#selasi the baker

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

I wonder where Selasi learned to bake bread.

Did he do an apprenticeship with another baker? Did he learn in Vesuvia? Inherit a family business?

Is the reason we never hear him talk about his own friends and family because he lost them all in the Plague?

What does he bake besides pumpkin bread???

[a-star-aquarium]

Guys I need more Selasi fics

[fox-daddy]

Kyle's 5W's and How

After thinking about this for a bit, I decided to use this to dive into Kyle a bit more and hopefully show why I love him. This is inspired by @sweetestlittledarling's post.

(Note; this takes place post-plague and pre-game. Think a few days before the game is set.)

Who is Kyle?

Kyle is a young magician's apprentice who's around two years younger than Asra.

He has bright blue eyes with small islands of green scattered throughout them. This is due to having segmented heterochromia in both eyes. (He has been told he has the world in his eyes.)

He has short, fluffy, bright red hair that's less curly than Asra's but just as fluffy.

Kyle has a skin tone closest to Muriel's, but if you look closely, you can see little specks of dark skin (freckles) but also pale, harder-to-see ones.

Standing at a whopping 4'4, he makes even Portia look tall. His small height is surprisingly not genetic but rather a magic phenomenon that happens in his birth country. Birds, lizards, bats, dragons, fish, and plants all have the chance to be a lot smaller than normal. This magic means that if Kyle had kids, he would be as safe as a normal-sized person having a baby in those times.

Having ADHD and ASD He has sensitivities to certain textures and flavors. Being sensitive to both spicy food and minty food, while absolutely loving Selasi's mint tea due to the baker making sure to make his cup mild mint instead of the normal rich flavor that causes Kyle to reflexively scrunch up his nose. Some textures he's sensitive to are silk; he loves the feeling of silk clothes, but one time when Asra swapped the bed cover with silk, it left Kyle sleeping downstairs until it was changed back. Don't worry, Asra was able to repurpose it into a bunch of different items and arts and crafts projects. Nothing was wasted.)

While I don't tend to do voice claims, I did it for Kyle and a few other characters and used this as the voice claim for Kyle, with the difference being that Kyle has a Kiwi accent. But this is close to what I imagine his tone, pitch, etc. to sound like.

What is Kyle?

I could give the generic answer of, well, Kyle is a human moving on. However, I want to dive into this a bit. What makes Kyle who he is?

I could see an answer of his free spirit. But what does that actually mean to Kyle as a person? Since it's not always exploring, it's the way he pauses to watch a leaf fall, to watch a bird hop around, the way he goes into new shops he's never been in just to look around.

But that isn't all of it.

He's kind. Another vague word. Which in this case is his ability to stand up for others even when it's scary. The way he sometimes brings a huge pot down to the beach to make a ton of soup for those who need it. The way he will go out of his way to help those he can.

Yet, even then, he'd argue those are more selfish than kind. He brings soup to hear stories, and because he's not feeling good, he helps people because it makes him feel good.

In reality, asking the 'what' is always going to be harder than the 'who.'

Why is Kyle Kyle?

This might be a stupid question on the surface, but why is Kyle the way he is?

Diving pre-plague, a lot of his formative years were spent around a tropical forest, large trees, large birds, humid air, and mild winters.

But the earliest thing to define him was in his original home being ignored by the elders. Being allowed to wonder while being small meant he was easy prey for large birds, and while he obviously survived all the attacks, it did leave him with scars on his shoulders.

Then there was the time he snuck onto a boat to join his dad on a trip and accidently caused his dad's death. (The boat crashing didn't kill him, but by the time Kyle got help, a flock of StormBird's had gotten him. Giant birds that fly around during heavy storms looking for food.)

Then in his new home, he was told who he should be by different people who had different wants for him.

Having his home burned down in front of him, he became a pirate for a few years as free passage towards Vesuvia, where he heard of someone who shared a last name.

Finally learning magic from his aunt.

A lot has shaped Kyle, and while it's been long forgotten by Kyle himself, he will always carry the scars of how it shaped who he is as a person.

When is Kyle, Kyle?

