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sonicrainicorn · 5 years

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Made of Love, Chapter 22

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Table of Contents

Ship(s): Logicality, (platonic) Prinxiety

All Characters: Thomas, Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Dr. Picani, Joan, Talyn, and Deceit

Synopsis: Humans Roman and Virgil get wrapped up in some serious magic business without meaning to. Their other companions aren’t exactly as they seem, either. Together they all must defeat a great threat for the safety of humanity.

Chapter Desc.: Thomas's worst fear is realized.

TW: Cursing, death mention, violence, blood (somewhat descriptive), existential crisis (vague)

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In the past few days, Virgil noticed something odd. Logan started wearing more long sleeves -- going so far as to wear Patton’s sweaters just so he’d have something covering his arms. Not that Virgil could say anything about it. He wore things with sleeves as often as he could since he always needed something to fidget with. Still, he decided to keep an eye on it for any further developments.

But perhaps he was overreacting. He often did that. He’d worry over things that didn’t need to be worried over. There was a chance this was one of those times. There was also a chance that it wasn’t. Nevertheless, It was better to be safe than sorry.

Other than that, everything was fine.

Well, as fine as it could be.

There was still the ever-looming threat of losing Logan forever which wasn’t fun to think about. At all. It didn’t help that he glitched out two days in a row, and it wasn’t any less terrifying than the first time. In fact, it seemed the more it happened, the scarier it got. A constant reminder that time was running out. Thankfully, Thomas had yet to witness it firsthand. No one could comprehend how traumatizing that would be for him.

Today, however, started somewhat normal. Patton and Virgil left the other three in the living room while they went outside to train. Training had become less frequent since they first started out, but it still happened. It was necessary. Practice makes perfect, as they say. Or at the very least, practice makes for a better outcome in a fight.

Speaking of fighting, Virgil couldn't help but wander over to what happened with the Theorist those couple days ago. Of how genuinely frightened he was of Patton. As if he had every reason to believe that Patton would hurt him without reason. He seemed so convinced if it. And Patton himself even admitted to being raised to fight. It all… it all sort of made sense. That was the reason he was so scarily accurate with weapons. That's why his first reaction upon hearing Arlene's name was to punch as hard as he could. It's why he didn't even hesitate to start training Roman and Virgil. Training is normal for him. Fighting is normal for him.

Did that make killing normal, too? Has Patton killed anyone? How many? Was Anxiety right? How long did he stay with his tribe before leaving? Did that affect how ingrained this was into his system?

"Look out!"

After a brief moment of alarm over hearing Roman's voice, Virgil plunged both Right and Left into the dummy's shoulder as a panic response. A bit unnecessary, and not at all what Right wanted him to do, but it got the job done. The dummy crumpled into a pile of sticks.

“You know, if you’re going to fight something you should probably focus on that rather than what’s going on in your head,” Patton mentioned from the log he sat at. A teasing smirk played at his lips. “Maybe you should take a break.”

Virgil ignored the heat rising up his face and tapped the hilts of his daggers together. They turned back into pens. He took a seat on the log as Patton stood up from it. “And what are you planning to do?”

“Well, everyone needs practice.” Beside his foot started to sprout thick, interweaving branches. They grew similarly to how someone might knit a scarf, except it started to curve. Patton pulled it out and a thin vine connected the two ends, creating a complete bow. After it, something resembling a sapling sprouted up with its needles forming along three sides to create the fletchings of an arrow.

Virgil decided not to comment on that. He watched Patton wander over to the opposite side of the dummies and take aim with his bow. He pulled back the makeshift string and let the arrow go. And missed -- but just barely. It scraped along the side of the dummy’s head and landed somewhere behind it.

“Whoops.” Patton grinned sheepishly. “This thing’s a little janky.” He sprouted another arrow from the ground. His movements were automatic, almost mechanical, as he plucked the arrow out and nocked it -- that is to say, he put the arrow to the string. He drew it back, aimed, and let it go. It hit the dummy’s head, causing it to crumble into a pile.

“So how long have you known how to use a bow and arrow?” Virgil watched another arrow hit the second dummy with rather remarkable grace. Like someone who had done this same action a dozen times over.

“A few hundred years.” The dummies built themselves back up. “Just about my whole life, really. Why?” Patton flicked his finger side to side in the direction of the dummies. They started to walk in opposite directions like cartoon characters on patrol.

Virgil followed one of the dummy’s steps with his eyes. “Wondering how much practice you actually need.” It fell to pieces.

A new arrow grew from the ground. “I mean, it’s good to brush off old skills every once in a while.” Patton nocked it and proceeded to aim at his next target.

“Even if those skills have been with you your whole life?”

“Yes, even then.” He hit it.

Virgil continued to watch Patton with increasing fascination. Every time both dummies went down, he had them start at a faster speed after they built themselves up again. He never missed. He hit the dummies' heads every time. A near-constant stream of arrows sprouted from the ground whenever he plucked one. Well, if someone did one thing for hundreds of years, they better be pretty good at it. Virgil assumed skills like this were only seen in books and movies.

It only made Virgil more curious. He wanted to learn more about Patton's heritage -- about the Machai elves. Were they as feared as the Theorist made them out to be? Why were they so focused on fighting? But Patton didn't want to talk about that. He made it very clear he wasn't interested in discussing his history.

There had to be some other way to do it -- some way to ease him into the topic. Because Virgil wouldn't be able to get any damn rest until he had at least some idea of who Patton was.

After hitting yet another target, Patton paused to push his hair out of his face. The wind picked up and caused the already rowdy curls to disobey any type of practicality. He had to spit out the few strands that made it into his mouth.

"Here. Looks like you need this." Virgil slipped off the hair tie on his wrist and offered it to Patton.

He grinned. "Thanks, Virgil." He set the bow down to walk over to him.

Then a lightbulb illuminated over Virgil's head.

As Patton gathered up all his hair, Virgil tried to figure out the best way to go about his question. It would sort of seem out of the blue, there was nothing he could do about that, but he figured he could use it as a leeway. "Hey, um, Patton. I have a bit of a question."

"What is it?" He pulled his hair through the tie.

"Do you know anything about soulmates?"

He cracked a small smile. "I know a lot about soulmates. Why? What's up?" He placed his hands on his hips. His hair was successfully pulled back into a little ponytail, though a few rebel strands decided to go their own way.

Shit. He wasn't prepared for this yet. "Oh -- uh -- just, like, what are they?"

"Well, they can be a lot of things. It depends on who you ask." He picked his bow back up. "If you want a textbook definition, they’re two people with a very close connection.”

“Is there a way you would define it?” Virgil put his hands in his hoodie pockets and put his back against the tree.

The dummies reformed. “Hmm. I guess I would say that soulmates are kinda like best friends. They’ll always be there for you and you’d understand each other better than anyone else.” He nocked another arrow. “I was taught that soulmates are sort of like stars. They’re bright and wonderful, but intense. They burn. And then they go out. Not every soulmate relationship sticks until the end. Sometimes they burn too much to really work out.”

“You sound so sure that they’re real.”

“There’s nothing saying that they’re not.” Patton sent him another grin. “It’s even possible for soulmates to be products of past lives. The Machai liked to believe that’s how soulmates are formed, anyway. Two people meet, they had a deep connection, their souls try to find each other again after they’re reincarnated.” He plucked another arrow.

Reincarnation. That was something Virgil didn’t want to think much about. It made sense, didn’t it? People kept seeing something in him -- someone that wasn’t him. Not anymore, anyway. It made sense that reincarnation would play a role. But it was terrifying. He existed before -- Roman existed before. They didn’t have any recollection of it. Did that change anything about them? Were they meant to remember more?

Ah, shit. There was that existential dread again. A puzzle piece from the wrong puzzle thrown into the mix. He had a perfectly fine puzzle before that extra piece forced its way in. Now nothing was going to fit right until he found out where it went.

Fuck.

Change the subject. “Would you consider yourself to be Logan’s soulmate?”

Patton stopped mid-action. He stayed frozen until slipping his fingers away from the string, continuing with the motion of shooting. He missed. “I’d say we’re something else entirely.”

Virgil stared at the arrow embedded in the nearby tree. “What would that be?”

He lowered the bow and looked up at the treetops. For a moment, Virgil was afraid he somehow asked the wrong question, until he saw a bright smile creep along Patton’s face. “It’s not something with a name, I don’t think. It’s different. It’s more like we rewrote our own stories to be how we wanted them. Sort of threw destiny off track a bit."

That was enough attempting to pry for today.

When they went back inside, the other three were still in the living room. Thomas was the first to notice their return. He gasped and leaped to his feet, running over to them like an energetic puppy. Paint was smeared along his cheeks and many splatters were over his clothes.

"Guys, look what we did." He threw his arms out to the canvas on the floor. It was a serene portrait of a tree branch with a bird resting on it. In the back was a lush field of green, scattered with bits of orange flowers. "Logan sketched out one of Roman's pictures and then we painted it. What do you think?"

Patton smiled. "It looks great." He leaned over the back of the armchair to get a better look at it without getting in the way. Roman and Logan were still working on it.

"It's not finished yet." Thomas beamed at Virgil.

"Looks pretty good to me." He returned the smile at a lower watt intensity.

"Well it has to be perfect," Roman called from the floor. He sat back from the painting. He was the least covered in paint out of the three of them. It only seemed to be on his hands.

"He's been insisting that since we started, even though we've said it doesn't need to be." Logan sat back as well. There were a few specific smears of paint on his face and even some in his bangs. He lifted his eyes from the canvas and they froze at Patton. "Your hair is up."

"Huh? Oh, yeah." He put a hand to his hair and gave a nervous smile. "Do you not like it?"

"I never said that. I think you look rather nice. It makes it easier to see all the constellations on your face."

Patton placed a hand on his cheek, his smile switching to be more reserved.

"Plus, you get to see your cute little elf ears," Thomas added.

Virgil felt heat rise to his cheeks. He could see Roman's turn pink.

"Thomas!" Patton covered his ears.

"I agree with that," Logan said.

Virgil's face got warmer.

Sometime around noon, they decided to walk down into town for lunch. They hadn’t gone out for food in a while and it seemed like a perfect time to do it. Well, perfect as a relative term. No one dropped dead or anything like that. So that was the standard for perfect nowadays, which was a bit upsetting for various reasons. But whatever.

As they ate, they ended up falling into a discussion about one of the biggest things they’ve ever gotten in trouble for. Patton and Logan elected not to participate, and Virgil was reluctant to admit anything. Roman, on the other hand, told them about the time he and one of his brothers put a wad of gum in their older sister’s hair and no one could get it out. She had to cut it super short and they ended up feeling bad about it. The days they were meant to be grounded for got canceled out by their sister shaving part of their heads and forcing them to get haircuts as well.

“What were you even expecting to happen?” Virgil gave Roman the usual ‘you’re-a-dumb-idiot’ look (but in a rare addition of amusement) as he messed around with the straw of his drink.

Roman shrugged. “I don’t know, dude. We were dumb and he’s a bad influence, but we learned not to mess with her after that. Especially after she started taking taekwondo lessons.” He reached into the large fry pile that they made. “Don’t act like you’ve never done anything dumb like that before.”

“Of course not. I’m an only child.” He hid his smirk by taking a sip of his drink.

