#onemind

[uericho]

Jinying Hao.

[ikigairekodo]

Ikigai Rekōdo curated playlists for your listening pleasure👂🏼🪲✨ (Link in the bio) Miss you Dave 🕊 • • • #ikigairekōdo #ikigairekodo #curatorsofinspiration #archiveark #reasonforbeing #vibras #lightworkers #ikigaiichiban #onemind #ikigailibrary #newplaylist #playlist #hiphop #funk #experimental #soul #edm #ikigairekōdoplaylist #ikigairekodoplaylist #delasoul #riptrugoythedove #riptrugoy https://www.instagram.com/p/Cpn_o7arg4m/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[comiiical]

open. dorian. 40. bi. top.

context: our muses are out in the forest, camping, they know each other since they’re children, and they made a promise when they were teenagers that if they didn’t get anyone by the time they made it to this day, they’d get married to one another.

wanted fcs: brett dalton, adam demos, steve howey, chris evans, chris hemsworth. around 35-45 so the muses are the same age. 

because the plot can easily adapt to him you can also request bruno in his place.

Out in the forest, with the tent over his head and the sound of rain pouring, Dorian felt too uncomfortable. Not so much by other’s presence per se, but hte temperature that was accumulating inside to have two people, one of whom was not precisely short, within its embrace. So without giving it too many thoughts, and under the sleeping bag, he toyed with his clothes until he was bare naked, “oh, yes, that’s so much better.” Said groaning, directing his gaze to the other. “Hey, you didn’t bring me to the forest today because the promise we made is due to this date, did you?” He asked then reaching out iwht a hand to capture the other’s nose playfullly.

[junods2408]

I had a dream… Awareness-based Leadership

Do you remember about the dreams you had as a child?

Is one of them, or some of them, still vivid in your memory?

If yes, this dream is much more than “a simple dream”. It is your North star, a vision for your life, an energy rooted in the core essence of your being. Which will unfold with time and shape your life path.

Today I have decades of experience as a finance and people management executive, either in international groups, or in SME’s and startups. And all the while I was exercising this profession, with enthusiasm, dedication and satisfaction, it is actually my passion for the people and their potential that provided me with the greatest moments of joy and fulfilment.

It took me a long while to understand that the dream I had when I was ten was this energy acting: at school we had been asked to write an essay titled “What would you do, had you all freedom and means to achieve what you wish for?”. In short this is what I wrote: Each time I see, meet a person suffering I would like to be able to press a button and cure that person.

Today I am still a business woman, and also an acknowledged healer and wisdom keeper. Recognized as such by wisdom keepers of traditions originating from New Zealand, Mongolia as well as South & North America – even before a word between us was exchanged.

Awareness-based self-leadership – this is how the activity of a healer can also be described. It starts with a quiet mind: erratic thoughts are gone and one feels at peace. And then purified thoughts, originating from a “crystal mind” emerge, directly coming from the field of intelligence surrounding us all, the “one mind” – or quantum field. This same process “Quiet Mind” to “Crystal Mind” to “One Mind” is at the core of awareness-based leadership. This is what we teach at Athena InsideOut Education. It is ancient wisdom and knowledge remembered, reactivated in each of our cells: www.athena-ioe.com.

[hezekiahjudahbenisrael]

Romans 12:4 👉🏿For as we have many members in one body, and all members have not the same office:👈🏿 Romans 12:5 👉🏿So we, being many, are one body in Christ, and every one members one of another.👈🏿 Romans 12:6 👉🏿Having then gifts differing according to the grace that is given to us, whether prophecy, let us prophesy according to the proportion of faith;👈🏿 Romans 12:7 👉🏿Or ministry, let us wait on our ministering: or he that teacheth, on teaching;👈🏿 Romans 12:8 👉🏿Or he that exhorteth, on exhortation: he that giveth, let him do it with simplicity; he that ruleth, with diligence; he that sheweth mercy, with cheerfulness.👈🏿 #OneMind #OneSpirit #OneTeam #OneFight #OneNation #OneLord #OneFaith #OneGospel #OneBaptism https://www.instagram.com/p/CoaCfJ6JKin/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[elianaodeleya]

