by their weapons, anything to keep their attention away from what was happening above them.

The first stun bolt nearly grazed his cheek. The coils of overwhelming energy expanded as they traveled over his shoulder, striking one of their assailants in the chin and dropping them with a strangled hiss of contact. More followed, sailing by him and his allies.

Footsteps followed and Ezra picked out at least five pairs of footsteps. “Set weapons to stun,” Called the familiar, authoritative voice and Ezra felt himself relax ever so slightly.

Beside him, one of his allies tipped their head to look behind them with hardly any concern for the rank of the one they spoke to. “Are you crazy, sir? They’re shooting to kill.”

“Hardly,” Thrawn’s voice came again, as Ezra flicked the mechanism on his own blaster to follow Thrawn’s instructions. He grew louder with every word, the sharpness of his command tone leading one of his other allies to toggle the stun setting on their weapon as well. “If the need to take life arises, so be it. Now is not that time. There are enough of us to neutralize this offensive.”

The captain did not retreat into cover when the shots came again. Athletically, he dipped and side-stepped them. They were coming slower now, the enemy forces slightly dismayed by the development and weakened significantly with the first round of the newcomers’ incapacitations, but it didn’t detract from the skill the older Chiss exhibited amongst mostly younger comrades. He raised his blaster again and took out two with pointed stun bolts to the chest before they could lock onto their target’s quickly shifting position.

Ezra stepped out of the hatchway he’d been using as semi-decent cover and took a lower stance, firing in tandem as the rest of their forces fell in. The already accumulated forces stayed low, firing from their positions dotted along the hallway in similar doors and ancillary alcoves like Ezra had been while Thrawn’s people stayed predominantly in line of sight for their enemy, providing heavy rings of cover-fire.

Ezra let Thrawn step in front of him protectively as he dropped his depleted blaster pack and took the one Thrawn indicated on his belt. He recognized the weapon and its backup and had to ask, “Where’s Captain Ivant?”

“His portion of the plan is in motion.”

“Oh good,” Ezra breathed in relief, then added, “Hopefully it’s a better plan than your last one. No offense, but that one was kriffing stupid.”

Squeezing off another shot, then three more in quick succession, Thrawn said, “It is good to know you are uninjured as well.” It looked like he might have made another statement, or possibly asked a question about the status of their remaining troops as the battle began to turn in their favor, but his head swiveled quickly, his expression changing from one of untouchable stoicism to a stern frown.

“What?” Ezra scrambled to his feet. “I don’t like that look,” He said.

“The ship is moving.”

“Moving? How can you tell?”

Thrawn’s concentration was absolute, though he was still able to multitask. “I can tell.” He looked to their comrades. “They’re engaging the Steadfast. We must move quickly to retake the bridge.” He plucked a comm from his belt and brought it to his lips. “Navigator Vah’nya, do you have confirmation?”

The sound of the comm device was muffled and metallic sounding. “Confirmed. Proceed as planned.”

“Very good.” Thrawn stalked up to their defeated enemies. Most were dead, but there were still some who might be saved. Though he did not prefer casualties, Ezra could see the flare of his nostrils, the utter contempt he had for them. “Set up a defensive perimeter to the sides of the blast doors. They will explode outward. Drag any prisoners who are alive out of its direct path.”

The questions came quick, albeit with more respect than the original outburst.

Thrawn confirmed his orders, “The Commander will not seek to harm themself, but those not sealed in with will be considered acceptable collateral. The doors will be rigged to damage any approaching forces in the event that the remaining crew attempted to thwart their plans.”

“I liked the Grysk better when they offed themselves before we got information,” The smart-mouthed woman who had sassed Thrawn earlier said.

“Only the lower-level Grysk do that,” A quieter voice came. Ezra didn’t recognize the man, but judging by his bloodied, disheveled uniform, he’d already been aboard the Compass. “This one wants to live.”

“This one wishes to take this ship as a trophy and display our vulnerabilities, both on a military and personal level,” Thrawn corrected. “Whether he desires to live is irrelevant. Our duty is to regain control of our vessel and neutralize the insurgent threat.” He looked at the group. “Once the doors are blown, you will wait for Navigator Vah’nya’s signal to storm the bridge.”

“What signal?” Another of Ezra’s comrades asked.

“You’ll know,” Thrawn said darkly.

Yes, Ezra supposed they would.

-/

Commander Faro jumped up from her console, already sending the communiqué to Admiral Ar’alani’s datapad and the Steafast’s bridge speakers even as she spoke. “Admiral, I have Captain Ivant.”