Kyle is mostly himself when he forgets about thinking; a few examples are;

When the shop is filled with people as Kyle bounces between customer service, helping people find items, and restocking shelves.

Birdwatching/animal watching. Even if it's watching Faust make her way from one side of the shop to the other.

Half asleep cuddles with Asra, where his brain is turned off and he's already halfway towards sleeping.

Speaking of half asleep, also early mornings when Kyle is just waking up.

So basically whenever he isn't overthinking himself or the world around him and can just enjoy being alive.

How is Kyle?

He's good.

He hides his insecurity about his height by playing into his childish clothing choice and baby face. Using any infantilization of him to the person's disadvantage as he analyzes everyone as thoroughly as Nadia does.

While he appears cheerful and sweet, the truth is he just likes being happy. He likes being able to openly smile to openly laugh and to try his hardest to look on the bright side. While he does have pessimistic thoughts, he buries them with kindness to himself and others. 'What if his friends secretly hate him?' 'Then it's on them for not telling him, and all he can do is try his best to be the best person he can be.' 'Nobody cares what he has to say?' 'He cares, and that's enough.'

While he isn't prone to depression, he needs support from people due to his ADHD and ASD. He won't remember to do certain things, and the shop and house will slowly clutter and fall apart around him. Which will cause him to suffer through depressive episodes as he loses control of his environment, leaving it inhabitable. Kyle is unable to fully take care of himself, and he knows this. This is why he has Bluebell and Hunter as friends who'll check in and help him when Asra's away on long trips.

He's braver than he thinks he is. Partly due to ASD and partly due to learning in a supportive environment, he doesn't fear people as much as he used to. Making him more and more willing to stand up to people who are otherwise scary. Muriel is nearly twice his height, and yet the only time in the game he's ever felt scared of Muriel was one time in Nadia's route, where Muriel suddenly stands between him and the bear carving, towering over him, and twice in Asra's route, once during a dream and once during their first? meeting. Even when scared, he's calm trusting himself and his ability to handle the situation. He's willing to face Muriel head-on, not because he thinks he could take Muriel in a fight but because he trusts himself and his magic to be able to get him away before a fight breaks out or before he gets hit. A shield spell to block the blow and retreating.

Despite being quite smart, he feels like an absolute idiot a lot. Yet he knows deep down this is just his own insecurities and works through this by writing things down to help with his sometimes horrible working memory and short-term memory.

He knows he's not perfect and has learned how to be okay with that and, over time, how to forgive himself more than he used to be able to do. And because of that, he's good.

[meret118]

This week she talks with two former contestants on the U.K. reality show The Great British Bake Off (known in the U.S. as The Great British Baking Show) who forged an intergenerational friendship during the competition. They discuss the shared love of motorcycles that brought them together, the games they played during downtime on set, and how they stay close with each other as well as all the other bakers from their season.

The Friends: Selasi Gbormittah, 33, a banker who lives in LondonVal Stones, 68, a (semi) retired teacher who lives in Somerset

[ponyasworkshop]

Okay another question

In the (as far as I'm aware) beginning stages of the Arcana, Selasi is called just "the baker".

The question is, since I'm doing a word for word rewrite, should I stick to this as his tag? Or should I give him the respect he deserves, as the one responsible for the iconic pumpkin bread and change them all to Selasi?

[arcanarubinaito]

Short Story Taglist

I’ve been meaning to compile a list of content tags I will commonly use, and their meanings. This both gives me a handy reference to use when I’m finalizing everything to post—because honestly I blank out on how to tag it once I get to that point, lol—and I figure I’d post it as both a reference for my own readers and a potential resource for other minific authors here on Tumblr.

This list will be updated as needed; and if you have any tag you think should be added, please comment your suggestions!

I will not be adding tags for certain taboo subjects, as that content will never be on my blog and I’m sure those who write it already know how to properly tag it.

I will not be adding ship tags because frankly there are too many to add.

Please note that this list contains Content Warning tags.

