#the attitude seed bank

[puffbarvapes]

Exploring The History And Legacy Of Attitude Seedbank - Cannabis Shop Online

[buddiius]

Exploring The History And Legacy Of Attitude Seedbank - Cannabis Shop Online

[treasurypreserve]

Attitude Seed Bank- Analysis

With regards to developing an effective nursery or a flourishing indoor development activity, the nature of your seeds can have a significant effect. Demeanor Seed Bank has arisen as a main supplier of pot seeds, offering a different choice to take care of each and every groundskeeper’s necessities. In this exhaustive aid, we will dig into the set of experiences, contributions, and benefits of shopping at Attitude Seed Bank, assisting you with pursuing informed decisions for your developing undertakings.

THE HISTORICAL BACKDROP OF ATTITUDE SEED BANK

Established in the mid-2000s, Demeanor Seed Bank has laid down a good foundation for itself as a dependable hotspot for weed seeds. With a mission to give quality hereditary qualities and unrivaled client care, the bank immediately acquired a standing inside the pot local area. Settled in the UK, Mentality Seed Bank has extended its scope, serving clients around the world.

Throughout the long term, the bank has areas of strength for construction with famous reproducers and seed banks, guaranteeing a different and great determination of seeds. Their obligation to quality and straightforwardness has made them a confided-in name among both fledgling producers and prepared cultivators.

WHY PICK ATTITUDE SEED BANK

Broad Choice of Seeds

One of the champion elements of Mentality Seed Bank is its tremendous determination of seeds. Whether you are searching for normal, feminized, or auto-blooming seeds, Demeanor has something for everybody. The bank offers a scope of well-known strains, including:

Indica: Known for its loosening-up impacts, ideal for night use.

Sativa: Empowering strains that are ideally suited for daytime use.

Half breed: A decent mix of both indica and sativa hereditary qualities.

With a great many strains accessible, you can undoubtedly track down the ideal seeds to suit your particular necessities and inclinations.

Quality Affirmation

Demeanor Seed Bank focuses on quality, obtaining seeds from respectable reproducers known for their extraordinary hereditary qualities. Each strain is painstakingly chosen to guarantee high germination rates and strong plant advancement. The bank’s obligation to quality means you can believe that your seeds will deliver sound, useful plants.

Attentive and Secure Delivery

For some cultivators, security is a critical concern. Demeanor Seed Bank comprehends this and offers watchful delivery choices to safeguard your request’s privacy. All bundles are sent in plain boxes, guaranteeing that your buy stays private. The bank additionally gives the following data, so you can remain refreshed on your request’s status.

Client assistance

Disposition Seed Bank is highly esteemed and offers superb client service. Whether you have inquiries regarding seed determination, developing strategies, or delivery requests, their learned staff is prepared to help you. Clients can connect by means of email or through the live talk included on the site, making it simple to get the assistance you require.

Serious Estimating

Moderateness is key for some landscapers, and Demeanor Seed Bank offers cutthroat estimating on their seeds. With ordinary advancements and limits, you can track down quality seeds at costs that fit your spending plan. Moreover, the bank frequently gives exceptional proposals to mass buys, making it a practical choice for serious producers.

Exploring the Mentality Seed Bank Site

The Mentality Seed Bank site is planned considering ease of use. Guests can without much of a stretch explore through classes, channel by strain type, or quest for explicit items. Here are a few highlights that improve the web-based shopping experience:

Strain Data

Each seed burden on the Mentality site accompanies nitty gritty data, including hereditary qualities, blossoming time, yield potential, and THC/CBD levels. This data is significant for cultivators hoping to come to informed conclusions about their buys.

Client Audits

Client audits give experiences into the exhibition of explicit strains. Perusing criticism from individual cultivators can assist you with checking the reasonableness of a strain for your developing climate and individual inclinations.

Blog and Assets

Demeanor Seed Bank likewise includes a blog loaded up with significant assets on developing methods, strain surveys, and industry news. Whether you are a novice or an accomplished producer, the blog offers tips and experiences to improve your development abilities.

Well-known Strains Accessible at Demeanor Seed Bank

Mentality Seed Bank brags a wide reach of well-known strains that take special care of various inclinations and necessities. The following are a couple of essential choices:

Aurora Borealis

An exemplary indica strain known for its loosening-up impacts and sweet, hearty flavors. Aurora Borealis is #1 among producers for its versatility and high return potential, making it a brilliant decision for both indoor and open-air development.

White Widow

This half-and-half strain is well known for its fair impacts and strong THC levels. White Widow offers a euphoric high, making it ideal for social circumstances. Its strong development qualities make it a number one among cultivators.

Young Lady Scout Treats

A cherished strain that consolidates the smartest scenario imaginable, Young lady Scout Treats is known for its sweet, dessert-like flavor and adjusted impacts. This strain has acquired fame for its adaptability and high return potential.

Blue Dream

Blue Dream is a crossover strain that has acquired a faithful following because of its elevating impacts and scrumptious berry flavors. It’s a fantastic decision for daytime use and is inclined toward by numerous producers for its simplicity of development.

Tips for Effective Seed Germination

Whenever you’ve chosen your seeds from Demeanor Seed Bank, the subsequent stage is to guarantee effective germination. Here are a few hints to assist you with beginning:

Pick the Right Strategy

There are a few strategies for growing seeds, including the paper towel technique, direct establishing in soil and utilizing starter solid shapes. Every strategy enjoys its benefits, so pick one that lines up with your inclinations and arrangement.

Keep up with Ideal Circumstances

Seeds require explicit circumstances to develop effectively. Guarantee that you give warmth, mugginess, and murkiness. A steady temperature of around 70–80°F (21–27°C) is great for germination.

Screen Dampness Levels

Keep the developing medium reliably wet however not excessively soaked. Overwatering can prompt seed decay while underwatering can keep seeds from sprouting. Check consistently and change on a case-by-case basis.

Show restraint

Germination can take anywhere from a couple of days to about fourteen days, contingent upon the strain. Be patient and abstain from upsetting the seeds during this period.

Developing Your Plants

When your seeds have developed and your seedlings are laid out, now is the right time to zero in on developing sound plants. Here are a few fundamental tips for progress:

Give Sufficient Light

Marijuana plants require a lot of light for ideal development. Indoor cultivators should consider utilizing Drove-developed lights or focused energy release (Stored away) lights to give important lumens to a solid turn of events.

Supplement The board

Weed plants have explicit supplement needs at various development stages. Utilize quality manures and take care of timetables custom-fitted to your plants’ life cycles. Observing supplement levels is essential to forestall lack or overloading.

Control Climate

Keep up with ideal natural circumstances for your plants. This incorporates overseeing temperature, dampness, and wind current. Putting resources into fans, dehumidifiers, and temperature controls can establish a helpful climate for development.

Screen for Bugs and Sicknesses

Routinely take a look at your plants for indications of vermin or sicknesses. Early location and intercession are vital to forestalling pervasions. Consider utilizing natural bug control techniques to keep up with plant well-being.

CONCLUSION

Demeanor Seed Bank stands apart as a main supplier of weed seeds, offering broad determination, quality confirmation, and brilliant client care. With a pledge to assist producers with succeeding, Demeanor Seed Bank is an important asset for both fledgling and experienced cultivators. By picking the right seeds and following prescribed procedures for germination and development, you can partake in a productive developing encounter.

Whether you’re hoping to develop exemplary strains or investigate new hereditary qualities, Mentality Seed Bank has the seeds you really want to make your cultivating dreams a reality. Investigate their contributions today and venture out toward a flourishing nursery.

[campgender]

My aunt, like my mama, understood everything, expected nothing, and watched her own life like a terrible fable from a Sunday-morning sermon. It was the perspective that all those women shared, the view that I could not, for my life, accept. I believed, I believed with all my soul that death was behind it, that death was the seed and the fruit of that numbed and numbing attitude.

More than anything else, it was my anger that had driven me away from them, driven them away from me—my unpredictable, automatic anger. Their anger, their hatred, always seemed shielded, banked and secret, and because of that—shameful. My uncles were sudden, violent, and daunting. My aunts wore you down without ever seeming to fight at all. It was my anger that my aunts thought queer, my wild raging temper they respected in a boy and discouraged in a girl. That I slept with girls was curious, but not dangerous. That I slept with a knife under my pillow and refused to step aside for my uncles was more than queer. It was crazy.

from “Don’t Tell Me You Don’t Know” by Dorothy Allison, in Trash (1988)

[elysianstars]

Persona 5 Playthrough Commentary, Part Four!

Makoto has joined the team! I'm glad to have another female party member. I love her new attitude, and I love that two of the first things she did as a Phantom Thief were to smash enemies up with a motorcycle and go out for crepes with Ann.

The Bank Palace is my least favourite dungeon so far, design wise. The security cameras do not spark joy. It did take less time to complete than the others though.

Oh, we're casually abandoning Ryuji with the guys who think he'd make a great drag queen, I guess? Just wandering off and leaving that one in the hands of fate.

Can someone please suggest we change the headteacher's heart already, dude is clearly horrible (and part of a greater chain of horrible that I hope we get to break eventually).

No, I don't want to charm girls. No, I wasn't hitting on that student. No, I don't care about the weird maid advert. No, I don't want to talk about dating during Persona negotiations. Help, it feels like I'm really back at school again.

Also I'm a nerd who enjoys the crossword puzzles. And I like how exams are related to the questions you've been asked throughout the term. Actually learning things here (which does not make me feel like I'm back at school again).

Yusuke's painting of Mementos is rad, I would hang that on my wall.

Just normal rival things: you invite him to a cafe to eat cake together, and to disguise you from bothersome fans, he messes up your hair and puts his glasses on your face. You...just go along with this? Totally normal behaviour.

Medjed sound like a bunch of incels from Reddit, who want to start a dick measuring competition with the Phantom Thieves.

Starting a new drinking game, where every time a male character acts stupid around Ann, I take a shot.

Wait, hang on, Sojiro has a secret daughter hiding in his house? Since when? I guess if he's already a father, it makes more sense he would've agreed to look after another teenager? Did not see that one coming though.

Driving across the desert to reach the latest Palace, and I am sighing and lining up the shots.

Pyramid design is good. Story progression swinging wildly from 'oh shit, Futaba had an abusive mother who wished she didn't exist' to 'oh shit, Futaba's loving mother was murdered by guys in black suits who probably stole her research, and then covered it up by traumatising her kid even more'. Like, are we sure it was suicide? Could she have been the first example of someone forced into a psychotic breakdown, and that's why she jumped in front of the car? Because someone else wanted to explore the cognitive psience stuff she'd discovered? And maybe that's related to the black mask invader who was in other Palaces? (do not answer these questions please, I don't want any spoilers)

I'm confused though, because it seemed like Futaba's sin would be sloth because she's a shut-in, but collecting the seeds created the Crystal of Wrath. Anyway now she just needs to wake up again and deal with the online manbabies.

[anarchy-n-glitter]

Blood of the Dragon

Another long chapter just a heads up. I don't think I have any warnings this time, maybe just for Viseryon's previous behavior being mentioned.

Chapter Summary: A mystery begins to unfold in Edoras as the city erupts into chaos. What better time is there to sew the seeds of doubt into the king's mind and embed yourself within the king's court?

(Chapter 1 HERE, Chapter 2 HERE)

(Song inspo: Me and The Devil - Soap&Skin, The Green Dress - HOTD soundtrack)

CHAPTER 3:

Lady Aelora Dressed in Red

It was dawn. The sky was clear and painted with different shades of orange and lavender as the sun rose slowly over the snowy peaks of the mountains on the horizon. The air was as frigid as the day before, the winds whipping harshly for so early in the morning. In the distance, just beyond the grand Starkhorn, grey clouds gathered and grew darker. A storm was coming, and it was likely to bring the first snow of the season. 

Rohan had not seen a snowy winter since the Long Winter, and with each morning that grew colder and colder, and as the clouds grew darker and darker, the people of Rohan worked harder to prepare. 

If the next cold, unforgiving winter was not to come that year it certainly would come the next, bearing its ugly teeth through icicles that clung to the sodden rooftops and frostbite that killed their livestock, young, and the sickly. 

Hilda stifled a yawn, pressing the back of her hand hard against her mouth to hide the slight way it opened as she was given her morning assignment. The lead housemaid, an older woman named Godiva, handed Hilda clean linen and fresh water for the Lord Draecyr. The look of disappointment in the older woman’s wrinkled eyes did not go unnoticed by Hilda. The younger woman had been late; her dress was wrinkled and her strawberry blonde hair was still tousled from when she woke up, and the wind certainly didn’t help straighten out her appearance. It seemed as if Hilda hadn’t gotten much rest the night before, but in truth she overslept. 

The young woman was surprised when the dawn came so quickly, for it never felt like she fell asleep at all. She slept so soundly through the night, yet that morning she hardly felt rested. She stifled another yawn.

Godiva huffed and ran her hands along Hilda’s skirt, aggressively trying to straighten out the wrinkles before sending the younger maid to Lord Viseryon’s room. “You better hope he isn’t awake.” The lead housemaid grumbled. “Don’t let him see you like this.” 

The older woman’s instructions and warning sent shivers down her back. Hilda was well aware of Lord Viseryon’s awful temper; she'd watched him snap at her fellow maids on multiple occasions, raising a hand to them even if he never did strike them. He would apologize immediately, of course, running a hand across his face and flashing his large, grey eyes. He would smile bashfully as if he hadn’t been acting like a toddler moments before. 

Most of the women feared him, the men hated him and avoided him, and most recognized what a nuisance he truly was. Hilda noticed how people would rather stand beside Wormtongue than be near the Lord Draecyr and it was all due to his sour attitude. I would much rather be made uncomfortable by Wormtongue’s quiet, creeping presence than be snapped at and nearly hit by Lord Viseryon, thought Hilda. She had noticed even his own creation thought the same. Lady Aelora had been spotted alone with Wormtongue quite a few times, and Hilda heard from a few of the wash maidens that they saw the two in a loving embrace. 

She had been walking along the banks of Snowbourn, carrying a basket full of cloth that she had washed thoroughly. Hilda had been on laundry duty that day, as much as she hated the job, and she was on her way to report back to Godiva when the conversation of two other wash women caught her attention.

The wash women giggled at the scandalousness of it all, making jokes about the advisor and his new dragon blooded mistress as they washed their clothes and linen in the river. 

“I can’t believe she lets him get that close to her!” One exclaimed in a hushed tone. “He looks like he smells of fish.” 

“I saw him following her around when she first got here, then, last night, I saw him enter her chambers! He’s so creepy… why she would ever entertain his presence I have no idea.” The other answered before going back to scrubbing the garment in her hand. 

“She is a dragon blood, maybe he’s the first man to give her attention. He seems desperate enough.” The other maiden gasped and lightly slapped her friend’s shoulder. 

“You say that like Lady Aelora is ugly.” 

“Well…” The first maid trailed off, prompting the other to roll her eyes. 

“It’s alright to say you’re jealous because no man in Rohan would look at you the way he does her.” Hilda arched a brow at that. Certainly they hadn’t been close enough to see how they looked at each other. She left the girls alone, their shrill laughter fading as she rushed to find Godiva in Meduseld… and then she saw them.

Just behind the hall, partially obscured by the grand walls of Meduseld, she saw Lady Aelora and Wormtongue. Indeed, they were kissing, and from the looks of it the lady didn’t seem to mind where the grotesque advisor’s hands wandered. Hilda let out a gasp and dropped her basket before hurrying behind a rocky formation, laying flat against the ground so as to not be seen by the lovers. She could hardly believe what she was seeing. The maid let out another, quieter gasp, for her eyes did not deceive her. 

When the duo pulled away she saw how tenderly Wormtongue caressed the lady’s cheek. She saw the bright smile that grazed Lady Aelora’s face. She was almost taken by the breathtaking beauty that Aelora was, with her silver hair and otherworldly smile. The dragon blood was nearly elf-like in grace and looks. She wondered, just like the maids before, why Aelora would entertain Wormtongue’s presence like she had been. Certainly she could have anyone she wanted. For a moment, Hilda could have been fooled into thinking the two had been in love the whole time and had known each other for years. Wormtongue led Aelora slightly further behind Meduseld and sat in the grass, his form nearly disappearing completely in the sea of green. She heard Lady Aelora let out a small giggle as she lifted her skirt and joined him in the grass, straddling his hips. 

Hilda determined she’d seen enough, hoping to get out of there before seeing parts of either party she’d rather not, and since she felt like a dirty voyeur as it was. The noises Lady Aelora made were embarrassing enough to have to listen to. The maid hopped to her feet, collecting the now soiled laundry back into the basket before finding the established path to Meduseld. Her feet found the stone steps and it felt like she’d found sanctuary. 

