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magioftheseas · 3 years

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The Capital Magical Defense Force

For @oumota-events

DAY 1: Magical Boys AU

Rating: T+

Warnings: Violence, blood, death mentioned, darker implications. Yeah it’s one of those magical au. The daaaaark subversions.

Notes: This is the longest one because we’re starting off with a big bang~ It’s not that long though. It’s just not a ficlet unlike the others. I did really enjoy writing this though. It’s a pretty...fun...au. Yeah. Haha.

Ao3 Link

In just about every world, there are unseen forces to make sure a system works a certain way. That the cogs in the machine turn without fail and that any disturbances are dealt with promptly. These unseen forces can be mundane and dull—but they can also be fantastical...while still incredibly dull.

In this instance, there are two worlds. The dull, mundane one and the dull, fantastical one. The only way to transverse is through contracts between the respective denizens, and it turns out that said contracts are necessary to keep everything in order.

There are benefits, truly. If one world collapses, the other is taken with it. It is within everyone’s best interest that the denizens work together—even if certain manipulations need to be made. After all, the greater good is such a vague and nebulous concept. It’s more encouraging to offer personal gains.

Like, for example, keeping someone alive, be it from sickness or the aftereffects of a horrible, terrible, despairing accident. The desire to live is a powerful force shared among many, both dim-witted and intelligent. It’s an efficient deal to make, especially when the other side of the exchange is not only responsibilities, but special, magical abilities to deal with those responsibilities.

Shame, then, that one particular being blessed with those abilities, those responsibilities, that gift of survival...doesn’t seem to fully appreciate it. Certain arrangements have been made. That being has been assigned to the same areas as another being of a similar caliber, but far more keen to do what must be done.

This is as much an experiment as it is an effort to keep matters under control. Observations are to be as follows...

“In the name of the stars, I’m gonna kick your fucking ass!!”

The town hero known as Starboy was being filmed again. Floating about, sending so-called comet punch after comet punch. The monster squealed under the abuse, but it didn’t squeal as much as that fucking eyesore that tailed the magical boy around as he cursed colorfully under his breath.

“This jackass just doesn’t know when to quit!”

“S-Starboy-kun,” the thing whimpered. “Please watch your language! Kids idolize you!”

“Sorry!” Starboy exclaimed, focusing more on the fight thankfully. “It’s just—let me protect the city first!!”

With a battle cry, Starboy summoned all his strength for a starstorm, pummeling the monster more and more until it fizzled out of existence. Starboy was left slumped on the ground and gasping for breath, but still found it in him to whoop for joy.

Unfortunately for him, that moment of victory was short-lived.

“Geeeez, Starboy-chan, I thought you’d really get trampled this time! You didn’t even need any help!” Another magical boy landed on the scene, right next to where the monster had once been and plucking up the fragment which was all that remained.

“H-Hey!” Starboy shouted, more like wheezed. “What the hell—that’s not yours to take!”

“It’s payment for making me worry so much,” he cackled. “You really should be more careful! You don’t want to be killed in the line of duty, now do you?”

Weakened as he was from the fight, dodging Starboy lurching towards him was child’s play.

“D-Dice!!” that eyesore shrieked. “You and Starboy-kun should be working together! Why are you doing this?!”

Dice gave that thing a cold stare, but grinned in Starboy’s direction.

“Because I like you. That’s a lie. I like messing with you. Also a lie! I really—love you, Starboy-chan!”

“Quit messing around!” Starboy gasped. “Y-You—if you need those damn fragments, you don’t have to steal them! You’re a magical boy, aren’t ya?! You should be helping me defend the city! And then I’d split them with ya even!”

Aah. This guy...

“Oh Starboy-chan, I actually, truthfully loathe you,” Dice sighed.

“D-Dice!” the thing shrieked and without looking, Dice had fired a beam that knocked the pitifully contemptible creature out, much to Starboy’s dismay.

“S-SHIROKUMA...!”

Before he could go to help, however, Dice had seized the bow of his uniform, yanking him to not-quite eye level.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’d stop bothering with that thing and join me instead.”

Starboy only scowled.

“Why the hell would I join you when you act like a villain! I-If I could, I’d beat your ass too...!”

Such a remark gets Dice shoving him back, knocking him onto the ground. Starboy glared up at him defiantly, his stare only darkening as Dice grinned.

“It’s a joke, obviously!” he chirped. “After all—what sort of desperate loser would want to ally with an idiot like you?”

Starboy shouted at him, but whatever he shouted, he was already long gone. Starboy shouted again but, being the justice-obsessed type, he switched gears to muster up the strength to go stumbling after the fainted Shirokuma. Scooping the pitiful bear head-looking creature into his hands, Starboy avoided the incoming paparazzi and gracious civilians and rushed off to safety.

The ideal worker. Starboy will be a great boon of energy in the future once his limit is reached.

“Dice is such a fucking dick,” Kaito grumbles, rubbing ointment onto his bruises. “We’re both working for the same thing but for no reason at all, he’s self-serving and a piece of shit.”

He observes himself in the mirror, rubbing at the circles under his eyes. He’s been going at this whole magical boy hero thing for almost a year. It’s getting harder and harder, but for the sake of the city, he can’t give up. He’s its protector, after all.

Still, it’s getting difficult. His wastebasket is filled with bloodied tissue and bandages. Shirokuma, at least, is currently resting in a bucket of warm water. Dice’s attack had been as sudden as it was vicious, and for what?

“Why is he such a dick?” Kaito asks, but Shirokuma hums.

“Some people...are just bad. It can’t be helped. I’m sorry if that sounds despairing, Momota-kun.”

“Bad, huh.”

It’s not the first time he’s gotten that answer. When he describes Dice to his sidekicks, he more or less gets the same response. Harumaki even goes out of her way to call Dice a supervillain, which Shuuichi agrees to, but...

Here’s a secret that no one else knows. The crack in the foundation so painstakingly paved for black and white heroism.

Dice has saved his life more than once. When blood rushed up his throat and his knees buckled in, Dice would swoop in and let him save face. It would be passed off as Dice once again taking advantage of the situation...but it always, always happens when Kaito is facing death head-on.

Dice is a dick. A self-serving piece of shit. Possibly a supervillain.

He’s also definitely looking out for Starboy. It’s happened too consistently for Kaito to be convinced it’s unintentional.

If Dice insists on helping him, then surely he can’t be a bad person...except he still acts like a bad person most of the time.

What a headache.

“Feeling better, Momota-kun?” Shirokuma chirps up at him in that big sweet voice that Kaito can’t say no to, even when he probably should.

“Never better!”

A thumps-up. A wide grin. Doing his damnedest to pretend like his lungs don’t want to collapse in on themselves.

“Starboy-chan is such a fucking idiot.”

Ouma slams his chest of fragments shut. He still hasn’t figured out what the damn things do, but Shirokuma insists on collecting them so they must be important in some sense. Sure, Shirokuma says that it’s something to do with negative energy and restoring balance, blah, blah, blah—but Shirokuma is a piece of shit liar. And Ouma hates liars.

But he thinks he hates Starboy the most. Or, at least, he finds Starboy to be the most frustrating dumbass in the galaxy.

Because it’s obvious, isn’t it? It’s obvious that Shirokuma is shady as all get out. It’s obvious that there is something deeply wrong with the magical boy system. There have been so many disappearances and it’s suspicious as all get out how Starboy in particular is being worked to the bone and pushed to the brink.

There’s something seriously wrong with all of it.

Ouma just needs to figure out what before everything goes wrong.

To become a magical boy, one needs resolve. To encourage magical boys, a wish is often granted to sweeten—and seal the deal. Ouma’s was a cowardly, stupid wish that he’s still kicking himself for to this day, although in hindsight he should be glad it was so simple. The worthless wish to live as everyone else was dead around him.

He’s still haunted by their faces. He should’ve wished for them but couldn’t. He was targeted and tricked, and now he’s stuck. But the least he can do is make everything difficult for those monsters along the way.

Starboy—aka Momota Kaito...well. Ouma doesn’t know what his wish was, but he suspects it’s as stupidly noble and short-sighted as he’s come to expect.

Oh, yes, he knows that Starboy is Momota Kaito. Who wouldn’t know that? They look the same—although Ouma suspects that magic is at play since no civilians have made the connection. Not even Saihara Shuuichi, a would-be detective.

It’s clear, however, that Saihara-chan has noticed the effects.

“This is the fourth time you’ve had to clear your throat, Momota-kun.”

Momota clears his throat again. He musters up a laugh.

“It’s just been dry. No big deal. You worry too much.”

“Gooooooodness, Momota-kun!” Ouma crowed, skipping in. “Are you dying?! Please, please don’t die! I haven’t even gotten to tell you how much I love you!”

Momota recoils when Ouma jumps on him. Saihara shrieks in surprise but Momota only growls as he tries to shake the brat off.

“Let—GO!”

Ouma does, but not without jabbing the back of Momota’s knee and causing him to topple over. Saihara rushes to steady him, shooting Ouma quite the ugly look. Ouma shrugs that off.

“Whatever it is you’re doing is killing you,” he merely states. “So, you should stop lest you traumatize my poor Saihara-chan.”

“I...” Saihara swallowed, looking like he’d hate to agree but when it came to Momota... “You shouldn’t overwork yourself, Momota-kun.”

“I’m fine,” Momota slurred. “Totally fine. I’m a goddamn Luminary, Shuuichi...” He says he’s fine while learning into Saihara. It’s a bright sunny day. People are no doubt stealing glances, and Momota no doubt has to hide his exhausted face in his sidekick’s shoulder. It’s a good thing Harukawa isn’t here.

Ouma scoffed. Saihara shot him another glare.

“If you’re just here to mess with Momota-kun, you can leave.”

Saihara’s hands tighten on Momota. Goodness, it really is like Ouma is the supervillain tormenting the tired hero.

How boring.

Ouma turns heel, smiling as he waves them off.

I shouldn’t bother. I shouldn’t have to bother.

No matter how many times he’s thought that, he ends up in this situation. With Starboy exhausted on the ground and a fragment pinched so firmly between his fingers that it’s this close to embedding itself in the skin. Shirokuma floats around Starboy.

“He’s getting close,” Shirokuma is saying. “He won’t be able to take much more. How despairing. So despairing.”

Ou—Dice swats the thing to the ground. It giggles up at him.

“You can’t save him, you weren’t able to save your other friends. Just give up, Dice-kun. Give into despair.”

It’s laughing, its laughter resounding even as Dice stomps the thing to bits. It’ll just reshape itself and find Momota again. No matter what he does, he can’t get rid of it. It’s part of a damn hivemind after all.

Sighing, Dice goes to Starboy once again, and Starboy is lying there almost prone. Looking painfully pale. His breathing is shallow. At least he’s still alive.

But for how much longer? And what am I even doing wasting my time with this idiot? No matter what I tell him or how bad he gets, he refuses to back down and Shirokuma just eggs him on.

He gets down, rolling Starboy onto his back. Starboy groans and for a moment, he blearily comes to.

“Di...ce... You...again...” There’s a couple of missing words. It’s clearly difficult for Starboy to speak. He groans, eyes screwing shut. When Dice helps him sit up, he coughs and there’s a thin stream of blood that trickles down his chin. “U-Urgh...hurts bad.”

“Well, yeah. You don’t take breaks, idiot.” Ouma tutted him. “Some of the monsters you take are mooks. You shouldn’t waste your time.”

“S-Shuuut,” Starboy slurs. He coughs again. “I’m...s’posed to be...a hero. A-A... Luminary.”

It’s because of shit like this that made it was so easy for Ouma to find Momota in the first place.

And Starboy—fucking laughs.

“Even through that stupid mask of yours, I can tell you’re disproving.” He musters up a bit more strength to speak, for all the good that’s doing him. “You’re really worried, huh?”

“I don’t trust Shirokuma,” Dice said simply. “You shouldn’t either.”

Starboy swallows. No doubt swallows back blood. He sucks in his breath. He shakes. He tries to shake his head specifically. Ends up slumping against him. Dice isn’t as gentle with him as Saihara was, but Dice still has little choice but to help him up.

“Stay with me,” Dice ordered. “You’re not allowed to die.”

He’s wasting his breath. Starboy’s definitely going to die at this rate even if it’s not today. All because—

“I’m a hero,” Starboy is slurring. “Heroes don’t—take breaks...they don’t leave people to die.”

“You’re not a hero,” Dice snapped. One step at a time. “You’re just an idiot.”

“It’s not...not about trust...” Starboy huffs at him next. “Not that...you’d understand that... Ouma.”

Dice doesn’t pause. Far from it.

...idiot.

Ouma Kokichi wonders if it’s a coincidence that he and Momota ended up in this situation together.

...

That’s right. Momota Kaito is going to bring you down. The hero! The Luminary! Won’t that be the Ultimate Despair?

(That’s how she would respond.)

Ouma Kokichi, always so close and yet so far, can’t focus on that right now. He has to save the life of a dying man after all. The results are sure to be favorable.

And yet, also so very—predictable.

Boring.

#oumota #oumotaweek2021 #Magi fics

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orsuliya · 4 years

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Zitan went off to mope forevermore and Miracle Baby (our Lord and Saviour!) ascended the throne with a Wang as his Prime Minister.

The Imperial Court listened to Xiao Qi’s proposal - as if they had any choice - and allowed people of all three nationalities to settle north of Ningshuo. This changed the lives of a great number of people. With time taxes were lowered and farming became the foundation of a strong economy. Blah-blah-blah, all was well, peace and rainbows, golden age has begun.

And to think I was angry that we didn’t get to see Xiao Qi and Awu on the throne! Silly old me. You see, this short final voiceover is suprisingly informative...

Do you know what lies north of Ningshuo? Grasslands. And do you know what grasslands are really great for? Farming. Really, really great for farming. Provided there is enough manpower to work the land properly in order to avoid erosion, there’s really nothing better. Hmmm, where would one get enough manpower to farm those grasslands?

