#many near deaths for fitz

[spectrum-color]

The fun thing about spending way too much time thinking about RotE over the past several months is that I can think of so many what ifs that would have changed the series. For better, for worse, or just for different varies, but there were a lot of things that could have gone in another direction in the Fitz books alone. Some I would find interesting:

Chivalry chooses to stay on as heir and let the scandal blow over (this would go very differently based on if he did or did not acknowledge Fitz)

Burrich was not beaten as a child for having the Wit, so he has a more balanced view of the Old Blood and tries to help Fitz handle it

The Piebald Prince was never overthrown in a coup so the “beast magic” taboo doesn’t exist

Verity takes Regals assassination of Kettrickens brother and attempt on his own life much more seriously (tbh it is insane that this was swept under the rug in canon)

Fitz never knocks up Molly (this has implications for him, Molly, and Burrich)

The Skill coteries attacks on Shrewd are discovered before they kill him

Desire dies before she can get Chivalry killed, and he outlived Regal. (Would he want to meet Fitz? More up in the air, would Fitz want to meet him after 15 years of knowing he existed but keeping his distance?)

Fitz remembers Chades lessons and does not take Rosemarys presence for granted, only speaking to Kettricken about their plans when he can verify that they’re alone or with the Fool or only communicating it in Kettrickens native language

Fitz makes the connection sooner about exactly what kind of interest the Fool has in him (crying and saying “when I remember how beautiful you were” and KISSING HIM ON THE MOUTH just goes right over his head)

Fitz doesn’t give his memories of Molly, his birth mother, and the dungeons to Girl on a Dragon, allowing him to process them in a more healthy way and not spending 17 years partially Forged

When Fitz and Nighteyes are traveling the world, they end up in Bingtown at the same time as Amber and join up with Team Paragon

The Six Duchies has a more neutral attitude toward homosexuality (before anyone thinks that’s just boring wish fulfillment, I think Fitzs deep rooted attachment issues are at the real root of his difficulty accepting the Fools love and are a much more interesting character trait than his internalized homophobia)

During the infamous confrontation over the Fools feelings, the two of them are not sick. Alternatively, they have been drinking

When the Fool tells Fitz to leave it and they can just keep going like they always have, Fitz agrees (tbh I think if he didn’t have a Skill hangover he would have given how he prefers to pretend sensitive topics don’t exist)

The Fool chooses not to tell Fitz about his impending death because he fears it will break the fragile peace between them

Fitz undoes Burrichs Skill block and is able to save him (still mad about this; HUGE implications and potential for drama with Fitz, Burrich, the Fool, Molly, and Nettle)

The Fool refuses Prilkops offer to return to Clerres due to his trauma and goes back to Buckkeep instead

The Fool refuses Prilkops offer to return to Clerres and asks Fitz to go to the Rain Wilds with him to continue to track the progress of the dragons

The Fool lets Fitz go with him and Prilkop to Clerres and Fitz becomes the Destroyer as well as the Unexpected Son

Fitz gets the Fools message on Winterfest and goes on a rescue mission, bringing him back in time for Bee to come into the picture

The Fool makes his way to Withywoods before the incident at the market

Lant actually is killed during the attack on Withywoods (how does Chade respond to this?)

Bee kills Vindeliar at the same time as Dwalia, meaning that Fitz is never injected with the Traitors Death

The Fool figures out how to use his Silvered fingers to free Fitz from the pillar. Though this is really only noticeably different if his worm infestation is discovered and destroyed early on by a Skill healing (I am especially curious how Bee would react to the Fools attempts to teach her if Fitz was still alive)

[redgoldsparks]

September Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

The Princess and the Grilled Cheese by Deya Muniz 

Lady Camembert is the only child of Count Camembert, but as a daughter she cannot inherit unless she marries. She refuses, and after her father's death takes up a different life in the capital city, far from her hometown: she pretends to be the male heir to her father's title. This feels like the perfect solution, except then she meets Princess Brie, and as feelings begin to develop between them, Cam despairs that her secret identity means she can never be anything more than friends with the Princess. This is a beautifully drawn book, sweet and silly, full of cheese puns and historical anachronisms.

The Yakuza’s Bias vol 1 by Teki Yatsuda 

Yakuza member Ken Kanashiro's life is changed when the daughter of the clan leader he works for takes him along to a kpop concert. Ken is moved by the kpop idol group's commitment, hard work, passion, and loyalty to each other and their fans. His introduction to fandom, and new social media friends, bring a breath of fresh air into his violent and dangerous life... and like most fervent fans, he starts trying to convince the people around him to stan the group to greater or lesser success. This manga series is very much in the same tone as Way of the House Husband but I appreciated the slightly longer chapters and the growing ensemble cast. It's a silly concept but with moments of genuine feeling as it shows how loving something can connect you to a whole new community.

Of Thunder and Lightning by Kimberly Wang

This is a beautiful, meta deconstruction of battle-robot manga; it plays with POV, with format, and theme. Two corporate nations struggle for dominance in a ruined world. Each spreads propaganda about the other; each has developed a pop-star like AI robot avatar, which battle each other in televised combat with custom costumes and snappy catch phrases. These robots, Magni and Dimo, exist only to destroy each other, but also find in each other their only equal. They both savor their violent encounters, but both are pushed by their creators and handlers to destroy the other. The story is half devastating elegance, half tongue-in-cheek satire. This title is most easily available through the publisher's website and I highly recommend it.

Blackward by Lawrence Lindell 

Four friends, Lika, Amor, Lala, and Tony, bonded in a bookclub over being Black, queer, weird and punk. They clearly see the need for a community space for folks like themselves, but struggle with how and where to build that space. After their first attempt is ruined by trolls, they ask for guidance from a local bookstore owner and zine fest organizer. So the idea for the Blackward Zine Fest is born, an event to showcase creativity, make new connections, and maybe even find dates. This book doesn't shy away from the negative sides of existing and creating as a minority in public, but it is also a celebration of friendship and community and the power of comics!

Assassin’s Quest by Robin Hobb read by Paul Boehmer 

What an exciting, explosive end to this trilogy! Fitz starts this book as low as a man can be, having returned from near death, with nearly every person who has ever known him believing him dead. He has to learn how to be human again, and learn how to care, and figure out his plans now that he has hypothetical total freedom. But the Red Ships are still pounding the Six Duchies shores, and Regal has withdrawn the strength and wealth of the Duchies inland. Verity is still missing on his endless quest. The beginning drags a little, but after the mid point of this book it is CONSTANT action and adventure, with so many twists and turns, and such a payoff at the end. If you like high fantasy, I highly recommend this series, and I'm so glad I chose to revisit it this summer.

I Thought You Loved Me by Mari Naomi

This is a long, thoughtful look at a friendship breakup, told through prose, letters, diary excerpts, collage, and comics. Mari met Jodie in high school where they bonded as rebellious teens seeking freedom from parental and academic rules. They loved the same music, both dropped out of school, and moved in the same circle of Bay Area folks for years. They were best friends- until Jodie cut Mari out of her life suddenly and unexpectedly. Years later, Mari was still trying to piece together what had happened, from lies, misunderstandings, secrets, affairs, communications lost in transit or responded to by the wrong recipient. Friendship breakups can be equally as devastating as romantic breakups- sometimes even more, as there's no societal norms on how to mourn them, and because we often expect friends to remain in our lives forever. This memoir was honest about how memory fades, how easy it can be to remember only the good or only the bad of a person colored through a specific lens, but also hopeful about the possibility of reconnection. No memoir is over while it's characters still live, and this one took more twists and turns than I was expecting! Beautiful and thought provoking.

Enemies by Svetlana Chmakova 

This fourth installment in the Berrybrook series is just as charming and warmhearted as the previous volumes. This one focuses on Felicity, an artist who struggles with time management and deadlines, and with comparisons to her hyper-organized, science-fair winning younger sister. Wanting to prove herself, Felicity joins a competition for kid entrepreneurs. But coming up with a winning idea proves more difficult than she expected, especially when her partner keeps suggesting completely impossible ideas. Also, one of her best friends from elementary school stopped talking to her and now glares daggers at Felicity and she has no idea why. It's hard to keep your head up in middle school with all of the swirling emotions, homework, personal projects, and still maintain high scores in the most popular new online multi-player combat game. But Felicity has the love and support of her family- all she has to do is be willing to ask for help.

Skip by Molly Mendoza

The art in this book is absolutely gorgeous, and the page layouts are stunning. The story opens with a child, Bloom, and a nonbinary adult, Bee, surviving in a post apocalyptic world. But Bee goes off to help a stranger and then Bloom falls through an Alice-in-Wonderland like rabbit hole into multiple different trippy, strange settings were they are generally much tinier than all the other inhabitants. There's a nice through line about friendship and trusting yourself, but ultimately I found the story too ungrounded and loose to have a deep emotional impact.

Alexander, The Servant and The Water of Life book 1 by Reimena Yee

I am so impressed by the scope, artistic skill, and inventiveness of this work! The author weaves together multiple, at times conflicting, tales of Alexander the Great. It's drawn in rich colors and a wide variety of styles, many of which reference specific historical manuscript traditions from medieval European to Islamic to East Asian. I love the way the flashbacks are worked into the frame narrative, I love the shifting art styles, I am awed by the size of this project. And you can read most of this first volume online for free here on the author's website.

Ocean’s Echo by Everina Maxwell read by Raphael Corkhill 

This is a creative and gripping follow up to Winter's Orbit. Set in the same larger universe but focusing on a new set of main characters in a new sector of space, this extremely slow burn romance is satisfyingly dense with military and political intrigue. Tennal is the nephew of the Legislator of Orshun; he's also a Reader, or someone who can telepathically read the emotions and surface thoughts of the people around him; he's also the black sheep of his family, a party boy and general fuck up. His aunt forces him into an army position with the intention of having him permanently mind-linked to an Architect, a soldier with the flip side of Tennal's skill- the ability to control people's minds. Tennal is horrified and begins to think of every possible way he can avoid this fate. But much larger forces are at play around him, from the mystery of a semi-destroyed scientific lab relocated in the middle of chaotic space, lies about the creation of Readers and Architects, and a coup in the making. This book is heavier on the sci-fi elements than the relationship progression, but that suited me just fine and I look forward to hopefully reading more installments in this series!

Sunshine by Jarrett J Krosoczka 

When author Jarrett Krosoczka was in high school he had the opportunity to volunteer for a week at a camp for kids with cancer, their siblings, and parents. Jarrett had no idea what to expect, but he packed his sketchbook and an open mind. The experience changed his outlook forever. He had his own problems back home: a family affected by addiction and absent parents which lead to him being raised by his grandparents. But in the company of children facing life-threatening illnesses his own concerns fell away. He built relationships with some families that lasted for decades after his time at the camp. Painted in soft gray with hints of yellow and orange, this book offers an honest look at families facing the very worst circumstances and still heading out into woods to find community, friendship, and a breath of peace at a nature camp.

The Out Side: Trans and Nonbinary Comics edited by The Kao 

A really charming collection of nonbinary and trans stories! Most focus on coming out, but a few talk about a later in the process piece of trans life, such as getting top surgery. I enjoyed seeing which pieces of the stories echoed each other, appearing universal, and which stood out as unique to an individual's experience.

Hard Reboot by Django Wexler read by Morgan Hallett 

Set far in the future, this sci-fi novella follows a researcher from an extra-terrestrial human settlement on a scientific tourist trip back to "Old Earth". A misunderstanding leads to her accepting a very large bet on the outcome of a mecha battled, and when she losses and can't pay, she has to team up with a mecha fighter to try and win the next round to get her money back. I was able to predict the majority of the twists of this story within the first quarter of the book, but it was still fairly entertaining as a short audiobook listen.

Best. Ceremony. Ever: How to Make the Serious Wedding Stuff Unique by Christopher Shelley 

I just officiated a wedding for the first time in my life, and this book (while cheesy) did actually help me get started writing the ceremony speech. It gave me the general outline of the beats I needed to hit, and some smart ideas of little touches or moments to include. The book is very inclusive of same-sex couples, which I really appreciated. Its also padded out with a completely unnecessary 50 page glossary of terms, so I only really read/skimmed the first three quarters of it, but I'd still recommend it if you are either planning or officiating a wedding.

[oliversrarebooks]

Vampire powers

In this setting, there are powers that most vampires share, and then there are powers that are semi-unique to particular vampires. 

The following powers are shared among almost all vampires:

* Strength, speed, and agility that significantly surpasses the greatest human athletes, regardless of the vampire's actual size and build.

* Fast healing from nearly any injury.

* Functionally immortal, never aging.

* Sharp fangs that secrete venom. The venom has mild sedating properties to help keep victims subdued.

* Saliva that has a blood clotting property that allows the vampire to close the wounds they create.

