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the-ethereal-serpent · 5 years ago

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🧚🏻‍♀️Protection From The Fae🧚🏻‍♀️

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Iron

Iron in any form or shape has always been considered the very best protection against fae – in almost all legends, the metal is like kryptonite to Superman. If you kept an iron nail in your pocket, you couldn’t be carried away by them. Sometimes iron nails were sewn into the hems of children’s clothing for that reason. A pair of iron shears hung on the wall near a baby’s bed was said to prevent the child from being swapped for an ugly fae baby.

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Steel

Steel is also effective against the faeries because it is created from processed iron. If a faery is cut by a steel or iron blade, the wound will not heal or will take a very long time. In some stories, the Fae is slowly poisoned by such a wound. Steel or iron weapons are among the few things that can actually kill a Fae being.

However, unless it was plainly self-defense (and sometimes even that wouldn’t help your case), you could expect the rest of the faeries to exact a terrible retribution!

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Horseshoes

You can put one above the main entrance of your house and it will help protect the entire home. For added protection, put iron near any opening a person could go through. If you have large windows, you may want to place some nails near it to make a barrier. You can do the same with your dog’s house to keep the fairies out.

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Bells & Chimes

Bells were also said to have frightened off evil faeries in Medieval Ireland and elsewhere in Europe. Specifically the big, deep-sounding Church bells that would ring to draw the people to Church. So this theory can be applied to your home by hanging deep-toned chimes on your front or back porch or by using deep sounding bells during magickal ritual.

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Food

Traditionally, bread and salt provided protection from the Fae. Carrying yeast-risen bread with you had a two-fold effect. It would repel some faeries. Other faeries would accept it as an offering and leave you alone.

My gramma taught me a Welsh tradition of leaving a saucer of milk and a slice of bread or some bread crusts on the back porch as an offering to the faeries, so they wouldn’t play pranks on the family or trouble the livestock. Sometimes, if you were seeking the faeries’ aid, you might add berries, honey, or cheese.

Even humble oatmeal was believed to be a fairy repellent. You could carry a handful of dry oatmeal in your pocket or sprinkle it on your clothes. As long as you didn’t mind looking flaky, you’d be safe.

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Salt

Salt’s association with purity made it an excellent tool against otherworldly beings. Spreading salt across the threshold and along the windowsills has long been the primary method of keeping faeries, demons, and spirits out of houses. If you had to carry food to the farmhands in the fields, sprinkling it with salt was said to keep the faeries from taking it – or from extracting the nourishment from it unseen!

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Offerings

Leave a pail of fresh milk, butter, or cream outside of your front door on the eight holy days to appease the fae and keep them from wreaking havoc on garden and home. Leaving faery offerings and libations dates back hundreds of years, and if you have any Celtic ancestors, you probably have ancestors who partook in this tradition. Some people in Europe still do! This is a preventative method of protection from trickster and evil fairies. Make them happy at the back door so they don’t intrude.

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Plants

Historically, garlands were often made of marsh marigolds and hung over the barn doors to protect the horses from being ridden to exhaustion by faeries in the night. Flowers, especially primroses, were spread over windowsills and hung above the door-posts of the house for safety. Your best bet, however, was a plant called St. John’s Wort. Wearing it was said to provide strong protection from fairy magic and mischief.

Fairies could vanish at will and remain invisible to mortal eyes for as long as they pleased. Carrying a four-leafed clover would allow you to see the faeries – but only once. A Celtic tradition was to sew several of the clovers into a tiny bag to be worn around the neck. You could then discern the faeries once for each clover in the bag. In some legends, the clover was said to allow you to see through fairy glamors and magical disguises.

Red berries were believed to keep fae at bay, especially if they were from rowan trees, mountain ash or holly. So did red verbena (a flower). Daisies were often tucked into children’s pockets or woven into fanciful chains to wear around their necks to prevent them from being taken away by the fae. And if you were walking through the woods, it was best to carry a walking stick or staff made of ash or rowan wood.

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Protection Charm

At this season, the Winter Court is in rule and you will want to look out for malicious, harmful beings in your interactions with the fae. You can make yourself a protection charm using:

St. John’s Wort

Sea Salt

Lemon Zest

Rosemary

Eggshells

An Iron Nail

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Ancestral & Deity Protection

One of the MOST effective forms of protection against evil faeries (and other spirits in general) is to invite your ancestors and gods into your home. Once your guides and guardians take up residence in your home, they do most of the work of keeping out negative forces like evil fairies and the like. In fact, my ancestors are SO good at protection, I have to ask their permission to allow any other spirits inside the home!

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Faery Box

Decorate a small box by painting it and gluing on glitter or plastic gems. Inside place leaves, pinecones, crystals, and plants. Add a piece of felt or fleece in the centre as a soft bed you can add essential oil to. Draw a sigil on it that will protect you from harmful fae. At night, light a fake candle by the box, and leave out some food.

Make sure to protect yourself from negative influence. Then invite those of good intention to see the place you’ve prepared for them to rest in, and stay with you through the night if they wish to. Leave the candle on, as long as it’s a fake one, and then go to bed.

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The Circle Of Light

Another effective yet simple technique of faery protection consists of using one’s mind and energy. If you are used to using visualization in your meditations, rituals, and spells, this method of fae protection should be familiar to you. It’s what I like to call the Circle of Light.

You can do this visualization exercise any time of the day, any day of the week and as often as you’d like. For me particularly, I do it every night as I’m lying in bed and before I go to sleep to continue to build the circle’s strength around my home

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Running Water

Fae folk are unable to cross streams and rivers, so in any pursuit leaping from bank to bank will be a sure escape for the hunted human. Water courses running south are said to be especially efficacious.

Oddly, nevertheless, fae seem to have no objection to still water. They actively seek it out for washing themselves and they are from time to time associated with wells. For example John Rhys in Celtic folklore (1901, p.147 & chapter 6) notes the existence of several ‘faery wells’ in Wales which demanded attention from local people, in the absence of which they would overflow or flood.

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Hag Stones

According to John Aubrey, if a person could locate stones through which natural erosion had created a hole, they could protect their horses from night-riding by fae by hanging the stones over each horse’s manger in the stables- or by tying the stone to the stable key. The fairies would not then be able to pass underneath.

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Sources : http://aminoapps.com/p/4sn2it

#Fae #Faeries #Faery #Fairy #Fairies #The fae #Fae folk #Mythical #Mythical creatures #Wicca #Wiccan #Pagan #Paganism #Spirituality #Witch #Witchcraft #Witchy #Witchblr

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astrologically-sinful · 5 years ago

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Zodiac : A Story of the End

Aries: The battlegrounds were once the glory of your kind, rumors of what you really were haunted the alleys where the hidden crimes occurred. Whispers of who you were rose, and fell. The skeletons of your secrets dragging you down and demanding to be released. The sepulchre of fallen dreams, and the garden of trapped angels became your home, and your tomb as well.

Taurus: The golden ichor that once ran through your veins, now dried, along with the veins of the world you protected. Blooming foliage left behind as the victim of the scorching, with you as the first one caught. Endless cries echo through your tomb, and reverberate through the cathedral of your mountains, and die off in the streams of your skin.

Cancer : Once open eyes have encountered the endless constellations, that will cease as one another will. Their glimmering tears remembered with vibrant ardor, and promised smiles. Floating among the galaxies that you created, you witness their end, just as you witnessed their beginning. Being the guardian of their restless souls while they wait to begin anew.

Gemini: After a while, you just decided that it seemed to keep on pulling you towards it. The tide, the everlasting sleep, you couldn’t seem to let go. The unending whispers, that then turned to screaming, and finally went silent altogether. Then one day the voices, they sung to you from the depths, and yet you stay in your eternal torment hoping to one day see the ferry back home.

Leo: Stardust, they called you, the bright ones, redeemers of those who have sunken into the shadows. Not once did you understand those simple words, and yet your are reminded of them once you sit on you once-gold, now-brass throne, made up of the fallen souls and anchored hopes. Your once radiant vision, now dusty and tormented, grief-stricken where there was once hope.

Virgo: The shrieking chasm that calls to everyone is commanded by you, once the guiding conscience; now the demanding fury. The storm that was seen from the fortune, haunting you every step, now haunting your waking reality. The never-ending nightmare that you once fell in, now spit you out; rejecting your very being. Iron horns thrust into the kingdom that has shed your blood, you seek the retribution for your fallen self.

Libra: The ebbing flow of the sands, which has encountered all your lifetimes stays silent and waits for the one you are now approaching. Flecks of gold paint your eyes and draws them to the endless suns that you have seen, and the ones that you have put to sleep. The bed that you once built to nurture them, now broken, torn, and burned. Weighed down by the armies led by your respite.

Scorpio: Soothing whispers that contain a glimmer of promise, where your heavy lids and feet do not exist, and are freed by the dreams you once had. Now left in the dust, and remembered only when the slight wind blows it away. Fallen stars illuminating them for only a moment, and lighting up your sleeping image for the lifetime that you had. The crimson flowers that once adorned your lovely whispers now only torture those who recall.

Sagittarius: The dancing sparks that you once were, fire on the feet of those that worshipped you, has now faded into the song of the forgotten gods. Dusty scrolls that were once shared among others, now forgotten in the debris of the tower, where your story began. The bard with the fire-tongue, the spinner of life, and the story-teller of remembrance you once were. Now a scorched page in your book, merely a fable; a folk-tale.

Capricorn: The dragging feeling of the pull, the songs of a fallen empire that you once called a friend. Reminding you of the exact things you have lost, the once spoken languages echoing in a tongue that is not your own, greetings kissing the edge of your senses. Customs that you once welcomed, now welcoming a bitter reminder of who you once were, a harsh knife in your now glacial memories.

Aquarius: The warm breeze of the coast that once tickled your senses, only encounters the dulled, listless gaze of the sand. Worn away, and disappearing; making only the occasional valiant effort to escape. Your weary hands, now claws encounter the unyielding stone, and attempt to drag your form from the waves. Hair once woven into plaits full of wisdom, now wary snakes that strike at the hint of a threat.

Pisces: The endless dripping of color, that once made your wings strong now trap you in your own cage. Torn, and ragged; now a mockery of their vibrance and majesty. Your empire, once full of life, now only have memories of dust. Your visage, gilded and eternal, now stands silent. The statue left in remembrance, now made of stone.

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botwstoriesandsuch · 5 years ago

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Where Time Takes Us

Destination - Part 2

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The public opinion of the Royal Family had dwindled compared to previous years, though that wasn’t to say everyone was against them. In fact, the establishment of divine right and intervention was very much intact in the years prior, and most folk were supportive of the projects and developments that would supposedly protect the kingdom. However, there was a stemming internal conflict between the “solemn” princess and her would-be associates and advisors. Understand, for this time period, that faith towards leaders and figureheads was a combination of their apparent strength and confidence in their duty and labour, coupled with a bit of humanity and relatability. From first hand diary documents, we can already piece together that first half of that story. As for the latter, well...

They say the Princess hadn’t even once visited the Queen’s grave.

I think that’s when they started to lose hope.

— Excerpt from Clocks and Passages, Gerudo historian, Kemisie Patel, 14 years Pre-Awakening

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Her mother used to do her hair, before special ceremonies like these.

Her father, well, he would always remind her of the importance of appearances, for royalty should always look dignified and strong. Even before she could walk, he would commission thousands of dresses. Tailors would customize the cloth to her every measure, with stitches etched with gold that only a king like him could afford. Then, when it was done, he would kiss her forehead and tell her she looked stunning. Stunning. The same word for every occasion. A stunning white dress. A stunning pair of boots. A stunning blue coat. For a party. A meeting. A ball. Every time, it was stunning, stunning, stunning.

Yet her mother, she would always choose her words carefully. She would take her hand and sit her down on the bed. No matter what her dress or coat, or whatever pre-prepared style she was already in, her mother would smooth out the cloth on her back, and part the hair behind her neck. She would brush and brush and brush, then braid and braid and braid. The queen would talk of simple fairy tales, or of intriguing conversations she had that day, or of interesting new facts, or of new embarrassing anecdotes that would never cease to make her daughter laugh. The princess’ hair would transform from an elaborate mess of self-inflicted ribbons and tangles to a simple, yet elegant, crown braid.

Then her mother would ask, “Do you like it?” and every time she would say yes. Of course she liked it, because her dear mother had done it, and no one else could do it better. No bun, or tie, or ribbon, or crown would compare to the touch of her mother’s fingers, weaving together her golden hair. The two of them would get up and look in the mirror. The princess’ outfit might change, but she was never surprised by her hair. Her mother would squeeze her shoulders, and rest her chin upon her head, her only concerning being the smile on her daughter’s face. Her mother would sing more words. Lovely, charming, enchanting, beguiling. Perhaps beautiful, magnificent, exquisite, or cute.

She wasn’t talking about the dress or the hair. Her words were meant for her daughter alone.

The queen would take her daughter’s hand and they would walk towards the door. Before the princess could take a step outside the room, her mother would squeeze her hand. Her sentence would start the same. “My little bird,” she would begin, her voice as sweet as honey. The queen would hold her daughter’s hand, and whisper to her little bird. Perhaps a joke to calm the nerves, or one last assurance before a ceremony. Sometimes the words were simple, and sometimes they were complex. Nonetheless, the princess would listen to her voice and smile, before finally stepping out the door.

Her mother, she would do her hair, and sing, and speak, and whisper one last thing to her little bird, before watching the princess leave. Her mother, the Queen of Hyrule, would always speak of little things.

And then she died.

And Zelda had long forgotten all the words.

The princess stood in front of the mirror, watching the woman tend to her dress. Zelda didn’t bother to look at her reflection, it would be the same as any other time. A royal blue dress, atop a snow white blouse, and all lined with gold trim, so as to match her own golden hair. She had gotten over the initial beauty of the dress a long time ago.

So instead, she looked out the window. The day had risen, its light passing through glass panes, dousing the princess’ room with its warm, yellow light. The outline of the window’s frame and design cast shadows onto the floor, capturing Zelda’s shadow in a web of thin lines.

Outside, the view was as it was yesterday: the aged grey walls of the castle exterior, pressed against a beautiful horizon of grassy fields and weathered silver peaks. From where she stood, the window was less of a view, and more of a small painting, a tiny portal of the world affixed to a sorry stack of stone bricks. With the way the sunlight hit the glass pane, the shapes of Hyrule faded into simple colors, blurred by the walls of the bedroom and her own reflection staring back at her.

