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deathstroke-the-himbonator · 5 years ago

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this is a weird af question i'm sure but what would the avatar kids be like if they hadn't ran away to the institute/not realized how messed up their upbringings were?

Oooooooo, now THIS will be fun to answer ((tbh, this has been on my mind for awhile now, so thanks for the excuse to infodump))!!! I’m gonna try doing stuff for ALL the kids, but it’ll be a bit hard considering the fact that most of them are so unlikely to actually submit to their avatardom.

Jonathan Sims: His destiny is a bit of a toss-up, since it depends on which of his parents’ teachings he would end up following. If he takes more after Elias, he’ll end up becoming the perfect Eye avatar anyone could ask for; an endless slew of information and knowledge, not to mention loyal to his patron and his father. If he ends up following in Gertrude’s footsteps though, he’ll use his powers much more sparingly as he grows older and be about 40% more likely to get arrested for arson.

Martin Blackwood: This is going off of the idea that the Lonely’s first big ritual involving him actually worked, otherwise the only other option would’ve been Peter not rescuing him, in which case he would’ve disappeared forever into the fog. In this scenario however, the Lonely accepts Martin as a more physical vessel for itself, and he continues on as a more or less lifeless husk that just swallows everything in it’s sight. Very sad all around.

Tim Stoker: In the event that he never runs away, Tim would complete his training as a dancer and allow the circus to change him into something barely resembling a human anymore (I haven’t actually listened to much of The Mechanisms, but maybe he’d look something like the Tim toy soldier guy??? I like him). He's Danny’s right hand man, as well as the circus’ muscle when things get particularly dicey.

Danny Stoker: He would’ve ended up very spoiled and damn near as conniving as Sasha; takes a lot after Nikola and makes her proud at every opportunity, making him a bit of a mama’s boy. Would be an incredible ringmaster, praying primarily on those attending the circus with their family members (especially sets of siblings). Becomes much more powerful overtime, almost completely growing into a monster in the process.

Sasha James: An absolute master of manipulation and trickery, using her hacking skills to start the Web down a path of internet fraud and impersonation on a massive scale. Ends up being rivals with Eye!Jon, leading to them having a very Spy vs Spy dynamic that’s this close to them becoming friends, but alas, their parents hate each other and they know it. Ten times smarter than anyone else belonging to the Web.

Melanie King: Say hello to Grifter’s Bone’s new lead bassist and singer! She takes up the mantle by the time she’s thirteen or so, putting a more young punk spin on the band’s music, which draws in younger victims for the Slaughter’s influence. Has a thousand something knives on her at one time, and has a hard time not joining in on the riots the band starts.

Julia Montauk: In the event that Trevor can’t keep her from succumbing to the Hunt’s influence, she becomes a brutal, violent creature that stays primarily in her Hunt form, only turning human when she wants to draw out a hunt/trick people into thinking she’s one of them. If things go really bad, she ends up killing Trevor at some point to prove she’s stronger than him (and immediately regretting it).

Alice “Daisy” Tonner: I feel like her fall would be similar to canon, with either Trevor never finding her, which leads her to follow her canon path, or she joins Julia in fighting back against Trevor’s desire to save them, eventually running away to hunt on her own and become a fully fledged werewolf. Unlike Julia, she never turns human after a certain point, and eventually she goes on to kill Julia after she crosses into her territory.

Oliver Banks: I honestly have very few ideas on how he would end up in this sort of AU, seeing as he’s kinda already on a path that’s very aligned with the End’s influence, but if he completely gave in and did whatever it wanted, he’d probably become something akin to a grim reaper, stalking people in their dreams and making sure they’ll die the way they’re fated to. Might take an apprenticeship under Nathaniel Throp.

Georgie Barker: Similar to Oliver, I’m not 100% sure what to do for her. I feel like the Admiral is what’s keeping her from falling, so without him she’d definitely become a completely fearless and relentless avatar of the End, carrying out similar death sentences to Oliver, except she actually makes more people die than is necessary. If Jon follows Gertrude’s teachings in this scenario, then he starts trying to help her escape her powers.

Mike Crew: He’s kinda already becoming a fully fledged avatar of the Vast, but like Oliver, I can see him going further than he has. He’d be almost exactly like his canon self, except he’d have a much harder time blending in with modern society, relying on his connection to Simon and the rest of the Fairchild family for help getting by. If he ended up getting abandoned though, he might become more lonely over time... 👀👀👀 Martin could certainly use a “friend”

Helen Richardson: Seeing as Michael and Gertrude finding her is what’s essentially saved her already (I imagine she’ll still have Spiral powers for the rest of her life, but she could never become an avatar later on in the CA AU while she’s being raised by Michael), in this scenario she’s never rescued, and she either dies in the Spiral due to neglect, or she becomes similar to Martin, acting as a mere vessel for her patron.

Jane Prentiss: I’m still a bit iffy on how to write Jane, seeing as I added her after the AU was already kinda started (and also because I don’t remember much about her from S1), but I imagine without Adelard saving her, she would’ve eventually left Amherst to be raised by the Corruption in a more direct fashion, making her like Helen and Martin, but with more free will than them.

So all in all, Jon vs Sasha would be a big conflict with the Stoker Brothers occasionally getting involved just so they can Cause Problems On Purpose, Martin, Helen, and Jane are the resident “ghosts” that haunt everyone, Julia and Daisy are feral, Mike can’t cope with this shit, Georgie and Oliver are essentially grim reapers, and Melanie is the only motherfucker having any fun.

These are some very sad/unfortunate scenarios, huh? At least this is all speculative and in no way canon to the CA AU as a whole; it’s just a fun lil’ idea to think about! Thanks so much for the ask, Anon!

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ceescedasticity · 4 years ago

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a terrible, terrible idea I will not be finishing

TMA SBURB session scenario

The setup is that somehow, one of the current main character survivors finds out about SBURB, and comes up with an outlandish plan to force a session and drag the fears into the Incipisphere, thus leaving Earth to return to its original state. Pretend this is a feasible plan. Pretend it comes with a good plan to keep the Reckoning from destroying Earth immediately after it's restored.

The fears aren't going to be naturally inclined to go to the Incipisphere. It has a very low population — I'd be surprised if carapacians and consorts together topped a hundred thousand, though if you count underlings that's probably at least doubled — and even setting that aside some fears are just not well-represented. It's a very sterile place. So, the plan is to fill the "player" positions with people who can provide anchors for the fears and drag them into the Incipisphere, too. Pretend this makes sense.

(That puts us at over twelve players in a session, so I'll be using some original classes and aspects.)

The necessary qualifications for "players" are that they (1) are well-marked but not overwhelmed, (2) can be convinced to cooperate, and (3) are… accessible. Obviously live people are most accessible, but most live people are either overwhelmed and most of the rest are Avatars who are… actually they could also be described as overwhelmed, just in a different way. And the Incipisphere does have that little "dreamself" mechanism, so if they (read: Jon) have a sufficient... trace on a person (read: direct statement, Archive contract, accumulation of indirect statements, or some weird stuff), they can toss them straight into their dreamself, thus reviving them, possibly closer to human than they were before. (Or possibly creating a functionally identical copy. Hopefully no one asks.) Pretend this makes sense, too.

(They didn't attempt to exert any control over which moon people got, or which 'role'.)

Also benefiting from a dreamself: Jon, who barely survived the gross overextension of his powers figuring out how to do this and pulling in the "players" but just dropped upon entering the actual Incipisphere. He's now definitely in pre-coma condition and possibly even more regressed; he's been too disoriented to do much experimenting.

Melanie agreed to be the primary anchor for Slaughter because it's one of the stronger fears in the Incipisphere (the Battlefield and Prospit-Derse war in general mean the carapacians tend to be a good source for it) so they need someone trustworthy in the position. She's monitoring herself VERY carefully. She's also a secondary anchor for Beholding, but there's not any shortage there anyway. Her role according to the Incipisphere is Mage of Breath, Prospit dreamer, Land of Reeds and Whistles.

Georgie can't really anchor anything but End. Which is fine because it's also a fear native to the Incipisphere, and the only one that's a conceivable flight risk since the horrorterrors aren't afraid of anything else. Her mythological role is Sylph of Time, Derse dreamer, Land of Knells and Echoes.

Martin is the primary anchor for the Extinction, which may be a bit player as far as the entities are concerned but which is deeply engraved in the Incipisphere what with the Reckoning and everything. He's a secondary anchor for the Lonely as well as Beholding. His role is Rogue of Blood, Prospit dreamer, Land of Smoke and Craters.

Jon is the primary anchor for Beholding and a secondary anchor for pretty much everything else. (Beholding isn't a major concern for the Incipisphere's natives, but it's a potential issue for players, depending on their awareness.) He hasn't been needing statements, which he hopes is because he's regressed past the need for them, but which is actually because his Aspect is standing in for them. His role is Prince of Light, Prospit dreamer, Land of Sand and Searchlights.

Basira is the primary anchor for the Dark (since Beholding is taken). It's of middling strength, more than Beholding but much less than Slaughter or End; you get some Prospitians and consorts scared of the dark, but usually it's the least of everyone's worries. Her role is Maid of Mind, Prospit dreamer, Land of Pitch and Frames.

Annabelle Cane probably would agree to participate, but no one trusts either her or their own ability to manage her. Mikaele Salesa wouldn't want to interrupt his retirement, and if coerced he might sabotage things. Uh… that Jordan Kennedy ECDC fellow still seemed to have his head on fairly straight, right? He can anchor Corruption. (All of Corruption's strength in the Incipisphere is built on Dersite revulsion for amphibians.) His role is Page of Fire, Derse dreamer, Land of Toads and Hellbenders. (Did I mention how reliant Corruption is on Dersites and amphibians just now.)

At this point we have exhausted our living candidates. So: cast some dead people as players, force their dreamselves to form, maybe give them a nightmare about the post-Change world so they understand what's at stake, and wake them up.

The remaining fears that are really seriously strong in the Incipisphere are the Hunt (players hunt underlings hunt consorts) and the Desolation (meteors and RED MILES).

The Hunt goes to Daisy, who has been rebooted to mostly human in her dreamself and is unsurprisingly very shaken up about everything, but at least she knew about the Change (though she doesn't remember clearly). She's a secondary anchor for both Buried and Beholding. Her role is Haunt of Heart, Prospit dreamer, Land of Tracks and Traces.

Desolation goes to Tim, who is... not thrilled to be alive and conscripted again. He's somewhat mollified by it at least DEFINITELY not being more of the SAME bullshit. He's a secondary anchor for Beholding and Stranger. His role is Heir of Rage, Prospit dreamer, Land of Stone and Ashes. (He really likes the sound of Heir of Rage but isn't about to admit it.)

Stranger goes to Sasha, who is having an odd time of it. A lot of the background information everyone else knows already is new to her, and bringing her up to speed is extra work, but Jon and Martin were feeling sentimental and everyone agreed she'd be a stabilizing influence on Tim. She has MOST of her memories. People have MOST of their memories of her. (The Stranger isn't particularly strong in the Incipisphere because the locals are predisposed to accept any kind of weirdness from players without being bothered. Everything is familiar to them, no matter how strange it should seem.) She's a secondary anchor for Beholding and Spiral. Sasha's role is Clerk of Doom, Prospit dreamer, Land of Masks and Music.

Since the game prefers an even number of players, and it's already established the fourteen/fifteen don't REALLY cover everything, it's more complicated than that, maybe include an anchor for 'Unclassifiable'. Give that one to Gerry. (Jon can't decide whether he should feel guilty about this; Gerry wanted an end, but this definitely isn't life as a book.) (For his part Gerry is in 'this might as well happen' mode.) Gerry's role is Knight of Grief, Derse dreamer, Land of Tomes and Boxes.

The Incipisphere's natives aren't automatically AWARE of being steered, but they are; players always have their options restricted by alpha timeline bullshit; this particular group of players mostly got thrown into it without asking them so may be even more aware of their lack of control. All of which is to say the Web is not particularly weak and they need a trustworthy anchor. They settled on Gertrude and still aren't sure whether it was a good idea. What she thinks of it she isn't saying. Her role is Seer of Space, Prospit dreamer, Land of Webs and Frogs.

To everyone's surprise, Gertrude apparently came with a bonus Agnes. Possibly because they were leaning on her Web connections? Who knows? They set her to anchor Lonely, because even though she never had room for any marks but Desolation before she was definitely lowercase-L lonely. Agnes's role is Witch of Void, Derse dreamer, Land of Smog and Drizzle.

(At this point someone finally figures out lunar alignment is apparently being determined by whether someone has ever signed a contract with the Archives.)

The Vast goes to Adelard Dekker. Vast isn't among the strongest of the entities in the Incipisphere, but there's space involved and theoretically an entire universe, so it has definite potential and needs to be anchored by someone who won't go out of control with it. Adelard's role is Count of Hope, Derse dreamer, Land of Stars and Stairs.

That just leaves Buried, Flesh, and Spiral. None of them are particularly strong in the Incipisphere — you might think the Spiral would be, but SBURB does have its own rules.

For the Spiral, the main thing is they don't want the Distortion. They could try for non-Distortion Helen Richardson, or even non-Distortion Michael Shelley, but if something went wrong then they'd have the Distortion alive again and who knows what would happen. So… uh… hmmm… Oh, Mike Crew had a prolonged Spiral problem! He might not be very happy with the because of�� everything, but he could probably be talked into cooperating for his own benefit, right? So he's reluctantly anchoring Spiral, because it's supposed to be temporary, he wants to live, and at least that stupid Lichtenberg figure hasn't showed up. He's also more human than he's used to. His role is Bard of Stone, Derse dreamer, Land of Mazes and Ravines.

And as long as they're giving second chances to dead avatars who probably don't deserve them but who did start out as traumatized children, what about Julia Montauk? She could maybe anchor the Flesh — there were those beating hearts in the shed, and she probably ran into more while Hunting… Okay, Flesh. She's not super happy about the Flesh thing but is more disoriented by being much less Hunter than she has been in years. Her role is Ghoul of Life, Derse dreamer, Land of Ribs and Regrowth.

And finally… okay, they're going to throw Buried at Jurgen Leitner. He's probably marked by about everything, and he was "buried" in the tunnels for years. It's fine. His role is Thief of Strange, Derse dreamer, Land of Pits and Dust.

How does it all turn out in the end? Who knows. Almost certainly no worse than canon will.

#crossover classpects #crossover classpect #not my medium not my genre #i just read the fic and then i get ideas and then next thing i know #i've written 2000 words of this nonsense #not next thing i know it's eaten up my entire evening #ENOUGH

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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years ago

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

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Chapter 20: Jon Prime

Jon had been worried, before they had come back in time, about how well he would adjust to being in the past, pre-Apocalypse. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle the lessened level of terror, or the need to eat and sleep completely again, or being, essentially, less than he’d been, or for that matter the urge to storm the Institute and throttle Jonah Magnus in his office. He’d fretted about a lot of things.

As it turned out, none of them were things he needed to fret about.

His body reacclimated to human needs quickly enough, and it actually felt kind of good to feel the rumble of hunger or the drag of exhaustion again. It was definitely good to get back to cooking, which he’d sorely missed doing even if it felt odd to be cooking for more than himself and Martin. Martin had been right about his statement fueling Jon for a while, and his younger counterpart had taken to bringing home any real statements he came across; it was enough. And with Martin there, he didn’t feel less.

As for storming the Institute, that urge had been surprisingly easy to resist. Tim had managed to convince them to stay at his house longer by asking them to keep an eye on Past Martin while he healed. His excuse had been that Jon knew what Past Martin was going through and Martin knew what his past self was like, so they could keep him from doing anything stupid. Jon guessed there was more to it than that, but he didn’t want to pry into anyone’s minds, so he just let it go and agreed. It seemed simpler.

Martin had adapted well, too. Granted, he’d still been human—as far as Jon knew—before they came back, and he’d had two weeks to adjust to being blind before they were reunited, but he’d picked up on the cane Tim bought him fairly quickly. He didn’t seem to need it around the house, though, and when Jon questioned him about that, Martin said that he had a pretty good sense of direction when the world makes sense, Jon. And, honestly, Jon couldn’t argue with that. Tim spent a Sunday afternoon reorganizing his cupboards, then showed Martin where everything was so he could feel more independent in the kitchen while Jon watched from the doorway with a grin.

Past Martin got stronger by the day. At first, he mostly slept, which was fine with Jon, since it meant he could spend time with Martin and not feel guilty. He’d accidentally fallen asleep with his head on Martin’s lap one afternoon and woken to soft laughter, which is how he found out that Past Martin and Past Jon had apparently discussed things and Sasha was the only member of what Tim insisted on referring to as Team Archives who didn’t know they were together. After that, they’d dropped the pretense and just been themselves. It had been a huge relief to Jon. It had also been a relief—and a surprise—that Tim didn’t tease them mercilessly, but when he mentioned that to Martin, Martin just laughed and shook his head.

They’d all fallen into an easy domesticity. It was honestly the most surreal thing Jon had experienced in probably his entire life. Sasha and Past Jon were still staying with Tim—Jon had no idea what argument Tim had used on them, but it seemed to be working—and Jon delighted in watching the three of them, together with Past Martin, draw closer together into a cohesive unit that would be harder for Jonah to manipulate. Often, he would come out of the spare room from recording a statement, tape recorder in hand, to find them sharing stories or playing games and laughing. Some nights he joined in on the games, too, but mostly he just sat back with Martin and watched, grinning.

There were arguments. Of course there were arguments. They were all human beings with their own personalities and quirks. Nothing was going to be perfect harmony. Thankfully, they were usually made up fairly quickly. It felt like home, in a way, something Jon hadn’t experienced in he didn’t know how long. He knew it couldn’t last, but he was determined to enjoy it while he could.