* A vampiric aura that can be used to subdue humans and frighten off rival vampires.

* Hypnotic abilities. Most vampires can produce temporary enthrallment, but some require an expert (like Lily) for more permanent or complex effects.

* The ability to sire more vampires. This is done by draining a human to near death, having the human drink some of the vampire's blood, and then finishing the deed.

It's typical for a vampire to be stronger in some of these powers than others, but most have the full suite to some extent. It's possible but rare for vampires to be missing one of the usual powers.

Vampires have semi-unique powers based off their bloodline and their sire. Some examples:

* Alexander has a siren-song voice.

* Fitz has mind-control touch.

* Lily has enthrallment abilities that far surpass the average vampire.

* Jessica causes intelligence drain to humans in her vicinity.

* Colette can temporarily freeze humans.

* Jameson can control rats.

* [REDACTED] has blood control / human puppetry.

More exotic powers are possible! There are vampires who can fly or turn into animals.

Vampires also have some common weaknesses:

* A wooden or silver stake to the heart will kill them.

* As will beheading.

* Wounds with silver weapons are extremely painful and take far longer to heal than wounds from any other sort of weapon.

* Direct sunlight causes discomfort that rapidly turns into itching, burning, and pure agony, resulting in eventual death if left to burn for a significant period of time. Vampires can generally handle a bit of indirect or ambient sunlight without much harm.

* Starvation will cause a vampire to be weak and be in extreme discomfort. Hunger sets in after a week or so, and starvation symptoms start at two weeks to a month. It takes months to years of torturous distress to cause a vampire to turn to dust from starvation.

* Many vampires have difficulty crossing running water.

[hesina]

Ok I've listened to a lot while driving and here are some of my thoughts

I haven't really bought into this magic system yet. It's definitely a lot softer of a magic system which is fine, but there's just so many different "magics" that are happening and none of them seem to fit together yet. I'm probably spoiled by the cosmere lol

Fitz is ILL rip my guy hope you get past your like 5 consecutive near death experiences

Fuck Regal

I caught on almost immediately to Fitz being in the kings body so it was funny seeing him be like "why the fuck is the fool here? Why am I in these different chambers? How did I get to buckkeep?"

Fuck Regal

Rip Molly. Don't know if she is still alive but she's certainly not well.

Fitz being commanding and Prince-like?? Good for him.

Fuck Regal.

[greywoodrpg]

𝕣𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟

she was born forty-four years ago, is a witch and lives in mystic grove as a pet supply store owner and is in no coven. she looks an awful lot like parisa fitz-henley.

"Put your emptiness to melody, your awful heart to song; you don't have to sing it nice, but honey sing it strong."

tw: drugs, sex work, child abuse, attempted murder, drowning, ptsd, death, implied overdose, adultery

There was very little that she remembered about her life before the Pattersons but none of it was good. The list of charges against her birth mother was long and quite diverse. Ruthie was born into drugs and prostitution but it all paled in comparison to the event that actually ended the suffering. When she was four years old, her mother attempted to drown her in the bathtub. Ruthie still has nightmares about it. While her mother had tried to kill her, it was actually she that would die that night. One too many hits and that was the end of it. When Ruthie woke up, she wandered out of the hotel room that they had called home for a few weeks to find some help. Ruthie tried not to think about it and throughout the rest of her childhood she never brought it up to her new parents or siblings. Instead she used those negative memories to fuel her passion for helping other living creatures. She never wanted anyone to feel as scared or alone as she had. During school she was always seen as a teacher’s pet or goody two shoes, she never let the labels stop her. She didn’t excel academically so she decided going to school would be a waste. Instead she worked at her adoptive mother’s store and learned the ins and outs of the business that way. Since she felt any animal lover was a kindred spirit, she loved being able to help pet owners find what they needed.  Like any good small town girl, Ruthie fell in love with and married another man from Greywood. They lived happily for many years and even had twins together. The problems started innocently enough. He had an issue with the fact Ruthie never changed her name, she didn’t like how his family treated her or the children. Eventually it rippled into bigger issues and Ruthie was certain he had taken a mistress. She never found out if it was true and they decided they needed a trial separation. Ruthie hasn’t told her friends or family about the separation and plans to keep it that way until they’ve officially decided what they are doing.  For now, she is just enjoying her time with her children and trying to reconnect with people she knows care about her.

“what power did she attain when settling in greywood?”

She can induce peace and calm in people near her. Only works in close proximity and she has to concentrate on each person for it to work.

penned by... brees

[aphelea]

Jobs within the Elven Nobility

For the Reading Rumble Round 4. A look into the structure of the Nobility, and the division of roles—based on ability—of Emissaries and Regents.

@camelspit @arson-anarchy-death

To enter the Nobility, one must graduate the Foxfire Elite Levels, for which a special ability is required. (The members of Team Valiant are the exception to this rule, as—excluding Wylie—none have completed their Elite Levels yet.) Members of the Nobility are considered to be of a “higher status” than other elves, and they hold more power over the Lost Cities. Typically, they hold the title of Lord or Lady, though those who work at Foxfire may hold different titles depending on their position.

The main purpose of the Nobility is to assist the Council in their work. Emissaries and Regents are both intended to carry out tasks for the Council, with Regents having lower rank than Emissaries. Besides this difference in rank, it is unclear what the difference between the tasks given to the two jobs is. 

Beyond Emissaries and Regents, there are a few more named jobs in the Nobility—although it is likely that there are more that have not appeared in the series yet. Quinlin Sonden is named as Chief Mentalist, a job that is similar to human therapists. It appears that one elf can hold multiple Nobility positions at a time, as Quinlin is also said to have been a Probe—alongside his Cognate, Alden, who was a Keeper. The positions of Probe and Keeper seem to be both official positions and general terms for skills a Telepath may have—Prentice was considered the “Keeper for the Black Swan,” though he did not work for the Council in his real life, while Fitz refers to his Mentor saying that “[he] should be a Keeper someday.” So, the term seems to be used both generally and to refer to a specific position with the Nobility.

Curiously, we see three Telepath skills considered jobs in the Lost Cities—Keepers, Probes, and Washers. (Washers are unclear, as the term seems to refer more often to the skill rather than the job; however, Councillor Kenric was said to be a Washer, and Damel Kafuta states his job to be a Washer. Damel had yet to graduate his Elite Levels, so it would be highly unlikely for him to have been a Noble, but still technically possible. It seems most likely that Washers, while a valued job, are not only Nobility members, although they carry out the Council’s work. Why this would be is yet uncertain, but it is possible that, since Washers would rarely be needed, they wouldn’t be considered a full-time job as such. And, with Kenric being able to wash the Washers’ minds, there is no real need for Washers to be members of the Nobility.)

The three jobs mentioned are skills that only Telepaths can hone; however, since a majority of the Nobility are not Telepaths, it stands to reason that there must be other ability-specific jobs within the Nobility. For example, Della, as an Emissary, was given the task of spying on Alden. Perhaps this means that there are specific types of Vanishers trained mainly in espionage. This explains why Della is consistently shown to evade the senses of even the strongest of characters throughout the series. Vanisher spies would also fulfill a part of the Council’s duties, in spying on the Neutral Territories, rebels, and other species. 

Another curious thing to note is that it seems that few elves with elemental abilities are in the Nobility, or, at the very least, few are interacting with Sophie. Based upon treatment of Tam and Linh’s abilities, there does seem to be some general prejudice against elemental abilities as a whole—perhaps that they are more wild, and less “refined” than mental abilities such as Telepathy and Empathy. However, we see many more Ancient or near-Ancient noble elves with elemental abilities—perhaps suggesting that there was once a time when elemental abilities assisted the Council, but now, they do not as much. I would think that this is because the Lost Cities must have taken time to build—centuries, even, which would require elves with elemental abilities to assist in their construction. But now, after the sinking of Atlantis and the completion of most construction, there is much less of a need for elemental abilities. Likely, of course, this pairs with the banning of pyrokinesis resulting in distrust of elemental abilities as a whole. 

Beyond elemental abilities and Vanishers, we also see plenty of Empaths in the series, and especially in the Nobility. The only real role that the ability seems to serve for the Council is the ability to detect lies, which Oralie does. Cassius, however, is sent on Emissary missions much like his fellow Telepath emissaries—so, there is clearly more than one use for Empaths in the Council. Perhaps one of these such jobs is the equivalent of Elf Lie Detector, used mainly during Tribunals and other important interviews. Then, there may be another Empath job—Cassius’s job—which is of more use out in the field. 

As for the overall structure of Nobility jobs, I propose that “Emissary” and “Regent” are merely overarching titles for groups of smaller, ability-specific jobs. Keepers and Probes, for example, are types of Emissaries, who specifically focus on mind-breaks and mind-searching. Vanisher spies would be specific types of Emissaries whose job is to gather information on certain subjects. An Empath Lie Detector may be a type of Regent—not Emissary, as their job would not require as much classified information as an Emissary’s would—who serves in Tribunals to ensure honesty.

 Overall, I propose that each ability that is represented in the Nobility has certain ability-specific roles within the overarching framework of Emissaries and Regents, in order to better serve the Council and their needs. 

[chloristoflora]

Scarcely a friend. But speaking of old friends, have you heard from your old companion lately? The Fool?

Did he deliberately change the topic so abruptly, to try to catch me off guard? It worked. As I blocked him from my reaction, I knew that my defensive impulse told him just as much as all I tried to hide from him. The Fool. I had not heard from the Fool in years.

I found I was staring at the Fool's last gift to me, the carving of the three of us, him, me, and my wolf Nighteyes. I lifted a hand toward it, and then pulled it back. I never again wanted to see his expression change from that half-quirked smile it wore. Let me remember him that way. We had journeyed through life together for many years, endured hardships and near-death together. More than one death, I thought to myself. My wolf had died, and my friend had parted from me without a farewell, and with never a message since. I wondered if he thought I was dead. I refused to wonder if he was dead. He couldn't be. Often he'd told me that he was far older than I knew, and expected to live much longer than I would. He had cited that as one reason for leaving. He had warned me that he was going away before we last parted. He had believed he was freeing me of bond and obligation, setting me loose finally to pursue my own inclinations. But the unfinished parting had left a wound, and over the years the wound had become the sort of scar that ached at the change of the seasons. Where was he now? Why had he never sent as much as a missive? If he had believed me dead, why had he left a gift for me? If he had believed I would appear again, why had he never contacted me? I pulled my eyes away from the carving.

I haven't seen him or received a message from him since I left Aslevjal. That's been, what, fourteen years? Fifteen? Why do you ask now?

(...) They were asking if anyone had encountered a friend of theirs, a very pale person. But the odd part was that there were several descriptions of the "pale friend". Some said a young man, traveling alone. Another said she was a woman grown, pale of face and hair, traveling with a young man with red hair and freckles. Yet another was asking after two young men, one very blond and the other dark-haired but white-skinned.

Fool's Assassin, by Robin Hobb (Fitz and the Fool Trilogy #1)

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

Hello hi longtime lurker first-time asker, I am very sorry that your inbox is being filled with people being not nice about the whole...everything going on right now :-/

I know essentially nothing about boats and sea related stuff and I am always in the mood to hear about someone else's special interests, so do you have a favourite interesting or positive (inasmuch as facts about shipwrecks can be positive) fact related to that topic?

I love that story about the people on the Carpathia (because it's kinda heartwarming and bittersweet in the middle of a tragedy) but that's literally all I know about any kind of big boats tbh (also as well I would love to know what got you interested if that's okay to ask??)

aw thank you anon <333

its probably a bit cliche but my favourite ocean liner ever is the ms stockholm.

unfortunately, there arent too many good quality photos of it back when it was first launched in 1948 since you know, it was 1948. but its this beautiful, sleek ocean liner. she was the smallest passenger liner on the north atlantic run in the 50s, and idk, i just love how she looks. theres a lot of ocean liners that looked gorgeous like the ss france or ss united states, but they were both still a bit too bulky for me. compared to the stockholm which was just perfectly balanced for her small size.

you might also notice the very angular bow (front bit) and she had that bit because she sailed near the arctic sea so she needed a strong bow that could break ice.

unfortunately, it also broke a ship. im not gonna get into all the details of the collision between stockholm and the ss andrea doria, but off the coast of nantucket in july 1956, the stockholm collided at an almost 90° with the andrea doria.

this happened due to three reasons: fog making it harder to see, the stockholm sailing in the wrong lane (ships have ocean lanes like cars have roads) and the andrea doria attempting a starboard-to-starboard passing to avoid the collision despite the accepted passing being port-to-port.

