#lolha

[avisafterall]

made this blog for my writing, but i don't yet have anything shareable for the book i'm working on now... so (beside this being a call to the void to connect with other writers on tumblr hi hello) i thought i'd share an old story with OLD versions of some of the wayfarers characters!

this is back from one of the first iterations of their story - a more superhero-esque universe, where a small percentage of kids born after a certain year were born with innate Gifts (powers) that ranged from simple enhancements, like a perfect memory, to dramatic physiological alterations, like turning into shadows - these Gifts are taxonomized in levels, with Level 5 being the mundane and 1 the extraordinary, guidelines permitting. this is not a super unique premise, but it's one i always eat tf up because who doesn't love cool powers c'mon

this particular story features lolha, back when she was a level 4 (psionic) with Empathic Insight before I changed her to being a Level 0 (unidentified, ooooh), and fitz, a level 1 (enhancement) with Enhanced Dexterity. of course, these labels mean nothing to their characters as they exist in Wayfarers (a realistic, no-magic adventure saga), but it still carries my idea of who they are and how they engage with their identities.

fitz and lolha have always been a tough duo for me to nail down. they're very similar in that they're stubborn, outspoken ride-or-dies, but very different in how they approach the world - lolha, with dedication, rigor, and a healthy dose of rule-breaking, and fitz with a lackadaisical optimism that forms the protective exoskeleton of a rather unforthcoming character. they're besties, they're worsties, they're found family, they would die for each other and they're always at each other's throats.

regardless, fitz is a FUN character for me because she is SO chatty but says so little about herself, down to the ultimate reservation of never sharing her first name. in this story, i ignored my better judgement and any sense of storytelling for the greater narrative to brainstorm a scenario in which lolha's power - empathic insight, a sort of divination or mind reading via others' feelings - works differently than how she interprets and reveals a snippet of a very buried memory. hehe!

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. 

The rain is warm on her face but sharp, falling in sheets that slice through the dense treetop overhead. 

Her heart races in her chest, blood rushing through her ears and branches snapping underfoot. The forest doesn’t have a footpath, and frustration wells up inside her, stuck in her throat with all the cries she’s swallowed since she first started running. Thunder and pounding footsteps and the acrid burn of fear are overwhelming, clawing at her senses as soon as she’s gathered them, but just like every other time she’s ended up in this nightmare, they’re never the first thing she focuses on.

“My hands are bleeding,” she tells Mischell, her voice wavering. “They’re wrapped up, and- I must have hurt them again on my way out.” 

The bandages were white once, she knows that much. She has a faint memory of gentle touches at her wrists, the ghost of concern pulling gauze across scored hands, pain ebbing away under the touch. She can see pristine fibers peeking through even now, but they’re scarce between grime and blooming stains of deep red. The skin beneath the wraps is aflame. Whatever recovery her palms had made has been ripped open in her escape. Despite every other pressing concern, this fact alone is enough to make her eyes prick with tears.  

“Your way out?” Mischell repeats.

“Out. I’m leaving. Today’s the only chance I’ll have in a long time, I think, and I can’t wait until the next.” 

“I see.” Pen against paper pierces the forest for a split second. “Why today?” 

Thunder cracks overhead, and she looks to the canopy, squinting as the rain falls harder. “It’s a storm. The biggest one we’ve had in years. Everyone was talking about it, how they’re scared it’ll tear a house down or something. No one is going to follow me out here- they might even think I’m dead. They might never look for me again.”

“But they may be looking now.” She flinches against the rain. Her racing step has paused, but his words light urgency in her chest once more. “Have you considered that you might die, if the storm is so bad?”

And urgency flickers out, just for a second. “I’ll still have gotten out.”

-- 

Seren is silent when she visits them next. 

“We’re almost done,” Lolha says finally. The park is the only one on school grounds, near the edge of the campus and cut off by thick woods. There’s a single park bench they sit on to meet with Seren, dressed in identical uniforms, save for Fitz’s gloves. Seren, perched on the edge of the bench, the toes of her shoes poised in the mulch to sprint, just nods. 

“It’s taking us longer than we expected.” Lolha clears her throat. “But we’ve got a plan. We’ll need to do it soon- do you know when you can get away?” 

Seren’s eyes are locked on the main school building. “I’m not sure.” 

Fitz sends a short glance at the same time Lolha grits her teeth. 

“Well- actually…” Seren straightens up, her eyes flickering to the sky. “Actually, there’s a storm coming.”

