#neurodivergent lit

[shaelashaela]

The King's Curse, ch. 7

[cw] drug use [reading time] 9 mins.

A howling wind whipped the snow into a frenzy all around me, buffeting my body despite my best efforts to pull my cloak tight around me. Lines of citrine threads ran along the thick cloth, and an alchemical invocation upon them helped to keep me warm, but I wondered for how much longer. I lost the means to recharge it along with my satchel. I pulled the hood tight around my face to keep the cold out, but I really should’ve brought a scarf. Even with thick gloves and boots, my hands and feet were numb.

I expected to spend more time scaling the mountain’s slopes, but the land at the top of the cliff featured a gentle grade instead, with a clear path cut through the rocks. Despite the pleasant surprise, I immediately fretted over the Queen’s words. Would the next challenge be another physical one? Or would I face something more sinister? The snowstorm already felt unnatural to me, and I supposed the Winter Court could and would set up just about any sort of trap on the side of the mountain.

The intense climb left my arms and legs exhausted. With each step, my feet sank into the snow, and I had to exert considerable effort to pull them back out again. I wasn’t certain that I would make it much farther, especially if the storm refused to break.

My hand drifted to the pouch on my belt, fingers lightly caressing the leather. Dare I…?

I shook the thought from my head. No, I simply needed to persevere. I wasn’t exactly athletic, but I could make my way through this. How much further could it be? Surely this black crocus didn’t grow on the very summit, right?

Come to think of it, there was little in the way of vegetation outside of some scrubby evergreens. No signs of wildlife, either. I wondered if this area ever saw a season that resembled spring. Doubtful.

The path suddenly cut in two directions, one to the left that led further up the mountain, and the other to the right. I looked over with some disbelief. Not far down the righthand fork was a little cave opening. Shelter and a bit of rest were just what I needed! I all but dove headfirst into the cave, though that was likely unwise. Briefly I hoped I wouldn’t wake a hibernating bear, but it was a bit late for that.

Thankfully, there were no bears to be found. The cave itself was really more of a nook in the mountain, barely large enough for two or three people to huddle in. It was enclosed, however, and protected from the wind. I was also not the first person to shelter there. I walked in and sat down at the remains of a campfire.

Whomever made this certainly would have brought the wood with them; there were no trees outside. I sifted through the black ash. It was long cold, maybe even years old, but I discovered that a few small chips of unburnt wood remained. My heart jumped with excitement. If I piled them up, I might be able to start a small fire.

I removed my gloves and reached in my pocket for my flint—luckily, it was not in my satchel. My striker, however, was. Gathering a handful of dead plants from the mouth of the cave, I attempted to use my belt buckle as a makeshift striker to light them. After a dozen fumbling attempts with my rimed hands, I almost gave up, but finally a small spark flew, and a flame ignited.

I let out a heavy sigh that coiled in the cold air like smoky dragon’s breath. The little bits of glowing coal would never be enough to warm me up completely, but maybe I could get some blood flowing to my hands again. I held them close to it, soaking up what little warmth could be had, and I wiggled my fingers, working out the stiffness. Looking at them made me wish I had put on Papa’s rings earlier instead of leaving them in my bag. I had a feeling that I would need whatever alchemical tools I could get my hands on.

Something glinted at me in the afternoon light, nestled in the ashes around the campfire. I didn’t really want to dig in the dirt as it would freeze my fingers again, but I was curious. Carefully, I pried a small object out of the dirt and ash with my fingernails.

I turned it over in my palm and brushed the grime away with a thumb. It was a little golden locket. The leather cord threaded through it disintegrated in my hand. How long had it been here? Despite my icy, protesting fingertips, I pried it open. Inside was a tiny, hand-painted portrait of an elven girl. It was faded and worn, but I could see she had long, blonde hair and a beautiful white gown. I could’ve mistaken her for me if it weren’t that she had blue eyes instead of green. Someone dropped a precious memory here. Perhaps they failed to overcome the mountain and died here. I shuddered at the thought. Would I meet a similar fate?

I pursed my lips. I couldn’t say for certain if I could actually achieve what the Queen asked of me or not. My eyes fell upon a delicate silver bracelet with little crow charms dangling from my left wrist. It was a gift from Rayna. I chided her for spending money on such a gift when I knew she didn’t have much, unintentionally embarrassing her. Humans could be just as proud as elves, I learned. Now I wore it as much out of guilt as appreciation.

