#Anchor Roshan

[allwikibiography]

Anchor Roshan Biography: Check out Suman TV Anchor Roshan Full Name Srinivas Reddy Date of Birth, Age, Height, Father, Mother, Wife, Son, Family & Wiki

[shift-shaping]

a conversational trap

enaste awakens to the pain of the anchor, and seeks out solas only to find him conversing with unexpected company.

rating: t

pairing: solavellan

warnings: vague mentions of homophobia

previous fics | 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Most of the time it just felt slightly warm, like she'd been holding something too tightly, and occasionally she didn't notice it at all. But sometimes, especially when she was uniquely stressed or tired, the Anchor felt like a dagger through her flesh.

Enaste cradled her left hand in her right, eyes shut tightly, the magic of the Anchor sending chills up and down her arm. The nerves of her palm burned beneath her skin, crackling fire blazing into her muscles. Once, when she was very young, she'd reached into the hearth to grab a still-hot stone. This felt like that, but she couldn't put it down. It was bad, possibly the worst it had felt since Corpyheus tried to tear it from her in Haven.

She wanted to calm it herself. Her magic was changed now, stronger and brighter, better at being in two places at once --here, and in the Fade. Like the mark, her entire body felt compelled towards both realms. She could disperse the magic, tear away the excess radiating from her palm and pass it harmlessly across the Veil surrounding her. That was what Solas did, so why couldn't she?

She breathed slowly, focusing, feeling the rhythm of the Anchor keep pace with her heartbeat. A halo of magic surrounded it, rotating slowly around a bright green core. She reached further, stumbling past the pain, and sensed the fabric of the Veil around her. When she closed a rift, she focused the power of the Anchor directly at the Veil, pinpointing the hole and willing it repaired. Now she instead attempted to let the power in her hand crackle at the Veil harmlessly, lay across it instead of slipping through.

It didn't work. The mark wouldn't bend to her will, and instead simmered as if in protest. The more she tried, the hotter it burned, sending white sparks across her vision. She gripped her hand and tightly and doubled over in her bed, suppressing a pained whimper.

She'd seen Solas do this so many times. That she still couldn't fix this herself was humiliating. He'd even tried to show her what he did, and she was evidently not yet skilled enough to replicate it.

But it was late, so deep into the night that even the wind was silent. She wasn't sure where he slept if she needed to wake him. Sitting in her bed and whining in pain was not an option though; maybe just stretching her legs would help distract her.

She dressed shakily, one-handed, cursing at the uselessness of her limb. It was hard to tie her shirt, to pull on her trousers, and all at once she lost her balance and her ass hit the cold stone floor. She involuntarily caught herself on her left hand, and the pain that wrenched through her bones made her see stars. Again she sat cradling it, cursing it, willing it to stop overreacting. Still it burned.

Eventually it quieted slightly, or perhaps she got used to it, enough that she could stand and finish dressing. Braving the many stairs from her quarters took longer than it should have, the pain flaring so bright it may as well have blinded her.

As she expected, the castle was silent. Perhaps a few servants were at work in the kitchens, and she knew the healers and surgeons never really slept. But the quiet was eerie, and an odd sense of loneliness permeated the empty hall.

Yet she heard voices in the rotunda. Soft male voices, speaking amicably but quietly. She recognized them immediately, and was so surprised she almost forgot about the pain.

Solas and her uncle were sitting on opposite sides of the former's desk. Her uncle was animated yet quiet, and Solas was as calm as ever, though she could tell he was enjoying the conversation, nodding along as her uncle told some story or other. As soon as Solas saw her he stood, as if he was doing something he shouldn't have been.

Roshan turned and smiled brightly at her. "Good evening, da'len. What has you up so late?"

"I could ask you two the same thing," she said, trying to be friendly through the pain. Creators, her teeth were chattering.

Solas immediately noticed something was wrong and walked around his desk to meet her. "The mark is affecting you." He gently took her hand. His touch, even through the pain, was instantly both calming and nerve-wracking.

Roshan stood as well and went to her side. "I thought it didn't bother you," he said, concerned. He reached out to touch her, then hesitated.

She laughed tightly. "I didn't want you to worry."

Solas placed his other hand over hers, fingers brushing the base of her palm. Waves of cool, healing magic washed over and through her. The relief was instant, and she exhaled shakily. Roshan put his arm around her and she leaned into him for a moment, catching her breath.

"You should have come sooner," Solas admonished, but he wasn't upset. He looked unsettled. "Why did you wait?"

"I thought I could do it on my own this time." Enaste sighed and flexed the fingers of her left hand. It was back to a dull warmth, the burning fully receded. The sudden lack of pain was bizarre, like it wasn't really gone, its echo lingering like a ghost. "I tried, but I think it made it worse."

"What were you doing?" Roshan asked. Both Solas and Enaste started speaking at the same time, but she gestured for him to explain.

"The Anchor appeared on the Inquisitor's hand following the explosion at the Conclave," Solas said. "It allows the Veil to be manipulated in a manner otherwise impossible to perform. It is capable of utilizing and redirecting vast amounts of energy, and can cause pain if that energy is not discharged."

Enaste looked at her palm, where the mark had receded to a strip of pale green sliced through her skin. Roshan squeezed her around the shoulders.

"I tried to discharge it safely myself, but, obviously, it didn't work." She glanced at Solas, disappointed in herself. "I still have much to learn. Having to wake you up for help in the middle of the night is unfair."

Solas shook his head. "Enaste, please. You have nothing to be ashamed of." His voice was soft, sympathetic, like how he talked to Cole sometimes. She didn't know whether it made her feel better or worse.

Roshan frowned. He was also looking at her hand, and she could tell from his expression that he still felt guilty about his role in sending her to the Conclave.

"But it is better now," Enaste said, smiling at her uncle, trying to keep his spirits up. He gave her a toothless little smile, and nodded. Being the object of both Solas and Roshan's concern made her feel antsy. She gave Solas an awkward half-nod, half-bow. "Thank you, Solas."

The odd gesture amused him, and he smiled. "Of course, Inquisitor."

She looked at Solas's desk, and noticed the presence of a half-empty wine bottle accompanied by two glasses. "What were you two talking about, anyway?"

Solas followed her gaze, and she realized both glasses had plenty left in them. They'd hardly been drinking at all. "Roshan was telling me about his relationship with... Souren, correct?" Solas said. Her uncle nodded, and Enaste was immediately mortified. "I was unaware of the intricacies of... Dalish bonding annulments."

She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. "That explains why you're both up so late."

"Solas is an excellent listener!" Roshan smiled, either unaware of or enjoying Enaste's embarrassment. She moved away from him and rubbed the heel of her palm into her eye.

She glanced up at Solas. "How much did he tell you?"

Solas hummed, and his little smirk was both irritating and reassuring. He was definitely enjoying Enaste's reaction, which she supposed was better than him being annoyed with her uncle's tendency to drop his life story on anyone who would listen. "Up to the second annulment, after Souren left your clan the third time."

"And he better not come back!" Roshan said, suddenly louder. Enaste put her finger to her lips and he lowered his voice. "That bastard can take his arrogant ass back to Clan Ralaferin. If I never have to smell his burnt cakes again I'll die happy. I swear, having him around is like-- like--"

"Uncle," Enaste begged. "Please, you don't need to trouble Solas with this."

"Dorian was here earlier," Solas said. He had walked back to his desk, and was organizing some of the papers lying around. "He was unaware that the Dalish had same-sex bonding ceremonies."

"I was the first in the clan!"

"He was the first in Clan Lavellan."

Enaste and Roshan spoke at the same time, their tones wildly different, causing the old elf to laugh heartily.

"I do talk about that often, don't I?"

"Yes, even after I told you it wasn't true."

"Well, Souren and I were the first men to be bonded to one another in our clan's recent memory."

"You were also the fourth," Enaste added. She looked at Solas, who was observing them with polite amusement. "My uncle was bonded, then had the bonding annulled, then had another ceremony with the same man years later."

Solas nodded. "That is the gist of what he told me, yes."

"I'm sorry," Enaste said.

"He said he'd had some negative experiences with our people,” Roshan explained, crossing his arms over his chest. “So I explained that, well, so have I!"

"Oh," Enaste tilted her head, suddenly curious. "You talked about that?" Talking to Solas about the Dalish had so far been an exercise in masochism for Enaste, so she hadn't talked to him about her family in a while. It has bothered her, actually, and made her seriously consider whether he should join her on her return home.

Roshan nodded. "I was telling him and Doran--"

"Dorian."

"Dorian, yes, the Magister, I was telling them that some clans we met with at the Arlathvhen were not terribly accepting of mine and Souren's bonding, and felt it shouldn't have been performed." He shrugged. "But of course, those are some of the more... Dwindling clans. Others have been performing bonding ceremonies between men or between women for as long as they can remember." He nodded sagely. "And we do have a long memory. Why, there was that one very old woman, an elder from Clan Ghilain, I believe, who would tell us all about her own grandmother. She was the one who taught Enaste how to make flies the first time.” He smiled at Solas, suddenly excited again. “Have you seen Enaste's flies?"

"I have not," Solas said, smiling at Enaste. "I was unaware you had the supplies here."

"You don't have fly-making materials?" Roshan asked, and Enaste shook her head. "We'll have to find you some. Though I don't know where you'd fish around here. You're so remote."

Enaste realized then that she'd fallen into her uncle's conversational trap, just as Solas must have earlier. She sighed and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. The touch of the old leather he wore was oddly comforting. "Thank you, uncle, sincerely, for enlightening my allies here. But it is very late, and we need to spend tomorrow preparing for our journey back home." Josephine had convinced Enaste to wait another day to ensure they had a ship waiting for them on the coast. Enaste decided to take that time to figure out how, exactly, she would manage this excursion.

"I know, I know." Roshan smiled. "It was a pleasure though," he said to Solas. "I would very much enjoy more conversation, lethallin."

"And I as well." Solas seemed genuinely amused by Roshan, which was a much better outcome than she'd feared. Still, when Solas looked to her he was visibly tired. It must have been a long night. "Inquisitor, have you decided who will accompany you to Wycome?"

"I... Wasn't really planning on bringing anyone but you, Loranil, and whoever Leliana assigns to us as support. I did ask Varric as well, but he wants to stay with Hawke and make sure Cassandra isn't pestering him."

"I see..." Solas considered this, thinking.

"I --well, actually, I guess I didn't ask you if you wanted to go." She felt nervous suddenly, realizing that she'd just assumed he'd go with her. "You don't have to, of course. I didn't mean to be presumptuous."

Roshan's thick grey brows furrowed. "What will you do if your mark starts hurting again and Solas isn't there to help?"

Her ears felt warm. "I... I hadn't thought about that."

"I think you have to come," Roshan said to Solas, who was in the midst of stifling a yawn. "Someone needs to be able to fix that thing if it misbehaves. Our Keeper could likely reduce the pain, but very few mages have your expertise."

She realized why Solas was getting along with her uncle. Roshan's method of flattery was subtle, and she'd always known him to make fast friends with nearly everyone he met. Of course, nearly everyone she'd seen him interact with was also Dalish, and she'd worried that technique wouldn't work on an outsider.

