#steppe route

[yoga-onion]

[Image above: ‘The Celtic Princess’ by Gaston Bussiere]

Legends and myths about trees

Celtic beliefs in trees (2)

- Who were the Celts?

Celtic means 'unknown people' in Ancient Rome and was not originally a term for an ethnic group.

The Celts appear to have migrated to central Europe around the Danube River in the early to mid 1st millennium BCE. They were first discovered around 500 BCE by the Greek historian Hecataeus of Miletus, calling them 'Kertoi'. Or 'Celtae' in Latin, and later the Romans called them ' Galli'. However, it is unlikely that the Celts in question were conscious of themselves as having a 'Celtic' identity.

The latest archaeological and linguistic evidence suggests that the Celts have their roots in western Central Asia, around what is now southern Russia and Ukraine.

It is not clear how the ancestral Celtic peoples arrived in Europe, but as mounted nomads based in the steppes, they probably travelled westwards along the Steppe Route and entered Europe. It is estimated that from around 1000 BCE onwards, they moved inland from around the estuary of the Danube River and extended their settlement into the lower Alps.

As their population grew, they dispersed to all parts of Europe in search of new lands, and by the 3rd century BCE they had settled over a wide area, from the central plains of Turkey in the east, through the Balkans, Hungary, the Czech Republic, Austria, Switzerland and northern Italy to France, Belgium, Spain, and Britain and Ireland.

木にまつわる伝説・神話

ケルト人の樹木の信仰 (2)

〜ケルト人とは？

ケルトとは古代ローマで「未知の人」を意味し、もともとは民族を示す言葉ではない。

ケルト人は前１千年紀の初め頃から半ば頃に、ヨーロッパ中央部のドナウ川周辺へ移動してきたと見られる。前500年頃に彼らを最初に発見したのは、ギリシャの歴史家、ミレトスのヘカタエウスで、彼ら��「ケルトイ」と呼んだ。またはラテン語で「ケルタエ」、のちにローマ人は「ガリ」と呼んだ。

しかし、当のケルト人が、自らを「ケルト人」というアイデンティティを持って意識していたとは思われない。

考古学や言語学の最新の証拠により、ケルト人のルーツは中央アジアの西部、現在のロシアの南部・ウクライナ辺りにあると推定されている。

ケルト人の祖先がどのようにしてヨーロッパに到達したかは不明だが、草原を拠点とする騎馬遊牧民として、草原の道（ステップロード）を西進し、ヨーロッパに入ったのであろう。前1000年頃以降、ドナウ川の河口域あたりから内陸部に入り、アルプスのすそ野に居住地を広げていったとみられる。彼らは人口が増えるにつれ、新天地を求めてヨーロッパ各地へ四散し、前3世紀までには、東はトルコの中央平原からバルカン半島、ハンガリー、チェコ共和国、オーストリア、スイス、イタリア北部を経て、フランス、ベルギー、スペイン、そしてブリテン、アイルランドに至る広範な地域に移住した。

[crazymecjc]

half baked thought bc I’m actually chewing drywall abt this trailer rn but I’m really interested to see if and how bachelor route leans into film as the vessel for performance rather than theatre- I think it’s a fascinating narrative shift that really articulates the difference between the haruspex and bachelor routes. “any choice is right as long as it’s willed” really reflects the ever changing and in-the-moment presence of live theatre whereas with “there is only one truth,” the film has been made. the events have already come to pass. they are preserved in time ad infinitum. which also adds to the tragedy of daniil dankovsky i think :)) idk i just think its Neat and i am so so incredibly excited about this game cannot wait to see the sillies again :))

[fennelwasp]

Playing pathologic 1 now to fill the time waiting for pathologic 3 and the advice I’ve been getting has been… fascinating

[inblackwoods]

Isidor and Simon, Daniil and Artemy

There’s one line that Daniil says to Yulia that has been driving me absolutely batty. Yulia says:

“You can call these demons what you want… you may refer to the Hair Eater as ‘time’ if this will make you any happier. I am comfortable with a more juvenile vernacular. It is what I am used to.”

And Bachelor replies: “You are repeating something that Isidor had once told me, almost word for word…”

When did this conversation happen? We don't have many letters between Daniil and Isidor to know how well they knew each other or how often they spoke. How did they meet? Why? How close were they? It’s hard to say, but Daniil refers to Isidor as “[m]y gentle associate, my selfless advisor.” Assuming he’s not being sarcastic, this is high praise. It also makes me think that Daniil took Isidor’s words to heart- deeply. That means that this idea, that people can be using different words to talk about the same things, is one that Daniil is more comfortable with than he’s always given credit for. Bachelor might be more open to setting aside semantic/linguistic differences for the sake of finding middle ground to agree on.

In the introductory healers cutscene, Daniil says, “it seems unlikely that we will ever get along well,” and then a few moments later he amends that statement to, “no… We won’t ever get along.”

That sounds sad. He seems almost like he had hope that the other two immediately dashed to pieces. Before, it was "unlikely" that they would get along "well," not impossible that they could get along at all. Now it is simply "we won't ever get along." He seems uncertain, perhaps because it is against his hard logic to completely bar any possibilities without confirmation. And he is usually adherent to standard social etiquette/ideas about politeness. It is possible that certain ideologies can find overlap and find a means of coexistence. But unlikely. Termites and Utopians don't often share tables. 

But Isidor tried to teach him that they could, and Daniil tried to remember that.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

something about Clara and the Albino just makes my heart ache, and their relationship deserves more content and recognition because it’s so sweet

the fact that he loves her unconditionally and doesn’t care about who or what she is. he isn’t afraid of her. he just loves her so, so much.

[rabbitcruiser]

Shades of Brown

What do you think about my pic?  

[9th-nueves]

Hot take maybe? Pathologic Classic isn't hard. Like, at the very least in the current year, it's FAR from the hardest game i have ever played... which honestly begs the question of why is it so infamous for it's difficulty outside the fandom.

Just to preface, i ABSOLUTELY believe the game is made to "fuck with you". Like that's just a core design aspect, it throws curveballs at you when you least expect it to keep you on your toes... but also to create the illusion of difficulty. The narrative and ambience of the game emboldens the (somewhat lacking) mechanical aspects, in a way, into looking way harder than they are. But once you get past that (and the first day) the difficulty of the game drops significantly and only spikes suddenly in certain days thanks to special story beats.

And, like in most games with a time limit, i would say it's the time mechanic that completely rules over the difficulty of Pathologic.

You are told to keep track of the clock from the very start, and that's very sound advice on day 1: you wake in the morning, so you don't have the usual 24 hours, and yet you have to complete quite a few quests, get familiar with the Town (and the game), and start collecting resources. Naturally, it takes while, and most likely you'll end up with barely a few hours (or minutes) left at the end of the day.

But for the rest of the game? I always had extra time. Finished every side quest with far more extra time to spare than i should have, sometimes having to even pass the time sleeping (not necessarily because i was exhausted) to get the plot moving. This was more noticeable on my Haruspex route, which wholly allowed me to go wandering into the steppe to look for herbs and yet still have time to cross the entire town again to get to the lair and throw my stuff into the chest to go bartering.