There was the Princess of Hyrule, right where she belonged.

Her emerald eyes gazed back at her. They were tired.

Suddenly, the woman finished working on something at the hem of Zelda’s dress. She stood and patted her shoulder with a smile.

“All done, Your Highness. You look stunning!”

Zelda turned to look at her through the mirror. She put on a smile and said, “Thank you, Evelyn.” The princess stepped away, walking around the room.

The woman gave a little curtsy. “Can I do anything else for you while I’m here, miss?”

Zelda started to sit on her bed, resting her legs after an hour or so of standing. She shook her head.

“It’s alright, thank you. You may go.” She gave one last soft smile, for assurances. The tailor, Evelyn, gave a curtsey, and started to pack up her sewing kit, humming to herself.

Zelda turned to the nightstand beside her bed. It was a clutter of papers, notes, and ink, although it was nothing compared to her desk on the other end of the room. Brushing them into a neat pile, the princess opened the drawer under it.

It held two things. One was a soft, velvet pillow, holding a golden diadem, woven like vines. The detailed indentations in the metal were crafted with care and precision, and the perfectly symmetrical gold bands wove towards the front, where it cradled three ruby gemstones. The diadem was meant to be an elegant headpiece, displaying the grace and power of the Hyrulean Family.

The second thing in the drawer was a stuffed horse.

Mr. Roberts was flopped on his side, his crudely made glasses askew on his snout. The horse was fluffy, a solid tan brown, with white socks and a pink nose. The yarn that made his flowing, blond mane was splayed out against the plain oak wood of the drawer.

Zelda propped him up, fixing his glasses, before patting him on his head. Mr. Roberts, afterall, was a respected keeper of the quills, who was paid with nightly cuddles. He had been in his position for nearly 16 years, a life-time partner with the princess herself. This was why he had the honor of being kept by the nightstand whenever visitors came, instead of shoved hurriedly under the bed, like all her other stuffed animals.

Her smile came and went like a breeze. Zelda sighed. She patted Mr. Roberts once more, then pushed him a bit further to the back of the drawer. The princess then took out the diadem, placing it snuggly on her head to push back her golden locks.

No braids today, as was father’s request.

At the thought of this, Zelda got to her feet.

He only said 20 minutes, right?

Let’s see… the guardian is just in the courtyard downstairs. Later, I could probably use the Champions as an excuse… they’ve been here a few hours, maybe? The ceremony is just a bit past noon… and if I use the stairs unconventionally...

Zelda’s eyes lit up for the first time all morning. Still standing by her bed, she cleared her throat and spoke swifty.

“Actually, Evelyn? Sorry, but there is one more thing.” As she spoke, she started to walk across the room towards her desk, about to begin a daring search amongst the avalanche of papers, books, fancy pens, and quills.

The woman had just about finished up packing her needles, fabric, and other tools into her small kit. She held it in one hand as she tilted her head curiously at the princess.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“If you see my father, or anyone else due to the Champion Ceremony, just pass along a reminder that I’m not coming to the rehearsal beforehand.”

“Of course.” Evelyn observed the princess continue to hopelessly tumble through the mess of papers and books on her desk. “A busy day for you, miss?”

“Of sorts...”

Finally, she found it. Feeling the familiar brush of old leather at her fingertips, Zelda pulled out one of her journals from the wreckage of notes and ink. She really needed to find a better way to organize these things. Flipping through the pages, she found that this was indeed research journal number 27, with half of the pages still blank and ripe for the writing.

She turned to the tailor once more, clutching the journal to her chest. “If my father asks anymore questions about my whereabouts, just tell him I was delivering the Champion’s gifts myself. Otherwise, you can be sure I’ll still be at the sanctum at least 20 minutes early, just as he asked!”

The tailor hesitantly started the motion of a nod in agreement, but the princess didn’t stick around to see it finish. Zelda gave Evelyn an honest smile, before rushing out the door. The woman was left there, scratching the back of her head in concern.

Pushing open the double doors, the princess started to run through the hallway. Well, it was more of a half run, half walk. A jog if you will. It was difficult enough to walk around in heels, much less sprint across the carpet floor.

Curses, I should have brought a change of boots.

Zelda continued her journey through the corridors, hastily passing by the guards who wore slightly confused expressions under their thick helms.

Even though Zelda had left her room in a rush, as soon as she saw the drifting shadows of other Hylians at the end of the hallway, she slowed her pace. Guards were one thing, but other influential people, who might not know how to hold their tongue, was another. Turning the corner, she allowed the voice of her father and other nobility from her life to amplify.

Keep your head high. Don’t slouch. Look straight ahead. Don’t adjust your hair. Don’t attend to an itch. Don’t run. Hands folded, not crossed. Stride and be dignified. Look straight ahead. Look straight ahead.

She looked at their faces, walking through the hallway, she couldn’t help but notice the sudden quieting volume as people turned to look at her. Zelda didn’t know exactly who they were. Sons, daughters, brothers, or mothers of some nobles serving her father? It didn’t matter, she could already feel the pit in her stomach telling her that they saw right through her.

This specific corridor was basked in light, with open archways allowing the sunlight to drip through, and cast soft shadows onto the opposing wall. It was a small group of people, their clothing varying from large, simple gowns to sleek, suave coats. From the looks of it, they were just chatting amongst themselves as they enjoyed the morning breeze.

At least, they had been chatting, but now those conversations were reduced to faint whispers amongst a fragile silence.

Look straight ahead. Focus. Look straight ahead. Focus. Just...move forward.

Zelda began to walk calmly through the corridor, the noblemen and women giving curt bows and curtseys before turning back to their companions. Some continued to stare at her with blank, neutral faces, their expressions giving no indication of their emotions or opinions, which only fed Zelda’s growing anxiety.

Look straight ahead. Pay no mind. Look ahead.

The princess continued to walk. Her destination was so close, but the muttering and whispers seemed to tangle and trip her thoughts, making the journey towards the end of the hall seem like an eternity. It was as if the moment Zelda passed by them, these people took it as their cue to continue their not-so-silent conversations.

“...yeah, that’s the…...too young for…...but sixteen is a long time…”

“...spends all day with those…...His Majesty doesn’t like that…...no powers….”

“...can’t even do…..her duty…..a shame...”

Zelda took a deep breath, trying to drown out the whispers. Look ahead. Focus. Look ahead. Focus.

She snuck a quick glance at a man with curly brown hair, he seemed to tower above her when she passed him by. He cocked an eyebrow, before turning back to his partner.

Ahead. Focus. Ahead. Posture. Dignified. Strong...

“...expects us to…...and respect…...what throne will she even…”

“...inherits…...downfall…...nothing…”

“..…..she doesn’t even….so spoiled…”

“...running away…...even from simple things…”

They were just words. Simple words. Little words. Forget it forget it forget it.

Zelda finally reached the end and turned the corner, practically sprinting towards the staircase once she was alone. She didn’t even care if they could hear her echoing footsteps, she just didn’t want to be close enough to hear any laughter.

The princess pushed open a wooden door, leading her to the stairwell. Hearing it close behind her, Zelda finally allowed herself to breathe. Her shaky breaths slowly returning to normal with each passing moment.

Alone at the top of a stairwell, the princess’ short breaths echoed, and over time, they finally melded into a final, deep sigh.

“And…” Zelda clasped her hands together taking in the room, “...we’re good.”

Regaining her composure, Zelda looked down through the spiral staircase. The carefully chiseled stone walls housed intricate designs, but the railing of the stairwell was thick and smooth.

It was perfect for… “being punctual.”

An unconscious smile made its way onto Zelda’s lips, as she propped herself up onto the railing. Then, clutching the excess of her dress in her fist, the princess allowed her momentum to fall to the side, as she slid down the spiral staircase.

The faintest sound of a laugh escaped her, even though she tried to hold her tongue. The last time she did this, a guard had heard her and berated the princess for doing something so reckless. Her father would later agree, bringing up the fact that doing such an act had caused dust and grime to accumulate on the “not so pleasant area” of her dress.

Holy Hylia, just say “butt,” Father.

Yet by that point, she had become too addicted to the childlike amusement and wonder that filled her. So here she was, a few years later after that incident, doing one of the few disobedient things in her life. It was thrilling in some sense, yet on the other hand… a bit pathetic. However in those precious, precious few moments, the princess didn’t really care.

A couple dozen steps later, Zelda’s feet landed in front of the door of paradise. It was her paradise, anyhow. The wooden door had a glass pane window, housing three golden triangles that cast splashes of color onto the stone floor as the sunlight drizzled through.

Quickly attempting to brush off any dust on her dress, Zelda took another breath and walked out into her world.

It was noisy, and chaotic, and bustling, and wonderful. The playful breeze seemed to be tugging her towards the scene.

She finally let her smile show.

The bright blue sky was pierced with metal and wood, the thin brown lines of scaffolding, ladders, and ropes held Guardians and other Sheikah technology in the air. There were glows of orange and blue, blurs of grey and silver, and of course the dazzle of a familiar Sheikah red eye, painted on some of the hanging banners and on the clothing of various Sheikah.

Someone must have been burning coal again, the scent of smoke whirling towards Zelda. As the princess started walking around, she looked around, admiring the progress that the workers were making.

There was a strange charge in the air, something that mixed the feelings of lightning and excitement, and the feeling wasn’t just from her. Bustling by her, men and women alike rushed passed with beaming faces, arms full of paper and ink.

No one was whispering or standing still—serenity and silence were in the realm of myth. The air echoed with the whirr of machinery, and the occasional shouts of conversation between Sheikah kneeling under Guardians and atop the tallest scaffolding. Zelda saw how nonchalantly one man lay next to a Guardian head, seemingly ignorant to the fact that it could vaporize him at any second. She would have judged him for his recklessness, before the thought came to her that she had probably done the exact same thing several times. She snorted to herself.

Suddenly, a girl with white hair bumped into the princess’ shoulder, causing her to drop her journal. The Sheikah girl and Zelda started to exchange apologies, but not before the girl hastily grabbed onto her box of screws and metal scrapes, the contents a few half-seconds away from spilling onto the grass. Luckily, her reflexes avoided such a fate, and the girl let out a sigh of relief.

“Apologies, Princess.” The Sheikah girl attempted to give a little curtsey, but was more concerned with the well being of her materials than the quality of her manners.

“It’s alright, I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have stood in the middle of the path, should I?” Zelda gestured to the other scurrying Sheikah around them, before moving off to the side.

“Well, nonetheless, Your Highness, it didn’t help on my end to have my vision be impaired.” The girl used a free hand to readjust her grip on the stack of supplies that piled up past her nose.

Zelda let out an easy smile. Picking up her journal from the ground, Zelda took this opportunity to get some info without bothering any of the other busy researchers.

“Do you happen to know where they relocated that Skywatcher Guardian? The one Robbie was working on?”

“Ah right, Dr. Robbie’s latest monstrosity... The one that collapsed last night, correct? It’s by the Southeast—no wait, Southwest Waterfall. For safety reasons, I believe.” With one free hand, she made an explosion gesture with her fingers

“Kaboom!”

Zelda shook her head with a chuckle. “It’s not gonna blow up. We haven’t even installed the propellor motors, much less the power core.”

The girl raised an eyebrow, before turning back around to continue to her destination. “Oh? Well tell that to the guards.”

“What? Did someone work on it?”

The Sheikah shrugged. “I don’t know, I was working my other job in Castle Town. All I know is that the workload for the Skywatcher thing has been greatly lifted. Supposedly someone was able to give it a new surge of power. So the typical guards have been assigned, you know, to keep the potential fires in check and all that…”

Another heave of her box of supplies, and the girl started back on her path.

“Be seeing ya, Princess!” said the Sheikah girl. As she walked, she started humming some faintly familiar tavern tune.

Zelda thought to herself, gears turning in her head, as she truly started getting into a ‘researcher’s mindset,’ as her father had called it.

What did she say? Southwest Waterfall? Well, no better place to prevent fires and explosions.

With new vigor, Princess Zelda walked deeper into the realm of ancient metal.

A blur of gold and blue made its way through the courtyards. Occasionally, a wandering Sheikah would turn and greet the princess, but for the most part, they would leave the girl to her devices, literally and figuratively, as they were used to Her Highness tinkering away at the various machinery. It wasn’t like any of them cared, so long as nothing got in the way of their own work.

In a sense, it was this very mindset that truly made Zelda feel at ease. There was no beating around a sacred bush, no dance or choreography to learn, no rules to conversation, or guidelines for the way to blink. The Sheikah here just...were. They did their jobs, worked towards their task, and would generally just act like normal people.

Of course, on occasion when Zelda stopped to ask a question, their tones would change from casual to professional. A simple question like, “Is everything running smoothly?” would get responses that typically ended with, “But of course, Your Highness,” accompanied by a deep and humble bow. However, the exhausting formalities were more an issue of Sheikah attempting not to embarrass themselves, rather than something along the lines of them sucking up, or wearing a polite mask just to whisper behind her back. It was this breath of fresh air that would make the princess forever grateful for their company.

Eventually, Zelda made her way to the Skywatcher Guardian. It was easy enough to identify, given that it was a lot more...intact than usual.

Above, a sparkling waterfall rushed against stone walls, before it crashed into a large lake, where the water stilled, shimmering quietly. Surrounding the waterfall, the courtyard's green grass melded with a brick path, atop which different types of Guardians stood. Large, rotating Sentries; clambering, scurrying Stalkers; and, most notable, a single Skywatcher, laid out on its side beside the pond.

These types were still new. Robbie supposedly only got it to fly for an hour before its power began to dwindle. Yet now, the Skywatcher was humming with life. Even laid on its side, with the propellers detached, the Guardian’s head swiveled in search of an absent enemy.

It was incredible really. Just last night, it was a heap of metal and screws. Compared to then, the Guardian was not only repaired, but its functionality was restored beyond that of which Zelda and Robbie had left it.

That’s funny...that nobleman wouldn’t stop talking my ears off about how his son got a bruise when the Guardian collapsed into bits and pieces.

She shook her head, cringing at the memory of having to apologize to someone after their kid broke one of the machines essential to the protection of Hyrule.

But, at least you’re all good now. Zelda thought to herself, moving to pat the Skywatcher’s hull with a smile. Oh, you’re a beautiful one, huh? Look at all your glowing lights and chiseled design! And is that a new lens I see? Oooo and your propellers here are all polished! Wouldn’t want grime and gunk in the gears, would you? No, no you wouldn’t... You sure are a fancy little guy aren’t y—

“...Your Highness?”

