#and knowledge without integrity is dangerous and dreadful.”

[authenticity2025]

“Integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, and knowledge without integrity is dangerous and dreadful.” — Samuel Johnson

[philosophors]

“Integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, and knowledge without integrity is dangerous and dreadful.”

— Samuel Johnson

[splendsay]

COD Fic // Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 10: Father's Daughter

hello hi yes more angsty hand holding in this chapter UR WELCOME I had to do a lil bit o' research for this one to make sure all my i's were dotted n' shit, so I am hopeful everything comes across in a way that tracks with reality as much as possible and it all makes sense and also that u love it and honestly if u don't that's really none of my business

Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 10 // Father's Daughter

.................................................................. CWs: Explicit language, vague mentions of past trauma and recovery, descriptions of guns

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader (You), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Chapter Excerpt:

"You won't find it anywhere. It doesn't exist."

Soap frowns. "What d'you mean?"

You stare at them -- these men you hardly know. They seem so earnest. You hate that. You hate that you only have one thing to offer them -- a measly supply of information relative to your crazed scientist father's end-of-life havoc-wreaking. 

You tighten your grip on Ghost's fingers, and he runs a comforting thumb along your pinky.

"Toward the end... My father...he got more and more erratic. His behaviors, his decisions. They didn't make sense. He wasn't himself."

Gaz leans forward on his elbows, nudging his bowl to the side. "In what way?"

"He stopped taking my calls--"

"Because you were discharged?"

You try not to feel the sting of that word on someone else's tongue, but it's hard. Even after all this time. 

"Partially, maybe," you ponder. "But he'd been deteriorating even before that. I'd thought he was just manic -- obsessed with the task at hand. That wasn't entirely out of the ordinary. But he was taking shortcuts he wouldn't normally. He told me one day that..." You trail off. The memory is like a bloodstain. 

"Dad...dad, slow down."

"It's the breakthrough of a century, Sunny," your father speaks to you through rough, choppy pants, as though he's got blades in his lungs. He's been chain-smoking again.

"This...this will be my legacy," he goes on. "Everything I've worked for, everything I've done. Nothing will top this. It's perfect -- it's the perfect specimen, I know it is."

"Dad, what about trials?"

"I don't fucking need trials! We'll go strai--"

"But, you're pre-clinical, you can't proceed on humans without testing the potential implicatio--"

"Who the fuck do you work for, the FDA? I don't have to do shit!"

"But the ethics of jumping straight to--"

Your father's voice is as cold as you've ever heard it when he cuts you off again. "Integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, Sunny. You know this."

There's a momentary, bitter pause as you digest his words. Words you know, words he's recited to you a hundred times. "Dad," you plead. "There's anoth--"

"Goodbye, Sunny."

The line goes dead.

The sensation of Ghost squeezing your knee again brings you back to the present.

..................................................................... Links to: Spotify Playlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

.................................................................

"Integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, and knowledge without integrity is dangerous and dreadful." - Samuel Johnson (1709 - 1784), English Author, Poet, and Literary Critic and Writer

[connectparanormal]

Demons and Demonology

This essay has some good background information on demons. However, let me add to this essay. Do not mess around with demons.

Whether through rituals, occult practices, or just plain curiosity, interacting with demons presents serious risks that exceed any potential advantages. Dealing with demons, typically perceived as evil supernatural beings, carries inherent risks. History and popular culture frequently portray demons as entities that seek to harm, trick, or corrupt people. These representations are based on a profound awareness of the dangers associated with such interactions, rather than being just artifacts from a superstitious past.

First of all, attempting to communicate with demons can have extremely negative psychological effects. Such events can cause tension and anxiety that are too much for the human mind to process. Individuals who engage in these sinister activities frequently talk about experiencing anxiety, paranoia, and sometimes hallucinations. The act of believing that one has successfully called forth a demon might set off a self-fulfilling prophecy in which the person's mental health declines as a result of stress and anxiety over the alleged existence of a hostile force. Long-term psychological problems, such as severe anxiety disorders, depression, and even psychosis, may arise from this. Furthermore, conversing with devils might have detrimental effects on one's spiritual state. Numerous religious traditions forbid such behavior, stressing that communication with demonic beings might result in spiritual degradation. For instance, Christians view demons as fallen angels who have sinned against God and are now attempting to deceive people. Engaging with them is considered a risk to one's soul and moral integrity, potentially exposing oneself to spiritual harm. In a secular sense, trying to communicate with demons is like inviting negativity and malevolence into your life, which can damage your relationships with other people and your overall well-being. Furthermore, there's a good chance that these activities will cause physical harm. Fire, poisonous materials, and sharp objects are common dangers in rituals intended to call forth or communicate with demons. There is a great chance of accidents, particularly when amateurs are handling these materials without the knowledge and experience needed to handle them safely. Moreover, the elevated emotional and mental conditions experienced during these customs may result in careless actions, raising the possibility of harm to oneself or others. The social and cultural ramifications of interacting with demons are crucial factors to take into account. Typically, people discourage these behaviors, which can lead to social exclusion. When friends and relatives discover that someone is involved in demonic activities, they may respond with dread, worry, or open rejection. This can exacerbate any pre-existing mental health conditions, making the person even more vulnerable by causing alienation and the disintegration of vital support systems.

Lastly, it is critical to realize that trying to communicate with demons usually does not result in the results you are hoping for. Individuals frequently go after these beings in the hopes of acquiring strength, wisdom, or extraterrestrial support. But in actuality, any alleged advantages are frequently unreal or come at a hefty price. By definition, demons are cunning and manipulative beings. The long-term effects, which might include a growing sense of dread, losing control over one's life, and even more serious psychological and spiritual harm, are probably going to outweigh any short-term rewards. To sum up, there are a variety of risks associated with dealing with demons, including social, psychological, spiritual, and bodily ones. I advise against such undertakings because the risk of harm greatly outweighs the possibility of profit. Seeking out constructive, good solutions to one's aspirations and problems is a far better course of action than resorting to destructive, deceptive supernatural beings.

[budgetpestcontrolpgh2]

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The Hidden Threat

One of the reasons termites are so dangerous is their ability to remain hidden while causing extensive damage. They can eat away at the wooden structures of a building for years without being detected. By the time homeowners notice signs of an infestation, such as hollow-sounding wood, discarded wings, or mud tubes, the damage may be severe.

Professional Pest Control Services

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Treatment Methods

A professional will conduct a comprehensive inspection of your property, identifying not only the presence of termites but also potential entry points and conducive conditions. This allows for a targeted treatment plan that addresses the root cause of the problem.Professional pest control companies employ various methods to treat termite infestations using EPA-registered products that are safe for your family and pets while still being potent enough to exterminate termites. They also have the proper training and equipment to handle these products safely and responsibly.

Preventative Measures

In addition to treating existing infestations, professional pest control services can also help prevent future termite problems. They can provide recommendations for reducing moisture around the foundation, sealing entry points, and maintaining a termite-free environment.

Termites pose a serious threat to the structural integrity of buildings. Professional pest control services like Budget Pest Control Services are essential for effectively detecting, eliminating, and preventing termite infestations. By relying on the expertise of professionals, homeowners can protect their properties from the costly damage caused by these destructive pests. If you suspect a termite problem, don't hesitate to contact a professional pest control service to ensure the safety and longevity of your home.

