#been a little bit since i made a bigger skein | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maryellencarter · 3 years

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So the final cause, if I recall my Aristotle (I was terrible at Aristotelian logic, or at least at what the badly illustrated homeschool textbook said was Aristotelian logic), was that my apartment has been growing irregularly more squalorous for months. Occasionally I would have a bout of energy and put my groceries in the pantry, but for the most part I've been doing well to keep up on the laundry. The proximal cause was... probably the coloring books.

Anyway, this morning I put on pants that were not sweatpants, probably for the first time in months, because going to get vaccinated is a festal occasion and one ought to look one's best. (I put on my cute top with the frilly shoulder straps and the little rosettes, too, since I figured it'd be smart to wear something sleeveless. And my combat boots with the pastel tiedye laces, in case of hiking, which also turned out to be smart. I was decked out.)

So then I went and showed a number of people my ID and my appointment email, and they poked me with a timy needle -- not as small as the one they used in the ER for the insulin that time, I didn't even feel that one, but a very nice thin needle compared to my usual standard of needles, which are the ones they use to try and get blood *out* of you, and often fail when you are me. Then they made me sit down for fifteen minutes in case I took an allergy, and then they gave me a lollipop (I got blue cotton candy, my favorite flavor) and a sticker with a hashtag on it and I left.

Then I got to wend my way back from the place where the vaccinations were happening -- it was a big event on the college campus, since they have a lot of nice big rooms and wide open spaces there -- and it happened I was coming back from a direction I do not usually wend my way from, and I dropped into Michaels. Usually I go to Joann's, because they have fabric, which Michaels doesn't, and Michaels is generally a bit froofier in the sorts of craft supplies they stock at least locally, but the Michaels and the Joann's are right across the street from each other, and I still haven't heard anything about my special order on the floss color that Joann's was out of. Michaels doesn't have the full range of DMC colors, but I took a look and they did in fact have the color I needed.

Then I wandered around some, because Michaels actually does have a bigger yarn selection than Joann's, and I found some Patons Kroy (my absolute favorite sock yarn for feel and texture) in a colorway I didn't loathe, which is *not* something I've been able to find since they stopped making that one colorway with all the orange and black and gray stripes, which I loved dearly and can't remember the name of. So I was like "this will be just the thing for that one lace scarf I was looking at that needs wool yarn in case it has to be blocked to look right", because knitted lace is like that and you can't block acrylic. You can "kill" acrylic but that's different and I'd rather not.

Um. Anyway. Then I wandered around some more, because I get into Michaels so seldom that it's handy to look at what-all they've got while I'm there. Over the past... week or so I have had a sudden bout of wanting to color in coloring books, because that happens to me sometimes; there was an impulse trip to the Walmart way out in the boondocks on the unlit road for Crayola colored pencils, because I decided I was not going to pay eight times as much for Prismacolors.

(The really infuriating thing about coloring books, in my opinion, is that right now you can either find the kiddie newsprint coloring books which are with us always, of course, or you can find "adult coloring books" which are *in-fucking-variably* filled with horses and lions and whales and other large charismatic mammals covered in what look for all the world like quilting patterns. If I wanted to color a rendition of a quilt filled with tiny stripes and polka dots, I'd get some graph paper! And the dots and lines and so forth are so tiny that you can *only* color them with colored pencils, because that's Adulty.)

(Yes, I know they sell coloring pages on Etsy and places. I've been avoiding the print shop for at least a month and a half now, when if I would put the things on my thumb drive and go to it, I could start getting my student loans out of default. I would never wind up printing coloring pages off of Etsy. No, I don't know why. Print shops scare me, perhaps slightly worse than post offices.)

Um. Where was I? So I had gone way far out to the Walmart nobody goes to which therefore often has interesting things in stock, and I had discovered that Crayola still does the glitter crayons I had coveted as a tiny, and they also make double-ended scented markers, which are like the coolest thing ever to the tiny early-nineties child I still am in my heart. So as of this morning, my kitchen counter was completely covered with... things. There was already the sewing machine and the Dr Pepper that doesn't taste like an old shoe, and the peanut butter and the elephant-shaped porcelain wax-warmer, but there had been a narrow slot where I could put a plate and eat my meals -- my only table having been co-opted a year ago by my workstation. Now that slot was filled with various Crayola products and a coloring book with mermaids in it, which at least had a few pages that could be colored partly with markers or crayons, instead of being entirely minced into geometric shapes barely larger than a pencil lead.

SO, what happened after I got vaccinated and found yarn and floss, is that I found out that Crayola still makes the *pearlescent* crayons I coveted even more as a kid. I had gotten one in a little sample pack included with my big 64-box, and it was very precious to me. It's long gone now, of course.

So of course then I bought the pearlescent crayons, and then I bitched at Leia for a while about how I didn't have any coloring books I could use these wonderful crayons *on* unless I wanted to go back to the Lisa Frank newsprint of my youth. (They did actually have Lisa Frank. I strongly considered it. But my tastes have evolved beyond newsprint.)

Then I googled some things, and I found Walmart listing a Crayola mandala coloring book. I went to look for it, and I didn't find it, but I did find a different coloring book with "stained glass" style pictures (sadly not on actual tracing paper, but it occurs to me that if I could source some tracing paper, which it further occurs to me that I haven't seen in years although admittedly I haven't been looking, that I could *trace them* and color them and tape them on my windows like the tacky '90s kid I am), which GLORY HALLELUJAH has spaces big enough to fucking color in!

...Michaels also had neon and metallic Crayola crayons. I might go back. They were 24-packs of each. The single silver and gold crayons from my mom's 64-pack were pretty much only used for Easter eggs in our house, so as not to use them up. I just -- I have a wealth beyond imagining of special effect crayons and markers available to me, and I'm struggling to find anywhere to use them. This seems backwards.

So anyway, then I also found a cute sundress big enough to go over my ass, and then I sat in the furniture section for a while and pondered buying a new table so I wouldn't have to keep stacking coloring books on top of the peanut butter jar in order to eat, and it occurred to me that if I took down my Christmas tree, which I've had up since the Before Times (having gotten it from in fact the same Walmart east of anywhere after all the rest in town were sold out of the particular model), then I would have a space along the back of the kitchen counter where I could hypothetically put a table.

So, because I am a sensible and moderate individual, I bought a thing of string to tie up the Christmas tree branches with, and did not buy a table yet. Then it was time for D&D, so I hurried home and put my vaccination card on the fridge and got into the voice chat and started taking down the Christmas tree.

Then it was five hours later, and I had started konmari-ing the whole apartment in order to have somewhere to store the Christmas tree, and I had discovered that my closet shelf was almost entirely full of empty cardboard boxes, so I had pulled all those out and rifled through them to make sure they didn't contain anything important, and after rescuing three cards from a friend and one glasses chamois, I stuffed most of the boxes in a trash bag, jammed the condensed Christmas tree and all the winter blankets and my air mattress and various other wintry things into the giant box my office chair came in, managed to get that giant box up onto the closet shelf (I have some soreness around my injection site but I honestly don't know if it's a side effect of the vaccination or a pulled muscle from wiggling a very large heavy box into a very tight space over my head), and moved the Goodwill oddities into a midsize box that I think I brought my workstation home in, but they just moved the remaining onsite agents into a much smaller room so I don't think I'm going to be asked to bring my workstation back for a while, and when I do go to bring it back I think the monitors will fit nicely in my washtub.

(I'm giving Goodwill my crockpot. After I forgot the garbanzos in it for three days until the chicken broth started to stink, I decided I am not a person who needs to own a crockpot. Also something like eight skeins of rather ugly yarn because I bought too much for the baby blankets I was making.)

(I'm not sure why I own a washtub. It's bright blue and plastic. It does have a use, which is to hand-wash my weighted blanket in occasionally, as of course you can't put twenty-odd pounds of glass baubles in a washing machine.)

(I certainly did make some life choices that led me here, did I not.)

Annnnyway, so now I have an almost empty three-drawer Rubbermaid dresser, an entirely empty and extremely large Rubbermaid tote (I'm pretty sure I could trap myself in there, but I haven't tried), a mostly empty square ottoman which is also a storage box, and a royal shitton of tiny things like office supplies and party favors that don't *go* anywhere.

"A place for everything" is the really hard part, you know. I achieved it once. Then I moved out of that apartment and have never achieved it again. Once things *have* places, then even if you don't have the spoons to put the peanut butter jar back in the pantry right *now*, you know it has a spot between the Hormel and the Chef Boyardee, and it's way easier than "oh god if I open the pantry there won't be any room and I'll wind up putting the peanut butter under the bathroom sink with the Johnnie Walker Black or maybe over the kitchen sink on top of the Thermacare back wraps."

(You're supposed to store whisky upright in a cool dark place, okay. None of the upper cabinet shelves are tall enough, so I could have put it either directly over the water heater or directly next to the oven. Instead it lurks behind the toilet paper, next to the Clorox wipes and the pre-pandemic Lush bath bomb, which I should... probably use at some point.)

Erm. So then I was pondering what-all storage I would need to source in order to begin having places in which to put things, *findable* places which is the real grail, and -- I think I took a pause to read Dreamwidth and someone linked me a plushie trilobite, okay. I haven't yet entirely decided whether to buy it, but it occurred to me that I definitely have no home for a plushie trilobite, any more than for the amazing Zaeed plushie currently trapped under my cross stitching or the Star Wars Build-a-Bear who was supposed to make Ewok noises until three weeks of freeze-thaw cycle in a malfunctioning package locker did for his electronic squeaker, or the poor American Girl doll languishing inside the ottoman.

So then I was like "we used to have that little net corner hammock for stuffed animals when I was a kid, we never could get it mounted right, but perhaps with fewer cooks that would be a good option". So I googled for one, and all I could find was an assortment of JUMBO five-or-six-foot-long double-deep toy hammocks, obviously necessary to keep your child from drowning in the flood of stuffed animals that have taken over beds in the past thirty years.

(Okay, I was pretty toy-deprived as a kid, the 1980s were not in general what you would call a time of less stuff in American households. Still. I have a twin bed. I can hardly even *find* a toy hammock that wouldn't be bigger than my bed in some dimension.)

So then, it being the aforementioned five hours later with a lot of D&D combined with hard physical labor in the middle, I said to myself, said I, "Hammocks are made out of net, and nets are made out of strings." And by god, if there is one thing I'm better at than another, it is making things out of string. I've never actually gotten around to trying out the whole process of making an actual fisherman's net, which is much more closely related to tatting than to knitting, but I have yarn and most of the possible knitting or crocheting supplies I would need to invent things.

Which, at long last, explains why I have paused to write this halfway through creating a triangular filet crochet toy hammock out of sparkly yellow yarn.

Joann's is having a 50% off sale on plastic storage whatsits tomorrow, but I think I'll probably spend a large part of the day putting office supplies into ziploc bags and hanging them in rows on the wall with pushpins so as to figure out what-all I in fact own.

#i feel like this probably needs at least a few warning tags #but i have no idea what those would be at this point

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xxsparksxx · 4 years

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It’s been a bit of a rocky few weeks here in my corner of the world (my mum’s been in and out of hospital, which takes its toll on both of us!), and I’m conscious that I have two projects and a Wheatfields update to share with you all but…I have not got around to photographing those things yet.

However, I have some other photographs to share, so share I shall 😀

On Wednesday – a beautifully bright and sunny day, perfect for out-of-doors crafting – a Young Friend and I embarked on an experiment in dyeing our own yarn!

