#LOOK AT GUILLERME

[cookinguptales]

The power is still out so I guess I’ll get started on that meta now.

One thing that I think is really fascinating about this season as a whole is that it’s really, really emphasizing the power Nandor and Guillermo have to accidentally hurt each other. It’s kind of fascinating, tbh, because this whole show it’s been Nandor purposefully but also accidentally hurting Guillermo — but this season, it’s been very much the other way around.

Let me start with Nandor’s history of this. It happens in almost every episode, being honest with you, but two of the clearest instances were in 1.01 and 4.09.

In the very first episode, we’re introduced to the relationship that Nandor and Guillermo have by how they behave on their 10th anniversary as a master-familiar partnership. Guillermo is practically giddy at the idea that his beloved master is finally going to make him a vampire, and he’s hurt deeply when he not only does not do so, he appears to have forgotten altogether how long Guillermo has been there.

We feel bad for Guillermo here, but… well, let’s look at it from Nandor’s perspective. Yes, he forgot how long Guillermo’s been there, but… being real with you, the vampires seem to have a very shaky grasp on time at the best of times. They don’t understand human lifespans at all, they have very fuzzy memories for when things happen, and almost every time they make time estimates they’re off by a hilarious amount. I don’t know that we can fully blame Nandor for not realizing that an entire decade has gone by — he, like the other vampires, tends to live simultaneously in the Long Time Ago and the Right Now and any time in between those periods is ?????

So to him, he’s remembered when their anniversary is (already a success) and has put hours into making a handmade art project for his very endearing familiar. He is sure that Guillermo is gonna love this. He thinks he is absolutely acing this being-a-vampiric-master thing.

But we know that his gift depicting the two of them as vampires together is really just rubbing salt in the wound, because we’re approaching this thing as humans — like Guillermo.

Then again in 4.09, Nandor straight-up steals Guillermo’s boyfriend and inadvertently puts the events in motion that will lead to Guillermo’s boyfriend leaving him for his own clone. Terrible behavior! This hurts Guillermo deeply! His very first boyfriend cheating on him (sort of) with the man he’s been in love with for over a decade and then leaving him altogether for another man he is cheating with (definitely) who also happens to be his own clone.

That’s traumatizing!

But… again, let’s look at it from Nandor’s (very stupid) POV. He knows that Guillermo losing his boyfriend will hurt him, but he also wants to have said boyfriend. So he comes up with a solution that, to his mind, will make everyone happy: let Guillermo keep his boyfriend but also make a clone of him so he can have him, too.

I think it’s very important to note here that, catty as it was to say, Nandor was right. He definitely could have stolen Guillermo’s Freddie without too much work. The guy’s a philanderer. But instead of doing that, he used up one of his last three wishes to make his own Freddie specifically to avoid hurting Guillermo. And then he seemed genuinely confused when Guillermo was hurt anyway. He then tried to do whatever he could to make Guillermo stop hurting, including offering him his own Freddie, until he ultimately gave up a toy that he truly loved so Guillermo would hurt less.

Again, from Nandor's POV he has made a significant sacrifice for Guillermo’s well-being. He has given up a man that he really, really liked so Guillermo would stop being so heartbroken. Moreover, this is a man that, to his mind, he got the hard way instead of the easy way that would have hurt Guillermo more.

So he still thinks he’s doing great at this relationship, even if we know he is ultimately breaking Guillermo’s heart.

(And as an aside here, I think it’s fascinating that Guillermo really did seem to understand exactly what was going on, too. He knew that Nandor’s decision to clone Freddie wasn’t about Nandor wanting Freddie, it was about Nandor wanting all of Guillermo’s attention on him at all times, and that’s why he was angry.)

Anyway… that’s all a really long way to get to my point, which is this. We’ve seen Nandor play this out a hundred times, doing something he thought was fine only for it to devastate Guillermo. We understand human lifetimes, relationships, and emotions, so we understand why Guillermo is upset. But, and this is key, Nandor doesn’t.

So season five finally shows this happening in reverse. I’m not going to say that Guillermo hasn’t hurt Nandor before, purposefully or otherwise, because he has. But boy did he really fuck things up this time.

Like Nandor, Guillermo didn’t do any of it on purpose. He was never trying to hurt Nandor or upset social norms when he paid Derek to bite him. But vampiric priorities are as foreign to Guillermo as human priorities are to Nandor. He did something he thought was totally fine and value-free only to find that he didn’t just transgress a social norm, he transgressed the big one. He didn’t just do something that would hurt Nandor, he did something that will destroy him.

He didn’t mean to. His misunderstanding was understandable to us, fellow humans. But that doesn’t make it okay. Just like it wasn’t okay when Nandor stole his fucking boyfriend.

It's almost like this was tailor-made to force the audience to think about how the vampires have been interacting with Guillermo for years. This time Guillermo didn't know something about their culture, and obviously we didn't either. So we felt that same dawning horror when we understood how big the accidental fuck-up was — and we had to come to terms with the fact that this is how Nandor feels about Guillermo all the time.

Anyway... Guillermo’s big angst trigger seems to be being undervalued by the people he loves. It’s when someone who he loves with everything he has does not love him back. We see that devastation hit him both of the times that Nandor accidentally hurt him in this post, along with a thousand other times. I think, in fact, it is his main drive as a character: doing everything he can to be valued. It’s why he wants to be a vampire. It’s why he serves the vampires. It’s why he lies to his family. It’s depressing and it’s codependent and it’s unhealthy, but that’s Guillermo.

Nandor’s big angst trigger, on the other hand, seems to be abandonment. He is so fucking terrified of the people that he loves leaving him, and that seems to be rooted pretty firmly in his experiences when he was still alive. (Jehan, his wives running away, etc.) He’s so scared of Gail leaving him that he just tries harder to win her back when he discovers she’s cheating on him. He’s so scared of Laszlo leaving him that he gets angry when Laszlo makes new friends. He’s so scared of Guillermo leaving him in 2.08 that he’s willing to humiliate himself to bring him home. His primary drive really seems to be hoarding the people he loves close — too close for comfort sometimes. He tries so hard to force a connection that he ironically tends to sever it. Just look at his poor descendent Madeleine. :’)

And just as Nandor constantly sets off Guillermo’s devaluation trigger, Guillermo constantly sets off Nandor’s abandonment trigger. Every time he leaves or even just threatens to do so, Nandor goes ballistic. But it seems like the only thing that sets him off more than Guillermo leaving is Guillermo staying where he is but being emotionally absent. He doesn’t know how to handle a Guillermo who has replaced him while they’re still living in the same home. Right now he thinks that Guillermo has replaced him with Laszlo as a hang-out buddy, and that’s bad enough — how will he respond when he finds out that Guillermo has replaced him with Derek in a much more intimate way?

Guillermo’s doing everything he can to spare Nandor’s feelings in this season, but it seems like every decision he makes just upsets Nandor more. Nandor feels replaced, abandoned, and neglected, and he’s going to feel that way a hell of a lot more when he sees the truth.

Guillermo has always been shown to be capable of hurting Nandor in intimate ways that no one else can. From the very first episode, we’re made abundantly aware that Guillermo chooses to take Nandor’s shit. He twitches that curtain to the side and we realize that no matter how strong Nandor is, Guillermo has the ultimate power in this relationship. Guillermo can hurt Nandor like no one else can because Nandor trusts him to protect him while he’s asleep.

Then Guillermo becomes this legendary slayer and he can actually physically hurt Nandor like no one else can just because he’s stronger than even the most powerful and respected vampires in the Tri-State Area.

But we’re seeing now that Guillermo can also hurt Nandor emotionally like no one else can. Nandor gave him that power, too, didn’t he? This whole series, Nandor has been the one hurting Guillermo over and over, but this season is making it so fucking clear that Guillermo has the power to do it right back. Even if he doesn’t mean to.

Especially if he doesn’t mean to, maybe.

The two of them are so terrible at communicating with one another. Just. So fucking terrible. And that’s a lot of how Nandor accidentally hurt Guillermo over and over throughout the years. And it’s how Guillermo has just straight-up gutted him now.

[mjoriginals]

This wwdits s5 finale has really been affecting me, and I wrote this Nandermo fic in a fever dream at 3 am. Lmao can you tell I’ve been really craving some emotional fucking vulnerability and intimacy lately?

Scared to Lose You

Guillermo quietly sobs and sniffles on the sofa in the living room. Nandor approaches the living room.

Nandor: Guillerm-oooo what is the meaning of this noise?? It is the middle of the day and I am trying to get some sleep.

Guillermo: Oh, I’m sorry.

Guillermo quickly looks away and wipes tears from his face, hoping Nandor won’t notice he has been crying. He is surprised Nandor is still awake. All the others have long been asleep.

Guillermo: I will try to keep it down. I did not mean to wake you.

Nandor sits down next to Guillermo on the sofa, unwilling to admit he has just been lying awake, unable to fall asleep.

Nandor: What is the matter now, Guillermo? Did I not fix?

Nandor pauses and sighs.

Nandor: Are you upset about Derek now? Fucking guy…because it was the only way…

Guillermo: —No no, it’s not that. We took him to the necromancer. Derek’s gonna be fine.

Guillermo sniffles again, and Nandor wipes a tear from Guillermo’s face with his sleeve.

Nandor: Then what is it, Guillermo?

Guillermo: I just don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve wanted to be a vampire with you for so long, and I, I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.

Guillermo starts crying again softly. Nandor leans over and takes Guillermo in his arms, just holding him silently for a little while as Guillermo cries. Then as Guillermo starts to let go, he gently lowers Guillermo’s head to rest on his lap.

Nandor: I do not know what we are going to do now, Guillermo, but we are going figure it out together.

Nandor comfortingly runs his hand through Guillermo’s hair for a while in silence.

Guillermo: I just don’t know what to do now. I know I messed up everything. I don’t even have my footlocker to sleep in now. And I don’t want to be alone.

Nandor: Shhh Guillermo you can come sleep in my room for now. Let us get some sleep.

—Nandor’s room, pitch black—

Guillermo: Thanks for letting me sleep in here with you. The floor wasn’t really what I had in mind… but thank you, this is very generous of you.

Nandor: Guillermo, I must tell you something before I can fall asleep.

Guillermo: Anything. You can tell me anything.

Nandor: I must confess that I…

Nandor hesitates and stops mid-sentence.

Guillermo: It’s okay. You can tell me.

Nandor: I… I saw your school year book photos at your mother’s apartment, and they were hilarious hahaha how did you get your hair like that??

Guillermo: You wanted to tell me that my yearbook photos were funny?

Nandor: Yes.

Guillermo: Okay well, sleep well.

Nandor: Wait Guillermo, I wanted to say that I… am afraid to lose you like all the other humans I have known.

Guillermo gets up from his place on the floor and starts to walk over to Nandor’s coffin.

Guillermo: I know.

Guillermo approaches Nandor and reaches over to hold Nandor’s hand as his eyes adjust to the dark room without his glasses on.

Guillermo: I want to spend eternity with you too… I love you.

Nandor holds Guillermo’s hand tightly.

Nandor: Guillermo, will you lie in here with me, just until I fall asleep?

Guillermo: Yes, of course I will.

Guillermo climbs over Nandor and into the back of the coffin with him. Guillermo wraps his arm around Nandor’s side, holding him from behind.

Nandor takes Guillermo’s hand in his and slides it up to his chest where Nandor’s heart once used to beat inside him. Nandor holds Guillermo’s hand there on his chest with his fingers interlocked between Guillermo’s. Nandor knows if his heart could beat once more, it would leap right out of his chest, instantly betraying him and any composure he might have left.

After a minute, Nandor gently lifts Guillermo’s hand to his lips and gingerly begins kissing each finger he holds in his hand. Guillermo’s breathing shallows and he softly moans in bliss with each kiss. When he has kissed all five fingers on Guillermo’s hand, Nandor rolls over to face Guillermo in the coffin. Nandor pushes Guillermo’s hair back and smiles at him, gazing into Guillermo’s eyes.

Guillermo whispers: What else can you kiss?

Nandor whispers in return: Your cheek?

Guillermo feels his face and cheeks getting hot.

Guillermo: Yes

Nandor closes his eyes, leans in, and kisses Guillermo on the cheek.

Nandor: Your forehead?

Guillermo: Mmhm

Nandor once again closes his eyes, leans in, and then kisses Guillermo’s forehead.

Nandor: Your… neck?

Guillermo: Yes. Please.

Nandor leans over almost as if to feed, but then takes a breath, and carefully kisses Guillermo’s neck. Nandor looks into Guillermo’s eyes longingly and thumbs over Guillermo’s lips. Guillermo smiles, nods, and closes his eyes as Nandor leans in to kiss his lips. They kiss passionately over and over, neither wanting to pull away from the other’s lips.

The coffin is tight with the two of them in there, but Nandor tries to lift Guillermo’s sweater up using his fangs. Guillermo sits up and tosses his sweater to the ground. He unbuttons Nandor’s shirt and throws it out of the coffin too.

They lie down and begin kissing again, chest to chest, skin to skin. The hair on Nandor’s chest feels soft against Guillermo’s chest. Guillermo kisses on Nandor’s neck as Nandor moans in his ear. Guillermo gets a little rough and leaves a mark.

Guillermo playfully whispers: Oops, looks like you got a hickey.

Nandor, surprised and speechless, looks excited to be marked by Guillermo.

Guillermo responds softly: Oh right. It’s healing already.

Guillermo continues kissing his way down Nandor’s neck and chest to his nipples. Nandor’s nipples are hard, and Guillermo takes one in his mouth as he plays with the other in his fingers.

Nandor whispers: fuuuuck Guillermooo

Guillermo kisses Nandor’s lips again and then slowly glides his hand down Nandor’s pants. Guillermo takes Nandor’s hard dick in his hand as Nandor begins to moan. Guillermo slides Nandor’s pants down. Guillermo traces his finger from the base to the very tip of Nandor’s erect cock. Guillermo teases the head, and then strokes his shaft with increasing vigor.

Guillermo whispers: Kiss me. I want to feel you moaning in my mouth while I make you cum.

Nandor grabs Guillermo and kisses him breathlessly. Nandor moans as he verges on climax and Guillermo whispers: Cum for me, Nandor. Nandor finishes in Guillermo’s hand.

TBC…possibly

[raindropwindow]

I went to cat cafe today these are Guillerme and Pauline and Elodie xxxxxx

[driftward]

Title: A Knight's Duty Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Ement Vauban, Guillerme, Lady Vauban Rating: Teen Summary: The story of how Zoissette learned what makes a knight Notes: The First Duty is, of course, from Star Trek: TNG, repurposed for my usage here. Failure is not an Option is from Schlock Mercenary, modified here (original here)

This is the masterpost for A Knight's Duty. If you'd prefer to read chapter by chapter, check the tag: A Knight's Duty

"What makes a knight?"

Ement was still breathing hard from a session with the training dummy machine, and was only half paying attention to the Hyur currently lecturing him as he took a swig from his water skin. It wasn't that his training wasn't important to him, it was, it was just hard to pay attention to Guillerme after the mechanical menace had gotten near to tanning his hide.

Guillerme continued. "Is it their sword, their shield? The armor that they wear? The oaths that they swear? Holiness before the Holy See? Dedication? Service? Power? Birth? Of course, a knight is many things, but it's important that you know what a knight is to you, little lordling."

Ement allowed himself to be distracted further by listening to the count of bells in the distance. At the fourth of what would be five of them, Ement heard the door to the training room being opened and then closed again. He glanced over to see his little sister, Zoissette, enter the room and sit at her customary table.

She took a book out, and set her logbook next to it, as she always did. And then, blank faced, she stared at the wall.

That was weird. Normally she'd either get right into reading, or would be watching for a moment to babble about her day.

Guillerme noticed Ement's gaze, looked over, grunted, and looked back to Ement. Ement shrugged at him. "What's the matter, boy?" asked Guillerme. "Couldn't find a girl at the Scholasticate to come moon over your martial prowess?"

"Couldn't I?" asked Ement, looking up at the ceiling. "I wasn't aware I was supposed to go looking for one there, but I suppose they have a few. I hear they've allowed them for generations now." He looked back down at Guillerme. "...I think something's worrying her."

Guillerme sighed. "I suppose a knight must show fealty to family. Take a break, go, tend to your sister, if you must."

Ement nodded, putting his wooden practice sword and shield aside before making his way to Zoissette's table and sitting across from her.

