#you could translate that as an entry way or an entrance hall

[nordic-language-love]

english has a perfectly good word for shinkansen (bullet train) and yet no english speakers here seem to use it they literally all just say shinkansen

[worldcakecakecake]

On Deutschland and Italia, by Lovino Valenti

Lovino writes a series of blog entries on the relationship between Germany and Italy as he deals with a move to Hamburg, his brother’s wedding, and his budding romance (which he denies) to the infuriating Gilbert Beilschmidt.

                                                               Chapter 7

It was almost midnight and yet Lovino remained awake, sitting by his balcony, reading a novel, indulging himself in some wine, smiling and being at peace…even when a certain loudmouth and insane albino was kept well in his mind.

 He read how the charmer of the tale romanced his beloved with a ridiculous song he whaled for the whole street to hear, embarrassing himself but making the lover laugh in just the high volume that made them present in their setting.

 Lovino chuckled, being reminded himself of the song Gilbert shouted high in the car on their way back. Feliciano joined along, a sudden band ready to play in the concert hall they passed by that moment. It wasn’t until the last song that Lovino dared join, with a thunder of wonderful voice that momentarily made Gilbert and Feliciano fall in awed silence. They returned to finish, making their band complete, laughing and clapping when they had arrived to the restaurant, Augusto heading out with a guitar and Aldrich with a microphone, thinking they still had time to be a part of it.

 Lovino smiled, deciding a halt to his reading, enjoying in the sweet memory and how handsome Gilbert looked, how much he wanted to continue a song and dance about in the restaurant as they had done before.

 It was interrupted by a call, his brother, having him questioning, with it being so late.

 “Pronto,” he answered wanting to get quick into it.

 “Be…Lovi…are you doing anything tomorrow?”

 “Just the office in the morning. What’s going on?” He suspected.

 “Is it all right if you can go to my flower arrangements appointment tomorrow? It’s in the evening so I’m sure you can go. Me and Ludwig have to go…somewhere.” Feliciano gazed over to his fiancé, speaking about in the phone with one of his superiors, pacing and making some accords. Before him on the counter were still lots of papers he needed to read over, sign, get copied, send and some needed translation into Spanish.

 “You two have your own apartments. If you want to do it, just do it. No need to leave to some godforsaken place. You’ll have enough of that in your honeymoon.”

 “It’s not for that!” Feliciano was insulted Lovino would insinuate it. “It’s just something to do with his job and my volunteering. Trust me, I wouldn’t push the appointment aside just to…”

 “Fuck?”

 “Yes. Besides, right now Ludwig is scheduling intercourse for the afternoon after he comes back from work,” Feliciano reported proudly while Lovino wanted to hurl.

 “Too much information and who the hell plans these things? You just do it and that’s it.”

 “We’ve been really busy. Oh, and, is it okay if Gilbert goes with you?”

 The name brought pink and airs that smelled like the sweetest perfume to Lovino.

 “Why-why…why would he have to come?” He really tried to sound annoyed, but Feliciano could tell that there wasn’t the usual harsh cut.

 “Ludwig suggested, thought it could help.”

 Lovino rolled his eyes and faked an annoyed sigh, “fine, I’ll go. Send me whatever I’ll need and I’ll get you some damn flowers. Don’t complain if they are not the exact ones you want.”

 “I know you’ll make a good decision, Lovi. Now, ciao, ti voglio bene!”

 The call was gone and Lovino was left with excitement.

  On Deutschland and Italia.

Art and Inspiration.

I’m taking a part.

 I believe that it’s through art that we show the faces of our country. It speaks more so than any political statement. The European union actually makes it easy to create this movement with different kinds of artists, encouraging connection and understanding. Cities like Berlin are a traditional destination for fashion and architecture from Italy, as well as a point of reference for promotions and managing the most modern museums. Germany is constantly being inspired by Italy. In food, lifestyle, and of course art. Most galleries are filled with proud Italian artists that Germans are awed to see. It presents communication and improves the country’s image more so.

 It is definitely not recent, as this inspiration traces back to the renaissance, when you had Germans coming down to the peninsula hoping to see and admire these paintings that were so talked about. Printing is invented through this, as Germans were trying to find ways to showcase what they saw in Italy to their own kingdoms. They followed their example in their art techniques, not as memorable, but enough to be proud of and make Italians themselves wonder.

 In music, Germans took their most sublime pieces and gave it Italian names, using our created instruments to make memorable melodies to join our own composers.

 Their writers wrote on Italy’s beauty, through constant travel tales or stories of their imagine to explain their experiences. Many of these phrases we quote, and it fill us with pride, and we are happy to read them.

 It works to get us curious, to travel to Germany as well and be inspired by colorful villages, hills of story and cities of feast.

 It is a trade I am happy to share in with these very entries.

  He wore a fine buttoned shirt, a pristine yellow he assured well that morning to be exceptionally clean. Tight jeans, his best shoes, with movement and stride that he wanted people to think of only king’s. Lovino tested it on his office that morning and the gazes he got proved to him that it would be enough.

 He left precisely and was smiling as he took the transport to the flower shop. He spotted Gilbert’s car at the entrance and so smirked, sunglassed eyes making entrance, the ring turning Gilbert, who had been leaning by one of the counters, turning to get baffled, wide eyed and luckily his hanging mouth could be covered by the fact that he kept a hand over it. Lovino removed his sunglasses, showcasing hazel that fitted well with the greens and colors that surrounded the shop.

 To Gilbert, it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

 ��Hey! Why so fancy today?” He tried to act like it didn’t evoke any blush, hiding it by facing the cashier, hoping whoever attended this to come that instant.

 “Just uh…an important meeting in the company,” Lovino excused, coming to take seating right in the stool next to Gilbert.

 He really tried to resist, but the corner of his eyes still went down the figure hungrily, especially loving how those jeans hugged those thighs. Much to his embarrassment, Lovino had caught it.

 “What is it?” He didn’t sound annoyed and Gilbert wasn’t landed a hit on the head, in fact, there was temptation in that voice, accepting more of that gaze.

 “Oh, sorry, I didn’t hear the bell ring.” In came a young man, wiping dirt off his hands and laying before them, taking a notebook where surely appointments were written.

 “Beilschmidt-Valenti?”

 “Yes,” both answered.

 “Oh, you both came. Rarely do I get the couple coming together to pick flowers.”

 Both blushed heavily.

 “Oh, wait, no!”

 “We’re not the couple!”

 “Not…Beilschmidt-Valenti?”

 “Well, yeah, we are, just-”

 “Not Ludwig and Feliciano. Were Gilbert and Lovino, their brothers. They couldn’t make it today and so they sent us to deal with the flower arrangements.”

 “Oh, right! My colleague just put a note. Didn’t see it earlier.” He shut the notebook and went to proper introductions. “I’m Toris Laurinaitis and your brothers have chosen me for the flowers. Feliciano already sent me some information concerning the venue, the cake and the theme he wants. I already have some ideas and would like to show some displays we have up.” He stood and led way, the brothers following behind.

 They spent a good half an hour watching all the suggestions, Toris explaining meanings and how things could be set up, as well as trying to sell, making them all a dream beauty that actually made it difficult for Gilbert and Lovino to choose, for their own taste and their brothers.

 “These are beautiful greens, but I don’t think they will fit with what my brother wants.”

 “I agree, but it’s one our of pride works and we love showing it to all our customers.”

 “I do like how you pile them up,” Gilbert admitted, all coming together like one big tree, surrounded beautifully by ornaments.

 “I love this one with the marigolds.”

 “Marigolds? For Ludwig and Feliciano? Definitely not.”

 “Being honest, I think the best option will be…this one,” Gilbert pointed to the vined one with white roses, arched, extended, simple, and despite that green…it would actually flow well with the wedding.

 “Gilbert…I actually agree with you,” Lovino smiled to him.

 Toris joined as well, “I also believe it will be the best option.”

 They settled some minutes of gazing, assuring, decided.

 “We’ll take this one,” Lovino worded.

 “Very well then, I’ll schedule the delivery and date.” He left to surely implement this on a schedule, Lovino holding the card Feliciano gave him ready to pay.

 “You know…the one with the lilies, candles and gold stands would have been more expensive,” Gilbert smirked.

 “And it was stunning, but I know both of them would have found it too excessive. Besides, it was with red roses that Ludwig had confessed to my brother, so roses had to be a must. White for purity.” Gilbert raised an eyebrow. “Purity of the moment. Whatever, I’m glad I could choose it for my brother,” Lovino held himself high, showing well his pride.

 “Wow…we really are trying to make this wedding perfect here.”

 “Hey! Uh…um…uh…” Lovino had no excuse to fill this time, which gave Gilbert a fit of laughter.

 “It’s fine, it’s fine, we’re good…I’m actually glad we’re trying.” Gilbert didn’t know where that impulse came from, how his hand reached a simple red daisy that lay on a table nearby, raising it to lay in the thresholds of Lovino’s curls, sided perfectly, elegant on his face, shinning him the more in lovely colors that drove him closer.

 “Should we…do something to trick Berwald with the flowers?” Gilbert suggested with a chuckle that was endearing, not at all mocking.

 “I…I can’t think of something.”

 “Yeah I uh…I highly doubt they would sell some…poisoned stuff here.”

 It was such a beautiful exchange, Toris coming and not knowing how to interrupt, tapping his foot to the floor awkwardly, until he stepped harshly enough to get their attention. “Sorry to…interrupt, but I have put your brothers on the schedule and now all I need is the payment.”

 “Got it here,” Lovino raised the card, slow in his walk for both to reach the cashier. “I think we’re pretty much done. If you want, you can go ahead.”

 “Are you sure? We could go do something now if you want?”

 “I…” how Lovino would have loved to, but he had to keep some sort of field from letting this extend on. He still had to think, still had to come to terms with what exactly he was feeling and what he wanted with Gilbert. He needed more time. “…I promised to have dinner tonight at Nonno’s and I…have to get going to help.”

 Gilbert only let his disappointment pass low through his eyes, but nodded and understood. “Well…I’ll see you later then…”

 “Yeah…” why did it feel like there was more that they should do? More than that awkward wave and only that intensive look of their eyes.

 Lovino refused to let himself be captive to it, focus on the payment, picking receipts and leaving back home. He kept himself excited at the sea food platter he was sure his grandfather could suddenly prepare. He didn’t notice how Gilbert stared at him still from the comfort of the shop, making sure he was well underground, into the trains and he had the shop for himself once again.

 “Is there…anything else you need?” Toris shyly came forward, wondering still his presence.

 “Yes, can I make an order?”

  It was sudden, but Augusto welcomed his grandson’s visit, indeed having enough fried seafood to keep them chatting and drinking to distraction well into the night. It was midnight when Lovino decided to take his leave, picking his stuff and ready to take the simple stairs up to his own apartment.

 “Oh! Before I forget! Clemente sent me a message that something arrived for you. He hopes you don’t mind he went into your apartment and left it on your table.”

 “Did he tell you what it was?”

 “He was afraid to say.”

 “Must be that new underwear I ordered,” was his farewell.

 One more floor and he was entering his apartment, only a single lamp lighting the large bouquet of tulips. They were bountiful in beauty, in purples, reds, whites and enchanting oranges, in their vase, ordered well and Lovino was paralyzed at the entrance in awe. He wondered if perhaps they were delivered in the wrong apartment, looking about the hall expecting for the real owner to come forward, but the night continued silent and the flowers seemed to keep waiting for him.

 Closing the door behind him he headed closer, noticing a large card, on one side his name written elegantly.

 Yes…they were for him then. But who? He knew of no admirers, he wasn’t dating anybody and lately…the only person on his mind was…he turned the card and noticed the name at the bottom, his heart flourishing and a smile already plastered on his face by the first word at the top.

 ‘Toris here told me that tulips stand for forgiveness, so I thought it be appropriate. I could have asked this in person, and we still can, but it’s a nice gift to truly show and make you understand that I apologize. Not just now, I apologize for everything I’ve done to you ever since we met when you were like…what? Two months old? Whatever just…I’ve realized I was douche, still am and I want things to be different between us from now on. I hope we can be friends. I hope you can give me forgiveness.

 Gilbert.’

 Lovino couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled so largely, he had felt so ecstatic as to even jump across his apartment and scream. He held the letter tight to him, embracing the words and copying them to his heart. He couldn’t wait for a next meeting that would surely be placed by whatever wedding planning Ludwig or Feliciano set. He took his phone, hunting down different chats hoping to find his number, surely once that Feliciano or Nonno had sent it just incase. He remembered scoffing intensely when they did, yet here he was, calling that number, heart about to burst and holding to the card like some desperate teenager.

 “Hallo?” came the questioning answer.

 “It’s…me…”

 “Lovino?”

 “Yeah, just uh…wanted to say, that, I…saw the flowers and they’re…gorgeous and thank you, and I…forgive you.”

 Petrifying silence, the only sound their breaths, their understanding of the words just said.

 “Yes…it’s hard to believe that I would actually forgive you, but…being completely honest, I too was a…jackass. My family was right, I could have avoided a lot of stuff if we could have just actually…talked nicely, found common grounds, had fun, enjoyed. I shouldn’t have been so…stubborn and judging. But…you were right, we were just kids. We didn’t understand anything and we acted on whatever impulse came first.” He breathed, he waited for whatever new words, but instead decided on continuing, “but we are not depending on those impulses anymore. We’re rational, we’re adults and should…understand our feelings more.” Something Lovino wished he could really take to himself. “So…yeah, I’m…sorry and let’s just…be friends, I guess.”

 Silence once again, utter silence.

 “Did you hang up?” Lovino threatened.

 “No, no! I’m here, just…wow, taking all that in.” And finally he heard breathing. So Lovino let him that, settling in laying in their own comforts, until a word could be ready to be said.

 “I…forgive you too. And…yeah, let’s…try this friendship out and actually…make our families proud.” Gilbert was so glad to have made Lovino laugh.

 “Then, that’s great! So…I think we should be heading to sleep now, right?”

 “…yeah.” Gilbert held his extensive words, he wanted to talk, of other things like…holidays, their favorite drinks, sunsets, anecdotes and music, but from all that variety, he remained in his stupefied silence, hoping that maybe Lovino would start.

 “Well, buona notte! Sleep well and I’ll…see you around,” he smiled, one Gilbert could even feel, hoping it was more on his skin.

 “Ja…Gute Nacht…”

 Lovino forced himself to shut the call, turning his glance to the flowers, grin wide, standing, picking and deciding to put them in his room as a good kiss for the morning and before he shut his eyes.

  On Deutschland and Italia.

Exchange Programs.

And what it can lead to.

 Another way to strengthen the relationship between two countries is through academia. What better way to see than through student exchange programs and research institutes.

 The ‘Erasmus’ and ‘Leonardo’ programs are well flourishing in both Germany and Italy, outside of the expecting England, France and Spain. There is in Italy a program literally called ‘University center for the documentation and study of the juridical relationship between Italy and Germany’ which’s job, as the title very obviously suggest, is to establish a relationship of professionals, writings and course students. My own brother was a part of this, which ended in an exchange of cultures, of learning, expanding, settling, even landing him a future husband.

 I did not hear the end of it when he visited me in Naples.

 It’s a youth that is being exposed to our dealings, our works, our being and culture, sharing and enlightening it to become better known, better recognized and for more artistic and intellectual inspirations to come.

  ‘I wish that it could be like that…why can’t it be like that…’ The music only helped to keep Lovino lost, with scenarios in his head, ideas that he shouldn’t be feeding, but what a fantasy he was living.

 “No,” Feliciano decided, scratching it off of the list, stopping the song, looking through his library to hear the next.

 “Wha-what-what? Why-why, why not?” Lovino startled himself from his stupefaction, worried and actually looking slightly…broken.

 Feliciano questioned and grew hesitant to play the next one, afraid he would only make his brother feel worse. “Well, the song is too sad and I think it will just make those without a couple or date more miserable, plus it’s not something Ludwig and I could relate to. Thankfully, our love was never forbidden.”

 The next song that played was a French-Italian song, one Feliciano himself really liked, but decided well against it knowing Ludwig’s distaste for French.

 “Well, we’re you lucky.”

 “One day you’ll be lucky too, Lovino!” Feliciano kept up.

 “Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever, I don’t need that sappy shit.”

 “Really?”

 “Yeah, I’m fine, there’s no one-”

 “Not even Gilbert.”

 Lovino held himself completely.

 “He’s…he’s…we’re not talking about this! I’m just here to help you with the damn music. You scratched off that breaking up song, right?”

 “But it’s so catchy!”

 “Hell no! Add some Adele!” He began writing a lot of her songs down in a list, leaving the table in silence.

 “You know…with Gilbert it wouldn’t be forbidden.”

 “Feliciano!” He slammed the pen to the table.

 “I’m just trying to help and make you realize.”

 “Don’t help! All right? It should be enough to you that we’re actually friends now.”

 “But you both want more!”

 “You don’t know that! I don’t know that! I…don’t know what I should do next.” He let himself those thoughts of wondering, of imagining, of acting.

 Feliciano smirked, leaning with a teasing gleam in his eyes, “…you could…tell him exactly how you feel…”

 “Hell no!” Lovino put one of the notebooks against Feliciano’s face.

 “Oh, Lovino…imagine how free you would feel, the happiness you could be in, the wonder, the romance of adventures!” Feliciano wowed, leaning well against the table with the notebook, to the point Lovino thought he would soon break it.

 “Feliciano, were two dumbasses living in Hamburg. There’s no fantasy in that.”

 “But you could make it! You could be together!”

 “Look! I admire your effort here, but really, leave it be, it will take its course and we’ll see what happens.”

 “But you have to let me-”

 “Shhhh!” He commanded harshly, not sparring another words unless it was to deal with this damn music list.

 Feliciano pouted, heavily as they continued their picking. At some point it eased, but whenever it raised again, Lovino would hit him with his pen.

 “I really like that Of Monsters and Men so-” his phone rang loudly, Lovino catching a glimpse, the number from the Dominican Republic. He suspected enough that it had to be from the volunteering Feliciano meant to do there.

 “Scusi, I have to take this.” He stood and was adamant on keeping this conversation out of the apartment, Lovino hearing the echo of voice go upwards, to the top most attic, running away from any prying ears.

 Why was it so important he kept so far? It was a volunteering project. What did Feliciano have to hide about that? Never mind, he kept adding songs by himself, this time Italian rap songs in the purpose of annoying the German attendants, smirking and already laughing at what their expressions would be. He was finishing an entire page by the time Feliciano returned, a deep smile, ecstatic, jumping and holding to his phone in such a grasp Lovino thought he was ready to throw it.

 “Dio, what happened?”

 “Oh, Lovino, they just gave me-” he sat, he began and then he stopped, mouth wide open, looking about, realizing what he had almost done. He changed his glance to the new list his brother made. “Lovino, I really don’t think we should add Caparezza, I mean, Fedez is okay maybe, but-”

 “Hey! Hey! Hey! Don’t change the subject! What happened? Tell me!” He demanded, ready to hear.

 Feliciano pushed his lips in, still with his eyes away, clearly in hiding.

 “Really? Can’t say anything?”

 “It’s…a surprise,” Feliciano hoped could work.

 Lovino rolled his eyes, sighing, tapping his pen to the table. “Fine, keep your stupid surprise and I’ll take all the Caparezza songs out, but I’m adding more Fedez!”

 Feliciano smiled at his achievement on focusing the topic away, oh but Lovino kept it his mind. He will find out soon enough.

  The apartment was in the calm Ludwig sometimes needed by himself. A simple read, a cup of coffee��luckily Feliciano came in his loud presence just as he was beginning to miss him. Footsteps rushed up in a way Ludwig could tell was him even before he burst into the room, laughing, jumping into his arms, showering in kisses and his tight hold warmth that Ludwig let himself lean to, keeping him well on his lap.

 “Are there any special occasions or is this just your usual?” He smirked.

 “They gave me the job!” He shouted, his smile going along with its high volume.

 “The-the the job?”

 “The hospital in Santo Domingo! They were actually in need of a nursing director. I had a lot of the qualifications and experiences and they decided to take me! I’ll be getting paid normally with all the benefits!”

 Ludwig glowed, even moving back trying to take the largeness of the wonderful news. “That’s…that’s amazing, Feliciano! Congratulations!” He brought his arms around his waist and settled on his chest as he rocked them on the sofa with the static of the excitement.

 “Yes! It will be wonderful! You will have nothing to worry about! You can focus on starting the company and I’ll provide for us! I’ll buy the food, pay the bills, make you comfortable and make us happy.” It was a dream, now a reality so close. “I was with Lovi when they called and almost told him, but I think it’s best we leave it a surprise,” he smiled grandiose…but Ludwig soured, dropping down, new agitations instead. “What’s wrong?” Feliciano wondered, dropping down with him, settling on laying on his chest.

 “My family will think me a leech.”

 “No!” Feliciano pouted with an adorable grimace. “You are not! I am just helping you out while you deal with starting a big business, as well as I’ll be advancing in my own career. We’ll be like kings one day!” Feliciano excited high, hands in the air and everything.

 “My family will not understand it this way. They expect me to arrive to Santo Domingo already living in a castle and…providing for you.” But it seemed like the opposite was to happen, saddened, dropped and oh how it made Feliciano just as gloomed, but leaned more into him, taking his face, looking into his eyes, wanting to give him all the sureness of the world.

 “Don’t let what they think decide how we live. When the time comes, we will sit down and explain everything and I’m sure they will understand.” He was positive. “For now it will do and it will make us happy. I want to be given the chance to provide for you as well…it’s more than what my family expected,” he chuckled.

 “They’ll probably think I’m leeching off you too.”

 “No! We will make them understand, I’m sure of it. If you want, maybe we can plan a day to sit down and talk to them. All before the wedding. We’ll show everything and they’ll be okay.”

 Ludwig sighed, a bit more shine to bring his arms back around his fiancé, strengthening and loving. “All right, but until then, we can’t let anybody know.”

 “Got it, amore mio!” He saluted, in a charm that had Ludwig grinning, bringing him down to a deepened kiss that will soon lead to the riding of clothes.

< previous chapter                                                                                                   next chapter >

[witharsenicsauce]

Chosen Stories From the War #27: The House That Death Forgot, Part 3

(Content warning: this chapter contains descriptions of blood/gore, death, and mentions of suicide)

The night never seemed to come. It was like the sun hung over the hills in a perpetual state of anxiety, never settling, never closing it’s glaring eye. The Chosen and their human compatriots sat in the office, a feeling of morose trepidation overtaking them: time passed, on and on, and yet seemed to sit so very still.

Zhang was flipping through the books on the shelves and the papers on the desk, on a hunt for something, perhaps something to tell him there was a way out of this nightmare. Malinalli was, once again, tending to Kon-Mai’s injured leg, despite the Shrinemaiden insisting it was unnecessary. It seemed her brothers were meditating, and even though the Darkstrider had never been one to proactive his psionics before, this time he had joined his brother, perhaps in the hope that it would get them an answer. Any answer.

Kon-Mai looked up at Zhang as he angrily closed the book he held, tossing it on the desk. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sat beside her, hesitating a bit to calm himself enough to hold a conversation “...How is your leg?” He finally asked.

“I feel no pain from it.” She assured him. “Though our medic insists I do not walk on it, anyhow.”

“Just because it doesn’t hurt doesn’t mean you aren't damaging it!” Malinalli snapped. She had  been irritable since returning from her conversation with Ya’uq, and everyone had been keeping to her instructions to avoid incurring the wrath of this 5’5 force of nature.

“I know.” Kon-Mai looked Zhang up and down, leaning closer to whisper. “That girl...”

Zhang sighed, absently thumbing through the pages of the old book in his hand. “That girl?”

“The one who attacked my brother and I.” She said. “You knew her before?”

Zhang had retold them the story he had told Annette and Bryni, his eyes sorrowful as he did. There had not been much to say at the time, but they had all been left with questions they did not know how to ask. “Yes.” He sighed. “The year was 1959. We kept the children with us through December, and returned her and her siblings at the beginning of 1960. What a way to start the decade.”

Something else was weighing on Kon-Mai’s mind though. “...Then you are incredibly old, Colonel Zhang.”

He looked up at her with an almost blank expression. “...And?”

“And yet you fight like a man in his prime.” She shifted so her good leg was under her like a cushion. “Impressive for someone who is at least…” She did the math in her head. “At least 97.”

“99.” He grumbled. “...I am very old, I know.”

“How?” She asked.

“The Grace of the Elder’s Gifts.” He turned to look at her. “You hardly age either, Kon-Mai: they had to test that process somewhere.”

Kon-Mai didn’t know what to say to that, but thankfully, she didn’t need to think long. Annette stood up, a book in hand. “Chilong, you can read Tagalog, you said?”

“I speak better than I read.” He got to his feet. “But I can read it alright.”

She handed the book to him; a spiral bound notebook with a blue butterfly pattern on the front. “The dates are labeled between the years of 1960-62.”

“Frilly notebook.” Gur-Rai opened his eyes and got to his feet. “I don’t want to needlessly gender, but do you think-”

“It could be Bulan’s?” Annette nodded. “If Chilong can translate, we’ll find that out.”

Zhang looked away, and Kon-Mai could see there were tears in his eyes. “I don’t know if I can.” He said, and they knew that it had nothing to do with the language.

“Colonel, I know ya feel bad.” Bryni said. “But if that girl’s as old as ya say, maybe she knew what was happenin’. People don’t just stay young n’ pretty forever for no reason.”

“We still need to get out of here.” Gur-Rai said. “It sucks that she died, but it’s going to suck a lot more if we all die with her.”

Annette flipped open the first page, and pushed the book toward Zhang, who reluctantly took a seat on the floor and cleared his throat.

.

.

She closed the door to the attic quietly. She had not had to remain so silent in a long time, but now she could feel him, and he could feel her.

Or had it always been so? She had felt reprieve when he was locked away in the cellar. Behind the thick stone walls it was hard for him to invade her mind, but because of that reprieve, she had become sloppy. When Bulan closed her eyes, she was there with him, looking through his purple gaze. She could feel him pressing against her eye sockets, looking through her eyes into her world. Coming. She heard  his thoughts. I am coming. I am here for you.

What do you want?

Not want.

Bulan had tried to imagine death once before, and what consumed his mind felt just like that, so empty and horrifying, nothing and everything, blackness surrounding them.

Death. Death. 

.

.

“January 27th, 1960.” Zhang read aloud. “Father has built another gate around our property. He’s thinking of sealing up the secret entrance, but the cook uses it to bring in deliveries. He still doesn’t know I like to sneak out into the garden at night.”

