#kius hi rise

[kiutb]

HI-RISE

Kept you waiting, huh? This is HI-RISE, one of my Rain World AUs inspired quite heavily by the likes of Splatoon and Phighting (play both) and will be one of the primary focuses of my blog.

I'll post every character's fullbody together when they're all completed. Can you guess the design inspirations?

World summary below

The city home to friendly conflict, battles and the playground of those looking to make a name for themselves. Battle is a way of life for the citizens of this world, where squads of five duke it out in controlled environments for fame and power.

A group of 5 slugcats - the Hunter, the Saint, the Rivulet, the Spearmaster, and the Artificer find themselves crossing paths and forging new bonds - attempting to leave their mark on the world they live in... though underneath the surface, not everyone's intentions are as clearcut as it seems.

This is a story forged by the bonds they have built, and a testament to their faith in one another.

Welcome to Ascent.

[vivi-blue]

*Kiu gently rubbed his back, smiling a little*

Kiu: I know it hurts a lot...but it's important that you don't let your dream be ruined by anyone. You worked so hard for it, then you shouldn't throw it away.

Kiu: Do you remember what I told you about the meaning of the petunia? It means "Never give up". And you really shouldn't do it now, even if the situation is dire. They might have knocked you down, but it doesn't mean you can't stand up. And everyone will help with it!

*Kiu smiled more, sounding quite optimistic*

Kiu: I mean, I could create some extra things in my shop and sell them and save up some money. Or maybe there are even some people that would ask for donations! I only have a small flower shop, but "The Evergarden" never disappointed it's customers! I could also hang out a flier that we could need help for your pizzaria. I'm sure there would be some people willing to help!

*Kiu slightly let go of him, laying her hands on his shoulders. Her view was filled with confidence*

Kiu: If I learned something from all the books I've read, then that the hero shouldn't falter by the evil guys! And you shouldn't do that too! You are THE Peppino Spaghetti after all! If you can destroy a whole tower, you can for sure let a pizzeria rise from rubble again!

Kiu: Don't worry, Mister Peppino...I got you.

*Kiu helps Peppino to talk, laying his arm over her shoulder*

Kiu: L-Let us bring you to safety first...then we will see what to do...the neighbors surely will be able to help somehow...

*she is not the strongest, but she tries to support Peppino as good as possible*

Kiu: Don't worry...we will get you some help...please don't give up...

"........."

*He just walked in silence or more like limped, he wanted to apologize for her going through so much trouble just to help him but he was too tired to speak*

[thefamily]

“Who did this to you.” Interlude

This was inspired by this this! Thank you @whumpster-dumpster for letting me use it.

https://whumpster-dumpster.tumblr.com/post/180738459087/character-a-tilting-character-bs-chin-up-to-get-a

Jack’s P.O.V.

        I was stumbling through the forest, my vision slightly blurry, my cheek still ringing and my body hurting, whether it was from the emptiness or the fall down the stairs. I don’t know probably both to be honest. I wander aimlessly through the forest not focusing on anything, wanting nothing more than to be with Liru right now. I can feel myself getting dizzier the more I walked, until I come across a clearing with a bunch of trees that had all fallen over outward from the center of them. But I don’t have to think about that. I fall to my knee’s coughing like mad and almost instantly I can see splotches of blood on the grass.

        ‘Oh. That's not good.’

        Once I stop coughing, there is a small stain of blood in the grass. I don’t even acknowledge it as I pull myself up onto a fallen tree and sit on it. I hug myself, leaning over letting blood drip from my mouth, trying not to breathe it in. I choke back a sob, not wanting to make the pain worse as I think about what Mrs. Blanchfield did. I can’t stop the feeling of the hand hitting across my face, the force from it was enough to knock me down the stairs. Without even thinking, I ran out the door as fast I could ignoring the pain shooting through my entire body.

        I feel her presence before I see her and my heart begins to pound, ‘Nonononono please don’t let her see me like this.’

        “Jack?”

        ‘Shit.’ I slowly look up at her and I feel my heart flutter ever so slightly when I see her face, which has a look of confusion written all over it before it quickly changes to one of surprise then fury before falling emotionless. I quickly look back down at the ground as I hear the dead grass crunching beneath her bare feet as she stops right in front of me.

        “Jack,” I flinch slightly curling in on myself a bit. “look at me.” Her tone leaves no room for argument. I take a deep shaking breath, wincing in pain as I do, wiping the blood from my mouth away, before I look up at her. She immediately puts a knuckle under my chin tilting my head up more as she examines it and I can feel blood begin to drip down my chin again as she does. Her eyes flick down to the blood and she gently wipes away the blood before bringing it up to her face, saying nothing as she examines it.

        After a second or two, I feel my heart skip a nervous beat as she looks me dead in the eyes. Her voice is quiet and tense, her anger barely restrained as clouds begin to circle overhead.

        “W͟h̕o̢ did̢ th̡is̶ tò ͞you̡?”

        I swallow nervously, not sure if I should tell her, eyeing the blade of her scythe that strapped to her back, despite the very being of my soul screaming at me to tell her, but the thing in my head was screeching at me not to.

        “Jąck.̛”

        “Mrs. Blanchfield.” The words tumble out of before I can even process the tone in her voice, a promise of pain and hellfire.

        “And who exactly is this… w̛oman?” My heart speeds up a bit as she spits out the word like it was poison. I swallow nervously wincing a bit, trying not to gag as the coppery blood runs down my throat.

        “S-She’s the o-orphanage caret-taker.” I flinch slightly at a low growl that seems to shake the world around us. Before I could begin to look around it she grabbed my hand, pulled me up and began pulling me away from the field. At her touch I can feel just how chaotic her mind is, the fury that's causing it reminding much of the time Henrik became enraged.

        “W-Where are we going?” I quietly curse myself for stuttering as she continues to pull me along, although I’m more following her than anything.

        “Home, I’m not letting you go back to those monsters.” Her words almost immediately calm me down.

        “Oh, okay.” The thought of being around her everyday, never having to go back to that hellhole, it brought a comfort I haven’t felt since before Henrik left. Before his promise rang through my head causing panic to grip my very being.

        “WAIT!”

Liru’s P.O.V.

        I stopped in my tracks at his shout, his mind cold from whose ever voice that rang through it. I feel myself grow cold at the thought of him wanting to go back.

        ‘No. Please no, it’s not safe, please.’

        “I-I have to go back.” His voice is small and quiet as he speaks, and I can feel my shoulders drop as my stomach falls. ‘No…’

        “Jack…” My voice cracks as I whisper, not wanting to turn to him.

        “Please Liru, I need to go back.” His voice desperate as I forced myself to look at him. He was swaying in his spot slightly, his free arm wrapped tightly around his stomach, hand gripping his now blood stained shirt, bruises beginning to form already, especially the still welted hand print of the side of his face. I can feel a primal anger rise in me at the sight of it wanting nothing more than to tear apart the women responsible for it.

        “After what that monster did to you?” My voice is shaking with barely contained rage as I look him in the eyes, one of them bloodshot. He flinches at the sound of anger and it quickly melts away into sadness and ignored rejection.

        “You’re covered in bruises and blood, Jack. You’re not safe there.” I can’t keep the begging from my voice, it cracking like a glass jar thrown against a rock.

        “You look like you were thrown down the stairs!” I’m fighting back tears now, the desperation growing with every breath.

        “I-I’m fine, I just fell when I was leaving.” He looks me dead in the eye, pleading look never disappearing.

        “Please… I need to go back.” His are filled with unshed tears and I can feel my resolve break. I grab his hand gently pulling him to me as I step closer to him. He stumbles a little as he does and he has a confused and almost hopeful look that I can’t look at. Looking at the ground, I use my other hand to reach up and cup the back of his head, my entire body slouched in defeat and melancholy.

        “Liru?” He asks, confusion and worry clear in his voice. I don’t reply whispering,

        “Sopor.” Under my breath. And just like that, he falls limp against me as he sleeps. I quickly wrap my arms under his as I gently as I can, sliding down to my knees as I lay him against the grass. As I lay him against the grass the trees around us open their eyes, revealing glowing white sap as the faint smell of discarded flesh lingers in the air. They don’t say anything but I know they’re watching us.

        I run a hand of Jack, muttering a diagnostic spell under my breath as I do. It takes every ounce of control I have not to lose my temper right then and there. I look at his face and even asleep he looks like he’s in pain. I put a hand on his cheek rubbing my mark gently before beginning to sing.

“Flower gleam and glow.”

        I can’t heal him too much. I don’t want him to get suspicious. I can’t lose him too.

“Let your power shine.”

        I feel relief floods me as I watch as pieces of the cosmos flow through him, the collage of colors making him look like a young god as the forest floor beneath him begins to grow at a rapid pace, grass and flowers growing up and lightly wrapping around him.

“Make the clock reverse.”

        The collectors around us are creaking, speaking to each other curiosity radiating from them as they stare at the two of us, and I understand why. With Jack laid on the grass with me hunched over him with a hand on his cheek healing him.

“Bring back what was mine.”

        I force myself to not continue but thankfully he’s healed enough where he’s only kinda bruised and no longer bleeding internally. How he managed to get all the way out here without dying is beyond me. It’s at least a six hour walk but… I didn’t sense him until he was in the field… I quickly shake any of those thoughts away. 

        ‘I can deal with it later. Right now I need to take him back.’ I go to pick him up before I freeze, realizing it’s not a good idea for me not to take him. If I went to that village right now I’d burn it to the ground. I look back at Jack knowing I only have one choice for help right now. I take deep breath before shouting,

        “Σπαθί!!!” Within seconds the shadow creature is next to me on all fours.

        “Saluton, saluton, saluton. Ho! Kio estas tio?” The creature, roughly the size of a human man crawling on all fours with both arms and legs bent more like a horse’s than a humans, is staring down at both Jack and I.

        “Ĉu ĉi tio estas la malgranda homo, kiu ŝtelis la koron de la malgranda reĝino?” It leans over to sniff him but I quickly smack him on his side.

        “Cut that out I need help.” 

