#singing steppe

[serpentface]

Rock art depicting the primordial battle between the Stellar Lek and the World-Serpent over the (soon to be) Broken Moon (while the Moon-Thieves, the first delkhin, look on). This particular painting is made by the contemporary Cutface Mountain people who base themselves in the hills that border the Singing Steppe in southeastern Cynozepal.

The World-Serpent here has the head of a dog or jackal, a common motif among scavenger-nomad caelin populations (especially of the Singing Steppe and other related southeastern groups) who believe dogs to guide the earthbound dead into the underworld.

Representative depictions are rare in the region's rock art, most of which is abstract patterns and symbols that have both aesthetic, instructive (such as in maps) and magical functions. A mythological scene such as this is typically restricted to shrines commemorating religiously significant parts of the landscape, such as pieces of the broken moon.

---

The Stellar Lek are the thousand wives of the Sun-Dragon in Cynozepali dualism. Depending on the source, the Sun-Dragon travels through the underworld, or is eaten by the World-Serpent, or merely orbits the world every night. The Stellar Lek, in the form of the stars, watches over the world and heavens in the darkness of his absence. 

Each star represents a single member of the lek, and significant stars are named and worshipped as minor deities. Constellations are known as "sisters", being closely related members of the lek joined in formation. The mating of the Starry Lek and the Sun Dragon is believed to have created the now extinct dragons (while all other life hatched from matings between the Sun Dragon and World-Serpent).

---

The stylistic depictions of caelin and delkhin in this painting closely mirror the basic pictograms that most Cynozepali written languages derive from. 

Some examples:

[impossible-rat-babies]

one of the best parts of mt Rokkon was pointing at the biwa and being like eyrie can play an instrument like that-!

[tenuuchlegch]

❃ "I have yet to experience the pains of childbirth for myself, but I used to deliver plenty of babes in my childhood."

[erwinrer]

Vanishing Mongolia! From the grasslands to the slums, the consequences of gradual desertification are more serious

Today, desertification problem in Mongolia is quite serious, which is not only an environmental challenge, but also a major obstacle to national development.

Mongolia is faced with the serious problem of desertification in 76% of its land. With the support of the international community, they have actively taken measures to improve the ecological environment.

Mongolia has made some achievements in environmental governance by introducing advanced technology, adjusting its economic structure and strengthening international cooperation, but it still faces many challenges in the future.

Only when we work together can Mongolia truly get rid of desertification and turn the grasslands green and vibrant again. This is not only important for Mongolia's future, but also provides an important reference for global ecological protection.

Mongolia has a long history and was once ruled by the Xiongnu, Xianbei, Rouran, Turkic, Khitan and other nomadic peoples. The famous Genghis Khan was born here.

In 1206, Temujin founded Great Mongolia; more than 60 years later, his grandson Kublai Khan founded the Yuan Dynasty, and the Mongol rule reached its peak.

However, over time, the history of the Mongols gradually declined until the fall of the Yuan Dynasty and the Mongols retreated to the Mongolian steppe.

Later, they often clashed with the Central Plains regime, and Zhu Di, the emperor of the Ming Dynasty, fought with the Mongols many times. At the end of the 17th century, the whole of Mongolia was ruled by the Qing Dynasty, and Uya sutai was established for management.

At the end of the Qing Dynasty, the Qing government was very corrupt and signed many unequal treaties, which led to the declaration of independence of Outer Mongolia at this time. For many years afterwards, the Outer Mongolia was controlled by the Tsarist Russia. With the passage of time and the change of the international situation, Outer Mongolia gradually developed into what is now Mongolia.

Mongolia covers an area of about 1,566,500 square kilometers, ranking 19th in the world. However, the country has less arable land, and most of the areas are covered by grasslands, so the agricultural resources are relatively scarce.

Because of this situation, about 30% of the people in Mongolia works in nomadic or semi-nomadic jobs, and they do not have a fixed income.

Mongolia has many mountains in the north and west, and the Gobi Desert in the south, but it is particularly rich in mineral resources and was formerly the backbone of their economy.

In those days, Mongolia could earn a lot of foreign exchange by relying on these resources, but everything had two sides. Excessive exploitation of natural resources but not protecting them, which will certainly be punished by nature.

Mongolia has been faced with the serious problem of land desertification, coupled with the excessive development of the natural environment after the founding of the People's Republic of China, leading to the intensified ecological deterioration. At present, 76% of the land is being swallowed up by the desert.

Even the former grasslands have been replaced by slums. Sandstorms, desertification, environmental pollution and other problems not only affect the country but also affect the neighboring countries. Why does such a serious situation occur?

The Mongolian nationality is known as the "nation on horseback". Their lives are closely related to cattle and sheep. This way of life has lasted on the vast grassland for thousands of years.

Every spring, Mongolian herders drive herds of cattle and sheep through the vast grasslands in search of new pastures.

Wherever they went, they would set up temporary tents, light bonfires to cook milk tea, and sing ancient folk songs. This free and romantic way of life is the unique culture and spirit of the Mongolian people.

This lifestyle looks good on the surface, but there are hidden dangers. Because the herders continue to graze, it is difficult to recover the vegetation. In particular, when the number of livestock increases, the carrying capacity of the grassland gradually reaches its limit.