“Pretty mundane so far.” Annette said. “Like a...normal girl.”

“Mother said the new baby is going to be a girl.” Zhang continued. “I’m already tired from the other little ones, I wish she would practice some restraint. She just told me when I get married, I’ll understand.” He turned the page. “February 3rd, 1960.”

“Kon-Mai’s birthday!” Gur-Rai winked.

Zhang shot him a look. “School rules apply here, no talking while I’m talking.”

Gur-Rai crossed his arms.

“Father’s been in a lot of meeting’s recently. He won’t tell us the subject matter like he used to. It doesn’t make his activities any less illegal if he stops talking about them. It just makes it so we live in darkness. February 14th, 1960. I spent time in the garden with Ali and Isanagi. My brothers have a talent for making flowers grow and Isanagi in particular has palms that are very green.”

“Palms that are green?” Malinalli chimed in.

“I believe you’d know it as having a green thumb.” Zhang clarified, and then kept on reading. “March-”

“Why don’t you just skip until you find something interesting?” Gur-Rai cut in once again.

Zhang glared at him. “This is interesting to me.”

“Yes, but does it help us?” Even so, he leaned his elbow on his knee as though to get comfortable.

Zhang ignored him, but even so he flipped though a good amount of pages. “March 2nd, 1962. There have been amazing meteor showers all this month. Mother said we aren’t allowed to stay up late, but last night I snuck the little ones outside to watch it. I am glad I did so, because last night was particularly beautiful, and the meteors that fell were the size of stars themselves. I even felt one hit the earth. The very ground trembled.”

Kon-Mai scooted closer. “A meteor shower is never so common on Earth.”

“...March 5th, 1962. The gardener saw something...strange. A creature, he said. It must have been a monkey of some kind, because it was as small as a child but walked upright on two legs. Mother thinks it may be an orphan from the nearby city coming to rummage in our scraps. When we told my father, he panicked and locked up the entire house, said no one goes in or out. We tried to tell him he is paranoid but he says he will not risk his family again. We are so privileged he would ignore a starving child? I’m going to go out tonight with some food. There is no doubt I can help.”

Zhang hesitated, and turned the book so the others could see what was written next. The entry was scrawled hastily, as though in a panic.

“Not a child. Not a child. It’s not even human. It’s skin is grey and it’s eyes, it’s eyes...” He trailed off. “That’s where that one ends.”

“A creature the size of a child, with grey skin…” Kon-Mai looked between Annette and Zhang, who were nodding. 

“Sectoids. Or at least, that was what they used to look like.” Annette looked deeply troubled. “But this is from 1962. The invasion happened in 2015.”

“Our invasion happened in 2015.” Gur-Rai clarified. He did not elaborate, but they could all tell what he was implying.

Zhang kept on reading. “March 6th. I told Mother and Father about what I saw, and Father has confined me to my room for the rest of the week. Mother believes what I saw was a mangalo. Father has been on the phone with the company who installed our gates, he thinks it’s someone else who has come to steal us away again. I don’t know what I think it was. I don’t know what I’d rather it be.

March 15th. Mother and Father are fighting more and more often. Mother wants to rehire some of the old security guards but Father refuses, says they’ll sell us out just like last time. He keeps the doors locked and the windows covered. I can hear the creatures outside, skittering in the bushes. Last night I heard tapping on my window as I slept. I didn’t look, I was too scared.”

Kon-Mai sighed. “That poor child.”

“April 8th. Father has taken to staying up all night. He walks the halls like a ghost, shining his flashlight out the windows at the slightest shadow. I can feel a heaviness in the air. The days have been dark. When I looked out the crack in my window, there was something glowing purple outside.

April 23rd. Marikit is ill, she came down with a fever last night. No other symptoms, her nose is not stuffy but she is wheezing. I have noticed I have had slight trouble breathing as well. Father is up day and night; he says there’s a tall man outside, waiting to snatch us away. Mother is pleading with him to let us out, if only just to take the baby to a doctor, but he yells at her: he says the evil men have returned to kill us, and he isn’t going to let that happen.

May 1st. No one has gone in or out in months. The phones don’t work anymore, and Father is insistent that that means they cut the lines. Marikit keeps getting worse and worse, and now Laarni and Ali are sick as well. Mother has locked the door to the bedroom and won’t open it, I can hear her crying day and night. Tonight I looked out the window and I saw him. The tall man.”

“I’m gonna guess the tall man is our wrinkly friend.” Gur-Rai added.

“I reckon.” Bryni nodded in agreement. Her voice was soft and sad.

“...May 7th, 1962. Father took his gun and went to kill the tall man. He said he wouldn't let anyone hurt us ever again. I begged him not to.” Zhang paused, scanning over the journal’s blank lines. “May 8th. I found Father’s shotgun on the front porch. The door was wide open. My head is heavy and my throat is burning. Mother won’t open the door. All the little ones are sick…” He stopped, his face twisting into a look of horror.

“Zhang?” Annette reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “What is it?’

“...May 8th. I’m sorry little ones. I hope we meet again…” He ran his hand along the lines of text. “...May 9th. I put the shotgun in my mouth and pulled the trigger. I felt my skull being ripped apart. I felt myself fading. And then I awoke again.”

There was a collective gasp from the room, and everyone held that shock for just a moment. Zhang continued.

“I tried again, this time pointing at my heart. My chest exploded and I couldn’t breathe, and then I could once again.”

Kon-Mai got to her feet, her face pale. “She has already died once before.”

“I am in Hell.” Zhang’s voice shook as he read. “Damned to live in suffering and agony for all eternity, trapped within this house that death forgot.”

.

.

Maybe they could have helped, Bulan thought.

It was a stupid thought. They were just as trapped as her. Most of them even stank of the same psionic power that Ya’uq smelled of. They reeked of the sulfur and metal that filled her senses when she tried to take her own life. Even if they stood a chance to hurt him, and she knew for a fact they couldn’t, no one could. Except for her. 

She picked up her shotgun and closed her eyes. I know you can hear me.

She speaks. Ya’uq seemed to chuckle, tickling the deep regions of her mind. You speak to me, child.

I sealed you away once before. I can do it again.

No. No more hiding. No more rotting away. Like the moon steals the sun’s light, your life is already mine.

.

.

Silence hung in the air for a moment. Then, Zhang dropped the book and let out a noise, somewhat between a laugh and a cry.

“She can’t die.” He whispered, his head in his hands. “She can’t die.”

“Then she’s still in this house somewhere.” Annette sounded afraid and was already reaching for her pistol.

Zhang stood. “No. No, not again. We have to help her this time, if she has been trapped here since 1962…” He clenched his fists. “Taymallat, I did this to her.”

“Zhang, don’t be ridiculous.” Annette insisted. “You didn’t send the Elder here. You didn’t trap her.”

“No, but I was the reason her father locked them away, why he didn’t hire armed guards that could, maybe, have helped them. Instead he tried to fight what was essentially God with a shotgun.”

“Hey, a shotgun can do wonders on the right god.” Gur-Rai winked. “I should know.”

“Well it wasn’t enough.” Zhang snapped. “She’s all alone in here, I destroyed her life once. I have to save her.”

“And in doing so, perhaps we will save ourselves.” Kon-Mai added. “We must locate the girl. She is the secret to unlocking this cursed place.”

“Yeah.” Gur-Rai jabbed at the door. “But to do that we gotta risk running into old wrinkly out there.”

“Perhaps...” Dhar-Mon finally spoke up, taking a deep breath as he broke his trance. The flecks of purple psionic energy that rained around him spun and disappeared like petals in the wind. “Or perhaps we can call her to us.”

“You think she’ll listen?” Bryni asked.

“It needs to be someone she’d trust.” Annette said. “Chilong, she knows you.”

“She hates me.” He crossed his arms. “No trust there.”

Malinalli folded her arms. “I could give it a shot.” She said. “I have the psionics.”

“You’re not even from the same country.” Annette said. “And I don’t suppose you speak Tagalog?”

Malinalli looked away, seeming to blush in humiliation. There was a collective silence all around.

“I’ll do it.” Bryni finally chirped.

“You? She doesn’t know you at all!”

“Yeah, but I ain’t got no glowy power, and I’m 100% home grown.” She gave them a small, two fingered salute. “Human to human, woman to woman? I betcha I can get her to talk.”

Annette and Zhang exchanged glances, and Kon-Mai nodded. “It is our best option, considering.”

“Righty-ho.” Bryni plopped down beside Dhar-Mon. “What do I do, Big Guy.”

Dhar-Mon rolled his eyes and held out his hands. “Do not do anything. Completely clear your mind, and let me guide you.”

“That won’t be hard.” Bryni giggled and tapped her head. “There ain’t much up there ta begin with.”

.

.

To Bryni, this felt kind of like her first time flying. She had no control over where she went, hurdling over the dips and bobs in the air, incapable of managing the way her body reacted to the sheer excitement. Except her body wasn’t even there, which was pretty good because she would have spewed the remains of her last lunch.

Her vision was a swirl of purple light and deep, cold darkness, a void so encompassing that if she looked too close, it threatened to swallow her. She rode the waves, keeping her mind blank like Dhar-Mon had told her to, until suddenly it felt as though she were being squeezed, like the walls were pressing in around her. She took a gasping breath of air, and suddenly-

She was in another room, at the end of a long, dark hallway. At the other end, she recognized the young woman from before, her long black hair coving the bloodstains on her once white blouse. Her back was to Bryni as she peeked around another corner.

“Um…” Bryni cleared her throat. “Howdy!”

Bulan jumped, pointing her gun at Bryni. She wasn’t sure if a bullet would hurt her in this form, but she put her hands up nonetheless.

“Woah there!” She tried to speak calmly. “Settle down, girl. I ain’t here to hurt ya.”

“Ikaw ang babae.” Bulan said. “Sa pangunahing bulwagan.”

“Um…” Bryni was already running into a problem. “I...don’t speak Tagalog.”

Bulan looked irritated, but instead of firing, she bit the inside of her lip and lowered her gun. She seemed to be thinking.

“You...don’t speak English?”

Bulan knew enough to shake her head to that.

“Psionics can’t do the translating, can they?” Bryni half-heartedly chuckled. “...Guess not.”

Bulan took a step towards her. “...Paano...hay...del español?”

“You know Spanish?” Bryni perked up. “No, wait, not me, my...um...mi amiga!” Bryni said excitedly. “Oh god, I had about a year of this and it was in elementary school.” She waved her hands wildly. “Mi amiga speak español!”

Bulan couldn’t help but giggle at that, especially when Bryni made a talking motion with her hand. “Um...dónde?”

“We’re...uh…” Bryni looked around. “...We’re in an office.”

Bulan shook her head. Even if she knew what Bryni meant, she had no idea which room she was referring to. Bryni tried to chew her thumbnail before remembering she was essentially a projection at the moment. Hmm...

“C’mere.” Bryni gestured for her to come closer. “I wanna show ya.”

Bulan looked hesitant.

“Por favor?”

The girl hesitated, then took a few steps toward Bryni, close enough so that the pilot could reach out and put one finger against Bulan’s forehead.

She imagined herself walking through the halls, from the room they thought Bulan had died in, to the maze off halls. Left, another left, right, through a door…

Bulan pulled away, but when Bryni looked up at her, her face was glowing with a smile. “Ang silid ng pagguhit!” She picked up her shotgun. “Alam ko ang lugar na iyon! Kikitain kita!”

“Hold up!” Bryni called after her as Bulan took off down the hall. “Uh...I’ll see you there?” She looked up as though she were talking to God. “Okay Big Man. Pull me out.”

Same rush, same feeling of bobbing up and down, and suddenly she felt solid again, the floor underneath her and people around her.

Bryni opened her eyes and gave a thumbs up. “Looks like she’s headed our way.”

“Hopefully she isn’t stopped by that demon outside.” Dhar-Mon got to his feet. “What did she say?”

“Nothin’ I could understand.” Bryni shrugged. “But-”

There was a thud, then a rabid banging noise against the door, and the group looked around warily.

“That oughta be her.” Bryni said.

In any case, Gur-Rai and Annette still cocked their guns as Kon-Mai walked over, put one hand against the door, and pulled it open.

.

.

He wondered why even after all these years, he had never managed to free himself of this mortal coil. He had never shed this dying body and finally ascended.

Ya’uq felt his old, old body breaking down around him. Even as his psionics held everything in place, even as he slowed time to an agonizing crawl, he could feel milliseconds slipping through his fingers. Milliseconds of precious consciousness that he could not afford to lose.

Do not go gently into that dark night. He would rage against the dying of the light.

.

.

Bulan Kepa pushed past her and stepped inside, looking around, sneering at Zhang. She looked around warily at the others before her eyes settled on Bryni. “Kaibigan mo?”

Bryni gestured to Malinalli, who waved hesitantly, looking very confused. “Um…?”

“She said she speaks a little Spanish!” Bryni cut in. “So I said to talk to ya.”

“Oh!” Malinalli looked pleased. “Oh, yeah, I can definitely translate!”

Zhang crossed his arms and said nothing.

Bulan stepped forward, still unsure about the people surrounding her. “Tu...la amiga?”

“Sí, también soy la oficial médica.” Malinalli had to physically stop herself from speaking so fast, as the poor girl didn’t seem to have a good handle on the language. “Si tiene alguna herida, puedo tratarla.”

“Oficial...médica?” Bulan’s face seemed to light up. “Maaari kang makatulong? Puede...usted ayudar?”

Malinalli nodded and began to reach for her tools, but Bulan stopped her.

“Hindi ako, hindi ako. No *me ayudas.” She was practically bouncing as she began pulling Malinalli towards the door.

“No.” Dhar-Mon stepped in front of her. “Where are you taking her?”

“Ilipat, por favor!” Bulan seemed to be shaking. “Ang mga maliliit!”

“The little ones.” Zhang said, finally fed up with the guessing and the shaking and the state of confusion everyone was in. “She has four siblings, Malinalli, and I assume she wants you to see them.”

Malinalli looked at Bulan. “Tus hermanos?”

Bulan nodded, pointing out the door. “Por favor.” She cried. “Please.”

.

.

They could hear Ya’uq still dragging himself along the halls. As they passed the second floor balcony, now partially destroyed, they heard him muttering to himself down in the foyer and saw hints of his sporadic purple glow. Kon-Mai reached for her brothers’ hands, either for her own protection or theirs.

Zhang hesitated before they lost sight of him, and for a moment he could tell Ya’uq sensed him. The Elder reached out with his mind, and while Zhang blocked his advance, the demon pried one thing from the black depths.

Gone. Ya’uq reeled back. The others are gone.

Zhang turned and followed the group back up to the attic.

The door was the only thing at the top of a flight of stairs, isolated from the main house yet still accessible enough to be a logical place for children to sleep. Bulan led the way, turning to Malinalli, who looked confused.

“...Realmente puedes...ayuda?” Bulan asked.

Malinalli hesitated, unsure if she should give the answer she usually did. Nothing was certain on the battlefield and in here it was even less so. But Bulan still had her gun.

She nodded.

Bulan opened the door, and right away they were hit with the smell of rot. Most of them cringed, and Gur-Rai actually had to turn away, covering his face as though he would vomit if he could.

Malinalli, unfazed by the smell, stepped inside. She had seen the worst of the worst in bootcamp, but as she saw what was causing this stench, even this made her gasp.

The first thing she saw was the baby: practically an infant, still in her crib. Or, rather, it appeared to be what remained of an infant, her skeletal body only barely keeping hold of her dry skin. She looked around, the beds growing in size, each one holding a child more emaciated than the last, all of them nearly dead…

“What happened?!” She cried, before she took a breath, putting her profession face back on. “Qué les pasó a las niños?”

“Nagkasakit sila nang lumitaw ang manglo.” She answered in Tagalog, pausing for a moment.

“She says they fell ill when the mangalo...the Sectoids first arrived.” Zhang translated for her.

Bulan pointed her gun at him, and he held up his hands. Dhar-Mon stepped between the two. “There is no need for that. We are not your enemy.”

Bulan seemed shaken, her eyes still trapped on Zhang’s face. “...Matanda ka.” Lowering her gun, she took a fistful of her own, black hair, staring at it. “......Ano ang itsura ko?”

“How old do you look? Young.” Zhang answered in English at first, not thinking. “You look young. Ang parehong edad noong nakilala kita.”

She lowered her rifle as Malinalli turned back to her. “These children are…” She began. “They should be dead...ellos deberían estar muertos.”

Bulan shook her head. “No...Ellos viven. Ellos respiran.”

“Yes but…” She put a hand on her chest. “My chest...my body is filled with moisture. Mi cuerpo esta lleno de humedad.” She knelt down beside the bed where the second eldest, Diwata, lay, and put a hand on her chest. “Her blood pressure is zero. Su presión arterial es cero. No hay sangre para bombear. No hay vida.”

Bulan shook her head once again. “No!”

“Bulan.” Zhang said. “When Ya’uq came here, what did he do to you? Ano ang ginawa sa iyo ni Ya'uq?”

She refused to answer, power walking over to her siblings once again. “Mentirosa!” She spat at Malinalli. “Salvarlos a todos!”

“I’m trying!” Malinalli cried.

“Bulan, we must know what Ya’uq’s part in this is.” Dhar-Mon stepped forward. “If he is behind the state of your siblings, then we must know.”

“Hindi ko alam kung paano niya ito ginagawa!” Bulan let out a sob.

“She doesn’t know how…” Zhang raised a brow. “...But you know it’s him? Ya’uq?”

Bulan nodded.

“Then we remove him.” Kon-Mai reached for her sword. “If we eliminate the demon, then he shall release the children’s souls.”

“Hindi mo siya papatayin.” Bulan looked up with purple fire glowing in her eyes.

“She says we can’t kill him.” Zhang said. “Bakit?”

“Dahil pinipigilan niya ang oras na lumipat.” She said.

“He keeps time from passing…?” Zhang’s eyes grew wide. “Kon-Mai.”

“Yes?”

“Your leg still doesn’t hurt, does it.?”

“No…” She blinked. “...And it should, by now.”

“He has done something to affect the flow of time.” Dhar-Mon exclaimed. “I did not know psionics could. But why…?”

“He’s doing something to them.” Zhang spat. “He’s feeding off of them, draining their life force, but at the end of all of it he slows down time, so much it’s practically stopped.”

“To keep them from actually dying.” Annette whispered. “This way, the family never dies.” 

Zhang looked at Bulan once again, his eyes harsher than they had been. “You look fine. Better than fine. Kaya bakit hindi ka sakit?”

Her eyes glowing purple still, Bulan turned her back on him refusing to answer what sounded like an accusation. She turned back to Malinalli, leaning on her gun carelessly. “Quiero...mis hermanos sanados.”

Malinalli took a breath. “I can’t…” She shook her head. “No puedo curarlas. Even if we went back to the Avenger, they’d surely die in transport-”

Bulan cocked her gun at her and pulled the trigger. The bullet whizzed past Malinalli’s face, and Dhar-Mon pulled her into his arms and held up his hand: purple energy, rivaling Bulan’s, glowing in his palm.

“We are trying to HELP YOU!” He spat. “If you harm her, you will face the wrath of TWO DEMONS TONIGHT!”

“Brother, stop!” Kon-Mai cried.

“Sige at subukan! Hindi mo siya papatayin!” She bared her teeth.

“There must be a way to kill him, Bulan.” Zhang stepped forward, his hands up.

She let out the breath she seemed to be holding, letting her gun arm drop, and nodded. “Nasaktan ko si Ya'uq. Sa harap.”

“You hurt him?” Zhang gasped.

She nodded, then let down her gun for a moment. She hesitated, reaching back to undo the ribbon cinching her shirt at her waist.

The crew gathered in closer, curious as to what she was about to reveal. She let drop the ribbon, turned and lifted her shirt to reveal a gaping hole, pulsating and empty, nearly revealing her spine. There was no blood, but they could easily see the meat within.

“That looks like it hurts!” Bryni cried.

“One can...grow accustomed to pain.” Kon-Mai said quietly. “Vox Ya’uq did this?”

“No.” She said, her voice sounding almost sad. “Nang ikinulong ko siya, binaril ko siya sa likuran…”

“...And your wound comes from a shotgun...” Zhang said softly. “Your wounds appear on him. And his on you.”

“But that means y’all can hurt each other!” Bryni cried. “Y’all can die! Maybe if you...” She trailed off, realizing what that meant.

“Anong taon?” Bulan’s question cut her off. “Que año es? Ahora?”

Zhang bit his lip, swallowing. “...The year?” He sighed. “2040.”

Bulan let out a soft chuckle, stepping slowly into the middle of the room. “Kung gayon. Ano ang punto?” She sat down, cross legged, on the floor of the bedroom. “Everything I love...dead...or here.”

.

.

Gur-Rai looked up as he heard someone approaching from the stairs. His position of leaning against the wall was slightly uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to sit, in case he had to spring back up into action again.

He saw his sister coming down the stairs, limping slightly on her broken leg, and he took that chance, jumping up and going to help her. “So?”

She sighed. “There is much to consider.”

“Oh really?”

She nodded, settling on the last stair and letting her leg rest. “Vox Ya’uq can be killed.”

“...And?” He raised a brow. “That’s a good thing, yet you sound like you’re disappointed.”

“He can only be killed by Bulan herself.” She elaborated. “My striking off his hand slowed him down, but according to Malinalli he has already regrown the limb. And Bulan has survived a shot to the neck…”

Gur-Rai pursed his lips. “So I’m guessing that’s why she can’t die either.”

“The two are…” She sighed. “It is a more powerful psionic link than I’ve ever seen. They are effectively immortal. The only wounds that remain are those that are dealt at the hand of the other.”

“So why doesn’t she just kill him?” He asked. “And he’s been wandering this place for ages, why hasn’t he killed her?”

“His presence is what is keeping her dying siblings alive…” Kon-Mai’s voice cracked a bit and she cleared her throat.

“Alive? I can smell the mold from down here.” He shuddered.

“That is the children.”

“Great.” Gur-Rai hugged himself. “And she doesn’t see how keeping them alive is cruel and unusual?”

Kon-Mai hesitated at that. “...I would like to walk for a bit.”

“Your leg-”

“Is in no more danger of breaking than before.” She said as she stood. “I need to get away from that place. It’s making me ill.”

They made their way down the empty hall, watching for the Elder. They could feel him, his aura similar to the elders they knew and “loved”, but it felt much older. It faded in and out like a receding tide.

The hallway felt like it was endless, and the silence felt like it was crushing. Kon-Mai stopped short and Gur-Rai looked up at the door they had just stopped in front of. That same smell of rot was coming from behind it, and he swore he heard whispering.

“...Didn’t that diary say her mom locked herself in her room?”

Kon-Mai nodded. The two exchanged nervous glances and stepped forward, reaching for each other first, then the handle of the door.

.

.

Negotiating was useless.

They had all piled out into the hall when it became clear that Bulan was no longer listening to their attempts at bargaining. She had effectively shut down at this point, refusing to respond to anyone unless it was in relation to one of the dying children. 

“We can’t leave.” Annette repeated for the tenth time. “That...thing, he’s keeping us here.”

“...Do you think we’ll end up like them?” Malinalli asked. “If the children began wasting away when Ya’uq arrived, who’s to say this isn’t his plan? Trap people in here, suck them dry, leave them like that for all eternity.”

“The Elders…” Dhar-Mon’s voice was unusually quiet. “The Elders were always talking about the great void beyond death, how it was a demise to be feared. Who is to say Ya’uq is not also seeking some sort of eternal life?”

“Well that’s right comforting.” Bryni put a hand on her hip, playing with her gun. “Look, the Elders ain’t immortal, and Little Miss Death comes for everybody. I say we take our guns and go at the fucker with everything we got.”

They all turned and stared at Bryni like she had finally snapped. “That’s a terrible idea.” Annette deadpanned.

“It’s the only idea.” Bryni retorted. “Unless you wanna go back in there and convince Bulan to die for us.”

“They have to kill each other.” Dhar-Mon rubbed his temples. “And when one dies…”

“Yep.” Bryni looked away. “Ain’t that how it goes?”

Gur-Rai and Kon-Mai came jogging back down the hall, their faces pale-or as pale as they could seem with already blue skin.

“Are you two alright?!” Dhar-Mon cried, pushing past the group and running to his younger siblings. “Do not run off where I cannot see you! You could get hurt!”

“We’re not children, Brother.” Kon-Mai grumbled, leaning against the wall. “We must prepare some kind of strike against Ya’uq. We cannot stay here.”

“We were just discussing that.” Malinalli said. “I agree we should at least try...better than sitting here to rot.”

There was collective silence all around. And then…

Annette sighed. “Let’s try and get some rest first. Then, we fight God.”

“I’d say he’s the Devil.” Gur-Rai shrugged. “But let the theologians debate that.”

.

.

Even the night had a strange brightness hanging over it, the sun refusing to fully, properly descend into the horizon. The group had settled in a nearby room, the remains of what looked like was one of the children's bedrooms. 

Crammed into the tight space, the Chosen cuddled up to each other. Kon-Mai lay in the center of both of her brothers’ embraces, while Dhar-Mon wrapped his large body as best he could around the both of his siblings. Gur-Rai slept with his head on his sister’s stomach, using her like a pillow, his only sense sense of comfort in this terrifying place.

The only one not asleep was Zhang. Quietly, he slipped from the room and into the hallway, up the stairs, and to the door that was now locked. Bulan had all but barricaded herself inside, but he could feel her.

“Bulan.” He whispered, his voice scratchy.

At first she didn’t answer, but he heard her shift.

“You don’t have to speak.” He said in Tagalog. “Just listen. I know this was all because of me. The Triad should never have brought you or your siblings into what was your father’s business, and in doing so we all but ruined your chance at a normal life.” He took a breath. “I’m so sorry.”

Silence. Then, movement. He felt the door shift just a bit.

“If anyone deserves to be trapped here, it is me.” Zhang continued. “You should be the one who goes free.”

He heard her whimper.

“But please.” He hissed. “I know you love your siblings. You must know that this isn't fair to them. It’s not fair to keep them trapped like this-”

“You kept us trapped.” She growled. “You kept us like this for months. We got to see the sun once a day. I thought you were going to sell my sisters and I into slavery!”

Zhang stood in silence, tears burning his eyes.

“You have no right to tell me what they deserve, old man.” She growled. “You’re just as bad as Ya’uq.”

“...You’re right.” He said quietly. “In that case, the people here cannot leave unless you help them. If not for your siblings-”

Bulan let out a yelping laugh. “Them?! I don’t know any of them!” She spat. “Why should I die for them?!”