“The encryption?”

“It’s secure, ma’am.”

The admiral whirled around from the command walkway to face her. “Send it through, Commander.”

“Sent,” Faro confirmed crisply.

Ar’alani barely heard her, focused on the man aboard her rogue capital ship. “Ivant,” She demanded.

“Admiral. I have Un’hee in custody.”

“And the others?”

“It’s a bloodbath,” He said seriously, voice offset by static. “Captain Thrawn was kept with Un’hee. At last check, the survivors indicated one navigator and Senior Captain Khresh were still alive.” He paused, breathing hard. He’d likely been running, Ar’alani suspected. They were all running out of time, both literally and figuratively, she supposed. “Have you gotten anything from our friends?”

It was a crude but inconspicuous way of asking if House Chaf had provided them with any information. She appreciated his discretion. “It is too soon,” She said tightly, then redirected, “I am more concerned with the field of battle. Your former ship is being brought to bear against mine.” Her annoyance was obvious.

“Captain Thrawn is working on that.”

“Captain Thrawn,” She said carefully. She knew his objective, but refused to satiate her curiosity on the subject. There were more pressing matters to be discussed. “And what are you working on?”

“Leveling the field.”

Scoffing, Ar’alani said, “You sound as though you intend to do something foolish.”

“You might say that,” He supposed. “Can the Steadfast run interference?”

Snappish, she retorted, “You understand what you are asking me to do?” Ivant’s request would put her between a confirmed enemy Commander with his warped mockery of Chiss warriors and a Grysk capital ship that could have even more Chiss with inside knowledge of their ships, their tactics, everything. If the Compass wasn’t brought under control within minutes of Ar’alani turning her back on it, their enemy would know victory.

“I know it’s a risk,” Eli agreed. “But I need a guarantee that our enemies cannot escape. There is security footage that cannot fall into enemy hands. External comms should still be down, but there’s no way to confirm at this point without retaking the bridge. Thrawn will come through with his half of the plan,” He said confidently. “We will disable the Compass by any means necessary.”

Growling out a sigh, Ar’alani turned to her bridge crew. “Helm, take us in,” She demanded of them before speaking to Ivant once more. “If the Compass rams my ship, it will be your head, Eli’van’to.”

“I accept full responsibility,” He confirmed with confidence. He had the presence of mind not to comment that if the Compass got that close, there was little chance any of them were going to make it out of this engagement alive. “Thank you, Admiral.”

“Do not make me regret this,” She said, and ended the transmission. A glance at the tactical made her snarl beneath her breath and look to the helm. “Bring us to full speed,” She urged them. “It won’t do us any good if they’re too fast for us to catch.” Then, to the sensor officers, she commanded, “You will report any fluctuations in the Compass’s readings directly to me.”

The officer flushed, untested and timid, but set his jaw and inclined his head. “Yes, admiral.”

-/

She didn’t like this. She looked down at the scene - what she could see of it, anyway - and it only made things worse. Ke’hala was crying. She could hear the girl’s tiny snuffling sobs interspersed with the sound of wet, strained breaths and knew without any shadow of a doubt that it was Khresh, bloodied and propped precariously against one of the monitoring stations. Taking great care to remain quiet, she began loosening the bolts that kept the access register locked in place.

The bridge was a hub of activity, the Grysk commander standing boldly on the command walkway while meek, out-of-place Chiss carried out orders. Very few of the Chiss here wore CDF uniforms. And even if they did, she swore it felt like a tangible entity sucking the free will from them.

How could they think this was right? They were engaging in open warfare against their own brothers and sisters, slaughtering them openly. Would she and Un’hee be enough to convince them? Vah’nya knew she could kill a Grysk, regardless of their rank. She didn’t care about killing a Grysk. She cared about her people, about making sure this never happened again. About making sure those who thought this was an acceptable practice, a way to make some political statement or another saw that they did not need to enter into the service of an enemy to recognize their full potential.

It was already at hand.

She clenched the bolts in her fist, twisting the final one free. She just needed to move them all to her belt pouch where they wouldn’t make sound and she would be ready when the time came. She could hear the commander snarl over the reports that their forces outside the bridge had been thwarted. She just needed to see the explosive device pressed against the blast doors.

At this angle, it was nearly impossible. Carefully, she shifted in the metal shaft, doing her best to angle herself away from the slotted vent to avoid enemy detection, especially in the infrared. It was no use.