And this might seem rather inconsequential in regards to the difficulty of the whole game, but i would say it's actually crucial.

If there's time, there's a way. Every single one of your necessities becomes FAR more manageable the moment you realize this, because with *all* that free time on my hands, i dug into all the trashcans, bartered my soul away with the kids, sold bartered stuff i didn't need to get money for food, broke into houses, etc etc. Not even infection gets that bad when you have the time to go looking for antibiotics and bandages: i spent the extra hours of one single day as the Haruspex and got my hands in 18 pills (among a bunch of other stuff).

My want to not "waste time" (as in going from point A to point B and getting a fence in the face for trying to take a short-cut) arose mostly for a need to not waste real time, because the game is snail-paced. I frankly got bored and tired of walking around that much, specially in days where quests weren't THAT interesting as to get me thinking about them for half an hour.

The only truly difficult days are the shorter ones. When Daniil got knocked out trying to enter the Abattoir and i opened the status menu in front of Block's face and saw it was 2 fucking PM, i panicked. When Artemy got ambushed in Rubin's door and thrown into an infected jail hours later, i panicked. These days, if you didn't play your cards right before, you are fucked. There's barely any time to get resources, and you can scramble to get them, but you are going to be getting really close to failing your quests— if not outright doing so.

And sure, i did panic —the game has been telling me that time is very much important and that is probably the intended reaction— but i wasn't, really, in any danger of either failing a task, dying of exhaustion, or starving. The previous days had already allowed me to gather enough resources that i could just sprint from NPC to NPC solving all the quests and finish them up before the end of the day. The surprise factor is very strong in shaping your perception of the difficulty, spiking it unpredictably, but if you spent the slower days taking care of your needs and learning the mechanics there isn't much to fear. Even death is rather inconsequential when you have quick-saving.

The difficulty of Pathologic classic is a weirdly tall tale which i would be very grateful if someone explained the origin of. Ironically it really made the game take me by surprise: i expected the mechanics to be uncompromising and to scrape by the skin of my teeth, but the real difficulty was not zoning out too much during the ten minute walks across town just in case a plague cloud jumped in my face and learning how to decipher what the fuck these people are saying. Nobody told me the game had this much walking involved.

[whats-in-a-sentence]

As late as 326 BCE, when Alexander of Macedon led his troops into the Punjab (Figure 5.8), even the best-educated Easterners and Westerners knew almost nothing of each other's existence.

Figure 5.8. Between East and West: the late-first-millennium-BCE tissue of trade linking East and West across the Indian Ocean, Silk Roads, and steppe highway.

"Why the West Rules – For Now: The patterns of history and what they reveal about the future" - Ian Morris

[rathologic]

helloo rathologic how does it feel to always be so based.....i have an actual question: since there were originally meant to be 7 playable characters in p1, three of them being the ones we have and also the planned alexander block and aglaya, who do you think would be the other two characters? or just overall which characters do you think would be interesting to play as?

Benedict from the 2002 techdemo! since he did largely get developed into the person we now call the bachelor, it's hard to say how he fits into the original seven wrt: none of the healers really existing at this point. but an intriguing guy he "knows nothing about medicine" and is making it up as it goes which would be SO fun in a healer... if I had to guess any other "unique" npc from that demo it'd be kuron, who was at least relevant enough in the writers' heads that his name was reused as a mythological figure in p1

it's not a big chance at all but the techdemo including maria kaina makes me wonder if they'd conceived of letting us play as her-- with 7 playable characters incl. the emissaries you can't have em all be healers right? She's very different from the maria we have in the final game but in any case maria route would be fascinating :-)

[consciouschunkofmoss]

i need to play daniils path again i need to see eva and be a bitch to everyone at all times

[solbaby7]

I love the blurb bar idea and I loved the pina colada one, how about a neat gin n tonic with a salt rim?

[ forced proximity: “you can’t seriously be insinuating that i should sit on your lap.” + smut + az ]

guys i got carried away 🫣🤭 but at least it’s finished and has minimal spelling errors 🤍🩷

-> BLURB BAR <-

To put it quite frankly, you and Azriel didn’t really get along.

It seemed almost easy for everyone else in the Inner Circle to latch onto him; to gravitate towards him and all his shadowy mysteriousness—but not you. Between his victim complex, lack of self-control and the inability to properly communicate his feelings like a normal person, you’d lost your patience for him long ago.

Maybe that’s why you laugh right in Rhysand’s face after he lays down the guidelines for your temporary deployment to the Steppes. Everything sounds perfectly normal up until the end when Rhysand’s lips form the words, “—and you’ll be going with Azriel; he’s already been briefed.”

“Very funny,” Shoulders shake through your laughter, tickled from the joke. “But, you don’t have to go to such lengths just to make me laugh Rhys.”

Your grin fades comically fast and the deep frown that takes it place doesn’t falter long after you’ve left the High Lord’s office and scrounged back to your own chambers to pack. Every move is mechanical, clothes being folded and stuffed away a little rougher than necessary as you try not to think about having to spend seven whole days holed up in a creaky cabin with some brooding bat.

To be fair, Azriel seems no happier than you about the situation, his signature brood securely in place when you meet on the balcony at the witching hour with bag in hand. “Come—let’s get this over with.”

You refrain from commenting on his attitude; hold yourself back from snapping when he snatches your duffle from your grasp just to watch it disappear in a puff of sentient shadow. They’d almost be cute—Azriel’s shadows—if they weren’t so fucking useless. Capable of procuring intel and acting as camouflage but can’t manage to hold two fae long enough to get them to the Illyrian mountains.

No, instead you were subjected to this. Close contact and his fucking hands holding onto your body as he flies on a route you’re unfamiliar with. You eye his wings cautiously, trying to be subtle when you peek over the strong line of his shoulder but being this close? He can feel every beat of your heart against your sternum. Every squirm and twitch of a limb as you try to find a more comfortable place to put your arm. “Will you stop moving?”

“I can’t help it,” Hips shift once more, one leg hitching just a little higher on his hip. “Your fucking daggers keep poking me.”

Azriel tenses up, muscles locking and suddenly you’re being moved how he pleases—both legs wrapped around his waist and a firm forearm clasped around the base of your spine. “Stay.” His voice is rougher than your used to, his blunt nails biting into the sliver of skin exposed to the elements. “Don’t move, we’re almost there.”

That was a lie—it would take hours to make it to the Steppes but the gruff command is surprisingly easy to follow. And while you’ll never verbally admit it, the secure bracketing of his arms around your body was more of a comfort than a nuisance. It’s all too easy to ease into his grasp, allowing sleep to take over until the journeys over and you swear you can feel him cradle you in closer, his nose ghosting over the crown of your head.

He makes absolutely no comment on it when you finally arrive with your hair ruffled, clothes crinkled and the imprint of Azriel’s syphon on your cheek other than a chuffed out, “You snore.”

