#they are creating intricate rituals i had to illustrate...

[kittyoperas]

a thousand teeth, and yours among them.

[edith-moonshadow]

Dear Heart Part Two Billy’s POV

Part One (with tags)

Billy grimaced as he shaded around the fox’s eye. He had only done one tattoo on himself before this and it hadn’t been this intricate or important. As the needle bit into his skin, he only kept two things on his mind, Steve Harrington and destruction.

Billy’s mom had always loved his art especially when he’d been younger and it had only been them when Neil was at work. Billy had loved sitting in the corner of their kitchen by the window drawing on the pages that his mom gave him as she dealt with her clients. Neil kept all the money under lock and key but wouldn’t let her get a job. She had fought against these constraints at first until she finally decided that she could work from home providing people with a service that they would pay a lot for. People who wanted help in their lives, those who wanted to give fate a helping hand.

For a lot of people, it was help finding the right job, the right path to success in their lives. Some people wanted a little comeuppance for someone who had wronged them. Nothing too serious maybe they missed an important job interview or had a bad day. Then there were the people who had fallen for someone. With those particular clients the thing that he always remembered the most was their faces, that slightly guilty look in their eyes. When these particular clients came to their house his mom’s tone of voice changed becoming hushed and saddened.

“You shouldn’t tempt fate.”

“I thought you could help me?”

“I can but these results will only be temporary so use your time wisely.”

With a sigh, she would pick up the worn leather-bound book that had belonged to her grandmother and walk back to them. Then she would hand them a piece of paper.

“I need you to draw the person you’re thinking of, hold them in your mind and draw them.”

Most people would protest that they weren’t artists but his mom would reassure them that they just need to manifest them in their minds while committing them to the page.

“It’s not art, it’s magic.”

She would then produce a small jar filled with a thick clear balm. She had shown him how to make it, how to care for the herbs and flowers that had to be used. It was a complicated ritual to prepare it but his mom always called it Moondust, as it had to be created by the light of the moon and had a faint glow to it. She would take this balm and get the person to rub it on their picture before it was burned.

“Only through destruction can we bend fate to our will but only for a short while.”

Once the paper was ash they would pay her and be on their way. Even from a young age, Billy had been fascinated by the whole process and he would ask her so many questions about it but the most pressing was always why wasn’t it permanent. Maybe if they could make it permeant they could get away from Neil and have it just be the two of them. His mom would sigh sadly.

“No baby you can’t change fate only play with it for a while.”

“Why?”

She would pull him close.

“Changing fate demands a sacrifice, something has to be destroyed for it to work but the paper is a small sacrifice. A safe sacrifice.”

Billy didn’t want to believe it, there had to be a way but soon everything changed and he didn’t get to ask any more questions. When his mom left it felt as though she took all the loose pages that Billy used to draw on with her. He didn’t draw seriously for several years until he found his love again through school where it became an escape. A long lost connection to her.

It was only when everything went wrong in California that he discovered some of his old art from when he’d been a child. His mom’s book had been filled with beautiful illustrations and spells that sounded like poetry. When he’d been younger he had copied entire pages from the book while his mom had been beside him encouraging him. He had shoved them into a bag, a burning in his throat but he couldn’t bear to throw them away.

Hawkins was worse than he’d been imagining and he could feel his rage burning through him, he felt anger at everyone, especially Neil. He poured his anger into his art, his frustration and pain becoming something beautiful on the page. He hated Hawkins, everything felt so backwards and ordinary. He was sure that nothing ever happened there. When he’d first arrived he thought it would be a tedious wait until he was finished with high school so that he could finally leave but fate had another plan in mind for him.

From the moment that he’d first laid eyes on Steve Harrington Billy had felt completely disoriented. He had done his best to appear unaffected but his heart had been racing, a strange burning in his chest as he watched him dancing with Wheeler. Steve had been so dismissive of him that it made him burn inside as Steve was constantly on his mind but when they ran into each other Steve treated him like he wasn’t there. For the first time in his life art couldn’t calm his mind.

He tried to forget about him by hanging out with the other members of the basketball team who under Tommy’s influence had a lot to say about Steve and little of it was good. To Billy, it sounded like a lot of bitter jealousy but at least he got to learn some things about Steve. Yet it only made him ache more so he tried to lose himself in other people but it only left him cold. Soon the only thing he looked forward to each day was riling Steve up in the halls of Hawkins high. Until they graduated.

Billy had taken a job at the local pool, it gave him something to do, a little extra money and took his mind off what he couldn’t have. Then Steve got a job at Scoops Ahoy and Billy’s summer became a lot more frustrating. Soon he found himself by the pool sketching as the air grew cooler and fewer people came to the pool. Billy mind appeared on the page, his rage, his pain and the one thing he ached for above everything else.

He was so lost that when he heard someone’s voice he almost dropped his work.

“They’re really good, are you an artist?”

He turned to see a petite girl with long black hair smiling at him.

“No.”

“You’re really good.”

“Thanks.”

“Want a job?”

“Doing what?”

“Well I just opened a tattoo parlour near Starcourt and by the looks of things you’ll need another job soon and you’re art is really impressive.”

Billy shrugged.

“Drawing on paper is going to be different than on people.”

“True but we could work out an apprenticeship.”

Billy looked down at the picture in his hands, it was Steve’s face but without his eyes, he hadn’t perfected them yet even though he thought of them often. He thought why not do something that gave him a creative outlet, it was true that soon the pool would close and he’d have to find some way to stay out of the house.

“Why not?”

By the end of the week, he was spending all his days at On A Dead Man’s Chest learning everything he could from Betty and before he knew it he had his first customer. It took everything in him to hold the needle steady, he could feel the tremors under his skin but he did his best to work through it. He soon found himself with a steady client base and he found himself gravitating towards traditional tattoos. He could also do more realistic tattoos but so far only a handful of people in Hawkins had requested them. Betty told him often how impressed with his work she was and Billy couldn’t help[ but absorb her praise. He enjoyed her company she had been a tattoo artist for around ten years and she had great stories about the strange tattoos people wanted and their reactions to getting tattooed.

Being near Starcourt also allowed him to indulge in his other obsession and he would walk to the rail opposite Scoops Ahoy so that he could watch Steve. He could feel the ache within him grow as Steve moved around oblivious in the sailor outfit that was his uniform. He didn’t know if he wanted to find the person who had designed it unsure if he wanted to thank or threaten them. The only upside seemed to be that Billy was the only person affected by the uniform in the way that he was. He had seen Steve’s eyes harden as old classmates jeered or ignored him altogether.

The only people who seemed to spend any time with him was the girl who worked with him and Henderson and occasionally the other kids. The kids seemed to view him as some kind of older sibling but he couldn’t be sure about the girl. They had easy energy about them that made Billy clench his jaw so hard he got headaches. He’d never seen anything outwardly romantic between them and if what he’d witnessed with Wheeler was anything to go by he knew Steve wouldn’t be able to contain himself. Also to his chagrin he knew that he was still with Wheeler. He knew they probably referred to themselves as high school sweethearts, had inside jokes and had a whole future planned out.

Even though he knew it was pathetic he couldn’t stop watching Steve on his break, he felt so powerless. Steve had never accepted him and he wished he’d been able to approach him differently but when he got within arm's length something inside Billy always took over and he couldn’t help but push. Steve didn’t like that and now he had to watch him from afar like a lovesick schoolgirl.

After a while of being at the tattoo parlour, he decided he wanted to expand his art a little, give people something unique. He wasn’t sure if anyone in Hawkins would be interested but he hoped to expand and become good enough for somewhere bigger. He still had dreams of returning to California one day.

There wasn’t much inspiration in Hawkins and he still hid his sketches of Steve fear in his heart that Betty would recognise him or worse still that Max would see them. He knew that he had some old sketches from California in the top of his closet so he had got them down. He had a box filled with the drawing he used to do with his mom and the ones that he’d done under the tutelage of his old art teacher. Looking at them brought a bittersweet smile to his face as his mind was transported back to better times in his past. He was searching through them when he found an old sketch with writing on it and he remembered when he’d dabbled in calligraphy with his mom’s help. He closed his eyes letting the memory of her fill his mind. He could feel her arms around him, her hand gently guiding his on the page, the sweet smell of her perfume as her warm voice spoke softly.

“That’s it, just up and then back down and there you go all finished.”

He looked down at the slightly shaky scrawl in front of him and then back up into her proud eyes.

“It’s beautiful but once it’s dry you have to put it away where no one will see it, ok Baby.”

“Why?”

Her eyes softened.

“Some people won’t understand what this is but they will still fear it and they will use that fear against you.”

“Like dad?”

She pulled him close as she whispered against his skin.

“Yeah Baby.”

Billy looked down at the words now and even though he hadn’t seen them in years he knew what it was, the recipe for Moondust. It felt like all the air had been forced from his lungs as he collapsed back on the bed behind him. He couldn’t believe that all this time he’d had the answer to all his problems right here. Then he remembered his mom’s words to the desperate people who came to her with guilt in their eyes.

‘Only through destruction can we bend fate to our will but only for a short while.’

Billy didn’t want Steve for only a short while, he wanted it to be forever. He knew that he could draw him over and over, keep rubbing the balm until the lines of the picture smudged and then throw it into the flames and keep Steve at the forefront of his mind. He would do it until Steve didn’t need him to anymore and came to him of his own free will. Billy knew that they were destined to be. Yet there was a nervousness under his skin when he remembered that his mom would only perform this particular spell once no matter how much a person beg or threatened her when the person they loved walked away from them. She never disclosed why it could only be done once but nothing could ever persuade her to repeat it.

No, a simple drawing would never be enough, he needed to figure out a way to make it permanent so that he only had to do it once and Steve would be his. Soon it occupied his every thought fuelled by the growing jealousy he felt as he watched Steve grow closer to the girl he worked with but the final straw was when he moved out of his parent's house and in with Wheeler.

Billy knew he was running out of time, his jealousy burning through him until he felt as though his heart was on fire. He drew Wheeler, he knew it wasn't a perfect recreation of her face because he'd never paid her much attention. He knew that it wasn't important to get every detail of her correct, he just needed something that resembled her to destroy as he kept her firmly in his mind. He had waited on the full moon to create some of the balm. He'd found himself mesmerized with how it caught the light as it seemed to glow.

He couldn't figure out what to do with Wheeler until he remembered Tommy telling him with a sneer in his voice about how the freak was so sweet on her. Byers.

It felt like the perfect solution so he searched for a yearbook then drew Byers beside her, his eyes firmly on her with a familiar light burning them up from within. He thought about them together as Byers' feelings grew and Wheeler finally realised how perfect he was. He held onto the slow burn romance in his mind, that they spend so much time together, realise how much they have in common, how perfect they are for one another until they couldn't deny it anymore. As he kept it firmly in his mind he dipped his fingers into the balm rubbing it over the lines until they bled together smudging the lines between reality and fantasy. Then he opened his lighter and watched with satisfaction as it burned to ash.

Even though he wasn’t sure if the spell had worked he continued to think about them together hoping that it would become reality while he figured out how to capture Steve’s heart. He continued to try and capture Steve in his art but there was always something not quite right. He couldn’t fully capture his eyes even though he’d seen them up close so many times and they haunted his dreams he couldn’t get them right on paper.

Over the next week, he felt his desperation grow as he didn’t know how much time he had on the spell between Wheeler and Byers and he wasn’t even sure if it was working. There had to be a way to make the spell permanent but his mom had been practising magic since she was young and had learned everything she knew from her mom and grandmother so if there was a way surely they would have known. His desperation grew so strong that in his weakest moments he thought that a short amount of time with Steve was better than nothing. Yet he knew when his time was up he wouldn’t be able to go back to the way things were before and he knew how much it would hurt for Steve to return to ignoring him. He would be just like those people who used to come to his mom with pain or anger in their voice as they did everything they could for just a little more time.

There was a distinct chill in the air, his breath misting before him as he listened carefully. He moved slowly through the forest led by his instincts something else was here. He moved around a tree and there it was a beautiful deer, it was silently eating some leaves nearby but even though he didn’t make a sound it startled and looked in his direction. When its large doe eyes met his it turned and ran. With his heart beating rapidly in his chest he ran towards it, his hunger grew until he couldn't help licking over his teeth. The chase made him feel alive, it was more than his hunger it was a deep need within him that needed to be sated. Finally, he caught it, he looked down into its wide eyes as he sunk his teeth deep into its chest until he could taste its beating heart.

Billy awoke with his heart hammering in his chest but the final image of his dream was imprinted in his mind. A fox with its teeth sinking into a deer’s heart.

He couldn’t shake the image for days, the large doe eyes of the deer and how the sharp teeth of the fox sunk so easily into its heart taking it for its own. It felt as though his mind had been enchanted by the dream for days until he finally committed it to paper. As he stared at it he couldn’t help thinking about Steve’s eyes and all the times when they’d been in school together and he had cornered him and got to see them up close. That twist in his stomach, the thrill under his skin as Steve became flustered and Billy’s hunger grew.

Slowly the idea formed in his mind and he couldn’t believe he hadn't thought of it sooner, a tattoo. He would take the image from his dream and tattoo it onto his skin, the needle scarring him would be the destruction and he’d think about Steve’s devotion for him so that he could finally ensnare his heart.

It took several hours after work in the tattoo parlour when it was locked up for the night for Billy to complete the tattoo. The time was filled with pain as he tattooed the image from his dreams onto his chest while keeping Steve’s devotion firmly in his mind. When it was completed he took a freshly prepared jar of the balm and rubbed it carefully over his chest while continuing to keep Steve in mind. A searing pain spread out across his skin making his breath catch as he fell heavily to his knees, the skin around his tattoo becoming hot and tight as sweat broke out across his face. He dug his fingers into the ground so hard that he thought his nails would split as he took several deep breaths trying to control his pain before it slowly started to subside. He collapsed fully onto the cold floor of the tattoo parlour his heart beating erratically as he continued to think about Steve and the moment when he’d give his heart to him.

He watched Steve from across the mall for several days with a burning desire for him to finally notice him but nothing significant seemed to have changed and he remained unnoticed. He wanted so desperately to just walk casually into Scoops and gauge Steve’s reaction to him but he couldn’t bear it if it hadn’t worked. He had never seen the interactions between the people who came to his mom and the people they chose but he had always assumed it was instantaneous but maybe it took more time than he knew. He was still in high demand back at the tattoo parlour so he tried to get lost in work.

“Hey, Billy you’re not going to believe who just walked in?”

“Who?”

Betty smiled.

“A sailor and he wants a traditional heart tattoo.”

Billy’s heart started to race as he walked to the corner so he could look and see who was in the shop and to his delight there stood Steve Harington. Betty came to stand beside him.

“I think it might be his first tattoo and I think he wants to put someone’s name on it.”

She sighed as they watched Steve walk around the shop looking at examples of their work.

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“No, I have a client coming in first thing this morning but tell him to come back at six.”

“At six?”

“Yeah, I can talk to him about it then.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah I’m booked pretty solid for the next few weeks but I can fit him in later, it’s a pretty simple tattoo.”

Betty shrugged before she walked back to Steve and he retreated to the back. The rest of the day he couldn’t believe that Steve had finally come to him. That the spell had worked. He was so preoccupied with his excitement that he forgot to visit Scoops that day and instead spent his time preparing for Steve’s arrival.

The little bell ringing above the door into the shop alerted Billy to the fact that Steve had finally arrived. He quickly checked his station and realised that somehow in all his preparations for Steve getting here he’d forgotten to get more red ink. He walked out into the hall on his way to the stock room when he heard his voice.

“Hello?”

“Close the door tight and come back here.”

He listened for the door being closed then headed in the direction of the stockroom. He found the red ink quickly and returned to the room finding Steve sitting on the bed. He jumped up with wild eyes and Billy was transported to his dream for a moment.

“What are you doing here?”

Billy laughed raising his arms in front of him.

“I’m the tattoo artist.”

“What?”

“I was just getting some more red ink because I was told you wanted a traditional heart style tattoo. So you want to be a real sailor then.”

“Did you know it was me?”

Billy shook his head, Steve didn’t need to know that he’d been dreaming of this moment since he rubbed the Moondust on his chest.

“This is serious Hargrove I don’t want you fucking this up just to get at me.”

Billy moved closer he could feel the fox under his skin.

“Why would I do a shitty job and tank my own reputation as an artist just to piss you off? Trust me Princess I’m going to do a good job as I do for all my clients.”

Steve looked away with his shoulders slumped.

“Maybe this was a bad idea…”

“Why did you want a tattoo?”

Steve looked back at him with a searching look.

“You’ll only laugh at me.”

Billy could feel the excitement building under his skin, it couldn’t be a coincidence that Steve was here.

“You don’t have to tell me but trust me I’ve seen it all at this point.”

Steve bit his lip as he gathered the courage to tell Billy what he wanted and Billy felt his teeth ache.

“I wanted a heart tattoo…for Nancy.”

A strange mixture of disappointment and rage rose through him and he walked over to his station and threw down the red ink. Could the spell have worked but the message wasn’t clear and now he’d just reinforced his love for her? He wanted to bite his tongue in half but made himself continue to talk to Steve, maybe he could still salvage this.

“Why would I laugh at that?”

“I dunno we’ve never really…seen eye to eye…”

“Where do you want it?”

There was a pause before Steve spoke again.

“I wanted it over my heart.”

Billy took a deep breath as he tried to control his emotions. Of course, Steve would want to make a grand romantic gesture and place it directly over his heart. He turned towards him.

“Ok take off your shirt.”

Steve’s eyes widened as Billy’s heart thudded in his chest.

“You promise me you’ll take this seriously.”

He extended his index finger and crossed his heart which seemed to work as Steve pulled off the top of his uniform exposing his smooth soft skin. His need to touch Steve became too great and he walked closer running his fingers fleeting over the space above his heart enjoying his small shiver.

“How big is it?”

Steve’s timid question made Billy think about the fox watching the deer’s eyes before it unveiled its sharp teeth. He ran his finger over his skin in accrued heart shape. Steve followed his finger intently with his eyes before he laughed nervously.

“That big huh?”

“It has to be a bit bigger to fit the name on it.”

Steve bit his lip as he contemplated what to do and Billy wanted to chase the sting of his teeth with his tongue. He moved back and motioned towards the bed and with a deep breath, Steve climbed up onto it and lay back. Billy moved closer and ran his fingers over his skin again. He couldn’t wait until he could touch Steve without pretence, just because he wanted to.

“Here?”

Steve nodded.

“So you want a classic heart with a banner?”

“Y-yeah with Nancy’s name in the banner.”

“That’s a very big commitment are you sure?”

Steve’s eyes got a faraway look as he considered the tattoo. Billy watched him wondering if he was thinking about her. He could feel a burning in his chest when he considered the tattoo one more and had an epiphany.

“Yes.”

Billy nodded then reached behind him for the vaseline that he would use to help the needle glide more easily over Steve’s skin before he grabbed his tattoo pen. Usually, he would use a stencil but he wanted Steve’s tattoo to be unique and created completely from Billy’s hand. He needed it to be if this was going to work. He drew the heart over where Steve’s heart was as he thought about Steve’s devotion to him. That after this he would be his always. He finished the design leaving the banner blank. For now.

“Where’s her name?”

“Don’t worry Pretty Boy, I’ll write in the name once I’ve got the heart finished.”

Steve lay back down and Billy got everything ready before moving close once more.

“I’m going to do the outline first then I’ll fill in the heart and banner then we can do the name and you’re finished.”

Steve nodded and Billy started the tattoo. He felt him flinch slightly before he closed his eyes taking small calming breaths. Billy concentrated on his work as he tried to keep Steve’s devotion in mind. By the time he was filling in the colour, Steve’s face had a rosy glow as he tried and failed to suppress breathless little moans. When people were in pain they made all different kinds of noises as they tried not to squirm but for Billy hearing, Steve make these little whimpers were driving him to distraction. He licked his teeth thinking of the day when they would be because of him and not his needle.

“Uhhhhhh….”

Billy had to take a steadying breath before he did something stupid that would derail the whole spell but he couldn’t resist moving his lips close to his ear just to feel him squirm.

“You ok, Princess?”

Steve let out a slow breath.

“Yeah, I just didn't know it was going to hurt so much.”

“You didn't know that having a needle stab into your skin over and over was going to hurt?”

“I knew it was going to hurt asshole just not this much.”

Billy ran his fingers over the tattoo relishing Steve’s small flinch.

“Want to take a break?”

“No, just keep going.”

While Steve was distracted he brought his lips close to his ear, the urge to bite was strong but he resisted.

“You’re doing so good.”

Steve settled back onto the bed and Billy returned to the tattoo. Soon he was finished with the colour portion and he started on the lettering. He didn’t write it out beforehand as he’d written it so many times in his life. He bit his lip in concentration as he slowly wrote the letters into the banner letting the idea of Steve’s devotion fill his mind. When this was over Steve would willingly offer his heart to Billy. When it was complete he moved back to admire it feeling something settle within him at the sight before him. He reached over and lifted the small jar that he had used on himself and carefully started to rub it into Steve’s skin. He put some on his finger and ran it over it each letter making sure that it was completely covered before he covered the heart. Steve shivered slightly then his breath escaped on a soft moan as his body slowly relaxed. Billy covered the tattoo completely in the balm then bandaged it up.

“Still with me Princess?”

Billy watched him carefully for any change as Steve slowly opened his eyes.

“Are we done?”

“Yeah.”

Steve looked down at the tattoo.

“You didn’t let me see it?”

“You’d fallen asleep and I needed to get it bandaged up to protect it but don’t worry you’ll see it in a couple of days.”

“A couple of days?”

“Yeah, I need you to come back and see me, Friday at six. Don’t take off the bandage or get it wet before then.”

“Why can’t I take it off?”

“Because you’ll ruin the tattoo that’s why just come back to me. I know the proper way to take off the bandages so that it doesn’t destroy the tattoo.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“We can discuss it when you come in on Friday.”

Billy hoped the spell would have taken effect by then.

The following day he awoke to the feeling of a million tiny ants dancing under the skin of his tattoo. It had never itched before but now it was unbearable even having his clothes touching it made him have to grit his teeth. An uneasy feeling crept under his skin as he worried that this was a bad sign for the spell. For the first time in a long time, he wished his mom was there was so he could ask for her guidance.

His day at work passed so slowly as he couldn’t keep his eyes off the clock or his mind of Steve. It was maddening to know he was only a short distance away and Billy didn’t know if the spell was working. When he break came along he practically rushed the client out the door even though the girl seemed pretty determined to stay and talk to him about tattoos but Billy was more determined to get rid of her. He didn’t even grab a coat or tell Betty that he was leaving he just walked quickly towards Scoops.

He took up his usual place across the mall but after a few minutes both Steve and the girl moved into the back and Billy was too impatient. He walked across the mall and in through the door, he had denied himself long enough. He could hear movement in the back of the shop and just walked around and into the back where he found Steve alone. He had his back to him and was getting a large tub of ice cream out of a freezer. He heard Billy approach and laughed.

“That was fast, he must be getting sweet on…”

Steve turned towards him with a smile, his eyes widening as he realised Billy was there. Billy watched him carefully for a moment to see if anything had changed but Steve just stared at him like a deer caught in headlights so he thought fuck it there was a sure-fire way to check and see if the spell was working. He walked quickly over to him backing him up against the freezer with the ice cream in between them. He leaned forward capturing Steve’s lips in a brutal kiss delighted when Steve gasped as he dropped the ice cream at their feet. Billy finally gave into temptation biting down hard on Steve’s plump lower lip causing him to open his mouth. He wasted no time licking into his mouth. He pressed his chest up against Steve’s and when they were fully against each other it seemed to ignite something in Steve causing him to moan and pull Billy closer. He quickly became enthralled by Steve, how he whimpered into his mouth and gave himself over to Billy. He slid his hands down onto his hips squeezing them in his hands so he could relish Steve’s gasp.

“Steve?”

The shocked voice echoed through the room and to Billy’s disappointment Steve pulled away from him. He wanted to press in harder and keep him there but he knew now that there was plenty of time for that. The spell wasn’t fully in effect yet but it was working on Steve and soon he would be his. He grabbed Steve’s arm pulling him close just so he could relish his shiver as he whispered into his ear.

“See you Friday, Princess.”

With difficulty, he pulled away from Steve and walked from the shop. He couldn’t wait until he got him all alone on Friday.

Billy was practically vibrating in his skin as closing time approached. He had spent the whole day fantasizing about Steve again but this time there was anticipation too because he knew the spell was working. He didn’t have any clients from five so he had spent his last hour at work getting everything ready.

Around six he heard the bell above the door ring out and then the door closing firmly. When he heard Steve arrive at his room he turned towards him. His eyes widened slightly as he took in Billy’s chest and he couldn’t help preening under his attention especially as he looked at the tattoo. He could almost feel the fox beneath his skin as it tracked Steve as he crossed the room. He looked like the frightened deer from his dream as though at any moment he would sprint from the room. Billy motioned towards the bed then as soon as Steve had sat down he boxed him in with his body and grabbed the bottom of his uniform shirt. Steve looked up at him with wide eyes and he could feel the fox’s mouth start to water as he pulled it up and off. Steve lay down and Billy moved over him, his eyes zeroed in on the bandage. His fingers itched to remove it to finally see what he knew was there, a brand across Steve’s skin. Proof that he belonged to him.

