#biot writes
Text
Title: Blind Date
Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Y'shtola Rhul, Y'mhitra Rhul, Ryssthota Sundstyrwyn, Apple Silverberg, Ement Vauban, Thancred Waters
Summary: Zoissette and Y'shtola find themselves being roped into a blind date by their very well-meaning friends.
Notes: August YOTP entry - Blind Date
Y’shtola picked up and examined the glasses carefully.
She had not been able to get to them as fast as she had liked, but with matters in the Thirteenth now well in hand, and her friend on their way to recovery, well. She now had time and means both at her disposal. Working on the glasses, restoring them to full use, would give her something to do in between writing reports on her experiences.
She examined them carefully, to gauge the work that would now lay before her.
It was to be a matter that was going to be more difficult than she had first surmised.
Fortunately, the glasses were not needed for corrective means, and so Zoissette would not be left blind while they were being repaired. That was where the good fortune in the matter ended, however. The glasses were special, and not as some mere fashion item. They had been carefully made, and then laden with a great many enchantments, many of which were tied to Zoissette’s aether, or had been instilled using formulae and techniques which were yet unknown to Y’shtola.
A challenge, but one that was not beyond Y’shtola’s unique qualifications. Even if she did not know some of Zoissette’s magical specialties to any depth, she was a master of aether itself, and could fair see the weavings of magicks deeply embedded into the lenses and frame. She could not replicate many of the magicks, but with care and diligence, she could shift them and restore them whole.
She turned the glasses over in her hands. The frame was salvageable, but would need a hinge replaced, and the metal carefully refurbished. One lens was intact, which was well. It would inform her approach to replacing the other, which was broken, the only remaining part being a large shard that stubbornly remained attached to the frame. The nose pieces, too, were more than just functional, and carried some magical energies that would need to be handled. Unfortunately, they had been partially melted in the laboratory fire, and would need to be replaced.
What had initially seemed to perhaps be merely an afternoon of due diligence was now looking to perhaps be a larger project, but it was of no matter. Zoissette would certainly not need them for many moons, and so Y’shtola had time. She would shift her focus between this project and the reports she had promised to make, and finish both with her usual aplomb.
She smiled to herself. This challenge was one she would overcome.
~*~
Zoissette was keeping herself busy.
As she worked, she reminded herself. Failure was not an option. Right.
It was a saying her old mentor was very fond of. Failure was not an option, he would say. Failure was mandatory, he would repeat, and often. The option, he opined, was in how one faced it.
It was well that such lessons were drilled into her early, with every hefting of her shield and every arc of her sword, every drill, every session. Otherwise, she would probably find her long string of failures even more distressing than they already were.
Like her most recent failure. With Mathye.
The ending of their courtship was almost certainly a good thing. She had tried, and she had failed. Love was supposed to grow where you watered it, so old Ishgardian wisdom went, and she had tried so very hard.
But in the end, that garden had lay fallow. She was willing to keep trying, as long as it took. He deserved it, and she could have made it work, she was certain.
But then all at once, all of a sudden, she realised she might already have a love.
She was not certain, but she had to be honest with him.
And so she was.
And so it hurt.
They had broken it off, and he was hurt, and she was the one who had hurt him, and that was frankly the worst part of the whole affair.
And so, now she distracted herself. Kept herself busy. Long hours in the vehicle bay. Consulting hours with those who wished an able adventurer to help them with their troubles. Anything that kept her out of Mathye’s way.
She had weathered many failures in her summers on the star. This, too, she would overcome.
~*~
Y’mhitra happily wiled her time with her friends in the Gage Acquisitions laboratory. Ryss was a good sort and an accomplished scientist, and Apple and her had a shared history of being among the privileged few who delved deep into Allagan ruins. They had caught one another up on various experiments they had running, Apple’s recent misadventures, Ryss’ good natured exasperation at her friends, and the conversation had turned from the scientific now to the more personal matters the three were dealing with. Apple was still in recovery, and Ryss was in between projects and thinking about what to do next.
“How’s Y’shtola?” asked Apple. “I feel as though I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“Last I saw her, she was still writing up reports for the Forum regarding that misadventure in the Thirteenth.”
“And what an adventure it was!” said Ryss with a grin. “But all’s well that ends well, right? Can’t wait to apply everything we’ve learned. What a trip! I have so many ideas, I can hardly pick just one to work on.”
“And I think research into the Voidsent phenomena may help me with my condition,” said Apple. “It’s fascinating, really, how the people on the Thirteenth get along - what few that are left. I hope to get more chances to talk with Zero in the future.”
“And what about the rest of your little group here at Gage? Where is Zoissette?” Y’mhitra asked, taking a tart for herself.
Apple turned the faintest shade of red while Ryss shook her head with a laugh. “Oh, broken up over breaking up with Mathye. She’s burying herself in the vehicle bay these days when she can’t find someone else’s problems to stick her nose into.”
Y’mhitra raised an eyebrow.
“And how recent is this bit of news?”
“Been a bit. Sennights going into moons. Apparently she walked into the dining room when it happened, made a big announcement, then ran right back out. I swear, my girl doesn’t know how to do anything by half measures.”
“She’s been working a lot,” said Apple. “I kind of feel bad for her, but I’m not sure how to help.”
Y’mhitra sat her tart back down, as an idea formed in her mind, and she looked conspiratorially between her fellow sisters of science.
“Oh, I think I might have an idea,” she said, and she could not help but allow herself a bit of a wicked grin.
~*~
The glass turned out to be a key piece of the puzzle before her. She could not just source ordinary glass. It was a remarkable material that Zoissette had puzzled out, glass that was transparent but could be laden down with so much aether to support so many enchantments. It was more artifact than eyewear, puissant in its own right.
Fascinating. Her most powerful piece of adventuring gear, and it might not have been weapon or armor, but rather the way she looked at the world through these glasses. Zoissette was a marvel. Y’shtola smiled faintly to herself as she carefully set the glass into the refurbished frame. She squinted, and her fingers played in the air as she gently encouraged lines of aether to connect to this new piece, convincing the glasses that the new lens had been part of it all along.
She sat back, satisfied, and checked the chronometer. She had half a bell to spare before she had to be at the Last Stand. A lunch meetup that her sister had invited her and Thancred to. She sighed. It was enough time to get ready, but only just.
She was on time, of course. Y’shtola was ever a woman of culture, and fashionably late was a habit she did not nurture if she could help it. She had nothing to prove, after all, and she hoped others respected her time as much as she respected theirs. She found the two, placed their orders, and soon enough they were swapping stories and sharing food.
Y’shtola was pleased. Everyone was in high spirits, in the wake of all that had happened. Thancred had been keeping himself busy, of course, and while he tried to downplay the extent of his travails, she could tell he was pleased with the results of what he had been looking into. Y’mhitra, of course, pressed her for details about her time on the Thirteenth, and oddly, for once, was not prying too much into her personal life.
At least, not at first.
“So, sister mine,” said Y’mhitra conversationally as she poured Y’shtola another cup of tea, “I cannot help but notice that you continue on your trend of being in impossible situations facing unfathomable danger.”
She held a hand up before Y’shtola could offer a rebuttal. “And the star is ever better for it. I wonder, however, if you might not consider my words once more. This latest to hear you describe it was a frightful affair. And in your own words, no less! I am certain you are downplaying certain risks when they might paint you in unflattering light.”
Y’shtola inclined her head at her sister. “I assure you my recounting is ever accurate.”
“Perhaps so. But might you once more consider the advantages of sharing your considerable strength with another? I certainly would feel better knowing someone is looking after you in all the ways you yet refuse to look after yourself. I know you are strong, and you need not have me tell you so. But as the threats you face seem to grow ever greater, I wish you would join your strength with another.”
“A singular argument you oft have returned to over these many years, Mhitra.”
“In much the same way you keep being drawn to such great troubles, Shtola.”
Y’shtola stirred her tea thoughtfully for a moment, as she pondered her sisters’ words. Thancred for his part seemed to be staying out of it, politely drinking his ale and conveniently hiding his face behind the brim of his mug at the same time.
But at last, she set her cup down, to look her sister in the eye.
“…you are not wholly wrong,” she admitted.
Y’mhitra blinked, and Y’shtola resisted the urge to smirk at her sister’s surprise. “There is someone, then?”
“Many someones, if you must know,” said Y’shtola. She sighed, and waved a hand at Y’mhitra’s disappointed expression. “’Tis not what you meant, I know. But whilst I continue to keep my own counsel, I do find myself more often heeding the counsel of others these days. And you were right, though perhaps not in the way you meant. What I mean is… that I have learned. To share my strength, as you say. And to accept strength in return.”
She looked down into her cup and smiled at the many memories. “I feel that it was on the First that I truly learned what it was to be part of a community, to share and share strength alike - and more. I recognize now, that before, I ever kept myself at arm’s length, isolated from my fellow Scions. But after, well. Separated by the rift though I am from that clan, I fair feel our bonds are ever intact. Hence my efforts to find a way back, to keep a promise I made. And my bonds with my fellow Scions are so ever stronger for the lesson.”
Y’shtola held her cup up to Thancred in salute, and he bowed his head and held his mug up in return.
“These bond are made ever stronger in our travails. I would lean on any one of them as I would myself, and you are right. We are stronger for it.”
Y’shtola thought of Zoissette, and felt herself smile. “And others, aside. I am in good enough company, sister.”
Y’mhitra sighed. “That is all well and good, and it does truly reassure me to hear this change in you. But still. I wish you would find a partner. Someone who does not just shares their strength with you, but complements you. Someone with who perhaps you would find the sum to be greater than its parts. Someone special. Thancred, you agree with me, right?”
Thancred had been watching the exchange between the sisters with fascinated interest, but Y’mhitra caught him while he was taking another pull off his ale, and he near choked on it. Y’shtola raised an eyebrow at him as he spent some few moments coughing and spluttering before he cleared his throat
“Ah, I think you may have mistaken your choice of ally in this fight, Y’mhitra, and I believe I will be finding myself staying well out of it. Y’shtola shall do as she wills, and none can convince her otherwise. I know I won’t try to do so, as I rather enjoy having all my bits attached.”
Y’shtola looked to Y’mhitra, tilting her head at her.
“Unlike you to miscalculate so badly, dear sister,” she said. “What are you playing at?”
Y’mhitra looked desperately at Thancred, but he just shook his head. She slumped, and Y’shtola laughed at her sister’s misfortune.
“Or perhaps I have overestimated,” said Y’shtola. “Well. ’Tis of no matter. This has been a most pleasant afternoon, but I find I wish to return to my work. If you both will excuse me.”
Y’shtola placed enough Gil on the table to cover her costs, before giving the table a wave as she left. Y’mhitra looked after her, dismayed, while Thancred looked on, rather more amused.
However, once she passed out of sight, Y’mhitra turned to Thancred with a faint smile.
“Thanks for the help,” she said.
“Don’t mention it,” he said, picking up his ale once more. “Seriously, don’t, I could deal without her being mad about it later if she ever finds out about this little ruse.”
“Have to give her a victory or else she’ll get too stubborn to overcome,” said Y’mhitra, standing up and cleaning up after herself. “She really has changed over the summers, hasn’t she?”
Thancred shrugged. “We all have. I guess maybe I hadn’t noticed as much as I might, being right there alongside her for much of it… but now that it’s been pointed out rather explicitly, yes, I suppose what she said is true. I think she’s definitely more open than she used to be. Definitely closer with some of us. Not like that, though, before you get any ideas.”
“I have a rather specific idea, thank you very much. Still. This is a good start.”
“Think it’ll work?” asked Thancred.
Y’mhitra just smiled.
~*~
Zoissette was busy in the vehicle bay, plotting launch schedules and scheduling time for making more components on the fabricator. She could hear the comings and goings of others, but mostly ignored them. If someone wanted her attention, she would make time for them, but for now, her work was a pleasant enough distraction.
A loud boisterous voice called out from behind her.
“Hoi, Zoi!” it bellowed.
“Hullo, Ryss,” said Zoissette, not yet fully paying attention. She reached up to try to tap the rim of her glasses, but stopped her hand in time before she had a chance to thwap herself in the nose yet again. Not having them was taking some getting used to, but replacing them was going to be a project in and of itself.
She should finally buckle down and do that.
While she was musing, Ryss had come to hover nearby, looking over her shoulder. “Hey, got a moment?”
Zoissette looked over the console. Well, nothing was very urgent.
“Sure, Ryss. What is on your mind?”
Ryss looked at her thoughtfully, rubbing her chin.
“You’ve been keeping yourself awful busy lately.”
“There is an awful lot to do.”
“There’s -always- an awful lot to do, and you’ve been trying to do it all ever since you broke up with Mathye.”
Ryss had never been one to beat around the proverbial bush. Zoissette grimaced, and turned back to the vehicle control console.
“Girl, I’m not saying you have to get over him immediately, but you don’t have to keep beating yourself up about it, either.”
“I am not ‘beating myself up’,” said Zoissette.
Ryss let the silence stretch for a bit.
“You said you were in love with someone else,” she ventured.
“I said I thought I was in love with another. I say a lot of stupid things.”
“Now you’re definitely beating yourself up.”
Zoissette just looked askance at Ryss.
“Alright, fine, I’ll bite,” said Ryss. “Why d’you think it’s stupid?”
Zoissette fell silent, letting her fingers dance over the console controls. Ryss patiently allowed the silence to settle in for as long as it would take, and Zoissette at last turned the machine off. She turned to her friend, and looked up at her for a moment, before turning away again.
“Ryss,” she said quietly, looking at the floor, “I am not even sure I know what love is.”
“Oh, Zoi,” began Ryss.
“No, I am serious, Ryss. I understand what lust is well enough, I understand what the rush of hormones feels like, but that - I do not think that is love, that is just, well, a desire to swive, and fades fast. So that is not it. And I have read the storytales, of love fathoms deep, of a deep abiding desire or draw or … something. Of people saying things like, like, they would die for one another. Is that love? If so, then I love pretty much everyone. I would die for any one of you, Ryss, but that seems too easy, too… well. That is just the duty of a knight.”
