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primedup · 23 days

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persephone

Breathe in, breathe out. Stay calm, Persephone, stay calm. All he did was hold your hand, it wasn’t that serious! He couldn’t possibly be into you, right? No, no, he’s too fair and popular for a classic girl like you, caught up in books and jazz. Then again I see him in the library all the time and at that café downtown.

That little coffee shop always has the nicest tunes. Not much for ‘modernity’, but for us young folk who like the ‘oldies’ it’s quite well. The ladies who work there are quite nice, too.

The middle-aged women who sit behind that counter, a nice dark-wooden countertop with red and black striped siding, matching the wallpaper, are all bookworms as well. Also, none of them understand when a young girl comes in here and orders a ‘double mocha cappuccino with more cino than cappa and an extra pump of vanilla and a splash of milk and, oh, put the coffee in last because it tastes better that way’.

Anyway, he goes there a lot, but he can’t possibly be interested in the same things as you with how much of a jock he is. I can’t imagine a high school athlete reading a book, especially with reading glasses.

Every time I see him, Ellis, cocky blonde side part and such smooth skin that any guy or gal could wish to have, I wonder if he’s more bookworm or athlete. He really seems like a nerd outside of school, as much as any nerd can be, but in school he’s the most masculine force of nature on the soccer field.

“The usual, hon’?”

Mildred, one of the ladies, calls to me. I completely forgot I was ordering a coffee!

“Oh,” I pushed a strand of hair that got loose from my curls back behind my ear, “Yeah.”

“And that’s it honey? Don’t wanna try a Cinnabon again?” She smirks at me. She knows the last time I tried a Cinnabon really was the last time, those things are way too sweet for me! I like sugar-y and cinnamon-y things as much as the next girl but my sweetness tolerance has really been slacking since I hit puberty. Don’t know what happened there.

“I’m sure you’re good, don’t wanna spit it out all over the floor again!”

“You got that right,” I say as she hands me my coffee, fast as if it was already pre-made for me, “Say, have you seen a tall blonde boy with big round reading glasses come around often?” She looks me in my face as the little bell on the door chimes.

“Well, take a gander, sweetheart.” She points to the boy who just entered, and speak of the Devil! I instantly become flustered and try not to turn around, knowing he’ll bring up that little moment we held hands walking out of the front of the school.

“Persephone! How are ya’?” He places his hand on my shoulder.

“Uh, good, I think,” I try to piece a sentence together, “And how are, uh, you?”

“I’m fine. Great actually! I’ve been wondering where you were though,” he chuckles, “Kinda just, y’know, ran off? Look I understand if you don’t feel the same about, uh, relationships or ‘date-rates’ or whatever, but y’know, I’m hoping you do ‘cause I like you.”

All I heard, or at least registered correctly in my brain was that last part.

Those words that he said hit me like a bag of bricks, or as bag of feathers that weighed as much as the bricks. I turn to face him, my face looked redder than a tomato.

“I, uh, I don’t know.” He could tell I was flustered. He looked around the café, turned to face me, and leaned in close.

I didn’t know what to do! I’ve never been in this situation before! No boy has ever kissed me. I felt my heart racing, it was Ellis after all, but I don’t think I could bring myself to do it. Not even if he likes books or jazz or old-timey fashion or coffee dates, but it’s too late to back out.

I pull away, late of course, and our lips were tied for a few seconds. Mildred made a shocked face and called to the ladies in the back on their lunch breaks, “She’s kissing a boy! She’s kissing a boy! How sweet is that?” Then the rest of the ladies, middle-aged and old came out and witnessed our lips leaving their grasp.

“Wow.” I say, Ellis and I holding each other close, “That was…” I look at the ladies behind the counter and I get lost in thought. Were they thinking of what their first kisses were like? They knew I had never kissed a boy before and maybe now this brought back some memories. Memories of how the kissed the maybe-nerdy-maybe-jock blonde casanova in their shared favorite coffee joint.

But then I snap back to now and out of my creative realm, “I think… Maybe I…” He looked into my eyes, “Was it bad? You can tell me, that was my first kiss so I don’t know–” I blurt out in the middle of his sentence, “That was your first kiss? I thought girls kissed you all the time! You’re so popular and strong and sweet and…”

I hear him chuckle, “No, well, they do, it’s just that, maybe, I don’t know, none of them are you like you?” “What do you mean?” He clears his throat, “They don’t like books or easy-listening music or have nice curly hair and an old-timey style. It’s really hot. Well, not hot per se, but, yeah, y’know what I mean.”

I couldn’t tell if it was me that was more flustered or him. Obviously, I am outwardly more flustered, but his internal self must be panicking right now.

“I thought you were into the hotties, not any classical gals like me.”