“They’re good people!”

“Like you?” She hissed. “There are no good people. There are only those who survive and those who don’t. And we are still alive.” she sounded hesitant for just a moment. “...Please go. If you stay, fine. But don’t expect mercy from me.”

Zhang pulled away from the door, his heart heavy. There would be no winning this battle. They could not even die.

.

.

The sun was still not up by the time they woke, but it hung on the horizon and cast a shadow over what remained of the day. It felt as though no time had passed at all.

The Hieromonk woke first, a chilling feeling in his bones as his siblings stirred beside him. They would have to hunt tonight, and he knew this as he shook his brother gently: this was what he was born for after all.

Gur-Rai vaguely swatted at him. “Mmmmn go away.”

“No, Brother. We must wake up.” He shook Kon-Mai at the same time, whispering to her. “How is your leg?”

“Fine.” She said quietly. “Is it time?”

“It’s as good a time as any.” Annette said as she got to her feet, clearly having been awake for hours. “So what now? How do we plan to lure him out?”

“I shall take care of that.” Zhang said.

“Do you want to die very rapidly?” Annette raised a brow. “Because if so that’s clearly the best tactical decision.”

“Nobody can die in this house.” Zhang assured her.

“That doesn't help.” Annette insisted. “Please don’t get hurt.”

He nodded, but the look on his face was empty and sad.

The rest of the party began to stir, Malinalli sitting up against the wall. Her curly hair was a matted, tangled mess, falling out of what remained of her braid, and her eyes looked tired and haunted. She began opening up some rations they brought, but no one took any. No one felt like eating, either from the magic, or the intense feeling of dread.

They went out into the foyer, minding the broken bits of wood, and pushed open the heavy door. Kon-Mai was looking around, her ears picking up every single sound. Gur-Rai was facing behind them, his eagle eyes scanning the room. Dhar-Mon pulled his hammer from his back and stepped forward, out into the garden.

They shifted into the open space of the yard, the glowing flowers reaching out from their stems towards them. They heard a quiet noise behind them, akin to static, and smelled sulfur and rot.

Zhang took a deep breath in and let it out, his eyes glowing. “He is upon us.”

.

.

Bulan stared at the window as she saw Ya’uq’s distinct purple glow begin to move through the house towards them. They were doomed. Even if death never came to this place, he would beat them within an inch of their lives and drain them dry. They had no chance to do him any harm.

She looked to her siblings, still confined to their beds. Diwata looked lucid this morning, and she was staring at Bulan, her eyes expectant. As though she were waiting. She always had been the smart one.

Bulan scoffed and shook her head. Even if she helped them, they would still lose. And her family, her happiness, hinged on staying right here. Avoiding Diwata’s piercing eyes, she turned on her heel, leaving the attic and stepping into the dark, musty hallway. The door at the end was open, just a crack. Barely enough to tell someone had gone inside but just enough to know…

“Nanay?” She called out to her mother, and heard a soft sound of movement. Bulan jogged, that jog turned into a sprint as she raced down the hall, eagerly awaiting the warm embrace of her…

She did not scream at the sight of her mother. She could not muster a scream, the sound was stuck in her throat at the shock that awaited her. She could only gaze blankly at the sight of her mother hanging by her neck, from the ceiling that should have rotted years ago but didn’t. 

The woman moved, the rotting frames creaking as the rope swung just a bit, and Bulan’s poor mother reached out, her wrinkled hand longing for her daughter’s touch.

Instead of going to her, Bulan looked down at the gun in her hand, and thought of how desperately she wanted to end this suffering. She sank to her knees, the floor underneath her covered in dust that seemed to cover her like a blanket.

This was not fair. Not to them. Not to her. Not to the people trapped here. Not to the little ones. Not to her mother.

.

.

The battle did not begin in their favor. 

Ya’uq emerged from the darkness of the front door, dragging himself out with his gnarled hands. The group scattered, Kon-Mai drawing her sword and cloaking herself, disappearing into the wind. Dhar-Mon held his hammer but also conjured up his own psionic energy. Gur-Rai grappled to a nearby tree, Malinalli dove for cover, and the rest drew their guns.

They were not here to play games. Zhang gave the order. “Shoot to kill!”

Ya’uq rose up to his full height, raised his arms, and made a sound that suddenly cut across the minds of everyone listening. It felt like a needle piercing the brain. Kon-Mai involuntarily dropped her cloak, and Gur-Rai collapsed from the tree branch he had stood on.

“Live. Live. You all live.” Ya’uq whispered desperately. “I see the void. I cannot die. Don’t let me die.”

Dhar-Mon, recovering from the psionic blow the quickest, tried to rush Ya’uq and did, in fact, manage to swing and slam his hammer into the creature’s hip. For a moment, it seemed as though the wound would stay.

Then with a crunch, Ya’uq’s hip righted itself. The Elder gazed down at Dhar-Mon, purple eyes glowing, and as he raised his arms, Dhar-Mon felt the same stinging pain in his head he’d felt when Bhandasura had nearly killed him. He tried to duck away but collapsed, blood dripping from his nose.

Malinalli screamed and rushed over, throwing herself over the much larger man and right into the path of the Elder. Zhang called out for her, and Annette broke formation and rushed Ya’uq. What her plan was, no one would know, because Ya’uq swatted her aside like she weighed nothing. She across the yard, her back hitting the greenhouse and cracking the glass, nearly shattering it. 

Kon-Mai rushed forward toward the beast, but though her leg did work it was still a sore point, and it slowed her down enough that Ya’uq got the jump on her. She swung and, like always, the blade hit it’s target, but Ya’uq seemed to not even notice it, and instead he grabbed the Chosen woman by her braids and slammed her head into the ground, leaving her dazed.

Zhang fired, again and again, but if he was hitting this creature (and he honestly wasn’t sure if he was), then his bullets were doing less than nothing. The Chosen themselves couldn’t bring this thing down. There really was no winning…

Then he heard it. The footsteps.

Bulan stepped from the house, practically glowing in the low light. Ya’uq turned his gaze on her, his eyes wide.

Their eyes met, as though they were having an entire conversation without speaking. For a moment, it looked as though they had known each other their entire lives. This was the reunion of old friends.

Bulan said nothing as she pointed her shotgun forward, and Ya’uq roared and charged her, trying to stop her. 

As the first hit tore into Ya’uq, splitting the Elder’s chest open in a shower of purple ichor, so too did a stain of red splatter on Bulan’s shirt. She cried out, stopping briefly, long enough for Ya’uq to sweep her away with his hand, causing her to drop her gun as she fell to the side. She got back to her feet, holding her now very injured chest and struggling to breathe. He would never deal the killing blow, but she saw him grab for her again and slid out of the way, only just missing his grabbing hands.

Ya’uq let out a roar that shook the very foundations of the house, bringing down some of the intricate baroque stonework. Those who were standing fell to their knees, and those already on the ground tried to cover their heads. Bulan frantically searched for her shotgun but it had disappeared into the aether.

“Hey.” A gravely voice hissed, and Gur-Rai tapped the ground near her. He was laying in the bushes under the tree, and she looked over, their eyes meeting. With a toothy grin, he pulled his machete from his belt and tossed it to her. “Use that.”

She looked down at the machete, smiled, and nodded at him. Getting back to her feet, she took a breath and charged, not daring to waste a second.

The first swipe cut so deep into Ya’uq’s hip it sent him tumbling to the ground on his knees. Bulan too faltered, but she miraculously kept her footing despite the blinding pain. Unyielding, she did not think, she simply swung at him, cutting across his eyes. Her scream was almost as loud as his, but she was undeterred, even though her vision was quite literally nothing but red.

Ya’uq reached out for her one last time, and it looked almost like he was begging. One last word. Please.

One fell swoop. As he bent over, Bulan shoved the blade into Ya’uq’s skull, cracking it wide open. He screamed, the air around him turning to static and pain. Purple light flashed from him for only a moment before his body curled in on itself, limbs bending like a dead spider as he spasmed, then with one last whimper, fell still

Bulan stood tall and triumphant for just a moment, as the darkness in the sky began to lift away. The sun hit her face, the warmth and the light…

Then she fell backwards into the dust. Zhang ran to where Bulan was collapsed, the darkness surrounding them lessening with every step. As he reached her, he saw her chest rising and falling, but his relief was short lived when he saw the blood trickling down her face, and the gaping, bloody wound in her own skull.

“Shaojie…” She hissed, but it was not malicious.

“Nandito ako.” He knelt beside her. “I am so, so sorry. You should not have had to do this.”

She whimpered, closing her bloody eyes as best she could. “The little ones. Are they okay?”

Zhang looked around at his team, each of them beginning to clamber to their feet. Gur-Rai, no doubt coming over to get his sword back, knelt down a foot or so from Bulan, his face grave. Kon-Mai was still curled on the ground, wheezing from pain, but Malinalli and Dhar-Mon were already up and attending to her.

Zhang nodded, sinking to his knees as Annette ran over to them. “They’re okay now, Bulan.”

She closed her eyes, tears mixing with the blood. She clasped her hands over the wound in her chest, and he saw her trembling.

“It’s okay…” He said quietly, and Annette stepped closer to her and knelt at the girl’s head, wiping the tears and blood from her face.

“Nanay…” Bulan sniffled. “Nasaan ang nanay ko?” Her eyes were flickering.

Annette took hold of one of her hands, Zhang the other, and in her last breaths, Bulan began to sing.

“Ili-ili tulog anay,

Wala diri imong nanay…”

Her voice faltered, once, and the last lyrics were said in what was barely a whisper. “Kadto tienda bakal papay.

Ili-ili tulog anay.”

.

.

They laid Bulan in one of the attic beds, alongside her siblings, her eyes closed peacefully as though she were asleep. The blankets pulled up around her made it seem so: she was simply sleeping, and at the end of this nightmare, she would wake up.

Maybe one day she would, Zhang thought as he closed the door for the last time. He descended the stairs, the empty mansion whispering to him as he did. He felt lighter somehow, as though being here had lifted an old weight he still suffered with.

Kon-Mai’s leg was throbbing so much just thinking made her want to scream, so Dhar-Mon was charged with carrying her back to the Skyranger. He had been worried for Gur-Rai after his fall, but his brother insisted that all he had were a few scratches. “Nothing like what our poor sister went through.”

“And nothing like that poor girl…” Kon-Mai retorted, her voice weak and tired. “We should create a memorial for her in the Avenger.”

“Her and her siblings.” Dhar-Mon sighed. “She fulfilled her duty to her family. She saved them.”

“What duty, Brother?” Gur-Rai raised a brow.

“The eldest sibling must protect the younger.” He said. “It is why I protect you.”

“Hey now.” Gur-Rai gently punched him in the arm. “Don’t go imprisoning an ancient god to keep me alive, you hear me?”

“Brother.” Kon-Mai insisted. “I would never wish for you to suffer that fate. We all protect each other.” She smiled. “If one of us falls, would the others not be lost?” 

The rest of the exhausted party followed them back down the dirt path, through the trees to the very dusty and slightly sunbleached Skyranger. Bryni kicked open the cockpit and lowered the ramp. “WHOOEE! Poor baby ain’t been cleaned in days!” She laughed. “Well come on everyone! Don’t dilly dally!”

“I must confess, even if it led to this, I’m happy you sent that distress signal.” Zhang admitted to Annette when they entered.

“I suppose I am glad to be out of that wretched place.” Annette nodded. “Thank you, for me and for Bulan.”

“I am thankful we could help her.” Zhang sighed. “...If we truly did.”

“She and her siblings are resting now.” Annette assured him. “We did what we could.”

“I know.” He looked up, watching the Darkstrider cleaning his blade. “And thank you, Darkstrider.”

“Hm?” He looked up. “Hey, Bulan did the hard work. I just lent her the machete.” He twirled it in his hand. “Funny, it doesn’t seem right just calling it that.”

“It doesn’t have a name?” Annette raised a brow.

Zhang buckled his seatbelt. “You know. Bulan’s name...it means moon.” He said quietly. “A symbol of change, and of the passage of time.”

.

.

Inside the house, so quiet and still, as the dust began to settle and the light finally began to fade, a door closed upstairs.

The figure of a girl moved through the house, slowly at first, then with the enthusiasm of a child, sprinting freely though the halls. Abandoning her ripped blue skirt, she had donned a pair of slacks from her own father’s closet, and one of her mother’s fine blouses.

She ran out into the garden, sunlight and wind and air, real fresh air, washing over her face. For only a moment she stopped, not wasting a second. She stooped and picked up that old shotgun, her Ol’ Reliable.

She knew he was still out there, but now she knew she could win, and if push came to shove, well, Shaojie did owe her a favor~

In the year 2040, at the young, bright age of 97, Bulan Kepa threw open the gates, and stepped out into the world.

.

.

.

.

.

Summary: The party, confined to their hiding spot, begins searching through the papers on the desk for more information about Bulan and her family. Zhang, frustrated, takes a break to talk with Kon-Mai; as it turns out, Zhang is 99 years old thanks to the Elders’ gifts. Later, Annette finds Bulan’s diary from 1962, and it is revealed there was a Sectoid invasion around their home, made worse by her father’s paranoia. It is also revealed that although Bulan attempted suicide, she is unable to die. Using Dhar-Mon’s power, Bryni finds and converses with Bulan, and gets her to agree to meet with them. Upon meeting Malinalli, Bulan takes them to the room her sick siblings are resting in, and asks if Malinalli can fix them. However, the children are so far gone, Malinalli cannot treat them, and it is discovered Ya’uq has been draining them of energy to keep himself alive. Bulan refuses to fight Ya’uq, despite being the only one who can wound him, as doing so would kill her in the process. The group attempts to confront Ya’uq themselves, but he quickly overpowers them, and they are unable to wound him in the slightest. When all seems lost, Bulan realizes her family is suffering and joins the battle, at first being struck down by Ya’uq, but upon acquiring Gur-Rai’s machete, she is able to land a decisive blow, killing him. Zhang runs to her, apologizing to Bulan as she dies, but she simply asks him if her siblings are safe. After assuring her they are, Bulan dies with a lullaby on her lips. The gang returns to the Skyranger, where Zhang reflects on the fact that Bulan’s name symbolizes change and the passage of time.

(And so concludes the spooky saga. I think this one was hard to write because I so desperately wanted it to come out good, and just didn’t believe I was able to do it. I think, however, this did come out pretty decently, and wrapping this up, tying in the lore especially, was extremely fun!

Edit: You may notice there is an afterward that wasn’t there before. Yes! I was sitting on it all day and  something felt very...wrong about Bulan’s death at the end, especially with things being how they are. So, I’ve added this epilogue per se. You’ll be seeing her again.)

Archive: https://chosenstories.tumblr.com/

[ridiasfangirlings]

One Night in the Dark

by Kabei Yukako

A lovely anonymous benefactor was kind enough to translate this and gave me permission to post it here, please enjoy!

“A large and exceptionally strong typhoon is expected to strike the Kanto region late tonight until early dawn. Disturbances in the railway schedule should be anticipated. The Meteorological Agency advises everyone to not leave their homes unless absolutely necessary...”

In middle of the strong rain and wind Yata pedalled his bike and reached Fushimi's home, where he, half pushed by the strong wind, stumbled into the entry hall. “Ugh, that weather really is terrible.”

Despite grumbling about it his voice betrayed his excitement. It'd be stranger if a middle school boy who lived in the present wouldn't get excited by a typhoon. He removed the hood of his raincoat, which the rain had penetrated even though he had pulled it up to his jaw, and shook his body from head to bottom like a dog, making raindrops fly everywhere.

To Yata Fushimi's house was less a “house” and more an “estate”. The entrance hall atrium was wide enough to hold a ball in and at the end of it was a wide staircase that looked like a young lady might descend from it while gracefully holding up the hem of her dress.

“Saruhiko...”

Just as Yata was about to call out to his friend, who should be upstairs in his room, he heard something crash behind him, and the sound of it made him jump. “Uah!?”

Deciding that it would be better to keep his bike indoors, he tried to open the large and heavy door but even though he had just stumbled through it it wouldn't move one bit, no matter how he pushed and pulled. Had his bike gotten caught in it, acting like a bar on the door?

Despite being obstructed by the heavy door, the wind howled outside and its rumble echoed in the entry hall. Just then the lights, which were illuminating the hall, flickered suddenly. The chandelier hanging from the high ceiling blinked before darkness abruptly fell.

“Oh... a blackout, really? This is getting pretty serious...” Yata muttered, looking around in the darkness that enveloped him. His merry voice started to sound a little hollow.

He heard the sound of water above him as if the world had been turned upside down and a lake was floating over his head. When he held his breath and strained his ears, tap... tap... he could hear a noise like that among the sound of water. Tap... tap... it came closer from the direction of the steps... it sounded almost like a murderer creeping closer to his prey...

Clank!

Yata's heart jumped at the sudden, high sound. Clank, clank... something hit the tip of his shoe. He almost let out a scream but quickly pressed a hand on his mouth and held his breath.

The footsteps had also come to a stop. Yata realised that something must've fallen down and crouched slowly down, feeling around on the floor. Even though the floor, made of antique tiles, was cold and hard, his fingers slipped into the layer of water that had accumulated there.

He felt the object with his fingertips and grabbed it, confirming its shape with his hands. Scissors...? Realising this, he got goosebumps.

Where is he...? The sound of footsteps had disappeared so he couldn't tell anymore. With his hand still on his mouth and while staring into the darkness, he slowly back away until he remembered that the door didn't open.

Outside a typhoon. A closed room he couldn't escape. On top of that a blackout. A somewhat “typical” western house... all perfect elements for a scenario. Y'know, the suspenseful kind where someone gets captured by a serial killer...

Wait, Saruhiko...! The moment Yata remembered that Fushimi was supposed to be upstairs a feeling other than fear won. He didn't know if he could fight back if push came to shove, but he grabbed the scissors nonetheless and called out with all his heart.

“Saruhiko...! Are you alright!?”

Right in that moment a bright light shone directly into his eyes. Blinded, Yata averted his face. “Uwah!”

“Misaki?” heard Yata a voice say from the direction of the light source.

“Eh?” Yata placed a hand on his forehead to shade his eyes and stared past the spots still left in front of his eyes. There was Fushimi standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding a torch in his hand.

“Wh- what the hell...” Suddenly sapped of his strength, Yata sunk to the floor limply. “So it was you, Saruhiko...”

“That's my line. So it was you, Misaki... I was wondering who was making that much noise in the hall.” Fushimi snorted and offered Yata his hand.

“A-and what about you, carrying scissors with you? What did you think you'd have to fight with?”

Yata laughed, trying to hide his embarrassment by poking fun at Fushimi as he grabbed the pale wrist floating in the darkness. Fushimi, too, grabbed Yata's wrist and pulled him up.

Fushimi's arm felt just like the floor of the mansion. Cool and firm and yet damp with sweat.

“What did you think you'd have to fight with?” Yata thought about that once more. Fushimi had gone so far as to carry a weapon with him, he had been so scared that it had slipped out of his hand – what had he thought had come here...?

“Saruhiko...” Yata purposely made his voice sound bright. “Don't worry. No way would anyone come back home in the middle of a typhoon like this.”

He let the backpack he had been carrying underneath his raincoat drop between them with an exaggerated thud.

“It's okay if I sleep here tonight, right? Hehehe, I brought a lot of stuff with me. You really do get excited in a typhoon at night, huh? Cola, snacks, and my mum prepared sandwiches for us, they're perfect as a midnight snack. And no matter what, during a typhoon you gotta have some croquets!” The smell of the fried food that had been prepared just before Yata had left wafted out of the containers that were crammed into his backpack and tickled their noses. Yata took the torch from Fushimi's hand who stood there, silent and apparently taken aback, and held it under his chin, trying to make a crazy face as best as he could. Fushimi's eyes, filled with the dark light, blinked behind his black-rimmed glasses. He didn't do Yata the courtesy of laughing at his silly face, but -

“... no way would anyone come here in the middle of a typhoon,” he said, hitting Yata lightly on the mouth with his fist and laughing earnestly.

“Yeah, right.”

“Also, 'eating a croquet in a typhoon' is not a thing.”

“Eh? Isn't that a Japanese tradition? Like eating an ehomaki on setsubun.”

“It's just something that became popular online. Even the ehomaki tradition is just a sales strategy of corporations.”

“Come on, don't ruin it for me. If you're gonna split hairs over it, then you just don't have to eat one.”

“But I want to.”

“You do, huh?”

Let's spent the whole night together and talk without sleeping. Let's stay indoors while the room is cut off from the world through the sound of the wind and rain pattering against the window, let's huddle up under a blanket. Outside a typhoon. A closed room they can't escape. On top of that a blackout. When they're together, a night like this was the best

[coruscantexpat]

Bonds Unbroken - Chapter 21: Home Again

Meetra felt the heavy thud of the Ebon Hawk’s landing beneath her feet as she strode down the corridor from the starboard dormitory. She’d spent most of her time there in the last week since they’d left Telos, due both to her exhaustion and the tension on the ship. The Handmaiden rarely emerged from the cargo hold, but when she did, Atton and Bao-Dur would practically flee the common areas until she returned. Meetra hadn’t even seen Kreia since their departure. Every time she’d thought to check in on her, she’d felt an overwhelming unease, perhaps not entirely her own. If the old woman wanted to be left alone, Meetra would respect that.

As she passed through the main hold, she kept her eyes averted from the rust-colored droid standing in the small storage compartment. Discovered shortly after takeoff, Meetra and Atton had wanted to jettison it due to the uncomfortable resemblance to the HK-50s, but T3 wouldn’t hear it. Though reluctant, the little droid was adamant they leave the doppelganger where it was, and despite her misgivings, Meetra agreed. It was nonoperational anyway, though T3 suggested it could be restored with replacement parts.

“Thing’s the galaxy’s most terrifying scarecrow.” Atton emerged from the corridor to the cockpit and fell into step beside her, grimace still in place as he looked away from the droid. “Still don’t understand why the little trash can wouldn’t let us space it.”

“He said it’s a ‘friend,’ although he didn’t sound entirely confident.” Meetra frowned as she recalled T3’s explanation. Her Binary was near-fluent, but some of the more complex translations still gave her a little trouble. “‘Friend’ might be too strong… perhaps ‘ally’ is closer.”

“Oh, so like Kreia. Or the Snow Princess.” He made a face. “Droid Kreia. There’s a fear I didn’t know I had.”

“Don’t start,” Meetra warned, but she returned his grin. “How’s your arm?” After much grousing, she’d finally relented and allowed him to remove the sling the day before.

“It’s fine. Look —” He lifted the arm and rotated it for proof, though Meetra noticed the full range of motion had not completely returned. “Trust me, this is nothing.” Recalling the scars crossing his torso, she knew he was serious, joking tone aside. Atton brought his hand to the back of his neck, a gesture she’d come to associate with discomfort. “So… you’ve been to Dantooine before, right?”

“I grew up there.” She left it at that, and he didn’t press. “... but I haven’t been back since before my trial.” The thought brought back memories, both painful and pleasant, and she shied away from them. It felt like they belonged to a different person now.

Bao-Dur was at the workbench when they entered the garage, T3 at his feet. A new remote droid circled his shoulders and let out a sharp chirp at the sight of them. The Zabrak turned, sharp canines displayed in his welcoming smile. “On your way out to Dantooine, General?”

“Actually, I stopped by to see if you wanted to go with us.” Meetra didn’t see the sharp glance Atton gave her at the0- last word, or the small smile that tugged at his mouth.

Bao-Dur didn’t answer immediately; instead, he glanced back to the mess of circuitry and wiring on the workbench. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d prefer to stay here for now. I had my fill of excitement on Telos.” His grin returned. “Besides, there’s something I wanted to work on; a surprise initially, but I’m afraid I’ll need your help with it after all.” He rooted among the pile and produced the lightsaber component Chodo had gifted her. “I hope you don’t mind, General — I found it in your bag when I was looking for a medpac. I know your lightsaber was… well, I thought you might want to construct a new one, and I wanted to offer my assistance.”

Meetra eyed the cylinder like it was a fanged viper. To have a lightsaber again, to build a new weapon to her specifications — the temptation was strong. But so was her upbringing. “It’s a Jedi’s weapon, Bao-Dur. I don’t…” She struggled to find the words. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the offer, but she wasn’t sure it was a weapon she should, or even could wield again.

“It might make us even more of a target,” Atton offered when she fell silent. “I mean, sure, having a lightsaber to wave around would solve a lot of problems, it would also make the Exchange’s job a lot easier.”

“A fair point.” Bao-Dur returned the piece to the workbench, seemingly unperturbed. “However, if you change your mind, my offer still stands, General. The only thing I need are the remaining parts and your expertise.”

“I’ll think about it,” she promised and reached out to squeeze his arm. He laid a hand over hers, mouth turned up in a small smile, before returning to his project. Meetra waved for Atton to follow, and they resumed their walk toward the loading ramp, only to pause when T3 followed, beeping, in their wake. “Meetra knelt to put herself on the droid’s level. “You sure? It could be dangerous.” His indignant chirp pulled a laugh from her as she stood. “Alright, fair enough. I guess we have a third.”

“It's coming with us?” Atton scowled down at T3, who issued a rude buzz in return. “Tin can’ll probably get a rock in its treads as soon as we’re off the ramp.”

“He survived Peragus and Atris — I think he can take care of himself.” T3 extended his taser and flamethrower attachments and waved them to back up her claims. “I’ll take all the help you can offer, T3.” He chirped, pleased, and rolled past them toward the loading ramp. Meetra followed, Atton, still grousing, at her heels.

The setting sun hit them full force as they left the ship, and Meetra raised a hand to shield her face while her eyes adjusted. She registered the smell next, and her knees suddenly felt weak. Beneath the ship exhaust floated the thick grassy scent of Dantooine’s fields, spiked with the barest hint of lavender. The smell had haunted her dreams since leaving twenty-six years ago, and for a moment, she let herself pretend she never had. The breeze blew another whiff of lavender past her, cutting through the late afternoon heat, and she leaned into it for comfort.

A hand touched her shoulder. “Meetra?” Atton’s voice shattered the illusion, and Meetra pulled herself from childhood memories with a heavy sigh. She lowered her hand and opened her eyes to find him watching her with concern. She gave him a reassuring smile, and he hesitantly removed his hand as she turned to look around.

