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tc-doherty · 5 months ago

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Book One | Chapter Fourteen

Index | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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The maids escorted Patrice down to the market the next day. Patrice had never seen anything like it. A whole part of the city was used for nothing but shop after shop after shop. Each type of good had its own street. The main streets branched off a circular plaza in the very middle, and the smaller streets of more specialized goods branched off from there.

All of it was laid out to be the most convenient for shoppers, and for the artisans who sold goods there. They entered the market through Iron Street, which on one side branched out into Silver Street, Gold Street, and the other metalworkers, which in turn led into Jeweler Street. On the other side, Iron Street branched off into weapon and armor makers.

"How is this possible?" Patrice asked. "It's so well-planned!"

She could not help but compare it to what she remembered of Dragon's Keep. The castle wasn't the only thing there, there had clearly been a city at one point too. While she couldn't say for sure which parts may have been residential and which parts might have been shops or restaurants, Patrice had played on those grounds all her life and not one section of it was as organized as this. That was a lot more like a maze, with streets and buildings placed haphazardly wherever there was room.

"That's because New Iber isn't a natural city," Maria said. "It was founded by those who fled the old kingdom. By all accounts the capital of Iberia was a disgrace of a city, and so those who fled here decided they would not repeat their ancestors’ designs."

"We take a lot of pride in our city, and our civil engineers," said Elaine. "We've conveniences that Juskans and Serzeks can't even dream of."

Anna said, "As impressive as it is, we're here for a reason. The animal sellers are that way."

Despite the crowded nature of the market, Patrice found the trip much more comfortable than her time so far at the palace. Dressed in a simple kirtle with minimal jewelry, she perfectly matched much of the fashion around her, save for that she still was not wearing a veil or headdress. Her hair was pulled back in a simple braid. But she wasn't the only one. Many foreigners came to the markets here, and some of them were almost as dark of skin and hair as Patrice. In fact, some were even darker. And all of them had different fashions. Finally, she was in a place where almost no one stopped to stare at her.

Once they reached the animal market, things changed.

Dogs, even as she had predicted, didn't like Patrice at all. They got one good whiff of dragon and backed off to the farthest corner of their cages, hackles up and teeth showing. The maids were not discouraged. After all, they told her, dogs were not the only guard animals available. In fact, they weren't even the most common, or the cheapest. They swept past the shops that primarily sold dogs and moved farther down the street.

As the gaggle of women made its way through the market, Patrice heard all about guard geese and hens – favored by the poorest of peasants, of pigs, and of the guard goat that Elaine's cousin's husband's sister had trained.

The maids didn't want to settle for any of those. Prey animals, much like dogs, didn't like Patrice. And geese, Anna explained, tended to be both messy and bad tempered. Not the sort of animal one would choose to live in a suite with them.

But there were other options. For instance, the great hunting cats which thrived in the more remote parts of Runeria. Like wolves, the cats had been bred down over the years. Like wolves, the cats were pack animals. Like dogs, the cats tended to be loyal to their owners, and protective of their 'family'. Although, as Maria explained, they could be rather obstinate and sometimes difficult to train.

Their most important quality, however, was the fact that they seemingly were not afraid of dragons.

Like with Vasya, Patrice didn't really know what to do with the cats. How did one treat animals, especially ones that seemed to like you? Or at least, not dislike you. Some of them held aloof in their crates, but others rubbed against the bars seeking attention. They were still young, not adults yet, but already their protective instincts have been trained and honed enough for sale. Already they were large enough to give an adult human pause.

What had seemed innocuous enough the previous evening suddenly seemed much more questionable. What did Patrice know about other animals? Nothing at all. Not what they were like, not how to care for them. "I don't know…" she said.

The maids wouldn't accept that. After much nagging and debate, she ended up in a small meeting room with a young cat half the size of a horse. His fur was patchy black and white and up close, Patrice could see that he had the same spots as his wild ancestors hidden in the dark patches. She held her hand out to him the way that she had for Vasya and he came right up to her, rubbing against her dress and her fingers, purring loud enough to be heard through the door.

That, it seemed, was that.

The cat came with them, with his own food and supplies, a list of command words, and a harness and leash to bring him back to the palace.

"Really, Lady Patrice," Maria told the bewildered dragon, "it was only a matter of time. Nearly all the gentle ladies have a guard pet staying in their quarters. Why shouldn't you? It might even be good for you."

"I'd prefer a cat to a dog anyway, if I could afford one," Anna said. "They're cleaner. On my salary though, the most I could ever hope to get is a goose. But the cat should protect all of us, if we are in the room."

The seller had taught Patrice how to 'introduce' friends to the cat. He would bond to her most, especially if she were the one feeding him. But they were social animals and he would accept anyone that she did. That was supposedly one of their selling points, as most other animals including some breeds of guard dog could be very selective with who they chose to like.

"You'll have to name him too," Elaine said.

"I don't even know the first thing about human names," said Patrice, "let alone cat names."

"Really, Lady Patrice," Anna said, "it's not nearly so complicated as you want to make it."

Patrice shook her head. She didn't know how to explain to them how important names were to dragons. If she was to be in charge of this creature, then she would not treat it with any less respect than she expected from others.

Patrice attempted to form an acquaintance with the strange young animal as the maids attempted to get her ready for the feast that night. They made last-minute adjustments to her dress for the feast – another picture of emerald and sapphire but in silk this time, to her jewelry, to her hair – once again worn in a snood, and Patrice put up with it all.

It seemed far too much bother to her, but they were the ones who had been working so hard to provide her with what they considered an appropriate wardrobe. Dragons didn't complain about the type of prey they ate, if they hadn't flown the hunt. Patrice tried to apply the same logic here. At least they tried to keep things in line with what she wanted, a fact that probably also made their lives a great deal easier.

She couldn't truly argue about the cat either. It would be nice to know something was guarding her things, considering how many things she now had. Being human came with a great many possessions, a fact she had not been prepared for. She certainly couldn't be expected to keep track of it all.

Although she really would've been fine with one or two practical outfits and little else, that didn't fit the rules here and she was trying to play by their rules. So, she now had possessions. So, she now had a cat to look after them. Human life certainly was strange.

The day was so busy that Patrice only had an hour to herself before Felisjyta showed up to escort her to dinner.

Her eyes sparkled when she saw Patrice. "I think my colors suit you very well," the knight teased. "You look wonderful, as always."

Felisjyta wore a similar outfit as to the last feast, only slightly different embroidery showed them to be unique pieces of clothing. It was a look that suited her. "And you look very handsome," Patrice teased back. But their conversation was cut short when Patrice had to 'introduce' Felisjyta to the cat, and the cat to her. Although it was a relatively short interruption, they didn't resume their conversation after. Felisjyta merely offered Patrice her arm and Patrice took it. Then it was off to the feast.

This time, entry was easier. People did look up from their seats, but Patrice was no longer so exciting and they returned to their own conversations with due haste. Hundreds of snippets of conversation whizzed past her ears. Patrice heard certain words repeated again and again, words such as 'adultery', 'disgrace', 'guards', and the name of a count she was not familiar with.

Patrice smiled slightly. Some other poor fool had taken her place as the center of court gossip, at least for the time being.

Although, she could not smile for long. One of these people must've been in possession of her mother's dragon skin, but who? Although she scoured people's faces while she ate servings of some of the milder dishes, she could not see anybody paying much attention to her or acting particularly suspicious. She supposed she would just have to continue to pay attention. She could not afford to dismiss humans as she had initially. So Patrice ate, and watched, and waited – eagerly, she could admit – for the dancing.

Rothert, Johan, and Petrich all came up to try and claim Patrice for a dance almost immediately. She glanced at Felisjyta, who shook her head.

"Dancing is fun and all," said Felisjyta, "but I'd like to see some of the other amusements."

This Summertide festival had plenty. Unlike the previous feast, there was more to do than just food and dancing. There were games and small contests set up in the gardens – things that Patrice also wanted to try. There would also be a bonfire at midnight, which had some traditional purpose in ending the season. But for now, she would dance.