Several weeks passed like that. Jon could see the signs that Past Martin was getting restless and impatient to be back at work—he listened hungrily to the team’s tales of what they’d been up to, ventured tentative suggestions on avenues of research or possible connections they might have missed—but he was, ultimately, a far better patient than Jon had been. Not that that was difficult.

As Past Martin’s recovery progressed, the three of them began taking walks in the afternoon, Jon letting the two Martins go ahead of him and following just behind. Partly it was that there really wasn’t room for them to walk three abreast, but mostly it was him giving them the opportunity to see what they were capable of on their own while he watched their backs, literally. At first they were slow circuits of a single block, and then Past Martin needed to sit down for quite a while, but within a couple of weeks he was walking easily and seemed almost back to normal. The scars healed better than they had for Jon, partly because Martin’s skin was fairer than Jon’s but mostly because Past Martin was better about both following doctor’s orders and not picking at the healing wounds. Tim’s had healed about the same, Jon remembered, a thought which still sent a lance of melancholy through him. And finally, the day came when he returned triumphantly from a check-up with the news that he’d been cleared to return to work that Monday.

“We’ll be glad to have you back,” Past Jon said sincerely, actually smiling in a way Jon couldn’t remember smiling until the too-brief time he and Martin had had in Scotland. “It’s all kind of…I won’t lie, it’s odd to sit around and keep working like nothing has changed. Like we don’t know what’s going on. But we’ve managed. There’s a lot more than can be easily done with three, though.”

“I’ll do whatever you need,” Past Martin promised. “God, it’ll feel good to get back into things.”

“Kind of surprised you didn’t try to get us to let you come back earlier, actually,” Tim teased him. “Don’t think none of us saw you chomping at the bit.”

Past Martin gestured to Jon and Martin. “They wouldn’t let me bring it up.”

“How long did you wait before going back?” Past Jon asked.

Jon grimaced. “A month. I should have stayed out longer, to be honest, and I ended up needing substantial physical therapy. But I was already obsessing over who killed Gertrude Robinson, and I didn’t handle being alone with my thoughts very well. Tim was out longer.”

“How long?” Tim asked curiously.

“Eight weeks, give or take.”

“So we can be away from the Institute? I thought you said…” Tim trailed off.

Jon paused, knife suspended over the cutting board. “I—I never thought of that. God, how did I not think of that? Our Tim seemed fine when he first came back, and he never said anything, but…”

“You can be away from the Institute, just not for good,” Martin said. “When you’re out…convalescing, that’s one thing. Even if you’re on an extended vacation, that should be okay. It’s if you try to leave, if you just up and walk away with the idea that you won’t be back, that you’ll have problems. As long as you really intend to come back at some point, it’s fine.”

Jon turned around and stared at Martin. “How long have you known that?”

“Since Elias told us we were trapped there?”

“My God, that was…” Jon rubbed his temple with his free hand. “Why didn’t you say anything? And please don’t say ‘it never really came up.’”

Martin actually smiled at that. “Honestly, Jon, I assumed you knew. I mean, you were away for ages, and I know Basira kept going off on…excursions. She might not have been gone long, but I just…I thought you’d figured it out. Especially when nothing really happened to us in Scotland.”

Jon hadn’t thought about that, either. But yes, at the time they had meant to go back to the Institute eventually, hadn’t they? Or maybe the Eye had let them go because it knew what Jonah was plotting. Either way, Martin was right, he really ought to have figured that out sooner.

He sighed, turning back to his meal prep. “I can, as we have established, be a bit oblivious at times.”

Sasha gave an overly-dramatic gasp. “You? Never.”

“Oh, shut up,” Past Jon grumbled.

Tim snickered. “Hey, does that mean you two have to come back to the Institute, too?”

“That’s…more complicated.” Jon scraped the contents of the cutting board into the pot. “I’m bound closely enough to the Eye that I’m not…dependent on the Institute, I don’t think? As long as I’m taking statements, feeding the Eye, I’m fine. I believe. And Martin is cut off from the Eye entirely. But it’s a rather moot point, as we intend to move into the tunnels beneath the Institute anyway.”

“You can’t seriously be planning to do that,” Tim protested. “Come on, they can’t be comfortable—”

“They aren’t. But that’s not the point, Tim.” Jon sighed and reached for the spices he’d selected. “We are putting you in very real danger by being here. Besides, we’re not in a position to assist like we would be if we were closer to the Institute. I don’t particularly like them, but it’s the best option for everyone.”

Tim reached past Jon to get plates out of the cupboard, his expression mulish. Jon braced himself for whatever arguments Tim might throw his way and resolutely shut his mind against prying for it, but before he could say anything, Past Martin came up and put a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“You can’t fix everything, Tim,” he said quietly. “And I know that’s rich, coming from me, but…we have to trust them. It’s not like we won’t ever see them again if they’re not living under your roof.”

Tim’s shoulders slumped. Jon caught his eye and offered him a smile. “It’s certainly no reflection on you, Tim. It’s just…we need to do this. I desperately need you to trust us.”

“I can give you that.” Tim managed a smile in reply, then turned to set the table. “You’re not planning to move in tonight, though, right?”

Jon was about to answer, then froze as a rumble of thunder sounded from outside. It was low and gentle, but the sound sent a shudder of horror running down his spine that he couldn’t explain. He had to stand, perfectly still, until the sound stopped.

“No,” he said as soon as he felt able. “Not tonight.”

He went back to what he was doing, or tried to, but there was obviously a storm building, and the next peal of thunder brought his breath up short. The spoon slipped out of his hand and into the pot.

“Are you okay?” Sasha’s voice seemed to be coming from a long way away.

“Fine,” Jon lied automatically. Really, this was ridiculous. There was no reason for this. Thunderstorms had never bothered him before; why were they suddenly an issue now? He retrieved the spoon and returned to cooking.

The others shifted the discussion to the logistics of smuggling Jon and Martin into the Institute and the tunnels beneath them without being spotted. Since Martin was already explaining about the other entrances, Jon didn’t feel the need to jump in. They would still need to figure out which entrance to use, or find one in the first place, and how to get there surreptitiously, but at least there were options beyond “hope to avoid the cameras mounted around the Institute when sneaking into the Archives and subsequently into the tunnels”. That would be the fastest way to tip Jonah off that something was going on.

Another roll of thunder sounded from almost directly overhead—not a sharp crack, but a long, rumbling bass growl. Jon felt it to his core, and he gasped, leaning over to catch himself against the counter. Suddenly he was in the spare room in the cabin in Scotland, the words being torn from his throat against his will: I…OPEN…THE DOOR!

“Whoa!” someone shouted.

“Shit, that’s—how is he—” someone else stammered.

“Get his hand off the burner!”

“Jon! Jon, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here.”

Something brushed against him, and he jerked away, but then a hand wrapped around his arm and tugged him away from the counter, and then someone was wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. There was a confused babble of voices around him, but Jon couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t focus on anything but the thunder and the static filling his mind and the fact that for some reason his hand hurt, why did his hand hurt…

“Jon,” the voice said again in his ear, and it was Martin’s voice, he sounded upset, he sounded scared, and Jon couldn’t let him be scared but didn’t know how to fix it, so he looked up desperately and saw Martin’s face close to his. “Come on, let’s go in the other room, it’s okay. Come on, I’ve got you. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Jon couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. He just let Martin lead him out of the room they were in and into another, keeping his eyes fixed on Martin the whole time, and then they were sitting on something and Martin pulled Jon into his arms, onto his lap, and wrapped him up securely. One hand came up to cup the back of his head, the other rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles.

“I’m here, Jon,” Martin murmured, his voice low and gentle despite crackling with emotion. “You’re here. We’re both here and we’re safe. We’re in London. The world isn’t ending, Jon. You didn’t end the world. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

How, the small part of Jon that wasn’t numb with terror thought, did Martin always seem to know the right thing to say? It was a ridiculous thought, of course; Martin didn’t always know the right thing to say, any more than Jon did, and they’d had more than a few arguments over one of them saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But when it was a situation like this, when Jon panicked or got lost in his own head or was hurting, Martin always seemed to come up with the right words. Jon fisted his hands into Martin’s shirt and buried his face in his chest, focusing on the heartbeat that always soothed him when things got too bad. One of his hands, in a distant way, hurt, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t.

Of course the world wasn’t ending. It couldn’t be. How could the world end with Martin there? That was just ridiculous. If the world ended, he’d be all alone.

“You’re not alone, Jon,” Martin said, and shit, had he said that out loud? “I’m here. I will always be here. I won’t ever leave you. I promise. I’m here. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” Jon whispered. The words felt raw in his throat, but it felt good to say them. He whispered them again and again, and Martin whispered them back to him. They passed the words back and forth, you’re here, I’m here, you’re here, and slowly, slowly, Jon felt the terror recede.

The storm didn’t lessen. If anything, it got worse, but oddly, that helped, too. The sharper the thunder got, the calmer Jon grew. A mighty thunderclap rattled the windows, and the power went out, making someone yelp from the other room, but Jon was able to take his first full breath. He slowly eased his grip on Martin’s shirt and sagged against him with a heavy sigh.

“Better?” Martin asked, rubbing his back.

“A little.” Jon tilted his head back and rested his chin on Martin’s chest, looking up at him. There was only the barest amount of light in the room, but it was enough to see the outline of his boyfriend’s face by. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Martin pressed a light kiss to Jon’s forehead. “How’s your hand?”

“Hmm?” Jon became aware that his hand still hurt a lot. He eased it away from Martin and stared at it. It was red, almost raw, and he could see a couple of blisters on the palm that had miraculously remained intact, despite the grip he’d had on Martin’s shirt. “Oh. I—did I put it on the stove?”

“Apparently. Let me see.”

Jon managed a smile. He turned his hand over, palm up, and laid it in Martin’s. Martin hovered his thumb just over the top of Jon’s palm. “It’s still warm. Hold on, let me go find out what Tim’s got in that medicine cabinet of his.”

“Plenty,” a voice said from the doorway. Jon started, then relaxed when he realized it was his own voice, and that was still weird to hear. He looked up to see Past Jon coming in, a torch in one hand and a small handful of supplies in the other. “I was going to just leave it on the table for you, but…”

“Thank you,” Jon said sincerely. He didn’t leave the comfort of Martin’s embrace, though. The panic had left him a bit shaky and he wasn’t sure he could really sit up on his own, but more than that, he honestly didn’t give a damn if it made him look weak to lean on Martin. That was part of what love was, right?

Past Jon set the things in his hands on the table, then lined them up. “Cool compress, lotion, gauze, bandages. Paracetamol on the end if you need it for the pain. I—do you need a spare hand?”

“We’ve got it, but thank you,” Martin said. He picked up the compress, then pressed it gently to Jon’s hand. It was obvious he’d done this before, in some capacity.

Past Jon nodded and straightened, then hesitated before leaving the room. Awkwardly, he asked, “Can I…are you sure you’re okay? That looked a lot like, well, a panic attack.”

“It was,” Jon said softly. He hesitated, looking up into Martin’s eyes. Even though he knew Martin wasn’t really looking back at him per se, that he couldn’t actually see him, he could feel his attention, and they’d learned in the last few weeks that they knew each other well enough that they could still communicate wordlessly, to an extent. Turning back to his past self, he explained, “It was—the last thunderstorm I remember came up while I was reading…Jonah’s monologue.”

Past Jon flinched. “Ah. Well, I’ll, erm…I’ll leave you to that, then.” He gestured at the supplies and retreated back to the kitchen.

Jon and Martin sat in silence for a long moment. Martin kept applying pressure to the compress on Jon’s hand, his other hand securely supporting it, keeping it elevated. At last, Jon said, “I—I never asked if it was actually storming. That day. If it was…real thunder I heard or if it was just…the impending end of the world.”

“It was. I was on my way back. At first I thought I’d grab an umbrella, but then I thought…I thought I’d just stay downstairs until you finished your statement, then bring you a cup of tea or something. And then…” Martin trailed off and shook his head.

Jon bit his lip. “At least you made it back before…the Door Opened.”

“No, Jon,” Martin said softly. “I didn’t. I was still a good five minutes’ walk from the safe house when it happened.” He tried to laugh. “Ordinarily, anyway. I ran, as soon as I realized…I don’t know that I realized what exactly was going on, but I knew it was bad, and I knew that it was probably coming after you.”

“My God, Martin.” Horror ran through Jon’s body, and he reached out with his free hand to grip Martin’s shirt again.

“Hey, careful, I need room to work.”

“You were outside when—you c-could have been killed. God, I could have lost you and—”

“But you didn’t,” Martin reminded him. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Jon’s for a moment. “I’m here, Jon. You’re here. We’re both here. We survived the end of the world. We made it. Together.”

Jon took a deep, steadying breath. “Maybe one day it won’t be so hard to remember that.”

“Well, I’ll always be here to remind you.” Martin straightened up and lifted the compress, then checked the heat of his palm and set the compress aside.

Jon glanced at the next item on the table and grimaced. “Of course the next step is lotion.”

“Do you want to do it yourself?” Martin asked. “You’ve got to keep things from drying out, but…I understand if someone else rubbing it in might be a bit much.”

At least that was something Jon had known he had an issue with before. Just not something he’d thought he would ever have to think about. He started to say yes, then shook his head, despite knowing Martin couldn’t see him. “No. No, will—will you do it? Please? I trust you.”

Martin’s face softened. They both knew what Jon was asking for. “Of course, Jon.”

He poured a little bit of the lotion into Jon’s hand. Jon tried hard not to flinch at the feel of it pooling into his cupped palm. Martin replaced the cap and set the bottle back on the table, nearly missing it, then took Jon’s hand and began gently massaging the lotion into it. Jon focused on Martin’s face and tried to regulate his breathing.

“Tell me something,” Martin requested abruptly.

Jon cocked his head, slightly off-balance. “What?”

“Anything. Your favorite play, your earliest childhood memory, your most embarrassing uni story. Anything.”

“O-oh, okay,” Jon said, surprised. He tried to think for a moment. “Ah—I’ve always been fond of The Duchess of Padua.”

Martin smiled encouragingly. “Yeah? I don’t know that one. Tell me about it.”

Jon launched into an explanation of the plot. The more into it he got, the more wildly he gesticulated with the hand Martin wasn’t attending to. Martin listened to Jon ramble the way he always did, with a smile and a look of genuine interest as Jon went on about a topic he knew nothing about and honestly didn’t care all that much about. He’d even told Jon, simultaneously not long ago and an eternity ago, that he’d always hated the theater, yet here he was letting Jon describe in technical detail the plot of a play he’d had no good reason to fall in love with.

“—staged very often, or studied for that matter, but I always thought it was fascinating,” he concluded with a sigh. “I actually rose a bit in a professor’s esteem because I used that one as the basis for our term paper on one of Wilde’s works rather than The Importance of Being Ernest or The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

“Yeah, I know how that goes. Best grade I ever got in school was on a paper I wrote on The Ballad of Reading Gaol.” Martin set something on the coffee table. “How’s that?”

“I—” Jon looked down at his hand. The lights were still out, but his eyes had adjusted, and he could see the stark white bandage looped neatly around his hand, securing the gauze without being too tight. “Oh. You’re done.” He gave his boyfriend a slightly accusing look. “You were distracting me.”

“You were panicking,” Martin told him. He wrapped both arms around Jon again. “I really was listening, though. I love listening to you talk about something you know a lot about. Or even something you’re just pretending you know a lot about.”

“Hey,” Jon protested, but without any real heat. He tucked his head into the crook of Martin’s neck and sighed, curling into him. “Thank you. For taking care of me. For knowing me so well. For being here.”

“Where else would I be?” Martin kissed the crown of his head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

How many times had they passed those words back and forth, Jon wondered? He could probably Know the exact number, with a little effort, but it didn’t matter, because it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. They could say it with every breath they had left from now until the end of time, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Jon had made a vow, kneeling in the remains of what had once been his boss’s office and pressing futilely against the gaping wounds in Martin’s chest, that he would never leave an opportunity to say them unsaid. They didn’t need to say it for each other to know, but it was important to Jon that they did. And while Martin never said as much, Jon knew it reassured him to hear confirmation every once in a while.

They sat in silence for a while, Jon letting Martin’s presence and the secure feel of his embrace soothe away the last of his lingering terror, or at least his lingering immediate terror. The fear would never go away completely. He’d grown to accept that. But at least now it was just the usual hum of background terror that was his everyday life, rather than the sharp, immediate panic of a flashback. Here with Martin, he was as safe as he ever could be.

At last, he sighed. “We should probably go back into the other room before the others eat everything.”

“I’m sure they saved us some,” Martin said. “But sure. You’ll have to get up first.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re sitting on my lap, Jon.”

“Oh. Right. I knew that.” Jon managed to get to his feet. Martin chuckled as he stood, too.

Tim had lit several candles and was apparently mid-debate with Sasha over whether or not he should add another one to the mix. Past Jon rolled his eyes in Jon and Martin’s direction when they came in. “Please make them shut up.”

“Impossible, I’m afraid. They’re both breathing,” Jon said dryly. Tim snorted and Sasha stuck her tongue out at him. “It smells good in here. Have you been baking?”

“Electric oven. Jon barely finished cooking dinner before the power went out. It’s the candles,” Tim admitted. “One of the kids in the neighborhood keeps selling them to raise money for school trips and the like, and I’m apparently one of his best customers.”

“Well, if you add any more, the smell might be overpowering. Or you might set off your smoke detector.”