She wondered what she’d do with this newfound information. Would it be wise of her to forget what she saw, or would she engage in gossip alongside her fellow maids? Hilda was shocked by how little discretion they had about this dirty little secret. She would have thought the king’s advisor would be more careful to not expose a potential affair, and with a dragon blood nonetheless. 

Hilda had rushed inside the Great Hall that day, shutting the doors as quickly as possible. She let out a small squeak and pressed her back onto the heavy, wooden doors, as if she were hiding the advisor’s secret herself. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the darker atmosphere of the hall, at the moment she was only able to see silhouettes of people in the distance. When her eyes did adjust she noticed just how crowded it was. A number of noble women were lounging about the space, some were seated at tables, while some laid across the steps by the throne. They were all accompanied by handmaidens, some of which the maid recognized. Hilda’s eye was caught by a woman wearing lavender whose golden hair was being braided by the maiden Cwenhilde.

This woman, with fair skin and dark eyes, was Lady Beolyn. Her father, Beonræd, had served the court of Edoras for decades before his service was determined to be no longer needed. Her family was well respected and still lived in the lap of luxury. Beolyn was seated on the steps closest to the center of the room. The little sunlight that filtered through the roof fell upon her, casting a cool white light on her, as if even the heavens above favored her. Her focus was taken by the larger than life man before her. 

He was seated on top of a table in the middle of the hall, practically lounging on it with one foot on the wooden top with the other resting on the bench below. Surrounded by women, he strummed at his lute and sang softly and sweetly a ballad about love and longing. His sapphire eyes were glued to the lady in lavender, and with how passionately he sang it could be assumed he was singing about Beolyn. The small smile on his face told Hilda it would be hard to get him alone. 

The man, Kenric, was a musician who traveled with other musicians across Middle Earth, performing in different courts and cities for the noble men and women. Kenric especially loved performing for the women. He was a very flirtatious man whose only weakness is a pretty face, and to him it was clear Beolyn was the prettiest of all. He enjoyed having the freedom of moving from place to place, yet he seemed to love lingering in Rohan, and Hilda knew he lingered for Lady Beolyn. His carefree, womanizing nature could never hide how he looked at the Lilac Lady of Edoras. 

The way Kenric looked at Beolyn hurt.

“Oh Hilda, you’re all dirty!” Cwenhilde exclaimed from behind Beolyn, drawing everyone’s attention to the maid. Cwenhilde was right, Hilda was truly a mess. Mud clung to the muted green of her skirt and corset and soiled the sleeves of her turquoise blouse. Every time she shifted she could feel the dirt grind uncomfortably against her skin, and she felt the way it clung to her cheek. The maid smiled sheepishly and tucked a strand of reddish blonde hair behind her ear. She would not spill the advisor’s secrets in front of - what used to be - half of the king’s court. 

“I fell outside.” She lied, much to the amusement of some of the ladies there. Kenric’s sky colored gaze fell upon the basket of dark colored linen in Hilda’s grasp. He could see splotches of mud and clumps of grass clinging to the drenched heap. Drops of water leaked through the straw and dripped onto the stone floor. There was a puddle. 

“Looks like Wormtongue will be without bedding tonight.” Kenric smirked. The women all giggled amongst themselves at his observation. His eyes met hers and she felt her throat tighten. “Godiva might actually kill you for this one after she rushes you back out to fix that. Or she’ll give you a worse assignment than this one was as punishment.” Washing Wormtongue’s sheets was supposed to be a punishment for tripping and breaking an entire table’s worth of dishware the day before. She couldn’t possibly imagine what worse fate Godiva would sentence her to for this blunder. Hilda grimaced at the thought.

“I am not reporting to Godiva like this.” Hilda stated firmly before waltzing up to Kenric. The women around them began to whisper amongst themselves, most likely making fun of Hilda for her appearance. Beolyn still stared at the musician. “I was actually coming here to ask you to walk me home so I can change.” The blond man arched his brow. 

“I think you’d be perfectly safe walking home in broad daylight, Hilda.” Kenric began before gesturing grandly to the women who surrounded him. “And as you can see, I am still entertaining an audience.” He winked at Beolyn which prompted a cacophony of giggles from the other ladies and handmaidens. 

Hilda found it hard to watch as red dusted along Beolyn’s porcelain cheeks. The display was almost sickening. 

“Remember that guard I told you about?” Kenric frowned. 

“The one who kept petitioning your father to let him marry you? The one who trapped you in awkward conversations by that very door? That guard?” Kenric asked, stifling an uncomfortable laugh. He did, however, remember this guard as being the reason Hilda asked him to accompany her home, hoping the sight of another man would ward him off. Kenric had been under the impression it worked. 

“Yes, that one.” Hilda answered in an impatient tone. Kenric stood in an instant, hopping off of the table’s bench seat with his lute firmly grasped in his right hand. He turned back to the women with a small bow. 

“Excuse me, ladies, I’m afraid a man must go teach a boy a lesson.” Hilda rolled her eyes as the women giggled at the theatrics. 

Kenric rushed to Hilda’s side, opening the doors of the hall for her before slipping outside behind her. He’d almost forgotten the chill that lingered in the air and he shivered. The sun’s powerful rays still fought to break through the dull blanket of clouds in the sky, and the brightness of the outdoors made Kenric squint. It certainly didn’t help that Meduseld’s great hall was so much darker during the day and empty than it was outside. He had spent all day performing for and chatting with the ladies of the court, something he knew he would never tire of. 

He linked arms with Hilda just as he had many times before and began to walk down the steps of Meduseld, but she refused to budge.

“Hilda?” There was a sudden look of mischief in her eye. “Oh Hilda, what are you up to?” Kenric sighed as his grip loosened on her arm. 

“I saw Wormtongue and the dragon blood behind Meduseld.” She said finally, amusement present in her voice. Kenric’s eyes widened. 

“What?” Kenric had talked to the dragon blooded Lady a few days prior, nearly swayed by her beauty. She seemed quiet and polite, and she laughed at his usual antics. He considered writing a song about her to sing amongst the other courts, for Kenric didn’t consider Lady Aelora to be monstrous like many did about dragon bloods, in fact, he didn’t consider dragon bloods monstrous at all. He used to be fascinated by the creatures, despite the horrific tales his mother weaved about them as he drifted off to sleep as a child.

He had witnessed Wormtongue lurking in Lady Aelora’s shadow, constantly watching her throughout the week and even lurking beside Meduseld when he had stopped to speak to Aelora. It was he who pointed out to her that Wormtongue had been watching her. He did think it odd that she simply laughed. She didn’t react how the other women would - she didn’t show she was alarmed or disgusted. Instead she simply thanked him and went back to writing in her journal. He thought that was odd, but he never expected her to seek out Wormtongue herself. 

“It’s true! They had been standing in the fields in an embrace, kissing!” Hilda exclaimed. She loved gossiping with Kenric, it was something they did rather often, but nothing had ever been as juicy and scandalous as this.

“You lie!” He gasped with a large smile on his face. 

“That’s why I’m covered in dirt! I had to hide behind that ledge over there.” She gestured as much as she could with Kenric still holding her other arm. The ledge was a bit further from the path they stood on, nearly hidden in the grass but gave a perfect view of the meadow behind Meduseld. The blond man smirked. “Do you think they’re still there?” He asked. Hilda slapped his chest lightly.

“I am not interested in finding out.” She giggled. “Besides, the noises I heard coming from Lady Aelora were enough to send me away, I’d rather not learn what Wormtongue sounds like when he’s being pleasured.” 

“I beg your pardon?” A regal voice sounded from behind the two causing them to jump. Lord Viseryon stood behind them, a look of bewilderment upon his face and madness present in his eyes. Hilda felt her stomach drop at the sight of him, recounting the many horror stories her fellow maids had told about him over his short time in Edoras. He seemed to be masking his anger about their choice of topic, and she thought of the maids he physically threatened. 

“Lord Viseryon!” Hilda bowed, elbowing her ditzy companion to do the same. Kenric halfheartedly bowed, rolling his eyes when his head was down. “To what do we owe the pleasure? It’s not often we’re graced by the presence-”

“Quit your pathetic groveling, what was it you were just talking about?” Hilda felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of her neck despite the chilling weather. Viseryon’s scolding silver gaze was focused solely on her, and she feared her gossiping had awoken some beast that lay within the lord. 

“It was nothing-”

“It was not nothing, you spoke of Aelora and the king’s advisor, a grave accusation at that. What was it you said?” The lord demanded. Hilda was frozen with fear, unsure of whether it was safe to report to him what she saw. She glanced at Kenric from the corner of her eye. The blond man was not afraid of the lord, he’d bore witness to Viseryon’s fits quite a few times and realized the man before him was all bark and no bite. He even wondered why Lord Viseryon cared who Lady Aelora was seeing in the first place, his concern didn’t seem to come from a place of fatherly caring. 

Kenric would understand if Lord Viseryon saw Aelora as his child and was more concerned with finding a suitor for her, thus caring about her purity, but the look on Viseryon’s face was one of jealousy and possessiveness. The musician, as privy as he was to emotion, figured Viseryon viewed Aelora as property - his property to use in whatever way he saw fit. Kenric wanted to spit at the nobleman’s feet. 

“We saw Lady Aelora and Wormtongue making love in the field just now behind Meduseld. We think they saw us and stopped but we aren’t sure.” Kenric stated, embellishing the original story in order to get a rise out of Viseryon. The lord’s face grew red out of embarrassment and anger. “They’re there now?” The silver lord asked. Kenric shrugged.

“I’d assume they’ve made their way indoors by now. Lady Aelora certainly saw us for she gasped quite loudly-” The lord turned on his heel and marched back indoors, already calling for Aelora in his usual shrill, annoying way. Hilda glanced at her friend and bit back the urge to shout at him. 

“Well, that took care of that.” Kenric stated nonchalantly as if he didn’t start a nasty rumor about the king’s advisor. It was rooted in truth, that much she knew, but to say they were openly making love…

“He seemed furious.” The maid muttered. She sounded guilty. Kenric shrugged. 

“It’s no longer our problem.” The musician sighed as he walked down the stone steps. He looked back at her. “Well? Don’t you have to get changed?” 

That had been a day ago, and now Hilda stood before the ornate door to the room Lord Viseryon had been staying in for the last five days. She always thought the intricate carvings on the doors of Meduseld were breathtaking, even if she knew they were reserved for the noble men and women who stayed there. That number had dwindled in recent years to just the immediate family of Théoden king and Wormtongue. The Lord and Lady Draecyr were a welcome addition at first, seemingly livening up the halls with the excitement of new people walking around, but that feeling quickly soured with Lord Viseryon’s behavior. 

Her legs and arms were shaking. She was still quite nervous to be face to face with Viseryon after what happened the day before. She wondered if he would still be mad at her, especially after Kenric decided to spin what she had seen into his own lie to make the lord angrier. If Lady Aelora denied Lord Viseryon’s accusation, which she most likely would, would he lash out at her today? Would Hilda be the first maid he’d actually hit? 

The halls were eerily quiet that morning. Hilda knew it was still very early but she was used to guards and other remaining members of the king’s court wandering about, preparing for their days. Usually on the fifth day of the week the maid would even see the king’s nephew, Éomer, up bright and early. She had seen absolutely no one on her journey to Lord Viseryon’s quarters aside from Godiva. She could feel something was terribly wrong, and that feeling chilled her to the bone. 

Her hand hesitated as she raised it to knock on the door. 

She knocked three times and waited. 

There was not so much as the rustling of sheets or the familiar whiny groan to tell her there was someone inside. Hilda let out a sigh of relief, hoping this meant Lord Viseryon woke up early that day to harass some other poor soul and she could do her job without worry. Yet, when she opened the door and was met by the darkness of his room, she could see his bed was still made. The curtain was still down over his window, and the door to his bathroom was slightly ajar. Hilda rushed inside and drew the curtain, letting the white light of the outdoors brighten the room enough for her to see. It let in the chill. The plush furs were still on the end of his bed and the jade green blankets were still tucked tightly under the mattress. She placed the new pitcher of water on his nightstand and collected the old one, only to realize it was still heavy with water from the night before. 

Hilda placed the new sheets and the old pitcher of water down on the desk in the corner of the room and looked around, still not finding a single thing wrong with the room. The fresh candles that were brought the day before had not been lit and still were in their pristine condition. It was as if Lord Viseryon never stayed there in the first place, as if he never even stepped foot in the room. The only sign of life was a maroon tunic draped over the back of the lounging chair in the corner by his bed.

 The maid chewed on her bottom lip anxiously. Was she to change the sheets now, or just leave them for the lord if he felt the need to change them. It was clear he hadn’t touched the bed all night. That unnerved feeling returned and crept up her spine. Without a second thought, she collected the clean bedding and left the room in a hurry, holding the linen close to her chest as she slammed the door. 

She rushed down the hall, lost in her thoughts as she silently hoped Lord Viseryon decided to leave with his companion in the middle of the night. Perhaps he felt the need to keep her away from Wormtongue, perhaps he-

Her train of thought was interrupted as she ran into someone and fell to the floor. The bedding fell into her lap and unfolded slightly. Hilda glanced up to see the cold, dark gaze of Godiva as she stood over her with her arms crossed over her chest. She seemed angry.

“What has been taking you so long, Hilda? We have other things to do and you can’t just be wandering about and…” She trailed off at the sight of the white sheets in the younger maid’s lap. “Did you change Lord Viseryon’s sheets?” She asked, her voice growing angrier and more bewildered by the moment. Hilda quickly shook her head.

“His bed was still made when I went into his room, it was like he was never even there! The water was still full, too, I swear it!” The older woman cocked a brow, contemplating the younger maid’s words before offering a hand to help her up. Hilda gathered the unfolded sheets in her arms and took Godiva’s help. 

“Perhaps he spent the night elsewhere? Well, what he doesn’t know won’t kill him, we’ll leave the blankets be. For now, use those sheets for Lady Aelora’s bed. She’s on the other side of Meduseld.” Godiva commanded, and Hilda abided. 

The walk to Lady Aelora’s room was much less stressful. Along the way she even saw a few people, obviously having just roused from their slumber, getting ready for their days. Guards who stood tightening their armor and ladies of the court yawned as they awaited their handmaidens with hair still down and unbrushed. They all looked just as exhausted as she did that morning, sleep still present in their glassy eyes. 

When Hilda arrived at Lady Aelora’s door she was still quite nervous. Kenric said she was a nice woman when he spoke to her alone, but Hilda still feared she would be gutted by the woman. Kenric had spoken to her in an open area where anyone could stumble upon them, and while he was not bothered by the tales told of dragon bloods, Hilda most certainly was. Her shaking hand knocked on the door. 

Like before, there was no answer nor was there any stirring. With more people rushing around the hall and beginning their days she assumed Lady Aelora had risen early… or that her earlier theory was correct and Lord Viseryon had forced them to leave. She felt slightly more at ease with the fact that the dragon blood was not in her room and she opened the door confidently.

That confidence left her body in one shrill shriek that tore through the air and alerted everyone around her. Her eyes welled up with hot tears and her head became light. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, her arms felt heavy. She dropped the linen to the ground and dropped to her knees, fighting the urge to throw up at the scent of copper in the cold air. 

✵✵✵✵✵

When she was sure Gríma had fallen asleep Aelora slipped out of his arms, an action she was entirely too familiar with. Under the dim light of the nearly dead candles, Aelora collected her discarded clothes, managing to only find her dress in the dark. She slipped her nightgown back over her head before tiptoeing over to the bed. 

Her lover, so deep in sleep, looked peaceful. His bare brow that was usually furrowed in thought was relaxed, and the frown lines around his mouth were non-existent. She felt a pang of guilt as she looked upon his sleeping face, knowing she would have to leave. She feared him waking in the night to find his bed empty and most of all she feared him assuming betrayal. With everything she told him she wouldn’t blame him for assuming the worst when she disappeared without a trace in the middle of the night. 

Aelora, no matter what happened in the future, would always be grateful for Gríma. Despite his oddities, he managed to show her that her life didn’t have to be lonely. Not everyone would look at her with suspicion and fear. She was not a monster… 

But she is a dragon. And a dragon is not a slave.

Her knife gleamed in the flickering soft light of the candle, almost winking at her, egging her on. Even it seemed to know what she had to do, and it thirsted for blood. Viseryon’s blood. The blood of the last true Draecyr. 

Looking around the room she searched for something that could aid her in getting away with her crime. His room was quite dark, leaving her to feel around for any item that might hold magical properties. She tried to mind the clothes left on the floor and the various furniture that might block her path, trying her hardest to stay quiet so as not to wake Gríma. 