Victims of cultural discrimination would probably make great settlers and - completely coincidentally - they might also feel particular loyalty towards a liege lord who protects them. Both from discrimination and from wild Hulans. Yeah, Hulans could potentially become a major problem for the settlers... But then what is that big bad Ningshuo Army for? And since that big bad army technically belongs to Cheng, then Cheng will continue paying for it, just in case.

That’s how you build a de facto sovereign principality: enjoying all possible privileges of independence, while reaping maximum benefits related to technically being a vassal state. And you don’t even have to wear a terribly silly hat to do it!

So what’s going on in the great state of Ningshuo? Well, other than this:

Awu's legion of children is learning geography in much the same way that Awu herself did in her childhood under the watchful eye of Granny Empress. Everything seemingly stays the same... and yet everything changes, which serves as an excellent coda to this amazing story.

Where little Awu had once played on a map made out of precious metal, caged behind golden walls and guarded gates of the Imperial Palace, her children have a map that couldn’t be any more different. It’s much, much bigger, for one. Just like Awu’s world is these days.

It’s also made for everyone, regardless of birth, status and nationality. Princess or commoner, it no longer matters; Cheng isn’t something that can be taken from the common people, not anymore.

And you know what? You can take that map anywhere you go! For the longest time the capital was the place of power, the only place that really mattered. Take the capital and you take the world, that’s the principle many of our would-be usurpers seemed to be operating on. Well, no longer. And not just because the center of power is slightly more to the north these days!

I BELIEVE, MY DEAR MONARCHIES, IT’S A WRAP!

#the rebel princess #monarch industry #episode 68 #okay it is not exactly a wrap #I have a ton of asks and headcanons to get through #and it is not like TRP is letting go #but technically a wrap all the same

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oneweekoneband · 4 years

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To Leave Or Die In Long Island

Of course, BTMI! was just getting started. Less than a year after the release of the debut, Jeff came out with a second album (well, at 8 songs, it’s more of an EP, or mini-album, or, in Jeff’s words, a digital “10-inch”). Though To Leave Or Die In Long Island is shorter in length than Album Minus Band, that only seems to have helped to focus the sound and songwriting on it. In some ways, it’s more conceptually ambitious, too – the album begins and ends with the same melody in a kind of parallel structure. Almost everything that was great on Album Minus Band is honed to a finer point here. (Strangely, according to this interview, this is apparently Jeff’s least favourite BTMI! album; while I understand his reasoning why, it easily ranks as one of my favourites.) As on that album, for example, Jeff continues to criticize the state of the 2000s punk scene. But instead of simply lashing out at obnoxious trend-chasers, his targets get more specific and his lyrics more potent as a result: opener “Happy Anterrabae Day!!!” takes aim at the overly-violent culture that can still be observed at hardcore shows. Between the first verse to the second, Jeff moves from jeering at the guys who threaten “some fourteen-year-old” to suggesting ways to improve the situation: “If I kissed you on the nose or offered you a hug, / How could you possibly still wanna fight?” He ends with a reminder of the positive possibilities of punk rock: “Think about the reason you went to shows at twelve years old, / We all felt alone, it was not to kick my ass!”

Whether it’s the inside-joke about a bandmate’s ladder-climbing career offer to join a more successful band (that didn’t work out in the end) on “Congratulations, John, On Joining Every Time I Die!” or the under-a-minute hardcore punchline of “Showerbeers!!!”, the album really shines on the lyrical front even when it feels like Jeff isn’t trying (which he admits he wasn’t on “Showerbeers!!!”). Then there’s the more serious stuff: “Dude, Get With The Program” is one of Jeff’s best songs about the paper-thin quality of that bullshit facade upper-management types put on when trying to soothe class antagonisms in their workplaces. Inspired by an experience he had at a job in which a company’s managers started lecturing workers on being part of their “family” right before the paycuts and firings began, he vents his frustrations: “You’re working on your first million, / I’m on my first thousand, / And bills are due tomorrow.” There’s the emptiness of the rhetoric fed to those who get the short end of the stick under capitalism: “You didn’t get fired, you’re ‘laid off.’” The chorus clears it all up: “You could have figured out a way to help us out, / But you just said: / ‘Hey, go ahead and get fucked!’”

youtube

By contrast, the less-oppositional “Stand There Until Your Sober” has been a long-running fan favourite possibly due to its confessional quality. It’s a song about drinking too much, feeling like you’ve fallen behind in life, like you’ve missed your chance to grow up, and being generally miserable with nothing to look forward to except the awesome party you have planned for your friends at your funeral (because “mourning is for suckers!”). Over a relatively sparse 3/4 groove with some nice musical flourishes (those backmasked acoustic guitar chords that open the song always get me), Jeff sings about the city’s ambient lights blocking out the stars, making out with a stranger on a boat, and earning only “a hundred and ten bucks for twenty hours” while watching his friends achieve a comfortable stability in life that always seems out of reach for him. It’s the ultimate loser’s anthem, and maybe some of the most poetic stuff to come out of BTMI! Even in the midst of the despair, a ray of positivity breaks through near the end of the song: “You’ll finally know that life’s okay, / Even when the bad things happen.”

The music, too, takes a giant step forward on To Leave Or Die. Though Album Minus Band already showed signs of breaking free from the confines of ska-punk, Jeff signals his ambitions to fuck with the formula as much as possible right off the bat with the cheesy fake-out synth-rock intro to “Happy Anterrabae Day!!!”, gradually revving up the tempo until it reaches the hardcore intensity that kicks off its first verse. Remember what I said about Jeff’s harmonies on Album Minus Band? Here’s the thing: he might not be a great singer (something he’d address directly on the band’s final album), but he sure knows how to layer his voice in his wall-of-sound production to trick you into thinking he is. Of course, he pulls back the curtain at the end and mutes all instruments for the final chorus’s last couple “na-na-na” sections, revealing a chorus of Jeffs screaming vague harmonies and polyphonies at the top of their lungs, barely staying in time with each other, let alone in tune. He knows exactly how absurd it sounds and works that to his advantage perfectly – it never fails to make me laugh out loud. I actually first got my sister into this band by showing her this part of the song, which she couldn’t believe would be left in an actual studio recording. It’s both incredibly funny and incredibly punk; what could be more so than a guy going “Yeah, I can’t sing, but how about I make a whole goddamn choral arrangement out of my voice anyway?”

The peak of the album’s musical ambition arrives at its climax and final song, “Syke! Life Is Awesome!” A tour-de-force of multi-section songwriting, Jeff describes it relatively accurately on Quote Unquote as being composed of “20-second blasts of different genres whether it be alt-country, post-punk, reggae or synth pop.” What that description doesn’t quite capture is the progression of the song, from an acoustic-strummed folk-punk intro into a kind of freak-folk chorus strung out on its own silliness, from there to a classic hardcore punk tempo interspersed with a couple bars of ska, building to an unstoppable outro with a horn section that sounds like a Motown track’s backing dialed up to light-speed. That excellent “na-na-na” vocal melody from “Happy Anterrabae Day!!!” is reprised here through the horns at the end of the song, a motif for the observant listener to enjoy. Lyrically, too, this might be one of my favourite BTMI! songs; Jeff says this one was about a time he got to talk with the lead singer of Squeeze and realized how cool it was that his life had turned out in a way that such a thing could happen. It’s the end of the song that really gets me: sprinting across the album’s final stretch, Jeff begins a long, uninterrupted phrase following an instrumental break that details all the weird things that happened in his life in the chain of events that got him to where he was at the time of writing that song. It evokes a sense of wonder at the simple mechanism of cause-and-effect: “And if I knew how to throw a football, / I would have never played any music, / And if never got my heart broken, / I would sing ‘blah blah fucking nothing.’” It’s a celebration of the uniqueness of the timeline that makes your life unequivocally yours, as it could never be any other way. In philosophy, we might call that a “haecceity.”

#Bomb The Music Industry!#BTMI!#Punk #Punk rock #To Leave Or Die In Long Island

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yuvon-writes-letters · 3 years

Note

[The letter here seems to be written in a really known writing; it seems it could've been beautifully written with ink...If the ink wouldn't have been some kind of shimmering brown and the writing shaky. So unknown]

I am sorry for the time I let you wait, Yuvon and your Jake, Rainer and now Skie, dear idi Duskwood Stalker. Jessy. I belive and apology is also needed towards Liska, your [the next word is weirdly crossed out, seemingly unable for anyone to read except for the Detective Inc. A red shimmer is over the word] love Jake and Max.

I just need to inform you of one thing, then you'll be hopefully left alone.

[The writing changes, it seems to become sharper and while reading you believe to hear someone laughing] As you wish.

[It changes again, shakier but definitely a bit less brown] The little girl and her cousin are alright. You maybe have to give her some time to read the letters, though. They did not answer because their world stopped. It was necessary.

~ 🕊

[Directly under the writing the familiar writing of Liska appears, but it seems to be more like the word association writing than normal] Don't make me repeat myself aMiro.

[With some space to the last letter Liskas writing becomes normal and as familiar as ever, just for the first sentence a silver shimmer seems to be on them; when you look a second time it disappeared] I hope you are well...

And as it seems I am sorry for my...Yeah, what, disappereance? I mean, I think it was not really my fault, but it is still weird. I still try to organise my thoughts.

Hello Skie, it is nice to meet you and I really hope Rai is doing better. We all had to suffee enough already...

Same goes for you, Yuvon. I know many things happened in my, or our, absence. I just need some time to wrap my head around it. Maybe I'll need some time till I am fully able to take older letters in accountant when I wrote you. Nevertheless, I just have to let one thing go, black ink, you're a bitch. [Here are many uneven dots, it seems Liska tapped with her pen on the paper without writing anything]

I don't believe I have any more to say FOR NOW. I need some time, but that will hopefully only last until your last letter. Damn, Max seems to be eager to write something, too [Lis' drew one of her known little faces, an annoyed one]

I am sorry for all the time we left you alone, I really am...And I hope you still welcome the Shimmer-Universe back. (Get it? Glowing because of Goldie?)

~ Liska🔥🐾

Ps. Welcome, dear Stalker. I am intrigued to get to know you.

[The writing changes again, this time to Max']

Hello guys. I don't really know what my dear cousin is talking about...As far as I know we didn't even get new letters from you guys. Just whatever is written on top of this page. What happened though, we got up and the fox seemed to have some kind of total personality change.

Honestly.

She is still my loving and caring cousin, but she seems...More active. Her state got better over night and yes, I am glad about that, but it is just weird. I believe even her Jake realised that. Weirdly enough he contacted me about it first, while she was writing the letter.

Oh and by the way, were you able to read what was written in this weird brown ink? Was that Liskas golden friend? I am just confused by now.

But back to the personality, also she seems more confident. I don't believe her confidence ever went this high.

But I think I'll give this letter to our her oh fuck it our Jake. Liska did write his name blue, right?

~ Max

[The last bit of the letter, a screenshot glued to the back]

From what Liska talked about I also want to greet you all again and reintroduce myself for the new 'players'; Hello, I am, as I believe you already figured out, Jake. To be exact Jake of Liskas universe.

It seems that we all have been in some kind of stasis which is the reason some of you might not know anyone of the three of us.

I hope you look over that fact and apologise that I am not going to recap anything, since that would take far too much of our time.

As well as the others I hope you are doing okay, like Max I have no idea of what happened since I did not get any new letters either, but from what I could gather while talking to Liska this early morning some things happened and she knows. Or at least know things of it which she doesn't seem to be able to sort out.

Because of this I also apologise for the shortness of my message, but I don't seem to be much help for now.

~ Jake

{I, Liskas author, also wants to apologise. I've not doing so well and it took me some time to gain my creative motivation again. I put that into another account so I could gain motivation and get over my creative block. It worked as it seems. As Liska said I will probably take some time to get used to the things I missed, but I promise I'll try :) I am currently ill and on vacation, next week school starts again [11th grade in Germany, my penultimate year of school O-O]. But that won't make me let those letters rest again.

Once more, I deeply apologise and hope my re-entering didn't confuse too much🥺😅I have many things to re-read and re-think. For example Liskas real name. I forgot xD}

Okay wow this is a lot. I'm gonna go one person at a time.

Goldie,

Um. This is a stupid question, but are you... alright? You seem worn down. This is a very bad time to be worn down, I think.

...Nevermind. Looking at that red text, I think I can guess at least some of what's going on.

That sounds, uh, severe. Stopping the world, I mean. Like, worse than Flower severe.

Who the hell is aMiro? I mean, it's probably an anagram, given the location of the capital letter, but I suck at anagrams, so...

Lis,

There's a letter in your pile, maybe has some dirt on it, DON'T OPEN IT, IT'S TRAPPED.

Yeah, I'm... well as I can be. Given circumstances. Sick with worry about anything and everything, but at least one less thing now.

Glad you're back, and don't worry. I get it. Weird paranormal events make it a bit difficult to write letters sometimes, as I'm sure we all know VERY well by now.

We're nicknaming my entity Black Ink now? Sure, that works. Better than "The Entity" this, "the entity" that, blah blah blah.

There's, uh, quite a bit to catch up on, I think. Have fun! Or something.

Max,

A personality change...? Hmm. Weird. Keep an eye on it. So long as she's just happier and more confident, I think we can call it mostly harmless.

Yes, that was Goldie. Don't worry too much about what they said, they just put some things into perspective for me.

...Like I said. Keep an eye on it.

Jake,

Good to have you back :)

I'm afraid I don't have much to say at the moment, and my Jake's off messing with the knife glade, trying to find any more secrets we might have missed the past million times, so I believe I'll end this letter here. I'm sure my Jake'll be happy to chat with you by the next time you pop in, though.

See ya, all!

—Yuvon

(The letter tucks itself in the paper clip with the others.)

#duskwood letter game #yuvon writes letters #duskwood #duskwood game #duskwood everbyte #lis's entity #red ink #lis #max #lis's jake

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nerianasims · 4 years

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Billboard #1s 1985

Under the cut.