“Point. Okay, then, sit down and eat. We saved you a couple plates.”

Jon didn’t have to look at Martin to see the I-told-you-so look on his face.

As they ate, Sasha slid a piece of paper towards him, covered in neat, still-unfamiliar handwriting that Jon presumed to be hers. “Can you think of anything on here we missed?”

The lighting wasn’t really adequate to read the paper clearly, and Jon was tired, despite Martin’s presence and support; the panic attack had drained him a bit more than he’d expected. He was going to need something stronger than a couple of old statements to recover, but he had no idea how to go out and get it. It all combined to make him forget himself a little. He reached out with the Eye rather than his own eyes to skim the paper. Sleeping mats, camp stoved, tinned food (ANYTHING but peaches)…

“What’s all this?” he asked, picking it up to see a bit better.

“Supplies,” Past Jon said brusquely. “You didn’t think we’d make you stay in those tunnels without some way of being comfortable, did you?”

Actually, Jon hadn’t thought about it. He picked up the list and studied it more closely, with his actual vision this time. It seemed like a fairly comprehensive list. There were a few things on it that he recognized as bearing his boyfriend’s hallmark, unexpected items that nevertheless might, in certain circumstances, make a huge difference. He angled the paper towards Martin. “Anything you have to add?”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “Unless that’s written in Braille, I don’t think I’m going to be of much use there.”

“Oh. Right.” Jon was thankful that the combination of his complexion and the low light in the room would probably hide his blush from anyone whose eyes still functioned.

Tim looked back and forth between the two Martins. “Wait, you know Braille?”

Past Martin ducked his head, looking mortified. Martin, however, simply nodded slowly. “Mum had one of those pill keepers, you know the ones. I taught myself Braille so I could know which pills to get ready for her without turning on the light before she was ready to be awake.”

The look on both Tim and Past Jon’s faces made Jon slightly glad, and also slightly disappointed, that Martin’s mother was dead. Then he remembered that she’d died while he was in his coma, so she was currently still alive in a nursing home in Devon refusing her son’s visits but accepting, even demanding, his money, and it was very difficult for him to swallow his own anger and uncharitable thoughts. He wasn’t a monster and couldn’t act like one, no matter how good his motives seemed.

Instead, he covered the moment by reading the list aloud to Martin. Martin listened and nodded and smiled when Jon hit the last item on the list. “I don’t think you need to worry about a tape recorder, honestly. They turn up on their own.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Tim said dryly. “But you said the tunnels blocked stuff at times. I figured, just in case…”

“Might be a comfort,” Past Martin suggested softly. It was the first thing he’d said since Jon and Martin had come into the kitchen.

“The tunnels don’t stop the recorders,” Jon said. “But…thank you. It’s thoughtful of you.”

Sasha nodded and took the list. “We’ll get everything together tomorrow, then, and you can find another entrance to the tunnels.”

“Will you be able to find the Archives?” Tim asked. “Through those tunnels, I mean? They’re a mess, honestly.”

“We’ll manage.” Jon actually wasn’t a hundred percent sure how easy it would be. He’d had a map made at one point, but that was after Leitner had manipulated things for him, and the tunnels were shielded from the Eye, somehow. He’d be lucky not to have to live with the ever-present…fuzziness he’d dealt with when they’d been staying with Georgie and Melanie and their inadvertent cult. But they really and truly didn’t have a choice.

“I suppose if we have to, we could put a—a beacon or something at the foot of the stairs under the trapdoor,” Past Jon said uncertainly.

Tim grinned. It looked slightly diabolical in the flickering candlelight. “Ooh, or one of those electronic gizmos they use in hunting to attract prey.”

“I’m very sure random deer calls would have the opposite effect than luring us to where you want us to go,” Martin said with a smirk. “Have you ever heard those things? They’re terrifying.”

The conversation devolved into a slightly silly discussion of the weirdest animal cries they’d ever heard, and Jon was able to breathe and eat his dinner without too much trouble.

That night, though, curled into bed with Martin, he said quietly, “What if it’s a bad idea? What if being down there…what if I fall apart again? What if it’s like at Salesa’s, but worse?”

“It won’t be,” Martin said. The confidence and assurance in his voice was almost a physical force.

“How can you know that, though?”

Martin ran a hand through Jon’s hair, gently untangling a knot that had probably got there during his panic attack in the living room. “Did you know that if you lose sight in one eye, you only lose something like twenty percent of your overall vision but all of your depth perception?”

“No?” Jon could have known that, if he’d wanted to, obviously, but it wasn’t something he’d ever consciously set out to learn. He also didn’t see how it was relevant.

“I mean, you can sort of train yourself to compensate for the depth perception, but yeah, twenty percent of your vision. Mostly peripheral. It makes it harder to see people coming from that side of things.” Martin’s fingers caught in another knot. “The Beholder really had two eyes overlooking the Apocalypse, Jon. Jonah and you. He saw from the heights and you saw from ground level. He oversaw, and you…experienced. I’d even go so far as to say you were the dominant eye, so to speak. Of course you were weak when you were cut off from it. It’s like a phantom pain. That won’t be an issue now. The Eye isn’t as…strong. You said yourself, you’re still…you, just not quite as…all-powerful?”

“Hopefully I’ve still got enough power to do what needs to be done,” Jon sighed, but Martin’s words were a comfort.

After a pause, Martin added, “And you have me.”

“And I have you,” Jon agreed. “And we can probably get fairly close to the Archives. All right, I know I’m probably worrying unnecessarily. It’s just…” He trailed off, tracing his fingers over the three puckered holes clustered just above Martin’s heart. Jonah had known what he was doing, far too well. “I can’t lose you again, Martin. I can’t. And I’ll never forgive myself if it happens because I wasn’t strong enough.”

Martin covered Jon’s hand with his own. “It won’t. You’re strong enough, Jon. I trust you. And you know I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

“I know.” Jon snuggled into Martin’s chest, then leaned up to kiss him. “You know I can’t do this without you.”

“I wouldn’t want to see you try.”

Jon yawned and adjusted the covers over the both of them. Martin rolled onto his side and buried his face in Jon’s hair, and Jon sighed with almost-forgotten contentment as he drifted off to sleep, Martin’s heartbeat thudding steadily in his ear.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #ptsd cw #panic attacks #I think we all agree that Jon has issues with lotion #but it occurs to me he probably has thunderstorm issues too

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yellowocaballero · 5 years ago

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⭐️!

“Useless,” Agnes said haughtily. She beat the bone in a steady rhythm against the wall, almost in defiance of Gerry. Thump, thump, thump. “A spoiled child, an aimless teenager, a disaffected young adult. Gertrude bound her and her cult members fawned over her. Then she had some stupid crisis of faith, doubted herself and her journey, and abandoned everything. She was just a useless coward. I’m much better than she ever was. I’m stronger.”

“Dude, you’re going to break the Archivist’s rib -”

“It’s not enough to just not want to end the world,” Agnes said, and she realized for the first time that her head was crowding with the familiar smoke of her anger. She didn’t care, didn’t even try to tamp it down. Thump, thump, thump. “You have to want to save it. She had all of that power, the full flames of the desolation on her side. And she just walked away . She could have done something, could have - could have stopped Jon, stopped Jonah, done something . But she just decided that she wanted to keep living in the world, and she didn’t even fight to keep it. Adults are so - fucking - useless!”

Something splintered underneath her hands, cracked and shattered, and Agnes didn’t even care. She always destroyed whenever she was mad.

“She didn’t even try!” Agnes cried, and drove the rib further into the wall. Her hand punched through the thin drywall, widening the quickly growing hole, and with a cry of fury she whirled around and put her foot through it too. “Now we have to clean up after the grown-up’s mistakes, like fucking always, and it’s not fair! We aren’t the ones who killed the world! Why do we always have to save it!”

Agnes! Agnes! Agnes! She was so much fun writing in TCF I’m afraid she might be a mainstay in future works, lol. This right here is the second half of the capitalist discussion: Jon as the privileged content to live in luxury, Agnes as the privileged who’s fighting to change the system. (There should also be a voice from the people who are actually suffering, and to an extent that is Sasha - but those voices in the narrative is ultimately Martin and Basira, who really didn’t get enough screentime to talk about that due to just how much was happening that late in the story. I consider this a fault and a weakness in the story, and it’s something I’d change on revision).

I joke with my friends a lot that Agnes is protagonist coded, along with Gerry, and she absolutely is. Agnes is explicitly the teen girl protagonist in the dystopian YA novel. She is Katniss Everdreen, she is Greta Thurnberg. She’s a super special flame princess messiah with cool superpowers and a legion of cultists, but with her sidekick brother she’s gonna CHANGE THE SYSTEM. Unfortunately this is not a YA novel, so her lamebrain adopted uncle and aunts don’t let her do anything cool. Believe it or not I turn characters into teenagers for a reason lol - Agnes and Gerry being young people is very crucial to their arcs, and it’s THOSE characters specifically who I find are extremely interesting as teenagers - because they are defined by legacy, family, and their futures.

It’s interesting to me that Agnes would hate her past self. Like Gerry, Jon, and Daisy, she has a past self who feels very different from who she is now - but where Jon and Daisy are scared and actively avoid knowledge of their past selves, Agnes is bitter. She considers her past self part of the problem - that she saw the game was rigged, and she bowed out of the game instead of trying to fix it. Agnes is willing to look at what she did wrong and learn from her mistakes, unlike Jon and Daisy, but it’s because she considers these mistakes the mistakes of the previous generation. It wasn’t teen Agnes who fucked everything up, it was the adults - the cult members, the Avatars, humanity. The big point of her arc was the confrontation with Jude - because it was at that point that Agnes accepted that there was no reconciliation with Jude and her viewpoint, that she could not abide willful ignorance or malice. She didn’t get to kill Jude, but I wouldn’t have wanted her to - she just had to decide to reject her, and then see by what Jon did to her how violent the ideological differences are.

It is a big part of Agnes that she does essentially want to be a normal person. But she’s been robbed of that. She’s not getting the American Dream (metaphorically), the cheap college, the affordable house, the white picket fence - the idiocy of the adults ruined that for her. There is no possibility of a normal life for her anymore. And it makes her very angry. And she knows just who to blame for it.

Agnes is the white, upper middle class angry Gen Zer who is part of JSA and wants to be a civil rights lawyer because she physically can’t imagine not caring about other people. It’s never explicitly stated, but Agnes would probably care a lot less if she hadn’t met Gerry - who is part of the group suffering, even if Agnes protects him, and has experienced hardship too. Gerry, for his part, just wants to find his people and stick by his people and survive - but Gerry will always care about doing the right thing to, because that’s part of love for him.

Agnes and Gerry are characterized very strongly by their love and compassion - for the world, for their family, and for each other. It’s alienated people around them, as seen with Jude, but they want to do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do. They just had no idea how, or no idea what taking action would mean - until they met Sasha, and then a lot happened very quickly. This care and compassion was very inspiring to Jon, who couldn’t really imagine just caring about something because it was the right thing to do.

They’re good kids. I love them. Thanks for the ask!

#agnes is based off many girls from my high school #meanwhile? gerry? just vibing #my writing

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parasite-core · 5 years ago

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I'm curious if you've got any big TMA theories about what's going on. You've been scarily accurate in a couple of your predictions (not saying which) so I'm curious if you're going to be able to predict the big mega twist that happens later lol

Hm...to be honest I don’t even know how much I keep track of my own theories, I kind of just say things as I think of them based on what I hear and then later realize ‘oh shoot I said that thing that just happened 20 episodes ago didn’t I?’ But here’s some things that come to mind:

It definitely seems like Jon is on the road to becoming like the other avatars if nothing helps ground his humanity (*coughMartincough*) (Georgie can probably help too, she’s good at knocking him off his high horse)

I’m concerned based on Jon recently forcing statements out of people, and also the effects giving statements has on people in the long run. I’m also concerned that his actions might be directly helping pave the way to the Eye’s ritual, the Watcher’s Crown. Worst case scenario, Jon’s lost so much of himself by the time it happens he’s unable or unwilling to stop it. He did tell Gerry that he likes having the compulsion power, whereas Gertrude did not.

Actually, worst case scenario is that he’s the Eye’s equivalent of Nikola and Agnes and he’s literally going to be at the center of bringing it about. But if that’s the case what does that make Elias? I’m on the fence, but given how much Elias insists on Jon growing stronger, I think it’s more likely Jon than Elias who is vital to the Eye’s ritual, in some way.

The Watcher’s Crown was also mentioned in reference to Jonah Magnus in...I think it was Smirk’s statement? Jonah was implied to be trying to find a way to cheat death. It’s also been shown that the Dark cult’s leader Reiner has found a way to cheat death. I can’t remember if the characters said he was body hopping or if that’s an assumption I made at the time, but he’s definitely doing something to keep coming back. I think, given how close together these two revelations were, that Jonah may have attempted to become something similar. Whatever he was trying to do, it must be all tied up in what the Archive’s real purpose is, which I assume is preparing for and then instigating the Watcher’s Crown.

But the characters have said the Watcher’s Crown has never been attempted...so if he was going to use the crown to cheat death, either something got to Jonah before he could put his plan into action in his lifetime, or he had something set up for the distant future for when the ritual is finally set in motion...which the long running nature of the Institute implies...but if he was planning ahead but also trying to cheat death that implies he found (or tried to find) a way to bring himself back later if he needed the ritual to be done after the Archive has served its purpose...

I feel like I’m starting to make too big of leaps of logic at this point on that subject tbh. After Smirk’s statement I definitely feel like Jonah plays more of a role than just having founded the Archive and therefore setting things in motion, but I’m definitely still missing some important pieces of the puzzle to get a coherent idea of what’s coming.

I have no theories about what Peter has planned for Martin yet, beyond what’s already been said that he wants to align him with the Lonely and that somehow this will help stop the Extinction. I don’t have a great grasp on that plot thread yet. I don’t trust Peter, that’s for sure. I do believe that he doesn’t want the Extinction to manifest and risk it destroying everything, because there needs to be people to feel fear for the various entities to exist. I just don’t trust that that’s his only motivation. On a side note I wonder what the Lonely’s ritual is? Also since Martin is signed on with the Archive and therefore belongs to the Eye already, I’m wondering how Peter’s actions could make him be aligned with the Lonely instead...

On another note, I wonder why Elias was less worried about the Extinction than Peter. There’s no knowledge left to learn and nothing left to watch if everyone dies, so I do not see how the Extinction would be less of a threat to the Eye than to the Lonely. At least in an empty dead world everything is loneliness. There’s no fear of loneliness though so I guess it doesn’t make that big a difference...

#tma #anon #long post #this kind of turned into brain soup and I’n sorry about that #I get very stream of consciousness when trying to put the pieces together #I just say everything my brain thinks and hope it sticks 😂

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centaurianthropology · 6 years ago

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The Magnus Archives ‘Scrutiny’ (S04E22) Analysis

Everyone who was hoping for a happy episode devoid of existential pain for both characters and audience might be disappointed. Because this? This was a painful sort of ride. Come on in to hear what I have to say about ‘Scrutiny’.

Youch. This was intense. Both the statement, and Martin’s reaction to it, as well as his interaction with Daisy were all punches to the gut. Well-written, and beautifully performed punches. But damn, this one hurt.

This is an interesting twist on the statement. Reorienting things from another random person’s perspective on the Buried, and on the Archivist. Finding out that Jon, wherever he goes, now knows that people have statements in them is something fairly obvious already. But knowing that he’s going out and demanding statements from random people on the street, dragging their stories out of them, is much more worrisome.

This is more than an addiction. This is the inhuman part of Jon getting stronger, encouraged by isolation and the pressure his colleagues have put on him to save the world. And it’s also a total outside perspective on what the Archivist is and what he does. And coming from her? Yeah, he sounds like a monster.

He sounds like he’s losing himself, and that what he did last week to the sailor isn’t at all out of character. This is what he’s doing, and has done since he woke up. And he’s had no one to reign him in or ask him to limit himself to old or voluntary statements. He’s had no one to make him recall why this would be the wrong thing to do.

On the contrary. He’s had no one but people like Basira demanding that he be more powerful, that he stop the other powers. He’s dealing with it like the Archivist, because he’s not Gertrude, who was cold enough personally to deal with it as herself. As a person, he’s too caring and too hesitant to do what he has to do. As the Archivist, none of that matters. So he’s indulging that part of himself.

And Martin is worried, but Martin is also … slipping in his own way. He’s finding not reaching out to be easier. He likes caring from a distance (always has), because that’s less likely to hurt him. And that’s twisting quite easily into the Lonely.

He wants to help, but he doesn’t want to go out on a limb. So Martin, also left with only the monster for company, is slipping in his own way. But unlike Jon, who slips into active hunting for stories and victims, Martin slips outward, toward nothingness and the comfort of not having to interact with anyone. Of not having to do anything or help anyone in any real way.

Which is why having Daisy turn up is hugely important. Because human connections are the only things keeping the two of them tethered, and Daisy now has a unique experience. She’s not only worked for Elias and has been a monster for the Hunt, but she’s accidentally come out the other side. She gets it in a way few others can. And she has a new sort of calm and understanding.

And that means that she can talk to the two of them in a real way, can reach them. Of course, now Martin actively resents trying to be reached, so he’s more confrontational and angry than he used to be. Even though he demanded not to be reached out to, he resents the fact no one talks to him. He resents that they think he’s working for the bad guy, even though he is.

In that way, I think Martin may have a lot more self-delusion than Jon does, and having Daisy be the one to point that out may be necessary for him to wake up and realize what’s happened to him. That when he gets frustrated with Jon for doing stupid things, it’s because Jon is as desperate for control as he is. That Basira is quieter, but no better, and will also throw herself into danger. That people like Daisy and Martin need to reach out, to hold onto them, because they will otherwise drift away and be lost.