Roman tossed a fry at him. “Whatever. You’ve had to have done something stupid in your childhood.”

“I somehow doubt that Virgil has ever done anything along your lines of idiocy,” Logan commented.

“Okay, rude.”

“He’s got a point, though,” Virgil said.

“You two don’t need to pick on Roman all the time,” Patton interjected. “Give him a break.”

Roman stuck his tongue out at Virgil. “Yeah! Thanks, Dad.”

Patton grinned while Logan rolled his eyes. Virgil was forced to stick his tongue out in retaliation.

“Back on the subject,” Thomas snuck into the conversation, “is there really nothing you’ve ever done that’s gotten you into big trouble?”

Virgil went back to messing with the straw. “I don’t know if I’m willing to confess my childhood shenanigans to you guys.”

“Oh, come on. They can’t be as bad as that time I got arrested.” He snatched up a fry as if the most Earth-shattering thing didn’t just come out of his mouth.

Roman inhaled a piece of food and started choking. Virgil’s jaw dropped. What the actual fuck.

“You’ve been arrested before?” Virgil didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Part of him wanted to scream instead.

Thomas stopped and grinned sheepishly. “Just once. I used to be a graffiti artist in the seventies and I got caught writing on something I shouldn’t have. The charges were dropped, though.”

Roman downed the rest of his soda. “Oh my God.” He coughed. “I can’t believe you’ve been arrested. You’re just a little baby. How could that happen to you?”

He shrugged. “Accident.”

Patton and Logan didn't look very amused.

After continuing to freak out over Thomas being arrested by an actual police officer before, they finished up so they could get back home. But neither Roman or Virgil could get over it. Thomas Sanders -- the same Thomas that cries during emotional movies and the same one that tried to avoid cursing -- was arrested for committing a crime. A minor misdemeanor really, but that didn’t change the disbelief. Roman was right. Thomas was a little baby. It wasn’t comprehensible for him to be doing any kind of illegal activity.

They freaked the fuck out even more when he mentioned, at the time, he could have passed as a twelve-year-old. In hindsight, he probably should have kept that to himself. He wasn’t ever going to hear the end of it.

By the time they were almost home, Roman and Virgil calmed down about it at least a little bit. Patton decided to change the subject before one or both of them had an aneurysm.

The street that led back home was empty once they got there. It wasn’t ever busy on the weekends since the majority of the buildings lining it were businesses or other buildings of that nature. So it was quiet and there wasn’t anyone to give them a second glance. It was because of this, though, that Virgil noticed Thomas coming to a complete stop. When people were around, he tried to avoid their attention and move as fast as possible to where he needed to be. Without them, he was able to look around more.

He stopped as well and turned toward Thomas. He was looking up at an office building. Virgil followed his gaze, but couldn’t see anything of note. “You okay, kid?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I -- I just --” He glanced at the group before returning his eyes up to the building. “I just thought I saw… something.” He frowned. ��Hold on.” He took off before anyone could say anything about it.

“Thomas,” Patton cried out in alarm.

Virgil was the first to follow after him, glancing vaguely in each direction of the street before running across. Thomas already made it inside by the time he got to the door. He could see him turn up the stairs. Not wanting to waste any time, he tugged on the door. But it didn't budge. “What the hell?” He pulled it again, but it didn’t swing open as it had for Thomas.

“It’s locked?” Roman ran up to him. He stared at the door in confusion. He pulled at the second one beside it, then pushed, but it didn’t move either way.

“What do you mean it’s locked?” Patton hovered nervously at Virgil’s side. “How is it locked?”

“Maybe he locked it?”

“Wha -- you can’t lock a door like this without a key.” Virgil shook the handle for emphasis. There wasn’t any way to lock it like a normal house door. It was an entrance to an office building -- it needed a key to be locked.

Roman threw his hands up. “So then how the hell did he get in if it was already locked?”

Patton and Logan shared a worried glance. “We have to get in,” Logan said.

“How?” Roman waved his arms in the direction of the doors. “We have no way of opening these.”

“I’ll just --” He reached for the door, only to yank his hand back -- “I can’t… I can’t do anything.” He looked down at his hands, then back up at the group. “Patton.” He fumbled over his words, struggling to push out a complete sentence, before giving up and pointing at the door. “Open it.”

Patton grimaced, inching forward to be in front. “Oh, I hope I don’t break anything too much.” He placed his hand between the two doors. Soon, weeds began to break through the crack. They pushed out and out until both doors popped open. He pulled one open all the way and rushed inside, followed by Logan.

“You can wait for us at least,” Roman called after them.

“Taking off just runs in the family.” Virgil grabbed Roman’s wrist and tugged him through the door.

They tried to keep up with Logan and Patton, but that proved a much more difficult task than anticipated. It was almost unfair how fast they were compared to Roman and Virgil. Though, if she perceives that her cub is in danger, it isn’t as if momma bear will take her time.

It wasn’t until they reached the third floor did they find Thomas. He stood in a partially vacant room with a large window that faced the street. It appeared as if the contents of the room were in the process of being taken elsewhere. Boxes were piled up in various corners.

"Thomas," Patton and Logan exclaimed at the same time. They hurried over to him, inspecting to see if he was okay.

"What made you run away like that?" Patton asked. He put his hands on Thomas’s shoulders.

Thomas took his eyes off the window and onto the very concerned faces of Patton and Logan. "I just thought I saw something."

"So you run away?" Logan crossed his arms

"What if something happened to you?"

Virgil and Roman idled in the doorway. If anyone has ever had a moment where you're at a friend's house, and then their parent starts lecturing them, then you know that uncertain and awkward feeling. It was an uncertain and awkward feeling that Virgil and Roman were being exposed to. They weren't quite sure if they should speak up, or walk away, or do anything. So they ended up keeping their mouths shut and pretended to focus on other things.

Thomas sighed. "I'm sorry."

"It's our job to keep you safe," Patton continued. "We can't keep you safe if you wander around without letting us know."

“I know.”

Patton gave a vague semblance of a smile and dropped his hands. “Let’s go home, alright?”

“We’ll discuss this later,” Logan added.

They walked back out to the open office floor. There were a lot of things put in boxes out here as well. Perhaps this particular floor was moving elsewhere. No matter, that wasn’t the main focus of this trip. Patton continued to make worried comments toward Thomas, asking if he was sure he was fine, but Thomas didn’t make very convincing answers. He mostly brushed it all off.

Once they made it back down to the second floor, everyone stopped dead when they heard a door creak open. They held their breath, seeing the door pulled into another room. Virgil expected a businessman, or otherwise threatening authority figure, but who stepped out did not meet his expectations. It was a rather soft-looking woman. A woman of average height with short brown hair -- who wasn’t even wearing a suit or dressed formally at all. She closed the door and looked up, peaceful expression turning surprised.

“Oh, well, wasn’t expecting this,” she said with a small smile.

Virgil wasn’t sure if that phrase was supposed to be significant in any way. He hadn’t ever seen this woman before. At least, he didn’t think so. And by the looks of it, Roman hadn’t either. Patton and Logan, on the other hand, seemed as if they just saw a ghost. Thomas stood there with wide eyes. No one said anything. No one moved.

“M-Mom?” With that simple word, Thomas’s eyes began to water.

The woman looked at him and her smile widened.

“Mom.” Thomas booked it over to her before Patton or Logan could stop him. He crashed into her, wrapping his arms around her, and crying. “Mama.”

Virgil felt as if the air had been pulled from his lungs. Something… something wasn’t right. A little voice screamed at him to get Thomas away from her. But the voice wasn’t his. It didn’t sound familiar. His uneasiness increased tenfold when he saw Logan and Patton. They were still horrified. Patton had his hands covering his mouth. He must have been doing a very good job holding in his empath magic because there were tears in his eyes but Virgil didn't feel a single one.

“Thomas,” Logan started, voice serious and steady. “You need to get back here. Right now."

"What?" Thomas pulled back, wiping his eyes. "But it's my mom. You know how long it's been since the last time I saw her."

"Yes, but that's not --" His voice cracked. Virgil could see the tears forming in his eyes before he shut them.

"Don't listen to him, baby," she said. Her voice was soothing. Like any mother who tries to calm down her child. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

Logan took a deep breath before attempting to speak again. "Thomas," he still sounded serious, but much more hollow than before, "look at her. Really look at her." He opened his eyes. "That's the last thing we ever saw her in."

Thomas took a step back from her to do as he was instructed. She wasn't wearing anything modern. Or even something that was intended to be worn outside of the house. She had on a silk robe decorated in flowers with a soft pink nightgown underneath. Even her feet were bare.

She wasn't real.

"But…" Thomas took another step back. "How -- why --?" He looked so torn.

"It's alright, Thomas." She took a step toward him. "I'm right here." She opened her arms for a welcoming hug.

And Thomas hesitated.

"Thomas," Patton begged. "Please."

Virgil was almost convinced Thomas wouldn’t listen. This was his mom. Why wouldn’t he think to turn to her first? But he didn’t. He took another step away from her. Fresh tears welled in his eyes as he continued to back away.

The woman frowned. “Thomas.” She dropped her arms. “I’m your mother.”

“I…” He stopped. “M-my --”

“She’s not,” Logan insisted as he stepped forward. “Not anymore.”

“Thomas, you have to believe us.” Patton joined Logan and took his hand. “She really isn’t your mom.”

The woman’s frown deepened as she looked at them. “As if you two would know anything about that. Neither of you had much of an example of what a mother should be.”

Patton's expression shifted to hurt while Logan appeared ready to punch her in the nose. Thomas stared at her in shock.

"Come on, Thomas, I think you've spent enough time with them." She regained her sweet smile and extended a hand toward him.

He didn't take it. He put more distance between them. "I've spent most of my life with them. I'm not just gonna leave."

She looked genuinely surprised by this. "You would rather stay?"

"I can't imagine doing anything else."

Confusion flicked across her face before steadying into something else -- an almost complete 180 of her original sweet persona. More than a furious mother, she seemed downright pissed off. “Thomas, I am trying to make this easier for you. Come here right now.”

“No.”

That didn’t appear to be the right thing to say. “What?”

“I, I said no. I’m not going with you.”

Virgil put his hands in his pockets, curling his fingers around the pens inside. He noticed Roman fidgeting with his bracelet.

“Fine. We’re going to have to do this the hard way.” She straightened out her robe and reached out for him.

Then a few things happened at once. Roman and Virgil summoned their weapons. A bright flash of light erupted before them, and a figure moved swiftly to be in front of Thomas. He seized the woman’s wrist.

“Picani,” Thomas exclaimed.

Or at least… it almost was. He didn’t quite look like himself; appearing more mashed together than usual. Not even his height was the same. His skin was darker. His hair was also darker and a bit curlier. The most drastic difference, however, was his eyes. One was a scalding bright blue, and the other was a dark sky.

“Oh, Cali, I was wondering if you were going to join us.” She yanked her arm back. Her eyes scanned him up and down. “You seem a bit broken though. Are you sure you can hold it together?”

“We can hold it just fine,” he said, Patton’s and Logan’s voices layering over one another.

The corner of her mouth turned up. “Sure sounds like it.”

He scowled. “Thomas, go over to Roman and Virgil.”