If I lived through this, hopefully she would understand. If not, then maybe it would serve as a reminder that I existed to the next person who stopped to rest in this alcove. I unclasped the bracelet and let it fall to the ground, and I placed the locket next to it. A graveyard of precious memories. Tears welled up in my eyes. I was so exhausted. My body gave out, and I fell back upon the stony wall to get as comfortable as I might.

I cried and wished that I could be in her arms.

My pathetic little fire still glowed orange when I awoke, but outside the cave, day had given way to twilight. Blast! I’d slept too long. I had no idea how far the journey was, so I was not of a mind to waste daylight hours. Pushing myself into an upright position proved difficult, and I faltered. Every muscle in my body protested against going further.

“I don’t have time for rest,” I growled at myself.

I gave myself another push and hauled my tired excuse for a body to its feet. I took two steps toward the entrance, but I wavered. Maybe I didn’t have the strength to go on tonight. Would I dare waste time sleeping until morning?

My cheeks stung from a few well-placed slaps to wake myself up. I would continue on no matter what. Rayna depended on me. Every step toward my goal was worth taking. I gathered a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Okay, maybe it was time.

My freezing fingers unclasped my father’s pouch. It contained mostly alchemical reagents for a variety of purposes, but there was one vial that could help me right now. Carefully, I plucked it from the band that held it fast and lifted it up to the dwindling light. The glass tube contained a bit of purple-grey powder that sparkled in the firelight. I didn’t like to abuse glitterdust, but right now I was low on options. I popped off the tiny cork and put the vial to my nostril, inhaling deeply.

A bolt of lightning shot through my face, and then it spread quickly through my eyes and ears, followed by the rest of my body. Within seconds, I felt clearer, more focused, and the nagging pain I felt across the whole of me faded into the background.

I pulled my gloves back on and stepped out onto the mountainside. Ice and snow pelted my face, but it would not hinder me now. I focused my eyes up the path and pushed through, one heavy footstep at a time.

Enough evening light remained that I could see my destination in the distance. The trail I followed continued onwards for maybe a hundred metres more, and then it crested a small hill. The terrain looked like it might be more flat beyond that. With that goal in my brain, I found it easier to push my way up the slope.

After a couple minutes of steady progress, I reached the top of the hill. Just as I suspected, the rocky outcroppings gave way to a small valley nestled in the bosom of the mountain. More shocking to me, however, was that I saw light. The storm threatened to obscure everything with snow, but I could clearly see square lights, as if from the windows of a home. Eagerly, I ran through snow as fast as I could between my weak muscles and the shin-deep powder.

I laughed. It wasn’t an illusion! As I grew closer, the outline of a tiny cabin emerged from the dark and snowy backdrop. Light streamed forth from glass panes. Maybe the occupant would let me shelter there. They might even share some supplies with me. I brimmed over with hope.

The front door rattled with strikes from my fist. I waited. One breath, two breaths, three breaths. I heard nothing within. Was anyone actually home? I knocked again. One breath, two breaths, three breaths. Still nothing. Surely they wouldn’t mind if I stepped inside while they were away? I tried the handle, and it turned without resistance. Shameless, I pushed my way inside the tiny cabin and slammed the door shut behind me to keep the cold out. I turned to face the interior.

“Sorry, it wasn’t locked—what the hell?”

I looked around, mouth agape. The light was much warmer than it appeared from outside, dim and cozy. My nostrils immediately filled with the smell of burning, acrid chemicals, and I could hear the bubbling of a beaker. Tools and papers filled every wooden table and shelf. I knew this place. I knew it well.

A deep, male voice filled my ears. “Sylvie?”

Slowly, I turned to my left to face the man who addressed me. He was taller than me, with closed-cropped dark hair. His musky cologne smelled familiar to me. Tears fell down my face without hesitation.

“Papa?”

He strode forward in a swirl of brown silken robes, and he placed his hands on my shoulders briefly before placing a kiss on my forehead. “Good morning! You slept in. I was afraid you might miss your lesson.”

My eyes darted back and forth. Was this really happening? “Lesson?”

“Yes. We were to pick up where we left off yesterday, with the powdered sulphur compound I showed you.” He wiped the tears from my cheeks with one knuckle. “Are you feeling well?”

I shook my head. “I’m not sure. Just a little disoriented is all.” I grabbed him about the waist and squeezed him tight. “Papa, I love you.”

