#moon ring or winter halo

[plumes-merry-critters]

Tonight's bright moon and her halo

[bakaklava]

[astra-ravana]

A Selection of Weather Magick

Whistling Up a Wind

Whistling up a wind is one of the most common forms of weather magick and has been practiced for hundreds of years. Depending on the pitch and tone of whistle, a witch can create a gentle breeze or a sharp gust of wind. You can physically whistle with your lips, use a wind whistle or even a glass bottle. The tone, pitch, and length of the whistle you make determines the type of wind you will get. For example, a low pitched whistle will form a light breeze and a short, sharp, piercing whistle will form a huge gust of wind

A Storm is Likely to Come When

• Deciduous trees flip their leaves due to wind direction

• Birds fly low in the sky and go quiet

• There's a Southerly wind

• There's red dawn in the East

• Layers of nimbus clouds move in opposite directions

• The morning grass is dry of dew

• An earthy scent rises from the soil and flowers

• Pine cones remain closed

• A halo rings the moon at night

• Nights are warm in Winter (cloud cover insulation)

• Smoke swirls and descends instead of rising steadily.

Storm Casting

Storm casting is the art of creating storms through magick. There are many different methods for casting storms ans bringing rain. One method is to fill a jug with water and while sitting outside (or facing an open window) pour the water into a basin or bowl. Dip the tip of your finger in the water (you can also use a pendulum/necklace) and make five slow, clockwise circles in the water. As you are making the circles call the wind to bring in a storm by blowing or whistling a continuous low note, like wind over the mouth of a glass bottle, over the basin.

Untie the Wind

Sailors used to buy knotted cords from witches. When the knots were untied the wind would pick up. The more knots untied the more wind there would be. This can still be applied today using one's breath or the wind itself. On a windy day take yourself to a high place where the wind blows strongly. Take a red cord with you, to be knotted in three places. Focus on the wind and when you feel connected to it, begin tying it into knots. Left side first, then right, and the last knot center. Accompany your actions with a charm such as,

"Each knot I make, and then untie,

Will stir the wind, to fill the sky".

Keep the cord in a high place and when you want to summon a wind, simply untie the knots in reverse order. Chant:

"This knot is untied, so the cord is free,

As the cord is freed, the winds shall be".

For a strong gale untie all three knots.

Stopping a Storm

Dispersing: This method involves spreading the storm out over a large area, there by minimizing its effects. You can disperse a storm by calling winds to blow it away (or in a certain direction).

Binding: This method is called 'storm catching' and involves catching a storm and binding it with an object (usually a bottle) so it can be released gradually at a later date.

Storm Water

One of the easiest forms of weather magick is to collect storm water (also called thunder water). Set a bowl or vessel outside during a thunderstorm. You're not just collecting water, you're also collecting the potent energy in the atmosphere. The thunder, lightning, and pressure all charge the water with extra energy. When the storm is over bottle and keep for spellwork, anointing, and more.

Ancient Latin Wind Invocation

Stand outside and say the following:

"Venire ventus venire, sinere solus sentire relaxari, venire nunc nunc venire venire venire venire"

Ancient Latin Rain Spell

Look up to the sky and say:

"Elementum recolligo huie commodo locus mini vestri vox Elementum ego unda dico vos Permissum pluit es est meus nos sic vadum is existo"

Meteorological Symbols

• Can be used as sigils

• Use for weather summoning

• Can substitute a certain weather condition required as a spell component

Herbs, Trees, and Plants used in Weather Magick

Alder: Raises winds, commonly turned into wind whistles

Broom: Thrown into fire to calm winds, thrown in the air to raise winds

Cotton: Thrown into fire to bring rain

Ferns: Thrown into fire to bring rain

Garlic: Warn to ward off bad weather

Heather: Thrown into fire to bring rain

Henbane: Thrown into water to bring rain

Oak/Acorn: Protects against lightning strikes and bad weather

Pansy: Brings rain and storms, if picked on a sunny day brings storms but if picked early in the morning while covered with dew brings rain

Rice/Grain/Wheat: Thrown into the air to bring rain

Saffron: Raises winds, assists with control of the weather

Thistle: Thrown into fire to redirect lighting

"There are some things you can only learn in a storm."

[violetlunette]

Runaway Chapter 10: Phantom

Summary: After searching for so long Lilia finally finds Silver. But is it too late?

Previous Chapter

Master List

Ao3

Notes: *Twst spoilers for Chapter/Book 7

Lilia continued the search. Yet, while the vines became thicker, there was still no sigh of the rumored specter nor a clue to confirm that his son was here. Lilia was starting to lose hope.

‘Did I choose the wrong place?’ He growled as he clutched the ring around his neck.

“Argh, fuck! Stupid piece of shit!” he cursed, using his other arm to swipe at his tearing eyes. It served Lilia right, though. What was he thinking following a dumb--

“Urk!”

Lilia was nearly choked as the chain suddenly yanked him forward by the throat. He was so surprised that he ended up tripping down the large hill.

“FuuuhhhAhhAhahAhhh!” His cries went up and down as Lilia rolled.

Crash!

WHAM!

Lilia's body hit a large boulder at the bottom of the hill.

Upside down, the world continued to spin around him as the fae's mouth, bones, and muscles all groaned.

“Ughhh! Of course!” it was just Lilia’s luck, wasn’t it? Shit, was all this bad luck that Leprechaun king’s way of getting revenge for tricking him that one time 300 years ago? Cause if so--

Whoooosh~

The area turned gray, layered by a strange mist that slowly filled the air. Around Lilia, the vines began to move like snakes  cricking  and  cracking  as they did so.

“ Ah, ah, ahh, ahhh, ahhhhhhh~... ”

The notes of a song drifted overhead and fell like raindrops. A song that was both strange and familiar...

It tugged at Lilia’s heart, springing tears to his eyes as his breath caught in his throat. Then he remembered.

It was one of the songs he used to hum to Silver when the lad was a baby, to calm him after a terrible nightmare.

A song he nearly had forgotten…

A shadow fell.

Then he saw it.

Lilia’s gaze widened in horror.

“It can’t be…” Above him was a  phantom .

Despite living long, Lilia didn’t have an extensive experience with Phantoms. Though recently they had become more frequent, for a long time, they were rare.

Yet, despite his lack of knowledge, Lilia felt confident in saying that no Phantom was as beautiful as this one.

Its form was that of a Princess in sorrowful blue, floating upon a swirl of black mist. Like all Phantoms, it had an ink bottle for a head. This bottle was in the shape of a heart with a green light glinting off the glass. Atop the odd head, it wore a tarnished crown. It reminded Lilia of the ring that led him here. Yet what gave the Phantom its true beauty was its golden halo of hair. It hung in ringlets around the Phantom’s doll-like frame. Despite the green glow around the specter, it gave off no light, only a nimbus of darkness. 

It sang a haunting tune like an old music box created to lull a child to sleep.

What held Lilia’s attention, however, was the figure she carried between delicate arms.

The man’s mouth fell agape, eyes growing twice their size as his brows pulled inward. His body began to tremble as the cold of winter plunged down his spine.

Through quivering lips, he muttered, “It can’t be... Silver! ”

Ink smeared across skin pale as the grave. The black streamed from closed eyes like tears, making it seem as if he were a boy crying in his sleep. The silver hair, for which he named, lost its moon-like shine and had become a dull gray, frayed like cobwebs. But none of that was what lit the terror that made Lilia’s old muscles turn to stone, nor made his heart stop dead as if shot with a bullet or turn his blood to ice. What did that was the blade. Said blade stabbed through Silver’s heart. The sword also pierced the Phantom, pinning him to its breast. The Phantom stroked the teen’s hair like a child, singing her lullaby. Lilia felt his mouth dry as he whispered, “It can’t be…” He then cartwheeled himself upright, turning as pale as the moon as his irises nearly vanished. His breath began uneven as he began muttering to himself, “No…It can’t…Please, no...” The chant became more and more desperate till it became a prayer. Mentally, he begged his mind to tell him his eyes were playing tricks. That it was all an illusion or a bad dream. Otherwise, the reality would be that his son was dead and that—that thing was cuddling his corpse like a doll. ‘No…’ he told himself. Lilia forced his panic back, and his rational side took over. ‘Silver could still be alive, just under an enchantment. Or could that…’ Could be his Overblot? It was difficult to see as the Phantom and the blade blocked most of his form. Regardless, Lilia knew his first step; freeing Silver from-- The Phantom turned an eyeless gaze upon him. Lilia crouched, clenching his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering from the chill going through his bones. Watching the foe closely, his hand moved to his clever, ready to pull and fight when-- It vanished.