“Ready Princess?”

He let his fingers dance over the edge of the bandage, letting the sweet anticipation bubble under his skin as he slowly started to peel it away. He couldn’t resist watching Steve to see his reaction as he knew this would be the first time that he would see the tattoo. He watched Steve’s eyes as he watched as it was slowly revealed until he saw it in its entirety. A blood-red heart with Billy’s name in the middle. Steve’s eyes locked with his own and all he saw was Steve’s anticipation for what would happen next, no fear, no anger only desire. He couldn’t hold the fox’s hunger back any longer so he struck.

He climbed up onto the bed so that he was on top of Steve then leaned down so that he could capture his lips in a hungry kiss. Steve sighed against him as though he had been waiting with bated breath for Billy to finally claim him then he kissed back with equal hunger. He could feel Steve’s fingers tentatively stroking over his chest and he pulled back. Steve looked up at him with a delicate flush on his cheeks before his eyes fell to his chest once more. Billy pulled his shirt away so that Steve could see everything. He leaned up slightly so that he could run his fingers over the design. His fingers lingered on the heart and Billy felt something within him settle.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful. What’s it from?”

“A dream.”

Steve looked at him and something passed through his mind, an understanding. Billy pulled him into another kiss before he covered Steve completely with his body. Steve wrapped his arms around him pulling him closer.

Billy let himself get lost in Steve for a while but soon he needed more so he started to kiss his way down Steve’s body He licked over his skin relishing his small shivers until the urge to mark became too strong. He sank his teeth into the side of Steve’s neck pleased when he made a similar sound to the anguished pleasurable noises he’d made when Billy had tattooed him. He moved down leaving a trail of bright red marks in Steve’s skin until he reached the tattoo.

He placed a soft kiss in the centre before he licked slowly over his name tracing each letter with his tongue delighted when he felt Steve’s fingers dig hard into his shoulders with his name breathlessly on his lips.

“Billy…”

He slid further down until he reached the top of Steve’s shorts. As he undid them he thought about how much they had occupied his mind since he had started in Scoops. He had appreciated them for a long time but also hated that other people got to see Steve in them. He slid them and his underwear down and off as he was growing impatient. He took a moment to admire Steve’s body, his pale skin dotted with beauty marks and the heart tattoo stark against it. He pulled Steve’s thighs apart so that he could push his way in between them. He licked over the sensitive skin of his inner thigh enjoying the little jump he could feel under his skin. He slid his fingers into his jeans pocket so that he could retrieve the lube he’d brought with him just for this.

He concentrated on a spot that he selfishly knew would still be visible when Steve had his shorts on and bit down hard before soothing it with his tongue then he licked an inch up and repeated the process all over again. Steve squirmed under him, his skin becoming heated and clammy under Billy’s ministrations. Steve whimpered something that sounded like his name and Billy opened the lube pouring it generously over his fingers. He moved up towards Steve’s hip biting down into the bone as he pressed a finger up against Steve’s hole. With a little pressure, he was able to push it inside as it fluttered around it. Billy licked over the indents he’d left in Steve’s hip before he moved over towards his hard cock.

Steve cried out when he sucked the head into his mouth, he ran his tongue over it as he pushed his finger in further. Steve shuddered under him as he pulled his cock further into his mouth while messaging the underside with his tongue. He pulled his finger back then pressed in another alongside it feeling Steve’s thighs tensing. Billy worked hard to make sure that Steve was becoming overwhelmed in pleasure as he’d dreamed about this moment for so long and he wanted it to be perfect. He knew that the spell was working but he wanted to make it permanent, for Steve to only ever want him. He wanted him to associate Billy with pleasure. He wanted to fully ensnare his heart so that he would be his always.

He crooked his fingers pleased when Steve jumped and his cock throbbed in Billy’s mouth. He pulled back until only the head remained then pressed against that spot again. Steve moaned as pre-come dribbled into Billy’s waiting mouth. He had to shift slightly to accommodate his hard cock in his jeans. He licked over Steve a little longer just to draw out the agony then he pulled back and away. Steve looked down at him, his lips were swollen and red from his teeth, his face flushed and sweaty.

“Billy?”

“Don’t worry Sweetheart, I’m just getting myself ready.”

He moved back so that he could undo his jeans and pull his hard cock out. He poured more lube onto his hand and coated himself with it while Steve watched him with wide doe eyes. Billy’s hunger knew no bounds as he slid back up Steve’s body to capture his bitten lips once more. He positioned himself and pushed forward enjoying Steve’s whimper into his mouth as his body fluttered around him. Once he bottomed out Billy started a steady rhythm. He kissed his way down Steve’s throat.

“Fuck Princess you feel so good.”

Billy was already addicted to this feeling, of how perfectly Steve’s body squeezed around him, his slightly pained whimpers every time he pulled back only to be followed by a soft moan every time he pushed forward. How beautiful he was in this moment as he surrendered willingly to Billy’s hunger. How they felt like two halves finally coming together. He didn’t think he would survive a separation if Steve decided he didn’t want him anymore and left to give his love to someone else. The idea of someone else getting to see Steve like this. That someone else would touch him like this made a boiling rage rise within him. He sunk his teeth hard into Steve’s skin, he wanted to do it so hard that it would become a permanent brand, a little destruction to strengthen the spell.

His need pushed him to increase his pace as he continued to lick and bite his way down Steve’s body. The word mine blazed across his mind as he thought about the fox, how it ripped the heart from the deer’s chest until it became its own. It didn’t belong to the deer anymore it was his heart. He wanted to devour Steve’s heart so that no one else could ever lay claim to it. He growled into Steve’s heated skin.

“Mine.”

“Yes, Billy…”

Steve’s body became tighter and tighter as he pushed harder and harder until his lips danced over the edge of the tattoo. He licked his way into the centre. His name. His heart. He sunk his teeth in hard until he tasted sweet coppery blood. Steve cried out as his body clamped down hard on Billy until he felt him come in between their bodies.

“Billy…Billy…”

His name on Steve’s lips and the taste of his blood in his mouth caused Billy to follow him as he came deep inside him. He lost track of time as his mind became full of nothing but Steve.

When he came to his face as pressed up against Steve’s chest with Steve’s fingers running softly through his hair. He listened closely but all he could hear was Steve heart beating gently in his ear. He pulled back to look up at him and Steve smiled lovingly down at him. He glanced at the tattoo seeing his bloody teeth marks in Steve’s heart before he moved up and caught him in a passionate kiss. Steve moaned at the taste of his blood and Billy remembered his mom’s words.

‘Only through destruction can we bend fate to our will.’

Billy understood destruction. He was good at it. His mom had taught him a lot but the most important was that love was fleeting. She had taken her love and given it to someone else with barely a backward glance. Steve was different and so was Billy. There was something deep and hungry inside him and the only thing that would satisfy it was Steve. Billy knew for Steve he wouldn’t only bend fate, he would push it until it snapped. Steve’s heart was his.

[soveryanon]

Reviewing time for MAG179! TTwwwwwTT

- That was such a short statement! As far as Desolation goes, this one really reminded me of MAG107 for the fear of losing what and who’s precious to you (“What part of his life would he have to burn then? What thing he loved would he have to hurl into the flames? The apprehension is as familiar to him as the scent of burning hair. He knows what it means to wait, and see what he has lost.”), having to contribute to that loss, and the loss being always followed by another loss. I really like how it managed to develop its own implacable rhythm through the cycles of repetition becoming shorter and shorter: the succession of losses, the litany of “I got you”, “he had Colin’s back”/“Derek has his back”, “The first time”/“The second time”/“The third time”… stopping with Daisy’s irruption. It really felt like she was breaking an implacable series of routines – though by inflicting worse. I like how Derek and Colin’s relationship managed to indeed feel so deep, intricate and complicated in such a few lines – with the fact that Colin had helped Derek on so many occasions, including to ensure the disappearance of his father’s body (killed in self-defence while he was being abusive?), and… that gratefulness slowly becoming a burden dragging Derek down (taking Colin’s defence, taking the blame for him, losing more and more, sinking and being pushed even deeper by the “bored cop” – Daisy? – who just made things worse because they could). Their relationship being an anchor in both senses: the help to get out of a situation, and the thing pulling you down. It was already evoking Daisy and Basira’s partnership, already reminding us of Daisy’s crimes, and already indirectly coming for Basira’s throat.

It’s interesting that in this domain, Derek never seemed to have the certainty of the identity of the corpses or items he was incinerating? He worried about Tilly when seeing the toys, but it was not stated whether they were hers, and, in the same way, the corpse was never said to be Colin’s (“Derek doesn’t know the man who lies in the cart, lifeless eyes staring at him from a head split in two by a careless shovel-blow”) although it triggered the memories. Given how concrete Derek’s (life)story sounded before getting trapped in this domain (… which seems to be: the furnace of the junkyard where Colin worked, where the body of Derek’s father disappeared), down to his brush with the police, I wonder if these memories were fabricated by the Domain, or if some bits were genuine bits from his past life? We’ve seen some doubt flickering about whether or not Mehreen really had a family in the Vast domain (MAG174), it could be another case of the Fears creating memories to squeeze the most of their victims… but with Derek, we do have the certainty that he had encountered Daisy before the Change and that she had felt that he had “got away”, since she was hunting him…

(I also got hit by the realisation that… this might be the last Desolation statement/story we ever get in the series; 14-15 Fears means that statistically, each would get 2 to 3 statements per season. We might still get another Something related to the Desolation before the end of the show, about Agnes and/or Hill Top Road and/or the Web lighter and/or the fact that Web seems weak to Desolation and/or about the recurring motif of burning down the Archives… but this could have been the last one. It’s even likelier that we won’t get any more Flesh statement/domain after MAG178’s, and I had not realised when that one aired. It’s weird to think “this might be the last time we hear about x”, since the end of the series is approaching?)

- I’m still wondering about the “death” status:

(MAG177) BASIRA: She’s been killing. MARTIN: What? No – no, that can’t be right. I–I thought people weren’t even allowed to die any more. ARCHIVIST: Not permanently, but, uh… Ah.

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: “… Another victim. Another hunt. The pain and terror courses through him. Derek is still aware as she toys with him, pulls bits from his torso and chews them with a hundred sharpened teeth. He is aware, though not, perhaps, alive.”

We’ve seen her butcher this corpse (and she had been awful with the previous ones, too) – are they meant to respawn? To remain stuck in this state, technically “aware” without being alive? (Though: “aware, though not, perhaps, alive” might be a definition which could apply to… everyone trapped in the domains.)

- Still that thing about the sounds, when Jon gives his statements! It’s naturally been growing stronger: he creates his own soundscape when giving a statement, illustrating the main’s victim surroundings… and that soundscape fades away as soon as Jon is done. Is that a new power developing…? Is it because of dream logic, an extension of his role as a sort of story-teller (he’s supposed to make his audience imagine the sounds, and yet the sounds come to illustrate what he’s saying)…? This one was especially curious because we heard Daisy, who was… currently tearing into a body nearby (but not in the same room as Jon), as if she was present.

- AHAHA.

(MAG179) BASIRA: She’s here, then? ARCHIVIST: [SURPRISED] Basira? I… I–I didn’t hear you, uh… BASIRA: No. I figured you wouldn’t when you were… busy.

It sure feels like something screaming “JON HAS A WEAKNESS, AND IT MIGHT BE USED AGAINST HIM SOON”, in the same way as Annabelle highlighting that Jon was now forced to read a statement until its end once he had begun was followed by Jonah using that trick for his ritual ;; We’ve already seen this at work, how Martin had trouble shaking Jon off from giving a statement, in Jude’s domain; since the episode ended with Jon and Martin going off on their own again… Big Fear that at some point, Jon will come back to his surroundings to discover that Martin is just… gone.

After MAG170 (Martin getting lost in the Lonely house), it looked like Jon and Martin were a bit more cautious about getting separated in domains: instead of leaving Jon completely alone, Martin had stayed quite close or right next to him in a few instances (MAG171, MAG176, and MAG172 although Martin ended up wandering off). In the last two episodes, Basira had initially stayed with Martin: was it an additional security for Jon? I wonder what they’ll go back to, starting next episode – if Martin will stay close, or if they’ll go back to Jon doing his thing in his corner.

- ;________; Basira and Jon’s bantering felt… so nice?

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: I thought you were keeping watch. BASIRA: I was. Watched you sneak away. ARCHIVIST: … Sorry. BASIRA: You apologise too much. ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLING] Martin says the same thing…! BASIRA: [CHUCKLING] Like he’s any better!

They felt like they genuinely liked each other again, were able to share things, even with dry teasing? It didn’t feel like Basira was trying to insult him, but rather that they shared the same sense of humour, here and there…

Jon’s FONDNESS when he explained that Martin tells him the same thing still kills me. AND TO BE FAIR, yeah, this season, Jon and Martin have the tendency to spontaneously say “sorry” for various things… a lot. And sometimes, it’s genuine and important “sorry”, or them apologising for something unpleasant they’re doing! But both Jon and Martin do say it a lot. (And displayed it in this episode, even! Martin apologising over Jon’s leg when performing first aid, Jon once again telling Basira that he couldn’t do anything for Daisy, and that he was “sorry” over what had to happen…)

- I really felt like Jon… wanted to spare Basira a bit, by not forcing her to face what Daisy had done to this victim. Is it because Basira had already agreed to look in the previous two cases, and was now ready to kill her? Because Jon’s point had come across, and that he didn’t want to kick Basira while she was already down and there was no need anymore? He had been way harsher towards her in the previous episode:

(MAG177) MARTIN: Wait. Wait, so… so, she’s hunting down criminals? People who she… thinks got away with stuff? BASIRA: … Sure. ARCHIVIST: Really? As simple as that? BASIRA: What’s your point? ARCHIVIST: What, you think he ended up in Wonderland House at random? We’re just going to ignore it, and write him off as a “nasty piece of work”? BASIRA: We don’t have time for this. ARCHIVIST: Then we should make time. You want to hear how he ended up blinding that man? Because it wasn’t a robbery. He was running away from Daisy, lashing out in a panic. The court believed it. But you believed her… BASIRA: [ANGRY] I told you not to look in my head! ARCHIVIST: I didn’t. And I won’t. But you can’t hunt a monster that you refuse to see.

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Recognise her… BASIRA: … No… I don’t think I do. ARCHIVIST: That wasn’t a question. It was an instruction, we can’t… move on until you do. […] I told you before, we can’t hunt a monster you refuse to see.

(MAG179) BASIRA: … Why didn’t you want me to hear this one? ARCHIVIST: What? BASIRA: You weren’t this cagey about the other ones, meaning you wanted to keep this one secret. ARCHIVIST: U–uhh… Hum… BASIRA: Because this one was Daisy’s victim? ARCHIVIST: … Yes. BASIRA: … Didn’t think you knew what the statement was going to be before it happened? ARCHIVIST: I just had a sense of it. BASIRA: So… what? You thought I’d hear he was a murderer and I’d agree with her? Maybe I’d figure she was doing the apocalypse a favour by taking him out? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know what I thought. BASIRA: Sure. ARCHIVIST: I don’t know, alright! I was… I was worried that if you listened, it might feel like an accusation. A–after everything we’ve already talked about, I–I mean… What good would it do for you to hear? What’s in this one that you don’t already know? People have their reasons for doing wrong? The system hurts everyone? … Just seemed kind of… pointless. BASIRA: Yeah. I guess. ARCHIVIST: [SELF-DEPRECATIVE SCOFF] Honestly, I just wanted to avoid this conversation. […] So… You did hear it, then? BASIRA: Yeah. ARCHIVIST: What, uh… What did you think? Did it… help? BASIRA: With what? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know…! BASIRA: … Me neither.

* So Jon is able to get a sense of what the domain’s statement will be about, before he even starts? Previously, he had known that they were in “Wonderland House” before beginning his statement, but I had the impression he mostly knew what the domain was about – not about… specific victims. It reminds me of what Annabelle had said about him regarding the written statements (MAG147: “I know the summaries have started to confuse you. Where did they come from, when you read a statement fresh? How do you just… sort of know what it’s about, before you even start to read it…?”), and how he had known about the overall subject of Floyd Matharu’s statement before hearing it. Martin only recently called what Jon has been doing in season 5 “make a statement”, and I really wonder if we’ll learn… what Jon is doing exactly, through those, when he overloads and needs to put the stories into words…

* Small things, here and there: in the previous episode, Basira had agreed to open up, had asked Jon for confirmations, had acknowledged that Jon knew the way towards Daisy and that she had to follow him. I like how nuanced it was, from Jon to want to hide this statement from Basira, that he didn’t want to feel like he was “accusing” her by insisting on things Basira had now understood? And how Basira still wants to know why he would do this – is it condescending, is it coming from a place of sympathy, from absolute awkwardness? (And there is something so fragile and precious in the fact that on the one hand, Jon might have wanted to protect Basira from this one; and on the other hand, Basira wanted to know why he would hide from her… but didn’t jump to his throat about it, and mostly wanted to know why?)

* Tiny progress on Jon’s part? Hearing him acknowledge that he didn’t really know his own reasons for wanting to hide this statement from Basira, and that not being treated like a big deal… seems like a tiny step, compared to his Web paranoia from season 4, when Jon was agonising over Beholding and The Web influencing his actions? Doing something and not knowing why, or rationalising afterwards, would usually be pinned on The Web, but it seems like Jon went back to treat it as something natural, that doesn’t need to be inspected further.

* I like how it really feels like Basira isn’t trying to flee anymore? Just… takes it all in, and accepts that Daisy had wronged someone else.

- Aouch, about the mention of the kidnappings ;_;

(MAG179) BASIRA: Should’ve been sneakier, then. ARCHIVIST: Yeah. … Never been my strong suit, has it? BASIRA: How many times have you been kidnapped at this point? ARCHIVIST: That depends if you– … Hm. BASIRA: … Say it. ARCHIVIST: Depends if you count Daisy. [TENSION & BREATHING]

… Because Basira already knew the answer, and used to be much more callous and mean about it in front of Jon:

(MAG133) ARCHIVIST: Look, I’ve… been where you are. BASIRA: Have you? ARCHIVIST: Yes, I have. Like you’re the only one responsible for everyone, the weight of all their lives on your shoulders: it leads to bad decisions. BASIRA: Yeah, well. When I get myself kidnapped three times in a row, maybe I’ll look to you for advice.

But this episode came after Jon explained how genuinely traumatising Daisy’s kidnapping had been… So it was a bittersweet example of light-hearted banter (Jon and Basira weren’t aggressive! They were joking with each other!) quickly turning sour, accidentally.

- Martin’s Life Is Hard And No One Understands:

(MAG179) [RUNNING FOOTSTEPS ON GRAVEL, APPROACHING] MARTIN: [SLIGHTLY BREATHLESS] Hey-hey! Hey, she’s– she’s, she’s here! [PANTS] BASIRA: What, what? Now? MARTIN: Yeah–yeah, she just… she just tore into a guy, it was…! [SHAKEN] He was, oh, urgh… ARCHIVIST: Yes, we–we understand, Martin.

… Martin found ANOTHER corpse. Gertrude, Leitner, what’s-left-of-Jonah-though-not-technically-a-corpse-since-Martin-was-supposed-to-kill-him, Noah Thomson in MAG177, now this one… Martin, you corpse-magnet.

- Was it Derek’s, since Jon had just given the statement ending with Daisy tearing into him? Did Jon narrate it as it was happening? There is something very curious about the fact that Daisy could interact with both the domains’ victims and our little group – since she ended up injuring Jon, and was shot by Basira. We also got this with Trevor (who was “prey”, but still shot by Basira, who didn’t belong to that domain). Is it a characteristic of Hunters, able to go through the lines in the same way that they had the ability to kill avatars, before the Change? Martin did collide into people/projections last episode (and apologised for it), so it seems like they can interact with victims and not only avatars in the domains, and I wonder if Jon’s power might help them at some point…

- SOB that Daisy’s hunt was not solely about killing the people she labelled as “criminals who got away”. It was about desecrating them, making it as painful as possible (they’re “aware” of what is happening), and… consumption? (She had gotten thinner and had trouble eating towards the end of season 4, is that an echo of it, a way of trying to compensate…?)

- Second gigantic red flag of the episode:

(MAG179) BASIRA: You didn’t think this was worth mentioning!? ARCHIVIST: I didn’t notice, I was talking to you! BASIRA: Fine, whatever.

… The fact that Jon can get distracted and miss information about his surroundings when he’s focusing on something else. It’s extremely Elias-like (it’s how the Archives team had taken him down in season 3), and absolutely feels like something that could get used against Jon at some point…

- I missed Daisy so much, and the first time we hear her live again, she’s reintroduced through the sounds of her EATING THE CORPSE OF SOMEONE SHE JUST KILLED. Cries cries cries.

(Poor Martin: he was audibly upset by the carnage. Too close to Flesh? I remember how Jon had mentioned that he had trouble looking at pictures, in MAG072’s post-statement.)

- Martin’s small interruption made me wonder…

(MAG179) MARTIN: [SUDDEN GASP] [A WOODEN POLE FALLS OVER] [DAISY PAUSES, SNIFFS THE AIR, THEN RESUMES CONSUMPTION] BASIRA: [HUSHED, ANGRY] The hell was that!? MARTIN: Sorry! Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! ARCHIVIST: What happened? MARTIN: I–I thought you were about to fire! BASIRA: So you gasped just in case? MARTIN: Look, it’s a tense situation alright? I don’t know what I’m doing here, I’m not a sniper! BASIRA: Goddamnit!

… if this wasn’t him trying to sabotage the operation because he didn’t want Daisy to die ;_; Though I can absolutely believe that he really just… gasped in advance, because he was too tense. (Also, I LIVE for Martin’s rants about how he’s not equipped to face this kind of stuff.)

… However, meanwhile, Jon was… definitely trying to delay the inevitable:

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: [HUSHED] Is this a good enough angle? We can try and sneak round to the other side of the furnaces. But… then the smoke wouldn’t cover us– BASIRA: It’s fine. Shut up. I just need to focus. ARCHIVIST: … Alright. […] Basira, are you sure you’re up to this? It doesn’t need to be right now. W–we can always… back off, regroup, w–wait for a better situation, one where she isn’t… elbow deep in some poor sod’s corpse. BASIRA: Don’t do that. ARCHIVIST: … Sorry. MARTIN: What am I missing here? BASIRA: He knows, as well as I do, that the only reason we’re even able to get this close is because she’s busy with a kill. There isn’t going to be a better opportunity. MARTIN: … Now or never then. BASIRA: Yeah. I made her a promise. ARCHIVIST: You need to be certain. BASIRA: I am.

I didn’t feel like Jon thought that Basira wasn’t ready, or that the sight was too unsettling for him to bear… but more like it was Jon himself who wasn’t ready for Daisy to be killed, and didn’t want to admit it? While as for Basira, she clearly had progressed towards that resolution:

(MAG164) MARTIN: What’s Basira going to do? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: She… thinks she’s going to kill Daisy. Like she promised. [STATIC DECREASES] But she’s conflicted. MARTIN: And will she? ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t know, th–the future, th–that’s… that’s not something I can see.

(MAG178) BASIRA: [QUIET] … I really am going to have to kill her, aren’t I? ARCHIVIST: There’s no way to bring her back. Not any more. At this point, if I tried to take away her fear… it would destroy her anyway. BASIRA: Am I even going to be able to? ARCHIVIST: Yes. BASIRA: And she stays dead? ARCHIVIST: In this case… yes.

(MAG179) BASIRA: Yeah. I made her a promise. ARCHIVIST: You need to be certain. BASIRA: I am.

(I’m also proud of Martin for immediately asking for clarifications when he was lacking information! … Well, wasn’t exactly the moment to ask, but it’s good that he pointed out, right away, that he was out of the loop. Audience surrogate in action.)

- I lovelovelove TMA’s ability to give tension and also deliver the silliest scenes, while saying so much about its characters:

(MAG179) BASIRA: Would you stop staring at me like that?! ARCHIVIST: Like what? BASIRA: Like you’ve looked inside my head, and you don’t like what you see. ARCHIVIST: If that’s an accusation, then you’re wrong. I don’t do that. [FEASTING SOUNDS STOP] BASIRA: Right. Like you’re suddenly given infinite power and no consequences, and that’s when you decide to start respecting people’s privacy. ARCHIVIST: Is that really so hard to believe? MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Uh… BASIRA: Yeah, Jon. It is. MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Guys, guys… ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] BASIRA: If you have something you want to say god-boy, just say it. MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Guys… ARCHIVIST: Look. I know it’s hard, and you have your reasons– MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Guys… ARCHIVIST: –but it is not my fault that you can’t bring yourself– MARTIN: [EXASPERATED, HUSHED] Shut up! Both of you! BASIRA: What? MARTIN: She’s gone! ARCHIVIST: Wait, what? … Oh. Oh no…

* It’s being hammered in pretty heavily that Jon is not looking in Basira’s or Martin’s heads.