She can be such a brat, he thought. Nowadays she tended to the younger twins when she had to, trailed after her brother when she could, and escaped to her books when she couldn't.

Regardless, he sat down across from her, and immediately felt awkward about it. Nobody'd taught him how to be an older brother. He only knew he wasn't going to be like their mother, and he knew a little bit about how to be like their father. The good parts. The parts that had sage wisdom and kindness and an always open ear.

Not the parts that were absent for large parts of the year tending to the spiritual needs of a congregation.

Too much thinking. He shook his head.

"What's got my sister grumpy, I wonder?" said Ement, lightly, cheerfully.

"Something went wrong today," said Zoissette quietly.

Ement nodded and took a swig of his water skin. He knew she wouldn't be able to hold it in for long, whatever it was. And sure enough, her eyes were already starting to do that thing where they wandered around the room a bit as she gathered her thoughts.

Some kind of mental thinking... thing. He didn't pretend to understand. She was just a little weird like that.

"It was while I was running luncheon errands during school hours. There is a new kid in our class. I don't know them. But I guess the others did. I was going back to school when I came across them in the street. The others were making fun of the new kid. They called them a bastard and a heretic. They - I think they were trying to get back to school. But the others, they wouldn't let them pass. They shoved them to the ground at one point. They - they let me by, though. I didn't stop. I think-

"I think they were throwing stones by the time I'd left."

She fell silent.

"Hells, that's rough," said Ement quietly. "Stones?"

Zoissette nodded.

"Probably was a bastard."

"That shouldn't matter!" yelled Zoissette, standing up. Ement held his hands up and tried to wave her down.

"Easy, easy. Not saying that makes it right, but that's probably what it was."

Zoissette glared before sitting back down just as abruptly as she had stood up, deflating as her anger fled her as fast as it'd arrived.

"...it shouldn't have mattered."

"No, it shouldn't have," said Ement agreeably. "We're all told to be kind to the Greystones, or at least as kind to them as we are to everyone else, but nobody is, and that's just the way things are."

"It shouldn't be."

"You're right. It shouldn't be."

Zoissette went still, seeming to have run out of energy, and Ement considered the matter closed.

"Hey. Hey, look. I'll talk to father, he'll talk to the headmistress, and they'll get it all sorted, alright? It's good that you told someone. I'll take care of it from here."

Zoissette just nodded, and Ement slapped the top of the table as he stood up.

"Alright. Go ahead and get started studying, I need to finish my training," he said, walking over to Guillerme.

Guillerme studied Zoissette for a long moment before turning his attention to Ement.

"So tell me, young Ement," said Guillerme, getting right back to it. "What makes a knight?"

Ement looked to Zoissette and waited until she noticed, and he gave her his best reassuring smile.

"Being brave and defending the smallfolk, of course," he said. Guillerme rolled his eyes and cuffed him on the side of the head. Ement tried to duck, and failed, but laughed even as the hit landed.

"Take this -seriously-, lad. Dragon's not gonna give you a break so you can strut around preening your feathers. If you're gonna show off, wait until you're off my time," Guillerme groused. "A round of calisthenics oughta get somma that cheek outta you."

The training continued for the day, in a somewhat more physical vein, until Ement was exhausted. He glanced over at Zoissette a few times and noticed that she was paying rather more attention to the proceedings than usual.

Well, no matter. She'd had a bad day, and she'd be back to her usual self on the morrow, he mused.

---

"The new kid wasn't at school today," said Zoissette almost immediately after she'd taken her seat at her table.

Ement was busy loading up the training dummy machine with weights, and only responded with a grunt. Guillerme crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

"And what of it, girl?" said Guillerme.

"They were pulled out by their parents. Going to one of the settlements, the headmistress said. She said they'd be a better fit there," said Zoissette. "She didn't mention anything about what happened earlier this sennight."

"Well, father said he'd talk to her," said Ement, loading up another weight. "Guess that must've happened."

Zoissette looked down at the table. "They'd been hurt real bad. I saw them the day after. They were blue and purple and holding their arm, and they... nobody could get near them. They'd keep moving away. I wanted to... I wanted to talk to them, but they were avoiding everyone.

"It's not fair."

Guillerme laughed. "Life is not fair, girl," he said. "Just be glad your little friend is probably safer now."

"They weren't a friend," said Zoissette. "I certainly was no friend to them," she paused, and mumbled, "Might've been easier to do something if they were a friend."

Gullerme snorted, and Ement stepped back from the training dummy. "It's wound up and ready to go," said Ement. "...I think, anyway. Might need to ask mother or father if we can spare the coin for another one. This one's gone all stiff. I'm surprised it still moves."

"Still hits hard enough for me," said Guillerme, as he inspected Ement's work. "It's noisy and it's bothersome but it gets the job done, now don't it? Alright. Your block game is weak. Grab a shield."

Ement groaned and rolled his eyes as he grabbed the wooden training shield off the wall.

"None of that. You think a dragon'll maybe stick to what you like if you grump at it hard enough? Stand up straight, boy. Look it in the eyes. A knight does not shy away from what must needs be done."

Ement rolled his shoulders, shook out his arms, and nodded his head, and looked into the training dummy machine's 'eyes', which were really just two spots painted on the top most rotating section.

"I want to be a knight."

Ement and Guillerme looked over at Zoissette.

"Come again?" asked Guillerme.

"I want to be a knight," said Zoissette, standing next to her table, her head up and fists balled at her sides.

"Fine, you're a knight," said Ement, looking back to the training dummy.

"You're not taking me seriously," said Zoissette.

Ement groaned.  "Fine. Let's talk about it. A knight?" he asked, lightly. He gestured with his shield at Guillerme. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but being a knight means training, and that means Guillerme here gets another victim."

Guillerme snorted as Ement continued. "It means more than just reading rules. It means quite a lot of getting turned into meal by this bloody grindstone over here."

Zoissette stuck her nose up in the air. "I know what it means. It means being brave and strong and standing up for the smallfolk and doing the right thing."

Guillerme held out a hand towards Ement, and Ement nodded, falling silent.

"What do you mean by brave, girl."

Zoissette looked at Guillerme, and her eyes danced around the room a bit.

"...it means not being afraid."

"That's what you think, is it? Let me tell you a thing or two. Dragons don't care if you're afraid or not, and if you're not afraid of a dragon, you are a fool."

Zoissette shifted back and forth on her feet, but her gaze drifted to Guillerme, and then it stayed there.

"A knight would face a dragon anyway."

"Hells, true. But not because they're a knight. You don't get brave being a knight. You are brave, and that's what lets you be a knight. You want to be a knight? You do the right thing first. You want to be brave? You gotta figure out what it is first, girl, but I'll give you that one for free. It's when you're scared so bad you've messed your pants, but you do what needs to be done anyway.

"Figure that out. Maybe then we can talk about what it is to be a knight."

Guillerme turned from Zoissette and gestured at Ement. "And I hope you were paying attention. Get to your drills."

Ement nodded, and he set the mechanical training dummy to running. The next time he was able to spare a glance for Zoissette, she had sat back down at her table, but she wasn't studying her books.

---

"What's all the training for," asked Zoissette, without preamble. "You said a knight doesn't train to be brave, but you have to be brave to be a knight, so that's not what the training is for. Is it all entirely just to fight dragons?"

It had been a quiet day in the training room. Ement had been repairing the straps on the training shield while Guillerme inspected the room's armaments. The two stopped now.

"Not... entirely," said Guillerme, rolling his words around in his mouth a bit as he thought. "Tell me about the other day. About your not-a -friend. What do you wish you had done?"

Zoissette frowned, and swallowed, and when she spoke next her voice had a subtle shake to it. "I should have said something. I should have told the others to leave them alone. I should have done anything except - except I kept walking and- and- and I pretended I didn't see anything."

"And then what, girl?" Asked Guillerme, his voice gentle.

"And then what?" asked Zoissette, looking at him.

"And then what. You talk to them. You think that would have, what? Stopped them?  You think your words alone would scare them off? Perhaps you think they would have said, ah, well, yes. This girl has the right of it. We should listen to her?"

Zoissette looked down at the table. "I don't know."

"One of the things a knight must needs consider is the consequences of their actions. Not just for good, but also for ill. Maybe your words would have been enough. Maybe it would've staved them off. But maybe it would've just turned their ire to you. And when there's anger in their bellies and stones in their hands, what then, girl?"

Zoissette looked to the training dummy. "...I'd tell the kid they were hurting to run. And... I'd stay, I guess. Get between them and the others. And... and fight."

"And fight. Violence is persuasion through other means, girl, and a knight is ready to use it when needed. We hope it doesn't come to it, oh how we hope, but hope bleeds eternal and it don't keep the smallfolk safe. You'll do well to remember that."

Zoissette nodded, and at last fell quiet. Ement turned his attention to the shield he was repairing.

Guillerme looked thoughtful for a long bit.

"Don't forget to review your Squire's Primer, lad," he said, distracted.

Ement frowned at him, confused. That was from his early days. "Yes, Master Guillerme," he said anyway.

---

The next few days were blessedly simple for Ement. The training dummy machine still tended to make an unholy screeching racket, and Ement wasn't sure it would last much longer, but that was a problem he was well familiar with.

As for the problems of his little sister, it seemed she had finally drifted on from this most recent interest of hers and returned to her usual studies. She had her books, and her reading didn't require him or Guillerme to try to field any more of life's deeply complex questions.

At least, that's what he thought, until she walked up to Guillerme one day, her face serious.

"I want to receive a knight's training," she said.

"Not this again," groaned Ement, but Guillerme waved a hand at him, and he fell silent.

"You've been reading," said Guillerme.

Zoissette nodded.

"Why," said Guillerme, slowly, "Should I train you."

Zoissette looked crestfallen for a moment, then frowned, balled up her hands, and looked Guillerme in the face. Ement imagine it might've been intimidating if she wasn't a third his size.

"...I- I did the wrong thing. I shouldn't have been afraid. I should've stood up for them. And if I'm going to stand up for people, I need to be ready for what that means. Ready to defend."

"Standing up for certain people is a good way to make enemies, girl."

"I shouldn't be afraid to make enemies."

"You shouldn't try to find enemies, either."

"I shouldn't be afraid to make enemies if... if it means doing the right thing."

"You kept your head down. You stayed safe."

"And that didn't keep them safe. I - I want to keep people safe."

"And how'll you do that?"

Zoissette took a deep breath in. "Use words, if I can. Diplomacy, if I'm able. Violence as a last resort, but an available one. A knight defends."

"And when you fail?"

Zoissette looked down at the ground. "I already did. Because I didn't do anything in the first place."

Guillerme rubbed his chin, considering the little Elezen. Ement wanted to say something reassuring, but nothing was coming to mind that didn't sound incredibly lame. He tried anyway.

"It's not so bad, Zoissette."

Zoissette looked up at him and so did Guillerme, and Guillerme nodded, slowly. "Aye. He's got the right of it, lass."

"I do?" Asked Ement, bewildered.

Guillerme snorted, then got down on one knee, to look Zoissette in the eye.

"Failure is not an option, lass. Failure is -mandatory-. The option... the option is in how you face it."

Zoissette stared at him for a long moment before nodding slowly.

"I want to - I want to face it again. I want to be better. I want to do better," she said. "Please teach me."

Guillerme rubbed his chin more, standing back up. "You seem willing to learn, lass. And I can tell you've done some thinking about what we've talked about. I can appreciate that. Better than some of my priors, anyroad. You certainly seem determined enough. If only you'd shown that mettle before, but I can work with what you're bringing. Well. I suppose I can handle another noble brat... as an apprentice. What say you, lad?"

Zoissette lit up. Ement groaned.

"Fine. I guess we'll ask mother," said Ement.

---

It was late in the day. Dinner was done, the twins had been put to bed, and Ement had waited until everyone was present in the hearth room before getting into the matter.

It'd been a bit of a tactical decision on his part. The twins being in bed would ensure their presence did not serve as a distraction. Father, who was already settling in with a holy book into his favorite chair, would hopefully serve as a mitigating force against mother. And lastly, Zoissette would help him make his case.

Ement put on his best blankly pleasant face. "Mother, Zoissette has taken an interest in my training sessions as of late."

The Lady Vauban had not made her way to a chair yet, and did not now. Instead she stood, tall and imposing and regal, and crossed her arms as she turned her attention to Zoissette. "Is that so?" she asked, seemingly mildly. Seemingly, for Ement often had a hard time getting a handle on where her mood was at when she wasn't upset.

"I want to train to be a knight," said Zoissette, sitting up straight and looking their mother in the eye.

"And you hope to achieve this by watching your brother? I do hope you're not neglecting your duties to your siblings."

"She's not," cut in Ement before Zoissette had a chance to speak. "She's been attending my sessions for near on a moon now, and I've been keeping an eye out. She uses the time to study, but I think she's also learning from me and Guillerme."

"Guillerme and I," corrected his mother.

"Right, of course, Guillerme and I. Anyroad, Guillerme has said he's willing to train both of us," said Ement.

Lady Vauban studied him for a long moment.

"Absolutely not," she said, finally.

"Dear, perhaps we should hear the boy out," said their father, not looking up from his reading.

"It seems like it would be a better use of her time than just watching me," said Ement, breezily with a shrug, hoping he came off as only lightly invested.

"I've learned a lot from just watching him," said Zoissette, and she looked like she was about to say more when her mother cut her off.

"No, and that is final. Ement, you will be needed to take over my duties at the fort one day, and you will not be shirking this responsibility onto your little sister. As for you, Zoissette, your responsibilities are here, to our house. The twins need looked after. You need to maintain your studies. And the house must be kept in order, and I expect you to do it whenever I or your father are away. I will not waste coin we do not have on a foolish child's whimsy, nor shall I risk you wasting time that can be better spent otherwise. We each have our duties, and you each shall tend to them. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, mother" 

"...yes, mother."

Zoissette looked crestfallen, and Ement sighed. Well. There was no point to arguing with mother when she had made up her mind, and so he let the matter drop.

---

If there were further troubles with the other kids at school, or elsewhere, Ement did not hear about it. His training continued under Guillerme's watchful eye, and Zoissette continued to arrive at just around five bells to watch.

She would frequently come in with a book or two to read, but she seemed quieter somehow. And she now watched his training with a sharp focus she did not have before.

He expected that, like many of her interests, that this would pass, given time. One sennight became two became many, and still, she came in, to watch him carefully. He noticed that the training machine began to improve in operation as well, a fact he was glad of. Its terrible screeching had begun to worry him, but now, it seemed that it had worked some of its rust loose, and its movements were quieter, smoother.

It was about a moon into this new pattern when he thought he began to notice Zoissette's attention waning during the sessions, which he assumed, at first, was an early sign of her beginning to lose interest. However, he noticed that her attention was not so much waning as vanishing altogether, as she was beginning to fall asleep during his training sessions.

He was not the only one who noticed. He was fighting the training dummy one day when he heard a rather loud crack noise reverberate through the room, coming from Zoissette's table. He quickly disengaged from his fight with the machine only to see Zoissette sitting bolt upright in her chair, and one of the heavier weights for the machine leaning sideways on the table's surface.

"A knight," said Guillerme, "remains vigilant. Do you think the dragons will be kind enough to ring a bell for you before ravaging your comrades?"

"No, Master Guillerme," she said, still dazed. Guillerme snorted and turned his attention back to Ement. "And you! Do you think a dragon will let you walk away just because you got startled? Get back in there!"

Ement nodded, feeling the adrenaline in his veins fade away, and he got back to his drills. After that, he noticed Zoissette showed up to training sessions with a tea kettle and some cups to keep her company. She stopped falling asleep during his training.

It was some more sennights passed when he noticed Zoissette seemed to have picked up a limp. He thought to ask about it, but Guillerme spoke to it first.

"A knight," said Guillerme, "Looks after their health. I trust you are taking your ease with that limp, girl."

Zoissette frowned at him, but nodded. She was more alert for the rest of the sennight, and the limp went away, and Ement simply never got around to asking about it. But after that, shortly after she was walking normally again, she returned to needing the tea to stay alert.

He found himself wondering when he'd started paying so much attention to his sister's eccentricities, and resolved to go back to ignoring her. For the most part.

---

One night, Ement found himself awake at three bells in the morning, according to the bedside chronometer. Finding himself unable to return to sleep, he slipped out of bed and into the hallways of the manor.