She pushed herself flat against the bottom of the narrow shaft and listened some more to the crew's off-putting chatter. The Steadfast was changing course, effectively trying to cut them off. They recognized the potential for a multi-faceted attack, and wanted to root out the remaining opposition aboard this ship first. Good.

Cautiously, Vah'nya chanced another glance down through the grate, eyeing the commander from behind. Something nagged at her. She was missing something.

Navigator Ke'hala wasn't crying anymore. Vah'nya swung her gaze back to Senior Captain Khresh. She couldn't see more of his face than the curve of his chin, tucked against his chest. But she could see his hands. They were redirecting the crying Navigator's face away from her, and she could see his chin move as he said something she couldn't hear.

There came a dull scrape against the bottom of the ventilation shaft. Ke'hala was not the only one who noticed, Vah'nya realized, as it steadily grew louder. The durasteel was too thick to be penetrated by blaster fire or even the concealed knife she knew the commander wore, but the infrastructure of the ductwork had its own disadvantages.

Most pressing of those disadvantages was the quiet snick and rising beep of a magnetic grenade not far from where she was concealed. The tucked her head beneath her arms and drew her legs up beneath her as the grenade blew. Her ears rang, though it wasn’t nearly as loud as the blood pumping furiously in her ears, warning her of danger.

The warning came too little, too late. There was a thump that she felt through the vibrations of her compromised vent shaft. Then, a large hand wrapped around one of her ankles and yanked.

Vah’nya twisted her body, kicking with her other leg, seeking out her assailant. She heard Navigator Ke’hala let out a strangled cry, turning into a sharp gasp when Vah’nya’s boot met the temple of the Chiss that had pulled her from the blown-out section of ductwork. She lurched sideways, back hitting one of the consoles. She didn’t have a blaster, but she did have something else.

She slammed her hand against the nearest enemy’s thigh, digging her fingers into their grayish coveralls and letting herself feel that white-hot fury. It would be excruciating, she knew. But she’d seen the path the current took, following flesh and bone only from the leg down. It wouldn’t be fatal. They cried out in agony, jolting upright before falling to the ground, making several others nearby reach for their blasters as they twitched and screamed.

It didn’t matter. Vah’nya saw their blows coming with the kind of awareness that, of those among them, only Navigator Ke’hala could fathom. She twisted her torso, ducked, stepped back to miss the assault with a poised grace that left them cursing her.

Good, she thought, taking the holstered weapon from the belt of the client she’d injured. The Grysk was making their way toward her from the other side of the bridge. She met his dark, beady eyes, raised her pilfered blaster, and fired.

[rarestereocats]

Amelia departs on the enemy ship,  working out her payment with them so they can drop her off on the shores of some other port town.  She's to go on a diving expedition and explore a cave for some treasure to pay them back,  so with there still being a day of travel for her until they reach the landmark above said cave,  she gets situated in her quarters and meets her new roommates.  An interesting man with bronze skin and hair that seems to flicker like flames named Anayo and a snake-like lady named Lux.  When they all ask her about why she's in the predicament she's in currently,  she makes up a lie about how we mercilessly killed her boyfriend in front of her and then locked her in a cage with zombies.  You know,  just a typical Friday night for somebody out there.

But anyways,  she's somewhat sad to be leaving us all.  So as one should always do in times of stress,  take it out on your hair and ring in the emo new year.  She has Lux assist her in dying her beautiful,  rainbow hair that I spent a lot of time helping her maintain;  jet black instead so if we ever cross paths with her,  we won't recognize her that well.  After,  she has some poor man's dinner that only rubs in the fact she'll never see us again and makes her miss our darling cook,  Stabby.  Basically,  this entire day is a 90s sitcom montage of her time with us set to Green Day's "Good Riddance" and if this were played in front of a live audience,  this is the part where you're all supposed to obnoxiously go "aaaw" and mail us angry letters for making you sad.

Come the next day,  the enemy ship reaches the landmark and Amelia dives down into the waters and reaches the cave with Lux and Anayo.  Meanwhile,  the rest of us are messes in our own ways.  Owkbanok is busy learning some new spells,  but it's hard when he's entered Mom Friend Mode and is worried sick for our girl.  I'm a little sad cuz I really thought me and Amelia were becoming good buddies,  so now I'm trying to go through everything we have at our disposal to track her down.  TT is also working on tracking her down,  but she's pissed as all hell and wants to stab Amelia for being a traitor and a coward.  With some charts and TT's navigation skills,  we follow the path the enemy ship to a port town a day away,  but when we reach land,  there's no sign of the ship or Amelia anywhere.  We figure they must've dropped her off in the night and moved on,  so we head on down and begin to argue over the fate of our buddy.

