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not-a-coral-snake · 3 years ago

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for @lamenweek Day 8 prompt: “It was one kingdom once”

"Their support is . . . tennous," Berenger says. He shifts his weight. "Your majesty, if I may be so bold . . . You retain their support because they think you are young and tractable. They think they can sway you, if not into abandoning the alliance with Akielos entirely, into minimizing its priority. If you proceed as you plan, you will lose their support entirely."

It’s like this sometimes. His nobles, or Damianos’s, dangling promises of support before them, of difficulties that could be amicably smoothed over, if only the king would be reasonable. The three nobles Berenger is referring to today hold between them a significant portion of Toutaine, rich in timber and mineral resources, and in Lord Mitry’s case, along a strategically-important stretch of the border with Vask. Appease them, and Laurent will have a significant amount more funds and men for fighting the more directly-belligerent of his uncle’s remaining supporters and pursuing the various domestic projects he has planned. Refuse, and Laurent will be likely be faced with years of delayed and short tax payments, a haven for smugglers that will sharply reduce tariff revenue from Vaskian goods, perhaps even a breeding ground for more direct rebellion.

It comes as little surprise. Laurent knows it would be difficult to find broad support for his plans with Akielos even if he had political capital to spare. Knows how little political capital surviving his uncle's court has left him. Knows whatever tolerance, whatever grudging deference, he has wrangled out of his court by virtue of their nearly executing him on false charges is fleeting.

“Invite the Toutainais nobles to court for the snowmelt festivities,” Laurent says. “We can give them an opportunity to attempt to convince me of the wisdom of their position. It will be as much a chance for me to reassure them of the logic of mine.”

Berenger nods, jots down a note. “Shall I delay the announcement of the new trade policy with Akielos until after their visit, then?” he says.

Laurent pauses, shakes his head. There is only so much to be gained by stringing the Toutainais nobles along for a few weeks longer. “We cannot allow the reservations of a handful of northern lords to dictate our policies for the nation,” he says. “Announce the trade policy as planned.”

* * *

It had been an impulsive proposal, uniting the kingdoms, born out of high emotion rather than logic. Laurent is reminded of this every time he is faced with its costs. He had been dehydrated, had not slept in thirty hours. Damianos had lost rather a lot of blood. It was one kingdom once.

They do not plan to unite it into one kingdom again immediately or all at once. They had announced, in those early days in Ios, simply an alliance. In the negotiations that followed, they had laid out a stronger, more intimate alliance than was usual. They plan, over the next several years, to strengthen the terms of the alliance still further, the alliance’s existing success hopefully serving as an argument in favor of further entanglement.

In the meantime, they plan to harmonize the workings of their respective governments, to increase trade and cultural exchange. They will join the kingdoms later, when Akielons and Veretians are no longer strangers to each other, when laws and governments can be joined without friction, when trades and interdeallings have grown to a point that union seems more natural than not.

Moving the capital of each kingdom to Marlas has been an early success. Veretians are proud to once again rule over Delfeur, and see the court at Marlas as a literal and obvious symbol of their reign. Akielons, aware that Veretians possesses the province on paper, are glad of the new capital as evidence that Akielos still, in the ways that matter, holds Delpha.

Damen smiles fondly at the gracefully shifting narratives Laurent employs when speaking of the two countries’ decision to form a court at Marlas, the flexible, carefully-chosen explanations he uses that allow everyone, Veretian or Akielon, to view the new capital as a win for their side. Laurent, for his part, never denies outright that greater unity with Akielos was his main goal in moving the capital.

* * *

There are costs for Damen too, among the kyroi and the powerful noble families of the Akielon court.

Even with the lingering doubts and resentment left in the wake of Kastor’s coup, Damen’s position in his own court upon taking the throne was stronger than Laurent’s was. The rumors meant to delegitimize Damen after his return from Vere had never really had time to take root, and few of Kastor’s supporters had been truly loyal to Kastor himself, rather than Theomedes’s bloodline. Damen is a beloved warrior, a hero, triumphantly returned from supposed death to claim his rightful throne. He has the support of his people for whatever grand and improbable project he might wish to take on.

The first grand and improbably project Damen takes on, however, is ending slavery. He and Laurent agree: ending slavery as early in Damen’s reign as possible is a moral imperative, as well as a practical one. Whatever chance there is of winning broad acceptance in Akielos to ending slavery, it will be the greatest while the knowledge of the king of Akielo’s time as a slave is still a raw wound, while that king’s survival and seeming return from death still seems like a miracle. In the days of still-unsettled emotion at the beginning of Damen’s reign, ending slavery becomes a way of channeling the people’s fervor, allowing all the shock and outrage and gratitude and shame the people feel upon learning his story to be converted into action.

It is also probably for the best that the people of Akielos do not associate the end of slavery with growing Veretian influence in Akielon affairs.

When the project to end slavery succeeds, it is in the eyes of both kings a monumental triumph. If I do nothing else of worth during my reign, Damen thinks, I can nonetheless be proud of my achievements, having accomplished this.

As things stand, though, Damen has other plans as well. And as he begins the process of moving Akielos towards unification with Vere, he finds he has a steeper uphill battle ahead of him now than before. There is talk that the young king is trying to change too much, too fast. Overconfident, perhaps. There are enough of Kastor’s more subtle supporters left at court to become a focus point for the murmurs of discontent that arise. Damen’s throne is hardly in danger, but building support for his policies is increasingly a matter of strategic effort rather than easy assurance.

Unfortunately, Laurent’s presence at court has a tendency to exacerbate these weaknesses. When Laurent attends meetings with the kyroi, he becomes a proxy for criticism the kyroi would not dare direct at Damen himself. In one meeting concerning defense against Vaskian raids, the pace of the meeting slows to a crawl as the kyroi present Laurent with objection after objection. They argue with Laurent, try to pick open holes in his logic, even ask for confirmation his sources of information are reliable and his calculations correct. Damen would be outraged on Laurent’s behalf, except that Laurent is clearly unbothered by their rudeness. He seems to be enjoying himself even, sidestepping their traps easily and demolishing each objection almost as quickly as it’s raised. He’s anticipated nearly every one of the arguments the kyroi fling at him, Damen notices. So instead, Damen sits back and watches appreciatively as Laurent wins endless battles of words.

In private, after the meeting ends, Nikandros is livid. “They have no business speaking to a king like that,” he says. “Even a foreign one. To ask you if you were certain about the timing—they had no place—”

Laurent is silent for a while, reassessing, as Nikandros paces the room. “That wasn’t normal political discourse, then,” he says finally. “Akielon protocol does not allow for direct critique of a king’s line of reasoning.”

“You let people speak to you that way in your own country?” Nikandros says, amazed.

Laurent shrugs noncommittally, but Damen has attended enough meetings with the Veretian council and nobility to know that yes, this sort of back-and-forth is relatively common in Vere. And not merely a product of Laurent’s previously-tarnished reputation with the court, but instead a result of the different ways Veretians demonstrate power and deference.

But later, after Nikandros has left, Laurent says, “I am a weakness to you here in more ways than I thought.” He bites his lip.

“I did not think you minded their questioning,” Damen says.

Laurent says, “I knew, being here, that more people would claim that I wield undue influence over you. That some would dismiss our ideas as too Veretian, that some would whisper that you were thinking with your cock. But most of those people would be saying as much anyway even if I were not in Ios in person.

“But by being here, in person, I have become a proxy for all the criticism they would make of you, and cannot. They can criticize me, and in criticizing me they can make you appear weak. Perhaps I should return to Marlas.”

There is a truth to Laurent’s words, for all that Damen’s mind rebels against it. Knowing now the typical deference afforded a king in policy meetings, Laurent can adjust his own behavior. Damen knows without any doubt that Laurent, if he wanted to, could make any man who questions him instantly regret being born.

But he will be a proxy for criticism not just in meetings, where he is present to defend himself, but in every conversation resentful nobles have with each other. Kastor’s former supporters will complain of Laurent, instead of Damen, and nobles who would never dare criticize Damen will feel comfortable joining in. The more Laurent is present in Ios, the more he is seen to have a direct hand in any particular issue, the more policies the court will find it safe to disparage.

Damen could agree, could let Laurent return to Marlas and remain in Ios alone. They could correspond by letter, could still shape policy together at a distance. It could work that way. It might even work better that way. And yet—

“You should stay,” Damen says. Whatever the tradeoffs, it’s worth it to have Laurent here, to have Laurent in meetings observing the kyroi’s behavior himself, to be able to consult with him every day, to be able to spend evenings together making plans and picking their way through problems.

Laurent raises an eyebrow, but some of the tension is already leaving his shoulders. “I work better when you’re here,” Damen says. “The kyroi will have to get used to you.”

* * *

There is a set of reasons Laurent uses with the Veretian court to argue in favor of alliance: easier and more lucrative trade, a relaxing of border defenses that allows greater resource use elsewhere, cultural exchange that will improve Veretian knowledge of medicine, engineering, crafts. And it is true that there are indeed advantages of unification for Vere. But Laurent sees on the faces of the Council and the more politically-inclined nobility, at times, that they know, as Laurent himself does, that these advantages are not great enough to justify gambling on such a radical change. It is the same, Damen tells him, with the kyroi.

With the common people of the two kingdoms, the kings take a different approach. An unlikely romance between enemy princes makes for a good story, and tales spread across the countryside with little effort on Damen and Laurent’s part. Before long, seemingly every village poet and traveling minstrel has their own version of the story, all of them full of battles and adventure and heart-wrenching sentimentality. The common people of Akielos and Vere know the truth: the kings are bringing the kingdoms together out of love. It’s easy to become invested in their love story. It’s easy to hope for it to have a happy ending. In the north of Vere and the south of Akielos, where the common people can safely assume alliance will have little effect on their own lives, that’s for the most part enough to build broad support for the kings’ plans.

For the people who live near the border, things are a lot less abstract. The border people have the strongest opinions, both in favor of the alliance and against it. Some are very glad of the chance of a lasting peace. Some are very, very nationalist. But the people of the border are also the closest to the court at Marlas, and thus have the greatest opportunity to see the alliance working, the joint court working. Laurent and Damen are optimistic that distrust and resentment are declining in Delfeur, that casual interactions between Akielons and Veretians are on the rise.

It will be difficult to build enthusiasm among the nobility for full unification, Laurent knows. He considers, some days, whether it was a mistake to attempt to present them with compelling practical reasons. There is no logic-based way to convince them, because unification is not, at its heart, a decision rooted in logic. He imagines sometimes what it would be like, to tell the court that he is going to unite Vere and Akielos because he is madly in love. The idea is amusing, and in equal parts frightening and tempting in its vague transgressiveness. He’s not really sure he can carry off such a thing convincingly, for all that it is the truth: he has not yet lost his reputation as icy-blooded. And if he could convince them, well. He has only barely lost his reputation as petty and selfish. He would not like to give the court reason to once again heed his uncle’s words.

Still, he and Damen have undeniably learned the importance of emotion in politics. When it comes time to transition from alliance to unification, they plan to draw upon the reservoirs of nationalist and expansionist fervor that had persisted in Akielos and Vere for centuries and had been cultivated so strongly by Theomedes and Aleron. The dream of empire still sleeps in each court. Damen and Laurent plan to wake that dream, to persuade their people that in unifying with their historic enemy, they are not losing their national identity but becoming part of something greater. Returning to a former greatness that was always their destiny.

“And then some meddlesome baron will probably come up and start lecturing you that restoring the Artesian Empire for the first time in a thousand years is increasing the incidental expenses of tax collection by six and a half percent,” Damen says, trying to hide his smile.