And honestly? Daisy may be the only one who can reach Martin at this point. I was wondering how she so easily slipped in to see him even through the Lonely. And I think it’s because she’s now independent. She’s not viewed as a supernatural threat anymore. She’s just herself, and through that she’s filling the role Martin used to play: the unnoticed and unimportant. And that gives her power to reach the others.

And maybe it will give Martin the perspective he needs on how he’s changing, and the ability to take control over it. Being more assertive is good, but not if it means totally cutting himself off. He’s doing all of this out of love for Jon, but also losing any interest in actually being with him. That’s the trap of the Lonely: it’s insidious. It’s easier to only care from a distance, in abstract. It’s easier not to put yourself out there. It’s easier to wrap yourself in the cocoon of isolation and just let whatever happens to other people happen, and only care after the fact (because there’s nothing you could have done to help, you weren’t there).

Each power has a seductive quality, and this is the way the Lonely seduces: through comfort. Through ease. Through just letting it happen.

So, honestly, Martin’s assertiveness may be the best chance he has not to fall completely to the Lonely. Because he’s learning not to be passive. He’s learning to stand up for himself to Peter, and now he needs to do something even riskier: to reach out to someone he cares about.

Daisy may be the avenue to that. Through easing him back into inconsequential contact, she’s forcing him to KNOW what’s happening to Jon. She’s forcing him not to sit around assuming Jon’s okay because he hasn’t heard otherwise. She’s making him a participant again, and making him either chose to sit aside and let whatever happens happen, or to step back in. To not only put himself physically at risk, but emotionally as well.

I really hope this arc ends up with Martin embracing that risk. Because we’ve been with his character almost as long as we’ve been with Jon’s. And this is horror—nothing ends well—but I don’t want this to be Martin’s end. I want him to balance himself, to use this newfound strength, but not to have it be the sort of strength that only exists when he’s alone. Because there’s no triumph at all in that. There’s no choice and power that Tim was given, and that’s all I want for Martin in the end. I want him to be able to risk himself enough to give Jon and him a try. I want them both, frankly, to go down together in the end.

That one of the central emotional arcs of this series is a love story is something that surprised me. That it’s a love story that genuinely means a lot to me—that I enjoyed as fanon even before I realized they were making it canon—was also a surprise to me. But it works. Martin and Jon are the only pair of characters left from the original main cast, and they both have so much personal and supernatural baggage to overcome in order to even admit they feel something for one another. Even when it’s obvious to every other character.

I don’t know what power their relationship might have, in the grand scheme. I don’t think it has to have any great power. I think that the power Jon and Martin would have is the same power anyone else in a relationship has: someone there. Someone to ground you, and care about you, and hold you accountable. Someone to be your conscience even when you forget you have one, because right and wrong might be muddy, but anything that would lead to them never talking to you again is clearly unacceptable.

All the monsters who truly lose themselves in this show do so because they have lost all human connection. Agnes never truly became the living flame, because she gained a connection, and that was enough to derail the apocalypse. Helen isn’t slipping as fast as Michael because she’s keeping herself rooted to the Archives, to people.

Jon held on as long as he did because of his connections. It’s only now, with the Lonely’s intervention, that he’s sliding downhill fast. Martin has to recognize that on some level. It’s Jon’s isolation that let him do what he did to the engineer in this episode, and to the sailor the last episode. And he’ll keep doing it and sliding down into not caring, so long as there aren’t people around him that he cares enough about to reach out to him. Not as a tool, or as a savior, or as the Archivist, but as Jon.

And Martin might be the only one who knows him well enough, and has known him long enough, to do that. Martin needs to save Jon, but Jon needs to save Martin. They’re both sliding, right now, and the only way to stop their descent is to grab hold of one another. To hold one another accountable, even though it’s a risk on a whole different level than the self-destructive risks Jon’s taking now.

I hope Daisy got through to Martin. I hope Martin is shaken enough that he knows he has to step in before he loses the one person even anchoring him from a distance. Ny Alesund is rapidly approaching, with two self-destructive people hurling themselves into an unknown danger, puppeted by someone whose plans are opaque to say the least. If Elias is hoping for a sacrifice, both Basira and Jon may be in the right frame of mind to provide one. Jon is losing himself to the Archivist, to viewing people as tools and nothing more. Basira is doing the same for other reasons, but both of them might try to rationalize killing the other to save the world.

Martin and Daisy could anchor them, but it would force both of them to take the risk, both personally and emotionally. Even Daisy, who is being more emotionally honest, is terrified to risk herself physically, because it might mean losing herself to the Hunt again. So they’re both paralyzed, gaining some strength while lacking the critical strength to reach out and help.

But the thing is, they’re lacking the strength the other one has. Martin might be happy to risk himself physically, but fears the emotional vulnerability inherent in really reaching out to Jon. Daisy risks losing herself and her hard-gained independence again, but has the emotional strength to at least talk to people.

They need to rely on one another, because if they don’t, I have the terrible feeling that either Jon or Basira won’t be coming back.

#the magnus archives #analysis

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yszarin · 6 years ago

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see below for screaming and hopes for one day a whole bread on Panopticon

- as a general thing - please bear with me, early access delays mean that I have had no time to stew in this (well, I’ve had lunch, if you can call it that, and that’s it) and may thus be even less coherent than normal, if you can believe that

- ... so, Martin Won’t Let Monsters Talk About Tim? way to shatter my little Tim/Martin heart while also sticky-taping it back together, I love it so much.

- whoop half my OTP is... kayaking, in Egypt, so I really am easily pleased with my tiny breadcrumbs, apparently. @ canon pls more breadcrumbs. one day I may be able to assemble a modest loaf. (actually what is the minimum size of bread? how many crumbs will I need?)

- “that’s Leitner too!” Peter oh my god

- ohhhhhh! I was wondering a while ago about Not!Sasha being all Cask of Amontillado-ed in the basement and I’m so happy she’s finally out! doesn’t sound good for literally anyone but I am living.

- noooo Martin at least send a text

- oh dear Elias is back on his bullshit. not that he was ever off it, I suppose.

- oooooh will it explode heads? without an Eye connection? how is it messy, exactly? and how does Peter know it’s messy if Jonah’s been in there the whole time, I assume Peter is not as old? though I guess he could be.

- ahhhhhhh confirmation on the Jonah!Elias theory at last. and Elias and Peter can apparently bond over enjoying startling Martin.

- wow I cannot wait to find out how this happened. It sounds like Jonah’s eyes are in Elias’ body and that’s how the possession works, so - I don’t imagine they involved a surgeon? mechanically, how did they do that? was it like Operation?

- and this is Gertrude’s last stand, apparently - wow we are getting so much this episode. I hope this won’t be an end to hearing her statements - it feels like we still have a lot to learn from that era.

- I adore the way she’s saying Elias’ name right now, it’s so stabby

- I thought she was shot more than that? According to the transcript for Human Remains, she was shot three times, so... when did that happen, if it wasn’t then? did Elias decide later, “you know what, I’m still pissed, I’m going to go and do some overkill”?

- I really hope Martin does care about them still, somewhere. Or at least that the caring can be stapled back in at some point. I’m rather fond of the caring. I believe I’ve said before.

- Peter, did you read a book on villain speeches? “we’re the same” I swear. I guess being Lonely he’s not had much practice at them? but you’d think he could have put some work in with Martin, and Brian, and that.

- “I think I would” okay I am putting a lot of my emotions into that would, it’s a hypothetical not a certainty, come on Martin, don’t do it - YES WELL DONE GOOD BOY

- oh no the poor Institute staff! I hope Rosie’s okay, and Sonja, I’m not sure we have many other names but honestly, Trevor and Julia that is just rude.

- “YOU NEVER TAUGHT ME” I really was not expecting to laugh out loud in this episode but here were are I guess.

- and another very well-deserved fuck for Jon

- Not!Sasha and the Hunters is my new band name (love their various ways of calling for Jon). I really want to know who’s going to win and how.

- noooo Daisy! just leave it a minute! they might kill each other really hard! Daisy please

- I love that she’s the scarier though, listen to that growl that is excellent

- !!!YES MARTIN!!!

- “I mostly just said what I thought you wanted to here” please please mean that he’s not as far along as he implied

- god, Martin really is that “all my friends are dead” thing, isn’t he? someone get this man a dog.

- “trapped me into spreading evil” oh he did listen to Tim <3 </3

- also I like the acknowledgement of the Institute being evil - Martin describing it as that now actually gives me more hope for him not going full monster. at least, I can’t see him having said that and then wilfully becoming an avatar of evil, if that makes sense?

- hhhhh he did it for Jon my heart is all over the place

- I love that Martin’s outfoxed Peter Lukas through his special superpowers of being a disaster mlm with some real nasty self-worth issues. what an icon.

- oh no. bad static. D:

- and they’re talking about Jon so Jon going after Martin is clearly part of the plannnnn and I mean that bit I’m on board with I’ll never not be on board with Jon going after Martin but *squints* what are you doing Elias

- what a lovely evil laugh, I wonder if Ben practised (if so do recordings of it exist?) or if he can just do them?

- “I called you” was that the point of the Gertrude tape being left? to get Jon there? (“How do I summon my current Archivist? With a recording of me murdering the last one, works every time.”) Maybe the information about him being Jonah acted as a tie thing for him. and putting Peter in charge, has been all some sort of scheme to get Jon into the panopticon? feels like a Lot, I’d prefer if at least some of it was improv.

- “for Martin” oh just leave me here. “you want you to follow him” ugh.

- I mean I assume someone is going to make it out, we do still have two episodes. but this is presumably Doing Something for Elias. still vaguely concerned that this might be an attempt to actualise an entity - it’s as I say, vague, and a wild guess again, but if the Beholding and the Lonely aren’t that far apart then maybe Jon trying to bring Martin back will let something else (large, unblinking) through too? or maybe Elias just needs him to keep getting stronger.

- so, looking at the episode description - they’re referred to as having disappeared, which feels to me like a “won’t be back in the very near future, so is the next episode just going to be Basira on her own sighing a lot? can we have some of the other Institute staff? I’d really like to hear Rosie again. and from Sonja for the first time. then there’s Helen and Elias, still monsters on campus. Helen was doing a lot less spectating than I thought.

- are we allowed to have tape recorders in the Lonely? iirc we did hear a bit from Brian after he was whooshed, so it must be possible. I expect Jon’ll have one with him, they just tend to happen around him. just hope it turns on, I really really want Jon to finally get to yell at Peter and I want to hear it.

- anyway! I love this episode so much, it had so many things in it and they were wonderful, kudos to cast & crew as ever, RQ... very good. we knew that.

- also I’m still not over Martin Won’t Let Monsters Talk About Tim. I’m not going to be over it. I’m very short I can’t get over things.

#the magnus archives #*hurts in tim/martin*

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ncfan-1 · 6 years ago

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ncfan listens to The Magnus Archives: S4 EP121, ‘Far Away’

And we’re back with Season 4! The first episode was not what I expected in some respects, but in retrospect, I suppose I probably should have been expecting Jonny Sims to cover this as quickly as possible after the opening. Namely, what exactly it means to be entangled with the Powers—a very relevant concern for Jonathan Sims, who is currently only still alive because he is so badly entangled with one of those Powers. We have the return of one of the themes that has been recurring and central to the show ever since we found out that normal humans can become agents and avatars for the Powers, presented from a new perspective, and we have an interesting moment from Georgie. Onwards to my rambling thoughts!

- I was hoping we’d hear from Oliver (alias ‘Antonio Blake,’ the statement giver of MAG 11 ‘Dreamer,’ and whose presence is all but outright stated in ‘Hive’ and strongly implied in ‘Grifter’s Bone’) again, since his experiences seemed like a rather unique insight into the way the supernatural works here. I’m a little sad he’s been corrupted into becoming as inhuman as he seems to be (he’s only superficially human, now), but that is how the story goes, isn’t it? The more exposure you have to the Powers, the more you interact with them, the more you get wrapped up in the world of the supernatural, the less human you become. Another parallel/potential foil for Jon.

- And I could tell, judging from the sheer amount of interference on the tape recorder when he came in, that there was something seriously up with Oliver. Him being one of the undead, perhaps similar to Justin Gough or the gamesters, was interesting.

Related to that, though, is Oliver still associated with the End? Because he makes mention of spiders in his head, and the strands that held him in England, kept him from leaving, that he wouldn’t look at, seemed more reminiscent of the Web than the tentacles Oliver sees that are associated with the End. Because it sounds like there was a bit of a tug of war between the End and the Web for control of Oliver Banks, and to me, it’s not entirely clear as to whether he was fully claimed by one of them, or if he still has them both fighting over him.

The Web seems like a force in the world that would have the ability to stick its feelers into a lot of different situations. Beyond arachnophobia being a pretty common phobia, there are a lot of situations you can find yourself in where the fear of losing control, the need to keep control, or the fear that someone might exert control over you and abuse it. Children in abusive situations, either at home or at school or church or elsewhere—hell, it doesn’t necessarily have to be abusive; I suspect a child with overly strict and controlling parents would, even without abuse entering into the picture, be a potential target for the Web. (And no, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that most of the child statements—statements where the statement giver was a child when all hell was breaking loose—we have involve the Web, somehow.) Toxic work situations that involve an abusive, controlling boss, and you can’t easily get away from that job to find another. And if you yourself happen to be a person who needs a lot of control in your life, that might get the attention of the Web, too. If I had to guess at which of the Powers has the most victims, currently, I would guess it’s the Web.

- It is possible that Oliver escaped the End’s grasp by embracing the Web, instead. Last season, we saw Julia Montork describe finally being able to shake the influence of the Dark by embracing the Hunt. This may be an issue for Jon. He was initially marked by the Web, and seems to have escaped being claimed by it by rushing into the arms of the Beholding, instead, but he’s just as terrified of the Beholding, and even if he’s much freer about using the powers it grants him than Gertrude was, he doesn’t want it, doesn’t want to be claimed by it, doesn’t want to be anything but a human being. He’s an addict—the way he gets the shakes whenever he goes too long without a statement has all the hallmarks of withdrawal, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Jon took up smoking again during his conversation with Jurgen Leitner, just after he was first made aware of what was happening to him—but he doesn’t actually want it. So what’s a man to do?

Make choices, as it happens. And in this world, nothing is for free.

- Oliver’s story provides a good example of how things inevitably deteriorate when you’re too deeply entangled with the Powers. I can’t remember who said it, but someone on Tumblr said that the Powers run on nightmare logic, and I’m inclined to agree. If you’re someone who is more fed upon than feeding, if you’re who gives a Power satisfaction more by being something it feeds on than something that spreads fear of it to others, then your life is a living nightmare, now and forever (Not that I think the people who feed it constantly, the way Jude Perry is implied to, are having a uniformly wonderful time, either; the adoration must be mingled with fear—but that’s a topic for another post). You never reach the point where things are as bad as they’ll ever get, and can’t get any worse; it can always get worse, and it will get worse if it drags on long enough. And there is no escape. Case in point: Oliver.

It used to be that Oliver only saw the veins/tentacles when he was dreaming, but eventually—and I actually predicted this back in my recap of ‘Grifter’s Bone’—it started to get to where he could see them when he was awake. Perhaps the terror of seeing people’s deaths predicted in his dreams was starting to grow a bit stale, and the End felt the need to pick up momentum again, escalate things so that it could juice Oliver’s fear a bit more efficiently.

And it worked; the fear certainly wasn’t stale anymore. Oliver was desperate to escape seeing the veins in his waking life, and he went to great lengths to try to find a place where there were fewer people dying—only to find that, once out in the country, he could see the future deaths of animals, as well. The more afraid he became, the stronger his foresight became. The more he desired to escape it, the greater the lengths he would go to to escape. The more he tried to escape, the more deeply entangled he became. And the more deeply entangled with the End (and, it seems, the Web) Oliver Banks became, the more divorced from humanity he became, the more inhuman he became, until he was willing to steal a dead man’s identity to get a good night’s sleep, until he was completely willing to doom a ship full of innocent people to make it all stop.

- My favorite background music cue from S1 is back; I’m happy.

- “Under all that awful fear, it felt like… home.” This is what it means to be an Avatar. To be as terrified as you are fascinated, and as fascinated as you are terrified.

- Point Nemo is potentially a convergence point for a few different Powers. The great, terrible creature Oliver sees swimming deep under the water may be the Vast creature Antonia Hayley saw in ‘High Pressure,’ and water stretching on forever, the sky stretching on forever, is classic Vast territory. At the same time, this point of the open ocean, so far from land that the satellites in orbit overhead are closer than the nearest human settlements, is definitely something I associate with the Lonely—and until mention was made of Captain Maccabee, I swear to you I thought the ship was going to turn out to be the Tundra. And of course, I imagine the End must have at least a low-level presence everywhere on the planet, because everywhere on this planet there is, if only on a bacterial level, things that can die.

Point Nemo can’t be the only convergence point on the planet, and I wonder about those others. Are they places where the veil between our plane of reality and the plane the Powers inhabit are a bit thinner? Do the convergence points themselves act as interstices, places where reality is more fluid than in other areas? Or is it something else?

- Georgie immediately twigging to there being something very wrong with Oliver was an interesting moment, because they have both been marked—and, arguably, claimed—by the End, though only one of them actually actively serves any Power. Is it a moment of like recognizing like? I am, at least, half-convinced that when Georgie says that Oliver reminds her of someone, she was referring to the corpse woman she talked about back in Season Three.

