#oh there's yet another anden

[bluedestinybluebird]

how is this language even real

[mintdrop]

“Oh Mary, contrary how does your garden grow? Come with me, and you’ll be the seventh maid in a row.” My answer was laughter, soft as I lowered my head “You’re too late, I’m afraid this flower’s already dead.”

“Are you sure about this, Ys Daen?” The speckles of white that sat upon the worried fae’s cheeks dipped with her frown. “I-I’m sure there’s another way.”

“Come now, Aenc Sul. You can call me Mint just like all the others.” Avoiding her friend’s well-meaning concern was almost too easy. Her usual, cheerful demeanor was replaced with one of melancholy. “With how long we’ve known each other, I almost feel hurt.” 

She sat along the cliff’s edge of Anden’s Airs, gazing towards Timh Gyeus; even from this far away, she could see the glow of torches set up along the border between their kingdom and the mortal’s land. Their desire to defile the land of the Fae was stopped only by the momentary passing of time - even pillagers and brutes required sleep. When morning came, Mint would hope to be at the front lines, assisting the royal guard in keeping them out; ultimately, it would come down to the outcome of tonight.

She turned to face her friend, only to sigh when she realized that she could not see Aenc Sul at all. Instead, she stood up, turning her entire body to face her directly. Her right eye was completely obscured by a large red rose, similar in appearance to the roses that sprouted from her head. Petals seemed to grow from her skin, poking out at random from beneath her gown’s openings, coagulating wherever they could be free; her collar and wrists being the most concentrated. To any other, she may have looked like a monster. “I can’t fight for her majesty like this, Aenc Sul. Elletha said other methods would take weeks, if it didn’t kill me beforehand.”

Aenc Sul shrunk back, her hands fumbling over themselves as she tried to keep them still. She was Mint’s most trusted assistant, informing her of whenever someone would pass through tsasan setgel so that she could prepare; and yet now, she could barely look Mint in the face without flinching. The flowers didn’t scare her; on the contrary, they were beautiful - but to see them sprouting from her eye, to remember the screams of agony as they bloomed upon her skin -- it was hell.

She didn’t understand it fully; Mint had visited the infirmary of the castle in secret, not wanting to worry anyone who might see her. When she returned, she told Aenc Sul that she had contracted a disease that most considered a myth - the mortals called it the hanahaki disease. At first, the cause had been kept a secret, Mint only saying that it was something she had brought upon herself. She thought herself strong enough to simply shake it off; after all, she was never going to see him again. Clearly it would simply heal over time. But as the curse placed upon the humans grew worse, she was forced to see him time and time again - often fleetingly, as he went to visit the Snow Mother herself. It was only when she saw the mortal and Shuri visiting the mortal lands that she experienced the true extent of the disease.

As if their minds were linked, Mint fell into a fit of violent coughs; red petals and thorns sputtered out of her mouth, along with small trickles of blood that followed from the barbs ripping at her throat on their way out. Aenc Sul could only watch in horror as Mint recalled the memories, more flowers ripping through her skin to blossom atop it. It subsided, only when a rose larger than all the others fell from a painful heave. It sat between Mint’s hands as she gasped for air, dragging her nails along the dirt as the pain subsided. When the feelings subsided, she shakily rose to her feet, her left hand digging into her dress - the right had all but become a rose bush. From there, Mint pulled out a long vial of a pale pink liquid, holding it in front of her face as if it were a beautiful gem. 

“Aenc Sul, I can’t say I know all that’ll happen after I drink this.” She gulped, double guessing her resolve. But no, she couldn’t back down now. She needed to fight, to protect Il Mheg and Illya. “Elletha said I’ll lose my feelings for the root of the problem, and the flowers will wilt. She said I’ll also lose my memory of the day I drank it, and all the days that I’d seen them.” She swallowed again, pulling the cork of the vial loose. “Please remind me of everything. Remind me of why I have to fight. And…”

She brought the vial closer to her mouth, the smell of the liquid simultaneously filling her mind while having no discernable traits. “If I die from this, don’t tell her majesty. Tell her I’ve fled, that I’ve defected to the mortal’s lands.” In one swoop, she downed the liquid, a drop that had missed trickling down her chin as she smiled at her friend. “I would rather her hate me than feel sad.”

Aenc Sul could only nod, covering her mouth as she watched Mint seize up before crumpling to the floor; surrounded by her own petals. Soon, the flowers that twisted themselves upon her body began to turn to black, crumbling under their own weight as they fell around her body. Even the petals that hadn’t connected to anything withered away, save for the single rose that she had vomited up earlier. When Aenc Sul was sure that Mint was alive and breathing, she picked up the rose. Her face twisted in anger as she flung it with great force towards the lake below.

[clifford-telegenic]

Social Engineering

“Well, what about Ten?” Iraz asked.

