#original setting: rockfall

[aggravateddurian]

WIP Whenever

Good evening,

I was tagged by @ouroboros-hideout to provide a report on recent occurrences.

Over the past week, I have been extremely focused on two things. I regret to inform you that they were not related to Cyberpunk 2077.

What I've Done

Firstly, I've been playing a lot of a game called 'Boat Crew', which is a game where you are the captain of a US Navy PT Boat during WW2. It's cartoony, but I am now absolutely horrified of Fubuki-class destroyers. I see them in my sleep.

Secondly, I've been writing a lot of original stuff, including an outline for a story called 'After Rockfall' about the state of the world after an asteroid fragments as it passes our Earth's Roche Limit and over the next three years, showers Earth with asteroid fragments.

I am continuing to chip away at finishing my story bible for 'Queen of the Sky' and I've been in communication with two artists, who are drawing the main characters, starting with the Chancellor.

Blorbos

For my Val x Trey AU, I've created an appearance and primary outfit for 2074 Val. You may recognise her hairdo from the old Brother's Shadow continuity, where she wore the same hairdo while working for the Mox in that story. It's one of Songbird's hairdos, converted for player use by eagull.

(DO NOT QUESTION THE BIOCHIP, there are no shard props available in AMM except for the Relic chip).

From Here

This week, starting Wednesday, I will be returning to regular posting.

I have been enduring some stuff and dealing with some health issues. I'm hoping to hear some answers soon.

Thanks everyone.

I'd like to nominate @byberbunk2069 @streetkid-named-desire @theviridianbunny and @disastroussketchbook

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: cave fish

Prepare for a deep dive today. Not because I'm going to be more in-depth than usual, but because we're talking about caves. Which are deep. In the ground.... Yeah, you get it. Today is going to be a bit different from my normal WBW posts. Instead of going in depth on a particular species or group of related species I'm going to discuss common adaptations fish evolve to live permanently in caves and then go over a few species I find interesting. Let's get spelunking.

(Image: Typhleotris madagascariensis, a typical cave fish. It is a small fish with an entirely white body and smooth skin where the eyes would be on a normal fish. It is resting on rocky sediment. End ID)

Caves are not an easy place to live. There's no light, limited food, often low oxygen levels, and the threat of collapse or rockfall. Cave-swelling animals (collectively called troglofauna) need a number of special adaptations to survive and there is little room for error. Troglofauna that are strictly aquatic are called stygofauna. Troglofauna and stygofauna can be divided into three groups based on their life history. Troglophiles and stygophiles complete part of their life cycle in caves and part outside of them. A classic example of this is the many species of bat who seasonally inhabit caves to give birth and mate. Trogloxenes and stygoxenes are animals who will visit caves, but do not require time in caves to complete their life cycle. An example trogloxene would be a bear who takes shelter in a cave during winter. Finally, troglobites and stygobites live their entire lives in caves and never leave. The fish I discuss today are stygobites. Because troglobites and stygobites generally will die outside of their caves, they have very little opportunity to disperse. As such, many cave fish species are found only in a single cave or cave system and are entirely dependent on the health of their homes to survive.

(Image: two cave catfish sitting next to each other on a rock. They are white with elongated anal and rear dorsal fins, and no eyes. End ID)

Many cave-dwelling animals develop a set of common adaptations called troglomorphism. Cave water is often high in minerals but low in oxygen and food content. To survive, the fauna develop very slow metabolisms, allowing them to last a long time on limited resources while slowing down movement and other active systems and increasing age. These species are also typically smaller than their epigean (above-ground) relatives, further reducing their energy requirements. Slowed metabolism results in comparatively slow development. Cave species take much longer to mature and reproduce then related epigean species. Many species further decrease their energy consumption by moving as little as possible. Many species of cave fish are able to last long periods of time between meals without negative impacts to their health. They will binge eat whatever they can find and then subsist on fat stores while food is scarce. One test in captivity showed that a Phreatobius cisternarum (cave catfish) could go a while year between meals and stay healthy. Cave species are usually opportunistic generalists as they can't afford to pass up resources. Much of their food will originate outside of the cave, either directly or indirectly. Water flow into caves brings in algae, bacteria, plankton, and other food sources. Other more indirect methods of introducing include bat feces. While the fish may not eat the feces directly, other species may do so and potentially become prey to the cave fish. The feces also introduces nutrients from outside the cave that encourages the growth of other food sources like bacteria, fungi, and planktonic animals.

(Image: Amblyopsis hoosieri, the hoosier cave fish. It is a very simplistic fish with no eyes or scales. End ID)

Life in a cave comes with a different sensory requirement. The complete lack of light makes vision useless. You don't know dark until you've seen cave dark. Fun fact: caves are so dark that sighted people can start hallucinating in them because our brains aren't evolved to handle zero visual stimulus and will start making stuff up to fill that gap. As a result of the utter darkness, many species of cave fish are blind. They either evolve to completely lose their eyes or have the eyes considerably reduced in size and function. Eyes take up a lot of energy to maintain and in caves, there is a lot of selective pressure to get rid of organs that aren't useful there. Despite the blindness, many species retain some form of photosensitivity and will flee from light. Cave species also often lack skin pigmentation. Skin pigment has two primary uses. It protects the skin from ultraviolet light in sunlight, and provides skin coloration that can be used for camouflage, displays, warnings, and so on. In an environment where there is no ultraviolet light and everyone is blind, skin pigment serves no real purpose and is lost. As a result, most cave species are white or translucent. The lack of pigment may be a reason so many species remain photosensitive. Without pigment, they would be highly susceptible to sunburn or skin cancer from ultraviolet light. Caves also have a sound dampening effect that makes hearing less valuable. Reduced eyes and pigmentation is also seen in deep sea fish that live too deep for light to reach. Even those species still use visual curs more than cave fish due to the abundance of bioluminescence in the deep ocean.

(Image: Sinocyclocheilus longicornus, a recently discovered species. It is a fish with translucent skin, revealing the skeleton. It has a long shout with two pairs of barbels. Emerging from the upper back is a horn-like protrusion. End ID)

With vision off the table, cave fish rely on other senses. chemoreception through taste and smell are strongly selected for as traits that can direct cave animals toward food or away from threats. Another sensory system fish have is the lateral line. The Lateral line is an organ system found on each side of a fish where modified skin cells called hair cells detect motion in the water. The lateral line allows fish to sense movement in the water around them, informing them of water flow and the movement of food and threats. Cave fish typically have a well-developed lateral line system that compensates for the lack of vision. Many fish perform displays for various reasons, such as attracting mates. These displays are typically visual, but in cave fish, that isn't an option. Instead, their displays are more focused on moving the water in ways that can be detected by lateral lines. Some species of cave fish maintain additional sensory abilities from their epigean ancestors. An example of this are cave catfish, who retain the barbels and electroreception common to their kind.

(Image: six Phreatichthys andruzzii. They are long, eyeless, white fish. The blood-filled gills are visible through its translucent skin, seen as a large red patch on the head. End ID)

Before moving on to specific species, it should be noted that cave fish is not a taxonomic category. Cave fish come from many different lines of descent and independently evolved similar adaptations to cave conditions. These similar adaptations are seen in most cave fauna, not just fish, and are collectively called troglomorphism. There are about 300 species of cavefish known to science.

Ophisternon candidum, or the blind cave eel, lives in north Australian caves that are connected to the ocean. Because these caves intake salt water, the pools and streams within them can become very salty, resulting in the eels developing a tolerance to a high range of salinity. They are rare, having been spotted under 40 times since 1959, and thus little is known of their lifestyle. We do know they burrow into sediment and secrete mucus to keep those burrows stable. Males seem to build burrows to woo females. They have been bred in captivity for use un laboratories. At up to 40 cm long, they are huge for cave fish and used to hold the record for the largest species known until another species was found that's even bigger.

(Image: an eel with translucent, pink skin, no eyes, and ribs visible through the skin. It looks somewhat like an earthworm. End ID)

The actual largest known cave fish is Neolissochilus pnar, which gets up to 40 cm while being more massive than the eel. They are found in a single cave system 100 meters underground in India. The primary food source in the cave appears to be debris from the nearby forest that is washed into the cave during seasonal flooding. The fish may have been known to locals well before it was scientifically described, as there are stories of white cave fish going back over a century in the region.

(Image: a small fish with no eyes, white skin, and a long snout with barbels on it)

The Alabama cave fish (Speoplatyrhinus poulsoni) may be the rarest species of freshwater fish in the world. They live exclusively in key cave, Alabama, USA and no more than 10 have ever been seen at a time. The population is estimated to be under 100, below the generally accepted minimum viable population for a species of 200. Fittingly enough, this means a species only found in Alabama may be severely inbred. They are believed to be triggered to mate by seasonal flooding and may be mouth brooders. Climate change-caused changes to flooding and toxins leaking into the groundwater from sewers are currently threatening them with extinction.

(Image: a long, white, eyeless fish with an elongated snout. Its skeleton is visible through its skin. End ID)

Typhliasina pearsei, the Mexican blind brotula or dama blanca ciega (blind white lady), lives in the cenotes of the Yucatán peninsula. Cenotes are sinkholes filled with groundwater and the ones in the Yucatán are often connected by underground caves, rivers, and aquifers. The fish are apex predators who eat shrimp and mysids and are known to coexist with other cave fish in part of their range. As with other brotulas, they are a rare example of a bony fish that gives live birth. Because of how interconnected and numerous the cenotes are, this species has one of the largest distributions of all cave fish.

(Image: an eyeless white fish with a long tail and elongated rear dorsal and anal fins. It is next to an orange rock. End ID)

Cryptotora thamicola, the cave angel fish or waterfall climbing cave fish, is the adrenaline junkie of the cave fish world. Most cave fish live in slow-moving or still water, but this daredevil lives in rapids. But just living in rapids isn't extreme enough, these guys climb waterfalls. Their large fins with hooked fin rays let them cling onto the rocks while facing into the current. They then allow food to flow right into their mouths. Unlike other walking fish, the waterfall climbers have a well-developed pelvic girdle and walk in a style very similar to tetrapods, with front and back fins alternating strides. This has made them very interesting to evolutionary biologists studying the transition from fish to tetrapods.

(Image: a typical cave fish with very large pectoral and pelvic fins. End ID)

The Mexican tetra (Astyanax mexicanus) is an example of a handful of fish species that have a cave form and a non-cave form. Most Mexican tetras are perfectly ordinary tetras, but one population has adapted to cave living and has developed trogomorphic traits. The cave from lack pigment, has tastebuds on its head, lacks eyes, and can store more body fat. While you would expect such radical physiological differences to mean the two populations are different species, they aren't. The two populations are fully capable of producing fertile offspring and do so in the wild. If you've ever seen a cave fish in person, there's a good chance it was one of these as the cave form has entered the pet trade and they do very well in captivity, making them the most studied cave fish.

(Image: the non-cave and cave forms of the Mexican tetra seen next to each other for comparison. The non-cave form is a fairly typical silvery-green fish. The cave form is slightly more robust, white, and eyeless. End ID)

Because most cave fish are found only in a singe cave or cave system, they are fully dependent on the health of that cave. Caves tend to be very stable environments, which results in the inhabitants being pretty bad at adapting to change. Changes in water flow, introduction of new species, and pollutants can seriously harm or wipe out whole species. Many species of cave fish are rated as endangered or critically endangered based on their low populations and vulnerability to change.

[jokertrap-ran]

[Kuroshitsuji Collab] 6★ William T. Spears (SUN) Translation Chapter 7: Complying with Work Regulations

“Surprised by his sudden appearance...”

CV: 杉山 紀彰 (Sugiyama Noriaki)

*Yume100 Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Name will remain as my normal ( ラン ) *Images will be added later!

Sun Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Final Chapter /

Secret Story

Normal /

Moon + SS

William: Looks like I can’t get off work on time yet again, given the current state of things.

━━━━━━━∘◦ ✰ ◦∘━━━━━━━

I was nearly trapped inside when the mine, where the incident occurred, caved in. However, William stepped in to help me from this close call... Worker: Hey, you okay? Bring the injured fella here! The worker brought the man who had injured his leg to the first-aid station that had been set up. I remained motionless, rooted to my spot, only staring up at him as he adjusted his glasses.

(What is William doing here…?)

━━━━━━━∘◦ ✰ ◦∘━━━━━━━

William: It is against the rules to interfere with life-and-death issues in the human realm as a Reaper-

━━━━━━━∘◦ ✰ ◦∘━━━━━━━

As I recall his past words, spoken with such indifference…

William came closer to me as I stood there, dumbstruck. He then brought his face closer, his yellow-green eyes glinting sharply behind his glasses.

William: You’re neglecting your duties. Ran: Huh? William: Listen here. We’re trying to find leads on how I can return to my original world. Therefore, it’s troubling when you go off wasting time by sticking your nose into things where it doesn’t belong. William: Efficiency, accuracy, speed. Those conditions are what make the attitude I expect of you, seeing as how I have enlisted your help.

William: Honestly… You said you were going to make up for the lost time this morning; is this how you intend to go about doing it?

Under the constant needling of his words, I opened my mouth ever so slightly to form a reply.

Ran: Why did you… help me? William: Help?

He fixes me with a look and lets out a small sigh.

William: I outsourced your help to maximize work efficiency and destroyed the rockfall that was in our way. Do you find something unsatisfactory? Ran: N-No…

I flinched under his sharp gaze, nodding.

(He did save me, regardless of the reason…)

Just the fact that he saved me alone was enough to make a small warmth blossom within my chest.

Ran: Thank you, William-san.

I smiled at him, half in relief, half in joy.

William: What are you smiling about? Ran: You saved me, so I’ll still be able to continue helping you from now on.

William raised a brow and pushed his glasses up.

William: I will have to reconsider the enlistment of your help if you do end up causing more trouble.

Ran: U-Understood… William: Well, you’re still leaps and bounds better than that crappy good-for-nothing Dispatch Officer who’s probably using this time to play around. Ran: What? William: Nothing.

That tone of his wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy… But it wasn’t enough to damper the flicker of joy in my heart…

To be continued…

[mugsofrainwater]

some vaguely incoherent thoughts on rings of power season 1 below (spoilers) 

okay so I LOVE the original lotr (was a super obsessed 10 year old when the first film came out) and I genuinely enjoyed this show. I have a few gripes, and I understand some of the discourse, understand the criticisms, but i had an overall good time watching it and i think if you don’t take it too seriously it can be fun so 

- honestly the story plot involving the harfoots and the stranger was by far my favourite and i would probably defend nori and poppy with my own life if necessary. I just love the harfoots so much. I’m so fond of their wandering carts and their cart-related sayings and all of the ever changing twigs and brambles and acorns strewn in their hair !! 

- although the whole ‘if you stray during a wandering or just plain cant keep up with your cart, we’re going to carry on anyway and leave you to fall behind but don’t worry we’ll remember you’ was absolutely savage wow. 

- I think it’s about 99% confirmed that the stranger is Gandalf at this point? which honestly makes my heart so happy if its true!! To think he was so fond of hobbits because a group of hobbit ancestors found him in his vulnerable amnesiac post-sent-to-earth state and showed him friendship and kindness and hospitality and even defended him against darker beings so much more powerful than themselves who would have taken him and twisted him into something harmful!! I don’t care if it doesn’t fit into the original lore just let me have this. 

- i tried so hard to care about bronwyn and theo and Arondir but i just didn’t. Theo mostly just annoyed me. Maybe I’ll grow to care more about them in season 2. also as much as I love the concept of girlpower and girls being in charge as much as anyone, i didn’t really think it made sense for the villagers to automatically look to bronwyn for leadership as much as they did? 

- although that said, i was super intrigued by the surrounding storyline with the orcs building tunnels under their village. absolutely did not see the eventual flooding of the tunnels coming at all and even though it was terrible for all the good characters it was such a borderline satisfying SO THAT WAS WHAT THEY WERE UP TO ALL ALONG OMG moment 

- just accept that the elves with short hair are going through their rebellious youth fashion phase and it makes it all so much better

- the concept of the dwarves singing to the mountain and the very rocks of its foundations to release dwarves who had been trapped by a mining rockfall ?? absolutely beautiful ?? and Disa doing the singing ??? INSPIRED. I mean I’m still sad we didnt get any bearded lady dwarves but I’ll take what i can get. 

- was super convinced that Halbrand was going to turn out to be one of the nazgul kings and i think that blinded me to the eventual Sauron reveal. 

- still struggling to wrap my head around Sauron / Halbrand’s master plan during this series though because ?? like most of where he ended up was accidental? I can’t quite piece together how much was plotting and planning on his end and how much was sheer dumb luck.  like how did he even know the elves were making rings at Eregion before he got there?? did galadriel let something slip that I can’t remember ??

- ngl i would totally read some galadriel x sauron nc-17 rated fic. 

- overall the music didn’t quite hit me like the original lotr trilogy (although maybe it will if i listen to it some more) but Poppy’s Wandering Song made me feel so many things 

- sad that we didn’t get assumed-dead isildur being rescued by his horse in this season, like aragorn was in two towers, but it’s gotta be coming in season 2 right? 

- all of the sets and costumes were absolutely STUNNING. it was cool to see Numenor in all its glory especially 

- also are we eventually going to get baby Arwen maybe?? I have no idea how old she’s supposed to be in lotr / when she would have been born, but it can’t be far off and i’m fairly certain Elrond hasn’t mentioned having a daughter yet 

- still super conflicted about having to watch this on amazon prime and tie my soul to amazon for as long as they keep making this and carry on giving jeff bezos money but this is the world we live in and so here we are

[dsandrvk]

Sunday, March 10 - Santa Helena

Once again, our expectations were exceeded. We were originally supposed to have a single full day on Saint Helena, but had good seas and our captain was able to get us to Saint Helena well ahead of schedule, so we had an additional afternoon here. It was good, too, since there is plenty to do here.

But first we had a good morning with a couple of talks and a great lobster tail BBQ with lobsters from Tristan da Cunha. Our executive chef loves to make risotto so he made a lobster risotto, also, cooking it on the back deck. I can see why the lobster from Tristan is world famous - it's delicious and the perfect size for serving.

We saw Saint Helena on the horizon at around 2, and by 3:30 we had been cleared by the locals and were able to take Zodiacs to shore. There is really no good landing spot, but there is a little spot at the end of the pier that is used by the small boat shuttle (to and from the fishing boats), and we disembarked there in a pretty good swell.

The long waterfront work area leads to the main town , which is behind an old defensive wall. Along the way was the "Yacht Club", several marine buildings and the well-kept-up Customs Building. There was also a very new and beautiful outdoor pool complex, and a lot of locals enjoying it on the weekend.

Saint Helena is of course most famous for being the final "prison" for Napoleon, who was exiled here from 1815 until his death in 1821. He was originally buried here, but his remains were moved to France nineteen years after his death. Tomorrow we will get a chance to visit both his residence and empty tomb, so I will go into more about Napoleon's time here then.

Today, however, was just a brief introduction to a small part of Jamestown (the capital) and the surrounding area. Jamestown is set in a very narrow valley with steep volcanic cliffs on both sides. On the north are several old roads, now hiking paths, and a lot of wire meshing covering much of the cliffside to prevent rockfalls. On the south, however, there is a road cut into the cliff and something called "Jacob's Ladder", which is the remnant of a funicular, although we have heard various explanations for how it was actually used. In 2022, the steps were restored, and now it is an attraction - 699 steps to the top. Since the vertical distance is almost 600 feet, these are fairly high steps. We are planning to do it tomorrow when we have a bit more time.