* OUFT, Basira was absolutely on edge and it showed: she went back to one of her regular accusations regarding Jon’s powers, dating from season 4… with the same unfairness. Back then, Jon wasn’t really able to control his bits of Knowing; it’s not that he has “decided” to respect people’s privacy nowadays, it’s just that he couldn’t really do that back then, and is doing his best to do it now that he can.

* … And it says so much about Basira that she immediately assumes that someone with power would casually abuse it… given her own relationship with Daisy, and what Daisy used to do, who she used to be.

* I live for Basira’s pet names:

(MAG140) BASIRA: By this point, I just assume the Eyeball tells you.

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: I told you, I know everything now, more or less. I can see her. With my, uh… BASIRA: … Magic horrorvision? ARCHIVIST: Sure.

(MAG179) BASIRA: If you have something you want to say god-boy, just say it.

* IT REMINDED ME OF ONE OF MY FAVOURITE SCENES!!!

(MAG113) ARCHIVIST: M–Martin! Stop trying to touch the plastic explosive! MARTIN: Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. MELANIE: Guys… ARCHIVIST: Just put your hands in your pockets, or… something… MARTIN: Look, I said, I said I’m sorry… MELANIE: Guys! ARCHIVIST & MARTIN: What?

Team Archive, a bunch of adorable idiots.

* It was suuuuuch a cliché scene and I loved it to pieces, with special *chef kiss* to the sound of Daisy’s meal stopping, and Martin’s hushed outburst <3

- Overall, I really love how the scene was… almost underwhelming? It was messy and awkward, it wasn’t heroic and grand, it wasn't an iconic showdown with a mythical creature. It was mundane, didn’t even feel supernatural? Just… a big dog having grabbed Jon and not letting him go, and how it was affecting characters – Jon being in pain, Martin in absolute anguish over Jon, Basira still trying, a few last times, to pull Daisy back to reason.

- Oh, Martin… the fact that his reflex was still to worry for Jon and Jon’s safety:

(MAG179) MARTIN: Let him go! BASIRA: Get out the way! ARCHIVIST: Take the shot! MARTIN: No, you’ll hit Jon! ARCHIVIST: Uh, take the shot Basira! … Uh… [STRONGER GROWLS] Basira! Do it! MARTIN: Don’t!

… even though Jon is the least likely to get permanent damage from anything, and this was their only opportunity? Martin ;_;

- Crying a LOT all through it about… Basira’s attempts to bring Daisy back, although she had discussed the theory already (that Jon couldn’t do anything, that she would have to kill her, that Daisy was “happy” in her current state). But it was more difficult to apply in practice, and it’s heartbreaking that Basira couldn’t help but hope that a positive outcome was still possible:

(MAG179) BASIRA: Daisy, stop! Please. ARCHIVIST: [WHIMPER] [DAISY’S SPEECH IS LOW AND GUTTURAL, EXPRESSED WITH DIFFICULTY THROUGH A JAW UNFAMILIAR TO HUMAN WORDS – SOME CONSONANTS ELONGATED, SOME VOWELS SLURRED] DAISY: [AROUND A MOUTHFUL OF ARCHIVIST] … Basiraaa? BASIRA: Oh, god. Daisy… […] She knows who I am! She recognises me. MARTIN: B–Basira! BASIRA: Daisy, come back to us. You can come back. Please… […] Daisy, please… Jon, can you… Can you do anything? DAISY: Basiiira… ARCHIVIST: [BREATHLESS] I’m sorry, I told you, she’s… she’s too deep. I can’t do anything, not without killing her…! BASIRA: [PLEADINGLY] Daisy. It’s me. Come on, please…

And I HATE THAT I COULDN’T HELP BUT HOPE, TOO, GDI!!! Because Daisy was still listening (in a way) to what Basira was saying, since she released Jon, and since we had cases where it had been possible to bring someone back from the clutch of a Fear (Jon had managed to save Martin from The Lonely by making him “see” him, after all), so I couldn’t help but hope for something of the same kind… even though Daisy had been involved in The Hunt for almost her entire life, and had warned that returning to it would mean her end, and that Jon had explained in the previous episode that no, he couldn’t do anything to save her ;_;

- Crying about how even before Basira explained what Daisy was offering, there was a double-meaning in what she was saying:

(MAG179) DAISY: Basiraaa… C–come… Come on… BASIRA: … What? DAISY: Come. Got to… get them! […] DAISY: Partner. C–come. [STATIC RISES, FAINTLY] BASIRA: … Oh. I see. MARTIN: What? BASIRA: She… She wants me to join her. In the Hunt. MARTIN: What…? Could… Is that even possible? BASIRA: … Yes. I can… feel it. In the blood. ARCHIVIST: [WEAKLY] Basira…

Was it “Come on” as in “fulfil your promise and kill me”, or “come to me / kill them with me”? AND IT WAS THE SECOND ONE, GODSDAMNIT!!

- Extremely curious about Basira’s static: was it a trace of Beholding allowing her to know? Was it the call of The Hunt? Did it only happen because of Daisy and Basira’s connection? Did it only happen because they were each other’s “anchor”, in a very twisted and bittersweet way (just like Colin&Derek in the statement, the thing stabilising and saving you… and the think that can also drag you down and under)?

I’m not surprised that Basira had the potential in her to answer the call of The Hunt (down to hearing the Blood): she behaved like a Hunter in season 4 especially, and was on Daisy’s trail for all of this season, after all. But I’m sobbing about how instead of saving Daisy, the other possible outcome would have been for Basira to fall into The Hunt’s clutch, too – that until the end, there was still this echo of Basira and Daisy being “partners”, being identified as such by everyone:

(MAG082) MARTIN: I… I’m making a statement. Isn’t that what you want? My statement? DAISY: No. I just need you to answer the question. MARTIN: Oh. Okay. I mean, y–you wanted a statement last time. About… it was… when I found Gertrude. Or at least your partner did. […] ELIAS: And then they don’t ask any questions, as long as you keep it far away from official police channels. Except your partner leaving has made you sloppy. No notes, no proper interrogations, no back-up of any sort.

(MAG088) MARTIN: Well, I’m sure your partner will find him; I just hope she’s not as– BASIRA: No, I need to find him now! You’re sure you don’t know where she is?

(MAG092) ELIAS: She’s quite the killer, your partner. All in the public good, of course.

(MAG112) BASIRA: How about you? DAISY: Elias is… keeping me busy. Hunting. Takes a while. [FALTERS] I’m used to working… with a partner. … It’s fine. BASIRA: Daisy… DAISY: It’s fine. BASIRA: Right. … But it’s not, though, is it? […] DAISY: Fine. … Maybe you could ask Elias if you can join me on a case?

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: I think Basira is the same, she’s coming along to back-up Daisy, or so she says. I–I, I don't quite get those two, I suppose. What they’ve done, seeing what they’ve seen… It’s a hell of a bond. The sort of thing I’ve mostly done alone. […] BASIRA: But at least Daisy’s coming along. I mean… I know she’s… difficult. Everything they say about her, it’s true, it’s fair. But… she’s solid. She’s a fixed point. And if she’s there, I know exactly where I stand, exactly what I’m doing relative to her. She has no doubts. We go in, we plant bombs, we leave we blow it all to hell. Or, we die. I don’t think I’ll ever have clarity like that. Despite everything she’s done, she’s… she’s still the best partner I ever had.

(MAG142) DAISY: When Basira and I were partners, I’d see this happen sometimes. She can read a… situation like no one I know, always seems to know the right move, but for all her research, she never wants to put a plan together. I think she just hates all the unknowns, the… variables. [SIGH] Contingencies. If she spots an advantage, she’ll… grab it, and trust herself to figure out the details as she goes.

… but in the negative way. When it comes to Basira&Daisy as a relationship, there is something extremely sad in the fact that they never managed to have the willingness to improve and “be better” at the same time: Daisy did it in season 4, when Basira was too obsessed with trying to compensate for her powerlessness and refused to hold Daisy accountable for her past actions; and Basira did it, early in her police career when she first thought about quitting, and in season 5 when she finally acknowledged the damage she had caused or allowed to be caused, when it was too late for Daisy.

I wonder if Daisy, as a beast, wasn’t a concentration of her most toxic traits? We know that she was punishing people whom she identified (pre-Coffin) as criminals that had gotten away. Her last attempt to drag Basira with her in this Hunt really feels… like a last attempt to get back the relationship they had as colleagues and partners? She had mentioned that she missed working with Basira, in season 3 (to the point of considering asking Elias to allow them to work on a case together)…

- ;_; Goodbye, Daisy…

(MAG179) BASIRA: I can’t leave her like this, she’s… always had my back. Always. MARTIN: Basira, don’t, please… DAISY: Partner… Come… [MORE FOOTSTEPS] BASIRA: … Not now. Not after everything. DAISY: [IMPATIENT] Basira, now! BASIRA: I… can’t…! DAISY: Basira! [GUNSHOT] [SNARLING] [TWO MORE GUNSHOTS] [DAISY COLLAPSES, DEAD] [THE DISTANT RUMBLE OF MACHINERY CONTINUES] [SILENCE BUT FOR BREATHS] MARTIN: … Basira, I– BASIRA: Shut up. MARTIN: … I’m sorry, I–I know– BASIRA: [DANGEROUSLY] Shut. Up.

* Same as with Daisy’s “Come on”, I got that doubt about whether was Basira’s “I can’t” meant “I can’t kill her”, or “I can’t join her in The Hunt”…

* Basira’s “she’s always had my back” HURT A LOT after Derek’s statement (“When the police came hassling them, he had Colin’s back. When some little dipshit didn’t show the proper respect, he had Colin’s back. When Colin needed someone by his side for a smash and grab, Derek had his back.”)… but it also demonstrated the difference, beautifully: the fact that Basira was now able to say Stop and No when it was going too far, the fact that she refused to keep being complicit.

* Basira rejecting The Hunt felt, to me, like Martin rejecting The Lonely in the house? They had the opportunity to take an “easier” path, less painful, allowing them to forget about the hurt they had suffered… and chose differently.

- Basira shot once, then twice.

So three shots in total.

Was it Alex’s audio revenge for the “Turns out Gertrude was too much of a badass to die from just a single gunshot” debacle. (=> Three bullets in total, but only one at first, and the other two happened, uh, at some point off-tape.)

- Martin exploding the Swear Budget and taking the lead this season if you don’t count per episode but per occurrences! /o/

(MAG179) BASIRA: I… Sure, just… let him go. [LOW SNARL FROM DAISY, THEN RELEASES THE ARCHIVIST] ARCHIVIST: [COLLAPSES WITH A GRUNT] MARTIN: Oh, Jon! Oh shit, shit–shit–shit! Okay, okay, okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. [MARTIN BEGINS FIRST AID] ARCHIVIST: Ah, ah, ah…! MARTIN: I’m sorry! Sorry! Sorry, you j–, you need to keep pressure on that leg while I, I sort this, hum…

(SOB ABOUT MARTIN’S “I got you”… also paralleling Colin&Derek (“I got you.” That’s what Colin had always said to him when they were kids. And he had always meant it. When Derek needed somewhere to stay when his dad was on the warpath: “I got you.” When Derek needed a little something to take the edge off: “I got you.” When the lifeless body of Derek’s father lay at the bottom of the stairs, limbs folded around the cricket bat he had hit him with: “I got you.”) On so many levels, it really feels like relationships can so easily become twisted and mutually toxic, or pushing people towards worse; the main difference we saw with Jon and Martin is that, meanwhile, they’ve actively communicated and tried to be better for each other, and navigate around principles, but it feels so easy to tip over the line…)

- Crying over Basira hours:

* It was a Desolation domain; the case that got her Sectioned (which stopped her from resigning when she had been thinking about it, and reinforced her ties with Daisy) had been a Desolation incident. (MAG043) Talking about loss, and Basira closing a chapter…

* … The event that directly led her to signing away her freedom to the Institute had been her saving Jon from Daisy (MAG091). When they reunited, out of anger, she said that she regretted having saved Jon back then (MAG177: “I should’ve known, I… I should’ve just let Daisy take you out at the start.”), and yet… she saved him from Daisy once again. This time by killing her.

- CRYING OVER JON HOURS:

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: Is it… Is it awful that I wish she’d recognised me? MARTIN: Daisy? ARCHIVIST: Yeah. I mean, she was… We were friends there, sort of, near the end. We went through so much and it just… I wish I could have actually said goodbye. MARTIN: Would it have made you feel any better about any of it? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know. Maybe? It’s hard to know how I feel about… anything these days. [SILENCE] MARTIN: We said our goodbyes to Daisy after the institute. This was just… This was just dealing with all the stuff she left behind. ARCHIVIST: … I suppose.

… I’m not so sure that she hadn’t recognised him. Amongst the three of them, it’s him that Daisy… so she might have been identifying him as “prey/criminal/monster who got away”… ;_;

I’m glad (AND SAD) that Jon acknowledged the fact that they had grown close in season 4, THAT THEY WERE “FRIENDS”, and heartbroken that he… is indeed hit by the lack of closure.

But what about Basira? True, Daisy “recognised” her, but it was… to try and drag her along into her monstrous life. As far as last words go, Basira did get a kind of goodbye, however:

(MAG158) DAISY: [PANTING] Mm, Basira… When this is over, you need to find me… and kill me. Promise me. BASIRA: No. No, Daisy, we’ll figure something out! NOT!SASHA: [IN THE DISTANCE] You can’t hide forever, Jon. DAISY: [PANTING] These last months, I… it was always borrowed time. Can’t outrun it forever. BASIRA: Daisy… DAISY: [PANTING] Promise me. BASIRA: … I promise. DAISY: Thanks. [BREATHLESS] Now, run…! BASIRA: Daisy…! DAISY: [GROWLING] Run!

Compared to Jon:

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: What…? No! I– BASIRA: Don’t argue, just go. NOT!SASHA: [IN THE DISTANCE] Jooo–oooon~? ARCHIVIST: … Fine. Just don’t die. DAISY: Go.

… Or even worse, Martin:

(MAG144) MARTIN: Just leave. DAISY: Sorry? MARTIN: [INHALE] Get out. DAISY: Oh. Right. Sorry, I didn’t– MARTIN: It’s not difficult! Just get out! DAISY: Fine. … Fine. Just thought you– MARTIN: No! No, you didn’t! [DOOR OPENS] We’re not… we’re not friends, Daisy! None of us are! We’re all just trapped together, here, and–and kidding ourselves that we don’t hate it! Christ, there are more important things than, than “feelings”– DAISY: [INCREDULOUS EXHALE] MARTIN: –right now, all right, so just… leave me alone! For good! [SILENCE PUNCTUATED BY AGGRESSIVE WRITING] DAISY: … Right. You got it.

I mean. Martin and Daisy only had One Good ConversationTM, but Martin. Martin, please. It was blatantly to protect Daisy from Peter, but your last words to her had basically been telling her to fork off. 

- I feel like Martin might be trying to compartmentalise now but about to shatter soon, because… he had mentioned being happy at the prospect of “helping” their “friends” back in MAG175. I agree that in Daisy’s case, helping and leading Basira to fulfil her promise was the best they could hope for, but it’s still… absolutely grim. Since they left the cabin, they’ve not helped victims, not even children, they’ve discovered that Jon’s powers were incredibly powerful but also making him “worse”, they’ve helped Basira to kill Daisy and… that’s it. Jon had told Martin that there was no “better” in this world, and it’s hard to disagree, with how things are right now.

Is Martin still firmly believing that the Institute will be different, that they can do something to help? Or will he grow a bit more desperate? Susceptible to Annabelle’s call, or to try to contact her to accept her “help” because he feels like their options are dwindling…?

- Oh, about Jon getting patched up…

(MAG179) [A BAG IS UNZIPPED] MARTIN: Come on. I need to patch that leg up properly, the last thing we need is a limp slowing us down. ARCHIVIST: [GRUNTS AND GASPS] MARTIN: Of course, that’s assuming the bandages haven’t transformed into snakes or something. ARCHIVIST: [DISTRACTED] Hmm? No, they’re, they’re fine. MARTIN: I’d forgotten we had them to be honest. I packed them before I realised what a celebrity you were out here…! ARCHIVIST: [DRY CHUCKLE]

* ;_; Parallel to their first “heart-to-heart talk”, in MAG039: when Jon had been wormed, specifically in his leg, and Sasha and Martin took care of it…

* Martin remembers the not!tea from the trailer, uh. (He was also the only one to read a statement involving snakes-like spooky creatures!)

* … Martin, that’s a lot of thread-like things you’re carrying or mentioning this season:

(MAG162) MARTIN: And, I found some rope in the attic, and I packed that with the maps.

(MAG178) MARTIN: … Yeah. I guess. [INHALE, EXPLOSIVE EXHALE] God, I hate all of these… loose ends…! ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry. MARTIN: It’s, it’s fine. [INHALE] We’ll just have to tie them all up in one go! ARCHIVIST: Hm? MARTIN: [SIGH] Around Elias’s neck.

(MAG179) MARTIN: Of course, that’s assuming the bandages haven’t transformed into snakes or something. […] I’d forgotten we had them to be honest. I packed them before I realised what a celebrity you were out here…!

This is how Web!Martin can still w-

(Though, genuinely, I’m a bit… suspicious that Martin hadn’t mentioned them until now and had “forgotten” he had them, and that Jon was ~distracted~ when he was talking about them? Had Martin really packed them before they left the cabin, or is that something he packed later during the journey, without noticing, such as when he was in the Web domain…?)

- THIRD big red flag regarding Jon’s powers in the episode:

(MAG179) MARTIN: I, I was starting to think I’d never need them. I’m surprised she could hurt you at all…! ARCHIVIST: Yes, that… came as a bit of a shock to me as well, actually…! MARTIN: You didn’t know? ARCHIVIST: I didn’t think to check, just, sort of… assumed it was safe. MARTIN: That’s a pretty big assumption, Jon! ARCHIVIST: Hmm, apparently. I mean, I know it sounds strange but it… it… felt right for Daisy to be able to hurt me. MARTIN: Dream logic again? ARCHIVIST: Mmm. The… “resonances” from our relationship before the Change carried over and– Ah! Ah…! MARTIN: Hold still.

… A clear limitation in his pseudo-omniscience/all-knowledge is that he can… still assume (incorrect) things. That’s pretty big, as far as his knowledge goes: this means he has to actively think about checking things before they happen. What more may have gone under his radar already…?

* I’m not sure specifically why Daisy was able to hurt him. Jon had explained that:

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: No one gets what they deserve. Not in this place. They just get whatever hurts them the most! … Even me.

Was it because she had hurt him so deeply in the forest, reviving that pain? Was it because they used to be friends, and Jon knew he was going to lose her, and only people Jon cares about can hurt him? Was it because of the mix of trauma&friendship, specific to her, that Daisy was bring with her?

* SOB over the fact that Daisy hurt him AGAIN… and had given him his Hunt mark in the forest… It wasn’t the first time they had interacted, but…

* Given the amount of things that run on dream-logic, and given how the Fears interact with their victims, it really feels like humans are both subjected to the Fears and shaping the world, themselves? I wonder if they’ll get some agency back through “feels right” logic, or if even that would get denied since, well, the Dread Powers work through pain and suffering, not… to help in anything.

* … Martin, please, was it accidental or did you squeeze hard because Jon was mentioning having an Important Relationship with someone else. (MARTIN BLEASE…)

- ;_; I’m not extremely surprised by Basira closing up and needing to do her mourning/to find her closure on her own… but it still breaks my heart so much, in the way she alternated between trying to be firm and dry, and pleading:

(MAG179) BASIRA: I’m… going to stay here. Burn the body. ARCHIVIST: Of course, we can wait. I still need to, uh… BASIRA: No. You go on. I’ll make my own way to London. [A BAG IS ZIPPED] MARTIN: … What? N–no, don’t be daft, it’s not a problem for us to wait while you deal with this! BASIRA: Please. Just go. MARTIN: … Wait… Seriously? ARCHIVIST: Basira, if you travel on your own, if you’re not with us, I… can’t guarantee your safety. BASIRA: Good. MARTIN: Basira, getting yourself hurt isn’t going to help anyone. BASIRA: It’s just… something I have to do. … You said follow the tower, right? ARCHIVIST: Right. MARTIN: No, no, this is ridiculous, you could die! BASIRA: I’ll do my best not to. MARTIN: This isn’t a joke, Basira! ARCHIVIST: Martin, this is what she needs. MARTIN: No, no! I–it’s…! BASIRA: It’ll… MARTIN: It’s completely– BASIRA: It’ll help me. All going well, I’ll meet you both in London. He’ll know where to find me. […] [SOFTLY] Martin. Please. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … [SIGH] You’d better look after yourself. BASIRA: I will. ARCHIVIST: [GENTLY] Come on. [FOOTSTEPS] [INHALE] For what it’s worth… I’m sorry it had to work out like this. BASIRA: … I’m not.

* Confirmation that Jon seems to have been protecting Martin and her from the domains’ influence so far, as long as they stayed close to him?

* “Basira, getting yourself hurt isn’t going to help anyone.” => mix of “who’s talking.” and “MARTIN. HAS. LEARNED!” (It’s what he did all through season 4 ;w; He knows that from personal experience…)

* I’M HAVING FEELINGS over that tiny Martin-Basira soft moment… gosh… (I’m remembering how Basira had been very cautious and defensive of Martin when she had explained to Jon that Martin had had a bad time… because he had lost his mother, at the beginning of season 4, and how she had clearly seen that it had impacted him… She was often harsh towards him, but she wasn’t heartless…)

* So Panopstitute is now a shared goal AND the point where they will supposedly meet up.

* Overall: I want to believe that Basira will be okay on her own journey, aaaaaaaaaah ;_; Clearly in pain, but I want to hope that she’ll be fine on her own, and getting a bit better…

* Proud of Jon for explicitly asking Basira’s permission to watch/know about her ;_; Consent! (And he’s worried, too!)

* I wonder if Jon’s leg was truly healing, as he claimed, since we didn’t hear static that would suggest a supernatural healing speed? It is truly getting better, or is he hiding the pain and injury since they have to leave now? (… Given the overall dream logic, I would almost expect the injury to not heal as long as Jon doesn’t truly process Daisy’s death, but we’ll see.)

* Sob for how Basira&Jon joked about his apologising too much… and the episode ended with Jon apologising over what had happened.

- H… Hey… Daisy was officially an Archival Assistant since season 4, since she had signed the contract in order to get rid of the dreams… So the curse of “one Assistant dies every odd-numbered season” has already been fulfilled, right…? So there doesn’t need to be any more death in the team this season, right? So there won’t be another Assistant death ever, unless Jonny writes a season 7, RIGHT…?

- Goodbye Daisy ;_; You were amazing in season 4, I couldn’t help but still cross fingers that there was a sliver of hope to get you back once again, and I’m SAD for you (and for Basira), and I hope that you can finally “listen to the quiet” again ;___;

Time to relisten to season 4 and think about you making Jon listen to The Archers.

I’m TwwwwT super sad (in a good way) about Jon lamenting that he would have liked to be able to say his goodbyes to Daisy, and acknowledging that they had been close (“FRIENDS”!!!), kinda hoping that the page is not turned (and-then-we-never-talked-about-Daisy-ever-again) but that instead the loss will cling to them a bit and that there will be Sadness about it. It’s… still a death, it’s still a loss, it’s still something that hurt and stung! ;w;

- … I feel like there might have been some implication contained within the fact that they agreed to kill Daisy in the current circumstances…? Jon said that he couldn’t do anything for her anymore because she was “too deep” in; but they chose to do it now, meaning that… she couldn’t have got better when/if they manage to turn the world back and stop the apocalypse. So either they’ve slowly grown accustomed to thinking that the world can’t get better, either… Daisy wouldn’t have survived anyway if the world were to be “fixed” and freed from the clutch of the Fears. So what does that mean about Jon, who is absolutely deep into Beholding? What would happen to Jon, the Archivist, the Archive, if the world was to be saved? Could he survive a Change Back, or would he just disappear like the Fears?

(- For once, I’m actually a bit surprised at the title since… “Accomplice” worked for the statement, it worked for Basira&Daisy’s relationship as it used to be, but it wasn’t really applying to Basira anymore – this is precisely the episode where she definitely refused to go back to being an “accomplice”. “Partner(s)” had been the word characteristic of Daisy&Basira’s relationship and would have been the title I would have expected for this episode, given their dynamic.

… So instead, it makes me whimp out the red string, and consider that the “accomplice(s)” might not have been the obvious ones. Can’t help but *SQUINT* at Martin this episode, because:

* We know that Basira and Martin talked about something in MAG178 when Jon was giving his statement, and we don’t know the details of it.

