#spirit of the steppe

[juregim]

also i watched Aisultan Seit’s first full-length film ‘Qash’ (Run) again today. It’s a horror movie that is based on one of the most horrific periods of time for a lot of nations under the USSR regime but especially for Kazakhstan and our people, the famine of 1930s, also known as Holodomor or Ashyrshylyk, when an estimated 40% of our population died of hunger under Stalin’s rapid collectivisation. There have been a few films on the subject before but those were mostly documentaries talking in cold numbers and having some Russian sponsors.

Many people expected the film to be overtly political but it wasn’t, instead focusing on the tragedy of two brothers. Isatay, his village’s gravedigger must travel to the nearest town to try to get some flour for his village and leave his brother at the orphanage where he may have a chance at a better life. Seit’s past in clip making (Joji - Run, Offset - Red room, 21 Savage - A lot) is quite obvious in his art direction but I didn’t feel like he ever took away from the story for the sake of a pretty picture. The film doesn’t state that explicitly but the truth is, for centuries kazakhs we’re traversing the steppe on horseback, now, with Stalin taking horses away making way to the town is daunting and too consuming.

At the core, it is a maze movie, Isatay and his brother lost in the steppe that has no borders or distinctive features, but steppe that is supposed to be their home, now unrecognisable and impossible to go through. They find hope in an old man and follow him but he later turns on them and they are forced to run away and hide in a featureless steppe. Qash doesn’t shy away from the horrors of the famine and it doesn’t use them for a cheap fright, it states the simple truth that the times were horrifying and soul-scratching. The film also leans heavily into kazakh mythology and the soundtrack uses only kazakh instruments.

Overall, Qash was a very impactful and fascinating film, especially knowing that this was the life for my ancestors not too far down the family tree, this was my great-grandparents’ time. Less personally, the film is beautiful, it holds the tension for all of the run time and it is filled with symbols that you can’t stop talking or thinking about for hours afterwards.

I know they are not going to release it internationally, but they will be presenting the film to a few awards so theoretically it should be subtitled in English and I hope they will later put it online as I honestly can’t recommend it enough. For now, if you’re interested, here are some of the posters and the trailer.

[sand-seeks-sun]

Heaven’s Turn Fortunes!

It’s that lovely and renewing time of the year! Let’s see how the sacred lots have shown themselves~ 

Y’aromirr - Grave Misfortune...

Adventure - Patience is a key word in this; Y’aro has been ramming himself head-first and fast at every obstacle in the way of his revenge lately, and hearing this is... grounding. A reminder to hone himself and look for the right opportunities.

Relationship - This most certainly refers to friend relationships when it comes to Y’aro. Ever since becoming a father his time has been dedicated to family and his own wills, and he would be lying to say that hasn’t strained his friendships - the precipice being committing to losing them or giving that needed attempt.

Prosperity - As an honest patron of Nald’thal, Y’aromirr is no stranger to the vice of greed, nor how to manage it. But, as the new year and new opportunities arise it’s best to remind himself to keep a clear mind.

Conflict - Words he heeds well when assisting another, but struggles to think of when serving his own “trials”. Perhaps this year will bring some balance to that...

Favor - The mention of Nophica and implication towards her cast-aside conflict with Halone is one that strikes all too true in Y’aro’s heart; Both for his knowledge of the story, and himself. This will be something that weighs upon his mind as it strives for resolution through conflict, not from it...

( Others under cut ! )

Siobhahn - Misfortune.

A - Siobhahn hasn’t had the most experience with Namazu, certainly... seems as if some may attempt to make acquaintanceship this year. Unfortunately?

R - They could certainly do to be more forthcoming with information in any of their relationships. The true problem lies in that the misunderstanding is a source of fun for them.

P - Perhaps someone would do well not to steal anything they see on a stranger’s belongings just because it’s shiny...

C - This honestly just rings true to the path their life has followed thus far. They just need to keep the energy to continue pushing on, unfulfilled as their heart may be.

F - With Sio seafaring as their main method of travel, the wording here seems important to it’s meaning all the more; They need to wait through the hard times of their life instead of continuing to set sail to a land far enough from their sources to forget.

Khamgaal - Small Fortune!

A - Horrible. They may as well have suggested that he smith iron this year with no source of heat, because he will abide by this advice just as much.

R - Brusk though he may be, Kham is always very willing and even eager to help those who ask. Friendships that may bloom as a result may also quickly wither under his tendency towards isolation, however... Not that he shows that he minds.

P - As if the man isn’t meticulously organized enough. Next.

C - Complacent is maybe the furthest from a description one could assign Khamgaal and the very sight of or implication he could be would drive him to ignore this completely. Unfortunately for his many, MANY personal conflicts... 

F - At last, something he feels like listening to. And it’s really only encouragement to continue being himself; Bullish and stubborn to the end of anything.

Ijsbrand - Grave Misfortune...

A - Incarcerated? Ijsbrand is certainly unfamiliar with the nuances of law in most places, but he’s not generally one to act illegally... Unless this is a precaution against using his water magic with any public fountain or sprinkler system he finds. 

R - What greater a precipice in a relationship than being the fresh recipient of a marriage proposal, indeed... There’s more than a lot on his mind right now. He does really need to trust in and listen to all of himself for these life-altering moments.

P - Truthfully, Ijs is still easily fooled by the ways of Eorzea since his arrival across stars, and he could be easily fooled by the allure of treasure from strangers. It’s a good reminder to stick close to those he has already formed a trust with among his company.

C - As a well aged Viera, Ijsbrand as long since learned that the easiest way through a problem is not always the first one thought of. It seems this is a good time for him to remember that in favor of leaning into his immaturity.

F - He is more certainly one to cling to a grudge, once formed... This should be the year Ijs puts focus into bettering himself in that.

[baqsy]

the steppe only seems flat

[hasdrubal-gisco]

finally watched barbie last night. i think it was refreshing to see gerwig's exploration of population exchange in europe during the chalcolithic age. barbies are clearly coded to be early european farmers, living in a comfortable yet stagnant environment of europe at the tail end of the ice age, with a culture revolving around female fertility (notice the second character introduced is a pregnant barbie). the second sequence shows up ken(gosling)'s enterance into the story on beach, mirroring the arrival of western steppe herder cultures as glaciers in europe retreated.

once barbie and ken venture into the "real world" (prohpetic vision of the bronze age), ken adopts advanced technologies like the horse (horse), patriatrchy (worship of a male solar deity), and cars (the wheel, expoundable into the horse-driven chariot). his donning of the fringe jacket and cowboy hat stir within the audience a yearning for westward expansion, from the pontic steppe through the pannonian basin and beyond.

ken transforming barbieland into the kendom mirrors the replacement of early european farmer (vinča, varna cultures etc.) with corded ware and bell beaker cultures, settled iterations of the kens' previously pastoral culture. the only barbie not assimilated into the new cultral zeitgeist is weird barbie (basques), herself a cultural isolate even compared to other barbies pre-invasion.

the final battle scene between the two ken factions places particular focus on archery, hallmark of the mongol civilization, which was the last of the steppe invasions of europe. notice in this situation, gerwig's bravery in correctly having ken (asian) represent the kingdom of hungary (asian), whereas ken (gosling) is of course the ever-lasting scythian spirit emanating from the steppe. some scholars have suggested the light-blue void where the last battle takes place to be a metaphor tengri.

some other stuff happened as well but i didn't really get how that fit into the greater story i guess. what was the deal with the old jewish lady LOL !

[theophan-o]

FREE SPIRITS OF THE STEPPE

THE COSSACK HERO AND HIS FAITHFUL FRIEND

Compilation of my artworks (various techniques) from 2021-2024

[whencyclopedia]

The Nerge: Hunting in the Mongol Empire

The peoples of the Mongol Empire (1206-1368 CE) were nomadic, and they relied on hunting wild game as a valuable source of protein. The Asian steppe is a desolate, windy, and often bitterly cold environment, but for those Mongols with sufficient skills at riding and simultaneously using a bow, there were wild animals to be caught to supplement their largely dairy-based diet. Over time, hunting and falconry became important cultural activities and great hunts were organised whenever there were major clan gatherings and important celebrations. These hunts involved all of the tribe mobilising across vast areas of steppe to corner game into a specific area, a technique known as the nerge. The skills and strategies used during the nerge were often repeated with great success by Mongol cavalry on the battlefield across Asia and in Eastern Europe.

Hunted Animals

The Mongols, like other nomadic peoples of the Asian steppe, relied on milk from their livestock for food and drink, making cheese, yoghurt, dried curds and fermented drinks. The animals they herded - sheep, goats, oxen, camels and yaks - were generally too precious as a regular source of wool and milk to kill for meat and so protein was acquired through hunting, essentially any wild animal that moved. Animals hunted in the medieval period included hares, deer, antelopes, wild boars, wild oxen, marmots, wolves, foxes, rabbits, wild asses, Siberian tigers, lions, and many wild birds, including swans and cranes (using snares and falconry). Meat was especially in demand when great feasts were held to celebrate tribal occasions and political events such as the election of a new khan or Mongol ruler.

A basic division of labour was that women did the cooking and men did the hunting. Meat was typically boiled and more rarely roasted and then added to soups and stews. Dried meat (si'usun) was an especially useful staple for travellers and roaming Mongol warriors. In the harsh steppe environment, nothing was wasted and even the marrow of animal bones was eaten with the leftovers then boiled in a broth to which curd or millet was added. Animal sinews were used in tools and fat was used to waterproof items like tents and saddles.

The Mongols considered eating certain parts of those wild animals which were thought to have potent spirits such as wolves and even marmots a help with certain ailments. Bear paws, for example, were thought to help increase one's resistance to cold temperatures. Such concoctions as powdered tiger bone dissolved in liquor, which is attributed all sorts of benefits for the body, is still a popular medicinal drink today in parts of East Asia.

Besides food and medicine, game animals were also a source of material for clothing. A bit of wolf or snow leopard fur trim to an ordinary robe indicated the wearer was a member of the tribal elite. Fur-lined jackets, trousers, and boots were a welcome insulator against the bitter steppe winters, too.

Continue reading...

[elucubrare]

Doctor Valeris gave a quick, cool press of the hand, and gestured me to a chair. “Tell me what happened,” she said, with no further preamble. I closed my eyes — on the insides of my eyelids danced scenes of glory and conquest, as they had for the past three weeks - and tilted my head back. “I’d hired out as a guard to an archaeologist up in the steppes. We spent a week riding around barrows, with nothing more than a couple of wolves to bother us. Then he reread a text or something, and pointed us further north. Have you been up there, doctor? Probably not. It’s so big. The sky, sure, but everything. No trees for a hundred miles, just you and the horse and a few mounds where no one alive has walked for three hundred years, and the wind. I remember there was one tree, though, where it shouldn’t be. It was the tallest thing there, and it felt like a mountain. An oak, tall and straight despite the wind that had scoured anything taller than a barberry bush off the face of the world. The archaeologist bent and scraped some earth off a rock between its roots. He pulled a crowbar off his horse’s equipment and pried it up. ‘After you,’ he said, and I went down. That’s when the ghost entered me.” The doctor nodded. “Let me read the statement back to you. ‘I had been entombed under the strength of oak for centuries. I had begun to fear that I would never again feel a horse surge into a gallop under me, or the wind in my hair; that I had failed the ritual; that the promises of the gods were naught but lies.’” She paused. A muscle in my jaw clenched and then relaxed, but I stayed quiet. “’At last there came a breath of fresh air: a wind from the outside, and with it, a bright spirit. Ah, I thought, the gods spoke true. I am fortunate indeed. She is my kin, and she will serve me well. She is thrice bound to me.’” The doctor waited for a response. “That’s not what I said,” I told her, firmly. “No,” Valeris responded. “But it’s what I heard."

[soli-nepenthe]

A Hallowed Secret

A Wander in Wonder/Alternate

genre: romance/fluff

characters: Sylus & fem!MC

warnings: fluff/terms of endearment/hint of central asian steppe

word count: ~ 1800

When the warriors from the Kael tribe returned, they were dyed with the rich vermillion hues of the setting sun at their backs, looking like heroes blessed by the sun god Yaşk. They descended the last of the dusky green hills with rousing hollers as their sturdy steppe horses swiftly carried them towards camp.

Because the tribe had settled on the outskirts of the khanate capital, Tala, it was a relatively easy distance for a horse to cover. Many other grassland tribes did the same, for no matter how grand the walled city might be, it could hardly contain the multitudes that came to partake of the celebrations. It was a matter of tradition that participants would enjoy a respite at their leisure on the eve before a tournament. 

From your higher vantage point near a small grove of trees, your narrowed eyes searched among the stream of stout men for a familiar shock of silver hair. Your fingers forgot about the basket at your feet, absently fretting with one of the braids that Sylus had re-plaited for you that morning.

Oh! He’s back!

You felt your heart soar with relief upon spotting him. He rode nearer to the front, accompanied by the formidable warrior he had bested the day before in the races, a man named Tumur.

Tarna, who had observed your ever-changing reactions with quiet amusement, set down her basket of leaves, twigs, and berries for wreath-making, and nudged at your shoulder playfully.

“Ah, so, I wasn’t mistaken then. Your eyes show favor to Sylus.”

You turned to face her, trying to feign nonchalance.

“Well, it’s just that he was gone for a long while. He’s the kind to attract trouble wherever he goes.”

“Oh? Is he a troublesome one?”

Tarna kindly handed you your basket, already taking her first steps to head down to the celebrations that had begun in earnest. The gentle breeze already brought with it the tempting smell of roasted meats and fried bread and the aroma of sweet fruits from the yurts below. Even the gentle hum of voices, bells, and drums were setting the promise for a jubilant evening.

“Come on, then! You don’t want to fight off other girls who may want to throw their yoke over him.”

A bitterness settled in your gut at that friendly reminder, not that you didn’t appreciate her good intentions. Your hand reached for the embroidered pouch that you managed to finish in time. You studied the silky black threads with an unforgiving eye. The crow truly looked clumsy and amateurish.