We had been told to look for the Castle Gardens around 4:30, as there was a surprise in store. One of our entertainers was set up in the park setting, along with our beverage staff and a lot of champagne. It was a lovely setting, and we talked at length with our photographer, who will also be on our next trip. After the refreshments, we decided to walk up one of the trails on the north side of the valley and eventually came to an overlook of the next cove, where a commercial dock is being built for the tuna fishermen and processing. There were lots of Red-billed Tropicbirds flying around as well as Fairy Terns - an all-white species.

Saint Helena is completely different from Tristan. While Tristan seemed like a little chunk of rural north England or southern Scotland, Saint Helena has more of the feel of a Caribbean island. There is a lot of colonial architecture, the air is warm and humid , and the population here is very diverse. There were European settlers, but also freed slaves, Chinese workers, and other adventurers and that has resulted in an interesting mix. Everyone we met was extremely friendly, waving from cars, or greeting us - they are trying to establish themselves a bit more on the tourism path, but are not yet overly jaded by the arrival of visitors. They had built an airport in the hope of getting commercial flights, but it wasn't designed properly, and is only available to smaller aircraft. They are getting a few cruise ships, but I honestly don't know how a larger ship would be able to get many folks on land.

The last Zodiac back was to be at 7PM, so we had to leave just before sunset and in fact saw it from the Zodiac on the way back to the ship. Night comes quickly here near the equator, and it was totally dark 15 minutes later.

Most of the pictures are self-explanatory. The white building is the Customs House, and the little yellow and white boat shuttles fishermen from their moored boats to the dock. We shared our dock with them, and they had come back with some lovely looking tuna. The gate in the wall is on the town side - the bird highlighted is the Wirebird, the only remaining endemic land bird on the island. There are only about 500 remaining, so our chance of seeing one is pretty slim. All the other land birds are introduced, including Indian Mynas, which are everywhere.

Tomorrow we have a tour around the island in the morning and then hope to explore more of the town and climb Jacob's Ladder in the afternoon. Weather prediction is good - around 78 degrees with no rain forecast.

[beauregardlionett]

the world is ending so kiss me slowly

AO3 Link

The days at sea had been seemingly endless. Heavy layers of ice fog consistently impeded their journey, and Beau had grown weary of the monotony. Lucky enough, however, the voyage hadn’t persisted for too long. The icebreaker was rather scuffed up from their earlier encounters on the icy seas, but they plugged along as steady as could be. Despite those encounters, they made it to land with relatively good timing.

Their stay in the port city hadn’t lasted more than a day, moving on with rapid intent in their search for Eiselcross. But they leapt from one monotony to the next, trekking through the endless, snowy landscapes of the north. The winds were bracing, the snow beyond freezing, and nights were worse. Beau could feel the temperature actively chapping her lips and the skin of her knuckles, but she tucked into her warm clothes as much as possible and pushed onward.

So, by the time they stumbled upon a cave system that cropped up seemingly from nowhere, of course they were going to jump at the chance to explore.

Beau was surprised that Vess had agreed to let them sidetrack like this. But when Beau thought about it, Vess’ job was to explore and cultivate. So perhaps she thought the cave system might yield something of interest.

However, the cave only yielded a reprieve from the wind and snow. It was remarkably dull, the rough-hewn walls lacking anything but basic rock and sediment. But they continued on for a little while longer, if only to stay out of the wind, until they came to a three-way split. And while they all knew it was a bad idea, they agreed to divide and conquer to satiate their curiosity.

“Five minutes in each direction,” Fjord instructed firmly. “If you don’t find anything promising, turn around and come back. The last thing we need is to get lost down here.”

The others nodded as Beau flashed her friend a lazy salute. She lingered to watch Fjord, Caduceus, and Veth head down one path, and Caleb, Vess, and Jester down the other. Turning to Yasha, she fought down the butterflies in her stomach and gestured to the remaining tunnel before them.

“Shall we?”

Yasha seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then she turned to lead them down the tunnel. Their steps echoed with dull reverberation in the narrow space, and the cave continued to yield nothing.

Three minutes into their winding way down the tunnel with a semi-awkward silence lingering between them, something snarled in the shadows. Beau’s footsteps halted immediately, eyes sweeping for a source. In her peripheral, Yasha’s hand moved instantly to the hilt of her sword.

With her goggles on, Beau stared into the grey darkness and scanned for the source of the sound. With slow intent, she shifted her right foot back, widening her stance in preparation. This was far from the ideal place to be fighting, and her pulse picked up with nervous anticipation.

Suddenly, in a blur of darkness and movement, a creature lunged from the shadows and swiped massive claws at Beau. She pulled back, quick enough to dodge a lethal blow, but still caught the wide arc of the strike. Claws that were as cold as the ice they had left outside cut through the skin of her side. Beau cried out with a pained, “fuck!” as she lashed out on instinct.

Her first wild punch missed entirely. Somehow, through the haze of painful cold that was now creeping through her veins like poison, she landed her second strike on its hide. She knew the instant her knuckles connected with its fur that she had barely hurt the thing. Beau stumbled back, just missing another blow from its claws. Clutching an arm around her midsection, Beau tried to steady herself by leaning against the tunnel wall. As she attempted to focus through the pulsing chill that spread with every rapid thud of her heart, Beau turned to look for Yasha.

The barbarian slipped past Beau, approaching the creature with her sword drawn and a cry of rage echoing in the tunnel. There was that familiar fire in her multi-colored eyes, and Beau instinctively relaxed. Something about having Yasha beside her in battle that made Beau feel like everything would be okay.

Yasha, veins bulging in her forehead with her rage, somehow maneuvered her greatsword in the narrow space and cut deep into the creature’s side. It yelped with pain a second before Yasha whirled and slammed the flat of her blade against its side. The beast went flying into the side of the cavern wall, colliding with a rough crack and pained yelp.

The tunnel shook, and the creature, heavily wounded and dazed, snarled in their direction before turning and fleeing further into the cave system. Beau was still leaning against the wall, tremors running through the rock beneath her skin. Panic seeped into her expression as she locked eyes with Yasha.

“Yash-” she called out, before the sound of falling rock rumbled above her and cut her off. On instinct, Beau moved away from the wall at the same moment Yasha reached out for the monk. The Aasimar’s fingers curled around Beau’s forearm, tugging her away from the danger. Yasha whirled, pressing Beau in close and hunching over the monk, shielding her entirely from the falling rocks that cascaded from the ceiling.

Beau ducked her head against Yasha’s shoulder and curled chilled fingers into the warm fabric of the Aasimar’s coat.

When the rumbling and crashing finally ceased, Beau still stood tense and shuddering in Yasha’s hold.

“Beau?” Yasha’s voice cracked above her, the woman’s hand shifting to slide down her back as Yasha pulled away slightly. “Are you okay?”

Breathing out a rough, maniac huff of a laugh, Beau felt all the tension bleed from her muscles in one go. She slumped against Yasha, drained and freezing. The Aasimar’s hands fumbled to catch her for a moment, the sound of Yasha’s greatsword clattering to the cavern floor a jarring cacophony in the otherwise silence. But Yasha grabbed Beau around the shoulders and helped her to the floor.

“Hang on,” Yasha muttered more to herself than to Beau. “Close your eyes.”

Light flooded the space a moment later, Yasha’s greatsword glowing a vibrant, dull orange color like firelight where it lay beside them. Yasha turned back to Beau, concern lining every curve of her expression. She seemed to scan Beau, eyes latching onto the wound on Beau’s side. Her expression darkened marginally before she reached out and set her hand on the wound with a gentle touch. Yasha’s fingers glowed with a soft vibrance for a moment as warmth pulsed through Beau. It wasn’t enough to banish the chill in her veins, but it helped.

“Thanks,” Beau breathed shakily, her fingers still trembling. She looked around and realized with sinking dread that the rockfall now blocked the surrounding tunnel on both sides.

“Shit.” Beau summed up rather eloquently.

“Yep,” Yasha agreed, moving to sit beside Beau.

If they thought the tunnel was narrow to begin with, it now barely left room for Beau to stand upright. Which meant if Yasha so much as tried to straighten up, she would smack her head rather painfully into the rocks. It also meant she had no chance of maneuvering her sword, so it stayed put on the floor.

“Let’s hope Fjord sticks to his five-minute time limit,” Beau mused, curling her knees to her chest in an effort to keep her body heat maintained. “If he does, they’ll probably come looking for us relatively soon.”

“I hope so,” Yasha sighed, leaning against the part of the original cave wall. They were lucky the rocks had fallen the way they did. They might have just been crushed all together under different circumstances. Beau shuddered at the thought and felt more than saw Yasha’s gaze snap to her.

“You’re cold,” Yasha said. It was an observation rather than a question, but Beau still tried to deny it. She opened her mouth to brush off the concern, assure Yasha that she was fine. But before she could even get a word out, the Aasimar removed her fur-lined cloak and wrapped it around Beau’s shoulders. Her hands fussed for a few moments, tucking Beau beneath the fabric securely, lips pursed with a concentration Beau found stupidly endearing.

“Thanks,” Beau managed her gratitude without her voice cracking, burrowing into the offered cloak. She felt insufferably awkward just then, realizing she was now stuck in a tiny space with the woman of her affections. Every stilted, flustered interaction she had ever shared with Yasha reared to the forefront of Beau’s mind. It came with the reminder of the very solidifying conversation of her feelings she had had with Fjord not too long ago.

Oh, the gods hated her.

Yasha, who had been fiddling with something on her belt, looked up at Beau and frowned after a minute. She shifted closer and opened her arms in a gesture that made Beau’s face flush in an instant.

“You’re still shaking,” Yasha said by quiet explanation. “I do not want you to freeze or anything like that.”

Beau snorted and shifted in her seat, wanting nothing more than to let Yasha hold her, but holding back. Yasha offered, so there was no reason not to. But she reminded herself that Yasha was off-limits because of Zualla. Yasha needed to make the first move and yeah, she sat there with her arms out, ready to hold Beau without question or prompt. But if Beau accepted, wouldn’t it be like making the first move? Wouldn’t that make Yasha feel obligated to...something? Gods, she was so cold she couldn’t think, but she was certain that she couldn’t accept this offer because...because--

“Beau,” Yasha’s voice cut through the static in Beau’s head, the monk sniffing against the chill in her bones as she looked up. The Aasimar’s face was as neutral as ever, despite the pink in her cheeks. Her arms were still open.

“Do you want to schnuggle?”

Beau blinked at Yasha’s deadpan delivery and promptly lost it. She curled over herself with laughter, tears squeezing from her eyes as she clutched at her pained, chilled abdomen. She heard Yasha chuckling beside her, and Beau felt the tension eek from the atmosphere.

“Yeah,” Beau managed, breathless. “Yeah, I’d love to schnuggle.”

Still giggling, she let Yasha maneuver them so she was sideways in Yasha’s lap, her head tucked against the Aasimar’s shoulder. The barbarian’s arms were a firm, warm weight wrapped around Beau’s wiry frame, and she sank into the easily offered comfort.

“Thanks, Yasha,” Beau mumbled, exhaustion creeping in. “I owe you a couple gold pieces.”

Yasha chuckled quietly, the noise deep and rumbling in her chest where Beau’s cheek pressed against Yasha’s clavicle.

“You don’t owe me anything,” she promised. “I’m happy to help.”

“You’re great,” Beau sighed, pulling the cloak a little tighter around her. She couldn’t seem to banish the chill in her veins. Her training had helped her gain immunity to poisons, but that beast’s chill was more like magic than toxin.

Fuck.

Hopefully, the others found them soon, because Jester or Caduceus would probably fix it. But until then, she didn’t want to alert Yasha to how bad her wound might be. She didn’t want to worry her.

“Hey, Beau?” Yasha sounded hesitant above her, and Beau hummed in wordless answer. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah,” Beau mumbled, cozy despite the chill. “‘course.”

“I like you,” Yasha said, words rushed and stumbling, like she was afraid she’d lose her courage if she held onto them for too long. Beau stilled against Yasha’s shoulder and remained quiet. She hated to let those words kindle fledgling hopes, because what if Yasha didn’t mean it that way?

“A lot,” Yasha continued, and Beau remained frozen. “And sometimes...it makes me feel very...bad. Not because I regret it,” Yasha was quick to amend. “But because of...Zualla. But I think she would want me to be happy. And you...uhm. You make me happy.”

Yasha’s voice tapered off near the end, arms stiff where they remained wrapped around Beau. The monk knew that she feared rejection, feared that Beau would brush her off and tell her it wasn’t mutual.

But it was.

With an alarming amount of effort, Beau picked her head up off Yasha’s shoulder and turned her face up to look at the barbarian. She saw the nerves highlighting every inch of Yasha’s tentative expression and sensed the tremulous hope surging in her veins.

And all Beau could do was respond with an honesty she usually couldn’t afford.

“I like you, too, Yasha,” Beau said as quietly as possible, afraid she might shatter the air around them if she spoke too loudly. “More than I was prepared to. But I like you.”

Yasha didn’t seem to know what to do with Beau’s reciprocation, but her lips curled into a slow smile and her arms around the monk tightened. Joy eked into her eyes and she laughed, breathy and disbelieving.

“May I kiss you? I really want to kiss you. And not in an ‘this is the end, so I might as well’ kind of way. I’ve uh...I’ve wanted to kiss you a lot for, like, a while.”

It was Beau’s turn to huff out a laugh, and she was too afraid to speak and stumble, so she nodded eagerly instead.

Yasha, practically glowing, bundled Beau close and ducked her head down to meet the monk halfway.

The warm press of Yasha’s lips against her own didn’t magically banish the ice in Beau’s veins. But it was certainly a welcome distraction. Beau felt her breath catch in her chest, a stuttering, muted gasp of realization that oh fuck. She was in so deep.

Yasha’s arms stayed wrapped around her, firm and encompassing, keeping Beau right where she wanted to be. Their kiss was chaste, but deep and ringing with a passion beyond frightening. Beau had kissed many people in her time, had done a lot more than kissing, but this...this was something else. Yasha held her like she was worth something and kissed her with attention. She wasn’t chasing pleasure or looking to satisfy a desire - she was declaring to Beau I’m here, I’m in no hurry, I care about you.

And Beau had absolutely no idea what to do with that.

Her first instinct was to break and run - but that was not an option given their surroundings. And despite the fear thrumming in time with her heart, there was also something else - something lighter. A giddiness in her belly that curled with delight at being recognized, at being seen. Yasha always saw her and understood her in ways that others never could. And Yasha thanked her once before for not judging her, but Beau had never gotten the chance to thank Yasha for doing the same.

So she pressed a little closer and clung a little tighter and hoped that Yasha understood her now, too.

There was nowhere else for them to go, no rush in these tight quarters.

Beau adjusted, moving her lips to a more comfortable angle and Yasha met her halfway. The Aasimar inhaled, and Beau realized from where she still pressed against Yasha’s chest that she was inhaling, too. Beau had lost track of time, just clinging to the awareness that there was nothing else she wanted at the moment.

(Maybe she wanted to get out of this cave, but that could wait just a little longer.)

They only broke apart, breath stuttering from their shared pattern, when Jester’s voice rang in Beau’s head.

Beau! Where are you guys? We’re all waiting, but we don’t know if you found anything. Are you guys making out? Please let me know!

Clearing her throat as she laughed awkwardly, Beau just barely remembered to respond. She hoped her voice didn’t sound as wrecked as she felt.

“Hey, Jes,” she said, shooting a glance to Yasha, who blushed but grinned anyway. “We’re a bit...stuck. Our tunnel caved in. Probably about a three-minute walk down. Help us out, please.”

She wasn’t sure if that had fit in the allotted length of Jester’s spell, but the magic dissipated a moment later, so she figured it worked. She shrugged to hide another cold induced shudder and flicked a look up at Yasha. The barbarian regarded her fondly, fingers tracing idle patterns in the coat’s fabric up and down Beau’s arm. It was such a tender gesture that Beau felt her cheeks heat as she ducked her head.

“I guess we’ll be out soon,” Yasha said.

“Yeah,” Beau said eloquently. “I r-really need to str-stretch my legs.”

She didn’t realize how much her teeth were chattering as she spoke until Yasha shifted her around. The barbarian’s eyes lit with concern as she reached a hand out to brush the stray locks of Beau’s hair from her face. Beau, a little dizzy from the kiss and the relief of knowing their friends were coming, gave Yasha’s concern a dazed smile.

“Yer super hot, y’know that?” Beau slurred, leaning into the hand Yasha had cupped to Beau’s cheek. The dizziness and loopy sensation were more likely a result of the magical cold in her blood. But Beau couldn’t find it in herself to be that concern when it meant Yasha would keep holding her close.

“We need to get out of here, fast,” Yasha said, more to herself than anything. She shifted beneath Beau and the monk sucked in a sharp breath, clinging weakly to Yasha as the space started spinning with wild abandon.

“I don’ feel good...” Beau managed, her fingers like ice and her limbs cold and useless. “‘M cold.”

“I know,” Yasha whispered, one arm tightening around Beau’s shoulders as the other reached for her sword. It was clear, even through her icy haze, that Yasha did not know what she was going to do with her sword. She seemed desperate to just get them both out of this cave in.

Beau lost track of time after that, everything going fuzzy and floaty and cold. But Yasha’s arm around her remained a solid constant and Beau couldn’t find it in herself to worry about their dilemma. There was some muffled shouting at one point, something about ‘hurry’ and ‘stoneshape’.

She just wanted to sleep.

Warm hands touched her abdomen and a searing heat that felt like pure sunlight injected into her bloodstream shot from the point of contact. The ice in her veins evaporated rapidly and Beau came back to herself with a strangled gasp. Caduceus smiled down at her, giving Beau a gentle pat before stepping away.

“There ya go,” his familiar timbre rumbled. “Good as new.”

Beau pushed out a shaky sigh and realized that Yasha was still holding her.

“Hey,” she croaked with a grin.

“Are you okay?” Yasha fret in that soft voice of hers.

“Yeah,” Beau reassured her, rolling her ankles to crack them. “I feel good as new. Sorry for scaring you...I didn’t think it would get that bad that fast.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t heal you,” Yasha apologized as she set Beau on her feet, a hand still lingering against Beau’s back.

“You did what you could,” Beau waved away the apology. “I think everything you did helped me fight it off as long as I did.”

Neither of them mentioned the kiss as Caleb roped Beau into a fierce hug. Nor when Jester, Veth, and Fjord took a moment to fuss over her. Neither of them mentioned the kiss when Vess interrupted their reunion to remind them of their mission, nor when they trekked back toward the mouth of the cave. Neither of them brought it up as the party pulled their hoods up and tightened buttons, pulled gloves snug and secured their scarves.

Beau unfastened the clasp of Yasha’s cloak where it rested against her clavicle as the others headed back into the snow. She turned to Yasha, who caught the cloak before it could leave her shoulders, and tugged it firmly back over Beau’s frame, securing the fastenings with deft fingers.

“You keep it for now,” Yasha said to Beau’s confused look. “You need it more. Besides, it looks good on you.”

Beau felt her cheeks flush at the compliment as Yasha leaned down to press a lingering kiss to the flustered monk’s lips. This one didn’t last as long, didn’t end with syncopated breaths. But it warmed Beau from head to toe.

Neither of them mentioned the kiss as they walked from the cave side-by-side, wearing matching grins.