This journey is bigger than you or me but the only way we will reach our destination is together. #DOS #UNITY #OVERCOME #DIFFRENCES #ONEMIND #ONESPIRIT #ONEGOD https://www.instagram.com/p/CmiPXyPO5qk/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[majorasnightmare]

also going thru heavensward myself finally and

are ALL the gnath tempered, because of the onemind? 😰

like anyone who participates in a primal summoning is tempered. so obviously there are SOME classically tempered gnath. but did they ALL get tempered simultaneously? like the nonmind are fine yeah, but... like clearly not EVERY gnath drone has gone before ravana amd gotten tempered but in essence, wouldnt they all have gotten tempered anyways? man

[plounce]

i need to make up my own headcanons about folk dravanian beliefs. i don't think there are a lot of organized beliefs, i think it's a lot of people reacting to ishgardian oppression and struggle by trying to go the complete opposite direction while also unintentionally continuing over their established cultural ideas of what religion entails + trying to imitate the scary stories they were told (which weren't aiming to be accurate, but instead to portray the "other side" in as monstrous a light as possible) (most of the horror we get in game regarding heresy is about the ishgardian punishment + creation of heresy - levequests! witchdrop!). i think ysayle was a great organizer of different factions of heretics and actually got them coordinated with dragons (ty echo!), although she has her own cult of shiva that she led. i don't think every strain of dravo-coerthan folk belief centers around shiva. blood drinking -> transformation. how much information was shared of the true origins of the war pre-ysayle's echo vision by the dragons to the people? were any specific dragons especially keen on using elezen soldiers? how much interaction between dragons and heretics was there anyway? mind-controlled scalekin vs turned elezen. hyurs???? what role did ex-ishgardian hyurs have in the various movements? where do heretics live? what do they eat? how much did the sharlayan colony know of and interact with them? how much do heretics (get to) go up to the churning mists? there are several spots in the CCH where the boundary to the void seems thin - how much do heretics interact with voidsent? allagan voidsent v dragon war. do the eorzean dragons hate voidsent/allagans as much as their eastern/southern siblings/cousins? did they know bahamut was stuck up there? did they know tiamat kept herself stuck in azys lla? gnath onemind & their noxious anti-dragon vapes vs dragon scalekin mind control. are transformed heretics able to be mindcontrolled? what other folk heroes do heretics have? what do they think of the rest of the twelve? ysayle's cult was into hraesvelgr - are any really into nidhogg? eye symbolism? any weird beliefs about au ra coming from the heretic side? lightning as the opposite of ice? nidhogg is lightning-aspected in opposition to shiva's ice. the boy and the dragon gay? the boy and the dragon gay: a literary analysis??????

[blueboyluca]

I rigged this for weave training to see if the guides make a difference. OneMind seems to prefer teaching weaves with guides.

[kvetchlandia]

Dave Heath Poet Janine Pommy Vega, 7 Arts Coffee Gallery, New York City 1959

It is written on the walls of the mountain though I have not seen it: I Love You Fernando.

Everytime a departure, another eye not seen again, to make it easier;

But it must come from inside this knowledge that I will live       though you are not with me, here       where I can see you.

Riding this broken road away, more alone than even the beginning, when you were Gone. Suddenly, & I clung to you, sending messages direct to your heart       where we are one       & you must receive these goodmornings to the clouds this oneminded unrelenting reach to you love & you only leaned over abysses Holding onto pain : Let time not change me! hanging into death                                                     — til now I have let flow a flicker in the sea & it rushed forth giving, so great is the need in the heart for healing       Love the prominence       love the perfect measure       we, just two frail receptacles       & love the transforming splendor.

So this departure also       how can I tell you good-bye? Having loved another eye & leaving behind this also, I am most alone.

Why is it I travel this road, this stark of sky      & a musician walks to work       his hands perhaps in his pockets       music animates his step, gauging his life, & go down over snows to a train I don't care about?

Still alive, & yet to learn, or I would not be here penetrating pain itself to find you, uncover what must be true that you are not here and I must know       who is half my life & deep       as the blood runs in me.

What length of days before I lay down       & the sorrow is turned upon itself, that its depth be the source of joy and I rise, unsevered?

-- Janine Pommy Vega, Untitled, from "poems to Fernando" 1966

[shieldkeeper]

Writing Prompt: Hackneyed Word Count: 865 ---> masterlist

One mind. One drive. One goal.

