#nopal's vault

[writernopal]

🌵Nopal's Vault🌵

Your eyes DO NOT deceive you! Your local pirate now has a website!

I'd been kicking around the idea of setting one up for some time and I finally decided to pull the trigger to get all things AASOAF (and future works!) in one, organized place. I'll be updating links around the old blog to reflect this change especially since M&A's Scrapbook will be moving over there pretty soon.

If you've got a spare minute, I'd love for you to check it out! Most of the stuff on there is what you've seen on this blog already but there might be one or two things you haven't yet seen 😉 totally not talking about the WIPs page

Anyway, enjoy! Or don't. Do whatever you want!

[polyanthea]

Nopal planta que se cría en la América y que produce la grana (The nopal plant that is grown in America and produces cochineal), in Reports on the History, Organization, and Status of Various Catholic Dioceses of New Spain and Peru, 1620–49, pigment and ink on paper. The Newberry Library, Chicago, Ayer MS 1106 D8 Vault Box 1 Folder 15.

[aronazhomes-blog]

Mesa

$230,000, 4 Beds, 2 Baths, 1,820 Sqr Feet  Great buy in Superstition Springs community, Single level, Large open floor plan, 4 Bedrooms, 2 Bath with Vaulted ceilings and a large side yard with concrete and RV gate, Newer AC unit and Hot water heater. However: This home needs some love and repair. With a little work and new carpet, paint, rep

[writernopal]

🔮She Doesn't Know How To Rest🌌

I came across this canon piece between Fay and Wilkes from their early days together that needed some love 🥺 They were both quite young and unfamiliar with each other here, but you can see some of their present qualities shine through, and it makes me so proud to see how far they've come! Although, it does make me nostalgic for the days when they were my only darlings 💖

CW: emaciation

“Wilkes. Wilkes, wake up.” 

I opened my eyes, blinking the blurry image of Fay into focus. She was already dressed and had what looked to be the pillow I’d let her borrow in her hands. I propped myself up, squinting at her with a frown.

“Fay…what is it?”

“I wanted to give you your pillow back. Thank you for letting me borrow it.” She said in a whisper. 

“Keep it. It’s alright.” I replied, tongue heavy and uncooperative in my mouth. It couldn’t already be morning, could it? No. My parents were still fast asleep, as was evident by my father’s snoring, and that was to make no mention of the night’s chill hanging in the air all around us. “Why are you awake so early?”

“I’m early to rise.” She said without further elaborating and offered me the pillow again. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to rest more?” I asked, “We have a three-day voyage ahead of us. You’ll need your strength for the journey.”

“Oh. I already packed the cot.”  She responded quietly. 

I tossed a look at where my mother had set up the cot for her, confirming through sleep-laden eyes that what she’d said was true. That wouldn’t do. Especially not after the day she’d had. I reached out and took the pillow from her with a tired groan, then scooted over to make room for her beside me on my own cot. It would be a tight fit at best, but I wouldn’t make her sleep on the floor. I set the pillow down, lifted the furs I was under, and patted the vacated spot tiredly. Her body tensed, and some strange thing flashed in her eyes. Fear, perhaps? 

“I’m not asking you for anything. If you don’t want to be close, I can lay on the ground.” I reassured her, “But you need to rest.”

She tightened her shawl around her shoulders and nodded, carefully approaching and making herself comfortable in the space I had made for her. I placed the furs over her gently and pulled my arm back to let it lay against my side, and folded the other under my head so I wouldn’t touch her even by mistake. Kindling that apparent apprehension from before would certainly make for a kind of torture I had no interest in inflicting. She nestled her head down into my pillow and took a deep breath. With that, I closed my eyes and decided that I would try to get some sleep too. At least, that had been the plan.

She shifted, and that’s when I noticed her quivering. Perhaps she was having second thoughts about accepting my invitation after all. I opened my eyes and nearly leapt out of my own scales. There in the darkness, her two round and piercing golden eyes affixed themselves upon me. They arrested any question I might have for her somewhere deep in my chest in a way I’d never felt before. 

“I’m cold.” She whispered.

Her voice swept over me like a gentle sea swell, lifting the scales along my spine as it returned to its master, tempting me to be even closer. 

“Should I get you another blanket?” I asked, throat suddenly feeling all too parched. 

She shook her head and inched closer. One of her skinny arms looped beneath mine and closed around me in a tired embrace. Such a gesture should not bear so much weight, so then why did I feel like I was being smothered?

“You’re really warm. It feels nice…” She explained, eyes falling shut. 

Her words slurred just the tiniest bit, making that rasp of hers just that much softer. Lower. Not sweet, but enticing all the same. I— I wanted to hear it again.

