#crewman-penelope

[fancykraken]

*BOOP* 💖💖💖

[mi6-cafe]

// Hi MI6 Cafe mods.

As a co-captain for team civilian I have a question about a theme day.

We would like to make Saturday 15th a Tenshi day. Tenshi is the former Team civilian member, who died this year.

I would write an post for it on the team civilian Blog for it. And you could reblog it, because Team 00Q and 007 and villain could freely make something too?

Sorry, when I get into the ask, I don't know any MI6 mod to write.

Hi!

I don't know if you have already been talking with Emilia (@emiliasilverova) and Nina (@prismatic-bell) about this, but they were trying to organise the same. Feel free to coordinate with them.

~Lin

[prismasaryn]

[esconognosia]

🌸✨💓THIS IS A TUMBLR HUG! 🧚🏾‍♀️ PASS IT ON AND HAVE A LOVELY DAY! ~♡ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

Aww thank you!! Right back at you!

[poptod]

Hi dear,

Can I ask you what you would think your favourite work of your own fanfic?

good question! hard to say… for midsize fics i feel like i have to say None Like You. longer ones, current reigning champion would be the dead heed no lies, and for short fics i would probably say kamuy-mosir, not because it’s romantically gratifying, but because it actually deals with important questions about the human spirit and religion (: thank you so much for asking!

[crewman-penelope]

007 Fest 2022 Intro Post: Penny

My second year

Tumblr/ao3/slack/discord handle:

Crewman-penelope

Civilian role (nickname) : Gingerfan, retired femme fatale with a liking for the bad guys

What you were doing before being rudely interrupted by an international crisis: Fighting against a headache, while counting my crochet stitches

Favorite snack/drink to have while watching the events unfold:

Coffee, double sweet, double cream

What you're most looking forward to during Fest: Lot's of fanart and fanfiction to read

Let's all have fun!

Penny (she/her)

[angstyandromanticwriting]

« Have some tea», Lyutsifer orders, his voice a warm hum.

The china cup clicks as he set it in front of you on the table. The scent of chamomile and honey touches your nose. Lyutsifer's smile all gentle, his face soften.

« Drink and find some rest. I shall guard your slumber. », he promises.

(get well soon, honey)

[lieutenant-columbro]

Do you think, there is a special Halloween dish Mrs Columbo makes, but Columbo actually and secretly despice? But he eats it anyway, to make the wife happy?

no, i think columbo is pretty much always happy with mrs columbo's cooking - he does pester her constantly to make chili when it's fall time though

[alcordraws]

✨🌈☀️send this to the ten people you’re happy to see every time they pop up on your dash/notif and wish them a good day🌟🌈💥

:D 🍓💞💘💓💘💞

[thunderbirds-showdown]

Which Thunderbirds Are Go episode is better?

Vote on which episode you think is better. Episode synopses below the cut.

Long Haul: Conrad, a young traffic controller makes a slight error, which ends in catastrophe aboard the orbiting Spacehub transit terminal. Alan launches Thunderbird 3 and is able to buy Conrad time, but in the end, the only way to save Conrad is to modify Thunderbird 2 for space transport to replace a vital component of the Spacehub.

Slingshot: A large solar flare causes a malfunction at a mining operation on an asteroid, sending it careening towards the sun and endangering its only crewman, Ned Tedford. Alan and Kayo deploy Thunderbird 3, but another solar flare knocks out their sensors and communications. Although they land in the mine, using the asteroid (now too close to the Sun) as a shield, they soon have to find a way to alter the asteroid's trajectory so that it slingshots around the Sun instead of crashing into it - which is further complicated by the discovery that Thunderbird 3's low fuel supply from the second flare, could make it impossible to return to Earth.

The Man from TB5: Lady Penelope brings John as her guest to a charity event while Gordon and Alan take watch aboard Thunderbird 5. John is out of his element in the large social setting, but his obscurity pays off when The Hood crashes the party.

[j-nipper-95]

WIP Wednesday (because it's still Wednesday somewhere!)

