#coal reads the birds that fly at dusk

[lepertamar]

absolutely OBSESSED with this forest-spirit-kin mentioned in like one page of this book. ‘i had a sister once.....’

[imagine-loki]

Till We Meet Again

TITLE: Till We Meet Again

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 18/?

AUTHOR: marvelgirlonamarvelworld (side blog)

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki being mesmerized by a girl whose eyes remind him of the Bifrost

Imagine that Loki would visit you when you were a child, persuading you into mischief and cheering you up with his magic tricks, you assumed he was imaginary. 

RATING: M

NOTES/WARNINGS: angst, whump, language, not much really. Just a transition chapter

A/N 2: Alas! a new chapter! So I decided to merge a one-shot I’ve been working on with this new chapter. Thank you all for reading!!! I deeply, truly appreciate it :’) as always, feedback’s appreciated!!

-

Clouds.

    Alabaster gaseous matter formed with every trembling exhale. A ghastly thing that soon withered to a dark null. One which became part of the cold nothingness the fallen Icarus prince found himself surrounded by. 

    Cold damp stone met his aching palms. If once such low temperatures had no stir to his being, now it sent pangs and jolts through his blood. The bitter cold seeped through his pores and into his decaying soul. 

   The fallen prince, with his innocent eyes now bloodshot, endeavored to push himself from the damp floor yet his strengths betrayed his crippling will. Right away his torn gold-plated chest hit the cold ground as all air inside his lungs was no more.

    “Allfather…” he sobbed, failing to swallow the lump, as a loose tear allied with his weakness, “Father…why have you abandoned me?” The single pearl of salt danced down his cheek while his stare remained on the black stone ground; while his hands continued to struggle to at least be on his knees. “Why…” his ghastly face contorted. Another lament betrayed his lost facade of vain and might. “Why have you left me, father? Why have you abandoned me, mother?”

    His words still echoed. The resounding ‘No’ before letting go. Yes. Before letting go. 

    Loki had fallen. Fallen so suddenly, so haltingly, so briskly, so gracefully. 

   Unmade in the process, his broken body and exhausted mind traveled through space, journeyed through time.

   Fell and landed on a field of cold and clouds and shadows. Of watching eyes whose bodies remained embraced by the darkness. Of distant screams and wails enticed by mistress torture. 

    What a misfortune. 

   Another moan ripped away from his throat. One which became a breath of strength to his soul.

   Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, his palms pushed his body off of the ground. Yet his arms did not move at all. Nothing happened, his body remained prostrated. Loki could not feel his limbs, could not feel the rest of his body at all. His body was numb. Dormant from the fall.

    And his blue lips quivered. Trembled as a ragged wail burned his throat followed by hiccups and suffocating sucks of air. His forehead pressed against the cold stone ground. “I could have done it…I could have done it. I could have done it.”

    His head remained bowed down, tears blurring and blinding his sight; facing the grim ominous dirt embodying his downfall and misery; letting loose trembling strands of coal hang and stick to his forehead while his decaying body broke in ripples of sweat that frostbit his bones.

    The young prince cried, sobbed and trembled before the black starless sky; before curious eyes guarding and waiting. Fisted the dirt, tasted his own blood, heeded the distant cries and screams caressing his spine, recalled it all yet ignored it all. 

    “I could have done it…” his jaw clenched and ached. The pounding inside his head bloomed and magnified it all through his body. 

   Once again he was nothing.

   Loki had no wings. No form to soar high into the night. Poor thing, they’d been clipped, plucked mercilessly. Left his bare back bleeding raw. And it would only get worse from there onward, yet he knew not of that at all.

    But it mattered naught either. 

   For his claws remained sharp. As sharp as his silver tongue was. As swift as diamonds cutting through glass. Blood forged. Disappointment sharpened. Ready to be drawn. Anxious to slash. Hungry to bury themselves in the ferrous fine crimson wine. 

    For many names he’d been called. And relentless was one.

    With every movement and flection, his bones trembled. With every weary heartbeat, his strength almost gave in. But now he was sat against a pillar whose tallness appeared infinite. His reddened eyes could see it all now, crystal clear and realized…death was lurking about.

    His eyes drifted to the void space, deep down hoping to notice a sign. A raven flying through the gray clouds, a flash of light contrasting with the black, a shooting star…even a spark of colors resembling those of an opal though he didn’t know why. 

    “He…Hei…Heimdall…” Loki called upon the watcher and protector of the realm he’d known as his homeland. “Heimdall.” Hope tainted his hoarse voice. “Open the Bifrost…” another tear allied with fright and rolled down his pale sunken cheek. “If you can hear me. If you can…see me. I beg you bring forth the Bifrost.”

    All noise withered down to a hum. And like a child anxiously awaiting to wish upon a rain of shooting stars, Loki continued to gaze up to the night with his heart thumping and his mind buzzing, already imaging the familiar blinding flash. 

    “Please…”

One heartbeat.

    Two heartbeats.

    Three heartbeats. 

    Space remained black.

    “Heimdall?” His hand raised to grasp the distant night and swallowed his pride and continued to call. “Mother? Please forgive me.”

    It was a matter of patience, had to wait, Loki told himself still clinging to the thinning thread. After all, he was far from home, lightyears away from all known, a million heartbeats away where he belonged.

    Yet the waiting was never-ending.

    Minutes lost their shape, elongated and transitioned to countless bitter cold nights. 

    Loki was alone, forgotten, weakened and helpless. Easy prey, the crawling thing. And he couldn’t help but squirm and weep silently from the fear.

    His head remained against the pillar and wept his strength away as the shadows danced and took form. “Please…somebody…”

    Oh, how he wished his seidr reserves did not empty, did not waste away in healing all that which could not be remedied. To have enough magic to create a little white bird, a beautiful rarity, to send smeared in his blood with a message within its bones. A sign, a feathered warning…to not be forgotten.