“Who’s Ten?” Kera replied.

The zabrak pilot and human engineer were conversing quietly in the corner of the hangar beneath Iraz’s X-wing and the crates that always seemed to be piling up at the edge of the bay.

Iraz pointed across the brightly lit space, where a diminutive Dug was hunched over a datapad. The Dug’s camelid snout suddenly whipped up, and he barked something condescending in Huttese at a technician nearby, who flinched a bit and dropped his spanner.

Kera shook her head. “Nah. See that? It’s like they say. If he’s nice to you, but not nice to the wait staff, he’s not nice.”

Iraz clucked disapprovingly at the Dug as well. “He has a chip on his shoulder because he’s not even a meter tall is all,” she said in a motherly tone. “Wouldn’t a Corellian, too?”

“Dunno. Ask Anden,” Kera answered.

Iraz giggled. Across the hangar, far out of earshot, Ataru Leader (and Kera’s thirty centimeter shorter brother) Anden Tolan suddenly popped out of his crouch, looking around warily like he felt like he was being snuck up on, before returning to his conversation with one of his pilots.

“Okay, talking to Anden. That’s Ataru Four, Burin Anders. He’s Corellian,” Iraz added hopefully.

Kera shook her head. “Yeah, and a former swoop jockey. I might as well date my brother at that point.”

Iraz snorted, folding her arms and leaning back against the nose of her X-Wing. “So far you’ve shot down people for not having anything in common with you, and then shot down people for having things in common.”

Kera slumped. “You’re right, but I’m still not asking any swoop jockeys out. I just want a nice guy! That’s taller than me, and likes to cook. And happens to be named Windu or Kenobi.”

“Realistic,” Iraz retorted. “But if you like tall, there’s always Ubbal,” she suggested, pointing to another X-Wing in the distance. A Klatooinian reaching nearly two meters stood atop one of the craft’s S-foils, laughing loudly at something the angry Rodian woman standing on the floor beneath his craft was yelling about.

Kera’s face blanched a bit, and she glanced sideways at Iraz without speaking, then back at the Klatooinian. Iraz peered over the crates once more at Ubbal Saedryn, Ataru Two, and his porcine nose, fanged underbite, and leathery skin. “You’re wondering if it’s xenophobic to not want to ask him out because you’re not attracted to Klatooinians, aren’t you,” Iraz guessed.

Kera nodded meekly, but didn’t speak.

“You’re fine, sweetie. Moving on. What about Crash? You’ve known him longer than I have.”

Kera nodded. She’d known Crash Rayne since he was the leader of his own squadron. After its sustained losses during a highly classified incident involving the destruction of an MC-80 cruiser, his remaining pilots had been brought into the newly forming Ataru Squadron, of which Anden had managed to install himself as commander. Crash’s friendlier demeanor and relative skill had vexed Kera’s little brother until he’d finally surpassed his rival in rank, and Crash had taken to his role of second-in-command and executive officer with genuine good humor.

“Aside from the bonus side effect of causing Anden to jump into a sun, I don’t think it’d work that well. He’s a pretty stereotypical pilot, with the sabacc and drinking and daredevilry,” Kera finally said.

“That’s not all because they’re pilots, you know. It’s because they’re young,” Iraz said. “They’re not like me, at twenty-five and holding,” she said with a wink in her suddenly maternal-seeming face. “You and I might be the oldest people in the room, besides maybe--”

“You’re right!” Kera suddenly blurted, picking up on Iraz’s direction. “I’m almost thirty, I’m not a blasted teenager like these folks. He’s exactly who I need to talk to,” she quickly concluded, striding confidently into the hangar toward a middle-aged former freighter pilot.

A few minutes later, Kera returned to Iraz, who had busied herself refueling her fighter. “You could have told me,” she said.

“Oh, about Dag? Yeah, Ataru Seven’s seeing that handsome little fellow from the bridge crew, whatshisname.”

Kera doubly slumped at that. “First Officer Amanar? Yikes. He was my other good lead.”

Iraz shrugged. “Well, who’s that leave. Three, Nine and Six are women,” Iraz said, gesturing to Kalei Bespor, a Cerean female studying battle readouts projected by her astromech, and then to Neza Nunes, the Rodian woman that was still arguing with Ubbal, the Klatooinian. She started to look for Joi Nadeau, the Lannik, before she caught herself. “Sorry. Three and Nine are women,” she corrected quietly. Kera nodded solemnly. “That leaves Mebba, Ataru Eight,” Iraz said, holding a hand up to disguise her pointing across the hangar to a Weequay who was engrossed in hand-motions and onomatopoeic descriptions of some kind of spectacular explosion to an impressed Anden Tolan.

Kera winced again. “Kind of Klatooinian syndrome again,” she said guiltily.