"You are right," Solas said. "I will go, of course." He sounded stiff, but there was still a hint of warmth in his voice. Solas accompanied her on nearly all of her excursions, so the idea of going without him was odd. Still, whether he would actually get to meet her clan was a different matter entirely. Enaste needed to determine the nature of the plague Keeper Deshanna mentioned before she let anyone else approach their camp.

"What about that Grey Warden?" Roshan asked.

"Blackwall?” Enaste hesitated “I... I don't know, I thought it might be best to only bring elves, and maybe Varric."

"Why?" Roshan cocked his head. "We can behave ourselves, da'len. And Wardens are unique among shemlin." He paused, frowning. "He seems sturdy, and he was very fond of my crab cakes."

"I'll think about it." Roshan was correct --about the Wardens and the crab cakes-- and if she was going to bring any of her human companions it would probably be Blackwall. Knowing how loyal he was to her, he would probably insist on going regardless once he heard her plans.

She shook her head. "In the meantime, we really should try to get some rest." Solas nodded as he re-sealed the wine bottle. "We have a long journey ahead of us, and we need to move fast."

Roshan sighed. "I've only just gotten here, and already Deshanna misses me."

"You could probably stay here, if you wanted to," Enaste said.

"And leave you alone again?" He shook his head vigorously. "That we let you go to the Conclave without family to help you was an error we will not repeat. Besides," he smiled. "I have a grand-niece or -nephew to meet soon."

Enaste smiled at him, but after reading Deshanna's letter she'd felt only fear for Harea. Knowing her brother and his bonded were in danger, be it from bandit attacks or plague, filled her with dread. She needed to be there, to help.

At long last, they said goodnight. Enaste knew she needed to rest, but thinking about what lay ahead made that difficult. For a long time she stood out on her balcony, a wool blanket draped over her shoulders, and tried to remember home. If these mountains were plains, she could see forever to the horizon. Instead, it was like the land itself was wrapped around her, all stone and ice and pitch-black sky that sealed her from the world below.

<- prev fic | next fic ->

[meredoubt]

My feeling on Mirage is that the story is kind've a damn mess, but the location, time period, and Basim's themes, if u will, were all super interesting. I was disappointed by it mildly, but still had a great deal of fun.

The version of that game I wanted (where we play Basim watching his own memories from the comfort of modern times, frantically scouring both his own and Eivor's, looking for any clue as to how to get "his children" back) probably was a tall order. It was, after all, initially supposed to be DLC for Valhalla. But it would've been the COOLEST DLC, by like...an order of magnitude. It would have elevated Valhalla, been tighter on the story, and felt like a significantly cooler post-game than we got for either character. The Basim/Loki stuff was maybe my favourite thing they've done with the modern story since the original trilogy of games, and it would've been a really cool tying of the narratives. Basim says he doesn't know how Eivor beat him, when he's standing over her grave, but he's still here. But it clearly still troubles him. He is self-defined by his past. It would've been really effective to get into the ways in which the two reincarnations of Odin and Loki were similar in start, and also how they were markedly different in how they handled their situations. It would've been a very telling, and tragic reinforcement, of Loki and Basim's character arcs: that he can never let the past go. Eivor has been dead for a more than a millenia. She let go of Odin. She's gone, in every way that matters. But she beat Loki, once. And that gets to him. He will always be curious about someone who he can never get back. She will always have won, by letting go, and going where he cannot follow.

Nehal's reveal would've made more sense, too. We'd get a more direct comparison with Odin's reincarnation being Eivor Varinsdottir, tho I've always liked that part of the reason it took Basim a minute to understand she was Odin was just like, "...wait, my archenemy is now a hot younger Viking lady? I...hate it here."

I get wanting more women in AC-good lord does this franchise I'm fond of have a problem with misogyny-but realistically it would have felt better if it was...idk. a younger version of Loki proper. Or hell, really fuck around, even have it be the older version, somehow reaching through and reacting through the Animus 2 or whatever. Fuck it! Pass the voice actor torch more clearly. It's not like the reveal he's Loki is a surprise. If anything, it would make Basim more tragic if we know he's got the big bad in his head, but he's stumbling into it. There's no reason to try to obfuscate it from the player.

Anyway. If we're gonna lose Nehal as a female character, I think that forces Ubisoft to really bump up Roshan's role, which would've been ideal. Loki should be an occasional figure, flitting, frightening from the shadows and Basim's peripheral vision. Always the jinni to him, but frighteningly competent, calculating, tenacious, and understood to the player. But Roshan should be front and center as his actual damn human mentor. A cool older Assassin lady? Knowledgeable, has lived a full life, stern but clearly believes in him? Oh, you mean a tangible anchor to his present mortal life? The very definition of the THEME of Assassin's Creed as a franchise, that of found family and doing good in the present? Who Basim (AND THE PLAYER) sadly rejects to go chasing the past?

No, it's fine, I'm fine. Who needs to turn a light on the player and make them interrogate what it is about the past that is so compelling, and who they care about and why? Make a gamer think about their relationship with action, trauma, and community? The series that starts with "the son of no one," has all kinds of things to say about family, blood and found?

I mean, hey. It's only like the defining musical theme of the series is "Ezio's Family," who were killed in a prologue, and yet did not define the entirety of Ezio's storied life. That it's clear that Ezio's family became more than his tragic lost members, and became every living person he chose to help. That choice is a defining aspect of a person's legacy, rather than some predestined circumstance. Nothing is true; everything is permitted.

Anyway I still love this dumb series. This is a mostly positive review.

[herisms]

the reason merilin likes to play the role of an emotional healer is because she empathizes very much with those who struggle with their own minds. she suffered from horrible survivor's guilt and debilitating anxiety when she was far too young, and roshan was the one who showed her immense patience and kindness when she needed it most. so when she's taking the time to offer a listening ear or a place for someone to be vulnerable, it's because those things saved her life at one point, and she's emulating the person who was that anchor for her

[playermagic23]

Vir Das will host the International Emmy Awards 2024: "Tremendously honoured and excited"

Vir Das, an Indian actor and comedian, is set to host the 2024 International Emmy Awards. The ceremony, which recognizes excellence in television programs from throughout the world, will be held on November 25 in New York City. The news was announced on Wednesday by the International Academy of Television Arts and Sciences. Das, who has previously been nominated for and won International Emmy awards, expressed his excitement and thanks for the chance.

Das shared the news and his joy on social media, writing, "Thanks to your support, an Indian Emmy host." I'm excited to host the @iemmys this year! Crazy. Thank you for hosting me. I am tremendously honored and excited!" Hrithik Roshan commented on his post: "Wow. That is wonderful. Very nicely done.

Vir Das stated his enthusiasm for hosting the International Emmys, saying, "Returning to the International Emmy Awards, this time as the host, is a deeply personal and exhilarating moment for me." The Emmys have always been a symbol of excellence and a celebration of varied tales from all around the world. I have a strong connection to this event, having won an Emmy for Landing last year, and I am really honored to play a key role. I'm looking forward to celebrating my peers' tremendous achievements and adding a bit of comedy and joy to this important evening."

In addition to stand-up comedy, Das has worked on a number of television projects. He has written, produced, and starred in several programs, including ABC's spy drama-comedy Whiskey Cavalier, Netflix's thriller Hasmukh, and Amazon's travel show Jestination Unknown. He has also acted in films including Judd Apatow's The Bubble, and he is now working on his own single-camera comedy with CBS Studios and Andy Samberg.

Das is also the lead singer for India's comedy-rock band Alien Chutney. He recently appeared in the Amazon Prime Video series Call Me Bae, portraying a morally ambiguous TV news anchor.

[oppvenuz]

 Event Anchors in Mumbai: Your Guide to Choosing the Perfect Host

Mumbai, the bustling metropolis known for its vibrant culture and dynamic lifestyle, is a prime location for a variety of events, from corporate functions and weddings to parties and product launches. One crucial element that can make or break an event is the event anchor or host. An effective anchor brings energy, engagement, and professionalism to the occasion. Here’s a guide to some of the top event anchors in Mumbai who can ensure your event is a resounding success.

Click  Here For  More  Deatils:https://www.oppvenuz.com/vendors/anchor/?city=mumbai

 1. Nidhi Kulpati

Nidhi Kulpati is a seasoned anchor and presenter with a strong presence in Mumbai’s event scene. Known for her charismatic style and versatility, Nidhi has hosted a wide range of events, including corporate gatherings, weddings, and social functions. Her ability to connect with audiences, combined with her engaging communication skills, makes her a popular choice for those seeking a professional and energetic host.

 2. Roshan Abbas

Roshan Abbas is a well-known name in the world of event anchoring and television presenting. With years of experience in hosting various events, including corporate functions, award shows, and private parties, Roshan is renowned for his wit, charm, and engaging style. His extensive experience and ability to adapt to different event formats make him a top choice for any occasion.

 3. Meher Castelino

Meher Castelino is a prominent event anchor with a flair for style and sophistication. With a background in fashion and media, Meher brings a unique touch to events, making her a popular choice for upscale weddings, fashion shows, and corporate events. Her eloquence, professionalism, and ability to manage high-profile events ensure a seamless and impressive experience for clients and guests alike.

 4. Pallavi Mistry

Pallavi Mistry is known for her energetic and engaging anchoring style. With a strong background in media and entertainment, Pallavi has hosted a variety of events, including product launches, seminars, and social gatherings. Her ability to connect with diverse audiences and her vibrant personality make her an excellent choice for lively and interactive events.

 5. Karan Talwar

Karan Talwar, also known as “Karan’s Comedy,” brings a fresh and humorous approach to event anchoring. As a comedian and event host, Karan infuses his events with humor and entertainment, making him a popular choice for weddings, parties, and corporate functions. His unique style and ability to entertain guests while managing the event smoothly set him apart from traditional anchors.

 6. Vikram Phadnis

Vikram Phadnis is a renowned fashion designer who has also made a mark as an event anchor. Known for his sophisticated style and charismatic presence, Vikram brings a touch of glamour and elegance to events. Whether it’s a high-profile wedding or a glamorous corporate event, Vikram’s experience in both the fashion and entertainment industries ensures a polished and memorable hosting experience.

 7. Rohit Barker

Rohit Barker is a popular radio jockey and event anchor known for his engaging and dynamic hosting style. With experience in hosting a variety of events, including weddings, corporate functions, and social gatherings, Rohit brings a blend of energy, professionalism, and charisma to the stage. His background in radio ensures a smooth and entertaining experience for audiences.

 8. Pooja Bhardwaj

Pooja Bhardwaj is a versatile anchor with experience in hosting corporate events, product launches, and social functions. Known for her articulate communication and professional demeanor, Pooja ensures that every event runs smoothly while keeping the audience engaged. Her ability to adapt to different event themes and formats makes her a reliable choice for a wide range of occasions.

 9. Ankur Warikoo

Ankur Warikoo is an entrepreneur and motivational speaker who also excels as an event anchor. With his background in business and his engaging speaking style, Ankur brings a unique perspective to corporate events and conferences. His ability to blend motivational content with effective event management makes him a sought-after host for business-oriented gatherings.

 10. Sonal Kalra

Sonal Kalra is a well-known journalist and event anchor with a reputation for her engaging and eloquent hosting style. With experience in media and public speaking, Sonal is adept at handling a variety of events, from weddings and social functions to corporate seminars and workshops. Her professionalism and ability to connect with diverse audiences make her an excellent choice for any event.