Zelda jumped, her mind snapping back to reality. Whipping around, she turned to face a Hylian guard, her helm tucked under one arm. She was stoically holding a spear, but the look on her face was of thinly veiled confusion.

The princess cleared her throat, slightly sheepish. “Yes? What is it?”

The guard shifted her weight, her blonde braid falling to the side. “Well…I’ve been ordered to keep unauthorized people from touching the Guardians. We haven’t had an explosion yet, here in the Activation Zone, and I’m sure we would all like to keep it that way—”

The princess quickly held up a hand, irritation starting to form in place of the embarrassment she felt moments ago. “Wait, are you saying I’m an unauthorized person?”

“Your father said....especially and specifically for today…”

Ah. Right… Of course he would say that.

Zelda finally sighed, compliant. “Alright, I understand. Thank you. But could you tell me why exactly this one was moved here to Activation?” She took out her journal, beginning to jot down observations and notes on the Skywatcher. “Just last night, I had people complain to me for hours about its collapse, and now all of the sudden it's already being actively tested? What happened to the ‘only authorized people’ rule?”

The guard suddenly looked away, not that Zelda noticed. “Uhhh...it was worked on sometime last night and super early morning.” She played with her blonde braid, brushing it against her metal gauntlet. “That Dr. Kimura? Sh—HE was one of the head scientist guys, so it was under jurisdiction.”

Zelda nodded her head in understanding, still jotting away at the paper. Then, the princess suddenly closed her journal with a snap, clutching it to her chest. She moved a bit closer to the Guardian, angling herself to be just in front of the opening at its top, where all the mechanism and components lie.

Then, she bent her legs and started jumping up and down.

The guard’s face was full of concern and confusion. “Um...Princess…?”

“I’m not touching it! I’m just—” her eyes started to widened, as she got a better peak inside, “Ooo, that’s a new feature, what kind of properties does—” But the guard couldn’t quite hear the rest of her sentence, given that it was continuously cut off with each hop she took.

Zelda finally finished jumping, although it was from her curiosity being satisfied, and not from the guard’s efforts to stop her. The princess started again to write down notes in her journal.

“A giant ancient core! I didn’t know we had unearthed more of those. It does transfer the needed energy to the propellers faster than a standard core.” She continued hurriedly scratching away at the pages of her journal. “Smart! I honestly should have thought of it sooner. I’ll have to thank Robbie later.”

“Right…”

For the better part of an hour, Zelda continued to sit by the lake and continue her research. As irritating as it was to not be allowed to touch things, Zelda was content with the opportunity to focus on writing down her theories and thoughts. Personally, she’d have preferred some music, but, well...he wasn’t here right now. Probably off trying to keep Robbie and Purah from wreaking too much havoc.

Music aside, the princess was still much at comfort, here beside the looming Skywatcher. The rushing of the waterfall, the ambience of distant conversation, and the patter of Sheikah metal, it all culminated in a setting that made her feel right at home. Despite the entirety of the castle technically being hers, the feeling was actually something that couldn’t come often enough…

But, like seemingly every enjoyable thing in her life, it ended far too soon.

Behind her, the guard suddenly moved closer to lean down. “Your Highness.”

“Mmm?” Zelda didn’t bother to look up at her, still flipping through her pages.

“You...have a guest.”

Zelda scoffed to herself, already forming a prediction of who it might be as she got on her feet.

Father said twenty minutes early. The ceremony doesn’t start for another 38, I’m fine. If I could just show him my progress here so far, then he’ll have to—

As the princess turned to face the person in question, the words she was about to let out of her mouth suddenly caught in her throat.

Oh.

He wasn’t actually looking at her at that moment. His eyes were distant, caught up with the view of the Sanctum at the apex of the castle. His blue eyes were bright and cold, while his stupidly perfect blond hair flowed with the New Year's wind. Winter hadn’t hadn’t yet fully surrendered to the Spring, but the air was still crisp enough to warrant her to wear the long sleeve dress. Yet, the boy stood with nothing but his leather boots, pants, and a beige and grey tunic. The fact that he never shivered was just another infuriatingly perfect thing about him.

That, and the fact that he seemed to take every waking moment to show off that sword, an imposing reminder that he was better than her in every way.

Zelda cleared her throat, getting his attention. “What can I do for you, knight?” She said the last word with a tone equal to that of how one might talk to the squished remains of a spider.

The boy turned to face her, the tips of his ears slightly pink. He put up his hands in front of his chest, the sword on his back shifting with the movement. The boy gave a look towards the princess, as if asking for permission.

Ah, right. No words…

The princess couldn’t quite understand it. Five years ago, when a twelve year old Link had first found the sword, he spoke with ease. No oath of silence had stopped him from chatting it up with her and her father. He was awfully loud, especially when exclaiming to his father, Captain Leon of the royal guard, his excitement about the “cool sword” he found. In those days, Link would pester her, about the epic battle they were fated to, about the legends and Beasts and prophecy. And it was his excitement and determination that had earned her the reputation.

The lazy one. The distracted one. The powerless one, doomed to a throne of nothing. The perfect knight, and the failing heir. The gleeful boy and the silent princess.

Well, at least she wasn’t the silent one anymore.

So now those five years had passed, they had barely spoken since those days. Of course, that boy, the wielder of the Sword That Seals The Darkness, of course he would find a way to ruin her day even without opening his mouth. Finally, Zelda let out a huff, acknowledging Link.

“Hylian Sign… yes, well. I’m a bit rusty, but so long as you don’t start telling me your entire life story I should be fine. Go on.”

He nodded, his expression painfully neutral. The knight began to move his hands, bending his fingers in different motions.

‘Your father asked me to look after you, before the ceremony began. Then I could escort you there. Practice for next week when I actually…’ he paused, thinking of his next gesture, ‘when I actually start accompanying you.”’

The princess couldn’t hide her scoff. “I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way to the Sanctum, thank you very much.” She crossed her arms. “You can head there on your own, and tell the king that I’m fine. Frankly, I’m trying to enjoy my last few days of personal space.”

Zelda started the motion of spinning around and sitting back on the ground, but out of the corner of her eye she caught Link moving his hands once again.

‘I can wait here, until you’re finished, if you wish.’

She sighed, shaking her head. The princess gave a sort of halfhearted nod, as if to say “Fine, do whatever you want.” Although her distaste for the situation was made clear, given she sat back on the ground in a loud and stern demeanour.

Zelda started flipping through her journal again, trying to find where she left off. Yet, she hadn’t been writing for a full minute before she could feel it. She could feel him looking at her.

The guard was one thing, she was doing her job, and if they had something to say they would speak their mind at the princess’ command. Link, on the other hand, his stare was different. It was more similar to something like the stare she had felt in the corridor that day, although ten times worse given his eyes were guaranteed to be stoic and neutral.

Zelda wouldn’t stare him back, instead, she looked at the reflection of the lake. The water rippled slightly, the waterfall crashing in the distance. She could see the reflection of Link standing tall, and looking in the direction she was sitting. In the water, she could see his eyes. His gaze didn’t see her in the water, but the look was enough to get Zelda’s mind turning.

He thinks I’m pathetic.

Granted, he wouldn’t be the first.

Link had taken off his sword, propping it on the ground, sheath and all, as a sort of armrest. He set his elbows on the handle and continued to wait and watch. It was like some parent watching their toddler, making sure they didn’t hurt themselves. He probably thinks I’m a brat, how rich...

Although, Zelda was slightly hesitant at this theory, given that the way he was looking at her direction was so… soft. More warm than his typically glassy gaze.

Ah...

Pity.

Zelda laughed to herself. He pities the poor princess, the stupid girl who can’t figure out her destiny. The pathetic heir wasting her time with Guardians.

It all came so easy for him, it took him no time at all. What am I to him, some strange anomaly? An injured calf in the field? His destiny is held back by my struggles, and now he pities me for it. I’d like to see how he would act if he felt as useless as I.

Zelda continued to furiously scribble in her journal, but her thoughts continued to flow, one after another.

He doesn’t just pity me.

He hates me.

But on the bright side, the feelings he has for me are mutual.

Barely a minute passed, before the anxiety in Zelda’s head grew too much to bear. Was this really going to happen everyday now?

Finally, she let out a groan. In one swift motion she got to her feet, snapped her journal shut, and started marching towards the nearest entrance. Passing Link, she mumbled under her breath something slightly graphic concerning Guardians, skewers, and eyes.

Her mutters continued as she trudged towards the castle interior. She was about halfway there when she realized the only footsteps she heard were her own. Zelda turned around, finding that Link was still where he was moments ago, standing timidly, his stance hesitant to move.

“Well, are you coming?”

Link scratched the back of his head, then blinked. He picked up his sword, slung it back around him, and started to jog towards her. He was like a puppy, bounding up to their owner, only the analogy truly merged with reality given that Link seemed to be the type to only move when following orders. Spirits above, this was gonna be annoying. Zelda let out another sigh.

The two of them made their way back inside the castle. Weaving through the hallways, Zelda led the two of them up closer and closer to their destination. However, Link seemed to prefer walking five steps behind her. She tried to busy her hands, smoothing out her hair and her dress, but she couldn’t shake the swarm of thoughts in her head every time she saw the edge of Link’s shadow behind her.

Suddenly, Zelda stopped in the middle of the hall, speaking bluntly.

“If you’re really trying to live up to the knightly protection schtick, at the very least walk next to me so I don’t feel as creeped out.”

The knight blinked, then gave a nod. Once again, no reaction whatsoever. He awkwardly shuffled beside her, still with some distance between then, so that they stood at opposite ends of the width of the hall.

Zelda slumped her shoulders, but was ultimately satisfied with the situation. She continued down the hallways.

Minutes passed, then moments, then eternities. The end of each corridor couldn’t come fast enough. Although she had purposely chosen the route that ran into as little people as possible, there was a weird charge in the air given the dense silence between them.

Occasionally, she would mention something out of politeness, the typical dance of conversation. “How was your day?” and “The weather’s been weird,” and all that garbage. It didn’t help that he wasn’t much for conversation. The most he contributed to the conversation was asking why they were taking this route, as it wasn’t the quickest way to the Sanctum. Zelda gave him a blunt answer, as if to give him his own medicine, “I have an errand beforehand.”

More minutes passed, then moments, then centuries. Zelda continued to fidget with the edge of her sleeve, while Link continued his perfect silence.

The princess snuck a glance in his direction. He walked with purpose, matching her speed, but not daring to lead the way. He was watching the cycle of his steps on the floor. His face… his eyes.... It wasn't boredom. It wasn’t tiredness. He was just, blank.

She could still remember that young boy, excitedly asking her about the powers of Hylia, and glowing swords. Had he really grown out of that so quickly? Had he already managed to push down his childish ways for the sake of his duty?

Next to him, Zelda was an utter failure.

“Let me ask you something, hero. What are they going to remember you by?”

The words escaped her before she could register the noise, and the sudden sound made the boy’s posture stiffen in an instant. Link tilted his head askew in a quizzical nature.

“Me, I’ve worked my entire life to try to be something worthwhile. Today alone, I’ve worked to make my research impactful and worthwhile. I’ve had my speech for the Champion’s ceremony handcrafted to portray a desired image. My father had my dress tailor-made to something he approved of, and I work every damn day to live up to the role as the wielder of the Sealing power.”

She let out a sad sigh. “Even if it isn’t exactly the positive legacy I wanted, there is still something that people know me for.

“The solemn heir. The tired princess. Don’t you agree?”

Zelda looked at his face, trying to see some sort of reaction in his eyes.

Nothing.

She pushed further.

“Would you like another example? Well, everyone knows this tale. A young knight wanders into the woods, woods that sap your spirit and carry corpses into creeks. But instead of a fate of death, the boy found his fate in a sword, ‘for his heart was too pure to yield to the forces of evil.’ Sound about right?”

He didn’t react. The rate in which they walked slowed just barely.

“But that is just the start. The fairytale, if you will. Now, the knight becomes a truly talented and masterful swordsman. The image he gives off is of perfection and grace.” She waved her hand in an exaggerated manner. “Supposedly, that would be the end of it. That’s all we need to know.”

Then, Zelda stopped in the corridor, looking out one of the stained glass windows.

“Yet once—” she chuckled, although the laugh didn’t meet her eyes, “Once upon a time, I met a boy. He liked swords and chocolate, horses and fruit. He liked the woods, and talking, and dogs, and stories. I know because one day he and I talked, just the two of us. It was nice, but he told me something strange.”

She turned to face Link directly. “He told me he was confused. He told me he didn’t understand some of the new changes in his life. He told me he was...something along the lines of nervous.

“I told him I felt the same, for you see, the person in my life who was supposed to guide me, they were gone. This boy and I, we were in the same boat, which didn’t often happen in my life.”

She stepped closer to him, her shadows growing along the opposite wall. “I told him that if I ever found out how to stop being confused, how to figure out everything, I would tell him. And he told me the same.

“But then that boy vanished, and instead I met a knight. The perfect, dashing knight from the fairy tales…”

Zelda was less than a foot away from him now, looking at his eyes.

“...and I never spoke to that boy again. Although in a sense, I’m glad. I never found the answer he was looking for.” As she said this, she looked away, breaking her gaze.

The princess looked out the window again, while the hero continued to stare at her, unmoving. After a moment, she spoke again.

“So I ask, how should I remember you then? Who are you going to be, the knight, or the boy? I’d like to at least know that before you once again start shoving your way into my life.”

A pause, a tension in the air that could form storms, but for now it was as still as the surface of a pond. Both of them waited for an answer to appear. She could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

Finally, he raised his arms, meeting her eyes with a strange new light.

‘I plan to be whatever is needed of me.’

Another silence, but more fragile than the last. Finally, the thoughts in her head crashed together like the end of a waterfall. Zelda let out a deep sigh, before storming off down the rest of the hallway.

Perfect answer from the perfect hero. What else did I expect?

Still storming off, Zelda’s thoughts fluttered through her head. No, not just thoughts. Words. They echoed and bounced around in her head. Her words, her father’s, Link’s...words? Expressions? What do you even call them—

In her haste, Zelda nearly bumped into a large, basil green Zora. He looked down at her, puzzled, while she mumbled out apologies.

Moving past him, Zelda took in the room around her.

They had reached the main hall.