Contact Budget Pest Control today for a free estimate or more details. 412-318-4912. Contact our team today to see how we can keep you termite-free all year long.

#budgetpestcontrol #pestcontrol #pittsburghpestcontrol #pestinfestations #termitecontrol #ratremoval #bedbugremovall #cockroachremoval #stinkbugremoval 

[sinnerincarnated]

#Integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, and knowledge without integrity is dangerous and dreadful...

[postersbykeith]

[elizabethanism]

"Integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, and knowledge without integrity is dangerous and dreadful."

Samuel Johnson

The History of Rasselas

[serendipitous-magic]

You might've talked about this already, but any tips for writer's block???

(Disclaimer: many of these are paraphrased from writing advice I've seen and liked myself, but can't for the life of me remember where I saw it or who said it.)

1) For existing stories: have a plan. Even if you’re someone who doesn’t like planning stories, have the most basic of skeleton plans. You don’t have to come up with the whole plan at once, and you don’t have to plan every little detail. But when you think of a plot point or scene or detail or whatever that you want to use later in the story, jot it down. Don’t count on yourself to remember it. You won’t.

And if you’re a person that hates planning stories, don’t think of it as a plan. Just think of it as saving the ideas you want to use later.

-_-

2) Write down your daydreams.

No, seriously. One of my biggest challenges in writing is that when I’m trying too hard, nothing happens. My best ideas happen when my brain is just playing, not even writing, just like... Going off on intangible adventures while I wash the dishes and listen to music. I’ll surface from some complicated daydream about a band of cowboys staging a horseback rescue mission for a friend being held prisoner on a moving locomotive, ending with the horse leaping over a narrow canyon Spirit style, and suddenly I’m like “wait, shit, this is good.” This applies for individual scenes, but also plot - the same thing often happens (to me at least) for larger plot points. I’ll be happily daydreaming a scene and suddenly one of the characters tearfully says, “I expected this from the others. I did. But from you? My own brother?” And I’m like WHOA WAIT, THEY’RE SIBLINGS? PLOT TWIST! And like... sometimes that shit makes it into the actual story I’m writing (or I write it down and save it for a future story) and becomes a major part of the plot, lol.

Point being, the things you come up with when you’re not even trying - when you’re just having fun, fucking around in the fandom or in whatever various universes you’ve created in your brain (anyone else? No? Just me?) - those effortless ideas are often some of the best ones. Because of how human brains work, it can be really, really hard to force yourself to make something good.

So if you’re just happily daydreaming, and you find yourself thinking, “Damn, this is actually pretty good,” write it down. You might be able to use it later.

-_-

3) If you’re in the middle of a story / scene and you get hit with writers’ block, or you find yourself rewriting the same sentence or paragraph or page over and over, or simply feel unable to continue forward - your problem is not that sentence / paragraph / page, it’s several sentences / paragraphs / pages back.

For example: if you can’t seem to figure out what a character should say next, first try the usual thing and plan ahead. Where does this conversation need to go? What needs to be revealed? What emotional beats need to occur? What information needs to pass from character to character? Does it need to continue? Maybe you just need to cut the scene or have the next plot point happen there.

But if none of that (the “usual stuff”) is working, don’t look ahead, look back. Your problem is probably actually a few lines ago. The conversation meandered too far from what it was supposed to be, or the conversation could have been three lines and it just kept going on for two pages after the plot point ended, or you’re not sure what the emotional beats of the scene are supposed to be so you’re floundering.

When trying to move forward isn’t working, look back instead. Mid-story writers’ block is often a sign that something went awry a little while ago, and you’re seeing the symptoms now. The stubborn paragraph is the check-engine light, not the engine itself. Go back and read over the last page (or more, depending on how big the issue is) and see if you can feel out what the issue is. Did the plot point end two or three pages ago and you just never stopped the scene? Are you relying too much on action and dialogue but forgot to describe the scene as it goes on, so it’s all happening in kind of a vague gray void? Did you get into a rut of repetitive sentence structure because you lost the flow a while ago, and now you’re just cranking out words mechanically?

-_-

4) Don’t be afraid to write “stupid version:” at the top of the page and just go for it, in the most cheesy, over-the-top, bad, obvious, flat, boring, illogical, improbable, unbelievable way. Or whatever way ends up coming out of you. You can go back and fix it once you’ve found the ideas you want to hold onto. Remember, “the first draft (whether that’s for the entire story, or just a draft of a single scene, or a single page, or a single paragraph) is for making it exist. The second draft is for making it functional. The third draft is for making it effective.” (I’m paraphrasing and I don’t remember where that quote came from, I’m sorry.)

-_-

5) If you’re having writers’ block on in coming up with new ideas, here are some things that work for me:

-Write down your daydreams (see above)

-Listen to music. Soundtracks and video game music are great because they’re designed to support a narrative, and to almost tell a story of their own. But, like, any music. I often end up making little “trailers” in my head when I listen to songs I’m currently taken with, and sometimes I’m like “Hey those could be some good elements for an actual story.”

-Look back at old notes for story ideas, if you keep any

-Or, look through any medium you use to save ideas - playlists, pinterest boards, art, whatever.

-Consume other content. I know that’s old advice that literally everyone gives, but hey, it works. You’re great and your brain is great, but you are not a closed ecosystem. You can’t just keep creating, growing, thriving all on your own without taking in and integrating other people’s ideas. Read something. Watch something. Read fanfic, see what the fandom’s up to. Reintroduce yourself to an old favorite with new eyes, or seek out something you’ve never seen before. Watch one of those old classic black and white movies that you never got around to watching. Read a book in a genre you don’t usually read. Find a terrible, I mean truly awful show and watch it with someone you can laugh with. Look at art. Ask the people in your life about their passions and their weird little cornerstones of knowledge.

-Give yourself time. Let yourself percolate. Let yourself think.

-Write yourself into an idea. Open up that dreaded blank page, switch to red ink, and just start typing like “Okay so it’s a werewolf story I think but not one of those pulp romances with the Alpha Wolf or whatever shit, I think I like the idea that it’s about the pack dynamic, so like a family story? But maybe the main character is a human. Do they get adopted by the pack for some reason? Why? Maybe they like... saved one of the pups or something. How did the pup end up in danger?” Etc.

6) It’s hard to force your brain to be interested in something it’s not currently interested in. If you’ve been super into sci fi and are all about Star Wars and Firefly right now, but you’ve been meaning to write a gritty crime mystery for like ever... you’re probably gonna have a hard time writing a gritty crime fiction if all your brain wants to think about is spaceships. (Unless you set the gritty crime mystery in a sci-fi setting 👀)

Trying to control your muse is like trying to leash a cat. You’re probably gonna have way greater success (and way more fun) if you just write whatever the hell you wanna write, whether that’s a 300K spy drama or another fake dating AU for your OTP even though you’ve already written two. (I promise you, nobody’s ever gonna get tired of it.)