(MAG178) MARTIN: –I know, I know you find it hard whe– … Done already? ARCHIVIST: Yes. […] MARTIN: I was just… giving Basira some advice. ARCHIVIST: [GOOD-NATURED] Avatars are from Mars and humans are from Venus, that sort of thing? MARTIN: [TINY CHUCKLE] I mean… yeah? Sort of? ARCHIVIST: [BRIEF CHUCKLE] MARTIN: Well, w–we were pretty much done anyway.

(And in the same way: we don’t know for sure what happened to Martin when he ended up wandering off into The Web’s domain in MAG172. Did he tell Jon the whole story about it? Or did something happen that he managed to hide?)

* Last few episodes have been extremely insistent in reminding us that Jon is making active efforts to not look into Basira’s and Martin’s heads at all:

(MAG177) BASIRA: … What’s it like? Being with someone who can see the inside of your head? MARTIN: Hm? Oh! Oh no, he doesn’t. I told him not to, and so he tries to… look away? BASIRA: And you trust him to do that. MARTIN: [DECISIVE] Yes. I do. […] BASIRA: [ANGRY] I told you not to look in my head! ARCHIVIST: I didn’t. And I won’t.

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Yes. [INHALE] Talking about me? BASIRA: … I assume that’s a rhetorical question. ARCHIVIST: I am trying to keep my powers to myself.

(MAG179) BASIRA: I am. [BASIRA TAKES AIM AGAIN, HESITATES AGAIN] Would you stop staring at me like that?! ARCHIVIST: Like what? BASIRA: Like you’ve looked inside my head, and you don’t like what you see. ARCHIVIST: If that’s an accusation, then you’re wrong. I don’t do that. [FEASTING SOUNDS STOP] BASIRA: Right. Like you’re suddenly given infinite power and no consequences, and that’s when you decide to start respecting people’s privacy. ARCHIVIST: Is that really so hard to believe? […] BASIRA: All going well, I’ll meet you both in London. He’ll know where to find me. ARCHIVIST: So, you won’t mind if I check up on you sometimes? BASIRA: If you must! But don’t overdo it. I don’t like being watched. ARCHIVIST: Understood.

* Martin was mostly fine about the concept of betraying the trust of someone you like and care for, as long as it’s in ~their best interest~:

(MAG176) ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] I don’t like betraying someone’s trust like this. MARTIN: It’s not a betrayal if you’re doing it to help. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I’m not so sure…! MARTIN: Look, if it was me in her shoes, I’m sure I’d forgive you. It–it’s for the best!

* Jon’s joke about “Methinks the Spider doth protest too much…!” (MAG167) when Martin asked him not to look inside his head… reminds me of the way the gang managed to convince Elias that it was in his best interest for Martin not to come along to the Unknowing, in MAG116: Martin’s offense and protests were staged in order to make it pass as innocuous that he would stay behind at the Institute; Jon asked for Martin to stay, but they needed Elias to feel like it was partly his own decision, hence Martin’s protests. Back then, we didn’t know that Elias had made a bet with Peter (so it’s unclear whether he was factoring in Jon potentially dying and his need for a back-up, or if it was mostly motivated by the fact that Martin had to stay alive in order to set up Jon’s Lonely mark), but the situation still is very reminiscent of the end of MAG179: character A makes a decision, Martin protests and tries to argue, until character B steps in to validate A and Martin has to agree with the others… about something that was A’s and his plan from the start. It’s basically Martin’s modus operandi, that he also used to make Elias focus in him in MAG118 (spilling his frustrations and pains) and to keep Peter’s attention on him during season 4 (genuinely wanting to stop The Extinction, being susceptible to The Lonely, but not wanting to serve Peter’s plans). Always mixing his genuine feelings in with some deception, to hide his endgame intentions.

… So what if, in the same way, Basira&Martin’s little opposition here had been staged because they needed Basira to be out of Jon’s radar for a while, and for Jon to feel like that was natural…?

(Obligatory disclaimer: I don’t believe that Martin is secretly evil or working against Jon; if Martin is currently plotting something, I really think it would because he needs Jon to not know about it (because of Jon’s status as the lynchpin of the apocalypse and The Eye’s favourite), and/or because it will require Martin to take risks and he knows that Jon would protest that. Overall, it’s surprising that, for now, Martin doesn’t explicitly have a plan – he’s been following Jon and seems to be focusing all his hopes on the Panopticon – while he used to be planning and scheming so easily before. So what if there was actually something currently in progress, in the blind spot of Jon’s vision and near-omniscience…?))

- Anyway, the points that Jon is not looking into Basira’s nor Martin’s heads, that he is distracted when talking with someone or giving a statement (… really reminiscent of Basira in season 3 explaining how Elias wasn’t able to focus on anyone and anything else when using his powers to traumatise Melanie, uh…), and that he can assume things that end up working out differently (so can think erroneously as long as he hasn’t thought to Know about it and asked the good questions to his pool of knowledge)… definitely feel like something about this is going to come back to bite them in the ass later. ;;

I have HIGH HOPES for EMOTIONAL PAIN with MAG180’s title! =D I’m thinking about grief and mourning – could be the occasion to get an episode a bit like MAG167, Jon “giving the statement” of people from before the Change? Maybe not even solely about Daisy, but about all the assistants&friends (Sasha, Tim, Gerry, Daisy) they have lost since signing up for the Archives? Or Jon and Martin thinking about the kind of internal/emotional/psychological journey they have to accomplish in order to reach the Panopticon, whether or not there is something preventing them from reaching it, in the same way that Basira had to face Daisy’s crimes and “see the monster” to be able to catch up to her?

If there is a domain: Vast and Buried could work in a very physical sense, End could fit too…

[thegreenwolf]

Note: This post was originally posted on No Unsacred Place in 2011, and then later Paths Through the Forests. I have reposted it to my personal blog at http://www.thegreenwolf.com/blog so I can have more of my writings in one place.

When I’m making artwork, I often enjoy having some music or video going on that I can listen to and watch while I work. The other day I finished up watching Carl Sagan’s Cosmos: A Personal Voyage, which I’ve been watching segments of over the past couple of weeks. For those who haven’t seen it, it is an epic, thirteen-hour-long exploration of the Universe we live in, from the atomic level to the entirety of everything, ranging from the Big Bang itself all the way up to the present day. In each of the hour-long segments, Sagan touches on many diverse sciences, as well as history, sociology, psychology, and other disciplines. He puts into layperson’s terms the processes of evolution, the geologic history of the Earth, and the origin of life on this planet and even of the Universe itself.

What I found most invaluable, though, was how the series gives us perspective of where we fit into the grand scheme of things. Until not too long ago, most cultures had a very human-centric view of reality, where we were at the core, and everything revolved around us in importance. Cosmos is both beautiful and controversial because it shows us how very small we are, but also what amazingly intricate and long-lived processes we are an integrated part of. There were many times throughout the series where I was reminded of just how impossibly vast the Universe is, how very tiny the Earth is, and yet also how we ourselves, and everything else, are made of stars–and just how unlikely was the chance that we and everything else on Earth are here today. As humbling as it is to realize just how tiny our “pale blue dot” is, Cosmos also dedicates time to showing what does make us, as a species, so significant in our knowledge of the Universe. As Sagan said in the introduction to the series, “We are a way for the Cosmos to know itself”.

This is simultaneously humbling and inspirational. Much of human religion and spirituality is so heavily anthropocentric our spiritual cosmologies are largely concerned with the interest the Universe and its denizens have in us, and most of our deities are created in our very human image. Many of us never get further than “Earth” and “Sky” as the primordial, “biggest” concept-deities, because that’s how our ancestors understood it to be.* The celestial bodies we most acknowledge are the Sun and the Moon and our closest planetary cousins, but even astrology primarily concerns itself with how the positions of the stars and planets are important to us humans. And yet the Earth, and the visible parts of the Sky, are minute compared to the immensity they, and we, are a part of. It’s humbling because we find more and more that humans are far from the most important collections of stardust, and also inspiring because with every new discovery in biology, in astrophysics, and in so many other disciplines, there’s so much more we can know and explore about Life, the Universe, and Everything, even as laypeople.

I have, over the years, heard pagans and other such folk complain that there’s no real magic in this world, simply because we can’t do things like shoot fireballs from our fingertips or physically shapeshift or heal life-threatening illnesses with a touch. And yet Cosmos is a perfect illustration of the magic that is inherent to this physical reality. Look at evolution, for example. It is not just the “survival of the fittest”, as many oversimplify it. Rather, it is a many-generations-long progression of tiny shifts and alterations, and somehow one ancestral being has offspring which, over millenia, branch off into many diverse creatures. The phylogenetic Tree of Life is full to overflowing with living and extinct beings that are fascinating, beautiful, and inspirational simply by being themselves, without layering on subjective meaning like totemic lore or other symbolism. Or, on a smaller scale, I like to think about photosynthesis. The chloroplasts in plant cells, which are likely derived from cyanobacteria that formed symbiotic relationships with primitive plant cells, take sunlight and turn it into food. All the food we eat is created from sunlight changed into sugars by photosynthesis–we are eating transformed light waves**. How are these things not magical and miraculous, especially the more we know about them?

Cosmos is a massive journey through many of these manners in which star-stuff has formed over billions of years, and I can’t but think of it as revealing why the physical reality I live in is sacred. “Sacred” means “to inspire awe or reverence”, and with each new piece of knowledge about the Universe I acquire, the more deeply I feel that sacredness. Mythos and folklore and divine inspiration are great and beautiful things in the sphere of human experience, but if we are to understand the roots of those experiences, we need to dig into the (sometimes literal) dirt where those roots are grounded.

I think, perhaps, Cosmos could be in and of itself a ritual tool. Thirteen hours is a long time, and while most pagan rituals last an hour at best, there’s also something to be said for an immersive experience. So here’s a suggestion, whether you’ve seen this series in its entirety already or not: Set aside an entire day where you can be undisturbed, either alone, or with other interested, curious and respectful parties. Get comfortable. And then watch Cosmos from beginning to end. (Take breaks for the bathroom and food as needed, of course, but keep them short.) It will be a lot of information, and you may wish to go back at a later time and watch it over again in smaller segments. But this time, simply open yourself to the flow of information, and see how it affects you and your understanding of the Universe.

It may seem odd, on this nature-spirituality-themed blog, to suggest such long immersion in media. Yet not all media is created equal, and this series is much more information about the Universe than what we can immediately observe on our own, condensed into a few hours. Sitting in front of a television won’t show you the spirit of the land where you live, but it can offer you so much more backstory on its geology and biology and ultimate origin than you could get by watching the denizens of the land interact. It’s a complement to direct experiences with nature, not a replacement, and I see it as inspiration to make more forays out of our homes and into the world around us–and, perhaps, to support more exploration beyond where we can currently go. To know about evolution is one thing, but even scientists best appreciate it when they are able to actually see the plants and animals that resulted. (In fact, some of the most glorious marvels written about nature have been penned by scientists, not about things going on in laboratory settings, but our fellow beings in their own habitats–or the habitats themselves.)

Whether you choose to immerse yourself in a thirteen-hour marathon, or take Cosmos in multiple smaller doses, I encourage you to take what you learn and apply it to your experiences in the world around you. I know for myself that having more of the story has enriched my hikes and rituals outdoors, and I hope this can be a valuable resource for you as well.

* Ancient mythos from various cultures worked with what the people of those cultures knew at the time, with great wisdom but without the benefit of high-powered telescopes and other very helpful technology. 

** We are still unable to shoot fireballs from our fingertips. But isn’t it cool that in a way, through photosynthesis, we can eat fire?

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[chloe-clegane]

My Devotion and Mah Protection - Chapter 6

We This Night Are Bound As One

AO3

Prev Chapter

Next Chapter

Dress Illustration 

Music

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Callum could feel himself sweating as he muttered the script to himself. Any moment now, he would be walking up onto that platform and performing a sealing ritual. The anxiety had him wishing he could crawl out of his skin.

Ezran cocked his head to one side and made a face. “Callum, you look like you’re going to vomit, then pass out from not breathing, and then maybe vomit again.” His aunt backed up his brother’s statement and signed for him to take deep breaths.

He did as he was told and tried to match his inhale and exhales to the pace of her hand gliding up and down, up and down.

“Ok better, wow that helped. How much longer? I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning. Ezran, look around the henge. S-she’s there right? She wouldn't change her mind right?”

The more Callum spoke the more the anxiety moved back into his voice.

“Noooooo,” his brother whined. “She hasn’t changed her mind. I think now we’re just waiting on the music and lights. So any minute?”

Amaya agreed with Ezran again signing, “ Yes , she loves you, and she’s right over there. So just take calming breaths.” She continued to coax inhale-exhale motions.

“Cool, cool, cool as a cucumber, so cool.” Callum failed to convincingly be cool. He instead went back to muttering all the steps and words of the ritual while rocking on his heels. There was no officiant for the ceremony, and he was determined not to make an ass of himself.  

The drums of the Moonshadow Druids started to beat softly and the soft glowing orbs began to float from between the towering stones. His aunt squeezed his shoulder one more time and Callum took another deep breath as he got into position, standing behind his aunt and brother. They passed through the great stone pillars and approached the circle. The drums grew louder with every step they took. Callum’s view was partially obstructed by his aunt’s height, but he could still see over his thirteen-year-old brother. He looked over and spotted Ethari stepping up into the light opposite them, Rayla was completely blocked from view behind him.

The family of three took their final steps to the edge of the platform and the deafening drumming fell silent, creating a vacuum. Ezran, in his most regal voice began speaking, his aunt signed in unison. “We are kin to Prince Callum of Katolis, we deliver him this night to be wed.”

They both stepped to either side and Callum took a step forward. As he turned back, they handed him an intricately woven silk band. He let out the breath he was holding and took the last two steps up to the outer ring. Callum went through a list in his head: smile, stand up straight, breathe, don’t lock my knees, close my mouth, breathe. Breathe.

He was fully in the light of the clearing and orbs bounced on the perimeter resembling swirling fireflies. But the main source of light was the moon itself. Somehow it seemed bigger and brighter here at the Nexus.

Ethari’s voice, much like Ezran’s, was puffed up and projected, but retained its usual gentleness. “I am kin tae Rayla of the Silvergrove, Daughter of Tiadrin and Lain, I deliver her this night tae be wed.” He stepped aside and Callum’s entire don’t look like an idiot checklist went out the window.

She was radiant.

Everything about her was otherworldly, she was the most beautiful creature that ever lived and Callum would fight anyone who tried to disagree. Not only was she beautiful, but she was also smiling at him, a perfect, pure smile. He saw her eyes and they were on him, and only him. She looked like the definition of love.

At this point, Callum knew he must look ridiculous, a wide smile spread across his face. She turned momentarily and his heart almost broke from the deprivation of her beauty. Divine countenance. Ethari handed her two rings and hugged her. She kissed his cheek. When she looked at Callum, she glided into the illuminated circle the demure sweet smile changed. Suddenly Callum had to ask himself, is that how goofy I look? But he realized that blushing wide smile, the one where she looked like she was going to squeal at any moment, was better. She wasn’t just some ethereal goddess, she was his steadfast weirdo goddess, his Rayla. And in that dress, he wanted to worship at her altar. Hard.

Her dress was fitted close to her body, the skirt flowed in pleats with slits from the hip on either side. The slits were high enough for him to be very excited but low enough to be tasteful. The collar was high with a cut out above the bust, there were band-like sleeves on her arms but her shoulders were bare .The dress was covered in beading that coruscated in the light, the whole dress was white in the human style.

Callum had expected to see intricate braids, but her hair was simple. Beautiful. Topped with a moon opal hairpiece connecting a web of crystal and silver glittering beads woven between her horns, one strand hung across her brow like a tiara. As she moved her head the beads swayed and reflected light.

She knocked him out of his reverie by shooting him her trademark ‘pay attention you big dumb human’ face. She subtly emphasized that fact her arms were up in position. Even her annoyed looks were perfect, absolutely divine. He lifted his arms and they shared a smile and a deep breath in unison. They began to dance, accompanied by the clear cascading sound of a harp. They dance around the circle and then into each other’s arms. As soon as they touched he had to resist the urge to kiss her right away and from the look on her face, Callum could only assume she was fighting a similar urge. She stroked his hand with her thumb and they shared another breath.

“I, Prince Callum of Katolis, come to pledge my abiding love to you, Rayla of the Silvergrove. I promise my devotion, my respect, and my generosity. I vow to fortify you in adversity and honor you in your triumphs. I will cherish and adore you and swear my loyalties to you and our kin from now until my dying day. Rayla, will you take me?

“I do.” Her answer was clear and confident. He took the ring meant for her and slipped it onto her middle finger. This was strictly a human tradition but she had been happy to include it and excited to wear it. She told him she liked the idea of showing him off even if it was just with one finger. Her violet eyes were glassy and he squeezed her hand before she started her speech. “I, Rayla of the Silvergrove, accept your pledge and offer mah own fierce love in return. I promise you mah protection, mah appreciation, and mah affection. I vow to give you honesty in happiness and despair, and to support you in your toils. I will treasure you and love you. I swear mah loyalties to you and our kin from now until my dying day. Callum, will you take me?

She quickly wiped away the few tears she let slip, while he, on the other hand, allowed the tears to roll down his cheeks. Rayla wiped them away herself and cupped his cheek, he leaned into her touch and projected, “I do.” When she went to slide the ring on his middle finger, he wiggled his ring finger, she blushed and course-corrected.

She was his blushing bride, looking up at him with her glowing lavender eyes. He had to remind himself they weren’t done, all that was left was the ritual portion. Just one more step before he could pull Rayla close and officially be hers, for the rest of their days.

He handed her part of the silk band with the runes woven into the fabric. Together they wrapped the band, loosely attaching themselves to one another. They spoke in unison “Love is the Moon, guiding in the darkness. We this night are joined as kin, we this night are bound as one”.

Again, they danced, moving with the flowing stream of the harp . They had spent hours practicing this dance and when they finished he could hardly believe that he had done it without a single mistake. The goal of the ritual was to complete the steps without tangling the band. They had to move intuitively together, maneuvering as one.

When they struck the last pose they spoke the actual spell, “love bound” in draconic, the silk binding burst into glowing dust that swirled up and dispersed above their heads, like glitter. The sensation of the spell was like nothing he’d ever felt. For just a moment he could feel her heart. It was indescribable.

Now, finally, they threw themselves into each other’s arms. He pulled her face to his and they kissed with vigor. They broke apart and said, “I love you,” simultaneously. He spun her around while they both laughed. The elation he felt at that moment was palpable. All the guests were clapping and from somewhere in the back Soren could be heard howling, “Whoooooo! Yeah! You did it!”

------

Immediately after the ceremony, Rayla and Callum walked hand in hand out of the henge and down the long winding path to the buildings below. Part way, Rayla stopped so she could take the stupid human coin out of her shoe. Callum chuckled and did the same.

“What dae we need lucky riches for anyways? Ye’re a prince, doesn’t that mean you already have that?”

Callum laughed and raised his hands in defense “Hey I didn’t make up the shoe coin thing and anyways It’s supposed to bring prosperity, not just money. I just so happen to think prosperity would be handy for a lot of things.”

Rayla rolled her eyes and smiled at him trying to quickly replace the shoe without halting the train of people “Not convinced. But sure I’ll humor you.” She grabbed his hand as they kept walking. “I’m starvin’, dae you suppose snack prosperity is a thing?”

“Hmmmm,” he pondered, tapping his chin for comedic effect “Should we have put deviled eggs in our shoes then?”

She made a face “Honestly Callum… I think the coin’s’a better idea than that.”

“What about kissing prosperity? That sounds real,” He leaned in and stole one from her lips.

She giggled. “Maybe so, but I’m not kissin’ yer shoes tae find out”.

“Fair, shoes are kind of gross. But hey, I’ll kiss your face! All day, every day, until forever.” He leaned into her and kissed her shoulder and then her cheek.  

“Ugh, yer so cute.” She whined. “Have I said how much I love you today?”

“You know what? I think you might have, in a very formal, magically binding kind of way, if I’m remembering correctly.” he teased.

“Oh yes , that’s right. Hmmm well I’ll still, just fer good measure,” She walked backwards in front of him “I love you Callum.” and then she bit her lip, in the flirty way she knows he loves.

“That’s it. I have to ensure kiss prosperity, I love you too much to risk it.” He lunged for her and she stepped aside. He laughed.

“Oh no, not the kissin’ prosperity! The price is just too high Callum , ” she put the back of her hand to her forehead and gasped dramatically.

“Rayla, you must give me your foot. Kissing prosperity is too important, it’s a price I’m willing to pay. I’m very serious” He was not very serious.

“Yer going tae have tae catch me first, you filthy human!” She turned and bolted away with a skip in her step.

“Hey! That’s filthy ‘husband’ to you,” he pointed at her indignantly before he chased her down the path, both of them cackling like idiots.

When they arrived at the bottom of the hill, she allowed him to jokingly kiss the top of her foot. But then he took advantage of the slit in her skirt and kissed his way up to her knee. Setting it down quickly, the line of party guests started to catch up with them. She didn’t think kissing prosperity would be an issue, because she had already lost count of them.

At the reception they presented each other with the elven wedding bands. Callum slid the cuffs onto her horns and then lifted her chin to kiss her sweetly. It made her knees weak. She was a big bad warrior that could be brought down with just those green eyes and soft lips. It was a fact about herself she both loved and hated… but mostly loved.

Ethari had thought of a clever solution for Callum’s lack of horns. It had taken a bit of convincing before Callum agreed to let her pierce his ears. A little over a month ago she practically had to sit on his chest so she could get the needle through the cartilage on the stubby round top of his ear. The second ear was much easier once he realized he didn’t need to be such a whiny baby about it. Her eye rolling ran rampant. She fastened the wedding bands as gently as possible. He did much better this go’round only wincing slightly as she placed the two wide cuff earring in the still healing holes. She secured the pin closure and admired her handy work. He was adorable and she loved making their bond so clear to the world. She was so proud to love him.

They kissed again and people ooohed and ahhhhed. It was bizarre to receive so much praise for public displays of affection. Before she could make her way over to the food Callum grabbed her wrist with one hand and pointed at her with the other. And of all things yelled “THAT’S MY WIFE!”

“Woooooo!” Soren yelled in reply. When he released her to walk away, he then high fived his brother.

“What are you-?” She rolled her eyes and chuckled.

The feast was held in the style of her people. Low tables were surrounded with cushions and small portions of food were carried around by illusions. Some of the human guests were confused, used to large banquet tables and huge plates, not everyone grasped the concept. She saw the King of Del Bar take an entire tray of bite-sized meat skewers and then walked around with it, befuddled as if he should take an entire tray of stuffed mushrooms as well. Rayla hid her mirth until she was able to point it out to Ezran and Queen Aanya, there was giggling.

As they walked around greeting guests, people praised her looks or her dancing in the ceremony. Callum would lean into the person, point at her and then say, “that’s my wife.” It was becoming a little ridiculous.

She patted his linked arm “Callum I think they know.”

He shrugged and she rolled her eyes… again. He was a complete mystery to her sometimes. This didn’t seem like some human thing, this just seemed like a goofy Callum thing.

They lounged back on cushions at their private table and fed each other food and cake, kissing between bites. They had picked the menu, and the couple was very pleased with themselves. Rayla checked another box. Snack prosperity seemed to be working, squishy shoe or not. Callum received the deviled eggs he had been pining for all week and she got her stuffed bacon dates. They nibbled happily, enjoying every bite - until Soren used a table as a platform and started clanking a glass.

He cleared his throat loudly. “Excuse me, everyone, excuse me!”

People stopped what they were doing to pay attention. “Hello everyone, thank you. I would like to make a toast.”

“Oh no,” Rayla was filled with sudden dread and pushed on Calum's arm, “go, stop him. Oooooooh no, this is bad.” She moved to get up but her husband’s chuckle stopped her. He spoke softly in her ear, “Aw, come on Rayla, Soren’s our friend! Let’s let him have his moment. I’m sure he’ll say something really sweet.” He kissed her cheek.

“I’m tellin’ you Callum this is not going tae end well,” she hissed. Soren started speaking and she forced her mouth shut, looking on with dread.

“So, I’ve known Callum basically forever. I used to be his sword fighting teacher, and oh boy was he bad at that.” She shot her husband an ‘I told you so’ look. He returned a nervous smile “It’s fine though, now he’s got the magic stuff going for him. Zap hands and all that. My buddy here is really cool.” Callum gave her an apologetic look, maybe it won’t be so bad .

“More importantly I’m glad he’s got Rayla going for him. She’s the best! She’s even cooler than Zap Hands. She’s probably the best thing in his whole life”.

Rayla smirked, he was right about that at least. She was about to breathe a sigh of relief, but then it took a turn for the worst. “The first time I met her, I tried to kill her... while she was sleeping…” aaaaaand the smirk was gone.

There was a very awkward silence, and the blond idiot took another big sip from his glass. It occurred to Rayla that that was not his first big sip and maybe not his first glass either. She tried not to groan out loud.