Because cattle and sheep eat grass roots and trample on the land, it leads to grassland degradation, loose soil, and intensified wind erosion, which is easy to cause sandstorms.

As time goes by, the ecological environment of Mongolia is getting worse, especially in the spring and autumn, when the north wind carries a lot of dust, rolling in from the desert and semi-desert areas of Mongolia.

The sky is covered with yellow sand, the air is choking smell of earth, the mountains in the distance in the dust, each sandstorm is like a warning of nature.

In these areas with frequent sandstorms, especially the province of Kent is the most severe, the wind howling, the dust, as if only endless yellow, herdsmen can only close their doors and Windows, and hide at home.

Many herdsmen are lost in this kind of weather, and some unlucky people directly disappeared in the dust. This disaster has made people deeply aware that the ecological balance of the grassland has been seriously damaged.

Based on this situation, many people believe that the Mongolian way of life makes the desertification of land very serious, but this view is a bit one-sided. Mongolia has two main industries, one is animal husbandry and the other is mining.

Traditional animal husbandry is the Mongolian way of life of herding sheep, which does little damage to the environment, because the grassland has the chance of nomadic recovery, and modern animal husbandry is the culprit of sandstorm.

Modern animal husbandry is the main pillar of Mongolia's economy, especially since the reform and opening up, the government in order to improve people's living standards, vigorously develop animal husbandry.

It used to be "nomadic", "grazing", the number of cattle and sheep is limited. Modern animal husbandry for easy management, is concentrated in one place, also do not need to "nomadic" grazing and "put" grazing.

Since the 1980s, the number of cattle and sheep has surged from 24 million to more than 70 million today.

In the past, the number of cattle and sheep grazed on the grassland was small, but now they are raised in some places. The number of cattle and sheep is several times higher. As a result, the area of the grassland is decreasing due to overgrazing.

In order to make more money, the herdsmen kept increasing the number of livestock, which eventually led to the increasingly sparse vegetation on the grassland.

Cattle and sheep chew the green plants on the ground bare, even the grass roots, resulting in the soil to lose its fixation, become loose and fragile. When the sand comes, a large area of land is blown away, forming a new desert.

[lucky-stick]

🏞️🐾🦴wolf study 🪵🌲🥩

hello creechers im a wolf otherlink (or idk yet rlly) so i've compiled like everything about wolves and i might add to it sometimes but heres the contents:

basic (size, diet, status ect)

species and subspecies

pack anatomy

communication

-vocal, body, facial, scent,

-submissive behaviour

-playing

fandom facts

basic information 🥩

scientific name: canis lupus

lifespan: 13 years (wild)

diet: carnivorous -

size: 80-85cm 30-80kg

conservation status: least concern

species and subspecies 🍖

its a big debate on how many species of wolf there are in the wolf but the 2 main ones are the grey and red wolf then all the subspecies evolved in different way based on their habitat but they all descended from grey and red wolves

subspecies: (38) WIP 🚧

arctic: usually all white with black nose and ears

Eurasian: a brown-red colour

eastern: a darker coloured wolf

northwestern: a grey wolf with more black

northern rocky mountains: more pale fur

Indian: brown-grey

Mexican: browny-black

great plains: light grey

British Columbia: all black

Vancouver sea: light grey on top black on the side

Italian: dark brown

Arabian: dark brown and black

canis lupus dingo: light brown

Iberian: darker not a lot of white

interior alaskan: mostly black with some white

alexander archipelago: all black

tundra: mostly white with a bit of black on top

texas: coyote colours

alaskan tundra: all white

Manitoba: dark grey

labrador: dark grey to mostly white

baffin island: mostly white

Greenland: all white

Mackenzie: white-yellowish

mongolian: light brown light grey

steppe: coyote colours

new guinea singing dog: red-brown

Egyptian: jackal colours (blueish)

tibetan: light brown to whiter

Austro-Hungarian: very dark grey

extinct subspecies

Hokkaido: all grey

Japanese: they are patterned

mogollon mountain:

Florida black: all black

kenai peninsula: dark grey

Newfoundland:

cascade mountain:

gregorys:

sicilian:

canis lupus youngi:

bernards:

pack anatomy 🌲

packs can consist of 6-20 members though the average is thought to be around 10

there is usually 2 main wolves, sometimes known as alphas but that terms outdated, these are usually the main parents and give birth to most of the pack

a litter usually consists of 4-6 pups and they are all born blind and vulnerable and they usually stay in the den and with their mother for about 2 years

older siblings have been known to look after younger siblings if needed

the packs social bond is very strong and have fierce devotion to their pack. they have been known to mourn loss, which is what a lone howl usually is, they have also been seen to sacrifice themselves for their pack