"Four isn't such a bad number," she said, offering her hand to Rothert.

"Indeed not, my Lady Dragon," he said.

And so the four of them entered a round together. It did not take long for the mood to turn serious.

Rothert said, "Errys told us about your cloak being stolen, and how it puts you in a precarious position."

Patrice did not fail to notice how he said 'your'. So Errys had kept her truth of the matter hidden, as Patrice had requested. "It was something of a shock for me," she said. "And it will likely lead to trouble down the line."

Johan seamlessly picked up the conversation. "Rothert and I are behind you on this," he said. "We aren't attending summer court, but we are set to attend many of the parties and events being held. We’ll do a little poking around, and see if we can find out who stole it."

Petrich had something to say as well. "I also heard what happened, Lady Dragon,” he said. "It is extremely troubling. All Serzeks are outraged by this disrespect. So I would also like to offer my assistance."

Patrice looked between them for a full minute before she spoke. "Thank you," she said, finally. "I did not think-"

"To ask us for help?" Rothert asked. "Or expect it? Or even to let us know something was wrong?"

"I-"

Johan gave her a gentle smile. "Humans take care of each other. Knights even more so. I know dragons are more solitary, but you no longer have to face everything alone."

"It may take me a while to believe it," she told him.

Petrich looked at her, his gaze solemn. "You must believe, Lady Dragon, that there are those who only have your best interest at heart."

Johan and Rothert eagerly agreed with this assessment, but shortly after Johan changed the subject matter. After all, as he said, this was no evening to be dwelling on dark things.

She finished the round dance in high spirits, all things considered, and headed to the gardens in search of people and amusements.

She found both.

In one grove, she found a game where people silently acted things out and others tried to correctly guess what they were doing. That seemed to be a great favorite and she watched for some time before moving on. Another three groves were devoted to different card games, none of which Patrice knew how to play. A long flat stretch of trimmed grass had been taken over by some game involving small hoops, balls, and clubs, which she could not make heads or tails of. Yet another small grove showed a minor mage doing tricks for an audience.

Patrice had never seen magic performed before, so she paused to watch. The mage created fire from nothing, which danced in his bare hands without burning. He coaxed a tiny seed to grow and bloom into a full rose, levitated small objects, and guessed the thoughts of others. Patrice clapped politely for each display, however none of those things matched the stories of wild and powerful magic her mother had told her, and she quickly moved on.

She found Felisjyta and Errys involved in a competition with a group of knights at the archery range, a competition which involved not only bows and arrows but also a great quantity of wine. Patrice stopped to watch that too. The competition went by rounds. Any archer who hit the target made it to the next round, but they also had to drain another glass of wine before they could shoot again.

"Patrice!" Felisjyta said when she finished her current round. "You get tired of dancing already?"

"I just wanted to see what else there was to do. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Oh, immensely," Felisjyta said. "Errys and I found one another and decided to give it a go. Before long all these other morons joined us at it and now here we are!"

"What are you competing for?" Patrice asked.

"Who knows? Maybe a kiss from a beautiful woman if anyone's willing to offer," the knight replied with a wink. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed, though from the activity, the alcohol, or both Patrice couldn't tell. Patrice didn't know how to respond to that, so she said nothing. Felisjyta laughed as she accepted a glass of wine that was handed to her, and drained it in a single drink. "We're not competing for anything, we're just having fun. I'm sure I'll regret it tomorrow but I'm too far in to back out now."

All the spectators cheered as a clearly inebriated knight managed to hit the center of the target, more by luck than anything else. He cheered too, and accepted his glass of wine with great ceremony.

Errys joined them as she waited for her next turn.

"You seem to be doing well enough," said Patrice. Compared to the behavior of the other knights, including Felisjyta, Errys seemed to be her normal reserved self.

"It's only wine," Errys said dryly. "Compared to what I drink at home, this may as well be water. Still, it won't be so easy if we have to go on much longer. I can hold my alcohol but even I have limits."

The two knights left at the same time to take their places in a line that still held eight other knights. Patrice watched for a few more rounds, but the knights held on surprisingly well. But why wouldn't they? From what Patrice understood of knights, they trained rough. Trained to fight sick, injured, drugged, or half dead, why should they not be able to fire arrows drunk? When there were still seven knights left she wandered away from that game too, even further into the garden.

There were other games farther out, even more things that she didn't know how to play. In the end, Patrice turned around and walked back through the crowds to the ballroom. She did not go alone.

The Countess Elizabet saw her, and fell into step beside her. "You're really beginning to make a name for yourself, my dear."

"I suppose," Patrice said. "I'm simply trying to be more active."

"Well you have interesting choices in friends. A Serzek, a bastard, a couple of clowns…that won't serve you too well in the future."

Patrice growled. "Thank you for your consideration, but I do believe I'm capable of making my own friends."

The countess tittered. "Most unfortunate, being burgled. The right friends might be able to prevent such things in the future," she said. "Well, you know I have an interest in guiding the young onto the right path. If things turn out badly, you may always turn to me for help."

Patrice had a strong desire to snap at her, but she turned and walked off to join another group of revelers before Patrice could say anything at all. She watched the countess leave, and made a mental note to tell Johan, Rothert, and Petrich to investigate her. She did not like the woman, or the knight who had fought for her in the tournament for that matter. Then Patrice shook her head and continued to the ballroom.

Index | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#writeblr #writing #tc's writing #dragon's daughter #femslash #lgbt fantasy #queer fantasy #fantasy novels #authors on tumblr

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clever-feathers-clan · 5 months ago

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.... This is the story of our+ life. You have no idea, especially if you're allistic.

If you're allistic, this might give you an idea of what we autistic people have to deal with constantly. It's.. not fun. And all the assumptions of our intelligence being lower than most allistic's? Just because it takes longer for us to learn to mask or learn things outside of our special interests, doesn't make us dumb or children. It makes us different than you, but that doesn't automatically mean allistics should disrespect or otherwise infantalize us.

My parents have and had this view for as long as I can remember. It's like every time I speak I'm either this evil, ignorant buffoon, or I'm a wittle tiny child who doesn't know any better. There's no in between. :/ And generally, it's the former more often than the latter.

More personal reflections under the cut. (tw for child molestation, traumatic memories, and child abuse and disrespect.)

"When will people take me seriously?!" -Juskan

A long time ago, Jaden had fled our+ body, after our+ brother Adam died when we were seven years old and Thomas, our other older brother who was closest to him, subsequently left.

Home was no longer that. It was a place to live, not a Home. Not only that, but the body's father was nearly never there. On the weekends, he had homework to do, and on weekdays he was never there until long after our+ outer world brother and we+ were in bed.

On one fateful day that Jaden would never forget.. Our+ dad had taken us up the hilly mountain in front of our+ house. Ben was there too, but he was only 5, and was much smaller than us+ at the time.

When we got to the top of the high hill, they swung on the swings in the playground for a while, then sat down under the top of the slide in my light blue with pink roses summer dress. Dad was reading something sleepily. It was likely homework, and he was nearly asleep on the bench that he sat on.

At this point, our+ memory morphs to something.. grotesque and alarming. Please, don't read further if you're not in a good mindspace for reading about child molestation. Skip to the ending paragraph if you need to.

Ben was far away, chasing butterflies and grasshoppers in the field nearby like the sweet spring child he was. Dad was on a bench, eyes closed and he might as well have been deaf too, for how he was.. unable to wake to the sound of their+ scream. We+ screamed for him. Over and over. We+ were only seven, but we+ had a pair of lungs on us+. He was just too tired to register that Jaden was in trouble. "Dad!! DADDDD!! HELLP!! NNGH! Go away!! DAAADD!"

The two older male teenagers, 16 and 17, towered over them, pushed us+ down, and one held our+ arms while the other started to pull the body's panties down, snaking his hands up our+ dress. Jaden.. was mortified when he flipped the body's dress up, and exposed our+ panties to the air. I was tiny for a seven year old, and couldn't hope to fight, but fight I did. I kicked- he just held my legs with one large hand, holding my ankles together.. and continued to pull on my underwear.

