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rosesisupposes · 4 years ago

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Mist Connection (Sleepxiety)

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Virgil's always been told to be careful in the fog. “Never stray from the path, no matter what you think you see or hear!” He's sure his Aunties are just superstitious. And yet...

pairing: Virgil/Remy (Sleep)

content tags: brief mention of parent death/disappearance; fae-like setting; Remy Is A Flirt; kissing, background best friends analogical

word count: 4,072

⁂

Virgil has always hated the fog.

He stomps down the country road to his house, trying to make his footfalls louder.

He knows it's superstitious, but the thick, cloying clouds make him feel claustrophobic, like anyone or anything could leap out at any time.

And then, of course, there are the stories.

All his village Aunties talk of disappearances, a last sighting of a poor soul walking into a thick bank of fog and never being seen again.

“Be careful, lad,” they warn him. “Never stray from the path, no matter what you think you see or hear!”

Virgil rolls his eyes at them, smiles indulgently are their old tales. His friend Logan is always quick to point out that all these stories happened just before he was born, so it can only be passed down in rumor.

But a part of him believes, and so he dons his heaviest combat boots, zips his bomber jacket over his hoodie, and he keeps his eyes glued to the ground in front of him, watching each step to stay on the path.

He’s sure the legends are really about caution- the woods here are dense, and difficult to navigate even when it’s clear. It’s all too likely those sad disappearances were just folks who got disoriented and blundered in all the wrong directions.

But then again, one can never be too cautious.

It’s probably because he’s dwelling on those tales that he hears it.

“Virgil...”

Distinctly, a voice. Saying his name. It sounds... familiar, somehow. But who?

He pauses, listening hard. He hears nothing, though, and keeps on. He’s close to home.

He looks up, peering for the porch light. But then he sees- eyes? No, not quite eyes. They’re far too big, for one, but they also look too... blank.

“Virgil!” The voice says again, and now there’s a mouth along with the maybe-eyes. He’s not imagining- there’s certainly a face, of some kind, and it’s speaking to him. By name.

Virgil hesitates. He’s had several nights in a row of not great sleep- maybe he’s just tired and seeing things? But all the voices of his Aunties are yelling in his ear to look away, to keep moving.

The only problem is, the face is directly in the path where he needs to walk. He can only avoid it by going off the road. And that, he knows, is a far worse option.

So he takes a deep breath, looks down, and keeps walking forward. He keeps his eyes fixed at where the cloud meets the ground, at the edge of the little circle of visibility he has in each direction. It moves with him, as fog always does.

But when he chances a glance up, the face is still there. And now it’s more defined, a head shaped in the mist. And now he sees that the large eyes are in fact glasses. That makes sense.

Why am I trying to apply logic to a trick of my eyes in the fog? he asks himself angrily, and he firmly roots his gaze to the ground once more, stomping on.

“Virgil... wait, please!” the voice says again. More words now? Can he still call that just a trick of a tired mind?

Through the mist, he can make out the slightest nimbus of light from his porch lantern. He knows where home is, and it’s close.

So it can’t be too risky, right?

“Who do you speak to?” he asks cautiously, not wanting to confirm that this hallucination knows his name.

“I speak to you, Virgil!” the hallucination says, and its mouth is defined enough now for him to see a smile. The mist is rippling, more and more forming into defined shapes, giving it a neck, and shoulders, and a steadily-growing torso.

“Who are you? What are you?” Virgil asks. He tugs at his hoodie until the hood is free from under his jacket, draping it over his ears and head.

“You don’t remember?” the form asks, pouting. “Am I that unmemorable?”

“And what am I supposed to remember?” Virgil asks guardedly.

“How we met, babes! It seems so recent, but you’re so much bigger now...”

Virgil frowns. Something deep in the recesses of his memory stirs, like a whisper of a dream from many years ago.

The form has grown enough to have arms and the beginnings of legs. “Take my hand, you’ll remember,” it says, extending its newly-formed limb.

“Oh yeah? I’ll remember, and what else? Do I look dumb enough to go around shaking hands with every fog-creature I see?” Virgil crosses his arms resolutely, and the form droops slightly.

“I mean you no harm, hon. I just want to talk.”

Virgil says nothing, just taps his steel-tipped toe.

“Fine, no, sweetie, you don’t look dumb. Just familiar. Hm, do you have an older brother or father who looks like you? Did I skip a generation again?”

The more defined the form becomes, the more human its voice sounds, no longer an ethereal echo but a drawl. Virgil’s not quite sure if he should be reassured or more freaked out by that.

“Can’t help you there,” he replies. “If I have any siblings, I’ve never met them. And ditto on the dad.”

Finally, the form is complete, head to toe. It appears to stand on the ground, but it clearly cannot detach from its cloud completely. “Then clearly, introductions are in order.” It looks at Virgil for a moment, then grows a very similar jacket around its torso. “You may call me Remy.”

“Okay, fog-boy,” Virgil replies, arms still crossed. “You’ve been calling me Virgil, feel free to continue.”

“Virgil. I’m glad to have found you. I’ve been looking for you, you see. Or at least, I think it was you. You haven’t always been this big, right? Humans are weird.”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “Strong words for a - man? Entity? - who just grew a body out of a cloud. But yeah, I grew the human way. I was a kid. Now I’m not. Are we done?”

“No, please!” Remy says, arms raising as Virgil starts to walk forward. “I can’t- if you go too close to the lantern I won’t be able to speak to you. I- if we did meet, touching my hand would bring the memory back, nothing more. I swear I mean you no harm. Please?”

Virgil hesitates. It’s a risk, for sure. But haven’t the aunties always said the fair folk cannot lie?

“Does it have to be your hand?” he asks.

“No, any part of this form will do.”

“Then turn around,” Virgil orders.

Remy obeys.

Virgil steels himself, still considering the possibility that he could just run to his house now. But curiosity takes hold, and he reaches out to lightly brush Remy’s shoulder. It feels odd, still a cloud, but gives more slowly, like memory foam. And then- he remembers.

He’s a child again, no more than five or so, and he’s lost on the way home. Auntie hurt her leg and couldn’t walk with him. He’d insisted he was able to walk the quarter mile himself. But then the fog had rolled in. He’s cautiously proceeding, staying on the path, but he’s terrified.

He hears a voice, calling his name, and follows it. A smile dances in the mist around him, and the voice tells him it will guide him home, only take its hand.

Virgil wraps chubby fingers around the cloud hand dangling from the mist, and true to its word, the porch light is soon visible. Another Auntie is on the porch, looking frantic, but calms when she sees him.

Virgil lets go of the hand, and he’s back in the present, hand dangling in mid air behind Remy’s back. He frowns in confusion.

“So I met you. And you helped. Why? Everyone not a child knows the mist isn’t friendly.”

Remy turns back around, looking hurt. “And did Everyone ever try buying me a drink first?”

In spite of himself, Virgil snorts in laughter.

“You’re a cloud, can you even drink?”

“No,” Remy replies, pouting, “but they could have made an effort!”

“Fine, so you’re not that bad. Can I go home now?”

“No- please, you’re the first one to hear me in... Goddess, even I’ve lost count.“

“So what,” Virgil asks with a shrug. “Did you just want to chat? Cause small talk ain’t my jam. I have a date with a conspiracy theory marathon.”

Remy droops. “I can’t keep you. Go, then. I’ll return to being alone and formless, reviled by the locals, my reputation cruelly smeared!”

“Holy shit, drama queen much?”

“Why yes, I am a queen! Thank you for noticing!” Remy replies, perking up.

Virgil rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but be a bit charmed by this odd creature. He dusts off a stump at the edge of the road and sits. “Fine. I’ll give you five minutes. Why can’t everyone hear you? Why does everyone think the mist will make us humans disappear?”

Remy’s feet leave the ground as they wriggle in happiness. A flick, and a chaise starts to melt into being out of the fog next to Virgil, giving them a place to elegantly flop down.

“I don’t know why they can’t all hear me,” they admit. “It only seems to be people who are... special, in some way. I think there’s been one a generation, but time’s a bitch and I don’t like her.”

Virgil smirks but doesn’t reply, nodding for them to continue.

“The disappearances... I think time might be an issue again? Time or space. One of those. Maybe both. I thought all humans were returned to the same moment and spot they left, but apparently I’m not the only one who gets messed up?”

“So... wait, what are you, exactly? Are you of the gentle folk?”

Remy sniffs. “How dare. My manners are so much better than theirs. Did I ask for you name? Have I whisked you off to my court? No ma’am!”

“Jeez, touchy! If not fae, what are you?”

Remy ruffles their hair, and it wisps around as if in a breeze. “I think you humans would call me, hmm, a spirit? Elemental? I’d tell you my actual name, but you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.”

“Try me.”

Remy smirks, then makes a sound like the wind over a heath, the dampened noise of waves lapping at a shore, and the tiny sound of goosebumps forming in the clammy air.

“Okay, you’re right, I can’t pronounce that.”

Remy smirks deeper. “So anyway, I keep waiting to find one of you who can hear me properly, but most people just hear echoes I think? And that freaks out the poor lil human brains.”

“Wow, can’t imagine why,” Virgil replies drily.

“Hey, it’s not easy being ignored and invisible to everyone who passes you! Not that I’d expect you to understand-“

“Of course I understand,” Virgil says with a shrug. “That’s most of my life since the Aunties decided I was raised enough.”

Remy pauses. “What are ‘Aunties’. Are those... food?”

“...they’re people. Why would you think food?”

“Humans do weird things, okay?”

“Sure, whatever. Aunties are all the ladies in town who collectively took care of me when I was a kid. Because no parents.”

“And parents are- the ones who made you?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

“Well, how can you not have them then?”

Virgil shrugs. “They didn’t stick around, I guess. I was dropped off at the wardlings house when I was a baby. I’ve only ever had the Aunties, and my best friend Lo.”

“Low?”

“Logan.”

Remy scratches their cloudy head. “Have I seen this Logan?”

“Nah, he was a pen pal, now an internet pal.”

Remy smiles, bemused. “I will pretend I know what any of those words mean!”

“I’ve never met him face to face,” Virgil explains.

Remy’s own face falls. “So you are also lonely.”

Virgil, about to shrug philosophically, pauses. “I- yeah. I am. It’s mostly fine, I’m an introvert. It’s fine.”

Remy sits up from their lounging position and stares at Virgil, or appears to. The glasses over their eyes are opaque, and the gray clouds of their face are hard to read.

“Do you think, maybe- I was so excited to be able to talk to you, Virgil. I would like to do so again, if you would allow it.”

Virgil looks down. The Aunties would absolutely screech in dismay at this entire situation, let along agreeing to repeat it. But- it hasn’t been unpleasant. It’s been intriguing. And Remy saved him, all those years ago.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he replies, looking up with a smile. He’s rewarded by a smile on Remy’s face that’s so bright, it almost seems like a second lantern.

“Until next time, Virgil- wait, humans have family names, correct? What is yours?”

Virgil is standing to walk home, but smiles wryly. “You need a family to have a family name. I was found in the doorstep in the middle of thunder and rain, so they’ve always called me Virgil Storm.”

“Until next time, Virgil Storm!” Remy says. They hesitate, then move through the mist closer to Virgil. “This is how humans say goodbye, I believe,” they say, and then Virgil feels that odd sensation of dense clouds touching his cheeks, one that distracts him so much that he’s barely aware of Remy leaning in until lips of clouds are pressed against his.

When Remy finally withdraws, Virgil’s mind has come to a complete stop, and it’s not until his body has fully faded back into the swirling mists that Virgil is able to make himself move.

He walks into his house, shucks his layers and boots robotically, and collapses on the couch. He stares at the TV as it plays his conspiracy marathon, but his eyes don’t take in a single minute of it.

A fog person just kissed me. The thought, with no useful additions, circles endlessly through his brain, even as he falls into a restless sleep.

⁂

Virgil pays an unusual amount of attention to the weather after that... well, unusual night.

He checks the humidity every day, looks for fronts coming in that might bring in a bank of fog, asks the local farmers their predictions. He never mentions why he’s so interested. Certainly not to the Aunties, but also not to Logan. His friend can tell he’s a little distracted, but not enough to be a real concern.

Virgil’s not quite sure why he won’t even hint at it, but he knows it’s at least partly because, well. He’s not convinced it was real.

He had been very tired, so there’s a non-zero chance he did imagine it all. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

But when he’s lost in thought, he keeps realizing that his hand drifts to his lips and the sensory memory they still hold.

A week later, the forest eases under a coverlet of soft clouds curling close to the ground. From the minute the mist gathers, Virgil is sitting on his porch, peering into the growing fog with anticipation and nervousness.

When he can barely see the first tree, he double checks the porch lantern and walks out, checking over his shoulder until he’s fully surrounded by dense, swirling clouds.

He waits, looking around him, but sees nothing, and hears nothing.

“Uh, Remy?” he says aloud, feeling self-conscious. “Fog-spirit? It’s, um. Me. I mean, it’s Virgil.”

A weight in his stomach is insisting that it was all a sleep-deprived hallucination, and that he’s speaking like a fool into empty air. The rest of his stomach not currently sinking through his knees twists into elaborate pretzels.

Just as he’s giving up hope, turning to go, he sees smooth orbs sticking out of the amorphous clouds. The smile follows, already smirking.

“Oh babes, don’t tell me you mist me!” Remy drawls.

Virgil wants to run to them, to reach out and confirm that they’re really real, but he restrains himself. “I wasn’t sure you’d show,” he says with a deceptively noncommittal shrug.

Their body forms faster this time, and they lower their glasses to stare at Virgil for a moment. “Oh hun, don’t even try, I know what it’s like to be waiting breathlessly for someone to return.”

Virgil finds himself breathless anew, caught by the sight of Remy’s revealed eyes. They glow softly, like the hazy haloes of twin lanterns somewhere in the distance behind them.

He coughs, finding his thoughts again. “Do you even need to breathe? As an- elemental, was it?”

Remy sniffs. “No, but I can if I want to. I’ve made myself lungs before! It was weird. I don’t know how humans do it.”

“We don’t exactly get a choice,” Virgil replies drily.

“And yet, Virgil Storm,” Remy says, drifting closer, “I think it’s really you who’s taken my breath away.” They cup Virgil’s cheek again, and this time Virgil’s sure his brain has absolutely ceased functioning.

“...erm. Uh. Yes?” he stammers, his cheeks flaming in stark contrast to the cool, humid touch of Remy’s fingers.

“What is this color, Virgil?” they ask softly. “It reminds me of- lady slippers. Early spring peonies. But with the warmth of a midsummer rain.”

“It’s called a blush,” Virgil mutters, still demonstrating the affliction.

“You didn’t do this last time,” they comment, still holding Virgil’s cheek in one cool hand.

“Last time, you hadn’t already kissed me,” Virgil says to the ground, the heat in his cheeks bursting out even more.

“Did I upset you?” Remy asks, a dark line of clouds showing a crease in their forehead.

“Not- upset, no,” Virgil manages. “You surprised me, though. Kind of a lot.”

“Surprises can be good or bad, yes? Was it a good or bad one?”

“It was, uh. A good one.”

“Would it be better if it were not a surprise?” they ask, and there’s mischief in their misty smile.

“Absolutely,” Virgil breathes, veins thrumming.

Remy leans in, and they’re kissing him again, and he’s... god, this is objectively the weirdest thing he’s ever done, and yet he can’t bring himself to care even a bit.

He kisses back, this time, feeling the odd, pleasant sensation of cool lips giving under his without dissipating. He reaches up and finds he can cup Remy’s soft, cloudy cheeks too.

A tiny, insuppressible voice in the back of his head wonders if an elemental has a tongue, or if that’s something they’d have to grow for the occasion.

The question definitely interests him, but there’s a second, louder voice.

Breaking off, it’s the second voice that tumbles out of his mouth. “Do you kiss everyone who can see you?”

Remy pauses. “I- well. Technically, yes?”

Virgil steps back, arms coming up to guard himself off. The heat in his cheeks feels like ice now. “So, what. I’m just another human conquest?”

“No!” Remy says, and there’s clear distress in their voice. “No, not at all, it’s just- I admit, I have not been... entirely honest?”

Virgil narrows his eyes. “Start talking truth now, then. Or I’m walking away right now.”

Remy holds up their hands in defeat and surrender. “I was mostly truthful, I swear. I don’t know why some people can hear me, but I know why you can. And only two people ever have.”

“And why can I hear and see you?”

“Because of the last person who could.”

“And who was that?”

Remy takes off their glasses, meeting Virgil’s eyes with theirs. “I believe it was your parent.”

Virgil’s ears roar as his brain struggles to process this announcement. His parents? The ones he never even looked for, since no one had any leads? There’d been no note, no memento, no witness of who’d dropped him off. And he has his Aunties. But he’s never stopped wondering, fantasizing about dramatic backstories that he’d never confess to in a million years.

“Who are they?” Virgil asks, in a small voice.

“They were- unique. They heard us, after generations in this village who couldn’t or refused to. They lingered and talked, and didn’t run away in fear.”

“You talked to them?” Virgil asks, hope bursting out of his throat. “What was their name? What were they like?”

“I didn’t, no,” Remy replies with a small shake of their head. “Not until much later. No, they talked to a different elemental, a mentor of mine.”

Virgil stares. "There are... more of you?"

Remy smirks. "Not of me, hun, I'm one of a kind. But yes, there are other elementals. Fog's not the only thing in the world, sadly."

"What was your mentor's element, then?"

Remy sobers, and reaches out to clasp Virgil's shoulder. "Thunderstorms. They were the Thunder Spirit."

Virgil stiffens. "Wait, does that mean- the rain, when I was dropped off?"

"It was them, yeah," Remy says softly.

"What-" Virgil's voice is rough. "What happened to the other one? The human?"

Remy sighs deeply. They drop their arm to their side, and their body follows, falling to sit suspended in their soft clouds. "They disappeared, having you. None of us knew it would happen. They just... melted into the storm. Your parent, the elemental, they were able to save you, but they couldn't save their lover. And my mentor, Thunder- they couldn't care for you, not the way you needed. So they dropped you off and saw that you were picked up safely."

Virgil feels his legs giving out. His parents- not in any of his daydreams had they been, well, magic. He'd thought- maybe if they were, they wouldn't have left him. Or they would have come back.

Distantly his brain wonders why he's not on the hard ground, and he realizes Remy has sent solid clouds to hold him up despite the jelly his limbs have become,

"...why didn't they come for me?" he asks his knees, tears leaking down his cheeks. "Thunder- why didn't they find me, all these years?"

The clouds of Remy's cheeks have grown darker, and small raindrops drip from them. "They were devastated, Virgil. They loved your parent, truly and utterly, and they blame themself for their death. And we experience time differently - it hasn't been that long, for them. They haven't recovered. But they asked me to watch over you, to make sure you were safe."

Virgil swipes at his cheeks. "Doesn't that make you a creep, then?" He glares at the foggy entity in accusation. "Watching me since I was a kid, then kissing me?"

"I was barely a 'kid' myself when they asked me to, I swear," Remy protests. "They were like my- what was your word - Aunties? They looked after me, showed me the ropes of my powers as a new being. I promise to you, I wasn't leering then, I was new and young and, perhaps, interfering more directly than the elders wanted by taking your hand all those years ago.

"There'd been too many oddities of humans and the mist," they continue. "Disappearances. Our cousins the fae causing mischief when we weren't watching. So the elders created me, to survey all that the mist touches."

"So. What. Your love is pure or some shit," Virgil drawls, acid dripping off his words.

"Yes," Remy answers simply.

If they'd qualified, or justified, Virgil could be more defensive, could refuse to believe it. But they just stare at him, glasses off, glowing eyes sincere.

"Oh," is all he can manage in response. Maintaining eye contact has a strange side effect of making his cheeks heat up, so he has a staring contest with his boots, instead.

"Babes, please look at me?" they ask gently.

Virgil can't ignore such a polite request, can he?

But it's a dirty trick. How can he maintain a tough, self-righteously angry exterior when Remy is smiling at him with so much liking in their eyes that the orbs might as well be glowing hearts?

"Can you forgive me, Virgil? For not telling you everything sooner?"

Virgil resists for all of a second before breaking into a broad grin. "You could convince me, somehow."

Remy grins, and lifts Virgil off his feet, fully suspended in the low-hanging clouds. "I'll do my best to be very convincing."

Virgil, the son of a Thunder Spirit and their human paramour, laughs, and pulls Remy in to kiss him again, and again, and again.

#sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #ts remy #ts virgil #omg look y'all i finished something #and it's sfw #fog spirit remy #half-human virgil #urban legends #country legends #roses writes fanfic

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tehri · 4 years ago

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Hobbits and naming conventions

The most common comparison that’s been going around lately has been between the names of hobbits belonging to the Baggins family and the Took family. There is quite a distinct difference between the names, so it’s understandable that it seems a bit jarring to go from something simple like, say, Longo to something more noble-sounding like Isengrim.

In comparison, the names given to girls are very different. True, there are a few more nonsensical ones, like Belba. But there are also plenty of flower- or gem-names. This also gives a very odd contrast between the names of male hobbits and those of female hobbits.

However, there is a bit of reasoning behind the names, at least those belonging to hobbits from families with Fallohide blood. Those are not taken out of thin air. They were oftentimes given names evoking figures of legend (whether this means figures of legend in our world or in Middle-earth is hard to say, but it’s certainly not mistaken either way).