TT's convinced she's sold our secrets (what secrets??) to nobles and is gonna use as a scapegoat to save her own her ass,  so she votes we stab her.  Neither me nor Owkbanok wanna go stab happy on Amelia and would honestly like to have her back in the crew,  so after some more arguing,  we come to an agreement.  We'll bring her back on board,  figure out what the hell happened,  and beat her up.  With this solid plan figured out,  I decide it's time to start whipping out some of my more disturbing magic to track her down.  She made a very crucial mistake in leaving her bleeding skeleton,  Romero,  behind when she fled,  so after ripping out his heart;  I use it to cast carrion compass,  which will take us to his leader.  His heart is creepily animated and floats up to lead on,  going right back out to sea,  which wasn't what any of us anticipated or wanted;  but after some complaining,  we file back onto the ship and hit the seas once more.

TT tries to say my pay should be docked for not whipping that spell out from the get-go,  but I was worried it wouldn't work over seas.  I make a point for myself that such magic isn't easy and when everybody who doesn't use magic immediately has an opinion that states otherwise,  most notably TT,  I go ahead and rip out Romero's new heart that he regenerated,  slap it in her hands,  and tell her to give it a go.  She sneaks off to go invisible to try and pantomime this shit,  but Owkbanok easily calls her out and it's finally settled that it is indeed not easy to do and my paycheck is safe...for now.  In the wise words of Celine Dion in a song made famous for a movie everyone pretends to enjoy;  the heart does go on...and leads us to a rock,  which it proceeds to slam into over and over again.

 Amelia's not in sight,  so we take this to mean that she has been tossed away to a watery grave,  but we still need to turn her body in for that reward money.  As I grab the heart and throw it into the ocean,  it dives on down,  so we do the same;  following after it as soon as we pull TT out of a rip tide.  Back to present time where our timelines finally meet up,  Amelia is standing in the cave with her new friends when in a disturbing turn of events,  the heart shoots out of the water and slams into the back of her head.  This understandably unnerves and startles not only Lux and Anayo,  but her as well as she whips around to punch it and then sees the rest of us climbing back onto land.  It's a very awkward and tense reunion,  TT jumping the gun and telling Amelia we're here to arrest her,  but Owkbanok clarifying that isn't the case at all.  After we catch onto too many of her lies,  Amelia finally comes clean and tells us she left cuz she didn't want to go back to her hometown of Carlo Rose or they'd have her killed.

She accidentally killed her father when her magic first manifested during an argument the two of them had.  With Anayo and Lux trying to shove their way into the conversation and our patience wearing thin as we wanna take Amelia and run,  Owkbanok kicks off the fight so we also take off with the treasure they claimed was down here.  While Lux tries to stop the fighting at one point and urges us to make a truce,  we're all stuck in the heat of the moment and soon;  she simply teleports her and Anayo away.  We wanna chase them down,  but we're as injured as they were,  so we head back to the ship to rest up and decide what our next course of action is.  We're not sure what to do about the fact that the lost princess is indeed our crewmate,  so Owkbanok suggests we all just gather some of Amelia's things to turn in and tell the nobles that that's all that's left of her and collect the reward.  It's straightforward enough,  so we move onto the next issue.  Treasure.

Lost in the cave somewhere and waiting for somebody to lay claims to it,  so we decide that Nathan will go down as a "peace offering".  He'll give them false potions of health that are actually acid and tell them that their ship sent him to help them out.  While he does that,  the rest of us will get into position to kill them both.  Another simple plan,  so it should go off without a hitch,  right?  Most of us get into position with no problem,  but as Amelia goes to get ready,  she trips on a rock and yells out;  alerting both Anayo and Lux to our presence and they immediately start wailing on poor Nathan.  Despite the earlier fight going terribly for us,  we turn this one around and with Anayo slain,  Lux races to his side and falls to her knees,  accepting her fate.  With an arrow to the head,  she falls and we do as we do and l o o t  t h a t  s h i t.