Was there a point in offering this token to him? And would he accept it?

To these young women, it didn’t matter if Sylus was an exotic outsider. They surely appreciated his athleticism, horsemanship, and general boldness of spirit that were the makings of a warrior par excellence here. And even if this place was an illusion, everything about the people and their customs, to how they lived and loved, felt all too real. 

Thrusting the pouch back under your thick belt, you hastened your stride to match Tarna’s.

“Let’s go! I’m also kind of…. hungry.”

Tarna laughed.

“All is well. Let us get our fill tonight!”

The moon goddess’ hand mirror shone brightly like a lamp, casting the valley in a romantic silver glow by the time Sylus had come to seek you out. He had a rather unusual talent for singling you out of a crowd of thousands, whether it was in the dizzying tumult of a metropolitan plaza or in this pastoral tableau of people making merry.

“You’ve been hiding from me, my shepherdess.”

His towering shadow fell over you like a smoky veil.

After you had supped with Tarna and her friends, you did not have the heart to throw yourself into the festivities, given that your fate would be decided forever tomorrow. There were too many variables. Not quite understanding the reason behind your suddenly low spirits, Tarna did not push the matter further and left you to your solitude as you wished.

“Have I?” You finally raised your eyes to meet his keen-sighted ruby ones. 

Like the night before, he had tarried with the elders and men of the tribe, but this time he eschewed his role as poet-musician. He came to you with neither wine nor music to dull your anxious mind. You wished he had.

“Oh, yes, I believe so. You and Tarna appear to be as thick as thieves now. In passing, she admitted to me that she finds you pleasant company but… a strange one.”

You perked up in your seat. “Me? How so?”

“She says she knows of no other girl who, and I quote: ‘Makes love with fiery eyes to her beloved and runs away like a timid lamb the next’. Were you too shy to welcome me back?”

You could feel your face flush with embarrassment at her direct phrasing. 

“H-Hardly. Also, my eyes were not “making love” with your face. Or any other part of your body for that matter, just to be clear.”

“Of course not.” 

The familiar vexing smugness in his expression returned, a sight that would’ve had you seething any other day. But tonight, under the mystic light of the moon, you found that your heart was undergoing a different kind of turmoil. 

You had half a mind to flee to the sanctuary of your yurt.

Before you could implement such a hasty plan, a raucous and upbeat melody soon replaced the sentimental strains of the morin khuur. Young and old alike began to dance in a wide circle now, clapping and cheering, their faces tinged with the amber glow of the bonfire. 

It was clear how abundantly happy they were.

“Dance with me.”

The deep and pure tones of his voice were like a lifeline that tugged you back. 

He leaned forward as he offered you his hand. 

“I have two left feet! Besides, I wouldn’t want to cause offence by attempting a traditional grassland dance.”

“It doesn’t matter. No one will be watching us, I promise you that.”

You stared openly at each other for a long while, the rest of the world falling away as your gazes tangled together. It was a peculiar habit of late. Was it the effect of the thrumming music or was it the depths of his wine red eyes that made you feel almost drunk?

Taking his chance, he seized your hand that was absently adrift in the air, pulling you to your feet in one deft movement until you were chest to chest, snug in his hold. 

He pressed a reverential kiss against it.  

“Come with me, Şavanika.”

If you were guilty of only one thing tonight, it was for not always matching the beat. And yet, there were no tongues wagging in censure as you danced together in wanton revelry. Under his guiding touch, every hard line and edge of your body was smoothed away to airy lightness. The pair of you continued to laugh and smile, no matter how many occasions you stumbled into the safety of his burly arms. He caught you, unfailingly, every single time.

Slightly winded, with his chest heaving in a similar manner to yours, he looked upon you as if you were his whole world. Intrepid fingers pushed away unruly tendrils that had fallen over your eyes. 

“There’s…there’s something I want to show you.”

You took several breaths, trying to steady your own galloping heartbeat. 

“Lead the way.”

Even as he bore you away to a special place, you felt as though you could still hear the plucked strings of a zither, a divine and otherworldly tune, haunting your path. You gripped his waist tighter as his horse flew over wide blue plains and past silvery rills of water, looking like the fallen diadem of some earth goddess. But nothing was ever so magical as the sight of a cascade of water that sprang from seemingly barren heights into the gleaming opal-like waters of a lake strewn with stars.

It was a place of perfect untouched beauty.

“Tell me, beloved, is this humble gift to your liking?”

He helped you dismount with ease, one hand tethered loosely about your waist as he waited for you to speak. Venturing forward carefully, you drank in the sublimity of the scene, your eyes sparkling with a newly kindled light.

“It's…beautiful.”

It was impossible to remain profoundly unaffected by the splendour he lay at your feet.

“This place…is sacred and holy to all the tribes. And so, I vow to you, we will return home, whatever it takes. The beauty of this transient dream will always be with us, just as my feelings for you will never waver.” 

He paused to catch a lone tear that strayed down the curve of your cheek.

“Trust in me. In us.”

He stepped closer to you, reaching for your trembling hands. He was so warm.

In this numinous place, you felt as though each and every one of your senses had been ignited to a degree of poignant clarity. The man pouring his heart before you now was neither the enigmatic, devilish Onychinus head nor a brother warrior of the Kael tribe. He was just Sylus. And you were not merely an elite Hunter with a terrible weight on your shoulders. There was nothing here for you to prove. There was nothing here to fight.

You loved him. 

It was that simple. 

You were a woman in love.

Even if you couldn’t put a voice to those feelings just yet.

With countless emotions bearing down on you all at once, you edged closer, bracing yourself against the grounding solidity of his body. As the stars wheeled high above your heads, you held each other, locked in tender silence. After a moment, he bent forward, touching his forehead to yours. You could tell he was holding back, his eyes elated by the love he could see in your dazzling eyes. But for you, this tantalizing distance was no longer enough. Like the brushing of petals, you claimed his lips for the first time in delicate dreamy yearning.

“I trust you. Wholeheartedly.”

He breathed in your hushed words with a gasp of emotion, letting your lips linger softly against his, smiling, before you braved to close the space once more. As the kiss deepened, he held you achingly close, sweeping you into his arms in the way you had always wanted to be held by him — like a true lover. 

Whether this secret vow was blessed by the gods or not, you did not know. You believed in him and you had each other, and that was enough, whatever Fate willed.

On this star-studded night, standing together amidst this pristine wilderness, tomorrow felt too far away.

END.

Final Notes:

Thank you so very much for reading! This is my first foray into LADS fanfic territory, especially here on tumblr. I hope I was able to stay true to the feel of the characters as shown in the Grasslands Romance story, in view of their developing relationship. For me, I think we get a taste of who Sylus really is underneath the intimidating and luxe outer shell. He brought a lot of reassurance to an understandably worried but tries to play it off like nothing MC. I think Grasslands will go down as one of my favourite Sylus cards next to Nightplumes.

Please feel free to like and reblog or comment! But please do not copy/steal/feed this written work into AI.

Further notes:

The god Yask was inspired by a sun god in Turkic myth called Koyash. Although the original story had a more Mongolian feel, I thought it would be nice to kind of expand it to more of a Central Asian Steppe influence (so, I hope no one minds too much ^^;)

I was also partly inspired by John Keats's from Endymion introduction.

Anyway, adieu, gentle readers!

And special thanks to @strangergraphics for their beautiful dividers.

[paintedscales]

FFXIV Write 2024 :: Day One

Prompt: Steer Characters: Nomin tal Kheeriin, Arik Dotharl (Noykin) Word Count: 678

Master List

“It all comes pretty naturally, huh?” Nomin commented as she watched Arik bring Wild Sun to a trot around the corral. They had been with the Noykin for a fortnight; Arik to learn more about his former self as well as to properly get a feel for riding and taking care of horses, and Nomin simply to support and catch up with him after the years they had been apart. It had been a refreshing reprieve for her so soon after her time with the Jhungid.

“It…really feels like it,” Arik replied, a smile upon his lips as he rode past Nomin. He glanced at her, the elation evident in his eyes. He had every reason to feel triumphant and proud of himself. The Noykin claimed Wild Sun was a challenge for all in their tribe, but Arik had come in and managed to not only prove he could match the horse's spirit, but gentle it as well.

Horse stood just a couple yalms away, grazing outside the corral. He had stuck close to Nomin, clearly bonded to her. Hopping off the bottom rung of the corral, Nomin went over to Horse and patted his neck before tracing her hand along his side. As usual, she patted him twice upon his shoulder before applying a bit of pressure -- a routine to when she wanted to sit astride him. He had no saddle any longer -- Nomin got rid of it to remove the colors of Jhungid from her and Horse. Despite this, though, Horse stopped grazing and leaned down, allowing Nomin to hoist herself and straddle his back.

“Good job,” Nomin softly praised, leaning forward and brushing her fingers along Horse’s neck once more. She then gently tapped a heel into his side while bringing a hand to rest on his neck similar to his reins to steer him toward the corral.

Arik pulled back on his reins, bringing Wild Sun to a halt when he saw Nomin approaching. Glancing to her steed and then back to her, he asked: “Did you want to ride together for a bit? I think Wild Sun will like the open Steppe over this small corral.”

“I’ve no saddle -- not that I distrust Horse nor my own riding capabilities,” Nomin considered. “But if we keep them at a walk, I think I’d like that.”

“We can do that.” Arik then clicked his tongue and brought his reins over, guiding Wild Sun toward the gate of the pen. Dismounting momentarily, Arik opened it and brought Wild Sun. Wild Sun’s ears flicked forward, his head bobbing with anticipation -- it was clear he was in a mood to run as he counted, his hoof digging into the ground every now and then. Once Arik got back up into the saddle, Wild Sun pranced a bit in his step, causing Arik to give a slight gasp of surprise before reaffirming himself.

Giggling, Nomin brought a hand down into Horse’s mane, her fingers tangling with his locks before she gently clicked her own tongue and guided him toward the other two.

Once Wild Sun was calmed, Arik looked over toward Nomin, watching as she rode Horse. A small scoff of amusement fell from his lips. “How do you make even bareback riding look so easy?”

“Huh?” Nomin considered the question, bringing her free hand to her chin. She then looked down at Horse. “I don’t…I mean, he was feisty and didn’t listen to me well when we first met…but he was younger then. But since he’s been the only horse I’ve been assigned…I guess we built up that trust over the last three summers.”

“Three summers…” Arik considered. He then smiled. “He seems like a good friend to you. I hope that Wild Sun will see me that way in time.”

“I think he already seems to respect you at least.” Nomin noted the surprise and murmurs of the Noykin when Arik returned with Wild Sun in tow. “I don’t think he would be letting you have such an easy time with him otherwise.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm!”

[juregim]

ok so i remember people asking about sources to learn more about Kazakhstan, our culture and mythos, and a great source i found is the non profit called Yelim Ai Education. Here is their youtube channel. It is a new project, started only in April-May of this year. They have two main projects right now: ‘Kel balalar, okylyk!’ (‘Children, come learn’ the name is based on a famous poem about importance of education), where their team goes to remote areas and teaches kids cinematography and performing arts over a week of masterclasses and workshops, by the end of which the kids produce, shoot and act in a music video; and Ïne, educational multimedia videos about kazakh mythology. Most of the videos have english subtitles and I’m working on completing that. It is an ambitious project with the goal of popularising our own artists and creatives and remembering our history in that.

[scrcndipix]

red dawn. 06 | jeon jungkook.

The fall of the Baegyum Dynasty was imminent. Sangyu and his Insurgents from the Clans of the Mountains, known enemies of the royal family, have attacked the Sacred City of Ilsan, once the capital of an empire, now was reduced to ashes. And you have only one mission: to protect with your life the princess and heir to a broken realm. In your way to the neighboring kingdom in search of protection, you find yourselves in Yerin Woodland, territory of werewolves —ancient enemies of the Baegyum Dynasty who would gladly kill an Ilsan priestess like you.

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jeon jungkook x f reader.

wordcount: 13.4k

warnings/contents: nothing serious. just Luna being Luna and Jin and Jimin the bestest boys ever. angst???? (kind of). mentions of isolation and illness.

a/n: ... hi! i know it's been a while (like 3 years lol). i don't really have an excuse, just got into uni after the last chapter and didn't really feel like continuing the fanfic after that. during this time, i've matured the story and gained more perspective. i won't pressure myself to write anymore; i'll update when i'm truly satisfied and confident in what i'm doing. i understand that many people might not want to read it anymore. but for those who do, here's a new chapter. i hope you like it. i will maintain the old taglist, let me know if you want to be removed! take care. 💓

taglist: @shatzkrinslinzki @elliegrace1999tvd @channiespup @wooya1224 @veronawrites @itsoktheresbts @fangirl125reader @holyhumorliteraturelight @danyxthirstae01 @jamlessstars @chimchoom @jksusawife

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The last snows of the season were melting in pools of crystal clear water across the Clearing. In the mornings, the air was so chilly that it froze them, but it hadn't snowed in weeks. The last blizzard occurred on the night of your arrival to the pack, and since then, the signs of the arrival of spring had been clearer and clearer. The days were longer and the afternoons warmer.

As you came down for breakfast that morning, two days after your release on parole, you found out that the members of the pack were in especially good spirits and tremendously relieved.

"Jungkook took the farmers to the fields this morning to check their condition before sowing time after the next full moon," Jimin recounted, sitting on a high wooden stool, while Jin, at the stove, carefully stirred the contents of a huge, steaming pot, "and apparently they're all ready for this year's season despite the hellish winter we've had."

One of them was carrying the Cornerstone, as usual. You sensed the strap stirring and tensing almost lazily when you reached the threshold of the kitchen. The strands of light ghosting around you where you couldn't reach them, though you almost could. It was Jin who was bearing the medallion.

"Ah, thanks the Moon." The older Omega seemed to be very relieved. "Hoseok told me the other day that we were running out of our grain reserves."