Hunt. Eat. Battle. War. Expand. Conquer. Destroy.

Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight…!

Words and meaning blended into one. All within one shared conscious. One shared mindset that never deviated. No desires save for that of the true Overmind. No thought of yours was your own. A glorious echo chamber that united every single unit upon the same path. All by one name. With many appendages to be called its soldiers of no names.

Such was the colony of the Gnath. Following those self-same commands from first breath to last. Their experiences shared with the one mind to forever live on as fact, but the shell of their former selves to be left forgotten after a service. For there was not one amongst themselves with any sense of individuality—none save the Overmind who connected them all and linked them together. All one and the same.

Yet one Gnath was different amongst them. Not like the Vath with their own individuality and names. For they were still one and the same with every other entity of the Gnath. Driven and grown within the same hivemind. But they were of flesh and blood in comparison to their insectoid mates. Of a different race altogether, but was born a Gnath Warrior to battle on the frontlines and secure succulent meats. Thrown to war in droves with their brethren for territory. With no mind for themselves or their body.

An overbearing mantra that continued its melody regardless of their true form.

Fight! Kill! War! Conquer! For Glorious Combat..!

Kill Kill Kill Kill Kill Kill Kill Kill Kill Kill Kill Kill Kill Kill Kill Kill

…

Until it snapped.

When ceaseless, maddening thoughts came to a complete and utter stop. And the unnamed unit came to a sudden halt. Their mind had gone blank. That connection they had always had with them… the voice of their colony and everything that they were… gone within an instant. Letting loose a feral scream of confusion as a new world of color rushed into their eyes and overtook them. Bathing them in new thoughts… a new voice to them… But whose were they? Where had their consciousness gone?

The comfort of the Overmind was no longer present. What were these thoughts? These feelings? This rush of adrenaline and mindfulness of one’s self? 

They had become so overwhelmed that they simply collapsed upon themselves then and there. Whatever they had been doing… whatever they had been fighting… taking the charge in capturing their person and enveloping them in warm embrace.

…

…

…

When next they came to, they were surrounded. By those who looked and appeared like their brethren, but their thoughts did not intermingle with theirs. Nothing could be heard save for the clicks between themselves and voices—their voices. The Vath. That much they realized.

The unit stood there a blank slate. A husk of themselves. Empty and unfeeling.

The Vath tried to explain to them what had happened. That their link with the onemind had been severed. That they were free to live and become an individual. That they had been saved by one of their kin.

Kin?

Hazy eyes scanned the crowd until one of small stature stepped forth. They were not a Gnath or Vath. But the way they looked… the way they moved and held out their arms in welcome. The unnamed reached out their own arms and realized themselves the same of body. Where their warmth intermingled on touch… the same warmth that had enveloped them before when they collapsed.

“From this day forth, you are not another nameless number. You have been born anew with a life of your own. No longer will you follow the will of another. Not when you now have one of your own.”

So said the lalafell by the name of Garen before them.

Maddening. This feeling of madness. Where their thoughts called out for their colony, only to be met with complete and utter silence. As if they’d been lost and abandoned.

They… they had to think for themselves now…?

They could never return?

“Come with me.” Garen took their hand in his. “I know it’s a lot, but the Vath filled me in on what you must be feeling right now. I can help with that. And I can help you become the person you’re meant to be.”

Words that rang hollow in this lost soul’s mind. Of one who only ever knew to fight and nothing more. A desire that he didn’t even have at this moment… that familiar desire to fight! It was as though it had been drained into nothingness.

“Seiseito.” The lalafellin man had spoken up again. “You are one of my own kind and so you deserve to be named as one. Seiseito will be your name. Lest you opt for something different later.”

“Sei…seito…” The words sounded foreign in their own voice. Learning now that they even had a voice!  One of their own.

They… Seiseito… would follow this unknown man. Learn the ways of his new life and of his new kin. To learn the meaning to life for oneself. And not for a whole.

[uericho]

Ritu Arora.

[ikigairekodo]

New Ikigai Rekōdo playlists curated often enough to satisfy the music aficionado in all of US 👂🏼🪲✨ (Link in the bio) • • • #ikigairekōdo #ikigairekodo #curatorsofinspiration #archiveark #reasonforbeing #vibras #lightworkers #ikigaiichiban #onemind #ikigailibrary #newplaylist #playlist #hiphop #funk #experimental #soul #edm #ikigairekōdoplaylist #ikigairekodoplaylist https://www.instagram.com/p/Cpk2dYHr2BB/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[amaurotine-daydreaming]

VII. Noisome

“You like gysahl greens very much. Yes, very much. Just as the hunters told me.”

