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sepublic · 3 years

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The Golden Guard: Eda’s Dark Parallel?

Does anyone else think that the Golden Guard actually reminds Lilith a LOT of Eda, specifically Eda as a kid, during the good old days before she got cursed?

Think about it… They’re both sassy, hot-headed teen prodigies with an owl motif and yellow attire. And the way Lilith angrily talks about the Golden Guard, it seems her feelings of resentment mirror how she felt towards Eda back when they were kids? Lilith, who was by-the-book and traditional, worked so hard… And then there’s this younger person with an Owl motif who just swoops in out of nowhere and through talent, completely outclasses her!

If you go with the idea that Lilith wanted Gwendolyn’s approval and had to compete with Eda over that… Then for all we know, maybe Lilith lowkey wanted Belos’ approval as well, but felt like she was being cheated out of that with the Golden Guard, who kept stealing the spotlight from her!

Like she was afraid he’d take her spot as head of the Emperor’s Coven, the way Lilith feared that Eda would win the initiation duel back when they were kids… And lo and behold, the Golden Guard DID take that! Granted Lilith left an obvious vacancy from her own betrayal of Belos so of course he took that spot, but still; It’s quite a sore spot.

In some ways, perhaps Lilith is aware of this, deep-down or not; She might see the Golden Guard as just Young Eda, but without any of the emotional connection, nor any redeeming qualities; If he does have them, again, it’s not like Lilith knows the Golden Guard well enough to know these traits, much less take them into account.

LOTS of text and speculation and analyses below!!!

The Golden Guard is even sixteen years old… Which, is very likely EDA’s age, back when her and Lilith competed for the Emperor’s Coven! That can take on a whole new, dark meaning for her…

Perhaps Lilith is low-key disturbed by the Golden Guard’s existence, because he reminds her too much of Young Eda? Eda, before she was cursed- So it’s like the memory of her is coming back to haunt Lilith, in the form of someone who has no concern for Lilith whatsoever to hold him back, unlike the actual Eda.

And in a way, it’s a horrible reminder that some things never change, that some things stay the same and Lilith can’t get past them, she can’t outgrow it like she thought she did; Because even now, even as head of the Emperor’s Coven, there’s still a 16-year-old prodigy with an owl motif and yellow attire, who is sassy and playful and mischievous, who threatens to upstage Lilith’s self-esteem and sense of power. Somebody Lilith is afraid of; Thirty years later, and she STILL has to deal with this kind of person in her life, but it’s worse because she’s actually older and should be better, yet somehow isn’t…

Who knows? Maybe Lilith even recognized the similarities to Eda, enough to actually be sympathetic to the Golden Guard at first? Perhaps she, on some level, saw the Golden Guard as a way to vicariously redo her past with Eda, but without the mistakes… Maybe she tried to be nice to the Golden Guard, but then he quickly turned out to be a snob, he’s not REALLY Eda; So Lilith settled on never cursing him like she did Eda, but then otherwise decided that she didn’t owe him any love and could just quietly loathe his guts.

Lilith failed Eda in part because she was an older sister who abandoned her in a time of need, but there’s not really that expectation with the Golden Guard, so why bother? She’s got enough on her plate as is, and an ACTUAL Eda to worry about, to look after, to be concerned for and patch things up with.

I’ve even seen people make the very good point that in a lot of ways… The Golden Guard is like a Dark Eda? In the sense that, he’s Eda, had she joined the Emperor’s Coven as a kid. He’s a look at Young Eda, if she didn’t reject the Coven System, and joined Belos- Reveling in her own talent and power as granting her ‘special treatment’ over the rest, so any downsides to the coven system weren’t HER problem anyway!

Again, this adds another layer to the Golden Guard being very reminiscent of Young Eda, and even current Eda as well… Except, he never lost his magic and was never cursed. Maybe that’s another thing he unknowingly haunts Lilith over; He’s lowkey a reminder of what Eda could’ve been, had Lilith not been selfish and a coward, or had she communicated better. Yet at the same time, he’s frustrating- Because the Golden Guard is like the worst parts of Eda, the parts that Lilith hated and made her resentful…

And this constant reminder of the past, of her own issues with Eda back then that culminated in the curse- It could’ve made it a LOT harder for Lilith to really resolve things with Eda, because this kid keeps reminding her why she was so angry, and it’s impossible for her to move on because the Golden Guard isn’t some distant memory, but an actual person who continues to threaten her, the way Eda had…

And of course, the Golden Guard reminds Lilith of the Eda she lost; The happy, carefree Eda who wasn’t cursed, the Eda she could’ve had in a sense. The Eda that Lilith in some ways wanted, yet is forced to confront and acknowledge is a very obnoxious and terrible person that makes her unhappy…

And this kind of rude reminder that the Eda that Lilith wanted would’ve continued to make her miserable, if not moreso, is not something she appreciates shattering her dreams and low-key denial, of a world where things had just been a little different.

The person you’re trying to get, maybe get BACK, wasn’t so great after all- So you just have to move on, and be glad for the Eda who IS happier with her life and more mature, despite being older and more cursed. You gotta move past your guilt Lilith, and realize that Eda is in a better place- Not that she ever needed the curse, but she doesn’t quite need saving from the parts of her life she actually chose for herself, in part to be kind to Lilith no less! Because I bet Lilith believes that deep down, she didn’t deserve Eda’s kindness, so she wishes to reverse that compassionate decision of Eda’s that only resulted in Eda suffering because of how terrible Lily secretly is.

But, back to the subject; There’s more similarities to Eda and the Golden Guard, especially at the end of Separate Tides; How he makes an ominous warning before casually, happily yelling “BYYEEEE!!!”, just like Eda when she warns Luz about trying to have a Moonlight Conjuring in Hooty’s Moving Hassle, before heading off to the Night Market. His widow’s peak even bears a decent resemblance to Eda’s, doesn’t it? Which…

Combined with all of the talk about bird motifs being a Clawthorne thing, it DOES raise many questions about the Golden Guard’s potential connection to Eda. Is he some long-lost son? A third child that Gwendolyn had later in life, because witch biology might allow them to do that? Some homunculus, crafted from bits of DNA from Eda, and maybe even Belos? Belos does seem weirdly fond and trusting of him, the two are placed together in the Season 2 outro when nobody else, not even Kikimora, is there; And of course, the Golden Guard wields a staff, red magic, and fleshy creations, VERY similar to Belos…

I can’t say for sure- But the idea of the Golden Guard as an alternate Eda is fascinating. An Eda who became completely arrogant, and didn’t stop to care about others; Her cockiness and mischief becoming cruel and obnoxious, essentially the worst parts of Eda, down the path she’d always dreaded. A look into another life, a different choice in such a pivotal part of her past… Personally, I LOVE this kind of dark parallel of a character, so I’m hoping these similarities are commented upon in-universe, assuming they’re not outright literal!

In a way, the Golden Guard could haunt Eda, because he reminds her of herself… Of her carefree youth, but what she could’ve had… But also, the terrible things she’d done. And obviously Eda despises the coven system too much to really change her mind, and it’s safe to say that the Golden Guard is not at all what she wanted to ever become… But still, it’s a neat bit of character writing and parallelism. If Belos is like a Dark Luz, what Luz could’ve been had she not grown… And the same could apply between King and Kikimora;

Then who knows? The Golden Guard could be a Dark Eda, who got by talent and continued to take things for granted. An Eda who swore loyalty to Belos and was embraced by the emperor for her skill and ability. Jovial and cheery, but without any of the actual compassion that makes this genuine with Eda. An immature brat who never grew up (granted he’s only sixteen and hasn’t gotten the chance), unlike Eda. And if the Golden Guard is an alternate Eda;

It’s fascinating how his roles are reversed with his alternate Luz… The Eda parallel is younger than the Luz parallel, learning from them, and taking after their motifs as well! But I guess it’s not all too surprising, with how Eda and Luz both learn from one another, though I suspect Belos and the Golden Guard aren’t as mutual, but who knows?

It does make you wonder about Kikimora and King as potential mediators between these duos, whose placement remains consistent… How does Kikimora, the King parallel, interact with her Luz and Eda? Did she become close friends with HER Luz, while, as Dana’s art suggests, she seems somewhat irritated by and resentful of her own Eda? So it’s like Eda and King never grew to be friends and conquer differences… As well as if King never grew to respect Luz and saw her as just a “f*cking nerd”?

With how Luz is taking after Eda, and possibly getting a Cardinal palisman to complete the Clawthorne motif as a new member of the family… Who knows? The Golden Guard could be an intriguing character for her to bounce off of narratively, maybe as someone Luz might have, in another universe, learned to look up to and admire? How well Luz’s relationship be with the Golden Guard, if they are a Dark Eda? And how can this indirectly show us about how Luz and Young Eda would’ve interacted, what Young Eda was like, what Lilith went through as a kid…

And, for all we know- The Golden Guard’s owl motif doesn’t hint at a pre-existing connection to the Clawthornes, but rather a future one… Maybe he’ll end up being adopted by Eda, the way Luz was? I’d love to see the Golden Guard become an evil older sibling who’s protective of Luz…

I ADORE that trope to death; Evil older brother with bright, younger sister, whom he cares about, and the sister cares for him too, even if it’s complicated because the sister believes in the brother to be better, while the brother doesn’t want to be better, or is at least reluctant about having to change…

I’d love to see another Hugo and Kipo dynamic, and actually… If the Golden Guard parallels Eda, then who’s his Lilith? Could it be Luz herself? I’ve talked before the similarities between Luz and Lilith, as kids who were bullied and struggled with a lack of talent, but made up for it with hard work and ingenuity; They’ll give you a lot of trouble for doing the right thing, but then happily leap at the opportunity if they think someone is improving.

And, as Separate Tides has also shown us; They both grapple with guilt over making Eda suffer, unintentionally to varying degrees. Luz and Lilith both learn that they’re not a burden and that it’s okay to ask for help, and come to terms with their guilt with Eda… If Belos and the Golden Guard are Luz and Eda reversed, then could Luz and the Golden Guard also be Lilith and Luz, reversed?

With the Eda parallel being the older sibling in this scenario… An alternate timeline where Eda and Lilith were the same people, but switched places in birth, and it was EDA who ended up being the cruel and toxic sibling who left the younger feeling demeaned and worthless. I imagine if that were the case, the Golden Guard’s toxicity would occur largely in the beginning, as he acts adversarial to Luz and mocks her, taunts her over Eda’s loss of magic, and her own glyphs no doubt; The Golden Guard doesn’t seem to acknowledge glyphs as a valid form of magic himself.