It was draped with velvet and gold, along with bright blue banners, and stained glass ceilings. More decorated that usual given today’s events. Unlike in times past, different races other than Hylians bustled across the floor. Sheikah, Rito, Zora, Gorons, Gerudo, they moved with purpose, and intent. They all knew where they were going, and where everyone else was going, up, up to the Sanctum.

Behind her, Link finally caught up. Zelda slumped her shoulders, but was ultimately glad she wouldn’t have to chase him down later. She eyed one of the ornate doors beside one of the windows, before gesturing to Link with a hand. “Well, come on then. Let’s go meet the others.”

The Sanctum is just upstairs, I’ve got 30 minutes, so 10 minutes to talk with the rest of the Champions. We’re good, we’re good...I don’t need to pay the people here any mind...

The figure of Link out of the corner of her eye pierced through her thoughts. Seeing the raised eyebrow on Link’s face as they walked, Zelda spoke in a lowly tone.

“Whatever your stance on knights and stories are, the rest of the world prefers the fairytales. They want links between the storybooks and reality, some symbol of perfection to ease their minds, to tell them that it won’t all end in failure. So come.”

Zelda paused, turning to face him directly. She looked up and down at Link’s outfit, a typical beige and grey knight’s tunic, with dark pants and boots. Then, she continued towards her destination with new vigor.

“There is something I need to give you all.”

#reblogs appreciated!#botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda botw #loz botw #where time takes us #botw fanfiction #link #link botw #zelda #zelda botw #zelink

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blackwaxidol · 4 years ago

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Drone post i fished from my drafts and finished up. it has no beginning or end i am far too scatterbrained to not indulge in train-of-thought paragraphs this is incredibly long

Drone does not like Europa very much, it took her more than a week to even consider stepping foot on it, she'd been... content to let everyone pass her by in a mad dash to glimpse at the strange signals emanating from the Galilean moon. to call her response to the message "content" is entirely incorrect, although her demeanour may be forever difficult to scry the emotional value of. she has a nervous habit of bringing her interlocked hands to her sternum, it could be mistaken for a pleading gesture were her face conveying adequate expression. her eyes are widened, but most people do not look so closely.

she has enough of Europa in her dreams and hypnagogic hallucinations to last a lifetime, there is nothing she wants to relive. so, she would shuffle through her apartment, picking apart and examining the innards of the Parcel of Stardust that irreparably ceased to function and she would obsessively pore over every last spontaneously-useless gun in her armory until it finally forced anger out of her and she would sit on the floor with her Blast Furnace on her lap and her hands over her face. a sort of computerised sniffling noise emanates from her occasionally. afterwards, she would push the half-dismantled mess under the workbench, and by extension a white sheet, and leave the room with her jaw clenched.

she makes herself comfortable in her proverbial fox den (the Drifter had called it a "nasty love nest", and narrowly avoided a swift punch to the jaw) and stays still under her weighted blanket for a while, ruminating. when Valin returns he is inevitably dragged under the sheets as a sailor's boat may be overtaken by a sea monster. Drone stubbornly refuses to elaborate and may instead lay there quietly contemplating the state of things with two warm arms wrapped around her waist and the imprints of lip gloss on her neck.

a lot crosses her mind, none of it considered anything more than recreational; she likes to consider memories of places she has explored if she is undergoing the process of sleep. hazy movements during a Dread patrol, sifting through vast hallways for the strange calcific masses that plague the titanic flagship like tumours or perhaps barnacles. there is a lifetime of data neatly woven within the very atomic bonds of those crystals and she always enjoyed hearing her beloved chatter about what new (yet terribly old, for Valin knows many things and this is mere rediscovery in the form of a dinosaur fossil) aberrant verse he has unraveled from the mind of the late Navigator. the Dreadnaught was formulaic enough that her brain can easily trick itself into feeling movements wash over the muscles as another jump onto a planeshifting platform is achieved. sink too deeply, and she bolts upright thinking she has just been bisected by a Cleaver only to discover it is mere fantasy puppeteering her mind.

such arguably troubling or morbid hallucinations are her favourite, the biomechanical-gothic architecture and complex arcana of the Hive are fascinating to study. her least favourite mind-constructs are those imposed by Clovis Bray. even so far from Europa, the hungering ascaris of SIVA lives and dies in the Plaguelands and she has never wanted anything to do with the supperating pustule that is the Tyrant's commands threaded through her exoneurons. she had been born, once, and a man of obsession had found a use for the "idiotic white noise" that lingered in spite of her transfiguration into a polymeric machine woman. a clean dose of radiolaria under vivisection to comprehend the inherent problem would be a fascinating study, but an Exomind is far too expensive to pick apart like a child impulsively dismantles their toys... thus, intricate wiring is set in stone and Xiu-1 is christened GEMU DRONE, a name her esoteric father had placed upon her for he loved the arts and humanities. GEMU, a mountain Goddess with knowledge of all the world (trapped or subsumed or graciously settled into the mountain she had been left upon, pick your poison) and DRONE, a terrible construct to deliver cold judgement from on high at the command of a master. unimportant glia segmented, a whisper of ABSALOM KNIFE had been breathed into the empty space. reimagined lethality, word into law spoken at gunpoint. an itch that cannot be scratched.

when she was reborn in the Light, her first thoughts were of fratricide. she does not know what a brother of hers could look like, but the uncontrollable obsession to grind his titanium-alloy bones to dust between her mechanical jaws shaped many of her formative movements. she unearthed and ransacked seraph bunkers as freely as she chose to breathe, but she never found Site 6. her armoury was littered with esoteric weapons of war gifted by minimalist and empty-minded metal skeletons as if she had many birthdays. when the Iron Lords perished, the flames that forged her motives had been wholly and irrevocably extinguished, and the phantom of SIDDHARTHA GOLEM faded from her mind like scar tissue that melts with time.

the days before the Black Fleet's arrival could be summarised as a hazy psychosis. for every omniscient satellite tower a Guardian helped erect, her grasp on reality and self-governed movement seized and stuttered. there is no machine the warmind could not want, no asset too unreachable to bring into his arms and configure in his image. there was a nauseating buzzing along her spine and she had been driven to automutilation to make it stop. her Ghost, who had long since accepted the stubbornness of his charge and the SIVA node he was essentially entombed in, took a page out of Eos's book and let Drone be unreachable in death for a week or two. the rest was helpful, he observed, but Drone spoke of death-dreams about an ancient garden that felt like home. it felt, she told him, like she had met family she did not know she had.

amongst the flowers, her brassy and moss-woven cousins, winnowing in their billions.

#viktor.txt #oc: drone #long post #this has been in my drafts for a long while #upon requemst of Gwen... i unearth Drone Lore for you...#everything after the third paragraph is what i have just added #i adore discussing the mechanics of hypnagogic hallucinations i have had them my entire life #it is the most absurd form of hallucination i can think of #you can allow yourself to sink into what your brain is projecting and soon the lines between what is real and isn't completely blur #you are obviously not acting out movement but you FEEL like you are. your muscles feel like they are pleasantly moving in mimicry #and you may be prone to jolting out of a hallucination if you fall too far down #these tags were written in paragraph four and have long since become irrelevant #i know this post could be split into smaller posts but i am not good at segmenting topics like this. enjoy behemoth of several topics.#i have a little tiny post a few spaces above this (soon to no longer be) draft that is quite menial in comparison #just light discussion on the topic of domestics and disability #gwen if u made it this far i am digesting ur messages slowly like a fine buffet meal that i intend to return to several times #chew... chew... chew... thinking of response...#oh wrow the new half of this post took me almost an hour to conjure... my poor bedtime...

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regeek · 5 years ago

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Thoughts about the Deltora Gem Guardians

I’ve fallen back into the fandom of a book series I read as a kid thanks to great art, memes, and analysis by tumblr users like @doomofthehills, @sisterofthesouth, @rat-king-reeah, @dragoninmypocket, and @dragonloverdoran. I’ve been rereading the books and ahve a lot of thoughts about them. Theres a really good post by @mask131 about how each book reflects the stone in it that got me thinking about the gem guardians.

Deltora is interesting for it’s themes of anxiety and despair. Sure, each book has a big scary monster, but often the stakes are as emotional as they are physical. Lief clearly struggles with anxiety, and has two attacks (in Shifting Sands and Shadowgate) that almost read like dissociative episodes. A lot of people have said they interpret the struggle against the Shadow Lord as a metaphor for living with depression or anxiety. Rereading the third series this is quite obvious, but I think there’s a bit more woven into the monsters of the original series. All of the Deltora books have a unique, memorable monster in its climax, some of the most diverse in fantasy fiction. But I think each of these monsters has a deeper meaning. In addition to being twisted versions of the ideal each Gem represents, I think they are each intended to represent a negative thought pattern, one that led them to their monstrous life and one the protagonists must keep themselves from falling into.

First up is Gorl, who I think represents Delusion. I’m not saying he’s meant to be a metaphor for actual psychosis symptoms (though he is one of the more unhinged characters in the series) but rather self delusion. Gorl lives in his own little world, unaware of even the most basic developments of Deltora’s history. He’s also one of the least interested in the stone he guards, obsessing over a different treasure our protagonists don’t even want. Gorl has been consumed by both his own greed and guilt, incapable of accepting the reality he has created for himself. He is a mass of paranoia and ignorance, trapped in a prison of his own making. (A theme later touched on in Isle of Illusion.)

Soldeen is one of the easiest to peg: Depression. Happiness and despair are examined from multiple angles in the Lake of Tears, and in Soldeen’s case he represents the tendency for people to drag others into their own misery. This is most clear when he attempts to force Manus to live with him, but is generally why the Lake of Tears is such a depressing place: it’s ruler would rather force others to join in his misery than find happiness for himself.

Reeah is also pretty obvious: Narcissism. It is curious how vain Reeah is, given that pride isn’t one of the main themes of City of the Rats. It is an interesting bit of foreshadowing that Reeah considers itself the most valuable of the Shadow Lord’s servants, the “Chosen One.” We see a lot of the Shadow Lord’s minions feel the same way, though in Reeah’s case it might be true. Reeah was tasked with not only guarding the Opal, but the source of the Grey Tide. Reeah is also the guardian most responsible for corrupting its section of Deltora. The City of Rats exists solely to feed Reeah, giving it a kingdom where every other creature is tiny and insignificant compared to it. But the rats small size is made up for by their numbers, and ultimately they end up feeding on Reeah as it fed on them.

The Hive can be seen as representing Conformity or Compulsion. This sort of thing is par for the course for hive minds in fantasy and sci-fi, but it’s interesting how the Hive affects the minds of those around it. Rigane the Mad and Lief struggled to keep their inviduality when exposed to the will of the Hive. It nearly pushed them into a life of mindless obedience through sheer force of will. The Shadow Lord and his followers always tried to manipulate and control others through trickery and deception, the Hive used brute force. One of the most chilling lines in the series is when Lief realized the warning didn’t say “mindless will to survive” but “mindless will to serve the Hive.” It’s interesting that we never saw the Hive’s queen, though we know it had one. I would assume she was a creature of compulsive service too. The Hive wasn’t about serving an individual, but service for its own sake.

Gellick represents Spite. While Reeah focused on how high it was above others, Gellick relished in punishing those below it. Gellick was petty and demanding, doling out harsh punishments for the smallest slight. It demanded nothing less than complete subjugation and was barely satisfied with that. Gellick was like a petulant child, reminding me of Dudley Dursley. Gellick was able to get away with this abhorrent attitude because it was so certain nobody would rebel against him, as they needed his poison. Gellick took full advantage of this to be as bossy and horrible as possible for he never believed anyone would resist.

The Glus is a little hard to pin down, but I would argue it represents Instinct. Instincts aren’t necessarily bad, but in order to make it in life you have to resist your base urges every now and then. The Glus’ origin story adds an interesting layer, depending how you interpret it. Either it preserved the girl who cared for it in its web forever, or it ate her despite her kindness, ruled only by its own hunger. Either way I think the Maze of the Beast is not the ideal environment for the Glus, and it can be thought of as an invasive species. I imagine the Glus is meant to crawl in the ocean floor, its massive size free to explore the open sea. It is as trapped in the Maze as its victims, refusing to leave a habitat it was not meant for. I find it notable that the way the trio escaped the Glus is by damaging its home, and it ignored prey in favor of its obsessive need to repair its environment. I also find it interesting how the only two Guardians that are not destroyed are the Glus and the Hive, who are also the only two that are natural parts of Deltora’s ecosystem.

The Guardian of the Diamond is kind of tricky. He’s the most intelligent, and most human of the guardians, so his personality is the most complex. He’s also explicitly associated with greed, pride, hate, and envy, making it hard to associate him with a single theme. However I think that overall he is a creature of Sadism. He is obsessed with games and puzzles, forcing his victims to play them. But he delights in the knowledge that no matter what they do, they are doomed to failure. He is excessively polite and glib, even though he plans to kill everyone he meets. And why wouldn’t he be? He knows they can’t steal the Diamond, and even if they figure out his puzzle, the revelation of his “true name” will make them abandon hope. So he sits on the side, taunting his victims with false kindness and reveling in their inevitable suffering.

It should be noted that in each book, Lief, Barda and Jasmine succeed by rejecting the lifestyle of each guardian. They destroy Gorl with the prison of vines he built around himself. They convince Soldeen to pull himself out of his own despair. They feed Reeah to the masses he lorded over. They retrieve the Lapis Lazuli from the Hive by replacing it with something of equal size but no value, and Lief keeps his sanity with the help of his friends. They destroy Gellick by uniting the Kin and Dread Gnomes in rebellion against him, and his own awful personality is what ultimately kills him. They distract the Glus with a more powerful instinct than its hunger. And they play the Guardian’s game but keep up their resolve the whole time, even at its emotionally devastating conclusion.

Anyway, hope any DQ fans reading this liked it. I’d love to hear your thoughts, And I’m thinking about doing a similar thing for the guardians of the Four Sisters.

#deltora #deltora quest

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4th-space-poetic-threads · 4 years ago

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Ethnographic Poem: ‘Re-searching the 4th Space’

This is a poem I wrote in March of 2019. It is an auto-ethnographic poem about my experience as a practice led researcher (and journey from June 2010 until early 2021).

I undertook a doctoral research inquiry into the collaborative creative process (emergent space and subsequent transformations) between artists, people with their communities and institutions. This poem was written along the way, and reveals a process of critical, reflexive, relational and performative inquiry: that led me to re-visit and “re-search” the places, the sites of practice, the collaborative creative projects, interconnected webs of relationships, as well as spaces I thought I knew. Further, how this generated new insights in praxis.

