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snow-system-wol · 8 months ago

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A set of (six) small tales covering from after S'ria and Thancred's argument until the end of the Rak'tika Greatwood arc.

Ao3

S'ria had known to expect this sort of thing, with Urianger muttering to himself and Y'shtola giving him that wary look. He hadn't quite expected it to be so soon, though, or quite so easy to overhear.

“I tire of these games, Urianger. Why do you pretend you cannot see it?!”

Oh, to have heard whatever preceded that. For someone who very clearly seemed to be aware of the Warrior of Light situation, S'ria would've liked to have known how dubiously Urianger had responded to Y'shtola’s questioning.

S'ria stifled a laugh. He shouldn't be standing here listening, not really – but Y'shtola should not be talking about him, behind his back, at such a raised volume either.

It was nothing S'ria couldn't guess. Y'shtola had not mistaken his aether for that of a Lightwarden purely by accident – and yet, was there really such a problem? He'd felt sick for a moment or two both times, but then he was fine. She spoke as if there was something horrible happening to him, and he couldn't decide whether he was more angry that she was privately debating his fate or whether he was more… scared.

S'ria didn't know which of the two frightened him more. Y'shtola, who spoke as though it was already likely too late for him. Or Urianger, who refused to tell even her what his assessment was.

The rational part of his brain, in that unclear way where he could not even tell if it was his own thought or distantly Menphina's, reminded him to calm down. That he should listen to the actual way Y'shtola spoke about him – she cared, she didn't accept this as an inevitable loss.

S'ria felt that it was a sweet sentiment – sweeter still if said to his face, though.

----------

S'ria did not intend to trust Emet-Selch, and that would likely remain the case for the foreseeable future. If anything, he'd be more inclined to give him a chance if he would stop transparently complaining about their lack of goodwill towards him. It felt like… well, S'ria wasn't even sure what to make of it, aside from an attempt to be a nuisance. He'd think that the performative complaints of how – oh, he'd done this kind thing for the Scions and they still would not accept him – were something for Emet-Selch to internalize as a reason to sabotage collaboration. He'd think that, if it were not obvious that Emet-Selch didn't much believe what he was saying either, nor was he really pretending to.

S'ria was still grateful for his promise to return Y'shtola, even if he could not fathom why Emet-Selch would offer. There was no reason to refuse, with Y'shtola already lost to them without his aid. Any little tricks would hardly leave them worse off.

Despite his…recently re-worsened feelings towards Y'shtola, he missed her. If anything, today had been a reminder of how deeply she cared for people. The look in her eyes and completely lack of hesitation while diving after the antidote... S'ria felt that his misgivings may have been unfair, even if being spoken about in secret was unpleasant.

It was with no complaints that S'ria roamed the Greatwoods looking for just the right spot for Emet-Selch’s needs. He wondered if other people could feel the ebb and flow of aether, where it is stronger and weaker – those that were used to using it and casting spells. S'ria could… not feel any difference between the spots where the lantern was dim or bright.

The Ascian likely would have been able to feel the slightest of changes. S'ria wondered how he even saw the world – right before he started his work, he'd muttered to himself to ask what color her soul had been, and S'ria could not help but be immensely curious for a moment. What color was it? Or what were any of theirs, for that matter? Was it even a normal color that could be seen by his very mortal eyes?

S'ria sighed in relief as his attempts at collecting Y'shtola seemed to find purchase. As the aether coalesced into the rough shape of a human form, a body beginning to knit itself back together, S'ria averted his eyes some few fulms to the side. He'd seen this once before, and that already felt like enough of a discourtesy to her.

S'ria had been slightly concerned that Emet-Selch would say something, anything, about Y'shtola’s inevitable state of undress. S'ria could not help but be grateful that he simply snapped his fingers and summoned her clothes onto her body with nary a stray comment on the matter.

Perhaps he didn't feel the need to try to antagonize them at every turn. S'ria would not spurn small mercies.

When the others escorted Y'shtola back to Fanow for her to rest a few hours and be checked over, S'ria hovered behind for a few moments. He thanked Emet-Selch again, for saving her (and for showing basic decency, though he did not add that part out loud.) With just the two of them, Emet-Selch quiet for the moment and S'ria speaking without hostility, it felt like a normal conversation for a brief second. He fixed S'ria with a look that was… indiscernible, but somehow pained.

And then the moment passed, with Emet-Selch rather brusquely informing him that he didn't actually need the gratitude and would rather S'ria stop with the heroic platitudes.

----------

S'ria had agreed to be hands-off with regards to Thancred's decisions, to best keep the peace (even if the delivery of said agreement had really bordered on mocking.) That agreement proved difficult within the next sun.

It was difficult to hold his tongue. Surely the conversation happening a few fulms to his left was rather related to the last few days, and he felt guilty for any role he played in that.

Minfilia had fought alongside them before, with the Fuath. They made a good group – she seemed extremely comfortable with Thancred's fighting style, fairly comfortable with interacting with Urianger on the battlefield, and settled in easily alongside himself as a fellow Rogue. There wasn't even an issue with her getting particularly hurt or endangered, no more so than the usual.

By all measures, it would have been fine for Minfilia to enter The Qitana Ravel with them.

But here Thancred was, insisting she return to Fanow to wait for their return – to her obvious dismay. She only protested briefly before falling silent, and S'ria could feel her eyes on his back – wondering if he was hearing, and if so, why he wouldn't be vouching for her. S'ria busied himself checking the cutting edge of his daggers for any severe knicks or damage, something that could at least pass as focused preparations before the upcoming fight.