Thank you so much for the tags recently. Even if I've not been responding to them I've been reading what everyone has been working on and it continues to astound me just how wonderfully talented this fandom is. Keep being fabulous, each and every one of you!

Would it really be a WIPsday of mine if I ever posted on time in my timezone?

That's right folks, Trails is back! Edits are happening with the next chapter, which I'm hoping I'll be able to share soon. My team and I are working through edits for chapters about one a week at the moment. I may have to go to bi weekly posting though, as writing has slowed down on the newer chapters. But we shall see. The muses are fickle, and may return to me, one day.

A huge thank you has to go out to my beta team, my friend Zoë (who isn't on tumblr), @artsyunderstudy, @cutestkilla and @iamamythologicalcreature! I couldn't have got this fic back on track without you all!!

But for now, a snippet from the next chapter. Baz POV.

The knife is kicked from my grip and sent flying into the river by a heavy work boot and another crewman drops into the lifeboat. I lurch away, almost back to back with Simon, the crowbar digging into my shoulder. I grope behind me, drawing it from his braces. “Told you it’d come in handy,” Snow smirks. “We’ll have time for ‘told you so’s later.” “Promises,” he purrs. You have no idea, Snow. Crowbar raised over my head, I swing at the newest attacker over the central bench but he deftly steps back out of reach, ducking under my return swing. I cross the bench to keep him on the retreat. He whips his handgun up to shoot but I get a hand around the muzzle and shift his aim. The bullet clangs against the side of the ship and I copy Bunce’s earlier move with the crowbar. I slam it into the man’s wrist and he releases his grip on the gun. My own hand flies open at the impact but I don’t try to fumble for the gun. The splash it makes into the Thames is too faint to make out.  Both hands back on the crowbar I swing for the man’s jaw. The crewman ducks and lunges for my waist grabbing me and knocking me off my feet between the benches. I’m forced to drop the crowbar and shove his face back, thumbs searching for his eye sockets, anything to get him off of me. One of his meaty hands pins my wrist to the bottom of the boat, the other finding my throat.  “Baz!”  Shadows shift as Simon spins, now doubt raising the mattock to attack, but there’s a spray of something warm over me from the other direction. The crewman goes limp in my grip as warm blood trickles down my wrists and beneath my shirt sleeves. Something metal clatters to the floor of the boat as I throw the man’s limp body off of me, and see the wound to the side of his head. Penny’s face is ashen and flecked with the man’s blood. “Penelope Bunce,” I breathe. “Penny, the rope!” Simon’s hand is on my chest gripping my shirt a split second before Penny’s end of the boat drops as the rope snaps. Penny screams and grabs hold of the central bench as Simon helps me sit up. The crewman’s body flops forward and tumbles out of the boat.  “Simon,” Penny calls, pointing over our shoulders. I follow her stare and see the rope Simon had been cutting is almost sawn through as well. More crewmen are shouting above us, seemingly deciding not to bother climbing down the ropes anymore and instead just shoot us from the deck. Hammers cock. A call to take aim. Please, not like this. He doesn’t know how much I love him.

(No pressure) tags for Sunday: @artsyunderstudy @aristocratic-otter @bazzybelle @blackberrysummerblog @bookish-bogwitch @cattocavo @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @cosmicalart @cutestkilla @dragoneggos @erzbethluna @ebbpettier @fatalfangirl @frjsti @henreyettah @hushed-chorus @ic3-que3n @ileadacharmedlife @ivelovedhimthroughworse @krisrix @larkral @letraspal @martsonmars @nightimedreamersworld @orange-peony @prettylightsbigcity @palimpsessed @phoxphyre @raenestee @shrekgogurt @skeedelvee @stardustasincocaine @subparselkie @that-disabled-princess @theearlgreymage @wellbelesbian @you-remind-me-of-the-babe 

[fancykraken]

🌟🌟BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! ONCE YOU ARE GIVEN THIS AWARD YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO PASTE IT IN THE ASKS OF 8 PEOPLE WHO DESERVE IT. IF YOU BREAK THE CHAIN NOTHING HAPPENS, BUT IT'S SWEET TO KNOW SOMEONE THINKS YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL INSIDE AND OUT 🌟🌟

THANK YOU! 💖💖💖

[padawansubscription]

The Refill.

