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lunatic-fandom-space · 3 years

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Okay, you know how I said I wanted to watch all these german minecraft series and then watch 3rd Life SMP? Yea, I actually dont have the attention span to watch a bunch of white bread boys fuck around in minecraft with little to no story, regardless of wether theyre american or european so Im just gonna write this post and them start watching 3rd Life SMP so yeah.

First, I kinda want to discuss what Im hoping for on like, a meta-level I guess. The only other minecraft RP Ive watched that seems similar to this is Dream SMP so expect lots of comparisons.

I like to split dsmp into three major parts: no story/non-rp, story/non-rp and story/rp.

The first part was literally just a live streamed vanilla minecraft let's play and it was boring as shit. It felt exactly like watching a bunch of dudes play minecraft and unless they acknowledged the people in their donations (who could uncomfortably pushy and even shippy at times) you did not at all get the impression they were even aware of the stream. And as much as I appreciate some level of authenticity in this type of content, I also expect to be entertained by it and this did not even meet my bare minimum standard of entertainment. Admittedly, my attention span is very low so that definitely has something to do with it, but still. I personally have never felt anything but boredom and occasionally intense discomfort while watching anything from this 'era' of dsmp.

The second part was the start of the first conflict, and thus the start of some semblance of a story. They were kind of 'roleplaying' already (both in the sense that they obviously have their personas for their content and in sense that they didnt actually have grievances with one another and were just playing it up for the sake of entertainment) but it was more on the fly, even less focused and less serious. However, it was already legues more fun to watch.

And then we had the third part, where, starting with Wilbur Soot joining and deciding to larp Hamilton, they started to plan things out more and have more complex and/or dramatic conflicts. Needless to say, this was/is the best part in my opinion and what made me see the appeal of dsmp.

What Im hoping for 3rd Life SMP is, that they skip atleast the first part. From what I can tell, it was created sometime after dsmp has been in that third part for a bit and it is a minecraft rp, so Im assuming the people behind it wanted to do something similar, just with the story aspect there on purpose and from the get-go, if you know what I mean. And by the way, I dont think thats wrong or even "copying" in the slightest. Dsmp very much seems like a case of "they did it first, not best" and if anything, I think it would be a shame if people didn't want to do their own spin on this basic concept.

What Im personally hoping for in terms of the 'style' of roleplay itself, I really hope that they dont seperate it as rigidly into lore and non-lore as they did in dsmp. Ideally, they would do it like Ranboo (Wilbur when he was playing Ghostbur to an extend too, but he didnt actually stream and have his own POV back then), where he's always kinda 'In-Character' even when there isnt really anything happening in the plot at that moment. Again, I just dont have the attention span for no story in series like this anymore, so I'd appreciate it on a personal level, but I also think that it could humanize the characters more and potentially add additional depth to them. Especially since it looks like 3rd Life is made by the Hermitcraft group and if the stuff Ive read about Hermitcraft (especially in comparison to dsmp) it wont thrive off intense conflicts and wars in quite the same way, so that could also be a way of making a calmer rp interesting.

And now, some actual plot predictions!

So, the way I found 3rd Life SMP was this really neat 'Pitiful Children' animatic by ZylisticArt. I didnt actually 'watch' it because when I look up animatics I just kinda stare at the screen, not processing anything because Im too busy imagining my own OC animatic to the song, but I did read the description and was mildly intrigued, and its the main reason I wanted to watch 3rd Life so Im going to properly watch it now and post my predictions for the plot below.

***

The description mentions something about the animatic being based on some kinda theory, but I only skimmed it in order to not get spoiled so idk what thats really about. Im mostly intrigued by the fact that the description mentions it being a hardcore SMP (with a twist!), that, combined with the name and the visuals of the animatkc lead me to a couple conclusions;

I dont really know how Hardcore mode works in multiplayer, but in singleplayer you just get permanently kicked out of your world when you die, so Im assuming it works like that on a server too, except on a server, Im pretty sure you have the option of being 'reinvited' onto a server by the admin(s) so you could theoretically have three lives while keeping it a hardcore project where you cant regenerate without potions or golden apples and all that. Again, idk if thats actually how hardcore works but I sure hope it is, because thats what Im basing pretty much all of my predictions on.

In the animatic there were like green people, yellow people and a red guy who was like, the antagonist I guess. I think the green guys still have all their lives, the yellow ones are down to two and the red lads are all down to their last one. Maybe theres gonna be a thing thats like, if you lose a life you lose a part of your soul and that makes you evil or something? Yknow, like the whole "character comes back wrong" thing, except its the conflict of the entire series. Pitiful Children is very much a 'Manipulating Others Into Doing Harmful Shit' kinda song, and I feel like that would be very in-line with a plotline like that, yknow?

Im not expecting there to be wars/conflicts on the scale of dsmp (no blown up countries here bois) but I am expecting to get ridiculously attached to a place that inevitably gets blown up/set on fire by an antagonist.

Speaking of antagonists, theyre definitely also doing the whole multiple POV thing, which means everyone is an antagonist in one way or another and Im a solutely watching every POV from every characters so that I know the full context and story of everything, so I can have the most correct opinions on them, which is both normal to want and possible to achieve.

Since these are the Hermitcraft guys Im expecting some beautiful builds that make me feel insanely untalented and the same thing with redstone shit.

Ghosts. If they havent added some kind of ghost mechanic/lore at the time Im writing this, they will add one in later, mark my words 3rd Life fandom, mark my words...

Thats pretty much it. This is all going under my mcyt tag too, and I dont think I'll be live blogging it, but it really depends on how interesting it is.

Also, if youre a 3rd Life fan who already watched all of it, the only thing youre allowed to respond to this with is a meme that is horribly incomprehensible to anyone who hasnt watched it.

Have a nice day!