I’ve been pondering trying this for some time. I looove hand-dyed yarn, and okay yes, I don’t actually use it a great deal, but I want to use it more, and besides that, playing with colours is fantastic fun.

To start me off on my experiment, I browsed the internet for what I knew would be available – some dye-your-own-yarn kits. I alighted on this one by Knitting Needle Lane because they’re local to me – I didn’t know about them before, but I was delighted to discover them (and delighted to find that they would hand-deliver to my postcode, too!). It contained everything I needed to have a play: acid dyes, citric acid, gloves, instructions, and five 20g mini skeins of undyed yarn.

Acid dyes, I have discovered, means the dye uses acid (plus heat) as a fixative. Thus citric acid (the internet tells me vinegar is also useable, but eurgh, smell!). I’m sure many of you knew this already, but it’s definitely been interesting to google different kinds of dyes and fixatives and methods for ‘setting’ the colour into the yarn (microwave, steamer, hob, etc).

So I asked Young Friend if she’d like to come and have a play with me. She’s the eldest daughter of one of our carers, and she’s been diligently watering the pots in the garden for the last three years or so, in the spring and summer. She’s a creative type, and I thought it would be fun for us both – and, for her, a rather welcome chance to escape from being at home with three siblings! Since we did it in the garden, it was safe enough in terms of coronavirus – we weren’t too close to each other at any point 🙂

She said yes, so at that point I sourced another couple of skeins of yarn – two 100g skeins, so we could each have one of those and two or three mini skeins (I planned to let Young Friend have the third of the five mini skeins, but she let me have it instead). The dye kit said there would be plenty of dye for more than the mini skeins – and indeed I have plenty left over, and am now trying to decide whether to buy more mini skeins or more fullsize skeins to have more dyeing fun with.

Because oh my gosh, it was so much fun 😀

The instruction booklet was really clear and full of tips and advice. I pre-soaked the yarn for at least an hour as instructed, then carefully squeezed out excess water. We made up the dyes – red, blue and yellow – and then I made a green and Young Friend made a purple, and we started playing.

We decided to stick to the same/similar colours for each of our sets of yarn. That way, I reasoned, I could use all the yarn in one project. The colour pooling/striping would be different, but the colours would blend nicely. She wanted purple and pink, and I went for blue and green. We used forks and scoops, dashing colours onto the yarn, making dots and stripes and all sorts of things 😀

For setting the dye, I went with the microwave method, which entailed wrapping the wet, dyed hank of yarn in cling film and microwaving it for a few minutes. I think if/when I do more, I’m going to try an alternative method that I’ve seen somewhere about on the internet – using a glass or plastic microwaveable bowl, and cling-filming over the top (and re-using that cling film multiple times), or even using something like a shower cap to cover it. I just don’t like the idea of using up that much cling film for something like this – it’s environmentally wasteful. We can recycle cling film in our area, but even so.

Then we carefully rinsed it out, as instructed, in cold water, and hung the skeins to dry.

As you can see, we had a little bit of trouble with tangling yarn, but it’s mostly been straightened out now it’s dry, and I’ll be able to untangle fully when I wind it into balls 😀

Once it was dry (several hours outside for the mini skeins, but the big skeins needed some time in the airing cupboard as well), I rewound it into skeins.

The green in my big skein was quite faded – I should have added more dye to the liquid – but I actually like how I’ve got a couple of skeins with very strong green, and then it all fades a bit in the bigger one. I think it’ll look really interesting once it’s worked up. Young Friend was smarter and refreshed her dye colours earlier than I did, and her skeins are just popping with bright colours 😀 I especially love her big skein, where she got a really mottled effect.

I’ve promised to make her something with her yarn (since she doesn’t knit or crochet), so I’ve been looking at shawl patterns that can be worked up with ~600m of yarn. I’ll probably start that next time I need something more straightforward to work on than my Van Gogh freeform, which is taking shape but has been rather tricky recently! And I’ll probably do a shawl with my hand-dyed yarn, as well.

So I will definitely, definitely be doing more yarn dyeing experiments in the future 😀 it was a really fun afternoon, and it was really very easy – the trickiest bit was wrapping wet yarn in cling film!

And I will make sure I take plenty of photographs for you all when I’ve worked up the yarn into finished object 😀

It's been a bit of a rocky few weeks here in my corner of the world (my mum's been in and out of hospital, which takes its toll on both of us!), and I'm conscious that I have two projects and a Wheatfields update to share with you all but...I have not got around to photographing those things yet.

#yarn love

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glow-worm · 5 years

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Close Call - Hurt/Comfort TAZ fic

Taako suddenly collapses on a mission; Lup wears herself out watching him suffer and trying to keep him alive.

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“Pick up the pace, broski, you’re lagging.”

Lup’s voice called back to her brother, though she did not turn to look at him. Taako was, in fact, trailing several feet behind the rest of the group—falling behind even Merle.

“Yeah, yeah,” Taako replied, sounding a little worn out. “I’ll catch up. You guys go.”

“You can’t be tired already,” Magnus called teasingly, far ahead of the others. “We just started.”

“I have a migraine...or something,” Taako answered, a hand covering half of his face.

Their group today consisted of Magnus, Lup, Merle, and Taako. Captain Davenport, Barry, and Lucretia had gone on a separate mission. The crew had received several leads about the potential location of the Light of Creation, and the Hunger was due in about three weeks. So they split the party to investigate two different areas.

This plane was not too different from their own, save for the fact that the inhabitants seemed to only be humans, and was currently in the winter season. The crew wore their red IPRE robes to stay warm in the chilly weather.

They were exploring the depths of a cavern. The twisting tunnels were damp, and lit only by a few torches. Lup, Taako, and Merle had summoned some light to at least help Magnus, though the rest had no problem with their darkvision.

Besides the torches and a few empty wooden crates, the cavern had been empty.

About an hour into their descent, however, Magnus sprung a trap. A few rusty arrows shot out from the cavern wall—they realized after the fact that many of the projectiles were stuck in the mechanism and did not manage to fire—the team for the most part managed to avoid them all. One almost hit Lup’s shoulder, but Taako was able to act quickly enough to just smack it out of the way, coming away with only the smallest of scrapes which he barely even noticed.

“Shitty trap,” Taako had quipped.

“Yeah, shit, guys,” Lup laughed. “How are we gonna solve this cave puzzle?”

“Guess we have to turn back...”

Another hour or so had passed since then, and they hadn’t set off any more traps. Magnus had noticed another set of arrows in the wall, but they seemed to be rusted in place.

“I think this cave might be bigger than we thought,” Magnus called again, so far ahead of the group that the other three could not see him. “Did we bring any snacks?”

Lup scoffed, “Yeah I got a sack full of Luna bars—no. Taako and I can just conjure something up if we need to, but it’s way too early for that.”

“...I’m cool with taking a break,” Taako offered quietly.

“A break from what?” Lup countered. “We haven’t done anything.”

Merle looked over his shoulder to see Taako, then raised an eyebrow and stopped.

Taako’s face was pale, his forehead sprinkled with sweat. His eyes were unfocused and glassy. He had moved to the side of the tunnel, and walked forward slowly with one hand against the cavern wall. Overall, he seemed exhausted.

“You alright there, bud?” Merle asked.

Taako stopped and leaned against the wall.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Fine.”

Merle pursed his lips, unsure. “Hey, Lup—Taako’s not looking so great.”

Now, Lup finally turned around.

She knew immediately that something was wrong. Taako could be over-dramatic sometimes, but this was clearly something beyond laziness. She backtracked, walking quickly toward her brother without further hesitation.

“Magnus,” Lup called. “Come back. We’re taking a break.”

“What?” Magnus’s voice echoed through the tunnel, but no one replied.

Taako took a knee, evidently having a hard time keeping himself up. Merle stood next to him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Taako mumbled. “I don’t know what’s…” He trailed off, cradling his face with one hand.

“Did you get hurt?” Merle questioned, more confused than concerned.

Taako shook his head no in response, but made no attempt to speak or clarify.

Lup reached the two and kneeled down next to her brother, her shoulders raising up tight with anxiety. She looked at him apprehensively as her hands began to fidget.

“Maybe he got the flu,” Merle offered.

“He was fine this morning...you were fine this morning, right Taako?” Lup asked.

He did not answer.

“Should...should you heal him?” Lup asked Merle.

“Heal what?” Merle replied. “I don’t know what I’m healing. You want me to spend a spell slot on a guess when we have this whole cave ahead of us?”

Lup placed a hand on her brother’s head, but gave Merle a look of disdain.

“Let’s just stop for a few minutes and see what happens,” Merle offered. “This came on real fast. Maybe he just needs a little rest."

“I guess...” Lup trailed off, unsure. She bit her lip and stood up as Magnus reached them, then she grabbed on to one of the wooden crates nearby and pulled it closer to the group. She then used a cantrip to set it aflame and keep the party warm.

Magnus sat down near the fire while Lup and Merle watched Taako closely.

Taako was fully sitting as well now, with both legs tucked to the side of him. Lup joined him, and carefully lifted his hat off his head and placed it on the ground beside her. She then gently pulled him close so that his head rested on her shoulder.

“You were able to meditate last night, right?” Lup questioned quietly. “I could have sworn you were trancing.”

Taako did not answer, but he finally pulled his hand away from his face. His eyes were closed, and both hands were folded in his lap.

“Guess not...” Lup muttered.

Merle handed her a cloth and a water skein. Lup took them, dampened the cloth and wiped the sweat from Taako’s forehead.

“He’s burning up,” Lup pointed out, surprised. “I don’t get it. He was fine when we came in here, wasn’t he?”

Merle shrugged, and began to flip through his bible in search of answer. Lup felt Taako lean into her more, and she tensed to support his weight. It was very unusual for him to tolerate looking helpless in front of his friends.

Lup began to worry. “We can rest as long as you need to,” she said to her brother. “But what kind of illness comes on this fast? Are you sure you didn’t get hurt?”

Again Taako did not respond, and Lup only heard the soft slow breaths commonly heard when elves are deep in meditation.

Lup’s brow furrowed, and she took Taako by the shoulders and gently repositioned him so that his head was in her lap. Doing this, concern gave way to fear—as her brother did not stir at all. She tried to rouse him.

“Taako?” She pressed. “Hey.”

Lup shook him gently by the shoulders.

“Taako?” She asked again, her voice cracking slightly. She swallowed hard.

“He’s not trancing,” Lup said to no one in particular. “I can’t wake him up.”

Merle kneeled down to check him out.

“Aw, hell,” the cleric grumbled, taking a step back to continue thumbing through his book with a little more urgency. “He’s unconscious.”

“I was only gone for a minute,” Magnus said, irritated. “What happened?”

“I—I don’t know,” Lup answered. “Merle, if he’s unconscious then he’s not going to heal at all by himself.”

“I know, I know,” Merle said. “I’m seeing what I’ve got.”

“It’s not a good idea to split the party,” Magnus pondered aloud, thinking about their mission. “I doubt the Light is in here anyway. Maybe we should just turn back, and we can come back if Cap’nport’s group didn’t find it.”

“Well, I’ll heal Taako up and we’ll take it from there,” Merle replied.

“Hang on,” Magnus warned. “If we don’t know what happened to him, who’s to say it can’t happen to us? You can heal him but then if we keep going further in and you come down with it we’re all screwed.”

They all paused to think about their next course of action.

“Okay,” Lup began, breaking the silence after a few minutes. “Let’s just get Taako back on his feet and then get out of here. We can come back another day if we have to.”