His hand touched the top of my head, and he tousled my hair. “I love you, too, Evening Star. What has gotten into you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I laughed. “I’d love to learn more from you.”

There was a soft knock on the door. Was someone else out here on the mountain? The door opened, and I let Papa go so I could see who entered. My jaw dropped again. It was Mama! She wore her usual dark pantsuit and had her long hair tied up with a ribbon. Mama always tried her best to blend in with human society, unlike my father. She held a tray of tea and biscuits in her hands, and she used it to push some clutter out of the way so she could set it down next to me.

“Good morning, Shaela-Shaela,” she cooed. “I knew you would both be very busy today, so I brought you some tea.”

“Thank you, Mama.” I didn’t know what else to say.

She smiled and turned back to the door. “I am off to take care of some things for the day. Good luck!”

I watched her exit, and beyond the door was not a snowstorm but a hallway, one I’d seen thousands of times. I was back in the house I’d grown up in, far from the fey realms and the Winter Court. Was it all a bad dream? Did I imagine the ugly business with Ixion and King Oberon?

But then, maybe that meant I imagined Rayna as well…

Before I could put more thought into it, there was another knock at the door, this one more firm than my mother’s. Who else was with us? The three of us were the only ones who lived here.

Papa fussed with one of his apparatuses, not even removing his eyes from it. “Sylvie, darling, get the door, would you?”

I nodded dumbly, both curious and dreadful. What if I walked back out into the snow and lost it all again? I swallowed my fear and reached for the handle, then pulled it as slowly as possible. The door swung inward, and there stood an elf who nearly made me jump out of my skin. He was tall and had an angled face, not unlike my father’s, but his dark hair was still long and spilled over his shoulders like a cascade of water.

He smiled, but to my surprise, his teeth were unsharpened and normal. “Good morning, Shaela-Shaela! Certainly taking your time.”

Without a word, Ixion—or was it Nox?—strode into the workshop, and my father grunted a friendly greeting at him.

My voice shook. “What are you doing here?”

They both looked at me with incredulity in their eyes. Nox spoke for them. “Is this a jest, Sylvie? I work with your father, you know that.” An uncomfortable laugh escaped his throat.

I touched one hand to the back of my head and blushed. “Oh, yes, sorry.”

My father and uncle proceeded to discuss some sort of alchemical minutiae, ignoring me for the time being. Maybe this was real, after all? Maybe this was how it was supposed to be all along? I looked down at my left wrist. The silver bracelet with crows was gone. Maybe I just made up Rayna? Maybe it was all a dream?

I watched them work. They definitely looked like brothers, and, to my relief, Nox wasn’t trying to kill Papa. Papa was still alive! What a horrible nightmare I had lived! And yet… something felt off.

No, this was very wrong. Papa was dead. I knew that for certain. I held his ashes at his funeral and placed them in the family tomb. No matter how much I wanted it to be a bad dream, it wasn’t. Nox was gone too, and there was something important I needed to do. This was all fantasy, another challenge conjured by the mountain to stop me.

I reached for the door one more time, and I put my hand on the latch.

Nox’s voice carried across the workshop, clear and bright. “Where are you going?”

Papa chimed in as well. “Did you forget something?”

Briefly, I looked over my shoulder at my father. Oh, how it broke my heart to leave him. “Yeah, I think I did. I love you, Papa.”

I opened the door, and once more the snow raged in front of me. Bitter cold stung my nose and lips. I took one step outside, and behind me I heard a more characteristic roar of anger from Ixion. Something slammed into my back and shoved me out into the cold.

[sleeplessv0id]

eat your favorite breakfast and tell yourself it tastes good, sit in the sunlight, and tell yourself it feels great.

just keep doing that until you believe it, and suddenly, one day, all the good feelings you thought you'd lost come back.

you will make it out of this.

[amphibimations]

(34)- i always do this.

[cardiagf]

An In-Depth Analysis of Okita and Saito Being Foils to One Another

Disclaimer:

I have only played the first game, and kyoto winds + edo blossoms so I may have missed a lot of other qualities from other sources.

This whole thing was born out of hyperfixation so it's not exactly a perfect analysis, just wanted to write ab these two regardless!

Also feel free to add details that I have missed :)

Spoilers ahead! mostly just from the CGs I have included in this post but this is an analysis either way so...

Long post ahead as well so buckle up.

What is a "Foil"?

Simply put, a foil is a character that contrasts another character to better highlight the qualities that these individual characters possess. One of the most popular literary examples of foils are Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.