Foreigner -- "I Want To Know What Love Is" -- February 2, 1985

One of the quintessential 80s power ballads. It's actually kind of interesting if you think about it enough. He's not in love yet, but he's gotten sick of not being in love, so he's asking someone he's in the pre-love stage with to show him. Though he's had "heartache and pain" before, and doesn't know if he can face it again. It's not consistent. I feel like it's a missed opportunity, but oh well. It's good enough for what it is.

Wham! -- "Careless Whisper" -- February 16, 1985

Oh my god I love the saxophone in this. The music throughout the song is so incredibly sexy. And this is the kind of song George Michael's voice was made for. He's totally capable of sounding both hot and in agony at the same time. I actually adore a whole lot of cheating songs -- mostly, though not exclusively, the tormented kind. Drama! Love! Sex! Angst! Gorgeous.

REO Speedwagon -- "Can't Fight This Feeling" -- March 9, 1985

<3. He keeps singing "r"s like a pirate, but he doesn't go as hard on the other consonants, so I'm good with it. Lyrically, this song sounds like it might be two songs mashed together. "What started out as friendship has grown stronger" or "my life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you." Well which is it? Except I've had that happen. I love this song.

Phil Collins -- "One More Night" -- March 30, 1985

This is a depressing heartbreak song without the saving grace of any of Phil Collins' neat drum stuff. Blah.

We Are the World -- April 13, 1985

Whoo boy. I was 8 when this came out. Obviously I loved it. All the kids loved it. Now, though... I'm sorry, but it's bad. Really bad. Many others have gone deeply into why it's bad. I feel acutely embarrassed listening to it, so I'm just running away from it as fast as possible. (Remember all those celebrities singing "Imagine" in their mansions in 2020? I blame this song for that.)

Madonna -- "Crazy For You" -- May 11, 1985

This is one of Madonna's most straightforward love songs. Maybe the most, period. This or "Cherish," and this is a better song. It's lovely. Like Olivia Newton-John, Madonna can act a song. (Unlike in most movies she's been in.) But what I'm thinking about now is learning in this article that her label wouldn't let Madonna release "Into the Groove" as a single. That song was huge. It was played on the radio all the time. If it had been released as a single, or maybe if Billboard had tracked songs then like it does today, it would have been a massive smash, definitely #1. "Into the Groove" is also the best song of her very early career. "Crazy for You" is good, but not nearly as special.

Simple Minds -- "Don't You Forget About Me" -- May 18, 1985

As I am "Gen X", I am supposed to deeply connect with The Breakfast Club. I was 8 years old when it came out. My life as a teenager was nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, like that movie. I didn't recognize any of the "types." I liked the movie when I saw it in college, mostly, but the whole sexual harassment turns into a relationship deal was not seen as cool any longer. The "jocks vs. nerds" thing also felt very dated. The school in the movie was bigger and richer than mine, but it's a fantasy.

Anyway, though I don't feel much about the movie, its breakout song was really good. It does speak to a real fear both in graduating high school and during young adult relationships. I haven't forgotten the people I knew in high school, as far as I know, but obviously they don't have the same importance to me any longer. I'm Facebook friends with a lot of them. And very much not with a couple who were the most important then, because we grew apart -- or blasted apart. One of the nicest girls I knew in high school thinks there's a war on Christmas. Another keeps trying to get me to join her MLM. One of my best friends became my first boyfriend, and I don't regret that, but it was also a semi-disaster. And others... we just have nothing to say to each other any longer.

So, Breakfast Club: I don't connect with at all. "Don't You Forget About Me": Speaks to something very real and timeless.

Wham! -- "Everything She Wants" -- May 25, 1985

What a dick. Songs in which the narrator is a colossal jerk are perfectly fine, of course, but this one gets under my skin. He's whining about his wife getting pregnant when she's dissatisfied with their life and that they're broke. As if it's something she chose to do to him. She's stuck creating a whole other person with her blood and flesh, and he thinks it's all and entirely about him. I really hate it.

Tears for Fears -- "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" -- June 8, 1985

I can't hear this song without thinking of this Baldur's Gate fan trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jdd06d2nids. Speaking of which, I am incredibly excited for Baldur's Gate 3. I've been reading the early access reviews on Steam, and anything anyone is saying that's negative is stuff I don't gaf about (except bugs), whereas the positive stuff, I care about deeply. I hope it's got some of the feeling of that trailer. Um, right, Tears for Fears.

Honestly, though, it works best as a Baldur's Gate theme song. I don't think everybody actually wants to rule the world. It sounds good though. And pretty different from other stuff around it. But I like Lorde's cover better, and not just because it fits so wonderfully with all sorts of fantasy stories.

I usually play a paladin or paladin-type the first time in fantasy RPGs, but I'm thinking bard this time.

Bryan Adams -- "Heaven" -- June 22, 1985

He's been with this woman since they were young, and while they've broken up and gone through rough patches, now they're together forever and they're "in heaven." Bryan Adams knew exactly how to write a song that would become a hit. I used to not mind it at all, but it also means nothing to me. The chorus is catchy as hell though. So catchy that I ended up waking up with it in my head and it would not leave for hours and hours, so now I resent this song.

Phil Collins -- "Sussudio" -- July 6, 1985

I refuse to believe anyone ever told Phil Collins he was too young. He was born middle-aged. Anyway, the narrator isn't supposed to be him, so it's fine, but it's still kinda funny. He's got a crush on someone who doesn't even know his name, but "she's all I need all of my life." Um. The music is repetitive, the drums aren't as interesting as Phil Collins at his best, and I don't like the lyrics. I don't hate it, but I don't like it either.

Duran Duran -- "View to a Kill" -- July 13, 1985

I'm not sure I've ever heard this song before. It's about as good a song as the Bond movie they wrote it for was as a movie. In other words, it's bad. I'm not even sure there's a melody. Just a mess. "Ordinary World" would have made a far better Bond theme, but of course that was the 90s, when Duran Duran decided to try to make sense both lyrically and musically.

Paul Young -- "Every Time You Go Away" -- July 27, 1985

I like the high keyboard notes in this. They're sort of haunting. The rest of the song is musically pretty good, too. Lyrically though, it's only passable. This woman keeps leaving him every time "the leading man" shows up, so I guess he's the backup. Why does he keep waiting for her anyway? There's no hint in the song. I'm kind of embarrassed for him.

Tears for Fears -- "Shout" -- August 3, 1985

I think "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" is a better song than this one when done by Lorde. But I think "Shout" is a better song than Tears for Fears' original iteration of "Everybody Wants to Rule the World." The chorus seems clear enough. But the verses are not. "They gave you life/ And in return you gave them hell" makes sense in isolation, but then there's a bunch of stuff that doesn't go with it. Like "I'd really love to break your heart" -- wtf? But the music is really good.

Huey Lewis and the News -- "The Power of Love" -- August 24, 1985

This was the big song for Back to the Future, and it meshed beautifully with the movie, but it doesn't need that association to be a great song. "Don't need money, don't take fame/ Don't need no credit card to ride this train/ It's strong and it's sudden, it can be cruel sometimes/ But it might just save your life." Yep. It's sort of Motown, sort of rock, and I love it. (Also: "Stronger and harder than a bad girl's dream." Heh.)

John Parr -- "St. Elmo's Fire" -- August 24, 1985

Of all the John Hughes movies I have not seen and do not plan to see, St. Elmo's Fire sure is one of them. The song is about a disabled man who inspired people by rolling himself cross-country in his wheelchair for charity, which has absolutely nothing to do with the movie. I'm disabled, and I just... okay look, what he did was admirable. But we shouldn't have to be inspirations to be counted as worthwhile, and I've been told I should die because I can't produce for capitalism, so you know. I've got some personal issues with this and I'm gonna move along.

Dire Straits -- "Money for Nothing" -- September 21, 1985

This is not Dire Straits' best song, but it's an awfully fun one. I watched the video tons when I was a kid. (That sound is Tipper Gore falling to the floor in a dead faint.) The music is great rock. And the lyrics are very true-to-life. You can either sanitize people or present them as they are honestly, and I know which I prefer.

Ready for the World -- "Oh Sheila" -- October 12, 1985

The band's from Michigan. The English accent at the beginning of the song is fake. That's a good preview for the song, which sounds like a 3rd-rate Prince knockoff at best. Blech.

a-ha -- "Take On Me" -- October 19, 1985

The video totally ripped off one of my aunts. Somehow or other, they saw into the little comic she drew for me about someone going into a land of drawings to rescue someone else in a romantic adventure, years before 1985. Anyway, this song is great musically, massively synthesizer heavy without sounding artificial. Though I can only understand maybe a third of the lyrics as he sings them. I've always understood "It's no better to be safe than sorry" though. Yep, at least when it comes to romance, which is what they're singing about here.

Whitney Houston -- "Saving All My Love for You" -- October 26, 1985

It's not better to be safe than sorry, but that doesn't mean it's good to be an absolute idiot in matters of romance either. Nor is it good to be a colossal jerk. That's what the narrator is here -- the "you" she's singing to is married. And he won't leave his wife and children, though he used to say he would. The lyrics seem to say that's she's accepted the situation, but the way Houston sings it, I think the narrator's trying to get him to leave his wife -- and children -- for her still. This makes sense, as it puts some kind of passion and sense of story into the song, which without Houston's singing would not be there. The narrator certainly never acknowledges that what she's doing is wrong in the slightest iota. This song could be done in a way that works. But it's a completely sincere ballad. So, no. I despise the narrator, I despise the man she's singing to more, and the whole thing leaves me feeling gross.

Stevie Wonder -- "Part Time Lover" -- November 2, 1985

No one's thinking anyone's gonna leave anyone in this one. It's about cheating, and the thrill of it, but then at the end, he's found out his wife's cheating on him too. "I guess that two can play the game/ Of part-time lovers." This kind of funk groove is one way you make a song like this. It makes the whole thing sexy and fun, and the lyrics also work even beyond that ending, because they acknowledge it's wrong.

Jon Hammer -- "Miami Vice Theme" -- November 9, 1985

My parents didn't watch Miami Vice. And then I never felt like watching it in re-runs when I got older. I don't recognize this song. It's an energetic instrumental, but there's so much going on, I keep trying to figure out if there's a main musical idea anywhere. Nope. Just lots and lots of synth. Headache-inducing.

Starship -- "We Built This City" -- November 16, 1985

Blech. This song sounds both unfinished and overproduced somehow. The chorus seems designed to be catchy with absolute ruthlessness by people who didn't really care, and no one involved even seems to want to bother to fake it.

Phil Collins & Marilyn Martin -- "Separate Lives" -- November 30, 1985

This is supposed to be heart-wrenchingly sad. Well, it does tank my dopamine, but that's not what a good sad song does. A good sad song makes you feel better. This one makes me need to turn on something high-energy after about 30 seconds, before I sink into bleakness. It's aggressively boring.

Mr. Mister -- "Broken Wings" -- December 7, 1985

This was one of the first songs I recorded from the radio. On my pink tape deck/radio that was a sort of a mini boom box. I've always had my own tape player since I can remember, but that was a definite upgrade from the Sesame Street one. I was 9 then, so getting more seriously into music and developing my own taste intentionally, rather than simply absorbing what was happening around me.

Anyway, the song. It's about a relationship in trouble, and he wants to stay with her. To me it sounds like she has been so seriously hurt (and not by him), that she can't trust anyone, and he's laying himself on the line for her. That has spoken to me deeply ever since I first heard the song as a child. Moving on to the music: While the lyrics are repetitive, the music is not, which is what makes the song so good. It's a beautiful song.

Lionel Richie -- "Say You, Say Me" -- December 21, 1985

I look forward to Lionel Richie no longer being on the charts. This song was on the soundtrack of some movie I've never heard of. I wish I'd never heard of the song. Totally artificial glop.

BEST OF 1985: "Don't You Forget About Me" by Simple Minds WORST OF 1985: "We Built This City" by Starship

#billboard number ones

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oddinary-investor · 4 years

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The How: Companies, Research, and Strategy. (Part 1 of 3)

A story of Sea Limited, Invitae, and Fastly

Ask an athlete how they got where they are now, and you’ll get a very generic “hard work and determination” response. This is not a bad thing, because the answer is someone’s life story. Each athlete got where they were in a unique way and each athlete’s way there was not better or worse than others… Many roads lead to the same place.

So, when I get asked about my approach to growth investing (not an expert < 1 year), I typically give a generic response. Usually not to hide any secrets, but because no one truly wants to see what goes into that. They usually just want a, “I look at blank and blank and invest in it until blank or….”, so I provide that and move on.

But if I am wrong, here’s three examples that illustrate my approach….

My new year’s resolution was to truly grab a path to financial freedom. I kicked around many ideas to make this a reality but settles on the stock market. So, I kept my 401(k) on autopilot and completely forgot about it. I wanted to open a brokerage account that could beat that retirement plan and eventually get to $1,000,00.00 before I retire from the military in 10 years. Bold plan, but I worked on mapping everything out… calculators, formulas, investment approaches, books, YouTube, etc. I was so certain this was possible, but I needed to budget heavily and make sure I could stick to my funding goals.

At the beginning of the year, I thought that focusing on dividend paying stocks would be solid. I would just use those quarterly dividends to buy more shares and over time those dividends would be larger and larger and at 4% average dividends per year, you would passively make $40k a year once a million is hit. I certainly could live with that, so I stacked the top performing dividend yielding stocks. It was a fine approach and once I get to that point dividend investing would be great. I learned quickly that dividend investing keeps you rich, while growth investing makes you rich (yes, debatable… blah blah).

The third week of January I sold every stock I had purchased, which was fine because it was essentially a break even and I would expect partial dividends at the end of the quarter. Now I was on the search to find the next Apple, Google, and Amazon, before anyone else.