#lunas mcyt shit #3rd life smp

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eviclair · 3 years

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I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of your actual thoughts(tm) on khr, so what’s your constructive review on the series as a whole? Like some positives and negatives w/ the writing, characters, etc. If u don’t feel like answering, feel free to ignore this LOL.

tl;dr because this is 800 words of nonsense. i think you should know i would not know a constructive review if it bit me in the ass.

my guy i have not done a full read of khr in maybe two years and i know that does not sound like a long time but i have the long-term memory of a fruit fly. please bear with me. luckily for both of us i liveblogged the last time i read so i at least have my own sparknotes jdflaksjddaf

first off! khr is a satire manga!!! i cannot stress this enough, i can and will fight you to the death about this!!! “oh but it gets serious later” it grows a PLOT, thats not the same thing. khr is stupid as hell and that is both on purpose and my favorite thing about it.

i fucking love shonen man!!! its all about FIGHTING and LOVING YOUR FRIENDS and HAVING EMOTIONS and. bro im a water sign. my mars is in gemini, there is nothing i can do about this, god made me and said “get that bitch some found family and also some incredible violence” and we all just have to live with that.

khr is so much all of those things that i did not realize they were being made fun of until very long after the fact so my current opinions are very much not the ones i started with jaldkhjdfhd but man. once i clued in i both loved it so much more and became 100% incapable of interacting with fandom in any meaningful way L M A O

i just. the main conceit is that theyve weaponized the deus ex machina eleventh-hour shonen power up. the “my dead family came back to life to kill me” trope is used three separate times. the big bad student body president is a delinquent. theres an entire subset of above magic god powers thatre just

the tyl bazooka was just ripping on the Timeskip Arc until the Timeskip Arc actually happened?? like fuuta’s special thing is that he can communicate with the Meta Planet to divine Character Rankings, i dont know what to tell you!!! the truth is out there!!!

like DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER that time tsuna experienced a villain’s flashback sequence FOR HIM because i fucking do, i think about it every day,

so in the sense of “please critique the writing”, i cant do that because im pretty sure 98% of all the tropey bullshit is by design. do i wish people like the kokuyo gang got more characterization outside of being ride-or-die villain sidekicks?? of course i do but thats my own damn fault for seeing cool side characters and losing all higher brain function. on the other hand, hibari being the person he is and having absolutely no backstory or motivation beyond “get out of my school” is really fucking funny and keeps me warm at night, so. win some, lose some.

(the 2% of the writing that isnt tropey bullshit that i CAN critique is whatever is happening with kyoko. Bad Female Cast is definitely a shonen trope but its a shitty one and i want it to die. within maybe four minutes of kyoko being introduced she tries to body a man and then thats just never spoken about again?? wheres that energy queen?!!! let kyoko say fuck!!!!)

((this applies to haru too in the sense that all she really does is make moon eyes at tsuna but the way in which she does so is honestly so fucking funny and unhinged that it comes back around to being great. like yeah yep yes ma’am thats 100% bonafide Girl Who Throws Skittles In A Puddle And Calls It Potion right there please may i have another))

If khr took itself even 4% more seriously it could be really deep and compelling and i think that frustrates a lot of people, but i think i like it better this way?? half the fun for me is reading in between the lines!! the subtext, however unintentional it may be!!

examples: yamamoto is one of my favorites just because theres SO FUCKING MUCH to unpack about him!! canon gives us a lot of information about him just by virtue of the fact that he’s a Main Character, but paradoxically he himself is never really the focus. he just Does Shit and you have to figure out why on your own and i LOVE DOING THAT.

i dont love mukuro because he’s a fleshed out and nuanced villain, i love him because he says shit like “i went to hell six times” and never expounds upon that or “i can definitely trust the information i got from this magic monocle called Demon Spade’s Super Evil Murder Eye or whatever the fuck” and then expresses surprise when daemon spade is an asshole. he goes and willfully fucks up the only job anyones ever given him (impersonate 80 year old leonardo lippi) because he Just Has to shapeshift into a young hot dude and hand deliver byakuran, the boss of the Flower Family, the Family that names all its members after Flowers, a bouquet that means “i am in disguise ;) cant catch me bitch ;)”

like WHAT THE FUCK!!

i dont know man. i just like puzzles and khr is a gift that keeps giving.

(sidenote that should’ve maybe just been the subject of the post but re:i cant shut the fuck up about anything ever, i love tsuna so much. so much. his personality!! his relationships!!! his growth!!! his growth!!!!! his growth!!!!!!! khr has its claws in me because i see tsuna do something cool or brave or even deeply stupid actually and my whole heart goes AAAAAAAAA bc thats him!!! thats my son!!!!! my baby boy whom ive raised since birth!!!!!! suit me up and call me a reborn kinnie, fuck!!!!!!!!!)

#asks #also the hibari-alaude-fon sameface being explained after the fact as 'they are all secretly related'#is the funniest shit #you cant change my mind #unrelated but my khr liveblog spanned like a whole fucking year and its peak comedy #what happened. to my energy.#evi.txt

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alinaastarkov · 4 years

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Motherhood - Arya, Daenerys, Brienne and Sansa

So this is in response to an ask I got and it ended up really long so I thought I would post separately. I’m not great at writing proper metas but this is my poor imitation of one at least, so here goes.

Motherhood and children are key parts of Arya, Brienne and Dany’s arcs. They all act as mothers to other characters in their stories and seem to have a natural maternal instinct that you normally don’t find in female characters who are gnc because men usually just can’t write strong women. Ususally female characters get the choice between children or having skills, but Brienne, Arya and Dany get both in their arcs. On the flip side, Sansa on the outside is a prime candidate for motherhood - she dreams of having children, is romantic, traditionally feminine, etc. But GRRM deconstructs these tropes by almost making her not very maternal at all.

Sansa outwardly conforms to patriarchal gender norms but she doesn’t take joy in or have the instincts of a mother. Her dreams were usually limited to marriage and not much beyond that. She’s growing out of her superficial desires, obviously, but she always thought about romance and being a lady, and having babies was a part of that because of the society she grows up in. She never wanted to actually care for children, she was just told that was an essential part of a “happy ending” and so she bought it. Her dreams about children were only ever about babies. She wants the fantasy, not the reality of raising kids. We can see with her behaviour with Sweetrobin - though it is improving - she really doesn’t have those motherly instincts and disdains the truths of having to care for someone younger.