 Conclusion

Choosing the right event anchor is crucial for ensuring that your event is both successful and memorable. Mumbai’s diverse and talented pool of event anchors offers a range of styles and expertise to suit any occasion. Whether you’re looking for a charismatic host for a wedding, a professional MC for a corporate event, or a humorous entertainer for a party, these top event anchors in Mumbai can bring your vision to life and create an unforgettable experience for your guests.

[oppvenuz7]

 The Best Event Anchors in Mumbai: Elevate Your Event with Professional Hosting

 Introduction

In the dynamic world of event planning, the role of an anchor is crucial to the success of any occasion. Mumbai, known for its vibrant event scene, is home to some of the most talented and professional anchors who bring energy, charm, and seamless coordination to every event. Whether it’s a corporate gathering, wedding, or social event, the right anchor can make all the difference.

Click Here For More Deatils:https://www.oppvenuz.com/vendors/anchor/?city=mumbai

 1. Top Anchors for Corporate Events

Corporate events demand professionalism and a polished presence, and Mumbai’s top anchors excel in this domain. They bring a balance of charisma and corporate etiquette, ensuring the event flows smoothly.

- Gaurav Kapoor: A seasoned anchor with years of experience, Gaurav Kapoor is known for his wit and engaging style, making him a favorite for corporate launches, conferences, and award ceremonies.

- Kavea R Chavali: An award-winning anchor, Kavea combines her eloquence and sharp presentation skills to host high-profile corporate events with poise and grace.

 2. Wedding Anchors to Add Sparkle to Your Celebration

A wedding anchor plays a pivotal role in keeping the event lively and engaging. Mumbai offers a variety of anchors who specialize in adding a personal touch to weddings.

- Gitikka Ganju Dhar: Renowned as the “Queen of Indian Weddings,” Gitikka brings elegance and warmth to every wedding she hosts, ensuring the couple’s story is beautifully narrated throughout the event.

- Manish Paul: A popular TV host and actor, Manish Paul’s dynamic presence and humor make him a sought-after anchor for celebrity weddings and grand celebrations.

 3. Anchors for Social Events and Parties

Social events require an anchor who can effortlessly connect with diverse audiences. Mumbai’s social event anchors are known for their versatility and ability to create an enjoyable atmosphere.

- Pooja Bedi: With her lively personality and years of experience, Pooja Bedi is a top choice for hosting parties, fashion shows, and lifestyle events in Mumbai.

- Roshan Abbas: A veteran anchor, Roshan Abbas is celebrated for his ability to engage audiences at various social events, from book launches to charity galas.

 4. Emerging Talent in the Anchoring Scene

While established names are popular, Mumbai is also a hub for emerging talent in the anchoring world. These new voices bring fresh energy and creativity to events.

- Shivani Mathur: With her modern approach and vibrant style, Shivani has quickly made a name for herself in the event anchoring circuit, especially for youth-centric events and brand activations.

- Karan Wahi: Transitioning from TV to anchoring, Karan Wahi brings a youthful charm and relatable persona that resonates with a broad audience.

 Conclusion

Choosing the right anchor for your event in Mumbai is essential for ensuring it runs smoothly and leaves a lasting impression. Whether you’re hosting a corporate event, wedding, or social gathering, Mumbai’s top anchors bring a blend of professionalism, charisma, and expertise to make your event truly memorable.

[theoverthinkinglover]

I wrote this poem over a month ago. Haven't named this one yet, help me out please?

Nothing, just me manifesting my delusional situationship

Koi baat nahi, agar mai aap ki nahi.

(no worries, if I'm not yours.)

Koi baat nahi, agar mai wo nahi jo aapke khayalon ki kalpana ho.

(no worries, if I'm not what makes up your imagination.)

Bas is baat ka gumaan hai mujhko,

(I'm just satisfied,)

Har roz aapse do baatein kar pati hu.

(that I get to talk to you.)

Isi baat ka gumaan hai mujhko,

(I'm just satisfied,)

Ki mere khayalon mein bas aap hi ek hain.

(that you're the only one in my imagination.)

Nahi pata mujhe, aage kya hoga.

(I don't know what will happen in the future.)

Nahi jaanti, kabhi mera aapse ek dost se zyada koi nisbat hoga.

(I don't know, if I'll ever have any relationship with you other than being a friend.)

Dil ko bas sukoon itna hai, aap zindagi mein to hain,

(my heart is satisfied because atleast you're there in my life,)

Bas sukoon itna hai, aap aankhon ke saamne to hain.

(there's the satisfaction, that atleast you're in front of my eyes.)

Jab ojhal ho jate hain, darr sa lagne lagta hai.

(when you're out of my sight, I get scared.)

Kahin ye bas ek sapna toh nahi? Kahin bas aap khwaab ka ek hissa toh nahi?

(what if all this is a dream? What if, you're just a figment of this thing called a dream?)

Jo bas Mere hai, lekin sirf khwabon mein, kyuki asal mein to aap hain hi nahi.

(who's just mine, but only in my imagination, because in reality you aren't really mine.)

Agar sach mein humara ek hona likha hai, mujhse zyada khush shayad hi kisi aur ko hona hai.

(if we're actually bound to be together, I doubt there's anyone else who'll be as happy as me.)

Lekin agar nahi, to door se hi aapko niharke khush hu mai.

(but if not, I'll just admire you from afar, and be happy.)

Kyuki Kam se kam aap hain to, mere saamne, bas mujhse kuch door.

(because atleast you're there, in front of me, even if a bit far.)

Aur mujhe kuch nahi chahiye.

(I don't want anything else.)

Aapko kho dene ka gham seh nahi paungi mai, bas toot jaungi, isliye thoda aur zyada darrti hu mai.

(I won't be able to suffer the wound of losing you, I'll break down, that's how much I'm scared to lose you.)

Anjaan Hain aap, in sab baaton se,

(you're unaware of all these talks,)

Anjaan Hain, ki mere liye aap ek dost se zyada khaas Hain.

(you're unaware, that you're special for me, more than a friend.)

Himmat nahi mujh mein, ki saamne se aakar bata sakun, kya hai na, aapko khone se darrti hu.

(don't have the courage in me, to come up to you and confess, because you know, I'm scared I'll lose what I have with you.)

Woh bahut pyari hogi, aapki aankho ka tara hogi.

(she must be really nice, must be the apple of your eye.)

Kabhi mili nahi hu usse, lekin aapki baaton se use apne saamne paaya hai.

(I haven't ever met her, but I've pictured her from your words.)

Pehle sochti thi, ki usme aisa kya hai jo mujhme nahi,

(I used to think before, why is she superior than me, what's there in her that isn't in me,)

Ab sochti hu, jaise aap Mera sukoon hain, wo bhi aapke liye kuch Kam nahi.

(now I think, the way you're my peace, she mustn't be any less than an anchor for you.)

Kismat se bheja Gaya, kudrat ka noor hain aap,

(you're Godsend, a miracle of Nature,)

Meri har khushi mein uparwale ka rubab hain aap.

(you're the blessings of God in my every happiness.)

Aur jis kisi ki zindagi mein aaye, kuch pal roshan kar diye, use khush hone ke 2-4 bahane de diye.

(You light up a few moments of whoever had the fortune to have you in their lives, gave them 2-4 reasons to have a bright smile on their lips.)

Thodi der ho gayi mujhe, par jo aitbaar mere mann mei aapke liye hai, wo wahin ka wahin, waise ka waisa hi hai, bas aapke intezaar mein;

(I got a bit late, but the love I have for you, is where it was, how it was, just waiting for you;)

Woh wahin ka wahin waise ka waisa hi rahega muddaton tak, yunhi, aapke intezaar mein.

(it's going to be there for ages to come, just like that, just waiting for you.)

~ K ♡

(update- I'm probably over this situationship. Who knows.)

[grimweaver]

OC Questionare

(Swiped from @biowarenerd) GENERAL

NAME: Meshaak Adaar

ALIAS/nickname: Iron Bull would call him “Adaarshok” once and a while as a joke, because for a time Meshaak had use salvaged pieces of Qunari armor to protect himself, which made him look like the Arishok.

GENDER: Male

AGE: 42

PLACE OF BIRTH: The Free Marches

LANGUAGE: Common with Ferelden accent, picked up from the mage that trained him.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Straight

OCCUPATION: Veteran battlemage of the 5th Blight, Valo-Kas Mercenary, presently “Inquisitor”

APPEARANCE

EYE COLOR: Silver, tinted green by the anchor.

HAIR COLOR: True black

HEIGHT: 6’ 3”

SCARS: Broken horns–the metal pieces are prosthetics, not adornment.

BURNS: On the left side of his body– he suffered these wounds during a fight with a Tevinter mage prior to the events of DAI

BODY: Lean/muscular. Torso is long, and his skin has the color and metallic sheen of coal.

FAVORITE

PASTIME: Reading, studying, cooking, stargazing, adventuring, games

FOOD: Anything drowned in curry sauce

DRINK: Burgundy

FEAR: Spiders, blood mages, the Tevinter Imperium, The Rite of Tranquility, demons/abominations, and there is a fascination/fear combo of the Qun.

FAMILY

SIBLINGS: A younger sister, Hrisaan Adaar (whom would have been the Inquisitor if certain hands of fate had arranged for her to be at the Conclave in her brother's stead.)

PARENTS: Nada (Mother) Kossro (Father)

CHILDREN: (Post-DAI) Varra (daughter) and Cassik (Son), with then-to-be wife Cassandra.

PETS: A fox named Jak

Adding another little fun fact: he was modeled after Bollywood star Hrithik Roshan

[primetelugu]

Anchor Suma Kanakala Birthday Celebration with Roshan & Manaswini | Prim...

[thebobby1432world]

Gauhar Khan Wiki, Biography, Age, Height, Weight, Family, Net Worth

Gauhar Khan Wiki: Gauhar Khan is a talented Indian actress best known for her roles in various web series. In 2013, she won the reality show 'Big Boss 7', hosted by Salman Khan. Gauhar was the first runner-up of the dance reality show 'Jhalak Dikhhla Jaa 3' in 2009. Gauhar has played memorable roles in web series like 'Tandav', 'Bestseller', 'The Salt City', and 'Shikshamandal'. In the political thriller 'Tandav', she portrayed the character of 'Maithili Sharan', the personal assistant and advisor to CM Dimple Kapadia'. In 'Bestseller', she played the prominent role of 'Mayanka Kapoor', the wife of the novelist 'Tahir Wazir' played by actor Arjan Bajwa. In Sony Liv's latest family drama series 'The Salt City', Gauhar appeared as Gunjan Bajpai, the daughter-in-law of the Bajpai family, headed by Piyush Mishra, along with Manish Anand, Jitin Gulati, Divyenndu Sharma, Eisha Chopra, Navni Parihar, Pranay Singh Pachauri, Monica Chaudhary, and Nivedita Bhattacharya. Gauhar Khan Wiki Gauhar Khan Body Measurements  Most recently, Gauhar was seen in the MX Player's web series 'Shikshamandal', where she played the lead role of a cop investigating a conspiracy and suspicious murders. In contrast, other actors in the parallel lead roles are Gulshan Devaiah and Pavan Raj Malhotra. Gauhar Khan was born to a Muslim family on August 23, 1983, in Pune, Maharashtra. She has five siblings, and Gauhar is the youngest of all. Her sister Nigaar Khan is also an actress, while her other sister Kausar Khan is a fashion designer, motivational speaker, content creator, and spa owner in Dubai.