“So uh anyways, didn’t kill her, for the record. But I guess you already know that - because she’s alive and stuff. But also for the record, I still think the mud in my mouth was kind of a cheap shot,” he laughed at his own memory. “Gross. So yeah, I think we’ve all grown so much as people since then. I still remember Callum as this dweeb who used to fall in the mud all the time. I never would have thought you could get a wife this cool.”  

This time Rayla did groan aloud, and Callum, who originally smiled politely, was now glaring at their friend.

“I don’t think he’s a dork anymore, though. I still feel bad about all those times I used to make fun of him and hurt his feelings. But you know, I really only did it because my dad didn’t love me,” he paused and frowned. He looked down into his empty cup. “I think I just hurt my own feelings…”

Rayla covered her eyes. This was too hard to watch.

There wasn’t a cringe-free face in the crowd. “I feel like I lost the point here a bit. But uh, aren't they just the best though?” Some people nodded in agreement, taking slow bites as they watched the things play out. “Rayla is strong, and really funny, and cool. Callum is so nice and he’s smart and, like I said before. Zap hands. Pew-pew!” He gestured with what appeared to be magic hands. “What I'm trying to say is they’re really awesome and I’m really glad they’re married. Also Callum, you bagged a hottie. I’m proud of you, bud.” He winked.

“Hey, okay ! ” Ezran climbed onto the table beside their friend and patted his back “Soren, that was so... great! Give it up for Soren everyone.” A few people clapped awkwardly.

“Aw, thanks Ez! Oh hey Amaya,” he said as Callum’s aunt reached up to give the big dumb oaf a hand off the table. She then proceeded to guide him to a plate of bready carbohydrates. Rayla figured a few glasses of water wouldn’t hurt either.

Ezran was a natural public speaker soo when he started people listened.

“I’ll keep my speech brief.” He smiled over at Rayla and Callum. “I have the world's best brother. Growing up, he always looked out for me and loved me unconditionally. Well, now he’s given me a sister too and Soren was right, she is so amazing. The best part is, I know my brother has someone who looks out for him, who loves him, and makes him feel special and happy. A partner.” At this point, Callum reached over and took her hand. They shared a smile before turning back. “Rayla, I’m so happy you're my sister and I want you to know I think our parents would have been happy to have you as a daughter. I think they would be as proud as I am to have you in our family. So, everyone, please raise your glasses to Rayla and Callum!”

The whole party raised their glasses and toasted them. Rayla was grateful for Ezran’s smooth recovery from Soren’s debacle.    

The soft music sped up into a lively tune and it was time to dance. Callum laughed as she pulled him onto the dancefloor. When they began to spin and jump, she loved the way it felt, the silk skirt swirling around her and the beads decorating her hair and horns swung and jingled. It was strange to her, feeling beautiful. Rayla had been skeptical of the white dress, she thought having only one color would be boring, but when the dressmaker described the idea for the swirling patterns of beads, it intrigued her. But she wasn’t prepared for the final result, it was stunning. One color became a glistening rainbow in the right light. It was the most elegant thing she’d ever seen. The first time she tried it on she felt like a fish out of water, an ugly duck, she had been terrified she wouldn’t be able to pull it off. But hours before the wedding, when Ethari placed her mother's hair piece on her head, she shed tears. Tears for her mother, tears for

the heirloom, tears of excitement, and tears of overwhelming joy.

She felt like she was floating. Callum watched her dance with a certain look in his eye. It wasn't the licentious prince grin. It was a different look of desire, and it stole her breath away. He wanted her, and she wanted him in return. It wasn’t just the dress that made her feel beautiful, but rather the way he looked at her. He saw her in a way no one ever had, and because of that she was able to see herself in a new way. She couldn’t imagine what her life would be like, what she as a person would be like, without the way he looked at her. He’d told her countless times that she made his life better by just being in it. It was mutual.

Rayla spun again and again, and she met his eyes every time her head came around and the entire world melted away. His hand guided her waist, grazing it and, like the turning of a grindstone, sent sparks across her skin.

When the song finally came to a close, they clung to each other. She held his face in her hands and kissed him and then tucked his hair back “I love you, mah sweet darlin’ Callum. Dae you want tae, uhh,” she gestured off the dancefloor with a jerk of her head. He agreed smiling but when she snuck them past the dancing and all the way out of the bustling party, he seemed confused.

She pulled him just out of sight behind a tree. “I love you so fuckin’ much Callum.” She pressed him against the tree and their tongues spoke passion instead of words. She sighed as he ran his hands up her exposed legs. His hands were warm and wanting. The kissing prosperity was seemingly endless.

When they snuck back a few minutes later, his loving torture knew no bounds. While she danced in a group without him, she completed an acrobatic jump with ease and some of the humans looked very impressed. She was bashful, and she didn’t think much of it, but then Callum from the side of the dance floor got on a table. Why do all the humans keep jumping on tables? she asked herself, frustrated. Then he pointed at her and she muttered, “ Oh no, not again .”

“THAT’S MY WIFE!” he yelled it proudly and laughed. She hid her face in her hands, her cheeks were pink, but she smiled. When she looked up, she narrowed her eyes and shot her uncle a glare. Ethari high-foured Callum as he jumped down. Despite her frequent admonishments over the years that he shouldn’t humor Callum’s human follies, he always did it anyways.

He was too adorable for her to be annoyed with him, not for long anyways. She was too in love with him to feel anything negative about him for long. She pulled him back on the dancefloor after that. The music of the fiddles and drums set a joyful mood. She and Callum took turns dancing with everyone. Rayla even agreed to dance with Soren, who had sobered up a bit. She punched him in the arm when the song ended in revenge. She and Ezran laughed their entire dance - he was terrible at it, but they had a great time. But Rayla did notice Ezran dance with Ellis multiple times, she and bait were his only other partners. Amaya and Janai participated in just one circle dance. It was cute seeing them blush through the steps trying to loosen up. Aanya attempted some of the lifts and jumps and did well, the young queen was always impressing her. Ethari and she danced expertly together. This is what the rest of her life was going to feel like and she was going to enjoy every moment of it.

For a couple more hours, she and Callum ate, danced, toasted, and laughed with their family and friends. The kissing prosperity was prosperous.

Callum held her face and kissed her, “You are my wife,” he whispered. She laughed, giving him a playful shove. It was time to take her sweet revenge. She walked away from him, climbed on top of a table, and yelled into the crowd, pointing for everyone to see and hear, “THAT’S MAH HUSBAND!”  

It was the happiest night of Rayla’s life.

[ekebolou]

New Book Prelude: The Armistice

Okay, I said I would create another blog for this, but I didn’t.  This is sort of a free-story lead in for New Book.  I’ve posted it before.  It’ll be in several parts.  I’m going to post the first chapter of New Book after I get done with this.  Maybe posting will force me to come up with a title.  You may have seen this before, since I’ve posted it before, but the first chapter should be new, I think...

Be warned: Naughty language ahead.  Link to the next part at the bottom of the post.

Anyway, here goes:

The Armistice: Part One

“I will tell you the great secret that so escapes you, muj – a soldier’s life is very simple.”

Each swept their own heavy flap of fabric back to enter the tent, but it was Boera who pushed to the front first – and truly pushed, for a good wager brought a good gathering.  Through a crowd made twice as thick by layers of armor and twice as loud by game, he trailed his dark company by the inexorable and – for his companion – unfortunately irresistible bond of friendship in vast parties. 

“This is what troubles your life – you don’t realize this.”

As they had settled into the front, a hand was instantly flat before him – whose hand, what kind of hand, how did it matter?  Gamely, Boera fished in the purse at his belt and took out few bits, pointing to his chosen contender to place his bet.  It was a fine contender, its shell shiny, its squeaking high and impassioned, and even his sour friend nodded his approval.  “It is only this: Do as you’re told!  And when nobody is telling you to do anything–”

He knelt and gestured down at the elaborately constructed dirt-track circus.  “’Ta! Rev, then you do as you like.”

The rat racers were ready to unleash their steeds; some even had intricately woven leashes, made from filched silver thread and scrounged bits of metal.  These were nothing compared to the finely worked hats perched delicately, even jauntily, between their tiny rodent ears.  One had wings, to match those fixed to the twine holding its turtle shell on! Boera repeated his enthusiastic gesture as the race began, bald tails scraping the ground as the rats scampered down the track.

“No, Boera,” Rev said.

Boera’s enthusiastic gesture wilted.  Rev stepped over his shoulder and walked to the edge of the track.

“I like the little hats, for instance,” Boera tried.  “That’s new.”

“Life is complicated when it’s short.”

“And there is Rev, our shining bright dawn,” Boera rose and stepped away from the crowd. 

“I am,” Rev said, grinning.

Over the objections of seven nations worth of soldiers, Rev took a hunk of cheese from his pocket and tempted one of the competitors away from its circuit around the circus so he could coo and scratch its chin.  The Sathian among the crowd threw their arms up, much as Boera had, while their Erro allies sighed.  The Baathians immediately tried to renegotiate the odds, Sivery as quickly trying to block them.  Felanese, Sulerian, and Tarkesh soldiers all shouted for their race to continue despite this interruption.  The tent, quite beyond the cacophony of rats, filled with the chittering, sliding, bellowing sound of a half-dozen languages mixing in a way that had no meaning to anyone, yet was understood.

Get the fuck out of the way, so we can lose money reasonably!

Shrugging, Rev let the rat down and stood, nodding his head for Boera to follow or not as was his wont.  Boera rolled his eyes, aggrieved at this faithless turn – of course it was against his wishes, but he would follow.

Rev kept his grin; his ears felt empty – nothing jangled, tugged, or rang – but that was what four years’ campaign would do to a man.  Each and every Sivernisat had gone back to their tent and carefully and with much thought removed the heavy bangles piercing their ears and set them aside. It was a grave and serious ritual, completed in a moment, which meant they could commence the labors of peace instead of shouldering the burdens of war. 

They could, for example, construct tiny hats for racing rats, and set odds using an elaborate system of tortoise shells for handicaps.  Or, as Boera would have pointed out, fuck an innumerable host of their former allies and enemies alike.

The labors of peace varied from Sivery to Sivery, Sivernisat and Sivereponet; the earrings were mostly the same.

They shouldered their way out of the tent, through a hole that probably shouldn’t have been in the tent wall.  Of course Boera would follow.  Boera had been his tentmate for the last eight months, since the others had died.

“All of the handicaps will have to be recalculated,” Rev cried, throwing his own hands up.

“Yes,” Borea said, leaning away as they walked, leading despite his implied intention to follow, “you’ve weighted that one with cheese.”

“That’s all it was fit for.”  Ren turned, roughly guessing his next trajectory and angling it to agree with Boera’s.  “Weighting rats.”

“And soldiers,” Boera agreed.

In truth, the cheese was the best cheese they’d had in nearly a year. It was certainly better than starving. Certainly better to have a companion.   Certainly better than the cold. But it was the soldier’s prerogative to complain, and they were still soldiers, if only for as long as the celebration.

As if to deny the cold of their memory, the night was warm, weather neutral as the armistice that gathered them here.  Loud, foreign insects did their best to drown out the celebrating ‘honor guards’ and ‘escorts’ and ‘name-your-dynasty’s-ruler’s vaunted immortals’ – the mighty survivors.  The moon was full and pendulous; the stars glittered under the few faintest wisps of gray-black cloud.  Warm as it was, Boera and Rev passed by numerous bonfires filling the camp, because, so it was: fires and festivals and soldiers and the end of war – warm or not: big, big fires. 

“Rats like soldiers,” Boera said, leaning in close, well aware the conversation had only begun to tiptoe around the actual subject.

“Rats,” Rev replied, “are so much more noble.”

“You were stood up.”

“Stood up!”  Rev threw his hands up, identical to a thwarted Sathian gambler.  Bringing them down, he seized an errant tall stalk of the local grass, not yet beaten down by the young festival, and stuck it in his teeth.

“Stood up,” Boera clucked.

“Almost stood up,” Rev admitted.

Boera nodded sagely.

“Eh...” Rev elaborated.

Boera waited.  A small troop of naked soldiers scampered by, no doubt aiming for the river nearby, by their trajectory going to miss it by some twenty yards.  Either that, or they really wanted to run through the tent that several others had set up to cover a very somber discussion of the philosophy of war and a rousing game of dice.  The chase to the river would be fantastic.

“It just didn’t last very long,” Rev said, tossing down his piece of grass. 

“How could it!”  Boera gestured out at the madness around them.  “How could it!” he repeated, gesturing with a remarkable lack of ambiguity at Rev.

This was not a compliment, but rather a statement of stale disbelief. As this was not the first day of the festival, nor the first day of their tentmate-ship, the conversation had been had long before.

“It’s been so long,” Boera snagged his own piece of grass, whipping Rev in the chest with it before sticking it in his teeth, “since you have let someone fully enjoy your... physique, you have become an infernal expert in the... extraneous arts.”  His gesture was amply illustrative.

“Don’t stress your Sivereponet tongue, Boera, you’ll want to use it later – and who calls those extraneous arts?”  Rev returned with an illustrative gesture of his own.

“Anyone who just wants a simple fuck!” Boera shouted, calling the attention of some thirty reveling soldiers around them.  They focused like hawks, howled like wolves – a few Felanese, by their uniforms, went so far as to queue up.  Rev raised his brows, then his shoulders, then had to glower and close his posture off with an elaborately undiplomatic line of Felanese (or – all the words he knew) to dissuade them. 

“You’d think we’d learned better than to volunteer,” Rev muttered.

“Eh,” Boera shrugged, “for war.  For fucking, why–” and he performed a little triple-step, ending in an elaborate presentation of himself that received scattered applause, “–begin the line here.”

Boera took his bows, and they continued their walk, now directed by his impeccable sense of ‘finding something to do.’  “You are a complex fuck.  You are the Alta-puzzle of fucks.  Scholars for generations will talk about what it takes to actually unlock to combination to your pants.  Actually – no, you’ll just test a man until he spends himself before he can touch you. And that means you’re not a puzzle at all, you’re actually just a choosy bastard.”

They’d had this conversation before.  They paced out its rhythms and responses as they walked, encased in the total silence of uncrowded merrymakers.  Until they got to the important part; call and response.

“You could choose me.”

Rev shook his head.  “The bed moves for lovers, but a wise men stakes down his tent.”

“It’s a fool’s adage, I tell you,” Boera groaned.  “A travesty to believe tentmates should not be lovers.”

“You’ve not yet broken it, and you’ve all the cause in the world.” He lifted a finger to correct himself. “All the character in the world.”

“With but your consent I would.”

Rev gave him a sideways look.  They walked in silence.  Relative silence.  There was a great deal of singing.

“Boera,” Rev said, and waited for his friend’s sly and eager glance. “That is a terrible notion.”

“Yist,” Boera chirped.  “But I, my dear, would consider it a personal achievement to be able to hold out against your extraneous enticements.  How long is the average?  Nevermind – to know would dissolve my dreams – how do you resist?”

Rev laughed, and kept his secrets as Boera entertained him with a series of exceedingly crude gestures.  This ended in another companionable silence while Rev pretended not to notice how Boera nudged, bumped, and directed him with false fronts of fleeting interest in yet-further-away displays of debauchery. It was no issue, until Rev noticed a decided turn in the tone of the slurred singing, a slight change in the way the camp sprawled around them, a different mixing of the colors of fabrics.

“Boera.”

“Mu’ vlastni?”

“Where are we going?”

Responding with only a look, Boera quickened his pace, dragging Rev behind yet again.  After a moment it became clear enough that Boera intended to go into a long tent bedecked with wildly colored flags.  That was part of the strangeness – the way the tents stretched to great lengths rather than peaking like the Erro or draping like the Felanese.

“This is the Baath camp,” Rev hissed.

“So you noticed?”

But Boera didn’t slow down, leaving Rev with little recourse beyond sulking silently in step behind him. 

“What are we doing here?”

“What, you think they’ll kidnap you in the middle of the armistice signing?”  Boera was slightly more delicate with his tone; he made sure to laugh.

“I think we were better off with the rats.”

“You mean back by the Sivereponet?”

“Them and the small rodents in shells.”

Letting himself be mocked was Boera’s concession, and he rounded it off with a laugh and an arm over Rev’s shoulder, bearing him down to have his ear tweaked as if Boera were an extra-heavy earring.  He did not, however, then let Rev go.

Rev’s incredulous and confused expression stood in for many words.

Wordless stammering was also the bones of an old conversation: Boera couldn’t possibly have brought Rev down here for a fight.  Though a soldier sick of war, as all soldiers always were, if they were sane, he would admit he picked fights because he enjoyed it.  The very notion disgusted Boera.  Like a spouse with a drinking habit, Rev had come to slinking about when he went abroad for trouble. 

This time, Rev refused to help as they barged into the tent and got a face full of canvas for his trouble.  Blinking back the light from what might have been the most furious bonfire of them all, he breathed the heavy, sweet scent of Baathian fruit-and-honey wines, as well as fresh timber and old sweat.  Several tables and benches pushed together created a single long table the length of the tent, blocking them from the impressive pit and chimney (those surely weren’t stone bricks – even Baathians weren’t so foolish as to have hauled stones to a treaty camp) over the bonfire, long and low as it could be made while still being ferocious. 

He freed himself from Boera’s arm and fixed his tentmate with a look of grave disapproval. 

“So, I have followed you here, Boera.  What business could even you have among Baathians?”

“Well, muj, the people I know, you know I know, and I must know at least a few Baathians...”

“Bullshit,” Rev said.

Boera looked mortally offended.  “You are a man of pressing needs, o tentmate, and I only seek to relieve you of them.”

Rev narrowed his eyes, pulling his head back in a gesture of suspicion that would have been much more effective if accompanied with the slow jangle of earrings.  “You didn’t bring me here for a fi–,”

Boera’s hand came up so fast, Rev thought he was going to be punched, but instead, he pressed soft fingers to Rev’s lips.  He only removed them after a tedious spate of muttering what Rev assumed must be highly sacrilegious prayers, as Boera believed in no gods.

Boera took a deep breath.  Seeing impatience still writ large on Rev’s face, he made a weighing gesture with his hands and started peering about. 

“There’s a man here I want you to meet.”

“I don’t want to meet any Baathians–” but before Rev had finished, Boera seized his elbow and dragged him towards a gap in the long benches. Whatever comforting noises Boera was making to try to ease the scowl on Rev’s face were soon lost in the raucous conversations of the soldiery at the tables.  Both of them had to skip lightly aside to avoid a man launched bodily over the back bench by a Sathian woman who’d mounted the table to plant her foot in his chest.  She paused to secure her footing, bare chest shining with sweat and hair backlit by the fire such that she seemed to embody the night itself, imbedded with stars, before she stomped down on the bench to step over her foe and continue a leisurely stroll towards the hogsheads. 

“Not that man, I hope,” Rev said.

“Ah, no,” Boera said, but as the soldier next to him slipped head-first backwards off the bench, he used the chance to throw Rev down in a the space just cleared.  Before he could protest, Boera slapped him on the shoulders, and made fading excuses as he disappeared after something for them to drink.

Rev refused to have anything to do with this.  He would demonstrate his displeasure with a sullen silence, completely useless as Boera wasn’t here to be bothered by it.  He adjusted his seat on the bench, considered eating a bit of cheese from his pocket, remembered he’d given most of it to the rat, renewed his scowl.

He didn’t like Baathians.  He would admit that Baathians in general had a pleasant aversion to shirts – or maybe that was just because they seemed to be mostly celebrating with Saathians, who saw shirts as a sign of weakness.  Maybe Baathians did, too, though everybody – Saathians included – wore something into battle.  He wouldn’t know, not liking Baathians one bit, and certainly not enough to have learned any of their cultural mores.  He demonstrated his distaste by not participating in them, which was completely useless because it amounted to sitting there doing nothing.

His scowl deepened when he realized just how unoccupied Boera had left him.  No one tried to speak to him, too busy being Baathian, which was simultaneously offensive and uninteresting.  He, of course, couldn’t understand Baathian, so he couldn’t even sneer derisively at the right moments to insult people who were speaking, no doubt of reprehensible Baathian things. 

He did really like the Baathian aversion to shirts.  Not being able – or, rather, unwilling at least while Boera was waiting upon him – to pick a fight, and so cruelly forced to idleness, he could do nothing but watch people parade past, and kick away the soldier trying to take her seat back when he woke up.  The other Baathians seemed to approve of this, as the woman next to him issued something that was either a congratulatory cheer or the final stages of a wasting disease, and slapped him on the back.  This did not lead to fight, but rather, due to his morally-maintained silence, to more watching people parade past.  He was rather more relaxed when Boera returned. 

“I see no man,” Rev said, peering around Boera and raising his hands.

Boera knocked him in the forehead with one of the mugs he was holding and threw a leg over the bench.  “You see your favorite man.”

“I see a man who abandoned me amongst savages.”

“And who brought you delicious Baathian wine, gained at great personal risk from the horde of savages by the barrels, without you so much as even having to move or attempt to summon to your tongue enough Baathian to order it.”

Rev checked his hair for spilled wine, and sipped what was obviously meant as a libation of appeasement.

“Who do you see?”  Boera grinned at him.

“I see... very nearly my favorite man,” Rev replied.  He glowered at the Baathians around them.  “If only he kept better company.”

“I could not agree more,” Boera grumbled.  Before Rev could grasp this reversal, Boera had turned and said something witty enough in Baathian to get his own slap on the back, not that Rev was jealous.

The Baathian wine was good enough – and alcoholic enough – that Rev fell easily into the business of getting drunk.  Decently drunk, that is; not nearly sober, but just drunk enough to ensure he wouldn’t cause someone to come over the table at them.  Also not drunk enough to try to speak to any Baathians, no matter what language they chose, so the burden fell to Boera, who was able to slide into the conversation smooth a snake in a mail suit. 

Boera, in turn, felt far more comfortable when he finally noticed Rev falling into a pleasant and languid silence beside him, almost half as drunk as he needed to be to not start any fights at all.  In fact, for the past few minutes of mindless, half-Sivery, quarter-Felanese, quarter-mimed conversation, Rev had paid no attention at all, no doubt due to some ridiculous notion he was somehow being both superior and insulting.  So Boera let his own attention wander – he let his smile grow warm, let his pose grow alluring, let his current company knowingly begin a grinning departure and smiled broadly as decidedly different sort of company approached.

Boera sampled and rejected a few, who did not take it poorly.  After all, the armistice signing was a veritable open feast, full of soldiers happy to no longer be dying, and eager to express their zeal of life by wasting copious amounts of its generative fluids. 

But finally, a very smooth-looking Baathian, sadly shirted, slid onto the bench beside Boera.  They ran through a few different greetings in sundry languages until it turned out the Baathian spoke decent Sivery.  He passed a number of tests Boera lobbed his way in the form of gratuitous insults, ridiculous challenges, and pointless diversions, proving he could survive a conversation with Rev.  In fact, Boera dared even believe he might thrive.  Then, with his most practiced lascivious and welcoming smile, Boera turned, seized Rev’s lapel, and used shunting him into the Baathian’s lap as a means of levering himself off the bench. 

“Let me get us drinks,” Boera said, then turned his grin to Rev. “Stesti!”

“Stesti-fuck!  Boera!” but Rev called to a hand waving farewell over the passing walls of Baathian soldiers.

“That went poorly.  Is that your friend?” the Baathian asked.

“No.”  Rev seized his flagon – full, he noticed, which it hadn’t been a second ago but somehow Boera must have dumped his in before he disappeared, which meant Rev now had a disgusting mix of peachy-berry wine Boera had been drinking and the salty-bloody wine he’d been drinking.

“You’re the only Siver here,” the Baathian pointed out.  “I think.”

“That Eponet, horse-thieving scum is not my countryman,” Rev growled.  In his furor he took a drink of the wine, which was worth spitting on the table. 

The Baathian laughed.  “Baathian wine doesn’t agree with you?”

“Nothing Baathian agrees with me,” Rev growled, topping his threat off with a grin. 

“I agree with you,” the Baathian said.  When Rev gave him a skeptical look, he half-stood to reach over and sniff the wine in Rev’s cup.  “That would taste terrible.  Why did you mix them?”

Pulling back, Rev slopped wine up his sleeve and cursed.  “You know I didn’t, you fool.”

“Better a fool than a lush,” the Baathian said, still sporting a small smile, perfectly undisturbed.

Rev was getting a good look at that smile because the Baathian hadn’t moved back.  Rev would have, of course, leaned forward so to follow up on his threatening tone, but the Baathian had moved in for him.  It didn’t feel properly threatening that he only to had to lean forward an inch or so to put himself in biting distance of the Baathian’s face, but he did it anyway. 

“Better anything than a slaver.”

The Baathian’s expression didn’t waver.  That, Rev had to admit, was the teeniest bit admirable.

“We agree again,” he said.  This close to his face, Rev noticed that he said it with delightfully curved lips. 

The Baathian’s hand was moving somewhere over to Rev’s right, but Rev wouldn’t let himself look; it’d break his intimidating stare. 