It was more than Sansa could stand. "Robert, stop that." Instead he swung the doll again, and a foot of wall exploded. She grabbed for his hand but she caught the doll instead. There was a loud ripping sound as the thin cloth tore. Suddenly she had the doll's head, Robert had the legs and body, and the rag-and-sawdust stuffing was spilling in the snow. Lord Robert's mouth trembled. "You killlllllllled him," he wailed. Then he began to shake. It started with no more than a little shivering, but within a few short heartbeats he had collapsed across the castle, his limbs flailing about violently. White towers and snowy bridges shattered and fell on all sides. Sansa stood horrified, but Petyr Baelish seized her cousin's wrists and shouted for the maester. - Sansa VII, ASOS

Robert's lip quivered. "I was going to come sleep with you." I know you were. Sweetrobin had been accustomed to crawling in beside his mother, until she wed Lord Petyr. Since Lady Lysa's death he had taken to wandering the Eyrie in quest of other beds. The one he liked best was Sansa's . . . which was why she had asked Ser Lothor Brune to lock his door last night. She would not have minded if he only slept, but he was always trying to nuzzle at her breasts, and when he had his shaking spells he often wet the bed. - Sansa I, AFFC

Alayne understood all that well enough, but it meant that the burden of getting Sweetrobin safely down the mountain fell on her. "Give his lordship a cup of sweetmilk," she told the maester. "That will stop him from shaking on the journey down." "He had a cup not three days past," Colemon objected. "And wanted another last night, which you refused him." "It was too soon. My lady, you do not understand. As I've told the Lord Protector, a pinch of sweetsleep will prevent the shaking, but it does not leave the flesh, and in time . . ." "Time will not matter if his lordship has a shaking fit and falls off the mountain. If my father were here, I know he would tell you to keep Lord Robert calm at all costs." "I try, my lady, yet his fits grow ever more violent, and his blood is so thin I dare not leech him any more. Sweetsleep . . . you are certain he was not bleeding from the nose?" "He was sniffling," Alayne admitted, "but I saw no blood." "I must speak to the Lord Protector. This feast . . . is that wise, I wonder, after the strain of the descent?" [...] "Just give him a cup of the sweetmilk before we go, and another at the feast, and there should be no trouble." "Very well." They paused at the foot of the stairs. "But this must be the last. For half a year, or longer." "You had best take that up with the Lord Protector." She pushed through the door and crossed the yard. Colemon only wanted the best for his charge, Alayne knew, but what was best for Robert the boy and what was best for Lord Arryn were not always the same. Petyr had said as much, and it was true. Maester Colemon cares only for the boy, though. Father and I have larger concerns. - Alayne II, AFFC

In the last quote she says she has “larger concerns” than Robin’s health. All these characters are forced into motherly roles, even if they don’t like it at first, but Sansa is the only one of them who never actually feels that instinct to care for the child over other concerns. Not all people have motherly instincts so this is not a bad thing, it is simply a truth about her character. She does not have the connection to motherhood and children that others do.

Brienne, Arya and Dany on the other hand don’t conform to gender norms but they don’t disdain traditionally feminine women and all have super maternal instincts. Motherhood and children are an important part of all these characters’ arcs. With Dany, it’s blindingly obvious, and Brienne and Arya have this on a smaller scale, but they all care for and protect people like mothers. Sometimes this means being forceful to ensure they listen and are protected, but all mothers do the same.

The fire leapt from one house to another. Arya saw a tree consumed, the flames creeping across its branches until it stood against the night in robes of living orange. Everyone was awake now, manning the catwalks or struggling with the frightened animals below. She could hear Yoren shouting commands. Something bumped against her leg, and she glanced down to discover the crying girl clutching her. "Get away!" She wrenched her leg free. "What are you doing up here? Run and hide someplace, you stupid." She shoved the girl away. - Arya IV, ACOK

They found Gerren too, but he was hurt too bad to move. As they were running toward the barn, Arya spied the crying girl sitting in the middle of the chaos, surrounded by smoke and slaughter. She grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to her feet as the others raced ahead. The girl wouldn't walk, even when slapped. Arya dragged her with her right hand while she held Needle in the left. Ahead, the night was a sullen red. The barn's on fire, she thought. Flames were licking up its sides from where a torch had fallen on straw, and she could hear the screaming of the animals trapped within. Hot Pie stepped out of the barn. "Arry, come on! Lommy's gone, leave her if she won't come!" Stubbornly, Arya dragged all the harder, pulling the crying girl along. Hot Pie scuttled back inside, abandoning them . . . but Gendry came back, the fire shining so bright on his polished helm that the horns seemed to glow orange. He ran to them, and hoisted the crying girl up over his shoulder. "Run!" - Arya IV, ACOK

"Mostly just roofs," Arya admitted, "but some chimneys were smoking, and I heard a horse." The Weasel put her arms around her leg, clutching tight. Sometimes she did that now. [...] "If we see any leg potion, we'll bring it," Gendry said. "Arry, let's go, I want to get near before the sun is down. Hot Pie, you keep Weasel here, I don't want her following." [...] "You leave Weasel alone, she's just scared and hungry is all." Arya glanced back, but the girl was not following for once. Hot Pie must have grabbed her, like Gendry had told him. [...] Lommy and Hot Pie almost shit themselves when she stepped out of the trees behind them. "Quiet," she told them, putting an arm around Weasel when the little girl came running up. [...] "She ran off when she heard you coming," Lommy said. "You made a lot of noise." And Arya thought, Run, Weasel, run as far as you can, run and hide and never come back. - Arya V, ACOK

She would make much better time on her own, Arya knew, but she could not leave them. They were her pack, her friends, the only living friends that remained to her, and if not for her they would still be safe at Harrenhal, Gendry sweating at his forge and Hot Pie in the kitchens. If the Mummers catch us, I'll tell them that I'm Ned Stark's daughter and sister to the King in the North. I'll command them to take me to my brother, and to do no harm to Hot Pie and Gendry. They might not believe her, though, and even if they did . . . Lord Bolton was her brother's bannerman, but he frightened her all the same. I won't let them take us, she vowed silently, reaching back over her shoulder to touch the hilt of the sword that Gendry had stolen for her. I won't. - Arya I, ASOS

Arya with Weasel is such a strong example of her motherly instincts. Even though Arya is only 9/10 herself, she takes it upon herself to care for others even when everyone else is telling her not too. Like every other mother, she forces Weasel to do what’s best for her, protecting her even if it makes Weasel upset for a while. At least she’s alive and safe. And she’s good at being motherly too. Eventually, Weasel is actively seeking out Arya as her protector, clinging to her leg, and Arya holds Weasel so casually and naturally, it’s pretty much automatic. And her attachment to her “pack” throughout is just an extension of this because she is always “at the head”, the leader, the protector, the mother.