        “Ho?” Now I definitely have it’s attention.

        “Yes. I need help I know, weird right?” Sarcasm is dripping from my voice before I take a deep breath.

        “Look, I just need help getting him back to the village. And if I go there now, I’m going to l͟ęv̕el ̧it.” I wince a little at the way my voice changes, loathing it when it does that. It’s too much like a void demon’s. 

        “Tiam faru ĝin.” The malicious joy radiating from it nearly makes me cave to satisfy my own blood lust.

        “I can’t. Not yet. Not until he finally gives that place up.” It gives off the same energy of someone rolling its eyes before it looks down at Jack.

        “Can you take him back?” It’s head snaps to me, shock over taking it for a second before it throws its head back, letting out a blood curdling laugh, sounding more like a dying hell-hound than anything. When it finally stops I can hear what I assume is it’s mouth form into a toothy grin before stretching one arm out straight and it’s arm lets out a sick cracking sound as it’s ‘bones’ flipping around. I cringe at the sound and it scoops up Jack in it’s arm cradling him to it’s chest.

        “Kaj tiel la eta reĝo iras hejmen.”

        “It’s not his home. He’s made that very clear.” My voice is nothing more than a whisper as I push myself up, the grass curling around my fingers before I pull them away, standing up.

        “For mi iras.” And just like that they were gone. Once they were gone the Collectors began to talk amongst themselves again. I hadn’t even realized they stopped. I look around one last time before closing my eyes and focusing on my home?

        ‘Is it home without him?’

        When I open my eyes again, I’m thankfully in my room but also completely drained of any energy I might have had left after today. I flop on my bed, too exhausted to keep everything hidden, my wings sprawling out around me on the round bed, my tail joining them as it curls around me, making a small rattling sound as it moves. I’m laying face down as my horns come out weighing down my head a little, and finally my scales and eyes change the gold and red scales uncomfortable under the clothes I’m too tired to remove.

        I’m so close to dozing off when the door is lightly pushed open. Moving my head so I can look to see what entered my room, I’m almost immediately greeted by Izzy hopping onto the bed, a squeaky meow leaving her as she tries to move past my wings without stepping on them. I drag them out of the way in which she goes over to my throat and paws at the part around my neck until it comes undone and she slides underneath it on my back, knocking the scythe to the floor.

        I laugh lightly, closing my eyes again and yawning, muttering under my breath,

        “Please be okay Jack.” Not noticing Riptide’s head poking through the door as Izzy purrs me to sleep.

Yes Riptide ate her hand. Also no judging for the song I had no better idea's.

Tag List:

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@thegamerbook Thank you for beta reading the first few pages!

Translations:

Saluton, saluton, saluton. Ho! Kio estas tio?? = Hello, hello hello. Oh! What's this?

Ĉu ĉi tio estas la malgranda homo, kiu ŝtelis la koron de la malgranda reĝino. = Is this the little human that's stolen the little queen's heart?

Tiam faru ĝin. = Then do it.

Kaj tiel la eta reĝo iras hejmen. = And so the little king goes home.

For mi iras. = Off I go.

Spade is Σπαθί

[typingtess]

NCIS: Los Angeles Season Eight Rewatch:    "Black Market" The basics:  After a Homeland Security Agent is killed, the team investigates the world of counterfeits.   Written by:  Jordana Lewis Jaffe, who wrote or co-wrote “Honor”, “Patriot Acts”, “Dead Body Politic”, “Paper Soldiers”, “Unwritten Rule”, “Big Brother”, “Iron Curtain Rising”, “Exposure”, “Savior Faire”, “Beacon”, “Defectors” and “Exchange Rate”.

Directed by:  James Hanlon who directed “War Cries”, “The Grey Man”, “Kolcheck, A”, “Driving Miss Diaz”, “Command and Control” (number 150), “Angels and Daemons” and “Where There’s Smoke Guest stars of note: Laura Harring returns as Julia Feldman, Byron Mann (Arrow) as Zhang Kiu, Daniel Marin as Carlos Gutierrez, Catherine Carlen as Diane, Gita Reddy as Charge Nurse, Rickey Eugene Brown as Jesse Evans, Desmond Chiam as Edward Lee, Dennell Jackson as Barista and Daniel Blake as Male Nurse. Our heroes:  Do a lot of shooting while Kensi remains in the hospital. What important things did we learn about: Callen:  Broke a man's arm to save Sam. Sam:  Knows his Chinese prisons. Kensi:  Still unconscious. Deeks: Chai tea and gluten free muffin fan. Eric:  Starts his campaign for Kensi. Nell:   Detail-oriented. Granger:  Thinking about a replacement for Kensi. Hetty:  "Honey badger don't mess around." What not so important things did we learn about: Callen: Ran an Ironman Triathlon as a spur of the moment thing. Sam:   Not looking for a new house. Kensi:  Being read her childhood favorite book by her mother. Deeks: Not all that in love with "Martin". Eric:  Makes conversation notes for when Nell returns. Nell: Sits on a first aid kit to see over the steering wheel in the Audi. Granger:  Meets Kensi's mom. Hetty:  Cleans her weapons wearing a white suit and remains immaculate. Who's down with OTP:   Deeks buys Kensi some breakfast even if she can't eat it and goes looking for the engagement ring when he thinks it is missing.   Granger meet Kensi's mom. Who's down with BrOTP:  Sam has lots of fun with Callen's discomfort over running the triathlon.  Deeks and Nell make a good pair during the case.  Eric champions Kensi's recovery.   Any Hanna family mentions:  Sam tells Diane the real estate agent that he has a family.

Fashion review:   Blue-green plaid button down shirt for Callen.  It is brick red henley day for Sam. Hospital garb for Kensi.  Cerulean blue (hello X-Files fans) long sleeve tee shirt for Deeks.  Eric is in a red and blue plaid button down short sleeve shirt with a black tee.  Nell starts the episode in a dark blue top with red stripes and black pants.  Dark blue suit for Granger with a plaid print and a pale blue dress shirt.  Hetty wears her white suit with a red blouse – looks spectacular as always. Music:  "Get to Know Ya" by Nao. Any notable cut scene:  No.   Quote:  Granger: What are you doing, Beale?" Eric:  "Making an entrance." Granger:  "It's impressive." Eric:  "Those applications? You're replacing Kensi." Granger:  "Do you have something for me or not?" Eric:  "We still don't know who Zhang Kiu has working for him inside Homeland Security. But Callen and Sam think whoever it is has been helping him smuggle purses, drugs, and contraband into the country for years." Granger:  "DHS has come under fire for mismanaging personnel and budgets." Eric:  "It's the reason they created those fusion centers, right? To help rein in the spending." Granger:  "But then the fusion centers went and blew their budgets on Tahoes and plasma TVs." Eric:  "I guess hiring all those MBAs hasn't quite paid off." Granger:  "You think?" Eric:  "Wait.  You think Zhang Kiu has someone working for him inside one of the DHS fusion centers." Granger:  "That's where I'd start making friends.  Weakest link in the security chain." Eric:  "Yeah.  Yeah, that's good.  I know, it's none of my business, sir, But I know for a fact that Kensi's gonna be back.  Besides, she's irreplaceable." Granger:  "I wish that were true, Beale, but it's not.  For any of us." Anything else:  Two young men make their way to a great party at a fancy Malibu mansion.  A pool, beautiful women, an ocean view – the two men are impressed.   As they mix and mingle, a waitress offers them a mixed drink.  One of the men – Jesse – starts choking on his drink.  Carlos, Jesse's friend, calls for help.   

A stiff and sore Callen walks into the bullpen.  Sam thinks a drunken Callen was thrown off a mechanical bull at the Saddle Ranch steak house.  No – Callen ran an ironman triathlon (and finished) with no training.  Eric arrives with news of a case.  Callen slowly makes his way to Ops. 

Callen asks for Hetty, who has called in sick according to Nell but Granger suspects she's out mole hunting.  Eric and Nell have video of the party.  Jesse was Jesse Evans was an INS Agent for Homeland.  Evans was the second Homeland agent to be killed in recent weeks.  The friend, Carlos Gutierrez is on his way to the boat shed to be interviewed.  Callen and Sam are off to the crime scene.  Granger tosses Nell the keys to the Audi – get Deeks from the hospital. They are working together again though Sam would like Nell to keep the fisticuffs to a minimum.   

Nell is in her field gear as she walks into the armory.  She takes her weapon from one of the drawers.   

At the hospital, Deeks arrives with a good attitude and breakfast -breakfast burritos and coffee.  He puts the coffee cup under Kensi's nose.  No reaction from Kensi but a big reaction from Deeks when he notices the ring is off Kensi's finger.  An orderly gets the charge nurse while Deeks searches the bed.   

The charge nurse arrives – she has the ring.  Sometimes valuables go missing in the hospital and Kensi is not in any condition to notice.  The charge nurse thinks the ring is beautiful but Deeks needs to hold on to it.  The charge nurse is available if Deeks needs anything.

At the fancy mansion, Callen and Sam get the hard sell from a real estate agent, Diane, about the home. She's had it for sale for more than half the year.  She doesn't know the owner but thinks it is probably a sheik.  Callen asks about the party.  Diane rented out the place to a rich guy for the event as a way to market the house.   

Callen points out that it is actually illegal to rent out a single-family house in a residential neighborhood for a party.  Sam thinks they can let it slide if Diane cooperates.  She wants to help.  Diane has an issue with voyeurism (which she blames on both menopause and her ex-husband) so she figured out how to tap into the home security system.  Callen and Sam, escorted by Diane, go to look at the security footage.

A tired Deeks brings coffee to Gutierrez.  Nell is leading the questioning.  Gutierrez hasn't slept.  Evans was alive in his arms one minute and dead the next.  There was nothing Gutierrez could do to help his friend.  Deeks asks how they found out about the party.  Gutierrez explains he and Evans were grabbing a bite to eat the day before and a beautiful woman gave them a password to join her at a party.  He thought it sounded like fun.   