Lilia blinked. He blinked again. Once more to be sure. Then his mouth dropped open.

“Huh? What...no...No!” Confusion turned to horror.

Silver was right there.  He was right there!  Dead or alive, Silver was right there before Lilia! And now he was gone!  Again!

“Silver! Silver!” Lilia ran to the spot where the Phantom had disappeared, swallowed by the mist of the late noon.

“Come on, come on, come on!!” Frustration filled the fae as he clawed through the mist as if the action would reveal his lost son.

Alas...

“Augh!”

The anguished cry tore from his throat as the father fell to his knees.

S L A M !

He pounded a fist into the dry soil as his legs hit the ground. “FUCK!”

As the man's fingers dug into the dirt, a few tear drops escaped his eyes, his body shaking from frustration.

He was so close!  He was so close,  and yet—and yet…

Hick, sob, hick…

Lilia slumped forward, over weighed by grief.

“F--fuck...”

~*~

Once he regained himself, Lilia called Idia. Well, sort of.

He called Sebek, who took the phone to Idia, apparently breaking his door down to do so. The other was not at all pleased.

“Sorry about that!” Lilia apologized, cutting short the complaints. Had he not been so emotionally exhausted, Lilia would have laughed or found some amusement in the situation. “But I had something I really needed to ask.”

Lilia then went on to explain the appearance of the Phantom and its odd actions. Lilia wasn’t familiar with Phantoms, but he knew them to be aggressive. Silver’s Phantom, on the other hand, took one look at him before fleeing.

Idia sighed sadly.

“So, even Silver…” he mumbled. He trailed off before returning to the topic.

“It’s rare, but it’s not, like, unheard of for Phantoms not to attack,” Idia explained. “There are some who are, well, cowards and will choose to run instead. From what we can figure, it depends on how the person who blots over handles stress.

“Like, Riddle has a temper, so when he's pissed, he lashes out at everybody.” Lilia heard the story of Riddle’s blot from Carter and how it acted like a large child throwing a tantrum. Even Malleus’ Phantom had lasted out like a beast in pure rage. But Silver wasn’t like that.

Yes, the teen got mad and upset. He would occasionally yell as well, as rare as it happened. But when he was truly upset to the point his heart broke he ran.

‘Just like when he found out we weren’t related…’ Lilia closed his eyes as he recalled the memory and the child’s broken expression.

“ So… you’re not my father?”  Lilia had been so stunned not by the question but by the torment on Silver’s face as the words were muttered through trembling lips.

Lilia flinched as a metaphorical dagger pierced his soul. That same anguish was on his face in the dream world, his body shaking like it had as a child.

“ Father… I—I…”  Lilia’s heart broke.

‘Oh, Silver…’ After everything that happened, it was no surprise that Silver was distraught to the point where he must have felt like he was drowning. However, it took more than an emotional state to blot everyone over.

The teenager would have had to have used a lot of magic. The broom ride would have been tiring but not enough—

Then Lilia realized; ‘Meet in a Dream.’ Silver Unique magic.

Silver used that spell for who knows how long to save everyone. He also took travelers with him to several dreams. So, even though his body was resting, it must have taken a toll on his mental state and mana. And then with everything he had discovered and gone through…

A knot twisted in his stomach as his chest became heavy.

‘The reason Silver blotted over was…’ Because of him. Because Silver wanted to save everyone from his mistakes--

Lila’s grip shook till he tightened it on his phone.

“Then what about the Phantom in this case?” he asked Idia, keeping his voice firm. “Are you saying it’s not dangerous?” It wasn’t Idia’s voice he heard next.

“Well?! Answer him!”

“Eep! Stop shaking me!” Ah. Lilia forgot Sebek was there. From what he could hear, Sebek had become quite emotional about Silver’s state. Knowing Sebek, Lilia was surprised Sebek held back this long.

“Sebek, control yourself,” Lilia ordered. “Idia; is the Phantom dangerous?” There was an exasperated groan from the other side as Idia attempted to pull himself together.

“Uggghhh...Diasomnia...can’t deal…” He took another moment to compose, but Sebek barked something, and Idia jumped into his answer finally.

“Eep! Kinda?!” He (and Lilia) made Sebek back off before going into more detail. “They’re usually pretty harmless till cornered. Then they lash out like a trapped rat, ya know?” Then the Shroud sighed heavily as if something heavy was dropped on him.“The real issue is that while it's running the life is still being drained from its host.” Lilia’s skin nearly went transparent.

‘ Shit! ’ He forgot that. He forgot that a phantom drained its host of their life force.

Which meant that even if Silver was alive now--

“You mean… Silver’s going to die?” Sebek’s question turned the whole world static. He didn’t even hear Idia’s response.

Die, die, Silver? His Silver? His son? No! No, no, no!

“Hey, Lila? Ortho’s contacted STYX officers. They’re sending over a troop. It would--” Lilia hung up, his heart racing in his ears as he started running.

His jaw clenched as he breathed hard through his nose, his eyes growing wild. He didn’t know what would happen from here on out, but he knew this;

Silver was NOT going to die!

--

Next chapter

[ltwilliammowett]

Sailor's weather superstition

Of course superstition doesn't stop here either and to be clear it's only a thing with sailors but also with farmers and so on. But here are a few:

A ring around the sun or moon, means that rain will come real soon

If you see a halo around the moon on a clear night, it could be an indication of bad weather. This is not a spooky prediction, but quite banal science. Although it looks like a ghostly ring, it is really just the light of the moon refracted (or bent) by ice crystals. These ice crystals form the cirrus clouds - the tuft-like clouds we find high up in the sky. These cirrus clouds don't cause rain or storms, but here's the thing: they precede some low pressure areas by a day or two, and low pressure areas bring precipitation.

(x)

In other words: If you see these ice clouds refracting the light around the moon, it means that cirrus clouds are present, which could indicate a coming storm. also goes with the sun, but please don't look in there, it's not good for your eyes.

Mackerel sky, not 24 hours dry

A mackerel sky looks like a sky full of fish scales. These are cirrocumulus or altocumulus clouds formed by atmospheric waves at high altitudes.  As these high clouds gradually penetrate the sky and the air pressure begins to drop, precipitation associated with the disturbance can be expected in about 6 to 12 hours.

(x)

A thickening and lowering of cirrocumulus to altostratus or altocumulus in the middle tier is a good sign that the warm or low pressure front has moved closer and rain may begin to fall within less than six hours.

Clear moon, frost soon

Well, that's what they say about clear nights in winter, clear moon, frost soon. And we can be sure to expect a cool morning. This is not untrue, because if there are no clouds, the heat that has been collected during the day can escape from the earth's surface through the non-existent cloud cover and can therefore cause frost in autumn and winter.

Red at morning, Sailors warning; Red at night, Sailors delight

Since I have already made a separate post on this, please forgive me for only attaching the link. https://www.tumblr.com/ltwilliammowett/670757025738866688/red-at-morning-sailors-warning-red-at-night?source=share

Hair curls at high humidity

Human hair is extremely sensitive to changes in humidity. There are even hygrometers that use human hair as a measuring instrument. Your hair can absorb water from the air through hydrogen bonds. Since humid air contains more moisture, a strand of hair can form more hydrogen bonds and you suddenly look like Curly Sue - of course not, but your hair can frizz.

Feeling a storm in your bones

Oh, every old slat is there, and will certainly stand on deck all the time and tell you from their aching bones and joints that the weather is going to be bad. Well, some people are sensitive to the weather and rheumatics and people with arthritis often react more sensitively to temperature and weather fluctuations (I can tell you a thing or two about that). This is because their body fluids are in a constant equilibrium with the ambient air pressure. So when the barometer drops - like an approaching storm - your tissues can swell, irritating nerve endings and causing you additional pain. However, not everyone is like this and therefore rheumatics are not to be used as living barometers.