She stumbled her way through a door in the farthest corner of the room, and within this new area there was a window. Cool, blue light from the large moon filtered in and cast long shadows over the walls and floor. The floor was stone and cold and had a small step down from where the wood of the main room stopped. The room was mostly empty aside from a large tub toward the back and a wooden stand that stood before her against the wall. Atop the wooden stand was a single ivory comb that seemed to be made from the bone of some sort of animal, and beside it was a handheld mirror with a silver-colored metal handle and backing. Just above the stand was a couple of shelves with various bottles of liquid lining their surfaces. She could see different flowers stuffed into the bottles, and immediately she recognized them as perfumes. 

She collected the mirror and perused the selection of perfumes Gríma collected, carefully searching for a particular flower and hoping he had it lying around. Even in the moonlight, the tall stalk of the violet flower stood out to her, practically calling out to her. She took the glass bottle with the Lavender stuffed inside and pulled the cork out from the narrow opening. She waltzed to the tub and sat on its rim, placing the mirror in her lap, and she poured the liquid out into the chilly water that sat inside its basin. It was clear Gríma had been planning on bathing before their escapade.

 She had no way of knowing how long the plant had been soaking in the water other than the way the sweet aroma filled the air so suddenly, and immediately she made a mental note to buy Gríma a replacement for the fragrance. 

Carefully, she pinched at the narrow stem of the plant with her nails and pulled it from the bottle, eyeing its drowned form with scrutiny. No, that wouldn’t do.

She held the flower away from her face at arms length and took a deep breath. She felt the burning sensation rise in her chest and throat as she blew gently. A warm amber and copper glow rose beneath her skin, trailing up the length of her chest and neck before brilliant flames erupted from behind her lips. The heat from her fire rid the flower of any excess wetness and dried it to the bone. The formerly violet petals turned an ashen purple and curled upwards unto themselves. They became brittle and nearly baked. 

With the flower now dry, Aelora stood and brought it to the window. She placed the mirror face down on the windowsill and crumbled the lavender in her hand. She spoke firmly in a hushed tone: “I invoke the power to plunge the kingdom of Edoras into a deep slumber. Let them not wake til the first light reaches above the snowy peak of Starkhorn. Let my creator be exempt, and let my Gríma be easily awoken at the sound of me calling his name when the time comes.” 

And with that, she blew the broken, dry petals out of the window and into the wind. As the breeze carried the lavender out into the village, Aelora held the mirror up to the moon, and in an instant the sky became a bright turquoise color as the moon glowed violet. She watched as the aqua color melted into a mist that cascaded down onto the sleeping kingdom, and it remained heavy upon the buildings like a fog upon the water. It glided into the window and filled both the room she was standing in and the room where Gríma slept soundly. He would remain that way for a while. 

The candle’s flame was finally extinguished, smothered by the fog. 

There was not a sound in the world that could wake the sleeping kingdom of Edoras without Aelora’s say so, and that was exactly how she wanted it. With everyone now under her spell, she grabbed the curved hilt of her knife from the desk and exited Gríma’s room. 

Her door was a mere few feet away, yet it felt like a lifetime getting to it. Each footstep felt heavy and prolonged, like she had never walked before in her life. The closer she got to the oak door the less she felt like herself. Her body felt numb and she found it hard to think about anything at all - her mind was blank. Her hand came to rest against the wooden door as she stood still for a moment, taking deep breaths as she fought off tears. She had made it. 

She hated Viseryon with every fiber of her being, yet part of her still loved him like a daughter would a father. He was spoiled, and vain, and his feelings for her grew inappropriate over time, but that did not change the fact that he was all she had her entire life. 

He raised her. He taught her how to speak and how to read and write. He fed her and bought her the nicest of clothes, even when they were banished to the outskirts of Erech. She admired him at one point in her life, like all dragon bloods did their creators, and she couldn’t help but mourn the bond they used to have, even if he only created her to entrap Aemma. 

She was afraid more than anything. She hoped that having Gríma suggest she murder Viseryon was enough for her to get away with it. In the history of Arda, there has never been a dragon blood who killed their creator, it was thought to be inherently against their nature. She could imagine the uproar now, the frightful looks, the suspicion, the accusations. If she could kill her creator, what's stopping her from killing anyone else? What’s stopping her from killing the king?

It mattered not what her creator might have been doing to her, or what he was planning. She hoped the bruises on her neck that took the shape of his hands were enough for them to understand, even though she knew deep down they would never understand. Anger began to chip away at the sadness, slowly bubbling beneath her skin and burning in her gut. She would make them understand. 

With one last shaky breath, she opened the door to her room. 

It was dark inside, but after a moment she was able to see the silhouette of her sleeping creator. She quietly slipped through the door, closing it as gently as she could, before making her way to the covered window on the wall farthest from the door. She’d kept the window covered all night, unable to look out at Edoras without thinking of what happened earlier in the day and how she may never see its green beauty again. It saddened her, but she needed the light now.

She wanted to see the fear in Viseryon’s eyes, the very fear she had every night when he was around. The very fear she experienced when he wrapped his rancid hands around her throat that afternoon. 

She drew up the curtain, the violet light from the moon rushed in almost instantly, despite it residing on the opposite side of the sky from where her room was. The spell made it bright. 

She watched her creator silently, observing the steady rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took. Rising and falling that would cease soon enough.

Up and down.

 Up and down. 

Viseryon’s face scrunched at the new presence of light, and he stirred restlessly before silently waking, blinking the sleep from his eyes as a look of confusion came over his fair features. Aelora stood over him, a blank look in her eye and her hands behind her back. He stretched his arms out, reaching toward her side of the bed when he suddenly realized that her side of the bed was cold. She had been gone for a while. “Aelora? Where did you run off to?” Was all he could choke out. Sleep was still heavy in his voice. The question was not accusatory, or at least, not yet. There was a genuine curiosity in his tone, like how one would speak to a pet after they had been missing all day. Her stomach turned uneasily. 

Aelora walked to her side of the bed and knelt on the mattress, allowing her to still tower over her creator. It was almost a display of dominance. She hoped he wouldn’t recognize the violet moon and realize that they were the only ones awake in the kingdom - she hoped he was too tired to put the pieces together. She smiled bitterly at him as she thought of answers to his question.

His silver eyes shone brightly in the moonlight, as if the supernatural occurrence served to emphasize the otherworldly nature of their people. She tucked her knife further into her sleeve and brought her other hand to his cheek. Gently, she caressed his face, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes, yet the look on her face was that of a predator. She wondered if he knew how it felt now, to be leered at by something so dangerous.

“Where was I?” She repeated the question, and her creator nodded. She let out an airy laugh. Her heartbeat sped up, for she knew if she spoke she would have to kill him quicker. She licked her lips to combat the dryness that overcame them. Her hand tightened around the knife. “I was in councilman Gríma’s bed. I let him fuck me.” She repeated the very words Viseryon used against her before, though this time there was truth in them. She let the advisor fuck her and she enjoyed it.

There was sadism in the dragon blood’s smile as she watched recognition flash over Viseryon’s face, then anger, and then sadness. She wasn’t expecting sadness. He choked back a sob, which only served to confuse Aelora further. 

“Oh, Aelora.” He cried. She was not moved, in fact, she was repulsed by his pathetic whining. For someone she thought so highly of as a child, she saw now that he was nothing but a pitiful worm. Instead, she readied her knife, holding it over her head as she watched the fear overcome his sorrow. She was not his, she would never be his. Aelora belonged to herself and no one else. Not Viseryon, not Gríma… her. She would make it known to Viseryon that he did not own her, and in that moment, he certainly understood her message. 

His eyes were glued to the knife which shimmered a faint violet in the moonlight. He wondered if it was enchanted, he wondered what she would do to him. He looked back at her and could not recognize the beast in front of him, even if it was a beast he created. His dry, cracked lips opened and a gasp left them.

 “Aelora, please.” He begged quietly, and she smiled. That was why she wanted him to be awake, she wanted to hear his pitiful cries and pleas. Her eyes were still focused on him, though it felt as if they were looking through him. He attempted to sit up but she grabbed him by his tunic, the same, dirtied white tunic he’d worn to bed for years. She pushed him back into the mattress and took the opportunity to straddle his hips, making sure he would go nowhere. 

“I have asked and begged, just as you are now, for years and my pleas have fallen upon your deaf ears, Viseryon.” Aelora seethed. Her grip tightened around the knife’s handle to hide the way her hand shook. 

Somehow, somewhere deep within the sneering woman he saw before him, he still managed to see the little girl he raised. 

Aelora plunged the knife into his throat. 

✵✵✵✵✵

A crowd gathered around Hilda, murmuring amongst themselves as they attempted to get a look into the room. The poor maid was lying on the floor unconscious, an arm over her forehead and the linen laid across her body. Most paid her no mind, finding the spectacle of the bloody body within Aelora’s room more interesting than the maid who discovered it. A guard pushed passed followed by two more, all who looked as if they had just been awoken by the commotion. They each let out a gasp and covered their mouth and nose at the scene before them. 

Blood painted the wall just behind the bed near the headboard and stained the white sheets and pillows. Lord Viseryon’s cold, pale hand hung off of the side of the bed, where crimson dripped down the length of his fingers onto the cold, stone floor. His white tunic was darkened and made damp by his blood. His head laid beside his body, pointed up at the ceiling with its mouth slightly agape. His hair was tangled and frizzy, making it hard to see the way his haunting silver eyes were still wide with fear, gazing out into the unknown. The flesh of his neck was jagged and a deep red at the ends, with untrained cuts that made it clear the person who did this beheaded him with a knife instead of something like a sword or ax, meaning this was not the work of a true executioner or a careful assassin. This had gone unplanned. 

“Someone get Lord Éomer!” The first guard shouted, feeling his stomach turn uneasily at the sight of the brutalized lord. He feared he would vomit.

The guard to his left took off down the hall to look for the king’s nephew, while the other shifted uneasily. They knew this would be a matter for the king after they found the culprit. Of course, they all knew he would not make a decision without Wormtongue’s say, and they all would wonder if he was the one behind this. 

Kenric saw the crowd gathered at Lady Aelora’s door and quickly picked up his pace to join them. They all seemed rather upset, with some letting out quiet sobs and others whispering to the people around them. He immediately felt uneasy as he pushed through, and as he saw the traumatizing body of Viseryon he forced himself to look away, feeling his heart jump at the sight. He had never seen so much blood in his life. He was not one for violence. 

Upon turning around, he kept his eyes to the ground and saw Hilda still lying there and his heart sank. Panic flooded the musician’s mind as he dropped to his knees. In a frenzy, he felt her forehead and listened carefully to make sure his friend was still breathing. 

Without a second thought, Kenric scooped Hilda up into his arms and demanded everyone get out of his way. He would take her someplace to safely rest and find a healer. He hoped whoever killed Viseryon didn’t harm Hilda. He saw no blood or wounds upon her, which only slightly set his mind at ease. No one seemed to trample her, most likely too frightened to go near the horrifying scene within the room. 

In his hurry, he failed to see the king’s advisor peeking from behind his own door at the commotion in the hall. 

✵✵✵✵✵

When the deed was done Aelora sat numbly upon her bed. Red stained her hands and face, and it soaked her dark nightgown. The smell of blood was overwhelming, it filled the air and made her head spin. The sight of Viseryon’s metallic eyes staring blankly at her was haunting, and it did nothing but add to the surreal feeling she found herself experiencing. Her intention was not to behead him, yet the way she continued to stab his neck made that decision for her. She felt as if she couldn’t form a coherent thought. The way he choked on his own blood was burned into her mind. The gurgling sound he made as he tried to scream and breath and cry played on a loop in her head. She feared she would never be able to forget that sound. 

What would happen when they found him? She slid off of the bed and felt the blood that drenched her dress drip down her legs. Her gown stuck to her skin uncomfortably and the way her thighs seamlessly glided against each other made her want to scream. She glanced back at the carnage she created, and part of her mind wandered. Her knife was still embedded in the jagged stump of his neck, surrounded by still oozing blood. She wondered how much pain he was in when he died. Her eye trailed to the red that stained the tangle of his silver hair - no part of him went unsoiled, clearly. The scene was sickening. Surely they would kill her for this. She knew she couldn’t stay there.

Aelora stumbled her way out the door, feeling her once dry mouth fill with saliva as she fought the uneasy turning of her stomach. She leaned against the wall, breathing heavily and feeling the cool air fill her lungs. Her stained hands spread against the wall, and she knew there would be blood left in their wake. Her tear filled eyes met Gríma’s door. The air was sobering. 

She pushed herself off the wall and tumbled to the door across from her. Her hand ghosted across the wooden surface before she gently rapped on it. “Gríma…” She whispered. It was time. There was a shift in the air as the aqua haze before her faded ever so slightly, and the spell she cast on the kingdom was lifted only for her lover. 

Gríma awoke with a startled gasp, looking out into the darkness of his room while he slowly remembered where he was. The violet glow poured in through the bathroom door which had been left open by just a crack, and in the low light he realized he was alone. He heard the gentle tapping at his door. He paused for a moment, trying his best to compose himself and think through his sleep-addled mind. 

He slid out of bed and felt around for something to cover himself. His clothes were strewn about the room and there were far too many layers to struggle to put on, so he made his way to his desk where a long, dark tunic was draped on the back of his chair. He slipped it over his narrow shoulders and made his way to the door. He opened it slowly.

The sight before him was frightful. Aelora stood in his doorway with a blank look in her eye. Blood painted her hands and face, and it drenched her long, silver hair. He couldn’t help but take a step back out of fear. He never expected her to kill Viseryon that night, he figured she would have waited. Despite his fear, he reached out for her and caught her collapsing form in his arms.

“Aelora?” She looked up at him through half lidded eyes. “Come inside, my love. I’ll run a bath for you.” He chose not to bring up what she had done. He took one last look down the hall to make sure no one could see her, and he made sure her door was shut, before leading her inside. She seemed to be in a daze. He guided her to the bathroom and rushed around to light the coals beneath the tub, grateful that the water was still there. He couldn’t summon someone to fetch water at that time of night, especially not with Lady Aelora in his room at all, let alone covered in blood. 

“It’s done.” She muttered. He glanced back at her from over his shoulder and nodded curtly. “I know, my love.” He kept calling her that, it came so naturally to him, falling from his lips with no resistance. The coals glowed a deep orange and a fire grew beneath the tub, and the smell of smoke filled the air and competed with the overbearing smell of metal that came from Aelora. He turned to face her finally, still kneeling on the ground while she watched the water silently.

“The people of Rohan will be grateful for what you’ve done… eventually.” He tried to find a silver lining in all of this, a way to make her feel better. He tried doing what he did best, and that was kissing up to people. He didn’t mind doing so to Aelora. Her red gaze flickered to him, and behind her eyes there was suspicion. “Will they?” She spoke in a harsh whisper. 

“Of course they will. If you were telling the truth then Viseryon would be a traitor and a potential usurper. I think we both know he would have been unfit to wear the crown.” He rose to his feet and rubbed soothingly along her shoulders. “You made the right choice. And they may fear you now but in time they will see the way your actions served the realm.” Blood stuck to his palms. 

“They’ll want me dead. They’ll have me killed.” She stated. Gríma shook his head. 

“I won’t let them.” He said firmly. He would never admit it to her, but he needed her to kill Viseryon - the lord jeopardized everything he had worked to achieve. Of course, the plan had been slightly derailed with Aelora around, and as of now he was content with remaining the king’s advisor. Her crimson eyes met his and she gave him a small smile, though there was still a sadness to her. 

The water in the tub began to bubble slightly and warm steam began to rise off of its surface. Gríma quickly turned around and put the flames out, but when he turned back to Aelora she was already stripping. She dropped her blood soaked gown to the ground and he could see the way the red clung to the pale skin of her thighs and stomach. Her long hair came to rest over her breasts, the length of silver stopping just below her navel. There was blood clumping parts of her hair together toward the ends. 

She walked toward the tub, much to Gríma’s alarm. He reached out for her, grabbing ahold of her wrist and stopping her just before she was able to climb into the boiling water. “Aelora, wait. You’ll burn yourself.” She looked back at him with her same tired eyes. She shook her head. “Don’t worry about me.” 

Gently, she pulled her hand away and turned back to the tub. She took a deep breath, as if preparing herself for what may happen. He watched her closely with wide, wild eyes, unsure of what she was thinking. He desperately didn’t want her to hurt herself, but he wondered if the boiling water would snap her out of whatever trance she was under. Would the water even hurt her? 