Jimin nodded, humming. "Yeah, and since elk have migrated to the Yugseon Steppes earlier this season, we'll be able to organize hunting trips as soon as the snow melts enough for the paths to be clear."

You cleared your throat, not finding any other way to make yourself heard. They both turned their eyes to look at you when they heard you enter the kitchen, and a smile automatically formed on their faces, welcoming you.

"Welcome to the world of the living," Jin greeted you, refocusing his attention on the pot.

Jimin chuckled, pulling a stool away from the counter for you to sit next to you. You suppressed an apologetic smile as you settled in; Jin had strictly forbidden everyone to interrupt you while you slept, stating that it was best to let you wake up on your own, so that you could rest and sleep as long as your body asked. As a result, you didn't usually emerge from your room until late in the morning, even noon.

"Did you sleep well?" Jimin asked, with a mocking tone that made you finally smile.

"You shouldn't get me used to sleep all I want," you replied, leaning your elbows on the counter, "by the time you want me to get up early, it'll be too late."

Your playful answer made them laugh. They were getting used to you behaving like a normal person, laughing and smiling more usually, playing along their jokes and talking comfortably. It was a slow progress, but it was still progress.

"Nonsense." Jin's words were categorical. "You will be more helpful during the sowing if you are fully recovered. So do as I say, I am the healer here."

He shook his wooden spoon up and down, in a threatening manner, before putting it in the pot again. You nodded, forcing a smile although they didn't realize it wasn't genuine. Even if you had all the time you wanted and more to sleep, you couldn't rest properly. You spent most of the night awake, staring at the wooden panels of the ceiling of your rooms. The reason? Nightmares. Horrible, dreadful nightmares. Despite the fact that all of them were different, they all ended the same way.

Your hands stained with dark blood and a mountain of wolves' corpses before your shaking frame.

But of course, you couldn't tell them about that. It's not that you couldn't, because you knew that if you could trust someone in the pack, it was them. No, it wasn't like that: you didn't want, it felt too close to home for them to talk about that episode of your lives just yet.

"Have you ever participated in a seeding, Luna?" asked Jimin, leaning his chin on his hands.

"Kind of," you answered, shaking your head from side to side contemplatively, "it was customary that the High Priestess blessed the fields before the seedtime. Everyone thought that brought prosperity and good harvests."

The two Omegas were listening attentively, just like every time you told them about your life in Ilsan. They wanted to leave a record of everything they didn't know or anything their books didn't have. You found yourself softening whenever it happened, because you couldn't tell why, but seeing them truly interested in your thoughts and experiences made you happier than you would like to admit.

For the first time in forever, someone listened to you and kept in mind your opinions. For the first time in forever, you felt like you could speak your mind because your point of view was as valid as everyone else's. Jimin interrupted your thoughts dragging you back to reality.

"Did it work?"

"Well, I guess so. We never had problems with droughts or plagues. My blessing or pure luck? Only the Moon knows."

They chuckled at your words and Jin placed two bowls of chicken noodle soup with two glasses of warm herbal tea. One was for you and the other for Jimin.

"I can't wait for this year's Vernal Equinox Fest" Jimin commented, munching on his noodles, "you'll love it, Luna. It is one of our biggest celebrations."

You nodded, taking a sip of tea. You had read about it before, all their festivals were perfectly described in the books of the Great Library of the High Temple —Vernal Equinox Fest, Summer Solstice Fest, Autumnal Equinox Fest, Harvest Festivals, Great Moon Festivals, etc. Werewolves' culture depended a lot on the hunting seasons and the farming and lunar calendars, since that was the only way they had to measure the time. Their festivals were large and very important for them, being the most relevant social events in their life in community

Before you could add anything else, someone opened the front door with heavy steps before closing it again. The three of you turned your heads to the kitchen door.

"Anyone here?" Taehyung's voice ecchoed through the corridors from the vestibule.

Your stomach sank in anguish at the sound of the young Beta and you just wanted him to go away. Avoiding Taehyung at all costs had become your main purpose since the incident of the effigy. Even if he didn't seem to hate you at all. That's what disturbed you. He should hate you. He had to, right? How come he didn't? He had treated you normally, even almost jokingly. He told you that he trusted you. How the fuck could he trust you?

You stirred in your place almost uncomfortably. He had to be lying, he had to be pretending. Maybe he was just trying to make you feel save and relaxed enough to be vulnerable around him; maybe he was trying to get close to you, so that he could attack you where it hurt you the most.

Hana's face came to your mind, and your heart skipped a beat. The princess seemed to be already close to him, and that only made you feel even more anxious.

"In the kitchen!" Jin answered, bending down to lift a cube of fresh water to pour it into a new pot.

You turned back to your bowl of noodles and shoved a spoonful into your mouth, pretending Taehyung wasn't approaching the kitchen in that exact moment. Maybe if you ignored his presence, he would just disappear. His steps became louder as he got closer to the room and he poked his head out of the door. 

"I don't know what are you cooking, but I want a bowl of that. It's smells like heaven", he said as he entered the kitchen. 

Jimin smiled. "Good morning, Taehyung-ah," he greeted, spinning on the stool to face him, leaning his back on the counter, "did you hear the news? Seedtime is coming!"

Taehyung flopped down mindlessly on the other stool besides you, gesturing Jin to hand him his own bowl of chicken noodle soup. 

"Yeah, Yoongi hyung told me this morning during our patrol. I guess that by pure stadistic, something good had to happen to us already," from the corner of your eye, you saw he was looking down at you with raised eyebrows, "and it is actually the reason why I am here."

Jin and Jimin waited patiently for him to swallow his first two spoonfuls of soup. Even you mustered the courage to turn your head to glance at him, expectantly. The way he looked at you when he said that the forthcoming sowing was the first good thing to happen to the pack after a series of unfortunate, fateful, disastrous, nightmarish events, told you what you already knew —you were part of those unfortunate, fateful, disastrous, nightmarish events.

"Alpha Kim asked me to introduce Luna to some people today", he explained at last, "since we are starting to prepare for the next winter, people think that she should help too."

You remained silent, munching slowly on your own food. Even if the deal you made with Namjoon and Jungkook only forced you to help them in the war with your power and the Cornerstone's you thought that them wanting you to collaborate in the pack's daily labors was just fair enough. After all, you needed to eat and a roof over your head, and also make amends for your past mistakes. Not that stirring some soil for the sowing or weaving willow baskets for storage could repay them for what you did, but well, it's the thought that counts, right?

You wish.

Jin frowned slightly, abandoning momentarily his cooking task to look at Taehyung directly in the eye.

"It's too early for that, she is still recovering. I talked with Jungkook about it and-

"Jungkook approves it, hyung. " He interrupted softly. "He was with Namjoon when they sent me here. Time flies and with Sangyu in wait, we need all the help we can get."

You sighed ever so slightly, yet earning their attention. Why were they talking about you like you weren't in the room? You were not a person of just sitting and wait for things to be done magically. Since you can remember, people have decided on your life and your fate, you had no voice to speak yourself. Back in Ilsan, no one expected you to have an opinion or a point of view, rather the opposite. And now that you were not the High Priestess anymore, you had all the right to speak your thoughts, helping was the least you could do for them, and you prefered better not to give the pack more reasons to despise you. The sooner they got used to you, the sooner you would stop hating yourself for what you did.

"I'll do it," Jin puffed in disbelief and Jimin frowned, "I'm much better and I'll try to help as much as I can."

Jimin huffed as well, trying to reason with you. "Luna, you cannot just-

"I am not asking for your permission," you cut him off, not trying to sound agressive, but firmly anyway, "I am informing you."

You were not having it, not anymore. As much as you appreciated Jimin, he wouldn't get to tell you what to do. No one would ever decide on your behalf if you could help it. He looked away, biting on his lower lip seemingly frustrated.

Jin glared at you, lifting his spoon to threaten you again with it. "If I find out that you are overworking yourself in any way, I'll put barriers on your bed again and tie you up to them. Got it?"

You smiled at him sheepishly, he sighed loudly, but he made do with that. He took the Cornerstone off handing it to Taehyung, and felt relieved just from the very idea of doing so. Jimin also seemed happy to be away from the medallion for a while. Even if he knew he was going to be the one carrying the jewel during more time because he was the closest to you, he wasn't able to get used to it. Jimin's perfect skin turned pale and sweaty if he had the Cornerstone for a long period of time. The same happened with Jin, though he avoided carrying it as usually as Jimin had to.

Probably because it terrifies them. Yeah. The Cornerstone killed six of them that day, remember?

Your eyes travelled to Taehyung's face; he was clenching his jaw hard, but apart from that, nothing revealed how much he actually hated that medallion. He took it from Jin's hand and put it around his neck. The jewel shone on his chest when a ray of sunlight hit its silvery surface. His eyes shadened almost instantly, and he cowered a little, as if someone had just put an enormous weight on his shoulders. The strap tensed abruptly, like claiming your attention. You felt so bad for the three of them and so thirsty of your former power that you stepped in almost without realizing.

"I could be more helpful if you just let me carry it again," maybe your tone of voice shown a little too much how eager you were for the Cornerstone, because the three men looked at you eye widened, almost scared, "I- I mean, I know you don't like having it and I could do a lot of things, and-

"Don't even think about it," Taehyung said, abruptly, almost harshly.

You didn't push any further, because you knew that would probably had set all their alarms. And you didn't want the Alphas to know that you were trying to recover the medallion even if that's what you needed to do, because how the hell did they expect you to protect them if they wouldn't give you your weapon?

Jimin cleared his throat in order to break the awkward and tense atmosphere that settled between the four of you like dripping and dense fog. He stood up from his stool.

"Well, I'll see you later then, Luna. I have to check on the pups at the Nursery." He bowed his head goodbye to you and to his hyungs before heading to the back door of the kitchen.

You watched him go before turning your head to the Beta to your right, he was already watching you when you locked your eyes with him. Taehyung tilted his head to the corridor. "Come on, it's almost midday."

You got up from the stool, handing your bowl to Jin. He seemed to be annoyed by the situation, but resigned to it anyway. You sighed silently and tried to ease his obvious disagreement.

"It was delicious, Jin, thank you," he hummed, accepting your praise and the bowl, still refusing to look at you, so you pressed a bit more, "can I have seconds at dinner?"

He glared at you, putting his spoon in the steamy pot again. "You'll get bellyache, missy. A balanced diet is essential for a prompt recovery," he turned your back to you, placing the bowl in a washbowl besides the counter. Without even turning to look at you, Jin let out a loud sigh before partially turning his face over his right shoulder. "But I can make it for lunch tomorrow if you want."

You nodded, satisfied, and turned around to follow Taehyung out of the kitchen. You tried to keep a sufficient distance behind him so as not to engage in any superficial and awkward conversation, but close enough not to appear strange or be noticed. Your footsteps on the creaking wooden floor filled the heavy silence between you and accompanied you until you reached the door. When the Beta opened the door and let you go first, you had no choice but to surrender and prepare for the uncomfortable conversation that awaited you from the Pack House to wherever he wanted to take you.

Stepping out onto the porch, the cold air of early spring filled your lungs and immediately cleared your nose. The sun timidly shone through translucent clouds that opened up in large gaps here and there. Numerous puddles of muddy water surrounded the homestead on all sides, the result of roof drippings, from which the last remnants of winter snow had already disappeared. The path that crossed the pack village like a central axis was also muddy and filled with puddles where children jumped and frolicked.

Taehyung cleared his throat to get your attention, and you snapped back to reality, realizing that he was already waiting for you at the bottom of the porch stairs. You apologized under your breath as you hurried to catch up with him, jumping over one of the puddles to avoid getting your boots dirty. He waited for you to reach his side before walking again. The Cornerstone shone once more on his chest as the young man turned towards the clearing, dazzling you in the process. There was something mocking and sarcastic about the way the medallion seemed to seek your attention all the time, as if it wanted to remind you that it was there, and that you had to reach it even if you couldn't. Taehyung didn't miss the glance you cast at the jewel, but as soon as you realized that the Beta was watching you, you looked away as if you had been caught doing something wrong.

"I'm sorry we have to do this," he said, turning his gaze forward. "Carrying the Cornerstone in front of you without allowing you to touch it, and being close to it all the time, but it's Jungkook and Namjoon's orders."

You clenched your fists inside the sleeves of your shirt. You hated not finding any trace of mockery in his voice. He should revel in it, be happy to see you suffer because you couldn't wear the pendant around your neck. He should laugh at you, feel satisfied by carrying the Cornerstone and forcing you to be near it without even touching it. But no, his apologies seemed genuine. And you hated it. You hated not finding the hatred that you were supposed to receive from him.

What are you playing at, Taehyung?

That question had been swirling in your mind relentlessly for the past two days, and no matter how much you wanted to find an answer, you couldn't. And you didn't have the courage to confront him directly and demand answers because he had already given them to you. He trusted you because Jimin did.

You shook your head, shrugging to downplay the matter. "It's okay, I understand, or at least I'm trying to. I'll get used to it."

Taehyung nodded without saying a word, and you both fell into silence again. The truth was, you didn't understand it, nor did you understand what the Alphas were waiting for to return the Cornerstone to you, since it was the only way you could fight and defend them in case Sangyu decided to make his entrance. You sighed, avoiding another puddle languishing in the middle of the road.

It was becoming hard to ignore the leash that tied you to the medallion, which tightened more frequently and stronger. The strands of energy weaving around you grew brighter every day, even in broad daylight, even when far from the medallion. And now that you had it closer, now that you could almost touch the Cornerstone, it even seemed like you could reach them.

You reached out to them experimentally, hoping to see them disappear as they always did as soon as you tried. But no, they didn't disappear. You brushed against them. The leash tightened so abruptly that you almost stumbled over a stone in the path. Taehyung stiffened at your side and stopped, clearing his throat, almost coughing, as if he had choked on a nut. Your blood ran cold, and you were almost afraid to look at him, fearing that somehow he knew what you had done. When you turned around, you saw that he had brought a hand to his chest and was frowning, and he also turned to look at you.