[doeantler]

You’ve answered asks about your tags and the energies/entities they represent before. Would you mind talking about the Mother of Horses, or Grandfather Bear?

i apologize for how long it took me to reach this ask - life bustle gave me quite the span of time before i found both the right moment and motivation to answer.

the Mother of Horses is a figure that's ironically run circles around me since my days of practicing kemeticism, in which i had originally attested Her to a Canaanite figure from antiquity referenced in incantations and little more. however, as my path adjusted, this affinity to whatever the "Mother of Horses" is to me never seemed to leave. She's still utterly a mystery to me, at least to Her exact nature of being, but She seems to tie heavily into my understanding of and interactions with the "Great Mother" - perhaps as a separate aspect, at least as far as i've come to believe. She is... audacious, to say the least. She speaks to me in thundering hooves and the unpredictability and tumultous power of the mountainside, of rockfall and cliff fracture and the rush of feeling your foot slip on the edge, for just a moment, and coming away with that new sense of freedom and appreciation for life just by touching the blade's edge of thrill and the fear that turns to ecstasy. perhaps She is, in a way and in the sense of Her connections to the Great Mother, a form of our endurance and foolhardy, our seeming insistent stupidity in the face of a natural set of laws that doesn't seem to care about your person, to look in the face of survival and what could be a soul-crushing struggle, and simply shaking the flies off your hide and saying, i think i'll make the best of it anyway.

Grandfather Bear is admittedly much farther away from me, and i've yet to have any accountable experiences with Him, if there is a Him to be referenced. Grandfather Bear is my outlet of honoring what i can recognize to be an immensely influential figure, at the very least, of our earliest inklings of organized spirituality. the bear has orbited us as both a thing to be feared and an awe-inspiring guardian, and i use 'Grandfather Bear', whether or not it holds any weight, as a form to give appreciation to for the inspiration we have had struck into us by tooth and nail alike; giving both berth and love to creatures and Their spirit that, among many, spelled out our world philosophy and the relationship we hold with our greater realm of life. what greater being is there to give honor to, after all, than the very beings that had an equal if not greater apparent understanding of life - than those who, like us, slept in the deepest wombs of the world in long meditation? i find the inherent curiosity of looking upon a newly-awoken bear far across a clearing and wondering what things they must have learned in that Long Sleep, what whispers they were given by the dark and damp earth, and the respect that comes from that, to be what Grandfather Bear is. whether or not this rings true for Someone or Something out there, ive yet to see, but i honor the memory nonetheless.

[etherithical]

Pidge Whump Scenarios (UPDATED: Seasons 1-4)

Please do not read this if you faint of heart. I do not want to ruin your life through my cursed Whump scenarios😅😈

Just some ideas if you have writer’s block or want to evolve some of these things for my (or your own/other peoples’) BTHB prompts! I kept them vague so you could add your own things. Most of them are AUs, are Pidge focused (y’all know me), and are placed in the order of the episodes.

Disclaimer: Many of these ideas are heavily inspired by some other amazing Pidge Whump writers out there. While I tried my hardest to keep ideas original and creative, be warned that some stray very close to what is already out there.

Whumpers: -Law Enforcement (considering the prior to Voltron prompt)

-School bullies, gangsters, blackmailers, pretty much any human that sucks and uses Pidge as their punching bag

-Commander Sendak

-Lieutenant Haxus

-Bounty Hunters, although who would want to injure their precious cargo? -Subcommander Ylvik (Note: Lead Galra on Shay’s Balmera. He is not seen on screen, but mentioned when Prorok states that he has command of said Galra’s fleets)

-Commander Prorok

-Macidus and those other Druid creeps

-Chief Information Officer Plytox (Not seen, mentioned)

-Zarkon? (Note: Considering he is more of the kill, no prisoners type of guy, you’ll have to tread carefully with this one. He should have a reason to keep her alive other than “Hey I like torturing young children cuz I’m a creeeeep!”

-Haggar (Note: Another one you should be careful with. While there are a TON of Whump fanfics with her, I don’t see her as really that sadistic. I mean, she interrogates prisoners, but that’s for the Empire’s villainous plans rather than her own personal enjoyment. Again, you’ll need a reason other than she wants to have fun.

-Commander Branko (Commander on Olkarion)

-Unilu traders?

-The Warden from Escape from Beta Traz

-Lotor

-Lotor’s Generals (I think it would be cool to see Narti as the Whumper. Kinda creepy since she can’t see or talks, so she’s just hurting Pidge and saying nothing the entire time)

-Commander Hira and the evil Alteans from the Alternate Universe

-Lambonite Scavengers (Seen in The Legend Begins)

-Evil Matt...? 😏

-Bounty Hunter from Reunion

-Evil AU version of Pidge, resentful of our beautiful girl’s happier life.

-Commander Throk

-General Raht

-Ladnok or Trugg (female Whumpers are 👌)

Scenarios/Prompts:

1. Pidge’s secret about being a girl comes forth before the Blue Lion is found. You can play this idea a bit: Maybe Pidge is arrested, or maybe Iverson doesn’t want to tell the truth about Kerberos, so he takes matters into his own hands? It’s up to you

2. Not a specific episode, but Pidge is made into a Robeast?

3. Fall of the Castle of Lions/Return to the Balmera. Pidge fails to save the Castle of Lions from Sendak. This one could go in several unique ways depending on personal choice. Here’s some ideas if you need some inspiration.

-Haxus defeats Pidge, but instead of killing her, he tortures or maims her.

-Keith and Allura are unable to get in on time, and Sendak has Pidge.

-Sendak convinces Pidge to turn herself into him.

4. Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer take a certain little Green Paladin with them instead of (or along with) the Blue Lion. Hunk is infuriated at the rest of the team for being too trusting, and by doing so letting the Bounty Hunters escape with their friend.

5. Pidge is caught in a rockfall in Return to the Balmera. (Note: Subcommander Ylvik is the name given of the lead Galra on the Balmera, though he is not seen on screen)

6. Pidge catches onto the infected Alfor’s plan. Unfortunately, he gets to her before she can tell the others…

7. Macidus finds Pidge, Lance, and Hunk and takes her with him to Central Command. Now we have both a Paladin and a princess captured! YAY!

8. Voltron is defeated in The Black Paladin and Pidge is the only Paladin left alive. Zarkon chooses to keep her alive (Why? As a pet? To entertain his soldiers? Because one of his subordinates insisted?). Maybe Thace could be the caretaker, sneaking in food and medicine when no one is looking?

9. An idea for Across the Universe: Pidge is injured on her landing on the trash nebula. Nevertheless, she must manage to build the satellite, with a little help from the Green Lion and the trash floofs, of course!

10. Greening the Cube. Pidge is captured during the mission and the Commander (no name given) either makes her his slave, or, due to her unbelievably strong connection to the world around her, experiments on her.

11. In Eye of the Storm, Pidge is hit by one of the lasers in the teludav. While she survives, the hit causes severe damage to her body that can’t be easily fixed, or not at all.

12. Pidge and the Green Lion fall into the acid in The Ark of Taujeer. This one is a good option for Plance, since Lance and Pidge were working together to sew together the planet’s crust.

13. Pidge is captured in Space Mall and sold as a slave by a group of Unilu.

14. There already are some Escape from Beta Traz whump scenarios out there, so this one was a bit of a challenge. One idea is that the Warden catches Pidge while she is hiding under his desk, and forces Lance and Shiro to face an ultimatum: leave Slav, a vital part of the plan to defeat Zarkon with him (and Laika, too!), or leave Pidge, their friend and the Green Paladin, at his mercy.

Another idea is that everyone gets caught. Because Pidge was pretty much the one conducting the mission from the Control Center (and through that, causing all the trouble), the Warden beats her up.

15. Not tied to an episode, but let’s imagine for a moment that for whatever reason, team Voltron believes that Pidge is half-Galra rather than Keith. Pidge, already reeling from the false disbelief, experiences Allura’s racism, which grows increasingly detrimental to her confidence. And, Keith, who knows he is Galra, is unsure whether to tell everyone. I don’t see him as the “I’m afraid she’ll act the same way toward me as she is with Pidge” kind of guy, so you’ll have to get a little creative. Either way, once the truth comes out, Allura is terribly guilty and Pidge is furious at Keith for not saying anything while she suffered in silence.

16.Pidge is hit by the laser-eyed monsters… well, um, lasers in Stayin’ Alive.

17. The plan in The Best Laid Plans and Blackout fails. This one is almost identical to the The Black Paladin idea, except later in the show. I like this one a bit better as the hatred for the Paladins is higher, seen as they managed to get as far as they did, with the downside of losing Thace as caretaker.

18. What if… In Red Paladin, Voltron for some reason was doubtful about the attack of Puig, so Pidge offered to go in by herself (since the Green Lion can turn invisible). While Lotor and the gang expected evidence that there ‘is no Voltron without the Black Lion,’ taking Pidge to interrogate her is an easy alternative. Or, if this one doesn’t excite you, he can capture her when Voltron was set up (since the other Lions and their lack of experience flying leaves for an easy capture on Lotor’s part).

19. Fairly similar to 18. Lotor’s plan in The Hunted to flush out the Lions and capture them one by one mostly or completely succeeds. Either way, Pidge and possibly a few more of the Paladins are captured.

20. In Hole in the Sky, The Alteans attach some sort of alternate version of the Hoktril to Pidge, one that leaves her with free will but the inability to do anything but what the Alteans want. Sort of as a punishment for trying to mess up their plans. This could be a part of a larger plot: Where Commander Hira manages to cross through the wormhole and begins to take over the universe. Maybe an enormous war between the alternate reality Alteans and the Galra Empire could start. Or else this could happen to Pidge when the others are trying to escape and she gets caught and left behind.

21. While The Legend Begins doesn’t give me an AU, an interesting idea came to mind. We know that the original Paladins of Voltron fought evil before the Galra took over the universe. At the beginning of the episode they are fighting Lambonite scavengers. What if 10,000 in the future, they or some other ancient menace came back to exact revenge on the Paladins. And while they can’t hurt dead people, torturing their successors is an easy second best.

22. Let me just spill my Reunion ideas here. For just some general angst, you could just have Matt be dead. Imagine Pidge has been gone for vargas, so the Paladins go and search for her, only to find her literally hugging onto a gravestone, her eyes wide, and when they try to move her she is reluctant to leave her brother’s side and unresponsive when they try to talk to her. She constantly holds on, it doesn’t seem like she recognizes (or cares about) her friends beside her, and Shiro has to drag her out so they can leave. Another option, a darker one, is that the Bounty Hunter wins and takes Pidge and Matt to the Galra. A fun idea to play with, if you ask me. And if you’re willing to go even darker, making Matt evil and having him actually hurt (or… torture) his sister is an idea I’ve played with for the longest time.

23. The Galra catch on to the Paladins’ in The Voltron Show and the ‘propaganda’ it’s spreading. Zarkon or some other Galran in power organizes an attack during one of the performances, when the Paladins are vulnerable. Most of the Paladins manage to escape but Pidge is captured. Or the performances from the Voltron Show create enemies… and people who should definitely be avoided for each Paladin. Pidge is captured off guard by a stalker who wants to make her ‘his dog.’ (If you write this I would rather it not be NSFW. You can be you but please use your own ideas for that)

24. Pidge and Hunk fail to disable the Communications Station in Begin the Blitz. Because of their failure, the Voltron Coalition takes serious losses, and Pidge is brutally beaten as punishment while Hunk is forced to watch. Another one is because they lost Lotor as a bargaining chip, Ezor, Zethrid, and Acxa capture Pidge in order to reenter the ranks of the Galra Empire.

25. Somehow, Pidge is the only survivor in the entire Coalition after the massive explosion in A New Defender. The Galra choose to keep her alive as a prisoner of war… and for some fun. And alternative to this is that Pidge survives and manages to escape the Galra, but is a fugitive of the Galra Empire and constantly in peril of being found… and paying the price

Feel free to use these or change these however you like! I honestly don’t care how you use them; the purpose of this is to inspire you, not hold you back! I’ll update it once I’ve finished rewatching seasons 5-6.

You can request me to do my own ideas for my BTHB card, although I would like to see some of your own personal improvements/additions as well!

[tsarisfanfiction]

Rescue (Tales From The Heart)

Fandom: One Piece Rating: Teen Warnings: blood, injury Characters: Law, Heart Pirates

When the den den mushi rang, Law's gut twisted. It could have been nothing – an SOS, a Marine trap (those were often one and the same), or maybe Penguin and Shachi had found something they deemed 'fun and interesting' on their scouting. It could have been, it probably was, but he hadn't been expecting a call, and the unexpected rarely went his way.

When he heard his name, the den den mushi materialising Shachi's hat and shades and looking so desperate, even before Clione could say a greeting, he knew that once again it wasn't going to go his way.

A rockfall, or a cave-in? Shachi wasn't entirely clear but Law gathered after a moment that it was both, a cascade of rocks trapping them inside, and his first thought was the exasperated why did you two both go inside without checking its stability. He loved and respected the pair of them, but just sometimes they did make the most bizarre calls, or just plain forgot to think.

When he heard that Penguin had concussion (Shachi didn't say so exactly, but the description was pretty clear and Law knew he'd already diagnosed it himself), Law shifted around the mental list of nakama he was going to bring to dig them out. Shachi was competent, but the faster he could get treatment to the older man the less chance of permanent damage. Unable to help himself, he rattled off a list of instructions, despite knowing Shachi knew it all already, and had probably already done most of them before making the call. As he spoke he gestured to the nakama crowded around, indicating who would come with him and who would double-check the infirmary was ready for Penguin.

He was in the middle of signing to Clione that he should link up another baby den den mushi to the call so he could stay on the line as he left when Shachi dropped the bomb.

The cave was inhabited.

Of course it was, Law groused mentally as he scooped up the new baby den den mushi and claimed Shachi's vivre card from Bepo before hurrying out of the room, his selected 'rescue party' hot on his heels. When something went wrong, everything went wrong. He couldn't just have one problem at a time, no, life was never that kind. Fear bloomed when Shachi repeated the call for him to hurry, a different tone of desperation sneaking into his voice.

"There's no way I'm gonna beat this thing alone."

While not at Law's own level, Shachi was hardly weak. Questions flitted though his head as he picked up the pace into as much of a sprint as he dared over unfamiliar terrain. If Shachi had his sword, would he still say that? If Penguin was capable of moving, would the pair of them be able to defeat whatever the inhabitant was? Was Shachi only saying that because he had to defend Penguin too?

None of those questions were helpful, Law scolded himself, listening intently to the den den mushi in his hand for any signs of how Shachi was faring, and following the vivre card closely. It hadn't lit up yet, Shachi wasn't dying. Yet, his traitorous mind whispered and he slammed a mental door on the pessimistic part of his brain. No, he refused to lose them, especially to something that hid away in a cave.

Small gasps escaped the den den mushi, accompanied by the occasional defiant remark, and Law wondered if the creature was intelligent or if Shachi was just talking to himself. Maybe he was just ordering Penguin not to fall asleep and had actually won without a problem… There was no point kidding himself, Law scolded firmly. Shachi would never had said he couldn't win if it had been something that quick to subdue.

Then the word venomous filtered through the den den mushi and Law prayed they weren't too far away, that it was a slow-acting venom and he'd get there in time. Hot on its heels were screams, and Law realised that Shachi had been right – that Shachi was losing – and found a burst of speed from somewhere as a cave finally came into view, an impressive cascade of rocks blocking in the entrance.

Originally, Law had planned on digging them out, at loath to use Shambles on the concussed Penguin, but with something so dangerous trapped in there with them they didn't have time for that.

The connection dropped as he was reassuring Shachi that they were there, that he only had to hold on another few seconds and Law would be there. The rational part of his brain mused that it had merely been dropped as Shachi fought. It was overridden at the sight of the vivre card bursting into flames, and Law realised the fight was as good as lost for Shachi.

He had to get them out of there now.

His Room expanded, and at long last he could tell what was happening inside. There was Penguin, lying motionless on the cave floor, not far from the entrance – too close, Law's mind scolded, although with the creature also in there it wasn't like Shachi had much of a choice. And then there was Shachi, pinned to the ground by some chimera-type creature Law had never heard of before.

The time for thinking was over. With a twist of his fingers he was inside the cave, Penguin safely out, and facing the creature that was causing Shachi so much pain.

It was dark inside the cave, the only sources of light a faint glow where daylight persisted though the block and his own Room, but it was enough to see the creature shaking a boneless Shachi around like a limp rag doll and he feared he was too late even as he sliced the creature up to reclaim his nakama and prevent it from trying to follow them when they left.

Shachi was still conscious and capable of talking when he was finally, finally, finished with the growling and hissing creature, which Law could only take as a good sign. Less of a good sign, when he teleported the pair of them (plus Penguin's hat and Shachi's dagger, which his Room had picked up on) out of the cave, was the way Shachi's right half was covered in blood. Both his arms were swollen and while the venom hadn't killed him yet, it would if Law didn't treat him fast enough.

The closest, Clione carefully picked up Shachi and the entire group headed back, following Bepo who had reportedly taken Penguin back already.

Sure enough, the man was lying in a bed in the infirmary when Clione stumbled across the threshold of the infirmary, Bepo coaxing him to stay awake with what looked like limited success. Law sent half of the rescue team over to help as he hurriedly cut away what remained of Shachi's top to see the damage properly. It wasn't pretty: the skin was cold and clammy to the touch and had turned a mottled pasty colour. Aware of possible permanent nerve damage, Law had Clione check Shachi's reactions to touch as he started to drain the venom from his body.

Shachi's reactions were to loudly curse as various parts of his arm and right side were pinched, which Law considered to be the first positive sign of the day. He didn't let himself relax until not only had he purged as much of the venom as he could (leaving a grouching Shachi to vomit up the rest as and when his body located more to evict), but Penguin had begun to recognise his surroundings again and was capable of coherent words.

Law decided that, while they needed to find more food if there was anything to forage, they would not be spending much time on the island. The moment Bepo declared their log pose set, they would be leaving. He might have dealt with one such creature, but he didn't believe for a moment it was the only one, and he wouldn't expose his crew to them if he had a choice.

[stargleam-star]

Warriors Rewrite Pt 3: Forest of Secrets

Quick notes: Cinderpath is still healing from her injury, though she’s recognized as a full warrior. Cloudkit/paw is pure white with blue eyes and is probably the fluffiest cat in the clan. Pebblekit is a white mollykit with blue-gray patches (Bluestar’s color), Finchkit is a chocolate tabby tomkit (looks kinda like Oakheart), Cloverkit is a lilac tabby mollykit, and Pigeonkit is a cinnamon and white tabby tomkit

Prologue goes almost the same. Except Oakheart confesses Mistykit and Stonekit are his children with Bluefur to Graypool. But Graypool is understanding and caring, she promises to care for these kittens and keep Oakheart’s secret safe.

In main story, it’s been a while since the battle in Windclan camp. A bad snowstorm has kicked up, making prey scarce. Tonight is the night of the gathering and Fireheart and Graystripe have been chosen to go. Though Tigerclaw, Darkstripe, and Dustpelt are giving them some troubles. It seems Tigerclaw’s been spreading rumors about the two young toms being disloyal to Thunderclan for letting Silverstream escape unharmed during battle. Fireheart is angry at this, and finally thinks about exposing Tigerclaw’s evilness to Bluestar. He decides to gather evidence after the gathering

During the gathering, Graystripe wanders off to be with Silverstream and Fireheart joins a group of elders. They talk about a leafbare worse than the one they’re experiencing now. Rosetail mentions that was the season Bluestar lost two of her kits. Fireheart is intrigued by this information, only having heard vague mention of other kits by Bluestar in random conversations from Mosscloud or Thrushpelt. Before more info can be learned the meeting starts. Its a little tense but otherwise goes on without a hitch

Fireheart finds Graystripe and Ravenpaw after the gathering ends, rushing them home so they can discuss Tigerclaw. They’re the first warriors to make it back to camp. As soon as they get there they fetch Cinderpath and help bring her with them to a secluded area. Brightpaw follows after them a heartbeat later. Brightpaw had heard a bit about what was going on with Tigerclaw when Fireheart had taken her along to meet Princess. So now he doesn’t mind having his apprentice sit in and learn the whole story

Ravenpaw retells the story about the battle at Sunningrocks. He makes mention of some new details. Redtail had been fighting against the Riverclan warrior Stonefur when Oakheart jumped in. He sent Stonefur away and then told Redtail “No Thunderclan cat will ever harm that warrior. Its a very weird detail that stands out to Fireheart. None of the four cats can understand what’s so special about Stonefur though, so for now they set that information aside.