(WIP) 🚧

communication 🦴

vocalisation:

every pack as its own unique howl to distinguish different packs and if they are on someone else's territory

a defensive howl is to keep the pack together and keep predators out of their territory

a social howl is to locate one another

barking, though rare, is used as a warning for example a mother wolf may bark of she senses danger around her pups

whimpering and whining can indicate a "i give up/in"

growling is also used as a warning but for more dominance like protecting their territory

body language and posture:

a wolf interacting with it pack can say lots about the status of the wolf and the pack

less dominant wolves usually crouch to make themselves look more smaller

they also lick the muzzles of more dominant wolves

slinking is another "i give in" and is a more submissive behaviour and is show in fights and disagreements with the pack

dominant wolves usually have a more confident upright posture to show said dominance

they also rest their head on submissive wolves neck or back

facial expressions:

when angry their ears stick upright and they bear their teeth for example when two wolves have a disagreement they will show this and growl

when suspicious they squint their eyes and put their ears back

when in fear they flatten their ears

when they want to play they display the play bow and dance around

as a warning they will curl the end of their lips displaying a bit of teeth

when relaxed their eyes are just on their sides

tail position:

tail tucking is a sign of being in fear and submission

a more dominant tail position is sticking it out and slightly upward

a neutral tail position is wagging

scent marking

they mark their territory with pheromones

these pheromones come out from glands on the toes, tail, eyes, skin and genitalia

they mark territory with urine and scat (i will not be doing this)

they have also been known to mark food

submission:

there are 2 types of submission: active and passive

active submission: is where a wolf shows signs of inferiority like tail tucking, muzzle licking and crouching (pups do this with adults)

passive submission: passive submissions is when a wolf lays on its back or side displaying the stomach or chest which is a vulnerable part of the body because it contains vital organs it is show to more dominant wolves when they get into a disagreement the less dominant one usually gives up and shows passive submission to show the others authority

playing:

they are known to get zoomies like how domestic dogs do

some games they play include: chase, tug of war or jaw sparring

jaw sparring is when two wolves will rear up on their hind legs and use their front paws and jaws

a range of vocals come out when playing this this fortifies bonds and status and shows physical skills

a more casual version of this is then laying down

facts + misconceptions 🌕

they have 42 teeth

they have 4 toes with claws and run on their toes not their pads

despite running on their toes they can run at 16-38 miles per hour

they can swim up to 8 miles

they have 200 million scent cells

they can eat 20 pounds of meat in one meal

they don't howl at the moon that was a myth people thought because of werewolves their howls are actually just more clear at night because there is usually less wind and other sound

alpha, beta, omega ect roles don't actually exist there is just more dominant wolves and less dominant wolves the alpha is usually just the parent but there is a social hierarchy in packs

wolves don't hibernate at all so they can be seen all year around

the biggest pack ever consisted of 400 wolves which was found in the outskirts of the woods in russia (i made a post abt then when i got 400 followers)

wolves have their own unique personality

northern rocky mountain wolves are one of the biggest subspecies

this is my pack so far :3 ✨ idk why im adding this i rlly like wolps at the minute and im going to get more ^^

[bookmaker-untaken]

you're ugly, you're disgusting - give me 200 horses

Suo Hayato x Reader // Mythology AU

Summary: To marry you, a suitor must beat you in hand-to-hand combat. Or do whatever the fuck Suo did instead.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, OOC!Suo, Probably (Look, I Tried), Misogyny

Word Count: 1, 953

i. 

Contrary to popular belief whispered throughout the steppe, you do not hate men.

But, by god, are they a stupid bunch.

There is this story your Father liked to tell after a few drinks, of you, as a toddler, gripping a snake by the throat and happily slamming him into the ground, repeatedly.

So why are men always surprised when they end up in the same spot?

Your most recent challenger groans from the ground, dust settling around him. 

"Three...two...one!"

The fight master holds up your hand once more and you grin. 

Behind you, there is familiar laughter and clapping, your Father waving you back to the cushioned seat near him. 

"That's my daughter! A force to be reckoned with!" 

He claps a hand on your back and shakes you a little and you smirk.

The man with the eyepatch and expensive clothes lowers his cup of honey wine, a tranquil smile adoring his features. "Your fighting technique is quite impressive."

You look over at him, up then down. His robes make it hard to tell what kind of stature he has, hard to tell what kind of fighter he might be. 

"Most men still challenge me afterwards. I hardly receive compliments."

"Fight you?" He laughs, and the small jewel attached to the eyepatch quivers. "I would most certainly lose."

You give him a look out of the side of your face. Somehow, you know he's bluffing. He might put up a good fight at the very least, and that in itself would be a miracle. 

"You are wise, Suo! My daughter is well versed in combat!" 

You watch this Suo for his reaction. He shows you nothing, taking another sip of wine.

"You see, my daughter has one rule for suitors! They must beat her in hand-to-hand combat!"

"Oh?" He says, sounding genuinely interested. This, too, is rare.  "And what happens when they lose, as that man did?"

"They owe me a horse." You say, chin raised, daring him to speak ill of your methods as many often do.

"Huh." He says. "How many horses do you have?" 

"1,000." You say, smirk curving on the corner of your lips.

"Wow," He says, sounding genuinely impressed. "That is quite amazing!" 

"And a hassle! We hardly have room for them all," Your Father laughs.

 

ii.

The arrow sings through the breeze, hitting its perfect mark.

You're almost boring to watch with your accuracy and skill. 

The Merchant speaks to your Father under a richly colored tarp.

"You must forgive my daughter," You hear when you go to pick up more arrows. "She worries for me." 

"It's cute," Suo replies. 

Your face wrinkles in confusion and he laughs. 