Instinct screams at you to make some snappy comment back but reason doesn’t allow it to be voiced—not here. Here, you and Azriel would have to appear as a united front, for the males raised in this terrain were bred to sniff out any and all weaknesses to exploit. Only here do you allow the hand that permanently glues itself to the dip of your back, pushing you past rabid animals swollen with pride and snarling with hatred.

Slurs are spat from their lips but Azriel doesn’t pay them any mind, so you don’t either.

He walks through the camps as if he owns them, spine straight and shoulders square. Strong wings stand proudly behind him, shadows guarding your flank until the unforgiving chill is replaced by the stuffy warmth of a mess hall. It’s cramped—a little dirty and smells like a mixture of male and tobacco but either way you’re given a warm meal and fresh water to drink.

The vulgar comments grow more frequent, mutterings of their unwanted appreciation towards your body so sickening that your appetite threatens to scurry away. “They’re disgusting.” You scoff, setting down your tray of food, one hand curled around the chair.

It doesn’t give. Azriel’s boot curled around the leg holds it in place. Arched brows furrow at him, nose scrunching under the effort it takes not to kick him in his shin but there’s something about his body language that make you stop. “They’ll keep doing that shit if they think you’re free game.” Every syllable is clipped; laced with a wildness you’re unfamiliar with—almost as if he’s insinuating that it’s your fault that such brutish males were salivating at the sight of you. Darkness cloaks the hazel tones of his eyes when he meets your own and you nearly miss the gesture he makes.

One hand patting twice at his lap.

“Absolutely not.” Azriel’s boot shoves the seat away completely when you make a move to sit down on it once more. He settles deeper in his own, thick thighs manspreading as deft hands adjust the positioning of his holsters, guiding sharpened weapons away from the area of space he frees up for you. “You can’t seriously be insinuating that I should sit on your lap?”

“I’m not insinuating anything, this is me telling you—sit down.”

You pray he doesn’t see the blush that burns against your cheeks when you take a seat in his lap, his hands resting along the sides of your hips. He keeps eating as if nothing is new. As if he doesn’t realize the way his touch has you squirming against solid muscle through thick leathers, legs subconsciously parting to make more room for the wandering fingers that slide down your thighs, digging into sensitive inner thighs. “What are you doing?” You ask, barely able to grab at the food before you with the way your hands shake.

“I’m sending a message.”

Breath catches when you feel Azriel’s thigh flex between your legs, pressing against your sex in such a way that you’re certain it’s impossible that he hadn’t felt the way you clench in response. “What kind of message?”

“The kind that says someone already owns you.” People are looking, that much you know—can feel their eyes tracking every move. Azriel’s hand splayed over your stomach, his head tucked in the curve of your shoulder as his free hand spies its way through your breeches. There’s a pause, one where you’re time to push him away, to declare that this was entirely too far and smack him clear across his face.

That doesn’t happen. Your legs only part further, making more room for needy fingers to shove past your panties.

It’s a foolish decision, you can feel it the second you make it. As if you’d just unconsciously confirmed the ridiculous notion that you were one of Azriel’s possessions. To do as he pleased. To sit there splayed out across his lap like some puppet and allow him to take the reins and show off all your tricks until you’re boneless and drooling.

He’s too good with his hands. Too slick with the sly filth he mutters into your ear as he fondles at your clit under the table, pressing firm circles into the bundle of nerves until you’re panting like a bitch in heat.

You barely remember how much you hate him when he touches you like this. Until the orgasm fades and your consciousness clears and even though the way you lean into the dip of his neck appears like some typical lovers embrace—bystanders fail to hear the sharp way you sneer, “Tell anyone about this ever and I’ll fucking kill you.”

[autisticbachelor]

goodBYE "daniil dankovskys fun steppe vacation & artemy burakhs tormentous nightmare" the bachelor is in fucking HELL now. pathologic 2/haruspex route is going to look like a nice stroll in the park next to this

[elbiotipo]

your post about potatoes in fantasy worlds made me base my primary fantasy continent off sudamérica so i could use fantasy versions of andean and amazonian fauna/flora. I'm still trying to figure out how to change the geography enough to have the big desert i want in the right area(andes get an offshoot that encircles a rain shadow desert in the central north is the best idea i have) but actually being forced to consider how native wildlife works and needing to create trade routes if i wanted imported crops was fun. i was also trying to figure out why the southern hemisphere has more hot climates than the north and something said it's because the south on earth has less landmass so i think having the northern hemisphere above it be mostly tropical works if I have mostly archipelagos? also every time i see a european based fantasy have potatoes or tomatoes i shake my head and scowl.

The reason why the Southern Hemisphere seems to have more hot climates is indeed simply because the continental parts don't spread that far South to actually cold southern latitudes. The only place that really sticks that far south to have a truly cold climate is the Patagonia. And of course, Antarctica, which by coinicidence, basically surrounds the South Pole.

Here is a map of "temperate" latitudes, or rather, latitudes between the tropics and the polar circles (as someone who lives here, or indeed an Australian can tell you, many places there are not "temperate" at all but more on that below). What is important here is that the southern hemisphere has less places closer to the pole, except, again, Antarctica, while the northern hemisphere has lots of land near the poles. This is why we don't have our equivalents of say, Siberia, for example. The closest thing is again, Patagonia. Honestly an underused place for worldbuilding, with the steppe, the glaciers, the temperate rainforests, and the recently extinct megafauna, but I digress.

You could in fact have a tropical "north" if you keep most of the northern hemisphere's landmasses near the equator (here I'm picturing some kind of big Indonesia or Caribbean, an area where tectonic plates collide and there's lots of volcanic islands and lands), and you could place a big continent in the South to make it a cold South. Interesting reversal on the cold North/warm South of most settings.

This would bring some interesting effects, though. Placing a big landmass on any pole (not a small one like Antarctica) would lead to glaciation, as land is "colder" or rather less moderated by ocean (more on that later) and glaciers grow, and glaciers and arid land have greater albedo, reflectivity, that is, and so they reflect more sunlight, thus those place become colder, and the glaciers keep growing, and so on, until there is an ice-age. I don't have the link where I read it with me, but I recall that continents shifting to polar latitudes might have triggered ice-ages in Earth's past.

Deserts are very tricky to place. The standard worldbuilding recommendation is that the interior of the continents are drier as you get away from the sea, and that mountain chains and high terrain serves as rainshadows that stop rain from the sea. However, there is a lot more to it. A LOT more.

You can find deserts even next to oceans, in the so-called "horse latitudes", the meeting points of the Hadley Cells that circulate air from the Equator to the subtropics and beyond. The details are a bit technical, but what this means basically is that they create jet streams of circulating air at 30° South and North, keeping the climate sunny, warm and dry. This is indeed where many of the world's coastal deserts are: Atacama, Kalahari, and of course, Australia.

Meanwhile, in the equatorial zone, the "trade winds" (because they have regular wind patterns that have historical formed major sea trade routes, worldbuilding hint!) converge in the Equator, forming rainy areas... but not quite that simple.

