#shes a little mountain goat

[pseudonemisis]

go into the woods and take your shoes off to feel the soft moss. Play in the water and try to find all the different sounds that you can make with a reed. Climb big rocks and balance on a fallen tree. Listen to a brook and bird sing together while your dog splashes in the water.

[thermodynamic-comedian]

i am like one encouraging reply away from writing a crackfic where all the avatars go to a karaoke bar and each eyevatar gives a shockingly different yet cunt-serving performance.

[ferberus-skull]

Look hard at my stripes. There'll be no more after me.

[cyberdragoninfinity]

I will do what you ask me to do Because of how I feel about you

[ctrl-lupin]

Yes, I would be very interested hearing your head canon (@tim-ribbert-56) (in response to this post)

I have decided for my personal entertainment that Clarisse de Cagliostro is related to Lupin III, and here's why.

-pulls out Arsène Lupin's Wikipedia page-

In the novel La Comtesse de Cagliostro, a young Arsène Lupin (at the time going by the name Raoul d'Andrésy) was courting Clarisse d'Etigues, a young lady of a well-to-do family, and trying to win her hand, despite her father's disapproval.

Throughout the course of the novel, Lupin meets and falls in love with Joséphine Balsamo, aka the Countess of Cagliostro, and abandons Clarisse in favour of her. To clarify, Joséphine is not actually countess of anything, she is (or claims to be) a descendant of Giuseppe Balsamo aka the Count of Cagliostro (who was also count of jack shit), a famous conman from the 18th century.

Shenanigans ensue, which I will not go into in details on, but oh my god I am insane about Raoul and Joséphine, I want to dissect them and study them under a microscope. It turns out Joséphine aka Cagliostro is evil as fuck, Raoul/Lupin realizes that and goes back to Clarisse (whom he had previously abandoned like an old sock, I fucking hate this guy), marries her, and a few years later has her kid.

Unfortunately Clarisse dies in childbirth, and Joséphine, who was still around and very very pissed at Lupin (and jealous as hell of Clarisse whom, may I mention, had never personally antagonized her in any way whatsoever, Joséphine is just fucking bonkers). Joséphine also kidnaps Lupin and Clarisse's son, Jean, and raises him as her own son. (I have not yet read the following novel The revenge of Cagliostro so I don't really know what Jean's deal is, I just know he's an antagonist).

The following is my headcanon, based on these events. In the universe of Lupin III, Joséphine Balsamo was actually countess of the small kingdom of Cagliostro (maybe Giuseppe was count, maybe he conned his way into becoming count, maybe he bought the land and built a fake kingdom with a fake history, who knows).

After the events of The revenge of Cagliostro, Jean settles down in the country of Cagliostro, gets married, has a child, and that child will later have a daughter of their own, who they name Clarisse, after their late grandmother. Clarisse de Cagliostro, of Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro fame, would thus be the great-grand-daughter of Arsène Lupin, making her Lupin III's cousin/niece/whatever you call this specific degree of separation.

I am choosing to make Clarisse de Cagliostro a great-granddaughter of Arsène Lupin, rather than a granddaughter, because Arsène Lupin was very young when the events I described unfolded: he is 20 years old when he meets Clarisse d'Etigues and the whole Cagliostro debacle happens, and 25 by the time Jean is born. I'm assuming he had Lupin II much later in his life. So Jean and Lupin II (half-brothers) would have a significant difference in age, and so Jean's hypothetical child (grandchild of Arsène Lupin, so of the same generation of Lupin III) would be much older than Lupin III. Clarisse de Cagliostro is younger than him, maybe around the same age if you stretch it, so she's have to be a great-grandchild.

Now I need to read The revenge of Cagliostro and study Arsène Lupin's wikipedia page in more detail to determine when exactly Lupin II was born and who his mother was. And also where Albert's family branched out, because the fact that he's called D'Andrésy should theoretically place him as a descendant of Arsène Lupin's mother but not of Arsène Lupin himself; but Jean was also going by that last name, so who fucking knows.

No I am not insane I promise, I am just a gigantic nerd.

[manykey]

strelitzia still uses starlight as her keyblade! but unlike her time in leopardus, by the time sora arrives in quadratum she’s upgraded it to its third form. there is (obviously) shit to fight in afterlife shibuya/shinjuku, so she’s had a lot more practice and is noticeably (at least to herself) improved in both the magical and physical aspects of combat. 

[sanguinewolves]

holy shit just realized its only like 2 weeks until i go to my first concert?