It's also apparently show and tell for demented ass spells today as Owkbanok goes and drinks a pint of Anayo's blood to learn a spell from him.  Could've been easier to swallow if he just asked the guy while he was alive,  but you know what?  If a man wants to drink a pint of another man's blood for the pursuit of knowledge,  who are we to fucking judge?  Not one to be shown up like that however,  I go and flay the skin right off of Lux's back because with my magic,  I'm gonna turn her ass into a treasure map.  I assure you,  this is all perfectly normal,  I say as I roll that skin map up and tuck it away in my bag of holding.  Even Amelia,  the literal necromancer,  is horrified by our joint display of the macabre.  Before we leave though,  she disguises Lux's corpse as herself;  flayed skin and all,  just to throw the enemy crew off our trail and discourage them from following us.

Cuz really,  who wants to go after the crew that apparently has blood-sucking half-orcs and tieflings with an affinity for making rugs out of flesh?

[therosewitchcottage]

How They Do...

Oh my oh my oh my, you’re going to learn very quickly, I write how I talk, thanks ADHD!

So I figured this is as good a time as any to talk about my craft/practice/religion.

Oh by the way, Hi I’m your friendly neighbourhood cottage witch that doesn’t live in a cottage, Rose!

Grab a hot drink ( or iced coffee, IYKYK) and let’s chat! Cause I’m dying to make friends and gab.

Before I start to chat your ear off let me start by telling you what I’m currently drinking, (pretend you’re sitting in my dining room and I’m offering you a drink of what I’m drinking, yeah?) I bought this delightfully yummy coffee from work, it’s Salted Caramel and oh boy is it nice~. Funny thing though, it doesn’t get me as worked up on a caffeine kick like some other coffees do. Am I disappointed? Slightly, but oh well.

Okay now on to what I wanted to talk about. My Craft, my practice, my religion.

So if you’ve read my “about me” you’ll remember me telling you I’m a Satanic Witch, and most people in the realm of where we hang out will maybe have a kind of general idea of what that means, but just every witch is different in their practice, not all Satanists practice the same.

So let me roughly define what I mean when I say I’m a Satanic Witch, yeah? Cool.

For me personally, being a Satanic Witch is being a Witch of the Left Hand Path (duh, you know that already, but bare with me), it’s being okay with the shadow, the dark, the down and dirty sh*t we tend to bury and not want to think about, let alone talk about. For me, it’s about learning how to set boundaries, and understand that people do not get a free pass to my niceness, to my friendship, to my love, or my compassion. It’s about learning to cope and move past my trauma, and understand that I am not alone in my struggles.

Side note that will help y'all understand me and my practice a bit more; I struggle with depression, anxiety, and ADHD. I have most of my life and I wasn’t really taught how to navigate life with it, just told I have it and then pushed and pulled along the way. I’m not medicated (though sometimes I wish I was) and until I have a regular, easy to visit, go to family doctor I kind of just have to make it alone (though I will say, hopefully this will change this year, and in the meantime I do have a pretty awesome support system in place). Now I’m not telling you this so you feel bad for me, rather so you know if you struggle with these things, pal you’re not alone. I am telling you this, also, because it’s shaped how I practice my craft. I have a…weak spiritual Wifi connection if you will. Where other practitioners are running on High Speed Fibre Op, I’m running on the carrier pigeon system at worst and dial up at best. This means I don’t necessarily get all the whoo-whoo part of the craft. I have a hard time with meditation, hearing/feeling/seeing anything metaphysical, I can’t sit still in one place for a long time or I get antsy and agitated, and if a Deity, Entity, Spirit, etc wants to get in touch with me, I wish them all the best, cause it’s going to take a LONG time for me to clue into it. So when I say I “work” with a Deity or Entity or Spirit, I don’t actually “work” with them, I pay respect and honour to them, cause for all I know they aren’t reaching out to me, but I want them to be in my space, or on the other hand they are trying to reach me and I can’t seem to remember how to hit the “answer call” button. So this is kind of my “get out of spirituality jail free card” cause I’m never purposefully ignoring anything/anyone trying to reach out to me, I just….have a really hard time getting reception.

So now that you have a little bit of context, hopefully the rest of this post makes more sense.

For me being a Satanic Witch also means that I connect with and utilise Left Hand Deities, such as but not limited to; Hekate, Lilith, Agrat Bat Malat, Lucifer, Persephone, Hades, Naamah, Eisheth Zenunim, Aphrodite (I know you might not think of her as a Left Hand Path Deity but I feel like she is in her own special way), Nemesis, Nyx, etc etc. If you can’t tell I tend to gravitate towards the Greek Pantheon, but I’m not tied down to that one Pantheon specifically, just that I’m most familiar with these Deities. I also connect with a small selection of Demons, and Entities but those are a little more private, so for now those are for me to keep behind lock and key.