January 16, 2020 – Fastly (FSLY) - 24.17 a share

In my search of the next big thing, I wanted to focus on the fastest growth stories I could find. I wanted a strictly technology company that was going to change the world. What I found was… Well, a shit ton of those companies. Like really… It was too simple… I thought I was missing something. With limited money though, I also needed a way to really focus on choosing the best of these companies. I needed rules to follow, to multiply my money, the quickest way possible. It was in this moment I knew that I made the right choice and though this wasn’t going to be a get rich quick scheme, it certainly could be a get rich quicker plan.

My January “Matt’s Investing Rules” I created during many lunch hours in our conference room at work:

1. Relatively newer SaaS companies that focused on growth over earnings.

I wanted companies that focused on subscription-based customers. I wanted all money from these companies going into growing the company, instead of sitting on cash. I don’t care if a company is profitable if this is the reason.

2. I wanted a small market cap company.

I like to look at every company as potentially growing ten times. If I can find a great company at $1 Billion market cap, I can assume that getting to $10B would be more likely than investing in Apple and thinking it will get to become 20 Trillion-dollar company. I felt Apple, Google, Amazon, and Microsoft was too easy. They are all amazing and will keep growing and making you money, but I wanted to get the next wave of companies.

3. I simply had to believe in a future with them being important.

This is probably the most important and the reason I developed so many great skills in researching companies. It forced me to watch hours upon hours of videos and presentations of companies (granted 1.5x speed settings) I was interested in. I learned as much as I could about the company and the people in charge of it, for I really liked investing in companies that are founder led. Skin in the game was appealing to me.

With these rules set in place, on January 16th, I found Fastly, Datadog, Zoom, Livongo Health, and Crowdstrike. These have all multiplied many times since then, but I don’t think that’s going to stop anytime soon. With that said, Fastly was the first company that I truly felt connected to… you know, in a weird investing way.

I found these companies, specifically Fastly, by searching for most recent IPOs (Initial Public Offering) and searching for companies that met my three basic rules. Focusing on Fastly alone—

Fastly appeared to me as a gem. A golden ticket, winning lottery number, and a double rainbow all rolled into one stock symbol: FSLY.

I knew little about what the hell they did, besides them being a less than $2 Billion dollar SaaS company, that made the internet run faster. Therefore, rule number three was crucial in developing a bond with each company I invested in. I went to The Motley Fool to read their free articles. Investopedia, Seeking Alpha, and so many other sites. I wanted to know more about this company, but it really seemed like no one really knew what they did. I remember getting exciting and losing sleep, thinking I was some genius and all I wanted was to learn more. I didn’t want to think I was seeing something people were missing to later find out I was the one missing something and lose all my money.

To learn more, I took a very interesting approach. Kidding. I just went their webpage, YouTube account, and Twitter. And out of these three, YouTube was all I needed to validate my belief in this company. Their founder and at the time CEO, Artur Berman was unlike any CEO I’ve ever seen before. Take the time and watch this sub 4-minute video of him years ago talking about how SSDs are important…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H7PJ1oeEyGg

He did not come across as someone who wanted to just grow rich from owning a mediocre company. PowerPoint slides littered with swearing and a total lack of professionalism. He certainly didn’t fit the CEO mold either when it came to looks. He reminded me (still does) of Jobs and Woz combined as one person. I was sold already, foolishly, but I wanted more so I searched all videos featuring the company and Artur.

Artur Bergman IPO Day CNBC on Cloud Computing and Competition:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M57NtJeDKLU

Why Fastly?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O0wbl9GlG-E

Obviously, I watched at least 10 more hours of videos from conferences and use cases of their company, but this is just laying out my process--

I could not see how a company that seemed so authentic was so undervalued, though, I had no idea at the time how to value a company. I just knew at the time Snapchat was considered a $13B company and Fastly basically made everything run faster. I felt the use case of Fastly, though underappreciated, was worth far more than the sub $2B market valuation.

I invested in this, along with those other gems found on the 16th of January. Over time, Fastly hardly moved, it was not performing at all. I was expecting quick money and grew frustrated with Fastly. I had seen the likes of Crowdstrike and Zoom grow in share price and for a brief period in time thought I was going to just sell Fastly and put all the money into Zoom at like 75 dollars a share (now obviously above $408 a share now lol). I decided against selling my shares and focused on the long-term goal. What I thought this company could be was still possible. Everything was going according to plan, aside from the price skyrocketing. Fastly taught me patience.-

February 27th, I told a close friend that Fastly would essentially make him rich… then the stock market collapsed.

March happened and for some reason the crash made Fastly’s stock price collapse. I remember one day it was at or close to $8 dollars a share. Clearly, I was not going to sell the shares at this much of a loss. Instead, I doubled downed. This company had enough cash on hand to make it through a year of expenses. They were a SaaS company so most of their customers had already paid for the year in January. I kept thinking, more like reassuring myself, that Fastly should benefit from work at home. The more people had to rely on the internet, the more Fastly profits. So, at $11 a share, or more than a 50% discount, I purchased 50 more shares. Now I just needed to wait…During the year, Artur Bergman stepped aside from being the CEO of Fastly. He remains with the company but stepped down to focus on the technology and growing the best company. He made the CFO the CEO and it worked out as planned.

Fastly hit $116 dollars a share in August, which made it, at that time, my fist 10x stock. It now sits are $82 dollars a share, which I can live with.

The company is still under $10B dollars of market capitalization. I will continue to hold on and wait for the next 10x… oh and I will be consistently buying more shares.

#investing #stocks #money #investinyourself #learn #inspiration #technology #fastly #story #journey

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lesbianexorcist · 4 years

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I kno chic fila is bad blah blah but some ppl are SO performative about it ‘if u eat chic fila ur TOXIC and the worst person ever’ ok chill girl u literally suck as a person and cant act like everything u consume is from ethical sources bc thats literally impossible under capitalism etc etc. anyways i hate this chick and i cant believe i befriended her a couple months ago shes such a cunt all the time im going to block her soon ❤️

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madou-dilou · 4 years

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A Requiem for Opeli, a Dragon Prince fanfic (Viren x reader) (sort of)

Despite everything your parents may have said, you enjoyed attending mass.

In the shade of the semicircular vaults of the sanctuary, in the sweet coloured lights of the stained glass windows, in the golden halos of the candles, under the benevolent eye of the saints, surrounded by six chapels for the six sources, the atoms themselves seemed to be scented with incense. Carved in stone, the acanthus flowers and strange fruits decorated the column's capitals, reminding the lost blessing of Xadia. Everything felt so dignified, so humble, so respectful, so soothing, so reliable and so reassuring that it was easy to get carried away by the choir of the nuns. The wise sermons of the High Prelate Opeli, in particular, procured such fervour that you had more than once been caught raising your hand to your chaplain when the ringing of the coins gathered for charity was heard between the rows of benches. However, it was not your habit to pay for strangers, even less for beggars. The Katolis Crown was funding enough leprosariums and hospitals to make it unnecessary for you to contribute. It was always their Majesties Harrow and Sarai who completely emptied their purses filled with gold in the baskets of the Sisters. Even the royal bastard ... what was his name again? Calleon? Callus? Caramel? Chameleon? Anyway, even he did not fail once to loosen his little chubby hands.

Thus the honour of sharing the same bench as their Majesties paid for a similar purse on pain of incurring the royal contempt, and after Their generous contributions would clink no more than mountains of little dims, pennies and piecettes.

Led by the warm alto voice of the High Prelate Opeli, the choir of the nuns spread in pious solemnities.

Et lux fontes duce nos

Defendat nos temptationem

Salvos nos fac de tenebris

Nos, agni decidantur

Dimitte nobis debita nostra

Dona nobis gratia Hi autem de Xadia

On your right, Lady Vassileia yawned. You gave her a nudge:

"Ouch!" she protested softly enough not to interrupt the psalm of the High Prelate. "I wasn't even asleep!"

"Liar," you whispered to her. "Raise your head and listen."

Vassilea had a broken pout that her lace mantilla could not conceal:

"After our phenomenal bender last night, I wonder by what miracle I was able to drag myself to the sanctuary."

You could hardly blame her. In the euphoria that followed your tenth perfect execution of the complex Jarnac move, you had invited your fencing master and your best friend to celebrate the event with a glass of fine wine, a secular cuvée stung in the cellars of the castle in the provinces. One glassful had become a fifth, a tenth, a fifteenth, and to the wise and poignant melody of Who covets the lady the husband must kill had succeeded the bawdy and raucous notes of A sublimated dead for my rising athame, and this until very late at night.

"And not just any rotgut, please!"

"Some Sang-Réal! Heavens, are you insane!" cried Vassilea, seeing you go up from the cellars with two bottles under each arm. "But what will your parents say?"

"Nothing, as usual: they are buried in their books!" had you retorted. "The courses at the University take so much and so much time and energy from them, because who, yes, who will be able to deliver the little people from the sterile dogmas of Faith if not Their Nobility and Their Bookish Knowledge ?!"

The Royal University of Katolis had only opened its gates fifteen years earlier, - it was the late King Harrow's father who inaugurated it. Still, its fame was already reaching every corner of the Pentarchy. Students were taught about everything, aside from dark magic, of course. Mathematics, geometry, geography, politics, history, philosophy, astronomy, ancient draconic, neolandian, evenerian, delbarian, durennian, rhetoric, logic, literature, theology, accounting. Even corpse dissection was taught in this place, despite being legalised only twenty years before- the Faith had uttered loud cries, and it was necessary to double the theology courses to calm their whinings.

"After the hollering that the Faith gave when the Toreha was printed," joked your lord of a father, "no one wants to suffer its snivelling ever again !"

"Everyone has their own copy and everyone can now interpret it in their own way!" added madam your mother. "Obviously, the Faith does not want to lose its grip on consciences!"

"The Faith lost it a long time ago already" snickered sir, "and despite all High Prelate Opeli's booing and hooing to the Council. On the contrary, even, that only demonstrates the truth: if It struggles, it is that it's dying! But, (name), my darling", he added conspiratorially, "won't you shout it all over the place, hm? You know how much displaying scepticism is frowned upon. "

Only the nobles had the privilege of teaching at the Royal University of Katolis, for the moment at least. On the actions took for the education of the little people, to lower the cost of paper and to improve printing techniques, invented some two hundred years earlier, returned the credit for the meteoric increase in the number of students. Even if most of them came from the bourgeoisie and the nobility, and even if the printing works were strictly supervised by a censorship council which limited as much as possible the dissemination of pamphlets and more or less fraudulent wisdom, it was inevitable that this storm of knowledge would trickle over each layer of the population, from the marquis in his castle to the boggy swamp. The Toreha will kill the Church, they said, from murmurs to pamphlets to late drinking in manors, and Human will kill the old Gods of Xadia ...

The nuns' choir continued its hymn in the triforium:

Mors, et vita in morte Fontes nos in deliberationibus

De veteris Dryadalis Xadia quidem apostolos luminis

Accipient in humanitate

Et propitius ero peccatis nostris

Et pascam eorum magicae

Vassiléa yawned to unhook her jaw:

"And then what idea you had of placing us in the last row!" she whimpered as the High Prelate Opeli piously licked a finger to turn a page of the Toreha. "I can't see a drop of it. As if ancient draconic wasn't enough..."

"It's not my fault that we arrived late," you whisper with dignity. "If you had stirred a little earlier, maybe we would be ..."

" You little liar," whispered Vassiléa. "Look at me all these splendid attires. It is surely not to honour the Holy Sources that you took all this trouble ... You have always disdained mass, like your bookworms of parents. Well, I grant you", she added, her eyes bright with mischief," having a job requires a lot of energy ... "

"It isn't even a real job," you protested, feeling the shame rising to your cheeks. "It's generosity, and it has absolutely nothing to do with it."

Vassiléa ignored you royally and whispered in the same mocking tone:

"It is not in the first row that you have the best view, but in the last…"

"I beg your pardon ?"

"… you are not at mass for a priestess but a priest…"

"Vassilea!" you squeaked as silently as possible.

No priest had ever seen himself in the Holy Faith of Pyrenees. The white habit had always been worn by women. If men could regroup in monasteries or abbeys, it would be forever impossible for them to say mass and to pronounce even a single parody of the sacrament. Unless, of course, the reform project discussed for years by the Conclave finally comes to an end, but given the Prelates mulish brains, that was not for the next day ahead.

"You are our soul, our hope and our salvation, Lost sources of Xadia," babbled Opeli far ahead under the stone vaults. "You who were generous enough to give us life and teach us forgiveness and mercy, may you forgive the arrogance of some black sheep and bad apples ..."

"… a divorced priest moreover," persisted Vassilea, "willingly perjury about the vow of chastity, decked out in two brats, dressed endlessly in black and not in white, versed in goety, dissection, the dark arts, spells, occult practices and hmmm, anatomy… "

" Blah, blah, blah, I can't hear anything, the sweet voice of the High Prelate lifts me up in the divine light of the Sources ... and then all that is part of his charm..."

" ... whose arrogant air makes him barely bearable to almost half the yard ..."

" Not even true..."

"… whose endless snoring invariably prevents the whole court from hearing mass ..."

" Vassilea!" you exclaim loud enough to attract a "hush!" imperious from this old cold-fish of Lord Thibalt, sitting in front of you.

"… and whose huge ivory cane that he drags everywhere," replied Vassilea when the gargoyle had turned, "most certainly serves to compensate for a little something."

You suddenly turned your head to your right. Fortunately, the handsome, oh, so handsome talker, who even in his snoring sleep could not leave those, oh, so concerned features, had heard nothing of it. His daughter, on the other hand, a frail brat about seven years old, stuck to her father, looked up from her enormous book and threw a glance at you and your companion, so cold that you both shivered.

"Dirty little mongrel of a chick-crow," you thought, and you tightened your silk mantilla around your carefully braided bun.

