#malm fireplace

[httyd-mc-pl-twilight]

Porch - Backyard Inspiration for a mid-sized rustic screened-in back porch remodel with a roof extension

[spookyblackconservative]

Porch - Backyard Inspiration for a mid-sized rustic screened-in back porch remodel with a roof extension

[rarasek]

Backyard Porch DC Metro An example of a mid-sized rustic screened-in back porch design with a roof extension.

[mezzoalex]

Backyard - Porch

[alexbgd]

The Amityville Horror House

I don't want to wait for October to share this nice house so I decided to share it...

Huge thank to @marioneves2 since I copied his makeover for this lot and he help me to find walls and fences.

I changed a few things so that there would be as few cc as possible. For example, the fireplace chimney wall and the garage walls are maxis, not life stories walls, etc. The house is empty, there is nothing inside, not even the walls, light etc..

CC for this lot:

Bespoke Build Set

Erica - Short Fence - Black

Lafenetre Loft Windows

BuildMode-OddsEnds-MALM

Gable ornament – base object in white

vimpse - ceiling rim mesh and recolors

Simple Build Set

Veranka's BuBu Build Set in AL Wood Colours

Garden At Home By Max20 4t2 Conversion

fence made by ZeusSims

walls was made by 13pumpkin

TS3 Midnight Hollow default road for the lush terrain

Invisible Driveway & Extensions

You going to need this:

Perfect Plants & Perfect Gardens

or to change hegdes to this:

Plastic Hedges

Please use Clean Installer before you put this lot in your game.

[shieldkeeper]

Writing Prompt: Tempest Word Count: 770 ---> masterlist

“May you dream a dream of a realm far from reach, but not so from memory’s recall.”

Thus were the cryptid words Garen left for a young woman traveling through the Shrouds with her partner as they departed. They appeared to be a young couple making for the Ala Mhigan border and were inexperienced with the ways of the forests. Their very presence and actions disrupting the calm of the elementals. So delicate this balance of keeping the elementals satisfied… twas up to the shroud’s wardens to sniff out potential disturbances like them.

But upon meeting them, some buried connection between Garen and this woman… kindled. Though they had never met in this lifetime, her appearance intrigued him. As though they were familiar in another way. Another far off place, unreachable by the hands of the waking.

He dwelled on this connection for some time. An inkling of an idea as to where this familiarity originated that had him feeling such a way.

How interesting it would be should they meet again…

And not a moment too soon either.

For a week later more or less, Garen heard a disturbance amidst the shrouds once more. A cry from afar that signaled the distress of a chocobo and their riders. Beyond the thick canopy of the forests, clouds had amassed to form a torrential downpour before ‘ere long. Just starting to wind into gear and soon to consume the forests in a bitter cold storm worth reckoning for.

Certainly not the place you would want to be stuck in with no shelter for malms.

Quick on his feet, Garen covered himself in a thick rain cloak and lit a lantern before rushing out into the thicket. Following the cries of the creature as rain started to pour down from above. Time was of the essence, and he couldn’t dawdle to help these likely lost souls.

That’s when he spotted them. The same couple from days before. Probably on their way back home and caught unsuspecting from the sudden storm. Nor did they probably know how bad this one would be—rain pelting down hard, winds gusting through the treetops as thunder and lightning resounded up above. 

He flailed his lantern and caught the attention of the riders, likely unable to hear one another amidst the raging storm. They probably couldn’t tell who he was beneath his cloak and he wasn’t about to take a face full of rain to answer the question either. Garen simply motioned for them to follow as he showed the way back to his cabin. Back to a shelter.

Quick thinking were they to follow, regardless of trust or not.

“Come inside quickly now.” Garen spoke loudly so they could hear them. “Take all your things inside before they get soaked!”

“Who are you? And why should we trust you?” Spoke the partner who was clearly acting on defense. Just as they once did before on first meeting. “How are we to not take this for a trap preying on the lost?”

“We’ve met before, have we not?” Garen shined a toothy grin from beneath the hood, pulling it up just enough to reveal his face. “Save your fuss for later once we’re inside. At least then you can fuss while you’re warm.”

“Garen…!” The young woman from before realized instantly who he was and prodded her partner to accept his assistance. That same familiarity rekindling between them once more…

As the squall continued throughout the night, Garen made sure to provide safe lodgings for the two. A warm-lit fire within the fireplace, changed out of their wet clothes and into something more comfortable. With plenty a cushion and blanket to go around, it didn’t take long for the couple to get situated. Despite the constant rattling and booms that resounded just beyond those walls.