So allow me to begin with the grand one himself, Gerontius Took, also known as the Old Took. His name is of some debated origin, with some ties to Greek, Latin, and Welsh. In Greek, the element geron means “old”. The name is also an actual Latin name from the Late Roman Empire, and in Welsh it is rendered as Geraint; put quite simply, the name means “old man”. Let me also bring up two of his sons - let’s go with Isengrim and Hildibrand. To start with the eldest, Isengrim, his name is Anglo-Saxon in origin and consists of isen, meaning “iron”, and grim, meaning “fierce”. There is a chance that Tolkien actually named him after a wolf that appears in the medieval story of Reynard the Fox. Then we have Hildibrand, whose name is likely of Lombardic origin and consists of hild, meaning battle, and brand, meaning sword. He was probably named after a character of Germanic legend.

Then, let me point at the Bolgers. They were also a family with Fallohide blood, and followed the same naming customs. For instance, Odovacar Bolger, Fatty Bolger’s father, shares name with a Germanic king of Rome. Fredegar himself (Fatty, that is) has a name that combines two elements that are either Old High German, Old Saxon, or Old English - fridu, or frithu, which means “peace”, and gār or gēr meaning “spear”.

But it is not only families with Fallohide blood that have different-sounding names. The Brandybuck family, which can be claimed to have Stoor blood, have a naming convention of their own that likely reflects their old connection to the Men of Dunland. The names are somewhat Celtic in sound, though not all of them have actual meanings.

Let me begin with our main man, Meriadoc “Merry” Brandybuck. His name is, in fact, Welsh and means roughly “Great Lord”. The names of his great-great-grandfather and his great-great-great-grandfather, Marmadoc and Madoc, are also Celtic in origin, with Madoc being found among Welsh names and Marmadoc being derived from the old Irish Máel Máedóc (roughly “follower of Saint Malachy”). Fun fact: the name Marmaduke is from the same one as Marmadoc.

So how about the Brandybuck names that sound Celtic, but have no meaning? Well, we have an excellent example in Merry’s uncle Merimac, younger brother of Saradoc Brandybuck. The name Merimac has the Celtic mac in it, which at the very least in Irish means “son” (I can’t answer for Scottish Gaelic or for Welsh, I only know a little bit of Irish). However, the prefix meri does not appear to have a meaning in modern day languages; though Tolkien did have some Westron words written out, and meri could simply be a sort of “translation” of the Westron kali, which would indicate that it means essentially “jolly”. Actually, Saradoc’s name is of personal interest to me. I’ve found a note claiming that the name is derived from the Welsh Caradoc, the name of a semi-legendary ancestor to the kings of Gwent. Which at least in my opinion is pretty cool. But I can’t find any links that may confirm the claim, so it shall, for now, remain a dream.

BUT. What about the nonsensical names that appear in various families? Well, there is the post going around about how these names are Baggins names, which is an outright false claim. Yes, they sound odd, and since people mostly pay attention to the Bagginses they’ll only really see them there. But fact is, that the names are everywhere. The Proudfoots have them, the Hornblowers have them, the Boffins, the Burrowses, the Chubbs, the Goodbodies - they’re everywhere. They are, therefore, presumably very common. And it’s not just the male names either.

Look at the female names as well. Belba? Chica? Tanta? No, it’s not just the male hobbits that have odd nonsensical names, even if flower- or gem-names are more common for female hobbits (with the gem-names being more specifically for upper-class female hobbits). But then we also have the names Belladonna, Donnamira, and Mirabella - the names of Gerontius Took’s three daughters. These three names are distinctly different; Belladonna is of Italian origin, as is Mirabella - I can’t actually find a definite origin for Donnamira, but since both halves of her name are Italian/Latin in origin, I’m willing to wager that’s the intention there. Odd bit of contrast, no?

Either way, I’m willing to bet that these nonsensical names that keep popping up in so many families are something of a custom in hobbit families with Harfoot blood. That’s not to say that it is the only custom; we don’t know if the Gamgee family had Harfoot blood or otherwise, as it’s never stated, but it appears to be heavily implied - and most of them appear to have Old English names.

Note also that the nonsensical names have a tendency to sound very similar - chances are that later names on the family tree are derived from earlier ones, such as the names Uffo and Gruffo on the Boffin family tree, quite clearly derived from the name of Uffo’s great-grandfather Buffo. For that matter, why not bring up the name of our dear Bilbo Baggins? His great-grandfather was named Balbo. I daresay Bilbo’s name was derived from there.

So - nonsensical names? Sure, they sound weird. But there is clearly some form of meaning to them, even if it is just a certain naming convention or a wish to pay homage to relatives. I ask that you do not dismiss them, but instead view them as what they clearly are: a hobbit tradition, and perhaps a specific Harfoot custom.

Thank you for reading.

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theholycovenantrpg · 4 years ago

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In the beginning was CADE BEKKER, a GIFTED loyal to the cause of the MORTALS. He is said to be THIRTY-THREE and uses HE/HIM pronouns. In this New Testament he serves as a MEMBER of the ROUND TABLE. Blessed be his name.

THE INDELIBLE MARK.

The fire that was lit within Cade during the Blood Plague never quite went out. In fact, it seemed as though it had found a pyre within him, kindling to create the only ever-lasting flame known to mortals. While he was being consumed by the plague, his caretakers thought that he would surely die from his feverish temperatures alone but when he awoke, it seemed that—while he did stabilize—the temperatures did not abate. His skin is always warm to the touch as though there is a living hearth within him, but what was all the more astounding was his ability to manipulate fire. It listens to his will like a loyal dog, ready and willing to bite and snap at his say-so; all he ever need is a spark or a flint to set the whole world aflame if he so desires. No one can truly say whether this gift might be one granted by God or the Devil—all anyone knows is that it is a dangerous weapon to be placed in the hands of an equally dangerous man. And, although he tries not to show it, it can be a rather costly weapon to wield. He can become easily dehydrated and, with every use of his gift, he finds it increasingly difficult to control the flames -- to the point where no one is surprised if he has new scars every week or so. The scars that were left by the Blood Plague are rather unique -- his hands look charred up to the elbows but instead of scarred flesh, it looks as though obsidian has healed where the skin should be.

THE HISTORY.

His story was always meant to be a grand one -- one of those great, exciting tales that parents tell their children at night when the fire is dim and their threadbare blanket can no longer stave off the cold. Though they might fall asleep with empty, aching stomachs, they would, at least, have rousing dreams of the great and godless Cade Bekker. Their parents might not be able to offer hope, but Cade might. The Bekker family was once of great prominence—the heirs that were produced were intelligent, charismatic, innovative and talented, although with each generation it seemed less so. Cursed by God or by the Devil, who is to say which? All that was known was that Cade’s mother was their last, fleeting hope at societal redemption; how could she be anything but when she was so vivacious and engaging, so sweet and kind? But the fool of a woman dared to marry for love rather than obligation. From them, she fled, the threat of death hounding her footsteps as she tried to escape her family’s desperate attempts to dissuade her from ruining them all. But if they couldn’t have her, then neither could the man who had claimed her heart—so they ripped it from his chest. Thankfully, though, they could not rip the young babe from her stomach. He had not yet taken his first breath and already, it was a harrowing beginning for the godless boy.

His mother was never meant for a long or lasting life—and if she was, then it was stolen away by Cade the moment that he opened his blood-covered eyes. He was passed from hand to hand, first by some kindly nurses, then by some old crones, only to be left to the dirty streets of the Holy Land once he reached the age of twelve. Perhaps it was because he had a penchant for pinching sparkling jewels and loose coins from the pockets of the lords and ladies of the land, or perhaps it was because he knew he would never truly thrive in the monotony of a stable household. Although he’d never admit it, the truth of the matter was that households full of warmth only left him feeling colder; the farce of a family only ever made him feel the blunt edge of melancholy and loneliness. On the streets a boy his age could find adventure, unpredictability, and—above all—absolute freedom. And it was with the promise of this that he managed to entrap others into his gambit, light-fingered little devils that felt that same coldness, that same blunt edged loneliness that he did. Wide-eyed children with the twist of hunger in their belly and the same stubborn, undying blaze in their eyes that promised to give the world a reckoning. With them he founded his own family, one that was earned and rewarded in unconditional loyalty and love. It was, perhaps, the first true taste of love that he had ever known in his life.

So, of course, it had to be taken away. The Blood Plague swept over his merry crew of criminals like a wildfire through the countryside, leaving nothing but wreckage, ruin, and despairing tears. He was the only one that survived it and—though he won’t admit it—it was a curse more than anything. Life hardly seems worth living when all that you care for is gone, when you are forced to watch them wither away in a bloody mess of tears. There was a burning that overtook him when the plague descended upon him; the fever washed over him, burning away the pieces of his soul that one might have deemed soft or precious. As he recovered he realized that this burning would never leave, it would always remain within him like a festering, aching wound. Living on the streets, building his little empire, had taught him many things—but shouldering the pain and weight of such despair is something that few are ever taught and even fewer know how to carry on with. So, with his newfound gift, he carried what remained of his shoddy kingdom, determined to remake himself in the hopes that it might ease the pain of his loss. Cade knew it was in vain, but still he hoped that, should he become a new man, the ghosts of his past might forget his face and name.

He became a reputable fighter, a figure of the people that fought only for the people—not the demons nor the angels who might think to stake their claim as citizens of the Holy Land. His tale was one that was whispered about, a walking, talking legend of a man who paid no mind to any God, Devil, or monarch that might think to stand in his way. They painted him a figure of hope when, in truth, he stumbled along like a child clinging to a wall in the dark, grasping and groping in the desperate belief that there will soon be light to guide him. Cade had knocked the angel down because he loathed the contempt that they had shown the poor, weakened beggar. He had held the knife to the demon’s throat because they had dared to drunkenly strike a mortal in his presence. For fleeting moments of wrathful justice they lauded him and declared him a representative to sit at the Round Table. They had all but given him a crown to wear—and now they called for him to sit on the Mortal throne, hoping to hail as the next great Star. Godless, they called him in the hopes that he might be their new deity, to guide them and take them under his mantle. How can they dare ask him to be their guiding light when he can’t even find his own?

THE CONNECTIONS.

RYUK: Tool. Cade is quite aware of the power that they hold—not only as a Horseman but as an individual entity. But there is something distinctly lacking; they may be an infamous individual, a mark of the Old World that has extended into the present one, but they were created for their legend. Cade, on the other hand, rightfully earned the many titles and monikers that he has been given and it was not because God had some predestined notion for him, it was because Cade himself had made it so. And though he feels as though they treat him with an undeserved amount of contempt, he tries to pay it no mind because they are, and will prove to be, quite useful to him. Though he cannot be quite sure of it, he knows that there are those who would profit more from his loss than his ascension and what better protection can he have than that of Death itself?

JUDAS: Headache. He never quite understood what was meant by “the grinding and gnashing of teeth” in the aged references to hell until he met Judas. The demon seems to take copious amounts of pleasure in being present when Cade has been at his most unhinged; the exact events being the ones that earned him the ire of the demons and angels and the laudations of the mortals. Judas seems keen on placing himself in Cade’s good graces, but Cade has no interest in the simperings of a creature whose name is synonymous with betrayal. But he has never been a wasteful man and recognizes the usefulness of even the most obvious of sycophants—so Cade has taken to keeping him on a rather tight leash.

JASPER RICHE: Best Friend. It is not unexpected to find comradery among those who sit at the Round Table -- they all have to earn their seat there, after all. But there are few who are able to get Cade to live a little—and Jasper has a particular gift for getting Cade to live a little too much. The two are as thick as thieves and many have noted that they are far more brotherly than Jasper and Luca who are literal brothers. Although Cade pays no mind to rumors, he can’t help but feel the slightest bit concerned about this because he himself has never understood the idea of a blood-bonded family, but doesn’t want to take it away from Jasper when it seems like something so rare to come by. There are times when he has seen Jasper glower at his younger sibling and he can’t help but feel the unease knot within his stomach when, in a flash, it dissipates. The worst part is, Cade can’t seem to find it in himself to be too bothered by this. After all, to him there is no loss; he only has a true brother to gain.

EPHEMERA: Farce. He doesn’t quite know what it is about her but there is something that does not quite strike true to him. Ephemera carries herself like she is the epitome of righteousness and virtue, but he knows that no God has ever made anything truly good, which leads him to the conclusion that whatever goodness there is in Ephemera only extends so far—at her core she is rotten, just as they all are. All the angels hail her as a truly reputable and noble person; what a glorious thing it would be to dash all their hopes right before their eyes. To do so would force the angels to confront the reality that he has always known to be true: they are no better or any worse than the rest of the mortals and demons. All they need is for the best among them to be toppled from their lofty pedestals—and he is always looking for a new project to engage in. Why not this one?

Cade is portrayed by Martin Sensmeier and was written by ROSEY. He is currently OPEN.

#literate rp #lsrpg #fantasy rp #rpg #biblical rp #m #g #cade bekker #o #om

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drabbledragon · 6 years ago

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Another fic inspired by the LinkedUniverse AU. This piece was written for Sky Week over on Discord and I was surprised to see the length it reached (5.7K words!). It was honestly so much fun to write.

Summary: Throughout months of travel, Sky finally has the chance to go back home.

Warnings: Some violence and a minor mention of animal abuse.

Wrapped in his sailcloth, Sky dreamt about memories from the past. He dreamt about running around Skyloft with his Zelda, marvelling at the Skyloftian Knights as they soared by on their birds; he dreamt about jumping from the island to the clouds below, his Crimson Loftwing catching him before he could so much as blink; he dreamt about flying with Zelda after the Wing Ceremony, a fond smile on her lips as she looked at him with so much adoration and fondness that it made his heart melt; then he dreamt about falling - about being knocked off his Loftwing and Zelda mercilessly being ripped away from him, tears filling her eyes as she reached out for him but couldn’t quite grasp his hand. He saw the pure fear in her eyes as she was brought further and further away from him and soon enough, she was gone from his sight. He yelled out, calling Zelda’s name over and over again as if that alone would bring her back but his pleas were left unheard. He was falling alone now, plummeting towards a world filled with monsters and demons, the screams from the Surface threatening to cancel out his cries.

Sky jolted awake with a yelp. With adrenaline still pumping, he frantically pushed himself off the ground, whipping his head around as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Tall trees towered over him and panic started to seize him as he realized that he wasn’t in his bed in Skyloft anymore but somewhere unknown - somewhere that wasn’t safe; however, once he caught sight of Legend softly snoring beside him, his pounding heart started to settle.

Oh, that’s right; we’re in Warriors’s Hyrule, he reminded himself, willing his uneven breaths to come out slower and more controlled. They had settled for the night after hours of wandering through the dense forest that covered a majority of Warriors’s land; they were hoping to find at least some kind of clue connected to their sudden meeting but to no avail. Judging by the height of the moon over their makeshift camp, it was around three in the morning, meaning he could still get a good three hours of sleep before Time would force them to keep moving again.

But then memories of his recent nightmare started to resurface and his heart clenched painfully as he remembered the terrified scream that escaped Zelda’s lips. There was no way he could fall back asleep with that sound haunting him.

He stood up instead and made his way over to an overhang not to far off from camp - maybe gazing at the night sky would bring him some peace of mind. Securing the Master Sword across his back, Sky gently shuffled through the camp, careful not to wake the others.

With his knees tucked comfortably underneath his chin, he gazed absentmindedly at the full moon above. Combined with the slight breeze that ruffled his hair every so often, the moon’s shine replaced his unease with a sense of longing. The sight reminded him of his younger days in the Knight’s Academy when he would stay up late to watch the stars twinkle over his dorm. There would be unfinished papers and books strung haphazardly along his desk, long since abandoned once Sky caught glimpse of a shooting star crossing the sky; after that, he would spend hours admiring the beautiful night, thanking Hylia for bestowing such a beautiful scene for all of Skyloft to see. A soft sigh escaped his lips at the fond memory. He missed his home dearly.

“I knew I saw someone walk off from camp.”

Sky perked up at the voice, turning around just in time to see Twilight emerging from the bushes. He watched amusedly as the newcomer dusted off the stray leaves sticking to his clothes and hair before a sudden thought dawned on him: "Oh! I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Nope, just saw you sneak out while on watch duty. You’re quiet but hard to miss." He replied casually before settling down next to the flustered man. He observed the night sky silently for a few seconds before turning his attention to the other. “So didn’t feel like sleeping tonight?”

His embarrassed expression dropped into a sorrowful frown. “Not quite; just woke up from a bad dream, that’s all.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that.” Twilight grimaced as he felt a pang of sympathy. It wasn’t unusual for each of them to have bad dreams every once in a while, whether it be from recent events or from memories long ago. They’ve all been on various quests - have all seen their fair share of pain and agony and there was no doubt that it affected each one of them deeply. It was upsetting, but there was nothing they could do about it. The air filled with a mournful silence.

“Do you miss your home, Twilight?”

Sky watched as the other’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a quizzical look on his face as if he couldn’t believe the question was even asked in the first place.

“‘Course I do; it’s where my friends and family are. I would give anything to see them again.”

He felt his throat tighten in response. Of course Twilight missed his home - everyone did. He’ll never forget the way Time’s face lit up when he saw Malon for the first time in ages, or the way Wind chatted endlessly about his time spent with his grandma and sister on the island, or even the way Warriors spoke about a few members of his team as if they were family to him. They all missed someone dearly back home - they all wanted to go home. He could feel an overwhelming sadness start to take over him.

“I miss them.” Sky started softly as turned his gaze to his boots. “ I miss Zelda, Pipit, Gaepora, - everyone. I miss flying around on my Loftwing, I miss going to Knight School, I miss the Wing Ceremony, I miss -” His voice caught in his throat and he could feel tears start to form in the corner of his eyes. He buried his head into his knees as his whimpers were reduced to a soft muffle. “ - I miss Skyloft.”

Twilight was at a loss for words. He knew the pain Sky was feeling and he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same way. However, before he could say anything, a piercing screech echoed through the air.

Sky’s head suddenly lifted with so much force that he surely would have headbutted someone into unconsciousness. His breath ceased as he stared wide - eyed into the distance with such intensity and concentration that it appeared that nothing other than himself and that sound existed. He knew that sound - he’s heard that sound all throughout his life - but the simple thought of one being here, in a place where they would never dare to venture to - it was nearly impossible.

Although nearly didn’t mean completely.

Without a second thought, Sky stumbled to his feet and sprinted towards the ledge of the overhang. He tugged off his sailcloth hastily, as if the sound would disappear from his memory if he took too much time to actually think the situation over.

“Hey, what are you -?”

But Twilight’s startled exclamation was lost to the wind as Sky began his descent down. From what he could tell, the call came just a little ways north of where he just was so it shouldn’t take too long for him to locate the source. He chanced a glimpse at the mass of trees below and tightened his grip on his sailcloth. The size of the forest beneath him was unnervingly large and would undoubtedly make his search a little harder if he turned out to be wrong - but he couldn’t let that thought deter him now. He would make sure he found the source of that sound no matter what, even if it took searching all of this Hyrule.

As soon as his feet lightly touched the ground, he was back into a sprint. He had half the mind to whistle to see if he could cause that cry to sound again but he couldn’t risk it in unknown territory; for all he really knew, he could have mistaken the sound for an enemy’s howl or the screech of some animal but the sound brought up so many memories from his time in Skyloft that he couldn’t think otherwise. At the sight of a blue mass flickering just outside a mass of trees, Sky felt his pace quicken at an impossible rate.

As soon as he pushed past the underbrush, he immediately came to a halting stop. Before him stood a large bird with bright blue feathers and beady yellow eyes - a Loftwing, his mind helpfully supplied. He stared in awe at the creature, his breath stolen by the feeling of wonder the bird possessed, and a million sights, sounds, and feelings bubbled up to the forefront of his mind. He could distinctly hear the cheery screech of his Crimson Loftwing as it flew to him at his whistle, the feel of its soft feathers in his grasp, the wind combing through his hair as they soared through the sky without a care in the world - it was home. However, before he could take another step, he caught sight of the mess of ropes around the bird. Tangled around its feathers and beak were strands of thick material that pinned the large creature to the ground, immobilizing it save for the few scratches its claws managed to make in the dirt. By the way it was set up, it definitely had to be a hunting trap of some sort. Sky could feel his awe start to flare outrage.

Just out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Twilight come to stuttering stop next to him, taking a moment to catch his breath. Before he could berate Sky for taking off without explanation, he caught sight of the strange bird a few meters away from them.

“What is that thing?” He wondered allowed. It was definitely something he’s never seen before and judging by its sharp beak and talons, it was definitely not something to be messed with; but before Twilight could express his concerns, Sky was already striding towards the large creature without hesitation. He watched with unease as the bird made a distressed squawking sound as it noticed the Skyloftian slowly approaching and struggled frantically against the binds holding it down.

“Shhh, it’s alright,” Sky soothed as he carefully moved his hands up in a placating gesture. He inched forward with a calm air around him, unhindered by the bird’s hectic movements; no matter how much the creature screeched in warning, he would keep moving forward. As soon as he was close enough, Sky gently grabbed onto the course rope holding the bird down and removed his carving knife from its pouch, starting to slice through the thick binds.