“No, I really like girls who are unique and aren’t on the latest trends, y’know?” He puts his hands on my waist as another song comes on. Most of the time it’s just repeats of the same 10 jazz instrumentals of popular songs, but this one was different. It was… romantic. We start to sway back-and-forth, as if were were waves on the warm open ocean. He initiates a slow dance, perfectly in tune with the feelings the songs over the little speaker in the ceiling gave out from the office in the back room.

“I think…” I shyly say.

“Yeah, sweetie?” He says, shyly, too.

“We’re together now, right?” I get closer to him, waiting for his response.

“Yeah. I guess we are.” He smiles, his pearly whites beaming, “I’m glad we are.”

Hello! My second post on here, it's obviously way longer than my first, but I thought I'd share this! It's just a short snippet I wrote last night, and I'm hoping to get some critique or other comments on it. Let me know what you think!

#writing #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #writeblr #writerscommunity #stories #romance

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demonangelgirl134 · 1 year

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Cinos the Hedgehog

One of the main villains in my main Sonic au "Freedom fighters from the hidden world" and the leader of the Dimension Jumpers

Name: Cinos (SIN-nohs)

Age: 17

Gender: male

Sexuality: straight

Location: Mobius: (dimension prime)

Place of birth: Mobius (dimension V)

Occupation: Villain

Favorite color: Green

Nationality: American

Species: hedgehog

Character trait: Evil

Voice actor: Aurelio Voltaire

Personality:

Snarky

Egotistical

Flirty

Ruthless

Rude

Deranged

Almost heartless

Merciless

Manipulative

Bossy

Doesn't care how many people he kills

Powers and abilities:

Dimension jumping

Telekinesis

Reality warping

Flight

Shape shifting

Holographic transmissioning

Demolecularization

Intangibility

Object animation

Teleportation

Super speed

Super strength

Shadow manipulation

Dead precipitation

Brainwashing

Chaos blast

Electrokinesis

Dream Manipulation

Mind control

Invulnerability

Accessories:

Derrange crystal

Limiter rings

Handplate on the left hand that reads "Experiment-001-Envious Z2-48"

Black Elbow-high Fingerless gloves over regular white gloves

White and blue high tops

Physical characteristics:

Has to wear limiter rings because he's overpowered and unstable like Shadow the hedgehog

Has a lot of the same powers as Infinite the Jackle, except way more powerful

Main source of power comes from the Derrange crystal that was forcefully implanted into his chest by Dr. Envious when he was young

Has sharp teeth

Eyes glow when he uses his powers

Gem glows when he uses his powers

Has a secret Handplate on the left hand that reads "Experiment-001-Envious Z2-48" that was forcefully bolted in by Dr. Envious that is always hidden by his gloves

The skin on his chest around his Derrange crystal is mostly scarring

Is an alternate counterpart of Sonic the hedgehog

Could drink 50 gallons of alcohol and not get drunk

Likes:

Seeing children cry

Pickpocketing

Dimension jumping

Causing chaos

Tripping people down stairs (especially elders)

Hurting those weaker than him

Stealing candy from babies for the fun of it

Ladies

Traveling to different dimensions

Anything with skulls

Anything evil

Power

Hurting animals

Working for those in power (only so he can backstab them and steal their power)

Getting people to like him, then backstabbing them

Noxious fumes

Arson

Dislikes:

Losing

Anything cute

When people are happy

Anything good

Jail

Baths

Stupidity

The color bright blue

Faults:

Doesn't care about anyone but himself

Only worries about the past

Fears:

Needles

Water (he's an alternate Sonic)

Losing power

Friends:

Dr. Eggman (temporarily)

Walter Naugus (temporarily)

Infinite the Jackle (temporarily)

Scourge the Hedgehog (temporarily)

Enemies:

Princess Serenade the hedgehog/alicorn

Sonic the Hedgehog

Tails the Fox

Shadow the hedgehog

Knuckles the Echidna

Silver the hedgehog

Scratch the Cyberchicken

Grounder the Swiss army robot

Coconuts the robot monkey

Decoe and Bocoe the Robots

Sleet the Wolf

Dingo the dingo

Lupe the Wolf

Robecca the Dingo

Orbot and Cubot

Metal sonic

Metal Serenade

Maria the Cyberchicken

Bokkun

Zonic the Zone cop

Family members:

Darkness the Hedgehog (triplet brother)

Haze the hedgehog (triplet sister)

Missing mother

Missing father

Backstory:

Cinos was born on Mobius Dimension V with his brother Dark and sister Haze. When he and his siblings were 5, they were kidnapped by the evil Dr. Envious and had all sorts of heinous experiments performed on them, mostly Cinos, like forcefully bolting metal tag plates into their hands, drugging them, shocking them with powerful energy surges, and forcefully implanting Derrange crystals into their chests. (Derrange crystals are dimension V's version of the chaos emeralds, except there are tons of them, unlike the prime dimension that only has 7 and their powers are more like the Phantom Ruby.) Since Cinos got most of the abuse, he became the most messed up out of the three, and the negative energy of the Derrange crystal affected his brain and turned him evil. Cinos and his siblings then escaped when they were twelve and began a villainous career throughout the multiverse from the negative energy from the Derrange crystals, never being caught by the Zone cops. Years later, he and his siblings were hired by Dr. Eggman as henchmen to capture the freedom fighters, and after a while of working for Eggman, he betrayed him and took over the Eggman empire, But got kicked into a vat of power-draining fluid by Sonic the hedgehog in an attempt to push HIM into the vat and lost his powers and was finally arrested