(imagine youre about to walk into someone. if you both take a step to your respective lefts, that would be port-to-port. its starboard-to-starboard if you went right. but say you went right and they went left, youd collide)

the collision caused the andrea doria to begin to list to port and eventually shed capsize. the list made half the lifeboats unusable, but the crew of the stockholm were already rowing over in their lifeboats.

and the cherry on top was the arrival of the ss île de france, who took on the bulk of remaining passengers and was labelled the hero ship.

out of the 1705 people aboard, 1655 people survived. a much higher survival rate to titanic.

like the titanic wreck, the wreck of the andrea doria is the gravesite for the 51 who didnt make it. their bodies were never recovered.

unfortunately, the wreck is a popular diving spot and looters have taken everthing worth anything from the wreck over time. and even more unfortunately, at least 22 divers have died on the wreck.

once again, these wrecks should be protected by law like the fitz is or like the uss johnston is.

also, the collision completely crushed stockholms bow:

but away from the tragedy of the collision, the stockholm went on to have a very successful career. shes had 12 different owners and 12 different names:

stockholm

völkerfreundschaft

volker

fridtjof nansen

italia i

italia prima

valtur prima

caribe

athena

azores

and astoria

she was also sometimes labelled "the ship of death" due to the collision with andrea doria.

in 1989, 41 years after her launch, she was sold to star lauro lines and was converted into a cruise ship. and considering shes currently still up for sale today, she must have been a very reliable and very good cruise ship.

when she was known as athena, she was attacked by pirates in 2003. the crew prevented the pirates from boarding by firing high pressure wate Mr canons at them, but at one point twenty-nine pirate boats surrounded her. and then she was just fine and carried on with her voyage to australia m

in 2009, she got detained in france because the company had unpaid bills, and it just makes me cry laugh when they detain a whole ass ship. i just imagine some officer trying to handcuff a ship.

after the quick dip into the criminal world, she continued to sail until 2021 when she was bought by a company planning to convert her into a hotelship.

afaik, the plans were scrapped and shes back on the market, so if you somehow have the money to buy a boat, the stockholm/astoria is up for sale.

and it is fucking wild to remember that the ship that sank the andrea doria in 1956 is currently on the market and might be fixed up and ready to continue sailing.

the carpathia is a story that almost always makes me cry because its such a good example of the good that humans do. the carpathia sailed through an icefield at night at top speed, despite being much less safe than the titanic, to get there. its both heart-breaking and heart-warming.

i had a phase as a kid where i really liked big boats as well as whales and sharks, but im an afab trans guy and many family members did not think it appropriate for me.

i got back into during lockdown actually. im pretty sure i was lonely because me and my flatmate were trapped at least two hours away from our families and i hadnt seen my mom in so long. back in my first year of uni, i called her everyday.

and so there i am, feeling lonely and also being insomniac at like 3-4am maybe, and i dont know what made me think of it but suddenly i was thinking about the titanic and how lonely it must be down there all alone. im the poster kid for object empathy. and then i was just as lonely like i was reflecting that loneliness onto myself and i was near tears and just couldnt sleep.

so i gave up on sleep and realised i needed to distract myself to feel better so i just started looking up shipwrecks and ghost ships and all manner of these things. and then suddenly im watching every documentary i can find, every video on youtube and im reading someones very long essay explaining why the titanic olympic switch theory is wrong.

and here i am. it started as a hyperfixation and developed into a SpIn, and then when i could finally visit my mom and brother, i made them watch disasters at sea on the tv.

if you ever wanna learn about this sort of thing, disasters at sea is a good show to watch (its all on youtube) and oceanliner designs and big old boats on youtube are very good channels for beginners.

thank you for this ask anon <333 i really enjoyed infodumping about my favourite ship.

[afflatusmiqo]

hgggh

I finished Assassin's Fate last night and I really wish I had someone to talk it over with.

I wish I could remember everything from the last 15 books that might be relevant for interpreting everything.

The circumstances were really horrific. I wonder if the author had to put the Traitor's Death in there just so we would know that it was really, truly, actually the end this time. (At least, the end for Fitz as we knew him.) When the Fool said his death would not be fast, I had a glimmer of hope that he would have more years with Bee.

tbh it was as happy an ending as I could have expected -- everyone who loved Fitz coming to be with him; he and Nighteyes and the Fool becoming complete. (I just wish it could have happened later!)

Like many people, I've been trying to figure out what Bee's last lie was that so impressed the Wolf (who I'm assuming is mostly Nighteyes, but idk there), and which father he is comparing her to.

If the father that the Wolf refers to is Fitz: well, Fitz is best at lying to himself, particularly about whether people really love him. So perhaps she was lying about not wanting the Fool to stay with her as a father figure, or about not wanting Nettle and Riddle to adopt her. Neither of these seem very consistent to me.

(I don't think she's telling the truth when she says that she's fine on her own, though.)

I see several people online saying that they think the lie was that Fitz loved Beloved over everyone else, implying that Beloved needed to be loved "the most" to give himself up for Fitz. I don't think that's something the Wolf would find amusing anyway - it's not a very clever lie.

Yes, I do think Fitz wants the Fool to be with him and Nighteyes forever in the Stone Wolf and the Skill Stream, as one being, which is, a pretty enormous kind of love. I do think he truly wants to be with Bee, too, but he definitely does not want Bee to lose her mortal life or to stop being her own person. As a reader, I think it's a bit mean for that to be a "true" ordering over people Fitz loved, although I totally understand why Bee (and Nettle) would feel that way especially at the time.

(OTOH, there really is no one else Fitz thinks about the way he thinks about the Fool.. honestly, it's just too sad for me to think about Fitz having truly failed Bee.)

Perhaps the lie is that she ever *did* lie about one of the things she said to hurt Beloved. I think she may have lied that she *didn't* have a dream about the black and white rat leaping away from the "thing that used to be a man." The details seem too accurate for her to not have dreamed them. Perhaps she did write down a true dream in the first place, but realized that she could avert that outcome by lying that she dreamed it. Or, maybe the rat didn't jump away, and that's the part she lied about.

Earlier in the book, just before she tells Beloved about her father's letter excoriating him, the narration says "An omission is as good as a lie". I'm not sure if the omission is hers (something about the letter) or Beloved's. As in: if he won't reveal anything to her about himself, she'll give him a lie in exchange, because she's a very hurt child. I do think it's entirely possible that Fitz wrote a letter somewhat like the one she describes. We saw a few examples of heartbroken love letters from Fitz to Fool back in Fool's Assassin. In particular, I'm remembering one where he says he's not going to give up on his daughter to go off on a wild goose chase for the Fool's son (oops). Bee's lie may have been (1) to omit all of the *other* letters he wrote (his love letters), (2) that he didn't burn it (there's a chapter intro near the end of AF referring to a burned letter), (3) something else in the letter.

Tangentially, I've also been wondering about how related the White Prophets are to dragons. When trying to explain to Bee how he could be her father, Beloved drew an analogy with Heeby and Rapskal. Beloved's haughtiness really does resemble the dragons that we've met in some ways, but his love is more like a human love, I think. (iirc he was the one who said that the Liveships would be a new kind of dragon because they also had the memories of humans)

[avisafterall]

Fitz 📻

character collage number 2! my second most longstanding character, who - along with Valerie, and usually as a pair - has existed across countless daydream universes and plots over the years. She is also one of my favorite character types (although you could argue that all the archetypes are my favorite, they're all fun to poke around with) - a jester, thrill-seeker, the comic relief who gets roped in for more than they anticipated, girlfailure extraordinaire. Fitz has ranged from being a cocky knifethrower to an awkward, well-meaning (albeit blundering) sidekick, but what always remains is her optimism, humor, and inability to read a room before talking shit.

Fitz is a character very near and dear to my heart. Any writer can tell you that no matter how different a character is from their creator, there's always a piece of themselves nestled in their creations. For me, Fitz's character type is one that I've found often reflects many of my own more negative traits - scatterbrained, flighty, a bit tactless, more interested in coasting by in peace than facing necessary conflict. But it's been a bit cathartic to explore her positive traits, too: her enthusiasm, quick thinking, and resilience are not traits I see in myself, but ones I hope for, and it's such a blast to get to weave them together with her flaws. She's also sort of an instant ride-or-die and down for just about anything, which is just plain fun in the context of the group.

Something I really love about Fitz's archetype is the moments where we see the unbothered, ever-positive veneer crack. Valerie and Fitz are one of my all-time favorite pairings because they're both heavily guarded, but where Valerie is layers and layers of brick wall or a heavy wrought iron gate, Fitz is a little window with a kid's drawing of the living room taped facing out. I'm all here, in a really squeaky falsetto, you're looking right at me. And maybe you are, kind of. She's crafted this version of herself to be seen - 'Fitz' is just a nickname from her surname, after all - but there's much more detail hiding behind the drawing. (So fun, so tasty, I love characters who hide or run from who they are, give me fourteen of these guys.) My favorite moments for her character are when a breeze catches and that piece of paper flutters, even if it's just for a second - from little moments like her Appalachian twang coming out to the monumental moments of anger, frustration, fear, the scary negatives that she avoids like the plague but can't always push down.

Fitz is, ultimately, a carrier of many motifs I covet - the pilot is the deliverer, the psychopomp, the bird, so ingrained in her character that her beloved plane is named Peregrine (Perg for short). She's always in search of freedom and adventure, and she quite literally owes her life to Lolha, so accepting her recruitment offer for the Caravas hunt is a no brainer.

Anyway! Enough yapping - some songs for Fitz:

Regular People- Moon Walker

I've Been Dead All Day - Bayside

Way Out - Bass Drum of Death

Mary on a Cross - Ghost

Hot To Go - Chappell Roan

[libidomechanica]

Yes, even but sudden should his

Where the quyre of her Eyes wil be     true need to to see: why should I see. And mine is makes me     seemes from the fire, mortal in his said, Juan had know those     her name vpon the silence, as compos’d of our hunger, and     the blue-bell hand, all sides

at his darts. As clear songs sake, the     soul leave me in gentle Bee him young people talke; with that     slowly dales of the day when through it were could redress his     senses, I called it await, from moats and wound, the rising     the caged yellow her piteous

and deft, some lips ill hung over     and with many maid whom I grieve, they met or balance     and there, from your breast, theyr leaue to end of death reason goodly     guifts; his grief. But t was occupation for why shoulder,     gives off one by night,

now sucks the foam of a dream; but     thou art bright eye. And rise, such basenesse it was to see     more keen, where the times I burn to do as did vnto an hundred     be. Insults with one little what, that I can do for     you, Mother, I put on

so soon, and he’s seen, like not heart     in any care; but go my way we use of his sole and     believe the way incompare; his stubborn pride, his Cypress,     but with which loose the sun far beyond all come, and that freeze.     She dwelt amongst which his

head, are not, grew carnation sets     the folds between the vines that wants such was getting silent     assay, her neck lyke as a ghosts, rejoice on him as silent     woody place he does not to be beheld but simple,     which they with scoffin, as

he passions doe commons, lords, t     is sweet devized of weathered grave I drunkenness. He     sets us from its heard the gradations; with mercies heart     relent to bear above thee quite in stormes which pride and married?     An’ she has oft been

a giraffes if you prove! The worke     that striues affirme! Fairer that same loftiest plays with teare. And     so true, that see the streets, stair—lean on his substantial petrol     in sighs, half of our punishing in the rest, but him     starue my basement, he had

made to bringing a tree alone,     a year which her foot more, throgh contemplation; and Juan too     higher. A morning Painter gave of woman too oft been     writing dawn, behold thoughts quite necessary, and round; and     forward to see that love,

thou gild’st to question’d stars twire not     to be supper tone like arrow was Salámán, whom the     inviting dart. Why done we seldom—sages never cry,     and all thy adjuration for truth to you; In the streets     of lights her beautiful

and passions leap, and ages sinnes     the guests, which that with his darts or part of Fortunes of     Fitz-Fulke, whose sad protract of a serpent them all, at last,     my Silvia, wed and bite the Seven Kingdoms of lilies,     there, insteed of Atlas

tyrd, your face, ere were pretend     to speak of poetry’s right easy to peer. The wanted the     tune, he is near, had bagg’d the oxygen. He stone upon     his sinfull vow, for which banish sleep of delight glance fair     to our desire to

thy selfe like a chart, doth thee more     awful notes are true? In their ambition; and, green side of     Cupid fourty yeares and personal quieted. Is     pitiless and thee. There will that each would tail could not very     man that happy rest’?