The poem is made of a number of parts that revealed themselves over the course of the research. It includes embodied narrative with my own self discoveries and autobiography as the researcher, generating auto-ethnographic based text in relation to the research, as well as (auto)ethnographic performance with mask and photography. The poetic text and imagery reveals the dynamic overlays and interplays between them. The image sequence performed in the place where one of the significant research discoveries and interconnected narratives (of women artist/practitioners), that further led to the writing of ‘Bone Poems’ (see Prince, 2018).

Re-searching the 4th Space

Part 1: In the beginning

This story begins with a mask, at the end, she appeared

through her

the story unmasked

now re-told through me.

II.

It took me years to find her to shatter and re-search what I thought I knew and for all the pieces to come together anew.

III.

I stumbled on a messy web a tapestry of dynamic interconnections

IV.

I saw the butterfly not caught but shifting spaces of change.

I saw relationships interwoven over time, place people, projects and space connected in unexpected ways.

VI.

I was lost deep in the forest far left of centre in a “disorientating dilemma” I stumbled on the bone of munitions and radioactive waste,

VII.

Divergent narratives converged my perspective shifted and she opened a door.

VIII.

I learned the poetic and metaphoric can access dimensions that linear narratives do not.

IX.

Yet the weight of what I found I could not bear.

My body was wracked with adversity when my teacher appeared

chronic pain is a high-pitched scream that no-one else can hear

in the darkness, I found her here,

XI.

yet she was fully un-formed.

XII.

Dreaming and making her awakens something indescribable in me through her I move between worlds of researcher, practitioner and artist

(Alchemist, Storyteller, Sage, ‘Larakina’[1] or a Trickster, maybe) [2]

XIII.

Making her I found courage to speak the unspeakable to see the unseen.

Part 2 : The forgotten dark I.

I always wondered what the dark was in me the one that could not speak.

II. Dark roots take hold across my body, - who is she?

An ancestral thread in the maternal line the old ones do not speak.

III. I see her I see me I see dark deep ink eyes, that see in moonless nights.

Part 3: Raison d’etre

I. Out of the silent movement of flour and water, layers of paper and paint made upon my table she revealed herself to me.

II. Who is it, that is she?

III. Is she ‘La Loba’ [3] who sings back the shattered bones guiding me to each piece?

Is she the clue that fell from the mouth of my great Aunt the last oral trace my family barely speak?

Whine long and of no words all dirge then to us as children she would speak:

“you come from the Gypsy’s but don't tell a soul or taken you will be in the middle of night”

Woven thread of black hair others with ‘olive’ complexion Dutch migration, pathways of Sinti Romani?

My grandmother’s great aunt the Russian dancer they called “madame ruble” Is she thread of my Eastern European and Middle Eastern DNA?

An ancestral lineage who in us tremble with fear and yet not erased.

IV. Is she the life force that enters the souls of my feet?

Uncontrolled not on command not on begging but when the conditions

align the stars and moon alight from the soul to earth to my feet

is it she who rises in my belly, my chest through my eyes, and breath?

My body expands trembles and breaks her gravity pulls me closer.

Part 4: Other Ways to Be

Portrait of the author, photo by Richard Prince, 2019.

I. Is she Ataecina rising?

II. Or the wind of ‘el duende’[4] one my teacher named in me?

III. Is it she – the broken hill when I stood in-between

the ruin and mint bush?

Beneath the cedar pines not as alone as it seemed in the time I could not hear and before I had learned to speak?

Is she bride of ‘Bluebeard’ [3] blood appears

that will not let her sleep the one who will not be free until she turns the key?

IV. Is she Aletheia [5] who tears transparent holes in my skin

Is it she that can see into other worlds and ways to be?

Part 5: The un-concealed

I. Guardian of dreams and metaphor, storyteller of transformation,

II. Both that which is revealed and concealed the unexpected and interconnected lead me to abandoned train tracks and a broken trail of bones [6]

III.

I am still haunted by a single question

IV.

“Why are there men in white suits testing our soil” asked the two women who lived down the street?

I re-opened unanswered questions I bit the apple unknowingly I ate the fruit.

V. I search and (re) search a landscape and stories I thought I knew.

Barbed wire, surveilled spaces secret places questions lay in boxes versions of the truth spun in webs

breathe in breathe out, soil of life

breathe in breathe out, light of death.

VI. Why did our superiors instruct us not to speak ? VII. Why were the two women’s questions erased? Who will know the intentional ‘empty spaces’ in the final government data and reports ?

VIII. A crack is revealed stories that were concealed in their multiplicity, now bend towards the light.

IX. Amidst institutional resistance, my relationships with the artists turned impenetrable stone for it was not the community alone, but artists who worked with these communities who also carried hidden stories of the bone.

Sensory Poetic Relationship Mapping (SPRM) experiments by the author, photo by the author, 2015.

Moving, singing, making an ‘aesthetic space’[7] a theatre of relationships mapped out on my kitchen table

insights in practice interweave theory, and bleeds into practice changing me

a theatre of the 4th Space enacted and all that lays in-between.

XI.

Witness to the configurations of transformations taking place, those that cannot be seen

nor measured (by linear means) the ephemeral and that which is still yet to be.

XII. The illegitimate, erased, the undocumented buried, do not see the light

flowers in the desert that bloom in the deep of night

here in Western Sydney amidst toxic waste sites

stories from women who saw the ‘Bluebeard’[8] now speak, beneath us out of ‘sight’

the water still flows those that we do not know and have not yet come to know are all legitimate transformations.

Footnotes

[1] Hodge, B., G. Coronado, F. Duarte and G. Teal (2010). Chaos theory and the Larrikin Principle: Working with organisations in a Neo-Liberal world. Advances in Organizational Studies. Egypten, Liber, Copenhagen Business School Press.

[2] Irwin, R. (2015). "Becoming A/r/tography." Studies in Art Education 54(3): 198-215.

[3] See: Estés, C. P. (1995). Women Who Run With the Wolves. New York, Ballantine Books, The Random House Publishing Group.

[4] This references teachings I received in oral transmission and experiential exercise with Michael Meade. We went into the forest and were each given a word on wood to work with for the next 5 days, the word I received in this practice was ‘Duende”. This was followed by a profound personal experience on the 5th day that was shared with Michael and he said was the ‘duende’. This term is discussed at length by poet and writer by Fredrico Garcia Lorca in ‘the practice and theory of duende’ see https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sCbus6UHKD4 . It is discussed at length by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, (1992, 1995: p.20 p. 519) who refers to ‘El duende’, her work specifically is discussed further in this overarching statement in ‘Old Stories and New Eyes”.

[5] I acknowledge a conversation with Dr Fiona McAllan who introduced Aletheia “the most important Greek counterpart of our ‘truth’ “(Wolenski, 2004, p. 341) to me.

[6] Teachings on retrieving the Bone received in oral transmission in teachings “Original Voice” with Clarissa Pinkola Estes in Colorado, 2016.

[7] See: Boal, A. (1995). The Rainbow of Desire: The Boal Method of Theatre and Therapy. London, Routledge.

[8] See: the story of the Bluebeard as retold by Clarissa Pinkola Estés (1992)

Further Links:

Prince, C. (2018) ""Bone Poems: Listening and Speaking from the Ground", Ethnographic Edge Vol 2

http://tee.ac.nz/index.php/TEE/article/view/33/24

Podcast reading of poem 1 from ‘Re-searching the 4th Space’

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/wildazurebutterfly/episodes/2020-09-23T04_12_48-07_00

#4thSpace ethnographicpoetry #(auto)ethnographic performance #autoethnography

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 5 years ago

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Teeth Marks, Empty Nest, Picking Ritual | Writing Update

Hey People of Earth!

It’s been a hot minute since I last wrote a Moth Work writing update, and so here we are again for the final countdown! Today’s post will be covering everything related to chapter 12, 13, and 14. Let’s start with Teeth Marks, which I wrote probably sometime in February.

Teeth Marks marks the third part of Moth Work, called Wings, and the first chapter back in Harrison’s POV. I honestly can’t remember much of the writing process as it’s been a while, so let’s dive straight into the scene breakdown!

Scene A:

We start in the doorway of Eliza’s apartment where Harrison stands shook because a) his boi Lonan has answered it (scandal) and his mother, who he has been estranged from for the last four years, is also in this apartment (EXTRA scandal). Eliza ushers Harrison inside (and this is probably the only *nice* interaction they ever have, spoiler alert!)

Harrison is very shook, and also a little angry, and also a little confused! He doesn’t know why his mother is here, and doesn't understand why Lonan wouldn’t contact him to tell him she is here.

Him and Eliza get into a bit of a scuffle where Eliza is protective of Lonan and is like “who are you mate” and Harrison’s like hahahHA pardON. This leads to Lonan kicking them both out even tho this ain’t even his house!

Scene B:

We now move to the stairwell right outside Eliza’s apartment where she and Harrison have been sitting in awkward silence! Harrison notices she’s wearing his guardian angel necklace (which Lonan mistakenly took back in chapter 6).

This scene is instrumental in setting up how these two interact, which in short, is not! fun! for! either! They try to be civil but can’t help but be protective over Lonan for different reasons. Eliza because they are now sort of in a relationship, and Harrison because hahaha he’s been there, and also because Eliza is Lonan’s father’s ex! Why!

Lonan interrupts this conversation and him and Harrison have a lil private moment even tho Eliza is standing right there aahaha. Eliza leaves which prompts Lonan to go after her, and we end with Harrison all alone in the stairwell like a proper sad boi.

Excerpts:

I previously wrote some mean things about this chapter and am editing it out cuz we tryna be positive! Here’s some tender romance because why not! For context, Harrison has asked Eliza how much she knows about the nature of the boys’ relationship (she knows nothing!!)

He could tell her the truth. About the polaroids left back in Boston. What it felt like to kiss him underwater. What it felt like to dance with him, his clumsy instep. What it felt like to trace each notch of his ribs in the off moments he’d sleep and how wonderful it was, to touch the places his hunger would go.

Some more romance because yesss:

He pretends they’re alone at the cabin, somewhere on the water, sharing a sleeve of crackers, looking at the moon like it’s the other’s iris, somewhere where constellations read less like hieroglyphics and more like sonnets.

Let us move onto chapter 13, Empty Nest!

Scene A:

Harrison sits alone at the dinner table watching a TV show in a language he doesn’t speak. His mother interrupts this *chillin* and they get into a heated conversation.

This ends badly for Harrison, to which Lonan (who is presumably arguing with Eliza in her bedroom) comforts him and yeets the two of them outta that apartment! Knight in shining armour babyyyy

Scene B:

Lonan takes Harrison to chapter nine’s beautiful place (the cove).

They chat about their (fallen) relationship and Lonan + Eliza’s relationship that is apparently now flourishing (hahah it actually isn’t)

This turns romantical very fast!!! I am guilty of self-indulgence!!

Excerpts:

EDIT: I originally had an edit in here saying I didn’t have the mental spoons to edit this chapter which is why I wouldn’t share a lot of excerpts! This was very true haha, as I was amidst the worst mental health week I’ve had in years, but guess! who! tried! to! edit! anyway! This obviously was not the best idea and I pushed myself too hard. This led to me doing some crying and beyond that, a decision to take a few days off of writing (despite the fact that I didn’t want to). I’m feeling great now which I’m so grateful for, but just a note! Anyhow!!

This excerpt makes me laugh because it gives me “lonely man sitting on his porch in the prairies” vibe:

No one eats together. Lonan and Suzanna have already taken their pick, and Eliza eats in her room. Harrison hasn’t seen Lonan since he followed Eliza’s empty trail back into the apartment, and he hears him now, between the drone of infomercials and advertisements on the Spanish TV station he doesn’t even understand. Coming from her room, he can picture him, the way Lonan argues, competitive like he’s trying to win something. Suzanna sits on the balcony, maybe hiding a smoke, or something more ridiculous, new age, like an essential oil pen. Ribbons of grey luminescing in the neon lights. Maybe it’s more accurate to say Harrison eats alone.

This is the excerpt that I had a breakdown editing lmaooo I think it’s cute tho!!

Somewhere better is a beach. Hidden in a cove, the stones arched over seafoam. In the moonlight, sand glitters, water trills, a night owl in the distance wails. Lonan leads him to the cove’s heart, a bullet of clearing that reveals constellations neither recognize. Lonan’s brought a basket with him, unfolds the checked blanket across the shore. Harrison sits first, and observes as Lonan travels the cove’s perimeter, collecting driftwood as he goes. He stacks them into a pyramid at the shore’s lip, pulls out a lighter.

He starts the fire easily, cups the flame like it’s a jittering organism, coaxes it until it expands. The flame tints his jaw gold, glares in his eyes so they look like blue fire. The night halos around Lonan, burnishes the cove walls, turns the sand into a mirage. As Lonan nurses the fire, Harrison traces his face, the violet impasto around his eye. Lonan has always looked like a masterpiece to him, damp black hair that almost looks navy blue, a smile so subtle, it’s almost acquired. He holds the fire so it toasts his chin, his focus a delicate, paternal thing.

Picking Ritual is chapter 14 of the book! I wrote this during reading break, and it’s one of my faves a) because of the title and b) because Harrison and Eliza FIGHT (I’m here for the tea).

Scene A:

Lonan and Harrison get back from their self-care-gone-romantical escapade to drunk Eliza creepily sitting in the dark!! Harrison’s mother has left, which Eliza uses as cruel ammo (don’t we love her)!

This is where we really get to see Eliza’s other side as she gets gaslighty as a response to Harrison’s very true callouts

Scene B:

Later, Eliza may or may not purposefully leave her bedroom door open while mildly unholy matters occur that’s all I’m gonna say about that!!!

Scene C:

Eliza leaves her room to “get some orange juice” (she’s trying to get a rise out of Harrison, which works). They roast each other endlessly until Harrison asks her to play a game with him.

Scene D:

This game is a game of cards, which is actually Harrison choosing four cards (king of spades = Lonan’s father, queen of hearts = Eliza, the joker = Lonan, and a jack = Harrison) so he can learn more about each one he chooses for her.

This is where the chapter title comes from!

Excerpts:

The following is a self-roast because my house does all the following (besides magnets on ALL four corners of dishcloths, there’s currently just one. ;) Lonan in this scene is Fiona in that scene in Shrek 2 where Shrek and King Harold are arguing over dinner (CW: there’s a description here that could be potentially triggering for self-harm!).