You tried to play it off. "Is something wrong?"

Taehyung seemed to consider his words for a moment before shaking his head and continuing to walk.

"No. It's nothing, let's continue."

Of course, you didn't insist. The sooner he forgot about it, the better for you. Still, the pounding of your heart and the trembling of your hands did not diminish in the slightest. One thing was clear: you had managed to reach the strands of light without even wearing the Cornerstone, which until then, was thought to be impossible. No High Priestess of Ilsan had ever achieved anything like that before, of course, none had spent so much time without the stone. Without daring to move your head from side to side to avoid drawing the Beta's attention, you saw from the corner of your eye that the strands of light still shone brightly around you, even more than before. The leash was so tight that it almost seemed about to physically drag you towards Taehyung.

There was also another thing that was clear, he had felt it. You didn't know how much, or how, or why, but he had noticed something. You squeezed and loosened your fingers trying to calm the beats of your heart, which pounded frantically against your ribs, at this rate, you were sure that all the werewolves in the pack could perceive your distress and nervousness from miles away. There were many things you hid from the members of the pack, perhaps out of pure instinct, because you still didn't trust them enough to tell them. And although you highly doubted that it was a good start for a war alliance, it seemed even more dangerous for them to know what you had just discovered. They kept the medallion out of your reach precisely so that you couldn't use your power for the time being, and if it came to their ears that you could use the Cornerstone to channel that power without having to wear it, the Moon knows what they would do to try to keep you under control.

The memory of the darkness, the cold, and your sanity unraveling like sand between your fingers sent a deep chill sweeping over you. No, you couldn't go back to the isolation cell again. So you stayed silent and kept the secret. Another one.

In an even more uncomfortable silence, you arrived at the Agora, where you could see for the first time and in all its splendor the morning market of the pack. You didn't know that there were so many people living in the Clearing until that moment, and it was the first time you had seen so many souls gathered in one place since the night of your escape from Ilsan. Anyway, it could never overshadow the market days of the chaotic capital of the Rowan Empire. The circular plaza was filled with wooden stalls covered with colorful fabrics, forming a smaller circle following the shape of the Agora around the effigy of the Moon Goddess, which rose in the center of the place.

There were people of all ages scattered in the square, many of them leaving offerings to the goddess, while others walked among the market stalls, inspecting the materials and chatting animatedly with the owners of the stalls. In Ilsan, the markets were the epicenter of theft and fraud, but there, like everything else that happened in the Clearing, everything seemed to move at a different pace.

Something you did notice and couldn't help but ask about was that no one carried any kind of currency on them.

"We don't believe in the monetary system that humans use," Taehyung explained, shrugging as you immersed yourselves in the crowd, "it's much simpler for us to trade with goods or ration cards. Each family in the pack specializes in manufacturing something that we all need, so we simply use exchange to have everything. When that system doesn't work, we pay with ration cards, which are exchanged for something from the pack's common warehouse: grain, wool, wood... Whatever is needed."

That left you as amazed as it did perplexed. Until then, you were unaware that a community could function in such a simple and effective way; it was nothing more than a utopia for a population as large as Ilsan or the great city-states of the South. Once again, the werewolves surprised you with their civilization, often much more advanced than those who called them beasts.

"Don't you ever have problems with that?" you asked, puzzled, while dodging two women who were calmly discussing the value of a ball of wool. "I thought that it is impossible to maintain a completely egalitarian society; there will always be someone who has more than the others."

Taehyung shrugged, without turning to look at you. "We're not a society like yours, Luna, we're a family. But to answer your question, of course we have problems, and not just with the distribution of our resources. But don't worry, Jungkook and Namjoon handle them wonderfully."

Somehow, it didn't seem strange to you to think that the pack operated like the perfectly oiled machine it was thanks to the leadership of both Alphas. You didn't know much about the pack leaders at the moment, nor how their predecessors managed the position, but you had met many powerful men throughout your life as High Priestess, and somehow you knew that none of them could hold a candle to Jungkook or Namjoon.

Call it intuition or experience, but deep down you knew. If the packs had survived Sangyu's attacks, with no wars or internal disputes and with systems as simple but delicate as those, it was because the leaders were exceptionally good at their jobs. Without another word, you followed Taehyung through the rest of the market, enduring with all possible composure the hard stares from all the pack members you crossed paths with.

Since the day you were allowed out of isolation, word had spread throughout the pack that the witch from Ilsan who ruined the last night of the blue moon was still there. By that morning, everyone in the Clearing knew who you were and what you were supposedly going to do for them. If any of them appreciated your efforts or your goal of protecting them from Sangyu, none of them let you know. Quite the opposite.

When you left the Agora and the hustle and bustle of the market behind, you could afford to release the breath you didn't know you had been holding, though not for long. Beyond the circular plaza, the village still extended a bit further. In that part of the clearing were the largest and oldest-looking houses, probably for larger families; there were scattered wooden buildings that looked like barns at first glance, and the rest of the space was made up of meadows surrounded by wooden fences where several domestic herds of cows, goats, pigs, and some chickens and hens grazed peacefully.

There was one building that stood out above the rest. It was also made of wood, circular, and covered by a dome of branches and huge leaves that almost seemed to be your size; it had circular windows forming a clerestory at the highest part and double doors that seemed as heavy as a mountain. You wouldn't have known what that building was for if the answer wasn't precisely at its doors.

There were two elderly people wrapped in white and immaculate clothes. They reminded you of the ones you had to wear as a Novice and later as High Priestess; white was the color of the moon and purity, so said the Patriarch. A nasty shiver ran down your back as you remembered it. Those same clothes were worn by Elder Sang and the other elder who had waited for you to come out of the cell that morning.

So those must be members of the Gerusia. And probably the building was their headquarters, or something like that. They seemed to be discussing something in a low voice, sitting on a long stone bench at the entrance of the place. One of them saw you and pointed you out to his colleague, whispering something in his ear. The looks of hatred and arrogance they directed at you before getting up and entering the building did not go unnoticed by Taehyung, nor did the spit that one of them spat at your feet as you passed by.

If you were in Ilsan, half a dozen Praetorii would have jumped on them just for looking you in the eye; for not bowing to you, they would have been whipped and would have spent three nights in Ryu's dungeons; for spitting at your feet, they would be on their way to the gallows to be hanged.

However, you forced yourself to ignore them and look the other way. Taehyung didn't do anything to correct their behavior either, though you understood. Only the Alphas could confront an elder, especially from the Gerusia. Who knows the trouble that would arise if the murderer witch and foreigner committed such a disrespect with a council elder.

The more unnoticed you passed, the better; the fewer reasons you gave them to hate you, the better. If that meant having to endure treatments as humiliating and degrading as those, you would. You just wished that all the bad things they did to you would come back to them someday. Multiplied by several figures, if possible. The Goddess was wise, and wove your destinies accordingly.

The Goddess shapes the back for the burden. You would have to settle for that for the moment.

"Don't take it personally, Luna," the Beta half apologized when the men had closed the doors behind them, "they take the Sacred Law too seriously. Someday they'll give in even if it hurts their pride."

You sighed, vaguely nodding your head and suppressing the urge to demand to know why he didn't spit at you like they did. He had reasons enough to do it.

"Is there a section in your Sacred Law that obligates you to spit at me?" you asked, knowing that the tone you used hinted at more bitterness than you would like to show.

Taehyung bit his cheeks for a few seconds as he thought about his response. "Not exactly, but there are some about how our enemies are treated, especially those with whom we have had direct confrontations."

You raised an eyebrow. As far as you understood since you were born, werewolves were hostile to anyone who got too close to the Yerin forest, let alone to those who dared to set foot in their territory. You had heard many legends of people who went and never returned, especially travelers and explorers who tried to open a faster and safer route to Ghaleen and the Eastern territories through Yerin. The Steppe Road that descended to Imhan Pass around the forest to the south was plagued by bandits and mercenaries in recent years.

"Do you mean basically all outsiders who step into the forest? I imagine that for the elders, anyone who isn't like you is against you."

Taehyung stopped and turned to look at you, hands on hips and a serious face that made you want to be able to shut your mouth as you did in Ilsan. You also stopped walking and took a step back to keep a more prudent distance from him; the Beta frowned at that last gesture and let his arms fall to his sides as he sighed, as if trying to explain to a child for the tenth time why he couldn't eat a whole box of candy at once.

"Look, Luna, I understand that the elders are not saints in your devotion and that their behavior is not appropriate, but it's not right for you to assume things about how we work here when you have no idea," well, you deserved that for being a loudmouth, "and even less as if we were inferior to you. We are not savages, we were not the ones who attacked and ended the other party's diplomatic mission, or were we?”

Okay. That was a low blow, but probably deserved, if we're being honest. Much to your chagrin and to the detriment of your pride, you averted your gaze with pursed lips, not daring to respond. Taehyung understood the message of surrender and sighed again, softening his expression, though he still seemed annoyed. Did you want to anger him so you could feel guilty about his grandmother's situation more comfortably? Well, probably, you couldn't deny it.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought up that topic again," you almost wanted to punch him for apologizing and making himself look like the bad guy in that situation. He had every right to be angry.

"I'm sorry, that was foolish of me," you conceded, looking back at him with some reluctance. "I don't think you're inferior, or savages, in fact... you're the most civilized community I've ever known."

Taehyung nodded, accepting the apology. "You must learn to understand our way of life and, above all, the Sacred Law. Although it may not seem like it, the Gerusia is wise and helps the Alphas a lot in decision-making and law enforcement... for all of us, not just outsiders."

He said the last part in a lower voice, with a more restrained tone, as if it were something he shouldn't mention. You frowned as your mind connected dots at a speed that impressed even you, and the answer came clear as a candle lit in the darkness of a cave.

"Were they the ones who decided to expel the... rogues?" you asked, also instinctively lowering your voice.

Taehyung glanced at you for a couple of seconds with narrowed eyes, perhaps wondering how you knew that. When you thought he was going to speak to answer you, he turned to walk away, physically avoiding your question as well. You didn't waste time and hurried to catch up with him to walk by his side; one of his strides was like two of yours, but the height difference wasn't going to stop you this time. You remembered that although you had ended eight members of his pack, they had done the same to your sisters from the Ilsan Temple. Well, technically it wasn't them. However, the expulsion of the wanderers from the pack was what gave them free rein to attack Ilsan without remorse in the first place, and if that hadn't happened, you would never have had to take anyone's life. It's not that you wanted to apologize or justify your actions in that way, but it was nothing more than the relationship of cause and effect. The Patriarch always said that chaos is a ladder; and that everything you do, every decision you make, is a step that determines the next one. The flutter of a butterfly in Vinland Desert could unleash a storm in Terlheslin. In this way, everything you do in the present will affect the future, just as the present is what it is because of the decisions made in the past. The whole ancestral hatred relationship you maintained with the werewolves was actually the top of the ladder; the product of a chain of terrible events.

Probably that part of the story where the werewolves massacred half of the Ecclesia was deliberately ignored by all members of the pack, so they could call you a monster and hate you without feeling any guilt. The Beta didn't answer you, but you didn't give up. Although Namjoon and Jungkook had told you the truth during your last conversation in the cell, you knew they hadn't told you everything.

Who were the rogues and why did they hate humans so much?

"I know it was like that. That they were the ones who attacked Ilsan, not the werewolves of the Clearing," you saw that the young man listened to you despite everything because he looked at you from the corner of his eye. "The Alphas told me in the isolation cell before they took me out. But they didn't tell me who-"

"That's a subject I can't talk about, Luna," Taehyung interrupted you, not slowing down his pace. "It's not up to me to tell you. If Namjoon and Jungkook didn't, there's a reason... We've arrived, come on."

You sighed. There were many unresolved mysteries about the pack's past swirling around in your head. Both you and they were hiding things from each other, although you hoped it wasn't as obvious to them that you weren't telling the whole truth as it was to you. That only evidenced what was more than clear: neither the pack trusted you, nor did you trust the pack, no matter how kind Jimin and Jin were to you.

You didn't add anything else, although you wouldn't have been able to if you wanted to. You had reached one of the last houses in the Clearing: one that was especially large, dark, and regal-looking. There was a pergola with a roof of moss and branches near the entrance, under which a large group of people were chatting animatedly around a large table. A squad of children ran around playing, jumping in puddles and climbing nearby trees. A huge tin pot was placed next to the table, over a fire, bubbling emitting a warm smell of homemade food that immediately opened your appetite even though you had just eaten a little while ago. A young and slender woman stirred the contents of the cauldron with a ladle the size of her forearm. Only when you approached close enough, you saw that she was carrying a baby wrapped in a cloth tied to her back.

"Dasom noona!" Taehyung called out as you left the path to approach the front garden of the house where the pergola was.

Everyone turned to look when they heard the Beta, greeting him warmly and patting him on the back. Not knowing quite how to proceed, you stayed a little behind in silence. When the werewolf men's eyes moved from Taehyung to you, they lost any friendly glow they might have had at first. However, the only look that really made you feel intimidated was that of the woman next to the cauldron; there was a latent and icy hatred hidden in her Beta blue irises.

"Is it her?" she asked, shifting her gaze to Taehyung. He nodded and the young woman looked you over again in a way that made you feel as uncomfortable as self-conscious. "She seems frail, I can see her bones under all that clothing from here."

Her words were poisoned, and although they were prepared to hurt you, what really hurt was the wave of poorly disguised laughter that the comment raised among the rest of the people who witnessed it from the table. You clenched your fists behind your back until your knuckles turned white, resisting the call of the Cornerstone, which whispered from Taehyung's chest, challenging you to pull the strands that tied you to the woman to shut her up in the worst possible way.

Taehyung wasn't laughing. "Dasom, please."

The woman rolled her eyes and turned to you, leaving the ladle inside the cauldron. Taehyung seemed to take it as a sign of peace, because he sighed before looking at you.

"Luna, this is Dasom, my older sister," the Beta said, pointing at the woman with one hand, "and Namjoon's mate."

