#maybe. for threnody's arm

[goldpilot22]

been thinking about anchored rea and threnody again

[invinciblerodent]

"I need to rein it in, I don't know the characters yet, so I won't write fic about them- it'd just end up being out of character anyway."

(proceeds to write like four pages)

"well, okay, that's.... fine, it's ambiguous enough, they barely speak. but i won't mention the kind of tattoos this character is supposed to have without seeing what options I have for them in the cc, just to keep things neat and canon-accurate."

(proceeds to spend like half an hour brainstorming ideas for exactly that)

[slinket]

The Aftermath

Chapter 4

Woo, I did it, finally.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Warnings: NSFW, public sex, sort of, probably more fluff than anything else.

Threnody -

They made their way back towards the school, speaking quietly to each other.  Their hands would brush against each other, but they never grasped on, too many people around in the courtyard.

Threnody paused, causing Ominis to stumble.

“What’s wrong?”

“No, nothing, sorry.  Garreth is just jogging towards us.  I forgot we were going to meet today to work on a project.”

Garreth nearly crashed into Threnody as he stopped, his breathing a bit haggard from sprinting over to her.

“Ren, babe, we still on for tonight?  You disappeared after lunch…”  His eyes narrowed a bit, looking over at Ominis, “Ominis, you feeling better mate?”  Garreth moved between them, hooking an arm over each shoulder as he corralled them forward.  

“Yes Garreth, I was just heading back in to meet you.  I just need to stop by my room and grab a couple books, then I can meet you there?”

“Perfect.  Looking forward to it - just you and me, minds melding in a quiet room.”  Garreth gave her a squeeze before running off.

Ominis reached out and grabbed Threnody’s hand, pulling her closer.  “Hook your arm with mine, guide me back to the dorm?”

“Of course”

They walked together, using Ominis’ disability to allow them to keep touching. They headed back inside, Threnody bringing them down into the chill of the dungeons.  

“Would it be okay if I joined you tonight?  I want to avoid Sebastian, and Garreth seems a little too happy about you two being alone.”  Threnody could hear a twinge of jealousy in his voice.

“I’d like that.  Bit of a buffer between Garreth and his constant flirting.  We may actually get some work done.”  She pulled herself closer to him.  “He’s likely going to ask about Anne.  Not that you have to tell him anything - you know what he’s like.”

Ominis groaned, stopped walking and put a finger to Threnody’s lips.  She watched him as he listened to the sounds around them - she heard nothing, and he must have agreed..  Ominis looked back at her and pushed her against the wall, his arms trapping her.  She smiled at him, running her hands over his upper chest and over his shoulders.  He leaned forward, nuzzling his nose beneath her ear.  His lips pressed against her, whispering, “I could tell him about her, or I could give him details of the dreams I have most nights.”  Ominis flicked his tongue out, letting it slowly run against her neck.  “Generally speaking, they involve you, naked and writhing under me.”

He could feel her pulse under his lips, fluttering.  Her fingers slid from his neck and into his hair, tugging his head back slightly.

“I’d rather you not tell Garreth how you dream of me.  He might get some ideas, and you know how he is with ideas.”  

“Maybe we will like one of his ideas.”

“Ominis,” Threnody scolded, and then her voice squeaked as Ominis pressed his hips up against hers.  “Ominis, we have to get going, Garreth is expecting me.”

He groaned as he dropped his hips.  “What can I do for us to have some touching time?  Naked touching time, preferably.”

“Naked touching time?  Ominis, we haven’t gone out on a date yet, and you think I’ll strip my clothes off for you?”  She pulled at his collar as she teased him.

“I was hoping you would allow me to strip your clothing off.  Also, how am I supposed to take you out on a date when we can’t let anyone know?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.  Now come on.”  She pushed him back lightly, grabbing his hand to pull him along with her.  They moved through the castle silently, both lost in thought.  Threnody had been thinking more and more about being alone and intimate with Ominis.  Everytime he would casually touch her, her skin prickled in excitement.  Still being a virgin made her nervous about sex.  Knowing that Ominis had a poor experience with Anne actually made her feel better about sleeping with him - she figured it would be better for him simply because he wanted her.  Threnody knew she would give herself to him, it was just a matter of time.  However, she also knew that Ominis may be talking a big game, but that he would be nervous when push came to shove.  He was nearly trembling with nerves during the summer, so she can’t imagine he is suddenly ready to jump right into it.  

They moved together, reaching the library and finding Garreth sitting alone in the back stacks.

“Oy, Ren, there you are - and also Ominis is here…”  Garreth lifted an eyebrow in question to Ominis’ presence.

“I hope you don’t mind Garreth, I don’t much feel like being stuck in the dorms with Sebastian.”

“Oh no, no problem,”  Threnody thought she saw a twinge of disappointment on Garreth’s face, but it quickly vanished and was replaced with mischief.  

They worked in silence for a while, Garreth and Threnody speaking only when sharing their information.  Ominis sat close next to Threnody, closing his eyes and keeping his hands on his lap.  At least it started as such, but soon his hand was on Threnody, slowly running over her, finding her bare thigh to caress.  Taking a break from her studies, Threnody sat back in her chair, sighing lightly.  Garreth decided to do the same, stretching his arms out and hanging one over Threnody’s chair.  Threnody, not happy with Garreth moving closer, tried to subtly scoot closer to Ominis.  Feeling her moving closer, Ominis removed his arm from her leg and brought it up to lay over her shoulders, gently pushing Garreth’s arm away.

“Uh, oh, so Ominis, you didn’t think you’d get away with not giving us any details about your night with Anne, did you?  Or was it multiple nights?”

Grumbling to himself, Ominis pinched his lips together before answering.  “I was only once, Garreth.”

“Once?  Sebastian said you were dating her, and you only slept with her once?  How boring.”

“Garreth, honestly it was just a one time thing.  Anne was feeling very depressed and while trying to comfort her, she kept pushing forward.  I didn’t have it in me to say no.  I am not dating her, and I made that very clear, so I don’t know why Sebastian said that we were together.  Sorry it wasn’t very interesting for you Garreth, but I didn’t know it was going to happen, and since I had never thought about Anne sexually, it was weird, and I was fairly clueless as to what I was doing.”  

“Bah, it’s fine mate, I’ll let it go for now.  I’ve got some questions for our lady friend here anyways.” 

Threnody, who had closed her eyes while laying against Omini’s arm, opened them back up to give a questioning look to Garreth.  “About the project?”

“Hell no!  I need to know what you meant when you said I wasn’t your first kiss.  You told me that day that it was going to be the first time.”

Rolling her eyes “Why does it matter?  It was like half a year ago.”

“My pride matters!”

“Ugh, fine.”  Threnody looks over to Ominis, “Okay Ominis?”  Ominis lays his head in his hand, arm resting against the table, shrugging.  His other hand fell off the back of her seat, casually grabbing onto Threnody’s knee.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several months earlier

The large group of friends were sitting in the Gryffendor common room, enjoying their time together.  One of them had suggested playing spin the bottle, and most everyone agreed it was a great idea.  They had not been playing very long when Ominis was already getting frustrated.  He didn’t want to play, and he didn’t want Threnody to play, because the chances of her only having to kiss him were fairly low.  

He made his objection known, but agreed to stay for the time being.  Ominis was nearly overcome with anticipation when it was Threnody’s turn.  His leg tapping, nervous.  He was hoping it would land on him, praying that whichever god may or may not be in the sky would finally see it fit to bless him rather than abandon him once again.  This would be perfect, he wouldn’t have to expose his feelings, he wouldn’t have to come up with a reason to kiss her, he would just have to do it.

“Well, whoever this lands on, you’ll get to be my first kiss.”  Threnody wasn’t shy about sharing that to the group.  Most of them already knew.

“First kiss? It’s got to be more than a peck, gentlemen, make sure you’re ready.”  Imelda was laughing.

Threnody spun the bottle, and it landed facing Garreth.  She looked up at him, to see a huge smile on his face.

“It’s me, okay, I uh, I need a moment.  I’ll be right back.”  Garreth stood and rushed out of the room, up to his dorm.

Hearing Garreth’s announcement, Ominis felt totally deflated.  Pissed.

“Enough of this, I’m leaving.”  Ominis was angry.  He should have hit the bottle with a charm to make it move more, not that he could tell when it would have been facing him.  

Imelda, sitting with the group, knocked her elbow into Amit’s side, “Uh on, looks like Ominis is pissed he doesn’t get to kiss Threnody.  Maybe when it’s your turn Ominis, the bottle will land on her.”  

‘With my luck it will land between two people and you guys will make me kiss a couch.’

Ominis’ face turned red with anger or embarrassment, Threnody wasn’t sure which.  “My leaving has nothing to do with who Threnody is kissing.  I just think it is a private thing that shouldn’t be used for entertainment.  However, Threnody, as I am not familiar with this room, would you mind guiding me back to the portrait?  Seeing as Garreth ran off”  He held his hand out to her, expecting her to say yes.

Threnody took his hand, standing up to grasp onto his arm.  “I can spare a moment.”

She led Ominis out of the room and towards the corridor to leave.  “Are you alright Ominis?  You did seem a bit upset.”

Ominis stopped walking, and turned to look at her.  “I…well I just, you know your first kiss shouldn’t be wasted on Garreth!  He just doesn’t deserve to be your first.”  Threnody smiled slightly while listening to Ominis rant.  “It should..” he was stumbling over his words, “be with someone you have more of a relationship with, I mean, I know you and Garreth are friends, but not very close friends, I think, you know, I just don’t want you to regret it later.  It should be special.” 

He was looking at her with determination, nerves flickering across his face.  “Ominis, I appreciate your opinion, but I am playing the game, and I’m a bit out of time to find someone else.  Especially someone who would want to kiss me.”  Threnody was still holding onto his arm, he felt her gently squeeze it.  Ominis was used to never being the top of people’s choices.  Not the favorite son.  A best friend to Sebastian, but not above his twin.  He was so sure that Threnody had wanted Sebastian to be her beau when they had first met, but nothing had ever come of that, so he allowed himself to think that maybe he could be the one she wanted.  He often berated himself for never telling her how he felt.  Just waiting for the universe to jump in and win the girl for him.

“Right, well, I just wanted you to know that.”  Ominis dropped his head slightly.

“Thank you, I appreciate your thoughts, we are at the door, if you still want to leave.”

“Yes. Ok.”  He nodded his head once, turning away from her.  His arm slowly slid out from hers. Ominis didn’t move when he had turned from her, and he could hear that Threnody had not moved either.  He sighed, turning back towards her.  “Threnody?”  He listened to her hum in response.

Ominis threw his hands out in front of him, grabbing onto her.  He was a bit jumbled so one hand landed on her shoulder, the other half way down her arm.  It didn’t matter.  He moved his head forward, a little too fast, his nose bumping against her forehead and his lips against her eye.  He mumbled a sorry as he kept his lips against her, using them to find hers.  When he did, Ominis ran his hands up to her face, cupping it lightly while he finally pressed his lips against hers.  He was tentative at first, but feeling Threnody press back against him, he opened his lips, letting them move with hers.  He didn’t pull away until he heard someone calling for her from the other room.  Ominis snapped his head back quickly at the sound, his face flushed and his heart beating so hard he was sure she would be able to hear it.  He hadn’t let go of her face, not quite ready to fully pull away.

“There.  Now…now it’s ok if you kiss him, I guess.  He’s not the first.”

Threnody only whispered back an ‘ok,’ her face still being held by Ominis.  He cleared his throat, dropping his hands, and stumbling back a bit into the doorway.  “I will um, I’m going to go now.  See you later?”  

Nodding first, before finally finding her words to say yes, Ominis awkwardly turned and walked away.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What the hell Ominis?  You stole her first kiss because you didn’t think I was special enough?”

Ominis glowered at Garreth.  “I didn’t steal it.  It was never yours to have.”

“The game said I won it!”  Garreth grumbled and plopped back down in his seat.  “You know what?  It’s fine, She’ll get her first good kiss from me.”  Garreth pushed out of his seat again, and swiftly pressed his lips against Threnody.  Ominis’ face dropped as he heard her muffled cry of shock.  He stood, reaching out to find Garreth’s shoulders and pushed hard.

“Oye, don’t be mad Ominis, now she knows what a real kiss is like.  Threnody, I’ll be the first one that beds you too.  Ominis still would have no idea what he is doing.  Ha.”

Ominis literally growled, standing and pulling Threnody up with him.  He turned her to face him and he slammed his lips against hers, forcing his tongue between her lips.  Threnody was still in shock for a second before sinking back against him, opening her mouth to allow him to explore.

He heard Garreth in the back, “Ahh, trying to make it a better kiss?  I don’t mind you practicing mate, I promise I’ll still be the one to bed her.”

Holding onto her shoulders, Ominis pushed Threnody back from him, and turned her around.  She yelped as he pushed her against the table forcing her head down.  “Ominis?” Threnody called to him with worry.

“He has to know Renny.  I have to show him.”  He listened to her let out a sound of concern, but when he pushed her head back on the table, she didn’t fight.  Ominis lifted her skirt up over her behind, exposing her panties to him, and Garreth.

Garreth, sounding now a million miles away, “Ominis, what the hell are you doing?  You can’t do that here.”

“I can do it anywhere I like, Garreth.”  Ominis undoing his belt as he pressed against Threnody’s rear.  He reached into his pants and pulled out his cock, stroking it a few times as he slid the gusset of her panties to the side.  As Ominis pressed the tip of his cock against Threnody core, she whimpered.  “You’re so wet for me love, so ready.  You need to hold onto the table, this is going to be fast.” He listened for her hands to move out, grabbing onto the end of the table in front of her.

With one push, Ominis was fully inside of her.  Threnody let out a howl, a mix of pleasure and pain.  “You’ll never be her first for anything Garreth,” he moved, taking her hard, pulling back and slamming into her, the table moving forward slightly with each thrust.  “This is the first time she’s ever had a cock inside of her.  Fuck, does her cunt feel good.  Unbelievable how tight she is.”

He listened to Threnody’s cries echo throughout the library.  As Garreth began to talk, Ominis growled again and spoke over him.  “I will fuck her mouth and her ass too Garreth.  You’ll never get to be her first for anything.”

“Ominis, you need to stop.”  Garreth stated, the nerve clear in his voice.  Ominis heard a chorus of agreement, letting him know there were now several students watching.  

“Mr Gaunt! Stop that this instant!”  Scribner’s voice screeched in his ear.  “This is incredibly improper!”

Ominis moves one of his hands under Threnody, moving a finger to slip into her slick folds, rubbing his finger back and forth over her clit.  “Look at all these people Ren.  All here to see your pretty little pussy.  Watch it get fucked by my cock.  Tell them who this pussy belongs to, Threnody, tell them.”

“Ominis, it’s yours.  Please Ominis.  Ominis, Ominis?  Om?”

He felt the hands on his shoulders, shaking him.  “Did you fall asleep Ominis?  I thought the story of my first kiss would have interested you more, considering it was with you!”

Ominis lifted his head and blinked his eyes.  Threnody covered the hand that he had on her knee, running her thumb across the side.

“I can’t believe I lost out on her first kiss because I went to brush my teeth.  You are one sly snake, Ominis.”

“I um, uh, sorry Threnody, I must be more tired from today than I thought.”

Garreth grabbed his books, “Alright well, I’m headed out.  I think we should be able to finish this next time Ren.”

“Sounds good Garreth, we will make plans soon.”

Threnody and Ominis now found themselves alone at the table.  “Are you alright Ominis?  You’re a bit red.”

“Uh, I guess I was just daydreaming, don’t remember much though.”  ‘Please don’t ask me about it.’

Threnody lifted his hand up off her knee and brought it to her lips, lightly kissing his knuckles.

“Ren?” Ominis lowered his voice, forcing Threnody to move her face closer to him.  “Stay with me tonight?  I was so worried today that you were going to hate me because of everything with Anne.  I don’t want to be away from you right now.”

“I don’t know Ominis, how would we do that?”

“Just stay in the room with me.  You know Seb and I have it to ourselves.  We used to have sleepovers all the time in the undercroft during 5th year.”

“Sebastian will be with us right?  We will be doing nothing but sleeping - I just want to be clear.”

“Yes.  I…need you to be there.  Sort of like a buffer between him and I?  Please?”

Threnody sighed and stood up, pulling Ominis alone with her.  “Lets head back, I’ve got a few things to do before I can join you in your room.”  She felt a light kiss against her cheek, making her smile as they left the library.

They returned to the Slythern common room, moving through it and headed up to Ominis’ dorm.  Ominis didn’t worry himself about breaking the rules, while he wasn’t proud of being a Gaunt, he would use the name to his advantage when needed.  Not having to abide by all of the Hogwarts rules being one of them.  They found Sebastian sitting on his bed, already wearing his pajamas.  

Ominis heard Sebastian throw his blankets around, followed by “Ominis, you can’t just barge in here, I’m naked!”

“Oh gods,” Ominis shouted, while he pushed Threnody back behind him, trying to block her view.  “Sebastian, how many times have I told you, just because I am blind doesn’t mean you can parade around here in the nude!”  Threnody was pushing back against Ominis, moving forward, both she and Sebastian laughing.  

“Ominis, you should have seen your face!  You went from absolutely horrified to furious in seconds.”  Sebastian was rolling in his laughter.  Threnody sat down on his bed, patting his shoulder for a prank well done.

Still giggling, “I’m sorry Ominis, it was funny though!”  Threnody looked around the room as Ominis grumbled and moved towards his desk.  She pulled her wand out and cast engorgio on the other bed, expanding it enough to fit three people.

“Staying?” Sebastian asked.

“Mmm, planning to, if that is alright with you?”  

“I won’t say no to sleeping with a pretty lady.”  

Threnody rolled her eyes.  “I’m going to get ready for the night and grab some of my things.  I’ll be back soon.”  

She left the room, leaving Ominis and Sebastian on their own.  The room felt uncomfortable to Ominis, like the pressure from the water above the dorms was pushing in, bearing down on him.  

Sebastian cleared his throat before speaking, “Listen, I didn’t think you would get so upset about having slept with Anne.  Honestly, I’m a little offended, you could have at least pretended to have enjoyed it, for her sake.”