He got it down.. but just before he could lean in for a lick or do anything else, our+ Dad finally came to the rescue, chasing the boys away and helping my shaking form pull my underwear back up and lower my dress back down. Juskan wanted to leave. Dad argued that Ben was having a good time still. Juskan wasn't having any of it. Once we+ got firm legs under ourself+ again, Juskan marched us+ in the direction of home, and Dad was forced to tell a clueless Ben to come and follow Juskan.

During the time that Jaden was recovering, Juskan took over. Jaden couldn't handle being in that life anymore. This assuming of the fact that the body was weak enough to take advantage of, that is. Jaden had been bullied over and over at school, being teased for being Autistic and taking most everything literally, and being interested in dogs, they called them a weak bitch more often than not. Of course, doing quadrobics and barking like a dog during recess didn't exactly help that interpretation, but like- being called that, over and over, did not help their mental nor physical health in the least. Bruises abounded most days, from being pushed, or punched, or slapped, hard. The last one often came from their parents, especially their outer world mom.

Their ow mom would misinterpret Jaden's literal, flat tone for disinterest or rudeness more often than not, and that would result in more slapping.

By the time this molestation happened, Jaden was.. done with everything. Their soul literally left their body, and Juskan, a stronger, more stubborn soul, took their place.

That's how our+ plurality started. You could say it was traumagenic in nature, but we+ don't believe that our+ headmate spirits were or are an already established part of our psyche, so cosmagenic and stressgenic is likely more accurate.

The quote of Juskan's comes not long after that. Juskan went to therapy after walking to the car with our+ father and having to ask our+ own name- all our+ memories were wiped from seven years old onwards because of that abuse, and Jaden taking all our+ memories with them. Not only that, but we've found that whenever a new headmate comes in from outside when not teleporting, they lose all of their own memories as well, and God or a Prophet has to give them back. Juskan was placed in the headspace of this body by our+ Guardian Angel Hadiyah and watched, making sure that the body doesn't die before our+ time. Juskan's twin was also placed with them as a form of soul protection, a divine Old Norse being named Ingvar. Ingvar was their protector up until our+ body turned 16, at which point Ing was taken away and nearly killed by demons, and in the confusion, Kalila was formed as a synform and internal protector. Juskan didn't know if she was another demon or if she was something else, so about three years later (at age 19) Juskan had their parents do an exorcism- which, seeing as Kalila was part of their consciousness as a thoughtform, just succeeded in making her leave and form a new thoughtform-specific layer in the headspace to gain space from their parents. Avern Korvo later was formed as a companion synform to Kalila, also part of Juskan's consciousness.

Back to the original point- Basically, in therapy, their words were never taken seriously- to the point that it hurt our+ mental health and trust of therapists, as well as trust of our+ mother. Our+ trust of our+ father was never there, and it was the one thing Juskan always wanted. They never formed it... Even and up until he moved out after their soul ego died. He was physically abusive and mentally unwell besides being mentally checked out, unable to connect to anyone in the later years of our+ life..

By the point that Juskan ego died, we+ had met our+ partner system and... that whole demonic war had happened as foretold by Juskan's previous life as a Prophet of the Prophecies of God- specifically, the very same Juska Odindottir that had foretold the end of the world (Ragnarok), which had the added effects of having Fenrir locked up and Loki Farbautison (who goes by Astvar Leikrmar Odinson now) banished as a result. But.. that's a story for another post. Our+ ultimate point was that people don't take autistic people seriously- and it hurts. Also that keeping trauma bottled inside isn't healthy, and that talking about it and experiences that aren't as pleasant to talk about is.. important. Always ask for permission to talk about trauma before giving detail or at least give proper warning to people so they can choose to engage like we+ have done with this post, as other beings may not be in a frame of mind to engage productively, and you may end up inadvertently causing more trauma flashbacks or triggering others if you're not careful. As always, share responsibly! Thanks for reading this far, and see you in part two!

-Lux the Oonion 🪽🐦 and a 🌫️ Blurry Pluran

When you're autistic, it's impossible to miss how much society normalizes child abuse.

I could dedicate my entire life to studying how to interact with people and I'd still never master the social skills that young children are expected to have on command.

Say the wrong thing? That's disrespectful and you're punished. And you don't even have to actually say anything wrong. Pretty much anything you say can be considered "giving lip" if your parent wants some excuse to punish you. But if you say nothing, then you get punished for ignoring. You also have to calculate your response to their mind game quickly because taking too long to respond is considered ignoring. Also, if you're being wrongly accused of something, saying nothing is considered a confession. And even if you somehow manage to say exactly what your parent wants in exactly the correct tone, they'll still punish you for "sarcasm" or "not really meaning it".

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sosuperawesome · 6 years ago

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Turtle Figurines

Juskan Creations on Etsy

See our #Etsy or #Figurines tags

#figurines #turtle #watermelon #crafts #art #sculpture #handmade #etsy

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anomalocaris-lesbian · 7 years ago

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Writing Thing (Thalkan Falls): Part Two

Here goes... chapter two of my writing thing that I posted last week. @iamthebonecarver�� thank you for all your encouragement!! I am in desperate need of feedback so if you do read this I would greatly appreciate hearing your thoughts. (And the title of my thing is Thalkan Falls...) Previous Chapters: Chapter One Thanks to anyone who reads this!

Pronunciation Guide:

Ruthos Imminar: ruhth-oss imm-in-arr Oakru Silverwing: ohk-rue sihl-ver-wihng Arachaan Molteus: ah-ruh-k-ah-n mohlt-ee-uss Shiver Kale: shih-ver kayl Sarn Tishlar: sahn tihsh-larr Karoka Tikanson: kah-ro-kah tik-ann-suhn Iaun: awn Ekalis: ee-kay-liss Æachus: Ay-kihss/Ee-kihss Eakarth: ee-ah-kahth Velorun: vell-uh-ruhn Auchon: aw-kohn Thalkan: thuhl-kuhn Juska/Juskan: Juhs-kah/Yuhs-kah

Chapter Two (Ruthos)

Ruthos was lounging on an ale-stained wooden stool on the first floor of the inn when Karoka and Arachaan came in, soaked through and Arachaan, strangely, in human form. She was still recognisable, however; no one else walked with such a proud, self-assured strut. Ruthos signalled to the withered man behind the bar for another ale, and took a deep swig from his mug. The others were scattered around: Sym, Oakru’s snow leopard, was lounging on the tasteful rug by the fire, purring quietly, and Oakru sat by him, stroking him pensively. Karoka was now talking quietly to Arachaan on a large sofa, dripping all over it, and Sarn was out… somewhere. Ruthos hadn’t wanted to ask. Shiver was sat in an armchair across the room, gazing into the fire with dark intensity. Ruthos didn’t mind admitting that he was afraid of Shiver; they probably all were. Ruthos had long suspected that Shiver was capable of killing them all, Sarn included, if he wished. He was just glad that Shiver was on their side.

He was looking forward to arriving in Oratheon. He’d never been, and this sounded like a particularly interesting mission. He fingered the blade of his axe from where it was propped up on his stool. Everyone seemed on edge, and that put him on edge. Ruthos had always been sensitive to other people’s emotions. His father had said “knowing what people are feeling is an apt gift for someone who cares so much,”. Of course, that was before he died. Something was going to go wrong on this mission, Ruthos just knew it. It resonated in his bones, perhaps some ancient magic from his Lakongan ancestors. Disturbing the quiet room, Sarn pulled open the creaking door, doffing his coat in a smooth movement, and letting a gust of winter air into the inn. He then strode purposefully over to Ruthos and sat beside him, interrupting his musings. “Ruthos, I need to ask you a favour.” He said immediately.

Ruthos leaned in. “Yes?” Usually, when Sarn needed a favour, it was serious.

“The moment we arrive in Aeachus, I need you to head North. There’s a plant, a medicinal herb, that grows in the jungle. I need you to get it for me. Can you do that?”