"They will not hurt me," she told him. "They are my children, Jorah." She laughed, put her heels into her horse, and rode to them, the bells in her hair ringing sweet victory. She trotted, then cantered, then broke into a gallop, her braid streaming behind. The freed slaves parted before her. "Mother," they called from a hundred throats, a thousand, ten thousand. "Mother," they sang, their fingers brushing her legs as she flew by. "Mother, Mother, Mother!" - Daenerys IV, ASOS

Dany had left a trail of corpses behind her when she crossed the red waste. It was a sight she never meant to see again. "No," she said. "I will not march my people off to die." My children. "There must be some way into this city." - Daenerys V, ASOS

Safe. The word made Dany's eyes fill up with tears. "I want to keep you safe." Missandei was only a child. With her, she felt as if she could be a child too. "No one ever kept me safe when I was little. Well, Ser Willem did, but then he died, and Viserys … I want to protect you but … it is so hard. To be strong. I don't always know what I should do. I must know, though. I am all they have. I am the queen … the … the …" "… mother," whispered Missandei. "Mother to dragons." Dany shivered. "No. Mother to us all." Missandei hugged her tighter. "Your Grace should sleep. Dawn will be here soon, and court." "We'll both sleep, and dream of sweeter days. Close your eyes." When she did, Dany kissed her eyelids and made her giggle. - Daenerys II, ADWD

The motherhood part of Dany’s arc is pretty much undeniable. She is the mother to dragons, mother to all her people. She calls them her “children”, they call her “Mhysa” and their care is her primary concern. As seen in the last quote, she agonises over not protecting them well enough, she worries constantly that she is putting them in danger when all she wants to do is keep them safe. Missandei reminds her that she is their mother and she is protecting them as best she can, and like Arya and Brienne she acts motherly in a more personal sense here, making Missandei giggle. Without a doubt, Dany is the best protector her children could have asked for. Motherhood I’m sure will only become more prevalent in Dany’s story going forward.

So far he had been true to his word, and Brienne had been true to hers. Podrick had not complained. Every time he raised a new blister on his sword hand, he felt the need to show it to her proudly. He took good care of their horses too. He is still no squire, she reminded herself, but I am no knight, no matter how many times he calls me "ser." She would have sent him on his way, but he had nowhere to go. Besides, though Podrick said he did not know where Sansa Stark had gone, it might be that he knew more than he realized. Some chance remark, half-remembered, might hold the key to Brienne's quest. - Brienne III, AFFC

Brienne had been betrothed at seven, to a boy three years her senior, Lord Caron's younger son, a shy boy with a mole above his lip. They had only met the once, on the occasion of their betrothal. Two years later he was dead, carried off by the same chill that took Lord and Lady Caron and their daughters. Had he lived, they would have been wed within a year of her first flowering, and her whole life would have been different. She would not be here now, dressed in man's mail and carrying a sword, hunting for a dead woman's child. More like she'd be at Nightsong, swaddling a child of her own and nursing another. It was not a new thought for Brienne. It always made her feel a little sad, but a little relieved as well. - Brienne III, AFFC

One of the women was very old, one was heavy with child, and one was a girl as fresh and pretty as a flower in spring. When Meribald took them off to hear their sins, Ser Hyle chuckled, and said, "It would seem the gods walk with us . . . at least the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone." Podrick looked so astonished that Brienne had to tell him no, they were only three marsh women. - Brienne V, AFFC

"Podrick has never harmed you. My father will ransom him. Tarth is called the sapphire isle. Send Podrick with my bones to Evenfall, and you'll have sapphires, silver, whatever you want." [...] Brienne felt the hemp constricting, digging into her skin, jerking her chin upward. Ser Hyle was cursing them eloquently, but not the boy. Podrick never lifted his eyes, not even when his feet were jerked up off the ground. If this is another dream, it is time for me to awaken. If this is real, it is time for me to die. All she could see was Podrick, the noose around his thin neck, his legs twitching. Her mouth opened. Pod was kicking, choking, dying. Brienne sucked the air in desperately, even as the rope was strangling her. Nothing had ever hurt so much. She screamed a word. - Brienne VIII, AFFC

Brienne is similar to Arya in terms of motherly instincts. She maybe begrudges her responsibility to Pod at first, but she recognises that responsibility straight away and takes it on nevertheless, protecting him, teaching him, encouraging him. Pod meanwhile seems to love Brienne, taking pride in being her squire, wanting to be at her side at all times. In the end, honour, quite possibly the most important thing for Brienne, is sacrificed to save Pod’s life.

It’s another deconstruction of classic fairy tale characters. Motherhood is associated with protection, and so the gnc women in the series taking on protector roles of the more traditional sense (ruling, wielding a sword, knighthood, etc.) are also mothers at the same time, and the classic princess is what she would realistically be like - superficial and largely without those instincts. It’s another reason to think Arya/ Brienne/ Daenerys will end the series with children of their own.

#asoiaf meta #my meta #this one kind of got away from me #but here you go anyway #daenerys targaryen #arya stark #brienne of tarth #sansa stark #motherhood #acok #asos #affc #adwd #it's not really a meta or that well written so I apologise

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mysterylover123 · 4 years

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My Hero Academia Episode 74 “Lemillion”

mysterylover123

Prepare for incoming tears.

Ooh, putting the “these erase powers” info right at the beginning. Clever.

This is in the manga, btw - Hori deliberately has Twice correct Chisaki for misgendering Magne. I’m betting that was his way of getting back at the censors for ‘innocently’ mistranslating Tiger’s bio info “once a woman, then he went to Thailand” (ie, for reassignment surgery) as “I once visited Thailand”. C’mon, guys. That’s not an innocent mistake.

Ooh, I love the way they animated truth-teller guy’s quirk! (sorry, don’t remember his name.) Another clever touch by bones, a way of setting up the drama of the ep to come.

HAHA WOW NICE.

Summarizing this section is basically: Bye bye annoying maze guy! (sorry the pic’s so blurry, i paused it in the middle of the action)

Bye bye my lovely Best Boi Deku, for another episode! Nice to see you again for like 2 minutes, kicking ass and taking names and being awesome! (cool your jets, imaginary me who doesn’t know where this is going, your impatience will be rewarded).

Oh boy. Here we go.

And just like that Nemoto became my favorite of the Hasaiikai. We really need him to use that quirk again on some of our main players in the future. Force some tragic confession that creates some “!!!” drama. Maybe one of those “Top Reveals” I was talking about before.

See? The “truth potion” thing is really helpful!

Ah, Viz translated that as “phantom Menace”! Like maybe they didn’t translate it that way cause they didn’t want to get in legal trouble with The Mouse, but c’mon, half the buildings in BNHA are named after Star Wars things anyway! (He still says it as Menace, so I’ll just have to see what happens in the Dub later.)

I will never get over that imagery. Also, I love how Hori never lets the damselled characters just be passive, sentient Macguffins. Eri has a lot of agency in this narrative, despite being kidnapped; it actually all depends not just on the heroes’ ability to defeat the Yakuza, but on Eri’s willingness to fight for her own freedom. None of this would’ve happened if she hadn’t tried to get away in the first place, and....well, I’ll avoid spoilers. Let’s just say this is important.