A sense of recognition seemed to flash in the Loftwing’s eyes and its frantic movements ceased as it eased its way back down to the ground. It watched the newcomer with weary eyes but didn’t utter another sound otherwise.

Twilight marveled at the scene. The distressed creature, easily twice the size of himself, yielded to a complete stranger with a knife. Even if the bird deduced that Sky was here to help, it didn’t explain how all hostility seemed to leave its eyes in such a quick amount of time. Maybe they’ve met before? He mused, although the notion was highly absurd.

Another bind snapped free and the Loftwing’s right wing slowly rose. It curiously watched as it flapped its limb a couple of times, almost as if it was testing to see if it still worked. Sky had caught a glimpse of a few feathers out of place and gently moved to smooth them down with an easy touch; once he was satisfied with the result, he moved to untangle the rope from the bird’s neck. He worked like that for the next few minutes, the Loftwing never once protesting.

His work was suddenly interrupted at the sound of multiple screeches piercing the air and both Twilight and the Loftwing seemed to tense in fear. The Loftwing’s once serene expression turned into a frenzied panic as it blindly flapped its wing around in an attempt to defend itself, knocking Sky off his feet. Twilight gritted his teeth in annoyance as he pulled out the Ordonian sword from his back, already moving into a defensive stance.

“Those are Aeralfos,” Twilight stated as the aforementioned enemies flew into view. “ they’re fast and hard to hit so stay on your guard.” And then a muttered: “ Wasn’t fun to fight them the first time around.”

Sky gave a curt nod, unsheathing his Master Sword and positioning it in front of him. He situated himself close to the Loftwing, determined not to let a single enemy lay a claw on the bird.

Before they knew it, the enemies were diving towards the clearing they stood in, a fierce snarl on their faces. The Aeralfos flew with such precision and accuracy that it was hard to even land a hit on them, nevermind actually attack them. Sky managed to scratch a few as they sped past him but other than that, his attempts were fruitless. One second, they would take a stab at the hero, managing to nick his clothes or land a slice on his arms, and in the next, they would take off to the sky and ready themselves for another attack. It was dizzying to him; he’s never seen an enemy move so quickly in such short a time. He glanced at Twilight to see how he was managing.

He was defending himself almost perfectly, moving about skillfully as if he’s been battling Aeralfos all his life. He swiftly dodged a stab to the head before rapidly spinning and slicing an enemy diagonally across the chest; it fell with a deafening screech and disappeared into black ashes. Not even a second later, another enemy attacked from behind and Twilight responded with a quick crouch, turn of the heel, and a stab of his sword through the monster’s neck before it also met the same fate. Every movement was calculated - perfectly executed - and it showed.

Just as Sky drove another enemy away, he heard the Loftwing give out a distressed screech. Fearing the worst, he quickly whipped around to see an Aeralfo’s clawed hand rip through a few of its feathers. A sudden sense of rage overtook him and he rushed at the foe with ferocity; before the other could react, Sky raised his sword skyward before bringing it down through the enemy, another howl of pain joining the chorus of the battle. He smiled triumphantly as he watched the monster before him disappear to a pile of dust. Unfortunately, another Aeralfo saw Sky’s distracted state as chance to attack and charged towards the hero with its claws poised to kill. Sky felt a surge of panic race through his mind as he knew he wouldn’t be able to defend himself in time but just as he was ready to take the hit, a large gray wolf leapt up and seized the enemy by the neck, killing it in an instant.

“Thank you, Wolfie.” Sky sighed in relief. The wolf responded with a huff before turning to attack again.

Sky grimaced at the red gash across the Loftwing’s body; thankfully, it didn’t look too deep. Just before he could turn to join the fight again, he saw some of the rope holding down the Loftwing snap and fall loosely around the bird. It rose to its full height and spread its wings before moving in a panic, clearly still frightened by the enemies.

In an attempt to calm the Loftwing down, Sky held his hands in a placating gesture and tried to soothe the bird once again. He heard the snarl of an Aeralfo behind him followed by a wolf’s bark and he caught sight of yet another enemy dissipate into ash. Despite the relief Sky felt, the Loftwing only became more frightened and flapped its wings about faster, most likely aggravating the injuries it already had. Sky frowned. Seeing no other option, he leapt onto the Loftwing’s back and took hold of the Skyloftian reins circling its body, trying desperately to regain control; however, the bird responded by lifting itself and its rider into the air albeit unsteadily. Sky was taken aback by the sudden movement and held onto the blue feathers for dear life as the bird flew about erratically. Again, he tried to calm the creature but his soft words were drowned out by the frantic screeching. Suddenly, the bird dove down into the fight below and plucked the gray wolf off the ground, earning a surprised yelp. It took the Skyloftian and wolf into the air and flapped its wings irregularly as it soared. Behind them, they could see the Aeralfos start to take flight as well.

Loftwings aren’t meant to fly during the night, Sky recalled as he felt his stomach drop at the sudden altitude change. Ever since they ascended into the air, the Loftwing changed elevation every two seconds or so and despite all his flying experience, the constant motion was starting to make him sick. From what Sky could observe, one wing flapped faster than the other, causing the bird to make uneven turns and unnecessary dives; it also didn’t help that they were being chased down by enemies capable of flight. He didn’t quite know what to do. Jumping off with his sailcloth would definitely save himself but he wasn’t too sure what Wolfie’s or even the Loftwing’s fate would entail; other than that, there were no other options than to attempt to fly to safety. Sky was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts as he heard the sound of angry snarls accompanied by monstrous faces right behind him. In a split - second decision, he took hold of the bird’s reins and leaned to the side, just narrowly avoiding a sword to the head. That must have put too much weight on one of the bird’s sides because the next thing he knew, they were flying sideways towards the forest floor below. He then pulled the reins up to lift the bird once again, hearing the creature squawk in surprise before changing direction. He smirked as that sudden movement caused some of the Aeralfos to crash into the underbrush below. However, his relief was short - lived as he saw the remaining enemies get even angrier and speed up by an unimaginable amount. He eyed the remaining monsters warily. For a brief moment, he thought about taking out the Master Sword and defending the three of them that way but that would surely leave the bird without a pilot and most likely lead to all three of their deaths. But before he could come up with another plan, he saw the moonlight enshrouding them suddenly disappear and the enemies slow their pace. Albeit a little confused, he grinned triumphantly, glad to see that they were no longer being chased. When he turned his attention back to the front, he didn’t even have two seconds to notice the wall of rock in front of him before he made impact and lost consciousness.

________________________________________________________________

Once again, Sky dreamt about memories of the past. He dreamt about falling endlessly through a black abyss only for a purple light to break through the overwhelming darkness, a distant voice informing him that he had a dire mission that needed to be completed; he dreamt about waking up to Gaepora’s worried expression hovering over him and the look of anguish that painted his face as he was informed that his daughter was missing, most likely trapped somewhere on the Surface; he dreamt about following the mystical voice that echoed in his head, leading him to the Goddess’s Sword as well as Fi. He regarded the spirit with apprehension as she introduced herself; however, when Fi informed him that Zelda was still alive, he felt hope swell in his chest. He was informed that he was Hylia’s chosen hero - that he was the only one that could stop the demon Demise from his terrible reign. As he raised the sword skyward, he felt an overwhelming sense of power and courage course through him and together with Fi, they journeyed towards the Surface, ready for any tribulation they would face.

Sky slowly blinked his eyes open to the fuzzy world around him. He could tell it was somewhat dark here and small brown smudges littered the area along with an oddly - colored blue smudge a bit closer to him. The more he stared at the blots, the more they came into focus and soon the brown blurs turned into rocks and the blue mass shaped itself into a scabbard with the Master Sword tucked into it. Funny, he doesn’t remember falling asleep here. He racked his brain for answers but he found that the harder he thought, the harder a headache pounded in his head. He mindlessly reached out to the Master Sword, grabbing the hilt with a weak grip and begging for Fi to come out and explain the situation he had gotten himself into. He let his eyes fall close as he let a breathless “Fi…” escape his lips.

Instead of a mystical voice answering, he heard a set of footsteps walk briskly towards him and a set of scratches scurry away from him. When no other sound was made, Sky managed to open his eyes just in time to see Twilight’s apprehensive expression morph into a relieved smirk.

“Glad to see you’re okay.”

‘Okay’ was a bit of an overstatement. Although Twilight’s voice was at a normal talking level, Sky couldn’t help but wince as a jolting pain shot through his skull, no doubt a result of the splitting headache he had. With a soft tsk, Twilight searched through one of the pouches on his belt and brought out a glass half - full with a red potion.

“Here,” He began quieter, offering the bottle to the Skyloftian. “ it’s not much but it should help a little.”

With a shaky hand, Sky took the bottle and let its contents dribble down his throat. Within a few seconds, the pain in his head lessened to a manageable amount and he was able to muster enough strength to push himself off the ground and lean heavily against what felt like rocks behind him. He glanced to Twilight again, about to thank him, until a nasty - looking cut caught his attention.

“Your face…” He rasped.

Twilight’s smile dropped into a pout. “ Well you’re not looking too good with that huge bruise on your head either.”

He had a bruise on his head? That cleared up a few questions. “ Where are we?”

“A cave in the cliffside,” Twilight began as he made to stand up. He regarded the area with caution, almost as if he was expecting something to come out and attack them. “ the bird you helped took us into the air and flew away but the Aeralfos had the bright idea to chase us down anyways. A big chunk of them ended up crashing into trees and rocks so we got most of them off our tail; only downside is we ended up crashing into this cave, too. I just got a couple of scratches, the bird looks fine, but you ended up smashing your head on that rock wall over there.” He took a second to point his head towards a nearby set of boulders before returning to observe the injury that stood out so prominently against the Skyloftian’s tan skin. “ You’ve been out for two hours; we should really get back to camp to have the Old Man take a look at you.”

Sky nodded, his head tipping just a little too forward for his liking. As he started to stand up, he felt a heavy hand push him back down.

“Easy, we’re still surrounded. We did ditch a lot of those Aeralfos back there but there’s a good number of them flying around, probably searching for us. I don’t have a bow on me so we really can’t do anything right now - we just have to wait until they leave.” With that said, he walked back to the opening of the cave, eyeing the sky cautiously; at least the rising sun made it a little bit easier to see now. As he crouched down, Sky could hear him mutter “the Old Man is going to kill me”.

Sky mulled over the recount, connecting Twilight’s summary with his own muddled memories. The fight, the Loftwing - speaking of Loftwing, he heard the same sound of scratches echo through the cave again and he shifted his gaze sideways to see the bright blue Loftwing inching towards him. It moved about curiously, moving its head every which way almost as if it was trying to investigate the situation itself. When it got close enough to Sky, it picked at his clothes and hair and made curious sounds every so often. He chuckled as it nuzzled his neck before returning to look at him inquisitively and Sky would be lying if he said it didn’t remind him of his own Crimson Loftwing back home.

“It looks like that bird really likes you.” Twilight stated with a soft smile.

“Yeah,” A fond smile crossed his lips as he felt the bird nudge his side again. “ Hylia gave us these Loftwings as a sign of protection. As little children, we meet our Loftwing under the Statue of the Goddess; once we find the right one, we feel complete, like we found our other half.” He smoothed over the blue feathers; a few of them were displaced but the bird’s coat looked relatively alright. Once he caught sight of its talons, a few of his memories started to clash with Twilight’s earlier summary. “ Twilight, where’s Wolfie?”

Twilight immediately jumped at the question, turning to meet Sky’s questioning gaze. “ Huh? What do you mean?”

“Before we took flight, I remember the Loftwing grabbing onto Wolfie.” He paused for a moment, the headache threatening to come back as he thought harder but he continued regardless. “ Now that I think about it, I don’t remember the Loftwing taking you -”

“I’m the one the bird grabbed; I was fighting a few Aeralfos before it swooped in and took me.” He answered back hastily. He saw the confliction cross the other’s face so he quickly covered up with a more firm: “ You hit your head pretty hard so it looks like some of your memories got messed up; just take a nap and I’ll wake you up when we’re ready to move.”

Although not completely satisfied with the response, Sky heeded his advice anyways, leaning against the bulky rock wall as he felt the need to sleep overtake him. He glimpsed tiredly to the Loftwing’s curious gaze one more time before catching sight of its tied tail. It was still heavily bunched up in rope and if Sky’s assumption was correct, that may have caused the lack of stability on their flight. Although he was deeply tired, he still reached for his carving knife again and shifted to have a good hold on the Loftwing’s tail. The bird tensed at the sudden contact but did nothing more as it watched Sky cut through what remained of the trap.

When the last bind snapped off, the bird unfurled and furled its tail a couple of times, similar to what it first did with its wings. Satisfied with his handiwork, Sky let out a long sigh and curled back onto the ground, using his sailcloth as a blanket; he was determined to get some amount of sleep, even if it was just for a few minutes. However, before he could do so, he yelped in surprise as he felt the Loftwing violently yank on his clothes, instantly making him alert. He sat up in a panic but that clearly wasn’t enough for the Loftwing because it pulled at his clothes again, hauling the disorientated Skyloftian to his feet. The bird sounded as he gripped onto its neck to steady himself and the call reverberated throughout the entire cave, causing Twilight to look back in concern. The bird suddenly crouched down and Sky fell onto its back with a thud before it gently shook to ease the rider onto its back. Despite Sky’s bewildered look, the bird rose up and started to flap its wings, causing small clouds of dust to rise up. Sky tightened his grip as the flapping became more frequent and soon enough, he felt the bird moving its long legs towards the opening of the cave.

Twilight immediately rose to his feet as he saw the creature near him. He spread his arms out in an attempt to block its path and scowled as he yelled out: “Hey -!”

But he was quickly cut off as the Loftwing abruptly grabbed him by the scruff of his tunic and placed him on its back, just behind the disconcerted Sky.

With only a few flaps of its wings as a warning, the Loftwing pushed off the cave’s ledge and took to the air at an incredible speed. Sky gripped onto the reins as soon as they changed altitude and he felt Twilight behind him hold onto the back of his tunic in a death grip. As he looked down below, he was astounded to see how much height they had gained in such little time. From what he could see, there were a few Aeralfos glaring angrily at them with a few starting to chase the bird; fortunately, their speed was no longer a match for the Loftwing’s steady ascension. Before he knew it, they passed through a layer of clouds and he felt the water vapor gently spray over his face. As soon as he felt the drop in his stomach settle, he looked past the Loftwing’s head to see the sight ahead of him.

Before him stood an endless sea of blue sky with the sun casting a soft glow across the land as it rose to start the day. Countless bundles of clouds lie underneath them and just as many floated lazily above. The cool air caressed his face and tousled his hair and he felt that same feeling of home he had felt before when they first escaped the forest clearing. With years of practice coming to the forefront of his mind, he eased his grip on the reins and leaned to the side, feeling the bird underneath him recognize his movement and gently shift its wings so they flew at an angle. The weightlessness, the feeling of rushing air, the calmness that came with weaving between the air currents - all those feelings rushed back to him as if he was meeting with a long - lost friend. He flew in silence for a few minutes, just admiring the tranquility it brought him.

A sudden shrill whistle caused his breath to hitch. That sound - he could place that sound at a moment’s notice: it was the sound of a Skyloftian calling their Loftwing. They were close to Skyloft, he realized and although he knew that there was something deeply wrong with that statement - that Skyloft shouldn’t be this low in the sky, that Skyloft shouldn’t be possible to get to without a Bird Statue - he couldn’t help the sudden homesickness that rushed through him. Throughout his journey with the other Links, he never went a single day without thinking about returning home - even when he was sent off on his own quest by Goddess Hylia herself, he still thought about his home every day. Groose’s constant teasing, Owlan droning on about the various plant life in SkyLoft, Zelda’s airy laugh as she teased him about being late to the Knight Academy again - he missed everyone so dearly, and now - finally - he had the chance to go back home.

As he signalled for the Loftwing to fly higher, he felt the grip around his tunic tighten. He glanced back to see Twilight looking down with a frightened expression and Sky felt his heart drop. He can’t go home, not until him and the other Links figure out why they were brought together. He believed in his Goddess and he knew that she wouldn’t merge timelines and dimensions together if it wasn’t for a reason, and there had to be a good reason.

He turned his head back hastily to the front. But he was so close to home! He could practically feel Skyloft’s soft ground! Maybe he could go to Gaepora and explain the situation - see if he could give him some guidance - or maybe find Zelda and see if the Goddess sent her any messages of what’s going on, or maybe reawaken Fi - she would certainly be a valuable asset to their team. His grip tightened on the reins again. Maybe he’s not meant to be back in Skyloft yet. There has to be a reason as to why throughout the past months, they had visited everyone else’s land except for his. Maybe his arrival… might not be what Hylia wants. He’s meant to stay with the other heroes - he’s meant to follow their travel regardless of what he thinks or feels. He has wants and needs and desires but his mission always comes first.

Another whistle sounded through the air, this time louder and longer. They were getting close to Skyloft now. He hesitated, mulling his decision one last time before bowing his head in sad realization. He can’t abandon his mission.

“Let Hylia guide you safely back to Skyloft.” He sadly whispered as he let his fingers graze over the plumage one last time. He heard the Loftwing give a soft coo, almost as if it was disappointed to see its rider leave, but he didn’t have a choice. He tugged at the sailcloth wrapped around his back and gripped it in his two hands. He swiveled around again and asked with a louder voice: “ Are you ready to leave, Twilight?”

The other’s eyes widened fearfully and he was starting to wonder if Sky actually did lose his mind when he hit his head. Just as he was about to protest, he felt the soft feathers from underneath him disappear and his stomach dropped at the sudden feeling of weightlessness. He didn’t even realize he closed his eyes until he opened them again to see that he was now gently drifting through the air. He looked up to see Sky gazing at the Loftwing with a sentimental look as it disappeared into the clouds - almost like the same look Twilight gave at the sight of dusk: a longing, fond expression. Once the bird was gone, they slowly began their descent down, drifting their way back to camp.

#linkeduniverse #hero of the sky #hero of twilight #fanfic

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nadziejastar · 6 years ago

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Luna Diviner is only Saix's title in the English localization. In the original Japanese his title is Tsuki ni Mau Majin which translates to Demoniac Dancing in the Moon. Just something to keep in mind, but it does fit well with Axel being the Flurry of Dancing Flames.

Oooh, good catch. That is something I missed. It’s kind of like the Recusant’s Sigil. It’s not called that in the Japanese version, but it still fits pretty well. As for Saix, I like the Japanese one even better.

I mean, that title, though.

“Demoniac Dancing in the Moon”

demoniac:

of, like, or characteristic of a demon or demons.

a person believed to be possessed by an evil spirit.

Oh, but Saix was totally in control of himself the whole time. *eyeroll*

Anyways I really appreciate you pointing that out. It’s a really cool detail that I missed. They both refer to dancing in their titles. I just realized something totally awesome thanks to you and it happens to fit perfectly with the post I was actually working on. I’m pretty sure that both titles are a reference to Shiva.

Flurry of Dancing Flames seems like a reference to one of Shiva’s most famous depictions in a circle of flames known as “Lord of the Dance”. This dance is masculine and usually manifests anger. According to Hindu legend, Shiva almost caused the end of the universe by performing this flaming dance after his soon-to-be-wife committed suicide. Sati became engaged to Shiva, but when her father disapproved of their marriage, she threw herself into the flames, praying to one day be reborn as a daughter to a father she could respect.

When Sati self-immolated, Shiva couldn’t control his anger and pain. He covered his entire body with her ashes as a sign that she will be with him forever. He then went into meditation for many years, ignoring all his godly duties, causing imbalance in the world. It was not until Sati was reborn as the goddess Parvati that Shiva finally came out of meditation. So according to Hinduism, the dance of flames symbolizes the cosmic cycles of creation and destruction, as well as birth and death. Just like the Phoenix.

Saix has a weapon called Twilight. It is distinctly shaped like a trident. In Hinduism, it’s called the trishula. This is actually an unused palette swap of the one in-game. I think they went with the green one for a specific reason, but I don’t see the harm in analyzing this one, since it was fully rendered and all.

The weapon is emanating a white and violet aura. The violet-white aura combination is the display of all aura colors in perfect balance. This aura personality operates primarily from the Crown chakra. Typically, this color is ordained as a vessel or conduit to channel messages of sacred wisdom. It is present in people who proactively maintain communion with their Divine Source.

In Hinduism, the trident symbolizes control of the mind, intellect, and ego. It also represents the three aspects of consciousness—waking, dreaming and sleeping. In the human body, the trident ALSO represents the place where the main energy channels meet at the brow. The left and right channels are called Ida and Pingala. Their union symbolizes the union of Shiva and Shakti.

The Ida and Pingala represent the basic duality of existence. The left is Ida. It’s white, feminine, cold, and represents the moon. It impacts the right hemisphere of the brain, and it is symbolically represented by the feminine aspect of energy known as Shakti.

The right side is Pingala. It’s red, masculine, hot, and represents the sun. Not surprisingly, it is associated with Shiva and the left side of the brain. These energies rise up the body, until they reach the Third Eye chakra right in the middle of the brow. The Third Eye is the key. It connects with the highest chakra, the Crown chakra. This is the direct connection to the Higher Self, or the Spirit. The top two chakras are basically seen as the two representing higher consciousness. They’re the most spiritual chakras.