“Alright,” Merle responded. “I guess I’ll cast lesser restoration...for an illness? But if that’s not really the problem, that’d be a wasted spell.”

“Maybe I should just double check that he didn’t get hurt somehow,” Lup said quietly. She began examining him, looking for any sign of blood or broken bones, when suddenly she froze.

She watched his chest for a few moments, eyes wide.

“He’s—Merle, he’s not breathing. “ Lup stammered in a panic. “He’s not breathing.”

Magnus stood up, shocked, while Merle quickly dropped down next to Taako. Lup’s hand went right to the side of her brother’s neck.

No pulse.

“Merle—Merle, do something—please!”

Without further hesitation, Merle cast Spare the Dying.

A soft white glow flowed from Merle’s bible into Taako’s body, and Taako let out a soft gasp and a few ragged breaths before his normal breathing resumed.

Lup let out a sigh of relief, tears pricking her eyes. She grabbed tight to her brother’s IPRE robe.

“What the actual fuck was that, Taako?” Lup muttered under her breath.

He was alive, but still unconscious.

“He’s stable for now,” Merle explained, on edge. “But if we don’t figure out what did this and heal it, he’ll just die again.”

Lup grabbed Taako’s hand, fearing for her brother’s life. Sure, they were basically immortal and death at this point would just mean not seeing Taako for about three weeks—but it was still not something she wanted to go through. She had been with him the whole time—how could she let her brother get into such a bad condition without her even noticing?

When she grabbed his hands, however, something caught her eye.

One hand seemed normal, but one was stiff and colder than the other, the veins raised.

Lup cautiously turned over the afflicted hand so that the palm was facing up.

At the center of the palm was the smallest scrape, which was atop a raised and throbbing purple mass. From the mass spread Taako’s veins, which were also enlarged and deep purple.

“What the hell is that?” Magnus asked.

Lup looked to Merle, afraid.

With that, Merle cast Detect Poison.

“Alright,” he said. “Well, good news is he’s not just sick. Bad news is, that’s definitely poison.”

“Can you...do anything for that?” Magnus asked.

Merle shook his head. “Not much. I can heal him, but I can tell this is a weird poison we don’t have back home. Basically it’s going to just keep doing damage until it loses potency. I’ll heal him now so he won’t die again, but I’m going to have to heal him again in a few hours even if I get him back to full health now.”

“Shit,” Lup lamented.

“When did he get poisoned?” Magnus asked.

Lup paused for a moment, then her jaw dropped with realization. She pressed a palm to her face.

“That shitty arrow trap,” she moaned. “He slapped one away from me. It must have nicked him.”

“Guess that’s why there weren’t any more traps,” Merle said. “They only needed the one.”

Magnus sighed. “Alright, well, let’s just head back to the ship, then. That way Merle can just heal him whenever and not have to worry about us.”

Magnus carried Taako out of the cavern, which luckily wasn’t too far from the Starblaster. Once they were safe, Lup cast Sending to get a message out to Barry—warning the other group that their cleric was going to be preoccupied and that they might consider heading back early.

---

Taako was out for two full days.

Thankfully, Merle was able to heal him when necessary—so the crew didn’t need to use any of their limited supply of potions.

For the first twelve hours or so after getting back to the Starblaster, not much happened. They had put him in a spare room that functioned as a medical bay when they happened to need one, and had him lay on a bed with Lup sitting next to it, constantly monitoring him. She stayed by his side with a water basin and a cloth, just trying to make him comfortable. Taako’s health would drop, and Merle would save him. Then Taako would worsen, and Merle would save him again. And so the cycle went on, with Taako suffering silently, until Merle ran out of spell slots and had to take a long rest to recover them.

Davenport’s team came back after Merle had already gone to bed. They were dismayed to see that Taako’s condition had not changed. However, the silver lining was that they had in fact found the Light of Creation—so they could use the last three weeks of the cycle to rest.

Davenport went to sleep shortly after checking up on Taako, as he’d been injured slightly on their mission. Lucretia and Barry stayed up for a few hours to keep Lup company, but Lucretia ended up falling asleep in a chair—which prompted Lup to send both to bed.

Skipping one night of meditation was taxing, but doable.

Another full day passed, and by the second night Taako no longer seemed peaceful. His breathing grew heavy, and he appeared to be in pain. He clearly was getting worse, not better.

Taako tossed and turned, grimacing.

Lup’s heart broke for him, and she wiped his forehead with a damp cloth again.

“I’m here, Taako,” Lup reassured. “Hang in there.”

There was a soft knock on the door.

“Come in,” Lup answered, dejected.

The door opened slowly as Lup dipped the cloth back into the bowl of ice water, her gaze locked on her brother.

“You should try to get some rest, Lup,” Barry said gently.

It was late into the second night, nearly four in the morning. Lup looked up at her friend, dark circles carved under her lightless eyes.

“No—I can’t leave him like this,” Lup responded flatly. “Merle’s sleeping, I have to make sure Taako stays stable...I wish I could do something for the pain, though...”

“You’ve done your part,” Barry assured. “And I promise I will take care of him. Now please, even just for two or three hours, try to get some meditation in?”

Lup shook her head. “I’ve never seen him like this, Barry. Merle said that the poison isn’t meant to be in living beings for this long. It works by numbing everything—there was no struggle at first, he just seemed tired and then he stopped breathing and— and that’s how it’s supposed to work, but if you survive and it stays in your system long enough your body tries to fight it off and the numbness goes away and—and it’s just pain.”

Barry started to reach a hand out to touch her cheek, but faltered and retracted it. Instead, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Merle also said Taako’s going to sweat it out and pull through.”

“But he doesn’t know that,” Lup countered. “He could tell how the poison worked, sure, but this is a weird plane with weird plants that we don’t have, and—and there are no elves here—and there’s no way he can know for certain what’s going to happen.”

“And neither do you,” Barry said delicately. “So why don’t you lie down or at least close your eyes, and I absolutely promise I will snap you out of your trance if anything changes.”

Lup bit her lip, considering the offer, but looked again to her haggard brother whose rough breathing and trembling hands made her heart sink.

“No. I’ll rest when he’s out of danger. Besides, between the two of us I’m not the one who needs to sleep at night. Why are you awake?”

“Cause I’m worried!” Barry exclaimed in a whisper. “You’ve been at this for two days, Lup, you’re gonna crash and burn.”

“You’re worried about me?” Lup asked, almost amused.

“Yes?” Barry replied instantly, exasperated. He paused a moment, his cheeks turning red. “We all are. I mean don’t get me wrong, I am worried sick about Taako but yes I am definitely concerned about you too!”

“You don’t need to be,” Lup answered, trying to muster a smile.

Barry sighed deeply. He pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, pushing up on his glasses.

Taako let out the quietest of whimpers as his body tensed; he grit his teeth and his hands gripped tightly at the sheets underneath him.

Lup took his hand in hers and waited for the wave to pass. This time, Barry drew the rag from the basin and dabbed around Taako’s face.

“Thank you,” Lup murmured.

Barry returned the cloth to its place, then shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“I can’t leave him, Barry,” Lup explained quietly. “Taako...he talks a big game, but if he wakes up and he’s alone and hurt...”

“He won’t be alone,” Barry reminded her.

“I have to be here if he wakes up,” she said. “When he wakes up. Please, try to understand.”

“I do,” Barry resigned. “But if you don’t pick a time to rest, your body’s going to pick it for you. Can we compromise?”

“Maybe.”

“Just trance right here, and I’ll be here too. And if he so much as moves a finger I will alert you.”

“Counter offer,” Lup began. “You go get at least six hours of human sleep because it’s the middle of the night, and when the sun is up and you are rested I will let you take over for one hour.”

“Two hours.”

“Hour and a half, but I stay here.”

“Deal.”

And so Barry went off to bed, pausing before he left the room as if he had something to say, but left without another word.

Lup did not keep up her end of the bargain, however, because the next afternoon Lucretia came into the room, already fully dressed and bundled for the winter weather.

“I’m going to head into town,” Lucretia stated. “There’s an apothecary. Maybe they’ll know something about this poison. There has to be something more we can do.”

Barry had come to take over for Lup not long after Lucretia left.

“We had a deal,” Barry pointed out.

Lup, looking worse for wear after two skipped nights of rest, shook her head.

“Lucretia went out to look for answers—she won’t be gone long; I want to hear what she has to say.”

“So I’ll let you know when she’s back,” Barry bargained, frustrated.

They argued more, and Lup finally gave in—somewhat. She sat on the floor, legs crossed and folded, and closed her eyes. Every time Barry checked on her, however, she had one eye open and was clearly alert.

“C’mon, Lup,” Barry pleaded after fifteen minutes or so. “Try to get some rest.”

Lup stood up and began pacing. Barry sighed, and let it go.

Half an hour later, Lucretia was back. She held a small vial and a pocket knife close to her chest. She seemed troubled. Merle stood behind her, incredulous.

“I have an antidote,” Lucretia announced unceremoniously.

“Great,” Lup exclaimed with a smile of relief. The smile disappeared, however, when she saw Lucretia’s apprehensive face.

Lup stepped back, allowing Lucretia and Merle to get close to Taako.

“It’s like a living poison,” Lucretia explained with urgency. “That’s why Merle couldn’t fully get rid of it. He would neutralize the poison but then more would be released. And it builds up over time. It’s like an organism and it consumes decaying matter, but because Taako didn’t die it just stayed in his system and multiplied and expanded, and that’s what caused the pain.”

“Okay,” Barry said. “So you have something that will kill the poison?”

“Yes…” Lucretia spoke hesitantly. “But the apothecary said…the process is really hard on the body. They said that…people who survive wish they hadn’t.”

Lup began to fidget with her hands.

“It’s actually a really common poison here,” Lucretia went on. “So common, however, that the antidote is usually administered within an hour of contact. Two full days have passed…the apothecary said that’s practically unheard of, and the only way he’s going to recover from the process is by sleeping a lot.”

“But he can’t sleep,” Lup said, monotone. “We can’t sleep.”

“Well…exactly,” Lucretia answered delicately. “I’m not sure if this is going to work.”

“But I think it’s worth a shot,” Merle said. “I can’t keep up this routine for much longer, and neither can you, Lup. And I hate to say it, because I want to avoid this at all costs, but…if this goes south, he’s not gone forever. The cycle’s almost over. We can’t let him suffer like this.”

Lup sat down and buried her face in her hands. Everyone remained silent for a few minutes.

“It’s your decision, Lup,” Lucretia said. “We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. But he’s definitely not going to get better if we don’t do this.”

Lup shook her head and stood up.

“Okay,” she resigned. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”

“We have to make an opening where the poison made first contact,” Lucretia explained. “And then just pour this over it. And…try to keep him comfortable while the antidote does its stuff.”

“Okay,” Lup nodded, and reached out her hand. “I’ll do it. I want to do it.”

Barry looked back and forth between Lup and Lucretia, looking unsure as Lucretia handed the pocket knife to Lup.

Wordlessly, Lup knelt down next to the bed and made a small incision on the mass in Taako’s hand. He winced slightly. The wound oozed blood and a purple substance that she had cleaned from his hands several times over the past two days.

With that, Lucretia stepped closer and uncorked the vial.

“Barry,” Lucretia commanded gently. “Hold him down if you have to. Merle, get ready.”

Lup pressed Taako’s wrist down onto the bed while Lucretia poured the potion into the wound. The potion sizzled and fizzed as the purple substance mixed in with Taako’s blood evaporated.