Spoiler Warnings

Asra’s Route

Nadia’s Route

Julian’s Route

Muriel’s Route

Portia’s Route

Lucio’s Route

Tales (Insert Specific Tale Here)

Upright Ending

Neutral Ending

Content Warning Tags

Graphic Depictions of Violence

Gore

Suicidal Tendencies

Self-Harm

Torture

Sexually Explicit Content

Substance Abuse

Depictions of Alcohol

Mild/Mentioned Alcohol Use

Depictions of Drug Use

Mild/Mentioned Drug Use

General Content Tags

Platonic Relationship(s)

Romantic Relationship(s)

Comfort

Hurt/Comfort

Anxiety/Comfort

Hurt/No Comfort

Angst

Whump

Cuddles

Fluff

Major Character Death

Minor Character Death

Slow Burn

Series

Miscellaneous Tags

SFW (<18)

NSFW (18+)

[x] Words

Ask Box

Request

Commission

Gift

Character Tags

Reader/OC Tags

GN Reader

AFAB Reader

AMAB Reader

Nonbinary Reader

Female Reader

Male Reader

Transfem Reader

Transmasc Reader

Self Insert

Apprentice OC

Original Character(s)

Main Six

Asra Alnazar

Nadia Satrinava

Julian/Ilya Devorak

Muriel of the Kokhuri

Portia/Pasha Devorak

Lucio/Montag Morgasson

Familiars/Animals

Faust

Chandra

Malak

Inanna

Pepi

Mercedes & Melchior

Camio

Chimes & Flamel

Jaeger

Courtiers

Consul Valerius

Praetor Vlastomil

Procurator Volta

Pontifex Vulgora

Quaestor Valdemar

Side Characters

Aisha Alnazar

Salim Alnazar

Tasya/Anastasia Devorak

Lishka Devorak

Mazelinka

Halinka (A Warm Welcome)

Khamgalai of the Kokhuri

Morga Eirsdottir

The Satrinavas

Nasrin Satrinava

Namar Satrinava

Nafizah Satrinava

Nazali Satrinava

Navra Satrinava

Nahara Satrinava

Nasmira Satrinava

Natiqa Satrinava

Gavin (The Bazar Job)

Minor Characters

Chamberlain (One of the Palace servants. Unclear if ‘Chamberlain’ is his name or his title.)

Ludovico (Palace Guard)

Bludmila (Palace Guard)

Selasi (The Baker)

Saguaro (An acquaintance of Asra’s, from Nopal)

Tilde the Leech Monger (A leech merchant near Mazelinka’s house.)

Barth/Bartholomew (Bartender of The Rowdy Raven)

Aedile Velos (Once slept in the Palace’s haunted guest room.)

Major Arcana

The Fool (0)

The Magician (I)

The High Priestess (II)

The Empress (III)

The Emperor (IV)

The Hierophant (V)

The Lovers (VI)

The Chariot (VII)

Strength (VIII)

The Hermit (IX)

Wheel of Fortune (X)

Justice (XI)

The Hanged Man (XII)

Death (XIII)

Temperance (XIV)

The Devil (XV)

The Tower (XVI)

The Star (XVII)

The Moon (XVIII)

The Sun (XIX)

Judgment (XX)

The World (XXI)

[fluffs-palace]

Im bored at work so give me all your mcs their favourite foods and colours.

x

Questions 5 & 6

Favorite Food and Favorite Color

Lyari

Selasi's pumpkin bread can be beaten out by no other in his eyes. Just like you can't out pizza the hut, you can't out pumpkin bread the baker.

Their favorite color changes every week. On one day itll be purple, the next itll be red.

Marsom

He loves a good borscht but only when he makes it. He's had others but they just dont quite add up. Plus there's always that satisfaction of making it yourself. Sourcing the ingredients, slaving over the stove, adjusting the spices, playing it by ear every time, etc.

His favorite color is a mix up between green and teal. He can't quite decide.

Osanna

None honestly. If she really had to pick then she'd supposed pasta would be the lesser of the evils. It goes down easy, yknow?

Pink is her absolute favorite. Has been since she was a little girl. Even with her memory loss, she chose it time and time again.