You couldn't hide the surprise that this new information caused you. You didn't know that Namjoon had a mate, and apparently, at least one child, although it didn't seem strange to you in some way. He was a young and healthy Alpha, after all. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if Jungkook had also formed his own family.

Because you took his away. Or at least, part of it.

In addition to clenching your fists, you pressed your lips together. You were sure that when you opened your hands, your nails would have dug into your skin so much that they would have left four crescent-shaped marks. Then, Dasom's aversion in her eyes when she saw you made more sense.

You had also killed her grandmother that day.

This will haunt you for life.

"Well, let's see what you're made of, Priestess," she commented, in such a mocking way that you would have given her a murderous look if it weren't because suddenly you believed you deserved it more. "Have you ever made willow baskets or herded a flock?"

Dasom knew the answer, she probably knew the obligations of the priestesses and the luxurious lifestyle they led. She knew that you had never seen those domestic animals in your life unless it was for some sacrifice or served at a banquet for the nobles of Ilsan. She just wanted to humiliate you a little more.

You let her do it. You shook your head, still with your eyes fixed on the ground. You heard the cruel laughter of her companions again, who seemed to be having a great time with the situation. Taehyung didn't intervene again.

In the misty morning: wet meadows, dried leaves, and absent birds. It was late autumn. Even the streets of the normally chaotic citadel of Ilsan were immersed in a sluggish lethargy that day. But that was only the calm before the storm.

Inside the Imperial Palace, the world was completely different. It seemed like a bubble of madness and frenzy in a calm sea. The recent times had been tense for life at the court after Empress Yuran's multiple and tragic miscarriages, but nothing had prepared humans for what was about to happen that day.

And least of all, you.

Six Praetorii escorted you along one of the palace's immense corridors. That military order, expressly at your service, had been founded the day after the massacre of the Ilsan Temple to prevent something like that from happening again.

As you turned a corner in the hallway, the muffled sound of a crowd shouting and booing reached your ears. You swallowed hard, halting your steps suddenly. The Praetorii immediately stopped without breaking their ring formation around you. The Guard Commander addressed you without looking into your eyes, always with his head tilted down.

"Luna, we must proceed. They are waiting for you."

You nodded, but still did nothing to move from the spot. You knew what you were going to do, you knew what they were going to force you to do. When at dawn the City Guard brought word to the palace that they had sighted and captured a pack of werewolves in the vicinity of Ilsan, you already knew that neither the Patriarch nor the Empress would let them go unpunished for that.

Not after they had murdered all the novices and priestesses of Ilsan in a single day.

The Commander shifted his weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable, unsure of how to make you walk. They couldn't touch you unless it was to physically protect you, after all, or speak to you disrespectfully.

"Luna, please."

To your left, the youngest soldier of them all spoke. It was Kai, the closest person to a friend you had. He was barely fifteen, seven years older than you, but he had already graduated from the military academy with all honors, which had earned him a place in the palace garrisons if he wished. Despite the strict rules surrounding the ritual procedure by which people were supposed to communicate with you, Kai looked you in the eyes and spoke to you as what you were: a little scared girl.

That's what gave you the strength to start walking. All the soldiers followed you as if orbiting around you. The corridor turned again a little further ahead and ended at a stone archway that led to a huge inner courtyard. The Empress's Courtyard, the main one in the entire palace. All the permanent resident nobles of the court were there, as well as most of the inhabitants of Ilsan.

The Patriarch had allowed the entry of commoners into the palace, a historic milestone in the memory of the Sacred City. The crowd formed a wide circle around the center of the courtyard, where some City Guards held motionless a series of furry shapes that you couldn't clearly distinguish from your position at the courtyard entrance, but that you knew perfectly well what they were.

Although the boos and insults toward the werewolves didn't cease, the nobles and commoners parted left and right to open a path for you. The Patriarch was there, facing the werewolves, waiting for you. You moved through the people like a condemned woman to the gallows.

Although you were going to be the executioner.

It wasn't strange to you that the Patriarch had summoned you to take care of that task. After all, it was always the High Priestess who executed important prisoners of war. There was a whole ritual ceremony for sacred executions in the name of the Goddess. But they usually took place in private.

That wasn't a ritual, it was a public execution, probably for the entertainment of Ilsan's inhabitants, to humiliate the werewolves as much as possible in their last moments of life. The closer you got to the center of the courtyard, the sicker you felt. As much as you hated the werewolves, you didn't want to do it, just the thought made bile rise in your throat, threatening to make you vomit what little you had for breakfast.

Your distressed situation awakened the bond with the Cornerstone, and the leash twisted, eagerly pulling, taking your breath away. Three years had passed since the Junction, and your connection with the medallion was more than consolidated, but you were still very susceptible to sudden changes in the energy flows exchanged with the Stone.

So, by the time you reached the center of the courtyard and the Patriarch forcefully turned your arm to face the crowd, you were bathed in a cold sweat that only increased your paleness. The Patriarch raised a hand to silence the crowd, while discreetly digging his nails into your shoulder with the other.

“Citizens of Ilsan and nobles of Her Imperial Majesty Yuran of Baegyum's Court; may health, life, and prosperity be granted unto you” the Patriarch began to speak, his voice echoing naturally off the courtyard walls, “behold the cause of our infinite rage and sorrow, behold the murderers of our Sisters and our former High Priestess; may her travel be brief.”

The crowd rose in a wave of indignation that materialized in the form of insults and more boos. Someone threw a stone, and although you had your back to the beasts, you heard a howl of pain from one of them. You had counted eight. The Patriarch let the people vent their anger for a few seconds before silencing them again.

“As dictated by the laws of the Sacred Scripture, it is our Luna who must end the lives of these impious creatures.”

The grip the man maintained on your shoulder tightened, and you were sure it would leave a bruise for days. The Patriarch turned to look over his shoulder at the werewolves as if they were insects stuck to the sole of his shoe.

“Blood must have blood, and that spilled in the Great Temple must still be avenged.”

Once again, the courtyard filled with voices that seemed unintelligible to you; the sounds reached you muffled, distant, as if they were very far away, yet they filled your ears in a way that almost felt like they would burst. Blood must have blood. That was perhaps the most important sacred quote of the entire dominant religion in the Rowan Empire, even for werewolves. Everyone knew it and respected it, followed it and practiced it.

The Goddess's singular commandment. And also your order to follow, that was your starting gun. The nobles and commoners, still relentless in their efforts to humiliate the creatures with their derogatory and degrading comments and the occasional stone, looked at you with fury emitting dangerous sparks in their eyes. That was the flash of collective hysteria.

The Patriarch, in the face of your apparent passivity, gave you a shove toward the werewolves that nearly sent you straight to the ground. The creatures bared their teeth and huddled in place, bristling defensively.

Indeed, there were eight. Three gray ones in different shades; two redheads and two browns, one of them significantly older-looking than the other. Finally, in the center, there was a huge wolf, much larger than the rest. It was a pitch-black color, its eyes red, staring at you in such a threatening way that you almost recoiled.

It was an Alpha. The Cornerstone had no effect on it, which meant that...

“Avenge your sisters, High Priestess” urged the Patriarch, in the same tone of voice he used to preach his previous speech. “Avenge the Sacred City, the work of our ancestors, the foundations of our world.”

You trembled so violently that the medallion swayed on your chest, emitting pale flashes when the sun hidden in the fog reached its surface with some of its rays. The leash tightened abruptly, making you cough.

A part of you wanted it, you couldn't lie. A part of you wanted to return all the harm they had done to you, added up and multiplied by a thousand. The other part of you, much larger, was horrified by your own thoughts.

“Do it, Priestess!” the Patriarch shouted, starting to lose patience.

The crowd's shouts increased, some beginning to move towards you. And yet, you heard nothing but your own heart pumping blood at an astonishing speed in your ears. You stood petrified, staring into the red eyes of the black wolf in front of you.

Next to him, the older-looking brown wolf growled fiercely at you, showing canines as long as your skinny hand. The rest of their packmates did the same, trying to wriggle under the ropes that held them down to the ground. The Alpha was silent, impassive, with his nose held high and a haughty gaze that made you feel even smaller.

The Patriarch took two steps forward and grabbed you by the back of your neck with claw-like fingers, forcing you to stoop abruptly to be at the beasts' level. Some nobles suddenly fell silent, and the boos wavered at the holy man's gesture.

No one, not even him, was allowed to touch you. But everyone seemed to forget that small detail when they heard the words the Patriarch articulated, leaning over you towards your ear. He didn't whisper them, he shouted them in your ear so that everyone could hear.

“Don't you remember, Luna?” he accused, digging his nails into both sides of your neck. “Don't you remember your sisters' corpses? How these monsters ripped their lives away in front of you? Kill them! I command you in the name of the Goddess!”

The shouts of indignation filled the courtyard once again, and this time you heard them as if they were shouting in your ear, echoing, as if inside a cave. Tears bathed your cheeks and flooded your eyes when you opened them to face your fate. The leash writhed with such fury that you thought it would break, and before you could even realize it, you had stretched towards the strands of light that connected you to the werewolves. You grabbed them tightly and with a sharp pull, broke them.

The werewolves' bodies fell to the ground immediately, lifeless.

Silence fell in the Empress's Courtyard like in a tomb, only the echoes of the boos accompanied you for a few seconds before dying in the vastness of the air. No one dared to utter a word. A dull ringing settled in your ears, and your vision blurred, you staggered and fell painfully to your knees in front of the Alpha, who was still alive. You had never exerted so much energy in the three years you had been bound to the Stone, and suddenly you felt as if a herd of wild stallions from the steles had trampled over you.

The creature had remained as petrified as you at first, and moments passed before it reacted. The werewolf let out a chilling howl that made the crowd take a few steps back, screaming in fear as they cowered behind the line of security formed by the Praetorian Guard.

The Alpha tried to rise and lunge at you, but the ropes and the soldiers holding him back prevented it. The Patriarch pulled your arm back to move you away from it, dragging you across the courtyard floor, while turning to his personal escort.

“Bring me the Reaper's Tear!” he ordered. “Let's put an end to this once and for all.”

That seemed to snap you out of your stupor, because you turned your head towards him like a spring and began shaking it compulsively to refuse, while trying to free yourself from his grip. You knew what that Reaper's Tear was and what it would signify.

"No! I don't want to! Abeoji, no! Please, Abeoji. Don't make me do it, I-"

The slap silenced you, and the nobles and commoners exchanged astonished looks and whispers. Such aggression was punishable by death. You brought your free hand to your left cheek, which was beginning to redden. The characteristic metallic taste of blood filled your mouth.

"You will, Luna," the Patriarch seemed to hesitate, perhaps afraid of his own actions. There would be no way for the Ecclesia to overlook this, “it is your sacred duty.”

A soldier approached with a long white wooden case and bowed to open it for you. He didn't meet your eyes when he said, "The Reaper's Tear, Luna."

You shook your head frantically, trying to pull away, but the Patriarch pulled your arm towards the case. Inside was a double-edged saber, almost as long as your forearm. Embedded in the hilt was a white gem in the shape of a tear. The scriptures said it was a tear of the Goddess solidified into a precious stone, found at the source of the Idris River, in the Northern Mountains.

You had always feared it, but never as much as in that moment. It was an execution weapon, used for special cases where the Anchor Stone was ineffective. It was mainly intended for High Priestesses who had broken their vows in some way.

The Patriarch gripped the saber and closed your fingers around the hilt, using his own hand to cover yours and prevent you from letting go of the weapon. The previously noisy crowd had become as silent as a group of millennia-old statues. The Patriarch looked at the soldiers holding the wolf down with a grim expression.

"Hold the ropes tight. If anything happens to our Luna, you will face the consequences."

In response, the men pulled on the ropes holding the creature to the ground. The Alpha was forced to shrink further into the ground, so much so that he couldn't even lift his head from the cobblestones, and the rope dug into the skin of the pack leader, eliciting a deep growl as he showed all his teeth. You sobbed again, though the Patriarch didn't care, he kept pulling you towards him. There was no way you could escape his grip, as he held you firmly against him with one arm, while grabbing your hand with the other.

"Abeoji, Abeoji, please. I beg you-

“Silence, child,” the man cut you off, half-whispering by your ear, “High Priestesses do not plead.”

You had been explained many times since you passed the Junction. You must not ask; you must demand. And you wanted to do it, you wanted by all means to regain control of the situation and not have to beg anyone. By the time you wanted to realize it, you were eagerly seeking the strands that connected you to the Alpha and thus give him a clean, dignified, and painless death.

But almost all the power you had accumulated in the Cornerstone had dissipated like mist after killing seven wolves at once, so the strands of light were very weak, flickering, like stars in the distance. In addition to that, and as you already knew, an Alpha's strands were not reachable for you; they avoided your touch like oil avoids water.

The Patriarch stood in front of the wolf, still holding you with a force that numbed your whole body. He raised his arm, dragging your armed hand with him, ready to give him a cold-blooded death. Your tear-filled eyes barely managed to discern what was happening in front of you, and you weren't even aware that you were screaming. Still, for a moment as ephemeral as eternal, the gaze of the pack leader came clear and unobstructed into your field of vision.

It had stopped growling, and its body languished on the ground, defeated. In its sad, red eyes, there was no hatred.

There was forgiveness.

You cried louder, screamed louder, writhed more violently. You frantically searched for the strands again, but this time not the ones that connected you to the wolf.

You wanted the Patriarch's. Your arm was already descending on the Alpha's head; you stretched as far as you could towards the strands, trying to grasp them, but it was already too late.

Your eyes snapped open, and the darkness of your room welcomed you back to the land of the living. You opened your mouth, seeking air with your irregular, shallow breaths, your hands clenched into tight fists gripping the sheets between your fingers. You instantly realized you weren't the only thing you were holding onto tightly.

The strands were there, and you clung to them as if your life depended on it. But there was a problem; you weren't wearing the Cornerstone, obviously, and it wasn't even near you. You had no idea what happened to the pendant at night, but you had somehow managed to tap into its power to channel it anyway.