Aw!

F*ck off with your gaslighting Chisaki!

So cool to finally see this panel animated! Look at those colors!

Overhaul you are The Worst.

Screw you Edna Mirio says Yes Capes!

Oh, Overhaul backstory. Yay?

Here it is. Oh man. Mirio.

I’ll be honest, I actually cried reading this part in the manga. It’s just so well done.

Thanks Hori & Bones I didn’t need that heart.

You know, Hero Society is really being stupid by shunning people without powers. All Might, Deku, now stripped-of-power Mirio? You guys are stupid.

no no no ow damn watching that again...

HOLY CRAP BONES YOU ARE BEING REALLY GOOD WITH USING THAT OP IMAGERY!

And finally, DEKU! OMG IVE MISSED YOU! PUT THIS CHISAKI GUY IN THE FUCKING DIRT!!!!

Episode 74, or if you like, Season 4 Episode 11. That was great. Good job, Bones. I was a little worried when you stopped last episode before the living maze died, but now I see why. This was perfect. The perfect way to adapt this chapter. They animated it brilliantly, and basically added even more touches to make this section as heartbreaking as possible. Like I said, I teared up when I read this in the manga. It’s so sad, and while we know on a meta level the reason for having Mirio lose his power (the whole Nighteye - Deku - All might thing), even if you ignore that part, and look at Mirio’s story on it’s own, it’s just...sad and elegaic and weirdly perfect. My heart goes out to Mirio here. He really just...impresses. Of course, ngl: My biggest hype moment in the arc is yet to come. Go on, MIdoriya. (points dramatically at camera) Now, it’s your turn.

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hungwy · 5 years

Text

wall of text about worldbuilding problems lol

a problem im having with worldbuilding right now is magical systems and deities. i want to include the supernatural and the mystical in my universe but since i approach their inclusion the same as i do everything else in worldbuilding (that is, from metaphysical naturalism) i cant help but think their existence would change literally everything. it is impossible for me to consciously make an alt-earth with magic and gods -- hell im having trouble justifying in my head that humans evolved at all, since their environment isn't perfectly geographically African (im using a realistic randomly generated map, so i cant just edit it either...) so you can see that i basically do nothing but consider the butterfly effect all day

ive been playing skyrim lately and i noticed that, since magic exists in the world, theres no real sense of magical wonder. reactions to strange events with “how did this happen???” seem incredibly stupid to me considering people KNOW about destruction, illusion, restoration spells, etc. and potions that have similar effects. i wouldnt want this in my worldbuilding. if someone turns invisible, i want people to have a justified freak out, because no one just turns invisible. therefore magic would have to be very limited in its scope, at least in the public eye. but i cant really convince myself that magic’s potential would stay secret for very long. it would be completely unrealistic to have a worldwide taboo on magic, either; there will always be people who think using magical power is fine, and there will always be some way to access it. so im kind of stuck at this highly decisive crossroad either to not have any real wonder to mysticism and have it basically be known for sure that magic exists (which follows that people with extrapolate its potential) or to have a true wonder to magic thats basically completely inaccessible and irrelevant in its application and power.

so that gets me thinking maybe i would have gods that bestow magical powers upon people, right? having a conscious mind cherrypicking who gets magic still keeps the wonder of actually possessing magic and makes sure its actually potent power. but that opens up a huge can of metaphysical worms... that would imply gods make direct contact with humanity and i really want humans to grow organically. i would even like human ideas of deities to stray away from the actual truth about them so that theres variety, but that would statistically mean one religion (the most conservative) would probably get a lot more right than every other one... which means, if the gods are anthropomorphic in any way, they WOULD FAVOR that religion. i both dont want the meta implication that some religions are more valid than others nor have anthropomorphic gods, because if gods exist in my world, they certainly dont embody human-ness. this kind of strays into lovecraftian territory which is fine i guess but i feel that i shouldnt get too close to those ideas or else it’ll seem like im using them instead of growing my own. im just not sure how gods would fit in with the science either... everything is hard when youre a metaphysical naturalist and want to make everything hyperrealistic...

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homebehindarchive-blog · 5 years

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YOU CAN IGNORE THIS IF YOU'RE NOT FEELING THE META / DRABBLE LIFE BUT: how about talking about the times that marlene almost notices the tells that sirius is being abused at home, or the times that she does notice but doesn't put together what's actually happening ??

i. it isn’t the first thing she noticed on the first morning after the sorting, when she plops herself down next to james, but it’s the second: james’s new friend had a howler in the mail, and it’s sitting there, bright red and waiting, on the table. she knows what they are - - her parents had sent at least one to her brother, ian. “a howler?” she asks, not quite noticing the strange look on his face. “it’s the first day, what could you have possibly done?” she had forgotten that he was a black. she had forgotten that they usually went to slytherin. all, it seemed, but one. walburga’s voice was the first to remind her, though, screeching into the great hall about pride and blood and “the noble and most ancient house of black.” it made marlene pause with her teeth sunk into a bite of toast, listening wide-eyed as sirius stares down at the table. when the shrieking stops the great hall falls silent, then erupts into titters that dissolve on the air, back to the chatter of the day. (from the corner of her eye, marlene sees an older girl at the slytherin table crane her neck, trying to catch sirius’s eye, and they look enough alike that marlene thinks they must be related.) “what was that all about?” she asks around a mouthful of toast and marmalade, but sirius doesn’t answer. and marlene doesn’t ask again. she’s always heard that the blacks are a little odd. she just didn’t know how much.

ii. the train ride home at the end of the year is full of spilling golden summer light and laughter, it’s chock-full of piles of sweets bought from the cart with whatever sickles and galleons of pocket money they all have left between them. still, even she can’t help but notice (as she picks her way deftly through a box of bertie bott’s) that sirius is more quiet than usual, there’s a stiffness to his shoulders, and when they get to the station he’s gone so fast there’s barely a goodbye. he’s gone so fast that she almost doesn’t see him, but then she catches sight of his dark hair, weaving through the crowds. she sees him slow to a walk that she almost doesn’t recognize as he comes up to three people standing there: a severe-looking man and woman, one young boy. perhaps, she thinks, he had missed them. maybe that explained the rush. she doesn’t have the time to dwell on it, though : her brothers are calling her, and she turns away. (she doesn’t see the way he flinches when walburga grasps his chin, doesn’t see the set of his father’s jaw.)

