#the same can also be said for my writing

[cherryjuicegf]

"Will you forget about it?"

She feels Jaskier's soft breath on her stomach and shivers as his lips curve on her skin. He shoots her a questioning look as though he's too occupied tasting the night off her body to hear her. "Forget about what?"

A sigh.

She closes her eyes for a moment. Swallows the pain down to her heart. It doesn't matter. It's the last night. "This." A twitch of her lips, and she doesn't dare look at him now. Instead, she looks out the open window. "Us. These past months."

At once, Jaskier stops paying all his attention to the poems he is stroking and looks at her, a frown between his eyebrows. He lays his head on her belly, and it's so warm, so heavy with tenderness. What will she do with all this tenderness, all this poetry?

His voice sounds a little hurt as he speaks. "How can I?" Before his certainty has time to echo, Yennefer's tongue turns again to blade, and she laughs.

"You're lying."

"Yennefer..."

"Don't."

Her body is tense under his head, his touch, but he doesn't move, as though insisting on the softness. And his eyes, huge and staring and, oh, the complaint. Did she already forget about the softness?

She keeps her lips from quivering, her voice from trembling. Shakes her head as though pleading. "You don't fool me, bard. We aren't in the keep anymore. You're leaving tomorrow." His hand is lying between her breasts, and she tries to rebuild the wall they had so desperately wrecked. "You will be sleeping around again. Never staying afterwards."

Jaskier is almost out of breath now, out of words, and until now she had never taken pride in stealing his voice with pain, only with pleasure. Something wet on her skin. His lashes brushing against it, she realises. But he can't speak. Not to say anything of importance, at least.

He knows she is right.

And yet he doesn't seem to admit it. A silent chuckle. "You know a thing or two about leaving, don't you?"

He means it as an insult. Still, Yennefer smiles and looks him in the eye, deadly. "As well as you do, bardling, yes."

"Why wouldn't I stay?"

"Because you can't." He parts his lips to speak again, but suddenly, oh, she is so tired. She lets herself slump and lets him look, and the sharpness in her voice breaks. He knows how it's supposed to go. There is no point in arguing over it. "Because I can't. I have somewhere else to be right now." Then, a whisper, a plea. "You know that."

Slowly, she threads her fingers through his hair, and as though she pulls loose a thread, he lets out a breath and closes his eyes. The line between his eyebrows now runs deeper. "I know."

He catches her hand and places a kiss on the inside of her wrist. Then he crawls up to her, up to her lips, like a worshipper who thinks he is forsaken by his god, while he himself has forsaken his faith. He kisses her.

He kisses her.

Then, he hides his face in the curve of her neck and breathes her in. "Can a heart forget a love?"

Can you pass by an empty room without remembering the time it used to be full of life? Does absence grieve for its present or its past?

A sigh, broken. "If it can't afford otherwise."

She feels his smile against her skin, his muffled voice. "You don't really believe that."

The breeze blows in the room, and the curtain shivers like an awakened ghost.

Yennefer shakes her head and softly, almost absent, she places a kiss on his hair. "It doesn't really matter anymore."

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[lotus-pear]

bsd fic authors i understand yalls pain SO well right now why is it so fucking HARD to write dazai. like i have a whole fucking spreadsheet dedicated to tireless analysis i have done on my part so i can accurately characterize him but he is such an unpredictable and morally gray character that it's hard knowing his limits and boundaries and where he draws the line for himself.

[caeslxys]

Something I think is extremely interesting thematically when it comes to connecting what Downfall and the ideas it tackled to the overarching narrative of campaign three is that the things Downfall made a point to showcase of Aeor—Cassida, Hallis, the visual of an aeormaton proposing to her partner, the specific and intentional decision to shed light on a far from insignificant amount of the population being civilians or refugees—is that it plays in perfect parallel across from what is happening (and, really, has been happening) to the ruidusborn on Exandria in present.