Pairing: lyutsifer safin x gn!reader

Summary: a direct sequel to spilled milk (tea). safin brings you a gift to make up for your loss

Word Count: 1.5k

Notes: power imbalance/the start of a workplace romance (reader calls safin ‘sir’), mention of character deaths, two people mourning their familial losses, reader anxiety in the beginning

A/N: new year, new fic! it’s been ages since i’ve written anything here, so naturally i had to come back with safin. also, feelings are blooming in this chapter?? it’s about damn time 😭 and shout out to @crewman-penelope​ for always tagging me on your sunday safin posts! they’re great reminders that i love this wretched man

as usual, no beta reading. open to feedback! hny y’all!

You don’t like Primo. Sure, you’re no saint yourself, but at least you don’t manhandle people like he did. The man caught you by surprise. One moment, you’re leaving the office. The next, you’re pulled into a dark, mysterious hallway with instructions to follow him.

You were about five minutes in when you finally voiced your confusion. “Where are we going?” Are you going to kill me? Did Safin order this? Because of what happened last night?

He stopped, causing you to run into his back with a light “oomph!” Rubbing your nose, you looked over his shoulder, finding a flight of stairs that led to a dark entryway. If impending doom was an architecture, it'd be this.

“Go.” He stepped aside, gaze cold and void of any indication regarding your circumstance. If anything, he looked irritated.

You took your first step, then your second, before looking back at him. But Primo did little to nothing to ease your mind. With a sigh, you willed your legs to carry you to the very top until...

“Doctor.”

Safin knelt in front of a table. Ever the composed gentleman, he smiled upon your arrival and gestured to that mat on the other side of the table across from him. He held onto a cup of tea, its half-empty content evident of his patience. “Take a seat.”

“Sir,” you returned his greeting and obliged. Your eyes roamed the space around you, taking in its bare form. It felt unfinished, unused. Only the table, mats and lamp occupied the room. The cold concrete covered the walls from top to bottom with the exception of the left wall, which featured a peculiar gaping hole.

“I brought you a gift.” Your attention snapped back to the man on the floor. His smile widened. He almost looked...excited? It was an odd thought. You’ve seen Safin smile before but they were always composed and polite. This was borderline eager in your book. He lifted a cup previously hidden behind the table and—

“Sir. Is that boba?”

“From the very same shop.”

“How did you-? But,” you stuttered. As far as you knew, the island was miles away from any civilization. “Did you go to London today?” You asked, trying to connect the dots in your mind because your boss didn’t travel to London just to get you boba?

"No. Primo did.”

“For a mission?”

“For this.” He pursed his lips, head tilting as he scanned your expression. “You’re upset.”

“No! I- I’m just-,” the words failed to form until you finally exhaled, “I’m just surprised.”

"I see.” His smile remained, but it was tense, not quite reaching his eyes anymore. He slowly retreated his hands, the cup dragging along the table, leaving behind a trail of condensation.

"Wait!” You grasped the cup without thinking, your fingers brushing against his knuckles as you held onto the top. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I’m just...confused and also kind of worried that I may have inconvenienced you over milk tea.”

His eyes dropped to your hand, then back up. “You can just say thank you.”

“Yes. Right. Thank you.”

“You’re very difficult to please.”

“I’ve been told I can be difficult overall,” you chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood. But his frown deepened, and you swallowed hard as brought the drink to your lips. “Again, thank you.”

Holy shit.

One sip was all it took. The flavors hit your taste buds all at once; you’ve forgotten how sweet milk tea can be. The past two years haven’t been bland per se, but they were certainly nutritional and healthy, focused on sustaining the island’s employees in optimal condition. Sugar existed, but it was minimal. You may or may not have had some withdrawals in the beginning. “Shit,” you whispered, “This is good. I forgot how much I missed boba.”