Ruthos nodded. “Of course, but why–”

Sarn cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Thank you.” And he stood up, walked over to the door leading to the rooms, and went in without another word.

Arachaan slid up next to Ruthos, moving fluidly, as always. “Soooo what was that about?”

Ruthos, who had always been good at reading Sarn, didn’t think he would want the others knowing of his plan. Especially if he wouldn’t even tell Ruthos why he wanted him to complete the task. “Nothing.” He said, not meeting the genie’s eyes. It was off putting to see her as a human woman.

“Are you surrrrre?” Crooned Arachaan, nudging his shoulder. “Looked like there was some dirty talk going on to me.”

“It’s not–” Ruthos sighed and shook his head. “It’s none of your business is what it is.”

Arachaan tossed her dark hair. “Suit yourself.” And with that, she padded across the room and sprawled in front of the fire, next to Sym, who growled sleepily but didn’t attempt to move her. Ruthos sighed again. It felt like a betrayal, keeping something from the rest of the Order. It was so like Sarn, to do something without telling them. But why the herb? What did Sarn know? Ruthos stared into his drink. It was best not to think about it. If Sarn did know something, and he hadn’t told Ruthos, then it was probably a good thing he didn’t know. But it still hurt.

After around an hour of drinking watery ale and chatting with Karoka, who came to sit with him after Arachaan left, Ruthos heard movement outside, like the scraping of small claws, and whispered voices. He motioned to Karoka, and the daemon drew Oathbreaker, the gleaming blade shining in the firelight. They moved silently to the door, and Ruthos kicked it open. Several small, grey-skinned creatures scattered, squealing. “Gremlins,” Ruthos said grimly. “If they’re here, goblins will be soon.”

Karoka dashed inside, and Ruthos heard him getting the others as he tightened his grip on his cold axe. He heard a tired “What’s going on?” from Arachaan as Karoka roused her, and a confused mutter from the ancient innkeeper. In just a few brief minutes, they were all standing outside the inn, weapons drawn and magic ready. The night was silent. “Wait…” Sarn advised.

Sure enough, skittering footsteps could be heard on the nearby rooftops. Accompanying them were whispers, goblin unmistakably. A shadow moved on the slates of a building across the street and Arachaan jumped, a bright jet of flame incinerating the poor cat. Ruthos looked at her in disbelief.

“What?” She said, looking sheepish. “I thought it was–” But before she could finish, goblins leapt from the roof.

There had to be at least fifty of them, Ruthos thought as he swung his axe. His swing cleaved through goblins like a knife through hot butter, killing at least three. Not two meters away, Karoka spun, his sword singing as it cut through goblins, the swinging blades on his coattails protecting his back. Ruthos couldn’t see Arachaan, though he did see bursts of fire somewhere off to his left. If only he could use his powers without damaging the surrounding buildings, maybe the fight would be over much sooner. Oakru soared overhead, slashing at goblins as he passed above them, Sym following close behind on the cobbles, finishing off any that survived. A shrieking goblin got past Ruthos’ spinning axe guard while he was distracted, and managed to get a nasty slice in before Ruthos kicked it away with a heavy boot. He grunted in pain. Definitely rusty, he decided. He’d been out of the fight for too long, not training. “Need a hand?” Sarn’s voice cut through the noises of battle, and Ruthos saw him leap, magic flaring from his staff, sword swinging. Ruthos shook his head, breathing hard. Sarn landed next to him and twirled his sword, raising his eyebrow. “A little out of practice?” He chuckled.

“Not at all,” Ruthos panted. “Just warming up.”

“Suit yourself.” Sarn shrugged, and sent an unseen force through several goblins in a row, sending them flying.

Combat was overrated, Ruthos decided, twirling his axe above his head. The goblins were certainly thinning. He could see all of the others now, each finishing off the stragglers. Shiver, in particular, was amazing to watch. He didn’t lift a finger as his enemies fell around him. Shiver had told him once that he saw the minds of others as a candle flame––weak, sputtering–and that it was easy to reach out and extinguish the flame. Ruthos watched as the light went out of the goblins’ eyes, and they fell limp to the hard cobbles. The last of the goblins scattered, fearful now that they had lost their numbers. Ruthos, panting hard, glanced over at the others. Karoka spat distastefully, brushing his cloak. “Ugh. Goblins.” He said, inspecting his coattail blades. Ruthos grimaced, lifting his shirt to reveal a long, deep gash. “I’ll get it,” Oakru said as he noticed the injury, striding over. He placed his gauntleted hands on the wound. Ruthos winced. There was a brief flash of brilliant light, and when Oakru removed his hands, the wound was gone. Ruthos murmured his thanks, clapping Oakru on the shoulder.

“That’s all of them,” Sarn said, cleaning his sword with his coat.

“How can you be sure?” Arachaan asked. She was completely covered in soot, Ruthos noticed.

“I just am,” Sarn said confidently, and strode inside, sheathing his sword. Sarn’s eyes, which had turned a fiery amber in the fight, now faded back to a dull grey. That meant something was wrong. Ruthos watched as Sarn turned and walked silently inside the inn.

“What are goblins doing this deep in Galthan, anyway?” Oakru said, voicing what they were all thinking. Ruthos murmured in agreement, then followed after Sarn, ignoring the faces of a few confused homeowners on the second floor across the street, and went upstairs to his room.

Ruthos was sat on his cheap straw mattress untying his boots. He was worried about Sarn. A moment ago, in the midst of combat with those goblins, Sarn was his old self: laughing, making jokes, generally enjoying himself. But before that, and when they went inside… something was weighing on him. Perhaps it had something to do with the herb he had asked Ruthos to collect. He should go and speak to his friend, Ruthos decided, standing up. It was the least he could do. He pushed open his door and moved quietly down the hall, so as not to disturb anyone who was sleeping. When he reached Sarn’s door, at the end of the hallway, he knocked quietly. Tap, tap tap, tap. The knock they had used since their first adventure together. Ruthos heard Sarn’s tired voice from inside. “Come in,” Ruthos entered, avoiding tripping on Sarn’s sword, staff and armour which were discarded by the door, still spattered with goblin blood. Sarn was sitting on his bed, and he looked up as Ruthos walked in. His sea-grey eyes were wide, and Ruthos thought that looked like grief on his face. “What’s bothering you?” He asked, sitting beside Sarn.

“It’s nothing,” Sarn said.

“You can trust me,” Ruthos said, looking into Sarn’s eyes. “You can tell me–”

“I can’t,” Sarn cut him off, looking away. “There are reasons, Ruthos. You wouldn’t understand. You can’t understand.”

Ruthos straightened. “I’ve known you longer than anyone,” Sarn’s eyes flashed stormy grey––with sadness or anger, Ruthos didn’t know. “And even for you, that's cold. I’m just trying to help. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stood and walked out without looking back..

When Ruthos awoke, it was freezing. He shivered and lay there for a moment, trying not to think about last night. He sighed, bracing himself for the cold, then heaving his stiff body out of bed and dressing quickly and efficiently before heading downstairs. Everyone but Arachaan was there, and Karoka was still eating breakfast. “Arachaan up yet?” Oakru asked by way of greeting, obviously impatient to leave. Ruthos shook his head.

“Like a cat, that one,” Oakru said, almost to himself, shifting his wings slightly against the wall. Karoka nodded in agreement with a mouthful of sausage. Sarn was standing by the door, grey eyes gleaming, fully dressed in his scarred armour and a heavy coat. “It’s going to be very cold today,” He said, noticing Ruthos look. No mention of last night, no apologetic glance. It upset Ruthos more than it should have; it was Sarn after all, and he wasn’t the type to apologise. Ruthos shook it from his mind. He couldn’t be distracted today. “Where to, then?” He asked, just to think of something else. Sarn stared out the window into the empty, cold street. “We take a ship to Eluriel, an island of Lothendian. It’s a long way.” That was an understatement, Ruthos thought. The sail to the halfway point between Eakarth and Æachus was at least a month, maybe longer. “It will be fast, though,” Sarn said, a glimmer of his usual mirth in his eyes. “I’ve procured a rather special ship.”