[jackdawyt]

Following on from Tevinter Night's release, I've taken up the bold task of dissecting EVERYTHING noteworthy that relates to Solas throughout all of the fifteen stories in this spectacular novel, and believe me when I say, we have so much to talk about!

(SOURCES LINKED IN THE VIDEO, OTHERWISE, THIS WOULD BE TOO LONG).

We'll start by exploring what we found out about Solas's Agents & Allies!

Since Trespasser, we've known that Solas has a network of agents working for him behind the curtains. However, in 'The Dread Wolf Take You', we discover the length of Solas’s spies has greatly increased. Many of the Dalish Elves truly believe in Solas's cause and have joined his fight and even the Ancient Elves have been acquired for his schemes.

The Ancient Elves decorate themselves in fine sentinel armour, appear bare-faced with no vallaslin, some of them have Dalish accents like Abelas, while others sound more Ferelden, like Solas. They are very much ferocious and hostile to anyone who will get in the way of Solas’s plan and they also use verbiage like: “The Dread Wolf guide your soul to peace, brother.”

So, what’s their mission? Well, the Elven God’s expanded network of agents are chasing down every single source until they find the red lyrium idol, the idol is somewhat required for Solas's plan of action to bring down the veil. It’s unknown what will happen once he acquires it.  

In ‘Half Up Front’, we witness an Agent of Fen'Harel in the flesh. She is an elf who pretended to be a wealthy human taking control of one of Solas’s schemes. She declared that she “acted freely for The Dread Wolf, to bring back what was once there's, and what must be there's again.”

Her plan was to trick and frame an Altus thief into stealing a (different) powerful and dangerous artefact that was "integral to Fen'Harel's plans."

The agent was seen wearing an unknown symbol that relates to the Dread Wolf, Solas seems to have built a dress code for his spies. Upon inspection, we now have a way to distinguish Solas's spies if they decide to wear this symbol.  

Irian, the Elven companion in ‘Half Up Front’ calls Solas’s agents - cultists, exclaiming their genocidal plan, and that they tried to recruit her at one point. Showing that not all elves are sympathetic to Solas’s plan, but many of the Dalish are secretly recruited for his scheme.  

This is once more emphasized when the main character, (the Altus Thief) heard rumors that dozens of elves have gone off to heed the call of “some god."

The artefact that Solas's agents were looking for was supposed to be piece of the Black City called "Dumat's Folly."  

However, the artefact that was discovered in 'Half Up Front' was revealed to be ingenue, not the real ‘Dumat’s Folly’. The ingenue device still had power, it would allow a mage to draw magic into the object, store it and when full, it became a bomb which was used to destroy the Qunari Ben-Hassrath's new darvaarad.  

The agent of Fen’Harel; acting on behalf of Solas, tried to create and manipulate a calamity feud between the Qunari Ben-Hassrath and Tevinter kinsman, if each party had discovered that an Altus thief attacked Qunari lands using this bomb, it would cause immediate chaos for all of Thedas.

Fortunately, that wasn't the case, and when the Agent of Fen'Harel was found out, she had taken a suicide pill and died immediately before further interrogation. The same happened when the Qunari Ben-Hassrath captured another agent of Fen'Harel. Suicide is the only way out when an agent is held captive - the perfect means of keeping Solas's scheme as secret as possible.  

On top of Solas’s agents, he has acquired a spirit/demon army under the guises of the Dread Wolf. They serve him, not bound to his will, but because they want to. In fact, Solas has decreed that if anyone binds a spirit to their own will, or uses blood magic, then your life is his. We’ll touch on this hugely in the next topic.

So, not only does Solas have highly strategic agents working in the field for him, but he’s acquired spirts and demons in the Fade, unbound, unlike anything we’ve ever seen before.  

I think the juiciest potatoes we have on Solas’s allies is that while Solas is focussed on destroying the veil, his agents are very much creating havoc for the rest of Thedas, trying to start wars by setting up certain groups, taking over any location where the red lyrium idol was rumoured to be, and immediately killing themselves if ever taken captive.  Not to mention avidly recruiting throughout the elven groups, and the hordes of spirits and demons that will appease his will.  

Solas’s network of agents is expansive, the elves are slippery, manipulative and smart, while the demons are brutal and terrifying. They will make for some worthy adversaries when we come across them in the next game.  

Moving forward in our investigations. Since we talked about Solas’s allies, let’s delve into the rivals of Solas that became apparent throughout Tevinter Nights, the factions that may be on our new protagonists' side of the battle, come Dragon Age 4. We’ll start with the Qunari.  

Since Tresspasser, The Ben-Hassrath have followed suite to Solas’s plans, and now they know the most about Solas's movements across Thedas, according to Charter. This means they are a huge rival against the Dread Wolf, as they continually disturb and intrude on the plans Solas has.

We have discovered throughout Tevinter Nights that the Qunari are currently divided, the Antaam are invading the south, forcing countries under the Qun’s government, whereas the Ben-Hassrath are fully focused on Solas’s efforts, and stopping him.  

Gatt, one of the quote: ‘leaders’ of the Ben-Hassrath shared that the Ben-Hassrath are currently a neutral party in Thedas’ war effort, even as their brethren Antaam invade Tevinter and Antiva.

Whereas The Ben-Hassrath are on the case with tracking down Fen’Harel, the Antaam peruse invading. However, the Antaam still are very much interested in chasing after Solas. In ‘Genitivi Dies In The End’, an Antaam female share their interest in discovering Solas’s true name.

They believe that with Solas “true name” they could exploit his weaknesses and defeat him.  

So, the Qunari as an entity are very much hostile towards Solas. And as you’d expect, Solas has made himself aware of the Qunari threat, regarding their current invasion. In ‘The Dread Wolf Take You’ disguised as a Bard, Solas stated that the Antamm will crush and capitalise over everything east of Vryantium, and northern Antiva as well.

Solas is very much aware of the Qunari forces and their hostile intentions. Which makes them a worthy ally for our next protagonist without a doubt. Question is, will they play nice?  

We’ll move on to the next rivals of Fen’Harel - The Mortalitasi and Tevinter.

I’ve bundled these two factions together because they’ve both targeted by Solas particularly. As I mentioned before, Solas has decreed that if anyone binds a spirit to their own will, or uses blood magic, then your life is his.  

When the Mortalitasi bind spirits in the Grand Necropolis, and Tevinter mages use blood mage, according to the Mortalitasi mage in ‘The Dread Wolf Take You’, this undoes the work that Solas has planned for the Fade, and the ritual that has been set in motion. Therefore, he has made himself clear to both groups that this magic will not be tolerated anymore.

From what we can understand, perhaps both types of this magic are what need more of - to attempt to stop Solas’s ritual in the Fade. Meaning that Tevinter and Neverra are going to be worthwhile allies, so, having either of them on our side could force the victory we seek against Solas.

Whereas Nevarra’s Motalitasi has been outlawed as a whole by the Dread Wolf. All of Tevinter’s lands used to belong to the Elvhen, Solas’s plan will bring a redemption of the elves, restoring which was once there's, henceforth, Tevinter’s territory is theirs for the taking! If anything, the people of Tevinter are the ones who are in the most danger unless they join the fight against the Dread Wolf. So, that’s their incentive to help our next protagonist.  