You let go immediately, scared, terrified. How was it even possible? You had grasped the strands in real life after dreaming about it. And even more panic set in, settling in the pit of your stomach like a tombstone at the entrance of a crypt.

Your body reacted before your mind did, and you were already sitting up on the mattress, hugging your knees tightly. What if you had unintentionally hurt someone? In your dream, you had killed seven wolves, just as it happened on that fateful day. Those nightmares had been more than recurrent in recent days, and in fact, there hadn't been a single night where you hadn't dreamed of something similar. But none had ever been so concrete, so detailed.

So realistic. Just as it had happened that day.

In the darkness of the room, you huddled in place, trembling. It wasn't because of the cold, as the Pack House had a heating system that left you as amazed as the rest of the innovations the Clear presented in contrast to the wild and grotesque image you had been instilled with about werewolves. It wasn't the cold, no, it was fear. Of yourself and what you could unwittingly do.

You found it impossible to fall back asleep for the rest of the night, even though you tried. You needed all the energy you could gather for the tasks that would be assigned to you from then on, and it wasn't as if your body had fully recovered from everything that had happened since you arrived at the pack. But you couldn't complain. Keeping silent and obeying was all you could do.

You thought it would be easier to earn respect among the werewolves, or so you had imagined when Namjoon and Jungkook proposed to support them in the upcoming war in exchange for your "freedom" and the promise that Hana would be safe. Not that you had any other option but to accept; playing with Hana's well-being was inconceivable for you, and you wouldn't have endured being isolated and sane for much longer. At that moment, it had seemed like a beneficial deal for both parties, but you were increasingly realizing that it actually only made things easier for them. You, on the other hand, remained in the same position as before. Maybe out of a cell, but controlled, deprived of your vital energy source, watched, and hated.

What had really changed?

That same question was on your mind when later that morning, you saw a cow up close for the first time.

Dasom had taken you to the corrals on the south side of the Clear, where the sun warmed the grass most of the day. That was where the cows gave birth to their calves and where they were raised for the first few days before being moved to the greener, fresher pastures in the northern area. Anyone would think that a small newborn calf next to its mother was an endearing sight to immortalize forever as a memory; Mother Nature in her kindest form; the circle of life, blah, blah, blah.

It terrified you from the moment you heard their lowing up close.

Digging your heels into the muddy ground, you came to a sudden stop. Dasom, the Cornerstone hanging on her chest, looked at you, raising an eyebrow, with a smirk of superiority that would have made you angry if you weren't too busy trying not to run in the opposite direction.

"What are you waiting for, priestess?" she asked, leaning her arms on the corral fence. “Come on, get in. Cows don't herd themselves.”

Clenching and unclenching your fists under the sleeves of your shirt, you tiptoed to the gate of the corral. The cows watched from inside every step you took as they chewed the grass leisurely. They didn't seem to get upset when you infiltrated their domains, nor when you approached them and their offspring. One of them emitted a deep moo, to which two others responded.

The sound startled you, and you flinched. You heard a small wave of barely contained laughter rise behind you, and when you looked over your shoulder, you saw several Hippei and other pack members watching you with a mix of mockery and curiosity that made you blush with embarrassment. Dasom smiled, satisfied and pleased with herself.

Determined not to let them have fun at your expense, you turned to face the cows. Come on, you had survived a city takeover, an arrow shot, and had lived until then in a pack of werewolves. How could a seemingly harmless grass-eater like that scare you?

Pulling on the mothers' bells to guide them into the corral stable wasn't so difficult, especially because they followed each other. They seemed accustomed to it because the cow you chose to lead first didn't even moo when you started pulling on her collar. The rest followed at a painfully slow pace, but eventually, they all ended up inside. The calves didn't stray from their mothers, so they naturally moved with them.

Except for one. It was smaller than the rest, and more agile. Although you tried several times and in different ways, under the mocking gaze of the other werewolves, the calf didn't even let you get close to it. Luckily, it still didn't have horns and was too young to really hurt you when it pushed you out of its way with a headbutt. It sent you backwards onto the ground in a puddle of mud, and it entered the stable alone.

With a heavy heart, you rose from the ground, trying to maintain your dignity as best as you could, and slammed the barn door shut. As you turned to look at Dasom, she didn't bother hiding the smirk of satisfaction on her face.

"We may question your methods, priestess, but not your results," the laughter was widespread. Some of those present began to move away to tend to their respective tasks, seeing that the show was over. "Alright, go tidy up. I'll talk to Namjoon about your next assignment."

You didn't even spare her a last glance before bowing your head slightly and slipping away from the corral towards the Pack House. The mud made your already soaked clothes cling to your body like a second skin. You hugged your torso and quickened your pace. You prayed not to run into anyone familiar until you reached your room, but you didn't even reach the main door before it swung open.

You managed to halt your steps before colliding head-on with someone.

Please let it be Jin. Please let it be Jin.

"Luna?" you cursed under your breath in every language you knew as you recognized Jungkook's voice. You didn't have the courage to look up. The embarrassment tingled in your cheeks. "For Moon's sake, what happened to you?"

Seeing that you didn't react, the Alpha gently lifted your chin with the back of his index finger. His touch sent shivers down your body, and you swallowed hard. Now you were more than obliged to answer.

"Dasom thought I could use some experience herding a flock," you admitted quietly, avoiding eye contact.

Jungkook tried his best not to offend you with a laugh and cleared his throat, clasping his hands behind his back.

"I see, those little ones can be quite unruly. Go change or you'll catch a cold with your clothes this wet," you hugged yourself tighter, feeling mortified, trying to make yourself small in place. Seeing your discomfort, he seemed to want to change the subject. "A calf knocked me to the ground the first time I tried to herd them into the barn...," that almost drew a smile from you. "Besides, I fell flat on my face, so you've done better than me."

You dared to look at him, perhaps to see if he was teasing or being serious. He simply gave you one last half-smile before stepping aside and gesturing for you to enter the house.

You obeyed without saying another word.

That night, you dreamed again of the day you killed the wolves. And you woke up screaming, clutching the strands as tightly as if you had never left the Cornerstone.

The next day, by Jungkook's order, Hana was allowed to have breakfast with you at the Pack House. Sitting at the table in the backyard garden, she barely stopped talking long enough to swallow the oatmeal cookies that Jin, pale from carrying the Cornerstone, had specially baked for her. But it didn't matter to you; just seeing her golden skin regain its vibrant color and the sparkle of happiness in her eyes was enough comfort for you. That's how you knew your pain was worth it. Hana was happy in the Clearing. And you would be willing to return to solitary confinement as long as it stayed that way.

The pack accepted her. They adored her. Even Hoseok. Hana made flower crowns for him and Yoongi every day, and they wore them on their patrols. That sight wasn't funny enough to alleviate the terror you felt towards both Hippei. The memory of Hoseok's fangs on your neck on the night you entered Yerin was enough to make you feel so scared you could vomit.

Shortly before noon, Taehyung arrived at the house with Yeji to pick up Hana and take her with the rest of the children to help prepare the meal for the Hippei going on a long patrol. You could barely hold back the tears when Hana kissed your cheek before running off to Yeji. She waved goodbye and disappeared into the house. You knew the Alphas didn't allow you to spend much time with her to remind you who was in control, and you were grateful that Hana didn't realize those things. Everyone told her that you were very busy helping the pack (which was partly true) and that you would soon be able to spend more time together.

That was just a message to you.

Cooperate, and we'll allow you to see her.

So that's what you did. You helped Jin, now without the Cornerstone, clean the breakfast dishes and headed to the Nursery, where Jimin was with the mentioned gem, performing his own tasks of caring for the youngest pups. You were not allowed to enter the Nursery under any circumstances, so you simply knocked on the door and stepped back a few paces.

"I'm coming, Luna!" Jimin's voice was perfectly audible from the other side of the door.

Your bond with the Cornerstone churned inside you with such force that it almost made you nauseous. You took a deep breath, and upon opening your eyes, you saw the strands as vividly as if they were something physical that everyone could touch. You instinctively reached out, thirsty, hungry, but the strands avoided your touch. You brushed against them. Your whole body vibrated. Sweat began to bead on your forehead. It was agony.

You looked up at the sky. The zenith was approaching again. That thought hadn't left your mind since the moment you left the cell. If you weren't given the Cornerstone before, the stone itself would kill you when you tried to put it on, if they ever allowed you to do so. That had to happen before the Cornerstone regained its maximum energy with the Zenith.

And yet, you were sure you would need a good excuse for the Alphas to even consider the idea.

Jimin came out of the Nursery with a furrowed brow, and you immediately moved away from the strands. The Omega's face seemed to relax somewhat, and he rubbed his eyes. It was clear. The stone bearer could feel it if you tried to reach the strands. That was dangerous. But Jimin wasn't, right?

"Hello, are you okay?" you asked, trying to control the tremor in your voice.

"Yes, it's just that..." he seemed to hesitate for a second. He didn't seem very sure about admitting that wearing the stone made him feel unwell. "I'm tired. I haven't had a good night."

You forced a smile and waited for him to stand by your side to start walking. Your morning task was to weed the fields to the south of the Clearing for the upcoming planting.

"It seems we're both in the same boat, then," your words made Jimin look at you carefully for the first time. Despite starting to gain some weight and generally looking healthier, dark circles still framed your eyes.

“It must be something seasonal,” Jimin agreed, with his characteristic warm smile. Although it didn't last long. “Lately, no one sleeps well. Jungkook has been waking up the entire Clearing two nights in a row in the middle of the night...”

He suddenly fell silent, perhaps realizing that you were not a reliable member of the pack and that he shouldn't talk about those things with you. Lest you use it against him in some way. However, although that would have hurt you in a normal situation, you were too busy processing what he had just said.

Two nights in a row. The nights you woke up clutching the strands. You almost trembled. What if Jungkook found out in some way?

“I really can't imagine someone like Jungkook having a nightmare,” you said, pretending not to have attached much importance to it. “He and Namjoom don't seem like the kind of people who are... afraid of something.”

Jimin turned his gaze forward and seemed to ponder your words. You evaluated his face. He seemed on the verge of wanting to say something. His lips were pressed. There were too many things you didn't know about the members of the Pack. Everything was working against you. You needed answers. Any, at least.

You seized the opportunity.

“Jimin, what's going on?” you asked, halting your walk. If he couldn't be distracted while walking, there was a better chance that Jimin would succumb to the pressure of your questions.

He looked at you. His eyes were filled with the desire to respond. To trust. Hope surged in your chest. You didn't have time to feel bad about what you were about to do; you were too anxious for it. You reached out to the strands and deliberately brushed against them in desperation. Jimin grimaced, and his shoulders slumped. It worked; that was all it took to break down his defenses.

“The Cornerstone... I told him that getting close to it is dangerous, that it makes you sick...” His voice seemed to be dominated by a weariness that you hadn't seen in him until now. “But he doesn't listen to me.”

Did that mean that Jungkook also wore the Cornerstone? When? During the day, someone always accompanied her or was near her, except...

At night.

Was that why he woke up screaming? Did you... manage to hurt him?

“Not long after you arrived, before they sent you to the isolation cell, Jin hyung found something in one of our oldest tomes. One that was destroyed and of which we only preserved a few pages,” he spoke so softly that you had no choice but to lean in close enough to feel his breath on your face. “It said that the power of the Cornerstone only manifests if there is a living vessel, that it...”

“That it only works if the High Priestess wears it, yes,” you completed, but that wasn't all. You were aware that they knew more, and not just from what you had told them. “And also...”

“The Cornerstone must always have a bearer. Even when it's not the High Priestess. This is how the balance is maintained. If the Cornerstone is left alone for too long, without someone to carry it...”

“No one knows. It has never happened, but... It's better not to find out.”

Jimin looked up at you. You nodded. Yes, that was a basic principle. You doubted they would believe you if you tried to explain it, so you had limited yourself to saying that you needed to be close to her to avoid getting sick. That was true, but not the whole truth.

Even so, they knew it all. They knew you hadn't been entirely truthful. Your stomach tightened. A cloud covered the sun and a cold wind rose in the Clearing, tousling your hair.

“Jungkook takes care of it at night, doesn't he?”

Jimin simply nodded.

There was finally complete truth between you and the pack. If they knew that, perhaps they could understand you, perhaps they would understand that all this would be of no use if the zenith killed you. You reached out and clasped Jimin's hand. He started, but didn't pull away. You were trembling. He noticed and took your other hand, concerned.

“Luna, are you okay?”

You didn't respond immediately. Your head was spinning in every direction, evaluating every possible thing that could happen if you did what you were about to do. You looked into the Omega's eyes, and he returned an intense gaze.

You would never be completely sure if you could trust him until you tried. But you needed to trust someone for once in your life.

You couldn't do it alone.

“Jimin. I haven't been completely honest, with you or anyone, and... I'm going to be honest now.”

The Omega squeezed your hands. At no point did you see a hint of anger or mistrust. Only hope. He knew you kept secrets, just as you knew they did the same. You had to start somewhere if you wanted the alliance to make sense... and if you wanted to survive the war that was to come.

“I'm listening, Luna.”

[somasoa]

The True Nature of the Ghost Ship: A Legend of Zelda Halloween Theory

This theory will be citing the gameplay changes and minor story retcons present in The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker HD

In The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker, one of the most iconic parts of the latter half of the game is the search for The Ghost Ship.

 The Ghost Ship is a phantom ship that is present at night in certain quadrants of the Great Sea. The quadrant it appears in is dependent on the phase of the moon on that night - for example, on a full moon, the ship will be present at Crescent Moon Isle. It is translucent in appearance, with tattered sails and the spirits of the dead floating around it, and, without the Ghost Ship Chart, one can sail straight through it. When the Ghost Ship is present, a storm will start, and when getting close, an ominous chant can be heard.