“Would you like me to hold you?” I asked, hoping my question and her response might both be loud enough to disguise the furious thumping of my heart.

“No one has ever asked me that before.” She responded in the same slur from before, “But I would like that…”

I wished she’d not been so brief, but she was tired, so I did as she might like and put my arm around her. She was not warm or soft in the slightest. Even through her clothes, I could feel the gaunt bones of her hips pressed to mine and the ridges of her spine under my palm. The flash of her knuckled chest that I’d caught earlier flew back into my mind. She was a veritable twig. I could probably snap her in two if I held her too tightly… 

I decided not to think about that too much and produced the softest chuffing I could manage, nursing that gentle warmth in my chest for her sake. Like moth to light, she immediately squeezed me with her other arm and fully cuddled into me. What should have been a soft visage against my form was little more than a skull, tenderly wrapped in skin and hair, but even so, it was charming to see her abandon her previous hesitation. For someone so initially skeptical about the offer, she certainly didn’t mind setting that aside for the warmth she so craved. But she left me no time for amusement at her change in attitude as another quickly followed. Her thin frame soon slackened with sleep, releasing the last of her worries, and I couldn’t help but smile. Were it not the dead of night, I might even laugh. She wasn’t early to rise. She just didn’t know how to rest. 

[writernopal]

Handkerchief

Alright, I know I said this weekend @outpost51, but I got ahead of myself, so you're getting this today!

For anyone who missed it (some context here), this scene comes from the original telling of AASOAF from a time when neither Axtapor nor Mariel had names; they were just set pieces to make the world feel more real. It was supposed to be a simple scene, not more than a few paragraphs, but it got away from me when I was writing it 😅However, Axtapor, Mariel, and canon AASOAF would probably not exist if it hadn't. Enjoy!

"L-Lord Seymour!" A small voice called out. 

All eyes came to land on the small brown-haired maid. She stood there nervously as Wilkes stopped his advance and turned to face her. He placed his hands behind his back and waited; the green and lavender lizards at his flank stopped just short of him.

"Aye, what can I do for you?"

She stood there, looking surprised that he acknowledged her at all. Perhaps she expected to be ignored. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again before approaching cautiously. Hands trembling, she curtsied deeply before Lord Seymour, dutifully rising some seconds later. He seemed amused by her subservience. 

“I-I w-wanted to r-return th-this. May I?” She stammered nervously as she produced his First Mate’s handkerchief from her dress pocket.

He didn’t respond, instead, snapped his fingers to summon his First Mate forward. The lavender lizard approached obediently, looking imposing as ever. I wish he would have slackened a bit, she was scared enough as it was. She curtsied to him as he came to a stop.

"I-I don't know your n-name, but I-I am grateful for y-your kindness." She said, offering him the handkerchief with both hands. 

He didn't seem to know how to react, so for a few seconds, all he did was look at her. I wasn’t sure if he meant the gesture to be subtle, but it wasn’t. Clear evidence of that could be seen in her reaction, a subtle downward look of her eyes to avoid his gaze. He reached out and plucked the handkerchief from her small hands delicately.

"Did ye fold it as so?" He asked.

She nodded, clasping her hands together and putting her head down as she must have been taught. "It’s Masgul linen finished with a tape hem. Master Edward has many like it. H-He prefers them folded along the bias so they don't crease.” She flinched as if mentally scolding herself, “I-I washed it, of course! W-With mild s-soap and— and no s-scent.”

He cleared his throat and deliberately shook the kerchief open. "Seem ta have mussed it up."

She raised her head nervously, eyelashes aflutter and her small hands squeezing one another to the point of bursting. After forcing them apart, she took the handkerchief from him and folded it slowly so he could follow what she was doing. I wasn’t sure why she assumed he needed a lesson, as it was clear he wasn’t watching her hands; rather, he was admiring her. It was almost sweet the way he watched her, nothing short of a boy struck with affection for the first time.

"There." She declared as she offered him the kerchief once more.

He looked down at it, then back at her, and with some hesitation, took the newly folded square of fabric. He inspected it, though I doubted he even knew what he was looking at. "Thank ye…milady."

She nodded, clasping her hands together once more. "Th-Then I shall go."

"Aye." He looked at her as if trying to press her likeness into his mind.

"First Mate be the one ta handle correspondence. If ye write, he will like see it." The green lizard teased from some feet away.

The First Mate cleared his throat and straightened, clearly feeling embarrassed, while the woman dropped into a quick, shallow curtsy and took her leave.

[writernopal]

WIP Filenames Tag

Thank you for the tag @sam-glade !