Rumours and speculations concerning the kinship of Lord Viren's two children (Soren, nine, and Claudia, seven) were rife at court. They had been assigned for example the High Prelate - she and Viren bickered with such ardour that it could not have happened something between these two. His legendary aversion to clerics added to the strict prohibition of the latter from carrying offspring only made the thing spicier: The Dove and the Crow, what a beautiful heading for a song! Amongst the candidates were also Lady Esmeraldine, because she had black hair and green eyes like Claudia and, as the Queen's servant, some contacts were far from improbable; Erichtoë, a luscious Durenian servant who was said to know something about dark magic; and many others ... Even Queen Sarai had not been spared by hearsay. You had just arrived at the court when this stupid idea had crossed your mind. In your eyes, there was no doubt that a passionate threesome stood at the top of power.

« I don't know where you get these wacky ideas from," your mother sighed when you told her about your suspicions, "because it's common knowledge that the know-it-all crow Lord Viren divorced just two years ago."

You had shrugged. This version was not very compelling. Or, perhaps mentioning the difficulties opposed by the Faith to this still new practice ... but that was not worth the salt of the love triangle.

"And then," continued your mother, "It is enough to look at the queen to see that she refrains from strangling our Grand Mage as soon as he pretends to approach his majesty."

"Precisely," had you insisted, "Is this not proof of bold jealousy between these three? The tension is, at the very least, overwhelming. They spend all their days stuck together. They've known each other for years. And the little prince gets along wonderfully with Soren and Claudia, and he has green eyes like her, and ... "

"Listen, my dear," sighed your mother again, for she spoke only with a sigh, "you better get down to something useful. Or upping your nose with a rubber hose, because in case it escaped your piercing gaze, which I very much doubt, I try to analyse this most boring theology work for my next conferences. "

"But come on, mother ..."

"Frankly," she continued without even listening to you because she never listened to you, "I thank the printing press every day for existence. I can hardly imagine the despair of the unfortunate copyist who had to spend whole years on this crystal-waving nonsense ... "

Whether their progenitor was the fairy queen, a whore from the Suburb of Pillows or a laboratory test tube, little Soren and Claudia were both brought up at court. Despite their promptitude to sneak into the kitchens to raid the jams, to giggle at jokes of a very bad taste or understood only by themselves and to enrage the castle's guards with their tricks; each of them was promised to more than prominent positions.

By the-Sources-knew what bewitchment, Lord Viren had even obtained a very express favour from Their Majesties, however renowned for their intransigence: Soren could miss Sunday Mass (a privilege that the whole court envied him) to participate in the training of the royal guards. Or to parasitise, depends on your allegiance. Claudia meanwhile was required to attend sermons - and as her father's daughter and rightful heir, did not listen to a word of it and always brought enormous books to pass the time. Without willing the fantasy as far as becoming their second mother, you would readily see yourself as a benevolent and affectionate but firm chaperone. A veneer of manners would not do them any harm, did you dream in the secret of your room, and then their father would undoubtedly be delighted to see them find back a semblance of balance.

"Love your enemies," announced the High Prelate far to the other end of the nave, "do good, and lend without hoping for anything. And your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the All-Mighty Sources, for They are good even for the ungrateful and for the bad. "

Her Holiness licked her finger again and turned a page of her copy of the Toreha. Someone in the audience yawned loudly. Several had begun to doze. Viren jumped, fell asleep again, snored more and Claudia horned a corner of her book.

You reached into your pocket and felt the silk of the honey candy bag. Without a doubt, Soren and Claudia would appreciate this little something special. It was a well-known fact that every child loved honey candies. Viren, on the other hand…

Your hand came to curl around the second gift. You did not have to dig your brains too hard to find it, this one: it was the magic oyster from which came out the few precious pearls that you had sown here and there during this memorable evening, two weeks ago ...

Of all the balls celebrating the arrival of spring, Lord Viren had deigned to present himself to only one. However, he distinguished himself by his ease. His tall stature and haughty manners frightened the dancers, but you had not been intimidated. Oh, you still had chills just by thinking of the way his arms tightly surrounded you, hugged you gently as he spun you in music and a storm of silk.

"You dance marvellously, my lord," you had extricated yourself.

"You too, madam."

Then, silence. You had the most considerable difficulty speaking, breathing and thinking while you were in the arms of the High Mage. Not to mention that you have to unscrew your neck to be able to look it in the eyes. I dance with him, he talks to me, touches me. You could perceive the warmth and the firm muscles of his long body through the black brocade.

"Are you still so charming, or is it my lucky day?"

"Is it your rule to speak while dancing?"

You were not going to let yourself be dismantled for so little. You get a new sense of ease in the rhythm of the flute, the viol and the tambourine before responding.

"Only if I consider my partner as worthy of this honour."

Oh, he was worth all the trouble in the world, actually. Particularly draped in this half-cape of black brocade stapled in purple, in this tunic embroidered with sand arabesques, which espoused its movements so gracefully. His beautiful grey eyes narrowed:

"You are too kind. In comparison, my ignorance makes me feel ashamed. I cannot even remember your name."

Had you been a sort of chippy, you would have taken offence and left him there, but you only managed to emit a charmed chuckle as the music sent you to rotate each on its own:

"Oh, your remarkable brain must simply take note of too many things essential to the prosperity of Katolis ..." You accepted his gentle hand around your fingers. "... to think of cluttering up such trivialities."

He laughed, visibly flattered. What a charming laugh he has, you thought.

"Imagine, madam, a demarcated space that you divide in half. You can always divide the two halves into two other halves, and so on."

You were well aware of this paradox. Your parents had bent your hear with it for years; but now that it was spoken in such a low voice, with such gallant inflexions, you found in it all the charms of the world. What could be more normal, coming from a dark mage, and therefore an expert in charms, bewitchments, spells and incantations?

"So this is how memory works, in your opinion: infinitely expandable?"

Viren drew you close to him, and you found that this slightly interested expression suited him perfectly.

"Would you be so fond of paradoxes, my dear ..."

"(name)," you confessed, and you felt yourself blushing even more.

He looked thoughtful, but the two of you jumped at the cry from the pastry buffet: "Hey, father! Try "Cumulonimbus "!". You looked over your partner's large shoulder and the dancing couples to see the two chick-crows, Soren and Claudia, who, spurting out a storm of jelly tarts crumbs, giggled and exchanged elbows.

"Uh, I beg your pardon me, my lord," you stammered, disconcerted, "but ... what did your son just say ?"

Viren then rolled his eyes in the most exasperated expression you had ever seen:

"Something stupid, I'm afraid."

You separated for a few measures before coming back into each other's arms. Oh, those severe features... you felt like his solid arm around your waist was about to leave you, for all your beautiful assurance had abandoned you. Dirty brats ... a pox on them and their incomprehensible bellowings!

"Madam, tell me something."

You thought you heard it wrong. "I beg your pardon, my lord?"

"Tell me something." he went on, in the satisfied tone of someone who had spared his little effect. "If what you say is true, I will give you the next dance. Otherwise, I will leave you there."

You were propelled on a small primitive candy pink cloud while the viol flew away in the treble. The magic of the Sky-Wing elves surged through your human veins, and that of the Star-Touch sparkled your eyes. It was one of your parents' favourite paradoxes. Viren made it easy for you. He rolled out the red carpet for you, he tore the breach apart for you. To believe that he really wanted to feel your hand pass through his well-groomed hair, caress his sharp cheekbone, flatter his so baroque beard, follow the outline of these oh-so-concerned eyebrows, pass the alliance around this ring finger…

Just as you were about to mischievously pronounce the magic formula "You are going to leave me there", the music abruptly slowed down and stopped. The dancers were already bowing, including yourself, and looking up, Viren looked at you with such a contemptuous air that you were left breathless. Oh, but what made me wait so long? you vexed yourself, watching his black half-cape fall gracefully as he walked away towards the-Sources-knew-where, probably towards the cheese buffet, or pray her Grace Sarai to honour him with a dance, or interrupt the last marvellous idea of his brats. He took my silence for hesitation and foolishness. Oh, I ruined everything ...

And today was the perfect opportunity to correct the situation.

Having taken great care to your hair - carefully twisted by your maid in a braided updo in elven fashion, your outfit - purple silks embroidered with red, gold brooch and bear arms, and your perfume - you had tried one half a dozen before setting your sights on a rose fragrance; in short, you had carefully put all the odds on your side.

Of course, you were under no illusions: your good looks were not your only asset, far from it. Lord Viren was known for his unconditional love of libraries, being buried in books very late at night to the point that he had lost the use of beds to prefer that of the oh so uncomfortable benches of the Sanctuary. So your hand caressed the little volume in your pocket with all the kindness in the world. Enigmas, paradoxes and insoluble problems, headlined the cover page. And, calligraphed just below by your quill pen: "except perhaps for you." You had hesitated with "except, for you, perhaps", or "for you, except, perhaps", and to finish off with a "my lord", which gave a choice: "except perhaps for you, my lord "," except, my lord, perhaps for you "," My lord, except, for you, perhaps "and "for you, my lord, except, perhaps.". Then you realised that the formula would probably be too full to suit the close friendship to which you aspired, which made you set your sights on the first attempt. A close friendship, and maybe more. You simply added your first name and tenderly blew on the still fresh ink. Just your first name: there was no doubt that the dance was still as vivid in his memory as it was in yours.

"The Sources teach us that love is given without expecting anything in return," babbled the High Prelate under the vaults once the nuns had finished their pious fourths, fifths and sixths, "and that one can't buy love. They brought Xadia out of nothing, overwhelmed it with their generosity and their benevolence, expecting nothing in return for the spread of this love and this ... this ... "

You were drawn out of your flowery thoughts by the rustling of unsuccessfully turned pages, followed by annoyed mumbles. You and Vassilea unscrew your necks together: far away at the other end of the nave, Opeli was fighting with her copy of the Toreha:

"This ... forgive me, my lords, but this page ..."

She licked her finger, pinched the paper, muttered insults to the fool who had used this new printing ink which made the vellum stick, removed her richly decorated copy from the varnished ebony lectern. In the audience, there were wonderings, whisperings, chuckling.

"Opeli, perhaps I can provide you some help…"

"No, your Grace, you, slurp, you are very kind, but ... but ..."

You risked a glance to your right. If Viren still hadn't quit his sleepiness, you found that Claudia was exceptionally agitated, all of a sudden. Her back was shaken with convulsions, and her little legs were frantic in the incense dust. Look at her fidgeting on her bench. It's as if she had the devil in her.

"Is it me or ... is she just dying of laughter?" you murmured, but Vassilea did not hear you, as busy as she was babbling with her neighbour in front.

Should I have the sleeper? You caught yourself thinking you might wake him up with a kiss. However, you were torn from your reveries by the sound of a cough that emanated from the other end of the nave. Increasingly puzzled glances were exchanged. People left their drowsiness, people quit their reverie, people stopped cleaning their nails or their noses. The concerned survey flew from look to look and from mouth to mouth. Voices and coughs rose under the vaults of the sanctuary. Some rose from their benches and gathered around the gaping High Prelate; however, Queen Sarai had removed her her hood, opened the collar of her cassock and started to give her massive pats on the back while His Majesty cried out to let her some space. The little prince started to cry.

"No, kof, sire, I assure you ... I swear that everything is, kof, kof, perfectly, huurng... perfectly fine!" assured the High Prelate, whose borborygmus intensified until nausea.

"Breathe, Opeli, just breathe, that's it! Oh, you, just move away, you scavengers !"

However, the movement began to gain assistance, including nuns. Useless prayers were muttered, inutiles advices were shouted. The benches and the triforiums began to bleat like the lambs from the Toreha. Half of them were standing, wringing their necks for a better view. The other, whether driven by the opportunity to seize or seized themselves by fear, rushed casually through the central alley and the aisles towards the portal of the sanctuary with one idea: be with the devil as soon as possible.

"(name), come on! Get up!" peeped Vassiléa, grabbing your shoulder. She was apparently part of the second category.

It would have been wise to follow her, but you were as if you were screwed to your bench. And this little chick-crow choking on laughter. Poison, did you understand. Poison on the very pages of the Toreha.

You bound from the bench and grabbed Viren's shoulder. He was the only sleeper who hadn't woken up.

"My lord, get up!" you bellowed. "We have to go!"

"What are you doing? Just drop him!" squealed Vassilea before joining the silk tidal wave.

Faced with Viren who continued to snore, you hesitated to give him a slap. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Claudia suddenly calming down. This child is mad, you thought, stark raving mad. From the chick-crow's lips pulled out something strange, which you did not understand. Then her eyes opened on a purple glow. An abyss of purple. You jumped, wanted to silence her, but could only remain crucified on the spot. So that's what Dark Magic is. When, in Claudia's eyes, a void of darkness replaced the purple, making her look like a fly, you knew this was the end. The Romanesque portal of the Sanctuary was wide open, and daylight pierced the nave on all sides. There was no one left under the vaults. Except for the convulsing, gaping High Prelate, the royal family, yourself, Lord Viren and ... this little witch ...

You close your eyes and prepare to die. Ô Six lost Sources of Xadia. In the name of the Sky, the Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Earth and the Ocean. Amen.

A few seconds later, you opened an eye.

"Ho!" resounded the voice of the High Prelate, whose inflexions no longer foreshadowed imminent death. "I'm finally breathing!"

You swivelled and watched their Majesties pick up Opélie, hair undone, the collar wide open, the silver tiara crooked and the hood in disorder, but the skin as white and smooth as usual. "May the Sources be praised -burp… ha!"

To the cry of surprise echoed a ridiculous sound ... but so characteristic.

"Crôaaa."

Then, silence.

"Is it ... a toad?" you heard. Her Grace Sarai sounded just as lost as you were.

You had a thrill of horror. You had a holy terror of toads.

The king did not reply. Opeli, back on her feet, watched the beast hopping on the pavement of the sanctuary.

"What is... Six Sources, I..."

Hup ! A second one bound out from her lips. This is but a dream, you told to yourself, your nails clenching into your flesh. Nothing but a very strange dream, and I'm about to wake up.

"What the fuck is that..." her Grace Sarai muttered, back to her old soldiery level of language.