Samuel

He had already loved Mazelinka's soup when he'd first gotten his hands on it. She could be brash, sure, but it felt like it was made with love... but then Julian and Portia took him to Nevivon. He'll swear to the day he dies that Mazelinka's is the best, but he's been craving the soup they made there ever since that trip.

Purple! He loves how well it goes with his hair.

Seli

It might be a little basic, but she really likes salads. They're easy to take with her places. Versatile in taste. You can add basically anything. Portia makes some mean garden salads too from her harvests.

[TBD because she has been the hardest for me to figure out a color scheme for 🥲]

Tai

They can't get enough of a fresh vegetable or fruit. Anything that was grown with love and care. Their favorite favorites, though, are the root vegetables. So much earthy flavor! Oh, you want a specific answer? You can't possibly make them chose!

Call them boring or say its not a color, but they love white. Yeah, thats the color of the only clothes they've had, but it just goes with everything!

Vaura

Having to travel so much, they can't say they really have a favorite. Mostly its just field rations. If you were to ask them they'd say "Jerky?" and leave it at that.

Just like their love, gold is a must have. It's their favorite after all. Why skimp on it?

[obscurecharactershowdown]

I'm curious! Were there any characters that didn't make the cut that stood out to you?

Oh, tons! I had a number of characters who were almost included, but ultimately weren't, for various reasons. Mostly relating to bracket size. A few include Nisha (Princess Jellyfish), Peter Grant (Rivers of London), Shirou Ogami (Brand New Animal), Ritsu (Kemirukusa), Lava P. Grasshop (Spider Riders), Selphy (Rune Factory Frontier), V (Mystic Messenger), Cricket O'Dell (Archie comics), Pizzazz (Jem and the Holograms), and Access Time (Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne).

Sort of related, I forgot to include this character in my s/o post, but the submission for Selasi the baker from The Arcana was so funny, there was no propaganda and the link in the image section led to this

[graphitesatellite]

Uh, hi!

Could you do a request on how the M6 would react to Mc being in a carriage crash (car crash?)

So basically they were walking around town one day and while they're walking across the street to get to Selasi's bakery (I think that's the baker's name?) to get some pumpkin bread and they don't notice the carriage about to hit them so the Mc pushes them out of the way and gets hit instead and is badly injured.

Thank you in advance if you decide to write this

:)

I love how this request isn’t just asking “what if MC was in a carriage crash?”

It’s asking “what if MC was in a carriage crash right in front of their LI because in the heat of the moment they would rather let themselves get hurt than watch the love of their life suffer?”

That just has so much angst potential, it’s scrumptious

You just know there’s gonna be so many tears and questions of “why would you ever do that?” leading from the Hurt to the Comfort (because the comfort aspect is essential)

Thanks so much for sending this in <3

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

I've done so many snuggle prompts for the M6 already, SO

I'm going to do a platonic found family version instead, with a side character :3

Vesuvia Weekly: December 11th - 25th

You voted, so here it is!

Snuggle Weather

With that, the "Remind Me Why We Have Stairs" prompt is officially closed!

The tags are the usual #vesuvia weekly and for this specific prompt, #snuggle weather. The masterlist for all works submitted for this prompt will be under the poll for next week :D

MASTERLIST

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Cannot get over how Scout carries around a blanket and picnic items and uses them in route during stressful quests because yes, self care and breaks are important

We've never seen the two meet but I like to think that once Scout meets Selasi the two form an unbreakable bond over bread breaks and a love for observing the tea from a healthy distance

[empanator]

I know there’s no official art or sprites in The Arcana for Selasi the baker, but keep in mind that he was confirmed to be based on Selasi Gbormittah (known by many as a former Great British Bake-Off competitor).

Which means he’s probably supposed to resemble this:

[wiltingdecay]

rowan accidentally called selasi "dad" once and asra has never let them forget about it

[aaliyah-draws]

The Arcana Shenanigans

Here’s some drawing I drew yesterday to vent out some stuff. These really cheered me up lol ~ 😂💕

[vampiresuns]

Interlude 1: Do Not Stand Over My Grave And Weep, Part 2

⟡ PART 2: FRIENDS ARE THE FAMILY YOU CHOOSE ⟡

2.2k words. In which Anatole’s friends start uncovering the mystery of his death and sudden reappearance. 