Thomas didn’t hesitate to do so.

The woman watched him go with an unreadable expression. Virgil couldn't tell if she was angry or not. "I never figured my own son would stop listening to me one day. After everything I ever did to keep you safe."

"You're not her."

"I was," she snapped, turning her head back to glare at Picani. "I was alive once. I used to be Brigida Sanders -- you used to know me. I'm the reason you're even here at all." She threw a punch at him, only missing because Picani deflected her hand. That didn't appear to slow her down at all.

Roman pulled Thomas back so there would be a greater distance between them and the fight. Virgil followed after.

"Think about it, Cal." She twisted his arm back and pressed her forearm across his shoulders. "What would have happened if Booker and I never found you? Do you think you would have made it very far?" She pushed down on him. "Would you have even accepted yourself?"

Picani's form flickered, allowing him to break out of her hold. "You are not the only reason we are here today."

"I beg to differ." She went at him again, though this time Picani wasn't as capable of blocking her. "I gave you everything. I made sure to protect you. I never let anyone put you down for being who you are. And yet you won't even let me have my son back." With every sentence, her blows hit harder.

Picani stepped away. He put his hands on his knees and breathed in and out in quick successions as if experiencing an intense exercise for the first time. “We promised to protect him.”

“And look what a great job you’ve done,” she retorted, sarcasm dripping from every word as she kicked him back.

In a quick flash of light, Logan and Patton fell to the floor.

“I gave him to you so he’d be safe from those who wanted to hurt him, but now he’s right on Altair’s radar.” She stood in front of them with a scowl. “What kind of protection is that?”

“We tried.” Patton struggled to sit up.

“A lot of good that did.” Her eyes lifted to Thomas. “It’s time for you to join everyone else.”

Thomas tensed. Roman and Virgil stood in front of him protectively. But she didn’t even get to take a step. A tip of a sword appeared in front of her face, halting her progress. Her eyes widened in shock. Logan rose to his feet. He adjusted the sword so it was properly in his hands, but kept it trained on Brigida.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” She raised a brow.

“Have to get rid of you somehow,” he responded.

“I suppose so.” She reached into her pockets and pulled out two matching daggers. The blades and handles were white. The grips had an intricate twisted design laced with gold leading up to the pommels. She put them together and they morphed into one, changing shape and size into a sword. “But I think we both know how this is going to end.”

Logan seemed less confident now -- not that he had time to feel that for long. Brigida swung at him.

As Brigida pushed forward, Virgil made a bee-line to Patton with Roman and Thomas following close behind.

“Are you okay?” Virgil kneeled in front of him.

“What? Y-yeah, yeah I’m fine.” He kept his eyes trained on Brigida and Logan. “I have to --” he stopped abruptly, patting his pockets with widened eyes. “I don’t have a weapon.” Panicked, he placed his hand on the carpet. “We’re on the second floor.” He drew his hand back, eyes briefly scanning over Roman and Virgil’s weapons, and looked around. “Dirt. I need dirt. A potted plant -- something.” He stood up.

“What about this one?” Roman picked up a succulent resting on a nearby desk.

Patton's eyes fluttered over it. “Fake.”

Roman and Thomas looked at it. In all fairness, it seemed pretty real, but perhaps the elf who could control plants knew what he was talking about. Roman tossed it back on the desk.

“You’re doing great, honey,” Patton called out with a nervous smile.

“Some help would be nice,” Logan shot back. He ducked out of the way of an oncoming sword.

“I’m working on it.” He glanced around the room, shifting from foot to foot. “I need to find a real plant.” He looked at Virgil and Roman. “Stay here with Thomas. I’ll be back as fast as I can.” He took off.

“Shouldn’t one of us help Logan?” Virgil cried out after him.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Virgil stood up. “He can’t be serious,” he deadpanned.

“Think about it,” Thomas started in a whisper. “You’ve only known how to fight for two months. My mom’s been able to fight for a couple centuries. I don’t even think Logan would be able to beat her on his own.”

“Isn’t that a good reason to try?” Virgil tightened his grip on his daggers. As he gazed at the two fighting, Right made quiet suggestions on how to best assist Logan.

“I’m kinda with Thomas on this one, Virge,” Roman said. “We have almost no experience -- especially compared to her. How much help can we possibly be?”

That was a solid point. They wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight against her. But still. Virgil couldn’t help but feel he had to do something. As if it was his responsibility to fix this somehow. There was something deep inside of him that insisted he needed to get rid of her. He had to protect everyone.

Logan hit the ground. His sword was on far from his reach. Brigida stood over him and pulled apart the hilt of her sword, forcing it to return to her hands as two daggers. She adjusted one of them to be in a proper grip. "Good effort, kiddo.”

Virgil reacted on pure instinct. He heard Thomas and Roman's muffled voices, but they didn't impede his progress. He had to do this. Almost as if by muscle memory, he hit his forearm against Brigida’s and pushed it down and around, using her momentum to turn her body away. Once her back was toward him, he shoved her as hard as he could. After it happened, he realized he had an open opportunity to strike, yet he didn’t utilize it. He just wanted to get her far away.

“How the hell did you do that?” Logan’s voice almost didn't register to Virgil's ears.

“I have no idea.” Virgil turned to him.

“Well, we’re not out of it yet.” He got up and grabbed his sword.

The hairs on the back of Virgil’s neck stood on end. He spun around in time to see Brigida slash down with her dagger. He narrowly missed the blade by sidestepping out of the way. He tried to ignore how close she was to almost stabbing him. It was easy to do once he had to block another one of her attacks.

"Oh, those are cute," she commented, eyeing up his daggers. "I'll have to take them off you later." She used their interlocked daggers to her advantage. She pulled on one of them and kicked his leg up, sending him tumbling down.

Much to his chagrin, he realized this was a similar move he had seen before. When Logan threw Roman to the ground.

"Move!" Roman's voice hissed at him.

No need to tell Virgil twice. He rolled in time for Brigida to slam her dagger down. Instead of hitting Virgil, thank God, it stuck into the ground.

She lowered herself enough to whisper, "Stand down, kid." She almost sounded genuine. Then she stood up to deal with Logan.

Like hell would Virgil listen to her. If anything he was being a rather good distraction. He needed to buy Patton more time. With a new goal in mind, he tried to stand up -- except he couldn't get anywhere. He fell back to the floor. It didn't take him long to notice that Brigida's dagger was stabbed through his hoodie pocket. Fuck. He should have zipped it up. He let go of Left so he could pull it out, but when he tugged on it it wouldn't budge. "Jesus, lady," he grumbled to himself. How the hell did she manage this?

"Virgil," Thomas called out. He was hiding behind Roman, eyes apprehensively glancing between his mom and Logan fighting, and the predicament Virgil found himself in. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He tugged on it again. This time he managed to move it, but not very much. He had no clue how she stabbed the floor this hard.

“Do you need any help? Or do you have any other dumb stunts to aid you?” Roman raised a brow in his usual ‘you’re-an-idiot-and-I’m-right’ expression.

Virgil glared at him. “I got it.” Sort of. Much to his pain, he realized the easiest option would be to tear his hoodie loose, which would leave a rather unfortunate hole. If he tried to continue pulling out the dagger he’d just be wasting more time. In the end, he decided ruining his favorite hoodie was a small price to pay.

He took each side of the pocket and yanked it up. It got caught on the hilt the first time. But the second time the fabric gave way. He couldn’t lie; that hurt his soul a bit.

“Virgil!”

Virgil didn’t have any time to react. In a split second, he saw Roman and Thomas disappear and then he fell. He landed flat on his back with enough force to knock the wind out of him. The clang of metal was loud and clear in his ears as Right slipped out of his hand. He tried to pick himself up, but he didn’t quite get there. Instead, he rolled to his side, which was at least halfway there and deserved some form of compensation in his opinion. Getting the air knocked out of you was tough shit. Give him some credit.

All of that seemed rather irrelevant, however, when he saw Brigida’s dagger fall over the edge. “What the hell?” His chest constricted as the words passed his lips, but he ignored it. He pushed himself to his feet and immediately wanted to sit back down.

He was on a rather high catwalk. More confusing was that he seemed to be in a theatre. All the seats below him were empty and the bare minimum of lights was on. He held onto the bars to calm his vertigo, but it didn’t help that his hands were slick from sweat. Luckily, part of his attention got dragged somewhere else. Voices. Brigida and Logan were on the stage below.

“You know,” her voice carried up to the catwalk with traces of annoyance. “I don’t even have to take you back to Altair at all. I just have to kill you.”

Logan took a defensive position. “Do it, then.”

“Sure thing.”

No.

No, no, no, no. She would absolutely be able to do that. No. That couldn’t happen. Virgil needed to get down there as fast as possible. Patton would kill him if he stood back and watched. Not that he even entertained the idea, anyway. He located the exit of the catwalk and scooped up his daggers, scurrying off to the door.

He took the stairs down as fast as was safely possible which resulted in him almost running face-first into the door when he reached the bottom. He pushed it open and raced out. He was in one of the wings. None of the main lights were on, but he could see props and equipment silhouetted by the dim blue light. There was a chance he’d trip over something with the rather large mess this posed. Who the hell was performing here? Didn’t they care about safety?

As Virgil navigated his way to an opening, he glanced through the legs to see onstage. With one dagger it seemed as if Brigida struggled to fight back. Not even someone like her would have a good time going up against a sword with such a close-encounter weapon. This was good. By the time Virgil made it onstage, Logan already had Brigida on the ground. Disarmed and with nowhere to go.

He held the tip of his sword to her throat.

Brigida stared at it before bringing her eyes up to Logan. Her expression morphed to be one of hurt. Both frightened and betrayed at the same time. “C’mon, L,” she said, voice wavering. “You wouldn’t hurt me, would you?”

Logan hesitated. Recognition and uncertainty crossed his features. She struck a nerve.

Virgil didn’t get to register what Right had whispered to him before it happened. And he became frozen.

Brigida kicked Logan back, knocking the sword out of his hand. As he stumbled, she picked it up. All sound was caught in Virgil’s throat as she ran it through Logan. Her face showed no remorse -- or even a lack of expression as other Figments -- instead, she wore a sly smirk. She was proud to have lowered Logan’s defenses so easily. She felt something.

She drew the sword back out. Logan took a step back, shaky hands moving to cover his gaping wound. “You were always the weak one.” She shoved him down. “Always too afraid to use your full potential.” He tried to get away, but she kept him down. “Always needing someone to say you’re doing it right. Because mommy and daddy didn’t love you enough. You’re nothing but flaws, Logan. After all this time, that's the one thing you haven't changed.”

“Throw me!” Left all but screamed at Virgil in Patton’s voice.

Brigida lifted the sword.

Like a gear in clockwork, Virgil raised the dagger and threw it. After it left his fingers, a crippling fear hit him at once. He hadn’t thrown his daggers much before. He could miss. He could piss her off and get Logan killed. Why didn’t he think before he threw?

The dagger struck between her eyes. She looked straight at Virgil in surprise. Black ooze leaked out, sliding down over her mouth, then she was gone. Both the dagger and sword fell from their positions. Everything around them fizzled out of existence; they were on the first floor of the office building again.