The Intertropical Convergence Zone, where these winds meet, ocsilates during the year, creating monsoons, but as always, there are lots of factors involved. In particular, given our real life scenario of rapid climate change and global warming, a warmer temperature means more intense ocsilations. This makes monsoon events sharper (more droughts and floods in those regions) and more strong La Niña/El Niño events, which are their own thing, influenced by the Pacific which is a huge factor in global climate.

And this brings me to ocean currents. Usually, being close to the ocean moderates the climate, making it more rainy and warm, or at least stable. However, if the surrounding sea is cool, it means less evaporation and less rainfall, especially if it's influenced by cool polar currents (this is the case of eastern Patagonia, for example, with the cold Malvinas Current). The opposite is the case in, for example, Europe, where the warm gulf stream moderates climate, making it warmer and rainer compared to the same latitudes in the US and Canada. I'll admit I'm not very well informed on how ocean currents work, but the depth and salinity of the ocean have much to do with it. What basically happens is that dense salty water sinks and and this works as a "conveyor belt" for warm less dense surface water to flow over it and over great distances. These currents are slow, but since the ocean is so massive, they move extensive amounts of heat across the world. I will admit defeat here and just say I don't wholly understand how it works, but I can tell you this; if your world has a less salty ocean, your currents will be less strong, which means that the differences of temperature between the poles and the tropics will be sharper as there are no strong currents to overall moderate temperature. If this is all too complex for you as it is to me, the quick cheat is just looking at this map: warm water flows from the equator, and cold water flows from the poles, and they create "gyres" around the oceans and the Equator, and cold currents contribute to colder and drier climates (note the Canary, Benguela and Peru currents, the Malvinas current is not shown for some reason...)

Did I forget something? Oh, yes. A colder climate of course, means less rainfall, because there is less evaporation and there is much water "trapped" in glaciers and snow. Which seems to be the case during the last ice ages. Rainforests and forests in general retreated as deserts expanded. In fact, the few forests that remained served as refugiums for species that only expanded again once the ice age was over. Some especulate that this might meant a 'weakening' of megafauna, as they were trapped in those refuges with lots of interbreeding and weakened populations when humans arrived on the scene. Here is a very interesting map:

Now, there are some contradictions here and there, some researchers have said that the climate wasn't that dry and while I'm not an expert I tend to agree, many parts that are "extreme desert" there might be scrubland instead. But overall, it seems that colder times bring drier times too.

I'm still not done, but I'm almost done! According to the Biotic Pump theory, forests might also influence the climate and rainfall in a big way, basically, evapotranspiration (plants sweat, a lot, 90% of water through a plant evaporates to the atmosphere) in forests might actually create by itself the rainy environment where forests thrive, so for example, the Amazon is a rainforest BECAUSE of the forest there. I think with the increasing droughts here in South America we're seeing that theory proven in practice, as deforestation of the Mata Atlantica, the Chaco and the Amazon is causing less rainfall in the centre of the continent. Forests and plants also have a cooling effect, since they fix carbon dioxide, and also a bit of a warming effect, since they have darker albedo and so absorb more sunlight. I'm going to be very lazy and instead of reading a thousand papers say that they overall have a "moderating" effect.

Well, I could go on and on but I think I've already written way too much, so I'll leave you this to munch on a bit. It might seem like a lot, but when in doubt, you can always "eyeball" it by comparing real regions of Earth, and it will help you to create more interesting world than the omnipresent "spring-summer-fall-winter" temperate standard in so many settings.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask! Oh, and also, if you found this helpful or interesting, I would appreciate a tip to my ko-fi!

[lazy-sixteen]

Daniil why would you say that???

Watching Pathologic (classic HD) while on break from suffering in Pathologic 2, and it really struck me how different the first meeting with the Bachelor was in each game.

Pathologic 1, well, only a screenshot can do it justice,

(Yes . . . far be it from me to call myself a person of mystical inclinations. However, when I look at you, I get the feeling that nature is playing jokes on us. It is as if both the left and right hand have clutched the head to realize for the first time they are two parts of a single whole.

>Why?

>I get that feeling too. Does that mean that we are alike?)

That's like the first thing he says to the Haruspex, and while yeah everybody in Pathologic talks like that to a degree, even in game, in character that's a wild thing for Dankovsky specifically to say.

We just spent an entire playthrough as this guy mocking and/or having breakdowns over the existence of the supernatural - especially precognition. And in strolls this 6'2 resting murder-face dude with half-a-medical degree, widely thought to be a serial killer (kinda true), and Dankovsky's like,

"BTW, my heart is telling me we're kinda two halves of the same whole.😊❤️"

Absolutely hilarious. Even funnier is that the Haruspex, grumpy at baseline and currently having the worst day of his life (so far), can agree with him. Great first impression all around!

Then over in Pathologic 2, the Bachelor is high-key fumbling, like fumbling so hard you can get an achievement for it.

Carpetbagger - Remind a colleague of the Hippocratic Oath -- and fail

Not to meme on the guy (who is of course, multi-faceted and at his core deeply altruistic even if he often seems to have trouble expressing that on an individual basis), but initial Pathologic 2 Bachelorencounter is Daniel at his most prickly prick.

He gets Artemy's name wrong (possibly on purpose and definitely twice),

condescendingly demands the Haruspex be his errand boy,

basically calls himself the smartest person in a room of 2,

and can accidentally imply that he left a couple of orphan children to die because he doesn't treat mutts (he actually refused to treat the orphans' dogs).

Yikes - no wonder Artmey spends the first couple of Days taking cheap shots at the guy.

I mean in both Haruspex routes eventually he ends up very friendly with the Bachelor, which makes senses on a thematic level given the some of the Haruspex's major themes/ideals are connection and community. You could say their first meeting was changed to be funnier ("Vorakh") or more in character for the expected tension between two people under a lot of stress who can both be difficult to get along with at baseline

However, what about if we look at it from a meta-narrative level?

While you can play Pathologic 1 as either the Bachelor or the Haruspex on your initial run, it's pretty common knowledge who you are supposed to play first.

"Daniil Danokovsky's Fun Steppe Vacation was just the tutorial for Artemy Burakh's Tormentous Nightmare" - HBomberguy in Pathologic is Genius and Here's Why

This means that the player in Pathologic 1 has already been introduced to Daniil - even if Artmey hasn't - and the game reflects that! You the player know the Bachelor, you've been him, and you probably got really attached after keeping him alive for 12 horrible, horrible days.

Even though you know he can be a bit sanctimonious and dismissive, the player knows he's rational and compassionate and thus already used the evidence at hand to figure out Artemy hasn't killed anybody!

Of course one of the first things you (the player) would want to do as the new protagonist is check on your former avatar, and the game rewards you for it! Talking with the Bachelor on Day 1 as Artemy can raise your reputation - which is super critical. It might be the increase that keeps you from getting hunted in the streets or starving as shops refuse to sell food. What a great first (Second?) impression!!