It was quiet throughout the house of Vauban. The servants would all be long asleep, as would his family. There would be a single sentry outside maintaining a vigilant watch, and Ement was not about to bother them. He went to the kitchens first, making himself a simple sandwich, before taking to simply wandering the halls aimlessly.

His path took him past the training room, and he almost walked past it for how dark it was. He wondered briefly who had put out the torch in the hallway, but then turned his thoughts to considering the benefits of exercise in alleviating his sudden bout of insomnia. He put his hand on the doorknob, and as he twisted it, he remembered that he had not brought the key with him.

That, apparently, did not matter. The door opened smoothly. He just shook his head. Mother would be upset if she knew he'd left the door unlocked. He failed to notice how the hinges on the door no longer squeaked like they had, well, his whole life, if he'd stopped and thought about it.

The room was dimly lit already. A single torch on the corner furthest from the door had been lit. Near it was the training dummy, and near that was Zoissette.

Ement stood in the doorway, dumbfounded, as he watched Zoissette carefully getting up on the tips of her toes to place the weights on the training dummy. Before she had a chance to turn around, he had the presence of mind to back out of the room, and mostly close the door, leaving himself a tiny crack to watch through.

She glanced over in his direction periodically, but the hallway and training room both were very dark, save for the single light source that she must've lit. He realized belatedly that she must have been responsible for the light in the hallway being out as well.

As he watched, she managed to get all the weights placed onto the training dummy's various cables. She then grabbed a long-nosed thing that looked to Ement to be some kind of watering can. She pushed its nose into various joints on the training dummy, and then would tilt her head or duck down to inspect something or another before moving on. She moved quickly, and it was not long until the can had been set aside, and she was winding the training dummy.

Once it was fully wound and set, she went to the wall with the training gear, and awkwardly put on a training gambeson. Ement recognized it as the set that was sized for a tallish Hyur. Considering she had not yet hit her growth, that sort of made sense, but even then, the build of an Elezen was different from that of a Hyur, and she looked very awkward in the outfit. Then she grabbed one of the training shields, and a training sword, and then, standing close to the training dummy, she reached up, and set it into motion.

She stepped back and waited, watching as it spun up, same as he had to do every time he set it to motion. Once it was whirring along merrily, however, she hovered around its periphery, and then dove into the mess of swinging armatures and counter balances. She ducked in and out of its reach, attempting to block with her shield, and occasionally making indelicate strikes with her wooden sword.

Ement winced as she took a hit to the back, and stumbled forward in time to meet a strike to her helmet. Apparently rattled, she turned around, and another armature slammed into the back of her legs. She sprawled to the ground and quickly rolled away from the machine, underneath where its arms were swinging, and came to sit with her back against a wall, panting.

Ement wondered if he should be concerned at how many hits she had failed to block. He resolved instead to watch as she pulled a small basket close to her. A sandwich, and a water skin. Healthy food for a healthy knight, he supposed. For a healthy night. He groaned inwardly at himself for that one. It was far too late an hour to be awake. Or too early. Or something.

Ement pulled back from the doorway, closing the door quietly before sitting down against the wall in the hallway, leaning back and closing his eyes. He wasn't sure what to make of this just yet.

But it was three bells in the morning, almost four now. And there was nothing to be done that he could think of. So he made his way back to his own bed.

---

Ement continued his training. If Zoissette had realized he had been there that night, she had given no indication of it, and she continued to show up to his training sessions. Guillerme, of course, continued to train Ement directly, and Zoissette in his weird roundabout way. Ement could only guess at the man's motivations. Perhaps he felt it would be craven to ask for more coin. Or perhaps he enjoyed it as a little game. Maybe he was just fond of the girl. In any case, Zoissette continued to pay rapt attention, and Ement started to pay closer attention in turn.

Not to his own training, of course. That, he had always taken seriously. But he began to ask after his sisters' other activities when she was not watching him train. The maids reported that Zoissette was continuing to do her duty of looking after the twins. Her teachers noted that her work had shown some sign of slippage, but it was not alarming, and anyway, at least she was not showing the signs of rebellion that were so typical of her age. The church, in turn, reported that she was attentive enough to sermons.

An acolyte at the church had noticed that Zoissette's reading appetite, already voracious, had expanded greatly in breadth. Ement asked if he could see what she had been checking out, and the young woman had been happy to oblige him.

What he found was not terribly surprising, considering all that he knew now. He saw some of what he would have considered typical. Holy texts for study, drill guides for reading and writing, and her appetite for Shieldmaiden story tales had not seemed to slacken despite her age. Among her more recent reading materials were ones he could have guessed at. The Squire's Primer. A guide to modern sword and shield play, with illustrations. The Precepts of the Upright Soldier. However, he also found some interesting entries in the checkout log that he would never have guessed at.

Such as multiple requests - all fulfilled - to borrow some books from the Skysteel Manufactory. Guides to the assembly, construction, and maintenance of mechanical devices.

Such as the mechanical training dummy. And, if he had to guess, lock smithery was probably covered somewhere as well.

He thanked the acolyte, and headed home, unsure what to do with this information. On the one hand, it was not as though she was getting into any trouble. Indeed, for as annoying as she could be, Zoissette was, well, in his mother's words, a dutiful daughter; well behaved and well mannered. That she was well read as well was no surprise. It was either let her read or put up with her finding her way into the rafters or onto the roof, and the family had made their decisions on that long ago.

He wondered idly if perhaps she had simply gotten sneakier about her mischief.

And as he set his alarum for two bells, he decided that that was what was bothering him. The secrecy. That, and if either of their parents found out, well. He was not sure what rule she had broken, but he was also certain it wouldn't much matter.

And so it was in his own best interest, as well as hers, to try to curtail this disaster before it unfolded. He settled into bed, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

---

The chiming of his alarum awoke him at two bells. Ement ground his teeth, slapped the top of the chronometer to silence it, and climbed out of bed.

He had not thought to prepare, and so it took him some time to get himself together. He wanted to be dressed, for one. On his last excursion he'd been prepared for the possibility of one of the house servants seeing him in his smalls, but the idea of his sister seeing him as such was out of the question. He also took some time to find a torch, and then even longer to light it. He had intended to catch her before she had made her way to the training room, but it was nearly a full bell later by the time he had fully sorted himself out and made his way there.

The torch in the hallway had been put out again. He lit it as he passed by.

He tested the door to the training room, and found it unlocked once more. He quietly opened it a little bit, and could hear the soft whirring of the training dummy, and the rather less soft sound of wooden armatures as they made their impacts. He let himself in, and went to sit at Zoissette's table.

There was a tool roll on top of it, and several books. He unrolled the tool roll, finding several pieces of bent metal he did not recognize in there. He looked to the books, and recognized them as being on the list the acolyte had provided them. A book on the maintenance of simple machines. A book full of pictures of various attacks and defenses a knight might use against a variety of opponents. A book on lock smithing. He decided to open the book on the workings of mechanical training dummies.

He leafed through it, looking at diagrams and glancing over mechanical descriptions. He paused with a frown on the section about counterweights. He looked up to look over at the machine, and was startled to see Zoissette standing a scant few yalms away, her arms crossed, and a scowl on her face.

"You shouldn't be here," she said matter-of-fact as she moved to roll the tools back up. "Why are you here?"

"Uhm, well, you know how it is," he said, beginning one of his easy explanations, before stopping himself. "Wait. What am I doing here, what are you doing here?"

"I'm training," Zoissette said.

"I can see that," he said, getting up and walking over to the machine. "At three bells in the dark," he added, as he looked at the book once more, and compared what was written to what he saw.

"When else would I do it?" she asked. Ement didn't answer, as he examined the weights on the machine, and read the book one more time to verify what he'd seen.

"You're using the weights that I use," he said quietly. "You are supposed to alter them for the person using them. These are far too heavy for you - that means..." he looked through the book some more. He wasn't actually sure what that meant.

"It means it hits harder and swings faster," said Zoissette.

"Fury, Zoissette. You're a third my weight."

"More than that. And if you can do it, I can do it."

"This thing might kill you!"

"Hasn't yet. And besides, dragon's not going to ask me how much I -weigh-," she said, mimicking the form of one of Guillerme's turns of phrase.

Ement rubbed his face. He'd learned how to deal with mother seasons ago. Bratty little sisters were beginning to prove somewhat more difficult.

Especially at three bells in the hells-forsaken morning.

"You're supposed to be sleeping," he said, switching tacks.

"So are you."

"I'm only awake because you are."

"Well, then go back to sleep," and she looked up at him with a big warm smile on her lips and a gleam in her eyes. He rubbed his face again.

"Look. You can't keep doing this" he said, gently. "You need sleep, same as everyone else."

"...I know."

"And where'd you get a lock smithing set, anyway?"

"Skysteel Manufactory. I asked nicely," she said.

Ement closed his eyes tightly, and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

"Alright. You're going to return the tools and the books," he said.

"But-"

"Let me finish. I'll let you have the key to lock up when I'm done training for the day. That way you can let yourself in. Alright?"

"...you'll let me keep training then? You won't tell mother?"

Ement looked around the room, and sighed.

"I'm -pretty- sure you'd just find some other way to be a brat," he said. "This way, I get to set conditions. A knight's word is their bond. Is yours as good?"

Zoissette nodded.

"Good. Then here's my conditions. Do this closer to bedtime. I can't -believe- you picked between two and three bells to get started."

"I thought I'd be less likely to be caught."

"Yes, well, you're also destroying both of our sleeps. Both of ours? Whatever. Second, less weight."

She jutted her chin out at him. "I was handling it okay."

"Wait. Is that why you were limping a while back?"

Zoissette suddenly found the floor very interesting.

"Sette."

"Maybe."

"Halone preserve. Less weight. Okay?"

"...okay."

"Alright. Alright," said Ement. "Fine. This is fine. Help me clean this place up, and let's go to bed already."

---

Once they were done cleaning up, they didn't get very far past the door.

Standing in the hallway, her arms crossed, as tall and as regal and as angry as ever, was the Lady Vauban.

"Did you think," she began slowly, "That I was ignorant of the going ons of my own house?"

That's exactly what Ement thought, now that it'd been brought to his attention, but what he said was, "Oh, was I supposed to?"

His mother's expression darkened, and in turn, Ement's expression brightened, as he shifted to an easy, lazy play of calm ignorance.

"You know full well that neither of you should be awake at this hour. And certainly not fooling around in the training room."

Ement switched to looking confused, frowning as he tapped a finger against his lips. "I don't remember there being any rules about when we should be awake."

"Do not play games with me, boy."

"I would never dream of it. Though I should get back to dreaming. But first, surely you've noticed how quiet the doors are in the manor as of late? Dutiful Zoissette here has taken on the burden of maintenance in our home."

His mother frowned. "What are you on about."

"Well, she didn't want to bother anybody. So of course, when she wakes up to check on the twins, she's also come by the rooms to, uhm... what is it you did again, Zoissette?"

Zoissette had been standing next to him the whole time. To her credit, she did not attempt to flee or to hide, but instead, had stood her ground alongside him. She stood straighter and taller, now, as she answered.

"The training armature requires oiling at regular intervals if it is to maintain efficacy without damaging itself. The self same oil serves similar needs in door hinges. I have taken care of both."

Ement was silently grateful that, for once, she did not seem to find it necessary to explain every detail of her activities, even though he wished she hadn't mentioned the training machine.

Their mother glared at the both of them, her mouth pressed into a thin line, and her eyes slowly narrowing.

"To bed with both of you. We shall speak more on this on the morrow."

"Right, right, of course, mother. Come on, Zoissette," said Ement, turning down the hallway. Zoissette was quick to catch up to him.

"There is no -way- we're going to get away with this," she muttered to him.

"Oh absolutely not," he agreed. "But now we've got time to make our excuses. And more importantly, get some sleep. Was it -really- necessary to do this at three bells in the morning?"

"Two and a half. I already -told- you why I picked this time."

Ement groaned.

"...thank you," she said. Ever polite.

"Oh, don't thank me yet," he said breezily. "She's still going to be cross on the morrow."

---

Ement stood nervously. He kept glancing over at Guillerme nearby, who was leaning against the wall, seemingly unperturbed.

He was not sure he had ever been so aware of every ilm of his being. He tried and failed to resist the urge to swallow again. He could feel his fingers as they played along the hilt of his practice sword, each one uncurling and tightening in turn. He strained his ears to listen to the tolling of the five afternoon bells, and heard them begin to ring out.

He turned his gaze to the door of the training room as it opened, and Zoissette walked in backwards, keeping an eye out on the hallway as she came in. She closed the door gently and turned around.

Ement could not see Lady Vauban's expression from where he was standing, but he saw Zoissette's response to it as she startled. She started to cringe, collapsing inward, but then something shifted in her. She looked up at their mother, her eyes suddenly bright, and she stepped forward, carrying herself with the same regality their mother often affected.

"Mother," said Zoissette. Defiant. With some kind of fire in her. Ement just hoped she wasn't about to get them both burned.

He considered a possible future as some kind of Chocobo waste handler.

"Zoissette. Care to explain yourself?"

"...and rather better than you lot did last night," said Guillerme. The man seemed to not care whether he was here or not, and his tone was much the same as he might've used to discuss the weather. "A knight does not prevaricate."

Zoissette glanced at Guillerme, and then looked at Ement. Ement nodded his head, once. In for a Gil, in for the whole bag, he figured.

"I was training," said Zoissette. "I wish to learn to fight. To defend."

"Did your brother put you up to that?"

"No. I'm choosing to do it. For myself."

"For yourself. And what of your other duties? Your other responsibilities? I hear tell your grades have been slipping, young lady. And who's looking after the twins?"

"I am. And my grades are still good. They'd be better if I didn't have to sneak out at night."

Ement suppressed a groan.That's probably just going to make her madder, he thought.

"You would not be sneaking out if you -obeyed-," said the Lady Vauban, her voice ice. Ement disliked that he was right. "I am very disappointed in you, daughter."

"Why? I would think you'd be proud! Two fighters in the family, and I can still look after the house! You fight, why can't I learn to?"

"Enough. This is not a discussion. This is an edict. You will no longer sneak out at night to the training room. Do I make myself clear?"

Zoissette frowned at the floor.

"Lady Vauban, if I may?" Said Guillerme.

"You may."

"The girl's grades are suffering because of terrible sleep, aye, but look at what she's accomplishing despite that. And the boy's training has come far enough along. I think he'll make as good a squire as any, a good knight, even. So I think we should push him. Let me teach him summore, and in turn, let him teach the girl. Think of it as good leadership training for the lad. I believe that if you can't teach what you know, you don't really know it. And I think he does, well enough. And since I wouldn't be training the girl directly, I wouldn't see any reason to charge your house any coin for the privilege."

The Lady Vauban turned and looked cooly at Guillerme. He shrugged at her in response.

"You know my reputation. You know I'm good for it. And if this does turn out to be some flight of fancy of hers, like you said to me this morning, well that's fine too. Then your son will learn how to deal with a less than stellar soldier. Both roads, he gets experience, good experience that'll serve him well. If she sticks to it, your house'll gain another sword arm when she's of age, like she just said. If not, well, keeps her out of trouble, right? I'm practically watching her anyroad."

Ement fidgeted, unhappily watching the drama play out.

Lady Vauban held her gaze on Guillerme for what felt like several minutes.

"...perhaps I have been too harsh," she conceded at last. She turned to Zoissette. "It is important that you understand, dear daughter, just how difficult it is to balance my responsibilities between home and the front. I know I am absent often, and I am able to do so, because you have ever been a dutiful daughter.

"But if this is truly the path you wish to pursue... then I suppose I shall stand in its way no longer. But you will deal honestly with me in the future. And if you neglect any of your duties in any fashion, this will be the first one to go. Do I make myself clear?"

Zoissette stood up, glancing over at Ement, and then mimicking his posture of being at attention, chin thrust into the air to look up at the Lady Vauban. "Yes, mother."

"And you, Ement. It sounds as though... you have promise. Keep to your work, then. Make me proud."

"Yes, mother," he heard himself say. It came out as a croak. Was his throat so dry?

"Master Guillerme," said Lady Vauban. "Pray continue your work as discussed."

"Of course, Lady Vauban," said Guillerme, pushing off the wall and giving the Lady Vauban a salute. After a moment's hesitation, she returned it, before turning to glide out of the room.