They had landed at a rudimentary dock, one she didn’t recognize. It still seemed fairly new; either it didn’t see a lot of traffic, or it had been built after Malak’s attack on the planet. The dock was little more than a durasteel pad with enough space for two large ships and heavy retaining walls. No other ships occupied the platform, though a few figures ambled across its surface. One of them, a dark haired woman dressed in a yellow and tan uniform and wielding a datapad like a club, approached. “Name?”

Meetra glanced at Atton quickly, but he only offered a shrug. “Ours, or the ship?”

“I couldn’t care less what your names are.” The woman’s attitude was impressively brusque. “I need to make a log of your arrival. Vessel name?”

“The Ebon Hawk.”

The woman snorted. “Yeah, okay. We’ll go with that. Wouldn’t mention it to the locals, though.” She entered the name into the datapad. “What’s the purpose of your arrival?”

Meetra shared another glance with Atton and opted to conceal their true intentions. “We’re heading to the Jedi Academy.”

“More salvagers huh?” Meetra frowned, but the other woman was focused on the datapad.  “Well, you gotta follow protocol like the rest. Nobody sets foot in the ruins without Administrator Adare’s permission.” Finished with the data entry, she turned and pointed at the path leading away from the dock. “Follow that up to Khoonda. Don’t get off the path, unless you like finding yourself ass-deep in kath hounds and raiders.”

“Wait, wait.” The woman scowled at Meetra, her face as severe as the bun on top of her head. “Sorry, I just need a little more information. What’s Khoonda?”

“First time on Dantooine?”

“... Sure.”

The woman shrugged. “It’s as close to city hall as we have around here. It used to be the Matale estate, but the whole family went missing right before the bombardment. The Administrator took advantage of a big empty building and rebuilt it as a new center of government four years ago.”

“That’s Adare?”

“Yeah, Terena Adare. She was the Agriculture Administrator, y’know, before.” She grimaced, and Meetra felt strangely guilty. Even though Malak’s actions had been his own, she still felt responsible for him and Revan. “Adare was the only government official to survive, and she stepped up in a big way. If not for her, this place would be nothing but raiders and wild animals. Well, more than it is now, anyway.” She jerked a thumb toward the path. “Now, no offense, but I’ve got work that needs doing. You want more information, the Administrator can give it to you.” Without waiting for a response, the woman turned away, headed toward the far end of the platform.

“Well, that was pleasant.” Atton glanced around the dock, eyeing the farmers and merchants milling about. “So, are we really wasting time with this Adare lady? You know where the Jedi Academy is, right?”

“I’d rather avoid antagonizing the locals, if possible. Besides, she might know where Vrook…” Meetra trailed off as she caught sight of a battered protocol droid stumbling near the entrance to the dock. His exterior was so scratched and pitted that the original color was indiscernible.

Atton glanced at her, then followed her gaze. “I think we’ve got enough droids for one ship. Maybe one too many.” T3 hissed at the insinuation and rolled closer to Meetra.

“No, I… I think I’ve seen him before.”

“Sure you have. They all look the same. Well, maybe not as run-down.”

“No, I mean —” Meetra shook her head and broke away, heading for the droid. “Never mind.” “Meetra.” When she didn’t turn around, he glanced down at T3 and gestured after her. “Come on.”

They caught up with Meetra as she reached the droid. It took him a moment to react to her presence, an indication of extensive sensor damage. “Salutations, ma’am. I welcome you to Dantooine on behalf of Administrator Adare and Khoonda. How may I be of service?”

“Do…” Meetra hesitated, questioning her own judgement. “Do you know me?”

The protocol droid was silent for a moment, and Meetra could practically feel the heat from his memory core as he struggled to process her question. “Apologies. There are many visitors to Khoonda, and I have no memory of the Sith invasion.”

She stiffened. “‘Sith invasion?’”

He jerked, the light behind his optical sensors flickering. “Resetting… Salutations, ma’am. I welcome you to Dantooine —”

“T3, could I get your help?” The astromech chirped and rolled up next to her while she waited for the protocol droid to finish his greeting. “Were you damaged in Malak’s bombing?”

“I believe I was, though I don’t recall it.” He fidgeted for a moment. “Administrator Adare did her best to find a mechanic, but self-diagnostics still indicate extensive damage to my exterior and memory core.”

“We could try to repair you,” Meetra offered, including both herself and T3 with a gesture. “At least internally. With your permission, of course.”

“Do we have time for this?” Atton muttered behind her, but Meetra ignored him.

The protocol droid glanced nervously between them. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt, but I must warn you that Administrator Adare may be displeased if I am further damaged.”

“We’ll be careful.” He turned so she could access the panel on his back. Meetra swung it open, setting the droid to low power before motioning T3 closer. Atton craned his neck to watch them work. “Care to fill me in?”

“I think he’s an Enclave droid. If I’m right — T3, wire these circuits together, please — he might know where Vrook is. Or at least, what he’s doing here.”

“Besides hiding?”

“Vrook’s smarter than that.” Meetra pulled her hands out of the protocol droid’s chassis to give T3 room to solder safely. “Malak may have bombed the surface, but Dantooine was always known for the Academy. The old man wouldn’t risk coming here if there wasn’t a reason.” T3 let out a sharp tweet and slid back. “Thanks, T3.” She returned the droid’s power to full and closed the panel, waiting until he turned to face her. “Do you know me?”

“Of course.” His voice was suddenly enthusiastic. “So good to see you again, Master Jedi.”

“Hey!” Meetra glanced up sharply. An old man in farmer’s garb approached, his face set in a furious scowl. “What did that droid just call you?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “It called you a Jedi, didn’t it?! I heard it!”

Meetra opened her mouth, scrambling for an excuse, but Atton’s hand fell on her shoulder as he stepped between her and the farmer. “Do we look like Jedi?” An easy, lopsided grin tugged at the corner of his mouth and he held his arms out loosely to either side; the very picture of friendly and easy-going to the untrained eye, but Meetra noted the stance gave him easy access to his blasters.

The farmer glanced at each of them in turn, taking in their weapons and lack of armor. “Well, no, but… I heard the droid call you Jedi; I know it did.”

“Yeah, but look at it.” Atton chuckled, and the old man answered with a weak laugh of his own. “Busted old clanker probably mistakes someone for a Jedi every other week. Your Administrator should really consider scrapping it if she can’t get it working properly.”

“Been saying as much for nearly a year,” the farmer agreed with a conspiratorial nod. “Sorry, miss. Jedi are a touchy subject for us locals.”

Meetra waved away the apology, grateful for Atton’s quick thinking. “It’s alright. Is it because of Malak?”

“Partly, him and Revan. But truthfully, it’s all of them. If they’re not lifting a finger to defend the Outer Rim from invaders, they’re turning on each other with innocent folk caught in the middle.” He shook his head. “Planet’s a sight better without them, maybe even the whole Rim. Anyway, my apologies again. If you all are headed up to Khoonda, best speak with Captain Zherron, as well as the Administrator. Dantooine’s not as safe as it used to be.” With a last wave, he headed back to the merchant stall he’d stormed away from.

Meetra let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

Atton nodded, then fixed the Enclave droid with a glare. “That’s not going to work again, so let’s try to keep the ‘J-word’ to minimum, huh?”

The droid bobbed his head. “Of course, sir; I do apologize. It’s just that it’s been so long since I last spoke to a member of the Order. My excitement got away from me.”

Disappointment settled over Meetra’s shoulders. “Then you haven’t spoken to Vrook Lamar.”

“No, not since before Malak’s attack. I fear I have no knowledge of the whereabouts for any member of the Council.”

Atton crossed his arms. “So, what can you tell us?”

The droid started to fidget again. “My apologies, but I’m afraid there is actually very little I am permitted to tell you.”

“And why is that?”

He turned his optical sensors on Meetra. “My apologies, Master, but you are Meetra Surik. You are listed in my records as one of the… initiates who followed Master Dekari into the Mandalorian Wars. I have been programmed to withhold any information pertaining to the Order since your departure.” He bowed his head. “I am sorry, Master; I wish it were not so.”

She managed a weak smile. “Me, too, but it’s not your fault.” Meetra turned and waved for Atton and T3 to follow. “Thank you, all the same.”

“Wait, Master Surik.” The droid hobbled after them. “Since you mention Master Lamar, I have a file in my records involving you both. I don’t know if it will help you, but as it originates before your departure, I can show it to you, if you wish.”

Meetra hesitated, then nodded. “Alright, but lower your volume and keep the projection small.”

“Of course, Master.” The light behind the Enclave droid’s optical sensors flickered and then glowed blue as he projected two figures: a marginally younger Vrook, still balding but less lined, and a small, wrinkled, bat-eared alien. The footage was staticy and the sound quality poor, the words cutting in and out.

Vrook’s voice came in mid-sentence. “... nearly broke my padawan’s arm! Kavar won’t reign her in, no matter how many times I speak to him. You have to step in, Vandar.”

“Your concern is noted, but she is not your responsibility.” Meetra’s heart lurched at the sound of Vandar’s voice. The old Jedi had always projected a calmness that put everyone at ease. “She is headstrong, but —” A burst of static erased the rest of his words.

“... is uncontrollable. No student… immune.” Vrook was uncharacteristically animated, shaking his head and throwing up his hands. “Half of them love her… them want her head! These emotions she engenders… lead them to the Dark Side! If you and Kavar won’t… do it myself.” The holorecord flickered and dissolved into static, the droid’s sensors returning to their usual yellow.

Atton glanced at Meetra cautiously. “That was about you?” She didn’t answer; she didn’t have one to give.

The Enclave droid watched her closely, his anxiety clear in the way he rocked from side to side. “Forgive me, Master. I hope I have not offended.”

“No, of course not.” She forced a smile. “Thank you; it’s a good reminder.” He nodded hesitantly, then offered a quick half bow before shuffling away. Meetra watched him go, heart heavy, until T3 bumped against her leg with a soft trill. “I’m alright. Thank you, though.” She sighed and looked to Atton, found him watching her. “You’re right - we’re wasting time. Let’s go talk to Adare.”

Atton fell into step beside her as they headed up the path, T3 rolling along on her other side. Out of the corner of her eye, Meetra caught Atton glance at her, then look away and back again before he spoke. “So… not a lot of love lost between you and this Vrook guy, huh?”

She let out a dry chuckle. “That’s one way to put it. Vrook was one of Revan’s biggest detractors; those of us who followed her were little better than Sith, as far as he was concerned.” Her smile faded. “Part of me wonders if he was right.”

“Well, I don’t know much about Jedi, but I don’t think he was right. About you, at least.” She smiled again, a genuine one this time, and he glanced away before she saw the extent of his feelings. “The other Jedi that droid mentioned, though… who was that?”

“Vandar? He was headmaster at the Academy.”

“No, the other one it talked about. Who’s Master Dekari?”

Meetra tensed, her pleased smile flattening into a thin line. “Her name wasn’t always Revan.” She quickened her pace, and Atton let her pass him without further comment. The completeness with which she’d shut down was startling, and he worried anything more would drive her further away. T3 swiveled toward him with an uncertain murmur, then sped up to match Meetra’s pace.

Full chapter on AO3 and FFN.

[ambidextrousarcher]

The Rajmata and the Last Guardian of an oath

My meta entry for @teambaahubali‘s Summer Challenge! Week 1: Parichay.

At first glance, Sivagami and Kattappa are very different characters, yet I find them strangely similar at several points, mainly because both Sivagami and Kattappa are fiercely devoted to the throne of Mahishmati, each in their own way. I feel that their entry scenes encapsulate that beautifully, both the one in the present timeline, as well as the flashback. The movie opens with Sivagami staggering in, and there is a sense of pathos in that scene. It is obvious when you look closely that she is a woman of influence, for, in those times, only such women would have dressed so. Her posture itself seems imperious, commanding. She has a baby in her arms, and is sorely wounded because of an arrow, yet she soldiers on. Her defining character moment is her perseverance here. She would fight fate to accomplish what she wishes to, it is evident in the scene. It is made even clearer that Sivagami is a daring fighter when the soldiers attack her. Her response shows that she is quite sharp, and can anticipate events before they occur. Here, I did wonder: what caused her to be unaware enough to be backstabbed? That niggling suspicion remained throughout the movie for me, at least, until she believed that Bhalla would indeed be content with a palace. That was the moment of realization for me, that Bhalla was her blind spot. But, hey, I diverged from the point of interest. Once she defeats the soldiers, she falls into water. Even though she is unable to swim, she fights with all her might against the current. Here, she also makes quite an impressive monologue addressed to the Gods. She says that she has sinned, but that her life should be enough to atone for it. That Mahendra Baahubali must live at any cost. For the Kingdom that awaited him. For his mother. From this, it is evident that Sivagami is a royal woman and there has been treason of some sort that she holds herself guilty for. What it was, is a matter that is unearthed later. Sivagami defies everything that works against her to the end, she manages to keep Mahendra afloat even as the life is draining out of her. I got the impression that she is a very formidable woman in this sequence.

Sivagami also has another entry scene in the same movie.  This one is not of a Sivagami bowed down by guilt, this is her coming into her element. The scene opens with rebels planning a coup, refusing to “follow a woman.” Sivagami glides in (power-walks in, more like) baby in hand. The alacrity with which people obey her shows that she is a woman who commands respect. She asks the loyalists to stand by her side, unflinching. Some few people go to her side, and the rebel leader orders her and her son killed. The man who got the order kills the conspirators instead, then salutes Sivagami, hand over his heart. The rebel leader tries to kill Sivagami and her son, and Sivagami is quick on the defense, ably taking control of the situation. Whoa. Woman power! She demonstrates here that she has a fine grasp of politics, a fine and subtle way of controlling any situation. She also displays an innate sense of fairness when she states that the throne belongs to the better of “her sons”, I could see shades of Kunti and Gandhari in her, the way she accepted Baahu as her son, and the sense of righteousness that gave him equal rights. She handles an irate Bijjala with ease, seriously, I love the way she puts him down. And then that iconic Sivagami line “En sol en kattalai, en kattalaiye saasanam.” Translated: “My word is my law, my law an ordiance.” That one line speaks so much about her. Her confidence, her self-assurance, everything is clear in that line. Overall, a mass entrance!

Kattappa’s entrance, on the other hand, as badass as it is, has a sense of servility in it. He enters when the bull has almost gored Bhalla, putting himself in harm’s way for his King. He gets injured for his pains, and Bhalla commends him for his loyalty in a typical Bhalla way. He says “Dog, you want to kill me, and yet you save my life.” Here, there is a hint at a backstory. Kattappa has a reason to kill Bhalla and yet is honoring his oath to him. When Bhalla gives Kattappa a boon, he asks Bhalla to “free the mother from her pain of the last 25 years”. So I get the feeling that Kattappa is close to whoever “the mother” is. Who ends up being Devasena, Mahendra Baahubali’s mother. I get the feeling that Kattappa wants to free her, but is unable to, because of his oath. So, at this juncture, this entrance, there is the same sense of pathos surrounding Kattappa that surrounded Sivagami when she staggered on screen.

Kattappa too, has a second entry scene. A scene that happens almost simultaneously to Sivagami’s. When she calls out “Kattappa!” in that hall full of rebels, Kattappa vaults into their presence. He’s a formidable warrior, and seems fiercely devoted to Sivagami, but here, too, that sense of pathos is largely absent. This is a Kattappa proud of the person he serves, a Kattappa helping righteousness on its way, not a Kattappa bowed down by grief, but one coming into his element.

I find Sivagami and Kattappa to be interesting personality foils. Sivagami is always in control of herself, someone who has a very strong personality, who is sure of herself and her authority. Kattappa, as respected as he might be (he does seem to command a certain amount of respect), as strong a warrior he might be, is always bowed down in servility, bound to the oath of his ancestors, and nothing illustrates that better than their entry scenes, which form their parichay for the moments to come.

That’s it for my meta, I hope it’s okay for the event!

@chaanv, thanks a lot, Surbhi di, for teaching me to make GIF’s! 

Tagging @teambaahubali @teammahishmati

Signing off, 

Nila.

[asterinjapan]

Museum day

Good evening again from a rainy Tokyo!

Well, I think it’s dry now, but it’s been raining for most of the day, I assume due to whatever remains of tropical depression ex-typhoon number 20 of this year. And of course, there is a very easy option to do on a rainy day: visiting museums! Or well, just the one today, haha.

On a rainy day and a national holiday, I for sure wasn’t the only one with that idea, but since Ueno Park houses a ton of museums and a zoo and what not, the crowds still spread out.

So, follow me into the Tokyo National Museum of Nature and Science today!

Actually, I’ve been sort of intending to visit this museum since my very first visit in 2010, when a trip via school let me see a glimpse of the giant blue whale statue (life size!) that marks the entrance. However, visiting a museum is never first on my list when I go to Japan, simply because I want to do so many things. With today’s weather, I didn’t think one of my planned side trips into the mountains was such a good idea, so it was finally time.

As it turns out, entrance for the permanent exhibitions (there was no special one at the moment) was free today! Today is the enthronement of the emperor, so it’s a national holiday, and apparently also a reason to call off entry prices, haha. Once inside, I did get myself a tablet with audio guide, because with this being a broad museum on eh, nature and science, I was already fairly sure my limited vocabulary wouldn’t save me here. The tablet (or plain audio device, you could pick) was 320 yen, and it was extensive. It also offered you guides through the complex, so I picked out the longest one that would lead me through all floors. This was my day plan, after all!

First, I visited the Theater 36◯ (yeah, a circle, not a zero, they’re too cool for a simple zero). True to its name, it’s a movie theater with a screen in 360 degrees all around. You get a free audio device here for languages other than Japanese, and since only 60 people can be inside at once, it’s a wait until you can get in. I killed time by checking the introduction movies on my tablet (featuring a very cute animated triceratops girl), and then I was allowed in.

You stand on a bridge that features glass on both sides, so you can watch underneath. The theater has rotating screenings, and for October, the movie clips are the deep sea and the mantle dynamics and evolution of the Earth. I was actually most excited for the former, but ended up being most impressed by the latter. I think the deep sea clip has been here for longer, because the quality was slightly pixelated at some points. The mantle dynamics movie took you to the center of the earth, and zoomed in and out to a degree that I suddenly understood the warnings that some people might feel light-headed or motion sick here, haha. It’s not that bad, but this screening definitely tricked my brain.

After that, it was time to explore the museum proper! Actually, it consists of two buildings: the global gallery, with 3 floors in the basement and 3 floors on top, and the Japan gallery, which has 3 floors with two wings each. The route I had picked sent me to the first floor of the global gallery first, going up and then starting back down on the third floor basement, and then leading me through the Japan gallery from top to bottom.

The first floor of the global gallery immediately featured the skeleton of an Allosaurus, the first dinosaur to ever be exhibited in Japan, back in 1964. This hall features the history of the planet since the very beginning until, well, now, so that’s a lot to cover and gives a starting point for the rest of the building. It showed off biodiversity, an interactive Tree of Life display where you could follow the lines to see which organisms were linked to each other, and the development of human kind starting with the very first primates to go bipedal. It was a lot, and I noticed my guide skipped some numbers here, but I quickly found out that was on purpose. If you want to listen to all the audio guide points, you need at least two full days here.

I made my way up following the guide to the third floor, where there was an absolutely massive exhibition of specimens of all kinds of mammals and birds, including the in the wild extinct Japanese wolf and tons of deer, bears, other predators, you name it. This was overwhelming and a bit creepy (these animals did die at some point, quite probably due to hunting), but very interesting and it was pretty cool to see these animals that close. There was a play corner around the, eh, corner, for which you need to make reservations in advance, and where kids can play in a climbing construction that seemed to be littered with specimens as well (I assume replicas), so they could get a hands-on approach.

The second floor was dedicated to Japanese inventions starting in the 1600s, and the interaction with other countries that brought this around. There were direct comparisons between Japanese and European measuring devices, which was very interesting, because similar museums back in Europe wouldn’t do something like that due to the distance. Also featured here were the first computers, a replica of the Himawari satellite, Japanese clocks (which are distinctly different, because the time during days and nights was measured at a different pace) and a Global Environment detector, featuring a giant screen that you could interact with to draw up measuring results on all kinds of topics, sometimes even being the actual measurements of that moment. It’s a pretty interactive museum, so there is a lot to see and do.

At this point I took a break, to find out I’d already been wandering around for two hours! And I was barely getting started, oops. So I quickly went down to the basement to find an exhibition on ‘exploring the structure of nature’, or ‘that part where I’m really happy I rented a tablet in English, because I barely even know these terms in English’, haha. It was super interesting though, showcasing a model of a particle accelerator, and a ‘cloud chamber’ in which you could observe cosmic radiation hitting earth, and actual moon rocks and the periodic table with all elements (except the radioactive ones) on display.

Another floor up is one of the more impressive ones, as it houses tons of skeletons of animals throughout the ages, including the biggest mammoth and the earliest human. They had some scarily realistic reconstructions of early humans, so lifelike that I was almost fooled into thinking they were actually people dressing up, haha.

One more floor up is one of the more popular floors, for a very easy reason: dinosaurs! There were quite a few on display, and I never fail to be impressed by the sheer size and variety of them. Not much to say here I guess, except me having a good time because dinosaurs, haha.

I made it back to the Japan gallery (the building I had started in) and after some latte, I carried myself to the third floor. I must confess I started rushing from now on, since it was already 3 PM, but this building is considerably smaller and the guide has fewer, if longer, audio spots. This building is, of course, more dedicated to the Japanese natural history, and guides you through the animals found in Japan’s waters until you find yourself facing a plesiosaurus, Futabasaurus, the first of its kind to be found in Japan. It’s reconstructed as if it’s swimming over your head, very impressive.

One floor down showcases the variety of animals found on the Japanese islands, and one of my favourites: Japanese people throughout the ages, starting in the Jomon period and ending in the Edo era (or the present, if you choose to go stand in the last spot, haha). These featured mannequins in daily life situations that were very realistic, I assume they used the same techniques as in wax museums, because I was seriously impressed, wow.

Near the end of this hall, a group of people had gathered to take pictures. You see, there was another very popular display: Hachiko. Yep, the same dog whose statue sits outside Shibuya station and of which I take a picture every time, so naturally I had to take a picture of the real deal. It’s almost weird to see him in white, his actual color, because the statue is cast in bronze. Hachiko is famous enough to get 2 plaques in English, rather than just a single line translated, haha.

On the first floor, you’ll find instruments from Japan used to throughout the ages to observe nature, including the very important ones of observing seismographic activity, rather vital in a country this active.

Finally, I was back in the basement, which has Foucault’s pendulum and uh, not much else, but I was kind of glad, because I was seriously tired and overwhelmed at this point. I learnt a whole lot today, and actually feel this is a museum you might want to visit in two trips rather than trying to stuff it all into one. I had a great time, though! I took a lot more pictures than I usually do in museums, there was just so much to see.

Of course there is a museum shop, and of course it has a special corner for Hachiko, and uh, now I have a plushie Hachiko, haha. He’s very soft and a very good boy!

It was almost 5 PM, though, so I rushed out and took a quick picture of the whale statue outside before making my way back to the station. The rain had stopped, so I walked from Ikebukuro station to Tokyu Hands to browse until dinner time, which meant I found their origami paper section, so I had a good time here, too, ahem.

Back at the hotel now, and time to go to bed, because it’ll be a long day tomorrow! It should be dry and even sunny, so fingers crossed, haha.

I’m not sure if I will update tomorrow, so for now good night and see you soon!

[ktaebwi]

Hwa Yang Yeon Hwa The Notes (Tear) - Full Translation

KRN - ENG © ktaebwi Do not use for commercial purpose. Credit properly when reposting & re-translating. Do not repost PDF file.

Download PDF: MF | Dropbox

T/N: - The below translation is for Hwa Yang Yeon Hwa The Notes, a fictional work, part of BU (BTS Universe) published by Bighit Entertainment and comes with ‘LOVE YOURSELF ‘轉’ Tear’ album. - The notes are the same for all versions except for the right entries of some members in each version. Y - Yoongi, Jimin, O - Hoseok, Taehyung, U - Namjoon, Jungkook, R - Seokjin. - In Namjoon’s entries, the sibling mentioned is a younger sibling, however the gender is not mentioned.

Seokjin 30 August YEAR 22

Can anyone remember the moment love starts? Can anyone foresee the moment love ends? What meaning lies behind the incapability of humanity to perceive those moments? And for what reason was I given the power to undo all of them?

The car came to a sudden stop, the headlight flashed, the car crashed, she was thrown upward , she fell. In the midst of all those chaotic moments, I just stood defenselessly. I heard no sound, felt no sense. It was summer but the wind felt chilly. Something rolled down along the road, making sound on its way. And then there was the smell of flower. It was when reality hit me. The Smeraldo bouquet fell out of my hand. The girl was in the middle of the road some distance away. Blood was seeping through her hair. Dark crimson blood, flowing down along the road. I thought. If only I could turn back time.

Seokjin 17 July YEAR 20

Outside the school entrance, the sound of crickets prickled in my ears. The school yard was crowded with kids laughing, joking around, racing with each other. It was the start of the summer holiday, everyone was excited. I lowered my head and walked through them. I just wanted to leave the school quickly.

“Hyung.” I lifted my head up out of surprise as someone’s silhouette popped out. It was Hoseok and Jimin. They were smiling brightly, looking at me with eyes beaming with mischief, just like usual. “It’s summer holiday today, are you just going to leave like that?”  Hoseok pulled my arm and said. I just replied “Yeah yeah”, uttered some more meaningless words and then turned away. What happened that day was just an accident. It wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t think Jungkook and Yoongi would be in the storage classroom at that time. The headmaster suspected I was covering for them. He said he could tell my father that I wasn’t a well-behaved student. I had to say something. I told him about the hideout because I thought it would be empty at the time. But it ultimately led to Yoongi getting expelled. No one knew I was involved.

“Have a good vacation, hyung! I’ll contact you later.” Hoseok stealthily dropped his hold and greeted me more cheerfully on purpose, as if he read something from my face. I gave him no response this time too. There was nothing I could say. Walking out of the school gate, I thought of the day I first went here. I was late and we were punished together. It was why we could laugh. Those moments were ruined by me.

Seokjin 11 April YEAR 22 (R)

The car screeched to a narrow halt. I was too deep in thoughts to notice the traffic lights changed. Students wearing familiar uniforms crossed the road and stared at me through the windshield. Some people were even pointing at me. I tried to laugh and bow.

I knew what I had to do. But it wasn’t like I was not scared. Will I be able to end all of these miseries and pain? Does these repeated failures mean I can never succeed? Does it mean I should give up? Is happiness only false hope to us? Thousands of thoughts flashed through my head.