But then, if he were to get a redemption, the Golden Guard’s tune might change as he matures and learns to treat Luz more kindly… In a way mimicking how Eda really grew to care for Luz, but also the way Eda has begun to reconnect with Lilith, except with the Golden Guard as the one with the baggage and guilt.

And, a redemption might not be too implausible, because… He is literally only sixteen, the same age as Emira and Edric, and likely the same age as Eda when SHE was cursed. Younger than Lilith, when she made the worst mistake of her life, because she didn’t understand the coven system for what it truly was –and who could blame her?- and was grappling with a likely terrible mother in Gwendolyn… The Golden Guard is literally a minor, and possibly an overworked teen prodigy.

After all, the first glimpse of his personality Dana gave us, way back in 2020, was of the Golden Guard admitting that he was tired; And despite his usually cheery personality, all of our glimpses at his face behind the mask (symbolism!) have had him look likely serious and glum… But then again, we don’t see the lower half of his face, so who knows?

Perhaps the Golden Guard is abused and overworked by Belos, kind of like Amity with her parents… The Golden Guard is a child dealing with a very toxic influence, and a huge burden of responsibility no less. And with all the potential connections to Belos as maybe even a literal father, or at least a parental figure, it’s not hard to see why the Golden Guard would turn out so messed up. And the Golden Guard being ‘tired’ could be a connection to how Eda is left exhausted from her curse, too.

So, who knows? Because of his age, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect, or at least hope, for a redemption for this kiddo. But a recent sister show to The Owl House has taught me anything, kids aren’t free from death, and Infinity Train made it clear that you can humanize and sympathize and mourn someone who deserved better, yet ultimately dug their grave and was condemned to a sudden death because of that; All because they didn’t know any better, and really couldn’t have.

And on another note- Maybe the Golden Guard has owl motifs like Eda… Because in a lot of ways, he actually admires her? He admires the Owl Lady, or at least the certain ‘past’ version that others such as Lilith may have brought up… Maybe the Golden Guard seeks to supplant Eda the Owl Lady as The Most Powerful Witch in the Boiling Isles. Maybe he sees himself as Eda, but better, and this rebellious, hot-headed kid feels the need to prove himself by defeating someone he sees himself in.

Maybe the Golden Guard is like Lilith, as someone who wishes Eda could’ve joined the coven system, and he’s disappointed in how all her talent was ‘wasted’ on other things. Maybe the Golden Guard was disappointed in Eda losing her magic, losing further respect for his ‘problematic idol’, and/or he felt some validation and vindication in being a successor to Eda.

Does he hold some grudge? Did the Owl Lady’s power excite him, give the Golden Guard a goal to recklessly challenge and defeat, so he can experience the thrill of victory and add to this feeling of invincibility that teenagers, especially the talented ones, have?

Eda as a kid, and even now, has always been fond of spiting what others say she can’t do, or setting new precedents and accomplishments to prove herself. Maybe the Golden Guard is like that, and hopes to take on the onus of outdoing the Owl Lady; Perhaps he admires Eda, and wishes she could’ve joined a coven like him. As an outside admirer, he mourns Eda’s ‘potential’ in a way similar to Lilith, but different; Because he’s a kid who looks up to her, and not an older sibling that has an actual childhood with Eda. If so, then that’s another dark parallel to Luz;

After all, Luz got frustrated by Eda in Adventures in the Elements. So maybe the Golden Guard is someone who grew resentful of Eda for not living up to the legend he hoped, the image he wanted, sort of like Lilith! I’ll go out on a limb and even suggest him as a past apprentice, who unlike Luz, never learned to be patient and appreciate Eda’s teachings, so he turned to the coven system and Belos for easy gratification. He didn’t want to be challenged… And in that way, the Golden Guard could parallel my speculation on Belos, as also a Dark Luz.

So of course, it makes sense that Belos would recognize this same dilemma in the Golden Guard, and perhaps be sympathetic and take him under his wing for it. Eda might not recognize the Golden Guard because he’s changed a bit himself, is hiding his own identity –Lilith doesn’t seem to know much about the witch beneath the mask either, just the public image and façade- and Eda’s been having memory issues. Maybe this will add to the Golden Guard’s resentment, who knows? He really might just be a rebellious teen who Eda failed, unlike with Luz… And that could add to more envy, perhaps.

At the very least; Dana’s fondness for the Golden Guard takes on a whole new meaning… What with how Eda is pretty much one of, if not THE most favorite character of hers, the one who really jumpstarted this entire show and world to begin with… Having this other character she likes essentially be a canon AU version of that beloved creation, would certainly make a lot of sense! Dana likes Eda, she likes to show us about Young Eda; So a character who IS Young Eda, just on a different path, would likely appeal to her. We’ll see…

I think it’s worth noting that in her art of the Golden Guard, it depicts him as essentially a normal, lazy teenager who’s asking someone else to do his chore for him, while he lounges around to do something else. I could see a young Eda as occasionally fulfilling that role and asking her older sister Lily for a favor- And maybe this could allude to the Golden Guard being frequently exhausted from being overworked himself, hence “I’m tired” and wanting to extend his breaks as much as possible. We’ll just have to wait and see…

#the owl house #the owl house golden guard #the golden guard #the owl house the golden guard #the owl house eda #edalyn clawthorne #the owl house lilith #lilith clawthorne #the owl house belos #emperor belos #speculation #theory #analysis #essay #the owl house hunter

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thebmatt · 3 years

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FFXIV Write Day 2

Aberrant - departing from an accepted standard OR diverging from the normal type.

CONTENT WARNING: asshole parents denigrating their child with sexually charged language

"Master? A letter arrived for you."

Ahldblaet Fyrilberksyn looked up from the stack of documents with an irritated expression at the servant who'd interrupted him, a hyuran male of fair skin and hair. "Well, boy? Who is it from then? Twelve save you if this isn't worth interrupting my very important work!"

The man went even paler. "I....I don't know, master. The envelope was not signed. The post markings indicate that it originated in Eorzea, but otherwise the only marking is that of a small green axe. I don't know..."

Ahldblaet's eyes, normally perpetually narrowed due to being deep set in his face, widened in shock. "Give that here!" he shouted. "And be gone with you!"

The servant scurried over to Ahldblaet's massive desk and practically dropped the envelope on the nearest corner before fleeing with all haste, as though for his life. Ahldblaet immediately snatched it from the stack of parchment it had fallen on and inspected the markings that the servant had mentioned.

"Husband?" a voice called from the side door that led from his office further into the home. Said door opened and a shorter Roegadyn woman stepped through, her ash-colored skin in marked contrast to the sea-blue dress she wore. Her dark grey hair framed a face that wore an annoyed expression. "What is all this bellowing about? You are disturbing my guests. It is...unseemly."

Ahldblaet turned his severe gaze upon the new entrant. He was tall and exceptionally broad, a picture of strength in his youth, but his body had taken on a measure of fat in his older age and more sedentary work. Despite this, and his balding head of hair, his steely eyed expression still cowed many of the people he dealt with on a day to day basis. "It would seem, wife, that the enormous investment we have paid into those mercenaries we dispatched to Eorzea may have finally borne fruit. This is a missive their leader sent me. After our last communication I told him, in no uncertain terms, not to contact me until he had something of note to report. Unless he has foolishly ignored my orders, this would mean he has something."

The woman was not cowed, having long becoming immune to her husband's glares. Impatiently she gestured to the envelope. "Well, open it then, you great oaf! Maybe we will finally learn where our daughter vanished to!"

Ahldblaet tore the envelope and removed the missive inside. He began to read aloud, knowing from prior experience if he did not, his wife would snatch the paper from his hands mid-sentence. She was not a patient one.

"Masters Ahldblaet Fyrilberksyn and Lady Usynwyda Holaszirnwyn,

I am please to report that after much time and hard work on the part of the Emerald Marauders, we have located your wayward daughter. Furthermore, we have determined the reasoning as to why she evaded both us and every previous mercenary company your lordship sent to retrieve her

First, your daughter is no longer using her given name of Syhrwyda Ahldblaetwyn. Asking after that name yielded no results, aside from the merchants who recognized it only as pertaining to you. By sheer luck, we eventually stumbled across a Roegadyn language scholar who knew the translation of her first name and directed us to an adventurer known as 'Fearless Willow', one of the Warriors of Light.

I am hoping the story of the Warriors of Light does not require an explanation for your lordship, but I will remind you that these people are slayers of godlike beings who regularly enslave the minds of mortals around them, have engaged massive numbers of Garlean soldiers and magitek armor, defeated Imperial Legatuses in single combat (including the Crown Prince), and decisively ended a thousand-year war between a dragon horde and the nation of Ishgard.

From there, we set out to determine if this woman and your daughter are one and the same. It is well known that one of the Warriors of Light is in fact a Roegadyn woman, but we needed to be certain. Adventurers are often well traveled and thanks to the Aetheryte network, difficult to track. Your descriptions were also primarily of the physical sort, which did not help, as appearances are easy enough to change.

We caught a break in speaking to one of the mercenary crews you'd previously hired. Many of them had been either entirely wiped or or reduced in numbers to the degree that they'd disbanded. What few remained refused to speak with us once it became clear who we were tracking. One particular mercenary of an Ala Mhigan band (known as the Graybear Den, which if you recall abruptly returned your payment and refused the contract) however, let slip some valuable information after our agents plied him with enough drink. Once he realized who we were speaking of, he grew agitated and swore he would never help us find 'the Warrior o' Light". It would seem the Graybears believe they owed a measure of loyalty to the Warriors of LIght for their instrumental parts in liberating their homeland.

It was, however, enough. Once we determined that your daughter and this Warrior of Light were in fact one and the same, we began looking for ways to isolate her and take her prisoner. Unfortunately this has proven extremely difficult. As they are involved in affairs that affect the entirety of the star, the Warriors of Light are often on the move, moreso than normal adventurers. Furthermore, as I have mentioned, they are peerless warriors, often in each other's company or those of their fellow Scions of the Seventh Dawn. If you don't know the order, suffice to say they are Warriors and Scholars both who labor on behalf of all peoples to defend the world against tyranny and false gods. They are exceptionally successful in this regard. The Scions often meet and collaborate with the leaders of various powers on this continent, who are often accompanied by their own soldiers or bodyguards.

We have remained patient however, and managed to catch a glimpse of her. As I mentioned was likely, she has extensively changed her appearance. Her hair is now of a longer cut and nearly all black, with only highlights of the teal you had mentioned remaining. She has also taken to wearing dark makeup.

We have also determined that unlike her fellow Warriors of Light, she does not dwell in the Scion's headquarters. Instead, she has taken to living in the Hingashi port city of Kugane, where she has a modest home in the district of the city reserved for foreigners.