Suzanna is gone when they get back to Eliza’s apartment. No jacket on the coat hook. No shoes on Eliza’s straw-woven welcome mat. The kitchen has been picked over, each plate, fork, back in its strangely correct place. Eliza keeps her cutlery in jars, and her pans in the oven, her dish cloths magnetted to the fridge by all four corners, a pristineness that feels chemical.

Just as he’s about to comment on it, a light from the living area flicks on, and underneath sits Eliza, paging through a book in the dark. Spots like wine stains on her cheeks shine glassy under the harsh lightbulb.

“She has a place twenty minutes from here. By the public gardens,” she says, running her fingernail against the ribbed spine of the hardcover. Harrison can’t make out the title. When he stares blankly at her, examining the patches on her skin until he’s memorized of their surface area, she clears her throat and shuts the book. “Your mother?”

“I know,” he says.

“That your mother has a place twenty minutes from here?”

“That you were referring to my mother.”

“So you didn’t know?”

ugh I love Harrison and Eliza arguing it’s my fave dynamic:

Eliza stands, and smooths the silk of her night dress, though one crease continues to bunch. She folds her hand into a fist, and brings it to her mouth, biting on her knuckles as she paces. Harrison and Lonan watch her, and Lonan’s about to step toward her when she nods and directs her gaze straight at Harrison. “Did that upset you?” she asks, peeling a sliver of skin up between her teeth, letting it snap back. “The way I spoke of your mother.”

“I don’t care about anything you have to say.”

Oof oof tensions be RISING:

Lonan knocks on Eliza’s door a half hour later and doesn’t come back out. Harrison watches the shut door like he can break through it from the couch, how heavy it sits in its frame like they’ve taken turns smearing caulking in its seams.

The nightglow decolours his chin, his eyes, and he stares at the stars as he did an hour ago with Lonan. He touches his lips, hoping something divine will reappear on his fingers, something divine enough to anoint himself with. Nothing does, of course, but he tries, dappling each groove of his mouth.

Here’s some Eliza being Eliza :)

He should tell her to buy some curtains. The sliding door’s glass opens to her balcony where his mother stood, pouring onto the busy street below her apartment complex. He can almost perfectly replicate the image of his mother with just his fingertip, a familiarity of her unknown, but unconsciously memorized by him. Suzanna has traded her only pair of shoes—a dingy set of floral flip-flops—for boots with silver zippers, steel toes, heels perfected by a designer she has a connection to. He thinks of his mother with sour precision, a sugary glumness that makes his mouth heavy.

He still wears the angel Lonan re-fastened around his neck and examines it against the belly of the two-seater Lonan once slept on.

She’s lost a stone from where he threw it, almost unnoticeably in the corner where her wings meet her back. He runs his finger over the empty spot, a nearly undetectable groove, and wonders how difficult it would be to find it in the tooth of Eliza’s hardwood.

Just as he’s prepared to get up and find out, the heavy door jars open. Wider than he’s expecting, so he can see Lonan from the couch. Arranged against a pillow, his hair disappearing into the dark wood of Eliza’s bedhead. His eyes closed, a tremor that rocks through his forehead every few seconds. And then quickly, Eliza shuffling through the opening. She wears a kimono patterned with koi fish, the fabric rustling against her bare thighs as she enters the kitchen.

Harrison watches her through his eyelashes, her half-up hairdo falling toward her face, the flash of skin pale, like the peel of the moon.

She grabs a glass he washed and fills it from the sink. Once a bulb forms across the surface, she tips it to her lips, and swallows deliberately.

Harrison watches as she checks the sink for unwashed dishes she knows aren’t there. As she adjusts a placement on her table that doesn’t need adjusting. As she spins herself on her toes around the kitchen island, her kimono splaying so he sees flashes of her thighs again. She dances like this back to her bedroom, where she sets her water glass on the dresser, and keeps the door wide open.

I can’t not share this part I apologize there is some spice but also Harrison’s iconic Gay (TM) takedown at the end brings me so much joy:

Eliza exits the room a half hour later, except this time, doesn’t dance. Still, she steps carefully, her toes taut as she patters against the floorboards. Harrison watches her with his arms crossed, and stays like that, even when they make eye contact.

She startles and re-adjusts her kimono, so the clip of her skin disappears. She’s combed her hair since she and Lonan finished, and it sits gauzy over her forehead.

“Have you ever thought of buying a deadbolt?” he says, watching carefully as she turns and grabs a glass from a cabinet.

The refrigerator thrills when she opens it, a wash of gaudy tungsten yellowing her face. She sucks on her lip as she pulls out a bottle of orange juice, glugging a cupful into her mouth first, and then into a glass.

“A deadbolt,” she says, a lightness in her voice—false innocence. “Why?”

“I’ve heard good things. Security. Privacy. You live alone, don’t you?”

She juts the orange juice to her lip fast, her chin bucking like she’s taking a shot. “I do.”

“You’re planning on keeping it that way?”

Eliza drains the last of the orange juice and rests the glass in the sink. She flicks on the tap so a stream splashes into its mouth like somersaults, diluting the juice until the glass cleans.

“There must be someone,” Harrison elaborates. He shifts, so his legs hang off the couch’s edge. The hardwood is cold, and for a moment, he feels like he’s stepping on water. “You’re seeing people, aren’t you? You live in Las Vegas. Good job. Decent apartment.”

Eliza shakes off the wet glass and sets it on the drying rack. “Are you interested?”

“I’m gay, but thanks. How does that work, anyway? Dating you. Would I send in an application? Self-addressed stamped envelope and all? Email?”

ugh more iconic Harrison I love him:

Harrison’s eyes focus on the lip balm and he imagines Lonan putting it there, his finger moving across her mouth and then down, like an anointment. “Isn’t that such a coincidence, then? You’re so selective, yet you manage to date two members of the same family.”

Her smile fades. Eliza clucks her tongue and wipes her mouth quickly with the back of her hand. Thoughtlessly, she refills the clean glass with more orange juice, and only realizes her mistake after the liquid sits precisely at the rim of the cup.

“Shit,” she says, wringing her hand out. “Shit.”

“I’ll drink it,” he says, and is already up and at the kitchen island before she puts another hand on the glass. Eliza almost scowls, but chews on her gums when she catches herself. She slides the glass across the granite, and a blip of orange juice jitters onto the surface. Harrison dabs his pinky in it and sucks it into his mouth. “I want to ask you a favour.”

“I’m not doing anything for you.”

He puts a hand against the fridge before she can move past him, and Eliza sighs, weaves her arms haughtily over her chest. “Cards.” The fridge rumbles to life under his fingertips, and Eliza jumps. “Play a game with me,” he says.

Sharing because of Harrison’s roast at the end, it’s really just one of those days:

Eliza’s a good shuffler. Easily, she dices the cards, the hard split of their edges when he usually shuffles almost non-existent. He’s only ever met one other person who can shuffle like her—his mother.

Harrison sips the orange juice as she shuffles the deck. In all truth, he doesn’t need the cards to be shuffled—he knows exactly which ones he needs. But her ease intrigues him, and he can’t help but feel mesmerized with each flitter of the deck.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” he asks after another long pull of juice.

She cuts the deck and continues. “My father.”

“I didn’t know you had parents.”

“I didn’t know your mother had children.”

“I don’t think she knows either.”

Eliza rests the shuffled deck onto the countertop and nudges it toward him. He hasn’t told her what game they’re going to play, and as Harrison searches for his necessary cards, the prickle of her gaze deadens. He keeps at task, combing each card and pulling out the needed.

“I would’ve liked to know.” Eliza says this nimbly. “You look like her.”

Another pick. “Every son wants to look like their mother. What a dream.”

“I meant that as a good thing.��

“And I meant what I said as a bad thing.”

What a way to end this update lol!

I’ll be back soon with an update for the final chapter in this book! I hope y’all have been okay in these times, I know it’s not easy. Let me know what you’re working on!

--Rachel

#writing #amwriting #writeblr #writerblr #writingupdates #mothwork #fostered

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claiirvoyantjedi · 4 years ago

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｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ || Headcanons :: Eileria || ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I thought I’d share my headcanons on Kyrra’s homeworld, Eileria. I’m not done, and some of the details definitely needs work. But this is primarily for myself to refer to when I use Kyrra’s Lady of Eileria verse and I think I already have way more details than I’ll ever need.

Enjoy!

Asterological information

· Region Mid rim

· Sector Nicandra sector

· System Eileria System

· Moon(s) Geon II Yeliv

· Trade routes The Couter route The Celanon spur

· Rotation period 26 standard hours

· Orbital period 324 days

Physical information

· Class Terrestrial

· Atmosphere Breathable

· Climate Hot and dry

· Primary terrain Cities Plains Mountains and hills Oceans Forests

· Points of interest Oquion Sanctuary

Ruroluna bay The great Eilerian sea Lake lands Mos Miara Palace Vulcano fields of Nagrea

Societal information

· Primary language(s) Basic Twi’lek

· Immigrated species The foregone (Extinct) Humans Twi’lek

· Government Aristocracy

· Demonym Eilerian

· Major cities Mos Miara (Capital) Jiamel Filhnaes Su’inia Viphaistia

· Major imports Electronics Technology Ore

· Major exports Silk Art Organic chemicals Wine Foodstuffs Perfumes

· Affiliation The galactic republic The Confederacy of Independent systems

· Most of Eilerias major cities are located at the coasts, but the capital of Mos Miara is located on the inland

· Eileria’s seas are farmed for the Cetu, a seaweed used in pharmaceuticals. When treated correctly it contains a chemical that provides very potent pain relief. Its production and processing is regulated for trade reasons as well as the danger of disturbing the aquatic life that also thrive on the weed or farming it to extinction.

· A peaceful people who take great pride in hospitality and generosity. One of the great offences one can commit on the planet surface is to disrespect the rules of hospitality by disrespecting your host and their home or mistreating your guest.

· Eileria is home to a fairly large population of Twi’leks, having welcomed them as refugees many years ago. Many chose to stay and became part of the community. The current ruler of the principality of Bylene, L’idara Deulara, is a Twi’lek.

· About two thousand years prior to the Clone Wars, Eileria was deep in bloody civil wars. The noble families fought each other for power and control over the system. Over time and through many treaties the large battles turned into quiet assassinations and from that to sabotage and espionage, to finally settling on the peaceful and cooperative system currently in order. Everyone agreed on never letting the bloody shadow of their past return, nurturing peaceful ideals, philosophies and diplomacy.

· Even though the bloody and violent days are far behind them, teaching the youths of noble families self-defence is a tradition that have not really faded with time. For younger generations of the noble class to get together in friendly spars, showing off their skills, is common.

· Aside from nobility being unable to keep rom killing each other, the past systems also brought on regular revolts from the people they ruled. Even now the council ruling Eileria is exceedingly mindful of the will of the people, because they can and will fight them if they are unhappy, and they are educated enough to know it.

· Eileria was once populated by a race now only known as The Foregone. A humanoid race that was eradicated about a million years before the rise of the old republic when a great catastrophe caused earthquakes and tsunamis to destroy their civilization. Traces of them are still found in the shape of ancient buildings, on the ocean floor and dotting the landscape of the inland.

· On Eileria the age of responsibility is 17. At this point the individual is considered an adult and is legally responsible for their own actions and affairs. Before that they are the responsibility of a parent or legal guardian.

· Eileria foster a people who value peace, philosophy, artistic expression and education. The ruling body were composed of families who represented and contributed to the spread of these values among the masses the most.

· Eileria is split into 5 principalities, each ruled by a duke or duchess. These nobles make up the ruling council who, along with a group of elected officials and local representatives, get together to discuss issues or make any decisions that affect the people as a whole, including but not limited to such issues as laws, taxation or handling of growing conflicts. The current rulers are Aarek Lira of Piatz, Shesea Pabrivi of Nagrea, L’idara Deulara of Bylene, Filo Ulesse of Criyne and Lis Ahidaris of Eideyria. The title is passed down to the current occupant’s eldest child when they die, retire or for any other reason is incapable or unwilling to maintain the position. This is assuming they are of the proper age. Though seventeen is the age when one is legally considered an adult, you need to be at least fifteen to sit on the council. A seat can remain empty for up to a maximum of three years before a new duke or duchess will be elected to take the place. If there is no one to inherit the title the council will elect a new duke or duchess to take the place. There has been no need to elect a new member for over a hundred years.

· Although the five nobles rule together, every five years a chairperson is elected from among them. Whoever is elected serves as the face of Eileria and the council on official matters, but they have very little authority to do anything without first addressing the issue with the council. However, they serve symbolic importance and well-liked chairmen can have a lot of influence over the people. At the start of the Clone Wars Shesea Pabrivi of Nagrea was the chairwoman, replaced shortly thereafter by Aarek Lira of Piatz who then held the seat throughout the war.

· The current Eierian representative in the Confederacy of Independent systems is Senator Peri Lira.

· The Eilerian winters are relatively short and mild; usually marked by an upswing in colder winds, shorter days and rain. Snow is a rare occurrence for the coastal cities but the regions around the mountains can on a more regular occasion wake up to snow that has blown down from the mountain ridges. On occasion harsher winters will swoop in, covering even the coasts in snow. It’s not too common however.

· The traditional greeting on Artorias is to place the right hand placed flat over the heart and then brought down to the side, palm facing out towards the person you greet. In formal situations this also accompanied by a bow. The bow is done in two different ways, depending on who you are addressing. To someone who is older or of higher status than you the bow is done by carefully shifting the left leg back a little and gently bending the knees. If you are greeting someone younger or the same age as yourself, of lower or similar social rank, you simply do a gentle lean forward at the waist. All while doing the proper movement of the right hand.

· The people of Eileria don garments that are comfortable for the hot, dry climate.

· A past tradition for colors was that which set strict codes for what colours and hues you were allowed to wear depended on your age. White and near white shades for the very youngest and adolescents who are then gradually introduced to more colours and deeper, darker and more vibrant shades as they grew older. Black was a colour reserved only for the very oldest of the community, only seen on citizens over the age of seventy. This tradition barely holds on, usually only applied for formal events or ceremonies. However, due to the hot climate and often blazing sun, light colours are favoured as everyday wear.

· During the warm months most wear clothes sewn from fabrics such as silk, Illiaweave and Ceouruwool , made from Ellaria’s natural resources. Other fabrics such as synthetic materials are primarily imported and are used, but not quite as common. The Eilerians take a sense of pride in what they create themselves.