And in this case, I will be highlighting the differences (and resemblance) of the Hakuoki characters, Okita Souji and Saito Hajime to each other

By Design

First, I would like to discuss their character design and how we can see them as characters by appearance

Their designs are a striking contrast of each other.

Seen by how more open and how thinly-clothed Okita is, highlighting his harsh and straightforward nature, he's someone who's not afraid to speak his mind.

On the other hand, Saito's design is more modest. Paired with a scarf that wraps around him and with socks as well, highlighting how reserved he is and how he usually keeps to himself, he's someone who is more closed off.

Their hairstyles also show more of their character, as Okita's hair is up and is like that because he's copying Kondou. On the other hand, Saito's hair seems more unkempt, it's covering half of his face and his right eye completely but he doesn't really care much for it, something that also contrasts how Okita's right side of face is more exposed

Their color palettes also create a difference between the two of them, a muted red with green accents for Okita while a vivid blue with cold silver/white accents for Saito

Sword placements are also on opposing sides but that's already a given since this is Saito.

As They Are

But beyond their appearance they have demeanors that separate them from one another, something that highly accentuates both of their characters personality-wise, these qualities being:

How Okita can be easily likened to a cat while Saito leans more to being dog-like. (It's also so much more complex than that as their own personalities seems to be reversed in this situation but it also makes so much sense why they are the way they are).

Their voices also contrast each other, Okita with Morikubo's high pitched playful voice v.s. Toriumi's deep and serious one.

They also have this thing where one could easily assume that someone like Okita would be using the 'Ore' pronoun for himself (bc it's more "vulgar") but he actually uses 'Boku' and Saito's the one who actually uses 'Ore.'

They're both blunt in their own ways: with Okita being far harsher with his words compared to how Saito speaks bluntly but with less of an edge and with more tact.

One's loyalty is placed towards Hijikata as he's the one who primarily runs the Shinsengumi while the other hates Hijikata's guts because he is Kondou's closest confidant and friend. Okita is undyingly loyal to Kondou as much as Saito is to his purpose of serving the Shinsengumi to a fault.

They constantly overwork themselves to the bone because they want to be useful to the Shinsengumi/the people that their loyalty lies on and both are really annoying patients when they get hurt because they will stop at NOTHING to try and be of help to the Shinsengumi.

^This creates a contrast on their roles as Saito was one of the most active people in the Shinsengumi (especially in his route) in contrast to Okita, who was bedridden in all of the routes even in his own, not being able to do much to help his comrades in battle due to his condition.

Okita sees everyone as equal, as in he doesn't care about anyone else besides Kondou as he is the only person he thinks highly of. He thinks of everyone else, including himself to be under Kondou.

While Saito is in the position of constant belittlement of others just for being left handed, he wants more than anyone to be seen as an equal as he does so for everyone especially in a place of battle. But he doesn't belittle others in the way that Okita does even if he sees people like Hijikata as someone above him.

One is stoic and seems emotionless but the other is a huge perpetual smiler. With Saito just being more composed, rather than being cunning or calculating like Okita, someone who hides it all with his smile in which we will dive more into...

Both Okita and Saito are highly emotionally repressed individuals, brought by how they were treated in their younger days.

Saito had always suppressed his emotions to cultivate a clearer and more rational mind, fearing that this could hinder his ability to do his job and to do his job well. He fears that emotions could cloud his judgement especially during the times where he needed to be level-headed.

While Okita is someone who DOES let his emotions get ahead of him bc of his dedication to Kondou. But these emotions are only focused on one thing and that is everything that involves Kondou and Kondou alone. Everything else that wasn't about him is something that he absolutely does not care about.

They're both emotional beings (naturally) but Saito whose repressed feelings and stoic demeanor may make him seem more cold and apathetic when in reality he isn't as merciless as how the thorny Okita can be if it didn't (or if it did) involved Kondou.

Have I been of any use to the Shinsengumi at all?

Now, let's move onto the main meat of this analysis: their character motivation and their desires.

Both Okita and Saito wants to be of help to the Shinsengumi, or mainly the people that they are loyal to.

They both have this problem of seeing themselves as a tool for the Shinsengumi. This is something that both are more than willing to be one because of the people that gave them purpose: Kondou for Okita, and the Shinsengumi and by extent, Hijikata, for Saito for giving him a place to belong to, a place where he is respected for just being the way he is as a warrior and as a person.