Taako’s hand tensed and trembled, but for a few moments that was all that happened. Lup let out a deep breath, somewhat relieved. Lucretia, however, watched Taako closely—very unsure.

Half a minute later, Taako grimaced and gasped. His body tensed, then he bolted upright with a blood-curdling scream.

Lup’s heart dropped, her eyes widened. Barry grabbed Taako and forced him back down to the bed, fighting to keep him down as he writhed in agony. Lup held down on his wrist with one arm while trying to keep his legs down with her other. The screaming did not stop. Her sensitive ears pulled back with the noise. Lup had stayed strong through this whole ordeal, but now she finally broke down and began to cry. She had never seen him scream in pain before.

“Taako,” she pleaded through tears, almost unable to hear herself over the shouting. “Taako—it’s okay, I know it hurts—please hang in there!”

At the sound of Taako’s screams, a horrified Magnus ran into the room, followed quickly by Davenport.

“What happened?” Davenport demanded, panicked.

“Merle, do it now,” Lucretia ordered, tears in her eyes.

“It only lasts a minute,” Merle shouted.

“Do something,” Lup begged.

Merle cast Calm Emotions.

Taako’s wailing ceased, but it was clear that the pain did not. He bit his lower lip so hard it drew blood; he breathed heavily as his body shook.

They all paused, and Lup buried her face in her arms on the bed, shaking.

“This only lasts a minute,” Merle repeated. “It’s not a cantrip, I can’t just do it over and over again.”

“Can anyone cast sleep?” Lucretia asked.

“Elves are immune to that,” Lup droned, her voice muffled by the bed.

“…Right,” Lucretia sighed.

“I have Essence of Ether,” Davenport offered softly. “It’ll keep him under for eight hours or until we wake him up.”

“Yeah,” Lup retorted. “Let’s poison him some more.”

Merle cast another healing spell, then sighed. “I don’t see what other choice we have, Lup.”

Lup sat up and wiped her eyes, shaking her head. She cursed.

“Fuck it,” she resigned. “Do whatever.”

The captain left and returned with a round bottle. He shooed Merle, Barry, and Lup away from the bed. Lucretia and Magnus left the room entirely to give the others some space.

“Stay back,” Davenport warned. “If you inhale it, you’ll be out too.”

He opened the vial near Taako’s face, and shortly after he seemed to relax somewhat. He continued to tremble and sweat and his breathing did not improve, but he stopped writhing and his jaw relaxed.

Davenport put the cork back in the bottle.

“He’ll wake up in eight hours, or sooner if you try to wake him. So just let him rest.”

Davenport took his leave, and Merle followed him—saying that he would be back to check on Taako in an hour.

Lup leaned against a wall and sunk down to the floor, burying her face in her knees. Barry rushed to her side, hesitating before placing a hand on her head.

For the next eight hours, Lup could not be persuaded to rest or eat. Her movements were slow and shaky. She was worn out. She did not attempt to rouse Taako, fearing that he would still be in agony.

Near the end of the ether’s duration, Taako’s breathing grew more stable. His body temperature dropped to a more normal level, and the trembling had mostly subsided.

Even after Davenport’s ether had worn off, Taako remained unconscious for a few hours. Merle healed him again before heading off to bed to recover his spell slots. Barry kept Lup company for as long as she allowed him to, but she eventually forced him to go to bed as well. Lup sat alone with Taako.

Not long after Barry had left, Taako finally began to stir.

His eyes opened with difficulty, unfocused and glassy. He looked around, blinking a few times to try and clear his hazy vision, before locking eyes with his sister.

“Lup...?” His voice was raspy and weak.

Lup beamed. “Hey,” she answered quietly.

“You...look like hell,” Taako mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

She scoffed. “You should see yourself.”

Taako let out a small noise as he tried to prop himself up—but Lup quickly placed a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back down to the bed.

“Don’t—don’t move around too much, Taak, you’re in a bad way.”

“Huh...?”

“How are you feeling?”

He paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. He forced a small smile.

“Yeah...not gonna lie, I, uh...really not great.”

“I bet,” Lup said as she dabbed his face with the cloth again.

“What...what happened?” He asked.

“You touched a poison arrow while you were goofing around, dingus.”

Taako squinted and frowned as he tried to recall. He rolled his eyes when he remembered.

“That garbage excuse for a trap did this?”

“You’re losing your touch, my dude,” Lup teased softly.

“Yeah, shit, guess I really couldn’t solve the cave puzzle.”

Taako winced slightly as he spoke, and Lup’s smile faded. She took a second to gather her thoughts.

“Listen, you remember how everyone on this plane are humans?” She asked.

He nodded, running a hand through his hair.

“Their medicines are gonna work differently on you. The antidote we gave you...well typically you’d need to sleep. It takes a lot out of you.”

Taako continued to rub his eyes. “Okay?” he prompted, almost inaudibly.

“We knocked you out so you wouldn’t feel as much,” Lup explained. “But you really need to trance. Do you think you can?”

He thought a minute, then shrugged.

“I know it’s gonna be hard cause everything hurts,” she said, hushed. “But you’re not going to recover if you don’t.”

“Should be fine,” Taako replied. “It’s not so bad. I can tell you took good care of me.”

“Well it was mostly Merle honestly,” Lup said. “We owe him a big thanks. Let’s cook up something nice for him when you’re back on your feet. “

“Merle actually healed me?” Taako doubted.

“Yeah, a whole bunch of times. And Lucretia got the antidote, Capn’port had the ether, Magnus got you back to the ship...and Barry kept us company. It was a group effort, I guess.”

Taako pulled his hand away from his face and took a good look at his sister.

“How long was I out?” He asked.

“This is the third night,” Lup replied wearily.

“Three days?!” Taako tried again to sit up, but failed. He continued with irritation: “And you’ve been with me the whole time.”

Lup opened her mouth to say something, but Taako cut her off.

“I can tell,” he said. “You need to trance. I’m alright now. Go get some rest.”

“I’m fine, Taak.”

“Did you forget to eat too, goofus?”

Lup tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, looking askance.

“Tell you what,” Lup said, taking a moment to grab a canteen from the table behind her. “You’re gonna drink a whole bunch of water because I swear you just sweat out your whole body weight, which—gross, by the way—and then you’re gonna try to trance so that you can recover a little bit. And when Barry comes to check in on us in the middle of the night again, I’ll let him take over. And then I will go and meditate.”

Taako briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and Lup couldn’t tell if it was from annoyance or pain.

“Barry will?” Taako asked.

“Yeah, he’s been trying to take over since day two,” Lup said with a sigh. “He keeps popping in around four or five.”

Taako gave a little smirk. “He’s a pretty good dude.”

“Yeah,” Lup gave a sad smile. “He is. He was worried about you. We were all really worried.”

Lup’s smile dropped as quickly as it had come, and she continued: “God, Taako, that was...that was really scary.”

Taako tried a third time to rise. Lup put a hand out to stop him, but he pushed it away. He sat up, holding his head, and took a few jagged breaths. When he regained his composure, he reached a hand out to Lup. She took it and glanced at him, forlorn.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m fine now. You did a good job. Relax.”

Lup handed him the canteen and Taako took a long drink.

“Are you hungry?” She asked.

Taako made a face at the thought, his stomach turning. “Absolutely not.”

Lup nodded. “Alright,” she said. “Then just lie down and try to trance.”

He did not argue. To Lup’s relief, Taako was actually able to meditate fairly quickly. She had been worried that the pain would keep him too alert.

When Barry came in to check on them, Lup finally acquiesced. She took a few hours to meditate right in the room with Taako, more out of exhaustion than worry, and when she finished Barry sent her to her room to get a proper rest.

Taako spent nearly half the next day trancing, which was very unusual for any elf, but his body was so messed up it was necessary. When asked how he was feeling, he likened it to “a hangover, but a hundred times worse.” He improved somewhat when Lucretia brought him some Fantasy Aspirin.

It took a full week for Taako to feel completely back to normal, though he lied and told his friends he was fine after only three days.

When the end of the cycle came and everything predictably reset for the IPRE crew, Lup wondered how many times she was going to have to watch her family suffer or die. They had begun getting careless about safety—but eventually there would be a last cycle, there had to be! She hoped when that day finally came, everyone she loved would be safe.

Come what may, she knew—at least she and Taako would always have each other.

This fic is also posted on Ao3, click for the link!

#taz balance #taz #taako #lup #the adventure zone #taz fic #taaco twins #hurt/comfort #cw poison #cw blood #cw near death

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queen-scribbles · 6 years

Text

Routines

@pillarspromptsweekly fill 81: Novice. For this one, I borrowed a couple of @risualto‘s OCs, Gjeorun and Ilaine, who have been wanting to learn how to knit from Charity for a while now, but we had to wait until after the wedding. ;D

It was surprisingly easy to return to routine. Charity had been a little worried the whirlwind of wedding planning and novelty of her honeymoon would make it seem... too mundane. But it was almost a relief to come home, back to her house, her gardens, her cat. Sparrow was miffed enough at her being gone she ignored Charity(but not Edér, furry little traitor) for three whole days after they got back. Sunshine more than made up for the cat’s reticence, however, spending those three days glued to Charity’s side, tail wagging furiously whenever she so much as looked at him. Weeding took twice as long when she kept stopping to cave to soulful brown ‘I missed you’ eyes and scratch under a doggy chin.

Aside from earning pet forgiveness, the new routine of married life was also surprisingly easy to pick up. It helped, she knew, that they were both early risers. They were almost always up at the same time and ate breakfast together(he usually cooked) before Edér left for work. Now that planning the wedding didn’t dominate every spare moment of her life, Charity got back her favorite(well, second favorite; cuddling Edér was still first) hobby. That sweater for Edér wasn’t going to finish itself. And once she’d refreshed her memory after so long without picking up the needles, she was able to make good on a promise. One that also gave her something else to do between weeding, so two birds, one stone.

-o-o-

The knock on her door betrayed the visitors’ excitement even before Charity opened it and was almost knocked over by a pair of enthusiastic round the waist hugs.

“Hullo Miss Charity!” the hug-givers chorused.

“Hello, you two,” she laughed, managing to hug one of them as she braced the other against the wall to keep her balance.

“Gjeorun, Ilaine, Hylea’s sake, don’t injure the poor woman before she’s had a chance to teach you anything!” Despite Bethyn’s admonishing tone, there was a smile in her eyes as she shook her head.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Charity assured her. “Sunshine’s getting big enough, he can do worse to me.”

“Thank you, but they do need to remember their manners,” Bethyn said with a loving-yet-meaningful look at her children. Both stepped half a pace back, clasped their hands behind them, and contritely mumbled, “Sorry, Miss Charity.”

“We’re just excited you’re gonna teach us knittin’,” Ilaine added, lisping around a perilously loose tooth.

“What I can remember of it,” Charity said wryly, winking at the girl and ruffling her brother’s hair. “I’m a bit rusty.”

“And they’re not going to care,” Bethyn assured her for the third time since she’d broached the subject and Charity had agreed. She rested a hand each on the shoulder of both children. “They’re just happy to learn, and learn from you.”

“I’m flattered,” Charity smiled. “Does mid-afternoon work for you to come get them?”

“Oh, more than,” Bethyn nodded. “It might be Meryna or Dannith who gets ‘em, but that’s perfectly agreeable. If you don’t mind havin’ ‘em that long?”

“Not at all. They’re good kids.” Charity winked at Ilaine and Gjeorun. “And that’ll give us plenty of time to practice.”