“For her sake?  She’s not here Sebastian, you know that better than anyone.  I didn’t have to pretend to like anything.  You knew, and I assumed she did as well that it felt more like an obligation to me than anything else.”  Ominis snapped back, trying to keep himself under control, but he was just so angry.  ‘He could have ruined everything!’  Ominis was beyond grateful that Threnody was the type of person who would come to her own conclusions, rather than just always take someone's word as fact.  He would have told her all the details eventually, if she hadn’t sought him out, but her coming to him at least made him feel like there was a chance she wasn’t ready to walk away.

“Obligated?  Why?  Because she is sick?”

“No, because…. because you both were, are my friends.  She, along with you, were very kind to me through some very difficult times.  Sleeping with her, well, it wasn’t the least I could do, but it was a way to give back to her.”

Both boys had begun to get themselves ready for bed during the conversation, Sebastian ending it with a grunt.  Sebastian was well aware that Ominis had only slept with Anne to be nice, but was hoping to make him feel guilty.  Maybe guilty enough to question his worth.  That would undoubtedly cause Ominis to question his relationship with Threnody.

While buttoning up his shirt, Ominis turned towards Sebastian.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, not knowing if what he was about to say was a good idea, but deciding to say it all the same.  While Threnody had asked him not to share their relationship with Sebastian yet, technically he was only gathering information, not sharing.  He needed to know, because he didn’t want to keep having to hide with her.

“Sebastian, all that aside, I do wish to ask your thoughts on something important.  How would you feel if I wanted to start courting Threnody?”  Ominis dropped his hands from his chest, feeling out for the bed, needing something to hold onto to keep him from wringing his hands.

Hearing Sebsatian respond with a laugh was not what Ominis expected.  “I’m not joking, Sebastian, I really enjoy her company, and would like to see if she and I could be more than friends.”

“She is the only girl that regularly interacts with you, of course you think you have feelings for her.  Even if your feelings were real, it’s not like it could go anywhere, you’d just be wasting time.” 

“Why do you think that?”

“It always comes down to your family, Ominis.”

“Threnody is as pureblooded as I am, my parents would not object to her!”

“Right, your parents won’t object, but her parents will.  Bringing that blood into their family?  No way.  It would be over before it even started.”

Ominis swallowed hard as he thought about what Sebsatian said.  He was always so concerned about his own parents, it didn’t occur to him that her parents may be the one to squash their relations.  Yes, they were great about having him, and his family at the summer wedding, but that would have partially been because of pureblood obligation and expectation.  Her parents obviously were fine with a friendship between them, but Sebastian had a point, Thernody’s family was not like his, and uniting the two may not be something of which they would approve. 

Sebastian had succeeded in planting a seed of doubt in Ominis.  Which, unbeknownst to Ominis, was the goal.  Ominis swallowed hard, his face clearly showing him deep in thought.  “Sebastian, I just meant to find out how you would feel about it, if her and I being together would make you uncomfortable…. I can worry about our families another time.”

“I think it would impact our friendship, how could it not?  I wouldn’t be able to still be cuddly with her, or the three of us together would always make me feel like I’m the odd man out, especially if you started snogging with her when I’m around.”

“It wouldn’t be like that, you know we would never want you to feel left out.  Yes, she and I would probably spend some more time alone, but that doesn’t mean our friendship with you has to suffer.”

“It just wouldn’t be fair Ominis, that you would get to have her, and I wouldn’t.  She means the same to both of us.”

While Ominis did not agree with that thought, he didn’t really know how to respond.  So he decided to just make his feelings clear.  “Sebastian, I want to be with her, so I am going to move forward with this.  I hope you’ll respect that.”  

Sebastian didn’t have a chance to answer, as Threnody returned knocking at their door.  Invited in, she walked over to the bed, jumping into it.  She pulled out her wand, pointing to the ceiling and casting a spell similar to what was in the Great Hall.  The ceiling suddenly became the night sky, several constellations shining above them.

“I passed astronomy already, Ren, don’t really need to see the night sky anymore.”

“Shut up Sebastian, it's just for my enjoyment.”

“If you wanted to see stars, all you had to do was ask, love.”  Sebastian wiggled his eyebrows and reached to grab Threnody’s hand.”

She scoffed and quickly crawled over Ominis, forcing him into the middle of the bed.  “I also wanted to show Ominis the night sky.”

“While I appreciate the sentiment, even you don’t have the magical power to help me see.”

“I guess it’s a good thing that I am going to use muggle magic.”

“Muggle magic?  What the hell is that?”  Sebastian watched as Threnody and Ominis shared, what he could only describe as ‘a look.’  It seemed like they had caught each others eyes and were staring as a slow smile grew on Threnody’s face.  “Hey,” Sebastian called, noticing Ominis’ hand barely moving forward until he reached hers, their fingers lightly tangling together.  “HEY,” yelling this time, causing the distracted couple to snap their heads towards Sebastian, and pulling their hands apart.  

Threnody recovered quickly, “Sorry Sebastian, what did you say?”

“Nevermind, just get on with whatever the hell you were going to show Ominis.”  Did they really think that their burgeoning relationship wasn’t obvious to him, especially with the doe eyes they keep flashing each other?  Idiots.  He needed to squash this, quickly.

The smile returned to Threnody’s face as she focused back on her plan.  “Ok Ominis, front or back?”

“Um, front? I guess?”

“Ok!  Lay down on your back.” 

Once Ominis is comfortably down, Threnody tells him that she will be touching him in a moment, not wanting to surprise him with her sudden touch.  He felt her fingers gently touch his top, her fingers grasping on to the button in the middle of his shirt.  He made an involuntary noise as she popped open the button.  “I’ll only do the bottom half, you don’t need to be fully exposed.”  Her voice sounded like a sweet whisper to his ears, and he could almost forget that Sebastian was in the room when he focused on her touch.  

She opened up the bottom half of his top, his skin reacting to the cool night air, the downy blond hair on his stomach prickling.  He nearly stuttered, “Wh..what are you going to do?”

“I told you, I’m going to show you the stars.”

Threnody pointed upwards, flicking her fingers and paging through the night sky until the first constellation she wanted to show Ominis appeared.  “See this one Sebastian?  It’s two constellations in one.  Ophiuchus,” her finger touched down onto Ominis, conjuring the tiniest ball of light where their skin met.  She copied the pattern from the sky, leaving a trail across Ominis’ belly.  

With bated breath, Ominis whispered “The Serpent Bearer.”

“That’s right.  One man holding a snake.  According to the Ancient Greeks, this is a representation of Asclepius, one of Apollo’s sons.  He was a healer, who had once killed a snake.  Luckily for the snake, a second snake placed some sort of revival herb on the first, allowing it to be resurrected.” 

Once she had touched Ominis enough to have placed the main stars, she began tracing a line, connecting them.  Her finger moved slowly, wanting to make sure that Ominis was able to follow the pattern.  Ominis was trying to pay attention, but every time Threnody’s finger would trace closer to his waistband, his mind would wander, hoping she would continue the path downward.  

“Since snakes shed their skin each year, they were considered symbols of rebirth.  Which, I can understand.  I can easily see how the three of us have all gone through some sort of rebirth during the past few years.”

The three of them sat in silence, each privately pondering the rebirths of which Threnody was speaking.  Threnody then leaned over, her mouth at level with Ominis’ belly.  She lightly blew across him, the tiny orbs lifting from his skin and dancing out into the air.  

Ominis was biting down hard on his lip, his hands clenching the sheets below him as he tried his best to stop his body from responding to her touch.  Knowing her lips were so close to his waist proved to be nearly too much for him, and he could feel his blood rushing below.

“Well, did you see the pattern Ominis?”  Sebastian's voice pulled Ominis out of his struggle.

“Ye…Yes, I did.”

Threnody smiled brightly.  “See Sebastian?  Muggle magic!  May I do another one?”

“You may, but let me turn over onto my stomach, it seems I may be a bit ticklish.”  Ominis lied, he needed to turn against the bed so his erection would not be so obvious to Threnody or Sebastian.  He knew it wasn’t going to go away if she continued to touch him.

Threnody scrolled through the sky again, stopping when she found the cluster of several constellations.

“Cassiopeia, the mythical queen, and in the sky, represented by a W shape.”  She tapped the stars onto Ominis’ back, his pale skin glowing under the light.  Sebastian watched with jealousy as she touched Ominis.  However, she kept eye contact with Sebastian for most of the story, smiling at him and making him feel included.

“Cassiopeia was married to Cepheus, and they had a daughter, Andromeda.” She delicately drew the Andromeda Constellation onto Ominis.  “Cassiopeia was incredibly vain though, and she talked about how she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs, which angered Poseidon.  Poseidon sent Cetus, a monster, to destroy the coast where Cassiopeia lived.  Cepheus planned to sacrifice Andromeda to the monster, hoping to placate Poseidon.”

She spoke in low tones, bringing a calm to the room, as though she was lulling them all to sleep.  “When Andromeda was chained to the rocks near the sea, Perseus appeared on Pegasus.”  She added the two new constellations to his back.  “They rescued Andromeda, falling in love and eventually marrying.”

“That's quite the story for what looks like simple stars.”  Sebastian commented as Threnody wiped the lights off of Ominis’ back, pulling his shirt back down.

“Well my dear boys, I think it is time for me to sleep.”  She reached into the air, yawning.  The top of her pajamas rose slightly.  

Sebastian started pushing Ominis over.  “Threnody in the middle please, I don’t want to wake up wrapped around Ominis.”  

They all grumbled moving around, settling.  Threnody turned away from Sebastian, facing Ominis.  Sebastian was not going to let the two of them cuddle off into their own little world, so he moved behind Threnody, spooning her body.  He knew she couldn’t say anything, if she asked him not to hold her, he would ask why, what had changed, as they have fallen asleep like this before.

Seb wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against him.  When they wished each other a goodnight, he pressed his lips to the back of her neck, making sure to kiss her loud enough for Ominis to hear.  He snuggled into her tightly, finding himself falling asleep quickly.

Threnody did not fall asleep.  Once she heard Sebastian’s breathing even out, she moved a hand forward to grab onto Ominis.

“I’m still awake too, Ren.”  His eyes were closed, but Ominis smiled at her.  

Whispering, “Sorry he got to me first.  It didn’t feel right to pull away.”

Ominis brought her hand to his lips, kissing her palm softly.  “I understand.”  He shifted himself closer to her.  “I do need your help with something though.”  He brought her hand down below his waist, helping her to grasp onto his still erect cock.

“Ominis…” she whispered, but she didn’t pull away.  

“You don’t have to do anything, I just want you to feel how good you make me feel.”  He slowly moved her hand up and down his length, “Feels so good Renny.”

She watched as a spot on his pants began to wetten, and she licked her lips.  With Ominis close to her now, she was able to lean forward and press her lips to his.  He moaned quietly into her mouth, gently lifting his hips to meet her strokes.  Threnody pressed harder, enjoying how his cock felt against her hand.  They continued like this for only moments, when Ominis placed his hand back over hers, stopping her from rubbing him.

“As much as I love this, I don’t want to cum with Sebastian here, holding onto you, awake or not.”  She squeezed him one last time, then pulled her hand away.  Ominis lay on his back, interlacing his fingers with hers and placing her hand over his heart.  Soon, all three of them were caught in slumbers embrace, content to all be connected, having always found peace when they all three were together.

______________________________________________________________

I didn't do a final edit of this because I just wanted to finally get it posted. In the scene where Ominis and Threnody were staring at each other, I was picturing in my head this one scene from The Secret Garden movie: https://youtu.be/1U35863ykd8?si=tYJb2dsA5r_2NkNY Man I loved that movie.

KThxbai

[abyssus-aeterna]

Closterkeller — Czas komety (The Time of the Comet)

Lyrics [PL]

Biały welon, gwiezdny tren, Patrząc w niebo słucham Cię. Słowa, które nic nie znaczą, Tylko aniołowie płaczą. Ciepły deszcz całuje twarz, Może kiedyś przyjdzie czas. Mówisz tak choć wiem, że kłamiesz, Nie uciekam z Twoich ramion. Ona jest czernią i bielą, Ona jest smutkiem i nadzieją, Ona ostatnią bogów wybranką, Moją sekretną siostrą i kochanką! Szłam, aż z nocą przegrał dzień, Wolno odwróciłam się. Blask komety wyrysował Zimny cień na mojej drodze. Dałam jej w ofierze lęk, Piłam światło jakby krew, Mój ból wsiąkał z deszczem w ziemię, Takie dziwne oczyszczenie. Ona jest czernią i bielą, Ona jest smutkiem i nadzieją. Ona ostatnią bogów wybranką, Moją sekretną siostrą i kochanką! Jutro znów powrócę, by dotknąć Jej, Nieśmiertelna wzywa mnie, Już nie czuję chłodu, gdy pada deszcz, Mogę znowu z Tobą być tutaj, gdzie: Nieśmiertelna daje mi swoją krew, Nie pytając nawet, czy jej chcę. Ona jest czernią i bielą, Ona jest smutkiem i nadzieją. Ona ostatnią bogów wybranką, Moją sekretną siostrą i kochanką! Ona jest czernią i bielą, Ona jest smutkiem i nadzieją. Ona ostatnią bogów wybranką, Moją sekretną siostrą i kochanką!

Lyrics [EN (translation)]

White veil, starry threnody, Looking up at the sky I listen to you. Words that mean nothing, Only angels cry. Warm rain kisses my face, Maybe one day the time will come. You speak thus though I know you are lying, I don’t run away from your arms. She is the blackness and the whiteness, She is the sorrow and the hope, She is the last of the gods’ chosen ones, My secret sister and lover! I walked until day gave away to night, Slowly I turned around. The glow of the comet traced A cold shadow on my path. I gave her fear in sacrifice, I drank the light as if it were blood, My pain soaked into the ground with the rain, Such a strange cleansing. She is the blackness and the whiteness, She is the sorrow and the hope, She is the last of the gods’ chosen ones, My secret sister and lover! Tomorrow I shall return again to touch Her, The Immortal one calls to me, I no longer feel the cold when it rains, I can be here with You again, where: The Immortal gives me her blood, Without even asking if I want it. She is the blackness and the whiteness, She is the sorrow and the hope, She is the last of the gods’ chosen ones, My secret sister and lover! She is the blackness and the whiteness, She is the sorrow and the hope, She is the last of the gods’ chosen ones, My secret sister and lover!

[seizethecarpe]

Deep Sea Blues || Dave and Adam

Timing: Around 2 months ago during the Sand and Glass plot of the week. Parties: @walker-journal @seizethecarpe Summary: Bloody Mary sets her sights on two murderers. Triggers: vomit mention, body horror mention, drug use, lots of blood mentions

Dave came to with a groan. This whole waking up in the middle of nowhere shtick was getting old. He’d thought the sleepwalking was over and done with, but no, here he was, in a dark cavern with a flickering light in it. Everything smelled of salt and rotting seaweed, thick and heavy in the air. The air itself was thick and heavy, popping his ears like a clan. The rocky floor beneath him was slick and wet too. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Dave stood slowly, trying to take in everything. There was a prone figure not too far away - he could feel them breathing through the water on the floor. The lantern, the only source of light here, was red, lit with oil, impossibly, looking for all the world like it’d been here for decades. It had rusted, the paint peeling and staining the rock around it, but still it was lit. It didn’t illuminate too much of the cave around them, but enough to get a feel. It was more like a tunnel, really, and they were on some sort of raised bit - on either side the floor dropped away into water lapping at the edge. The air tasted stale, there was no breeze rustling through here. Limited oxygen supply, maybe. He stepped into the water, getting a feel for what was nearby. Something as big as a tuna swam a hundred feet away, which by itself wasn’t weird, but Dave couldn’t feel any water crashing against the surface of a beach or against the edge of a cliff face. There was no water churning in air nearby at all. For a second, he thought he saw a pair of eyes looking back at him, but with a flicker of the oil light, they were gone. His lips pressed in a firm line, he stepped back out of the water. “Hey, you waking up back there?”

 The dampness of the cove’s stone was the first sensation that registered to Adam's mind, unyielding but unpleasantly jagged and moist with tide scum against his cheek. The sharp smell brine in the cave’s thick poorly filtered air filtered into. Lantern light pierced his closed eyelids, and Adam’s body clicked into pure trained reflex before conscious thought even began. 

 Adam sprang to his feet in gymnast’s kick-up, green-hazel eyes immediately hard with hostility. “Who are you! Why’d you bring me here?” The snarling words were accompanied by Adam reaching behind him to draw a concealed knife. But the impending threat was cut short by Adam’s hand finding nothing there 

 Dave’s eyebrows rose slightly. Now that wasn’t something you saw every day. He raised a hand to show he wasn’t armed or intending to hurt, eyes narrowed. “I didn’t. Not too sure how I got here myself. Name’s Dave.” He looked back around the space, but kept his senses attuned to the other man. “One moment I was fishing, the next, I woke up here.” Fishing was one thing to call it, but it had involved a net, and his prey was living in the water. Dave ran his tongue over his teeth in thought, before realising he wasn’t wearing his teeth caps. He’d have to be careful with how he spoke, then. 

 “If I had to guess, we got caught in some sorta rip tide.” That didn’t really even begin to make a lick of sense, but the disbelieving folks bought anything, these days. “Do you have any idea which way might be out?”

 “No clue,” Adam admitted. “Like on the way down did you…”

 Light brown eyes gazed up at Adam from the still water, belonging to a smooth face with a high forehead and cascades of red-gold hair that framed lithe shoulders in way even Adam’s groggy brain appreciated. She was a tall woman, nearly six feet of trim athleticism gained from a lifetime of riding, tennis playing, and dancing at court. The woman in water wore a mourning gown of black and white whose cut was cut was severe despite the richness of the fabric. 

 She seemed to not look at Adam so much as directly within him, a primal understanding between two murderers whose fair features and self-effacement had masked bloody intentions until it was far too late. 

 A blink, and it was just a cavern pool, dark and featureless in dim claustrophobia of this chthonic cove. 