Gauhar Khan Wiki

Gauhar Khan Wiki

After completing her Mount Carmel Convent School, Gauhar graduated with B.Com from Ness Wadia School of Commerce, Pune. Gauhar began her career as a model, participating in the Femina Miss India contest in 2002 and coming forth. She also represented India at the Miss International Contest but couldn't win the title. She then appeared in several music videos, including the famous 'Hawa Mein Udati Jaaye' by Bombay Vikings. Gauhar has also anchored shows such as 'Page 3' on Zoom and B4U music. Gauhar Khan made her acting debut in 2009 with the Yashraj banner film 'Rocket Singh-Salesman of the Year '. She appeared in several other movies, including her Punjabi cinema debut as 'Gunjan Kaur' in the 2015 film 'Oh Yaara Ainvayi Ainvayi Lut Gaya'. Additionally, she made several cameo and special appearances in feature films such as 'Kya Kool Hai Hum 3' (2016), 'Fever' (2016), 'Fuddu' (2016), 'Badrinath Ki Dulhania (2017), 'Begum Jaan' (2017), 'Tera Intezaar' (2017), 'Nine Hours in Mumbai' (2018), and '14 Phere' (2021). In 2009, Gauhar participated in the dance reality show 'Jhalak Dikhla Jaa 3 'and became the first runner-up of the show. In 2011, she appeared in 'The Khan Sisters alongside her sibling Nigaar Khan. Gauhar got her breakthrough in 2013 when she won the reality show 'Big Boss 7', hosted by Salman Khan. Real NameGauhar KhanOther NameGauahar KhanNick NameGauharProfessionActress and ModelDate of BirthAugust 23 1983Age39 Years (as on August 2023)Place of BirthPune, MaharashtraNationalityIndianHair ColorBrownEye ColorBrownSexual OrientationStraightZodiac SignVirgoReligionIslamHometownPune, MaharashtraCurrent LocationMumbai, Maharashtra, IndiaLanguages KnownHindi, EnglishSchoolMount Carmel Convent School, PuneCollegeNess Wadia School of Commerce, PuneEducational QualificationB.Com GraduateTheatreNoHobbies and Favourites StuffWatching Theatre Plays, DancingFavourite ActorAmitabh Bachchan, Hrithik Roshan, Salman Khan, Shahrukh KhanFavourite ActressSushmita SenFavourite MoviesUnknownFood PreferenceChicken Biryani

Gauhar Khan Body Measurements 

Height5’7″ ftWeight56 KgsBreast Size32 inchesWaist Size26 inchesHips Size32 inches The following year, Gauhar was invited to participate in several reality-based shows such as Khatron Ke Khiladi, Ticket to Bollywood, and India's Raw Star. While a contestant in Khatron Ke Khiladi, she appeared as a mentor and host in the other two shows. By the end of 2018, Gauhar had become one of the most talked-about celebrities in B-town. In 2019, Gauhar debuted on the OTT platform in the web series 'Parchhayee.' A couple of years later, she was roped in for the Amazon Prime series 'Tandav,' which created a buzz across the internet due to its stellar star cast, including Saif Ali Khan, Mohammad Zeeshan Ayyub, Dimple Kapadia, Kumud Mishra, Sunil Grover, Dino Morea, Anup Soni, Sandhya Mridul, Kritika Kamra, and Tigmanshu Dhulia in pivotal roles. However, 'Tandav' faced criticism for hurting people's sentiments by portraying Mohammad Zeeshan Ayyub as Lord Shiva and mouthing the lines 'Azaadi Azaadi.' Later, the show's makers apologized for unintentionally hurting people's sentiments and clipped the problematic scenes. In 2022, Gauhar was cast in the Amazon Prime suspense thriller series 'Bestseller,' where she played the role of Mayanka Kapoor, a novelist's wife chased by an unnamed foe. The series also features Mithun Chakraborty and Shruti Haasan in important roles. Later that year, Gauhar appeared in the Sony Liv drama series 'The Salt City,' where she played the character of Gunjan Bajpai, the daughter-in-law of the Bajpai family. She was also seen in the MX Player series 'Shiksha Mandal,' where she played a cop investigating a series of criminal events. Read the full article

[allwikibiography]

Anchor Roshan (Full name Srinivas Reddy) is an anchor & CEO at Suman TV. He was born on Sunday, 4th November 1990 in Bollapalli, Guntur, AP

[sounmashnews]

[ad_1] Expectations have been excessive from Saif Ali Khan and Hrithik Roshan starrer ‘Vikram Vedha’, nonetheless the viewers has not likely come out in big numbers to help the entertainer. ‘Vikram Vedha’ couldn’t cross the 50 crore mark on the finish of its first weekend. Early estimate means that ‘Vikram Vedha’ had a tricky Sunday and earned within the vary of round Rs 14.5-15 crore nett. At the tip of its three-day weekend, ‘Vikram Vedha’ has earned a complete of Rs 38 crore nett, studies Boxofficeindia. The movie didn’t develop throughout mass areas and carried out common in essential circuits like Mumbai, Pune, Hyderabad and Bangalore. However, ‘Vikram Vedha’ earned a good rating in Kolkata. With Dussehra not far away, the gathering is anticipated to extend on Wednesday. Post the movie’s launch, Hrithik Roshan penned a notice on social media, letting go of his character of ‘Vedha’. The actor lower a thread on his proper wrist and defined within the caption, “Time to let go. I don’t know exactly when I started doing this. Or even why. But I realized today that I’ve secretly done this for every character that terrified me. Mostly it’s a red mauli ( kabir wore that) and sometimes it’s a black thread. Can’t even remember when I started this. Was it kaho na pyaar hai ? Or koi mil gaya or much later? ( Wil have to go back and check my wrists or neck in those films ) cause it’s never planned. Vedha got it at dress rehearsals n became it. Kabir got it at the War mahurat pooja and I made it a part of him. I think I do it cause it physically anchors the commitment I make to myself before I begin. A secret pact between me and myself. The ritual of cutting it is always confusing. For vedha I tried once my shoot got over but couldn’t , then when my dub got over , but again couldn’t. And then I finally did when the question I ask myself had a satisfactory answer “Did I give this everything I had?” “Can I do more ?” - it’s a query that scares me , drives me , n retains me looking for extra. Vedha has been a terrific journey. Thru him I learnt to be. At peace with my failings. Unafraid and unapologetic. I'll all the time be grateful to my administrators and writers Pushkar and Gayatri for creating this chance. Thank you Vedha. I let go With love and gratitude.” [ad_2] Source link

[inspectormila]

Maneater || Solo

Setting: The night after this (x) Location: Mila’s Apartment Content Warning: Food poisoning mention Summary: After getting a bit of sand in her eye, Mila finds herself having longer, deeper nightmares. Like this one.

Nightmares weren’t something Sharmila often encountered. Her dreams were usually bright and fun, most often including her friends and family around a large bonfire. Scents of roasting meat and veggies wafting around as her parents seamlessly moved through the crowd offering to refill drinks or hand out small bites. Flames danced and reflected in her loved ones faces as they mingled and chatted, happiness and mirth filling her heart. But tonight was different.

The scene was the same, her mother slipping between neighbors with a tray of cocktails, her brother working with her father setting up the night’s fireworks, and Mila socializing at the very top of her game. But the air was cold and stale. Her stomach growled as if she hadn’t eaten in months. She frowned, looking down at the full plate of rabbit meat. She’d fasted all week for this, but hadn’t she already gorged herself? The meat looked rancid and slimy, causing her nose to wrinkle. 

“Is anything wrong, love?” Mila looked up, her brows pulling down over her eyes before she shook her head, waving the feeling away. “Oh no, Mrs. George, everything is perfectly perfect. I just, well I think I got a bad piece of meat.” 

“Oh, you know that’s not it, darling.” Mrs. George, the Darzi’s neighbor for over 15 years reached out and slapped her plate away. Mila frowned down and the rotting flesh now seeping into their perfectly manicured lawn. “You need a real meal! For god’s sake, look at you! You’re wasting away!” 

“I do,” Sharmila echoed. Her stomach roared, caving in on itself. Mrs. George had know Mila since she was a child. She’d watched her and her brother grow up, and deep down she knew what they were. Monsters. Inhuman. She knew what they needed.

Her stomach growled again, loud enough to shake her small body. The hunger was insatiable. She spun around, looking for Roshan. He was her anchor, he would know what to do.

Instead, fifty pairs of eyes were glued to Mila, watching her every move. Their eyes were wide with terror, but they were frozen in place. Echoes of laughter floated around, but there was no source to the happiness. Like a deer in headlights. Like a rabbit in a rattlesnake’s path.

“Roshan??” Mila drifted through her neighbors, friends she’d lived with her entire life, people she played with as a child, faces she’d laughed and cried with. 

Grasping her stomach, Mila bumped into person after person, searching their fearful faces. It felt like she was starving, like her stomach was stretched for food but so so achingly hollow. Her steps grew shaky and her vision blurred.

“Mila? What’s going on?” Suddenly Roshan was there, holding her shoulders and wearing that comforting smile that could always untangle whatever knots she carried. “You haven’t even touched your food, is everything alright?”

Sharmila looked down at her plate. It was Mrs. George’s left hand. She could tell by the distinctive 80s style wedding band her husband had given her so many years ago. It was an awful gaudy thing, and it was Mila’s favorite. Had always been her favorite. The hand was roasted to perfection, just like her father always made. Only he didn’t...did he? They didn’t eat people...but there was Mrs. George, smiling and waving the bloody stump of her left hand.

Delicately, she picked up the morsel and unhinged her jaw. The hand slid down her throat with ease and once it hit her stomach, the grumbling became deafening. It was both utterly satisfying and agonizing.

“More,” she rasped, reaching out and clutching Roshan’s shirt so hard it ripped. Her brother smiled down at her, gesturing to the party. 

“Take all you want.”

[jaellery]

Out of the Blue

In which a sailor reminisces and moves forward.

Content warnings: Death by drowning, mentions of blood and ambiguous child suffering

―――――――

Wind whipped past Roshan’s face as he untied the dock lines. It blew in from the west, and he cast a nervous glance in that direction, where thick clouds, a sickly green-grey, rolled in over the open ocean. It was too far away to gauge the severity, and noting that the waves lapping against the beach were barely choppier than usual was of little comfort.

He peered across the dock at Dinesh – Roshan’s anchor, as he always was; a solid presence that he could hold onto when he started to drift, as he always did. Even in the face of uncertainty, Dinesh was unflappable. Today was no exception, and he was as focused and determined as he always was. This was more of a comfort to Roshan than the smooth seas. Dinesh was confident enough for both of them.

But a seed of worry planted itself in Roshan’s mind when he’d awoken to the deep, orange-pink sunrise, and that seed had rooted itself the moment he noticed the nauseating clouds gathering in the distance. He gave another glance towards the horizon, then turned his focus towards his captain again as he slipped the dock line free from its piling. “Dinesh… is this a good idea?”