iii. there’s a bruise blooming beneath the sleeve of his shirt, and the edge of it she sees she doesn’t like. it looks wrong, somehow, worse than it should, though she doesn’t really know why. “merlin, black, what’d you do, get in a fight with a hippogriff?” she asks, reaching up to tug his sleeve up, aiming for a better look....just to be met with a sharp sort of grumble, a quick pull away, and sirius adjusting the sleeve of his quidditch uniform to cover the mark. “it’s nothing,” he says, and...well. why wouldn’t she believe him?

iv. she doesn’t think of the bruise again until a year or so later, when they’re different. when something between them sparks and ignites, and neither of them can seem to let it go. when they’re all hands and lips and teeth and skin, when his lips are on her neck and her hands are exploring beneath the hem of his shirt. when her fingernails press just a little too hard, and he cringes. (she’s already noticed that he’s different when they come back from holidays, just a little more intense, his grasp on her tighter, his kisses a touch rougher. and she never complains, she plays right along, she enjoys the effects...but wonders at the cause, and after wonder comes a tinge of worry.) her hands press the shirt up further, but when she tries to crane her neck around his shoulder to get a better look he growls, grabs her wrists and pins them up by her head. distracts her from questions with a kiss both demanding and pleading.

v. “no one gets hit by that many bludgers, james,” she mutters, scowling down at her empty parchment as though glaring at it could write her potions essay. “not him, anyway, i would have seen that.” but james only sighs, and when she looks up, there’s a helplessness in her friend’s eyes that she doesn’t know what to do with. “what?” she asks, setting her quill down to look at james more closely. “james, what is it?” and what he says is what she’s been dreading all along, all without knowing she was dreading it: it’s a puzzle piece that makes the rest come clear, all those moments in the years gone by, all those moments since that howler. “it’s not bludgers, marls,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “it’s....it’s his family.” and i don’t know what to do, he doesn’t say. not out loud. but she can see it in his eyes. the worst part is, neither does she.

#abuse tw #abuse mention tw #marlene mckinnon: sirius black (choosehero)#marlene mckinnon: general #marlene mckinnon: replies #(i think tbh that she knew something was Up pretty much the whole time but)#(didn't piece together what it was until the end)#(she's the sort of trusting that takes what her friends tell her at face value)#(especially when she's younger)#(so she's willing to look past things if sirius says they're nothing)#(up to a point)#choosehero

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progeny-of-the-fury · 6 years

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Drachen Trials: Endurance | Part IV

Log date: 3/8/18

OOC Note: The text in these logs are strictly for the reader’s enjoyment. Anyone using the knowledge displayed within this text without the participant’s knowledge risks the potential of blacklisting from future communication and roleplay. Please do not meta-game!

Tags: @truth-of-the-warden

And then came the third. Each one that passed, worse than the other… by more means than one. How I dreaded this all. How this once proud tradition I could not wait to fulfill was sullied with each passing trial.

Hestia De'bayle approached with Killian, adjusting her gauntlets over her arms. Dogs at the man’s side, Hestia looked over the two before her. “Good to see you both again. How are you faring?”

Killian Waltz says nothing, holding Summer and Mercy to heel at his sides with one hand, his cane in the other.

Lucius Guiscareaux: “I am faring well, despite this weather.”

Hestia De'bayle: “Not a fan of lightning?”

Gaelle Favagenieur pulls the collar of her coat tightly around the nape of her neck, offering the pair a curt nod. “Good evening Baroness, Mister Waltz.”

Killian Waltz: “Good evening,” Killian echoes in a cool tone.

Hestia De'bayle: “Well then Ser Lucius, to cut to the chase. What is my trial for today?” She asks flatly.

Lucius Guiscareaux: “You will be partaking in your trials of endurance. Specifically you wil be journeying from henceforth to falcon’s nest. Without succor. You will complete this task without footwear and you will be weighted down.”

Hestia De'bayle: “With…” she inhales. “Understood,” she says simply. Turning toward Killian, Hestia cleared her throat. “Killian, might you have a potions to help me along the way? In case I need one?”

Killian Waltz presses his lips together. “You’ll get frostbite walking barefoot through the snow for so long.”

Gaelle Favagenieur ’s eyes flit immediately towards Hestia, then to Killian, studying their faces.

Hestia De'bayle: “I will take the measures needed to prevent such along the way. Endurance is not simply just the walk, but the survival of it all. I will take what is necessary of me to care for myself along the way. If I find myself failing, I will contact you all. Obviously resulting in my failure of this trial.”

Gaelle Favagenieur: “Let us hope it does not come to that.”

Hestia De'bayle: “I have faith in myself, that it will not.”

Lucius Guiscareaux: “If you manage it, consider this trial completed, Hestia.”

Gaelle Favagenieur nods, “As you should, Baroness.”

Hestia De'bayle: “Understood, Ser Lucius. I will carry out my duty to my utmost capabilities.”

Killian Waltz tucks his cane under one arm to pull his shouldered bag over his head, offering it to Hestia. “This is all I have. Don’t push yourself too hard. Losing a foot or even just a toe will upset your ability to walk and fight more than you might realize, and I can’t undo frostbite with magic.”

Hestia De'bayle: “Ser, if I may. To prevent potential injury that could inhibit my ability as a Dragoon after the trials needlessly, might I at least don a light pair of leather espadrilles? I do not imagine they will offer much protection, but I certainly think they can hold me out and offer me a more fair chance at crossing.”

Lucius Guiscareaux approached the woman, handing her what appeared to be old, but not ancient, body weights. Arms and ankles respectfully, he nearly sneered for a moment, before considering her words. “You may.”

Hestia De'bayle: “Thank you,” she accepted the weights, they dipping her hands a moment with the unexpected weight before she also accepted Killian’s bag. “I swear to you Killian, if things are looking grim, I will ensure I make contact.”

Killian Waltz: “You’ll know you need to take a break if your feet start to cause you a lot of pain, replaced by a prickling feeling and numbness. You need to tend to them then or the damage will be irreversible.”

Hestia De'bayle: “Mm. Understood. Have you anything in here to help with such? Frostbite or anything of the sort?”

Killian Waltz: “Those are potions, but…” Killian pats down his jacket until he finds another pouch, pulling it from his belt and offering it to Hestia. “Fire-aspected crystals. They can help with rewarming the skin, but it’s…not an ideal method. Don’t touch them directly.”

Hestia De'bayle: “Mm. Alright, I will shove them in some socks I have, and use them similarly to an ice-pack if needed,” she accepts the crystals. “Thank you. I imagine you will be waiting for me at Falcons Nest?”

Lucius Guiscareaux: “That is the plan. I’ve brought a nice cask or two of the finer drinks in life to await your arrival, should you manage this.”