Daniil's unprompted "hey are we soulmates or is it just me?" line is funny, but meta-narratively it is also true. They are the player's first two avatars, taking turns being puppeted by the same you as protagonists through the same overall story to two opposing conclusions. They are (your) right and left hand. You've played Dankovsky, (you) know this and having previously been the protagonist this new Dankovsky seems to subliminally know this too.

Meanwhile over in Pathologic 2, the only route is the Haruspex - disregarding the Marble Nest (worst day of Dankovsky's life [so far, ad infintuum]) which has enough time fuckery going on that I shall disregard it for this analysis - you can only be Artemy Burakh.

Either under the assumption that the player of Pathologic 2 hasn't played Pathologic 1 or that they've played all of Pathologic 1 including Changeling' Route's extended murder hide and seek between Dankovsky and Burakh, We (the player and Artemy) don't know Daniil when we meet him in Pathologic 2 as anything but the broken man we saw in the depressing into.

Is he our friend this time? Is he our enemy? Whatever he is, he's certainly a sanctimonious prick.

(Today's tragedy won't be the last. I was blessed with a naturally high intelligence, and my observations indicate that a very deadly visitor has come to this god-forsaken town. That's all I can say for now.

>...I don't like you, Bachelor Whatever.)

In Pathologic 2, both the player and Artmey meet Daniil Dankovsky at at his worst, and slowly work-up from there because both of us are meeting, getting to know, and building a relationship with him for the first time.

This is actually parallel to how you first meet the Haruspex in Pathologic 1 as the Bachelor!

If you are playing in the intended order, both the player and Daniil don't know anything about Artmey besides the serial killer rumors, and likewise you meet him at his worst - (in prison and later he murders a young woman to get Daniil the infected heart he needs to try and develop a vaccine). Much like we see the worst of Daniil's classism, arrogance, and inability to connect beyond quid pro quo (hehe, latin) in our Patho2 intro; in Patho1 we initially only see Artemy's standoffishness, brutality, and stubbornness.

Interestingly, following Daniil's themes/ideals of transcendence and rationality we (the player and Daniil) don't actually end up connecting much with Artmey on the Bachelor's route. The player is influenced by the puppet, and why would Dr. Daniil Dankovsky - whose route is plagued by betrayal, manipulation, and the difficulty of connecting to even people who do selflessly care for him (like Eva) - make friends with a violent, possibly dangerous guy who practices a sort of medicine Dankovsky doesn't believe in?

(I couldn't find a good screenshot for this, but mentally insert a picture of Artemy doing a roadside dissection)

Basically if Daniil is the player's protagonist he won't reach out, because in-character why would he?

If Artemy is the player's protagonist, Daniil will try to be friends in Patho1 (because of the player's previous actions affecting both avatars) or in Patho2 Artmey will eventually connect with him because that's in-character for him.

Overall, I suppose this means that Danii's instant and uncharacteristic buddy-buddy attitude with Artemy on the Haruspex route Patho1 is completely justified from a meta-textually narrative, as is his horrific fumbling in Patho2.

And it is also very, very funny.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Just This Once | Cassian x Witch!Reader

Summary: After a witch has been discovered in Windhaven, Cassian has been sent to bring the creature back, and ‘domesticate’ her, according to Rhys. It proves a difficult task, but he soon discovers that you aren’t as ‘strong and independent’ as you seem.

Word Count: ~4.6k

Warnings: Mentions of death, blades, fighting, basically kidnapping, past trauma, light angst, but happy endings with snuggles.

A/N: got carried away with this bc it was originally just the fighting scene and I decided to flesh it out some…lmk if you want a part two, hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

When Cassian had heard the news of disappearances in the Illyrian Steppes, he expected the usual, the ancient beasts that lurked in the woods getting a bit too bold or hungry. It didn’t happen often, but when powerful Illyrian males were gone without a trace, taken during the night with only the barest signs of a struggle…what the hell else could it be?

Or at least, that’s what he’d thought until he’d been summoned to Windhaven by Devlon, who seemed a bit too eager for him to arrive. That was the first sign that something was wrong. He and Devlon shared a very mutual hatred for each other, mixed with only a teaspoon of respect.

Everything began making more sense as he strode into the camp, or more accurately his entire theory on the beasts shattered to pieces as soon as he entered the center of the camp and saw you in the center.

“Your blood will pay for this,”

You hissed, iron nails on full display as you were held down by multiple males, most of which had deep claw marks on their skin, only clotting because of their immortal blood. As soon as his gaze locked with yours, he heard the snapping clang sound as your metal teeth slammed down, and bared at him.

He’d heard rumors, sure, old folktales and rumors of creatures like you, but in all his centuries of blood, gore, and horror, he had never actually come into contact with a witch, let alone one from the Ironteeth Clans. As much as he would love to believe he hadn’t seen a thing, that you were just some other random creature he could kill and be done with it, those nails, dripping with Illyrian blood, and your teeth, caked with it….

Mother above, he needed to tell Rhys about this. A witch, let alone an Ironteeth witch, in Illyria, killing men and devouring them under the cover of night. But for now, he needed to deal with this, a temporary solution…

*********************************************************

You were pissed, but not surprised.

The males in this village were quite stupid, but even the dumbest of creatures would eventually notice that they were being picked off one by one. The worst part? They had played you like a fool, setting up one lonesome male as bait, and luring you in before trapping her.

You thrashed and hissed, clawing at the males who were stupid enough to loosen their grip on your wrists, and as soon as their skin was punctured they shoved you to the ground again. One of them finally had the wisdom to push you onto your stomach, their knee pushing down on your back to keep you down.

From your limited sight, you could see one particularly large male talking to who looked like the overseer of this camp, Devlon, the other males here had called him. They seemed to be in heated debate, before with a huff, the overseer reluctantly seemed to agree with something. He barked out orders to some of them, and the next thing you knew, they had restrained and grabbed you, dragging your writhing body somewhere, and then you were thrown into a pitch-black room, a door slamming behind you and twisting with what sounded like a locking mechanism.

You were immediately on your feet, feeling around for any sign of an escape route, your eyes easily adjusting to the darkness. It was a small cell of sorts, made of stone and sturdy, no matter how you pounded and banged against the walls, they showed no sign of relenting.

And so you were trapped, at the mercy of your prey.

*********************************************************

“You’re telling me that there’s a witch in Windhaven that’s been eating the males?”

Rhys’ doubtful and exasperated tone didn’t surprise him. He knew his brother only had the best intentions, and being High Lord wasn’t exactly an easy job.

“Yes, I’m telling you, I saw her nails and - gods, she had iron teeth, Rhys! They put her in a cell to hold her for now, but what the hell are we supposed to do?”

Cassian said, his voice frenzied and just as confused as Devlon had seemed. What were they even supposed to do to a witch? The Illyrians would want it killed as a retribution for the males they lost, but then they could have an entire coven of angry, pissed-off witches looking for blood. Gods, this was a mess.

“Bring her here.”