“Maybe the duty of a knight is to love the world,” said Ryss mildly.
Zoissette paused.
“I think about that a lot, and have reached the same conclusion,” she said. ”But that is not the kind of love one builds a bonding out of. I just do not know. I … I remember, being told as a child, that love would grow where you tended it, like a garden. But do you know how many seeds I have planted? Relationships begun, and tended to, waiting for that love to grow. Hoping desperately for it to grow. To feel whatever it is that everyone else is feeling. To be something for someone like that.”
Zoissette threw her hands out to the side. “And I like plenty of people, Ryss, but like is not love, and I do not know what I am doing wrong, and I certainly do not know why I said such a foolish thing. I … I could have made it work. I should have been able to make it work! Mathye is a good man. And even without love, I would have been a good partner, and maybe we could have grown a love eventually.”
“And instead you’re down here in the vehicle bay punishing yourself for not being able to meet some metaphor that you don’t even know is right?”
“And instead I am down here in the vehicle bay where I can at least be useful in a way that makes sense and can be measured. Quantified.” said Zoissette.
“Hey. Hey. Look at me, girlfriend.”
Zoissette did not turn her head, but her eyes did find their way to Ryss’ face, which was good enough.
Ryss rested a hand on her shoulder. “You say you don’t know what love is, but I’m willing to bet you do. You just haven’t figured it out for yourself yet, but you’re smart like that. Never rushing into stuff before it’s time. But I gotta ask, how are you going to figure it out like this from down here?”
She smiled at her. “So you said you might love someone else. Wouldn’t it be worth finding out for sure?”
Zoissette did not respond immediately. But after a moment, there was a small smile on her face, a genuine smile.
She seemed to have more of those these days, despite everything.
“Maybe,” she said.
“Good enough for me,” said Ryss. “Hey, we can talk more about it later, alright? Wanna do lunch later?”
“Sure,” said Zoissette, powering the vehicle control console back on. Ryss took the hint, and waved as she headed out of the workshop.
~*~
Ryss and Apple met Y’mhitra and Thancred at a small eatery in New Gridania.
“I really wish I was not part of this little conspiracy,” groused Thancred.
“Rather too late for it now; you’re trapped,” said Y’mhitra, winking at him. He just groaned in response. “How did it go with you two?”
“I think she’ll be open to the idea,” said Ryss. “Just gotta arrange things so she doesn’t have a good reason to say no.”
Apple nodded thoughtfully. “If we can figure out a place, we can pick a time, and I can tie up the fabricator. They both spent a lot of time in Limsa, it’s very important to all of us. I’m thinking the Bismarck, or maybe the Missing Member - their chef won that one competition a few years back, right? Should be just as good if not better!”
Ryss shook her head. “Not the Missing Member. That particular cook you’re thinking of went on a star tour and I don’t think he’s returned yet.”
“Bismarck, then,” said Apple, looking thoughtful. “I’ll check their bookings and get back to you.”
“What about your side?” asked Ryss.
“She thinks she’s won the first round,” said Y’mhitra. “It’ll just be a matter of convincing her when the time comes. She certainly seems to have enough time on her hands, if I can just convince her to walk away from the Forum for a bit. And whatever mystery hobby project she’s up to.”
“I can help there,” volunteered Thancred. “It’s not any real mystery, you just don’t recognize what she’s working on. She’s fixing Zoissette’s glasses.”
“Oh, that sure is nice of her!” said Apple. “Zoissette keeps hitting herself in the nose.”
Y’mhitra looked at her questioningly, but Ryss responded. “Zoissette keeps the things loaded down with enough enchantments to choke a three-headed goobbue.”
“Well, in any case, I think this all bodes rather well for your scheming,” said Thancred.
“Indeed,” said Y’mhitra. “Well, once Apple gets us some dates, I think we can move to the next phase of our plan.”
“This is still rather too much cloak and dagger for my taste,” said Thancred.
“That’s rich, coming from you,” said Y’mhitra.
Ryss waved her hands. “Now, now. If those two had any chance of figuring this out themselves, they would’ve done so by now. We’re just letting out the sails a little to help them get out of their own way, that’s all.”
Thancred just shrugged, and Y’mhitra nodded. “Well. I think we know what each of us needs to do. Keep one another posted.”
“Right.” “Okay!” “Sure.”
Their conversation moved on to other topics while they continued their lunch.
~*~
She had already known that moving the enchantments over to encompass the new lens was going to be difficult, but even in that, it seemed that she had underestimated the work, and underestimated Zoissette, and possibly even overestimated her own capabilities.
Her unique sight gave her a special insight into aether, it was true, but the magicks woven throughout the glasses could not be explained by mere aetheric observation alone. The intricate weaving spoke to Zoissette’s deep mastery of Nymian mathematics and beyond. Feedback loops, unusual geometries, all leading to complex and deep combinatorics.
She practically had to move the spell works over mote by minute aetheric mote, checking as she went along, making sure nothing was lost.
A puzzle. A challenge.
It would be worthwhile, she decided, to make this a gift unto her friend.
A knock at the door went ignored. But as it persisted, she sighed. “You may enter,” she called out, setting the glasses down for a moment. She could probably use a break, anyroad, if she were honest with herself.
She smiled at Y’mhitra as her sister walked in. “Did we not have lunch a mere sennight ago? I was not aware you found me such good company. I promise I have not found any trouble in such a short span.”
“You are trouble enough left to your own devices, I should think. Thancred tells me you’ve barely left this room.”
“My report to the Forum must needs be exacting. I shall leave out no detail, no matter how minor I may think it. For if travel between the shards is to one day become a reality, then we would all do well to face it with as much preparation and knowledge as we can muster.”
“And I don’t disagree, but this can’t be good for you. All work and no play makes my sister an isolated old hermit rather too much like her former master.”
“I would hear you say that to her yourself.”
“I think not! Still. I think you could tolerate a day off from this drudgery. A day off, and around people, not mammets and books. What say you, Shtola?”
Well, she had been working fair hard for some days. And indeed, she was not quite sure when she had last sought company. Surely more recently than last sennight’s luncheon.
Maybe not.
“Let us say that I agree with you. Whatsoever are you planning?”
“Well… I was thinking … maybe you could go out on a date.”
Y’shtola looked at her sister incredulously. “Again with this? But my my, what an imagination you have if you think I have any potential candidates for such just now. Or have the rumors of supposed flirtations with voidsent fully taken on such life of their own as to reach my sister’s ears?”
“A blind date.”
At this, Y’shtola felt her expression and ears go flat.
“Certainly not.”
“Oh, come on, Shtola. Might be fun.”
“And whomst have you picked out for me?”
Y’mhitra just smiled at her, and Y’shtola shook her head. “You are still yet young to be able to still entertain such flights of fancy. I am rather busy, and I think I shall not be making time in my schedule for such frivolity.”
“Frivolity is the point, Y’shtola. Get out. Have some fun. Entertain a new face. Practice your famously sharp wit on them, I know that is a favourite pastime of yours. A decent night out, perhaps get a good meal out of it, have a good time, and for the love of the gods, actually get out of your room for a reason besides flinging yourself bodily into harm once more.”
“I think too much more of this conversation and I shall be flinging myself heartily back into my work.”
Y’mhitra tapped her knuckles against her chin, tilting her head as she looked thoughtfully at Y’shtola.
“I’ll make you a deal.”
“I am certain you have naught with which to bargain.”
“Do this for me, and I’ll leave you alone for a season.”
“As though you can resist the urge to meddle in my affairs.”
“Y’shtola,” said Y’mhitra, and Y’shtola took notice of the sudden change in formality. “We are women not only of the Jaguar tribe, but daughters of Rhul. Our word is as good as bond, for we could be no other way. And I, your sister, am worried about you. You grow older and wiser and you have your allies - for now. But you are not getting any younger, and I would not see my sister become another Matoya, as wise and capable as she is, all alone in a cave. Do this for me, and I give you my word, I shall not breath a word of finding you companionship for a season.”
Y’shtola desperately wished to go back to her work, but while she could match and usually exceed her sister’s stubbornness, it would mean time and effort she did not wish to spare just this moment.
And the offer was a tempting one. To not be pestered with such nonsense for a time. Though of course, Y’mhitra’s offer was, purposefully, a low one.
“Offer me one summer of such respite, and I shall -consider- your words.”
“Two seasons.”
“One summer, or I shall stay in my little room, blessedly alone, continuing my important work, and shall delight in frustrating your efforts the entire time.”
“…fine,” said Y’mhitra, scowling. “I would leave the matter closed for one summer, but if and only if you put forth a good faith effort. You never have to see them again, but see them the once, at least.”
“If I say that I shall take the matter under due consideration, will you let me return to my work?”
“Gladly.”
“Fine. Then I consider the matter settled for now.”
“Alright, but if I do not have your answer in a sennight, I am coming back,” said Y’mhitra. “And I will be bringing others with me. I am not the only one that worries, you know.”
“I am certain,” said Y’shtola, dryly. “Why, with so many worrying after me rather than themselves, it is little wonder that I ever feel in danger at all. Perhaps all this worry can summon a primal to keep me company.”
“Very funny, Shtola.”
“Now, if you don’t mind…”
“One sennight, and then I am coming for you.”
Y’shtola just waved a hand in the air as Y’mhitra left, and sighed.
~*~
Ryss was keeping an eye on Zoissette, without looking like she was keeping an eye on Zoissette.
She was worried about her, and wondered idly if this was what it was like to be Zoissette all the time. She had long been a confidant to the Elezen, after all, and Zoissette had frequently confessed her various worries about others to her. About Klynt and Apple, and whether or not they were being fulfilled by their work and reaching their potential as much as they wanted. Worrying about Meya and Erick, and hoping their relationship was well. Worrying about her brother, hoping his life in Ishgard was continuing to treat him well. Worrying about Riven and Astrid. Worrying about Mathye and whether she was doing right by him. Worrying about Thalia and her weird shyness around training with Augustine.
She did not complain much, and she often kept her true feelings tight to herself, but she did seem to worry a lot, and now here Ryss was, worrying about Zoissette.
Well, if this worked, then all would be well again. In a far corner of the workshop, where she could not be heard, Ryss saw Apple take a linkpearl call. Apple nodded a few times, before lifting her head, facing Ryss, and waving to try to get her attention.
So much for subtlety, but if Zoissette noticed, she wasn’t paying it much mind. Ryss sighed and waved back, and Apple gave her a thumbs-up.
If she was reading the situation correctly, that meant Y’mhitra had just called in, and with good news.
It was time to move in. Ryss ambled over to where Zoissette was.
“Say, Zoi, I had a thought.”
Zoissette did not look up from her work. “Hopefully more than the one, since that is what we get paid for.”
“Say, Zoi, I had a -lot- of thoughts.”
“Oh very good. I suppose you wish to share some?”
“Yeah. S’about what we talked about the other day.”
“I still think the merits of the Nymian systems of measurement shall rule out over the current standards one day.”
“…not about that.”
“Oh! Well, I had thought the matter settled, but I am open to suggestions.”
“Not that either! … wait no actually I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“What we should get for the tea tin.”
“Oh. Oh, no, not that, either. Wait. Since you brought it up I think that we should get honey now that we’re here in Gridania. I hear they have the best honey.”
Zoissette lifted her head up to yell. “Apple! Add Gridanian honey to the supply list!”
“Okay!”
“Alright, but still not that either,” said Ryss, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m talking about love.”
There had been a few changes in Zoissette’s demeanor since she had returned from the events of the laboratory incident. One of them was that while before her face had often had an aloof expression of Ishgardian politeness, now it seemed that every emotion she had danced across her face at the slightest prompting.
Like just now, as she passed through several expressions so fast that Ryss blinked and missed a few.
“I do not know that there is much more to talk about there, Ryss.”
Well. The Ishgardian stoicism may have been gone, but the person behind it was still the same.
“Girl, look, you’re sitting down here thinking about it when you should be out there doing something about it. You gotta get back in the saddle! We gotta get you out there! And most importantly of all…”
Ryss trailed off for dramatic effect. When the silence began to stretch into the awkward, she nudged Zoissette in the shoulder.
Zoissette just looked flatly at her, and she threw up her hands.
“Fine, I’ll just say it. You need practice! Science demands research, Zoissette!”
Zoissette continued to look flatly at her, but then after a moment, she cracked a smiled and laughed, and Ryss knew she had her.
“Alright, fine, what do you have in mind.”
“Dating. Get out! Meet people!”
“I am not inclined to inflict myself on anyone else just yet, Ryss.”
“Whatever, you’re a delight, you just haven’t found the right person yet. And how are you gonna find them if you’re not willing to search a bit?”
Zoissette just shook her head. “I’ve not the social calendar to be a gadfly and sort through potentials just to inevitably be letting them all down.”
“Letting them down? I’m not talking about courting, Zoissette. Dating! Just dating. Casual meet ups. Lunches that don’t have to go anywhere, dinners that are just for fun. Practice for when you’re ready to go looking for the one. And if you don’t like ‘em, you can just tell them no thank you, no hard feelings, and be on your way. You can tell people no, right?”
“I tell people no all the time, Ryss. Like every time Erick tries to sneak a trebuchet into the fabricator’s planning schedule. When Aeryn starts to get that look in her eyes that tells me that she’s thinking of chasing something over the horizon again. Or when my friend tries to tell me that me dating is a good idea.”
“Aw, come on, Zoi. Science demands sample sizes!”
“I thought it demanded research?”
“Which can be done through…” said Ryss, making a ‘go on’ gesture with her hands.
Zoissette just looked at her with a small smile, then let out an exaggerated sigh.
“Tell you what. Say yes, and I’ll even do all the hard work. Get you dolled up, find you a nice place to eat, pick out someone for you to get you started. Call it a blind date. It’ll be fun!”
“I will think about it, Ryss.”
“Good enough for now!”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Apple give her a thumbs up, and she resisted the urge to facepalm. Fortunately, Zoissette didn’t seem to notice.
