chocolate covered donnie! another drawing inspired by the plushies by @/spaceplush :-D

✧ Astrological Oracle Cards

Author/Artist: Lunaea Weatherstone & Antonella Castelli

Editor: Lo Scarabeo

ISBN: 978-88865271481 ✧ 978-0-88079-965-2

Link: https://shop.loscarabeo.com/index.php?id_product=553&controller=product&id_lang=1

Disclaimer: No matter how much I played with the settings of my camera it just refused to render the colours as muted as they actually are. While they look vibrant on the following pictures, please bear in mind they look much more worn out in reality, keeping with the classical tones associated with the Art Nouveau movement.

Today, let's take a look at an oracle deck. I have selected one of the first ones I acquired, which blends the themes of Astrology and Art Nouveau. It is published by Lo Scarabeo which is quite a big deck editor, offering options for all tastes and needs. In this review, let's focus on the Astrological Oracle Cards.

✧ The Box

The box is a gorgeous, deep, emerald green with accents of silver on the moon, stars and the character's jewellery, as well as on some text. The character represented on the box front is the one you will find on the Luna card.

On the back of the box, you can see a sample of cards (Aries, Cancer, Scorpio and Saturnus). You can also read a short intro: “The wisdom of the stars in everyday living in 22 Art Nouveau cards. Feelings and intuition indicate the path towards the spirituality of the stars”. This is written in 6 different languages: English, French, Italian, German, Spanish and Russian, the languages usually used in every Lo Scarabeo deck. The full telescope box comes with a fabric band to help pick up the cards and booklet. The inside of the box is simply plain green.

It looks and feels gorgeous!

✧ The Cards

To be honest, after seeing such a gorgeous box, I was expecting the cards to bear a similar depth of colour. In actuality, the illustrations remain true to more traditional Art Nouveau palettes, which makes use of warmer but more muted colours.

There are 22 cards, 10 planets and 12 signs, and they are slightly bigger than usual RWS cards, but they remain comfortable to handle. The finish is nice and glossy, with a few small, matte, silver elements ( backgrounds, stars, jewels, hair, etc). The edges are also silver.

Now let's touch on the illustrations.

The planets are illustrated by deities from the Roman pantheon. Some of them will have additional symbols, relevant to their interpretation. For example, Luna has moths in the background, Venus has shells, Neptune has a bunch of sea horses and Pluto has skulls. Jupiter is accompanied by his eagle while Uranus holds a globe. The others are decorated with flowers only.

The two top corners of each Planet card are decorated with flowers, and these framing elements are present on each of those cards, only changing colour from one card to the other. In the top left corner you can find the name of the planet, a glyph in the top right corner and a name-plate at the bottom center of each card. I'm not quite sure why the name appears twice, but It may have something to do with some of the layouts of the Zodiac cards. Overall, each planet card is designed with the same layout, which does bring consistency and feels finished and tidy.

As for the meaning associated with the cards, not all are representative of their astrological properties: for example Mars doesn't convey any energy, power or action and Mercurius doesn't show anything related to intelligence, communication or swiftness. Yet these are the meanings attached to them by the booklet, which would result in a hard time intuitively reading the cards for someone who is unfamiliar with astrology.

The zodiac signs are all illustrated as white women. Now, granted, Art Nouveau focuses almost exclusively on the elegance of the female body, but I do believe that the deck would have benefited from some more variety in representation (more different skin tones, body types, ornament, flora, etc). This uniformity may deter some readers.

Now, where the planet cards showed a consistency in the layout, this is completely thrown out the window in the zodiac cards:

7 cards bear the name of the sign in the top left corner and the glyph in the top right corner (Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, Aquarius and Pisces).

The other 5 cards also show the title and glyph of each sign, but they are complemented by an additional illustration of the said sign:

3 cards show the illustration within a circle, located at the bottom center of the cards (Aries, Cancer, Capricorn).

1 card shows such a circle but it is located to the bottom left (which is ironic, because it's the Libra card, the one that SHOULD display balance).

1 card shows the illustration in a rectangle, located at the bottom center (Scorpio).

1 card has this rectangle on the bottom left (Taurus) and one on the bottom right (Leo).

When sorted by element or mode, the cards do not show more coordination either. (the Earth signs almost had something going with 2/3 cards having a green undertone).

As an artist and fan of Art Nouveau, this sort of random composition stands out like a sore thumb to me. I would have understood if each card was different, if the extra illustrations for the signs were (or were not) present on every card, but no such luck.

As for the illustrations themselves, some of them are really on point (the water signs clearly display more emotions than other signs and Gemini, Sagittarius, Virgo and Capricorn are quite representative of their sign. Other signs look more generic and less inspired, such as Aries, Taurus, Leo, Scorpio and Aquarius.

The back of the cards is decorated with a symmetric deign made of pomegranates and stars, with the same muted colours as the card fronts. Why pomegranates? They are the symbol of Persephone/Proserpina, who is not referred to in any of the cards. There are so many symbols that could have been more relevant to the theme, such as a zodiac wheel, or the 4 elements, or constellations, etc.

✧ The Little White Book

At first glance, the booklet is an impressive 192 pages long. However, you have to account for the fact that it contains 6 different parts, one per language. The actual content is about 50 pages per language. It starts off with the interpretations of the signs, the planets and the houses (while there are no cards representing the 12 astrological houses, they will come up in the recommended spreads).

It proceeds to present two different spread. In the first spread, you draw two planet cards (therefore all planet combinations are covered in the booklet). In the second, you create an astrological wheel, pulling the sign that corresponds to the 1st house at random and then arranging the other signs accordingly. You then select the house you want to focus on and draw a planet card to place there. All the planet-sign combinations are also available in the booklet. Also, the houses are explained again in this part of the book, with a shorter blurb this time (more like a reminder). I actually really like this one spread and will probably build up on it. All in all, the booklet covers a lot of information.

The last page shows the glyphs of the planets and signs.

The cover is adorned with Luna while the back is illustrated with Sol, both enhanced by the gorgeous silver effects you find on the box.

✧ Conclusion

▐ Likes

Astrology and Art Nouveau.That's a killer combo!

Lovely illustrations and finish.

The suggested spreads are interesting and a bit out of the ordinary.

The booklet is very interesting and provides a lot of interpretations based on combinations of 2 planets and of a sign and a planet.

▐ Dislikes

The box and the cards don't feel like they are part of a set.

Some card illustrations seem uninspired.

No consistency in the cards design.

The depth of symbolism found is Astrology is left unutilised in the illustrations.