- There’s an interesting moment where Oliver refers to the End and the Web as ‘he’ and ‘she’ respectively. I wonder if this is a personal conceit of his, or if he started assigning genders to different Powers after specific experiences.

- Oliver tells Jon that, like him, he has a choice. He’s no longer human enough for the End to claim him—he’s already long since crossed that line—but he’s too human to survive as he is now. As far as Oliver is concerned, the horrors of Jon’s new life will tear him apart if he doesn’t shed his humanity. Jon is at a transition point, and it’s very uncomfortable to be at that transition point, to be inhuman, and yet still human.

- And at the very end, Jon takes his first unaided breath in roughly six months, and the tape recorder goes haywire… which does not signal good things.

As Oliver said, Jon has to make a choice, has to choose, one or the other. And as I said, in this world, nothing is for free. Nothing comes without a price.

I’m not sure what Jon has done, if he’s finally firmly chosen the Beholding, or if he found some other, equally damning way to come out of the coma. What I don’t think is that he’ll wake up being instantly as inhuman as Elias had become by the time we met him. It doesn’t make sense for his character for him to go directly to that place after where we last left him in S3. Just remember, the very last thing we listened to Jon do before going off to stop the Unknowing was burn Gerry’s page. However difficult it was for him, he managed it, managed to take this stand against being fully subsumed into the Beholding and becoming fully inhuman, and that means something.

But I do think he had to barter another piece of his soul away to wake up—nothing without a price. And I think he’ll be struggling even harder against the tide, when he comes back. He might, perhaps, be not unlike Beric Dondarrion from A Song of Ice and Fire, who was brought back to life so many times, and was less himself every time.

- I have a speculation that may be blown completely out of the water come next week. As I mentioned earlier this episode, there’s roughly six months between the last episode and this one. What I suspect is that we’re starting out Season 4 in medias res, and that the teaser that was dropped probably takes place, chronologically, not long before this episode. That teaser did have an air of mid-season terror to it.

#ncfan listens to The Magnus Archives

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anyway-heres-enderal · 7 years ago

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i couldnt shut up about enderal right now if i wanted to so here’s that prophet ask meme with my prophetess fleur

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1. The basics – name, age, etc…

her name is fleur! i don’t know her last name but that’s okay because she’s kind of abandoned it. both of my vyn protags have line-of-sight, musically-inspired names so after that fuckin nightmare intro scene i had to name her as an homage to the song that was playing in my head the entire time it was happening (warning: disturbing imagery, abuse of some sort that is not shown but is strongly implied)

she’s 26 years old, half-kilean and bisexual.

2. Describe their appearance.

there’s a picture up there but a few other specifics: her hair is actually white, not just very light blonde, and she has blue eyes

3. How do they like to dress?

she jumps at the chance to wear nice clothes. she never got to back in ostian.

4. Do they have any markings (scars, tattoos, birthmarks)?

she has a few scars from a couple scuffles she got into back in nehrim. one of then is pretty gnarly-looking but it’s a diagonal from her lower chest to her left hip so once the events of enderal started rolling nobody who had seen it was still alive. word to the wise: don’t try to 1v1 a thunder lizard when you’re 14.

5. What are they like? Describe their personality (use whatever tools you like- MBTI, D&D alignment, astrological signs, Hogwarts house, words/phrases):

first of all, the only one of those tools that i have even a remotely decent grasp on is d&d alignment. she’s neutral-bordering-on-chaotic good. i don’t make characters with messages behind them (esp if they’re not for anyone’s consumption but mine) but hers would be “optimism with a dose of realism is probably the healthiest way to see the world”--she has the good sense to know when a situation or a person is beyond help but until that point she will try everything to help them. she desperately wanted to be wrong about adila and even as he was preparing his kamikaze attack she tried so hard to talk yuslan down.

to temper this, though, she takes things too seriously and she’s a bit of a crybaby (ok, not just a bit. alessia, my shadowgod, cried three times over the course of the entire main quest. fleur cried three times over the course of the very first quest that didn’t take place inside a trauma nightmare), although you could argue that she just has like. a normal human reaction to trauma, and everything that happens to her in enderal is EXTREMELY FUCKING TRAUMATIC.

since i have an easier time using tools like the ones described in the question to describe personalities, if she was a disney character she’d be rapunzel from tangled but less naive and with meaningful agency and if she was a social link/confidant in a persona game her card would be the star.

6. How would they describe themselves?

she has really low self-esteem but she doesn’t like. outright hate herself so she’s dismissive of any notion that she’s special or pretty. this probably sounds extremely sue-ish but a) i don’t give a fuck and b) every diy protagonist is at least kind of a mary sue simply because they’re the big special chosen one who all the romanceable companions have feelings for.

7. Education level?

uh. Not Any, Formally Speaking. School Of Hard Knocks. Worked For A Historian In Her Late Teens-Early Twenties And Learned Most Of What She Knows That Isn’t On The School Of Hard Knocks Curriculum That Way.

8. What are they proud of in themselves? What are they embarrassed about?

like the one notable talent that she’ll accept having is that she’s really smart and even before the Everything That Happened On The Ship Headed To Enderal she was a really quick learner.

she has ZERO prior experience with romance (she’s not in any way aromantic, she’s just never been in a romantic relationship) and she doesn’t like to tell people that, especially people she likes. she feels like they’ll think there’s something seriously wrong with her and that’s why she’s never been in a romantic relationship at age 26. 9. Do they know any languages other than Inal?

she knows like. kindergarten-level kilean.

10. What, if any, aspects of their mother’s culture influenced them growing up?

she didn’t really “grow up” with her parents, they died when she was six, but she has a strong belief in the importance of diplomacy and that’s pure Mom right there.

11. Name a song (or a few) that remind you of them.

i hope you like obscure musicals and vocaloid because that’s what you’re getting

In All My Dreams I Drown - The Devil’s Carnival Cast

Starchild - Ghost Quartet

Tears To Shed - Corpse Bride

Ever Lasting Night - Hitoshizuku-P (specifically the Miku character)

Lemonade - Sophie (sorry 4 mood whiplash)

12. Speaking of songs, can they sing? What is their voice like? How about instruments?

she’s hopeless with instruments but she’s not a bad singer by any means. sorry 4 relentless youtube links but she kind of sounds like Gelsey Bell

13. What was their life like before coming to Enderal?

it wasn’t good, i’m not going to lie. she and sirius spent a pretty decent amount of time roughing it because towns and cities kind of got progressively more dangerous as time went on, and Because Of Reasons I Won’t Go Into Here they both had pretty good reasons to avoid anyone affiliated with the temple of the creator

14. How did they decide to leave Nehrim?

it was too fuckin dangerous to try to make a life there anymore

15. Describe their relationship with Sirius.

they were siblings in all senses but blood. he got her out of a pretty bad situation when they were kids and she just stuck with him until they had been through so much together there was no other way for them to describe their relationship than “family”

16. Who do they blame for what happened to their family?

herself. survivor’s guilt is a hell of a drug and it doesn’t help that things only got worse afterward. she like. knows the temple did it, but since she doesn’t know why she’ll always wonder if there was something she could have done to stop it.

17. Apart from stowing away, have they ever broken the law?

she would be considered an accomplice to murder because she helped hide a body once (don’t worry, the victim without question deserved it)

18. How honest are they? Under what circumstances would they lie?

basically the only person she directly lies to is herself; if she’s dishonest, it’s usually by omission. the rare occasions she does outright lie it’s usually to protect someone or because there’s no way anyone would believe the truth.

19. Worst memory(s)? Best memory(s)?

Too Heavy For This Post and uhhhh. getting to spend time with her two BFFs/crushes on the Gertrude before everything started really going to shit was an extremely good memory for her.

20. Fight, or flight?

fight unless they’re like. demonstrably stronger. running away from an enemy she had a chance of defeating has always just come back to bite her. she wanted to fight the steel bird in the star city.

21. Describe their combat style.

Best Defense Is A Good Offense, Also Axes = Good. (original playthrough was greataxes and heavy armor but i’ll probably switch to war axes and light armor [or unarmored if i can swing it] when the steam release drops because apparently half-kileans are equivalent to bretons in normal skyrim terms and i can’t abide having played a heavy armor + two-handed breton twice)

22. Have they ever killed before? What is their reaction to combat?

she’s hunted animals but she’d never done more to a human than injure them enough to scare them off prior to enderal. she tries to only harm people in self-defense and may have cried a little bit (ok, quite a bit) after she had to kill firespark.

23. How do they react to having magical abilities? Do they use them?

magic makes her head feel “gross” somehow (read: she’s uniquely sensitive to arcane fever) so she doesn’t use it

24. What do they think of Enderal?

the scenery’s beautiful but the fact that it’s a theocracy and the notion of being stuck on a certain “path” depending on the circumstances of your birth freaks her out for reasons of “hey remember the oppressive religious regime that was responsible for all of your childhood trauma and continued to make your life hell before a mysterious trans power couple plus their direct superior group of outsiders instigated a rebellion that brought the whole thing down? now it controls the whole continent and everyone thinks it’s Good, Actually”

25. Did they do the Biggest Egg Hunt Ever quest?

she would have if my dumb ass hadn’t completely fuckin spaced it out and forgotten about it until it was too late. next playthrough, i swear.

26. How do they feel about joining the Order? What do they think of Arantheal?

she was not in favor of it (see: opinion of theocracies) and basically clung to the green shirts until she was inducted as a keeper. arantheal makes her uneasy but the threat of looming armageddon does a lot to help her shove that uneasiness to the side.

27. What is their opinion of the gods (or lack thereof)?

she’s not inherently against the gods but she doesn’t like organized religion

28. Wine, or pipe?

wine!

29. Do they spare or arrest Hallys, the farmer-turned-bandit in the quest, Deus Ex Machina? Why?

she arrested him after she found out where the money really came from. if it hadn’t been Stolen From A Fucking Food Bank she probably would have let him go.

30. What are their feelings and opinions about the Undercity?

uh...she hates that ark has a “slum district out of sight of the Good And Honorable Rich People” because having been poor and homeless basically until she came to enderal she can’t help but empathize with the residents of the undercity.

31. How do they react to the beggars of Ark?

if tumblr doesn’t stop refreshing the page and deleting my answers every time i switch tabs to look at the wiki or change the song i’m listening to i’m going to throw my laptop off the porch.

she usually reacts by sparing some change because she can relate

32. Where and how do they spend their time when in Ark?

she really likes the museum in the south quarter. she likes learning stuff and looking at relics of the past.

33. What would they do with three wishes?

just...stop the fuckin cycle

make the black stones inert so nobody else gets hurt because of them

this is basically deliberate repression so it’s 100% unhealthy but she would gladly wish to forget everything that happened before she was seven if it would put an end to the nightmares

34. How do they feel about death? Do they fear it?

uh. yes. she very bigly fears death. she kind of had a complete breakdown after the keeper exam until calia reassured her that just because she heard something during her harrowing doesn’t mean it’s true.

35. What (else) do they fear?

deep water (predates game events). also i dont know if it’s necessarily a fear but she hates being surprised.

36. Do they have any secrets?

uh. Yeah. her dad really was as bad as the dreams show. a few other things.

37. How is their behavior around people they like? People they dislike?

she’s about as friendly and affectionate as her shyness will allow with people she likes. it takes a LOT for her to be actively hostile but she’ll only attempt like. the barest superficial politeness to people she dislikes. 38. What is their relationship with the companions? Who, if anyone, did your prophet romance?

they’re her very good friends who she is also crushing on hard. yeah, both of em. she ended up with jespar kind of by default because i wasn’t making an effort to specifically target either of them but i kind of like the contrast between them so i’m gonna leave that in the Canon Playthrough Bin.

39. Was there any non-companion character that they were close to? That they particularly disliked?

does ryneus count? she would have taken him back to the sun temple and had the few green shirts left alive help her build some method of locomotion for him if she could have. also she had a crush on lishari. she didn’t have anyone she strongly disliked other than obvious shitbirds like taranor.

40. How do they feel about myrads?

she thinks they’re Big Cute Dog Monster Boys

41. What dreams or ambitions did they have before coming to Enderal? What about afterwards?

she wanted to be an archaeologist! she kind of got to do archaeologist stuff during her time in enderal but she wishes that she’d been able to do it without an apocalyptic sword of damocles hanging over her

42. Do they like cities? Or do they prefer the country? Is there a region of Enderal that they like or dislike more than the others?

she doesn’t necessarily dislike city life because she often gets lonely so living somewhere with a big population is always a tempting thought, but if she could take everyone she loves and go live somewhere peaceful where there’s no oppressive government or looming apocalypse she would.

her ideal Cottage Away From All The Bad Things would be in the goldenforst but she loves the crystal forest even though if she gets too close to the crystals it makes her feel like her brain is trying to vibrate out of her skull.

43. What do they do to lower their considerable stress?

go on walks in one of the numerous beautiful locations in enderal. take apart inactive mechanical constructs and try to understand their inner workings from their guts. press flowers.

44. Describe their perfect day off.

wake up from a nightmare-free sleep (you said “perfect”), go on a nice walk around the city (paying a visit to the museum of course!), meet up with her friends and find something fun to do that won’t put them in mortal danger, get drunk at the dancing nomad when it gets too dark for wandering around outside the city to be a good idea, and then watch the stars.

45. List three of their favorite things. Three things they hate?

likes:

sugar bread

the color gold

nice scenery

dislikes:

cooked cabbage

mead

bugs

46. What’s in their pockets?

emergency healing potion

herbs for making another emergency healing potion

at least one apple

random flowers that look cool

a ton of those vendor trash crystal coins you find in pyrean ruins. she just thinks they’re neat!

47. Pets? Mounts? Treasured possessions?

she’s never really had a lot she could hold on to and the thought of prizing a short-lived animal or an item that’s easy to lose is frightening.

48. How are their cooking skills?

NOT FUCKIN GOOD

(she can cook meat alright but anything more complex than that? no)

49. Do you consider any particular quest or side quest to be definitive for your prophet? Which one(s) and why?

i bulldozed through the main quest on my first playthrough; i’ll probably be able to answer this question better once the steam release drops and i can replay the game.

50. How forgiving are they? For example, if they were yelled at in a brothel after searching high and low for this little sh*t, how would they react?

first of all, everyone has a different reaction to traumatic experiences and sometimes that reaction isn’t “palatably sad and helpless” so jot that down. that being said, fleur was extremely upset about that because a) she’s also not an “uwu soft helpless cinnamon roll” kind of trauma survivor, b) some of what he said was generally hurtful, and c) that entire mission had already been one big long anxiety attack

but she’s too hyperempathetic to hold a grudge, especially when a) she knows where the person who hurt her was coming from, b) she gets a sincere apology, and c) she is more than a little in love with the person doing the apologizing.

51. What do they think of the Veiled Woman?

uh. mixed feelings. for what it’s worth, her feelings are mixed because they started out negative and then once she actually got to talk to the veiled woman her opinion strongly improved but like...sirius still died right in front of her because of this woman’s actions so they’ll never be fully positive.

52. If they had been a victim of one of the black stones, how would it have affected them? What would they have used its power to accomplish?

[slams huge portfolio of ideas i’ve had about this exact scenario on your desk] well y’see fleur as she is in canon is a brand of yandere that only technically qualifies as such: she won’t kidnap or murder people who reject her advances, but...uh...don’t harm her loved ones and expect mercy.

fleur under the influence of the black stones...well. it’d be very much like this except not Literally Directed Toward A Fucking Relative. esp the “well you found out now all i can hope for from you is to see your face one last time as you kill me” ending. not quite full yuno gasai love-me-or-i’ll-slaughter-you giggling while hacking someone up but. you know. Something Adjacent.

53. What was their reaction to the Black Guardian’s revelations? Do they accept or reject his offer?

she just kind of emotionally shut down. it was a lot to take in, esp for her. she took him up on his offer because by that point she was desperate for everything she’d gone through to mean something.

54. How does their story end?

credits rolled on her sitting on the edge of the star city with jespar. while the credits rolled i was staring into the void thinking about my life. not sure if that’s canon, next playthrough i’m gonna do a hard save before the final decision point and see if catharsis leaves me feeling less empty inside.

55. Do they change over the course of the story? In what ways?

she becomes a lot more confident and sure of herself and even though she never stops being an optimist she learns to stop setting herself on fire to keep others warm.

56. Anything else you’d like to share about them?

she’s so cautiously positive because she was written as a foil to my shadowgod alessia, a textbook nihilist who only got worse after the events of nehrim.

57. Bonus: For you- what are you most excited for in Forgotten Stories?

VEILED WOMAN BACKSTORY

#this took me literally nine hours to finish #tbf one of those hours i was in class #enderal #uh. canon-typical triggering content within.

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8147 · 7 years ago

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reading hamlet for the first time (act 5: the finale)

masterlist

none of you told me it was going to be this painful . none of you.

a5s1

“Ophelia’s dead.” “Enter CLOWNS!”

Like im sure this has a different meaning in EMA but im gonna make fun of it because it’s fucking hilarious. (future (present? (now past once more (?))) antares coming back to say i did look at nfs and yeah theyre gravediggers)

“First Clown: What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? Second Clown: The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.” damn not even just this one quote but these are some depressing clowns

hamlet and horatio!

okay there’s something about all of hamlet’s skull talk that makes me uneasy. like, not even the topic, just something in the words and how earnestly and (pardon my pun) gravely hamlet’s speaking about this. and it’s almost a mournful tune, too. it’s a huge difference from his “we’ll all be eaten by the same worms” speech to the point that it’s almost haunting.