“Tell me. What else did you miss?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Surely, there’s more to your past life than just boba?”

“I wouldn’t be so certain. My life wasn’t all that existing before the island,” you shrugged.

Safin held your gaze. He was waiting.

“I suppose I miss- Okay. I had this neighbor, Mrs. Fletcher. She had this wonderful cat with the world’s most unfortunate name—Gregory. He’s a small tabby, had a hook for a tail.” You crooked your finger in a demonstration. “Not that I need a cat,” you quickly added.

“I’m sure Primo wouldn’t mind,” Safin sipped his tea.

“I’m pretty sure he would, sir.”

“What else?”

“Um. Musicals? Music in general, I guess,” you rolled your eyes back and forth in remembrance. “I hate to say it, but I miss cooking. I used to survive on congee. But I can make a mean char siu with fig jam.”

“Char siu with fig jam?” He frowned, skeptical.

“It’s an amazing combination. I had this food delivery service that delivered five times a week. It was my favorite dish out of everything. The rest were kind of lackluster.”

“We can add it to our menu if you’d like,” he offered.

“Thank you, sir, but I think I miss the act of cooking more than the food itself.”

“What else?” He asked again.

So you answered. And he asked again. So you answered again.

You’re not sure how much time had passed, but it was enough to elicit a yawn from you near the end. The boba was long gone, now a mere cup of water. You can feel your guards coming down. Your answers were more casual, less formal now, emboldened by sleep deprivation. “What about you, sir? What do you miss?”

His fingers traced along the ridges of his cup. “I’m afraid I don’t miss anything.”

“There’s got to be something,” you pushed. Safin quirked his eyebrow. Damn, the sugar wasn’t helping.

Safin hummed as he turned the wall. You followed his gaze. There was that hole again. “My sister used to sing this awful lullaby,” he said quietly. It was almost a hushed whisper, like a secret in the fog.

You stilled at his admittance. Never once have you heard Safin mention his family. And while stories of his past circulated the island, they were part of exaggerated speculation that no one confirmed.

“Awful because she was a horrible singer, not because the lyrics were bad. Vadim was a better singer. And my mother...” He trailed off as his gaze lowered to his empty cup. It didn’t take a genius to know what he was thinking.

You knew better than to press for more. “I miss my parents,” you sighed quietly, matching his volume and secrecy. “Sometimes, I wonder if things could have been different. They were ill, but.. I don’t know. I just think that I could’ve done things differently. Be a better child.” Your tongue swiped across your bottom lip as you swallowed thickly. “Don’t think they’d be fond of your evil plan,” you smiled. “Anyway,” you cleared your throat, “at least we know what you won’t miss.” You leaned forward conspiratorially. “Boba.”

Safin blinked.

“Sorry, that was a joke. I-”

He broke into a chuckle, so sudden, so unexpectedly. It must’ve surprised him, because his hand shot up to cover his mouth, but it was too late. He was already laughing. The sound grew louder and louder despite its quiet and calm nature. And you found yourself chuckling with him, finding his soft laughter strangely contagious this late at night.

“I want to show you something.” He whispered. “Come.” He rose to his feet with the same eagerness that you saw before.

You hastily followed his steps as he approached the wall with the hole. Except, it wasn’t a hole. It was a window to a small garden. You gasped as the pond came into view. There were foliages and flowers on one side, and a zen garden on the other, raked to perfection.

A soft, orange glow highlighted each ripple of the pond, casting a shadow along the rough edges of the logs around it. Sunlight, you realized with a start. Your breath hitched as you looked up at the sky. It was a clear morning. No clouds in sight. The stars hid behind the warm hue among the blue, painting a perfect gradient on the vast canvas.

"My father’s garden,” Safin explained. “You could say it was his prized possession. It’s toxic, of course, but perfectly safe to walk around.”