 “Um,” Adam tried to collect his thoughts, forgetting what he’d been about to ask. “I’m Adam by the way. Let’s try this fork over here, see if it goes anywhere.” 

 Adam, whatever else he was, seemed real distracted. Dave hadn’t seen whatever he’d been looking at but nodded silently as he followed Adam through the caves. It was like they were walking on a ledge, and the water was always to their left, this unnaturally thick air holding it at bay. There was the smallest ripple in the water behind them, enough to make Dave turn. She was hovering out of the surface of the water, looking delicate as jellyfish, her skin so pale it was translucent. She met his stare with eyes that practically glowed with loathing, like she had been digging through his entrails and hadn’t like what she had found. A moment later, she sank back below the water surface. 

 Dave put his hand in the water and didn’t feel anything. He had a sinking feeling in his gut, about a type of ghost that he’d really fucking like to not deal with in a cave. He looked back at Adam, who was unavoidably a young, handsome man, which didn’t help his suspicions. Rusalka often targeted Adam’s sort, and they were a nightmare to deal with if you didn’t have someone with incredible strength to match theirs. Shit. There wasn’t much else that Dave could see

 “Might be worth avoiding the water.” Out of arm’s reach if a ghost decided to jump out in the first place. 

 “Joseph Jolly,” a voice whispered, but somehow the whisper echoed in the cave, a woman’s voice dripping in judgement. A name belonging to a renowned spellcaster, who had in the end deserved to have his skull cracked open like a chicken egg, fifty feet underneath the water surface. Dave narrowed his eyes, looking around and wondering if the goddamn guilt ghosts were back. Nothing. 

 Adam was surveying a small trawler that lay quietly rotting in one of the coves’ erosion-smoothed curvatures. The damp decades had turned the hull into mass of rust and barnacles. The footballer hoisted himself over the corroded railing up into the cockpit with the ease of a born athlete who wasn’t overburdened by caution. 

 Footsteps echoed dulled in the hull as Adam dropped down out of sight to root around in the hold. Whatever dereliction or treasures the young man found elicited only a disappointed “well shit.” After several scraping sounds against oxidized metal, Adam’s wet tawny hair reappeared again as he clambered back up into the half-intact cockpit. 

Adam had jumped down onto the cove floor when there came a whisper. The college student tensed instinctively and scanned their premises in the manner of one used to searching for strange noises with a rifle to back him up. “So, uh...are you Joseph Jolly?” 

 “No. I’ve never heard that name before,” Dave lied, like he hadn’t spent weeks tracking the man down, concocting an elaborate trap so that one day when Joseph was looking for seaweed for a spell, Dave had lunged out of the water to bite his ankle and dragged him down to the depths. He clambered over the trawler to get to the other side of the path, walking until he reached the water. “Still just Dave.”

 “Dead end this way.” It might not be, of course, but if there was a way to get out without risking facing a Rusalka under the water, and like hell was he leaving the kid here if he could avoid it. They had to have gotten here somehow. “Let’s circle back and try the other path at that fork. The sooner we get out of here, the better.” He looked at the trawler suspiciously. The lantern lights flickered on the water surface and the whispering returned, bouncing off the cavern walls, ringing off the rusted metal. This time, the quiet British voice didn’t just talk about Joseph Jolly, but dozens of names. Dave knew too many of them, just not all.

 ‘James Ross’

 Adam whirled at the from where he’d been inspecting an overturned paddle boat that been irretrievably shattered by whatever vortex forced had sucked it down into this air bubble. James’s name pushed all the MacGyver-esq musing right out of his head, filling him only with memories of the night the Jenga Tower of a holy cause finally came tumbling down at the sight of his friend’s slit throat. 

 ‘Winn Woods’

 “Who the fuck are you! Show yourself!” But the cavern only echoed Adam’s following stream of a profanity back at him, punctuated only by the slow drip of water in the dark. 

 “Ok, Dave, the hell is going on,” Adam demanded, tensing as heat built in his chest. 

 “Like hell if I-” Dave paused, looking at the oil lamp light flickering on the still water behind Adam. 

 The figure was beautiful, water lapping at her ankles as she walked forward. Rusalka often were, which was half the damn danger. She wasn’t soaking in her ethereal figure, but blood stained the edges of her garments. She had a long silver shard of mirror in one hand. Her lips moved as her voice echoed more names. Sylvia Pevensie, Jason Nakamura. She didn’t look happy. “Adam,” Dave said in a quiet growl, picking up a piece of driftwood that was too sodden to be any kind of useful weapon. “Get behind me.” 

 The ghost smiled slightly, and then lunged, her mirror shard raised. 

 Adam’s thoughts raced as the Euro-LARPer monster started going all The Shining on Dave. It was galling to put this dude in danger, but Adam had no weapon at the moment and getting shived for the sake of macho pride didn’t do either of them any good. This thing was fast, like really fast. Adam kept to Dave’s flank as the bloody spirit blitzed forward in a madhouse whirl of slashes, the surgical edges of glass as more names issued forth in an echoing threnody through the cave. 

 Adam’s water-logged brain, still dizzy from whatever barotrauma of pressures he’d gone through while being dragged down here, went through everything he knew about Rusalka, Nix, and other swimmer babes who might want to do a Little Mermaid and American Psycho crossover. He kept drawing blanks and contradictions before Blanche’s theory a few days ago and stuff Dad had said way been they’d been stationed in Westminster came together. 

 Much as Adam was averse to out himself to Dave and tended to keep his nature on the DL. There comes a time when things get a little too Lord of the Flies to really justify remaining silent. 

 Adam tried to duck and roll as her murderous majesty pivoted from Dave suddenly, but she landed a long slash down the Hunter’s back. Seawater from his damp clothes made the jagged wound sear through him, and Adam struggled to regain his feet on the damp stones as the deep laceration made his leg muscles spasm and grow dangerously numb. 

 “She’s Bloody Mary, like the creepy kids’ game. She goes after murderers,” Adam stated hoarsely as watery blood slid freely down his back and legs, leave a dark red trail across the cove sand as he tried to avoid Mary’s attempts to hamstring him. 

 The flickering oil light was as much help as hindrance, always highlighting the mirror shard as she arced it through the air. Dave moved with practiced dodges and while she was spirited and fast, her body signalled her intentions as much as any other fighter. Fortunately, Adam had the sense to stay just as much out of the way as the ghost and her blade danced through the cave with the vicious temper and grace of an electric eel. As soon as she was almost fully out of the water, Dave tried to body slam her to the ground, only to move right through her. Not Rusalka. Well, shit. With that in mind he left himself duck and weave his way into knee-deep water, breathing deeply to catch a hint of fresh air and a way out. Even where he was more comfortable, her blade drew red lines across his body, cutting his shirt to ribbons one swipe at a time. 

 His selkie nature may give him an advantage with water, but Dave was not immune to the laws of physics. The algae clad slippery rocks offered no friction as they moved, and it only took one underbalanced dodge for Dave to lose his balance. Fortunately, instead of landing in the rocks, he landed in the pool, feeling the ripples against the most sensitive hair of his face, and seeing in the dark a subtle shift of the light, twenty feet away, where the flickering oil light didn’t bounce off under water cave holes but instead gave way to darkness, and a way out. He pushed himself onto his feet, blinking as his eyes adjusted back to the air and the bright firelight. He had been about to push himself out in front of Adam again when he saw the kid’s moves, while hampered by injury, were strategic and trained. Not in need of as much protection as thought. 

 Dave only caught the tail end of what Adam was saying, that the figure in front of them only went after murderers. He only nodded to acknowledge that he’d heard, not wasting fractions of a second in questioning the information or the implications thereof. Miss Murder might have been untouchable, but the mirrored glass in her hand was as real as anything. Dave grabbed a broken rock from the seabed and raised it as she whipped her own blade back. He brought it down, through her arm until it cracked through her glass weapon, breaking it in half. It wasn’t destroyed, but the largest part was still shrunken in her hand. Bloody Mary retaliated by clawing her nails across his face. Dave yelled, covering his face as he retreated into the water, Bloody Mary taking precious seconds to readjust her grip. 

 “Get in the water,” Dave growled as he staggered back, blood seeping from his eyelid into his eye. “How long can you hold your breath?”

 Normally Adam might question the wisdom of going out into an unknown distance below sea level while wounded and with a Catholic Supremacist ghost on their tail, especially since the salt in the water didn’t seem to give her any trouble. But they had no way to actually hurt Mary in here, so sure, let’s Ironman Lanzarote this thing. 

 Mary caught Adam deep in the right shoulder with the sunken remnant of a shard as he made a staggering break towards the water. She tore the broken mirror out of the Hunter with the deft precision of a surgeon’s scalpel, whispering an all-too-familiar name in his ear. Black spots blossomed and quivered in Adam’s vision as he waded off the cove’s drop off, salt flared across his open wounds like a whip. 

 “Longer than I’ll make in here,” he gagged. 

 That sure filled Dave with confidence, but neither of them could afford another stab wound. Hell, Dave wasn’t sure if he waited much longer without medical treatment that he could do the swim for the two of them, as blood stained the water around him, thick and heavy considering how much blood his body held. 

 “Great. Deep breath.” Dave said, filling his lungs one last time as he grabbed Adam’s body in warning before pulled him under, kicking deep into the dark water. He pulled Adam’s arm firmly across his own chest, the speed through which he was already moving them through the water emphasis enough as to why Adam should let him do the swimming. He could taste their blood in the water as he began to manoeuvre through the crevices of the cave channel. The salt water didn’t slow Bloody Mary, whose knife Dave felt ripple through the water behind them, slicing at his ankle. Dave jolted and contorted away from it, trailing more blood behind him as he kicked to the surface. By the time they emerged from the cave mouth there were 50 feet between them and the surface. The seconds ticked by as Dave tried to swim towards the distant shore as he ascended, treading the tightrope between not drowning Adam, not letting the ghost catch up with them, and not killing Adam with the bends. He could feel the waves breaking overhead, adjusting his angle again to push Adam into the air first.

 Adam choked on his own blood in the water. The autumn-chilled water was a frigid vice of sensory deprivation and pressure all over his rapidly numbing body. Salt water flensed his wounds like icicles sinking between ribs until even pain became lost in the current. 

 James Ross, Winn Woods, Iris Canidy, Elias Angelopoulos... 

 The names went on, a litany of sin chasing Adam down in the cold darkness and dreams of sanguine mirrors.  

 Adam’s eyes opened blurrily as oxygen and the sound of the surf crashed through the nightmare fog of red glass. He faintly felt sand against his calmly skin, grainy mounds that made faintly audible rustling sounds as Adam tried to fight against the leaden feeling in his limbs. 

 The Hunter tried to speak, but spent a bit just urping up bloody salty water on the beach before benign able to hack out: “Dave?”  

 “That’s a relief,” Dave said as Adam managed to speak, hefting himself onto the sand and looking out at the water, blinking to adjust to the loss of certain colours in his vision and the bright light in his eyes. Still, he would have seen the ghostly figure on the waves by now. “I don’t see her. Jesus fucking Christ.” 

 They needed an ambulance. Dave only had to contend with the sort of bleeding that would give a doctor a heart attack, but human-smelling Adam had the icy cold and the pressure changes to contend with too. Dave could barely summon the strength to hold his own weight, though, as he tried the stem the bleeding along his chest, but the sand around him continued to darken. He needed the shit in his van. Dave rubbed his face and looked over at Adam, cursing softly under his breath as he moved back closer, taking stock of Adam’s injuries, his blue lips stained with his own blood. Shit. The kid was too damn young to have the number of names that ghost had attached to him.  “Your back’s in bad shape. I wanna try’n stem the bleeding before I get to my van to call for an ambulance. It ain’t far, alright?”

 When Adam had thought his current loss of powers had been due to something related to the werewolf bite, he’d trade Alain for some Zombie adrenal glands. The plan had been to trade yet more favors with dubious sources in the underworld to get those adrenal glands treated into some Doctor X elixir. Maybe the transitive regeneration of the Elixir could kickstart his own Hunter healing? Admittedly desperation makes you open to some ridiculous longshots. 

 Heh, he’d done a legit science experiment, injecting himself with chemically altered necrophage tissue...Regan would be so proud. 

 Sample Size: This still powerless dumbass. 

 But many Babineaux’s generosity wasn’t pointless after. 

 Focus, need to focus. Keep eyes open 

 “Dave,” Adam managed quietly, “when you go the van...in a sand pit by the tide pools there's a backpack. In the font pocket there’s a bottle of black tarry stuff,” Adam continued, breathing labored and shallow as he struggled to keep upright on the sand. “Drink some...and if you could bring the rest back that’d be poggers.” 

 What the fuck was poggers? Dave wasn’t even sure he’d heard it right, Adam was so quiet, but the consonants were pretty fucking distinct on his lips. He hesitated for a second before nodding.

 “.... I’m calling an ambulance first. If I get back and that stuff works, I’ll call them off. You ain’t bleeding out out here, you hear me? You’re gonna hold this here,” Dave slipped off his blood-soaked shirt, bunched it up in his fist, pressed it against the back of Adam’s shoulder where he’d been stabbed, and pushed Adam’s hand against it, “and you’re gonna stay awake.” And Dave was going to push himself to his feet, ignoring the sharp pain of his ankle, and he was going to hobble as quick as he damn well could back to his van. One mile. There and back. He wouldn’t be, couldn’t be more than a few minutes. 

 Dave grabbed the bag and hefted it back to his van, his legs buckled by the door as the white-hot lacerating pain cut through him again. Had it been front pocket? Back pocket? He rummaged a little, but he knew it the second he pulled out the black bottle. Fucking elixir. Even perfectly sealed, the bottle stank of death and decay. Dave didn’t know what exactly was in it, knew it was bad and that he didn’t want to know. He’d also seen the effects on dependent folk, their own flesh rotting decomposing as they looked for the next dose. Dave gagged as he unscrewed the lid, taking the smallest sip. Worse than eating rotting squid, worse than a haul out. The elixir slid down his throat like slime, with disconcerting lumps in it. With a grimace, he closed the bottle and got back in the van, already feeling his skin begin to stitch itself back together. By the time he was back, he was hardly bleeding at all, his head clearing up. “Still awake, kid? Here’s your damn elixir.” In the state Adam was in, Dave was ready to force feed it down his throat. 

 The Elixir tasted like meat so rotted that it’d turned brackish, laced with spices and formaldehyde. Adam’s veins ran black with the unnatural necrophage blood he’d taken into his system, dark lines spreading like tainted roots along his face, neck, biceps. But the bleeding stopped at least and that ghastly sense of lightness through his body seemed to recede. Adam’s lips parted to thank Dave, but his eyes drifted coastline. 

 A woman rose from the sea as if she was ascending the stairs of a royal dias. Waves broke through here unhindered, the rolling surf not stirring a single fold of her elegant black and white silks. She strode towards the pair with unhurried dignity, like something implacable, feet leaving no marks on the sand. 

 “Mary’s here,” Adam said quietly, from where propped up against a mussel-covered rock. 

 “You gotta speak up, kid, can’t hardly hear you-“ Dave turned to follow Adam’s line of sight, cursing as he scrambled to his feet. She walked without hurry, her features calm. She was listing names again, as even and clear as the bells at a funeral. Paul, Zihui, Joseph, James, Iris. A claxon of murder. Dave’s chest sank. He reached down to help Adam up, heave him to the car or something. He had no idea how well that elixir worked, but just because ther was some colour back in Adam’s cheeks didn’t mean he was ready to run, and if Bloody Mary was intent on them, well…

“We gotta move,” Dave said, bringing that thought to a sharp close.

 Bloody Mary crossed the distance in between the blinks of Adam’s eyes, hauling the Hunter to his knees as he stumbled up a dune towards Dave’s car. Whether it was the X-elixir still rushing through his veins, exhaustion, or some subtle influence of Bloody Mary, Adam saw more than his reflection in the glass shard the spectre pressed against his throat. 

 In the mirror, Adam saw a boy with shaggy brown hair look through though empty rooms in a neighbor’s house. He called out his friend's name but reviewed only muffled sobs in answers. The boy followed them into a spotless kitchen where steam wafted from a single pie on the countertop. The crust pie’s texture was that of skin, topped with too familiar tufts of hair. A quavering voice whispered the boy’s name.

 Adam met Mary’s tawny-colored eyes. A moment of silent understanding passed between from one killer to another as blackened blood ran down from where the glass shard was pressed against Adam’s throat. “I used to think it was my powers that set me apart, my calling or whatever,” he confessed to her majesty. “But gone and I’m still fucked up in the head. 

 Mary remained silent but didn’t press the shard in further. Her regal aquiline features cold yet knowing. Perhaps the Bloody Queen of the Scots knew better than anyone how the curse of Cain so often spreads from one life to another. 

 In the mirror, Adam saw a shaggy haired boy swinging an axe down on a mangled body he’d pinned to the floor of a woodshed. The shed’s door creaked open, but the boy just kept wordlessly splitting lifeless limbs like kindling. “They’re dead, Adam,” came a low voice as calloused hands tried to grab the axe as it came down over and over on what'd once been a person. The frenzied young man felt scarred muscular arms encircle him, holding him fast till the gory weapon was finally pried from a death-like grip. The Hunter quietly held his son as the crazed boy punched and struggled in a blind frenzy, staining his shoulder with tears. 

 “The stuff I saw it like...changed me I guess,” Adam said as more reflections danced across the mirror’s edge. “I’ve been fighting the worst of the worst for so long that it’...it’s what I automatically expect now I guess,” Adam said as blood being repaid with blood flickered across the glass.”

 In the mirror, Adam saw a familiar face with dark eyes that’d seen the depraved and unspeakable so often it was simply a numb day at work. The boy who’d found his friend baked into a pie was still in there somewhere. But the horror and anguish had been tempered like iron, shaped into deadly focus by those who’d clothed him Kevlar and replaced the axe in his hands with an assault rifle. 

 “I tried not to let evil be all I see but it changed me so much that…”

 “Winn Woods,” Mary interrupted, seeming to already know.

