#the other is ruakh.

[etruatcaelum]

On Ruakh.

Lux Aeterna, the kingdom Ozma and Salem had built together, was situated in the foothills of what is now the contested border between southern Mistral and the Palash region. Salem fled east after the kingdom’s violent collapse and ultimately came to a vast, arid expanse of grassland known today as the Taiyin Steppe. There, she buried herself: literally found a cave, laid down, and did not move for centuries.

About six hundred years later, a faunus boy called Irem found her. He was thirteen, and he hailed from a nomadic group—a deme—which had recently been decimated by human rivals; Irem had been among the youths captured and enslaved by the raiders, and after two grueling years of mistreatment, he had slain his master, stolen the man’s fastest horse, and escaped into the night.

All he had meant to do was hide in the caves from his pursuers until nightfall. Instead, he found Salem—far from an intimidating figure by then: emaciated and barely conscious, her flesh so fragile after centuries of stillness that it shredded like wet paper at the slightest movement. When Irem looked upon her, it did not occur to him to feel afraid; he felt only pity and profound concern.

He decided to stay with her. Help her, if he could. She did not speak any language he recognized, but when he offered her half of what little food he had, he saw a faint spark of hope catch behind her eyes as she reached out to take it.

The pair stuck together from then on, gradually learning each other’s language and piecing together their respective histories as they roamed the steppe. Salem grew very attached to him; he began to call her mother.

Then, about five years later, they were found by Irem’s old captors. The human warriors did not recognize him as the boy who had once killed one of their own, but they did see an able-bodied young man and a monster; they attacked, intending to slay the witch and capture the youth.

Not a single warrior survived.

After that massacre, they gave those who remained a choice: gather what they could carry and leave unharmed, or stay and live by the rule of Irem and his mother.

Most chose to stay.

Every enslaved person in the deme—whether human or faunus—was immediately freed, and the livestock of those who had owned them was immediately portioned between them. The dead warriors were given proper funeral rites and, with them, the brutal cruelties of the past were to be laid to rest too.

That was the beginning of Ruakh.

Irem would eventually take the name Samandar Khan. Under his rule, the deme grew stronger and swiftly became the dominant power on the steppe—not by conquest, but by brokering peace with grimm hordes and demes alike.

(Of course, it is rather difficult to say no to a khan whose favorite steed is a grimm.)

Ruakh lasted for some three hundred years: a khanate comprising myriad demes of humans and faunus living alongside thousands of grimm hordes, spanning the Taiyin Steppe from the western mountains to the more fertile plains far to the east. Salem never staked a claim of rulership, though she did receive a say in the assemblies to elect new khans. Mostly, she came and went as she pleased, sometimes among grimm and sometimes among people.

Owing to her immortality, her grimmness, her presence in the story of the khanate’s origins, and her reputation as a teacher of magic, Salem gradually came to be regarded as a god. She was mythologized as the Witch-of-the-Wilds, a god of storms and fire, witchcraft and war, death and rebirth—a prominent deity in the Ruakhian pantheon, but far from the only one.

However, nothing lasts forever. West of the mountains and far to the north, the young kingdom of Mistral had been pushing its borders ever further south, and although the mountains had long prohibited conquest of the steppe, the invention of airships opened the eastern frontier to the empire.

In Mistral, in those days, grimm were thought to be demonic spirits who preyed upon humans and infested the bodies of the slain, reanimating them as faunus. When rumors of Ruakh began to flow north, they inspired first panic, then hatred. The steppe was not desirable country, unsuitable as it was for farming and crawling with grimm besides, but that did not matter: terror of the grimm and religious zeal made the only arguments Mistral needed to justify a conquest.

Brutal, ugly warfare followed.

Ruakh held its own for many years, bolstered by the grimm—who were far more numerous than the khanate’s people and the empire’s armies combined—and by Salem’s raw power. The mountains and the vast steppe gave the advantage to the Ruakhian defenders, whose horse archers gained fearsome reputations among the Mistrali infantry.

For a time, it seemed as though the campaign would be forced back in the end.

Then Mistral found a powerful champion of its own in Kawayanagi Asaki, a young man of common birth who claimed to have received the blessings of the gods to put an end to the scourge. He demonstrated awe-inspiring magical powers, and the emperor sent him to the front without hesitation.