CW: Death and discussions of it.

What to catch up with Anatole’s Apprentice series? You can do that here.

He had met him at University. He had been his friend since he was 18 years old. Anatole and Medea had been Leonore’s first lasting friends, the first people who outside of his family, had taught him permanence was not entrapment. They had filled his life with growth and laughter; he had suffered their woes, he had celebrated their triumphs, he had followed them into Vesuvia despite his original wish to travel the world. 

He still travelled, but he always came back to them. Medea and Anatole weren’t just friends: they were family now. When Leonore closed his eyes he could see them holding hands and jumping into the water one summer evening in Prakra. He could see Medea using his thigh as a pillow under a tree. He could see Anatole dancing. He could see Medea and Anatole dressed to the nines for their new Court jobs. 

He would know them anywhere. He would know them by the way their steps sounded alone.

It took Leonore some moments to remember where he was, Octavia gently nudging him. Sabine, who he didn’t realise had gone, announced themselves again, saying they had lost Anatole’s doppelgänger in the crowd. 

Only it hadn’t been a doppelgänger. Leonore knew his best friend, he knew Anatole when he saw him. 

“No,” he said at last. “No, that’s him. That’s him, Octavia. That was him, and I need to find him.” 

“Leonore, wait! Anatole’s dead.” 

They began bickering about it, Octavia trying to stop Leonore from head diving into a wild goose chase, not realising Selasi, the Baker, was listening to them. 

“Excuse me, forgive me for overhearing, but are you talking about Anatole Radošević? The magician from Moonstone and Jasmine?” 

“Yes! His aunt owned that shop,” Leonore said, jumping to talk to Selasi, who inspected him with a careful eye. 

“I don’t know what prank you’re playing, but he’s alive as can be. I opened a little after the plague subsided and he and Asra have been getting bread from me for three years, almost. They’re attached at the hip, so if you know Asra—“ 

Leonore leaped to shake his hand. “I do know, Asra! Thank you, thank you so much.” 

Selasi tried to tell him Asra wasn’t around, that he was on a journey, but that he could tell him where to find Anatole if he promised he was a friend, but Leonore sprinted towards the shop without letting him finish. Sabine set off to follow Leonore as Octavia called to both of them, which left her standing alone with Selasi. She made some apologies, and Selasi told her not to worry. 

“Where did you say you knew him?”

“Leonore went to University with him,” she said, thinking the least she could do was to assure the man they were Anatole’s friends, not some random people with weird motivations. “I know him through his cousin.”

The baker hummed. “I didn’t know Anatole had any family besides his late Aunt and Asra.”

Something about the way he said it, the casual certainty of it, gave Octavia a chill. She thanked him, and tried to catch up with Sabine and Leonore, not wanting to say anything Selasi might not know. She risked him stopping them, or worse, telling Anatole, which she didn’t think would be a good idea. Octavia just had a bad feeling about it: she didn’t expect people to just know who Anatole was, or had been, that could be conceited. Anatole himself hated being anticipated by his job, wanting to have the opportunity to present himself and do the best he could do. 

Yet from there to the sureness Selasi had had when he said he didn’t know Anatole had any family besides Paris and Asra? It was weird. The Radošević-Cassano weren’t meant to be separated; if Octavia knew anything about them from Milenko, it was that they were very close knit. The only people in their families that Octavia could think of as not being regarded ever, were Matilda and Krešmir, Vlad’s and Valerius’ late parents, who hadn’t even raised the siblings. All she knew about them was that they were neglectful and Matilda had the idle ennui of someone who was too used to having everything, and was used to using cruelty for fun. 

Milenko had only talked about them a couple of times, and she had never heard the Consul even mention them, let alone Vlad, Anatole’s father. One way or another, the Cassano didn’t detach themselves from their family, nor did the Radošević, and Anatole had only ever been extremely proud of the people who had raised him. That had been their way since the days of Cassano Arianamenzi, the first of them, and she could testify that legacy had not washed away with time. If anything, it had become stronger. So why would Anatole not speak of it?