Not to mention, the Tevinter Siccari are the Imperium’s best network of spies. strong and formidable, surely, they too would make for worthy allies in the Imperium.

Moving on, one of the most enigmatic rivals of Solas that was pointed out in Tevinter Nights are ‘The Executors’, although we still don’t know much else about them, we gain an understanding that they mutually seek a demise to Solas and his plan.  

What’s most interesting about this shady organisation, is that before the Executor in ‘The Dread Wolf Take You’ could speak and share their knowledge on Solas’s movements, in disguise, Solas silenced the Executor and killed them when the group was arguing. Solas sees them as a threat to his plan, either they know something that can rival him, or equal his power, or some other intriguing factor that Solas finds intimidating. Out of every agent in a major faction of Thedas, Solas only killed the Executor, which is most mysterious.

Ironically, Solas goes on to say that the Executors’ are dangerous. And that Charter should proceed with caution when dealing with them.  

So, there’s definitely something more to the Executor’s that Solas truly fears, or sees as a threat. In my opinion, this makes the Executors the most crucial ally to be had in defeating the Dread Wolf. If they even want to ally and work with us - that’s going to be a good question going forward.

Following on from the Executors, let’s shuffle to the last, but certainly not least rival that awaits Solas based on Tevinter Nights, and that is, of course, the Inquisition. (or what’s left of it). Since Trespasser, we know that no matter what the Inquisitor chose in the end - remnants of the Inquisition still remain to pursue and catch any scent of Solas.  

This small group of spies has been specifically tailored towards the plot of Dragon Age 4, this explains why in ‘The Dread Wolf Take You’ Charter is taking the charge, seeing to all matters that concern the Dread Wolf, hence she’s gathered all of Thedas’ best spies to delegate the Wolf’s ongoing plan. The Inquisition is still heavily involved in chasing after Solas, even if the Inquisitor isn’t present at the moment.  

And judging Charter’s actions, we know that the Inquisition are sharing and gathering as much knowledge on Solas as possible with other factions in Thedas. Connecting bridges and making allies for the war to come.  

Charter mentions Vaea, Ser Aaron and other Inquisition agents that are behind the scenes in the comic books working to find the idol. Showing that their network of spies has grown, and continues to grow.

Vaea and Ser Aaron were also mentioned in the story ‘Herold Had The Plan’. In which Vaea spoke on working with a renowned Lord of Fortune, and her journey to Tevinter. As we know, working on behalf of the Inquisition.

And at the end of ‘The Dread Wolf Take You’, Charter nods to the fact that the Inquisition still runs on the motive of what the Inquisitor decided they’d do with Solas in Trespasser, whether that be to attempt to redeem Solas or stop Solas.

In Genetivi Dies In The End, Remnants of the Inquisition send 3 writers on an expedition in the north of the Silent Plains, to find the history of the elven pantheon. They uncover Elven tomes in an elven Library beneath the Imperium, sending their research to the generals of the Inquisition. Their findings are sent to Varric Tethras.  

Finally, in ‘Luck In The Garden’, Dorian and Maevaris Tilani are making waves in Tevinter, located in Minrathous, they both helped severely in defeating an evil, ancient monster in the sewers of the city. Dorian even managed to hire employed servants instead of having slaves, so he’s certainly doing well, and endorses the Inquisition.  

It’s been made very clear throughout Tevinter Nights that there’s still plenty of Inquisition involvement going forward. I still hope we can witness the Inquisitor in the flesh one day, but we’ll hopefully see soon enough. It is awesome to see how many factions truly oppose the Dread Wolf, going forward, it’s going to be a matter of - can we actually build enough influence and defuse enough situations to have many of these factions work together to defeat an ultimate evil? I’m optimistic.  

With that, we’ve touched upon Solas’s allies, and those who would not see him succeed, let’s look at what Tevinter Nights showed us about the character of Solas, and how he’s changed since the last time we saw him.  

Firstly, Solas can now kill people while they sleep, even dwarves. We discovered in Trespasser; he can freeze multiple people at the same time. But now we know he can freeze Executors (whatever they are) and even golems, who’re already stone!  

Solas lies! A lot in his fake bard tale. It’s hard to tell what’s true and what is not. I personally believe that the Bard’s tale spun by Solas was a complete ruse, with only a few aspects of the truth that I’ll touch on.  

The table was booked under the name ‘Gauche’. Which is an Orlesian name, the fake name that Solas had taken for his disguise.  

It’s safe to say that Solas is desperate going forward, I mean come on, he’s dressed as an Orlesian Bard with a blonde wig, jewellery, rings, the whole shebang, and he’s mimicking an Orlesian accent.  I suppose desperate times call for desperate measures. Anyhow.  

Under his ruse, he shared witnessing prominent faces throughout all of the Dragon Age games, like Isabella, Amund the Avvar, Sebastian, Tallis, The Divine, and a most intriguing Warden Commander. Whether he met them or not, doesn’t matter, I feel that all Solas is doing here, is proving to Charter that he knows about significant characters in the Dragon Age, that he’s made himself aware of each of them as potential threats.

This could mean that not many characters will be returning as companions in the next game, or even cameos, because as we know, the Inquisition is looking for people that Solas doesn’t know, so we can have a chance at defeating him.  

And, thanks to Charter, he knows about the comic book agents who’re looking for the idol in Tevinter, which puts them at a huge risk. Fortunately, none of them were mentioned by name.  

Out of disguise he’s tired and sad, and knows that many oppose him and that they are not fools. Telling the Inquisitor what he intended to do in Trespasser was a moment of weakness.

He admits he’s prideful, hot-headed and foolish. He says to tell the Inquisitor that he’s sorry.

Changing the pace, in ‘Callback’, a Regret Demon finishes the eighth Fresco panel in Skyhold’s Rotunda. The demon was attracted to, and born from the regrets Solas had while he stayed at Skyhold with the Inquisition.  

Originally, the eighth panel was only drafted out by Solas before he left Skyhold, the initial impression of the fresco was that it showed the mighty battle against Corypheus and the victory of the Inquisition. 

However, what the Regret demon reveals is something far more ominous. It appears the Fresco shows an outline of a beast stood over a stabbed dragon; two figures painted on either side of a pane of glass with confused forms. The beast is shown to be a horrifying wolf, having absorbed the dragon’s power, stood crooked over all.  

This, of course, relates directly to Solas having taken Mythal’s power at the end of Inquisition, and rising as the Dread Wolf thanks to Mythal’s sacrifice. This fresco explains the entire end credit scene, and why Solas needed to absorb Mythal’s essence. As we know, just before Solas took her power, Mythal placed a piece of herself (or an Old God) into an eluvian for safekeeping. So, perhaps she isn’t truly gone.  

Regardless, that explains how the Dread Wolf has risen since Inquisition’s events, he is truly a haunting and terrible creature.  

In his Dread Wolf form, Solas can speak, quite frighteningly. A lingering question I have is, does his mouth actually move as he articulates as a Wolf? Or is it more like his voice is a presence like Mono in Princes Mononoke?

The Dread Wolf has taken residence in the Fade where spirits and demons serve him willingly. He has a ritual for the Fade that has been set in motion, however, he requires the red lyrium idol to continue this ritual further, plus surpluses of lyrium in order for it to work.