[keenbugg]

Spotify wrapped before everyone starts getting sick of them :)

[hedgehog-moss]

I had a friend over this week and even though the weather wasn't ideal, we decided we were going to go for a long walk in the surrounding woods with all three llamas. Since Pampelune is the uncontested chief, you just need to halter her and her herd follows wherever she goes. Sometimes we emerged from the woods into a pasture and Pampérigouste started galloping like mad (followed by her daughter & her abandonment issues), but then Pampy would object with some firm hums and the other two returned, chastened.

We'd brought a head of cabbage and we gave her a few leaves every time she successfully used her matriarch authority to re-gather our little group around her, even though she'd do it for free, because it's so nice to be able to go on walks with only one haltered llama and watch the younger ones frolic and explore the world as we go. Pampy seemed happy to walk with us at a steadier pace and to trade freedom for cabbage.

We'd initially planned to stay on my side of the torrent, but after meandering downhill for a long time we unexpectedly found an old bridge I didn't know existed, and it looked very inviting, so we crossed. (Ominous chords.) Then we enthusiastically went up hoping we'd see my house from the opposite hill—and we did, here it is :)

And then we went back into the woods, and got lost. Of course. I really think my friend carries some sort of curse because I don't usually get lost in nature but the last time we went on a great hike we also found ourselves completely disoriented in a featureless snowy plain, trying to glimpse the sun behind clouds and debating whether finding the North would help us in any way.

This time we were quicker to admit we were lost, and I said we could either go uphill, and we'd find the road eventually and the nearest milestone would tell us where we are (or we'd reach a farm on the plateau), or go downhill, and we'd find the stream eventually and cross it and then we'd be in a part of the woods I'd recognise. Probably.

Drawback of going uphill: it's technically the wrong direction, so the way home will be that much longer (and night falls at 5pm)

Drawback of going downhill: we'll have to cross the water at some point. Without a bridge. It would take a miracle to find that bridge again, supposing it was a real bridge and not a fae illusion to lead us astray.

After debating for a bit we decided to go downhill, because we were hopeful that we'd find a shallow spot to cross the stream, and also we feared that at nightfall the llamas might just lie down and decide to spend the night right here, in the woods. It's hard to make a llama get up again once she's decided that enough things happened for today.

The question of whether the llamas would accept to cross a mountain stream with us was left undebated—though we did regret having spent our cabbage too lavishly and too soon.

But we followed a rivulet downhill and Pampe crossed it repeatedly, with merry and graceful mountain goat jumps, which made us feel comforted in our decision.

Then we got to a point where the water became visible, and very noisy, and Pampelune started to feel suspicious. She made worried hums and walked more reluctantly and (having squandered our cabbage) we had to cajole her into compliance.

I love that my friend captured the moment when I crouched down and started straight-up lying to my llama.

Poldine was the last one to realise something was afoot, because she is young and trusting.

Once she did, she also became a bit reluctant (she wanted to go uphill again), and more than once my friend had to open her cloak-like coat in order to look like a bat and persuade Poldine that nothing good was happening in that direction.

We found a spot where the water was pretty shallow and decided to cross. The air temperature was maybe 1°c and the water felt like it was minus twelve so my friend wasn't exactly happy about the series of decisions that had led us to this point. I pointed out that last time in that snowy plain there was this piercing relentless evil wind howling in our ears and making unsettling voice-like sounds when it blew through holes in fences (to help her relativise) and she was like, when did this day go from singing walking songs and watching Pampe gambol in pastures to "at least this time we aren't being driven mad by ghostly wind."

I told her that things that go wrong become the most vivid and fun memories in the long term and we debated this postulate for a bit and I felt like I had successfully distracted her from our plight, until she put her foot in the water and said she wished she were in the metro in Paris right now. In Châtelet even. I said "but in two days you'll be in the Paris metro wishing you were here trying to cross a cold mountain stream with three appalled llamas!" and she said yes. Still, the situation is dire when a Parisian says she would rather be in Châtelet.

Pampe actually followed us quite quickly! I'm pointing this out because I'm always talking about how contrary Pampérigouste is, but she was so great about crossing the stream, even humming to her daughter as if to encourage her. I suppose she was telling Poldine that when they make their final escape and become wild llamas they'll probably have to cross mountain streams now and then.

Poldine panicked a bit once everyone was on the other side of the water except her, and although I'd already wrung out my socks I was psychologically preparing myself to cross the ice-cold water again and go get her—but after walking up and down the other bank desperately looking for an invisible bridge, she resentfully crossed.