S'ria hated to deny her what she'd likely hoped for from him, but when Thancred turned back towards him with nothing but tiredness and faint relief in his eyes, S'ria knew he'd made the right choice. He'd promised not to undermine, after all. Whatever fragile peace this was would likely not have survived immediately arguing with this decision.

S'ria could not truly disagree. With the Eulmorrans having already retreated from the vicinity of Fanow, he did not wholly mind the idea of her not needing to fight a Lightwarden for the first time.

(And, if it had some sort of visible negative effect on S'ria to slay another, she didn't need to watch that.)

----------

S'ria braced for it, as though that'd help. For a moment it was gentle, the light ebbing into him slowly. And then it was not, hitting him with the same inevitability of accidentally swallowing something scalding hot and knowing there was not a single thing left to do but endure the mistake.

It was not agonizing so much as it was just overwhelming.

The brief dizziness and nausea was not quite as bad as the temperature experience was. His body was clearly fighting it, spiking fever hot under duress. His preferred coat suddenly felt far too warm for the moment. And yet, even as the heat lingered, there was a chill that seeped into his bones. His fingertips were entirely numb and shoving them into his pockets did little to help. If he was too warm, how was he also so cold?

There were eyes on him, though, he had to remember. It was easy to remember. His skin crawled with it, the very knowledge that someone was looking at him made him want to snap.

Despite the feeling, the observation itself meant he could not do that. He suppressed the shivering of his body, too, to the best of his ability.

With the physical effects starting to abate, there was simply a strange aimless fear left in him – but being able to look up at the night sky made it settle just slightly.

----------

S'ria stood in “Master Matoya’s” room, the dim light of the room a balm on a fresh headache. He was still faintly shivering – but perhaps she would not be able to tell, really.

“Thank you for coming”. Y'shtola’s voice was solemn. “I thought to keep my suspicions to myself, but after witnessing your victory at Rak’tika Falls, I fear they prove true, and so I must share them with you.”

S'ria smiled crookedly. “I appreciate that you decided not to follow through with your first idea. It was unnerving for you to be hiding something so blatantly. Well, then?”

Y'shtola winced briefly before she settled into something neutral. “From the first when we met at Fort Gohn, your aether has appeared…tainted. Suffused with an overabundance of light not unlike the sin eaters.” She tilted her head in consideration. “When you defeated the Lightwarden, I fear the light which poured forth from it was not negated by Hydaelyn’s blessing. Rather, it was absorbed into your being.”

A confused frown settled onto S'ria's face. Was this meant to be new information? “I… had already known that much, with the way you nearly had me killed before you heard my voice. And the second part – is that an important difference? As long as I can handle it, it doesn't matter exactly what's happening to the light, right?”

Y'shtola’s grip on her staff tightened, the wood just slightly creaking. “I believe it does matter. Urianger also suspects as much, though he is unwilling to share his thoughts on the matter.”

It was a relief for Y'shtola to be so open with him, surprisingly quick and surprisingly frank about it all. Nothing she said sounded worth keeping a secret, really. If they'd actually asked whether the light felt destroyed or still a part of him, he'd have been able to easily answer that question. But he did not need to resent that, now that this was open.

Something pivoted a bit in S'ria's mind then, at fully processing her words. If Y'shtola’s conjectures were simply that something seemed wrong and he was likely in some vague danger, why would Urianger be so unwilling to so much as discuss the prospect? Y'shtola and Urianger often kept things to themself for a bit, but for her to deem it time for S'ria to be informed while Urianger refused to speak on it…

If Y'shtola was trying to turn S'ria against Urianger, to loop him in alongside her own doubts and suspicions, it was working. He'd always been cagey, but Y'shtola was dropped secrecy because she felt it was best for S'ria's safety. So what, then, was Urianger’s aim?

S'ria had felt aimlessly anxious, unable to settle down, skin crawling, but the thought of Urianger betraying his trust made him want to bite first and ask questions later.

No, he was fine. Urianger was the one keeping him alive the whole ordeal that evening, there was…nothing to…worry about. He swore, if Urianger meant him harm, he should be well aware of that by now.

It didn't help much, to try to convince himself, but it was at least enough to keep the veneer of normalcy in place.

S'ria realized Y'shtola was talking, having briefly dissociated out of the conversation.

“ –every Warden you defeat, the danger to you grows greater. Greater perhaps than we can imagine. If you begin to feel anything strange – anything at all – pray inform me at once.”

Anything? That ship had long since sailed.

S'ria would have difficulty describing why he did what he did next. It was the lingering fear, the sense that Y'shtola trusted him now but would not if he told her what'd been happening the whole time – that she'd hear him describe how it felt and she'd brand him on the verge of becoming a monster – the paranoia that no one could know it already was affecting him since the beginning.

With not a moment's thought or hesitation, S'ria opened his mouth and lied.

----------

After S'ria had returned from Eulmore, he'd found sleeping in his bed intolerable. It made memories bubble up too easily and made them feel more real when they did. He'd turned to his tried and true solution for sleeping easier after nightmares – moving to the floor.

It was far less comfortable than home though, with only a single pillow and blanket pulled from the bed – and lying half on rug and half on tile.