Virgil stood there in shock. It took Right yelling at him to get him to move. He ran toward Logan and kneeled at his side.

“Oh my God,” he muttered. “Are you alright? No, God.” He placed his hands over the wound, earning a wince from Logan. “I, uh, what do I do?” He tried to not start panicking, but that proved easier said than done. Blood was seeping in between his fingers. Real blood. Actual blood. This wasn’t some horrible vision or a what-if scenario. This was happening right here and he wasn’t prepared for it.

“P-Patton,” Logan choked out.

Virgil furrowed his brows. “Patton?” Then it sunk in. “Patton. Heal. H-he can heal.” He shot up from the ground and ran up the stairs.

The three stood around having an argument that no doubt was seeded in worry.

“Patton.”

They stopped and looked in the direction of Virgil's voice.

Virgil couldn’t think of any words. He held out his hands, both covered in blood. He saw Patton’s eyes scan every inch of him. “Logan.”

Patton’s eyes shot up to Virgil’s face as if needing to see validity. Seeming to find it, he wasted no time in bolting down the stairs.

The others followed after.

All of Patton's English flew out the window when he reached the first floor. Logan winced as his hands were removed and replaced by Patton’s. He whispered calming foreign words as a soft blue glow clashed with the jarring red. Logan kept his eyes screwed shut throughout the whole thing.

Soon, Patton sighed in relief and removed his hands. No one commented on the blood that stained them. “How you feeling?”

Logan groaned and sat up. “Sore.” His hand hovered over the previously open wound. The only evidence that it ever happened was the tear in his shirt and the blood. “You’d think it would be easier the second time.”

“Wait, what?” Roman cried.

Patton chuckled. “Don’t worry about that.” He helped Logan to his feet.

“Are you sure he’s alright?” Virgil gazed at Logan worriedly. “Don’t people who lose blood need transfusions or something?”

“Transfusions only occur if hemoglobin levels are seven or eight grams per deciliter. And he hasn’t passed out so I’d say that’s a pretty good indicator that he’ll live without one.”

Virgil and Roman stared at Patton. Then turned their eyes to Logan.

He seemed to be trying to keep himself steady until he noticed the eyes on him. He looked at them in confusion. “What are you staring at me for? He’s right.”

“Besides,” Patton continued. “We don’t technically exist. The only identification we have is Picani’s."

“Can we just go home now?” Thomas cut in.

Patton stared at him for a moment. "Oh, of course."

They had to be careful to not let anyone else see the blood on their way out.

When they got back, Thomas wasted no time going up the stairs to his room. He didn't say a word. Just left the others behind as soon as the opportunity came up. Patton and Logan watched him go and sighed when his door slammed closed. That didn't seem like a good sign.

"Does this seem like a Picani problem?" Patton turned to Logan.

"It most certainly does. But if we try fusing again I think that might actually kill me so let's avoid that." He placed a hand where Brigida stabbed him.

Roman frowned as he gazed up the stairs. "We could always send Virgil up there."

"What?" Virgil gave him an incredulous look.

Roman returned the look as if it was obvious. "You're the next best thing. He likes you. You help him with so many things and he tells you everything. You'll probably deal with this better than all of us."

"I think he's right," Patton agreed.

Oh great. Now he couldn't weasel out of it. "Let me clean the blood off first," he sighed.

After scrubbing his hands, he headed up the stairs. The little blackboard on Thomas's door had the same message it did for the past two months. No one changed it or attempted to erase it all the way. Virgil knocked underneath it. "Hey, kid, it's me. If you don't want me coming in say something now or else I'm going to take it as an invitation." He waited but didn't get anything. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

He couldn’t see Thomas at first. His initial thought was that he somehow got out, but his reasoning skills set in. There was a scrunched up pile of blankets on the bed. He had to be under there.

He sat down at the edge of the bed. The bundle of blankets didn’t move. “You doing okay?” He placed his hands in his lap.

There came a muffled response of, “Peachy.” From the one word alone, Virgil could tell something wasn’t quite right. It didn’t sound like him. A quiet sniffle soon told him why.

How would he approach this? “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I want Picani.”

Oh, sweet Jesus. He sounded like a heartbroken little kid. Virgil couldn’t handle this right now. “He’d come up here if he could, but I don’t think he’d stick around very long. I’m afraid you only have me. If you don’t want to talk, you don’t have to.”

He let out a broken sound. “I… I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to believe that she -- that everyone -- that they’re… they’re…” He shattered into pieces. Even through the fabric, his sobbing was clear and audible. “I-I just wanted them to be fine. I wanted it so bad, but it was dumb and naive to keep thinking that way. And it hurts. I ignored everything telling me the truth because I didn’t wanna stop believing that they were out there somewhere. But they’re not. Of course they weren’t. I knew that the moment I met you, but it took me seeing my mom as a Figment to get me to believe it.”

“The moment you met me?” Something squirmed inside Virgil’s chest. His hands turned clammy.

“You have her eyes.”

Her eyes.

“You’re a lot like her. You have that same light in your eyes."

“Because they’ll see the same thing I did.”

“I guess history repeats itself, after all.”

He… he used to be Brigida.

“I-I just wanna be alone right now.” Thomas further pulled his blankets around himself. His next words came out even more muffled than before, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Virgil obeyed without another word. His movements didn’t feel quite like his own as he walked toward the door. Like he had control but someone else was doing the action. Maybe it had to do with his missing puzzle piece making things more complicated rather than complete.

(Next)

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #roman sanders #logicality #platonic prinxiety #violence tw #blood tw #death mention #coinverse

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will-iswriting-again · 6 years

Text

One Thousand Six Hundred and Twenty Seven

Title: One Thousand Six Hundred and Twenty Seven

Fandom: The Adventure Zone

Pairing(s): just some good ol twins being twins

Genre: Light angst?

Word Count: 3173

Warning(s): Foster care, mentions of thievery/arson, vague mentions to a shitty past but there’s no expanding on it?, idk it’s not much this time

Summary: On August 27th, 2018, it was raining. Which was fitting, Taako supposed. It was raining and the Taaco twins felt like the world was ending.

Taako carefully folded his last tank top and slowly lowered it into his suitcase. He looked in the toiletries pocket and checked again that everything was in there- brush, toothbrush, toothpaste, emergency shampoo and conditioner, face wash, hair cream. He closed the pocket and flipped the top of the suitcase over with a soft thump. He then zipped the case close as slowly as he could, counting the click of each tooth as it connected with its opposite.

Click. One. Click. Two. Click. Three. Click. Four.

It was the third time he’d emptied his suitcase and packed it again that day, but only the first time today counting the zippers. He couldn’t help it, he needed something to do, something to keep his mind busy while avoiding the unwanted attention of the other kids there. So he pulled the zipper comically slow and counted.

Click. Fourteen. Click. Fifteen. Click. Sixteen.

Lup was sitting next to him by the desk, toying with her lighter. She was in the middle of one of her favorite patterns, one she developed when she picked the lighter off some guy at the mall two years ago. Light the candle. Blow it out. Flick the lighter on. Release the trigger to put it out. Light the candle. Blow it out. Flick the lighter on. Release the trigger to put it out.

Click. Thirty two. Click. Thirty three. Click. Thirty four. Click. Thirty five.

It was raining. August 27th, 2018. Cloudy with an 85% chance of showers. Taako supposed the 85% had won out today. He was tempted to count the raindrops on the window but it was raining too hard to get a precise number, and the water kept washing the previous droplets away. He had tried to count them once in the car when he was ten, his aunt had taken them to the amusement park and the car ride had been three hours long. The droplets kept moving and adding and replacing themselves, it was too hard to count them and Taako had gotten so frustrated he started crying. His Aunt hadn’t known what was wrong and they almost had to cancel the whole trip. So he counted the zipper instead, it was a comforting constant.

Click. Seventy eight. Click. Seventy nine.

Istus was late. It was 5:27. She was supposed to arrive at 3:15 between 4 seconds and 36 seconds. He had stopped counting the seconds at 5:19 and 42 seconds to start counting the zippers instead. He hoped Lup was counting for him. But he doubted it, Lup liked patterns, Taako liked numbers. She only counted for Taako in emergencies, and vice versa for her patterns, and this was not an emergency.

He looked at Lup again. She was still playing with her lighter. Light the candle. Blow it out. Flick the lighter on. Release the trigger to put-

One of the kids, Taako thought his name was Sam, bounced over to Lup to inspect what she was doing. He was new to the system, only a couple months in and two or three years younger than the twins. Taako hated the weasel, he smelled, messed up Taako’s counting, and, worst of all, bothered Lup. Sam leaned in, admiring the flame Lup had lit as it flickered ceremoniously on the candle wick. He frowned as she blew it out.

“Why’d you do that?” He complained, whipping his head up towards Lup. “I was watching that fire.” Lup flinched as he spoke, snapping out of her daze. She instantly narrowed her eyes at him.

“It was my fire to begin with and I wanted to put it out,” She huffed and crossed her arms. Taako didn’t miss the tension in her shoulders, he knew how much she hated to have her patterns interrupted.

Click. One hundred and eleven. Click. One hundred and twelve. Click. One hundred and thirteen.

“Still not fair,” Sam pouted, matching Lup’s annoyed demeanor. “You should really be nicer to me. I could tell Ms. Letti you’re being mean.” Taako paused a moment and looked up at the two, taking note of the fiery glare in Lup’s eyes before smirking and returning to his counting, Lup never backed down from a threat. She was better than Taako in that way.

“And then I could burn your tongue off for tattling. Who’d be the real winner then?” Lup smiled coldly and went back to lighting a flame, lighting the candle, blowing it out, etc. Taako knew she wasn’t being serious. It was the one rule they had in all their homes: never mess with other kids. But it was fun to scare them once in a while, especially if the twins were leaving before the day was up. Taako found it was easier if they hated you when you left, than to miss you when you’re gone. Sam’s eyes widened as he watch Lup continue to light her fires and he scurried away, probably to cry to Letti.

It was 5:31, Taako hoped Istus would be here soon. He would be pretty miffed if they had to wait until August 28th, 2018. One thousand six hundred and twenty seven felt better in Taako’s mind than one thousand six hundred and twenty eight. Taako preferred numbers with sevens in them to any other number. He didn’t really know why, he just did.

Click. Two hundred and forty five. Click. Two hundred and forty six. Click. Two hundred and forty seven.

He wished Istus would tell them more about the homes they went to before they got there. Taako liked to be prepared. If he and Lup needed to run then Taako wanted time to get ready. He wanted to know the nearest bus stop, DMV, the cheapest motel. He was always ready to drop off the grid, something he wished he could do more often, if he was being honest. Istus didn’t tell them much about this new home, only that they were staying with a middle aged couple and their two foster kids. Taako hated sharing a foster home. It was hard enough dealing with the foster parents. Foster siblings were even harder. Sometimes Taako found they were harder to deal with than biological kids. At least with biological kids everyone knew their place; the bio kid was the real child, and Lup and Taako were a necessary inconvenience. With other foster kids it was a gamble on who would be favored and why, unwanted friendships, assholes who made life miserable for everyone, toss in all the traumatic system backstories and you had a house full of kids just as fucked up as Taako. He could barely deal with his and Lup’s own fuck-ups, he didn’t need to worry about anyone else’s.