Though unease still hung in the air… Garen dared not trouble them further with any inquiries of his own. Simply leaving them to their own devices and keeping to his room throughout the night. They were all safe and sound. He trusted the pair not to steal anything of worth after the terror they underwent on the way here.

The opportunity never did arrive where Garen could speak more frankly with the young lass. Time and company never allowed for it. But she did share with him a bangle that adorned his arm upon their departing. A clue as to who she was and where she was from.

Mayhaps one day they’d meet again. Recount the truth before they were lost entirely to time’s passage.

To become nothing more than a forgotten dream.

[heirbane]

4. Five times touched... 🐺🐇 :>

touched. / @daizure

Maybe he was trying to drown. The more he lost, the more glass bottles and thin, fluted glasses graced his lips, sweet and bitter, tolerable and horrid all at once. It helped him sleep. It helped his mind quiet, no longer as loud as the crashing waves against the cliff sides but more akin to the lull against shore, gentle and creeping until he couldn't remember what had plagued him.

Once, he would have thrown himself into his work. Once, Gaius would have donned weighted fatigues and pulled soldiers out of their platoons, running drills and sparring until his heart thrummed in his ears.

He was lost at sea now, without the capacity to run himself until oblivion as he once had. Now he simply had to wait to drown.

He reached out, intending to finish the last of the bottle, the firelight crackling with laughter ahead of him. How he had fallen, it chortled. He had hit the ground and continued unto hell.

When would it stop?

Smooth leather met his fingertips. Gaius felt himself flinch, an action pulled from the depths of his inebriated instincts, and turned his citrine gaze to the man who had crouched beside him.

For a moment, they stayed still. Arye scant looked his way, his smaller hand still gripping around the bottle with such might that Gaius believed he was simply laying claim. He let out a long exhale.

"As you wish."

Arye wrenched the bottle from him. In a swift movement, the man stood, and all at once Gaius watched as the bottle went flying. It collided with the firewood, glass shattering, and what remained of the spirits went up in flames, the fire grateful for the offering.

It continued to laugh, tendrils of heat reaching for the sky, begging for more. That was all it could do.

He wondered when Allie took up collecting.

The barracks of Garlemald's soldiers had always wanted for decor in a way that was intentional. Soldiers weren't to want, nor to have desires: they were to fight, and such things as trinkets and favored items were frowned upon. Humanity made them weak, Solus had believed.

It was a habit that carried into Terncliff, malms and malms from his home, years past being a proper soldier. His cottage was blank. He had bought the necessities and nothing more: his own bed had scarcely more than a single pillow and a single blanket, and, unconsciously, he had forced the same onto Allie.

But it seemed with each passing day that a Moogle graced his doorstep that the house became fuller. At first he had believed it to be his daughter's doings, visiting the market and buying trinkets with her own coin or combing the beach for shells and glass. Lidded jars sat in the windows, frosted seaglass positively glowing in the sunlight; sea shells of all sizes and variety appeared atop the fireplace mantle and on the washroom counter.

That was, until he appeared in a Moogle's place.

Gaius had scarcely felt as dumb in his life as he felt in that moment, fried eggs sizzling in the kitchen and his hair scarcely combed, when he opened his front door and peered down at a white-furred being that decidedly did not say "Kupo".

"Is Allie afoot?"

He paused. He looked over his shoulder, full knowing she wasn't, and spoke:

"No, she's - ... on a date. Brunch."

Arye had pushed past him, as if searching for the teen on his own. When Gaius' words sank in, however, his ears twitched, swiveling his attention to the Garlean.

"Oh."

The eggs sizzled, scorching in their pan. Gaius attempted,

"You could stay, and - "

"No."

He thrust out his armful. Gaius had been so preoccupied by his being that he didn't notice the overflowing blanket that had been carefully folded and held with care. Now, Arye seemed as if the item disgusted him, boots heavy on the stone flooring as he went to take his leave.

"For her. It was too heavy for the Moogles to take from Yanxia," he said curtly. "I'll - be back. When she's around."

Arye fled, the heavy wooden door slamming shut in his wake. Gaius stood, thumb stroking over the intricate weave in the karakul wool.

Huh. Mayhaps it hadn't entirely been Allie's doing...

"Get up. Get up, damn you."