It was the first time Salem had seen Ozma in almost one thousand years, and meeting them again on the field of battle in a war of undeserved persecution broke something in her. That day was not the fall of Lux Aeterna all over again: it was far worse.

Ozma had not yet sacrificed their divine gifts—they would do so in their next life—nor found the lamp of knowledge. Asaki possessed the limitless might of ancient magic and nine lives’ worth of mounting desperation burning with the conviction that Salem could be destroyed. Salem, meanwhile, fought for a land and a people she had lived with and loved and learned from for three hundred years.

When they dueled in Lux Aeterna, they had ripped the castle down on top of their own heads and burned each other alive. This time, they met as opposing forces of nature. The mountains shook and the sky rained fire and the earth opened like a great maw to swallow the armies of Mistral whole; but Asaki was the better fighter, and she lost ground slowly but steadily as he advanced with what remained of his force.

So catastrophic was the scale of the battle that by the time Salem managed to kill him at last, the steppe had been utterly destroyed by fire, quakes, and a volcanic eruption.

The surviving Ruakhians were few in number. Although they begged her to stay, fearing what would become of them without her protection, Salem looked upon the charred husk of what had been the happiest time of her life and decided that she could not live among people ever again. Not if this was what Ozma would do if she tried.

But neither could she abandon the few people she had left, so Salem made them an offer: far away, on the other end of the world, she knew of a magical oasis protected by impassable expanses of uninhabited desert. It would be different from the life they had known, but she could take them there, and they could live in safety without her.

Most of them agreed.

And that was the beginning of Vacuo.

In the modern day, Ruakh is a quasi-mythical lost civilization—think in the vein of Atlantis. The Taiyin Steppe is very sparsely inhabited, still torn up and prone to quakes and volcanic activity.

Unlike the very short-lived kingdom of Lux Aeterna, Ruakh endured for hundreds of years; Ozma couldn’t erase it from history, but they did succeed in muddying the waters enough to create widespread uncertainty among historians as to whether the khanate truly existed as described in the sources. (Grimm have foiled every effort to mount archaeological surveys of the region.) The legend of Ruakh a favorite of occultists and conspiracy theorists, and better known to faunus than to humans.

Descendants of the Ruakhian survivors Salem brought to southern Sanus still live in the Vacuan desert, and although their culture has dramatically evolved in the three thousand or so years since, there are traces of Ruakh to be found even now in stories of an ancient journey into the unknown, a paradise promised by the gods and ripped away by human hands, and indomitable will to survive.

[whatlieswithintheorchard]

Happy Pride!!

[Image ID:

Both images are text with a photograph of two hands holding each other, while being bathed in a rainbow light, as if from a window. The text reads: “A Blessing for Pride.

Mekor Ha-hayyim, Source of Life, You have blessed each of us with Your Spirit. In Your Wisdom, you have made each of us a unique treasure. M’ayan Hayyeinu, Wellspring of our Lives, cause us to flow with courage, strength, and compassion to live our stories openly, proudly, and joyfully.

Shekhinah shel Ahavah, Presence of Love, You embrace us with Your Love. May we embrace ourselves, our partners, our lovers, our friends, our children, our dear ones with the power of Your Ahavah Rabbah, Your Unending, Boundless Love.

Ruakh Ha-shalom, Spirit of Peace and Wholeness, open our eyes to the gifts and blessings we offer and receive from each other; open our hearts to welcome each other fully and truly; open our hands to embrace, to support, to lift each other b’geelah, b’reenah, b’shalom, u’v’rei-ut—with joy, with song, with peace, and with deep friendship.

Today, [on this Shabbat], as we celebrate renewal, Pride, and community, let us walk together with strength, compassion, and love.

N’varekh et ma’ayan hayyeinu, t’kadesh u’t’sa’me’akh otanu [Vvet ha-Shabbat]. Amen.

We bless You, Wellspring of our Lives; May You fill us [and Shabbat] with joy and sanctity. Amen.