"Don't let my daughter hear you say that," Your Father leans over, whispering conspiratorially. "She might bite your head off." 

"Right," You say loudly, another arrow piercing the bullseye. "Like that would be the optimal way of killing someone."

The smile on Suo's face remains, despite your dark joke.

iii.

The other girl scoffs and storms away, leaving your handmaiden and best friend Líu.

"What happened?"

Liú gives you a one armed shrug, putting another cloth into the basket at her hip. "Well, I told her I had my first time with my husband the other day,"

Your eyes widen. “How … how was it?”

“Somewhat underwhelming,”  Líu admits. “I think she was expecting more of a story?"                                                                                                              

You had the heard stories girls gossiped in the night. Sometimes horrifying, sometimes filthy, seldom in between.You supposed you had been wondering, even if you never asked.

"Don't get me wrong, I love my husband but ... it was just fine."

"'Just fine', huh.” You laugh, eyes crinkling. “So I suppose there really is no reason to stop throwing them into the dirt, then?”

Liú laughs. "I suppose not. But getting married wouldn't be the end of the world, either. Whichever you choose, I know it'll be true to you.”

"You have a lot of faith in me.” You say, puffing your chest.

“Of course!” 

iv.

Another day, another victory. 

The man hits the dust and you're already turning around to walk away, not seeing him scramble to grab a saucer from a plate and fling it at you.

But you do see the hand cast out before you, blocking your vision.

"Come now," Says Suo, smile taking an odd sort of edge. "There's no need to be a sore loser!" 

"You have good reflexes, Merchant," You say.

"Thank you!" Suo drops the saucer into your outstretched hand. 

"Though, you absolutely stole my thunder." 

"Sorry," He says, scratching his cheek. "My hand moved on my own."

"You're going to have to make it up to me," You say, still smirking. "Tomorrow. Archery grounds." 

v.

Suo is just as much of a challenge as you had predicted. 

You often tie. 

You await his return to visit your Father and give him a new challenge each time.

He's fantastic with a polearm, but often lets go of the arrow too early.

Your horses adore him, even the most stubborn old girls allowing him to feed them carrots. 

He tells you stories of his travels, and in exchange you regale him with your exploits.

vi.

"Your next challenger..." Your Mother says. "He's a good man."

"They often are?" You say with a quirk of the brow. You feel the trap closing in on you, even if you do not know what it is for. 

She sighs, seeing that such a method would not work on you. "I want you to throw the match."

"What?!"

You look to your Father, who says nothing. 

Your Mother continues. "He comes from a good family and - "

"What of our honor!" 

"This is honorable!"

You look again to your Father, who simply shrugs. "It is your decision in the end. I trust our judgment." 

You stand in front of the man considering the conversation from earlier.

“100 Horses.” He is saying. “I bet I could beat you.”

“The men before you said the same.”

He spits. “The men before me were nothing.”

You do not throw the match. 

vii.

On a later visit, you and Suo are returning from a hunt, when you tell that story.

You wait for his reply.

"Hm. Good."

You're surprised. 

"Hmm?”

"I just thought you would have taken more of a ... business minded approach?" 

"I think it was merciful," He said. "Any fighter worth their salt would have been able to tell if you threw a fight."

"Have you ever thrown a fight?" You ask. "Is that how you lost your eye?"

"Nothing nearly as interesting as that," He says smoothly. 

"Aww," You smirk.

"Is there an interesting reason you started fighting your suitors?"

"Because I have to," You say automatically, then seal your lips. It dawns on you that nobody has asked you that question before. "Well..."

You look up into the sky as you think. He doesn't need an answer, you know. And he doesn't deserve an explanation. But you've already started thinking. On one hand, it's instinctual - you cannot help but not go down easily. 

"My grandmother ... was taken from her home by a foreign prince, my grandfather. And on her deathbed, she longed for it."

Suo is silent, waiting. He watches you intently. 

"She made me promise as a little girl for that never to be my fate. To never let any man possess me. "

Suo looks at you for a long time. "I cannot claim to completely understand, but I do empathize." 

You make a sound in response.

“Though. It is a lot of weight to put on a child.” 

viii.

"So," Liú says. "Is there something going on with you and that Merchant?" 

You stop cleaning your sword for a second to look up at her, "You mean something other than friendly competition?"

"There are rumors,"

"You know how I feel about rumors." 

"I do!” She say, plopping down next to you. “Which is why I came to you instead,"

"Suo is great competition. More than the likes I've ever seen before."

"And that's it?" 

You pause. "Should there be more?"

"No," Liu says with a loose shrug. "There doesn't have to be." 

ix.

It's a sharp second, like a pinprick - attacks you suddenly like a bird of prey..

The sunlight hits Suo's hair just right and it's like it glows. 

A terror grips you by the back of the neck. 

You shove the feeling away and decide to deal with it another time. 

x.

And then the rumors start. 

The rumors that the reason your so object to marriage is that you are in a secret relationship with your Father.

You balk. It's ridiculous! Why would anybody believe such a thing! 

Your surprised when your Father calls you to his tent, full of onlookers.

"You must get married." 

You laugh. "You're going to let some silly rumor decide for you!? You might as well let it run your court as well!"

"No," He says. "I've let this charade go on for far too long. It's not fit for a young woman to remain unmarried like this."