Callen is reviewing the footage of the party, trying to find who poisoned Evans's drink.  Diane is trying to sell Sam a better house for his family.  Callen finally sees a young woman messing with the drinks in profile.  Sam thinks they need a better look at the woman's face. 

Alone with Gutierrez, Deeks shows the mourning man a full shot of the woman who poisoned Jesse that either Callen or Sam sent to his phone.  Gutierrez recognizes her as the woman who invited them to the party.  In the boat shed's main room, Granger tells Nell he recognizes the woman in the photo.  "Another former love interest, sir?" Nell asks.  Ignoring Nell, Granger says the woman is Ming Wah, a hit woman for the Triad. 

Granger is waiting for Callen and Sam as they pull up outside the office's main door.  Callen is still incredibly sore.  In the bullpen area, Granger does a debrief.  Ming Wah is a Triad assassin who worked for Zhang Kiu, the Triad's leader.  Sam knows Zhang Kiu as his person of interest flier appears with the word "deceased" in big, red letters.  Granger thinks finding Wah would be valuable – she could tell them who is running the Triad now.  Granger wants her found and arrested.  He will lead her interrogation.   

Eric is making notes of all the things he wants to tell Nell.  "Spanking, whipped cream, domination" comes from NPR stories and comic books.  Granger sees the list which Eric tries to explain.  Granger is not interested since he has "a personal and professional obligation" to stop Eric from doing just that.  Granger wants an update on Ming Wah.  Eric wants some clarification on the term hit lady and/or assassiness.  Granger is not amused.   

Eric was able to track Wah from the restaurant where she spoke to Evans and Gutierrez to a warehouse leased to a shipping company owned by Wah and Zhang Kiu.  The deal was signed two years ago before Kiu was killed. Granger is about to update the others. Eric sees his list and realizes Granger had a point. 

Deeks is being terrorized by Nell behind the wheel.  The two bicker over her near misses accident-wise but Nell isn't all that interested, "because, soon enough, Kensi and her perfect little driving skills will be back and the two of you can live happily ever after."  Deeks looks like Nell hit him and Nell immediately apologizes.  Deeks makes it clear that they're good.  He wants her to stay to his left in the field and watch the head-kicks. 

Deeks and Nell join Callen and Sam.  Callen asks about Kensi but gets a quick "no news" from Deeks.  He's there to work.  The four are in their kevlar with the big guns.  They don't know much about what's in the warehouse – no security cameras and no idea what the Triad could be storing.  Nell knows the Triad moves guns, drugs, exotic animals and Deeks gets excited about there being a monkey inside.  "Beside the one we have," Sam jokes.  Deeks reminds Sam that he's a jungle cat. Callen wants Deeks and Nell to take the front.  Sam tells Nell, she's got this and Nell agrees.   

Deeks picks the lock to the front entrance.  On Callen's count, the two teams enter the warehouse and meet in the middle.  Callen opens a box with some high-end purses. Nell points out the flaws that make them counterfeits – wrong colors, wrong logos, wrong metals.  She is "extremely detailed oriented." Sam explains that counterfeit good help fund child labor, human trafficking and terrorism.   

Deeks wonders how the bags got into the country but as he asks, a man and a woman speaking Chinese enter the warehouse.  The team scatters to four different corners of the warehouse.  The man and woman notice that the purses are out of their boxes. Nell, for some reason, yells 'federal agents' and as usual, nothing good happens.  The man and woman flee.   

The woman is stopped by Nell and Deeks.  She half-climbs a wall, takes Deeks's legs out from under him and tries to climb over them through the warehouse shelves.  Deeks, a bit slow on feet from being knocked down, tells Nell to go up the nearby stairs and follow the woman.  She gets away. 

Sam corners the man who does not follow instructions about standing still.  When the man pulls a small knife and tries to lunge at Sam, Sam dances away and is able to punch the man in the face.  When the man backs away from Sam but still brandishing his weapon, Callen breaks his arm to make him drop the knife.  The man is Zhang Kiu with facial hair. 

Granger finds Hetty in the armory cleaning her weapon.  He asks about the mole hunt and then if Hetty is cleaning the gun with plans to use it. Hetty nods.  In fact, she just keeps nodding.  Granger updates her on Zhang Kiu and Hetty is still nodding her head. Granger reminds Hetty that they're down an agent and he could use "your involvement."  Hetty wants to know how Kiu got into the country. The Chinese did.  China is dumping their most violent criminals in the U.S. with false legends about being dead and new identities.   

In the interrogation room, Callen and Sam question Zhang Kiu, who has his right arm in a sling. They tell him he's never getting out of custody but Kiu says he's going back to China in a day.  Sam isn't so sure.  He thinks Kiu was thrown out of China.  He was given a choice, go to the US be a criminal there or stay in China in their Tilanqiao Prison, which is known for torture and human rights abuses. 

Sitting outside in the boat shed's main room, Deeks and Nell are watching Callen and Sam question Kiu. Deeks wants Nell to watch and learn because Callen and Sam are two of the best at questioning a prisoner behind Hetty, Granger, himself and of course Kensi because she can do good cop and bad cop all by herself.  Deeks jokes about Kensi's eye and Nell is along for the fun.  The two of them work really well together.  After joking, both get a little sad Kensi isn't there. 

Eric pops up on the main room’s screen. The two dead Homeland agents were investigating Kiu's immigration papers.  Nell wants to know how Kiu knew he was being investigated by two different agents.  The three come up with an idea that DHS may have been hacked.   

Callen's phone pings with an idea that DHS was hacked.  Callen asks about Jesse Evans and then insults Kiu "bad fake purses." Kiu plays dumb but laughs at the idea that DHS was hacked by him or by the Chinese government.  There was "no need" to hack DHS, according to Kiu.  He has friends.  Callen and Sam realize that Kiu has a mole at DHS.

Granger is sitting at the little computer desk in Hetty's office wall unit (which really isn't used nearly enough).  Eric is passing by several times before Granger finally asks him want he wants.  Eric sees that Granger is looking at the backgrounds of several NCIS agents who could possible replace Kensi.  He's upset.  Granger wants an update, which Eric provides.  The two realize that DHS has some new offices filled with new MBA grads. Kiu could have a person in one of the new offices working for him.  Granger wants Eric to find the weakest link in the security chain.   

As Eric goes to leave, he turns back to Granger.  Eric explains that while he knows it is none of his business, he knows for a fact that Kensi is going to return to work.  "She's irreplaceable."  Granger disagrees.  "I wish that was true, Beale, but it's not.  For any of us."  And this scene is so sad. 

Granger visits Kensi in the hospital.  Julia mistakes him for a doctor.  Granger introduces himself and Julia tells him that Kensi has mentioned him in the past. "I bet," was Grangers' reply. Granger wants to leave but Julia asks him not to.  She's just reading Kensi a book from Kensi's childhood – a book Kensi left behind when she ran away to live with her father.  Even after Kensi left, Julia would read it because it made her feel close to her daughter.   Julia asks if Granger has any children.  He mentions a daughter he's just met.  Julia thinks it is never too late to become close – she and Kensi spent years apart but are close now, though she can't stand the idea of losing Kensi again. Granger asks if she'd like a cup of coffee or some fresh air.  The two leave together. 

Kiu insults DHS for being stupid.  They can't keep track of their money so they pour money into the problem.  "Only an American can be that stupid." Sam thinks that's harsh.  Kiu mentions someone going from Harvard to a small town to work for DHS.  Callen thinks that's interesting and winks at the camera.  Deeks and Nell are startled by the wink, which they are worried is a tick. They also know Harvard is the key. 

Eric found two LA based DHS MBA's from Harvard – Donna Merritt and Edward Lee.  Merritt has no connection to China but a big bank account. Lee immigrated with his parents as an infant.  He never visited China until a few years ago and now he goes twice a year. 

Nell meets with Lee in a coffee shop.  He has a man bun but a charming personality.  Nell asks about the coffee shop.  Lee explains that his girlfriend lives in Shanghai but every time she's in town, they live in this coffee shop.  The girlfriend comes to LA twice a year, he goes to Shanghai twice a year. Nell leaves the coffee shop with Deeks waiting outside.  He wanted a chai tea and gluten free muffin. She brought him nothing. 

Callen and Sam pull up at Donna Merritt's house.  Callen is stiff and sore again.  His calves are killing him.  As they walk to the house, the front door is open – the window is broken.  There are files all over the dining room table and Ming Wah is dead in the kitchen.  Wah was shot twice and Donna Merritt is in the wind. 

Eric explains to Granger that Donna Merritt set up several shell corporations to steal from both Homeland Security and Zhang Kiu.  Granger thinks Harvard would be so proud.  Eric estimates that she's taken about $400 million.  Granger would like to turn Merritt over to Kiu.  Eric also got the toxicology report on Jesse Evans. He was poisoned by a chemical used in the fake purses but Kiu doesn't have access to the chemical – Donna Merritt moved it in her fake companies.  Granger wants the team to find Merritt.

At Merritt's house, Callen and Sam are looking through Merritt's paperwork piles.  Callen says this is why he doesn’t have a lot of belongings.  If someone has to find something at Callen's, "And I have," Sam reminds him, it is right out in plain sight.  "Or fake walls and a steel vault."  Sam realizes the safest place for the black-market items and for Donna Merritt would be her DHS office. 

Callen, Sam, Deeks and Nell arrive at DHS.  There is empty office space in the new DHS office building.  They arrive just as Merritt is being brought out by Kiu's men.  Deeks and Nell enter the building through the back. A storage area is empty – no drugs or fake purses.  In the front of the building, Callen and Sam confront several of Kiu's men.  Deeks sees Merritt being dragged down a hall. He climbs the outside of some stairs and captures one of the men.  The final going after Donna Merritt is knocked out by Nell.  Merritt winds up with the man's gun. 

Callen and Sam corner Donna Merritt with Deeks and Nell catching up.  "So, let me get this straight, we just risked our lives to protect a known traitor?" Nell asks.  Sam agrees but she has info they need.   