Bear with me for a moment. Aeor is ultimately a city that was collectively punished for the decisions of its leadership. We could (and, judging by the amount of discourse around this particular topic already, probably will) argue about what the Gods’ motivation for all of this was—whether it be that they could not, in the end, bear to kill their siblings or that they were terrified at the prospect of mortality—for me it is a very healthy dose of both—but for this I am much more interested in the latter. They were scared. That, really, is the driving force behind both this arc and their role in c3 as a whole.

Why I point this out is: It is far more interesting to me, especially as we go back to Bells Hells this week, to dissect the Gods and their decisions not purely on sympathetic motivation alone but as beings in the highest seat of power in the highest social class in Exandria.

So, having established that the Gods (in relation to mortals) are more a higher social class than anything we could compare to our real life understanding of divinity and that Aeor was eviscerated largely because of their fear—what is the difference between those innocents in Aeor caught in the trappings of their autocratic government leadership and a divine war on the ground, and those of the ruidusborn being manipulated both by Ludinus and by the very thing that inspired such visceral fear in the Gods to start with. I would argue very little.

I think of Cassida, doing what she genuinely thought was right and good and would save people, her son, and the object of her worship—and how that did not matter enough to any of them to spare her because of the fear they held at the very concept of mortality. I think of Liliana and Imogen, one of which we know begged for the gods to help her or send her a sign for years on years, and how every single one of their largest struggles could have been avoided had the gods loved them, their supposed children, as much as they feared what they could be. I think of how the thing that did save Imogen, in the end, was a woman who herself existed in direct defiance of the gods will. I think of that young boy, sixteen years old, that Laudna exalted on Ruidus.

I think it’s completely fair to judge Aeor’s overall society as deeply corrupt—it was!—but its leadership and police force are not a reflection of every one of its citizens. Similarly, it is fair to judge the Ruby Vanguard as corrupt—it is!—but its multiple heads of leadership and even the god-eater further are not a reflection of every one of its members.

Notably, and what I think the Hells will latch onto, this did not matter to the Gods. It did not matter that Cassida was trying to help. She was still too much of a risk. Will it matter, what Imogen does? Will it matter, if that young boy is in the blast radius when they decide to take no further chances?

I’ve seen a lot of people say that the Hells will side with the gods and I don’t think I agree. Especially as Imogen has been scolded and villainized over and over for daring to try and save her mother—who herself has been seen by some as an irredeemable evil in spite of her drive being the exact same—her family—but when it’s the Gods it’s justified? When it’s the Gods, it’s sympathetic? Too sympathetic to criticize further than “they’re family”?

I obviously do not think the Gods should die or be eaten or what have you, and I certainly don’t agree with Ludinus (though I find him much more compelling than just a variation of hubris wizard), but when talking about the Gods in Aeor and in present it isn’t really at all about their motivation or their family. It can’t be. Too many people, including our active protagonists, lives have been effected for it to be as cut and dry as “they’re family”. These are your children. They are your family, too.

[shannonsketches]

Why is the anime so weird, it's not even the same series dude?? It's like,

Anime:

GOKU: I have a great idea to bring peace to the universe, and my leadership and compassion alone will unite us all. I have No Flaws and am A True Relatable Everyman :)

VEGETA: NO! I AM THE BEST AND I WILL CAUSE PROBLEMS UNTIL I AM RECOGNIZED AS SUCH!!!!

Manga:

GOKU: Vegeta what's cornmeal made of? I know it's what the corn eats, but what's it made of? VEGETA: Hey Kakarot let's play the quiet game until one of us dies.

[eightspringdays]

People who infantilize autistic coded characters are the weakest link in society's chain.

How are you gonna look at this mf

And then tell me he's too uwu to do anything. Open your eyes, expand your brain; he thinks of the MCnasty too. Let him say fuck !!!!

[blackhholes]

teen wolf meme: [3/5] motifs -> resurrection

It's different now. I think dying did something to him. It did something to me, too. But none of it was good.

[varpusvaras]

She had been biding her time. Waiting for an opportunity.