“Alright, then.” Bethyn kissed each of her children atop the head in turn. “You two behave yourselves and listen to Miss Charity, alright?”

“Yes’m!” Gjeorun was slightly faster and louder than his sister this time, rocking up on the balls of his feet in his impatience. With one last smile and wave, Bethyn departed to take care of her business for the day.

Charity gestured toward the dining room. “Alright, you two, let’s get started.”

Ilaine and Gjeorun eagerly followed her to the table, where she’d set up--aside from her own ongoing project--two pairs of knitting needles, and two skeins of yarn, one cheery yellow and one soft lilac.

“What color’s mine?” Ilaine asked, tucking her hair back behind her ears.

“That’s something to work out with your brother, I think.” Charity scooched their chairs in once they were seated.

“I think Gjeorun should get yellow ‘cause it matches his hair,” Ilaine said. She picked up the needles and fiddled with them.

Charity looked at Gjeorun. “Is that alright with you?”

He nodded, reaching for the yellow yarn. “Yeah. Purple is ‘Laine’s fav’rite color, anyway. An’ I like yellow.”

“Okay, if we have that settled, let me show you how to get started.” Charity reached over and unwound a fair bit of yarn from both skeins. “Even before you figure out how to hold the needles” --a smile at Ilaine--”you need a slipknot in the end of the yarn to anchor it to the needle.”

“Oh, I know how to do that!” Gjeorun said cheerfully. “I learnt back in the city.” And, sure enough, despite the yarn likely being skinnier than what he learned on, he had slipknots tied for both him and Ilaine in just a few deft moves.

“Very good,” Charity said, smiling when he beamed at the praise. “And now....” She picked up a spare set of needles and ball of dark red yarn too small to use for anything else. She quickly tied a slipknot of her own and slid it on the needle. “Here’s how you cast on.”

Gjeorun’s nose wrinkled and Ilaine’s ears dipped downward as they concentrated on following her movements. Both of them got it with very little trouble, and Charity showed them how to do a knit stitch for the first row. A few of the stitches were lumpy or loose, but on the whole, they were doing well.

“Now, before we move on,” she began, smiling inwardly at how much she echoed Peycg at her own first knitting lesson, “do you want to just practice today, get the hang of it, or actually start working on something?”

“If we just practice, won’t that waste yarn?” Ilaine asked.

Charity shook her head. “I can just unravel and re-roll it for you to use later.”

“Then I just wanna practice for now,” Ilaine lisped, looking relieved.

“I wanna make a scarf!” Gjeorun said, clacking the needles together impatiently.

“Good choice,” Charity laughed. “That’s the first thing I made when I was learning. It’s not too difficult, and you get something useful when you’re done.”

He kicked his feet and grinned. “Didja make it for Mayor Teylecg?”

She laughed again at the sheer confidence shining in his eyes. “I did indeed. Hopefully yours will turn out better than that sorry thing.”

“But he still wears it, right?” Ilaine piped up.

“He does,” Charity nodded. “Because he is a very nice man. Alright, Ilaine, if you’re not makin’ something particular, you don’t hafta worry as much about keeping your rows even, but Gjeorun, you need to count the stitches in that first row so you can keep track and make all your rows just as wide.”

He nodded. “Got it.”

The two children set to work, tongues sticking out in concentration, and Charity picked up the sweater to work on, regularly glancing at her pupils to ensure things were going well.

-o-o-

Things went well for the first couple hours, and then Gjeorun started dropping stitches, and Ilaine pulled a couple rows too tight. Both were getting flustered and frustrated, so Charity made an executive decision.

“We need a break,” she declared, setting aside her own project. “It’s time for lunch, anyway.”

Both looked relieved to have an excuse to stop without ‘quitting’. They didn’t dilly dally over lunch, but they didn’t rush, either. After a sufficient break to calm frustrated nerves, Charity showed Gjeorun how to fix dropped stitches, and undid Ilaine’s puckered rows so she could try again.

The next couple hours passed swiftly, and before they knew it, Meryna was knocking on the door to collect her younger siblings. Charity sent them home with the needles and yarn so they could keep practicing if they wanted, and assured them they could come back every couple days for more lessons, provided it was alright with their parents.

-o-o-

This became part of Charity’s routine over the next month; Gjeorun and Ilaine came over every Mecwynsdag and Rytlingsdag for knitting lessons. Both proved to be fast learners, despite a few struggles. (”Only natural,” she promised them, getting Edér’s scarf from the mudroom to show them it hadn’t been easy for her, either.) She taught them how to purl, how to change colors so you could do stripes, how to switch between stitches in the same project(that one had mixed success).

She grinned right along with Gjeorun when he finished his sunny yellow scarf--less lumpy than her first attempt, even--and promptly gave it to his mother. “It’ll looke pretty with your hair, Mom!” She encouraged Ilaine through the doll-sized shawl she decided to make as her first project, which--thanks to copious practice--turned out very well.

And she got more than a little choked up on the day they showed up fpr lessons hiding their hands behind their backs only to reveal thank you presents almost as soon as they walked in the house.

Gjeorun had made her a green and white striped scarf and Ilaine gave her a doll wrapped in a very familiar lilac shawl under dark red hair.

“Thank you so much!” Charity said, kneeling to hug them both with a gift in each hand. “Gjeorun, this is my very favorite shade of green, and Ilaine, she’s such a pretty doll, are you sure you want to give her to me?”

Ilaine smiled bashfully and nodded. “I have other dolls, an’ her hair reminded me of you. ‘M not ready t’ make anything bigger yet.”

“Well, thank you, I’ll take very good care of her,” Charity promised with a smile.

“Look how straight I got the stripes!” Gjeorun piped up. He ducked out of the hug and pushed the scarf closer.

“I saw,” Charity laughed. “Very impressive for your first time.” Only a few of the stripes were noticeably crooked or wider than the rest. “I can’t wait until it’s cold enough for me to use it.” She carefully set both present on the pass-through to the kitchen. “Are you two ready to start?”

“Yes!” they chorused, scrambling for the table.

Charity couldn’t help smiling again as she joined them. She very much liked her new routine.

----------------------------------

(I do think it’s kinda funny the first post-wedding Ederity fic doesn’t have any Edér. Whoops. I’m sure they’ll get back to their fluff in no time ;D)

#queens fic #pillars prompts weekly #charity #ilaine #gjeorun #pillars of eternity

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ordered---chaos · 7 years

Text

Knitting in the Bunker

“Are you knitting?” Dean asks when he finally realizes what Cas is doing.

He’s just walked into the war room, where Cas sits with Dean’s computer open and a frown on his face. His hands are full of blue knitting needles, three different skeins of yarn, and something small Dean can’t fully see.

“Yes,” Cas answers absently. He squints at the screen, then back at the thing in his hand.

“You knit?”

“Yes.”

He sounds preoccupied, so Dean goes to make himself a burger. When he comes back, there’s a huge smile on Cas’ face that’s even more surprising than finding the angel knitting at the table.

“What is it?” Dean asks, trying to see what Cas has in his hands.

The page up on the screen is full of gibberish knitting instructions that look more like some sort of CIA code than a grandmother’s hobby.

Cas opens his hand, his eyes alight. And Dean sees…

The cutest damn thing.

It’s a tiny knitted bee. Its soft body is striped black and yellow, with floppy white wings sticking out on each side. It’s even got a miniscule stinger made of black fuzz.

“You made that?” Dean asks. He can’t imagine a warrior’s hands creating something so small and intricate. He knows his couldn’t.

“I was having trouble with the wings,” Cas says. “They were harder to attach than I expected.”

Dean reaches out to it, but pulls his hand back. He’s suddenly afraid of breaking it. Cas smiles lovingly at the bee.

“I didn’t know you could knit,” Dean says, because Cas’ happy silence is making him feel lost.

Cas nods. “Since I Fell. I learned then. To pass the time.”

Dean swallows. “I’m impressed, dude. That shit’s complicated.”

“This was,” Cas says, placing the tiny bee gently on the table. “But in general no.”

“No?”

“I could teach you a simple stitch,” Cas offers. “It can be very relaxing.”

Dean isn’t so sure his hands will be up to it. “What if I break it?”

“The needles are metal. And yarn is surprisingly durable.” Cas squints up at him, waiting for an answer. Dean clears his throat.

“Fine, okay. Yeah. But it probably won’t work.”

“I’ve seen your hands, Dean,” Cas says, picking up the lurid yellow yarn and his two needles. “You are more than capable.”

“Geez, are you flirting with me?” Dean jokes.

Cas stares at him for a long moment, then ties a slipknot with the end of the yarn. “This is to cast-on,” he says. He puts the needle through the eye of the knot and pulls it tight. “We’ll start with just fifteen stitches.”

He loops the yarn around his hand, then puts the needle through again. When he pulls his hand out, there’s another stitch waiting on the needle.

“Wait, how’d you do that?” Dean asks.

Cas shows him again. Dean watches the stitches on the needle multiply. It’s clever linework. Cas does five of them, then holds out the needle to Dean.

It’s simpler than he’d expected. It’s all about manipulating the string, and that’s something he’s known since he was old enough to tie his shoes. He casts ten more stitches onto the needle, and is surprised by how quickly his hands pick up the motion. Cas is right; this is relaxing.

“Now I’ll show you the actual stitch.”

“That wasn’t it?”

“No that was just casting-on.” Cas takes the other needle off the table. “Here.”

Dean hands the fledgling piece back over. Cas demonstrates how to do the stitch, and Dean watches closely.

“There are ways to remember this,” Cas says, doing a second stitch. “Mnemonics and such. But none of them work for me.”

“That’s okay,” Dean says, completely intrigued by the motion of Cas’ fingers tangling expertly through the yarn. “I probably wouldn’t remember it anyway.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Cas says quietly enough that Dean doesn’t have to respond. He’s grateful.

“Alright, let me try,” he says, trying to hide his excitement. Cas hands over the needles again.

Carefully, Dean puts the free needle through. That was the first step. But he quickly gets tangled.

“Hang on. What’d I do? Oh, shit.”

“Let me see.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re learning.”

Cas gently takes Dean’s hand. “It has to go between those two strands. See?” Dean does. He nods, his face flushed with shame.

“I’m no good at these things.”

“Put the needle through there, Dean.” There’s a sternness in Cas’ voice that makes Dean sigh. He doesn’t want to disappoint Cas more, so he just threads the needle through. Cas guides his other hand around, pointing out where he needs to loop the yarn.

“Now pull.”

Dean does…and produces one clean stitch.

“Whoa.” He holds it up, looking closer. “I did it! Look at that!”

Cas smiles back at him. “Do another.”

Dean does, carefully repeating the steps Cas had just walked him through. His hands find it easier this time. There’s a pattern they can follow, muscle memory like reloading a gun.

Growing more confident, he ties another stitch, then a third and fourth. He glances up at Cas, who’s watching his face with a small smile. His eyes drop back to the knitting when Dean looks up.

“You’re doing very well,” Cas says.

“Thanks,” Dean replies.

He finishes the row and automatically switches hands.

“You’re a natural,” Cas says as Dean finishes his second row.

Dean’s smiling stupidly now. He’s got two lines of damn-fine knitting in his hands, and each stitch comes easier than the last.

Then he realizes that he’s stolen Cas’ needles, and he’s just sitting there, turning the tiny bee over and over in his hands.

“Sorry,” Dean says.

He hands his knitting over to Cas.

“For what?”

Dean laughs, stands and cracks his back. “I stole your knitting. You can go back to bees.”

He picks up his long-cold burger.