Finally, and you may wish to brace her ladyship for this part, she does not live there alone. Our spies have reported that her home is occupied by two other women, and their observations of them interacting within the city indicates that the three of them are lovers

We believe that this is our best shot at capturing her, but the price for her return to you has just doubled.

You are doubtless shaking with rage, but you hired us to retrieve a woman that you led us to believe would provide minimal resistance. Even isolated from the other Scions in Kugane, we believe we will face extreme resistance in this job. For starters, your daughter has mastered several forms of combat, including the ways of the Hingashi samurai, the axe-masters of Abalathia's Spine, and the art of thaumaturgy. She is also known to wield the Sharlayan art of Astrology, and has mastered a form of dance from Radz-at-Han that wields circular blades with deadly precision.

Furthermore, Fearless Willow is a known and loved name within the borders of Kugane, despite being a foreigner in a city that remains neutral to all concerns beyond their borders. She was instrumental in aiding their geomancers in repelling an attack from a fox-like beast known as 'Kinko' and she also trained alongside the Sekiseigumi (the samurai order that enforces the laws of the city, brutally so) and helped them put down a rebellion from within their own ranks. One of her lovers is a high ranking member of the Sekiseigumi. The other is a member of her dance troupe who is on an extended tour in the city. She is every bit as deadly in the art as Fearless is.

The point is that, even isolated from the other Scions, many people will rush to her aid. We expect heavy resistance and significant losses. The original reward will not suffice to cover this.

We will not move forward with this operation until we have your confirmation of acceptance of the new price. And we suggest you hurry, as events brewing suggest your daughter will soon be called back to the fight, at which point it is impossible to tell when we will have another opportunity

Cmdr Guji Pokiji Chief Executive, Emerald Marauders

Ahldblaet set the letter on his desk, shaking with rage as he looked to his wife."How DARE that miniscule INSECT think to extort us?? A Warrior of Light, indeed. As if our useless fool of a daughter has the brains to take on even one sort of combat discipline, much less five! How gullible does he THINK us to be?"

Usynwyda nodded, a disgusted sneer on her face. "The NERVE of her, to merely toss aside the name we chose for her, only to refer to herself in the....ugh...common tongue! Still, the name cannot be a coincidence. Whatever other lies that little gnat undoubtedly told, this is the best lead we have had on Syhrwyda since she ran away."

"It is. And if they are not all lies, then it is all the more imperative we retrieve her before word of any of this gets out among our enemies. The very idea that she would toss aside the husband we painstakingly chose for her after careful selection and delicate negotiation in favor of laying with another woman, much less two! I worried she would do stupid things, but this level of degeneracy, of abberance? It is unconscionable!"

Usynwyda shuddered. "We cannot let this get out. I can never face any of the ladies if they should learn my daughter has become no better than some...common whore. We must marry her off to the Greinmyrgan boy with all haste before she does any further damage to us, to the company."

Ahldblaet scribbled furiously. "I am already writing orders to have our ship made ready and for our elite guards to prepare for a journey. We will find her and we end this nonsense."

Far away, in Kugane, the Warrior of Light known as Fearless Willow shuddered as she prepared to fall asleep. She had no ping from the Echo, no signal from her finely honed danger sense to explain it, but she definitely felt as if trouble was heading her way, and no idea what it might be.

#FFXIV 2021 Writing Challenge #Final Fantasy XIV #Fearless Willow #God her parents are the worst #Hopefully I get to write about Rheika's mom at some point so I can have some good parent balance

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bots-basket · 3 years

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Safety in numbers #7

Balan did all he could, but nothing seemed to be working as to calm the young visitor down as she curled up around herself and her dimly lit Mindcores. The mere mention or thought about this ‘Tobais’ was something completely worse than how she would usually respond to anything else. He wished to comfort her.. but that isn’t something she will allow of him at this point in time.

“Tobais...”

Lance murmured under his breathe as he looked to Balan and Rosie silently. She had been unable to say anything else about the mysterious person as she repeatedly stated in a panicked manner that they all were in fatal trouble. Lance was of course not bothered by such a statement; as it would take a lot to even consider something that dangerous to befall entities like him and Balan.

But Then again, he shouldn’t brush off her warnings so easily. If the mere Mention of their name warrants such a response, Then this.. ‘Tobais’ could really mean Trouble.

As the silent thought to also attempt to stop the child’s crying crossed his mind, the Mindcore between his fingers gave a Brighter glow that caught his attention. The glow grew to a more brighter and defined color the longer he held it. Even Balan Attention was slightly gathered as he saw the glow out of the corner of his Golden Eyes.. and without much Warning, Lance felt a Pull of his Power Leave him.

Once again, The Energy Beast From before had reconstructed himself and now stood before the two Maestros with a glint in his eyes. Balan instinctively got in front of Rosie and stood in a more defensive position. Lance however wasn’t as defensive, Just slightly disturbed that He Came back without His consent. His eyes Narrowed as he Looked to the giant feline before making his statement.

“ So You’ve returned; Bass was it?”

“ Step Aside Clowns, I’m not here for you.”

Bass retorted, Catching both Maestros off guard with the fact he too could speak. He also didn’t waste much time in giving them no time to respond to him. He reached out his Large Paws and rudely batted them out of his way and crawled under the Tree where Rosie Lay crying, before ever so carefully laying down beside her and protectively wrapping himself around her. A Soft purr escaped from his throat as he nuzzled his face into hers, causing her to look up with surprise.

“ Bass..-!”

“ Shhh.. Calm your fears, For I am here My Master.”

He gently licked her face and kept her close. The sound of his voice alone helped her feel a lot better as her breathing began to slow down and she was ultimately calming down. Amazing what can happen when someone you know just holds you close. Bass’s Ears Perked slightly as he glanced over to the two Maestros just Staring at the two. He couldn’t help but let the edges of his tail spike up as he glared back... he really doesn’t like being around other beings.

“ What.”

“ Oh- We were just surprised to hear you speak and all-”

Balan started to speak when he was cut off by Lance, who was already not feeling this Beasts Attitude towards them. He didn’t care how harsh or rude he sounded at this point, he was just generally ticked off that he was taking liberties with his power without much attempt at getting permission.

“ Your syphoning off my Energy again, you Leech.”

“ Well Master Needed me, and so I settled with using your power to aid her. Besides, if I heard correctly- You wish to know about the situation your now apart of; And I can provide that information. So it’s an Acceptable trade I’d gather.”

Bass stated as his tail lashed from side to side. He could be a lot worse in his words, but decided against it since Lance was technically right. And as much as he hates it, he probably shouldn’t be too cumbersome to the guy allowing him to use his energy to exist atm. It would be annoying to fight with his current host over control anyways.. that wouldn’t be too good for his master.

Lance Raised an Eyebrow to the feline and his unorthodox manners.. but let it slide. This time anyways. Any information would be helpful and he did manage to stop Rosie’s panicking so he’ll give him that. He folded his arms and looked down to the lounging feline with an sharp glare

“ Then Elaborate.”

“ Well do you want the Long boring version or the Nutshell version.”

“-I’d Personally say the Long version to get to the bottom of this- But I don’t believe we have the time.”

Balan interjected before pointing over to a few of the other doors Lining the edges of Tim isle. As they spoke another Door started to slowly become corrupted. Whatever they were up against, it wasn’t wasting any time moving throughout Wonderworld. His brow furrowed as he look to Lance with concern.

“ I’m worried about the inhabitants.”

“ If thats the case, Then i guess I can tell you on the way.”

Bass stood upright and gently picked up Rosie by her Hoodie as he did before. Except this time, he Set her down onto his Back and approached the corrupting Door.

“ What? Your coming with us? Wouldn’t it be safer to stay on Tim isle-”

Balan wasn’t too sure about Bass coming along when it was their problem to handle... whatever it was. Not to mention the thought of Taking Rosie with them. She was already traumatized enough as it is as far as he was concerned.. And what if they come encounter with this ‘Tobais’ Fellow that scares her so? That would be a disaster. He’s supposed to help visitors feel better not make their conditions worse.

Bass scoffed At Balan’s concerns as he looked to him with his green dilated cat eyes, the snarky attitude still apparent.

“ It’d be Safer walking through a Blazing inferno then to Stay Here Alone and in the open. Besides, Cheerful the Clown over there is keeping me powered up.. if he were to leave, I’d go back into my Core state and Master would be even more danger. So where he goes, We Go.”

Balan couldn’t really Argue with Bass’s Logic.. but he did wish he’d wouldn’t be so Rude about it. Guess it would be Safer for them to travel in a group for now. And at least he won’t have to worry about Loosing Rosie again in the Wonderworld if all 3 of them were watching over her.

“....I Suppose your right in sticking to together as there is Safety in numbers.”

“ Well if you two are Quite Done, Let’s get a move on.”

It was apparent Lance wasn’t too thrilled with this arrangement either- But he didn’t have the time or patience to waste arguing with an overgrown house cat.

He walked over to the doorway to dramatically throw the doors open- But they wouldn’t budge. He tried a couple of times to open the door, but it still wouldn’t budge. He was beginning to get frustrated with how everything was apparently against him today; Moreso than usual. He began to aggressively jiggle the handle doors as he became more and more ticked off.

“Why. won’t. it. OPEN-!”

“ I’m draining your power. Duh. You can’t used your magical girl power to open stuff. Let Treeline Tophat get the door.”

Bass rolled his eyes to the struggling Negtai Master before using his tail to shove him to the door.

“ T-Treeline Tophat..?”

Balan Blinked as He felt Bass’s Tail pushed him forward and ontop of Lance’s Back, his Hair tentacles flaring upwards at the touch. The Wonderworld’s Maestro Quickly got off of him as he could practically feel the Daggers of Lance’s Glare pierce through his suit.. ah- sorry.. He Gave an apologetic Smile before using some of his Maestro magic to open the doorway to the next Mindscape.

He heard Lance let out an annoyed huff before entering the gateway first, and then Bass followed soon after with Rosie in tow. Balan was the last to go through as he took another Glance around tim Isle before following after them.

And so the Brave Group went off to face the Next Challenge before them; A world completely submerged in Water.

#{ safety in numbers; balan wonderworld!verse }#{ daydreaming; drabble }#{ i am her soldier; bass }#{ follow your heart; balan }#{ shy but sweet; rosie }#lance #balan #{ through the looking glass; au }#Rosie #Bass #sainu!au #balan wonderworld au #balan wonderworld #balan wonderland #fic #fanfic #(( yay I finished this chapter!! ))#(( Also BASS MY BOI IS HERE ))#(( Sassy Kitty ))

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 4 years

Text

7. Enchanted Love

In the dawn of Wakandan creation, there was a kingdom that stood proud and strong, capable and powerful. The people were beautiful, blessed by the healing waters and the medicinal balms of the land. The king was strong and hailed as the most eligible bachelor as he ruled alone with no queen and no successor.