It had taken a lot longer than she would've liked. She was more tired now than she would've liked to be, her head was definitely hurting, same as her ears. Her nerves had been grating together for some time now, and she thought that she was ready to punch something. She couldn't, though, because any violence would impede her escape.

Finally, the moment came. One wrong move of a hand. A sharp cry, then another, and then she was left alone. She quickly looked around. There were no eyes on her at the moment, so she quickly stepped back and ducked under the arm of the droid walking past her, and then she was already at the side door. She slipped through it and then ran behind the cabinet. She knew she didn't have much time, but she also knew the pattern of everybody on that side as well. She also knew that some things had been running out in the hall, and there would be replenishes being brought any moment now.

There, servants carrying trays with quick steps. Leia waited until they were just past her, until she wouldn't be in their peripheral vision, and then slid out of her hiding spot, and quickly made her way to the stairs. She kept herself on the left side of them, to make sure that she wasn't visible to the gallery that was halfway down. After she was below it, she had to run the rest of the way down, so no one there would notice her if they looked over the railing.

She jumped over the last step and then ran behind one of the gallery pillars. She didn't stay there long, either, just to check her time. In five minutes, they would serve some hot drinks. Leia was going to miss those a bit, but sacrifices had to be made. She checked her pockets as well, to make sure her spoils were still there.

Then, after one last check of her surroundings, she made her way across the hall and to the next door. She ran through the hallway behind it, and finally made it to the private rooms of the Palace.

It was a lot easier to make her way through their living rooms, compared to the State Rooms. There were a lot less servants there, and she knew all the best hiding spots, if anyone happened to come across her. Then she was already at their bedrooms.

Leia checked her parents' first. He was not there, so that meant that he was most likely in the drawing room at the south side, since it got a lot of sunlight this time of day. She checked her time again. She only had a couple of minutes before the next serving, but it would take some time before anyone would come looking for her here. They would come, though, because they all knew she would be here. But maybe Mama and Papa would give them a moment. Leia already knew that Buir at least wouldn't be messaging them right away.

The door to the drawing room gave a little creak as it opened. Mama always said something about having to get it fixed, but she never did. Papa had explained that it just gave the rooms some character, to have little imperfections. Leia suspected it was so anyone in the room would definitely hear if someone came in.

Buir did, at least. He lifted his head from the book he had been reading even before the door had opened all the way, his eyes locking onto Leia.

"The party is not over yet", he said. It was more of a statement, with no scolding hidden into the words. It was like he had known this would happen, and perhaps he had, as this was not the first time Leia had done this.

Leia didn't answer anything. She just ran across the room to him, and all but collapsed against his legs. He had a light blanket on top of them, as even with the sunlight, the winter days were still chilly, and Leia grabbed the fabric with both of her fists.

She heard Buir put the book away, and then there was a hand at the back of her head, gently brushing her hair.

"What is it?" Buir asked softly. "Leili'ika?"

"I missed you", Leia mumbled against the blanket.

"I missed you too", Buir said. "I'm sure others will be missing you as well, though."

"I already spent time with them there", Leia said, grabbing the blanket tighter. "I wanted to spend time with you, since you're not there."

"I see", Buir said. "Those parties just aren't for me, you know?"

"I know", Leia said. "But you should also be there with us."

So they would have the whole family there, like it should be.

Buir sighed.

"I know", he said. "I wished things would be so easy. But I'm also a bit tired today. The cold is really not agreeing with me, so I wouldn't have enjoyed it for too long either. Especially since there are some faces there I know from my last job. They would've sucked all my will to live out of me in minutes."

Leia couldn't quite bit back a snort. She did feel better, already. Buir just had that effect on her. Of course Mama and Papa did, as well, but Mama and Papa were too busy to handle all those people at the moment.

"I would've punched them in the face", Leia said.

"I know you would've, you've gotten pretty good with your hits lately", Buir said. "You're missing the hot drinks, you know?"

"I know", Leia said. "But we're having some with you too later, right? I can have them then. I wanna sit here with you and have the fire on and look at the mountains and have drinks with you."