Taako huffed and started clicking faster. It’d be annoying if Istus got here before Taako finished counting. It would leave him restless for the rest of the day, or what was left of it. It was 5:38 now, Taako briefly wondered how bad the traffic was.

Click. Three hundred and eighty nine. Click. Three hundred and ninety. Click. Three hundred and ninety one.

Lup made her way over to where Taako was sitting. Sinking to the ground next to him and resting her back against their shared twin bed that sat behind them.

“You counting?” She asked, linking her pinky with Taako’s free hand.

“Yeah,” He replied. Click. Four hundred and fifty three. “Sorry about Sam, he’s a dick.” Lup smirked.

“It’s fine, never seeing the little gremlin again anyway,” She waved her other hand flippantly before pausing, tilting her head to the side and letting a short laugh puff out of her. “Did you say his name was Sam?” Taako let go of the zipper, making a mental mark of where he was (five hundred and two) and turned to her.

“Yeah, did you not know?” He asked lightly, knitting his brows when she started to laugh harder.

“No I didn’t, I’ve been convinced his name was Daniel for the past three weeks,” She joked and Taako gave her a lazy grin.

“Well, I don’t know who your informant is but they really need to step up their game,” He retorted. He glanced at the time again, 5:53. Lup noticed him looking and frowned, the joking atmosphere dissolving in an instant.

“She’s late,” Lup said.

“Very late,” Taako finished.

“Do you want to go back to counting?” Lup asked and Taako shook his head.

“Nah, I got a feeling I won’t be able to finish and I’d much rather talk to you then get annoyed at a zipper,” He replied and cast his suitcase a scornful look before zipping it up the rest of the way. Normally, he’d be more upset with that but he’d counted his suitcase before, and when the three thousand five hundred sixty fourth, and final, tooth clicked into place he gave his attention back to Lup. “But if she’s not here by six then I might start counting the seconds again.”

“Again?” She asked. “When did you stop last time?”

“5:19,” Taako replied nonchalantly, leaning into Lup’s side. “I wanted to start counting my zippers.” Lup nodded and the two fell into a comfortable silence, squished together uncomfortably, elbows knocking and legs interweaving, just the way they liked it. Taako noticed Lup tapping a soft rhythm into her knee and Taako took that as the okay to start counting again. He watched the second hand on the traditional clock mounted on the wall move to forty three and began following along.

Tick. Fifty eight. Tick. Fifty nine. Tick. Sixty. Tick. One.

Istus didn’t arrive until 6:04 and twenty three seconds. Taako and Lup heard the sharp knock of the door downstairs and gathered their things wordlessly. Between them they only had two suitcases and a makeup bag, which on the one hand, was disgustingly sad and pretty hilarious from Taako’s perspective, but on the other hand made it very easy to pack up and go. Taako grabbed Lup’s hand and they made their way downstairs. As they passed the upstairs’ main hallway and neared the skinny spiral staircase at the end some of the younger kids poked their heads out, pouting at the sight of the twins’ bags.

“Are Taako and Lup leaving?” One of the little girls asked from the doorway of her and three of the other girls bedroom. Her roommate, Sarah, slapped her elbow lightly.

“Yes, now shush, it’s none of your business,” She scolded the child and sent them an apologetic smile. Lup gave her a thankful one back but Taako didn’t miss the thinly veiled jealousy on Sarah’s face. He’d only spoken to Sarah a couple times, he and Lup tended to keep to themselves in group homes, but she’d never had a foster family before and always envied how Taako and Lup had been to several already. If only you knew, Taako thought and turned forward, shaking his head lightly.

Taako lugged their suitcases down the steep stairs and deposited them on the floor with a thump. In front of him Letti stood with her arms crossed and back to the twins, chatting idly with Istus at the door. Istus’ hair was wet from the rain and she stayed in the small rectangular alcove with all the kids’ shoes and coats that connected to the kitchen and the rest of the house, to keep the main floor from getting wet. Taako made his way to the kitchen table, pulling out one of the wooden chairs and using it as a stepstool to get on top of the table, and waited for Istus and Letti to finish speaking.

“-I hope the twins weren’t too much trouble for you,” Istus was saying, her charming smile ever present on her face. Letti chuckled lightly, brushing her long hair away from her eyes.

“Not at all. Well, that’s a lie, but it was as little trouble as the twins could get into,” She joked. Letti was a kind old women in her sixties. She wore soft cardigans, summer dresses, and had billowing salt and pepper hair that she let fall over her shoulders in waves. She was definitely Taako’s favorite guardian, a fair lady and she seemed to want every child in her care happy. It was a nice contrast to what their guardians were normally like. She reminded Taako of their Aunt in a way, someone who only spread kindness and someone they definitely didn’t deserve, this was something he had to push out of his mind constantly, or else he might start crying. “The twins were a delight. I would say I’d love to see them again but I think we’re all hoping that doesn’t happen.”

Taako’s breath hitched. It was the one downside to Letti, he hated how optimistic she was. She never understood the reality of their situation, it was almost a guarantee they’d be back here again. Best case scenario is they run away before anyone gets the chance to kick them out again. He almost wished they were staying. Here they could lay low here and wait to age out of the system, in a foster home anything was fair game.

“Let’s hope luck is on our side then,” Istus smiled and peered over Letti’s shoulder, catching a glimpse of the twins. “Taako! Lup! It’s great to see you kids again.” Taako hopped off the table and walked over to her while Lup grabbed their bags.

“You’re late,” Was all Lup remarked from behind them.

“Two hours, fifty one minutes, and thirteen seconds late,” Taako finished and Istus laughed.

“Yes, of course, sorry to keep you guys waiting, traffic was a nightmare,” She rolled her eyes. “People do not know how to drive in the rain. Are you two ready to go?” She opened the door, looking over her shoulder at the twins. “We’re already behind schedule and I want to get there as soon as possible. It’s going to be a long ride.” Taako glanced at Lup and then back at Istus before nodding.

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” He shrugged, taking his suitcase from his sister. “Thanks for everything Letti.” He added on softly. Part of him wanted to give her a hug, something way too sentimental for normal Taako, he frowned, he was getting too soft for his own good. Lup grabbed his wrist and started to pull him towards the door but Letti stopped them before she could. She grabbed them both into a tight hug, squeezing hard enough to be comforting but not too hard that she was suffocating them. Taako froze in her embrace, he didn’t know how to reciprocate, normal hugs were very different than twin hugs. He could feel goosebumps rising on Lup’s arms next to him.

“You two stay safe,” Letti whispered, if Taako didn’t know any better he’d say it sounded like she was choking up. “Remember that you are stronger than you’ll ever know.” She smelled like old books and jasmine tea.

Letti released them quickly and ruffled their hair, pushing them out the door. Taako flipped his wide brimmed hat over his head just in time, saving his hair from the rain. Lup wasn’t as lucky, the downpour soaking her shoulder length hair instantly. Istus was waiting for them by the car, leaning on the door in a white raincoat. Taako and Lup ran down the sidewalk and popped open the trunk of Istus’ black Subaru. They dumped their bags in and raced around to the back seats, sliding in and slamming the door behind them.

Istus ducked into the passenger side and turned around to the twins. “Kids, this is my friend Pan,” She gestured to the man in the driver’s seat. He was a short man in the fifties with curly brown hair, a well kept beard, and a pot belly. He grinned and waved at the two. “He’s friends with your new foster family and is helping us with drive up.”

“Thank you so much Mr. Pan,” Lup said, making sure to emphasize the “Mr,” some adults were really picky about respect. “I know it must’ve been hard finding us a home.” She muttered the phrase like they were words on a script. In a way, though, they were, the twins had spent years learning to pander to social workers and foster parents. But Pan laughed airily.

“Not at all, little miss. Merle’s an old friend of mine and he’s had a fair bit of experience fostering,” He smiled back at them and Taako noted that he had very red cheeks. He almost looked like Santa. A crusty, brown haired Santa. “And you can just call me Pan, ‘mister’ makes me sound like an old man.” The two sighed in relief as Pan started the car.

“We’re going to try and drive straight through but if you need us to stop for any reason just let me know, okay?” Istus said and looked at them through the rearview mirror. Taako nodded.

“Where are we going anyway?” He asked, drumming his fingers on his leg impatiently.

“Oh! I can’t believe I haven’t told you guys yet, things have been busier than I thought they would be,” Istus laughed nervously. “We’re heading to a small town in West Virginia called Benevolence. It’s like an hour outside New Phandalin?” She turned to Pan for a confirmation, who nodded as they pulled out of Letti’s driveway and away from the kindest home the twins had had since their Aunt passed. Lup stared out the window, a look of mourning on her face while Taako gaped at the two adults.

“West Virginia?!” Taako cried in disbelief. He’d grown used to Houston, it was familiar now. West Virginia was almost twenty hours away.

“Yeah, I think it’d be good for you two to get away from the city. There’s less, um, how to put this, bad influences,” Istus said in the tone of voice adults used when they thought you were just a dumb kid. He knew what she really meant, the twins were the bad influence. Taako had only been picked up for stealing once, a rookie mistake when he was thirteen, but it was no secret he still did it from time to time. And you had to be dense as bricks to not realize Lup was one more hit away from becoming a full time arsonist.

Taako slumped in his seat. He hated small towns. It made him feel so vulnerable. In the city he and Lup could duck out at the drop of hat, vanishing into the huge city crowds and no one could find them. In small towns everyone knew who you were, if something changed in a small town then it was no secret.

Taako let his knee bump into Lup’s and he reached out to hold her hand, he hoped the ride was quick. The quicker they got there the quicker the two could run away and the quicker Taako could finally, finally, disappear.

#My writing #the adventure zone #taz balance #taz #lup #taako #lup taaco #taako taaco #taz istus #taz pan #foster care #foster kid au #arson #thievery #this is my au where I torture the twins to cope #keeping tally series #one thousand six hundred and twenty seven #taz fic #taz fanfiction

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helenatice261060-blog · 6 years

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Little ones As Well As What To Anticipate.