/End ID]

[avian-misdemeanors]

hey fellow trans Jew, I have something you may like. it's a set of blessings I say over my estrogen every time I inject. I no longer remember where I found them, but I'll share them here for you:

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה אֲדֹנָי אֱלֹהֵינוּ רוּחַ הָעוֹלָם הַמַּעֲבִיר אֶת הָעוֹבְרִים

Barukh Ata Adonai Eloheinu Ruakh Ha-Olam, Ha’Ma’avir et ha’Ovrim.

"Blessed are You, Eternal One, our G-d, Spirit of the Universe, the Transforming One to those who transform."

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה אֲדֹנָי אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם שֶׁעָשָׂנִי בְּצַלְמוֹ וְכִרְצוֹנָה

Barukh Ata Adonai Eloheinu Ruakh Ha-Olam Sh’asani B’tzalmo v’kirtzonah.

"Blessed are You, Eternal One, our G-d, Spirit of the Universe, Who has made me in His image and according to Her will."

you don't have to use them if they don't resonate with you, but I just wanted to share them because reading your post made me so happy for you, and it made me remember the happiness and trans joy I felt the first time I was invited by my mother and sister to light the shabbat candles alongside them.

My transness and my Jewishness are not at odds with one another. They are deeply, inextricably intertwined. They make each other better. Any other trans Jews reading this; I hope you're able to have the same relationship between your transness and your Jewishness.

GUESS WHOSE GONNA PUT ON TEFILLIN FOR THE FIRST TIME IN THE MORNING!!! FUCK YEAH TRANS JOY AND JEWISH JOY

[jp1baker-blog]

#Repost @maluanyahu (@get_repost) ・・・ If many knew better, they'd do better. Many claim to know better but do not show better. Truth is not transfered via emotional rants but is done so humbly via insightful understanding. Only AB #YAHUAH can give True understanding and discernment on matters, and HE also instructs HIS messengers/prophets in the way of giving HIS message. If you become a problem being the deliverer of HIS message then you are a problem to HIM. Many will turn more away from AB #YAHUAH then they bring to HIM simply because arrogance and raging emotion fills and blinds them. They are not filled with AB #YAHUAH'S Ruakh(Spirit) but are not better nor compassionate then the accuser/adversary in which the claim to despise. Humble yourselves and ask AB #YAHUAH to show you how to be a delivery man/woman of HIS Word, understandings and ways, not your own. True Insight is given to those who fear AB #YAHUAH, and one who is truly fearful of AB #YAHUAH does not speak via HIS own feeling but only speaks that in which HE is instructed by AB #YAHUAH. Many have seemingly replaced AB #YAHUAH'S Words/Instructions/Way with those of their own but they claim that they speak for HIM on many matters, including today's. Can an imperfect man/women tell AB #YAHUAH that they will speak for HIM without HIS permission, counsel, or guidance? Can any man or woman speak for AB #YAHUAH not according to HIS Word but according to their own heart? AB #YAHUAH forbid! We must all truly take a step back and humbly ask AB #YAHUAH to mold us into true speakers and representatives for HIM, according to HIS desire before we can truly hope to mold and assist another in moving forward in this walk. Remember that we were all once engulfed in falsehood and worldly tradition but after a process of refinement which was started by AB #YAHUAH look at many of us now. Give others that same opportunity that we all were affording thanks to the kindness and compassion of AB #YAHUAH. Patience.... AB #YAHUAH is always working. Shalum

[etruatcaelum]

TIMELINE & VERSES

NB: Dates come from the Vytali Common Calendar I devised for my canon-divergent fix. I include them here only to give a clear sense of relative time; you don't need to adhere to them and may consider all time-spans to be flexible.

FIRST ERA. [to 5000 B.T.E.] Prehistory.

Little remains from this period: only bones, remnants of crude stone weapons, and cave paintings. However, the defining characteristic of the First Era is also the one of greatest interest to historians and archaeologists: there are no known depictions of grimm dating from this time in Remnant's past.

SECOND ERA. [5000 - 1 B.T.E.] The Dawn of History.

Sometime around five thousand years before the historical period commonly known as Antiquity begins, artistic representations of grimm begin to appear in cave paintings and weapons alike. Humans discover dust, and the discovery of konurgy incites a major technological revolution. Metalworking and agriculture emerge and spread rapidly in Anima and Northern Sanus. The archaeological record suggests that dust was likely a key factor in the steady displacement of fauni communities onto increasingly marginal land throughout this era.