“I’ll be fine.” She sank into the water, submerging herself from head to toe. Gríma froze. There was no thrashing, she didn’t rise from the water with a scream, there were no signs to indicate she was in pain. She simply sat still. He waited quietly, holding his breath for as long as she remained underwater. The steam from the bath filled the room and chased the cold back out the window, which had remained open since Aelora cast her spell. Sweat beaded at the back of his neck and beneath his tunic. He could barely hide how afraid he was for her.

It was odd. He had known Aelora for only four days now, yet he couldn’t deny he cared for her. He wondered if it was due to her being so unafraid to be near him, or if it was the way she held his gaze and touched him. In all of his life he’d only wanted one woman, the Lady Éowyn, and much like everyone else around him she would never let him near her. For years he had watched the king’s niece from afar, only dreaming of having her affection. He thought there was no one fairer than she in all of Middle Earth, and then Aelora came along. He certainly saw the parallels when he first started following Aelora around, convincing himself that he was following her out of his duty to the throne as opposed to the fact he found her attractive. 

He moved slowly toward the tub, realizing she had been underwater for far too long. As he stared into the water at her white locks floating around her, he thought of how she proved the impossible was possible. Someone could love him, even if so far it seemed she was only interested in the physical. He hoped with Viseryon out of the way their affair could blossom into something more. Ah yes, the other reason he wanted the Sohnyar lord out of the way. He would never admit it aloud, and he hardly liked thinking about it, but he desperately wanted Aelora to stay. With all of Viseryon’s scheming and the way Aelora was essentially his property, he knew he could never have her with him around. 

Gríma was and always would be a selfish man.

Aelora arose from the water with a gasp, pushing her hair from her face as the red tinted liquid dripped from her arms. She seemed more awake now, and she looked at Gríma with aware eyes. He dropped to his knees once more, resting his hands on the rim of the tub as he looked at her with awe. She let out an airy laugh that gradually grew into a more manic, uncontrolled laugh. Tears brimmed in her eyes and he could tell something was terribly wrong. She quieted down after a moment, sniffling and wiping her tears away.

“I’m sorry, I just… I can’t believe I did that.” She admitted, hiding her face in her hands. “I can’t believe I’m finally free.” He did wonder what hell Aelora had been living in for most of her life.

“Are you alright?” She looked at him again before looking over herself, and she let out another small chuckle. 

“Oh, right. The water.” She stopped and smiled sweetly. She seemed much more lucid now. “The heat doesn’t hurt me, fire won’t hurt me either. Fire does not burn those born of dragons.” She explained simply. Her pale flesh turned a rosy pink in the water, and he couldn’t help but mentally cringe at the sight. She said she wasn’t hurting though, and he supposed that was all that mattered. He inched nearer.

“If I may,” he began, awkwardly clearing his throat as he struggled to word his question, “what exactly did you do to him?” Aelora froze. With how much blood covered her he was sure it was gruesome. She clearly had a lot of vitriol reserved for her creator. She let out a sigh.

“I’d rather not say.” She whispered. He understood. 

“Then I’ll ask another question. Why tonight?” Gríma had several questions he needed answered, but of course that one was the most important. When he suggested Aelora kill Viseryon he didn’t expect her to act on it immediately. He hoped Aelora would wait and consult him, perhaps go about things in a more subtle way. He would have given her the poisons to do it without a second thought. The way she did it, and the suddenness of her actions, made it incredibly hard to spin a tale absolving her of the blame. She shifted in the tub, coming closer to the rim and her lover. The violet moonlight shone down on her and made her hair look like pure white. Then, as he looked a bit closer, he saw it. 

Around her neck were large, blossoming bruises in the shape of Viseryon’s fingers. They seemed much more vibrant in the unnatural lighting, but that didn’t change the way Gríma’s breath hitched. He knew she mentioned that her creator had tried to kill her before they drifted to sleep, but she never mentioned how. He couldn’t believe it, and he wondered how he missed such a thing earlier in the night. His face was so close to it, his lips brushed over it, and yet he never noticed. He took her hand in his and her flesh nearly burned his. 

“I told you he tried to kill me.” She began. The raven haired man nodded. “I said he couldn’t find out about us or he would kill me. Going back to him like that…”

“I’ll find a way to help you.” Gríma promised, bringing her steaming knuckles to his lips. She blushed at the action and smiled. He loved seeing her smile, especially knowing what he knows now. 

The steam continued to rise from the tub and he wanted nothing more for the water to cool enough for him to slip in beside her. He reached for the stand against the wall and pulled an old rag from the drawer. It was a pale blue color and looked as if it was falling apart. It looked like it would be scratchy against her skin. He dipped it in the water, ignoring how hot it still was, and brought the cloth to Aelora’s cheek where he gently wiped away the blood that remained after her soak. The blood that still stuck to her skin was flaky and broke away easily with each pass of the cloth. 

Aelora closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. “You will tell them what you told me.” Gríma stated firmly. She glanced at him, hardly able to hide the uncertainty and apprehension in her eyes. “Lay low tomorrow. Leave the king and his decision to me.” She nodded. He handed her the cloth so she could finish up wiping away the evidence of her crime. She took it gingerly and began scrubbing her arms and hands.

Gríma turned and gazed at the violet moon, filled with uncertainty. He let his mind wander as he wondered why the sky looked the way it did. He looked back at Aelora, almost afraid to ask about the moon. He thought about the way he woke up so suddenly when Aelora was at his door, and the way the kingdom seemed so quiet, even for the middle of the night. The moon had not budged since he fell asleep.

“I shall fetch a bucket to clear the water before the maids find it.” He told her, rising to his feet. She let out a sigh, sinking back into the water up to her shoulders while her hands gripped the edge of the tub. 

“Yes, it would be best to dump the water before everyone wakes.” She remarked calmly. “At least you won’t have to worry about sneaking around.” Gríma frowned.

“What do you mean by that?” He asked. She smirked. 

“The spell invoking a violet moon puts people in a deep sleep. Nothing will wake them until the caster says so, or unless they set specific requirements that need to be met. I can assure you we’re fine for the time being.” Aelora explained as she closed her eyes. The way she constantly seemed to switch between alarmed and confidently calm was confusing, to say the least. He should have known she would have taken the precautions to make sure no one would interrupt her. 

“Was I-” 

“You were. I made sure you would wake when I called your name.” That explained why he woke so suddenly. 

When she was done bathing they both worked to drain the tub, dumping the red tinted water out the window by the bucket full. It seeped into the ground slowly, pooling on the grassy surface and splashing mud on the wooden wall. By the morning it would be gone.

 Gríma dressed Aelora in a spare tunic he had, and together they went to bed. She curled up in his arms as she did hours before, and for a moment it was as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all.

✵✵✵✵✵

Éomer stared down at Viseryon’s remains, masking his horror. 

They had set up a pyre to display the carnage for the king to see, and for anyone who might have wanted to pay their respects. His head had not been reattached, but it was aligned with his neck and a single red ribbon had been draped across the split. The Sohnyar lord’s eyes had been closed, and his hands were neatly folded across his chest. They had someone dress him in the clothes he arrived in: a black overcoat embroidered with diamond patterns and a maroon tunic with black pants, and a bronze pin adorned with a snake-like dragon encircling the world was placed over his left breast. On his left forefinger was a similar bronze ring adorned with a red gem in the center of the dragon’s eye. His long hair had been carefully braided into a single braid that was laid under his body. 

He looked like a proper Sohnyar for the first and last time. The last of the Draecyr line, laid to rest in a land foreign to him by his own creation. He might have been unbearable in life but Éomer couldn’t help but feel bad for the nearly forgotten family. Their last son…

It reminded him of the recent loss that plagued his uncle. 

Of course, Viseryon’s situation was different. His parents had died by the time the lord turned thirteen, the year the Sohnyar boys were to cut their hair signifying that they were men. The length of Viseryon’s hair showed he kept with tradition and refused to cut it again. He seemed much more at peace now, dressed up by those who tended to the dead, than he did that morning. The image of his detached head and bloodied body would stick in Éomer’s mind for a long time, and he feared seeing it appear in his nightmares. 

It would not be the last of the horrific things the young heir would witness.

Théoden king sat upon his throne, wheezing with each labored breath and staring down at the scene before him from behind white bushy brows. Beside him sat Gríma, perched in his seat in his usual gargoyle-like way, who uncharacteristically had not said a word the entire time. He hardly moved to whisper in the king’s ear. His dark aura was a plague upon Éomer’s uncle, who was already a distressed and troubled man. Ever since the death of Théodred, Théoden king’s health began to decline. The already aging man seemed to give in to the effects of time almost rapidly, and he slowly became unable to think for himself. He trusted Gríma before all of this, and he continued to trust the man now, much to the dismay of his nephew. Éomer blamed the advisor for his uncle’s failing health.

In the corner of the room stood his sister, Éowyn, who watched the room wearily. She was dressed in a deep emerald green that juxtaposed her brother’s maroon armor. The velvet dress was embroidered with golden thread. She looked similar to her brother, with golden hair and fair skin. They both had the same round face and sullen eyes. He was taller than her by a few inches, with dark facial hair and an all around rougher exterior. 

She stayed close to the shadows, shrinking away in the corner of the room in hopes of staying out of Wormtongue's sight. It didn’t work as she’d hoped, for his eye found her the moment she walked into the room. She came to the great hall to see just what everyone was whispering about, much to her brother’s dismay, and was slightly relieved to see that the body had been mostly restored and made presentable. 

The last person in the room was Kenric, who silently sat to the side, opposite of Lady Éowyn, where he tuned his instrument. He rushed back to Meduseld after leaving Hilda with a healer near her home. He was assured she would be alright. He watched out of curiosity, waiting to see what would happen and find out who killed Viseryon.

The front doors to the hall had been left open just enough for people to file through if they pleased, and the bright light of the sun shone through the crack. Its white light fell upon Viseryon’s body and Éomer like a spotlight, and it stretched their shadows across the floor before the king and his advisor. Despite the light, the room was somber and cold. It showed just how empty the hall was, and the contrast made the shadows appear much darker than they were. 

“I’ve yet to receive word on the dragon blood’s whereabouts. We found a knife that we suspect belongs to her in his neck this morning.” Éomer’s strong voice echoed through the hall. He reached into the satchel he wore on his hip and produced Aelora’s curved blade, and Gríma felt his body tense. 

Aelora was still in his chambers, most likely sleeping soundly in his bed. They discussed the plan one more time before going to sleep, and he decided then to do most of the heavy lifting. He would attempt to convince everyone she was innocent and kidnapped, and if that didn’t work then she would tell the truth of why Viseryon was there in the first place. After agreeing to this, she requested he bring some of her own clothes when it was safe to do so, and when he returned later that day with a few of her dresses she was asleep again, holding the pillow he’d laid on the night before tightly. The dire situation didn’t change the fact that the image before him was one he’d imagined a million times before - though it was always with a different woman than her. 

The dark haired man was surprised the guards hadn’t ransacked his room yet, given how much he was sure Éomer suspected he was behind the killing. 

Gríma turned to the king and for the first time that day he whispered, “And he suspects the dragon blood of such a crime? They’re renowned for their loyalty to their creators. I have my doubts about this accusation, my king.” Théoden’s tired eyes met Gríma’s, and he thought about the words being fed to him. It was true, dragon bloods were supposed to be loyal to a fault. The day the Draecyrs arrived in Edoras, his niece had reminded him of the tale of Naessa, the dragon blood created by usurper Queen Caecelia of the Six - also a Draecyr, who was executed for carrying out what her creator wanted - which was to kill the then king of Rohan, Alrid, who had been crowned before the first line was established with Eorl. Caecelia plunged the realm into a brief chaos before Eorl slayed Naessa and executed the Sohnyar woman. Ever since then, there had been very few Sohnyar welcome back into Rohan, especially Draecyrs. 

From what his fragile mind could remember, Naessa was a pitiful creature. Aelora hardly seemed comparable to her, though. 

“Dragon bloods… are… loyal.” Théoden’s voice wavered as he huffed each word out. Gríma nodded. 

“Excellent observation, my liege.” He turned his attention to the king’s nephew. “What makes you think she was able to go against her own nature?” 

The younger man’s expression darkened with anger. He had to tread carefully and not jump to accuse anyone just yet, given he heard the rumors about the advisor and Aelora. He knew Gríma was lying, as he usually did, but his lies couldn’t completely cover up the evidence. That was Aelora’s knife, it was a particular blade found only amongst the Sohnyar, there was no denying it. 

“This is her knife, Gríma. I know it.” He stated firmly, holding the knife by its handle and the tip of its blade. The advisor narrowed his pale eyes at this and frowned. 

“How are you so sure?” He asked, leaning forward ever so slightly. If he could continue to sew the seeds of doubt into the young lord then he could easily absolve Aelora of any guilt. “For all we know that was Lord Draecyr’s blade, after all, I don’t see her name branded on it. It’s simply a Sohnian blade, it easily could have been taken from Viseryon earlier in the day and used in the murder later.” 

“Do you consider me a fool, Gríma?” Éomer boomed. The lord was quickly losing his patience. The pale man shifted in his seat uncomfortably, practically shrinking back into his over cloak, looking like a pile of cloth seated beside the king. 

“Of course not, my lord.” 

“Then do not force me to call your character into question in front of my uncle.” That had to be a threat. Gríma brought a hand up to his chest where he nervously played with the bronze chain that hung beneath his cloak. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” He seethed. The blond glared at him. 

“I will not sit to the side and watch as another situation like Naessa evolves before my eyes. I will not lose my uncle.” It took everything in his power to not call Gríma out. He chose the safer route. The treacherous man before him opened his mouth to speak - to spew more lies to protect the woman he’d come to love. 

Did he truly love her? Surely it was too early to decide.

“All I suggest is that we mustn’t jump to conclusions. The king is right, a dragon blood would be incapable of such violence against their creator.” 

“He was found in her room.” The blond man countered in a harsh voice. Gríma was hardly affected by the outburst.

“This is true, yet we haven’t been able to find her. Who’s to say the killer didn’t kill her too. Perhaps they kidnapped her, not that they would get very far with her in that case. I’d imagine it’s very hard to capture an angry and defensive dragon blood.” Gríma suggested, to which the throne’s heir scoffed. He turned his dark gaze to his uncle, who seemed to listen less and less to his council in favor of Gríma’s as of late. He hoped, for his own sake, that Théoden would listen to him. 

“Uncle, please.” He began, his face softening. “I believe she’s dangerous. We don’t know where she is and I fear for your safety.” He was never in danger, Gríma thought exhaustedly. 

“We have no reason to believe she would want to kill you, my liege. Your nephew is simply playing up his usual hysterics to convince everyone his own prejudices are rational. Lady Aelora has been a rather polite guest, and I followed her around myself to be sure she and her creator weren’t planning to usurp you. She is not a threat.” Gríma whispered to the king. Théoden sat blankly, taking in the information all at once and struggling to process it. He had hardly been around Éomer as of late and could not confirm whether his nephew did have something against Lady Aelora. He supposed if Gríma had been following her around he would have witnessed this behavior. He trusted the man beside him. 

“Have I ever lied to you, my king?” Gríma continued, “I have every reason to believe Aelora was not behind this, and in the unlikely case that she was, there must be a reason behind it. I don’t think a girl of her stature could even behead Viseryon in the way it was done. Look, his hair is uncut. Do you really think Lady Aelora, a woman raised so entrenched in Sohnian culture as herself, would really kill Viseryon without cutting his hair? It signifies defeat in their culture, she had every reason to do so, and yet it remains untouched. Don’t believe Éomer’s fear mongering.” 

Théoden supposed they should look for her first and then go from there. He wholeheartedly believed the girl was in trouble, like Gríma suggested, and if they could find her they could get the answers they so desperately sought. 

“We… must find her.” Théoden began, his voice less weak than before. “We must… ask her who… did this.” 

Then, a large shadow rose over the hill, stretching along the stone floor of Meduseld and casting Éomer, Gríma, and Théoden in darkness. Between the doors now stood Aelora, dressed head to toe in a bright scarlet. Her silver locks were braided back into a single braid that cascaded down her back like the sterling waters of a waterfall. Around her neck was a large, ornate golden choker that took the shape of a dragon. The creature coiled around the length of her neck, hiding most of her skin beneath its golden scales. And on her fingers were two golden rings that connected to a bracelet on her wrist by a golden chain. She waltzed into the great hall, catching the eye of everyone inside and everyone who waited outside. 

Aelora usually dressed in black. Every time Éomer saw her she wore a dark dress with red rarely showing on the garment. It was more common to see her draped in gold jewelry than to see the red underneath the sleeves of her dresses. To see her now, when she should be mourning, dressed in such a bright shade of red, was alarming. She had no shame.