In the armory, Nell puts away her weapon.  Granger arrives.  Merritt confessed thinking she'd get a lenient sentence.  She won't.  Granger asks Nell how the day went.  Nell thought it went well but she has big shoes to fill.  Granger agrees.  Nell wants to step up, she wants to be there for Deeks but she doesn't like the reason she's working with him.  Granger asks if that's why she is storing her weapon.  Nell knows Granger is looking for Kensi's replacement.  He tells her he may be but he may not be.  But he wants her to know that she's not Kensi's replacement. She's in the field to honor Kensi. Granger wants "Jones" to call him Granger and not "Assistant Director".  She thinks that's weird but he insists – it's an order.  And a lovely scene.

Hetty arrives at the hospital to find a sleeping Deeks and a still unconscious Kensi.  After calling to Deeks several times as "Mr. Deeks" - and he does not wake up – Hetty yells "Martin!" and Deeks thinks he missed the school bus.  When he sees Hetty, he says "you're not my Mom."  "Oh, hell no," is Hetty's reply.  All is done with great humor and affection.    Deeks is cold, he's pulled his arms out of his shirt sleeves in an attempt to stay warm. Hetty asks about Kensi.  There isn't much to report – she did respond to some pain.  Hetty sends Deeks home – she needs him on his game.  

Deeks kisses Kensi on the forehead and tells her he loves her.  Deeks wishes Hetty a good night and Hetty says "Good night, Martin."  Deeks wants her to go easy on the Martin.  Once Deeks is gone, Hetty tells Kensi she knows Kensi has been through a lot but they need her.  It is time to wake up.  Hetty orders "Miss Blye" to squeeze her hand.  Kensi's hand moves a little.  Hetty tells Kensi to rest.

What head canon can be formed from here:  Granger and Julia would have been interesting.  Hetty barking at an unconscious Kensi was not.

Episode number:   Fourth episode of season eight, 172nd episode overall.

[dedalvs]

Conlang Dialogue, Episode 109, Emerald City

Quite a bit here...

SPI You are Trespass. Pagískua si’o.

SPI Kill. Hi wi’ka.

OJO This fight is mine. Disperse. Toni ni stavuri. La hi barú gaha.

OJO ...Rest and find your strength. We have all the time in the world. ...hi doa hi ‘in ambruri. Ios kou an niu pamiran pa hin.

NAHARA Who is this? Hibí ni?

OJO Interloper. Hi pagískua.

OJO She wants the Stone Giants. Lanú oiru Gunda Juru.

NAHARA I have no words to waste on the mistake that got me here. Nombu tun an hioi an ga ubauri angu niruri an-d-lihuzri tun niu.

NAHARA Does Glinda rise against the Wizard? Kuvon Glinda puli Wízada?

NAHARA Then I return to a world better than the one I left. Lanú diwa suchi tun pa ‘ozu marí puli ‘ozu an mia anjuri tun pa lia.

NAHARA Magic has existed as long as Oz. You don’t stop magic. You stop the person fighting the magic. Mia koa niu vozoku an jalindri an Oza. La inju si’o limiran vozoku. Lanú limiran chala an go stavuri vozoku.

NAHARA Did I choose right with the girl? Mia mon niu tun ki vunduri angu risa?

OJO There are no mistakes. Let me carry you from here. Inju niruri koa. Hi lirazdu tun hi si’o an niu.

NAHARA Here is good. Stay with me. Marí niu. La hi pas a’a tun.

NAHARA Tell me about our son. Hi hio tun angu boku an hini.

OJO He’s twenty and always right. Lia nurischi lanú vundu pamiran.

NAHARA Your looks or mine? Uli an-d-za’oi an doni monala?

OJO Yours. An-d-za’oi.

NAHARA Thank the moon goddess. Kiminda pa hadi olu.

OJO He plans to have a child. Jano lia pa londri zali.

NAHARA Someday? Tani gaha?

OJO Any day. Tani a’a.

NAHARA Ojo. Can there be joy with what’s to come? Hi Ojo. Ga ios kiu soliri ki kougán?

NAHARA What of this man... Can you help him? Von ni dizu... La ambro si’o tanú lia?

SURVIVORS A prick of pain unsettled debt her cries our retribution... Mora hatisatie velzeza ebaatie denna hoalatie inhava lozezatie...

SURVIVORS ...betrayed her sisters wicked tongue contorted and disfigured. ...denna aanenau kozhovun, diina bel iosa leiraarat.

WITCHES Nothing but base magic. Base magic. Ohnun giova ahninalar. Giova ahninalar.

[a-white-crayon]

Before the Sun Rises

note: this is a feature story assignment for my journalism course

---

The sun had not yet risen, but his day had begun. Under the West Kowloon Corridor and along the Tung Chau Street Temporary Market in Sham Shui Po, Ah Shing dragged his bag of treasures to his spot – the corner around the third column. With trembling hands, he carefully placed the goods onto the tattered green rag. MD players, white trainers that had gone yellow, vinyl discs, chipped crockery, you name it. Those items hardly held any value anyway. It was a couple minutes past five a.m., long before breakfast time.

Yet what would be on his breakfast plate was never Ah Shing’s concern, he didn’t have the privilege to think about that. He was like everybody else here in Sham Shui Po, pockets empty, living off Comprehensive Social Security Assitance (CSSA), and living in public rental housing.

Ah Ho was already there, when Ah Shing had yet reached his usual spot. Her goods were neatly laid out on top of the blue and white striped canvas, which was often used in construction sites. There were bomber jackets, faux leather handbags, blankets, worn out trainers… “It’s all good stuff,” she claimed.

 “Come and take a look,” Ah Ho called at the passers-by. “If the stuff isn’t good I won’t sell it.” She was sitting on a tiny plastic stool, a child’s chair, surrounded by rice cookers, tin plates, teapots, and electric kettles. A few plastic food jars were lying around, the ones with flowers drawn on them. They were popular in the 70s.

“You like that plate? It’s only five dollars.” She was referring to an enamel plate, with the classic blue rim and a red chrysanthemum painted in the middle. It was chipped here and there, but it was decent looking, it would work after a much-needed scrub.

Before the daybreak, there are bazaars in various areas in Hong Kong, selling low-cost, often used wares. Selling goods at grassroot bazaars could provide a supplementary source of money for the poor. Financial assistance such as Old Age Living Allowance, Old Age Allowance, and CSSA from the government could not support their living.

The vendors are usually elderlies, or retired middle-aged people. A lot of them were too old to be in the labour market, they were not as able as young workers and they were seldom hired. Up to 2014, 50.7% of the poor population are elderlies. 97200 out of 366000 people live below the poverty line, making the poverty rate in Sham Shui Po 26.6%. The median of monthly household income was merely $2500.

In April, the Daytime Market Concern Group, Support Grassroot Bazaars Alliance, and Concerning CSSA & Low Income Alliance proposed the operation of trial holiday bazaars at the junction of Sham Shui Po’s Kiu Kang Street and Hai Tan Street. The three organisations had conducted a survey on this subject. Out of 201 people who completed the questionnaire, 168 supported the grassroot bazaars. 104 agreed grassroot bazaars could help the poor vendors to make a living.

Ah Ho is one of the regular vendors, she lives alone in an apartment in a tong lau building nearby. “I have been here for two years,” she said. “No one comes around anymore, and when there is people, they are stingy old bums.”

“What are you looking for? I have everything,” she mumbles whilst staring into the empty space, eyes lacking a focus.

An old man came by, rummaging through the things Ah Ho was selling. “What a nice teddy!” He delightedly opened the box of plush toys. “Of course it’s in good quality, I am selling it for fifty dollars.”

The man hesitated for a moment, worried about the price. “I’m not getting it - unless it’s forty (dollars).”

“This is brand new, I don’t sell brand new toys for forty dollars,” Ah Ho shook her hands, “the best I could offer was forty-eight dollars, deal?”

“Stingy old bum,” She muttered under her breath after the man left with his new purchase, stuffing the money into her hip pack. “People nowadays are always sticking out their hands, asking for more and more, but none is willing to do anything for it!”

“CSSA is not enough! Inflation is so serious, prices aren’t going down,” Ah Ho sighed as she picked at a slightly dented can of sardines.

The grass-root bazaars have existed for more than two decades, yet they had not aroused public interest until the recent years. It had also come to the public’s concern that hawker licenses have not yet been granted to any vendors at grassroot bazaars.

Lee Kwok-kuen, a community organsier at Concerning CSSA & Low Income Alliance, agreed that granting hawker licenses to bazaar vendors would benefit the grass-roots in Sham Shui Po. “More and more young people come to these flea markets to look for vintage treasures. This is a good sign.”

At grassroot bazaars, vendors could do business and shoppers to purchase things they need with a low cost. Licensing allows sustainable development of the hawkers, preserving this unique culture.

The street sleepers had woken. Ten of them gathered in a circle and watched two men play chess. The Vietnamese were up too, chattering in their mother tongue, a foreign language to our ears. Their voices were soft, and coarse due to the years of smoking.

A lantern was placed in the middle of a blue tent, lighting up the tiny space. A short-haired woman squatted outside the tent, bare feet, injecting God-knows-what into her swollen ankle with a syringe that did not look it had been properly cleaned.

The sun had not yet risen.

[randomaj-aferoj]

Lesson XLVI - Exercises

Arĥimedo kaj la krono

Archimedes and the crown

Once a well-known king, named Hiero, used to live in a big city in Sicilia, which is to the Southwest of Italy. He suspected that sometimes the crownmakers, who made crowns for him, did not use all the gold given to them by the king, but forged it by using some other material. Nonetheless, Hiero could not by himself find out if the gold was regularly forged.

For that reason, he made a Greek learned man, whose name was Archimedes, come and tell him his fear about the forged gold. Archimedes assured him that he would somehow indeed find out about the forgery, and help the king against the forgers, who were so indifferent to honesty. Everyday he much contemplated on the thing, but the longer he contemplated, the less successful his attempts were, until one day, when he accidentally made an interesting finding. He had just bathed himself, and suddenly noticed that while he himself stayed under the water, for some reason there seemed to be slightly more water than before in the bath. At once he understood that his body had pushed some of the water out of its place. He understood that as much water was pushed out, as there was before in that place where he himself was.