He was mighty in stature, as stunning as his people and intimidating to behold, broad shouldered and gruff with dark piercing eyes and long thick locs to the end of his coat. His military strategy and physical force was unmatched due to his knowledge of war and the land. Having grown up in a time of war, he was trained as a babe in weaponry and hand to hand combat to battle relentlessly to overtake neighboring kingdoms expanding his influence and making his name one to be known and feared. No kingdom could stand next to his once he decided to take it, he'd run through them all with his army and conquer with barely any casualties as he trained his men rigorously.

Though he was quite fearsome a king, it was said that there never was a king so giving and fair. Even those he overcame with military might had to respect the honorable man that he was. He took in every citizen as his own offering safety and a place to set up a farm, a garden. He protected the widowed and the orphaned. No one in his kingdom lacked for food.

And then the worst happened. A chance visitor appeared in the king's chambers and when he turned over in his Wakandan silk sheets, the face he saw was not a familiar face of one of his consorts. He drew the blade under his pillow swiftly putting it to her neck figuring her a witch sent to destroy him--a shapeshifter. She became enraged. They'd slept together but she had tricked him in an effort to conceive the next heir. Angered, the king moved his blade to the woman's stomach. He drew blood with the intention to do one thing--kill the potential heir. Once he had, the woman's scream caused a guard to enter the room taking the the king's attention and within that second the woman vanished. The king sent his men to find her but she could not be found though he scoured for her.

And then he met Inamore.

Though the dense rainforest, the formation of men treaded slowly and soundlessly, navigating the trails that were mapped by the king himself to account for maximum area coverage. Through thick misty fog they moved taking advantage of the vision barrier.

"King," Huli called getting King Udaku's subtle attention. Huli had been communicating with the the troops up ahead using a silent communication device. "Out in the clearing, they found something--someone. A woman."

"A woman," the king repeated, anger entering his expression for it could have been the witch. They were deep into the forest. "Just one, alone?" It was very odd with all the thieves wandering amongst the deadly wildlife. The king was highly suspicious. "Tell them do not disturb her until I arrive, we're riding that way." With that, he advanced and the troop moved with him toward their target. He moved fast and reaching the end of the meadow, looked upon his tired army to stay sharp with eyes peeled to see through the misty fog. There he saw what his men had informed him of. It was a woman in the meadow but she looked nothing lime the witch. That meant nothing, she could have changed her face. He approached ready to kill but stopped once he realized she was dancing. On closer inspection he watched her motion, her range of movement. She was uninjured. She did not dance like a woman wounded. She wore a long flowing white dress and flowers weaved into her long flowing locs, hers as long as his, and she was stunningly beautiful, even moreso than anyone he'd ever bedded in his kingdom. Stunned to a standstill, he watched her soul through her performance in silent adoration. There had never been anything like it. As the young woman twirled and leaped with unrivaled skill and grace, she told a story that he could feel. He found tears in his eyes.

Carefully with eyes forward, the king took the walk from the mist into visibility as if stepping into the light but alas it was night and the only light came from the stars above. The woman, absorbed in her dance, did not notice his approach and the king edged nearer spellbound. He followed her sweeping steps, predicting them and grabbed her hand and her gentle waist falling in line with her moonlight frolic. She flinched, leaping out of his grasp instantly to spin look into his eyes for she did not know him. He could see that she genuinely did not know of his identity. Had she known, perhaps she would not have run dashing through the trees in a panic.

Seeing the woods as the danger they were, the mighty king pursued on foot, tailing her across large puddles and dirt. He knew the forest like the back of his hand and as she ran blinded through the mist, he projected her path dashing off in the opposite direction to cut her off. It was as she nearly fell from a steep cliff due to looking over her shoulder that he grabbed her, pulling her back to safety. She had almost gone over and was shaken at the fact. That was when the king offered his hand hopefully and seeing the genuine look in his eye, she took it allowing him to guide her back into the meadow, his eyes remaining on her and hers on his with silent communication the entire time. Once there, the unexpected happened. She grabbed his hand and they began to dance as he never had before, spinning and twirling under the moonlight as if nothing else in the world existed.

It was never clear why the queen was in the forest to begin with and she did not speak for she was mute, but when the king brought her back to his kingdom, he released each of his concubines to their jealousy and dismay. The king had one lover and her name was Inamore. As time went by, the kingdom grew to love Inamore for the two were one--inseparable and all could see Inamore's kindness. She baked sweet breads for those in need, visited the sick, and started the tradition of balls where everyone in the kingdom would be invited to the royal home to dance and dine sufficiently.

And then the queen conceived an heir.

It was the talk of the kingdom. The king himself was over the moon with joy throwing daily banquets in celebration. It was at one of these banquets that the witch resurfaced boldly taking a stand before the kingdom guests to bare her scars. The people did not show her mercy, they threw wine at her and jeered siding with the king. Neither was the queen impressed by the witch's story.

Humiliate, the witch placed a curse on the king and his lineage. A curse of eternal bloodlust and unquenchable thirst. She spoke that he would drain his entire kingdom in a swoop and that their blood would be on his hands including the blood of Inamore and his unborn heir-- and then the witch again vanished. His condition became as she said. He was 50 times as strong, 10 times as keen, and 50 times as fast. His looks froze never changing and his eyes turned a brighter red everyday. He fought the thirst as much as he could, locking himself in the dungeon to be guarded but this only made his people mourn for they were loyal and he was the best king they had ever experienced.

"I'm leaving," he finally mustered up the strength to tell his wife. He was incredibly weak and barely able to move having starved himself of blood for months. The animal blood was not sufficient. Inamore could speak no words, but her spirit told him that he would go nowhere without her. A host of his men and loyalists to the kingdom felt the same. They would not abandon him. Together, they constructed a second palace deep withing the forest the king ruled in two places. Within this new kingdom, the king was given free reign.

"Take it," Huli pleaded watching his king deflate with thirst. He offered his wrist begging the king to drink. It took a week before the king caved having never tasted blood but once the first drop hit his tongue--he lost half of his loyal men to his frenzy. When he came to himself it was already too late. He found the limp body of his pregnant wife in his hands. Fortunately, she was not dead. She was able to recover and though she did not blame her husband he blamed himself. He kept his distance. They no longer made love. They no longer danced in moonlight for he couldn't trust himself near her though she trusted him with her life. And then she could no longer bare to be away from him. She forced her way into his presence again and again. When the time came to give birth, he was right there by her trying his hardest to keep his composure around the blood. He couldn't predict that it would be childbirth that claimed her life. He had been so afraid of himself he hadn't considered it, but there she was--lifeless.

His people tried to console him but it was fruitless, he could not be consoled not even for the sake of his newborn child. He tried every method he could think of to die failing until method number nine--decapitation.

His death was mourned throughout the land as a great loss and in death his memory was preserved along with the tragic story of his love.

@goddessofthundathighs @thadelightfulone @mszrenee @woahitslucyylu @badgalbrix1 @supersizemeplz @idont-know-shit @ladymac82 @xsweetdellzx @msreshel

#original #erik killmonger #erik stevens #killmonger #erik killmonger fanfiction #sanctuary

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frogdeanna · 3 years

Text

nobody look under this cut i’m Embarrassed

SHE HAD BEEN FIFTEEN, THE FIRST TIME YOU’D MET HER. a little bit stern, a little bit angry, a little bit anxious- you’d opened your mind to the vulcan and seen not the controlled wall most of her kind build, but a confusing and contorted array of emotions tied up like cords and wires. on the surface, however, she looked just as unaffected as any other vulcan you’d met, which very much peaked your curiosity; though not in a bad way, of course. she was a child, not a case study, and even if she could have been, all the answers as to why she seemed the way she was could be answered with a single question- WHO IS HER FATHER?

CAPTAIN JEAN-LUC PICARD HAD RESCUED A FEW OF HER PEOPLE ON A COLONY WITH THE STARGAZER. he hadn’t told you all too much of that time, but you knew it was the same year he’d lost his friend; beverly, her husband, wesley, his father. and so you don’t ask many more questions than that- you know better than to press the captain too far on such issues, and you’ll only take that risk when you are sure the needs of a particular mission require you to. meeting t’beck was not one of these times, however, and his influence was barely needed to be analyzed outside the fact that being raised by a man like picard would most definitely grow you into a particular mold.

AND IT’S A MOLD SHE HAS ALWAYS SEEMED TO TAKE PRIDE IN; it makes you happy to see her take on his name so fiercely, and for him to be as proud as he is of her. she’s smart, she’s capable, every inch a picard by choice and work if not by blood. it just happens to have some unfortunate side effects of her having never fully learned how to follow surak’s code to control her emotions, as a result of her formative years being with a human father. that’s not to say jean-luc has been or ever will be so emotional, but undoubtedly he’s much more so than a standard vulcan; his composed nature might suit well for t’beck to learn from in that regard, but the extent of surak’s teachings will never fully envelop her as they would have with her birth parents. you do think, however, the longer you know her, that this might be a good thing.

THE FIRST TIME SHE SITS WITH YOU IN YOUR OFFICE, SHE IS SIXTEEN. she does not want to be here, and you are fully aware of it- though it’s no dislike towards you, the two of you have a rather good relationship, including a particular instance the both of you have been hiding from the captain as you’d forgotten how chocolate can intoxicate vulcans as alcohol does for humans. no, it is simply the act of expressing how she feels that is impossible, or perhaps not worth the effort. you can feel it bubbling under the surface; this sort of odd camouflaged pattern of so many complex and particular emotions that bleed into each other so viciously that they become a wall you cannot untangle, and a pity wells up inside you. if you cannot decipher what she is feeling, how could she possibly know? she speaks, if not loosely, about things that you can tell she is attempting to deflect for the most part- the loss of her birth parents, the fear of her father being in danger, the loneliness of the ship (AND HOW THANKFULLY IT IS SOMEWHAT RELIEVED BY THE PRESENCE OF WESLEY CRUSHER, WHICH YOU’RE VERY GLAD TO HEAR, AND YOU TELL HER AS MUCH). but you sense that this mandatory meeting, a protocol to ensure the stability of all on the enterprise, is not going to go far. so instead, you thank her for her honesty, and recommend a few books to read that might help- all philosophy, things you know she loves, and you hope she can see herself in some of these age-old questions and begin to untangle these wires. because once she does, you’ll be able to get your hands in there, too.