Thermometer cricket

No thermometer on board for once ? No problem, grab a cricket, preferably the ecanthus fultoni, aka the thermometer cricket.

(x)

Because as soon as the temperature rises, the animal chrips much faster, when it drops, it's the other way round. But not only that, you can even determine the temperature exactly. The chirp rate is counted in the time of 13 seconds and then the number 40 is added. This value corresponds almost exactly to the temperature in Fahrenheit.

[kimberly40]

The following are some Natural Signs of a Rough Winter that have been collected over the years:

* Very thick onion skins or corn husks

* Woodpeckers sharing a tree

* Early arrival of crickets on the hearth

* Spiders spinning larger than usual webs

* Lots of acorns

* A small rust/orange band on a wooly worm caterpillar

* Trees are laden with green leaves late in the fall.

* Hickory nuts having heavy shells

* Tree bark is heaviest on the north side of the tree.

* Crickets are in the chimney.

* Hoot owls call late into the fall.

* Raccoons have thick tails and bright bands

* Squirrels gathering nuts early in the year

* Pigs gathering sticks

* Frequent halos/rings around the sun or moon

(From the Farmers Almanac)

*Pictured is the Mile High Bridge in Avery County, North Carolina by Wildwood Blessings Photography, 2022

[kitsune024]

|| Top Fics I love ||

Fandoms with short list ||Pt 1||

Winter Soldier || Bucky Fics ||Pt 2||

Loki Fics ||Pt 3||

Star Wars ||Pt 4||

Danny Phantom ||Pt 5||

SPN || Dean Winchester ||Pt 6||

Atla || Zuko ||Pt7||

📖 📖 📖 📖 📖 📖 📖 📖 📖

Naruto 

Naruto x Code Geass Naruto x Teen Titans                  

MHA || Bakugou Katsuki fics

MHA x Jujutsu Kaisen MHA x MCU MHA x Rurouni Kenshin

Fma/Fmab || Edward Elric

Fma/Fmab x Harry Potter

Fma/Fmab x MHA

Jujutsu Kaisen

Blue Exorcist

Attack on Titan

Attack on Titan x DC

InuYasha

Gintama FFN

Death Note

Tokyo Ghoul & The Avengers FFN

Danny Phantom 

Dp x Dc Dp x Mcu Dp x Puss in Boots

Atla || Zuko Fics

Invader Zim

Encanto || Bruno fics

Encanto x Centaurworld

Star Wars || Anakin Skywalker

The Mandalorian Cal Kestis Star Wars x Mcu

RotG || Jack Frost

ROTG x HTTYD

Puss in Boots || Death the Wolf fics

Tangled / Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure

Pocahontas

CoN || Edmund Pevensie

Kung Fu Panda

Toy Story

Pirates of the Caribbean

SPN || Dean Winchester

SPN x MCU SPN x Hannibal SPN x The Walking Dead

The Umbrella Academy || Five

TUA x The Walking Dead TUA x Doctor Who

Game of Thrones || Jon Snow

Loki Fics

Loki x Frozen

Bucky || Winter Soldier fics

Stucky WinterFrost IronFrost WinterIron

Jason Todd || Red Hood fics

Jason Todd||Red Hood x SPN Jason Todd||Red Hood x Star Wars

Lucifer fics

Lucifer x MCU

Clark Kent II Superman Fics

Clark Kent||Superman x MCU

Moon Knight

Harry Potter

The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings

The Hobbit/LotR x Sherlock

Child’s Play/Chucky 

IT

Hunger Games

Jurassic Park / World FFN

Resident Evil 

Call of Duty || GhostSoap

Call of Duty x DBH

DBH || Connor

DBH x Mcu DBH x Batman

Tales of Vesperia

Undertale

Undertale x Harry Potter

Dragon Age

Metal Gear

Halo & Mass Effect FFN

[itsmoonpeaches]

Title: My Mirror, My Sword, and Shield

Chapter 4 of 4 (FINAL): Part IV: Knight

Prompts for @febuwhump 2023 used for chapter 4: Survivor’s guilt (day 27) and “you’re safe now” (day 28).

Word count: 6,419

Rating: T

Summary: Byleth and Dimitri finally understand each other.

Soft light filtered in, peeking from behind her sticky eyelids. It was not the brilliant white of day, but a muted gray like that of an evening star’s shadow. The light was the hazy line of a moon ring, a winter halo shimmering ahead of a diaphanous ribbon of plumy clouds.

The taste of copper lingered on her tongue as if she had swallowed an unpleasant lozenge and it sat at the base of her throat. Her body felt both heavy and hot. If she shifted just so, something smooth and silky rubbed against her clammy skin.

She thought she could smell flowers, remnants of them at least. And beyond that, she listened to the ringing buzz that hearing nothing but stuffed cotton in her ears would make.

All her senses were firing off or reduced, and none of it made sense. So that finally, when Byleth’s eyes did open, it was to a haze of confusion and pain.

She groaned as she felt her head throb. She found herself looking around an unfamiliar room. Though she had lived for two years on Fhirdiad Castle’s grounds, she had not frequented all of them, and this was certainly a room she had not seen before.

There was a fireplace against the wall with glowing embers, the remnants of a night’s fire. She was lying in a four-poster bed with white sheets and a comforter fluffed with feathers, and a sheer canopy hanging about her, draped across the beams.

It must have been very early in the morning. The sun’s rays were hidden behind heavy blue curtains decorating a tall window, but a gauzy fabric peeked from behind them through a wide crack. Behind that, even the light was low and dim. Flurries drifted down outside, frosting the glass.

She shifted, trying, and failing to find comfort in the position she was in. She grimaced at the discomfort that radiated from her chest and middle. The thick bandages wrapped around her were constricting, but the cream fleece nightgown she wore was at least not overbearing.

She let out a whimper when she moved too suddenly, finding that attempting to sit up was not an option.

“Lady Eisner! You’re awake!” a voice squeaked from behind the canopy. She thought she saw the silhouette of a woman whose hair was knotted in a bun through the gossamer drapes. “I’ll get someone right away.”

Continue reading on ao3.

[dent-de-leon]

I’m not sure if you wanted prompts from that kiss list or it was just inspiration, but if you want writing prompts….. maybe 3 and/or 10 for widomauk? 🥺

Hi!! uhh sorry I took too long on this I got like a couple paragraphs in and then it just kept going. Anyway, here's some Moonweaver festival widomauk. Thanks for the prompt!

“Caleb! You have to come see this! There’s lights dancing in the sky!” 

The Moonweaver’s ribbons wind between the mountain peaks cresting high above, snow capped summit scintillating and shimmering like diamond dust, brilliant beams of neon green cascading into electric blue, opalescent radiance shining brighter than every star. Time slowing to the golden halcyon haze of a lucid dream. 

Heavy wingbeats echo overhead to the chorus of distant roars, wyverns soaring across the sky in dark streaks against the glowing night, their riders threading gossamer rays of light through a sea of stars. Thundering applause and uproarious cheers ring out in all of Lyrengorn, the crowd merry with song and dance as the Moonweaver’s radiance wove through a crystal clear solstice night.

The sight steals Molly’s breath away, leaves him starry-eyed and moonstruck, entranced by the ethereal night above. He throws his hands up in the air and twirls around in the whirling snow, flurrying powdery flakes alighting on his horns and crusting his long dark eyelashes. For just a moment, Caleb can imagine him catching a falling star, winding ribbons of light passing through his claws. 

If anyone could catch a shooting star, it would be Mollymauk. He burned with a light all his own, eclipsing even Catha’s pearly glow. Caleb always loved watching comets blaze across the horizon like a fireball called down by the gods, burning hotter than the Nine Hells. Incandescent. But how fast they faded as they fell to earth, their light snuffed out in a heartbeat. Too good to last. 

Warm, bubbling laughter escapes Mollymauk until he collapses in the snow still reeling with giggles, breathlessly giddy and delighted and so vibrantly full of life. 