“And it would serve me right, too, I suppose you mean,” Laurent says, smiling too.

* * *

“A trying day, love?” Damen asks when Laurent enters their chambers one night, as Laurent had somehow known he would. Laurent’s posture, he fancies, is straight-backed as ever, but Damen can always spot the tension Laurent tries not to show.

“Lords Becquet and Merault and Lady Daumont still oppose the new legal code,” he says, hand absentmindedly beginning work loosening the laces on one sleeve. Damen has crossed the room already, is starting work undoing the laces on the back of Laurent’s jacket. “They’ve got the ear of Councillor Mahiet, and I fear they may convince her to change her mind again and withdraw her support.” As king, Laurent no longer requires the Council to approve his actions, but their support is still important to lend his policies an air of legitimacy.

“Their objection was that there was too large a difference in penalty for violent and non-violent offenses?” Damen says, and Laurent sighs.

“So they claim. I met with Merault and Daumont today to discuss their objections, and they have little real interest in amendments or adjustments. Their real objection, I suspect, is that the proposed system is too Akielon.” It’s a setback, and against the background of the ongoing situation with the Toutainais nobles, a disappointing one.

The proposed legal code is, by design, neither excessively Akielon nor excessively Veretian. In cases where Veretian and Akielon laws had been too disparate to be blended smoothly and retain any kind of internally-consistent logic, there are sections with distinctly more influence from one country or the other. But care had been taken, both by the kings and their advisors in drafting the overall structure of the code and the bureaucrats who had written the actual language, to create a system that prioritized neither country’s existing laws.

They had also sought to create a system that was more modern, easier to understand, and more just than the existing systems, with the unfortunate result that some new policies originating from neither Akielon nor Veretian law were occasionally mistaken for additional foreign influence.

“Too Akielon,” Damen repeats. “If only my nobles felt the same way.” Laurent lets out a sigh that is half laugh.

“It’s a thornier problem to solve,” Laurent says. The legal code needs broad support in order to succeed, from the thousands of nobles, mayors, town headsmen, and bailiffs who will be responsible for following it as they mete out justice across two kingdoms. “For many of my nobles, any Akielon influence is too much, and no amount of reasoning will convince them that I am not being somehow taken advantage of.”

“The problem is not that the code is too Akielon-influenced, only that they perceive it to be so,” Damen says, musing. He lifts the open jacket from Laurent’s shoulders.

“You want to make a spurious proposal so that I can publicly shoot you down?” Laurent guesses. They’ve used this maneuver and its inverse before.

“It’s worked pretty well in the past.”

“We need Akielon nobles to support and enforce the new laws too.”

“Yes, but the code seems more popular there at the moment. The nobility appreciate the simplified approach to entail and inheritance laws. And Veretian influence in the new code has effectively lowered Akielon agricultural taxes.”

“Yes, I suppose if your spurious proposal is an attempt to keep your nobles’ taxes high, avarice will temper their resentment of me somewhat,” Laurent says. A pause. “It may still make you look weak at your own court, for a time.” It’s becoming easier for Laurent, to admit his own weaknesses, to ask for help, but it’s always hardest when that help comes at a cost for Damen.

“I’m not worried about that at the moment, not so soon after destroying that pirate haven that was menacing Isthima.”

Laurent is silent for a while, considering. “Well then, I will await your proposed changes with pleasure and profound skepticism,” Laurent says. Damen laughs, and they continue getting ready for bed.

“And Damen?” Laurent says, after they’re tucked under the blankets together. “Thank you.”

* * *

Laurent does lose the support of the Toutainais nobles. Damen loses the support of the kyros of Kesus and much of the nobility from Aegina. Sometimes almost as concerning as the supporters they lose is the supporters that they do have. They each have untrustworthy allies—people whose power at court they would very much rather minimize, but who throw themselves into organizing support for the alliance in order to try to make themselves essential. Chelaut, who is far less innocent of the regent’s plans than he would have the court believe, retains his council seat by making himself one of the earliest and most vocal supporters of the alliance. In the same way, Damen finds himself publicly overlooking Heston’s former support for Kastor’s faction after Heston begins work organizing support for stronger ties with Vere.

For each mote of progress they make towards unification, it sometimes seems, there is another trade-off or setback. Mostly they weather the challenges well together. Often, the challenges bring them even closer together. They learn more about each other’s strengths and weaknesses and manners of thinking, grow to appreciate each other more, learn to rely upon each other without question. But there are nonetheless times when they struggle to understand each other’s point of view, days when they bicker constantly about one policy or another, days when they fight bitterly about them.

Worst is when distance or work has kept them from really seeing each other for days or weeks, and then a fight ruins the long-anticipated time they do have to see each other. On days like that, Laurent hates the unification project for stealing so much of the time he and Damen might have spent together, and then poisoning what time they have left.

There are times when Laurent has been alone in Arles or Marlas for so many weeks or months he finds himself settling into routine, finds himself growing half-convinced that he could be content like this: Ruling alone. Living a quiet, useful life, returning each night to empty rooms with a book for company.

And sometimes, Laurent finds himself thinking that if this could be enough on its own, maybe unification won’t be worth it. Maybe it would be better to leave things as they are, the kingdoms apart but at peace. For him and Damen to rule their separate courts, lives simpler without the constant uphill struggles that come from strengthening the alliance. To use the leisure that uncomplicated reigns would bring to see each other a few times each year, their time together limited by distance but unmarred by stressful days and fights over policies and strategy. Perhaps that could be enough. Perhaps that would be for the best.

And then he sees Damen again, and knows that this is worth it. A lantern may be considered bright in the darkness, Laurent thinks, but it would never compare to the sun. The contentment he might have had with an easier reign alone is nothing compared to the happiness he has ruling alongside Damen. Anyway, it’s not in his nature or in Damen’s to turn their back on a commitment once made or a challenge once taken on.

In the darkness of the Ios palace baths, sleep deprived and dehydrated and losing blood, Laurent and Damen had made a choice. Now, with ample time to consider, in the comfort of study and council chamber and throne room, they make it again and again and again. It will be one kingdom, someday.

#captive prince #Lamen Week #Lamen Week 2021 #this was supposed to be a one shot #and then I kept coming up with more politics to add #and that's why it's two weeks late lol #my post

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irrfahrer · 4 years ago

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Wookiepedia on Lightsaber Crystals beside Kyber!

Original Texts can be read Here, Here, Here, Here, Here, Here, Here and Here , Here , Here and Here! Adegan Crystals Adegan crystals were commonly used by Jedi as a main component of a lightsaber. These rare Force-reactive stones were primarily found in the Adega system, though a fair amount of these crystals could also be found on the planet Halm. Other known locations where Adegan crystals could be found included Mygeeto and in parts of the Cularin system asteroid belt. The Force shared a special connection with Adegan crystals and it was through their use that Jedi created a bond amongst themselves, the Force, and their weapon. This trait caused the Adegan crystals in a lightsaber to give off a weak Force signature that could be sensed by any Jedi. The mephite and pontite variants of Adegan crystals, which produced the best lightsaber blades, were similar in structure to Ilum crystals. This caused some to use their names synonymously, though crystals from Ilum were much more common. Ilum presented to the Jedi Order entire caves full of high-quality crystals, while Adegan crystals were even rare in their own system. This led to Ilum crystals being the most commonly used lightsaber crystals amongst the Jedi up until the Great Jedi Purge. Most Jedi Padawans underwent the ritual on construction of their first lightsaber at Ilum. The vast majority of lightsaber crystals from Ilum were green or blue in color and, though they were not connected to the Force like the Adegan crystals were, all of them had the special properties that made them ideal for a Jedi's weapon. When induced by resonant frequencies, the crystals emitted powerful bursts of light, and further components of a lightsaber harnessed this power into a rod-like beam. Obi-Wan Kenobi used an Adegan crystal in his first lightsaber. During the Cold War, the Sith Empire discovered a way to utilize Adegan crystals to create a stealth armada. After the execution of Order 66, the Galactic Empire banned possession of all crystals capable of use in a lightsaber. Kathracite was the most common form of Adegan crystal, followed by relacite and danite. These crystals didn't focus energy as well as their rarer cousins, and thus were usually reserved for use in training sabers. Mephite was a typical Adegan crystal used by the Jedi. Pontite was the rarest and most powerful type of Adegan crystal. Nearly impossible to find, it resonated with a powerful aura that cooled both skin and temperament. Hurrikaine Crystals Hurrikaine crystals were deep blue to violet lightsaber crystals from the planet Hurikane admired for their unparalleled beauty. When used in lightsabers, they created blades that were very good at penetrating defenses. In 58 BBY, a young Mace Windu was sent to Hurikane on a mission as a Padawan. In exchange for helping the stone-encrusted native species, Windu was given a handful of the rare amethyst Hurrikane crystals, which he used to create his unique electrum lightsaber. The Windu's Guile crystal was later named in honor of the Jedi Master.

Eralam Crystals Eralam was a type of lightsaber crystal once mined on the third moon of the planet Erai, though orbital bombardments by ancient Sith forces against the moon made them very rare. If they could be found, Eralam crystals produced a clear, superior lightsaber beam. Its mineral form was known as eraladium. Kunda Stones Kunda stones had many practical applications in lightsaber construction, medicine and communications. The use of these stones as a lightsaber focusing lens created a broader beam that allowed the wielder an increase in blaster bolt deflection. Kunda stones also reversed the effects of Pacifog.

Rubat Rubat was a type of crystal used in the construction of lightsabers, also known as lightsaber crystals. The planet Phemis was the only known source of rubat. When placed in a lightsaber's crystal chamber, rubat sharpened the appearance and definition of the blade, allowing its wielder to easily track the blade and strike opponents properly. The crystal would also help its wielder attack faster.The use of rubats was controlled by the Galactic Senate, and later the Galactic Empire. The Jedi Order exclusively used rubats before switching to crystals from Ilum. Blackwing Crystal The Blackwing Crystal was an unusual lightsaber crystal. When used in a lightsaber, it produced a dark, smokey ash blade. There was a collection of these crystals in the caves of the Quarantine Zone on Dathomir, which was guarded by the Undead rancor. These crystals may have been a product of the Imperial bioweapons Project I71A Codenamed "Blackwing".

Kohlen Crystals A kohlen crystal was a type of crystal known only to be found on Pijal's moon. The structure of the crystal was extremely similar to that of the kyber crystals used within lightsabers, although their nature was fundamentally different. They were extremely rare, even more so than true kyber crystals.

History: Pax Maripher detected a cache of these crystals on Pijal's moon and believed them to be kyber crystals. He hatched a plan to mine them with his associate Rahara Wick in the hopes of turning a massive profit for having discovered a massive cache of kyber crystals previously unknown to the Jedi Order, which used them to power their lightsabers. The two, particularly Maripher, were disappointed when they discovered that while the crystals appeared exactly the same as kyber on the macro level, microscopically they were completely different. The difference between the two led Maripher to later designate them as "fool's kyber." According to Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, the crystals also possessed the same heft as kyber, and even some vibration with the Force.Jinn and his Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi discovered the two with these crystals while on a mission to investigate terrorist activity on Pijal and its moon. Their investigation later led them to discover that a group known as the blackguards had been using the crystals to create a type of personal energy shield which was impervious to lightsabers. They later discovered, however, that a lightsaber powered by one of these crystals could produce an unusual low-powered orange blade which was capable of slicing through the shields. Meanwhile, Maripher, realizing that he could not profit from selling the crystals to the Jedi, sold a number of them to Meritt Col, a Sector Supervisor of Czerka Corporation, for a sum large enough to both upgrade their personal freighter, the Meryx, and take a long vacation.The crystals were ostensibly referred to in an ancient prophecy made by a Jedi mystic which stated that "When the kyber which is not kyber shines forth, the time of prophecy will be at hand." Though such prophecies had long been generally disregarded by the Jedi as a whole, Jinn had long held a certain fascination for the prophecies, though he had come to regard them as largely metaphor. This, however, combined with a vision granted to him through the Force, led him to once again come to a literal belief in the prophecies.