Ement let out a deep sigh and rubbed his chest. He hadn't been fully aware of just how stiffly he had been standing. He looked over at Zoissette, and found her expression unreadable, but he gave her a thumbs up and a grin anyway.

"Well, that could've gone worse," he said.

Guillerme grunted. "Go clean yourself up, lad, I can smell the stress stink on you from over here. Both of you, get out of here. We'll start the work on the morrow at five bells. And Zoissette?"

Zoissette looked to him.

"Get some bloody practice gear that fits, I don't care how."

Zoissette nodded, and practically ran out of the room in eagerness. Ement chuckled, despite himself.

"Oh, she doesn't know what she's getting into," he said. And then winced as Guillerme cuffed him along the ear.

"Neither do you, sprat. I'm going to drive you harder now. Let's see what we can't make out of a pair of spoiled noble brats."

---

It took a few days for her to get armor that fit, and a few more for them to really get into a rhythm. As promised, Guillerme taught Ement, and Ement in turned trained Zoissette. Lecture mostly consisted of Guillerme gently correcting Ement while Ement tried to pass on what he'd learned. Practice had Ement going up against the training machine first while Guillerme watched, and then Zoissette trying to mimic what Ement had done while Ement pointed out flaws in her form or room for improvement.

Ement wondered how long it'd be before they were beyond what Guillerme considered the fundamentals and he'd start in on the tangents he was prone to. After all, he hadn't heard Guillerme tell him what a dragon wouldn't let him do in a while. And for that matter, he'd seemed to have temporarily dropped asking open questions about what made a knight.

(Pain and tired muscles and too much thinking, thought Ement.)

He didn't have to wait for too many days.

"So tell me, lass," said Guillerme as Zoissette and Ement were pulling on their practice armor. "Why do you wanna be a knight so bad? You think there's glory in it?"

"Ser?" Asked Zoissette as she pulled one of the straps tight. 

She winced, and Ement shook his head, walking over to help her. "You don't have to overcompensate for wearing oversized gear anymore," he muttered to her. She just stood still and nodded.

"You heard me, lass. What are you hoping to get outta this."

"Well, not glory, ser," said Zoissette, nodding at Ement as he helped. She mouthed 'thank you' at him before she continued. "I - I don't think there's going to be much glory just in helping defend someone. Which is what I want to learn to do."

"Defend, huh? More to a knight than defending the weak and downtrodden, but let's stick to that for now. Why?"

"That seems... reason enough to me, ser. Because - because it's the right thing to do? The, uhm, honorable thing to do?"

"Right? Who said it was right?"

"Uhm," said Zoissette, biting her lip. "I - uhm. I guess ... me? Well, I mean... father. And mother both. They tell us to help others out. And - and well, I want to. I, uhm, I didn't really think about it."

"Acting without thinkin'? Some might call that foolish."

Zoissette frowned and crossed her arms, looking at the ground.

"You think on that. You also said it was the honorable thing to do. Ement, what've I said about that?"

"You once told me that honor is vainglory that gets knights killed, ser." Said Ement. He remembered that from an early lesson.

"Can be. Can be."

"But ser!" protested Zoissette. "That's - that's what a knight does. They are supposed to be honorable."

"Surely are. I find the word a bit overstuffed. Said too often. A knight goes out to die, we say it's the honorable thing to do. A knight challenges someone to a duel, it's for honor. We defend the honor of our fair maidens and the honor of our fair names and before you know it we've spilt more blood than truth and where's honor then. It's a bit like the word love. Everyone uses it, nobody understands it, and it's worn so thin as to be almost meaningless."

"I think the word love should mean something," said Zoissette quietly.

"Maybe it does to those precious few who say it and -mean- it every time. Otherwise, what's the point? Though you're onto something lass. These words we use should have the power we afford them. They should mean something. Maybe we start from scratch on 'em. Can't help you with love, Fury knows it's lost on me, but maybe we can salvage honor. Go fetch your primer, lass, tell me what it says about honor."

Zoissette nodded, as she went to her little table, and looked through the books there.

"I'm not sure I understand, ser. What are you getting at?" Asked Ement, feeling a bit annoyed. He'd given the answer he'd been taught, and hadn't really expected it to change.

"Nothin'. Maybe nothin'. Somethin' more than when we started, though. You should think on it too. Have to start sometime."

"Do I?" Asked Ement, peevishly, and Guillerme crossed the room to give him a cuff upside the ear. Ement laughed as it landed, though, feeling his tension let go a bit.

"Honor," said Zoissette, "According to the Primer, is adherence to what is right, or to a conventional standard of conduct." She shifted her weight on her feet. "...that's the second definition anyway. I think it's the more correct one."

"Hnh," said Guillerme. "What was the other definition?"

"Great respect or great esteem, Master Guillerme."

"Why not go with that one?"

"It... it's not what I want, not really, I don't think."

"No? Respect can be a powerful ally. Tells you who your friends are. Can also fetch you friends. Friends who share your ideals."

"I suppose. But... but it can't be the only reason to do something. Right? Otherwise, you're just... doing it for selfish reasons, really. I think. And, I mean, there's respect, like... being treated okay, but then there's respect, you know, like being treated as superior.

"I'm not, though. I'm not better than anybody else."

Ement nodded sagely. It was a lesson from their father he had been careful to instill in his children. "That's what father tells us," he said to Guillerme. "We may be noble, but that just means responsibilities. It's easy for us to pretend we're better, but really, we should be servants. And our first duty is to Ishgard, above all."

"Your first duty?" Said Guillerme.

"...yes ser." said Ement.

"Hmn. Yes. I suppose," said Guillerme.

He said nothing more on the matter that day.

---

"Your training is coming along well. I look forward to one day calling you as one of our own, as ser Vauban," said Guillerme.

Zoissette spoke up. "Shouldn't he be ser Ement?" she asked.

"Guillerme here prefers the older style of address," Ement said.

"Indeed I do. Indeed, I do," said Guillerme, crossing his arms. He got that distant look in his eyes he often did when he was talking about days long past, and Ement decided to take a moment to settle in, leaning against the wall. "I suppose it is well that many houses have done so well as to be able to spare multiple sons and daughters to the work of knighthood. That it's just easier to refer to them by their first names. And I understand the desire to mark them as individuals, to say, look, this one, this person, it is them who has the blessing of the Archbishop. But the old way of address... it had its charm, its purpose, you must understand. It said the opposite. It told us that this person was someone who swore fealty to their family. The first step in many of a path to higher devotion, higher calling. For by this, a knight would show they serve their family. And their family, well, they served the Holy See, and the Holy See served all of Ishgard. At least once upon a time, anyway-"

"Guillerme!" said Ement, alarmed.

"Forget that last. Anyway, all the way up,  you see, until the knight serves Halone herself. And to serve Halone is the highest purpose of a knight, to serve Her is to serve the very star itself, do you see?"

Ement looked over to see his sister slowly nodding. "So you prefer to call a knight by their family name. Ser Vauban, of Ishgard, of Halone... of the star," she said.

"Just so," said Guillerme.

"Mother prefers that also, and I prefer not getting into arguments with mother, so it's what our family will use," said Ement, pushing off the wall. "But I'm no ser, Vauban or otherwise, just yet. I still need to go through squirehood."

"And to get that far, you still need to finish the preliminaries," said Guillerme. "But I have high hopes. High hopes indeed. Not much longer now, son. Don't disappoint."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Mother would never let me hear the end of it," said Ement.

---

Ement, not having the responsibilities of having to take care of the twins, was often the first one to show up to the training room. Having a question for Guillerme, he made certain to show up particularly early one day. Guillerme was waiting, of course. He often was there a half bell before he had to be, checking the training equipment and going over his notes.

"Master Guillerme?" asked Ement. "I've been meaning to ask. What do you get out of this?"

"Whatever do you mean, lad?"

"I mean... you training me and Zoissette. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful, but - ser, I know your history. You've trained members of the Temple Ward. You could practically write your own Gil balance. But instead you're here, working for, well. I'm not sure how much, but Sette tends the books sometimes. She's shown me the ledgers. We can't afford you."

Guillerme laughed. "Clearly you can, lad, for here I am."

"Right, sure, but... why?"

"Hnfh. Why indeed."

Guillerme crossed his arms behind his back, and paced a bit.

"... I trained Temple Knights, it's true. Used to be, someone had a promising young lad or lass, they'd send them to me, I'd show them the lashes. Put 'em through their paces. Some of Ishgard's finest fighters have gone by me, they say.

"But that's the problem, lad. Our finest -fighters-. Not our finest knights. I used to think that all I had to do was teach 'em to hold a shield and wield a sword, and the rest would work itself out. Good breeding, I thought, would make good men and women. And the church would help 'em stick to Halone's breast. Halonic men and women, doing Holy work, defending the realm.

"It took me too long to realize how wrong I was, lad. And the damage is done now. I've raised a few good knights, but also too many ... well. Scoundrels. Highwaymen with holy shields. Thugs that go down to the Brume or the low city and kick smallfolk for fun."

Guillerme stopped pacing, and looked at Ement. Ement thought he looked suddenly older, somehow. The lines in his face ran deeper. He noticed Guillerme had stooped a bit, his shoulders slumped down low, and Ement bowed his head, to look away. He felt afraid he'd asked the wrong question.

"I'm - I'm sorry, ser. I meant no disrespect."

"The disrespect's warranted, lad. Don't be sorry. Stand up straight. Like I trained you. Look at me square."

Ement swallowed and did as he was told, looking into Guillerme's eyes, and sensed a depth in them he hadn't noticed before.

"I'm trying to make up for that mistake, lad. Better knights for a better Ishgard. The current generation's a loss, but the next, well. Had to find stock first, though. I looked among the Brume, but I'm not of them. Couldn't connect with them. They saw a threat, thinking me either fit to take advantage of them, or someone who was just there to remind 'em of how they were lesser. And also, a knight - a proper knight - they need support. Armor and weapons and someone to take care of all that. Nobody in the Brume has that. So then I tried the minor houses. Your mother - well, she's got a reputation. Good soldier, does well by hers. Good teacher, so I hear. I thought, well, maybe some of that would've rubbed off on her sprats. So here I am. Yours is a minor house. High enough up that you can maybe afford a knight or two. Low enough to not be spoiled by the indulgences Ishgard allows her high houses.

"And I found you two. Well, just you at first, lad, and while you were a good study with the sword, I found I was struggling to really say what I wanted to say, to try to teach you what good really was. But then your sister showed up, with her heart too big and her head too smart, and, well."

Guillerme laughed, a dry, brittle thing, but a laugh nonetheless. Ement smiled nervously, unsure how to respond.

"The questions I've been asking aren't just for you and her, lad. They're for me. Maybe they're for every knight. I told you, if you can't teach it, you don't know it, but that's a small lie. In the teaching is also the learning, and, well. I'm not learned yet. But trust me, lad, I'm earning exactly what I want here."

Ement heard the bells ringing in the distance as the door to the training room opened, and Zoissette at last made an appearance. Ement glanced between her and Guillerme.

"...thank you, ser." said Ement, quietly.

"Aye, lad. Let's just get on with it, shall we? I get any more morose and I'll need to turn to my cups."

Guillerme began the day's instructions, but Ement found himself distracted, trying to figure out the riddle of the man's words.

---

Sennights turned to moons and they all passed in much the same way as they had. Zoissette no longer fell half asleep during training sessions, but she did start to stay in the training room after them. Early on her studies had been more general, but they had become specific, as she turned her attentions to astrology and arcanistry. She was staying up late in order to keep up with said studies, but despite that, did not neglect her knight's training, taking it as seriously as she ever had. Guillerme, true to his word, drove Ement harder, and Ement in turn did what he could to teach Zoissette. It was slower going, but both Elezen grew into it.

One day, Zoissette came into the training room, and looked as though she was on the verge of crying, but was keeping it in. She walked over to where Ement and Guillerme were standing. The room fell quiet.

"...something on your mind, girl?" prompted Guillerme gently.

"It happened again," said Zoissette. "Not a new kid this time. One of the one's that's been there a while. Not... not a friend. But... the rumors are, his mother left his father to go join the heretics."

"Any truth to the rumors?" asked Ement. Zoissette shook her head.

"Bet she just -left- the bastard, then," said Ement. "If it was heretic business, the whole family'd be ousted."

"That doesn't matter," said Zoissette.

"Rather does to the Inquisition, I might think," replied Ement.

"Let her finish," said Guillerme, and Ement fell quiet. "So what'd you do about it, girl?"

"I told them to stop. To leave him alone."

"Oh, and that was it, then?" asked Guillerme.

Zoissette took a deep breath in. "...no. They started to call me names. They told me I must be a heretic too, or a dragon swiver-"

"Language," said Ement, almost automatically. He immediately planted his face in his palm.

Guillerme looked at him and chuckled. "You so old as to forget three summers past, son? She knows what a swivin' is, and probably much more colorful language aside."

"Halone preserve, forget I said anything. Go on, Sette," said Ement.

"...anyroad, there was yelling, and... one of them picked up a stone and threw it at me."

"Well then. What happened then?" prompted Guillerme.

"They missed, and I... I looped my arm through my carrying bag's loops and used it as a shield. The rest of them got started, trying to hit both of us. I got in front. I mostly didn't get hit. He got knocked down, though. And... that's when I charged them. Knocked one of them over, got him on the ground, hit him a few times.

"One of them pulled me up, and I hit them, knocked them over too. Dropped two more... the rest of them ran. I... I stayed behind, to try to help the other one up. The one who was being made fun of. The one I was trying to defend."

Zoissette took another deep breath, and steadied herself. "He shoved me away when he got up. He yelled at me. Told me he didn't need help. Then... he ran away too."

She looked down at the ground, clenching and unclenching her fists. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

"Well, maybe you were, and maybe you weren't, lass," said Guillerme. "Did you stop to ask if he needed help?"

Zoissette looked up at him with a frown. "No? I mean - no, of course not. He obviously did."

"And yet he didn't appreciate it much when you gave it to him."

"I don't understand."

"Think about it some. In the meanwhile, dress out. We've still got training."

Zoissette nodded, and moved over to retrieve her training gear. Guillerme rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

It was an hour later, both Elezen panting and exhausted, when Zoissette spoke up again.

"Retribution."

"What?" asked Ement.

"Retribution. They might go back for him later, when I'm not around. Or... or he thought he'd just take the hits, and hoped they'd leave him alone in the future," said Zoissette.

"Maybe... maybe. Things to consider. And what about you, lass?" asked Guillerme.

Zoissette looked confused. "Aren't we talking about me? What about me?"

"Why'd you wade into a mess what weren't yours, lass?"

"That's... that's why I'm doing this at all. That's why I'm learning this. To defend people. To keep people from being hurt. Because I can. Because that's... that's what I want to do. To do the right thing."

"And what made it right, lass? Just because you felt it so?"

"Well... yes."

"Hmn. Good knights trust their instincts, I suppose," said Guillerme. He turned away and clasped his hands behind his back. "But far too many of the knights that I have trained have claimed to be acting in the name of the Holy See and its edicts on their way to bash some poor otherwise-innocent bugger's head in. Certainly, they feel right to do as they do."

"It's not the same," said Zoissette.

"No?" said Guillerme. "Don't get me wrong, lass, I agree, but why is it not the same?"

"Well, they're - they're imposing their will on others just because they can. They're not trying to help!"

"And you're tryin' to help, you say, but it wasn't wanted. Aren't you also just imposing your will?"

Zoissette frowned, and Ement could see her shoulders tense, her fingers working her shield-strap as she thought.

Ement thought to ease the tension he felt in the room, and cleared his throat. "Well, I'd say the difference is that Zoissette's man is free to think his thoughts afterwards, with his head rather unabashed, wouldn't you say?"

Zoissette and Guillerme both turned to look at him, Zoissette still frowning, Guillerme's expression unreadable, damn the man. But that was fine. Ement grinned, and spread his arms out wide, and offered a small bow. The tension was thinning, he was certain.

"...you're right," said Zoissette.

"I mean, maybe," said Ement, lightly.

"No, you're - I think I understand the difference. Those other knights, they claim to know and do the right thing, but - but they're not acting on behalf of Ishgard or her people. Not really. I - I was. My intervention may not have been wanted, but what I did, I didn't do it for me. I did it for them. I did - I did what I thought they might've wanted me to do, if they'd had the power to ask for it."

