No Time

Rating: General Pairing: Rio Ortiz x Clara Laurent (OC) Summary: Clara is feeling anxious about choosing Rhodolite's next king. Rio comes to her rescue. Notes: Original Character, Fluff, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, not beta read WC: 1,110 Also on ao3!

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"Clara!" Rio called out, turning his head left and right, his heels clicking on the cobblestone path as he ran, out of breath and half-panicked.

"Where could she have gone…?"

He tried one more time to call her name, the heady smell of roses around him not helping to keep his head clear. He needed to find her. *Needed* to find her. He dreaded what could happen if Sariel found her first, or worse, one of the visiting princes. Especially Silvio. He'd scratch the bastard's eyes out for witnessing his Clara being as vulnerable and afraid as she had been lately.

Beauty's Time was on her last petal and Clara had no idea who to pick as the next Rhodolitian King. She'd tried her best, Rio had been there every step of the way for her so he knew how hard she had tried. Yet despite learning all she could about the princes, about politics and etiquette befitting a noble lady, it still wasn't enough. She was still undecided. It was why Rio was so desperate to find her. He wanted to make sure she wasn't worrying herself sick.

"Clara!!" He tried one more, his voice lost amongst the rose garden, carried away on the wind.

He was about to turn around, gather the princes he (mostly) trusted to help look for her, when he looked at the unassuming gazebo, surrounded by rose vines not unlike a fairy tale tower, where a sleeping princess would be laying under a spell, waiting for her prince to come wake her.

He then spotted the hem of an orange skirt on the gazebo floor, little touches of gold-like thread glimmering in the low sunlight. As he ventured closer, he saw delicate brown hands desperately clutching the skirt, the knuckles turned pale with the strength of the grip. He then saw cascading brown hair, flowing over a huddled figure in the corner, the face hidden beneath her white linen sleeves.

"Clara!" Rio was by her side less than a heartbeat, frantically trying to rearrange her hair, finding little pins periodically in her river-like hair. "What happened? Your hair…"

"Leave it be, Rio." She said quietly. "It's fine."

"It absolutely isn't!" Rio continued finger-combing her hair, trying to find as many pins as he could. "Did one of the princes do this? That trickster Clavis with one of his traps? One of those womanizers? That bastard Silv-"

"No one did this." Clara sighed. "I did this… on my own."

"Why? You always liked having your hair up."

"Just… felt like trying something different, is all."

"That's not true." Satisfied he was able to find as many pins as he could, he sectioned her hair into three long strands, weaving them between each other, making a simple braid. "You only let your hair down when you're stressed."

"I'm not stressed."

Rio stopped making his braid halfway, making a point to sit in front of her, putting his hands on her knees.

"Look at me then, Clara."

She shook her head, burying her face further.

"Please, look at me, Clara." Rio softened his tone with a smile. "Talk to me. Talk to your Rio?"

Her fingers tightened in her skirt again, but she eventually let out a soft, shaky breath.

"There's no time left, Rio. I don't know who to choose as the next king and… I'm scared I'm going bring Rhodolite to ruin."

"You're still not looking at me."

"What does it matter if I'm looking at you or not?"

"I can't see your pretty face if you're hiding it."

"Not in the mood, Rio."

"C'mon, Clara." he pulled the white gloves off his hands, putting one on her shoulder, feeling her warmth through her clothes. "I want to see your face."

She shook her head again.

"Are your eyes puffy and red? Is that why you don't want to look at me?"

"…Yes."

Instead of answering her, Rio slid his hand between her arm and leg, finding a hot and damp cheek beneath his fingers, making him frown. He then pulled his hand back and wrapped his arms around her, her startled gasp in his ear.

"You won't mess this up. I promise you won't."

She shuddered beneath him.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'm your future husband, remember?" Her choked laugh tickled his heart, "it's my job to believe in you and support you even if no one else would."

"Even if I destroy Rhodolite?"

"You won't. Rhodolite has some decent princes looking after her, after all." He rubbed her shoulder with a smile.

"Prince Leon and his faction love the people of Rhodolite and will do everything in their power to protect them. And Prince Chevalier is scary, it's true, but him and his faction refuse to see us bullied by the other nations."

Clara finally lifted her head, looking at Rio for the first time since he found her. He desperately wanted to kiss away her tears, to whisk her away from all of the heartache this was causing her. He settled instead for wiping her cheeks with his thumbs.