THE SECOND NOTABLE TIME IS WHEN SHE IS EIGHTEEN. granted, it’s not your office; you’re on earth for shore leave, technically, though the majority of it is spent giving statements to starfleet upper officers about your encounter with the borg and ensuring jean-luc is... stable, as much as he can be. you’d warned her briefly of the events that had occurred to bring them home earlier than scheduled, and you almost winced at the way her fear spiked through her chest and through the screen as she hardened, completely into stone. you’d watched their reunion; her being very careful not to mention any of it, very assured in the way her eyes trained themselves away from the last remaining pieces of borg hardware still attached to his face. him, with a firm grip on her hand, returned by his daughter almost tenfold. they talked about her schooling, how well she was doing at the academy, how speaking to commander worf had inspired her to declare a major in xenoanthropology and how she hoped it would make everyone- picard especially- proud. she talked more than you’d ever heard her speak before in her life, just to fill the space, to keep his mind away from what he’d been through. after he tires, though, she does something odd- she comes to you, and asks if the two of you can talk, with a seriousness that informs you that you’re needed not just as a friend, but as a professional.

IT’S THE FIRST TIME YOU’D EVER SEEN THIS YOUNG WOMAN CRY. you’d felt sadness in her before, of course, but never like this, and never so visual (THE MOST AN AVERAGE PERSON CAN GET OUT OF HER IS A SARDONIC HALF-SMILE, AS TEENAGERS ARE OFT TO DO); so the image startles you of out your skin. immediately, you are beside her on the couch where she’d chosen to sit, away from your chair as to create a physical distance to make the emotional vulnerability more... palatable. but you can’t stop yourself from appearing at her side, so quickly it makes you dizzy, and holding her close to your chest. she doesn’t fight it, either, just lets you hold her close and feel as the threads of her empathic aura all coat themselves in a deep fear and sadness. it’s the most cohesive her emotional state has ever been, really; the first time it’s truly made full and truthful sense to you, from top to bottom, but it hurts you just the same. a few of your own tears bleed out, but you shut your eyes and control yourself, knowing just how hard it is (YOU THINK OF YOUR OWN FATHER, BRIEFLY, AND ARE THANKFUL SHE ONLY HAS TO EXPERIENCE THE NEAR-MISS).

“what if they’d taken him for good and i never fuckin’ knew?” she gets out past a wall of gasping, strangled breath, and you just squeeze her tighter. this would have been a possibility- it was only through the help of q that the enterprise had made it out alive, after all, and there would have been no way to inform her of any of it. but it doesn’t matter, truly, because he had survived, the ship is home and safe, the worst case scenario did not occur.

“but they did not. he’s home safe, and he will be okay, after some help through it. help from everyone, including you.” it’s not to put pressure on her that you say this, but to remind her of how important she is to him. it’s to remind her that her presence is desperately needed, in a way that cannot be replaced, and that she is loved as much as she loves him. it works- because you know how she functions, knowing her closely for two years, and she relaxes into you a little bit more. there’s always an odd stiffness to her, paired with a lounging slack posture, but it’s dissolved somewhat as the exhaustion of such a strong emotional response pulls through her, the form of her body not used to such depletion of energy.

“i don’t know what i’d do without him.” her voice is quiet, almost ashamed, and it makes you sad for her, in a way. your hand comes to her hair and your fingers run through it, comfortingly, carefully. her fierce independence is a strength at times, but such shame in depending on another person- her father, no less- can take its toll on anyone, no matter how tough they have become.

“oh, sweetheart. he’ll be here for you like you are for him. you know how strong he is, nothing will take him away without a hell of a fight- from all of us.”

THE THIRD TIME SHE’S SO OPEN IN FRONT OF YOU IS AFTER A VERY DIFFICULT PHONE CALL WHEN SHE IS TWENTY. granted, you were not expecting this turn of events either, but the delicate social ecosystem of the enterprise can thank one wesley crusher for disturbing its peace, if what you’ve been told is accurate. some time ago, you would have questioned its legitimacy much more than you are now- lore is, after all, fond of deception. or at least he was, moreso than he is with you nowadays with all the headway you’ve made (TO THE POINT WHERE YOU EMPHATICALLY SIGNED OFF ON ALLOWING HIM TO ATTEND THE ACADEMY), and so you trust the story as much as you can. after frying his circuits once done with killing his father, he’d been taken aboard- for rehabilitation, if possible, and it seemed very much as though it could be. you had been assigned to help him, and with a sympathy you didn’t think you’d been able to extend towards the android, became fiercely determined to help him get on some stable ground. starfleet had, somewhat understandably, given the enterprise an ultimatum- send lore through the academy as data did, to ensure he could be trusted and controlled, or send him to be deactivated. with a fear in his eyes you believed fully genuine, lore determined he’d do whatever it took to not be taken apart again; and you stood at his back, assuring jean-luc that there would be no great risk, that it would be the right choice.

YOU’D BEEN VAGUELY AWARE OF THE FACT THAT T’BECK HAD BEEN INTERESTED IN SOMEONE; but you hadn’t followed up on it, knowing that any prodding would simply cause her to shut down and never speak of it again. and lore, of course, wouldn’t go a single session without mentioning a mysterious young woman in his classes that he’d locked his eyes on; a humorous series, honestly, and something you’d been very happy to hear from him. you had never expected the two to have been connected at all; and when lore had called you that evening to inform you of the fact that wesley had let it slip that t’beck’s father had been the man to sign off on his admittance to starfleet academy, of course you’d had to tell picard.

PERHAPS YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE, BUT YOU KNOW HOW HE IS. he’s an anxious father, and it would be unwise of you to keep this from him, especially if further down the line he were to discover you’d known and never told him. you’re unsure if this falls under patient-physician privilege, but it wasn’t necessarily a planned session, and you do have some very slight concerns for her safety (NOT REALLY, BUT YOU’LL USE IT TO JUSTIFY YOUR ACTIONS); so you request entry to picard’s ready room with some of the strangest not-bad-yet-not-great news you’ve ever had to deliver, and hold your breath.

HOURS LATER, IT’S YOUR TURN TO SPEAK TO T’BECK. she’s not crying now, but it looks like she has been, and you’re not sure if she will again. it snaps you into seriousness- your hands folded over your lap, a comforting greeting, an open door for her to enter into. she lets out a dep breath and rolls her shoulders back, ruminating on what to say, and you feel her aura as a mix of anxious sadness and relief (HOPEFULLY, THIS MEANS THE CONVERSATION WITH HER FATHER WAS NOT SO PAINFUL AS YOU WERE AFRAID IT MIGHT BE).

“i didn’t tell lore i was, uh, the captain’s daughter,” she punctuates it with air quotes and a defensively sarcastic tone. “because i thought he’d stop comin’ after me if he knew.” and it’s a valid concern she has, even if you’re sure it’s nothing she has to worry about now. “and i didn’t tell dad ‘cause if he knew who the guy was, he’d never let me pursue it.” again, another valid concern, but she’s an adult now- at 20 years old, she doesn’t need his permission to proceed with this relationship, but you’re also completely aware of how desperately she needs her father’s approval and pride, to live up to his name. you understand the pressure of a family- fifth house of betazed, a mother who will never let you forget it. but you learn to live with and without it, alongside the expectations without bending completely to their crushing guidelines.

“dad’s okay with it, i guess. as much as he can be,” a half laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear, trying to be as casual as she can about everything. “told me to tell him if lore gets out of line, or anything. i said i would, but...” she trails off with an odd tone to her voice- it’s interesting, to see how she is already so protective of him. it’s very good to see, actually; although you would rather her not lie to her father about something like that, it shows growth in lore, to know that t’beck would defy her father of all people for him. it means he’s taken on some of your advice, that he’s done the work to make himself the person he’s been aiming towards- and so you can’t help but smile at that.

“well, what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.” and that gets a laugh out of her, using the phrase you’d always pulled out when talking about the old chocolate incident of 2364. “but it can hurt you. so please- if anything does happen, you know you can talk to me?” and she nods, with no hints of deception, so you’re satisfied.

“so. this guy you’ve been telling me all about? the charming aggressor in philosophy?” you question, a knowing smile on your lips- you’re frankly shocked that it’s lore, in a way, but that’s likely because you’d never seen him placed in such a light before. he’d been a dangerous criminal, and then a troubled patient, and now a growing member of starfleet you’re proud to be helping on his journey. but you’d never thought of him as capable of becoming the sort of person t’beck describes him as, and you’re pleasantly surprised. she turns mint green and averts her eyes from the screen, but you feel her aura shift so aggressively in a moment, like a snap windstorm- suddenly all that anxiety has been replaced with the warm comfort of love, real love, raw and genuine, like you feel when will looks at you or data. and it catches you by surprise, really- you’d never had your mind this open while she’s spoken about the mystery man before, and so you’d never felt the extent of her feelings towards him.

“you felt that this time, didn’t you?” she levels her accusation at you, trying to hide embarrassment with a hint of aggression, but your smile stays soft.

“yes, i did. and it felt nice.”

SHE COMES TO YOU MANY MORE TIMES AFTER THAT. some more important than others, but they happen all the same. soon, she’s on the enterprise with you, and her father, and lore, and it’s impossible not to see how much she’s grown, even in just 5 years. it is now that you open your mind to her again, into that rat’s nest of cables and cords, emotions that can barely be identified, not a one of them able to be separated from the rest- and you’re so very pleased with what you find.

IT’S STILL A MESS, OF COURSE, BUT YOU THINK IT ALWAYS WILL BE. they’re knotted and braided, tied and twisted, but less aggressively, more loosely, interconnected without pulling them apart. less of them are scared; there are still so, so many threads of fear in her, a core full of anxiety, but they lessen as her aura grows outwards, and instead is filled with a muted and quiet happiness; a contentment, a pride, that she hadn’t had when you’d first met her. there’s still a long ways to go, as there always is- life is a journey, and hers is just beginning, but she’s already getting there. you smile at her, and she gives you a look of confusion back, laced with a bit of humour. you don’t explain yourself to her. you simply look at her hand in lore’s, and the small nod she gives her father whenever they make eye contact, and you feel a little more at peace.

IT URGES YOU TO TAKE THE HANDS OF THE MEN YOU LOVE, TOO. it always makes you happy to see such happiness in others. they give you a bit of a look too (WILL MORE THAN DATA), but you don’t answer them either.

#here's the full drabble #it's so fucking cringe bc it outs BOTH of my mary sue dynamics #but i'm proud of it so i'll keep it here #don't LOOK i'm EMBARASSED its FINE #my little vulcan idiot i dont follow the rules

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benito-cereno · 7 years

Text

A story for All Saints’ Day

I technically made it! In some time zones!

Anyway, some people told me on Twitter they might be interested in reading some original prose fiction from me. Welp, I hope you weren’t lying!