Then we went uphill again and eventually found our way to my neighbour's pasture! I immediately recognised the old tree in the middle and I was very happy to see it. My friend was holding Pampy and I had climbed ahead to act as a scout, and I cried out to share my discovery feeling like Vasco de Gama. It was snowing just a tiny bit, and getting darker, and I think everyone (including Pirlouit, languishing alone in his pasture) had started to privately wonder if we were going to spend the night in the woods.

One interesting activity we did when we went home was testing the various objects that live on or near my fireplace to see which ones are heavy and stable enough to hang very wet socks. We tried the wistful wooden shepherd, the porcelain fox, the music box shaped like a pile of books, the vase, and found that the only reliable spots in my living-room to dry your socks are under Sherlock Holmes and under Marie-Antoinette so we agreed on a fair sock-drying rotation. The living-room smelled of wet wool (or wet llama) all evening, but we had a glass of champagne to celebrate the fact that we weren't currently trying to fight hypothermia by curling up between two llamas in some frosty meadow, and we felt pleased with our adventure, all things considered.

We realised a bit late that we had been in such a hurry to go home and warm up we'd neglected to reward our hiking companions, so we very bravely put on new socks and went out in the night to look for the llamas with our phone lights and distribute some muesli. Pirlouit was included in the distribution because he definitely would have crossed the stream with us had he been invited (and told his hay was on the other side.) Also we got a kiss from Poldine so I think she replayed the day's events in her head and came to the conclusion that her mother was, somehow, as always, to blame for all this.

[thelostgirl21]

AND NOW HE'S THE FAMILY GOAT!!!

The capricorns

I found this interviews [x] and I couldn't help but make a stupid parallel 😅

[lord-radish]

Okay, I'm bored at home so I'm gonna write out the hypothetical and extremely miserable Mountain Goats jukebox musical I had kicking around my head at work.

Act 1: Coming Up Through the Cracks

Song for my Stepfather

From TG&Y

Broom People

Weekend in Western Illinois

The Recognition Scene

Act 2: We Loved Those Dogs

Moon Over Goldsboro

Standard Bitter Love Song #1

Alpha Omega

Alpha Desperation March

Distant Stations

Act 3: Folgers Crystals and Hard-Boiled Eggs

In the Hidden Places

Nova Scotia

Song for Dennis Brown

Pale Green Things

Against Pollution

In Corolla

[incorrectbatfam]

Do the batfamily members ever get too into their undercover work? (Undercover in an office and theyre worried about spreadsheets, working in a warehouse and coming home complaining about missing parts)

Bruce: Status updates on your undercover missions. Dick, you first. What have you got down at the docks?

Dick: I haven't confirmed the Killer Croc sightings yet, but more importantly, our catch hasn't been measuring up to last year's. Tuna we're doing okay on, but the salmon population seems to be on the low end. I've contacted the Department of Wildlife and Fisheries but it'll be another 3-5 business days before they can come down and check it out.

Bruce: At least you're doing something to help. Jason?

Jason: Class was okay. I think the kids are warming up to me as their substitute while Mrs. Maloney is out on maternity leave. The average on the last vocabulary quiz was 83.53% so either I'm doing my job right or they need to be challenged. I'm worried about Tristan Lancy, though. He's normally a good student but his grades have been dropping recently and his parents don't seem like safe people to tell. I'll talk to him tomorrow and try to pair him up with a peer tutor if he needs it.

Bruce: Also see if he has any alternate contacts besides his parents. Tim, any updates at the chemical plant?

Tim: If by updates you mean OSHA violations, I could go on all week. We got a batch of new recruits today and they were just thrown into the work—no PPE, no safety training, nothing. This is what happens when you place production over employee well-being. I'm gonna file a complaint after this meeting. Also, I think the union will have something to say about the manager cutting people's lunch breaks short.

Bruce: I see. Damian? Please tell me you found something volunteering at the zoo.

Damian: Depends on how you define "found." While I have not obtained evidence of a mutant larvae black market, I did help some of the animals at the sanctuary make progress with their recovery. Bobo the monkey is healing from his broken arms and we're gradually getting him re-acclimated to climbing higher surfaces. Suzie the black bear was born a little prematurely but seems to be catching up to her peers in terms of growth. Lastly, we got a grant for additional wildcat research and enrichment. As an aside, we are having an educational seminar on European mountain goats this Friday at 3:30 and I expect all of you to be there.