"And even if you do manage to destroy Rhodolite, which you won't, know that I'm always going to be on your side. You tried your best and that's all that matters in my eyes."

Her eyes, the rose pink of her home's namesake, were clearing finally, one sniffle escaping her. Rio sighed in relief.

"Beside, a country of just you and me doesn't sound so bad."

That time, Clara really did laugh.

"You would say that."

"You wish is always my command, dearest queen."

She playfully slapped his arm.

"You're being silly again, Rio."

"It's true!" He put a hand to his chest, bowing his head reverently. "Only one person rules over me, and she's right here in front of me."

Clara giggled, holding out her hand.

"I'm no queen, or really any kind of royalty or nobility. But, I'll be just as happy to have you at my side, Rio." Her cheeks warmed. "With my regular self, as we've always had."

Rio took her hand, wanting to kiss it so badly, he quivered. Still, he pressed her knuckles to his forehead, so she wouldn't fully see his face, flushed with a sad smile.

"I would be honored to stay by your side, as your regular self, or any other self you become, for as long as you'll have me." He squeezed her hand. "Hopefully forever."

"Yeah… hopefully forever."

He squeezed her hand again and helped her stand up, dusting off her skirt first then his own clothes, before walking at her side back towards the palace, still holding her hand.

The Kashmiris detained more than 700km away from home

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From the earliest Fall feasts to the first Thanksgiving football game to the Macy's Day parade, here's the full background on how the U.S. holiday evolved to the tradition it is today.

There’s no holiday that’s more quintessentially American than Thanksgiving. Learn how it has evolved from its religious roots as Spanish and English days of feasting and prayer to become the football-watching, parade-marching, gut-stuffing event it is today.

1541: Spanish Explorers Hold a Feast

English settlers weren’t the first to celebrate a thanksgiving feast on American soil. According to the Texas Society Daughters of the American Colonists, the very first thanksgiving was observed by Spanish explorer Francisco Vasquez de Coronado. Accompanied by 1,500 men in full armor, Coronado left Mexico City in 1540 and marched north in search of gold. As the company camped in Palo Duro Canyon in 1541, Padre Fray Juan de Padilla called for a feast of prayer and thanksgiving, beating out the Plymouth Thanksgiving by 79 years.

1598: A Second Early Feast Among Spanish 

A second Texas town claims to have been the real site of the first Thanksgiving in America. In 1598, a wealthy Spanish dignitary named Juan de Oñate was granted lands among the Pueblo Indians in the American Southwest. He decided to blaze a new path directly across the Chihuahua Desert to reach the Rio Grande. Oñate’s party of 500 soldiers, women and children barely survived the harrowing journey, nearly dying of thirst and exhaustion when they reached the river. (Two horses reportedly drank so much water that their stomachs burst.)

After 10 days of rest and recuperation near modern-day San Elizario, Texas, Oñate ordered a feast of thanksgiving, which one of his men described in his journal: "We built a great bonfire and roasted the meat and fish, and then all sat down to a repast the like of which we had never enjoyed before…We were happy that our trials were over; as happy as were the passengers in the Ark when they saw the dove returning with the olive branch in his beak, bringing tidings that the deluge had subsided."

August 9, 1607: Colonists, Native Americans Feast in Maine

There are also competing claims as to what was the first feast of thanksgiving actually shared with Native Americans. In 1607, English colonists at Fort St. George assembled for a harvest feast and prayer meeting with the Abenaki Indians of Maine.

But some historians claim that the Spanish founders of St. Augustine, Florida shared a festive meal with the native Timucuan people when their ships came ashore way back in 1565.

READ MORE: Did Florida Host the First Thanksgiving?

First Thanksgiving Meal (TV-G; 2:38)

November 1621: The Plymouth Feast

According to American tradition, this is when Thanksgiving really began. Archival evidence is slim, but according to a letter from Plymouth colonist Edward Winslow dated December 11, 1621, the colonists wanted to celebrate their first good crop of corn and barley grown with generous assistance from the native Wampanoag Indians.

So the English colonists sent out four men to kill “as much fowl” as they could in one day, and invited King Massasoit and 90 of his men “so we might after a more special manner rejoice together.” The king brought five deer to the three-day party, which 19th-century New Englanders would later promote as the origin of modern Thanksgiving.

READ MORE: Who Was at the First Thanksgiving?