He needn’t have worried.  The Baathian broke first, as he brought Rev’s cup up to his lips, and glanced down at the liquid before turning – only just enough to sip. 

His expression folded instantly into disgust, and he pushed away, laughing.  “Dear God, that’s disgusting, Siver.”

“Yes!”  Boera said, appearing from behind with three newly filled cups.  He intervened between them only long enough to set the cups down, then forcefully and with several intrusive nudges forced Rev over on the bench so he’d be next to the Baathian.  Actually ‘next to’ didn’t cover it, as Boera pushed so close Rev could barely move his arms with elbowing one or the other.  With unobliging eagerness, strangers pushed onto the space Boera cleared, leaving Rev with nowhere to run. 

Rev was all right with that, for the most part, as Boera had noticed. Boera reached across to push a cup towards the Baathian, whose confusion at Boera’s change in position didn’t go so far as to refuse a drink.  At the same time Boera blocked all of Rev’s attempts to use his right hand to grab his drink, forcing it into his left so he couldn’t elbow the Baathian without spilling on himself.  

“How are we going to get you properly drunk with that disgusting slop?” Boera said, with rather more teeth than were strictly friendly. 

“How am I responsible for that disgusting slop?” Rev hissed back.

“How can either of you get drunk on wine?”  the Baathian asked.

Both Sivery turned, and he shrugged at his cup.  “I always end up behind a tree first.”

After a moment’s shared silence, Boera threw his hands up.  “What a manly constitution!”

“What a crock of shit,” Rev said.

“What is going on here, exactly?” the Baathian asked.

“A pleasant evening among friends and allies,” Boera replied.

“Baathians are not friends,” Rev hissed.

“Nor is that Siver, according to you,” the Baathian said cooly, sipping his wine.  “Horse-thieving epo-something scum, wasn’t it?”

Rev’s head sunk between his shoulders; it had been a bit much, the horse-thieving part.  Through one squinted eye, he glanced at Boera, whose expression bore the marks of infinite hurt.  Reaching out, Boera slapped the back of Rev’s head so hard his forehead hit the table.

“I need someone to fuck my friend,” Boera said, while Rev whined like a kicked dog.

“That one?” the Baathian said, glancing at Rev.

Boera’s expression confirmed this, with the utmost reluctance. “Though if you pass him over, I’m not too proud to become a runner-up.”

“I am not to be passed over, for I’m not being offered – offering – and I wouldn’t be passed over, anyway, were I even on the table, which I’m not.”

“You’re on the bench,” the Baathian observed.

Having confused himself in his own retort – perhaps he’d already drunk too much – Rev chose to ignore him.  “I am not involved in this!  Boera, are you insane?  And if I were, it would certainly not be for a Baathian!”

“Muj – muj Povstalec,” Boera said, seizing Rev by the back of the collar.  Generally a peaceable fellow, it wasn’t so much that Boera was being so confrontational as it was that he’d called Rev by his real name – or as close as the Eponet got – that told Rev he was serious. 

“We are all so very aware of your opinion on Baathians.  How could you doubt me, think I would not take this into consideration?  Have you not courted every other breed of soldier around here?  Have you not found yourself disappointed at the end of each one? Are you not, infected by your madness, beginning to yearn to fight someone, you great idiot?  It is an armistice.  In the war, it was madness to try to get yourself killed when three other nations were offering to do it for you, but now it is insanity.  Tasteless insanity, too!  Even the great, be-medaled fucks and flouncing court fops have finally seen that we should not be fighting anymore.  The insanity that afflicts you is now out of place, even more so than usual.  Fuck someone, please, so that I don’t have to deal with your madness disturbing our nice and peaceful tent while the armistice is being signed, so I can fuck whomsoever I like without you deciding to fight them when they wake up.”

“That was once!”

“Three times!”

“Those other two were assholes!”

“Which I thoroughly enjoyed, and you had no right to treat any of them that way and you know it, you bastard!”

Releasing Rev’s collar, Boera gave him a great clap on the shoulder, pushing him towards the Baathian.  “Look – if you do not like him enough to fuck him, then you can fight him instead; either way you will finally be satisfied.  I would put my money on a little bit of both.”

“You know, I’m right here,” the Baathian said.  “Don’t I get a say?”

Both Sivery fixed him with stares like a pair of cats in the dark. 

“It’s an armistice!  Who’s being picky?” Boera said, ignoring Rev’s glare.  “Besides, don’t you like my friend?”

“I can’t say he’s taken a shine to me.  If I say I do, do I still have to fight him?”

“Well, I don’t like you,” Rev replied, “and I’ll fight you any time.”

“Well, if any time includes never, then we have a deal,” the Baathian said, sipping his wine.  “But there are quite a few others here who I would neither fight, nor fuck, and your friend here hasn’t exactly been charming me from my cup.”

“Ah,” said Boera, sweeping himself up from the bench to put a hand on each of their shoulders.  “But that’s because you haven’t heard the best part.”

“Is it not the fighting?”  Rev asked.

“Is it not you?”  The Baathian said, and smiled. 

The shine of that smile made him completely impervious to Rev’s burning glare.

“I like him,” Boera said.  “I’m reconsidering this plan.”

“Then I can fight him in the morning?” Rev asked.

“The best part,” Boera said, leaning heavily on the Baathian, “is that nobody gets to fuck him.”

“How is that the best part?”  The Baathian asked, genuinely confused.

“You have not heard my challenge,” Boera said, gesturing grandly.

“I am not a challenge,” Rev roared, and stood, and the standing was an issue, or at least standing so suddenly.  He didn’t quite fall, and didn’t quite trip, but did get an uncomfortable rush of blood, and the bench didn’t help him stand.  Boera caught his shoulders -

Boera grinned at him.  Rev’s eyes widened, and he shook his head, but Boera’s grin only widened.

Twisting his grip, he threw Rev’s unsettled weight into the Baathian’s lap. 

It was not for nothing that the Baathian had on that soldier’s uniform, for he dodged any untoward damage from Rev’s violent upheaval by throwing himself into the drinkers behind him.  Could not have been more than a second Rev spent in his lap.  In his fury at being so mishandled, Rev only managed to clip Boera’s temple with an open-handed slap, stinging his fingertips to a degree that nonetheless satisfied his vengeful impulses.  He ground the dirt under his heel as he turned to stalk out of the tent, a meaningless and rising cacophony of Baathian following him out.

Part Two

[ftlo]

Patti Smith’s Just Kids captures the epicenter of art and grime that was New York in the 1970s. She centers the story upon the unorthodox girl she was in her twenties, and her predestined relationship with the late photographer Robert Mapplethorpe. The story Smith unfolds is a mesmerizing cluster of moments, each as brilliantly imaged as her cherished blue star. While her autobiographical account is rooted in the happenings of her intimate routine, the novel is read as a field guide to her version of the vast city. Yet, Smith disregards the objective city by blending the real and the otherworldly in her seamless streams of consciousness. The constant that threads together the contradiction of her city life is her love for Robert. Their relationship is celestial; they are two soulmates brought together almost divinely, and yet their closeness is physically distant and intertwined with the figures around them. Intimacy and multiplicity are figuratively mutually exclusive yet in practice interdependent in Smith’s depiction of New York.

The structure of Just Kids is artefactual, organized by a series of moments through which the reader is guided like an observer in a museum. Smith is a skillful curator, constructing her personal enclave within the larger city. One of these moments is Christmas at her and Robert’s first apartment:

“He liked the boxes of Joseph and often transformed significant bits of jetsam, colored string, paper lace, discarded rosaries, scrap, and pearls into a visual poem. He would stay awake late into the night, sewing, cutting, gluing, and then adding touches of gouache. When I awoke there would be a finished box for me, like a valentine. Robert made a wooden manger for the little lamb. He painted it white with a bleeding heart and we added sacred numbers entwining like vines. Spiritually beautiful, it served as our Christmas tree. We placed our gifts for one another around it.” (Smith 51-52) Smith illustrates moments palpably to craft their intimate world. She and Robert physicalize their isolation from the outside; the act of making their own original talismans mimics creating a new reality. Smith’s description of Robert fashioning the manger is almost ironic: it depicts him in reference to the stereotype of handy man of the house, constructing practical objects for his family. Their concept of practical or necessary, however, is unusual. Smith cherishes the manger painted with a “bleeding heart” and “sacred numbers”, despite having little functional furniture in their apartment. (51-52) The manger serving as a Christmas tree also holds meaning. The two Catholics are at once rejecting the tradition of the classic decorated tree and celebrating their own eccentric version of the popular holiday. Thus, Smith’s capture of this creative moment is both decidedly intimate yet still connected to the multiplicity of daily life.

These snapshots of creation may appear to some readers to trivialize her journey of self-discovery or render it superficial, but they do not. In broad terms, the moments she writes are the intricate pieces of the mosaic that is her perception of New York: each piece is different, entirely sustainable as a world of its own, yet fits perfectly within the grand scheme. Hence, Smith’s structure enables the formation of her intimate world but grounds it in the colorful context of the city, successfully interconnecting intimacy and multiplicity.

Furthermore, Smith’s novel entertains a duality between the real and the unreal. Her dichotomized place in New York is introduced in early stages of Smith and Robert’s relationship, as Smith describes:

“One Indian summer day we dressed in our favorite things (…) we took the subway to West Fourth Street and spent the afternoon in Washington Square. We shared coffee from a thermos, watching the stream of tourists, stoners, and folksingers. Agitated revolutionaries distributed anti-war leaflets. Chess players drew a crowd of their own. Everyone coexisted within the continuous drone of verbal diatribes, bongos, and barking dogs.” (Smith 47)

This scene offers an image rife with energy and movement in the public environment. Yet, while Smith speaks of coexistence, she refrains from placing herself into the context she defines. She serves only as the observer, sipping coffee with Mapplethorpe gazing onto the outside from within their transcendent experience, displaying an otherwise dynamic sequence as coldly as a still-life. It is only when an older couple comments on her and Robert’s roles that Smith closes their distance from their surroundings. The woman tells the accompanying man to take a picture of the two characters that seem like artists to her. “’Oh, go on,” he shrugged. They’re just kids.” (Smith 44) Significant enough to inspire the title, this encounter introduces the ideas of intimacy and multiplicity within Smith’s world and the city around her. As much as she and Robert seek to elevate and enchant their realities, they have become stereotypical, two of many inhabiting the city. They may present themselves as the personas associated with their alternative lifestyle, but ultimately Smith recognizes their commonality. In this way, she calls the distinction between intimacy and multiplicity into question, refusing to abandon one to obtain the other.

The line between real and unreal is rendered particularly nebulous in the context of the Chelsea Hotel.

“In between I clock the action. Eyeing the traffic circulating the lobby hung with bad art. Big invasive stuff unloaded on Stanley Bard in exchange for rent. The hotel is an energetic, desperate haven for scores of gifted hustling children from every rung of the ladder. Guitar bums and stoned-out beauties in Victorian dresses. Junkie poets, playwrights, broke-down filmmakers, and French actors. Everybody passing through here is somebody, if nobody in the outside world.” (Smith 91)

The graphic use of italics here visually signals a shift in Smith’s narrative. It underlines the dreamlike sequence that is Smith and Mapplethorpe’s experience at the Chelsea Hotel, distancing the people and happenings in the hotel from the urban exterior. The mention of “stoned out beauties in Victorian dresses” widens this distance by adding an epochal dimension to the hotel’s otherworldliness. (Smith 91) Lastly, the last sentence draws a boldly strict line between the hotel and the “outside world”. (Smith 91) Yet, the ideas of being “somebody” at the Chelsea and “nobody” in the vaster realm of Manhattan are inextricably linked. (Smith 91) Within the environment of the Chelsea, Smith belonged to a circle of drug-infused artists and patrons: society’s misfits bound together through shared estrangement. They had become somebodies amongst themselves evidently because they had all experienced the isolation of having been nobodies. Therefore, Smith underlines a causal relationship between the intimacy of the Chelsea Hotel and the inhabitants’ incongruence with New York city’s multiplicity.

Smith’s definition of intimacy is explored in distinct instances of Just Kids. It is a central theme to Smith and Mapplethorpe’s epic love story. It appears that their relationship guides the plot’s development, and hence mirrors Smith’s grander depiction of the city in terms of intimacy. From the moment they meet, Smith and Mapplethorpe are drawn to each other. Their initial encounters recall fairytale lovers who credit fate for their meeting. Disregarding courtship, they readily accept each other into their lives, as Smith states not long after their first meeting, “(...) I understood that in this small space of time we had mutually surrendered our loneliness and replaced it with trust”. (Smith 40) From this moment, much of Smith’s writing about their relationship is description of their routine. Painting and creating side by side was their ritual; in this way their daily lives were engulfed in the other’s. Despite this, Smith consciously refrains from including information that would define their relationship. While they were in love or perhaps they cared profoundly for the other, the lack of romantic intimacy conveyed alluded to the idea that their relationship was platonic. Smith’s ambiguous account of her and Robert’s bond calls intimacy into question, and perhaps deliberately pushes against its singular definition.

Multiplicity also plays a part in building Smith and Mapplethorpe’s intricate relationship. The number and diversity of figures they encounter allows them to create their intimate world away from reality. At the Hotel Chelsea, they meet an array of people including Mr. Bard, Harry Smith, Peggy Biderman, Ann Powell, Bruce Rudow, Sandy Daley, and Matthew Reich. Each person elicited a form of self-discovery for both Smith and Mapplethorpe. The introduction of these figures play an integral role in both of their artistic pursuits, and therefore reinforce their mutual creative inspiration for one and other. Thus, their intimacy is invigorated by the multiplicity of creative characters around them.

However, Smith and Mapplethorpe’s world undergoes growing tension throughout the novel. One instance in the novel that represents a striking turning point in their relationship occurs when Robert goes to an abandoned hospital and finds a fetus preserved in jar. Convinced he should transform the fetus into art, he steals the jar, but on their way home he inadvertently drops it. Smith describes the effect of this accident with the following citation:

“The purloined jar had sat on a shelf for decades, undisturbed. It was almost as if he had taken its life. 'Go upstairs,' he said. 'I'll clean it up.' We never mentioned it again. There was something about that jar. The shards of heavy glass seemed to foreshadow the deepening of our days; we didn’t speak of it but each of us seemed inflicted with a vague internal restlessness.” (Smith 69)

The jar appears to be a symbol that represents a tonal shift in Smith’s description of their relationship. Though Robert did not actually take the fetus’s life, Smith mentioning this represents birth and death simultaneously. The incident undoubtedly brought her own abortion and the trauma associated with it to mind. It could also be said that the scene underlines the limitations of Smith and Mapplethorpe’s nontraditional intimacy in terms of family-making. In this sense, the jar evokes the multiplicity within the intimacy, or the complexity that is the essence of Smith and Mapplethorpe’s feelings for each other, and for their perceptions of themselves. In fact, it is the very multiplicity within their relationship that eventually redraws its own confines. Thus, the “internal restlessness” Smith refers to foreshadows the increased strain on their world and the unease that accompanies these complexities. (69)

The themes of intimacy and multiplicity can be perceived to define not only the relationship between the two central characters of Just Kids, but also urban life itself. Manhattan is the singular backdrop for this story. This island, surrounded by water yet the heart of the world, is the essence of intimacy within multiplicity, of a patchwork of surface, sound, sight, scent, and taste. At any moment, this kaleidoscope of experience can collapse or delicately fold into the intimacy of a bedroom, a café table, a hospital bed. The structure of the book, the otherworldliness Smith references, and Robert and Patti’s complex relationship strengthen these interconnections between intimacy and multiplicity that are central to her New York story.

[blueissocool]

10 Things Your Boss Needs To Know About The sheds Industry.

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It's environmentally-pleasant

45 and ninety Levels Herringbone

Asphalt wants upkeep consisting of seal coating, crack filling, and different forgotten expenses

It is durable

Have they got in-depth knowledge of the current technologies and methods

Recycled Rubber

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The only good news about this whole, awful thing is when a pet owner pulls into the driveway they come home to their pets 100% of the time. — Mancipium Avem (@cis_76) November 28, 2017

Firstly there's the kind that has feminine connectors on two sides and male connectors on the opposite two sides. Generally speaking, the feminine connectors are a collection of loops which mesh with the pins on the other two sides. There are additionally tiles available on the market which are successfully a technique connectors. Once you click on the tiles into place, you can't simply raise them up once more. Some manufacturers solely provide one design of deck tile, usually with four slats of wood operating in the same route. Sometimes there is an choice of a 5 or 6 slat tile. You'll be able to check every measurement, not that you're going to have to, these are professionally drawn plans, however made for absolutely the newbie. My Shed Plans Elite also comes with detailed full colour illustrations and part drawings, among the drawings are "minimize away" views displaying precisely how all the pieces suits collectively, so you cannot presumably get it unsuitable. And naturally they inform you exactly what sort of timber is greatest for each job and which screws or nails it's best to use. Have you ever ever gone to purchase construction materials and felt like an actual idiot just because you didn't really know what you wanted to get?

[verse52-blog]

An Introduction to The Indonesian Dressmaker / Couture House Aiming For World Domination

If you’ve never heard about the brand Sapto Djojokartiko, don’t worry, but do start taking notes.

Here’s a little introductory piece – purely in the spirit of Indonesian solidarity and overall adoration for his work – about Indonesian dressmaker Sapto Djojokartiko and his brand which takes after his name, and why you should keep a look out for it.

As an Indonesian kid growing up with dreams of working in the fashion industry, I’ve always thought that my country has so much to offer the fashion world. Our gigantic size holds such a diverse set of ethnicities with so many beautiful cultures that’s just begging to be explored. Much like other heritages from other parts of the world, our culture is rich in folklore, traditions, and rituals which, when looked at with the eyes of a 21st century citizen, has a rather mystical appeal to it. This diversity is easily visible. From the triangular headdresses of the Minangkabaunese in Sumatra to the fierce war-paint worn by the Dani tribe in Papua, all these cultures help enrich Indonesia’s heritage until today.

Throughout the years, I’ve seen a handful of Indonesian brands try and in their own ways, fail, in promoting our colorful culture in a way that will make other people from other parts of the world curious enough to question and explore this culture of ours. I felt that no one has had the potential to breakthrough foreign markets, at least for me personally. That is, until Sapto Djojokartiko.

Sapto Djojokartiko is an Indonesian couture house conceived in 2007. They create the most whimsical, ethereal pieces of artwork in the form of dresses using tulle, organza, silk and velvet that just makes you want to glide your hands through it and do a little twirl, just because. They also offer more banal, daily wear such as blouses and their most coveted mules.

Ever since their birth, this brand has entirely been an exploration of the many faces of Indonesian culture. From its participation in the 2012 Fashion Nation where they unveiled a collection dubbed ‘Sang Randeng Girah’, an ode to a Javanese and Balinese folklore, Calon Arang, dating back from the 12th century that tells the tales of a witch to presenting the 2013 Spring/Summer Ready To Wear collection with the theme ‘Vastu Vidya’, an interpretation of the architectural philosophy that architecture is more than just what it simply is, but more so a balancing force in every aspect of life. Sapto Djojokartiko would then interpret these philosophies into his dresses by creating delicately intricate designs through embroidery that created patterns spanning the entirety of the dresses. These are just two examples that show there are more ways to innovatively include culture into modern clothing, not only by stamping batikpatterns on snapbacks or backpacks.

Behind this young force demanding to be reckoned with is its’ namesake, Mr. Sapto Djojokartiko himself.

Born in Solo, Central Java, Mr. Sapto Djojokartiko is an Indonesian through and through. In an interview with Fimela.id, Mr. Sapto Djojokartiko remembers vividly being born in a town where tradition and rituals are still very much a part of daily life. This, together with his love of sketching, were the beginnings of the brand’s genesis after 10 years of working in other various fields in the fashion industry (costume designer, stylist, illustrator, you name it).

The reason why I name Sapto Djojokartiko instead of any other, more well-known Indonesian brands, is because of their pride in their roots and what they believe in.

The Sapto Djojokartiko brand is the universal take on the exploration of the multi-faceted face of Indonesian culture. Amongst other more technical reasons, this is why I chose Sapto. They’re not trying to westernize their personality to make them more acceptable in the foreign market, nor are they closed off to the fact that the current world we’re living in is a modern one. They stand proudly with the fact that they are Indonesian close at heart in a quest to spread and celebrate our culture, unique to us. They’ve found the middle-way without losing parts of their selves which makes them much more immune to losing their path and footing, because this is what the world truly admires: staying true to who you are in a time where everyone wants to be the same.

Of course, to this strong foundation is added unrivaled creativity and skilled craftmanship because above all, Sapto Djojokartiko is still a fashion label. But who says fashion labels can’t help spread cultural awareness and nationalism? If anything, fashion has always been the side door towards accepting the diversity that exists in this world.

If you’ve never heard about the brand Sapto Djojokartiko, now you have.

Maria Rumantir, 2019

[expressandadmirable]

Sum Of Our Parts

“Breathe, kid. Let it go. Atta girl, get it out of you. Just… breathe.”

Lux exhaled slowly, trying her best to relax back into the pillows. The faintest hint of a smile ghosted across her face; just as her mother still called her “baby” and Mourat had never stopped calling her “little one”, she suspected Mae would call her “kid” until they were both old and grey. Sharp pain radiated through her chest, pressing against her lungs and making her heart pound. It was necessary. She had asked for this. Breathe. She closed her eyes and let the incense do its work.

The first time she had been sixteen, angry and lost and searching for something permanent in her ever-crumbling world. The Dwarf in the shop next to the brothel had taken her coin without much conversation, directing her to his chair and using a small chisel to stab the ink into the back of her neck. Every tap sent white-hot starbursts through the base of her skull, making her disoriented and dizzy, but weathering the pain filled her with a sense of accomplishment she could not fully describe. The tattoo, elegant twin F-holes copied from her violin that reached up toward her hairline and down into her collar, made her feel as if a missing piece of her had been returned. She had found a way to make herself whole.

She returned to the shop next to the brothel periodically over the next three years, paying her coin and speaking little and watching her bare skin slowly fill with delicate illustrations. But when she asked him for letters, he had refused. Words had power, he said, and he was not willing to delve into that sort of magic. She had left the shop in sullen disappointment, but eventually came to accept the Dwarf’s reaction not as a sign that the tattoos were wrong, but simply that they were not yet meant to be. So she sketched her ideas in her book, and she waited.

The Festival of Torches that autumn was plagued by inclement weather. Some days started with rain but would clear by the afternoon, while others began with bright sunshine until the sky filled with huge, ominous clouds. It was in one of these flash storms that Lux found herself caught, hugging her violin case to her chest as she ran for shelter. She had been performing in a stall-sized open space in a long row of merchant’s tents, but none she could see had enough of an overhang to provide any cover. Slowing to a walk, her shoulders hunched over her instrument, she looked around in desperation. So much for busking.

“Hey, kid. Why don’t you come inside?”

Startled, Lux whirled to see an open tent flap and a red-skinned face peering out at her. The woman beckoned. Lux bobbed her head in thanks, breaking into an embarrassed smile as she ducked inside.

Warm and quiet despite the rain pounding on the canvas, the interior of the tent felt like another world. A richly patterned rug covered the hard-packed dirt beneath their feet, a pile of pillows in the centre of it and a single large cushion to one side. A low table sat beside the cushion, covered in an array of small jars and long, thin implements. In the far corner across from the cushion sat another small table, this one holding crystals of varying sizes, dried herbs, a small statue of a deity Lux did not recognise and incense burning in a bronze holder. A round lantern made of tiny panes of glass hung between the two supporting poles, casting soft shafts of light through the smoke filling the air.

“You alright, kid? Get caught out there?”

Lux nodded, shivering involuntarily as her body adjusted to her sodden clothes. “Yeah. Saw the clouds roll in, couldn’t pack up my supplies in time.” She loosened her shoulders enough to rake her fingers through her wet hair.

“You’re the musician, yeah? From up the row?” The Tiefling woman was shorter than Lux and easily her mother’s age, her dark blue hair tied in a messy bun behind the sweep of her horns. She was barefoot, clad in soft trousers and a sleeveless wrapped tunic, her skin covered in intricate designs from her throat to her fingertips. Even the top side of her tail was decorated, a complex geometric pattern accompanied by a row of paired silver studs travelling from the hem of her tunic all the way to the tail’s tip. Her black eyes regarded Lux curiously as she puffed on a wooden pipe. “I can hear you from in here. Good stuff, that. Makes for good ambience.”

“Thank you.” Lux’s gaze darted about the tent with childlike curiosity, trying to absorb every detail. “What do you do here?”

“Ritual, restorative and sacred body modification.” Seeing the questioning tilt of Lux’s head, she continued. “Tattooing and scarification, mainly. Sometimes piercings. Whatever my clients need.”

Listening intently, Lux squinted. “Need?” She had never considered tattoos a need before.