S'ria had sheepishly gone downstairs to ask for an extra pillow or two. It was still quite terrible, really, and he'd even more hesitantly asked for another the following night. He told himself very firmly that he would not ask for more after that, with his actions surely already being worthy of judgment (or, if nothing else, he was being a nuisance.)

Even if he was still waking up sore, it was at least slightly better than before – and most importantly, he was getting decent sleep at all.

Now, as S'ria trudged up the stairs after returning from the Greatwoods while feeling exhausted in delightful new ways, he was somewhat dreading how the floor may treat his battle-weary body.

Perhaps if he'd considered a certain someone's insistence on asking after his needs and tending to his well-being after his ordeals, it would not have been such a surprise. As was, though, S'ria was absolutely not expecting there to be around a dozen spare pillows stacked on his bed, and an extra blanket added besides.

He smiled to himself as he arranged his little floor nest into somewhere he was excited to sleep. Many of the pillows did not match each other and none of them matched the basic ones provided by the Pendants – no, even if he didn't already have suspicions about who to thank, the distinctly Allagan patterning of some of them suggested exactly what sort of location they may have been sourced from.

#snow-system #ffxiv-oc #ffxiv-reactions #s'ria 🌸❄️#writings #another 'interlude' write-up where we write a bunch of diff small scenes ha #see previous art post for Floor Nest visuals #FIXED THE ITALICS #sorry sometimes they break and the first letter deitalicizes when I copy from ao3 Idk Why #oops

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therewillalwaysbeapril · 5 years ago

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Chapter 4: Sixteen Hours

6:30 AM The alarm rang abruptly in the stillness of the morning, a rude shrill noise, splintering our warm, nocturnal embrace and throwing us both into the coldness of the day.

“April, we gotta get up”, I said, mumbling as I shook off the last remnants of sleep. She groaned softly, rolling over and pulling the covers away. “Hey, get up. Geee-tta UGH-PUUUU! Get TU DA CHOPPAH!” I did my terrible Arnold Schwarzenegger impression loudly and poorly, adding in a loud grunt for full effect.

“Argh, I need muh clothes, my boots, my motorcykalll”, she said, in the same bad Austrian accent without opening her eyes. “Come ONN, do it. Do it Nah-OW!”

Stumbling out of bed, vision still blurry, and nearly tripping over the corner of the blanket now fallen to the floor, I reached over and grabbed from the basket the first item of clothing on the pile of clean laundry that we neglected to fold from the previous night. I pulled open the top drawer of her dresser and felt around for a bra. I threw both toward the bed as I made my way to the bathroom. April put on her top as she stood up. Hair a mess and eyes barely open, April exuded a dreamy, other-worldly quality as she floated from the bed to the sink wearing the dark red floral patterned shirt dress I had bought for her the weekend before. I blow dried my hair into a more presentable state and shaved as she washed her face and finished combing her hair.

I packed April’s belongings into her backpack for her, the both of us hurrying downstairs to my car. After stopping by a McDonald’s drive-thru on the way, we ate Egg McMuffins sitting in the early traffic heading toward Downtown LA. I looked at her as she opened a ketchup packet.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful!” she said, laughing as she carefully squirted the ketchup onto her hashbrown.

Briskly walking up the parking lot escalators and half-skipping across Pershing Square, April got to the bus stop just in time as the vehicle screeched to a halt. “WESTWOOD/SANTA MONICA” said the display. A quick kiss goodbye and she was off to class.

8:00 AM The office was dark as I stepped out of the elevator. Walking toward my desk, I was greeted by lights flickering on as motion sensors began to stir. Fresh cup of coffee in hand, I left the kitchen for the far side of the floor toward my favorite viewing spot.

The Los Angeles morning was peaceful when viewed from high above. Cars moved slowly down Broadway; I could hear their distant honking noises in the early rush hour. Construction workers below near Third Street walked carrying their equipment, passing by the shops just beginning to open in Grand Central Market. From my hawk’s nest I saw a cyclist zipping down Grand Avenue past the Museum of Contemporary Art, in front of which a food truck was beginning to set up shop. My breath and the steam from my coffee fogged the glass as I stepped closer to look at the crowd of people gathering by the Broad. The early light bathed my city in a warm amber glow, thawing its sleepy commuters as a new workday began. Flecks of gold and saffron twinkled as the dawn bounced from the stirring skyscrapers and automobiles, blinding me. I, too, was beginning to wake as I finished my coffee.

With my headphones on, back at my desk, I continued sketching out the wireframe concepts from the day before. Wireframes are the foundation of plotting out designs for interactive products such as apps and websites. They are a high level way of designing ways in which someone can use a product and the organization for which types of information and interaction appears on which screen, before a designer has to focus on the finer details such as animations, visual appearances, and the style of smaller items such as buttons. Even though the other designers created wireframes in programs I was also familiar with such as Adobe XD or Sketch, I always took great care in sketching out early ideas neatly on paper. I felt there was a purity in shaping ideas away from a computer, a kind of humility in making things with my hands.

8:30 AM The office is still dim as I make myself a second cup of coffee. This was one of those sluggish days; I felt slow to start, and was glad to still be the only person in the office. There was less pressure this way. I returned to my desk and cleaned up my lines with an eraser, reinforcing others with a Sharpie. Boxes with crisscrosses represented images, various other shapes representing icons and call-to-actions. Simple line patterns signified text, clearly showing the underlying grid to the layout. Adding final touches, I drew an outline of an iPhone over all of the screens before using a green colored pen to create the markings that showed how a user interacted and navigated from screen to screen. I felt pride for the cleanliness of my draft, as I never knew whether the second draft in the computer would be made by myself or a different designer. Finished, and satisfied with my work, I walked over to the simple Kanban board on the far wall and moved the task’s corresponding post-it note from the column labeled “in work” to the column labeled “done”.