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knitcrate · 7 years

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We had so much fun putting together this list of knitters that also happen to be celebrities! Take a look at how some of your favorite stars pass the time and relieve stress with one of our favorite fiber arts. Now, if only we could figure out how to get them a Knitcrate...

photo credit Demi Lovato

Demi Lovato

This sassy, down-to-earth songstress shows a softer side with a simple garter stitch scarf as she travels from one gig to another. Knitting is, after all, the perfect way to unwind after a high-energy night.

photo credit MGM studios

Ryan Gosling

Hearthrob Ryan Gosling has been the subject of many a ‘Hey Girl’ knitting meme, but he actually does knit. He learned on the set of the quirky indie film, Lars and the Real Girl, where he also sports adorable sweaters (like the one shown above).

photo credit We Are Knitters

Krysten Ritter

We love Krysten for her unapologetic roles in shows like Jessica Jones and Breaking Bad, but now we have a new reason to love this actress: her devotion to knitting. Krysten often shares knitting projects on her Instagram and has been seen knitting on the Tonight Show. She’s not just into garter stitch, either--the actress was interviewed for Interweave, Mollie Makes, and Vogue Knitting this year about her projects, including her design work for We Are Knitters.

photo credit Jae Donnelly for Dailymail.com

Julia Roberts

It’s no secret that Julia Roberts knits--or that she knits so much that even co-stars like Tom Hanks, when given the opportunity, learned too. As one of our favorite knitting celebrities, it’s extra special to see Julia wearing a Women’s March hat that she probably made herself!

photo credit from at-dakota.org

Dakota Fanning

Dakota has been knitting since a young age, and has a habit of gifting her creations to co-stars, like Tom Cruise on the War of the Worlds set, and Ewan McGregor in her more recent film, American Pastoral. It looks like knitters of all stripes can’t help but be generous with their talents. She sounds like the perfect candidate for a knitting subscription, just saying....!

photo credit DailyMail UK

Cara Delevigne

Supermodel and actress Cara Delevigne has been spotted knitting before runway shows as a way to unwind and pass the time. It wouldn’t be a stretch for her to start a new fashion trend if she begins wearing more of her own knitted accessories.

photo credit Lion Brand Yarn

Vanna White

You’ll probably already know that Vanna knits and crochets, due to her popular yarn line with Lion Brand, but here’s a photo of her on-set at Wheel of Fortune, hooking a blanket!

photo credit Premier Yarns

Deborah Norville

Another celebrity with a big-box line? Deborah Norville from Inside Edition has a collaboration with Premier Yarns that features several knitting books and a much-loved, pill-free acrylic.

photo credit Sony Pictures

Catherine Zeta-Jones

This stunning star was captured knitting behind the scenes on the movie Mask of Zorro, and has been rumored to have knit her whole family ponchos as a Christmas gift one year. (Sound like anyone you know?)

photo credit unknown, 1959

Audrey Hepburn

Iconic and timeless, this beautiful star was seen knitting between shots on many of her films, but also during the movie Breakfast at TIffany’s. We wonder what she was up to on the set of The Unforgiven, where this shot was taken behind the scenes.

photo credit Cordon Press

Sarah Jessica Parker

This "Sex and the City" star has been repeatedly spotted knitting on and off set. In a Good Housekeeping article, Sarah was asked how she relaxes. Her reply was: "I read, watch TV, or knit. But I try to knit and watch TV at the same time, which means I end up with many dropped stitches". Read more here.

photo credit Getty Images

Kristen Davis

SJP's Sex and the City costar knits too! In Lifetime magazine Kristin talked about her passion of knitting for others and with her knitting club. A recent Huffington Post article here cites Kristen as having taught Blake Lively how to knit - way to spread the love, Kristen!

photo credit 20th Century Fox

Marilyn Monroe

Although the pictures are a bit grainy and small, there are some shots of Marilyn knitting on the set of 1960′s Let’s Make Love, a film in which she also wears this fantastic Cowichan-inspired cardigan. You can find some similar patterns here.

photo credit Daily Mail

Christina Hendricks

The confident beauty shared her love of knitting in an article for CNN--like many of us, she finds the practice of this craft soothing.

cover photo credit Sixth & Spring Books

David Arquette

His grandmother taught him to knit. How sweet! David loves knitting so much that he appeared on the cover of Celebrity Scarves 2 to support breast cancer research. Speaking of, the Celebrity Scarves books by Abra Edelman are full of wonderful celebrity knitters and features an introduction by another celebrity knitter...

Daryl Hannah

Daryl Hannah was featured on the cover of the 2003 Vogue Knitting magazine, before the 2006 knitting craze that launched sites like Ravelry.

photo credit Those Heavenly Days

Katherine Heigl

The 27 Dresses and Knocked Up star blogs about her life and crafts, here. She has even stated that she has thought about opening up a knitting shop. (You go, Katherine--we’d all visit for knit night)!

photo credit Splash News

Amanda Seyfried

The Mean Girls and Mamma Mia star has said that she considers knitting her therapy, and is often seen knitting in public as well as on set. She’s moved far beyond your typical garter stitch and often shares sweaters, including one designed by Steven West, on her social media.

photo credit Sunday Times Style Magazine

Daisy Ridley

The Star Wars star is an avid knitter. We hope that during those social media breaks, she’s getting lots of knitting time in!

There are countless more that we’ll have to explore in another post: knitters like Ingrid Bergman, the Notorious RBG (Ruth Bader Ginsburg), Amy Adams, Blake Lively, Russel Crowe, Harry Styles, Lorde, Kate Moss, Karen Allen, Meryl Streep, Angela Lansbury, Kurt Cobain, Uma Thurman, Kate Hudson, and many more have been rumored to pick up hooks, needles, and yarn! We can’t help but wonder how many of these knitters might be secret Ravelry readers and even Knitcrate subscribers. If you’re thinking of taking up knitting or crochet yourself, a subscription is a great place to start.

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abramsbooks · 7 years

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HOW-TO: Knit the Sheep Sorrel pattern, designed by Pam Allen + a profile on Quince & Co.

An excerpt from Slow Knitting by Hannah Thiessen.

Open a back issue of Interweave Knits, search your shelf of knitting books, or simply glance through your Ravelry library and past projects, and I’m sure you’ll find something designed by Quince & Co.’s Pam Allen. From the publication of her first patterns in the early 1980s to her management of one of today’s most popular and prolific knitting brands, Pam has been a stable presence in a knitting market that has undergone vast amounts of change.

Pam’s earliest published knitting patterns appeared in Family Circle magazine. She sustained herself by publishing works and getting herself involved with anything knitting-related, including knitting swatches for yarn companies. She then moved into writing books (like Knitting for Dummies, which adorns my own bookshelf and taught me to purl, yarn over, and increase stitches), and she eventually became the editor in chief at Interweave Knits. Interweave combined many of Pam’s interests—fashion, art, history, research, construction, and instruction—into one neat package. She helped the company weather the industry’s move toward new Internet content offerings bolstered by the rise of Ravelry, the popular online knitting and crochet community, and the overnight boom of independent publishing. Afterward, she left Interweave Knits to pursue her interest in the making of yarn as creative director at Classic Elite, an established yarn company.

Pam enjoyed the process of coordinating and creating the new visions for each season of yarns, patterns, and campaigns for Classic Elite. During her time there, she got a call from a Texas mohair producer interested in making a yarn featuring his fiber. The fiber was wonderful, but like many large yarn companies, Classic Elite had long forgone using American mills to spin their yarn in favor of better pricing and higher production overseas. Regardless, Pam agreed to see samples. In talking to the mohair farmer, she discovered that a mill local to her in Maine was doing custom spinning, and she decided to do some research. While Classic Elite wasn’t interested in expanding to American production at the time, Pam decided to break away and pursue her new dream of becoming a yarn producer with the purpose of rejuvenating American textile production. She partnered with the mill owner, Bob Rice, and launched Quince & Co. in 2010.

Each and every yarn released through Quince & Co. goes through a design process that highlights the unique qualities of the fibers involved. Pam has pulled on her vast experience working with and selecting yarns to create beautiful versions of familiar things. Owl, a worstedweight, plump two-ply, is one of my favorite examples. Typically, Huacaya alpaca is spun to enhance the slinky, silky aspects of the fiber, resulting in yarns that have great drape, but may be heavy for use in larger garments. Combining alpaca with a special blend of American-bred wool, Owl is then woolen-spun, a method that adds air in between the yarn fibers and allows for warmth that is lofty and lightweight. One of the unique aspects of Owl is that each season, alpaca colors are slightly different based on the animal’s breeding, age, and coloration. This results in a yarn that while not consistent year to year, is truly special in its uniqueness. Instead of seeing this as a challenge, Pam has embraced these differences and introduces new colors of Owl frequently. (Although she does encourage those who knit with this yarn to buy enough for their garment all at once!)

Like the sheep’s wool used in Owl, the fiber used in all of Quince & Co.’s yarns is carefully considered and sourced, and not simply in the easiest way possible. After consulting with cotton farmers and discovering that growing and maintaining organic cotton standards wasn’t resulting in a premium product, Pam decided to go with Cleaner Cotton™ through the Sustainable Cotton Project. This process uses biologically based processes to manage pests and avoids compounds that create problems for natural wildlife populations, like honeybees. Unlike organic cotton, in which losses and waste create their own harmful results, Cleaner Cotton™ allows farmers to maintain the yields that are profitable without sacrificing the land’s quality and stability.

Six years after its start, Quince & Co. has become synonymous with beautiful, fresh design. Pam Allen has long since bought her partner out and expanded her production from a single mill to five, and has gone from making a handful of yarns to releasing new bases or colors seasonally (the current tally is thirteen yarns). While Quince may still be a fairly small company, Pam hopes it will continue to grow—she never intended it to be a boutique yarn, but instead hopes that someday the company may be large enough to support many farmers. More yarn means more sheep, and more sheep mean more open spaces, ranches, and farms that will not be turned into industrial development or construction. Open space is a commodity that cannot be regained, and Pam is passionate about maintaining as much of it in the United States as possible. Wool, as Pam says, is a living fiber that changes and grows, just like the industry that feeds it.

Sheep Sorrel

Who better to design a pattern than the person who designed the yarn? Pam created a simple hat and fingerless mitt set that celebrates the rustic beauty of Owl in high relief. The combination of basic knit and purl stitches used on panels is reminiscent of Guernsey patterning. Ridges of garter stitch and simple cables make these a knit that allows for yarn appreciation throughout the project. Since the stitches are approachable, these make a great group project that knitters of all levels can enjoy.

Finished Measurements Hat: 17¼" (44 cm) circumference Mitts: 7" (18 cm) hand circumference

Yarn Quince & Co. Owl [50% American wool / 50% alpaca; 120 yards (110 meters) / 1¾ ounces (50 grams)]: 3 skeins Mesa (2 skeins for Hat, 1 skein for Mitts)

Needles Hat: Size US 8 (5 mm) needle(s) in your preferred style for working in the rnd Mitts: Size US 6 (4 mm) and US 7 (4.5 mm) needle(s) in your preferred style for working in the rnd

Change needle size if necessary to obtain correct gauge.

Notions Hat: Stitch marker Mitts: Stitch markers; waste yarn

Gauge Hat: 21 sts and 29 rnds = 4" (10 cm) in Hat Pattern, using size US 8 (5 mm) needles Mitts: 19 sts and 34 rnds = 4" (10 cm) in Garter stitch, using size US 7 (5 mm) needles

Special Abbreviations LT: Slip 1 st to cable needle and hold to front, k1, k1 from cn. To work without a cable needle, insert needle from back to front between first and second sts and knit second st, then knit first st and slip both sts from left needle together.

RT: Slip 1 st to cable needle and hold to back, k1, k1 from cn. To work without a cable needle, skip first st and knit into front of second st, then knit first st and slip both sts from left needle together.

Stitch Patterns

HAT PATTERN (multiple of 15 sts; 4-rnd repeat) Rnd 1: *P5, k2, p6, k2; repeat from * to end. Rnd 2: *P1, k3, p1, RT, p1, k4, p1, LT; repeat from * to end. Rnd 3: *P5, k2, p1, k4, p1, k2; repeat from * to end. Rnd 4: *P1, k3, p1, RT, p1, k4, p1, LT; repeat from * to end. Repeat Rnds 1–4 for Hat Pattern.