Here is a story I originally wrote as a comic script (that you may have heard me talk about) that I have adapted into a short story. This is only part one! I will be posting additional parts in the days to come, as this story is an appropriate one for these liminal days between the Halloween and Christmas seasons.

Please read and share! Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call my story

The Further Adventures of Santa Claus, chapter 1: The Saint Comes to Wallachia (part one)

“I've never been so bored and excited at the same time in my entire life,” the child said. Her nose was pressed against the frosty window pane, where her breath created a ghostly fog on the glass. It was only late afternoon, but the darkness stretched out its inky fingers pretty early in these days around the solstice, giving the child a sense that it was much later than it actually was.

“Hmm?” The child’s tutor cocked up an eyebrow, not even looking up from the stack of papers he was correcting. The child’s facility for boredom extended such that she was sufficiently behind on schoolwork that her tutor had to come out deep into what would normally be a winter break for both of them.

The child turned from the window, wiping the condensation of her own breath off the tip of her nose. “Well, you know. I'm really excited that it's Christmas Eve and everything, but I don't have anything to do to kill time until it gets here!” She slumped down into a chair, but rather than stopping at chair’s edge such as a person intent on sitting comfortably might do, she let her forward momentum cause her to continue sliding past the edge of her seat and onto the floor until she pooled there languidly, as if the sheer presence of boredom had leeched all the calcium from her bones and only a puddle of girl remained. “I wish I could watch TV. The new Shelfy Elf Christmas special is coming on tonight!”

“First of all,” the tutor said, finally looking up from the pile of risibly incorrect math assignments and glowering somewhat over the rims of his glasses, “I would rather watch a YouTube video from the future inerrantly predicting my own death than Shelfy Elf. But more importantly, you know you’re not allowed to watch TV until we finish getting through all this schoolwork.” He smirked a little, noticing the child had stopped listening somewhere mid-sentence, instead staring at the ceiling and blowing bubbles with her own spit. “I hope you asked Santa for even one ounce of attention span for Christmas.”

The spit bubble popped silently. “What?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just sit still until I get through these papers. The more you squirm and the more you change the subject, the longer this takes.” The tutor turned back to the paper and briskly circled a series of unreduced fractions. Something like a shadow seemed to cross his brow and he paused, pen mid-stroke. “Although…”

“What? What? Can we stop? Can I watch Shelfy Elf?” the child asked, almost too expectantly.

“Not in a million years. But! Maybe there’s something that might provide you with a brief entertainment and also technically fall under the auspices of your cultural and historical education.”

“You had me at ‘entertainment’ and lost me at ‘education’,” the child said, resuming a slumped position in the chair. “I’d rather watch you circle fractions than hear a history story. No offense, but history is for dumb people who are boring, like you.”

“Cool, cool. Cool cool cool,” the tutor deflected. “What if this story was a ghost story?”

The child’s curiosity was mildly piqued; her suspicion somewhat moreso. “Why would you tell a ghost story on Christmas Eve?”

The tutor set down his pen and closed the math book, himself palpably relieved at the change of subject. “Telling ghost stories used to be a common occurrence at Christmas. The Christmas season is cold and dark, scary and dangerous. If you think about it, caroling is a lot like trick or treating, and it used to be even closer than it is now.” He took off his glasses and wiped them with the cuff of his sweater sleeve. “Plus, you know, just like they say in that song: ‘there’ll be scary ghost stories and tales of old glories of Christmases long, long ago’? Right?”

The look on the child’s face was blanker than the answer spaces after the extra credit questions on her vocabulary quiz. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The tutor smiled resignedly at this common refrain that he had heard many times in his years working with the child. “Don’t worry about it.” He replaced his glasses on his face and rubbed his chin. “I tell you what. I’ll make sure the story is appropriate for Christmas, what do you say?”

“With Santa in it?”

“Sure, of course.”

The child pressed her luck. “With Shelfy Elf in it?”

The tutor patted the child on the head. “I would sooner die. Now sit back. I know just the story.”

And here is the story he told:

Many people know that Santa Claus' true name is St. Nicholas, but most don't know anything more than that. St. Nicholas was a bishop from the town of Myra, in the province of Lycia in Asia Minor, or modern day Turkey. He lived during the late third century CE through the early fourth century CE, a time when Hellenistic culture was very strong in his region.

Since he is venerated today as the saint of sailors, some people posit that Nicholas worked as a boatman himself, though it is more likely that his parents were very affluent and owned the fishing fleet rather than worked for it. It is said that, on a trip back to Myra from studying in Alexandria, Nicholas saved the life of a young sailor in a storm. When the pair arrived back in Myra, Nicholas took the man to the local church, where the bishop had just died, and the church elders were seeking a replacement.

As Nicholas prayed, the sailor overheard the men saying that God had instructed them in a dream to find a “man of victory.” As it happens, the name Nicholas is derived from the Greek words “nike,” meaning “victory,” and “laos,” meaning “people,” meaning that Nicholas would bring the people to a great victory over evil. The sailor did not hesitate to tell the church fathers how his life was bravely saved by the actions of one “Nike-laos,” and Nicholas was promptly made bishop of Myra.

In his time as bishop, Nicholas became known for his great and anonymous generosity, often perpetrated under the cover of night, as well as a large number of miracles. But given the state of the world at that time, perhaps Nicholas' greatest miracle was dying of old age, peacefully in his own bed, on December 6, 343 CE. His body was laid at his church in Myra, which became a popular center for pilgrimage. His tomb was said to secrete manna, a holy liquid with potent healing abilities, making the shrine all the more desirable.

In the year 1087, sailors from Bari in Italy took advantage of the confusion arising from a recent raid by the Turkish Seljuks to get the monks from Nicholas' shrine to show them the relics and body of the saint. The sailors opened the tomb and returned with the saint's remains back to Bari, where a new church was built, and where Nicholas' bones lie to this day.

Or so most people think. While the details of what happened following the translation of the saint’s relics are unclear, the facts are these: the tomb continued and continues to this day to produce manna, that pure liquid with powerful healing properties, and soon after the disturbance of the tomb and its resettling in Italy in 1087, children began seeing Saint Nicholas roaming the world each year on the anniversary of his death, leaving candy, nuts, fruits, and toys in their shoes. Whether these two facts are connected is up to you to decide.

At any rate, it was under these circumstances that the saint found himself traveling through the snow-shrouded woods of Eastern Europe one December 5 in the 15th century. As he had done in his former life, he traveled under cover of darkness astride his mighty white steed to give gifts to his favorite people in the world, children. By this time, he had acquired a helper: a woodland god forced into obsolescence by the advent of Christianity to his old Northern home, and tamed by the miraculous power of Nicholas himself. The great, wild god. The Krampus.

And so it was that the unlikely pair found themselves this Saint Nicholas Eve in the voivodeship of Wallachia. As Nicholas’s horse crunched softly through the crust of the untouched snow with each step, the Krampus sniffed the air with suspicion and snorted a substantial cloud of steam into the cuttingly cold night. The saint looked around him to see what his bestial companion had noticed that his human--though saintly--eyes had failed to notice. As the brisk winter wind blew the black velveteen clouds away from the frame of the moon, the milky white light was given purchase on what the saint had previously believed to be the trees of the Wallachian forest.

Instead what he found was a forest of rotting bodies impaled upon tall spikes planted throughout the forest. Though the bodies had largely by this point become food for crows, nevertheless the small size of many of them made clear that whoever had committed such a deed had few scruples about whom he wanted to make an example of.

Saint Nicholas turned his head in both sadness and disgust. “I must say, Krampus,” he said in resignation, “I don’t think we’ll find many good children in this country.” The Krampus snorted in agreement.

The pair soon emerged from the woods and across the snowy plain their eyes landed upon a wondrously princely court, complete with an imposing tower lording over the surrounding area. The saint also noticed a somewhat ostentation cathedral within the walls of the court as well, though he wondered how much use it truly received. The silhouette of this stark, gothic fortress cut a somewhat frightening figure upon the night sky, but a bright orange glow from the windows and a bounty of smoke pouring out of the palace hall suggested perhaps it was somewhat cheerier on the inside.

“However,” Saint Nicholas remarked dryly, “it looks as if this humble dwelling has left the light on for us.”

(more soon)

#christmas #halloween #santa claus #dracula #santa vs dracula #saint nicholas #krampus #my writing #not comics

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hexalt · 7 years

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all the odd numbers for the ask thing :3c

Zevran

1. How did your Warden react to Zevran’s failed attempt on their life? Were they amused? Angry?

she was severely annoyed. she’s the one coming after loghain, he’s not supposed to try her.3. What did your Warden know of the Crows before meeting Zevran? What did they think of the Crows afterward?

she had read about the crows, but she had never had any sort of experience with them before him. she knew they were supposed to be good, the best, and she definitely didn’t want to have any assassins coming after her. once she got stronger and more skilled, though, she wasn’t too worried about anyone trying to kill her, just annoyed. immediately after zevran’s attack she thought the crows must not be as good as she had been lead to believe, but once zev told her the story of his last love, she understood the failure had been purposeful and not attributable to the crows.5. How well did your Warden keep in contact with Zevran after the Blight? Did they ever see him again?

very well. they had grown to be great friends and even though they were often busy doing their own things, they still found the time to write each other letters, and sometimes zev would come back to help her.

Alistair

1. What sort of attachment did your Warden form with Alistair, if any at all? Were they close due to their shared experiences as Grey Wardens?

if any… they initially grew close because he was the only one who could explain to her the new things happening to her after her joining. they ended up getting married, and she was the first elf and mage queen in ferelden because she was not going to let anyone stop her from being with him.

3. Was Alistair reunited with his sister, Goldanna? What did your Warden think of her? Did they relate to Alistair with their own familial struggles?

he was. she felt bad for her, struggling so much, and gave her money to help. surana did not remember much of her family as she had been taken from them so young, so she understood wanting to reunite with long-lost family.5. What became of Alistair after the Landsmeet? How did your Warden feel about their decision of Alistair’s future?

he became king. she felt no one would be better than him to rule and was pleased with the outcome, as alistair grew into his own once he became king.

Wynne

1. What did your Warden think of Wynne’s views on the Circle? Did they have different experiences regarding the Circle?

already answered~3. How did your Warden feel about the Spirit of Faith within Wynne? Did they see it as possession?

no, she was happy wynne was alive and if that was what was helping her, she was perfectly fine with it. she knew if wynne ever became corrupted she would have to slay her, but wynne was still herself. she knew that spirits could inhabit someone in a non-harmful way sometimes.5. What did Wynne choose to do after the Blight was ended? Did your Warden stay in touch with her?

wynne was sometimes difficult to stay in contact with, and surana often worried for her health. she left with shale to tevinter to see about getting shale back to their mortal form. surana was happy, though, when she ran into wynne in amaranthine.