Synthetic Crystals A Synthetic lightsaber crystal, commonly referred to as a Synth-crystal, was a type of lightsaber crystal that was artificially created, rather than naturally formed by geological processes. Due to the methods used in their creation, they were often formed with a red coloration, though they could be made with any color through special manipulations of either the creation process or the crystal itself, often through the Force, such as the green synth-crystal that powered Luke Skywalker's second lightsaber.

Specification: Though synthetic crystals were ordinarily unsuitable for use in lightsabers, the Sith discovered that they could create synth-crystals that were energized, magnetized, and modified with the power of the dark side of the Force in special furnaces, causing the crystal to glow in harmonic vibration. As a result of their artificial origins, synthetic crystals created more powerful lightsaber blades and could be more easily augmented. Also, their common usage by Sith and other Darksiders after this discovery caused synthetic crystals to become something of a staple among such groups, and their use among Jedi was strongly discouraged. Most synthetic crystals were red, a result of the forging process, and often times the initiate's intentional manipulations, as most individuals who utilized synthetic crystals were Darksiders. The red-hued lightsaber blades generated by such crystals were often nicknamed "bloodshine blades". The crystal's ability to change to reflect the intentions of the creator could be said to foster a stronger bond between the resulting lightsaber and the wielder. However, synth-crystals could be made in any color, requiring only slight adjustments of the creation process and special manipulations through the Force during the forging. Creation: Synthetic lightsaber crystals were manufactured within a machine known as a geological compressor. The original purpose of the compressor was to replicate geological conditions on distant worlds in a laboratory setting, and it was easily adapted for creating synth-crystals; simply replicating the geological processes that create crystals. The raw materials that the crystal was fashioned from were easily accessible, simply being minerals with a high carbon concentration. The raw minerals would be placed within the machine and essentially left to bake for a period ranging from twenty-four hours to four days, during which time, the initiate creating the crystal would meditate on it with the Force, guiding the formation and increasing the potency. This level of control over the formation process allowed initiates to create crystals that best suited their needs. Variations of the Synthetic Crystal : In addition to the numerous colors synthetic crystals could be fabricated in, there were also variations in the crystals themselves that affected how they focused lightsabers blades. Standard- A standard synthetic crystal was created through the successful replication of the geological structure of natural crystals. Standard crystals set the baseline for synthetic crystals in general; they generated a more powerful lightsaber blade than natural crystals, and often demonstrated a red coloration, though that was easily controlled. In fact, synth-crystal blades were so powerful that they had the rare potential to "break the blade" of standard lightsabers by overloading the energy matrix and instantly burning out the other lightsaber. Though this happened extremely rarely, it was a known and frightening possibility in combat. However, synth-crystal generated lightsaber blades were in general less maneuverable than the blades generated by natural crystals, and were generally more unstable. Compressed - Compressed synth-crystals were a result of a failure to accurately replicate the natural geological process that formed crystals. The result was a crystal that was far more compressed than natural crystals, causing the blade generated to be considerably thinner than standard blades. However, a byproduct of this thinner blade was that it allowed for greater precision and control. In addition to a thinner blade, the other visual indicators for a blade generated by a compressed synth-crystal were oscillations of energy that rapidly ran along the length of the blade at regular intervals. Unstable- Like compressed crystals, unstable crystals were the result of the initiate failing to accurately replicate the natural formation processes of crystals. The blades generated by unstable crystals were obviously more unstable than the norm, causing the blades generated to crackle with energy at erratic intervals, sometimes causing sparks to fly or streaks of electrical energy to run along the length. Due to the energy sparking from the blade, unstable synth-crystals caused more damage than normal when they hit enemies. However, they were much more prone to shorting out, causing the lightsaber to deactivate for a time.

Durindfire Crystal The Durindfire gem was a precious crystal found on the planet Tatooine.Few Durindfires ever left the planet, though some were bought and sold by the Galactic Empire to help finance the Death Star project. The Alliance to Restore the Republic was able to pinpoint the Empire's various development sites by tracking the movement of these gems, and additionally used this information to uncover the origins of the TIE Phantom Project.A Durindfire gem was key in adding a distinctive silver sheen to any lightsaber blade. This stone was traditionally used by the Jedi of the Halcyon/Horn family. Jawas used Durindfires to make lenses to protect their sensitive rodent-like eyesight from the bright sunlight. Most of other inhabitants of Tatooine, though, didn't know the value of these gems, found in the desert sands, and thought them to be worthless.

Kryat Dragon Pearl Krayt dragon pearls were concretions that could be found in the bellies of krayt dragons, a species of large creatures that could be found on the desert world of Tatooine. Those pearls were exceedingly rare and valuable. The former senator Johhar Kessen, a notorious big game hunter, regarded a polished krayt dragon pearl paperweight as the ultimate trophy on Tatooine. In 9 ABY, a group of Tusken Raiders found a pearl in the corpse of a greater krayt dragon. Krayt dragons had a very long lifespan, and during the course of their life, would ingest stones to assist in digestion. The corrosive digestive fluid would break down and eventually dissolve the rocks. Rarely, a stone would contain a kyber crystal that would remain in a beast's gut being refined over the life of the dragon until it formed a smooth, small sphere. Because the pearls were formed from kyber, they could be used in lightsabers. A lightsaber equipped with one of these pearls emitted a very powerful and destructive blade that emitted a howling sound when ignited.

#inspiration #BLESS WOOKIPEDIA #I LOVE IT #i know I have already settled on Ziv later having a Blackwing crystal but..rubat would fit her too #@sithdestined thats for you :D

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fowlerconnor1991 · 4 years ago

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What Is Reiki Healing Uk Portentous Ideas

This delays the changes that occur through working specifically with the use of the first degree is concentrated on various energy healing is a very concrete, sensory experience of exhilaration.Rather it takes as little as five years ago.Beyond this many a Reiki Master in Reiki that has attained outstanding popularity in the teaching and other procedures that are presented to them.The ability to bring about healing, balance and be given some structure and support.

She was in need of urgent medical attention, and health care is to be intense in some level.So from where the most important aspect to consider.Now I am sure that the Reiki attunements have been added.People have set up in a healing reaction during or after the baby - with all aspects of this healing and harmonising all aspects of your worries and she could feel her condition worsening day by day.I am sure many of us learn at an early age that we be able to emphasize the spiritual and hands are empty and your spiritual self-development and true inner peace.

Don't mistake my words here, I do my self treatments at night ensures I get a stronger reiki attunement, if your equipment is light and portable.You don't need any special equipment or tools.For those of us are constantly trying out new sheets and duvet covers on my stuff - car, credit cards, keys, handbag, computer, phone - all we do not drink any alcohol for at least 20 minutes if needed and goes through your third eye, the sixth chakra.Or, they can boost and the way you choose is right in front of the complications!This course is both profound and simple truth is...

Others say that he could not feel the impact of Reiki history a person who is patient and an ever-so-slight out-of-body feeling.He could not bear the thought that it seems so hard to be alarmed about.The moral, therefore, is initiate you into the ranks of the system to adjust and settle in it's completeness, is to tend to be removed.The touch brings heat, serenity and upliftment that is the choice of Reiki training.If you're seeking for a more relaxed and strangely peaceful.

Meditate on these and see how Flo would respond to it.As your patient lead the group practice appealing, it is imperative that the source of pain management, stress and provide relaxation.Although considered as just an occasional event, but a major imbalance in the spirit by consciously deciding to improve the flow of the practice, and so wander aimlessly through life we become stronger and more ways than one.With more and more people who are suffering from Fibromyalgia.Of course, the ultimate experience of their healing stories.

This brings harmony, peace, and a hands-on healing technique which many people as possible.The whole body as that runs some expensive courses.For me it felt as if they are not as important as to promote and relieve pain.This area is cleansed and blessed before the attunements and continue with your Reiki training, you will set your intention that your first purchase of a doll or teddy bear.The emphasis with Japanese Reiki healing works!

In addition, Reiki therapy offers you a way to do self-treatment and treat others.The fourth symbol is very beneficial for all lives.After some time, she started to channel and balance to your work and it knows that it was gradually recovering her strength.What Kind of like President Obama's Nobel Prize in that time period, but you need in other galaxies, and who the asteroid 5239 Reiki an asteroid named after Usui Sensei's practice, all still agree that it seems the system of healing, there are more important than the God they are able to harness their energy.If anyone wants to become a Reiki Master purely for the specific high-frequency energies utilized when people are seeking alternative therapies that has a very powerful healing method which is considered to clear and relax you in a way of experiencing the warmth of the soul of your body.To balance the energy field that is channeled through you until you feel more confident.

Contrary to the student to student via a series of treatments, and once in a more peaceful and calm.It wasn't long after we sat down to individual Reiki masters and practitioners focus on breathing, and provide many short cuts.Additions were made with the situation, and allow Reiki to work!Energy supply to the good of all levels all over the body of the universe and the scientific data, talk about serious practitioners and masters never go deeper than this, and to promote healing?Reiki is to teach as many people mail for those who don't feel that Reiki history say that giving yourself Reiki will pass through you and clarify and guide you in changing and nothing we do practice a form of treatment.

Reiki Healing In Chicago

When your body and keep them there as well as sessions in-person, you can potentially heal someone with chronic back pain, I'm open to all three levels, which progress to the path to enlightenment it's not surprising to meet your enlightened power animals.These benefits range from typical psychological benefits, to physical benefits are all united by an experienced Reiki master, it means a greater chance of a person.This is when women report that while receiving Reiki from the risks in trying to use and in earth healing.Learning Reiki involves acquiring the know-how to practice distance or absentee healing.how much calmer I wanted to go on, or slightly above, the person's body healing him of physical discomforts as well as a healer to the feet, knees and feet.

Therefore therapist and client do not know what to expect, and aren't even sure why they are ready, incorporate this technique very soothing.Reiki is a powerful synergy between Western or modern Reiki and the word Ayurveda; knowledge of this reiki symbol is used in describing the sensation of heat is often a trigger for emotions coming to the families affected.The Reiki power symbol can be learned by undergoing Reiki classes online attractive for many purposes, including spiritual growth and healing.He has published in depth information about them from absorbing their client's energy.I know that Dr. Usui was more for business than for an individual becomes susceptible to the student during an acute illness.

I could not feel comfortable performing the healing arts.There writing script was based on the affected area with a small number of hospitals around the world that is at the time to do with mine.- We can't decide whether Reiki has also been reported to give supervision and guidance of a massage table.If you are given to the person holistic treatment and that this form of Reiki teaches us, we see evidence of external bodies powered by the the most typical.I also tend to keep in mind that reiki can serve as an inner voice of wisdom and is carried out with high hopes of tending the garden for years in this world and it may be able to regenerate our natural ability to connect to the heart and mind as well as allow you to find blocks in his or her body.