The townfolk that had seen the Blasphemy had claimed it to sound human, that the wicked sound had put a pit in their stomach. As the world began to fall apart, they barely knew what to do with themselves. Once, Garlemald had helped build their seaside home, encouraging trade and advancements in farming. Once, Gaius had walked the stonework and looked for weak points to patch and mend.

He had been trustworthy once, the eldest of them remembered. And so they had come to the old wolf with a chance to redeem himself: not as a Garlean, and not as a Legatus, but as Gaius Baelsar.

He would not tell them no.

He wished he could have.

It was a Weapon. It was half-human and half-machine, sinew replaced with tubing. When it opened it's maw, lined with rotting, steel teeth, it was to jeer at them all. Gaius felt as if he had departed from his own body, his gunblade foreign in his hand.

It unleashed a sound that nigh echoed Valen's laughter, wet and poisonous and rancid.

Gaius didn't remember giving orders. He didn't remember being in his own skin, flooded with recollections of his children as their souls were torn from their aether, as they fused with the machina they piloted. It defied nature. It defied science.

Maybe he hadn't done a thing at all. All at once he was startled awake, gasping for air in a way that felt as if his lungs were on fire. Arye appeared above him, positively blocking out the sun and wearing it's rays as a halo against his locks. He heard Allie weeping not far away.

When had he gotten here? How had he the time to save the world and such a place as this? Had the rest of the realm begged him for assistance, too?

Arye's bare hand fisted the front of his armor. It had been the best the Werlytans could scrounge up, padded cotton and hemp, leather reinforcements for those who stood at the front line. He yanked, forcing Gaius into a seated position even as the world swam.

Allie stared at him. Arye cursed. He felt the man's palm against his back and under his ribs, the action ripping a sound from him that felt black and horrid.

Maybe he was getting to die here, he wondered. After it all. Maybe he would get peace after all.

He could breathe. They were small, shallow things, his subconscious more aware of his plight than he. It was dark and drizzling, the moon but a sliver in the sky as it peered through his window shyly.

He had not died. He had yet to feel relieved in that fact: Gaius simply felt old and haggard, beaten unto oblivion and drug back to the shores of the living. Maybe his age had finally caught up with his spirit.

He heard a wheezy sigh at his side, and then the throaty inhale of someone who had their nose broken too many times. He became aware of the sheer number of people asleep in the dark: the chair to his study had been brought in, as well as the rocking chair from the living room. He felt Allie's small hand in his own, even as she slept turned away from him, a pillow carefully dividing them - her attempt to keep from hurting him in her sleep.

Valdeaulin snored. His feet sagged the mattress where he slouched, his chair at the foot of the bed. When Gaius turned his head, he saw moon-white hair curling on his pillow. Arye had claimed the study chair, contorted in such a way that looked uncomfortable, his forehead on his arm and his hand outstretched in his direction. His fingertips just barely brushed Gaius' sleeping shirt.

He had not died. He felt old and exhausted, weary and threadbare, but his throat was thick and he found it harder to breathe than before. He squeezed Allie's hand, and slowly - uncertainly, unaware of the full extent of his wounds - placed his other beneath Arye's.

He brought their intertwined hands to his lips. The moon watched as he wept.

Gaius had learned far more about the Scions and their small spats than he ever believed he could. Had he been but half a decade younger, he wondered what this information would have done for him in Garlemald.

Perhaps not as much as he wished, he mused. The Lalafell's blackmail attempts aside, they were fairly moot points; the rogue and the celestial mage had not been intermingled until recently, so it would not have been useful then. The witch's shift in aethersight was a boon, despite it's challenges, and the dragoon's fondness for Thavnair was expected. That bit of information was one he already knew - they had crossed paths more than once after their excursion to Garlemald.

But the Warrior of Light was a storyteller, and he would not turn down the chance to hear Allie laugh... even if it meant his daughter telling stories of her own.

(He pretended he hadn't heard her mention kissing the girl she was dating, or that she had trailed off and laughed in a way that he hadn't ever heard, that both were lost under the popping of bacon and popotos.)

Arye appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. His mug was empty, and he gingerly put the tea bag in the trash. With a familiar ease, he dug into the cabinetry, fishing out cutlery and plates for all three of them.

"She hadn't told me she was that involved with her," Gaius grumbled. He heard the man snort, his hip colliding with the Garlean's thigh as they stood side-by-side.