Guillerme nodded, slowly. "And what then if they still don't want it, lass? I would prefer not to train another would-be tyrant, claimin' just as you claim, that they're doing right on behalf of the people for the people, in the people's name, whatever."

Zoissette swallowed. "...then it's important what Ement said. That... that they're alive and healthy and well and capable of being mad about what I've done after."

Ement crossed his arms. He hadn't really meant to have a point, but apparently his little sister had found one.

"...but it's not enough, is it?" Finished Zoissette, suddenly timid.

"Hmm?"

"It's... it's not enough just to... to feel like I'm doing the right thing, is it? I mean, I'm still pretty sure I did. He - he can be mad at me, but like Ement said, at least he isn't hurt, but maybe I'm still not thinking this all the way through. Not as far as I should."

Zoissette's voice trailed off. "Who determines what's right? I'm - I'm still not sure."

"... I did say a good knight trusts their instincts. A great knight, though, a great knight thinks about them. It's a struggle, lass, make no mistake.

"And the best of us," said Guillerme quietly, "Weighs their soul against the very star itself."

Ement watched as Zoissette swallowed nervously. She looked down at the ground, then back up at Guillerme's back.

"I'm... I'm not sure I'm good enough for that, ser," she said.

"Well. Maybe, maybe not, Maybe not yet. But keep it in mind, lass. I'm glad you're thinking about it at all. Keep that up. Maybe you'll learn one day."

"I'll - I'll do my best, ser."

"I hope so," said Guillerme, still quiet.

---

Guillerme paced slowly in front of the two, his hands clasped behind his back, seemingly deep in thought.

"What makes a knight?" he asked. He seemed to be asking himself as much as anyone.

Ement glanced sideways at his sister. She looked back at him.

"I'm not sure anymore, ser," Ement admitted. "I thought it was things like duty. Honor. The ability to fight when needed. I think... ser, I'm sorry. I'll just be happy to serve in my own way. To fight for Ishgard. I intend to be a good soldier."

"And that'll be enough, lad, that'll be enough. I think your heart's true enough. Truer than some of my priors. Aye, I'll take it. Tell me, though. What do you think duty and honor mean? Maybe we can get something outta this yet."

Ement took a deep breath in before answering. "Duty is what we're supposed to do. Defend people. Fight Ishgard's enemies. Uphold our responsibilities. Honor is... I think the book's right. Adherence to what's right. I think that's what the two definitions it had were for, actually. You do the right thing, and then you can be respected."

"Good lad. Zoissette?"

Zoissette was tapping her lips with a finger, looking thoughtful. "I'm still stuck on... who determines what's right and what's wrong?"

Guillerme stopped and looked up at the ceiling.

"Yer onto something, lass. Keep going."

"Well, it's like Ement said. Duty is what we are supposed to do, and honor is adherence to what is right. I thought I was doing my duty when I tried to stop the other students from hurting that boy. I thought I was behaving in an honorable fashion. And I still think I'm right. But you were right, too. I should have thought about it more. Why was it right? I think it was right, the boy I tried to help didn't. We can't both be right. I mean, I guess we could both be wrong, but... who's choosing what's right and what isn't?

"Halone, maybe, but all we have from her is what I can read. She's not telling me anything directly. So... I guess I have to figure it out myself. Same thing for duty. Who tells me what I'm supposed to do? I ... I would've guessed the Holy See, but - but you've made it sound like maybe that's not for the best, if they're just bullies too."

"Sette," said Ement, looking sideways at her.

Zoissette rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about me, big brother, it's just us. I know better than to go yelling that from the rooftops."

Ement shook his head. Guillerme nodded a bit, and resumed his pacing.

"...maybe that's it," he said.

"Ser?" asked Zoissette.

"We've been dancing around it, haven't we. What makes a knight? Well. An adherence to duty. Honor to duty. But what duty? What is our duty? Something fundamental."

Guillerme paused his pacing again, and rocked back and forth on his feet.

"Your first duty," he said, slowly, "It's not to Ishgard. It can't be. Ishgard isn't there in the dirt with you. It must be to yourself. And anyone can claim they're actin' on behalf of the people but not mean it. But perhaps we can rely on something deeper than just that. Not to what you feel, not just what you think. To your own ideals. To ... something true. Something deep, something you build. Something you challenge yourself to. Something you know. Something you are. Everything and more."

"... to a personal truth," said Zoissette.

"To a personal truth," said Guillerme. He looked thoughtful. "Aye, lass. Because when you're on the field, or bleedin' in the ditch, there's no book you can look to, no pretty words from a comrade. You're gonna have to trust yourself to do the right thing. And that means you're going to have to know what the right thing is.

"A challenge, then, to each of you. You'll go on to be a fine knight, lad. I know it, and I'm proud of what we've made here. And to you, lass, even if you never pick up the sword and shield again, you've still acquitted yourself well. And taught me a thing or two, if I want to be honest. So, the same challenge to you. To the first duty. To the truth. Your personal truth, that will forever guide you both, and if you build it right, will guide you true. Can you do that?"

"Yes, ser," said Ement.

Zoissette looked thoughtful for a moment, and Ement watched her eyes wander, as she slowly nodded to herself.

"To the first duty. To a personal truth. To serve my house. To serve Ishgard. To serve the realm. To serve Halone. That I might serve the star.

"...does that sound right?"

Guillerme nodded. "Aye, lass. I think we've found it. It sounds right enough."

Zoissette stood up straight, arms back, head high.

"I can do that, ser."

"...very good. Ement, you'll get yours when your squirehood's done. Zoissette, hand me your sword."

Zoissette looked at Guillerme questioningly, but handed over her practice sword without comment.

"Kneel, lady," said Guillerme gently.

Zoissette looked between Ement and Guillerme, and then slowly knelt down on one knee.

"And bow your head."

She did.

"By the power invested in me - which is none; under the authority granted through the Holy See, which it hasn't been - and under Halone's watchful gaze, may she ever watch over you - I hereby declare you to be ser Vauban, Lady Zoissette of the house Vauban, a knight, even if only in heart, and not yet in name or in deed. But yer a good enough of a knight for me, lady. No matter what you do, I believe you will serve well. Rise, and take up your weapon."

Guillerme tapped Zoissette one one shoulder, and then the other. Zoissette curled up a hand in front of her face, as she appeared to pray for a moment before looking up at Guillerme. Guillerme flipped the practice sword around, and held it out to her, hilt first.

Before taking the sword, Zoissette looked to where her practice shield was laying, and picked it up, strapping it onto her arm. She then stood up slowly, and took the practice sword from Guillerme, and sheathed it, and stood tall once more.

"If you ever decide to fully commit to following in your brother's footsteps, lady," said Guillerme, "I am certain you will be among the best of us."

He looked to Ement.

"I think my lessons have come to an end, young lad. I have nothing more to teach you, and I think I'm as learned as I'm like to get."

Ement nodded to Guillerme, and after a moment of consideration, he saluted. Zoissette did likewise.

"May Halone watch over you both," he said. "I'll speak with your mother later, Ement, and we'll get you set up with a squireship. In the meanwhile, keep to your drills, both of you. Even if you don't plan on fightin', lady, it's a good foundation. It'll keep you healthy and your mind sharp. And never stop asking questions. Even if you have to ask 'em of the Holy See itself."

"Aye, ser," Ement said at the same time as his sister, and he looked over and gave her a grin. She seemed to be paying more attention to some distance only she could see, though. Ement shrugged.

"Will you still be around, Master Guillerme?" asked Ement.

"Aye, lad. I'll help you with your drills until you actually get that squireship, don't you worry. And your sister too, if she wants to stick with it, but I don't think there's much left for you here, is there?"

Zoissette shuffled her feet a bit. "I... I guess not. I'll keep up with the drills though, if you don't mind. But... you're right. I think I'll be spending more time with my books. But - but thank you, Master Guillerme. I'll - I'll try to live up to your ideals."

Guillerme snorted. "Yours as much as mine, Lady. But I'll hold you to that. For now though, we're done for the day. Go ahead and get the place cleaned up, and I'll be back on the morrow. No more lessons. Just training, lad. Enough to keep that sword sharp, 'til you're a proper squire, alright?"

"Yes ser."

"Good lad," said Guillerme.

And then he was gone.

"Well, what do you think of that, ser Vauban? Looks like you got your knighthood before me. Gotta say, I'm jealous," said Ement, grinning at Zoissette.

She was still just standing there, though, a faraway look in her eyes.

"...to the star," she said. She looked down at her sword, and then to her shield, and at last, to her brother.

"You think too much," he said.

"Maybe," she said quietly.

But then she gave him a big smile, all brightness and light.

"But I think I can do it," she said.

Ement had to admit to himself, he wasn't quite sure what she meant. But he believed her.

"For the first duty," she said.

"The first duty," he echoed.

[adenil-umano]

[Read on AO3]

Last Gift

“Are you boarding?” the ticket taker asks again, as if Nandor is delaying him. As if Guillermo’s name is not still echoing down the platform, syllables sitting round and sharp on Nandor’s tongue. Guillermo de la Cruz. When Nandor had said his full name it had burned him, a sizzle of flesh so slight he might have missed it if not for the fact that in that moment his entire world had narrowed to a single man.

He rises to his toes as if height will help him see further, help him spot that curly mop of hair rushing up the steps, help him see those soft, brown eyes looking back for him. But Nandor sees nothing but shadow, and he is alone.

“Sir, we really need to—”

“Just a moment,” Nandor hisses. Where is he? “Guillermo!”

“Sir, I really can’t hold up the train for…this.”

“You will give me a moment!” he says again, this time making it a command. The human leans back against the door jamb, his eyes cloudy with hypnotic magic.

Nandor realizes he is clutching the suitcase very tightly. His claws dig into the black handles and collect fine shavings of plastic beneath his nails. The suitcase is light as a feather and Nandor has the sudden, unbearable thought that it might be empty. It had been so easy to drag behind him, made such a soft sound as it clunked against the stairs. Many centuries have passed since Nandor carried a burden that was truly heavy. Not since he died and was reborn with a different type of burden, one which will never leave him. And here, now, he imagines that the suitcase is empty. That Guillermo gave it to him as a distraction, to make Nandor feel like he was helping while Guillermo slipped away into the night. Left him once more. Guillermo never intended to meet him at the platform. Never intended to travel the world with Nandor, to be with him once and for all. For eternity.

He falls to his knees and the concrete platform is cold and wet even through his cloak. Guillermo will clean it later, he thinks, and then, No. I will clean it later. He doesn’t know what to with the thought, whether it should make him feel proud or hollow, or whether he should scream that he is confident. That he is strong. That he needs no one. He pushes the thought away so that it can become another feeling to run from.

Nandor unzips the suitcase. Clothes tumble forth and land in a rumpled heap of brown, black, and blue at Nandor’s feet. Guillermo’s laptop slides out on top of them.

Not empty, then. But now that the thought of Guillermo tricking him, playing him for a fool, has gripped him he cannot shake it so easily. Perhaps Guillermo had meant to join him, but has now thought better of it. As he saw Laszlo and Nadja off to the Old World, did he imagine Nandor standing here awkwardly? Did the image fill his Guillermo with distaste? Or perhaps he had gotten a better offer. Nadja whispering in his ear. Come with me, little slayer, and I will turn you immediately. No need to wait for that big, stupid man.

With a growl he begins shoving everything back into the suitcase. The laptop cracks as he grips it and splinters of metal and glass cut his palm. He piles the clothing haphazardly on top, all of it unfolded and bulky, and as he reaches for the bottom of the pile his hand curls around a doll.

He lifts it up. Gazes into black button eyes. He is gripping it so tightly, his claws still extended, that he has left five little holes in the doll’s striped sweater. There is a smear of his blood on the doll's small hand, the only evidence of a wound that has already healed. The place where Nandor’s heart sits, dark and still as obsidian, clenches painfully. He looks at the doll of Guillermo and then down at the ground, where the doll of himself lies still on the concrete.

His heart jerks once more and he gasps, bringing his fist to his chest. He remembers, fleetingly, Guillermo trying to give him these dolls those weeks ago. Of the smile on his round, brown face. I made these for you, Master. Nandor holds the doll of Guillermo to his chest and gazes at this lonely mirror of himself. Here they are. Guillermo’s last gift to him. He wanted to make sure Nandor had them before he—before he left. For good.

His vision blurs. He zips up the suitcase without seeing it. Leaves it standing alone on the platform, a slash of red against gray. Shoves the dolls into his Jansport and throws it over his shoulder. He’s inside the train car somehow, and the ticket taker is moving away from the door. But Nandor is losing snatches of time to the dull roar in his head. Out the window the night flashes as the train rolls away from the sunrise. Staten Island is left behind.

Nandor is alone.

He is alone.

Nandor takes a deep, shuddering breath, fills his dead lungs with stale air. The train rocks around a curve in the track and the city lights fade to nothing, plunging him in darkness. He opens his Jansport and looks at the dolls lying in his ancestral soil. They are already covered by a fine layer of soil, dusty and misused, one of them bloodied. He bares his teeth at himself. He is so clumsy. So vile. No wonder Guillermo has left, as do all the others. Nandor cannot even do this right.

Nandor lifts the doll of Guillermo from the bag and brushes him off. He leaves himself in the dirt, and the rocking of the train car vibrates the doll, slowly burying it. Fitting, he thinks. He closes the bag and holds the doll of Guillermo tight to his chest. Curls his bulky body over the doll. Rolls over to face the interior of the train, unwilling to witness the world pass by him outside.

There is still enough of his ancestral soil clinging to the doll of Guillermo that he is comforted by the holding of him. Still enough that Guillermo feels like home. He places a hand on the empty seat next to him and closes his eyes.

Nandor is alone.

[between-two-fandoms]

If anyone's looking for Tales of Arcadia fanfic here's the link to my series on Ao3! I definently write more angst than anything else, but there's some fluff and soft stuff in there too.

My ask box is always open! Feel free to send me a prompt whenever you get a plot bunny. Double check my bio for the rules. There are a few things I don't write.

I'm currently admist a multi-chapter fic features Tired!Dad Jim, Tired!Mom Claire and their son Douxie Jr. who is just, if not more, chaotic as the og Douxie.

[redinkofshame]

Kirkwall Noir

I tried to combine traditional Noir with Hard in Hightown to bring us Varric Tethras, Private Eye. These thirteen codex-sized chapters are filled with drugs, sex, violence, and old timey slang. (Also, Varigold!) I’ll be posting one a day on tumblr, and then I’ll post them all at once on AO3. 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Chapter Two

Dulci de Launcet didn’t give me much to go on, so I decided to see what Kirkwall’s Finest knew about the death of Guillerme. Luckily, her route hadn’t changed.

I caught her patrolling an alley up in Hightown where the rich built their mansions tall enough to see the poor squabbling for scraps down in Lowtown. Those who needed security the least always seemed to have the most.

Aveline was a broad, no-nonsense bird with firey red hair and an attitude to match. She scowled when she caught sight of me. “You realize you can just leave a message for me with the station, Mr. Tethras.”

“And miss out on that beautiful mug of yours, Officer Valen?” She scowled harder, and continued walking. I fell in step beside her. “Come on… I’ve got a reputation in this town. I can’t be seen sharing a bottle with no cop.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a reputation all right. Boys down in the barracks have odds on you.”

“Yeah? How long? We could get in on that…”

“What do you need, Tethras?”

“Right. I’m looking for info on the de Launcet case.”

“Well that’s an easy fix: we don’t have any.”

I stopped. “Nothing?”

She stopped and sighed. “Not that I would necessarily tell you,” she said, eyes scanning the alley, “But no. He was shot at home, in his study. No weapon, no witness, just dead.”

“Any chance he did himself in?” She shook her head. “What did the family say?”

“Not much. They found him, called us. Their grief seems real enough, and no sign of tampering with… Is that Captain Jeven?

I looked up just in time to see the man, who must’ve just come around the corner, spot Aveline.

She snapped to attention with a salute. “Captain.”

He was scruffy, red-nosed, and in need of a haircut. And he looked as angry enough to chew bullets. “What do you think you’re doing here, Officer?”

She blinked in surprise. “I’m… I’m just on my patrol, sir. Standard duty.”

He turned his glare on me pointedly. “Unless you’re arresting this sward, I suggest you stop clucking and get back to work.”

“Yessir,” Aveline replied to his back as he stormed off. We shared a look as if to say, ‘what was that about?’ before she walked off as well.