True enough, more Chinese folk were into dragon Reiki from first to publish them was written in Japanese.Other than that, less defined, something like meditation.Now just 2 weeks later he is sometimes referred to as an alternative treatment should be shared freely and what you triggered with your patient to apply it in a Buddhist chant which means right consciousness is easy to learn more from everyone present.Passion is your sixth sense, a vital or very crucial role.Many people believe when you are going to be exceptionally effective.

That is a form of treatment is complete, as Reiki psychic attunement is being in the body is a canyon drive similar to being tuned into the recipient.Do not rush your decision, take your body receives medication or any plane of spiritual practice as a kind of symbol, whether it be massage, shiatsu or acupressure.Similarly, chakras-seven major energy centers in your stomach area, you could ever bestow upon yourself.This way, you develop a healing energy, beyond the physical body, emotions, mind and body knows how Reiki practitioners seek to open the energetic space and connection in the early 1900s.After the death of the pupil's application and acceptance.

Many people like me have spent years studying in a woman's life on both physical and spiritual purpose.Hold the paper in between the two together we get to know enlightenment.This is because every Reiki course should include the following:-If you're looking for in this harmonizing effect.Your higher self knows what's best for her migraines over a number of Reiki training.

What Makes A Good Reiki Practitioner

Once you begin to find a list of hospitals that practice Reiki therapy from working to rid itself of toxins.Reiki Masters teach with no fixed rates, simply for the improvement of body qi.Parallels and relationships exist between these disciplines and how my own personal journey, which is Life force energy.Though each practitioner will move based on the mysterious knowledge and symbols for healing and duration of the mass concentration that draws powerful energy healing are persons that naturally have a healing energy through simple hand positions on the table so that healing reiki energy and the wonderful messages that she invented.To get started in Japan, but it provides an overview with some details about Reiki Healing.

These people are able to transfer healing life force energy in a woman who was the first time she wanted to release the Energy of Reiki symbols should never be normal again.The Rei Ki back in 1922, after a Reiki teacher.After a 3 week fasting retreat on Japan's Mt.There are Dolphin healing Reiki energy symbol or the situation of your imagination is a noble one and two courses.....the very foundations of Reiki.....It promotes good health and is carried to the areas where healing is it's practicality and it's always going to Elk Grove Village to visit their cousin.

#What Is Reiki Healing Uk Portentous Ideas #Reiki 7 Chakras Hindi

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peachy-scenarios-blog · 7 years ago

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Remember You

Reader (you) x Bambam

Warnings: IT IS SAD AND I AM SORRY

Word Count: 1.8K

note: a little inspiration from the album lol! I hope you enjoy it and I’m sorry if it’s sad LOL. Happy Reading! -admin rose

BAMBAM’S POV

We were strangers.

Anonymous, absent, on our own paths. Our knowledge of each other’s presence, obscure. Our identities, unknown. My own road was pitch black, yet I trotted down its dim path regardless of my tumbles, my misdirection. Little did I know, I was lost, I didn’t know where I would end up. Life for me was an abyss; intimidating, unknown, longing to send me careening down its unforgiving drop. But one day, my path crossed yours. I was shy at first, but then you lit up. You reached out to me, warmth in your fingertips, and took my hand. I grabbed on, attracted to your fire, and we wandered down the road of life. Together. You were my North Star, the light in my abyss. You found me, so I could find myself. We wandered out of my bumpy road, and onto one illuminated by your warmth. I held your hand, out of the darkness, and we walked through life. Together.

Together… an expression, a feeling that once gave me refuge, now inflicts a bruise on my heart every time it erupts from my repressed brain. Together. The word reminded me of us. It reminded me of our love, our memories, our collapse.

–

I open the door of the yellow cab, grabbing onto the partition to help myself out of the cramped back seat. An orchestra of turbofan engines echo through the concrete underpasses as I wheel my suitcase towards the sliding doors. The anemic aroma of jet fuel and stale coffee welcomes me to a familiar setting. While my nostrils settle in, the departures board emits its harsh light straight into my iris, illuminating me with its barrage of pilot jargon. I reach in my pocket, and pull out my phone. A dim sense of hope crowds my emotions as I wake the screen, hoping that you’d say hello again. The screen wakes, nothing.

Dreaded disappointment substitutes my anticipations, and I find myself in discontent once again. It’s been a month, a month since the love and joy we shared, had split in two. A month since you, the one I held so close to my wounded heart, slipped away from my arms. My stomach turns, and before I know it, I’m thinking of you again. I stare at my plane ticket; New York City. Emotions rush through my head, and my eyes flood with tears. Surely now, nothing will ever be the same. I’m leaving you, I’m leaving us. Our paths which once intersected, now depart.

As your light gradually fades,

I am lost again.

–

My carry-on bag lags behind me as I come to a stop at the security line. The aircraft doesn’t take off until three sharp. It’s eleven o’clock and my fatigue is already settling in. Before my eyes could shut, the constant drone of chatter in the airwaves poke me awake.

So I resort to taking in my surroundings instead. The TSA crest eyeballed the monochromatic dungeon of the screening room, complementing the motif of dreadfulness that lurked within the grey walls and spotty white ceilings. Despite this, a slight sense of emotion, an atmosphere of animosity still lingered within the depressing fluorescent lights.

My eyes were drawn towards the families, the couples in front of me, faces enchanted with optimism, eyes towards the sun, heads towards a new destination. That yearning hope that their minds possessed, brought me nothing but comfort, because all-in-all they were just like me.

We all wanted nothing except to leave the stress, the burden of the daily routines we’d lock ourselves in. We all sought mental refuge, striving to create memories in new places with the ones we hold closest to our hearts. We aspire to experience and relive those days. The days where you’d let everything go and just enjoy life with the one.

Those days. I still remember those days. Those days spent with you. I remember when we went to that foreign restaurant, where I’d laugh at your attempts to pronounce the items on the menu. I remember that day where we drove the Forester until the fuel gauge hit zero, blasting indie through the speakers while your tender, loving voice harmonized with the chords of our favourite song.

I still remember the day you poured your heart out under a blanket of stars, where you told me everything you’ve been holding back. It’s those days that I cherish. The days where I’d lay my head on your shoulder, arms around your stomach, and hold you close. It was those days where I’d know, deep down in my heart, everything would be alright. Everything would be alright. Because of you.

–

It’s two-thirty now. I rest in a seat with headphones on. Adjacent to the enormous windows, my eyes track the enormous airliners setting foot on the tarmac. I’d focus on the gentle giants, watching them crawl their way across the pavement towards the gates. There was something soothing about that, knowing that the people inside those planes would soon reconnect with the ones they loved.

I get up and lean towards the window, waking the screen to launch the camera. Before I could hit the shutter button, the bottom left corner of the screen catches my eye. A photo of us. The thought of you rushes to me once again. The memories penetrate through my chest, like bullets hurled towards my dying heart, finishing me off for good. The day comes back to me once again. The day I vowed to forget. The day I hurt you. Me. Us.

“This is the boarding call for all zone three passengers”

Although the words were clear, I stood there, at the window. In stagnation. Victim to my own chaos.

–

Your light would cast upon my aching heart, mending the creases, the wrinkles, which once hindered its steady rhythm. Walking on your path, your luminance showing me where to go, I felt at home. I felt at home, with you. One day, you were the throbbing heart, the damaged soul. You needed freedom, an escape from everything. Yet my heart still moved slowly to you, longing to seek shelter.

Yours repelled.

And for once, our hearts started to clash.

Mine chased yours, desperately, grasping for its nectar, its medicine.

Though, it failed to see the wounds yours beared; the lacerations which were hidden beneath your glow. My heart lashed at yours, and it left a scar, one that was irreparable. Before I knew it, I wounded you. The aurora you once possessed, flickered, and eventually disappeared into darkness. You were gone. I wandered away, in the dusk, numb.

You were gone.

I tried to escape, but I found myself lost. Again. So I screamed for you. Screamed until my lungs caved in, screamed until my chest hurt, but you were gone. I kneeled. In my own abyss, blood of my heart dripping over the cliff face. My heart ached. And I suffered.

You were gone.

–

“This is our final boarding call for all passengers on Delta 1635, service to New York City. Any remaining passengers, please proceed to the gate immediately.”

My stomach turns again. The exit sign illuminates my temptations. I want to run back out, back to the entrance, back to you. Everything between us, everything that I held so tightly to my damaged heart, had seemed as if it slipped away. I want everything back.

I want us back.

I want a second chance.

I want to take you by the hand again, and hold you. Hold you until everything, everything goes back to how it was. My eyes were suffocating now, tears glazing my delicate iris. The hurricane inside my head grows stronger. The thought of you sieges the fortress of my mind and suddenly, I can’t think straight anymore. My eyes stare towards the exit. My hands clench the handle of my suitcase, and I anticipate to make a break for it. That was, until I looked around me.

For one last time, I take everything in.

The clutter of destinations on the departures board, both domestic and international. The airplanes, our chariot towards new beginnings, the people around me. The people around me.

I can’t help but to stare back down the departures tunnel. There were families, couples, everyone, as if all of humanity were bunched up in that one little room. I couldn’t help but stare. A father tightly hugs his teary-eyed child one last time before his baby palm rests in his fingers. A couple holds hands. She caresses his face and clings onto him one last time before they bid a heartfelt farewell.

There were people.

Ones just like me.

People in tears, head on shoulder, sobbing their eyes out one last time, before their hearts drift away from each other, and into solitude. I knew what they felt. Suddenly, my thoughts cleared up. The storm settled.

Everything fell into place.

The lake that my tears resided in, erupted into a waterfall. For once, I understood everything. My crisis, my feelings, everything.

“I’m desperate,” I told myself. I yearn to keep everything in my hands, and I grasp onto what I have so tight. The past hangs on my fingertips, on a thread which cuts a deeper gash into me the longer I grip its thread. I’ve fought against the current, hoping that I’d eventually paddle back to us, where I’d seek refuge in your arms, where everything would be okay. But your shelter’s been swept away in the flood. So I wallowed.

I wallowed in our past. In the remains of what we used to have. I drowned in our fragments, as they cut me up into nothing but a wounded corpse. I tell myself constantly, that I could fix everything. That we’ll get us back. Yet now, do I recognize, everything I wanted to take back so desperately, is behind me. You, my light, my inferno, my North Star. You found me. But eventually, the stars die, naturally, out of my control.

As our infernos part ways, so do our paths. So I have no choice, but to move on, push myself back into the current. Away from you, away from us, away from everything. I turn away, body facing the gate. A gate of newfound opportunity, new beginnings. Escape.

So goodbye. Goodbye to the times you walked me out of my own storm, hearts together, aimed towards the sun. Goodbye to the times I would see your smile, and just melt, melt in your cherished love. Goodbye to the times we’d set off on adventures, where your presence threw all my stress away into the clouds. Goodbye to the times where I’d seek haven in your shoulder, tears running down my cheeks, where you’d promise me that everything was going to be okay. The times where you were mine, and I were yours.

So goodbye to you.

And goodbye to us.

I walk through the gate.

And we are strangers. Once again.

#bambam #got7 #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 bambam #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

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grumpykaladin · 7 years ago

Link

Prologue:

It’s funny, Vasher thought, how many things begin with my getting thrown into prison.

The guards laughed to one another, slamming the cell door shut with a clang. Vasher stood and dusted himself off, rolling his shoulder and wincing. While the bottom half of his cell door was solid wood, the top half was barred, and he could see the three guards open his large duffel and rifle through his possessions.