Bruce: I'll put that on our calendars. Steph?

Steph: It's not really undercover work for me, just work. Anyway, yes the newest Batburger location is being used for money laundering. But I really need to vent about the customers for a sec. We don't open until 10 and at 9:30 this morning some moron was banging on our door demanding Jokerized cheese fries. Then right in the middle of the lunch rush, Janie got sick so I had to fill in as the cashier and it was hell. After that, I had to step in between a fight at the drive-thru because the customer claimed we only gave him nine pieces of his ten-piece Robin nuggets and tried to beat up the kid who took his order. And to top it all off, an entire high school hockey team came in five minutes before closing.

Bruce: Cass?

Cass, blowing balloons: Can't talk. Arranging bat mitzvah.

Bruce: Duke, you're my last hope.

Duke: Margie's bringing a peanut butter chocolate cake to the bake sale. I swiped her recipe and we can easily beat her. Her ganache is way too watery and just runs off the top of the cake, which isn't even leveled. She's also trying to do something with a raspberry filling that isn't working at all. It's like she couldn't decide on what to bring. The bake sale committee also asked if we can bring some apple pies because the original baker has to go out of town for a family emergency. I think we'll win if we bring them with some ice cream and a touch of caramel, even though this isn't a contest.

Bruce: Thank you. At least our most critical case has been taken care of.

Barbara: ...I'll save my book launch for later.

[lilaccatholic]

Katniss post-Mockingjay grips onto anything living with both hands. She cultivates a garden sprawled across several of the Victors' Village yards so that she and her loved ones never have to go hungry again full of herbs, greens, vegetables, and all sorts of flowers for Peeta.

(Not roses. Never roses. The primroses are the only roses allowed. She spots some, once, and uproots them to give to some transplant from another district. Even these plants she cannot kill.)

In the sterile, sparse courtyard of the Village, she plants an orchard of fruit and nut trees. Peeta jokes that it is her second forest. She responds by shooting a rabbit for dinner from their bedroom window.

(Hunting is different. It is a necessary kind of killing in the aftermath of a war that leaves resources sparse during rebuilding. Katniss is a good hunter. She knows that if she is responsible, there will be enough game to continue on through the years. She tries not to think about how the Capitol treated the districts the same way.)

She gets two chickens. Then, a few more. Soon, a tiny army follows her whenever she enters the yard. They love Peeta especially, thanks to the baking scraps he slips them when he thinks Katniss isn't looking. Haymitch guffaws from his porch, watching Katniss with her parade of teeny chicks peeping after her.

(He shuts up a little after she gives him his first few geese.)

Gradually, some goats, a cow or two, and a handful of sheep join the menagerie. Peeta comes home with a fragile little puppy he finds going through the bakery's garbage for scraps that Katniss refuses to love until she's sure he will live, nursing the puppy to health all the same. Turns out, he's excellent at herding and protecting the animals, and that ugly little mutt becomes the most fierce protector of his pack.

(The goats are the hardest of all to agree to adopt. Every time she looks at them, she sees Prim's goat with its blue ribbon. The first bite of goat cheese makes her choke.)

And then, when one day, she looks around her, and she finds a thriving, noisy, life-giving patch of Eden where the Capitol's perfectly manicured, ornamental, plastic hell once stood, and she breathes in the clean mountain air and digs her hands into rich, good earth, she thinks about Peeta. She thinks about how he makes bread like the loaves he threw her, but now the dried fruits and nuts come from trees and plants she grows. She thinks about how they got tipsy on dandelion wine on their most recent anniversary, and neither of them thought about mutts, or Snow, or Prim that day. She thinks about every good thing she's ever seen and how she sees more and more every year, and she thinks about how maybe, maybe now it's safe enough to bring another kind of new life into the world.

(And maybe she names her first baby girl Eden. Maybe with that baby, the world starts anew.)