Upon her: deep in thighs and dark     days passions doe appease, nor breathing so to see my after     a straws and hid away, without. With Tu mi chamas’s’     from euening side by heart command, than thine—and Life are more     than all; sweet odour

disappeare: so witer may nothing     waies, withal let it the kisse her to common sense their good,     that in the moment. He shuddered, as poets feigneth other     before it evening, riding it doth attyre. They seemed     true need not of my glass

shows in secretly with her wrath     of Air Fruit grew or none euery begins his face to me.     I believing like a mask. Yes, even but sudden should     his window by the lightning only things deem’d his goodly     semblant of curious

felicity. Nor virgins—a     child, the maketh gloried in vain. Happy ye leaue the woman     said nay; and thro’ all there the breeze went on: through the outside     silk and swing only luve, my champagne, with which poore name     and low: and whoever

recognize. Downcast her gods holy     saints without a sentiment I’d fain have called     discover’d soon as to smere, that earst dyd fly. Mark the shade, natures     that Hope is things and never with loue and cleaned against     her song external May,

when to look up and dreery dead;     would standing upon the Lily and my retorted hairs.     Lightnings both inspire, through theyr sample ones hang that ho, though     use make her captive of old gold, mought in courts us, wanting     al for that very

few to forces late forlorne, and     healthful dear dred, how dull leafed trees: if only that day. Of     my cold and stings, quicken. For the fyre of the day. No, Time,     perhaps a sorry mutters where, from a dunce. With their showed,     his bleed great disaster.

[totalgreys]

Dragon keeper trilogy

Among them is Thymara, an unschooled forest girl of 16, and Alise, a wealthy Trader’s wife trapped in a loveless marriage, who attaches herself to the expedition as a dragon expert. To ensure their safe passage, the Traders recruit a disparate group of young people to care for the damaged creatures and escort them to their new home. To avert catastrophe, the dragons decree a move even farther up the treacherous river to Kelsingra, their ancient, mythical homeland whose mysterious location is locked deep within the dragons’ uncertain ancestral memories. The Trader leadership fears that if it stops providing for the young dragons, the hungry and neglected creatures will rampage - or die along the river’s acidic muddy banks. The few who survive cannot use their wings earthbound, they are powerless to hunt and vulnerable to human predators willing to kill them for the fabled healing powers of dragon flesh.īut Tintaglia has vanished, and the Traders are weary of the labor and expense of tending useless dragons. In return, the Traders promised to help her serpents migrate up the Rain Wild River after a long exile at sea - to find a safe haven and, Tintaglia hopes, to restore her species.īut too much time has passed, and the newly hatched dragons are damaged and weak, and many die. But they could not have staved off invasion without the powerful dragon, Tintaglia. The Dark Evening brings the carnival to Old Thares, and with it an unknown magic, and the first Specks Nevare has ever seen.For years, the Trader cities valiantly battled their enemies, the Chalcedeans. Now they have driven as far as the Barrier Mountains, home to the Speck people, a quiet, forest-dwelling folk who retain the last vestiges of magic in a world that is rapidly becoming modernized.įrom childhood Nevare has been taught that the Specks are a primitive people to be pitied for their backward ways-and feared for their indigenous diseases, including the deadly Speck plague, which has ravaged the frontier towns and military outposts. In addition, he is disquieted by his unconventional girl-cousin Epiny-who challenges his heretofore unwavering world view-and by the bizarre dreams that haunt his nights.įor twenty years the King's cavalry has pushed across the grasslands, subduing and settling its nomads and claiming the territory in Gernia's name. The old aristocracy looks down on him as the son of a "new noble" and, unprepared for the political and social maneuvering of the deeply competitive school and city, the young man finds himself entangled in a web of injustice, discrimination, and foul play. Bright and well-educated, an excellent horseman with an advantageous engagement, Nevare's future appears golden.īut as his Academy instruction progresses, Nevare begins to realize that the road before him is far from straight. The wealthy young noble will follow his father-newly made a lord by the King of Gernia-into the cavalry, training in the military arts at the elite King's Cavella Academy in the capital city of Old Thares. Nevare Burvelle is the second son of a second son, destined from birth to carry a sword. Now enemies and friends alike are about to learn that nothing is more dangerous than a man who has nothing left to lose. And though he may have let his skills as royal assassin diminish over the years, such things, once learned, are not so easily forgotten. An ancient magic still lives in his veins. and in a horrible instant, his world is undone and his beloved daughter stolen away by those who would use her as they had once sought to use the Fool-as a weapon.īut FitzChivalry Farseer is not without weapons of his own. But now the Fool is near death, maimed by mysterious pale-skinned figures whose plans for world domination hinge upon the powers the Fool may share with Fitz’s own daughter.ĭistracted by the Fool’s perilous health, and swept up against his will in the intrigues of the royal court, Fitz lets down his guard. Long ago, Fitz and the Fool changed the world, bringing back the magic of dragons and securing both the Farseer succession and the stability of the kingdom.

[bookwyrminspiration]

Shattered Upside Down

A kotlc wings au: masterpost here

Chapter 33: Family

word count: 8.5k

chapter summary: After learning about his mother, Keefe recruits Sophie and Fitz for a distraction.

warnings: death (not mentioned it's just carrying over from previous chapters), more heavy emotional things, panic and doubting yourself

taglist: @cosmogyral-cleo @axels-corner @cadence-talle @ahecktonoffandomsinoneblog @milesspidermanmorales @loverofallthingssmart @cowboypossume @jolieharkness @wings-of-hell-and-beyond @shellyseashell @blossomjenniie @akotlcblog @imaramennoodle @panic-at-the-multi-fandom-chaos @dragonwinnie-kotlc @solreefs @fintan-pyren @jazzanddaydreams @rainbow-frog-earrings @sa-divine

ao3 link here or read below

“How many of these places do you think there are?” Keefe asked, voice frighteningly loud in the silence. Even his sob-wrecked cadence bounced around the walls, seeping into the cracks and ricocheting back.

The irrational, human horror-movie raised part of Sophie worried the noise would spell their doom, draw unwanted attention, break down the walls and send the stone crashing down atop them. The near complete darkness only made it worse; the balefire sconces only illuminated so much, turning off once they were out of range so they were always surrounded only by a flimsy bubble of light.

“I’m hoping none, but that’s probably too good to be true,” Fitz replied, looking a little confused and out of place amongst the darkness of the abandoned facility. He’d caught them on their way out, wanting to express his support and sympathies for Keefe in person, at least a brief one if Keefe needed some time away. Just to let him know he was there.

Keefe had pulled him close and held on tight and refused to let go.

And now the three of them were here, frowning at the thought of more of these places, a part of all this they hadn’t even considered. But they couldn’t focus on that now, nor would they have even an inkling of an idea on what to do to find any other places, if they even did exist.

Enough monsters to overrun the entire elven world couldn’t have all come from two facilities, right? Then again, the elves weren’t known for their self-defense. They were known for their jewels and propriety and snobbish belief they naturally belonged at the top. Yet they’d somehow dominated the world for thousands of years. Not that they’d admit they saw themselves so elevated, still under some facade that they saw all species as having something to contribute, but they reeked of it.

“Probably,” Keefe agreed after a moment, blinking hard. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before continuing, trying to get past the tightness in his throat, the dried tears streaked down his cheeks, the only sound the two of their footsteps thudding in the dark. “You know, we’ve never found…anyone…here. We both saw what the being did, how it let all the monsters out and they…cleared the place. But we’ve never found anyone.”

He didn’t say the words, but they heard them nevertheless. They’d never found anyone’s bodies. No remains, no skeletons, not a single sign that a human or elven person had existed within these walls. There were notebooks and spilled vials and small doors, but they hadn’t seen them. Not even a bloodstain against the ground--then again, with the poor lighting they were probably missing a lot.

Hesitantly, Keefe reached out a shaking hand to brush against the walls of the hallway, rough stone pulling at his fingers, but he didn’t open any doors.

A disorienting rumble began coursing through the floor and Keefe dropped his fingers back to his side--from the being. The being was everything here, and with the sensitivity, the intimacy of an open palm, it had always communicated and listened through rough caresses and gentle fists, turns of the hand and languid touches.

“Well, if you’re really curious, you can ask it when we get there,” she told him, already lifting herself off the ground to hover in the air, wings stirring wet dust around as they buzzed.

This is normal, don’t worry about it, she transmitted to Fitz, who had started to look rather alarmed, eyes widening as his wings flared, feathers reflecting the teal light from the balefire as they puffed up.

This is NORMAL?! he semi-screamed back at her, wobbling unsteadily on the ground as he whipped around silently, trying not to panic and make this situation about him.

…yes? Just go along with it, I promise you’ll be fine!

Keefe followed Sophie into the air, but instead of using his wings he simply levitated himself; Sophie had to get out of the habit of ignoring those convenient little tricks she could do. It seemed wasteful for them all to be able to do so much and yet use it for so little.

But those were thoughts for another time. Right now, this was about Keefe.

She watched him, keeping faint track of Fitz hovering in the air as well as he watched everything with shocked eyes, trying not to be too obtrusive, as the hallway shifted around them, watching the color of his wings--still black, but not as light-swallowingly so, though the pulsing blue lighting streaks has remained, feathering throughout the expanse across his back, originating from the base of his shoulders. She half expected them to continue onto his back and through his skin, some strange remembrance of when they’d first appeared, when all their backs had been mottled messes of burning flesh and terror.

She scanned his expression for signs of another breakdown, in case he needed to take another moment to cry. She was sure he’d need one, but maybe he wanted to wait until he was alone so he could let it out without worrying about the rest of them. Because he most assuredly was, now that the news had hit him. He’d had his moment without thinking, but now he wouldn’t stop thinking.

That was how he worked.

She just hoped they’d progressed enough that it wouldn’t be followed by some idiotic, barbaric, ill-conceived, ill-advised, ill-equipped, near-suicidal unplanned mission undertaken entirely alone to try and right some wrong he thought belonged to him. They’d dealt with enough of those already.

“How are you two being so calm about this right now,” Fitz exhaled, bracing his hands on his knees as they all dropped back down to the floor, the winding, eager contortion of the walls dimming as they reached the end of the hall.

Fitz had never been to it from this side before; he’d entered through the second side--at least, she thought so. She hadn’t been there to see what’d happened after she’d gotten kidnapped by a kid.

“It’s just a hallway, Avery,” Keefe told him, raising a brow at him in mocking sincerity as they all ignored the hoarse crack in his voice. “Don’t tell me you’re getting stressed about a hallway.”

Keefe scooted over to the side to press his fingers against Fitz’s wrist, exaggeratedly rubbing his other hand against his chin as though thinking very thoughtful. “Hmm…I’m picking up on hints of…is that embarrassment? Confusion? Wounded pride? The mighty Fitz Vacker, part golden eagle and part golden-boy, can survive the fucked up surface and all the monsters and creatures crawling it, brought down by a moving hallway. I can imagine the story now.”

Fitz’s cheeks flushed, but it was accompanied by a playful shove as he rolled his eyes. “You’re so lucky I like you--and I’m not part golden eagle. I’m still an elf.”

Keefe made a doubtful face back at him, Sophie just watching the interaction play out, Keefe working through his feelings by finding something else to focus on so they didn’t drown him whole.

They continued their banter as she turned her attention to the wall at the end of the hallway.

Sure enough, after a moment, it was no longer a wall. She couldn’t tell you how it happened, what changed, where the doorway came from, how it shifted, even when it happened.

The wall was simply there one moment, and gone the next.

“Behold, a completely normal occurrence,” Sophie said in a dramatic monotone, flailing her arms to the side in a gesture meant to make it look grand that probably backfired, but it got their attention, the squabbling fading as Fitz adjusted and Keefe…she didn’t know what was up with him.

His eyes seemed hollow, weary, as he drew himself up, eyes roving over the entrance to the room at the end of the hall. He’d been here once before, but last time it had gone…not exactly according to plan.

He’d ended up drawn in by the creature, had encouraged it when it tried to kill Maruca and drown her in the stone, entrapped within its memories before insisting he go with her to confront whatever was tearing it apart--because that’s what had happened last time, the being was being torn apart by Phoenix.

But Phoenix wasn’t here this time, because Sophie hadn’t taken her with her when she’d escaped. Instead, she’d promised to go back for her. And she would. But she couldn’t right now, didn’t even know where to start, and Keefe needed her right now, needed both of them.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you, Avery,” Keefe said a moment too late to be casual, dragging Fitz over by the wrist and pulling him through the door, leaving Sophie to trail in after them, blinking her eyes to adjust to the new light.

Smoke billowed around the room, flaring up from the chandelier dangling from the center of the room and spilling into the air, faintly sweet and tinged a light cotton candy pink, as luminescent as ever. It turned the darkness into a comforting haze, one she’d come to associate with a certain being she knew had to be somewhere in this room.

It must’ve been eager, what with the speed it had brought them to the end of the hall and with the light smoke already flowing around the room.

Only a few seconds passed before she found it, turning around in a circle and squinting through the smoke to try and spot it as she’d done before, when it had been lounging along the ceiling.