“HAMLET: I will speak to this fellow.” C O N F R O N T

“HAMLET: I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't.” (incomprehensible scribbling)

HAMLET, NOT IN ENGLAND: oh yeah lol he was sent to england huh u know why lmao

wait. did the. did the pirate situation get resolved. before act V.

I mean i think hamlet mentioned something about three years but the pirates are so fucking glossed over like what the fuck

“First Clown: 'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he.” HOLY SHIT ROAST THEM JFC

“HAMLET: Let me see. (Takes the skull)” THIS IS THE SKULL SCENE! I fucking KNEW it was bullshit that holding the skull was in the to be/not to be speech. I saw it being presented as such like once or twice while reading and I KNEW IT

hm okay so hamlet picks up this guys skull, of someone he used to know, and sure maybe i could ignore the “those lips i have kissed” but then he goes on to mention alexander the great and i mean come on

but jesus like i feel like im not doing justice to the stuff hamlet’s saying. just, the gravity of it all. Its kinda hitting home a bit hard bc like ive had a crippling fear of what happens after death and being forgotten etc since i was like in fourth grade and this is @ing that phobia

like, with that julius ceasar thing. “O that that earth which kept the world in awe / should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw,” it’s so strange. like, every fucking human who has lived, whether they be emperors, murderers, inventors, peasants, or philanthropists- as long as they weren’t blind, they’ve all looked at the same sky. like. It doesnt matter what the fuck you did or didn’t. It’s wild.

“First Priest: No more be done: We should profane the service of the dead To sing a requiem and such rest to her As to peace-parted souls.” hey i get that there are cultural taboos around suicide but like this guy’s a dick it isnt even clear if it was suicide, like, she was so fucking crazy she might not have even known she was, y’know, in a lake or w/e

laertes, dude, my guy. maybe jumping into a grave is cosmic foreshadowing for something you don’t want to happen to you. js.

“HAMLET: [Advancing] What is he whose grief Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Hamlet the Dane. (Leaps into the grave)” hamlet is NOT one to be out-extra’d (posting-antares here to say, wait, ‘whose phrase of sorrow conjures the stars? is this my aesthetic-speeches-summon-ghosts theory? probably not, but i havent mentioned it for a while)

“LAERTES: The devil take thy soul! (Grappling with him)” IN A FUCKING GRAVE. THEY ARE FIGHTING. IN A GRAVE.

all because hamlet doesn’t want to be out-extra’d. my god.

“QUEEN GERTRUDE: This is mere madness: And thus awhile the fit will work on him; Anon, as patient as the female dove, When that her golden couplets are disclosed, His silence will sit drooping.” Ah yes gertie just talk about the distraught and angry madman as if he isn’t there. that’ll diffuse the situation.

You know what? We still haven’t discussed the pirates.

a5s2

“HAMLET: So much for this, sir: now shall you see the other; You do remember all the circumstance?” If this isn’t gonna be about the pirates im gonna. scream.

“HAMLET: My fears forgetting manners, to unseal Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,-- O royal knavery!--an exact command, Larded with many several sorts of reasons Importing Denmark's health and England's too, With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life, That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, My head should be struck off.” god, though. imagine that. being exiled to another country by the person who killed your father, only to find out that they were going to have you killed, anyways. that’s fucking terrifying. jesus christ.

Damn this idea that pretty handwriting is ~beneath~ nobles confuses me so fucking much. I got called haughty once just because my main handwriting is cursive. I mean, they were right, but their evidence was circumstantial at best.

“HAMLET: That, on the view and knowing of these contents, Without debatement further, more or less, He should the bearers put to sudden death, Not shriving-time allow'd.” Hamlet’s Revenge.

but also, what the fuck, dude. two wrongs dont make a right.

damn i kinda lost myself while reading but it really doesn’t sound like hamlet’s insane anymore. Like he’s… tempered himself. he doesn’t feel insane, just solemn.

“OSRIC: Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. HAMLET: I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this water-fly?” goddamn ROAST HIM HAMLET (also what a fucking mood)

Osric put on your fucking ha--

The wind is

The wind is northerly

“HAMLET: No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly.” I remember someone saying that this is important

Okay here: “HAMLET: I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.”

oh no

Osric just wear ur fucking hat u doof

“OSRIC: Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,--as 'twere,--I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head: sir, this is the matter,-- HAMLET: I beseech you, remember-- (HAMLET moves him to put on his hat)” excuse me a WAGER

but alas all hamlet cares about is osric’s fucking hat

“HAMLET: What's his weapon? OSRIC: Rapier and dagger. HAMLET: That's two of his weapons: but, well.” hamlet u sarcastic little shit i love you

I mean so is horatio. I love him too.

This stuff with the competition is. not gonna end well. not at well.

“HAMLET: I do not think so: since he went into France, I have been in continual practise: I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart: but it is no matter.”

hamlet no. listen to your heart or whatever. jesus christ don’t do it.

“HORATIO: Nay, good my lord,--” HAMLET LISTEN TO HORATIO

Ohhh hamlet

okay reading what laertes said, you know what? i’m giving laertes one last chance. please do not prove me a fool, laertes.

everything is giving me mad anxiety. e v e r y t h i n g.

claud’s speech is insanely sketchy

“KING CLAUDIUS: [Aside] It is the poison'd cup: it is too late.” One, so that’s why it was sketchy. Two, the POISONED CUP?

IT’S TOO LATE?

Gertie’s. Dead.

Shit, shit, shit

“LAERTES: [Aside] And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience.” YES! SO PLEASE! STOP FIGHTING!

“LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then in scuffling, they change rapiers, and HAMLET wounds LAERTES.” Oh no oh no oh jeez eheu they’re hurting each other, shit, fuck,

“LAERTES: ...woodcock…”

“KING CLAUDIUS: She swounds to see them bleed. QUEEN GERTRUDE: No, no, the drink, the drink,--O my dear Hamlet,-- The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. (Dies)” one, i love how claud is desperatley trying to stick to the plan, its almost adorable in a childish sort of way. two, oh god. ohhh god. gertie.

Oh no.

this is the bloodbath. THIS IS THE BLOODBATH.

BODY COUNT: 1

“HAMLET: The point!--envenom'd too! Then, venom, to thy work. (Stabs KING CLAUDIUS)” ...

BODY COUNT: 2

wait and hamlet’s on death row, as with laertes. Oh no.

“LAERTES: He is justly served; It is a poison temper'd by himself. Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet: Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, Nor thine on me. (Dies)’ oh my god already??? I haven’t even really accepted king claud’s death?? jesus christ??

My friend just sorta nudged me and asked if i was alright and i. I’m not. i’m in shock. goddamn. what?

BODY COUNT: 3

goodness thats three in like less than thirty seconds JESUS CHRIST

“HAMLET: Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.I am dead, Horatio.” that’s chilling. just, the poignancy. that’s so fucking spectral. i’m not okay.

“HORATIO: Never believe it: I am more an antique Roman than a Dane: Here's yet some liquor left.” No no no on no nononon NO NO oh my god are you going to-

“HAMLET: As thou'rt a man, Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't. … If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.” hey i’m crying in study hall. i’m actually crying. what the fuck. I don’t cry unless i’m thinking about that one pair of 18th century shoes with the really good photo quality (transcribing-antares here. I fucking love those shoes. I’m looking at them right now and they’re so fucking beautiful. they look how velvet feels, which is odd, bc they're apparently silk. I don’t care they’re just so fucking lovely)

F O R T I N B R A S?

“HAMLET: O, I die, Horatio; The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit.” I’ve identified my emotion. Dread. pure, unadulterated Dread.

for all of you that’ve listened to the penumbra podcast: do you remember the concierge, right before final resting place, saying “you do realize you can just like, leave, and everything will be hunky dory and you won’t have to deal with the emotional consequences this episode will bring you” because i’m seriously considering doing that right now.

“HAMLET: The rest is silence. (Dies)” shit. (posting-antares here to say that i forgot to do the body count but honestly im crying while formating because of this goddamn fucking 400 year old play)

“HORATIO: Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince…” oh god. horatio.

“Good night sweet prince…”

(yet again tis transcribing-antares here to say that im fucking sobbing right now, the shoes are no match for this, and ‘goodnight sweet prince’ is actually never going to leave my head.) (editing-antares here to say im fucking crying again god fucking damn it) (posting-antares back again saying that this fucking line. this line. my god.)

“HORATIO: What is it ye would see? If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.” oh, horatio. god. that isn’t something said without tears staining your skin and a bitter tone hard-won, not that its possession is a victory.

oh my god. this can’t. no. this can’t end like this. What. no. people must have rioted. No. no!!

i typically hate it but i would GLADLY accept a deus ex machina right about now!!

okay my friend just took my phone away from me and shut it off because i kept on trying to scroll past the end

jesus christ

okay so i’m not going to be okay for like, several eternities, so im going to play the sims until i. until i die, probably. my god.

masterlist

#shush antares #antares reads hamlet #thE PIRATES WERE NEVER ADDRESSED #also im crying but im STILL ANGRY #mostly in shock tho

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mariaclaragomez276 · 5 years ago

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Luxury travel trends for 2021 according to industry experts

As part of our Independent Minds series, we asked our community of hoteliers about what the world of travel will look like in 2021. After a particularly challenging time for the hospitality industry, many of our hotels have taken the opportunity to renovate, adapt, and anticipate what the ‘new normal’ for travellers might be. From more sustainable outlooks and slow travel, to private spaces and exclusive hire, personalised experiences, carefully curated itineraries, enhanced wellness offerings, and an increased desire for once-in-a-lifetime trips, we’re feeling optimistic about the year ahead.

Gertrud Schneider, Kristiania Lech – Austria

For me, the new trend emerging is a ‘considered’ versus ‘consumptive’ approach to travel and within luxury hotels. While COVID-19 is still with us and we are navigating new protocols and assessing the safest way to run a hotel and the safest opportunities for travel in the months ahead, I feel certain that how you travel will matter more than ever.

These very extraordinary times without travelling and re-thinking the Kristiania Lech experience have made me think a lot about past travels, about the way we used to travel. A potent combination of access, ease, familiarity and habit had gradually accelerated the pace of travel, pushing us into a frenetic, consumptive frame of mind. London for a long weekend? Hamburg for a concert? St. Tropez for a party? Why not? The tickets weren’t too expensive, so we jumped on planes, with less fanfare or anticipation than my grandparents devoted to going out to dine in a restaurant. Looking back on that makes me wonder how – in the excessive casualness of the way we approached these incredible opportunities to cross borders and could be plunged into new cultures and communities in mere hours – we so often lost something.

Back when it was harder to get places, you stayed longer, you looked deeper, you expected fewer habitual comforts and you brought less of your routine with you – instead you surrendered to the foreign. My grandparents knew they weren’t likely to be in the places they visited again. They understood that each trip was a rare, once-in-a-lifetime experience, so they savoured each moment and tried to slow down time. The word – considered – comes to mind. And if this slower, more thoughtful approach is considered travel, then what we were all doing, before COVID-19 grounded us, can only be described as consumptive.

We regard each other across the decades and generations of an utterly changed world, but I know that I carry the understanding of travel of my grandparents and that it has never been as important as it is now. My grandparents weren’t looking for the comforts of home when they left home; rather, they were thrilled to settle into a place and fall into its rhythms. I believe there is hope in that approach. A future where we all think of ourselves as people joining a community for a time, offering gratitude and appreciation, mingling meaningfully with local residents, contributing something of benefit and taking only memories and a broader view to share when we reach home.

Girish Jhunjhnuwala, Ovolo Hotels – Hong Kong & Australia

Design-wise, I believe there will be a trend shifting towards de-cluttering to minimise touch-points. Urban hotels will become more modern with more indoor-outdoor spaces and open windows, as people are starting to value space and openness more than before.

Technologically speaking, I do believe that many restaurants may look into scanning QR codes for the menu and ordering to reduce physical touch-points, but this is not something Ovolo Woolloomooloo, Ovolo The Valley Brisbane, or Ovolo Central are interested in. As mentioned previously, we value connecting with customers. For me, you go to a restaurant so a waiter can explain the food to you, and for the service. If not, why not just order take-out?

We don’t believe in technology for the sake of technology. Ideas have been floating around regarding a key card that can be integrated into your mobile phone, but checking in at the front desk and being welcomed the way you should be is what makes your stay all that different. Luxury hospitality always needs human to human contact, but technology will find other ways to reinvent our spaces.

Wellness will be given a huge boost as well because of health consciousness. This trend has been on the rise for a while now but has recently become more pervasive with the pandemic, so it will be interesting to see how hotels will incorporate this into their spaces – such as how hotel gyms keep their cleanliness, keeping yoga mats in rooms, walking pads, spas, and such.

I do anticipate that the general trend of travelling will gear towards staycations and domestic travel for the rest of the year, but the travel industry has the ability to bounce back very quickly because of pent up demand. Travelling is a huge part of many people’s lives whether it be for leisure or business, and that is not something that can be replaced. Therefore, although staycations will become more popular amongst those that are wary, international travel will have its momentum back soon enough.

Dinos & Lena Tornivoukas, Eagles Villas – Greece

We see a trend for cleaner interiors, free from any unnecessary decorative elements, with an emphasis on art work to give interiors a special touch. Rooms are becoming larger, with more space to give guests the experience of never feeling crowded and offering the ability to spend more time in the guest room, without having to expose themselves to many people or crowds. At Eagles Villas, we also see a trend for longer stays, and guests extending their stay when they feel safe and happy at the hotels.

Samornpun Somnam, Keemala – Thailand

The COVID-19 epidemic has already redefined how we live, work and travel. It is undeniable that the ‘new normal’ lifestyle will mean many people working from home, or away from the workplace. We will most likely have to consider how hotels can bridge the gap that arises from this change, as many travellers may shift from holiday makers to a work-holiday status. For example, how can we meet both the technological and logistical requirements for this group of travellers, while retaining essential and authentic Keemala experiences for guests to enjoy.

Domenico de Simone, Casa Angelina – Italy

Until normality within the travel realm returns, travellers don’t want to be with swaths of people. We definitely believe that experiences encompassing social distancing — whether that’s privacy or minimised interaction with others — are at the forefront of travellers’ minds. As most of our experiences at Casa Angelina are designed and personalised for the guest, we will continue to think creatively on how we can enhance this, such as allowing the opportunity to fully reserve the spa for the day for complete privacy. In addition, we see wellness also being a big focus for 2021 as guests will want to relax from a stressful 2020. We will work to offer additional wellness-focused creative programming such as meditation and yoga on our lawn, outdoor spa treatments, and a ‘better sleep menu,’ designed to help guests have a better night sleep, just to name a few.

Leopold Botteri, San Canzian Village & Hotel – Croatia

I believe the world will be a better place after this experience. We immersed into ourselves this year and we have a new-found respect for life and beauty. I believe people will appreciate calmer, more restful places such as San Canzian Village & Hotel. I do not see a large change in behaviour in the future. We will always have the need to travel, to visit and experience. We have reached a level of development where travel is essential part of a quality life and I do not see this changing, especially in the luxury segment.

Amanda Syrowatka, Viceroy Bali – Indonesia

I think sustainability and conscious travel will be even bigger trends in 2021, and likely here to stay as the industry upheaval of the 2020 pandemic dissipates. People’s attitudes in general have changed from the pandemic experiences and I believe there is less of a barrier between brand and customer, which we have always been advocates for at Viceroy Bali and which favours independently minded boutique hotels. I see customers wanting more dedicated attention before, during and after their stays in hotels and I do believe travellers will become more accountable to their place in society – in a sense we are becoming more ‘responsible citizens’.

Thierry Tessier, Dar Ahlam – Morocco

Travelling will become more precious again. Our clients won’t travel anywhere near as frequently as they have in the past. We are beginning to have some requests for longer stays (two or three weeks instead of three or four days) at Dar Ahlam. Guests will expect to have deeper connections with local life and communities, with traditions and artisans. They will travel less but travel better.

Jeanette Mix, Ett Hem – Sweden

The demand for recreation and wellbeing will increase, while guests want to learn and to be engaged. Safety and a sense of belonging will be ever more important going forwards. We are also experiencing a new sensitivity and a stronger need for personal care. I believe smaller hotels like Ett Hem will be in favour – requests for full buy-outs are also increasing.

Panos Daktylides, Panoptis Escape – Greece

I am confident that despite the difficulties, the hospitality sector has a bright future ahead. Trends will certainly include a continuation of the sustainability trend, which is set to become even more important as millennials and Gen Z members grow older. In fact, current research shows that many travellers are not satisfied by the level of sustainability and eco-consciousness of the majority of present-day hospitality establishments. It is up to us to listen and respond to this need. Moreover, increased focus on privacy and on spending time with the group you are travelling with is expected.

Also, we expect an increased focus on fully-curated experiences at Panoptis Escape – not as an after-thought but as the main reason for travelling to that destination. So instead of ‘a visit to X historical landmark’, guests are more likely to now appreciate ‘a guided visit to X accompanied by a tasting session of food from that era, and followed by a sunset cruise so you can enjoy X from a new vantage point’, for example.

The post Luxury travel trends for 2021 according to industry experts appeared first on Small Luxury Hotels.

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astronomifier · 5 years ago

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Magnus Relisten Eps 39 & 40

Season one comes to a close with a two-parter. There’s a degree of discontinuity between them, but they more or less cover a single event, so I’m going to treat them as a single episode.

Episodes 39 and 40: Infestation and Human Remains Case #0160729-A and -B A series of recorded statements from the staff of the Magnus Institute during an apparent attack on the Magnus Institute.