The little royal mongrel bent down, trembling, and picked up one while Opeli was getting her clothes together with a frenetic hurry. "It's a toad, mommy."

No one said a word, except the beasts which were going on with their grotesque wanderings under the high vaults in the sepulchral silence. From jump to jump, the little gargoyles were sauntering under the great saints' stone eyes. The incense was struggling to hide the smell of carrion with rose from the kings asleep under the marble. The candle's tiny glims almost had something pathetic. The dawn's daylight was splinting through the vitrals and the portal wide open like a wound. It was drowning the pious penumbra in a chasm of white light. Those little monsters appeared only clearer.

The stones had echoed nothing but nun's canticles, ever, but neither the Sources nor the gigantic wrapped praying statues rose to smite the outrage. The minuscule blasphemers were jumping and croaking in the holy light with complete impunity.

"Crôa."

You took a few steps in the centre alley, towards the altar, but you stopped, unable to move forward.

King Harrow seemed to be about to open his mouth when two chuckles rose into the nave, very close to you, two high-pitched laughs, two children's laughs, joined by a third one, lower and more discrete. Apparently, Lord Viren had woken up... and was laughing with Claudia while the other crow-chick, Soren, arose from behind a pillar, spitting out all his lungs by dint of laughing. He was the one who laughed the loudest.

But wasn't he supposed to be paraziting the royal guards' training? you heard yourself thinking, while Opeli stammered, straightening her cassock's collar :

"Lord Viren, will you, at last, explain to me what's going on in there ?"

As he didn't answer, to busy to retain a laugh, she rose her voice :

"As if you weren't satisfied enough with disturbing the mass..."

She put her hand to her mouth, to her stomach, bent over in two: wasted effort. A third toad leaps again from her pious lads, redoubling the hilarity of the crows family. You were speechless. To see Viren laugh so bluntly, he whose features were known as nothing but deeply thoughtful, exasperated by the stupidity of others or at best the vaguely contrite or amused grin; that was at least as extraordinary as the presence of toads.

«Opeli, say something religious." suddenly said Sarai, to the astonishment of sane people.

"I beg your pardon?" Opeli said «, and a fourth beast came to complete the croaking concert.

The crows chortled again. The din through the transepts, the triforiums, the naves, the crypts, the chapels, it aroused so much and so much echo that it seemed sanctuary's walls were going to crumble, collapse and fall too.

"My lord!" intervened the queen, and her voice resounded so dryly in the nave that the laughter died immediately, "Would you be kind enough to explain to us the reason for this masquerade. That you invariably spend the whole mass snoring because you are not surprised by your own grandeur, we can accept; but I will not tolerate your preventing ... "

"Oh no, your Grace," he replied. He had risen all at once, to his full height, and had even engaged his mage scepter by banging it against the marble paving which resounded loudly under the vaults; you were amazed by the coldness dryness of his deep voice. "Believe me, I had no idea what was going on today. I swear."

"The word of a dark mage? The big deal - burp!" spat the High Prelate as, summoned by the concept "Word", a fifth beast came to join its comrades. The king glared at her, and she remained silent:

"In this case, how do you explain this masquerade?"

"Mascewhat?" repeated the blond chick-crow with a perfectly bewildered expression.

You suddenly found back all your senses and your reason. Your hand was raised, and your index finger was planted on Claudia, whose face was ravaged by a barely contained giggle:

"She did this!" you denounced, and the resonance of your own voice surprised you.

The look that Viren gave you pierced your heart.

A look to blast Justice herself.

Gazing around, you realised that even their Majesties were frankly disapproving. The betrayal was all the more burning. Here you were who found yourself making common cause with the sanctimonious clap-trap spitter...

Soren stood in front his sister, his fists clenched, ready to fight, but the little girl released the hand that her father had put on her shoulder:

"It was Soren's idea, but I am indeed the prime contractor!" she squealed in a tone of immeasurable pride. "Well, the powder on the book, it was me, I had read it in a novel! It took me weeks to finish this selenic powder, especially since it had to stick to the pages without being seen! "

Your gaze came to rest on the Toréha, which had fallen from the lectern to crash on the ground. "After the bawling with which the Faith stunned us when Toreha was printed two hundred years ago, no one wants to undergo its whining again. Everyone has their copy now, and everyone can now interpret it in their own way!" Although only a printed copy, this book was made according to the rules of art. The illuminations were each hand-painted. The cover alone, crimson leather inlaid with precious stones, was a real work of art. Most of the pages had fallen from the fall, and the glue would render the copy forever unusable.

You had never been very fond of books, but this truth shook you.

"And we also had to put some in the holy water stoup so that everyone receives a little!"

"Ah," muttered the mage, "so that's why you insisted that I dip my hands in it…"

"Yes, and then a spot of dark magic so the prank more would be even more credible -"

"A prank?" remonstrated the High Prelate. "A prank! I almost died, your Majesties, you are witnesses! This child tried to poison me! You will not tell me that I am over-principles!"

You nodded with firmness.

"These ... creatures are from the selenial-shadowed magic," Viren explained in a low voice as if he was lecturing some of complete bonehead, "commonly known as "moon magic", which places them under the seal of illusions. Not only visual ones but also tactile, olfactory and auditory."

He put his staff against the bench with a thousand precautions - the object did not echoed less loudly, then he hunched his endless spine and bent his knee to grab one of the little blasphemers, then straightened up and began to pat it with the palm of his hand:

"In other words, these toads are only the product of a gigantic collective hallucination, and the Your Holiness's convulsions are only the natural reaction of a human body solicited from within by primal magic. It was nothing but an illusion, my lady, which means that at no time were you in danger of death. "

A dismayed silence followed the declaration. The infamous beasts pursued their a capella which resounded under the pious crossheads of warheads. Never had they seemed so real.

You took a deep breath, wiped your hands in your fine gown, bend down in a silk frill and overcame your repulsion to catch one of those. The coldness and the roughness of the pustular skin, the fixedness of the globular eyes, the absence of muzzle, the greyish colour, the viscosity of the drool which flowed in your hand. By the Sources, what a horror ... a grimace of pure disgust distorting your features, you closed your eyes, then your fist, suddenly. You open your eyes, your hand: nothing.

Your empty palm was stared at, then the abandoned benches and triforiums as well.

The idea that the Sanctuary had been deserted, emptied and ridiculed by the fault of mere chimaeras was almost simply inconceivable.

No conversation, no essay, no pamphlet, no book or rant had ever laid bare such a decay. The printing might have dug its grave, but it was simply inconceivable that the collapse would take so little, so little ... A shiver ran through your spine. The Toreha killed the Church, and the Human killed the Sources.

Opeli put her hand to her mouth, bur nothing came out.

"However," said Viren, who still continued to caress his toad, in a softer voice, a fascinated and even admiring tone, "it is the first time in my life that I have seen such tangible illusions and - "

"You, you will have plenty others occasions to show off, but right now, stop this," interrupted Sarai as little Claudia displayed a smug smile of pride. "You two," she went on to the address of the two chick-crows, stop all this shi ... pandemonium. At once."

As if with regret, Claudia pulled out a collar from under her collar and pulled out a shrivelled toad leg from her bag.

"Wait a minute!" Opeli interrupted her incisively. "I hope you don't plan on using dark magic in here! "

"Well, madam," said Viren, "it's either that or you spend the rest of your life spitting illusions and chimaeras. Oh, silly me, that's already the case ..."

"I BEG YOUR PARDON?! -burps! ha, you dirty beast!"

"Crôaaaa!"

"Enough, both of you!" growled the king, in the tone of someone who felt the headache coming.

The endless squabbles of the High Mage and the High Prelate were an integral part of court life, and they were regarded with a particular mixture of fun and lassitude, a bit like watching a brat always laughing at the same joke. Today, however, did not seem in the mood to tolerate their tussles. His Majesty, moreover, had not finished:

"Among all that you could have offered your father," he belched in a tone where pierced like a kind of mischief, "did your choice absolutely had to fall on this farce?"

"Hmm?" said Viren, stopping to caress the toad, which landed very unsightly on the marble paving. "What did you say ?"

You suddenly remembered the weight clogging your pocket and bit your lips.

Viren frowned. Opeli would have proposed to him that he did not look more dazed.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FATHER!" bellowed Soren, without taking into account the resonance of the sanctuary which made the audience wince.

"Did you enjoy the show?" asked Claudia, pulling on the velvet doublet. "You had a lot of fun, huh, right?" Then, as he didn't answer, "Did you ? Yes, you did, did you ? Huh? Huh? Huh, right?"

"Right, dad! Right! Dadadadadadadadadadad -"

Your hand tightened around the small book. Insoluble enigmas, problems and paradoxes, except perhaps for you.

"Dadadadadadadadadaaaaaad -." The croaks of toads and crows, they made quite a duet.

A true Requiem... and not only to your blended family dreams.

Your eyes turned to the High Prelate. She was just as flabbergasted as you were, judging by her stillness and her gaping mouth. The stone seemed to have swallowed her. Petrified. A new statue for the nave, you thought, holy, helpless, pious and terrified facing the march of Progress. This wasn't just the white dove reached by the toad's drool. This wasn't just some sort of priestess carrion over which crows would have a feast on among her fellows dead villagers. This was the terror of the woman of the sanctuary in front of the lead letters, of the silver tiara in front of the race of time, the terror of the priesthood in front of the changing souls.

As you pinged in a whirlwind of silk, perfume, incense, discomfiture and disarray towards the portal of the sanctuary, you heard his Majesty inquiring with all the good nature of the world:

"Maybe you could stop the illusion now?"

"Yes," added her Grace, "it seems to me that you had enough fun for today. Or, wait, maybe you can tinker us some illusion of High Prelate, now that you've broken this one ? "

"Sarai!"

"What? I'm not right? Look at that, darling, it's not moving anymore. Oh, Opeli, please shut that mouth, or you're going to attract flies. And then, come on, smile a little, hey ! It's not the end of the world !"

"Ah, well, it seems you also broke your father, here he is petrified on the spot. They pair well, aren't they? Viren, if I say "history book"," melting camembert" or "crème brûlée torched with whiskey", will you find back the use of your smile or your legs? Aaaah, there, you see!"

"Oh, what a happy, united family... Aaaaaaw, you are so cute when you are happy, Viren !"

"Actually, no, you should stop smiling, it becomes really unhealthy. "

"Crôa, crôa, crôaaa."

"Callum, drop this notebook and this pencil! And you two, stop with these toads, that's enough!"

The last thing you heard before closing the gate on the tomb of the Age of the Gods was the voice of Viren:

"Oh no, Claudia."

Then: "Leave them a little longer, will you?"

And there you go ! : D

Well, I warned you that it was a somewhat special Viren x reader ...

But, I mean, look at the scene where Viren takes power Napoleon style (the one where he is a thousand times sexier than all the scenes of Aaravos put together): everyone completely ignores Opélie to acclaim Viren the Savior ... Okay, everyone is terrified of the elves, all right, but that's not enough to ignore the Church, the law and traditions. There had to be some deeper reasons. Same for Harrow's communism, moreover, he is so enlightened for an absolute monarch of divine right that it can only come from an intellectual broth having macerated for decades, even centuries ... And then look all these huge libraries throughout the castle! Look at how nobody cares about Opeli throughout the series!

I hope you enjoyed the dance in the arms of the dark, tall and handsome advisor ;) and that seeing the Magefam reunited and happy put a little balm in your heart during this complicated period. Fluff, fluff: 3

Reviews are appreciated :3

#viren #opeli #viren x reader #fanfiction #tdp fanfiction #tdp world-building #tdp viren #reader #religion in TDP

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lovemesomesurveys · 5 years

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-What was the last song that you sang out loud? I’ve had Dance Again by Selena Gomez stuck in my head.

-If someone has bad breath, do you tell him or her? No :X I’m the worst about that stuff cause people will tell you they would want you to tell them, but I just feel so awkward about it and like how do you even bring something like that up? I mean, I have done the thing where I get some gum and offer them some haha, but I don’t tell them their breath smells.

-With which friend are you most likely to share a secret? I share my secrets with ya’ll and Twitter, ha.

-Do you have an item that comforts you when you are sad/scared? No. Well, unless count my phone cause I can use the YouTube app and listen to ASMR, which is calming for me.

-When are you likely to hide your emotions? I do that majority of the time. Well, try to. I downplay them a lot. I’m not as good at it anymore as I used to be. These past few years my emotions started taking over and getting the best of me. When I’m in a mood, I shut down and just get quiet and standoffish. If you talk to me, I’m short and you can just see all over my face.

-Which is scarier: Dying of thirst or of starvation? Both would be horrible.

-Who was the last person to take your breath away? I haven’t felt that way from a person in a very long time.

-When you turn on the TV, what channel do you flip to? My go-to channels to check first are always E! and MTV. If nothing of interest is on, then I just scroll through the guide. It also depends on the time of day.

-Have you ever tried to help someone quit smoking? No.

-What was the last comment someone made on your music taste? I don’t recall.

-Where do you go/what do you do when you need to calm down? My bed. I’ll typically listen to an ASMR video and probably find a survey to ramble about it in and/or tweet about it. Okay let’s be real, before I do any of that I probably have a good cry first.

-What was the last mess you cleaned up? Uhh I mean, I threw away my paper plate and napkins I used yesterday after I finished eating.

- [TW] Have you ever had to talk anyone out of suicide? Yes.

-When you think of tomorrow, what feelings come to mind? Nothing.

-Who, in your opinion, has an amazing voice? Demi Lovato first came to mind. She sang the hats and helmets off of everyone during her Super Bowl performance of the National Anthem.

-Would you ever camp out on a beach, under the stars? No.

-What is the last thing you complained about? Not feeling well and about how achey I am.

-What was the last curse-word you said? Probably “shit.”

-When you fake sick to get out of school, what do you say or do to convince your parents that you are sick? I’m 30 years old and no longer in school, but when I was younger I didn’t really have to do that because I felt sick often enough.