Ravenpaw continues with the story. He says after Oakheart started fighting with Redtail, Tigerclaw jumped in. The three toms were tussling along the floor in a pile. Ravenpaw swears he saw Tigerclaw sink his teeth into Redtail. Cinderpath comments that he’d mentioned seeing Oakheart biting the deputy at the same time. Was Ravenpaw was so sure it was Tigerclaw trying to land the killing blow? Ravenpaw insists he saw right. He says he’d seen Oakheart biting Redtail’s right shoulder, close to his neck but not on it. Graystripe recalls seeing the scars left on the former deputy when he’d healed. There was a nasty bite wound on his right shoulder, and another on his throat on his left side. But that didn’t prove Tigerclaw was trying to kill Redtail, only that at the very least he’d made a mistake and bit him instead of Oakheart.

Fireheart then brings up that he, Graystripe, and Ravenpaw had been away at Mothermouth when the battle Redtail died in had started. So they don’t know who’d finished him off, and it could’ve possibly been Tigerclaw. Cinderpath had been there though. She says she remembers seeing Tigerclaw near Redtail during the fight, but there was so much going on that she didn’t actually see him do anything. Although she distinctively recalls Tigerclaw hovering above Redtail’s body when she’d finally noticed the deputy was down. Graystripe pipes it still doesn’t prove Tigerclaw is a murderer.

Fireheart decides that if they can prove Oakheart was killed in a rockslide instead of by Tigerclaw, it’ll put a hole in the deputy’s story and at least make Bluestar question and be suspicious of his actions. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start. The others agree. The five cats decide to part ways, finding it too chilly to keep talking the way they have right now. When Fireheart and Graystripe head towards the warrior’s den, Fireheart asks his friend if he can get a favor from Silverstream. They need to speak with Stonefur about what happened to Oakheart at Sunningrocks. And maybe Stonefur will be able to explain what Oakheart meant when he said “no Thunderclan cat will ever harm him”. Graystripe believes he’ll be able to get his mate to help

The two cats settle into the den to sleep. Sandstorm comes over, sensing the coldness of Fireheart’s fur and curls up in his nest with him to warm him up. Feeling cozy, Fireheart drifts off into a dreamworld full of warmth and soft grass. A hunting trail leads him to a small clearing where a tortoishell waits for him. Redtail stands with head and tail raised, motioning for Fireheart to follow him. He leads him a good few foxlengths away to a pond which seems to reflect back flickers of light like fireflies. The two toms bend down, their noses close to the water’s surface. “Remember, Fireheart. Water can quench fire.” Redtail warns. Fireheart glances at the deputy just as he dissipates into a cloud of smoke which wakes him up.

Fireheart and Graystripe head down to the river. They’re determined to start their investigation. They cross, sneaking close to Riverclan’s camp. After waiting a while they catch Silverstream as she’s leaving. Graystripe brings her over so Fireheart can question her. Silverstream tells him she hadn’t been at the battle for Sunningrocks. But she can fetch a cat who might know something. She leaves a short while, returning with another she-cat. She introduces her as Mistyfoot. Mistyfoot is a lilac color with darker points and blue eyes; her main fur color reminds Fireheart of Mosscloud’s patches. In fact for some odd reason Mistyfoot seems familiar to him, despite them never meeting before, but he figures he’s probably spotted her at a gathering once.

Graystripe and Silverstream leave Fireheart to talk with Mistyfoot. She says she’d been at the fight for Sunningrocks. Fireheart asks what she knows about Oakheart and his death. Mistyfoot confesses Oakheart was her father and that the deputy’s death was a tragic accident. Fireheart asks if she’s sure, and Mistyfoot tells him she’d helped dig him out from the rock rubble herself. Plus the medicine cat had confirmed the rockfall had been what killed Oakheart. Fireheart then questions what relation Oakheart had with Stonefur, and Mistyfoot tells him the tom is her brother. But Oakheart wasn’t overprotective of them, he’d let them fight. Fireheart wonders aloud why Oakheart would proclaim no Thunderclan cat would harm Stonefur. Mistyfoot suggests Fireheart speak with her mother Graypool at a later time. Fireheart thanks Mistyfoot for the information and returns to Thunderclan territory

When Fireheart gets into camp he notices cats gathering near the nursery. He goes to investigate, finding Longtail standing guard outside. Mosscloud has just had her kits. After waiting patiently for his turn, Fireheart is let inside to meet them. Mosscloud purrs fondly as she tells Fireheart her kittens names: Pebblekit, Pigeonkit, Cloverkit, and Finchkit. Fireheart can’t help but think about how much each of them already reminds him of his former mentor

Graystripe greets Fireheart when he comes out, whispering to him that Silverstream and Mistyfoot have arranged for him to meet Graypool tomorrow

Fireheart goes to speak with the elder, asking her about what Oakheart had said. When the two of them are left alone she tells him a secret. Graypool had raised Mistyfoot and Stonefur as her own, but they had originally been born into Thunderclan. But she warns Fireheart not to breathe a word of this information, no cat but the two of them could know. Not even Mistyfoot and Stonefur. Fireheart leaves this meeting satisfied, ready to start finalizing a case to present to Bluestar

When he gets home, Fireheart requests a meeting with the leader. They go into the den, and he presents all that he knows to her. Bluestar warns these are serious charges he’s accusing Tigerclaw of. Fireheart knows but asks if she can believe the deputy could possibly be dangerous. But she gives no reply. Fireheart takes this opportunity to mention Mistyfoot and Stonefur’s heritage to Bluestar and this makes her snap at him. She yells at him to never bring up any of this information again and demands he go do something useful like train his apprentice. Fireheart slinks away, off to find Brightpaw to train her

Along the way he bumps into Ravenpaw who’s off to fetch herbs for Yellowfang. Fireheart offers his assistance to her as soon as he fetches his apprentice first. Ravenpaw is glad for the company and goes to wait for him by the camp’s entrance. As Fireheart goes to the apprentice’s den, he passes Brokentail who’s being taunted by kits. Fireheart scoops the leader of them up, carrying her a few tail-lengths away. Cloudkit is mad at him and Darkstripe tries to jump in for the kit’s defense. He’d been watching and claims her playing was all in good fun. Fireheart tells him to butt out and Darkstripe calls him a kittypet. Cloudkit asks what that means. Fireheart tells her, and confess she is one too, and her biological mother. But Cloudkit proclaims she doesn’t care. She turns, shouting to Darkstripe calling him “Dirtstripe” as a response to his earlier remark. Fireheart chuckles and sends her off towards the nursery. He finally calls for Brightpaw, having her come with him to meet with Ravenpaw at last

Later that night when Fireheart sleeps he dreams of kitten Mistyfoot and Stonefur beside a Thunderclan queen with no face. It unnerves him so much that he when he wakes the nightmare sticks out in his mind. But he pushes it back trying to think of better things. Like hunting with Sandstorm and their apprentices. The four of them head out together. But as they’re busy catching prey a kit cry grabs their attention. They race over to the noise to see Cloudkit facing a badger. The four older cats leap to action, Brightpaw dragging Cloudkit to safety. When the creature is gone, Fireheart questions his niece. She says she got seperated from Brindleface when she’d taken her and her adopted littermates out for a walk, and then the badger stumbled upon her. Glad that Cloudkit is safe, the patrol calls off their hunt and bring their prey and the kit back home. When they get home Tigerclaw punished Cloudkit with elder duty for causing so much trouble recently.

The next day, Fireheart decides to visit Princess. As he’s on his way, he catches Tigerclaw’s scent heading in the same direction and its fresh. Scared for his sister, Fireheart follows the scent trail, running into Tigerclaw. Tigerclaw, however, doesn’t see the young warrior. He passes by him in the direction from home. When he disappears, Fireheart continues following his scent curious as to where he’d been. The trail ends near a pile of carrion where many pawprints have been pressed into the snow. Fireheart is suspicious of what had gone on here but decides to leave it be, going to Twolegplace.

A quarter moon passes. Fireheart has a small chat with a heavily pregnant Goldenflower and the happy new mom, Mosscloud. Tigerclaw approaches them telling Fireheart to lead a border patrol to Riverclan. He brings Runningwind, Sandstorm, and Longtail. As they approach the river they see that it’s flooded. Fireheart worries for Silverstream and Mistyfoot. The patrol returns home to report to Bluestar

Bluestar calls a meeting, warning the cats of the flood. She orders a prey stockpile to be made. Fireheart and Graystripe leave to hunt as close to the river as possible. In reality, Graystripe is trying to get to Silverstream. As they head to Sunningrocks the two hear some kits cry and go to rescue them.

When they are saved, Fireheart and Graystripe head to Riverclan camp. Leopardfur meets them as they try to enter, accusing them of trespassing. But she shuts up when she sees the two kits. They’re Mistyfoot’s missing kits, Reedkit and Primrosekit. Mistyfoot is grateful for her kit’s return, as is Crookedstar

Fireheart and Graystripe then offer to help the clan more knowing the river’s fish are being poisoned. Crookedstar is reluctant to accept outside help but eventually caves. The pair hunt for Riverclan the next day. When they leave from their visit, Graystripe tells Fireheart a powerful secret: Silverstream is expecting kits

Fireheart is frantic at the news arguing about it with Graystripe on the way home. As he speaks of his friend’s unborn kits he thinks of Mistyfoot and Stonefur. How had their parents handled having halfclan kits?

As the pair make it to Thunderclan territory, Cloudkit comes up to them. She’d spied on them, tracking them from camp all the way to stepping stones. And following her is Tigerclaw. Tigerclaw looks incredibly mad and suspicious, eyeing both toms questioning what they were doing n Riverclan. Then he accuses them both of disloyalty, especially casting his glare onto Graystripe. He leads the way home, eager to tell Bluestar of the treachery

Cloudkit is put back on elders duty for not staying in camp like she was told. Fireheart manages to get a private meeting with Bluestar so he and Graystripe could properly explain what happened. They tell her everything: about the washed away kits, about Riverclan’s camp, and about helping them with getting food. Bluestar sees the good intentions and commends them fir it, but she still punishes them. They are put on apprentice duty, with warrior supervision, and they are no longer allowed to help Riverclan. Graystripe looks devastated and Bluestar questions why. Graystripe refuses to tell. Bluestar then asks why he seems to feel so strongly for other clans these days be absent for his own. But Graystripe doesn’t respond. Bluestar simply grunts in annoyance and sends the warriors away

Bluestar dismisses them, but asks Fireheart to stay an extra moment. She asks him if any Riverclan cats have drowned, seeming oddly worried. Fireheart says no. Bluestar then asks who the mother of the kits he rescued are. Fireheart replies they are Mistyfoot’s. This makes Bluestar meet his gaze, which she hadn’t before. Her blue eyes are sparkling in a similar way that he’d noticed they had when Mosscloud had given birth to her kits. Before he can question it, Bluestar sends him away to eat and start his new duties

Dustpelt is the cat assigned to watch Fireheart and Graystripe work. He pesters Fireheart more, calling him “Firepaw” and “kittypet”, interuppting him as he’s trying to hunt. He tells Fireheart he’s a lousy hunter and Fireheart asks him to demonstrate better stalking. But Dustpelt makes an excuse, which Fireheart is all to happy to point out. Dustpelt gets offended and turns to leave

Back at camp, Fireheart visits the medicine cats. He gives some prey to Ravenpaw and Yellowfang and Yellowfang tells him some excellent news. Ravenpaw will be receiving his true medicine cat name in a half-moon, and Cinderpath’s leg has healed enough for her to move to the warrior’s den. Fireheart congratulates his friends then leaves to feed some other cats. He gives prey to the elders next, watching his niece eagerly listen to stories as she lays out fresh moss. When he emerges from the den he sees Tigerclaw by the prisoner’s tree, sharing tongues with Brokentail like they’ve been clanmates for seasons. Fireheart thinks of this as a sweet merciful gesture, and for a heartbeat he starts to doubt the accusations he’d brought up against the deputy

A few days pass. Fireheart is relieved from apprentice duty and taken with Tigerclaw and Longtail on a patrol to Fourtrees. They need to see if the floodwater will stop them from going to the gathering. On the way they stumble upon the stream they usually have to cross, seeing it now swollen. They travel upstream a while, searching for a safe place to cross. Tigerclaw makes them wade into the water where it seems shallowest, finding a fallen branch the clan may be able to use to cross over. He makes Fireheart test it to see it its safe. Fireheart gets onto the branch, feeling unbalanced. The current is rough beneath it, and eventually pushes the branch free, sending Fireheart into the water. Longtail jumps in after him, saving his apprentice from drowning. Fireheart thanks him when they’re safely ashore, though Longtail insists it was nothing.

On the way home, Fireheart thinks about what just happened. Tigerclaw had sent him onto the branch despite seeing how dangerous it was. Though Longtail had saved him, Fireheart doubts Tigerclaw expected him to survive. Meeting the tabby’s gaze, Fireheart can see the hatred in his eyes. He watches Tigerclaw’s eyes narrow with an unspoken threat, and he knows for sure that this had been a murder attempt. Fireheart’s doubt in Tigerclaw’s evilness from a few days ago is gone; he knows for sure now the deputy is dangerous and willing to kill those who get in his way.

The next evening is the gathering. Bluestar has Fireheart, Graystripe, Sandstorm and a few others attend. But Sandstorm is concerned, there isnt a way to get to the gathering with the flood. But Bluestar is insistent they at least try to get there, or else Starclan will be mad. So they go, at first trying to follow the Thunderpath. Then they go onto Shadowclan territory. They’re caught by the enemy clan’s gathering patrol, but Bluestar explains their situation before any fighting can break out. The two clans travel together to Fourtrees.

When they get there the meeting is called. Nightstar speaks first declaring he’s learned the whereabouts of Brokenstar. He knows Thunderclan is harboring the ex-leader as a prisoner. His warriors heard it from a talkative apprentice, and Fireheart sees Swiftpaw crouch down in shame a few fox-lengths ahead of him. Bluestar explains why she’s chosen to keep Brokentail instead of killing him. But Shadowclan and Windclan are pissed regardless of her motives. The meeting is called off on account of hostilities. Riverclan offers to aid Thunderclan back home, owing a debt to Fireheart and Graystripe for their aid.

On the way home, Fireheart catches Graystripe trying to walk with Silverstream, and he sees Bluestar chatting with Mosscloud and Mistyfoot. The leader seems so happy talking with the two queens, a warmness glowing in her eyes. Fireheart thinks its though he’s also curious about Bluestar’s behavior

A few more days go by. Fireheart is out hunting with Brightpaw. He’s sent her away after a mouse’s scent trail but she comes running back pretty quickly. She looks frantic, and she hurriedly tells her mentor Shadowclan and Windclan are coming to attack Thunderclan. Fireheart sends her home to warn Bluestar and have her bring some warriors to help fight.

The clan fights hard against the enemy warriors, winning the battle. But it feels like a hollow victory. They’d only had to fight because they were harboring Brokentail. Graystripe comes home after all is said and done. Tigerclaw sees him return and questions his whereabouts. He questions Graystripe’s loyalty too, as he’s getting sick of the warrior never being around. Graystripe dismisses him, going to deposit some prey he’s caught on the fresh-kill pile

Fireheart visits the medicine den. Ravenpaw is healing him, and while Bluestar is being tended to by Yellowfang. Yellowfang thanks her for protecting Brokentail and she’s sorry for all the trouble that’s come to the clan. Bluestar comforts her in a motherly way and Fireheart watches. Pieces start falling to place in his mind and he realizes Bluestar has to be the mother of Mistyfoot and Stonefur. Her concern for Riverclan, her avoidance of the question of their heritage, Mistyfoot’s darker color points and Stonefur’s identical blue-gray colored pelt, and the loving look in Bluestar’s eyes when talking to the queens, it all made perfect sense now. Fireheart decides to ask about this later.

Bluestar calls a meeting after giving the medicine cats some time to tend to wounds. She decides to make the older apprentices into warriors. Brackenpaw is named Brackenfur, and Snowpaw is named Snowear (Fireheart thinks the second warrior’s name is kind of ironic and cruel, given that Snowear is deaf). Unlike his brothers though, Swiftpaw is not named. He’s held back as punishment for revealing the secret of Brokentail to the other clans. Rightfully he is mad and Whitestorm is disappointed in him. Frostfur is also displeased, trying to argue against the decision. But Bluestar reminds her the danger the clan was put in as a result of the secret getting out. Frostfur backs down though she’s still cranky

A few days pass. Fireheart looks for Graystripe in the forest. His friend has snuck off again and Fireheart is afraid Tigerclaw might do something to him if he catches him alone-or worse, with Silverstream. Graystripe ends up running into Fireheart during his search however, begging him desperately for help. Silverstream is kitting. Fireheart runs home and fetches Ravenpaw, since Yellowfang is out herb collecting. The two cats run to Graystripe and Silverstream’s aid. The kitting seems to be going wrong, as there’s a lot of blood surrounding the queen. Tigerclaw is also there. He found Silverstream when she was left alone, and Graystripe regrettably had to tell him what’d happened while Fireheart was away. Tigerclaw is furious and tries to have the warriors leave Silverstream alone to handle her kitting, but Ravenpaw stands up to him, telling him kits are in danger, and that Tigerclaw is being a ridiculous, stupid furball. Fireheart is proud of his friend, thinking about how he was once a skinny nervous apprentice, and now he’s standing here a confident full grown medicine cat. Ravenpaw pushes Tigerclaw away so he can tend to Silverstream.

The kitting is rough, but Ravenpaw manages to help her and two out of three kits survive. But Silverstream and the kits are weak; they need to be watched over. Ravenpaw has the warriors bring Silverstream to Thunderclan’s medicine den where she will be kept until she is strong enough to go home. The kits are given to Goldenflower-who’d just had her litter the day before-to suckle until Silverstream is strong enough to do it herself

Tigerclaw gets Bluestar, bringing her to the medicine den to show her what Graystripe’s been up to. Bluestar is shocked at the sight of the weak queen, but is not suprised by this news. Fireheart expects Bluestar to be furious, but she’s not. She congratulates Silverstream on her kits and goes to see them, promising to interrogate her and Graystripe later when things have settled a bit. Tigerclaw is angered that Bluestar would not take immediate action, but leaves as Yellowfang returns and yells at him to leave her patient alone

Fireheart leaves to check on the kits for Graystripe. He finds Bluestar there, looking down at the kittens with longing. Was she missing her other kits, he wonders. Fireheart watches Bluestar stand and go to curl up beside Mosscloud, her only truly known daughter, rubbing her cheek against hers. She looks down at Mosscloud’s sleeping kits, purring at the sight. Fireheart decides to leave the family alone to report to Graystripe

Graystripe is practically glued to Silverstream’s side. Ravenpaw is feeding her herbs to stop the bleeding. Meanwhile, Yellowfang studies the dead it. It’s shaped abnormally, like its spine had twisted inside the queen and got stuck. It could have been the reason for Silverstream’s complications, she explains. She praises Ravenpaw for being able to dislodge it, or else that alone would have killed Silverstream is bloodloss hadn’t. Graystripe thanks Ravenpaw over and over again for his aid. Fireheart decides to go train Brightpaw a while so the happy couple could enjoy each other’s company in peace

While out hunting by the river, Brightpaw calls out to Fireheart alerting him of a patrol heading to Riverclan. They must be going to tell the clan about Silverstream, he figures. When Fireheart and Brightpaw return home, he decides to speak with Bluestar. He catches her alone in her den, and asks what will happen to Graystripe now. Bluestar says she isn’t sure yet, that she must discuss it with her senior warriors. Fireheart suddenly insists his best friend couldn’t help himself, being with Silverstream. Bluestar understands. Fireheart knows, and asks if it’s because of her affair with Oakheart. At first Bluestar seems mad, then she admits defeat. She confesses she had once been mates with the Riverclan cat Oakheart, and had kits with him. Fireheart asks why she gave Mistyfoot and Stonefur up, yet kept Mosscloud in Thunderclan. Bluestar explains what happened.