 Adam’s swallow deepened the blooming cut on his neck. “Yeah,” he agreed. “When he confessed it just confirmed the world I knew. I dunno when exactly I’d stopped hoping for something better but…” 

 The queen who’d made pyres out of Protestants waited Hunter shrugged helplessly, wincing as his lacerated back protested. 

 “I have to believe what I did was wrong,” Adam insisted hoarsely, “I rather have to atone for all this shit then be right,” was the paradoxical statement of faith. “Because if I’m right all along? There’s no hope for any of us.” 

 But the last word was spoken to empty air. He and Dave were alone with the rolling surf. 

 One moment Adam had been beside him, the next he was gone. Dave turned to see Adam and the ghost before him. It was an unnerving image, the ghost so pale Dave had to imagine that her skin had been translucent even in life, blood staining the hem of her time-worn dress, standing tall and proud over the bleeding, bedraggled boy. They were frozen in their moment, by the blade in her hand that she held against Adam’s shivering skin. There was iron in Dave’s van, but he stood frozen too, knowing it was too late to act, and Adam seemed to know it too. It looked like complete surrender, even from a distance. Dave did not see the images on the blade. He did not need to, when it was shown so clearly on Adam’s face. 

 There were all sorts that thought what made them different was what made them special, but few that referred to it as their calling, that saw their duty to fight the worst of the worst. There were bits that didn’t make sense, but with each word, a little more fell into place. The practiced rhythm to Adam’s movements in the cave, the knowledge, the bloody list of murders to his name. The air smelled like salt, and weeds, and the copper of Adam’s blood as it stained her knife and the ground all around him. Dave wondered for a brief, hateful second, if it was so wrong to leave Adam to die as just another hunter who had gone off the deep end. He did not move, and the air barely whispered as Bloody Mary moved on.  

 Dave breathed shakily, eyeing Adam. Bloody Mary’s knife might barely have cut through the tension in his expression. Few hunters knew the names in Dave’s own ledger, and none learned this fast. But it was true that had Mary turned her blade at Dave’s neck, there would have been no penance in him to stay her blade. Adam’s guilt had saved Dave’s life. He rubbed his face, grimacing at the smell of decay that now permeated every inch of him. “C’mon, kid,” Dave said eventually, offering Adam his hand once more. “I got your bag in my van.” And a first aid kit, too.  

[findmyrupertfriend]

I Watch Homeland So You Don’t Have To - Season 8 Episode 8 Threnody(s)

No Quinn...not in the physical sense. His name is not mentioned. But he was front and center in my heart, and it broke all over again. Lamentations abound.

After a brief reprieve, Haqqani was executed by a firing squad. The reprieve was supposed to be for 24 hours, to allow the US to rescue Max from Jalal and his Taliban soldiers. It was an agreement between President Hayes and G’ulom. However, President Hayes is a wishy, washy, useless excuse of a President. His new advisor, John Zabel (Hugh Darcy), crooks his finger and convinces Hayes that the odds of rescuing are not high enough to put forth the effort to rescue Max. After all, who is Max to Zabel and Hayes, but a nobody? 

But not to us 💔

Yevgeny informs Carrie about Haqqani’s execution as she watches the compound through binoculars for any sight of Max. She sees soldiers taking him to a vehicle and gets ready to follow. However, Jalal exits the compound and draws his gun on Max, shooting him three times as Carrie watches from afar.

Their vehicles drive off, and Carrie races to Max’s side. She checks his pulse and puts her arms around him. She lays her head on his shoulder and cries.  She mourns. She actually mourns.

Then she calls Saul to tell him Max is dead. She’s angry and blames him for not doing his job and protecting Max. Saul agrees to have Special Ops pick up Max’s body, but there’s something else to discuss.

Saul: “Carrie, you know you can’t do this.”

Carrie: “Do what?”

Saul: “Keep running around out there with a GRU officer.”

Carrie: “That GRU officer was the only person who gave a shit what happened to Max.”

Saul: “You gotta come in.”

Yevgeny and his men drive up and offer to take him inside, but Carrie insists on carrying Max’s body with Yevgeny. She carries his body. Did she carry Quinn’s body when he died? Did the writers of Homeland allow Carrie to really show any grief for Quinn? NO! This is SO fucked up! Max deserves this grief and this attention, but Quinn didn’t?!?!?

Meanwhile, Jalal shows up to a Shura Rahbaraan, a meeting to determine Haqqani’s successor, while another Taliban soldier is addressing the group, supporting peace. Jalal is having none of it. He sensationalizes the fact that Haqqani didn’t die with the first round of bullets. He dropped to his knees, but stood back up for more, and that’s when he died in a second round of bullets. Jalal also pulls out an RPG and says he’s the one who shot down both helicopters. He rallies the soldiers and incites them to embrace his position, one of violence.

Later, Jalal is confronted by the Taliban soldier who supported peace. He says he knows Jalal did not shoot down the helicopters, and that he was nowhere near them. Jalal handles this in a surprisingly calm manner, leaving the ball in the other soldier’s court.

It’s nighttime now, and Carrie has been sitting with Max’s body since bringing him inside one of the compound buildings. Yevgeny approaches her to basically figure out what is her plan. Special Ops doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to pick up Max or her, for that matter. 

All she knows is she is staying with Max and going back to Kabul with him. Carrie tells him he can leave if he wants, but he says they have time. He asks about Max, which gives Carrie an opportunity to share how important Max was to her...but yet Homeland totally glossed over how important Quinn was supposed to be to Carrie! 

Again, Max is beloved, and I am glad Homeland gave Carrie these words to say about him. It’s just another stab in the heart that AFG couldn’t even bother to do something more for Quinn.

Yevgeny: “Who is he?”

Carrie: “Oh, this is Max.”

Yevgeny: “Okay.”

Carrie: “The one I’ve known forever. I’ve told you about my whole life. I must’ve said something about him.”

Yevgeny: “No. You never did.”

And Carrie looks genuinely pained. She nods her head and looks at Max.

Carrie: “Well, Max would do anything for me. Absolutely anything. Wherever I’d go, he’d...he’d end up there by my side. And the reason I never mentioned him...is I took him for granted. I...used him...all these years and...now he’s dead.”

Carrie loses it. She full-on grieves, crying apologies over and over to Max. She kneels over and leans on his body before turning to Yevgeny’s arms. 

All those words. But none of those words were used for Quinn. None of these deep tears and apologies were given for Quinn. None. NONE. It’s a fucking shame this show took a hero like Quinn and shit all over him again. I’m sad for Max, and I’m sad for Quinn.

While Carrie deeply mourns Max, Zabel is getting wind of Jalal’s meeting. A friend of Zabel’s came through with some intel when he requested dirt on Wellington, Saul, and Ryan. His friend has video showing Jalal’s confession to shooting down the helicopters and killing the presidents. And now, Zabel takes this intel directly to Hayes (even though Zabel is told it’s unverified and can’t use it), who will change his speech and provide that unverified intel to the world, basically declaring war on air during his presidential address. 

Mike informs Saul Special Ops will be leaving soon to pick up Max’s body. Saul plans to go, and Mike is all like, what for? When Saul tells Mike he is bringing Carrie back, Mike refers to Carrie as a defector, to which Saul takes offense. Then Mike basically goes “Tomato-Tomato” 🍅and refers to her as a “collaborator with a Russian agent.” Saul defends Carrie, but Carrie’s status with everyone else is still cloudy at best...especially the Special Ops team.

Saul corrects Special Ops, saying that they will not be apprehending Carrie, that she’s not a Russian agent, and that she’s coming in on her own. They circle around Yevgeny and Carrie, and Max’s body laying on the ground outside the compound. Saul looks incredulous, seeing Yevgeny.

Yevgeny warns Carrie that she won’t be received well, but Carrie says Saul has her back. Yevgeny kinda throws it in her face that maybe so, but instead Carrie came to him. 

Carrie: “I can’t stay out here forever.”

Yevgeny: “Why not?”

As the helicopter approaches, Yevgeny departs while Carrie yells out a “thank you.” Yevgeny and his men watch from a distance as Saul and Special Ops arrive to retrieve her and Max. Saul fills Carrie in about Hayes’ speech and asks for her help. Carrie tells Saul that she has a lead on the black box. Saul wants to follow it up together and get to the truth. 

Carrie: “But no more bullshit about my loyalty, not from Mike, the FBI, anyone. I did what had to be done.”

Saul: “I know. I’m on your side.”

Carrie: “Are you?”

Saul: “I am. You know that.”

On the way back to the helicopter, Saul asks if Yevgeny knows about the black box. Carrie says no, he thinks this was all about Max. Oh, the Max you just blubbered over? Now you are back to using him again.

Everything’s going swimmingly until Special Ops want to search Carrie and put her in restraints before she gets on the plane. And then it’s like HELL TO THE NO, BITCHES! 

Saul tries to smooth things over, but it gets real, real fast. Special Ops and Carrie draw on each other. Saul yells for everyone to stand down and gets in between Carrie and the US soldiers. Yevgeny and his men pull their guns as well. While everyone dances around each other, Yevgeny shoots his gun in the air. Carrie is backing away from Saul and the helicopter, and towards Yevgeny.

Saul: “Don’t do this. Come back with me.”

Carrie: “What, so we can work together?”

Saul: “Yes, I need you.”

Carrie: “In fucking handcuffs?”

Saul: “That was a mistake. I didn’t know.”

Carrie: “YOU LIAR!”

Oh, Carrie’s face, and the way she spit out her last words to Saul...How many times have Carrie and Saul been on the outs with each other? Too many to count, but Carrie walks away and gets into Yevgeny’s vehicle...the man who basically held her prisoner for seven months? Saul can’t do anything but leave, cursing everyone. 

Saul and Carrie watch each other as the distance grows between them -- Carrie from Yevgeny’s car and Saul from the helicopter in the air. Carrie tells Yevgeny she needs to find something else...the black box. 

Yevgeny doesn’t look pleased. Is it because the Russians are behind the helicopters going down? We know it wasn’t Haqqani. It wasn’t Jalal. It wasn’t Tasneem or the Pakistanis. Perhaps we haven’t ruled out G’ulom entirely, but he could have had help from the Russians. Carrie may have just left the frying pan with Saul and jumped into the fire with Yevgeny.

Final Thought: RIP Max and Quinn. I hope they are trading quips and drinking together on a beach somewhere.

[hellyeahomeland]

Threnody(s) | Directed by Michael Klick, Cinematography by David Klein

Sara: The solitude of Haqqani’s final day continues to remind me of what they did with Brody in season three. No resistance, total acceptance. I still don’t know why the writers went in this direction, as it seems very intentional. Is Haqqani Saul’s Brody?

Gail: Haqqani’s acceptance of his fate is framed so beautifully in this shot of him quietly reading. The colors of this scene are very serene and spa-like as well. All of it together is very calming, which is a little odd given the metal bars that remind us he is in jail.

Gail: The shots into the cells of the other prisoners look much less serene than Haqqani’s adding a layer of unease to Haqqani’s dead man walking.

Sara: I mentioned this moment in my recap. The prisoners banging their cups on the cell walls is a real thing that happens in American prisons on death row. I loved this (horrifying) detail and act of protest.

Sara: These two men, both framed in shadow, but with completely opposite fates. These are such incredible shots.

Gail: The cape is to G’ulom like the separated beard is to John Zabel.

Sara: I would have loved the details of these framed photos on Zabel’s wall but the payoff with Wellington’s line– “for someone who was never in the military, you sure do have a pictures of tanks”–makes me doubly love it!

Gail: Ugh, THAT BEARD.

Sara: This on the other hand… If you read closely (and the show allows for it, as they do several close-ups of the text), this speech actually looks startlingly like what Hayes says at the end of the episode. Right down to the details about Jalal Haqqani being the one responsible for the presidents’ murders. This threw me for such a loop when I watched the episode that I was going full-on conspiracy thinking Zabel was in on it. Then I realized it was probably just a gaffe, albeit a massive one. What say you, Gail?

Gail: Oh weird! Has to be a gaffe since Zabel did not know about Jalal at that point. I do love the details on the speech though!

Sara: Haqqani refuses a hood, just like Brody…

Gail: If I had hair like that, I’d refuse that hood too.

Gail: Saul bearing witness to Haqqani’s death is very similar to when he watched Jalal’s brush with death earlier in the season. I also think it’s important to note that Saul stays to watch it. There is honor in that gesture.

Sara: Saul physically jumping when Haqqani was shot is something I won’t forget.

Sara: The scope of this shot is quite masterful. Saul and G’ulom standing opposite each other, both dressed in black. Haqqani’s dress almost blending in seamlessly with the ground and wall behind him, save for the bright red blood stains on his shirt.

Gail: It feels religious as well.

Sara: This is an incredible (and incredibly sad) sequence. The device of Carrie watching Max die from afar and then running a great distance to close that gap was dramatically stunning. Then the contrast when she arrives and gets as close to him as possible.

Gail: Like Saul, Carrie bears witness to a death. And like Saul, there is nothing Carrie can do to stop it. Like Sara, I thought Carrie’s run to Max was beautifully done. The last shot of Carrie holding him in this tight shot put us right there with her.

Sara: I’ll just say it, Linus looks cute in glasses.

Gail: He’s really grown on me!

Gail: I loved how the light filtered through the windows onto Haqqani. The light feels peaceful, even hopeful. Carrie’s call to Saul breaks through the quiet ritual he is observing. Carrie’s heartbreak over Max is palpable. I love how she was sitting down on the ground next to him. She was on his level and protective.

Sara: The way they shot the scene of Saul observing the preparation of Haqqani’s body is so visually similar to Brody observing Issa in “Crossfire” it must be intentional. That said, this phone call between Carrie and Saul reminds me of a brilliant line from Jacob Clifton’s recap of “The Choice”:

“The first time she says his name, he ignores it. The girl whose heart he tried to break, before she died. The girl who tried to tell him love and loss of self were worth it, before he left for a monster’s funeral. He ignores her voice because he would come apart if he could hear it. But the second time she names him, he turns around. It breaks him open.”

Gail: I blame Tasneem for this one.

Sara: Well, my prediction last week that we don’t need to worry about Jalal because they showed him to be quite stupid didn’t pan out too well! That said, I loved they way they shot this scene.

Sara: This episode has so many standout scenes. The climax here, of Carrie kneeling down beside Max to apologize for taking him for granted, is haunting. I just… fuck, I don’t know. This was so good. This moment feels religious in nature (maybe it’s the kneeling?), some sort of grand shift in Carrie’s personhood.

Gail: This scene illustrates so much growth for Carrie. I love everything about it.

Sara: What’s great about this scene is it serves more than one purpose. Obviously we learn just how much Carrie regrets the way she treated Max all these years. There is also a sizable shift in Carrie and Yevgeny’s relationship, beyond the obvious meaning of Carrie being this emotional and vulnerable in front of another person. Yevgeny’s hesitation to comfort her in such an intimate way, before finally giving into it, suggests a similar openness and vulnerability.

Gail: Ugh, I agree.

Gail: Wellington has the higher ground, but it’s short lived.

Sara: *chef’s kiss*

Gail: Saul’s life’s work came crashing down along with those helicopters. The fallout from it is coming in waves like aftershocks that follow an earthquake. Saul’s choreography gets more and more dejected with each one.

Sara: I am finally buying into this storyline of Saul’s great professional downfall, Gail. Maybe it’s shots like this? Seeing all his work this season crumble in an instant.

Sara: IJLTP.

Gail: Does she have dry shampoo with her there? IJLTP(s).

Sara: I truly stan these shots and YES it’s because she looks mean and angry!!!

Sara: What I love about the beginning of the scene is the camera stays close in on Carrie. We can’t see that she’s trapped by the special ops team. This, along with the shaky cam filmmaking, leads to a sense of uneasiness and anxiety among the audience that matches her own. I’d also like to note that after a season-long motif of showing Carrie being trapped inside rooms, cars, etc. – she finally becomes literally encircled by this team of men holding automatic weapons. 

Gail: As the soldiers begin to fold in around her it felt like she was being ensnared in a spider's web. I agree, Carrie’s uneasiness is accentuated with the shaky cam and the uptick of the musical score woven throughout.

Gail: I find it so interesting that Yevgeny stayed to see what happened. Here he is shot center frame, giving the audience a clue as to his importance in this scene.

Sara: This expression of fear and concern (for Carrie’s well-being, obviously) is everything.

Gail: I love how Carrie couldn’t really bring herself to fully point the gun at Saul. It was very half-hearted and he knows it, given his open arms approach to her.

Sara: This season is giving us a lot to live for on the Carrie/Saul front. I’ve already spoken at length about how this confrontation feels monumental to me. Claire and Mandy were so stellar. The dialogue, the way Claire spat “in fucking handcuffs” at him. It’s all so perfect.

Gail: We’ve seen Carrie turn her back on Saul before, but never like this.

Sara: Iconic.

Sara: These twin shots of Carrie and Saul staring back at each other (again, from a great distance) are so evocative. We have an entire scene of shaky cam and then everything gets incredibly still here, the strings in the score build… We have to wonder whether this is the last time they’ll ever see each other (obviously it’s not but we still have to wonder).

Gail: There is no turning back now and they both know it. The reflection of Saul in the helicopter windows is stunning.

Sara: I love when this show surprises me. The way Claire plays Carrie’s reaction surprised me. It’s less hurt and betrayed and more “what the fuck did I just do?” It’s all over her face. 

Gail: Her reaction struck me as child-like. She knows she shouldn’t have just done that, but she did and now what?

Sara: I can’t properly explain how much I love the way this was edited. The close-up of Saul looking out the window, not unlike his expression last season when he left Carrie in Moscow, Yevgeny and Carrie speeding away to God knows where. Again, it feels like something so extremely final has just happened.

Gail: Me too. We are watching the distance between Carrie and Saul grow in real time. It’s powerful.

Sara: … A season’s worth of shots of Carrie looking out a closed car window, and now the windows are down, open-air. Is she finally free?

Gail: Great insight. They’ve been playing all season at Carrie feeling trapped by her circumstances. Now she is creating them.