それから、数百年・・・ あのガノンさえ、蘇らなければ このハイラルは永遠に 眠りから覚めることは、なかったのだ

Have you seen it? The Ghost Ship also appears in these seas… On the nights of the downward crescent moon...

Fishman (The Wind Waker) - Translated by Sidier

On Diamond Steppe Island, an island in the southwest of the Great Sea, there is a grotto that Link can enter. Upon delving inside, Link finds a ship graveyard - multiple ruined ships, filled with Floormasters.

Upon exploring this ship graveyard, Link finds the Ghost Ship Chart, which shows Link the location of the Ghost Ship is each night, and, upon encountering the Ghost Ship, he can now sail into it to actually board it.

We learn about the Ghost Ship Chart at an earlier point in the game, when Link encounters Lenzo. Lenzo informs Link that the Ghost Ship Chart was made by a man who sought the treasure of the Ghost Ship and wanted to document its movements. However, upon completion of the chart, the man suddenly died.

ある時、船が壊れてしもうてな わしは潮に流されるまま、海を 漂っておった・・・そんな時じゃ 海の彼方に見たのじゃ 幻のように透き通る不吉な船 そう・・・幽霊船の姿をな うわさでは幽霊船が出没する海域を 調べた男がいて、それをマップに 記したそうなのじゃが・・・ 書き上げてまもなく男は 亡くなったらしい ・・・おそろしや～ まあ、そのマップさえ手に入れば 幽霊船にのりこんで、中の財宝を そっくり頂けるかもしれんがの！

One day, my ship broke and I drifted along the seas, driven by the currents… That was when I saw something far away… A transparent, creepy ship, almost like an illusion… Yes… I saw the Ghost Ship… Rumors say that a man investigated the areas where it appears and wrote up a map, but… He died shortly after completing it… How scary! Well. If you can get a hold of it, you can board it and might able to take the treasures!

Lenzo (The Wind Waker) - Translated by Sidier

When Link enters the ship, he is transported into what appears to be another dimension. The ship appears very similar to one of the many other Submarines in the game or the bottom level of Tetra’s ship, but many parts of it are torn off, and through the gaps are inky black darkness, with the spirits of the vessel seen floating on the bottom floor of the ship.

After defeating the ghostly enemies present, a ladder drops down, which Link can then use to climb up and acquire the Triforce Shard concealed within the ship. An ear-piercing shriek rings out, and Link wakes up on the King of Red Lions, back on the Great Sea, now suddenly morning. 

While this is a fun and interesting questline, the ship actually doesn’t give us much to go on in terms of lore or story. However, this Halloween, I would like to propose a theory based on the limited evidence we have, and determine what exactly the Ghost Ship is and why it protects a Triforce Shard.

To preface the theory itself, it is necessary to establish a running trend with the Triforce Shard locations that are found on the islands of the Great Sea.

The King of Red Lions establishes that when the Hero of Time crossed the boundaries of time and returned to his childhood at the end of Ocarina of Time, the Triforce of Courage from the Adult Timeline was split into 8 pieces and hidden throughout the Great Sea. 

時の勇者が時を旅してハイラルを去る時 勇者のもとを離れ、８つのかけらとなって各地に飛び散ったと言われている

It is said that when the Hero of Time left Hyrule on his journey through time, the Triforce of Courage left him and was scattered among the land in the form of eight pieces.

The King of Red Lions (The Wind Waker) - Translated by Jumbie

While it is never specified in-game if the Triforce Shards were hidden before or after the flood, facts in-game make it likelier that it occurred after the flood. For example, the fact that the majority of the Triforce Shards are found on the surface of the sea rather than needing to be pulled up via the Grappling Hook suggests they were hidden at a time when the islands were the only accessible land. In corroboration of this, the presence of Triforce Sea Charts that reveal the locations of the Triforce shards suggests that their locations were only concealed after Hyrule was already flooded and the world was divided up into maritime quadrants.

Because of these facts, it is very likely the Triforce Shards were hidden in a time when the flood had already occurred and Hyrule had been swallowed by the Great Sea.

Many of the hidden Triforce Charts and Shards are directly hidden behind locations that are tied to the Royal Family. For example, many of the Triforce Shards are hidden within caves that utilize the same type of architecture present in the Tower of the Gods and Hyrule Castle. Furthermore, they are also hidden behind the usage of the Wind Waker, a relic of the Royal Family. While Daphnes may have been in possession of the Wind Waker during the time between the flood and The Wind Waker, this does not preclude the descendants of Daphnes creating seals on the Triforce Shards that would require the Wind Waker to unseal them.

Given this shared architecture, as well as the importance placed on the Wind Waker, it becomes immediately clear that the hiding of the Triforce was done at the behest of the Royal Family, or what remained of it, following the flood. You might wonder, however, what this has to do with the Ghost Ship. 

Taking into account the totality of these factors, it’s likely the Ghost Ship was specifically made by the surviving Royal Family and its servants as a means of protecting a Triforce Shard, similar to how they hid the other Triforce Shards in locations across the Great Sea. However, it’s unlikely that the surviving Royal Family members and their servants created the actual Ghost Ship, given its supernatural origins, so it’s likelier they created the thing that became the Ghost Ship.

Returning to Diamond Steppe Island for a moment, I mentioned that there is a ship graveyard there, and it is in that graveyard that Link discovers the Ghost Ship Chart. However, there is something peculiar about one of the ships present in the graveyard; upon closer analysis (and a bit of clipping through a wall), it can be determined that this ship is just a broken down version of Tetra’s Pirate Ship, as it is identical in almost every way, including the figurehead!

A nigh identical ship graveyard can also be found one quadrant north, at Needle Rock Island, with the same ruined ship. 

However, what does that tell us about the Ghost Ship? Interestingly, the Ghost Ship is also nearly identical to Tetra’s Pirate Ship. However, there’s a noticeable difference; the figurehead is not that of the one found normally on Tetra’s ship, but of a strange figure, with what appears to be its hands clasped in prayer.

Despite this difference, it can be demonstrated that the Ghost Ship shares the model of the ship used by Tetra and her crew, a vessel of the Royal Family, implying that the boats are of the same make, similar to the destroyed boats in Diamond Steppe Isle and Needle Rock Isle.

Strangely, the figurehead of the Ghost Ship has a very strong resemblance to the figures that are depicted in the introduction tapestry of The Wind Waker who were praying to the Gods after the Hero of Time’s failure to appear.

What could this mean? Suppose for a moment these praying figures in the tapestry were servants of the Royal Family, and survivors of the flood - very likely, considering the Royal Family were the ones who had the tapestry created following the flood, given its presence in Tetra’s room on her ship. 

As we know from Diamond Steppe Island, multiple of the same model of Tetra’s Pirate Ship were made, and it’s likely that it was simply the ship style that was utilized by those directly affiliated with the Royal Family. Given the presence of the Triforce Shard on the Ghost Ship, it’s likely that, in life, it was a regular ship that consisted of a crew that protected the Triforce at the behest of the Royal Family. However, as we’re told in The Wind Waker, centuries have passed since the original flooding event.

それから、数百年・・・ あのガノンさえ、蘇らなければ このハイラルは永遠に眠りから覚めることは、なかったのだ

Centuries have passed since then... If Ganon had not revived, Hyrule wouldn't have awakened from its endless slumber.

Daphnes Nohansen Hyrule (The Wind Waker) - Translated by Sidier

Like all mortal men, the crew of this ship dedicated to the protection of a Triforce Shard were doomed to die, whether it be through old age or some other unforeseeable disaster at sea. However, given the presence of the Ghost Ship in the modern day, still protecting the Triforce Shard, is it likely that those deceased souls - the ones who survived the flood, and who protected the Triforce Shard - then went on to continue roaming the Great Sea in the form of an undead crew on their supernatural ship. This would be reinforced by the fact we see a ruined Royal Family ship in Diamond Steppe Isle, which, coincidentally, is also the same location we find the Ghost Ship Chart. We know that the Ghost Ship Chart was made by a man seeking the Ghost Ship’s treasure; is it possible the Ghost Ship killed this man somehow, as a way of protecting the Triforce, and hid the chart in Diamond Steppe Island? If this is the case, it’s likely that it is capable of moving other objects, and is likely the reason the ship graveyard exists in Diamond Steppe Island in the first place.

From there, it is also possible, then, that the ruined Royal Family ship we see in Diamond Steppe Island is actually the “corpse” of the Ghost Ship, and the phantom ship we see roaming the seas is the spirit of this ship transformed, with its figurehead now resembling the praying figures who survived the flood - the servants of the Royal Family, who now, in death, continue protecting the Triforce Shard. However, it’s also possible that the Ghost Ship’s original ship was just an unseen fourth ship separate from Tetra’s, the Needle Rock Isle ship, and the Diamond Steppe Isle ship.

Regardless, this interpretation also explains why the ship disappears once Link acquires the Triforce Shard; the purpose of the ship and its crew was to protect the Triforce Shard, which they would continue doing even after shedding their mortal coils. But now, with the appearance of the one true Hero and his acquisition of the Triforce Shard, they can now leave the Great Sea and move onto the afterlife, their ultimate purpose finally fulfilled.

In summary, the Ghost Ship was a ship that consisted of servants of the Royal Family who survived the flood. The surviving Royal Family hid the Triforce Shards throughout the Great Sea, and one of shard was hidden amongst a group of these servants who had their own ship. However, eventually, the ship was destroyed somehow, and its ruins either sunk to the seafloor or possibly even found their way to the Diamond Steppe Island ship graveyard, either via natural or supernatural means. The Ghost Ship, the twisted and warped spirit of this ship, continued sailing the Great Sea, with its undead crew still protecting the Triforce Shard. A man seeking to acquire this treasure created the Ghost Ship Chart, and dropped dead upon completing it. The chart was then placed in Diamond Steppe Island, somehow, likely related to the Ghost Ship’s supernatural abilities. Eventually, the Hero of Winds stumbles upon the ship graveyard as well as the Ghost Ship Chart, and upon entering the Ghost Ship, he puts its undead crew to rest and acquires the Triforce Shard, allowing the Ghost Ship to end its reign as terror of the seas.

However, there is still much about this ship that goes unexplained. Why was its chart on Diamond Steppe Island? Why does it favor certain islands on the Great Sea based on the phases of the moon? While an answer to questions like these would explain practically everything surrounding the Ghost Ship, perhaps it’s for the best that this phantasmic ship still has some mysteries left unanswered...

[pangeen]

“ Wonderful Kazakh steppe “ // © Adilet Rakhmetolla

Music:  Boris Björn Bagger - Nothing I've Ever Known (From "Spirit: Stallion Of The Cimarron") (feat. Valdo Preema)

[starrysnowdrop]

FFXIVWrite 2024 #21: Shade (#29 Make-up)

Noun: a specter or ghost. Greek Mythology, Roman Mythology; one of the spirits of the dead inhabiting Hades.

During the events of 6.0; While the Ilsabard Contingent struggles with helping the surviving Garlean people, a strange woman is seen roaming the city ruins.

Brief mentions of @traveler-of-light’s WoLs Astrid and Arslan

As Hali continued to follow Jullus around the desolate ruins of the Garlean capital city, all the while shivering in the harsh, unforgiving cold, the lalafell struggled in vain to keep warm, despite wearing multiple layers of clothing, including the fluffy, white fur-lined pink coat Tataru had made for her. Hali thought she had been accustomed to the cold by now after all of her time spent in the endless winter of Ishgard, but as Cid had explained to her all those years ago, even the coldest Coerthan blizzard could not have prepared anyone for the utter inhospitable cold of Garlemald. She didn’t believe him then, as she chalked it up to mere exaggeration. But oh how right he was.

As the blistering winds blew around her, almost blowing the tiny lalafellin woman right off her feet and into the snow, she saw a black shrouded figure moving in the distance, slowly walking through the debris of fallen concrete walls and broken steel beams.

“Wait, is that a survivor over there?” Hali asked Jullus as she stared at the person, who looked like an Auri woman from her perspective. Upon further examination, their scales were nearly as black as their cloak, a Xaela… and so far from the Steppe. The only Xaela that should be in the area are her friends Astrid and Arslan, and also all of those of the Ilsabard Contingent, and they should all be back at Camp Broken Glass. It was such an odd sight that Hali had to do a double take.

“Hmm? Where?” Jullus looked up from the broken down Magitek armor he was inspecting.

“Over there!” Hali pointed towards the figure, who had glanced back at them with a blank stare. All that Hali could see was two piercing eyes whose green limbal rings shined brightly in the surrounding darkness.

“Could it be…?” Jullus inquired under his breath, but Hali didn’t pay attention to the Garlean’s reaction as Hali walked towards the woman.

“Hello there! Do you need help?” Before she could catch up to her, the woman turned and began to quickly walk away. “Hey, wait a minute!”

The lalafell ran to the woman, but when she rounded a pile of steel beams, the Xaela seemed to completely vanish from sight in an instant.

With confusion clear on her face, Hali turned around and saw absolutely nothing. “Huh? But they were right here! Where did they go?” She looked down and didn’t even see any footprints in the snow indicating where the woman would have retreated to. The lalafell looked back at Jullus, who was just as confused as she was, but he didn’t seem as spooked by it as she was either.

Jullus shrugged his shoulders as he replied, “Heh, seems she disappeared once again.”

“She who?”

With a sigh, Jullus looked down at Hali and began to explain. “Several of us have spotted a strange woman in a black cloak wondering around the streets, and as soon as she is spotted, she will disappear right where she stood.”

“Huh? So this has happened multiple times already? But do you have any idea who it might be?”

“Well, I know it sounds absolutely preposterous, but the same sight has been reported by about a dozen soldiers and civilians alike. And that’s not the strangest part.”

Jullus glanced over at the large, imposing, otherworldly tower where the Imperial Palace once stood proud and strong as he continued, “Some have given the exact same details of a figure like the one we just saw: a young woman with features of a Xaela, an Au Ra from the Far East with scales as black as night, and eyes that shine with a bright green glow. The exact same features as the woman whose been rumored to be Emperor Varis’ mistress.”