Iraz laughed loudly for a moment before catching herself, covering her mouth and glancing about to see if anyone had noticed her. “Sorry. Just enjoying your human guilt. That just leaves my wingman Gean Noshala,” she concluded, turning around.

Kera turned with her, spying a lone pilot working diligently on an isolated X-Wing. His flight suit was on up to his waist, an undershirt clinging to a thin body beneath a clearly non-regulation, shoulder-length haircut. Ataru Eleven was wearing gloves, but the skin on his arms was copper, unblemished by scars or tattoos. He appeared to be elbow-deep in a thruster, pulling some widget free of the engine and wiping his forehead on his forearm.

Kera stared, slack-jawed. Iraz giggled silently at her and made a show of fanning herself. Gean turned around a moment later to find Kera a few centimeters behind him. She seemed to be inhaling rather strongly through her nose.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” she said a moment later. “Just the head engineer here, wondering if you need any help with anything?”

Gean smiled at her, pulling his gloves off for a moment, wiping another bead of sweat from his aquiline nose. “Oh, thanks. Just... struggling with this stubborn old girl,” he said.

Kera reached out, stroking the fuselage of his fighter in a manner entirely unbefitting a professional hangar workplace. “Yeah, sometimes they can be a little stubborn, but I guess the right fellow can... tame them.”

Gean flashed a bright smile. “Well, I haven’t heard any complaints from the girl yet once my hands are on her controls. Still... Incom ships can be so angular. I tend to prefer something with curves.”

Kera was grinning like a hungry nexu. “Is that so?”

Gean nodded. “Like the output from my homeworld. I’m from Nubia,” he said matter-of-factly. “Have you seen the old N-1 starfighters they produced for the Naboo? Delightful curves, sleek lines. Now that’s a starfighter. Not like these X-Wings. Knobby, sharp... these things are practically Corellian engineered,” he spat, tossing a fried capacitor aside.

Kera slumped atop a crate, Iraz patting her on the back and soothing her.

“Twelve pilots in here, not a single remotely suitable date candidate,” Kera concluded.

“There, there,” Iraz said. “It’s a Mon Calamari cruiser. What’s that expression they always use? Plenty of fish in the sea.”

[musicthatwelike]

Top Songs of the Week (8th Oct)

It’s been a slow sad week in new music this week for me, so our top songs of this week reflect that. They’re all pretty good though, so everyone should enjoy themselves. Sometimes it’s good just to have a wee cry you know.

Yesterday I went to Disneyland and we saw the live performance of Frozen and it made me tear up. Sometimes you just gotta let it out.

Thomston - Float (Anden Remix)

It's sad, but maybe it doesn't seem that sad because the humming synths kinda make you feel like youre floating. Don't be fooled though cause the song is about a break up, like all good sad songs are.

"Should’ve never let her go / I knew she couldn’t float on her own"

Sarah Klang - Left Me On Fire

Also sad, potentially also about a break up (highly likely about a breakup), but this time from the opposite perspective of 'Float'.

"Oh I, yeah I... dream of you when I close my eyes / I, oh I... dream of you when I close my eyes

Matt Woods - Craving

More just about being obsessed with somebody than a break up. Still sad though so it fits into this weeks theme. We all get like that. It's fine. Embrace it.

Very much reminiscent in sound of James Vincent McMorrow which is fantastic, because we haven't heard anything new from him in a while now, have we (kidding, he released an album this year but still)?

"I don't know why I hesitated, shoulda jumped in but I waited".

Grace Mitchell - Come Back For You

We feel bad because Grace Mitchel actually deserved a spot in this list a while ago but for some reason her song 'Cali God' got left out. I think I missed a few weeks. Anyway, I wanted to give her the love she deserves, so picked out on of her other newer tracks that goes along better with this weeks sad theme.

'Come Back For You' is another one of the classic sad track tropes, that some of my other favourites like 'Someone New' and 'White Lies' fall into. I can't love you right now, but I do love you but we need some time, but like one day we'll be together again.

Gives us all a bit of false hope that probably isn't healthy but it's nice to dream.

"It's not easy to see your face now / It's not easy to walk away / I'll say it a million times / I'll come back for you"

Cub Sport - Good Guys Go

I've been in Cub Sport, since I saw them live at King Cross Hotel about seven years ago. Their sound has grown and matured as have they, and their latest album is a long somber affair. I could've picked a number of tracks to feature in this weeks list, but we're going with 'Good Guys Go' cause it helps describe and extra scenario in the sad songs category we haven't covered yet + it has this amazing kind of RnB bassline that makes me hope somebody will pick this up and cover it soon.

"Where do all the good guys go / There's only one I know"

--

That's it for this week, check back for more new tracks throughout the week and next week, and don't forget to follow our 'Top Songs' playlist on Spotify which you can find here https://open.spotify.com/user/1211852476/playlist/2Wq12gii3AoMAAGiR0CFyL