The stark contrast between Saito and Okita especially with regards to how they view their duties as a member of the Shinsengumi and as warriors who had shed a lot of blood is hauntingly fascinating.

Both Okita and Saito had killed a LOT of people. It was part of the job anyways, and they were high ranking captains of the Shinsengumi, it'd be weirder if they haven't.

However, Saito is more of the pragmatic warrior of the two, aware of the lives that he took and how being a warrior means that it's a me or him situation. This means that he had killed a lot of people just so he can stay alive and be alive, as he is right now. Although killing isn't something he particularly enjoys, it's something that proves one's strength over the other.

However, all of this still encapsulates a form of respect in some way, moreso as a way to honor each other as a combatant. He isn't just mindlessly killing other people just because he was asked to or he needed to (of course, he would still kill them if that was what he was ordered to but he just doesn't unnecessarily shed blood if he didn't need to do so) and he's perfectly aware of all this as he carries this burden as a warrior.

Okita, on the other hand, is apathetic.

He's as aware as Saito when it comes to the deliberation of life and death between him and those that he had killed, it's just that he doesn't care since it was an order (something he can do for Kondou), so he will do it regardless of who or what you are, that is his burden and duty as the sword of the shinsengumi. if he has to kill he WILL kill.

I see it as something similar to projection of some sort, I think, since he has no other purpose, he isn't some kind of honorable pragmatic solider like Saito who lives for his sword and carries the heart of a warrior, what he wants is to be useful to Kondou and this is something he believes that he can do for him.

Other than this duty for Kondou, he has no other life to call as his. It's in his own cynical ways that makes it easy for him to take away the lives of other people. Which, in an almost karmic fashion, can his life be easily taken away by his incurable disease as well.

But something even more fascinating ab them is their individual motivations, their actual desires or what they actually wanted to do.

It is, however, blurred by their sense of duty and sticking to the purpose that they have crafted for themselves, they are driven by something that is both hugely different and quite similar to one another.

Okita KNOWS what he wants and that's to be useful to Kondou in any way that he can be. To him, his sole purpose is to serve Kondou. The idea of being useless to him is what mainly drives him into a a depressive spiral, he's THE sword of Shinsengumi, something that is at the extent of Kondou. For Okita, he sees himself as none other than a tool for Kondou's biddings.

Saito, on the other hand, found his purpose through the Shinsengumi. He had a place where he was accepted for who he is. He thrived in following orders from Hijikata as this is what fulfills him as a person, to be of use to those who accepted fully and didn't shun him away. But in comparison, Saito DOESN'T EXACTLY KNOW what he truly wants besides for honoring and priding himself as a warrior or as a vassal of the Shinsengumi.

He had trained hard for HIS sword and for his skills AS a warrior and he knows nothing beyond that. He also sees himself as a tool for the Shinsengumi's bidding but in a way that both differs and also resembles Okita's purpose for being in the Shinsengumi.

In Conclusion

Okita Souji and Saito Hajime are both well-written characters. These two are the two stand-out characters of the series and it's their own distinct differences that makes them stand out. Furthermore, they are the best example of foils in the whole series in comparison to the other foil characters in the series (such as Hijikata-Chikage), as they are both well fleshed out as individuals and moreso as a duo.

I just find it so interesting how the two of them resemble each other in contrasting ways. It's these differences they have that compliments and accentuates the qualities that they possess and I find that really fascinating.

Anyways I'm really bad at writing conclusions T___T but thank you so much for reading! I enjoyed writing this and hakuoki is like a dormant interest of mine so this was really fun to do :D

[env0writes]

A Gust of Words Vol. 4, 8.15.24 “Memento's"

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

I cannot toss the things that stay so long My inanimate friends You’ve seen me through harder times Longer than friends of yore And friends anew Who could ask for better friends than you About my bed Revolve my head Are trinkets I think are neat And clutter my thoughts with possessions Confessions to the white-washed walls Bind me with my bedsheets Slowly tearing apart Slowly falling apart Dust and rust and mildew You’ll do, little necklace My noose, hangs loose I cannot let you go from my breast You’ve been with me all this time Who am I? To part Friends I don’t have think it’s odd I speak for strangers But not to them And you will hear every whisper

[daynightshipping]

Get an f/o you can mutually infodump with

[deedoo-r]

AP Lit / AP Lang FRQ graders when one of the responses is a detailed guide on the most effective way to commit arson on a house at a specified address to ensure no survivors (It's their address) (but The student didn't provide a reasonable answer to the prompt, so they fail anyway)

[codename-adler]

"we need more complex neurodivergent characters!" you guys still can't handle Catcher in the Rye

[scribefindegil]

there is no real meaningful distinction between Art and Craft, however i personally can only do the type of Art that is also extremely Craft. i need to make physical things with my hands and use tools and manipulate little objects and hoard all the specialized knives. otherwise i will start biting.