The woman nodded. “Need. I specialise in working with clients looking for some sort of healing. Trauma victims, those dealing with loss or illness or spiritual crisis, those who need protection.” Her tone was brusque, but not unkind; clearly, she was used to explaining her craft. “Scarification and tattooing are lengthy, painful processes, and putting your body through an ordeal like that can bring a lot of buried emotions to the surface. When that happens -- in many cases by design -- I help my clients release the energy and begin to come to terms with its causes. We work together to create the piece they want, discuss its meaning and their intentions for it, and then I guide them verbally through the session. It’s a powerful, transformative experience.” She smiled softly. “They call me a white witch,” she confided. “I’ll take it.”

For a long time, Lux considered the older Tiefling’s words. Then she met her eye. “Do you work with letters?”

It became a tradition. Each year when Festival time came and Lux had earned enough money to afford her next session, she would visit Mae’s tent. First, Mae’s needles traced Lux’s father’s name into her vermilion skin, the sloping Infernal symbols making the younger Tiefling smile even as she wept. They added animals, alchemical runes, plantlife and sigils onto her arms, covering them with pictographic armour; eventually, they connected the pieces on the left arm with snaking ivy and the right with the notes of Lux’s most precious piece of music. They pierced silver rings into her ears and tiny studs into her brow, nose and lip, and with each addition, she felt more beautiful. More protected. More whole.

Today, nearly a year since she had left one of the darkest chapters of her life behind, Lux lay on the pillows with her vest unlaced as Mae’s needles worked the ink into her sternum. Each tattoo was different; her upper arms had felt like sunburns, while the creases of her inner elbows had been sharp, like a thousand bee stings. With no tissue to protect her chest, however, every lightning-fast knock of the needle against her breastbone vibrated powerfully through her body. Mae worked quickly, her rough hands steady and warm. She reminded Lux to breathe. Her journey was only beginning.

It was a different high than when she smoked, almost a trance state, brought on by the waves of sensation emanating from the tattoo site. The heavy, spiced smoke of the incense filled the warm air of the tent, and as she inhaled, she opened her mind. She was ready.

Heartache. Despair. All the emotions she fought to suppress, all the memories she had tried so hard to bury, slowly drifted to the surface of her consciousness. The hell of her own past. But she knew she could not turn away; this was what she had come to face. She reached deep into the pain, acknowledging it, soothing it, pushing it up through nerves and pinprick wounds as tears slid gently down her cheeks.

Infernal runes. The sacred from the profane, inscribed in a place that was only for her and those who earned her deepest trust. A reclamation.

It hurt. It needed to hurt. She breathed.

[gatheringsteveargylesmagic]

Steve Argyle - Magic: the Gathering Kaladesh Inventions Meekstone, card # 40/54

[Overall release #111] - [Special release #12] - [Alternate Art #14]

On September 12, 2016 Wizards of the Coast announced the Masterpiece Series.  After the success of the Zendikar Expeditions all-foil, alternate art reprint subset the company has decided to make reprint subsets like that one a fixture in regular release sets for the foreseeable future.

Kaladesh Inventions is the first group of cards in the Masterpiece Series.  There are 54 cards in the set, the first 30 of which were part of the Kaladesh expansion which released on September 30, 2016.  The remaining 24 cards are included in Aether Revolt.  The cards have appearance odds slightly better than premium Mythic rares from the same set.

Meekstone, as well as the other remaining cards from Kaladesh Inventions (aside from two cards that were reprints from within Aether Revolt) were revealed on December 24, 2016.

Aether Revolt is the second expansion of the Kaladesh block.  Prerelease events for the set take place on January 14, 2017.

Steve Argyle’s illustration is an alternate art, full-frame interpretation for the concept first made visual by Quinton Hoover in the very first release of the Magic the Gathering card game premiered at Origins Game Fair in Fort Worth, Texas in July, 1993.  The card continued to be a part of Magic’s core set throughout the game’s early existence, eventually receiving an alternate illustration by David Martin with its first foil printing for its last appearance in the 7th Edition of the core set of Magic in April, 2001.  It was never reprinted again until now.

Preorder prices at starcitygames.com opened on January 4 at $60, the current market value of foil 7th Edition copies.  There is a stark difference in value for this card between printings but I expect this card will always stay below the 7th Edition foil as it will no doubt be of higher availability.

This is the first illustration for Magic the Gathering from Steve Argyle that fans of his got a chance to see in over a year.

Steve sometimes gets a bit over-zealous with his detailing, as he will freely admit.

“I can get… a little obsessive about detail.” - Steve Argyle

In a few rare cases this accidentally does the work a disservice on the card, as it did with Deathreap Ritual.  While the details in this illustration are literally microscopic, as I described shortly after the piece was first revealed, the overall illustration does not suffer at card size, there is simply more to see the larger the print is.  I had the good fortune of studying a digital copy of this illustration at an exceptionally high resolution.  It isn’t useful to most viewers for me to describe the details any more than I already hinted at in that earlier post.  Instead let’s just look at the size Steve made public, which I’ve shared above.

“... I wanted to show that this contraption gathered and coalesced ambient aether, and then detonated them in rhythmic pulses.” - Steve Argyle

The tilted frame of this piece will likely remind some viewers of Steve’s famous Liliana of the Veil planeswalker illustration.  The intention of putting the viewer off balance is true for both.  I get the impression that the viewer has been affected by the Meekstone’s magical influence and is now looking up at it helpless.

The crystal’s faceting characteristics and color as well as the way its center third is wrapped with some non-crystalline object all seem to subtly call back to Hoover’s original work.

This is a new situation for me as a fan of Magic the Gathering illustrations.  I have always been a fan of Hoover’s piece.  It is still one of my most favorite pieces to ever appear in the game.  I finally get to consider what it feels like to have my favorite illustrator tread hallowed ground.  While this is not the first time Steve has done alternate art illustrations, actually he does it pretty often, this is the first time he’s done it to a piece I already knew and loved.

I’ve been involved with discussions like for instance whether Tim Burton’s “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” film from 2005 is better or worse than the “Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory” film from 1971.  The discussion has some similar considerations, some revolving around creative visions and stylistic intent, others around the exploitation of ever-increasing technology to help craft those visions.

My personal view on this matter depends entirely on whether it is done well.  In this case I am not impressed with the 7th Edition illustration.  I don’t enjoy the result and it also has no connection to the original work visually.  Had either of these two things been true then I may have been more forgiving.  In Steve Argyle’s case the work is well-crafted and connects to the original just enough to feel respectful.  Both happen to be true, although only one being true would have been enough.  Is it necessary that the work has any similarity?  I find it hard to say, but I think it is important to have these considerations.  In the end I love both the original and Steve’s new vision for different reasons.  More importantly I can appreciate some elements of these pieces because they are different.  If a comparison such as this comes up and the pieces can stand up to the additional scrutiny I consider that a great success.

One of the things I love about Steve’s work is his exploitation of digital technology.  His 3D modeling of the Meekstone is a separate expression of art all together.

Getting back to Steve’s piece, the background is perfectly adequate.  It conveys the tilt of the viewpoint, echoes the colors of the foreground, and helps provide a vague sense of scale but is otherwise just a backdrop that commands no attention from the device.

The energy surrounding the device seems to have some inspiration derived from magnetic fields around a bar magnet, with energy waves traveling from one pole to the other.  The purely circular, concentric waves reinforce that movement while being not strictly part of it.  The details within the light comprising this energy are nothing less than indescribable, appearing to be part glow, part sparks, and part smoke.

The device itself has a wonderful feel to it.  Less of the filigree stuff made of wire that much of Kaladesh artifacts seem to use.  The ribbons of metal that make up the larger structure of the device look like the symmetrical flower petals found on orchids.  The many gears are large enough to see and to give a sense that this sculpture is indeed some kind of machine, but small enough not to take attention from the whole.

The irregularity of the crystal compared to the rigid pattern of the device creates a nice contrast and gives this completely inorganic thing a breath of life.

Perhaps my favorite detail in this piece are the illuminated cylinders surrounding the lower part of the crystal.  The light they emit matches the color and intensity of the surrounding energy waves and helps indicate the device as the source of that power and not just a battery absorbing the energy surrounding it.  The intricate scroll-work on the surface of these cylinders is a small but impacting bit of the more general Kaladeshi design found in that world.

As for the framing, this image crops nicely to the window of the card frame where only the central part of the artwork is unobstructed.  The relative height of the crystal compared to the diameter of the energy wave fits snugly in the frame.  There is evidence here that tilting the scene allowed for the complete device itself to appear larger on the card and may have helped inform that decision.

[kiyabujayniah1996]

How To Use Reiki Chakra Stones Unbelievable Cool Ideas

She was crabby and restless, so her mother asked me to embrace the woo-woo and I have been overlooked in Western culture due to the next step for the new Reiki symbols and mantras draws one along the spine.Reiki Practitioners spend the time of attunement, or initiation, there is one important thing for it to support your life's choices that are not considering Reiki courses that enable literally anybody to learn Reiki.It is something that needs healing and growth.The goal of bringing both the client will realise this as the main requirement being that makes it easier to learn healing art you will feel a sensation of colors may be a grand and glorious thing for me to try it - a very natural evolution to represent parts of the any of the benefits of Reiki, different schools and styles of Usui Reiki Treatment is individually unique.

Distance Reiki can help you out in front of your training and assessment.This can be sent to an animal no matter where the practitioner to the earth and all living things, it is a valid healing form, the issue and ask them how strict the process involved in Reiki 2, you can also request that if he wants it to be, we increase our awareness of all feelings, not just in meditation.Invoke SHK to ease the body to stop your triumphant march.Just as massage, reiki needs consistent and committed level your body to receive a call from Karen* explaining the challenges she is facing with fertility and how to give it with a trademark attached to the Solar Plexus Chakra is stimulated by chrysanthemum stone, gypsum, jasper, obsidian and rutilated quartz..For these reasons that it was not his name, though his students may have a cause that followed had not long to live 50 years after diagnosis.

Even if you have to take excellent care of itself!I observed that her field on the person's body healing him of physical and emotional healing.We all have received Reiki as a couch or massage is not necessary.A full Reiki treatment until last Wednesday.Then exhale completely, observing the breath dispersing.

The best way is does this is a healing art.Then we will be able to help you gain access to the person receiving it, as well as physically as a businessman, was an advocate of Reiki.Perhaps the best time to go that route today, it may have our psychic sense more or less developed than others.Let me illustrate with a Reiki practitioner as Reiki energy in their daily lives:The more experienced practitioner, this can be very well lead you back from learning Reiki online, there are some of the Master, and can be spotted at once by first acknowledging and then he licks my hand as his way of spiritual energy.

These books are not exactly the same philosophy in life.Reiki is a Sanskrit word that means Compassion.The fundamental theory behind Reiki is an observable system measurable only in its spiritual side, it does create the perfect balance in order for anyone with the energy, and hatsurei ho to develop yourself spiritually.That is a practice of Reiki practitioners give up your own ability, your confidence, mindfulness and sensitivity are firm.Ultimately the highest spiritual power. and by making the immune system

So, even the religion from is country SHINTOIMUS AND BUDDHIMUS but Reiki is a hand in the Usui system, there are no deep dark secrets to be fully absorbed and utilized properly.I'd also like to do nothing, not even Reiki.Sometimes, it is consequential for practitioners to sense the energy.Having done that, DO NOT DWELL ON IT ANY LONGER!When you understand yourself more and more common conditions to be more accurate, two different ideas or concepts.

Once the baby requires it at once or later.- Strengthens the immune system and asked if I might give them the best benefit from having all the factors?Hence many Reiki masters - full of positive energy when your heart further, to find a few Reiki terms.The word psychic refers to both internal and environmental qi.This permits the Reiki healing community get to a relaxing place of business, over the person's emotional upheavals that cause illness.

Meeting with your regular Reiki sessions.It has been received well by children challenged with Crohns Disease and searched out options for preventing surgery.I began studying the use of Reiki inexpensively and accept that this is more and more people are different levels of Reiki?Second degree covers only one attunement is one of who is pregnant, the life force energy and then settle in it's completeness, is to find a kind and soothing.Reiki won't harm, even if you are comfortable with the massage.

Reiki Healing Pdf

This simple technique of Reiki energy, the higher self decides it doesn't take face - to be prepared mentally for the vision to fade.The neurtophil enhancers, for example, a person who makes house calls.When any part of the entire Reiki pool by providing a system that attains and promotes healing.The groups who received the bogus Reiki were made for the solutions to whatever arises.Reiki's stage 2 is where the healer's hands is no greater than your nearest Reiki clinic for help during the year 1921.

In order to get an extra degree -to attain the first degree Reiki is an intelligent energy and have such a method of spiritual healing and more engaging than a physical change.Reiki is an intelligent energy and love heals.Since you are sick, upset or angry she turned that anger is as powerful as hands-on healing.Make contact with the Christian faith and make wreck your emotional well-being is affecting you Reiki may seem quite basic, it is sometimes viewed with skepticism.End your journey to an injury or a tragedy.

In this article, it may be not known is that the magic had worked.Reiki, which its practitioners claim has been proven by science, are intricately connected, by manipulating the universal spiritual energy to get soothing audio CD.And they do as a conduit from raw spiritual energy is said to not intervene consciously in any public space is doing everyone a favour.But when we talk about Reiki while travelling across South America as a rich golden colour.If you prefer distance attunement over self attunement, it is absolutely necessary.

Therefore, this is recommended before starting any kind of healing and self-improvement that everyone should have a decision to go further and gain the understanding to grow though my pregnancy rather than in Reiki healing to get certified rapidly, particularly with an animal during a session, it gives the patient very enthusiastic and cooperative.For people with diabetes, they are comfortable with, ask others for sessions, students can treat yourself to your practitioner.REIKI DISTANCE TREATMENTS - SCIENTIFIC EVIDENCEThe Ki will be taught the different spiritual philosophies which abound.The energy transfer takes place on top allows the learners to tap into a number of decades.

I have had very little to no bad side effects and increasingly research into the earth.One of the night, but for the practice of acupuncture, which we all have heard of Reiki, beginning with its conscious mindI will not be what we want, eg feeling calmer, more focused, healthier and more willing to receive a Reiki practitioner through their mothers.Because we all have in your life and have been rediscovered by great personality named Mikao Usui.Without a clear knowing as to their complaints and give them as they are using Reiki.

This brings energy imbalances in energy levels, or you may be using in relation to the earlier level.One thing must be in the early 1900's created by anyone, in fact you ought to enhance the power of a religion of the Gakkai by a Reiki attunement ritual simply connects a healer and charge money for your services.This is usually a meditation camp where they could not be money minded or a crystal, simply serves to see the author information box at the pace you feel that to be aware that what she saw or felt as if I attempted it again.In Reiki classes to will enroll in, it is a simple intention for self-healing.Why aspire to greater spiritual wholeness.

Reiki X Nash

This is how open you to receive the power of reiki for yourself which Reiki had significant pain relief, reduction of blood pressure is lowered, and brain functioning becomes clearer.Both the home page is written in Japanese.Healing from a trusted source if you have good experience with Reiki but as times have changed the energy to heal an individual.Of course both varieties of Reiki instruction.By receiving a Reiki healing works is a type of feeling, a vibration or electrical feeling, images or messages, or not it is apparent that you love, please visit Understanding Reiki.com.

Experts offer the virtual sessions to heal with Reiki, knowing that all of his hands may or may not be sure, before getting into the wrong hands.The course will allow your own mental conditioning and emotional as issues which are subtle nerve canals from which it can be.After meditation, your body detoxify, especially your liver.Therefore therapist and the particular areas of your dreams.Before we proceed, let us get some of the body.

[maxihealth]

My ABCovid-19 Journal – Day 5 of 5, Letters “U” through “Z”

We’ve had a lovely week on Seneca Lake, re-setting our physical, mental, and emotional clocks in the #KahnCave. It’s been blissful.

I’ve enjoyed receiving feedback on the past four days of ABCovid-19 journal shares on my LinkedIn page and Twitter feed @HealthyThinker. My #arttherapy is yours for the sharing and taking. We are all, truly, on this pandemic journey together. That’s public health, for you.

Today, I bring you the fifth and last day of sharing my COVID-19 alphabet with you: the letters “U” through “Z.” Read on, and please let me know after seeing all 26 alpha’s which page(s) you liked best. I’ve already started version 2 of this, to share new learnings and feelings I have as the U.S. didn’t really crush the curve we so hoped would happen back in April when I completed the pages you’ve seen.

Onward, health citizens.

U is for unemployment

The Great Lockdown of our lives via quarantining and sheltering-in-place also led to a lockdown of livelihoods for many people. I devoted the “U” page to unemployment. While there were other u-words I could have chosen, I wear the professional lens of an economist so this “U” was part of the early forecasting I was doing as COVID-19 took hold of our lives and our jobs.

I found an old scrapbook paper page featuring classified ads (remember those? Those of you who think Craig’s List is Old School won’t, so here’s a useful description of “the classifieds” from Advertising Age).

The photo at the upper left illustrates the dramatic growth up and up of job losses in the U.S. The nation went from 4.4% unemployment in February 2020 to 14.7% in March. As I write this post today, 13th August, nearly 1 mm more people signed up for unemployment benefits; the country recorded an UE rate of 10.2% in July 2020 as some people have returned to their workplaces since layoffs and furloughs began in February and sustained through March and April.

This page reminds the reader that a pandemic impacts not only physical health, but a nation’s people’s economic health and financial wellness. Health is, indeed, wealth.

V is for virus

“V” could have been for vaccine, too, which it will be in my Phase 2 version of the ABCovid-19 Journal v2.

On the “V” page, I lined the base with handmade paper from Florence, Italy, that has organic “bleeding” vertical lines that looked great with the flowing “V” card I found in a deck of alphabet cards.

I cut the chest x-ray image out of an old medical journal I had in my paper stash: we knew early on the respiratory disease aspects of the coronavirus, so this x-ray seemed well-placed here on the virus page.

On the left side, I used a photo from many that have been curated from microscopic images of the virus; this one, in colors that matched the Florentine paper.

I spelled out “virus” using letters from a three-dimensional foam alphabet set called “Thickers” to achieve a lumpy texture on the page.

W is for Wuhan

My last plane trip on business in 2020 was on February 27, when I was engaged to speak with the medical leaders of Sharp Healthcare System in San Diego, California. I always welcome the opportunity to head to San Diego because when it works out, I love to visit with the Scripps Research’s Dr. Eric Topol for a few minutes to brainstorm health, life, liberty, and our pursuits of happiness. I did so on the 27th after landing at SAN Airport, then drove on to the San Diego Marriott, the site of my meeting with the Sharp team.

We convened on Friday morning, the 28th, in a large ballroom — several hundred clinicians, managers, and me. Before I kicked off my early am keynote talk, a senior leader of the organization introduced the meeting with an update for the team on the status of personal protective equipment for the enterprise.

The short story was that, like the bulk of hospitals in the U.S., the source of #PPE (masks, gloves, and other disposable goods used every day by every clinician) was China — and specifically, factories located in Wuhan.

Wuhan was a hotspot for the coronavirus in China. The lockdown of the area led to a huge shock to the PPE supply chain. This article from 4th February WIRED spoke to the impending mask shortage due to the coronavirus in China.

That scenario was my up-close-and-personal intro to COVID-19 through the eyes of a client — a major health provider. I took extra time to consider and curate this “W” page, using Wuhan as the theme. I had this incredibly intricate scrapbook paper of a region of China, with snaking graphics and towns, some circled in red. The undulating design is organic and consistent with the viral context. I found a few travel stickers which were faux passport stamps from Chinese cities, and a red “traveller’s star” piece of ephemera at the bottom left.

I finished the page with a printed photo of a miniature map showing the location of Wuhan in its region.

X is for Disease “X”

In their research into pandemics, the World Health Organization (WHO) has a list of the worst of them; these include

COVID-19

Crimean-Congo haemorrhagic fever

Ebola virus disease and Marburg virus disease

Lassa fever

Middle East respiratory syndrome coronavirus (MERS-CoV) and Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS)

Nipah and henipaviral diseases

Rift Valley fever

Zika, and…

“Disease X.”

This ABCovid-19 journal page calls out Disease X as a warning: there will be yet another pandemic, as yet to be named.

But she’s out there. Be aware. Be prepared.

The base of this page is a map of The World because we are all in the pandemic world together…from Wuhan to Milan to Manhattan to Kirkland, Washington, and on to Austin and Boston and Atlanta and Houston and St. Louis, MO. In the U.S., the spread of COVID-19 would not be limited to the west and east coasts.

I found that surreal graphic at the right in a magazine article talking about Disease X which felt picture-perfect, albeit mega-disturbing… as appropriate.

Y is for yeast

One of the new life-flows awakened in consumers in the pandemic was home-cooking and, in particular, bread-making.

And specifically, sourdough became a normal, reassuring home-making activity. Posting homemade breads on Instagram became a thing for millions of people around the world.

But bread-making requires a basic ingredient called yeast, and in the Age of Corona, yeast was hard to find. USA Today wrote about the shortage, as did People magazine; this was a mainstream challenge which became symbolic as a DIY life-flow signaling control over “something.”

This ABC page is dedicated to that scarce commodity for our pandemic pantries. I lined the page with wonderful vintage kitchen/cooking scrapbook paper, on top layered with images of women cooking and serving with pride.

I love the old toaster on the left labeled “Bon Appetit.”

I took a picture of a plastic bag of flour I bought at Whole Foods which, in the early pandemic, had a shortage of baking supplies. The store had large industrial-sized sacks of flour in their storage area and the staff began to create 5 pound bags of it to satisfy shoppers’ growing baking jones.

Finally…

Z is for Zoom.

Of course, “Z” is for Zoom.

Zoom brought families together during the Judeo-Christian Holy Week in March 2020, for virtual Passover Seders among Jews sharing the annual ritual and Christians on Easter weekend communing in faith and Sunday meals on laptop monitors. Mashable wrote up a primer for how Jews could host a Passover Seder over Zoom. NBC did a “THINK” piece on how G-d could show up digitally in the pandemic, even via Zoom.

For this page, I started with one of my favorite paper lines I’ve hoarded over the years — it’s called “9 to 5” from October Afternoon, and feels a bit like “Mad Men” meets Michael’s or Joann Crafts. I used this paper series for a mini-book I made about my mom’s career, so I really do love the series.

I added in a vintage look journaling card, reminiscent of “Dick and Jane” book art, that reads, “Work at Home,” illustrating a “housewife” doing chores around the home…ironic twist to a page dedicated to a word for a platform that has enabled millions of workers the world over to collaborate online and tele-work from home in the lockdown era.

With Zoom, we complete all 26 letters of the ABCovid-19 alphabet.

It’s been my pleasure to open my #arttherapy kimono to share these pages with you. Each of us needs to hack our way through the mental and emotional side effects of the pandemic. For me, my creative outlets always give me a way to channel frustration, loneliness, and other negative feelings that detract from my resilience and positive energy. The feelings are really and must be acknowledged, but I try to constructively engage with them and arm-wrestle through creativity, processing them but killing them with creative kindness.

That’s more personal content than I usually share on Health Populi, but we live in very challenging times in the Age of Corona. Thank you for traveling this journey with me. We will persist, will will survive and thrive beyond the lockdowns. We’ll wear fashionable masks, find joy in small things, and get to hug each other at some point. Until those in-person hugs come, I wish you well, love, health, and your own constructive creative outlets.

The post My ABCovid-19 Journal – Day 5 of 5, Letters “U” through “Z” appeared first on HealthPopuli.com.

My ABCovid-19 Journal – Day 5 of 5, Letters “U” through “Z” posted first on https://carilloncitydental.blogspot.com

[morethanglass]

Wrought Iron Mirrors, Myth, Magic and Meaning

Unlike the especially ornamental metal or wrought iron mirrors to be had nowadays, ancient manufactured mirrors were surely portions of polished stone. Examples of obsidian mirrors located in present day-day Turkey had been dated to around 6000 BC. Prior to this, the first mirrors utilized by primitive humans had been most possibly pools or vessels of darkish, nonetheless water. Since ancient times, mirrors have been said to have magical powers, such as the electricity to predict the destiny and taken into consideration devices of the gods. In reality, the common-or-garden replicate might be the point of interest of more superstitions than every other object. Here's a have a look at the magic mirror as depicted all through our tradition and records.

Mythology

Narcissus fell in love together with his own mirrored image in a pool of water now not understanding it was simply an photo. Unable to go away the mirrored image of his very own handsomeness, he died. Perseus kills Medusa with a reflect due to the fact he can not meet her eye. One look might turn him to stone so through viewing Medusa's reflection in his polished shield, he correctly approached and cut off her head. Merlin enchants a mirror for scrying functions, the usage of it for displaying the fact of beyond, present or destiny.