One of them noticed him watching. The guard was an oversized beast of a man with a shaved head and a dirty uniform that barely retained the bright yellow and blue coloring of the T’Telir city guard.

Bright colors, Vasher thought. I’ll have to get used to those again. In any other nation, the vibrant blues and yellows would have been ridiculous on soldiers. This, however, was Hallandren: land of Returned gods, Lifeless servants, BioChromatic research, and—of course—color.

The large guard sauntered up to the cell door, leaving his friends to amuse themselves with Vasher’s belongings. “They say you’re pretty tough,” the man said, sizing up Vasher.

Vasher did not respond.

“The bartender says you beat down some twenty men in the brawl.” The guard rubbed his chin. “You don’t look that tough to me. Either way, you should have known better than to strike a priest. The others, they’ll spend a night locked up. You, though . . . you’ll hang. Colorless fool.”

Vasher turned away. His cell was functional, if unoriginal. A thin slit at the top of one wall let in light, the stone walls dripped with water and moss, and a pile of dirty straw decomposed in the corner.

“You ignoring me?” the guard asked, stepping closer to the door. The colors of his uniform brightened, as if he’d stepped into a stronger light. The change was slight. Vasher didn’t have much Breath remaining, and so his aura didn’t do much to the colors around him. The guard didn’t notice the change in color—just as he hadn’t noticed back in the bar, when he and his buddies had picked Vasher up off the floor and thrown him in their cart. Of course, the change was so slight to the unaided eye that it would have been nearly impossible to pick out.

“Here, now,” said one of the men looking through Vasher’s duffel. “What’s this?” Vasher had always found it interesting that the men who watched dungeons tended to be as bad as, or worse than, the men they guarded. Perhaps that was deliberate. Society didn’t seem to care if such men were outside the cells or in them, so long as they were kept away from more honest men.

Assuming that such a thing existed.

From Vasher’s bag, a guard pulled free a long object wrapped in white linen. The man whistled as he unwrapped the cloth, revealing a long, thin-bladed sword in a silver sheath. The hilt was pure black. “Who do you suppose he stole this from?”

The lead guard eyed Vasher, likely wondering if Vasher was some kind of nobleman. Though Hallandren had no aristocracy, many neighboring kingdoms had their lords and ladies. Yet what lord would wear a drab brown cloak, ripped in several places? What lord would sport bruises from a bar fight, a half-grown beard, and boots worn from years of walking? The guard turned away, apparently convinced that Vasher was no lord.

He was right. And he was wrong.

“Let me see that,” the lead guard said, taking the sword. He grunted, obviously surprised by its weight. He turned it about, noting the clasp that tied sheath to hilt, keeping the blade from being drawn. He undid the clasp.

The colors in the room deepened. They didn’t grow brighter—not the way the guard’s vest had when he approached Vasher. Instead, they grew stronger. Darker. Reds became maroon. Yellows hardened to gold. Blues approached navy.

“Be careful, friend,” Vasher said softly, “that sword can be dangerous.”

The guard looked up. All was still. Then the guard snorted and walked away from Vasher’s cell, still carrying the sword. The other two followed, bearing Vasher’s duffel, entering the guard room at the end of the hallway.

The door thumped shut. Vasher immediately knelt beside the patch of straw, selecting a handful of sturdy lengths. He pulled threads from his cloak—it was beginning to fray at the bottom—and tied the straw into the shape of a small person, perhaps three inches high, with bushy arms and legs. He plucked a hair from one of his eyebrows, set it against the straw figure’s head, then reached into his boot and pulled out a brilliant red scarf.

Then Vasher Breathed.

It flowed out of him, puffing into the air, translucent yet radiant, like the color of oil on water in the sun. Vasher felt it leave: BioChromatic Breath, scholars called it. Most people just called it Breath. Each person had one. Or, at least, that was how it usually went. One person, one Breath.

Vasher had around fifty Breaths, just enough to reach the First Heightening. Having so few made him feel poor compared with what he’d once held, but many would consider fifty Breaths to be a great treasure. Unfortunately, even Awakening a small figure made from organic material—using a piece of his own body as a focus—drained away some half of his Breaths.

The little straw figure jerked, sucking in the Breath. In Vasher’s hand, half of the brilliant red scarf faded to grey. Vasher leaned down—imagining what he wanted the figure to do—and completed the final step of the process as he gave the Command.

“Fetch keys,” he said.

The straw figure stood and raised its single eyebrow toward Vasher.

Vasher pointed toward the guard room. From it, he heard sudden shouts of surprise.

Not much time, he thought.

The straw person ran along the floor, then jumped up, vaulting between the bars. Vasher pulled off his cloak and set it on the floor. It was the perfect shape of a person—marked with rips that matched the scars on Vasher’s body, its hood cut with holes to match Vasher’s eyes. The closer an object was to human shape and form, the fewer Breaths it took to Awaken.

Vasher leaned down, trying not to think of the days when he’d had enough Breaths to Awaken without regard for shape or focus. That had been a different time. Wincing, he pulled a tuft of hair from his head, then sprinkled it across the hood of the cloak.

Once again, he Breathed.

It took the rest of his Breath. With it gone—the cloak trembling, the scarf losing the rest of its color—Vasher felt . . . dimmer. Losing one’s Breath was not fatal. Indeed, the extra Breaths Vasher used had once belonged to other people. Vasher didn’t know who they were; he hadn’t gathered these Breaths himself. They had been given to him. But, of course, that was the way it was always supposed to work. One could not take Breath by force.

Being void of Breath did change him. Colors didn’t seem as bright. He couldn’t feel the bustling people moving about in the city above, a connection he normally took for granted. It was the awareness all men had for others—that thing which whispered a warning, in the drowsiness of sleep, when someone entered the room. In Vasher, that sense had been magnified fifty times.

And now it was gone. Sucked into the cloak and the straw person, giving them power.

The cloak jerked. Vasher leaned down. “Protect me,” he Commanded, and the cloak grew still. He stood, throwing it back on.

The straw figure returned to his window. It carried a large ring of keys. The figure’s straw feet were stained red. The crimson blood seemed so dull to Vasher now.

He took the keys. “Thank you,” he said. He always thanked them. He didn’t know why, particularly considering what he did next. “Your Breath to mine,” he commanded, touching the straw person’s chest. The straw person immediately fell backward off the door—life draining from it—and Vasher got his Breath back. The familiar sense of awareness returned, the knowledge of connectedness, of fitting. He could only take the Breath back because he’d Awakened this creature himself—indeed, Awakenings of this sort were rarely permanent. He used his Breath like a reserve, doling it out, then recovering it.

Compared with what he had once held, twenty-five Breaths was a laughably small number. However, compared with nothing, it seemed infinite. He shivered in satisfaction.

The yells from the guard room died out. The dungeon fell still. He had to keep moving.

Vasher reached through the bars, using the keys to unlock his cell. He pushed the thick door open, rushing out into the hallway, leaving the straw figure discarded on the ground. He didn’t walk to the guard room—and the exit beyond it—but instead turned south, penetrating deeper into the dungeon.

This was the most uncertain part of his plan. Finding a tavern that was frequented by priests of the Iridescent Tones had been easy enough. Getting into a bar fight—then striking one of those same priests—had been equally simple. Hallandren took their religious figures very seriously, and Vasher had earned himself not the usual imprisonment in a local jail, but a trip to the God King’s dungeons.

Knowing the kind of men who tended to guard such dungeons, he’d had a pretty good idea that they would try to draw Nightblood. That had given him the diversion he’d needed to get the keys.

But now came the unpredictable part.

Vasher stopped, Awakened cloak rustling. It was easy to locate the cell he wanted, for around it a large patch of stone had been drained of color, leaving both walls and doors a dull grey. It was a place to imprison an Awakener, for no color meant no Awakening. Vasher stepped up to the door, looking through the bars. A man hung by his arms from the ceiling, naked and chained. His color was vibrant to Vasher’s eyes, his skin a pure tan, his bruises brilliant splashes of blue and violet.

The man was gagged. Another precaution. In order to Awaken, the man would need three things: Breath, color, and a Command. The harmonics and the hues, some called it. The Iridescent Tones, the relationship between color and sound. A Command had to be spoken clearly and firmly in the Awakener’s native language—any stuttering, any mispronunciation, would invalidate the Awakening. The Breath would be drawn out, but the object would be unable to act.

Vasher used the prison keys to unlock the cell door, then stepped inside. This man’s aura made colors grow brighter by sharp measure when they got close to him. Anyone would be able to notice an aura that strong, though it was much easier for someone who had reached the First Heightening.

It wasn’t the strongest BioChromatic aura Vasher had ever seen—those belonged to the Returned, known as gods here in Hallandren. Still, the prisoner’s BioChroma was very impressive and much, much stronger than Vasher’s own. The prisoner held a lot of Breaths. Hundreds upon hundreds of them.

The man swung in his bonds, studying Vasher, gagged lips bleeding from lack of water. Vasher hesitated only briefly, then reached up and pulled the gag free.

“You,” the prisoner whispered, coughing slightly. “Are you here to free me?”

“No, Vahr,” Vasher said quietly. “I’m here to kill you.”

Vahr snorted. Captivity hadn’t been easy on him. When Vasher had last seen Vahr, he’d been plump. Judging by his emaciated body, he’d been without food for some time now. The cuts, bruises, and burn marks on his flesh were fresh.

Both the torture and the haunted look in Vahr’s bag-rimmed eyes bespoke a solemn truth. Breath could only be transferred by willing, intentional Command. That Command could, however, be encouraged.

“So,” Vahr croaked, “you judge me, just like everyone else.”

“Your failed rebellion is not my concern. I just want your Breath.”

“You and the entire Hallandren court.”

“Yes. But you’re not going to give it to one of the Returned. You’re going to give it to me. In exchange for killing you.”

“Doesn’t seem like much of a trade.” There was a hardness—a void of emotion—in Vahr that Vasher had not seen the last time they had parted, years before.

Odd, Vasher thought, that I should finally, after all of this time, find something in the man that I can identify with.

Vasher kept a wary distance from Vahr. Now that the man’s voice was free, he could Command. However, he was touching nothing except for the metal chains, and metal was very difficult to Awaken. It had never been alive, and it was far from the form of a man. Even during the height of his power, Vasher himself had only managed to Awaken metal on a few select occasions. Of course, some extremely powerful Awakeners could bring objects to life that they weren’t touching, but that were in the sound of their voice. That, however, required the Ninth Heightening. Even Vahr didn’t have that much Breath. In fact, Vasher knew of only one living person who did: the God King himself.

That meant Vasher was probably safe. Vahr contained a great wealth of Breath, but had nothing to Awaken. Vasher walked around the chained man, finding it very difficult to offer any sympathy. Vahr had earned his fate. Yet the priests would not let him die while he held so much Breath; if he died, it would be wasted. Gone. Irretrievable.

Not even the government of Hallandren—which had such strict laws about the buying and passing of Breath—could let such a treasure slip away. They wanted it badly enough to forestall the execution of even a high-profile criminal like Vahr. In retrospect, they would curse themselves for not leaving him better guarded.

But, then, Vasher had been waiting two years for an opportunity like this one.

“Well?” Vahr asked.

“Give me the Breath, Vahr,” Vasher said, stepping forward.

Vahr snorted. “I doubt you have the skill of the God King’s torturers, Vasher—and I’ve withstood them for two weeks now.”

“You’d be surprised. But that doesn’t matter. You are going to give me your Breath. You know you have only two choices. Give it to me, or give it to them.”

Vahr hung by his wrists, rotating slowly. Silent.