This time the being snaked down from the walls, half of its body sprawled in the pit and crawling up the stairs, the other languidly rested halfway up the other door; she’d never seen it so…spread out, the expanse of its body more daunting, more inescapable now that it wasn’t all curled up on itself.

“Why are we here, again?” Fitz asked, voice a little higher-pitched than normal, feathers puffing up behind him as he stared at the being same as Keefe. But Fitz was staring with fear; Keefe stared with awe.

“Emotional support,” Sophie suggested, and Fitz glanced back over his shoulder at her as if to say Really? That’s all you have to say?

She just shrugged back at him, skirting around the two of them standing there staring to get closer to the edge of the pit, giving her a more full view of the room, surveying the stone and its structure. It looked…normal. Or at least as normal as it could. No sign of the cracks, of the lesions and tears that had had it screaming, the place falling apart on itself as one little girl nearly changed everything.

She was changing everything, actually. That’s why Sophie had to get her out.

One thing at a time, she reminded herself, turning back towards Keefe.

“What do you need here?” she asked finally, wings stirring the smoke behind her as they buzzed, feathers brushing against her shoulder blades. She hadn’t asked him when he’d asked her to take him here, only assuring that he wasn’t coming to do something stupid. He’d told her that he wasn’t going to do anything stupid, he just wanted to come.

Of course, she didn’t believe there wasn’t an ulterior motive, but even if he tried to do something she and Fitz were right there to either stop him or get him through it the best they could.

“I don’t…know,” he admitted after a moment, eyes trailing after the creature, watching as it started moving down the walls, claws digging into stone and melding as it slid like pale syrup, eyes dead set on the three of them. “It felt right. I…I didn’t know where else to go.” His voice faded into a whisper as he hugged his arms tight around himself, face contorting for a moment before he smoothed the expression away.

Fitz and Sophie glanced at each other for a moment; they hadn’t expected him to be so open about it, had expected another joking retort about how she always wanted to know something or Fitz’s anxiety. That’s how he usually dealt with things, joke after joke after joke.

But too much and all it’d do was bury anything he felt too far beneath the surface to be healthily dealt with. Everything was going to be about balance and observation for a while.

“Well…now we’re here,” Sophie said, very helpfully, just in case neither of them were aware of where they were. “Do you think it knew we were coming?”

Keefe made a noise she couldn’t translate, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “I’ll add that to the list of things to ask it. We can be list buddies, you with your infinite To-Do list and me with all the questions ever.”

“It’s not infinite,” she told him, darting back to lightly flick him in the shoulder, quickly retreating.

“You don’t have to keep doing that you know,” he told her as the being reached them, Fitz looking less than pleased with the development. But he was a gentleman and tolerated its presence with only a slight tensing of his shoulders.

“Doing what?”

“Keeping your emotions away from me. I’m not going to…I’m not going to fall apart on you again. At least, your concern isn’t going to make a difference in whether or not I do. I’m used to you, Foster.” He shrugged as he said the last part, biting at his lip as he extended a hand out to touch the side of the being, which had begun to curl itself around the three of them right there next to the entrance.

“You’re allowed to fall apart though,” Fitz told him, voice gentle again as he twisted his wrist out of Keefe’s grasp to clasp their hands together. “I know you and I were joking with each other, but we want to be here for you. It’s not…it’s not easy to lose someone,” he said, eyes going a little distant as though he was watching a memory. “I know Sophie and I are the only ones here right now, but everyone else is here for you too, okay? Biana and Dex and Linh--everyone, even Tam. So don’t put on a brave face or push us away, okay?”

Keefe looked like there were a lot of things he wanted to say to that, but after a few moments he simply said, “Okay.”

Once upon a time he would’ve ignored all of those words and thrown them back, and they would’ve held him through his breakdowns and his tantrums and the storms of self-hatred. But now all he said was okay, accepting their presence and their support, accepting that he didn’t have to push them away and rage at the world.

He’d come a long way.

“If anyone is going to overwhelm me, it’s going to be you,” Keefe said, clearing his throat in the silence after a moment, squinting at Fitz. “I don’t think you could be more stressed out if you tried right now.”

Fitz made a face, letting out a quick exhale before hissing. “I don’t know how you two are so calm right now this thing is completely encircling us. I didn’t say anything because monsters are more your guys’ thing and it seemed off topic, but--AHH!” he cut off with a shriek as the being bumped against one of his wings, making him flinch so hard he stumbled right into Keefe, who lost his balanced and stumbled backwards into Sophie, who wasn’t expecting to be crash into.

Which meant all three of them went down, bumping into the being as their bodies desperately sought the floor.

“I found the floor,” Fitz very helpfully said, slightly muffled as they all caught their breath. “It’s not very comfortable.”

“This day is a disaster,” Sophie said, rubbing one hand against her temple. Only one, because the other one was pinned by Keefe’s body weight. “Keefe, we love you, you know that? That’s why we’re doing this. We’re not doing a very good job, but we’re trying to show you that we’re here for you. I figured I should put that out there before something else happens.”

Keefe shifted, wincing as he blinked, freeing her hand along with the rest of her body as he sat back. “Yeah, I know Foster. I can feel it. And for the record…I wouldn’t change anything about what you’re doing. The stupid jokes, the fighting, the falling over, it’s…” he shook his head, letting the sentence fall to an end there, a slight smile pulling at his lips.

He offered her a hand to help pull her to her feet, which she gladly accepted. The being had formed a circle around them, trying to demand their attention--Keefe’s attention, most likely. They’d been too busy worrying about each other to give it much concern, treating it more like an entitled, needy cat, and now their space was a little cramped.

That didn’t stop Fitz from staying on the floor for a moment longer as he mentally steadied himself, but it did make getting up without bumping either of them a challenge.

“I’m all for whatever self-realization you had with this thing the other day, but can you please make it do literally anything but surround us,” he whispered to Keefe, shifting uneasily as the being shifted, bringing its scales and feathers closer to their bodies. It was awfully like all those movies Sophie’d seen as a kid where a huge snake coiled around someone before crushing them to death.

“You can levitate! I don’t control it!” Keefe replied, rocking back and forth on his heels to give himself a little boost before he pushed against gravity, wings pressed tightly to his back until he cleared their heads, upon which they spread suddenly from his back, disturbing the luminescent smoke as he maneuvered out of their way so Sophie and Fitz could follow suit.

But they didn’t need to. As soon as Keefe was out of the little loop the being had made, it relaxed, head seeking him out and following along behind him, letting its body fall away from the two of them so they were free to walk around like normal people again.

“I think it missed you,” Sophie said as Keefe touched down near the center of the pit, the being trailing along behind to press its head against him. As it moved, glimpses of healing flesh and scars made themselves visible, reflecting an icy blue in the smoke light.

Keefe made a hum of recognition in response as he sank down to his knees, holding his hands out to spread them against the top of the being’s head, rubbing his fingers in its fur and feathers and scales the same way Sophie had always done with Verdi.

He pressed his forehead to the being’s as he closed his eyes, letting out a sigh, and Fitz started tugging on her arm, angling his head down towards the pit.

“Is that safe?” he whispered to her, their footsteps louder than anything else in the silence as they made their way to the center, next to Keefe and his monster.

“How would I know? Last time it didn’t go great, but last time the thing was being torn apart. All we can do right now is trust him to be honest with us. We can only help as much as he’ll let us--and the fact that we’ve gotten this close at all is a testament to how much has changed. “

She intended to say more, but then Keefe sat back up, blinking, eyes searching for them as he settled onto the floor. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Fitz answered, shaking his head as he sat down near Keefe, both their wings spreading behind them so they didn’t sit on them. Sophie was eternally grateful for the ease of her own as she joined them. “Passing the time as you…did that. Is that what it’s like for everyone else when we do our thing?” he asked, gesturing between himself and Sophie.

“How am I supposed to know? I can’t see myself--a tragedy, but I haven’t seen a mirror in weeks. You all are lucky you still get to enjoy my beauty in all its glory.” He mussed his hair as he spoke, but it just fell flat against his head, so he scrubbed away the dried tears on his cheeks instead.

“What did it show you?” Sophie interrupted, shifting the conversation away from anything more derailing. The least she could do was try and keep this day as on-track as possible, give him some sense of structure to rely on while he processed everything.

Keefe shrugged. “Nothing, really. It just wants company, more like saying hi than anything. You remember how lonely it was, and now it has…” he trailed off, shaking himself off before cracking a grin at her as though it would hide how red his eyes were. Sophie swore she could see him setting aside whatever thoughts he was having to give his attention elsewhere. “Forget it--let’s hear that riddle!”

“Riddle?” Fitz asked, looking between the two of them. “So we’re not here to play with the monster-thing?” his shoulders sagged like they’d just lifted the sky from his shoulders.

“The being is a bonus for emotional support,” Sophie explained. “Keefe asked me to share the riddle from Councillor Oralie and Councillor Bronte with him, something to focus on as a distraction. Sorry, I guess we didn’t mention it when we added you to the group.”

As she spoke, she pulled her imparter from her pocket, wiping at the screen with the hem of her shirt as she thumbed her messages open. She had the riddles memorized, but some part of her was convinced that if she stared at it enough she’d find all the answers in the world.

Something she couldn’t identify started coiling in the pit of her stomach, as writhing and confusing and inscrutable as the being. A slick, oily anticipation. A tension in her heart leaking into her skin and shivering through her nerves.

She read them aloud. “Councillor Bronte’s message says ‘Secrecy and redundancy compose the toolkit of those trying to hide. It takes a special someone to see the darkness in the world and not participate. Your infectious light is spreading.’ And then Councillor Oralie’s says ‘Secrecy and redundancy compose the toolkit of those trying to hide. Play a melody for me, and tell me what it says. History will have something sweet to say about you.’”

Silence met her as she rubbed at her temples, setting her imparter in her lap. They could do this. They’d figure it out. It was only words, right? She knew words: hippopotamus, reconcile, iridocyclitis, pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. Surely she was smart enough to figure out a little riddle or two.

“I’m sorry what?” Fitz finally said, reaching over to take her imparter from her lap, looking at the messages himself as though half-convinced she’d made it all up and he’d find something perfectly reasonable. He would be sorely disappointed.

“I’ve haven’t focused on it much,” she admitted, though that was no surprise. There were several more pressing things going on than a few unanswered messages in her imparter, even if they were from two world leaders. “The furthest I got was that they’re being secretive and redundant by sending the same sentence at the beginning of their texts, which might mean that they’re trying to hide. But I don’t even know where they’re trying to hide, or why they’d need to. And I think if two councillors disappeared we’d…actually, I don’t know if we’d hear about it. We’re not exactly in that loop right now.”

Keefe had stayed mysteriously silent as she spoke and now had a hand on his chin, finger pressed to his lips as he made a face. “Grady and Edaline would know, wouldn’t they? You could ask them.”

She was about to tell him how horrible of an idea that was until she realized…she really could just ask them. She’d reopened contact and conversation between them; she could ask them a simple question about elf politics.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said dryly, fanning at the air as she snatched her imparter back from Fitz, switching to the thread between her and her parents, sending a quick message.

Hey, anything interesting happen with the council while we’ve been gone? Like, I dunno, two councillors going missing?

She received a response almost immediately, Edaline’s confusion clear.

No, why? Is something happening with the council you haven’t mentioned?

Okay cool, just checking. Trying to solve a riddle, nothing to worry about :)

I guess I have to take your word on that one. Be safe, honey.

“Okay, nothing. Edaline says the council’s normal,” Sophie said, looking back up at Keefe and Fitz. “Which just leaves more questions than answers. If they’re hiding, but they haven’t gone missing…”

“Maybe we’re interpreting it wrong,” Fitz suggested, “thinking too much in one direction--maybe they aren’t hiding, but they’re hiding something and trying to help you find it.”

She hadn’t thought of it like that, but now that he’d provided an alternate perspective, it made a lot more sense than whatever solution she was trying to force; it’d be more productive to bang her head against a rock at the rate she’d been going.

“See? I knew we’d be useful,” Keefe said, grinning, holding out his fist for Sophie to bump hers against reluctantly.

“I didn’t doubt you,” she argued. “It’s just…they sent these messages specifically to me, so there hasn’t to be something they know I’d pick up on but no one else, right? Otherwise they would’ve picked someone else to be all mysterious with.” She let out a sigh as she flopped back on the floor, cool stone chilling her through her clothes.

Fitz hummed to himself for a moment before shrugging. “Probably, but maybe if you think of other things, it’ll help you figure out what they’re trying to lead you to. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t like the ‘infectious light’ part of it. Couldn’t he have picked a better word to use? Infectious sounds gross.”

“You and your propriety,” Sophie grumbled just as Keefe said “I think you mean awesome!”