That’s why you’ll see the red dot, right in between the eyebrows. ॐ means the heart, body, and soul are connected. It is in essence the symbol of consciousness itself. The writers chose to place a Recusant’s Sigil directly over the ॐ. So, not only does Saix have an “X” on his literal third eye, but also on his weapon’s third eye too. That tells you all you need to know about whether Isa’s consciousness existed inside of his Nobody—and how Isa’s original personality had to be totally eradicated in order to create Saix.

It’s things like this that make me SO annoyed with the terrible retconning. And why I don’t think the direction they took Saix in KH3 is the slightest bit convincing. It’s not like I can just NOT notice stuff like this, LOL. The message is loud and clear. Saix is mind-controlled. Cut off from his very Spirit.

Even the name “Twilight” fits this idea perfectly. It’s defined as “a period or state of obscurity, ambiguity, or gradual decline.” It really does irritate me that they put all of this cool symbolism in, only to have it be thrown away. I bet the writers were very upset, after they put so much effort in to make everything meaningful.

Anyways, Parvati is the wife of the Hindu Shiva. She is the Hindu goddess of fertility, love, beauty, marriage, children, and devotion. She is gentle and nurturing. As stated, she is also the reincarnation of Shiva’s first wife Sati.

Shiva and Parvati merge together and exist as the same being called Ardhanarishvara. It is depicted as half-male and half-female, equally split down the middle. Ardhanarishvara represents the synthesis of the masculine and feminine energies of the universe and illustrates how the female principle is inseparable from the male principle.

And Parvati actually has her own dance, like Shiva does. And it’s the opposite of Shiva’s dance. It expresses happiness and is filled with grace and beauty. She is believed to have danced in response to the male energy of the dance performed by Shiva. The two dances symbolize the cycles of creation and destruction, birth and death.

However, some Hindu stories present alternate aspects of Parvati. Shakti is pure energy; untamed, unchecked and chaotic. There are some ferocious and violent aspects of Shakti. This is symbolized by the goddess Kali, known as the black goddess. Parvati transforms into Kali, initially at the request of Shiva, to destroy an asura. Basically a demon. Even after destroying the demon, Kali’s wrath could not be controlled. It turns her into a dark, blood-thirsty, goddess of death.

She is often portrayed dancing on top of her husband, Shiva, who lies prostrate beneath her. Many of those portrayals depict her sticking out her tongue, which some say is an indication of her surprise and embarrassment at discovering that she is actually trampling on her husband. According to the stories, Shiva appeared as a crying baby to stop Kali’s rage. The cries of the baby raised the maternal instinct of Kali who changes back to her gentle form as Parvati. So, even a goddess of love like Parvati has a possessed demonic dance.

Thanks to this realization I had about Kali, I remembered that one of Xaldin’s weapons is named Asura. After that I took a closer look at everyone’s weapons again, and I think I finally realize the FULL meaning of them now. It ALL makes sense. I don’t know how it took me so long to see it. And I’m gonna have to make a post about that now, too.

#kh #kh meta #anti-kh3 #h saix #kh isa #kingdom hearts meta #kingdom hearts 358/2 days #akusai #leaisa #kh isalea #kingdom hearts

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kamyle · 4 years ago

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Glass Half Full (Final)

Kamyle Lomax

Profile Essay

November 8, 2020

ENGL 1102

Profile Essay: Glass Half Full

The English composition course that I am enrolled in this semester at Kennesaw State University, is solely structured around a course long profile project. This project consists of 3 major components: an interview, a source log, and a profile essay. Throughout the duration of this course we have been required to complete a series of assignments that have constructed the entirety of this profile. For my profile project, I have chosen to interview and research my wondrous, intelligent, and wholehearted mother, Mrs. Yvonne Lomax.

My interviewee is a 53-year-old sales manager, born and raised in Dayton, Ohio, often describe to as a “shero” by her loved ones. She is the mother of both me and my 31-year-old brother, Gary. We all live in Douglasville, GA and are an extremely close-knit family. My mother and I are very close and open with each other, so I was eager to see the things she should disclose to me within the interview process of this project.

As I sat anxiously, preparing to interview my mother, she sat across from me at our wood and marble dining room table, smoking her cigarette and watching CNN, awaiting my que to begin.

Once I press play on the voice memo app on my phone the interview begins and I said, “Welcome to the 2020 profile project interview with my mother, Yvonne Lomax”. My mother hesitates to introduce herself so then I asked, “aren’t you going to say something?”, jokingly and we both laugh.

She then goes on to graciously acknowledge her presence, “Hello everyone, I’m excited for the interview, Let’s get started Kamyle!”, she said eagerly. Picking up her glass of Pinot Grigio she then laughed at me calling her a “Great Co-Host”, she then ensured me that she was not my Co-Host she was my guest and we both laughed.

With CNN muted in the background, our dinner plates and wine glasses half full pushed to the side of us, I initiated the first interview question, “The first question that I have for you is, what is your fondest childhood memory?”, I asked eager to know which memory she would share.

Immediately after my asking the question, I observed my mother look to the sky in search for clarity on exactly which memory was fondest to her. Once the moment dawned on her, I could tell she began to reminisce and the became evident when she initiated the illuminative discussion regarding the wondrous childhood she and her younger sister shared.

After wandering through the past my mother shared her fondest memory by stating that, “If I had to think of what my fondest childhood memory was I would have to say it was being 14 years old headed to my freshman year in high school and my sister was 12, our father took us on a trip to New Orleans, Louisiana”. My mother continues to illustrate this trip she describes as her fondest memory. She recounts that her father had them staying in the Hyatt Regency at the Superdome, detailing that the hotel had shopping centers, movie theaters and restaurants, which she had never seen before, depicting the astonishing scenery of the place they boarded while on this trip.

Although the hotel was extravagant, I discovered that what really embedded into my 14-year-old mothers’ memory was the fact that she, her father and sister were actually staying at this beautiful establishment with Michael Jackson, whom she saw in the lobby. So, in fact it may have been the entirety of the trip that made it memorable, it was more over the presence of the legend Michael Jackson that influenced her to disclose this trip as her fondest memory. My mother ends her answer by saying, “And of course I love Michael Jackson”, and second that by agreeing, saying, “Well who doesn’t”.

As I prepared to ask my next question, the thought of how lucky my mother and aunt were to have had met The King of Pop. I have loved Michael Jackson since I was a very small child, and not just his music but his eagerness to stand out and be different unapologetically. I could not help to think if my love for this icon rooted from my mother’s experiences, parts of me wandered off thinking maybe my mother exposed me to his music very early on.

Surprisingly, I remember Michael Jacksons death aside from my grandmothers being one of my first experiences with death. I vaguely recollect my mother comforting my 7-year-old soul by telling me this very story and I was in complete awe.

I decided to go on by connecting the inquiry about her childhood and how good an upbringing it appeared she had, I directed the connection to discover if there was any stage or year of life my mother had a desire to relive or change. With no urge to vacillate, my mother bites her lip as she gathers her words and goes on to say, “Oh God, that is an easy question! I would relive my freshman year of college”.

I respond with, “Okay, why’s that?”, and my mother began to explain, “Well I made a lot of mistakes my freshman year... to keep it real I wasn’t serious, I did a lot of partying, I was put on academic probation and my mom made me come home for school, which honestly defeated the whole purpose”. As she continued to explain why she would relive this year of her life, she goes to detail what she would do differently.

To further illuminate this period of her journey, she went into a brief spiel, “See I always wanted to go to an HBCU, I wanted to go to Grambling State University located in Louisiana which is where my dad was from. My dad was all down with me going to an HBCU, especially Grambling since it was in Louisiana but he had just died shortly after I graduated Highschool… and after he passed away, I just think my mom wanted to keep her children closer”, she said.

Throughout this conversation my mother emphasizes on the prediction that if granted the decision to attend the institution of her choice she would have been more successful in her academics, she says, “I would have better seized the opportunity, taken better advantage, if I wasn’t forced to be somewhere I didn’t want to be”.

Getting this story to its entirety showed me why my mother has done everything in her power to provide my brother and I with a sense of choice and independency. It showed why my mother willing accepted my choice to transfer back home in the middle of my freshman year and my brother’s choice not to pursue a degree but to follow his dream in music. Although she explains she would relive this year if given the choice, my mother ensures she knows it is how things were meant to be.

I quickly transition into my next question, “Since you’re saying this, do you believe that everything is written in the universe or are we really choosing the life we live?”, I followed this up by saying, “So do you think that you going to the University of Cincinnati and not going to Grambling was written in the universe or did that just happen because your mom didn’t let you go?”. Confidently my mother replies, “That was definitely written in the universe, because of me going to UC I was able to meet my sons dad, which I never would’ve met him if I went to Grambling… everyone that is on this earth is meant to be here so that definitely is written in the universe… it was a part of my blueprint”.

After this conversation, we had both loosened up a little, our glasses were waiting to be refilled and the smell of incenses roamed the atmosphere and in this moment I chose to switch the narrative and get some insight on my mother’s spirituality. With no hesitation I asked her, “What was the most power moment of your life?”, immediately her beautiful brown eyes had gotten bright and bold as if I had awakened something within her, in aw she responded, “Oh Wow, I have something good for this one”.

My mother then began to narrate me through a stage of her life she referred to as a transition, where she had been flight attending for about a year and she was conflicted with herself, because she knew that ultimately she did not want to be a flight attendant. In telling the story my mother explains that on a flight from Detroit, Michigan to Canada she found herself working with a flight attendant named Michael (like the arc angel) who she described to be an angel, she says, “I knew it was written in the universe for me to hold that role for a year because I met an angel on a flight and I know it was an angel because later I discovered that the person did not exist”.

Seconds after she began to disclose her clairvoyance, a phone in our background began to ring, we were so engaged, neither of us attempted to silence it as she revealed her encounters with her guardian angel. She portrays him as the most attractive man she had ever seen and recounts that they connected immediately and carried on about a various of topics but mostly their spiritual beliefs, for the duration of the flight.

During this maybe hour and a half flight, the mysterious Michael and my mother shared an intense and intellectual conversation. They shared dreams, interest, and their outlook on life overall with each other. She explained that they shared the common interest of a certain book by Sandra Brown, and the two of them distinctly discussed the novel.

My mom explains that after the flight she and Michael parted ways. The next morning on her flight back to Detroit, she discovered that same novel that they has discussed day before, named “The other side” by Sandra Brown, on her jump seat, “I immediately began to freak out.”, she said, of course due to the fact that she and her guardian angel (Michael) had shared various works of Sandra Brown and their liking to it. Once she returned to Detroit, she began to search for this mystery man in her company’s directory where she found no traces of him.

My mother expanded on this experience by added that 2 months later she had been terminated and she was having an one on one with God for hours, asking him for clarity and guidance, she says, “I talked to God for hours… I remember saying, “if you are with me, show me” and right when I said that the television just cut on”.

Later on, in the interview she connects this moment with the reason I was conceived 7 months later when I asked, “who do you feel most connected to spiritually out of your family and friends?”. The connection in these times of her life really helped me realize why my mother has called me her life saver all my life. In retrospect, my mother connects my being born to her life being put back on track. Her guardian angel gifted her with me. I believe my birth did add balance to our family, now that I am grown, I see how much I have held our family connections and dynamic together.

While interviewing my mother, I discovered that she is extremely in touch with her intuitive senses. This urged me to research what clairvoyance was and how it connected to the aspects of spiritual experiences.

On my search for information I came upon a website for a clairvoyance sanctuary which described exactly what clairvoyance was. The article, “What is Clairvoyance?”, was published by the Clairvoyant Center of Hawaii which is a sanctuary and physic school. They offer clairvoyant training and readings; this alone makes the source credible, being that this center specializes in the subject matter.

Substantially, this source gives clarity on the clairvoyant event my interviewee experienced. It illuminates the fact spirits and energy can resonate themselves through inanimate objects. Overall, this article underlines the meaning and background of clairvoyance, shining a light on its appearance. The website said clairvoyance means, “clear-seeing”, it is intertwined with your intuitive 6th sense and spiritual eye which allows one to see energy.

Clairvoyants can use their 6th charka to resonate energy in the form of colors, pictures, images, light, and movement. To be clairvoyant is a psychic ability. Everyone has the capability to experience the powerful and magical realms of clairvoyance. It influences individuals to be in touch with their interior being and it also influences the decisions we make. Either people are in touch with their clairvoyance or they believe this theory is imaginary.

I now know my mother on a completely different level. She is someone who overcame tremendous grief and misguidance in her youth. My mom has taken her experiences and wrongdoings to learn and succeed in life. Unlike most, she has not let life break her down. My mother is the most selfless person I know.

Doing this interview helped me understand why she has done everything possible to ensure she can help those who are at their lowest. She has been the storm and she is aware of how bad life can hit an individual at times. In my opinion, Yvonne Lomax has been the guardian angel to many. [l1]

My mother experienced the death of her father at the age of 18 weeks after she graduated from high school. My grandfather died of a heart attack at the age of 73 while at church in the pulpit. I remember my mother telling me the story about how her sister and she declined going to church with their father on this Sunday. We shortly discussed the death of her father and how it affected her freshman year of college tremendously.

I wanted to further understand how the death of a parent truly effects the adolescence. While researching I discovered an article written by two psychology professors titled, “Understanding Grief and Loss in Children”, the article taught and analyzed how adolescence deal with grief. Secondly, the article references credible sources from child psychologists, and it was published by the ACA Knowledge Center.

This source exemplifies the problem in the way our society shelters children from death by not providing them ways to cope. In a land of make believe, children are not capable of feeling depressed or experiencing trauma. This exact theory contributes to the fundamental problem that affects the way our society deals with death; we have a death-phobic culture. Using code names for death like “passed away”.

Greif and loss can occur not only when it is the end of something but also when there is a disruption in a child’s life, such as marriage, divorce, death, rand relocating. Mourning can include keeping the spirits of the deceased alive, not just merely processing the experience. The types of loses children can experience varies tremendously, this includes both tangible and intangible loses. Children should be provided with proper interventions that will allow them to sufficiently process their feelings. Essentially, this article connects the traumas my interviewee must have experienced after the loss of her father.

The entirety of the interview with my mother mainly focuses on the how the blueprint of her life has unfolded over the years. My mom’s extreme faith that everything happens for a reason influenced me to do some research on universal synchronization where I discovered 2 sources that describe the reality of coincidence and universal alignment.

The first source, “Coming to Terms with Coincidence” was accessed on the KSU research database, the article was written by Ralph Lewis, M.D., who is a psychiatrist at Sunnybrook Health Sciences Centre in Toronto, Canada. The article illustrates the distinct connection between life events and destiny. For example, the article touches on a flight attendant who by fate was not on board her normal flight which crashed into the twin towers.

My interviewee discussed complications in her flight schedule in her story about meeting her spirit angel. Its shows that indeed the experiences we encounter have a deeper purpose in our journey. This article better explains the phrase "everything happens for a reason". It gives four major examples of life events that helped the individuals involved find their purpose. Things that happen in life do not happen to us by chance but because it was destined for us. Some people believe that bad things are happening because they are being punished for their wrong doings. The things that happen to you happen because that is the way God planned it to unfold in your life.

The second source was published onto a blog called “Dreamcatcher reality” by the creator who is a spiritualist and astrologist. The authors blog primarily focuses on the unspoken truths of the universe, for example, universal synchronization and fate. This article illustrates the depth to which our life experiences are connected to the universe and our destiny. It clarifies that my interviewees belief that her destiny was written in the stars is not so farfetched.

Finally, the article helps the readers gain clarity on fate and destiny. Universal Synchronization is simply described as coincidence. The events in our life are solely based on the positive energies within which we have no control over. Nothing important happens in life merely by accident. Things are aligned so that we experience the things that are supposed to happen.

Synchronicity is when the person you were just on verge of calling, calls you first. Events unfold to ultimately manifest the inevitable. Luck and coincidence show how the universe is interconnected through matter and space. Life is a series of numerous events that are aligned for our souls’ journey.

Throughout[l2] the interview I learned that my mother has lived life to its fullest extent and took everything that it threw at her heads on with positive energy. That is why I choose the title, “Glass Half Full”, because my mother looks at the brighter side of any situation and makes the most of it. Even though life did not go as plan according to her, she still took the life God presented to her and made it the best life for herself and her children.

I discovered that everything my mother experienced in life has led to an even bigger picture. My grandfather who was all for my mother making her own decisions died right before her first year in college, causing her not to be able to make the choice for a school on her own and although she didn’t attend the university she intended on, she met my brothers dad at the school she eventually ended up at. In retrospect, my brother’s existence was dependent on this life decision.

To second this, my mom describes how during the period of her being a flight attendant, she was not exactly excited with having to pursue this career but at the end of the day it seemed like her main purpose for this brief period in her journey was to become in touch with her spirit guides so she could transition into her next chapter in life.

I understand that a couple of months after experiencing a connection with her guardian angel on a flight, my mother was terminated and 7 months after that I was conceived. Within these few months, my mother received several signs while praying and asking God to guide her down the right path and to send her a miracle. Ultimately, this interview with my mother revealed to me how everything my mother has encountered is connected to a bigger purpose.

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imhereforbvcky · 7 years ago

Text

I Can’t Go Back To Yesterday Because I Was A Different Person Then - Part 2

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 3

Summary: While in the field, Steve and Bucky come across the handiwork of an old cohort of Bucky’s. He must figure out how to reconcile his past with his present.

Warnings: swearing, mission violence/assassination

Word Count: 2113

Author’s Note: 3 part mini series, last part queued for tomorrow so no series tags.

Previously…

“Why are you so keen on keeping her alive?” Natasha cut in. She eyed Bucky carefully, studying his face for any reaction, any hint at who this Queen of Hearts was to Bucky Barnes. “Who is she?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched immediately. The muscle in his cheek did that little twitch it always does when he’s stressed or anxious, when he feels like he’s being backed into a corner, when he feels caged in. Bucky Barnes had always had a terrible poker face.

“She helped me escape HYDRA once.”

Madrid, several years earlier…

Bucky moved with determined purpose through the halls of the hotel. Or more accurately, the Winter Soldier did. His orders were simple: assassinate, no witnesses. The information on the target came in a neat dossier that included several photos, basic information about the target, his schedule while in Madrid, and his hotel information.

Despite the need to blend in, the soldier had been handed his usual gear: thick black leather jacket and black cargo pants packed full of any equipment he might need for any number of unforeseen complications. He’d strapped the several holsters to his body, loading firearm after firearm, followed by a host of knives. His uniform never changed, and it didn’t matter the situation.

He’d waited at the service entrance, took down an unsuspecting member of hotel staff and slipped in the door. He moved quickly up the stairs, the determined and menacing look quickly terrified anyone he encountered until he was skulking down the hall toward the door he’d read about in his dossier.

When the door was in sight, the familiar stifled pop of a handgun with a suppressor cut through the quiet hall. It still sounded distinctly like gunfire and without the flash of the explosive gunpowder. Most would assume someone was watching some James Bond flick with the volume way too loud.

But he knew, and within seconds he’d kicked the door open and slid into the room, his own weapon raised and sweeping the room. His eyes fell first on his target, fallen backward onto his bed with a bullet hole through his skull and blood spreading in a dark stain across the mattress.

Next, he spotted the bodyguard slumped over the desk, in no better condition with two shots through the chest. Continuing his sweep with a heightened sense of urgency he finally reached her. A lithe figure, standing bold as you please, with her shoulders squared, holding her 9mm aimed firmly at him. The thick suppressor weighed the gun differently, but she held it steady, her feet positioned perfectly beneath her.

They both froze for several seconds, weapons trained on each other. Bucky knew she could have - should have - killed him the second he came through the door. He should have killed her by now, but he was frozen, confused and frustrated. He had orders: no witnesses. But she wasn’t a witness, she’d done the job. Why the hell was he still standing?

“And here I thought you were just a legend,” she purred. She didn’t move other than to tilt her head to the right and raise her eyebrow at the glimmering metal arm. “The Winter Soldier.” Her voice came out smooth and confident as she dragged out the words. It betrayed her curiosity.

He remained still, trying to piece this together. The edges of his memory had begun to connect. It’d been a while since he’d had any reprogramming and he ached for any information about himself, anything that could help him believe he’d once had some humanity. He still wasn’t sure any knowledge this woman might have would be anything but ugly, but like a festering wound, he just couldn’t leave it alone.

“Who are you?” he finally managed. The rough edge to his voice sounded dark and threatening, even to his own ears, but she seemed unfazed, amused even.

She smirked and dipped her left hand into her back pocket, keeping the other holding her gun aimed at her intruder. She dropped the deck of cards onto the bed beside her and pushed them around, until she found what she was looking for. With two fingers, she flashed the queen of hearts at him before kneeling onto the bed beside his deceased target.

“‘A blind and aimless Fury’,” she hummed, giving him one quick smirking glance. Without the slightest hesitation she reached forward pulling the man’s chin down and sliding the card between his lips.

She removed a phone from another pocket and quickly snapped a photo of her handiwork before texting it off. “Receipt,” she explained casually before removing the sim card from the phone and smashing both with the steel shaker from the mini bar.