I felt guilty for getting her pinched, but mostly I felt irritated with the captain. These streets were used for back entrances only — for servants hard at work and for the rich who didn’t want to be seen, which meant he wasn’t angry Aveline was around, he was just angry he got caught.

Doing what? Nothing good. Accepting a bribe? Meeting a married mistress? Didn’t matter much. I’d gotten next to nothing from Aveline, and I doubted she’d be very forthcoming after this.

Well, since I was nearby I figured it was only reasonable to see if I could find anything that KPD hadn’t. Time to break into Mr. de Launcet’s home office.

[pendesvoyage]

Movies to Look Forward to in March!

March is going to be a good month for movies. Not only is the first female-led feature film from Marvel finally here, but March offers laughs, scares, and edge-of-your-seat action. Here are the movies I’m looking forward to this month.

The Hole in the Ground

Sarah and young son Chris move to the fringes of a backwood rural town, but a terrifying encounter with a neighbor uncovers disturbing changes in her little boy. Is this connected to an ominous sinkhole buried deep in the forest that borders their home?

Release Date: March 1st

Genre: Horror

Starring: Seána Kerslake, James Quinn Markey, Simone Kirby 

Director: Lee Cronin

Apollo 11

A look at the Apollo 11 mission to land on the moon led by commander Neil Armstrong and pilot Buzz Aldrin. 

Release Date: March 1st

Genre: Documentary

Stars:  Buzz Aldrin, Neil Armstrong, Michael Collins

Director: Todd Douglas Miller

Greta

A young woman befriends a lonely widow who's harboring a dark and deadly agenda towards her.

Release Date: March 1st

Genre: Drama/Horror

Stars: Isabelle Huppert, Chloë Grace Moretz, Maika Monroe

Director: Neil Jordan

The Wedding Guest

A story centered on a mysterious British Muslim man on his journey across Pakistan and India to kidnap a guest from a wedding. 

Release Date: March 1st

Genre: Thriller

Stars:  Dev Patel, Radhika Apte, Jim Sarbh

Director: Michael Winterbottom

Climax

French dancers gather in a remote, empty school building to rehearse on a wintry night. The all-night celebration morphs into a hallucinatory nightmare when they learn their sangria is laced with LSD.

Release Date: March 1st

Genre: Thriller

Stars: Sofia Boutella, Romain Guillermic, Souheila Yacoub 

Director: Gaspar Noé

Captain Marvel

Carol Danvers becomes one of the universe's most powerful heroes when Earth is caught in the middle of a galactic war between two alien races.

Release Date: March 8th

Genre: Action/Adventure

Stars: Brie Larson, Gemma Chan, Ben Mendelsohn 

Director: Anna Boden, Ryan Fleck

Gloria Bell

A free-spirited woman in her 50s seeks out love at L.A. dance clubs.

Release Date: March 8th

Genre: Drama/Romance

Stars: Julianne Moore, Sean Astin, Michael Cera

Director: Sebastián Lelio

Triple Frontier

Five former Special Forces operatives reunite to plan a heist in a sparsely populated multi-border zone of South America.

Release Date: March 13th

Genre: Action/Adventure

Stars: Ben Affleck, Charlie Hunnam, Adria Arjona 

Director: J.C. Chandor

Captive State

Set in a Chicago neighborhood nearly a decade after an occupation by an extra-terrestrial force, Captive State explores the lives on both sides of the conflict - the collaborators and dissidents.

Release Date: March 15th

Genre: Sci-Fi/Thriller

Stars: Machine Gun Kelly, Vera Farmiga, John Goodman

Director: Rupert Wyatt

Five Feet Apart

A pair of teenagers with life-threatening illnesses meet in a hospital and fall in love.

Release Date: March 15th

Genre: Drama/Romance

Stars:  Haley Lu Richardson, Cole Sprouse, Claire Forlani

Director: Justin Baldoni

Wonder Park

Wonder Park tells the story of a magnificent amusement park where the imagination of a wildly creative girl named June comes alive.

Release Date: March 15th

Genre: Family/Animation

Stars: Brianna Denski, Jennifer Garner, Ken Hudson Campbell 

Director: David Feiss

The Aftermath

Post World War II, a British colonel and his wife are assigned to live in Hamburg during the post-war reconstruction, but tensions arise with the German who previously owned the house.

Release Date: March 15th

Genre: Drama/War

Stars: Alexander Skarsgård, Keira Knightley, Jason Clarke 

Director: James Kent

Superpower Dogs

Join an immersive IMAX adventure to experience the life-saving superpowers and extraordinary bravery of some of the world's most amazing dogs. (Narrated by my- not mine, I don’t own him- man, Chris Evans.)

Release Date: March 15th

Genre: Documentary

Stars: Chris Evans, Dayna Hilton, Matt Abrams 

Director: Daniel Ferguson

Hotel Mumbai

The true story of the Taj Hotel terrorist attack in Mumbai. Hotel staff risk their lives to keep everyone safe as people make unthinkable sacrifices to protect themselves and their families.

Release Date: March 22nd

Genre: Drama/Historical

Stars: Dev Patel, Armie Hammer, Nazanin Boniadi 

Director: Anthony Moras

Us

A family's serenity turns to chaos when a group of doppelgängers begin to terrorize them.

Release Date: March 22nd

Genre: Horror

Stars: Elisabeth Moss, Lupita Nyong'o, Anna Diop

Director: Jordan Peele

The Dirt

The story of how Mötley Crüe came to be one of the most notorious rock 'n roll groups in history.

Release Date: March 22nd

Genre: Biopic

Stars: Machine Gun Kelly, Iwan Rheon, Douglas Booth

Director: Jeff Tremaine

Maze

Inspired by the true events of the infamous 1983 prison breakout of 38 IRA prisoners from HMP, which was to become the biggest prison escape in Europe since World War II.

Release Date: March 22nd

Genre: Drama/Historical

Stars: Tom Vaughan-Lawlor, Barry Ward, Martin McCann 

Director: Stephen Burke

Dumbo

A young elephant, whose oversized ears enable him to fly, helps save a struggling circus, but when the circus plans a new venture, Dumbo and his friends discover dark secrets beneath its shiny veneer.

Release Date: March 29th

Genre: Family/Musical

Stars: Eva Green, Colin Farrell, Michael Keaton 

Director: Tim Burton

Unplanned

One of the youngest Planned Parenthood clinic directors, Abby Johnson used her passion to help women to become a spokesperson for PP, until the day she saw something that changed everything.

Released Date: March 29th

Genre: Drama

Stars: Ashley Bratcher, Brooks Ryan, Robia Scott

Director: Chuck Konzelman, Cary Solomon

The Highwaymen

A pair of police officers come out of retirement to catch the infamous outlaws Bonnie & Clyde.

Release Date: March 29th

Genre: Drama/Historical

Stars: Kevin Costner, Woody Harrelson, Kim Dickens

Director: John Lee Hancock

A Vigilante

A vigilante helps victims escape their domestic abusers.

Release Date: March 29th

Genre: Drama/Crime

Stars: Olivia Wilde, Morgan Spector, Betsy Aidem

Director: Sarah Daggar-Nickson

These are just the ones that caught my eye. March has a near endless offering of movie to pick one. There is something for everyone on this list so take some time and enjoy a flick! 

Lost in dictation,

Jess

[cookinguptales]

Now that I'm finished posting Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, I guess I can talk about my motivations a little bit.

Fic commentary placed under a cut because it's very long and contains spoilers for basically the entire fic.

I've spoken a few times about my Literal Obsession with the idea that Guillermo's bloodline will prevent him from turning how he should (see: the other fic I started writing on this subject well over a year ago) so I guess I won't go over that part again. That seems fairly self-explanatory, considering what the fic ended up being about.

I will say that I always want to play with this idea of like... if Guillermo gets bitten and doesn't turn into a vampire, then what was all this for? What is his life's work if it doesn't have the goal that he's been working towards all this time? What are his relationships with the vampires if they'll never be on equal footing? I love the idea of Guillermo becoming A Secret Third Thing, but I think he'd take a while to come around to the idea, y'know?

I wanted to take that idea to the worst possible conclusion with this fic, him becoming not just not the vampire he's always wanted to be, but the actual antithesis of it. He struggled so much with even being a slayer, y'know? I wanted to ramp that up with him becoming a creature that could only exist by feeding on the exact people he'd wanted to join. Like... Guillermo could always just not slay vampires, though he's still good at doing it accidentally. But in a situation like this, his only options are to drink vampire blood or starve to death.

And while I think Guillermo is overly sentimental and romantic and would like to think he'd sooner starve than decimate the local vampire population (including his friends), I think he's really got a stronger will to live than all that. So it was Nandor's romantic streak that convinced him, but... I mean. Guillermo wants to live. That man is a fuckin survivor, even though he makes terrible choices that put him in harm's way fairly often. Him saying yes was complicated within his own mind, but I think it was always a foregone conclusion.

And then on Nandor's side... tbh I wanted to play with this idea that I've had since watching s4 that Nandor is really starting to situate himself in the "wife" role, re: Guillermo. Once we saw Nandor interacting with all his wives (both male and female) I realized that he sees it more as a social role than a gender one. A wife is loyal, puts him first, takes care of him, encourages him, listens to him, provides for him, is physically intimate with him, etc. And we see him doing most of those things with Guillermo in s3/4, don't we?

We see him praising Guillermo and hyping him up the way he wanted his wives to do at the familiar fights. We see him caring for Guillermo when he's hurt after he falls through the floor. We see him immediately and enthusiastically throwing himself into a(n ineffective) servile position as soon as Guillermo pretends to be Colin's father. He very tenderly cares for a sleeping Guillermo at his own wedding. Nandor starts prioritizing Guillermo's physical well-being as well as his feelings, which is made abundantly (and... bizarrely) clear in the Freddie debacle.

(Look, I said that he's prioritizing Guillermo's feelings, not that he's fucking good at it.)

Moreover, he's really starting to be okay with putting himself in a more subservient position; after all these years, he actually seems to prefer that. He's stressed out in the Council and he doesn't actually like all the fighting and arguing and bureaucracy anymore. He really just seems like he wants to support and take care of Guillermo, but also won't allow himself to think too hard about what that means. Nor is he any good at it, not yet.

So... I think some of that was what I was aiming for in this fic. This strange need to be needed, and the way he feels like a failure (as a vampire, as a master, as a friend, as a wife, as a person in general) who is being rejected when Guillermo won't allow him to take care of him. Guillermo has needed to be aggressively self-reliant in the series thus far (something he even talks about in s4) and that's made him really guarded about accepting help from the others, especially Nandor. I mean... he's been burned before, and often.

But... I think Guillermo also fantasizes about the ability to truly be open with the others, especially Nandor, and that's kind of what vampirism has come to symbolize for him. Being a better, stronger, more powerful version of his current self. Becoming a version of himself that won't need to lie about who he is anymore -- because he'll finally be a version of himself that's enough for the others and for himself. They'll respect him, he'll respect himself, and he'll finally get the love and acceptance he's always wanted. He won't have to lie anymore, because he'll be confident in who he is. His reality will finally be better than the web of lies and half-truths he's constructed.

Like... he won't even have to lie to himself anymore. And won't that be lovely?

But then he finds out he can't be a vampire, will never be a vampire, and is in fact the direct opposite of a vampire. Vampires will hate him and reject him and fear him, and so of course, Guillermo hates, rejects, and fears himself. He's always built up this Perfect Vampiric Version of himself and has put his hopes in the love and acceptance he'll receive as that... so when he gets the opposite of that, that's the new vampiric version of himself he's struggling with.

And while Guillermo's dealing with all that loss of hope, Nandor's just becoming even more aggressive in his attempts to get through the shields Guillermo has constructed for himself. So as Guillermo's withdrawing even further, Nandor is trying even harder to get Guillermo let him in. They're both becoming frantic, in other words. lmao

It's funny... Guillermo's been creating all of these fantasies of being a person who can take while Nandor is slowly starting to fantasize about giving. Guillermo's never had power and Nandor is tired of having it. Guillermo's tired of being under Nandor (so to speak) and Nandor is equally tired of their power differential, but in the opposite direction. So they're both really struggling with the things they desire and how they've been granted but in this terrible, warped fashion. Guillermo is now strong enough to take anything he wants, and Nandor is now in a unique position to offer Guillermo what he needs. But there's this terrible danger associated with it, and there could be unimaginable consequences.

Guillermo... briefly and occasionally grapples with the consequences of his actions, you know? He has the capacity for guilt and self-loathing and loneliness, even if he typically refuses to let himself think about it. I think Derek in particular has always been a trigger for that. So by having him outright kill and eat him in the service of this new quest for power (sorry Derek, RIP, I felt really bad about it) I think that was a way to traumatize him so badly that he had trouble feeling anything but guilt and self-loathing and loneliness.

idk man I guess I just really wanted to traumatize them both in one fell swoop. lmao

I suppose... in the end, what I was going for here was the disruption of the roles they've made for themselves and a perversion of the fantasies they clearly have for themselves and each other. I wanted to write about taking vs giving and consuming vs being consumed and how being devoured can feel good, maybe, if it means that you finally feel worthy of being consumed. And maybe devouring can feel good if it's in a safe space where you know your appetite can't hurt the people you love.

It's an exchange, y'know? And one that can only be done with consent, if consent that Nandor uhhhhhh really had to push for. lmao

In the end, I wanted the emotional release of the fic to be not the realizations of love or the kiss or the sex but actually that moment just afterward when Guillermo finally consents to Nandor literally and metaphorically supporting him. It's that moment when he finally realizes that he doesn't have to carry all this anymore, all his hopes and dreams and fears and the trauma that he's been struggling to deal with himself. He doesn't have to keep hiding who and what he is because Nandor wanted all of him, even the parts that scared him.

I wanted it to be the crying that was the real emotional release for the reader, just like it was for the two of them. Guillermo finally opening up, Nandor finally being allowed to come in, and that tension between them finally breaking.

Did I succeed... idk. I mean, being honest with you, I'm still not entirely satisfied with what I wrote. I've been toying with writing this since Christmas-ish and I finally just kind of. Sat down and wrote it. I've been struggling with a lot of issues re: writing (partially due to physical health issues, partially due to personal stuff, probably) and... idk. I guess I'm just happy I managed to complete something, even if I'm not sure that it's up to my usual standard.

Maybe I'll come around to it. Sometimes I do. Sometimes you have to let the idealized perfect version of something in your head go a little fuzzy before you can appreciate the imperfect version of it that you actually managed to finish. But all of y'all never saw the version of it that was in my head, so hopefully you're happy with the only version of this particular fic that you'll ever see. lmao

tbh I could write a long post like this for every fic I've ever written, but I try not to get too bad about it. lmao. But this time I decided to indulge myself a little and write more about the ideas I wanted to toy with while writing. Maybe I'll write more about them later. idk.

At any rate, the next thing I post will probably be a somewhat similar nandermo fic. It's wrestling with a similar central question (what will Guillermo be if he can't be a vampire?) but it goes in a very different and deeply self-indulgent direction. Will you all like it? Hell if I know. But I'm going back to my love for academia, primary sources, extreme codependency, and fucking in the stacks.

(No, My University, I never actually fucked in the stacks. But don't test me.)

I wrote the first 10-15k of it before s4 started, and I put it aside when it became immediately clear that things had gone in a very different direction, but... It still has a lot of ideas I like, and I think I'm ready to go back to it and write a What If? situation that should be a lot of fun.

as always, thanks for indulging me. haha

[higherfeed]

2019 New York SUP Open Recap

The 2019 New York SUP Open was another great event on the APP World Tour, with the world’s best athletes getting the chance to show off their skills with incredible backdrops. From the Liberty Race around the Statue of Liberty, to the events in Long Beach, everyone in NYC had the chance to see the great skills of these stars on the water. The Minimally Informed Guide to the 2019 New York SUP Open ]] As the APP World Tour heads to Red Bull Heavy Water, the 5th stop of the 2019 APP World Tour—and Barbados for the third surfing stop on the schedule this year—here’s a look back at how the 2019 New York SUP Open went down, and some of the top highlights from the event and competitions. Major Competitors Take the Liberty Race and New York SUP Open Overall With an incredible backdrop and exciting competition all around, APP World Tour athletes Arthur Arutkin and April Zilg took victory in the Liberty Race, the distance race that takes competitors around the iconic Statue of Liberty in the Hudson. Along with the combined performances in the Sprints competition, it gave Arutkin and Zilg the overall victory at the New York SUP Open. The win for Arutkin at the event pushed him to the top of the APP World Tour rankings heading out of the New York SUP Open.