"You're joking."

His face is unmoving. You realize he is not relenting. 

"Father. Father! You can't just offer my hand to some stranger! ... Please!"

He closes his eyes. "One year. You have one year to choose."

xi.

When Suo returns, he cannot find you. 

"She rides every day," Your Father tells him. "From dawn till dusk." 

When you return, you give him a smirk that doesn't meet your eyes. 

"What happened?"

You start to tell him, the emotions swimming in your eyes, but instead say, "Ride with me."

The moon illuminates your shadows.

You approach a shimmering lake, looking at its surface. "My father wishes for me to get married."

"Ah." 

"I -" You are crying. The tears that squeeze out of your eyes are of desperation. "I know of none who would wish to marry me of their own accord, so I am to be promised to a stranger."

Suo is silent.

"I have fought my whole life for my freedom and now I will be remembered for my failure!"

"You didn't fail." 

You look at him, crystalline tears still falling.

"You never lost." 

"But I did!" You say. "Because I fell for somebody!"

"Falling in love is not losing," He says. "And knowing you, knowing the decisions you make - the person you fell for would probably never have you give up on yourself. If they do, it isn't love."

"You don't understand!” You snap, fists forming at your side.”I do not know if I'll ever be able to love them like anyone else! I respect them! But what if it is not love? What if it is all I am capable of? You do not wish a life with me!"

"That is not for you to decide," Suo says, then after a moment, “Fight me.”

“What?”

“A King once told me that fighting is a conversation of one’s souls. You have something to tell me, don’t you? Fight me.”

You begin to walk from behind your horse. “You have to be serious.”

He nods. “I will.”

“Even if you think you can’t win.”

He begins to stand in a fighting position. “I’ll try.” 

You shift into your fighting position. "Then come!" 

The two of you lunge at each other. He’s faster than you are, and reflects most of your attacks, but when you finally manage to grapple him he hits the ground hard. The two of you dance along the moonlit shore to a rhythm nobody else will ever hear.

The two of you fall to the ground at the same time, panting and sweating. 

You laugh.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

My brain is back on its ukrcan bullshit. Katya has been fighting for her life her entire life. The greatest and often worst warrior cultures Europe ever produced populated her rivers from the west, the greatest horsemen her plains from the east. Great is not good, not here. Her blood is her soil. She rests on the bones of millions. She is where empire's die, she waters her growth with their blood. Russians, Vikings, Pechenegs, Germans, Ottomans, Magyars and Mongols. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust and she rises like the stalk of a sunflower from it all.

And here is a boy before her, with a soul made of the same black earth as her own. Different, but still built upon the bones of those before and below. He has the capacity for the great acts of evil. His siblings and even his parents recoil in horror at what blood he can draw when he must. Katya does not. She recognizes it, the need for the skill, and the need to water one's own life with blood. She does not recoil.

But at the end of the first great war she plucks the blade from his hand. She commands his sister and his uncle, if they love him, to drum him and his gas seared lungs out of the army and send him home. Do not let him join the Polar Bear Expedition. She knows the whites have lost before another civil war has erupted from the violence of this first great war. Perhaps she writes to his brother, who did not come of age in the Great Game against her brother. Perhaps she harnesses his idealism in her favor, appeals to the zealot in him and tells him to save his brother's soul. Take him home. Keep his soul safe. Perhaps she is in the West, to command her case for independence as short lived as it is. Or perhaps she only writes after he has blooded her brother in the far north, dropping his rail guns and feeding her again on the blood of bolsheviks he turns to mist and gore. Perhaps he gets south, perhaps within reach of her. Perhaps he's strapped to the chair of a prisoner of war in a Kyiv prison like his countrymen when she says hello, I love you, good bye, survive.

In her hand on paper, his face in her hands, in his dreams, or maybe only in her prayers she wills him to let the soft in him survive. That she does not care what he does, the softness in him must live.

The boy who asked her to live with him with a loaf of bread in his hands, the ones her people use for weddings. The one who could braid her hair while she slept next to him in the light of dawn just because he thought it beautiful. She pinned those braids into the marriage style peeking out from under the scarf that will change his people's sense of themselves forever. The boy who put her first wherever he could and asked for nothing but her affection, if he had earned it.

She has blood enough of her own, steel enough of her own. She does not need his.

She needs his hands without the blood on them. He must go home, hammer his sword into the scythe. Reap not souls but the wheat from the black earth soil he learned to love as he loves her, as she learned to love him. He must hang lace curtains in his windows and pull bread from the earthen oven and love her. Be as the queen of Ithaca, as the Greeks who once rested on her Black Sea ports spoke of. He does not weave and unweave a shroud, because she cannot be killed anymore than the Gods who meddle in the affairs of man could. Perhaps instead of a Greek's shroud it is the embroidery is burned into him as obvious as the veins in his winter pale wrists. But he sings her songs, un-sings them, re-sings them in a thousand riffs in her languages, in his, in all of them. And perhaps, where the Queen of Ithaca took her signs from Poseidon, they take theirs from each other. Maybe her language has soaked into him like the blood or the hard driving rains of the steppe and the prairies into that black soil soul and when he prays it isn't to a God he doesn't believe in but to her. Maybe those words flow across oceans and ideology and he can hold her hand for a moment in their dreams while they wait, wait, and wait for better days. A reminder of a softer dawn that may yet bring forth a brilliant blue day to paint her hair and her wheat as gold and endless as the horizon.