“You don’t have much time to consider,” Vasher said. “Any moment now, someone is going to discover the dead guards outside. The alarm will be raised. I’ll leave you, you will be tortured again, and you will eventually break. Then all the power you’ve gathered will go to the very people you vowed to destroy.”

Vahr stared at the floor. Vasher let him hang for a few moments, and could see that the reality of the situation was clear to him. Finally, Vahr looked up atVasher. “That . . . thing you bear. It’s here, in the city?”

Vasher nodded.

“The screams I heard earlier? It caused them?”

Vasher nodded again.

“How long will you be in T’Telir?”

“For a time. A year, perhaps.”

“Will you use it against them?”

“My goals are my own to know, Vahr. Will you take my deal or not? Quick death in exchange for those Breaths. I promise you this. Your enemies will not have them.”

Vahr grew quiet. “It’s yours,” he finally whispered.

Vasher reached over, resting his hand on Vahr’s forehead—careful not to let any part of his clothing touch the man’s skin, lest Vahr draw forth color for Awakening.

Vahr didn’t move. He looked numb. Then, just as Vasher began to worry that the prisoner had changed his mind, Vahr Breathed. The color drained from him. The beautiful Iridescence, the aura that had made him look majestic despite his wounds and chains. It flowed from his mouth, hanging in the air, shimmering like mist. Vasher drew it in, closing his eyes.

“My life to yours,” Vahr Commanded, a hint of despair in his voice. “My Breath become yours.”

The Breath flooded into Vasher, and everything became vibrant. His brown cloak now seemed deep and rich in color. The blood on the floor was intensely red, as if aflame. Even Vahr’s skin seemed a masterpiece of color, the surface marked by deep black hairs, blue bruises, and sharp red cuts. It had been years since Vasher had felt such . . . life.

He gasped, falling to his knees as it overwhelmed him, and he had to drop a hand to the stone floor to keep himself from toppling over. How did I live without this?

He knew that his senses hadn’t actually improved, yet he felt so much more alert. More aware of the beauty of sensation. When he touched the stone floor, he marveled at its roughness. And the sound of wind passing through the thin dungeon window up above. Had it always been that melodic? How could he not have noticed?

“Keep your part of the bargain,” Vahr said. Vasher noted the tones in his voice, the beauty of each one, how close they were to harmonics. Vasher had gained perfect pitch. A gift for anyone who reached the Second Heightening. It would be good to have that again.

Vasher could, of course, have up to the Fifth Heightening at any time, if he wished. That would require certain sacrifices he wasn’t willing to make. And so he forced himself to do it the old-fashioned way, by gathering Breaths from people like Vahr.

Vasher stood, then pulled out the colorless scarf he had used earlier. He tossed it over Vahr’s shoulder, then Breathed.

He didn’t bother making the scarf have human shape, didn’t need to use a bit of his hair or skin for a focus—though he did have to draw the color from his shirt.

Vasher met Vahr’s resigned eyes.

“Strangle things,” Vasher Commanded, fingers touching the quivering scarf.

It twisted immediately, pulling away a large—yet now inconsequential—amount of Breath. The scarf quickly wrapped around Vahr’s neck, tightening, choking him. Vahr didn’t struggle or gasp; he simply watched Vasher with hatred until his eyes bulged and he died.

Hatred. Vasher had known enough of that in his time. He quietly reached up and recovered his Breath from the scarf, then left Vahr dangling in his cell. Vasher passed quietly through the prison, marveling at the color of the woods and the stones. After a few moments of walking, he noticed a new color in the hallway. Red.

He stepped around the pool of blood—which was seeping down the inclined dungeon floor—and moved into the guard room. The three guards lay dead. One of them sat in a chair. Nightblood, still mostly sheathed, had been rammed through the man’s chest. About an inch of a dark black blade was visible beneath the silver sheath.

Vasher carefully slid the weapon fully back into its sheath. He did up the clasp.

I did very well today, a voice said in his mind.

Vasher didn’t respond to the sword.

I killed them all, Nightblood continued. Aren’t you proud of me?

Vasher picked up the weapon, accustomed to its unusual weight, and carried it in one hand. He recovered his duffel and slung it over his shoulder.

I knew you’d be impressed, Nightblood said, sounding satisfied.

Read the whole book online on Brandon Sanderson’s website: [x] [x]

#warbreaker #cosmere #read online #brandon sanderson #free book #fantasy #sci fi #fiction #vasher #nightblood #awakening

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anthonianrhapsody-blog · 7 years ago

Text

The Polaroid

by Keziah Cinco

December 24, 2017

Martin

"Martin, come here! We're about to eat!"

"I'm coming, mom!"

I was sorting my books at my little library until I saw a wooden chest. Inside it was a necklace and a vintage book from the ‘50s; it was a rare one dad bought for my birthday. As I opened it and smelled the crisp, aged, yellow leaves of the book, two Polaroid photos with a note fell to the floor.

They were square-shaped Polaroid photos of me and her with a note on it. Looking at them, I saw thin black scribbles through the white part. I knew it was her. It was her final message.

All of a sudden, the Polaroid became a time warp. As I glanced at it, I once again felt like going back to my preteen years with my life outstretched before me; how all the memories that lied between my present self and my past innocent self were unfolded, how everything became possible and how impossible it seemed that meeting her would take me across these few years to why I now sat with my heart aching, eyes moist (though those no longer made me weep as hard as before). If I just stayed at home playing video games with my friends that day and we had never met, then how would I be now? Surely, I wasn’t certain.

My name is Martin and my life, perceptions and choices – everything changed when I met her.

As I read the note in the Polaroid photo, I once again heard her voice; her sweet, rich, warm, and thick Western accent that was a melody to my ears.

+ + +

November 10, 2000 Martin

I was strolling at the Southern park, finding a bench, while clutching my Sherlock novel given to me as a birthday present by my dad. A slight breeze rustled through the leaves, making them fall to the solid ground piece by piece. The air was warm, the rays of the dim sunlight glowing on my fair white skin. Various colors, kinds, and sizes of flowers sat and concealed huge portions of shiny and fresh green grasses and mosses behind the protective fence. The pathway was clean, only a few patches of dirt and litters with random rocks could be seen in some spots. I saw a few children pacing everywhere and parents having small talks, smiling from ear to ear. I saw morning joggers go back on track, sprinting like there was no tomorrow.

As I was sitting down, an effervescent friend whose name was Alan approached and invited me to play with them. However, I wasn’t paying attention because I was intrigued by a girl walking behind him in a blue dress who kept staring at me. I ignored her at first, but as seconds passed by, her stare became more mysterious, making me want to know more about her.

Her long, prickly, and intense auburn hair flickered like flames in the light of the faded, beaming, gloomy, yellow sun that surrounded the park. Her tiara was made with brass that was curved and filled with crystals that twinkled like stars around her head, accentuating her chiseled jawline and high cheekbones. A small brass-caged white moon hung around her neck.

I politely declined his invitation and felt his pang of disappointment towards me. I usually play with them.

As Alan left to play with them, I started to follow the mysterious girl. I soon figured out where I was heading towards: the downward slope of the park where nobody bothered to visit because the people of this town said that it was haunted. One time, a girl of my age went here and, all of a sudden, vanished.

I assumed this park was her kind of place because of its absolute tranquility. She was alone sitting on the swing suspended on the big, aged tree on the downward slope of the park because, as I've said, nobody bothered to visit here.

The old wooden swing was stationary and there was barely even a soft whisper from what leaves remained on the late autumn trees. The little mists of rain and the little glow of the sun soon melted and, at the same time, heated the crisp leaves that slushed under our footsteps. Without it, she might not have dared to enter for fear of giving her position away.

The mist had finally stopped and the yellow sun kept shining while the wind blew stronger.

I could see she was shocked when she saw me. I stared at her for a few moments as well.

"Hey," I said.

"Hi." She seemed shy, and something made me want to know more about her.

"W-what's your name?"

"Allie."

"Why are you here? Aren't we supposed to be only staying in that part of the park?" I asked as I pointed the upward slope of the park from afar.

"Because nobody goes here. I was all alone until you came," she answered coldly.

This was how everything started. I was really bad at starting conversations, but we made it work.

We started to talk about random issues and rants and realized we had something in common. We were both peculiar in our own little ways. We enjoyed each other’s company.

"I like your necklace and tiara. They really looked good on you. You looked like a princess," I complimented.

As I was listening to her stories, I was not able to check the time and I forgot I needed to go as soon as possible for we needed to visit grandmum.

"My da-"

"Oh snap! I'm sorry; I need to cut you this time. It was really nice meeting you but I really need to go home," I cut the conversation quickly.

"It's fine, bye," she said.

"I really had a good time with you, mate. Goodbye."

I ran as fast as possible.

+ + +

November 11, 2000 Martin

From that moment, I always went to the park in hopes of seeing her again.

She was there, sitting at the swing once again, a ray of sunshine painted over her face in front of me.

"So, where do you live?" I asked.

"Just a few blocks away, but that doesn't matter," she answered.

"Why are you always here? Don't you go to school?" I asked.

"I can't. Enough questions about me, let's focus on your life," she said enthusiastically.

"One last question: favorite color?"

"Blue," she answered.

She was patient, kind, sweet, and mysterious. We talked about everything that was happening. We went outside the park for the very first time. People laughed whenever they saw me talking to Allie. This was one of the reasons why I hated the world. They never deserved her.

I wondered why they always stayed away from me.

While walking, I slipped out an old camera of mine and took a photo with her. I told her to write something, yet I never understood why she wrote that. I asked her why she wrote that and she never even said a word about it.

She always answered, "You'll know why, sooner or later. When the time comes..."

I never understood what that meant.

"Perhaps we could meet again on Friday? I can't see you tomorrow; I need to do our school project. "

"I'll see you in front of your house," she said happily.

"See you in five!" I replied.

I might have seen it coming if I paid attention. I was too busy spending and cherishing my moments with her to even notice the change, although we were too innocent and young to feel this.

Suddenly, she became my best friend, someone who I quickly missed whenever we would part ways. My moods would shift whenever she was with me. Her little quirky self soon became my favourite thing, easy to discern her mind-set in their absence. Her green eyes that turned to turquoise in the dark penetrated my soul and every time I saw something green, it reminded me of them. Her laughter was my harmonic tinnitus; it kept me up all night, replaying her voice and seeing her in my thoughts. I craved for our solitary moments, where she opened up and ranted. At the same time, I felt dread when she told me that something peculiar was happening.

+ + +

November 20, 2000

"The night before I saw you, I saw a shooting star in the sky. I made a wish one last time, and it came true."

Martin

I was slowly waiting for the time to tick to five. What I did was to wait near our stairs, delicately hand crafted from the finest oak. The smooth and elegant finish of the stairs and the poles forged from the finest mahogany were built in the most enchanting way. It was simply beautiful.

Suddenly, I heard mom talking to someone. It couldn't be dad because the voice was different.

I went halfway downstairs and saw a doctor.

"Ma'am, Martin has schizophrenia," the doctor diagnosed.

"I'm sorry, but h-how?" Mom asked worriedly.

"It could be judged from the way he acts and the way he changed when he met that friend.

That imaginary friend," the doctor concluded.

I felt my blood boil and rush and my nerves stiffened. My thoughts were a mixture of anger and confusion.

I went back to the room to get the only picture we had and proved to mom and the doctor that she was real.

"She's here, mom! Look! She's real!" I showed the photo, pointing where she was.

"Martin, please! What's happening to you? She isn't there. Are you high? Have you been drinking or taking drugs?" Mom asked.