Such a rising of the water with his body gave him a wise idea, and he took in his hand two or three golden crowns. He threw them one after the other into the bath, and carefully noticed to what height all of them raised the water. Then he pulled them out, and introduced the crown about which Hiero was the most suspicious. He noticed that this one did not raise the water so high, so he was sure that the gold in it was falsified to a big extent.

It is said that when he found out this method to show the forgery of the dishonest crownmakers, he jumped out in joy and cried out “eureka,” which is the Greek word for “I have found.” This same word is still much used now in the English language.

Sentences for translation

Antaŭ kelkaj jarcentoj, riĉa kaj multpova reĝo, nomita Hierono, loĝadis en Sikelio.

Iam li estis suspektema pri la kronfarintoj kiuj faris kronojn por li, el la oro, kiun li mem donis al ili.

Li miris ĉu ĉi tiuj viroj estis honestaj.

Li suspektis ke eble ili ne uzas ĉiom de la oro kiu estas donita al ili, sed tenis iom por si.

Li ne povis, per si mem, eltrovi ĉu ili estis falsantaj la oron en liaj kronoj, tial li alvokis saĝan viron el Grekujo.

Al ĉi tiu klerulo, kies nomo estis Arĥimedo, li klarigis siajn timojn.

Arĥimedo certigas la reĝon, ke li iel eltrovos pri la afero.

Li pensadis kelkajn horojn ĉiutage, kaj penis eltrovi kontentigan metodon, sed ial li ne sukcesis.

Tamen unu tagon, kiam li estis sin bananta, li rimarkis ke ŝajnis esti iomege pli akvo en la banujo kiam li mem estis en ĝi, ol antaŭe.

La levo de la akvo donis ideon al li.

Li ĵetis la kronojn unu post la alia en la akvon, kaj rimarkis kiom da akvo ĉiu el ili levis.

Tiamaniere li komprenis kiom ĉiu estis falsita de la lokaj kronfarintoj, kiujn Hierono baldaŭ ĵetis en la malliberejon.

[igaveupfameformotherhood-blog]

25 Year Old’s View on Parenting

Although children may be raised with the same fundamentals; no two children will be parented exactly the same. A parent may feel as though they are raising two siblings exactly the same but these two people are two different personalities and how they take to this parent are completely different. A parent might raise two children the same and one may become very successful and independent whereas the other may be in and out of jail. There is such a crucial point in a child’s life where they absolutely need their parents and how a parent’s choice to do so is incredibly important. There’s nothing more terrifying than to see one’s own child make terrible decisions when they have come to the age of independence and that is why it is a parent’s duty to try everything humanly possible to make decisions to help raise them be able to solve, cope, and get over anything that may be thrown at one in one’s life.

Psychologist Diana Baumrind suggests that there are three types of parenting methods: authoritarian, permissive, and authoritative. The authoritarian parent is one whom almost raises their child as a prisoner; the child has strict rules, no voice, and must do as the parent says without any other options. Whereas the permissive parent does the exact opposite; the child makes their own rules, let’s the child be the boss, and the parent expects the child to make the right decision on their own without having any respect given to them. Then finally the perfect yin and yang balance of both methods is the authoritative. This last method the parents give the children enough room to make mistakes in order to learn from, these parents are respected by their children enough to be listened to, and learn how to become self-reliant.

In an online journal, the bad influences of authoritarian methods are hypothesized to later cause anxiety “The basic and general hypotheses are that a young person's career unreadiness, indecision or myth, sustains anxiety and stems from his or her authoritarian upbringing.”(Cheung & Wu, 20154) This journal outlines that children from a young age have this pressure that is overwhelming enough to cause anxiety in specifically the workplace. Thus this article reveals how authoritarian parenting does not help a child grow into a confident and sure adult, rather an adult whom actively fears failure enough to invoke anxiety.

In another online journal, the connection between permissive parenting and aberrant behavior is outlined, “The available literature suggests that permissive parenting predicts deviant peer affiliation which, in turn, predicts delinquent behaviors.” (Erath, Tu, & Sheikh, 2016). Furthermore, this article suggests that these friends that the children of permissive parent’s make influence them more than their own parents. Therefore, these children are more prone to make bad decisions leading to getting them in trouble.

Lastly, the happy medium of both parenting styles, the authoritative style, “Children of authoritative parents display high self-esteem and tend to be self-reliant, self-controlled, secure, popular and inquisitive” (Hesari, & Hejaz, 2011). With all these adjectives a child can’t seemingly be anything other than successful. Although this style isn’t perfect, it seems as though this style would help the most through all the phases a child goes through. In depth, if a child feels as though they can connect and talk through their problems with their parent it makes the child actually capable of working through their problem. This is not possible with the other parenting styles because the authoritarian scares a child from voicing their opinion, and the permissive parent leaves the child to blame when an adult should have interfered.

 A family that displaces all these types of parenting can be seen with while watching the fictional series Arrested Development with the Bluth family. When the head of the family was around he was the authoritarian parent. Whereas his children decided to raise their own children very differently. Michael Bluth decided to raise his son, George-Michael, with the authoritative method. Whereas Michael’s sister, Lindsay, decided to raise her daughter, Maeby, with the permissive parent method. With both Michael and Lindsay being the same age their diverse way of parenting is made very obvious.

 Personally I think l never took any parenting classes or did any research while I was pregnant because I thought it would shut down my natural instinct to parent my child. As an adult, your understanding of right and wrong should have fully matured so as a parent it is your duty to teach this to your child. It’s too easy to let your children run your life, and it’s way too easy to only have it your way and control them. I’m not sure at what age the transition is from your parent’s mistakes turn into your mistakes;  but at some point the responsibility needs to be taken. Although some people go their whole entire life not taking responsibility and blaming other for their shortcomings. In the long run though, without realizing the wrongs that your parent’s have taken the likability of you making the same mistakes rises exponentially.

  Cheung, Chau-Kiu, Cheung, Hoi Yan, & Wu, Joseph. (2014). Career unreadiness in relation to anxiety and

authoritarian parenting among undergraduates. International Journal of Adolescence and Youth,

19(3), 336-349.

Hesari, & Hejazi. (2011). The Mediating Role of Self Esteem in the Relationship Between

the Authoritative Parenting Style and Aggression. Procedia - Social and Behavioral

Sciences,30, 1724-1730.

Hinnant, J., Erath, B., Tu, S., & El-Sheikh, A. (2016). Permissive Parenting, Deviant Peer

Affiliations, and Delinquent Behavior in Adolescence: The Moderating Role of

Sympathetic Nervous System Reactivity. Journal of Abnormal Child Psychology, 44(6), 1071-1081.

[hongkongdramas]

Lord of Shanghai

It was a huge cast and everyone gave such an amazing performance in this drama. I was impressed with all the actors and how they delivered such great acting in the drama. The three tycoons especially was perfect. 

Kiu Ngo Tin was such a sweet talker and he was so clever in dealing with everyone he was associated with. I really admire his way of doing business and how he used his ability to sweet talk and get close to important people to rise to power. He was devoted to his country and wife and really cherishes friendship and loyalty. Anthony Wong was superb that is why he is such a great actor. But what i dislike is when Kenneth Ma acted as Kiu Ngo Tin’s younger self. Kenneth Ma did a great job but i think he could not pull off the Shanghai accent in which the character is supposed to have so his voice was dubbed in. I was super annoyed by that.... And also the fact that why all the actors that acted in the younger past remained the same in the current era while only Kiu Ngo Tin had to change actors between Kenneth Ma and Anthony Wong??? Wayne Lau, Myolie Wu, Natalie Tong, Louisa So all remained why not Kiu Ngo Tin’s character??

I do not recognize the actor who portrayed Chak Kam Tong but i think Chak Kam Tong’s character is just a poop. LOL Well i said that because he treated Kwai Seng so badly that he deserved to be named poop.. 

Not much for me to review because i cant seem to remember much since i took such a long time to finish. But all in all i really like this drama given the pace and story plot. Actors were amazing and it was really entertaining for me to watch. Great job.

[under-the-lake]

Fenrir and Greyback: a liiiiiiitle digression about werewolves - part 2: Ancient Greece and Rome

I chose a philosopher werewolf for the starting picture this time - or so it looks to me - given that both Ancient Greece and Rome are the cradle of our modern philosophies.

What do werewolves do in Continental European mythology? Well, they bite and contaminate. But not only do they do that. They do much more. It actually depends on where the story belongs to, and when it came out. However, the usual idea is that there’s a curse or an involuntary shape-shifting. Unlike some shape-shifters that can change at will and aren’t necessarily as brutal and cruel as the ‘common’ werewolf, or not brutal and cruel at all. I mean, shape-shifting is common in some shamanic cultures, for instance, but they don’t involve barbaric acts or cruelty towards people. They do involve werewolves though, in the sense that they are indeed wolf-men/women.

I am speaking of ‘continental Europe’ about werewolves because since wolves have been extinct in Britain for centuries now, tales about werewolves didn’t really stick on Albion. The last wolf on the island was killed in Scotland (Pertshire) in 1680, but it’s reported that the last Scottish wolf was seen in the 18th century, and some say one was spotted as late as 1888. The stone that is in the picture below even reads : ‘To mark the place near which the last wolf in Sutherland was killed by the hunter Polson, in or about the year 1700, this stone was erected by His Grace the Duke of Portland, K.C., A.D. 1924’. One thing is sure, though, there aren’t wolves on the British Isles today. There’s been talk about reintroducing them, especially to help biodiversity grow, since it’s been a bit lowered by the growing deer population, which, in the absence of predators, is the real king of the forests. Nothing concrete yet though. Of course that doesn’t mean there’s no werewolf stories on the British Isles, but they are not as important in culture than they are in, say, France or Germany.

While the concept of the werewolf (wer = man, from the Latin vir = man, and wulf, in Old English) is strongly linked to the Middle Ages, the Witch Hunts and the rise of Christianity, men transforming into wolves has been widespread in cultures predating our Middle Ages by far, or in so-called pagan cultures.