The red lyrium idol is still quite the mystery today. However, we do learn a few things about the idol in ‘The Dread Wolf Take You’ that may help us understand it more.

Most people, (like you and me) believed that the red lyrium idol was forged it into Meredith’s massive sword, and so, when Meredith went crazy with power and almost destroyed all of Kirkwall, her sword exploded, and so did the idol with it. At least, that’s what we thought, however, that’s not the case.

According to the Carta Dwarf, a Dalish Elf came to Kirkwall asking for help in retrieving the idol, he claimed that he ‘”learned of this in a dream and that an old legend of his people says that the idol is in Meredith’s body and that if he gets it out, he can free his gods or something like that.”

Before Kirkwall’s Carta Dwarves could silence the elf for good, he pulled out a potion and said it would soften the raw lyrium, so they could retrieve the idol safely.

Using the potion, they retrieved the idol from Meredith's chest. The Carta Dwarves killed the Dalish Elf, and then proceeded to sell the idol to Tevinter contract by the name of ‘House Qintara.’  

An agent of Fen’Harel impersonating the head of House Qintara, traded the red lyrium idol to House Danarius for information. This was not something Solas would have approved of, the agent was later killed by the Qunari invasion on the city. This was discovered in Dragon Age: Deception.  

A mage from House Danarius made their way to Nevvara's Grand Necropolis with the red lyrium idol for an ultimate ritual to push the Qunari forces back north. Using blood magic, bound spirits and the red lyrium idol, the Mortalitasi and Tevinter mage attempted the ritual, upon impact of the red lyium idol, it revealed a ritual blade.  

The ritual (accidentally) summoned the Dread Wolf’s attention, as he killed the Tevinter mage and ordered his demons to attack the Grand Necropolis. A noble’s son grabbed the red lyrium idol, with its ritual blade either shattered or retracted and ran off into Tevinter.  

I personally believe that Solas lied about the idol’s whereabouts, and everything he said in his bard’s tale, therefore I think he actually doesn’t have the idol and is still looking for it, that’s one of the reasons he came to the meeting in the first place – to have a better understanding where the idol went since Nevarra.  

That means that the red lyrium idol is still somewhere in Tevinter with this noble’s son and it’s yet to be discovered by Solas. So, perhaps the Inquisition, or any other opposing force may have a chance to grab the idol before Solas does. 

And that puts an end to everything I discovered regarding Solas throughout Tevinter Nights. Thank you for sticking through this for so long, I really do appreciate it. In summary, Tevinter Nights has sparked so much for the future of the next Dragon Age game, as you can tell, we have more of an idea of where the plot is going next. I feel ‘The Dread Wolf Take You’ acts as a small prologue for Dragon Age 4, as it opens up the next narrative in so many ways as discussed throughout this video. Of course, I have just started the Tevinter Nights content, we’ve got plenty more videos to go!  

Be sure to let me know if there’s anything I missed that relates to Solas in this novel, tell me your thoughts on Solas’s plan going forward - where do you think the red lyrium idol is, and do you believe that everything Solas said in ‘The Dread Wolf Take You’ was a lie? Let me know down below.  

[iquotation]

"Integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, and knowledge without integrity is dangerous and dreadful."

Samuel Johnson

[philosophors]

“Integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, and knowledge without integrity is dangerous and dreadful.”

— Samuel Johnson

[walkietalkiesmusic]

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[elftwink]

What are your feelings about wtnv condos?

WELL, since you asked: 

for one i think most everything has been said about cecil calling carlos perfect prior to condos and imperfect after it. i agree w/all that, i think its beautiful and it makes me cry and also it’s so cohesive and such a good character development thing BUT like i said, it has been covered so i won’t waffle about that. but i will waffle about the way that perfection is presented in and of itself and how that presentation is tied to night vale’s larger themes. namely, this line:

“I understood that the cubes are perfect! I understood that this is how we become perfect. I understood that what I was seeing was the way to perfection. And I don’t know how I understood this. Thinking about it now, nothing about it seems good, let alone perfect.” [bolding mine]

night vale is far from the only media around that covers the idea that perfection is a myth that people spend their whole lives chasing. i think what it does that works so well is that it never portrays perfection as completely unattainable— in fact, the plot of the episode hinges on the fact that the character can access a perfect existence— but rather as alien. so far removed from a real human experience that looking at it from an outsider perspective, as cecil does after the weather is over in that line, makes it very nearly incomprehensible. 

and moreover, the people who are “perfect” within the context of the episode are not, in any tangible or understandable way, “better” than they were before— which, as far as my personal media consumption goes, is a fairly novel twist. off the top of my head i can think of several stories or plot points that revolve around a protagonist being offered a perfect existence and refusing. basically any media that involves omnipotent beings will have a plotline like this or similar and stories about human beings refusing like, divinity or power or wealth or skill or whatever it might be are kind of a staple of like, every genre. HOWEVER the idea tends to be that they have something to gain from that; power or wealth or status or knowledge or something, something that might be massive and that they could never hope to achieve or accrue on their own.

the condos offer no understandable improvement. they don’t even offer the promise of improvement. the demonstrations of perfection and the examples we are given as an audience are not glorious or grandiose but foreign and terrifying, something that the characters openly admit. 

“Janice Rio (from down the street) saw a city. A lost city. A dead city, nestled in a jungle – the kind of jungle that only ever existed in books written by people who have never seen a jungle. The city stood, and Janice stood, in perfect dread, its doors were open jaws. Its windows were open jaws. Its roads and avenues were gaping mouths and open jaws. That dead city teetered. It rotted in its jungle tomb, but…it was not empty. And she started to run. Run through the thick foliage of that absurd place, she shouted and ran.”

“Roger Singh (who had been able to buy a condo with the spine) saw a cave, underwater, in an ocean far to the north. And the water around him was dark – so dark! – that he wasn’t sure even which way led to the surface, to life…and which way led down only to the deep silent. He gasped, but found he had no breath…and no need to breathe. And there was this cave that smoldered with a light, a light that was charged and alive. And shadows moved against the light, cast by…what?…within the cave. And then he swam towards it, uncertain whether he was guest, or sacrifice, or invulnerable dreamer. And he heard a song from the cave, and he knew it, and it was perfect. And he sang along, but at the same time, he had never heard that song before in his life. And what was life? What made it his? It all seemed so small, part of the world that didn’t exist anymore.” 

and like, to some extent, so what, right? who cares if perfection is seen as desirable vs unknowable? what difference does it make? well, i will tell you/theorize about it abstractly. i find that this framing of perfection makes it much much clearer that wtnv intends imperfection to be celebrated rather than tolerated. 

the order of events is not imperfection is human -> being human is good -> imperfection is good, but rather, imperfection is good -> humans are imperfect - > being human is good. cecil says pretty much this when he says: “And those imperfections in our reality are the seams and the cracks into which our out-sized love can seep and pool. And sometimes we are annoyed, and disappointed, and that too is a part of how love works. It is not a perfect system, but… Oh, well.”