    “Please,” Loki closed his eyes, already sensing foreign stares peer upon as distant bickering reached his ears. “Please. I pray to thee. Allfathers rejoicing in paradise Valhalla, have mercy on me. I beg please, hear my plea.”

    Loki wished to open his eyes, desired to acknowledge his future captors stalk towards him with snarling creatures prowling beside. Yet the overbuilt exhaustion, the suffocating stillness of the disappointing nights forbade him to; the resurfacing screams and uproars of disembodied suffering voices triggered his self-preserve mode. And thus he sought refuge in his mind. Retrieved to the safe heaven where he would remain intact, safe from it all till his strengths came back. 

    Loki allowed himself to be carried by them, to his downfall, to his unmaking and reshape. Allowed his body to be kidnapped against his racing heart and screaming conscience. For even he obeyed his instincts, his fighting would be futile.

    Yet his racing mind was quieted upon the shrieking BOOM! of thunder striking the land…

    “Argh!”

    Loki sat upright, mad thumping heart against the back of his wide eyes, his throat drowned in hushed sobs and hiccups. He was nothing but a trembling creature; heaving frightened to death, clinging to nothing but his deceiving head.

      “Thor?” He called for his brother.

    Alabaster clouds still danced about before vanishing into furniture in the blink of watery eyes. And Loki couldn’t help but shakily exhale upon realizing his conscience’s own deceivings. It had been a dream. A nightmare.

    His eyes wandered on further, not trusting his own convictions, afraid this too was a dream within a dream. Though he realized he was in the same place he had been yesterday; sitting on the couch, with Luna’s sketchbook on his lap, downstairs..waiting.

    Yes. Loki was truly there! The living room was where he headed after the shocking discovery; where he impatiently waited for Luna’s return yet she never did.

    Oh, dear gods! He was safe, away from the gates of hell.

    Dusk crept through the windows. Clouds covered the skies.

    Had he really slept his day away? His floating ponder made him blink multiple times before standing and stretching. He winced at the cracks of his bones and stings on his back; the position he’d drifted to slumber wasn’t the most comfortable, and neither was Midgardian clothing.

    Like muscle memory Loki flicked his hand, expecting for the light to flicker to life; completely forgetting the nothingness he’d been left with until darkness prolonged. Disdained, he pursed his lips and made his way to flick the switch on himself.

    Much to his disdain, he had not much to do but continue on with the wait. It was exasperating, the silence was too loud yet too quiet at the same time. He could not leave and roam around for his only shield was this home. Step out that door and most likely he’d be detected by the world; by the Allfather if not by Heimdall. And he could not allow that. His whole plans revolved around his apparent death.

    The big reveal was not due yet.

    Shivers rippled through his spine, traveled through every nerve, swam away in his veins as he walked up the stairs, as the flash of his nightmare played before his glare. It was sickening to remember. A nightmare.

    Now that irrational side on him lost appealing. 

    His limbs went limp and froze in front of Luna’s bedroom door, cursing himself between hisses and ragged breaths. Oh the grand epiphany that’d fallen upon himself.  He’d been an idiot. A fool.

    Snapping from his dawning, Loki pushed the door and meandered through the dark and into the bathroom. 

    Ah, glutton. Bit more than he could chew. 

    He wondered how she was. He hoped that Luna would soon return. Having her away from him made him uneasy, rendered his conscience to grow loud with reproaches and worries for failing to protect her as he’d vowed to do so if something happened.

    Loki knew the apology was imminent although he’d pledged against it. Never say never, however. Should’ve known better. If Loki wished her to not leave, that was the remedy; one which was not enough. He knew Luna like the back of his hand, thus acknowledging he’d have to do much than simply ask for her pardoning. 

    Clothes lay neatly folded by the sink, and soon the tiled space was fogged by crystal mist from the warm artificial stream.

    His built figure stood there under the warm embrace of the water, silent, glistening thus enunciating his paleness and markings; at peace yet in an anguishing haze. Loki’s mind kept dwelling between past, present, and future bearings with the scepter being a common denominator.

    Yet he’d managed to bury it all, to forget in order for his nightmares to cease hunting again. It’d been nights, days, weeks since he’d dreamt a bad dream. Yet…There was no room for coincidence, no loose strings, nothing; that after discovering his scepter lay at arm’s length all ghosts from the past fluttered to life.

    The soft scent of blooming flowers danced through his nostrils just as the foam on his body washed away by the clear stream. Somehow, also carrying away part of his ailing. 

    The artificial rain ceased. Refracting beads of water rolled through his naked chest and fell from his raven hair as a white towel covered his lower half. The cool tiles against his feet sparked goosebumps to race along his spine.

    Again he walked from the light into the dark. And a sudden flash of a memory surfaced before his eyes, perhaps a second epiphany, of him as a child once frightened by the lack of light. Always seeking the comforting warmth of his mother’s arms.

    Oh, how Loki missed Frigga, and wondered…was she aware of his apparent death? Had she mourned as little as the Allfather or as much as his brother had presumably done?

    Funny how his fear became his comforting mantle from the scorching lights, from the true enemies disguised as lambs.

    Shadows took form and elongated as Loki reached the closet and opened it. A pair of jeans and a black tee were his outfit. 

    He wondered now when Luna had purchased them, or to whom this changes of clothing belonged to in the past. Yet he made no fuss of it as the soft fabric slipped against his scarred flesh; unbeknownst to him, inner jealousy had already been irked by it regardless.

    Trailing back to turn off the light of the bathroom, his foot stumbled against a soft surface that soon slid across the floor and laid by the doorframe. Right away his emerald glare discerned it was a book.

    Surprise incarcerated his breath in the confinements of his chest as he picked up the familiar worn out hardcover and peered at it in detail. Musky green. Torn out edges. The familiarity of the runic scripture on the spine of it made his heart stop beating right before speeding mad.

    Who knew of all places Loki had searched for his favourite book of spells, which he had lost years ago, he would come to find it in this home? Of all places! What were the odds?

    The odds, however, were the little girl he had once befriended.