Aside from a few coworkers from accounting, the floor was still mostly deserted. Sitting back and listening to the rest of Bach’s Goldberg Variations on my headphones, I fidgeted at my desk for a while. Impatient, I walked back over to the job board and grabbed one of the tasks from the column labeled “backlog” and moved it to “in work”. This should keep me occupied, I thought.

10:00 AM Standup was always kind of fun. Normally I have always preferred to work alone, with headphones on, lost in thought as I built designs and mockups, in an almost-meditative state of flow. However, I liked my coworkers very much, and it was also nice to see everyone at the beginning of the day and update one another on our work progress in the morning as we created the pieces of our product together. I enjoyed this kind of organized interaction that afforded me boundaries and space to create.

<Walalala..>, texted April. It was her way of greeting. Warm and cheerful, albeit at times a little silly, it was a greeting that I had come to love. It would also be a salutation I would receive less and less over time until I would not see it at all. <What you doing?>, she added.

<Lol. You should pay attention! I’m pretty tired too. I don’t think I woke up yet>

<Haha, I miss you a little too.>

<Pfft, you still need me to remind you?>

<Ha, you should pay attention in class. Your mom will kill me if you fail because of me>

11:00 AM Sketches spread out on the table before me, I began to create the second round of digital wireframes. As much as I enjoyed sketching, this step was also one of my favorite things to do. The useful aspect having hand sketches was their looseness — from a high level perspective, during this stage there were still so many possibilities. Creating the first digital wireframe versions, despite their inherent roughness, narrowed down those possibilities. To do so felt like taking a camera lens and turning it slowly into focus. At this stage, it was not a crisp focus, but much more recognizable as a coherent direction. The process was therapeutic as it was methodical; moving through it step by step, there was room to make improvements on the fly, perfecting each idea. However, today, my process of refinement would be interrupted by a different task.

There needed to be a version of our project for a new client, said marketing. A simple mockup of our app must be made in the style of our new client, a baseball team. The refinement of the new screen designs would have to wait. Grumbling to myself a little, I closed the program and neatly piled the sketches into my drawer.

<Heyyy, why u ignoring me?>

<Sorry, some other stuff came up at work>

<I’m sorry. Would you feel better if you ate something? What are you gonna get for lunch?>

<Expensive grass, haha>. “Expensive grass” was April’s name for salad. They always cost more than they should, she would remark.

<btw…>

<what’s wrong?> Nothing good ever happened when April said “by the way”.

<We’re not breaking up. We can make this work>

12:00 PM It is lunchtime. Mood now sour, I didn’t feel like leaving the building. After informing my deskmates that I was taking my lunch break, I grabbed a stale bagel from the kitchen and microwaved it with a slice of cheese. Taking that and a diet soda from the fridge, I returned to my viewing corner.

We had only recently moved into the forty fourth floor of the building from six floors above. The company had now grown bigger and the fiftieth floor was not enough space. However, it was only the design, marketing, and accounting teams on this floor, leaving most of it empty. In fact, we only occupied one corner, leaving the other three quiet and deserted. I enjoyed taking walks around the empty areas, sometimes even bringing my cello to work and practicing in one of the empty rooms during breaks. Today though, I only wanted to look outside and think.

Now midday there was visible smog in the Los Angeles air. Protestors were forming on Grand Avenue. I looked closer, curious as to the reason for this group. I could not make out the writing on their signs. A car accident was visible further down on the 2nd Street intersection, blocking it off. The authorities closed off one of the lanes, backing up traffic. A bus awkwardly took up both lanes as it attempted to merge into the available space. An adjacent driver made a rude hand gesture out of his window. I sighed, feeling exhausted as I learned against the wall near the window. I sat on the floor as I drank my soda and looked out of the floor to ceiling window, thinking. The conversation I thought of was not with April, but one with someone else, from a different day, in a different language.

•••

<Yeah, I took her to the airplane museum the other day.>

<Well, she kept asking me to stay over, and then I had to stay with her after she crashed her car. Lately though, she tells me she just doesn’t like it when I’m away. It feels weird, but I’m really happy with her and I love her, so I guess I’m not complaining. She’s been coming to work with me and taking the bus to school too>

<Hey, you should pace yourself. All couples need their space from time to time.>

<Maybe? Sometimes I go to work and five minutes after I leave she texts me that she misses me. I think she’s very sweet.>

<Okay, I’m just looking out for you. What if she turns out to be one of those possessive types?>

<Hey! I knew it!! Is that why you didn’t answer any of my calls or texts last winter in China?>

<Sorry. I guess it’s just weird, what happened between us.>

<Well, nothing happened between us!>

<I know! Well, I don’t know. You are one of my best friends, and what happened affected me very deeply. It may have been nothing to you, but it was definitely something to me.

<I’m sorry about that. I really am. I was as confused as you too. I never meant to be cruel. I hurt you, and I ended up hurting myself too.>

<I’m glad we’ve moved past it and we’re still friends>

<Yes, I remember. And I will keep my word. I just need to figure this out. She’ll come around eventually. I really think the two of you would become great friends.>

<Well, you gotta figure it out eventually, because this is just awkward what you’re doing>

•••

1:00 PM I snapped back to reality as my phone alarm went off. It was time to go back to work.