She had an affair with Oakheart and had his kits, but the spot for deputy was about to open due to the current deputy retiring. However, the clan wouldn’t want a queen with three needy kits as deputy. And another cat with vicious intents was competing for the position as well. So Bluestar went to give her kits to Oakheart. But one, Mosskit, was too weak to make it to the river, muchless to Riverclan itself. So Oakheart took the stronger kits with him, and Bluestar took Mosskit home. With only one, less needy kit to look after, Bluestar was able to make deputy, and her other kits were able to have successful lives with plenty of food and care that were scarcer to find in Thunderclan during the time.

Bluestar says she’s telling Fireheart all of this only due to his discoveries, and because she feels at least some cat should know the truth. Not even Mosscloud knows her littermates are alive, and that her father is not Thrushpelt. Fireheart promises not to tell anyone. After this, Bluestar dismisses him so she can speak with Tigerclaw. Fireheart joins Graystripe back in the medicine den. The kits have been moved to be with Silverstream. Fireheart sits beside his best friend, admiring them. The little tom is gray like his father, with tabby stripes which look almost like lightning bolts-Fireheart can’t help but be reminded of Crookedstar’s tabby markings when looking at them. The mollykit is silver like her mother, with a darker colored stripe starting from her forehead to her tail. On her tail the stripe brances off into many stripes, looking like veins on a feather. Graystripe proudly announces the kits’ names: Stormkit and Featherkit

Day turns to night, an almost half moon showing ahead. A meeting has been called, with a Riverclan patrol in attendance. Leopardfur and Mistyfoot are among them. In the crowd, Fireheart can hear chatting, some of which being from Willowpelt who announces to Mousefur that she’s expecting another litter. Every cat’s attention is drawn towards Highrock after a few more moments. Bluestar says there are two things to announce tonight: an apprentice ceremony and Graystripe’s trial. Bluestar gets the ceremony out of the way first. Bluestar gives Cloudpaw to Frostfur, since she is patient and can teach the young cat to hunt even with a snowy white coat. Ashpaw is given to Dustpelt. And Fernpaw is given to Darkstripe.

After that’s done, Bluestar calls Graystripe forward. She accuses him of being disloyal for many moons, neglecting his apprentice, and ignoring warrior duties. Tigerclaw has also informed her that he’d refused to fight Riverclan. Bluestar asks where Graystripe’s loyalties lie, what side does he choose? Graystripe admits he just wants to be with Silverstream and his kits. And if Thunderclan will not keep him and let him have his family, then he’d be happier moving to Riverclan. Leopardfur says her clan will take him, but he will be held on probation for a while to make sure he’ll make a good Riverclan cat. Fireheart is flabbergasted. After the meeting ends, he pulls Graystripe aside. He begs him not to go, not to leave him in the clan alone. But Graystripe tells him no Thunderclan cat will want him here now. Plus Silverstream needs him, the kits need him. And Fireheart isn’t alone, he has Ravenpaw, Sandstorm, Cinderpath, Brightpaw, and Cloudpaw. Fireheart cries it isn’t the same thing, none of them are him. His relationship with the other cats isn’t the same. But Graystripe won’t hear it. Fireheart offers to at least let him walk with him to stepping stones. Graystripe agrees

The Riverclan patrol leaves Thunderclan camp. Silverstream is carrying Stormkit, and Graystripe has Featherkit. The patrol crosses the river without hesitation, but Graystripe stops. Silverstream waits for him on the opposite bank. Graystripe puts Featherkit down at his paws so he can nuzzle his face into Fireheart’s fur. He promises to see him at gatherings, and to tell him how the kits are doing whenever he gets a chance. Fireheart tells Graystripe how much he’ll miss him, and that even if Thunderclan thinks he’s terrible, Fireheart still thinks he’s the best. Graystripe thanks him and finally mews his last goodbye. He picks up his daughter and carries her with him across stepping stones. Fireheart yowls Graystripe’s name one last time in sorrow as the gray tom disappears behind some reeds with Silverstream and the kits

A half moon passes. Fireheart managed to convince Frostfur to let him take Cloudpaw hunting with him and Brightpaw. In reality they’re going to see Princess. As they make their way there, Cloudpaw smells other cats, rouges and kittypets, and Fireheart swears he can smell Tigerclaw’s scent too. He doesn’t say anything, however, and leads the apprentices to Twolegplace. Princess is sitting on the fence as they approach and she happily greets the Thunderclan cats. She’s surprised to see a new cat with them, and is thrilled to realize that this cat is her daughter. Mother and daughter reunite while Fireheart speaks with his sister. He asks her if she’s seen any strange cats. She says she’s heard some outside at night but has never seen any. Seeing that Princess is getting upset at the thought of nasty strangers, Fireheart has Cloudpaw and Brightpaw change the subject. After sunhigh, he calls the apprentices home. Before they leave, Cloudpaw asks her mother to come with them. But Princess says no, but maybe someday she will. With that, the Thunderclan cats return home

Fireheart returns near Twolegplace with Brightpaw the next day to hunt. Brightpaw comes back from up ahead to tell Fireheart she’s spotted Tigerclaw near Twolegplace. Both cats are concerned and decide to sneak over and see if they can find out what the deputy’s up to. Tigerclaw is with a group of rouges, rallying them amd riling them up. They’re all so distracted they don’t notice the Thunderclan spies. But Fireheart realizes what’s going on. Tigerclaw is leading a raid on Thunderclan camp. Fireheart and Brightpaw make it home in time to join the battle. Fireheart follows Tigerclaw right into Bluestar’s den. The deputy has her cornered, and tells her to say her prayers. Bluestar is confused and Tigerclaw says he’s going to kill her over and over as many times as it takes for her lives to be spent.

Fireheart attacks Tigerclaw, clawing him and sending him running into the clearing. Tigerclaw turns to fight him. Cinderpath is out there when Fireheart emerges, wondering what’s going on. He shouts that Tigerclaw’s tried to kill Bluestar, that he’s the one who’s led this raid. Cinderpath becomes enraged, attacking the tabby tom. She holds him down, and Fireheart helps with the battle

Riverclan arrives to Thunderclan camp with Sandstorm’s patrol, helping them drive out the rouges. Fireheart thanks them as they leave, scanning the crowd as they go, looking for the familiar pelt of Graystripe. But he isn’t there and Fireheart is disappointed. But right now there’s more pressing matters to worry about. Fireheart goes to check on Bluestar who’s emerged from her den now to hold a meeting. She shaken up and bleeding from a head wound but overall she seems ok enough. Bluestar declares Tigerclaw is a prisoner now for trying to kill her. Dustpelt and Darkstripe pipe that they don’t believe its true. Longtail shrinks back, looking to his mate for comfort at the revelation that one of his best friends is a traitor and an almost murderer. Cats wonder what’s going on. Bluestar commands Fireheart to tell the clan all that he knows. Fireheart calls to Cinderpath and the newly named Ravensong for help explaining Tigerclaw’s deviousness. Mosscloud wonders aloud how Tigerclaw would ever think they’d accept him as leader for killing Bluestar. Fireheart explains its probably why Tigerclaw brought this raid upon the camp. So he could blame the rouges for Bluestar’s murder and become clan leader in her place. He may have even tried to make himself out to be a hero for it. The clan breaks into an outcry, demanding justice be served.

Bluestar sentences Tigerclaw to exile. Tigerclaw declares he’ll be a leader someday somehow, and any cat who follows him now will be well looked after. He looks towards Darkstripe who avoids his gaze. He says he’s upset Tigerclaw didn’t tell him what he was planning, so he won’t go with him. Then Tigerclaw looks to Dustpelt who bristles, snarling at him. Finally he looks at Longtail and Fireheart stiffens. Longtail stands tall, baring his icy blue gaze into his friend’s. He stares for a good heartbeat. Then he growls menacingly at Tigerclaw saying “no, I will never join you. I am loyal only to Thunderclan, not treacherous murderers,” then turns with Mosscloud to go check on their kits in the nursery. Fireheart feels unimaginable relief that his mentor has turned his back on Tigerclaw at last.

Bluestar demands Tigerclaw leave now at once. Tigerclaw hesitates a moment long enough to threaten the clan, and especially Fireheart, before the clan’s senior warriors chase him from the camp. When he’s gone, the clan turns to ask Bluestar who’ll be the new deputy. Cloudpaw elects her uncle Fireheart for the job. Darkstripe sneers in disgust at the idea and Cloudpaw snaps at him about being prejudice. Fireheart says he doesn’t want to be deputy anyways, or even think Bluestar would choose him. He turns to talk to Ravensong about how some cats ate handling their wounds. Ravensong says he nerds more herbs. Fireheart volunteers to get some. In the den he spies Yellowfang with Brokentail, tending to his wounds. Fireheart watches as she pushes a few red berries towards the blind old cat, realizing what they are. Yellowfang speaks with Brokentail as he consumes them, reminding him how he and Shadowclan had driven her out. That Thunderclan with time could have learned to trust and care for him, as they’ve done with her. Brokentail says he doesn’t care and Yellowfang says she knows he cares for nothing, not even kin. Not even for her, his own mother. Brokentail is in disbelief learning this. Yellowfang then says as the one who created him, created this monster, she is the one who will end him. Brokentail is confused for a moment before he starts choking. He asks what he’s been fed and Yellowfang tells him: deathberries. After a few moments of struggle Brokentail lays still, and Yellowfang hangs her head. The ex-Shadowclan leader is dead

That night, Fireheart dreams of Redtail. The stars in his pelt seem to glow brighter than usual, as if the tom had regained part of himself. Had it been because FIreheart had revealed the truth? After a few quiet moments, Redtail spoke up. “Starclan is calling you.” Fireheart wakes up after this, for fear of the former deputy warning him about his possible upcoming demise. To rid himself of the thought, Fireheart goes out into the clearing. Surprisingly the whole clan is there. They’re all worried since it is past moonhigh and no cat has been chosen for the next deputy. Now they’re all waiting to see what Bluestar will do. Bluestar finally comes from her den. She slowly and in a rather emotionless way announces the new deputy will be Fireheart. Fireheart feels uneasy at this decision knowing that he’d hardly a warrior yet, that there were so many better choices. But he’s the one who’s Bluestar picked. Sandstorm nuzzles Fireheart affectionately, Cinderpath hobbles over to cover his face with licks. Ravensong softly congratulates his friend while Cloudpaw cheers loudly with pride for her kin. But none of this encouragement calms Firehear’s nerves. He glances at the sky towards Silverpelt, wondering if this was what Redtail meant.

[laurelsofhighever]

Chapters: 44/? Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins Chapter Rating: Teen Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining Summary:  Rosslyn, escorting the disgraced Orlesians to the border, comes across the last person she wants to see.

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Twenty-eighth day of Harvestmere, 9:32 Dragon

The column of riders travelled through a blue morning, past stands of drooping larch and white-trunked birch whose leaves were already shivering into their autumn colours. The troopers’ breaths feathered in the thin mountain air, their mounts steaming from the exertion of treading the steep, winding road of Gherlen’s Pass. Rosslyn, at the company’s head, forced herself to sit easy in the saddle. She smiled, and she made small conversation, listening to Baudrillard's prattling with the same detached attention she gave the storm clouds receding over the northern horizon. He was all charm and grace, as if he hadn’t loomed close and threatened her only days before, as if this long march weren’t merely a formality to kicking him out of Ferelden like a chastised cur. His troopers were mixed in ranks with hers, all in travelling leathers with their armour loaded onto packhorses, with Morrence overseeing the baggage train and Gideon up front with one nonchalant hand on the hilt of his sword. Every so often he passed a glance sideways, his mouth pulled into a grim line. It had set that way in the conversation they had shared before setting out from Ridderby, and would likely remain until the last Orlesian was seen smartly over the border.

“Your Ladyship seems rather quiet this morning,” Baudrillard observed from behind the grin of his mask. “I hope you are not dwelling too much on the prospect of a war without the aid of my chevaliers?”

Rosslyn blinked. “The scenery is spectacular this far into the mountains, don’t you agree?”

“A lady of your standing in Orlais would not be so impressed by these mere vistas,” he scoffed. “But the culture that lies at the end of the road – now that is the true treasure. I call it a great shame that Fereldan education is so insular, their nobility so little travelled.”

“Perhaps our education opens our eyes to the value of our own country, so that we don’t feel the need to stray from it like swine left unattended in the orchard.”

She allowed herself a smirk at the placating chuckle he sent her way, and kept her disgust buried deep, with the memory of her orders wrapped around it in bands of glowing iron. When she had called her most trusted officers to a back room of the Crown Inn the morning before, she had done so with the likelihood of a betrayal heavy on her mind.

“What I am about to ask of you cannot leave these walls,” she had said. “Do I have your assurances?”

Across the scrubbed table, Gideon, Morrence, and Lieutenant Hobbs all nodded. Their gazes flickered to the three envelopes she had laid out before them, each one sealed in the blue wax sigil of the Laurels. Outside, the raucous crow of the inn’s cockerel answered the first peek of light through the shuttered window, and the stirring of their company.

“The heart of the matter is I do not trust Baudrillard or his men to keep faith with our orders from the king,” she told them, her hand curled around Talon’s pommel.

Gideon huffed. “Bloody sensible, in my opinion.”

“Then you agree there’s a chance he could turn on us once we reach the pass.” She swallowed, brushed fingers over a fourth letter tucked into her belt. “If Orlais decides to take advantage of this war then there’s no telling what horrors we might have to face, and for my life I would not see this land under their thumb again.” With a sigh, she pulled out a scrolled map of Gherlen’s Pass and laid it open, following the path they would take with the sheathed point of her dagger. “I will be riding at the front, with our troopers riding in parallel columns behind with his chevaliers, and the supply carts in the middle. Gideon, you will be with me, while you, Morrence, will bring up the rear. Hobbs, you must be in your usual place, as if nothing is out of the ordinary. This should make for a more even fight if he orders an attack, but even so I will likely be the first person he targets.”

“Your Ladyship –”

She held up a hand. “If this happens, Hobbs, you must break away. Take this letter to Loghain with all speed – make sure it reaches him.” The paper weighed in her palm before she passed it to the man whose life she had saved at Wythenshawe. “It’s an offer of settlement, informing him about Baudrillard’s betrayal and Highever’s change of allegiance to Queen Anora, on the condition that Highever’s lands be ceded to Bann Alfstanna of Waking Sea. The second is also for you, to take to Alfstanna. My will is already made up, but this confirms the details.”

“I –” Hobbs nodded. “I’ll see it done, Ma’am.”

“Morrence, this one is for His Majesty, with the same details, but also with an enjoinder to have him make peace with Loghain. You will see he receives it.”

Gideon sucked in his cheeks as she proffered the third envelope to her guard-captain. “This is treason, lass. We’ll all get it in the neck if you get caught.”

“No, you won’t,” she answered. “If questioned, you did not know what these letters contained – I didn’t tell you. If there is any blame to be had, it will be mine alone.” She offered them a rueful shrug. “Since I’ll likely be dead by that point, it won’t much matter.”

“You can’t –!”

“The goal is to prevent Orlais becoming a greater threat to this land than the one already dividing it,” she snapped. “I expect you all to do your duty, as you have since Glenlough.”

“And if things don’t go wrong, and Baudrillard minds his manners?” Gideon asked.

“Then you burn them.” Her chin lifted. “Can I count on you?”

“Aye.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Next to the others, Morrence remained silent, chewing her lip as her weight shifted between her feet, her eyes on the paper in her hands. Rosslyn’s expression contracted into a scowl, and she nodded at the men to leave.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, once Gideon had shut the door behind him.

Morrence shook her head. “You’re going too far this time.”

“My duty is –”

“Fuck duty, you almost sound like you want that bastard to kill you, and what happens then? Do you think any of us want to follow Loghain? Do you think Bann Alfstanna could make us?”

“I’d expect you to do what’s best for Highever,” Rosslyn retorted.

“You haven’t been this akka since Deerswall.” The accusation came with a long, hard stare that flirted with insubordination. “And I know it’s not just that mess at South Reach that’s set you wrong.”

“Is this a way of saying you’re not going to follow my orders?”

“I wasn’t aware I had to follow orders that were such utter bollocks!”

“Then I’ll find someone who will!”

Silence fell like the aftermath of an avalanche as the two women glared at each other. After a moment, Rosslyn turned and pushed away from the table to lean instead against the mantelpiece, a frustrated growl at the back of her throat, with time slipping out of their grasp and the threat from Orlais too great to be ignored.

“I don’t want to die,” she finally admitted to the unstirred embers. “But if I don’t survive I have to ensure my people are safe, whatever may be said of me afterwards. And… I don’t want to have to find another captain.”

Morrence, arms folded, rolled her eyes. “We’d better bloody hope Baudrillard has more sense than we give him credit for, then. Who’s that last letter for?” she added, with a jut of her chin.

Rosslyn’s fingers once more brushed over the envelope tucked out of the way. Her breath stuttered. “It’s for His Highness.” She pulled the crisp paper from her belt with trembling fingers, eyeing the personal blue seal of the Falcon as she ran her palm along the edges, almost as if she were considering tossing it into the fire. “It… explains things.”

“Should I take it for safekeeping, then? In case? I promise I haven’t forgotten everything about being a messenger.”

A start, and a nod, and Rosslyn has shaken herself back into her role as general. They had set out soon after that, a cohort of soldiers clattering in the dawn, with nothing to see them on the road to the mountains except locked windows and barred doors. As far as could be gleaned, the news of what had happened at South Reach hadn’t travelled past Lake Calenhad, but Orlesians were mistrusted wherever they went, even in Ridderby where so much over the overland trade was concentrated. In all, it was a relief to reach the foothills of the Frostbacks and put the scrutiny of the last villages behind them, and if Rosslyn had spent the previous night in uneasy slumber with a doubled guard for extra security, the fatigue was worth being within spitting distance of the border, and the last she would ever have to see of Lucien Baudrillard de Lot-sur-Mainne.

Ahead, the pass narrowed into a canyon, the sides tall and sheer enough to make lateral movement difficult, and even better to corral an enemy with a rockfall and make slaughter look like an accident. Sensing the change in her mood, Lasan tossed his head and whickered nervously, but she patted his neck to keep him calm. Talon was in the saddle sheath by her left knee, and with Baurillard riding on her right, she could draw it and sweep around to meet an attack in one fluid motion, then use the time it bought her to retaliate. She had confidence in her troopers. She had surprise.

She squinted against the sun. A cloud of dust was rising between the canyon walls, blowing down the road towards them, obscuring whatever was causing it.

“Friends of yours?” she asked Baudrillard.

“None of mine,” he replied with a shrug that wobbled his feathered helm. “Bandits perhaps?”

A heartbeat passed in which she worried he was lying, but she could not afford the accusation, not unless she wanted to risk a confrontation on two sides. Calling a halt, she waited while troopers and chevaliers both fanned out behind her in a defensive arc, still with Morrence at the very rear under the pretence of guarding their baggage. Gideon already had his glass pressed against one eye.