[hpoelzig]

In Memoriam Krzysztof Penderecki (1933-2020)

One of the great 20th Century composers, and also a fine conductor, Penderecki was a defining force in the realm of music during my life. He first crafted revolutionary, expressionistic music that offered new ways for traditional orchestral instruments to be played. After much success in this style, he returned to a personal exploration of past European classical traditions, inspired by Bruckner, Mahler and Shostakovich to write large scale tonal symphonies which are splendid achievements in that form of expression.

His large body of work includes eight completed symphonies, four operas—one based on Huxley’s The Devils of Loudon and another on Milton’s Paradise Lost, many choral and vocal works, concerti, and chamber music. I first heard of him via his “Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima”—written in 1960 for 52 stringed instruments. It is a “must listen” piece for anyone who is interested in music. This video link includes the score so you can follow the unusual notations which the players were challenged to realize. It is a harrowing listen and indeed it created a style since employed by film composers who want to accompany scenes with music of extreme anguish. Many of his works are reactions and memorials to tragic world events. Directors have used pre-existing compositions by Penderecki in their films including Friedkin (THE EXORCIST), Kubrick (THE SHINING), Scorsese (SHUTTER ISLAND), and Lynch (INLAND EMPIRE), thus many film aficionados have come to hear his music. He was well recognized and won numerous awards, and was also known as an educator for promising young musicians. One of his other projects was a nearly 75 acre arboretum in which he had 1,700 species of trees planted over the course of about five decades. He saw this as a sort of ongoing “unfinished symphony.” 

Penderecki had made an immense mark with his cutting-edge works, but he began to move away from this earlier atonal style and cemented that with the composition of his Symphony No. 2, sometimes called his “Christmas Symphony,” since a fragment of the carol “Silent Night” is used in the work. I was fortunate enough to attend the rehearsals as well as the premiere performance with Zubin Mehta conducting the New York Philharmonic on May 1, 1980. During the rehearsals, which included a full run through, I sat near some members of the press and overheard their negative reactions to this piece. They seemed to feel it was a betrayal of Penderecki’s avant garde preeminence. I quite loved it—still do, and was subsequently fortunate enough to attend performances in Carnegie Hall and then-named Avery Fisher Hall of his symphonies No. 3 (1988-95, which cleverly employs rototoms), No. 4 “Adagio” (1989), and No. 5 “Korean” (1991-92, which includes bell gongs and has a quirky lengthy fugue theme). Penderecki conceived of his Symphony No. 6 as a sort of “song symphony” much as Mahler had done with his Das Lied von der Erde—even to using the same source of Bethge’s German translations of Chinese poetry as texts, but he put it aside to do his massive choral Symphony No. 7 “The Seven Gates of Jerusalem” (1996) and then his Symphony No. 8, “Songs of Transience” (2005), which featured choir, vocal soloists and even calls for 50 ocarinas to be played by the chorus members. The Symphony No. 6 was finally completed and debuted in 2017.

When asked about his projected Symphony No. 9 back in 2018, the composer mused:

“Good question. Of course, I am going to write it. I have sketches. But I am not in a hurry. I want this piece to be an important piece. The Ninth Symphony is supposed to be something special. Forty minutes (in duration), something like that. I’m writing one big movement. I’m not sure if it will be with choir or not. I have sketches. I cannot say anything more. Absolutely different sketches, which I can put together, or maybe start from the beginning.”

I hope that whatever sketches he might have produced will be saved and eventually released for study, and possible performance—if they reached that level of completion.

Back in 1984 I attended a series of concerts under the auspices of the New York Philharmonic titled “Horizons ’84.” During the evening concert on June 1, amongst the performers was Diamanda Galás, doing a multi-movement solo piece of her own. She strode onto the stage, wearing an impressive dark gown, and had three microphones on stands before her into which she projected her wide-ranged ululations. These were subjected to reverb and repetition, weaving a bizarre and elaborate sonic tapestry. For me, I felt it had become quite repetitive and my interest evaporated fairly swiftly, and I noted in the program that there were several lengthy movements to come. During her pause between movements, I arose and moved from my seat rightwards toward the aisle to make my exit. When I got to the aisle, to my surprise, I was face to face with Penderecki. He was accompanied by a striking blonde woman, both of them coming from the same row, but the opposite side of the aisle. They clearly had similarly run out of patience with Ms. Galás’ warblings. We looked each other in the eye, smiled, shrugged and shook our heads. I gestured with my arm that he and his companion should precede me up the aisle to exit at the rear of the hall. And so we did.

My admiration goes to this splendid composer who has gifted us with hours of fascinating and moving music. I’m sure he has touched many who enjoy the genres he assayed, and that he’ll long be remembered for his entire range of expressive works, from his youthful radicalism to his mature reflective explorations of the past. Bravo, Maestro Penderecki, for your uncompromising pursuit of your aesthetics and a life very well lived. 

—Magus Peter H. Gilmore

[denouae]

finifugal: verse viii.

cigarette ash like wildfire, burning holes in the nighttime. verse eight, as endorsed by the historical portraits, hung askew.

night’s teeth have never grown sharper, their incisors sinking into the flesh, consuming all the marrows. the polluted, corrupted mind has become nothing if not a deadweight, the attributes to its nostalgia recollected at the bottom of the sea. this is the ocean that stomaches all the glory and gore, anticipating the carnage which later would only elongate, murdering each thought, each heart. or is that truly the case, when his heart is caged in those teeth, never only perforated? instead, the contrivance of this contribution chews him up alive, night after night, the potency only growing stronger as it’s fed, faced with the abrasive tides. it never ends.

now, in the name of subdued fears he exists, but the poltergeists of those sunken fangs have never faded. this is how he names each fear, recalling them by the metaphorical scars left on his skin. some nights, the clatter of his own jaws creates the cacophony enough to recall that remembrance: the threnody has never dissipated. in the craters behind the collarbones, he hides the memories of that night. of eomma, sprawled on the floor. the interstice of the opening left him fractured, witnessing what he shouldn’t have. the trauma left an exit wound; the tragedy left a drowning fear.

but he tastes another fear on his bone tongue, tar dripping, molasses. even the columns of his throat are veneered in the black, still. over six centuries ago, crawling on his skin was the trepidation which name he could not pinpoint. it wasn’t like he hadn’t been running from the schemes against his lives as the appointed royal prince, but this was… another kind of fear; he had the hunch that this was not a matter of survival, for that concept was not an option. the taste of death was pungent, parched. he ran and ran it felt like he would splinter his ankles, yet the dominance of terror spared him no rest. when those canines embedded themselves into his neck where the veins protruded, the life that flashed before him was never beautiful. still, he feared death as much as he feared life. and this, in the forefront of his mind, invading, intrusive.

and this is how he swallowed fears alive, in spite of the immortality, in spite of the insanity: his sire discarded him, his imprint misplaced him. he swears he was kind, once upon a time, before his prolonged life had these fears imposed. the stake, the silver. the constant exposures went like this: he was to feast on his former kin, again and again and again, the bare minimum of heads increased every fortnight on the standards of his mentor. this was how a newborn would grow a crooked spine. he bore cruelties, his humanities ripped to shreds with each bite, each turn. to kill, to maim. he was, is a predator. he wishes he could forget the tallies, but they haunt him up to this day.

another manifested in the shape of siphoned feelings called love. except for the fact that he killed his darling, himself alongside it. it was to kill, or be killed — so survival he chose, as it was the only notion he knew how to carry on his globed shoulders. the fragments of emotions are still wraiths that waft on a nightly basis, five centuries that passed no longer pertinent. these incongruent marks of the past are not as incorporeal as he’d like them to be, and perhaps that is why he acts as the judge, jury, and executioner. perhaps it is the lament, perhaps it is the detriment. and, for that, he ignited an alter ego, the sobriquet of a vigilante against his own kind almost too paradoxical: zero, for the number he leaves alive to make amend. zero, for the way he kills those to make peace. it is not justified, maybe, eliminating his own kind when necessary, but even this atonement is not enough to sate his fears.

then again, fears nowadays are almost habitual, almost eventual — specifically those of love, of life. he lives with them cradled in his arms, nurturing the semblance of adamant nonchalance amidst his ribcage. and this, this is how he lives, each day: with the consternation that is incessant, but he is to ensure that he can alleviate this by committing justice, somehow, somewhere. so this, this is the tale of the disquietude, regardless of the mask that disguises it.

[sp4c3-0ddity]

Do you accept requests?? Sorry I don’t know how this works? Anyway if you are could you do, “I don’t care if a space ghost kills me, I will not be interrupted when I’m about to kiss you again.” For plance??

this is an oddly specific prompt ha. and yes, for future reference, i do accept requests!! though I may not write all of them, and not always right away. in this case, thank you for it!! this sort of functioned as a warm-up even though it’s now too late to get to writing anything else whoops

the moon where it’s set and the ‘space ghosts’ were greatly inspired by Threnody in “Shadows for Silence in the Forests of Hell” (which i’m not sure if it’s a short story or a novella but if i can drag more people into Cosmere hell through VLD fic i won’t complain)

anyway, NO spoilers for season six (though my original idea did have them lol). ~1000 words. enjoy!!

Norunning from the shades, theirguide had advised them, and a lot of good thatbit of knowledge did them.

Forall that the shades were immaterial, barely distinct black shapes blotting outthe stars, they could still touch them, could still brush their skin and killthe cells they came into contact. The guide herself favored her right leg, herother nearly dead thanks to a close encounter.

Butthey ran anyway, because when faced with ghosts intent on draining the lifefrom their bodies, Pidge’s oxygen-deprived brain couldn’t think ofa better solution.

Carry silver with you, her next piece of advice had been,indicating the sack of metallic powder hanging from her belt.

ButPidge had laughed, said they wouldn’t need such a weapon so difficult to aim,not when they had no intention of attracting these shadesin the first place.

(Shewas glad Lance listened though.)

Blood draws them too, the guide then said.

Pidgerolled her eyes, because they weren’t visiting this desolate moon with theintention to fight anyone…

…except they’d found no one to fight, the rebellion outpost desolate, themystery of why they’d been unable to contact solved. 

Shadesoverran the rebels posted her, multiplying their own numbers.

Eachshade bore its own shape, resembling that of the living being it once was. Andwhile she and Lance huddled inside their small ring of silver power, Pidgeexamined each one, trying to guess from where each one originated.

“That one was Olkari,” she said, pointingto one with a slight figure. “And I’d bet good money that one’s—”

“Pidge,” Lance cut her off, “please stop.”

Pidgesighed and glanced at him. “Right, I’m sorry.” She shifted a littlecloser to him, for without the activity to distract her, fear set back in,making it difficult to breathe.

Lancerested his head on hers. “Guess we’re stuck here until sunrise,” hesaid.

“Guess so.” Pidge scowled and recalled yet another warning they should’veheeded:

Don’tbe caught out after dark, Paladins. Even your Lions won’t be invulnerable here.

“Well,” Lance said with a weak laugh, “Icould be stuck with worse company.”

Pidgesmiled, the half-assed compliment warming her chest. God, she could be pathetic sometimes, at least where Lance wasconcerned.

Whichled her to quip, “On the other hand, I’m not too sure.”

Lanceelbowed her in the side.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, nudging him inretaliation.

Itdissolved into a tussle that ended with Lance on his back and Pidge straddlinghim, her hands on either side of his head propping her up. Her face was hot and herheart pounded, with both exertion and something else…

Lancestared up at her with his eyes wide. His hands rested on her waist, and whenPidge met his gaze something in it softened. “Pidge—”

Sheleaned down and kissed him.

Hegasped, a quick intake of breath that made her blood rush, but when their nosesbumped - when his lips only just started to move against hers - Pidgeremembered that maybe this wasn’twelcome.

Beforeshe could pull away, Lance threaded his fingers through her hair and pressedher face closer to his.

Pidge’shead spun with disbelief, unable but more than willing to believe what washappening - that impulse drove her to kiss him, that he even wanted to kiss herback.

Thatthis could happen on a moon only inhabited by them - and by the dead.

Lanceshoved her off as soon as that thought crossed her head. Her shoulder struckthe ground at an odd angle, and she winced at a spike of pain traveling up herarm, but before she could complain Lance was on his knees and closing a gap intheir protective ring of silver power while a shade tried to test its luck.

Animmaterial black tentacle reached towards Lance, the tip inches from his face.

AndLance didn’tsee it, too busy fixing the powder that they’d disturbed in the midst of their…kissing.

“Lance,” Pidge hissed as her heart jumpedinto her throat, “watch out!”

Heglanced up at the sound of her voice, eyes wide as he lurched away from theshade, a gasp escaping him.

Theshade hesitated, apparently startled, and Pidge took advantage of it to lurchforward and fix the ring of silver herself.

Itrecoiled, tentacle pulled back while it retreated back towards its fellows.

Pidgecaught her short breath, then sagged in relief. She glanced at Lance and said, “Let’s…bemore careful while we’re here.”

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, nodding. He collapsedonto his back, exhaling a single stuttering breath before he burst intolaughter.

Pidgesat beside him - careful to stay within the ring without disturbing it - andglared at him. “What’sso funny?”

“Imagine us surviving everything that’snearly killed us,” Lance said, wiping an invisible tear from the corner of hiseye, “only to be killed by something already dead.”

“I-it wouldn’t have killed you,” Pidge protested. “Only the cells—”

“That tentacle thing was right by myforehead when you warned me,” Lance pointed out with a wry smile. “My brain is rightthere.”

“Well—”

“And don’t you dare say something sarcasticlike youhave one of those?” Lance grumbled, crossing his arms. “Because I must have something in there for you to want to kiss me.”He frowned, a wrinkle appearing on his forehead as he wondered, “Why did you do that?”

Pidge’spalms sweat inside her gloves and her face warmed all over again underneath hisprobing gaze. “I—because I wanted to?” She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “BecauseI…really like you, I guess.”

Shecouldn’tlook at him, so she turned her eyes onto the threatening shades beyond thering.

“You guess?”Lance said, tone incredulous, but when Pidge found the courage to glance backat him, his face was red. “You guessyou like me? Well, then I guess Iwant to kiss you again.”

Pidgebit her lip, then decided that fighting a smile wasn’tworthwhile. “Then why don’t you?”

“Because”—Lance sat up and gestured aroundthem—”there are these things—”He cut himself off and rolled his eyes. “You know what, Pidge?”

Pidgegrinned, her heart pounding - and for now, she knew not a trace of fear. “What?”

“I don’t care if a space ghost kills me.”He scooted towards her and gently cupped her face with both hands. “I won’t beinterrupted when I’m about to kiss you again.”

[7r0773r]

Zone by Mathias Énard, translated by Charlotte Mandell

but a train isn’t circular, it goes from one point to another whereas I am in orbit I gravitate like a chunk of rock, I felt like a measly pebble when the man approached me on the platform, I know I attract madmen and deranged people these days they rush into my fragility they find a mirror for themselves or a companion in arms and that is truly crazy, priest of an unknown divinity he has an impish cap and a small bell in his left hand, he holds out his right hand and shouts in Italian “comrade one last handshake before the end of the world” I don’t dare shake it afraid he’s right (p. 6)

***

everything is harder once you reach man’s estate, living shut up inside yourself harried destitute full of memories I’m not taking this trip for nothing, I’m not curling up like a dog on this seat for nothing, I’m going to save something I’m going to save myself despite the world that persists in going forward laboriously at the speed of a handcar operated by a man with one arm, blindly (p. 133)

***

for years every night the same ritual climb the steps get out the long bronze-colored key insert it in the old keyhole open the door smell the odor of cold tobacco sometimes of trash or alcohol go over to the window open the shutters watch the cars pass by in the street for a few seconds put away the empty bottles lying around the clothes scattered about then pick up a book sit down in my armchair with, according to my humor and my resources, a glass of wine or a beer in hand—curious this passion for reading, a remnant from Venice, from Marianne great devourer of books, a way to forget to disappear wholly into paper, little by little I replaced adventure novels with simply novels, Conrad’s fault, Nostromo and Heart of Darkness, one title calls for another, and maybe without really understanding, who knows, I let myself be carried away, page after page, and although I’ve already spent a large part of my day as an ambiguous functionary reading—notes, reports, forms, on my well-guarded screen—there is nothing I desire more then than a novel, where the people are characters, a play of masks and desires, and little by little to forget myself, forget my body at rest in this chair, forget my apartment building, Paris, life itself as the paragraphs, dialogues, adventures, strange worlds flow by, that’s what I should be doing now (pp. 149-50)

***

we had decided not to reshape the world but to add a few absurdities to it, spots of incongruity so as to shade its cruel leaden color (p. 231)

***

this lot swarming with workmen used to be called the Campo de la Bota, Boot Camp, and the Falangists picked it out for an execution place, where people were shot, 2,000 innocent men, anarchists, union members, workers, intellectuals, massacred under the windows of today’s luxury apartments, summarily condemned by a distraught and overworked court martial, then handed over to a distraught and overworked firing squad, before their memory was once and for all buried by distraught and overworked immigrant workers: at the scene of the carnage with the 2,000 corpses the Barcelona town hall built its Forum of Cultures, Forum for Peace and Multiculturalism, on the very spot of the Francoist butchery they raised a monument to leisure and modernity, to the fiesta, a giant real estate operation supposed to bring  in millions in indirect revenue, tourism, concession stands, parking lots, and once again to bury the poor conquered ones of 1939 forever, the downtrodden, the ones who can only resist the excavators and backhoes with the endless list of their first and last names (pp. 234-35)

***

where were they, Andrija the Slavonic, Vlaho the Dalmatian, lost in death or in their mountains, sing, goddess, their memorable names, the names of the ones who left me, whom I left, for the first time I felt as if I were locked up in the Zone, in a hazy shifting blue interspace where a long threnody rose up chanted by an ancient choir, and everything was spinning around me because I was a ghost locked up in the realm of the Dead, condemned to wander without ever making an image on photographic film or being reflected in a mirror until I shattered my fate, but how, how could I extricate myself from this empty shell that was my body (p. 379)

***

the report by Rudolph Archibald Reiss in 1915, used for years as propaganda, came back to me, those nice men disemboweled, civilians enucleated, vaginas opened up by bayonet to let the semen of dozens of troops ooze in, noses cut off, ears torn off, all described with the coldness of the forensic police specialist: whether it was used by one side or the other didn't take away any of the veracity from the testimony, attested by the force of the revenge, the hatred of whoever espouses that revenge, hatred he will purge, dozens of years later, using it against his enemies, out of fear, fear stemming from tradition, from the legend that impels him too to go towards the other with his blade leading the way, the way the stories of Serbian atrocities drove us, in fear, to cut their corpses up into pieces, terrified no doubt that such warriors had the power to come back to life, the series of Serbo-Croatian massacres always proved the previous story right, without any one ever being wrong, since everyone, like the Austrians in Serbia, could cite an atrocity committed by the other camp, the Other per se, you had to erase his humanity by tearing off his face, prevent him from procreating by cutting off his balls, contaminate him by raping his women, annihilate his descendants by slicing off breasts and pubic hair, return to zero, annul fear and suffering, history is a tale of fierce animals, a book with wolves on every page, Chedo! [a nickname for “Chetnik,” Serb.—Trans.] is going to cut your throat my child, and he will surely do it, just as surely as you yourself, he thinks, have already burned his brawling offspring in the burning ditch, for us the collective stems from the story of individual suffering, the place of the dead, of corpses, it's not Croatia that's bleeding it's the Croats, our country is where its graves are, our murderers, the murderers on the other side of the mirror are biding their time, and they will come, they will come because they have already come, because we have already gone to cut their ears to a point, put our stakes in their wives' stomachs and tear out their eyes, a great wave of screaming blind men will cry for revenge, will come defend their graves and the bones of their dead, as surely as the tide, having gone out, comes back in to the rhythm of the moon's movements, I want to take my car and travel across the land of my enemies, I want to drink some pear brandy in Zemun watching the Sava swell the Danube, to see if the girls are pretty, to listen to turbo-folk sung by the buxom wife of Arkan the Tiger, to buy myself a T-shirt with the head of Milošević or Mladić on it and laugh a little, I want to laugh thinking that a few years ago this waiter might have killed me without batting an eye around Osijek and that it's over now, it's the Kosovars' turn, then the Albanians will take revenge in turn and eat Orthodox Christians for breakfast, we're all attached to each other by indissoluble ties of heroic blood, by the intrigues of our jealous gods, all that is over, after a few years of purgatory in an office in the midst of files I'm in the last train before the end of the world (pp. 398-400)

[slinket]

The Aftermath

Chapter 2 nsfw, but nothing major yet.