Leliana

1. What was your Warden’s position on the Chantry? Were they wary of Leliana due to their religious beliefs or lack thereof?

she was often confused by the chantry and did not follow their beliefs, despite being raised in the circle, but as an elf she felt disconnected from the institution. she was wary of leliana at first, but once she grew to know her that went away. she always accepted leliana’s beliefs and her vision, what surana worried about was how she’d act because of these beliefs.3. If your Warden received Leliana’s personal quest, what did they choose to do with Marjolaine and why?

already answered~5. How well did your Warden get along with Leliana? What was their relationship like?

they had a brief fling, jus being flirtatious with each other, but they grew very close as leliana loved to tell surana stories. they often kept watch together as the others slept. it took a while for leliana to get back to normal with surana because her feelings had grown so strong for surana, but eventually they did, and they remained quite close.

Sten

1. Had your Warden ever met a Qunari before Sten? What did they expect?

no, she had lived a very sheltered life in the circle. she had never given the qunari much thought, but he was still much more serious than she had expected. it took her an incredibly long time to get him to warm up to her, despite all her best efforts.3. Did your Warden retrieve Sten’s sword? Did your Warden’s choice to give it to him or withhold it affect their relationship with Sten at all?

yes, we found it and he really respected her after that. he knew she’d always have his back and that he could trust her.5. Was your Warden amused by Sten’s love of cookies?

yes, she tried to keep giving him different sweets, but in the end cookies always reigned supreme.

Oghren

1. What did your Warden think of Orzammer? Were they impressed or did they become disillusioned with the city, like Oghren did?

she was impressed by it, at first, but all the bureaucracy, lack of agency, and classism disturbed her deeply. the architecture and long history intrigued her, as well as learning of the dwarves deep connection to the stone, and in turn, lyrium.

3. What was the fate of Branka? If she was killed, was your Warden regretful? How did they act around Oghren afterwards?

she was killed. she regretted it only for how it may affect oghren, but branka had gone too far and there was no turning back. she was willing to sacrifice anyone to further her own cause, and once she discovered that, she knew the woman couldn’t come back. she was understanding of oghren’s grief but explained why she had to do it, and he understood.5. Did your Warden stay on good terms with Oghren after the Blight? If Oghren got back together with Felsi, did your Warden ever go to meet Oghren’s child, who was named after the Warden?

yes, they were grey wardens together after all. she found him to be a thorn in her side but one she had grown accustomed to. he didn’t get back with felsi.

Morrigan

1. What was your Warden’s first impression of Morrigan? Did they trust her or were they cautious around her?

already answered~3. How close was your Warden to Morrigan? Did your Warden respect her abilities as a witch of the wilds?

very close. morrigan taught her how to shapeshift, told surana about her childhood, and she helped morrigan come to terms with the abuse she had suffered at her mother’s hands. when she left that final time, she desperately wanted to follow her through the eluvian.5. Was Morrigan’s ritual completed? What persuaded your Warden to go through with it or what caused them to refuse it?

yes, with alistair. when surana discovered that the only way to kill an archdemon was to be sacrificed yourself, she immediately started thinking of any possible way to avoid this fate. she couldn’t die, nor could alistair. when morrigan gave her the option, she seized it immediately. there was no way she was going to die or let her love die.

Loghain

1. Did your Warden respect Loghain’s experience as a warrior, if not as a ruler?

my warden spits on loghain.3. What did your Warden think of Loghain’s suspicion and dislike of Orlesians? Did they consider it to be ill-founded or accurate?

she did not know much of orlesians, her only experience at the time being with leliana who she found to be lovely. leliana told her many stories of orlais, of being a bard, and of playing the game. everything sounded too fake for her liking, surana preferred to know who she’s dealing with rather than going about it in roundabout ways.5. Did Loghain survive the Landsmeet? If he did, why did your Warden choose to let him live?

he did not. she spits on him.

Shale

1. Was your Warden interested in golems upon meeting Shale? Did they think of golems as weapons or sentient beings?

she found shale to be fascinating but moreso for their personality rather than being a golem. shale was a sentient being, of course. she would never dehumanize (choice of words…) anyone, she being an elf herself. she found their forced servitude abhorrent.3. Did your Warden aid Branka or Caridin? Did their choice affect their relationship with Shale?

caridin. shale was surprised that she helped them since they thought of “alive” beings as only wishing to inflict torture on them or using them for their own gains. they appreciated her after that, and surana was the only one they didn’t refer to as “it” anymore.5. What did your Warden make of Shale’s “bird issues”?

she found them understandable but quite funny. she wouldn’t bring it up herself, but when alistair or zevran would discuss it with shale, her ears would be at full attention for those conversations…

Dog

1. Who’s a good boy?!

BARKSPAWN IS!!!

#dragon age #da:o #vg #lyriumlesbian #asks #rinaya surana #╰( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )つ──☆*:・ﾟ

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kansascityhappenings · 6 years

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Prosecutor sheds light on Ray County couple’s alleged abuse of 9-year-old; questions still remain

RAY COUNTY, Mo. — The Ray County prosecutor shed more light for FOX 4 on a couple’s gruesome alleged abuse of a 9-year-old girl, but there are still several unanswered questions.

Police said a 9-year-old girl was abused by her uncle, who is also her legal guardian. Almost all of the abuse, the county prosecutor says, was done with the handle of an ax.

Camille Johnston, the Ray County prosecutor, sat down with FOX 4’s Rebecca Gannon on Tuesday to discuss the case.

“She has, I think, survived a lot of abuse in the past three years,” Johnston said, “and maybe even her life.”

Johnston said the 9-year-old endured unimaginable abuse from Mario Barreto.

The Ray County prosecutor said the child had huge indentations on her muscles and bones, not to mention numerous broken bones in various stages of healing. For example, Johnston said the 9-year-old has eight broken ribs in various states of healing, as well as a healing broken left arm.

Mario Barreto and Melissa Holloway

Barreto, 29, has been charged with 29 counts of abuse and neglect of a child in Ray County. His live-in girlfriend Melissa Holloway is also charged with more than 20 crimes because, Johnston said, the woman did nothing to help the young girl.

Barreto and Holloway were arraigned Tuesday in Richmond. The pair are charged with more than 50 counts of child abuse and neglect.

It should be noted there are three women named Melissa Holloway in Ray County, including one who is the current county treasurer. The woman in accused in this case is not the county treasurer.

“What happen to her actual body from the abuse is very disturbing,” Johnston said. “I couldn’t even imagine it myself until I saw (pictures of) it.”

Investigators said it all happened at Barreto’s home between Camden and Henrietta on Highway T. The home has children’s toys in the yard. The prosecutor told FOX 4 two other children, Holloway’s biological children, also lived there, but they weren’t abused, as far as Johnston knows.

Ironically, it was the girl’s most recent injury — when investigators say Barreto crushed the girl’s fingers with an ax handle — that finally brought her to the hospital and help.

“But the last injury that occurred was to her hand,” Johnston said, “and it was very visible and very destructive. I think that is how she got saved.”

Health care workers are mandatory reporters of suspected abuse. Johnston said that is what began to uncover the abuse.

Three of her fingers were smashed, according to court documents. One, Johnston said, will have to be amputated.

“The abuse that she suffered for the entire time that she was with her uncle was very severe. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that,” Johnston said.

Moreso, it has people talking.

“A lot of people do know about it,” Johnston said. “I even know some people saying their kids are talking about it at school.”

“It makes people realize that these things are happening,” she added, “and that people need to tell. And people are aware of it and they are concerned.”

The girl, who Johnston described as “a strong little girl,” is in foster care outside of Ray County now.

Court documents show the girl’s biological father died and Barreto became the girl’s guardian roughly three years ago. Johnston believes the girl’s mother abandoned her.

However, there are still a lot of questions out there.

In court documents, the child told officials Holloway was a mandatory reporter. FOX 4 couldn’t confirm Holloway was employed at all, let alone in a child care, health care or law enforcement capacity.

FOX 4 also reached out to the Missouri Department of Family Services to ask if anyone had ever reported abuse. As of Tuesday evening, FOX 4 hasn’t heard back.

Many have asked how a teacher or someone at school didn’t notice the abuse.

“I think the reason no one told us is because no one saw this, because it’s hard to tell, because its covered up with clothes,” Johnston said.

FOX 4 reached out to the Richmond School District superintendent, but he didn’t return our call.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports http://fox4kc.com/2018/03/13/prosecutor-sheds-light-on-ray-county-couples-alleged-abuse-of-9-year-old-questions-still-remain/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2018/03/13/prosecutor-sheds-light-on-ray-county-couples-alleged-abuse-of-9-year-old-questions-still-remain/

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urbanfriendden · 7 years

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Minoes makes the most of it

The first denial the young prince had ever received was, “Don’t open the door to the dungeons”. So unsurprisingly, the first thing the prince did when opportunity presented itself, the universe’s way of saying ‘teehee’, was to insert and turn a key. But to do so, the pampered royal rascal had to elude his caretaker’s ever-watchful gaze, a retired military scout once known as The Cat in part due to her sharp senses, and even now she retains that title, but only because she enjoys taking catnaps in her rocking chair.

Children will cause trouble without ever understanding why, the prince was told no, after all, and that is enough for most to seek out the forbidden. Curiosity, however, this drive shaped like a key, is superstition’s pendant, a force which pries open mountains and poisons goblets just to see what happens, and what happened was that the young prince opened the door and was never seen ever again.

We can say he shouldn’t have done this, but this is a hindsight, a wisdom that catches up too late, a friend tapping on your shoulder to warn you about the paint bucket on a wobbly ladder one unfortunate dye-job too late. Simply put, to forward ourselves, we must accept that he is no longer needed, but his actions stand at the precipice of events we could never prevent, motion creates motion, and loathe as we are to admit but quick to realise, nothing is without consequence.

For it was the caretaker who took the blame for this child’s derelict behaviour and for the nastiness which ensued, but we won’t blame her, not an inch or iota or other quantification one might use for culpability, as it is fear together with the mechanism of the unknown which becomes a justice that demands a scapegoat, never a justice to begin with. She was locked in the darkest dungeons for this, for the crime of being herself a circumstance and a subject.

But what is a subject without a name, no one should ever be just a referential! The name she is with is Minoes, and her cell is quite alright. She was branded a witch, a demoness, an arcanist, conspirator with the dark, she is rather fond of that title, agent of the Brim Dividing; these nominations have their benefits, because no one with a soupçon of superstitious sense will ever think to disturb her. Or execute her, for that matter. Death, who welcomes all strangers, but who is always personal, we are never true strangers to them, should never be made to host a true stranger in their halls. Minoes is exempted from even this.