“Riders,” he grunted after a moment. “Too dusty to make out colours, but they’ve seen us – they’ve called a halt, looks like they’re sending someone out.”

Rosslyn turned in the saddle and called for her standard bearer, and for one of her troopers to ride with him.

“Would it not be more prudent to send mine with yours?” Baudrillard asked, eyeing the banner as it fluttered in the wind.

“No.”

The horses fidgeted as the two envoys spurred away. They met the oncoming herald with a salute and reined in, and stood talking together with the occasional gesture back up or down the hill. The stranger should have had a banner of their own, but aside from a flash of red on their surcoat, there was no sign of allegiance.

“Gideon?”

“Here they come.”

Rosslyn turned in time to see her standard bearer salute again and wheel his mount away from the meeting, and counted the strides with her own heartbeat as he came up. Lasan sidestepped and tossed his head.

“Who is it, Maddow?” she asked as the man reined to a halt in front of her.

“It’s His Highness, and the rest of ‘em as went with ‘im.”

Her stomach dropped. Sweat gathered on her palms. How could he be here now, when she absolutely did not want to see him, or to deal with her feelings when she already had to deal with Baudrillard? His marriage agreement might already be set down in the Shaperate, and she would have to congratulate him for it, stand tall against the pain twisting in her gut that already wanted her to vomit. Necessity had put her last letter out of her mind; she had strangled all her inclinations under work and harsh self-reflection, but now they crowded back like weeds reaching for the sun, threatening to twine their way through her lungs and choke her. If she had had just one day, just one more day to gather herself…

She straightened, defiant of her dry mouth and feeling like curdled milk in her stomach. Lady let me weather this, let him be nothing to me, let me endure like the fathomless sea.

“Why aren’t they flying the War Dogs?” she asked.

Maddow shrugged. “Seems as they didn’t think they’d meet anyone this far up.”

She could delay no more. At least the added numbers would reduce any chance of ambush, but she disliked the way Baudrillard was watching her. “It seems, Monsieur, that you will have an ever more prestigious escort to see you back to your own lands. Shall we?”

“Delighted, Your Ladyship,” he answered, without even a hint of sourness. “I grieved not being able to say my farewells to His Highness in person.”

She forced herself to think of practicalities as she led the march forward, even though she caught the ripple at her back as the news of their new companions filtered through the ranks. Not all of the muttering held a favourable air, but she made no move to quell it. The walk across the valley stretched time, leaving her breathing space to set her noble’s mask in place, to practice her greeting in her head so she wouldn’t be caught off guard.

None of it mattered. Alistair looked paler for having been underground so long, his eyes narrowed at the brightness of the day, his hair shorter, his clothes of a richer cut than looked comfortable, but it was him. The line of his nose and the broadness of his shoulders were the same, and he sat his gelding with the same worried stiffness she had failed to coax out of his riding posture at Lothering. She tore her gaze away, heart pulsing in confusion as she caught sight of her bracers on his wrists. Of course, they were a gift, given freely; he could wear them as he chose.

Eamon rode next to him, and on his other side, Captain Mhairi, with the two score of royal guard who had followed him to Orzammar in a mass at his horse’s tail. No sign of dwarven soldiers, she noted, though there might be a dozen reasons for that. As they approached, Alistair kicked his horse into a reluctant trot and came forward, raising a hand in greeting as Eamon and Mhairi followed him. Rosslyn’s chest clenched too harshly to look him in the face.

“Hail to Her Ladyship, the Teyrna of Highever.” The formal greeting belonged to Eamon.

“And the same to you my lords,” she replied, relieved by the formality. “This is an unexpected meeting.”

“There was a storm,” Alistair blurted. “It delayed us and then blocked the northern path towards White River, otherwise we would have set off days ago, and probably missed you. I – I’m glad we didn’t.”

His gaze stung, and hers skittered away from him. “I wasn’t aware your business in Orzammar had concluded.”

“Circumstances changed,” he told her, in a voice that held a tremor she didn’t like. He looked to Eamon, who had taken on the air of an offended cat, but her sense of decorum baulked at probing further into the tension between them. The change must have been sudden indeed to pull them from the dwarven capital.

“Have you orders from His Majesty?” she asked, as evenly as she could.

“The understanding was –”

“No,” Alistair interrupted. “No, we don’t. Perhaps… we could come with you?”

The words were delivered with such hope, with a tiny reassuring smile, that it mocked her for all she had suffered. Something very much like contempt slithered across her skin, gnawed its way through the hollow of her ribs to wriggle in her belly.

“Your arrival is in good time, actually.” She nodded brightly to the mercenary captain at her side. “We had planned to make the border by sundown and rest at the waymark for the night before going our separate ways in the morning, but if you wouldn’t mind waiting here and setting up an encampment, we might travel lightly and be there and back before tomorrow.”

Less time in Baudrillard’s company; less time in Alistair’s. A whole stretch with nothing but the road and the clean air and the power of her horse beneath her, when she could forget the king’s plans for him and escape the poison of the shadows in her mind. Had he given in, and caved to the advantage of a political match? She couldn’t believe it. Had he fallen for the Aeducan princess? Forgotten about her? Had her letters even been opened before they were thrown on the fire? He wore a frown now, even as Eamon agreed to her idea and set the first orders for a camp to be laid along the road. It was an expression she feared to read, and pretended she hadn’t seen at all as he swallowed and once more raised his eyes to hers. His horse tossed its head as he urged it in her direction.

“Hey. Um,” he ventured, once she had passed orders to Gideon to get the commotion proper underway. “So, this is unexpected.”

She wanted rid of the charm of his voice. “I believe this topic was covered already.”

“So it was. I must have been…” He coughed. “It’s… How are you?”

Incredulous, she turned to stare at him. Damn his tawny eyes. Damn his months of silence, and the ranks of undead at South Reach, and the wearing, and the waiting, and the triumphant look on Cailan’s face as he read over Arl Eamon’s letters at breakfast and declared them promising. She should be screaming. She should fling in his face very foul thing she had endured, every moment of stoic silence when she had reached out for him and found only emptiness waiting for her.

“I am well,” she lied.

He looked like he might argue, but thought better of it, and scraped a hand through his hair. “Look, I… Maker’s breath, I thought I’d have longer to work out what to say –”

“And would you say it in front of an audience of mercenaries and common soldiery?”

The lash in her words made him flinch, and a cruel part of her crowed triumph at the hurt she inflicted, the pain that had writhed for months in the pit of her stomach like a living thing. But her courage broke. She could not afford to lose control, not here. Her eyes stung and her throat seared and her blood dragged through her chest like molten lead, but she squared her shoulders nonetheless.

“Excuse me, I must attend my captain.”

“Rosslyn –”

Her name. The desperation of it froze through her veins like lightning, a cruel perversion of all her dared imaginings, but the wind whipped it away as she gave Lasan his head and cantered the length of the line, her dog at her side. Already, the carts had been pulled into their resting formation with the breaks applied under their wheels, the mallets and stakes brought out with the canvas to set up the picket lines, teams sent out with hatchets to gather firewood for the cooking pits. Each trooper had an assigned duty. They worked together like oiled clockworks, and when the royal guard offered their help, they were folded into the routine with a discipline born of long practice, though there were sullen grumbles and steely glares as Rosslyn’s soldiers made plain their condemnation of the perceived slight against her.

“Have you come to talk to us, or to avoid talking to someone else?” Leliana chuckled as Lasan pulled up beside Morrence. The lay sister had joined them in place of one of Mother Berit’s appointees, as both minister and translator for the chevaliers, at least officially, and she stood openly beside Highever’s captain, hand in hand, their horses dozing behind them despite the chaos of building camp.

Rosslyn dismounted, then led Lasan round to close the circle and hide their conversation from interested ears. “I’m leaving Gideon in charge here, and you’ll be my second up to the waymark,” she told Morrence. “Once the chevaliers are over the hill, I’ll need a small group to follow them – discreetly – to make sure they don’t double back.”

“Good thing I was going to volunteer anyway, then,” Morrence drawled, and cleared her throat. “You know, I could punch him for you – if you like.”

“And lose my best captain to treason charges?” Rosslyn sighed and absently scratched at Cuno’s ears. “I can’t face him yet. It’s been… I – I thought I’d have more time.” She cursed the catch in her voice.

“You cannot avoid him forever,” Leliana counselled, with a sympathetic look. “Sometimes a pain is worse because we let it fester.”

“And sometimes it teaches us we were fools from the start.” She sighed. “I don’t mean to take that out on you. We’ll set off at noon, then hopefully we can be done with this sorry business for good.”

-----

The thunder of hoofbeats didn’t echo back to the camp until after the sun had set. Night came quickly in the mountains, and with the moons yet to rise, only the watchfires set by the scouts warded in the last of the bleeding light. Dogs barked as Rosslyn’s company clattered beyond the first row of tents, while horses neighed from the picket lines and a few gruff voices sounded out of the dark to welcome her back. When she dismounted in front of the central pavilion, marked with the standard of the War Dog buried into the dirt, Gideon was waiting for her. She pressed the envelopes she had taken back from Morrence into his hands, disguised as a handshake so the guard on watch couldn’t see.

“I’ve seen to the rest an’ all,” he assured her. “No problems, then?”

“He was charming to the very end,” she answered. “A shame, really. I might have felt better if I’d had the chance to run him through.”

“Might you feel better to know yon prince was looking after the road like a lost puppy for nigh on half the day?”

“What His Highness does with his time is his own concern,” she snapped.

Her guard-commander held up his hands. “Reckon that’s me telt, then. They’re waiting inside.”

The royal guard held open the canvas flap for her and she thanked him with a nod, fisting her hand into Cuno’s ruff in an attempt to quell her nerves. The space inside was well lit, and set out much like her own quarters, with half the tent open for meeting guests, partitioned from the sleeping side by an embroidered curtain, and a thick rug covering the floor to stop the ground beneath churning into mud. Alistair and Eamon, changed out of their thicker travelling clothes, stood beside a broad trestle table laid with maps of Lake Calenhad and northern Ferelden, with a little box of markers yet to be added. They both looked up when she was announced. Alistair smiled at her. Her heart lurched in her chest.

“Ah, Your ladyship,” Eamon interrupted. “Glad to see you’ve returned. I trust everything went well?”

“We’ll find out soon enough if it hasn’t,” she replied.

“We were just trying to work out where to go next,” Alistair offered. His weight shifted towards her but he held back, only reaching out a cautious hand for Cuno to sniff. She watched out of the corner of her eye as the dog jerked away from the greeting, a line of fur rigid along his back as a low growl started in his throat.

“I don’t know where His Majesty intended to head after South Reach,” she told them, ignoring the behaviour. “But considering our successes in the south and west, there’s very little ground left to cover.” The only strongholds Loghain had left were in Denerim itself, where he held the landscape, and the fortresses along the northern coast that Howe had claimed as his own. Of its own volition, her gaze wandered to the dot that marked Highever’s place, still out of reach. They had the central Bannorn, but with support from Amaranthine, the walls of Castle Cousland might hold out against a siege longer than they could afford. Perhaps if Deerswall fell to them, gave them a spearpoint with which to strike the Bear’s flank…

“If my nephew is wise, he will want to strike the head from the dragon as soon as possible,” Eamon said.

“Teyrna Cousland is commander-in-chief of the army. It’s her decision.”

“It’s nobody’s decision alone, not until we’re all able to consult,” she corrected. It burned to have him so close, too bright to look at. Pins and needles danced across her skin, and her fists clenched against the need to lean into his warmth, to fold around him and never let go, but she was too proud, and it was no longer her place. She turned to Eamon. “I know what you’re thinking, my lord. I do want to retake Highever. The tactical advantages of doing so are considerable, and I have insider knowledge that could aid with strategy, but the priority is to return to His Majesty’s side as soon as possible. Hopefully he has been able to quell the remaining banns to his side so we can focus all our strength on Howe and Loghain – wherever we choose to face them.”

The arl nodded. “In that case, I suggest we make for Aeylesbide with all speed. If we receive other orders in the meantime, we can change our plans.”

“Has anyone sent a raven to Cailan to tell him Baudrillard has left Ferelden?” Alistair asked.

“One of my runners is seeing to it.”

She could feel his eyes on her. “You always think of everything.”

“Not always. We should plan for the morning.” She gritted her teeth. “Are we to expect reinforcements from Orzammar?”

“No, we –”

“Committing soldiers to our cause was never part of the arrangement with King Bhelen,” Eamon interrupted, and again a spark of tension passed between the two men that she did not fully understand.

“Then matters are concluded there?”

Alistair frowned. “For now, but –”

“In that case, our travel back to Ridderby should be faster,” she said. “This is the trail we took on the way here.”

Fatigue quickly caught up with Rosslyn after that. Her eyes stayed fixed on the map on the table, she forced her mind to focus on numbers and patterns of troop movements, but the mountain nights turned cold so far into the year, and despite the brazier and the oiled canvas of the pavilion, her feet soon lost all circulation and she had to tuck her hands under her armpits to keep the feeling in them. Her own bed was so close, the layers of furs hopefully warmed with the heat rune her maid had thought to purchase at Lakehead, and best of all, retreating to it would mean she could finally get away from Alistair.  A long night’s sleep, and she could start to put her feelings behind her. She could endure. She would.

“Perhaps we should call it a night,” he suggested when she finally succumbed to a yawn. “There’s nothing more here we can’t discuss later.”

His sympathy grated. “I’m fine.”

“Actually, I was thinking Eamon could do with turning in. This mountain weather can’t be good for your joints, my lord.”

“I would not put petty comforts before my duty,” the arl replied with a frown.

“That doesn’t sound right,” Alistair mused, tilting his chin as if the idea puzzled him. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ve dismissed you. You can leave.”

For an instant, the old man’s mouth twisted, like he was struggling to contain a reprimand for such a disrespectful tone. Rosslyn found herself hoping for it, even through her flash of pride at seeing Alistair stand his ground, because without Eamon, she had no excuse not to look at the man she loved. If she looked at him, she would want to kiss him. Tired as she was, she would do it, and dishonour them both, and shatter whatever small pieces were left of her heart.

But Eamon did not come to her rescue. He bowed and left with a muttered As His Highness wishes, and in the silence that followed, the wind ruffled over the thin roof, surrounding them with the muted noises of the settling camp.

“I should… probably go as well,” she tried, already backing away. Cuno padded ahead of her. “It’s late, and we’ll need to start early in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Rosslyn, wait.”

“Please don’t.” Her hand rested on the canvas flap. Freedom so close. “Just give me one day. I’m tired. Just – just one day.”

His footsteps behind her. “No, it’s not –”

Cuno yelped. She followed the sound out into the night before Alistair’s hand could close on her shoulder and found her dog in the mud, biting his leg and whimpering.

“What happened?” she demanded of the guard who had been standing watch.

“Not sure, Your Ladyship,” he answered. “One moment he was fine, and the next he jumped and started biting hisself.”

She tried to push the dog’s muzzle away from his leg so she could examine it, but he fussed against her hands and cried louder, pulling himself away from her touch. There was something caught in his mouth. She grabbed his jaw and fished for whatever it was with the same practiced movements she had used when he was a puppy invested in her mother’s socks, doing her best to soothe him with quiet words as her fingers wrapped around the object.

“A bur?” It was crushed, and coated in saliva, but it looked like some kind of seed pod, with the top of the stalk broken off. She tossed it aside when Cuno started shaking. “It’s going to be alright, boy.”

“Rosslyn? What’s happening?”

“I don’t –”

Cuno turned and vomited, spilling bile over the grass. Air rasped in his throat. He wobbled, then collapsed on his side with his limbs still shaking, insensible to the sound of her voice.

“Cuno?” She looked up, wild-eyed, and found Alistair. “Help me.”

“We’ll take him to the horsemaster,” he promised. “Help me with his legs.”

Together they lifted the dog, Alistair with his front half, with his head carefully pointed down in case he threw up again, and Rosslyn following with her arm hoisted around his back legs. There was a spot swelling on his haunch; it felt hot to the touch and bled a little, taking up all her attention. Alistair had already called for the horsemaster by the time she realised they were at the picket lines, and he had to drag her away as the man ran his hands over the patient, checking for symptoms.

“What happened?” he asked.

“There was –” She swallowed. “He yelped, and I came out to find him… There’s something on his flank – there.”  

“How quickly did his condition deteriorate?”

“Moments. I – I didn’t know what to do. He’ll be alright?”

The horsemaster glanced at her. “The malady looks like a snake bite, but this wound – that’s no snake I ever saw.”

“There was something – a bur, it looked like – it was in Cuno’s mouth. He’d chewed it.”

“This puncture looks like it was made by a syringe, or a dart. You there!” he called, and a moment later, Leliana emerged from further down the line, slices of apple still held in her open palm.

“What’s happened?” she asked.

“Go to the healer and get me merrybud oil and blue charcoal,” he commanded, already dashing to his cart to rummage through his own medicines. “Quickly!”

“Will he be alright?” Rosslyn demanded again.

The horsemaster pulled out a syringe and a vial of clear liquid, then leaned down to check the dog’s breathing. “The next few hours will tell. Horses are my speciality, but I’ll try my best.” He shot her a sympathetic look. “You should go and get some rest, Ma’am, there’s nowt more you can do here.”

“What? No! I should be here, I should –”

“Victims of snake bites need to be kept calm and still so the venom doesn’t spread,” the horsemaster interrupted. “You being anxious isn’t going to help him. He needs quiet, Ma’am. I’ll stay with him, and send a runner when he’s past the worst.”

“But…”

“I can stay with him,” Alistair offered. She had forgotten he was there. His gaze was steady on hers as he reached out for her, his hand solid and warm on her shoulder, imparting a calm even more powerful for how much she had missed it. With a sigh, and a final glance towards Cuno, she nodded. The smile he gave her tried to be reassuring, but for the briefest instant she saw his eyes flicker down to her mouth. She retreated from his touch.

He cleared his throat and called for the guard. “Giles can escort you safely.”

“I can find my way through my own camp –”

“But this way no one will bother you.” He grinned, though it was brittle. “And it also means you won’t get sidetracked by anything other than going straight to bed.”

She didn’t have the energy to argue with him, or to joke. “Fine.”

Still, the order to follow Giles left her mind free to wander. By the time she was left alone in her pavilion, the idea of a snake bite being responsible for Cuno’s suffering seemed more than far-fetched. At such a high altitude, at night, in the middle of an army camp, a snake would be a rare find indeed, and the guard hadn’t seen one. Perhaps the bur she had found would have helped make sense of everything, but she would never find it now. If she hadn’t been so foolish as to throw it away… but focussing on that at least kept her mind away from the other possibility, that the horsemaster didn’t really know what was wrong, or had missed something, and was treating the wrong symptoms.

She sighed as her maid helped her out of her armour and placed Talon on its stand, dismissing her with a wave as she climbed into bed. The pillows were fluffed and the blankets had been warmed, inviting her weary body to sleep. She pulled her dagger from its sheath to place in easy reach under her head, but paused as the light from the lyrium glowstone gleamed against the intricate metalwork on the hilt. Had Alistair noticed that she still carried the Rose’s Thorn? In a flare of guilt, she glanced to the small chest on her desk, where she kept his mother’s amulet. She had almost broken it the night after the dust at South Reach finally settled, before Duncan came – she had ripped it from around her neck and moved to dash it against the wall, only to let her arm fall limp at her side and shove in a drawer out of sight instead. She had cried herself to sleep that night, and so many other nights, but at least Cuno had been with her.