and i mean, even in and of itself that’s a deeply moving thing to say. this post could end here with me saying that night vale’s framing of imperfection as not just necessary but integral to experiencing life in a way that is worthwhile makes for an incredibly powerful story. 

but condos is part of a larger story. and i’ve talked about parade day & old oak doors before, and briefly mentioned all right in that post. one of the most oft quoted night vale bits is the candle wax spiel from a memory of europe (the “time is like wax” speech). with these, and with countless other moments across the show, over and over again, wtnv is about the value of right now. of action. of effort. of choice.

what actually sets night vale perfection apart is that above all else, perfection is stagnant. the people in the condos float motionless and frozen. fading away. even when cecil says that they are able to be contacted, the action is still taken by the people left behind, imperfect: “Walking through where the condos once stood, you can hear their voices — but distantly, faintly. And if you reach out when you hear that voice, if you reach out and feel for them, you too will get a vision of some far-off place, a place that is, in its own way, in a way perhaps that can never be explained, perfect.” these people no longer do anything. they no longer live, even though they are presumably alive, in their own perfect way. the reason the condos offer no improvement is that improvement is growth, it’s movement, it’s action. improvement and perfection are antonyms. you improve for the sake of improvement, for betterment, rather than to attain perfection.

when cecil escapes from the condos, he does so through resistance, through fighting, through choosing imperfection actively. throughout the show, things happen because people try. they do. they live and they grow and they change and they discover and they fucking try. and when they don’t it’s to make a point about inaction, to show you that being static is easy and nice but that even in the face of all that, it’s important to try. and you try knowing you could fail. and you try knowing the odds are stacked, knowing that the world is chaotic and things don’t always happen for a reason. you try if it doesn’t personally affect you. you try if you have never tried before or if you couldn’t or didn’t last time. 

i promise i’m almost done but i couldn’t mention all that without saying something about how community is tied up so tight with those values that you can’t tear them apart. the way in which things happen is rarely because cecil does something on his own but because the town does something, together. relationships are built on communication and effort and trying, from one-on-one to city wide. the entire show is fundamentally built on balancing your inclusion in the community of night vale with your independence and ability (& sometimes duty) to act as a single person. you can stand alone, and if you must, you should, but you shouldn’t have to. and hopefully you don’t have to. 

disclaimer that i’m way behind on wtnv so i could be contradicted by more recent episodes and also this isn’t nearly long enough to really get Into It(tm) and also the wtnv has covered such a variety of topics that it’s very hard to make generalizations like this, but even so, i hope i’ve done it justice. also shoutout to cecilspeaks for all the quotes, here’s the full transcript for condos if anyone wants/needs it

anyway, on a final note, i think cecil really says it best so:

“A perfect place that you will never visit. And that is the best news of all. Listeners, I send you now back out into the night. And it’s dangerous out there, and it’s lonely, and it’s not perfect.

Goodnight, all of you here, goodnight, all of you listeners, and goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight.”

[daxthinksnot]

Meet my character, Lucius! Here’s his info:

L U C I U S

The Eyes and Ears of Hell // Bartender

“If you’re going to slaughter each other, do it outside.”  

◣◥▔▔▔▔▔✚▔▔▔▔▔◤◢

𝐓𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

1/ ⌈𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡⌋                    4/  ⌈𝘼𝙩𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙗𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙨 ⌋

2/ ⌈𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮⌋               5/ ⌈𝙍𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥𝙨⌋

3/ ⌈𝘽𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮⌋                6/ ⌈𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙖⌋

◤◢ ▁▁▁▁▁✚▁▁▁▁▁◣◥

⌈𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡⌋

►Theme:

Mighty Sam McClain - When The Hurt Is Over

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4YPMiFaPWo

►Name:

Lucius Kirell

►Gender:

Male

►Sexuality:

Straight

►Age:

5129 (Appears to be in his early 50s)

►Race

High Imp Variant (Hell-born)

►Alignment

True Neutral (was chaotic neutral in his early days)

►Height

191cm (6'3")

►Body Type

Muscular

►Blood Type

AB

►Location

Afterlife Bar

Not much is known about the infamous Lucius; the bartender at Afterlife, the bar which he owns. Often described possessing rapier wit and eyes that would make even a succubus shudder, the man usually keeps to himself; well, at least on the outside. In reality, Lucius is a major player in the black market information industry and unlike most, he knows what he’s talking about.

◣◥━━━━ ✚ ━━━━◣◥

⌈𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮⌋

►Sarcastic

►Humorous

►Witty

►Tricky

►Dangerous

►Fatherly

►Cool and Calm

►Narcissistic

►Malicious

►Loveless

►Melancholy

Over his decently long life, Lucius has come to the conclusion that everyone just needs to calm down. Whilst he finds himself in quite the stressful environment for a man of his age; that of information broking, he is quite the calm and level headed man and this has actually made him quite famously trustworthy. He keeps his secrets and seems to know everything about everyone; perhaps this is why he’s never paranoid. He treats all of his employees with respect and like his children, though this is likely because of what had happened to his old family. He is by far not the most powerful of demons, but he is without a doubt one of the smartest. He possesses the uncanny ability to manipulate almost anyone.

◣◥━━━━ ✚ ━━━━◣◥

⌈𝘽𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮⌋

Lucius, unlike most Imps, isn’t cocky in his trickery, and such a trait made him a careful and successful child thief. He grew up amongst the poorest of the poor and found coin in the art of thievery; both in physical items and knowledge. He never knew his father, but had a very close relationship with his mother and siblings and learnt quick the value of family.

As he aged he joined countless gangs and cartels but found himself feeling out of place or even bored at times. He started to become more and more neutral until he decided to form his own group of information brokers called “POMP”; derived from the Psychopomp creatures which neutrally guided humans through the afterlife. After the creation of this small group, he started to build his infamy and after 500 long years, he became well known for his knowledge. At this stage in his life, he began to become cocky with his position and sought out fame and power over everything else. He truly was a vile man, but he was dependable and got results, and that’s what counted. Somehow during this time, he managed to catch the eye of a Fae called Tittelle; a beautiful kind woman who fell deeply in love with him. He too loved her and she in return gifted him twin daughters, but it seemed that his love for power far outlived that of his family. One dangerous exchange of words occurred deep into a dreadful summers night, where Lucius found himself bewitched by the idea of indefinite allegiance. He sold out his closest ally; a powerful demon mage, and in exchange gained the favour of the second most powerful demon of hell at the time. But this betrayal cut deeper than expected for his lost ally, and that mage sought revenge in the most primal sense. That very night the mage took Lucius’s family; tortured, Raped and killed them. He gifted their torn bodies on pikes at his doorstep the morning after. Even now that scene haunts him, and truly he cannot conceive of the notion of love again. He saw what his gluttony had wrought and from that day onward he became a neutral melancholy existence.

Several hundred years later he decided to open up his bar Afterlife, as a way to settle down and ground himself, as well as creating a headquarters for POMP. Whilst he is quite a powerful man, he restricts himself and refuses to dive in too deep as he doesn’t want to risk anyone ever again. He is perhaps too overprotective of his employees, but in some ways that add to his charm.

If his information business ever fails, at least he has his bar— which is the most popular bar in all of Abaddon.