There is another boon to this ordeal: this dungeon is the biggest home she’s ever owned, wooden walls became stone, metal partitions to give her rooms, plural. Middle-left will be my gallery, she thinks, Bottom-right has the most hay so that is where I will sleep, upper-right can be my own little dining hall. There is nothing we could consider furniture but this is where the theory of forms picks up. The far exit of the dungeon remains locked, separated from the castle proper with a thick wooden door, wrapped in chains and padlocks plus a sliding grate for the convenience of eye-contact, to deign dignity and courtesy for a context where there is none. Nevertheless, Minoes makes the most of things.

Before you ask, no, she does not have a surname, an inheritance common to her bloodline, which makes birth a spectacular event: parents, uncles, aunts, nephews, and cousins, even friends are invited to deeply consider together what special name to give to the new-born. Beer is brewed and herbs are smoked, it must be exemplary and magnificent, suggests tipsy cousin Wilhelmina, recognisable and grand, yells the undulate uncle Armand. Then father Swit interjects, it must fit her and only her, there is no blood to make her special, only one word, let her decide it when she is old enough. Minoes picked this name five years ago.

Most days, Minoes simply eats bread upper-right. On the scratched metal tray they slide through the viewport is fresh bread and a relatively generous jar of pickles, but you see, she cannot open the jar, she has no strength in her hands, sometimes she curses these vestigial things, but what she lacks in physical strength can be found in her resolve, patience, and respiration. She makes due with just the bread, she calls her meals a latecomer’s banquet. The jailor knows about her condition, yet spares her no cruelty, morality is an objection saved for humans, so he chooses to see a monster.

A monster that came from the dungeons, of course. It hid the entrance to the Brim Dividing, a dark dimension where demons roam, if the old and corny legends are to be believed, and they are by many, perhaps that is why a simple door could for the longest time stave off this invisible threat, one needs only peer inside to let our worst nightmares out, yet it is the door that keeps us up at night.

But as it stands, no terrible demon army or rain of fire has come pouring through the portal, desecrating our symbols, burning our farms and fortunes, committing the massacres which are clearly a fantasy, in both senses of the term, that which is unreal and that which is a desire, but no king will address that everything might actually be alright. In the dungeon, there was a woman, no more, far from less.

This woman, it must be stated, is neither demon nor apparition nor delusion of a lonely woman, she is simply there, a being-there, Minoes calls her Daar, an old word meaning ‘there’, because that’s where she is. Daar is happy to provide, she is younger and healthier and can glide between worlds with relative ease, she even goes so far as to remove her feet with a comical plop, because that’s customary for guests, right?

Minoes, used to and even familiar with the bizarre, or perhaps there truly is no place for suspicion when under suspicion yourself, there are no pretenses for solidarity, appreciates Daar’s company, the only thing she provides. No greetings or thank-yous, no whispers or rumours, no conspiracies or conversations about the difference between their radical worlds and the funny fact that all life everywhere contains more questions than answers but this is distinctly not a bad thing. Hardly ever a word about Daar’s transparency or the occasional cough of Minoes, not everything lends itself to exposition, not every meeting requires words, the coward’s language.

They dance through the rooms, familiarised with the subtleties native to bodies, Daar offers Minoes the things she asks for. A rug please, she begins, My knees are quite sore, Then I would like an oil lamp and some blankets, perhaps a jar opener. Bring me a mattress and many chickens for filling, she chuckles a joke, Then a bookstand, two quills, one swan and one goose feather, their thicknesses differ and that difference is valuable, some parchment and ink if it’s not too much of a bother, you are such a dear.

The chickens announce another daybreak, this is the only time Minoes knows, wasting away takes so long, but when the sun is your clock, it swings by faster than before, no pesky minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, clothes, letters, crows, deaths, geriatrics to subdivide time into frustratingly-present minutiae, pieces of the past that keep stacking with each new experience.

Minoes receives a platter of things she can only eat one half of, even equipped with a jar opener her grip fails her. Daar, unprompted, opens the jar of pickles for her, with no twist or turn of the wrist, no second attempt after great exertion, the lid simply comes off, vertically. She mentions how olives are stored much more practically and are much more delicious, too. Minoes agrees, but doubts any funds would be spent on providing such lucrative fruit to a witch. She then discovers she does not enjoy the taste of pickles. Finally, she chomps down on the loaf of bread only to hurts her teeth on something hard, a cruel prank by the guard, she concludes, and tosses it away. No food today, it seems.

However lovely this arrangement seems, its paranaturality cannot go unnoticed by way of its own nature, it escapes the conventions we’ve been taught to recognise and normalise and has fled into, created a new modality of comfort, a love that’s better than regularity, loud in its weird and new silence, therefore horrific. It doesn’t help she was already branded an evil woman.

The first pair of eyes to take note is the torturous guard who is normally stationed fifteen superstitious steps away from the door, only closing in when the overworked chef hands him the food tray. Today of all days he has reason to exert a supernormal amount of cruelty; we might empathise with that and attempt to scrutinise what’s got him feeling prickly, for we share that base humanity with him, but how about instead let’s not.

He yells a dehumanising word, hoping to draw attention, for what is power without a subject which acknowledges and which despairs, but he receives none, and it his attention that fixates on Minoes and her silly expression instead. Sour pickles will crumple the most statuesque of faces, and he only knows her through death-wishing glares.

It takes him a second to realise this, that she is eating pickles, and demands to know how that is possible, not out of curiosity or wonder, and an old woman who overpowers vacuum packing is deserving of praise, but moreso out of panic at losing control over the one cruelty to prove himself with. He spots a feetless ghost and scampers off to call for help, but not before tripping, the echoes of his armour fill the dungeon. The ladies laugh; the prisoner’s victory comes small and easy.

What are you making, May I know more about you, two questions like kisses on the left ear of Minoes, inflections audibly added to the end like Daar was taught is the custom when asking questions.

Curiosity, as we know, is not only a tool for scrutiny but is often a question behind a question, wanting to keep words dear, wanting to fill in the blanks together. To figure out the legends to navigate your maps with, what words are your roads, what nouns line out the mountains and the malpaises, what verbs show where the winds are fiercest, a remark in your throat that tells if this river can be forded or must be caulked, dotted silver phonemes for cities, towns, borders, places we named together, red squares for the landmarks around which memories are built, monuments to what two people share. The brass plaque reads and a pair of lips speaks, I will keep your secrets safe.

Minoes replies, quilling down a last word before tickling Daar’s nose with the feather, their mattress feels warm, A memoir. Daar repeats this as a question, Minoes lets her know it’s a simple piece of evidence that she has been here, a being-here, in the cell, in this life, in anyone’s life.

Why do you need to write it down when I know you have been important, this emotional declaration coming from a quasi-physical being, it must be noted, unfalsifiable words we pitch against a background of metaphysics, love as we might call it, means more than words, hers or these, can convey. Minoes chuckles and snuggles closer to the woman, her body incorporeal but the intimacy is there.

Do you have to die here, there is a height in the breath of Daar’s question that feels cold, No, dear, but I am an elder and a prisoner, and what they have in common is that both have to wait for freedom to come, Do you have to be, No, dear.

In the ensuing embraced silence, where language piles up in minds and gets stuck in throats, everyone resorts to their most personal selves, personal in the individual and independent sense, tiny habits become havens, each idiosyncrasy a pub, a bar, a quiet pier, a leaf-green bench beneath a lantern overlooking a cold and smelly promenade crowded with sailors making the most of it. Daar does something inscrutable, Minoes gnashes her teeth, remembering the exact hardness of the loaf she tried to eat. She lets her eyes wander as if a tourist inside her own awkwardness and spots a key sticking out of the bread.

You see, there was a second pair of eyes to take note of the extraordinary fate Minoes had been subject of: the overworked chef in charge of the meals of prisoners as well as the custodians, the servants, the knights, the advisors and ambassadors, the halberdiers stationed in the courtyard though not Clarice because she is allergic to nut oils and buys her lunch in town instead, and, of course, the undeserving royalty. Every very early morning, Antoin waits for the steward who unlocks the kitchen and the pantry to return to his tiresome job of saying yes sire and promptly heads out to the markets carrying a satchel of saffron, which he trades for a jar of pickles.

The guard had never known the pickles aren’t a part of the prescribed meal, but conversely, because everyone has their own tasks, Antoin means well but seeing as the entire day he must cure meats and bake breads and baste pheasants and broil soup and remember each royal member’s favourite combinations of herbs, he spits on the king’s pork, he could not have been aware of his refusal to perform the base courtesy of twisting the lid for Minoes, the sliding grate evidently only there for show.

He figured the delirious guard running up the stairs, falling back down the stairs, and running past him meant that his plan to free Minoes had worked. A monster without a cage to him, but to Antoin, she was a woman he had served with half a lifetime ago, who told him five years ago, Let’s change our name together, But we’re so old, he had lied, Age is no objection, Antoin. He had snuck in the key, a shape that spells curiosity as well as freedom, and there is only one possible outcome, really, the one where Minoes is an ex-prisoner.

What Antoin hadn’t accounted for was that she would be having company. Oh dear, I didn’t want to believe the story of your incarceration, but this ghastly girl here is damning evidence you are in some faint way conspiratorial with demons, he shrugs, Anyway, did you like the pickles?

Oh no, not at all, an honest lament, but a chef knows they cannot please every palette, their art the art of necessary destruction, after all. Minoes continues, So you were the kind soul who expanded my meals, is it too late I trouble you for olives from now on?

Yes, actually, all-considering. The two friends pause and laugh, Daar joins in, drawn in by shared amusement and the weird elation of freedom. Antoin conjects it is likely our friend the guard is screaming for reinforcements and Minoes laughs again, a beautiful sound, So having a girlfriend was the last drop, was it? Daar’s face flushes at the statement. Antoin, knowing there is no time left to ask who Daar even is or where she came from — does it matter? — or what the deal is with all those chickens, instead makes a suggestion which sets into motion events we could never prevent: escape.

Where there is a captive, escape is always at the horizon, where there is love, there is an unfathomable weirdness that is good and that tickles, where there is a prince, there is an incredible lout of a person, where there is motion, things will never be contained. Daar asks Minoes, they are in the back of a wagon, and outside in farthest possible distance there is a city with a castle, Let me hold your face, her rough hands on her dark cheeks, she feels warm and hers, what a strange meeting, so of course they kiss, of course they do.

In the cell, the fuddled guard scratches his head as his retinue attempts to catch the mysterious chickens. He finds a piece of parchment.

It reads “I will make the most of it.“

#my stories #my writing #fiction #writers on tumblr #surrealism #fantasy #queer fiction #hey i still write sometimes #this was a month-long project and i'm v. proud of it

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