    “Little thief,” Loki muttered and smiled warmly.

-

Meanwhile,

Somewhere in the outskirts of New York City.

    “Nothing?” The sound of silence vanished by Matt’s ponder from across the table. His voice was no more than sound waves sheathed by pure boredom, and borderline exasperation intensified by the many rounds of caffeine ingested through the over twenty-four-hour fruitless searches. 

    “Nada,” Luna responded while rubbing her eyes and drowning out a yawn. The computer screen displayed in a hideous yellow font at the center of the screen a ‘No Match’ sign which made her mentally roll her eyes. Of course she would find nothing.  Political high ends would have interest but not the guts to steal the suitcase from the tower. 

    “Are you sure?” He asked from across the table with his face hiding behind the laptop screen.

    “Yes.” Luna groaned as the blinding white lights from the ceiling glared and reflected on the thick glass covering the wood beneath it.

    Stalling while incriminating the world was easy. Annoying but easy. Mantled her with the illusion of past normalcy, a mirage of how things used to be.

    No doubt Matt believed her words; although, the discrepancy he’d found her at home and not at the Tower was quite startling. All in all, on the other hand, Luna had some Loki in her, no doubt some of his trickery was bound to stick; make a fool think the sky is green when in reality…it is neither blue nor green.

    “I’ve gone through every file, nothing stands out, no solid match,” Luna made eye-contact with Matt. “But I don’t doubt the possibility it might have been one of these people. I mean, if what you say is true that whatever’s inside that suitcase is worth so much…” she snorted and hand gestured to his once upon a time friend, “it could’ve been any of the people we’ve played. Any who realized they were double-crossed by us.”

    “But nobody knew this intel,” Matt replied and brushed his hair back exasperatedly. “Our circle is tight, Luna. We’re a small group. And we’re running out of time.”

    Her eyebrows creased and fell silent momentarily. Luna was meticulously working her angle, but Matt was no idiot. And that made the game all the more difficult.

    Apparently, the so-called client/engineer had handed him a deadline. Yet Luna was more than aware it was them, the ones at the higher ranks of the chains. They were breathing down his neck.

    “Hey, we’re not the only ones who play underground,” said Luna while sipping from her cold-brewed coffee before freezing her actions and quickly lowering the cup from her lips; the memory of just where she was and with whom placed her cautious side on high alert. “We’re not the only ones who break the rules to get what we want, Matt. Regardless whether it is for the good or bad.”

    Luna watched as Matt scratched his chin, deep in thought while she studied his sun-kissed features. 

    To her, there were no indications the order to have her killed came from him. The car accident was not his doing. As belittling as it sounded in her head, the brown-eyed was no more than a pawn, a disguise. And she couldn’t help but pity the idiot.

    Unbeknownst to her unconscious, she was excusing his doings against her by telling herself the retrieval of those traffic cams were just orders from above. Call it fear to loose yet another somebody or denial to acknowledge his betrayal. 

    A chuckle disrupted the momentary silence in the small conference room the two had been in since yesterday; catching up on things, though Luna knew it was all half-truths. His focus was now on her face whose exhaustion was reflected in the unusual paleness and clouds on her eyes. 

    “What is it?” He said.

    “I think we’re making a big deal out of this,” Luna fiddled with the pulsing opal hanging from the delicate silver chain around her neck. As much as the thumping took her aback, for the stone had never done such thing before, she pushed the nagging thought aside. “What if it was SHIELD all along, which for some reason, moved the suitcase and we’re here like idiots searching for nonexistent ends?”

    “It wasn’t them.”

    Luna’s smile faded away upon the echo of an accentuated third voice in the room. And her stomach sunk as she turned to face the entrance, at the far right, where two familiar figures stood.

    This wasn’t good.

    This was so not good.

    Luna was a gaping fish. Wide-eyed and barely mustering a stuttered ‘long time no see’ as a greeting towards the two that’d tried to take her out. The twins.

    The two were a mirror with a slightly altered reflection of one another. Wanda’s expressive round eyes contrasted very much with Pietro’s downturned glare. It was one of the few differences between the twins, aside from the obvious ones such as height and dye of hair.

    The hushed unintelligible whispers were soon to make themselves present as the ginger tried to glimpse inside her mind.

    “Luna,” Wanda greeted her and smiled a smile which did not reach her eyes where her annoyance waltzed. “Good to see you’re back! And I still cannot read your mind…”

    Pietro, on the other hand, was a stark contrast to the stiffness of his twin. Somehow he seemed laid back, more so than before; acted like one of those foolish casanovas who would oftentimes get the girl with every twirl of his boasts and jokes. Eccentric quicksilver who had once caught her eye once upon a time. 

    He was good at disguising his emotions.

    “Luna,” Pietro grinned and winked.

    Idiot, Luna thought as her eyes drifted to Matt.

    “I called them in to help after the accident,” Matt explained, blatantly noticing her surprise before turning to the twins. “Please tell me something good you two.”

   Matt drifted his attention to the twins who shared a serious glance between them, no words were spoken but that of their telling eyes. Such action which Luna could only define as a quirk of theirs for their silence was quite nerve-wreaking. 

    As if they hid something, knew something Luna was oblivious of. And in her overbearingly hyperactive and paranoid mind, their silence foretold nothing yet everything. And if it was the latter, to flee from the chaos that would ensue would be difficult.

    One to three was not a good ratio.

    “All we can tell you is SHIELD did not move the suitcase,” Wanda deadpanned, thus shutting any possibility to lead the search in another direction.

    “How are you so sure?” Luna dumbly asked. She already knew the answer.

    Wanda glanced at her with that same twinkle of annoyance towards her person. “Because I read their minds, saw them.  Every single one. Even your so-called friends’.”

    Luna did not know how to react. Her face could only be described as a poem whose allegory was too difficult to understand. For although she knew that’d be the ginger’s answer it still surprised her the staggering hatred dripping within her statement. 