November 23, 1775: Boston Patriots Call for Thanksgiving

In the run-up to the Revolutionary War, a group of Boston patriots published a pointedly anti-British proclamation for a “Day of public Thanksgiving” throughout the Massachusetts Colony to be held November 23, 1775:

“That such a Band of Union, founded upon the best Principles, unites the American Colonies; That our Rights and Priviledges . . . are so far preserved to us, notwithstanding all the Attempts of our barbarous Enemies to deprive us of them. And to offer up humble and fervent Prayers to Almighty GOD, for the whole British Empire; especially for the UNITED AMERICAN COLONIES."

READ MORE: Who Were the Sons of Liberty?

December 18, 1777: 13 Colonies Celebrate a Thanksgiving

To celebrate the victory of American Continental forces over the British in the Battle of Saratoga, commander-in-chief George Washington called for Thursday, December 18 to be set aside for “Solemn Thanksgiving and Praise.” It was the first time that all 13 colonies celebrated a day of thanksgiving in unison.

How the Battle of Saratoga Turned the Tide (TV-14; 2:22)

READ MORE: The Battle of Saratoga

November 26, 1789: George Washington Calls for Day of Thanksgiving

George Washington, now serving as the first President of the United States, took Congress’s recommendation to call for a national day of thanksgiving and prayer in gratitude for the end of the Revolutionary War. Washington observed the holiday by attending church and then donating money and food to prisoners and debtors in New York City jails.

November 1846: Sarah Josepha Hale Lobbies for National Holiday

Sarah Josepha Hale, who started championing a national Thanksgiving holiday in 1827 as the editor of Gody’s Lady’s Book, began her 17-year letter-writing campaign in 1846 to convince American presidents that it was time to make Thanksgiving official.

READ MORE: How the 'Mother of Thanksgiving' Lobbied for a National Holiday

Sarah Josepha Hale.

September 28, 1863: 'Mother of Thanksgiving' Appeals to Lincoln

Hale, now 74 years old, penned an impassioned plea to President Abraham Lincoln to set aside a specific day for annual Thanksgiving celebrations nationwide. "It now needs National recognition and authoritive fixation, only, to become permanently, an American custom and institution." Hale wrote a similar letter to Secretary of State William Seward, who may have been the one to convince Lincoln it was a good idea.

October 3, 1863: Lincoln Proclaims Thanksgiving Holiday

To a country torn apart by the Civil War, President Lincoln proclaimed the last Thursday of November to be Thanksgiving Day, according to Hale’s longstanding wish.

“I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States… to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens,” read the proclamation, written by Seward, “and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquillity and Union.”

November 30, 1876: First Thanksgiving Football Game

The very first Thanksgiving football game was played between Princeton and Yale in 1876. American football was in its infancy, but the sport and the Thanksgiving tradition quickly caught on. By 1893, 40,000 spectators showed up to watch the Princeton-Yale Thanksgiving game in New York’s Manhattan Field.

READ MORE: Why Do Americans Watch Football on Thanksgiving?

November 27, 1924: First Macy's Parade

Originally called the “Christmas Parade,” Macy’s department store in New York City launched its first-ever parade on Thanksgiving Day, 1924. The six-mile parade route featured live elephants and camels from the Central Park Zoo. The animals were replaced by oversized rubber balloons in 1927.

‘Andy the Alligator’ in the 1933 parade seems dwarfed in size compared to the balloons of today.

View the 13 images of this gallery on the original article

READ MORE: The First Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade

November 23, 1939 - FDR Moves the Date

In 1939, Thanksgiving was set to fall on November 30, leaving only 24 shopping days until Christmas. Fearing that the shortened Christmas season would impact the economy, President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed an executive order moving it a week earlier to November 23. Critics called it “Franksgiving” and Congress officially moved the holiday back to its current place in 1941.

WWII Thanksgiving (TV-PG; 1:01)

READ MORE: Thanksgiving History Facts and Trivia

November 19, 1963: First Turkey Pardon

While claims have been made that Abraham Lincoln or Harry Truman were the first presidents to pardon a Thanksgiving turkey, the credit belongs to John F. Kennedy, who spared the life of a 55-pound gobbler in 1963. “We’ll just let this one grow,” joked JFK. “It’s our Thanksgiving present to him.” The impromptu turkey reprieve was just days before Kennedy’s fateful trip to Dallas.

While Kennedy was the first to send a gift turkey back to the farm, it was President George W. Bush in 1989 who began the annual White House tradition of officially pardoning a Thanksgiving turkey. 