MITTS PATTERN (panel of 12 sts; 4-rnd repeat) Rnd 1: P1, k2, p6, k2, p1. Rnd 2: P1, RT, p1, k4, p1, LT, p1. Rnd 3: P1, k2, p1, k4, p1, k2, p1. Rnd 4: P1, RT, p1, k4, p1, LT, p1. Repeat Rnds 1–4 for Mitts Pattern.

HAT

Note: Use your preferred method of working in the rnd.

Using Long-Tail CO (see below), CO 90 sts. Join for working in the rnd, being careful not to twist sts; pm for beginning of rnd.

Begin Hat Pattern; work even until piece measures 10" from the beginning, ending with Rnd 4 of pattern.

Shape Crown Rnd 1: *P2tog, p1, p2tog-tbl, k2, p2tog, p2, p2tog-tbl, k2; repeat from * to end—66 sts remain. Rnd 2: *K3, RT, k4, LT; repeat from * to end. Rnd 3: *K3tog, [k2tog] 4 times; repeat from * to end—30 sts remain. Rnd 4: *K2tog; repeat from * to end—15 sts remain. Cut yarn, leaving a 12" (30.5 cm) tail. Thread tail through remaining sts twice, pull tight, and fasten off.

Finishing Block as desired.

MITTS

Right Mitt Note: Use your preferred method of working in the rnd. Using smaller needle(s) and Long-Tail CO (see below), CO 36 sts. Join for working in the rnd, being careful not to twist sts; pm for beginning of rnd.

Rnd 1: P3, work Mitts Pattern over next 12 sts, p3, pm for beginning of palm, p18. Rnd 2: K3, work to 3 sts before marker, k3, sm, knit to end. Rnd 3: P3, work to 3 sts before marker, p3, purl to end. Rnd 4: K3, work to 3 sts before marker, k3, knit to end. Rnd 5: Repeat Rnd 3.

Change to larger needle.

Rnd 6: Work to marker, sm, k12, k2tog, yo, knit to end. Rnd 7: Work to marker, sm, purl to end. Rnd 8: Work to marker, sm, k11, k2tog, yo, knit to end. Rnd 9: Work to marker, sm, purl to end. Rnd 10: Work to marker, sm, k10, k2tog, yo, knit to end. Rnd 11: Work to marker, sm, purl to end.

Shape Thumb Gusset Rnd 1: Work to marker, sm, k11, yo, knit to end—1 st increased. Rnd 2: Work to marker, sm, purl to end.

Repeat Rnds 1 and 2 six more times—43 sts; 18 sts for back of hand, 25 sts for palm.

Hand Next Rnd: Work to marker, sm, k1, place next 11 sts on waste yarn for thumb, CO 4 sts over gap using Backward Loop CO (see below), knit to end—36 sts remain.

Work even until piece measures 6" (15 cm) from the beginning, ending with Rnd 1 of Pattern. BO all sts purlwise.

Thumb Transfer sts from waste yarn to larger needle(s), pick up and knit 1 st at left side edge of thumb opening, 4 sts from CO sts, then 1 st at right side edge of thumb opening—17 sts. Join for working in the rnd; pm for beginning of rnd. *Knit 1 rnd. Purl 1 rnd. Repeat from * until thumb measures 1" (2.5 cm) from pick-up rnd, ending with a purl rnd. Bind off all sts purlwise.

Left Mitt Work as for Right Mitt through Rnd 5.

Change to larger needle.

Rnd 6: Work to marker, sm, k4, yo, ssk, knit to end. Rnd 7: Work to marker, sm, purl to end. Rnd 8: Work to marker, sm, k5, yo, ssk, knit to end. Rnd 9: Work to marker, sm, purl to end. Rnd 10: Work to marker, sm, k6, yo, ssk, knit to end. Rnd 11: Work to marker, sm, purl to end.

Shape Thumb Gusset Rnd 1: Work to marker, sm, k7, yo, knit to end—37 sts. Rnd 2: Work to marker, sm, purl to end. Rnd 3: Work to marker, sm, knit to last 11 sts, yo, knit to end—1 st increased. Rnd 4: Work to marker, sm, purl to end. Repeat Rnds 3 and 4 five more times—43 sts; 18 sts for back of hand, 25 sts for palm.

Hand Next Rnd: Work to marker, sm, k13, place next 11 sts on waste yarn for thumb, CO 4 sts over gap using Backward Loop CO, k1—36 sts remain.

Complete as for Right Mitt.

Finishing Block as desired.

Special Techniques

Long-Tail CO

– Leaving tail with about 1" (2.5cm) of yarn for each st to be cast-on, make a slipknot in the yarn and place it on the righthand needle, with the tail to the front and the working end to the back. Insert the thumb and forefinger of your left hand between the strands of yarn so that the working end is around your forefinger, and the tail end is around your thumb “slingshot” fashion; *insert the tip of the right–hand needle into the front loop on the thumb, hook the strand of yarn coming from the forefinger from back to front, and draw it through the loop on your thumb; remove your thumb from the loop and pull on the working yarn to tighten the new st on the right–hand needle; return your thumb and forefinger to their original positions, and repeat from * for remaining sts to be CO.

Backward Loop CO – Make a loop (using a slip knot) with the working yarn and place it on the right-hand needle (first st CO), *wind yarn around thumb clockwise, insert righthand needle into the front of the loop on thumb, remove thumb and tighten st on needle; repeat from * for remaining sts to be CO, or for casting on at the end of a row in progress.

Like the “slow food” movement, Slow Knitting encourages knitters to step back, pare down, and celebrate the craftsmanship of their work. In five chapters centered around the tenets of slow knitting—sourcing carefully, making thoughtfully, thinking environmentally, experimenting fearlessly, and exploring openly—Hannah Thiessen challenges knitters of all skill levels to view their practice in a new way. Each chapter contains explorations of fiber types; profiles of well-known yarn types, makers, and yarn suppliers; and garment patterns inspired by the featured fibers. With contributions from knitting superstars Norah Gaughan, Bristol Ivy, and many others, Slow Knitting proposes an approach to knitting that is both minimalist and all-encompassing, and emphasizes what makes knitting a meditation, a passion, and a unique necessity.

For more information, click here.

#abramsbooks #abrams books #slow knitting #hannah thiessen #knitting #slow knit #knitting project #knitting pattern #knit #hat pattern #mitten pattern #fingerless mitten pattern #knit pattern #winter knitting

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kbworthsaving · 2 years

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Ann Taylor Sweater Mohair Wool Marble Open Light.

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knittingcountess · 7 years

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Two shawls done for FO Friday!

UPPER ROW: 3 views of Susanna IC’s Waxwing Shawl; worked in Marina by Manos del Uruguay in the “hueso” colorway. I purchased the kit from the Interweave Store, which included the pattern and the yarn, but no beads. The beads I purchased from Hobby Lobby. Although Susanna used 4mm bicone beads for hers, I chose 3mm bicones for a “daintier” look.

LOWER ROW: 3 views of Kay F. Jones’s Duchess of Devonshire Shawl; worked in Eyre Light by Madelinetosh in the “Duchess” colorway (one of my favorites). Please take note that the shawl was just completed less than 1 hour ago, so it has not been blocked yet, hence the strange “hump” in the middle of the back and the less than defined points on the edges. I’m not sure if I want to do a “knit-along” hem too soon again. The other purple shawl I’m doing ends with an “eyelet” section, and I’m wondering if that might have been a workable alternative!

#StitcheryWitchery #FO Friday #shawl knitting #lace knitting #Susanna IC #Kay F. Jones #madelinetosh #manos del uruguay

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beatricedelprat-blog · 6 years

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. Svg.

A delicious chocolate springer spaniel is actually effectively called liver as well as white in colour, though lots of folks utilize the condition 'delicious chocolate' in the beginning. . Feel free to always remember that the graph was actually composed utilizing a variety of resources of details varying coming from expert to novice analysts, and it is actually by no indicates an absolute and also clear description of balls as well as the definitions of ball colors. There is actually a complete lighting method that showers the enter white colored pale immediately after you uncover the phone or even push one of all of them, with sneak a peek at this site blue glow determining the pressed switch momentarily or so. An additional, even more refined, igniting preparing begins while making use of various other functionalities of the handset, which achieves its own double objective of being actually all at once unintrusive and also insightful. In this article I will specify about what some of these colors imply and also in what scenario a person might wear a kente cloth with that particular colour. I additionally offer my personal initial newspaper crafts, clip art and also coloring web pages for every ages cost-free (for noncommercial, personal make use of merely) at my website (locate particulars in my profile). Light Blue - use for peace, stress, and calmness decline, reflections. He intended to enhance his fine art studies, because he knew coming from a young age that he intended to produce fine art, yet he located that a lot of art organizations were actually reserved for white individuals simply. International Journal of Culture Researches 11 (2 ): 143-59. Darker paint over the office chair rail makes the slick as well as picture agreement stand out. Individuals point that white and also black is tiring ... effectively it';;; s very most absolutely certainly not. In Paint Analysis in Building Preservation, modified through Collection Bregnhøi, Helen Hughes, Jenni Lindbom, Tone Olstad as well as Edwin Verweij, 37-44.

The close-up images chronicle every blotch and also roaming hair, along with every photo, extending the leading, narrow understanding of what redheads can and ought to appear like. Other pre-American power structures including injustice include the caste body of India, which establishes the ascendance of illumination over darker in religion. While I adore the planet colours, I have a tendency to possess a yellowish planet, an orange the planet as well as a reddish the planet at the very least in my color scheme, and also I really love the most cloudy of watercolours Indian Red as a reddish the planet. Analysts have actually discovered that subjecting individuals along with phobias to their anxiety-- as an examples, spiders for those that possess arachnophobia-- at the local time their heart beats, caused the phobia reducing in seriousness. When the text is actually that color.Others are also pale or also bright, many of the different colors listed below are ones that may be reviewed. Repaint all of them dark eco-friendly, cream or blue as well as make use of wooden or even low-gloss installations. You can easily decide on distinct colors and designs that have marble, marble, stainless steel, or even a wooden top. This is excellent if you have slate or even marble in your space because oftentimes these are going to include a great deal of various grays and also woes with each other thus this is actually heading to give a referral back to attribute. This different colors - a tone nonexistent of all and also any sort of lighting - is actually the Holy Grail, of types, for performer Frederik de Wilde He's the male eager adequate to assist dad" blacker-than-black," a component born of carbon dioxide nanotubes (CNTs) that is actually switching the shade tire on its own mind. Concept your gathering welcomes in silver concepts, your system accessories and also eating sets in silver shades, your birthday cake having silver decorations, alongside your event chooses in silver or even platinum eagle styles. The natural different colors are actually even more confined in variety and also even more low-key than business dyes as well as provide a gentle, down-to-earth radiance to knitted or even interweaved anecdotes that many people love.

In Twentieth-Century Property Materials: Past History as well as Preservation, revised by Thomas C. Prankster, 52-57. The different colors brown and its own lighter models tan, beige, beige or cream produce exceptional histories aiding accompanying colors appear richer, brighter.