Unless he didn’t remember them. She had read about such a thing once, doing research for one of her most early plays. A shiver went down her back, making her hug her arms around herself and walk faster.

When Octavia reached the Moonstone Leonore and Sabine were talking to a tall man who seemed to guard the shop. None of them had seen him before, but he seemed to know them; he called them ‘people from before’. 

“You used to give Anatole clementines, which he doesn’t like—” he said. He was tall, covered in a cloak, and had moss green eyes, though they were barely visible.

“He says they taste fake,” Leonore completed.

“So he gave them to me, before— it doesn’t matter. You won’t find him here.”

The only thing stranger than the stranger was that none of them could remember him as they tried to piece their afternoon together. However, Octavia had heard Selasi say Anatole was occupied in the Palace, and perhaps they could try their luck there. 

“Then let’s go,” Leonore said, already standing up. “Maybe Medea knows something we don’t.”

Medea Pryce was the daughter of two archaeologists and the granddaughter of another one. Both her father’s and her mother’s family had settled in Vesuvia some generations ago because its cultural diversity and rich history was good for the archaeological craft. Anatole wasn’t the first Radošević-Cassano she had met — her Grandmother was acquainted with Bastiste Cassano, one of the Cassano elders, and thus with Consul Valerius, whom Batiste called her spoiled grandnephew. Medea’s parents, on the other hand, were acquainted with Atanasie Radošević and Aurora Tesfaye, uncle and mother of Anatole’s cousin Milenko. 

So when she met him at University, which she had begun in Prakra, just as he had done, the surname called to her immediately. Discovering they would course the exact same program, even if they had different aspirations and goals, another pleasant surprise. It would be nice to have someone to know, as Medea liked making friends.

What a friend she had made of him and Leonore, who shared housing with them. Anatole was one of those people who had the energy of a handsome stranger one shared enlightening conversation with, yet then never saw again. Debonair and hopeful, he was passionate and inspiring, a devoted friend and nothing if not extraordinary. He had his shortcomings, like everyone, but that wasn’t the way one measured their friends. 

Seasons came and time passed. They both studied and apprenticed in Balkovia for six months, and then they moved on into Vesuvia, Leonore following them, to their surprise. They laughed and hurt, they fell in love with their own people, they held each other, and Medea and Anatole drafted their plans for the future. It would be a great future, they were sure of it. Anatole’s self-introductory speech for the Vesuvian Court was a gem, Medea believed it so. They liked to fantasise about one day becoming Consul and Head of Staff, with all the things they thought they could help with, working together for the people of their City. 

No matter the crashes and reality checks, the hardships or how many times Medea had seen Anatole stand up to the Count and the new Courtiers, they held hands through it and continued onwards: The World and it’s calling of completion met its perfect match in Anatole’s Ace of Swords coloured Strength.

Then the Plague came and Anatole died, and Medea was left with all their plans, and no one to implement them with. 

After his death, things only got worse. She could tell something was going on with the Consul, but she wasn’t close enough to him to know what. She was somewhat closer to Councilwoman Cassiopeia, but she didn’t seem to know what was going on with her cousin either. The Courtiers hadn’t done anything of value for the City in three years, and all that Valerius ever seemed to do was to keep it afloat. The Court was destroyed, and with the Countess as lost as they all were, Medea didn’t know where they would end.

When she heard the Countess had found a new advisor she was thrilled. Fresh air was what the Court needed, and by the first weeks of this advisor around the Countess, it was clear they were doing her good, even if she had heard the advisor had had a rocky introduction with the Court. It seemed like it, because she knew from first hand experience that the Consul had come in furious to his office, refusing to speak to anyone, except to Cassiopeia, whom Medea was sure forced him to speak rather than him wilfully giving her any information.

He had only said something about something in poor taste, and how had he let the Countess know he would not tolerate it, but he didn’t say anything else. 