In no time, I reached the gas station intersection and saw Namjoon pumping fuel some distance away. I took a deep breath in and exhaled. Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook, I recalled their faces one by one. I changed lanes and drove into the gas station. I couldn’t give up. Even if there is only 1% chance of success, I will never give up. Past the windshield, I saw Namjoon walking towards me.

Yoongi 15 June YEAR 22

I couldn’t perceive anything but the music blasting inside my head. How much I have drunk, where I am, what I was doing. I didn’t want to know, nor did I feel them to be of any importance. When I stumbled outside, the night had already come. I just let my feet take me. Pedestrians, stalls, walls, I just bumped against anywhere. It didn’t matter. I just wanted to forget everything.

Jimin’s voice still rang vividly in my mind. “Hyung. Jungkook.” Next thing I remember, I was running up the hospital stairs like crazy. The hallways in the hospital were strangely dark and long. Passing by were people wearing patient’s clothes. My heart was pounding. Their faces were ghastly pale. They showed no expression, like they were all dead. Inside my head, the sound of my breathing was banging loudly.

Past the slightly opened door of the room lied Jungkook. Unknowingly, I turned my head. I couldn’t look at him. At that moment, the piano sound, the flame, the sound of the building collapsing suddenly came to my ears. I covered my head and flopped down. It said “It’s all because of you.” It said “If only you didn’t exist.” It was my mom’s voice, no, it was my voice, no, it was someone’s voice. Those words tormented me for god knows how long. I wanted to believe that it’s not true. But Jungkook was lying there. Jungkook was lying there in the hall, with people whose faces were pale as dead passing by. I just couldn’t come in. I couldn’t confirm. And so I stood up, legs wobbling. As I came back out, my tears fell. Funny. I didn’t remember what was the last time I cried.

I turned around at someone grabbing my arm when I was about to cross the road. Who was it? No, it didn’t matter. Anyone was the same. Don’t come near me. Go. Please just leave me alone. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to get hurt. So please, just don’t come near me.

Yoongi 19 September YEAR 16

The flames blazed with a scarlet red. Until this morning, the house I lived in was devoured by the fire. People who recognized me approached me and shouted something. Neighbors scurried over. They said the fire truck couldn’t enter because they couldn’t secure an entrance. I stood still.

It was at the end of the summer, autumn was starting. The sky was blue and the air was dry. I didn’t know anything, not what I was supposed to think, not what I was supposed to feel, not what I was supposed to do. And then I thought “Oh, mom.” The next moment, the house collapsed with a thud. The house that had been devoured by the fire, no, now it had become the fire itself, along with the roof, the pillars, the walls, the room I lived in, they collapsed down like a sand castle. I watched them absent-mindedly.

Someone pushed me aside. The said the fire truck came. Someone else grabbed me and asked. They looked me in the eyes and shouted something, but I heard nothing.

“Who’s inside?” I blankly looked at them. “Is your mom inside?” They grabbed my shoulder and shook. Unknowingly, I answered. “No. No one’s inside.” “What are you talking about?” The auntie next door said. “What about your mom? Where’s your mom?” “There’s no one there.” I had no idea what I was saying. Someone pushed and walked past me.

Yoongi 12 June YEAR 19 (Y)

I skipped school and went out, but the truth is I had nowhere to go. It was hot, I had no money, nothing to do. It was Namjoon who suggested going to the sea. The kids seemed excited but I didn’t really feel like going, nor did I hate going. “Do you have any money?” At my words, Namjoon made everyone empty their pockets. Some coins and a few notes. “Then we can’t go”. It was probably Taehyung who said “We could walk”. Namjoon made a face like he’s telling him to think about it and everyone chattered away, laughing and pretending to roll around on the road while walking. I wasn’t in the mood to respond so I just lagged behind. The sun was scorching. It was the middle of the day, not even the trees on the sides could cast any shade and on the road with no sidewalk, cars were passing, leaving clouds of dust behind.

“Let’s go there”. This time, it was Taehyung too. Or was it Hoseok? I wasn’t interested so I didn’t take a good look, but it was one of those two. I had my head lowered, strolling while kicking at the ground, but lifted my head up as I bumped into someone and nearly fell. Jimin was standing nailed to the spot. His face was shaking like he saw something very scary. “Are you okay?” I asked but it seemed like he couldn’t hear me. Where Jimin was staring at stood a “flower arboretum” sign.

“I don’t want to walk.” I heard Jungkook. Sweat was dripping down Jimin’s face. His face was pale like he was about to drop down. What was that? I felt weird. “Park Jimin.” I asked but he didn’t react. I looked up at the sign again.

“It’s so hot. Why would we go to an arboretum? Let’s go to the sea.” I said dully. I didn’t know what kind of place that flower arboretum was, but it felt like we must not go there. I didn’t know why but Jimin looked strange. “We have no money.” Hoseok answered me. “Then let’s walk.” Taehyung added in. “If we just walk to the train station, we’ll make it some way or another.” Namjoon spoke up. “Then we’ll have to skip dinner instead.” Jungkook and Taehyung whined and Seokjin-hyung laughed. After everyone began to head towards the train station, Jimin started moving again. He looked like a small kid walking with his head lowered, shoulders hunching. I looked up at the sign again. Flower arboretum, the five letters were slowing getting further and further away.

Namjoon 13 July YEAR 22

I rested my head against the window. From the library to the gas station, the same commute everyday. Outside the windows passed the sickeningly familiar landscapes. Will I ever escape these landscapes? I felt that it was impossible to predict what would come tomorrow, what I could hope for.

A girl sat few seats in front of me, hair tied back with a yellow rubber band. She raised her shoulders up as if heaving a sigh and sat down. And then she rested her head against the window. We have been studying at the same library and taking the bus at the same station for more than a month. We never talked but we saw the same landscapes, lived the same time and heaved the same sigh. The hair tie was still in the pocket of my pants.

The girl always got off three stops ahead of me. Every time I saw her getting off, I wondered if she would go to to hand out the flyers again. What did she have to go through? What did she have to endure? How much of the hopelessness that is tomorrow would never come, that is there was already no such thing as tomorrow from the start did she feel? I thought.

The girl’s stop was approaching. Someone pressed the stop button and shortly after, passengers stood up from their seats. But the girl wasn’t among them. She stood still in her seat with head resting against the window. Seems like she was sleeping. Should I go and wake her up? I debated for a moment. The bus reached the stop. The girl still remained the same. People got off. The door closed and the bus left.

The girl didn’t wake up once while the bus passed three stops. As I walked to the door, I debated with myself once again. Obviously if I get off, no one would pay attention to the girl. By the time she wakes up, the bus would be far away from where she was supposed to get off. Who knows how more tiring her day would get because of it.

I got off the bus and started walking to the gas station. The bus soon departed and I didn’t look back. I left the hair tie on her bag but that was it. It wasn’t the start nor was it the end. There was nothing from the beginning so there was no reason for anything to happen. So it was nothing at all, I thought.

Namjoon 17 December YEAR 21

People waiting for the first bus rubbed their hands together at the cold wind. I clutched the straps of my bag tightly and looked down to the ground. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone. A country village only two buses stops at a day. The first was approaching from afar.

I followed after people and got on the bus. I didn’t look back. When we’re desperate for something, when we has grabbed hold of it and now the only thing left to do is escaping, there’s one condition. To not look back. The moment we look back, all our efforts will go up in smoke. Looking back is doubting, is lingering attachment and fear. Only after we’re over it can we truly escape.

The bus departed. I had no plan. I wasn’t desperate for anything, not did I grab hold of it and was escaping. It was more like an impromptu getaway. A getaway from my mother’s tired face, my sibling who’s feeling lost, my father’s illness. A getaway from my household situation that’s getting more stressful over time, from my family who insist on sacrifice and peace, from myself who pretended like I knew nothing and resigned, striving to adapt myself, and most of all, from poverty.

If you ask if poverty is a crime, anyone would say it’s not. But is it really not? Poverty eats away so many things. It makes what we used to treasure become nothing. It makes us give up what we could not. It makes us doubt, fear and resign.

Just few hours later, this bus will stop at a familiar stop. One year ago, I didn’t leave any goodbye when I left this place. And now I’m coming back there without any omen or notice. My friends’ faces came up in my mind. I cut contact with all of them. How have they been doing? Will they welcome me? Will we be able to gather and laugh like we used to? Outside, the landscape was rendered invisible by the frosty windows. I slowly moved my fingers above it.

“You must live on.”

Namjoon 22 May YEAR 22 (U)

“We’re just one year apart. No, someone said so. I’m older than him. I know. But he’s not a kid anymore. I’m just saying it’s time for him to do by himself. I got it. I said I got it. No, I’m not angry. Sorry.”

I ended the call and looked down to the ground. The warm sea breeze was sweeping through the pine forest. I felt so suffocated inside, like my heart would explode any second. On the ground mixed with half sand and half ground, the ants were lining up to go somewhere. If someone who’s greater than me in any aspect, physically or symbolically, look, would they see where I am going, know why I am going and how I will end up?

It’s not like I don’t love my parents, nor am I not worried for my sibling. If I can I want to look away, but I’m just me, so clearly that won’t happen. If it happens, what would all these struggles, anger, frustration and this desire to escape mean?

Some distance away, I saw someone from the back, standing nailed to the spot just like I was. It was Jungkook. Jungkook once told me this. “I want to become an adult like you.” I could tell him then. Tell him that I’m not a good adult like he thought, that no, I’m not even an adult. I felt like it would be too cruel to tell him so. I couldn’t tell a young kid couldn’t get the faith, the care and love he deserved that growing older, growing taller and living longer doesn’t make you an adult. I hoped for Jungkook’s future to be kinder to him than mine did, but I couldn’t promise that I would be there to help him. I approached and draped an arm around his shoulder. Jungkook looked up at me.

Hoseok 4 July YEAR 22

I went out to the hallway while waiting for first aid. The hospital hallway was crowded with people walking around even at this time of the night. Water was dripping down from my hair drenched by the rain and sweat. As I shook my hair, her bag fell down. All kinds of miscellaneous stuff spilled out. Coins were rolling, ball pens and towels everywhere. Among them, there was an airplane E-ticket. I picked it up and briefly looked through it.

Then, the doctor called me. It was just a mild concussion, there was nothing big to worry about, the doctor said. A moment later, she came out. “Are you okay?” She said she had a little headache and was about to take her bag back from me. Then she saw the E-ticket sticking out and looked at me. I shifted the bag to the other shoulder, pretending like nothing happened and rushed her to go. When we got to the entrance, it was raining. We stood side by side in front of the door.

“Hoseok-ah”. She called. She looked like she had something to say. “Wait a moment. I’ll go buy an umbrella.” I mindlessly ran in the rain. There was a convenience store not far away. I knew she auditioned for a dance team overseas not long ago. Seeing she already got the airplane ticket, seems like she passed. I didn’t want to hear what she said. I didn’t have the confidence to congratulate her.

Hoseok 23 July YEAR 10

It was after counting to four that I heard the laughing sound like an auditory hallucination. The next moment, a younger version of me passed by, holding someone’s hand. I quickly turned around to look but there were only my classmates staring at me. “Hoseok-ah.” The teacher called my name. And then I realized where I was. I was in class, in the middle of counting the fruits in the textbook. Five, six. I went back to counting but the higher it went, the more my voice shook and my hands started sweating. That memory of mine kept rising up.

I don’t remember my mom’s face from that day. I only remember she gave me a chocolate bar while I was at the amusement park. “Hoseok-ah. Count to ten and open your eyes.” I counted and when I opened my eyes, mom was no longer there. I waited and waited but she never came back. Counting to eight was the last. I only needed to count one more but my voice just wouldn’t come out. My ears rang and my surrounding became blurred. The teacher gestured me to continue. Friends stared at me. I couldn’t remember my mom’s face. It felt like if I count just one more time, she would never go look for me.

I collapsed on the floor.

Hoseok 20 May YEAR 22 (O)

I took Taehyung out of the police station with me. “Thank you for your hard work.” I bowed and shouted loudly, but I didn’t feel so. Taehyung’s house was not far from the police station. If he had lived somewhere far away, would he not need to go in and out of the police station this often? Why did Taehyung’s parents choose a place this close to the police station?  The world was so unfair to this kind, soft-hearted kid. I draped an arm around Taehyung’s shoulder, pretended like nothing happened and asked, “Are you hungry?” Taehyung shook his head. “Did the policemen buy you food?” I asked again but Taehyung gave no answer.

We walked in the sun. Cold winds were blowing inside my heart. If this is how I’m feeling, what about Taehyung? How torn and broken must he have felt? Was there even any piece of his heart left? How much pain there was inside him? I couldn’t look at him in the face with those thoughts in mind, so I looked up to the sky instead. An airplane was flying past the dim sunlight. The first time I saw the wounds on Taehyung’s back, it was when we met at Namjoon’s container hideout. Seeing Taehyung laugh so innocently over getting a T-shirt, no one could say anything, but inside a piece of our hearts was broken.

I didn’t have any parent. I had no memory of my dad and memories of my mom were only until I was 7 years old. When it came to wounds about family and childhood, I was never jealous with anyone. People say we must overcome wounds, we must embrace and grow used to them. We must reconcile and forgive in order to live. I couldn’t, not because I didn’t know nor I hated and refused to. Some things just can’t be accomplished through efforts. No one taught us the way. The world gave us new wounds before its knives grew blunt. I know there’s no one without wounds in this world. But why must the wounds be this deep? For what reason do we need them? Why must this happen?

“Hyung, I’m okay. I can go by myself.” Taehyung told me at the crossroad. “I know, kid.” I paid no attention to his words and led the way. “I’m really okay. Look. It’s nothing.” Taehyung smiled. I didn’t answer him. There was no way he was okay. He was far from okay, but if i admit this fact I wouldn’t be able to bear it. I was avoiding it. It had become a habit of mine. Taehyung pull up the hood of his hoodie and started following me. “You’re really not hungry?” I asked Taehyung at the hallway to his house. Taehyung just smiled foolishly and nodded. I watched him walking away from the back and turned around. The hallway he walked on and the path I took on the way back were desolate. The kid and I, we were both alone. I was about to look back when suddenly, my phone rang.

Jimin 4 July YEAR 22

When my senses returned, I was already washing my arm so hard that my skin was threatening to come off. My hands were shaking, breathe coming up and down. Blood was streaming down my arm. In the mirror, I saw my bloodshot eyes. Fragments of what happened earlier came back to me.

Suddenly, I lost focus. I was dancing together with a noona from the dance club when our moves got tangled and we bumped into each other. I tumbled down the rough floor and my arm started bleeding. That moment, I thought back of what happened at the flower arboretum. I thought I was over it but I wasn’t. I had to run away. I had to wash. I had to turn away. The me in the mirror was still that same 8-year-old kid stomping in the rain to run away. And then suddenly I remember. She also fell down with me.

No one was in the practice room. Past the slightly opened door, the rain was beating hard. I saw Hoseokie-hyung running not far away. He was soaked in the rain. I took the umbrella and dashed out. I ran. Eventually, I halted.

There was nothing I could do. All I could was to fall down and make her hurt, tremble at my own injury and leave her there only to belatedly run and stop halfway. I turned around and walked. Rain splattered on my sneakers with each step. Cars’ headlights flashed by. I wasn’t okay. No, I was. It didn’t hurt. This wound was nothing. I was really okay.

Jimin 6 April YEAR 11

I went out to the front gate of the flower arboretum alone. The weather was dull and chilly but I was in a good mood. It was picnic day but both mom and dad were busy. I was sullen at first, but after getting complimented at the flower drawing contest and hearing my friends’ moms saying “Jimin’s all grown up”, I felt like I was quite cool.

“Jimin, wait here. I’ll come quick.” The teacher told me after the picnic’s over and we were about to leave the flower arboretum, but I didn’t wait. I was confident I could go by myself. I clutched the straps of my backpack in both hands and walked with slow and stately steps. Sensing everyone staring at me, I straightened up my shoulders more. It was long after the rain had started. All my friends and their moms left, no one was there to look at me and my legs hurt. I covered my head with the backpack and squatted down under the tree. The rain slowly began to pour down harder and there was no one passing by. I eventually started to run in the rain. No house or shop was in sight. I reached the back gate of the flower arboretum. The side door was opened and inside was seemingly a warehouse.

Jimin 19 May YEAR 22 (Y)

At the end, I had to go to the flower arboretum. It’s time to stop lying I didn’t remember what happened there. Time to stop living in hiding at the hospital, stop having a seizure. In order to do so, I needed to go there. And so I searched days for this bus stop. But I couldn’t get on the shuttle bus to the flower arboretum.

Yoongi-hyung plopped down next to me after I had missed the third bus. I asked what he was doing here and he said he was simply bored and had nothing to do. He asked why I was sitting here. I lowered my head and kicked at the ground with the tips of my shoes. I thought about why I was sitting here. It was because I had no courage. I want to pretend that I was okay now, that I knew what I was talking about and I could easily overcome it but the truth is, I was scared. Scared of what I would face, whether or not I would be able to bear it and the chance of me having a seizure again.

Yoongi-hyung looked relaxed. He slumped down like had nothing to rush off for and said the weather’s nice along with some other nonsense stuff. Hearing him,I realized the weather was indeed nice. I was too nervous to look around me. The sky was blue and occasionally there would be a warm breeze blowing. Not far away, the shuttle bus to the flower arboretum was arriving. The bus stopped and the doors were opened. The driver looked at me. On a spur of the moment, I asked him.

“Hyung. Will you come with me?

Taehyung 17 July YEAR 22

My sides felt like they were being torn apart. Sweat was dripping down me. The railway, the vacant lot behind the convenience store, under the overpass, I couldn’t find her anywhere. I even ran to the bus stop but she was nowhere to be seen. People waiting for their buses gave me an odd look. What happened? We didn’t promise to meet but it was weird. She always popped up out of nowhere and followed me around. She wouldn’t give up even if I told her she’s annoying. But everywhere we went together, I couldn’t find her.

I stopped on my tracks in front of a familiar wall. It was a graffiti we drew together, her first ever graffiti. A giant X was drawn on top of it. It was her. I didn’t see it in person but I knew it. Why? I had no answer for that. Instead, the afterimages stacked up above the wall.

Her smile flashing at me when I knocked my head while lying on the railway. Her hands helping me up when I fell while helping her run away. Her face burning with anger when I stole the bread. Her gloomy look when we passed the photo studio where a family portrait was hung at the front. Her gaze unconsciously following the passing students. I told her when we were spraying on this wall together. “If you have any trouble, don’t suffer alone, tell me.” The X symbol was drawn on top of all those memories, like it was saying everything was fake. Like it was saying they were all a lie. I unknowingly clenched my fists. Why? I had no answer. I turned around and walked. Both I and she, were were once again alone.

Taehyung 20 March YEAR 20

I ran on the hallway and slid to a stop. Namjoonie-hyung was standing in front of ‘our classroom’. Our classroom. No one knew this but I called the place ‘our classroom’. The classroom of me, the hyungs and Jungkook, of the seven of us. I held my breath and came closer. I wanted to surprise him.

“Headmaster!” After five steps, I heard an urgent voice past the slightly opened classroom’s window. It sounded like Seokjin-hyung. I stop on my tracks. Is Seokjin-hyung talking to the headmaster? At our classroom? Why? I heard my and Yoongi-hyung’s names and Namjoon-hyung gasped like he was surprised. Seokjin-hyung jerked the door open, having seemingly sensed that sound. He was holding a phone in his hand. He looked evidently surprised and taken aback. I couldn’t see Namjoon-hyung’s face. I hid and watched them. Seokjin-hyung opened his mouth as if to explain himself but Namjoon-hyung raised a hand and said. “It’s okay.” Seokjin-hyung looked confused. “There must be a reason why you did that.” He said and passed by Seokjin-hyung to come into the classroom. I couldn’t believe in my ears. Seokjin-hyung told the headmaster what Yoongi-hyung and I did the past few days. He told everything, how we skipped school, jumped over the fences and fought with the kids. But Namjoon-hyung said it was okay.

“What are you doing here?” I turned around out of surprise, it was Hoseok-hyung and Jimin. Hoseok-hyung pretended he was even more surprised and draped an arm over my shoulder. Before I knew it, he was already dragging me into the classroom. Namjoon-hyung and Seokjin-hyung turned around as they were talking. Seokjin-hyung hurriedly stood up, said he had urgent business and left. I studied Namjoon-hyung’s face. He watched Seokjin-hyung leaving from the back and smiled at everyone like nothing happened. That moment, this thought hit me. There must be a reason why Namjoon-hyung acted like that. He knew much more than me, much smarter and more mature than me. And after all, this was our classroom. I entered the classroom flashing a smile, the smile that everyone teased me calling it a rectangle smile. I decided I would never tell anyone that I overheard that conversation.

Taehyung 20 May YEAR 22 (O)

I looked down to my hands. They were smudged with blood. Suddenly, I lost all strength in my legs. I was about to flop down when someone hugged me from behind. The sun was beaming its weak rays through the window. My sister was crying and Hoseok-hyung was silently standing there without a word. The dirty furniture and blankets were littered around, just like usual. No one was left where my father was standing. I couldn’t recall when he left the room.

The uncontrollable rage and sorrow that was boiling inside me the moment I came at my father still remained the same. I couldn’t tell what held me back when I was about to stab my father. I couldn’t tell how to calm this insanity-bordering mind of mine. I didn’t want to kill my father, I wanted to die. If I could, I would gladly die now. No tears came out. I wanted to cry, to scream, to stomp on and destroy and break everything, to be broken, but I couldn’t do anything.

“Hyung. I’m sorry. I’m okay. Go.” My voice came out dry, a stark contrast to my mind that was bordering insanity. It didn’t sound like my voice. I send off him, who didn’t seem like he was leaving anytime soon, and looked down to my palm. Blood was seeping through the white bandage. Instead of stabbing my father, I hit the floor with the bottle. It shattered and gashed my palm. I closed my eyes and felt the world spinning around. What should I think? What should I do? How should I live? When my senses returned, I was looking down at Namjoon-hyung’s numbers. Even after things came to this, no, as things came to this, I was even more desperate for his presence. I wanted to tell him. Hyung. I almost killed my father, my father who gave birth to me, my father who beat me to a pulp every single day. I really almost killed him. No, the truth is I already did. I killed him thousands of times. I killed him so many times even I couldn’t count. I want to kill him. I want to die. What should I do now? I don’t know anymore. Hyung, I just want to see you.

Jungkook 26 July YEAR 22

I secretly picked some flowers from the hospital’s garden. I lowered my head from the laughter bubbling up my throat. The sun was beaming dazzlingly in a midsummer day. I knocked the door, no answer. I knocked again and pushed the door open. Somehow, the room felt chilly. No one was inside. Only silent darkness resided here.

I turned around and left the room. I rolled my wheelchair down the hallway feeling tired and frustrated, and that’s when I met her. I came to a sudden halt at something showing up and there stood a girl, hair tied into a ponytail. There was a bench somewhere outside the hospital. I remembered sitting on that bench and drawing while listening to music with her. We even shared strawberry milk on the roof. My hands were still clutching the wild flowers but I had no one to give it to anymore.

Jungkook 30 September YEAR 20

“Jeon Jungkook. You’re coming there recently too, aren’t you?” I didn’t answer, just standing there looking at the tips of my sneakers. He hit my head with the roll book for not answering. Still, I made no move to talk, The classroom where I was together with the hyungs. Ever since the day I followed them and discovered that classroom, there was not a single day I didn’t come there. They probably didn’t know this too. Sometimes they didn’t  show up there, busy meeting friends or working part-time. Sometimes I didn’t see Yoongi-hyung or Seokjin-hyung for days. But not for me. I went there every single day. There were days no one else would come. But it was okay. If that place still exists, the hyungs would come today, tomorrow, or the following day, so it was okay.

“Learned only bad things from hanging out with those kids.” One more hit. I glared up at him. Another hit. I thought of when Yoongi-hyung was hit. I clenched my teeth and endured. I didn’t want to lie that I didn’t come to the classroom.

I once again stood in front of that classroom. It felt like if I open the door, the hyungs would be there. They would be playing games and turn around to ask me why I was so late. Seokjin-hyung and Namjoon-hyung would read books, Taehyungie-hyung would play games, Yoongi-hyung would play the piano and Hoseok-hyung and Jimin-hyung would be dancing.

But when I opened the door, there was only Hoseok-hyung. He was packing our stuff left in the classroom. I just stood there grabbing the doorknob. He approached and draped an arm over my shoulder. Then he pulled me outside. “Let’s go now.” The classroom door closed behind me. And then I realized. Those days are gone and would never come back.

Jungkook 2 May YEAR 22 (U)

I looked up only to see myself standing in front of Namjoon-hyung’s container. I opened the door and entered. I gathered the scattering clothes, draped around myself and curled up. It was chilly. My whole body was shaking and I felt like crying, but no tear came out.

When I opened the door and came in, Yoongi-hyung was standing on the bed. Flames were bursting from the bed sheet. That moment, an uncontrollable rage and sense of fear coiled around me, I wasn’t good with words. I wasn’t good with expressing my emotions to persuade someone either. Tears welled up and I coughed and the words just kept getting stuck in my throat unable to come out. The only thing I could utter as I flung myself into the fire was ‘We all promised to go to the sea together.’

“What happened? Did you have a nightmare?” I opened my eyes at someone shaking my shoulders. It was Namjoon-hyung. Somehow I felt safe. He felt my forehead and said I had a fever. Maybe I really did. My mouth felt like it was on fire but my body felt uncontrollably cold. My head was throbbing and my throat hurt. I took the pills he bought me. “Sleep. Let’s talk later.” I nodded, and said. “Can I ever become an adult like you?” Namjoon-hyung turned and looked at me.

[mercerislandbooks]

(Re)Discover Dorothy Dunnett

Since working at Island Books I’ve often recommended Dorothy Dunnett and The Game of Kings to people looking for high quality historical fiction, so I was excited to find out that the whole series is being reissued this month. We have a special treat for our customers, a complete set to raffle! Some lucky person will get to experience the whole series, courtesy of Island Books and Penguin Random House (details below).

Nothing was better in college than opening up my little PO box to find a card saying “You have a package!” I went to college in Massachusetts so often my mom sent care packages filled with treats to share with my hall mates. Sometime in the fall of my first year she included a book in the box. The Game of Kings, by Dorothy Dunnett, volume one of the Lymond Chronicles.