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arugsvilleuk-blog · 6 years

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Enjoy This Beautiful Journey and Know Deeply About Moroccan Rug & Kilims

In the Multiple Style of Designer Rugs, we learn why Kilims and Moroccan rug is so popular with interior designers. We get decorative inspiration from many amazing interiors and gain benefits of these homebase rugs. We like their most desired colors and patterns. But if you also want to enjoy the beauty of these rugs like its beautiful color, patterns, etc. then there are many things you should know about these rugs. So here in this blog, we will tell you about many things related to Moroccan rug and Kilims.

About Moroccan Rug

The Moroccan rugs UK full complement of modern and contemporary furniture and art for mid-century. Ihese rugs work beautifully with traditional decoration. A natural gray-and-white Moroccan colorful pillow with complex squares and traditional furniture can offer an unmatched in a complex ethnic pattern in the living room. Also, you can choose cream and gray Beni Ourain Rug of 70's chair and traditional leather sofa supplement. The natural cream and brown Moroccan style rugs fulfill the mid-century modern furniture in a living room.

History of Moroccan Rugs

Moroccan rugs around Morocco have been woven by tribals for more than 10,000 years to use as bed cover or decoration. In different areas, Moroccan tribes make specific types of homebase rugs. The tribes residing in the Atlas Mountains, making them thick, heavy stacked living room rugs to keep them warm in bed. People of Sahara desert knitting flat rug. Patterns passed from weavers next generation by weavers who do not have formal artistic training.

In the irregular and simple geometrical patterns, the cream & brown color of Moroccan rug made of natural non-colored wool is the most popular. Try more colorful Moroccan style rugs and special flat-knit rugs for more specific interiors.

About Kilim Rugs

Kilim rugs are extremely flexible and will go with almost any style of furniture. A yellow-brown Kilim rug with step diamond geometric patterns is a great complement to modern and traditional furniture. A custom Kilim rug museum with a rigid blue-colored ground and brown tooth border can provide an ideal anchor for quality paintings, antique Italian, French and English furniture. Red and gold in the office and library unchanged.

A kilim rug with natural bars in brown, cream and yellow-gray can adds beauty and texture to the porch of the screen. Natural colorful wool Kilim is an ideal supplement for the 19th Century table and the wicker armchair.

History of Kilim Rugs

Kilim or flatweave rug is handmade and available in every market in the world. Kilim rugs made by interweaving knitting yarn and warp yarn to make homebase rugs with a flat surface and no pile. The weft threads usually wool and appear on the surface of these kilim rugs and the warps made of strong cotton yarn which can not be seen as they completely covered with wool weights. Wild threads emerge on the edges of the rug, where they become fringe

Avoid similar rugs, which made from poor quality wool and cheap colors. Stay away from the large-scale patterns. Stay with the superior quality Kilim rugs and you'll enjoy them for a long time. Kilim rugs come in wide range of colors. Like from bold colored to natural non-colored wool homebase rugs

Where To Buy

These both types of living room rugs are the most popular around the world. Due to this, the authentic Moroccan rug found lesser in the market in comparison of Kilim rugs. So for these type of homebase rugs, you should a prominent rugs store. We also have the best collection of authentic Moroccan rug and kilims. Only here you can find both types of living room rugs made by expert weavers. To ensure about durability, we used the best quality material to craft these. So, don't wait and buy one for your home at an amazing discount.

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josephkitchen0 · 6 years

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Wool Knowledge is Power

By Virginia Scholomiti Except Where Noted, Photos Courtesy of www.shepherdstalk.com

Small niche markets for wool are not only well established but growing. This factor can be a great opportunity for smaller flock owners, who have smaller quantities of fiber available, enabling each fleece or group of fleeces to be judged and sold on its individual merits rather than as a large bulk commodity. This isn’t a judgment against large scale producers, rather an exploration of the smaller markets they typically don’t serve.

The best part is there is great potential to sell some of your fiber for a greater profit than a wool pool can normally offer. If you are willing to put some thought and planning, perhaps a little more work and a bit of extra time understanding our role as producers, the payoff can be worth it.

This is a huge topic with many interesting twists and turns and it may take several articles to really scratch the surface, giving both newer wool producers and more experienced folks some useful and inspiring information.

As with almost all farming-related endeavors, focusing on and improving the farm’s wool sales will probably not land you on the Forbes list of the wealthy, but it can improve your bottom line and may turn something you have thought of as a byproduct into a paying asset.

Shepherds start their flocks with many priorities and goals in mind. For many, the wool produced by their flocks isn’t of much consequence. That may make total sense for your farm if your flock goals are already being achieved: Breeders prioritize genetics choices when planning breeding programs.

Sometimes, putting a high emphasis on the type and quality of fiber produced from our flocks may have been overlooked in pursuing other goals. Perhaps it’s time to rethink that strategy.

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Are Such Market Substantial?

Let’s look at some facts:

• The National Needlearts Association, in its 2016 Market Summary, surveyed over 15,000 individual fiber enthusiasts. They found that 98 percent of spinners indicated wool was their preferred fiber. And the average amount each spinner spent on spinning supplies per year was $1,200.

• Eighteen percent of those spinners spent $2,000 to $4,000 or more for one year’s supply of spinning materials.

• The textile crafts oriented publisher Interweave Press has listed 425 spinning guilds nationwide in their guild directory. Think of how many individual members might be in each guild.

Just for fun, I searched the internet video site YouTube for “spinning yarn” and it returned 126,000 video titles on this topic. Choosing one, titled “How to Spin Yarn on a Spinning Wheel,” I found that one video had been viewed 378,000 times.

Next, let’s look at Facebook. (Keep in mind that certainly not all spinners or fiber enthusiasts use Facebook—or may not use a computer at all, for that matter—so this will only be a sample indication of interest in the broader general public.)

Facebook has individual pages, but also has groups you can join that focus on specific topics:

• I chose a group called “Fiber Artists and Yarn Spinners” and it has 24,301 members.

• Another group focused on knitting had 19,000 members.

• One group that focuses only on “Fleece and Fiber” had 2,500 individual members.

Not exactly a scientific way to come to conclusions, but effective nonetheless.

Those may seem like pretty dry statistics and pretty far removed from the daily chores and thoughts involved with shepherding our flocks.

But consider:

We are the source, the producers of wool fibers.

We have the opportunity to produce what these fiber ‘addicts’ seek.

We are, in fact, the experts on our flocks (some buyers actually look to the producer to help them decide what to do with the fiber).

We control the production, type and quality of the fleece. The more we arm ourselves with information, the more likely we are to improve our product and find outlets for our fleeces. I dare say some of us, having done that, may even begin to put a higher priority on the fiber when making breeding choices.

Not all wool need be used for garments and rugs. Yes, that’s a lampshade. Niche markets for wool are everywhere.

Yes, But Who, In Particular, Would Buy My Fleeces?

One of the most exciting and encouraging elements to this is that the market demands an extremely wide variety of fibers, sometimes the more unique, the better. That means flocks should stay diverse, not trying to all move in the same direction, as that would be self-defeating.

Those seeking our fleeces range from the mainstream, more conservative or “traditional” spinners and knitters, to the more experimental, who seek to push the envelope on fiber arts. But the majority fall somewhere in between.

There are hand spinners (of course), indie dyers (independent, small-scale wool buyers who arrange to have the wool spun into yarn and then dye it themselves), felters (both dry and wet felting, needle felting and machine felting), weavers, folks who knit or crochet, those who do rug hooking, or locker hooking, or macramé, or who create wall hangings, or lampshades, or who stuff pillows and comforters and on and on.

What’s the point?

Each of these processes and artists or crafters are looking for very different individual characteristics from the wool fiber they seek. Without a general knowledge of what fiber your sheep produce—and how it is best used—you may be at a disadvantage.

Just as a cook seeks perfect ingredients for that special recipe and carefully examines the type and quality of produce at a local farmers market, fiber folks are equally discriminating when seeking wool fibers for a specific purpose.

Are you aware that the base wool used for socks is quite different than that used for hats? That fiber with great potential for use an infant’s layette is unlikely to be suitable for winter mittens?

Did you know spinners are extremely discerning about what fibers will perform well with various different spinning techniques and projects?

Different fibers take dyes differently, felt more (or less) easily, or have different amounts of lanolin. The wool’s crimp and curl characteristics affect how the fiber reacts, as does the staple length, diameter and handle.

Thankfully, the saying “a rose is a rose is a rose” does not apply to wool: The wide palette of fibers produced by widely varying sheep breeds is exactly what makes our fiber so universally coveted.

Wool is often used in decorative furnishings.

Wool Requirements

Here is some very general information.

Durability demands a strong, perhaps longer fiber, to stand up well to abrasion. Rug wool is generally the strongest and most durable and that can include hair fibers that give extra strength to the finished product.

Some folks separate the dual coated breeds and use the longer, stronger, less fine fibers for things like rugs, where the strength is put to good use.

There are also special ways to prepare and spin yarn for extra durability and strength. You can imagine that you would not want to do a tremendous amount of work making a rug only to have it wear thin in spots right away.

There are specific ways to spin yarn for strength, and a strong multiply or cabled yarn is helpful here. Socks demand durability for longevity, but spinners are a flexible bunch and will sometimes blend nylon into the fiber before spinning to give it strength.

Some of the long wools, mainly the luster longwools have a lovely lustrous fleece that falls easily into open curls or ringlets. The fiber grows quickly and tends to produce the longest staple length per year. Little to no kemp in the fibers give many long wools a lovely handle. These fibers are quite versatile. Some like to spin them to produce a worsted type of yarn, which has a less lofty effect and provides more “drape” to the finished article. The locks of the long wool are frequently in high demand for their outstanding individual character.

Wearable items made of wool don’t have to be garments, per se.

Bouncy, elastic fiber (from the medium wools, and some long wools) is frequently used in warm wooly outerwear. These are very versatile fibers.

The more air spun into the yarn, the warmer it is. The spin used for a wooly project is typically a “woolen” spin, which is a particular technique used by spinners to actually keep as much air in the yarn as possible, giving it a round, buoyant feel. The fleeces are a bit more open than the finewools, but denser than the longwools as a general rule. They grow less length than the longwools per year, but more than the fines.

Long, stout, shiny fibers give lustrous durability to garments that need it most.

Finewools are synonymous with next-to-the-skin softness. These breeds produce a tiny, crimped-very-fine and soft fiber. The fleeces are usually very tightly packed together and grow more slowly, producing a shorter staple length in a year’s clip. Put your hands into a lovely finewool fleece and you will immediately recognize the softness.

Some of the meat breeds growers may be familiar with are “Down” breeds. They also produce fiber that can be in demand. Generally, these breeds are fine-to-medium wools, but the emphasis has historically not been on the fiber they produce. That is changing in many places, and people are appreciating these fibers. Their shorter staple causes some hand spinners to have difficulty spinning them, but for those who persevere, a lovely yarn is produced.

Finewool feels good touching skin; Medium wool gives bounce and elasticity.

Hearing from those who desire your fiber, learning what they may be looking for and knowing how to discuss the attributes, gives you opportunity to step up your game.

Knowledge about what types of fibers are sought after—what purposes and the characteristics folks are seeking—can only help when looking at understanding and improving the quality of the product you produce. It also just may give you the confidence to try marketing your fiber and the tools to be successful.

Originally published in the May/June 2018 issue of sheep!.

Wool Knowledge is Power was originally posted by All About Chickens

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