So, this episode is very different from any we had before, breaking formula completely. Rather than some statement from the past followed by a brief post-statement discussion, we have a live recording of events in the institute, spread across multiple recorders with a large cast. It ends on a cliffhanger and picks up next episode with, yes, statements about the past, but again spread across a large cast. So, I kind of have to review this one differently, more like a character driven action show than a horror anthology.

The first half of this two-parter is the stronger. We get immediate action following up from last week’s cliffhanger, learning that Jane Prentiss has indeed come to the archive with a mass of worms. Thankfully it seems that Jon breaking through the plaster surpised them, so they weren’t able to get a drop on the archival staff and Jon, Sasha, and Martin are able to flee to a back room of the archive. We get some nice moments between Jon and Martin here, especially when Jon admits that, shocker, all the statements that make it to tape are genuine, and that he’s not as much of a skeptic as he claims. Good character building for both of them. Sasha gets seperated trying to rescue tim from the worms, and then Tim joins up with Martin and Jon after a near-miss, in a very halarious moment. We then have Jon, Tim, and Martin running through what are revealed to be tunnels under the institute to escape the worms, while Sasha and Elias work to activate the fire supression system. The episode ends on a twin cliffhanger: Sasha hides in artifact storage, where she is assaulted by the hypnotic table from Across the Street, while Tim and Jon, seperated from Martin, are just barely rescued from a worm attack by the fire suprression. Overall, good action, good character, good suspense, good humor. It is honestly a bit low in the actual horror area though. reads a lot more like, well, an action scene than a horror show. Still, I like it a lot, though it did have a couple of issues with the audio format making it unclear what was going on in some of the more action heavy scenes. Gets a bit cluttered/muddled. The main issues, though come with the second half. This episode is REALLY re-cappy, with all the characters giving statements about the events of the episode we just listened to. Not my favorite The only real extra information is that Sasha is now Not-Sasha, though nobody seems to notice this, with a new voice actress, Evelyn Hewitt. Gone is the bubbly Sasha we’ve grown used to, this new voice actress seems stilted, odd, and a bit like she’s lying about something. Which she is, as she conveniently leaves out the bit about the table and “loses” Sasha’s tape from last episode that would reveal it. Seems that whatever Not-Sasha is, it is very much trying to keep it a secret and it is terrifying. By the way, at the end of the episode Jon mentions that two more tapes have gone missing: the case numbers he listed correspond to Strange Music and A Distortion, the two other episodes that Real Sasha appeared on tape in. The other thing we learn this episode are the titular Human Remains, which are to say Gertrude Robinson’s body, found in the tunnels having been shot 3 times by an unknown attacker. Jon it seems is very shaken by this, having moved from skepticism about the supernatural to fear of being murdered.

Overall, these episodes are really good and the point where the show really hooked me, but there are other multi-cast recordings in the future that i think do it even better. As I’m really ranking this relative to them moreso than the traditional episodes, I’m going to call this a 7/10.

SPOILER PARAGRAPH: A few brief notes to start: We still don’t know what the “worm-door” Tim found in the tunnels was. Some have suggested its an attempt at a ritual, but we really don’t have enough information. Not-Sasha is of course the same Not-Them thing as Not-Graham from Across the Street, and will become a major plot point. Then there is Elias, who is so obviously being a smug little shit if you know that he’s secretly evil. For one, the fact that he is oh so obviously trying to get more statements recorded for Eye. The way he got “seperated” from Sasha with no explanation, like the dude probably got her eaten by a creepy artifact on purpose in hopes of getting Jon an extra scar. The way he claims to have been slow to figure out the fire suppression, when he could just Know how it works; no way he wasn’t just waiting for the exact right moment to ensure that Jon got a worm in him for a Corruption scar. I think the most audacious is the line about “not wanting to have to replace another archivist so soon after Gertrude” like he didn’t kill her himself. Pompous Ass. Oh, and yeah, the Web DEFINITELY gave Jon a heads up with that spider, judging from Tim’s line about how the worms seemed like they weren’t ready yet. Speaking of Tim... this episode will fuck him up a lot, really get his cynical side going, and I saw a great meta post about his “joking about feeling itchy” getting him re-quarantined. Namely that this moment is the one where he realizes that using humor as a coping mechanism won’t always cut it, and takes the first step on the road to the bitterness that will come to define him.

#the magnus archives #tma #magnus relisten

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brykyo · 8 years ago

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His Mother's Love

When Oswald closed his eyes and thought to his mother, his mind would immediately go to the way she would stroke his head. Her touch was always feather soft but warm and never failed to make him feel safe. As her fingers would comb through his hair, she would sing old songs in her native tongue. Songs of freedom and a never-ending sky. Songs of lost love and broken cities. Her voice never failed to bring tears to his eyes, especially now when he knew he would never again feel that gentle touch or hear her voice. But Oswald could remember.

His oldest memory of his mother stretched far back when he was just a small child. He used to stand by the doorway - just watching his mother stare out the window and enjoy the cool breeze. If she was lucky, fate would smile kindly on her and send a fresh wind down her way, but usually the air was heavy with the scent of the city. He remembered that she would always get excited at the smell of a storm on the air, because that meant the world would be cleansed around them. 'The rain will wash the city new, Oswald.‘ she would tell him, her voice filled with so much excitement that he himself couldn’t help but mirror those emotions.

Gertrud used to wear this white shawl, Oswald was certain he could find it if he looked, but he knew the fabric would have long since yellowed with age. No longer would it flutter behind her, giving her the illusion of having wings as she walked through the park where they used to have picnics. No longer would she stand by the edge of the pond, tossing bread to the swans that inhabited that park, her expression so soft and mournful you would think she was looking at lost family members. Of course, Oswald hadn’t known back then how true that statement had really been. If he had, he would have held his mother’s hand tighter. He would have done all he could to console her, but as an ignorant child, all he did was pull away to run through the open park, happy to be free of their tiny apartment.

When Oswald’s fangs first came in, he had been so happy he could’ve fainted on the spot. Their arrival was just proof he was as special as Mother told him, he wasn’t just some boring human like all the rest, no, no, no he was something else, something grand! His mother, on the other hand, reacted very differently. He could still see her horrified expression as he happily showed them off. He could still feel her fingers digging into his flesh as she filed down those sensitive fangs with half crazed desperation. He could still hear her ragged sobs as she apologized over and over until her voice was completely gone. It didn’t take long for Oswald to resent his own blood, to hate his flesh for causing his mother so much pain. To spare her this pain, he had taken to filing down his fangs all by himself, not that it did much use. The other children just seemed to know something was different about him from the moment he walked into the room.

School had been lonely for young Oswald, who would spend his days dodging bullies and just waiting for the bell to ring so he could rush back home to his mother. That small apartment was his only sanctuary, the only place where he could be at peace. Often times he would come home with tears in his eyes and torn clothing - the victim of yet another foul prank. Other days he would just silently trudge on into his mother’s bed and cry into her arms, asking her why no one else liked him. What was so wrong with him? His mother would always assure him that it was nothing. That the bullies were being cruel because they were jealous and sometimes that would make him feel better - other times it just made the the loneliness worse.

Oswald would soon give up the hope of friends and devote himself to becoming stronger and that meant discovering what he was. He would spend hours pouring over book after book in the library, desperate for anything that could give him an inkling as to what he really was. The answer, interestingly enough, came by accident as he was walking home from another fruitless search. The thug that had sprung out of the shadows had no clue what he was dealing with, and frankly neither did Oswald. How could he have ever guessed that to unlock his true potential, he needed something so specific? He could still remember being pinned to the wall. The way the bricks dug into his back and the way the mugger’s face twisted with greed as he threatened him with a knife. How Oswald ended up with that knife, he still wondered, but somehow he had managed to not only grab hold, but turn it against his attacker. Not that he needed it, no, with just the smallest cut, the smell of blood filled the air and something in Oswald snapped awake.

Oswald would later stagger on home, his eyes wide with wonder and his clothing soaked in blood as a strange warmth filled his veins. He knew what he was. But he still couldn’t believe it. A vampire itself was not the rarest thing, but a Traditional? Now that was something different. A Traditional was like royalty, a breed that was smarter, faster, stronger, and well, better than any made vampire could ever hope to be. While made vampire’s could turn humans, it was the Traditional that was the true sire to any newcomer in the bloodline, no matter how far down the list went. But a Traditional could do something special. A Traditional could have offspring and that was obviously where he came from.

From his first taste of blood, Oswald had felt a change. Smells were stronger, his eyes were sharper, the world itself was so much clearer than it had been just the day before. He felt like he could do, well, anything! That was until he realized the downside to his metamorphosis - his newfound aversion to sunlight. He should have expected it, he supposed, he knew made vampires had difficulty going out during the day and would either depend on halflings or would cling to the shadows, but it wasn’t as if the sun burned him. No, it was more like an uncomfortable tingling feeling, like when your foot fell asleep and you tried to stand on it. He could stand it, but it was irritating, to be sure, which was why he took to carrying an umbrella everywhere he went.

The good thing about Gotham was that the average day was cloudy at best, at least until summer came scorching its way through the streets. Not that it mattered, no Oswald found himself spending his nights searching for more and more blood. He found he could be satisfied with animal’s blood, but that was like eating a snack when you were starving. It kept him alive, but he yearned for more. He had to learn how to properly hunt and he had to do so by himself. If his mother noticed the change in him, she didn’t say a word about it, but Oswald would catch her staring at him sometimes, the look on her face perplexed - as if she had just mistaken him for someone else. It was then that he tried to ask about who his father might be.

It wasn’t that Oswald hadn’t asked about his father before, but he had always easily been brushed off. 'I don’t want to talk about him' his mother would say, a distant look in her eyes. One would think that this would have upset him, but deep down he knew that she was trying her hardest to protect him from something. She had to know more than she let on. So, with renewed energy, he began to ask once more, only to find her ducking his questions or giving vague answers. All Oswald really knew was his father couldn’t be with them - but that didn’t tell him anything! But, there was only so far he could push his frail mother until one day his incessant questions finally drove her to tears. For hours, Oswald sat by his mother’s door and listened to her ragged sobs until the curiosity for his father turned into fervent hatred. He vowed to find the old bastard himself and make him pay, but to do that he had to become someone different, someone even more powerful. To do that, he had to turn into a man like Don Falcone.

Any Gothamite worth their salt knew the Don and Oswald had been lucky enough to see him out and about on the streets and even before he discovered what he was and began to develop his powers, he could tell that Don Falcone wasn’t human. To be around the Don was to witness real, raw power, despite the man’s old age - but no one knew what he was. At this point, Oswald could care less. He had to rise up and take over. This path would eventually lead him to Fish Mooney’s territory and his willingness to do whatever it took to get ahead landed him a job as her umbrella boy.

Fish Mooney was a half breed, everyone knew this, but despite her half human side, she too radiated a kind of power. Miss Mooney just had a way of drawing in one’s attention, her every word and every action had the watcher at the edge of their seat, just wondering what she would do next. Oswald both idolized and despised her. The way she dismissively passed over him, never believing he could be more than just an umbrella boy absolutely infuriated him as well as amused him. He’d show her. He’d show all of them. He just had to bide his time and build up his strength.

Oswald learned that blood differed from person to person, which he should have expected. He couldn’t be all too picky, sadly, he had to take what he could when he could. The easiest target was the occasional blissed out drug addict. They were so far gone that they hardly noticed when he bit down or when he got up. As long as he put the bite mark where they couldn’t see, it would heal in a few days, leaving no trace of his presence other than a dizzy ache.

He also learned the subtle differences in scent. The girl who swayed gently on the stage had a scent similar to the nymphs who would breeze through town, but he suspected she didn’t know. The sneering man holding a sign that said 'What Monsters Need is a Good Stake’ had mixed blood as well, a fact that made all those strong enough to pick it out smirk as they passed him. Oswald doubted he knew that either. Strangely enough, though Oswald knew his mother was human as well, every so often she would smell of something different. He never could place a finger on it, he never smelled it anywhere but on her. He would eventually shrug and just dismiss it. She probably had some monster ancestor way down the line. Way too far for her to have inherited much power or even know it was there. So, Oswald didn’t concern himself too much with it beyond the odd glimmer of curiosity. After all, he had to have inherited something different from his mother that made him so different from other vampires right?

Quite a bit of time passed peacefully, or as peacefully as such a life could be. He would spend his time serving Mooney, come home to his mother and once he had a moment to slip away, he would hunt. Every so often he would have a night off and he would spend that night in an abandoned warehouse at the edge of the city, sharpening his skills and scheming his eventual takeover. He just had to wait for the right moment to pull the rug from underneath that bitch Mooney. Oswald wasn’t the strongest of creatures, after all he had seen glimpses of what the others could do. He couldn’t win in a full-blown frontal attack, no he had to rely on the skills he did have. He was quick and nimble and his senses allowed him to spy on Miss Mooney from further away. Not that he had to worry about anything, he was her umbrella boy, he was kept right by her side through quite a bit. Oh the things he could say about Miss Mooney - if he thought it would actually get him further along. Sadly, one couldn’t just waltz up to Don Falcone with some rumors in their back pocket. He needed something a little bit more substantial to get what he wanted.

Who would have though that the missing piece Oswald so desperately needed would come from Gotham’s own royalty, the Waynes. There were rumors flying about that old family, nothing really concrete. They were almost too pro monster rights to be humans, always hosting fundraisers to bring money for some new cause - from making new schools for half-breeds all the way to cleaning up the streets. The Waynes were in everything, which probably was what led to their deaths. But it did bring dashing Jim Gordon barging into his life, all full of aggression and determination. He was a pawn that Oswald couldn’t wait to make dance. Perhaps it was partly due to Jim’s arrival that helped Oswald hatch his plan.

Oswald would admit that his plan came with… complications. He hadn’t expected Miss Mooney to realize his betrayal so soon and he definitely hadn’t prepared for her reaction. True his pain resistance was different than most, but Miss Mooney wasn’t one to be deterred. He could definitely remember that night, it was seared into his brain. He could remember cowering on the floor as she attacked, he was forever changed by that night. Perhaps it was pure luck that the leg of the table broke into the perfect shape for stabbing. It had to be luck that the leg ended up embedded in his leg rather than his heart, but as the wood shattered within him, the shrapnel would be the cause of his limp in the years to come.

Well, limp or no, Oswald sure danced circles around everyone, didn’t he? He pulled the rug out from beneath Mooney didn’t he? Oh the look on her face when she realized that he had been with Don Falcone the whole time still brought a smile to his face. Lila’s death had been… unfortunate, but he couldn’t just let her make off his meal ticket could he? Sad as it was, he still needed Falcone’s protection against his next foe: Maroni. Stupid and easily manipulated as he was, that moron had strength and an explosive temper that scared even Oswald. Who knew what he wouldn't do? Oswald would admit, not even he expected that ogre to drag his poor mother into their feud, but he guessed he should have known.

If there was one thing Oswald had never wanted it was to be the reason his mother shed tears ever again, but once again, he would sit outside her door and hear her ragged sobs after that fateful night. And to think she had been singing just a few hours prior. In such time, Maroni had ruined everything for him, so it was only fair that he repay that debt, yes? Despite both Dons’ bluster and power, despite Fish’s rage, they all were brought to their knees and who was left standing? Why, little, worthless Penguin. That’s who. Finally he took his rightful place as king. Finally, he could give his mother the luxurious life she deserved, but Fish Mooney wasn’t the only one to leave a mark on his life. Maroni’s interference would keep his mother from fully meeting his eyes for the months to come. For the first time in his life, he wouldn’t have his mother’s gentle touch, not that Oswald even noticed did he? It’s funny how it took losing her to even realize she was gone.

How had he not even noticed that she had been taken? How could he be so careless? Oswald knew, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. It was because he was afraid of her eyes. Once they held nothing but love, but after Maroni, there was disappointment, even fear in her gaze. His own mother was afraid of him, as if he would ever hurt her. And so, he hid her away, or well, so he thought. It hadn’t taken long for Galavan to find and take her away, had it? His guilt and fear for her consumed him, all he could think of was what could have happened if he had actually been there for her. Would he have even been able to save her?

"Oswald, why do you look so sad?“ Her hand stroked his cheek like it always had, the gentlest smile on her face as he clung to her. A scream rang in his ears, frantic and desperate. It was the soreness in his throat that told him who that scream even came from as he grabbed the knife and lunged at Theodore Galavan, not that the attack did much for him, did it? No, he ended up scurrying into the night like the coward that he was, leaving his mother’s crumpled form behind. Was it Galavan that caused his mother’s death or his own ineptitude? If he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his dream, could he have saved her? Or was his existence always destined to drain the life away from her?

The fire has gone out, wet from snow above

But nothing will warm me more than my, my mother’s love

Gertrud would never sing to him again. She would never stand by the lake with her shawl flying behind her. Never again would he feel her gentle touch. Never again would he be in the presence of his mother’s love.

#gotham #oswald cobblepot #gertrud kapelput #monster au

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world-of-asteria · 8 years ago

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Asteria: The First Chronicle

Ch-1: The Humble Farm

Alysia hated mornings. She especially hated living on a farm, where early mornings were frequent and late nights were frowned upon at best. With a groan, she turned to her side on her bed, her back towards the window that let in the sunlight. Uncle Ezekiel may have had a point about staying up reading that book she'd gotten her hands on the last time they went to market, but she couldn't care less. All she wanted was for the sun to go back to sleep so that she could do the same.

There was a loud rapping on her door. "Alysia, wake up!" called her uncle's voice, prompting her to creak her blue eyes open. "Come on. It's your turn to milk Ol' Beth."

A groggy sigh escaped her lips as Alysia slowly sat up in her bed, her long, red hair a shaggy mess. She rubbed at her eyes for a moment and said, "All right, all right. Give me minute, Uncle…" She heard a slightly indignant huff from the other side of the door, followed by the heavy sound of her uncle's boots hitting the wooden floor slowly fading out.