A03 Link

Previous Chapter

The start of the school year was typical.  Finding out which classes were shared with friends, learning about all the difficult exams they would be taking, and coming to the realization that your entire future seemed to be based on those results. 

“Ughh,” Threnody called out, “History of Magic today - how many more goblin rebellions can we learn about?  JUST STOP REBELLING ALREADY.”  Ominis chortled, giving her a look that made her laugh.  “Ok, I know I just stopped one.  I’m just saying, you would think the goblins would have realized by now that they don’t seem to be on the winning team… also, I guess wizards could also stop treating them so poorly, that might help.”

“But who would wizard kind look down upon?  If we determine that goblins are equal, who would be next?  Centaurs?  Muggles? House elves?  Trolls?” Ominis snapped his tongue, “No, we purebloods must always be superior.”  

Sebastian groaned at the joke, “I can practically hear your eyes rolling, Ominis.”

“You bring up a good point about social structures.,” Natty began, “Ominis, who would land higher on the scale, a half blood wizard, or a pureblood centaur?”

“How would that even work Natty?” Threnody pondered aloud.  “What would be considered a pureblood centaur?  Two centaurs mating?  Or a horse and human mating?  Surely a full blooded human mating with a pure horse would lead to the purest of blood for a centaur - or, I…well, is that how that worked?  Maybe they are all pureblood?” 

Amit decided to jump into the conversation as he felt his head ready to explode.  “Enough!  Can we not talk about the mating habits of centaurs, especially when eating sausage?  I don’t need to think about a horse penis right now.  Where is this stuff even coming from Threnody?”

“She only said the word ‘mating’ Amit, if you are thinking about horse dick now, that’s on you.”  Sebastian laughed as Amit smacked him on the arm.

Threnody’s confused centaur thoughts continued. “Has anyone seen a baby centaur?  Poppy?  Are the human half like human babies?  Unable to support their heads?  Do the horse legs just strut around while the human half flops around?”  

Poppy just blinked a few times, not sure how to respond.  “I think it's time to head to class…” she mumbled. 

As they all began getting up, Threnody stepped up onto the bench.  She jumped onto Sebastian's back, wrapping her legs around his waist.  He locked his arms under her legs to keep her up.  “Onward horse half!” Threnody cheered.

“Why would you be talking to your horse body as though it has its own mind?” Amit questioned.  “Your centaur lore seems to be lacking.”

“I’m with Amit.”  Sebastian hoisted Threnody up, “I reject being the horse half of the centaur.  I will however pretend to be a full horse, as long as you continue to ride me.”  Everyone groaned.

Threnody had DADA first along with Sebastian, Ominis, and Natty.  Afterwards, Threnody and Ominis headed off to History of Magic, debating as to whose turn it was to sleep and who would be taking notes.  They both sat at a table in the back, knowing that they could get away with talking quietly or sleeping there.  

Class began and Professor Binns’s lecture quickly became monotonous.  Time seemed to pass slowly, and Threnody was ready to fall asleep.  As her eyes were fluttering closed, she was awakened out of her stupor when she felt Ominis place his hand on her knee.  He remained face forward, acting as though this touch was perfectly normal between the two of them.  His hand was trembling, and his eyes, while unseeing, were open wider than before - those being the only two indications that Ominis was nervous about where his hand was sitting.  Threnody shifted herself closer to him, wanting to indicate without words that she was comfortable with his touch.  They had not yet spoken about the week they spent together over the summer, the first long stretch of time they were able to spend together without Sebastian.  

Ominis

Ominis sat at the desk, internally panicking while he left his hand on Threnody’s knee.  ‘What the hell am I doing? Gods, why did I think this was a good idea? I just wanted to touch her again.   Ugh.  This was stupid.  What’s to say that she and Sebastian have not been intimate with each other?  I shouldn’t have just assumed it meant something to her too.’’  Ominis’ mind was racing now, angering himself thinking about Sebastian’s hands all over Threnody.  ‘Has Sebastian touched her elsewhere?  Seb had hinted at it before.  Merlin - the stupid horse joke, he may not have been joking.  What if she liked it?  What if she is riding him on a regular basis?  No, no, they couldn’t have.  I know Sebastian, he would have told me, bragged about it even.’  His mind went back and forth wondering if Threnody had shared anything with Sebastian. Shared anything like they had.  Trying to convince himself that Sebastian would not have been able to keep it a secret, but then acknowledging that Sebastian was very good at hiding things he didn’t want found out.  

He then noticed that he had been squeezing Threnody’s knee as his thoughts ran wild.  Ominis relaxed his hand, ready to pull away from her, hoping his embarrassment would soon pass. Rather than moving back onto his desk, he felt his hand sliding up Threnody’s leg, as though it had a mind of its own.  ‘Stop, stop, Ominis, control yourself.  Get your hand off of her!”  He did not take his hand off of her.  He had paused only for a second when his fingers met the hem of her skirt. His breath was coming faster now, exhaling with force. He had been close to her in an intimate way before, but there had been alcohol involved and emotions abound.  With a mad rush of courage, Ominis continued sliding his hand up under and beyond the bottom of her skirt.  His mind went blank as all the blood in his brain seemed to rush down below to his pants.  Every second he was allowed to continue touching Threnody, he felt himself harden more.  When he felt his fingers brush up against the fabric between her legs, he leaned forward and covered his mouth with his other hand to stifle a moan.  Threnody made a noise that Ominis could only describe as a sweet little cry.  Suddenly, she put her hand on top of his and pushed it back to her knee.  Ominis gasped for air, wondering when the last time he took a breath had been.  ‘She stopped me, she hated it, she hates me, Merlin how can I be so stupid.’  

Threnody did not remove Ominis’ hand from her knee.  She scooted closer to him and brought her lips to his ear.  “Now is not the time, Ominis,” Threnody whispered, her voice unsteady.

Ominis swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth.  He moved his free hand to squeeze his cock.  His muffled moan sounded like a plea.  As soon as he heard other students packing up their things, Ominis stood up, half yelled at Threnody “I have to go to the bathroom, uhh emergency,” and ran off.  He felt guilty for running and ashamed at needing to touch himself in the middle of the day, in one of the more public bathrooms but he could not wait another second.  Practically throwing his pants onto the ground, he sat on the toilet and grabbed himself, thinking about how soft Threnody’s skin felt, how touching her felt so exciting, how he wanted to learn every curve of her body.  The words ‘not now,’ in her voice, repeated in his mind, indicating to him that she may allow him to touch her later.  He spit into his hand to add to the dripping arousal that already covered the tip.  With all the stimulation from touching her, a few quick pulls was all it took for Ominis to feel his body tense and shoot a warm rope of cum into his hand.  He let out a much needed sigh, laying his head against the side of the stall.  He wasn’t surprised that he finished so quickly, he had still been worked up from his playing last night that he never completed.  Ominis cleaned up and hoped no one heard him as he left the bathroom to continue his day.

Threnody -

Threnody was not going to be bringing up any of the events that happened during History of Magic.  She didn’t know what to say to Ominis.  The relationship between the three of them had just been repaired about 8 months ago, and thinking about things changing again was frightening.  She didn’t know how the dynamics would work if she started dating.  She wouldn’t even consider dating a different person, as both boys and their honestly, needy personalities took up most of her time.  The possibility of coming between them, or knowing she would likely be hurting Sebastian was unthinkable.  Threnody knew that her feelings for Ominis went beyond friendship, and it was clear that their summer break visit had not been a one time thing.   He wouldn’t touch her so intimately if he wasn’t serious about his feelings.

Threnody knew she should shut down all of the naughty thoughts she had about Ominis, at least for the time being.  She had to really sort through her feelings before moving forward in any way.  She did her best to avoid him over the next week, failing miserably, but luckily Ominis did not bring up what had happened during class.  It would have to be addressed at some point, she was just hoping ‘some point’ was forever away.  Mostly, she was struggling with how to act around Sebastian and Ominis.  She had always been ‘hands on,’ and now felt that she had to stop with that because she 1, wouldn’t want to stop touching Ominis, and 2, would feel guilty touching Sebastian.

Her pattern of avoidance ended quicker than she had planned, because both Slytherin boys had begun to bother her about finishing the story they were reading together.  The three of them met up in the common room after dinner, sitting into their usual spot.  Reading together was a regular occurrence, Sebastian and Ominis both enjoyed getting to listen to the latest fiction novel, and Threnody had a talent for reading and storytelling.  She sat down first on the couch, Sebastian taking the spot next to her and laying his head in her lap.  Ominis sat down in the chair next to them.  They were close to finishing Treasure Island, by Robert Louis Stevenson.  Previously, Threnody had read to them The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, another book of Stevensons.  The three of them enjoyed his work enough to read another one of his works.  Treasure Island was a book full of excitement and adventure, so they were all enjoying the story.

As she read, Sebastian reached up and grabbed her free hand, pulling it to his head.  He held it for a moment, squeezing her hand, indicating that he wanted her to scratch his head.  Threnody inwardly sighed, knowing this was exactly the type of touch that now she viewed as maybe too intimate for friends.  However, she didn’t have a good enough reason to explain why she suddenly wouldn’t touch him in such a way.

Threnody glanced up when she heard the sound of a chair moving, and saw Imelda pulling a chair up to sit nearby.  Imelda was one of Threnody’s dormmates, and was very aware of the close relationship the trio had.  Imelda also loved teasing her about it, to the point of being obnoxious, and embarrassing Threnody.  Now that Imelda was staring, Threnody became much more conscious of her hand in Sebastians hair, and the fact that Ominis had pulled his chair over close enough to lay his head on her shoulder.  

“Are you dating one of them?  Or both of them?  Have you slept with either of them?”  Imelda had no qualms with interrupting the story and making a scene.

Threnody looked up surprised, only for a moment, before dropping her head back into the book, ignoring Imelda.

She continued reading:

“Oxen and wain-ropes would no bring me back again to that accursed island; and the worst dreams that ever I have are when I hear the surf booming about its coasts or start upright in bed with the sharp voice of Captain Flint still ringing in my ears: ‘Pieces of eight!’  

Threnody pulled her hand from Sebastians head as she closed the book, having finished the story.  Ignoring Imelda did not work - she asked about the dating status of the three again.

“No Imelda, none of us are dating.  We are friends - close friends.  I understand why people may think it is more, but honestly, you’ve seen me hugging Poppy often, and have never asked if she and I are dating - I don’t see my behavior with Sebastian and Ominis to be any different.”  

“When you hug Poppy, she doesn’t end up with a massive erection like your boy Sebastian has right now.”  Imelda smirked, laughing softly.  

They all looked down at Sebastians pants, because of course they would after what Imelda had said.  Ominis, instead of looking, brought his head up quickly.  “He does not, does he?”  His voice sounded slightly panic’d to Threnody’s ears.  

Threnody knew she had to end this now before Ominis lost his temper.  His eyebrows were furrowed and his face clearly showing anger. While nothing between them had been official or announced, Threnody knew how protective Ominis was, and he wasn't going to tolerate this type of teasing for long. She dropped the book and reached out to grab Ominis’ hand.  “No Ominis, he doesn’t.  Imelda is just being her usual self and trying to start shit.”  

“Yeah, I’m only teasing Ominis, but you should have seen how quickly Threnody looked at Sebastian’s crotch to check.”  Imelda cackled as Threnody stared daggers at her.

“Trust me, if I was hard right now, none of you lady’s could miss it.”  Sebastian arched his eyebrows as she grabbed himself.

“Enough of this!”  Ominis called out.  He was squeezing Threnody’s hand now, pulling it closer to his body.  “All of her touching is platonic Imelda, so just drop it.”

“Ohh, Ominis is sounding quite jealous….”

“I am not jealous.  It’s just not very considerate of you to be so rude.”  Ominis paused and took a breath.  “Threnody is very aware of my and Sebastian’s past.  Both of us want to be close to her because we both feel safe.  It was difficult for me to let someone touch me, but I…I only ever knew a kind touch from my Aunt, so this connection is important for me, so don’t be an ass about it.”

“Besides Imelda, she keeps it even.  If he gets a squeeze, so do I.  That way we have nothing to be jealous about.”  Sebastian pulled himself up to stand, “Anyway, great story Threnody, but I’m going to head up now. Anne happened to respond to one of my owls finally, so I am going to write out another before bed.  Imelda - maybe if you’re really nice, you can ask Threnody to touch you too.”  He threw a pillow at Imelda as he started to walk away.

“She wrote back to you Sebastian?  Why didn’t you tell us?  That’s amazing!  What did she say?”  Threnody said while she looked towards Sebastian in surprise.

“I’ll tell you later, I just want to enjoy it in private for a little while longer, ok?”  Sebastian continued walking away, Imelda following to whack him with a pillow.  

Ominis moved onto the couch, putting himself close to Threnody.  After finishing a book, they would stay up and discuss it, analyzing and sharing their interpretations.  Time seemed to always fly by when they sat and talked in such a way.  It was one of the reasons they had gotten so much closer.  They would spend hours on end chatting, starting with just the story, but the conversation would often flow into personal life.  This night started out no differently.

Sebastian - 

After finishing his letter, Sebastian tried to fall asleep.  He would turn one way, close his eyes, and then turn back over to look at Ominis’ empty bed.  “How much longer are they going to take?  It was a fun story but they don’t need to talk about it for this long.”  Sebastian did get jealous of the time Ominis and Threnody spent together without him.  He had to regularly remind himself that he also got to spend time alone with her to calm his mind.  “Maybe they fell asleep.”  That was his rationale for getting out of bed and sneaking down into the common room.  As Sebastian made his way down the stairs, he could hear bits of the conversation between Ominis and Threnody.  When he heard a moan in Threnody’s voice, he stuck his head out to look at them. They were alone in the room, and Sebastian chuckled at himself for his sudden worry when he saw that Threnody was just stretching.  He watched as she sat up, and grabbed onto Ominis to pull him up as well.  However, Ominis pulled her back down onto the couch and onto him.  Ominis was sat up against the corner of the couch, and now he had Threnody straddled across his lap, his face buried in her neck.

Sebastian’s smile quickly faded as he continued spying. 

“I guess it’s time we talked about….well, this summer, and class.”  Threnody was looking down at Ominis, pulling his face from her neck so she could study his face.

“You keep everything even between Sebastian and I?”  

“I do my best, Ominis.  I can’t be perfect about it, but I think I do a pretty good job.”

“So, when you say everything… you mean everything, including what happened during summer break?”

Sebastian heard Threnody take a slightly shuddered breath of air. 

“I…no, not everything is even.  You haven’t told him about that week, have you?  I don’t want to upset him. Obviously I don’t consider that night as something that I have to “make up” with him.”

“I haven’t told him anything.  I don’t think I’ll ever share, I want that week to belong only to us.”  Sebastian watched as Ominis leaned up and pressed his lips against Threnody’s throat.  “Gods Renny, I’ve missed you so much.  I’m desperate everyday to be close to you once more.”

Sebastian cast a disillusionment spell on himself and sat down on the stairs, ready to listen to the secrets his best friends were keeping from him.

[rhenal]

To the Void with the Void

Few things in Dragon Age lore bother me quite as much as the Void. It appears just about everywhere, in every faith, but what any one teaching says about what it actually IS never seems to be consistent - even in the same set of teachings.

Come with me on this journey, as I go through the Dragon Age Wiki page on the Void and follow every single cite note to the source - and look through those cited sources as well.

It starts with a brief summary, then goes into Chantry beliefs, because of course that comes first. It lists some verses from the chant. 

All that the Maker has wrought is in His hand Beloved and precious to Him. Where the Maker has turned His face away, Is a Void in all things; In the world, in the Fade, In the hearts and minds of men.

Passing out of the world, in that Void shall they wander; O unrepentant, faithless, treacherous, They who are judged and found wanting Shall know forever the loss of the Maker's love. Only Our Lady shall weep for them.