THIRD ERA [1 - 1312 T.E.] Antiquity

As writing systems develop, the earliest states emerge, predominately in southwestern Anima and northeastern Sanus. Civilizations of note include the Osati Kingdom (100-400 TE), the Fusang Empire (140-600 TE), the Perigean Empire (700-1312 TE), and the Ruakhian Khanate (980-1312 TE). The Anemoi Empire, predecessor of what would become known as Mistral by the Fifth Era, rises to prominence in central Anima around 1100 TE.

Lux Aeterna was a free city-state claimed by Salem and Ozma in 314 TE, nestled in the mountainous highlands just south of modern-day Kuchinashi. During their reign, the city's territory expanded southward, well into the Palash region, and soared to become a wealthy powerhouse of trade and military might. It collapsed within months of their violent falling out, in 322 TE. No definitive trace remains in the historical record, but it's mentioned in a number of fragmentary, ancient texts, and it is remembered today as just one of countless quasi-mythical lost civilizations.

The final battle for Ruakh, fought between Salem and Kawayanagi Asaki in 1312 TE, triggers the massive eruption of Mount Atrox that marks the end of this period.

SAECULA NOCTIFERI [1312 - 1701 T.E.] The Great Collapse.

The Eruption of 1312 TE wipes out nearly all civilization in the Palash region, as grimm populations in southern Anima explode and humans and faunus alike are dispersed to the north and west. Within the century, the first evidence of civilization in the Nequam Desert of southern Sanus appears. In Anima, the Anemoi Empire slides into a long period of civil war and social upheaval which ultimately sees the state carved into a loose federation of no less than eight distinct polities—Mistral among them.

Ozma's tenth, eleventh, and twelfth lives—Azar Ištrimuł, Ozias Thonar, Patricius Eternus—spark the myth of the Infinite Man and acquire a cult following known as the Circle between 1400-1700 TE. Azar is the movement's founder; Ozias retrieves the Lamp of Knowledge from the north pole and becomes known as Ozias the Sage; and Patricius creates the maidens before he's slain by a warrior identified in the sources alternately as Andarta or Kultarinta the Bear.

FOURTH ERA [0 - 800 D.E.] The Draconic Age.

The Derkomaic Empire rises in the Maragda Valley, home of what is now Vale. Formal dragon-worship evolves from what remains of the Circle after the death of Patricius Eternus; religious clashes between the Draconite state and other peoples and polities of northern Sanus worsen throughout this period.

Near the end, between 720-800 DE, a robust alliance between the nomadic peoples of the Vitrine Peninsula in northwest Sanus stymies the northward expansion of the Derkomaic empire, prompting a shift in focus toward the south.

FIFTH ERA [801 - 1200 D.E.] The Age of Fire.

Weakened by multiple costly and largely unsuccessful campaigns into the Nequam Desert, the Derkomaic Empire crumbles. Portions of southern territory are reclaimed piecemeal by the Vacuan Kingdom; the rest is rocked by a series of popular uprisings and collapses once and for all in 981 DE. The Valende Republic is born from its ashes: an elective monarchy which never quite escapes its revolutionary origins.

In Anima, Mistral begins a slow but implacable campaign of reunification under the banner of the Empire of the Eight Winds, which lasts 1017-1203 DE.

In 1102 VE, Ozma's twenty-first life, a Vacuan cult leader named Ozzie Mantis, carves the staff out of the Tree of Citir: the purportedly-magical tree at the heart of the Vacuan Oasis. Legend would have it that the tree withered soon after, and the slow ecological devastation that would leave Vacuo vulnerable to conquest by its northern neighbor began. This is, of course, complete nonsense.

SIXTH ERA [1200 - 2400 D.E.] The Early Modern Period.

Worldwide, violent clashes between humans and fauni grow ever more frequent as various human imperial projects force faunuskind to the bitter margins between human territories and grimm-infested wilderness. Popular reforms within the Empire of the Eight Winds abolishes the enslavement of humans, and demand for fauni slaves booms in response. Many of the modern pretexts for the persecution of faunuskind are invented during this time, and older, pernicious myths about fauni luring grimm to prey upon humans are revived.