Her turn to meet the advisor came the next morning. It happened by accident, when she was delivering some documents to the Council of Vesuvia. Meet was a lax word for it, ‘seeing’ him, was much more appropiate: with his light golden blond hair, and bespoke clothes. The same unmistakable black eyes and the scar across the bridge of his nose. The same stride, the same height, the same face, the same looks. 

Her friend, her own dearest Aelius Anatole had walked into the Consul’s office seeking for an explanation about the way he had been received in Court. From there on, the morning was mayhem, absolute mayhem, and only now that Medea was sitting alone she could finally process it. 

“Anatole” had introduced himself fully, his name the right name, but the Consul wouldn’t hear it, immediately throwing himself at the throat of the “second-rate witch” for daring to use that name. Anatole continued to insist that was his name. The more the argument extended, it was clear to everyone involved that that was Anatole, even to the headstrong Consul — his panicked eyes gave him away.

Medea knew her friend, her friend had always had a presence, even if he wasn’t always aware of it. He still had it, he still stood in the same way the Consul did, he still turned his eyebrows in the same way, and the way he spoke. 

What he spoke of, too. 

The breaking point came when the Consul grabbed him from the shoulders, demanding to know what he wanted from him. Then, Medea saw him do something he hadn’t done in years: she heard the Consul speak Balkovian in public. Medea’s grasp with the language was enough to know he asked two things, two crucial things, that anyone who wasn’t Anatole couldn’t answer. 

Anatole answered the first one, something about a sword’s name, in his perfectly native Balkovian, looking pale and sickly-greenish. Cassiopeia tried to interject, but the Consul wouldn’t listen to anyone. Then the Consul asked his second question, something about ‘what was the tree’, or ‘what was the name of the tree’, and nothing else. Medea wasn’t sure. 

Anatole replied both of the questions: His first reply being ‘grapevine’, followed by a choked up ‘cult of Dionysus’; the second reply was ‘a beech tree’, looking like he was about to vomit after the words left his mouth. 

“Valeriy?” He said, as the Consul looked at him in horror, still holding him by the shoulders. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

Anatole did pass out, and the Consul, blushing cherry red as he realised the whole scene had been in front of half the Court office at his care, yelled at them to know what the hell were they doing, if not call for someone to take this boy to a bed. After it, the Consul stormed off, Cassiopeia power-walking behind him as she demanded an explanation from her cousin, an explanation the Consul refused to give, waving dismissively at her.

“Don’t you wave like that at me, Valeriy, unlike you, I know my own damn nephew when I see him.”

“Don’t call me that here.”

“Valeriy Radošević, I will call you however I damn please! Come back here!”

Medea didn’t stay to watch the rest. The Court was in unrest, it was so much that it had stirred the four other weirdos into watching and making the oddest commentary for anyone to hear. Medea didn’t need an in with them to know they knew something they all didn’t, and simply thought of the Court Staff too inconsequential for them to spare them half a thought.  

As if possessed by a thunderbolt, Medea stood up from where she was sitting as she ruminated. She needed answers, and she needed to talk about this to someone. She had an idea: if anyone she was close enough knew a considerable amount of death and ghosts, it was Amparo Cassano, but first she needed to talk to Leonore. They had supported each other in these 4 years Anatole had been dead, or presumed as much. Anything she did, it would be with Leonore. 

As she turned around after grabbing her coat, Leonore was calling her name. 

“Sabine is waiting for us at our place, they wanted to ask some questions first so I ran here. Octavia is trying to find Amparo, or anyone really. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Good,” she said, as she grabbed his arm and began walking out of the Palace, “so do I, but not here. The Courtiers are around, and they cannot be trusted.”

[strawberrydemonart]

I forgot to post this. I loved the little courtier shakers and wanted to make a wholesome version featuring my favorite Bread Daddy, Selasi! Sadly, he dosent have his own routes,tales or sprites but should.

🥐 Freshly baked loaf of pumpkin bread

🥐 Home grown pumpkin

🥐 Pouncy cat assistant

🥐 A second loaf of pumpkin bread ( you can’t just have 1)

🥐 Some gold coins ( it’s all about that dough)

🥐 A big ol sack of flour made from the finest ingredients!