· Illiaweave is a lightweight, breathable material that protects the skin from the sun and wicks away moisture really well, keeping the body cool without adding bulk and weight. It is made from the Illiagrass, a waist high plant that grows pretty much all over the planet naturally, but is also grown more controlled by farmers. It’s a strong and durable material, and is suitable for anyone from the noble classes to the working farmers due to its accessibility and the way it can easily be woven thicker for further durability, or so thinly and fine that it’s almost transparent and very delicate. Illiaweave is the most commonly used fabric overall on Eileria.

· Ceouruwool is a type of fabric made from the fleece of the Ceouru, a horned medium sized mammal who graze the pains and hills of Eileria. The fleece when cleaned, spun and woven creates a dense, warm cloth that repels water and wind very well. Much clothing used for the wet and windy winters of Eileria are made from this material.

· Jewellery is a common type of accessory. Earrings, bracelets, arm rings and anklets as well as various types of circlets, diadems and headdresses are popular among all classes and sexes. The intricacy of the craftsmanship and value of the materials is what sets them apart. Ribbons woven in spirals or nature inspired patterns and then braided into the hair is a much simpler alternative to an intricate gold chain set with precious stones.

· Most Eilerians own at least one brooch. It is a very iconic type of accessory for Eilerians, often given as gifts when a child is very young and over the years receives or collects chains, beads, stones or charms to attach to it. It is fairly rare to see an Eilerian wearing necklaces, but in contrast it is very common to see them with a brooch or even a pair that connects with one or more chains or a string of pearls or beads between them across the chest. Though usually decorative, sometimes these brooches serve the function of holding a scarf or a garment in place.

· The silhouette of the Eilerian fashion is generally defined by draped, gathered, tucked and pleated fabric. Loose robes, dresses, skirts and kaftans, trousers, shirts, jackets and coats often follow similar cuts. Scarves, shawls and wraps to protect the head and face from the sun, or hats and caps also add to the silhouette.

· Low contrast patterns woven into fabrics are common, as are edgings, trims, embroidery and other decorations, though the lower classes prefer plainer garments for everyday use. Most decorations are heavily inspired by the local flora and fauna, often depicting nature in its various forms. Many of the structures left by The Foregone are also decorated with spirals and wave-like patterns, something the Eilerians have adopted as well.

· There are no real rules for hair, but just prior to the clone wars shaved undercuts were fashionable. Cutting patterns into it and wearing the rest of your hair short or in an updo to display the undercut was popular. Trimming beards into elegant patters and donning braided hairdos was also very popular.

· Shoes vary greatly depending on the wearers work, geographical position, social status and the occation. Along the coasts simple sandals or flat shoes are comfortable for everyday wear. Towards the inland and the mountainous regions, boots or spats provide better protection against the elements. For a formal occasion sandals, flat, low or high-heeled shoes are all appropriate options.

· Prior to the Clone Wars Eileria were already harbouring a dislike for the hypocritical and corrupt senate. The people of Eileria value peace and diplomacy, honesty and generosity, and they saw only how the republic were carving out the resources of mid and Outer rim worlds to make the core prosper, all while doing nothing to aid those who suffered at the hands of ludicrous taxations, aid refuted or delayed because of vague or overly complicated policies, allowing criminal syndicates, piracy and raiding to roam the edges of the mid rim and the outer rim as they please.

· Months before the outbreak of the Clone Wars, Eileria had already joined the Confederacy of Independent systems. They did however remain opposed to the fighting throughout the war and promoted peaceful negotiations, provided humanitarian aid and took in refugees whenever possible.

· All children of Eileria are required to attend school between the age of 5 and 15. After that there are alternatives to enter higher education, apply for stipends to attend universities off world and the like. While the primary education is all paid for by the government, higher education only provided the education itself and some material for the students. Things like lodging and literature need to be paid for by the student. However, even if a citizen had no desire to approach higher education, they were free to attend the many talks, debates, lectures and smaller coursers often provided by the colleges, local libraries and seats of learning for free or a symbolic fee. These could range between a wide array of topics.

· Eileria is composed primarily of four classes: The nobility – The richest and most influential of the people. The highest members of this class are the rulers of Eileria. They are responsible for providing and protecting the means that makes it possible for the rest of the people to live comfortably and capable of following the values such as peace and education. They are responsible for ensuring the schools are properly maintained, its students fed. It is their job to make sure everyone has a home, that medical facilities are properly functional supplied and off-world trade is properly done. The middle class. The largest of the groups. These are the people living in the cities. Craftsmen, merchants, artisans, teachers, workers, all those who makes Eileria thrive.

· There exists a worldwide security force, compiled almost entirely of volunteers trained in hand-to-hand combat, marksmanship and piloting. A small number are located in each larger town and city, conducting both local peacekeeping, being ready for any approaching off-world threats and protect the members of the ruling council. However, they do no longer have an official military. The guard stationed inside the Mos Miara Palace building are known as ----

· General crime rate is very low. The most common major crime is the unlicensed farming, harvest, processing or selling of the Cetu Seaweed. Breaking the sacred rules of hospitality is also considered a major crime.

· Only a very small number of blasters are allowed on Eileria and anyone who wants to own one or to bring such a weapon onto the planet must be able to provide a weapons permit. If they don’t have one, they can apply for one at boarder control, but it’s a rather long and tedious process. If they do apply for a permit or can’t show one but still wishes to proceed, their weapon will be confiscated until they leave. Most weapons owned by civilians are stunners and all security force weapons are set to stun by default. Lethal blasters are not easy to come by, what you’ll usually find are either stunners or low-energy types that are usually owned by farmers inland or in the mountains to defend themselves or their cattle from the wildlife.

· Eileria has two spaceports; the larger and more modern port of Jiamel and the older, smaller one of Mos Miara. It is through the Jiamel spaceport that most of Eileria’s intergalactic trade is done.

· Eileria has a thriving agriculture. Vineyards, orchards and fields stretch from the dry, sun-drenched areas of the coasts to the slightly more temperate regions of the inland and mountains.

#;;headcanons #v;A lady of Eileria #;;Eileria

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skyysinger · 5 years ago

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If Sebha’to Were a Deity

DEITY OF: Life and death, health and sickness, change, cycling ASSOCIATED WITH: White Magic, darkness, ice, the Black Shroud, the full moon, duality, the transition between winter and spring, alpine forests, snow-capped mountains, self-improvement and change

SACRED PLANTS

White Lilies: Purity

White thorny roses: Silence or innocence, wistfulness, virtue, purity, secrecy, reverence and humility

Rue: Regret, sorrow, repentance

Stinging Nettle: Life and death, protection

SACRED STONES/GEMS

Rose quartz: Compassion, love, protection from anger or spite

Celestine: Balance, gentleness, contact with divinity

Red coral: Fertility, protection, spiritual awakening, self-awareness

Lapis Lazuli: Empowerment, speaking truths, clairvoyance

SACRED ANIMALS

Butterflies: Metamorphosis, rebirth, elevation above worldly matters

Hummingbirds: Independence, playfulness, joy

Robins: New beginnings, the coming of spring, self-sacrifice

Owls: Seeing past lies and illusions, wisdom, intuition

COLORS: White, red, silver, celeste FOOD: Chocolates, pastries, bread SCENTS: Spring flowers, forest air, petrichor, snow; rarely, the smell of bread baking

ACCEPTED OFFERINGS/WAYS TO HONOR: Sweets, candies, and pastries of all kinds. Soft fabrics and stuffed animals. Blooming white flowers. Rose thorns, covered in the offerer’s blood. Vials of the offerer’s tears. // Offering help to those in need. Accepting yourself for who you truly are and changing your appearance (whether via clothes and haircut or fully transitioning to another gender) to match. Caring for wilted and dying flora or fauna and nursing them back to health. Mercilessly extinguishing those who would prey on the weak. Telling only the truth, and never lying. Being completely true to yourself and your thoughts, feelings, and beliefs.

Prayers to this deity are at their most potent when spoken directly from the heart. His most beloved altars are decorated with his favorite items along with sweet fruity teas and small sugary cakes. Time of day does not affect how effective one’s prayers are, but a watchful eye will notice his presence in a faint aura in the crystals, blood, or tears offered to him.

‘ Treat your soul as your own garden; water, feed, and tend to it without fail. Know that without darkness nothing can be born, and without light nothing can flower. Sow seeds of change in yourself. With hard work and perseverance you too will blossom. ’

Sebha’to is most commonly known as a twofold deity of both life and death, health and sickness. Described as a Keeper of the Moon wearing traditional White Mage’s vestments, some of his followers believe he is one of the many Wildlings of the Shroud, claiming they have even seen him wandering under the boughs and watching over the guardian trees of his home. Very few of his followers have seen him up close; those that have claim that his head is crowned with shining woven silver, and his face is permanently streaked with tears.

Sebha’to freely offers his blessings to the conjurers of the Shroud as well as other healers and chirurgeons in their work to save lives. Those known as Hearers may even hear his whispers, but he dares not speak over the voices of the Elementals. Any who entreat him with prayers are enveloped in warmth, but warned that if they try to hide their heart from him, they will fail.

Those who would worship him only as a god of health and life suffer the folly of ignoring the entire truth of the world around them - life and death, darkness and light are two sides of the same coin; without one, the other cannot exist. Less commonly, he is entreated for guidance through times of turmoil and change. His reassurances during such are always the same: change is inevitable, part of every living thing in the realm. Petitioners, once accepting this, immediately feel an incredible sense of calm, and their most beneficial path is revealed to them even through the most turbulent periods of their lives.

‘ Only through being true to yourself and true to your heart will you find the correct path. Do not hide your feelings, in doing so you lie to yourself. That way lies sorrow, despair, suffering. Show the world who you truly are. If you believe you will have worth when blossoming, then you have worth as you are now - the sprouting seed. ’

Tagged by: Shamelessly stolen from @yshai-tia and @chanaihimaa

Tagging: Who has not done this? NO IDEA.

#about Sahji'to #deity character meme #I fucking LOVE TEMPERANCE ITS SUCH A NEAT SKILL #edit: added some symbolism that i just googled lmao

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trihearts-bull-corner · 5 years ago

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Prompt Challenge

So this is my writing prompt challenge. It is a very long list, and some of the quotes are very long. Every line is from my favorite author, Sherrilyn McQueen (previously known as Sherrilyn Kenyon). Quotes that inspire fluff, romance, and/or angst

[[MORE]]

You have the optimism of a child. (Julian) Peter Pan all the way. (Grace)

Life isn't finding shelter in the storm. It's about learning to dance in the rain.

But as the Roman playwright Terence once wrote, From many a bad beginning great friendships have formed

I don't suffer from my insanity -- I enjoy every minute of it.

I marvel at the fact you’ve lived to your age and no one’s taken those rose-colored glasses and shoved them up your ass.

Just because you can doesn't mean you should.

Oh contraire, mon frère. I’m able to annoy anyone in ten syllables or less. Sometimes, I don’t even have to speak at all. I just walk into the room and it rankles them.

It's easy to look at people and make quick judgments about them, their present and their past, but you'd be amazed at the pain and tears a single smile hides. What a person shows to the world is only one tiny facet of the iceberg hidden from sight. And more often then not, it's lined with cracks and scars that go all the way to the foundation of their soul.

You’re not done with me entirely, human. I’m the mother of his daughter. (CharacterA) You’re right. You are ____'s mother, poor her. But you’re wrong about one thing. (characterB) And that is? (CharacterA) I’m no longer human. I’m the Atlantie Kedemonia Theony – the guardian of the Atlantean gods. And right now there’s only one of them walking about and to save him from one more bad memory created by you, I’d bathe in your entrails, bitch. As for ___, she’s a big girl – I know, I used to live with her. She’ll survive the death of her mother. Trust me, I have firsthand experience with the subject. (characterB)

"How can anyone be afraid of love?" (CharacterA) "When you love someone... truly love them, friend or lover, you lay your heart open to them. You give them a part of yourself that you give to no one else, and you let them inside a part of you that only they can hurt—you literally hand them the razor with a map of where to cut deepest and most painfully on your heart and soul. And when they do strike, it's crippling—like having your heart carved out. It leaves you naked and exposed, wondering what you did to make them want to hurt you so badly when all you did was love them. What is so wrong with you that no one can keep faith with you? That no one can love you? To have it happen once is bad enough... but to have it repeated? Who in their right mind would not be terrified of that?" (characterB)

Aren't you an enigma wrapped in a thick coating of contradictions.

Sometimes things have to go wrong in order to go right.

Do you want my input or is this just an angry tirade you need to vent? (CharacterA) Both! (characterB) Okay, you rant and I’ll add my comments at the end. (CharacterA)

We have three kinds of family. Those we are born to, those who are born to us, and those we let into our hearts

I assure you, princess, if you saw the real me, you’d run for cover. (CharacterA) Only if I knew you’d be waiting under that cover for me. (characterB)

"Oh God, I just kissed a vampire!" "Oh Gods, I just kissed a human!"

I have a computer, a vibrator, and pizza delivery. Why should I leave the house?

Bitch please...you haven't seen mean yet.

"____! I won’t leave you here to die." (CharacterA) It’s okay, princess. I don’t mind dying for you. (characterB)

Life is a tapestry woven by the decisions we make.

If brute force doesn't work, you aren't using enough

You know the incredible thing about hearts is their unbelievable capacity for forgiveness. You’d be amazed what people will overlook when they love someone

my balls if you crawl inside a bottle and pickle yourself solid. I’ve got other things to think about now. But let me remind you of something a good friend once said to me when I was being eaten alive by feelings I didn’t understand. ‘Even when my marriage was bad, it was good.’ I had no real idea what you meant that night, but now I do and I’m grateful to the gods I can finally believe in that I took a chance on something that almost killed me. The life I have now…no, the woman I have now is worth every rotten moment of my worthless existence that led me to her door, and I would relive it all to have one kiss from her lips. You’re the one who told me that the right woman was a shelter from the storm

I wasn't born, I was unleashed.

She couldn’t very well let him join her in bed like that. Sure you could. No I can’t. Please? Hush, self, let me think.

We almost made it to thirty seconds without an insult. I think we set a new record

Get off me, you lard-ass, halitosis, flea-infested horror-movie reject!