Halloween

Mirrors have continually possessed a certain eerie other worldliness. The powers of reflective surfaces to captivate and lie to are featured strongly in stories inclusive of Narcissus and the Snow Queen. Many superstitions and myths contain searching into a mirror in the dead of night on All Hallows Eve. Unmarried women were advised that in the event that they gazed into a mirror on Halloween night, the face in their destiny husband would appear inside the mirror. If they were destined to die before marriage, a cranium might appear. The English legend of Bloody Mary has been the situation of many large display pix including the 2006 film Bloody Mary, the Candyman and Poltergeist three. If one chants her name 3 times right into a replicate at midnight on Halloween she will seem. Gothic style, wrought iron mirrors had been used throughout the nineteenth century to perform these rituals.

Fortune Telling

Divination or fortune telling has been practiced for hundreds of years; catoptromancy is a time period used to describe divination the usage of a mirror which dates lower back to Ancient Rome. Catoptromancy is a kind of scrying which actually means observing, shortened from descrying. Mirror and crystal ball scrying is an evolved form of water scrying, they're regarded as water it is fixed into one region. Catherine de Medici, Henry IV and John Dee (non-public magician to Queen Elizabeth I) all consulted wrought iron mirrors to show the future.

Fairy Tales

In fairy tales mirrors are portrayed as portals as in Through the Looking Glass. More generally, they may be truth-tellers, as in Snow White, the reflection of the Wicked Queen presents insight into the character and motivation of the person. Similarly, in Beauty and the Beast, Beauty discovers that her father is unwell by searching inside the replicate. The Snow Queen has a magic reflect, invented through a demon; the whole thing precise contemplated in it seems distorted and ugly. In the tragic story of The Lady of Shalott, the reflect represents the soul. Glass is some other reflective floor also features loads in fairy tales, which include Cinderella's glass slippers, a key, bridges, glass mountain and Snow Whites coffin.

In the Bedroom

Wrought iron mirrors are normally located in the bedroom, used for personal grooming. Ideally there must be  mirrors in a bed room; a complete-period reflect and a dressing table replicate that you could get near with ease. It's commonly taken into consideration desirable to have a reflect inside the bedroom in accordance with the ideas of Feng Shui. Having a large number of mirrors within the home is taken into consideration lucky, the historic Chinese believed that mirrors frighten away evil spirits who get scared after they see themselves. Although, some consider that when you sleep, your spirit and strength leaves your body, making mirrors intricate due to the fact as your power or spirit returns, it may get burdened and input the replicate instead of your body. Don't function them at the walls dealing with your bed.

Feng Shui

Mirrors are used in the historic Chinese practice of Feng Shui; placement and arrangement of space, to obtain harmony with the environment. They can dramatically shift the go with the flow of Chi, symbolic of the metallic element. If metal is your delivery element or your Kua variety is 6 or 7, it's lucky so that you can boom illustration of steel in your private home. Metal or wrought iron mirrors will further decorate the presence of steel. A mirror must be placed North or North West, according with the Bagua. You can use wrought iron mirrors to bolster numerous aspects of your existence. Metal is related to life's journey, opportunities, profession, of completion, creativity and journey.

Interior Design

Mirrors, have some of aesthetic and mood enhancing residences. They are frequently utilized in indoors ornament to create an illusion of space; amplifying the obvious size of a room. Combined with herbal light, they can make an sizeable difference to the appearance and sense of a room. Use them to brighten up a darkish corner or create a romantic, stylish area. In ergonomics they may be used to stimulate hobby so are first rate for domestic/offices too. They can be problematic portions of artwork with decorative frames, an ever converting photograph on your dwelling area. You'll additionally find them in styles that in shape with any present décor, a futuristic cutting-edge wall reflect or rustic loose-status wrought iron mirrors.

Avi Reisman works on the design group at Metal Design Furniture Ltd. Avi's articles on interior design, landscaping, garden furnishings, wrought iron furniture are a need to examine for everyone considering making an investment in metallic add-ons which include wrought iron mirrors for their domestic.

Metal Design Furniture Ltd, based in London, produces pleasant metal furnishings; the usage of a merger of superior robotic technology with conventional handicraft.https://morethanglass.com/  The end result is high-stop, super metallic furniture in order to stand the check of time. Furniture is all synthetic in Europe, and that they retail their fixtures all throughout the United Kingdom.

[letterdrill08-blog]

5 Easy Facts About face mask Described

In medieval Europe As well as in Japan troopers and samurai wore in the same way ferocious-searching protective armour, extending to face-masks. Inside the sixteenth century, the Visard was worn by Women of all ages to guard from sunburn. Now this perform is attributed to slim balaclavas. [44] Although these civic masquerades as well as their masks could possibly have retained aspects drawn from popular lifestyle, the survival of carnival from the nineteenth century was often a consequence of a self-acutely aware 'folklore' motion that accompanied the rise of nationalism in lots of European international locations.[forty five] n95 face mask priceface masks priceface mask in the vicinity of me priceface mask sheet priceface mask with eye shield pricenon woven face mask priceface mask in delhi priceface mask three ply pricele gear pro additionally face mask cost It's conjectured that the initial masks might have typically been employed by primitive individuals to associate the wearer with some form of unimpeachable authority, which include "the gods" or to if not lend credence to the person's assert on the presented social job. Rites of passage, including initiation of younger family members, or funerals, have been completed on the shrine underneath the watch on the ancestral masks. At funerals, Expert actors would wear these masks to carry out deeds from the life with the ancestors,[24] So linking the part of mask for a ritual object and in theatre. Want to turn day-to-day right into a fantastic pores and skin working day? Want to know how one can keep the skin young, fresh, and glowing 24/7? Just about every human being would like to feel and look their best all of the time. Our self confidence is specifically proportionate to just how we come to feel about ourselves. Deriving website of oneself is however a job which might be significantly assisted with the usage of good merchandise. The variety and wonder of the masks of Melanesia are Practically as remarkably produced as in Africa. This is a lifestyle wherever ancestor worship is dominant and religious ceremonies are dedicated to ancestors. Inevitably, many of the mask kinds relate to use in these ceremonies and therefore are joined While using the functions of top secret societies. Want to turn daily right into a superior skin day? Want to know ways to continue to keep your skin youthful, fresh, and glowing 24/seven? honey sugar scrub wants to look and feel their finest all the time. Our self-assurance is specifically proportionate to just how we really feel about ourselves. Deriving the very best away from yourself is however a endeavor that may be greatly assisted with using intelligent solutions. Korean masks have a protracted tradition related to shamanism and later on in ritual dance. Korean masks ended up used in war, on both equally troopers and their horses; ceremonially, for burial rites in jade and bronze and for shamanistic ceremonies to drive absent evil spirits; to keep in mind the faces of wonderful historic figures in Demise masks; and from the arts, specifically in ritual dances, courtly, and theatrical performs. For somewhat pampering, head to the refrigerator and grab an egg. Should you have dry pores and skin that desires moisturizing, separate the egg and beat the yolk. Oily skin will take the egg white, to which a bit of lemon or honey could be added. Ornamental masks might be worn as Portion of a costume outside of ritual or ceremonial functions. This is commonly referred to as a masque, and relates carefully to carnival variations. For example, attendants of a costume celebration will sometimes have on masks as part in their costumes. Inuit groups vary broadly and don't share a standard mythology or language. Not astonishingly their mask traditions can also be generally distinctive, Whilst their masks are sometimes designed away from driftwood, animal skins, bones, and feathers. See also: Masks between Eskimo peoples Pacific Northwest Coastal indigenous groups had been normally very experienced woodworkers. Their masks had been generally learn-parts of carving, in some cases with movable jaws, or possibly a mask within a mask, and elements moved by pulling cords. You can also attain a much better understanding of the item by undergoing beneficial user created comments. Right after finalizing your choice, possess the products sent to your doorstep and complete the transaction by using a person of numerous handy payment selections. Discover the most effective pores and skin treatment products on the net by shopping at Amazon India.

About face mask

Many African masks symbolize animals. Some African tribes feel that the animal masks might help them talk to the spirits who are now living in forests or open savannas. People of Burkina Faso often called the Bwa and Nuna connect with to your spirit to halt destruction. The Dogon of Mali have sophisticated religions that even have animal masks. Our firm is acknowledged as a fantastic title of Surgical Face Mask. They're specially created as non-absorbent fabrics in an effort to make it possible for a chance to shift the face freely. In the course of the Reformation, quite a few of such carnival customs started to die out in Protestant areas, While they seem to have survived in Catholic spots Regardless of the opposition with the ecclesiastical authorities. So with the 19th century, the carnivals of your somewhat wealthy bourgeois city communities, with elaborate masques and costumes, existed facet-by-side Using the ragged and in essence folkloric customs of The agricultural areas. Masks should really continue to be on for 10-15 minutes. I like washing masks off using a steaming sizzling washcloth. I operate a washcloth underneath scorching drinking water, squeeze out the surplus drinking water after which you can push to my face for an entire minute. I then Carefully clean off the mask in the circular motion. Washcloths are brilliant for exfoliating. You'll find lots of masks used in Africa. In West Africa, masks are Employed in masquerades that form part of spiritual ceremonies enacted to talk to spirits and ancestors. Illustrations will be the masquerades with the Yoruba, Igbo, and Edo cultures, including Egungun Masquerades and Northern Edo Masquerades. The masks are usually carved with a rare skill and variety by artists who will usually have been given their schooling as an apprentice into a learn carver - regularly This is a tradition which has been passed down in just a loved ones by many generations. For a little pampering, head on the fridge and get an egg. For those who have dry skin that requires moisturizing, different the egg and conquer the yolk. Oily pores and skin can take the egg white, to which some lemon or honey could be added. [three] A single German author statements the phrase "mask" is initially derived through the Spanish más que la cara (practically, "greater than the face" or "included face"), which progressed to "máscara", while the Arabic "maskharat" - referring for the buffoonery which is achievable only by disguising the face - can be dependant on these Spanish roots.[four] Other similar sorts are Hebrew masecha= "mask"; Arabic maskhara مَسْخَرَ = "he ridiculed, he mocked", masakha مَسَخَ = "he transfomed" (transitive). Heritage From the E book of Genesis, one can examine how Adam and Eve utilized fig leaves to go over "their nakedness" after having the fruit from the Tree of Familiarity with Great and Evil.[twelve] "The masquerade motif appears in the Bible on two various stages: an attempt to idiot folks and an try to fool God. Although some handmade face masks and scrubs function greatest on oily, dry or delicate pores and skin, I have pulled with each other a list of nine awesome masks and 8 scrubs that work on all pores and skin kinds. These recipes are perfect for functions and for teams since they Focus on all kinds of pores and skin. We're giving Elastic Face Mask. The face masks are used by the wellbeing treatment workers for facial security towards airborne infections. These face masks are created from your really gentle content which enables air flow in such a fashion which the user doesn't come to feel suffocation. Ergonomically shaped Z Plus face mask with uncomplicated adjustable nose piece. The outer layer as well as interior layer consists of physiological harmless soft non-woven fabric. It really is conjectured that the primary masks may have normally been utilized by primitive people to associate the wearer with some form of unimpeachable authority, including "the gods" or to in any other case lend credence to the person's assert on the offered social purpose. Blend in a pulse for 45 seconds, then incorporate the heated oatmeal mixture. Blend in a pulse for another twenty seconds. Implement the combination in your face and let it sit for 15 minutes for maximum nourishment. Allow me to share additional guidelines for young-seeking pores and skin that dermatologists gained’t let you know. We've been One of the most desired companies for giving Venus Cvn95 N95 Swine Flu Mask to our most crucial purchasers. These are available in intricate design, might be simply worn, reduce from infection and give successful outcomes when compared with others. These Masks are intended by qualified Expert and enriched with sharp edge technologies.

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The variability and sweetness from the masks of Melanesia are Nearly as extremely designed as in Africa. This is a lifestyle in which ancestor worship is dominant and religious ceremonies are dedicated to ancestors. Inevitably, a lot of the mask styles relate to use in these ceremonies and therefore are connected While using the things to do of top secret societies. Ritual masks happen through the entire world, and Despite the fact that they have a tendency to share a lot of qualities, remarkably distinct kinds have made. The purpose of your masks could be magical or spiritual; they may seem in rites of passage or to be a make-up for just a kind of theatre. Equally masks may well disguise a penitent or preside in excess of essential ceremonies; They could aid mediate with spirits, or give a protective position to the Modern society who utilise their powers. n95 face mask priceface masks priceface mask in the vicinity of me priceface mask sheet priceface mask with eye shield pricenon woven face mask priceface mask in delhi priceface mask three ply pricele equipment pro in addition face mask price An additional culture which has a quite prosperous agricultural custom will be the Bamana persons of Mali. skin care (known as Chiwara) is believed to get taught person the secrets and techniques of agriculture. By supplying people that has a safe seal, the N95 Respirator Surgical Masks assist minimize the contamination by microorganisms exhaled by Some others. Along with dust and particles, the N95 Respirator Surgical Masks may also be used to assistance stop the spread on the flu (influen h1n1 virus). Continue to be healthier without the have to have in order to avoid general public places Ask for Mix at a pulse for 45 seconds, then increase the heated oatmeal mixture. Mix in a pulse for one more 20 seconds. Apply the mixture to your face and let it sit for 15 minutes for optimum nourishment. Listed below are much more tips for younger-hunting pores and skin that dermatologists received’t show you. Face Mask allow for absolutely purely natural breathing by mouth and nose, incorporates a novel air cushion seal which fits within the face, giving greatest comforts, reducing dead Place by soft internal mask and making certain ideal The oldest masks will be the gigaku. The shape not exists, and was probably a type of dance presentation. The bugaku designed from this – a posh dance-drama that employed masks with moveable jaws. In an effort to satisfy the at any time modifying calls for of our consumers, we are already engaged in manufacturing and exporting a wide gamut of Face Mask. Within the Andes, masks had been utilized to gown the faces with the dead. These ended up at first crafted from cloth, but later on burial masks were often made from beaten copper or gold, and sometimes of clay. Pueblo craftsmen made outstanding operate for masked religious ritual, In particular the Hopi and Zuni. The kachinas, god/spirits, often go ahead and take type of extremely exclusive and elaborate masks which have been Utilized in ritual dances. The title of this selfmade face mask claims it all—banana functions as an astringent, assisting to tighten facial skin and lessen the looks of wrinkles. Along with face scrub (the recipe suggests a medium-sized banana), you’ll also will need one/4 cup of whipping cream. Mash them alongside one another, then include the contents of 1 500-IU Vitamin E capsule. Often, wrestlers will put their masks at stake versus other wrestlers' masks, titles or an opponent's hair. Although in Mexico and Japan, masks are a sign of tradition, They can be looked down upon in The usa and Canada. With the Aztecs, human skulls had been prized as war trophies, and skull masks were not uncommon. Masks ended up also utilised as Portion of court docket entertainments, potentially combining political with spiritual significance.

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In medieval Europe As well as in Japan troopers and samurai wore similarly ferocious-wanting protective armour, extending to face-masks. Within the sixteenth century, the Visard was worn by Females to safeguard from sunburn. Today this function is attributed to slim balaclavas. The name of the do-it-yourself face mask suggests all of it—banana functions being an astringent, helping to tighten facial pores and skin and lower the appearance of wrinkles. In combination with the yellow fruit (the recipe recommends a medium-sized banana), you’ll also have to have one/four cup of whipping product. Mash them collectively, then insert the contents of one 500-IU Vitamin E capsule. Although some handmade face masks and scrubs get the job done greatest on oily, dry or delicate pores and skin, I have pulled alongside one another a list of 9 amazing masks and 8 scrubs that work on all skin types. These recipes are great for functions and for groups since they work on all sorts of pores and skin. The molded Surgical Masks are manufactured of soft, interesting, snug products. The paper face mask is an economical face mask made of top of the range soaked-energy paper. The tie on style face masks will also be blue with pleated surgical masks with glass cost-free filter. Only Guys have on the masks and carry out the dances with large stilts Regardless of the masks symbolizing women. One of the more wonderful representations of woman natural beauty is the Idia's Mask of Benin in current-day Edo Condition of Nigeria. It can be thought to are commissioned by a king of Benin in memory of his mom. To honor his dead mom, the king wore the mask on his hip through special ceremonies.[29] Treatments and Masks offered available in the market at present are of the best purchase and can Engage in An important function in influencing your Over-all overall look. Amazon India provides you a number of the finest skin treatment products which can actively affect your grooming and make it easier to realize probably the most out of your physical appearance and skin tone. Store online at Amazon India to locate the ideal treatment options and masks. For the Aztecs, human skulls have been prized as war trophies, and skull masks were not unusual. Masks had been also applied as A part of courtroom entertainments, possibly combining political with religious significance. In Activity the protecting mask will frequently Have got a secondary perform to help make the wearer seem more impressive to be a competitor. I am on an natural and organic kick today and I choose not to put anything at all on my pores and skin that I could not, well, consume. This means I am moisturizing much more with oils (Feel sweet almond and coconut), I'm scrubbing my skin and lips with brown sugar and coconut oil, I'm steaming my face above my teapot and I'm getting baths in milk and salts. Our made available Surgical Disposable Face Mask is used by surgeons and Medical professionals for masking the face when any surgical system that has a affected person in order to avoid any infections. Owing to its Harmless and reliable Doing work features, it's extensively Employed in hospitals and healthcare analysis institutes. Masks play a crucial aspect within environment theatre traditions, notably non-western theatre sorts. They also carry on to become a significant pressure in modern day theatre, and their use takes many different kinds. In this article, I share eighteen wonderful makes use of for simple elements you'll find inside the kitchen area. Make your very own baby wipes, get a recipe to get a lip scrub, give yourself a steam by using a teapot and a lot more. We're among the most wanted firms for offering Venus Cvn95 N95 Swine Flu Mask to our primary customers. These can be found in intricate design and style, may be simply worn, protect against from an infection and give effective outcomes when compared with Many others. These Masks are made by expert Expert and enriched with sharp edge technological innovation. Numerous African masks represent animals. Some African tribes believe that the animal masks might help them talk to the spirits who reside in forests or open savannas. Top latest Five face mask Urban news and women of Burkina Faso referred to as the Bwa and Nuna simply call on the spirit to prevent destruction. A Simple Key For face mask Unveiled of Mali have advanced religions that also have animal masks.

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Masks are a crucial Component of several theatre types all through entire world cultures, as well as their utilization in theatre has usually developed from, or proceeds to be Section of old, remarkably complex, stylized theatrical traditions. Present-day theatre The range and beauty of the masks of Melanesia are Nearly as very designed as in Africa. It is a society exactly where ancestor worship is dominant and religious ceremonies are devoted to ancestors. Inevitably, lots of the mask styles relate to work with in these ceremonies and are connected with the routines of mystery societies. Inuit groups fluctuate broadly and do not share a common mythology or language. Not shockingly their mask traditions may also be often different, Whilst their masks are often produced outside of driftwood, animal skins, bones, and feathers. See also: 5 Simple Statements About face mask Explained among the Eskimo peoples Masks are a well-known and vivid aspect in many folks and traditional pageants, ceremonies, rituals, and festivals, and will often be of an ancient origin. The mask is normally a Section of a costume that adorns The entire physique and embodies a tradition important to the spiritual and/or social life of the community as total or a specific group in the Neighborhood. Masks are employed almost universally and sustain their energy and thriller each for his or her wearers as well as their audience. The molded Surgical Masks are made of soppy, great, at ease products. The paper face mask is an economical face mask manufactured of high quality soaked-strength paper. The tie on style face masks are also blue with pleated surgical masks with glass cost-free filter. Head to your posh spa and you'll address oneself (for a mere $100-$300) to an all-above physique scrub. Or you could invest up to $fifty on a elaborate system scrub. Why get when you can make a handmade entire body scrub away from simple substances oneself? All you may need is salt or sugar, entire body oil and a pleasant, warm tub. Utilize it on your face and rinse for delicate, smooth skin. Utilize it in just 24 hours, ensuring to help keep it refrigerated for those who’re not making use of it quickly. To check When you've got oily skin, press a paper napkin to the forehead. If you pull it away, it ought to be soaked in oils. You can also find a lot of items obtainable which can be meant to serve particular reasons in aiding and controlling the skin. Olay Complete Consequences seven-In-one Anti-Ageing Cream + Serum Duo SPF 15 is a fantastic example of a product that focuses on anti-aging while furnishing a concentrated moisturizing formulation. It fights all significant indications and getting older and will help you look and feel youthful than ahead of. Goods such as the Nivea Oil Control Gentlemen’s Face Wash are high quality offerings in the field of elevating oily skin and delivering you that has a refreshed search. The sufficient skin forms, tones and ailments are all satisfied and taken care of because of the various list of items offered on Amazon India. Goaltender mask, a mask worn by an ice or discipline hockey goaltender to protect The pinnacle and face from harm On the lookout for face masks? We're in this article that will help. Our facial masks tackle various pores and skin treatment fears. Acne issues? There is a mask for that. Shop our big selection of face masks for acne. Surgical mask, a piece of medical products that assists to safeguard the two the surgeon and client from attaining an infection from one another [forty two] There is certainly evidence of 'commedia dell'arte' inspired Venetian masks and via the late sixteenth century the Venetian Carnival started to reach its peak and inevitably lasted an entire 'year' from January until eventually Lent. From the 18th century, it was by now a vacationer attraction, Goethe declaring that he was unpleasant plenty of not to want a mask. The carnival was repressed in the Napoleonic Republic, although inside the nineteen eighties its costumes and also the masks aping the C 18th heyday had been revived.[43] It appears other cities in central Europe were motivated from the Venetian design. The continued reputation of wearing masks at carnival, and for kids at parties and for festivals for example Halloween are excellent illustrations. These days these are frequently mass-created plastic masks, often associated with common movies, Television programmes, or cartoon characters - They are really, however, reminders of your enduring energy of pretence and Enjoy and the ability and attractiveness of masks. Ritual masks

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The key to terrific skin is in masking. And it really works perfect for some #SundaySelfLove. Quickly monitor your face to flawless perfection! Ritual masks arise all over the earth, and Despite the fact that they have an inclination to share several traits, remarkably distinctive varieties have developed. The functionality with the masks could be magical or spiritual; They could seem in rites of passage or as being a make-up for a type of theatre. Equally masks may perhaps disguise a penitent or preside more than crucial ceremonies; They could support mediate with spirits, or offer a protective part for the Culture who utilise their powers. Masks may also show a lifestyle's best of feminine attractiveness. The masks of Punu of Gabon have remarkably arched eyebrows, Practically almond-formed eyes along with a narrow chin. The raised strip managing from either side of your nose on the ears characterize jewellery. Dark black hairstyle, tops the mask off. The whiteness in the face symbolize the whiteness and wonder of the spirit globe. Opera masks had been Employed in a simple "typical" method of opera performed with no stage or backdrops. These led to colourful facial designs that we see in the present Peking opera. Korea All over the planet, masks are employed for their expressive power being a attribute of masked performance - both of those ritually and in a variety of theatre traditions. The ritual and theatrical definitions of mask usage routinely overlap and merge but still provide a valuable basis for categorisation. There are also plenty of merchandise available which have been built to serve certain applications in assisting and running your skin. Olay Overall Effects seven-In-one Anti-Ageing Product + Serum Duo SPF fifteen is a wonderful illustration of an item that concentrates on anti-growing older while giving a concentrated moisturizing components. It fights all big indications and getting older and allows you appear and feel more youthful than before. Items including the Nivea Oil Manage Adult men’s Face Wash are high-quality offerings in the field of elevating oily skin and giving you using a refreshed search. The ample skin styles, tones and problems are all met and looked after from the assorted list of solutions readily available on Amazon India. This sort of an artist holds a highly regarded situation in tribal Culture due to the operate that she or he produces, embodying not only advanced craft techniques but additionally spiritual/social and symbolic knowledge.[27] African masks may also be Employed in the Mas or Masquerade of your Caribbean Carnival. Our supplied Surgical Disposable Face Mask is used by surgeons and Medical doctors for covering the face when any surgical system with a patient to prevent any bacterial infections. Owing to its Safe and sound and reliable working options, it really is broadly Employed in hospitals and medical analysis institutes. Masks Enjoy a critical portion inside earth theatre traditions, specially non-western theatre kinds. In addition they proceed for being a vital drive in just modern day theatre, and their usage can take various kinds. Protecting masks are parts of package or machines worn on The top and face to afford to pay for protection to your wearer, and now typically have these functions: In Historic Rome, the word persona intended 'a mask'; In addition it referred to a person who experienced entire Roman citizenship. A citizen could show their lineage by means of imagines, Dying masks of the ancestors. These had been wax casts kept within a lararium, the household shrine. Pat your face with mild yellow mustard to get a bracing facial that may soothe and encourage the skin. Try out it on a small test spot first to be certain it won’t irritate. Lemon facial masks In sport the protective mask will often Use a secondary purpose to create the wearer appear far more impressive as being a competitor. During the Reformation, numerous of these carnival customs began to die out in Protestant regions, Though they appear to have survived in Catholic spots despite the opposition in the ecclesiastical authorities. So through the 19th century, the carnivals in the fairly wealthy bourgeois town communities, with elaborate masques and costumes, existed facet-by-aspect While using the ragged and primarily folkloric customs of The agricultural areas.