"Maybe you'd know about her if you invited her for breakfast instead of just me," Arye spoke.

It was Gaius' turn to huff, defensive and dismissive all at once. He watched the rabbit's ears swivel, mischievous and coy, as he laid claim to two of the finished plates and disappeared back into to the table Allie sat at.

He was right. Somehow, he usually was. Gaius ran a hand over his face, picking up his plate in one hand and his walking cane in another, and made to join them both.

[ugh-yoongi]

For the asks 11, 21, and 31 please! 💜

hello my love thank u for asking!

11. favorite extracurricular activity?

i've been refinishing and restoring a lot of old furniture lately. i refuse to pay full price for just about anything, so i pick up a lot of stuff from letgo (rip) and facebook marketplace. we're working on an old malm-style fireplace now, but we finished a broyhill brasilia credenza before that.

21. something you’ve kept since childhood?

i said trauma already, but i still have my cd collection, some stuffed animals, a really neat dollhouse my grandfather handmade for me. my grandmother offloaded AN ENTIRE BOX of butterfly hairclips on me not long ago, so you can definitely tell i grew up in the 90s.

31. what type of music keeps you grounded?

hmm... anything sad? i have multiple sad playlists for no reason lmao. but they're good for writing and rainy days.

[atomicranch2023]

Discover Stylish Mid Century Fireplace Designs for Your Home

Explore a curated selection of mid century fireplace designs to add retro charm and warmth to your living space. From iconic Malm fireplaces to sleek modern interpretations, find the perfect centerpiece for your mid-century inspired home.

[sloeginfizzillustration]

February 1st! Time to change over those calendars, surround yourself with greenery and settle in with a good book. For those of you familiar with my work, this window is a little nod to the window in my drawing of the MCM Malm fireplace. 🪟❤️ . . . #sloeginfizzart #sloeginfizz #illustratedcalendar #cozyvibes #readingnook #michiganartist #calendar #february (at Hamburg, Michigan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CoIY57UvUSs/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[hometoursandotherstuff]

B-52s lead singer Kate Pierson and her wife, artist Monica Coleman, bought this 6.5-acre Catskills property in the early 2000s, turning it into a retro “love shack.” With a total of 10 guest accommodations- the motel, called Kate’s Lazy Meadow, is just outside Woodstock, New York. But, b/c they own other properties, they decided it was time to pass the torch and hope that someone who will turn it into a family compound, buys it. 

It was, coincidentally, built in 1952, and Kate & Monica outfitted the cabins with mid-century furnishings, bright colors, and loads of kitschy decor. Everything is included in the $2,200,000 sale.

Kate said that she warmed up to the idea of owning a hotel after so many years of staying in them while traveling with the band.

Another fun thing is the authentic 1950s refurbished kitchens you’ll find throughout the cabins.

Each of the 10 units was curated to perfection in a style that Kate described as “midcentury-modern fantasy land.”

Classic knotty pine!

She acquired a lot of the tchotchkes antiquing while on tour with the B52s, but, she says, “I just shopped ’til I dropped,” after buying the property.

Included are some high-brow pieces like Eames chairs and a Scandinavian vintage Malm gas fireplace.

In total, there are 13 bedrooms, 11 bathrooms, and 4,795 square feet of interior space. This is spread over three buildings with eight, three, and two bedrooms each.

There’s also a Japanese-style plunge pool.

The property is just two hours from New York City, on the banks of Esopus Creek, which is famous for fly fishing and tubing. You can enjoy the mountain views from Adirondack chairs, picnic tables, and a fire pit on the grounds.

https://www.6sqft.com/kate-pierson-of-the-b-52s-lists-her-retro-catskills-compound-for-2-2m/

[designitvintageliving]

💎Malm Fireplace💎 • • • #malm #preway #fireplace #turquoise #turquoisedecor #bluediamond #theblueranch #bluedecor #blue #colorblue #vintage #midcenturymodern #myeclecticmix #myboldhues #colourmyhome #blackandwhite

[605mod]

🔥Fire season is in full force!🔥 The yellow Preway fireplace has sold but the red Majestic is still available for you to enjoy backyard fires! ⬅��⬅️Scroll ⬅️⬅️ for #fire! . . . The small black electric fireplace is for indoor use only, no flames. Sorry pyros! . . . #outdoordesign #backyarddesign #backyard #design #patio #patiodecor #fireplace #preway #majestic #malm #conefireplace #midcentury #midcenturymodern #midcenturydesign #interiordesigner #exteriordesign #patiolife #vintage #vintagefireplace (at 605 MOD) https://www.instagram.com/p/B4vseRdHvu-/?igshid=1mnp1zke33eix

[elizabethrobertajones]

FFXIV Write: Day 7, Pawn

I was like, Eorzea doesn't have chess, even? And then I remembered a whole cathedral full of chess automaton, and that SOMEONE has chess culturally in this mythos. So. Frog x Aymeric, Frog x Haurchefant, Haurchefant x Aymeric, rated M. :)

Still set in this rolling post EW-timeline most of these have been.