#sonic oc #my ocs #my art #oc bio #sonic ocs #oc biography #Cinos the hedgehog

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angelica-song · 2 years

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Time to relax with some decorating♡♡ Half-Deer created so many wonderful pieces in this month (the lanterns, the chairs, the panda light). I highly recommend checking them out inworld especially the lanterns, they are animated with pretty sparkles.

I love these drawers too by Ariskea, it's been resized in this pic a little so I can capture everything in frame. But I love the choice in pattern and colour, I think it matches so well. Not to mention their phone on the left side of the room is gorgeous sitting on Random Matter table.

I don't think my picture does a lot of the items enough justice though, such as the rice cooker and the 'MossBot' on the floor. These are a few other items that come scripted. The rice cooker can play music and can be held, the 'MossBot' is a roomba and can go around your room vacuuming the dust (it is by moss&mink).

You can find everything and more the credits below.

___________DECOR__________

@Collabor88 !NEW! [AD] DISORDERLY. / Dreamy Suite

@Okinawa Summer Festival !NEW! [AD] +Half-Deer+ Mystical Lantern FACS ~ Singing Ricecooker Set Cinoe feat. Tia Rungray - Ghostmarch

@Anthem !NEW! [AD] +Half-Deer+ Devon Armchair

@FLF Birthday Bash !NEW! [AD] +Half-Deer+ Kawaii Nightlight

@Kustom9 [North Oak] + Melva Living Room Mithral * Ficus Altissima Random Matter - Mystic's Corner Ariskea[Martine] Collection

@TMD Infinite - Taylor Bedroom

@equal10 Mithral * Ficus Elastica

OTHER [AD] +Half-Deer+ Floating Candle Boat [AD] +Half-Deer+ Macrame Wall Decor [AD] +Half-Deer+ Paper Forest Diorama {moss&mink} MossBot++ BROKEN ARROWS - Sun KraftWork Summer Breeze Soy. Wooden Beaded Curtain SAYO - Autumn Abode Gacha [Mamere] Fried crab claw [Mamere] Crab sushi [Mamere] Crab gratin Pixel Mode - Appreciation Award floorplan. bee diagram print Scarlet Creative Portland Small Home (tinted)

thank you all~ ♥

View On Flickr

#secondlife #second life #sl

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pacosemnoticias · 11 days

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PSP deteve cinco homens e apreende quase 370 quilos de haxixe

A PSP deteve cinco homens por tráfico de drogas e aprendeu quase 370 quilos de haxixe na zona de Lisboa e Algarve no âmbito de uma investigação que durava há cerca de um ano, indicou à Lusa aquele polícia.

Segundo o Comando Metropolitano de Lisboa da PSP, as detenções dos cinco homens, com idades entre 25 e os 60 anos, foram feitas através da esquadra de investigação criminal da divisão policial de Loures e do Grupo de Operações Especiais da Unidade Especial de Polícia.

A Polícia de Segurança Pública refere que estas detenções surgem no âmbito de uma investigação dirigida pelo Departamento de Investigação e Ação Penal (DIAP) de Loures que decorria há cerca de um ano, tendo sido dado cumprimento a sete mandados de busca domiciliária e quatro mandados de busca não Domiciliária nas zonas de Odivelas, Loures, Lisboa, Quarteira e Ericeira.

A PSP refere também que dois dos detidos de nacionalidade espanhola tinham mandados emitidos pelo país de origem para o cumprimento de cino e 15 anos de prisão efetiva pelos crimes de tráfico de droga.

Durante esta operação, a PSP apreendeu 732.000 doses individuais de haxixe, o equivalente a 366 quilos, 9,7 doses individuais de ectasy, 122.170 euros em notas, 18 telemóveis e três viaturas.

Os cinco detidos foram presentes ao juiz de instrução, tendo quatro ficado em prisão preventiva e um com termo de identidade e residência.

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soysaucevictim · 4 months

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I just watched/listened to Daniel Thrasher's "Igowallah". (Otherwise titled, "How rap sounds to non-english speakers".)

It got me thinking about music and linguistics shit.