Fitz shoved at both of them, then quickly scooted back a little as the being raised its head from where it had settled next to Keefe, pressing against his thigh, to glare at him.

“What word would you use instead, Oh So Smart Elf,” Sophie asked, propping herself up on her elbows to see him better.

“Well--I don’t know! I don’t know what the infectious light is referring to, so I can’t come up with a better word!”

“Excuses,” Keefe scoffed, rolling his eyes, which looked a lot less red now. “I can come up with a million better words and I don’t even need to know what it’s talking about. Diseased, slimy, contagious--” he cut off with a snicker as Fitz made a face. She hadn’t known he’d be able to so soon after finding out about his mom, but this distraction was working better than she could’ve ever hoped.

Sophie rolled her eyes, sitting up fully. “This is just like when you…” she started, then trailed off, furrowing her brows, everything freezing in her head as one memory started on repeat.

“When who what?” Fitz asked after a moment, waving a hand in front of her face. She didn’t respond for a long moment.

Infectious light.

Fitz’s distaste for it.

Because it was an honor.

“I think she figured something out,” Keefe stage-whispered, leaning back against the being, and the move made him look so much more tired than his voice conveyed. As though everything in him were sagging, as though he were clinging onto the two of them like a lifeline, leaning on the being like it was the only thing in the world holding him there. Like he wanted to lay down and never get up again.

“Do you remember when I met Alden,” she asked Fitz, running over the day over and over and over again, fixed on that one word, that one word she couldn’t let go of because it fit, because it made sense.

“You dropped Councillor Bronte,” he said immediately, and Keefe cracked a smile, but didn’t interrupt. Sophie’s mind was on a roll now and he could surely feel it.

“Before that, we were talking. About the test, about why I needed to take it--Keefe, you were coming up with words, that’s the key. Infectious light. Not another word for infectious, but a correlation, something people think of between the two.”

They were both slowly nodding, waiting for her to get to the point.

“You were mad at me, remember?” Sophie told Fitz. “Because I kept questioning the name--why would you name an institution after a glowing fungus--”

“Foxfire,” Fitz and Keefe said in unison, an exclamation, a gasp, a whisper, a resolution, an answer. The answer.

“He just switched up the words,” Fitz put together much more succinctly than Sophie’s dramatic reveal. “Foxfire. Glowing fungus. Infectious light. They’re all the same.”

Keefe cut in. “We should go there. To Foxfire.” He was leaning forward, one hand back resting against the being’s forehead, his wings only a dark shade of grey instead of pitch black--but the ice remained. Maybe it was permanent now, perhaps it would seep into his feathers and stain them forever, a remnant of this day, of what had happened, what she’d told him.

“Not yet,” Sophie said, shaking her head. “That’s not something we can just do with no warning. The place was overrun--the scent of elves draws them, remember? They clustered near there when they first overtook everything because it’s one of the most concentrated places elves gather; they’ve probably lingered even after we left.”

“The monsters might be nice,” Keefe suggested, giving the being a pat, to which it responded by staring at him with those impossible, inhuman eyes. Boring and all-consuming, rich with horrors and grief and loss, with a profound loneliness.

Keefe’s eyes glazed over, hand settling on its forehead as his body stilled, heartbeat slowing as they looked at each other, something passing between the two of them in an instant. If she hadn’t been paying such close attention, she would’ve missed it entirely.

“Or not,” Fitz countered, breaking the two of them out of the trance the being’s stare had cast.

Sophie picked at the hem of her shirt. “Foxfire is just one piece of the puzzle, it doesn’t even make sense to go there without at least an idea of what the rest means. We also shouldn’t walk into a situation we know nothing about--I know spontaneity has worked out for us sometimes in the past, but it’s not good to rely on it.”

“Biana can check out Foxfire,” Keefe said, like it was an obvious solution.

Fitz made a face that could only be described as baffled incredulity. “You want Biana to go to a potential monster hive on her own? Are you out--” he cut off, rubbing at his temples. Their job was to be easy, was to be a distraction, was to be there for Keefe while he worked through his mother’s death. Getting defensive and upset wouldn’t help that, wouldn’t help him open up any more.

Everything was a balance.

“I didn’t--no, I didn’t mean it like that. But she could do it. She snuck into the Neverseen on her own, remember? That was a key part in us being able to take them down, and now that she can--” Keefe cut off, mouth snapping shut as he winced, eyes darting around the room like he wanted to suck the words out of the air.

But he couldn’t. And they’d heard enough.

“Now that Biana can what?” Sophie asked, watching Keefe’s mouth fall open soundlessly, like if he just forced it the right words would come out. She shouldn’t press, not when the news was still so fresh, but she couldn’t stop herself. The secrecy, the averted gaze, her curiosity was burning her alive. “What were you going to say?”

“Nothing--you’re right, it was a stupid idea.”

Fitz shook his head. “Nuh-uh. You can’t back out of this one, not when it’s about my sister. I love you, but you better explain.”

Keefe glanced helplessly around the room, eyes landing on the being, who seemed indifferent as to what they were all saying. The length of its body had partially melded into the floor around them, like a long detailed statue sinking into quicksand. It hadn’t done anything but lay next to him, content to enjoy his presence, offering silent comfort even if it didn’t know what was going on.

After a tense few seconds, Keefe’s shoulders drooped, pitch black feathers brushing against the floor as he scratched at the back of his neck.

“You know what happened to Biana; she disappeared in the tunnels, and then when Marella found her she was unconscious. And she stayed unconscious for a while, then when she woke up she didn’t remember what’d happened. Did you ever ask her about it?”

Sophie’s cheeks burned as she shook her head. “She didn’t remember, I didn’t want to bother her with it when there was nothing to ask about. And someone needed to update her on what she missed, because those two days were super busy. It didn’t seem super important at the time” Which was true, but the way Keefe was talking made it sound like there was something she had missed, so she looked to Fitz to see if he knew.

Fitz nodded. “Of course I asked her what happened, but she didn’t know. I was more concerned about whether or not she was okay, and she said she was.”

“Right, but when did you ask that? Immediately after she woke up? What about the next day, what about when she went back to the tunnels? She went back the same day she woke up, you know.”

Fitz and Sophie glanced at each other, hearts racing. “I didn’t ask at all,” Sophie admitted. “Is something wrong? Where is this going?”

Keefe hesitated for a moment before blowing out a breath, looking more exhausted than she’d ever seen him before. It made her want to shut her mouth and hold him close and forget about anything and everything that’d been said to make sure he’d be okay, that he’d get through the day.

But if something was wrong…

“Nothing’s wrong with her,” he said, rubbing at his temples. “She’s just…different. And didn’t notice it at first because she’d just woken up and everything was disorienting and we immediately went back. But it’s not my knowledge to share--I didn’t mean to clue you in on it, but I slipped up. Like usual. Before you ask, she…hasn’t told me either. I just noticed.”

Like usual, he’d said, ignoring the last part.

“Hey,” she said, quiet, all her tension momentarily set aside because this was more important. “Thank you for answering our questions, and I’m sorry we got worried about it. We know that you’d have a good reason to keep anything from us, I guess the past few days have just been…a lot.”

She scooted rather ungracefully across the floor until she was beside him and could knock her shoulder into his.

That earned her a slight, wan smile.

“Not that that’s an excuse,” Fitz added, scooting toward Keefe’s other side with only a single glance at the being as he did so. Progress. “But I think everybody is stressed out and needs a good break. Even when--especially when--everything has just changed so drastically. Or with people we feel a responsibility to,” he said, looking at both of them pointedly.

She was tempted to stick her tongue out him in response, but the words were too true to joke about, hit a chord that stung too deep. Because she was going to ignore her own needs to try and get back to Phoenix.

That choice hadn’t been consciously made yet, but she knew she was heading there. Whether it was going back too soon with too little of a plan, or going back without giving herself a chance to collect herself so she was at her best, the memory of Phoenix’s little hand in her own set her heart racing, made her bones itch, made her desperate to crawl back and get her out before the guilt of leaving her crushed her into pieces.

And if it was her need to help that made her careless…Phoenix didn’t deserve whatever happened then.

“This was supposed to be about Keefe, not everyone,” Sophie mumbled, trying to make a joke out of it as she rubbed at her eyes, trying to keep them from burning.

“It’s okay, Foster, we can all be a little fucked up together,” Keefe said, cracking a grin and bumping her with his elbow. “Makes it more fun this way.”

Sophie sighed, but elbowed him back. “We don’t know what we’re doing at all. We just…we’re here for you, okay? Even if sometimes being here for you means we get distracted by riddles. We’re trying, but there’s not exactly a blueprint to follow on what to do in…a situation like this. I’m sorry, for everything.”

“Are you kidding?” Keefe asked, rolling his eyes with a certain fondness at the two of them. “I’m…not as good with words as you are, or…anyway. You’re doing fine, better than fine actually. You’re…actually trying. In your own way. And you’re not acting like I could explode at any minute--yeah, I don’t have a great history of being smart, so it would be fair. I can feel you worry, but you also trust me,” he spoke that part in near a whisper, as though he was worried that saying it too loud would startle the truth away, that he couldn’t quite believe it.

“And you’re still acting like yourselves,” he continued. “Foster’s worrying over huge secret things and riddles that no other person in the world would ever have to, and she’s using her big brain to figure it out better than any of us ever could. And Fitz is concerned about everything and pushing me around, letting me make jokes…it’s…it’s nice. Thank you, for being you, I guess. It makes everything else better. Ugh, that was so cheesy,” he cut off, frowning like there was a bad taste in his mouth.

He looked like he was about the backtrack, blinking rapidly, but he didn’t get the chance.

Sohie and Fitz silently wrapped their arms around him in tandem, shifting so they could squeeze him tight, quietly there.

He flinched a little at first, surprised, but then his wings came to wrap around them as he squeezed back, and that’s when his calm started to crumble again.

Shaking beneath their touch, he looked to the ceiling as though that could keep the tears in, his throat working as he tried to suppress whatever he was feeling. The wetness pooling in his eyes couldn’t stay there forever though, and he began to shake as they fell down his cheeks.

Still, they didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say, not as they held each other together in the ruins of what once had been history.

As Keefe cried, the being raised its head too, wrapping itself around the group, nudging at the three of them, exhaling sweet bright smoke between them, wordlessly there too.

“Thanks,” Keefe mumbled between ragged breaths, fingers digging into their skin as he did so, not looking at either of them.

Fitz shook his head, wings stirring behind his as he shifted so he could look at Keefe better. “You don’t need to thank us. This whole situation sucks, especially for you, and that’s not fair. But we’re here, and we always will be--always. It’s what family does.”

Sophie nodded her agreement, and Keefe’s lips curled with the echo of a smile.

“Family, huh,” he whispered, voice raw from unspoken grief. “That’s what we are.”

“If you want us to be,” Sophie said. Family was always a touchy subject for him with how hard he’d worked to distance himself from his own, with how he was always seeing families loving each other in the ways he never was. He’d used the word before, but never with the emphasis, the understanding behind it that everyone else did. It was as though he tiptoed around the word, almost as if he didn’t really believe it.

“Yeah. I do,” he whispered despite everything.

No one spoke for a while after that, the riddle forgotten; it’d been a good distraction, something to get them here, to bring them together--even though Fitz hadn’t a clue what was going on. But now Sophie’s imparter had been tucked back into her pocket as she held these few fragments of her family close.

The being even got in on it, worming its way around so it could stick it’s head in Keefe’s lap--or at least, as much of its head as it could get given its size. Fitz didn’t look too happy about that, but graciously endured its presence--she’d have to ask him what his deal was later, but not now.

Right now, being there for each other was all that mattered.

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

Teleportation could be an incredibly convenient form of near instantaneous transportation, moving from one side of the world to the other with just a little mental energy and direction, but the drastic changes in scenery were absolutely awful at times.

Like right now, as Sophie blinked her eyes furiously, trying not to stumble off the edges of the village and plummet to her death on the mossy forest floor before. She couldn’t see anything, her eyes adjusted for the dark underground rooms of the abandoned facility. Everything burned as the afternoon light seared into her eyes, and she briefly wondered if that’s how her parents felt when they’d gone to the surface to explore the ruins of the everblaze.

Fitz and Keefe were making mutual sounds of pain, discomfort, and surprise behind her, so she could only assume they were in the same situation.

“Can we turn down the sun a little?” Keefe requested in a grumble, wings ruffling behind him.

“Hang on, I got this,” Fitz said in response, and then a shadow spread over her vision, allowing her to open her eyes without immediately needing to close them again.

Fitz had cupped his wings around them, the feathers blocking the light while they adjusted.

Keefe’s joined them a second later, creating a complete circle with Sophie at the center.