“Oh. That’s lovely,” he sighs. And then, tail swinging excitedly at the thought, “Ya think they’d let me ride one of those?”

This is the side of Mollymauk that always brings a smile to Caleb’s eyes. The wide-eyed, easily dazzled wonder; his boundless curiosity and love for every little mystery and simple pleasure this world had to offer. Savoring the taste of fine wines and summer strawberries. Luxuriating in the soothing steam and perfumed bath salts of a lavish bathhouse. Threading wildflowers through tousled dark curls, horns jingling with chains of gold and silver and shiny little trinkets. 

Caleb wants to see Molly catch a glimpse of an airship as it lights up and takes flight, the fanged grin when he stands before a volcano for the first time. Bask in that patch of winter sun Mollymauk always carried with him. 

The Moonweaver herself must have cast her radiant glow upon Mollymauk when he first woke, bathed him in a pool of glimmering moonlight and washed Lucien’s bloody past away. Even now he was haloed in her celestial glow, soft pearlescent rays shining down upon him. 

Caleb was born and raised under Empire rule, burned and bled for it. And for all his life, worship of the Moonweaver was strictly forbidden. But of course Molly would flirt with the temptingly forbidden and mystifying, ingratiate himself to a god who was themself an outsider. It did not hurt that her domain was the easy allure of play and dance, trickery and passion. The keeper of midnight trysts. 

Even among the sanctioned deities, every temple in the Dwendalian Empire was government-owned and run, clerics and priests meticulously vetted to suit their needs—always kept on a tight leash. Religious practice in itself was a social taboo; the empire highly discouraged divine magics, fearing any earnestness in prayer that might turn to treasonous fervor. And yet, Mollymauk had still believed. And hid. Kneeling down under a full moon and carefully tucking his idols of Sehanine away. 

Caleb had never seen Mollymauk Tealeaf worship so freely, lost in a crowd where everyone was so warmly welcoming and happy. The crisp night air was alight with music and laughter and cheer. Dancers twirling their partners as glistening auroras rippled and swirled above. Children chasing after each other howling with laughter. Merchants passing out hot drinks and fresh baked sweets, the scent of gingerbread wafting in the air. 

He’d gone to festivals like this once. Long ago, in the flowering fields of Blumenthal. Wulf sharing a sip of his drink as Astrid grabs him by the arm, steals him away. Leads him off into the crowd of merry dancers and lets her hands fall to his waist—

He can’t linger too long on those stolen moments, the rare smiles and tender touches, gentle kisses in a hidden alcove after the clock strikes midnight. Every shred of cold comfort desperately scoured in the darkness. It bleeds together with all the rest, the gnawing pit of shame and guilt and grief hollowing him inside out. That life and name he can never return to. 

But he isn’t there, buried in the ruins of it. He’s here. He’s Caleb. And beside him, Mollymauk’s joy is infectiously radiant. 

Molly revels in the beauty of the Moonweaver’s star-woven tapestry, the bleeding crescent sliver of Ruidus merely a distant gleam, like a half-forgotten dream. On nights when the faraway moon flared a bright, blazing vermillion, it was far too reminiscent of the Somnovum’s burning red Eyes gazing down upon them. 

“You see that cluster of stars that look like a weird duck? Just there?” Mollymauk asks, pointing up at a shimmery haze of blue as dark as the midnight sea. Pinpoints of starlight sparkled in the mist, drawing Caleb’s eye farther north, to a beacon of breathtaking light. “Has different names,” Molly adds, “but Gustav says lots of elves call that the Mollymawk. It’s…a seabird. Or something. Big bloody thing, so don’t fuck with ‘em. Some say they’re a sign. An omen. Or maybe they’re just oversized seagulls that love to go for a swim. But I always thought they’re a pretty sight.” 

He tilts his head up to the light of full moon, basks in Catha’s glow and tries to glean the pattern of stars nestled by her side, tracing imaginary lines between half remembered constellations, seeing stories come alive in the winter sky. His hand falls, unbidden, to the pocket where he kept his tarot cards. You should ask him for a reading, Caleb admonishes himself, Molly would like that. Except, he’s still too afraid to take that step. 

He can’t bear the thought of what Mollymauk might see.  

A memory flits back to him in the soft snowfall and prismatic patterns of ambient light. Molly’s dextrous claws carding through the deck, deftly shuffling. “I saw her again,” he confesses, a quiet chuckle escaping him, eyes shining bright with mischief. “Beautiful and eccentric as ever. Read my fortune. It was a good card. Well, there are no bad cards—sort of. But this, aye, this was a good one.” He flips the card on the top of the stack, revealing a stunning portrait of Yasha wreathed in a sunlit halo. Shimmering wings unfurled to frame her imposing frame, a bouquet of blooming flowers cradled in her arms. Shackles shattering into ash and dust. Her soul breaking free. 

“Do you know what this means?” Molly asks, leaning in conspiratorially. 

The card is titled Love, and it makes his traitorous heart nearly stop. 

Caleb catches a flash of something out of the corner of his eye, coasting along on the late night breeze, fluttering away in the moonlight. 

A long white satin ribbon streams from one of Molly’s horns, tied on for good luck. Molly had fastened a matching one to Caleb’s own wrist, tying it in a neat bow despite his protests, frantic pulse beating against the whisper of soft sheer fabric. Hands sweating as Molly traced the delicate trimming with careful claws, thumb brushing over his lifeline. “Oh come on, Mr. Caleb. It’s festive.”

Although baffled and a bit flustered, Caleb was honored to be included. Mollymauk’s worship had always been such a personal matter; a quiet, private moment. An unspoken intimacy between him and the moon that always lit his steps through darkness. 

Swathed in silvery moonlight and whispering over his shimmering glass swords—how much of that was for show? A play, a performance, cloaking himself in the rich mantle of superstition and ceremony. They say Sehanine shelters her followers in the shadows, secreting them away under the cover of darkness. But Mollymauk, ever the flashy peacock, had mastered the delicate art of masquerading in a veil of prismatic color and glittering light. 

An ornate coat embroidered in the symbols of every god permitted in the Empire’s pantheon, the sign of the Platinum Dragon hanging from his neck. Idols of Sehanine safely tucked away in hidden pockets. Crescent moons subtly stitched into the lining of his coat. His love for the Moonweaver woven into the elaborate ornamentation of his tarot cards, inked into his very skin among blooming flowers and winding snakes. A secret covenant between him and his moonlit goddess. 

Molly’s worship is a declaration of love. 

Moonlit prayers and pleas whispered into warm skin at the witching hour, reverent and desperate and strung out with the sweetest sighs. A drunken song dissolving into bursts of giddy laughter. Lingering touches that echo for lifetimes after. Mollymauk worships the way he fights, scrappy and passionate and fiercely protective, bleeding his own heart dry. A sacrificial knife glinting in the last rays of twilight. His blood spilling down the alter, giving up all that he is. A body rent in two with the last gasping breath and trembling hands of a life tangled up in too many loose threads.

Caleb worships no one. Bows before no god, not even the savior whose idol hangs heavy around his throat. The simple comfort of a stranger’s kind touch and gentle words; a favor from a faceless god he could never return. And still, Caleb had never sworn himself to any Prime Deity in the pantheon. Never cared for the paltry promises of faith and salvation, not when he could bend reality to his will with his own mortal hands, manifest anything his broken heart desired. 

And what his heart ached and longed for more than anything was for Mollymauk Tealeaf to rise from the grave, laugh in the Raven Queen’s face just one last time. Finally open his eyes. Mollymauk lies naked, bloodied, broken, his ruined body torn from mangled flesh and bone and rot, painstakingly pried from Lucien’s decaying husk like some grisly, mocking pantomime of birth. Stripped bare and caked in blood and all curled up, tail wrapped around himself. He looks…young. Vulnerable. Caleb is seized by the sudden, fiercely protective urge to cover Molly’s still form with his own coat, to somehow shield his prone body from all the lifeless eyes of this horrific place. 