Some cards do not convey their actual meaning easily (or at all)

To be perfectly candid, I like this deck. Despite all it's flaws, I still refer to these cards as signifiers in my readings because Art Nouveau speaks to me on a deeper level.

However as someone who's education was about the visual arts, their history and their critique, I have to admit it feels superficial and rushed. The illustrations are shallow interpretations of the signs and planets, carefully avoiding the wealth of symbols and correspondences associated with each of them. This can be a problem for readers who have no background in Astrology and can make it hard to read as there is no deeper meaning to rely on.

I also picked up some favouritism when it comes to the signs cards. Some clearly had more effort put into them, while others only get a generic illustration.

This prompted me to look further into the artist's work. It turns out that the Neo Art Nouveau style is her speciality and she has illustrated numerous decks. I am quite surprised as I would not consider this deck a success. I might, in the future, purchase another deck illustrated by the artist, for the sake of comparison and also to give her another chance.

Overall, while I still enjoy this deck, looking in detail into it made me realise how imperfect it is. It also allowed me to realise how the cards have a very low energy feel to them. So while it is a pretty deck, it is not perfect. If you think this could bother you, I would not recommend this deck. But if you don't mind and have a good knowledge of astrology, then why not give it a shot?

✧ Rating

✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧

Thank you for reading and see you later, little MonStars!

Pretender Reads A Little Hatred, Part I, Chapter Two

Forwards and charging onward! Goes without saying spoilers ahead for the entirety of The First Law works beyond the keep reading. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Title: Where the Fight’s Hottest Point-of-View: Leo dan Brock

In battle, Leo’s father used to say, a man discovers who he truly is.

The Northmen were already turning to run as his horse crashed into them with a thrilling jolt.

He smashed one across the back of the helmet with the full force of the charge and ripped his head half off.

He snarled as he swung to the other side. A glimpse of a gawping face before his axe split it open, blood spraying in black streaks.

.. And what Leo is is a Northman in Union clothes. If we’re less generous with him, he’s Leeroy Jenkins. He’s, with respect to FlynnLevy on TheFirstLaw’s reddit, Leoroy Jenkins!!

A lance shattered, a shard flying into Leo’s helmet with an echoing clang as he wrenched away. The world was a flickering slit of twisted faces, glinting steel, heaving bodies, half seen through the slot in his visor. Screams of men and mounts and metal mashed into one thought-crushing din.

With a title like Where the Fight’s Hottest, we were going to get a fight. This chapter’s first half’s all fight and blood, and, man, there’s that crispness and visceral impact of Abercrombie’s battle prose. I make no bones in saying that he’s hands-down one of the genre’s bests, as far as I’ve read. Abercrombie just knows how to make a blow crunch and chop off a limb and make you feel it, be part of the moment. 

And this is a great example of it. Just read how claustrophobic this feels, how much only Leo can register hearing because his helmet’s visor won’t let him register any sight beyond the minute glints and flickers of battle. It’s mostly hearing, because Leo himself can’t see past his slit and Abercrombie appreciates a good tightness of voice. All sound and fury in a storm of violence.

A horse swerved in front of him. Riderless, stirrups flapping. Ritter’s horse. He could tell by the yellow saddlecloth. A spear stabbed at him, jolting the shield on his arm, rocking him in his saddle. The point screeched down his armoured thigh.

Riderless, huh. My god, is Ritter another battle-idiot? At least Leo stays on his horse to slaughter the Northmen! Aside from that, let me draw more attention to the way Abercrombie breaks down his sentence structure: short sentences and multiple commas, each carrying their immediate action, because the battlefield’s not a place where long stretches of thought can occur without a man trying to bash your brains in.

He gripped the reins in his shield-hand as his mount bucked and snorted, face locked in an aching smile, flailing wildly with his axe on one side, then the other. He beat mindlessly at a shield with a black wolf painted on it, kicked at a man and sent him staggering back, then Barniva’s sword flashed as it took his arm off.

Stour Nightfall’s standard. So, does this mean Rikke and Leo are going to meet, considering Uffrith won’t predispose her to Stour and Stour won’t be sweetened by Leo’s loving ax to his men’s heads?

He saw Whitewater Jin swinging his mace, red hair tangled across gritted teeth.

1. Whitewater? So Jin’s born near the Whiteflow? Hm, I wonder if it’s a Name like the other Named Men or just a geographical name. I’m hedging on the latter, but it’s an interesting thought. 2. Red hair, huh. I’m not crazy enough to assume that’s Vitari’s Cas (why would he be up North, anyway?) but, given this is a story where the next generation will be focused on, I’m definitely looking carefully for redheads.

He pointed at Stour Nightfall’s standard with his axe, black wolf streaming in the wind. He howled, roared, throat hoarse. No one could hear him with his visor down. No one could’ve heard him if it had been up. He hardly knew what he was saying. He flailed furiously at the milling bodies instead.

Someone clutched at his leg. Curly hair. Freckles. Looked bloody terrified. Everyone did. Didn’t seem to have a weapon. Maybe surrendering. Leo smashed Freckles on the top of the head with the rim of his shield, gave his horse the spurs and trampled him into the mud.

This was no place for good intentions. No place for tedious subtleties or boring counter-arguments. None of his mother’s carping on patience and caution. Everything was beautifully simple.

In battle, a man discovers who he truly is, and Leo was the hero he’d always dreamed of being.

Well! Leo’s certainly no Jezal. He’s a far more wild and battle-hungry shit, and, in some ways, that comparison both elevates and damns Leo. He’s certainly got the glory-hounding that Jezal had, except backed with some legit battlefield competence right away, but at the same time, there’s something terribly more... hidebound about Leo in a way that Jezal wasn’t at the start. Jezal was a noble ignorant pissant because he just wholesale bought into his station and the assumptions that came with it until reality beat him down later.

Leo’s actively killing people and just loving it. Loving being a hero, loving being a leveller of men, loving the simplicity of battlefield politics, one ax swing at a time.

It makes him a more specific character, writing-wise, compared to the more vacuous nature of Jezal at the start, but my god. Leo is no thinking man here. If anything, the remark of heroes and all this battle fury in him makes me think there’s quite a bit of Gorst in Leo before my first thought that he was the next generation’s Jezal (something that I think holds sort of true, Jezal was also an unthinking dumbfuck who thought he was the best ever).

Time will tell if Leo grows past that...

He swung again but his axe felt strange. The blade had flown off, left him holding a bloody stick. He dropped it, dragged out his battle steel, buzzing fingers clumsy in his gauntlet, hilt greasy from the thickening rain. He realised the man he’d been hitting was dead. He’d fallen against the fence, so it looked as if he was standing but there was black pulp hanging out of his broken skull, so that was that.