Between 2329-2341, with the Valende Republic teetering on the brink of another civil war, Azaria of Pinemoor—Ozma's thirty-third life—reforms the Draconite Lucent Church and establishes the Knights of Iliaster in what comes to be known as the Valean Renewal. The old system of elective monarchy is formally discarded in favor of a hereditary system.

SEVENTH ERA [0 - 365 V.E.] The Vytal Era, or the Modern Period.

Imperial Period: 2350 D.E. - 175 V.E. Eight Winds conquers most of Anima; the Kingdom of Vale annexes the Vitrine Peninsula to the northwest and the Marquetry to the northeast.

The Forge Years: 0-26 V.E. Refugees fleeing Vale's conquest of the Marquetry sail northeast to Solitas, where they found the mostly-subterranean colony Tumak. Phadrig Oswald, Ozma's thirty-fourth life, is among them.

Windrose War: 163 - 209 V.E. Cutthroat wars of succession in the Eight Winds leads to the consolidation of the state under the banner of House Mistral.

Panoptine Period: 209 - 274 V.E. Tumak, battered by growing numbers of seafaring and subterranean grimm, is abandoned; the Tumakians move inland and further north, founding Mantle. Abundant burn dust in the area and simple necessity kick off the konurgic revolution, and Mantle bounds to technological prominence on the international stage. Mistral and Mantle form an alliance to jointly annex the last major free city on Anima: Asmaida, known today as Argus.

V: DUSK; FEARFUL HOPE WAS ALL THE WORLD CONTAINED.

Osandrian Reform: 257 - 266 V.E. King Osiander I, Ozma's thirty-seventh life, assumes the throne in his early twenties, enacts extensive political reforms, and passes formal recognition for the sovereignty of the Vacuan Federation—igniting tensions between Vale and Mistral, which had long since supplanted Vale as the major power in the region, and promptly annexes the Vacuan territory.

The Interdiction: 260 - 284 V.E. Brutal repression of non-state-sanctioned art, literature, and music begins in Mantle and the Mistrali territories. Mantle outlaws all expressions of "discordant" emotions. Elah Revontulet leaves Mantle to study the grimm far to the north, eventually in partnership with Salem.

The Marquetry Conflict: 270 - 272 V.E. The indigenous people of the Marquetry revolt against Valean rule, and the Panoptine Bloc sends a liberating force to occupy the contested territory in support of the rebels. Osiander retrieves the Sword of Destruction from the bottom of Lake Matsu less than a year before the Great War erupts.

The Great War: 273 - 283 V.E. The Marquetry Conflict spirals out of control into a devastating global war between the Panoptine Bloc and the newly-formed Sanite Alliance. Osiander's attention for much of the war is divided: he is also desperately seeking the Crown of Choice, and secures it at last early in 283.

The final battle of the Great War is known as the Battle of Burning Sand: Osiander uses both the Crown and the Sword in tandem to lay waste to enemies and allies alike, and all bend the knee to him in the end.

V: POSTWAR; IS IT FOR SUCH I AGITATE MY HEART.

The Vytal Summit: 283 - 284 V.E. Peace negotiations on the Isle of Vytal, north of Sanus, hammer out the terms of what will become the Vytal Accords. The signing of the treaty is celebrated in 284 VE with the first ever Vytal Festival, hosted by the newly-opened Atlas Academy.

The Revitalization: 284 - 314 V.E. With the Panoptine Bloc and the Sanite Alliance dissolved and the Vytal Inter-Governmental League (VIGL) established, rebuilding begins. Early plans for the Cross-Continental Transmit System are drawn up. King Osiander dies of illness in 301 VE.

Catathymic Revolution: 314 - 343 V.E. Dust technology booms; the Mantle-based Schnee Dust Company shoots to global renown with the establishment of Visage in 317. Visage falls in early 334, when Summer Rose is eight years old. The four CCTS masts are built over the huntsman academies between 330-340 VE.