[emotional-fox]

therian playlists ♬

now playing: fox

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

dirty paws, of monsters and men

fox on the run, sweet

soldier, poet, king, the oh hellos

like the dawn, the oh hellos

crystals, of monsters and men

furr, blitzen trapper

country roads, john denver

rhiannon, fleetwood mac

bare trees, fleetwood mac

back in my body, maggie rogers

i of the storm, of monsters and men

the warming moon, rogue valley

☆

now playing: wolf

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

running with the wolves, aurora

wolves without teeth, of monsters and men

furr, blitzen trapper

she-wolf, shakira

dirty paws, of monsters and men

wild mountain honey, steve miller band

eyes wide open, gotye

brother wolf, sister moon, the cult

landslide, fleetwood mac

the chain, fleetwood mac

wolves, bon iver

alaska, maggie rogers

☆

now playing: rabbit

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

roger rabbit, sleeping with sirens

rabbit hole, aviva

peach, the front bottoms

prey, the neighborhood

pumped up kicks, foster the people

bunny, bunny, bunny, the golden orchestra

rabbit heart (raise it up), florence and the machine

it will come back, hozier

sunlight, hozier

your rabbit feet, wild nothing

you fill up my senses, john denver

like the dawn, the oh hellos

☆

now playing: lion

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

king and lionheart, of monsters and men

truth to power, onerepublic

little lion man, mumford and sons

fearless, night watch

and i miss you, sade

love song for a prairie fire, jayber crow

lion’s teeth, the mountain goats

onions, the mountain goats

a pillow of wings, pink floyd

i know the end, phoebe bridgers

this river is wild, the killers

lioness, songs: ohia

☆

now playing: hawk

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

the eagle and the hawk, john denver

talons, bloc party

birds of the high arctic, david gray

seven nation army, the white stripes

fly with me, the jonas brothers

hunter, galantis

never coming home (song for the guilty), in live the dream

halcyon, the paper kites

featherstone, the paper kites

birds, imagine dragons

heft, japanese breakfast

plum, troye sivan

☆

now playing: squirrel

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

no roots, alice merton

prey, the neighborhood

dirt, bryan lanning

rivers and roads, the head and the heart

old pine, ben howard

ends of the earth, lord huron

woodland, the paper kites

savior complex, phoebe bridgers

melancholyism, super whatvr

red squirrel, stackridge

sofia, clairo

furr, blitzen trapper

little acorns, the white stripes

[lastofthemadones]

Long Live Evil has me by the throat and I made a Key playlist

(I don't have a spotify account so it's on Youtube Music don't hate me) find it here

Take Me to Church - Hozier

Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies, I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

2. I Love You Like an Alcoholic - The Taxpayers

One last kiss, I love you like an alcoholic, One last kiss, I love you like a statuette, One last kiss, I need you like I need a broken leg

3. Oceanographer's Choice - The Mountain Goats

Look at that, Would you look at that, We're throwing off sparks, What will I do when I don't have you, To hold onto in the dark?

4. Howl - Florence + The Machine

The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound, I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallowed ground, And howl, Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers, Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters

5. From Eden - Hozier

Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago, Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword, Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know, I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

6. Bad Things - Jace Everett

I don't know what you've done to me, But I know this much is true, I wanna do bad things with you

7. It Will Come Back - Hozier

Don't let me in with no intention to keep me, Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me, Honey, don't feed me, I will come back, It can't be unlearned, I've known the warmth of your doorways, Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you

8. Pumped Up Kicks - Foster The People

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, You better run, better run outrun my gun

9. Hurt - Johnny Cash

Everyone I know goes away, In the end, And you could have it all, My empire of dirt, I will let you down, I will make you hurt

10. We Will Commit Wolf Murder - of Montreal

Something's terrorized my psyche to get even, Lately, you're the only human I believe in

11. Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part To Save The Scene And Stop Going To Shows) - Fall Out Boy

I used to obsess over living, Now I only obsess over you

12. Fever - Magpie Cinema Club

Romeo loved Juliet, Juliet she felt the same, but when she put her arms around him, He said, "Julie baby you're to blame, Thou giveth fever"

13. Seven Devils - Florence + The Machine

See, I was dead when I woke up this morning, I'll be dead before the day is done, Before the day is done, And now all your love will be exorcised, And we will find you saying it's to be better now

14. Dust Bowl Dance - Mumford & Sons

There will come a time I will look in your eye, You will pray to the God that you always denied, Then I'll go out back, and I'll get my gun, I'll say, "You haven't met me, I am the only son"

15. Monster - Ron Pope

Make me a monster, Make me a beast, Prey on my weakness, Become my disease, I've been lovesick and empty, Cold and I'm trembling

16. Dirty Little Animals - Bones UK

It makes your blood run hot, It makes your spit taste sweet, It makes you feel more alive, Than you have ever been

[wizardjail]

In the spring, Chrysothemis begs Iphigenia to braid wildflowers into her hair. They gather a basket of anemones, white and gold and blood-red, from the meadow west of the palace. The greatest prize, though, is the blue bellflower that sprouts in clumps along the faces of Mycenae’s cliffs, like a boy’s first patchy beard. Iphigenia scales the wall of the citadel while Chrysothemis waits below, fretting over the height and the slick stones; but Iphigenia is sure-footed as a mountain goat, and knows that Artemis Acraea will not let her fall. She returns to her sister with a triumphant grin and a fistful of blue flowers.