~*~
“I am not at all sure what has gotten into my sister lately,” said Y’shtola to Thancred. She was certain she was on the last bit of work needed to restore Zoissette’s glasses fully, but needed a break, and had elected to make time for tea with her fellow Scion. “She has always worried after me and been quite insistent on meddling in my personal affairs, but her efforts have rather increased as of late.”
Thancred shrugged. “Maybe she just thinks it’s a good time. It’s quiet in our collective lives. For once. Interrupting your report writing for the Forum is certainly better than trying to divert your attention while we are trying once more to save the star from something or another.”
Y’shtola just sighed. “I don’t imagine you have any insights as to what she may be planning after her little attempt to rope you in over lunch the other day.”
“Well of course I do,” said Thancred. “She’s been coming to me.”
Y’shtola set her tea down, and glared at Thancred over it. He shrugged in response.
“To be clear, I do not wholly agree with her,” he said. “After all, I know you well, Shtola. You are an independent woman, of unimpeachable character, with strength enough to rival the star. Indeed, I dare say if more of us had been blessed with the Echo and felt the need to step into the role of being a true Warrior of Light, why, I think none of us would be as well placed to fill the role as… G’raha Tia, naturally, with his long tenure of experience as the Crystal Exarch.”
Y’shtola chuckled, and Thancred gave her a grin before he continued on. “But it would be a close race, and if he was to place second to any of us, I daresay it would be to you. Your sister might make mention of your strength, but I’ve witnessed it. And I will not indulge your ego any further by speaking to your knowledge. But I cannot help but think that the crux of our last discussion was the ways in which you have found the wisdom to applying both, whether by yourself or with allies. So no, I don’t agree with her that you need a partner.”
“Do not think I do not detect the faint whiff of self-deprecation there, Thancred, that you fail to count yourself amongst the more capable of our little group.”
He waved a hand at her. “Perhaps with Urianger to help make up for my shortfall in aether. But never mind that. Y’shtola, I love you like family, and as family, I say, your sister may be wrong in the specifics, but I think she’s right in a broader sense. A partner would suit you. You’re not perfect, despite how often you pretend to be, don’t look at me like that, we’re being honest right now. And if I am to be honest, which I am, I don’t think you need a paramour. But imagine having someone to truly share yourself with. Someone to weather our various trials, side by side, another half. Who understands who you are and what you do and why you do it whole heartedly. Someone who can look at all of this like you do, who understands your point of view, and can match it with theirs. I think the idea has more merit than you are pretending to give it credit for.”
“Truly?”
“Yes, ‘truly’. That is my vaunted insight, if you’ll have it. Maybe let her have her fun. Let this play out. See where it goes. And then you’ll do what you want anyroad.”
Y’shtola was quiet for a moment, and Thancred shrugged.
“If nothing else, it does get you out of your room for a spell. Even if she’s wrong about everything else, you have been working too hard.”
“This from you?”
“Who would know better?”
“Well. I shall certainly not belabor the point,” she said. “I shall consider your counsel, Thancred.”
“Just leave me out of it if you decide to get mad at somebody. Don’t shoot the messenger and all that.”
“I believe I shall be cross with whosoever I wish, should such come to pass,” said Y’shtola archly, and she laughed when Thancred threw up his hands in defeat.
~*~
“I hope that ending my courtship with Mathye has not put your relationship with the Lady Fortemps under any strain,” said Zoissette.
Ement was practically living at Gage Acquisitions for the time being, helping out around the place and keeping an eye on his sister. They made a point of catching up often, and were just now alone in a quiet corner of the workshop where they would not be bothered.
“Riven? Heavens, no. She’s been an utter lady about the whole affair.”
“Good. I am glad,” she said, and Ement watched, as she fidgeted. “I… I told him I thought I loved someone else.”
“So I heard. Anybody I know?”
“…it does not matter.”
“Oh, good. You only ended a courtship over it. One you were trying your very hardest at, as I recall.”
Zoissette gave him a dirty look, and he shrugged back at her. He watched her long enough to see the change when it happened, as she went from stubborn to resigned.
“… it’s Archon Y’shtola.”
“Oh, fantastic taste, and I mean that sincerely. She threatened to turn me into a frog when I made half a pass at her. I love a woman that can ruin my life.”
“Ement.”
“Zoissette. Okay, but really, Sette, you could do worse. I barely know her, but I know she was there when you needed her to be, and every step after. And you’ve certainly prattled on enough about her to me. Wait, did I say I barely know her? With your stories, I think I could tell her life story.”
“You mean like those awful songs you sing at the tavern?”
“Those songs get me drinks.”
Zoissette sighed. “It does not matter. If she was interested, I am certain she would have made that clear long before now. She has not, and, well. Love her or not, I am content to play my part in her story.”
“Might just ask her about it to be sure.”
“I should,” Zoissette conceded. “But what if I am wrong? If she does not love me, that is fine, but what if I do not truly love her? I just… I do not know. I told Sebastian I would try after Heavensturn, but I do not know. And in the meanwhile…”
“In the meanwhile.”
“Ryss thinks I should try dating.”
“Great! Try that out, let me know how it goes.”
“I do not think that I should be dating anyone when I am not certain about the truth of my own heart,” she said.
“Is that what’s going on? Come on, Sette. Look, I get being cagey about approaching her, but you keep saying you’re not sure of the truth. Not sure of the truth? I’ve never known anyone in my life more obsessive about the truth. Say it with me. What’s the first duty?”
“… to the truth.”
“To the truth. Face her, face it, and find out the truth. Or don’t. I know it’s not like you to rush in, and you like to sit and think about things entirely too much. So, hey. Tell you what, here’s an idea. Keep doing that. And in the meanwhile, put yourself out there.”
“Put myself out where?”
“Dating. Going out. And, since I’m not out of good advice just yet, here’s some more. Forget about whoever you meet. Stop trying to be the perfect shape to fit them. Find out if they can be a shape to fit you. What I’m trying to say, is go out and get some practice being yourself. I’ve known you your entire life, Zoissette, and what you are truly in love with is making yourself miserable to be what everyone else needs you to be. And when you’re not doing that, you love to pretend you don’t exist, and it almost got you killed. Well, stop it.”
Ement was looking at her, and for once, his usual jocularity was entirely missing. Zoissette felt herself sitting up a little straighter, looking back at him square on, and meeting him where he was.
One dutiful child of Ishgard to another.
“Your self assigned duty is to the truth. So stop living so many lies.”
Zoissette felt her eyes watering, and she reached up to wipe them away with the back of a hand, and she nodded. She took a deep breath in, and she straightened her shoulders and stiffened her back, and she nodded.
“And there we are,” said Ement, relaxing back, reaching down a hand to fiddle with his rebreather, letting out a sigh of relief as he increased the airflow feed.
“Thank you,” said Zoissette.
“What are older brothers for, if not dispensing sage wisdom that they’ll never need or follow?” he said, his humor back, and the edges of her lips twitched. She closed her eyes to keep the tears away, and let herself laugh.
~*~
“Okay so it’s not so important what she wears, so long as she’s comfortable in it, gonna ask if Meya can help.”
“Oh! Maybe I should drive them both in a chocobo carriage! That’s romantic!”
“Right. So, I just linkpearled Klynt, and I told her everything that’s going on to get her advice, but all that happened is she laughed so hard she disconnected, and I’m choosing to take that as a good sign.”
“Now that she’s agreed to our deal, she’s not like to renege on it, but we still must needs be certain to not give her a reason to cancel.”
“Didja happen to get us tickets to be off the continent when they meet? I’d like to live to next summer.”
“I’ve fully booked the fabricator on these days! And I’ll ask around to make sure all the leves get filled, too!”
Ement and Thancred watched with some level of detached amusement and bafflement as the others dashed around making last minute adjustments to their master plan.
“You want to know the really funny bit?” asked Ement.
“Hmn?”
“This could all probably be upended with a five minute conversation.”
“What, and deny them their fun? Perish the thought.”
They continued to watch as the plans were fully assembled.
“At least Y’shtola’s not like to blame me for this mess,” said Thancred, and Ement just grinned at him.
~*~
There. Her work was near finished.
All she had left was to finish checking those enchantments that she could. Overall, she was quite pleased with herself. Without knowing the depths of Zoissette’s various magical disciplines, she had, nevertheless, managed what should have been an impossible task. The glasses were repaired, and the enchantments were restored. No matter how complex or tricky they had been, a look at their aether showed that they had been perfectly preserved, and now only wanted for their owner.
She could not check all of the enchantments, but those that she could, she had carefully been examining for the last bell. She had some time before Y’mhitra would show up to escort her to her arranged date, and she wished to see the work through.
As she reviewed them, she found herself smiling, as many of them brought back memories of her various adventures alongside Zoissette. The glasses were a useful tool, and Zoissette oft used their many capabilities to study aether, detect the positions of magitek in the field, get a closer look at some creature from far away, and more. Zoissette was inventive and clever, and that cleverness was reflected in the complexities of every enchantment, every decision that had been made in the manufacture of her glasses.
And the enchantments formed a history. Recent ones were fairly complex, with interlocking functionality, but they grew simpler as Y’shtola checked older ones, until she began to came across those that any beginner to the art may’ve created. Why they were still present, Y’shtola was not certain, but she checked them as well. An indicator for aetheric aspects. A range finder spell. A magnification function. And then, at last, she came to the final enchantment she could check. It was not quite as simple as many of the ones of similar age, requiring more than a novice’s knowledge. It seemed to form a method for storing images that had been drawn with aetheric ink.
She gave it a pulse of aether to bring it to life.
An image flared up on the lenses, and Y’shtola felt as though the world had come to a sudden stop. She was full certain that she was not, could not, be seeing the image that was now projected onto the lens.
It was a simple enough image.
It was comprised of two sketches. The first was the outline of a kite shield, drawn in blue. And the second existed in the middle of that shield, a shape that was most familiar to Y’shtola, drawn in red.
The witch’s wand, drawn to be the standard on a shieldmaiden’s shield. The full composition had been drawn by two children in Sharlayan, over twenty summers ago, and inscribed for posterity in the very enchantment she had just restored.
~*~
Zoissette felt bewildered and more than a little overwhelmed.
She had decided, ultimately, to take Ryss up on her offer to go on a blind date. If she just set aside her feelings for a moment, it promised to have the potential to be fun. She could just go out. Without a care in the world. Whatever happened, happened. At least she would not be screwing up another courtship. And there were no expectations of her. Just show up. Right. Just be herself. Right. Get some practice being out in public. Right. No disasters, no being unintentionally off-putting, no weirdness, just act normal.
Right. Learn how everyone else did this kind of thing.
She took a deep breath in. Her friends had been trying very, very hard to make sure this would be a nice night for her. Apple had taken over her responsibilities for the night. Klynt was away, that was fine, she was in training. Dark had seemed very amused when she had asked for her shift change, but had allowed it.
Meya and Ryss had helped her pick an outfit, something with colors that supposedly complemented her complexion. And something, Ryss had stressed, she would be comfortable in. She had tried her hand at wearing the latest fashions before, but this time, something simpler. Something more her. Lots of pockets. Very comfortable boots. A nice overcoat. She already had moved several journals in and out of their pouches, unable to decide whether to leave them behind or not. It would be rude if she brought them out in the middle of doing something else.
She absolutely had to do this. She absolutely should not do this. It was not too late to beg out. Probabilities and possibilities coalesced in her mind. Different paths and different outcomes. Infinite possibilities in infinite permutations. Each thought a note, each note a noise. A cacophony. A discordance. A swell, thoughts running over and into one another, like an entire musical orchestra all playing every note on every instrument all at once, overlapping, overwhelming.
Zoissette was moving mechanically, now. Almost on autopilot. She knew Ryss would be here soon. To pick her up. To take her to this blind date. All she had to do was be dressed by then. Put her hair up. Use the bow that Ameliance taught her how to make. She liked that. Kept her hair out of her face. Reach for her glasses except they were not there and she really missed them just now.
She looked mournfully at the spot where they were supposed to be, and looked at herself in the vanity, and second and third guessed herself.
But this was a good idea. This was a good thing. Ryss meant well.
She glanced to the single earring on the vanity, one which she wore nigh continuously. A gift from Y’shtola, meant to symbolize their deep friendship. Two black carnations, with two tiny silver threads holding two beautiful pearls. She should leave it behind, she thought.
But then she reached out and touched her fingers to it, and memories came to her, and the noise in her mind seemed to recede of its own volition, quieting, becoming a single solitary thread, a melody carried by a single note.
She looked at it, and time seemed to slow, to allow her to stay in a gentle moment.
~*~
The shieldmaiden.
Y’shtola set the glasses down in disbelief.
My, how she had grown.
The shieldmaiden had been young, her complexion darker, and her build had been wiry. She had been awkward, someone who had not yet grown fully into their height, and when she had first seen her, why, Y’shtola was not sure if she was dealing with a young man or a young woman. Her hair had been shorter back then as well, and her mouth too wide for her face.
Zoissette Vauban.
She had not known her name at the time, due to a singularly foolish game they had played at, but Y’shtola reached down and tilted the glasses up to look again, and there was no mistaking it.
Her one time companion in mischief, and she had returned to her life for full on many summers now.
Ser Zoissette de Vauban of Ishgard, noble, knight, warrior.
Shieldmaid.
She was quieter, now. The shieldmaiden had been boisterous and chatty, stumbling over her words, exuberant and full of energy and that awkward smile. Just… like Zoissette could be, when she got excited about something, when she lowered her guard long enough to truly let herself be free. The awkward smile had been replaced with a somewhat distant and vaguely polite one, but nevertheless.
They were both insatiably curious. They were both willing to put themselves in harm’s way for others. Both were honest in that sort of way that demonstrated that they knew no other way to be.
Their eyes always searching out truth. Their heart always finding the good in the world. Their shield arm always strong, to protect any who were in need. Foolish and brilliant and that was her Zoissette, her shieldmaiden grown into shieldmaid, her friend.