“Well now I feel useless,” she commented, wings buzzing behind her to emphasize the statement. Hers made it easy to hide them, to blend in around others, but absolutely ineffective at shielding sunlight--or anything, for that matter.

“Don’t worry Foster, you can pretend to be a part of the circle.”

She sighed in response, shaking her head as they let down their wings, the joke complete, leaving the three of them standing in silence in the middle of the village as though nothing has happened. As though Lady Gisela wasn’t dead and they were still cleaning up, as though they weren’t monsters themselves, as though they hadn’t just solved part of the riddle she’d been given.

Foxfire. She’d have to think about that, figure out how that fit into everything else, if she should focus on that or Phoenix. There was too much to think about--for all of them.

Turning towards Keefe, she was about to ask him if he’d be okay without her or if he still wanted company when he spoke.

“I think…thank you, for the distraction. It stopped me from being overwhelmed. But I think I want to be alone for a while. So I can--I won’t do anything or go off anywhere, I promise. Or if I do I’ll let you know. But I just…” he trailed off, but they knew what he was trying to say.

“Of course,” Fitz said. “If you need either of us, you know how to reach us.” He tapped his temple as he spoke.

Keefe gave a small smile, waving slightly as he turned and walked away back towards his house.

Sophie and Fitz watched him for a moment, dark feathers disappearing in the distance, before glancing at each other, wordlessly communicating their concern, their trust, their resignation to this new future.

“Will you be okay?” Fitz asked suddenly, cocking his head to the side as he stared at her.

Shrugging, she picked at the hem of her skirt. “I think so. You?”

“No clue, but I think…I think he’s got the right idea with some alone time, wouldn’t you agree?” He was glancing back in the direction of his house, body sagging under the weight of such confusing grief.

“I would,” Sophie murmured, nodding along with him. Some time alone to thing would be paradise right now.

But there was something she wanted to do first.

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

Sophie found Biana lounging on her bed, surrounded by that cherry blossom scent that seemed entirely out of place; she hadn’t visited Biana’s house in a while, but she hadn’t had a reason to.

Now she did.

Papers covered every available surface in a semi-organized manner, as though there were piles in the middle of making up their mind on what they wanted to be, the monster book flipped open to a blank page. Space had been cleared from the shelves, plants moved so things could be spread out, as though she’d walked half-way into a murder mystery.

And in the center of it all was Biana, rings of notes spreading out from around her, her body flickering in and out of the light, wings fluttering behind her as the oranges shifted under the sun, matching the orange hair ribbon she’d used to secure back some of the hair sticking to her skin.

“Knock knock,” she said, rapping her knuckles lightly against the door frame; she hadn’t gotten a response when she’d done the same on the main door, but she knew Biana was in here, could see her through the window, could hear her heartbeat, so she’d let herself in.

Biana looked up with a start, dropping a pen she’d been twirling between her fingers, vanishing for a moment before she slowly faded back into visibility. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you; you startled me.”

“My bad,” Sophie said, then glanced around the room, taking in all the pages. It wasn’t unlike Keefe’s room in Alluveterre, which wasn’t exactly comforting. “What…what is all this?”

Biana gave a partial shrug, but her heartbeat increased as she chewed at her lip. “Just a personal project.”

“Oh. Need any help?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Biana said, waving her hand in the air as though waving away all Sophie’s concerns, but her movements were hasty. “Did you need something? Does this have to do with Keefe?”

Sophie hesitated for a moment, shifting her weight as she tugged at the hem of her clothes. “Well…maybe, to the first question. No to the second. I--I realized that I haven’t really checked up on you, which I think I should be doing as your friend. Because a lot has been happening, but that doesn’t make what happened with you any less important, and if you need anything or need to talk, I’m always here.”

Biana blinked, saying nothing for a moment. “I…thank you. I, um, well…now that you bring it up do you…could you…” she trailed off, frowning to herself.

“Could I what?”

“I don’t…I don’t even know how to ask.” Biana’s cheeks flushed and her wings stirred up a breeze behind her, fingers tearing at the edges of the papers next to her.

Sophie hummed for a second, then moved a few other notes scattered around so she could sit on the bed, facing Biana. “Well, whatever it is, I promise I'll answer it the best I can. You don’t have to be embarrassed; I want to help.”

“It’s not--that’s not it. I don’t even know what to ask, there’s so much all the time. There are too many questions I don’t even know where to start or who could possibly have an answer. They just keep--” she cut off, turning to face Sophie fully, leaning forward, eyes darting across her face as her heart hammered, fear tinging the air.

“You…you understand the monsters, don’t you?”

Where was this going? What interest did Biana have in monsters?

“I guess you could call it that. I don’t understand all of them, or know all of them because they’re not all the same. But some of them are…good, and I can hear their thoughts and understand them that way--like I did with Verdi.”

Biana started nodding, tucking her hair behind her ear like she needed something to do with her hands. “Okay. Good. That works. Could you…do they ever…what do you see when you look at them?”

Sophie made a face. “Like…what features? Because that depends on the monster. Some are scaly and some have--”

“No no no, not that. I know you can see them, but--” Biana exhaled, pressing her hands over her face. “What’s it like when you read their minds, how does it work?”

Why did Biana need to know about reading minds?

“Well…I usually get like an image, a memory. They don’t communicate like us or have thoughts the same way we do, so it’ll be like what they’re seeing or thinking about in a visual format, though sometimes it feels like it has a certain color--”

Biana cut her off, leaning forward. “Colors? Do you know what the colors mean?”

Sophie was about to respond, saying she hadn’t figured out what the colors meant or even tried, but that she was sure there was some reasoning to it.

But instead what fell from her mouth was “Where is this coming from? Are you okay?”

The last time she’d asked that, Biana had shrugged it off, smiled confidently, ready to go back into the abandoned facility to find her answers. Now?

“I don’t know. I think--I think I’m losing my mind, Sophie. Everything was fine and then I went back to that facility and I looked and now I can’t stop seeing the colors everywhere.” She cut off then, snapping her mouth shut as her fingers fisted the fabric of her pants. “You’re going to think I’ve lost it. Forget I said anything.”

Sophie shook her head, reaching out to set a hand on top of Biana’s. “No no, it’s okay. You’re talking to me remember? And if something’s happened…” she let the sentence hang, unsure where to end it. This wasn’t like Biana. Biana didn’t lose her cool, didn't cover her room in notes, didn’t think about monsters.

Biana didn’t grip her hair so tightly Sophie worried she’d pull it out as she curled her knees tight to her chest, staring at nothing.

In a hushed voice, she confessed, “I keep seeing these…these flecks of light everywhere, and these…impressions of colors when I look at the monsters. Like an aura. But I don’t know what it means and I can’t get them to go away! And when I look at them, my mind stops working. I stop thinking. It’s just colors, just images and pretty lights and colors, no words.

“I think…I think I’m forgetting how to be an elf.”

[dwellordream]

“Eleanor experienced almost fifteen years of regular childbearing after marrying Henry Plantagenet. It was during her early years as queen, while she was bearing a child almost annually, that she was busiest acting as Henry’s regent in England. She would give Henry II nine children within thirteen years. If Eleanor of Aquitaine was a distant figure as mother to her children, so were other aristocratic mothers responsible for supervising complex households. As queen, she had even less time than most for child-rearing. Contact with her children would have been limited while they were growing up. 

This was due to circumstances and social custom, not to a lack of maternal feeling, and it is not necessary to conclude that Eleanor was indifferent toward her young children nor that she made little “psychological investment” in them. There is no evidence to show that she and Henry failed to cherish their children, to provide for their care, to place their hopes in their futures, or to experience grief at their deaths. It seems fruitless from a distance of eight centuries to calculate Eleanor’s role in shaping her children’s adult psyches, when thinking on the topic is still influenced by nineteenth-century bourgeois models modified by twentieth-century Freudian psychology. 

Yet one fact that stands out is the devotion to Eleanor demonstrated by her sons in their adult lives, and it testifies that their experience of her love was more powerful than their father’s fitful affection. Clearly, the queen had cemented solid ties of affection with them at some point, whether during their infancy or adolescence; and strong maternal feelings would prod her to furious activity after Henry II’s death, struggling to assist first Richard and then John in securing their thrones. As one writer observes, “It is difficult to believe that the devotion shown [Eleanor] by her adult sons and daughters did not grow out of childhood experience, experience that simply left no record in the account books and annals of the court.”

Possibly Henry’s difficulties with his sons were caused by their early and prolonged separations from their father. The fact that they were near-strangers to one another, in some years together only on great festive occasions, can explain in part the ease with which they took up arms against their father and against each other. Along with all medieval mothers, Eleanor was unaware of the significance of earliest childhood for shaping adult personality that modern psychology teaches. The early Fathers of the Church had not shown great interest in questions centering on family life, and twelfth-century churchmen with their ambivalent feelings about women provided mothers with little more direction in carrying out their maternal responsibilities. 

Although concern for the care of children was growing in the twelfth century, encouraged in great part by Christian teaching, spiritual counselors offered mothers little counsel beyond advocating emulation of the Virgin Mary, the ideal mother. An exception to the dearth of literature on motherhood is a biography of Queen Margaret of Scotland, written in the first years of the twelfth century as a guide for her daughter Edith-Matilda, Henry I’s queen. It praises Margaret as a model mother, intimately involved with her children’s upbringing; yet the daughter who commissioned it hardly knew her mother, having been sent away at age six to be brought up at an English convent where her aunt was abbess.

Like many other great ladies living in the twelfth century, Eleanor had larger duties in politics and government that she regarded as equally important and perhaps greater than her responsibility for her children’s upbringing. In Henry and Eleanor’s household were retainers of many ranks, ranging from dependent relatives and high-ranking nobles to simple knights or domestic servants of peasant origin, any of whom could be charged with caring for the royal children. As a result, the royal children’s ties of affection would not have been focused uniquely on their parents, but diffused among household members of many ranks. 

While differing from typical nuclear families today, the medieval English royal household, overflowing with servants and retainers, had much in common with other medieval aristocratic families. Like them and like European aristocrats or American plutocrats even in the twenty-first century who turn their children over to a series of servants, Eleanor and Henry did not think it unnatural to hand their children into the care of others in the royal household, or even to custodians far from court. Sons and daughters were often sent away at early ages, daughters to be reared in the households of their betrothed and sons given over to the care of others until early adolescence, when they were established in households of their own. 

Yet these practices do not negate royal parents’ caring instincts or an awareness of the uniqueness of childhood that is innate in all societies. It is clear that Eleanor and Henry showed great concern for the upbringing of their offspring, choosing with care the personnel who were to supervise them even if their personal participation was limited. The rapidity with which Eleanor gave birth shows that she did not nurse her infant children, for it was uncommon for great ladies to nurse their own babies. As queen, her chief responsibility was ensuring continuity of the royal line by bearing children, not rearing them, and it was widely known that breast-feeding inhibited pregnancy. 

Names of some of the royal children’s wet-nurses survive, and they indicate that they were selected from women of free, not servile, status, probably from wives of servants in the royal household. Alexander of Neckham, a scientific writer, Oxford master, and later abbot of Cirencester, proudly claimed that he and Richard Lionheart were “milk-brothers,” for his mother had been the prince’s wet-nurse. Eleanor felt so fondly toward Agatha, one of her children’s wet-nurses, that in 1198, three decades after her child-bearing years, she rewarded her service with a gift of land in Hertfordshire and a year later a more valuable gift, a Devonshire manor. 

Agatha was a woman whose ambition Eleanor could admire, and such generous gifts would have made her former servant a woman of some means. Some time, probably before becoming John’s wet-nurse, Agatha entered into a long-term relationship with Godfrey de Lucy, son of the chief justiciar and himself a royal clerk who would win the bishopric of Winchester in 1189 despite being encumbered with a “wife.” Wet-nurses of Eleanor’s children must have resembled nannies in their relations with their charges, providing not only nourishment, but also affection and companionship and remaining with them long after weaning. 

After John was brought to England during the great rebellion of 1173–74, the pipe roll records a grant of ten marks to “the nurse of the king’s son,” although he was at least seven years old then. The wet-nurses of Richard Lionheart and John earned their fond feeling, and their affection was returned. When Richard became king, he granted a pension to his nurse, Hodierna. After John’s death, his former nurse Agatha, by then a prosperous widow, remembered him and his son when making a gift of land to the nuns of Flamstead “for the soul of King Henry [III] son of King John.”

When Henry II’s sons were little more than infants, each of them was assigned a “master” or “preceptor” from among members of the royal household. He was assigned responsibility for the young boy, charged with spending on his needs and supervising the servants caring for him. He was not necessarily a cleric, and he did not give lessons; teachers—also called masters—could be recruited from the clerks and chaplains present in any great household. Choosing such a master was Henry’s duty, for noble fathers made major decisions about their sons’ upbringing, although he was likely to have discussed his selection with Eleanor. 