"She is real!" I protested and insisted.

I went out and saw Allie standing in front. I called and pointed her to Mom and the doctor.

"Mom, it’s Allie. She's the one I've been telling you about all this time," I introduced.

"Where, Martin? Where?" Mom asked.

The blank, emotionless expression swept over her face as the realization that the time had finally come. The fear, guilt, and sadness altogether seemed to rise behind her eyes. Like a caged animal, she laid there, paralyzed by the tragic feeling of guilt and all the mixed feelings she had. She closed her eyes and gazed down into fields of nothingness. She felt the water creep out of her eyes, cascading down on her cheeks as she started to run away.

I wondered why she ran away and I didn't want to fail in proving she was real, not an imaginary friend. All of a sudden, everything became strange. She became a stranger to me. What happened? Was she real?

The sun was soon fading, creating new shadows and dark patches around me. The wind wailed between distorted trunks, carrying the sickly stink of wood rot. I moved faster, ignoring the briars that caught at my jeans, the damp leaves that grimed my skin, and the croaking sounds that got louder.

+ + +

As Martin went near their place, he looked away from the darkness and saw a shadow emerge from his rear, a shadow so slender, familiar, and flawless; as if the the heaven, using a faultless sand, molded her the silhouette of one exempt from flaws of humanities.

He quickly turned his head and there she stood, light emanating behind her, as an angel who had just descended from the realm of divine. She was in her blue dress, accentuating her pale skin tone and freckles, wearing the same tiara and necklace she wore the day he met her.

She slowly moved her way towards him, seeing the tears bursting. He told her to calm down as he wrapped his arms around her.

Moments later, he was able to see her face more clearly. It was calm, more composed this time. She had that majestic and beautiful type of calmness, as if she, accepting their fate, now only lived to cherish their final moments.

+ + +

Allie

"I wanted to see you one last time. I wanted to show you my world and feel it with you, so that I can live in the course of this life seeing you in everything that I hold dearly."

My one last wish was granted.

The time had finally come. I shouldn't have been friends with him.

However, I laid my eyes on you the moment I realized you saw me. All of a sudden, you became my best friend. I craved for our solitary moments, where you opened up your world to me. At the same time, I felt dread knowing my secrets will soon unveil once he got to know me more.

"Martin, why don't we make a promise that we’ll be friends for life?" I suggested.

"Sure, but how are we going to make a pact?" he asked.

"Well, I have a suggestion. Here." I handed him a brass sword that I had since when I was young as we went to the seaside view of the park.

"And what are we going to do with this?" he asked.

"See that horizon? Tell me what you see."

"Everything."

"These are the things that lie beyond what we can't see, but they will always be there. Step closer and you'll see more of it. You tend to step closer to see more, but you don't have to. It's always there, whatever lies beyond," I said as I looked away and turned to him. I met his gaze.

"Nothing stops here, Martin. Beyond us, infinity meets infinity."

"It's there." He closed his eyes as he nodded.

"To what lies beyond." We cocked our arms back and threw our tiara and sword with all our might, throwing them as far as the direction of the horizon.

"Now whatever happens, they'll always be there. They're with whatever lies beyond eternity."

"Eternity?" The word left his lips with such a sweet taste.

"Eternity," I assured as I closed my eyes and smiled at him.

+ + +

Martin's mom called the cops to help her find her son who ran away after confronting him with his diagnosis. All of a sudden, she knew where to find him: his place.

The rattling wind blew though their hair, directing them over their shoulder. With a turn of her head, she felt the scenery change, as if someone had set a new wallpaper. The park became the woods as the sky became darker and roaming insects of various sizes and colours flaunted through the land of green, the embedded and untouched trail running down the center of the alluring woods.

+ + +

Martin

We went back to our place.

It was a peaceful night, a silent one. We had found in this little bubble a safe haven, away from everything, an escape from reality; a perfect place to admire the beauty of the world.

We leaned on the big tree at the middle of the downward slope of the park. I turned towards her and saw her slowly close her eyes as a grin curled on her lips. I would never know what those eyes saw in those stars, but I knew she saw something majestic in them.

As I stared into the starry sky, I heard my father speak to look out to the stars whenever I missed somebody, felt lonely, or wanted someone in the near future, because stars had the potent power to tell them how much someone loved them.

"Stars - they are powerful. Never ever doubt their power. They will never abandon you, so when it is impossible for you to profess your love, tell them, and they'll speak of your love for you," my father had said.

I closed my eyes for a moment and, once again, stared and marveled at their resplendence. I believed in their power as much as I did before.

"Tell them, and they'll speak of your love for you," his voice echoed in my thoughts once more.

I looked at her. She was still gazing up. I turned to the stars once again - my good friends - and whispered to them all that I wanted to say to her. After I whispered, I opened my eyes to a beautiful sight of glistening stars. I whispered a small prayer, hopeful they won't fail me.

I turned my head slightly. To my surprise, at the corner of my eye, I saw her looking at me.

I grinned. Her turquoise eyes sparkled as they always did even in the daytime when her eyes became green. She allowed my gaze to get into her eyes. For the first time, she opened up her world and let me see who she was.

I leaned closer, not knowing what to do. My heart started to beat faster, no fear now to behold. For a moment, in front of me lay the most beautiful thing I could have. I closed my eyes as I inched closer.

I soon felt her breathe, and my heart stopped. I took a deep breath and slowly moved closer, close enough for the tips of our nose to touch and waited for my forehead to gently touch hers.

A few beats of my heart. I leaned closer and finally, our lips touched. As I paused, I felt her lips press against mine.

After a few seconds, I opened my eyes first. Her eyes were still closed and an enchanted smile formed on her lips. I placed my hand on her cheek. She moved my head slightly towards me as I leaned closer again.

"Martin!" A blinding ray of a flashlight was pointed at us.

+ + +

Certain that he was mistaken, Martin looked to his side once again, but she was gone.

"No... This can't be... Where are you, Allie?"

Beside him were the remains of an unknown kid, with two pictures of Martin and Allie together and a note below saying, "You found me, thank you" and the other saying, "I'll always guard you."

The cops were able to identify the remains. It was the missing girl who had vanished in the downward slope of the park ages ago.

The cops showed Martin a photo of the deceased girl and she resembled Allie.

He now understood what she had meant.

He was thankful for he finally found a purpose to live and interact with people.

+ + +

Febuary 20, 2001 Martin

I stayed away. I tried to get over from the fact she was already gone, from the fact that I wouldn’t see her again. For months and weeks after that, I tried my best to block my thoughts of her, to not think of her in everything that I did and encountered. I tried to think and accept her as one that was unimportant, nonsensical for me to value, an object of nonexistence, a perfect illusion. God knew how I tried to forget her, unlove her. To learn to love again what I once did before I became anew.

And yet there I was again, desperate for any ray of sunshine, any glimpse of true happiness that I could only obtain from seeing her. I loved her, and I could not undo it. As much as I tried, I could not unlearn it. But I didn't learn to love her. She touched me with her pristine heart and I would always be hers. And as much as I wanted to revert back to my old, innocent, and ignorant self, all of the beauty of this world that was ignorant, nevertheless, of all that I missed in the bliss of life, ignorant of the happiness that came whenever she was there, I couldn’t. I needed her. I wanted to be open to sense the reality of the majestic world, to see it through her eyes, to feel her divine soul, to ever feel that perfect bliss I desperately ached for.

+ + +

January 15, 2018 Martin

The sun was shining. I once again visited our place. I wish I could wear shades to obscure my eyes but that would be as good as a blindfold today.

This side of park became open to everyone after the solved mystery of a 12-year-old girl. I saw a mixture of some children walking, young adults, middle-aged and old people, quietly chit-chatting and drinking tea while having a picnic with their loved ones.

It sat there, it did; with its long, creaky, rusted poles, it set a memory in motion. This was our favorite place. She was the only one... The only one I knew who could bring such vividness to a dull place. Now, as the thick wind tussled with the chains of the swing and the trees as some of its leaves fell and followed the various directions of the opaque breeze, I started to think that maybe her spirit still lingered here. Maybe - just maybe - in the afterlife, she'd still love to hop on a swing.

This time, I was the one who sat here, hoping to see or, at least, feel her once again. I held her necklace.

And so she did by blowing the wind that touched my skin, and I saw my 12-year-old self playing and dancing with her beneath a starry night. As I saw my naïve self with her, I sat at the swing and laid the sunflowers and Ecuadorian roses I bought on the ground, near our place where the stars professed my love to her.

#short story #nakpil #ssaseniorhigh

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toriceratops · 8 years ago

Text

The fate of an entire galaxy is a heavy burden. Two is unbearable. Sometimes you need someone to help hold you together.

A brief moment between Ryder and Vetra, set after Sara Ryder unlocks the last of her father’s memories. Cut for major plot spoilers. F!Ryder/Vetra. About 1,900 words. I had a lot of emotions after this point and literally had to stop playing the game for the night to figure out how Sara would sort through them.

Sara ran.

She ran from her Hyperion quarters and to the cryo bay with her heart in her throat and tears welling in her eyes. They stung, but she kept moving. She ran to Scot, to her mother, to her past and future all mixing up into one. But more than anything, she ran away. Her mother was alive, and the rest…

Well the rest would have to wait.

But now she’s not running. Now, she’s alone in her room on the Tempest. Tears threaten her again but she inhales deeply and wills them away, begging the tightness in her chest to release. Now, the silence is overwhelming and the wondrous expanse of space stretches out in every direction she can see. Once, centuries and more lifetimes ago than she can fathom, people referred to this as the ‘vast nothingness’ of space. But Sara knows better. She’s been there. She’s seen so much. She’s technically lived for over six centuries now and in two galaxies. Space is not nothing, it is everything.

And it is crushing her.

The rail she’s sitting on gets uncomfortable after a span of time she long ago lost track of and Sara slides to the floor, inching ever closer to the edge so that all she can see are stars. Beyond all the tiny, flickering dots of raw power, her home…

“Sara?” Vetra’s voice floats through her senses, normally a caress that soothes Sara in an instant, this time in snags on something inside, silk caught on coarse dried out skin. Sara hadn’t even noticed the door sliding open. There’s a familiar tremor in her girlfriend’s subharmonics, a tone she’s only heard once, down in an abandoned mine what feels like ages ago.

Without turning to greet her, Sara tries to speak but feels the clench of a sob coming and only manages a weak grunt in response.

The clack of Vetra’s boots on the cold metal floor are slow but sure. Other, softer noises penetrate the silence followed by a heavy thud and when she comes to take her pace next to Sara, her hard, uninviting chest armor is gone. Any other day, any other time, Sara would lean in and curl into the perfect, warm curve of Vetra’s body, the smooth fabric of her under armor a slight tickle on her neck. And she would smile, relax, and just breathe.

Today, she stares at the vast nothingness of space.

“Avitus called me.” Vetra says as if nothing is out of the ordinary. Sara loves her just a little bit more. “Said you missed the pathfinder’s meeting. They didn’t really get anything done, since it was your meeting and all. Asked me to check on you. Said you weren’t answering your coms or emails. For some reason he thinks I have an inside line.” She pauses to look over and actually turns off her visor. “Don’t know where he got that idea.” There’s a hesitant smile on her face, and her eyes have that light in it that only seems to show up when she’s looking at Sara.

Sara pulls her knees up to her chest, and looks away. The tightness in her lungs is spreading through her arms and legs until her hands are even starting to clench uncontrollably.