Zoissette could be foolish at times, it was true, but it was the foolishness borne out of a most earnest desire to do the right thing. Even when they had their differences, and such happened often, Y’shtola still felt a great fondness for her. That she could hold her own against Y’shtola’s intellect was endearing, not off-putting. And truly, her feelings were more than just fondness.
She had changed from the young girl who she had remembered, true, but what was more important was the many ways in which she had stayed the same. She had grown up into a fine woman, possibly the finest that Y’shtola had ever known, the obvious result of a lifetime of lessons hard learned, but the core of who she was, well.
It had stayed the same. After all these years, she felt as though she recognized her, fully, now. Seeing her in a way that she had never allowed herself to see her before.
What a fool Y’shtola could be.
~*~
Zoissette sat down at the vanity, picking up the earring, and rubbing her thumb gently across the petals of its flowers, careful to not disturb them any more than was necessary for enjoying the sensation of touching them.
Y’shtola had always had that affect on her, had she not? A calming influence in a chaotic life. She had been there from near the start of Zoissette’s misadventures upon arriving in Eorzea, and she had been by the woman’s side ever since, sometimes leading, often following.
She was a lodestone, an anchor, and Zoissette never had to put on any pretense for her. When she prattled on excitedly about some new discovery or deep recollection of a beloved topic, Y’shtola had always listened with patience. When she outlined some stratagem, Y’shtola was often the first to see it. When there was some challenge to overcome, Y’shtola was always quick to stand by her side to face it. When something needed to be done, well, Zoissette and Y’shtola were the kind of women to do it.
When the world was noise and chaos, Y’shtola was a powerful quiet in it, her courage and steadfastness as stable as they came. She could be short with people, and she was famous for her sharp tongue, but Zoissette knew what few people did, that it was a tool for cutting not to the quick, but to the truth. Y’shtola did what honesty demanded, and Zoissette always respected her for that.
And now, Zoissette knew she had to do what honesty demanded of her.
~*~
Y’shtola curled her hands around the glasses, and she smiled. Her heart felt light. It was as though the clouds were parting after the rain, and she could see the majesty of the history she full shared with Zoissette.
She gingerly picked up the glasses, releasing the aether keeping the enchantment going, and closed them upon themselves, tucking them away, to keep on her until she could see them safely back to their owner.
And when she did so, they would have something new to talk about. Their shared past.
And perhaps, a shared future.
~*~
Zoissette picked up the earrings, and slowly, almost reverently, put them on. She looked at herself in the mirror as she did so.
The truth. The truth was, she loved Y’shtola. And she had loved her for a very long time.
And the earrings were a reminder, of sorts, that she had always known that, hadn’t she? The world was an often confusing place, and she often felt like she would never be part of the shared human experience, like an outsider, looking in, but Y’shtola never made her feel that way. Even in her sharp moments, Y’shtola was always inviting her in, offering her wisdom, showing her truths and knowledge.
Zoissette felt fear and uncertainty become replaced with resolve.
~*~
Well, in any situation, these were truths that could be faced later, matters that would hold for one more day. For now, however.
Y’shtola Rhul looked herself over in the mirror one last time, and satisfied with what she saw there, headed out to satisfy her sister’s need to meddle. That it might not matter shortly did not matter. Y’shtola was a woman of her word, and she would keep it.
Zoissette Vauban checked everything one last time. Pens and journals and tools secure in any of a number of pouches and pockets. She nodded, and headed out. Regardless of any personal revelations, Ryss had set this up as a favor to her, and she would not let the woman down.
Besides, thought Y’shtola, as teleporting magicks gathered around her, if her company for the night turned out to be a boor, she could simply tease her sister for her poor planning and foresight for the foreseeable future. But she would tolerate this evening well enough. And then, after, she would go visit her dear friend, and that, she looked forward to with relish.
And anyroad, there would be no real consequences for this, would there be? With the earring, it would be as though Y’shtola was there with her, and Zoissette felt a bit of light giddiness as she decided that perhaps she could just regale her would-be date with her research. If they enjoyed it, then she would happily share, and if not, then so what? She could be a boor for once in her life with little real consequence, and she could share an amusing story with Ryss, and Ryss would bear the burden of having such an awkward friend with good humour. And then, after this, she would speak to Y’shtola, at long last.
Conversations, perhaps, overdue. But first.
~*~
It was a clear night in Limsa Lominsa. The sun had sunk down over the horizon some bells past, and now the stars were out, sharing their light with the ocean below them. As one looked out past the tide gates, the twinkling of lights reflected in the waves met the twinkling of the light shining from the stars, and at the horizon, it seemed almost as if ocean and night sky were one, seeming almost to be a way to glimpse into infinity.
The Bismarck was famous not just for its food, but for the ambience it provided, the view over the starry ocean accessible from its balconies, the open kitchen ensuring its smells were shared with all. The noise of the fires in the kitchen met the sound of the ocean waves crashing far below, and tonight, the two sounds met and intermixed to form a deep whisper that seemed fit to speak to the very soul of those diners fortunate enough to meet there this night.
One of the hostesses led Y’shtola on a path past the other diners to reach one of the higher up balconies. As they arrived, the hostess bowed, and politely went on her way, leaving Y’shtola to take the last several steps herself. A table for two had been set up, and none else. A private spot, with someone already there, seeming to be looking out over the bay.
Y’shtola walked up the steps, and as she got closer, she slowed, as she recognized that outline. Broad shoulders, appropriate for a knight. Tall, even for an Elezen. Hair in a ponytail held in place by a neatly tied large black bow. A familiar set of earrings hung from one ear.
And her aether, still that calming shade, fair brimming with a power that was belied the potential of its depths, hugging her outline, tightly controlled. A faint glow that Y’shtola had come to find comforting, over the many summers she had known it.
She felt a flash of annoyance. Her sister was going to be insufferable, and she was going to skin her alive.
It evaporated nearly immediately though, and she laughed at herself. How upset could she be? Her sister had merely lead her to conclusions she had already full reached herself. Let her sister think herself clever; the benefits would be hers to have.
She climbed the stairs, and the other woman heard her as she approached.
Zoissette turned to face her, and oh gods, how had she not realised the connection earlier. Her eyes, in any sight, held kindness enough for the star, even as they darted across Y’shtola in confusion as a frown creased her forehead
“Shtola?” said Zoissette, surprised. “What are you doing here? Uhm, I mean, not that I mind. It’s just, it is just, well, uhm, unexpected. I am supposed to be meeting someone here shortly, they are not here yet…”
Her voice trailed off as Y’shtola reached a hand out towards her. “Hello, Sette,” she said. Zoissette only paused a moment before taking her hand in hers, and oh, the levin rumble at her touch, fair tingling her fingers.
“…hi,” said Zoissette, feeling a bit light headed and breathless. She was ready to confess her feelings to Y’shtola, but had not expected to need to do so tonight. She could feel the noise beginning to rise again, but as she looked at the soft smile on Y’shtola’s face, she calmed. There was surely a rationale for what was going on right now. She would solve this mystery, and then tackle that question.
And the answer was obvious, really. Zoissette squeezed her eyes shut and groaned.
“Ryss set this up,” she said.
“Ryss and my sister both,” replied Y’shtola.
“I am so, so sorry.”
“I find that I am not.”
Zoissette took a deep breath in, and let it out, and when she opened her eyes again, Y’shtola was looking up at her with that mischievous smile, and a wicked glint to her eye. As full of confidence and poise as ever. Y’shtola could meet any situation, and oh gods, Zoissette would meet the challenges of life with her forever more if she could help it.
“I believe I have an idea that will allow us to make the most of this,” said Y’shtola, leading Zoissette by the hand to her seat. Bemused but willing, Zoissette sat down, just watching Y’shtola curiously as she went to go stand by the railing and look out over the bay.
She was not a tall woman, not by Miqo’te standards, and certainly not by Elezen ones. But despite that, her posture, her poise, all made her seem so much larger than she was. She was such a strong woman. The very figure of a wise and powerful sorceress. Many found her intimidating, as they should. Zoissette found her beautiful, especially now, silhouetted by night sky, a sea breeze ruffling her dress and somehow highlighting her figure.
Y’shtola turned away from the bay slightly, and their eyes met, and oh, Zoissette wanted the moment to last forever. Just the two of them. Or to grasp the moment and make the most of it, to confess, and let whatever may be happen.
But first.
“I have a storytale I would share with you,” said Y’shtola, as she began to pace slowly to come around the table, one foot solidly in front of the other. “Perhaps you are familiar with it. It deals with the shieldmaiden of your history, and takes place, I think, not so long ago, and not so far away.”
Zoissette just watched her, uncertain where the conversation was going, but curious all the same.
“The shieldmaiden left her home, I believe it goes,” Y’shtola continued, “to travel far away. To a land of learning, of wisdom. Of green rolling hills, and of tall white towers, which were said to hold many of the books of the world. Her curiosity would not allow her otherwise, you see; she would seek wisdom, whatever form it might take, and wheresoever it might be.
“And in that place, she was scorned by the witless and set upon by fools. A lesser woman may have been discouraged, but not she. For even in her youth, she had her bravery and her determination, and while she sought no quarrel, she also would not allow herself to be driven away. And it was well, for in this place, she met another young woman, one much like she. Not as strong, perhaps. Wiser, perhaps. It is in that place, she met the witch of this storytale.”
Zoissette frowned. This was not one of the storytales of the shieldmaiden nor of the witch that she was familiar with, and she knew an awful lot of them. However, as she listened to Y’shtola tell her tale, she thought she could feel a certain tug in her memories, a certain sense of familiarity in the tale.
“The two went on many adventures, though perhaps not as many as they might have liked. The shieldmaiden learned of a witch’s magicks and peoples, and the witch learned that the world was perhaps more than she had previously imagined. Alas, fools fell upon them, but with the strength of her heart, and guided by the witch’s hand, they overcame them, not once, at a bridge, not twice, at an atelier, but three times, under the roof of a powerful man.”
Y’shtola’s path had taken her behind Zoissette’s chair, and instead of twisting around to keep her gaze following her, Zoissette just sat and frowned. She was listening very carefully to the story, and there was a piece that would solve this puzzle in it somewhere, she just knew it.
“And in that place, it was neither the wisdom of the witch nor the strength of the shieldmaiden that carried the day. Nay, it was their trust in one another, their unwavering dedication to their truth, and the honesty of their testimony. Thus was it that the fools were thwarted, and the witch and the shieldmaiden won the day.”
Y’shtola had drifted behind the chair now, and came to place her head next to Zoissette’s, her mouth close to her ear, as she dropped her voice to be dark and low, and Zoissette craned her neck to listen to the last of the story.
“Before she left, they stopped where they had began, at the place they had first met. From there, they parted ways, but before they did, they agreed they would meet each other again, some day.”
Y’shtola wrapped her arms around the chair, resting them on Zoissette’s shoulders, and in her hand was a familiar pair of glasses. Zoissette glanced at her briefly before reaching out to take them, noticing that an enchantment had already been activated, and as she looked, the last puzzle piece fell into place.
“I believe I still owe you a boon,” purred Y’shtola into her ear. “If you would have it.”
Zoissette turned her head, and looked deep into Y’shtola’s eyes. A thousand thoughts crossed her mind, but they quickly distilled down to only one.
“I would,” she whispered, and she reached up, placing her hand on the back of Y’shtola’s head, and gently pulled her closer, and they at last met, and fell into one another freely, as their lips met and they kissed.
The stars’s light reflected in the ocean and the ocean’s light met the stars, but that was not the most beautiful sight in Limsa Lominsa that night.
#final fantasy xiv#biot writes#year of the otp#yotp 2023#blind date#zoissette vauban#ryssthota sundstyrwyn#y'mhitra rhul#y'shtola rhul#ement vauban#thancred waters#apple silverberg#witchshield
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Fun meta asks for writers! 1.Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it? 17.o you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations? 20.Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks, etc.)
Menace. Bully. Fiend. How dare you--
So in 2022 as we were awaiting the finished dark knight zine and prepping for FFXIV Write 2022, roommate found a submissions call for a zine called "I Spade You" that would be about Ace romances. I've had a pseudo-idea floating in the back of my head for a long while about a middle-aged pair in a fantasy setting who despite being from opposite sides of a conflict end up having a connection, and tried to form it into a 2500 word story for submission to this zine but it wouldn't gel.
Well, the problem really was that it was gelling...into something longer. I'd been thinking of it in the background long enough that it took on a life of its own. But things at work heated up, I already had fandom writing projects, so I shelved the idea and lost track of that zine. I didn't think of it seriously for months.
Then Bigolas Dickolas Wolfwood entered the chat with their sincere promotion of This is How You Lose the Time War, a novel I had heard about but hadn't read yet. So I read it, and while "people from opposite sides of a conflict form a connection" is the only similarity to my story, the visceral language in that novel really got to me.
I found myself opening the Spade folder again. And writing random scenes from various points in a 25ish year relationship between 2 people thrown together by outside machinations into a marriage neither wants, falling in love despite that, but the cracks form and irreconcilable differences arise due to duty and pride and a lifetime of nationalist education, a long separation and obsession, and then fate puts them together once more, relearning who they are now After All That.
It's arranged marriage friends to lovers to enemies to friends to lovers again. I keep forgetting to add straight people to the supporting cast. I have 3 distinct parts--early relationship, 15 years apart having life happen, then a disaster that makes one of them relearn all they thought they knew while the other hurtles toward their long-waited fate. I have world building and character profile documents. A family tree for one group for Reasons. Avatars for some characters thanks to BG3 and Picrews. So. It's...drafting. It's currently pretty indulgent and a lot of Vibes, little in depth research yet. There's probably over 100k words written but I dunno how many total and a lot of them will change.
It's still an ace romance between the leads. And between another ace character and her bi partner. Whether people think it "counts" or not will be where there's a perception schism, I guess. If I ever get any of it out. It won't be for everyone and there's probably things I'll get wrong and also some of the characters, even protagonists and heroic figures and loveable folks, aren't always the best people and have major flaws and issues.