They don’t have any time for that. Caleb traces his fingertips along the wicked scar bisecting Molly’s torso, the one he dug his own claws into. His hand comes away drenched in blood—Molly’s blood, once so warm, but going cold—and he scrambles for the little lucky stone in his pocket, trembling as seven pairs of eyes all fall to him. 

He can do this. He has to. 

But it’s Caleb’s first time unravelling the Matron’s thread, and he is no cleric. He has no prayers or offering to lay at Molly’s feet. He has only his own magic, a lifetime of study and discipline and desperation coursing through his veins in burning clarity. He kneels and begs for Mollymauk’s soul to hear them. And when the spell fails, when the light dies and Molly’s body is still and lifeless and—empty. He’s empty. Even though Caleb promised, gave his word, swore he’d be Empty no longer—

When it all falls apart, Caleb has only himself to blame. 

If only he had something—anything—to contribute to the ritual. A worthy offering.

But he had nothing. Only a letter left unread, still buried in the grave, that Mollymauk would never see. “Your name is Mollymauk. Mollymauk Tealeaf.” Only a memory encased in stained glass, a rainbow of brilliant color glistening in the warm candlelight, the centerpiece of hearth and home. “Come and find us.” Only a broken goodbye as he gently brushes the sweaty hair from Molly’s eyes, leaves him with a kiss that tastes only of regret. 

Caleb is godless, faithless. And more than that, he is already damned; death and grief and guilt sink their claws into him still, every spark of flame conjuring shadows of his old home. He has no illusions of the weight his own sins carry, understands far too intimately that he may be beyond redemption. Too little too late. Maybe. For him. But if he can save another soul, pull someone else back from the brink, again and again, spare them from his own doomed fate—

Astrid. Wulf. Essek. And then Mollymauk, caged and screaming, rattling at the bars and spitting in Lucien’s face, prying away pieces of himself in clawing agony. 

Caleb has no god to pray to. But when Mollymauk’s body glows, bathed in the light of a Magician’s spell, and his skin is warmed as it was in life, and Caleb swears he can hear the faintest echo of a heartbeat, he desperately believes. In Mollymauk, in the Nein, in some raw aching hope for salvation and second chances. 

For this falling star that brought a gleam of light to all their lives, Caleb can kneel in supplication, and lay bare his own heart upon the alter. 

“He’s religious, you know,” Fjord divulged once, even as Beau balked and Nott nearly spat out the drink she just downed. “No, really. I see him praying over his swords every night.” 

“Every night?” Beau adamantly shakes her head, nose scrunching up as she snorted into her cup. 

“And every morning!” Molly adds brightly, slamming two more tankards down on their crammed little table. 

“Oh, Molly! You have a god too!” Jester squealed, jumping up to her feet and practically bursting with excitement. “Who is it? You think maybe they’re friends with the Traveler?” 

“Huh. That’s a good question, I hadn’t really thought of that. Could be…She reminds me a bit of you, actually. The playing tricks. The blue.” 

“She’s blue!?” 

“Just your shade, I’d think. Could be your sister.” 

“What is it you believe in, Mr. Mollymauk?” Caleb asks carefully, eyeing the glint of mischief in Molly’s twinkling eyes. 

Mollymauk swings his leg over the chair and falls down with a vibrant jingle of gold and jewels and clamoring trinkets all tinkling like a handful of coins. He sprawls across the table and shoves one of the tankards in front of Caleb, almost as an afterthought. Spiced sweetness; cloves, cinnamon, pumpkin. Sharp burn of whiskey. Caleb cradles it in his hands and greedily gulps it down, warmed to his core by the drink and something else he dare not say. 

Mollymauk turns to him with a rakish grin, claws idly circling his tankard’s rim. 

“What do I believe in? Mm, let’s see.” He dragged the words out thoughtfully, savoring the taste of every one. “Pleasure.” Caleb doesn’t wet his lip as his throat goes desperately dry. He definitely does not. “Joy. Chaos. Leavin’ this ridiculous world a bit better off. Making some folks a little happier, doin’ a good turn. Havin’ fun while ya’ still can. Love. The finer things in life, Mr. Caleb.”

The finer things. Caleb was anything but; haggard face smeared in dirt and grime, dark circles rimmed under his sunken eyes. Threadbare clothes falling apart at the seams, sagging on his bone thin frame. Too many months since he’d had a shave, since he’d taken a pair of shears to his overgrown, matted auburn hair. 

And yet, he can remember bits and pieces of that other life so clearly. Fine silk robes bearing the seal of the Solstryce Academy. Sunlight dappling golden halls, shining on stained glass. Condensation glistening on marble arches and columns, clouds of steam wafting over crystal clear bathwater. A ripple, a splash. His hands dipping into the water in a bloody stream, blotted streaks of bright crimson blooming at his touch, a stain he could never wash away. 

He gingerly scrubs the blood from Astrid and Wulf as his own dyes the world around them a deep, murky red. Fearful awe and aching reverence in every touch, trembling hands tentatively exploring the expanse of pale, bony skin laid bare before him. He can't remember if it was devotion he chased or merely desperation. If the distinction even mattered. If he wanted this or just wanted and wanted and wanted—aching to feel anything other than the ceaseless violence and searing pain. 

He still cannot fathom why Mollymauk cast those disarming smiles his way, looking past the decade mired in wallowing filth and decay, staring through to Caleb’s core and truly seeing him. For years, he hung his head and skulked in the shadows, roaming the streets alone and destitute, a nameless shade haunting the country he once called home. All in the faint, desperate hope that discerning eyes would glaze over him in sheer revulsion. No one would ever look too close and actually see him. Just another lonely hermit, not worth anyone’s attention. 

But Mollymauk had seen. Again and again, as Caleb ducked his head and raised his hood, darted past and fearfully tried to steer out of his way, he could never quite shake the tiefling’s piercing gaze. 

He squirmed at the attention at first. The playful teasing and too sharp smiles and barest brush of soft lips on fever warm skin. 

Caleb’s keen mind recalls that the Moonweaver favors kind souls and tricksters, Catha’s grace shining upon star-crossed lovers. The allure of forbidden romance. Clandestine trysts. Caretaker of all the bleeding hearts doomed to a tragic end.  

As Caleb reluctantly trails after Mollymauk in the mirthful crowd, he can’t help but notice parents lifting children up on their shoulders to admire the wondrous winter lights. Circles of elves timidly exchanging flower crowns. Young couples holding hands in the moonlight. 

Why had Molly even asked him to come? 

“...hey, Caleb. You still with me?”

It takes a moment for him to realize the tiefling had been speaking, chatting away animatedly as lights painted the night in bleeding watercolors; Molly’s face illuminated by the auroras’ soft glow flickering above, dappled in iridescent shades of glacial blue melting into molten gold.

“Ja. I was just—” Mollymauk is walking closer now, advancing on him until he’s stepping right into his space, leaning in until he’s mere inches away, “—distracted.”

“Magician.” 

Caleb loves the way he says that. The light lilt of his accent and soothing cadence. Fond, teasing. Charming. The Magician—flashy tricks, sleight of hand, a magic that’s only real if you believe it. A gracious bow as the curtain drops.

Molly bites his lip and Caleb desperately tries not to mirror him. But his gaze still falls to the pretty shape of his mouth and that glint of fang sinking in.  

Of course Molly catches him staring.

Mollymauk watches him with the quiet intensity of a wizard unravelling a spell, deeply invested and singularly focused, tearing loose the fabric of the universe to lay it all bare—an Archmage’s blasphemous arrogance.Tampering with the gears and tugging on heartstrings to see what makes a man tick. Deft hands shuffling the deck, every card stacked in his favor. Smiling as blood streams from a split lip. Hooded red eyes gleaming in the firelight as he downs his tankard with roaring laughter. Burnished sunset gold in glistening amber globules. Turning cards and twisting truths, changing fate and fortune at the whim of his too-soft heart. Sharp tongue still ringing silver, crooning sweet nothings in his ear with a devil’s tender touch. 

For all his playing at the fool, Mollymauk knew far too much. 

“Close your eyes a moment,” Molly orders, eyes narrowed. 

His tone brokers no room for argument. 

“Was?”

“Eyes closed! No peekin’.”