Hah! I’ve always wondered how axes blades can stay on, despite so much abrasion and blows. I’m glad to see this, for a change. And, man, those beautiful short sections in-between commas, so many quick beats of actions that don’t linger in the moment.

Also, sheesh, Leo. Was there a thought you ever had before you swung.

The standard-bearer was a huge man with desperate eyes and blood in his beard, still holding high the flag of the black wolf. Leo spurred right at him, blocked axe with shield, caught him with a sword-cut that screeched over his cheek guard and opened a great gash across his face, carved half his nose off. He tottered back and Whitewater Jin crushed the man’s helmet with his mace, blood squirting from under the rim. Leo kicked him over, tearing the standard from his limp hand as he fell. He thrust it up, laughing, gurgling, half-choking on his own spit then laughing again, his axe’s loop still stuck around his wrist so the broken haft clattered against his helmet.

A fight’s some messy shit, guys. It ain’t pretty, and Abercrombie gets across that ugliness while writing some really entertaining, quick-paced, in-the-moment battles, another reason why his fight scenes whip.

Leo ached all over: thighs from gripping his horse, shoulders from swinging his axe, hands from gripping the reins. The very soles of his feet throbbed from the effort. His chest heaved, breath booming in his helmet, damp, and hot, and tasting of salt. Might’ve bit his tongue somewhere. He fumbled with the buckle under his chin, finally tore the damn thing free. His skull burst with the noise, turned from fury to delight. The noise of victory.

No one gets out unscathed or without being downright exhausted. When you’re down with where the fight’s hottest, you end up paying prices for being in the middle of war’s forges, hot and spent and full of fire in your throat and body all over. Though, Leo shoves the costs for the victory in the moment...

He almost fell from his horse, clambered up onto the wall. Something was soft under his gauntleted hand. A Northman’s corpse, a broken spear sticking from his back. All he felt was giddy joy.

No corpses, no glory, after all. Might as well regret the peelings from a carrot. Someone was helping him up, giving him a steadying hand. Jurand. Always there when he needed him. Leo stood tall, the joyful faces of his men all turned towards him.

Ugh. He’s worse than Jezal in some ways! Just sees all the glory, the honor, and the victory and doesn’t mind all the dead he made to get it. Admittedly, they were enemies, and their goal’s likely to kill him (Northmen, am I right), but man, Leo’s really got a toxic attitude to violence and the comparison to Gorst only grows stronger from here, given Gorst’s attitude towards loving violence, no matter the butchered meat.

And it certainly makes him a succinct counterpoint to Rikke, who, at least, felt bad for killing someone. That’s practically a unicorn in the Circle of the World. Leo? He’s all for the violence, unthinking violence. He fits comfortably into the typical fabric of the Circle of the World far more. And I don’t think Leo’s coming out of this better than Rikke, personal liking-wise, despite Rikke having tropes I was never predisposed to.

“The Young Lion!” roared Glaward, climbing up beside him and clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder, making him wobble. Jurand stretched out his arms to catch him, but he didn’t fall. “Leo dan Brock!” Soon they were all shouting his name, singing it like a prayer, chanting it like a magic word, stabbing their glittering weapons at the spitting sky.

“Leo! Leo! Leo!”

In battle, a man discovers who he truly is.

He felt drunk. He felt on fire. He felt like a king. He felt like a god. This was what he was made for!

1. Welp. There’s that old familiar Jezal arrogance. Leo and Jezal definitely share some character DNA by both being vainglorious nobles wanting to prove themselves for want of glory and honor. 2. Leo dan Brock, huh? That just means we might get Finree and Hal down the road!! Hell yeah, Finree was one of the best parts of The Heroes! I’ll definitely take more of her!

In the lady governor’s tent, they were fighting a different kind of war. A war of patient study and careful calculation, of weighed odds and furrowed brows, of lines of supply and an awful lot of maps. A kind of war Leo frankly hadn’t the patience for.

A problem with every battle: you got to attend to the stuff in-between the battles, the sheer contrast between the simplicity of a battlefield, the quick beats of action sentences, and the longer sentence structures Abercrombie uses here, full of adjectives and attention to the minutiae, and making it clear Leo’s no longer part of a battle and has enough space of mind to deride all the complications of life past a fight.

The glow of victory had been dampened by the stiffening rain on the long trudge up from the valley, doused further by the niggling pain from a dozen cuts and bruises, and was almost entirely smothered by the cool stare his mother gave him as Leo pushed through the flap with Jurand and Whitewater Jin at his back.

She was in the midst of talking to a knight herald. Ridiculously tall, he had to stoop respectfully to attend to her.

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, FINREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

I really love the implication that Finree commands enough respect that others have to meet her eye-level instead of her having to crane up at others. She’s done well for herself in the years to come, I’m so proud!

“We don’t need the king’s bloody help!” snapped Leo as soon as the flap dropped. “We can beat Black Calder’s dogs!” His voice sounded oddly weak in the tent, deadened by wet cloth. It didn’t carry anywhere near so nicely as it had on the battlefield.

“Huh.” His mother planted her fists on the table and frowned down at her maps. By the dead, sometimes he thought she loved those maps more than him. “If we are to fight the king’s battles, we should expect the king’s help.”

“You should’ve seen them run!” Damn it, but Leo had been so sure of himself a few moments ago. He could charge a line of Carls and never falter, but a woman with a long neck and greying hair leached all the courage out of him. “They broke before we even got to them! We took a few dozen prisoners …” He glanced towards Jurand, but he was giving Leo that doubtful look now, the one he used when he didn’t approve, the one he’d given him before the charge. “And the farm’s back in our hands … and …”

His mother let him stammer into silence before she glanced at his friends. “My thanks, Jurand. I’m sure you did your best to talk him out of it. And you, Whitewater. My son couldn’t ask for better friends or I for braver warriors.”

Snrrrk. With good reason, Leo. On a serious note, there’s definitely an efficiency of characterization here and you can tell the dynamic between Finree and Leo here, just from this: the sensible mother and the charging-bull heir. A part of me wants to pity Leo because if Black Dow couldn’t budge Finree after she was kidnapped, what chance do his brash and immature words have?

But, at the same time, wait, that fight was just for a farm? I’m getting ASoIaF flashbacks here, and none that suggest anything good of Leo’s sense of priorities. Not that I expected better of his decision-making, but yeesh.

Jin slapped a heavy hand down on Leo’s shoulder. “It was Leo who led the—”

“You can go.”