“I enjoyed this, Dean,” Cas says.

“Hey, me too,” Dean tells him honestly. “Gotta get myself a pair of knitting needles.

Cas beams at him.

He does just that the next time he drives into Lebanon on a beer run. There’s a modest craft store in the town’s little strip mall. Dean browses the shelves, glad there aren’t any grannies here today to glare at him for invading their territory—or worse, act like he’s something special for wanting to knit or something. He’s not, really. He’s just a guy who likes doing stuff with his hands. And hey, knitting needles are pretty badass. You could totally put someone’s eye out with one. He’s pretty sure he’s seen a movie where that happened….

He ends up with two slender black needles and a skein of blue yarn. It’s the softest fucking thing he’s ever touched. There must be yarn scientists out there researching how to make softer yarn, because no way this shit’s natural.

He makes small talk with the cashier while she rings him out. She tries to get him to take a pamphlet about a knitting class that meets on Tuesdays, but he brushes it off. He gets back in the Impala and continues to the grocery store.

Between the next two hunts, Dean practices. The stitch is coming effortlessly now. He’s honestly surprised that he’s managed to pick up this skill. His hands were usually reserved for destruction…or driving.

He shows Cas the first scarf he makes. Cas runs his hands over it and tells Dean it’s flawless, even though there were several times Dean fucked up in the first few rows, and that part of the scarf is blemished and kinked.

“I’m impressed, Dean. And I have something for you.”

That makes Dean wary, because he’s really not used to receiving gifts. But Cas just holds out his hand and puts something soft and small into Dean’s palm.

It’s that tiny knitted bee. Dean swallows. Cas has sewn a loop of black thread onto the bee’s back, between its wings.

“I thought you could hang it from the mirror in the Impala,” Cas says nervously. He won’t meet Dean’s eyes.

“I will, Cas,” Dean says. “I’ll go put it there right now.”

He does just that, working the thread around the mirror and then tying it so it can’t ever fall off. When he backs out of the car, Cas is standing there with a smile on his face. Dean’s own smile grows, and they laugh.

Not to be one-upped, Dean begins his own project. He buys more yarn than he ever thought he’d touch, as well as other supplies he’ll need. He bookmarks the instructions on his computer, and then hides it in his porn folder so that no one will find it.

He works tirelessly for weeks. In all honesty, the project is definitely beyond his skill. But he’s determined and he gets it done.

The day he finishes, he picks up his creation and punches it into a less lumpy shape. He should probably redo it better, or at least fix it up a little, but the excitement of success makes him leave his room with it clutched against his chest.

“Cas?” he calls.

“Hmm?” Cas replies. It sounds like he’s in the library. Dean finds him sitting immersed in a stack of books.

Dean holds out his gift. Cas stares at him.

“Is that— Dean.”

It’s a knitted bee, just like the one that’s now been hanging in the Impala for a month. But it’s massive. The whole thing is a little bigger than a pillow. The stinger is as big as Dean’s hand, and its wings are the size of hand towels.

Cas reaches out for it, takes it in his arms.

“You made this?” he asks.

Dean feels a rush of vulnerability that makes him want to grab the bee back and disappear into his room forever. But he stands his ground because he’s a grown man, dammit.

“I had a little bit of trouble,” he says. “You’re right. The wings are a bitch.”

Cas’ hand brushes over them as he speaks. “It’s beautiful.” His voice is rough.

Dean looks away because he can feel his face turning embarrassing colors. “You can have it. If you want it.”

“Dean, I couldn’t,” Cas says. “This must have been so difficult.”

“It was nothin’. I want you to have it.”

Cas looks up at him. Then he nods. “Alright.”

Dean grins. “You want pancakes? I’m gonna make pancakes.”

“Yeah,” Cas says. “I’ll just go put this….” He trails off, leaving the library.

Dean thinks about the bee in the Impala, and hopes Cas puts his gift somewhere special.

A little bit later, as he’s passing Cas’ room, he sees the bee standing guard on Cas’ pillow. The blankets are neatly made up, but rumpled, as though Cas was lying on them. Dean’s not really a tracker, but he’s pretty sure, from the imprint of Cas’ body, that he was lying on his bed with at least one arm wrapped around the bee.

Dean smiles and wonders what he should try to knit next.

A/N: In case you want to knit your own tiny (or huge) bees: http://www.chemknits.com/2009/11/bzzzzzzz-knit-bumble-bee.html

#drabble #supernatural #knitting #bees #cute #fluff #sweet #schmoop #dean winchester #castiel

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croggle · 7 years

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Spring and Bees

Hey guys!

Did I ever tell you just how much I love spring? And bees? If I didn’t, you know now. In the 4 months of this year I got to crochet hella lot of bees.

There’s first the bee bear. He’s - nomen est omen - a mixture between bee and bear. This is because I always thought that bees looked a little bit like little flying bears. That’s also the reason why the body is mostly inspired by the bee and the details - like his paws and his ears - are based on the bear.

There is second the keychain bee, that I made, inspired by this tutorial from allaboutami. I found it to be immensely cute and had a yarn skein still lying around that I didn’t know what to use on (okay… it still didn’t take that much.. so it’s still just… lying around but it’s not the only one so it’s not lonely :D and I’ll use it… sometime…) If you got a little bit of spare time on your hand you can give it a try and make your own little keychain bee :).

The last two bees are surprise kinder eggs. As you know I really like making them. As for that very reason there’s this quick tutorial on how to make them ;). Enjoy!

Bee Kinder Surprise Egg - Pattern

Tools

Yellow and black Schachenmayr Catania

3.5mm crochet hook size

Wool needles

Black pearls

Upper part

Use yellow yarn

round 1: work 6 sc in mr (6)

round 2: *2 sc in 1 sc* repeat 6 times (12)

round 3: *1 sc, 2 sc in 1 sc* repeat 6 times (12)

round 4: *2 sc, 2 sc in 1 sc* repeat 6 times (24)

round 5 - round 9: sc in each sc around (24)

fasten off

Lower part

Start with yellow yarn

round 1: work 6 sc in mr (6)

round 2: *2 sc in 1 sc* repeat 6 times (12)

round 3: *1 sc, 2 sc in 1 sc* repeat 6 times (18)

round 4: *2 sc, 2 sc in 1 sc* repeat 6 times (24)

round 5 & round 6: sc in each sc around (24)

round 7: use black yarn sc in each sc around (24)

round 8: use yellow yarn sc in each sc around (24)

round 9: use black yarn sc in each sc around (24)

round 10: use yellow yarn sc in each sc around (24)

fasten off

Wings (2x)

Use white yarn It’s fairly easy to make the wings. Make 5 chains. At second chain from hook make 2 dcs and then two hdcs. Then fasten off. When you’re done making the both of the wings, attach them to the back of the bee.

Antenna (2x)

Use black yarn

As for the antennas you got to make 5 chains. At second chain from hook start by making 1 sc in each remaining chain, so 4 in total. Fold the antennas in half lengthwise. Use one of the two threads from the start or the end to sew together the middle part: work your way to the other thread.

Tips

First apply the eyes to the upper part. I’d suggest using pearls. I used pretty tiny ones this time but you can also use bigger ones like I used for the bear.

Then apply the antennas on top of the upper part but surely in one line with the eyes . This way you can be sure that not everything will be out place once you’ve positioned everything. Then glue the upper part to the kinder egg. Use the wings to hide the color changes in the back. Apply them right there. When you glue the lower part to the kinder egg, be careful to adjust the lower part according to the upper part. We wouldn’t want our bee to be unproportional, or would we?

Well, that’s about it. Enjoy your cute little fellas :). As always I’d be happy to see your results and well… if anything isn’t clear you can always ask me :).

While we’re at it I’ll tell you some amazing stuff about honey bees. A bee alone is responsible for 1-2 tea spoons full of honey. Over the timespan of a few weeks the bee not only takes care of cleaning and building the honeycombs but also looking after the nymphs, guarding the beehive and last but not least collecting everything to produce honey. A bee approximately has 1 million neurons and there are about 20'000 bees in a bee hive.

There are many common misconceptions about the bees. Like that the collector bees or scouts or whatever are men. No. None of the male bees are working. They are having sex and die right after or if they still live in autumn they get banned to die in the cold. Also honey is not bee puke per se. A bee has two different stomachs. One for the honey and one for the digestion. They sometimes lead part of the honey into their stomach if they are low on energy but no whatsoever little part of stomach acid gets in contact with the honey in the “honey stomach”.

And what about queen bee? The bees got a queen and yeah only the queen can lay eggs that will result in either male or female bees (the workers only manage to lay eggs with male bees). BUT the beehive is no monarchy. It’s a democracy. When the old queen bee flies out from the old beehive with some of the workers to look for a new home they are all deciding on a new home. To put it simple: The new home depends on how many bees want it.

Oooh and also, when most people refer to the bee, they mean honey bees. All bees produce honey but the honey bee is capable of producing more honey than she’ll actually manage to consume over winter “break”. Bee keepers have been known to make use of that since… like… ever :D.

Gosh… there is so much more and I hope I didn’t scare you off :). I just wanted to show a little bit of how much I love bees and how amazing they are.

Have a croggle day, bye bye :)

Daughter on the move

#bee #free pattern #spring #flowers #cute #tutorial #amigurumi #crochet #bear #beehive

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trnchd · 7 years

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Made | My Journey Into Socks Part 2

In the last post I wrote, I was barely scratching the surface into sock knitting. I had learned so much in knitting two pairs of socks.

Most patterns are written either cuff-down or toe-up, the bulk of them in the former. This may be great for most, but I get an uneasy feeling knowing I may not have enough yarn to complete the toe. I always pick patterns that ‘require’ more yarn than what I have available so I rather have a shorter leg than having toe-less socks. Designers write patterns using a specific yarn and use that yarn’s yardage as the amount needed to complete the pattern whether it’s a sweater, scarf, socks, wtc. Usually people don’t need that much yarn, but it’s better to overestimate than under and have some leftover for darning and mending. Regardless, I always end up converting socks from cuff-down to toe-up.

Thraw by Clare Devine became my third pair of socks, made from Mrs. Crosby Train Case in a gorgeous raspberry tonal color Hollywood Cerise. I enjoyed working with this yarn, but I feel it doesn’t live up to the hype (it’s also the same base as Lorna’s Laces Solemate). It’s made with 30% Outlast, a rayon that’s supposed to regulate tempature but I didn’t feel any difference. In fact, these were the first pair of socks that made itself a hole :gasp:. I can’t blame the yarn, my feet weren’t in the greatest condition when I discovered the hole, but it’s the only pair I’ve seen a hole so it makes me suspicious.

The pattern itself is gorgeous and the yarn perfectly complements it. I absolutely love the cable and leg lace details on one side and mirrored to match. Converting the pattern to toe-up wasn’t so easy though. Because the cables and lace were charted for a specific length and were located in the middle of my magic loop, I had to do a lot of shifting, recalculating and reversing the charts. In the end, these turned out beautifully, definitely the best looking pair of socks to date. Ravelry notes.

After Thraw, I started to discover I didn’t like the basic trapezoidal shape for my toes. It didn’t look right and it wasn’t fitting my toes correctly, I have a longer 2nd toe on both feet, my mother calls it my ‘alien’ toe, ha ha. I did a little research and came across a method for a more rounded toe and it’s now been the only toe I’ve made since. At the same time, I decided I needed to experiment with other heels. There’s nothing wrong with the heel flap varieties, I personally don’t like the look of them and they were going to ruin the appearance of my next socks.