Fitz’s glance is longer this time. “A storm,” she repeats. 

“I think. One of the girls is- her Gift is something to do with storms or rain, I don’t know, and they have her on lockdown for the next week. I heard some Track Two girls talking about it.”

The memory of rain and blood mingling on her palms sends a shudder down Lolha’s spine. 

 --

“I’m wearing pants.” 

She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know Mischell tilts his head. “Important details, Lolha. Focus on what’s driving-“

”It is important.” 

Mischell goes silent, the scratch of pen paused.  

“I don’t usually wear them,” she explains, breathless, and in her mind’s eye she spares a moment to feel the waistline, fingering the rough belt around her middle. “They don’t fit me quite right. They’re big, and I- I tied them with rope. I couldn’t run in the skirt.” 

Furious scribbles cut through the downpour in her ears, Mischell taking down notes faster than she can finish them. Her clothes are soaked through, clinging to her skin, slick against the burlap pack pressed to her back, but the urge to peel the cloth away as she idles is overrun the instant she hears rustling behind her. It’s quiet - everything is muffled in the downpour - but hot, prickling fear crawls up her throat. 

“Someone is out here,” she whispers. “Someone is looking for me.” 

“Who?” 

“I don’t know.” But she does. Somewhere deep inside the memory is a name, a face. She searches for it in the gaps between trees, eyes flitting wildly, chest heaving, and prays she won’t find the answer. That she won’t fall prey to whatever is hunting her. “It’s a man. Older, I think.” 

“Your father?” 

She turns the word over in her head, but before she can answer, another step rings out behind her, and she’s sprinting again without a second thought. 

The rustles behind her turn to thuds, crashes against the ground that echo in her ears between her racing heart. 

“Lolha,” Mischell’s voice cuts through, calm, even. He’s at ease beyond the forest and frustration bubbles up in her chest, a scream lodged in her throat, help me or get out of my way. “What’s happening? Who is it?” 

“He’s behind me,” she grits out, “chasing. He’ll- if he catches me-” 

“How close is he?” 

She strains her ears, swallowing panic to focus on the rapid footfall approaching, and a shard of something almost hopeful settles inside her. “Close,” she says, “but I’m quick, much quicker than him, and steady.” 

Mischell is silent. When he speaks again, what feels like hours later, his voice is hushed. “Steady?”

Her hands are trembling in her lap, bleeding heavier in her mind, but her voice is even. She takes a deep breath and sees the forest floor is a blur underfoot. 

“I’m bleeding. There’s things in the way- rocks, and roots.” She swallows fear down, breathes out her one victory. “But I never trip. Not once.” 

--

Rolling stormclouds are gathering in the sky above them. Fitz glances up at them every so often, her eyebrows furrowed together. 

“She should be out by now.” That furrowed look turns to Lolha. “She said she’d be out here by now to meet us. We told her the right building, didn’t we?”

“The fieldhouse,” Fitz confirms, turning back to face the forest and crossing her arms. There’s nothing between the trees - no chase scene yet, even as Lolha searches for racing shadows and listens for running in the leaves - but Fitz stares silently at the woods, her eyes unreadable. It’s hard to tell if she’s worried or bored. Sometimes it seems they’re one in the same for her. 

Lolha’s attention is pulled away from her blank stare as thunder cracks in the distance. Wind carries the smell of rain to their rendezvous, and dread wells up in her stomach as she looks around, squinting at the school’s entrances in the distance. The twinge of fear flickers brighter with a flash of lightning - Seren is nowhere to be seen.

“Maybe she’s not coming,” Fitz says.

She doesn’t look away from the forest when Lolha glances over. “What?” 

“Maybe she decided not to leave and we’re waiting here for nothing.”

“She didn’t-” Lolha forces a deep breath. Another wave of twitchy something washes over her, fear and panic mingling in her chest, constricting. It’s unpleasant and growing stronger, but she prays that it means Seren is on her way. “Why would she not come?”

Fitz just shrugs. She’s still staring at the forest, and Lolha wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake urgency into her. 

“It’s a stressful thing to do,” Lolha snaps, and Fitz’s gaze flickers to hers, eyes flashing. “It doesn’t mean she bailed.” 

Movement dances in the treeline. Fitz’s mouth snap shuts before she can retort, eyes torn to the woods as quickly as Lolha’s. Buzzing silence settles between them as they both go still, watching the gap in the trees, waiting, when the storm siren starts to wail from beyond the forest. 