On the one hand - this kinda makes me think of Adriano Celentano's "Prisencolinensinainciusol" and Neil Cicierega's "Word Disassociation" in that it's meant to be gibberish. Tho I think the fact Celentano had a bit more of "a point" since he was Italian (presumably ESL), making a song blending phonemes in how he crafted that song. Just to grab this blurb from the wiki article:

The song is intended to sound to its Italian audience as if it is sung in English spoken with an American accent, however the lyrics are deliberately unintelligible gibberish with the exception of the words "all right".[8][9]... Celentano's intention with the song was not to create a humorous novelty song but to explore communication barriers. The intent was to demonstrate how English sounds to people who do not understand the language proficiently. "Ever since I started singing, I was very influenced by American music and everything Americans did. So at a certain point, because I like American slang—which, for a singer, is much easier to sing than Italian—I thought that I would write a song which would only have as its theme the inability to communicate. And to do this, I had to write a song where the lyrics didn't mean anything."[6]

And Neil's song also has a lovely, vaguely "fluent aphasia" sort of feeling. But like. Some of the strange couplings of the nonsense strings of actual words conjure surreal as hell imagery. Like what the hell even is, "My elusive hula yellow sketching creamy helium gentlemanly communique"?? ?

I don't really know what was like, the artistic intent behind Thrasher's song here - besides some kinda of parody of rap. Which I guess is fine? It is kinda of interesting - in comparing it w/ Adriano and Neil.

I'm just kinda iffy about some folks just being snobs about rap in the comments of it, man. It feels like this veers a bit dangerously close to how White people can mock Chinese (and Cino-adjacent) speech. Just because of the, well, distinctly Black American roots hip hop has.

As someone who probably has mild language processing issues with lyrical content anyways (so i typically first pay attention to instrumental/production elements), but also enjoys hip hop regardless... people just going off abt how that's just what rap sounds like to English speakers. Just gives me a bit of the ick? (Especially with me realizing that maybe, just maybe, hating on disco being popular was at least partially fueled on by antiblack attitudes... sooo...)

Can't really glean or comment on intent here (not really that familiar w/ Thrasher as an entertainer, so I'm trying to be charitable) - just commenting on some of the feedback I've seen there. Also also, just as a bit of writing care (like in art, not like casual txt conversation) - it's worthwhile to check if a key-smash bit of gibberish isn't some kind of obscure slur in a different language, just as a show of good faith. Because man, this song almost sounded like it was at least flirting with that mistake. (Just an experience I've seen from the larger writing community on world-building stuff.)

Basically there are things I do legitimately enjoy about this song that I got recc'd. There's some fascinating linguistics and art philosophy conversations to be had here. But there's also a just some background reservations I just wanted to ramble about.

Idk if any of this makes much sense. But. Yeah. :,D

#long post/

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creativeprojectrhianna · 1 year

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Artist Research - Raoul Hausmann

Life -

Raoul Hausmann, (born July 12, 1886, Vienna, Austria—died February 1, 1971, Limoges, France), Austrian artist, a founder and central figure of the Dada movement in Berlin, who was known especially for his satirical photomontages and his provocative writing on art.

Hausmann was first exposed to art through his father, the painter and professional conservator Victor Hausmann. The family moved to Berlin in 1900, and in 1908 Hausmann began his formal training at Arthur Lewin-Funcke’s Atelier for Painting and Sculpture, where he focused on anatomy and nude drawing. Upon finishing at the atelier, Hausmann connected with the German Expressionist painters—in particular, Ludwig Meidner and Erich Heckel. He studied lithography and woodcutting under Heckel. He also began what would become a lifelong writing career, penning articles that decried the art establishment for journals such as Die Aktion and Herwarth Walden’s Der Sturm.

Hausmann was engaged in and loyal to Expressionism until 1917, when he met Richard Hülsenbeck, who introduced him to the principles and philosophy of Dada, a new visual and literary art movement that had already taken off in other cities in Europe. Dada artists and writers created provocative works that questioned capitalism and conformity, which they believed to be the fundamental motivations for the war that had just ended and left chaos and destruction in its wake. Along with Hülsenbeck, George Grosz, John Heartfield, Johannes Baader, and Wieland Herzfelde, Hausmann founded the Berlin Dada Club and, with Hülsenbeck, wrote a manifesto claiming that Dada was the first art movement that “no longer confront[ed] life aesthetically.” Hausmann also wrote a manifesto titled “The New Material in Painting,” in which he demanded an alternative to traditional oil paint. He later published the piece as Synthetisches Cino der Malerei (“Synthetic Cinema of Painting”). Both the anti-art Dada manifesto and Hausmann’s declaration on new media were recited before a riotous audience at the first event of the Berlin Dada Club, on April 12, 1918. The artists’ evening of performance and readings was staged at a meeting of the Berlin Sezession, a breakaway group of artists, including Lovis Corinth and Max Liebermann, still very much devoted to traditional art forms.

Work -

By 1918 Hausmann had already begun to work primarily in photomontage—composite collaged images made by juxtaposing and superimposing fragments of photos and text found in mass-media sources.