Rhys then said, his tone cautiously neutral. He had his scheming face on, a plan already forming in that clever head of his.

“What?”

“Bring her here. We can put her on a watch, and keep her under our control. Then we’d have a bargaining chip if any other witches show up.”

“This is a bloodthirsty witch, Rhys, not a pawn in your political games. She might hurt someone, or-“

“Then domesticate her. I’ve no doubt you’re the person for it.”

He said with an infuriatingly dismissive wave of his hand, his eyes going back to the paperwork on his desk. Sometimes he wondered if Rhys was genius or stupid, and this was a very large gamble. With a huff, Cassian relented.

“Fine. Where are we going to keep her?”

He asked, an annoyed frown already forming on his face.

“The House.”

“You’re putting a witch in the House of Wind?”

“Yes. Get going, you have a witch to transport.”

He stared in disbelief for a moment as Rhys, shaking his head and muttering under his breath stormed out of the office, shutting the door behind him, bordering on slamming it. Outside, he was met with Azriel leaning against the wall by the door, clearly waiting his turn to go inside, and also eavesdropping.

“Seriously, Az, can you believe this? Give me some backup here-“

Azriel shook his head simply, going to walk into the office. He looked over Cassian once, then spoke.

“Good luck.”

He said, not even a hint of pity in his voice. The bastard. It was Cassian against the world today, apparently.

His mind already running to thoughts of how this witch would probably gut him in his sleep, if not while he was awake just to enjoy making him suffer, he walked outside and took off for Windhaven.

*********************************************************

The world went from dark stone floors to dusty dirt ground before you could even realize it. They were dragging you again. At least they had the sense to tie you up, even if you could easily shred through them with your iron nails though you kept them retracted.

This time, you were dragged towards the male who’d been talking with Devlon. The males seemed to hate him, it was obvious in their scents, but they held a certain begrudging respect and even a hint of fear of him.

His eyes were a warm hazel, and he had a rugged handsome look about him, just enough stubble to not be too much, his hair shoulder length and dark, tied back. He had quite the muscular build as well, a few scars, and he reeked of annoyance as you were nearly thrown at him.

He grabbed you by the ties around your wrists, inspecting them and knowing that it wouldn’t stop a creature like you, born of darkness and inhuman strength.

“You are coming with me, and you are going to behave.”

His rough voice thundered out. The other males watched, some eager to see a fight break out between you and him. You laughed, a raspy, amused laugh.

“I will behave how I see fit.”

You replied your voice nearly a hiss. You were parched, your throat dry as a desert. Witches didn’t bow to the likes of anyone or anything, and she would not bow to this male. A Blackbeak bowed to no one, a statement carved into her very soul.

“Unless you want me to rip those pretty iron parts out, I’d suggest behaving well.”

He said, looking wholly unamused and unthreatened by you. A threat to a witch’s iron teeth and nails was something that couldn’t go unpunished. But now wasn’t the time, and she knew that despite the snarl that ripped through her throat.

The male forced her to walk beside him, and without warning, his wings flapped powerfully and he took off, cutting through the sky while adjusting her to be loosely held in his arms. An intimidation tactic, most likely, his loose grip a threat that he would drop her if she put up any fight.

It worked.

*********************************************************

Cassian wasn’t sure what he’d expected from the witch once in the air, but she was putting up less fight than he’d expected.

The wind howled past his ears, creating that tunnel-like feel he was all too used to. His wings pounded against the wind, carrying the both of you to Night Court, where he was supposed to willingly let a witch live with him and Azriel. He still hated that, and he probably would forever.

You seemed oddly mesmerized by the wind, as if it also sang to your blood, urging you to go higher and higher like it always did with him, carrying him away in a flurry of instincts.

Well, at least you hadn’t tried to attack him. Yet.

Only minutes later, he was landing at the front of the House of Wind. He could see the surprise in your golden eyes, sharp and cunning, at the sheer height of the House. It wasn’t shocking, as it was up a 10,000-step staircase.

He jutted his chin in the direction of the House, walking inside.

“The House is sentient, it’ll give you everything you need, and nothing more.”

You seemed amused by that, huffing out a humorless laugh.

“A self-serving house, perfect for your soft-hearted race.”

Your voice said, raspy and mocking, an irritating smirk on your face, despite him having the upper hand. He growled at the insult, his wings flaring in irritation.

“Watch it, or I’ll show you just how soft-hearted we can be.”

He snapped, immediately regretting it as your smirk widened. You wanted a reaction, you were feeding off of them and he was supplying you with them.

“I’d love to see what an overgrown bat can do on the battlefield. Flap aggressively at the enemy? Terrifying, truly.”

You retorted, at which he turned to you and snarled again.

“You and I are going to have some problems, I can already tell. If you’re so eager to get your ass handed to you, then you can wake up bright and early, and we can work this out the traditional way.”

He snarled, and you looked utterly ecstatic at the possibility of fighting him that he regretted that offer too. He wasn’t too good with being threatening, especially when you seemed to love the concept of fighting, which was standard for a witch, he decided.

“Gladly. See you in the morning, bastard.”

You drawled, one handful of iron nails suddenly sliding out and scraping lightly over his leathers as you walked past him. The comment made him stiffen. How had you known he was a bastard? You could’ve overheard it in the camps, but still…

*********************************************************

The House thrummed with an ancient power, a sentient one according to the big Illyrian brute.

Witches operated by many beliefs and rules, but one of the biggest beliefs was that males were useful for two things only, rutting and food. Which was why you didn’t care much for him, and certainly didn’t respect him whatsoever no matter who he was or why.

The House led her down one of the many hallways. You could smell someone else here, someone who reeked of shadows and darkness, but stayed hidden, only watching quietly. The shadows seemed to move unnaturally here. You snarled at them, feeling idiotic for growling at nothing, but your iron teeth came clamping down over the normal ones in an instant.

The feeling of being watched remained, despite that, so you only left those hallways and hurried to the room that the House provided her.

It was spacious and comfortable, with a bathroom attached. The floor was a recognizable wood pattern, the bed having the same silky sheets and burgundy blanket as the one you’d laid in so many years ago before everything had fallen apart and fractured into pieces. The room held pieces of your past that the House shouldn’t even be able to know about.

It creeped you out to no end, and as you’d expected, the bathroom was the same. Recognizable. Spot on to the home you’d once shared with that male so many years ago, that had been the beginning of the end for your happy life.

You searched the room for any weapons, only finding one old knife under her pillow, the knife you had been forced to leave behind.

And so you curled up in the bed, and closing your eyes, willing your body and mind to relax despite the suspicions and questions that haunted you, you fell asleep.

*********************************************************

Cassian was starting to regret challenging you the other day.

You had shown up for breakfast, looking pissy about having to wear the Illyrian leathers, the only clothes in the room’s closet, instead of normal witch attire. The material squeezed you just right in all the best places, especially your thighs….it was distracting him more than he liked to admit, his self-control was waning and you weren’t even one day into training with him.

“What is this shit?”