Lolha tears her eyes away as she catches motion in her periphery. She looks over, down, and the prickling dread in her chest stalls. Fitz’s hands are shaking.

--

The fear before had been suffocating, tight like a vise around her heart and crawling up her throat; each breath was a desperate struggle, cries nonexistent. That fear feels kind beside this one. 

Panic encompasses her, spreading to every end of her body, crackling in her fingertips and pounding through her footsteps, and her heart is beating so fast that her chest feels empty as her lungs. She doesn’t dare stop for a breath - she knows if she pauses for even a second, her chance will be gone. Rain bleeds into her eyes and muffles the sounds behind her. She hopes - and hope is just as painful as the fear, sharp enough to pierce through the haze of escape - that the storm muffles her footsteps, too. 

The backpack thumps painfully against her spine, but now she knows it’s less of a backpack and more of a satchel she’s wound around her torso, crossing the strap over her shoulders and waist to keep it against her back. It’s not her bag; somehow, that bothers her most, a worm of guilt gnawing away even as she sprints through the trees with heavier things at hand. A name flickers in her head with the gnawing. It disappears before she can grab it, drowned out by the sound of twigs snapping in front of her. 

She skids to a stop. She knows this scene - the man will be there, waiting, smug and seething, and only moments later, he will be writhing on the ground, blood pouring from a mutilated socket. The fear of confrontation has twisted now, though. At last she identifies the prick in the back of her mind from before: it’s anger, a burning thing that sears her thoughts, cauterizing the panic for just a moment as she claws for the dagger tucked into her makeshift belt. 

It’s not a dagger now, but a sharpened kitchen knife, and the weathered handle is comfortable in her bandaged hands. She grips it tighter.

The battle is how she remembers for the most part, though she feels shock course through her body with anger when the knife is in his hands, knicking her face as she kicks from under him. She lands a knee to his stomach and he doubles over; the knife is in her hands and swiftly in his eye. The spray of his blood is warm and sticky across her face. Just like the first time she was thrust into this sequence, she suppresses a gag, knowing now that escape is more urgent than disgust. She kicks again, and he topples over, grotesque and bleeding on the wet earth. She’s up and running before his screaming can reach her ears. 

The forest is a blur underneath her feet, and it’s only then that she realizes where her mistake has been. Her sprint is not a feat of speed; she’s quick, yes, but she can feel her body protesting the unfamiliar endeavor beneath the high of adrenaline. What is truly natural is her balance. She doesn’t need to look at the forest floor as she runs; she knows, despite the fear and speed and lack of a true destination, that she can correct any stumble before it ruins her. Her muscles scream, but she’s in perfect control of them. 

And as she reaches the end of a stretch of wood - the first time she’s ever seen where the trees taper off, the first time she’s free - she is no longer her. She is no longer Lolha playing an unwitting lead role. She pulls away at last, and she sees a flash of red hair.

Blood pours from Fitz’s brow where the knife caught her face, spattered across her nose and cheeks from the man’s mangled eye. She’s older than Lolha expected; she barely looks different than they know her now, just more gaunt, disjointed in the unfamiliar clothing and glaring fear on her face. Her eyes are wide and wild as she stares at the clearing in front of her - her bandaged hands and high-necked blouse are mottled with dirt and blood, and she glances down at them once, shaking, before she sets off in another sprint toward the long stretch of road in the distance. 

Lolha watches from the edge of the forest as she disappears into the storm. Footsteps pound closer behind her, and as her grip on the memory fades, her mind returning to her own present, she hears at last what the voice has been screaming after her. 

[spoiler ;)]

[aileenjoyy28]

New babies. Congratulations Mama Lolha. 😊😍♥️🐱🐱 #Lolha #CatBabies 03.29.2018

[katmuses]

[merkadoteknia]

Deleitando con una explosión de sabores en Restaurante Lolha https://ift.tt/3bE5Yjb

[goprooftheday]

Amazing #cenote called #lolha located in #yaxunah yucatan with 40 Mts deep and blue crystal clear water. Ready to jump guys? Photo by @gustavomoguel | goprooftheday

[avisafterall]

🌟 welcome!!🌟

hi there! I’m Avis, an aspiring author trying to reconnect with my passion for writing. I used to write a lot but fell off the wagon during college thanks to perfectionism and a lack of motivation, but I’m using this blog to dive back in with my current project, generally referred to as Wayfarers (name pending lol). I’m looking for friends and fellow writers in the writeblr community to share this journey with! <3

because a lot of this blog will be me working on my current project, i thought i'd pin this as an intro to the book!