The caffeine was beginning to wear off. Still debating whether or not I should have a third cup of coffee, I flipped through the Android Material Design Guidelines online, pondering what visual branding treatments were acceptable within Google’s design parameters. Writing down the correct color hex values on a notepad, I began to change colors on app elements in Photoshop, reskinning the interface. The phone beeped again, as another text message arrived from April.

<I’m sorry. I want to stay with you too. But I’m so worried>

<About what?>, I answered.

<Yeah, but what if we DO break up eventually? You’re not a doctor and I’m supposed to marry a doctor.>

I stopped working. Taking off my glasses, I sat back in my chair, rubbing my forehead. I was getting very tired.

, I texted back.

<There’s nothing wrong with what I do. I am a designer and I’m good at it. I make a decent salary and I like my life>

<It’s different>

<Well that’s just your viewpoint. We’re just different, I guess>. I saved my work and walked to an empty conference room.

<Why do you even love me?>, I texted. My thumbs began to sweat. Typing was becoming difficult.

<I’m getting back to work>

I stomped back to my desk, angrily chucking my empty soda can into a nearby wastepaper basket. A couple of coworkers stared.

3:00 PM For the next two hours, I tried my best to focus on creating more animations. More interactions. I compared the mockups I made against the Android and Apple guidelines. So far, so good. Sending the finished mockups back to marketing, I went back to the kitchen and made myself the third cup of coffee.

I chugged the hot beverage, nearly searing my throat. I went back to designing the wireframes. There were only three hours left in the workday, and I originally wanted to have had this perfected at the end of the day.

<Are you done with class yet?>. There was no answer from April.

Frustrated, I placed my phone face down on the table and returned to the designs. These have to get done, I thought. So little time. Fuming, I angrily threw the boxes together on the computer screen, connecting the button hotspots together as violently as someone could inside a digital space.

“Hey are you ok?”. It was Julie, who sat across from me behind my monitor. “I can hear you breathing from here”

“I’m fine”, I said. I sat back in my chair and looked at what I’ve made. It was sloppy and nowhere near the level of detail that I have been known for around the office.

“Take a break man. I just got an email that we have until the end of the week for these screens now”

“Oh…”

“Yeah. You can just chill”

“I think I’m gonna take a walk then.”

4:00 PM I looked at my watch as I waited in the elevator. Who does she think she is, I thought. So what if I’m not a doctor? Life can’t only be about status. I was so mad. That is such a shallow way of thinking! And it wasn’t me who started all this. I was just minding my own business working. She was the one who had to bring up Taiwan, and her parents’ crazy expectations for who she should be dating.

I walked outside briskly in the shade of the tall buildings. It was much louder now that I left the lobby. A street performer was beating a drum across the intersection. A crazy person was yelling about the end of times on the other corner. Good. Noisy enough that no one could see how angry I was.

And I hated the way she texted. How am I supposed to always be at her beck and call? I have a job to do; I can’t be there to simply answer every time she worries about crazy hypotheticals. I was doing fine today, I should’ve simply not answered. And now that she’s finished ruining my day, she’s stopped texting and has gone back to whatever she’s doing leaving me to pick up the pieces. Every single month, we have to have some fight about something completely stupid like this. Every single month —

Oh.

April had complained about being tired. April had experienced stomach pains during class. I counted the days since the last time I remembered similar complaints. There were many things I remembered for her. April could be so forgetful.

“Twenty-seven, twenty-eight….”, I counted in my head. I knew what she was going to need.

I stopped at the Rite Aid on 5th and Broadway. Quickly making my way through the aisles, I picked up a pack of Ibuprofen, a box of what appeared to be feminine pads, and a bottle of water. The cashier handed me the items in a paper bag after I made my purchase. Strolling further south, I began to think about what transpired.

Did she really mean all that she said? Perhaps a deeper question was, WHICH of what she said did she actually mean? You can’t tell someone you love them for who they are but also want to change them, I thought. Girls just say crazy things during their time of month right? I checked my phone.

Still no answer.

This is bad, I thought. Perhaps I was too harsh. Her car is in working condition. She chose to take the bus because she genuinely wanted to spend time with me. And now she’s probably on the bus home, in pain. All for me. I’m such a jerk, I thought.

Ducking into Bottega Louie on 7th, I bought a box of half dozen French macarons. They were rather pricey, but came in a beautiful box and were, I had heard, delicious. The small rigid box was not unlike jewelry packaging, with beautiful calligraphy and gold speckles dotted throughout its powder purple surface. It was a small gift that was sure to brighten up anyone who was having a less than perfect day.

6:30 PM The workday was now over as I closed my work laptop and packed away my things. The bus from UCLA arrived as I waited on a bench in Pershing Square.

“Hey what took you so long?”, I asked as I took April’s bag from her.

“I had the most horrible day!” she said.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize I sounded so mean—

“No, not you! My period started and I forgot to bring pads so I had to use tissues. And my phone died, and then the bus had to take a detour. So I needed to get off and wait for another bus, but I couldn’t use Google Maps and I’m so tired and I just want something to eat”

“Well, first things first I guess”

I handed her the box of macarons and discreetly showed her what was in the paper bag. “Let’s find a bathroom,” I said.