The group walked down to the docks, chattering idly. They moved quickly; the air was crisp and icy.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I hate the cold?” Oakru complained. He gestured to the silver chestplate he was wearing with a gauntleted hand. “This armour gets really chilly.”

“I’d imagine,” Arachaan smirked, still in her human form to avoid unwanted attention. “That’s why I prefer to dispense with armour. And clothes.”

Sarn shook his head. “You’re both mad. I’d stick with leathers and chain any day.” He did look warmer than everyone else, Ruthos thought, in his padded leather tunic, large boots and simple chestplate.

They soon reached one of Galthan’s smaller docking bays, a small part of sea enclosed by stone walls, with an iron portcullis over the exit. There was a single boat in the port. They stopped and stared. Ruthos looked over at Sarn, who leapt into the battered, tiny boat, barely big enough for the six of them, plus Sym. “Um, Sarn?” Karoka said. “What about supplies? Food, water, clothes… there’s no room!”

“It’ll do,” Sarn said, a twinkle in his eye. “All aboard.”

“There isn’t even any oars!” Karoka complained.

Ruthos tried to meet Sarn’s eyes, but Sarn looked away. Ruthos stepped from the wet stone steps into the wooden boat. It creaked under his weight, and Karoka winced. Shiver smirked, and Arachaan took a step back. “Not for me, thanks,” she said, shaking her head. “I prefer to keep dry. I’ll make my own way to… wherever we are going.”

“Not a chance,” Oakru said, and shoved her into the boat, despite her yelps of protest. He stepped in gracefully after her, carefully folding his majestic wings against his back. When everyone was crammed onto the small benches, Sarn tapped the helm. “Let’s go.” Suddenly, previously invisible symbols carved all over the sides of the ship glowed blue. Shiver grinned, and Sarn placed his hand on a large symbol. The boat shot forward, almost hitting the portcullis before Sarn halted it. “Open that for us, Oakru.” He said, and Oakru raised his palms. White light threaded itself around the ropes holding the iron bars, and pulled, lifting the gate out of the water and allowing the boat to speed forward.

The boat moved extremely fast. The wind was so strong that it was all Ruthos could do to avoid being hurled into the choppy indigo sea. Salty spray was flung into all of their eyes and faces, but it was obvious everyone was enjoying the ride. At this rate, Ruthos thought, they would be at Eluriel before the next morning. Karoka yelled something that was lost to the roaring wind, then was sick over the side of the boat. Ruthos couldn’t help his laugh. Even Sarn was smiling a little, though his eyes were still pale grey, betraying his true emotions. Ruthos felt several large drops of water land on his braided hair. Rain. Within minutes, they were all absolutely soaked as driving, torrential rain poured down on them. Ruthos had to bail out some of the water, while Sarn knelt at the head of the boat, still steering using the runes and staring unflinchingly at the dark horizon.

They must have been at sea for hours, Ruthos thought. The rain hadn’t let up, and as a result, all of their clothes were completely sodden. Sarn stayed kneeling, still gazing pensively at the now dark sky and the sea. He must be stiff and tired, Ruthos realised. He would have offered to take over for a while, but after last night… maybe Sarn wanted to be tired and sore, as a distraction to whatever was clearly bothering him. Looking around, Ruthos could see that Sym and Arachaan were curled up together, asleep. How they could manage that in this weather, he couldn’t even fathom. Oakru had his wings folded on his back, covered with a large cloak that he had to hold to keep it from flying off. He looked disgruntled, to say the least. Karoka was sitting at the back, every so often leaning over the side to be sick again. Poor guy. Ruthos pulled his coat over his face to shield himself from the rain, and drifted into a restless, uneasy sleep.

He was jerked awake when the boat knocked gently against the sturdy wood of a jetty. It was still dark and still raining, but it looked like the sun might be rising in the east. Ruthos sat up, rubbing his eyes and pushing his wet hair out of his face. Sarn had leapt out of the boat and onto the jetty and was standing ready to tie it up, rope in hand. He leaned down to help Oakru step out of the boat, and looked as if he was about to extend a hand to help Ruthos, then thought better of it. Ruthos grabbed onto a large post that was part of the dock, and heaved himself up. Karoka stood blearily behind him, swaying slightly. He had been terribly seasick the whole way, and Ruthos didn’t think he looked too good now either. Sym stretched, and bounded onto the dock, fur dripping. Once everyone was out of the boat, Sarn tied it on to the post. He brushed his hair out of his face. “Look sharp,” He advised, gesturing at the hill in front of them. Sure enough, several armoured men were coming towards them down the muddy path, wearing cloaks to protect themselves from the heavy rain. Sarn walked to greet them, Ruthos and Oakru close behind. The shortish man in front, who was wearing armour decorated with gold trimming and had a greatsword across his back, stepped up, and met Sarn in a shoulder cross. “It’s good to see you made it in one piece,” The man said in a thick Juskan accent, removing his helmet.

“Iaun, it’s good to see you,” Sarn said. “I take it you and your men are prepared?”

Iaun nodded. “All set to leave tomorrow, after you’ve had time to rest.”

“Good man. Everyone, meet Iaun. He’s the Captain of the Order’s new militia and guard.”

“Militia?” Ruthos had to ask. “Why do we need militia?” Oakru nodded his agreement, looking at Sarn.

“Because, Ruthos, some of these missions are getting to be too much for the six of us alone. And who is to protect the headquarters when we are away? Besides, I need my scouts. And it can’t hurt to have a few extra hands.”

“I suppose,” Ruthos said. Then, “It’s nice to meet you Iaun.”

“Follow me, then,” Iaun said, turning around. “I’ll show you where we are staying.”

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tc-doherty · 7 months ago

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Book One | Chapter Eleven

Index | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tag list: @bloodlessheirbyjacques @magefaery @did-i-do-this-write @marrowwife

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@unclear-contributions @talesfromtheunknowable @guessillcallitart @flowerprose

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But it didn't end up only being the four of them. To her surprise Errys and Petrich saw them and joined in, along with Karles and another noble lady she had not been introduced to. But this dance required very little singing, and a great deal of pairing off before separating and pairing off with someone else, and so Patrice found herself unexpectedly in the middle of several conversations at once.

Johan said to her, "All we mean to do is offer you our hand in friendship, Lady Dragon. Now that you're interacting with the court, we finally have a chance to do so."

As the two of them stepped careful circles around each other, Patrice responded. "I don't understand why you should want any such thing."

"Humans are sociable, we enjoy making new friends." He grinned. "We might like it especially when the potential friend in question is unusual and intriguing. We're also very curious, you know. Horrible busybodies."

Patrice could hardly argue with that!

When she came round to pair off with Rothert, she couldn't help but ask "Did you really throw your jousting match so that Johan could advance? You were fighting for the princess, so I'm sure that doesn't reflect well on her."

He laughed. "She already knew I wouldn't win. We are cousins, you know."

Patrice looked at him doubtfully. He didn't look anything like the royal family.

“My father is the king-consort’s brother, who married a Juskan noble,” he explained. “Johan’s father is the queen’s brother. Although we initially grew up at our family estates, once we became squires we moved into the palace here with our royal cousins."

"Then Dame Errys is also your cousin?"

He nodded. "That's true, but we don't know her particularly well. Never met her before this tournament."

The next handoff brought her to the side of the woman in question.

"I have to thank you," Errys said as they danced. "You being here has made it so that I'm not the center of attention, and for that I'm truly grateful. Things could be awkward otherwise."

"Oh, with your family?"

"So to speak." Errys swung her around before speaking again. "I never do less than my best of course, but I have to admit I didn't really expect to win the tournament, certainly never planned on coming face-to-face with any of my estranged family members. I have no idea what to say to them."

"That makes two of us."

Errys only laughed.