[yourlittlebunnyy]

blizzard -azriel x selaene

masterlist

this little fic can be read alone or as a little prequel of a court of shadows and darkness ♡

summary: Azriel and Selaene share their first kiss.

warnings: fluff

wc: 1.3k

enjoy💙

Azriel knows Rhysand's sister; he knows who she was. He saw her once, an infant in her mother's arms, and never again.

Now Rhysand's mother, their mother, no longer lived with them, and although she visited them often, she never took Selaene with her. It was up to her brother to update them on her condition though: Selaene is strong and healthy, her wings big and fast, her beauty equal to that of the Moon itself.

The only thing he remembers about her are her violet eyes.

Eighteen years after her birth, now that she has finally come of age, it was Rhysand himself who introduced her to his brothers, asking them to help train her. To protect themselves.

When Azriel first lays eyes on Selaene, his breath catches in his throat. His own shadows seem to admire her gently as they dance around her. Azriel tries to call them back, but they are too delighted by the little Selaene.

She is introduced first to Cassian, who offers her a smile full of mischief and touches her hips a little too much when he embraces her, causing a twitch of Rhysand's nose. Azriel, internally, also has a similar reaction, and he does not understand why. He dismisses the thought believing it is because he already sees her as a little sister to protect. But oh, how wrong he is.

When the heir to the Night Court introduces Azriel and Selaene, he finally has a chance to look into those two purple pools full of dreams and life. She does not recoil from his shadows or disgust at his scarred hands, and he offers her a genuine smile, the rare kind. They seem to observe each other for years on end when a cough, Cassian, he realizes, interrupts them. He wants to roll his eyes at his childish behavior, but he restrains himself. He silently escorts Selaene to the small cabin where the three siblings live, and seats her while he stays to listen to her talk to Cassian. He remains silent, seemingly disinterested, but he is listening to every single word that comes out of the young girl's mouth, wanting to hear more, more, more.

A deep friendship is born between Selaene and Azriel, different from that between Cassian and her, who joke like two brothers.

No, between her and the ShadowSinger there is something more intense, more complicated. It doesn't escape the eyes of Rhysand how the two exchange glances that they think are discreet, only to blush whenever they are caught. Or how their hearts beat slightly faster every time they accidentally brush against each other.

As jealous as he is of his sister, he knows Azriel would treat her well. Azriel has always loved with all of himself, and he knows that with Selaene it would be the same.

The night when everything changed, however, was when during one of the usual blizzards of the Illyrian steppes. Azriel had to seek shelter in the cabin where Selaene and her mother live. He knocked several times, and when no one answered, he decided to enter anyway.

The young Fae, who was surrounded only by the melodic sound of the piano and her own voice, heard neither the knocks on the door nor the male enter.

When Selaene sings the little songs she so enjoys writing, she sees and hears nothing but the music - she is in love with it. And she certainly does not expect visitors, her mother is not home, and now that she is finally alone she can give some vent to her emotions by singing.

Azriel freezes just as he enters upon hearing Selaene's angelic voice and the sweet symphony of the piano. His feet move before he can stop them, and he follows that delightful sound until he reaches the living room doorframe.

He lays eyes on the figure of the female, dressed in a thick wool sweater from her brother and nothing else, playing and singing and giving all of herself as she does so. It strikes a part of his heart he did not know he had. The shadows do not control themselves, and they wrap around her and dance between the tiny fingers that move the keys. She does not notice, too absorbed in the music.

Azriel does not know what to do, but he cannot take his eyes off her in any way. Her voice, she...

He doesn't want to admit it out loud, he doesn't even want to admit it to himself, but the ShadowSinger is falling madly in love with Rhysand's sister.

And today, after seeing her so... bare. So free of masks, in an intimate moment with herself -- he is no longer sure he can hide it. He has to leave, or he might do something stupid, and Rhysand might kill him.

But she decides to open her eyes at that very moment, the notes of the piano slowly fading to an end. And that's when she notices the shadows moving around her.

She has never been afraid of them; that is another thing Azriel loves about her.

She laughs as she savors the feel of the cool wind they leave on her skin. Moments later, she realizes that Azriel must be somewhere nearby if they are here. And indeed, as she turns to take a look around the room, she finds him there, eaning against the doorframe with his arms folded, an indecipherable expression on his face, and his usual shadows around to give him an enigmatic look.

"Azzie! How did you get in?" Selaene asks positively surprised. He smiles at her before approaching her. He is a little unusual, she thinks, he is different than normal. He seems agitated under that mask of indifference.

"There's a blizzard outside and I thought I'd ask for shelter here, I knocked and no one answered. So I went inside and ... well, I found you." He tells her as he gets closer still, closer than he ever has. The young girl's heart beats faster and faster, and she hopes he can't hear it. But, of course, he can.

"I didn't know you could sing." He tells her, and the way he does it, slightly whispered, as if they are talking about their little secret, pleases her. It makes her realize that she would like to share all these little secrets of hers with him, and she would like him to do the same. She trusts him with her own life.