The chocobo at the Vath’s side chirped and dipped its head once more. Bracing the vegetable with one of its taloned feet, it tore off another broad leaf with its beak. The Vath stroked its soft flank as it continued observing its companion.

“They call me the Birdkeeper now,” the Vath said. “I am happy to have a name, yes, very happy. But you are strange for a bird.”

A big brown eye swiveled toward the Vath Birdkeeper quizzically, then went back to its meal. 

“You have the feathers and the wings, but you cannot fly,” the Vath Birdkeeper explained. That eye swiveled to them once more, a bit more balefully.

“Perhaps that is rude,” the Vath Birdkeeper amended, chastened. It moved its claw from the bird’s flank to its wing, smoothing down the ruffled feathers there. “You must forgive us for saying so. Indeed, please forgive us. You do not need to fly. For that we have our kongamatos.”

The chocobo relaxed, soothed by its master’s hand, and with a soft trill nudged the Vath Birdkeeper’s head with its own. The Vath Birdkeeper in turn clicked its mandibles, relieved. These birds were very understanding creatures, it had come to understand, but it had also come to recognize the guilt and sorrow it felt when upsetting them. Such feelings were alien when it was part of the Onemind.

“The hunters tell me we must choose a name for you,” the Vath Birdkeeper told its friend. “We find this difficult—very difficult. We have only just found our own name. We do not know how to name others yet.”

The current bunch of gysahl greens was now down to a nub no bigger than a large fruit. The chocobo tossed the last mouthful into the air and caught it, its gullet working as it slid down its throat. The Vath Birdkeeper patted it, impressed.

“The Vath come to these decisions because of a skill. A very special skill. The Storyteller, The Kintamer, The Deftarm.”

The chocobo chirped. The Vath Birdkeeper found these strange, flightless birds to be very good listeners.

“We hope you will like the name we give you. Since you cannot choose it yourself, we are told. But we do not know much about you yet. Only that you are a cho-co-bo. But all your kind share this name, yes?”

Another chirp. The chocobo craned its neck around and tucked its beak into its feathers, grooming. 

The Vath Birdkeeper nodded. “Such is the way of the Onemind. It is the way of the Vath to be individual, and this is what we wish for you, too.”

The red earth of the Forelands was taking on an even more fiery hue, and the shadows were growing long. As its companion went about its after-meal preening, the Vath Birdkeeper reached up and adjusted the saddle and its straps, checking that it was resting comfortably and securely. 

“Something you are skilled at…” the Vath Birdkeeper mused, next checking the straps on the simple pack and bedroll behind the saddle’s cantle. “You are very skilled at eating these greens. Indeed, very skilled.” The Birdkeeper peered around to where its companion’s head was still tucked. “Maybe we will give you the name Greenseater,” it ventured. 

The chocobo lifted its head, stretched its neck forward, and gave a short, shrill retort.

The Vath Birdkeeper winced. “I see. You do not like the name. Well, we are–” it tilted its head, hesitant, “I am–not called the Namegiver, and it seems this is for a reason.” 

It gently inspected the reins on its companion’s beak. “But you and I will come to an amicable solution, yes? An amicable solution.”

The chocobo bobbed its head. As the Vath Birdkeeper stood there, lost in the dilemma of a suitable name, its companion scratched its talons against the earth restlessly and prodded at the dirt.

“You are also very good at finding things in the soil. Perhaps… Earthdigger.”

The chocobo eyed them.

The Vath Birdkeeper’s shoulders slumped and its head bowed. “We will think on it further while we are on the road. Come.”

The chocobo obligingly knelt, and up into the saddle the Vath Birdkeeper swung. Its feet still scrabbled a bit at the stirrups, but it was careful not to accidentally scratch its friend, as it had done the first time the kind hunters at Tailfeather had tried to show them how to ride. 

“You know the gysahl green, but do you know about the others?” the Vath Birdkeeper asked, as they left the shelter of the forest for the open expanse of the Wastes. It nudged the chocobo’s flank and gently tugged on the reins, directing attention to a cluster of sprigs poking out of the ground a few paces away. Though the Wastes were very dry, the long leaves shone as if they were wet with rain.