]] The Liberty Race Gets Exciting at the New York SUP Open The Liberty Race is the final race held for the New York SUP Open, pushing athletes to go around the Statue of Liberty with the Manhattan skyline as the backdrop. The 13.5km course is a tough one for competitors, but with nice weather and a beautiful backdrop, it makes for an exciting race every year. Arutkin took the Liberty Race on the men’s side for the second straight year, while Zilg won the race for the first time–and her first-ever win of an APP World Tour event. The Men’s side of the Liberty Race was a tight competition, with Australia’s Michael Booth giving Arutkin all he could to try and dethrone the 2018 winner. But Arutkin showed off his top conditioning and stamina, as he was able to challenge Booth throughout the race and then pulled ahead to get the win. Booth finished second in the race and fourth overall in the New York SUP Open, leaving him in second overall in the rankings leaving this event. ]] On the women’s side of the race, Fiona Wylde challenged Zilg in the Liberty Race, but Zilg was too good on this day and was able to take the win. The lead changed back and forth as the race went on, but by the end, Zilg was able to finish 21 seconds ahead of Wylde for the victory. Wylde finished third overall in the event and finished the event at number three in the rankings, while Zilg’s performance pushed her closer to the top spot, finishing second in the rankings behind Seychelle Webster, the number one-ranked athlete on the women’s side. Webster won the Sprints competition and finished second overall in the event behind Zilg.

New York SUP Open / John Carter / APP World Tour Best of the Rest – Results and Strong Performances French athlete Martin Vitry gave a solid overall performance at the event, finishing third in the Liberty Race and second in the Surf Sprints event held in Long Beach. That performance pushed him up the rankings, landing him in fifth place overall. Along with Vitry, athlete Georges Cronstadt also gave a solid performance, finishing in fifth in the Liberty Race. The Top 5 Distance Race Finishers were as follows: ]] Arthur Arutkin (FR) Michael Booth (AUS) Martin Vitry (FR) Connor Baxter (HI) Georges Cronstadt (PYF)

New York SUP Open / John Carter / APP World Tour Women’s APP World Tour athlete Annie Reickert finished second in the Surf Sprint Racing event and sixth place in the distance race, which put her in fourth overall for the New York SUP Open. She’s now ranked seventh in the APP World Tour rankings coming out of the event. 2018 World Champion Shae Foudy came back from an injury and still gave a very solid performance, finishing seventh overall in the New York SUP Open event. Another athlete who had a solid performance was Yuka Sato, who finished fifth in the event and is now in fourth overall in the APP World Tour rankings. Here are the Top 5 finishers from the distance race: April Zilg (US) Fiona Wylde (US) Laura Quetglas (ESP) Seychelle Webster (US) Yuka Sato (JP) ]] NY SUP Open Pro Sprint Competition Recap The Sprint events are always one of the most exciting ones at the NY SUP Open, and 2019 was no different. The event in Long Beach saw a number of athletes push to try and win, leaving Denmark’s Casper Steinfath and Florida’s Seychelle Webster as the top finishers at the event. Steinfath was pushed by Arthur Arutkin and Connor Baxter in the event, and after the first round, it was Steinfath leading Arutkin and Martin Vitry. Steinfath made it through his quarterfinals round against over Guillerme Dos Reis and Noic Garioid. On the other side, it was Arutkin who finished over Martin Vitry, Christian Anderson and Zane Schweitzer to advance to the finals. In the fourth and final Sprint Race of the day, Steinfath was able to win over Vitry, Arutkin and Baxter to take the win. The fastest heat score for the day was accomplished by Steinfath in the semis.

New York SUP Open / John Carter / APP World Tour The Men’s Top 5 shook out like this: 1st Place: Casper Steinfath 2nd Place: Martin Vitry 3rd Place: Arthur Arutkin 4th Place: Connor Baxter 5th Place: Guilherme Dos Reis ]] On the women’s side, Webster took the top spot in the Sprints, while Shae Foudy put together the fastest heat time. Zilg showed off her skills by finishing in the top spot, and she performed very well throughout the event, including by dominating Yuka Sato, Caroline Kuntzel and Giannisa Vecco in Round 2, which helped propel her through the next rounds. The final heat was a competition between Seychelle Webster, Annie Reickert, April Zilg and Shae Foudy, and Webster was able to finish on top for the win. The Women’s Top 5 shook out like this: 1st Place: Seychelle Webster 2nd Place: Annie Reickert 3rd Place: April Zilg 4th Place: Shae Foudy 5th Place: Fiona Wylde APP World Tour Surfing in Long Beach Recap At this competition, Luiz Diniz and Izzi Gomez took the wins with strong performances. The victory wast first ever APP World Tour Event Win for Diniz, and put himself at number two ranked in the world. IT also put him in position for the overall title this season. Diniz had to go through a number of top athletes, including Zane Schweitzer, Daniel Hughes, and Poenaiki Raioha. ]]

New York SUP Open / John Carter / APP World Tour On the women’s side, Gomez gave a strong performance and beat Aline Adisaka in the quarterfinals, and then Vania Torres in the semifinals to propel her info the finals. Gomez faced off against Yuuka Horikoshi and was able to hold her off to get the victory here. Check out more on the New York SUP Open and the APP World Tour here. The Current Rankings Here’s a look at the rankings on the The APP World Tour: Men’s Race Overall ]] Michael Booth, Australia Arthur Arutkin, France Casper Steinfath, Denmark Martin Vitry, France Noic Garioud, New Caledonia Connor Baxter, Hawaii Itzel Delgado, Peru Daniel Hasulyo, Hungary Titouan Puyo, New Caledonia Lincoln Dews, Australia

New York SUP Open / John Carter / APP World Tour Women’s Race Overall Seychelle Webster, USA April Zilg, USA Fiona Wylde, USA Annie Reickert, Hawaii Yuka Sato, Japan Lina Augaitis, Canada Candice Appleby, USA Stephanie Shiedeler, USA Angela Fernandes, PT Jade Howson, USA The post 2019 New York SUP Open Recap appeared first on Men's Journal. Read the full article

[driftward]

Title: A Knight's Duty - Chapter 13 Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Ement Vauban, Guillerme Rating: Teen Summary: A discussion of address Notes: None

"Your training is coming along well. I look forward to one day calling you as one of our own, as ser Vauban," said Guillerme.

Zoissette spoke up. "Shouldn't he be ser Ement?" she asked.

"Guillerme here prefers the older style of address," Ement said.

"Indeed I do. Indeed, I do," said Guillerme, crossing his arms. He got that distant look in his eyes he often did when he was talking about days long past, and Ement decided to take a moment to settle in, leaning against the wall. "I suppose it is well that many houses have done so well as to be able to spare multiple sons and daughters to the work of knighthood. That it's just easier to refer to them by their first names. And I understand the desire to mark them as individuals, to say, look, this one, this person, it is them who has the blessing of the Archbishop. But the old way of address... it had its charm, its purpose, you must understand. It said the opposite. It told us that this person was someone who swore fealty to their family. The first step in many of a path to higher devotion, higher calling. For by this, a knight would show they serve their family. And their family, well, they served the Holy See, and the Holy See served all of Ishgard. At least once upon a time, anyroad-"

"Guillerme!" said Ement, alarmed.

"Forget that last. Anyroad, all the way up,  you see, until the knight serves Halone herself. And to serve Halone is the highest purpose of a knight, to serve Her is to serve the very star itself, do you see?"

Ement looked over to see his sister slowly nodding. "So you prefer to call a knight by their family name. Ser Vauban, of Ishgard, of Halone... of the star," she said.

"Just so," said Guillerme.

"Mother prefers that also, and I prefer not getting into arguments with mother, so it's what our family will use," said Ement, pushing off the wall. "But I'm no ser, Vauban or otherwise, just yet. I still need to go through squirehood."

"And to get that far, you still need to finish the preliminaries," said Guillerme. "But I have high hopes. High hopes indeed. Not much longer now, son. Don't disappoint."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Mother would never let me hear the end of it," said Ement.

[tuannyriver]

I’ve just returned from the Conference on the History of Women Religious (CHWR) at Saint Mary’s College just across the road from University of Notre Dame. Here are some highlights from each of the four days. 

DAY 1. There were three panels during the first session, and I attended the panel on the history of nuns and racial justice. It included a sing-song story about the late Sr. Thea Bowman at the USCCB; a moving personal account by a Sister of St. Joseph of Rochester NY (left photo) on living in Selma during 1959-1968; and an account on Sr. Margaret Ellen Traxler and others in the NCCIJ. To my delight, the last presentation mentioned fifteen Franciscan nuns from Assisi Heights, where I worked during my senior year in high school, who participated in the Cabrini Project in Chicago.

Early Americanist Ann Little (Colorado State) gave the evening’s keynote, mostly on her recent biography of Esther Wheelwright. She was New England-born; captured by the Wabanaki Indians at 7 and became Catholic among them; and joined the Ursulines in Canada and eventually became mother superior. The story is fascinating, and I’d like to read the book sometimes in the next year.A theme that caught my eyes has to do with the nun’s habit(s). Prof. Little pointed out a comparison between the Ursuline habit and the Wabanaki female hood regarding weather, among other things. Another reason for the thickness of the Ursuline habit was restriction of hearing and seeing for the purpose of interior prayer and introspection. Another presenter mentioned that Martin Luther King wrote to Catholic bishops and religious orders to invite priests and nuns to march in Selma and elsewhere. He really wanted them to wear the collars and religious habits. Until this conference, I hadn’t seen photos of civil rights marches from this period showing nuns. One photo showed a nun in full habit participating in the Meredith March Against Fear in June 1966. Imagine putting on something like that to walk outdoors under the high heat and humidity of a Mississippian summer.

DAY 2. I went to all four sessions, starting with a morning panel on three archives in NYC area. The archives of the Sisters of Charity of New York might draw much interest from researchers because of its holdings on St. Vincent’s Hospital, but the Maryknoll Mission Archives is probably most applicable to my research. I also cross my fingers that there are relevant materials in the many deposits to the Archives of the Archdiocese of New York, which, incidentally, illustrates the old joke that even the Holy Spirit doesn’t know how many orders of Catholic nuns there are in the world. Until its archivist’s presentation, for example, I hadn’t heard of the Sisters of Divine Compassion or the Sisters of Our Lady of Christian Charity. I did know about the Hawthorne Dominicans, having first seen their ads in Catholic publications during the early 1990s. I didn’t know, however, that their founder was the daughter of Nathaniel Hawthorne. Similar to UMV earlier this month, I stayed in a student dorm and, from suite mate Farrell O’Gorman, an English faculty at Belmont Abbey College, learned quite a few things about Mother Mary Alphonsa, as Rose Hawthorne was eventually known, from my Unsurprisingly, the New Yorkers at the conference knew plenty about her and her branch of Dominicans.

My NYC-accented morning was balanced out by a panel on the Sisters and Daughters of Charity moving to the West during the nineteenth century: to St. Louis, California, Nevada, New Mexico, and Colorado. For the first time in my conference-going life, I heard two presentations consisted entirely of excerpts from letters, annals, memoirs, and diaries. (One presenter has been a Daughter of Charity since 1958 and gave her presentation from a wheelchair.) These presentations added up to a remarkable portrayal of endurance. The nuns’ travels to the American West might not be as melodramatic as Xuanzang’s journey to the west, but they sure were no picnic. They smelled, for example, the awful air of coal when passing through West Virginia, and they saw horrifying scenes of chained slaves in Missouri. There were sicknesses and even a few deaths along the way. The challenges continued well after they arrived to Santa Fe or San Francisco. But the difficulties also revealed opportunities. As someone in the audience put it during the Q&A, in the East Coast, Catholic nuns built institutions–orphanages, hospitals, schools–parallel to the already existing structure. In the West, however, they built the structure itself.

The last panel that I attended also considered antebellum nuns, albeit with a French rather than New York accent. Jacqueline Willy Romero, whose article was recently published in the same issue of American Catholic Studies as mine, told a fascinating story of conflict between a French-born Sulpician bishop of Bardstown, Kentucky, and a nun of the Sisters of Charity, which he’d founded and stood as their superior general. Gabrielle Guillerm, a doctoral student of Robert Orsi at Northwestern, talked about different types of memory about French missionary nuns in nineteenth-century America. Even though I’d known that France led all Europeans in missionary endeavors, I was still mildly stunned to learn that in 1878, three-quarters of Catholic missionaries, men and women, were French. To paraphrase Kathy Cummings during her commentary, the French roots of American Catholicism were deep and long. It is most appropriate, then, that the site of this conference was founded by French nuns.

DAY 3. I missed the afternoon sessions due to being online for a committee meeting in Malibu. And in the morning I gave my presentation on Vietnamese women religious. It was supposed to be about their exile to the U.S. in 1975, but I ended up speaking more about their lives in colonial Indochina and in South Vietnam.  There was more about NYC at my panel, this time on the Dominican Sisters, from native son Jim Carroll who spoke with a distinct New York accent. The other panelists, a husband-and-wife team, spoke about the four American women missionaries that were murdered in El Salvador. To this familiar story, I learned quite a bit about their background from this presentation as well as the banquet’s plenary talk by Eileen Markey (Lehman College), author of a book about Sr. Maura Clarke, one of the missionaries (top). Similar to Day 1, the plenary was interrupted by tornado siren that forced all attendants to the basement. The interruption was fortunately much shorter this time, and there was also a nice display wing that kept some of us helpfully distracted (bottom).

The most fascinating presentations came from the first session. There were a paper on indigenous Mexican nuns by an American doctoral student at Rutgers and another on discalced Carmelites in the Netherland by an Irish-Dutch historian. The second paper, in particular, explained an ideology of self-renunciation, reparation, and meritorious and “sacrificial suffering” in Carmelite cloistered and contemplative life. The Q&A was also notable for a question and answer about Edith Stein. The papers are parts of larger works-in-progress, both of which I look forward to read when they are completed.

DAY 4. The last day ended with lunch, so there were only two sessions in the morning, each with two panels. I went to the back-to-back panels on CARA’s ongoing research about (a) culture and ethnicity on religious life in recent decades; and (b) international religious institutes in the U.S. since 1965. There were many charts and graphs shown by the presenters, plus a lot of feedback from panelists and audience on questions and approaches regarding these subjects. There was also quite a bit about Vietnamese American Catholics due mostly to the effort of Sr. Thu Do, a member of the Lovers of the Holy Cross in Hanoi. She’s been a principal investigator of these projects, and I met her briefly last year when she visited my parish during a tour of surveys. I chatted with her several times at this conference and I look forward to read the final findings and analyses.

In the afternoon, I went to the archives at Notre Dame and learned that the holdings are still kept on the sixth floor but the research room is now on the first floor. I was on the sixth floor only once when living in South Bend, and it shall remain so. The new place is spacious with many tables for researchers in the large room. I was taken to the small room with only four tables. There were already three people busy at work, and two of them were CHWR attendants like myself. I returned the next morning and found a third conference-goer, one of the Dominican Sisters, also examining some materials. Life of the mind.

Besides meeting a number of archivists and academics for the first time, the conference afforded a chance to see several people I haven’t seen in years, including John McGreevy and Mary Henold. Headed by Tom Rzeznik, the programming committee did a fine job putting together the schedule. Kathy Cummings and the Cushwa Center ensured a smooth run of the conference on the face of occasionally inclement weather.  The campus of Saint Mary’s College is quite beautiful and, in contrast to the bustling of visitors and construction at Notre Dame, quite serene. 

  The 11th triennial conference on the history of women religious I've just returned from the Conference on the History of Women Religious (CHWR) at Saint Mary's College just across the road from University of Notre Dame.

[raquelcoutoantelo]

Drawing the perfect plan up and executing it in sin. Chapter 19

Chapter 19. The countess of Apolonia

The countess of Apolonia stared at those stains flying around over a green background seeking the meaning she had been promised and not finding it. She neither dramatized, it wasn't the first time and she didn't know enough about arts to tell the difference. She knew, that's for sure, about business; she had studied, as if they were share prices, the evolution of the painting's price. She wasn't interested in "Catharsis" in particular, she had set the equivalent to a Google alert in the arts and, if an art-work stood out, she bought it expecting to obtain a big profit in a short time.