She finally lifted her head up to look at Buir, trying to make her eyes as big as possible. It was a weakness of his, and she knew it.

Buir looked at her for a moment, before he sighed again.

"We can have them together later", he said, and smiled a bit. "Whatever am I going to do with you?"

"You can share some finger sweets with me?" Leia offered. She quickly fished the bundles she had made out of napkins out of her pockets. "I picked out all your favorite ones."

Buir laughed.

"You really know your way to your old man's heart, don't you?" He asked.

"Of course I know", Leia smiled. "I am your heart."

"That you are", Buir said, picking out a dusted warmwood nougat. "My little heart."

Leia climbed at the chair next to him, and they sat there in silence for a moment, her leaning against his side, both eating the little sweets. Leia looked at the old chrono on the wall. It was taking everyone a lot of time today to come looking for her, it seemed. She hadn't thought her cousin spilling all his juice drink on his older brother's lap had been that good of a diversion, if she was being completely honest.

"Leili'ika", Buir said. Leia turned to look at him. "I can see that something is bothering you, you know?"

Leia pouted.

"Nothing is bothering me", she said, snuggling closer to him. "I just wanted to see you." That was true, too.

"I believe you", Buir said. "But I also know you. What is it?"

Leia turned to stare at her knees. Buir gave her a long moment.

"Leia-"

"They all look at me", she blurted out. "They all look at me and they know I don't look like Mama and Papa. They all look at me like they're trying to figure me out, like I'm not- like I'm not- like I don't belong here, and I know I don't already, and-"

She sniffed, and angrily wiped her eyes into her sleeve before anything could even gather to them. She was supposed to be over all of this already!

"- and Niano looks more like Papa than I do and he knows it and he knows I know it", she finished. "He keeps rubbing it in all the time. I already know I'm not a real Organa, why does he need to remind me that I'm not a real Prestor either?"

Buir was quiet for a bit after she had finished.

"I'm going to have a word with Celly after", he said. "And before you even think about it, you are not tattling. He is being needlessly rude and cruel to you in a way that I do not appreciate, and I know Bail and Breha and your aunt don't either."

He put his arm around her and held her closer.

"Is that why you came here?" He asked.

Leia nodded.

"I know I don't belong there", she mumbled.

Buir was quiet again for a moment.

"Am I not a real Organa?" He asked.

Leia whipped her head around.

"What?" She asked.

"Am I not a real Organa?" Buir repeated. "Or is your Papa not a real Organa, neither? Neither of us were born with that name. I was born with no name at all."

"Of course you are!" Leia didn't understand what he was talking about. "Of course you are an Organa. You're part of the family, just like-"

"Just like you, yes", Buir nodded. "What makes us an Organa is that we are a family. Blood is not the most important ingredient in the family. I was created from the blood of Jango Fett. Is he my family? The man who called me cattle and cannon fodder? Does me sharing my face with him make me a Fett as well?"

Leia shook her head.

"No", she answered, immediately.

"So, your cousin looking more like your Papa's side of the family does not mean anything either", Buir said. "He can pretend it does, but the only thing him insisting so does is make both him and other people around him miserable, and I don't think that should mean more than how happy you make us. How happy we all make each other."

He looked Leia in the eyes. The sunlight coming from the windows beside them made them look partially golden. Leia had always loved how they looked in the sun.

Wasn't that it?

She pressed her face against her Buir's side.

Yes, it was.

[bookshelfdreams]

do it. gimme the Izzy straight-coded meta 👀

I feel like I need to preface this by saying that Actually, Izzy Is Straightcoded would be the inflammatory clickbait title I'd give this if it were written to draw traffic & ad revenue to my shitty website. So don't take that term too seriously.

There has been a lot of ink spilled about Izzy thinking he's in a story where one can only be subtextually queer. Some even by yours truly, but the more I think about it, the less sense it makes. What would be the purpose of queercoding Izzy?