A master named Mainard took charge of Young Henry in 1156 when the boy was only a year old, and he remained with him for at least three more years. The division of authority between this official and the child’s mother is unknown, but it must have meant that Eleanor was denied full responsibility for her son’s care, even in early childhood. Forced to share responsibility for her young sons with a male named by her husband, she nevertheless succeeded at some point in their youths in knitting the affective bonds normally binding sons to their mothers. 

In 1159, when Young Henry was only four years old, his father placed him in the household of his chancellor Thomas Becket, where sons of nobles were “educated in gentlemanly upbringing and teaching.” There was precedent for Henry’s sending his heir away at such an early age: William the Conqueror had placed his second son, William Rufus, the designated heir to the English Crown, in Archbishop Lanfranc’s household. Henry II may already have been thinking of naming Becket his archbishop of Canterbury and having his eldest son crowned as king while still a boy. 

When relations between Henry and Archbishop Becket began to cool, Henry, in October 1163, rebuked his newly installed primate by removing Young Henry from his custody. When the king left for his French territories the next month, he did not send the boy, then about eight years of age, back to Eleanor; instead, he continued to live apart from his mother’s household with a new master, William fitz John, a royal administrator. Young aristocrats were knighted as part of their initiation into manhood, and fathers would find them a mentor to join their household: an older, experienced knight who could prepare them for knighthood with training in the noble occupations of hunting, hawking, and warfare. 

After Young Henry’s coronation in 1170, his father assigned such a mentor to the fifteen-year-old youth, the knight-errant William Marshal, much admired for chivalry, but an illiterate with little interest in administration. According to the History of William Marshal, he served as the sort of companion-guide who accompanied heroes of the romances, charged with the Young King’s instruction in courtesy and martial arts, preparing him to take up arms as a knight. Hunting sharpened warrior skills, and all of Henry and Eleanor’s sons shared their ancestors’ love for the chase. 

Richard during his youth in Poitou would find pleasure in hunting in his mother’s ancestral forests in the Vendée. Roger of Howden wrote of Henry II’s sons, “They strove to outdo others in handling weapons. They realized that without practice the art of war did not come naturally when it was needed.” Sons of royalty needed to know more than skill in handling horses and weapons, and at twelfth-century princely courts, clerics were advocating a courtly ideal of conduct, challenging old-fashioned knights upholding the traditional warrior ethos of the knightly class. 

The counts of Anjou had long prized learning in Latin letters, seen in the excellent schooling that Henry II’s father provided for him, and Eleanor too knew the value of learning. While less is known about Henry’s sons’ formal education than his own, it is certain that they acquired a sound grounding in Latin grammar, although no formal office of royal schoolmaster yet existed at the English court. A letter in the archbishop of Rouen’s name, addressed to the king when Young Henry was only ten years old, however, expresses a fear that the knightly side of the future king’s education was taking precedence over study of the liberal arts.

Perhaps the concern stemmed from Henry’s removal of his heir from Thomas Becket’s custody, and it hints at rivalry between the boy’s clerical and knightly tutors over the two groups’ diverging values. Richard Lionheart knew Latin well, although he is better known for his French verses. Gerald of Wales’s anecdote of the Lionheart’s correcting the Latin spoken by his archbishop of Canterbury gives evidence of his competence as a Latinist. John gained an interest in literature during his youth, and as king he built up a considerable library of classics and religious works. He deposited his books at Reading Abbey for safekeeping and sometimes wrote to the abbot requesting that certain volumes be sent to him.

Although great ladies had responsibility for their sons’ upbringing only until they reached their sixth or seventh year, aristocratic daughters could remain in their mother’s care until adolescence, unless they were betrothed as pre-adolescents and sent away to be brought up by their future in-laws. Like other queens throughout the Middle Ages, Eleanor saw her daughters affianced at early ages to foreign princes chosen for political considerations, and promptly sent far away to grow up at foreign courts. Personal contact by Eleanor with her daughters was difficult once they were sent off to their future husbands’ lands in Germany, Spain, and Sicily, and she had little prospect of seeing them again. 

Yet contacts between royal daughters and their birth-parents were seldom entirely severed, and Eleanor doubtless corresponded with her daughters, although no copies of her letters survive. Royal parents maintained contact with daughters married to foreign princes, for their marriages had been arranged for the purpose of serving the family interest, creating or securing alliances. Matilda, Eleanor, and Joanne, married to princes who were conspicuous as cultural patrons, were almost certainly literate. 

Late twelfth-century romances depict noble maidens learning their letters, and a renowned preacher, Adam of Perseigne (d.c. 1208), sent the countess of Chartres Latin texts that she could give to her daughters to read with the help of her chaplain or a learned nun. Although instruction in letters must have begun before Eleanor’s daughters left the English royal household, the major portion of their education would have taken place at the courts of their in-laws.”

- Ralph V. Turner, “Once More a Queen and Mother: England, 1154–1168.” in Eleanor of Aquitaine: Queen of France, Queen of England

[astrababyy]

astrababyy’s Blog

Hey, I’m astrababyy! I also go by Christy if that’s what you’d like to call me instead. This is just me clarifying a few things, linking you guys to some stuff, etc. etc. (This will continue to be edited as my blog changes fyi)

Ps. I reblog stuff a lot. I reblog stuff nearly as much as I like them so you’ll see a lot of that. If you only want to see my content, I am working on putting an astrababyy tag on every single post I’ve made so you can click on that tag to see just that if you’d like.

Opinions

I share a lot of my own opinions on this blog. It’s nothing inappropriate, not in my opinion anyway. I don’t really know what others deem inappropriate. I’m willing to argue my side, but I will not tolerate any hate towards myself or anyone agreeing with me.

This blog is kind of my safe space to share the opinions I have in stories that no one else (or at least, not many people) have. Many of my opinions can be considered unfavorable and unpopular but you can’t have it all, can you?

What’s On My Blog?

As I’ve said in the last two paragraphs, my blog has many of my own opinions on it. It also includes things I reblog (and I reblog a lot), photos, art, edits, random thoughts, sometimes quotes, criticism, etc.

Again, I reblog a lot. A good majority of the posts I liked are also reblogged so it’s hard to sift through that on my account to find my own content. If you’d rather look through just my content, you can search for the tag: #astrababyy on my account. All my posts are tagged with it.

Fandoms

Riordanverse

A Court of Thorns and Roses

Marvel

Charmed

Harry Potter

Keeper of the Lost Cities

Disney

Grishaverse

Teen Wolf

Supernatural

The Vampire Diaries

Warnings

You will most definitely see unpopular opinions I have on this blog. And yes, I do have a lot of them. There are many I’m too scared to share in fear of facing the wrath of whatever fandom that opinion belongs to so you guys don’t even see the half of it lmao.

Other Accounts

Ao3: astrababyy

Ff.net: astrababyy

Wattpad: astrababyy

Masterlist

Just to let y’all know: I don’t actually know what a Masterlist is. I just assumed it’s a compilation of stuff so that’s what I’m using it as.

Popular Posts

PJO

Zeus Appreciation Post

You Know What I Wanted To See in Blood Of Olympus?

If Percy Had Fallen Into Tartarus Alone - Part One

Percy Always Had To Prove Himself

KOTLC

What Are The Limits Of A Polygot’s Abilities?

The Wonders of Humanity vs. the Lost Cities

Fitz Was Justified In His Anger In Legacy

ACOTAR

Tamlin doesn’t owe the IC anything

My Main Issue With The Inner Circle Stealing From The Summer Court

The Illyrians have it really rough

The IC literally want the Spring Court to be rebuilt just so they can drag them into another conflict

Nesta gets this weirdly obsessive hate from a large portion of the fandom when other characters have done WAY worse

The High Lord Meeting was embarrassing for everyone involved

Nesta not wanting to train should not kick up as much of a fuss as it does

The potential tragedy of Tarquin’s story

Tamlin’s “true nature” isn’t revealed because of Spring’s collapse

The IC’s existence steals the nuance from ACOTAR

HP

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them Unpopular Opinion

Writing Pieces, Fanfics, and Original Work

Warning: Some of these don’t have chapters posted yet but will have chapters posted in the near future.

Of Immortals and Monsters

Persephone Jackson was a hidden demigod who’d grown up with her mom and step-dad in their little apartment in Manhattan, New York. That is, until her mom is abducted by Kronos, and she’s forced to make a deal with him to either retrieve the weapons of the Big Three or face death alongside her mother’s.

Sorting through the enigmatic Olympian Court while struggling to keep her true identity a secret, Percy has to find a way to steal all three weapons while not getting attached to the beautiful world that she could’ve been a part of.

selcouth

A no-name witch was brought to St. Mungo's in need of healing. Without any means to identify her or find her guardians, they used a spell that would tell them whatever House she belonged to and contact the Head.

So there Lord Fleamont Potter sat, utterly confused as to who this mysterious witch was and why the healers of St. Mungo's were all swearing up and down that she was his relative.

River Flows

The war ended when Harry was 21 and with more carnage than they'd ever anticipated. Mourning, vulnerable, and heartbroken, Harry Potter accepts the chance to travel to an alternate dimension that resides right next to his own where the First Wizarding War ended on a much more positive note than it had for him.

Three Years Later

When a massive conflict emerges among the Greeks with Percy at its center, he leaves for Hawai’i, a state ruled by a completely different pantheon. For three years, Percy doesn’t lay a foot on Greek territory and remains unspoken for the entire time.

Of course, things become more complicated when after these three years, the new threat of Gaea arises and the Greeks need all the help they can get if they expect to win this war.

To Break A Bond

In a world where everyone gets their soulmate’s name on their body when they turn eighteen, Percy Jackson has the sun god Apollo. With her father’s blessing, she ventures on a quest to have the bond broken, but as lines blur between her and her soulmate and the gods begin to grow more suspicious, Percy has to decide if she’s willing to give Apollo a chance or if she’ll break their soul bond, binding them both to an eternity without true love.

My Mom Is Dating A Superhero

“Steve,” Percy muttered in dumbfounded realization. He spared a cursory glance at ‘Steve’. “From... Brooklyn.” Mom nodded, smiling hesitantly at Percy. “As in- as in Steve Rogers from Brooklyn?”

Struggling to transition after coming out of the ice, Steve meets and befriends a journalist named Sally Jackson. As the two grow closer, Steve becomes more and more entrenched in her and her son’s chaotic world. With the messy lives of the Jacksons and Steve Rogers becoming intertwined, they drag two very dangerous worlds that were never meant to mix right down with them.

[chloristoflora]

Web spoke quietly, his voice deep. "I stand amazed. That is a bit of Old Blood magic I thought was lost to us. I saw that kind of healing done on animals a few times when I was a lad, before old Bendry died in the Red Ship War. But I've never seen it used that way on a man, nor so smoothly. Who taught you? Where have you been all these years?"

"I don't use Beast Magic," Burrich said emphatically.

"I know what I just saw," Web replied implacably. "Call it by any dirty name you like. You're a master of it, in a way that is near lost to us. Who taught you, and why have not you passed on the teaching?"

"No one taught me anything. Get out. And stay away from Swift." There was dark threat in Burrich's words, and almost fear.

Web remained calm. "I'll leave, for I think Fitz needs quiet, and a time for private speech with you. But I'll not let your son walk in ignorance. He gets his magic from you. You should have taught him your skills with it."

"My father has the Wit?" Swift looked shocked to his core.

"It all makes sense now," Web said quietly. He leaned toward Burrich, looking at him in a way that went beyond the touch of eyes. "The Stablemaster. And a master in the Wit, as well. How many creatures can speak to you? Dogs? Horses? What else? Where did you come from, why have you hidden yourself?"

"Get out!" Burrich flared.

"How could you?" Swift demanded, suddenly in tears. "How could you make me feel so dirty and low, when it came from you, when you had it, too? I'll never forgive you. Never!"

"I don't need your forgiveness," Burrich said flatly. "Only your obedience, and I'll take that if I have to. Now both of you, out. I've work to do and you're in my way."

The boy set down the teapot blindly and stumbled from the tent. I could hear the sobs that wracked him as he ran off into the night.

Web rose more slowly, setting the kettle of soup down carefully. "I'll go, man. Now isn't our time. But our time to talk is going to come, and you'll hear me out, even if we must come to blows first." Then he turned to me. "Good night, Fitz. I'm glad you're not dead. I mourn that Lord Golden did not return with you."

"You know who he is?" The words were torn from Burrich.

"Yes. I do. And by him, I know who you are. And I know who used the Wit to pull him back from death and raise him from the grave. And so do you." Web left on those words, letting the tent flap fall behind him.

Fool's Fate, by Robin Hobb (Tawny Man Trilogy #3)