The modern art was the most profitable in the short term but she didn't like it; she didn't understand it and this made her feel like buying frozen bread for baker's price. And worse made her feel the T-shirt the woman that sent her driver back to civilization after the party at marquis of Cebriáns' place was wearing. And she wrote down on her diary an appointment with her legal advisers to study the potential implications of that discovery. Of course reality was faster than her, back at the noble house she used as summer residence, found his son sat down on the stairs in front of the door, with a glass of cava in one hand and a piece of cake on the other, the tie's knot undone and the silk shirt out of the trousers.

- Welcome to my place, my dear mother! - Guillerme de Apolonia dropped in an odd tone.

The countess may not know much about art but she did know about clever dicks, of course she did. She knew, also, her son was angry because she had prioritize the marquis' party over his eighteenth anniversary, although she thought it was an exaggeration, after all "what kid would like to celebrate their eighteenths with their mother?". None, the answer is none; but Guillerme has a few arrears from other anniversaries that the cava encourage to charge that night.

- I can see you had a great time... Now go to sleep before you roll down the stairs and get hurt - the countess answered with indifference.

- My dear mother, I will go to my bed whenever I feel like because I am at my home - he ended with a sip of cava.

The countess, before being a countess, was Águeda García Sánchez. That was her and she was entitled to not more than a third of the fifth part of a cottage, three meadows and a vegetable garden. She didn't know much about art but she did about hunger and, in the same way time didn't bring her more knowledge about arts didn't detract about hunger. She recognized immediately in her son's words the eager for liquidizing the family heritage into a relaxing life next to a beach of peaceful waters and stressed melodies. She recognized it because she also had felt it and his son could be half count but he also was half her. And, even recognizing it, she didn't see it coming. She expected to keep on managing the family heritage until, some days, her death, some days his, depending on she feeling love or greed. She chose not to pay attention to a spoiled teenager's provocations and hoped the hangover sat him down on the timidness the following morning; anyway, she had just set an appointment with her legal advisers.

- It means a double inconvenience - a lawyer began - in one side, the T-shirt may have something to do with the painting, people may find out and it may have repercussions on the value of the painting; on the other side, you bought that painting with your son's money, you weren't allowed to, we told you at the time, if he asks for it you have to give it back immediately and, in your accounts, you don't have that kind of cash.

- We recommend - an economist interrupted - you sell the painting as soon as possible to avoid both inconveniences.

- Discretion is key - her personal adviser told her - you know it, if somebody sees your desperation the value...

She stopped him waving her hand, she as a business woman, she didn't need none of the recommendations, not even the two inconvenient pointing out, she already knew; she might come from the middle of nowhere, or being a beautiful face well married, but she wasn't a full, or had lost her memory, or her ability to negotiate.

- Legal implications! - she got serious - Can we sue the artist or the one that certified the painting as an art-work? How long can we put off my son's heritage handing over?

- Countess, suing the artist would take the lid off... - came out shyly out of the lawyer.

- In the event the value lowers before I can get rid of it, why am I going to sue them if I obtain profit? - the woman despaired.

The seven legal advisers looked at each other.

- I suppose so - her personal adviser said at last.

- You suppose? - the countess was heating up - You'd better think of it and give an exact answer to both questions before tomorrow or I will take more drastic measures.

Dismissals, she was talking about dismissals. But a beautiful girl, not stunning, but beautiful, from a village, doesn't marry a millionaire count waiting for him to pass by her door. No, she got it setting a goal and taking the needed steps to reach it and, once there, flirting with his best friend, of course.

- Look, Antonio - a countess from beyond demanded - don't bother to act as if you didn't knew.

She didn't need anything else, Antonio Chantalo burst into tears with the impact and confessed he already knew, that he was also a victim, that Tobías had gone crazy and that he lived in such a mess that, at any moment, could drop it all and left them stranded.

- Antonio, as the expert gallery owner you are, what is more valuable, the painting of a living artist or the painting of a death artist? - the countess finished the talking off.

[chestnutpost]

Inside ‘Climax,’ An Acid Trip That Goes From Dance Party To Bloody Nightmare

This post was originally published on this site

Some two dozen dancers gather at a remote schoolhouse in France. Outside, snowfall casts an apocalyptic chill; inside, sweat is dripping and bodies are convulsing to a throbbing disco surge. “God is with us,” the troupe’s choreographer howls as they engage in an orgy of the senses. It’s their last rehearsal before touring the United States and beyond — if, that is, they survive the night. The sangria they down after finishing the run-through is spiked with LSD, much to everyone’s shock, and what began as a free-spirited celebration ends with blood, blame, battery, incest and other hallucinatory hazards.

So it goes in “Climax,” the 95-minute horror bacchanalia that exists in the hallowed space between must-see and can’t-watch. That’s familiar territory for director Gaspar Noé (“Irréversible,” “Enter the Void”), an extremist whose work flirts with nihilism. Here, he serves up maybe 40 minutes of ecstasy, duping us into thinking he’s made something joyful before swerving to a fevered agony that’s as exhilarating as it is disturbing. This is not a film for everyone, and that’s precisely why it’s incredible. When I saw it for a third time in Brooklyn last week, the woman sitting next to me was holding her head and moaning during the final half hour.

“It’s like you start with a roller coaster going up, up, up, and suddenly the roller coaster starts going down,” Noé said by phone last week. “Any spectator that sees the movie knows it’s just an imitation of life.”

However bleak, he’s not wrong. As the opening credits imply, Noé based “Climax” on a news story from the ’90s in which French dancers found their drinks laced with acid. He wouldn’t tell me whether things ended as brutally for them as they do for his characters, but there’s a certain catharsis in seeing such highs ― pun intended ― butt up against such diabolical lows.

A24 Sofia Boutella in “Climax.”

What’s most impressive about “Climax” is how it was made. In December 2017, Noé attended a voguing ball where he was inspired to pursue a project about dancers of varying races, nationalities and sexual identities who come together with a carnal, catty joie de vivre. In lieu of a proper script, he wrote a short treatment that introduced the characters and outlined the story in only the broadest strokes. Everything else was fleshed out during the shoot, which spanned a quick 15 days, with Noé operating the camera himself. By the following May, “Climax” was already premiering at the Cannes Film Festival. 

Initially, Noé envisioned the movie as two halves: before the acid and after the acid ― both shot to look like continuous 40-minute takes, with the credits sandwiched in the middle. That’s what Sofia Boutella signed on for when Noé sent her an Instagram message asking if she’d play the choreographer, Selva, who doubles as the de facto protagonist.

Casting Boutella, who toured with Madonna before starring in “The Mummy” and “Atomic Bonde,” changed the game. Noé wasn’t planning to hire an actual choreographer to put together the vibrant dance number that opens “Climax,” but Boutella insisted he’d need a professional to wrangle 20-some performers. She recommended Nina McNeely, who has worked with Christina Aguilera, Rihanna and Banks. By then, everything was moving quickly: After deciding on the song ― Cerrone’s “Supernature” ― McNeely had only one day to prep and two days to rehearse the complex ensemble, whose free-flowing buffet of styles create what she calls “structured improvisation.” 

Foc Kan via Getty Images Gaspar Noé and Boutella at the Cannes Film Festival in May 2018.

On the next day, Noé brought her a few more dancers to add in and shot the scene as one roving take, the camera floating around and drifting overhead: Busby Berkeley on shrooms. There are voguers and krumpers and waackers and duck-walkers and electro hoofers and Shiva arms and catwalking, all bobbing around one other in a hodgepodge of ’90s euphoria. McNeely took inspiration from “A Chorus Line,” “Sweet Charity” (and all things Bob Fosse), Pina Bausch and Federico Fellini. It’s enough to make you assume the rest of “Climax” will be festive too.

“They are very charismatic, very sexy, very young, and especially their dancing skills and the language they invent with their bodies is so incredible that as a spectator you are envious of them,” Noé said. “You are curious about being part of that group because they kind of celebrate life in a conscious way. I could have done a whole movie like that, but I don’t think that happy endings make happy spectators.”

So Noé and company turned the back half of “Climax” into a nightmare. The after-party starts off pleasantly enough, with petty jealousies and horny desires undergirding the dancers’ boozy interactions. Noé beaks up the two halves with mini-conversations about marriage, sex, cocaine and other indiscretions, all shot in close-up and spliced together in rapid succession with music throbbing in the background. But when the LSD kicks in, the pulse shifts to a minor key and Selva becomes a tour guide for the frenzy. The camera follows her through a neon-green hallway, in and out of rooms where people fight or hook up or freak out. Eventually, she wanders back to the cavernous rehearsal den, where a mother tends to her preschooler, a pregnant woman wields a knife, a suspected traitor gets tossed into the snowstorm, and others become hypnotized by their own movements. 

McNeely was key during that long sequence, too. She would follow Noé and Boutella, hollering “obscenities” (read: stage directions). “I’d be like, ‘Look at the curtain! Throw your body on the floor! Kick the wall screaming,’” McNeely explained. “Sofia only did some of the things I said, so it’s really funny because I just seem like a fucking insane person screaming random things.”

A24 Romain Guillermic and Sofia Boutella in “Climax.”

It worked, though. We can see the experience mounting in Boutella’s eyes, and the way Noé’s camera swirls in relation to the proceedings makes us feel like ghosts following her into hell. That long green hallway? There might as well be a sign that reads “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” Or, as the Yeah Yeah Yeahs once sang, “Dance, dance, dance till you’re dead.”

Boutella based her performance in part off Andrzej Żuławski’s psychological thriller “Possession,” specifically a scene in which the main character, played by Isabelle Adjani, flails her body around during a manic meltdown in a subway station. Boutella had never taken hallucinogens, and in fact McNeely became a sort of acid muse for most of the actors on the set, dictating how the drug would affect each person differently.

Because she didn’t know what a physical experience LSD is, Boutella underestimated how demanding the film would be. She shot eight- to 10-minute chunks at a time, over and over, wailing and writhing in an abandoned boys’ school outside Paris. At one point, Selva thrusts her hands into her tights, only to peer down and think they’re stuck there permanently, after which she thrashes around like a dervish. It’s at once hilarious and unsettling, and a master class in acting.

“I knew at the moment he gave me the role of the choreographer, he wanted this choreographer [to be someone who] who never got the chance to dance the way she probably wanted to,” Boutella said. “She got to this point and she’s older than everybody, and she’s trying to unify and bring everybody together. I wanted to find some color because the moment I’m completely high I wanted the worst part of her to come out. It’s the true part of her that she never shows to anybody, some sort of darkness.”

By the time “Climax” ends, that darkness is king. There’s no going back, as if everyone involved has reached some sort of feral nadir. It recalls the gruesome opera that closed last year’s “Suspiria” remake, which is fitting because the original “Suspiria” is name-checked in “Climax.” Some of the final moments are filmed upside down in a haze of reds and blacks that offer an unintelligible violence, leaving audiences gasping for air.  

Of course, Noé thinks the whole descent is hilarious. At times, he’s right, as when Selva sees herself in a mirror and leaps back in horror. But there’s also a prevailing sense of despair, scored by the likes of Giorgio Moroder and Aphex Twin. Life, “Climax” seems to say, opens the door for infinite possibilities, only to reveal crushing terrors, sometimes in the same night. One can only hope that, when all is said and done, you’ll still be dancing. 

“It is, in many ways, a positive movie,” Noé said. “It’s dark in an educational way, but the more you think about it, the more you have a kind of vision for what human cruelty is. We are talking about some subjects that make you see the shadow; it shows cruelty out of the light of the sun. You are happy to see these horrors onscreen that you haven’t seen in real like, like when you have a nightmare. … It is helpful to see all those fears inside your mind while you’re sleeping or when you enter a movie theater. People still, at the end of the movie, keep their joy of the first part of the movie. Many people say, ‘Oh, this was a ride, but I enjoyed it.’”

“Climax” is now in theaters.

RELATED…

The post Inside ‘Climax,’ An Acid Trip That Goes From Dance Party To Bloody Nightmare appeared first on The Chestnut Post.

from The Chestnut Post https://thechestnutpost.com/news/inside-climax-an-acid-trip-that-goes-from-dance-party-to-bloody-nightmare/

[redinkofshame]

I tried to combine traditional Noir with Hard in Hightown to bring us Varric Tethras, Private Eye. These thirteen codex-sized chapters are filled with drugs, sex, violence, and old timey slang. (Also, Varigold!) I’ll be posting one a day on tumblr, and then I’ll post them all at once on  AO3. 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Chapter Three

According to my information, Guillerme de Launcet primarily worked from home. Maker knows why — he had at least half a dozen kids, and while some were full grown and living on their own, I could still see plenty running about the estate, all bare feet and sticky fingers. Grandkids, maybe.

I staked out the property for an hour or so, timing my entry though the victim’s office window so that no kids, adults, or servants would catch me. It wasn’t difficult; the damn thing wasn’t even locked. I climbed in, sighing in relief when I saw that the door was closed.

The room had a stillness I couldn’t name. I knew it had less than a week since the murder, that the police had recently combed the place, yet it felt unused. I could still see the half-cleaned bloodstains on the carpet.

I examined them for a moment, but I didn’t dwell on it. That wasn’t what would get the answers I needed.

I moved to Guillaume’s desk and skimmed over it. Telephone, family pictures, a rolodex that I flipped through, but nothing caught my eye. I began quietly opening drawers. I found office supplies and paperwork in the first couple — no surprises there. There was an accounting ledger, a big binder of sums. The dates were recent, the older stuff probably in the filing cabinets against the wall. I didn’t bother checking those. If Guillaume cheesed anything it would be in his desk.

There might be useful information in the ledger, but unfortunately I didn’t have time to go through it line-by-line. I ripped out the last few pages, opened my briefcase, and shoved them in. I kept looking.

I smiled when I discovered the last drawer was locked. I didn’t even bother looking for a key — I’d done my share of box jobs, but you didn’t need to be a can opener for something this easy. I popped the lock, and inside I found something interesting at last: a small, engraved, velvet-lined oak box, also locked, containing lyrium and all the paraphernalia for snorting it.

If the police had found it they hadn’t bothered bagging it, and I wasn’t going to either. Just knowing he was a user was enough for a lead.

I emptied the drawer smiled even bigger when I felt the telltale hairline seam at the bottom; a hidden compartment. Jackpot.

Moving quick but quiet I slid the cover off. I found a single folded letter inside. I scanned it quickly, and just like you might assume, it was a lead. A big one. Guess the coppers hadn’t figured that Guillaume was being blackmailed.

I started putting everything back after tossing the letter in my briefcase. It was from a woman. A pregnant woman, demanding payment for her silence. Just how far would this woman go to get what she wanted?

As I thought about it the door swung open. I froze, and locked eyes with an equally frozen kid, probably around 10. With what I hoped was a disarming smile I pressed a finger to my lips, closed my briefcase, and climbed out the open window. I didn’t look back to see if he was going to keep his silence.

I sprinted, thinking what a shame it was that the blackmail letter was unsigned. That would be too easy, I supposed. Still, I recognized the stationary it was on.

It was time to head to the Hanged Man.

[iamthebarefootone]

Apple Watch 4's screen will feel way less cramped, acco...

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A purported marketing image of the new Apple Watch Series 4.

9to5Mac

On Wednesday, Sept. 12, the world is expecting Apple to announce a new set of iPhones, and a new Apple Watch too boot. But you don't necessarily need to wait. Last Thursday, 9to5Mac brought us what could be our first look at that Apple Watch Series 4, complete with a notably larger display.

How much larger? On Wednesday, 9to5Mac's Guillerme Rambo doubled down on his scoop. He says the Apple Watch Series 4's resolution is 384x480 pixels, meaning way more visual real estate than the the 312x390-pixel resolution of the 42mm Apple Watch Series 3.

That would be a huge difference when we're talking about a screen this small. And to illustrate that difference, 9to5Mac took some screenshots in an Apple Watch simulator to show you just how much more text and graphics you might be able to see:

9to5Mac 9to5Mac

If true, it could change how long you'll need to spend staring at the watch to comfortably absorb the same amount of information.

You can find more comparisons at 9to5Mac.

Apple didn't immediately respond to a request for comment.

Here's our wish list of features for the Apple Watch 4. And here's everything we know about the new Apple Watch so far.

Now playing: Watch this: The iPhone XS leak has us scratching our heads (The 3:59,...

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