-How did you recover from your last bout of tears? I cried them all out and then just did my usual activities (Tumblr, surveys, YouTube, watched TV).

-Do you still talk to your very first best friend? No.

-When was the last time something went terribly wrong? Blah.

-How do you console someone when he or she is upset? I’m soooo awkward when it comes to that. I just let them vent if they need to, but I struggle with what to say and do.

-Have you ever seen either one of your parents cry? I’ve seen both and it’s the worst thing ever to me. I hate seeing one of my parents cry.

-Choose one: Trip to outerspace, or trip underneath the oceans? Oh jeez, you just listed a couple of my biggest fears.

-How often do you feel overwhelmed? Often.

-How do you deal with everyday life? I...don’t. :/

-Do you have any secret obsessions or guilty pleasures? Nah. I’m not ashamed of any of the things I like.

-Aside from on this survey, what was the last thing you wrote about? Whatever I last tweeted. I forget.

-Who in your family do you act like the most? I have a lot of my dad’s personality traits. He’s moody, irritable, and easily stressed and overwhelmed. Sound familiar?

-What is the most romantically sweet thing someone has done for you? Ty did a lot of things. The thing that always stands out is one year during Christmas he drove to my house one night because had a present for me and it consisted of little things that I mentioned briefly that I liked and it was just really sweet cause it showed he was actually listening and paying attention. The fact he remembered and then went out and bought those things for me was just really, really sweet. He was so excited to give it to me. He didn’t want me to open them right then, he wanted me to wait until Christmas and send him a video of me opening them so he could see my reaction.

-When you go out to the mall, do people stare? When I go anywhere in public people stare.

-Have you ever been confronted by a mall cop for your behavior? No, but I did have one tell me to take my hood off haha. I just came in and it was raining and he came up to me like, “you need to take off your hood.” Like okay jeez.

-What just tears at your heartstrings? Hearing about a child dying or being abused. Animal abuse, too. Breaks my heart.

-Is there a show you swear that you will never watch? I don’t feel that strongly, but there’s a lot of shows I have no interest in watching.

-What was the last topic that you ranted about? I don’t remember.

-Is there someone that makes you feel like you’re walking on eggshells? Sometimes. I’ve been told people feel that way around me as well.

-Were you ever afraid of one of your past teachers? No.

-Have you ever been in a physical fight on school grounds? No. Or ever.

-Have you written anything in a bathroom stall? What, if anything? Nope.

-Is your school like the drama capital of the country? I wasn’t involved in any of that when I was in school. I heard some stuff, but I wasn’t all invested in it like a lot of people.

-A homeless man asks you for 50 cents; how do you respond? If I have it, sure. I don’t usually have any change or cash on me, though.

-When was the last time you visited a thrift store? I don’t go to any.

-Can you handle constructive criticism? I can’t say I wouldn’t feel some type of way about it, ha. I’m just a sensitive bitch. Guess it would depend on what it was about, though. Like if someone was like, “hey, red doesn’t really look great with your skin tone and it clashes with your hair, you shouldn’t wear that” I wouldn’t care. I’d still wear it if I wanted.

Who is the most sensitive person that you know? Meeeee.

-Have you ever had a tooth (or teeth) pulled? Yes.

-You can have one famous person’s wardrobe; who do you choose, and why? I guess someone who was very casual like me and likes to wear graphic tees and leggings. I’d like to have their collection, ha.

-When was the last time you wrote someone a note? I have no idea.

-Do you tell your parents before you go somewhere, or just leave? My family and I are 4 adults living together and we all tell each other when we’re leaving and where we’re going. It’s just our thing. If something were to happen, we’d at least have an idea of where the other was headed. And it’s just common courtesy to us to say goodbye.

-What was the last thing you tried to get out of doing? I’d like to get out of my doctor appointment this afternoon. I’m still recouping.

-On average, how many surveys do you fill out in one day? It varies. Usually a few. Some days more than others.

-How many hours a day do you spend on Bzoink? I don’t use Bzoink.

-Which season do you dread the most? Summer D: It seems to go on forever and it just gets SO hot and miserable here.

-Do you ever brag about your achievements? I’ve never been one to brag. Not that I have anything to brag about, but it’s not a cute look.

-When was the last time that you watched the sun come up? Last week. We were at the airport before the sun was up and it was coming up after we just got on the plane.

-What did you do last Halloween? Watched scary movies and got takeout.

-Last Thanksgiving? Had a nice, big, delicious feast with my family.

-Last Christmas - if you celebrate? Christmas morning we got up early like we always do to open presents and then messed around with our stuff before pretty much resting the rest of the day. Oh, and we had our Christmas dinner that we usually do Christmas Eve, but my mom had to work until midnight that night.

-How did you celebrate the arrival of the new year? My mom and I watched the New Year’s festivities and counted down while the ball dropped. My dad fell asleep at like 9, so he was already out for the night and my brother was out with friends.

-Is there a foreign culture you’d like to learn more about? It’s interesting to learn about different cultures.

-Have you ever (purposely or accidentally) played with someone’s heart? I don’t think so. I’ve had it done to me a lot, though.

-Has anyone ever played with yours? Yes.

-Have you ever seen a famous painting and thought “I could have done that?” I admit that I’ve seen ones that were just like splatters and thought that. :X

-Fire drills: Did you ever wish they were real … just once? Yeah as a kid cause all that came to mind was we’d get to go home and not that it would mean there was an actual fire haha.

-What is the scariest thing about attending your school? I’m done with school.

-Are you a good judge of other people’s intentions? I think so.

What was the last thing that you felt strongly about? My faith.

-Shopping: best with friends, parents, bf/gf, or alone? Alone at home online, ha.

-What is one insecurity you have about your body? Everything.

-What is one part of your body that you are proud of? I like my hair currently only cause I recently got it colored and trimmed (finally).

-When was the last time someone told you to turn your music down? The night before we left for our trip. I was up late packing and my mom came in to ask me to turn my music down, ha. I didn’t end up sleeping at all that night. We left for the airport at 430. I didn’t sleep at all on the ride there or on our flight. I didn’t sleep until that night at the hotel. I honestly have NO idea how I did it.

-When you don’t know how to spell a word, do you look it up? Yeah, I just Google it real quick.

-Are you one to spend a lot of time in the bathroom? No.

-Have you seen the movie Super Size Me? Yeah, we had to in class. We watched it my sophomore year in my history class for some reason haha.

-Do you still eat at McDonald’s, regardless of that film? I was turned off to it for a little bit afterwards, but it didn’t last long. haha. I mean yeah, don’t eat it 3 times a day obviously.

-Do you ever consider the challenges other races go through? Yes.

-When was the last time you doubted your abilities? All the time. What abilities?

-At your favorite restaurant, what do you order? I always order chicken tenders and fries at any restaurant, ha.

-What was the last thing you wished for? I don’t wish for things.

-How many times a day, on average, do you look at the time? A lot.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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cuthie · 5 years

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Omru: Dezar’alor RP 2

(( The second half of the short discord rp. Archive purposes. ))

As he pointed out her charms and trinkets, she nodded and beamed a big grin at him.

“Yea I do! And each one has a cool story, of course. Like this one..”

She pointed to a tiny golden rabbit hanging on a leather strap around her neck.

“This one I got in the most epic game of dice ever. I say epic mostly because it was played through the bars of a cage with a couple of slimy Faithless turds. Crazy right? When I won they ‘gave’ me the prize to hold onto just for funsies, thinking I couldn’t go anywhere with it anyway. You know, just to taunt me? Little did they know I was just the bait and biding my time until dark when I knew our crew was showing up. That was one of my first jobs working with these horde folks, nice people. Some goblin girl with the whitest hair I’ve ever seen was asking for a volunteer to help them locate the camp of the jerks that had been causing trouble for us. Told her that’s what I do so she strapped some little doodad under my shirt, told me to go get myself caught and off I went. Wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I volunteered but hey, they had my cousin Oji and a handful of others so of course I’m gonna help. Oh! And best part is it’s chanted up for a quick speed boost in a pinch. Pretty cool right?”

She lifted her hand and tugged at one of her bracelets. What appeared to be a wide, flat strip of scaly grey leather.

“This one doesn’t do anything special but I thought it was cool. My dads helping out over at Camp Lastwind, you know over near Port Zem’lan? A few of them have Sethrak tent flaps as a sort of warning. They have a good chunk of help there luckily but get hit a lot, heh. Anyway, he gave me a little piece off his. Told me to remember that even our enemies can be put to use. Just kinda sentimental, you know.”

She smiled, running one clawed finger over several others on that wrist then tossed him a shrug.

“Eh, we could be here all day if I try and explain all these. Some other time maybe, let’s get you to someone that can help with that soggy guitar.”

She stepped around the fish funk mess as they padded off, tossing one more glare up at the bird.. which continued to eye her. Nodding as he spoke about the city’s recent attack, her bright amber yellow eyes flicked around, taking everything in. Though she didn’t necessarily -need- company, being in a place so huge with so many unfamiliar faces, races, noises and so on had made her feel a bit isolated. It was nice to have a little familiar company, even if she didn’t know the guy.

They walked for a while longer, pausing to get out of the way of an enormous, slow moving dino that carried several rowdy looking orcs. Finally, Noh ducked behind a worn looking hide curtain and motioned for Om to follow. The narrow entryway descended into a dimly lit hallway that lead to several doors ahead. The heavy scent of potent herbs and smoke immediately assaulted their sensitive nostrils as they entered. Each inhale somehow left an odd metallic aftertaste in their mouths. Irony, and not unlike the taste of blood. Passing the first set of doors, Noh made for the 2nd door on the left and knocked. Though her posture appeared confident and at ease, her eyes darted about as if nervous.

After a long moment, the door finally swung open. A Zandalari woman filled the doorway, towering over the two Vulpera. Though the wrinkles in her face and skin advertised advanced age, her expression and gaze suggested a confidence and power. Grey hair hung rolled and tied and braided about her head and shoulders. Bits of bone, claws and long tusks decorated not only her hair and attire but the myriad of piercings on her face and ears. She stared down at the two of them, the demand for them to state their business clear with no words spoken. From behind her, fire light flickered and the scent of herbs and spice wafted out. Noh shoved a smile onto her face.

“Uh, is Heke here? How’s he doing?”

The woman leered down at them for a long moment. As if judging them, their motives.. their souls.. Noh couldn’t help the slight chill that ran up her spine, especially after her last visit when she had first met the woman. The fur along the top of her tail and the back of her neck lifted slightly. She tried to cover the reaction by clearing her throat and adjusting her pack. Her intense, glowing, turquois eyes shifted to Om then. Taking in the strangers attire, equipment and then landing firmly on his face for what felt like forever. The silence was too awkward, Noh hated it. Silence itself wasn’t bad but in such a setting it was agonizing. She cleared her throat again and spoke up, trying to move things along.

“Omru, this is Ja-row-kah. She’s Heke’s mother and uh, one of the city’s healers.”

She looked up to the woman, hoping she had said the name correctly.

“I don belong to da city, little Noh. I jus be ‘ere, healin ma son. Now get in ‘ere before someone else be seein da door open an come buggin me fa sometin.”

The woman moved aside just enough for them to enter the room. Her eyes only leaving them to make a quick scan of the hall before closing the door behind them. The place was small and lit only by a small open fire place and a few candles. A single room that seemed to serve as temporary living quarters. Ja’rokah moved to a side table covered in miscellaneous herbs and pouches where she began busying herself with something. Something burned in a low, wide bowl that seemed to fill the small space with an unnecessary amount of spicy smoke.

Noh waved a hand in front of her face, as if to clear it somehow and made a beeline for the cot near the fireplace. A large, mostly naked troll lay on the cot. His already thick, corded muscles were accentuated even more by the dance of the flames and the accumulation of sweat on his deep green skin. In contrast, bright golden tattooing covered a fair amount of his chest and upper arms. The patterns typical to much of the artwork around the city. Did it have meaning? Was there a language to it or were they just picked on what looked cool? For all she knew, it could say ‘mom’ for these guys, who knows. His head turned towards the two and a wide grin spread around enormous curved tusks.

“Ah, de little hero returns. Good ta see yu, Noh.”

His eyes shot to Om then and it was easy to see the resemblance to his mother in that intense look as Om was sized up. A single nod was offered Om’s way after a moment.

“Dis ain’cha boy from before. Where be Vondo? Yu too bossy ta keep’im round?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich but then winced, a hand coming up to hold the left side of his ribs. Ja’rokah appeared behind them then, offering the two each a mug of some steaming liquid. Noh took it with a smile, then as the woman padded off, gave a not so subtle shake of her head to Om and set the cup on the end table near Heke.

“Uh, yea.. Let’s just say he and I are really only good for short jobs, you know? Different motivations. Anyway, this is Omru, I’m helping him find a place to get that soggy guitar fixed up. Some girl punted him out into the ocean because she didn’t like his playing or something. Rude, right?”

She poked a finger towards Om and the guitar he carried.

Omru was always eager to hear about a person’s stuff. Their trinkets, nicknacks, weapons, jewelry, books, armors, whatever. Back and forth the pair of Vulpera seemed to sprinkle conversation with, ‘Ooh, and I have one of these’ or ‘Did you hear about the blah-blah’. It was a much welcomed experience for Om, in stark contrast to his initial arrival at the docks.

Exploring the Zandalari capital hadn’t been something on his to-do list. He had met more than his fair share of Trolls, and had heard all about the nefarious politics of the city. Dozens of different troll clans, stabbing one another in the back, constantly using dark magicks called voodoo, and worst of all, cannibalism. Trolls could and would eat anything. On more than one occasion he had heard stories of desert trolls stripping the fur from the vulpera and roasting them over fires. He had actually spoken to one such person. She said she only ate her enemies, however. Funny, the city-folk sent their criminals to the dunes as punishment, but for the hundreds of vulpera living within the sands, the city was the worser of the two.