She looked into the paper bag. She looked at me. She started giggling, the happiest I’ve seen her all week.

“What? What is it?”

“Have you never bought pads before?”

“Well, no, but I figured you needed them. Was I right?”

“Those are panty liners, not pads!”

“Oh.”

“It’s okay, I’ll be alright. Cmon, let’s eat”

•••

8:30 PM After April had a chance to change, I took her to a nearby Hong Kong styled cafe. It would be nice to have some porridge, she said.

As we sat down and waited for our food, by reflex I folded April’s chopstick wrapper into an origami chopstick stand, as I have always done since our first date. I looked out the window into the dark.

The San Gabriel traffic outside was a lot calmer compared to the city. It was quiet and I could just make out the sounds of crickets. A high school couple walked out of the boba shop across the street, laughing to themselves, carefree. An elderly man picked out a newspaper from a box near the entrance. I felt a soft caress on my forearm.

April handed me a crudely folded flower made from a chopstick holder.

“I’m sorry about today. I keep forgetting how to fold that fancy origami, but I want to thank you for taking care of me.”

She smiled the familiar funny smile.

•••

9:30 PM As we walked in the darkness at a nearby park, digesting our meal, I stayed quiet. How can I make all nights like tonight?, I thought. Is there really an expiration date to our happiness?

Perhaps reading my mind, April said, “I don’t know what we’ll do if I really have to leave…”

I looked at her and kissed her forehead.

“Whatever”, she added. “If I have to go back to Taiwan, I guess I’ll just get another boyfriend, and it’ll be a doctor this time! HA HA!”

I did not laugh.

I let go of her hand and walked a few paces ahead, sullen.

“I’m kidding!” April grabbed my arm. “I really do love you, alright?”

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thenatureofrefuge · 7 years ago

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My Island Refuge Part 1

This is my tent in the woods and also the grove that is my front lawn where i park my truck and enter and exit the other world. I made this tent place with the help of dear friends and a monumental amount of hard work, i have built my own house, my own tent house and its quite fabulous. I call it Shangri-La as i am most often a phonetic and creative speller so emphasis is on the “Gri’ part and a dramatic flourish on the “La”. The tent is an 16x16 foot old military tent, hence the camouflage of green in green and smells of aged, damp canvas and subtle moss - and also hay as i have used hay as mulch inside and outside the perimeter of my tent’s imprint and so my home smells strongly of clean barn. All this beautiful green and softer air is whats happening now at the end of July, its was much different when i started in the beginning of April. This is what i began with:

The military tent originally was in the pictured grove at the top of this post that is located across the way from this photo’s perspective. A great group of friends helped me dismantle the canvas and metal beast, load it into the back of my truck, drive around to another access point and haul the bits and pieces down an incredibly steep incline to the base of the ravine that was to be my future home. Two of us reassembled the frame so i would know my clear cutting imprint, that just two of us managed to accomplish this feat was nothing short of miraculous, this whole project rode on a song and a prayer. This machete and i became great, violent friends as i chopped and hacked and skewered and sawed at the roots and stumps and ferns and salmonberry bushes. A great mud pit was created and after i leveled it to prepare for the tent platform that was to be built so i had a floor off the muck, i got to this point:

Not much of a wide angle visual difference, but believe me, blood sweat and tears have been poured into this square footage by this stage. So now the clear cutting was done. Again, wonderful friends helped in lowering the tent frame and attaching all the clever military canvas swathes and laced them together - i have to give it up to our military engineers, that tent is a constructional work of genius art how it all fits together, not a single nail or screw holds that thing together - and raised the behemoth back to its feet and drove in the securing stakes, i did that last bit alone that felt like a finalizing ritual that rooted me there in that sweet, sacred little piece of land, my place, my sanctuary i was building from scratch. Now it was time to create the tent platform. At this point it was getting to be close to the end of April and i had only secured temporary housing that i agreed to vacate on May 1st, i had nothing else lined up and the pressure was on to finish the tent house so i had somewhere to be. Also, i hadn’t purchased the big badass truck yet that i now have and take naps in sometimes so that wasn’t an option at my disposal. Enter, two cool dudes who took my supplies that i purchased from the mainland or commandeered from nearby and helped haul down the crazy steep ravine trail and once at the bottom, made me a tent platform in about a half hour.

Each one of those blue pallets weigh about 50lbs no joke, there are sixteen of them that make up the diameter of my floor and each one of those plywood sheets are in their own way, equally a pain in the butt to get down the ravine trail, another friend and i i both fell on said butts a couple of times carrying them down. One everything was down at the bottom, the two cool dudes were quick and skilled as they are professional carpenters and i stood by on that one and watch as they drilled and cut and used cool dude tools, Orcas Island elves that magicked up a tent house floor and then were gone, I was amazed. This is what they made:

The next step was figuring out how to soak up moisture and keep the damp to a minimum. All of this, this whole project, was totally brand new to me so in each step of the way i’d come up against the next thing that needed addressing to keep this house project moving forward and i say, “huh,” to myself and then ask out loud to the nearest human what they thought would be a good solution and then i’d wing it and swing it to the next project branch. Someone suggested hay for the mud bath outside my tent as mulch and i thought also to fill up the gap between the tent walls and the lip of the platform, it would smell nice. There was a tarp laid down under the pallets but my sanctuary space is surrounded on three sides by a lovely little creek and in combination with the Pacific Northwest’s overall rainy, damp habitat, its still damp down there and we are currently in high summer and it hasn’t rained in a month. So, the hay back in wet April. I ask around, there’s a Facebook page called Orcas Buy, Sell, and Trade where everyone on the island does their business, i posted a need for hay and a friend answered that her and her husband had a bunch that i could have for free. I drive over there and learn the sad tale that their beloved horse Flicka was just put down that past week as she had broken her leg, my friends hearts were also now broken and no longer needed her hay. Another ceremonial moment presented itself as the three of us transfered Flicka’s special hay into the back of the truck, I’m taking some serious Horse Spirit animal medicine back to my sanctuary and i thank her silently as i drive away. I bring way too much hay down it turns out but its now piled artfully in the corner of the tent and its a soft nest lining as you could want.