—Canticle of Threnodies, 12:5

So... the void is both a vague emptiness in everything the Maker doesn’t like and the Andrastian version of Hell? Right. How conveniently vague. It never says ‘the Void’ though, just ‘a Void’. 

Next follows some extrapolations. Since I know that fanon and canon tend to intermingle a lot in small, subtle and insidious ways, I shall stick as close to the source material - and only the source material - as the wiki and the rest of my resources will allow for, while mostly ignoring the wiki-specific text. So. Let’s follow the cite notes, in order. 

The first one refers to a conversation with Sebastian in DA II. I don’t have that DLC, because I think that guy is kind of an arse and not worth my money, and after over an hour of searching both the wiki and youtube, I have not found this conversation, so I’m gonna drop that trail for now. 

Second cite note also refers to a Sebastian conversation, but this is one I can actually find. It’s a banter conversation between him and Isabela. 

Isabela: So, I've never understood why the Chantry says if you're good, you'll be taken up to the Maker's side. Sebastian: Those who die with the sins cleansed from their souls will walk beside the Maker in eternity. Isabela: That doesn't sound fun! Isabela: If they really want people to be good, shouldn't they offer an afterlife with... lakes of wine and a dozen naked virgins? Sebastian: Anyone who wants that will be going to the Void. Isabela: Sounds like that's where all the good parties will be.

So, Andrasian hell. K. Still doesn’t tell me anything useful.

Next few cite notes are grouped up. These unfortunately refer to books that I do not have access to at the moment - World of Thedas vol. 1 and the Dragon Age Origins official game guide - so I’ll simply settle for sharing the statement on the wiki.

The sinners are lost, endlessly wandering the Fade or even returning to the "ether" (the primeval matter of the Fade) from which they were made.

So, conflating the Void and the Fade now, are we? The next sentence references the Canticle of Threnodies, saying that it says that the Void is a place within the Fade. Time to check out what’s available of that Canticle myself...

Huh. Oh, that’s a lot. Yet after reading it all, the only mention of the Void I could find is in 12:5 above. “Where the Maker has turned His face away, Is a Void in all things; In the world, in the Fade, In the hearts and minds of men.” I think that can be interpreted in a lot of ways. It doesn’t quite say “The Void is a place in the fade” to me. It just says that there is an emptiness - a Void - in everything that the Maker found fault in. And he certainly found fault in the Fade, according to earlier verses in that very same Canticle. I don’t know, but this instance seems more figurative to me. Maybe I’m wrong. 

Moving on. Up next is another Chantry verse. 

Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls. From these emerald waters doth life begin anew. Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you. In my arms lies Eternity.

—Canticle of Andraste, 14:11

I can’t help but notice how ‘abyss’ isn’t capitalised in this verse. I checked in game - it’s not capitalised there either. 

This verse bothers me. When reading further into the codex entry of “Here Lies the Abyss”, there is some musings by Revered Mother Juliette accompanying the verse. They read as follows:

Chantry sisters have long debated this section of the Chant of Light. It is tempting to assume that the "well of all souls" is a literal well, but such imagery appears nowhere in Andraste's other works. An examination from Threnodies 1:4 yields clues:

From the waters of the Fade you made the world. As the Fade had been fluid, so was the world fixed.

It is possible—even likely—that the "emerald waters" Andraste refers to are the substance of the Fade, which began as an "ocean of dreams" (Threnodies 1:1) and was reduced to a well—bottomless but limited in scope—by the Maker's creation of our world.

Is Andraste urging the listener to come to the Fade? Should we take "From these emerald waters doth life begin anew," as literal evidence of reincarnation—or even of life after death, as the Cult of Spirits suggests—or as a figurative benediction indicating that the Maker is the source of all life, and in finding His embrace for Eternity, we will only be returning our souls from whence they came?

Vague, is it not? Juliette seems as confused as I am. 

Now, I remember when The Descent came out. When seeing The Wellspring at the end of that story, a lot of think-pieces popped up in the Meta community about how it looked an awful lot like what Andraste might have been describing in that Canticle of hers. Note how, in the Wiki page for the above-mentioned codex entry, there is a trivia section with a quoted passage from The Calling? 

"It’s where Andraste goes to speak to the Maker for the first time. It’s where she convinces him to forgive mankind. It was supposed to be this beautiful temple deep under the earth surrounded by emerald waters."

Interesting, no?

If anything, it seems safe to say that The Chant doesn’t seem very interesting in defining just what either the Void or this abyss is in the first place, and anything further simply seem to be interpretations by various Chantry people, which is hardly a reliable source of anything.

Continuing down the Wiki page on the Void, we have the Elven beliefs section. Something something The Forgotten Ones dwell there - the cite note leads us to Codex Entry: Elven God Andruil. Well. Not beliefs of modern elves, then, since this entry is found in the temple of Mythal, but that’s splitting hairs. 

One day Andruil grew tired of hunting mortal men and beasts. She began stalking The Forgotten Ones, wicked things that thrive in the abyss. Yet even a god should not linger there, and each time she entered the Void, Andruil suffered longer and longer periods of madness after returning.

Andruil put on armor made of the Void, and all forgot her true face. She made weapons of darkness, and plague ate her lands. She howled things meant to be forgotten, and the other gods became fearful Andruil would hunt them in turn. So Mythal spread rumors of a monstrous creature and took the form of a great serpent, waiting for Andruil at the base of a mountain.

When Andruil came, Mythal sprang on the hunter. They fought for three day and nights, Andruil slashing deep gouges in the serpent's hide. But Mythal's magic sapped Andruil's strength, and stole her knowledge of how to find the Void. After this, the great hunter could never make her way back to the abyss, and peace returned.

—Translated from ancient elven found in the Arbor Wilds, source unverified

Here is a much more clear distinction of the Void as an actual, tangible thing. Abyss is still not being capitalised, though. Abyss speaks to me of something deep down below. And the ancient Elves were actively encouraged to seek the deepest parts of the Fade, as seen in Codex Entry: Vir Dirthara: The Deepest Fade.

The pages of this book—memory?—are instructions on how to reach the deepest parts of the Fade, realms so far removed they're unmarked by Dreamers:

"Epiphany requires a mind smooth as mirror glass, still as stone. Put aside ten years for practice, and the next hundred for searching. What others have learned will ease your journey. Those who never manifested outside the Fade will find it easier to find its stillest roots, but it is rare the compulsion overtakes our brethren of the air."

Andruil roaming the Void was considered a bad thing by the Elves, yet seeking the deepest parts of the Fade was encouraged. That says to me that they are not the same. That says to me that the Void is not found in the Fade. 

The Andruil codex entry also says that “all forgot her true face” and that because of her actions, “plague ate her lands”. The idea that it was Andruil who caused the Blight has been around for a long time. This codex entry is the source of that theory. So far, I am inclined to agree that it certainly sounds like that may be the case. So. Quite possibly, according to this tale, if this plague is indeed the blight, it can be concluded that the Blight came from the Void.

However, that is a whole lot of conditions. A lot of ‘if’s.

Next up, there’s talk about the legends of Fen’Harel and The Great Betrayal - which we know for certain fact by now is a lot more complicated than the legends make it out to be. However, I don’t remember there being any mention of the Void or an abyss - or even the Forgotten Ones - being mentioned in our conversation with Solas in Trespasser. Sometimes I wonder if the Forgotten Ones are just a trail that Bioware wants to drop, but then I remember that their most explicit appearance in all the games so far is as recently as Jaws of Hakkon. Well. Back on track. 

The cite notes here only lead me to Arlathan: Part two and the Dread Wolf codex entry - both tellings of the Dalish legend, which tells me nothing new. The Forgotten Ones were allegedly trapped in the abyss. Might be good to point out that these legends also appear to imply that the Forgotten Ones came from the abyss, or at least that it was their home. “[...]if only the Forgotten Ones would return to the abyss for a time.“

Hmm. The Void wiki entry next says that The World of Thedas includes accounts of the Evanuris being trapped in the Eternal City. I thought that was just a theory. I really need to get that book. Clear some things up.

On to the next cite note, which leads me to the codex entry Elgar’nan: God of Vengeance. Another Dalish account, but this one brings up something interesting that I’ve not paid attention to before.

The sun, looking down upon the fruitful land, saw the joy that Elgar'nan took in her works and grew jealous. Out of spite, he shone his face full upon all the creatures the earth had created, and burned them all to ashes. The land cracked and split from bitterness and pain, and cried salt tears for the loss of all she had wrought. The pool of tears cried for the land became the ocean, and the cracks in her body the first rivers and streams.

Elgar'nan was furious at what his father had done and vowed vengeance. He lifted himself into the sky and wrestled the sun, determined to defeat him. They fought for an eternity, and eventually the sun grew weak, while Elgar'nan's rage was unabated. Eventually Elgar'nan threw the sun down from the sky and buried him in a deep abyss created by the land's sorrow.

A deep crack in the earth - a crack referrenced to as an abyss no less - created by the Sun’s rage. 

Perhaps, this instead is a reference to the war in which the Evanuris were generals. The war that enabled their ascent to presumed godhood. And this chasm was opened by the battles waged in this war. 

My mind wanders to The Abyssal Reach in the Western Approach. You know the one - the ginormous black chasm? The one that you fall into during Here Lies the Abyss?

The Wiki entry on the Western Approach says that “This area was the site of a major battle during the Second Blight. The darkspawn swarmed out of the great chasm to the south named the Abyssal Rift and corrupted the land beyond recovery.” Note that it doesn’t say is that the chasm was created during the Second Blight. It would appear that it was already there. 

I’m thinking that this chasm is the same as the one referenced in Elgar’nan’s legend. 

Although - nothing about this says that this chasm and the Void is the same thing. But I suspect that they may be connected. 

Continuing down the Void wiki page, all that’s left is the cult of the Empty Ones - who worshiped the blight - as well as a fairly lengthy trivia section. Nothing I find here is new. The Empty ones say the Darkspawn came from the Void and that the Void is a place of nothingness. General mentions of a hungry, yawning void - which doesn’t really say anything because that’s a pretty general turn of phrase. The Staff of the Void’s description talks about a void as an absence of something, which once again sounds more like a turn of phrase than anything substantial.  

There is always the Anvil of the Void - the thing that the Dwarves used to forge Golems. Since it essentially functioned by transferring the soul of a dwarf into that of the Golem, it could imply that the Void is somehow related to souls - or at least Dwarven souls - which would support the verse from the Canticle of Andraste mentioned before. But then, we also know that Elven souls come from the Fade - or at least that is what is implied, considering their close kinship with Spirits before the Veil. 

And there is still the whole thing about where we have absolutely no idea where the Humans even came from in the first place...

So far, I’ve seen a lot of fairly interesting thinking points - but absolutely nothing that would really lead to any real consensus to what the Void even is - IF it even is. I can’t help but feel that despite the frequent use of the terms Void and abyss in both Elven and Chantry lore, none of these references are similar enough - or substantive enough - for me to be able to be able to safely conclude that the Void even is a special place or thing at all. It sounds to me like metaphorical speech far more often than it does anything else. A metaphor for deep underground or something. The Deep Roads. I don’t know. 

But then I remember The Descent again. The Wellspring. The ‘lake’ that seemed almost like a sky. The Dwarf legend of the king who dug so deep down that he and his entire thaig “fell into the sky”. It makes me wonder...

In the end, all I feel I can really conclude for myself is that whatever it is, the Abyss is mostly deep below, and the Fade is mostly up above. I don’t think they are the same. Also that the Blight probably comes from the Void in one way or another. 

But honestly, any more than that, the lore just doesn’t seem to converge into anything substantial anywhere. There is simply far too little to go on to make any solid conclusions, and what little lore there is appear to go into different places more often than not. We can assume, we can theorise, we can extrapolate - but what real lore there actually is tells us surprisingly little.

If anyone has any thoughts about this that are more coherent than mine, I’d love to hear them, because it feels like I’m thinking in circles.

[400legends]

Wall to Wall Walls

There comes a point in a dungeon (and I’m sure that Gorprax mentioned this in one of his memoirs) when you hit a wall. Might be a figurative wall or, more likely a literal wall. Before the battle, we had reached both. 

Quite literally there were walls everywhere, and indeed, I could feel the walls in my head closing in. My fellow adventurers must have felt the same way. Even Globnar, normally so cheery, snapped at Threnody over some alcove they were both searching. 

Grandfather Arthur was, at one point, on his hands and knees looking at the floor joinery. Threnody joined him to examine a particularly uneven spot. 

It was about then that I heard Ferris sigh heavily. “I’m going to the Throne Room. We’ve seen everything else.” 

“How can you say that?” Threnody sat back on her heels. “There’s that whole walk-in closet near the study.”

Arthur’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I am certain I didn’t look at that floor in there.” He stood and dusted his hands. 

“That is not what I meant.” 

I leaned against the wall. “You guys, I think–” I heard a click near my head and turned around to see a hidden space in the wall at eye level. “Oh.” Maybe I should have thought to look for traps, but I reached my hand in and pulled out a flat wooden box, blew off the dust and opened it. Inside were four scrolls, some gold, and a cat’s eye gem. 

That simply fanned the flames of looting, and we spent the next hour examining every wall. 

Finally, dirty-handed, thirsty, hungry, and not a little disappointed, we all sat for a quick meal. 

When we’d refreshed ourselves we made for the Throne Room. Ferris summoned her wolf friends and sent them into the room. Threnody stepped toward the throne dais and a voice said, “Approach no further or you will be slain.” 

We all looked at each other.

And then Globnar said, “That’s just Chad. Don’t pay any attention.” 

“Don’t you think that invisible voices making threats should be heeded?” Arthur hung back near the door. 

“They don’t have to be invisible,” Ferris said as she cast faerie fire.But the purple light revealed nothing. 

Globnar stamped her foot. “You guys are so smelly that you smell!” Silence. “Too scared to show yourselves even after I taunt you? Lame.”

I stepped further into the room. “Come Grandfather,” I said to Arthur. “You are safer staying close.” With that I turned and put the Mevalenix blessing on Globnar. “May you fight evil with the flames of my great, great grandmother in your heart.” 

As I turned back to Arthur, I saw him flinch and cry out. An invisible hand had attacked him, and now he would rage with the bear inside him.

“What did you do?” Threnody called to me. “You had one job! Keep Arthur safe.”

I opened my mouth to protest. She’d never said that to me! But before I could speak, Arthur wheeled around and stabbed a dark dwarf with his dagger. 

“Ha! Look! He’s fine,” I called back to Threnody. 

Ferris shifted into wolf form and joined her friends near the altar. Two dark dwarves revealed themselves as they attacked the wolves. 

From a distance someone shot a crossbow at Threnody. Globnar moved toward her as the rogue pivoted away toward one of the pillars. Another dwarf became visible as he tried to attack Arthur. “Hey!” I yelled and ran toward him just as Threnody stepped out and stabbed the dwarf in the back. 

“Well done!” I said and grabbed Arthur’s arm. “Come with me - Ow!” Arthur stabbed me quite hard with his dagger. His eyes glowed with a reddish brown intensity that made me step back. 

“Something’s wrong with Ferris,” yelled Globnar as she swung at a dwarf who had somehow grown to twice her size. I looked over and saw Ferris frozen in mid-leap. A dark dwarf was just starting to take a swing at her exposed flank. 

“Arrrgh!” I yelled and ran at the enemy. My sword finished work that Ferris and her wolves had already begun and the dwarf fell at my feet. I raised my sword in triumph. “We’re winning!” I called out to try to hearten my friends. 

“Not if Arthur keeps trying to kill me!” yelled Threnody. 

“Right! Right. I think I can–” and about then my longsword shattered into a dozen pieces as a crescendo of noise blasted through the throne room. I looked down at the hilt in my hand, and then up to see who had done this. I spied him across the room. I’d seen him the first time we were in this room, him and his pet rat. 

Just then another dwarf joined the fight, and I knew that we needed our wizard more than I needed revenge. I ran to Arthur, grabbed his shoulders, and spoke the words of restoration. 

The murderous brown light left his eyes, and I saw my friend return. I grabbed his hand and said, We have enemies to vanquish.”

[ladydracarysao3]

In Love, Serenity  

Chapter Fifteen:  All that the Maker has Wrought is in His Hand

Chapter Summary Ser Barris confides in a friend about a certain woman infiltrating his thoughts. Then, he stumbles into an interesting scene at the tavern.

Note Title from Threnodies 12:5 If you'd like some background music for this chapter, may I suggest this song: Click here for Spotify -or- Click here for Youtube

[Read Chapter 15 on AO3]  or [Start from the Beginning]

-Ser Barris-

“You are far better at chess than you are at wicked grace, Cullen.” Delrin says with a smile as he contemplates his next move. It seems that the man has him in a few turns no matter what Delrin does. However, it won’t have been an easy victory. They have been battling in this single game for nearly the entirety of the evening.

Cullen chuckles through his breath, “Yes well, I am far better practiced in this realm than the realm of wicked grace. The dwarf always manages to wipe me out…” his thought trails off in pensive frustration.

“He cheats,” Delrin says plainly. He smiles into the fist that props up his head as he considers the options before him.

Shocked, Cullen’s mouth drops open, “What? He cheats?”

Low and quiet laughter rumbles in Delrin’s chest and he raises his eyes from the game to Cullen’s, “Yes. And terribly, I might add.”

Cullen’s mouth shuts, clenching tightly as he scowls. “That scheming little… he has taken more of my coin than I care to say.”

“Perhaps I will teach you his tactics, or at least what to watch for so he does not succeed again.” Delrin grins at his opponent. He decides to surrender in their current match as he makes one final move. Opening the game now for Cullen to have his victory. “Might as well get this over with,” he sighs and leans back in his chair.

Cullen’s face brightens again, “Ah yes, I believe this game is mine. Well played, Delrin.”

“Good game,” he smiles as he looks around the gardens of Skyhold and Cullen resets the board for a future match. There are Chantry sisters scattered around the grounds reciting the Chant of Light. The daylight dims, displaying beautiful purples, blues, and oranges while the night sky moves in. Scattered braziers burn a golden hue across the darkening space. The array of colors reminds him of the gilded beauty dressed in blue.