My limited time for leisure reading and my small collection of books that weren’t for class made a new addition welcome, something to look forward to cracking open. The cover was promising, the back jacket synopsis led me to believe that I’d be reading historical fiction set in Scotland with complex political and familial dynamics. I’d devoured all of Sharon Kay Penman’s historical fiction in high school, so this looked right up my alley.

It’s hard to describe my first encounter with Dorothy Dunnett and Francis Crawford. A beloved Scottish writer of the sixties and seventies, Dunnett’s prose is dense, studded with vocabulary I didn’t know and couldn’t guess from context. Her storytelling was not straightforward. It was clear Dunnett knew what she was doing, masterfully so, and I was lost. I could tell there were layers upon layers, nuance and misdirection that I simply wasn’t picking up on. Her characters quote songs and poetry in foreign languages and on the story went, with no translation, no notes at the back. Those of us who didn’t know innumerable other languages were left to gamely try to keep up and hope it wasn’t pivotal. 

And then there was Francis Crawford of Lymond, prodigal son, though more of a unrepentant black sheep, undeniably clever and totally unlikeable. This might have been my first encounter in a novel I was reading for pleasure with an anti-hero. I was not a fan. I didn’t understand why everyone was drawn to him. He seemed relentlessly cruel with his family and followers, appeared to delight in flouting all conventionality, and was annoyingly good at everything he did. I didn’t find his described physical attractiveness making up for all of his flaws. I liked Will, his young idealistic protégé. I wanted him to be the hero of the story. Will was very obviously good, despite casting his lot in with Lymond. I liked Christine Stewart, a pragmatic young blind woman with a taste for light intrigue. I liked Lymond's complex mother, Sybilla, who seemed take the antics of all her children in stride. Yet, by the end, I had to admit that under all the things I didn’t like about him, Lymond worked toward the greater good, and was just as emotionally devastated as I was by a shocking plot twist. It softened me, but only the tiniest bit, towards him.

You’d think, given this experience, I would have had it with Dorothy Dunnett, Francis Crawford of Lymond and the whole thing. But I knew there were more books in the series, I had many long plane flights in my future, and a nagging to find out what happened next. There were characters I did care about, like Will, and wanted to know what happened to them. I could live with Lymond, and the untranslated foreign languages and the incomprehensible politics as long as I could be taken away for hours on end when sitting in a cramped plane seat. Onto Queen’s Play and the treacherous French court I went. 

Along the way through the six books of the Lymond Chronicles and four years of college something happened. I started to like Lymond. Don’t get me wrong, the further along I got in the books, the more convoluted the plot and the characters, to the point where they could give any soap opera a run for their money. I still felt like I was missing about fifty percent of all the nuance. I didn’t care anymore; I was entranced. As more of Lymond’s history was revealed, the more unguarded moments he had, the more I saw him as a tragic figure, rather than a villain, ruthlessly doing the right thing for everyone else at the expense of his own character and happiness. By the end I hoped against hope that Lymond might have a happy ending, idealist that I am. It didn’t seem like he would, too much was stacked against him. Still I hoped. 

This first experience of the Lymond Chronicles was far from my last. I am, as I have mentioned before, an unapologetic rereader. The first time through I am racing to find out what happens plot-wise. Once I know how it all ends, I enjoy reading again for character, for language, for the hints and foreshadowing that are so deliberately crafted. I’ve reread the Lymond Chronicles multiple times over the years. I fall back under Dunnett’s spell, her narrative pulling me along to the next volume and the next. Each time I see a little more of her intricate plotting and character building. By maybe my third reading of The Game of Kings, I started making a list of the words (in English) that I didn’t know and looking them up. Page one began with douce, an adjective of Scottish origin, appropriately enough, meaning sober, sedate, and gentle. Three paragraphs later I added oriflamme. I was just on page one.  A two part Dorothy Dunnett Companion details all those pesky untranslated foreign passages as well as more of the historical figures and events she covers. I bought it, yet I never got around to reading it side by side, always being so quickly absorbed into the world. Perhaps for my next rereading.

To enter the raffle for the complete set of the Lymond Chronicles, email Island Books at info@mercerislandbooks.com with the subject as DUNNETT RAFFLE. One entry per person. We will accept entries up until end of day, Wednesday, May 22nd, and then contact the winner via email. Best of luck to all of you!

-Lori

[ayyraeraedraws]

ANS Week Day 4 - AETHER

(I know it’s a free day, but this accidentally fit the theme)

@maybe-in-another-lifetime 

She wasn’t supposed to be in the library this late at night. Doors that were locked with riddles that would curse you with boils if you answered incorrectly were probably meant to be a deterrent. They were also probably meant to be too difficult to answer.

Yet, here she was, browsing the forbidden section of the library during the witching hour of the night.

This section was also enchanted to stay locked, but its punishment for trespassing was much steeper than a couple hours of blemishes. If someone without permission so much as touched the lock to inspect it, they would turn to stone. Library staff, of course, would find them eventually and reverse the curse, but the trespasser would have some serious explaining to do.

The thing about the magical elite with their pureblood and white clothes, was that they never remember to counteract practical theivory. A certain soul-bound, fire demon of hers was very good at sneaking off with little trinkets like buttons, hair bobbles, and the occasional key to the forbidden section of the library.

A small green flame that gave off no heat followed her through the shelves, illuminating the spins of ancient texts. Some of the titles were in different languages, some would translate themselves revealing a book about illegal charms or extinct magical creatures. Some looked like letters she could read, but they squirmed around like they didn't want to be read.

She wasn’t looking for any book in particular, that was the fun of it though. When she came to Wistal and saw the gigantic library, the tower covered floor to ceiling with books, she knew right away, she wanted to read them all. But this forbidden section had been a real kink in her plan. Only those with special permission could enter and she, as an apprentice herbalist witch, didn't have much of a case for entry.

She l picked out a book at random that seemed to be about mushrooms. She took a seat on the floor, her flame sat on the top of the page she opened to, and she read about the theorized mushroom age of the prehistoric world.

Hours passed and she’d gotten to a very interesting bit about the proper growing conditions for different mushrooms and their medicinal uses when she heard a low growl.

She froze and listened for it again. A deep, guttural clicking sound turned her stomach. It was close. She pressed herself against the bookcase hoping that whatever it was wouldn’t notice her presence.

She heard a foot step.

And then another.

It was right behind her.

She turned her head slowly to peer through the shelf to the other side. She couldn’t see much through the small cracks between books then a shadow passed. It was gigantic and moved quickly.

Shirayuki cover her mouth to keep herself from crying out. A beast was loose with her in the library. She thought she’d been so thorough with her infiltration plan, yet she missed the part about the librarian guard monster.

She could hear its growl and its footsteps nearing the entrance of shelves she was between. Whatever it was, was about to turn the corner and see her. There was nowhere to hide, she’d have to make a break for it. Carefully, she set aside her book and began to stand. She tightened the muscles in her legs, ready to run. The silhouette of the beast towered over her and filled the space between the shelves.

A jolt through was sent her body. She jumped back and nearly tripped over herself running away.

A claw wrapped around her wrist and halted her escape. In a panic l, she whirled on the beast and slapped it’s claw.

The creature muttered a low, “Ow,” and released her hand. Shirayuki ran a few feet, then stopped. The beast’s tone surprised her out of her terror long enough to realize that the beast’s grasp had actually been gentle. She turned back to see the beast pitfully rub its own wrist where she had struck it.

Sensing her curiosity, her green light,  that had been sitting at her discarded mushroom book suddenly moved between them and illuminated both their faces.

Before Shirayuki stood a nearly eight foot tall, inky black lion. It had four iridescent white eyes that reflected the flame’s glow, two horns protruded from its mane, twisting around themselves poking directly up and, most notably, this lion stood on two legs and wore a fancy shirt, vest, pants, and shoes.

“You startled me.” Its mouth didn’t move as it spoke.

“I startled you?” Shirayuki shouted at it.

The beast stared at Shirayuki, sending a chill up her spine. “The library is closed,” it said.

“What?” Shirayuki sputtered, still reeling at the fact that she hadn’t already been sliced to ribbons.

“The library is closed,” it repeated, “no one is supposed to be here.”

Shirayuki stared at the beast for a long time, “Are you a librarian or something?”

She’d never seen this beast, or anything like it, during her many hours in the library previously.

The beast noticed the mushroom book on the floor and picked it up. It moved to place the book back in its place on the shelf, then paused and handed it to Shirayuki instead.  

“That is the position I find myself in.”

Shirayuki slowly accepted the book, keeping an eye on the sharp claws at the end of the beast’s fingers the entire time.

“You especially aren’t allowed to be in this section, are you.”

It wasn’t a question. She hugged the book tight to her chest and held her chin up. “I disagree with that rule,” she bowed her head, “Though, I’m sorry if I caused you trouble.”

The beast’s hand was suddenly on her head, the pads on its palms ruffled her hair gently. “I disagree with that rule as well.”

The beast removed its hand from her head and she looked up, surprised. The beast wasn’t looking at her, instead it stared pensively at a row of books too far above her head to see.

“This ‘forbidden’ section is left over from the Sorcerer King before the last Sorcerer King. Nothing here is worth keeping hidden. Though, it makes the white cloths feel important.”  It looked at Shirayuki and smiled with its eyes. “Take whatever you like. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

It winked.

The demonic lion of nightmares used one of its four eyes to wink at her.

It took her a moment to gather her wits before she finally responded, “This is fine for now.” She lifted her mushroom book up and hugged it to her chest.

“I’ll see you out, then.” The beast slid past her with surprising elegance and continued toward the gated entrance. Shirayuki followed.

As they walked through the main hall of the library, dark except for her light, Shirayuki searched for any other library personnel.

“Do you work the night shift alone?” she asked.

“I’m supposed to be the only one here at night,” the beast said looking at her pointedly from over its shoulder.

“I wish the library was always open. I have trouble sleeping sometimes; reading helps me relax.”

“I also read when I can’t sleep.”

“Do you sleep during the day then?”

“I don’t sleep.”

“Oh.” Their footsteps echoed through the empty chamber. “You must read a lot then.”

“It passes the time, but I’d prefer if I could experience the things I read about for myself.”

“Why don’t you?”

The beast stopped walking and looked back at her. “There are strange beasts out there, but none as strange as me.” The beast sighed then turned and continued its walk.

Shirayuki wanted to deny that, but she couldn’t. The beast was kind and gentle, but the sight of it filled her with dread, a small part of her was happy to be leaving. They approached the doors and the beast whispered something to it to make it click open.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

The beast froze facing the cracked open door. It didn't move for a long moment and Shirayuki began to worry she’d said some magic words by mistake.

It finally spoke. “When you’re ready to exchange that book, come back and ask me again.” It turned and looked at her with its smiling eyes again.

“Alright,” she said. The beast stood at the door, staring at her, she began to feel awkward, “What can-“

“I need back the key your demon stole,” it said.

“Oh, of course.” Shirayuki fished around for it in the pockets of her jacket and pulled it out. “Here.”

The beast took it between two claws, Shirayuki suppressed a shiver when the nails brushed her palm and mustered a smile instead. It couldn’t help that it was a beast, after all.

The beast pulled the door open for her and quickly taught her a pattern to knock for next time she visited.

They bid each other a goodnight and parted ways.

“Done!”

Shirayuki felt the weight of a day’s work come to an end like the closing of a book. She folded up the piece of parchment with her daily report scrawled on it, held it out on her palm, and blew on it. The folded paper floated up and flapped its sides excitedly like wings and flew out the door of her workspace to find Chief Garack’s desk. Shirayuki then waved her hand over her table. The books closed themselves and flew to shelves. The paper organized and stacked themselves into a folder and the folder tucked itself into her bag. A couple of samples in wicker containers followed in after it. The table was cleared in moments and Shirayuki slung her bag over her shoulder.

“Good, you’re still here.”

Shirayuki turned to see Chief Garack at the door holding her unfolded report.

“Is something wrong with my report?” she asked. She was still new to this job and she wanted to prove that she could do it. To herself more than anyone.

“No, everything looks fine here. You did a good job today-” Suddenly the book case shuddered and spat out a thick leather bound book from its shelves. Shirayuki recognized it as her mushroom book from the forbidden section of the library. Garack picked it up and looked at the front and back.

“That’s mine, Chief, from the library. I must have accidentally mixed it with my research materials.

“Huh. I think I’ve read this one before.” She handed it back to Shirayuki.

“Y-you have?” Shirayuki asked, her heart pounding. Hopefully the chief didn't remember what section it came from nor that an apprentice probably shouldn’t have it. “It wasn’t the most exciting read, you should try ‘A Complete Guide to Incomplete Toadstools,’ that one was a laugh. You can pick it up tonight.”

“Tonight?” Shirayuki squeaked.

“Yes, it’s rather late now, you’d better hurry before they close.” Garack beamed at her and turned to leave the room. “Oh! The reason I stopped you: you have someone waiting for you in the bunk room.”

Not recognizing Garack’s teasing tone, Shirayuki snapped to attention. “Of course, I’ll see them right away.”

Shirayuki hurried down the hall to the bunk room where she slid open the door.

Zen was fast asleep on one of the beds.

She looked him over as she approached, searching for any obvious injuries, but he appeared to just be sleeping peacefully. She knelt in front of him and called his name. He stirred.

“Shirayuki,” he muttered, “You can’t tell anyone.”

“What?”

His eyes were closed still, his words barely discernible, but she could have sworn he said…

“Don’t tell anyone what, Zen?”

Zen’s eyes fluttered open softly. He smiled at her in the orange glow of sunset, then his eyes darted to the window. He sat up. “I fell asleep,” he said in a huff of panic, “I’ve been asleep for hours.”

“You must have needed it,” she laughed. Zen often scolded her for overworking herself only to turn around and overwork himself. It was always a bit of a relief whenever she caught him napping. “Did you not get a lot of sleep last night?”

“Not really,” he said not quite looking at her.

“Were you up watching the stars?” Zen was a celestial wizard, she knew, but she’d never seen him work at night. His magic was powerful, even during the day, it was hard for her to imagine how much more potent it could be at night.

“Not last night,” he said, “I was just… restless. How was your sleep?”

“I slept fine,” she lied. Her secret trip to the library had stolen half her sleep.

“That’s good,” he said, “I know you're new to the dorms, I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“Don’t worry, the dorms here are lovely, I feel right at home,” Shirayuki answered with a sincere smile because it was true. She wondered if he came to visit just to ask her how she slept and tried to ignore how that made her heart pound.

Zen stood up from the bed and Shirayuki followed suit then noticed he was looking at something down and to the right of her. She looked and saw the book in her hand, he must not have seen it on her lap when she was sitting on the bed with him.

“Just some light reading,” she joked, hefting the thick book up for him to see. “The chief suggested I check out a different title, though.”

“Did she? The library closes soon, do you think you’ll make it?”

Shirayuki traced her thumbs down the cover of the book from where she held it. “Maybe.”

Zen nodded then looked to the window again, the sun was close to the horizon now. “I wish I hadn’t slept so long, I wanted to talk to you.”

“We can go for a walk now, the sunsets here are beautiful.”

“They are,” Zen laughed then sadness crossed his face, “but I have to go.”

Shirayuki was surprised by how disappointed she felt hearing that. “Thank you for checking on me,” she said.

“Of course,” he said, “I’ll see you later.”

Ten Years Ago...

It was the day of King Kain’s funeral. All of the Kingdom was solemn and still. Yet, while the royal family was preparing for the public procession, Garack received an emergency summons.

She followed the messenger who lead her back to a chaotic scene.

Three guards held a door closed as something on the other side slammed against it again and again. On the floor, propped up against the wall, sat the Crown Prince of Clarines. Garack’s eyes went directly to the streak of red across his shoulder and chest and she dropped her bag of supplies next to him and began to open his shirts. Izana’s eyes were trained on the door, his breathing calculated, though he hissed with pain when Garack’s spell began to clean his wound.

“What is happening?” she demanded not taking her eyes off her work. She heard a veracious roar from behind the door and the slamming stopped, only to be immediately followed by the sound of tearing cloth and furniture being upended.

“It’s Zen,” he huffed, “He turned. I not sure what happened, but it’s Zen.”

“What are you talking about?” Garack said sternly as she wrapped a bandage around Izana.

The noise behind the doors stopped again.

The silence hung thick in the air.

Izana’s brow creased, his jaw tight. “Prince Zen?” he called, his look serious.

Still silence.

Garack looked between the door and Izana. “He’s in there with it!?” she began to stand, but Izana grabbed her wrist and pulled her close.

“It is Zen.”

She pulled free from his grasp, their eyes fixed on each other.

Cautiously, the guards that had been holding the doors, took a step back and watched in case the pounding began again. Perhaps they were planning to go inside and face the beast, but Garack beat them to it. She pushed past them and pulled the doors open. The guards grabbed at her, but she shook them off.

And there he was. A scrawny nine year old boy lying unconscious in the center of the destroyed sitting room. His clothes were in tatters, his small chest heaved for breath. Garack scanned the room for any other living thing and when it came up empty, she ran to the boy’s side and inspected the lacerations on his arms.

“He turned.”

She made quick work of bandaging them, sending her magic through her finger tips to quicken the healing process. Then she lifted the boy’s head and shoulders in her arms and began probing his magic. She felt it like a steady heart beat, but there was something darker and more sinister too. A seal of dark magic was affixed to his core.

A curse.

With horror, she recognized the workmanship.

Zen’s eyes suddenly fluttered and he began to move his arms in front of him like he was dreaming.  “Prince Zen, can you hear me?” she asked in as calm a voice she could muster.

His eyes flew open and he immediately began panicking. Garack held him tightly while he thrashed and screamed. All she could do was repeat over and over, “It’s okay, Zen. You’re safe, it’s okay.” She caught his eyes eventually and he stopped fighting.

“Do you remember what happened?” she asked once his heart rate came down to a normal level.

“It is Zen.”

Tears were in his eyes as he shook his head.

Garack sighed then quickly smiled and ruffled his hair.

A couple guards came to carry him to his room. Garack made a promise to come see him soon and hurried out the doors before them. She saw Izana outside, on his feet, waiting. She grabbed his good arm and dragged him down the hall.

“You need to leave, now,” she said pointedly, “And we need to speak in private.”

They made their way to Izana’s study and locked the door behind them.

“You know what this is, don’t you?” Garack slammed her hand down on Izana’s desk where he was already sitting. His head was in his hand, his injured arm draped over the armrest.  

“It wasn’t Zen’s own magic that changed him,” he said.

“No shit, your highness,” she said.

Izana blinked up at her, but she stared him down with two daggers for eyes. “It was Kain’s magic,” he finished, “There’s no denying it.”

“That was a counter curse,” she said then took a breath in order to find her calm, “I’ve only ever read about it. Powerful wizards set a counter curse on themselves, a time bomb that goes off if or when they’re killed.”

“Kain cursed Zen?”

Garack shook her head and leaned across the desk. “He cursed his killer.”

Izana narrowed his eyes at her. She had been the only one he exchanged words with during the assassination of Kain that he carried out only days before. He’d had his mother make arrangements to take Zen to the north with her in order to keep them both out of harm's way.

When she had left she gave Kain a terse bow of the head.  “Farewell husband,” she’d said. Then she turned to Izana and gave him a rare hug, “I’ll see you when we return, my son,” she’d said and the look she gave him when she pulled away from the hug… She knew what he was about to do and she was happy to let him do it.

Zen and Haruto didn’t return to Wistal until they received word of the king’s death. Zen’s transformation happened just as the brother’s saw each other, fatherless, for the first time.

Izana rose from his seat to challenge Garack. “Then why him?” he demanded to know, “Why that thing?”

Garack leaned back on her heal and crossed her arms, “Because the sadistic bastard wanted his killer to see the person they love most turn into a monster and tear them apart.”

Izana tried to keep his face expressionless, but his brow twitched. He sat back into his chair, head in hand and injured arm draped again.

“What do we do?” he finally asked.

“We find a cure,” Garack replied matter of factly.

Izana looked up at her, “You can do that?”

“Yes, but I need time. And you need to stay away from him.” Her words hung in the air. “Seeing you is what triggers the transformation. I'll search day and night for a cure but you need to stay alive until then.”

Izana sat with a shadow over his face.

Garrack sighed, Zen was already so lonely. He just lost his father, though, he hardly knew him and now, thankfully, he’d never get the chance. But to lose his brother too... “I’m going to go see him, do you have anything you want me to say?”

“He was still there, you know,” Izana said distantly.

“Your highness?”

Izana lifted a finger to his eye, “The beast’s eyes. Zen’s magic was there, like starlight. He fought the curse.” He drew his finger across the bandage on his chest, “This-“ he moved his hand up and drew a line across his neck, “-would have been here if he hadn’t clawed at his own arms.”

Garack remembered the lacerations on Zen’s arms and nodded. “I’ll make sure he knows your injury wasn’t his fault.” She put her hand on the lock of the door.

“I thought Kain’s reign was over,” Izana said, his voice cracked, revealing his youth. He’d been through too much for fifteen. “I thought that we were finally free. But even in death…” He stopped to compose himself, swallowing all of his emotions, like a good royal and when he spoke again, he sounded distant and numb. “His reach is as vast and dark as the aether and fighting it feels as pointless as punching air.”

Hopelessness hung around them like a cloud, then Garack’s words cut through it.

“Aether is nothing,” Garrack spat, her words laced with poison. Izana looked to her, stunned. She didn't look back to address him, she just kept her head bowed and her hand gripping the door knob. “Starlight breaks through it every night,” she said, “And every morning the sun sends it running.” She unlocked the door of the study and slammed it behind her.

[wickednerdery]

Title: Scent Author: @wickednerdery​​ Fandom: Tolkien/The Hobbit Pairing/character: Thranduil/Reader Rating: FRM Summary: “Men do not smell as you do...” Notes: This started as a random one-shot called Taste, but now has grown into what’ll likely be a short (smut) series based on the 5 senses, haha! I’ve used Elvish in this, all translations are at the end. It gets a “Read More” cut because it’s NSFW and long (but hopefully worth it), lol!

I stepped out into the chilled morning air, inhaled the scent of dewy grass, and began my run. I ran every day, that would not change with celebration or foreign lands. I did it to keep up with my adopted people and I did it because I enjoyed it. The rush of passing trees, the soft thud of my boots into the mud, the racing of my heart as I pushed myself as hard and fast as my human body allowed.  

I took care in my path, avoided The Halls and did not venture too far from the palace lest I run into the creatures that lived, fed, in the darkest parts of Mirkwood. I had heard horrid stories, I did not wish to become part of one.

As I completed the first half of my circuit my thoughts turned to the night before. The way King Thranduil had examined, played with, me as if I were some new thing to be discovered. Cool hands transversing the peaks and valleys of my body, hot mouth devouring my taste, and skilled tongue delving deep into my cunt. How I felt; how he made me feel…undone.

I forced the thoughts, the pleasure and desire, aside to complete the task at hand.

The music that lulled me to sleep the night prior had picked up tempo once more and gave me the inspiration to carry myself back to the guest quarters. Once in my room I locked the door and began to undo the front lace of my bodice, stripping it off and taking the deeper breath I required.

“You did not return to the festivities.” His voice wafted into my ears from behind. “Amman?”

I found myself in need of another deep breath. “I hadn’t the strength. The journey here was long, I had much wine, and...” I’d been left unable stand with his indulgence of me.


“And?”

He wanted to hear it; for me to say it aloud. I could feel his eyes as hid my blush in the removal of muddied boots. “And you had me.”

There was no sound to his approach, but he soon chuckled in my ear. “Edain are so delicate, the females especially so.” His hand skimmed my waistline, found its place in the downward slope of my stomach. His fingers spread and I felt myself flicker under his touch. “You’re wet.” The Elvenking pulled back my hair, inhaled my scent. “You smell...” his tongue ran along the curvature of my neck, “taste of hot salt.”


“I’m sweaty.”  His deep moan from last night returned to cause the same shudders of my body. “Surely you’ve smelled the sweat of Men before.”


"Men do not smell as you do, Adaneth.”

“I should bathe.”

“Baw!” The snap made me jump before his hand steadied me against his form. “I wish to enjoy.”

“Enjoy?”

As if in answer teeth grazed shoulder, up neck, then caught and pinched flesh. I let my head fall back into his chest with a groan, arched back as he gave suck. I would be marked, of that I was certain.


“Aran nín,” I moaned as the scent of wildflowers recalled the night before.

From his throat came a deep chuckle that fell into a pleased growl. “Aran nín?” He questioned and I cringed, pulled away - that was not the correct thing to say. I was as composed as any Elf, but with him I lost control of my own self. “If that is the case, perhaps you should kneel for me.”

I turned in his grasp, looked down. “Forgive me, your majesty, I misspoke.”

A finger moved to lift my eyes to his. “I am not your king?”


“You are a great king, but you are not my king.”

“I am king of this land.” His lips struck mine, demanding submission. I gave it willingly, allowing his tongue entrance to my mouth. Golden hair curtained and I quickly fell back into the world that was created between us. By the time I had to break for air I was shaking. “You will kneel.” His amusement darkened with the azure of his eyes.

While I was not experienced with men, I was not so naive as to be unaware why Thranduil would want such a thing both as a king and as a man. I lowered my head, followed by my body, and sank before him. While the wildflowers remained, I also smelled the leather of his boots and britches. I looked up to find a commanding look turn confident..something in it gave me a rush, a desire to undo the great Elvenking as he’d undone me.

Slowly, with a tease to it, my hands began at ankles and rose. They crossed the rough and worn terrain of boots, slid over the smooth leather that covered his knees, legs, and thighs. There was a shift of fabric and his mantle poured to the floor. My fingers brushed the tops of his thighs, there was a soft moan, and I allowed one hand to continue inward.

The next moan was as significant as the growth of his cock against my hand. I looked up, saw eyes storming and mouth ajar. The intensity of it caused a wicked smile to cross my lips as I rubbed, pressed in, to massage his arousal. The heat of it came in waves and the smell of musk began to mix with the wildflowers and leather.

“Shall I?” I asked as my second hand moved up under his long tunic. He gave a single nod; I stripped him to the knees, he removed everything above.

Mouth opened, I looked him over. Wisps of blond caught the sun streaming in, making his chest shimmer. His cock jutted forward in arousal, bobbed slightly under its own length and weight. He was every bit his name...Vigorous Spring.

My first touch was tentative, unsure how to proceed or how he may react. There was a twitch, a low groan, from him that gave me confidence. I took him in hand, ran fingers over the top of his length, and watched him shiver. The rush of his reaction, knowing I could make it whenever I stroked him, pooled between my thighs. This was power; he must have loved last night.