The next turn brought her to Sir Karles who was polite though distant, and then to his lady who – seemingly due to shyness – did not say a single word. She did not even take part in a few places that required singing, though she must've certainly known the words. And then she found herself paired up with Petrich.

Patrice wasn't exactly small, she was taller than all of the women she'd met so far, and taller than some of the men too, but Petrich dwarfed her. His hair and beard were darker than either Felisjyta's or Rozhalea's, much closer to brown, and both had been trussed up in several complicated looking plaits. He wore the same style of clothing as Felisjyta, though in shades of blue, brown, and white.

"Lady Dragon, it is an honor," he told her.

The reverence in his voice was more than Patrice could respond to, so she merely said, "You fought very well in the tournament."

He shook his head. "If you want to see something impressive, you can attend the melee tomorrow. I'm more suited for such things."

"Perhaps."

"After all this is done," he said, "we would be happy to have you return to Serze with us. It would suit you better, the wilderness. Dragons aren't meant to remain trapped in such places as this."

"Maybe I should like to see it, someday."

And then she found herself face-to-face with Felisjyta again.

"For someone who didn't know how to dance half an hour ago, you're doing quite well," said Felisjyta.

"I admit I am enjoying myself more than I thought I would. Just like the tournament, and many other things at court," Patrice said. "As long as I concentrate on one thing at a time."

"See? It's not so terrible, even if it is a little more complicated than the way dragons do things. Or Serzeks for that matter." Felisjyta smiled here. "Just concentrate on living, the rest will follow in time."

"How draconian of you."

"I believe some things are the same, whether you are a dragon or a human."

And thus the dance circled around again and she found herself with Johan as her partner. She grabbed for the threads of the multiple conversations she had been pulled into.

"Rothert says that the two of you are related to the royal family, does that make you royalty as well?

"We aren't in line for the throne if that's what you're asking," he said with a chuckle. "It's in the bylaws of the country that knights aren't allowed to rule. The two of us were rather pushed in that direction, though we intended it anyway. There are already more than enough people in the line of succession without adding us and our siblings to the mix."

"Why can't you rule?" Patrice asked, intrigued. For as much as she complained to herself, she could admit that humans also fascinated her with their endless complexities and rules, so different from the stable and mostly solitary dragons.

Johan thought about it for a minute. "Well naturally, any ruler needs to be able to fight. The rulers, and the heirs for that matter, are expected to be on the field of battle if necessary. They need to know how to direct troops. But for a stable country, a ruler needs to know more than just war. So knights, who dedicate our lives to the study of war, wouldn't make a good fit. After a time there just developed a tradition of the oldest children in noble families becoming knights in a show of deference to the current ruling family."

"That actually makes something resembling sense," Patrice said, surprised.

He laughed. "I'm glad something does. In our case it was even more necessary. Rothert's older sister accepted an alliance marriage back to Juska, and his younger brother will take over the family estate. I'm a knight as well as marrying off, which leaves my little sister to run the estate. All good ways of saying 'we're not a threat'. More royal families have been undone by relatives than by outsiders."

"Is it really such a common thing that your families need to worry about it?"

"Lady Patrice, humans have an endless capacity for most things, greed and lust for power being two of them."

And on that disturbing note, he handed her off to Rothert.

"Hello again, beautiful lady," he said.

Patrice could only roll her eyes. "We aren’t even the same species," she told him. Although, it's not like that had stopped her father, now had it?

"Ah, you have much to learn about human culture, such as the games played between men and maids. There is no need to be alarmed, courtly romance has little to do with actual romance. It really is just a game." He winked. "Besides, everyone knows that Juskan men are fiery and passionate and great lovers of beauty. It is my duty to offer every lovely young lady here a shower of compliments and praise."

"And now we're back to humans not making sense."

"It doesn't need to make sense to you, but you can take my word for it, you won't lack for dance partners all evening." He laughed, and even Patrice had to smile. His attitude was somewhat infectious.

He continued to shower her with increasingly more ridiculous compliments until finally it was time to change partners again. "Off with you then, stop pestering me," she told him with mock severity.

He kissed the back of her hand lightly and left her to Errys's company.

Much to her surprise, Patrice found that Rothert had been correct. She didn't lack for partners all evening. As soon as one round or reel was completed, another nearby would scoop her up. It isn't that it wasn't fun, but it was simply so chaotic. The constant movement, constant noise, the bright light of hundreds of candles, and the overwhelming array of colors. Patrice had never experienced things like this before, and found herself, all of a sudden, quite overwhelmed. Somewhere past two in the morning she fled into the gardens and made her way back to her suite in the dark and silence.

Patrice did not attend the melee the next day.

She did not leave her suite.

She hardly even left her bed. She spent the day alone, drifting between restless sleep and pondering the predicament she'd gotten herself into.

Patrice had told the maids early on not to bother with her. She could hear them chattering and gossiping in the main room, working on the wardrobe she was to take with her to summer court. The three of them would not be enough to make such clothing in only a few days' time. She knew they had invited some of their friends and sisters into her suite to help, but that did not concern her. What would they do? Steal the jewelry she barely tolerated anyway?

Patrice tuned them out the best she could.

Dragons lived long lives, and were rarely impulsive. They adapted, certainly, but they still took comfort in planning and logic. Patrice's life among the humans – brief as it had been so far – had been anything but planned or logical. Instead, others had taken control, dragging her along from one thing to another: the carousel, the tournament, the banquet, the dance. Now, somehow, Patrice was a lady in this human court, and expected to act as such.

She wasn't sure she could escape that role now. Certainly, there were other places in the human world to go. But that would just be more humans, and more traditions that she had to learn, more expectations placed on her, and even less control.

Patrice rolled over and stared at one of the tapestries in her room, the scene of purple gray mountains, dark forests, and the blood red of a setting sun. It was the sort of place a dragon would live.

She couldn't live with the dragons. Even if she had the ability to approach them, they would know her for a halfbreed immediately. Presumably they would exile her as they had exiled her mother.

Patrice listened to the maids talking and laughing in the main room. That was another consideration, she could not live among commoners in any country – she had no useful skills to offer, no talent with which to make a living, no knowledge to impart.

She knew she could return to the tower, but the thought of going back made her heart freeze. For all Patrice's life, it had just been her and her mother, with few exceptions. Some dragons ignored the exile and came to visit them, but those that did stopped by rarely.

For all that her mother had loved humans, Patrice had been forbidden from crossing the wall out of the old kingdom alone, and from even being on the grounds when knights drew near. It had been a long and lonely childhood, though she was only realizing it now. The thought of returning, even if her mother had been alive, did not sit well. With her mother dead, she didn't think she could bear it.

Patrice had never realized how lonely she had been, not until being here among all these people. Like a thirsty woman in the desert who had finally found an oasis, she could not face the idea of going back to such a solitary life. Even if the number of people here was overwhelming, it was still better than complete solitude.

But what were her options here? To simply be swept along in court politics, to spend her life facing fake flirtation and constantly needing to second-guess whether she could trust someone?

While her maids giggled and laughed in the sitting room, Patrice quietly wept in hers. Burning tears singed her pillows and ate small holes in the fabric of her nightgown. She wept for her mother, and for being the way she was, and for not knowing what to do or who to trust. She wept harder because she'd been trying not to – she hadn't wanted to show any sign of weakness to the humans of the court. Now she couldn't stop. All the grief, the anger, the uncertainty all came out at once, leaving her exhausted, empty, and cold.

That was how Felisjyta found Patrice that evening – with red rimmed eyes and tear streaked cheeks. Felisjyta had only come to give her something to eat, but when she saw Patrice's stricken look, she had no choice but to stay.

She shut the door behind her, set her platter aside, and gathered Patrice into her arms. "Oh, Patrice," she said, resting her forehead against Patrice's in the way dragons did. "Everything is going to be fine."

Patrice had thought she was out of tears, but getting comforted by someone just set her off again. She curled up against Felisjyta's shoulder and wept.