She let out a mumbled groan and reached for the hairbrush on her small nightstand, running through her red locks for a few minutes before putting it back. Her appearance wasn't something she was too concerned with, if she was being honest, but she did prefer her hair not looking like a rat would be at home in it. When she finished, she slipped into a simple green dress that a kind old seamstress made for her as a birthday present several weeks ago and headed outside, making sure to grab the milk bucket and stool by the door on her way out.

The farm she called home was small when one first looked at it, only having a field of three or four different crops, two cows (one of which was pregnant), one bull, and a horse to pull the cart that they kept in the barn. Most would think it a poor farm, but they did fairly well for themselves. They had a roof over their heads, at least, which was more than a lot of a people could say. While she still wasn't a fan of farm life, she was thankful for that much.

She hummed a tune as she walked across the farm, finding Ol' Beth, ironically the younger of the two cows, casually grazing by the fence. The other cow, the mother-to-be Alysia had named Gertrude when she was younger, was off to the side, the bull Bulk (also named by Alysia) trotting around her protectively.

Alysia brushed a hand on Ol' Beth's back, the cow giving a low 'moo' in what Alysia liked to think was a greeting. With a smile, the girl set the stool down next to Ol' Beth and sat down, placing the bucket under the udder. As much as she hated getting up early, Alysia did at least enjoy working with animals. She'd pestered her uncle about getting a dog over the years, but she'd never had much luck with that endeavor.

"What do you think, Beth?" she asked the grazing animal as she squeezed milk into the bucket. "Uncle Ezekiel should get us a dog, right? It could help us out around the farm. Maybe keep unwanted guests out." She pursed her lips. "Then again, bandits don't usually come by Redleaf. Too out of the way, even for crooks and thieves."

The village of Redleaf wasn't even on a lot of maps, really. As far as she knew, every visitor to the area has always been surprised by its presence. Astoundingly, not one of them thought to mark it on their maps to show others. Even the local lord who lived just north of the village was an unknown to most travellers. Hell, calling him a lord was more a formality than anything else. Even he lived a relatively simple life.

After a few minutes, she finished milking Ol' Beth. Giving the betty another pat on the back, she hefted the bucket and stool and made her way back to the house, where she put the stool back in its place by the door and set the bucket of milk down atop it. And just in time, it seemed, as her uncle was just returning from the field with a large basket of potatoes.

"Good harvest this year," he said as he set the basket on the ground. "We might go to market tomorrow if the tomatoes and carrots are doing as well. How much milk did we get out of Ol' Beth today?"

"Nearly the whole bucket," Alysia answered, nodding toward said bucket.

Ezekiel grinned. "Enough to sell and have some for ourselves later. I'll milk her again later today, after we finish getting the rest of the ripe crops."

Alysia nodded. They still had a long day ahead of them. A day full of picking food out of the ground and sorting it all out. Hooray…

-o-

Redleaf was a backwater. There was no way around it. It was just a quiet, nothing town with people that were somehow even quieter. Alysia sighed as she walked beside her uncle, their horse Cally trotting behind them as she pulled their cart of fresh crops and milk along the path. She was used to the dull tedium of this life, and was grateful for what she has, but there were times when she wished things could be a little more exciting than talking about how well the potatoes were doing this year.

Some of the villagers were out and about like they were, buying and selling their own crops and occasional livestock. Children ran around laughing as they chased each other around the market square. Women walked along with their husbands or friends, talking about whatever events might be going on outside Redleaf's little bubble.

They soon arrived at their usual spot in the square, a small stand right beside a jeweler's shop. Ezekiel set up everything that they needed, and turned to Alysia. "I want you to run the stand today," he said. "I'll go and buy our supper for tonight. Do you feel like beef?"

"I would love beef stew," Alysia said with a happy sigh. The past few nights, their meals consisted mostly of carrots. She needed some meat in her diet sooner or later. One could only stomach carrots for so long.

With a chuckle and a nod, Ezekiel turned to leave her, but stopped for a moment. "And don't fall asleep again. We lost a whole sack of potatoes last time that happened."

That earned a groan from the girl. "One time!" Ezekiel laughed again, shaking his head as walked away, ignoring the glare and pout from his niece.

Her uncle gone, Alysia sat down at the stand, her arms folded across her chest as she leaned forward, watching as people passed by. Every few minutes, someone would stop and examine the goods she had to sell, and some would even buy something. Every once in awhile, Alysia would sneak a carrot to Cally, and the mare would eagerly devour the vegetable.

A few hours passed, and nothing exciting seemed to want to happen. It was almost midday, and she'd only made around six or so sales. That was less than what Uncle Ezekiel managed, which was sometimes around double what she'd sold.

She huffed out a bored sigh. People watching could entertain her only for so long.

"Did you hear the news?" Alysia's head perked up. A pair of women were standing outside the jeweler's, probably gossiping. "The Ashen Knights attacked another village."

The second woman gasped. "Oh, no. What happened?"

"The town got lucky, I heard," the first woman said. "A squad of Paladins was there staying at their inn when the Knights rolled in. They managed to save a lot of the villagers, but the Knights got away with prisoners."

Alysia had heard about things like that a few times over the past few weeks. No one knew exactly who the Ashen Knights were, or why they acted the way they did, but it was clear they bore only ill will towards anyone outside of their order. Rumor had it that they would kidnap innocent people and use some sort of dark magic to brainwash them, turning ordinary villagers into ruthless, black-armored warriors. Others said that the Knights—the original members, at least—were once Paladins of Asteria who had forsaken their oaths and gave in to evil. Nobody could say for certain, though.

It was said, however, that the leader of the Ashen Knights wasn't even human. He was supposedly a warrior without a equal, one who was equal to a thousand men. The man was rumored to carry a spear that struck like lightning, faster than anyone could react to, and stronger than anyone could defend against.

Of course, as far as she knew, those were only rumors and nothing more. The Ashen Knights were probably just criminals that were exceptionally good at being criminals. Besides, plenty of bandit groups liked to give themselves names to make them sound tougher, and Knights were more than likely no different, just with better equipment.

"Lost in thought, are we?" Alysia jumped at the sudden voice. Before her was a tall, middle-aged man with dark hair and a full beard, with gray hairs dotting his head and chin. He wore a suit of heavy-looking armor and had a large sword strapped onto his back. The man had a smirk on his face.

Alysia blinked at the man before a grin spread across her visage. "Sir Darian!" she said excitedly. It had been over a year since she'd seen her uncle's old friend. The man was a Paladin, and a very skilled one from what Ezekiel told her. He visited occasionally, usually on special days, and would always share a story or two about his missions as a Paladin. There was never a time when Alysia wasn't thrilled to see Darian come by.

"Hello, Alysia," Darian greeted with a smile. "Sorry I've not paid a visit lately. I meant to be here on your birthday, but that boat seems to have sailed."

"It's all right." Her grin didn't falter. "What sort of missions have you gone on recently? Did you bring me anything? How many monsters have you fought since the last time you were here?"

The Paladin chuckled, raising a hand to tell her to calm down. "Don't worry. I'll tell you all about it soon enough. Where is your uncle? I need to speak with him."

With a sigh, Alysia answered, "Last I saw him, he went to go buy some things for a beef stew tonight." The girl beamed again. "Will you be joining us?"

"Beef stew prepared by Ezekiel?" Darian inquired. "I wouldn't miss it."

They talked for a while after that. While the Paladin had plenty to say about his recent adventures, Alysia could not help but notice a strange look in his eyes. It looked almost… remorseful? Depressed? She couldn't quite tell. A feeling of anxiousness filled her, though it was impossible to say why.

-o-

Ezekiel wasn't pleased when he found out that Darian had come to town. When Alysia asked what was wrong, he simply told her to wait in her room until he called her back out. Now, she lay impatiently in her bed, bored and wishing she could hear whatever it was that her uncle and Darian were talking about. Darian had said something about the Paladins, but she didn't catch the rest of it, as Ezekiel cut him off before he could finish.

The only reason she could think of right now was that Sir Darian was here on some sort of business, rather than a friendly trip like he usually was. Maybe there were bandits nearby? No, of course not. The area around Redleaf was too open for bandits hide out. Monsters? That seemed a bit more likely. There were monsters who could burrow underground to surprise unwary victims, but from what she knew, those types tended to steer away from settlements.

A groan escaped her as she sat up and looked over to her door. It had been a little while since she'd been banished to her room. What could they be talking about?

'It might not hurt to listen in,' she thought, nervously biting her lip. Should she, though? Her uncle looked pretty serious when he told her to leave them. A small voice in the back of her head urged her to do it. 'Well… it can't be that important.' And with that thought, she pressed her ear against the door.

"—don't care if it's her destiny or whatever nonsense!" she heard her uncle say, rage palpable in his voice. "I already lost my sister to you Paladins, and I will not let you do that to her too!"

Destiny? And what was that about Ezekiel's sister? Did they mean her mother? She didn't have any aunts that she knew of…

"Ezekiel, please," said Darian, who sounded almost exhausted. "The Lady of Silver herself said that Alysia has to become one of us. If we delay this, Asteria could face utter doom."

Ezekiel scoffed. "And how does everyone know that the Lady of Silver isn't just some madwoman who mistakes dreams for reality? Alysia's eighteen, but she's still just a child! She doesn't have any kind of training! Hell, she can barely plow a garden, let alone fight!"

Alysia blinked, disbelieving. Darian wanted her to become a Paladin? What in the gods' names did Asteria facing doom have to do with that? She cracked her door open slightly to hear them better.

"Alya had no prior training either," the Paladin said flatly. "And yet she became one of our best in just a few short years. Even better than some of her best instructors at Fort Paxborne. Hell, she attained the rank of legate faster than anyone in her year."

"I don't care!" Ezekiel bellowed furiously. "Alysia is the last family that I have! She's all that's left of my sister, and I'll be damned if I let her join your cult of glorified, sword-swinging meat-shields!"

"Ezekiel, it's her decision, not yours." Darian's tone was harsh and final. "As you said, she's eighteen now. She can leave this place whenever she chooses. You would be a fool to make her stay here."

Alysia leaned in closer to try and get a look to see what was going on. As if it was a prank by fate, her door creaked… loudly. Both her uncle and Darian turned to see her stumble slightly out of her room, and she faced them with an awkward silence. She stood up straight, running a hand through her hair, feeling embarrassed and ashamed as she felt Uncle Ezekiel glaring at her.

Instead of giving her a monster of a scolding, however, he simply said, "How much did you hear?"

With grimace, she answered, "That Sir Darian wants me to become a Paladin and that my mother was one, too." She looked up her uncle. "You… you always told me that my mother was a farmer, too. And my father was a merchant… they were killed by bandits…"

Darian raised an eyebrow at Ezekiel before looking back to Alysia. "He wasn't lying about your mother. She did start out on a farm, but she joined the Paladins when she turned eighteen. As for your father, he was raised to be a Paladin. They were two of our very best."

With wide eyes, Alysia turned to her uncle again. "You lied to me?"

"I… I wanted to protect you," he replied quietly. "I didn't want to lose you like I lost my sister, your mother. Killed by a horde of unholy beasts, or gods only know what."

Alysia opened her mouth to speak, but was stopped by Darian, who'd stood from his seat and raised a hand in front of her.

"Don't blame him," the Paladin urged. "Any man worth his own blood would have done the same. No one wants to lose family." He lowered his hand. "Alysia, the decision is yours. You can come with me to become a Paladin, or you may stay here with Ezekiel."

A million more questions jumped to the forefront of Alysia's mind, all begging to be answered as soon as possible. In truth, she always did want a more exciting life. Something more interesting than farm work, or even animal care. But a Paladin? That was something that only ever happened to important people, or in adventure stories. A part of her desperately wanted to say yes, to go on some big adventure.

At the same time, though, the thought scared her. Ezekiel had always warned her that there were all kinds of dangers in the world; crooks, wild animals, monsters, dragons, the list went on. Besides, she couldn't just leave him all alone, could she? Sure, he had the cows, bull, and horse around to keep him company, but that hardly measured up to actual human interaction.

Then again, he does have Redleaf for that. He had plenty of friends in town. She'd even seen him spending time with that woman who tended the bar at the local tavern.

Her parents were Paladins. It took a moment, but that thought managed to sink in finally. Her mother grew up like she did: a simple farm girl who left home and became one of the best the Paladins had to offer. Would she be remiss to deny that kind of lineage? Was that even the right term for that sort of thing?

She looked to Darian and Ezekiel. A tiny voice in the back of her mind was urging her to say yes. And that voice seemed to grow stronger as the seconds passed. She took a deep breath as she offered her answer.

"I-I don't know…" she answered. "It's… I've spent my whole life here. I can't just leave, can I?"

Darian nodded. "It is a momentous decision, I've placed a lot on your plate, I believe. Take a night to sleep on it. Whatever decision you make, I don't think either of us will judge you."

"Of course not," Ezekiel assured her, trying to sound somewhat positive. His somber expression said otherwise, however. Reluctantly, Alysia nodded and hurried back to her room. This was definitely something she would need to sleep on.

She laid herself out on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sir Darian was right that she had a lot to think about. Her parents were Paladins, and apparently were good at their jobs. It was strange, actually, now that she really thought about it. She's always thought that Paladins were an exclusive group of some kind, only letting in those who were already elite, either by blood or by skill, but that seemed to be wrong.

This could be the opportunity she'd been hoping so long for, too. Her whole life was spent on this farm so far. In truth, she didn't hate it, but she never felt totally satisfied. Uncle Ezekiel had chalked it up to her just being a teenager that couldn't be pleased. But now…

What was she to do now? She couldn't just leave the farm she'd called home for all her life, could she?

At some point of her life, she wouldn't have had to think about this so hard. Back when she was just a frightened little child merely living under Ezekiel's roof, she would've jumped at the opportunity to learn more about her parents. But now? All she could think of was how much work her poor uncle would have to deal with. The man was strong, but age was beginning to creep up on him. And what of the animals?

It was as if fate had decided she be the victim of a horrible prank. Forced to choose between the only life she'd ever known, and the life a part of her had always desired.

She buried her face in her pillow and screamed in frustration. She was no stranger to things being hard - farm work was a demanding duty at times, not to mention how rough it can get in the winter - but this was something else. She'd take strained muscles and sore limbs over this any day.

A knock on her door managed to catch her attention. "Alysia," said the voice of Sir Darian. "Are you all right? I would like to speak with you, if you're willing to listen."

She was quiet for a moment before she sat up on her bed with a groan. "Yes, come on in."

The Paladin entered, glancing around at the rather sparse decor in the room. He smirked. "You never were one for decorating much. Just like your mother."

Alysia flinched slightly. "You… you knew my parents well, right?"

"As well as any man could know a comrade-in-arms."

"What were they like?"

Darian blinked, a sad smile crossing his face as he sat down on Alysia's bed next to her. "Your father, Gerald, was as dedicated as he was skilled. He was born into the Paladin order, his own parents being fairly reputable. A lot of pressure was placed on him to succeed, and he did. Hell, he even exceeded some expectations at times." A sigh left him. "He was unmatched with a spear, and had the patience and charity of a saint. Honestly, he was the only man who could stand to work with your mother. Gods know, I wasn't going to give her the light of day at the time."

"Why not?" Alysia questioned curiously.

"Alya was rash, headstrong, combative, confrontational," Darian answered, an amused grin tugging at his lips, "brave, strong-willed, tenacious, and a loyal friend. Once you gain her trust, that is. At first, I think she was there at training to prove that a simple farmer could make just as good a Paladin as any highborn noble. But she quickly made her mark. I think her life on the farm helped her considerably. Nobility tends to look down on 'lowly peasants,' but she proved many of them wrong, I think."

Alysia was quiet as she took in Sir Darian's words, absorbing the information and imagining what her parents must've been like in person. She pictured her father, clad in shining armor, fighting monsters of all shapes and sizes, his spear gleaming as he defended innocent bystanders. Her mother was envisioned being both beautiful and dangerous, handily defeating evildoers and wicked creatures as she led her fellow Paladins to victory. There was no way they were as powerful as what she was imagining, and she knew it, but to think she was the daughter of people that inspired such awe in a Paladin was… she couldn't think of the right way to describe it.

A hand fell on her shoulder, and she turned to Sir Darian. "I won't pretend that I know what they would want for you," he said, "but I truly believe that would be proud of you, no matter what you choose."

Silence greeted the room once again as Alysia thought on his words. Standing, the Paladin said, "I will for your answer for as long as you need to think it over. For now, I—"

"I'll go."

Darian turned, facing the red-haired young woman with surprised look. "I'm sorry?"

"I said I'll go," she repeated herself, standing from her bed. "I can't hear these things about my mother and father and not feel like I'm disappointing them somehow. I…" She hesitated briefly. "I always wanted to be like my mother. I figured that only entailed working on the farm, taking care of the animals, helping Uncle Ezekiel, things like that. But…"

"Now you feel like you should do more?" Darian suggested when Alysia trailed off.

"Yes, exactly!"

The Paladin smiled, nodding with a shake of his head. "You even sound like your mother. She joined the Paladins so that she could do more to help others." He chuckled at Alysia's dumbstruck expression. "I will tell Ezekiel about your decision. Be sure to pack necessities. We will leave in two days' time."

Alysia nodded, and Darian left the room, closing the door behind him. As soon as she figured she was in the clear, she let out a heavy sigh and flopped back down onto her bed. She was about to begin a whole new life, it seemed.

#original story #asteria #asteria: the first chronicle #chapter 2

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