    Then the shocking question Luna had failed to ask herself about the twins struck her with might: Why? Why agree to carry out the dirty work for them? Why? How grand was the reward for carrying out such a thing? Why?

    Luna blinked once, twice, thrice hoping the sudden surface of anger and perplexity withered from burning her chest. “Excuse me, what?”

    The jester twin standing beside the ginger huffed and chuckled, crossed his arms as those silver eyes twinkled with amusement. Pietro was reliving a memory.

    “Okay,” Luna tilted her head and rested her right palm on the cold surface of the table. A nervous smile formed on her face as she tried to maintain that annoying facade of obliviousness. “Is this what you mentioned to me on our way here? That something went down over there but things got a little out of hand?”

    “Yeah,” Matt nodded and gestured with his hand. “That’s what I was talking about.”

    “Well, what exactly happened?” Luna questioned.

    “In short…uh,” Pietro stepped in, “Matt sent us to the tower, told us the suitcase was in the lower levels, we searched…and searched and searched,“ the silver-haired pointed out, keeping count with his fingers, “and found nothing. Then Wanda decided to change tactics buuuut…”

    “Please tell me you didn’t bring out the Hulk,” Luna’s eyes squinted and pursed her lips. Deep down squirming at the memory of the green giant and his eyes with a ring of scarlet. The amount of suffering, desperation, anger, and fear reflected in them haunted the corners of her memory to this day.

    Luna pitied the giant as much as she feared his fury. She wondered how Bruce was doing…

    “Okay. I did not think through my idea,” Wanda nodded and pursed her lips. “But I was not planning on leaving that tower without information. Now would you like to know what I saw in your friend’s head as I was searching for a lead?”

    The wicked grin plastered on the witch’s face made all Luna’s hairs stand on end. 

    “Thor?” She mumbled. The blond’s name pierced her chest. Her truer friend. The one she betrayed far before it all had gone to hell. 

    And thinking about it…Luna concluded she deserved all the shit raining down on her for stabbing an individual with pure intentions. 

    “I…I don’t think…,” chills and sparks caressed and clawed her spine as it planted the seed of discord; the bloom of curiosity.

    “Or I can show them to you,” Wanda offered with a twinkle in her eyes as the familiar murmurs in Luna’s head took force. “See for yourself his fears.”

    To lose you, his friend. Oh, and how much jealousy! To see you have no eyes for him!

    Luna closed her eyes and sighed, holding back, hiding it all in the depths of herself. Yet the pangs and clenches of her heart made swallowing the lump of guilt painstakingly difficult. And it was no help the ire of fire, towards Wanda and her own self, scorching her bones to brittle stone.

      Her lips curved and opened her eyes, forcefully showing a smile through her annoyance while shutting her mind. “I think I’ll pass. There are far more important tasks at hand right now, right Matt?”

    “True,” the brunet shook his head absentmindedly, thumb holding his child and curled pointer finger against his lips. Deep in thought. “But now that we’re mentioning him, when was the last time you two spoke?”

    “We haven’t talked since I went home, why?” Luna spoke right away. Perhaps too quick for her sake. Lying still remained somewhat of a weakness for her.

    Unlike Loki…but that was another matter on hold. Luna didn’t let his memory cave in for the remainder of the time being. Not yet.

    Matt remained silent, and so too the twins who sat three chairs away from him. His eyes were half-lidded as if to discern between an image blurring by the distance, thinking, planning.

    “I thought he’d be mother-hening you these two days,” Matt acknowledged. “Has he tried to get in touch with you?”

    “No?” Luna answered. “Before I left he said they were shortly leaving for a mission but didn’t tell me when they’d come back. I just figured he was still on that mission to this day, but I guess not.” Luna crossed her arms and puckered her lips while reclining against the desk chair. “Now with the whole mind-reading thing and whatever else went down…I doubt he’ll have the time.”

    And it’s not like Luna would be able to anyway. After all, Thor and the others had suspicions she’d gone missing. That she was taken by those that’d upraised hell on the tower.

    Matt locked eyes with Luna as his hand rested on the table, “I think you should call him. Keep in touch. Don’t go awol on him for too long.

    “You think my silence would raise suspicion?” Luna cocked her brow curiously. Although she already knew Thor wouldn’t bring her name to question.

    “Not necessarily,” Matt said, “but I want to rid of the possibility anyway. You’re our front still. Their distraction and our insider.”

    Luna tilted her head ever so slightly, mentally refusing what Matt was proposing. “Right.”

    “What the hell, you know what?” Matt jerked his head and hand gestured, “Why don’t you call him now? The sooner the better.”

    Luna bit the inside of her cheek as the desire to laugh in his face grew. If he only knew she could not…

    Trying to get in touch with him was a resonant ‘NO’. Not only because Mr. Nosy Laufeyson had declared they now relied on the element of surprise, but also and most importantly because Luna had no face to ever look Thor in the eye anymore. Guilt now forbade her from doing so.

    “Well. I don’t have a phone. It got destroyed. You know…in the accident.” Luna stammered. 

    She watched as Matt reached for his back pocket and placed a phone on the table and slid it across. Its screen already unlocked by his fingerprint, already waiting for the number to be dialed. “You can use mine.”

    Luna stared at the device. “Matt…” she reproached.

    What the hell was Matt and the twins playing at? Luna wondered. 

    Was this some kind of test? She asked herself.

    “Tony won’t be able to trace it back.” He asserted and smiled. “Call him.”

    “Don’t you think they’d be a little busy right now,” Luna questioned yet it was no more than an excuse of refusal in disguise.

    Matt huffed and silently chuckled, “Luna, it’s you who’s calling. He’ll definitely make time.”

    Luna parted her lips, hesitating, feeling all stares on her and making her a helpless child again. Small, frail little girl. 

    The defeat was inevitable. To do as he said was the only way and Luna was more than aware. To continue building up to excuses would bring no good end but that of being discovered. 

    Thus, with cold sweaty palms, and feeling the opal pulsating faster, she reached for the mobile and dialed the number she’d memorized before raising it to her ear.