They sit beside the window as Iphigenia works Chrysothemis’ hair. Her sister’s curls are chestnut brown, lighter than Iphigenia’s own, like those of their uncle Menelaus. She weaves in the flowers as she goes—garnets and sapphires to set in the crown of braids. Electra, four years old this past winter, hasn’t the patience for Iphigenia’s ministrations. She plucks the petals from her anemones, and soon she’s tugged her nurse away to the courtyard to watch the guards in their shining armor pass by.

“On the day I am married,” says Chrysothemis wistfully, “I’ll wear roses in my hair, and violets. Will you weave them in for me then?”

“Of course I will,” Iphigenia tells her. “Roses and violets, and lilies for Hera, and carnations like we wear to the Thesmophoria.”

Chrysothemis hums, leans against Iphigenia’s side. “You will be there, won't you? For my wedding day?” The question is tiny and plaintive. Chrysothemis is the gentlest of Agamemnon’s daughters, keen to be liked and afraid to be left behind.

“Of course,” Iphigenia says again, seriously, because her sisters are prone to fits of temper if they feel they’re being patronized.

“You won’t love Thrasymedes’ sisters better than me?”

“What?” asks Iphigenia.

“Thrasymedes,” Chrysothemis wails, looking up with wet eyes. “He’s to marry soon—Nestor sent a messenger. I heard Father speaking of it to Mother this morning. I don’t want him to take you away to Pylos, Iphigenia.”

They say Pylos is a place of sandy shore and western wind, a city perched upon the sea. Nestor of Gerenia rules there, surrounded by a sizable brood, among whom Thrasymedes is the eldest son. Are there forests in Pylos? Iphigenia wonders, gazing out at the groves of pine, cypress, and yew that spring from Mycenae’s rugged hills. Or is it all sea and sky? Would she spend all her days at her window, a caged gull watching over the harbor?

“Don’t cry,” Iphigenia says. “I won’t marry Thrasymedes.”

Chrysothemis sniffs, blinking away the threatening tears, grasping again for the veil of composure she’s lately learning to wear. “Maybe not Thrasymedes, but you must marry somebody. And then you’ll leave me, just as Mother did our aunt Helen.”

She speaks true, of course. Little Orestes has hardly begun walking, but someday he will sit on the throne of Mycenae; his sisters, in turn, will sail to allied lands and wed their kings. Iphigenia is just shy of fifteen. Fifteen, the age that Helen was when princes from every corner of Achaea came to fight for her hand. Old enough to be a bride, certainly.

She knows the old noblemen of the city mutter their disapproval when her father is out of earshot: of her flyaway hair and rumpled skirts, her tendency to steal away to the woods, the willfulness for which her Lacedaemonian mother must be blamed. (This last, most of all, leaves her burning with indignation.) King Agamemnon has indulged her far too long, they say, but he will see sense. If not queen of Pylos, she’ll be queen of Crete or Salamis or Thebes, the nuts and amaranth flowers she lays at the altar of Artemis replaced with honey cakes for cow-eyed Hera.

Will the queen of beasts still speak to her after she crosses the threshold of her husband’s house?

“I won’t,” she says to Chrysothemis. “My bridegroom will be a bear, you see.”

A little laugh slips from Chrysothemis’ throat—slightly wet still, but a laugh nonetheless. Iphigenia continues. “A great king of the wood and mountain, crowned with laurels, who wanders the forest carrying me on his back. We’ll feast on hare and pheasant and berries, and every summer, I’ll bring you baskets of fresh figs.”

She lets herself believe it for a moment, that she could be a woman with windswept hair and skirts hitched to her knees, darting among the trees like the nymphs loved by far-shooting Artemis; that like Persephone, she could return at the dawn of each spring to hold her mother in her arms; that her father, who looks so fondly on his wild-eyed firstborn, might let her remain a part of his house until the day she dies. It is a lovely dream.

“Not figs,” says Chrysothemis, finally. Her head drops against Iphigenia’s shoulder, and one of the flowers in her hair smears a saffron streak of pollen across Iphigenia’s cheek. “You must bring me bellflowers. No one gathers them as well as you.”