Between 1918 and 1920 Hausmann was also busy inventing other anti-art art forms, such as “optophonetic” and “poster” poems, both of which were made up of random letters strung together. The former were meant to be performed or read aloud; the latter were visual poems created as collages of typography. Two of his best-known works of this type are the poster poem OFFEAHBDC and the optophonetic poem OFFEAH (both 1918). Hausmann also created, as an offshoot of the collage and photomontage, assemblages of found materials, including arguably his most famous work, Mechanical Head: Spirit of Our Age (1919–20), a hairdresser’s wig dummy adorned with a tape measure, a wooden ruler, a tin cup, a spectacles case, a piece of metal, parts of a pocket watch, and pieces of a camera.

His photographs consist primarily of nudes, landscapes, and portraits. He also continued to write and publish regularly, sometimes in relation to his theories about the uses and possibilities of photography

Spain, in 1933. While in Spain Hausmann wrote about and photographed the country’s indigenous architecture and published his work in several French-language journals, including Oeuvres and Revue anthropologique. During that period, as a result of his ongoing research and interest in the relationship between the audible and the visual, he invented the “optophone,” a mechanism by which to convert visible forms into sound, for which he got a patent in 1935. At the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War in 1936, Hausmann and Mankiewitz left Spain, first stopping in Zürich and then going to Prague and Paris. Between the onset of World War II (1939) and the Allied invasion of France (1944), they lived in hiding in Peyrat-le-Château, France. They settled in Limoges in late 1944

In the late 1940s and the 1950s, Hausmann continued to pursue photography, exhibited often, and published articles on photography in journals such as A bis Z and Camera. He also published writings on his recollections of Dada, including an autobiographical volume called Courier Dada (1958). During that period and through the last two decades of his life, in addition to engaging in photography, he created photograms, recorded sound poetry, and returned to oil painting. His final piece of writing, Am Anfang war Dada (“At the Beginning Was Dada”), was published posthumously in 1972.

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marciamotivos · 2 years

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(vía Pegatina ''Cheerful cinema sticker Pack - Lovely cinema sticker Pack' de Marcia-Motivos)

He diseñado estos stickers con mucha ilusión, pensando en los amantes del cino, pensando en decirle te amo a esa persona especial, imaginando una noche de películas con mi amor. Creo que han quedado bellas y coloridas, también que serían un bonito obsequio o que quedarían muy bien adornando objetos de uso diario.

#findyourthing #redbubble #redbubblestickerpack #marcia motivos #cinema sticker pack #redbubble artist #colorful cinema stickers pack #i love you in 3d sticker pack #together for a cinema night #you are my cinema star #act like you don´t care #director chair #pop and cola sticker #3d lents sticker

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spamtonology · 2 years

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@cinos-m Another ask I got summed it up well that it really depends on context, especially context in the fanfiction. I don’t think he’d appreciate hugs randomly, but he would eventually warm up to it if he really trusts that person.

@firethekitty It’s okay, I understood what you meant anyhow. You are right about how some fanfiction makes him dependent on others and never being asked for his consent, that happens! On the Swatch and Addisons thing you’d be surprised however, I’ve seen quite a few examples of both myself.

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lieutenantbiscute · 1 year

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Mona and Y’Throvva are more than happy to say hi!! Donnie as well!! (He just might adopt him—) Rovva is especially happy if the little buddy will play chase with him and Cino!!

@tmntaucompetition

#Biscute answers

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condraws · 3 years

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draws for friends~ Vasquez belongs to @cino-checker, characters below belong to @pie-hell and @exile-wrath. the last two are Harlequin and Otto from red’s comic, the Grimoire of Harlequin Pines! it’s FANTASTIC, especially if you love modern supernatural, mystery, and lots and lots of tragicomedy

read it here, @grimoire-of-hp, or on tapas (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞

#others ocs #ghp #I LVOE THEEEMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM #ALL OF THEMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM #characters i'd give my life for in a second [gestures upwards].not you otto #[yes you otto]

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altamaranempire · 3 years

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A Compilation of Cinos the Anti-Sonic stuff I’ve drawn! (Believe it or not, Cinos -is- a ‘canon’ character in the sonic franchise, he’s just tucked away as a brief encounter in one of the many novellas.. In this case “Sonic the Hedgehog in the Fourth Dimension”.) This is just my fan interpretation on how he looks, and I definitely took some liberties! Mainly to make him more of an opposite foil to Sonic- What, I figured, would sonic never wear or do? Wear pants, since sega says he can’t wear pants I figured someone who actually ‘loses their cool’ and expressed visible anger would be a good start, especially as he’s referred to as a ‘ball of fury’. In the book, the rings are an attempt by the protags to inhibit the massive amount of negative chaos energy that Cinos is full of. Here I interpreted them as being a limiter on his power too, but specifically to stop him from burning out and depowering/reverting to a more default sonic-state. If he takes them off, it’s a sign that he’s willing to put everything on the line in order to turn you into a smear on the ground! ...The book sort of -vaguely- infers that Cinos might be luminous, so my take on ringless Cinos glows white from within. c:

#Cinos the Anti-Sonic #cinos #sonic the hedgehog #tails the fox #sonic the hedgehog in the fourth dimension #the rabbit isn't any specific character but I like to imagine it's an alt timeline johnny lightfoot #remind me to draw him powering down at some point since there's some cool writingabout how he flashes and marbles between blue and white

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bedbreakfastsouthampton · 3 years

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ertrunkenerwassergeist · 5 years

Text

Laying of the Cards

Here’s the Link to ao3!