You asked in a harsh tone at the breakfast he’d asked the House to provide you. It was a healthy, balanced meal, he ate the same dish, but larger to accommodate for his size.

“Breakfast.”

He replied simply, still chewing a mouthful of his food. She scoffed, and after a minute of pure silence from her, another plate popped onto the table, as well as a glass. A plate of meats and a glass of finely aged blood. He shot you a glare, before sighing and taking another bite of his food as you began digging into yours.

You were insufferable, he knew that for sure.

At least you are your breakfast quickly, that was a mercy, letting him drag you out onto the training fields quicker.

“Follow my le-“

He said before you cut him off.

“No. I don’t want your flimsy training.”

You practically hissed at him. He was getting fed up with you, both annoyed and attracted at the same time until he couldn’t tell which was which.

And so, he took his shirt off and began his stretches, slowly working his muscles up and back to life in a rhythmic manner. You seemed to do the same, however you had your routine of stretches that seemed like second nature to you, until your body was worked up and sweating, just like his.

When you were both finished, he turned to face you, sword in hand as the light gleamed off of his muscular body. He gave a lazy smirk, confident and sure of himself and his abilities.

“Ready, princess?”

He asked, knowing full well how angry the nickname would make you.

Your iron nails shot out, sharpened to a lethal point, as your iron teeth clamped down. You gave a wild, wolffish grin to him, the kind that made his knees go weak, before charging straight at him.

He knew from the moment the combat started that he’d underestimated you. You were a force of nature, iron gleaming, a glittering whirlwind of death as you immediately advanced, already circling him, going to strike.

He was on his feet, prepared for anything as his blade remained steady in his hands, his body automatically taking a defensive stance. He blocked, iron meeting iron with a metallic clang as you moved again, faster than you should’ve been able to move, your blow harder than it should’ve been able to be.

This dance of death continued, speeding up and gaining traction until you were both blurs of skin and iron meeting against each other. A third person remained, one that both of you were too engrossed in the sparring to notice.

The shadowsinger.

He watched as you got frighteningly close to Cassian’s jugular, only to be met with a blow to the ribs, bloodthirsty as you were, it barely seemed to affect you as you were on your feet and attacking again. You were overloading Cassian almost, your speed unmatched, and only his pure skill in combat kept him equal with you.

It was a beautifully frightening thing to watch, but after what was nearly forty-five minutes, you somehow managed to find a lapse in Cassian’s defense and struck him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him as he was then shoved and pinned against the ground, sharp iron held steadily against his skin.

“I win.”

You said with a nearly feral grin, clearly very happy that you’d won, and only stroking your ego further because of it. Cassian grumbled something, pushing you off of him and getting up, dusting himself off. You both would have bruises in the morning if not a few healing cuts.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?”

He demanded an answer. In all his centuries, he’d never seen a fighting style like that. Free and wild but kept just enough under strict control that it was devastating to anyone unlucky enough to face it.

“My coven taught me, Blackbeaks all learn to fight, but that was before..”

You said, the first part glimmering with pride, but trailing off, before you shook your head and dismissed it. He noticed but was quickly distracted by another of your comments.

“See? I am better than you.”

She said with a cocky iron grin, finally letting her metallic nails and teeth slide back up and out of sight as she let her ponytail down. The blatant insult made his wings twitch, but before he could snap and say something, Azriel entered the ring.

“I wasn’t aware witches had their own fighting style.”

His quiet but firm and steady voice spoke out. It seemed like he’d just stumbled upon them, ready for his morning training, despite him having been watching for nearly an hour. You gave a sharp grin and a nod, though a bit of curiosity lingered behind your gaze. He was the one she’d noticed watching her last night.

“Would you mind sparring with me?”

*********************************************************

You’d gotten your ass beat by Azriel.

Cassian had been shouting and encouraging him from leaning against some of the railings, watching as Azriel managed to somehow both outmaneuver and outspeed you, a witch.

It was humiliating, but he never once made fun of you (though Cassian seemed the opposite). A Blackbeak wasn’t supposed to lose, losing wasn’t an option for a witch. But maybe…maybe it was fine, just this once, just to learn from this mysterious figure who’d been watching her.

Cassian and Azriel then took a turn at each other, and Azriel (unsurprisingly) won, at which he went back inside and off to his office to get paperwork and whatnot done, or whatever poor excuse he’d had to leave you and Cassian alone after seeing the tension between you two.

“Az really handed your ass to you, huh?”

He asked with a smirk, walking inside the House as it provided another meal for the both of you. You rolled your eyes and spoke.

“What even is he? He doesn’t smell normal, or look it for that matter.”

You then asked, drawing attention away from your embarrassing ass beating as you dug in.

“A shadowsinger, he controls the shadows ‘n shit, uses them as his little spies. He’s quiet, but we love ‘im.”

He said with a shrug, before catching onto her changing the subject and grinning with his mouth full.

“No, no, I still want to talk about how bad you were beat out there. You’re a witch, isn’t your job to…y’know, kill males and eat them or whatever?”

That struck a nerve, he realized a bit too late, as you snarled at him.

“Shut it. The only thing you males are good for is rutting and feeding, anyway.”

His eyebrows rose in both amusement and surprise. Was that what witches believed?

“Easy, princess, what’s got you so mad? Other than the obvious.”

You angrily chewed and swallowed a bite of meat, sighing before replying in a snappy tone.

“Blackbeaks aren’t supposed to lose. You win or you die, that’s how it’s always been, and I just…”

“You can’t win everything, you know?”

“But I should. I have to. That’s what I’ve always done, and I don’t see why I’m not doing it anymore now.”

“Who says?”

“The Matrons, the Covens…every single other witch to exist..?”

He sighed, putting his fork down with a clatter and looking you dead in your golden eyes.

“Are you sure they’re right? Because it sounds to me like you’ve just been blindly following without thinking at all.”

Your nostrils flared. He knew it had been a risky thing to say. You stood up, fist slamming into the table.

“How dare you question the Matrons? You have no right-“

“Do I, or is that just what you’ve been told to believe?”

That made you shut up for a moment.

It made you shut up, and most importantly, it made you think for the first time in a good while. You had always been told that you were a witch, a Blackbeak, heartless, soulless, and hated by everyone and thing in this wretched world. Things had always been so clear, and you’d been happy to obey, because who wouldn’t?

Things were easy when you just had to follow. When you didn’t have to make your own decisions or pick and choose, when you were told everything from the start, and that was that. It was easy when you were already shaped into what they had wanted from the beginning, so you didn’t have to go through the ache of growing into your own person.

Being told what to do, how to do it, when to do it, and everything except why was so dangerously easy.

And you’d been a fool, blindly following this entire time.

Cassian watched you just silently stand there, looking conflicted, before you slowly sat back down, studying him with a scrutinizing gaze.

You swallowed, trying to find your voice to at least just say something, to ask one of the millions of questions in your mind.

“You..weren’t told what to believe? How to think and act and feel?”

You asked, the hint of vulnerability in your demeanor making his heart ache. His expression almost softened.