Gríma couldn’t believe what he was seeing either. He was the one to bring her clothes when they woke up in the morning, after the crowd had dispersed and the guards moved Viseryon’s body from her room. He brought her three dresses like she’d asked for: two black ones and a red one. He never expected her to choose the red one. He felt his silver tongue turn to lead in his mouth. 

The dragon blooded woman stopped before Viseryon’s body, staring down at him silently while everyone watched her. Éomer grit his teeth and pushed toward her, yet she did not flinch. Her hands laid on the pyre gently. 

“Lady Aelora,” Éomer began, “where have you been?” 

She glanced up at him. He saw nothing but calmness in her eyes. Not sadness, not anger, there was no malice, only calm. Her gaze traveled past him and to the king’s advisor. It was a subtle look, but it was all Éomer needed to confirm his suspicions. The rumors were true, and Gríma had Viseryon killed for his own selfish reasons. 

“I was resting.” She answered honestly, looking back down at Viseryon. 

“And where were you las-”

“I killed him.” Aelora admitted, though that much should have been obvious. Gríma’s eyes grew wide as he watched everything he worked hard to convince Éomer of burned before him. If he had a little more time he would have been able to subdue the lord. He watched everyone wearily, at a loss for words for the time being. 

“So you admit it?” Éomer breathed. Aelora stood up straight and looked the lord in his dark eyes. The look set the hairs on the back of his neck on end, though he would not show it. He was a seasoned warrior and he knew that there was never a proper time to show fear. “You killed your own creator in cold blood.” 

“Not everything is as it seems, Lord Éomer.” The dragon blood spoke. Her hands came up to her neck as she undid the golden clasp at the back of her choker. The dragon split and she lowered the necklace to reveal the bright purple and blue bruises that adorned her neck. She dropped the heavy necklace on the ground.

“Viseryon was a dangerous man. He was sent here to kill you, Théoden king, and dragged me along with him. I was to do the killing. He never said what would have happened to me, and I came to love this place. He made me destroy our carriage in order to stay longer, so out of fear of what he would do to me I snuck off in the middle of the night to burn it. He told me the plan, that we would kill the king by the seventh day and he would be rewarded with the throne. I thought about it, and I knew this kingdom would be doomed if he wore the crown. Then I realized I would be the one to take the fall for his actions. If I killed the king I would be blamed and executed. I refused to kill for him.” She stopped and fought back tears. “I refused to kill for him and he tried to strangle me. He said he would kill me for not obeying him… it was him or me, and I refuse to betray the crown.” She cried. 

Éomer froze as his heart dropped. He had a sneaking suspicion that was what the Draecyrs were doing in Rohan, much like everyone else. The only person who seemed to think it was a good idea was Gríma himself and from the sounds of it, he didn’t entirely trust them either. Aelora brushed past the pyre and to the steps leading to the throne. Éomer was quick to jump in front of her, fearing for a moment she would attempt to assassinate the king. 

“The things he tried to do to me…” Aelora trailed off, finding the new revelation of why Viseryon acted the way he did around her was too much to bear at the moment. She took a deep breath. “He treated me like property. He isolated me from anyone and everyone. When I had begun to make friends here in Rohan he accused me of terrible things and insisted on sleeping with me in my bed for the rest of our stay, as if I was the one who couldn’t be trusted. I did everything he asked me to. He was all I had, my safety, my world… until he wasn’t. The moment he wrapped his hands around my throat was the moment I realized I had to get away.” She explained. She dropped to her knees, her skirt collapsing around her legs like the flaming feathers of a phoenix. 

“I beg for your forgiveness. I know what I have done is a horrible crime, but I ask you, am I not a person like you? Do I get no say in what happens to me just because I am the creation of another? Am I not allowed to fight to live, just as you would?” She couldn’t see the way Lady Éowyn’s demeanor changed. She was almost sympathetic to Aelora. Almost. 

Gríma, on the other hand, was rather impressed with her display. She was telling the truth, technically. Though she left out the crucial detail of why Viseryon tried to kill her, twisting it in her own way to garner sympathy. One look at Théoden and he knew the old king was falling for her act. Hell, the way she cried about Viseryon’s controlling nature pulled at his own heartstrings, though he knew it would. It happened before. 

“You can’t argue self defense with this. The man was beheaded.” Éomer argued, much to Aelora and Gríma’s dismay. The pale man quickly got to work to counter this point with the king.

“She must have been gravely upset, after all, the man did try to kill her. We don’t know if he tried again in her chambers, and in my opinion he must have, wouldn’t you agree?” The king nodded. 

“And how do we know those bruises are from Viseryon? The kingdom whispers of how you lay with snakes.” Or perhaps worms would be the more accurate word, Éomer thought as he watched Aelora’s face drop. She looked betrayed, but not angry. The way she was able to camouflage her emotions was impressive. Gríma nervously pressed his thin lips into a thinner line. 

“Who I’ve shared my bed with previously has no bearing on the matter, but if it concerns you so I will have you know I am still a virgin, my lord.” She lied to his face with no malice or annoyance in her voice at the accusation. “And I know the people who vie for my affection wouldn’t harm me in the way Viseryon had.” She stood up straight and made her way back to the pyre where she grabbed one of Viseryon’s cold, rigid hands.

“Here, I’ll prove to you it was him.” She bent down slightly and pulled his hand to her neck, readjusting his fingers to fit the pattern left behind from the day before. They fit perfectly, each one sliding onto its designated purple line like a puzzle piece falling into place. She felt her heart beat faster with his hand touching her neck again. The feeling brought her back to the hall the day before, and she didn’t like remembering that.

Gríma quickly turned to the king and began whispering. “His hands are a perfect match, lord, see? She must be speaking the truth.” He gestured to Aelora, and the king nodded. Gríma made plenty of sense to him, it had to have been a self defense killing, and one that preserved his own life at that. 

Éomer felt slight guilt as he spoke again. 

“We cannot be sure that was him, his hands are about the size of mine.” He stated somberly. Aelora let out a sigh. She wouldn’t give up just yet.

“It’s the truth.” Spoke a meek voice from behind them. Both Éomer and Aelora turned around and their eyes met the small frame of the maid Hilda. Kenric immediately sat up, overwhelmingly relieved to see his friend awake. “I saw Lord Viseryon strangling Lady Aelora in the halls yesterday. He was furious with her, for what I don’t know, but it truly seemed like he would kill her. I saw her face turn purple before he let go.” She recounted, stepping shyly into the hall. 

“I wouldn’t doubt it was because she refused to kill the king.” Hilda finished, coming to a stop beside Kenric in the corner. The dark haired man turned to the king once more and whispered one last request.

“Let her stay. She’s proven herself trustworthy.”

Théoden struggled to get to his feet, reaching for a black staff with a handle made out of some sort of bone. His joints creaked and his hand wobbled as he supported himself. Gríma quickly stood, reaching out his arms in an attempt to help the king up and to make sure he didn’t fall. Théoden waved his hand, and his advisor stood to the side. Slowly, the aging king hobbled forward and down the steps. His nephew stepped out of the way, but Aelora stood still. He stopped before her and caught his breath.

“I thank you, then.” He began, “You show loyalty… to… a land that isn’t your own…” He struggled once more, moving his face away as he coughed. “You have earned your… place here.” The room fell silent, but she could tell the king’s nephew was far from pleased. A small smile formed on her lips as she curtsied. 

“Thank you, your highness. I am forever in your debt.” She stated as sincerely as possible, when really she knew the person she owed the most was Gríma. She turned back to Viseryon’s body. She had one last request.

“The Sohnyar are to be burned when they die. We see it as a connection to Arien and a way of returning ourselves to her.” She stated lowly. “Viseryon deserved nothing in life, but I ask we at least grant him this.” The king nodded. 

As Aelora fled the hall, and Éowyn and Éomer rushed to help their uncle back to his chambers to rest, Kenric strummed lightly on his lute. Gríma stood before the throne, listening as Kenric sang softly.

Lady Aelora, dressed in red,

Not a tear she did shed for her creator

who now lay cold and dead.

____________________________________________________ Some things of note:

This story is a mix of book canon and movie canon

I've taken some liberties with the timeline and had Theodred's death moved up by a year because this story takes place in 3017 while LOTR takes place in 3018.

The lesser born characters Hilda and Kenric will be making multiple appearances throughout this story.

The Sohnyar are a race of man that I came up with, they come from the mostly volcanic island of Sohn which was scorched when Morgoth attempted to ravage Arien. It's mentioned here that the Sohnyar are burned when they die as a means of reuniting themselves with Arien, so that's what that's referring to. Queen Caecelia of The Six is mentioned because she is a very important figure in Sohnian culture. She is the second born Draecyr and the second of The Six original Sohnyar who were created by Morgoth and Arien. The Draecyrs came from the ground and made up the first three of The Six, while the other Sohnian family, The Aeryses, came from the smoke in the air. Their island was sunk by Morgoth in an attempt to wipe his failure from the earth, but the Sohnyar fled and made their way to middle earth where they settled in Gondor. The Sohnyar have a special connection to dragons and are the only group of people on Arda to have created dragon bloods, and the creatures originated with the Aeryses. Caecelia, who married Alrid, was jealous of Tyrienne Aerys who kept her last name after marrying, and opted to create the dragon blood Naessa to obtain power. Just a bit of a lore dump. I plan on writing about this more later after I finish Aelora's story.

Also, Imma be real, I really tried to keep Grima in character but idk if I was able to do it so sorry if it's a bit ooc :)

[imhereformysciencefriends]

@mcyt-yuri-week Day 2: AU

This work is explicit! Read on AO3 here.

Meet me down by the river, Bring the pumpkin seeds, the autumn stone, Meet me down by the river, Bring the cherry flowers, the breath of spring, Meet me down by the river, Bring summer’s fire, winter’s wet cold, Meet me down by the river, Bring your candlelight, and your voice to sing.

Gem sang softly to herself as she approached the designated place, candlelight flickering across her face from where she held the slowly melting wax in one hand, big baskets slung over her shoulder of her other arm and flowers braided all throughout her hair.

At the river’s bank stood Lizzie, pumpkins growing hilter skilter all around her, her massive pumpkin-turned-house behind her and nestled in the big, broad leaves. Gem once again felt a pang of jealousy: she could never grow pumpkins that big. But Lizzie had been doing this witch stuff a bit longer than Gem, and every witch had her strengths and weaknesses—er, opportunities for growth!

In this case literally.

“Gem!” Lizzie greeted, her plain blue robe fastened loosely around the waist, nothing but that and her hat and her cheerful attitude adorning her.

“See, you were smart. You just built on the river. You don’t have to hike ten billion miles.”

Lizzie chuckled, gathering her hair behind her before letting it fall loose. Not much point trying to put it up now, since she’d just be letting it back down in a minute anyway.

“But if you didn’t live up on the mountainside, who’d bring me the flowers?” she asked with a grin and grabby hands, and Gem giggled as she handed ‘em over. Beautiful pink blossoms, collected by the hundred.

Gem stretched her arms above her head, hardly sore from carrying the baskets of flowers but happy to hold her arms at something other than a ninety degree angle for the first time in a few hours. Lizzie got to work scattering the blossoms amongst the candles circling the campfire. Above the campfire, low flames and lower heat, hung the “stewpot,” a hollowed out pumpkin with potatoes and wild hare simmering inside (and knowing Lizzie, it had been simmering for hours already). Gem set her own candle amongst the other lights, scattered some flowers of her own until there was a “walkpath” of pink and green encircling the inner candles, but encircled by the outer. Gem nudged one of the candles in the outer ring, wanting it just a touch further from the blossoms they spread out.

“Alright!” Lizzie said, hands on her hips and feet stanced wide, proudly surveying the area. “That about does it, I think! Ready for dinner?”

“Just us tonight?” Gem asked. Usually they had at least a couple guests, novice witches or curious friends wanting to see if the rumors were true themselves.

“Just us! I might’ve made too much stew, now that you mention it.”

“Eh, anything leftover’ll soak into the ashes afterwards,” Gem waved off, taking a seat at the edge of the fire and using half of the “lid” of the stewpot to ladle out some stew and bring it to her lips. Lizzie took the other half and did the same, the two enjoying companionable silence and anticipation together. The potatoes and hare were really just to have something in their bellies before the event started, they weren’t important the way the pumpkin was important.

Lizzie finished first, and waited for Gem to have her fill—but not too full—before the pair stood, stretching lightly. The final dregs of dusk finally slipped away, casting them all in the cold blanketing darkness of night, but the candles were numerous enough that neither worried about mobs. Not that mobs tended to get too close, anyway, when such magics were stirring.

“Well come on then,” Lizzie urged, tugging loose the cloth belt around her waist and letting her blue robe drop to the cool earth, fall’s breeze prickling her skin.

“Excuse you! Not all of us can just wander out here from across our front yard! I had to dress for mountain climbing you know,” Gem said, peeling off her own layers. Her bare toes curled against the cool grass and flower petals, goosebumps breaking out with each layer she removed. She’d appreciate the cold in a minute, but right now forcing the layers off was nearly unbearable.

“I could help?” Lizzie offered with a waggling of eyebrows and a cat’s grin, and Gem stuck her tongue out.

“You’ll help me plenty later,” she said as she undid her pants and yanked both sturdy denim and lacy underwear down and off her. She kicked her pantleg off her ankle with a huff, then entered the candlelight opposite Lizzie, the campfire crackling lazily between them, flower petals soft beneath her feet.

”Meet me down by the river…” Gem started, her voice hitting high, clear notes. Around them, Autumn brushed against their skins, the hairs on their arms and the backs of their necks prickling.

Lizzie’s voice joined with Gem’s, and the two started walking clockwise along the floral path, taking their time to start. Against their ears, both could hear the far off giggling of Spring.

The fire, untouched by human hands, began to rise, no additional kindling added but its flames burning higher and hotter, so that the pumpkin in its middle was obscured. Cold pressed in like hands against a window pane, outside the outer candles’ ring, but did not seep in any farther into the fire’s glow.

The first song finished, then the fun really began.

They forfeited walking, and began to dance.

Naked and wild, they danced, and they sang, Gem’s red hair blazing in the firelight, Lizzie’s pale skin gleaming in the moon. Gem’s voice was louder, but Lizzie’s less prone to stumbling over half-forgotten words, carrying when Gem’s memory faltered.

They both began to sweat, despite Autumn’s presence, dancing and twirling and stomping and waving their arms about wildly, no drumbeat except their feet upon the earth, no strings except the chords of their voices. Wild, bold, joyous, the witches sang and danced under the full moon and like water into a skein they felt the magic join them, enter them. Wild as the hare they caught and ate, wild as the seasons in their capricious natures, wild as the moon that loved the ocean and the sun that loved the moon, wild as magic had always been, would always be.

Gem felt it pool inside her, cold as ice water but not chilling her. Hot as a match but not burning. It glinted and glistened and ran and laughed and sang with them. Oh, how the magic sings. Voiceless and louder than thunder, the magic eclipsed the mortal voices of the witches that summoned it hither, and Gem never could tell at this point in the dance if her mouth was open because she was still singing or because that was necessary for how hard she was breathing.

Half-mindless with euphoria and adrenaline, the dance turned into a chase. Still wild, still rhythmic, still singing, Gem and Lizzie now lept like springing deer, pursuing one another as animals in flight.

Lizzie was smaller, and dexterous, but Gem was a historically sore loser, with physical aptitude to match. Lizzie tried to chase, at first, and then attempted to outrun, but her lithe little legs were no match for Gem on a hunt, and soon her freckled arms tangled around pale skin, rushing her so the two collapsed onto the ground. A rush of petals exploded around them at the force of their descent, and Gem grinned, eyes half-glazed over with the song and dance and base instincts of the hunt. Lizzie giggled up, perhaps even more moon-drunk than Gem, and Gem bent to lay claim to her prize.

Lizzie moaned into her mouth, arching up off the pretty pink petals, her pretty pink hair splayed out, messy and askew, upon the blooms. Gem caressed her body with the wild fervor of a witch in dance, and Lizzie gave as good as she got, tangling fingers in wild red hair and hiking her spread legs up over Gem’s thighs and hips.

The punishment of ‘losing’ the chase was, of course, that Lizzie was forced to lay there and take it as Gem sank her mouth to Lizzie’s lower lips and sucked like a drowned man gasping for air. That Gem won the hunt and so could touch and grope and surge and act while Lizzie was subjected to her whims. The punishment for ‘winning’ was, of course, that even as Gem squeezed palmfuls of soft flesh and thrust her tongue into her folds, Gem’s own cunt hung wet and dripping and exposed and untouched.