    The beeps were soon replaced by an all too familiar robotic voice, JARVIS, who solicited her name and whom she desired to communicate with.

    “Thor Odinson,” Luna responded as her eyes focused on the darkness of the table while she waited for the three familiar beeps. Usually, when she called, that was how long it took the Norse god to reach the phone an answer.

    This time, however, there was nothing but one single beep. Right away his gruff voice showered her ears which made her heart rattle inside her rib cage.

    “Luna?! Is that you?!” His voice tainted with hope and weariness. “Luna?”

    And all Luna could do was bite her tongue. Swallow the lump. Stop herself from ending the call and throwing the phone before breaking down. 

    The desperation in his voice was too much. A stab, a strike to her soul. Tainted it black.

    “Hey… it’s me.” Luna built up enough courage to speak and hid her heartbreak behind a weary smile for the prying eyes. Hid all her ailings behind a voice of normalcy, a pitch higher. 

    A broken sigh echoed through the line. And Luna could already imagine the glassy baby eyes and broken smile on him.

    Luna wished to say ‘I’m sorry’. To confide in him just as he’d done before with her. To tell him he was the only one who had been true, honest, pure. Yet cowardice and her alliance made her repeat the same thing:

    “It’s me.”

.

.

A/N2: this story is flopping but I am determined to finish it regardless!

[skelosfangs]

Warrior cat Generator (2.0 ver.)

So if you’re one of my earliest followers you may remember i did something like this a few years back, well i decided to bring it back because i was bored, and I had lots of fun with this sooo…

here are my results btw:

My name is kindleice and im a loner who was a former deputy that was exiled for reasons and from a clan i won’t speak about, im a long furred gray tabby with amber eyes, battle scars and a nicked ear.

Bold your results:

Afiliation: What month were you born in?

january-february: Thunderclan.

march-april: Shadowclan.

may-june: Windclan.

july-august: Riverclan.

september-october: Skyclan.

november-december: Other_________

Rank: How many warriors books have you read (mangas, guides, super editions, etc…)?

70+: Starclan warrior,

60+: Leader.

50+: Deputy.

40+: Medicine cat.

30+: Elder.

20+: Warrior/Queen.

10+: Apprentice.

1+: Kit.

Pelt color(base): What’s your favorite kind of weather?

Rainy: black  Cloudy: grey  Sunny: ginger/red  Snowy: white  Windy: brown  Partially coudy: golden/cream.

Markings: What’s your favorite arc? (can be more than one).

Dawn of the Clans: Colorpoint.

Prophecies Begin: Tabby.

New Prophecy: Spotted tabby.

Power of Three: White patches.(if already white, then patches of any other color)

Omen of the Stars: Tortieshell. (base color + red/black accordingly)

A Vision of Shadows: Other____________

Eye color: Wats your favorite kind of herb?

Catmint: Violet.

Watermint: Green.

Horsetail: Bright green.

Yarrow: Yellow.

Marigold: Amber.

Poppy: Dark amber.

Juniper: Blue.

Borage: Odd eyes (each a different color)

Extras: Have you ever?….

Dawn warriors fan art: long fur.

Written warriors fan fiction: ear tufts.

Made a warriors AMV/PMV: battle scar(s).

Made a warriors OC: Thorn/ear nick(s)

Made a fan clan: short/missing tail.

Roleplayed warriors: missing eye.

Named a pet after a warrior cat: other________

Name: First letter of your name is the prefix and first letter of your last name is the suffix (if you’re a leader, kit or apprentice change your suffix accordingly, you know the drill).

A: apple, ant, amber, ash, antler, adder, aspen, acorn, arch, alder.

B: blue, berry, bracken, bramble, bee, buzzard, black, bright, bounce, bark, boulder, blossom, brindle, badger, beeatle, bird, brich, bat, brown, blizzard, breeze, beech, briar, bristle.

C: cinder, cream, clear, coal, cherry, cloud, cold, copper, cedar, curl, clover, crouch, crow, claw, cricket, clever, chive, claw, cone cypress.

D: dove, dawn, daisy, dark, deer, dusk, dew, drift, dust, dapple, duck, dry, dim, dapple, drizzle.

E: echo, ember, ebony, eel, eagle, egg, ear, eye, eyes.

F: feather, flower, fawn, forest, fall, fly, finch, fire, flame, fern, flint, fox, frost, fallow, freckle, freeze, flowing, ferret, frog, fuzzy, fluffy, fennel, fog, foam, foggy, flower, fin, fish, foot, fur, face, fallen, flight.

G: golden, gorse, goose, gray, green, ginger, grass, grim.

H: holly, hollow, honey, hop, half, hail, heavy, heron, hawk, hay, hare, hazel, heather, heart, hoot, hatch, haven, hickory.

I: ice, ivy, insect, inch.

J: jay, jagged, jump, jaw, juniper.

K: kestrel, kink, kick, kindle.

L: long, lithe, little, lake, leopard, lion, loud, lightning, lily, larch, lark, lichen, leaf, lizard, low, lily, log, leg, leap, light.

M: moth, mallow, minnow, moon, morning, molted, marsh, maple, mist, mole, moss, mud, mouse, milk, mint, mumble, munch, maggot, meadow, marigold, mottle, mask.

N: nettle, night, noisy, newt, needle, nectar, nut, nose.

O: owl, one, oak, otter, olive, ocean, oat.

P: pebble, pickle, pinch, plum, plump, pine, patch, poppy, pear, pounce, pearl, petal, peach, pigeon, pepper, puddle, pool, patch, pelt, pad, pale.

Q: quiet, quivering, quick, quiver, quail.

R: rose, rat, river, robin, red, river, rowan, ragged, running, russet, rock, rolling, rush, reed.

S: snake, silver, slim, slow, sleek, sand, seed, snow, sorrel, squirrel, spotted, spike, speckle, soot, storm, sun, stone, small, spider, song, sweet, swift, shrew, sparrow, splash, shell, sedge, stumpy, starling, stream, sunny, stripe.