“This one is called silver dew. The dragons find it noisome, yes, very noisome. We light our censers to keep them away.” The Vath Birdkeeper looked to the open sky, clicking its mandibles. “We appear to dragons a tasty snack. A tasty, savory snack. Crunchy on the outside, gooey on the inside. We find this thought distressing, so very distressing.” 

The chocobo shifted its gait, sensing its rider’s unease. A boon of these birds was how well they came to understand both words and nonverbal gestures, but the Vath Birdkeeper had to remind itself now to still its nervous clicking. Being able to understand a Vath’s feelings, the Birdkeeper thought, was not always helpful for either of them. 

“We will protect you from the dragons with this noisome silver dew,” it said, patting its companion’s neck. “They will not take you for a snack if you smell of it.”

Its companion whistled happily, and although the bird’s strides lengthened as they traveled, the pace remained leisurely. Similarly more at ease, not least of which because of a sky unclouded by any Dravanians looking for a meal, the Vath Birdkeeper took in its surrounds with a more inquisitive eye. 

It had always known these lands, but the idea of stopping and looking at this place for its beauty–or for anything that wasn’t food or a threat to the Onemind–remained new, even moons on. Every day, it found new things to simply look at, and marvel. It was glad its boon companion also had an appetite for the sights of the world, for even short journeys tended to become twice as long with the Vath Birdkeeper in the saddle.

The sun was only halfway behind the mountains, its light slanting long, and so the Birdkeeper consoled itself that the Vath of the guild could at least not scold them for arriving home from their journey after dark again.

The setting sun’s orange hues reflected off of the Vath’s carapace, but its companion seemed to simply absorb the color, lending its feathers a fiery glow.

“Sunkeeper?” the Vath Birdkeeper asked, surprised by the serendipity of inspiration. “Your feathers shine like the sun, they are so very golden and beautiful. Like you have captured the rays in your coat.

“If you do not mind sharing part of a name,” it added. “The hunters share names sometimes. They have a special word for it. We think it is ser-names. They put them in the front on some occasions, as with ‘Ser Jantellot.’ It is clearly respectful, yes, very respectful. But we have noticed that the ones who share names placed at the end are very close, like family.”

The Birdkeeper’s companion did something unusual then: it wiggled, its feathers puffed out not with displeasure or anxiety but with pride.

“Kweh!” it trilled.

“Sunkeeper,” the Vath Birdkeeper nodded, satisfied that its companion was satisfied. “Your name will be Sunkeeper.”

[raisengen]

One thing about the aftermath of Dorothy’s Vision:

The final boss, the superweapon, the reality-warping onemind is shut down by Dorothy. The control hub is destroyed, along with all the supporting technology to manage and produce the Transmitter. Without Dorothy’s cooperation, we can assume relaunching the project would be a tough task.

But the Transmitter itself? That already exists. It’s been used in field tests, it’s in the wild. Even if production has stopped, site 359 had lakes worth of the stuff.  Site 359 is a lake of the stuff. And the lake’s being cleaned up by the Columbian government alongside Rhine Labs.

The Transmitter is a revolution in casting technology. With this one conduit, the average Terran becomes a great Caster, and a great Caster becomes an exceptional one. Dorothy used it on herself, and we saw that it was a great improvement over both conventional Arts Units and the innate casting of the Infected.

Right now it’s all in the hands of the Columbian government. What will they do with it? It seems too much to hope it will all go into a vault, Indiana Jones-style, and be forgotten. Terra might be seeing a new form of super-caster on the battlefield soon. All that under-the-radar Columbian research finally pays off.

Will it all remain in the hands of the Columbian government? Maybe a barrel or two will fall off the back of a truck, maybe someone counts one too many crates while loading up transport. A very conservative estimate says a single barrel could contain 10,000 doses; given the size of “Awaken”, I could easily believe there was enough Transmitter at that site to inject the entire population of Terra.

Even a tiny fraction going missing represents potential mass proliferation. And unlike the superweapon of “Awaken”, using Transmitter as an Arts multiplier needs only one tiny injection to set a Caster up for a while. Perhaps for life. No control hub, no power supply, no infrastructure, no ammunition, no fuel.