Jin scratched sheepishly at his beard, showing a lot less warrior’s mettle than he had down in the valley. Jurand gave Leo the slightest apologetic wince. “Of course, Lady Finree.” And they slunk from the tent, leaving Leo to fiddle weakly with the fringe of his captured standard.

Look on the bright side, Leo, at least you’re not the only one who can be cowed by your mother.

His mother let the withering silence stretch a moment longer before she passed judgement. "You bloody fool."

(Winces) I saw that coming too, and Abercrombie’s got a gift for the sharp dialogue. The succinct one-liner.

“Great leaders go where the fight’s hottest!” But he knew he sounded like the heroes in the badly written storybooks he used to love.

Ah, that good ol’ shading of lesser fantasies. And, yes, Leo, you are kind of a dumb, brash hero from a lesser fantasy conceptually, but that’s the thing: Abercrombie’s not gonna let you be comfortable being just that. Finree’s there to make sure of that, narrative-wise, if nothing else. That’s part of why I read Abercrombie: watching him deconstruct, contort, and twist these character archetypes and poking them with sharp steel from all angles.

“You know who else you find where the fight’s hottest?” asked his mother. “Dead men. We both know you’re not a fool, Leo. For whose benefit are you pretending to be one?” She shook her head wearily. “I should never have let your father send you to live with the Dogman. All you learned in Uffrith was rashness, bad songs and a childish admiration for murderers. I should have sent you to Adua instead. I doubt your singing would be any better but at least you might have learned some subtlety.”

Damn, Finree, no pulling punches, I see! All that frankly needs to be said, but I get why Leo feels his courage turn to jelly before the dominant personality Finree is to him.

Also, this does explain why Leo’s the way he is because there is no way Finree wouldn’t have cut down Leo’s growing ego to manageable size, had he still been with her. Though, whoa. Leo was sent to the Dogman?

That. That means Leo and Rikke probably already know each other. Um. Damn, I can’t see them getting along, not with the way Leo is now, but, at the same time, Finree’s already pressed against the walls, military-wise, and Uffrith’s scorched to ash. They might not have a choice, but to work together...

“Won what? A worthless farm in a worthless valley? That was little more than a scouting party, and now the enemy will guess our strength.” She gave a bitter snort as she turned back to her maps. “Or the lack of it.”

“I captured a standard.” It seemed a pitiful thing now he really looked at it, though, clumsily stitched, the pole closer to a branch than a flagstaff. How could he have thought Stour Nightfall himself might ride beneath it? 

Yup, ASoIaF flashbacks. Except, where GRRM doesn’t really sell out the better parts of the actors there, Abercrombie here is just pitiless with how much Leo gets dragged for rashness and being drunk on songs and war.

“Listen to what you’re told. Learn from those who know better. Be brave, by all means, but don’t be rash. Above all, don’t get yourself bloody killed! You’ve always known exactly how to please me, Leo, but you choose to please yourself.”

Careful, Finree, you might drag your son away from him climbing Mt. Ego. We don’t want him exercising sensible judgment, god forbid. Admittedly, Finree sounds pretty “my way or the highway,” but, at the same time, she’s hardly wrong and knows her son well enough to cut him down to size.

"You can’t understand! You’re not …” He waved an impatient hand, failing, as always, to quite find the right words. “A man,” he finished lamely.

She raised one brow. “Had I been confused on that point, it was put beyond doubt when I pushed you out of my womb. Have you any notion how much you weighed as a baby? Spend two days shitting an anvil and we’ll talk again.”

SNAP. My god, Finree’s just a treasure trove of cutting quips here. Though, good to know, at least, Leo knew that dismissive remark was lame as shit. Wish he stopped short of saying it though. Masculine egos getting chopped down makes my day, especially since Leo’s basically mini-Gorst now.

“Like your friend Ritter looked up to you?”

Leo was caught out by the memory of that riderless horse clattering past. He realised he hadn’t seen Ritter’s face among his friends when they celebrated. Realised he hadn’t even thought about that until now.

“He knew the risks,” he croaked, suddenly choked with worry. “He chose to fight. He was proud to fight!”

“He was. Because you have that fire in you that inspires men to follow. Your father had it, too. But with that gift comes responsibility. Men put their lives in your hands.”

Had? Is Hal retired or something? He shouldn’t be that old. Maybe he got a war disability and can’t perform his military duties anymore? Where is he?

And, the thing is, Leo, you’re in charge of them. You can’t keep Leoroy Jenkins-ing all over the place and pretend it’s going to work out because...

His mother’s face had softened. That made him more worried than ever. “He’s with the dead, Leo.” There was a long, strange silence, and outside the wind blew up and made the canvas of the tent flap and whisper. “I’m sorry.” 

... There’s a price to charging into a fight. Always.

No corpses, no glory. He sank onto a folding field chair, captured standard clattering to the ground.

Another facet of what I love about Abercrombie’s writing? These re-contextualized echoes, always there to pound the POV in the head about how their earlier selves were so naive and foolish until reality snapped its jaws against them. It’s a cleverness of structure I love.

“He has a wife …” Leo remembered the wedding. What the hell was her name? Bit of a weak chin. The groom had looked prettier. The happy couple had danced, badly, and Whitewater Jin had bellowed in Northern that he hoped for her sake Ritter fucked better than he danced. Leo had laughed so hard he was nearly sick. He didn’t feel like laughing now. Being sick, yes. “By the dead … he has a child.”

"I will write to them.”

“What good will a letter do?’ He felt the stinging of tears at the back of his nose. ‘I’ll give them my house! In Ostenhorm!”

“Are you sure?”

“Why do I need a house? I spend all my time in the saddle.”

Okay, I’ll stop ragging on Leo and give him this: he’s got a far bigger heart than Jezal did at the beginning. He’s a bit of a shit to his friends unintentionally, but once he sees he’s fucked-up horrendously with his friend, he’ll give generously for it. Too little, too late, but at the same time, that’s far more than Jezal ever did back at his start. It makes for a nice dichotomy of Leo being a savage, battle-hungry warrior and too much heart. Leo’s that very thoughtless friend who overcompensates when he fucks up and can’t argue out of it.

"You have it in you to be a great man, but you cannot let yourself be swept off by whatever emotion blows your way. Battles may sometimes be won by the brave, but wars are always won by the clever. Do you understand?”

Intense Bayaz vibes here.

“Good. Give orders to leave the farm and pull back towards the west before Stour Nightfall arrives in force.”

“But if we fall back … Ritter died for nothing. If we fall back, how will that look?”

She stood. “Like womanly weakness and indecision, I hope. Then perhaps the rash heads on the Northmen’s side will prevail and pursue us with manly smiles on their manly faces, and when the king’s soldiers finally arrive, we’ll cut them to pieces on ground of our choosing.”