Your vision blurred as the tears welled in your eyes. “It’s beautiful,” you sniffed, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. Was the sky always this beautiful? You couldn’t recall the last time you looked up from the ground. It felt foolish, in retrospect, to ignore such a sight. What else did you miss out?

“Doctor.”

You turned to Safin, only to find grey eyes watching you. The sunlight kissed his scars, and you couldn’t tell if his gaze only appeared soft because of the sunlight or not. He was glowing, ethereal. And for once, he looked young and handsome, far from the intimidating man whom you once avoided at all cost.

You blushed at the growing realization and quickly dipped your head in a faux yawn. “Something tells me I’m going to miss this,” you exhaled. “Thank you.”

“Of course, doctor.” He replied quietly.

Despite feeling his gaze on you, you refused to look him in the eye. Instead, you focused on the sunrise and calming your fluttering heart.

[teamcivilian]

007 Fest 2023 Team Civilian Captains Intro Post:

Co-captain Lasika (aka turtle) @00qsillyfanturtle

Civilian Name: Domino's Turtle Taxi (a tourist attraction run by no one other than Emilia Janusova)

Second year at Fest and a first time co-captain (exciting and terrifying in equal measures 😬). And a second time civilian on top!

More into the 00q side of things, though I do adore the Daniel Craig Bond movies (and the others too, for sure, but DC Bond did make me cry in a way the others quite didn't manage to 😐).

I am neither a fanfic author (hello ao3) nor a fanartist (nor that good a gifmaker 😓) but I am an awesome cheerleader/enabler of all fan things that must be written, drawn and/or created in any format xD so feel free to prod me here on Tumblr or Slack :D

I'm super excited for Fest as my first experience was an absolute blast and I had so much fun making new friends in the Bond fandom (you guys know who you are! Good luck - now you are stuck with me 😈). So here's me hoping to make more new friends, hopefully participate in some activities (come on, workplace, gimme a break!), and make sure that Team Civilian has a great time too during the Fest!

*

Hello Everyone,

Co-captain Penny

@crewman-penelope here!

Civilian Name: Gingerfan

This is my third fest year, my first as co-captain.

Bond fan since childhood, back sucked in while the Pandemic, I happily found this awesome community on Tumblr ❤️

I'm a fanfiction writer, picture editor and lousy gif-maker, just for fun, and the creator of the Safin Sunday. You can find me on A03 as Anja_Petterson, and speak with me here on Tumblr on the chat system.

I can't wait to meet the team and to create some awesome Bond relates stuff with you all!

[chevy2497]

Happy 42nd birthday to our favourite twin boys Rami and Sami Malek. I hope that they’ll have a great day today with family and friends

@rami-malek-yeah @ramimalek4ever @ramibabe @ramicastiel @ramicutiepie @honestmysteries @malekedd @safin-supremacy2 @safinsscars @ramimalekfans @maleklovers @crewman-penelope

😃😎🥵☺️🥰😃😎🥵☺️🥰😃😎🥵☺️🥰

I can’t believe that these two are now 42 years old. They still look young and that’s amazing 🤩

[crewman-penelope]

The seven sisters

Warning : mature, chauki mythology, historically not fully correct, lower saxony history, human sacrifice, mention of cannibalism

1. The full moon with the seven sisters

The seven sisters sat in the sky the night Wolfmar's sister was born. A full moon accompanied them to illuminate the whole village beneath them.

His muda's screams wailed through the shadows, and no prayers and no magi could help her.

The men sat at the bonfire in front of the longhouse, staring into the flames and ignoring the screams.

If the magi couldn't help, no one could.

Wolfmar's fadder, the gray bearded high-man of the tribe, carved with jittery gesture on the piece of wood in his hand. Wodans rune and numbers - and Wolfmar wonders for a moment, why his father chose this sign. He would had tried to call to Fraia. He wasn't his fadder, though, but a boy of 12 winters, not yet allowed to hunt. So he was nothing.

The screams from the magi house stopped so abruptly, that the echo rung in their ears for some moment, until Wolfmar's father eventually gathered, that his woman had yielded.