T: trout, thunder, thistle, twist, thrush, turtle, tall, tawny, twig, tiny, talon, tiger, toad, torn, thorn, tangle, tail, tuft, tooth, toe.

U: (free to choose)

V: viper, vole, vixen, vine, violet.

W: white, willow, water, wild, wren, wood, worm, wolf, web, whisker, weasel, wet, wasp, woolly, whorl, wave.

Y: yellow, yell, yowl, yawn, yew.

Z: (free to choose)

Reblog/put you results in the tags (you can even add a backstory if you want)!!

[sussex-nature-lover]

Monday 6th April 2020

Identifying Birds

♦ Links shown in bold are not affiliated in any way

♦ Please forgive typos and lapses of concentration

You live and you learn and Birders are very good at helping each other so that we all increase our knowledge by sharing expertise and information. Never be afraid to ask.

Some birds are very easy to identify, think Robin, Magpie, Goldfinch, Pheasant, Woodpeckers, Blackbird (male) and a few more, as good examples. Obviously how many birds you can identify without thinking will depend very much on your environment and experience. You might think ‘err...Pigeon?’ and I might say Wood Pigeon, Feral Pigeon, Collared Dove, Stock Dove because of what I see several times a day, every day.

Here’s the Wildlife Trust’s Guide to identifying birds and the RSPB guide.

I’m far from an expert or even very knowledgeable but the way I go about it is this

♦ Start with what you know and read up, familiarising yourself with information about the bird that might have passed you by. For example,

Robin

Instantly recognisable as adults, they are one of the few species where male and female share the same appearance, Robins develop their distinctive red breast after the first moult. Young Robins have a speckled brown breast but the overall shape and the dark button eyes are there.

Robins are a member of the Thrush Family and as such are closely related to Blackbirds and Nightingales, so they’re good singers and often sing from a visible perch which makes it easy to marry the song and the bird together.

A short lived bird who rarely moves away from the area they were raised in, Robins are aggressive and territorial and can often be seen fighting. They breed prolifically, having two to three broods a year and sometimes more in a good season.

They feed from the hanging fat balls and the ground tray as well as enjoying worms. You will often see them close by if you’re digging the flower beds.

You can start by thinking you don’t know very much and suddenly realise just how many clues you’ve put together even for less recognisable birds.

♦ What kind of habitat are you viewing from? What kind of trees and bushes are around? What natural food sources? Do you have water nearby? (Wagtails like to be near a source of water for example and when they’re here so do Swallows and Housemartins who like to create their nests from mud pellets, usually under the eaves of a building.  You can now purchase ready made nests for them though, to give them a head start. You can also identify the type of birds around by the type of nest they build e.g. Robins, Swallows etc. prefer an open fronted nest. Tits and Sparrows will happily use a nest box.

♦ How does the bird move and how does it feed? Some birds prefer hanging feeders and some are known as ground feeders: some feed from insects and catch them on the wing...Wagtails and Swallows for example.

Some will fly in with a swooping and dipping movement, like the Tit family; some will drop down - for example a Nuthatch. You can often identify the bird from its movements without actually clocking its colours or body shape.

♦ Note overall body shape and beak shape. Is it a sleek or a rounded shape, is the bill streamlined and sharp for catching insects or is it a fulsome but compact  shape to act as a seed or nutcracker device? 

♦ The BTO has some excellent video guides especially the ones which help distinguish to seemingly indistinguishable species, such as Here, the guide to Marsh Tit -v- Willow Tit.

I don’t have a Marsh Tit photograph to hand, but here’s a tiny Coal Tit who was photobombed by a curious Robin at dusk. The Coal Tit is easier to identify due to that white patch on the back of the head.

There are also many guides to birdsong. This one has some beautiful paintings to enjoy too.

I’m sat writing this with the doors open and can clearly hear a Buzzard overhead. I don’t need to go and look, it’s call is so distinctive and once heard, never mistaken.

My own tips for learning to identify bird noises would be:

Once you have a good, clear sound of a bird to listen to, start noting specific parts of the call or song, including:

Pitch: How high or low is the song. How does it vary and change?

Rhythm: Is it a quick song or does it go on at length? Does the tempo  change during the song?

Quality: Can you describe the song, how clear is it and how does it carry? Is it a caw, rasp, whistle, hoot, chirp, or warble?

Quantity: How many birds are singing? Is each song the same or are they distinct? Are the birds singing in tandem or creating a duet as they answer one another?

Is it a Song or a Call that you’re hearing. During Nesting Season you will often hear Alarm Calls if a nest is seen to be in danger. An Alarm Call is very evidently just that.

Another really useful aid to bird and wildlife watching is a decent pair of binoculars. A good pair is well worth saving up for and can last a lifetime.

You Tube Video Link True Fact: Owls all have different kinds of call, some shriek, some hiss. The “too-wit too-woo” Tawny Owl sound is in fact two birds calling. The female’s “ke-wick” answered by the male’s “ooo-ooo-ooo”

[lepertamar]

man the 2nd book, the birds that fly at dusk, has SUCH A GOOD TWIST AND THIRD BOOK SETUP.......cannot vouch much for the ‘story’ but the like 5 or 6 chapters worth of worldbuilding new-info that did reveal did havw me highlighting/annotating-every-other-sentence, mic-drop stuff......i’m still trying to figure out how to put down my ideas in a post lol. also the polyamory setup was Sexy.....