“No, not like you were. I do things because I want to do them, or need to, not because that’s what I think I’m supposed to do.”

He explained, his brusque voice now calmer than ever when speaking to you. Explaining self-autonomy to you, a powerful being who could easily control their body in battle, but not their mind, always told what to do and how and when was strange, to say the least.

“How?”

You then asked, your voice cracking slightly, confusion tainting its usually stern tone. How could someone just do things for the sake of doing them, or because they wanted to? Did they not have rules here for these Fae? Was control and respect for those more powerful, not a thing here?

“Just…try doing the first thing that comes to your mind. What do you want to do right now?”

He asked, at which you swallowed, wracking your brain. What did you want to do? Cry. Sit here and cry like a baby until you can’t cry anymore, spill out every one of your secrets and feelings and thoughts to this male who had bothered to look past your exterior. And so you did.

*********************************************************

Cassian was very surprised when you just started bawling at the dinner table out of nowhere, but a smaller, wiser, and more instinctual part of him had known.

He immediately abandoned his seat, moving to your side before hesitating and wondering what he was doing. This was a witch. A dangerous, bloodthirsty female could be faking this just to get him close or lower his guard.

But most importantly, this was a female who was upset, vulnerable, crying, and needing any form of comfort, and if he wasn’t that comfort then who would be?

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

He asked, gently lifting you into his arms, carrying you over to the couch where he sat down, you in his lap, and began shushing and reassuring you, one hand running soothingly against your back, his head on top of yours. You started babbling a story so quickly that he could barely catch the majority of it.

“My coven, they left me there, because I had a human lover, and he’d killed a witch before. They found him and they..they,”

You hiccuped and sobbed, crying against his chest, almost weeping. He felt more than just a pang of anger that your coven would abandon you in the Illyrian Steppes alone, all because you’d taken a human lover who had a history with witches. He could only imagine what they’d done to the poor man. He tried to ignore the pang of jealousy he felt at the thought of you with another man.

“It’s alright, let it out.”

He murmured in a soothing tone, hoping it was helping. At this point, he was so far gone that he would do anything to make you stop crying, and stop hurting. And maybe his advice of doing whatever first came to your twisted mind hadn’t been the greatest, because as soon as you stopped crying, sniffling, and trembling in his arms, you gently cupped his cheek, and as if the world was moving in slow motion, kissed him.

Fireworks went off through his entire body, all his nerves responding immediately, and he understood now why he’d been so worried and comforting for you, why he’d cared for you.

Mate.

The bond between them chanted, and based on the way your eyes widened and you began crying anew, he assumed you felt it too. He couldn’t pull away from the kiss, not now, and not anytime in the foreseeable future.

His body seemed to move on autopilot as he carried your trembling form down the halls to his bedroom, still relatively empty despite the many years of living in it.

His head told him this was too early, that you didn’t know what you were doing and only were reacting to the first male you had an attraction to, or any other reason it could spew. And he knew it was right. You needed time to sort this out, to figure yourself out, but he could be there to help piece you back together until you were whole and yourself, no one else’s to indoctrinate or enslave or command any longer.

He didn’t try to push his luck, not as he closed his door behind him, laid you down onto his bed, and stripped down to his boxers before laying down with you, holding you.

His wings wrapped around your body as he whispered sweet nothings, reassurances, and comforting words. His arms came to hold you in their strong embrace, the blanket warm and covering the both of you, the darkness of the room enveloping you. Behind that fierce, free witch with the sharpest of iron teeth and claws, was a traumatized female afraid to lose anyone else, too afraid to decide what path she wanted for herself without her past haunting her.

His forehead pressed against yours, his body almost like a furnace it was so warm, keeping your shaking one almost too warm. A reminder of the male you'd once held dear, but you wouldn't lose Cassian. Not like you'd already lost so many before. Your mate.

Just this once, you would savor this.

Or maybe, just maybe, just this eternity with your mate.

[whencyclopedia]

Hadrian's Wall

Hadrian's Wall (known in antiquity as the Vallum Hadriani or the Vallum Aelian) is a defensive frontier work in northern Britain which dates from 122 CE. The wall ran from coast to coast at a length of 73 statute miles (120 km). Though the wall is commonly thought to have been built to mark the boundary line between Britain and Scotland, this is not so; no one knows the actual motivation behind its construction but it does not delineate a boundary between two countries.

While the wall did simply mark the northern boundary of the Roman Empire in Britain at the time, theories regarding the purpose of such a massive building project range from limiting immigration, to controlling smuggling, to keeping the indigenous people at bay north of the wall. The wall continued in use until it was abandoned in the early 5th century CE.

Purpose

The military effectiveness of the wall has been questioned by many scholars over the years owing to its length and the positioning of the fortifications along the route. The argument goes that, had the wall actually been built as a defensive barrier, it would have been constructed differently and at another location. Regarding this, Professors Scarre and Fagan write,

Archaeologists and historians have long debated whether Hadrian's Wall was an effective military barrier…Whatever its military effectiveness, however, it was clearly a powerful symbol of Roman military might. The biographer of Hadrian remarks that the emperor built the wall to separate the Romans from the barbarians. In the same way, the Chinese emperors built the Great Wall to separate China from the barbarous steppe peoples to the north. In both cases, in addition to any military function, the physical barriers served in the eyes of their builders to reinforce the conceptual divide between civilized and noncivilized. They were part of the ideology of empire. (Ancient Civilizations, 313)

This seems to be the best explanation for the underlying motive behind the construction of Hadrian's Wall. The Romans had been dealing with uprisings in Britain since their conquest of the region. Although Rome's first contact with Britain was through Julius Caesar's expeditions there in 55/54 BCE, Rome did not begin any systematic conquest until the year 43 CE under the Emperor Claudius (r. 41-54 CE).

The revolt of Boudicca of the Iceni in 60/61 CE resulted in the massacre of many Roman citizens and the destruction of major cities (among them, Londinium, modern London) and, according to the historian Tacitus (56-117 CE), fully demonstrated the barbaric ways of the Britons to the Roman mind.

Boudicca's forces were defeated at The Battle of Watling Street by General Gaius Suetonius Paulinus in 61 CE. At the Battle of Mons Graupius, in the region which is now Scotland, the Roman General Gnaeus Julius Agricola won a decisive victory over the Caledonians under Calgacus in 83 CE. Both of these engagements, as well as the uprising in the north in 119 CE (suppressed by the Roman governor and general Quintus Pompeius Falco), substantiated that the Romans were up to the task of managing the indigenous people of Britain.

The suggestion that Hadrian's Wall, then, was built to hold back or somehow control the people of the north does not seem as likely as that it was constructed as a show of force. Hadrian's foreign policy was consistently “peace through strength” and the wall would have been an impressive illustration of that principle. In the same way that Julius Caesar built his famous bridge across the Rhine in 55 BCE simply to show that he, and therefore Rome, could go anywhere and do anything, Hadrian perhaps had his wall constructed for precisely the same purpose.

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