Felisjyta just held her and stroked her hair and whispered encouragements. It couldn't have been comfortable for the knight, but she held on despite the heat of the tears and the prick of too sharp nails on her skin.

The two of them sat that way in the dark for a long while after Patrice had stopped crying again. At some point, Felisjyta slowly disentangled herself from the dragon and moved to light one of the candles on the bedside table. "I'm sorry," she said. "I probably shouldn't have pushed you so hard. I know I can be a little bit too oblivious to other people's feelings. I should've noticed how upset you are."

"No," Patrice said. The word came out as half laugh and half sob. "I didn't want anyone to notice. All of this is just…it's so much. And I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Who does?" Felisjyta asked.

Patrice shook her head. "Everything has changed so fast, and I had no say in any of it. I still have no say. And I miss my mother. Even if she could be just as overbearing, at least I always knew what to expect. At least I knew that she cared about me and that I could trust her. And this," she pulled the lump of stone out from under her pillow, "is going away so fast! How can you expect to express all your grief in such a short time?"

Felisjyta sat back down on the bed. "I told you in the beginning, Patrice. Humans grieve together. We comfort one another. It's all right for you to be upset, and to act like you're upset."

"I don't want any humans to see me as weak. I don't want them to know how out of place I am here." The thought hovered at the back of her mind that she was out of place everywhere but now, finally, there were no more tears to shed over that particular fact.

Felisjyta laughed. "You silly, stubborn little dragon, don't you think everybody already knows how out of place you are? I believe that's something a lot of people find endearing, actually."

Patrice said nothing.

"You just lost your mother, we know you must be upset," Felisjyta continued. "No one here would expect you not to be upset. In the future you can come to me. Or I'm sure your maids would be happy to fuss over you. You don't give them nearly enough to do as it is."

"I suppose," Patrice said. But she knew that she would continue to grieve in private.

Felisjyta gave her a sad look, as if she knew it too, but didn't dwell on it. "I am sorry. I should have checked on you last night. I admit I rather lost track of the evening."

"I wouldn't have wanted to see you last night."

"Fair enough. Do you think you can eat something now? I know you didn't have much at the banquet. Everything seems better on a full stomach."

Patrice gave a nod of assent and took the platter Felisjyta handed her. It was deer meat again, but Patrice had never turned her nose up at deer before and she wasn't going to start now. Although she did have to wonder where Felisjyta was getting it. Perhaps hunting actually was allowed on the royal family's grounds. She could also admit that it was kind of nice having someone else provide for her. "How was the melee?" She asked before she began eating.

Felisjyta leaned back on the bed. She waved one hand in a lazy gesture as she spoke. "Chaotic, loud, and dangerous," she said. "Sir Eddard came out with a broken arm, and he wasn't the only one."

"Are you all right?" Patrice paused to look over the knight. Felisjyta seemed much the same as usual, dressed in a loose white tunic with red embroidery and blue britches. She didn't look as if she were in any pain.

"Fine, just fine," said Felisjyta. "I got knocked on my ass within the first five minutes anyway."

Reassured, Patrice went back to nibbling on the meat. "Who won?"

"Petrich. I think his size worked to his advantage."

"The duchess must be pleased."

"As a cat in cream. We came second in the joust, first in the melee, and first in the archery contest." There was an odd, discontent look on Felisjyta's face that Patrice couldn't even begin to decipher. But she couldn't help but remember Rozhalea's insulting words from the previous evening.

"But it doesn't please you?"

"Not that," Felisjyta said. "Rozhalea, oh… I don't know. We've been working so hard since we came here, training all the time, practicing those stupid rules with all the new armor and everything. It's like she's trying to turn us into something we aren't. And those of us who fall short of that ideal…"

"I understand," Patrice said, and patted Felisjyta's shoulder.

The knight laughed. "You better than anyone. But hey now, there's no reason to talk about depressing things like this. I'll tell you about the melee."

Patrice ate as Felisjyta described the melee from start to finish and let the words wash over her. Hearing about it, Patrice was glad she hadn’t gone. It sounded even louder and more chaotic than the joust. She didn’t think her frayed nerves would have been able to handle it.

The food, the company, and the chatter helped. By the time Felisjyta was ready to leave Patrice felt, if not great, then at least good enough. She bid the knight a goodnight, and fell into the sort of dead sleep that one can only achieve when truly exhausted.

Index | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#writeblr #writing #tc's writing #dragon's daughter #femslash #queer fantasy #fantasy novels #authors on tumblr

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awesomecraftandarts · 6 years ago

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sosuperawesome: Dragon Figurines Juskan Creations on Etsy See… https://ift.tt/2OMnLuF

#craft and arts #craft #arts

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clever-feathers-clan · 9 months ago

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-Juskan 🪽

Hi welcome to my very tired rant

#This #This this this this!!#so true #I'm attracted to smart people *because* they have the most ability to connect with me through shared interests..#Not just smart people for the sake of it #sapiosexual #yes #just yes

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deadlyessencewhispers · 6 years ago

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and because you didn't specify and i know you love it, here's an astral sails fact, too! james can sew! really well, actually! his mother taught him when he was younger, and he still knows how now. of course, this is used both for cute things and, ah, a few things that are a little more rough around the edges.

Yeah!! I knew this fact actually! that’s how he sews up ... Teach’s wounds!!!!!

Uhm uhm uhm. Not exactly the same thing but Amir knows how to sew! He’s actually quite knowledgeable in a lot of various things... although sewing in the Omast (the anthro world) and specifically Juskan (the anthro village and main hub that Amir is from) sewing is kind of different and in fact done in the same style a bird might sew up a nest. ITS THE STYLE THEY GLEANED FROM THE BIRD ANTHROS who still insist on sewing up nests instead of making homes, but it takes longer so usually it can be a community event.

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arikuosmanen · 7 years ago

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Teatteri-arvio: Kevytkenkäinen nainen etsii seksiä (Tamperelainen)

Lue alkuperäinen artikkeli tältä sivulta: this site

ENSI-ILTA Maarit Pyökärin taitavasti ohjaamassa TTT:n näytelmässä puhutaan rohkeasti ikääntyneiden ihmisten seksielämästä.

Seuranhakuilmoitukset ovat viime vuosina vapautuneet. Mallia näytti jo entinen pääministeri ja nyt netistä etsivät partnereita monenlaiset ihmiset.

YhdysvaltalainenJane Juska päätti myös kokeilla onneaan. Hän laittoi kirjallisuuslehteen rohkean ilmoituksen.

– Ennen kuin täytän 67 – ensi maaliskuussa – minä haluan harrastaa paljon seksiä sellaisen miehen kanssa, josta pidän. Jos haluat jutella ensin, Trollope toimii aina.

Juska sai 63 vastausta 32 – 84-vuotiailta miehiltä ja kirjoitti omien kokemustensa innoittamana aiheesta näytelmän.

Ikääntyneiden naisten seksistä ei kovin usein puhuta, vaikka se tutkimusten mukaan on hyvin yleistä. Silti siihen suhtaudutaan jotenkin nolona asiana, mutta tässä Jane Juskan näytelmässä kissa nostetaan pöydälle. Asioista puhutaan rohkeasti niiden omilla nimillä. Se saattaa herkkähipiäisempiä loukata. Ensi-illasta tullessa kaksi kahdeksankymppistä leidiä tokaisikin vähän hämmästyttävästi, että ”tämähän nyt oli ihan tuttua.”

Sinikka Sokka on saanut suuren roolin ja kannattelee esitystä karismallaan. Hän on vilpittömästi asiansa takana. Kolmenkymmenen vuoden selibaatin jälkeen on aika nauttia elämästä ja ennen kaikkea seksistä. Hänen ystävättärensä – Teija Auvinen ja Minna Hokkanen – ovat aluksi kauhistuneita ilmoituksen laittamisesta, mutta pian mukana lukemassa kirjeitä.

Teija Auvinen onnistuu erinomaisesti myös Anthony Trollopen kirjoittamana romaanihenkilönä, jonka kanssa Jane keskustelee.