◣◥━━━━ ✚ ━━━━◣◥

⌈𝘼𝙩𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙗𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙨 ⌋

►C H A R A C T E R

Charisma

■■■■■■■■■■

Kindness

■■■■■□□□□□

Temper

■■■□□□□□□□

Integrity

■■■□□□□□□□

Courage

■■■■■■■■□□

Humor

■■■■■■■■■□

► B A T T L E

Attack

■■■■■■■■□□

Defence

■■■■■■■□□□

Magic

■■■■■■■□□□

Resistance

■■■■■□□□□□

Speed

■■■■■□□□□□

Stamina

■■■■□□□□□□

► T R A I T S

Boredom

■■■■■□□□□□

Confidence

■■■■■■■■■□

Intelligence

■■■■■■■■■■

Manners

■■■■□□□□□□

Optimism

■■□□□□□□□□

Luck

■■■■■■■■□□

◣◥━━━━ ✚ ━━━━◣◥

⌈𝙍𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥𝙨⌋

►To his employees:

Lucius is without a doubt a fatherly figure to his employees. Due to his old age, he is seen as a beacon of wisdom and wit, though some do see him as a little dusty. Others somewhat worship him as to live to his age is rather impressive; especially in hell of all places. He is well respected and deeply cared for— even if he doesn’t know it.

►To clients:

Lucius is a genuinely terrifying guy. Clients often communicate to him through middlemen; that is unless they are more powerful, as with long age comes power. Whilst Lucius is a good host and a chill guy, to new clients it’s like staring into the eyes of a dragon of rage.

◣◥━━━━ ✚ ━━━━◣◥

⌈𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙖⌋

►Lucius hates anything sweet. He cannot stomach sugar at all to the point where simply being around sweet things makes him want to be sick. This likely has to do with an incident 2000 years ago when under some odd circumstances he had to partake in a cake eating contest. He won, but he was forever changed.

►Hidden under Lucius’s bed is a hand made teddy bear his eldest sister made for him when he was little. It is his most prized possession.

►One time Lucius managed to talk himself out of being slain by convincing his attacker that killing him would be a crime as he is too attractive to die. He proved his point by stripping— it worked.

►Lucius’s favourite food is grilled steak and mash potatoes.

◣◥━━━━ ✚ ━━━━◣◥

[valasania-the-pale]

A Healer’s Dilemma Ch. 2

Author: Valasania the Pale

Rating: K

Words: 2560~

Pairing: Mipha/Zelda/Link

Notes: Takes place after the last memory, shortly after Memory #9. Enjoy!

She had known this feeling before.

A curling dread, like a clammy stone within her gut, or a chill fog drawing a curtain over her field of view. A winter’s day without the sun. A bitten evening without a moon. A specter hung over her – over them all – robbing them of the warmth of companionship.

Apprehension was cold, Mipha mused to herself.  

She’d tasted it at funerals – her mother’s foremost in her memory, long ago though it had been. Muzu’s kindly wife Laruta, whose passing brought an end to the old teacher’s joy. The Hylian Queen’s – whose death seemed to draw a veil over all of Hyrule and snuffed the light from the King’s eyes.

She’d felt it too the day Link left the Domain for the final time – she’d known, even then, that their goodbye then was not to be for forever, but did mark the end of something precious. Something she’d miss.

She’d felt it again when she learned that Link had been the one to draw forth the Master Sword.

Another page turned in the story of their lives; another chapter in the life of the boy she once knew, left behind to make room for the man he’d become.

She’d felt these things. Known them. Thought she’d become, if not comfortable, then capable enough in her experience to handle them.  

Evidently not.

Could these things be measured in sighs and tears? Her three decades were considerable and brimming with memory – with weight – yet they were a whisper of life to people like her father, who’d seen centuries pass by before his wizened eyes.

She’d heard his sighs – memories of forgotten days leaving his breast on a gentle exhalation. She’d wiped away his tears, wrapped in his embrace, the liquid pearls warm against her scales.

Those things weren’t wholly bad, at least. In them, she’d come to understand a different kind of healing. Her father was brighter when she asked for stories of times he seldom reminisced of, even when they led down darkened roads. The same worked for Muzu, though his pain was a wound closer to the soul than merely the heart. He was an oyster, clutching tightly to his love, but once opened had a luster she knew few knew, and few would ever know again.

Mipha was, at heart, a healer. Knowledge of this sort was vital to her as water and air and food. Applying this to herself, though, rather than others, was new.

The cold in her chest could not be measured by the sigh of the gentle breeze that caressed her scales, nor did the flickering flame bring her any comprehension of the darkness festering in the hearts of her companions. A wound festered in their camp that night, torn open anew by the goddess’ silence.

It was a wound she could not heal by conventional means, nor with her magic. It was not grief, either. Not pain. Not memory. Mipha was a miracle worker, but even she had not the power to make the goddess Hylia speak when she would not deign to of her own accord.

But that was but one side of the injury done to her companions – an intuition born of a lifetime of empathy told her that the silence of the goddess was not the only thing plaguing their camp, though it was the heaviest stormcloud hanging above their heads.

The nature of this unknown factor, however, she could not divine.

That, in itself, was a blow. She was a healer, yet she could not find the wound. There was no pain. No sigh. No tears. Just darkness, and cold.

The energy from before was tightening again into its coil. The energy made her restless. Her arms worked. The lean muscle from decades mastering the spear she’d built refused to burn like she wanted – preparing the fish that would compliment their meal was simply insufficient to challenge their endurance.

The flaking scales of their meal were sticky in her hands.

For all the life their little camp showed, with Link preparing the evening meal and Zelda adding dry kindling to the fire and Mipha scaling the fish, the knight and his princess could have been mute statues for all the emotion they displayed, and Mipha had no answers.

She watched them anyways.

Link, she knew, and her eyes ran over him, for once without the flush of something that usually thrummed through her blood. This was not her admiring him, this was examination. Analysis.

Of all the people of Hyrule, including his closest friends, confidants, and kin, Mipha suspected only she would have noticed the inconsistencies in his behavior she immediately picked up. There was pride in that – pleasure, even – but it was a distant thing in her mind, secondary to her search.

Link moved with grace while he cooked. Every ingredient was picked from their container with only a cursory check. Where he paused, it was always to pick between two excellent options – a choice of spice, or garnish, for example. His eyes were raptor-like; his hands, though calloused and hard, were careful and delicate where necessary. A master of the blade already, Link was possibly an equal in the culinary arts.

At least as far as flavor could go. Mipha suspected the delicate masterpieces turned out by the Castle’s kitchens were beyond him, but they had the benefit of an array of ingredients, facilities, and hands to work with. Where they had those advantages to bolster their undeniable skill, Link could make a feast out of what he foraged during the day that would fill the belly and delight the tongue.

This she knew. That was her friend, the selfsame man who’d been her companion through their childhoods.

For all his efficiency though, that night, Link’s culinary skill could not mask the edge he exuded.

It was a ragged, angry presence too faint to be real, but existed in the small things he did that no-one else would notice, had they not her experience.

His face was a hard façade. His features, for all their expression, could have been carven. But Link was not a statue.