There's also a teeny bit of "this aspect of this character's story in X other media annoyed me and also I see where there's some influence from this author of Y media I like so wonder if I could write something similar to be more satisfying for me" thrown against the general idea of "I have this one OC that's been bopping around in my head for years" and it became "but what if they kissed and that's all they do while being in love because they don't need more than that? And there's also a lot of familial and platonic loving relationships in there? And framed around an epic fated adventure?"
Still really developing recurring themes and callbacks, but there's a running joke with flicking balls of paper at someone's head, and a poignant bit about family home entryway markers and mourning rituals that may run throughout.
#Lyn Prompts#Lyn Meta#Lyn Writing#about me#blogging#I didn't post a prompt list Biot's just Like This
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(@driftward) Oh, let's see, one per inbox item defeated per blog, correct? Of course I'm correct. Gimme dat Little Brother Thing; self-indulgent on my part going to ask after The Effects of Wine (Y'shtola); It Ends Where It Begins sounds ~interesting~; Hilda Ideas, for both me and a friend; X'rhun and F'lhamin (eyebrows eyebrows eyebrows); and a bonus just out of sheer curiosity, Biot's Antecedent Musings
Good job defeating the inbox boss. Why were you awake at hours only reasonable to me and our local Australian?? Anyway.
Little Brother Thing - Stormblood 4.3. As Alphinaud accompanies Maxima, Aeryn reflects back on key moments in their journey together, and how much he's grown and changed from the arrogant boy she shared a cart with but didn't properly meet until the Remembrance Ceremonies, to the confident young man he is at this point--and how she's still going to worry for him regardless of how capable he is, because that's how it goes.
I should revisit this actually, it's got some good bones. Hrm.
The Effects of Wine - ARR, Company of Heroes chain, Y'shtola POV. After the Feast, Y'shtola and Aeryn rest in a bungalow and have a late evening talk about Aeryn's growing reputation, why the Company did what they did, and how she just ever meant to be a common adventurer to help people--not a primal slaying hero. Aeryn says more here than usual at this point in the story; maybe the wine, maybe the growing trust in her comrade.
I should get around to cleaning it up and posting it somewhere, honestly. It was a noodle-thought from very early on as I was figuring out voices and relationships, but it's not too bad.
It Ends Where It Begins - is a post-5.0 Shadowbringers. Something that the Exarch said in the cliffside convo before Mt Gulg reminded Aeryn of Papalymo's words post-Ultima Weapon (it's a click text when everyone's gathered in the Waking Sands to congratulate you before you turn in the final 2.0 quest in to Minfilia). Given all that happens to WoL in 5.0, and the revelations in general, Aeryn ends up thinking of the words as she looks back on her journey, and ends up in Gridania. And it leads into what then became a seaswolchallenge prompt in 2020, Metamorphosis, where she tells Miounne and Bremondt stories of her adventures.
Hilda Notes - Literally just a list of notes about horny Hilda moments for some reason. There's a draft for a fic of her and a touch-starved Thancred I can check off. Ideas for a cop vs vigilante fic with Sidurgu (maybe something sexy there, maybe not). And an idea for a Hilda solo as she fantasizes about a hot Highland lass met while dealing with Ala Mhigo stuff. It's not even a real fic draft, it's just a list of random ideas written up while apparently hormonal.
X'rhun and F'lhaminn - Oh this is from back in I think Book Club days and a rarepair challenge month. Find a relationship that doesn't already exist on Ao3. Write something. Back then there were no tags joining these characters in any way. I was going to try to write the duelist and songstress in a light friendly adventure of their own, maybe get in some witty flirty banter for the fun of it, but the mystery never quite gelled and so I shelved it. Maybe someday. And add in Nashmeira.
Biot's Antecedent Musings - Discord convo on 12/28/22 where you were having thinky thoughts about Thancred and Minfilia and being the person she confided in about the Echo and I accused you of trying to bait me into writing something about that.
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3 au 9 octobre 2022
Monday morning all the gardeners at l’Orangerie sat down with M. for a little meeting to plan winter jobs. Disappointingly Couli decided not to join us. It was polite. It was the closest I’ve been to the two groundskeepers in a very long time. We all know the olive harvest is looming as well...
Monday afternoon I met up with Emma, from CPG, in Antibes for a few hours; it was so great to see her. While we were walking around, we found several streets that had put a lot of effort to green them up, including an Euphorbia milii, that was a surprise.
That evening I watched a KMIS presentation on bonsais; oh how I miss those Monday gatherings in the Jodrell. After that was my monthly Quinta meeting.
I took a day of TOIL to join Dedereck on a Mediterranean Gardens France excursion to two gardens. I took the train to meet him and he drove. We visited Le Jardin du Réal in Puget Ville and Le Jardin exotique du Château Noir, a private garden, in Giens. I was asked to write a blurb about the visit which can be found here : https://mediterraneangardening.fr/october-octobre-2022visits-to-gardens-in-puget-ville-and-giens-var/
Ann and friend arrived at mine while we were driving back. Conveniently André and Denis were returning my car so Ann drove them home and then had a house key. Ann was super kind and came to collect me and my trottinnette at Carrefour. There are just too many steep hills between there and home for it. We had a nice catch up and I heard all about their week in Italy. Then we headed up to Biot for dinner. The food was great, as expected; however, the service was appalling. Thankfully some of the kitchen staff realised this and tried to make things go a bit smoother.
Wednesday I finished cutting down all the Iris unguicularis. Then I dug up an electrical cable that was only in a shallow trench connecting my garage to the mains. I had a good chat with Alek and he is sending a friend of his to see the garden next week. I also planted a dozen more white Cyclamen hederifolium around the sanglier statue. Hopefully these will survive. There were four flowers from last year’s planting. I had a good catch up with Ginny in the evening.
Thursday and Friday I started planting bulbs, lots of bulbs. I’m planting Tulipa, Narcissus, Galanthus and Silla to put on a spring show. I’m planting : Tulipa saxatilis, Tulipa sylvestris, Tulipa turkestanica and Tulipa urumiensis as well as Narcissus ‘Angel’s Breath, Narcissus ‘Cheerfulness’, Narcissus bulbocodium ‘Mary Poppins’, Narcissus ‘Sinopel’, Narcissus ‘Tête-à-Tête’. I also found a few spots for Galanthus elwesii, Galanthus woronowii, and Scilla mischtschenkoana one of the first bulb names I had to learn at Kew.
I also played chauffeur to M. to the golf course and to the airport. I always enjoy doing something different, to keep my days interesting. He gave me a bottle of Puligny-Montrachet Les Meix from Burgundy; it was amazing.
Friday evening I went over to see Ilze and Daniela’s new place and trimmed their olive tree. It was a fun evening.
Saturday morning I couldn’t sleep, so at 05.30 I started roasting aubergines to make baba ghanoush, then roasted a chicken for a barbecue in the afternoon and baked a cake. It rained a bit while I was finally catching up on all my outstanding blog posts. Any rain is very welcome. Then, Mandy, Denis, Andre, Kim, Sophie and her mum all came over for what was supposed to be a barbecue on the beach. We had a great evening at mine instead.
Sunday I headed up to see Beth and David for a really nice afternoon, even with all the rain. They are still working to create a botanic garden of plants from Alpes-Maritimes.
Plant of the week
Euphorbiaceae Euphorbia milii Des Moul.
common name(s) - crown of thorns, Christ plant, Christ thorn
synonym(s) - Homotypic : Euphorbia breonii Nois., nom. illeg.; Euphorbia milii var. breonii (Nois.) Ursch & Leandri; Heterotypic : Euphorbia bojeri Hook.; Euphorbia bojeri var. mucronulata Ram.Goyena; Euphorbia milii f. lutea Leandri; Euphorbia milii var. milii; Euphorbia splendens var. bojeri (Hook.) Costantin & Gallaud; Euphorbia splendens subsp. bojeri (Hook.) Denis; Sterigmanthe bojeri (Hook.) Klotzsch & Garcke; Tumalis bojeri (Hook.) Raf.
conservation rating - Least Concern
native to - Madagascar
location - vieille ville Antibes
leaves - straight, slender, densely spiny, up to 30mm long, help it scramble over other plants; fleshy, green leaves are found mainly on new growth, and are up to 35mm long and 15mm broad
flowers - small, subtended by a pair of conspicuous petal-like bracts, variably red, pink or white, up to 12 mm broad; all year
fruit - capsule 3-lobed-ovoid, ca. 3.5 × 4 mm, smooth and glabrous; seeds ovoid-terete, ca. 2.5 × 2 mm, grey-brown, reticulate; caruncle absent; all year
habit - evergreen woody succulent subshrub or shrub, loose in form, growing to 1.8m tall
habitat - grows on a variety of bush and forest habitats, but always on rocks (usually granite formations) from center, southern and western Madagascar at an elevation of between 20–1609 m
pests - generally pest-free
disease - generally disease-free
hardiness - to 10ºC (H1b)
soil - dry to medium moisture, well-drained soils
sun - full sun; in hot summer climates, provide the plant with midday shade and moderate moisture for better flower bloom
propagation - seed as soon as ripe, annually in spring gives a better flowering display that year; also keeps growth in check and improves overall plant health
pruning - dead, damaged, shaping
nomenclature - Euphorbiaceae - Euphorbia - for Euphorbus, physician to the King of Mauritania, who used the latex of a spurge for medicinal purposes; milii - commemorates Baron Milius, once Governor of Réunion, who introduced the species to France in 1821
References :
Gledhill, David, (2008) “The Names of Plants”, fourth edition; Cambridge University Press; ISBN: 978-0-52168-553-5
IUCN [online] https://www.iucnredlist.org/species/44389/153299391 [13 Nov 22]
North Carolina State Extension [online] https://plants.ces.ncsu.edu/plants/euphorbia-milii/ [13 Nov 22]
Plants of the World [online] https://powo.science.kew.org/taxon/urn:lsid:ipni.org:names:347359-1 [13 Nov 22]
Royal Horticultural Society [online] https://www.rhs.org.uk/plants/32739/euphorbia-milii/details [13 Nov 22]
Wikipedia [online] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Euphorbia_milii [13 Nov 22]
World Flora Online [online] http://www.worldfloraonline.org/taxon/wfo-0000963364 [13 Nov 22]
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my dad told me that when its late and you are tired part of the brain that starts to tune out is the bit that lets you tell good ideas from bad(this was in the context of story ideas). i have to say on the other side when its late i loose the biot of anxiety that says to many things are a bad idea and then i can acctually write shit
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me: if i refresh twitter for the fifth time in a row maybe my fic will magically be done
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magic fields are to ley lines and magnetic fields are to electric currents
strength of the field is proportional to 1/r^2
direction of the field can be found using the right hand rule
existence of the field is conditional on the existence of a current i.e. motion of source particles
if the current is steady, the motion is constant in time
#im reading the chapter in my electrodynamics book about biot savart’s law#and i keep readig magnetic field as magic field so#here it is#fantasy#writing#physics#this has been a post
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just saw venom, might fuck around and write fanfics 🤡👉🏻👈🏻
venom: bitchin
me: simpin; a simp-biote if you will
WAS IT GOOD?! I'm downloading a pirate copy as I type - Can't go see it cuz Covid and I live with someone that's high risk. But I'mma pirate the hell out of it!
(And I may be writing a one shot fic that's inspired by the rave scene *coughcough*)
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hi can you recommend French books that take place in the 20th-21st century?
Hello, here are a few:
20ème:
Aragon’s Aurélien, Proust’s A la recherche du temps perdu (super duper long, I suggest Le Temps retrouvé), Camus’ L’Etranger, Breton’s Nadja (pretty), Beauvoir’s Mémoires d’une jeune fille rangée, Céline’s Voyage au bout de la nuit, Cohen’s Belle du seigneur, Ernaux’ La Honte, Kundera’s L’Ignorance, Duras’ L’Amant, Pagnol’s La Gloire de mon Père, Sarraute’s Enfance, Le Clézio’s Procès-Verbal, Perec’s W ou le souvenir d’enfance, Boileau-Narcejac’s Celle qui n’était plus, Butor’s La Modification, Robbe-Grillet’s Les Gommes, Vian’s L’Ecume des jours, Colette’s Le Blé en Herbe, Malraux’s La Condition Humaine, Mauriac’s Thérèse Desqueyroux, Sartre’s La Nausée, Ionesco’s La Cantatrice Chauve, Cocteau’s Les Enfants terribles, Kessel’s Les Mains du Miracle, Nothomb’s Hygiène de L‘assassin (she’s belgian but come on), Cixous’ Dedans...
21ème:
Beigbeder’s 99 francs, Pancol’s Les yeux jaunes des crocodiles, Barbery’s L’Elegance du hérisson, Vigan’s No et moi, Louis’ Qui a tué mon père, Bellanger’s La Théorie de l’information, Bordage’s L’Evangile du serpent, Angot’s Le Marché des Amants, Thilliez’s L’Anneau de Moebius, Ono-dit-biot’s Plonger, Huston’s Lignes de faille, Houellebecq’s Sérotonine, Enard’s Zone, Orsenna’s Princesse Histamine, Winckler’s Le Choeur des femmes, Vargas’ Temps glaciaires…
And probably loads more but I’m not a fan of modern literature and much more knowledgeable about XVIII/XIXth lit. Feel free to check out more of Nothomb’s and Thilliez’s (crime) stuff for XXIth century action, as well as the winners of literary rewards (prix Renaudot, Goncourt, Fémina…) from time to time - I did myself and authors seem to prefer writing about the past.
Hope this helps! x
#ask#books#read#practice#i really recommend no et moi#especially#if you relate to hermione granger#also la cantatrice chauve is hilarious
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Okay, me again 😂 Hope you're having a good day 💜 So, can I ask for another prompt, let's say, homesickness for Tymeo?
Hello again, my dear!! Worry not, you can ask all the prompts you wish, really… It’s much easier when people asks me prompt for a ship or another… on my own I get stuck most of the times trying to decide who should I write on.