Ha ha, clever, clever, playing onto their prejudices in order to cut them down. However, I don’t think Black Calder, if I’m right on my theory with him as Stour’s father, will play that easily to that game, given he knows a thing or two about playing weak and docile for advantage...

Also, this reminds me of this saying from Stolicus:

“The ground must be a general’s best friend, or it becomes his worst enemy.”

So, just good military sense, or has Finree read Stolicus? I don’t remember her having read any military geniuses by name in The Heroes, but since she’s taking charge, I imagine she had to brush up, if being Kroy’s daughter didn’t already get her used to a military chain of command and tactics.

She had her soft voice, now. “It was rash, it was reckless, but it was brave, and … for better or worse, men do look up to a certain kind of man. I won’t deny we all need something to cheer for. You gave Stour Nightfall a bloody nose, and great warriors are quick to anger, and angry men make mistakes.” She pressed something into his limp hand. The standard with Nightfall’s wolf on it. “Your father would have been proud of your courage, Leo. Now make me proud of your judgement.” 

... Wow, I am slow. Hal’s dead, isn’t he. Why else would she say this if Hal could just tell Leo himself somewhere else? Damn. That’s kind of a blow, considering Hal was a pretty decent guy, and this world sorely needs more decent people. How did he die? I suppose illness or was he called out for the Union-Styria War? 

Though, this does explain a lot, like why people defer to Finreee on face value, considering Leo’s probably... wait a second. (consults the timeline) He... should be, at the very least, over eighteen, if not twenty. Why isn’t he already Lord Governor? 

It’s interesting that Finree uses a similar hot/cold method of parenting as she did with being a wife to Hal. Withhold a certain amount of affection so, when she actually does let it out overtly, it has more power over the beloved one. Also, Finree, that might be true, but the men who worship Leo probably aren’t worth that much beyond a sword hand. I guess, when you’re short of men, you want anyone who can lift a sword though. (sighs)

He trudged to the tent flap, shoulders drooping under armour that felt three times heavier than when he arrived. Ritter was gone, and never coming back, and had left his weak-chinned wife weeping at the fireside. Killed by his own loyalty, and Leo’s vanity, and Leo’s carelessness, and Leo’s arrogance.

“By the dead.” He tried to rub the tears away with the back of his hand but couldn’t do it with his gauntlets on. He used the hem of the captured standard instead.

In battle, a man discovers who he truly is.

And you’ve discovered you’re a softer heart than you realize, Leo. That’s not really a bad thing. Just means the world hasn’t beaten you down enough yet. At least you know that now...

“Nothing I didn’t deserve.” But Leo managed to smile a little, too. Just for the sake of morale. No one could deny they all needed something to cheer for.

It grew louder as he raised that rag of a standard, and Antaup swaggered forwards, throwing up his arms for more noise. One of the men, no doubt drunk already, dragged down his trousers and showed his bare arse to the North, to widespread approval. Then he fell over, to widespread laughter. Glaward and Barniva caught Leo and bundled him high into the air on their shoulders while Jurand planted his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes.

The rain had slackened off and the sun shone on polished armour, and sharpened blades, and smiling faces.

It was hard not to feel much better. 

... Oh, you little shit. Ritter just disappeared from your mind, didn’t he, didn’t he. Were the aesthetics of idealized military really enough to prevent Ritter from entering deeper into your thick skull? Well, I suppose Leo really does share character DNA with Jezal. Two steps forward, one step back! 

Like, Leo is definitely an incisive riff on the Original Trilogy because he’s both a lot better and worse than Jezal back then: way more open heart and earnest, less cowardice, classist contempt, and petty humiliating of others than Jezal... also more toxic masculinity and unthinking recklessness that’d make a bull say “whoa, my fellow bull, slow down.”

My god, I’d bang Leo’s head against a wall, if I knew it’d do more than break the wall.

As a conclusion, the first half of this chapter is a treat for the battle-lovers, I’ve went over how Abercrombie’s prose really sinks into you and lets you feel the weight and blow of every swing and crunch, but it’s the second half that shines all the more for me: the dampening cold after the fight’s heat, the messiness after the battle and it makes for a symmetrical structure, compared to Rikke’s first, which was good, but if we’re talking purely chapter craft, I might be more included to say this one’s better.

Though, I will say, I’m not warming to Leo the same way I did with Rikke, even despite how many tropes in her I was ready to be opposed to. Leo’s not a vain cock in the way of Jezal, character-wise. He’s close, but he’s a specific kind of meathead that I just shake my head at. He’s definitely a stronger-written character and he’s not that shitty a guy by comparison, but ugh.

Leoroy Jenkins.

PART I

Chapter One: Blessings and Curses Chapter Two: Where the Fight’s Hottest Chapter Three: Guilt Is a Luxury Chapter Four: Keeping Score Chapter Five:  A Little Public Hanging Chapter Six: The Breakers Chapter Seven: The Answer to Your Tears Chapter Eight: Young Heroes Chapter Nine: The Moment

Becoming Human - Chapter 22

Previous Chapters:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21

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The remaining two days of the working week passed by quickly. None of us uttered a word to Doctor Jung over what happened that night, and Gunhee has gone into Leo’s files to delete the recording so the older doctor would be none the wiser. Speaking to Younha had allowed me to have another ally in the building, her support and wisdom making me further determined to keep Leo at my side. I didn’t know how I would, but with Gunhee, Younha and Leo all supporting me, I was sure we could all figure something.

Leo was returning back to being pleasant with Gunhee as well, appreciating his help in removing the incriminating behaviour and his renewed support throughout the week. They were inseparable and it made my heart swell finding the pair laughing together as they approached me after work both days. I hadn’t realised just how happy Leo could appear with other people at his side. He seemed to grow further confidence than I ever knew possible for him. It was attractive and admittedly, I was falling further in love with the man who was fighting so hard to keep his existence in this world.

It felt like this week had been so full of emotions that when Saturday arrived, I wasn’t prepared for something as normal as dinner over at Younha’s home. She had invited Leo and I over to hers to meet him officially and have a little double date dinner party. It was my first time showing my boyfriend to anyone though, and even though my boss knew all too well what it was like dating a Kboy, I was still anxious on what her reaction might be. I wanted to make the right impression, and I was already exhausted in just preparing for the event.

Leo leaned against the bathroom door frame, watching me as I groaned over my eye makeup not being even. He chuckled. “I don’t understand, you work with this person, why does it matter if you look good or not? I mean, you look gorgeous to me no matter what you wear, but your friend does not need to be impressed since you have me to date already.”