Well, until she was finished with Lizzie, at least, the witch’s howls of pleasure crescendoing in the magic as a wolf’s to the moon. Gem gave her shaking body not a moment of reprieve, crawling up with little pink petals sticking to her sweat damp skin. The moment she was able, she lowered herself to Lizzie’s panting mouth, fingers parting her own folds, orange bush wiry against her too-sensitive skin. Everything was too much, right then, magic pooled in her and the song resounding in her skull, but neither was it enough.

Lizzie took to her task enthusiastically, Gem gasping and rocking her hips down on her face. Lizzie’s arms came up to grasp around Gem’s thighs, and Gem switched to burying her fingers in pink hair, wild with abandon and careless of Lizzie’s comfort. This far into the lust-blind haze of magic and adrenaline, neither would feel it if either of them even was in any pain. Even moon-drunk, Lizzie knew how to use her tongue, and it wasn’t long before Gem was wailing and gasping as well, back arched in the candlelight and silver of the moon.

As her paroxysm crashed over her, so too did the magic reach its climax within her. She could feel it imbuing her, not just filling her but permeating her every inch, from the dips of her ankles up the lengths of her legs, to the peaks of her nipples and the flush in her cheeks. All throughout her the magic sank, and only then, with both their bodies fully penetrated, did the song finally reach its end.

Gem and Lizzie collapsed limply into the flower petals, breathing raggedly and neither able to focus their gazes. Gem fumbled blindly outwards, her hand reaching Lizzie’s by sheer luck, and the two clasped as their bodies desperately sucked in air.

Awareness returned slowly. The candles were all burned low, wax melted off whatever shallow dishes they were set in, or sometimes just flowing out directly into the grass. The fire was once again low and flickering. Gem was naked and sweaty and cold.

She groaned. She sat up slowly, feeling out her muscles carefully. Didn’t seem like she’d pulled anything.

“Lizzie, get up or I’m gonna eat the whole thing myself,” she muttered, stretching slowly from side to side, shivering now that she was aware of it.

Lizzie gave a groan of her own. “Not if I get there first you won’t.”

The two staggered to their feet like fumbling fawns and descended upon what remained of the stewpot, its outside blackened and charred to a crisp from the ritual but the insides soft and gooey and perfect. They ate with their hands, shoveling soft pumpkin and leftover stew into their mouths with a fevered hunger that lingered from the dance, each heedless of how it smeared around their mouths and cheeks and noses, each up to their elbows in pumpkin guts and blackened ash.

Only once the pumpkin was entirely demolished did their senses return to them, genuinely in full.

“Okay, I know it’s traditional to wash off in the river, but it is too cold for that! Lizzie, I’m stealing your shower first.”

“It’s my shower!” she whined.

“Well I won, so there!”

Cleaned up and redressed, the two collapsed into Lizzie’s bed together, exhaustion hitting them along with the late hour.

“Mhnmhng, that should… probably last us a few months, don’t you think?” Gem mumbled as they laid together in the dark.

“Maybe. I kind of have some things I want to try out that are heavy on the magic cost, so I might need to insist on doing it again next full moon.”

“You’re runnin’ me through the wringer here Lizzie,” Gem deadpanned, earning a small giggle from her companion.

“Oh, you love it.”

Gem huffed, and in lieu of answering merely snuggled Lizzie closer.

[aeoki]

SS Finals - Epilogue 1

Location: ES Dome White Team Stage Characters: Yuzuru & Eichi

Eichi: And with that, it seems “Gatekeeper” has retreated and gone back overseas.

Yuzuru: Hmm. It felt as if it was over too soon. Can that information really be trusted?

Eichi: You’ve gotten more distrustful, Yuzuru.

Yuzuru: That’s information from Nagisa Ran-sama, correct? He’s the one who kidnapped the Young Master as some lie or joke…

No. I cannot trust the person who decided to use the Young Master in the conspiracy theory he decided to spread himself.

Eichi: That’s not a nice way to put it. Nagisa-kun “protected” Touri.

Just like how “Gatekeeper” protected Anzu-chan during the Qualifying Rounds.

Yuzuru: So you’re saying not only did he protect the Young Master out of goodwill, but he also held him hostage, right?

If we betray him on the off chance, then the hostage would be hurt. If he threatened us that way, then we would have no choice but to stay put.

Eichi: In Anzu-chan’s case, it was a painful decision for me.

Because “Gatekeeper” had obtained the position of the leader of the “SS” Administration Committee in the very beginning.

He brazenly seized the “P-Association” and captured Anzu-chan like a bird in a cage before I noticed his presence and tried to do something.

I simply went to work and attended a meeting like any other day, only to discover that a mafia was waiting for me – It must have been a disaster for Anzu-chan as well.

Yuzuru: Hmm, after that, you belatedly noticed what was going on, negotiated with him and made him guarantee Anzu-chan’s safety, I see.

Eichi: Yeah. It seems “Gatekeeper” was rather fond of Anzu-chan.

It’s possible that he would have treated her well even if I didn’t do anything, though.

Did you hear? Apparently, “Gatekeeper” left Anzu-chan his card with a large amount of money in it and left the country.

I don’t think he did that as an apology for all the trouble he had caused, though.

Of course, Anzu-chan handed it to me saying she didn’t feel comfortable being in possession of so much money.

She said I’d know how to use it.

I gratefully accepted. I placed it in my bank account, turned it into clean money and I’m thinking of returning it to the other ES idols.

Money is still money no matter how dirty it is. I’ll make good use of the New Year’s gift from “Gatekeeper”.

Hehe. “Gatekeeper” must have been so fond of Anzu-chan that he had no qualms about letting her have that much money.

Maybe he liked that rebellious attitude of her’s – Those sorts of people are rare when you reach such a high position, after all.

Yuzuru: You also enjoy a good challenge, don’t you, Eichi-sama?

Eichi: Nope. I simply enjoy devouring the opponent who does everything in their power to challenge me. That’s how I grow stronger.

In reality, “Gatekeeper” is an unprecedented and formidable enemy that has granted me a lot of things fitting for someone in that position.

I won’t thank him, but I’ll make good use of the experience and turn it into something meaningful.

I’m sure it will take a long time for the others who were threatened to think this way, but…

The malice and violence the mafia has left behind in the form of claw marks is large indeed.

But we must heal those wounds and move onwards and onwards.

Fortunately, the disaster has passed in the most reasonable way. All that’s left is to work hard for the revival and prosperity of the future.

I’ve already begun those preparations. “SANCTUARY” was the model, but the seeds have been scattered all over the country through “SS”.

All that’s left to do is to give it plenty of water, nutrients and sunlight until the flowers bloom – while we get rid of the pests or disasters weakening the soil.

Yuzuru: Right. It was indeed quite a disaster this time. I didn’t know what was going on in the big picture at all.

Eichi: Hehe. I’m no god either, so it’s not as though I also understand everything.

In short, the whole chain of events this time was a feud between “Gatekeeper” and “Priest”.

Between “Gatekeeper”, a mafia member from overseas, and the so-called “Priest”, who is the root of evil in the entertainment industry.

We idols were simply caught up between a great battle of evil between two large monsters.

I assume the first one to make a move was “Priest”. He tried to obtain the idol industry that grew enormously after ES was established.

He supported the bigshots of the industry, controlled the ES higher-ups from the shadows and distorted this year’s “SS”. All because that would work best in his favour.

He’ll gain a large profit while dominating the entire country through “SS” and making everyone excited for the event. At the same time, he’ll let the idols that would be a benefit to him through to the Finals.

He’ll then approach those idols and turn them into his pawns.

No, he originally had plans to let the idols who he thought he could control like a puppet advance to the Finals.

Yuzuru: Well, putting aside what was best for this “Priest”, we’re unable to read the room and are impossible to control, and yet we also advanced to the Finals.

Eichi: Yeah. I bet “Priest” must have been at quite a loss. All of the fruit he could harvest whenever he wanted turned out to be poisonous apples when touched.

Yuzuru: Strictly speaking, I don’t think it was all of them.

The obedient idols who listen to their superiors, in other words, idols that “Priest” would have no difficulty controlling, such as “ALKALOID” or “Ra*bits”, also made it to the Finals.

Eichi: But even so, “Priest” couldn’t touch them.

Because there was a storm that was raging by the name of “Gatekeeper” on the fields “Priest” went through the trouble of tilling.

The wicked “Priest” is a thief who had laid his eyes on a fruit tree called the idol industry that had been growing healthily, and planned on stealing those fruits.

He used methods fitting for a mafia, such as blackmail, and made an attempt to squeeze out the fruit juice from the idols.

He tried to exploit them using threats and making them present profits to him.

At the very least, that’s what I think “Gatekeeper” intended on doing in the beginning.

If there’s someone producing such a large profit, then they’ll be targeted by the inhabitants of the underworld.

Unfortunately, that’s something that happens all too often. I, too, thought that was how it worked at first.

But for “Gatekeeper”, it seems dragging “Priest” out and finishing him off had higher priority.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[prince-honeypaw]

Hello hello you shall never guess who it is <3

I am sneaking in the back window and infiltrating your inbox to request some regressor!Giran headcanons, if that is okay? Something something the broker is always there to take care of things for the League, but who takes care of the broker? They are breaking into his place to say hello Compress needs a new arm again after that last fight this one is busted, but it's hard to do business when you're baby...or you know, wherever you see fit to take it, you know what you're doing. Please, I've had naught but crumbs and am withering away without any good good Honey food of my boy! 🌙

♡ Anything for you, dear! I decided to do some basic headcanons since I've never really gotten to explore Giran as a regressor, so I hope this will sate you! Please enjoy!

♡ It's already difficult for villain aligned and older regressors to find time to go down, but try being both at the same time! Not only that, but Kagero's regression is a rather recent development in his life. Sure, he isn't totally in the dark about it, having experienced Dabi and Jin in their own drops, but it wasn't something he really saw for himself as he felt that it was just... Out of his age range. That he was too old for it.

♡ Little does he know that no one is immune to the all encompassing warmth of regression once it latches on, and the seeds had already been planted! From Ken gently explaining that she thought he was a regressor because he has such a fondness for cute, but tacky trinkets and the like, to Jin being insistent on only wanting to play with Kagero when he feels small, it's practically inevitable that regression starts to gently saturate his life.

♡ At first he only really grazed over a wobbly sort of middlespace on occasion, which was not ideal when he was out and about. Sometimes you're an adult with adult money that you can do with as you please and then the next minute you're in a Build-A-Bear using your adult credit card to pay for a Pawsome Pink Bunny named Tulip. This is not a one time thing, despite him wishing it was; He ends up coming home with pacifiers, bottles, hot pink leopard print blankets, more stuffed rabbits, plush slippers- Whatever that little voice in the back of his mind wants he typically ends up getting.

♡ It isn't until after the incident at Deika City that he really and truly regresses. No middling, no slipping, just a full and proper drop as soon as there's no more risks to his life to worry about. And he drops extremely low! Two or three at the highest and infancy at the lowest- Not what he expected, but it's the cards he was dealt. After losing five entire fingers, it's reasonable to assume that he doesn't want to be anywhere near the MLA for an extended period of time, so Jin and Himiko follow after to make sure that he's cared for! ... Despite their own wounds.

♡ But, honestly? He doesn't tell them not to. Kagero is in a new, small, and vulnerable mindset that is genuinely frightening to him! He's scared to be alone, so Jin won't let him be alone. And where Jin goes, Himiko follows! And she follows with direct access to the Detnerat CEO's bank account that will be used to spoil the baby. "Five figures for five fingers seems fair to me!" She'd said while one of Jin's clones stole Trumpet's van to take Kagero home.

♡ It doesn't take Jin and Himiko long to figure out what's up with their broker during that car ride. What with them both having their own experiences with regression, they peg him as a baby pretty quickly and adjust their attitudes accordingly! ... Somewhat. They try their best, but they're very high energy individuals that are hit by that new baby high! Poor thing still cries over the intense energy they bring to the table so they're quick to scramble over themselves to fix it.

♡ Turns out that Kagero is very much a vibes only sort of baby! If the vibes don't match with how he's feeling, the only solution is to cry about them. He's also a shapes and colors baby, sitting on his bedroom floor with Tulip clutched in his good hand, mesmerized by the tacky fabrics and textiles in his closet while Jin and Himiko try to hunt down pajamas that are appropriate for a baby. Toga opts to simply Purchase clothes, being pretty trigger-happy with the company card in her little gremlin claws.

♡ Kagero's place was a total wreck when they got there, but it didn't stay that way for long! Jin felt responsible for Kagero and the state he was in, he was the whole reason Jin had somewhere that he felt like he actually belonged! So, using his recently reawakened abilities, Jin made it his personal mission to fix (or steal) anything that had been broken. The bathroom, living room, and kitchen had been the first to be brought back to a livable condition, which meant that it was safe for Kagero to finally have a well deserved bath while Himiko skittered around his kitchen like some sort of creature.

♡ Trying to wash off roughly a week or so's worth of blood and grime off of an injured infant is not an easy task which is why it takes three clones and grilled cheese-NO crusts!-bribery to achieve a clean and fluffy Kagero.

♡ Himiko has spent roughly five hundred dollars on clothes alone for this boy and she refuses to explain how. She simply says that a baby needs cute clothes that make them feel cute or what's the gosh darn point of it all! She has also purchased a myriad of adorable bunny Calico Critters that gains an appreciative croon from Kagero!

♡ The night is spent with old Disney movies on the TV, grilled cheese, and online shopping in the pillow fort that Jin and Himiko made... After trying to beat each other to death with pillows.

♡ Kagero has no interest in joining as soon as his pacifier is broken out. He has no taste for bedding based warfare, but he does have a taste for chewing and gnawing and sucking whatever is in reach, so the pacifier was an absolute necessity.

♡ When they finally built their ramshackle little fort and peruse a few online stores, (with Toga purchasing anything that even got the slightest reaction from the baby), Himiko scrambles off to the kitchen to show what she had been doing. She'd managed to find the bottles that he'd hidden away in the back of his cabinets and used one of them to make strawberry milk!

♡ With how low he'd been kept throughout the night, there's little fuss from Kagero when she holds the bottle for him, the sharp little manicure she'd pampered herself with scratching against his scalp and Jin's sturdy body settled up against his side.

♡ He wonders how he ever came to earn such a devoted friend in Jin and, by association, Himiko, but in that moment, the world felt just a little bit safer and a little bit kinder.

[wispwhispers]

Landscapes with Attitude: A Guide to Game Biome Design in Yoniversia

Gather 'Round, Folks! So, me and my kiddos, not to forget my better half, have been cookin' up somethin' real special for over a year now. Yep, you guessed it - we're in the game makin' business! Picture this: a multiplayer, wide-open world game mixin' survival with a dash of good ol' farming. And hey, don't you worry, it's all kid-friendly, spreadin' the gospel of livin' in harmony with nature and keepin' the rough stuff at bay.

Now, here's the kicker: we're all about makin' things look real pretty. Think eye-poppin' visuals, explorin' like it's a grand adventure, and puttin' together the coolest crafts since kindergarten. So, what's the scoop? We're spillin' some beans on what's cookin' in the game pot, and we're all ears for your two cents. Bring on the wisdom, the tips, and if you got any constructive criticism, don't be shy! Let's make this game as awesome as a double rainbow after a summer storm!

Listen up, folks, 'cause we've got a world split into these here biomes, each packin' their own set of fancy game tricks, a bunch of goodies, critters big and small, landscapes that'll make your jaw drop, and a whole heap of gameplay twists. But hold on to your hats 'cause that's not all - these spots are all woven into one big tale with levels of tricky that'll keep you guessing.

Blossom Hollow

First off, let's take a stroll through Blossom Hollow. Yep, you heard me right, it's like a crater from a volcano that had its heyday. But guess what? It's turned into a flower-packed paradise. Now, ain't that somethin'? These ain't just your regular old flowers, mind you. These babies are giant, like 'bout-to-take-over-the-world giant. And they've got this nifty trick up their petals - they give life and, believe it or not, immortality. And guess where our hero pops up? Right smack dab in the middle of one of those massive blooms. Ain't life a bloomin' surprise?

Now, let me tell y'all 'bout Blossom Hollow's guardian angel, a little chit-chattin' raccoon named Eric. This critter's got a bigger ego than a rooster at sunrise, callin' himself the grand poobah, the head honcho, the numero uno of the Scout Squad. Yep, he's the proud founder, the heart and soul, the one and only member of the Guardians of the Garden Club. This guy, he's got a heart as big as his bravado, takin' care of this flowery haven like it's his own.