After the fresh and biting cold winds outside the smoky air inside the kitchen of the small cottage that had been built many years ago at the edge of the village, caused Nyx' eyes to burn and his throat to itch. He blinked a few times to make out the other people in the room within the flickering light, the fire burning in the hearth the only source of light, their number higher than he had expected, considering what was to happen this evening.

There were seven people in the crammed room already, making the stuffy air even worse. Nyx felt his head swim at the smell of burning herbs and spices, wet fur, burning wood and unwashed bodies. The plumping had frozen about a week ago, causing some people to whisper that the white she-demon was wandering about again. In Nyx' opinion there would be a whole lot of frozen dead people right about now, if that were true, but he did the smart thing and kept his mouth shut. Let the people talk. That way they would have something to do over the winter that promised to be longer and harder than unusual.

He knew about half of the people here at least by face if not by name. The others were most likely either of the Watcher Clans or from one of the more western islands. The people there kept even more to themselves than the Galahkari did anyways.

Nyx lifted his dominant hand horizontally up to his collarbones in a general greeting, not really in the mood to more people than he absolutely had to. He should be at home right now with his mother and sister, helping to keep the house from cooling out or helping in the forge, seeing as that was the warmest place they had right now.

“Nyx,” he heard Crowe's voice from the corner to his right.

She, like everybody else safe for the mistress of the house and her apprentice, was still buried under thick layers of wool and furs against the freezing winter howling outside, battering the village with a gale of snow. Her cheeks were flushed from a mix of cold and the sudden heat in the kitchen but even then he could see her pallor underneath it. Despite her many layers of clothing he could see how tense she was.

“You too?” he said in a low voice when he stepped closer to her.

Crowe sent him a dark look. She wanted to be here as much as he was. Which was to say not at all.

Nevertheless he tugged at a strand on her long brown hair until she complied and leaned her forehead against his own. They stayed that way for the span of one breath before Crowe stepped away again. Nyx ignored the looks that action got him and grinned unabashedly at his friend. She huffed in fond exasperation, thankfulness lurking in the depth of her brown eyes. He wondered how the last week had been treating her. The heating at her place had always been shitty, but now it had to be even worse. Neither his mother or Selena would be upset if he were to invite her to stay for the rest of the winter. Another helping hand was always welcome, but she clearly wasn't in the mood to talk right now either, so he just stood next to her in companionable silence.

Sweat started to pool at the small of his back and formed beads along the arch of his brow. The stuffy and smoky air that smelled of burned herbs, was nigh unbearable. Nyx wanted very badly to open one of the windows to be able to breath, consequences be damned.

“You better not be doing that, boy. Elder Rhea will tan your hide if you take one step towards the windows, and she'll not be without help,” grumbled a burly man with a barrel chest and a deep voice that sounded like the rumble deep in the mountains.

“Chief Ostium,” Nyx greeted with a nod of respect that could be nearly taken as a bow.

“Cut that out, Ulric,” scowled the older man. His heavy brow, the thick beard and the long salt and pepper hair made it only more impressive. “You're a man grown now and a chief yourself. Start acting like it. People won't be as tolerant as they were when you were nine.”

Nyx resisted the urge to duck his head like a chastised boy, like he had done so often before, when this man had caught him and Libertus doing something stupid again. Murus Ostium nodded, his gold flecked blue eyes grew warmer as he patted Nyx' fur clad shoulder once. Unbidden, he felt himself stand up straighter despite Crowe's scoff. Murus didn't even spare her a glance.

“Come and greet Elder Rhea. No need to be impolite to an Aware One in her own home.”

With that he guided Nyx away from Crowe, whose eyes flashed with an old hurt Nyx would have loved to soothe, if he only knew how to. Libertus and him had met her too late for that.

Elder Rhea Etas stood by the hearth, bowed over an earthen bowl filled with smoldering sage, roasting cino nuts and druhm roots standing on a cooking grate. She hummed a tuneless melody while her gnarly fingers rummaged through the pockets of her layered wool dress. Her smile showed her crooked teeth and deepened her wrinkles when she saw them approaching. Or rather him being pushed by the older chief.

“Ah, Chief Ulric. Welcome to my home. May the fires warm you and the white she-demon not steal you or your loved ones during the night.”

Nyx made himself answer that smile as he crossed his wrists in the traditional greeting. “Thank you for letting me step into the light of your hearth. May it keep you warm during long nights and dark days.” The smell coming from the earthen bowl over the fire brought tears into his eyes and made him want to gag. He swallowed dryly. It made it only worse.