“Do you know how to play?”

Frog pulled her attention back from the chessboard set up on a small table in the corner of the drawing room. Inconceivably, she’d made it all the way to after dinner drinks with Aymeric and nothing had yet burst through the door with problems to drag them apart. Saving the universe from oblivion really had some advantages. The evening had become cosy, quiet, and contemplative, and the longer and longer silences between them spoke not of lack of things to say, but the enormity of things unsaid. She’d been staring around the room, reading the spines of his books, looking at the decorations on the wall, and truly taking in who he was when alone, what rare times he had to be himself away from the eyes of all but his closest people, and her gaze had fallen on the game table, and stuck there long enough that he had noticed her wandering attention.

“Yes. I – Haurchefant taught me the rules, once.”

Aymeric’s face broke into a reflective, wistful smile. “I too learned under his haphazard tutelage. Truly, he was one of the worse players in Ishgard, second only to myself. Tell me, were you any better?”

Frog shrugged. It had been a late night hobby between them, and attempts to play to while away the all too few nights she’d spent at Camp Dragonhead and once at Fortemps Manor with him had not ended in victory in either side, but slow kisses on a fireside rug. “We should find out,” she decided, getting up at once.

After refilling their wineglasses, Aymeric joined her. She held out two closed fists with pawns hidden in them, and bit her lip when rather than tap her hand to indicate which he was choosing, he closed both hands around one of hers for a brief moment, not lingering, yet leaving the warmth of his touch with her.

He was too earnest – too much, somehow after years of acquaintance, she was unprepared for this. When she’d told G’raha she’d finally secured another dinner date more than a year after the first and Halone willing she might actually nail down this seduction at last since no scion was within a thousand malms of Ishgard with their problems, he’d simply told her to tell him everything – no advice, no speculation… What use was he, she thought in a daze, as Aymeric settled opposite her and turned the board so the black pieces faced her.

Damned if she’d let him make all the moves. She stretched her long legs under the little table, and found his ankle to nudge with her toes, startling him so much he blushed ear to ear and made the extremely Haurchefant-esque first move of clumsily pushing the first pawn his fingers alighted on forwards without any apparent contemplation, as his eyes were now fixed on her.

Grin spreading across her face, she reached for its mirror on her board, and picked it up. Her fingers felt a strange indentation on the round face of the pawn, and she turned it, rubbing her thumb over where, at some time, the ilm-high object had been struck with enough force to eat a pale chunk out of it.

The pain struck her temples suddenly, and the black and white squares blurred and swam, as to her amazement the Echo picked now of all moments to appear.

The first thing she saw was the pawn bouncing off the grate of the fireplace, the very same that was a yalm away from where she sat in the present. Other pieces were scattering across the floor, the board slowly sliding from the table as her vision drifted up from the spinning pawn on the tile, past the avalanche of other pieces; one armchair was askew and rocking on its legs, the other was tipped back as one familiar elezen, though alarmingly lanky and just out of the gruelling growth spurt, lurched into the lap of another, just as young, just as furiously intent on this flurry of kisses.

Young Haurchefant straddled young Aymeric with sure confidence, drawing frantic moans from his friend, who seemed scare able to believe this was happening, letting the more experienced youth take his hands in his own and place them where he pleased, kissing too hard, too sloppily in return, for Frog to believe this was anything other than a very overwhelming first time for anything from kisses to having someone grind down into his lap and suck at his neck with a smirk that made her heart ache with grief and fondness. She’d had the same look overpower her, her own inexperience barely less than Aymeric’s; she knew how it felt to be absorbed wholly into that man’s smile, his assurance, his furious dedication to making you feel loved. To making you feel everything that it was possible to feel, all at once.

