#no fuss will be made aside from her hemming and hawwing

[boxwinebaddie]

anyways *me ignoring my stannic attack* speaking of tkak ( the delicious uncle nina tsot toxic yuri ) i'm conflicted bc writing it in the old english is kind of impossible to read...but having stas say shit like "gwendolyn, your frock looks rather fetching, particularly the bodice Not That I Was Looking Upon It!" and "alas boys! i am ruined! fetch me the mead so that i may drown my eternal sorrows in it before i throw this cruel wretched form from the bell tower" and "butters you are true ally and kinsman! tucker...may your next meal contain many Poisons" IS SO FUCKIN FUNNY THAT I MIGHT ACTUALLY HAVE TO

[kamimuse]

Too many things to ponder

The lighting of his study was dimly lit as usual, the wick of candles burning down to their base before sputtering out into a thin stream of smoke. Candles were easily replaced of course, a new stick usually placed right over where the old one had been. It had been like this for a few days now. The trove of tomes Hisao and Neugdae brought back from Thavnair were half rifled through. Hisao didn’t have time to actually read through them, but he had been skimming through and transcribed the Thavnarian script to the more common written word into a new grimoire he was crafting for himself. He’d only been transcribing the spells he thought would be beneficial and necessary. It was a good distraction, even if he wasn’t sure half of what he was doing was useful currently, but it beat the strange silence and mix of emotions he’d been feeling over the past week.

He had spent his time pouring over texts and journals about dimensional travel, alternate dimensions and any research involving planar travel. Nothing he found was useful, though his talk with Vindi had been insightful. It had given him ideas to play with and things to research, but these topics were the kind that got scholars and researchers laughed out of their field. There wasn’t enough printed and readily available information out there. Perhaps he just needed to stop formulating plans. Maybe he needed to do something already.

Between his private conversations, the attack in the hall, dealing with the aftermath of that said attack, and then Araijah showing up on his doorstep frightened out of his mind; The old man was starting to feel overwhelmed. His body was physically worn down due to his mental state. He was grateful that Araijah and Neugdae were there for him, as the pair of spirited youth had give him a much needed reprieve from all the stress, by fussing over the Hingan with their doting concerns for his well being. He couldn’t keep running on the same track. Things needed to change soon.

He was temporarily ripped from his thoughts and his transcribing task at hand when he felt a low thrum of energy from beneath his feet. He knew where that was coming from. Slowly he turned to look toward the bookshelf behind him near the stained glass window, his senses starting to slip almost as if someone had tied a rope around him and was starting to pull. That overwhelming sensation pulled right down that secret passage and into the lower basement chamber. This had been happening more and more lately, despite the wards he had in place- which he checked on religiously. Among the many other’s he had to deal with, it had been a distraction he didn’t dare bring up.

Knock, Knock.

The Raen jumped in his seat when the knock came, startling him out of his wits and pulling him back to reality. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily when the door slid open. Whether he was prepared to accept visitors or not, in stepped the slender female Raen who had been staying with him. The purple haired woman leaned in the sliding doorway as she watched her brother for a moment, her tail swaying from side to side. Hisao had already turned back to his work at hand, pushing all other thoughts aside while she stood there in silence. It was an odd tension between them. Yui was one of the few who still talked to him within their immediate family, but it didn’t mean their relationship wasn’t strained. Somehow, he had a feeling he knew what she wanted to discuss, and it was a conversation he still wasn’t entirely ready for.

“Yes?” He asked finally, finding her silence more irritating than anything else. It made him nervous.

“I have been here for over a week now. I need to get back to Kugane, the holiday is coming up and it’s my busiest season. I have work to do. Have you made a decision on what you want to do?” She was forward, and straight to the point.

“I will not be requiring your services yet. I’m still not certain on what to do.” He said quietly.  He set the quill pen down onto a small rectangular pen holder while watching the red ink dribble from the metal tip across the porcelain surface. Poetic that he would be using red ink in transcribing Thavnarian blood magic.

Clearly the small woman didn’t like his answer and she frowned quite hard at the back of the old man’s head. Striding over to lean against his desk as she peered down at him, folding her arms over her chest- yes her displeasure with her older brother was quite well known with her body language alone.

“You’ve been miserable. You’ve had more mood swings since I’ve been here in a week than you’ve ever felt in your entire life. You need to make a choice.” She scolded.

“I’m looking for alternative solutions.” Hisao explained.