Eyes dove into mine and what was once regal turned ravenous. Without looking away my tongue slid out across the tip of his member. It tasted of the ocean. My hands continued to stroke as I did it again, and again, eliciting rumbling groans from the king. I held him in limbo, allowing him only the pleasure I chose to give him...When he attempted to move closer, to thrust past my lips, I pulled back with a faint laugh. As his frustration built, so did my pleasure.

His hand stretched out, brushed across my hair, before grabbing. Head snapped back I grimaced a moment, but did not look away. Not this time, not anymore. Thranduil bent before me, his eyes stormed and voice thundered. “Baw telio!”

I exhaled only once he released me, watched as he straightened with warning eyes. As high as the thrill in teasing was, I did not dare outright disobey the Elvenking. My hands returned to his length, stroked faster, with more pressure, as I took the first inch of cock into my mouth. It swelled, pulsated, as I breathed in the heady scent of Mirkwood’s ruler: leaves after the first rain of Ethuil, ripened fruit, and the musk of something akin to an elk. The blend intoxicated, made my mouth water, as I took in inch after inch.

Only when I risked gagging did I stop, pull back to catch my breath. I continued my mouth’s retreat to suckle at his tip, collect the hot and sticky fluid that weeped, and moaned as the taste hit my tongue. He hissed and pressed forward so that I might devour again. I did. Greedily, with tongue exploring every pulsing vein and hot ridge. What mouth could not take, hands pleasured until Thranduil’s low sounds turned loud.

A hand returned to my hair, gripped once more, but he only encouraged. Pulled me into the soft curls of his groin, pushed into my mouth, as he began to designate the pace. Slow and steady at first, then quickening as gasps turned to grunts. Spit flowed from the sides of my mouth, down my chin, as arousal slickened my cunt and thighs.

With spare hand I explored the smoothness of his body. I let fingernails draw over pale skin, occasionally grip flesh to redness to ensure stability. When my hand found his sack he cursed in pleasure, thrusted so that I gagged. I began to rub, massage, and soon the king seemed to lose the remainder of his controls. The fist in my hair tightened, his pace grew driving as he fucked my mouth. I let him, set the hand once working his length to his hip and held on as his passions took over the both of us.

I gagged hard, nearly tipped back, as his cock shoved its full length nearly down my throat. Wet heat filled my mouth as he shook with a guttural roar; in shock I swallowed what I could and the rest spilled out from between my lips. I felt Thranduil’s hand tremble as he relaxed his hold on me, though he did not fully let go. Neither did I, not even as he shrank and softened against my tongue.

Another moment passed before he released me, his cock slipping out as he stepped back the best he could in his state. He was flushed in a manner I rarely saw, especially in Elves, as he worked to regain composure. He pulled his clothing back up and on as his breathing settled. He seemed neither cross nor pleased.

I stood up, wiped spit and spare cum from my mouth, unsure of what to do or say. Only when I opened my mouth to speak did he.

“You will come to the festivities tonight.”

“Athon.”

A smile bloomed on his face. “Aníron gin mibed.” His brows only arched with expectation.

I nodded and, with hands to cradle my face, his lips pressed into mine. Only when his tongue sought entry did I think to part my lips for him. He could taste himself, I knew it, but the moan suggested he did not mind. Perhaps he enjoyed it as he licked his lips after the kiss broke.

“Gin hannon.” The Elvenking gave me a final kiss on the cheek, then swept out of the room.

I smelled him all over me; I thought to skip my bathing.

I used some Elvish - specifically Sindarin, which is what Thranduil speaks - and I’ll put the meanings of the words at the bottom for those curious. Please don’t attack if I’m wrong on these, I used a few sites and had to try and conjugate stuff myself and I’m not an Elvish expert, lol!  (Also a mantle is basically the cloak or cape that royalty wear.)

Previous Piece: Taste

Next Pieces: Sight, Sound

Tagging: @crazytxgradstudent​ @pinksiamese​ @welcome-to-fangirl-hell​ and @aisling1985​ because I either had a specific discussion about the prior piece or they requested a sequel and, haha, this is it (and I don’t want them to miss it). If you want to be tagged (or untagged) just let me know.

(The gif was found on Google.)

Word Glossary (in order of usage):

Amman? - For what?/Why? Edain - Men, as in the species Adaneth - Woman, as in the female of the species Man Baw! - No!/Don’t!/Do not! Aran nín - translation: My king Baw telio!  - translation: Don’t play! Ethuil - Spring, the first season of the Elvish new year Athon - translation: Yes, I will Aníron gin mibed - translation: I want to kiss you Gin hannon. - translation: Thank you (informal form)

[voiceoftravelerdotcom]

Top 1O must visit old Chennai’s sightseeing spots

Before we indulge in our topic, let us know about Chennai's history. In general, we know that India is a land of pilgrimage. Records about destinations got encrypted in ancient poetic form.

Chennai's history began in the 16th century when the Portuguese settled near Mylapore. But even during their period, there is no record for the term Chennai.

Foundation for modern Chennai City got laid after British India constructed the St. George fort around the 17th century (1640). The story says that the British bought the land from a person name "Chennapa Nayana."

Later with the help of locals' word of mouth, the term "Chenna patnam" was coined. 

This region flourished as the British built Harbour. Later, even the first southern Indian railways, "Royapuram" (still active), were constructed near Harbour.

So "Patnam" in Tamil means "City," thus forming Chennai City over a period.

George Fort Museum

To be precise, this is the first British fortress built on Indian soil in 1639.

In its present form, St. George fort acts as the Tamil Nadu legislative assembly hall. 

After the state police checking procedure, visitors are allowed to explore the Museum. During special occasions, are visitors permitted to explore St. George fort. 

It is a must-visit place not only because of its history but also for its beautiful European architecture construction.

Entry time: Monday – Sunday (0900 Am – 0500 Pm), Friday - Holiday.

Entry fee: Indians Rs. 5/- Foreigners Rs. 100/-.

Parthasarathy Temple

Temples are the blood veins carrying the history of south India, which could even go as far as 300 BCE and maybe more.

Pallavas, Cheras & Cholas ruled this region of modern India. During their regime, each Kingdome engraved their people's history, lifestyle & other practices on the temple's walls, which withstood thousands of years and reached us.

One such famous temple with a lot of history, tradition, and practice rich place is the Parthasarathy Temple. Refers to Lord Krishna as a "Charioteer to Arjuna."

This temple is among many to exhibit Dravidian Architecture style and skill to construct a temple using hard rock and not soft rock. It is fantastic and mind-blowing.  

Kapaleswarar Temple

Temple dedicated to Siva and Parvathi; Mythology says, lord Parvathi took a peahen form to worship Siva. In Tamil, peahen gets translated as Mayil. 

Over a period, through local dialect, it has formed as "Mayilapor."

This deity is well known for being revered in Saiva canonical works written by Nayanars in Tevaram. It is a famous narrative on puranic heroes and the Hagiographic account of Siva.

This temple is also a wonder of Dravidian Architecture with sky-high gopuras and marvelous sculpture skills in each pillar.

The way people worship Siva and their practice are unique to this part of India. This cultural beauty has to be experienced rather than read.

If you visit Chennai from mid-March to mid-April, never miss the Panguni Peruvizha festival. It is one of the colorful active celebration days dedicated to Lord Siva.

Government Museum

Pantheon complex has a contrasting environment outside the gate and inside the entrance. It is the busiest location in Egmore, one of the most commercialized places.

Outside the Patheon Complex, we could see the busy city running without time to think. But amid its busy schedule lies this peaceful premise with ample space to enjoy its calm environment.

This complex has a Government Museum, constructed during the British regime around 1851. At that time, it was only the second Museum in British India after the Indian Museum in Kolkata.

Its historical values, Archaeological collections attract kids and youngsters. 

Among them, the colossal theatre is so impressive with its Roman architecture. The theatre is well maintained and retains its charm.

Connemara Public Library

Within the Pantheon complex, we have Connemara Public Library, 1896.

It is one of the four "National Depository Library." It means depository libraries will receive copies of books and newspapers published in India.

National Depository Library

Connemara Public Library, Chennai

Asiatic Society of Bombay, Mumbai

National Library, Calcutta

Delhi Public Library, Delhi 

Connemara library, this library has a collection of more than 60,000 books. 

You must visit this library for its magnificent interior work. It is a mix of Mughal and European art forms. It is a sure treat to watch and enjoy the colors it reflects and the mood set for its readers.

Luz Church

Dedicated to "Our Lady of Light" and was built around 1516.

Today it is a buzzing location, but it was not the case when it got built. Based on the record, it had dense forest surrounding it.

Luz Church is the first church built in Chennai. You have to visit this church for its European architecture and its mix of Gothic and Baroque styles.

The ambiance, architecture & interior is rich, and the altar holding Mother Marry is fantastic. It is compact, and the silence it brings to your heart is a gift.

Thomas Cathedral Basilica 

The church stands above the tomb of Saint Thomas, one of the 12 disciples of Jesus.

People also say that Saint Thomas's tomb was maintained by Muslims for a century and left unattended until the Portuguese arrived and rebuilt the memorial.

The present-day Cathedral is a Gothic architecture built by the British. This church has a museum that explains the life of Saint Thomas until his death.

Saint Thomas Mount

This church is dedicated to Marry. But this mount has got one more historical incident. Approximately 1815, some 207yrs ago, Lambton's survey got approval.

 Later in 1818, Colonel Everest joined the team as second in command.

Both began their journey from St. Thomas mount heading south till Kanyakumari and went straight north to accomplish "The Great Trigonometric survey" of the world.

Finally, Colonel Everest made the most significant finding, Mt. Sagarmatha, the tallest mountain in the world. Mt. Sagarmatha was named Mt. Everest in 1865.

RIO GOH

Abbreviation for "Regional Institute of Ophthalmology and Government Ophthalmic Hospital." It is the world's second eye hospital and Asia's first dedicated hospital for eye treatment, built around 1819. 

Only after the "The London infirmary for curing Diseases of the eye (1805)."

A must-visit spot, though crowded with patience. RIO GOH campus has a dedicated museum named after Lt Col R Elliot served as superintendent from 1904 to 1913.

Triplicane Big Mosque 

Nawab of Arcot Muhammad Ali Khan Wallajah (1795) constructed the mosque. A dedicated place to practice and pray to Islamic culture. It is the biggest mosque in Chennai.

The interesting fact lies in Muhammad Ali Khan Wallajah's brilliance, generosity, and open-hearted. 

Though he is a loyal follower of Islam, he expressed friendliness with his fellow Hindus. He had appointed Raja Makhan Lal Bahadur Khirat as his Chief personal secretary.

This mosque can accommodate thousands of visitors to offer prayer during Bakrid and Ramzan. This part of Mylapore is a mixed culture with a unique flavor and great Nawab touch.

[daleisgreat]

WrestleMania 36

Welcome to my annual WrestleMania-week entry where I recap the previous year’s WrestleMania (WM). Please indulge me for a bit, because the 2020 show had so many unprecedented circumstances going into it that it will require a bit of a prologue before I evaluate the card. For those that remember 2020’s installment of WWE’s biggest PPV of the year, it will be remembered as a WM like no other (hopefully!). For the better part of the latter half of WM history, the event has transpired in mammoth outdoor stadiums and/or sports arenas, oftentimes with inflated attendance numbers of well over 50,000. WWE would spare no expense with elaborate entrance stage sets, live band/artist performances, major celebrity/sports guests, etc. That all changed with 2020’s WrestleMania 36. WWE was set to roll forward with a pirate-themed WM, with countless pirate-themed ads, signage and a meticulous CG montage of WWE wrestlers decked out in pirate gear, and animated waves splashing against them while doing heroic sword-slashing poses to open the show. However, as we all know by now plans drastically altered, when with under a month before WM36’s original date of April 5th, the worldwide Co-Vid pandemic was declared on March 11th. This promptly shutdown a majority of travel and businesses internationally for the better part of the next two months before businesses and travel restrictions started to ease up, at least here in the United States. No one knew how long the shutdown was going to last, so WWE hastily taped the matches at their Performance Center training facilities, while rumored the tapings lasted up until the final hours before the lockdown went into effect in Florida.

This would mean for the first time in WM history, the even would be taped, and not on a short several hour delay ala Summerslam ‘92, but taped a couple weeks in advance! WWE officials allegedly were warning of severe consequences if spoilers leaked. Upon re-watching this WM36, it is still jaw-dropping to see the show associated with said large sports arenas and near six figures of fans was now emanating in front of ZERO fans in a small black-curtained off area of a training facility. Since the Network-era of WM PPVs in 2014, most of the events have went notoriously long around the six-to-seven hour mark when factoring in a two hour pre-show. While WWE was marketing yet another loaded 16-match card that would likely last that long, it seemed highly undesirable to force fans to watch that long of a show with zero fan atmosphere so WWE for the first time split WM into two nights on April 4th and 5th. On previous WM recaps here I advocated for two-night WMs because those one night marathons pushed alert limits to new levels, so I was relieved to hear WWE announce the two-night event. Keep in mind this was a few weeks into the pandemic, well before WWE started experimenting with NXT talent as fans for a couple months before eventually settling on the ubiquitous video walls of virtual fans at the Thunderdome that major WWE telecasts currently transpire in.

Usually the yearly WWE Hall of Fame ceremony is included with the BluRay as a bonus feature, but the 2020 ceremony that was slated to happen on WM36 weekend was postponed a year, and transpired earlier this week the same night with the 2021 inductees. Out of sheer habit and self-imposed obligation, I will give a quick breakdown of the 2020 half of the ceremony. It took place at the Thunderdome with Jerry Lawler back hosting, and in order to breeze through so many inductions there was no inductors, and some inductees like the Bellas were told they had a five minute time limit for their speeches. The 2020 Hall of Fame class is the nWo (Hulk Hogan, Scott Hall, Kevin Nash, Sean Waltman), British Bulldog, Jushin Thunder Liger, Nickie & Brie Bella, Justin Bradshaw Layfield, Warrior Award winner Titus ‘O Neil and representing the celebrity wing: William Shatner. Dave Batista was supposed to be inducted too, but he postponed his induction because of a scheduling conflict and wanted to accept in person. It was kind of odd seeing the Hall of Fame done with virtual fans, but WWE did their best with piping in artificial fan noise at appropriately timed references and jokes, and even fake chants when the hall of famers hit their catchphrases. A nice video recap aired for each inductee, and then most inductees gave roughly five minute speeches. JBL kicked off, and for a five minute speech he hit as many key highlights as he could in that short time allocated, and had a nice closing where he teased a heartfelt apology to locker room rivals. Some inductees like Shatner and Liger could not attend, but sent in brief, pre-recorded acceptance speeches. One inadvertent positive side effect was Liger’s speech was translated through subtitles, and there was no pauses to wait for the translator that would happen if it was done live. Shatner’s breezy speech took a fun jab at Lawler, and was to the point. Between each induction, brief backstage interviews were done with current WWE stars acknowledging how big a night this was for the legends and shared past stories and memories. Davey Boy Smith’s son, Harry, alongside Bulldog’s widow, Diana and Matilda’s granddaughter, Huffy, gave an affectionate induction to his father.

The “Legacy Wing” of the Hall of Fame occurred next, and the 2020 class was represented by Ray Stevens, Brickhouse Brown, “Dr. Death” Steve Williams, Baron Michele Leone and Gary Hart. A very deserving Titus ‘O Neil was recognized with the annual Warrior Award for his countless philanthropic efforts, and Titus gave an inspirational and heartwarming acceptance. The Bellas were expectedly on brand with their speeches, and each of the four nWo members shared some fun Monday Night Wars tales, except for Scott Hall who said only about 20 words. Hogan teased he never lost the nWo Title and that he would make a return to defend it. All told the 2020 portion of the ceremony was about an hour and a half, making it the shortest WWE Hall of Fame ceremony in quite some time! 2020 was undoubtedly a tough year on everyone. Come that WM36 weekend I, like many others, was in a rough place. Being a few weeks into the pandemic I had no idea what to make sense of on the news. I originally had a vacation planned for a week starting a few days before WM where I was going to be travelling out of town for a retro videogame convention I try and hit up most years, and it would have conveniently wrapped up shortly before WM started. As anticipated, the convention was cancelled, and in a crazy coincidence the day before I originally was planning to leave a water pipe burst in my home and my place had all kinds of water damage and furniture moved around for several days before it was all put back into place and cleaned up. Adding to the coincidental timing, night one of WM happened to be on my birthday, and this was early in the pandemic before masks were widely available and a lot of adherence to the lockdown and social distancing was being recommended and I felt gutted when family members wanted to celebrate and all I told them I felt safe doing was briefly visiting a few of them on my driveway. Needless to say, with all that going on my headspace had seen better days, and having WM36 to selfishly fall back on that weekend was a modicum of respite I desperately needed.

Thank you for indulging me with all that prefacing. With that all out of the way, it is time to move onward to looking at night one of WM36. Both nights of WM36 had a half hour kickoff show, with one match on each kickoff show that are included as BluRay bonuses. Night one saw Cesaro and Drew Gulak tear it up in a hard-hitting, five minute technical showcase with Cesaro getting the win with a momentous Airplane Spin. Stephanie McMahon gave a special introduction to the unique circumstances that were forced upon WM36 once the show officially began. I will give props to WWE for their contingency plan when their planned special artist to sing “America the Beautiful” could not make the event, and instead WWE went with a medley/montage of all past WM artists and bands like Little Richard, Aretha Franklin, Boyz 2 Men, Ray Charles and many more singing the anthem that traditionally kicks off WM. From there, four-time Super Bowl winner and host of WM36, Rob Gronkowski welcomed everyone, and his real-life friend and WWE star, Mojo Rawley, joined him in the hosting balcony. The first official WM36 match was for the Women’s Tag Titles with Asuka & Kari Sayne defending against Alexa Bliss & Nikki Cross. I miss Kari Sayne, and am still in disbelief how WWE wrote her off TV a few months later via implied murder! Kari & Asuka’s foreign taunting and screaming helped fill the void of no crowd noise to an extent, but was not enough for them to retain after Alexa pinned Kari with her Twisted Bliss to win the gold for her and Nikki. Baron Corbin faced Elias who Baron thought would be unable to compete after recently tossing him off a balcony, but Elias made it in time to whack Baron with a guitar, and eventually Corbin’s jawjacking with the ref got the best of him as Elias capitalized with a roll-up for the win in this brief fan favorite arc of his character. Becky Lynch defended the RAW Women’s Title against Shayna Baszler next. Becky was near the end of her red-hot year+ long reign as champ here, but this bout had a peculiar build highlighted by Shayna bloodily biting Becky’s ear. This also-peculiar match saw Becky mostly taking a ground attack beating from Shayna until Becky pulled off a reverse pinning combination for the sudden win.

Sami Zayn defended his Intercontinental Title next against Daniel Bryan. Zayn was accompanied by Cesaro & Shinsuke Nakamura while Bryan was seconded by Drew Gulak. Interference from all three played a factor throughout this intense battle, with a distracted Bryan falling victim to Sami’s Haluva Kick for the victory. The Smackdown Tag Titles were on the line next in a triple threat ladder match, but with only one member from each team due to Miz being quarantined for Co-Vid symptoms. So that meant John Morrison defended the tag titles solo against Kofi Kingston of the New Day and Jimmy Uso. The three did not disappoint with many creative highspots and sequences, with a unique finish that saw all three unhook the tag titles at the same time and Morrison collapsing off the ladder with the titles after a tug-of-war battle with them to successfully retain the titles. Seth Rollins faced Kevin Owens next, and Owens continued his awesome tradition of paying homage to vintage WM posters, with a nod to WMIV’s poster design on his shirt. Rollins DQ’d himself early in the match after using the ring bell, but Owens goads Rollins into restarting the match with No DQ. This time Owens repeatedly hits Rollins with the bell to lay him out long enough for Owens to climb on top of the WM sign to deliver a Cannonball Splash through the announcer’s table in an eye-opening spot. Owens then dragged a lifeless Seth to the ring to execute a Stunner for the win. A WM host check-in with Mojo and Gronk was interrupted by Hardcore 24/7 champion, R-Truth, who was seeking refuge from all comers up in the host balcony, but instead fell to a gut-punch from Gronk, only to see Mojo sneak in a quick pin and run off from his hosting duties as the new 24/7 champ.

The Universal Title match was up next that was scheduled to have Bill Goldberg defend against Roman Reigns. Several days before the WM tapings however, Roman Reigns shocked everyone by legitimately pulling out of the match due to understandable Co-Vid concerns from having underlying health issues from being a two-time Leukemia survivor. With such short notice, WWE did not have time to build a storyline replacement for last minute substitute, Braun Strowman, and only briefly publicly declared the substitution during a rundown of all the matches the day before on Smackdown. The match was a quick smashmouth flurry of finishers, with Goldberg unable to pin Braun after four straight spears, and instead Braun achieving the pin and Universal title after unleashing four straight powerslams.

The main event for night one of WM36 was the cinematic “Boneyard Match” between AJ Styles and The Undertaker. For those not keeping up with pandemic-era WWE, the first few PPVs of the pandemic saw the inclusion of one or two matches on each PPV shot in the form of a movie, often without commentary and instead ambient music in the background. I embedded the match above (or click or press here to check it out) for those who have not seen it, because if you are a lapsed fan and have not witnessed it yet, the match garnered surprise acclaim from both wrestling and non-wrestling fans. It saw AJ and ‘Taker duke it out in a dilapidated graveyard, complete with Eastwood-esque trash talk, mystical druids, old-school ‘Taker dark magic, Good Brothers, motorcyles and Metallica. It was freaking great, and a much needed distraction from the empty arena. The finish saw ‘Taker big boot AJ into an empty grave, and dump a truckload of dirt on him to gracefully exit the “Boneyard” on his motorcycle with Metallica singing him out. As of this writing, this was Undertaker’s last match, and going by his latest interviews it sounds like he is indeed hanging it up for good this time, especially after WWE threw him a “final farewell” retirement-esque ceremony on the character’s 30th anniversary several months later at Survivor Series. Still with me for night two coverage of WM36? Take a break, grab a Steve-weiser, and relax for my night two coverage! The kickoff match saw Liv Morgan usurp Natalya with a reverse roll-up after a solid back-and-forth match. Night two officially started with Rhea Ripley defending the NXT Women’s Title against Charlotte Flair. Sorry to report that I am not a big fan of either of these two, and this match did not sit well with me either as it was mostly Flair working over Rhea’s leg until she locked in the Figure-Eight for the tapout win. Charlotte’s NXT title run wound up being a disaster, and she did not put over anyone while she was champ there. Onto better things as Aleister Black and Bobby Lashley squared off next. I completely forgot Lashley was married to Lana at this point in his character, but that would change soon after this as Lana urged Lashley to switch up finishing moves on Black, which backfired and saw Aleister connect with his Black Mass finisher for the pin. Next up saw Dolph Ziggler face Otis in the apex of a meticulous storyline where Otis fell victim to Dolph’s treachery when trying to win the heart of Mandy Rose. Mandy’s former friend Sonya Deville was assisting Dolph throughout the match until Mandy ran out to take care of her, which set up Otis to hit his outrageous Caterpillar finish for the win, and the happy uniting with Rose which tried its darnd-est to be on the same level with Randy Savage and Elizabeth from WMVII.

The next match was Edge’s big return singles match against Randy Orton after coming back at the Royal Rumble a couple months earlier. The buildup to this bout was impressive too, with Edge, Orton and Beth Phoenix all having emotional and investing promos leading up to this. This was a Last Man Standing match that saw the two battle all over the Performance Center throughout the backstage area, offices, training facilities and parking areas before reaching its final act on top of a semi where the two traded finishing moves until Edge hit a con-chair-toe for the 10-count win. The match held up much better on second viewing, and is best to watch it on its own as it lasted nearly 40 minutes. Shortly after this, Mojo Rawley re-emerged into the ringside area fending off 24/7 Title pursuers. Gronk took this moment upon himself to leap onto the pile of wrestlers from the host balcony and pin Mojo to win the 24/7 Title, a belt he would hold for a couple months until shortly after un-retiring from football where a sneaky R-Truth would roll-up Gronk for the title in his yard while filming a Tik-Toc video….seriously. Titus ‘O Neil would shortly arrive later to wrap-up hosting duties for Gronk for the remainder of the show. The RAW Tag Titles were on the line next with the Street Profits defending against Angel Garza and Austin Theory, who was a last minute sub for an injured Andrade. This was a quick five minute recharge bout, with the four competitors all staying in third gear throughout it for a non-stop action affair. Angelo Dawkins pinned Theory after a surprise splash from Montez Ford. The Smackdown Women’s Title 5-Way Elimination match followed with Bayley defending against Lacey Evans, Sasha Banks, Tamina and Naomi. Sasha and Bayley team up for a lot of early success, until their teamwork fails and Sasha falls victim to Lacey’s Women’s Right leaving it down to Lacey and Bayley. Right when it looks like Lacey has Bayley’s number, Sasha returned with a Backstabber on Lacey, which allowed Bayley to follow that up by driving Lacey down to the mat for the win.

The cinematic match of the second night was a “Firefly Funhouse” bout between “The Fiend” Bray Wyatt and John Cena. I have no idea where to begin describing this one. Essentially, Bray Wyatt suffers from multiple-personality disorder, and in this match Cena journeys to Wyatt’s multi-dimensional funhouse. It is filled with decades of pro-wrestling references that sees Cena and Wyatt cut Saturday Night’s Main Event-era promos on each other, join the nWo and relive Cena’s debut against Kurt Angle. I swear I am up not making any of this up! Just check out the embed above or click or press here to see for yourself! This cinematic match did not quite measure up to the Boneyard match, but was still an entertaining spectacle to experience with the deluge of references and callbacks to wrestling history. Eventually “The Fiend” pinned Cena with his Mandible Claw (while Bray Wyatt counted the pin, just roll with it), and the live feed then cut to a confused Titus ‘O Neil proclaiming what we all were thinking “I have no idea what we just saw.” The main event of night two saw Brock Lesnar defending the WWE Title against Drew McIntyre. This was built up as Drew’s big redemption story after being fired from WWE several years earlier, and it taking him 16 years to win his first major championship. It was too bad it all played out in the empty performance center, but the duo made the best of it with another instant hard hitting affair similar to the Braun/Goldberg match. After a little bit of early brawling, Brock hit three F5s which Drew all kicked out of, and then Drew countered with three straight Claymore kicks to be crowned the WWE champion for the feel-good closing of the show. What aired on RAW the next night, but actually transpired about 20 minutes after the Brock match and is on here as a BluRay bonus feature is Drew coming back to the ring for a victory interview only to be interrupted and challenged for the title by Big Show. Drew accepts the challenge, and after taking a pounding from Big Show for several minutes, Drew recovers and fires back with a Claymore for his first successful title defense. Drew has went on to be “the guy” for RAW for the better part of the next year, and while it feels he has been fulfilling that role, it is impossible to tell without a live, paying, audience, and I am curious to see how Drew is received at WM37 this weekend against Lashley.