The word ‘werewolf’ has an equivalent referring to a shape-shifter in almost each European language. Some have more than one word, though, due to the versatility of the idea (being an actual shape-shifter or ‘simply’ embodying the nature and spirit of the beast), or to the importance of wolves and werewolves in a particular mythology, like the Norse one, for instance. Of course, the word has the well-known synonym of ‘lycanthropy’, from ancient Greek, meaning wolf-man. This particular term hasn’t been used as widely as ‘werewolf’ in vernacular languages, because it’s been linked to a disease by Ancient Greeks. The symptoms were such as ‘too great or ravenous appetite’, and were used by scholars like Galen (it’s not exactly Galen, actually - the text containing this bit about werewolves has been falsly attributed to him). The scholars considered lycanthropy a disease and not a transformation.

There are tales about young men disappearing for nine years and turning into wolves after hanging their clothes on a tree branch, such as told by Pliny the Elder. However, it appears that actually in some ancient tribes, young men were initiated to hunting magic by being taught by ‘wolves’, returning to their village nine years later, fully grown men, ready to marry and start a family. Hard to find anything but ‘it is said that’-stuff anywhere though…. So let’s just jump into the subject without further ado.

Ancient Greece and Rome with a little detour

What we, in a christian civilisation, call pagan* civilisations or societies (I hate just saying ‘pagan’ societies. We are all pagan to someone - *see footnote about spelling.) have often had wolf or wolfish creatures as gods. We often think, in central Europe - that is, if you’re not learnt in that subject, which I’m definitely not - that Mediterranean civilisations don’t have wolves. We associate wolves with cold and winter and The North. So definitely not Greece or Italy. Yet that’s a mistake - and for instance, I know there are wolves in the Apennine, but I never associated that with tales or folklore and now I come to think of it, it feels totally weird.. Today, two species of wolves roam the Mediterranean region: the Golden Jackal (Canis aureus, Linnaeus 1758), the Grey Wolf (Canis lupus, Linnaeus 1758). I counted the Jackal among the wolves because we are talking human to animal transformation and not strictly biology, and anyway they are both of the genus Canis so they are brother-species. They are sympatric in some regions, but mostly parapatric, the Jackal inhabiting more desertic and hot places like the northern part of the Sahara desert (first map), whereas the wolf is typically a wood-dweller (second map).

Wolves have not always been seen as something evil, but there’s often been a threat associated to them. Ancient Greece knew a festival called the Lykaia, the main Arcadian festival, dating back to before 3000 B.C.l. It was held on Mount Lykaion (the Wolf-Mount, see picture below) and involved the young men of the tribe, the epheboi. Mount Lykaion has been a sacred mount in Greek civilisation, and is also one of the candidates to be the birthplace of Zeus. As for the Lykaia, it’s an ancient ritual during which an animal would be sacrificed to the god (a weather god, and later Zeus, who along with being the boss, was also the god of thunder and lightning). A single piece of human entrail would be mingled into the animal’s. Some like Pliny the Elder relate that there was actually human sacrifices. He was speaking centuries after the events. No remains of human bones have been found there to this day though, meaning archaeologists haven’t been able to confirm or infirm the statement. As we know, flesh isn’t easily preserved…. HOWEVER I stumbled upon this while looking for pictures for this paper: a publication of the Greek-US research team who are working on the Mount Lykaion site have discovered a human tomb complete with bones and all in the middle of the central altar on Mount Lykaion… the remains are currently being studied but if the boy wasn’t sacrificed, there was at least something important related to humans there, given the prominent position of the grave…  So. Back to thema. It’s said that whoever eats a morsel of the sacrificial mix gets transformed into a wolf and can only return to their human form after nine years , at the date of the next festival, on the sole condition that they didn’t consume human flesh in the interval. This seems like the first ever mention and foundation of the myths of werewolves in Europe.

In Ancient Rome, there was a pastoral festival in February, called the Februa (‘purge, cleansing’) which  later became the Lupercalia . The idea was to purify people and the city. The festival started and ended at the Lupercal, the cave in which the she-wolf (Lupa) had fed Romulus and Remus. A goat or a dog were sacrificed to Lupercus but also to Lupa. Yet from what I read, that’s where the comparison ends. The people actually run naked in the town with only a goat skin, which is due to the fact that a lupercus is the Roman version of the Greek god Pan, the faunus.

To make a small detour outside Greece and Rome, let’s mention that wolf-human descent or having a wolf as a tribe ancestor is something quite widespread. Genghis Khan (1162-1227), for instance, claimed his tribe stemmed from Bortä-Chino, the blue wolf, who represented the sky. The mother of the tribe would be a Doe who represented the earth. They would be the Khan dynasty ancestors. We also know that the Turkish people has a wolf in its history: the Hiongnu people was slaughtered and one only child survived, by chance. It was rescued by a she-wolf who fed him. The she-wolf became his wife and they gave birth to the first of the Tu-Kiu people, namely the first Turkish folks. The cave where the she-wolf fed the boy was a place of worship in which the king made a yearly sacrifice to commemorate the deed.

Yet the Lykaia story is probably the best foundation we have for the myths of werewolves in central Europe. There are of course other stories. And here I’ll tell you five: the famous Lycaon one, and then I’ll mention a Virgil poem, and a couple of other tales by Pliny and Petronius briefly.

Lycaon

In Ancient Greece, the closest to what we now consider a werewolf is told in the story of Lycaon. There are many accounts of the tale, but all involve Lycaon serving Zeus human flesh (often one of his own sons) to test his being omniscient, and most of them have Lycaon transformed into a wolf and a lot of people destroyed by lightning.

I’ll tell you a short version of the story found in Ovid’s Metamorphoses: At the beginning of times, Zeus found himself angry at how the people on Earth were behaving. He decided to go and see for himself if the reports he was given were true. He transformed into a man, and roamed the country, always giving certain signs to show his arrival. When he was arriving to Lycaon’s kingdom, people were praying, like everywhere else, being humble and grateful to see the king of gods.

However, Lycaon wasn’t. He already had the reputation of being a savage and ferocious monster. He didn’t trust the man to be a god, so he decided to test him. He had some prisoners, beheaded one of them, cut him in two and boiled one part while roasting the other. He then served these dishes to Zeus, to see if he was omniscient and could discern the falsehood. Zeus could, of course, and made the house crumble down as a punishment. Lycaon had escaped, though, but was heard howling in the countryside, vainly trying to speak. He turned his fury and viciousness onto beasts, slaying some, and thus becoming more of a wolf each minute, growing fur, not walking on hind legs anymore but on four legs. He became a wolf. However, he kept from his original self the fury and ferociousness.

In this version, we can imagine the story goes in reverse for Greyback, in HP. He keeps part of his werewolfish traits when he is a humanoid (for want of a better word). In both instances, though, the traits are viciousness, cruelty and fury. Both also keep something physical of their previous life: Lycaon, according to Ovid, keeps the colour of his hair, and the fierce eye he had before, whereas Greyback is more furry and has that will of biting that remain throughout the month, and maybe some cannibalism. Both characters are vicious from the start, though. You can’t serve human flesh or develop a taste for biting and killing for pleasure if you aren’t rotten to the core…. Or at least so much that it’s sort of irreversible.

Moeris

In Roman literature, we have a poem by Virgil, written in 39 B.C. and called Alphesiboeus, in which the author describes the situation where a man called Moeris makes some sort of potion out of herbs and turns into a werewolf, to

‘ [...] hide

Within the woods, oft call forth spirits from their deep-dug graves,

And charm away to other fields whole harvests of sown corn.’

It’s one of the earliest references to werewolves. Some of the ideas here might have helped build the medieval idea of werewolf transformation, that often required some magical balm to be applied on the body. Virgil doesn’t make Moeris a bad man whereas the medieval thought was that the werewolf was an agent of the Devil or at least manipulated by him. However, it is thought today that it was only hallucinations on the part of Moeris, and that the herbs he took had some drug-like effect on his brain, addling it enough to make him believe he was one.

The main trait of this werewolf is that he is able to raise dead spirits and spoil harvests. Greyback doesn’t have such traits, nor does Lupin. The only thing they have in common is that while being werewolves, they are inhuman, and are therefore able to do things humans wouldn’t. Moeris can awake the dead and perform some kind of magic, whereas werewolves ‘just’ bite and contaminate other humans.

The Thief and the Innkeeper

This is a fable by Aesop (5th century B.C.), and while the moral is that not all tales are to be believed, it still depicts some of the ‘usual’ traits of the werewolf. Here’s a summary:

A thief hired a room in an inn, in the hope of stealing something worthy enough, that would help him pay for his stay. After some days of fruitless waiting, he saw the innkeeper dressed in a beautiful new coat, sitting at his door. The thief came and sat down next to the innkeeper. The conversation went on nicely for a while and then began to flag. The thief started to yawn and at the same time began to howl like a wolf. The innkeeper asked him what happened, and the thief told his story: ‘First hold my clothes, sir, or I shall tear them into pieces. I don’t know when I got this habit of yawning, nor why these yawning crises were inflicted on me as a punishment or for any other reason. What I do know is that when I yawn and howl for the third time, I actually turn into a wolf and attack men.’

Then he started a second series of yawning and again howled like a wounded wolf. The innkeeper got scared, rose from his seat and attempted to run away, but the thief had got hold of his coat. The thief said: ‘pray, sir, wait and hold my clothes or I shall tear them apart in my fury when I turn into a wolf.’ At the same moment he yawned for the third time and set up a terrifying howl. The innkeeper, scared out of his wits, left his coat in the thief’s hands and ran for his life. He barricaded himself into the inn. The thief walked away with his new coat. Every tale is not to be believed.

In this tale the werewolf is only told to be howling and there’s a hint of the man being cursed. Even if it’s a downright lie to the innkeeper, it is probably still based on some sayings that were common at the time. You don’t just make up such things.