Caleb relents with an exasperated sigh, surrendering himself to another of Molly’s mercurial whims. And maybe there’s just the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips, a certain fondness for his ridiculous Circus Man. 

He’s rewarded for his gracious compliance with a little pat on the cheek. 

“Good boy,” Molly purrs—it warms him to his core, saccharine sweet as ambrosia spilt by the gods. Caleb can just imagine his tail swaying in glee, a coy cat who just cornered prey. 

Brat.

Something changes after that. A charge in the air, exhilarating and electric. A taste of ozone before the storm. Is this what Yasha feels, when she inhales the wind and pouring rain and heeds the call of thunder roaring in her blood? Skin soaked to the bone, dark tousled hair plastered to her sweat sheened forehead as she stands and walks headlong into the raging tempest. Terrifying—thrilling—a bolt of blazing lighting that resonates with every beat of her racing heart. 

Mollymauk is dangerously close. Both of them are. Dancing at the edge of the precipice, ravens circling. Caleb can feel the warmth of his breath fogging up the chilled night air between them with every gentle exhale. 

"Mr. Caleb," Molly says, and he knows it's accompanied by a cheeky grin. "Tell me, how would you feel if I--"

"Kiss me." Caleb's voice is raw, breathy, the words both a demand and ardent plea.

Molly's laughter is a warm rumble that could melt all the snow in Lyrengorn.

"Well, since you asked so nicely."

Molly delicately cups his cheek in hand, drawing him in like a gravitational pull, like a pale moon caught in their brilliant star’s orbit. Warm lips pressed against his in a tender kiss, feather soft and fleeting. Molly’s every touch is gentle. Intimate. A distilled moment of sheer bliss that leaves his heart lighter than air. Molly breathing a bit of joy back into his life, sharing some of the same spark that chased away his own demons, filling up the clawing Emptiness that hollowed him out and made its home in his bones. An Emptiness that Caleb feels he’s always known. 

It’s frighteningly easy to surrender at such gentle hands, acquiescing to Molly’s capricious impulses and guileless affection, an unspoken temptation he dared not indulge in. But Mollymauk, heathen, hedonist, patron of all worldly pleasures, had never once known temperance.  Chalice overflowing with the heady rush of desire, every forbidden tryst and flare of passion a reverential blessing. He has always bowed before the goddess of love, and he remains ever devout in his worship. 

It’s addictive, intoxicating. And over far too soon. Just as their lips brush, Molly’s hand starts to fall away—letting him go. 

Caleb doesn’t want him to. 

He surges forward and tangles his hands in Molly’s dark curls, drawing him in for another kiss. And another. Molly lets out a breathy laugh that Caleb gladly claims, holding him tight and reveling in the taste.

He’s enveloped in the familiar comfort of Mollymauk’s scent. Sandalwood—warm, earthy—and just a tinge of something sweeter. Kneeling in prayer over burning incense, massaging perfumed oils as they wade into the steam of a warm bath. 

And curse him, but Caleb is seized by a fervent longing to mouth at the hollow of his throat and bury himself in the soothing balm of Molly’s all encompassing embrace. 

He pours his heart into each kiss, the long months of loss and longing gnawing away at him. Heated gazes in quiet moments, a little pat on the cheek or comforting hand on the shoulder. Molly’s playful teasing thawing at the frost of his heart—even though the Waldhexe surely devoured it long ago. A spark of burning life that Caleb had to watch die out twice. Shine bright, Circus Man. Echoes of memories clinging to Molly, tethering back his wayward soul. Caleb’s feelings flowering into bloom just as his Circus Man finally wakes.

The last time Caleb kissed Mollymauk it was to say goodbye, tumultuous waves of grief and guilt spilling over in his last desperate attempt at comfort. Mourning a love and tenderness that would never return.

He wouldn’t stand by and suffer in silence again. Heart shattering along with the jagged shards of a Transmuter Stone, broken fragments falling from his shaking palms as it all goes dark. 

The Matron’s ravens couldn’t have him. Not while Caleb still lived and breathed; he’d sever the binds of every thread if it came to that, burning away at fate’s cruel weave until Mollymauk was finally free. 

“It’s good luck if you get a kiss tonight,” Molly whispers when they part, his face softening in the moonlight.

Then all too soon that rush of hearth-fire warmth is gone, Molly’s indigo curls wind tossed and fluttering in the cool night breeze as he turns away, turns to run and vanish under the cover of shadow. Molly shoots him a grin, sharp and sweet, before he turns on his heel and darts off into the crowd of revelry, that familiar laughter echoing in the night as he disappears into the dark. His mother told him fairy stories once. Tales of creatures with otherworldly beauty, dancing wild and free under the Moonweaver’s light, captivating lost mortals. But doomed to never stay. Fading back into the void black dark and winding woods, leaving behind nothing but the lingering shadow of a phantom touch. 

“M-Mollymauk!”

Caleb nearly loses his footing scrambling to chase after him in the snow, a gust of biting cold wind and ghost of a chuckle leaving him breathless. But he can’t help grinning, even as his teeth chatter and every aching muscle protests the bracing, blistering chill cutting through him, knives of ice in his chest. He barely feels it as he races after Mollymauk, spurred on by the tiefling’s teasing taunts and howling laughter. Chasing a falling star.

[swagging-back-to]

sims 4 cc lists for individual sims - skins, makeup/tattoos, presets, poses, hair, clothes

Links will come eventually. Some are listed by file names, some are listed by official titles. Creator username always comes first, and may be abbreviated or shortened if i use a lot of their stuff. Typically has a description of what type of item it is.

// skins and presets //

suzue ear preset n 3

suzue ear preset n 2

minimalsim small tattoos n1

alfgray male body presets 01

helgatisha model poses 32 posepack and CAS

couquett admire me posepack

beto_ae0 sleepover with friends (pose pack)

kiellessa rin okumura's tail

thecomic voltron face markings

daria_glass tattoo lunar cycle

jovelyng japanese flower tattoo

gossipgirl-s4 japanese tattoo

wistfulcastle cosmic dune - mtattoo

s-clubts4 WM tattoo back 01

-merci- tattoo n01

merci tattoo n10

alix dekostube s#ign symbols v1

azurenika grunkle stans tattoo

shazzqr mixed design tattoo pack #1

sugar owl the sun tattoos

sugar owl the moon tattoos

sugar owl the star tattoos

sugar owl the chariot tattoos

sugar owl the devil tattoos

sugar owl golden bracelet tattoos

SO garden of roses tattoos

so love is on the line full body tattoo

so under the sea full body tattoo

so see the good full body tattoo

so carnival joy face tattoo

so children of the night

so here comes the sun full body tattoo

// hair //

Wings fluffy long curled

wings frizzled updo

wings fluffy male curl

wings curly hair with double buns

wings natural curly short

wings echo

wings OE0818

wings fluffy male hair

wings TO0418

wings TO0326

wings TO0220

wings TZ1028

wings ER0805

wings TO0729

leah lilith joie

leah lilith soundwave

leah lilith juliette

anto angelo (adult & child)