I suppressed my laughter and pulled my mascara wand away from my face so I wouldn’t make a mistake at his endearing take on things.

“What’s so amusing? From my search, impressing someone comes in the common forms of requiring a job, to join as a member of someone’s family, or when wanting to become someone’s lover. You already have a job, and you definitely have a lover.” He stopped to eye me a little too appreciatively and I couldn’t help but blush. “Do we need to become her family then?”

“There’s more than that, I just want my boss to think we’re a good couple.”

“Why does she need to approve whether we are or not? In my eyes, there’s nothing better than us. We compliment each other well, don’t you think?”

I sighed in content, turning around to face Leo before crossing the short space between us, reaching up to kiss his lips. He smiled into the embrace before wrapping his arms around my towel-clad body, drawing me in closer. I knew this all too well, the arousal would soon build within him and my efforts would have to be started all over again. We did not have time for an afternoon delight if I wanted to look my best.

Unfortunately.

“Leo!” I whined into his fevered kisses and he hummed, not relinquishing my lips but definitely trying to remove my towel. I gasped when I felt it slip and yanked back. “Honestly!”

“You started it,” he commented, licking at his lips, his dark eyes alive with lust and amusement. I backed away from him then but he followed, his hands finding my sides again. “We don’t have to impress them. If it means that much to you though, I’ll be on my best behaviour. Besides, this is the person with Daniel who also has a job in the building right? Maybe we can become friends and work colleagues.”

My heart melted right there and Leo knew it, lifting me up much too easily and placing me down on the countertop before stepping in between my legs. His kisses were back in full force and I moaned, my attempts to push him away waning as the desire to do other things built up instead.

“My make up!” I wailed as he left my lips to suck at the crook of my neck. I didn’t even have it in me to stop him from having his own way now.  

He breathed heavily for a moment, glancing up at me before picking my body up and carrying me into the bedroom across the hallway. “I told you, you look great in whatever you wear, but this is my favourite.”

He emphasised his words by the tugging of my towel away, staring at my naked form for only a moment before climbing over top of me.

I would just have to hurry to fix things enough after Leo was done making me see stars again.

  “I’m so glad you made it! Oh Yerin, you look so pretty tonight!” Younha gushed in greeting and Leo gave me a look that screamed I told you so as he handed over the bottle of champagne we’d had brought with us. The older woman took it graciously and patted his arm. “Aren’t you the sweetest, please come inside!”

We removed our shoes and then stepped up into her home, Daniel waiting with a broad smile.

“Welcome to our home!” He bowed in greeting and Leo glanced at me before bowing in return.

For the next half hour, we left Daniel and Leo to the kitchen after both of them insisted, and sat on the plush sofa in Younha’s living area. She kept taking peeks at them preparing the dinner and finally reached for my lower arm. “He seems so different from what I expected. He’s more fluid in his actions. Look at the pauses Daniel makes in comparison.”

We both watched them for a moment and unlike Daniel, Leo sensed us staring, glancing up at us and shooting us an awkward smile. Younha giggled. “He gets awkward like that too?! Is it a trait for his Kboy model?”

“It’s something he does without thinking about it,” I replied, somewhat proud of how I was able to tell that. It made me smile. “Leo doesn’t really seem much like his living counterpart. Sure, he has some similarities minus his looks but I don’t see him as Leo from VIXX at all.”

“Wow. Daniel might have some shaping from being with me but he’s still very much so scripted to his living half. I’m not going to lie, I love Daniel and I wouldn’t change him for another model, but sometimes he feels very one dimensional.”

“This is his first time interacting with another Kboy, right?” I asked and Younha shook her head. I frowned. “Is he always this nervous then?”

“No, he normally leads the way.” Younha glanced up to see Daniel apologising and looking to Leo in a way that almost seemed out of awe. We both shared an intrigued expression.

Dinner was served before we could dwell on it too much, and despite not eating with us, both men joined us at the dinner table. Conversation flowed easily, Younha asked many questions and Leo responded to them all well enough. He seemed to be pleased that she thought so highly of him. Daniel was quiet though, looking over at Leo when he thought no one was watching, and I noticed he seemed to be thinking quite deeply. A comfortable silence hit the table and I chose to use it to approach Daniel.

“Are you alright, Daniel?”

He blinked a couple of times and then nodded once. “Of course Yerin-noona.”

“You’re awfully quiet, my puppy,” Younha added on and he smiled weakly. He normally was the type to shoot the biggest toothy grins at her, along with love hearts nestled in his gaze. It made me worried.

“I was just… it’s my first time thinking about what it would be like to taste the food Leo hyung and I created.”

“I’ve always wondered. It’s one of the things I hate most about being a robot. I’m certain if I was human, I’d love to eat,” Leo replied earnestly and Daniel’s eyes widened.

“You’ve thought about being human, hyung?”

Leo nodded, glancing over at me and then smiled. “Every single day.”

“I… I never felt I had a need to. But now, I wish to think about it some more.”

“You should explore whatever you want to, I’ll support you, Daniel-ah,” Younha told him, whilst shooting me another glance.

“Just be careful, it’s not always nice thoughts,” Leo warned with a sigh. He then tried to brighten the mood. “But if I could eat one thing, I think I’d like to try chocolate. I want to know why Yerin eats so much of it! From the ingredients online, it sounds too sweet.”

“Did you know there are British developers who have found a sustainable way to feed robots to turn the food they eat into energy?” Younha mentioned and she suddenly had all of Leo’s attention, Daniel soon getting invested too.

I sighed happily as I looked around the table and felt a strong sense of hope that Leo would change the lives of so many around us, robots and humans alike. 

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Next chapter

A/N: After all this angst we’ve faced it was nice to have a happy feel good chapter! What do you think of Daniel’s response to Leo? Interesting right? I love how Leo has the ability to capture the attention of all those who cross paths with him!