But hold onto your hats 'cause there's trouble brewin'. Lately, some giant thorny bad boys decided to crash the party. They're like the rude neighbors that move in next door and trash the place. Yep, you guessed it, these prickly fellas are takin' over the joint, givin' the local flora a run for their money.

Heartlands

Alright, now let's mosey on over to the Heartlands, also known as the Central Plains. Picture this: it's like the world's biggest backyard, smack dab in the middle. These open, flat lands are the safest spot in the entire world - we're talkin' secure like a bank vault. Now ain't that a cozy thought?

Here, you'll find all sorts of peace-lovin' critters, just chillin' out and waitin' to be your new best friend. Yep, you heard me, they're all ready for a little taming action.

Now, pay attention, 'cause if you've got dreams of runnin' your own farm, this here's your ticket to paradise. It's like a starter pack for all you future farmers. Easy access to anywhere, thanks to its prime location, and ain't it just perfect for gettin' your hands dirty and plantin' those seeds? Trees are like rare gems, grass taller than your uncle's stories, and hills? Well, they're just scattered around like small talk at a family reunion. Not to mention, a couple of big rivers flowin' through these parts. So saddle up, partner, 'cause the Heartlands are callin' your name!

Bramblewood

Now, gather 'round, 'cause I've got a tale to spin about a forest that's been around since Merlin was a schoolboy. We're talkin' ancient, folks, with magic drippin' off its branches like honey from a comb. Imagine this: thickets so dense they make a haystack look like a lace doily. And hey, there's no shortage of babbling brooks with their fancy fringes, addin' a touch of class to the place.

But here's where it gets juicy - inside this fantastical forest, the secret trails are like a riddle wrapped in a mystery, smothered in thorns. Those prickly bushes hide critters meaner than a rattlesnake with a toothache, just waitin' to pounce on unsuspecting wanderers. You might be strolling, hummin' a tune, and bam! Nature's surprise party comes callin' with teeth and claws.

But hold on tight, 'cause there's a twist in this twist. Hidden deep within these thorny thickets, treasures glint brighter than your Aunt Mabel's prized crystal and artifacts as magical as Uncle Joe's tall tales after a couple of whiskeys. Now, before you waltz into this mystical maze, better pack a mean axe 'cause this place ain't for the faint-hearted. So gear up, sharpen your wits, and let's see if you've got what it takes to face the enchantment of Bramblewood!

"Stonevault Plateau - Where Even the Rocks Are Feeling Airborne

Hold on to your broomsticks, 'cause we're talking about a place where walking just won't cut it. You'll need a dash of flight magic, a sprinkle of water-walking, or a good ol' fashioned aquatic pal to get around this joint.

Now picture this: a plateau that's as stony as your grandpa's one-liners, peppered with all sorts of natural karst bathtubs. It's like Mother Nature decided to treat herself to a spa day and left the tubs behind. But that's not all - the land's like a patchwork quilt of stone, blending seamlessly with nooks, crannies, and secret hidey-holes. And in this one-of-a-kind spot, you'll find creatures that pack a punch, meaner than a bull in a china shop.

Now, let's get practical, 'cause to navigate this wonderland, you'll need some real finesse in the jumping department, or maybe even a smidge of high-level magic to boot. Yeah, you heard me right - all those hours spent leaping over mushroom platforms in your younger days might finally pay off. But here's the kicker, amidst all the danger, this place is like a treasure chest. Rich in resources, and hiding some of the mightiest magic artifacts you've ever seen. So strap on your flight goggles, grab your water wings, or hitch a ride on a trusty swim buddy, 'cause Stonevault Plateau ain't for the faint-hearted, but it sure ain't no dry spell either!"

Coral Shores - Where Sand Meets Secrets

Let me spin you a tale of a sprawling sandy shore, my friends. Once upon a time, this very spot was the ocean's floor, but as time danced on, the waves pulled back their curtain, revealing massive caves sculpted by coral and polyps.

Now, let's talk monsters, and no, I ain't talkin' 'bout your nosy neighbor. Every now and then, colossal creatures come ashore, and trust me, takin' 'em on solo is like tryin' to outdance a tornado. If you're aiming for victory, it's time to call in the reinforcements - that's right, rally your buddies, 'cause teamwork makes the dream work.

But hold onto your controllers, folks, 'cause there's more magic brewin'. These are just a sneak peek of the stops on our game's world tour, and let me tell ya, there's a whole buffet of excitement waitin' ahead. We're ready for your wisdom, your feedback, and if you got any advice to sling our way, bring it on!

P.S. Keep your eyes peeled for the next post, where I'm slicing off the promo bits and diving straight into that "first view" of gameplay. Get ready, 'cause it's gonna be a ride through the basics of game design and balancing that's gonna make your joystick jiggle!

[jptamvada]

Can India become a Vishwaguru?

Reprinted from The Perfect Voice, 16 August 2024 (in print); 21 August 2024 (online)

While attending an academic conference and staying near the very place where Swami Vivekananda addressed the World Parliament of Religions in Chicago, I was tempted to quote lines from his famous speech in 1893 that highlighted the magnificence of Hindu thought:

“I am proud to belong to a religion which has taught the world both tolerance and universal acceptance. We believe not only in universal toleration, but we accept all religions as true. I am proud to belong to a nation which has sheltered the persecuted and the refugees of all religions and all nations of the earth.

I will quote to you, brethren, a few lines from a hymn that I remember to have repeated from my earliest boyhood, which is every day repeated by millions of human beings: ‘As the different streams having their sources in different paths which men take through different tendencies, various though they appear, crooked or straight, all lead to Thee.’”

Swamiji’s clarion call in his speech to end “all uncharitable feelings between persons wending their way to the same goal” presents a new basis for the social, political, and economic transformation of the world. Going beyond the divisions of power, wealth, or religion, we need new thinking to create inclusive models of socio-economic progress that will see nations cooperate in the fields of education, entrepreneurship, technology, and sustainability to empower humanity to flourish collectively. In practice, this will reflect in the cessation of all wars, bringing back fairness in our collective conscience and demonstrating a willingness to share know-how to enable all humanity to progress. But how can such a goal be achieved? India can play an instrumental role by initiating new partnerships in the field of education around the world. Ancient Indian knowledge, with its emphasis on the oneness of spirit and value-based learning, can transform students’ formative attitudes in schools and colleges leading to a new generation of responsible global citizens and leaders. It can inspire inclusive policy-making in countries around the world, as it has done in India. For instance, by banking the unbanked and aiming to provide healthcare, food, and energy security to all households, India is implementing its age-old wisdom to take everyone forward.

Through initiatives such as the International Solar Alliance, International Yoga Day, start-up support, vaccine diplomacy, and presenting the G20 with the theme “Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam” (the world is one family), India has emphasised the principles of shared prosperity that define its global leadership.

India offers a glimmer of hope to a world torn apart by terrorism, exploitation, inequality, and racism because the spirit of love, acceptance, and tolerance, gushing through its arteries and veins, is ever reinforced by the belief in the oneness of God in its heart as Swamiji said in Chicago. The time has come for this unique message to reverberate worldwide, having within itself precious seeds of universal brotherhood, peace, and progress. And India is uniquely placed as the Vishwaguru with the moral authority to deliver it emphatically.

[krackerz1]

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[delightful-to-be-read]

A whole lot has gone on and work has been hell but I escaped for the first May bank holiday weekend and read a lot of books. Too many to review but maybe enough to cross some off.

- The Family Upstairs

- The Family Remains

- The Night She Disappeared

All Lisa Jewell, all 4 stars, all high quality thrillers.

Peter Darling - Austin Chant

The Lost Boy - Christina Henry

I'm obsessed with Peter Pan. I read the book in my early twenties and even my little brother remembers what I had to say about it. It takes such a casual attitude to the murder of children (not just children). I would challenge anyone to find a more startling example of children’s literature.

The Phantom Tollbooth

Howl's Moving Castle - I read this in response to Studio Ghibli popping up in the West End and lots of friends going to see Spirited Away. They told me about earlier Ghibli films but I wanted to read and re-watch first. I loved it as much as thr film, in quite a different way.

The Space Between Us - Doug Jone

It's always great when genre fiction is well appreciated. This is a really excellent, gentle piece of sci-fi.

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

I recommend it as a thriller. It twists and turns and there were times the twists were fully seeded but I didn't catch on (the best kind).

[ericleo108]

Westside Connection

05/03/2024 Click here for Spotify, Apple Music, or Youtube. “Westside Connection” is my 76th official release and my 116th track published. This 6-track EP features Kokane from the Alcoholics, Tash from the dirty ogs, Xzibit, and Kxng Crooked. This is intellectual music with a hardcore vibe and a west coast sound that pays homage to west coasts legends like Dr. Dre along with conscious bars along side of some of the regions top mcees. It’s more than an album, it a connection, and it not just any connection, it’s a westside connection. The beats and features are all from Anno Domini. The entire project was produced by Keyano and the cover art is by Gigzlogo from Fiverr.

I talk about this blog post and other updates in the latest Sunday update here:

I actually really like “Symphonies.” I took the liberty of explaining why I haven’t made it yet in “hot fire.” I assume the position of and alcoholic and I show you whats important at the end.

Project overgrowth was a domestic civilian disobedience campaign that got started in chat rooms in the 1990s. The government had outlawed marijuana to such a degree that even having it on your land could land you in prison for decades. The problem and advantage is the plant is everywhere, and grows like a weed. So the project was to tell people to take marijuana seeds and plant them everywhere, especially in public parks until there is an overgrowth.

I did a word of the day rhyme for months. I wanna say 7 months, without looking. It doesn’t create enough attention and I don’t have the money or willpower to really make it have that wow factor. I want it to be fun and if I have to worry about all the technical aspects its not fun. Anyways, it’s my aspiration to achieve and like I said in my top 10 that I publish ever year on the blog, to work with Dr. Dre is the ultimate dream.

Lyrics

Afterlife

(Xzibit’s verse)

Forever ever we rock the mic

Even when we’re dead the real will Rise

Like that zombie shit

That Jesus did

My music resurrects the feelin given

That self-determination

And inventive creation

Derivation

And attitude that’s audacious 

X and I are legends

Next level like the episode

On the metronome

We flex on um, impeccable

The way we rhyme, it’s on a pedestal

These pussies are, delectable

My rise to the top is inevitable

Cuz I’m the shit, colorectal flow

From west coast to midwest

We have the most fun

They flex, but we test

And show them up

When you see me playa, just roll up a blunt

And we can reminisce about all songs we’ve done

Show you, how i did it all for the love

And bring this energy to the industry and build up my buzz 

So there’s one thing that I seek

I need you listening to my symphonies

What you know about a fan base

Or all the hate you can take

Or all the waves you can break

When you surfing the music sample bank

It’s my destiny, to rock these beats

I be standing on my own two bringing that heat

That fire, to light the blunt

I’m looking at Xzibit like pass the Dutch 

Alcohol and bud, I’m just tryna amass a buzz

They dissuade and front, while I rage and stunt

We fresh bud, you distillate carts 

Been real from the start, and an ace, word to cards

This shit hear not for the faint of heart

Soon I’ll be meticulously arhythmically climbing the charts

What goes up, must come down

Unless you escape Earth’s gravity and your outer space-bound

Shh, you won’t hear a sound 

As I transcend and descend on you and come for the crown

From west coast to midwest

We have the most fun

They flex, but we test

And show them up

When you see me playa Just roll up a blunt

And we can reminisce about all songs I have done

Show you that I do it for the love

And bring this energy to the industry and build up my buzz 

So there’s just one thing that I seek 

I need you listening to my symphonies

Hot Fire

I was putting in work

While you were getting worked on

I’m a hundred percent independent dawg

I own my own masters and control my songs

They trust in me because my word is bond 

Bang this in the east

Bang this in the west

Turn up the base and make it sweat

Hot fire, on the deck

I bring the heat, til she wet and vexed

I ain’t in a gang but damn I bang

These lyrics are a verbal assault that I slang

You should be offended by what I have to say

They like my evil, sinister accolades 

Sit and Stu in your hate, cuz I do what you can’t

I’m here to piss the world off and take some names

Of these wack Mcees that think they’re great

Cuz they can’t compare to what I’ve made 

I was putting in work

While you were getting worked on

I’m a hundred percent independent dawg

I own my own masters and control my songs

They trust in me because my word is bond 

Bang this in the east

Bang this in the west

Turn up the base and make it sweat

Hot fire, on the deck

I bring the heat, til she wet and vexed

I been grinding for years, without reward

I’ve made less and spent more than that job of yours

Tryna build an audience to go on tour

But the algorithm not interested in promoting my store

Success in the industry is more about

Who you know, not the songs you put out

How much you have to invest Is basically clout

Cuz you can pay for the promotion that plays you loud

In hip-hop, hard work doesn’t pay off

Unless you have an audience and can rock a crowd 

If you don’t agree then tell me how

When the room is empty that plays your sound

But This flow so retro like you got it on your iPod

I wanna get that money like a reticulating python

Real real long, like pics from a Nikon 

It’ll be forever Until I die like Rit or Dylon

I was putting in work

While you were getting worked on

I’m a hundred percent independent dawg

I own my own masters and control my songs

They trust in me because my word is bond 

Bang this in the east

Bang this in the west

Turn up the base and make it sweat

Hot fire, on the deck

I bring the heat, til she wet and vexed

Happy Hour

(Hook)

We drinkin beers, takin shots

As you’re sippin suds, let your body rock 

Weather in the cut, club or spot

Alcohol is what you got

This really isn’t funny, I have problems

And make them go away by shooting vodka 

My gaba receptors can’t handle the interruption

I’d probably have a seizure if i just drank nothing

So Imma lean back sippin

World Spinnin for my health

We need free healthcare

Before I can afford some help

I spend money on addiction

Not accumulating wealth

As long as a drink in my hand

The problem solves itself

At the bar playin the game “you call it”

At happy hour, 

(Hook)

This the type of music, To tell you how to do it

Because Technically, alcohol is a solution

My therapist said I need healing

But I don’t like sharing

So I drink, till I can’t feel feelings

Tennessee and Kentucky like a country song

That’s Jack and Jim whiskey in my cup

Thought I found a girl to love, and have some fun

Turns out I can’t remember who she was 

You’re not a bad person because you drink

We all got problems, I hope you see

It’s okay to fall apart, relapse, and binge

Tacos fall apart and we still love them

But Cirrhosis of the liver ain’t gon’ develop itself

It needs help, so call me

(Hook)

We drinkin beers taking shots

As your sippin suds, let your body rock 

Weather in the cut, club or spot

Alcohol is what you got

This the type of music, To tell you how to do it

Because Technically, alcohol is a solution

Damn I’m thirsty, I hope they serve me

If not I’m asserting 

Project Project Overgrowth

(Tash Verse)

Puff puff pass and blaze the weed up

From Michigan to Cali go and spread that seed stock

This is Protect Project overgrowth

Go ahead and help it grow

This sound like the dope you roll and smoke

Puff puff pass and blaze the weed up

From Michigan to Cali go and spread that seed stock

This is Protect Project overgrowth

Go ahead and help it grow

This sound like the dope you roll and smoke

Throw those seeds in ditches

Til the weed takes grip and then

Plant them in parks

Undercover at dark

On the side of the road

Or in a box in your home

They call it a weed, so plant it and let it grow

The plan is to overwhelm the government

With marijuana germaneness 

Put in the work to get

An overgrowth of permanence

Blow her back out 

Then she ask for it again like please

All my boys with the bud be like “sheesh”

I do it for the love, and that buzz, capeesh

To bad we can’t make THC outta yeast

Drink a drink that beer

I know you’re thirsty

Celebrate, go shawty, it’s your birthday

Drink a drink that beer

I know you’re thirsty

Celebrate, go shawty, it’s your birthday

God’s plant is calling you to get dirtay

What you need to do 

Is plant weed for Earth Day 

then

Puff puff pass and blaze the weed up

From Michigan to Cali go and spread that seed stock

This Protect Project overgrowth

Go ahead and help it grow

This sound like the dope you roll and smoke

Puff puff pass and blaze the weed up

From Michigan to Cali go and spread that seed stock

This Protect Project overgrowth

Go ahead and help it grow

This sound like the dope you roll and smoke

These cali girls got me pitchin a tent 

At Cocella wishing I was playin a set

Ride down PCH lookin out west

And she’s like “I want you to stay and get wet”

Cuz I do it for my girls

That growing all the herb

Harvest every 10 days when I’m chilling with her

She always horney, and likes to be on top

Feeling trim, and like a lollipop

Break it break it down now

How they gonna find out?