Dinesh looked up, his expression unchanging – but the way he worked his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other was a mannerism with which Roshan was well-acquainted, and one which betrayed Dinesh’s annoyance. His quiet huff of irritation was lost under the usual din of the beach, but Roshan was also well enough acquainted with his tells that he knew it was there without having to hear it.

Dinesh unhitched another dock line, letting the rope dangle from the side of their small ship. “What difference do you imagine it would make if I told you it wasn’t?”

“None, I suppose,” Roshan answered after only a moment of quiet consideration.

Above them, Bright scurried from line to line, coiling the rope for storage and trying to look as though he wasn’t eavesdropping. It was not convincing; golden, pupilless eyes darted restlessly between them, and Roshan shot him a scolding look. Bright pretended to be suddenly, keenly interested in the deck beneath his feet.

“No, I’d suppose not.” Dinesh finally turned westward, squinting up at the clouds through the faint light. “You’re worried about the storm.” It wasn’t a question; it didn’t have to be.

“Of course I am.” Roshan’s eyes didn’t leave the horizon as he answered. “It’s dangerous.”

“It’s always dangerous.”

“But not this dangerous.” Roshan’s words were low, mostly muttered to himself. “Can we not wait until the storm has passed?”

“It’s coming in slowly. It may well be nightfall by the time it even reaches us—”

“We could just—”

“—and we may not be able to gather enough crew a second time, not before the town’s supply runs out.”

Roshan’s tail flicked in annoyance at Dinesh’s correct prediction of his suggestion. “…we… could…” His words were drawn out, halting as he struggled to find another solution. “We could try the river, again—”

“We’ve tried. There’s nothing there anymore; not enough, anyway, and you know it as well as I do,” Dinesh said gently. He clapped a hand on Roshan’s shoulder – once, then twice; firm and reassuring. “As I said, it’s coming in slowly, and it’s still far off, at that. It’s likely it will miss us entirely. But I’ve weathered many storms, Roshan; I’ll weather many more, and, if need be, I’ll weather this one beside you.”

Roshan hesitated, his eyes still scanning the storm clouds.

“Roshan,” Dinesh rumbled, and the sound pulled Roshan’s gaze back to him. Dinesh squeezed his shoulder more firmly, fixing him with a forceful stare. Somehow it only caused the knot in Roshan’s stomach to twist tighter, and he turned his gaze away again. “A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor. You are already capable, but use this as an opportunity to hone your skills and become stronger when we return home.”

Bright let out a low whistle from above, and Roshan’s attempted scolding was drowned out by the booming of Dinesh’s voice as he rallied his crew. “All right – all hands on deck! There’s work to be done, and we’ve wasted enough time.”

Bright met Roshan as he clambered on board, and clapped him on the back hard enough, and suddenly enough, to make him stumble. Roshan shot him an irritated look, and Bright laughed, flashing an apologetic smile as he followed him onto the deck. “Dinesh ain’t always the best at saying what folks need to hear, is he?”

“Bright—”

“What? He ain’t.” He gestured to Roshan’s twitching tail with a flick of his wrist, as accustomed to Roshan’s tells as Roshan was to Dinesh’s. “Clearly.”

“That’s… it’s not—”

“You’re not normally this restless, Ros’.”

Roshan scowled. “I’m not normally facing the unknown.”

“Unknown to you.” He paused. “You’re right to be worried—” Roshan squinted at him incredulously, but Bright pushed on before he could get a word in. “You’re right in your way. Avoiding danger is every creature’s most basic instinct, innit? We all want to save our own hides. Be stranger if you weren’t worried.”

The rest of the crew bustled around them. Roshan silently began adjusting the outhaul, and Bright took that silence as an invitation to continue.

“Captain’s right, too, though. Probably felt the same as you, first time he had to weather a storm. But once you done something enough times, it stops being scary. Have faith!” He paused again – more pensively, this time, as he stole a glance at the line where the sky and sea collided. “And… as he said, it might just miss us. It is pretty far off.” He clapped his hand against Roshan’s shoulder again, beaming. “Besides, it’s not like we’re sailing out into it. When’ve we ever lost sight of the shore?”

Roshan finally broke his silence with a grunt as he tugged at the main sheet in one rough, irritated movement. He wasn’t entirely convinced, but it was difficult to stay surly in the face of Bright’s sunny demeanor. His words were some small comfort, as was the familiar feeling of settling into their work routine. “I know that; all of that, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Bright started to reply, but Dinesh’s words cut sharply through his own from across the deck. “Bright! Enough dragging your feet. Get to work!”

“Yessir—” Bright’s words were knocked out of him in a loud rush of air as the boom swung around and caught him in the stomach. Roshan, the line dangling limply in his hands, gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence.

“Sorry, hand slipped,” he lied.

“Both of you focus.” Dinesh’s voice was commanding, but strained with exasperation. Bright and Roshan’s horseplay was routine, but it never seemed to aggravate him any less.

“Yessir,” they called in tandem. Bright scurried across the deck towards his own post and they set back to work in quiet amusement.

The storm rolled closer on the horizon.

―――――――

Things had been difficult for Roshan when he’d first arrived at the Temple of Climbing Flowers – though, of course, things had been difficult for Roshan for some time before that. By the time Dinesh came to his rescue, Roshan had been focused on solely his survival for so long that the idea of having safety, or security, or a place to lay his head without fear of being robbed (or worse) was entirely foreign. The people at the temple were generous and patient, but he met their kindness with ungratefulness and hostility, claws and teeth and sharp edges.

The garden was the first place Dinesh took him after Roshan started speaking to them in full sentences. It was a large, circular courtyard around which the rest of the temple had been built, and in its center sat the central building of the temple, a small sanctum where the monks met to pray and meditate. Crops were cultivated in neat rows that branched outwards from the sanctum towards the rest of the temple, and Roshan had been stunned back into a deeper silence as he absorbed the sight.

“The garden!” Dinesh gestured with a sweeping motion of his arm. “What do you think?”

Roshan took it in for a moment, then carefully stepped towards one of the planted beds, crowded with rows of tomato plants. He reached out carefully to touch one of the fruits – they were orange, still; not ready to harvest, but already nearing the size of his fist. The plant drooped under its own weight, barely held up by the wooden trellis someone had constructed around it. It was the same down the other rows – a diverse collection of plants, all encumbered with food.

He turned to Dinesh, brows furrowed incredulously. “This isn’t a garden; this is a fucking farm.”

“Mind your tongue, lad.” Dinesh shook his head at him disapprovingly, but failed to suppress a smile. “Yes, it is big. It must be; we’re feeding a great many people.”

The plants stood taller than Roshan did, and he reached up curiously to see if he could touch the top. He couldn’t. “The temple…?”

“Right. The folks in town, too.”

“All of them?”

“No. Just a great many of them.” Dinesh ducked between the rows of plants onto a narrow, overgrown stone path, carefully stepping around the leafy-green plants growing at the base of the tomatoes. Roshan couldn’t identify them, but he knelt down  to touch them. Dinesh re-emerged a moment later, regarding him curiously. “Are you coming?”

Roshan hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the edge of the courtyard, back the way they’d come. “I… I would rather—”

“Oh, I beg your pardon. Did you have something better to do? Sit in your room alone, perhaps?” Dinesh’s tone was laden with sarcasm – not quite mocking or antagonistic, but certainly bordering on it. He turned and continued on without much waiting on a reply, and Roshan followed haltingly behind him.

“It’s… safe there.”

“It’s safe here.”

“I don’t know that.”

Dinesh shifted his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other. “You do now. I just told you.”

“I don’t—”

“People can’t be islands, Roshan. Isolating yourself will not—”

Roshan stopped dead in his tracks. “I want to be left alone,” he sputtered, and even as it left his lips he knew it sounded petulant.

Dinesh wheeled on him then, not aggressive or threatening, but quickly enough to make Roshan flinch back from him. “Isolating yourself will not ease your pain, Roshan. People are not made to suffer alone. You come out so rarely there are still those here who haven’t seen your face. You squirrel away food as though you think the people who have shown you nothing but kindness—” Dinesh gestured widely around them. “—will suddenly decide that there are not enough resources to feed you.” Roshan bristled at this, but Dinesh continued.

“They think you ungrateful. They act out of the goodness of their hearts, but you spurn them, and when they try harder to reach you, you lash out.”

“I… I’m just—”

“You’re all heat and no light, lad, and no one knows what to do with you.” Dinesh’s voice was not cruel in that moment. It was resigned. “They are wary, and a time will come when their patience will clash with their fear. Do you truly want to test which of the two is stronger?”

The silence after he spoke was heavy and it sank deep into Roshan’s chest; not the coursing, jittery fear to which he was accustomed, but something condensed and oppressive. Roshan didn’t speak, and Dinesh clasped his shoulder with a firm, steady hand and knelt down to meet his eye.

“I am not afraid of you, Roshan. I have no need to be. You are a lost, scared child who needs safety and guidance. Those are gifts that this community – your community, now – are trying to offer to you. To not accept is ungrateful and foolish.”

His words struck a chord, and Roshan wavered; Dinesh’s eyes bore into him and he averted his gaze, wanting to see almost anything else. Unfortunately, his eyes immediately met another pair, and he balked as the small purple tiefling who had apparently been watching them raised his hand in a polite wave.

“Bright!” Dinesh boomed suddenly, cheerfully, and Roshan flinched away from the noise. Dinesh straightened his back and returned the smaller boy’s wave. “Have you met Roshan yet?”

“Please don’t,” Roshan begged quietly, eyes blown wide, but when the boy shook his head, Dinesh beckoned him over. His golden eyes searched Roshan’s face as he approached. They eyed each other in a silence that Roshan thought awkward, but the boy certainly didn’t seem to feel the same.

“Roshan, this is Bright.” Dinesh ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately and Bright beamed. “He tends to the garden. Very well, I might add.”

Roshan blinked once in surprise and took a quick glance around them, at the plants that stretched as far as he could see. In spite of himself, he was impressed, and it was evident in his voice when he spoke. “By yourself?”

“No, I’m eight years old,” Bright said, matter-of-factly. He gazed up at Roshan for another moment, in the rudely studious way to which children are inclined, then turned away to rummage through the basket he held under one arm. After a moment, he produced an enormous cucumber, which he shoved at Roshan triumphantly. “Here, eat this.”

Roshan squinted down at him and shook his head.

“Why not? I just picked it. And…” He prodded Roshan in the stomach with it, and Roshan flinched away.

“…stop that.”

“You’re scrawny. I never seen you eat.”

“I’m not— hungry.” His protests were cut off by the loud growling of his stomach, and Bright glowered up at him.

“Eat it.” Bright’s demeanor changed in an instant as he brandished the cucumber threateningly. Roshan speechlessly accepted and bit into it, and Bright’s geniality returned as quickly as it had gone. “It’s good, right?”

“…yes,” Roshan conceded. It was good, fresh and crisp and juicy, the skin still a little warm from the sun.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Bright chirped, seeming unbothered by it. When no response came, he turned his gaze towards Dinesh. “He don’t talk much, do he?”

“I have a feeling that you can talk enough for the both of you.” Dinesh met Roshan’s eyes over Bright’s head. Something playful glinted in his eyes, something quietly pleading in Roshan’s, but Dinesh looked away from him and gave Bright another pat on the head. “Now, why don’t you show Roshan the rest of the garden? I intended to, but you know it far better than I do, after all.”