Undetectable, undisarmable, untraceable. High-powered, and anyone who’s been trained in Arts knows how to use it. It’s the perfect gift for any insurgent, revolutionary, secret agent, gangster, guerilla, plotter, special operative, bandit, or outcast.

Eh, I’m sure it’ll be fine.

[ghostlyshoes]

FFXIV WRITE - #4 Reticent

Reticent 

[Vath Halfmoon - Vath Red Mage]

The name, their very first name, had not been decided by them. In fact, it was something more of an insult. As luminous and beautiful the Vath thought the image of a half moon, hanging in the blackness was (they had only seen the night a few times) their nonmind friends had thrust it upon them to mean “mood-swinger” and “lunatic”.  A connection to their more mutable nature (to put it nicely.) 

Whatever. They couldn’t be nameless forever. The longer you’d stay the nameless one, the more distant you’d grow from all the people. You’d lose a bit of yourself, and you’d risk going back to the onemind, and Halfmoon would much prefer being considered ‘moody’ than returning to being a cog in the overmind. Halfmoon wouldn’t even know what to pick for themselves anyway; there was so much glory and wonder in really, truly awakening into the world for the first time, it was all still so overwhelming to the new Vath. 

Where would they even start with who they wanted to be? The grass was ever so fine and delicate. The winds blowing and hefty. The lighting which brewed in the clouds shared both warmth and danger. The fires that burnt bright in the distance, and burned within the sun. There were so many things, too many things to be. They would have been stuck thinking forever (or until they got sucked back into the onemind) had the fellow nominds not swayed their suggestions, then Halfmoon would truly not have anything to call themselves.

-

They grew into this, into this Halfmoon of a Vath. And they supposed that this sense of temprementality was their purpose. They were the tumultuous one of the Loth Ast Vath. 

 If only I had been more reticent. If only for a day or two. They might have let me grow into someone else. 

It had been a full moon of Halfmoon’s own freedom from the nomind when the most unusual of hunters showed up to the guild. No denizen of the frozen lands of Ishgard, nor a rugged citizen of a place like Tailfeather in Dravania. He wore an entire suit of red, including a pleasantly feathered red hat, with a coat that reached down onto the floor. Unusual garbs for fighting. Even those hunters that chose to adorn themselves chose to outfit themselves had picked something sleek and robust, this looked to be much more style over substance. Not that Halfmoon’s own sense of style had really developed all that much yet. He carried but one weapon, a flimsy looking steel rapier. 

He had come to the guild of Loth Ast Vath planinly seeking adventure with little further discussion. 

“Well we have herbs to gather and bugs to drive away from our greens,” one of the guild masters spoke out. 

The red-ladend man shook his head. Unimpressed. Thinking the little rapier was too good for anything in their tiny put-together town. 

“Excuse me,” Vath Halfmoon spoke up, shaky, “You really think you’re better than us, with that?” 

Vath Halfmoon poked the little weapon, causing it to fall and clink against a jewel that had also been hanging onto the hunter’s belt, also expectedly red. 

“This?” he twisted his head, his ears beneath the hat (must have been a Miqo’te), “Well, I can show you if you like.” 

Instead of simply picking up his prized weapon and showing it off for himself, the hunter tossed the set to Halfmoon instead, who clicked in surprise. 

“Try it, Vath, the red stone fits atop the blade, then call to the black and white aether of all around you.”

White like the gales, black like the storms? It seemed as if all of Loth Ast Vath has come to stare at Halfmoon. As if the idea they were doing something useful for once (or foolish) was worthy of a prying audience. Green as the grass? Red as the suns? 

So focus Vath Halfmoon did. They focused on the wonders of the world they had encounters. Their own decision on what to be, who to be, and who they could be. Aether clashed inside their mind. White and Black to make red. Astral and Umbral to make something new. To make someone new. 

And…

“Oh gods,” the guild leader clicked in rapid motion, “the fire, the guild the, the woods, Halfmoon what have you done!!” 

Everyone scattered. Clicking in panick and rampage. The kind-hearted hunter nodded, and then fled the scene, least he be caught up in the blaze partly of his own making. 

On the inside, Vath Halfmoon smiled but shared it with no soul. 

(This one ends a little short cause the deadline was close. I hope the ending still works well!)