anto ivory

anto lizzo

anto momsen

anto arya

anto daisy

anto maggie

anto blossom

-merci- triandal hairstyle

darknightt dahlia hairstyle

viviandang kojiro hairstyle

// clothing //

---> tops

christopher067 temptress top

belaloallure_lili blouse

lace up crop top

cleotopia lace top bralette crop

cleotopia accessoiry bra tops

belaloallure_ cassandra top

cleotopia lace top flora

charlindy peasant blouse

the perfect night side ruffle top

SLYD cuban collar shirt

pizazz ladies bouse N 08

amaranthwaffle mabel pines sweater

plumbobs n fries maddox sweater

plumbobs n fries Nikolai jacket

plumbobs n fries santos

plumbobs n fries thalia sweater

toksik kaliah top

kks4 sweatshirts 03 fm

slyd cropped tank top estelle

jwofles-sims oversized hoodie

oranostr print sweaters

fesege shingeki no kyojin all

---> bottoms

belaloallure_ alaina pants

belaloallure_zafaria shorts

belaloallure_fai pants

belal19972 danial pants

wicked_kittie halloween themed leggings

pizazz cropped sweat pants

SLYD culottes noel

plumbobs n fries lewis shorts

plumbobs n fries frankie pants

pnf sierra pants

trillyke flashback pants

trillyke take off pants

trillyke love me right cropped

trillyke hi high pleaded skirt

trillyke my little black skirt

sims2fanbg 332 ripped skinny jeans

pinkzombiecupcake winter black ripped jeans

sentate mortimer biker pants

serenity-cc pearl slit pants

viy_sims pants mi - vic

---> full body

esyram floral applique tulle dress

its leeloo lace up suede dress

plumbobs n fries brandy outfit

toksik bailo dress

slyd ondria dress

pinkzombieunicorns reinas swimsuit

---> accessories

christopher067 lovato necklace

christopher067 nouveau earrings

wisteriasims gothic moon choker

minimalsim grace earrings

minimalsim trekant necklace

sugar_owl arya halo

serenity-cc elisa glasses

pralinesims shine forever glasses

pralinesims xoev glasses

pralinesims mobius necklace

nightcrawler layerable hoops

trillyke wolo fishnet tights

toksik euphoria rings

toksik kamil headband

sugar owl pine tree stud earrings gravity falls

yealuis pine cap

Winter sporty socks

helsoseira joko thigh high socks

pinkzombiecupcakes winter tights

plumbobs n fries celina earrings

---> shoes

madlen puricelli boots

ShakeProductions leather sandals

arltos long boots

MinimalSim Ivory shoes V1

dissia mrand boots

slyd superstar sneakers

[thecandywrites]

Monster March 2024 Day 25 - Harpy/Moura Part 1

Moonlight Moura Part 1

Moonlight Moura

Part 1

It was the winter solstice and you giddily  yet anxiously got ready to fly in the aurora borealis around the world’s southern pole whose colors were very different from your own since you were from a colony by the north pole. The north pole’s aurora borealis was always blues, teals, turquoises, greens and yellows. The tradition was to follow the moon around the world, flying in the aurora borealis as it did the same. The colony you were staying at was near the southern pole. And it was your first time flying in the southern skies since your colony was in the northern hemisphere. And most of you had come a few days early to stay with extended family here and you were still in a state of awe and amazement. Because the aurora borealis was the other half of the rainbow’s colors. Yellow was the same, but now it was yellows, oranges, reds, pinks, magetas and purples. It was absolutely stunning and breathtaking. Like a sunrise never fading into the day as the sunset still danced under the stars of the night. 

“Now, just remember, just east of here, around the small island of the southern pole there is actually the ring of Neveahan islands. And then there is the largest fo them, surrounded by many other islands that stick up like fingers and the main large one has a ring of fog by day, but a ring of thunderstorms by night that the finger islands conceal. The aurora borealis usually splits into two, so half the group will go either north or south of it to stay in the aurora borealis." He instructed.

"It also has its own dragons. Some of which have come to call this colony home. The dragons call it the Kingdom of Neveah. And while there are people who look like us on the islands, the dragons have warned us to be very weary. Because the natives are very aggressive and violent towards outsiders. With dragons and dragons only being the only beings to pass in and out at will because the Neveahns don't even leave their native lands which the dragons insisted came in it’s entirety from their homeworld. The native Neveahn dragons from their homeworld cast the spells of the fog and storms to protect the largest of the Neveahn homeland from any invaders since the convergence. So we can not land there. And I would encourage all to not land at all during the flight. We'll be safe the higher up in altitude we stay. Stay in the southern lights and in the flock and we'll all get home safe and sound.” The flight leader- Corraine reminded all of you as you all got the last bits of sunlight as it set in the west.

Then within moments of the sun setting, the full moon rose in the east and everyone cheered while everyone seemed to glow in the moonbeams as each’s moura marks surrounded them like a halo around their bodies. The southern lights soon bloomed and stretched out in the sky. You could do little except sigh dreamily, feeling like you would never tire of this sight as you looked east and saw how the aurora borealis did indeed join back together as you realized, the yellows and oranges stayed north, it was the pinks and purples that stayed closer to the south. Which was funny to you because it was always the darker blues and indigos and violets that stayed closer to the true north pole and then the greens and yellows that stayed closest to the equator. So just like a rainbow. If you had put where the south pole started, it would color the whole spectrum by the time it would get to the north pole. 

With everyone eating the last of their desserts, it was time to fly as you kissed your younger cousins goodbye and left your leftover desserts with them before you took to the skies. As you and all the almost countless others began following the moon as it rose in the east and would continually set in the west and the trip would be done when you landed back down here in only a short 8 hours as opposed to the longer 16 hours of pure flight that was spent flying around the equator. Small circle around a pole vs a larger one around the supersphere’s equator.  

The winter solstice and summer solstice was a moura’s coming of age ritual. When an individual felt they had fully matured into adulthood, they took part in the flights. Usually between flying either for the first time in either the summer solstice where the group followed the sun around the world, or in the winter, following the moon and flew within either the southern or northern aurora borealis near the poles. 

The summer solstice was always held in the colonies closest to the equator. The winter solstices tended to volley which pole they would take the winter solstice flight on. 

You had started your adulthood flight with the north pole flight. And after this one, you would hopefully find a mate among those who had either taken up this flight with you, or joined and ended between the three you had done. 

But not always. 

Because moura’s genetics had a half life here in this world. Not all mouras had the moura collar. And not all mouras could use said collar to transform into any bird form they wished to and enjoy the other magical properties of moura abilities. So those that did not, depended on either friends or family members to fly them to the host colony where the host colony would literally party all night during the flight and dance until their shoes fell apart or until their feet were sore and swollen, but never to the point of bleeding or breaking any bones. 

But so far, you were disappointed when no other seemed to catch your eye or your fancy. But there were still so many new people joining this flight, just like there had been with the summer solstice. Maybe one of them would by the end of it. 

But looking up at the sky, you rather loved the differences in the stars in the southern border and maybe a man from this very colony would finally be what you felt you were looking for all your life. 

You transformed into a missile hawk, because such birds could be the fastest fliers. And they were light and easy to fly and attain altitude but once you would be at a good soaring altitude, you would change into an albatross. Because they were the masters at soaring flight which, for this flight of endurance you would need that form because the strength you got from the moon reflecting the sun’s light was only half of what the sun was at full strength during the day. 

You had learned this the hard way. While missile hawks were best for fast, acrobatic, aerial and almost as dexterous as a dove or even a hummingbird, they weren’t the most efficient for soaring. You had spent your first flight in the northern lights as a missile hawk doing every aerial dynamic stunt and trick you knew of and learned many more from the others and even in the summer solstice flight. But you barely made it back to the host colony on that first flight and it was only because you were following the sun on the summer solstice as a mega phoenix that you had the energy from the sun to make it back and you had lost weight on both flights. And a moura underweight or skinny, was not a good thing. Mouras were meant to be plump but powerful. 

Perhaps it was that, that had the others showing disinterest in you. Because you were still young enough that you wanted to have fun, but lacked the maturity to realize that while having fun was good and important, when the end goal was endurance, wasting energy on stunts and tricks was perhaps immature and foolish. 

You followed the leaders who took up the skies to make sure everyone flew in one flock, with many V’s so that the tips of the wings picked up the updraft from the others in the front. While the younger juveniles practically flew in a ball behind them with the other half of the leaders taking up the rear, making sure that no one got left behind or got lost or separated. 

You realized, you had seemed to get the same idea as everyone else who had gone through the first two flights with you. To finally get into the form of large gliders, synchronizing wing beats so that all of you stayed at that perfect altitude which was the sweet spot for this flight. 

“So how long have you been a flight leader?” You asked Corraine as you gradually traded places with others in the V until you were right on his immediate left side. 

“Ever since my wife and I stopped having kids and retired from being parents in our last rebirth. My wife is actually in the rear. Most of the mates of the female leaders take up the rear to keep a motherly eye on the youngsters.” He answered. 

“Oh, that’s awesome.” You smiled fondly. He had looked like he was your father’s age but to know he was on his last rebirth, meant he was a few hundred years old already.