“Take a seat, young Chief and take part in the meal. Soon we will begin.”

The young man nodded and forced his questions down. He had no idea why he had been invited to a flow laying of all things. They were for people with power, influence important destinies – mystic heroes during times of old - and while he wished he could be someone like that, he doubted that he was such a person now. Some of the other participants also didn't make a lick of sense to him.

A young man, clearly of the Lazarus Clan with his blond hair and pale skin, sat at the table and frowned into a steaming cup. Nyx' eyebrows shot up in surprise. The Lazarus' seldom came out of their little conclave in Tenebrae. Especially after they had brought news of Tenebrae's conclusive conquest by Nifelheim and their slaying of the Oracle a few years ago. Next to him sat a woman he didn't know with sandy brown hair twisted into thick braids that wound around her head like a crown. A bit ostentatious in his opinion, but who was he to judge another clan's braids? She was talking to Elder Istoria Patientia, one of the few people he knew from the westernmost islands, who sat at one end of the table. The old woman had made it her mission to travel all over Galahd to keep the stories alive and well, as she said.

Nyx finally shed his furs and the outer layers of his clothing until he was down to a knitted jumper, his mother had made for him, his pants and his boots, and carefully laid it all over the back of the chair across from the Lazarus Clan member that had to be around his age. Him, Crow and Nyx were clearly the youngest people here. Now the heat in the room wasn't as oppressive and he could breathe a bit easier. Crowe claimed the chair to his left, looking even more uncomfortable than she had when he had come in. She was the first Nameless One to take part in a flow laying in a few hundred years.

At last he had stories to tell him what to expect from this. Ulrics had been part of this every few generations since the Clan had been founded. But her...

The leaden wight in his gut only grew, so he went straight for the fumir and also poured his best friend a cup of the steaming beverage. Without saying a word they drank a deep gulp. It nearly scorched his tongue and the stronger than expected spices made him blink the tears from his eyes before some of the other people in the room noticed. Crowe sent him an amused smirk, the traitor.

“Don't worry too much about it,” he whispered, leaning towards her, “The stories say that all you have to do is sit still and watch. The Aware One will do everything else.”

“Well, it's not like you have ever been to something like this either,” she hissed back, clearly agitated over her own ignorance.

The sound of a door opening and closing made them and the other people in the kitchen go silent and look up. Elder Rhea's apprentice, whose name he didn't know, flushed red in embarrassment at the attention she received. She carried a heavy looking wooden box in her arms. It was covered in elaborate carvings of the Galahdian jungle and the sea and was around one and a half handspans high and two long. She carefully set it down at the end of the table where two empty chairs stood and sat down on one of them.

The other guests also settled down, the plate in the middle of the table that had been stacked full of nuts and dried meats now empty, and a tense silence settling over the group. For a short moment Nyx let his eyes wander. Everybody seemed to be as tense as he was despite their best efforts to hide it. The young hunter could practically smell the nervousness in the air.

Finally Elder Rhea stepped away from the bowl over the hearth. Nyx followed her every move with keen eyes as her gnarly fingers opened the box, its well oiled hinges not making a single sound. Within, he knew, lay the cards with which this game would be played, even if it was a game in name only and that, too, just barely.

The fire crackled ominously as she pulled a surprisingly large stack of cards out of the box. All of them were made of thin wooden plates the length of his hand, one side painted in vibrant colours, the other bare. Some of the cards were older than Galahd, his mother had said, while others were as young as to have been made only a few years ago. The river was forever in flux and so cards came and went.

On his left Crowe was gripping her cup so hard he feared she would break it. He took another fortifying gulp from his own. The spicy alcohol spread its warmth quickly and made his face flush even more.

Elder Rhea put the cards into two neat stacks, face down. Her apprentice pulled out a pen and a stiff sheet of paper, her chair the one furthest away from the table. Nyx assumed she wouldn't take part in the game then.

“Thank you all for following my call. Strange things are afoot. This winter is far colder than many of its precursors. The magicks are restless and unsettled and all of you gathered here have to play a part in what is to come.”

Another short silence followed. Nyx shared one last glance with Crowe. Then, without further ado, the Elder picked up the first card from the stack closest to her and laid it on the table with an audible click. Nyx stared at the image. The only clear features he could discern were a pair of sickly yellow eyes on black and a too wide grin full of sharp teeth. The rest was hidden behind a screen of smoky grey, but he thought he could see the black spots of scourge marring a human face. The card practically oozed savage satisfaction and a sick desire for blood and vengeance that made something within Nyx bristle in defense. He shook his head. The alcohol must be getting to his head already.

“The Herald of the Starscourge,” muttered Elder Rhea just loud enough for all to hear.