I can’t remember where I discovered this yarn by Turtlepurl, probably on Instagram when I used to check it everyday, 2-3 times a day... Anyways, I saw Striped Turtle Toes in Trenchcoat that looked like the traditional Burberry checks, except in stripes. I immediately fell in love and needed to get my hands on this. Trouble was they were always sold out, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled with having to pay $30 for yarn shipped from Canada. I eventually threw in the towel and ordered the yarn when I saw my opportunity and didn’t turn back.

You may have noticed up to this point, I’ve only knitted more difficult patterns that a novice wouldn’t dare touching until more experienced. That’s not my MO; I’ve always tackled more interesting patterns/projects first, then work my way backwards, learning as I go. When I first started sewing, I was told by countless people that I should start with pillowcases and stitching across lined paper to learn how to sew in a straight line. Nope, I started with a jersey knit dress and melton wool coat. The dress wasn’t a complete disaster, the grains were in different directions, I used a woven fabric for the waistband and all my seams were disgusting. But it was a completed, mostly wearable dress except it made me look pregnant (it was one of those bad designs), so I only wore it around the house. The coat I finally threw away knowing it was never going to be completed. It has so many problems and looked far to regal for my taste. It was one of those ‘what was I thinking’ moments in royal purple and a shawl type collar, just no.

Anyways, because I didn’t want to distract away from the self-striping, I decided this was going to be my first vanilla sock with an afterthought heel. I think the reason why I stay away from the basic patterns is they’re boring. It’s a nice change to knit TV projects, those that don’t require a lot of attention and can be done while watching a TV show or movie, but my brain gets bored of them. Because I wanted the striping to end right before I knit the heel, these socks are a little too long in the foot. There wasn’t a way to prevent this other than reknit the whole sock, but I can live with my small mistake. Like I’ve said, this is a learning process. Regardless, they turned out exactly as I wanted them to and they’ve worn wonderfully so far without issues. The color is starting to fade a bit after machine washing them a few times, but that’s to be expected with hand dyed yarns.

After finishing those, I took a break from socks and knitted sweaters for a change. At the time I had three skeins of sock yarn left and I didn’t have a plan for them. A skein of a cashmere blend, by far the softest sock yarn I’ve touched so far (until I bought more, see below). My only skein of 100% superwash merino, a rare oddity because I’ve always made it a priority to have some nylon for strength and durability. And a skein of white, grey and black marl, my unicorn.

For the longest time I’ve wanted black and white marl socks. I don’t know why, a small rustic side of me had dreamed of them, searching high and low for the right yarn and always coming up empty. Then one day I randomly spotted the yarn I’d longingly desired after it’d been discontinued and I thought I’d never obtain. I fell so hard in love that I went back after the yarn was discounted even more and bought everything this store had because I wanted a classic baseball raglan sweater knitted with the same marl with black sleeves. Here’s the kicker, it’s Cascade Heritage Quatro in Pepper (no link, it's been discontinued). Wait, WHAT??? How could I go back to this yarn after it ruined my first sock experience? The Quatro line was spun in Peru before Cascade moved most of their operations to China, which means this yarn lives up to the previous hype that made me want to knit it in the first place. I could tell the difference between the two, the Peru one was spun tighter, making it a tad less soft, but less likely to pill, and it’s held up after going through the washer once.

I didn’t want anything flashy, but I didn’t want a completely vanilla pair, so I added a touch of Tanis Fiber Arts Blue Label in charcoal for a slight hand dyed effect. In hindsight, I should’ve gone with a darker or solid black, but Tanis was another highly recommended dyer that I wanted to try (I wasn’t super impressed). One thing I did differently was knit these on smaller needles for a tighter fit. All the socks I knitted thus far were a little too big, especially after wearing them for a day. I made the mistake of knitting these a tad too short in the foot, oh well, I’m still learning. Ravelry notes.

Soooo... I have a small confession. I’ve become obsessed with sock yarn. I’ve become that person I thought I’d never become. They’ve become my drug. Lately I haven’t been able to help myself. I’ve seen too many extremely great deals on Ravelry from both stores and people trying to destash. How can I pass up some of these beautiful colors for a lot less than I would pay retail, most of them 50% off including shipping? Just take my money. I don’t want to know how many skeins I’ve added to my stash, the above picture is a small amount, but I know I have enough to wear a different pair everyday or more. Imagine a 70 qt. storage box neatly organized, almost full of just sock yarn. I’ll admit I have a problem, but I buy these knowing either I’ll knit, weave or sell them, knowing I can’t buy socks in a store. It’s not entirely about the colors or patterns, it’s about knowing my and/or someone else’s feet will be warm and comfy. Yep, some of it's already planned as Christmas presents for others (I shudder at that time of year thought in April).

Since I’ve acquired all this yarn, I’ve made myself a goal, knit at least one pair for myself per month. This includes the summer months because they don’t make my hands and lap extremely hot as a bigger garment would. So far I’ve held to my word. Because socks are a smaller project taking less time than a sweater, I feel more accomplished faster, therefore the rewarding factor is more satisfying. I don’t know if I’ll feature all of my socks on the blog, but I’ll definitely share the more special ones. The rest will go on the social media accounts so be sure to follow for the continuing journey into sock knitting.

#made #knitting #socks

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thejustinmarshall · 6 years

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Music is an Art for Annie Haslam and Renaissance

Interview by Danny Coleman

“I’m 71 this year; can you believe it? I take care of myself; I never abused my voice with drugs and things. The last tour tired me out a little bit because I had to do everything myself but with Micheal Dunford gone I have to make it happen.”

As the legendary vocalist and front woman of the progressive rock band Renaissance, Annie Haslam has seen the ups and downs of a long career which has morphed many times over since 1971. From focal point, to solo artist, to painter and now back with the reformed band once again; this siren with the five octave vocal range continues to wow audiences with her angelic voice as well as her artistic ability.

“I started painting in 2002,” she explained with a voice as smooth as silk. “I went to art school to be a dress designer, I ever only did one painting, it was a watercolor and I thought, I don’t like this it dries too quick. I just didn’t have the desire to do anything like that even though my boyfriend at the time was a brilliant painter but I didn’t look at that because I wanted to be a fashion designer. I did photography, fabric printing, anything to do with what I was there for really; rather than just painting. Then in 2002, I was winding my solo career down, I felt like I had done as much as I could. I had taken on a couple of managers and they just didn’t work out so I thought; what am I going to do? I mean; what am I going to do? I thought well I’m good at photography, I don’t read music so I can’t teach, which was a shame because If I had learned to read and write music I could’ve taught singing. So I was a bit scared as to what I was going to do but I decided that I had to make a change and one day a voice in my head said,”It’s time to start oil painting now” and I’ve had all kind of experiences in my house while I’m painting; all good and wonderful.”

Annie has branched out from her music career yet sees parallels in her two fields of interest. “I feel like I’m gifted. When people listen to the music, they say the same about my paintings; it does something to them, it really uplifts them, it really gets to them and if I do a commission they say,” My God, you got me in this painting” and I’m painting songs now, I can paint songs! The guitar I painted for Martin Guitar is in their museum and I’m painting electric violins apart from all of the other painting I’m doing. A Lot of my earlier works have to do with aliens, I’m definitely very much tuned into that because I believe we’re all from different planets anyway (laughs).”

Surprisingly, Haslam wasn’t ready to become a painter and avoided diving in head first, yet was somehow unexpectedly drawn to it and has now fully embraced her skills as an artist; so much so that at times it borders on the super natural.

“When I was painting my fourth painting, I’m not a flowery girl, never wore flowery dresses and I thought I’m not going to paint flowers but I thought; what am I supposed to be doing? So I bought everything I needed and didn’t paint for like another two or three months and then one day I thought, well today is the day. So I picked a Tiger Lily and painted it and I was very disappointed. I bought a book on oil painting but I didn’t read it because I’m not a reader; I read one page and put it down because I couldn’t be bothered. I thought I’d rather do it wrong and work it out to do it myself, which is what I did but when I decided it was the right day; I thought oh shoot; where do I start? Do I start at the top? The bottom? The middle? (Laughs) Of course it has nothing to do with that at all, it’s the character I get. I don’t try and do anything, it’s just like I’m being plugged into something and the paintings just appear. The third or fourth painting, I was sitting in front of my easel and about six inches in front of my eyes appeared a spider on a skein of silk. It was a really rich auburn red and I blinked and it was gone and as soon as blinked my eyes there was an overwhelming smell of pipe smoke; I knew right away that it was Vincent Van Gogh. I had already started doing the painting and it was like someone else was holding my hand; it’s very exciting and I love it.”

Over the years and with a growing confidence, Annie has begun to cross pollinate her music and art. Several years ago at a progressive rock festival headlined by the band Yes, she put her artwork on the line against some of her peers and one well respected artist by the name of Dean, Roger Dean.

“I recall, “Yestival” in Camden, NJ for two reasons; one musical and one artistic. I did 95 four by six inch paintings to sell there and you know, Roger Dean was there selling his work and his was extremely expensive but absolutely amazing but anyway; I sold everyone of them. I sold every single one of them, all 95. The other thing was, it was very exciting and we had to be there by nine in the morning and we had breakfast, lunch and dinner there but when we went on stage later that day, something was happening with the speakers and there was a rumbling on stage that you couldn’t hear out in the house apparently but it was a rumbling and I’m deaf in one ear so I only wear one in ear(Monitor) and it’s in my right ear and all I heard was this rumbling coming up from the stage and my voice was; oh my I sounded like I was 10 miles away. When something happens like that you somehow have to have a stiff upper lip and cover it up somehow but if you can’t hear yourself singing it’s very difficult to sing in tune (laughs).”

Renaissance reunited within the last decade and on the surface appears to be continuously on the road but according to Haslam; such is not the case and judging by her reaction to the first show after years apart the band made the right decision.

“Not really, we’ve played on the east coast twice a year and also have been to Europe and England but when Michael Dunford and I got the band back together in 2009; we didn’t know what was going to happen really. It was John Scher putting his faith in us again and that’s what started it all off. The first tour we did was amazing; everybody came out of the woodwork and it was like, wow! Because so many years had gone by and we hadn’t done anything, I had my solo career and been to Brazil and Japan with that and then I started my painting career and so it’s been amazing really. Because we’re a six piece band, it’s not cost effective because we lost that time and momentum of all those years and we lost promoters on the west coast, some of the older ones are still around and the younger ones don’t want to take the chance and we were always bigger on the east coast anyway; so it was very difficult for us to get to further a field. We did manage to get to England in 2015 and 2016 and that was absolutely incredible. We filmed a DVD in London at the Union Chapel, we went to Europe, we went to Germany, Holland, Belgium, Israel and Portugal as well and it looks like we might be going to Japan in September; we were there in 2010. So it seems like we’ve been doing a lot but not really, it’s not like six week tours. It’s maybe eight days in the spring and maybe six or eight in the fall and something else somewhere else. We did, “Cruise to The Edge,” which was quite exciting and we did the “Moody Blues Cruise,” which was phenomenal as well.”

So what hasn’t the band done over its long and storied career? How about incorporating a symphonic sound? Haslam says that what started out as an experiment blossomed into more than they could’ve hoped for. “We did these shows last fall with a 10 piece orchestra, it was a test really. We did an indiegogo campaign to make it all happen and John Scher stood up for us again and booked us at Town Hall in New York and that was a big place to book for us really but it was close to a sell out. Then we did the show down here at the Keswick (Theater) and every song I did a painting for; I did it on a 12 by 24 inch canvas and we blew them up to 24 feet by 12 feet. I had to get them photographed with a special camera so that it would work and we filmed it and we’re working on the DVD right now.”