Now, about this one prompt, it became a biot of an abstract concept, the homesickness. Especially because home is not the place but the person. also, the ending is open, because I couldn’t chose how to end it, actually. What Romeo will find in the end is up to you.
(Also, Catarina is the sweetest woman. she cares so much…)
***
@badthingshappenbingo
Prompt: Homesickness
Fandom: Romeo et Juliette
Ship: Tymeo
Venice wasn’t that bad, Tybalt had to agree; it was a bit wet, and humid, yes, but not entirely bad. Except for the part where he did not chose to spend the rest of his life there, alone. Not that he was truly alone, just –
“Are you ready?” He raised the head from the letter he had spent the last two hours writing and looked behind himself at the red haired woman on the door, looking smiling at him. He sighed.
“Yes. I just need to sign it and it will be done.” She nodded and laughed softly, hair bouncing slightly at the movement.
“Must truly be someone special if they receive a letter from you every week, my dear.” He nodded again and stood up, letter in hand and walked to her.
“My apologize for making you wait, again. - He took her hand and kissed her lightly. - We may go.”
Catarina took his arm and led the way, never stopping smiling, they left the letter to a courier and walked away.
“You don’t make me wait, you save me from all those small talks women will make during the party. Not even one that could understand politics or, for the matter, beauty. They’re so boring, so if your precious friend is worth all that time for a letter, then it’s perfectly fine for me.”
She was nice, and understanding, Tybalt liked her. But he couldn’t love her, that was beyond his abilities. First, she was ten years older than him. Normally it would have been the man being older, normally his uncle would have looked for a young lady, in her fourteens or something. But Catarina was, in his uncle’s opinion, the perfect match. - Yes. Perfect because she was still unmarried despite her beauty, and daughter to the Prince of Venice. That union would bring so much power to the Capulet’s family, more than anyone else except for the Escalus’ family. -
Second, he simply couldn’t give her his love since that was already taken by someone else, in Verona. His mysterious friend. His Romeo. - Same Romeo who, in the past letter, accused him of cheating on him. It took all of his calm to explain in the letter that he never chose that life and union and would return to Verona, and probably run away with him, any time, if only he could. -
Third, but that was mostly a secret Tybalt wasn’t completely sure of and preferred to keep for himself for the time being, his wife was quite in love with her personal maid.
Now he could only hope Romeo would understand.
Romeo sighed and clutched the letter at his chest, how stupid he had been, thinking Tybalt actually cheated on him, thinking he would go and marry that woman out of love. How stupid and childish. He knew better, deep down he knew, and yet he had let jealousy take over his hand during his last letter. Now he wanted to take that paper and replace every single word he had written with something better, words of love and kindness.
“I feel so stupid…” He sighed again, and Juliet laughed lightly.
“You were, yes. Just a bit. But I know my cousin, and I know for sure that once he loves someone he gives them everything.”
“I miss him.” He sighed again and she hummed.
“You could come with me next time I go visit him.” She proposed absentmindedly.
“Yeah… Like my family would let me go to Venice just because I want to… I appreciate the thought, Juliet, really, but –”
“If you were to be my husband then you would have every right to accompany me.”
It was sudden, incredibly sudden. Romeo turned to her with his eyes wide open.
“It – It wouldn’t – I wouldn’t … couldn’t – I…”
“I’m not asking you to love me, Romeo. - She said kindly. And a little amused too. - You’re cute, and with time I’m sure I would learn to love you, but I can’t ask you the same. It would be a way for you to come with me to Venice, be with my Tybalt for a little.”
“And we should simply say that… we will marry? That I asked you and you said yes… or something?”
“Or something. Yes.”
The plan was easy, so easy nothing could go wrong. - Except maybe for her father trying to change her mind first, threatening Romeo later and, lastly, trying to speak to the Prince about this absurd turning of things. The Prince gave them his blessing instead and threatened Lord Capulet of exile if he did anything against them. Maybe that would’ve been the thing that would finally bring peace, he though hopefully. -
“I thought you loved –” Romeo almost jumped at Mercutio when he opened his mouth.
“I did – I do. I still do. It’s complicated but like this I will have a chance to spend time with him, somehow. It’s… Complicated.” He repeated, and it was, indeed. It took him and Juliet hours to properly write their plan in a letter and send it.
There was just one small problem. Lord Capulet wrote him too.
Tybalt felt sick, he felt a pang in his heart, he felt tears forming in his eyes. He crumbled up the letter and threw it in the fireplace. In truth there was no anger nor rage in him, he trembled slightly and fell on his knees.
“I miss home.” He said to Catarina just the day before, both sitting in the library, almost distracted. “I miss the people, the air in Verona and its streets. And I miss him. Like air.”
“The one you always write to, my dear?” Tybalt nodded.
“He’s like home. Feels like home, tastes like home. I feel so lost. - He looked up suddenly worried. - Not that I’m not happy here. Everyone is kind, you are kind and I like you, very much. But –”
“But you’re homesick, I understand. He must be truly amazing, maybe next time you should invite him here.”
“No one knows about us. Or I would’ve been already dead.”
“They don’t need to know. - She casted a quick look at a maid collecting some cups from a nearby table, Tybalt saw the way she looked back. - You’ll just invite a friend in our house, so that this will be home for you too, for a little.”
The day he arrived to Venice to marry Lady Catarina he thought he wouldn’t even like her, in any way. He had been wrong. There was no love between them, not the kind of love one expected from husband and wife, they simply were friends. And it was enough, for both of them.
He should’ve known better, he thought sadly, he should’ve known better than trusting a Montague.
And yet he did trusted him, he loved him, he gave him his heart, and what for? To have it crushed like this?
After all of his words about betrayal and cheating he went and married Juliet. How hypocrite of him. How –
Tybalt felt sick. Actually sick, physically sick.
The fire burned every single word his uncle wrote him, slowly he felt his body getting more and more tired and heavy, tears falling down his cheeks silently. He slid on the floor on his side and the world darkened upon him.
- Oh, the fear Catarina felt when she walked in the room only to find her husband lying unconscious on the floor! -
She eyed Romeo doubtfully when he appeared before her next to Juliet. That was him, then. That was the boy.
“Welcome to Venice.” She force a smile standing from her armchair by the large window and leaving the open book on the table. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.” She had to be kind, if not for him or herself than for her husband.
“Thank you Catarina. But tell me, where is my dear cousin? I’m sure he’ll be so happy to have us here.” Romeo looked around, almost hoping Tybalt to suddenly appear. But he didn’t and Catarina’s eyes darkened just a little.
“My husband is very sick right now. - She confessed. - A strange sickness, something doctor’s can’t explain.” Romeo felt all color drain from his face. He couldn’t be sick… They were supposed to spend the whole week together, he –
She led them to the bedroom and Romeo followed almost automatically until she stopped in front of a closed door.
“He feels like his home had been destroyed leaving him with nowhere to go. Lost. - There was a light accusation in her voice but all Romeo could see was the door. He yearned to enter, to be with his Tybalt, to make things right. Whatever happened he must have not believed their letter. Or maybe he didn’t even receive it. He had to change that. He had to fix that. He had to explain. - Maybe you can cure him. I hope you can.”
She took Juliet’s arm and walked away as Romeo gently pushed the door, entered and closed it behind himself. He hoped he could do it too.
#tymeo#angst#whump#abstract home concept#prompt: homesickness#bad things happen bingo#bthb#romeo et juliette#retj#fanfic#prompt#aki writes
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Kickstarter Visual Novels
Lately, I’ve been playing demos of four visual novels on Kickstarter. One of them has a successful campaign that’s already over while the other three have ongoing campaigns.
The Divine Speaker
Developer: Two and a Half Studios @thedivinespeakervn
The crowdfunding campaign for this visual novel is over, and it managed to raise AU$29,499 (about US$20,415), more than the set goal of AU$16,060 (about US$11,114).
It’s a BL game, meaning that the protagonist and all love interests are male, so I’d expect MLM players to get interested in this. The current demo hasn’t presented the third love interest, a blond guy named Cyne, yet.
The story’s about an orphan named Raen who just turned 18, encountered some secrets from the local leader with the power to determine every newborn’s fate, and gets kicked out of the city and into the woods in the process, leaving behind the only known civilization in the setting. Along the way, he encounters some guys around his journey around the woods and learns that there’s some thing out there and there’s more to the civilization than meets the eye.
One thing that got me intrigued about the story is the mystery behind Aurelia Cavella’s history and the mystery of the woods marking the end of civilization. That got me interested in how the story will unfold as Raen uncovers the mystery. Another thing I like is Fawn, whose adorkable nature towards Raen and love for animals has endeared to me so far.
Since funding for the game is over, that means there’s nothing else I can say about this other than the fact that I look forward to its release next year. In the meantime, the extended demo will be out soon.
Whiteheart Woods
Developer: NoBread Studio @nobreadstudio
The campaign for this visual novel has about slightly less than a day left to reach its goal of €15,000 (about $16,917), yet the amount pledge has reached about two-thirds of its goal as of this writing. The story’s a supernatural mystery, so anyone who likes that stuff are in for a treat.
The protagonist is male, and his name can’t be changed. Moreover, his personality, background, and characterization are set in stone. There are four love interests: three female and one male.
The story starts with the protagonist having a dream about being in the woods with two girls named Sylvia and Marie, only to wake up during class. He meets and reconnects with the two girls in his dreams and a boy (Noah) who shows up late to class. Afterwards, they fly to an old cabin in the woods, and the demo ends when they reached the cabin and opened up the mailbox.
I enjoy the demo and its setup. The first scene left me wanting to know about the mystery about the cabin in the woods. The primary characters shown so far (the protagonist, the three love interests shown, and two supporting characters) are interesting in their own right, and the interactions are good so far. Only one love interest hasn’t been shown, however. I like how Sylvia (the redhead) has an outgoing personality that contrasts neatly with Marie (the blonde) and Noah (the white haired guy), who are more reserved.
I feel a bit sad that this campaign most likely won’t reach its funding goal in time. I just hope they won’t give up regardless of outcome.
Silver:Line
Developer: CodeV
This one’s interesting. The artwork for the characters are 3D instead of 2D, we play as a supporting character of each of the love interests’ stories, we can play as a male or female, and there are six love interests (four of them are present in the demo, and all of them available for both genders). Funding has reached about 47% of its goal of S$23,000 (about US$16,907) as of this writing.
The beginning of the story reminds me of The Crown & The Flame, one of the stories from Choices: Stories You Play @playchoices. In this case, we play as a scholar who was framed for killing the king and queen. There are also classical tropes like your friend’s the long-lost son of the king, one of the love interests is the last surviving member of her kind, and whatnot. Nevertheless, I still enjoy what the demo has offered so far, and I look forward to more of it. My only concern is that the narrative should be mindful of the setting, because one scene is described as “something from a horror movie”. That turned me off a little because this is a setting where movies don’t exist, so I suggest fixing this to something more in-line with the setting. Still something I’m checking out, though.
Synthetic Lover
Developer: Irlana @knight–of–hearts
The campaign for this visual novel has slightly less than a week left, and it has reached about 71% from reaching its goal of CA$11,200 (about US$8,589) as of this writing. The story’s about some sort of robot called a biot who gains self-awareness after an altercation with a customer. Along the way, he tries to find answers for his predicament before his makers destroy him.
Like The Divine Speaker, Synthetic Lover is a BL game. Only this time, there are only two love interests: Bastian, a bartender and the customer who triggered the protagonist’s self-awareness, and Terrance, who works for the company who creates biots. This is going to be an interesting fuel for drama. The story kind of reminds me of Perfect Match, another story by Choices: Stories You Play @playchoices, except that the protagonist is a robot instead of a human.
Anyone interested in MLM romance is in for a treat with this one as well as The Divine Speaker.
If anyone is interested in any of the ongoing campaigns and can afford to back any of them, feel free to do so, and don’t hesitate to spread the word about them.
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Title: Gift Advice
Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Estinien Varlineau. Regarding Riven de Fortemps
Rating: Teen
Summary: Estinien seeks advice from Zoissette, which is a little like the blind leading the blind, but at least they are blind together so there is that
Notes: You'll want to be up to speed on @scrollsfromarebornrealm's body of work. In particular, this work is at least part of the context.
~*~
Estinien strode into the Gage Acquisitions vehicle bay, looking back and forth only briefly before looking up to espy his quarry.
“Zoissette. I was looking for you.”
Zoissette was high up, where one of the submersibles was suspended from the ceiling, with her suspended underneath it. She had a shirt tied around her waist, and looked over at Estinien as she reached into one of the many work pouches dangling off her belt.
“And you have found me. The first person today to do so without me having to yell down at them, in fact.”
“And how many of them were Ishgardian, I wonder?”
“Hmn. Point. Hardly anybody ever looks up, but we had dragons to contend with.”
“Indeed.”
Estinien watched as Zoissette swung around in her harness to access another part of the submersible, settling in before prying off a panel.
“I was hoping you might give me some advice. As a woman.”
“My first bit of advice is to ask someone else. I am crap at being a woman.”
Estinien snorted with a smile. “Despite that, you have insight and experience that I lack. And besides, you are courting a woman very much like my own. Perhaps one with a more vexatious temperament, but no less fiery a spirit.”
“I am telling both of them you said that.”
“Tell them what you wish, I have told no lies.”
Zoissette flipped her goggles up. “This is serious, then?”
“Indeed.”
“Alright. Give me a moment, I need to set the sump to drain.”
Estinien watched as she reached deep into the panel she had just opened, a hose in one hand, leaning way in to do her work. Her free hand occasionally went for her tool pouch as she did her work.
“I did not realize you had picked up the wrench.”
“I wanted to be useful,” she replied. “And my aether is still blocked. Maybe I work around that. Maybe I get used to being support. Right now, I am useful.”
“Thancred manages.”
“I know.”
The hose she was holding was transparent, and Estinien could see a black fluid begin to flow through it as she leaned back from her work. They both watched as it flowed down, slowly but surely, until it made its way down to a tub.