Bright’s face lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically in tandem with Roshan’s desperate shaking of his head. He glanced up at Roshan, who immediately fell still, and flashed him a winning smile. “You like plants, right? I saw you touching them real careful.”

“…it… helps me learn.”

“Well, there’s lots of plants, so you’ll learn a lot!” Bright readjusted his basket on one arm and reached out to lace the fingers of his free hand with Roshan’s. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

Roshan glanced up at Dinesh imploringly, but Dinesh only met him with a smile and a wave. “You couldn’t ask for a better teacher, Roshan. Listen well!”

“I… I really don’t—”

“Come on, now!” Bright gave his hand a forceful tug, leaning his full weight into it as if he trusted Roshan not to let go.

Roshan didn’t. His repeated protests fell on deaf ears, and he tripped over himself in his half-hearted attempts to stop them both in their tracks. Dinesh watched them go, chuckling to himself in subdued amusement, but Roshan was only able to catch a glimpse before Bright pulled them out of view.

―――――――

An hour had passed by the time Dinesh came back to check on them. Roshan didn’t even notice his return, at first; he was still at Bright’s side, listening with wide-eyed fascination as the boy pointed out his favorite plants – some that Roshan had never even heard of – and delved into their uses and how to take care of them. Bright carefully harvested vegetables as they walked, tucking them into the basket that Roshan had somehow ended up carrying.

Dinesh watched from the hall surrounding the garden. Bright took Roshan’s hand again and tugged him down the path with no struggle on Roshan’s behalf, but Roshan stopped them as they approached the hall. His fingertips trailed over the flowers hanging from the archway – vines packed densely with white and yellow petals. “What are these?”

“That one is jasmine…” Bright pointed to each flower in turn. “…and honeysuckle, and bougainvillea. Don’t touch the vines; there’s thorns.” He paused, glancing at Roshan curiously. “…do you like flowers?”

Roshan silently nodded, and Bright beamed up at him, dragging him a little further down the path to a bed bursting with flowers. He flopped down in front of it, tugging Roshan gently down with him, and gestured with a grandiose sweep of his arms. “Flowers!” It was a smaller, more energetic version of Dinesh’s introduction of the garden, and it made Roshan smile, small as that smile was. He set the basket of vegetables down as Bright continued. “Which ones do you want to know about?”

“…what’s this one called?” Roshan mumbled, reaching out to gently brush his fingers across the petals of a pale yellow flower.

“That’s a chrysam… chrysamthen…” Bright stumbled over the pronunciation for a moment, then settled on, “uhh… that’s a mum. We use it to make tea in the summer. You never seen a mum before?”

“I have. These look different from the ones I’ve seen, though.” His hand trailed over to a small, bright purple flower. “What’s this one?”

“Winecup. We use parts of it for cooking.”

A large, red flower.

“Hibiscus. That one’s for tea, too— you don’t know what a hibiscus is? You even been outside before?”

Dinesh let out a bark of a laugh from where he leaned nearby. “Go easy, Bright. He’s from inland. The plants are different there.”

“Really?” Bright turned to Roshan, as if for confirmation. “Really?”

Roshan made a tiny noise of affirmation, eyes still scanning the flower bed in front of him. He leaned towards a portion that had been cordoned off, filled with shrubs covered in flowers in varying shades of pink. He reached towards one crowded with pale pink blooms. “What’s this one—”

“Don’t touch that!” Bright yelped, rushing forward to grab Roshan’s wrist. Roshan flinched away from the plant and they both flinched away from each other, then sat for a moment in shocked silence.

“Sorry,” Bright told him hastily, “I didn’t mean to scare you – that one’s oleander; it’s poison. You’ll get a nasty rash if you touch it.”

Roshan glanced quickly between the shrub and Bright. “Why is there poison?”

“To get rid of the mice and rats. Our mouser can only do so much.”

“How do you tend to them if you can’t touch them?”

“I don’t, the older monks do. They wear gloves.”

Roshan conceded both points with a little shrug, turning back to look at the flowers again. “They’re pretty, though.”

Dinesh came to kneel next to them. “Pretty things can be dangerous.”

“That’s… not what I meant.” Roshan’s fingers twitched against the top of his leg. “I’m just… disappointed?”

“Lots of pretty things are dangerous,” Bright chimed in, his tone inappropriately chipper. He leaned over Roshan’s lap to point a finger at the darker pink oleander blooms. Roshan leaned back slightly to accommodate him. “See this color?”

Roshan waited for him to continue, but Bright didn’t, clearly waiting on an answer. “…yes?”

“See how it’s really bright?”

“…yes?”

“Bright colors mean things are dangerous.”

“Sometimes,” Dinesh corrected.

“Sometimes,” Bright repeated. “Like… bugs. And snakes. And the sky!”

“The sky?”

“Yeah, Dinesh said so!”

Dinesh chuckled and leaned back on his heels, elbows braced against his knees. Roshan turned to look at him, and he cocked his head to the side. “An old adage. ‘Pink sky in the morning, sailors take warning.’”

Roshan laughed then, one short, loud bark, and he immediately shrank back as his companions both eyed him in surprise. His face flushed and he avoided their eyes, trying to keep his voice even. “…there are no sailors. Nobody sails anymore.”

“Dinesh does!” Bright chirped, and Roshan turned back to give them both an incredulous look.

Dinesh shrugged. “Not much. Here, there’s not much need to.”

“Really?” There was no masking Roshan’s skepticism, and he winced at the sharpness in his tone. Dinesh lofted an eyebrow at him, questioning, and he reluctantly continued. “I just – it’s dangerous. Everybody knows it is. You don’t go on the ocean and live to tell about it.”

“I did.” Roshan eyed him dubiously, but Dinesh’s expression never wavered. “You’ve been in a river, have you not?”

He nodded slowly.

“The waters on the coast are calm just as the waters in the rivers are calm.” He shrugged, again. “I’ve always kept sight of the shore, and I’ve always come back alive.”

“I find that very hard to believe.”

“Do I look dead to you, lad?”

“That’s not what I—”

Dinesh chuckled, then, and peered at Roshan curiously. “What difference do you imagine it would make whether you believed me or not?”

Roshan paused. “None, I suppose.”

“No, I’d suppose not.” Dinesh stood with a quiet grunt, stretching to crack his back. “A pink sky in the morning just means a storm’s coming. Useful whether you’re sailing or not.”

Roshan stumbled to his feet and brushed off the knees of his pants, taking a moment to search for some deeper meaning in Dinesh’s words. He didn’t find one – it was just a piece of practical advice. Dinesh simply had the sort of demeanor that suggested he was one to spew platitudes, Roshan thought, and the thought was amusing enough to make him chuckle under his breath.

Bright tugged his sleeve suddenly, and Roshan jolted as he turned to look. Bright motioned for him to lean in closer, and he did, flinching when Bright suddenly grasped his face.

“What are you—”

“Hold still,” Bright scolded, squishing Roshan’s cheeks as he scrutinized him, and Roshan felt his face redden. Bright turned his face towards the lighter pink oleander flowers. “Okay. See that color?”

“Yes?” He expected another lesson about the dangers of nature, but instead Bright beamed up at him, relinquishing his grip on Roshan’s face to throw his arms to his sides emphatically.

“It’s you!”

Dinesh laughed, loudly, and Roshan flustered, furrowing his eyebrows. “I’m not— I’m not dangerous—”

“Not ‘cause I think you’re dangerous. ‘Cause you’re pink.” Bright laughed, placing his hands on his hips. “‘Course you’re not dangerous; you don’t look like you could hurt a fly.”

“Not if you wanted to,” Dinesh remarked, and he grinned when Roshan shot him a look. He turned to Bright, then. “All right. It’s getting late. You and Roshan take those vegetables to the kitchen and help the others.” Bright nodded eagerly, and Dinesh fixed his gaze on Roshan. “Roshan. You know how to cook?”

He jerked at the sudden eye contact and looked down at his feet. “Um… little bit.”

“Good. You’ll learn more.” He scratched his chin and nodded towards the hallway behind him. “Go on with you, then. Bright, make sure he doesn’t run off.”

“Yessir!” Bright gathered up his basket in one arm and grabbed Roshan’s hand again with the other, chattering to him noisily as they went. “Everyone’s real nice, okay? They’re all curious, but I’ll tell them you don’t talk much, so you don’t have to answer their questions. You can sit with me at dinner…”

―――――――

It was a strange memory to reminisce on, Roshan thought.

Salty wind whipped through his hair as he leaned over the railing and peered into the water. They were drifting easily now, the open ocean on the port side, and the shore slowly shrinking to starboard. The dark clouds were still creeping closer and he glanced up at them anxiously, chewing at the inside of his lower lip. Dinesh and Bright were right; he knew they were right, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were on the brink of disaster. Years of struggling to survive did that to a person, he’d been told, and the feeling was not foreign to him in the least, but he hadn’t been afraid of the sea in years. Sailing was relaxing, even, and he’d been waiting for that familiar comfort to replace the fear, but it hadn’t yet.

He was jostled out of his thoughts by the clap of a large hand against his back. He glanced over his shoulder and Dinesh gazed back at him, his smile subdued enough that a stranger might not catch it.

“You worry, still.”

Roshan sighed, gripping the rail and leaning back. “Yes. It’s gotten tiresome quickly.”

“I should imagine so.”

Roshan was silent.

Dinesh’s hand remained on Roshan’s back as he moved to stand next to him, and he leaned against the railing with his free arm. “We’re coasting comfortably. Our trajectory hasn’t changed. We’re close to the shore, and we’re all capable and alert.” He paused. “There is little else I can say to comfort you that has not already been said.”

“I know. I just… can’t seem to shake it.”

“I will not ask you to. I simply ask that you keep your head, as you always do, and put your faith in our crew, and in me.” The smile Dinesh flashed him was easier this time, more open, and Roshan returned it weakly.

“As I always do.”

“As you always do.”

There was a sudden shout from behind them, and Dinesh turned calmly to see that Bright had nearly fallen off of the crossbeam on the mast, where he was now dangling by his tail and one leg. He looked at them pleadingly, and Dinesh glanced back to Roshan, one eyebrow raised and his lips pressed into a thin line. “…perhaps put more faith into some of us than others.”

Roshan barked out a surprised laugh. “Your joke for the year, and you spent it on me? The gods truly smile upon me.”

“What joke?” Dinesh failed to fight back a smirk, and he stood from the railing, clapping Roshan on the back once more. “Right. Take over for him, would you? We shall find work for him and his lead feet elsewhere.” A pause. “As I said, all is well. We will not suffer should you need a moment to gather yourself, first.”

“Yessir. Thank you.” He watched as Dinesh walked off, loudly chastising Bright as he went. Roshan glanced back down. The water was clear beneath him, but he could see wisps of grey beginning to roll in behind his reflection. He tried to put it out of his mind as he went to clamber up the mast and take Bright’s place.

―――――――

It wasn’t long before he spotted a telltale shimmer beneath the surface – the flash of light on scales. He shouted down to the rest of the crew, and he and Dinesh worked together to direct the others in changing their heading. They dropped the net, and then there was little else for them to do but wait.