“Now,” she finally turned back to Bucky, who had watched her, confused and entranced. “What are we gonna do about the two of us?” She gestured between them casually with her gun, the heavy suppressor making her movements exaggerated and almost relaxed.

He knew better than to believe it. “I have orders to kill any witnesses,” he informed her, voice cold and firm.

“Ah but you’re the witness here, not me,” she smiled, a teasing and smug thing that made him both furious and intrigued all at once. He could only stare at her in confused curiosity. “I’m the one who did the deed, and you walked in, that makes you the witness, technically speaking.”

“I can’t let you go and take credit for this,” he argued, staring at her feet, frustration and fear bubbling to the surface in equal measure. “I have orders.” He couldn’t go back and explain why he’d let her go, that he’d failed his mission because she completed it first.

“Well that makes this all the more interesting.”

Her smirk and relaxed demeanor didn’t fit his protocol, she wasn’t supposed to be here and she should be afraid. Fear of consequence reached the surface and he moved on her faster than she could think. He had her by the throat, pinned to the wall with his handgun pressed up against her chin.

“Okay, easy!” she commanded. She exuded confidence, but he could see the fear in the way her eyes darted back and forth between his. “It’s an interesting opportunity for you.” She clarified. “Dissension among the ranks? Think about it. I was hired by HYDRA to take this guy out, and you were sent here with the same mission? Not a chance. They wouldn’t waste the resources. What else was in your objective?”

Bucky backed off slightly, releasing his grip on her and taking half a step back, but his gun remained fixed on her. “No witnesses.”

“No witnesses,” she repeated, nodding.

“You’re my mission,” he finally realized, shifting slightly.

“Dissension from within,” she agreed. “Your guy wants to take down my guy, so he sends you to kill my guy’s enforcer - me.”

“It doesn’t change anything.”

“Sure it does,” she sounded genuinely bright and pleased with this current situation. “It means we can both walk away.” He eyed her as she pushed his gun away with two raised fingers and began picking up the disused playing cards.

“I can’t… we can’t just walk away,” he argued, incredulous.

She studied him for a moment, reading the fear in every angry crease of his brow, the curve of his frown and the blaze in his clear blue eyes. “What are you so afraid of?”

“They won’t let me go,” he sighed, finally mimicking her actions and lowering his weapon.

“Don’t give them the choice.”

She watched him move quickly to the window and pull the curtain slightly. His apprehension manifest in the way he chewed his lip and the careful glances he made to the SUV parked just outside. The one he’d come in. The one with 3 HYDRA agents - a driver, his handler, and a doctor all waiting for him to return within his timetable.

“Is it… is it those spooks in the SUV that you’re worried about?” she asked, “‘Cause I think we can take ‘em.” She grinned, nodding toward the two bodies she’d dispatched on her own already.

“It’ll draw attention. I have… there’s protocol, and if I don’t follow it…” he wasn’t sure why he was spilling all this to her. Maybe knowing she was also working for HYDRA would excuse it, or maybe knowing she was on his side, not theirs, or maybe it was just the way she made escape sound so… possible. “If I don’t come back or check in on time my handler down there’ll--”

“Your handler?” she demanded, the shock written all over her face. Her eyebrows had shot halfway up her forehead, her eyes were wide with surprise before they narrowed on him. There was no mistaking that fire: anger. “Handler. Like you’re some kind of trained animal?”

It was a rhetorical question, thankfully, because Bucky didn’t feel up to answering that one.

“No. We’re leaving,” she insisted, not giving him a moment to protest. “I’ll take care of them, you just go. Keep your head down for a while. A long while.”

He stared at her in disbelief, a confused scowl drawing his features into what he hoped was a dark refusal, but came off more like a lost kid. “I… I don’t have any… resources.”

“You’re a resourceful guy in the field, I bet you can figure it out,” she smirked before slipping through the doorway.

He followed her at a quick pace, catching up. This went against every protocol, but he’d been out of cryofreeze so long that it seemed viable. It seemed like something Bucky Barnes would try. He had to try.

“I don’t have any money, or food, I don’t even have clothes,” he tugged on the thick leather jacket that covered his torso and glanced at the combat gear that covered the rest of him.

“Okay, so come with me,” she suggested, as nonchalant as he could have ever dreamed possible. Who would want to protect him? Run with him? Run from the monsters who would give chase? “When’s your next check in?”

“8 minutes.”

“Plenty of time.”

As they exited the service entrance, she took his hand and dragged him behind her to a car parked on the street. She opened the trunk and shoved a large hoodie into his hands before carefully lifting a small cube of grey dough from within a small fire safe. He eyed her with mouth agape as she connected the wired glob to another cell phone.

“Stay here,” she instructed before slipping into the dark shadows that swallowed the street.

He watched her dark form ease up to the SUV he’d crawled out of when he first arrived here. She crouched low and set the small explosive just beneath it and then jogged back to the car before grabbing a duffle bag from the trunk and taking his hand again. They jogged around the corner before pulling to a casual walk as they approached the main street.

Still holding his hand she pulled his arm over her shoulder, much to his shock. “Blending,” she explained with a wink. “Don’t look so grim.”

About three blocks later and two minutes shy of the Winter Soldier’s check-in time, she stopped abruptly. She pulled another phone from inside the bag and powered it up. The little bomb she’d planted was armed, and once she dialed the number only waiting for her to press send.

“You sure about this?” she asked him one last time, giving him a chance to change his mind, to run back or run away. He looked her square in the eye and nodded before reaching forward and pressing the send button himself.

A fraction of a second later the explosion sucked all attention to it. The billowing black smoke and bright hot flames stole the eyes and ears of everyone nearby, allowing them the cover they needed to disappear.

“But you were with HYDRA when we crossed paths in D.C.,” Steve argued.

“Yeah, well… nothing lasts forever,” Bucky looked genuinely dejected, like there was a dull ache gnawing at the center of him for leaving you.

“How long?”

Bucky shook his head and pursed his lips, both frustrated and unsure. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I can’t remember all of it. Months at least.”

Steve nodded. He understood. He knew what it meant to find a piece of your past, a lighthouse in the storm, and he understood the need to chase it.

“Alright,” he finally conceded. “You can have the first crack at bringing her in, but you’re not going alone and you’re wearing a wire.”

Bucky slid his notebook over to Steve, opened to the pages on the Queen of Hearts. They were the pages where he’d tried to lock down every memory he could: every alias, ever address, every night huddled in safe houses, every night on the street when there was nowhere else to go, every close call, every busride, every disguise.

He pushed away from the table and started to leave, fighting the heavy sense that he’d betrayed her with the knowledge that it was the only way to save her. “Let me know when you’ve found her.”

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky angst #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader #marvel imagine #bucky imagine #queen of hearts fic #alice in wonderland fic

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mariaclaragomez276 · 4 years ago

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Independent Minds: Girish Jhunjhnuwala, Ovolo Hotels

A self-proclaimed Negroni enthusiast and neon sign aficionado, Founder & CEO of Ovolo Hotels, Girish Jhunjhnuwala has been shaking up the boutique hotel scene with his disruptive creativity in Hong Kong and Australia since 2002. While his inspiration comes from the rock legends of the 1980s, Girish is very much a man ahead of his time.

Hong Kong born and raised, Girish inherited his strong sense of entrepreneurship from his father while working in his family’s watchmaking business, before taking a chance on a serviced apartment building where the Ovolo brand began. Colourful, cosmopolitan, and contemporary, each Ovolo property has an up-to-the-moment urban edge with a touch of rock and roll. The attention to detail can be felt throughout the wonderful world of Ovolo, immediately recognisable for its distinctly daring approach to design – from the statement lighting at Ovolo Central Hong Kong, the loud wallpaper at Ovolo The Valley Brisbane, to the exposed industrial beams at Ovolo Woolloomooloo, a former wool warehouse in a trendy Sydney district.

Not only breaking the mould when it comes to design, Girish has instilled a fresh and flexible ethos into his hotels by creating a sense of “effortless living” for his guests with the modern traveller in mind – think 24-hour pools, barista-crafted coffee, requestable gaming consoles, and a cocktail menu with a different drink for each day of the week. A firm believer in being “anti-chain and anti-same”, Girish has personally crafted every element of the Ovolo brand to stand out from the creative crowd and stay that way for years to come.

What does being ‘Independently Minded’ as an hotel owner mean to you?

I have created Ovolo Hotels with an underlying ethos of connecting with guests emotionally and being personable, which to me is the meaning of hospitality. With a unique design, unique interiors and passion that can’t be found anywhere else, this is how an independent hotel stands out. Some may think that from a guest perspective, there’s not much of a difference between stepping into a chain hotel and stepping into an independent hotel. I think it makes all the difference. A hotel that’s independently operated tends to have more passion and heart behind it, often telling a story that you wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else. A chain hotel on the other hand is exactly the opposite – the whole point is that you will find exactly what you expect, down to the furniture, replicated in another location.

The brand and the experience mean a lot to me, and 10 years later I still choose the wallpaper, the music, the art, and all the above – it’s the part of my job that I love the most – development. I get involved in crafting it from day one. This is a huge reason how and why Ovolo strays away from the cookie cutter approach. Each hotel is different, allowing us to be more nimble, agile and able to change with the times. Thinking from the customer’s perspective has been the cornerstone of Ovolo’s management and is reflected in everything we do, including the way our hotels are designed. That’s why operational freedom is so important to us.

I started Ovolo not only because I had a passion for hospitality, but because there were wrongs that I felt needed to be corrected within the industry. I believed the hotel industry needed disruption. The model hadn’t changed in a long time, and its traditional way of things made life difficult. There was no personality – you couldn’t tell one from the other. I also had a vision – of effortless living and inclusivity. I simply created my ideas based on things that made me angry. Finding things that you disliked, things that provoked you to create something better. Ovolo’s ethos is effortless living – and is inspired by everything that my hotel stays were not: effortless.

What was the inspiration behind the hotels, and where do you continue to find sources of inspiration?

Having grown up in an entrepreneurial family, a lot of dinnertime discussions and chats with my father were about his business, and I was able to learn a lot from him this way. Now having started my own business, I also very much made it a family affair – in my first hotel, my three children would work weekends, make beds, and get hands-on. I’d like to think that they would be able to take as much away from this, as I did from my father.

The way that I came to purchase my first property was definitely a happy coincidence. Hospitality was always a dream of mine, but funnily enough I stumbled upon it by accident. My wife was looking for a location for her restaurant in 2 Arbuthnot Road, the location of my first property. I distinctly remember the agent telling us, “It’s for sale!” to which I said, “Of course it’s for sale!” and he replied, “No! the whole building’s for sale!”. I followed my gut, bought the building, and here we are!

Of course, a lot came from passion. Passion was and is a key part of my entrepreneurial journey. In the initial stages however, I was just looking to survive. Passion came from survival and my ability to survive and persevere led me to be more and more passionate about what I did. People call me a disruptor – but that’s not how I saw myself. I simply created my ideas based on things that frustrated me. Finding things that you disliked, things that provoked you to create something better. So the experience and space that I have created all boils down to one thing: connecting emotionally with our guests. That is something that I will never, and have never, compromised on.

How do you think your hotels stand apart from other boutique hotels?

Bringing back the notion of human connection and emotional experience, I think what sets us apart is our emphasis on making sure everything we do revolves around that. Boutique hotels are naturally more personable and intimate than a chain hotel, however I like to think that we take it one step further.

One of my favourite initiatives that we do (pre-Covid, of course) was the social hour. Guests come down to the lounge, enjoy a couple of drinks and most importantly, socialise with other guests staying in the hotel, or the staff itself. GMs attend the social hour everyday and get to know our guests, whether that be offering up a simple restaurant recommendation or delving deep into personal stories and experiences.

Guests are also able to directly send me an email, telling me about any comments they had during their stay. A CEO feedback email is displayed throughout the hotels, because I always want to hear about my guests’ experiences no matter how big or small the feedback.

If you only had 24 hours to get a taste for the Ovolo experience, what would you recommend a guest must do?

All of our rooms are very nice, but of course I would choose to stay in any of the suites. Named and styled after rock and roll icons, the suites at any of our hotels scream Ovolo.

In terms of what to choose for breakfast, lunch and dinner, I would say any of the F&B offerings that we have within our properties. We just recently went vegetarian in all of our restaurants, so what better way to start and end your day than with a nice, hearty, vegetarian meal? Negroni will always be the cocktail of choice. My personal favourite, Ovolo is all about the Negroni.

In terms of outdoor experiences, my favourite is definitely hiking. With a hike you can best get a glimpse of the city from afar, and you’re getting your steps in as well!

How would you describe your own perfect luxury experience?

For me, a perfect luxury experience would be a safari. I would love to take a couple days and explore the wildlife in Kenya, South Africa, and the likes because this way you truly feel away from home. Returning to a luxurious tent or resort room after a long day in the wild is the perfect experience for me.

On the other hand, there is a lot that disappoints and frustrates me about hotel experiences – which is why I started Ovolo. I couldn’t believe that such luxurious hotels were nickel and diming their guests, and that with every touch-point, there was payment involved. At my hotels, once you step inside all the touch-points are seamlessly included – no paying for a bottle of water in the mini-fridge or a cocktail at happy hour.

Do you have a vision for the future of your hotels?

I think it’s more important now than ever to move ahead with any visions that we have. The hospitality industry is undergoing a massive shift, and it only makes sense to change with it rather than be left behind. Now that the industry is headed towards an uncertain direction, it’s important to be part of shaping the industry rather than just riding along and taking the back seat.

In times of uncertainty, guests are also increasingly scrutinising companies to provide a sense of reassurance. This is when companies need to be proactive, giving them what they need before they even knew they needed it.

Which is why we have very recently launched our new initiative, Year of the Veg. For 365 days, all Ovolo restaurants are going vegetarian! We want to be conscious about what we’re consuming and practice sustainability as much as we can because we believe this can have an enormous impact on the environment and humanity at large. To that end, we’re evolving our food offerings so that our guests can continue enjoying great dining experiences in a more sustainable manner. After going vegetarian across all their restaurants, we will continue to incorporate sustainable and ethical practices throughout our properties as much as possible.

Do you see any new trends emerging for 2021 in luxury hotels?

Design-wise, I believe there will be a trend shifting towards de-cluttering to minimise touch-points. Urban hotels will become more modern with more indoor-outdoor spaces and open windows, as people are starting to value space and openness more than before.

Technologically speaking, I do believe that many restaurants may look into scanning QR codes for the menu and ordering to reduce physical touch-points, but this is not something Ovolo is interested in. As mentioned previously, we value connecting with customers. For me, you go to a restaurant so a waiter can explain the food to you, and for the service. If not, why not just order take-out?

We don’t believe in technology for the sake of technology. Ideas have been floating around regarding a key card that can be integrated into your mobile phone, but checking in at the front desk and being welcomed the way you should be is what makes your stay all that different. Luxury hospitality always needs human to human contact, but technology will find other ways to reinvent our spaces.

Wellness will be given a huge boost as well because of health consciousness. This trend has been on the rise for a while now but has recently become more pervasive with the pandemic, so it will be interesting to see how hotels will incorporate this into their spaces – such as how hotel gyms keep their cleanliness, keeping yoga mats in rooms, walking pads, spas, and such.

I do anticipate that the general trend of travelling will gear towards staycations and domestic travel for the rest of the year, but the travel industry has the ability to bounce back very quickly because of pent up demand. Travelling is a huge part of many people’s lives whether it be for leisure or business, and that is not something that can be replaced. Therefore, although staycations will become more popular amongst those that are wary, international travel will have its momentum back soon enough.

The post Independent Minds: Girish Jhunjhnuwala, Ovolo Hotels appeared first on Small Luxury Hotels.

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imaginethebeautifulworld · 7 years ago

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nordes, axIs, allIes + prussaI, canananda, sapIn, roma- as craetures??s?

This will require a lot of research~ Let’s crack open some old tomes, light a candle, and conspire, shall we?

Allies:

America- Mimic.

A creature able to change its shape to disguise its body as an inanimate object or another being. The concept was first introduced in Dungeons and Dragons in the 1970s, and it appealed to me for Al as America has a habit- the country as well as the character, of borrowing bits and pieces of other nations, and almost presenting as them on many an occasion. Similar to the doppelganger, but I don’t foresee Al trying to actually consume his targets, merely... Mimic them.

Canada- Ol’ Yellow Top.

Old Yellow Top is an alleged cryptid from Ontario, Canada. Allegedly, there have been sightings of this guy since 1906. Some have claimed that it could be a Sasquatch, apart from the distinctly golden mane on its head and the lightness of fur. I immediately thought of Mattie in this case- Just trying to live in the woods, mind his own business, get mistaken as a local cryptid. All in a day’s work, really.

China- Bai Zé.

An alleged mystical beast of Chinese legend. According to lore, the Bai Zé was encountered by the Yellow Emperor during a patrol. The Bai Ze gifted the Emperor with information on all 11,520 types of supernatural creatures in the world, and how to overcome their hauntings and attacks. The emperor had this information written down in a book called the Bái Zé Tú. Just thinking back to how many stories Yao's passed down to his younger siblings and the advice he has for the other nations- I felt this fit him very well.

England- Feyling.

A child born of both Fey and Human blood. Much like a Half-Fey, they have excellent charisma, and with practice and patience, eventually can successfully cast spells and incantations to overwhelm others, become seemingly invisible, and slip away from the law. These creatures are born with the ethereal beauty of the Fair Folk, but unfortunately, it also makes them a little aloof. And of course, I thought of England. It would make sense as to why he can see the Fey, and his strong connections to earth-based magicke.

France- Enfant de Melusine.

The legend of Melusine is reminiscent of a fairy bride. Melusine, vaguely similar to mermaids, had the lower half of a serpent, and the upper half of a human woman, though by some accounts, this metamorphisis only occurred once per week, some accounts by once per month. She was taken as a bride by a king, and gave birth to two sons. The legend gets further distorted- some claim that she was unable to stand the holy words of a Sunday sermon, others claim that her husband discovered her true nature- But the endgame was the same. She completed her transformation into a dragon, and fled. It is rumored that all French royals were descendents of her two sons, and that one can hear her crying for her children outside the castles to date. I feel France is definitely one of those lost, wandering children. It's in his tenancity, his resilience, and beneath his majestic beauty is a ferocity that nothing has been able to break.

Russia- Domovik.

Similar to the Brownie in Scottish folklore, the domovik is believed to protect the home from tragedy and disaster, including theives, disease, natural disasters, and evil spirits. Although he never attacks people, it has also earned the spite that falls to the common poltergeist. Rumour has it that he lives near the hearth, or perhaps behind the stove, so long as he is warm. I felt this fit Ivan; he is so desperate to help others, and he has a kind of quiet protectiveness.

Axis:

Germany- Kobold.

Kobolds are industrious small humanoid creatures, noted for their skill at building traps and preparing ambushes. As for what Ludvig may be trying to trap is anyone's guess, but combining his ingenuity with his skills in engineering and strategy, it fits him. They are also resilient as a concept, as throughout even modern history, German mythologists like Jakob Grimm (yes, from the Brothers Grimm) made many arguments that the story of the kobold dates all the way back to Rome, perhaps even before. The Church continued to tolerate the creature, and it was one of the small pieces of Germanic culture that hasn't been diluted throughout the ages. And that, to me, seems very much like something Ludvig would appreciate.

Japan- Kitsune.

Stories depict them as intelligent beings and as possessing magical abilities that increase with their age and wisdom. Some folktales speak of kitsune shape-shifting to trick others — as foxes in folklore often do — other stories portray them as guardians, friends, and lovers. Kiku downplays it frequently, but he is a devious little bastard, and it makes him all that better for keeping an eye out for his friends. And with all that age and wisdom he's obtained, I feel he's met all of the qualifications of the Kitsune.

Prussia- Vampyre.

Rather than provide a whole description of the lore on vampyres and all that wonderful blood-sucking stuff, I'm going to cut it short and give a few ideas why Gil would make a good vampyre. An isolationist longing for the simplicty of his earlier lives, relying on the energies of others to keep him young. Prussia needs to have exposure to that youthful energy, to new ideas, and soak it all up. Otherwise, he'll fade away into nothing but dust.

Romano- Werewolf.

I kind of dabbled on this before in one of my asks on Lovino headcanons, and it's a running theory I've been exploring for a while. In the supposed story of the founding of Rome, brothers Romulus and Remus were raised by wolves. Now, I had the thought of if they hadn't just been raised by wolves, but were, in fact, wolves traversing as human. And from there a long internal journey began of if Rome and eventually Romano were also part of that lineage. So anyway- Lovino is very territorial, devoted to his family, and has a deeper connection to the ancient roots than most people would think of him.

Spain- Ventolin.

NOT to be mistaken for albuterol! Ventolins are actually small wind sprites with majestic green wings. Legends depict that they will fly inland from the sea, bringing with them gentle rains and mists. They also help babies fall asleep with quiet, soft whispers, and bring with them the last goodbyes of those who died far from their homes. Spain in particular comes to mind, with his more peaceful nature, especially when it comes to children. Also, the thought of that man gently knocking on the front door with the last whispers of a loved one- It's a very soothing image to me. But mostly the sweet whisperings to quell the nightmares of a baby really stood out to me. It's Tonio; of course he's going to help out the little ones.