[gets distracted to an isolated loop in this thoughttrain] can’t believe a fanart(+caption) of tamar had the same effect on me irl as seeing a person with a burned-away tongue had on tamar in canon.....it’s sooooo cute to be the kind of person who is Dangerously Contagious to be seen by others!!!! lol

wow my heart isbfull of character...her.

few posts ago i wrote:>

(there’s holies who are also theurgists, but probably there’s a large proportion who feel that no manifestation would ever declare their soul as much as doing their life acts while burnt and priced would). and the teasing effect — showing implications, the visible scar-echo-memory of something someone once did and knew in secret

this is me-like....i THINK i have said it like this a couple months ago but: a verb......a verbing-of!.....this is also what tamar is, and this is what!! G-d is!!!! too!!!! she is like unto G-D. (though***) but anyway G-d’s soul + theurgy manifestation of Their soul is more a verb than a noun and maybe kinda of, a verbED? also? To Be (verb), and To Be Known (verb), more like Holies’ souls than regular theurgy. becuz there’s 2 rdescriptions of G-d’s soul from the second book that are kind of paradoxically centered around creating the conditions of existence on Their part or others’:

and

new worldbuilding concepts mainly are (spoiler):

 that there are other gods possible other than G-d, the ones who are known so far are HUMANS....as a quality of their soul + self-understanding as one. but g-d doesn’t know this and almost no one has been able to contemplate or theorize the concept of this being possible yet

which is the COOLEST hook for the third book ever specifically becuz of the way the definition of it gels with/is contingent on the very intensely elaborated on idea of souls/being identifiable to yourself (which i shall just say destroys the narrow definitions even more so if the author has the guts to admit it i am gonna be THRILLED.....lucifer would probably be so BIG triggered/maybe wind up refusing to understand it)

the fact that NOTHING about the ways it’s described is like.....‘a god is is a Powerful Entity Different From Humans’ but ‘humans can be/become gods becuz a god is the self-definition of a God and Being-Becoming’ is like!!! idk the book explains it in as many words as it would take me lol so idk. ANYWAY from above ***i DO NOT think tamar is a god, she seems like the reflective opposite, the mirror that shows a god’s soul, becuz her soul declares truths about immensity and knowingf, the way i quoted myself. but the ill-fitting haunting defiance that causes the holies to warp and break the first book’s Neat description of theurgy that makes people refuse to follow through on thinking about them (demonstratively so in the two books so far, explicitly so in the short story Stalking And The Glory Of God)....and also definitely DEFINITELY mirrors and foreshadows, (lurking in plain sight with everyone averting their eyes from it), the issue of gods being an type of being there can be multiple of, and not G-d the individual person. i think (hope) lilith might be a god though, queer that categorization lol.

but also it’s definitely one of those things that doesn’t sound as cool summarized by me as it is as written/depicted in the book. becuz i do think one of the biggest strengths of these books is that like. they spend the WHOLE weight and focus point of the books on the stuff that other books are like. ‘this is just a two-paragraph handwave to exposit about how the magic works now onto the plot’ (of course this book also has social worldbuilding that is a disappointing two-paragraph handwave when other books spend many chapters developing but, as a kid i was always like ‘i could read 3 books on the metaphysical implications of this magic!’ and i never got THAT satisfied)

[lepertamar]

have to say that cain would be a much more meaty and potent candidate for the sehhinah lilith role than lilith LMAO. i guess there was some calculations going on about balancing out lucifer (the myth’s) very folk xtian origins and context with the folk jewish (and pre-jewish) figure of lilith or something but hnnnggghhh......the context of cain would work SO well. the atonement the wandering the protective mark the insight into the seed of replicative family violence and immediate refusal to let it spread beyond him by veering into a sort of AU of the genesis narrative by his sheer strength of will........anyway,

[lepertamar]

shriekingf,

there is So Much like............NOT the same, she is not a god i don’t think, no way, becuz she is specifically like g-d the ‘person’?, not g-d the god. i can imagine many holies are nothing like g-d but are besotted with and bound to Them anyway, even specifically AS opposites, but tamar is like G-d, in a particularly resonating way, like if in alterhumanity terms, perhaps g-d as linktype, but not hearttype, not category-kintype, nor category-hearttype, bthis is under a cut becuz this is rushed and undoubtedly at least 80% wrong but but!!!!!!!!!! imitate g-d!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! imitate g-d (specific soul). she is, jewish (lolH). she is Of G-D. she is jewish!!!!!! this is (headcanonically) a jewish character!!!!

[lepertamar]

the description of yairen’s vision of holies in the birds that fly at dusk is INCREDIBLE....it’s so biblical and reads almost exactly like one of the disgusted warning visions of the whoring and debaucheries of evil peoples who must be ejected or scattered mashed together with one of the awe-filled descriptions of g-d smiting those enemies to death with fire pouring from heaven......and it IS, technically, a terrifying warning about What Kinds Of People Do This and What Kinds Of Smiting Happens To Them, like that’s not even a misleading description. like with several other worldbuilding changes to mythology or imagery in these books the change is purely contextual, from the mashed/combined order of operations/reasoning/emotions/knowledge and therefore implications/meaning.

[lepertamar]

paraphrased from discord:

i’m getting more charmed by the new adult-y writing style of sehhinah than i used to be even though i feel a frustrating level of [i could fix this] on flipping through/rereading scenes, but i almost wish it was.....either less like that OR more like that. more like that would be easier AND maybe better. like the tension between the content and style is legitimately a fun feature and it’s growing on me. a lot of the stuff i liked about the first book (the stars that rise at dawn) was in conversation with the genre(s) it’s in was really idk.....meaty in it’s categorical subversion of tropes, even though the execution was very uneven. and i think i’m more and more strongly convinced that what it was in conversation with WAS in fact manga/anime and/or jrpgs, not anglosphere stuff. 