He stayed up on the main yard even once their course was set, his legs waving idly, one arm hooked around the mast and his tail coiled around the beam below him. Perching himself up here was a habit he had taken to quickly once he’d gotten his sea legs, and it was one that Dinesh had warned him against initially – “it’s tempting fate to stay up there longer than necessary,” he’d said – but Roshan was sure-footed, and alert enough that dozing off wasn’t the issue that it was with Bright.

Not that Roshan could entirely blame him for his drifting. The cool breeze, the gentle sway of the ship beneath him, the vast view of the ocean, of the Archipelago, of their monastery… this was his definition of tranquility, and he would never deny that it was lulling. It was not quite lulling enough to risk plummeting to the deck and breaking every bone in his body, but it was something of which he would never tire. It was familiar, comfortable – it felt like home. Safety. Time to work and collect his thoughts had allowed Roshan to wrap himself back into that security.

They sailed on in calm for a few hours more, quiet and peaceful other than Dinesh and Roshan’s shouted directions and the crew’s customary peppering of playful jibes. A sudden gust pulled Roshan out of his reverie, and he scanned their surroundings as the crew set to drop the net again. The clouds had clustered above them, and he saw now that the shore seemed suddenly much farther away on the horizon.

He jolted, scrambling to his feet out of a sheer overabundance of energy; it wasn’t as though a better vantage point would help in this matter.

“Hey,” he called down, managing to keep his voice level, “hey, we need to change our tack. To port, now.”

Below, the others checked their position to confirm his urgency, and there was a beat of silence before they scurried into action.

Bright grabbed onto the main line, peering up at Roshan. “Ros’, why didn’t you say something sooner?” His voice cut more than usual and Roshan felt a pang of guilt, but Dinesh spoke before he could respond.

“There’s no need for that, Bright.” He glanced over his shoulder as he gripped the helm. “Not one of us noticed, either.”

Bright fell silent. There was another fierce gust of wind as Roshan turned to begin his descent back to the deck. The ship heeled dramatically, and he just managed to grab hold of the crossbeam as he fell, scarcely avoiding tipping into the sea.

The ship settled back on the water, and there was another tense moment of silence as the crew gathered themselves. Roshan scrambled down, hustling into place next to Bright, who shot him a worried glance. Roshan shook his head dismissively, no words needing to be exchanged between them for apology or forgiveness.

They pulled the line, hard, only to have it whipped out of their hands as the winds changed again. The boom swung around, the sail rippled violently, and the boat lurched as Bright and Roshan scrambled to catch hold of the line. Roshan managed to grapple it, but an unnaturally strong gale caught them and pushed them further out to sea. Rain began to fall as the coast finally disappeared over the horizon.

Panic rose in Roshan’s chest. It grew cold, and the chill spread throughout his body. There was only the sea and the sky, both of them that sick green-grey now, and their ship stuck horribly in between. He cast a frantic glance towards Dinesh, but the captain’s face didn’t betray any worry – as it always was.

“Stay calm,” Dinesh grunted, one hand on the helm as he took stock of their situation, his eyes scanning across the ship, the waves, the sky. “As Roshan said, we must change our tack. We have fought against the wind before, and this need not be any different. Compose yourselves.”

Roshan shut his eyes, breathed deep, and let it out again in a long, loud exhale. Composure… he just needed enough composure to chase the ice out of his veins. When he opened his eyes, Dinesh had both hands on the helm again, and his voice boomed over the wind and the growing rumbling above them.

“All right, all hands! Haul up the net. You, batten the hatches— Bright, Roshan, reef the main and stay put.”

“Yessir!”

Roshan took another stilted breath as he cinched his lifeline around his waist. Next to him, Bright fumbled with his own, his hands shaking.

Roshan reached over to help him despite his own unsteady hands, and fixed him with a direct stare. “Don’t panic, Bright. Only hours ago you told me to have faith, did you not? We’ll weather this, as Dinesh said.”

Bright laughed nervously, offering up a smile that wavered and vanished before it had even fully appeared, like a fire that didn’t want to start. “Faith… right. I’m sure you’re right.”

―――――――

Roshan didn’t know how long it was before the storm reached its zenith. It felt like hours. They fought against the wind as fiercely as they could, but the wind met every correction in their course. It gusted more furiously with each of their renewed efforts, pushing them steadily farther out across the roiling sea. His eyes stung, his throat was raw, and his muscles burned and ached.

The wind surged and howled around them. The ship lurched from one side to the other as the sea beneath them churned. Rain fell like icy needles against Roshan’s skin and he hissed through his teeth as he and Bright tightened their grips, the line tearing at their already rope-burned palms. The shriek of the wind and the roar of the thunder and waves above and below was maddening, and Roshan absurdly thought they sounded like voices, furious and vengeful.

“This ain’t natural!” Bright finally burst out, his words barely carrying over the cacophony of the storm. He gripped the working line with white knuckles, his feet scrambling uselessly against the slick deck as the force of the wind against the sail tugged him forward. His jaw quaked as he struggled to gulp back tears. “It’s— it’s like it’s chasing us; how’re we supposed to—”

“Should any of you wish to go below, I will not fault you.” Dinesh pushed the helm hard to port, only for a massive wave to push them right back. The gale had torn his hat off long ago and his hair framed his face in wet curls as he glanced back at Bright. “But I will not be complicit in my own death, or yours.”

Bright immediately fell silent, gritting his teeth in determination as he and Roshan gave another fruitless tug at the line. The waves seethed beneath them, and the ship reeled back and forth, battered by the waves below.

“Perfect plans don’t always end in success. But know that you’ve all done perfectly.” Dinesh’s posture was as relaxed as it always was as he turned towards the gale again, but his jaw was set, his voice strained in a way that made Roshan’s heart sink.

He was still and silent for a moment. Lightning flashed erratically behind him, making his silhouette’s movements stutter as he turned back to direct his crew with a flourish of one arm. “Turn into the wind, full tilt. If we can crest the waves and stay afloat, we may just ride this out.” His voice roared over the wailing of the storm. “Back to it! Don’t go down without a fight!”

And so they fought. And so their fight ended in a swift, terrible instant.

Another gust pummeled against them, and the rigging on the mainsail snapped. The sailcloth thrashed through the air and the working line whipped behind it, flinging Bright and Roshan across the deck.

“Bright, Roshan—” Dinesh started, but the two were already scrambling wildly across the deck and back towards the sails. Roshan’s hair stood on end as a crackling sound filled the air, and he skidded to a stop, grabbing the back of Bright’s shirt to pull him away from the mast. A blinding flash of lightning illuminated the dark. The mast shattered in an ear-splitting explosion, and Roshan could see it catch fire for a moment before the rain extinguished it. Debris rained down around them and clattered against the deck. Someone screamed; he couldn’t tell who.

“Don’t panic—” Dinesh’s voice burst out again, cut off suddenly in a strangled sound that made Roshan’s blood go cold. The ship pitched backwards. Lightning strikes lit the sea; not well, but enough to see the that the ocean had spat them out. They were airborne.

They reached their peak and hovered in the air, the storm silent for one terrible moment.

“Fuck,” Dinesh breathed. It was the only time in his life that Roshan had heard his voice waver.

They fell. The sound of the ship meeting the sea was agonizing. It plunged into the water with a boom. The ship groaned under the pressure before it split at the seams, wood slamming against wood, metal, water, bodies. There was a peal of thunder. Roshan’s pulse roared in his ears. There was one final crash as his body plummeted beneath the surface.

Everything blurred. Water churned around him. Beneath the din of the storm and the crash, he could hear his crewmates struggling, screaming. Bright was next to him, scrambling to undo his lifeline, and he rushed to help. They both freed themselves, broke the surface, but another surge separated them and pulled them back under. It was dark, cold, so cold, too dark. Salt stung his eyes and the current battered him, sent him tumbling down – down? Which way was up, now?

He searched for Bright in the chaos. The current had carried the rest of the crew too far for him to help, but Bright had been right there; if he could just reach him, then maybe he could—

Another flash of lightning lit the dark, illuminating movement beneath him. He saw Dinesh below, struggling with his lifeline; it was tangled around one leg, dragging him down, and he flailed, frantically trying to free himself. In his frenzy, he glanced up, caught Roshan’s gaze, jolted. His eyes were bloodshot. He raised his arm, his hand outstretched towards him, desperate and pleading.

The façade crumbled in an instant. Roshan had never once seen Dinesh scared; had never once seen him ask for help; had never so much as seen him flinch. Roshan’s anchor had come unhitched.

He struggled down towards him. They fumbled with the rope and finally managed to wrench Dinesh’s ankle free of his boot, but another swell sent them tumbling again; Dinesh down and Roshan up. Roshan surged back down towards him, reaching for his hand; their fingers brushed and another current pushed them apart.

Roshan bit back a sob – a breath wasted – and glanced above him. The surface was closer than Dinesh. He turned back in time to see Dinesh being steadily pulled deeper by the undertow, clawing at his throat. He was fading.

Roshan’s mind screamed at him, commanded him to help; Dinesh had done so much for him, Roshan owed his life to him, he had to get down there and help him, help him, gods, he needed to help him,but he wanted to fucking live.

He tore his eyes away from the sight. Dinesh had lapsed into unconsciousness and he drifted down without struggle now, though his hand was still reaching for him. Roshan pushed his way upwards, towards what little light broke the surface.

Another current. He was swept along in a flurry of debris and collided with something soft. Bright floated, unconscious, next to him, and he seized him by the back of his collar, dragging him along.

Lightning struck something, too close; the shockwave pulsed through the water and shook his teeth. His eyes unfocused. Refocused. He tried to ignore the pounding in his head and the burning in his lungs as he kicked frantically towards the surface, jerking Bright behind him.

He was dimly aware of something slamming into his head, but the pain that bloomed behind his eyes was vibrant. He flinched, gasped instinctively, gulped in saltwater. When he opened his eyes again he could see tendrils of blood drifting in the water around him. But only for a moment. His vision blurred, doubled, started to fade.

No. No, no, no, not like this. He didn’t want to go like this. He wanted to live, he wanted to live, he wanted to live!

He felt his grip on Bright loosen as his consciousness faded. Something darted in front of him, illuminated in a flicker of light. He inhaled again, and the last thing he was aware of before he lost consciousness was a hand twisting in his collar.

―――――――

Time came in flashes after that. He wasn’t sure in what order.

There was… a fish, maybe. A person who was like a fish. Blue skin. Wide mouth. Fins where most people had ears. They squinted severely in the flashes of lightning, and Roshan faintly noticed them heft his body out of the water.

Roshan found sand underneath him. Raked his fingers through it, rolled over onto it, vomited water all over it, but cold hands guided him, and the sand he collapsed back into was dry.

He caught flickers of the not-a-fish in his few lapses back into consciousness, but they must have gone, eventually. Roshan didn’t see them leave. They were there and then they weren’t.

Roshan’s blood had dried on his face and caked over one eye, and it cracked uncomfortably every time he tried to move. Sand and salt burned his skin. His lungs still felt like they were on fire. He couldn’t get enough air.

There were loud voices. The cadence of shouted instructions was familiar, but he couldn’t pick up the words. He heard the prickling sound of sand spraying beneath sliding footsteps. People were questioning him frantically, prodding at his stinging skin, lifting his aching body, but it all happened in a fog.

He faded into it.