Killian Waltz: “I…I suppose,” Killian mumbles. He lifts a hand up…to Nogelle, surprisingly, close enough for the wyvern to respond to his following words but not actually touching him. “Can you make sure she doesn’t lose anything?” he murmurs.

Nogelle narrows his eyes between the three, eventually focusing his beady gaze onto Killian. Exhaling through his nostrils, he pecked at the mans palm some before poking Hestia’s head. “Alright. I am to go and prepare then. I will see you all in some… bells,” she mumbles, turning on her heel to retreat back into the settlement to set up.

After carefully organizing and familiarizing myself with the materials Killian offered me, fitting myself with the weights to my arms and legs, and appropriately changing my footwear to a pair of leather espadrilles, I moved out of Tailfeather to begin my journey.

I would not admit to Ser Guiscareaux, Miss Favageniuer or even Killian that I was afraid. Reminded of my time under Hitokiri when the man thrusted me into the wilderness. Alone, small. Afraid.

Afraid.

That was an emotion I had grown all too familiar with. And one he taught me how to lock away. I wished to be a knight. However, I knew better. They are not built without fear. I know once upon a time, even Ser Lucius expressed fear. Perhaps he still did. Though he was taught that the priority of the matters at hand were far greater than that of our own consternation. I was taught the same. Fear is what drives us to live, we all feel it or how would we survive in this world?

Already, I felt the snow begin to soak the leather of my shoes after breaching the Highlands, the cold blistering and fierce. Fury… perhaps She was listening during this all. I wish to walk in Her image, and here I found I was. Over Her glaciers, and chilling winds. Perhaps She was guiding me? Or perhaps after already a bell or so of walking through an endless wasteland of ivory, I was finally losing it.

It was then that I began to feel it. Pain in my feet. My legs and my arms. Pain all over. It was miserable, the journey. But… it reminded me of something. As though the pain was metaphorical. The suffering most Dragoons underwent for such a title. They went through anything. They would do anything for their people, for what mattered. To protect.

I thought of Killian, how he awaited me at Falcons Nest. More than likely having distanced himself from Miss Favagenieur and Ser Guiscareaux. Sitting in the cold. Waiting. Waiting for me.

I knew he was. And somehow, they drove my legs to keep moving forward. He would willingly bare the cold for me. To know I was safe. I did not want this for him. I did not want him to suffer in the cold on my behalf. This march I made, this fight I accepted. Is to protect him. My future family. My current family.

I was uncertain as to how much time had passed by now. My senses felt dulled by the cold, and all I saw was white. Everywhere. The snow stung my face as the wind only added to sharpness I felt. Like knives stabbing into me. I knew now would be a good time to rest. I had to. If I were to be stubborn and continue, I would risk hurting myself for the future. Then what? Would everything I allowed to happen, everything I worked so hard for be for naught?

I was not about to find out.

Keeping my weights on, I shuffled around to begin gathering what dry firewood I could. Situating myself under an outstretched bolder, I set up the camp just as Hito had once taught me, all those winters ago. Pulling out some flint from the bag Killian offered me, I worked to light the fire. It proved just as stubborn as I, my hands feeling numb and hard to use. After some frustrated cursing and struggling, I managed a small flame. Building it, it finally rose into a greater inferno. First warming my hands, I then situated myself by the fire and worked off my shoes.

My feet were certainly a sore sight. Red, covered in blisters. Thankfully they still had their feeling and colour, albeit I might have wished not so much on the former. Placing them by the flame, I lowered my head.

What was I doing…

I shook my head some, a deep huff of air visibly leaving my mouth. I felt Nogelle crawl himself down my legs, resting his warm body against my ankles. It was only then I realized there were tears running down my cheeks. The icy nature of them completely lost to the wind. Once my feet were warmed enough, I went through the bag once more in search of the fire crystals Killian offered me.

Warming my feet through the socks that held them, eventually they appeared in better shape, aside from the blisters. After such, I placed the crystals within my shoes, hoping to warm them some before I returned to my journey.

The rest was well needed. I felt starved, having not brought food with, but thankfully quenched as I gulped at the canteen I kept within the bag. I felt the hunger could work as incentive to push me. I certainly felt a drive to move forward. I rested some minutes longer before re-equipping my shoes back on and putting out the fire. Solidifying myself once more with a visage of focus, I found myself back in fond memories of a similar determined state. Back when I was a girl.

Back when I was left to travel and wander alone.

I was reminded of who I was made to be. Who I am now. Why I went through all this. The snow wished to break me… but I would not allow it to do so.

I returned to my wandering, Camp Falcon’s Nest now but a small blip in the distance. I knew I could make it. I could do this. I knew I could.

Trudging through the snow, I passed an abandoned settlement. Camp Riversmeet, I believe it was. Once a thriving lodging located over the vast green hills of Coerthas… now left to wither and fade away with the rest of the history that once lay here.

It was… almost tragic. No. It was. It was tragic. I recalled the melting of snow beside the fire I had lit, and the small remnants of what once was a grassy field. I felt my heart ache yet again. Wondering what could have been of a now desolate location.

More times passed. Presumably bells as the sky grew darker. I knew not how far I had travelled, lost to my own thoughts. Before I knew it, Falcon’s Nest was just ahead.

A small gasp left me as I looked up, my body once more numbed by the cold. Tightening my painfully chapped lips together, I made my final march up toward the stone fortress. This was a trial I would overcome, and with this… any other thrown my way.

Some bells passed, no sign of the half-Elezen in all that time. Eventually, the young woman made her approach on Falcon’s Nest, her legs just barely carrying her to the end.

Killian sits huddled up in a little ball with Summer and Mercy, enough snow gathered over them to suggest they’d been out here perhaps for the entire duration of Hestia’s absence. As the dogs stir, whining and wiggling against Killian, he lifts his head some, his face bright red with chill and wind burn. “Hestia?”

Dragging herself up the stairs practically, Hestia turned toward where Killian sat, her lips chapped and scabbed and her face bright red with burns. “Killian…” she rasped out.

Killian struggles up to his feet, reaching out for Hestia as he steps toward her. “Come here, come here,” he murmurs.

Staggering, Hestia took a heavy step toward him, her feet dragging loudly against the stone as she leaned forward. “I… knew I would make it. I knew…”

Killian’s hands find Hestia, Summer and Mercy yipping and whining excitedly behind him. He pulls her into his arms, then shifts to help her sit. “Let me tend to you. Let me…” He stirs again to search for Hestia’s legs. “What are you feeling?”