With a shiver, she put it from her mind and wriggled further under the covers. The sooner she slept, the sooner she could wake and check on her dog’s recovery. She tossed a little and huffed the glowstone’s extinguishing command, forcing the tension out of her muscles as the sounds of the night flowed around her. There were the guards tramping past, and the low hum of conversation by the crackle of sap-wood on the fire. But after a little while there was something else as well that seemed out of place, furtive, a gentle hiss that took a moment to identify. When she did, her blood chilled.

Somebody was slicing a hole through the canvas of her tent.

[wanderingtrails]

September 10, 2017 - Wedgemount Lake

Wedgemount Lake

Elevation gain: 1160m

Distance: 12 km round trip

This is a hike I will never forget: my first solo hike. In no ways did I intend originally to do this hike alone, but I had my heart set on it for two weeks, and in some ways this is the hike that lead me into wanting to continue hiking. I had started this hike late into the day, and knew that there was little chances of anyone starting later than I. This meant that anyone who was already on the trail would be the only people I would encounter. Luckily the parking lot had a decent number of vehicles, so I deemed it to be safe to continue. It wasn’t until about 20 minutes into the actual trail that I met the first group of hikers coming down. From this group I uncovered that I was looking forward to another four hours potentially. Nonetheless, I continued on, playing an Imagine Dragons album on a loop to fill the silence. Although the woodlands the trail wound through were peaceful, my thoughts wandered and projected creatures where there were none. As I started the switchbacks, my legs started to burn and my mind wandered more. By this point I probably looked like a lunatic muttering to myself on the trail. From the mutterings I found motivation to move on.

It wasn’t until quite a while into the hike that I came across the next group of people. A man and a woman heading down. Just as before, I asked them if there were people at the top and how far I might be from the top. The man looked me up and down and told me that it would probably take me two hours to reach the midpoint, the avalanche site, and from there another three hours. He suggested that I turn back around or in the worst case scenario I should turn back around at 3pm. He even mentioned there was a cabin at the top and if I was super determined to reach the peak, I could stay in the cabin and head down in the morning. These were the most discouraging things to hear from a man that looked bored of talking to me and overall disapproving of the trip. From this meeting it only took a little while to reach the rockfall. However, I did not regain my motivation. The man’s words echoed in my mind, and as I walked across the open landscape the idea of walking another three hours was exhausting. 

It was slightly past the midway point that I met a group of three women happily going along. Although I was slightly out of breath, I asked if there were people at the end. They quickly caught on that I was asking because I was alone. With friendly tones, I was given the knowledge that they passed a group heading up about 30 minutes ago. Additionally, when I told them what the man told me, they argued that it would be safe to head back at 4 since there was plenty of daylight and I would not be alone at the peak. I thanked them for this news and trekked on-- well really this was the only flat part of the trail so I ran along it hoping to catch up to the group 30 minutes in front of me. At this point I didn’t realize that 30 minutes meant they were likely an hour ahead, because physics.

The next group of hikers I met were clearly returning from an overnight hike: a pair of men. This by far must have been one of the most amusing interactions I experienced on the hike. “Hey dude, how’s it going?” Was one of their opening lines, this would be the one I would mainly talk to for this interaction. He told me that “you got this” encouraging me to keep going. It ended with him raising a hand for a high-five and saying “yeah dude, have a nice hike.” This guy alone gave me enough reason to carry on. Past this interaction I was greeted by the magnificent views of a 300m tall waterfall-- a truly remarkable thing to experience. Those little moments, and the sliver of a view alone made the trip worth it. I took a ten minute break at this point to catch my breath and enjoy the view before pushing on.

The next pair of hikers I met advised me that I was roughly 40 minutes away from the end, and that once I saw the rocky scramble it meant that I was very close. Sure enough, I entered a boulder field slowly being reclaimed by nature and passed yet another party descending. After a short interaction I flinted off, determined to climb the final rocky ascent. As I departed I heard one of them mention to their friend “I wish I was that enthusiastic about hiking uphill.” Little did they know, I was actually dying internally.

At some point heading up the final rocky scramble, my ipod fell out of the water bottle holder of my backpack. It fell to the ground and got covered in dust, which was not the issue I had-- it was the fact that the headphone jack also had dirt forced into it. Considering how dependent I was on the little nano to get me through the hike, this was not the best moment. I think it helped knowing how close I was that stopped me from panicking.

I do not think I will forget the feeling of coming over the ridge. The immediate cold, and the sense of accomplishment overwhelmed me. I had never seen a glacier-fed lake before, and yet here it was. Nestled between rocky mountainsides, the lake appeared so smooth despite the occasional wind. It was a beautiful sight to see, even more so with the glacier peeking out from the clouds. There were still a few people around, but it felt so calm and quiet. 

I settled on a rock and nibbled at a granola bar to get some energy back. There was a part of me that could not believe what I had just done, how I managed to stumble all the way up to the lake. 

I had convinced some strangers to take photos of me, and in turn I took a group photo of them. Despite loving every minute, I knew I was pushing my turnaround time, and began to make my return.

There was an older gentleman that I had asked to take my photo earlier that was making his descent as well. I figured it would be safer descending the rocky scramble with another individual just in case something happened. Ensnaring the man in conversation, I learned his name was Rob-- a retired business lawyer, who now just travels with his wife and sometimes his kids as well. Given how cold it was by the lake’s water Rob explained that he was just moving a bit lower down the mountain to wait for his family. We ended up chatting a good amount on the descent, he even gave me a good pep talk about how I was still young and it was okay to take life slow.

We parted ways when Rob began talking to a backpacker on his way up to the lake. The backpacker joked how he was looking forward to the intimate night cuddling his water filtration system given how cold it is.

My descent was a lot swifter, and I ended up routinely passing a couple that made their departure from the lake at the same time as me. I also passed by another younger couple that made the comment: “sometimes mistakes are the best moments in life.” Little did I know how accurate that was. I did not expect this hike to impact me so greatly, and I think this is the hike that really got me into being outdoorsy. 

[bbclesmis]

Daily Mail: Sad, saucy and seductive, the Beeb’s non-Musical take on Les Mis is a hit

Gloomy French genius Victor Hugo’s grand masterpiece isn’t called Les Happychaps for a good reason.

Les Miserables (BBC1) opened with an aerial shot of the carnage after the Battle of Waterloo, as ravens pecked the flesh of corpses and the thief Thenardier (Adeel Akhtar) dodged about stealing purses and gold teeth.

Akhtar played it for laughs – and for the next hour, that blood-soaked battlefield was about as light-hearted as things got.

 Video playing bottom right...Click here to expand to full page  'You are the love of my life': Fantine and Felix cuddle in bed      

The classic novel, set in France 200 years ago, is sprawling in scope and bleak in outlook.

The characters are beaten, flogged, crushed by rockfalls, shot, ridden with diseases, betrayed, cheated, starved, deceived, hounded, robbed and deprived of everything they love.

No spoilers, but Les Mis doesn’t have an upbeat ending.

Yet for 30 years the stage version has been a global feelgood success – one that has wonderful music and lyrical moments to make the heart soar.

Nor was it unexpected that Lily Collins played lovestruck Fantine, above, in petticoats and faded dresses, looking every inch the impoverished Parisian seamstress – except for her eyebrows, which were bushy 21st century caterpillars

The challenge for the Beeb is to give us an incentive to watch this despairing six-part non-musical version, starring Dominic West as the ex-convict Jean Valjean.

David Oyelowo plays Valjean’s nemesis, Javert, who becomes obsessed with the jailbird after seeing him drop his trousers.

There’s nothing like a homoerotic subtext for saucing up a 19th century novel – and Andrew Davies, who adapted the book for TV, has plenty of form when it comes to injecting sex into the texts.

It was Davies in 1995 who imagined Colin Firth as Mr Darcy in Pride And Prejudice, wading out of a lake in clinging wet shirt and strides, thus turning Jane Austen’s prim comedy of manners into a steamy fantasy.

And it was Davies who, 20 years later, had the caddish Dolohov ravish naughty aristocratic Helene on the dining room table in War And Peace – a scene the original author Leo Tolstoy somehow forgot to write.

So when Javert summoned Valjean into his office to watch him undress, it was hardly a surprise.

Nor was it unexpected that Lily Collins played lovestruck Fantine in petticoats and faded dresses, looking every inch the impoverished Parisian seamstress – except for her eyebrows, which were bushy 21st century caterpillars.    

Les Mis is probably the best-known novel in all French literature, thanks to the epic West End musical that was turned into a Hollywood blockbuster in 2012

In a decade or so, we will be able to identify any costume drama from the twenty-teens, simply by looking at the luxuriant eyebrows.

Les Mis is probably the best-known novel in all French literature, thanks to the epic West End musical that was turned into a Hollywood blockbuster in 2012.

The stage show revolves around the stories of Valjean and Fantine, now familiar to millions – though fewer people realise that Herbert Kretzmer, who wrote the lyrics, was also the Daily Mail’s TV critic.

The Davies adaptation, stretching across six hours, has more time to let us get to know other characters from the book, such as Felix, the aristocratic playboy who seduces young Fantine and leaves her with a baby.

Johnny Flynn, who played Felix, was last seen as good old dependable Major Dobbin in Vanity Fair – to watch him casually ruin a girl seemed doubly shocking.

Kindly Bishop Myriel, who has only a few lines in the musical, was given a full run-out by Derek Jacobi.

He had time to develop the character into something more than a cardboard Christian, so that we believed in his innocent heart when he repaid Valjean for robbing him, by handing over his last two silver candlesticks as well.    

The challenge for the Beeb is to give us an incentive to watch this despairing six-part non-musical version, starring Dominic West as the ex-convict Jean Valjean

But though this is a more faithful reflection of Hugo’s vast imagination (Davies has crammed in more than 100 characters), what we really want to see is Valjean, Javert and Fantine.

In the film, they were played by Hugh Jackman, Russell Crowe and Anne Hathaway, which is an unbeatable trinity of star names.

The Beeb is taking a much bigger risk. West is a television A-lister, but Lily Collins is still most famous for being the daughter of Genesis singer Phil – and Oyelowo, though a respected stage actor, is little known to British audiences.

All three were ready for some melodrama, and West in particular was rolling his eyes and gnashing his teeth like a silent movie pirate.    

Les Miserables (BBC1) opened with an aerial shot of the carnage after the Battle of Waterloo, as ravens pecked the flesh of corpses and the thief Thenardier (Adeel Akhtar) dodged about stealing purses and gold teeth

He was probably worried that, under an inch of make-up and a beard that had escaped from a ZZ Top video, we might not be able to see he was acting.

Without a cast of instantly recognisable faces, and with unfamiliar storylines woven around the well-worn central plot, the BBC is trusting us to put some work in.

If you flopped on to the sofa at 9pm with a bottle of beaujolais and a big grin, ready to hum along to I Dreamed A Dream, this was not the production you were expecting.

But after the saccharine excesses of the Christmas season, a bit of harsh austerity is just what we need. Think of Les Mis as an antidote to all that schmaltz, a detox for the telly muscles.

[asmolbirb]

for the writing notes: 5 E, pretty please? :)

Prompt:

Anon I’m gonna break into your home and replace all your silverware with sporks

This prompt was SO HARD to fill, because I had, like, NOTHING in the note, literally what you’re seeing in that screenshot is ALL I HAD, and it’s surprisingly difficult to write 1000 words on nothing

Nonetheless! I’m super proud of what I managed to put together! I’m sure literally all of these tropes are overused but I don’t care because I put them together in this order all on my own! Excerpt + further commentary under the cut

Word count: 1105

Excerpt: When the spring rains triggered the first rockfall on the mountain that loomed above the village, sluicing away boulders and shrubbery to reveal a piercing eye twenty times the size of a human’s, the chieftain spared only a moment to sigh in resignation before sending Lana to assemble the Council.

“The bindings are weakening. The curse of the Fallen Ones rears its head once more,” the chieftain said in a low voice that evening. She was hosting the Council in the central courtyard around which the house had been built, but her voice carried easily to where Lana sat in the bedroom, mending a torn tunic. “It is time to begin our own preparations.”

“How long do we have? Do we have any hope of victory?”

“No more than a moon,” replied the chieftain. “And this is not a matter of hope - we must emerge victorious, to secure the safety of our children and our children’s children as our ancestors did for us.” The fire flickered, setting the Council’s shadows dancing across the sliver of floor visible through Lana’s door. She looked away from her mending and fancied she could make out her mother’s figure within the amorphous darkness. “Tomorrow morning, I will ride to seek the help of the Casters. Greta, mobilize the archers. We’ll need to prepare arrows strong enough to puncture stone…”

As the talk devolved into discussion of strategy and inventory, Lana lost interest. She finished with the tunic and clambered into bed, but sleep was a long time coming, her head abuzz with thoughts of giants and battles and arrows streaking across the sky.

She woke the next morning when her mother pressed a kiss to her forehead and swept her hair away from her face. “I’m leaving for some time, sweetheart,” she murmured.

“To fetch the Casters,” Lana replied in the same low tone, her voice scratchy with sleep. “I heard. What is the curse of the Fallen Ones? Are the Fallen Ones the ones in the mountains?”

Briefly, Lana’s mother’s lips stretched into a frown, before settling back into a neutral expression. “The Fallen Ones were cast out from God’s kingdom eons ago,” she said slowly. “They were halflings, not fully divine and not fully human, and so they were deemed impure. They sought refuge with the ones who had cursed them with existence, the mortal mothers and divine fathers, but both turned their backs. Their resentment grew, and they declared war on God’s kingdom. For their insolence, they were punished; they sought war, so war they received. God sent divine forces to fight the Fallen Ones, knowing fully well that the Fallen Ones had no hope of victory. Once the Fallen Ones were teetering on the edge of extinction, God relented, allowing the remaining Fallen Ones to fall back and recover under the guise of mercy. But when the Fallen Ones created their own society and regained their strength and numbers, God sent the divine forces once more to lay waste to them an the children they had birthed. It is a war that has been passed down among the generations, each seeking revenge for the ancestors who were needlessly culled in ages past. Every century, we battle the giants, and bind them again to the mountains, in a cycle of destruction and hatred as old as time.”

“All for wanting a home?” Lana asked, aghast. “Surely there’s a way to end the bloodshed!”

Her mother didn’t reply. Instead, she smiled softly and pressed another kiss to Lana’s forehead. “If all goes well, I’ll return in a week. Let Bridget know if you need anything, and stay out of trouble, you hear?”

One final kiss, and an “I promise” from Lana, and the chieftain was gone.

Over the next few days, their once sleepy town erupted into a gale of activity. Every morning, the archers and swordsmen could be heard running drills in the far fields. Construction began on barricades and simple weaponry. A watch was set to keep the Council informed on the progress of the unearthing of the giants.

By the second day, the eyes of four other creatures had been uncovered. Their gazes remained fixed on the village, never moving, never blinking. On more than one occasion, Lana wondered if the creatures were truly alive, or simply stone carvings. On the third day, the first hand was revealed, with fingers thick as tree trunks; the fifth day brought an avalanche that left in its wake glimpses of still more giants, some standing, some crouched as though preparing to shoot into a dead sprint. When the chieftain returned on the eighth day with a cavalcade of cloaked Casters trailing behind her, a dozen giants were painted in sharp relief across the mountain face.

(Transition)

The cavalry was lined in rows facing the giants, and the archers stood behind them, bows strung and arrows knocked. The Casters gathered in a tent near the command post where the chieftain and Lana were stationed. They had already begun incanting in the language of God. The strange words unsettled Lana, though she didn’t know whether this was because of their unfamiliar sounds or because of the power imbued into the chants by the Casters.

They watched the giants shake off the last of the dirt and unfurl to their full heights. As they rose, the giants spoke to each other in rumbling tones that mimicked the sound of earthquakes and rockfalls, the words as foreign to Lana’s ears as the Casters’.

As the sun reached its zenith, silence swept across the field. Then, as one, the giants attacked.

The frontline of giants swept through half the cavalry in their first rush. Though they carried no weapons, their limbs were powerful as bartering rams, and they simply swing their fists and feet in devastating arcs through the army. The archers rallied then, letting go of volley after volley of arrows, but they were largely ineffectual, simply bouncing off the giants’ sturdy bodies.

The chanting emanating from the Casters swelled in volume and intensity, and finally the giants slowed in their assault. They began to strain as they pushed forward, as though grappling with an immense backwards force. But even as the magic began to take hold, swaths of villagers fell victim to the giants’ sheer brute force.

Lana watched the carnage unfold in horror. “You said we would win,” she couldn’t help but whisper. “You said they would be decimated, left to lick their wounds for another century.”

The chieftain smiled, but it was a grim facsimile of her usual kind expression. “They aren’t the Fallen Ones, Lana. We are.”

Director’s cut commentary: Inspired by the concept of nephilim, more specifically the following line from wikipedia: “The word [nephilim] is loosely translated as giants in some Bibles and left untranslated in others. The "sons of God" have been interpreted as fallen angels in some traditional Jewish explanations.” 

And then, me being me, I had to find a way to subvert the idea of the giants being the nephilim/fallen angels.

I’d originally challenged myself to write a piece of microfiction that didn’t exceed 1k words, and this was my attempt at that. Clearly, I failed (lol), but I think I could a completed version of this down to 1.5k, so it’s not a total disappointment. Still, this is far from my best writing, probably because it’s 4:30 am and I only started writing this 2 hours ago because I couldn’t sleep. I’d like to add more details/descriptions, and I definitely need to flesh out the lore, and I’d like to find a way to eliminate the clunky expository loredump. But for a 2-hour word vomit session, this isn’t half bad imo.

Anyway, I hope this meets your expectations, anon! Thanks for the challenge, and for forcing me to stretch out my creative muscles!

[youhearstatic]

{3}

After being missing for three days, Barry has been mysteriously de-aged. Now he looks 20 years old and doesn’t remember anyone. Lup, Kravitz, and Taako are trying to figure things out. 

Now officially called “Losing Time” and up on AO3 if you’d prefer to read there.

Part One  | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen

Part Three:

Taako and Kravitz are trekking through a swamp. Or, Kravitz is. Taako is levitating just above the muck, moving himself by using the limbs of the cypress trees that surround them.

When Kravitz slips in the mud for the third time in twenty minutes, Taako makes his offer of levitate yet again. “No, save your spell slots,” Kravitz tells him. “My clothes will come clean.”

They continue on for several minutes. Neither spots any sign of a skirmish or necromantic activity.

“Um, Skeletor?” Taako says thoughtfully, drifting to a halt. “Was there mud on Barry’s clothes?”

“Fuck,” Kravitz says. “I was only thinking of the original intel. That was extremely foolish.” His mouth is a hard line as he studies the sun slanting through the trees. “Well, best we eliminated this area while there was still light,” he says, sounding resolved. His scythe appears in his hand. “Next location,” he states and slices open a portal.

 When they step out of the portal, they are a few feet away from a slim crevice formed by a rockfall. The waning sunlight doesn’t penetrate the passage at all. Taako’s elven dark vision is enough to confirm the space is extremely narrow and creepy as fuck.

“In there?” Taako asks, eyebrows raised. “Why are necromancers always setting up shop in such shitty places? Can’t they rent some office space or something?”

“Well, the good news is… Barry couldn’t have gone in there,” Kravitz points out. “I’d have a tough time managing it in ‘full skeletor mode’ as I believe you’ve called it.”

“Fuck yeah,” Taako says, “Another off the list.” His attitude sobers. “So what if the last place is a bust?”

“We look harder,” Kravitz responds as his scythe appears in his hand.

“Let’s hope ‘third times the charm’ then, my dude,” Taako tells him as he proceeds through the newest portal.

  The third time is not the charm. The sun has nearly disappeared at the horizon now but they don’t need much light to see there’s just nowhere for necromancers to hide their activities.

Taako looks around. “Okay, I’ll give them points for ambience. The dead trees really give it a nice ‘dead and hating it’ vibe. But there’s just nothing here. Did we miss something?”