In general, villains* aren't queercoded to show that men being attracted to other men is bad. It's often the outcome; but it's not why the trope exists. It exists because cishet people tend to be (and are encouraged to be) profoundly uncomfortable with gender nonconformity, and so, making a character gnc becomes a quick and easy way to make him appear twisted and untrustworthy. If he** can't even obey the fundamental rules of his own gender (rules that are inherent and unchangeable!) what other rules does he disobey?

Or: If a man is insufficiently masculine, he can't be trusted to have morals. The villain isn't gnc because that's an evil trait to have; rather, the gender nonconformity is a symptom of his evilness. Being evil is what enables him to embrace his feminine side, and embracing his feminine side is what others him and marks him as a villain.

This only really works when he's contrasted with a hero (or heroine) who is Doing Gender Correctly. The villain is foul to highlight how good the hero is. The Hero will be honest and straightforward, brave, physically powerful; the Queercoded Villain treacherous, cowardly, and physically weak. The hero is a Proper Man, a Good Person. The villain an Improper Man, and therefore, a Bad Person.

Of course ofmd fundamentally rejects this. The shorthand wouldn't work, because ofmd simply doesn't think effeminacy is creepy. It's uninterested in moralizing self-expression; it just lets people be how they are. There's a wide range of expressions of masculinity on this show, and none of it is inherently bad. People are allowed to be hypermasculine, flamboyant, and anything inbetween, can express their gender in whatever manner they want, and it's all fine - as long as they are authentic about it. Be however you are, but be yourself, and this is what Izzy fails at. The repression marks him as a villain. The strict adherence to what he thinks a Real Man Pirate ought to be like. He's very preoccupied with enforcing a traditional (and toxic) masculinity on himself and others. It's no coincidence the characters he antagonizes the most - Stede and Lucius - are also the most effeminate ones. And I know, I know anglophones have a much more casual relationship to twat and cunt, those don't nearly feel as uncomfortable for y'all as they do for me, so I don't want to assign too much significance here, but he is the only character who constantly uses this kind of language, and also the one who uses the most gender&sexuality based slurs (as far as I remember).

All of this while being clearly, obviously queer himself! I do not feel like I need to explain this; his flustered reaction when Lucius asks him if he's ever been sketched speaks for itself. The fact that he meets Stede and immediately slices his shirt off of him, speaks for itself. And so on.

Izzy isn't straightcoded in the sense that the story wants us to believe he's exclusively attracted to women. Much like a queercoded villain doesn't need to be shown to be attracted to men (and can even be shown to be attracted exclusively to women!) to still be queercoded. He's straightcoded in the sense that he's a stand-in for restrictive and toxic gender roles that society enforces on people. He buys into the idea that there's a way of Doing Gender Wrong, and this is presented as a tragic character flaw. Something he has to overcome to be able to do the thing that actually marks a hero in this show: express himself authentically.

Part of why I found his death so moving is because it enables him to set right the toxicity he spread. His rehabilitation arc was about himself; about finally allowing himself to be, accepting love, accepting community. His death was about taking responsibility. About fully recognizing the hurt he caused. Looking death in the face enables him to finally abandon the last shreds of that toxicity, to apologize and be granted forgiveness. In the end, he was not beyond saving, and the harm he has done will be healed.

*Izzy is introduced as an antagonist to both Stede and the central romance of this romcom. I'm not gonna debate this; if you disagree, fine, but you clearly have such a fundamentally wrong different view of the show that it's pointless for us to try and convince each other.

**of course Queercoded Female Villains exist s well, but they are a whole different can of worms and less relevant to this discussion

[puhpandas]

I love ggy so much how did they accidentally make the most intriguing hypothetical gay romance ever

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i wanted to try my hand at slamming Home with the puppetification beam. i told myself i wasn't gonna get attached. im attached. not sure about the outfit tho

[sneez]

victor kain chronic pain nation rise up (credit to @transdankovsky for this idea :-D)

/ id: two digital drawings. the first image shows victor kain and daniil dankovsky sitting together; daniil is taking victor’s pulse. inside a speech bubble above victor’s head is a screenshot of a question from the duolingo russian course, in which the sentence ‘я – хороший пациент, у меня всегда всë болит’ is translated as ‘i am a good patient, i always have pain everywhere’. the second image shows daniil looking politely horrified. end id. /

[disast3rtransp0rt]

rip to the people who grew up enjoying Harry Potter and then decided the safety-blanket of nostalgia is worth more than actual human lives but I’m different.