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Stories

🐲🐉 The story begins with the Dragon Charmer. A young, blooming soul, daringly taking the first steps on the rough path. The words escaping Aries' mouth are almost never soothing to the ear, but nevertheless true. They say, the truth always hurts. But Aries knows sometimes it's exactly the only thing that can help. The determined Dragon Charmer enters the beast's cave. Its walls are burning and vibrating with unspoken curses. The air is hot, suffocating. They step nearer, without a single spasm of reluctance. A solitaire tear of freedom slides down their face, though. It's simply unbelievable! They've finally reached it. They're going to do it. Right now, right there. Aries draws out their silver blade, stained with years of war, years of white and black fury, right behind the gigantic beast. Aries knows it hears them. It might devour Aries' whole life out of their body. It could turn cities, empires into ashes with a mere breath. And the beast knows what they're about to do. It has lived a long, dull life. Taking the life of others doesn't make yours any better. It just leaves all their lingering problems on your shoulders. Lifetimes of loneliness and hope, all carried by an equally lonely beast. Neither of them is afraid, though. Neither wants to give up on the aching tales that, sooner or later, will be spilled all over the unknowing world. No one never wins. But where would be the fun if they did? 🏡🚪 In another corner of the world, in a village you might call boring, you, perhaps, might even have trouble finding on the map, there's a nice and very charming house marking the last portal to another realm. The 'Doorgiver', as they jockingly like to call themselves, lives a quiet life. They wake up early. They dress up, eat some butter bread and drink a glass of honey tea, while in their hands the morning newspaper reads old stories. "The mayor's changing offices again," Taurus mumbles their breath, not really surprised. After they're done eating, Taurus walks down the rose alleys into the village, and does their groceries as any other inhabitant of the place. On every monday and thursday. Never later than midday.Tuesdays, Taurus gives some meditation lessons to the local yoga club. Sometimes, they'll all go together to the cinema in the evening. On every wednesday and friday, they take long walks into the forests surrounding the village. There's an odd door carved into a tree, not far away from the main path. But it's not their door, and they hardly mind it. Once they knocked curiously on its dark motive, but no reply came back anyway. On saturday, Taurus invites some neighbors over, and have tee or lemonade. Sunday mornings they wake once with the sun. The village is always quiet on sundays. Taurus has, as usual, a nice breakfast, puts on clothes and walks up to the front door. "Yes?" They ask. The strange-dressed man before them gives Taurus a mischievous look, but says nothing. "So you remembered the right door to knock at." 🎪🎭 It's the show night. The clowns put on they're funny little hats and funny big shoes, the beautiful dancers pamper their bodies with glowing moon-powder, the tiger keeper whistles calmly to his beloved friend. "5 more minutes!" The voice calls. Everyone must be ready. Everyone must enjoy the spectacle. Only old, bitter fools would want to spoil it. Old, bitter fools like the Trickster. Rejected by the clowns, dismissed by the magician, Gemini never found their place between earth and air. "Belle, it's time for your dancers." Gemini observes how a suite of jeweled dancers walks prettily onto the stage. Music, sparkles and hearts. Not much later, after the dancing act ends, the circus workers take their place. But only to begin installing great metal walls around the spectacle arena. And, after that, all kind of feral animals take the spotlight. Some bite, some spit. Some kill the tamer. The public couldn't care less. The show must go on. Even the magician and the clowns are done as the Trickster makes their way onto the stage. They've no distinct job in this place. No real jokes, or talents. Gemini's dressed in a long, plucked coat, with mismatched shoes and a topper they stole from the magician's car. Their presence is noticed. They've got a quirky way of putting their mind into words, an unexpected sense of irony and definitely a great many secrets. The public cheers. They love them. Some, in awe, raise up and applaud with excitement. Everyone wonders how they could forget the Trickster; their favorite part of the show. Meanwhile, back in their small cabinet, Gemini closes their very own pandora box. 👑🌕 Once upon a time, there was a crown. And this crown, like no other of its kind, was a gift of the water gods themselves. For its jewels are real ocean drops, its gold always shining an unusual blue. It's something hundred of monarchs started wars for. Something that flooded cities and destroyed civilizations. Something that felt into wrong hands, was misused, and eventually returned to its rightful owner. Now, a childlike (though old enough to have lived the creation of this world) Heir's head is where the wet dome rests most of its unending days. The Heir is small and pretty. They like to soothe the crown's pointy ends, polish every water droplet and sing. But underneath all of that porcelain skin, there's resistant silver. Layers of tears, of sorrow and fear too. Cancer plays with the beautiful roses in the gardens, gets enchanted by their sweet perfume, and hides hurting after they're remembered by a bleeding finger of how cruel these games can be. At midnight, they walk outside again. Only that this time they've got absolutely nothing to fear. It's the time when their crown shines the brightest. When lullabies, and wishes, and souls fly up to the mooned sky and cry happily. Cancer misses touches of the dark, but midnight moments seem forever enough. ☀️🍸 Unless the high pyramids would flip over and open a passage to an undiscovered land, the gold of deep rivers be forgotten, or the day the sun won't rise up again, there isn't much for mere mortals to care about. Of course, there is death. And loss. Also, they passionately hate peace. But enough about mere mortals. There have been times and situations where the only thing of real relevance was whether the Gods liked or liked you not. The only thing that could save or kill you. Lost in the desert, under murderous rays of ultraviolets, alone. Alone with the Gods. The world has known their wrath, their fury and misery. It fell and disappeared with it at once. But, it also bloomed and shone with their mercy, and care, and love. For each whispered prayer, each obedient sacrifice, each offered soul reborns and makes the bond with the Gods stronger. From their light throne of paradise gold, Leo nods at the sight of gratitude and fear coming from their silly followers. Even a bird would know better than fly too far and enrage them. Even a shadow would know to hide under its motive than defy them. Because they're greatness embodied into human face. Into human alikeness and voice. But do they love them? Do they really feel like a human? They're a pitiful, weak race. Nothing in comparison to Leo's grace. Above heavens, loneliness is hard to bear. But sky wine with bubbles of pure pearls helps the soul forget. 🌲📚 Spookish, indefinite figures marsh down the wooden walls of the inner forest. They clash into thick, dark doors of a thin, tall house. A house that itself looks like a giant bookshelf. A house with a few dozens of stories. With an undefined amount of stories, of all kinds and uses. With long, curtained windows all over, big doors and plants fading into the forest's decor at the top. If one didn't look specifically for it, they wouldn't even notice its presence. It's like some undiscovered door hides it all behind a veil of secrecy. Like the only way to gain access is by some sort of extradimensional portal. The Timeless Scholar has been many times unpleasantly struck with the realization that, someone, somehow, could get inside and take on them vulnerable and unprepared. Or, worse, derange their sweet bookish solitude. Honestly, Virgo would rather have their throat sliced than someone laying one finger on their works. So much knowledge, in peril of some unknown, rather stupid and curious fool. Never! The Timeless Scholar decides to shut the door down. They aren't sure how they did it, but it works. Keep the fools away! Virgo murmurs to themselves. Sometimes, they still hear knocks from the other side. But they never pay any attention. After all, the only thing to be trusted is what lays on the forest's side. 