[jetwhenitsmidnight]

Model Home by Rivers Solomon

Release date: 1 October 2024

Genre: adult literary thriller/horror

Synopsis

The three Maxwell siblings keep their distance from the lily-white gated enclave outside Dallas where they grew up. When their family moved there, they were the only Black family in the neighborhood. The neighbors acted nice enough, but right away bad things, scary things—the strange and the unexplainable—began to happen in their house. Maybe it was some cosmic trial, a demonic rite of passage into the upper-middle class. Whatever it was, the Maxwells, steered by their formidable mother, stayed put, unwilling to abandon their home, terrors and trauma be damned.

As adults, the siblings could finally get away from the horrors of home, leaving their parents all alone in the house. But when news of their parents' death arrives, Ezri is forced to return to Texas with their sisters, Eve and Emanuelle, to reckon with their family’s past and present, and to find out what happened while they were away. It was not a "natural" death for their parents . . . but was it supernatural?

Review

Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Thank you to NetGalley for an ARC!

This book is awful.

Don't get me wrong, this is a brilliant novel, but I found the reading experience to be really difficult. Not that I struggled to keep reading; I couldn't put it down. This book took a toll on me mentally as it went to some pretty dark places, some of which I did not see coming.

The writing is in the typical sort of litfic style, which I am usually not a fan of, but it really works to cultivate the overall mood/atmosphere of the book. The prose flows well, and strikes a fine balance between being complex but still readable.

The author uses the haunted house novel as a vehicle to explore themes of white supremacy, generational trauma, and cisheteronormativity. I am not smart enough to get everything, but the author does an excellent job of conveying the themes in the narrative.

There are time jumps, switching between the present day and scenes from Ezri's childhood, as well as dialogue without quotation marks, which were disorienting to read, but served the narrative well, as it conveyed their current mindset.

I really resonated with Ezri's relationship with their mother, as well as the themes of generational trauma; while my relationship to my mother is much better than their's, there were certain moments between them that I found quite relatable.

I read some reviews that didn't like the plot, or the ending; while there is definitely a large tonal shift at the end, due to the plot, I think that it makes sense thematically.

Overall, a book that is definitely going to be staying with me for some time.

Content warnings

I'm including the content warnings at the bottom of this review, as it contains spoilers; however, if you struggle with dark themes and difficult subject matter, I would advice that you check the content warnings before reading this book.

Keep in mind that I may have missed out certain warnings.

Death, suicide

Child abuse, emotional abuse

Homophobia, transphobia, slurs

Child sexual assault, grooming

Explicit sexual content

Animal death

Mental illness, depression, dissociation, suicidal thoughts

Chronic illness

Threat of gun violence

Racism, classism

Vomit

Disordered eating

Gaslighting

[jane-not-rizzoli]

I used to work in a library, one time this woman asked me if we had anything by Dostoevsky and I said “yeah, over there by the fire door.” And she laughed. It was a really beautiful moment.

[shaelashaela]

The King's Curse, ch. 3

[reading time] 5 mins.

Overhead, the sun beat down upon me, making for a strange combination of sensations. As I travelled east, the air all about me grew colder, and the grass crunched under my boots. But the sunlight was harsh and burned my skin. Knowing the weather would be chill, I brought a heavy cloak with me, but I constantly took it off and put it back on again as my body temperature oscillated. I hadn’t even made it to the Queen’s court yet, and annoyance already soured my mood.

I shielded my eyes with my hand and lifted my face towards the mountain. Throughout the day it had steadily grown closer to me as I moved east, and now that I was nearly at its foot, I could see it was not as tall as I imagined. Still, it was impressive and solitary among the fields of snow. It felt unnatural to me.

Thirty-seven, I counted, passing by a small stone stump. Worn with age, they were possibly some sort of road marker at one point. What exact pictograms or letters they once bore was unclear, but they led me in the right direction, fulfilling their ancient purpose as landmarks.