Aymeric’s smile when the chessboard had come into the conversation made perfect sense – it was her own smile at falling for the very same suggestion to draw her away to a quiet room, to sit close and brush hands, smile and touch and play just as long as it took to confirm where this game’s true victory lay. And Haurchefant, it seemed, won every time.

Her vision cleared, and she found herself staring open-mouthed at Aymeric. She didn’t know where she’d picked up the gossip that he’d abjured all pleasure in pursuit of power and had yet to know a gently touch, but honestly, why had she even taken overheard Forgotten Knight hearsay as truth, no matter how chastely he had carried himself until now. But a few bells ago she had joked to Raha about getting Aymeric to loosen up.

He looked deeply perturbed, though fondly. “I think mayhap it was an error in choosing to play, if you are perceiving my moves ahead of time?”

“No, no, the Echo doesn’t work like –” She gazed at him, thoughts tumbling fast as the overwhelming sensory memory faded enough for her to return to her current situation. Truly, these visions hitting her in the middle of a battle were more welcome. “We really are more alike than I had realised. Trust us to fall for Haurchefant’s moves.”

His eyes widened in shock, and she feared that this vision had smashed its way through their carefully built facades and ruined the precarious tension they had woven into their evening. But his expression softend to a fond blush, a distant look beyond her to the well-remembered past, the reason Aymeric kept a chessboard in his room. “What I would give to relive that moment as you have seen it.”

She put the pawn down carefully on the square in front of its start point. “Perhaps it would be more in honour of our dear friend’s memory to make moments of our own.”

And that was how Bounding Frog lost a game of chess in two moves.

[karoiseka]

Forgotten Home

Spoilers for End of 5.0-takes place 5.1-2 ish. ((This is finally digging into a bit more of Karo’s backstory.  I really took my time with this one, and am very proud of it.  Hope you enjoy!))

The Twelveswood felt different. That was the only way Karoiseka could describe it.  The First was saved, and she was back on the Source again, giving an update to the Scions still here, but had felt a pull to the woods just to the South of Camp Tranquil.  The forest giants of years past had given way to a younger growth bordering Thanalan, the warm air from the desert colliding with the cool shade under the trees.  She could feel Ardbert's curiosity at what they were doing there, paired with her own.  The paths she had walked most of her life held an extra forgotten meaning that was clawing its way back into her memories. This wasn't just a hunting trail, like so many others, there--beneath the tall oak--she could remember her first hunting kill with her new larger bow, a gift from-- 

There was almost a physical pain as the forgotten memory surfaced, almost an Echo manifestation, and she could see a snapshot of the moment, Seirlait--her Da--proudly standing nearby.  Her heart ached as she saw his face in her mind as clear as it had been that day. As clear as it had been when she had waved good-bye to them-both her fathers- a smile on her face as they headed out to help with the preparations for the clash at Carteneau as she stayed to look after the cabin.  How? How had she forgotten them? Da and Pa both, the memories assailing her senses as feet tore along the trail heading to a destination her mind had not reconciled yet. 

There- that tree had been so good for climbing.

The little stream that held such wonders to the small child she once was. 

That clearing holding the best herbs for the evening stew to be cooked over the fire.

Tiny fingers weaving a flower crown, placing it triumphantly on Feophaux's (Pa’s) head.

The boughs of a willow creating a curtain to play hide and seek in--learning more skills from both her fathers. 

The perfect reading nook nestled high in the treetops with just enough light.

Eyes unseeing of the present, Karo lived in the flashbacks of her past as every step closer to- closer to home.  The word burned in her mind as a beacon, blinding her to all else. Was this what she had been seeking all these years? Wasn't that the Rising Stones?  Hadn’t she found her other home in the Crystal Tower on the First?  She vaguely remembered in her unforgotten recollections the Highlander and Duskwight, eyes full of grief as they watched her escape the cabin that she had lived in after the Calamity--and before she now knew again.  The pain in their voices as they pleaded with her to remember them, and the anguish when she told them to stop calling her their daughter.  She left shortly after, headed to Gridania to find her own way, adrift with scant more than the short bow she had been teaching-reteaching-herself to use, and a small pack. 