Now it is a few days away from May 1st and the project is almost done, its livable and i carry a big smile with me where ever i go. I have a vision of a gypsy beduin tent style deal down in my new tent house, piled carpets, candelabras, fabrics hanging and scattered about, an alter somewhere, books. I raid the local thrift store in town, check on fabrics and pillows. My friend has a prop house for his catering business, score on the candelabras and a few other items. I post again that i need carpets and a lovely young man that i never see again drives over from the other side of the island and delivers a very nice light green huge carpet, my mom supplies the rest of the carpets that she had in storage that i end up piling on each other artistically when i make a run to the mainland for supplies, love you Mom. Then my main man thats been my partner in all this has a queen bed for me, we muscle it down that crazy trail again, once more we make it down without breaking our backs. It all comes together right about the 1st of May, i move in and set it all up and this is what i made:

My Shangri-La. I’ve added a few pieces of hanging material panels and you can’t quite see the elaborate alter i have in one corner but this sanctuary is beautiful and rich and peaceful, a magic place surrounded by green and blue and gold.

i can’t say enough thanks to all the amazing people that helped me create my safe, special place that i live and create in now. One friend in particular who’s bright idea this all was, has been the main cohort in all these crazy shenanigans, His help along with many others made this all come together and gave me a sense of belonging to a community of people when i had been feeling tossed and lost in a life storm that made me quite vulnerable for the previous year and a half. When i needed a safe place to breathe and gather strength, these people helped me achieve my sense of refuge and i thank them. When you need help, ask for it. Its that simple and then you get to extend help to someone else at another time or repay the person who helped you when they need it and thats how the wonderful word reciprocity and all its powerful meaning works, its great.

This is the meaning of Refuge.

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jobsearchtips02 · 4 years ago

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PHOTOS: Look inside a pre-Revolutionary war estate in Charleston

This historical pink mansion lies at 69 Church St. in Charleston, South Carolina.

Courtesy of Maison Realty.

An over 8,000 square feet huge pre-Revolutionary war house in Charleston, South Carolina is on the marketplace, valued at almost $10 million.

Integrated in the mid-18 th century, the estate sits on Church Street, which the New York Post called among the city’s “most stunning streets.”

The seven-bedroom mansion is total with 15 fireplaces, a ballroom, and a secret garden.

Take a look inside the historic house.

See Company Insider’s homepage for more stories

The mansion, situated on Church St. in the South of Broad neighborhood of Charleston is on the marketplace for nearly $10 million.

Courtesy of Maison Property.

Source: Maison Real Estate

The house has ceilings going beyond 11 feet on all 3 floorings.

Courtesy of Maison Property.

Source: Maison Realty

The second flooring of the estate includes a ballroom and a drawing-room.

Courtesy of Maison Property.

Source: Maison Real Estate

Integrated In 1745, the home has a total of 15 fireplaces and a cypress-paneled library.

Thanks To Maison Real Estate.

Source: Maison Real Estate

The existing owners purchased the home in 1998 and remodelled it thoroughly to what it presently looks like.

Thanks To Maison Realty.

Source: Maison Property

Before that, Anthony and Jessica Cecil purchased the home in 1969 and ran a bed and breakfast.

Courtesy of Maison Realty.

Source: Maison Property

The listing says your house was “thoroughly harmed” throughout the Civil War. Eliza Middleton Huger Smith bought and brought back the house in 1869.

Courtesy of Maison Realty.

Source: Maison Property

At one time, the estate is said to have housed Colonel Jacob Motte, who was treasurer of the South Carolina nest for near to three years.

Courtesy of Maison Property.

Source: Maison Real Estate

The listing boasts an authentic Georgian design in its interior decoration.

Courtesy of Maison Realty.

Source: Maison Property

Georgian style is identified in part by balance, according to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, as well as classical detailing, like arches and pillars.

Courtesy of Maison Property.

Source: The Metropolitan Museum of Art

This is represented in the house’s fireplace moldings, woodworking details on the library walls, and stairwells.

Thanks To Maison Property.

Source: Maison Realty

This is the entry to the kitchen area, which is in a separate building from the primary home.

Courtesy of Maison Realty.

Source: Maison Real Estate

The kitchen includes a large island and has windows overlooking the residential or commercial property’s lavish gardens

Courtesy of Maison Real Estate.

Source: Maison Real Estate

The building that houses the cooking area likewise has a family room, 2 bedrooms, and 2 full restrooms.

Courtesy of Maison Property.

Source: Maison Property

Every bedroom in the home has an en suite bathroom. This is an unusual feature in historic houses, according to the listing.

Thanks To Maison Property.