Most of the journey crossed a vast plain, but now as I entered the mountain’s shadow, the path cut through rock, hemmed in on either side. Twists and turns obscured my line of sight. From here on out, I would be quite vulnerable to ambush. I didn’t like it one bit, and my breath shortened. What might go wrong in there? If I ran into some random dark elf, would they kill me before I even reached my destination?

For a long time, I stood on the road, unable to urge myself forward. Wintervale suddenly felt far more inhospitable than it had that same morning.

Clip, clop. Clip, clop.

I heard but could not see. My breath caught in my throat, and I froze in place. Where were they?

Clip, clop. Clip, clop.

My head turned every which way, desperate to find the source.

Clip, clop. Clip, clop.

Before my very eyes, shadow coalesced and gave form to a black stallion, its hooves clacking on the rough cobblestones. Slowly, the darkness gathered, rising like smoke, and before long, the horse gained a rider. At first I saw only his greaves of black metal, twisted and bent like some great hand crushed them on to his body. Then his breastplate appeared in a similar gruesome fashion. Finally, his face, ashen and stern, came to rest upon his shoulders. Pale blond hair draped over his shoulders, wild and clumped together with sweat.

His steely eyes lanced my very soul. “State thy business,” he said plainly, his voice deep and even. The rider’s dialect was strange to me, unlike any Elvish variant I’d ever heard.

Nothing in the world could have compelled me to move or speak in that moment. My legs shook, and I feared my body would fail me completely.

“State thy business,” he repeated. “Or begone.”

Knowing that he didn’t intend to murder me right away returned some of my senses to me. I managed a soft reply. “The Queen has summoned me.”

His demeanour was inscrutable. “Thou art the one known as Sylvie Shaestari?”

I nodded dumbly.

Clip, clop. Clip, clop. The fearsome black stallion stepped closer to me, and his rider leaned forward, offering me a gauntleted hand. “Allow me to escort thee.”

Not knowing what else to do, I took his hand, and he hoisted me up so that I could climb into the saddle behind him. Once I was in place, I quickly withdrew my hand from his grip. My skin burned.

“Ow! Are you wearing iron?”

He urged his steed to turn and head eastward. “My apologies. ’Tis my burden.”

I dared not ask what he meant by that.

“My name is Nepenthe. I am bound to Queen Morrigan, and I will bring thee before her.”

“You have my gratitude.”

It was a genuine thanks, as I didn’t want to proceed deep into Wintervale without an escort. Still, his demeanour confused me. I looked down and noticed he carried a whip as his weapon—a long, coiled snake at his hip crafted from a series of vertebrae. I shuddered and hoped they weren’t elf bones.

The horse carried us deeper into the mountain pass, all featureless and grey. There was so little sign of life here. “Where is everyone?”

“We shall come upon a settlement anon. My men also ride with us.”

His men? I looked around, but saw nothing. They must also know whatever magic he used to remain completely invisible. I shuddered again. I didn’t like the thought of people watching me when I couldn’t see them myself.

Nepenthe’s steed jostled me, and I tried my best to hold on without touching the rider’s armour. I felt odd in that moment, as never did I imagine I might one day ride through Wintervale while having a perfectly civil conversation with a dark elf. Actually, I had to ask myself at that point: was he a dark elf? I narrowed my eyes and scrutinized him, but to my surprise, he had no aura of magic about him at all! What could that mean? Was he disconnected from the land entirely?

“Something troubles thee, m’lady.”

I jumped. How did he know? I was behind him. “I realize now that I know so little of the Winter Court. All my life I was told it was the domain of lunatics and hedonists. My one and only experience with dark elves before today reinforced that.”

He must’ve smiled. I could hear it in his voice. “Do I disappoint, m’lady?”

“Sorry, I meant no offence.”

“Thou didst not offend. In truth, thou remindest me of mine own daughter. She was quite inquisitive.”

“Oh? Maybe I could meet her.”

“Nay, m’lady. She is dead two centuries.”

I pursed my lips together and cursed myself for walking into a sensitive topic. I briefly considered apologizing, but decided it would be better if we completed the ride in silence.

My curiosity got the better of me, though. Something didn’t add up. “How… how old are you?”

“Over four hundred winters, m’lady. Forgive me, but I cannot recall with precision.”

What? I never heard of an elf living past two hundred fifty, save for the monarchs. How quickly I learned that I knew far less about my own home and people than I realized.