Isaac Ozpin is appointed to the headmaster's office of Beacon Academy following the collapse of Mountain Glenn in 335 VE: he is thirty-two, significantly younger than his predecessor, Headmaster Pascal, and the headmasters of the other three academies. This becomes a minor scandal, provoking unsubstantiated allegations of bribery from then-Deputy Headmaster Simon Myrtle and, in short order, a spate of resignations among the academy's tenured faculty.

Ozpin, although a huntsman of prodigious skill, has never served as anything but an occasional adjunct professor before his appointment; yet despite this inauspicious beginning, he swiftly proves as capable an administrator as a professional huntsman.

V: BEACON; A DUET OF SHADE AND LIGHT.

Atlesian Ascension: 343 V.E. As part of his secret project of sealing the four relics away in vaults under the schools, Ozpin—with assistance from General Ironwood and the Atlas Military’s cybernetics team, PWRCG—uses the staff to raise Atlas into the air above Mantle. Atlas is officially designated the capital, and the kingdom comes to be known as Atlas.

The Faunus Revolution: 343 - 347 V.E. Two months after the Ascension, a fauni revolt in Mistral begins when insurgents calling themselves the Pact capture Redoubt Academy, the combat school in Kuchinashi. This kicks off a five-year conflict which ultimately leads to significant civil rights reforms within the Vytal League, the establishment of the sovereign fauni state of Menagerie, and in 349 VE, the formation of the White Fang.

Team STRQ graduates from Beacon Academy in 346.

The Vigilant Period: 347 - 364 V.E. A time of unprecedented peace. Summer Rose disappears in 351 at age 26, and is finally declared dead in 354. The events of RWBY V1-3 take place between 363 and 364, with the Fall of Beacon occurring in the autumn of 364.

V: FALL; THE MOON HAS NOTHING TO BE SAD ABOUT.

The Grimm Years: 364 - 365 V.E. In the aftermath of Beacon's fall and the destruction of the Vale CCTS mast, the world is thrown into fear and darkness. The events of RWBY V4-8 occur during this time.

V: DAWN; I DO NOT FEAR IT: I HAVE BEEN THERE.

The Last Stand: 365 - 366 VE As the aftershocks of the Fall of Atlas reverberate through the world, human- and faunuskind rally to the defenders of Shade Academy, in Vacuo, the last bastion of the Vytal League and, perhaps, life itself.

Just four weeks later, a lone ship arrives, carrying refugees from Vale with the shocking news that Vale, too, is gone: that Salem set upon the kingdom herself, that there is nothing left, that the tens of thousands of people left behind fled into the caverns beneath Mountain Glenn as the kingdom’s defenses began to collapse.

Certain that Salem’s arrival is imminent, the Vacuan Coalition scrambles to prepare for an overwhelming assault…

…and then they wait, and wait, and wait. Team RWBY and Jaune return from the Ever After a few months after Atlas falls, with no sign of Salem; she will not show until late in 366, her attention having been focused on finding the crown.

The New Dawn: 366 VE & Onward It is the beginning of a new year when the Vacuan Coalition receives a message from Salem herself, and it is not what anyone expects: the survivors left behind in Vale, the tens of thousands of people long since presumed dead, are still alive.

The offer she makes is brutally simple. If the coalition brings the sword of destruction to Beacon Academy and surrenders it into her hands, she will release them all and withdraw her grimm from Vale, leaving the kingdom to rebuild in peace; and if they refuse, every single person trapped under Mountain Glenn will die.

Their choice.

[etruatcaelum]

Her lips twitch when he begins to monologue on the subject of linguistic drift; it is, she thinks wryly, turning out to be quite a night for revealing hidden depths.

Though it does seem to her that Tyrian either overestimates how far a single language can drift in the course of a few centuries or underestimates the mutual intelligibility of different tongues derived from a common ancestor; Salem has lived long enough to witness the evolution of both a thousand times over, and she would like to think she’s kept up quite well, even in exile. Her difficulty has haunted her through all the languages she’s ever known, no matter her fluency.

Still, when she reaches gingerly for words, the only that come to her are Ruakhian, a language no one else but she has spoken for thousands of years, and not even her own. Long-lost history songs, mythic poems of the world’s beginning, memories handed down from one generation to the next—ever-changing yet always the same. (Sometimes, when she’s alone here, she goes wandering on the moor just to sing them to the sky once more.)