Where Indiana Jones meets Six of Crows, "Wayfarers" follows the journey of six impromptu adventurers led by explorer-for-hire Lolha Pureval. When wealthy benefactor Qamar Kent approaches Lolha with the piecemeal field notes of his missing sister Miray, they gather a team to uncover the secrets of the rumored Caravas hunt—a puzzle allegedly created by an eccentric (and possibly deranged) billionaire. Their adventure becomes a thrilling chase across continents as they strive to solve Caravas' intricate game and find Miray Kent.

However, they soon discover they’re not the only ones pursuing the mysterious treasure at the end of the hunt—with the stakes rising, the team must navigate treacherous puzzles, dangerous adversaries, and their own personal struggles to uncover the truth behind Miray's disappearance and the hunt.

our main cast:

Lolha Pureval: The Explorer

Lolha is a daring archaeologist and the (mostly) fearless leader of the team. With her practical skills and adventurous spirit, she's always ready to tackle any challenge that comes her way. She's sort-of-accidentally made a name for herself as an explorer for hire, helping others find lost heirlooms for a small price... though she's yet to find the artifact she's truly searching for.

Qamar Kent: The Benefactor

Qamar is a wealthy young man who approaches Lolha for her services in the hopes of finding his missing sister. Charismatic and creative, Qamar brings more than money to the team - he's a sociable and skilled negotiator. Also, the only one who has the notes for the Caravas hunt. That's how you make yourself invaluable without lifting a finger ;)

Ezra Myers: The Academic

Ezra is Lolha’s childhood friend and a passionate folklorist, dreaming of becoming a professor. His deep knowledge of people through stories and ebullient personality make him the heart and soul of the team. Ezra is committed to keeping the group uplifted while unraveling the mysteries they encounter.

Valerie Coronado: The Puzzlemaster

Valerie is a brilliant mathematician and a genius at puzzles, with a penchant for gambling. Although she's more reticent than cooperative, her strategic mind and keen perceptions make her the perfect codebreaker for the team.

Fitz: The Pilot

Fitz is a bold, positive, thrill-seeking pilot, and a close friend of Lolha’s. Her quick thinking and action-oriented mindset are invaluable in tight spots. Hired to transport the group discreetly, Fitz is well-practiced in keeping secrets - especially her own.

Henry Hsueh: The Outdoorsman

Henry is an outdoorsman and conservationist, hired for his wilderness survival skills. Although reluctant (and displeased at his assignment as the de facto bodyguard of a certain insufferable rich kid), his reliable and detail-oriented nature makes him the backbone of the group.

--

I'm super excited to work on this project and make some writer friends (and non-writer friends) here!! <3333333

[aileenjoyy28]

Happy 2nd Birthday in Heaven Bruno, Kuya Jumper and ate Lolha! Imissyou guyz. 🐱🥺🌈 #CatIg #CatIgers #CatInstagram #Cats #SiblingsLove #Siblings https://www.instagram.com/aileenjoyy28/p/BxNqQMDBHMrTjNs-Aj1nPi_piLlVT6bYWVedNw0/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=xdwa3ilfrkck

[katmuses]

so i honestly don't know what i'm doing here lmfao. i've got these three babies. and i'm just gonna give a basic rundown of things they need??? idk travis needs: his four younger siblings!!! and friends. lots of friends. please. he's been living in seattle since he was three years old and tbh he's the nicer of the twins lmfaoooo but pls give me things!!! lolha needs: (first, call her lola or lo lmfao) she needs the rest of the caulfield siblings! yes, i promise she's one of them. she's just been married and never changed her last name. oops. anyway, she's from seattle and needs all the friends. maybe other parents??? that would be fun!! elijah needs: his cafe staff! i've decided to reuse a name i've been using for a hella long time and call his cafe brewed awakening. but he owns it and he needs co-workers! maybe even a co-owner who is like. his best friend?? idk. but he also needs a lady love that he's going to end up dating in the future.