Tagging (gently): @oh-no-another-idea @lynnedwardswrites @captain-kraken @autumnalwalker and @elshells

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPS.

This tag is new to me and was such a trip down memory lane to collect these names, but I will warn you now, they aren't really story names haha. As A Stranger Or A Friend? is the first work that I ever named, everything before that was just the name/initials of the character it centered around and the years (sometimes) the story takes place in. Apologies there but these were only ever meant for the Nopal Vault of Treasures so that's why they're like that lol.

EO

Anise/Ixlar

BE

Celesta

RQ 1253

UO 1253

Aindad

Phaidra

Sithu

Spirax

Arjes

Illuuris

Oldaath

Theras

Therbirith

[writernopal]

Rippy Bits

A few little pieces I'm proud of from when we were doing Word Of the Day blurbs in a writing discord. Each one took me about 15-20 mins to write, and have nothing to do with anything, just whatever happened to be kicking around in the glorified meatball I call a brain. I hope you like some of them!

obdurate

It was enraging to watch him standing there in the pulpit, arms and hands spread wide to invoke the imagery of that blessed savior. I know what you are. I know what you do in the shadows. A sanctimonious, obdurate parasite, not spreading light nor kindness, rather a dangerous lack of righteousness through that meticulously hinged mouth...

eighty-six

“Oh, you have to come see this! I haven’t seen one of these in ages!” I called out to Lawrence. He came over and looked visibly surprised. “What the hell is that?” “It’s something called a ‘radio’. Oh man, I can’t believe we found one!” I exclaimed, marveling at the object in my hands. “A ‘radio’, huh?” He asked, still looking put off by my discovery. “Let’s try plugging it in to see if it works!” “Are you insane?! What if it explodes?!” He hissed, “Eighty-six it.” “Finders keepers!” I retorted as I clutched the device to my chest. “God almighty, why did I get stuck with you….” He sighed and went back to the garbage heap he’d been scouring before.

cavalcade

It was almost humorous to see this cavalcade of self-anointed kings entering the room and taking their seats. Each one boasted of their own ostentatious finery in an attempt to convince the occupants of this room that theirs was the most legitimate of birthrights. And their postures, painfully upright, as if to express that the onus of reigning rested as lightly on their shoulders as their exquisitely decorated capes. Each fool king, however, failed to understand that such personal gilding could be easily undone by one thing: the poorly concealed patina of envy in their eyes.

disparate

I remember the day the war ended. Everyone was so strangely hopeful and radiant, willfully overlooking the carnage and bloodshed it had taken to arrive at this day. I remember feeling torn. On the one hand, I was happy too; no longer did I have to shoulder the burden of sudden death, but on the other, I was hopeless. How long would it take us to arrive at this point again? Disparate as we were, it was not a matter of if but when such violence would erupt again. After all, what ‘country’ records sixteen independence days? A fractured one.

immaculate

I leaned forward to observe the small creature, watching as it tapped its small feet against those razor-thin beams. Each step precisely taken, each limb moved with such deliberate care, like the most tender and accurate of scribes. No, not a scribe, I thought, An artist. A master. How else could such an immaculate thing come into existence if it were not crafted by one who might don such a title? The little sculptor moved again, this time more violently, joining two of the beams with a carefully placed scaffold and seemed to sigh relief upon seeing its masterpiece completed. And I sighed too. What a way to die, surrounded by the most sublime architecture of the natural world. A web.

[writernopal]

Mariel And Axtapor's Scrapbook is now hosted on Nopal's Vault!

You have two options to view M&A's Scrapbook, either on mobile or desktop, and you also have the ability to download it to your device to view it offline at your leisure. The viewing experiences contain compressed versions of each page but still maintain legibility while the downloadable version contains the full-sized image files (v crispy!). Please be patient when downloading! These are totally free, no need to sign up or make any sort of payment to view or download.

Special shoutout once again to the incredible @illjustpretend for her help with getting this set up and of course on the project itself. Could not have done it without you my brother 💙

🌵Nopal's Vault🌵

Your eyes DO NOT deceive you! Your local pirate now has a website!

I'd been kicking around the idea of setting one up for some time and I finally decided to pull the trigger to get all things AASOAF (and future works!) in one, organized place. I'll be updating links around the old blog to reflect this change especially since M&A's Scrapbook will be moving over there pretty soon.

If you've got a spare minute, I'd love for you to check it out! Most of the stuff on there is what you've seen on this blog already but there might be one or two things you haven't yet seen 😉 totally not talking about the WIPs page

Anyway, enjoy! Or don't. Do whatever you want!