As soon as Jullus mentioned the Emperor’s name, it all came into focus. She was the Xaela woman who had accompanied Emperor Varis to the meeting with the Eorzean Alliance before the Battle of Ghimlyt Dark, who had spouted the exact same rhetoric as His Radiance had spoken of, and then the name finally came to her conscious mind.

“Persephone?!” Hali asked with a alarmed expression.

“Oh, so you have heard of her then.”

“I have met her once before… but I had no idea that she had survived the civil war.”

Jullus shook his head and shrugged his shoulders once more. “That’s what is so strange about it though. It was reported to Lord Quintus himself that the Lady Persephone had died in the palace shortly before the fighting broke out in the capital. So what is it that we’re all seeing? A frightened survivor? A woman turned monster? Or even a shade?”

With a shiver that Hali couldn’t distinguish as a result of the cold or of fright, Hali pulled in her coat closer to her, and decided to lighten the mood a bit as the two begun to walk back to find Alphinaud and Alisaie. “A ghost floating about the ruins? Well, I’ll be sure to warn Alphy. Heh, I can’t wait to see the look on his face!”

Persephone’s Blog: Coming Soon!

[bestworstcase]

How likely is it do you think that there are/have been Grimm-based cults? I can't imagine there's Never been Grimm cults, and I'm particularly interested in the idea of there being Grimm cults or even just organizations who Actually Understand the Grimm and safely live alongside them. I think it's such a fascinating idea, I'm very tempted to come up with a mysterious faction that respects/admires the Grimm (like how people did/do respect forces of nature in religion) and (mostly) safely lives alongside them. Any thoughts?

two obvious paths. whether the second is viable depends on how well you trust my basic reading of the grimm as sapient beings who reflect back what they’re given—dark mirrors—but the first is textually sound without any extrapolation required.

#1: the grimm as gods of war

these are the salient facts:

the grimm follow groups of bandits around to scavenge in the wake of their raids

criminals in mistral sometimes use captive grimm to execute members of rival gangs

grimm are more strongly drawn by violent anger and hatred than by sadness, fear, or other negative emotions.

it’s possible (per ‘before the dawn’) for one side of a conflict to "ally" with the grimm in battle if the other side is, er, tastier

ok. imagine you have a region where most of the people live in small nomadic groups—perhaps a steppe or a desert, their subsistence base is herding—with smatterings of fortified towns and villages around the edges of the region where there’s arable land enough to support a larger sedentary population. the nomadic groups can’t produce their own weapons/armor (mines, smelters, and forges aren’t portable), so they’ll need to either raid or trade with the towns for that. and conflicts between these nomadic groups over territory and other resources are inevitable.

how do the grimm figure in this region?

well a) the grimm are going to be following the nomadic groups around, with more warlike groups attracting more grimm, and b) grimm will fight alongside people against a common enemy if their "allies" are calmer or otherwise less appealing.

this is like… a perfect storm for the nomadic groups to start venerating "their" grimm as war-gods, in tandem with fostering warrior-cultures that prize tranquility or joy and mercy in battle; there is no honor in hatred or rage or taking pleasure in killing (our grimm turn against those warriors who lose themselves to bloodlust), so a good warrior must be calm, decisive, and swift, and never prolong a fight unnecessarily. but it’s also beneficial to make one’s enemies fearful and angry, or provoke them into hatred.

all it takes is one or two warriors who kept a cool head in battle noticing that the grimm ignored them to go after another warrior who went berserk and then interpreting this as a moral judgment. historically, we know grimm were thought to be the vengeful or corrupted spirits of animals, or animals possessed by demons; both are understandings that encourage this sort of thinking. these are animal spirits that cannot rest because someone killed them without giving due respect, and now they seek to punish those who commit such wrongs… so we’d better take care to treat our adversaries in battle and the animals we hunt with honor and mercy.

and oh, we should pay our respects to the grimm, too. perhaps make some offerings. they eat the corpses of the slain after a battle, so… a) we mustn’t be wasteful when we hunt, it isn’t respectful, and b) we should consider the grimm in our funeral customs.

this is a very basic. BASIC human impulse. humans will try to propitiate the fucking sky because we’re so good at pattern recognition and also anthropomorphizing things that we’ll find patterns and read meaning into the most random coincidences. take that and add it to the fact that it legitimately is possible to form alliances with grimm… fgrhjsv

under these conditions grimm-worship probably tends to look something like:

warrior cultures that prize moderation, calmness, efficiency, and clever mockery or intimidation of the enemy in battle,

funeral customs that ritualize feeding the dead to grimm, and/or ritual sacrifice of captured enemies,

grimm viewed as battlefield psychopomps and/or patron spirits of warriors, whether as a class or as individuals or both, and

incorporation of grimm-like designs or motifs into armor and clothing of warriors, to intimidate enemies.

with wide variation in the details and elaborations. the reason for this common set of foundational practices is that religion is practical. it’s not arbitrary. it isn’t pretend. prayer and ritual are things people do because it works, or it’s believed to work, and the right methods are figured out through trial and error long before they coagulate into tradition. so with something like grimm, whose behavior really can be meaningfully influenced, similar patterns will emerge across different cultures because whether a given practice does or doesn’t work is a) more than random chance or coincidence, and b) extremely easy to identify because if it doesn’t work the grimm will attack you.

& #2, the grimm as nature gods

these are my presuppositions, based on extrapolation from the text:

the grimm have a physiological need for aura, which they can get by siphoning; they eat their prey in order to extract aura from the remains.

grimm attraction to emotions is akin to our attraction to the aroma and taste of food; strong emotions herald deep auras or excite aura so it’s more "nutritious" for the grimm, so they hunt by following emotion.

because aura/soul separates from the body at death, siphoning aura from a living person is much more efficient than killing and eating; grimm will prefer to be fed aura by someone alive over hunting if possible.

because aura can be channeled outward through tools, clothing, etc, it can also be channeled into a repository and stored for a while; this seems to be how the grimm lures in arrowfell work.

grimm are intelligent, emotional, social creatures who can learn to recognize certain groups of people as 'safe' or as friends/allies, without salem.

grimm reflect back the emotional energy they’re given; they’re not "attracted" to anger or pain per se, they just mirror it. bristle and draw your weapon at a grimm, and the grimm will charge at you. remain calm and retreat slowly, and the grimm will keep its distance too.

if all of these presuppositions are true, you can propitiate grimm by saturating an object with aura and leaving that out for the grimm on the regular. i imagine that organic/living things that naturally have aura would work best for this purpose; sacrificing an animal or a portion of your harvest is intuitive, and if fervent religious belief alone isn’t enough to infuse something with aura, then priests or religious officials whose auras have been unlocked and trained will do the trick.

if aura-saturated offerings aren’t possible, then you’d need someone with aura training to channel aura to the grimm through, like, a stick, or bare-handed if they were brave enough or confident enough. this is a more uncomfortable option (like physically) but we have a canonical example of a character doing it: she found it disconcerting, but not painful, and it’s implied that the grimm didn’t attack her at any point during. so a) it probably doesn’t do any more harm than having one’s defensive aura break, and b) stopping the flow of aura to the grimm by moving away won’t provoke the grimm to attack.

as unpleasant the prospect might seem, if it clearly worked to reduce or eliminate grimm attacks on the community, people would do this. people would absolutely do this. the big hurdle lies in discovering that this is possible—like you’d need someone to willingly approach a grimm, lay a hand on it, and channel aura into it without knowing what will happen, and the kind of person who would even think to TRY that is very rare—but once it was known? religious belief motivates people do all sorts of unpleasant, uncomfortable, or even outright painful and harmful things to themselves. fasting. self-flagellation. hermitage.

like… waves hands. if it’s a known thing in a community that grimm won’t attack anyone if a few people go into the wilderness every morning to stand there and pour aura into grimm who pass by until they’re tapped out for the day, lots of people will be fully willing and able to do that. far more than are willing and able to become huntsmen: it’s not dangerous or difficult, it’s just going to tire you out on your assigned days. and if you have say, a village of a hundred people of whom ten are able to do it, you can rotate so no individual has to do it more often than thrice a month. NBD.

and if nothing else except the emotional mirroring thing is true, then you can… more or less propitiate grimm by doing whatever, because in this case what makes propitiation effective is community belief that it works: if you and everyone else around you believes that wearing pendants carved in the likeness of grimm and pouring a libation of wine outside the village gates to entreat the grimm for safe passage through the wilds is effective in making the grimm leave you alone, then no one’s going to panic or raise the alarm upon seeing a grimm wandering around in the barley field, and the grimm won’t freak out either.

if you believe that a grimm is a being that can be appeased and you cross paths with one in the woods, you’re going to do what you believe will keep you safe; for a huntsman, that’s "draw a weapon and attack," but for you that might be "hold up your grimm pendant and recite a prayer to politely wish it well and ask for its blessing in return," which—if the grimm just reflect your emotional energy back at you—will probably make the grimm pause and look at you for a moment before continuing on, which confirms and reinforces your belief that this is the correct way to deal with grimm. This Is How Religion Works.

so all that to say, as long as i’m correct about at least one of these presuppositions—the one with the strongest textual evidence, no less—then propitiating the grimm will reduce their aggression dramatically if not stop it altogether. and if that’s the case then i’d imagine grimm-worship is quite common and also varied in more remote regions where human-grimm encounters are frequent.

the shape of that worship will evolve out of how people in a given community figured out that you can do this with grimm. if one person tries a certain thing and it works, and then more people try the same thing and it works for them to, then that is going to become known as the Thing That Works and it will be gradually refined and elaborated on from generation to generation. and on the other side of the mountains they might be doing the same process but with a completely different thing that also worked the first time.

so you might have a village making huge ritual productions of preparing a feast for the grimm with a portion of the harvest, orchestrated by a coterie of priests who fill the offerings with aura… and in the hinterlands a few hundred miles away you might have a group of nomadic herders who leave the bones of every sheep they eat for the grimm and also have elaborate coming-of-age rituals where you go into the wilderness to prove yourself to the grimm by baring your soul… and up north on the coast you might have a whaling town where sailors pray to something like the leviathan or the feilong as a sea-god because their ancestors happened to stumble into a symbiotic relationship with a giant grimm that preys on whales and realized these little guys in boats make better hunting partners than they do snacks. etc.

basically if you accept a presupposition that the grimm aren’t "soulless evil monsters whose sole purpose is to kill humans" and consider them as beings that have some rhyme or reason as to when they’re aggressive and when they’re not, and the rhyme or reason is something humans/faunus could plausibly figure out how to accommodate and/or influence, there are a lot of ways to build a grimm cult. ’cause religion is at its core humans trying to understand the world so we can keep ourselves safe, healthy, and comfortable; worshipping grimm is just a cultural framework for a threat management program.

think about it in those terms, and take however you think grimm work and ask "what could people Do to lower the risk of grimm attacking them?" and "what might people Do that doesn’t really have an effect but seems like it maybe does?" and then start to elaborate from there with "okay, what stories do people tell to explain why they do these things and how they learned to do these things? how do they conceive of the grimm and their relationship to grimm? how does this shape the social and moral values of this religion?" etc.

praxis comes first, belief second. and the praxis develops through trial and error with the basic goal of "how can we make the grimm leave us alone?" so things that clearly don’t work will be discarded. (with ‘clearly don’t work’ meaning "we did this and grimm immediately attacked us"; people will tend to take "we did this and grimm didn’t attack us for two months" to mean "it worked! we should do it every other month!")

[whencyclopedia]

The Nerge: Hunting in the Mongol Empire

The peoples of the Mongol Empire (1206-1368 CE) were nomadic, and they relied on hunting wild game as a valuable source of protein. The Asian steppe is a desolate, windy, and often bitterly cold environment, but for those Mongols with sufficient skills at riding and simultaneously using a bow, there were wild animals to be caught to supplement their largely dairy-based diet. Over time, hunting and falconry became important cultural activities and great hunts were organised whenever there were major clan gatherings and important celebrations. These hunts involved all of the tribe mobilising across vast areas of steppe to corner game into a specific area, a technique known as the nerge. The skills and strategies used during the nerge were often repeated with great success by Mongol cavalry on the battlefield across Asia and in Eastern Europe.

Hunted Animals

The Mongols, like other nomadic peoples of the Asian steppe, relied on milk from their livestock for food and drink, making cheese, yoghurt, dried curds and fermented drinks. The animals they herded - sheep, goats, oxen, camels and yaks - were generally too precious as a regular source of wool and milk to kill for meat and so protein was acquired through hunting, essentially any wild animal that moved. Animals hunted in the medieval period included hares, deer, antelopes, wild boars, wild oxen, marmots, wolves, foxes, rabbits, wild asses, Siberian tigers, lions, and many wild birds, including swans and cranes (using snares and falconry). Meat was especially in demand when great feasts were held to celebrate tribal occasions and political events such as the election of a new khan or Mongol ruler.

A basic division of labour was that women did the cooking and men did the hunting. Meat was typically boiled and more rarely roasted and then added to soups and stews. Dried meat (si'usun) was an especially useful staple for travellers and roaming Mongol warriors. In the harsh steppe environment, nothing was wasted and even the marrow of animal bones was eaten with the leftovers then boiled in a broth to which curd or millet was added. Animal sinews were used in tools and fat was used to waterproof items like tents and saddles.

The Mongols considered eating certain parts of those wild animals which were thought to have potent spirits such as wolves and even marmots a help with certain ailments. Bear paws, for example, were thought to help increase one's resistance to cold temperatures. Such concoctions as powdered tiger bone dissolved in liquor, which is attributed all sorts of benefits for the body, is still a popular medicinal drink today in parts of East Asia.

Besides food and medicine, game animals were also a source of material for clothing. A bit of wolf or snow leopard fur trim to an ordinary robe indicated the wearer was a member of the tribal elite. Fur-lined jackets, trousers, and boots were a welcome insulator against the bitter steppe winters, too.

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