[rubywolf0201]

How Mahoro was initially presented in early promo materials and the first episode OP & ED

When Mahoro was first revealed, she was presented as this cute and peppy love interest character that you typically see in shoujo manga. And when I first look at her, I immediately thought she is kind of an odd duck due to the delinquent-like setting BUCCHIGIRI?! is.

The promo teaser even showed a split second shot of her just being the cute character who would give the main characters some motivation (well just Arajin lol). This of course made me fear that she would be a plot device that would cause a shitty ass love triangle.

OP and ED gets a bit weird in this. When she is presented in the OP, all of the guys (sans Kenichiro and Marito) are immediately taken aback by her. In the ED, all of the main guys are dancing with her, have few shots of them getting ship teased with her and when she did the heart hands thing, all of them are immediately charmed by her.

(Wish I could include all guys being heart handed by Mahoro but I want to put in more photos)

But in the main series? Nope. None of the guys except for Arajin (obviously) really like her or are close to her. And that’s because underneath her cute appearance, lies a selfish and toxic girl who only wants her brother’s attention only. And by doing so, she ‘dates’ guys in hopes that they become the new leader of Siguma and have Marito step down so that she can have him all for herself.

The Siguma members relationship with Mahoro:

- Outa is seen being exasperated by her fangirling antics in the first episode.

- One of the mooks commented that Mahoro dated guys 24 times all so that they can be beaten up by Marito, satisfying her brocon fantasies (which in truth they’re ’tests’ to see if they can beat her brother or not)

- Hagure is shown to be intimidated by her and kept running in circles while being behind Jabashiri’s back in the second episode.

- Jabashiri hardly noticed, much less pay attention to Mahoro.

- Marito is the exception since he is the older brother but even he has limits if the face he made in the second ep is of any indication.

This even applies to Minato Kai as well:

- Kenichiro, Kamao and Zabu doesn’t know her yet but in the case of the latter two, they probably know her in passing but otherwise they hardly paid attention to Mahoro.

- Matakara does but he dislikes the way she is manipulating Arajin for personally selfish reasons. When he tried to confront her, she straight up ignored him. When he did it again but with force, she screeched like a siren and ran off.

But with all that said, let’s take a glimpse of Mahoro’s character:

- Presents herself as a shojo manga-esque character.

- But in actuality, she’s a massively unhinged brocon.

- toxic and manipulative. All it takes is using a hand heart sign and guys would immediately be ‘motivated’ by her.

- Is known to go out with guys but has never really shown any care about their personal lives (if her actions in 1st and 3rd episode are of any indication)

- morally selfish but not downright evil. Just selfish.

- can fight back if she wants to.

- doesn’t care about anyone other than her brother.

- hates being touched by other random guys who tried to question her.

- ignores people who tried to confront her about her motives.

I know that I’ve made quite a few posts about Mahoro but she strikes me as an interesting character despite her actions in today’s episode but at the same time, I do hope that she at least have character development along the way, have a backstory that explains why she is the secretly toxic and selfish brocon that she is today and last but not least not thrown or sidelined into a unconventional damsel in distress.