[fob-out-boy]

new fob song

wENTzURIES by fall out boy

[merkadoteknia]

Cocina Gourmet en el corazón de la Riviera Maya solo en Restaurante Lolha 😋 https://ift.tt/2vaoyzN

[green2stayecomarketing]

#HIGHLIGHTING #ECOHOTELS #MEXICOSTHAMERICA #SWD #GREEN2STAY

Hotel Akumal Caribe

February is the month of #love; nothing says it truer than a night of fine dining & moonlight views to the backdrop of the beautiful #Akumal Bay. No stay at Hotel Akumal Caribe is complete without a meal at our on site restaurant, Lol-Ha.Reserve your table on site or at lolha@hotelakumalcaribe.com https://www.green2stay.com/mex-sth-america-eco-hotels

[avisafterall]

Qamar Kent 🎻

Character collage #4, the resident pretty boy, every group needs one (not really but it can't hurt). Qamar, like Fitz, has been a long-recurring character in my stories and has such gone through many iterations, though his roles have stayed pretty consistent in each setting. Charismatic, amicable (if a little taunting... or a lot), the well-to-do socialite in a group of otherwise awkward, introverted, or tunnel-visioned specialists. I love love LOVE writing characters whose upbringing have made them both 'useless' and essential; Qamar may not be a genius like Valerie or... well, employed like the other four, but he's the only one with the grace, guile, and exploitably good looks to get them into the metaphorical VIP lounges of the narrative. And for that, I adore him. (I also just love characters whose philosophy is "If I can't be useful, I'll be entertaining.")

Like many writers and gay people and gay writers, I have an obsession with Greek mythology (all mythology, but I was a victim of the shiny Greek Myths book first and foremost). I hope for Wayfarers to be a love letter to the Odyssey, my favorite epic, and that's resulted in some general musings and comparisons of each character to gods, mostly for my own enjoyment. For Qamar, this has been particularly interesting, especially as far as he impacts the Wayfarers plot. While I would consider many of my past versions of him to be Aphroditic (is that a word? It is now) - charming, affectionate, a heavy emphasis on knowing how to use his looks - his character as it exists now is much more Dionysian, and I find that SO intriguing. If you're not a Greek myth fan, Dionysus is a fabulously interesting god in that he bridges the gap between mortal and divine, a full god born to a mortal mother. While I must acknowledge my personal favorite god, Janus (beginnings and ends, past and future, the doorways between, etc), Dionysus is another prime god of duality - ecstasy and madness, joy and rage, poetry and philosophy and blind, drunk ramblings (and later as a patron of the arts, especially theatre, so add tragedy and comedy to that list if you'd like).

Something I've struggled with when writing Qamar in the past is that he was simply too soft. I love soft characters! Especially male characters - men who feel, express, care openly, and Qamar still does those things! He is deeply and irrevocably a hopeless romantic! But with this in mind - the Dionysian aspect - I am easily more compelled as to why Lolha would ever allow him to come with on the hunt. I mean, why go through the trouble of hiring a bodyguard, allocating the resources, and adding another liability to keep track of on such a high-risk journey if all you really need is the journal he's got? Why not keep him home, safe, to keep funding your travels from his cushy family manor?

Because he's convincing. Because he comes to you and despite the stifled, painted grief in his request, you see resolve. A ritzy, charming rich kid who barely tolerates dirt from his garden has decided that this - the journal, the hunt, his sister - is important enough to pursue, and you know his word is good. His word is useful.

I love Qamar. Big fan of him. And Dionysus. Some songs for resident pretty boy partier:

Each Time - Tamino (this one gets number one because I have spent YEARS trying to find a voice/style that fit the one for Qamar that's in my head and Tamino is perfectttt)

Why Must We Tell Them Why - 35mm: A Musical Exhibition

Love Me More - Mitski

Theatre - Etta Marcus

Pink Pony Club - Chappell Roan

[aileenjoyy28]

Missing sooo much mama lolha🐱💖😔🌈 With ate Gidget 🐱💗🥰 #SiblingsLove #SistersLove #Sisters #CatIgers #CatIg #Cats #Igers #Ig #CalicoTabby #StripTabby https://www.instagram.com/p/BtYE--IhgvhXgeH3VfZKxJ4XmnZd7-vF19eRqE0/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=ax5h08s334sz

[elf-weeb]

I know I keep complaining, but I really want to be at a convention. Ichibancon to be precise. 

I wanna be at the raves until 3AM and dance with near really hot guys who may or may not be cosplaying.

[green2stayecomarketing]

#ECOHOTELS #MEXICO #SWD #GREEN2STAY

Lolha Restaurant and Snack Bar It's our lucky day on Friday the 13th! We will have the visit of the creator of Montelobos Mezcal from 5:30 -9pm! Come to the beach bar and enjoy some great Mezcal at 50% off! http://www.green2stay.com/mex-sth-america-eco-hotels