Janen ja miesten tapaamisia kuvataan hauskasti; ehdokkaina on täysiä lieroja ja itsekeskeisiä, omahyväisiä herroja. Esko Roine ja Ilmari Saarelainen tekevät heistä hyviä tyyppejä. Ainoa täydellinen sielunkumppani on Samuli Mujeen esittämä hurmaava nuori mies. Katsoja jää harmittelemaan, miksi Janella ei riitä tarpeeksi rohkeutta.

Samuli Muje tekee loistavan tulkinnan myös tanssinopettajana – lantioiden vatkaaminen saa katsojat hytkymään naurusta. Teija Auvisen koreografia toimii kohtauksessa täydellisesti.

Pirjo Liiri-Majavan lavastuksessa on etualalla aiheeseen sopivasti jättiläissänky. Musiikki hivelee sielua.

Katariina Fleming

Kevytkenkäinen nainen

Perustuu Jane Juskan kirjoittamaan romaaniin

Dramatisointi Jane Prowse

Suomennos Aino Piirola

Ohjaus Maarit Pyökäri

Rooleissa Sinikka Sokka, Esko Roine, Ilmari Saarelainen, Teija Auvinen, Minna Hokkanen, Samuli Muje, Verneri Lilja

Suomalainen kantaesitys TTT:n Suurella näyttämöllä 26.9.2017

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fisicol92 · 8 years ago

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Biathlon Women’s Sprint World Champ

1 DORIN HABERT Marie FRA 1986 14:45:30 2 KUZMINA Anastasiya SVK 1984 14:46:00 3 DUNKLEE Susan USA 1986 14:46:30 4 r MAKARAINEN Kaisa FIN 1983 14:47:00 5 VISHNEVSKAYA Galina KAZ 1994 14:47:30 6 WIERER Dorothea ITA 1990 14:48:00 7 BENDIKA Baiba LAT 1991 14:48:30 8 KRYUKO Iryna BLR 1991 14:49:00 9 HOJNISZ Monika POL 1991 14:49:30 10 GLAZYRINA Ekaterina RUS 1987 14:50:00 11 BRAISAZ Justine FRA 1996 14:50:30 12 CRAWFORD Rosanna CAN 1988 14:51:00 13 LAUKKANEN Mari FIN 1987 14:51:30 14 GASPARIN Selina SUI 1984 14:52:00 15 DZHIMA Yuliia UKR 1990 14:52:30 16 SLOOF Chardine SWE 1992 14:53:00 17 CHEVALIER Anais FRA 1993 14:53:30 18 FROLINA Anna KOR 1984 14:54:00 19 USANOVA Darya KAZ 1989 14:54:30 20 SANFILIPPO Federica ITA 1990 14:55:00 21 NICOLAISEN Kaia Woeien NOR 1990 14:55:30 22 TANG Jialin CHN 1991 14:56:00 23 MERKUSHYNA Anastasiya UKR 1995 14:56:30 24 TACHIZAKI Fuyuko JPN 1989 14:57:00 25 PADIAL HERNANDEZ Victoria ESP 1988 14:57:30 2 26 BRORSSON Mona SWE 1990 14:58:00 27 TALIHAERM Johanna EST 1993 14:58:30 28 HAECKI Lena SUI 1995 14:59:00 29 HARTWEGER Fabienne AUT 1992 14:59:30 30 REID Joanne USA 1992 15:00:00 31 KARISIK Tanja BIH 1991 15:00:30 32 RUNGGALDIER Alexia ITA 1991 15:01:00 33 RANSOM Julia CAN 1993 15:01:30 34 SZOECS Emoeke HUN 1985 15:02:00 35 LIGHTFOOT Amanda GBR 1987 15:02:30 36 DOMRACHEVA Darya BLR 1986 15:03:00 37 FENNE Hilde NOR 1993 15:03:30 38 JUSKANE Zanna LAT 1989 15:04:00 39 HAMMERSCHMIDT Maren GER 1989 15:04:30 40 NICIPORENKO Anastasia MDA 1995 15:05:00 41 GEREKOVA Jana SVK 1984 15:05:30 42 GWIZDON Magdalena POL 1979 15:06:00 43 AKIMOVA Tatiana RUS 1990 15:06:30 44 MUN Ji-Hee KOR 1988 15:07:00 45 TSAKIRI Maria GRE 1997 15:07:30 46 KOCERGINA Natalija LTU 1985 15:08:00 47 TOIVANEN Laura FIN 1988 15:08:30 48 AYMONIER Celia FRA 1991 15:09:00 49 ZHANG Yan CHN 1992 15:09:30 50 SALMAN Diana ROU 1993 15:10:00 51 FURUYA Sari JPN 1990 15:10:30 52 STOYANOVA Desislava BUL 1992 15:11:00 53 PIDHRUSHNA Olena UKR 1987 15:11:30 54 POLTORANINA Olga KAZ 1987 15:12:00 55 POJE Urska SLO 1997 15:12:30 56 CHARVATOVA Lucie CZE 1993 15:13:00 57 MITSUHASHI Rina JPN 1990 15:13:30 3 58 LUNDER Emma CAN 1991 15:14:00 59 HINZ Vanessa GER 1992 15:14:30 60 GUZIK Krystyna POL 1983 15:15:00 61 HILDEBRAND Franziska GER 1987 15:15:30 62 PISCORAN Luminita ROU 1988 15:16:00 63 SEMERENKO Valj UKR 1986 15:16:30 64 y DAHLMEIER Laura GER 1993 15:17:00 65 ZDOUC Dunja AUT 1994 15:17:30 66 VITTOZZI Lisa ITA 1995 15:18:00 67 BIRKELAND Fanny Horn NOR 1988 15:18:30 68 EGAN Clare USA 1987 15:19:00 69 SLEPTSOVA Svetlana RUS 1986 15:19:30 70 GASPARIN Elisa SUI 1991 15:20:00 71 MAGNUSSON Anna SWE 1995 15:20:30 72 LEHTLA Kadri EST 1985 15:21:00 73 RASIMOVICIUTE-BRICE Diana LTU 1984 15:21:30 74 VITKOVA Veronika CZE 1988 15:22:00 75 SKARDINO Nadezhda BLR 1985 15:22:30 76 HAUSER Lisa Theresa AUT 1993 15:23:00 77 KISTANOVA Anna KAZ 1990 15:23:30 78 MENG Fanqi CHN 1998 15:24:00 79 GHILENKO Alla MDA 1992 15:24:30 80 FIALKOVA Paulina SVK 1992 15:25:00 81 YORDANOVA Emilia BUL 1989 15:25:30 82 ERZEN Anja SLO 1992 15:26:00 83 GASPARIN Aita SUI 1994 15:26:30 4 84 VIIGIPUU Kristel EST 1990 15:27:00 85 OEBERG Hanna SWE 1995 15:27:30 86 PISAREVA Nadzeya BLR 1988 15:28:00 87 PAULAUSKAITE Natalija LTU 1991 15:28:30 88 INNERHOFER Katharina AUT 1991 15:29:00 89 PHANEUF Madeleine USA 1995 15:29:30 90 PUSKARCIKOVA Eva CZE 1991 15:30:00 91 AVVAKUMOVA Ekaterina KOR 1990 15:30:30 92 TOFALVI Eva ROU 1978 15:31:00 93 POPOVA Stefani BUL 1993 15:31:30 94 OLSBU Marte NOR 1990 15:32:00 95 HORCHLER Nadine GER 1986 15:32:30 96 KOUKALOVA Gabriela CZE 1989 15:33:00 97 TANDY Megan CAN 1988 15:33:30 98 STARYKH Irina RUS 1987 15:34:00 99 MITORAJ Kinga POL 1995 15:34:30 100 GREGORIN Teja SLO 1980 15:35:00 101 ECKHOFF Tiril NOR 1990 15:35:30

#tiril eckhoff #Dorothea wierer #gabriela koukalova #laura dahlmeier #marie dorin habert #biathlon #biathlond world champ #daria domracheva

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