She drums her talons against the tabletop, smiling wistfully, and lifts the pen.

There is an old story about the courses of life and death, she writes. That the dead descend into the ocean beneath the world, and those who drink of the black waters there may return to life as grimm; the rest rise to walk the green byways of the world’s skin, ever upward, and those who brave the thorns to join the hunt receive the blessings of the feast—these are the people now called faunus; and all who reach the summit may cross the sea above to return through gates of the moon.

Pensive, Salem rolls the pen between her fingertips and continues: They weren’t farmers, the people who told that story. To take root in one place and grow food from the earth seemed decadent, and fanciful. Where the land could be coaxed to give more than wild grasses—those were sacred places. I do not think that has ever left me.

In a way, gardening has been the only constant in her life since she escaped her father; from the flowers she and Ozma grew to the rebirth of the world and her patient cultivation of things that were good to eat, the half-wild vegetable gardens she’d kept for so long, in so many places, the solarium in Lux Aeterna, those secret little glades dotting the southernmost reaches of Ruakh… this greenhouse.

She likes to make things grow.

(To give life instead of death, for once.)

She frets with the pen for a moment, foundering on an old hesitation: Tyrian had taken one look at her amid the smoldering wreck of that prisoner transport and judged her a god of carnage and brutality, and although she appreciates anyone willing to remain in her presence, she has always felt more cautious of him than the others, warier of failing to perform to expectation.

So in the end, she shies away from the impulse to confess that she would spend all her days quietly tending to the garden if not for the divine hand locked around Remnant’s throat, and writes instead: Your family’s farm. What was it like?

Nudging the journal back toward him, she pats the hand upon her shoulder before she steps away to resume her survey of the garden.

He lets her take all the time she needs to write. In the meantime, a dull, throbbing ache - and the sight of his bundled prosthetic, which Salem had thoughtfully moved to the table (still wrapped, so he wonders if she doesn’t mind her cloak being used in such a way) - reminds him that he needs to do damage control on his poor, neglected tail.

(Not that he hasn’t neglected the rest of himself, either, but a delay in tail-care takes more than some scant hours of sleep or a choked-down piece of rabbit to offset.)

He sweeps his natural tail in front of him - as much of it as he can, anyway. He’ll have to find time later to really check between the plating, and of course must eventually address the harder-to-reach base, but all that will require the privacy of a long bath.

Here and now, though, he can at least assess the damage. Force himself to feel the amputation site, to check some of the points of connection - the little metal screws in his tail that each bear a ��W,’ for Watts truly couldn’t bear to not leave his mark - to smooth his free hand over the rough topside and the smoother but not any less durable underside to check for rough patches or anything that might need to be forced off to regrow -

His tail hurts most where the stinger had been and at the base, although the pulse of pain throughout tells him he’ll have to keep the prosthetic off, for a while.

Well. Watts had warned him. Salem’s latest note, at least, provides a welcome distraction, because it lets Tyrian talk about linguistics.

He could have been a librarian, once.

“Oh, it’s not really a conscious thing we do. I’m sure if someone from the far far far future were to drop into this room right now, he would find this conversation quite indecipherable not necessarily because any of these words have been purposely dropped or retooled but rather because the way they were used had naturally evolved over time with changing societal uses. Why, what to you sounds like a theory of language may to him sound like a passionate diatribe levied against my very own mother. Either that, or he will assume I am speaking in tongues, to which I’ll just start speaking some Old Atlesian sonnets I know, and then won’t he really be scared then! And if you want to break it down into letters and spelling conventions, why-”

It hits him that Salem may have been writing facetiously, and he stops. Awkwardly squeezes her shoulder.

“I- That is. Well. I hope a more natural mode of communication presents itself to you soon. If there’s ever anything my ‘oratorical flair’ can be of use with, I’m happy to assist. Arthur would regularly task me with sitting still and quiet for five minutes so he could work. ‘Still’ seldom made it past two, and ‘quiet’ rarely past four and a half.”

He could do it now, though. Five minutes of silence in exchange for five more minutes with…

“…Your garden is lovely.” There. A subject change. “When I first woke up, I was so delirious I thought I was - in the past.”