READ MORE: A Brief History of the Presidential Turkey Pardon

Get the history behind the holiday. Access hundreds of hours of commercial-free series and specials with HISTORY Vault.https://ift.tt/2OwTRdT

from Stories - HISTORY https://ift.tt/35tW54R November 22, 2019 at 12:26AM

Una vez mas en Mexico (One more time in Mexico

The temperature is somewhere between 75 and 80 degrees F. I am sitting at a table on a covered terrace facing the pool. Behind me, I can hear the waves of the Gulf of Mexico gently licking at the sand on the beach. The day began with some promise but now clouds are invading the sky and I doubt we will see much sun. Stil, I KNOW we won't see any f**king snow and that's a good thing.

We are presently in a little village near the nortwestern tip of the Yucatan Peninsula called Chelem. It is located on a long sandy spit just 11 kms from Progreso; a fairly well known sun destination.

We are ensconced in a large-ish studio apartment on the ground level of a beachfront villa. The villa features two one-bedroom apartments at the foot of the property beside the gate with the owner's residence situated at the beach end. The property is owned by a Canadian gentleman named Bob who happens to hail from Ottawa. The villa is nice looking and has promise but is in sore need of refurbishing. It happens to be up for sale and, after a little more than 36 hours in Chelem, I can say with certainty that we would not buy this, or any other property in Chelem,under almost any circumstances.

We flew out of Ottawa on Saturday February 18th. The weather was perfect. After a terrible aeroport breakfast of hard-poached eggs on a sliver of toast we arrived at our gate to see our plane at the gate a posted announcement that the flight was delayed by about 75 minutes 'at the request of Air Traffic Control'. The alarm bells begin to go off. You see, we were flying into Cancun and the Cancun aeroport is notoriously busy on Saturdays. It turns out that the volume on this particular Saturday was so great that Mexican authorities had requested (demanded??) that flights be delayed to spread out the traffic. Okay so no big deal. 

Our Westjet flight was one of those without any form of in-flight entertainment (unless, of course, you find listening to screaming children and watching frazzled parents entertaining). Instead, you have to download the Westjet app which allows you to access music, films, etc. Now I have, in fact, downloaded this app but, being dinosaurs from the Ikea age, this last thing we wanted to do was huddle over a 10-inch screen to watch a film we can barely hear. We had lots of reading material and we survived. For some inexplicable reason, the flight attendants handed us the wrong immigration forms to fill out before arrival. The ones they gave us were for Mexican nationals, were entirely in Spanish and did not include the mandatory visa portion. So we had to fill out new forms in the (barely) controlled chaos of the terminal. Then the fun really began.

Our plan was to rent a car and immediately set out for a town called Rio Lagartos, situated roughly halfway between Cancun and Chelem, which is the home of Mexico's world famous and justly popular pink flamingoes. Had everythng been on schedule we would have landed at 3:10 and been on the road heading out of Cancun by about 5:00. Unfortunately, we arrive close to 90 minutes behind schedule and, because of all of the staggered arrivals, the terminal was full of people being told to step out of line to fill out the proper visa forms. The volume of people and vehicles outside the terminal made it difficult for the shuttles to the rental agencies to easily get through. Once at the car rental (which shall remain nameless but has the initials 'Thrifty') we had to wait 15-20 minutes to get to an agent and he took 20 more minutes to process our request which, let us not forget, had been booked in advance. Sigh! We love Mexico but loving Mexico means accepting that things are often done at Mexican time. Once processed, we waited close to an hour - AN HOUR - for them to bring us our vehicle. A new standard, even for Mexico. By now the sun had set which meant we would be driving close to three hours in darkness. And it has been years since I have driven a vehicle with so few 'extras'. No power locks, power windows, cruise control, power seats, nothing. Even the trunk is opened with a key. I guess that's what rentals of $2.00/day will get you. But here things began to change. 

Most rental agencies advertise themselves on their vehicles. Thrifty is more subtle than most as the only visible sign is a 'Thrifty' frame around the licence plate. The problem is that those agency identifiers also identify the occupants as visitors or, in other words, prey. Our car, luckily, had no such identifier. I think Thrifty was too embarrassed to proclaim that this was one of their cars. Still, that lack may spare us some irritation in the coming weeks.