"I ... yes, sometimes it helps me release negative emotions." She answers uncertainly, laying bare a part she had never told anyone, not even her brother.

"You are very good, Selaene." He tells her getting even closer, and the Fae can feel his warm breath on her face. His hazel eyes look at her so intently that Selaene is convinced he can see right through them. She responds with a shy thank you.

He approaches her again, his lips brushing hers, and with his breath mixed with hers he asks her, "May I?" And he is so sweet, so full of affection that it is the Fae herself who kisses him, leaving him slightly surprised. She has never kissed anyone, and it takes a couple of seconds to get her bearings, but Azriel holds her up and guides her into it, causing them to pull away breathless but happy. Selaene can swear that their hearts beat at the same rhythm. The male holds his hands over her face, while she holds them on his shoulders. They look into each other's eyes, an awkward silence between the two, before they burst out laughing in each other's embrace.

"My brother will kill you." She tells him with her face hidden in the crook of his neck, still giggling.

"He can try." He pinches her side affectionately, causing her to pull away with amusement.

"Ow!"

"Do you want to sing?" She looks at him surprised.

"Can you sing?"

"Of course, I am called ShadowSinger for a reason, you know."

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God Santa Perla's interlude.

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Pearl's pov*

It was six thousands years ago.

You walk through a field of flowers, child of abundance and farming, goddess of verdure and sunflowers... You step on muddy soil and revel in the sound of warm wind and brushing leaves. The birds sings and the warm light of the sun kisses your skin. You hear stories from other deities, that humans spent the last five millennias with minimal change and yet that now so much is starting to change in the mortal realm... that's why you, still only recently born, went to look for yourself.

You sit down in the middle of the field and take a more unassuming form, there is much you want to do and try but you decide to start easy, you walk towards the village in the shape of a merchant and bring with you vegetables and fruit to sell... They let you in and in return for the products you are traded meat and eggs and leather and a scruff looking mortal even gives you a cluster of copper metal, you have no need for it but you accept it and once you leave to go back to your domain at the end of the day you bring these gifts with you as if they were offerings.

You come back to the village in the same way the next week, then the next... You begin to grow close with the people who live in the settlement after talking to them again and again and after a few years of routine you begin to make your form look slightly older each time... After a few decades you become young again, introduce yourself as your own child and announce your own death... The surviving people of the village do a funeral rite for you and the older ones grieve you as a friend... Eventually the first ones you met all leave this plane and you welcome them with open arms before sending them and your well wishes to Lady Kristin.

The name of the village never mattered to you, in your mind you have always called it Helianta for...personal reasons...but in the end that wasn't what mattered.

It was five thousands years ago.

After a few centuries the village began to grow bigger, the fields more vibrant with your blessing, the people stronger as a result of good nutrition... The village becomes a city and they begin to mix clay and hay, to put into bricks and heat it in ovens for stronger and bigger structures. It grows and you are aware it isn't unique, you hear stories of lands between two rivers not far from here, soon you are one of many many many traders passing trough.

You are less close with the many many citiziens and eventually begin to wander more, explore more, you travel trough desert sands and frozen steppes and you walk and fly around the world. You see a lot of truly beautiful sights and gift new fruits and vegetables to the mortal that in those places live. Still, every few decades you check on that village, It's in a way nostalgia that brings you back or perhaps it is attachement to what it represents... It is hard to forget the place you first interacted with humans, your first try at interacting directly with the world... ... It is through that once village and now city that you first recognize how much you have still to learn.

The water dries and you put so much power into the soil to make plants keep growing, it works for a century and then the rain comes ... dirt becomes mud that forms avalanches and buries many.

The illness comes, the gift you gave them made them stronger but it also made them many and many made the sickness spread.

Then comes war...you weren't there for it, not until it was too late. Your actions had cursed them and you tried inaction instead.

It was four thousands, two hundred, forty three years ago.

There's nothing left...you kneel as once bustling roads are covered in debris and flames... nothing is left except for maybe Ruins.

You have nobody to mourn, not at this point, and if you did you know Lady Death would be kind to them... It hurts in a way that's new, you fell short and the smoking ruins in front of you are proof of that. You took this city under your wings and they were doomed by your inaction.

Yet there is acceptance that you were never going to be able to save them, if you did now it would have happened again in the future...You see it happen to the survivors, it takes them decades at most to turn on eachother and begin their own war. They don't learn from the destruction and it returns again and again.

You become distant, you fold in yourself, you undo your gift and the world suffers for it. You feel it as the fields die and societies fall because of your storming thoughts. The land between the rivers you once heard stories of becomes dry and so do many other of those you have visited. (After millennias they'll name it a great calamity, the 4.2 kiloyear event... You aren't proud of it.)

And as you continue tonretreat into your domain you begin to change....

It was little over three thousands years ago.

You wake up, you are different...you have changed, you have grown into something more. Power is wasted without a way to use it for good, you have learnt so trough failure.

You wanted to do more then just blessing their crops, you wanted to allow them to learn and improve and use their experiences to do better, to grow like the sprouts you generate, to grow and learn like you did. Someone gifted you with what you wanted all along, you have changed in a way you didn't know could be possible.

Goddess of verdure then goddess of sunflowers and now goddess of wisdom too.