If we compare with the HP werewolves, Lupin indeed considers being a werewolf a curse, and the wounds are said to be cursed in Bill’s case. Greyback, on the other hand, transformed this curse into a strength and a want of revenge (can’t bring myself to say he turned it into anything positive). He must be a very sad person deep inside.

Versipellis - A change of skin

According to Pliny the Elder in his Natural History, people can change skin, and he tells a story to explain the origin of the name ‘versipellis’. He tells about an Arcadian tribe from which a boy is chosen to swim across a lake after having suspended his clothes on an oak, and by reaching the other shore he’d transform into a wolf. He’d be living amongst his fellows for nine years, and after that time, if he hadn’t touched humans, he would be able to swim back, take his old clothes from the oak and get back to human form, only nine years older.

Pliny concludes with ‘how far can the credulity of the Greeks go!!’. One could think it’s about the shape-shifting, but that’s most unlikely, since many other beasts are discussed in the Natural History, like dragons and basiliks, and Pilny is completely fine with them. So he’s not actually ruling out the werewolf per se, I reckon. He probably thinks the literary conventions are too laughable for him. Getting to your old clothes after nine years and finding them where you left them and in a wearable condition seems too far-fetched, whereas fantastic beasts are totally all right...

A Graveyard story

Petronius (1st century A.D.), in his Satyricon, 61-62, gives another account about werewolves, that again displays some of the traits that will pass down to our medieval stories. Here’s the bit about werewolves:

[Two men are walking along the road, the narrator and a soldier, who was a guest in the house. They are going to visit a lover, Melissa.]

We were walking at about cockcrow, the moon shining full, and soon came about the tombstones [they were alongside the road], and my man went to look at the epitaphs, while I sat down and began to count the graves. When I looked back at my friend, he was taking off all his clothes and putting them by the roadside. I was feeling sick, but I didn’t budge. I was rooted to the spot. My friend peed around his clothes, in a ring, and then suddenly turned into a wolf. Believe me, I wouldn’t lie about this to save my life. After he had turned into a wolf, he began to howl, and run off to the woods. I got up and went to take his clothes after having recovered from the first shock, but couldn’t, because they had turned into stone. I was freaking out in terror, but I drew my sword and went to my lover’s home, slaying shadows on the way. When I reached her house, I was feeling like a corpse, sweating all over and hardly to be revived. My dear Melissa was surprised to see me up so late, and told me that earlier a wolf had come and worried all the sheep, attacking them and bleeding them like a butcher. He didn’t win completely, though, because the slave had made a hole in his throat with a spear. When I heard this I couldn’t sleep at all, but on daybreak I went home to my master’s house and when I came to the gravestones along the road, the clothes weren’t there anymore, but there was a pool of blood. When I reached home the soldier was lying in bed, with a doctor looking after his neck. Then I realised he was a werewolf. I never could have a meal with him afterwards.

What comes out of this story is the cruelty, the sort of free boundless cruelty of werewolves. That links without hesitation this story with Greyback, who actually enjoyed it. There’s no hint about that soldier liking it or not.

There’s the full moon, which is the first mention I have seen of it in the texts I’ve read. I’m not much learnt into the subject so if anyone knows of an earlier mention of the changing occurring at full moon please comment below, thank you.

There are also some of the signs that are going to be used in medieval accounts, like the peeing in a circle around the clothes. Also, the fact that you take off your clothes is something that is going to be a medieval trait as well, whereas ‘modern’ depictions don’t care much about that. Lupin, in PoA, doesn’t take his clothes off before turning into a werewolf (yet that might be because he was taken by surprise), but neither does he ever mention him ‘changing’ when he talks about the shape-shifting. As for Greyback, well we know he bites even when the moon isn’t full, which means he’s wearing clothes all the time.

I never saw clothes turn into stones in the other stories I’ve read though. Usually it’s the one thing that can be taken or burnt or destroyed in any way to either save the werewolf or prevent him from turning back to human again. It’s the first time I saw that version.

What can we draw as a first set of conclusions here?

Well, we have the first foundations of the Central European idea of werewolves in the sacrifices on Mount Lykaion in Greece some millennia ago, and some developments of their characters. The ‘taking-off the clothes’ is common to many of those tales, but surviving apparently only into the Middle Ages (see later), in both Christian and non-Christian stories, though with different meanings and powers. Full moon appears in Roman times, un-human traits as well like some sort of magic that can recall the dead, beastly cruelty though is there from the start and seems to be the main link between all those werewolf accounts. It is also the one, along with full moon, that has survived until today, and that Rowling used in her books.

Footnote:

* It has been pointed to me that the word ‘pagan’ should be written with a capital letter because ‘it’s a religion’. I chose not to write it like that for many reasons: First, for me, pagan is not a religion. It’s a word coined by Catholics to define all the religions ‘by default’, whatever their number of gods or other deities, beliefs and structure, by sort of denial, for not being catholic. As if there were nothing better than being a Catholic, and that it’s the only legitimate religion. That was the basic way of thinking not so long ago, and I know many people still think like that, but it’s not the case for me. To me, calling all other religions than Christian ‘pagan’ is discrimination. Second, because that word groups together beliefs and customs and philosophies and society structures that are so different from each other that I can’t use one single word to name them. They all stem from different roots, were born in different parts of the world, grew up often independently of each other, and I feel that if I use one word to name them it’s saying they are a group of ‘undefined societies not fitting with mine’ and I definitely don’t agree with that. Thirdly, and more pragmatically, on a grammatical point of view, there’s no reason to capitalise the ‘p’ in ‘pagan’ because it’s not pointing to a particular religion; it’s an adjective. No dictionary writes it with a capital letter.

Sources for part 2:

Page 394

Asma Stephen T., On Monsters - An Unnatural History of our Worst Fears, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2009

Landry Jean-Marc, Le Loup: Biologie, moeurs, mythologie, cohabitation, protection… Delachaux et Niestlé, Paris, 2001

Lecouteux Claude, Elle courait le garou - Lycanthropes, hommes-ours, hommes-tigres, une anthologie, José Corti, Paris, 2008

Ovide, Les Métamorphoses, Garnier-Flammarion, 1966, pp. 46-48

Rowling, Joanne K., Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Bloomsbury, London, 1999

Aulagnier, S., et al., Guide des mammifères d’Europe, d’Afrique du Nord et du Moyen-Orient, Delachaux et Niestlé, Paris, 2010, pp. 100-101

Encyclopedia Mythica: werewolf: http://www.pantheon.org/articles/w/werewolf.html

Live Science: http://www.livescience.com/24412-werewolves.html

Encyclopedia Britannica: https://www.britannica.com/art/werewolf

Wikipedia, Lupercalia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lupercalia

The werewolf in Ancient Greece: http://www.jasoncolavito.com/blog/the-werewolf-in-ancient-greece

Werewolves: the myths and the truths: http://alam25.tripod.com/first.htm

Virgil’s werewolf: http://www.werewolves.com/virgils-werewolf/

Plato: Republic, 565, d)-e) http://www.inp.uw.edu.pl/mdsie/Political_Thought/Plato-Republic.pdf

Lykaia festival: https://prezi.com/fru8ahbadfps/the-mysterious-ritual-of-lykaia/

Aesop’s fables: http://www.aesopfables.com/cgi/aesop1.cgi?sel&TheThiefandtheInnkeeper

Pliny the Elder, The Natural History, chapter about wolves  : http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.02.0137%3Abook%3D8%3Achapter%3D34

Petronius, The Satyricon 61-62: http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A2007.01.0027%3Atext%3DSatyricon%3Asection%3D61

News Network Archaeology, new finds at Mount Lykaion: https://archaeologynewsnetwork.blogspot.ch/2016/08/human-burial-found-in-middle-of.html#tvw3SbRkGybf2akI.97

[kiutb]

eats concrete and loves women

original below (and some extra comments)

HI-RISE artificer and hunter are very very good friends and are normally always seen talking or doing stuff together

neither actually have any romantical interest in one another, they're just really good friends and help eachother reach their goals, whether it be relationship stuff or just helping one another through rough times

hunter is interested in saint and rivulet arti is interested in spearmaster

theyre just Homies:tm:

[kiutb]

oo i dont have anthro designs or a good idea for outfits for my scugs just yet but! i shall send question

how did hunter and saint meet in hi rise? how did they get to know each other?

SoS isn't dead, but she has gone missing, hence Hunter and Saint growing a much deeper bond in Squad 7 than they did with SoS around - it became much more "raw" and less forced to Saint... that, and she felt a particular urge to see where Hunter's journey would lead him.

They didn't immediately hit it off. But they grew a deeper bond over the course of their time with SoS and as Squad 7, which inevitably ended up dragging Rivulet into the ordeal too - creating the RGB Hi-Rise timeline we have now.

As an added note, Saint fights using Arcana, so that they can actually participate in the story.

Oh, and if you do end up giving me outfit designs I can attempt to make my own spin on yours, if you ever choose to do so!

[kiutb]

does this au hunter have rot

like can she turn into HLL and eat someone

"The 'HLL' state's scary. Even to me. It's terrifying to think of, and I don't want to think about it... though I guess you gotta know your own enemy."

[kiutb]

heres a slightly outdated hirise saint since i dont believe ive posted this yet.

only real outdated thing is more details + longer hair, lashes.

she's a mage/uses arcana. not much else to explain

also, older art

[kiutb]

"Your time is also mine."

hi-rise rivulet. fast, knives and time manipulation? where have i heard THAT before?

a little sneak at what hi-rise actually is its very fashionable scugs the AU

[thefamily]

“Who did this to you.” Interlude

This was inspired by this this! Thank you @whumpster-dumpster​ for letting me use it.

https://whumpster-dumpster.tumblr.com/post/180738459087/character-a-tilting-character-bs-chin-up-to-get-a

A/N: Edited and a minor change or two.

(Word Count:2137)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Jack was stumbling through the forest, his vision slightly blurry with his cheek still ringing and his body hurting, whether it was from the emptiness or the fall down the stairs. He doesn’t know, probably both to be honest. He wanders aimlessly through the forest not focusing on anything, wanting nothing more than to be with Liru right now. He can feel himself getting dizzier the more he walks, until he comes across a clearing with a bunch of trees that had all fallen over outward from the center of them. But he doesn't think about that. He falls to his knee’s coughing like mad and almost instantly he can see splotches of blood on the grass.