I thought only a wooden stake through the heart killed a vampire. (CharacterA) A wooden stake through the heart will kill just about anything. And if it doesn't, run like hell (characterB)

You’re the only thing I’ve ever done right in my entire life and if anything ever happened to you, they’d have to dig two graves ‘cause I couldn’t live a single day without my baby beside me. (parent to child)

You know, I would date, if I could find a man worth shaving my legs for.

C'mon, Tabitha. You stabbed me the night we met without even blinking. (CharacterA) Yeah, but you were a dirtbag then. (characterB) I think I'm offended. (CharacterA)

I learned a long time ago not to judge people by what they look like, sound like, or by the clothes they wear. Just because a house is nice and shiny out front doesn’t mean it’s not rotting on the inside.

you're right ___. I am a selfish bastard. I had to be, because no one else gave a single shit about me except me

I have found my star. She is beauty and grace. Elegance and goodness. My laughter in winter. She is courageous and strong. Bold and tempting. Unlike any other in all the universe, and I cannot touch her. I dare not even try

I’m here because I know the sadness inside you. I know what it feels like to wake in the morning, lost and lonely and aching for someone to be there with me

What are you doing? (CharacterA) I'm getting into my car. (characterB) You own this?! (CharacterA) No. I'm stealing it with the key in my hand. (characterB)

So, does this make you visibly challenged? (CharacterA) No, but if you don’t lay off me, I’m going to make you breathing impaired. (characterB)

I'm the top of the food chain and well...you're the food

___ says that tragedy and adversity are the stones we sharpen our swords against ao that we can fight new battles.

Sure. My ego's had enough time to recover a modicum of dignity. Let's make sure we crush it again before I mistake myself for a god

Human will is the strongest will ever created. There are those who are born to succeed and those who are determined to succeed. The former fall into it, and the latter pursue it at all costs. They won’t be denied. Nothing daunts them.

You know when people say fine, it generally means ‘leave me the hell alone because I don’t want to talk about what’s really bothering me

Baby, I ain't trash. Trash is something you throw away. My people keep me.

We're not the damned, folks, we're the categorically fucked.

So is there any part of you that’s not a lethal weapon? (CharacterA) No. Even my wits are sharpened. (characterB)

The worst wounds, the deadliest of them, aren't the ones people see on the outside. They're the ones that make us bleed internally

The past is dead. Tomorrow will become whatever decision you make it.

Strength through adversity. The strongest steel is forged by the fires of hell. It is pounded and struck repeatedly before it’s plunged back into the molten fire. The fire gives it power and flexibility, and the blows give it strength. Those two things make the metal pliable and able to withstand every battle it’s called upon to fight.

Love is deceitful and sublime. In its truest form, it brings out the best in all beings. At its worse, It's a tool used to manipulate and ruin any one who is stupid enough to hold it. Don't be stupid

Forgiveness is the best part of valor...Discretion is easy. It's finding the courage to forgive yourself and others that is hard

Even if I were lying on the sun itself, I would be freezing there without you

I learned the bad guys are not always bad, the good guys are not always good, and to quote Captain Barbossa, the parameters are like rules, mostly guidelines. And that it takes a little bit of bad boy to fight the evil in the world.

Laugh it up, asshole. But she who laughs last laughs longest, and I intend to belly roll tonight

I think infatuation is like a garden. If tended and cared for, it grows into love. If neglected or abused it dies. The only way to have eternal love is to never let your heart forget what it's like to live without it.

What? It's not my fault I stab all the fanged people. They shouldn't look like vampires. (CharacterA) I didn't look like a vampire, but you stabbed me. (characterB) Yeah, well, you looked like a lawyer so I had to kill you. It was a moral imperative. (CharacterA)

Where are you anyway? (CharacterA) I don't know. I hear some godawful kind of music from outside, horns blaring, and I'm in a house with a Mohawk cuckoo bird, a transvestite, and a knife-wielding lunatic. (characterB) Why are you at ____'s? (CharacterA)

You’re selfish and you’re cold, and I’m tired of getting frostbite when I touch you

He who lets fear rule him, has fear for a master

Be kind to dragons, for thou art crunchy when toasted and taste good with ketchup

If you have any care for ____ at all, don't leave him in darkness. It's not fair to show someone the sun and then to banish him from it. Even the devil may cry when he looks around hell and realizes that he's there alone

Have you ever wanted something that you knew was bad for you? Something that you ached for so much you could think of nothing else?

Gee, thanks Dad. I promise to be a good boy and play nice with the other kids.(CharacterA) Smart ass. (characterB) Better than a dumb ass.(CharacterA)

I'm too young, too smart and too good-looking to die.

You're so afraid of being hurt that you attack first. Only those who really care about you will weather the assault of your verbal attacks and stay. The rest will fall away.

Laugh as much as you breathe and love as long as you live

The most beautiful heart of all is the one that can still love even while it bleeds, and especially after its been broken into thousands of pieces.

Just how many sisters do you have? (CharacterA) Eight. (characterB) Eight? (CharacterA) What? (characterB) I'm just pitying whatever poor males lived in that house with all of you. It must have been truly frightening at least one week out of every month. (CharacterA) Was that a joke? (characterB) Merely a frightening statement of fact. (CharacterA)

There, there, baby. We'll hide her body in the trunk later.

Sorrow spares no one, and scars respect no person.

Yeah, it never fails to amaze me how a single lie can undo an entire lifetime of good

Is he a good boy? (CharacterA) No, Mom, he’s Satan incarnate. In fact, once it’s over, we’re going to get liquored up and tattooed, then find some cheap hos and have a good time with his trust fund. (characterB)

Oh no, no, no! Are you going to suck my blood? (CharacterA) Do I look like a lawyer to you? (characterB)

Hey, yummy leather guy? Can you hear me?

Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss other people. Life's too short to worry about what other people do or don't do. Tend your own backyard, not theirs, because yours is the one you have to live in

It would have really cramped my future plans had I died.

No power from above can make one human love another. Love comes from within the heart.

There are always three sides to every memory…yours, theirs, and the truth, which lies somewhere in between the two

You don’t knock on the devil’s door, boy, unless you want him to answer.

Take care of him, ____. And remember it takes great courage and heart for a man who knows no kindness to show it to another. Even the wildest of beasts can be tamed by a patient and gentle hand.

To infinity then. (CharacterA) What’s that mean? (characterB) It’s something my dad used to say when I was a kid. To infinity, meaning you’d see something through to the end. (CharacterA) Infinity is never-ending. (CharacterB) That’s right, which means you keep going and going no matter what happens or what obstacles you meet. Over, under, around or through. There’s always a way. And if you have to chase something to infinity, strap on your big-boy pants, hiking boots, and go. (CharacterA)

Whoa, what is this? Battle of the Sarcastic and Pissed? Should I make popcorn? Forget American Idol, man. This is much more entertaining

Life is serious. (CharacterA) No, life is an adventure. It's thrilling and scary. Sometimes it's even a bit boring, but it should never be serious. (characterB)

You can take my life, but you'll never break me. So bring me your worst… And I will definitely give you mine.

Just remember, anger is always your enemy. You must keep your emotions in check. The moment you lose control of them, you lose the fight every time.

It’s a responsibility that I take most seriously, so excuse me for banning you from killing them because you have reverse PMS. (CharacterA) Reverse PMS? (characterB) Yeah, unlike a normal woman, you’re cranky twenty-eight days out of the month. (CharacterA)

You are the only warmth in my heart. The only sunshine my winter has ever known

I wonder why no one called the police about the rocket launcher? God knows my neighbors usually report it if I so much as fart in my backyard.

I am a socially awkward mandork.

What else can I do to piss you off? (CharacterA) You can leave me. (characterB) I would never do that, ____. No one can live without their heart and that’s what you are to me. (CharacterA)

What planet are you from? Obviously Planet Insanity was missing a local, long-term resident.'

Actions that sometimes seem mean aren’t. Rather they are done by the ones we love in order to protect us without our knowing it.

Knock, knock. (CharacterA) Now, ain't this a bitch. Here I am, trying to kiss my girl, and you have to interrupt us. What, were you raised in a barn? By the way, touch the woman, or the Lamborghini, and you're a dead man. (characterB)

The wealth of a soul is measured by how much it can feel... its poverty by how little

You’re human. No one cares if you sleep with a whore. (CharacterA) (characterB did something she’d never in her life done before. She slapped another person.) You ever insult ____ again and so help me, I’ll do to you what you allowed your brother to do to him. I’ll cut your tongue out for it. ____ is the man I love and no one, ever, takes issue with him without having issues with me. (characterB)

Your destiny is shaped by choice, never by chance. Beware the decisions you make, no matter how small, for they will be your salvation...or your death.

Wake up, ____. Your psychotic criminal is playing with knives.

I accept you as you are, and I will always hold you close in my heart. I will walk beside you forever

Words are easy to say, but emotions betray the best intentions.

Because I have no boobs. My ears stand out, and I have freckles all over me. (CharacterA) Boobs? (characterB) Breasts. (CharacterA) You have very nice breasts. (CharacterB) Thanks. What about you? (CharacterA) I have no breasts. (characterB)

I love you, I love you, I love you! And if you ever die on me again, I'll kill you so dead!

I'm old enough to make you look like an embryo.

How did you get me here? (CharacterA)I have my evil Jedi ways. The Force is strong with this one. (characterB)

Have you ever noticed that salvation, much like your car keys, is usually found where and when you least expect it?

The man may not be dead, but he was certainly stiff. And this had nothing to do with rigor mortis

He was like some wild, untamed creature that you could keep and feed for a time, but in the end you knew you'd have to let it go for its own sake as well as yours

I will fear no evil for I am the baddest bitch in the land

Ironically no one ever wants to hear what I have to say about anything. They usually argue with me to the point I want to put them through a wall. Hopefully you won’t be so dense

So you're the infamous ____. (CharacterA) Lord and Master of the great barbarian horde that roams the night. (characterB)

No one should have to pay for love in flesh or blood.

Should I ask about the handcuffs? (CharacterA) Not unless you want to live...otherwise if anyone asks, tell them I died of a heart attack during a wild sexcapade with her. (characterB)

A flower can't grow without rain. (CharacterA) Too much rain and it drowns. (characterB) And yet the most beautiful of the lotus flowers are the ones that grow in the deepest mud. (CharacterA)

I’ve spent my entire life listening to people tell me why I can’t be loved and how I’m nothing but a worthless piece of shit. I always told myself that I didn’t care, that I didn’t need anyone else. It was a lie, you know. I do care and I want ____. If it costs me my life to be with her, it doesn’t matter. I’ve already lived past my prime, anyway. I get up every morning with more pain in my joints than the day before. If I have to die, I’d rather die knowing someone cared about me, just once. Is that really too much to ask? (CharacterA) For us? Yes. It is. We are the gutter and the gutter is all we’ll ever be. Don’t reach out for the stars. They’ll burn you until there’s nothing left. (characterB) Then let me burn. (CharacterA)

Should I warm the oven and bake you a batch of hero cookies?

I don’t even know what to say to you. (CharacterA) Me, either. I guess we’ll just stand here and cry at each other, huh? (characterB)

Everyone cries sometimes, ____. There are some pains that run too deep for even the strongest to take without breaking. I don’t think any less of you for it.

Please nothing, she’s a vicious piranha. She looks all cute and cuddly, then she opens that mouth and lets loose so much venom she could double as a nest of scorpions

Don't worry, ___. I'm an acquired taste. Most of my best friends had to know me for years before they could even stand my presence. I'm like mold, I usually grow on you very slowly

You know, I've walked this earth for over eleven thousand years, my lady. I have seen things in my life that are unimaginable to you, and you ask me if I doubt you? Lady, I doubt the very air you breathe

(CharacterA) "You are naked."......"You are so naked" (characterB) - "I know" (CharacterA) "You are naked!" (characterB) "We've established that." (CharacterA) "You're happy and naked." (characterB)"What?

Please don’t let it be another cop. I’m outta bail money. Wait a minute…I could sell you on eBay and make a killing. (CharacterA) Not in my current condition. You’d have to sell ___ or ____. I’m sure there’s someone willing to buy two perfectly good white boys. (characterB)

Hey!" (CharacterA) snapped as he realized (CharacterB) was about to lock him on the outside with their attackers. He pushed the door open and glared at him. "No man left behind." (characterB) scoffed. "This aint' the army, boy. It's every man for himself. Fall behind. Get eaten!"

I marvel at the fact you’ve lived to your age and no one’s taken those rose-colored glasses and shoved them up your ass.

Because I don’t feel broken when you look at me. (CharacterA) How could you feel broken? (characterB) I was shattered as a child and thrown away, like a piece of trash no on wanted. But you don’t treat me like that. You see in me the human bit and you touch that part of me. You make me feel whole and wanted. (CharacterA)

Fate is a bitch with a wicked since of humor and today I'm her punchline

If you're going to hell buddy, I'm driving the bus

I'd rather be judged by twelve than carried by six

If I am to be judged it will be for who I am. Not for who I'm trying to become

I will count the heartbeats until I see you again

It's official take a psycho to work day. Why else would I be here?

The bitterest pain of all is when you can only hold someone in your heart who you used to hold in your arms

Pain baptizes us all without prejudice or mercy

Whatever doesn't kill me better run like hell

True love will always find it's way through paths where even feral lorinas fear to prey

So goes my incentive to fight fairly. You want fair, play with kids. You wanna come at me, make out a will.

People who don't know me, think I'm quiet. People who do, wish I was.

Shall I show you to the door... Or would you rather go out through the wall?

Before you rattle my cage, you'd best make sure I'm padlocked in it

There are two ways out of this room. The window behind you and the door behind me..... You might survive the window.

Everyday do one thing that scares you. Or one thing that scares other people

The truth spills as quickly from furious lips as a lie. The trick is to learn which is meant to wound and which is meant to enlighten.

We all have out burdens... Just some of us have the ones that strike to kill us vindictively

If you want to see exactly how angry someone can get, tell them to calm down when they're already pissed off!

Don't be afraid to love. Yes its a weakness, but it's a source of greatest strength you'll ever know.

Because you are taking the most important parts of me with you, ___..... My heart and my soul. You are not just my wife. You are what sustains me.

Talk is cheap. Pain is free and I'm peddling the shit out of it. So you come and get some.

Why be difficult when with a little bit of effort you can be impossible

The lies we tell ourselves to survive seldom bring peace to our hearts

Destruction is good for my soul, but it sucks to be you

Family isn't perfect, just perfectly ours

#writing prompt #long prompts #boom quotes #sherrilyn Kenyon #the dark-hunters #the league #its a challenge

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