Source: Maison Real Estate

Outdoors, there are five garden spaces with high brick walls for personal privacy …

Thanks To Maison Property.

Source: Maison Realty

Large heirloom bushes wall some parts of the garden.

Courtesy of Maison Realty.

Source: Maison Property

Among the garden rooms has an outhouse.

Thanks To Maison Property.

Source: Maison Property

Another one is complete with a swimming pool. The listing says it is one of the very first ones ever made in downtown Charleston.

Thanks To Maison Real Estate.

Source: Maison Property

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drewebowden66 · 7 years ago

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Two Modern, Minimalist Homes That Indulge in Lots of White

When you think about the idea of indulgent of decadent design, your mind may immediately turn to thoughts of gold plated appliances and overstuffed club chairs — homes of a stuffy upper class from days of yore. But today, one of the most indulgent popular styles is actually minimalism. These simple homes, devoid of clutter and even color, are representative of an aspirational lifestyle for most of us. White on white design melts perfectly in with the idea of minimalism, keeping even colors practically missing from an interior. It’s clean and stylish, if not entirely practical. But as you explore the two homes featured in this piece, you’ll get a chance to see for yourself just how versatile and luxurious a white home can feel.

Designer: DNA Concept Design Photographer: Hey!Cheese Photography The first home features is an 890 square feet (82 square meters) home designed for a newly married couple.

The couple had a traditional Chinese wedding, consisting of lots of vibrant red accessories, but wanted their home, from its flooring to its wall shelves, to be much more subdued.

A mostly white interior in this clean, minimalist style can be exceptionally calming.

Even the design of the ceiling slopes and curves gently in a way that feels serene.

Being able to find a version of white that can match in varied materials, like ceiling, walls, and coffee tables, can be a challenge in the minimalist design project.

Shades of white can differ just as much as shades of grey, with undertones that are blue or yellow, cool or warm.

The white in this particular home is a cooler tone, allowing for cool wood flooring as well as gray upholstery for the sofa.

The simple white dining area features modern dining chairs and a dining table, both with black bases, bringing a dark element into the space.

On the shelf in the dining room, an Eames Bird and indoor house plant add a spark of personality to the minimalist space.

A sprig of eucalyptus works well with the blue-gray sofa and the cool-toned white walls.

Of course, the use of white can also make a space feel much more open and therefore bigger than it otherwise might.

The white kitchen should come as no surprise, but the option to close the kitchen off from the rest of the house is a bit unique in modern interiors, which tend to favor open plans.

In another area of the house, dark gray serves as the backdrop for white shelving, which can create almost an optical illusion of more depth and therefore more space.

This home work space, with its work chair and desk, is not much more than a cozy closet, but the use of color and design makes it feel much bigger.

In the bedroom as in the living room, natural light plays a huge part of the design, which is lucky for the potted Swiss cheese plant.

The dark gray element in the bedroom, as well as the home office, reflects an idea of cloudiness and quiet, making this room perfect for relaxation and sleep.

And if the soft gray walls fail to relax, a massively deep bathtub is sure to do the trick.

A subtle natural wood grain can be found on these walls for just a bit of texture.

Visualizer: KUOO Architects The second home is a house in Belgium that features many of the same colors (or lack thereof) but as a distinctly different minimalist feel, starting with a large modern sofa.

Indeed, despite the minimalist color palette, there is quite a bit going on in this main living area.

Nesting coffee tables, an enormous sofa, oversized light fixtures — all make big statements despite their gray and white coloring.

Even unique floor lamps that hinge out over the sofa have a bit of pop.

This home clearly demonstrates that the minimalist aesthetic does not have to avoid decoration altogether, as seen with the decorative vases nestled together on the coffee table.

Carefully chosen art is another common feature in minimalist homes and this is no exception.

In the open dining area, Scandinavian style chairs and fruit bowls each offer their own version of practicality.

The interesting thing about this dining design is that it looks wildly different depending on the lighting. With plenty of light, it appears almost to be a light gray.

However, as the sun goes down, black takes over.

As an example for black and white kitchens, this simple design does well.

Black cabinetry and white countertops is a sleek and modern contrast.

Even the cooktop blends in with its slick, black design.

As for cool staircases, it does not get much cooler than stairs that are illuminated from underneath.

Like in the previous home, this one also uses the bedroom as a chance to focus in on quiet grays.

With dark gray walls and lots of natural light, this bedroom is comfortable no matter what time of day.

Next to the bed, bedroom pendant lights add a very subtle decorative element.

But in the bathroom, white is once again the star.

A lifted white tub, white walls and a wood floor make this bathroom feel very modern and European.

And in the little girl’s room, we see modern options for kid’s decor.

A pretty pink grapefruit kids’ bed and cute, citrusy colors make for a bright and playful room.

For an older child, Star wars decor is the perfect choice. The moon over the bed is a creative way to indulge in space decor while still keeping the design somewhat minimalist.

Love the white theme? Do check out these posts: 32 White Bedrooms That Exude Calmness Gorgeous White Minimalist Spaces That Will Make You Forget All About Color

Minimalist Inspirations from Oporski Architektura

3 Homes that Play with the Contrast of Black and White

Three Luxury Homes in Cool, Neutral Tones

Luxury Home Design: 3 Inspirational Projects

4 Homes That Celebrate Modern Minimalism

3 Soothing Scandinavian Interiors

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jeremystrele · 7 years ago