He enjoyed cooking – it was the one, uncontroversial, indisputable part of him that he had never hidden. More than he loved the act of cooking, Link loved to eat. Big meals, small meals. Meals in the castle, meals on the road, meals while swimming (and she’d had to scold him many times for doing that) and meals while riding on horseback. If he wasn’t carrying a shield, he might even have snacked during a battle – had he faced an opponent skilled enough to last so long.

This night, the greens were chopped with the same intensity of expression he reserved for moblins. The rice was drowned in water and the bowl set on the flames without the slightest hint of hesitation. His feet were so silent – so controlled – that they’d have seen him through a Yiga fortress unscathed.

The silence itself, so integral to Link, was unnerving.

He hummed while he cooked. Unconsciously. Whatever earworm was in his brain at the time. As children, Mipha thought it was adorable, and with the other Zora filled his ears with as many songs and whimsical rhymes as they could concoct, as often as they could manage, and try to catch him in the act. The embarrassment would drive him to distraction.

But now, he did not. He did not hum. His mind did not wander; his was a laser-focus, a fixation. Mipha did not think it was wrapped up in the finer points of preparing their meal.

Silence, stillness, control. They were a keen edge. Or a ragged edge. Or a bludgeon. Any blade – any weapon suited Link when he was fighting. It was what made him dangerous.

It was not what made him a good cook. They were both a part of him, certainly, and both parts that Mipha admired, but their crossing was a symptom as clear as a red blossom beneath a bandage.

But it was just a symptom, however concerning, and did nothing to enlighten her further to the real problem. She knew how to fix it – engage him, pull his mind far away from whatever dark road it stalked; that was well within her power, and would probably restore to him some of the carefully hidden levity she knew he had in him.

She did not – her curiosity and her concern burned too hotly. She had to know more. She had to, if she wanted to help him. Them.

To her silent frustration though, he was closed to her beyond that. Observation would only get her so far.

She looked to the other princess of their party.

Zelda was harder to understand. Mipha had known her for nearly as long as she had Link, but it had always been in an official capacity. Princess to princess, or when they had time away from court, healer to scholar.

Reading her like she could Link was beyond her. Her first glimpse of the person, the girl Zelda, had been in the Spring. Zelda’s only knowledge of her was her touch, and whatever she’d seen in Mipha’s eyes before shame turned her face earthward.

Who are you, Zelda? Let me in. Let me see. Let me help you.

So Mipha watched her for some hint, some sign, some symptom she could examine – assess – and perhaps remedy.

On her face, Zelda bore the expression of a monarch. A brooding monarch, perhaps, but it was an unreadable expression nonetheless, and that was the wall that halted Mipha’s probe. In one hand she held the fire-stick, which she used to prod the small campfire on the occasion that some kindling fell away or the flames began to gutter. Unlike Link’s unnatural precision, she handled it as she had every other night. Haphazardly, distracted. It was something to do. Something to occupy the body while the mind wandered.

Where, Mipha wondered.

Zelda’s eyes were shrouded. Mipha knew an incontrovertibly sharp mind dwelled behind them. That even now it must be flying, furious, inexhaustible, harried.

But that was not a clue, not a hint; that was obvious to any who knew her. None could becalm the waters of the mind within a storm of its own making – not without a force greater, a balm more potent than the hurt driving it. And Mipha doubted a force sufficient to still the mind of the princess of Hyrule existed upon the face of the land.

Her shoulders were tight, Mipha noted, just so. A touch might cause them to stiffen, then relax.

Her brow was furrowed, just so. A touch might cause her to reel, then soften.

Her back was hunched, just so, as though the weight of the world lay upon her. A touch might cause her to straighten, then melt.

Just so.

But those things were physical, and while they told a story that Mipha might work to bring a happier ending, it would be mistaking symptoms for the source to take them as the whole story.

A darkness hung about her, where light should have been. An edge. A ragged edge. One less violent, less cutting, less bestial than the kind that hung about Link, but an edge nonetheless. The frustration that hung around her emanated in waves – lapping at the edge of the subconscious at first, too slight to note, but growing in ferocity.

They drew back. Returned. Fiercer. Her fingers flexed. Again. More powerful. Angry. The coil in her jawline tightened. A tsunami.

And as Link crossed their little campsite to take the fish from Mipha – her preparations finished without her conscious attention on her hands – Zelda’s eyes flickered toward them, and the tension left her in a whoosh.

Her eyes shut, and the edge fell away.

A second, suspended in eternity, where without the mask Mipha saw.

Zelda sighed, and in that sigh was contained the weight of a father’s failed expectations and the loneliness of one abandoned by the gods.

In that sigh was contained a thousand raging accusations. Countless haunted nights without peaceful slumber. A young woman’s fledgling experience. A girl’s self-doubt. Tears unnumbered.

In that sigh was a storm. A war of failure and pride and shame and defiance. A lens, through which her soul was visible.

In that sigh was a temporary release, and for a moment the moonlight that fell upon her, and the flames the illuminated her, and the peace the suffused her, made her gleam like a goddess.

Link watched them both, paused by the fireside, eyes glittering like fireflies.

Zelda’s eyes opened, and Mipha was transfixed.

“I will try again tomorrow,” Zelda said. Her eyes were coals, reflecting flames in the green of her irises, and in them Mipha saw an inner fire that would not be doused. An ember, or perhaps a cinder of the woman – the queen – she would be one day.

In them Mipha saw the shadow of the girl behind the sovereign’s mask she put on each morn; one who had shed tears unnumbered. One who had shouldered her own self doubt and inexperience and the impossible expectations of countless others ignorant to her struggle.

One who’d faced her silent goddess time and again, and who kneeled to beseech her anew each day without fail.

Her eyes were coals.

In them were intermixed shadow and light – the darkness Mipha felt was entwined with light. Perhaps the light was not hope, as it might have been in another time, another place. Perhaps the light was fiercer, defiant; the light of one who would burn and burn until nothing remained – of one who would not fade quietly into the dark.

Perhaps the light was not pure, as would be expected of the incarnation of the goddess. It was not the light of dawn, nor of the radiant sun, the twinkling stars, or the serene moon.

But the light was the same light she saw in Link. The darkness within, the same.

In that moment, Mipha thought she understood Zelda the girl just a little.

And with that understanding, she saw the wound for what it was, and inclined her head in acceptance.

The urge to reach out and hold her – just a touch, even, to let her know she was not alone in her battle – was nigh-impossible to repress. It was the same need she felt for Link – to reach out was to grasp fire, for his was a destiny for conflict.

Of the wounds he would sustain, some she would heal, others would be beyond her. To reach out held the potential to cure the remainder, and the potential to inflict one still greater than the rest.

To reach out to Zelda would be the same. Perhaps her conflict was not one of battle – not yet – but still, some wounds would heal, others would linger. Would fester.

To reach. Or.

Mipha looked down at her hands – red flecked with sticky grey fish scales and grime. Lean muscle. Callouses. The hands of a healer, and a warrior.

Looked within. What might they see, then, in her, if they looked as she had?

Or.

She drew in a breath. Flexed her hands. Remembered the lightning touch, and the warmth, pulling Zelda close, and Link bracketing her in.

Her eyes closed, and she sighed, letting it all flow out.

Or.