Veneziano- Merman.

If there's one thing I picked up while I was lost in the maze of a city that is Venice, it's that the city itself half belongs to the creatures below the waters, not just those of us above it. With deep canals filled with algaes and seaweed and centuries of mystery, it's all too easy to imagine that beautiful bastard's caramel eyes as he slowly swims nearer to the surface, charming young lads and lassies away from the dusty walkways, down the crumbling steps, and into the depths. He's got the charm, the mystery, the alluring smile and bright eyes that could make you want to sign your life away. Plus I mean- At this point, the poor boy probably actually is at least part fish.

Nordics:

Denmark- Draugr.

The Draugr are undead beings, but the rest of the lore gets very debateable. Some say that they guard their treasures in burial mounds. Others claim they haunt the oceans, and if seen are a harbringer of doom for any soul upon the waves. And yet another legend I encountered told of undead Viking armies, raised by necromancy, consuming all flesh in their wake, devouring every- Basically zombies, people. I feel like Mati would be a prime example of a ghost (or zombie) who is still around to fufill their purpose. His devotion to protect his family of Northern rapscallions has kind of become his only real dream now, and I believe it is so strong an emotion that it could essentially keep his spirit tied to the earth, with essentially the same skills he had before. Just- A lot more dead jokes. You thought the dad jokes were bad? Oh buddy-

Finland- Nisse.

Small creatures from Scandinavian folklore, Nisse live in houses and barns, secretly guarding the farmstead. If treated well, they protect the family and animals from evil, and sometimes even help with chores and farm work. In ancient times, it was believed the nisse were the first farmers. It wasn't until later in my research that I discovered that the Nisse are most commonly associated with the winter solstice, and can be seen in a lot of holiday decor; they look like little elves with white beards and either green or red clothing resembling the 17th century. Tino with his nurturing spirit, I feel, is perfect as a representative of these little guys.

Iceland- Fossegrimen.

The fossegrimen is a fiddle-playing water spirit who never wants to leave his waterfall. In lore, many travellers would stop and ask him for help in learning how to better their skill at the fiddle, and he would often gladly be of help. The cost was often just a nice meal with a good portion of meat. If travellers didn't meet the expectations, the fossegrimen would only teach their student how to tune the fiddle, but not how to play it. I thought of Emil immediately for the determined isolationism, the love of good music, and the easy going attitude of still offering help, even if the exchange wasn't quite what he expected.

Norway- Mage.

As much as I would love to explore a potential troll!Norway route, the reality that he is probably a well-rehearsed and extremely gifted magicke-user just refuses to leave me alone. Mages, unlike wizards, are not as timid about their abilities. He is absolutely out there wandering ruins and exploring foreign cities. He may be traveling alone, but he is learning plenty. I feel like at some point, Lukas probably also looked into necromancy, but that's a theory to explore when I'm a little less sleepy.

Sweden- Landvættir.

The Landvættir are land guardians, most specifically centered around farms or wild grounds. When approaching Vikings neared land, they allegedly removed the carved dragon heads from the bows of their ships, to avoid the risk of provoking the Landvættir and bringing bad luck. There wasn't very much lore on them that I could find, but from the little I did, I feel Berwald is exactly the kind of stoic guardian one must pass by quietly to safely explore a new world.

These were a lot of fun, Anon! I may do more research later into some of these concepts (may even try to find some pictures~), but for now it is late, and I thank you for the Halloween ask!

Merry Samhain!

Blessed be.

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sthonegate · 4 years ago

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AFK Arena MOD APK

AFK Arena is an epic pretending game with astounding stories, energizing undertakings, and dazzling prizes. You can manufacture your multitude of legends and send it to new accomplishments consistently to gain the best riches. Meander through the dim mazes looking for treasures, battle with their protectors, and get merited prizes. You can download the AFK Arena MOD APK from the connection given underneath!

AFK Arena MOD APK

You certainly won't get exhausted with the AFK Arena MOD APK game, on the grounds that different competitions and titles are held consistently. You can partake in different occasions and get novel prizes, getting more strong. Individuals can pick a helpful cadence and unwind in the spectacular air of the game with no time cutoff points or additional time. In this game, individuals appreciate bright fights, battling incredible evil presences. Gather an extraordinary arrangement of the best legends made in a splendid, bright style. Their characters, the engineers, were driven by Celtic folklore, and the outcome was just incredible. You can submerge yourself in the magnificent universe of Esperia and experience all its magnificence with the AFK Arena Tier list.

You can challenge saints from four unique groups under your pennant and challenge your destiny. Utilize the one of a kind and incredible capacities of every saint to make an invulnerable force and spare the world called Esperia!

Game cycle

Drench yourself in the incredible universe of Esperia, battling evil and not letting him annihilate your realm. This game will have a troublesome assignment in the segment of siphoning legends and getting gear, where you should make a solid effort to get things and raise the degrees of your characters.

During the fight itself, you have to compose your gathering of 5 individuals, where each character will have astonishing vivified aptitudes.

Toward the start of the game, you have to accurately situate your characters in the main line of warriors so as to assume the assaults of adversaries, and modify the entertainers and bowmen. During the fight, your legends will assault naturally, yet physically you will have the option to incorporate uncommon aptitudes. The more fights you have, the more you can open extraordinary capacities.

After you leave the game, the legends will proceed to battle and gather riches so as to restore the fortune when you return.

Highlights AFK Arena (AFK Arena MOD APK)

Climb the Royal Tower's winding flight of stairs, experience the unlimited ways of the Secret Labyrinth, and investigate the legendary Peaks of Time – new undertakings are hanging tight for you!

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Let your legends lead fights while you work or play! You should simply press a catch and gather the awards for which they battled.

Appreciate playing for any of 44 special and vivid characters. Train them from beginner explorers to incredible bosses.

Search for consecrated relics covered up in the shrouded corners of Time Peaks and find new storylines.

Meet players from everywhere the world, make your own societies, and investigate Esperia together!

How to Install AFK Arena MOD APK on Android cell phone?

After you download, introduce it like an ordinary APK permitting Unknowing Source. In the event that you are the first run through introducing an APK document, keep perusing underneath for the guidance.

Download the AFK Arena MOD APK record. In the event that you are refreshing and you as of now have the past form of the application, at that point introduce it on head of the old rendition. Else, you may lose the spared information.

Permit in the settings to introduce applications from obscure sources (do once).

Introduce APK (utilizing a record chief: like ES File Manager )

On the off chance that the application doesn't introduce, attempt to eliminate the past one, restart the telephone, and play out the manual establishment once more.

Run the application

Tips: When playing the modified rendition, turn off the programmed login in the Google Play Games.

On the off chance that you have any worries or inquiries on the best way to introduce the AFK Arena MOD APK record, you can likewise observe this point by point instructional exercise for novices.

Game survey: AFK Arena MOD APK

Modern games frequently attempt to remove the accessible time with the assistance of over-burden mechanics, sellers, and ordinary exercises. The designers from Lilith Games went the other way; for their free game AFK Arena, just ten minutes daily is sufficient.

1. Evil presence Invasion

The plot of the task is very norm: the dreamland of Esperia was attacked by evil spirits from another measurement. The danger ended up being not kidding to the point that all the races occupying the world rose to battle it.

They shaped six groups, and each discovered its own characters – the fundamental characters AFK Arena MOD APK. Additionally, each character has his own story, which can be scholarly by finishing errands and raising the level.

Curiously, while making the universe, the designers took motivation from the Celts' folklore – one of the northern people groups of Europe.

Most versatile rounds of comparative topics hold fast to the Middle Ages or make another cliché dream setting. Interestingly, Lilith Games made a really strange world, to some degree suggestive of The Banner Saga, however more merry.

2. Friend in need of Esperia

The fundamental objective of the game is to finished undertakings identified with chasing devils. To do this, you have to amass a crew of saints. In the principal phases of the section, the player gets a few, yet the rest must be opened utilizing game cash or got as the mission advances.

This is a specific component of gathering and one motivation to re-visitation of the game after each update since designers normally include new characters.

Existing legends can be siphoned, expanding their level, and evolving appearance. Simultaneously, the experience increased must be dispersed physically and shrewdly. The truth of the matter is that every legend has a place with a specific division and has its favorable circumstances and detriments. A few adversaries can be crushed distinctly by a specific blend of characters, so it isn't justified, despite any potential benefits to zero in on similar countenances.

3. Mode for the sluggish

Another intriguing component of the game is the capacity to experience it, not in any event, including it. The name AFK Arena was not picked at all by some coincidence: the characters will partake in fights, regardless of whether the player does exclude the game.

The thought isn't new; inert games on versatile stages is sufficient. In any case, because of this arrangement, the engineers spared the players from tragically crush assignments of a similar sort. Rather, you can simply go in once every day, share the experience picked up, check the cash earned, and give bearings for the following scarcely any hours.

This is advantageous and permits you to truly play easily without putting away genuine cash to accelerate siphoning. Paid highlights in the game, obviously, are. You can purchase sets with uncommon characters, just as different advantages.

Be that as it may, this can not be known as a short: all things considered, AFK Arena MOD APK is totally free, and including substance and worker uphold costs cash.

Also, the task from Lilith Games is one of only a handful not many in which it is anything but a pity to "implant" a bit. Chiefly due to the cool visuals, which in style takes after the previously mentioned The Banner Saga and Tarot cards from mythical serpent Age: Inquisition.

The drawing is actually quite cool and one of a kind in its own specific manner. Around the game, there was even a strong, innovative network that makes its own drawings dependent on intentions.

In any case, shouldn't something be said about the endgame?

Alright, the game is incredible for easygoing clients, however how to manage everything else? Notwithstanding gathering and siphoning legends, you can join the organization for ranch managers – particularly risky rivals who can't be crushed by a customary gathering. Simultaneously, you don't have to sit tight for different players, you can make your commitment alone.

Luckily, the AFK Arena MOD APK people group in the US is very grown, so there will be no issue finding an organization under your time region. Furthermore, playing with individual comrades is more enjoyable – you can visit in the talk and trade encounters.

What's more, for an in-your-face crowd, the designers included an uncommon PvP occasion called the Legends Championship. This is a huge and long competition wherein clients overall battle for the title of the best player.

Valid, here you as of now need to give to the characters, since taking them out for nothing in a brief timeframe is very troublesome. Then again, you can battle in PvP at a novice level, at that point a pretty much siphoned gathering will fit, which can be gotten in half a month of a customary game. Also, at exactly that point, having picked up understanding and siphoning the most helpful saints, you can take a stab at a more significant level.

Esperia needs rescuers, even the laziest!

The AFK Arena MOD APK venture is an extraordinary case of a portable game that adapts to its fundamental errand and doesn't attempt to enchant a player for extended periods. Rather, the designers from the studio Lilith Games made a delightful and straightforward game with siphoning and gathering legends.

All things considered, the game has further developed highlights, however it is carefully discretionary and requires a long game. Or on the other hand give, which quickens progress and opens the route to the PvP title.

For what reason would it be advisable for you to download this application?

1. Right off the bat, practically all games attempt to possess all your available time however much as could reasonably be expected with over-burden mechanics, a compulsory normal resource, and a wide range of remunerations just if there should arise an occurrence of steady use. Here, you can spend close to 10 minutes per day on the game and, simultaneously, not feel any "encroachment" by genuine limitations.

2. Also, the capacity to take an interest in fights without entering the game is a sort of system for lethargic or occupied individuals. Your characters will battle even in your nonappearance. You can, at any advantageous second, appropriate the picked up understanding, get gold and prizes, and afterward tranquilly continue on ahead once more. What other place have you seen such subtlety?

3. Third, in view of the enchanting air, which is immersed with truly everything.

#afk aren #MOD APK

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miss-bullets-and-booze-blog · 7 years ago

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Legend of the Furyborne

**Rated-R for some NSFW Content**

(( The Furyborne -is- indeed a sect that is created by me and not canon to the actual game of FFXIV. However, if you’d like to learn more about it or happen to be interested in roleplaying a place as being a Furyborne, do shoot me a message! I’d love to discuss it!!! ))

It had been several days since she’d saw the man… and for the first time of many others since she caught mere glimpses of him, the bastard had refused to leave her mind. It was… boggling. To what reason was there for him to even be remotely present into the mind of someone who made it her business to keep her thoughts focused on one premise, and one premise alone. Her work. In this case, flashes of ideas… graphic scenes, to be more accurate, filled her mind. –Very- graphic. Her being wrapped into his arms as he kept her in place, his words filling her ears as he filled her up entirely. The way her nails gripped into his flesh with purpose, her toes curled with excitement and the fashion in which she bared her teeth into a prideful grin while he completely sheathed himself into her. By wrapping his arms about her, she meant one locked about her waist while the other bore his hand clamped about her throat.

That was when the sound of glass shattering to the ground had caused her to jump in the most uncharacteristic of fashions. The woman hissed sharply, even as Contessa made her way over to her in order to proceed with the cleanup. “Shit… me apologies, Tess… Me mind’s been o’ bit distant as o’ late.” The elezen would merely chuckle softly as she proceeded to clean after her boss. “It’s of no mind, Commander. Perhaps you do best getting a bit of rest?” Fenra squatted down to assist her in tending to the broken pieces. “A full damned bottle o’ rum. Jus’ got it fro’ Aleport an now it be all ova’ me floors.” If there was something that Fenra despised more than a failed mission, it was wasting her booze. In any manner.

Contessa was understanding, however. The woodland woman from the Shroud had come to work or the Commander for a few years now. She, and a few others who were sharper around a home than they were on any field. A chosen decision of preference. While Contessa had been fair with a bow, she was far better at keeping her office space and the upstairs tavern up to par. For that, Fenra was grateful. She paid her and the others a pretty bit of gil for their efforts. This included that of her retainers. “With all due respect, ma’am, but you have been quite busy these days. What do you believe is causing you the trouble? Is it the night terrors? You’ve been avoiding sleep again lately.”

Night Terrors. In laymen’s terms, bad dreams. Really –really- bad dreams. The kinds that kept her more awake than she should’ve been most nights. Fenra ridded herself of the broken pieces of bottle parts into a small pail and Contessa followed suit. Concern had appeared to splay over her features as her furrowed brows made it clear that she’d been wondering what exactly had been troubling her employer. “Nah… not really. Can’t really place me finger on it. An trus’ me. I want to.” Want was an understatement in this case. She –needed- to figure it out.

“I grew up bein’ o’ bane to me people. Highlanders often don’t believe in mixin’ their blood wi’ othas. Not in tha’ ol’ days. Didn’t matta’, though. She loved me fatha’. When I was born, they called me all sorts o’ things outta’ malice an’ spite. It bothered me some but it wasn’t what made me wonda’.” She moved from the incident of the bottle to find something that’d be better suited in cleaning up the mess. “Ye’ ‘eard o’ tha Touched Ones, righ? Wha’ tha’ beast men call their own who’ve submitted to tha’ call o’ their Primals.” Contessa knew all too well. In fact, she’d had more than her run in with the Ixal who claimed the lives of her family when she were but an adolescent. Her history with beastmen were quite keen. Thus, she nodded her head in earnest.

“See, I always though’ me hair was fro’ my fatha’. An… I still do. Won’t take tha’ away. But it ain’t natural for Highlanders ta’ be born wi’ this… look. Course, ye’ get old an grey as ya’ go, but the white hair ain’t too… common.” She’d tug the broom from the corner of the mini bar wall, pacing back to assist Contessa in the tidying. “ Ma’ tol’ me tha’ rumors o’ white-haired highlanders babes tha’ were bore were sometimes put ta’ death ‘fore they coul’ even get a full breath o’ air or their parents would escape Ala Mhigo ta’ raise ‘em elsewhere. There were considered ta’ be a danger to othas. They were called Furyborne; childen o’ Rhalgr born wi’ so much rage in their hearts tha’ they couldn’t be properly accepted into normal society. I’d grown up ‘round o’ few… an’ by few I mean three. They were me closest friens growin up. I was tha’ baby o’ em.”

Contessa listened with intent, slipping the broom from Fenra’s hands with interest, observing the distant expression that the winter wolf held onto. “I knew each o’ them so well ‘fore I even knew ‘em. Like… we were meant ta’ know one another. Was o’ bit hard ta’ explain. I ain’t have siblings back then an growin’ up, they were all I had. Lene Windstorm was me blood cousin, me uncle bein’ me ma’s closest brotha’. Her hair wasn’t fully white like me own, but she had so many streaks in it tha’ it set folks on end. Funny thing was she was so small in frame. Her mama was a midlander, so she ain’t gain too much body but she was as pretty as a picture. Then, there was Bjorn Warscream. He was o’ neighbor o’ mine. Both his parents were followers o’ the Fist an were killed when tha’ King los’ his mind. So, ran tha’ streets mostly. Anotha’ white haired menace like me. An’ then, there be Rennir Boarsblood. Bastard was massive fer his age. Always was. But he was as gentle as they come. Til ye’ pissed ‘em off.”

Fenra sighed deeply, having moved to find her seat and flopping into it as she resigned into deep thought. “It was Lene they were teasin’ when I made me firs’ kill… Bjorn an’ Rennir were there, too. They woulda’ rid themselves o’ all o’ us if Teacher ain’t show. Me Grandmaster. Marin was the only otha’ white haired Ala Mhigan I’d eva’ seen. Smart, strong… an perfectly at peace. She helped us… helped me learn ta’ keep me anger in check. How ta’ know when there be o’ time fer rage, ta’ embrace Rhalgr’s gift… an where there be o’ time not to. She taugh’ me tha’ truth an ways o’ comin’ inta’ this world as o’ Furyborne. Somehow, I’d been betta’ at it than tha’ res’...”

“See, Furyborne are an’ odd bunch. We can… somewhat locate one anotha’. Tell when one be close or slinkin’ abouts. It’s this odd aetherical connection tha’ none o’ us can really explain. Sometimes, it be real shallow. Like lookin at yer reflection in tha’ water, jus’ ta see if ye’ really there. Then, otha’ times ye’ come ta’ be real close. Lene, Bjorn, an Rennir ta’ this day be the greatest friends I eva’ knew. More blood than me own at times… But on a rare… -distinctly- rare occasion, you’ll cross one tha’ be so damned deep, so strong tha’ ye’ won’t know wha’ ta do wit it when it hits ye’. Those can eitha’ be real good, or real real bad. Sometimes both.”

The elezen woman had found herself seated into one of the plus chairs at Fenra’s desk. She’d already finished doing so, leaving not a shard behind. The woman was quite meticulous. Fenra finally noticed her sitting there, offering her a simper smile as she proceeded. “They put alotta’ Furyborne on tha’ front lines. We’re so damned unpredictable tha’ its tha’ bes options fer mos’ Generals or tha’ like. When tha’ Imperials came, we put out trainin ta’ use… Rennir died on those front lines, cleavin’, hackin’ away. Said he took in ‘bout fifty arrows for he fell. He was almos’ twenty. Bjorn lived long ‘nough ta’ head o’ sect in tha’ Resistance. His sect got infiltrated so they coul’ get close to ‘em, poisoned his men an’ him. When he ain’t die, they tried ta’ rush ‘em. Executed o’er seventy-somethin or more men in his release, poison still in his blood. Still ain’t die. Shot ‘em, stabbed ‘em… it took ‘em ta’ cut his head off clean fro’ his shoulders ta’ stop ‘em. Even then, his body thrashed ‘bout tha’ place. He was ‘bout twenty-three or four.”

“Then, there were Lene. War made ‘er hard… made ‘er strong. She outlasted tha’ boys. Prolly cause she done seen wha’ they did to ‘er family. Fried ‘em in fron’ o’ ‘er… ruined ‘er mama in fron’ o’ er. She fought her damned ass off. Las I remembered o’ ‘er was havin’ left afta’ savin’ so’ orphans fro’ slavin’. One day, I’d been assistin’ Teacher on o’ new strategy when ‘er body came back in pieces. They said she’d fought ‘em all, killed ‘em all ‘ore they captured an’ tortured ‘er. Ye’ couldn’t even –recognize- ‘er with how badly she’d been…” The woman shook her head furiously, the feelings of those pains, that anger stirring deep within her bones. Her fingers folded into her palm, forming a tight fist as she’d regain the composure of her angst. “I’d not even known she’d been wi’ child. They sent it back in o’ box as well.”

For a while, moments that seemed like ages, would pass through the both of them. Contessa would avert her glance as to not look the amber-eyed woman in the face while a tear fell from her closed lids. The fact that Fenra sat before her, undaunted by such memories… No wonder she’d never slept. Naturally, it had only been some of her memories. How many more were there? What else did she not speak about? To be frank, it had been the most she’d spoke on anything regarding her past. She’d always wondered but never did she dare ask. Contessa rose her hand to quickly wipe away those stray tears, moving so to quickly return to her duties.