“Have you had the same wife this whole time?” You asked. 

“Yes.” He laughed. 

“And it’s been a wonderful 435 years being married to her.” He added. 

“Wow, so you were from the homeworld. Any advice you’d wish to share about being happily married for so long?” You asked hopefully. 

“Yes. The first bit of advice I can give you is to not expect it to be happy all the time. Finding a mate in life is just that. A mate. Someone to love you for you and for you to love them as them. As perfectly imperfect as they are. If you both come from different colonies, then that’s two cultures of traditions that you both have to respect and choose which traditions you wish to uphold and pass down. That it’s not just two people that are being united, but two families as well. There will always be inlaws, and friends and family. Hopefully you will be able to get along with them, and if not, try to find peace and balance. Find an equal in all respects. Do not let one have more power over the other. Do not give loyal love and devotion to one who won’t mirror that back to you.” He began. 

“And do not judge others based on their appearances or who they are, what they are, wherever they are. And do not feel that you have to pick a mate from others who are on this flight with you. And that if you don’t pick one by the end of the flight, you won’t find one at all. I get more panicked singles in the last flight than anything else because they feel desperate to pick a partner because they don’t want to be alone or be single forever and they want a mate more than anything else and they are desperate for any mate instead of the right mate for them. You have at least 500 years of life ahead of you. Don’t feel you have to find your mate to spend it all with- on this flight over the next several hours. Hell, take two or three years, go to every colony in the world if you want to or need to. Take as long as you want and as long as you need until you meet every single member of our brethren. Who knows? Your mate might be in the most unlikely of places and may be of a different peoples altogether than moura. Don’t limit yourself now that your horizons are fully opened up. You have your moura collar and your abilities. Your own possibilities are endless.” He encouraged you as you felt a calm and a peace fill you and wash over you with such tender loving reassurances from him, like you were a granddaughter or even a great, great, great granddaughter to himself, 

“Thank you for your wise counsel, I will take it to heart.” You thanked him graciously before you switched places with another, hoping they too could receive the same advice as you now stayed on the southern most edge of the flock to enjoy the pinks, magentas, purples and violets of the southern most portion of the aurora borealis. Because mouras flying in it looked like little white fireflies as they moved with the winds and the waves of the southern lights. 

Over the flight, instead of doing everything you could to meet everyone taking the flight with you. You just stayed on the edge of a V and really enjoyed the southern lights. You really loved the different star constellations that twinkled in the southern hemisphere’s night sky above the southern lights. You were told by the others who were native to this hemisphere, what the names of them all were as you put each one in your memory, paying the ground hardly any mind at all as you did so. 

“Ok, everyone fly tighter now, either pick a group, left or right. We’re about to pass over Neveah’s largest island and we need to fly higher to fly over the storms!” They urged you as you watched as storms seemed to encircle the island nation that glowed with it’s own electric light in the middle. Looking like it’s own little constellation of stars surrounded by storms. 

But apparently you flew too close to observe such things because before you knew it, you were engulfed in fog then storm clouds as you realized, you were now all alone and surrounded by a storm cloud before a lightning bolt struck through you. Only an instant later, the thunder clapped around you and you fell like stone out of the sky. 

Thankfully, just as you regained consciousness, you realized you were about to impact with an craggy rocky outcrop and immediately transformed into your angelic state, a human with angel wing form and curled the wings around you and turned all your outer feathers into plate like armor to protect the rest of you and the force of the impact crushed and broke both of your wings as you bounced and rolled from one outcrop to the next like a ball during a carnival game, trying to land into a basket from being thrown or dropped down an obstacle course. 

You finally landed and stopped moving before you faintly felt the downpour of rain and managed to drag yourself with your broken wings behind yourself to a cave before you collapsed on a bed of moss just inside the cave.  

[plumes-merry-critters]

On late January, the moon wore this beautiful large halo

[micro-expressions]

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[odissean]

AANEACH / OVERVIEW.

Like it says on the tin, this post will provide a quick overview of Maedi's home planet. More details will come in future posts, such a closer look at locations and history. This post gives the lay of the land in the meanwhile.

PLANETARY FEATURES.

Aaneach is a small player on the galactic stage. Although a strong seafaring tradition can be noted in virtually all of the species' cultures, they've only begun spacefaring beyond their solar system in the past century or so. It was not a lack of desire to explore but rather key features of the planet that hindered their progress.

I. The ring system — Aaneach is haloed by a five-layer ring system shepherded by four moons. This contributed to a strong seafaring tradition notable in virtually every Aaneachan culture. The predictable orbit of the shepherd moons as well as the spokes on the rings created by the planet's magnetic field make time-keeping easy. Calculating longitude becomes easy by extension. This Halo does make winters colder / summers warmer and weather patterns more chaotic compared to Earth. (Chaotic weather patterns in particular are bad for sailing or launching spacecraft.) However, the Halo has the benefit of making the planet overall brighter both day and night.

The trade-off is the Halo long hindered the view of the night sky, in turn limiting astronomy. They also interfered with early satellites and spacecraft. This was the true hurdle in the Aaneachan journey toward space exploration. Once they were able to mine the rings, that changed everything. The resources such operations provided propelled them forward.

II. Majority ocean — Aaneach's surface is covered primarily by ocean. They have no continents to speak of, only archipelagos and islands. A few islands near 900,000 square miles, but there are none larger. Although Aaneachans are adapted to this, it presents a few obstacles to spaceflight. For one, mining underwater is a tricky endeavor. Most of the planet's land mining operations were concentrated on the few largest islands and the ice seas at the poles. (Mining has been primarily moved to the rings and asteroids in the system in the present day.) Simply getting up the resources for such an endeavor took creative thinking. For two, limited land availability means limited launch sites for early spacecraft. They have since innovated around that problem, but the point is took innovation.

III. Lack of unity — This is less a planetary feature and more an additional consequence of the planet's features. Aaneachans can be termed a social species, but the distance between islands had hindered global unity. Although navigating the oceans wasn't so difficult to figure out, crossing those vast swaths of water historically proved a problem. Even as technology developed, the Halom again, interfered with satellites, and there's not a great deal of land to waste on communication towers, etc. They have formed a world government in the past century, but it's more of a federation with each archipelago or island considering itself independent.

RECENT HISTORY.

Aaneach is little known in the galaxy and then really only to its neighbors. Once all the previously mentioned obstacles were overcome and they were able to travel beyond their system, they were still held back by their lack of unity. They did not have a planetary astral navy. Rather certain states had their own astral navies that often collaborated but were ultimately independent. Maedi, for example, was an officer of the Cthaian astral navy. She is furthermore that best known Aaneachan in the wider galaxy. This is due in part to her decades long voyage home after getting lost and in part to her dedication to exploration in the years prior.

What really put them on the map in their sector, though, was a war. Exploration revealed a golden opportunity: an uninhabited planet in a nearby system habitable by Aaneachans with worthy resources. There was a great push to colonize the planet. Not only would this enrich them but many hoped it would unite the planet as well. And, it did — just not as tightly as the war.

Another neighbor, Taruisa, had also set their sights on the planet. Though Taruisians and Aaneachans had made contact, they weren't close allies. Indeed, Aaneach had few of those, mostly trading partners. But when Taruisa challenged Aaneach's claim, they wouldn't back down. It wasn't simply greed that motivated them or the dream of a more unified planet. Rather it was pride. This was a chance to make a name for themselves in galactic affairs. If they allowed themselves to be bullied by the Taruisians, everyone else would do the same.

The Aaneachans put up more of a fight than the Taruisians expected. United, they mustered twenty-eight fleets. These fleets were then divided between four fleet admirals — a rank created for the war. Although this was the Aaneachans first true war in space, they were no strangers to conflict, and their clever strategies won them victories. But, the Taruisians had more resources and more allies. True, they got locked into a longer war than expected, but they were beating back the Aaneachans in the end. Finally, the Aaneachans employed a desperate, deceitful strategy — one that would have turned the tide if they'd succeeded. Alas, they did not. Taruisa broke their fleets, claimed the colony world, and occupied Aaneach in the bargain. Underground resistance cells continue the fight on the planet.

[robindavis]

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