Nyx couldn't tear his eyes away from it but he could still hear the hissed breaths the others took. The Starscourge cropped up on their isles every few years. Just a few cases, mind, but still enough for all Galahkari to learn what to do if one were to meet one of the scourge-sick. Which, in essence, boiled down to giving them a quick and painless death.

He wondered if there would be another outbreak, worse than there had been for many generations. Nyx had heard of the rising numbers of scourge-sick on the mainland, which was not only, but in part, because the last Oracle had been slain by the Nifelheimr Empire.

“He is the one who will put what is to come in motion, who will guide a great number of the players involved. With or without them knowing has no bearing upon it.”

A second card was picked up and gently laid down next to the first. This one depicted a softly glowing crystal in the form of a heart, wrapped in chains.

“The Chained Heart,” Elder Rhea said, her eyebrows raised in something resembling astonishment. “An opponent to the Herald but not an enemy. At least part of their goals align and lead towards the same outcome.”

The third card was laid horizontally across the first two. It showed a figure all of them knew and none of them liked.

Bahamut.

Self proclaimed King of the Astrals and all around pain in the ass. His tries to conquer them through the Kingdom of Lucis had made the Galahkari hate him even more than they already had after the Astral War. Nyx had to suppress the irrational urge to bare his teeth at the card.

“King of the Sword, Bahamut. Master of the actions taken by the Herald and the Chained Heart. What his own agendas are remains murky in the flow.”

Elder Rhea reached for the first stack again – Nyx wondered what the second was for – to pick up the third card in the laying but then something happened. Later Nyx couldn't say what it had been and neither could any of the other attendees he had asked afterwards. Maybe it had been a slight of hand, maybe a slip of old and tiring fingers, maybe her apprentice had jostled her as she wrote down what had already been laid out. Whatever the case, the intended card flew from her hand and slid over the edge of the table where it landed face down in a loud clatter of wood on wood. Instead another was shown.

The wooden card clattered onto the table, out of order and too far to the left, the sound reverberating through the smoke filled room like gun shots. It did so with a wight that couldn't be natural. For a moment none of the participants sitting around the table moved. Nyx felt his muscles tense up and the fine hairs on his neck stand on end as Elder Rhea leaned towards the fallen card, the beads of her gently swinging braids clinking against each other.

“The Black Ships,” she whispered hoarsely into the deathly silence.

Nyx felt lightheaded as his blood fled from his head. Suddenly any influence, the alcohol may have had, vanished. He looked at the Lazarus across from him, who sat head bowed and clenched fists trembling. The card of the Black Ships laid nearest to him. Their black sails and hulking hulls promising death and suffering.

The gisdrauhti said this card had come into existence when the Conqueror King of Lucis had come to take their lands in the name of his patron God. It was one of those stories that had scared him witless as a young child, but he had only understood it as he had grown into his teenage years. The Black Ships only represented bloody invasion, death and pain and deep sorrow, that would be remembered until the end of their days for his people.

A thin and calloused hand clutched his in a death grip under the table.

The near silent clinking of wood against wood made him look towards the Elder who picked up a new card, from the second stack this time he noted, with trembling fingers. Her mouth was pressed into a bloodless line. She seemed to stare into thin air for a few moments as all others, including Nyx, held their breath. The grip on his hand grew even tighter. His own grip was just as strong.

Gently, Elder Rhea laid it down in front of the Lazarus. Nyx could practically see the relief wafting off of the blond. Leaning forward, he breathed a tremendous sigh of relief himself in tandem with Murus Ostium next to him.

There, facing the Black Ships that sailed in a stormy sea, was the Watcher of the Hunt.

They would be warned.

Thank the ancestors and the spirits of the jungle.

They would be warned.

“Thank ahtrii,” whispered someone across the table. Nyx didn't know who it had been. Nor did he care.

“It seems we have much to prepare for. Dire times lie ahead of us. Dire times, indeed. What needs to be determined now is what role each of you will play in what is to come,” said Elder Rhea, her normally calm voice a tight curl of tension Nyx had never heard before.

More cards were laid out. This time in front of the people sitting around the table.

Orfefs, Father of the Hunt.

The woman with the braids wrapped around her head.

Priestess of Fire.

Elder Istoria Patientia.

Witch of the Hunt.

Crowe the Nameless.

Mage of the Wilderness.

Himself.

Wall of the Wooden Throne.

Murus Ostium.

Ship of the Hunt.

The man with red hair and Solheimr golden eyes that hadn't said a word until now.

Nyx had no idea what any of this meant but when he looked down at the card in front of him, at the man with the coeurl eyes, the wild grin, naked, safe for the white fur wrapped around him, he couldn't help but feel a rightness that scared him down to his core.

#ffxv #the games we play au #nyx ulric #galahdian culture #crowe nameless #rhea etas #murus ostium #galahdian clans #flow laying #my name for my fantasy tarot #bad things are on the horizon #be prepared galahd #has shiva something to do with the cold winter?#maybe?#galahdians call her the white she-demon #they don't like her #duh #the spirit writes #my fics

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