Apparently satisfied, Zoissette pulled the harness up until she abandoned it to perch on top of the submarine instead.
“So, what is on your mind?”
“As you may have guessed, this is about my lady, Riven.”
“I am still listening. Go on,” she said, as she began to inspect one of the submersible’s lenses.
“I had hoped… well. I had rather hoped for a lot of things, in our relationship. But just now, I was hoping to make a gesture that she would appreciate. Something romantic. And also, something that would help me feel a bit more… grounded, as I travel.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“No less than a token, similar to that which Y’shtola gifted to you. I see you wear it even now”
Zoissette smiled softly, and wiped one of her hands free of grease off on a cloth tied around her waist, before reaching up to lightly touch her fingers to the twin black carnations on her ear.
“But rather more similar to what Thancred shared with Aeryn. I look upon it, and I feel a sense of… longing, to have something like that of my own.”
“There is a story around that bracelet, you know. Maybe ask Thancred about that rather than Urianger.”
“I am aware of the history of that particular bauble and its implications. I intend to make my own story of the matter. A bracelet, between her and me. A show of devotion, and a reminder for me of what we have. I also believe she would appreciate it.”
“That sounds nice. Why do you want my advice, again?”
“On the matter of how I present it. I wish to have this … discussion… with her as I present the bracelet, to make sure I do not overstep my bounds as Thancred nearly did, to hear the tale. But I do want the matter and the moment itself to be meaningful. It seems like as not that there will be much travel in our future. I was considering presenting it during a voyage. Make a bit of a pleasant surprise out of the matter. Perhaps with a sunrise as an appropriate backdrop. I sense there is some poetry in presenting it during dawn while we both travel.”
Zoissette bit her lip as she stopped what she was doing, and turned her full attention to Estinien.
“Like, on a ship?”
“Aye.”
Zoissette set her tools down, and frowned. Estinien found a spot of wall to lean against, and made himself comfortable. He was well aware of the tells when Zoissette was thinking. She might well be a minute.
“Estinien.”
“Aye.”
“You know how sometimes you get a feeling, deep in your chest, and that feeling gets to be too big for you, and it feels like it is going to overwhelm you, and it pushes you to do something, do anything?”
Estinien grunted. “Often enough.”
“Right. And you usually handle it by taking to the clouds.”
He felt defensive, a bit. “It helps me to gain distance from a situation, and gives me time to clear my head.”
“Okay. Now imagine you cannot take to the skies for whatever reason. Or maybe you can, but you cannot stay away up there, because there is only one tiny little speck of land you can survive on, and you are going to have to go right back to it, and right back to where you had that big feeling and have it all over again except now it is worse because you know, you know, you cannot escape.”
Zoissette sat cross-legged on the submarine hull, and with an elbow on her knee rested her head in her hand as she watched his face carefully.
“Do you really want to do that to Riven?”
Oh.
Now that she had pointed it out, it did seem kind of obvious. Estinien sunk his face slowly into his palm, and groaned at himself.
“Aye, I… see your point.”
“Maybe just talk to her.”
“I had hoped for the surprise, to make the moment seem more special. That feels important to me. I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”
“You do realise Shtola asked me, right? I well and truly do not know what I am doing. Oh. Huh. She has… taken the initiative on a lot of our malmstones, actually. I should rectify that.”
Zoissette dug out a journal from one of her pouches and began to scribble in it.
“Maybe I could ask the Lord Fortemps for his advice. He treats with her as a daughter.”
“Counter suggestion. Maybe you could ask one of her sworn brothers. They know her better than anyone.”
Estinien grimaced. “We have a history, and this may be a moment where they may offer mischief, especially given that it concerns Riven. They can be fiercely protective of her, and given that history, I cannot say as I blame them.”
“Well, you are a dragoon, are you not? If they give you trouble, just have a good old knock down drag out fight with them and make up as best buddies afterward. I have it on good authority that is how the Fury’s misbegotten children sort out their differences.”
She grinned at him, and he barked out a laugh in response.
“This from the Holy Ground Corps that is too good for real fighting? Not all of them are dragoons, though, as well you know, and I would prefer not to antagonize them further. Though… do you think that would work?”
“I think it would make incredible Gil in the betting pool.”
“I forgot about your terrible love for the numbers of games.”
Zoissette just shrugged cheerfully, and turned her attention to inspecting another submarine lens. Estinien settled in to watch her for a bit, and eventually she stopped to stare at the ceiling.
Thinking again. She always did get so lost in the details. Well, that was why he had come here to her. Anyone could have pointed out the problems in his plans. She was like to give him solutions that he could work.
“Try them anyroad. Sebastian is your best bet, I think. I suspect he is least likely to be bull headed on the matter. Or if you like, I can talk to him on your behalf, get his insights for how she might feel about the matter.”
“I think I would prefer to fight my own battles.”
Zoissette nodded. “Try asking him, then. He is Sharlayan, though, so he likes to act like he knows everything. Try to look past that, compensate for some of his assumptions, and you can find good guidance in what he says. He will likely have his own suggestions as well. At the very least, he is most likely to steer you away from trouble.”
“And courting Y’shtola, I suppose you would know a great deal about dealing with a ‘know-it-all’.”
“Oh, I think Y’shtola only speaks precisely to what she knows. With her it is more of a problem that she thinks she knows the best of anyone in the room.”
“I am not sure I see the difference.”
Zoissette just gave him a little side smile, and Estinien decided perhaps some depths were best left unplumbed by the likes of him.
“For what it is worth,” she said, “I believe she is getting better at sharing. Not just her knowledge, but the burden of… responsibility, I guess? Hard to say precisely what I am trying to mean. But she is not like she used to be.”
“Are any of us? But I do appreciate your candor. And your willingness to speak plainly with me, even if my ideas are foolish.”
Zoissette stopped what she was doing, and looked over at Estinien.
“I want to be sappy for a moment. Is that okay with you?”
Estinien shrugged. “It makes no difference to me, but if that is to be the price of your advice, I pay it gladly.”
Zoissette nodded. “I appreciate ... this. You are one of the few people on the star I feel like I can really talk to. Not making assumptions about what I should or should not know, not taking offense just because I say something true.”
“Hmph. Unlike many who profess to truth, yours is never delivered with malevolence.”
“I am glad you understand.”
“As well as anyone could understand you, I think. Well, then. I thank you for your advice, and I believe I shall be taking my leave now. Good luck with that witch of yours. I suspect you’ll be needing it.”
Zoissette shifted around to make eye contact with Estinien, and gave him an honest, genuine smile.
“Goodbye, Estinien,” she said, her tone no less honest in its fondness.
Estinien bowed, and turned to pull on the lever that opened the hatch leading back out of the vehicle bay. He returned Zoissette’s look with a faint fond smirk of his own.
“Take care… Lady Vauban,” he said, chuckling as he quickly closed the hatch just in time to hear the clang of Zoissette’s wrench against it as she threw it.
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The Power of the Dystopia
What do nanotechnology, young adult dystopias, and zombies learning to love again have in common? As the old meme says, the answer may surprise you. By nanotechnology I mean Michael Grant’s BZRK trilogy, by young adult dystopias I will focus mostly on The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, and by zombies learning to love again I am referencing Isaac Marion’s Warm Bodies. Each of these books will be discussed in great depth in how they relate to the common theme of power in the following collection of literary criticisms. Power surfaces in BZRK through the obsessive lengths the characters go to to maintain it with superior technology and firepower. The Hunger Games refrains from the subject of actively maintaining power, but its story accurately depicts a society where power is exploited to keep its poorer citizens in line. The zombies in Warm Bodies regain power in a world that exists to destroy them by relearning language. Again, each of those topics will be explained at the introduction’s conclusion in their individual essays, but I will add a bit more clarity later on in these opening remarks.
This issue, which puts power front and center in the spotlight, tackles problems pertinent to the world we live in today by using a wide variety of popular books to reach the widest reader base possible. All of them can be considered young adult fiction, but each series pushes the boundaries of the genre. The Hunger Games specifically doubles as political commentary, BZRK is hardcore science fiction written for the eyes of teenagers, and Warm Bodies is technically a zombie romance.
As previously stated, The Hunger Games is political commentary, which only gets all the sweeter the more the political scene in the United States and around the world goes south. The main character Katniss lives in District 12, the poorest of the twelve districts, and is forced to hunt illegally to keep her mother and sister fed. District 1, the wealthiest district home to people so rich they take medicine to force themselves to throw up at parties so they can continue eating the fanciest, most expensive food, holds the Hunger Games every year to keep all the other districts in line. All three books in the series have the same background: the rich exist to stay rich, and the rich have all the power, so when District 13 starts the rebellion it sends them into a panic. The entirety of Mockingjay, the third book of the trilogy, is about that very topic. Money plus power equals bad guy, especially in this series. In regards to the essay on The Hunger Games, not only is there a common theme of power in all three books and all four movies, there are also real-life connotations for both the people spending money on the series and the young adult genre in general. While the essay specifically talks about the genre and what political books do for readers of young adult fiction, The Hunger Games just so happens to be the most popular representation.
BZRK also deals with money and power and rich people trying to control the universe, but this time it is set in contemporary New York, rather than the fictional Panem. In this universe nanotechnology, which was originally developed to cure cancer, is instead weaponized and is used by both the good and the bad guys. The bad guys, the Armstrong twins and their lackeys Nexus Humanus, want to use nanotech to brainwash the planet into their cult through “sustainable happiness.” The good guys, BZRK, want to protect free will by using their own nanotechnology, biots individually linked to one user, to manipulate others. The whole concept is built on shady deals and backwards justification on both ends of the stick. Both sides think they are in the right, think they are the ones with access to the most power, both already have access to the money and resources that will get them that power. The Armstrong twins spend the series doing everything they possibly can to become rulers of the world, while their second in command Bernofsky goes mad with power and wants to destroy the world with nanobots that feed on carbon. Most of BZRK New York’s plotlines are about playing catch up to Nexus Humanus and holding on to what little power they have. By the trilogy’s conclusion the proper balance that everyone was fighting over has been restored, eliminating the need for technology-based power.
A book about zombies learning to love again seems like a stretch. How could power possibly be involved? Half the main characters are dead. And judging by the movie, there is no possible way for the former dead to regain the power they lost upon getting into their current predicament by reteaching themselves how to speak and act human again. But there it is. The movie is a better illustration of it, but the novel still details R, an incredibly articulate zombie, struggling through a language barrier to communicate with his human captive turned friend turned girlfriend Julie. At the beginning the most R can get out are a few grunts to the zombie he deems his best friend, M. When Julie finds herself the survivor of a zombie attack but the only member of her group still alive and unable to make it back home, she ends up at the airport R lives in. The two of them form a relationship different from the usual zombie eats human, even though R ate Julie’s boyfriend during the attack where they met. Julie teaches R English, pop culture, and how to be human again. The zombies must fight to prove they can become what they once were again, first and foremost by Julie demonstrating R is physically able to love her. As they become living again they go through their own revolution.
These essay’s order in this collection is due to their subject matter and relativity to the real world. The Hunger Games takes place in a fictional country similar enough to our own to make accurate political commentary. BZRK takes place in real life New York, and its plot is one that might happen with how quickly nanotechnology is developing. Warm Bodies’ setting is never specified, but the aftermath of the apocalypse is clear, and for all we know it could be right next door to where we grew up. They move from the clearly fake to the it might just be real, from this could never happen to me to holy crap, this might be happening right now. Please see the meanings these novels preach, what lurks between the lines. Right now this kind of commentary is more important than ever. With people being censored and completely silenced right and left, these books are clearly about power and its consequences, both by exploiting it and by regaining it.
"If Peeta and I were both to die, or they thought we were....My fingers fumble with the pouch on my belt, freeing it. Peeta sees it and his hand clamps on my wrist. ‘No, I won't let you.’ ‘Trust me,’ I whisper. He holds my gaze for a long moment then lets go. I loosen the top of the pouch and pour a few spoonfuls of berries into his palm. Then I fill my own. ‘On the count of three?’ Peeta leans down and kisses me once, very gently. ‘The count of three,’ he says. We stand, our backs pressed together, our empty hands locked tight. ‘Hold them out. I want everyone to see,’ he says. I spread out my fingers, and the dark berries glisten in the sun. I give Peeta's hand one last squeeze as a signal, as a good-bye, and we begin counting. ‘One.’ Maybe I'm wrong. ‘Two.’ Maybe they don't care if we both die. ‘Three!’ It's too late to change my mind. I lift my hand to my mouth taking one last look at the world. The berries have just passed my lips when the trumpets begin to blare. The frantic voice of Claudius Templesmith shouts above them. ‘Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the 74th Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you - the tributes of District 12!’” (The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins).
Young Adult dystopias have been an important part of American culture for so long it feels like they have always been there. As children we had The Hunger Games, which later spawned Divergent, The Maze Runner, Uglies, and countless others. In school we read 1984, Brave New World, Fahrenheit 451, A Clockwork Orange, and the list goes on and on. Their movie and television show adaptations are everywhere. Everyone has a favorite example. So when Moretti's data suggests the genre bubble will burst in the coming years, it is kind of hard to believe. The genre is still going strong, and for good reason. Young Adult dystopias have something the classics neglect: diversity. Katniss Everdeen is a physically and mentally disabled woman of color surrounded by other females, people of color, people with disabilities, people from every walk of life. When The Hunger Games shot up the best sellers list Katniss inspired Tris Pryor in Divergent, Teresa in The Maze Runner, and Tally Youngblood in Uglies. The sheer volume of books and characters guarantees there is something for everyone. Everyone turned out to be mostly adult women and teenage girls. It is the reading power of the latter that presents my point: so long as we live in the world we do, with the current political climate active, and with a steady stream of strong female characters willing to stand up to oppressors, there will be a need for the genre. Multiple people see that need and write books based upon what they think needs to be said. This bubble, much like the superhero movie one, will stay untouched until the world proves it has no need for that kind of fiction anymore. Therefore, I think the genre is here to stay for years to come.