“They hurt…” Hestia noted out needlessly. “My arms, my legs… everything. The cold is a cruel mistress…” she laughs out dryly, a cough escaping her. “I can still… move them though. I feel numb, all over…”

Killian works his frozen fingers over the weights at Hestia’s ankles, then breathes into his hands in an attempt to warm them for her skin. His breath is too cold to offer much help, so instead he tries to offer healing warmth to her legs and feet with the blue-white glow of magic.

Regardless of how cold Killian’s hands might feel, they were still warmer than both Hestia’s frigids skin and the icy winds of Coerthas, providing some immediate relief. “Ah…” she exhales out as she felt the warm spread through her body. “That is nice…”

“Here…here.” Killian shifts to pull off his own boots, then the leathers wrapped around Hestia’s feet, quickly working to pull his boots over her feet and legs in their place. They’re too big, of course, but much warmer than the snow-soaked leathers. Summer and Mercy cuddle up with them as well.

“Thank you…” Hestia murmured, lying there exhausted. “I… I passed. I think?”

“You made it,” Killian murmurs, tucking Hestia into his arms. “I’m sure there’s…food and a fire somewhere inside. With Ser Guiscareaux and Lady Favagenieur. If you hold onto my cane and your lance in your arms instead of at your back, I can carry you there. Summer and Mercy can lead me.”

“I do not… I can… I can walk,” Hestia nods, struggling to stand up, using Killian for leverage. “I can get there.”

Killian rises up to his feet, snow quickly soaking through his socks. “Are you sure? I can carry you. I can help you.”

“You can carry me home. I will march all the way to him, so he can see I passed…” Hestia nodded, beginning forward once more.

Killian walks somewhat slowly alongside Hestia, shivering some as cold transfers up through his soaked feet.

Hestia De'bayle finally enters into the room alongside Killian and Nogelle. Her face was burned and lips cracked. “Evening…” she managed out. Slugging over toward the table, slamming her fist into the wood. “I passed,” she states simply, as though there was no argument for it.

Hestia De'bayle: “B-work,” she growled out, moving to sit herself down. Her expression was only determination, nothing else. “I will eat something, then I am to return to the estate.”

Killian Waltz murmurs a command to the dogs, who sit obediently at the table’s edge. Searching and approaching the nearest seat, he pulls off his socks, curling up to warm his own feet.

Lucius Guiscareaux: “You asked for shoes.” He stated, picking up his own glass and taking a sip. “Regardless, fine work.”

Killian Waltz: “No she didn’t.”

Hestia De'bayle: “Yes I did Killian,” she sighs out exhaustingly.

Killian Waltz: “Those leather skins weren’t shoes. They were soaked through with snow. Shoes are protective. Those aren’t.”

Gaelle Favagenieur sets each plate in front of the respective members of the group before taking a seat of her own. “Welcome back, Baroness” she’d remark, her gaze shifting towards Killian with noticeable annoyance in her eyes.

Hestia De'bayle: “Thank you, Ser Guiscareaux.” She looked over toward Gaelle. “Thank you Miss Favagenieur,” she answers blandly, accepting her plate of food. “Enough Killian.”

Lucius Guiscareaux: “I’m not here to argue semantics, Mister Waltz.”

Killian Waltz pushes his plate away and uncurls from his ball, taking his cane again and moving wordlessly toward the door.

Gaelle Favagenieur: “Please, eat.”

Hestia De'bayle shakes her head, bringing a miserable hand up to rub at her face. “Soon… soon this will all be over,” she murmurs, pressing a fork into whatever dish was provided before her to slowly bringing to her mouth.

Lucius Guiscareaux: “You’re going to be a dragoon, the hardship doesn’t end, its part of your life. It’s the sacrifices you make so that others may live without having to make these same choices.”

Gaelle Favagenieur: “…”

Lucius Guiscareaux: “This is child’s play, please. Relax and enjoy your meal, you’ve earned it and then some. I’d dare say I’m proud.”

Hestia De'bayle: “I do not mean the trials,” she says grimly.

Lucius Guiscareaux: “I am aware of what you speak of. It is nothing, now stop being so dour and enjoy the food Gaelle had ordered, and get some rest.”

Hestia De'bayle: “I am eating it,” she gestures up her fork, continuing to eat in silence as she stared off blankly.

Gaelle Favagenieur: “I grow tired of this. I have attempted to be amicable, to disregard the events of your previous trial—yet any and all civility is rebuked as though I am some feral beast,” she spurts, jabbing into her own meal with her fork.

Hestia De'bayle: “He does not handle frustration from others well. It only upsets and draws him away further…” she mumbles. “Worry not. Once these are all over, you need not see him again nor vice versa.

Gaelle Favagenieur: "Let it be known that I had tried,” she’d remark blandly.

Lucius Guiscareaux: “I will not bother to try. The final door was closed when he interrupted your trial. I do not forgive those who do not respect our nation’s customs. YOur trials will continue, and you will succeed, or fail.”

Hestia De'bayle: “Mm,” she shrugs her shoulder up, moving to shovel her food into her mouth.

Lucius Guiscareaux: “I need to depart, my brother needs me yet again. Speaking of insolent.” He shook his head, making sure to actually take the dinner with him, wrapped in the napkin he was provided. “Thank you Gaelle, and Hestia, your trials will continue shortly. Pray, recover from the madness of this trial and we shall continue.”

Gaelle Favagenieur offers a wordless grunt in response, slicing into her dinner with a dull knife.

Hestia De'bayle: “Mm,” she murmurs out in a similar wordless grunt, her plate now finished as she pushed herself away from the table. “I am to return to the estate now,” she says in a coarse voice. “Thank you for the food, Miss Favagenieur. Take care the both of you. I would like to accompany you, Lucius, if you’d have me. I wish to return to the See at once.”

Hestia De'bayle: “Killian.”

Lucius Guiscareaux: “Please, lets.”

Killian Waltz sits curled up in the alcove, his scarf now wrapped around his otherwise bare feet to protect them from the cold. “Do you have your boots?”

Hestia De'bayle: “I do not, they are back in tailfeather. Take them back. I can walk to the See. I will be fine on an airship,” she moves to remove the boots, tossing them to the man. “If I can survive as long as I did, I can survive a bit longer. I am leaving now.”

Killian Waltz: “No. Keep the boots. And take the dogs. I’ll teleport.”

Hestia De'bayle: “Fine.” She moves to take the dogs and re-fasten her boots before taking her leave.

Miserable.

#journal #drachen trials #age of dawn and dusk

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