You descend onto the Earth once more, you still bring with you green fields and plentyful harvests but now you bring another gift with you for mortals to cherish.

[mayhellsky]

Замело тебя снегом, Россия...

(I had to make a new post bc i made a mistake in text + i finally signed my work)

You were snowbound with snow, Russia,

Snowbound with a grey blizzard

And the sad steppe winds

Sing dirges over you.

No path, no trace across the plains,

Through the drifts of boundless snow.

Can't get to the native svyatynyas,*

Can't hear native voices.

Swept, swept, buried

Everything sacred and dear, blizzard.

You are a blind cruel vis,

You are like death, lifeless snow.

You were snowbound with snow, Russia,

Snowbound with a grey blizzard

And the sad steppe winds

Sing dirges over you.

Святы́ня(svyatynya)* - something especially dear, lovingly preserved, revered. But in the modern world it's "shrine".

I couldn't translate it because I feel like there is no such word in English, just like toska.

[serpentface]

A beardog snoozes with a resting infant and lounging child of the Dragonbeak Pass shepherds.

(CW for mentions of dog death)

The cynozepali beardog originates in the cold northwestern Singing Steppe. This breed was originally developed from local landraces for their meat, pelts, and 'wool'. Pelts are luxurious and warm (dogsmane is a valuable commodity) and the meat of a grain-fattened beardog is considered a delicacy, but they are valuable animals and typically harvested only for special occasions. Most are kept for several years, being shorn of their continuously growing hair to produce dogswool textiles.

Beardogs are known for their gentle dispositions and low prey drive, making them excellent babysitters and playmates for young delkhin. Delkhin kids can walk and run soon after hatching, but cling to their mother's fur when traveling distances. Clinging to a dog instead frees the mothers for other tasks, and to focus attention on training the older children in driving goats and horses.

Dogs with good dispositions will assist in the rearing several generations of the lek's children throughout their lifetime, often becoming well loved by the lek (some peoples consider their prize herding and babysitting dogs to be family members). A child's first dogsmane collar is usually taken from one of their dogs upon its passing, worn through cold winters as a reminder of their beloved pet.

[hastalavistabyebye]

Holos #6

AO3 version

Ponds started the holo recording again. 

He hadn't really noticed before, but everybody always pronounced his name the same way. His training squad were the ones who had called it the most, it was very likely that they were the ones spreading the pronunciation somehow. There was a little bit of the intonation they all caught from Seventeen to be found there. 

Ponds. Pon-dz. 

They didn't pronounce it like the word it originally was, they said it like his name. The first syllable always accentuated a little more, like it was bouncing a little. The “d” like an afterthought and the “z”-sound at the end like it escaped from them. Always lilting, like they knew he would answer every time. As if they didn't expect any less of him anymore, a lifetime of being kids and asking help from their ori’vod shaping the word forever in their mouth. Calling him over, again and again. 

Everybody said it like that, his batchers, his troopers, his trainers. Jango Fett and Boba as well, many years ago. Even General Mace and General-Padawan Depa. He, himself, must say it the same way. 

Pon-dz. 

Except for one person. Sometimes it felt like it would have been the only person that mattered for Ponds, if there wasn't the war. “Always the war getting in the way”, as the most famous joke throughout the GAR said. 

Bacara had a way with words that was different from the rest of them. It was partly due to the dialect of mando’a he learned, different from the rest of the clones, of course. But it was also just Bacara. 

He said Ponds’ name in his quiet sort of way. Keeping the vowel short, taking away the sharpness and buzz from the final consonant to make it hiss a little, like the sounds of a snake. Like it was always murmured, always said carefully. Like something precious that needed to be handled with care. If Ponds dared to say that for himself, he would say it sounded a little bit like a prayer. 

Po-ndss. Ponds. 

He started the holo recording again, taking advantage of his private quarters to listen to it again and again even if it was the middle of the sleep cycle. Bacara had sent it an hour ago, he was showing him a bird he saw, soaring over the steppe, telling him all about its particularities, life habitat, habits. Everything he knew Ponds would love to learn. 

“I was surprised to see one, they usually hide in their nest this time of the year, for the end of their mating season. It’s to keep away from predators and rest with their mate. This one must be running late in its food gathering. It has both your colors and bad habits. I know it’s your sleep cycle right now, and I would bet my last bottle of the moonshine Neyo gave me from his engineers that you're still not sleeping. Take that as a— what did you say Caleb calls it ?— good night wishes. Sleep well, Ponds.”

Ponds had stopped looking at the bird after the first time, now simply listening to the small smile in Bacara’s voice. 

General Mace had told him once that people sing to kids to lull them to sleep, when they struggled to fall asleep by themselves. Ponds didn't know what to think of it, at the time. It might have been because the songs he knew weren't made to be quiet. This recording, though, was becoming his favorite lullaby with every repetition, succeeding to keep his racing thoughts calm enough to free him from his insomnia. 

[tenuuchlegch]

❃ Au ra was not so much inclined to confess it aloud, but lately she felt that Gaius had some similarities with her deceased father. Not that the au ra believed she would ever see him as anything more than an associate, but spotting Garlean around his surrogate daughter brought back some memories.

[countriesgame]

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