Germinate and spread around

Seeds while in your local town

Then

Drink a drink that beer

I know your thirsty

Celebrate, go shawty, it’s your birthday

Drink a drink that beer

I know your thirsty

Celebrate, go shawty, it’s your birthday

God’s plant is calling you to get dirtay

What you need to do 

Is plant weed for Earth Day

then

Puff puff pass and blaze the weed up

From Michigan to Cali go and spread that seed stock

This Protect Project overgrowth

Go ahead and help it grow

This sound like the dope you roll and smoke

Puff puff pass and blaze the weed up

From Michigan to Cali go and spread that seed stock

This Protect Project overgrowth

Go ahead and help it grow

This sound like the dope you roll and smoke

Aspiration

I’ve made my name, like Dr Dre

I’m a legend from the lane I’ve paved

Edutainment, what you learn today?

Aspiration is the word of the day

Aspiration is about what you aspire to be

A goal that you strive for and try to believe

Obstacles in the way of what you're trying to reach

Is how you dominate adversity and learn to achieve

Failure is natural,

Make up what they lack, envoke

If you don’t have the capital

Put in the work until it’s equitable 

If you have hate in your heart, let it flow

Back into your home and shut the door

Don’t start nothing, it won’t be nothing

Unless it’s your hope

To spread some love at the show

I got that feeling and let ‘em know

Coming real,  is the next episode

I’ve made my name, like dr Dre (still)

I’m a legend From The lane I’ve paved

Edutainment, what you learn today?

Aspiration is the word of the day

Aspiration is about what you aspire to be

A goal that you strive for and try to believe

Obstacles in the way of what you're trying to reach

Is how you dominate adversity and learn to achieve

I need a doctor because I forgot about Dre

But the physician said, it’s nothing but a G thing

What your seeking, is chronic and riesling 

You gotta guilty conscious from the envy you’re feeling

No diggity, I got some California love

All the way from Michigan I’ve been telling them thugs

From the D to LBC is the simplest cuz

That’s the route of the next shipment of bud 

So I roll another blunt and try to focus

On writing dope bars while I’m toke’n

Puffin the leaf often leaves me stolid 

But Dre in my mind saying “make it explosive”

We gotta smoke that weed, some devils spinach

While tracking the lyrics on beat and rhythm

I’m telling you, look before you finish

Let me put some kush up in it

I’ve made my name, like dr Dre (still)

I’m a legend from the lane I’ve paved

Edutainment, what you learn today?

Aspiration is the word of the day

Aspiration is about what you aspire to be

A goal that you strive for and try to believe

Obstacles in the way of what you're trying to reach

Is how you dominate adversity and learn to achieve

What If 

Yo what's happening, it's King Crooked

I dedicate this to all the rappers out there

That's better than the rapper that's on right now

I know it's hard, hold up

I know you wanna make it to the tip-top

But it's difficult to get it in Hip-hop

So you side hustle, bag it in the Zip-Loc

Cause you're too lyrical to go viral on TikTok

Under the radar every time your shit drops

Cause they listening to kidz bop

And you like 'Ah nah... Dog... Y'all really think that shit's hot?!'

How many spitters the top ten got pen drop

Silence of the Lambs there's too many sheep

While you reaching for your dreams there's too many asleep

But you in there deep so you gotta keep going through the pain and the failure

You gotta keep growing

Let me tell you what this shit is about

This rap biz is a math quiz, figure it out

Bigger the problem you solve, the bigger your house

Bigger the cheques and six figure amounts hit your account

If music is your real occupation

This ain't no rap homie this is a consultation

A business conversation about your operation

I see the spot you're chasing like Roc Nation

What if you never meet Jay

You never meet Em'

What of you never meet Dre

You never meet them

You better be ready

You're never overweight to take chances

Then your chances can never be slim

I want you to make it

I know I can make it, I’ll build it up

Put in the work, but still hope for luck

In this philosophy of mine and I’ll tell you what

As long as the sun shines, Imma soak it up

I know I can make it, I’ll build it up

Put in the work, but still hope for luck

In this philosophy of mine and I’ll tell you what

As long as the sun shines, Imma soak it up

I don’t need to be at the tip-top

Just wanna represent hip-hop

Banksy to my Basquiat 

Be like exit through the gift shop

Wanna bump it loud

Make the OGs proud 

Be like he bite me here 

But made it his own sound

I wanna be like Tyrese

Represent and take the lead

Change what you see 

By educating through reach

Work with platinum producers

Teach my audience cool shit

Find a new ways to grove to it

While we’re making the music

Of course I want to meet Dr. Dre

But I’d take Timberland or DJ Quik

I would be honored to lay a rift

See if you’re open, and have the bandwidth

I’ll serve Um up like a sandwich 

Put on Jurmain Dupree as the deli meat

Pharelle as the cheese and spread upon the Mustard seed

Learn some alchemist, Classified, or the Rza

Got that Metro Boomin' Swizz Beats like J Dilla

I know I can make it, I’ll build it up

Put in the work, but still hope for luck

In this philosophy of mine and I’ll tell you what

As long as the sun shines, Imma soak it up

I know I can make it, I’ll build it up

Put in the work, but still hope for luck

In this philosophy of mine and I’ll tell you what

As long as the sun shines, Imma soak it up

It’s hard not to be dark

Damn Crooked brought the art

I think about it all the time

What if my dreams are never realized

What if I never meet Em, What if I never meet Tay

What if I never meet Mary and get carried away

What if I never meet Cary and try to marry her and stay

What if we don’t become us but face rejection all the way

What if I never find love

What if I never become the one

What if I stop putting up money

Cash my chips and say I’m done

But on the real homie, I’ve already made it

I don’t have to work but still can’t pay for it

This all me, I don’t get no help

Don’t have a label or a manager, hell

I don’t have the money, I’m going into debt

Cuz this an investment and it’s going to sell

But what if I never blow up

What is I can never afford a home

What if investing in this rap shit was what’s was really wrong

What if I never get the opportunity to get out on stage

What if they never get to see love your way

What if my meds fail and I find myself harboring

Malcontent for the ones that are starving 

What if my cards are spent

And my chips are in

I’m called and fallen

Come up short and like Van Gogh

I paint it like Bawden 

She gotta know I’m all in

I love her and the thought of it

But what if I never meet Charlotte 

I know I can make it, I’ll build it up

Put in the work, but still hope for luck

In this philosophy of mine and I’ll tell you what

As long as the sun shines, Imma soak it up

I know I can make it, I’ll build it up

Put in the work, but still hope for luck

In this philosophy of mine and I’ll tell you what

As long as the sun shines, Imma soak it up

And I know I’ll make it, cuz I’ll build it up

Put in the work, but still hope for luck

In this philosophy of mine and I’ll tell you what

As long as the sun shines, Imma soak it up

I know I can make it, I’ll build it up

Put in the work, but still hope for luck

In this philosophy of mine and I’ll tell you what

As long as the sun shines, Imma soak it up

All the what-ifs in the world can’t amount to the action you take

[gritandgrace40]

Mustard-Seed Faith in a Mighty God

Computer chips. Viruses. Atoms. By anyone’s standard, they’re not very big. Yet little things can pack a big punch.

Take faith, for instance. According to Jesus in Matthew 17, a mustard-seed amount of faith is enough to move mountains.

Oswald Chambers probes the meaning of faith as the life attitude of the Christian.

Walk With Oswald Chambers

“Faith brings us into right relationship with God and gives God his opportunity. He frequently has to knock the bottom out of our experience to get us into contact with himself.

“God wants you to understand it is a life of faith — ​not a life of sentimental enjoyment of his blessings — ​that pleases him.

“Faith by its very nature must be tried. And the real trial of faith is not that we find it difficult to trust God, but that God’s character has to be clear in our minds so that we remain true to God whatever he may do.

“ ‘Though he slay me,’ announced Job, ‘yet will I hope in him’ (Job 13:15). This is the most sublime utterance of faith in the whole Bible.”

Walk Closer to God

Faith. You can’t see it, hear it or touch it. But neither can you live without it.

Faith requires a commitment. It is pointless to say, “I have faith in the bank,” unless you put your money there.

Likewise, it is meaningless to say, “I have faith in God,” unless you trust in him.

And rest in him.

And relax.

Mustard-seed faith in a mighty God — ​that’s how to see him move a mountain of need in your life.

And that’s how to bear up under trials until he does it!

[steveezekiel]

INVESTMENT 2

12 HE said, “A nobleman was called away to a distant empire to be crowned king and then return.

13 BEFORE he left, he called together ten of his servants and divided among them TEN POUNDS OF SILVER, saying, ‘INVEST THIS FOR ME WHILE I AM GONE.’

14 BUT his people hated him and sent a delegation after him to say, ‘We do not want him to be our king.’

15 “AFTER he was crowned king, he returned and called in the SERVANTS to whom he had GIVEN the MONEY. HE WANTED TO FIND OUT WHAT THEIR PROFITS WERE.

16 THE first servant reported, ‘Master, I INVESTED YOUR MONEY AND MADE TEN TIMES THE ORIGINAL AMOUNT!’

17 “‘WELL DONE!’ the king exclaimed. ‘YOU ARE A GOOD SERVANT. You have been FAITHFUL with the LITTLE I entrusted to you, so you will be GOVERNOR of TEN cities as your REWARD.’

18 “THE next servant reported, ‘Master, I INVESTED YOUR MONEY AND MADE FIVE TIMES THE ORIGINAL AMOUNT.’

19 “‘WELL done!’ the king said. ‘You will be GOVERNOR over FIVE cities.’

20 “BUT the third servant brought back only the ORIGINAL amount of MONEY and said, ‘Master, I HID your MONEY and kept it SAFE.

21 I was afraid because you are a hard man to deal with, TAKING what isn’t yours and HARVESTING crops you didn’t plant.’

22 “‘YOU wicked servant!’ the king roared. ‘Your own words condemn you. If you knew that I’m a hard man who takes what isn’t mine and harvests crops I didn’t plant,

23 WHY didn’t you DEPOSIT my MONEY in the BANK? AT LEAST I COULD HAVE GOTTEN SOME INTEREST ON IT.'

24 “THEN, turning to the others standing nearby, the king ordered, ‘Take the MONEY from this servant, and GIVE it to the one who has TEN POUNDS.’ ”

Luke 19:12-24 (NLT)

• A wise farmer would retain some seeds for replanting, not only hold back some for replanting, but he also would sort out the best seeds to insure a greater Harvest in the next season.

- By so doing, he exercises self discipline to achieve greater prosperity.

- God is not against prosperity! One of the ways God blesses those who are loyal to Him, love Him dearly, and obey His instructions; is through the Blessing of them materially:

"FOR THE EYES OF THE LORD RUN TO AND FRO throughout the whole EARTH, TO SHOW HIMSELF STRONG ON BEHALF OF THOSE WHOSE HEART IS LOYAL TO HIM. In this you have done foolishly...." (2 Chronicles 16:9 NKJV).

1 THEN Abram went up from Egypt, he and his wife and all that he had, and Lot with him, to the South.

2 ABRAM WAS VERY RICH IN LIVESTOCK, IN SILVER, AND IN GOLD."

Genesis 13:1,2 (NKJV)

- If investment and financial Blessings are prohibited, why would Jesus use it as an example and reward for the most diligent servant (Matthew 25:14-30).

- Investment is another part of stewardships, though not more important than Giving.

• Factors for investments

(i) Good Attitudes. If a Christian wants God to entrust greater riches to him or her, such must be found faithful in smaller amounts committed to their hands (Luke 16:10,11).

(ii) To protect against greed and pride, because wealth comes with greed and pride, the best weapon is, having a specific plan for returning the excess to God's Kingdom—sowing it to God's work.

(iii) The danger of greed and self indulgence is drastically reduced, once a commitment has been made to a disciplined lifestyle—regardless of the raise or the available income (I Timothy 6:6).

(iv) There should be a plan to dispose the profit, which is important as the plan to invest the surplus. Many Believers could not handle abundance, only few could!

• Legitimate reasons for Investments.

(i) To further God's work. Investments in landed properties are the ways to preserve and multiply the surplus that has been provided for a later time (Exodus 11:2,3; 35:20-24).

(ii) Family responsibility

- We are to provide for those within our

households (1 Timothy 5:8).

- Provision was never limited to the life span of a father, it extended even after his death, Thus Investment is of paramount importance to leave a legacy for succeeding descendants—generations (Proverbs 6:6-8; 13:22).

• Wrong reasons for Investments.

(i) Greed. It is a desire to continually having more and demanding only the best (1 Timothy 6:9). Greediness or covetousness is considered an idolatry. Having it could affect your relationship with God negatively:

"SO put to death the sinful, earthly things lurking within you. Have nothing to do with sexual immorality, impurity, lust, and evil desires. DON'T BE GREEDY, FOR a GREEDY PERSON IS AN IDOLATER, WORSHIPING THE THINGS OF THIS WORLD" (Colossians 3:5 NLT).

(ii) Envy. It is a desire to achieve, based on observation of other people's success (Psalm 73:3). When you wanted to outdo others, you wanted to prove that you are Richer or more comfortable than others—you are being competitive. That is not in line with the Word of God (2 Corinthians 10:12).

(iii) Pride. This is the desire to be elevated because of material achievements (1 Timothy 6:17). You wanted people to SING your Praises because of what you had. This also would not help your walking with God.

(iv) Ignorance. The following of the counsel of other misguided people, because of lacking in discernment (Proverbs 14:7).

- The results of any of the wrong motives for Investment are; anxiety, frustration, and deadening of spiritual values (Luke 16:13).

• Invest to serve God better

- Once a believer has accepted the purpose of the Investments, which is to serve God better; Then the crucial decision is how much to Invest.

- The decision is based on each individual, which should be made after much prayers.

• What to do before making any decision on Investments.

(i) Before the Investments are made, give to God's work until you know that all the needs or things to be done for Him or others, which are placed in your heart, are satisfactorily done.

(ii) Settle on a level of family living standard, which you have prayerfully planned with God.

a. Excessive spending on the family, being impulsive in spending, can rob you of the surplus fund, and that could affect the Investment plans and cause bad Investments.

b. Each Christian family should talk it out with God, to know and decide on the level which God has planned for them, and stick to it—in spite of available surplus.

(iii) Having done that, you should endeavour to have a plan for the use of your potential surplus.

a. It is important to settle on a plan for the distributing of the profits from the investments, before they arrive.

b. Decide through the help of the Holy Spirit; what portion to be given to God and His Kingdom, the family, and the one to be reinvested (2 Corinthians 9:13).

• The primary purpose of financial abundance is; to use it, in promoting and propagating the work of God's Kingdom.

(i) God would NOT bless without a purpose or reason. He is profit conscious. He wants profit in whatever He invested in: 23 WHY didn’t you DEPOSIT my MONEY in the BANK? AT LEAST I COULD HAVE GOTTEN SOME INTEREST ON IT' " (Luke 19:23 NLT).

(ii) God also is against wastefulness. If you had not used whatever was given to you wisely, He would not increase the Blessings.

a. God wants His children to be prudent in spending, that He might bless them the more.

b. If you do not know how to manage or use the little that is given to you today, you might not be considered for any abundance—promotion and lifting.

(iii) Invest in the Kingdom of God, and also, in the Businesses as you are led by the Holy Spirit.

(iv) Allow God to lead you on whatever to invest in, on every investment, because: "THERE is a PATH before each PERSON THAT SEEMS RIGHT, BUT IT ENDS IN DEATH" (Proverbs 14:12 NLT).

"PEOPLE may make plans in THEIR MINDS, BUT THE LORD DECIDES WHAT THEY WILL DO."

Proverbs 16:9 (New Century Version)

• You can hear from God

- God wants His children to relate with Him on an individual basis, and be able to hear from Him on whatever to do:

"THE true children of God are THOSE WHO LET GOD'S SPIRIT LEAD THEM" (Romans 8:14 New Century Version).

- God speaks generally with those who come to Him through Jesus Christ, and having the Holy Spirit on the inside of them to lead them through: the Word of God, the Bible, which is an inward witness. And spectacularly; through visions, dreams, trances, angelic visitations, and so on.

- God speaks mainly to all His children through the inward witnesses, the thought given by the Holy Spirit living in the inward man, the spirit, of every Believer in Christ Jesus.

- You have a responsibility to develop your perceptiveness, ability to discern—receive whatever message or instruction the Holy Spirit on the inside of you passes across through your recreated human spirit.

- Thus, cultivate the habit of listening to your spirit, also known as heart—not the fleshly heart that pumped and circulated blood in the body.

- The witness you have on the inside of you, is the leading of God to follow (Romans 8:14). God speaks through Thoughts or SANCTIFIED imaginations!

• You will not fail in Jesus' name.

Peace!