(ok it might have been in conversation with homestuck, but not as much/i’m not as sure)

i mostly i don’t care for the second book (the birds that fly at dusk) as much as the first. i really enjoyed the bits of great conceptual stuff regarding the magic system and underlying philosophy/metaphysics, and big plot setup for the third book that comes up which i LOVED. but the characters/situation/setting ehhhhh not so much. no real oomph. in part because it is more anglo NA-ish (or even a little YA-ish, ugh) rather than manga/anime-ish? like its cast feels more suited to a Typical Fantasy PlotTM than to this series’s MO.

like the first book does a manga/anime type of Thing that’s almost very good, not quite very good, but thick and rich enough to take root and be a whole THING that lives in one’s brain. you know? how there’s stories that do that, a setting, a sequence of scenes and relationships, a time-space chunk from it, becomes a Place In One’s Brain that one can visit again and again. even sloppy ones pull this feat off sometimes, and manga/anime is so extra good at it i think but also do it in an extra specific/recognizable mouthfeel. 

anyway the first book does it, and does it in that mouthfeel! starting from the prologue’s vivid in medias res 20th century-modernity levant desert city setting, then the slice-of-life-ish/casually normalized fantasy elements, and the domino line of casual subversions of slice-of-life and supernatural/paranormal (and some shoujo and shonen) manga/anime tropes but subverted in casual anime-ish ways, close to the way actual anime will subvert it. like the core concept of: “the cool loner member of your childhood friend group who got seduced by a powerful being and ran away to do fucked-up magical stuff cannot be, should not be, and will not benefit herself or anyone else by being, gentled and friended-at and brought back into line and into your group by the Power Of Friendship and childhood promises—in fact the semi-utopian inertness and twee normalization of all the interesting magical elements of your society and of your group’s lifestyle is kind of miserable and deadening, also you were never great friends or knew each other at all in the first place”

 ........the second book is really lacking in place-mind-rooting and vibes like that i think, but the new worldbuilding ideas make up for it some! at least they definitely enrich the first book a lot!

[lepertamar]

absolutely flipping out conversation i had with another person over this quote (which is cooler in the context of this world’s specific worldbuilding details about souls than it would be irl) from The Birds That Fly At Dusk:

them: OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOHHHHHHHHH <333333<span>SOMETHING-OUT-OF-NOTHING

them: Their nature is something out of nothign!! breaking the rules of theurgy! BECAUSE their nature is such that they break the rules of theurgy! god creating by creating others is literally their nature i am ! also the word choice, "inviting to exist"...

me: creating what-is-not-there....making what-is-not-there exist, g-d as who-is-there-who-wasn't-there-before....so not create a soul as much as invite a soul of not-g-d-ness to exist....

me: invite Themself to exist where nothing exists, invite angels to exist where only They exist, invite humans to exist where no humans yet exist....

them: half-formed thoughts: 

 - when you become holy... giving up something... that is in a sense something out of nothing, by burning a part of your body away god is creating a nothingness where They can create something (i.e. Themselves, in a sense) 

 - "inviting to exist".... taken with, "its not right to hold this back", then, god when 'allowed' thrusting souls into the full spectrum of life bc it is all Theirs in a sense and that too is not right to hold back... ... is your life being an argument essentially god asking for constructive criticism :3

me: [...] there’s such a kind of, fill the earth and be fruitful (with your arguments) sort of thing to it, but taking a very different route than jewish g-d

[lepertamar]

ssasome passages of this book are so packed with a bunch of open implications i’m going to scream lol!!!!!! 1) theurgy framed as ‘evidence‘(!!!!!!!!!!) is so perfect aaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!! 2) the difference between evidence of an angel’s birth vs evidence of a holy’s desires 3) G-d apparently absolutely flipped out with glee when They made the first holies 4) an angel evidently having been completely unable to understand why it was a big deal (this same angel later falls to understand what falljng was like) 5) the description of eshva‘s soul as ‘like a storm folded up to fit in a pocket’ is so!!!!!

[lepertamar]

ok here’s a weird thing i totally forgot/didn’t think about:

in the stars that rise at dawn, yenatru is reading a book on theurgy written by the angel israfil, that claims humans can’t change their bodies with theurgy, though they can put manifestations very close to their body, as yenatru does. but, eshva, yairen, that erl-king-kin who was mentioned, and i think others mentioned in chapter quotes? have done flat-out body modding. so......is this just intentionally written misinfo/ignorance, or author mistake? i like the first idea because the quoted passages are written in such a dull way that i basically forgot it, and there Are examples of more clearly intended borderline-misinfo (like the header quote excerpted from a kid’s book describing fallen angels in an offensively twee way right after the chapter wwith lucifer’s harrowing desdescription of falling, and safirah strongly implies that holies are routinely described in horribly mangled and incorrect ways as well).

i think this world is intended to be a utopia and in some ways it is! but.....also in some ways it isn’t at ALL, mostly in this way, where instead of genuine deep acceptance of strangeness or attempts at understanding, things in most in-universe sources are described in gentle soft ways that yes shut down prejudice and oppression pretty hard, but also shut down a lot of other things (this is the unexamined but shadowy lurking root of the first book’s cast’s misery (eliya/yenatru/lucifer/hannusa) or inability to explain their non-misery (tamar), and i think the most likely reason that:

almost no one has been able to self-identify as a god, especially not without being told by someone else, and those who have or know about it (like jibril and the rest of the 2nd book cast) are keeping it a secret from common human knowledge and from g-d and from other angels

[lepertamar]

TRAGICALLY, the endgame/climax/Big Twist of The Birds That Fly At Dusk was SO COOL that it wiped most of the stuff i thought was really lame and boring (interspersed unevenly with other cool stuff) about the first 2/3rds of the book from my mind, i have been checkmated :V i’ll probably flip back through it to remind me of my complaints

[lepertamar]

this book is maybe even more uneven than the last (at least in just these first few chapters.) like.......celyet is 🥺🥺🥺🥺 heartsplitting-beautiful a character, the dense and altogether atmospheric effect of being in her mind!!!!! like in the chapter of her being on her horse, and then ohhhhhhhhhh even more the chapter of her in the coffee shop........!!!!!!!!!!! the soft heavy intensity of her needwant-terror of being Known, of being twisted, the panging pain of it...!

but right between those two is the most pointlessly annoying and superficial chapter from her pov possible?? i don’t get it

[lepertamar]

STARTED THE SECOND SEHHINAH BOOK.....i think i might binge this one instead of liveblogging it though