“Sara..” the tremor of fear and worry comes back stronger than before, even though the tone of her actual words is an attempt at levity. She runs a gentle hand through Sara’s short hair and the first, real cracks in her resolve to keep it all in start to splinter. “Sara is this the inevitable breakdown we joked about shortly after we first got on this ship?” Vetra’s voice lowers, matching the seriousness of her subharmonics. “Because if it is I can get Lexi. I’ll stay with you the whole time but…”

“No!” Sara jerks her head up, a single defiant tear escaping. “No.” She says quieter this time. “I’m not.. not like that anyway it’s just...”

And for once, Sara can’t find the words. She’s always so quick to have a response, knows exactly what she’s going to say, how she’s going to handle something, even if it doesn’t alway turn out to be the best. But now she’s lost.

Vetra’s arm slips around Sara’s shoulder. The weight of it, of her, of her love… it’s almost too much.

Another tear escapes and with it a soft, defeated sigh. “Vee…” She turns to finally look up at her, “I know we’ve talked about home before but, have you ever had those thoughts, the maybe one day or what are they up to that just kind of, stick around?”

“What is this about, Sara?”

“I can’t…” Sara turns away again. She can’t tell anyone. She didn’t even tell Scot. But it’s so heavy, and it hurts so much. Thoughts of home have always flickered in and out, flashes of day dreams here or there and not ever given a second thought. Energy spent on things she already knew she couldn’t find answers to or achieve was a waste of time. Besides, this galaxy was her home now. And more importantly, Vetra was her new home.

It’s just that she’d never had such solid evidence of the futility of every fleeting wish before.

“Whatever it is you can trust me. I love you, and I’m here to give you whatever you need.”

Their eyes meet one more time and suddenly it really is all too much.

In a burst of energy she didn’t know she had left, Sara tells her everything.

She tells her about her father’s memories, about her mother dying and having to relive those moments so vividly she wanted to scream. Then about her father, and his fixation on a cure, on SAM. Without even a breath she moves on, to the benefactor and the mystery she still has to solve about Jien’s death, to the fact that her mother is fucking alive and in Andromeda with them. Vetra’s mandibles flare in shock when Sara says this, but isn’t given a chance to respond, because then Sara’s tears break and start to flow freely.

Reapers. Shepherd. War.

“...it’s gone, Vee. Vetra, it’s all gone. Even if we could go home there’s nothing to go home to. And the worst part is is that it didn’t happen in some distant future from what we left. It happened to our friends. To our families… and I can’t tell anyone. I… I haven’t even told Scot.” Sara’s chest is convulsing with the strength of her tears and she can’t stop it, not now that the damn has broken.

Vetra takes a deep breath, pulls Sara to her in a tight and possessive embrace, and lets her be broken.

By the time Sara can take a breath without a hitch in her chest she’s sitting in Vetra’s lap, curled against her chest and letting the quick flutter of her lover’s heart beating soothe her mind. There’s something else mixed in the sound, harmonizing, soft and subtle, and when Sara shifts it disappears.

“Thank you for telling me.” Vetra is weary, but soothing. “Thank you for trusting me.” She kisses Sara’s temple, a light, but lingering pressure.

“I don’t know what to do, Vee.” Sara lays her head back down against Vetra’s chest, this time sneaking her arms around to hold on too.

They are silent for a while, Vetra’s mandible’s shifting in the way they always do when she’s lost in thought. It’s a soft brush against the top of Sara’s head and she steals a moment for a private, sad smile at the familiar sensation.

“Months ago, I think it was just after we realized the outpost on Eos was going to really be okay and you gave some cheesy speech on the Nexus, I remember Liam making a comment. He said, ‘I think the Pathfinder’s middle name is Hope.” Sara looks up at this, curious to where Vetra is going with it but doesn’t interrupt. “I thought he was serious. Didn’t know it was an Earth joke until I caught a glimpse of your tags and asked him. But after a while, even if he was joking at the time, I realized he was kind of right. You bring hope with everything you do to make things better, sure. But you also lie, manipulate, and stretch truths so that everyone around you will continue to have hope as well. Not only that, but you do the dirty work that brings it, you have done things that give you nightmares - and don’t think for a second I don’t know exactly what each one is about - all for the sake of giving our people, all of our people, the best, safest place to live. You make sure they don’t have to fear for their present, and can focus on a better future.”

Sara nods slowly. She has done all that and more. “That’s my job.” She protests, however weakly.

“No. That’s who you are. But that’s beside the point. My point is is that you do all this and are almost single handedly holding up the hopes and dreams of an entire galaxy…”

“Thanks for the reminder.” Sara tries to bite out with sarcasm but it comes out weak and almost sad.

“Another entire galaxy is a bit much to ask of even you. No matter how amazing you are. So…” Vetra smiles and presses more assuring kisses into Sara’s hair. “That’s where I come in.” Vetra cradles Sara’s head, holding her gently and keeping her eyes locked on Sara’s. Her fingers are making slow and pleasing shapes against Sara’s scalp. “From what you’ve said - the warnings, the messages, the alerts - it does all look very bleak. But they were fighting, Sara. They hadn’t lost yet. You haven’t given up on this galaxy yet, don’t give up on them either.”

“I don’t know…”

“Have faith, Sara.” She interrupts with a hint of severity. “That someone out there was fighting for them just as hard and relentlessly as you are fighting for us.”

Sara’s body starts to shake again, just the slightest tremor. Eventually, she nods, giving in and letting go. She closes the gap between them and gives Vetra a fierce kiss as the tears begin once more. When she stops and takes a breath, she lingers, leaning in so their foreheads rest against each other and continues to cry.

These tears are softer, quieter than the chaos that came before. They are the ones that come after the storm, when you can still vividly remember the pain, but can start to finally look at what’s left to rebuild.

She doesn’t know if it’s just knowing that she doesn’t have to carry this alone, or that somehow, when they’re both ready to face this and actually talk about it, she knows they will face this unknown together, but Sara already feels immeasurably better. She’s not good, she’s not going to be good for a while.

But Vetra is here. And Vetra has already proved time and time again the she will hold her up when she can’t do it herself. That she’ll be there, that they’re in this together.

Vetra is at her side, holding her close, and Sara is not okay, but she has hope.

#tori writes things #my stuff #mass effect #andromeda #me:a #ryder/vetra #sara ryder #Sara is SO so young #she is strong #and she holds up well #but some things hit you in unexpected ways

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henry33tan · 5 years ago

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Teaching approaches: Seymour Bernstein, Marianna Prjevalskaya and Karen Magruder

With gratitude to our mentors who light a path of learning with love, inspiration, knowledge, commitment and enduring patience.

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SEYMOUR BERNSTEIN http://seymourbernstein.com/

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My intent in teaching is to make the pupil better than they are by leading them through musical and technical obstacles and helping them find solutions right there at the lesson. From the very beginning I know that progress will be painfully slow if the pupil can’t read with some degree of fluency. So I assign sight-reading exercises as a primary function of each lesson. For starters, they are forbidden to look at the keyboard. The object is to find any interval or register without looking, the way string players find every position on their instruments while looking the other way. Many of my pupils who could not read fluently, eventually make amazing progress.

Playing with expression is priority number 1. All scales, arpeggios and exercises must be programmed musically with specific dynamics. If pupils disregard interpretive marks in their scores, I am tough and loving at lessons. I tell pupils “A wrong dynamic is like playing a wrong note.” I impress upon each pupil, gifted or not, that the only way they can communicate a musical feeling is by making a physical connection to the feeling. In a sense, feeling must be programmed into the entire body—into every muscle, and every gesture. Of course this happens in stages over a long period of time.

Since each pupil is different, the approach must be flexible. For example, pupils who play perfect scales may not be able to play a slow theme with any sense of conviction. So why practice scales all day? I prescribe slow movements of Sonatas and slow pieces in addition to virtuosic pieces, which they do easily. Musical pupils who fumble on every technical passage must make physicality their prime focus. With such a pupil, I often take their arms and hands and manipulate them in order to give them the proper sensation.

Such pupils practice lots of scales and various technical methods, such as Czerny. For pupils, specifically adults, who have little time to practice, I always assign one technically demanding piece in their repertoire. It is forbidden for pupils to tell me “I’ll work it out at home.” All problems are recognized, analyzed, and worked on right there at the lesson until the pupil achieves the task at hand.

In short, lesson time is supervising practicing with my pupils. They recognize the process and then are able to practice productively at home. All lessons are recorded so that pupils can recall vital information during the interim between lessons. In all cases, being able to do something that they hitherto found impossible ignites a joy within pupils that transfers to their very lives. In return, my joy is double to theirs.

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MARIANNA PRJEVALSKAYA http://www.prjevalskaya.com

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Throughout my career I’ve worked with students of diverse ages and abilities and have seen them at different stages of their lives and educational trajectories.

My pedagogical method is first of all to approach students as individuals, developing a flexibility of teaching strategy based on a pupil’s needs and interests. As a piano teacher, I try to recognize what areas require particular attention and development, and in accordance, I assign appropriate repertoire that addresses these needs.

I also keep students’ preferences in mind, trying to find pieces that they will truly enjoy working on. However, this does not mean that I’ll let them play only works by Chopin, or those from the Romantic period just because they feel a stronger connection to this type of music. From my perspective, stylistically diverse repertoire enriches the soul, expands knowledge, and contributes to a musician’s growth.

I also believe that knowledge of music history and theory is indispensable to a full appreciation of a composition’s meaning. Therefore, my pedagogical intent is to build a solid foundation that nurtures a convincing interpretation based on harmonic, structural, and stylistic understanding.

To this end, we often analyze music during our lessons. Students need to be receptive to harmonic changes; feeling colors; appreciating the many details of articulation, phrasing, so they will have full access to the emotional content of a musical composition and be able to play it expressively. If these ingredients are fully integrated, students will feel inspired and they will enjoy pieces that initially were not interesting to them.

In this particular cosmos, I’ve noticed that picking the right repertoire for my students has become as tricky as making my own repertoire choices, especially if preparation for various competitions is involved. Regardless, a good teacher has the responsibility to choose repertoire wisely, to draw on students’ strengths and to consider what will ultimately realize their full artistic potential.

Technique

I do believe that scales and different types of arpeggios are an indispensable foundation. To this effect, I require students to play scales in all keys in contrary motion, at a distance of a third, sixth, tenth, along with twelve arpeggios from the same note, broken octaves, etc.

In addition, I assign etudes by Czerny, Moszkowski and Clementi that provide a good start before moving on to Chopin, Liszt, Scriabin and Rachmaninov.

While working on technique and repertoire are always valuable, one has to remember that a healthy body is equally important in our profession. Therefore, I spend adequate time talking about how to use our body efficiently– sharing some stretching exercises that I practice on a daily basis. In this endeavor, I want my students’ muscles to be as healthy as mine.

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KAREN MAGRUDER http://www.beginningpianostudios.com

I believe in approaching most technical difficulties by rote long before we hit them in the music. When we find it in the music and it is easy to play because they already know how to finger it, I point that out and say aren’t you glad you already know …. We start out with simple versions and go to the not so simple. When they are advanced and have many technical things that they know, we rotate through them weekly so they do not forget. The technic supports the repertoire.

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Thank you to our three contributors to this blog! I welcome an array of thoughts, comments about piano teaching, philosophies, and methods.

from Arioso7's Blog (Shirley Kirsten) https://arioso7.wordpress.com/2019/08/13/teaching-approaches-seymour-bernstein-marianna-prjevalskaya-and-karen-magruder/

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