“You must eat, Commander. I received notification from the Storms that the all of the Wyrmguard Coalition, including Kenji Nasagi, M'aeltaa Ktemo, Talyn Wroth, Patient Thorn, and Caelyn Nunh, are doing well aside from the notice that their Hall has been... lively as of late. A keen eye is being kept on the one called Kanko Cinderkin, at your behest.” She turned from her, having paused a moment as she gazed behind her to note that Fenra had not even moved. “Rokuro Sato left a letter for you before departing to Kugane, Torrad Fireblood has recently made voyage from Costa del Sol... and the eyes you’ve left on Choris Noimasyn state that he has returned safe and sound. Your other kin in La Noscea are safely under constant surveillance. Sand Shark claims all is well in Little Ala Mhigo, while Jackson Meril and Drauvault Malofont have also checked in. Your sisters remain at sea, but their vessel has been unharmed. As for other Agents of the Syndicate, they’ve all sent their regards and assurance of their whereabouts”

There was a mindful pause of the woman, knowing very well what it is she did not want to hear. It would need to be said regardless. “Unfortunately, the search for your brother, Varin is still underway. I will update you if I have any further information at supper. I am sure we will find something soon...” Not even a glimmer of a shift. Her head had rested onto the back of the high-rise chair, her gaze set somewhere in some point of time that had been beyond that room. “Do you still wish me to ensure the safety of the Miqo’te, V’nhea Nunh?” All she could get out of her had been a single, slow nod. While it was to be left or question, it’d been enough to get her moving hastily to the upstairs, leaving the mocha-skinned woman to her thoughts.

Varin Fiske, the younger twin of her brothers, had recently gone missing. The two often had a habit of getting into all sorts of trouble but this particular situation bode unwell. Never had the two been a part longer than a day or two. A week had passed now, and the only sign of him left had been that he’d been seen in Ul’dah speaking with a hooded merchant, going so far as to leave with him as well. Fenra had tightened her watch on everyone she’d known who had even a remote semblance of contact with her. So far, all checked in properly in accordance to her Agents. She couldn’t be too sure. After all, she knew that he was watching.

Furyborne. The unsound and often unseen berserker class of Ala Mhigo. There were not many and their skills varied into whatever the waves of aether had taken them. What they all shared, had been that power of destruction, chaos and mayhem that they desired. The bloodlust and dominance. The ability to conquer through force or execute vengeance through complete and utter annihilation. As far as she’d known, there were very little about… Most having given their lives in the Resistance in one way or another. Up until now, it had been ages since she’d run into any like Aginulf Greywolfe.

You see, there was another Furyborne that impacted her life in such a manner that Fenra chose not to speak on. A man who made it his plight to destroy her once from all these years. Another whom had betrayed the people he seemed to have no true loyalty towards. One whom she dared share blood with; Ulfin Wolfheart… no, Ulfin Hellsheart as they call him now. Her Uncle. He’d been behind each of the deaths of her closest friends, the wiping out of her family… he knew because he’d been one, much like herself. Born of white hair and silver eyes, he’d been feared the moment he learned to walk. One of those who should’ve never seen this world for too long. Now, as a dog for the Imperials, he made it a preference to rid the world of any other Furyborne except for that of his arch nemesis; Fenra Winterwolf. The two had not crossed paths in ages, with her having remained entirely elusive to his grip… but it was only a matter of time.

But why now? Why have Aginulf now? She’d known of his existence for a time now but as she’d told Contessa, it’d been a mere reflection upon their crossing. This? This was something different.

And that is what concerned her.

#Furyborne #Some Backstory #It wasn't supposed to be this long #FFXIV #Ala Mhigo #Highlanders #Some Shoutouts

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nebulous-frog · 7 years ago

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Phil and the Fairy Tale

Summary: Legend says that there is a tower far away from civilization protected by a dragon. A princess is trapped in the tower, awaiting rescue by a courageous knight in shining armor. The princess is preserved by a spell that makes her age at a slower-than-natural rate, so no one knows how long the princess has been there or how old she appears to be now, but the whispers are that she must be a beautiful young woman now.

Word count: 3603

Pairing: Phan

Genre: Funny fluff, touch of angst, romantic ish fluff, fantasy

Warnings: swearing and extremely minor violence

Link to AO3 Fics Masterlist

Legend says that there is a tower far away from civilization protected by a dragon. A princess is trapped in the tower, awaiting rescue by a courageous knight in shining armor. The princess is preserved by a spell that makes her age at a slower-than-natural rate, so no one knows how long the princess has been there or how old she appears to be now, but the whispers are that she must be a beautiful young woman now.

Phil was obsessed. He had heard the legend only recently but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. The story of a princess locked away in a hidden tower, alone and guarded by a dragon, entranced him. Phil wanted to be her knight in shining armor. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being alone forever, so he decided to set out on a quest to find her.

~~~~~~~~~~

After some extensive research, Phil had a list of potential hidden tower locations and set off on his quest. Along the way, he found a stray shiba inu that he adopted and named Susan. He couldn’t just leave her in the middle of a forest, now, could he? She was just so cute, so Phil kept her for his travels.

One day, he was hiking through some woods when Susan stopped suddenly, staring off into the distance.

“What do you see, Sue?” Phil asked her. She continued staring, nose twitching. When Phil reached out to pat her head, she took off running towards whatever she had been staring at. Groaning, Phil ran after her. A few minutes later, they burst into a clearing and Susan came to a dead stop. “What… the… hell… Susan?” Phil panted. As he regained his breath, he looked around the clearing. It was absolutely beautiful; the sky above was a clear blue, the grass was full and green, a small stream ran through, and there was a magnificent pile of boulders in the middle of it all. “Wow,” Phil breathed.

Susan started whining and shifting from foot to foot. She walked closer to Phil, as far from the middle of the clearing as she could while still being close to Phil.

Phil grew wary of his surroundings. If Susan was scared, there must be something out there. He absentmindedly patted her head as he continued looking around, this time scanning for danger, but he saw nothing. That’s strange, he thought. Slowly, he approached the boulders. They were bigger than he had expected, when he got closer, and had strange patterns. In fact, he couldn’t quite tell where one rock ended and another began. Phil reached forward to touch one and found it to be definitely not a rock, though he couldn’t think of what it actually was. Susan was whining a little louder now, still a ways behind him. He turned to glance over at her. She looked absolutely terrified. He turned back to the boulders.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, jumping back. A great big yellow eye was staring at him near where he had just touched the rocks. “That is not a rock! Shit shit shit that’s a dragon! Oh my god, Susan, it’s a fucking dragon!” Phil babbled, running back several paces. He saw the pile of rocks begin to move. It was obvious where the “rocks” were connected as the body of a dragon, now that Phil knew it was a dragon. The dragon raised its head on its long neck and stretched its back like a cat, although Phil didn’t think it looked at all cuddly.

Opening its gargantuan mouth, it let out a roar towards Phil, who ran to hide behind something, anything. Well this is a great place to hide from a fire-breathing dragon- behind a tree! Yes, Phil, great work. You’re definitely safe now! his brain sarcastically supplied.

The ground shook as the dragon approached the tree, or maybe it was still unraveling its long body and huge limbs from around the cylindrical tower that Phil had caught a glimpse of as he turned to run.

“Wait, Susan! It’s a dragon guarding a tower! That means the story was real and we’ve found it! Oh my god!” Phil looked next to him to see Susan’s reaction, but she wasn’t there. “Susan?” Phil yelled. She wasn’t near him anywhere. He peeked out from behind his tree to see Susan staring down the dragon, her previous fear nowhere in sight. “Susan! Come here! It will eat you!”

The dragon bent its long neck to Susan menacingly. Phil turned away so he wouldn’t have to see his poor idiotic dog die at the hands of such a beast, waiting to hear her yelps of pain as she was eaten alive.

A few seconds later, Phil dared to look again, as the area had gone silent. The dragon was staring at Susan with what looked to be amusement as Susan rolled around in the grass. She got back up and barked playfully, bending into her “play with me I’m adorable” stance. The dragon ducked its head down and nudged her with its snout.

What the hell is happening right now? Phil wondered. Why isn’t the dragon eating her? He carefully shuffled closer to them, not quite trusting the situation yet. As he approached, the dragon’s gaze snapped back to glare at him. Phil froze before slowly raising his hands in a hopefully placating gesture. The dragon began to growl at him and Phil’s eyes squeezed shut, preparing to be burned alive, but Susan barked, breaking the moment. The dragon stopped growling and the animals seemed to have a conversation while Phil remained frozen. A few minutes later, the dragon looked at Phil with a cautious, but not angry, expression. It blinked slowly and scanned Phil, as if judging his character, then nodded once. Its gaze returned to Susan and they began playing again.

“Well, now what?” Phil asked no one in particular. He assumed that he was free to wander as he pleased now that the dragon had sized him up. Looking at the tower again, he saw nothing that seemed to be a door or window he could use to enter. With careful glances at the dragon, he walked to the tower to find a way in.

Fifteen minutes of looking later and Phil was getting impatient. He had come all this way to find and save the princess and he couldn’t just because there wasn’t a door. Eventually, he resorted to simply climbing up the side to see if there was a window or trapdoor on the top of the tower or something as he was completely out of ideas.

As he pulled himself up the side of the tower, he began to contemplate his life decisions again. He had dedicated his time to finding a princess that he hadn’t been sure existed or not and nearly threw his life away in the process, facing a dragon and now being stupid enough to climb the side of a tower lacking windows and doors. He hadn’t met this princess, he didn’t know her at all, and yet Phil was risking life and limb for her. He especially regretted the decision to climb the tower as he had to climb up a ways and then shimmy along the sides to try to find an opening. When he got about a meter away from the top of the tower, he finally saw something that looked promising: wood. It was completely different from the rest of the tower’s construction, which was all stone. This had to be a window. Phil rushed towards it, desperate to relieve his aching limbs from his tedious climb. He saw a handle and nearly cried with joy at having nearly completed his quest. He reached for the handle to open it, grabbing tightly with one hand, and-

SMACK

The window slammed open on Phil’s fingers.

“Ouch! What the hell?” he cried as he shook out his poor hand, dangling from the tower by the other. He heard a shriek above him and quickly looked up to see a flash of brown before he was hit with a book.

“Get! Off! My! Tower! You! Freak!” a distinctly male voice called, punctuating his words by smacking Phil with the book.

“What the hell! Calm down!” The hitting slowed down but didn’t stop.

“Get away! Go rob someone else!”

“I’m not here to rob you! I’m here to rescue the princess!” The hitting stopped altogether now.

“There’s no princess here, you daft idiot, and how am I supposed to believe you’re not here to rob me? I don’t even know you!”

Phil let out an exasperated sigh and exclaimed, “Well, if you let me in and I try to rob you then you can push me back out the window but can I please come in now? My arms are about to fall off and I think you shattered my hand.”

There was silence above him for a few seconds before Phil heard a wary, “Fine. But no funny business. You can climb in and then tell me who you are and what you want and then leave, got it?”

“Yes, I’ve got it. Thanks,” Phil grunted as he hauled himself through the open window and into the tower.

The inside of the tower was nicer than he had expected. It was spacious and light with a big bed off to one side and several comfortable chairs to choose from. On one edge of the room there was an elaborate system of computers, televisions, and video gaming software. Posters decorated the walls for anime and My Chemical Romance and a Chinese takeout box was sitting empty on a coffee table.

“Who are you and what do you want?” The stern male voice from earlier snapped Phil back to his senses. He turned to his left to see a gorgeous young man. He had soft looking brown hair and amazing brown eyes with a creamy complexion and don’t even get Phil started on the rest of him. Essentially, he was dreamier than dreams. And he was apparently holding a book in his left hand, poised to strike. Phil subconsciously flinched away from the book.

“I-I’m Phil Lester and I’ve been looking for a tower guarded by a dragon to save a princess from a legend I read about on the internet?” The longer his sentence went on, the more ridiculous Phil realized his story was.

The young man eyed him suspiciously. “There aren’t any princesses here, just me and the evil old witch that still sometimes comes to make sure I’m not dead.”

Phil’s eyes widened. “Wait, are you the princess that was taken to this tower years ago?”

The other man rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not the princess that was taken. There was no princess taken. Fuck society. I am the prince that was taken. They just couldn’t handle that a supposedly strapping young lad with years of combat training and battle wisdom would get taken and locked away in an inescapable tower. Plus, what knight in shining armor would save a prince, they all want to save the girl so they can marry someone rich and beautiful who will produce strong children and blah blah blah.”

Phil blinked. He was still trying to wrap his mind around this; all this time, he’s been chasing after a prince? Not that Phil minded that much, this prince was beautiful. “Wait. How did you get all of this stuff here?” he asked, gesturing to the televisions and computers.

“The nasty old witch got tired of climbing the stairs to come visit me so she got me a phone and cell service and wifi. You’d be surprised what a little magic, ancient fortune, and Amazon can do for you. Amazon really does deliver anywhere and so do most restaurants.”

“You’re telling me you’ve had access to a phone this whole time and haven’t called for help?!”

“Not this whole time, obviously, just since they were invented and the technology got semi useful. But yes, I haven’t called for help. My family is long gone and I don’t particularly like talking to people irl so there’s no need.”

Phil was astonished. This man had been here for literal ages and hadn’t tried to escape. “B- but- why? Why would you stay here? How long have you been here, anyway?”

The man shrugged. “I lost count of the years, but it’s been at least 500. The witch put a curse on me so I wouldn’t physically age or mature beyond the age of 21 until I experience ‘true love’s kiss’, whatever garbage that is. I stay because the wifi is fucking amazing and, as I said, I don’t like people. You fall under that category, clearly.” He glared at Phil with his last sentence.

Phil just kept getting more confused. “You are literally a living fairy tale and you don’t believe in true love? You’re over 500 years old and you don’t believe in the magic of love?”

“Nope. It’s utter bullshit. Anyways, why are you still here? What do you want from me?”

“Oh no, you are not making me leave right now, not without you, at least! I just spent so long searching for you and waiting to meet you and I’ve battled a dragon and climbed a ridiculously tall tower and I am not-”

“You battled a dragon? My dragon? You didn’t kill him, did you? Drago is my best friend, you better not have. Oh my god if you killed him I swear to god I will push you out of this window and record your pathetic death for the internet,” the man threatened as he ran to the window.

“What? Of course I didn’t kill it! Have you seen how big it is? I’m no match for it! I just got by it because it likes my dog.”

The man’s head snapped back to look at Phil, pure excitement shining in his brown eyes. “You have a dog?”

Phil nodded. “A shiba inu named Susan.”

“I’m coming with you. I’ll leave my tower and follow you wherever as long as you let me love your dog.”

“Really? You have basically everything up here except a shiba inu and that’s your motivation to leave?”

“Of course it is, shibes are my favorite of all time and they are glorious creatures,” the man said. “Oh, and my name is Dan, by the way, since I’m following you around everywhere for the rest of Susan’s life.”

Phil blinked. “Um. Okay. But we barely know each other?”

“You just said you wanted to take me away from here and now you’re complaining that you don’t know me? You are one strange person, Phil.” Dan paused, considering for a moment, before continuing, “I’ll tell you what. Let’s stay here for a few days, get to know each other and all that, and then we can go off wherever you want as long as I can be with your dog.”

“I guess that sounds alright to me,” Phil said.

“Brilliant! Now let’s go bring your dog up here and I’ll order some pizza if you want and let’s talk.”

Dan walked over to the middle of the room and moved the rug, revealing a trap door. He opened it and began to climb down a ladder.

“There was a way into this tower besides climbing up the outside of it?!” Phil exclaimed as he followed Dan, “I nearly died trying to get up here and I could’ve just taken a ladder?”

Dan laughed. Phil decided that was his favorite sound, although he sure wasn’t about to tell Dan that. “You wouldn’t have been able to find the entrance. The ladder takes us to a tunnel that opens up outside of the clearing.”

Sure enough, they emerged a few minutes later on the edge of the clearing. Susan immediately bounded towards Phil and tackled him with a wagging tail and lots of licks.

“Oi, get off me, Susan! Haha, calm down! I know you missed me but come on it wasn’t that long!” Phil laughed as Susan continued to attack him.

Dan looked on in wonder at Susan and finally reached out to pet her. In response, she jumped off of Phil and onto Dan, giving him the same cuteness overload.

“I’m literally never letting you have your dog back, Phil, this is the best thing ever,” Dan said. He was now hugging Susan as best he could as she wiggled around on him in excitement.

A few hours later, Phil, Dan, and Susan were sitting in the tower again having eaten some pizza. They were watching Wall-E on Dan’s huge TV. Susan had thrown herself across Dan’s lap as he absentmindedly scratched behind her ear and she was now sleeping.

“You know, your tower is really nice,” Phil commented quietly. “I guess I can understand why you didn’t want to leave.”

“It gets a bit lonely sometimes, but that’s what the internet is for.”

Phil nodded. “So, you’ve lived in this tower for hundreds of years. Do you have any animal friends like the Disney princesses all do?”

Dan scoffed. “I am not a Disney princess, you spoon, I am an ancient Prince and I will be treated as such,” he insisted.

“Whatever you say, Prince Dan. Or, even, whatever you sing,” Phil giggled.

Dan gently smacked Phil’s arm. “Rude.”

They continued watching the movie in silence for a few minutes before Phil spoke again. “If you really don’t want to leave, i would stay here with you,” he whispered.

Dan’s eyes widened. “But, surely you have people you love back where you came from. Why would you stay here?”

“Well, like you said, the wifi is fantastic, for one. And, I know I’ve only known you for a few hours, but it feels like it’s been longer. You’re an awesome person and I’d be honored to stay here with you. Besides, you have all of these things delivered to your tower all the time, it’s not like I couldn’t go visit my family ever.”

Dan was silent at that; Phil noticed the change in his demeanor and grew concerned.

“Dan?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just a bit overwhelmed. You’ve been so nice and you’re the first person that’s come looking for me in at least two hundred years, even if you did think I was a princess. You didn’t scoff when I told you that the legend had been warped because I was too weak to save myself, despite being a prince trained in combat since birth. And now you’d be willing to stay here with me, just to keep me company. It’s a lot to take in, especially for someone who’s only been cared for by a nasty old witch for as long as I have. Thank you,” Dan said quietly. “I won’t make you stay here. It’s about time I get out of this tower, anyway. I’ve spent enough time here, watching the world grow without me. I’ll go with you whenever you want to leave.”

Phil stared at Dan for a few moments. “We can leave tomorrow, if you want?” He didn’t want to rush Dan; only yesterday, Dan had thought he’d spend the rest of eternity essentially alone.

Dan nodded. “Drago will come with us, too, right?”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. I mean, he’s a bit big and most people aren’t really used to seeing a dragon. I’m not really sure what we could do.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Well, he wouldn’t stay as a dragon, of course. He’s a reptilian shapeshifter. He can be our pet iguana or something. Gosh, what do you take us for? Some non magical weirdos in a forest?” he teased Phil sarcastically.

“Sorry, I didn’t know! Fine, he’ll be our pet iguana and we’ll leave tomorrow. Deal?”

“Deal.”

~~~~~~~

The next day they set off and eventually made their way to Phil’s small flat in London. They stopped by a grocery store nearby to get some food, as Phil’s kitchen was almost empty from his time adventuring.

“…and this is a grocery store!” Phil explained excitedly.

“Phil, for the last time, I know what things are! I lived in a tower, not under a rock!” Dan rolled his eyes as Phil giggled.

“Are you sure, Your Highness?”

Dan punched him in the arm. “Stop calling me that, it’s weird.”

“Alright, Your Majesty,” Phil giggled again.

Dan sighed and gave up.

After retrieving their groceries, they walked into Phil’s apartment.

“Sorry it’s not as big as your tower or anything, and you’ll have to sleep on the couch for now because there’s only one bedroom, but it’s all that I have,” Phil explained.

Dan looked around happily. “It’s perfect, if a little overcrowded with plants,” he said.

They set up a space for Drago and then collapsed on the couch together, exhausted from the journey home.

“I know I said this already, but, truly, thank you, Phil. You gave me a reason to leave and I’m so glad you did.”

Phil gave Dan a soft smile. “I’m glad I found you,” he replied, before leaning in and kissing Dan.

Dan gasped into the kiss, tensing slightly as his brain panicked. He hadn’t kissed anyone in years, so he wasn’t sure he was still any good at it. He quickly relaxed, however, and melted into Phil. Maybe he didn’t believe in the so-called magic of love, but a few more kisses from Phil and he’d believe anything. After all, he was an ancient prince with a pet dragon. Who was he to say what could be impossible?

#Phan #phanfiction #phan au #fluff #fantasy #food mention #dog

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sage-nebula · 7 years ago

Note

Hydrangea and Lavender

Hydrangea: What inspired you to begin writing in the first place?

Hah, well, there were three stages to this!

The first story I ever wrote, as embarrassing as it may be to admit this, was Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog fanfiction when I was in first grade. We had an assignment to write a story about anything we wanted, and, well, that’s what I wrote. I was super jazzed when we were first given the assignment because I loved reading and making up stories, and I enjoyed every second of writing it. I even drew some really bad illustrations to go with it. I mean, the story itself was bad too, I’m sure, but I was also about six or seven years old, so … I can be excused, I think. Either way, I knew at that point that I loved creating stories, although since I was so young it hadn’t really clicked in my head yet that I, too, could write books of my very own.

Fast forward to fifth grade. Stages two and three took place in that year. The first stage was when I was still attending my first elementary school, before I moved, and I was once again given a creative writing assignment. At my first elementary school, the fifth graders would write a short book every year that would be hard-bound and put in the school library. I was super mega psyched about this, because I had recently beaten The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask and I wanted to write a sequel to it. (Note: My sequel idea was horrendous, good god, self. But again, I was ten, so I think I can cut myself some slack.) My teacher vetoed this idea, saying that it was plagiarism to write a Zelda story, which I was very offended by because, hey, I was making the plot and the words all by myself, that’s not plagiarism! Either way, I moved out of state before the project ever came to fruition anyway, but my first fifth grade teacher and I both clearly had very different ideas on the legitimacy of fanfiction.