The WM35 BluRay had the 2019 Hall of Fame as a digital bonus feature, and on the disc it had the entirety of the next night’s RAW, and a couple segments from the next Smackdown. The WM36 BluRay went down a different road with its bonus features, and aside from the two bonus kickoff matches and the post-WM Drew/Big Show match, there is about two hours of accumulated interviews, promos and segments from the previous two months of RAW, Smackdown and NXT. I watched them all, and it was a nice refresher of all the rivalries, although awkward at the same time, because about half of the segments still have fans in the arena which felt weird to see again after so long with empty/virtual arenas. Some highlights include a couple vintage Paul Heyman hype promos, AJ Styles and the Goodbrothers messing with Undertaker, the awful Rhea Ripley/Charlotte Flair interactions from NXT and Randy Orton’s epic must-see promo on Beth Phoenix for why he attacked Edge. It would be unfair of me to give a traditional yay/nay grade to WrestleMania 36 due to how the event barely came together at the final hour in the early stages of the pandemic. Seeing a lot of these matches in the empty Performance Center simply feels weird, and proved constantly difficult to suspend disbelief and get into the pro-wrestling fan mindset during viewing. The two cinematic matches are what essentially helped get me back into “fan mode” and get invested in the unique nature of those two bouts, and if you have to watch two matches from this show, then those two are the way to go. The two “slobberknocker” world title brawls are also quick, intense matches that are worth checking out. Once again, I love the two-night concept as it serves as a perfect break point for watching at home, and I am thankful WWE is doing that again for this year’s WM. All things told, this will go down as a historical achievement that WWE managed to put this together, and probably worth one day going back to watching to see how far we have come from those early dark days of the pandemic before we knew what the next eventful year had in store for everyone.

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[irenayanvibe]

Secessionism

After: neo-impressionism

Secessionism - 19th century

Before: aestheticism

Secessionism

Secessionism was a term used by German and Austrian artists that refers to a number of avant-garde art groups that separated from the support and traditions of Art Academies in the end of the 19th century.

What was academic art?

An art style that was produced under the influence of European Art academies. It had a  finished and idealized painting style, but secessionism artists did not like that and had a strong urge explore the possibilities of art outside the confines of the academic tradition.

They wanted independent exhibitions and wanted to focus more on contemporary social concerns rather than mythical and legendary creatures.

So, Through the 19th century many secession groups were formed to advocate for some kind of change as a voice of opposition. The three most famous ones being the Munich secession, the Berlin secession, and the Vienna secession, which was the best known and most influential secession group.

Munich secession

An association of visual artists that arose out of disputes within the Munich art world in 1892. It was the first of the many secessions that promoted to defend their art in the face of what they considered conservative policies.  It wanted to have new ways of looking at the role of art, and at the presentation of art.

The munich secession broke away from the salon style exhibition. Paintings were hung on light coloured walls, and with more space between them, so that spectators could focus on a single work rather than be distracted by a mass of other canvases.

The munich secession also championed all types of arts, thus entry qualifications were broadened. Shows were no longer limited to fine art painting and sculpture, but also included works of applied art (everyday use), decorative art and design, furniture, clothing, graphic arts, and as well as a number of crafts and posters.

Style

Out of the three big secessions, the munich secession was least shaped by a repressive academic tradition. Although it included a large amount of Naturalistic and Impressionistic painting we can see the first stirrings of abstraction and new and highly expressive painting styles in this secession

The Vienna secession

Founded by Gustav Klimt in 1897. It can be seen as a bridge between 19th century aestheticism and 20th century Modernism. It held its first exhibition in 1898. by 1905 the secession was divided into two groups due to differences of opinion over artistic concept: on one side, those who supported Klimt: on the other, Naturalists who wanted to re-assert the primacy of the arts.

Style

They hoped to create a new style that owed nothing to historical influence. Unlike other movements, there is not one style that unites the work of all artists who were part of the Vienna Secession. But distinctive works are often suggestiveness of ambiguous emotional states and attitudes and combine a flat, decorative style with subtle, and strong use of colour.

The Secession Building Vienna

The Secession Building in Vienna is the icon of the movement and is its physical, spiritual, and permanent home. The building was designed by Josef Maria Olbrich and was located in a culturally vibrant part of Vienna.

The inspiration for it came from neoclassical architecture and the gold foliage was used to evoke the idea of a protected wall for viewing the artistic work inside. The use of gold on white also emphasizes the purity of the space as well as the precious nature of the art. It had the nickname:"The Golden Cabbage" for decorative leaves surrounding the dome. Above the entrance of the building read German words, which translates into, “To the Age its Art; to Art its Freedom”.  

Artist: Josef Maria Auchentaller

This poster is influenced by french artists as you can tell by the style of hair coloring and the nearly-silhouetted figures in the background. The only reason I wanted to include this artwork was because it showed how Secessionists from the beginning started to connect foreign artwork and artists, by accepting the entry of a poster into the realm of fine art.

Gustav Klimt  

Gustav klimt born July 14, 1862 and died February 6, 1918, was an Austrian painter and one of the most prominent members of the secession era. He was the founder of the Vienna Secession movement and his decorative and the ritualistic key features help distinguish viennese secession from any other secessionist group. He was noted for his paintings, but as he developed a more personal style, his work was the subject of controversy that culminated when the paintings he completed around 1900 for the ceiling of the Great Hall of the University of Vienna were criticized as pornographic. He then accepted no more public commissions, but achieved a new success with the paintings of his "golden phase".

His works often consisted of a decorative style and the part where his human figure would become part of a flattened, decorative pattern remained a distinctive characteristic of his work

The Kiss

This is one of the most popular work by gustav klimt and was one of the paintings from his golden faze. It depicts a couple kiss on a carpet of flowers and the woman kneels before the man suggesting a ritual of presentation and offering. The painting is painted in a exact square and is composed of oil paint with applied layers of gold. It contains gustav’s distinctive styles by using decorative colour, shimmering gold, and abstract patterns to evoke an idealised world.

[higherfeed]

Century-Old Castles, Urban Renewal, and Czech Beer: The 4-Day Weekend in Prague

Prague is a city of contrasts. Among the Gothic churches, Art Deco façades, and abundant Baroques are modern marvels—like Gehry’s deconstructivist Dancing House or the renewed business district rising from the city center. If you look toward the westward skyline, there’s the 1891 Eiffel-esque Petrin Tower, sprouting from the Malá Strana hills near the 9th-century Prague Castle. But across the Vltava River, looming over the city center, is the tripod Žižkov TV tower. Completed in 1992, it’s often voted the ugliest structure in the world, due to the naked alien babies that crawl up and down its sides. ]] 10 Under-the-Radar European Cities Worth Visiting It’s these old and new contrasts that continually raise Prague’s profile against other European musts, like Rome, Paris, Amsterdam, or Barcelona. Prague has no shortage of tourists for this reason, and if you don’t budget enough days, you’ll spend the entire time in long lines or aimless crowds. Instead, you should slow yourself down, meander to the city’s graffiti-dotted haunts, and enjoy your Czech pints and wines at a fraction of the cost. Here’s how to plan an awesome extended weekend in Prague—four days, to be precise—to experience all it has to offer.

The lobby of the Alcron Hotel Prague Courtesy Image

Where to Stay in Prague

]] The Alcron The Alcron Hotel is a mainstay in Prague—erected in 1932 and still dripping with glorious Art Deco detail (think marble, suede, murals, statues). If you want to stay in the city center and be walking distance to the most essential stops—while also enjoying 5-star amenities and hospitality—then the Alcron is an obvious choice. You’ve got a fully equipped gym with saunas and a spa, plus three onsite eateries: the oft-Michelin-starred Alcron, with A+ presentation and pairings (and the most Art Deco room you’ve ever seen); La Rotonde for breakfast, fixe-prix lunch menus, and hearty fine dining come night; and Be Bop Bar, serving cheeky cocktails with a dash of good humor. There’s an old saying in Prague that anyone who cooks really well “cooks like the Alcron,” and you’ll take that adage home with you. But be warned—this is the kind of hotel you feel like you could live in. Palaces, Gelato, and David Himself: The 4-day Weekend in Florence Mama Shelter At the other end of the hospitality spectrum is Mama Shelter, a boisterous and colorful hot spot in Holešovice. That location is a big draw if you want to step out of the center and surround yourself with Prague’s young creative class. Mama Shelter fits the bill, with its colorful decor and equally vibrant food-and-drink menus. Their modern rooms accommodate any budget, and like any other Mama Shelter property, Prague’s is a great place to meet other travelers.

]]

What to Do in Prague

Day 1: Prague Castle, Letná, Holešovice Give the first half of your day to Prague Castle. It’s more of a castle compound, with numerous attractions contained inside. Entrance is free, but many of the interior sites charge a small fee. Get there early, before the ticketed spots open at 9 a.m. (the grounds open at 6 a.m.), since tourism groups will clog the security line entrances to the museums and churches. Those crowds typically dissipate by midday, making the final hours another quiet time to visit (3-5 p.m.). Get there by hopping on tram No. 22, or fare the steep stairs if you want to walk your way up from the St. Charles Bridge.) Once inside, prioritize the Old Royal Palace, St. George’s Basilica, and St. Vitus Cathedral, all of which can be purchased together with a bundled ticket. The other must-sees are the various garden grounds, as well as the Lobkowicz Palace, a private collection of paintings, ceramics, artifacts, and composer manuscripts (from the likes of Beethoven and Mozart). There’s also a good cafe, if you need a pick-me-up. Next, point yourself to the neighborhood of Letná, a few dollars away via taxi or a short tram ride. It’s also walking distance from the castle, and offers equally picturesque panoramas of Prague from atop the hilly Letná Park, where the city’s infamous Stalin statue once stood. In its place now is a giant metronome overlooking skater punks and musical buskers. Savor the views with a beer in hand, then make your way for lunch. You’ll be hard-pressed to stay hungry in Letná, with the number of bars, beer gardens and restaurants springing up from the city’s younger populations. Try Letná Beer Garden for drafts with a view; Mr. Hot Dog for a bevy of (you guessed it) hot dog varieties, sliders, and French fries; Alchymista for a coffee break within the Stromovka Park Japanese gardens; or Erhart Cafe to satisfy your sweet tooth. ]] The Most Epic Ways to Explore Finland’s Lapland Letná is where you’ll get your first major contrast of the trip. The 9th-century castle grounds and pockets of the neighborhood feel almost as gritty as if it were 1989, when Letná was released from the grips of communism. But that’s not to imply it lacks grandeur and scale: Keep your eyes peeled for cultural staples like National Gallery Prague, National Museum Lapidarium sculpture grounds, and see what’s happening at the Výstaviště exhibition center—though its Art Nouveau Industrial Palace is worth seeing from the outside. With a few hours left in your day, head to the neighboring Holešovice. You’ve got two key priorities: First, meander DOX Center for Contemporary Art, inhabiting an old factory and capped with the 42-meter-long “Gulliver Airship”. Secondly, settle into Vnitroblock and peruse its artist huts, record shops, and cafes. It’s here you’ll get a real taste of Prague’s 20- and 30-somethings who would prefer to avoid the city-center chaos. Instead, they meet over beers and music, preferring a more energetic and eclectic space.

]] Day 2: Old Town and Karlín Today, you’ll knock out the key central stops. At some point, be sure to catch the hourly bells from beneath the Astronomical Clock as it rotates a cast of religious characters. Your hour-long guided tour of the clock will show you the 15th-century mechanism up close, too, including its apostolic cast. Give yourself an hour to tour Old Town Hall, or book a tour to see even more of the site, including its underground cellars. Then, add another hour to meander the many side streets of Old Town, much of which is rendered gimmicky due to the high foot traffic and central location. Cross the St. Charles Bridge, which will surely be lined with tourists. (It’s much better from afar, in photographs.) This is a necessary part of your visit, as it leads to a few attractions on the other side of the Vltava River. World-Class Cuisine, Spellbinding Souqs, and Aquatic Adventures: The 4-Day Weekend in Aqaba, Jordan

]] First, point yourself to the Wallenstein Gardens (free entry), where you can ogle regal peacocks; a stunning grotto-esque drip wall that wraps an owl’s den; and a beautifully manicured garden, complete with a koi pond. Next is your chance to walk over to the Lennon Peace Wall and the Kafka Museum. The last hours of your day will be spent in picturesque Karlín. It sits across from yesterday afternoon’s destinations, Letná and Holešovice, though it’s got far fewer cultural institutions. You’re here to get a feel for Prague’s recent history—a neighborhood devastated by the floods of 2002 and since reborn. In some ways, that flood is responsible for its renovations, as Karlín was previously seen as too industrial by visitors. Today, it’s bustling with locals and still showcases magnificent Art Nouveau and Baroque structures, in addition to foodie favorites like Manifesto Market, as well as cafes galore, like EMA Espresso Bar. Meander the former factory grounds of Forum Karlín, photo-ready Lyčkovo Square, and Invalidovna, which houses Czechia’s Ministry of Defense. Walk up to Vítkov Hill to see the Jan Žižka military monument. Stay in the area for dinner, and pick between the down-to-earth and delightfully Czech Lokál or the equally Czech, but slightly more posh Eska. Day 3: Malá Strana and Vyšehrad ]] Today is not just a contrast of old and new, but also one of exertion and indulgence. Start the day with a hike through Malá Strana, which you may hear referred to as “Lesser Town.” (This is extrapolated from its literal translation of “Little Side Town,” since it sits beside the castle hill and across the river from the city center.) You can hike up to the Strahov Monastery (complete with its own well-regarded brewery onsite); or, you can begin atop the hill and meander down the Petrin hillside, below the Petrin Tower (again, that’s the Eiffel-esque one). You can climb the tower’s 299 stairs if you want an uninterrupted panorama from the top. The Car Lover’s Guide to Germany Here’s where yesterday’s trek across the Charles Bridge slightly overlaps with today’s agenda: Either day, spend some time at the base of the hill (near the river) browsing the shops along Mostecká Street. This is your second chance to see Wallenstein Gardens. Then, head south along the riverbank to the Legion Bridge. Cross here, then meander slightly south to Slovanic Island, which has a walkable inlet. Marvel at the Neo-Renaissance Žofín Palace, then block off an hour to rent a paddle boat. Hit the river and relax with a new perspective of the city.

]] After, walk south along the east bank, past the famous Dancing House (nicknamed Fred and Ginger, after Astaire and Roger), a 1996 completion by architects Vlado Milunić and Frank Gehry. Continue south to Vyšehrad, for lunch. Get the dumplings at häppies. Meander through the Vyšhehrad Cemetery, where numerous significant Czech artists are buried. Watch out for the magnificent Slavín tomb. A Yellowstone Geyser Blasted Out Years-Old Tourist Trash—See What Came Up Among Prague’s many architectural faces, Cubism stands out as one of the most prominent. You’ll see numerous examples of it outside the center, but Vyšehrad has it in droves. So look up! Make your way into Vyšehrad Gardens for city views, statues aplenty, and of all things, a fortress vineyard on the grounds of Vyšehrad Castle. Retire to the city center, making stops to see Wenceslas Square and the King Wenceslas monument; the shimmery, rotating Kafka head; or slip into Lucerna for a glance at the upsidedown equestrian statue outside Lucerna Music Bar. Head to dinner at The Alcron Hotel, at either La Rotonde (hearty fine dining) or The Alcron (for a special occasion, reservations necessary).

]] Day 4: Vinohrady Half Day, or an Out-of-Town Day Trip If you’ve only got part of the day to spare, then spend it in Vinohrady, a popular residential neighborhood just outside the center. Náměstí Míru is the square at the heart of it all, and home to the Church of St. Ludmila. Take detours to Na Švihance Street, Mánesova Street, and Římská Street to get your parting shots of Prague’s architecturally diverse façades. Hike up to the Valley of a Thousand Queens (yes, actually) for a hilltop view of the entire city. It’s optimal at sunset, but you can treat this as a metaphorical sunset on your visit. Grab beers or wine, which you can tote with you and drink in public—try Vinotéka Noelka for wine to-go—and toast to a job well done. If you’ve got time for lunch, have it at U Bulínů for a final taste of Czech cuisine. Have a full day to spare? Consider a day trip. There’s Karlovy Vary with its mineral-rich hot springs, the quaint and churchy Kutná Hora, or the public baths at Mariánské Lázně (aka Marionbad). The post Century-Old Castles, Urban Renewal, and Czech Beer: The 4-Day Weekend in Prague appeared first on Men's Journal. Read the full article

[asterinjapan]

Peach cental

Good evening from the city of peaches!

Today was a travel day, but it was the least cumbersome of all my travel days, so I still had time to Do Stuff. So I’ve been busy, and I’m definitely going to bed early considering I have already reserved a train ticket for tomorrow at 8:30, haha.

So, from Fukuoka to Okayama! Here we go. As it turns out this entry got long, so apologies in advance...

I got up early to have breakfast in peace, had a very quick check-out, and proceeded to make my way to the station. I think this might be the first day my legs are legitimately protesting, and that’s mostly because I had to drag my suitcase with me. Thankfully, my hotel is pretty close to the station, and the entrance for the shinkansen trains is nearby as well. Of course, I was way too early, so I watched the Nozomi (the fastest of the shinkansen, which I can’t use with m JR pass) come and go before my train showed up, the Sakura.

It was a little under two hours to Okayama, passing Hiroshima and Fukuyama on the way. Fukuyama castle is a literal stone’s throw from the station, but I noticed the main tower was partially covered, so I’m glad I went to see that one last year already!

After a smooth trip, I arrived at Okayama station and all but went deaf upon exiting, because there were all kinds of events going on. Today is a national holiday (Health and Sports day I think), so I guess that had something to do with it. Also, it’s hot! I was already regretting my warm pants, but what can you do.

I’m staying in the same hotel as last year, which is very easily found from the station anyway, so that was only a quick trip. In the lobby, I took out the necessities for my ‘daily backpack’ and then asked if I could leave the rest of my luggage here, as I was too early for check-in. Thankfully I could, haha, because I had Plans that would be significantly troublesome if I had to drag my suitcase with me.

So, out of the hotel I went, following the Momotarou street down to Okayama castle! Okay, two things: Momotarou is everywhere here. He’s a character from a folk tale, in which an elderly couple found a giant peach in the river and upon cutting it open, a boy jumped out. They raised the boy as their own and he ended up becoming a hero, as he teamed up with a dog, pheasant and a monkey and went on to defeat ogres. His name is Momotarou, which basically means ‘peach boy’. The story is more or less set in the region – there’s a prince called Kibitsuhiko whose story might have inspired Momotarou, and the shrines dedicated to him can be found in Okayama. I talked about this for a bit last year too, when I stayed in Okayama for the first time. Anyway, this has a predictable result: peaches and Momotarou everywhere. So down from Peach boy Road, onto the castle!

I visited the castle last year with my friend, but there was a little something we didn’t get to do, so I was taking this chance to rectify that.

Upon arrival however, it turned out there was a festival of some kind going on. Fun atmosphere, but it did mean it was pretty busy, hmm.

Into the castle I went anyway! They want you to start the tour on the top floor, so I meekly followed that advice and made my way down. The Thing I wanted to do would start again at 1 PM, so I took my time exploring the different floors and reading the Japanese signage (not a lot was translated except for titles, but I found the general guide boards pretty easy to follow). There was also a special exhibition with works by Masago Kimiya, who has an affinity for drawing historical figures from the Three Kingdoms and Warring States eras. I had no idea what to expect, but these works were beautiful! They look more like glamorous photos than the stylized portraits from back then, and to top it off, the hall told the story of Ukita Hideie, who completed the castle after taking over from his father. He was a big name, actually. (History lesson to follow!)

The little states making up Japan until 1600 were at constant war with each other, called the Sengoku (Warring States) era. Attempts to unify the country were made by Oda Nobunaga and then Toyotomi Hideyoshi. Hideie sided with them and ended up being one of Hideyoshi’s five counselors, along with a guy called Tokugawa Ieyasu. Yeah, there he is again, That One Guy. Anyway, after Hideyoshi was assassinated, Ieyasu took control and two camps emerged: the one on Ieyasu’s side, and the loyalists to Toyotomi, including Hideie. At the decisive battle of Sekigahara in 1600, Ieyasu’s side won, unified Japan, and Hideie was to be punished. He fled to what is now Kagoshima until he was eventually betrayed and exiled to the island of Hachijojima, Tokyo, where he lived out his life until his 80s (!). His wife, princess Gou, stayed loyal to him and kept sending him support (like food, since rice barely grew on the island) until she passed away.

Later the castle went to the Ikeda clan, and it was being maintained until the Meiji Restauration in 1869. The Meiji government wanted to break with the samurai era and actually tore down a lot of castles, although it left Okayama castle alone, filling the outer moats and leaving the rest as it is. In 1945, bombers destroyed the castle as yet with the exception of the Tsukimi Yagura (watch tower for moon watching), and so the current reconstruction is from the 1960s. The lion-fish on top are gilded now, but in the old days, the main keep had gilded roof tiles too. It was thus also known as the Golden Crow castle, since the exterior is mostly black.

Whew, so far for a lot of history, haha. Can you tell I really like this castle? I definitely do. So much so that I read up on it, haha, although the exhibition hall was also very informative and had information in English.

On the second floor, there were some photo spots and the Thing I wanted to do: dressing up as a feudal era princess! Okay, look, the kimono on display is really pretty and the dress up is free, come on, I’m not gonna pass up on that opportunity. I had to hang around here for quite a while, as I was about an hour early, but once it was time, I was first in line! And wow, they’re not playing cheap here even though this is free. I got dressed up in a fancy kimono, got to pose all over the special room, got a wig on, got dressed up in another fancy kimono, and overall really got to make the most out of this experience. I checked my camera; there are literally a hundred pictures on there! One hundred! Wow.

So that was a really fun activity and I’m really glad I came back for it. I got a castle parfait at the café (with peach, of course, I was surprised they even offered strawberry as a different choice), and then went back outside again. I think the festival had a stage for a Momotarou something or another, geesh…

I made my way back to the station, foregoing checking into my hotel as I had another destination in mind: nearby Kurashiki!

You might remember last year’s floodings which hit Japan hard. Kurashiki was one of the cities hit, and so we didn’t end up visiting despite how close it is. So now for a second attempt, I took the local train bound for Kurashiki, which took like fifteen minutes. Told you it was close, haha.

Kurashiki is mostly known for its Bikan historical area, which is the old merchant quarter from back when the city became a river port and was so important it was placed under direct control of the shogunate. Many of the buildings are 17th century style wooden warehouses, now filled with restaurants and shops for the most part. There are also some curious museums nearby. (There was also a little shop with a board outside for figure skater Daisuke Takahashi, and that’s how I found out that both he and Keiji Tanaka hail from Kurashiki, haha. The more you know!)

I mostly went for the views, which were definitely a treat once I found the Bikan historical area: the description ‘Venice of Japan’ is surprisingly apt. There are tourist boats going through the canal area and they’re beautifully framed by the willows here. It’s also apparently a very popular backdrop for cosplayers, since I saw a TON of people dressed up as their favourite characters and posing for pictures here, haha. Guess that’s what I get for going on a holiday. It was fun to see though!

Nearby was Ivy Square, also aptly named as it contains buildings overgrown with ivy. It was the area where the first modern cotton mill of Japan was built, and the company from back then is actually still active.

I only wandered around here for a short bit though, and then found one of the little museums I mentioned. I hopped into the Momotarou Karakuri museum! Yep, peach boy strikes again. Karakuri apparently refers to a type of doll, which I did indeed see here, but the museum itself as a strange mix between optical illusions and a museum of Momotarou memorabilia. Not the first combination I would have thought of myself, but the staff was enthusiastic and led me through the illusions (all Momotarou/peach themed of course), encouraging me to try them out and taking a picture with my head through a giant peach, so now I can pretend I’m Momotarou myself, haha. Granted, the illusions weren’t super new, but they were very open about that (‘trick first invented 150 years ago’ listed), and it was still fun going through them. Next was a delightfully trippy little maze full of ghosts and ogres, since Momotarou had gone on a quest to defeat the ogres after all. I got better scares out of this one than out of the self-proclaimed haunted house in Huis ten Bosch, Sasebo some years ago, haha.

I was then led upstairs, which was very interesting as this was the museum part, showcasing all knids of Momotarou goods dating back hundreds of years in some cases. There was also a little English book with the story on display, and apparently they made a Mickey Mouse set at one point with Donald, Goofy, and Chip and Dale as the animal companions, haha.

This was a nice little break. Parts of it were definitely aimed at kids, but that didn’t make it any less fun.

 I had another museum planned, but I was getting rather tired, so after a quick round on Ivy Square, I walked back to the station. This time just taking the main road, because I had tried to take the shopping street route on my way here, but I somehow managed to – uh, mess up on going right ahead and had to google Maps my way out, oops. So the walk back to the station was significantly shorter, ahem.

After a matcha latte at the station, I went back to Okayama and decided to reserve some tickets for trains. Of course I had to secure my one-way trip to Tokyo, as that one will take about 4 hours, yikes. I should arrive at Shinagawa station around 12:30 now, plus half an hour added to get to Ikebukuro, so at least that’s not the entire day wasted on trains, haha. Although the shinkansen are super nice. There’s enough space for me to put my luggage in front of me, although it can get a little cramped for hours on end.

And then my second ticket: tomorrow, to Matsuyama! This is also quite the trip, over 2.5 hours, but it’s just one train, so I can hop on, doze off, and hop out at the terminal station, haha. I wanted to visit Matsuyama last year, but due to the same floodings, it was impossible at the time. And so I wasn’t going to wait much longer and made it my first daytrip from Okayama this time.

Anyway, after checking in to my hotel, I went back to the station for dinner, lamented the fact that one of my favourite restaurants from last year was closed for renovations along with a big part of the food court, found a different restaurant, and promptly ordered their super cute Halloween plate, haha. And now I’m back at the hotel for tonight!

 I suspect my report and photos will be up a little late tomorrow, ahem. Have a good evening, see you!