The Left Hand path has also taught me to stand up for myself. I’ve always been a little “soft”, sensitive, taking things personally when they weren’t always meant that way, or even when they were meant to hurt me. I was an emotionally delicate kid, I was bullied a lot, and while that got better now that I’m an adult, it left some big scars on my heart and psyche. Scars that I didn’t want to deal with or acknowledge, and now while travelling this path, I’m starting to feel more and more ready to address these things and heal from them. I feel as though a lot of Left Hand Deities get overlooked because many still view them as baneful or “evil”/”bad” and that they can’t possibly be able to help you through your shadows and darkness. But I personally see them as the best possible mentors and guides through this kind of work. They (metaphorically) live in the dark, in the shadow, they see the sh*t we all deal with day-to-day, so who better to guide us then them?

I also see Satanism (at least my brand that is) as a means to venture into the world of Absolute Leftest Politics. I know, I know, don’t talk about politics when you’re just starting to make friends, but really I think that is a silly statement, how are you going to know if you and another person actually vibe if you don’t talk about politics though? Cause, as someone who passionately believes everyone deserves to be taken care of in one way or another, that everyone has the right to exist, that no one should be left without a roof over their head, or food in their stomach, that children shouldn’t bare the load of Adult mistakes, etc I find it absolutely necessary to talk politics when talking about religion, spirituality, and the like. And (I know people say don’t start a sentence with “and '' but they can kiss my behind >>) I absolutely think that while I held my political beliefs before I decided to venture down the Left Hand Path, it definitely cemented my resolve. Lucifer the rebel Angel, Eisheth Zenunim their other half, and Lady of Harlotry both and all others in their realm there for the misfits, the forgotten, the uncared for, the minorities others seem to forget about, how could I not be drawn to them? Sorry I got on a tangent there. I guess what I’m trying to say is that the more I sink into this path, the more it resonates right? So with that resonation I feel more attached to my craft and my practice and the religion that blends them all together.

So now that we kind of got that out of the way (I promise if you have questions I will answer them as best I can, cause I know this is a lot to read but I hope you’re enjoying the chaos so far) let’s talk a little about my ACTUAL practice, cause I’m sure if you’re still reading this you’re probably yelling at the computer “FINALLY!”.

So I mix and blend a few styles of magickal methods together to get what I call, “Rose’s Cottage Witchery”. So let me lay it out to you this way: aesthetically I want you to picture the fantasy of my craft. Light Academia, Cottagecore, Kitchen Witchery, Domestic Goddesses, Shabby Chic, Gothic, Cemeteries, Death Witchery, Baneful Gardens, Lace, Velvet, Leather, Tafida, Knit dresses, Sweaters, Flowy Skirts, Combat boots, Spikes, Blush, Lilac, Mint, Black and Grey scale. Got all that? Okay now the reality, reusable shopping bags that currently hold pretty much everything I have on hand. Piles of books, annotated and written in and by no means are all the books on the occult/magick/witchcraft (cause honestly my romance collection does outweigh my witchy book collection at this point) that I own, an old trunk as my altar at the foot of my bed cause I wasn’t going to put it in storage while my partner and I got back on our feet. It’s not glamorous, it’s not pretty, it’s not even instagram worthy. But, it’s mine, and right now it doesn’t have to be pretty to do its job.

At this current moment in time I’m using magick for a small amount of things to help aid stuff along in my life, like using it to help with waking up in the morning, or getting myself ready for bed at night so I can actually sleep, or being used to help cement the job I am lusting after so HARD! So I’m using magick in practical, physically tangible ways.

Ways I’m pretty sure are nothing new to many of the folks in this community. With things like stirring coffee a specific way, or using certain smelling soaps and lotions or bed sprays, enchanting objects that I wear so I don’t go flying off the edge and giving someone a verbal smackdown, things like that.

I also use my self care as a means to use magick, adding affirmations or incantations, poems, song lyrics, quotes from books I love to help build back the energy or power I lost as I went about my day. I coordinate my nail colours to match intent or if I want to draw certain things to me, or repel things away from me, same with my makeup. But these things aren’t necessarily new to the community, they’re just some of the ways I work my magick.

Specific types of magick I tend to gravitate towards are styles like; candle magick, using crystals, incense, dream magick, and combinations of sacred self care and sympathetic magicks. I tend to use apps to help me with some things and I reference a lot of books for others, but a lot of the time I do what just feels right to me. I think before this post gets any bigger than it currently is, I’ll wrap it up here. If you want to talk more about anything I mentioned or have questions just let me know!