Either way, I moved out of state for the spring semester, and at my new elementary school I met a boy who … you know those kids who would always brag about having super famous relatives or whatever to seem cool? He was one of those. He found out that I really liked video games, and although I was a huge outcast nerd that no one actually liked (trust me, I was very unpopular, I’m not exaggerating), he made up this whole story to me about how his uncle worked at Nintendo and was looking for new game ideas and that, if I gave him one, he’d pass it along to his uncle and it would get made.

And I, dumbass ten-year-old that I was, fell for it.

So I spent ages writing in a notebook, coming up with this game that was basically a Zelda rip-off, except the protagonist was a girl, had a dragon that she rode around on, there was no princess (although there were four female oracles to represent each season who were basically like royalty / demigoddesses), and there were fifty temples. No, really, I had conceived something like fifty temples because I was sad that my games ended and wanted one that would last FOREVER. Anyway, when I finally had all of these (terrible) ideas written down I took them to the boy, who then told me that, oops, the deadline had passed. I got upset because he had never told me there was a deadline, but it had passed and there was nothing that could be done. I spent some time being bummed about this (I put in all that work) before I realized … wait a second … I could turn this into a book … I could write this …

And that, my friend, is when it finally clicked in my thick head that I could write my very own books and when The Dream™ to become a published and beloved author was born. My original plan, when I was an idiot child, was to have a book published right away. I am now twenty-seven and feel I am not even close to that, but I also feel that I’ve improved a lot, and I do have my original fiction project that I’m working on, so … maybe someday. I hope. I dream. Please let it happen, universe. (In truth the universe can’t let anything happen. This power lies within me. I just have to utilize it. I must.)

Anyway, I know it might seem like all I write is fanfic, but I do have that original project as well. Fanfiction just helps keep me in practice … when I actually write it, anyway. I have got to get back in the groove.

Lavender: What is the most important thing to you as a writer?

HMMMM, I don’t know if there really one “most important thing”. I mean, when it comes to actually constructing the narrative, I feel like there are two main things:

The sentences — These are the framework of the story. They have to have the right amount of snap to keep the reader engaged. It doesn’t matter how creative your ideas are; if your sentences are garbage, your reader will not be able to get through the story. You have to have the mechanics down in order to get the story told, and so the sentence quality is massively important.

The characters — Your story is nothing without fantastic characters. You can have a myriad of plot twists and beautiful themes, but if your characters are boring, flat, or exist purely to be tropes or devices, your story is going to be tossed aside in no time at all. Further, your characters are what carry your plot; if they’re not strong enough to carry the plot, the plot will not be strong enough to support the reader for the entire ride. Really allow your characters to shine; they are what make the plot in the first place.

The second one also contains things like character development, relationships, dialogue, overall characterization, et cetera. All of those things are incredibly important.

Don’t get me wrong, the plot is important, too—you have to make sure it makes sense, that there aren’t gaping plot holes, et cetera. But your sentences and your characters are what make or break your story, at least in terms of whether or not the reader is going to toss it aside on the next page. I mean, for instance, I cannot read Tolkien’s work because, in my opinion, his prose is godawful. I understand that he set the stage for many of the high fantasy works that followed, that he gave birth to a lot of the tropes that we still see in use today, that his works were incredibly important for the genre. However, the man spends two pages describing goddamn trees. I cannot get through his prose. Even when it comes to The Hobbit, which is supposed to be for kids, I found myself so bored I wondered if I was reading an encyclopedia instead. Similarly, Neil Gaiman’s writing isn’t necessarily terrible, but I ended up disliking American Gods by the time I was halfway through the book because he was using similes or metaphors every other sentence, and so it felt like he was trying oh so very hard to seem impressive, which had the exact opposite effect. I distinctly remember rolling my eyes during the sex scene with Bastet because of yet another simile (or maybe it was a metaphor, can’t recall). I felt so annoyed at how smart he was trying to sound, and so his writing style is simply not for me. (Terry Pratchett, on the other hand? That man could write. His writing style is what made Good Omens one of my favorite books. Thank god he tempered Gaiman on that one. Thank god.)

So your sentences are incredibly important, but so are your characters. Your characters are everything. I don’t care how brilliant you believe your theme is, or how many plot twists you have; if your characters are garbage, that plot is not going anywhere. You will either get stuck when trying to write it, or your readers are not going to care about it. Readers like interesting plots, yes, but readers prefer fascinating characters. I mean, look at fandom. Sure, people talk about the plots of their favorite narratives, but what do they draw fanart of? What do they spend countless hours writing meta for? What inspires them to write fanfiction? The characters do. We don’t care about the Harry Potter series because of the plot. We don’t watch Star Wars because of the plot. We don’t really care about the plot of the superhero movies that we see and gush over. Again, aspects of the plot can be interesting, but the reason why we care is because we care about and connect to the characters. If your story does not have well-written, lovable characters (at least some of them have to be lovable, unless you’re explicitly trying to write a story in which everyone is loathsome and that is what causes the fascination), then it isn’t going anywhere, no matter how intelligent or witty your plot may be.

(And note: This is not to say that your plot isn’t important, because it is, of course it is. You need to put care into maintaining your plot as well. But it is to say that your characters must come first. Your characters are why your reader sticks with your story. And it’s worth pointing out that there are plenty of television shows that have great cultural longevity despite not having much in the way of a plot (e.g. Seinfeld, or The Office, or Parks and Recreation, et cetera), whereas it’s much harder to think of one that has lasted and been thought of as wonderful because it had a deep and intricate plot, but absolutely boring and dreadful characters. So your plot still is important, no doubt about that, but you must tend to your characters first.)

With all of that said, aside from that, originality is also important. Everyone should write a story that is theirs. And I don’t mean that cop-out I often see going around, about how, “just take someone else’s plot, because if you’re writing it’s automatically unique!” because that’s not true. Idea theft / idea plagiarism does exist, and I’ve seen it far too often in fandom (often done to my own works; I’ve been plagiarized in at least three different fandoms and it hurts like hell every time) to feel comfortable. However, although there are certain stories which are told time and again in different ways, they’re told in unique ways. You can see the narrative similarities between Harry Potter and Star Wars, for instance, but they’re both so incredibly different that you’d never feel that one was a direct copy of the other. The same goes if you throw Lord of the Rings into the mix. And although the His Dark Materials trilogy was written as a Take That at C.S. Lewis because of The Chronicles of Narnia, the two are still so different that if you didn’t already know that beforehand, you wouldn’t see how Lyra has elements of both Susan and Lucy in her. So I do think that originality is very important, and that everyone should strive to come up with something that is very much theirs, rather than just taking another’s idea and copying it wholesale. Don’t plagiarize. It never ends well and it’s incredibly hurtful to the person you do it to.

So yeah, those three things: Sentences, characters, originality. I think they’re all pretty important!

#flower writing meme #mywaywardcupcake

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postgamecontent · 7 years ago

Text

The Summer of Adventure: Chrono Cross

Original Release Date: November 18, 1999 (JPN)

Original Hardware: Sony PlayStation

Chrono Cross is a game that just about every fan of JRPGs has an opinion on. Put in the unenviable position of having to follow up on what many consider to be the best game of all-time in the genre, Chrono Cross chose to take one of the most difficult routes possible. It is undeniably a continuation of the events of the first game, with its main plot serving to tie up one of the loose ends from Chrono Trigger. At the same time, it doesn't seem to be bound by that game at all. At times, it even appears to treat it with contempt. I want to say that Chrono Cross would have been better off as a stand-alone game, but I'm not sure it could have drawn out the same level of emotion from players had it gone that way. Chrono Cross was praised to an almost ridiculous degree when it first launched, but the backlash on it in the years that followed was one of the biggest I've seen in my whole time in the hobby. What's the deal?

Chrono Trigger released with a bang in 1995, riding on the back of a dream team of talents including Final Fantasy creator Hironobu Sakaguchi, Dragon Quest creator Yuji Horii, and famed Dragon Ball artist Akira Toriyama. Its excellent graphics, progressive mechanics, and compelling time travel hook made it an instant winner. Even with more than 20 years down the road, the game is considered to be one of the finest JRPGs and Super NES games. Some would even put it on their short list of the best games of all time. I have friends who make a yearly playthrough of the game a priority, squeezing the game's finite contents for every last drop of enjoyment possible. It's been ported to multiple platforms including the Sony PlayStation, the Nintendo DS, and iOS.

Its sequel would face different circumstances. That dream team had moved on to other things, leaving the less flashy staff members who had shouldered a fair portion of the load of the first game, albeit behind the scenes. The director's chair was occupied by Masato Kato, a well-known game writer who helped pen the stories for Chrono Trigger, Final Fantasy 7, and Xenogears. This was only his third turn as a director, with previous credits on Ninja Gaiden 3: The Ancient Ship of Doom and the Japan-only Satellaview visual novel Radical Dreamers. Perhaps notably, Chrono Cross is also the last game he directed. Naturally, he also provided the story for the game. The game was produced by Hiromichi Tanaka, who would soon take point on Final Fantasy 11. The character designs were provided by Nobuteru Yuki, best known for his work on the anime series Escaflowne.

Considerable talent, to be sure, but the change in directors, designers, artists, and producer made for a game that looked and played almost entirely differently from its predecessor. Besides Kato, the one big returning name was composer Yasunori Mitsuda, the man who had worked himself sick in his composing debut on the first game. Having put a few more games under his belt, Mitsuda was ready and able to deliver a stunning soundtrack that I still think is one of the greatest of all-time. While Chrono Cross had a whole new look and a more confident sound, it was still a great-looking game with some very progressive ideas of its own. One box that would remain unchecked, however, was the time travel motif. There is a little bit of time travel in the story, but you're not the one doing it. Instead, Chrono Cross focuses on crossing between parallel worlds. It's an interesting concept that plays well to Kato's strengths as a writer.

Interestingly, Chrono Cross was the third kick at the can for a sequel to Chrono Trigger. The first, Radical Dreamers, covers part of the same narrative ground. Released only in Japan and exclusively through the Satellaview download service for the Super Famicom, Radical Dreamers introduces some characters that would reappear in slightly altered forms in Chrono Cross, along with a short scenario that would also show up in the latter game. This was only ever meant as a side project, largely existing simply because Kato was annoyed by the loose ends the plot of Chrono Trigger had left. The next potential candidate was the game that would become Xenogears. Initially pitched as an idea for Final Fantasy 7 before another idea won out, it then was planned as a follow-up to Chrono Trigger. After a lot of disagreements, it ended up being its own thing, though it's not hard to spot the connections between it and Chrono Cross.

It was after Xenogears wrapped that Square officially put together a team to create a new Chrono game. The creative talents involved have given some conflicting reasons for the game's dramatic departure from the original game, but the gist seems to be that they didn't feel like rehashing things. They felt doing time travel again would be a cop-out, that a new cast would appeal to potential new players, and that it was important to take full advantage of the new hardware they were working with. As both Tanaka and Kato have strongly asserted, the game's title is not Chrono Trigger 2, so fans probably should not have expected a direct sequel. That kind of feels like a post-hoc excuse to me, but it is what it is.

The game released in late 1999 in Japan, but its overseas release would end up coming in August of 2000, not too far ahead of the PlayStation 2 launch. As a highly-anticipated sequel and the culmination of the Summer of Adventure marketing campaign, Chrono Cross came out of the gates like a rocket. The reviews from critics were nearly unanimous in praising the game, with some publications breaking the safety glass on their rarely-used perfect scores to really underline the point. I distinctly recall a major backlash towards American magazine Electronic Gaming Monthly because one of their three reviewers dared to give the game a score of 9.5 out of 10 instead of a perfect score. Given the many shared circumstances between Chrono Cross and Legend of Mana, it's interesting how different the initial reception to each was. But for however much Chrono Cross diverged from Chrono Trigger, it was still quite recognizable in broad strokes. I think that's what saved it from the more immediate negative response its stablemate received.

That said, the negative response did eventually come. It felt like the bigger a fan a person was of Chrono Trigger, the worse they would eventually see Chrono Cross as. Cross had a different, less optimistic tone to it. Rather than focusing on a handful of characters, it chose to spread the love across a huge cast, hoping to fully sell both its world and its high concept. The story broke one of those unwritten rules of fiction. If you give the audience a "happily ever after" ending, revoke it at your own peril. That's just what Chrono Cross did, and it didn't even make a particularly big deal about it. Chrono and Marle died off-screen a long time ago in some random attack from the Porre Army. Lucca's death is an important plot point, but it also happens before the events of the game. Robo at least gets a significant end, but he too does not survive. Ayla, Frog, and Magus don't even appear in the game, with the latter's absence being particularly preposterous as this entire game orbits around his sister, Schala.

Just in case you think you can delude yourself into thinking the main three aren't really dead, their ghosts actually appear a few times during the course of the game. In short, it was all for naught. Nobody from the main cast of Chrono Trigger got a happy ending, as far as anyone can tell. Heck, you didn't even really save the world. This didn't sit well with many players. Others were put off by the lack of time travel, perhaps expecting there would be some instances later in the game. Even those who could get around these attachments to the plot and characters of the first game were faced with an experience that was almost antithetical to Chrono Trigger.

That game was a fairly light, fast-paced, moderately linear game that wore its messages on its sleeves. Chrono Cross, by comparison, is kind of depressed with existence. The pace is slower, the tone is darker, and the messages are muddier. Although the finished game was heavily pared down from the original plan, it probably could have done with a few more editing passes. For every really interesting, thought-provoking point in the game, there are at least two bits that don't seem to have much purpose at all. Maybe that's intended, though.

Cross serves as a fascinating counter-point to Trigger in some ways, however. In the latter, your intervention is, as usual for the genre, undoubtedly a good thing. Apart from the early set-up where Marle almost writes herself out of existence, your time-hopping shenanigans never have a negative effect on things, at least as far as you can see. Your presence makes the world a better place, even though you are breaking virtually every fundamental law of nature in doing so. The game ends without addressing this particular karmic debt, and that's fine. It doesn't have to. It's not that type of game.

Chrono Cross has something else to say, though. The premise sees your character Serge traveling to a parallel dimension where he was killed at a young age. After 10 years, this other dimension has a ton of differences compared to your home dimension. The kicker is that many of them make for a better world. Some people are worse off, mind you. But the key is that your existence doesn't make things better for everyone. Indeed, Serge not dying has downright ruined some people thanks to that trusty old Butterfly Effect. One of the more enjoyable aspects of the game is in seeing how people's lives are going in each dimension. At any rate, Serge's death is a good thing for some people. A fact that becomes all the more painful when you discover that Serge was really meant to die. His continued existence comes through unnatural means, and even poses something of a threat to the world order.

This isn't just told to the player, either. There are a number of situations in the game where you have the option to make an active choice versus just passively letting things play out. In some of those cases, your decision to act makes things much worse for everyone, while inaction ends up with the desired result. Like many of Kato's other stories, Chrono Cross eventually ends up being a little bit too on-the-nose with its theme, with a primary antagonist literally named FATE. From a personal point of view, fighting fate is a good thing for Serge. It keeps him alive. But in many ways, it's a purely selfish act of self-preservation. It only accidentally has a good result. Of course, this is all the work of a seriously convoluted plan on the part of Balthasar, the Guru of Time. It seems that pesky old Lavos is still alive and threatens to merge with the missing Schala. Balthasar set all of the events of the game in motion to bring Serge to the point that he could defeat Lavos, preventing it from becoming a Time Devourer and eating all of time and space.

Like the first game, Chrono Cross has multiple endings. The best one involves trying to squeeze out a puzzle-like sequence of special attacks on the final boss, a sequence that you may or may not pick up on from the clues. Should you manage to pull that off, you'll save Schala and be treated to a somewhat bizarre ending where she ponders the meaning of life in the face of evolution and survival of the fittest. It's pretty clearly Kato talking at this point, mind you. Schala concludes that although individual lives may seem to be meaningless if they aren't significant in the evolutionary sense, every being does its part to lead up to those significant examples. Thus, every life is an important part of the chain, so life isn't meaningless after all. Phew, thanks for sorting that one out.

She then signs her letter off in Kid's distinct Australian accent, indicating that her memories have been combined with those of her clone. She promises to find you again someday, sometime. The credits then roll, as a woman who is supposed to be Schala can be seen wandering around various locations in modern-day Japan. It's apparently meant to signal to the player that their very own Kid might be out there somewhere, searching for them. It really only works if you live in Japan, though, since the locations they picked are probably not going to strike a chord with anyone else. To be honest, this is a game full of good ideas and compelling situations, but its main plot ends up collapsing on itself in a way that is highly characteristic of Square games from this era.

This was only my second time playing the game, if you can believe it. I really enjoyed it the first time, but I was definitely high on hype. I wasn't sure how I would end up feeling about it after so many years had passed. I've seen my opinions of Square games I once held sacred turn around in big ways before, and I worried that this might be one of them. At the beginning of the game, as I was enjoying the music, brightly-colored sights, and interesting set-up, I felt that I had perhaps underestimated Chrono Cross. The further in I played, however, the more it started coming back down to Earth. There are too many inconsequential characters, the storyline loses its coherence partway through, and the battle system takes a little too long to sort through in basic skirmishes. This is also a game that virtually demands a guide, and even with one, you're not able to see everything in one playthrough. That's fine, but I don't know that I really want to play this again for a long while. Even the first time, when I was absolutely in love with it, I moved on to other things after getting the best ending.

Being a little older and more experienced, I can certainly appreciate some of the ideas the development team tried to apply to the mechanics. That final boss "puzzle" is pretty bad, but in most other respects, I think the element system that governs skills and item use is quite clever. It's a little too restrictive early on, but I like the idea of forcing players to choose carefully what they want in their toolbox. It's a good idea to have a diverse set of skills ready, but if you want to take advantage of field effects, you have to stack certain elements. You might also want to set up a custom set of elements for individual bosses in order to exploit their weaknesses. The only real down point is that this involves a lot of micromanagement that quickly becomes tiresome and isn't totally necessary. I suspect most players will just roll with a general load-out of elements and only change out individual pieces now and then.

I'm always interested in how games try to circumvent grinding. It's been an issue virtually since the inception of the RPG genre, and it's honestly debatable as to whether it's something that needs to be addressed. If players like it, why not give them the option? I guess the problem is that while grinding is often the path of least resistance, it's not fun for everyone. Since it's the most mindless thing to do, people will opt to do it in lieu of trying to reconsider their strategies, even if they don't enjoy it. That leads to people coming away with a poor impression of a battle system that probably would have thrilled them if they had played it without grinding. I think the Japanese focus on intricate combat systems naturally results in designers trying to crack this particular nut.

Chrono Cross's approach is to put in hard gates on growth that are connected to your progress in the story. You're given a star ranking that determines how far your party members can grow. Your stats will only see so many gains until you earn a new star by clearing a story boss of some sort. There are other incentives to battling enemies, such as giving you drops that you can use to create new equipment, but you can't simply grind your way past a tough boss. You have to plan your way through it. Luckily, one of the other unique quirks of Chrono Cross assists with that. You can run from any encounter, up to and including the final boss. No, it doesn't make sense from a narrative standpoint, but it makes this one of the fairer RPGs around. Go in, see what elements will serve you best, and if you don't have them, escape.

I think it's that desire to pick away at the accepted standards of the genre that ties the game to its predecessor more than anything. Unfortunately, that's the least likely thing to be appreciated by fans looking for more of the thing they liked before. On top of that, the desire to push the genre in new directions doesn't always work out the way a game's creators might hope for. I don't think anything in Chrono Cross went spectacularly badly, but not many of its innovations proved to be influential. That goes hand-in-hand with its weaker reputation compared to that of Chrono Trigger.

While Chrono Cross isn't entirely forgotten, it does seem like the series as a whole is finished. Chrono Trigger probably has a lot of re-releases in its future, but I'm less confident that Chrono Cross will show up again as anything other than a PSN download. Even Kato's attempt to tie the two games together more strongly in the Nintendo DS port of Chrono Trigger failed to re-ignite interest in Cross. I suppose that speaks to the difficult balancing act that sequels have to pull off. If a game rehashes too much, it will never escape the shadows of those that came before it. On the other hand, if the developer either fails to or chooses not to recognize the qualities that fans appreciated in the original game, history can be swift with the write-off there, too.

It's often the case that when I replay a game, I come away with greater clarity concerning my feelings about it. But even after making my way through Chrono Cross again, I find it hard to nail the game down. I kind of love it. I also kind of hate it. I wish they had cut the fat off it as much as they had with Chrono Trigger. Some of the themes it brings up are brilliant, but others seem like so much belly-button fluff. I think it's a more interesting, more challenging game than Chrono Trigger tried to be. That it failed in many of its ambitions doesn't affect the respect I have for that particular approach. Some small part of me, however, would have been far happier with a safe sequel in this case.

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#gaming #retro #summer of adventure #retro gaming #playstation #chrono cross #rpg #chrono trigger

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