Deeper into the east we rode, and it felt to me an eternity. The sun sank lower behind us, though there was still some daylight left. My escort wasn’t overly chatty, but he did point out some landmarks to me along the way. True to his word, we also passed through a city, or a town, I wasn’t quite sure. Dozens of little grey houses flanked the road, but the populous ducked into their doorways as we wandered through. I couldn’t get a good feel for how many elves lived there.

“Why do they hide?”

Nepenthe paused briefly before answering, the first time he hesitated in our conversations. “They considereth me an ill omen, m’lady. I cannot fault them. I am the Queen’s hound, after a fashion. A demon to them.”

“Oh? You seem perfectly polite to me.”

“Thou art kind for saying so, m’lady. Let us hope thou remainest in Her Majesty’s good graces. I would loathe to hunt thee.”

Now I regretted asking. I still did not know what to expect of Queen Morrigan, and I had no doubt that if Nepenthe put his mind to it, he could end my existence without breaking a sweat. He was far too serious and straightforward to take lightly.

We reached the edge of the town, and the road ended at the foot of a hill. Stone steps ascended it to the top, where I could see a series of magnificent marble columns, but no roof. Halfway up, green grass gave way to powdery snow. Was this where the Queen held court? Out in the open?

My escort brought his steed to a full stop. “This is where we part ways, m’lady. The Queen awaits thee at the apex.”

He dismounted first with little effort despite his heavy iron armour. Then he reached up and took me by the waist, setting me gently on the ground. It felt weird to be handled like a princess, but I was thankful that I did not need to touch his gauntleted hand again.

I bowed slightly at the waist. “Thank you, sir knight.”

He took his horse by the reins and headed back the way we came. “I am no knight, m’lady. Remember that.”

What an odd set of parting words. I felt pity for him, though I couldn’t say why. Despite his even tone, he sounded sad to me. Perhaps he was also a victim of the Queen? Either way, I shook those thoughts from my head and turned to look up the multitude of stairs that were now the only thing between me and destiny. Briefly, I prayed I would see Rayna again someday before planting my foot on the first step.

[sleeplessv0id]

there was a star riding through clouds one night, and I said to the star, "consume me."

- virginia woolf, the waves

[auntbibby]

do u think in the christian hell in the river of flames, the neurodivergent trans ladies huddle together and cry and one is like "remember ice cream" and theyre all like "OUGH ICE CREAM I REMEMBER ICE CREAM!!!!!!!! I MISS ICE CREAM SO BAD" and then they go back to cryin and then one is like "remember rain" and theyre all like "OMG WTF HAPPENED TO RAIN WHERES THE RAIN?????? RAIN COME BACK!!!!!" and then they go back to cryin and then one is like "i love u girls" and theyre all like "I LOV U TOO!!!!! AUGH" and the love energy pushes back the flames for a second and everybodys like 🙀🙀🙀 and then the flames splash back in and everybody goes back to cryin

and then 2704yrs later the river of flames has dried up and neurodivergent trans ladies are just sittin on rocks smokin bits of ash and the cavern is lit from below by lil streaks of lava and one of the ladies takes a big long puff of ash and is like "...'member ice cream" and she exhales some dust and the other ladies are like ".......mmm"

[lukmarc10]

bye there's a whole ass debate in the aroace community rn about whether or not it's "morally correct" to ship alastor from hazbin hotel with other characters and write smut of him bc he's aroace 💀

MY BROTHER IN CHRIST, HE'S LITERALLY JUST A FICTIONAL CHARACTER. SHIPPING HIM WITH OTHER CHARACTERS ISN'T GONNA CHANGE THE CANON IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM. GET SOME REAL PROBLEMS.

– sincerely, a repulsed aroace who's tired of yalls bs

[env0writes]

Juniper Journal’s Vol. 2, 6.17.24 “Secondary Education"

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

The world is ending Or so it feels For when each day introduces new sorrows What foreboding hope can any tomorrows Bring to adolescence Pubescence’s, incessant advancement of age

How many more firsts Must we experience To know that autumn surely ends And that spring is near with friends To bloom into kinder kith And let the apocalypse pass like the setting sun

I look up through a pane of glass With pained glance To wish upon stars that cannot be seen So that I might wish upon things that cannot have been For no matter the words that I write No matter my plight Cannot erase what story’s been written

So that the world keeps ending Even if fire reigns in the sky When the yearning heart aches After the blood pools and suicidal dream wakes Who will I be come this decade Or will I too, like my scars – up and fade