Anyways, peace! ✌🏻

[beybuniki]

one thing i noticed (form personal experience and by observing other artists) is that the longer you draw and create, the more boring it gets to simply replicate references, especially when it comes to characers' fashion choices.

with bnha, i keep mine pretty simple and basic because teens ARE very trend-loyal, but mainly im just lazy lol, but when i AM motivated, i love to think about characters' personal style, what could influence them, but also more trivial things such as budget into account, which is why i love to draw Deku in basic tees or clothes provided by his school (while bakugo gets to wear ed hardy and shoto wears arcteryx). i also love to limit the items like its just more realistic to me when someone as ordinary as deku wears the same 5 crewnecks all the time

which brings me to my actual point, namely that the more frequently you draw, the more you learn to do research andto combine your findings into sth new rather than staying faithful to one reference, and i think that's what makes good art so good, being able to draw inspiratioin from all kinds of niches and creating something that feels very authentic and suspends the spectator's disbelief. sometimes i see art and i know exactly which fashion editorial or which kpop idol was referenced, and I'm not insinuating these are bad things i do that too (less frequently now but i sure did!), my point is it's kind of nice to see how ALL artist start out with rather derivative art but eventually move on to create more authentic art that is less about drawing beautiful and perfect people and more about trying to individualize them and that ALSO means giving them weird clothes, scars, asymmetric eyes, a receding hairline etc. like drawing the same beautiful character 200 times gets so boring and it's just more fun to try and make them a bit more human

[queencryo]

would give it all up to be a driver for a minor noblewoman (widow) (vaguely western-european) stuck with her in the coach after i was forced to release the horses: this is the worst storm in decades, not even my paw coulda kept these posting-station horses calm through the peals of sky-splitting thunder.

We came to a stop in the middle of the road, the churned mud of the road eagerly assisting the coach's brakes. I'm completely drenched by the time I enter the cabin to report that we'll not be going anywhere, not that that isnt already clear. Plenty of Ladies like this, they would howl and beat at me for getting the road's mud into their carriage. but not mine: she worries only of the mud's water, and my hair's water, and my clothes' water, and how these all offer ample avenue for the night's cold to pierce my frame.

And pierce it does: now that the exertion of driving is ended, i am alarmed at how the cold has already convinced my body to take its side over mine, chattering and shivering so I can hardly understand it when my Lady pushes a parcel of cloth toward me. Its dry, she says, and she'll turn her back while I replace sodden roughspun with dry linen. after a moment of shivering hesitation, she does while i do. The fit is odd, in style as well as cut. She's plush where I'm paucious, I'm fowl bones failing to fill out sheep's skin. I keep the comparison to myself. I cough, and she turns, and she smiles. Says this frock suits me. The blood rushing to my face warms it, almost enough I stop chattering.

We start making the carriage a little warmer, lining the door with another of her dresses. It is a summer cut, too thin to keep the chill from your skin; cladding the coach door, though, it keeps the worst of the wind at bay. And once my cloak mirrors it on the door's opposite, the cabin changes. Less now a channel whose seams the wind can run through unabated. A haphazard little down, and we the rabbits.

And like rabbits, we huddle together. She has a great fur cloak, surely a gift from some earl or czar or other title. It's warm, utterly so, and so is she. The thought of her as a sheep was untoward, but I can't help but think of it again now. I had tried to avoid touching her for propriety, but she had insisted. Wrapping her arms around me like a child, but I was so cold I hadn't stopped her as she encompassed me. I'm not cold anymore, but I stay in her soft embrace nonetheless. She doesn't evict me, and I do not bring myself to ask why.

She asks me questions, about my family and my trade, about horses. It takes time, but soon I ask in turn. We have little in common, but that's an object of fascination rather than deviation. She's never horsed a shoe, I've never ridden in a coach. Her brother is a bore, mine is dead. Before we know it we are talking like friends, conversation passing between us like the present situation was the comfortable norm rather than the best way to avoid death by frost.

I don't know how long we talk, but in time the night in the cracks of our den turns from dark to pitch, and the rain calms from diluvian to quotidian. Our conversation slows with the rain, we sit in warm silence. I look up from a rambling story about my grandmother, and the lady is sleeping. Her snoring is just audible over the rain, and my heart flutters to hear it. I pull myself closer into her, and sigh through my smile.

I close my eyes, and sleep. I am warm.