“Say Cullen…” Delrin begins musingly, “Are you acquainted with a mage named Aurora?”

Cullen pauses, directing his eyes from the chess board to Delrin’s. Tentatively he responds, “Yes…well, I know her from long ago.” He shrugs leaning back in his chair placing his elbows on the armrests, tenting his fingers. “A lifetime ago, really. How do you know Aurora?”

“I met her the other day, after my promotion. She is a curious woman.” He leans his elbow on an armrest of his chair, placing his chin on his fist again.

Cullen smirks a moment, “Ah… yes… after your promotion.”

“Yes?” Delrin lifts questioning brows.                                                                                  

Cullen runs his hands through his hair and smiles, “Don’t be surprised if women like Aurora start appearing more often. You have a position of rank now.” He sighs and rolls his eyes, “It is a highly effective aphrodisiac for some.”

What Cullen says is true, ever since rumor began that Delrin would be made Knight-Commander, women have been practically tripping over themselves to seek his attention. He politely staved them all off, but something about this particular woman was different.

Delrin hums with a nod, “Yes… and if that was all this was, I would have to agree to what you are alluding. But this was different.” He shifts his weight to the back of the chair and tents his own fingers. “Well, our first meeting was not,” he continues. Cullen grins a knowing smirk, his eyebrows swiftly rise. “But I saw her again. Actually, I played wicked grace with her and her companions. I watched how she interacted with her friends. She is quite fiery.”

Cullen chuckles, “I see. Yes, Aurora was never one to be timid.”

“That’s the thing,” Delrin leans forward, eyes glinting with a crinkle pinched between his brows. “She is timid with me - flinches when I speak to her. But when she first approached me, she was so brazen.” He rubs his hand over his head and continues, bewildered and fascinated, “I find her alluring, but she seems to have lost all interest… seems to prefer I keep my distance.”

Cullen shrugs, “Far be it from me to know anything about what lies within a woman’s mind, Delrin. I’m afraid I cannot aid you.”

Delrin says thoughtfully, “Perhaps I should let it go.”

“May not be a bad idea, if she has expressed a desire for distance. I’ve seen her eat lesser men alive… figuratively of course.” Cullen chuckles softly, “She is not a woman you want to annoy, that is for certain.”

Delrin stares into the ever darkening sky. The gardens have all but cleared. There is a peaceful, warm glow cascading through the air from its lit torches.

It is the way with which she carries herself with such purpose that draws Delrin to her. She seems fearless, when there is so much in this world to fear. Especially for a mage. And yet, she loses her defenses when he speaks to her. A fact that appears to bother her a great deal.

“Yes, I should let her be.” Delrin smiles and bows his head to Cullen as he rises from his seat. “Good game, Cullen. I look forward to a rematch.”

--

Delrin enters the Herald’s Rest. It is a lively scene, though he’s come to expect that in this tavern. Those in Skyhold work tirelessly day in and day out, but they enjoy themselves with just as much vigor. As well they should. No one knows what tomorrow will bring.

He purchases ale and surveys the room. He smiles at the joviality surrounding him. He hears a particularly blissful sound from across the room. Guttural booming laughter from group of familiar faces sitting at a table in a small enclave. A few of the folks he had spent the evening with other night, plus another man Delrin believes is the mage, Dorian Pavus. Attracted to the exuberance of the table, Delrin approaches.

As he advances, he notices that in the corner of the table’s enclave sits Aurora. He had not seen her there before. Delrin instantly reconsiders his decision, but Sera spots him before he can alter his course. “Oi! Look who it is!” Her eyes light up as she ribs Varric, who sits beside her.

Varric smirks at Delrin, stealing a quick glance across the table at Aurora before saying, “How’s it goin’ Knight-Commander?”

Aurora slams her hands flat on the table in front of her. Blurry eyed, she looks at Delrin. “Wut er you dune here?” she slurs. It appears she has imbibed quite a lot this evening.

“Oh, I was just passing by, don’t mind me. Glad to see you all are having a good time.” He smiles, raising his tankard, and bows his head before he turns to retreat.

“Ooooh no you dunt,” Aurora yells.

Varric hesitates, “Aurora what are you…” Delrin looks back over his shoulder to the table, seeing that she has hoisted her body upon it and is slithering to the end.

“Go get’im!” Sera cheers. Across from the elf and next to where Aurora once sat, Dorian grins at Delrin wickedly as he claps his hands.

Quickly, Delrin spins around. He shoves his tankard into Sera’s hands so that he is able to catch Aurora as she spills off of the table. The cotton of her simple, blue robes snag in the wood, causing her to trip-up, tumbling ungracefully into Delrin’s arms. He attempts to stand her straight and stabilize her shaky frame. He holds her bent elbows securely in his hands. He tries to look into her eyes, but they have the unfocused glaze of intoxication.

“Aurora, be careful,” he says. “You don’t want another ruined set of robes.”

Aurora flings her fingers around dismissively. “Ah piss, these er nuthin.” She smiles and stares back at him, eyes bleary and hooded. The corners of her mouth slide into a lazy curl. “Hi,” she says and slumps into his arms.

“Aurora, I think maybe you should sit.” He smiles at her, so not to upset her, but he worries for her current state. “Or perhaps I should take you to your bed.” As soon as the phrase spills from his lips, he regrets it. Delrin feels heat rise in his cheeks at his unfortunate choice in words.

“Uh-uh. You ain’t beddin’ me that easy…” she shoves a finger into Delrin’s breastplate, following it with a look of concern. “Ouch… yer chest bit me,” her frown spins back into a snickering grin, delightfully amused with herself.

Delrin attempts to place her in the nearest chair, but she quickly drapes her arms around his neck refusing to sit. “No! I wanna dance.” Her eyes light up, as if someone else suggested the idea. “Yis! Dance with me Ser Ber…bliss.” She hiccups.

“I don’t think that’s a…”

“Nonsenst!” She stands on her own for a moment and smooths out her robes. She squares her shoulders and tries to look down her nose at the Knight, even though she stands a bit shorter than him. It’s too endearing for Delrin not to smirk at her attempt to look so lofty, her body lightly swaying as she postures. “I order you to dance with…with me.”

Delrin smiles broadly at seeing her fiery nature brimming in his direction.

“If you dunt, I will force push you off the battle…mints!” Another hiccup interrupts her speech. Delrin laughs and raises his hands in surrender. Only to quickly bring them back to catch her as her body threatens to fall. She points at the minstrel behind him and beckons, “Play sum’in pretty!”

Does this woman truly want me to keep my distance? Delrin wonders as she nuzzles her head onto his shoulder. He can feel her breath on his neck as he slowly spins her around the room to the music. He feels tremendously guilty for enjoying her embrace considering her condition. He feels even guiltier for wishing he was not still in his armor, so that he could better feel her soft, curvy body pressed against his.

Delrin shakes those thoughts out of his head. He should be ashamed, the indecency.

Heat blooms and rises in his core however, as he feels her lips ghost on his neck. She is whispering something. It is barely audible, but he believes he catches, “I will always miss you, my darling.” Delrin has a strong feeling that she is not actually referring to him. At this point, the guilt festering within him knows no bounds.

A little louder, but still into the skin of his neck, she addresses him, “Barris…”

“Yes, my lady?”

She holds on to him with a tighter grip. “You make me…feel.”

Delrin pushes her away just enough to see her face. She has the most beautiful blue eyes, but they are glassy with unspent tears. She smiles at him briefly, then furrows her blonde brow, parting her full, pink lips. “The spirit, Barris…”

“What spirit?” He asks, holding her softly, but with support. Worry stretches in his gut. Knowing all too well the struggles mages have with spirits and demons across the veil.

"He said, I can love.” She smiles and rests her head upon his shoulder again. She whispers, “He told me not to hide from you.” The sudden clarity of her words is jarring, but Delrin cannot help himself from embracing the warmth that her words conjure within him. She continues her murmurs, “He meant for us to heal each other.”

Delrin indulges an impulse, turning to rest his mouth softly on the top of her head. “Who was this spirit, Aurora?” he whispers a smile into her blonde hair. He breathes her in, she smells warm, like spice, and comforting, like old books.

She picks her head up and smiles into his eyes again. The sincerity of her smile is overwhelming. Delrin should be far more concerned about her intoxication, however he cannot help but enjoy these moments of intimacy.

She stops their slow dancing and furrows her brow. A look of concern crosses her face, quickly replaced with surprise, followed speedily by a mad dash for an empty tankard on a nearby table.

Followed by the sounds of retching.

Reality sets in as he is reminded just how inebriated Aurora is. Delrin rushes to her side, pulling her long, softly curled hair out of the way as she voids her stomach into the tankard. Sera screeches behind them and runs to help.

“Ay, you ninny. Looks like you’ve had ‘nough, eh?” Sera coos into her friend’s ear and rubs her back.

“I’m so sorry,” Aurora coughs, hunched over and groaning.

When it seems she is spent, Sera looks up at Delrin and motions her head toward the stairs. “Help me get her upstairs, yeah?” she says. “She can sleep it off in my room.”

Effortlessly, Delrin lifts Aurora in his arms. He cradles her body snuggly against his while following Sera up to her room. Aurora peers up at him, cupping his cheek in her hand. “You’re such a good man, Delrin,” her strained throat whispers. “I don’t deserve you.” Her thumb gingerly traces his lips, down to his chin. “But I could love you.”

A slight upturn to his lips, he whispers back to her, “I estimate you will feel pretty dreadful tomorrow, my lady. I will bring you water after you are secured.”

Entering Sera’s small room in the tavern, he gently lays Aurora on a long, cushioned bench. Aurora grabs his hand, whimpering softly, as he pulls away. He squeezes it and smiles at her. “Rest now, Aurora,” he says softly.

Turning to the elf he declares, “Right. I will find her some water and a bucket, just in case any more sickness threatens to expel itself.” With Sera’s nod, Delrin jogs back down to the lower level of the tavern. A little spring in his step. A faint smile on his lips. A soft glow in his heart.

He thinks to himself about what she said. However drunk she may be, he can’t help but feel excitement. Nothing has been the same since Aurora came into his world. His stressful, torn asunder, dismal world.

He wasn’t sure if commanding the reconstruction of the Templar order was a blessing or a curse. But he was bound to it. Unwavering. The issues the Red Templars bring to the order weigh heavy on his mind, darkening his days. He began losing hope that the world would ever be safe and just. No matter what, something sinister always lurks in the shadows, waiting to weaken his spirit further. And the world is full of shadows.

And then Aurora.

Aurora.

He could say her name a thousand times and it would still bring him a blissful smile.

She has so much fire, so much spirit. Her light is making him feel things he never thought possible. He had reserved his life to one shrouded in death and decay. He dared not dream of anything better, until Aurora.

Her words tonight are a small, glimmering beacon. He wishes to race to it, even though it hides from him. While her confession is encouraging, she will likely not remember dropping her guard, and speaking to him so plainly. But however faint, he will follow the hope she gives him, little by little.

Delrin can sense that she is wounded. Scared. Trepidatious. But he is patient. In time, he will heal her as she is healing him.

[sebastianshaw]

[Another Maddy POV thing. I figure some context might be needed, since this references issues/events that modern readers might not be familiar with unless they're Maddy fans too. It's a little long/complicated, sorry, I'll try to condense it as much as possible. When Nate Grey arrived in 616 from AoA, he was lonely and confused in this new world, so unconsciously his mind reached out on the psychic plane seeking the essence of his “mother” Jean Grey, and instead got the ghost of Madelyne Pryor instead, which he unknowingly gave a psychically constructed body to, much like how Xavier's mind created Onslaught. Maddy, for her part, was amnesiac, she just basically appeared into reality with no memory but was drawn to Nate, who had no idea he'd created her or that she was his mother's clone, and they became friends traveling the world. While in Paris, Selene lured her away from Nate, used her to ensnare Trevor Fitzroy into her service as well, then brought the both of them to meet Sebastian Shaw in a bid for her to be admitted back to the Hellfire Club. Shaw met Maddy and this scene occurred. Meanwhile, Nate had found another companion in another woman, named Threnody, a mutant who had death-related powers and a past with Mr. Sinister. Unbeknowst to Selene, Maddy returned to Sebastian's yacht after meeting him, and spent the night there. Tessa, who didn't trust her, invaded her mind in her sleep, and accidentally caused Madelyne's memories to return. While Madelyne reflected on this, Shaw came out to put a blanket over her and asks what will happen to her when Selene finds out she was here. Maddy in response heals Sebastian's facial scar, which he'd had since he returned from his “death” at the hands of his abused son Shinobi, and said it was a suggestion of what they might accomplish together. She then left to find Nate again, but when she tried to ask Threnody to bring her to him, Threnody mocked Madelyne for her clone status and her history, which she had learned from Sinister, and then proclaimed that her powers indicated to her that Madelyne WAS STILL DEAD. Shocked and outraged, Madelyne killed her. She then successfully reunited with Nate, but it was short-lived, as Jean, having sensed Maddy's return, arrived on the scene. Nate found out Madelyne's past, and it was realized how Nate had brought her to life while wanting Jean all along. Believing he had wronged Madelyne by bringing her back from the dead, he tried to destroy her, to kill her, to unmake her, but Madelyne, who wanted to live, fought back. She had become independent of Nate, able to exist on her own without his willing it, and she teleported away from him, back to Shaw, which is when this scene happened. Ok, now the actual fic.]

“I did die. Above the streets of New York, who knows how long ago, at the hands of my "friends" the X-Men--in the arms of that witch. Even if I never truly lived at all, I surely died. How..? How can this be happening...again? Is this my destiny...my eternal damnation...the fate of some unforgiven orphan of nature, who no creature of Heaven or Hell will have?” - Madelyne Pryor, X-Man #25 It wasn't that she'd really wanted to see this Shaw man again. She had just wanted to get away from Selene, not to mention that sleaze, Fitzroy. Selene was just...so restrictive, she didn't even let Ella and her leave the hotel where they were staying. Madelyne didn't remember who she was, but she felt an instinctive buck against any attempt to control or limit her. She doubted Shaw and his pet—as Selene called her—Tessa were much better, but they were the only other options she had. Maybe they could help her find Nate again; Selene surely wouldn't, she had led her AWAY from him. But here he was, in New York, she had seen him when she was out with Ella, and she would have gone to him, she should have gone, but...Ella had begged her to please come back to the hotel, that she didn't want to get caught by Selene. After having found the stash of bodies in Selene's mansion, Madelyne had to admit Ella had a point in her paranoia, and acquiesced to the panicking maid's pleads. Funny, now, to think she'd ever worried about death. Indeed, it made so much sense now, why she really hadn't minded the pile of corpses that lay rotting in her ex-mistress's abode. No, it wasn't fear of Selene that led her to Shaw...more rebellion. Rebellion, and possible opportunity. He had let her stay, given her a room of her own on the yacht. And then Tessa, that little toady, had come creeping into her brain like a thief in the night, trying to unravel her, lay her out to be examined like some experiment—ha, been there done that---and gotten so much more than she'd bargained for, the wretch. Madelyne had wanted to kill her fo the indignity---no one played with her not ever again---but Shaw would surely consider it suspicious if his treasured assistant dropped dead for no reason the same night she came onboard...so she settled for wiping the woman's mind. Tessa was a telepath, but she couldn't stand up against the...the... She wasn't the Goblyn Queen, not anymore. But she remembered it now. She remembered it all. For better or for worse. As she'd stood on the boat's edge, staring into the dark sky and darker water, he had come to put a blanket on her shoulders, shielding her from the night---or was it morning—air, and asking her what Selene would do when she found out about Madelyne's little unapproved outing. The idea that Madelyne---Madelyne, who now knew who she was, who knew she would never answer to anyone again---would even care actually brought a smile to her lips. As for his little gesture, she knew this was surely manipulation just as she now realized Selene had done, just as everyone had done to her. It was not genuine kindness, but still, it was...kindness. Concern. It wasn't real, but nothing good in her life was real, and in this moment, she was so starved for it that she'd take what she could get.

And she wanted to give him something in return for it.

She'd been a healer once. Before she had been the Goblyn Queen, she had briefly been Anodyne, able to take away sickness and pain, rather than cause it. Maybe...maybe...maybe she still could. Maybe deep down, the magic that had given her those powers was still inside her. Stranger things had happened. Like being alive again, for instance, a fact she still had yet to process. She reached up to his face, and thought about how she would make that scar telekinetically, how she would wound someone with lacerating psychic force...and then she thought about it in reverse. The skin mended under her hand instantaneously, completely, as if the scar had never been, had never happened. If only scars inside could work that way. She'd told him it was a suggestion of what they could accomplish together, but in reality she hadn't meant it. She'd thought that would be the last she saw of him, the last she'd have to do with him or Selene or the Hellfire Club. Madelyne knew who she was now---a fact which, ironically, hurt her sense of identity far more than when she'd been amnesiac—and so she went in search of Nate, to...to...she didn't know what. She just knew she needed him, that he was all she had, the only person that was hers in a world that had taken everything.

She didn't know what she'd been expecting. But not this. Not to find out that she wasn't just a clone anymore, that she was now even less real than that, that she was still dead, she was a ghost, given a solid body by Nate.

And she had never, ever expected that upon finding this out...Nate would try to kill her. Unmake her. Destroy her. Cast her aside like everyone else in her life, like every man had, and of course Jean had been there, Jean had gotten him to do it, Jean had been the one he wanted all along, her resurrection was due to him having reached out to find Jean and gotten her instead, the copy, second best, no one ever saw her, only jean, they only ever saw Jean---

No.

One person saw her.

So she went back to him.

Madelyne might not ever have love, but she would at least have recognition. She wondered in the morning, if deep in her heart, she'd seen this coming, if that was why she'd hinted to him they could be partners. Because even if she hadn't expected all the finer details, she had known that she would be rejected, as she always was, and would need someone to run back to when Nate, all she had, would no longer have her. And better it be someone who might at least treat her like an equal, instead of another pawn like Selene.

Sebastian might yet do exactly that, of course.

But now she was ready for it. Being used was what she now remembered she was used to.

And Heaven help him and all of Hellfire if he tried.