The Calamity.  It had to have been the catalyst of the memory loss, for she could see clearly now that nothing but muscle memory and a vague sense of what felt right were all that had remained from before that fateful day.  Now she wondered what had changed again, even as the sheepish feeling from Ardbert guided her to an answer.  The shock of living through the initial seventh rejoining of souls must have triggered the amnesia in the first place, her mind blocking the trauma of the moment.  The acceptance and welcoming of Ardbert's soul to her own had healed all those splintered parts, even those that were unknown to her to begin with.  It had taken time to come back to her, and a slightly longer stay on the Source than she had taken in a long while, but now that the trickle had started, the dam was broken--her mind filled with all that she had forgotten.  Ardbert ensured that they didn't stumble through the frantic rush she made down the trail--not caring about the tracks she was leaving in her wake. 

Malms later, her feet stopped and past and present collided as her eyes saw again. The small cabin was sealed tight against the elements, and the overgrowth in the garden and clearing spoke of no one having tended to them for at least two years. The Bard fell to her knees, a low keening sound filling the air--she vaguely recognized it as her own voice, grief overwhelming her.  The run, much less the mental exertion, had taken a huge chuck of energy from her, and Karo wept, broken at the sight of her childhood home--empty.

As the sun crawled across the sky, Karo slowly took in the details of the clearing.  Not much had changed in the years since she had left.  The garden was overgrown, but the perennial plants fought for their place among the weeds.  The archery targets were still affixed to the surrounding trees, all at different heights, some now hidden from the growth.  Bluebells covered the small meadow, and she remembered stubbornly throwing the seeds all over instead of planting them in neat rows in the flowerbeds because they were her favorite and she couldn't see the flowerbeds from her bedroom window.  Looking carefully, finally pacing forward on shaking legs, Karo noticed that the cabin was carefully secured--just as it had been every time they had left for their summer journey.  The only thing that concerned her was that it looked as if they hadn't been back in at least one winter--maybe even two or three--not even passing through during the warmer months. 

Digging into her newfound memories, she spun and headed to the tree that was surrounded by the most bluebells.  The archery target there was still attached to one of the lower branches, but the Bard still had to climb a bit to reach it.  Fiddling with the back of it, the small compartment made itself known, and the prize ended up in her nimble fingers.  The front door key.  Jumping down, she forced herself to walk fully around the house, checking for any breaches that could mean that the house wasn’t secure, or that someone or something, was residing within.  Not finding even so much as something that would let a draft in, she braced herself and headed to the door.

The key slid into the lock, and only needed a slight bit of jiggling to get it to turn, the door itself stiff from disuse and the hinges creaking with the rust buildup.  Karo was hit with the sweet smell of dried lavender, vanilla, and sweet cedar; all the smells she remembered that hearkened to what home meant.  The curtains being drawn left the main room in shadows, the light from the doorway streaming into the air laden with the dust she had kicked up by entering.  The cabin was one main room split with partitions into areas for cooking, dining, and leisure.  There was a bedroom for her fathers off to one side, and a small bathing chamber on the other.  The tiny loft above the bath area had been hers to claim, curtains creating a small wall for her privacy.

Leaving the door open for the light, and to air the place out a bit, Karo started to open the curtains to let in more natural light before she looked around for any clues to where Seirlait and Feophaux had disappeared to.  Absentmindedly, she headed to the kitchen sink, and ran the tap for a few moments, letting the components loosen up and water to come back through the pipes since it had obviously been a while.  Grabbing a rag, she wet it with the first bit of water that came through, and wiped down the counters, removing the thin layer of dust that had gathered.  A quick peek at the pantry showed that beyond some items that kept for seasons, naught had been left.  That was normal enough, so she continued on to the all-purpose room.  The large fireplace on one end was one of two in the house that provided most of the heat in the winter, as well as some basic charms.  The wall was lined with books of all types, and one of the racks of shelves was full of supplies for writing, and hooks for instruments that had obviously gone wherever their owners were.  

Karo’s attention was pulled to her left, for there, lying on the table near the fireplace, was a folded piece of paper, her full name carefully written across it.  Hands shaking, she picked it up carefully, blowing dust off of it as she broke the seal on the back and started to read.

Dearest Karoiseka,

If you’re reading this, it means, we hope, that you have found your way back home and that beyond our wildest dreams that you have finally remembered all that occurred prior to Carteneau.  

After you left, we continued on best we could, despite missing you dearly.  We know that we had spent a long time at Carteneau helping to clean up and transport people all over Eorzea, but we had not anticipated you not remembering us at all or anything from your childhood.

Some time after you left, at least a year, we started hearing your name out of Gridania--how you were a bit of a local legend as an adventurer.  You had cleared out several dens of evil, and were becoming beloved by all that crossed your path.  Incredulous, we followed any scrap of information we could get, hearing about the Scion, Primals, and Garlean forces and your role in taking them down only made us fear for your safety.