“I don’t know,” Kravitz answers. “But I think I need to check in at the stockade. His bounty was collected. Maybe they have some answers for us.”

“Answers they’ll have any reason to share?” Taako pointed out.

“I believe the Raven Queen has already considered that. Do you want to return to Lup while I return to the Astral Plane, then?”

Taako nods. “She’s not handling this great. But she’s doing a lot better than I would. Stay out of whatever the fuck Barry found, okay?”

Kravitz opens a portal back to Lup and Barry’s home. He kisses Taako on the forehead and wraps one arm around the elf’s shoulders. “Keep an eye on her. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

“Promise me,” Taako insists. He puts a hand on Kravitz’s cheek.

Kravitz meets Taako’s eyes in a long beat of silence. “Taako, I can’t promise nothing will ever happen to me. But I have been doing this a very long time. And I promise I will always do my best to come back,” he says carefully. “To you.”

Taako nods, accepting his answer. “Guess that’s the best I can hope for.” He kisses Kravitz and enters the portal.

Kravitz closes the portal behind him and opens a new one to the Astral Plane.

  Lup returns to the bedroom and resumes her position on the floor watching her husband sleep. The sun is hugging closer to the horizon and the room is slashed with golden light and lengthening shadows.

But her eyes can handle much less light than human vision. She’s struggling to compare the Barry in front of her now to the one she first saw an hour or so ago. Is he getting younger? If he were losing a decade a day would she be able to see a change in that amount of time? If the loss is gradual it would be roughly five months per hour. Could she notice five months of aging? On her Barry’s face, the face she’s seen nearly every day for a hundred years, she believes she could see such a change. On this face that is familiar but foreign? She doubts she could tell. Kravitz was with him for a while before she got here. Maybe he can tell if there’s a difference when he and Taako get back.

There are questions circling in her mind that she’s desperately unable to avoid. If Barry ages backwards into non existence, is that death? Can he emerge as a lich from that? It’s nothing they’ve ever read about. It would be a fascinating theoretical discussion if it weren’t her husband’s existence on the line. And what of their service to the Raven Queen? Would the Queen’s dominion take precedence and restore him? Lup has no answers for any of these questions.

“Hey,” a voice says.

Lup has been so lost in her thoughts that she is startled by Barry speaking to her.

“Hey,” she manages to respond.

“You’re ‘Lup’ right? That’s what the other guy - Kravitz - called you?”

She nods.

“You look wiped out,” he observes. “Oh, gods, is this your bedroom? He did say he was bringing me back to your house. I’m sorry, I’ll…” He throws back the covers to get up.

“It’s fine,” she reassures him. She leans forward and pulls the blanket out of his hands and smooths it over him. “Elves don’t have to sleep.”

“Oh,” he responds and sinks back against the pillow. “I think I knew that. You… meditate? Were you meditating just now?”

“Not exactly,” she answers with a small smile.

“Can you sleep?” he asks. “Er, sorry, is that rude?”

“No, it’s not rude. And yes, I can sleep.” She thinks of thousands of nights curled up with him in their bunk or on the couches aboard the Starblaster and far, far fewer in their home, in this bed. “Sleeping is nice, sometimes.”

“Well, if you want to try, there’s plenty of room up here still.” A blush creeps over his face. “Or I can move. I didn’t mean…” He coughs. “You just look like you could use some rest.

The cough reminds her. “Oh, here,” she tells him. She pulls the inhaler out of her pocket and hands it too him. “I don’t know if it’s the right thing but it’s what we could get.”

“Thanks,” he says.

He sits up and uncaps the inhaler. She watches him make motions that are alien to her but clearly second nature to him. He shakes the inhaler, and puffs it into the air. He exhales and then breathes in deeply with the inhaler in his mouth. When he finishes, he recaps the inhaler and puts it on the table by the bed. He leans back on the pillow. After a few moments he exhales again. “Thanks, that helps,” he tells her.

“You should get some more sleep. I don’t think you’ve gotten more than an hour’s sleep in the last few days,” Lup tells him. “I can go,” she offers reluctantly. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“No,” he answers quickly. “Please. Don’t go.” He turns on his side again to look at her.

“Okay,” she agrees and leans back against the wall in relief. She drapes one arm over her raised knees in front of her. She rolls her shoulders and rubs a hand over the back of her neck.

“You look exhausted. Not that you look bad! I mean, you look gorgeous. Oh gods, I… well, come on, obviously you’re beautiful,” he admits, darting his eyes away from her. He coughs and stops to take another slow, deep breath. When he continues he can only manage to look at a place on the wall beside her and his face is burning with embarrassment. “Have you slept in the last few days?”

“I told you elf rest works differently,” she answers, amused.

“That’s not an answer,” he points out, meeting her eyes briefly. He looks away immediately but a shy smile blooms on his face.

It’s the smile that does it. His face might be missing the years and lines she is familiar with but it’s the smile she knows so well that spreads on his face. She wants to run her fingers over his mouth and trace it. She’s had a body again for just a little while. She’s not touched him nearly enough in that time. “No, I haven’t slept,” she answers fondly. “Or meditated.”

“Well the offer stands,” he says quietly. “I mean, it’s your bed. You’re welcome to …” he stops talking and covers his face with his hand. “I’m going to be quiet now. But you know what I meant.”

All those years on the Starblaster and I never noticed how often he got embarrassed around me? she thinks. Then she immediately answers her own question. Except, I did notice. I pretended it wasn’t happening the same way I ignored my own feelings. I wasted so much time, she thinks, and her stomach feels packed with lead. So, fine. If he’s going to… If something is going to happen then I can lay beside him for a little while first.

“Okay,” she answers.

Part Four

[esandcasg]

Chapter Three – Patterns in the Snow

I sat on the solitary wooden chair outside my hut, watching the sun come up over the jungle trees. Time seemed to be running slowly. Inside, Adam was making porridge, wrongly convinced it would give him some sort of biking advantage. In front of me, standing ten feet away, was Ifan.

“Ifan Thorne,” I said. “I always knew someday you’d come walking back through my door. I never doubted that. Something made it inevitable. So, what are you doing here in Nepal?”

Ifan looked me up and down coolly. “Adam has presumably explained everything.”

I nodded, my teeth starting to grind. “I’ve learned to hate you in the last ten years.”

“I never meant to hurt you.”

“I was a child. I thought we were just climbing a mountain. It was wrong and you knew it.”

“You knew what you were doing.”

I stood. “Now I do. This is my place. Get out.”

I turned and walked back into the hut, away from Ifan’s protestations that, as technically he hadn’t come into my place yet, he couldn’t get out; which rendered my statement nonsensical. I swung the door open, interrupting Adam as he was trying on some of my age-defying eye cream.

“Oh… I was just…”

Ignoring him, I went back into the bathroom, cursing the fact that the cheap extractor fan I’d installed the previous year hadn’t had time to ventilate the room yet. I placed my hands on the sink and stared at my reflection in the mirror. The time had taken a toll. Arguably, it wasn’t the years but the mileage; irrespective, I resembled a dried out husk of a man. My face was weather-beaten and pockmarked; lines etched deep trenches in my forehead. My hair, more salt than pepper now, unkempt and thinned by the unrelenting sun. Time had taken its toll; but thankfully not on the eyes.

I bowed my head, giving in to the inevitable. I had lost something on Kangleong. Maybe it was time to get it back.

I walked back out into the main room of my hut. Adam had by now gone outside, the appearance of wrinkles on his forehead presumably now visibly reduced via the magic of oxycutin-10. I switched the TV off and looked round the room, wondering if this would be for the last time. It was home, and I was happy here. But something was pulling me away, to complete something I’d began ten years previously.

I clambered into the back of the C-Max; Ifan drove us through the Korok Forest to Gerudo Town, the nearest large settlement. Ifan explained that this was where he and Adam had been staying whilst trying to track me down.

As Adam went off to check out of the hostel, Ifan and I found a bar. Gallantly, Ifan bought me a bottle of the second cheapest beer. For a while we drank in silence, save for the occasional fart.

“So,” I said, after half my bottle was finished. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

Ifan looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly that.”

“You said Adam had told you everything.”

My hands circled the bottle impatiently.

“He told me some stuff, sure. Stuff about time travel, Henry Craven and going back to Kangleong. Now I want you to tell me what’s really going on.”

Ifan let out a hiss of breath. “What he told you was true.”

“From a certain point of view?”

“Look, let’s not start this again, you made that Star Wars reference in the epilogue of Vertical Summit.”

He was right. Damn him, I thought, taking another gulp of my beer.

“Look,” he began, making some attempt at conciliation, but the anger rose up again inside me. I couldn’t help it. Ten years had done nothing to help me accept what had happened.

“Do you have any idea how bad it was?” I interrupted. “I don’t think you do. I don’t think any of you have the first idea. I died here. I lost everything. Everything I was, everything I wanted to be. And then I got given it back.”

“What are you talking about?”

I shook my head. Maybe this was too obscure a reference; I wasn’t convinced either of Ifan or Adam had watched the DVD extras of Touching the Void.

“You owe me,” I said, finally. “I had to put your names on the memorial at base camp. Had to phone your parents. Had to sing a hymn at your funeral and make hors d’oeuvres for the wake. Vol au vents. You know I hate vol au vents. I found some caper berries that went really well with cream cheese, but no-one really went for them so I had to take them all back in my car. I thought they’d keep for a while at least but they lasted three days. Three days Ifan! I had to eat 150,000 vol au vents in three days.”

Ifan looked at me but said nothing.

“All this time carrying your secret. Why didn’t you just tell me from the start? I could have helped. Or I could have stayed at home. Or climbed something people would believe that I climbed. Yeah, that’s right. No-one believed I’d summited. There was no-one left alive to back me up. They thought I’d faked the photos. ‘No-one can climb Kangleong in winter’ they said. So what did they assume happened? That I went on an expedition where everyone else died and I miraculously survived without a scratch? No-one believed a word I’d said; even after I told the whole story.”

“I thought you told it well. The even chapters at least.”

“Thanks.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth!” I almost shouted. “Bloody hell, Ifan, don’t you think I’m owed that? I kept your secret, even though it ruined me. I had to give up my entire life, come halfway round the world just to find some peace. And I found it. I actually found a peaceful life for myself. And then you two turn up and shatter it.”

“It’s not as easy as that.”

“You think anything has been easy for me?”

Ifan looked at me in the eyes and I knew he agreed; he owed me, him and Adam both.

“What we told you was true, back in the tunnel,” he began. “We were on Craven’s tail. He knew we were after him; he’d tried to kill us on that mountain. So we had to fake our deaths, had to make him think we were out of the equation. Then, only then, he might lower his guard and let us get close enough to bring him in.”

“You told me this.”

“We spent the next three years living in the Karakoram. Trying to blend in. We had most of our gear from base camp and plenty of energy gels, so we knew we could hunker in for long enough. In the meantime we were looking for the exact smuggling route Craven was using. It wasn’t enough to know it was somewhere in the Karakoram. We needed the exact trail. It took three cold years, but eventually we found it.”

“I thought you’d already found the trail? Isn’t that what the tunnels were for?”

Ifan shook his head. “You studied the Vietnam War, right? Think of the Ho Chi Minh Trail. A whole network of routes, and the US never knew which routes were being used. Sort of like that. They’d been building this network up for years. We don’t know how long the tunnels have been there, but they might even pre-date the smuggling. They certainly pre-date Craven. There are only two of us, so there was no way to patrol all the tunnels in order to find out which ones they were using.”

“Presumably there was some sort of pre-planned route? Or a system?”

“Exactly,” said Ifan. It took a long time to figure it out, but we did. We got very lucky. We knew we were getting nowhere. We couldn’t just wait in the tunnels because that would get back to Craven. We had to be patient and figure out the system. After three years of waiting, we started our observations. Two years later we had made barely any progress. Truth be told we were on the verge of giving up. Morale was pretty low; Adam and I were barely talking to each other, we’d got so sick of each other’s constant company. So I suggested we forget about things and climb a mountain. So we did. Gasherbrum IV.”

I let out a sharp hiss of breath. Gasherbrum IV was just under 8000m, so not technically in the group of the 13 highest mountains in the world, but its difficulty was legendary. No safe route on the mountain, a sheer west face. Originally known as K3, it was felt in some circles to be a harder mountain to climb than K2. Each route was exposed; you could be blasted by hurricane-force winds, hit by rockfall or swept off the route by avalanches. Seracs hung perilously on each way to the summit, barely clinging on to severely steep faces.

“Acclimatisation wasn’t a problem,” continued Ifan, “as we’d been living pretty much at 30,000ft for the three years previously, just under the death zone. So we figured we could just do a fast and light ascent of one of the ridges. We knew it would be tough.”

“Tough!” I exclaimed.

“Only problem was we knew nothing about the routes, or when was best to climb, and I found out that Adam hadn’t bothered to pay our broadband bill, so we couldn’t get wifi to google it. I suggested we head up an easier mountain, like Broad Peak, wait there with a telescope and plan our expedition.”

“Okay,” I said. I wasn’t sure where the hell this was going.

“So we made it up Broad Peak easy enough. Conditions weren’t brilliant – a lot of scratchy ice. Not a lot to dig into. A bit of a slog. But anyway, we got up to the top, set up our tent and just watched Gasherbrum IV for a month. As you know, there are a lot of avalanches there, supposedly. So we watched for their frequency, where they tended to fall, etc. We started to write our observations down. And then we noticed.”

“Noticed what?” I said, signalling the barman for more beer.

“There was a pattern. An undeniable pattern. It took us a while to realise. It was only when we were having a barbeque to mark our anniversary that I re-read the notebook and noticed the pattern. Avalanches down the south-east ridge specifically. At 8.45, every morning, there would be an avalanche. Some days just a solitary one. Other times two, or three. Rarely, four. But always at 8.45. And always on the south-east ridge.”

“Hold on,” I said, finishing off an onion ring from the sharing platter I’d ordered for myself. “Are you serious? Timed avalanches?” I picked up a mozzarella stick. “You realise how ridiculous that sounds?”

“Which is why we stayed on the summit for another month, just to be sure. I’ve still got the notebook. I can show you.”

“Well, what does that mean?”

“A signal.” Ifan took a folded piece of manuscript out of his jacket pocket and spread it out over the table, knocking over a couple of jalapeno poppers onto the floor. Observing the three second rule I crammed them hurriedly into my mouth, not willing to sacrifice them to the story.

I looked down at the table. The paper Ifan had unfolded was a map; a map of the Karakoram. I counted off the peaks – K2, Broad Peak, the Gasherbrums, Mason Mount, Denali and, of course, Kangleong. But there was something else on the map. Criss-crossing the mountains, someone had drawn a series of coloured lines in thick marker. Seeing the criss-cross made me jump.

“What am I looking at?” I asked, taking a bite of my plant-based burger.

“This is the network of tunnels. We think we found them all. Each different colour represents a different route.”

Although each coloured line ended in a different place on the western edge of the mountain range and started at different places at the northern boundary of the Karakoram, at points the lines converged before separating again. I could count six separate colours.

“Six routes,” said Ifan, as if he was reading my thoughts or the last sentence. “Six routes through the mountains.”

“So,” I said, “let me get this right. You’re saying that each number of avalanches corresponds to a different smuggling route?”

“Yep.”

“But you said there were a maximum of four avalanches.”

Ifan nodded. “We saw four three times. Most of the time it was one, two or three. But when we looked in the diary, Adam had recorded five avalanches on the south-east route once. Early on.”

“Okay, so that’s five. What about the sixth?”

Ifan leaned forward and pointed to the red line on the map. For the most part it ran a distance away from everything else.

“This one,” he said. “We think this is the sixth. We’re not even completely sure it exists. We drew the line on this map where we thought it goes but we’ve only found parts of it. We think sections of it are hidden. Behind seracs, inside crevasses, that kind of thing. But we found tunnels which didn’t seem to go anywhere. We think they’re part of this sixth route. A secret route.”

“What for?”

“Craven himself. You know the passetto di borgo in Rome? Provides an escape route for the Pope to the Castel Sant’angelo. Something like that. A route only Craven knew. A way for him to escape. That’s why there are no six avalanche signals. We think it’s for him only.”

“You think.”

Ifan grimaced. “We don’t know for sure. After we descended from Broad Peak we searched extensively for him. We found the tunnels, bit by bit, and built up this map. We knew where the passages intersected, we had a remote camera on Broad Peak watching Gasherbrum IV, so when the avalanches went off we knew where to go. Over the next two years we caught ninety-six smugglers. Found seventeen tonnes of plutonium. But nothing of Craven himself. You can see the routes all begin and end at separate places. So there was no way of knowing where he was holed up. Of course, the smugglers themselves wouldn’t tell us. They were too scared of him. Meanwhile he was happy for them to take all the flack.”

“A craven individual, you might say.”

Ifan looked at me silently.

“Hold on,” I said, “you said you were hiding out for three years. Then you said you were finding tunnels for two years. That’s five years.”

“We spent a while looking for you.”

“How long?”

“Six months.”

I paused. I’d only got GCSE maths but I’m fairly sure that didn’t account for the whole ten year gap between seeing them last and now.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked.

Ifan looked down at the table. He slowly folded back up the map and placed it back inside his jacket. Then he took a deep lungful of air.

“Towards the end of the time we were rounding people up. We were on K2, just around the Black Pyramid, where one of the tunnels runs behind. It was a snowy day. Fairly typical bad weather for K2. Anyway, we decide to head up to the balcony, to see the famous bottleneck and the serac above it. Adam left before I did as I had to pop a few things in the boot of the car. When I got to the balcony there was no sign of him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’d gone. I could barely see his tracks in the snow. The whole balcony was a complete white-out. No sign of anything at all. I couldn’t even see as far as the bottleneck. He’d vanished.”

I didn’t understand.

“I stayed on that mountain for four years, looking for him. Looking for any sign of what had happened. Then, just as I was packing up at Camp II, he came wandering back down the mountain as if nothing had happened.”

I still didn’t understand.

“So what had happened?” I asked.

Ifan shook his head. “I don’t know. He seemed completely fine. Still had all his gear, still wearing the same clothes. But… there was something different. I didn’t realise until we were down at base camp. But then he started talking about you, about getting back to Kangleong and 2013. Stopping Craven. I didn’t understand it.”

“You mean…”

“Yeah. This whole time travel thing. The whole thing about being from the future. That’s what he’s been saying since he came down the mountain. I don’t understand it. But he’s convinced we have to get back to Kangleong. He’s convinced we need to stop Craven.”

“But what happened up there? What happened to him in those four years?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ifan, for heaven’s sake…”

“Jeez, Andrew!” Ifan was shouting now. “Read between the lines! I haven’t decided what happened! I’m leaving that for Adam to potentially use in a subsequent chapter!”

I fell quiet, unable to process everything. What had happened to Adam to leave him convinced he was from the future? Where had he been for those four years?

“So,” Ifan said softly, “I figured that the best thing to do would be to go along with it. Find you, then head back to Kangleong. See if I could understand along the way what was going on.”

“Okay,” I said. “So what’s the issue?”

Ifan looked up at me. The expression chilled me to the bone.

“Kangleong’s not there anymore.”

“What do you mean? Not there?”

“That’s what I’m telling you kid. It’s been totally blown away.”

“What? How?”

“The earthquake. You saw it on the TV. It’s reduced the mountain to rubble. There’s no way back. Whatever was hiding there, there’s no way to find it now.”

I looked over Ifan’s shoulder. Entering the bar, his 85 litre backpack over his shoulders, was Adam. He looked down at the bottles of beer.

“Where’s mine?” he said.

Ifan and I looked at each other in silence.