With the experiment a success, the band is currently revisiting symphonic shows and recently performed one at the NJPAC in Newark, NJ. Once again, much of the logistical responsibility falls on Haslam’s shoulders but she’s enlisted some good company to assist her.

“We’re using the orchestra again, we did four shows with the orchestra the last time around. Then John Scher said that he’d like to do another show with the orchestra because he was really impressed by the show in New York which was wonderful. I basically did this all myself with the help of people who work with me and Ray Tessa who has been an incredible pianist, director, my producer and we have written songs together, he’s a very gifted man and a wonderful spirit and we did it. We had a meeting in London after the 2016 tour with the director of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra because we’d been written to and were asked to work with them again. This was amazing because so many people want to work with them and here they were inviting us to work with them again but of course they don’t pay you, you have to pay them,” she said with a loud laugh. “So we had the meeting to work out how we could do the Albert Hall and we made notes about everything that we’d need and the cost and the budget. It would’ve been nice if we could do more orchestra tours but it’s great because we didn’t think that we’d be doing one so quickly and this last show was in a great theater; the Victoria was beautiful. We’re probably going to be doing another one in the fall as well but of course it all comes down to money; we’ll probably make it happen. We tried it here first with a smaller orchestra and Ray gathered these incredible musicians and the blend of everyone was amazing and when they first struck up at the rehearsal I had tears in my eyes and at the first show in Connecticut I thought I was going to pass out to hear the orchestra playing with us.”

So new chapters begin in the lives of Renaissance and Annie Haslam, proving once again that you’re never too experienced to learn or re-invent oneself when necessary. To discover more about Annie, the current tour dates and/or Renaissance; please visit www.anniehaslam.com.

Danny Coleman (Danny Coleman is a veteran musician and writer from central New Jersey. He hosts a weekly radio program entitled “Rock On Radio” airing Sunday evenings at 10 p.m. EST on multiple internet radio outlets where he features indie/original bands and solo artists.)

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slimyscrivener · 7 years

Text

The Test of Mettle Pt4

A short story based on a dream, various adventurers seek their heart’s desire in an eldritch Test of Mettle. The Thief and their Boa have a spirited discussion.

Beginning ~~~ Previous ~~~~ Next

It nodded a head of artificial feathers. Now was the right time, finally, to make the wish of which they had been instructed. It hardly had to be told to do this, in truth it had been chomping at the bit to make it since they arrived. Literally, chewing at a spare rod of wood in the Warrior’s pack over the hours it waited. But now it spat out the soggy splinters and screwed up its mind. The bell tone came again, as it had come incessantly over the time it had waited, and asked the question.

Squeaking wasn’t a formal language, but clearly The Test understood it clearly enough.

The first change the Familiar noticed was a rippling along its back, shifting all of the serpent’s vertebrae with disconcerting pops. Then a creaking of snake’s leather harvested from old boots, skeins of material once sewn together to form their skin pulling taunt. Finally, their body straining as it grew inside the backpack, the entirety of them exploded in a shower of pink feathers and canvas scraps.

Bones spun in the air, elongating, and reshaping themselves into a more majestic curve and curl. Patches of fake scales glimmered into true brilliance, turning from a dyed purple into a swirling array of galactic shades. The clay that filled the Familiar’s former body bubbled through the air, taking on the hues and arteries of real flesh before quickly attaching to bone and hiding beneath scaly skin.

When taloned paws slapped the earth, a new dragon coming to rest on the phantasmal grounds of The Test, time had barely passed.

From the ground behind it came a sputtered cough as though too much liquid were being forced down an already occupied throat. A neophyte dragon turned, feeling muscles for the first time and looked at the ragged shape of the Thief.

For their part, the Thief looked unnaturally cheerful.

“H-hey now”, they chuckled, wiping at the corner of their mouth.

“You’d make an awfully big boa now wouldn’t you? Heh…”

Standing up to their full height, two empty bottles gripped between the fingers of their right hand, corks in the palm of their left, the Thief smiled.

“I’m sort of all out of dragon slaying arrows here- and I’m not certain I have any intact ribs left so ... if you wouldn’t mind maybe backing out for old time’s sake? Maybe?”

The Dragon shuffled to face the Thief directly, watching them, and then opened a mouth brimming with teeth like so many gleaming daggers.

Somewhere hundreds of miles below a statue hit the ground at terminal velocity and exploded.

A glow, so intense as to penetrate the semi translucent phantasmal earth of The Test, lit up the dragon from beneath throwing each new line of musculature into sharp contrast.

And then the beast roared.

The thief’s chest heaved, and an onlooker might have mistaken the sound for a laugh.

***

It had never had the experience of weight, moving this massive new body was strange and alien. As it swung a paw tipped with vicious talons, the movement overshot and raked a young pine into so many scraps of kindling. The Thief was nimble, even as beaten as they were, and was clearly operating on magical assistance. There was something grim that the very first sounds it was to hear with its tapering draconic ears had to be the laboring heart and pained grunts of their once friend.

She, as the dragon had decided some time ago while it was still a glorified eldritch plushie, was having difficulty fighting the Thief. Not simply because they were a formidable opponent. Which was only truth for a certain value of formidable. And not just because she was entirely unused to this new and amazing body but, because this was not the fight she had imagined.

Leaping through the air, she caught the Thief’s boot in her maw and bit down. With a flick of her great neck she flung them back into the clearing. She had imagined fighting the Warrior like this, not as though she hated him at all, but she certainly didn’t care for him as much as the strange creature that smelled of potions and leather.

The earth churned under her feet as she stalked about the edge of the clearing.

The Thief, that treated her kindly.

Desperately clambering back up to their feet, speaking in that cocky, funny voice.

The Thief, that would pet her back.

She recalled the last time the Sorceress had stroked her back the way they had. Decades of interceding time came to mind. And that was another new feeling, memories all bubbled up in front of her real as they had never been before when her mind was made of unfired clay. Certainly, she had felt before when she was a sorceress’ familiar, but it was all so much bigger now. It was all so real, just as real as she was, and it was frightening.

Something pinged off of her scaly back and into the trees, she blinked out of the reverie and hissed. The Thief was saying something cheeky and shrugging helplessly, then a turn of the heel and off again they ran. Thin metal things fell from their hands, as she chased she glanced at them. They were darts perhaps? Magically enhanced darts? Those were ancient, she recalled, the Thief was running low of cantrips.

And they were getting tired. The Thief stumbled over roots and stones, losing their lead almost immediately.

She stretched legs, the intersection of equine and feline, and leapt over the obstacles that confounded The Thief.

The landing was heavy, great draconic paws crushing the ground at either side of the Thief’s head as her bulk forced the rest of their body to the ground. They twisted up under her, pulled a fist back, and punched her across the jaw.

Shocked, the dragon stared down at them.

Panting, the Thief did not pause, and swung with their other fist. Somewhere below a knee wildly connected with her stomach. In truth, she was not a massive house sized dragon of legend. She was only a mite more than above average size for a human, tiny for a dragon though even this was exponentially bigger than her previous size.

Another hiss, and she brought talons down upon Thief’s face. Again, another shock, the Thief caught her at the wrist with one hand and, violently shaking with the effort, kept it held there in the air.

She could simply reach down with her teeth and tear their neck out. It would be easy, occupy their other hand, then simply do it. They could never budge their whole bulk; their strength will give out. But they continued to stare down at the Thief, at their face streaked with grass stains and blood. Recoiling somewhere in their mind from it, some part that was still a strange little monster that road on their shoulders, she hesitated.

The Thief hurled their other hand up at the dragon’s head, sand and grit splashing against the side of her face. Had it not been for the second eyelids she had acquired with her change, this would have been an effective maneuver. In the circumstances, it only resulted in a rumbling growl. The dragon brought her other paw down on the Thief’s face, talons curled in like the blades of a plow.

She refused to let this go, to stop being this beautiful, real, living creature. How could the Thief understand this feeling? How could anyone feel all of these new emotions, larger than anything she had known before. Pain and anger, the strain against the Thief’s potion enhanced strength. Fear at the thought of losing this, the possible despair. Even considering the possibility made tears form at her eyes, the first she’d ever shed, so huge was the concept of loss to one new to the world.

Only having what she had always desired could give this feeling, this sudden rush of conviction. And still she wept, because her friend would not concede. Nor could she fathom how to work her body into asking them to do so. They had fought too hard to give up now, and with each moment her talons crept closer to the Thief’s face. They won’t give up, she knew it, dragon sized tears pooled and fell from the curling frills of her cheeks. The gobs of it smacked the Thief’s collar bone.

Something fleshy gave under the weight of her paw and it suddenly shot forward. Many things happened in the span of a moment.

Her talons penetrated the Thief’s eye, sliding through as easily as a knife through jelly.

The Thief did not cry out, instead their jaw set tight as they returned the dragon’s stare. A steely composure she had rarely ever seen in them was etched there.

She felt an eyelid flutter against her paw and she began to pull away, sudden revulsion working its way up her gut.

Phantasmal earth below them shimmered, and the Thief’s body fell through it from under her.

Watching, dumbstruck, she saw the Thief turn in the air and heard words half lost to their fall. After some time, their magic broom soared up under them and caught them. Their body thumped into it, a flailing of limbs connected with the length of timber and curled around it tight as it shot off and out of sight.

The Dragon watched this all occur, feeling ocular humors trickle down her talons and along the lines of her palm. She dropped her paw to the earth and ground the oily wetness into it. Then, slowly, they lowered their body to the ground as well. Trembling, the entirety of what had just happened flooded into them just as the old memories had.

She’d hurt the only person that was ever kind to her, maimed them, and driven them away.

All that was left now was the Sorceress.

She wept, with what she felt was the complete assurance of knowing no one would ever call her Boa again. If she ever felt affection it would only be because she had become useful again and only now did she truly understand how lonely that existence had been and would be for her.

***

A illusory sending floating over the phantasmal grounds of the test. There wasn’t much time before the whole scene evaporated, and her familiar was not responding to her instructions. She had lost track of it completely after it had made its wish. This was deeply concerning for her, she had assumed it would maintain its link even after the change. When she found it her feeling was of mixed relief and confusion.

It was sobbing in a patch of crabgrass, wings over its head and trembling.

The peculiarity of the situation was enough to make the Sorceress pause, but this only lasted a moment before her sending moved to the dragon’s side and spoke.

“Familiar, there is work to be done. Get up.”

After what felt like an age, when time was at a premium, the dragon uncurled a wing and looked up at her. She was unsure if the red around its yellow sclera was normal or not. It was not in any way a usual breed of dragon with colors like that. Her sending placed a hand on her hip and the other pointed up at the great column of clouds.

“Ambrosia…? Do you not recall your instructions? Fly up there and collect it, you have to be quick and learn the use of your wings before this land evaporates.”

The Dragon stared at her, then up at the clouds.

“An- bo-si-a”, it managed with some effort.

“Yes.” Said the Sorceress’ sending.

“Make sure you collect enough for yourself as well. You will need the strength to survive both the journey there and back to the ground…”

“We really do not have time to linger, this is our only chance, do you understand...?”

She couldn’t tell if this was sinking into the dragon’s head, but it reared up with aching slowness. It looked at the Sorceress again, then up at the sky.

It squinted.

#fantasy #dragon #nb character #transformation #D&D #TestofMettle

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