The first half of our drive to Rio Lagartos was on the well-maintained four-lane toll highway to Valladolid. From there we had to take a two-lane road north for more than 100 kms to Lagartos. Roughly half way up this road is a large town called Timizin. They have fire and the wheel in Timizin but it seems that the notion of 'a straight line' has quite reached there yet.. To travel from the south end to the north involves several twists and turns and, inevitably we missed a turn and wound up going the wrong way down a one-way street. And two municipal cops pulled us over. Neither spoke a word of english or french but we muddled through with my spanish and, after only a minute or two, the policemen offered to lead us out of town. It took a while and there was at least one time when Diane and I both thought that they were leading us to the jail (or worse) but eventually we reached the northen town limits on the right road (with a sign indicating Rio Lagartos). As we made our way uninterrupted through town, with one of the policemen flashing his red and blue lights and no one daring to cut in or pass, Diane said that it felt like we were the President driving slowly through town. I guess they REALLY wanted us out of town. At the end we thanked our new friends who replied that they were happy to be of service and we went our separate ways.

We finally arrived at Rio Lagartos at around 9:30 local time (10:30 our time) having eaten nothing but a few chips since noon. Our fear was that the hotel would be closed for the night. That fear was unfounded. As we pulled up a young woman received us, checked us in while I apologized for our late arrival, showed us to our room, bade us good night, and then proceeded to lock up the hotel. The kitchen at the local restaurant was closed but they served us a very good guacamole with two satisfying adult beverages and we called it a day.

There are two claims to fame for this area of Mexico. One is the habitat for the pink flamingoes and the other is the salt lagoons; also pink. To see the pink flamingoes involves a three-hour boat ride. We were tired and we had forgotten to set our clocks back one hour so, thinking it was already a little late, we decided to pass on the boat tour. We did, however take a short detour to see the pink salt lagoons. The water was bright pink. So CHECK on the salt lagoons.

From there we had to retrace our route to Timizin where we failed to encounter our new police friends (nor did we go the wrong way down one-way streets for that matter). We went west a ways then turned north to a little place called Dzilam el Bravo where begins a coastal road that takes us right to Progreso. I looked at a map and was assured that Dzilam el Bravo is not, in fact, at the end of the world but I swear you can see it from there. Anyway, as we drove west along the coast there is a lot of marsh and, eventually, a large lagoon. We stumbled onto a few more salt lagoons and then, suddenly, there were around 40 or so pink flamingoes. From the Department of useless trivia; flamingoes are born grey but they feed in briny water (which tends to be pinkish) and the creatures on which they feed contain a particular mix of chemicals that causes them, and eventually the plummage of the flamingoes, to become pink. So we saw the flamingoes feeding. CHECK!

All along the road to Progreso there are visible signs of construction as more and more wealthy people, many of them expat Canadians and Americans, build villas or condos. Paradise lost? When we arrived in Progreso one of the first things I did was start down the wrong way on a one-way. Luckily I noticed immediately and corrected my error. I suspect the locals knew then that we were turistas even without the Thrifty logos.

Progreso is a fishing village that is being converted into a tourist centre, in part due to the proximity of Merida some 40 kms away inland. The sea here is shallow so they have built a giant pier that extends some 6.5 kms into the gulf. The main reason for this was to draw cruise ships which now make Progreso a regular stop. There are apparently a number of decent restaurants in Progreso which we will try to sample over the next couple of days. When we arrived Sunday there was at least one cruise ship in town (so to speak) and thousands of people were strolling the beachfront malecon. At first glance the beaches were not as impressive as the ones on the Riviera Maya south of Cancun or even as attractive as those near Puerto Vallarta. Traffic was incredibly slow. Between Progreso and Chelem is village called Yucalpeten. It features a large sheltered marina and' I believe, a small shipyard. Apart from the marina (if you like marinas) the town does not appear to have any redeeming qualities except, maybe, low prices. I suspect Progreso and Chelem have become too pricey for the locals and many of them now live in Yucalpeten.

Our instructions were a little vague and, being without a working phone for the moment, it took a little while to navigate our way to our lodgings. The owner has two small black dogs. One, mostly scotch terrier, is aloof and barks a lot. The other looks like a pug-bulldog mix and is very sociable. His name is Yogi. Diane is allergic to dogs which seems to serve as a magnet for Yogi, who whined at our door for Diane this morning. I know this because he all but ignored me as I stepped outside.

Yesterday was a lazy day of checking out the beach in front of the villa (it is badly eroded and probably not a lot of fun to swim in) basking by the pool and catching up on our reading and sleep, in no particular order. Today we will brave the masses (there is another ship in town) and explore Progreso a bit. Tomorrow will probably be more of the same. Thursday we head to Merida to celebrate Carnaval and explore some more. Guy