The men around the fire threw nervously glances at each other. Silence was a bad sign. Always.

Wolfmar watched his fadder's hands cramping around the piece of wood. He let it fallen abruptly as he jumped up. Wolfmar followed his example, facing his fadder.

Not meeting his eyes, the high-man gestured into the shadows.

“Go to her. Look, what the magi has for us. Report.”

“Yes, tain.”

Wolfmar took a branch out of the fire to walk into the darkness to the maggis house. The stillness - the absolute stillness pressed on his ears like a cloth.

He didn't want to see, nor to hear what the magi has to say. His muda's screams have told him the worst already.

He was relieved as he was greeted by the magi at the door steps. She held a bundle of wool in her left arm, what moved solemnly. Wolfmar could hear some unfamiliar but curious noises. Good noises. He inhaled calm out and looked questioning. He dared not to ask. It was never good to question a magi or a seeing kind. It was sometimes the worst to know too much.

The magi placed the bundle into Wolfmar's arms.

“Careful, boy. She's alive. Tell the tain to take Silda as a milk woman.”

What made sense. Frowe Silda had just lost her little one, she must have still milk.

“I send someone to dig.”, Wolfmar heard his own voice, dull and emotionless. “The ground his hard.”

He turned back into the night, wandered back to the bonfire. His fadder knew by the look of his face.

They needed three men to dig a grave for his muda. Morning Clouds hid the sisters, as they were finished.

The next day the grave was snow covered.

2. The one sister

Aldaga was a sunshine.

Her whole, round face was beaming in joy, no matter the situation. Her eyes funnily narrowed, as if she had to focus so very hard to see, her giggle loud and silly, she was able to soften the hearts of every member of the tribe.

His fadder was thrilled to find out that she was blessed by fraia, she was the everyday joy and warmth, and oh! She was clever on her own terms.

Yes, Aldaga was in some tasks slow and dimwitted. The magi told him early one Aldaga was no frowe to hand for a man, nor to be with child herself. She was for the gods. So she became their tribe deity.

She was the one who got dressed in the fine's wool pieces, she was to wear shoes, filled with down feathers. Her shoulders were decked with fur, and her light hair every week fresh braided and salved.

Every time Wolfmar's eyes felt on his sister, his stomach tickled. He knew his duty. The first time he was allowed to hunt, he killed a deer, so young and still full of muda milk. The sweet flesh was Aldaga's treat. Aldaga in her special wisdom shared with the magi, and the magi shared with the tribe.

The frowen of the tribe cut and boiled, salted it in stribes and let it dry for the winter.

Together with the daily cereal oatmeal, mixed with mushrooms and herbs, it warmed the whole village for the winter.

Sometimes Aldaga staid with the magi for some days, hiding in the house. Singing and drinking magi's frowe tea. Sometimes they wandered in the forest, eating rare mushrooms and collect healing roots.

“We spoke to the Reineke, Wolfmar.”, Aldaga told him after such times. “Can you guess what he told me!?”

He never guessed right. Aldaga never told. Sometimes she whispered nonsense in his ear, silly sing sang of laughing trees and singing flowers. No member of the tribe would spoil their time with such nonsense, but when Aldaga told them, they listened. Especially when it was a cold winter night, with howling wind and frozen roofs.

The winter were the hardest. The older Wolfmar became, the longer staid the cold. So it felt, at least for Wolfmar. Sometimes, when the Blizzard catched the longhouses, the frost crashed a roof, and the ice-cold wind blew out the fire places inside the houses, Wolfmar wished the time was close. Nevertheless, it wasn't his call. The tain and the magi will know.

3. The seven sisters in half moon

The magi called for him a night before the longest one.

One night. Only one night to understand it was the last.

"Aldaga is in her age, too soon she will get visited by the moon. She had to leave before that.”, the magi explained to him. He didn't understand.

She sat him down, giving him the instruction for the ceremony he had to master.

He wasn't asked to do so. He was ordered.

Like his fadder, the tain, had ordered him to the magi at Aldaga birth night.