As they walked along the streets, turning this way and that, Om took in the sights. The dinosaurs, mostly. The large reptilians weren’t exactly unseen in Vol’dun, but never in such numbers. Some were impossibly tall, taxiing people around the city in long albeit slow strides. More impressive than the giant lizards, however, was the giant dung left behind. Holy dinosaur shit were these turds big. Om had expected them to be as long as his arm, for some reason, but they were five feet tall. Five feet! Of course, the city’s sanitation department would get to cleaning that up, eventually. They had been busy for a while, taking away dead bodies, scrubbing the blood out of the floors and walls.

Thinking back to the bodies, the Horde and the war, Omru put two and two together. Every third stall was stocked full with armors in red and black. At first the little fox boy had thought merchants were capitalizing on the Horde’s presence. Then he realized why the armors and weapons were so plentiful. The tough leathers he was presently wearing weren’t simply ‘hand crafted’ by the Zandalari. They were used goods.

Unfortunately, Omu hadn’t come to said conclusion until after he had followed Noh inside. Some half naked troll on a cot had been talking to them. The red furred Vulpera had just pointed a finger Om’s way when he said, “I’m wearing some dead guy’s clothes.”

Bright orange eyes blinked up to the Joker, or whatever her name had been, then back to Heck. “Not that I’m opposed. We make due with what we have in the dunes, I just didn’t think someone had.. You know, bled, died and shit themselves in this outfit, likely in that order. I traded good stuff for this. I should have got a discount.”

He wasn’t necessarily disgusted by the notion. The Troll merchants had taken the armor from the bodies, patched them up, gave them a cleaning and sold them full price. Ugh. Bartering was always in the details. He should have been given -two- sets! Two!

Two long tusks turned towards the red furred vulpera, “Is ya friend ‘ere okay?”

Omru’s thought-cache caught up to him, refreshing his mind. Everything that had happened in the last minute or two came flashing forward in a brief four seconds. Input lag. “Oh, yeah, I’m gonna need my guitar fixed. I have a ship leaving tomorrow morning that I need to be on, sooo. How long would this process take, and how much is it gonna cost me?” This was followed by a sincere smile.

Heke seemed to ponder the question for a moment, then nodded.

“I do know someone dat may be able ta help yu. Da names Am’ika, she should be playin’ down by da docks t’night, if she ain’t der already. Likes ta hit up whateva fresh blood be comin’ in on da ships and da full pockets dey be bringin.. Her an her group be playin da drums mostly, but she can play a bit of everyt’ing so likely yu best bet fa dat ting. Best musician I know. Hmmh.. Best musician any be knowin I bet. Well, unless yu count Ol’ Bwonsamdi..”

He glanced to Noh as she shot him a confused, disbelieving look. He laughed, again the sound loud and deep. The kind of rich laughter that could be heard across a room and contagious in social settings or.. might illicit goose bumps if heard echoing in a dark alley. Again he winced, holding his side as he played out the last few chuckles of it.

“What? Yu never heard he can play, little Noh? I hear he play da bones like yu wouldn’t believe..”

His eyes narrowed as he grinned her way, the turquoise glow of them thinning into erie slits. Her brows furrowed as she blinked back at him. Was this guy just screwing with her or was he serious? Bones… Seriously? She scanned him up and down, then deciding it was a joke, rolled her eyes.

“Yea yea, sure sure. Plays the bones with little skull capped sticks and makes the jaws flap about like they’re singing along right? And let me guess, next you’re gonna tell me he plays the bone flute too? Like I’m gonna fall for that pervy joke?”

Heke’s eyes widened and he let out an uneasy half chuckle. He shot a look to his mother, who had turned to glare at Noh over her shoulder. Following his glance, Noh looked back and saw the woman’s nostril flaring expression. Sssshit. Had she read the situation wrong? Weren’t they just joking? What if they weren’t.. and she had just insulted one of the baddest bad ass Loa these people knew?

“Don’t get me wrong here, that insult was for you, not Bwonsamdi. I thought you were joking. Not that it was really an insult, just, you know.. friendly teasing. I actually think Bwonsamdis pretty awesome. If I had to pick a Loa to follow like you guys, it would definitely be him. I mean, taking the shape of beasts and being in charge of the hunt or the sky or garbage or whatever is pretty cool and all but death? I mean, pfft, how do you beat that? Absolutely everything dies, even other Loa right so he’s gotta be the biggest badass ever. Imagine having him on your side in a bad spot? Vision going dark, you know it’s over and then bam! He shows up, tells you it ain’t your time yet then ‘bloop!’ pokes the reset button and you pop back up to finish off the turd that tried to take you out?”

Scratching at the back of her head she offered a shrug, hoping she wasn’t simply digging the hole deeper. She honestly meant what she said buuuut wasn’t exactly fluent in all the Loa or what they do exactly. As was the case with most of her knowledge, the bulk of it came from stories that were shared and eavesdropping. Still, it made sense in her head and should be seen as a complement right?

“Not that it probably works that way though I’m sure. I mean, we’re all just like sand fleas in the never ending desert called life. Why would our time be worth his, right?”

She looked back to Ja’rokah, hoping this had cleared things up. The woman had her back turned again and was furiously grinding away at something in a stone bowl. She watched as the old Zandalari woman carefully dumped some of the ground up powder into a mug then dropped in a pinch of something she couldn’t identify and filled it with hot water. She turned and stepped toward Noh then, the look on her face hard to read. She was smiling, technically, but if the look in someone’s eyes could choke you out.. Well, she was always a bit intense so Noh did her best to offer a smile of her own when the mug was offered. She took it, despite not having touched her other one yet and nodded, waiting for the woman to go away so she could set it somewhere like before. Unfortunately, Ja’rohak simply stood there, staring. When the young Vulpera didn’t immediately take a drink, the woman reached down to nudged the girl’s mug filled hands towards her face.

“Drink. I be makin dat one special just fa you.. Ta help wit yu travels..”

Noh blinked down at the cup, sniffing at it since it was nearing her nose anyway. It actually didn’t smell horrible but the vibes rolling off this lady made her skin crawl. A flash caught her attention and she leaned out to look behind Ja’rokah, eyes widening. Whatever was left in the stone bowl had caught fire and was threatening to catch fire to several of the dried herbs the woman had hanging above the table. Ja’rokah turned, cursed and flew into action trying to smother it. Though initially covering the bowl seemed to work, the moment she removed the bit of hide, flames bellowed out, quickly catching the herbs above.

“Shit! Here!!”

Noh bolted forward and threw her arms out, flinging the cups contents over the flames. It's just what you do when there’s a fire that gets a little out of hand. You throw water on it. Sometimes it's tea or juice or soup or whatever else. Heck, she had even seen a couple people pee it out once. Liquid, that’s all it takes. So when this ‘tea’ exploded into a flaming wave of liquid on contact her jaw dropped, her eyes bugged and she was dumbstruck. Most of the top of the table was now on fire and the cursing woman flailed to gain control. She slapped at the few flaming droplets that hit her arm, tore the rack of dried herbs from the wall, throwing it into the fireplace then grabbed and dumped the boiling pot of water over the entire thing.

The room filled with a mix of smoke and steam. Mixes, tincture bottles, containers and other components were scattered about and washed off the edges of the table. As the flames disappeared and the steam cleared, one item sat unaffected near the edge of the table. A small, golden pocket watch. Ja’rokah stared down at it for a moment, then reached for it. As her wrinkled and pocked fingers closed in though she jumped as the thing’s lid popped open, knocking it over the edge and to the floor. There it sat facing up, its ‘tick tick tick’ somehow seeming louder than it should be. Ja’rokah watched it for a moment then lifted her gaze to Noh, her expression a mix of annoyance and suspicion. At the look, Noh jerked from the dumbfounded, frozen state of having just watched that shit show and threw her hands up defensively.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know your tea would catch fire! Tea isn’t supposed to.. Wait, why were you trying to make me drink something like that anyway? Wouldn’t that hurt?”

With a slight sneer, the old woman dismissed Noh’s question with a flick of her wrist then bent to pick up the watch. Apparently clumsy though, as she stepped forward the biggest of her two fat toes kicked the little thing, sending it sliding across the rug. It bumped up against Noh’s foot, its lid closing with a tight snap on impact. Ja’rokah practically snarled at the thing, then stood up straight again and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Fine.. Ain’cha time, just take it an get outta ‘ere.”

She flung one long finger towards the door then turned her back on them to begin cleaning up the mess. Confused, Noh looked from the watch to Heke, to Om and back to Heke.

“…What…”

“GO!!”

The woman’s raised voice made Noh jump and if she wasn’t mistaken, it had even made Heke jump too. She searched his face for clues, having no idea what exactly had just happened. He winced a little and shrugged, nodding towards the door.

“Yu got what info I could give. Seems yu best ta get goin’ now. I’ll be up an about in a few days. If yu still around, I’ll come find yu fa dem stories I promised, eh? If not, den take care of yu’self little Noh and I be owin’ yu.”

He offered a warm smile then pointed to the watch.

“Take it wit yu. It be good luck to yu now. Or bad.. Dependin’.”

His lips curled up around his left tusk into a mischievous smirk and he motioned for the door, though less pointedly than his mother.

“What the hecks that supposed to-“

“Go..”

He said it softly but it was clear the visit was over. Flashing Om a quick awkward look, she snatched up the little watch, stuffed it in her pocket and headed for the door.

Omru furrowed a furry brow, “Uhh, Bwon’samdi worship isn’t as prevalent in the dunes. From my understanding of the capital, there are a half a dozen Loa being praised in the city of gold, and the Loa of Graves isn’t even in the top three. Not that there’s anything wrong with picking him to be your patron saint or whatever. Fear of death might be a great motivation. I’m not particularly religious. Not sure what comes after death for those unpledged to the Gods, but if I -had- to pick, maybe Akunda? I wouldn’t wanna change my identity though. Oh wait, Sethraliss! She’s a good one. Loa of Lightning. Yeah, if I had to enter a pact with someone, it would be her. I mean, yeah she’s a Setherak and all, but the bad ones are very very anti-Sethraliss. Faithless is what they call themselves, and anyone they’re opposed to is probably a friend worth having.”

Om sat down his tea and began rummaging in his pack for a few moments, his little fingers working buttons and pockets and zippers within his bag of bags. Eventually he pulled out a yellowed rolled parchment, unfurled it and read, “In the densest jungle of darkest green.. Ahem, that was Vol’dun once upon a time. Anyways, continuing! - Rules the mother of many, but rarely seen. Warm and lush and full of life, iron will and without strife. Her mind unfurls, envelops all. Her faithful ever heed her call. See? Faithful, not Faithless. Anyways, across the ages her eyes do see, seeking the best for you and me. Through darkest night and brightest day, she will ever find her way. In her, your haven will be found. Her all for us, her care profound. Love unsurpassed will surely be, when Sethraliss you truly see. Isn’t that sweet? Like a Loa of love.. And electric sparks. But mostly love. And snakes.”

The little black fox had just picked up his drink, bringing the mug of tea up to his snout when the room exploded in a rush of heat and flames. Jaw dropping, Om looked from Noh to Joker and back again. Clearly while reciting his Loa scroll he had missed the flames in the bowl. Hearing the accusations of Joker spicing the tea with something flammable, Om very quickly dumped the contents of his own drink off to the side, away from the flames. What was more interesting than the contents of Noh’s cup, however, was the little pocket watch. Flame retardant. Interesting.

No longer welcome in the smokehouse, the pair of Vulpera retreated, Om shutting the door only to reopen it and poke his head back inside, “Thanks again for the help. Sorry abou the-”

“GO!”

He closed the door behind him, then hurriedly chased after Nohko. “Seems like you’re about as welcome in this city as I am, judging by your friends back there. I wonder what was in that tea. Something sinister or just booze?”

It took little more than an hour to figure out that the drummer Heke had been referring to happened to be the same one that had kicked Omru into the ocean. The band had a music shop they owned, complete with a stage for performances. It turned out those were for special occasions, where the shop would work with local restaurants and bars for a night of celebration. Primarily the band just played the drums and performed on the streets, raking in enough coin in tips to keep their business afloat. Through very little investigation, the vulpera learned of the process required to fix Om’s guitar. It would take a few days, having to dry then sand down the wood, restring the instrument and retune it. A few days that Om didn’t have.

“Hey, I gotta get going, people to see before I take off. I have a huge favor to ask of you, though. Would you mind getting my guitar fixed for me? I can give you the coin with a smidge extra for your trouble. Just get it back to me if you ever come to Durotar? Or I might could track you down here.”

Being the reasonable type, Nohko agree to help Omru out. After submitting it to the music shop, he even bought her lunch. Zandalari kingsteak with zeb’ahari kiwi and southsea breadfruit. After parting ways, Omru made another trip to the music shop. Sun was coming down but it wasn’t quite dark yet. That didn’t stop the little fox boy from slipping into the shadows.

It was always a chilling sensation, beginning at the base of his neck, wrapping itself around his enter body from his head to his tail. Some folks called it shadow magic, some called it voodoo, he called it sneakiness. It wasn’t a hundred percent foolproof, especially for people looking for invisible creatures. There were traps that could be set, potions that could grant enhanced vision, gadgets that could expose him. None of those were present in the little shop, and in under three minutes, Om got in and got out. With him was a fancy little lute, made of some kind of white wood with purple strings. It wasn’t his flamenco guitar, but it would suit his purposes. Besides, those jerks shouldn’t have assaulted him at the docks. Eye for an eye, that kind of thing. He could always return it when he got his father’s instrument back.

That night he stayed at the cheapest inn he could find. The place was rundown and a bit dirty, but he honestly slept great. He was used to roughing it, so any commodities were welcome. When morning came he was back at the docks, paying his fee for a special little boat to take him to the fabled jungles of Durotar. He gave up his enchanted troll dagger, and judging by the captain’s face, the whispers had taken hold of the blade’s new wielder immediately. Whatever, it was his problem now.

The End For Now? -

#wrarp #WRA RP #Warcraft Roleplay #zandalar

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