‘Oh. That's not good.’

Once he stops coughing, there is a small stain of blood in the grass. He doesn't even acknowledge it as he pulls himself up onto a fallen tree and sits on it. He hugs himself, leaning over letting blood drip from his mouth, trying not to breathe it in. He chokes back a sob, not wanting to make the pain worse as he thinks about what Mrs. Blanchfield did. He can’t stop the feeling of the hand hitting across his face, the force from it was enough to knock him down the stairs. Without even thinking, he ran out the door as fast he could ignoring the pain shooting through his entire body.

He feels Liru’s presence before he sees her and his heart begins to pound, ‘Nonononono please don’t let her see me like this.’

“Jack?”

‘Shit.’ He slowly looks up at her and he feels his heart flutter ever so slightly when he sees her face, which has a look of confusion written all over it which quickly changes to one of surprise then fury before falling emotionless. He quickly looks back down at the ground, the dead grass crunching beneath her bare feet as she stops right in front of him.

“Jack,” He flinches slightly, curling in on himself a bit “look at me.” Her tone leaves no room for argument. He takes a deep shaky breath, wincing in pain as he does, wipes the blood from his mouth and looks up at her. She immediately puts a knuckle under his chin tilting his head up more as she examines it and he can feel blood begin to drip down his chin again as she does. Her eyes flick down to the blood and she gently wipes it away before bringing it up to her face, saying nothing as she examines it.

After a second or two, he feels his heart skip a nervous beat as she looks him dead in the eyes. Her voice is quiet and tense, her anger barely restrained as clouds begin to circle overhead.

“W͟h̕o̢ did̢ th̡is̶ tò ͞you̡?”

He swallows nervously, not sure if he should tell her. He eyes the blade of her scythe that's strapped to her back, despite the very being of his soul screaming at him to tell her, but the thing in my head was screeching at him not to.

“Jąck.̛”

“Mrs. Blanchfield.” The words tumble out of before he can even process the tone in her voice, a promise of pain and hellfire.

“And who exactly is this… w̛oman?” His heart speeds up a bit as she spits out the word like it was poison. He swallows nervously wincing a bit, trying not to gag as the coppery blood runs down his throat.

“S-She’s the o-orphanage caret-taker.” He flinches slightly at a low growl that seems to shake the world around them. Before he could begin to look around she grabbed his hand, pulled him up and began pulling him away from the field. At her touch he can feel just how chaotic her mind is, the fury that's causing it reminding much of the time Henrik became enraged.

“W-Where are we going?” He quietly curses himself for stuttering as she continues to pull him along, although he’s more following her than anything.

“Home, I’m not letting you go back to those monsters.” Her words almost immediately calm him down.

“Oh, okay.” The thought of being around her everyday, never having to go back to that hellhole, it brought a comfort he hasn't felt since before Henrik left. Before Henrik's promise rang through his head causing panic to grip his very being.

“WAIT!”

Liru stops in her tracks at his shout, his mind cold from whose ever voice that rang through it. She feels herself grow cold at the thought of him wanting to go back.

‘No. Please no, it’s not safe, please.’

“I-I have to go back.” His voice is small and quiet as he speaks, and her shoulders drop as her stomach falls. ‘No…’

“Jack…” My voice cracks as I whisper, not wanting to turn to him.

“Please Liru, I need to go back.” His voice desperate as she forces herself to look at him. He was swaying in his spot slightly, his free arm wrapped tightly around his stomach, hand gripping his now blood stained shirt, bruises beginning to form already, especially the still welted hand print of the side of his face. A primal anger rises in her at the sight of it wanting nothing more than to tear apart the woman responsible for it.

“After what that monster did to you?” Her voice is shaking with barely contained rage as she looks him in the eyes, one of them bloodshot. He flinches at the sound of anger making it quickly melt away into sadness and ignored rejection.

“You’re covered in bruises and blood, Jack. You’re not safe there.” She can’t keep the begging from her voice, it cracks like a glass jar thrown against a rock.

“You look like you were thrown down the stairs!” She’s fighting back tears now, the desperation growing with every breath.

“I-I’m fine, I just fell when I was leaving.” He looks her dead in the eye, pleading look never disappearing.

“Please… I need to go back.” His eyes are filled with unshed tears and her resolve breaks. She grabs his hand gently pulling him to her as she steps closer to him. He stumbles a little as he does and he has a confused and almost hopeful look that she can’t look at. Looking at the ground, she uses her other hand to reach up and cup the back of his head, her entire body slouched in defeat and melancholy.

“Liru?” He asks with confusion and worry clear in his voice. She don’t reply whispering,

“Sopor.” Under her breath. And just like that, he falls limp against her as he sleeps. She quickly wraps her arms under his and as gently as she can, sliding down to her knees as she lays him against the grass. As she lays him down, the trees around them open their eyes, revealing glowing white sap as the faint smell of discarded flesh lingers in the air. They don’t say anything but she knows they’re watching them.

She runs a hand over Jack, muttering a diagnostic spell under her breath as she does. It takes every ounce of control she has not to lose her temper right then and there. She looks at his face and even asleep he looks like he’s in pain. She puts a hand on his cheek rubbing her mark gently before beginning to sing.

“Flower gleam and glow.”

She can’t heal him too much. She doesn't want him to get suspicious. She can’t lose him too.

“Let your power shine.”

She feels relief wash over her as she watches as pieces of the cosmos flow through him, the collage of colors making him look like a young Divine as the forest floor beneath him begins to grow at a rapid pace, grass and flowers growing up and lightly wrapping around him.

“Make the clock reverse.”

The collectors around them are creaking, speaking to each other curiosity radiating from them as they stare at the human and Divine, and she understands why. With Jack laid on the grass and with her hunched over him with a hand on his cheek healing him. It must be quite a sight to see her interacting with a person from a race she despises.

“Bring back what was mine.”

She forces herself to not continue but thankfully he’s healed enough where he’s only kinda bruised and no longer bleeding internally. How he managed to get all the way out here without dying is beyond her. It’s at least a six hour walk but… he didn’t sense him until he was in the field… she quickly shakes any of those thoughts away. 

‘I can deal with it later. Right now I need to take him back.’ Liru goes to pick him up before she freezes, realizing it’s not a good idea for her not to take him. If she went to that village right now she’d burn it to the ground. She looks back at Jack knowing she only has one choice for help right now. She takes a deep breath before shouting,

“Σπαθί!!!” Within seconds the shadow creature is next to her on all fours.

“Saluton, saluton, saluton. Ho! Kio estas tio?” The creature, roughly the size of a human man crawling on all fours with both arms and legs bent more like a horse’s than a humans, is staring down at both Jack and her.

“Ĉu ĉi tio estas la malgranda homo, kiu ŝtelis la koron de la malgranda reĝino?” It leans over to sniff him but she quickly smacks him on his side.

“Cut that out I need help.” 

“Ho?” Now she definitely has its attention.

“Yes. I need help I know, weird right?” Sarcasm is dripping from her voice before she takes a deep breath.

“Look, I just need help getting him back to the village. And if I go there now, I’m going to l͟ęv̕el ̧it.” She winces a little at the way her voice changes, loathing it when it does that. It’s too much like a void demon’s.

“Tiam faru ĝin.” The malicious joy radiating from it nearly makes her cave to satisfy her own blood lust.

“I can’t. Not yet. Not until he finally gives that place up.” It gives off the same energy of someone rolling its eyes before it looks down at Jack.

“Can you take him back?” It’s head snaps to her, shock over taking it for a second before it throws its head back, letting out a blood curdling laugh, sounding more like a dying hell-hound than anything. When it finally stops she can hear what she assumes is it’s mouth, form into a toothy grin before stretching one arm out straight and it’s arm lets out a sick cracking sound as it’s ‘bones’ flipping around. She cringes at the sound and it scoops up Jack in it’s arm cradling him to it’s chest.

“Kaj tiel la eta reĝo iras hejmen.”

“It’s not his home. He’s made that very clear.” Her voice is nothing more than a whisper as she pushes herself up, the grass curling around her fingers before she pulls them away, standing up.

“For mi iras.” And just like that they were gone. Once they were gone the Collectors began to talk amongst themselves again. She hadn’t even realized they stopped. She looks around one last time before closing her eyes and focusing on her… home?

‘Is it home without him?’

When Liru opens her eyes again, she’s thankfully in her room but completely drained of any energy she might have had left after today. She flops onto her bed, too exhausted to keep everything hidden. Her wings sprawl out around her on the round bed, her tail joining them as it curls around her making a small rattling sound as it moves. She’s laying face down as her horns come out weighing down her head a little, and finally her scales come out and her eyes change the gold and red scales uncomfortable under the clothes she’s too tired to remove.

She's so close to dozing off when the door is lightly pushed open. Moving her head so she can look to see what entered her room, she’s almost immediately greeted by Izzy hopping onto the bed, a squeaky meow leaving her as she tries to move past Liru’s wings without stepping on them. She drags them out of the way in which the puffball goes over to her throat and paws at the part of her cloak around her neck until it comes undone and Izzy slides underneath it on her back, knocking the scythe to the floor.

Liru laughs lightly, closing her eyes again and yawning, muttering under her breath,

“Please be okay Jack.” Not noticing Riptide’s head poking through the door as Izzy purrs her to sleep.

Translations:

Sopor = Sleep

Saluton, saluton, saluton. Ho! Kio estas tio?? = Hello, hello hello. Oh! What's this?

Ĉu ĉi tio estas la malgranda homo, kiu ŝtelis la koron de la malgranda reĝino. = Is this the little human that's stolen the little queen's heart?

Tiam faru ĝin. = Then do it.

Kaj tiel la eta reĝo iras hejmen. = And so the little king goes home.

For mi iras. = Off I go.

Spade is Σπαθί

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