Then came the accusations from Ul’dah.  None of which could be true.  Word of you dropped off except for hushed whispers, before rushing back in a whirlwind of fantastical stories of you bringing the Dragonsong War to an end in Ishgard.  We even made the trek to Mor Dhona hoping to catch a glimpse of you, but left before we did--partially because we feared you still wouldn’t recognize us.  We heard that you were part of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn there, and even talked with an Ironworks engineer who said he had worked with you before.  Knowing you were safe among friends eased our hearts for a bit as we headed home.

Another year passed and the uprisings in Ala Mhigo are now all that the city-states are talking about.  The Scions are said to be helping with the organization and negotiations , so we have decided to pack up for this year and help.  I know not if we shall cross paths while there, or if you will ever see this, but we must do what we can to help.  Not only for those that live there, but for you as well.  Knowing that we can hopefully take even a little of the burden off of your shoulders is all that we can hope to do.

We love you, and miss you, and pray that you stay safe and healthy through it all. 

~Da an Pa

A hot tear splashed onto the paper in her hands as Karo put together the timeframe that they had been gone.  They hadn't yet returned from the liberation of Ala Mhigo--and they had left near the beginning of the conflict, well over two years ago.  Considering they had taken almost five years to return from Carteneau, she shouldn't be much surprised.  They were probably helping courier refugees back home, and the wounded to the respective city-states.  She paced the length of the room, worrying for their safety throughout the conflict as well.  It had been extremely wide-spread with the Garlemald forces targeting anything and anybody they even thought were helping the Resistance.  She had seen it time and time again from the small villages and hamlets throughout the region in the aftermath as she tried to ease her own guilt from not being there for them and tried to help with the smallest of tasks from anyone who asked.  She knew logically she could only be in one place at a time, and that the forces she had been helping were the same.  If they hadn’t done what they had, there was a chance the country would still be occupied even now..

Had she seen them though? Walked right by with unseeing eyes?  Had they greeted her, only to get her strained public smile in return and a generic platitude--all that she could muster?  Had she passed by their graves not knowing who lay there?  She had talked to so many people all over the broken country, her mind raced, but all the faces were a blur.  She had spent plenty of time in Doma as well, not counting for all the travel back and forth, during that time-paths may have crossed, or may have been missed without even the chance of happening.  

Karo wasn’t sure how many times she re-read the pages, and wasn’t fully aware that she had curled up in the large armchair until the evening light hit her eyes streaming in from the still open door. Blinking blearily, she stood and lit a couple of the candles to provide some light in the growing dark.  The house had electricity, however, she didn’t feel like finding and turning on the generator quite yet.  She closed the door, and got a glass of water from the tap, scrounging for some trail rations that were still in her pack from earlier.  The Bard didn’t remember relinquishing her bow and pack at the door, but old habits die hard, and they were neatly hung by the door on the pegs meant for that very purpose.

Tucking the letter safely in her bag she cleaned up the small mess she had made and went to the washroom to clean her face of the salt-crusted tears that had dried there.  Not a thing had changed, towels and soap stored neatly away in the same places they always had been.   The vase on the sink, usually filled with wildflowers picked during the day, was empty for the time--and she longed to fill it and keep the room cheery, but knew not how long she would be there herself.  Responsibilities still loomed both here and on the First, her comrades bodies still laying still in the Dawn’s Respite.

As she climbed up to her loft, not much had changed since she had last been up here.  When her memories had first escaped her, she had stayed down in the main bedroom, not realizing that it wasn’t her’s.  The loft she had never quite gone up the ladder-like stairs, and so it remained very similar to when she last called it her own. The bed was made, but with an additional sheet covering it all to keep the dust off, ready to be used at a moment’s notice.  The hope that lived in her parent’s hearts nearly broke her own, as she caved to exhaustion finally, Ardbert’s comforting presence allowing her to drift off to sleep when she thought it was the furthest thing from her mind.  

On the morrow, Karo would write her reply and leave it where she had found her own letter, secure the cabin once more and return the key to it's hiding place.  She wouldn't forget again now that her soul was healed, yet her obligations would keep her busy, she knew.  When she had time, she would ask her various contacts, hoping beyond hope that someone has news, and if they didn't, that her note would be read, and that they would return once more to the Rising Stones, asking for her proudly by name.