―――――――

A woman came into the room they’d put him in. An infirmary, he assumed. She was an older woman, radiating an air of dignity and a lack of tolerance for nonsense.

“Glad to see you awake.” She pulled up a stool next to his cot and sat, quietly, waiting for him to speak. He avoided eye contact. She didn’t push him; didn’t berate him or invade his space. She just waited. It seemed she was in no rush.

“When did I… get here?” Roshan finally asked, his voice hoarse and his words halting. His gaze remained fixed on the wall next to him.

The woman’s voice was steady. If she had any opinions on Roshan breaking his silence, she didn’t share them. “Five days, now.”

Five days. Those five days were still a blur for him. He vaguely remembered people coming in and out. Tending to him. Asking him questions. He couldn’t remember if he’d answered any, but he didn’t think he had.

“It is nice to know you can speak. You haven’t, since you first woke up.”

“I… have little to say.”

“Is that so?” Her voice was curt, unamused; she crossed her legs at the ankle and folded her hands in her lap. “Not even to answer the questions of those mending your wounds? Trying to help you?” He was still silent. “…are you ungrateful?”

A pang of guilt and grief broke through the numbness that had settled over him and stabbed itself firmly in his chest, cold and sharp. He twisted his hands in the fabric of the thick blanket across his lap, still staring pointedly at the wall. “I…” His voice cracked, and he tried again. “…I’m sorry. I am grateful, and it is not my intention to be rude. I just don’t… remember getting here. Or being here. I…” He raised one shaky hand to gesture at the entirety of himself. He chuckled, but his voice was expressionless. “I believe I may be in shock, as I hope you understand.”

She was silent, and he turned to face her, finally – her expression was blank, impossible to read. He bit at his lower lip, unable to maintain eye contact. “I don’t intend to defend myself beyond that. You all saved my life, and I’m grateful. I will make a better effort.”

She watched him for another long moment. “There are few foolish enough to set foot in the sea.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Yes. I suppose I must count myself among those few. Where am I?”

“Solihal. You washed ashore from the Sea of Omen—”

“Washed? No, I—” He turned to her, hesitated, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “Someone… helped me. Dragged me out of the water. A person who looked… like a… fish.” He realized how it sounded as he spoke, and he shut his mouth, averting his gaze once again.

“I… was told you must’ve hit your head quite hard.” She nearly sounded amused, and looked the part, though her expression flattened again when Roshan reached up to touch his head.

He winced as his fingers brushed over his hairline. The skin there was raised where it had been stitched back together. His touch had been feather-light, but it still throbbed with pain. He remembered the tendrils of blood in the water. “Well! That may explain why I can’t remember much.”

“Yes. Perhaps you imagined this, ah… this fish-man.”

“…yes. Perhaps.” He paused. “You said… Solihal?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve not heard of it. What towns are near here?”

“Cherche is to the south.” He didn’t respond. “Kayenport is to our west.” He still didn’t respond, and she regarded him carefully. “…and the nation of Sherrasol is to our north.” Her voice lilted up at the end, almost a question, but not quite.

Alarm tried to rise in Roshan’s chest with each unrecognizable name she spoke, but it couldn’t break through the haze of shock and pain. It just settled in his stomach uncomfortably. He stared vacantly at the edge of the cot, near her, but not at her. “…we’re not in the Archipelago, are we?”

Comprehension lit in the woman’s eyes. “…I see.” Roshan didn’t move, patiently waiting on her answer. “We’re on the Continent. Am I correct in assuming that you’re, somehow, unfamiliar?”

Roshan was still, except for his fingers curling and uncurling in his robes. He nodded, slowly.

“I see,” she repeated. They sat in silence for a moment, and she leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees. “My name is Kara Turei. I lead Solihal. My people and I will help you, but I ask that you help us in return – once you are able. Is that agreeable?”

“Yes, ma’am; of course. You have my gratitude. Truly.”

“All right. What is your name? If you are to stay here, ‘the stranger’ won’t suffice for long.”

Roshan would later be surprised at the hesitance that gripped him at that question. It welled up and caught in his throat, choking off the sound of his name that was trying to escape.

Bright had told him once that it was common in some cultures to take different names at pivotal points in their lives. An ideal that they embodied, or wanted to embody. Bright hadn’t always been called Bright. He had decided, at a turning point, that he wanted to shine light into the lives of the people around him. He’d chosen to be Bright.

Roshan had made many mistakes. Many poor choices. He’d taken risks he shouldn’t have, he’d put people in danger, his crew had even… Maybe if he’d been more insistent, they wouldn’t be…

Maybe it was better not to be Roshan anymore. Maybe it was better to be a warning.

“‘Stranger.’” Kara regarded him curiously, brow furrowing as she tilted her head towards him. “What should I call you?”

“I’m Oleander,” he finally choked out. “Call me Oleander.”

[superduperinformation]

PREITY ZINTA SHORT BIOGRAPHY

Short Bio Preity Zinta shot to fame as the stimulating, cool, wet model in the Liril commercial. She also modeled for Perk and her dimpled smile won the hearts of millions. Preity noway allowed she’d be an actress. Kapoor saw her in the Liril marketable and liked her so important that he incontinently decided that the coming film he’d advertise would have her in the lead. Still,’Tara Rum Pum’ noway got made and is still pending since the director got veritably busy with his other systems.

But another offer soon came by, Kundan Shah’s Kya Kehna (2000). Though the film was the first, Preity had actually begun shooting for her first release which was Mani Ratnam’s Dil Se. (1998). The film was a megahit which won Preity accolades. Latterly Abbas-Mustan’s Soldier (1998) that too was a megahit at the box- office verified she was then to stay. Though Kya Kehna (2000) was her first film, but it released in 2000 and was the surprise megahit of 2000.

Her part in Dil Chahta Hai (2001) and Dil Hai Tumhara (2002) was appreciated and liked by all and that has made her an actress to reckon with in Bollywood. Her screen presence, charm and down to earth nature has made her the favorite actress of nearly all the directors and directors. With banners and flicks like Rakesh Roshan’s Koi. Mil Gaya (2003) with’Hrithik Roshan’, Nikkhil Advani’s Kal Ho Naa Ho (2003) starring Shah Rukh Khan, Saif Ali Khan, and Jaya Bachchan, Farhan Akhtar’s Lakshya (2004) with Hrithik Roshan and Amitabh Bachchan, Atul Agnihotri’s Dil Ne Jise Apna Kahaa (2004) starring Salman Khan and Bhoomika Chawla, Yash Chopra’s Veer Zaara (2004) with Shah Rukh Khan and Rani Mukerji, Siddharth Anand’s Salaam Namaste (2005) with Saif Ali Khan, and Karan Johar’s Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna (2006) with Shah Rukh Khan, Amitabh Bachchan, Abhishek Bachchan and Rani Mukerji, Preity has formerly made her place in the hearts of the public and also in Bollywood.

Important Information Model and Television anchor Graduated in Psychology Turned down the lead in Marigold (2007). Has won over 4 awards for Kya Kehna (2000) and 7 Awards for Kal Ho Naa Ho (2003). Critics began to take notice of her after her performance in Kya Kehna (2000). Won Best Actress at Stardust Awards for Veer Zaara (2004). She won the IIFA Style Diva Award (2005). Is a major addict of the megahit Television series The Simpsons (1989). Her father, Durganand Zinta was an officer in the Indian Army. Durganand Zinta failed when Preity was thirteen, in a auto accident in which her mama, Nilprabha Zinta was also involved. Her mama was bedridden because of this incident. Has two sisters, Deepanker Zinta and Manish Zinta, a time aged and a time youngish independently. One of her sisters is a commissioned officer in the Indian Army. Has written three columns for BBC South Asia. She joined a group of top stars (Shah Rukh Khan, Rani Mukerji, Saif Ali Khan, Arjun Rampal and Priyanka Chopra Jonas) in the Temptation 2004 musicale, which was a huge transnational success. She hardly escaped death doubly in late 2004, formerly after an explosion at a Temptation musicale in Colombo, and latterly in the Indian Ocean Tsunami. Appeared in Manish Malhotra fashion show Freedom (2006). In May 2006, along with Karan Johar she entered an assignation to represent Bollywood at the Cannes Film Festival. They took this occasion to promote the film Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna (2006). When not shooting she used to return to her home city Shimla. She lately moved into her own home in Mumbai, which she bought inmid-2005. Her good musketeers in the assiduity include Shah Rukh Khan and his woman Gauri Khan, Abhishek Bachchan, Bobby Deol, Aishwarya Rai Bachchan and Saif Ali Khan. Veritably close musketeers with actor Hrithik Roshan and his woman’Suzanne Khan’. Listed# 41 by UK magazine Eastern Eye one of”Asia’s Sexiest Women” (Sept/ 2006). After the release of”Prem Aggan”Partho Gosh had inked Fardeen Khan and Preity Zinta for a film named”Chaiyaan Chaiyaan”. He decided to defer the film a time latterly. Bastard Maya Zinta debuted in Ishkq In Paris. Feroz Khan had inked Preity Zinta for the Hindi remake of Tamil film”Kaaka Kaaka”. He was going to produce the film with son Fardeen Khan in the lead. After his demise, Fardeen gave the remake rights to Vipul Shah who made the film as”Force”. Starred in Shekhar Kapur’s shelved film”Mantra” (2004), directed by VishalBhardwaj.Hrithik Roshan was approached for the supereminent part but declined. Was involved with T Series proprietor Kishen Kumar in 1997. She has noway acted in a Tamil film ahead, though some of her flicks like her debut film (Dil Se. (1998)) and her Telugu film (Raja Kumarudu (1999)) were dubbed in Tamil. She was offered some Tamil flicks but rejected them because she wasn’t familiar with that language.

Particular Information I lost my father when I was 13- times-old. He was a great man, my father, and veritably intelligent. I love him veritably much. I believe it’s veritably important that parents have a particular connection with their children. It helps kiddies feel more secure, have a feeling of family, makes them feel loved. Whenever I came across commodity that told me, I wanted to be that. So it varied from an astronaut, airhostess, army girl, to truck motorist. Formerly, I wanted to be a nun-my mama wanted me to change seminaries after that. I’m single and desperately looking for a good man in my life. I did have major crushes when I was youngish but no serious relationship. I want to bring a change and do commodity new and different in my profession, but in the morning I will have to toe line, I want to be known as a pantomime not a star. I’m proud to be part of moment’s Bollywood. I love dancing and lip synching to our songs. To act, you must know pain. You must know what it means to be in love, what it means to be rejected. You know what is the worst part about being an actress? It’s the pressure to look gorgeous all the time and to bear impeccably. But I am not perfect, nothing is. Amusement can truly take a risk on your jitters. I mean we’ve to be larger than life. Worse, I have seen actors acting off the sets too. On the changing face of Indian cinema”At one time I wondered if I was doing the right flicks, moment I know I’ve made the right choices. Indian cinema is changing, not step by step but by hops. New blood is coming in, mindsets are changing and our exposure to the world is ever- adding. I’m glad these positive changes are passing when I’m in the assiduity and not ten times from now.” On love at first sight”It’s superficial to fall in love with someone looking at their face. To me I need to discover the person. I would noway look at someone and ejaculate-He’s the one!” Love is always real and true love is indeed further real!

She’s veritably notorious because of his dimple.