“You brought her out of the night into the tribe. You will bring her back where she belongs.”

He had to do as the tain tell him.

The magi was kind, holding his hands and caressing along his palm, as she explained to him what to do.

She hugged him afterwards, handed him the knife and told him to send Aldaga to her tomorrow.

To Wolfmar's surprise, he was allowed to stay and to watch the cleansing.

He didn't know what to do with his eyes, while Aldaga slipped out of her clothes.

Her plump body, well-fed and sunny, got a rub with fresh snow and warmed up salve, before the magi dressed her up in a new gown. It was too light for the last winter days, fine sheep wool and goatskin. The trim of her neckline was embroided, reminding Wolfmar of a hand-fast gown.

He watched fascinated the flying fingers of the magi, combing Aldagas hair until it shined like copper. He could not gather how fast the magi braided the now shining hair in small, evenly braids, who got creamed with a sweetly smelling salve. At last, the magi decorated Aldagas thick fingers with bronze rings.

The result was breathtaking.

Aldaga twirled in the shine of the fire, laughing excites.

“Am I fair, Wolfmar? Am I a bride?”, she laughed excited and danced silly.

And she was.

Her light hair braided and knotted into a crown, the dress of a tribe princess, she was ready to hand fast with the gods.

“Fraia will welcome her sister.”, the magi hummed. Wolfmar agreed with a full, but heavy heart.

“Don't wait too long.”, she spoke firmer and gave Wolfmar a knowing glance.

Wolfmar's throat was tight, so he just nodded and rose.

Holding a hand up, he waited, until Aldaga took it of her own.

It was important that she came willingly.

Aldaga, excited and smiling - beamingly smiling, always smiling - followed keen.

The cave wasn't this far. Half an hour through the night.

However, the entrance was small by purpose.

One has to get on his knees to enter the holly. Knowing, that this place was the front hall to the gods, Aldaga and Wolfmar crawled solemn inside.

He heard his sister chuckle.

“Look! More light!”

She was right. A light hole, far up in the ceiling, send the milken light of the half moon on the way. It illuminated the small and narrow way to the well, what were their destination.

Wolfmar found himself shivering, even that the surrounding walls were embracing him kindly. He could feel the handle of the knife pocking in his side.

Aldaga stopped in front of him so abruptly, he nearly pushed her forward. They had arrived the well.

He was grateful not to see her face now, while Aldaga sat laborious up, her legs hanging over the rim of the well.

“What is down there?”, she asked so innocently, Wolfmar thought a moment to run.

With her, to the next post. There was one, half a day, filled with strangers in shiny metal and rasp voices.

A second later, he dismissed his idea. That was a stupid thought! Was living under the Stranger as slaves better than to live under the will of the gods? How silly!

He crawled closer, resting his chin on his sister's shoulder.

“This is the way home.”, he whispered. The strong scent of the hair salve bite in his nose.

“Your real home.”

“Is muda there?”, Aldaga whispered, her voice suddenly small.

Wolfmar was able to see half her face, wide eyes and unsureness in her expression.

“Yes. You go and walk with her and fraia. And next spring, you come back. Promise?”

Aldaga laughed out. Her face a sunny beam again.

“Of course, Wolfmar!”

This was the moment he used the knife.

He was quick like a hunter, ending his prey. The blade smoothed clean and deep. A swall of blood, like a water cascade, floated out of Aldaga's throat.

Her eyes became empty, and silently she toppled over the rim of the well.

It was low enough to hear the impact.

He didn't know how he got out of the cave. He found himself out of it, sitting beside his steaming puke.

Deeply inhaling, he looked up to the sisters. His teary eyes tricked him for a second and the seven sisters had become eight. And maybe that was not an illusion at all.

Eventually he made his way back to the village, crying alone in the dark, because he was not allowed to cry in front of the tribe.

Next year, they will come back, everybody, to visit Aldaga.

They will use the magi's path and break the bones and eat together.

Next year, they will share and be close to the gods, thanking them for the warmth.

This was his only solace.