Seeing yourself in a character on the big screen or on the page is so incredibly important. Some little girl with hearing issues read about Katniss' ear trauma and saw herself; if for whatever reason she was unable to get it fixed, related to Katniss refusing surgery to restore her hearing. Or someone living under an oppressive government learning first that they should fight back and then it is okay to do so. Or that people bullying you for something outside your control deserve to be called out on their behavior. Or any number of things prevalent in what makes it big in the genre these days. The books that make it big pave the way for even greater diversity to truly reach the entire reader base. Those might carry on as something no one has ever heard of, but reach the right audience and lives can be changed. I feel like the genre will be around for quite a while. Not just because it is one of my favorites to both read and write for, but also because it is important. We are faced with the possibility of the complete destruction of life as we know it. Someone must recognize what is going on and do something about it. At this point they might as well be fictional, but that is the only way to get the ball rolling.
“Tell me something, Noah. Which is more important: freedom or happiness?' What was this, a game? But Nijinsky wasn't smiling. 'You can't be happy unless you’re free,' Noah said" (BZRK, Michael Grant).
Michael Grant's BZRK trilogy depends upon nanotechnology to further its plot, give motivation for characters and their development, provide multiple bad guys, and generally make BZRK what they are. One of the main character's father invented biots, part human machines smaller than the head of a needle, capable of acting on the controller's behalf within a body. The good guys, BZRK, use biots reluctantly to fight the bad guys, Armstrong Fancy Gifts Corporation. AFGC is a cover for the cult Nexus Humanus which wants to take away free will to guarantee eternal happiness. This war is mostly fought at the nano level. Even during "macro" fights, with guns and fists, the focus is always on protecting the nano. Emphases placed on the nano and neglecting the macro, which is only protected by BZRK's enforcer Caligula, exists because of only looking at the available technology and how to improve it. When the original tech, designed to cure cancer, fails and is proven archaic, BZRK only wants to move forward with more advanced biots. Benjamin argues for only looking to the future, for using tech to get and maintain power. The Armstrong twins (founders of AFGC) only maintain their power through superior firepower and lots of unethical manipulation. Under the guise of innocent gift shops across the globe they plot to control world leaders and, therefore, everyone on the planet. That is an extension of Benjamin's philosophy. AFGC has money and manpower, giving them the ability to accomplish their goals. BZRK only has the money, but its members are determined to prevent doomsday. Their conflict over who's in control spans three novels.
There is a connection here with how the world is going today. We even touched upon it in class. For the longest time everyone was obsessed with the technology of tomorrow made today. Classic standbys like books or physical music or playing outside fell by the wayside as electronics fell in the hands of the youth. Why use what cavemen did when you can use what Marty McFly did? For the longest time my younger sister and I were the only kids on our street playing outside. We made fun of our neighbors three doors down for having a pool and never going in it. My parents still can't drag me out of ours. At restaurants we read books, my sister drew and I wrote or, heaven forbid, actually talked to each other. Then, out of nowhere, that changed. The many, many little kids living in the cul-de-sac behind us were outside screaming at all hours of the day. One time we saw our neighbors in their pool. Tables around us when we went out to eat started implementing a no phones rule. The shift was real and, according to the Internet, commonplace. Retro was becoming hip again. We aren't the only people who feel that way, but we're the ones making it happen.
"In my mind I am eloquent; I can climb intricate scaffolds of words to reach the highest cathedral ceilings and paint my thoughts. But when I open my mouth, everything collapses” (Warm Bodies, Isaac Marion).
Whoever controls language controls culture. Whoever controls the culture has all the power. Whoever has all the power writes all the rules, determines humanity's fate, and generally determines the ongoing nature of life. While a lot of stories tackle that concept, Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion handles it without beating around the bush. It's about the aftermath of the zombie apocalypse, sure, but it is told through the point of view of a very articulate zombie. The narrative hints rather heavily at the main character, R, being the only zombie outside of the Boneys capable of higher thought. It is only with the help of a human that he learns basic speech. The surviving humans are the only ones capable of speech, of making sure human culture does not die out. Them being able to talk makes them superior to zombies, even after zombies become human again at the novel's conclusion. The settlement the novel focuses on is run based on that fact. It is only poetic that the leader, Colonel Grigio, is the father of the woman R is in love with and the one who sparks the change from zombie to human. Colonel Grigio controls the whole narrative, both the book's and the city he runs. Zombies are to be shot on sight, anything dead must stay out of the walled city, and the language he uses to spread that information reflects how deeply rooted his control extends. On the other hand, R is the first zombie capable of replicating full human speech. By the end the other zombies learn speech as well. Them relearning speech perfectly coincides with them wrenching power from the Boneys in their twisted society and, a bit later, wrenching power from the humans when they rejoin the society they used to know. Language lets them write their own culture again, this time as rediscovered human beings.
I feel like not a lot of zombie books take advantage of exploring the concept of retaking a culture through language. It is a topic that is easily applicable to the genre. World War Z comes close, but that is the best example I can think of. What is happening right now with millennials and gen z is the closest real-life example. I tried tackling the concept in my own zombie novel Flowers Die specifically because I am unable to find anything quite like Warm Bodies or even World War Z on bookshelves. The main character comes back from the dead, but because she reanimated through the original radiation and not a classic bite, she is still fully mentally articulate and, later, verbally as well. As the apocalypse spreads zombies like her become increasingly rarer. She joins the military and fights to take back the culture she once knew by force. Her and her friends are superior by nature. Her husband, who eventually dies to prove the point, used to be a lawyer, defending traditional culture with evolving language. Later on, she meets a young woman trapped by isolation in the woods bound by her lack of language and loss of the culture that raised her. Reintroduction to what she used to know helps bring her back. This is all a work in progress, but as the old saying goes, if you want something specific you have to write it yourself.
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You get two: ⭐ for Bearing Sins of the Past while it's still fresh in your mind; and a fresh ⭐star⭐ for something you've been dying to talk about, well, here is the invitation to do so and a venue to boot! (@driftward)
Reblog this if you want readers to come into your ask box and ask for the “director’s commentary” on a particular story, section of a story, or set of lines.
Or, send in a ⭐star⭐ to have the author select a section they’ve been dying to talk about!
Who's the menace now, coming in here with 2 requests? But sure.
Also: this prompt was sent by my beta reader for the named fic, so they have seen the major parts of the revision in full!
Bearing Sins of the Past is something I have plonked at for the last 2+ years between other writing projects; sometimes editing and rewriting things there could help shake dust loose when another story had me stymied. But with Endwalker, This Home Wrested Forth for the DRKzine, and life in general, it just took awhile.
Part of that were some scenes I felt I wanted to add, and going back and forth on whether or not I wanted to keep the single sex scene in the Ao3 posted work. In the end, though it's not actually Aeryn's conception (I specifically made the timeline not match up even during the 24 hour prompts), I felt the scene did show not only some effects drinking Avengret's blood had on Corran, but how he felt about his wife, aspects of their relationship, and their conscious decision to have another child--without Corran knowing or thinking about the effect of his choices on said child.
Adding in a scouting scene with Heustienne took much longer to sort out, and it's still obviously a bridge chapter, but it gives her a little more time in the story when so much else is focused around Alberic and Corran, or from Estinien's POV. The scene with Tarresson and Gullinbursti from FFXIV Write is gone, but replaced with a new chapter after Aeryn learns the truth, one I'd already had half-written back during the 2021 challenge, actually, but found no room for in those prompts. I also wanted to keep Emelia's voice in there; Corran tends to put her on a pedestal in his POV chapters. Her chapter is heavily shuffled around, as it has to do with memories and what triggers them (and the later vignettes from Thavnair are gone).
I spent a good chunk of time moving sections of text around, recombining chapters; some were obvious, others were not. Some things shuffled around to many places before settling where they belong.
Also sorry, FCmates, but in interests of fairness and a tad less confusion, the cameos are gone. I may still tweak the climactic scene, actually, and remove my other OCs and stick to NPCs entirely. Haven't decided and I have time yet; I just posted chapter 1 yesterday and that's chapter 15, after all.
I really don't stop iterating and editing until I actually post. After that, it's generally just minor typo and wording fixes.
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And I am making Biot send me separate prompts cuz there's always more to yell about but this is long enough!
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Blame It On The Eggnog by Jami Davenport is now live!
https://geni.us/BIOTE
Get It on All Platforms
Jacques:
I'm a single father, and I've had all the change I can handle: Retirement from the sport I love, a crazy ex-wife in prison, and five kids who need me more than ever. I don't have time for a relationship, let alone one with the interfering mother of the best player on the hockey team I'm coaching. She’s annoying as hell, but she’s also equally on my mind.
Serenity:
I'm a hockey mom and proud of it. I'm also the over-protective mother of a talented daughter hell-bent on playing with the boys. I'm determined that my daughter gets a shot at her dream despite her gender, even if it means butting heads with the team's rigid and hot AF coach. I have no intention in falling for this brooding man with a houseful of children, but sometimes life doesn't stick to the plan.
We wanted to blame it on the eggnog, but there's no denying our chemistry. Can two single parents find love and healing in the magic of a Garland Grove Christmas, or will our complicated lives ruin the best thing that's ever happened to us?
Garland Grove is the creation of four friends and USA Today bestsellers: Jami Davenport, Kat Mizera, Kelly Jamieson, and Tess Thompson. Journey with us to the quaint town of Garland Grove set in the mountains of British Columbia as our characters find true love when they're least expecting it.
Check out the entire Romancing the Rink Series!
https://www.ellewoodspr.com/romancingtherink
About the Author:
USA Today Bestselling Author Jami Davenport writes sexy contemporary and sports romances, including her two new indie endeavors: the Game On in Seattle Series and the Madrona Island Series. Jami’s new releases consistently rank in the top fifty on the sports romance and sports genre lists on Amazon, and she has hit the Amazon top hundred authors list in both contemporary romance and genre fiction multiple times. Jami ranked Number Seven on Kobo’s Top Ten Most Completed Authors, an honor bestowed on the year’s “most engaging” authors based on an average page completion rate by their readers.
Jami lives on a small farm near Puget Sound with her Green Beret-turned-plumber husband, a Newfoundland cross with a tennis ball fetish, a prince disguised as an orange tabby cat, and an opinionated Hanoverian mare.
Jami works in IT for her day job and is a former high school business teacher. She’s a lifetime Seahawks and Mariners fan and is waiting for the day professional hockey comes to Seattle. An avid boater, Jami has spent countless hours in the San Juan Islands, a common setting in her books. In her opinion, it’s the most beautiful place on earth.
Connect with Jami!
Subscribe to my newsletter to receive a free novel and be notified of new releases, special sales, and contests: http://eepurl.com/LpfaL
Website Address: http://www.jamidavenport.com
Twitter Address: @jamidavenport
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Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1637218.Jami_Davenport
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Does fanart ever inspire your writing?
Sometimes! Actually, I meant to do a post for this and forgot 😅 So I've never had a fanart inspire plot really, but I have had it inspire setting! Below is a list, as complete as I can make it.
Some pieces of art have helped motivate me when I was already working on a fic with a similar setting, but I see that more as me bending the art around the idea I have in my head rather than it inspiring me. Sometimes I wanna tag art I see with my preexisting AUs if it fits, but I worry that the artist might not like it, especially if it's for their own AU, so I usually only do that if it's the piece of art that kicked off me making the AU in the first place because then it's like "Hey, you arted so good it made me write a thing."
SLAS: As mentioned in the second author's note, I started thinking about an ex-assassin bodyguard AU primarily because of this art. Though bodyguards was a trope I had been eyeing beforehand, that art turned it into inescapable brainrot.
OTOS: The fic was completely my own, but one of the smut scenes in the final chapter was inspired by an art done by Jem. It's NSFW so I'm not sure about linking it directly here, but it's linked in the final chapter's author's note.
BIOTS: This is halfsie, but I'll include it. The smutfic of the Greys/Waiting For My Spaceship To Come Back For Me series includes glowdora (Glowing!Adora), which has been featured in art on NSFW SPOP Twitter. A friend and I were actually talking about glowdora in DMs literally two weeks before we saw the art for it start, though, so it's kinda handwavey, and no one particular piece of it is responsible. The art did inspire me, but the idea also wasn't unique to the art.
iHTWcyn: Only halfsies again. I had the idea already, saw a piece of art of farm girl Adora that I can't for the life of me find now, and just sighed and made a new word document LOL. The art is somewhere on my blog but I'm not going digging for it now considering it was just the push I needed to write the idea down. This was back in December and I'm not scrolling that far.
Three Makes Two: The kitten brainrot took me because of a mamacatradora that my friend @jem-jarrett (once again) did, but it's not posted and it's for another AU that isn't mine so I can't link it. However, it did feature Catra and Adora wearing babyslings and carrying their two kittens around, which gave me brainrot and led to me writing TMT. It shares no similarities with the AU the art was originally made for, but that's what kicked it off.
Lullaby of the Drowned: Another halfies inspiration. I had been thinking about various ways to do a mermaid AU since late 2020 and narrowed in on the idea of a Pirate Catra/Siren Adora AU in April of 2021. I even added the AU to my upcoming projects list on May 18th under the name “Carry Me To Unknown Shores” (which I only changed after I started writing the fic). There had been various pieces of mermaid art (some generic and some for She-ra) that made me go “damn, I gotta get back to that mermaid AU” but this one is the one that gave me the idea for Adora’s siren form looking like She-ra and the story beats started following after seeing the art. I outlined it very quickly.
Let Me Ride: I got the idea to first do a motorcycle AU from all the fanart with them, which eventually morphed into the idea for Let Me Ride.
On the Rocks is an unreleased AU inspired by a piece of art in a similar manner to SLAS, but I can't say more on that without spoiling it. I'll add it when I can.
#ask#anon#ficmeta#fic rambling#all fics#adding this to the fic extra 5 masterpost#i linked the fics because i mention the art in notes for them somewhere#usually near the beginning#i didnt link ihtwcyn because again i hardly count that and thus never mentioned them
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