🥀💋 In the light of morning, a Flower Cutter fights the urge to cry truth. Next to them, rows of smiles and glittering shoes captivate the transparency of day. They dance into circles. They sing to the lovely, perfumed plants. The Flower Cutter watches them right from the heart of the event. They see, they hear everything. Libra answers always. With the same natural easiness, same unnerving spirit. But shouldn't be there some pain, some disgusting feeling at all? Some depth? Libra laughs at the thought of it, because, why, yes of course it is. It's a full world of it. At the bottom of their heart, grasping new roots every time they breathe in. Making itself at home through the thorns and petals of lilies, swallowing all the numbness and hate out. Libra feels a stranger and a dear old sibling of life at once. Coming from the heavens, there's rain. Rain and colours. Everywhere, colour models the world how it pleases. It gives it hope. It feeds it hate. A little of everything. It's funny. How some think that suffering and loneliness does only bad. It's a shame they still choose truth, Libra thinks, and the flower's head meekly hits the ground. 🐈🔥 Spices, feathers, spiders, black gems, dead names. The cauldron sparkles joyfully under the stir of a silver-headed spoon. Hoarded behind the window's curtains, the candles squeak oddly. There's wax everywhere on the floor underneath. The silky, old things catch fire, and a hellish warmth bursts into the room. Though, the squeaking! It annoys the Witch terribly. Scorpio leaves their comfortable armchair at the chimney, and proceeds to blow the fire off. Around them, six cats meow more or less in distress, the seventh looking considerably bored from her high-placed lair. Scorpio curses the candles, and they shut up in fear. No more squeaking, at least! they think. The fire also calms slowly down. Beside one of Scorpio's dark robes, discarded in one of the corners of the room, a familiar meows keenly. Yes, yes. It's 7 in the evening, after all. The Witch fetches some bowls, and feels them up with food and milk. After they're done, Scorpio returns to their comfortable place and closes the eyes tiredly. What a distasteful situation. Shall the fire come once more to their house, they'll send it straight back to hell. Shall the obsessive thoughts set their mind ablaze again, the Witch will know how to have it instantly disappear into a shadow of nothing. 🚍🌄 The Professor grins from behind their rose-tinted car window. They roll it down, saluting the watchman. "Sorry, Professor, but the observatory's closed today. There's a fire code announced." "Fire code, you say? Oh, bad luck. Bad luck for me, indeed." Sagittarius wheels anyway down the entering road. The watchman calls them to stop, but they don't even listen to him. When they reach a spot far enough for the watchman to find them, the Professor leaves the truck behind and walks along the contaminated waterline. It's glowing with deadly substances. Sagittarius' eyes burn every time they stare at the fantastic, surreal colours. All neons, he feels like a traveler who finally found the path to heaven. Of course, heaven's a very malleable word. Shall it be a dreamlike garden, with clouds for flowers and ambrosia for water? Or a room full of unopened passages. A room leading to a thousand places, a thousand such gardens. The truth is, the lethal waterline never ends. It's a great guide, but a terrible destination. It's thrilling, it's almost entrancing. It captivates the thirsty mind, lures it to know, to desire adventure. Sagittarius kicks their shoes off, and jumps into the water. It surely won't hurt as bad as the first time. Above them, the sky pulses in bright pinks and glistening oranges bursts. ⚔️🏆 A troupe of blood-red dressed soldiers march towards north. None of them dares look back, or, worse, doubt their cause. Gossips never erupt in the camps, and no one allies with no one. They've all got the same mission. World domination. They've all got the same means of winning. Leading hounds of hell everywhere it's needed. They all follow the same leader. The Great Marshal. A fist of iron, a mind of composure, a soul of spiteful determination and inflexibility. Capricorn is definitely a human to be feared, to be obeyed no matter the situation. They have a suite of cruel weapons, and will gladly use them to punish you for your unruliness. They hate unruliness. They, and that curious sibling of theirs. But no one dares to say a word about the Great Marshal. Only this small information that slipped somehow out is a dangerous taboo. Nights and days, on boats or tanks, they travel the world. They live on subdue, glory, supremacy. Capricorn kills what must be killed, spare what shall be of use later. No one, ever, disagrees with their decisions. All of their faithful soldiers would follow them to the bloody hell, and back. Of course, countless armies tried to pin them down. To make them retreat, to take away all what their beloved leader gained after so many hard won, fair battles. But the blood-red soldiers know better than let themselves be fooled by such irrelevant, crazy concepts. For their ruler is undying. They're something this world will hold for greatness a long time after they, the soldiers, will perish away, and new ones will replace them. 💼🛰 There are few things that the Alien Minister (officially admits) they don't know: firstly, Earth's days have come to an end. It won't last long until its shallow crust will fulminate into fire blades, cutting and throwing pieces of soil everywhere in the Universe. It will be forgotten as quickly as it has been created. But the question remains: whose going to save it from its awful sorrow? Well, of course Aquarius cares. Not the affectionate, dependent kind of caring. But from afar, regretting all the great communities and societies they assisted, they influenced from their very first tender beginnings. Not weeping, but pitying what could have been. The second thing Aquarius doesn't know, it's how they'll manage to rebuild everything. The voices, the freedom, the ingenuity of the new ages. They'll be alone for a while; that's obvious. They don't even mind it that much. But it's much more entertaining to create alongside others. Much, much more provocative for the mind and the inspiration process. Yet, what could they do? The world's finally ending. The people wanted it gone, and gone shall they have it. There's more to being a humanitarian than compassion. Besides, they've never set foot in that place anyway. Nothing would really change for Aquarius. Pressing the END button, the Alien Minister leaves behind their spaceship only a pulverized tray of existence. 🕊🌊 Pisces stands at the seashore. They look at a point far away in the distance, indefinite and shabby. "Must be my last hope," they murmur, as the shapeless spot flutters nearer and nearer. The sunset is also just around the corner. Soon, the world will be swallowed by old darkness. How long will it take until they'll see light again? How much pain will they have to suffer until everything will be fine again? Pisces doesn't know. The spot finally reaches the place where they're sitting, and it turns out to be a small bird. It's feathers are turquoise, with drops of lila pearls at the ends. Its eyes are sun-gold. Its song sweet, sad. "We're the only ones, little bird." Pisces begins weeping, knuckling the tears away with incredible misery and grief. What shall they do? All they ever wanted was a place to feel free. To feel safe. To feel young and old and strong and meek and alive. But the world's almost gone. They're no dragon slayer. No wise archivist. No god, nor do they have armies to rule behind their shoulders. They have just one, last protection against whatever will happen. Hope. Nestled at their chest, the beautiful, small bird chirps soothingly. "There, there," Pisces whispers, patting her on the head. Maybe they'll come back. Maybe they'll hear the Ocean Child's cries, and come to rescue them.