Yui rolled her eyes. She was frustrated, clearly. While her stay in the Shroud had been an entertaining one, she was getting restless. She couldn’t wait on Hisao to hem and haw over this forever. So she walked around his chair to the other side of his desk and opened a drawer. Hisao immediately felt violated as the young woman began rifling through his things and he simply growled.

“What are you doing?”

She produced a handful of loose blank parchment and then promptly grabbed his quill from his desk, spinning and marching off into the kitchen, calling back over her shoulder.

“I’m just going to write you the rituals. I can’t sit here and wait for you to make a decision.” She sighed, sitting down at the table as she began scribbling out ritualistic instructions she knew off the top of her head. She ought to know them, she performed them quite often for her clientele back in the east. “I do know other rituals, but they require some really heavy-handed spell components. Ones you may not want to even bother with. Regardless- I’ll write them down anyways so you can pick and choose what is convenient for you.“

Brows knit together as the older Raen stood in the doorway leading into the kitchen, staring after her with quiet fury. There were other things he could have done? Why didn’t she tell him from the beginning? A quiet fury began to build in the older man as he took deep breaths, trying not to explode on the woman as he strode over to the table where she sat, watching her transcribe on stolen parchments.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” He asked firmly.

“Because it’s a lot of work!” she gestured with a huff.

“I didn’t ask for the simplest and easiest solution. I’m looking for the best solution, regardless of the amount of ritual work it takes. How dare you-“

“They all come with sacrifices, Hisao.”

The older Hingan eventually fell silent and sighed heavily. He couldn’t argue with Yui, and she was right- she needed to go home. He only wished she could stay longer- perhaps for another week. If she could write him the rituals, then he could easily perform them on his own or with assistance. He really didn’t need her there in the end, he just needed the spells.

“When are you heading back?” He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he moved to slump in a chair across from her at the table. “I was thinking of leaving tonight, head to Thanalan and do some shopping before hopping an airship to Limsa Lominsa. Probably stay there for a day or so then head out in two days.” She cast a glance to her brother thoughtfully.

Hisao reflected on her words for a moment before turning and heading back into the study silently, sinking down into the chair at his desk. Leaning heavily to one side, chin in the palm of his hand, the Raen stared off to the flickering burning candles just to the left of him. Fire was hypnotizing at times, but it allowed him to think while he stared into the brilliance of that light. Too many things to think about. Too many thoughts to process, too many emotions of despair not his own. Even when his own were mixed into the lot, it was like throwing gasoline onto the fire. Then there were the random influxes of pleasure, sadness, rage, and self-doubt. Yui was right. He couldn’t sit on this any longer. He was miserable.

Casting his gold eyes away, he peered at a new fresh leather-bound journal he’d purchased the other day. His conversation with Vindi had given him much to think about. The pages still blank and unused, he had yet to start compiling a list of memories into written form.

Depending on the other rituals Yui presented him with, perhaps he wouldn’t need to.

[syverce]

Dusk

Who: Ashraf of Night, Qadir of Day What: A meeting, a dedication, a wedding, all at once. I got to run wild with the religion and culture my character is from in this D&D game, so I did.  I can give some more info if people are interested. When: Five years before current time in Ashraf’s perception; in actuality, an indeterminate amount of time, more than a few hundred but possibly thousands.  Before the rise of the Blood Empire, before the fall of the original Court of Storms, but after the Pact of Seasons.  Before Lady Glassdragon’s peculiar book was written and bound. How: G, wholesomeness.  TW for an arranged marriage.

At the ripe old age of sixty one summers, the elder priest of the temple at Tala al’Ahmar retired to join the council of elders, and with him went the second eldest priest, his wife and co-head of the temple.  For the locals it meant a re-dedication of the temple as two new head priests were assigned, a festival in the streets book ended by public ceremonies at dawn and dusk.  It was the way of their people: the outgoing priests would depart at dawn, and the new ones officially dedicate the temple at dusk.  Auspicious times: the elders departing on their journey to the capitol at dawn, before the height of the heat, and the two incoming arriving at dusk, when thoughts turned to home and settling in.  The incoming priests were not introduced to the temple before the evening ceremony, nor introduced to each other.

Ashraf had arrived the day before to catch the dawn ceremony, and afterwards found himself adrift for several hours.  He had nothing to do and nowhere to be, and the fair, at least, was novel.  He’d spent much of his time in the capitol, where the changing of the head priests was a much more momentous and solemn affair.  Here it seemed it was an excuse for a party, children chasing each other through the crowds with honey-sticky fingers and old men reminiscing about the outgoing priests over arak and heavy smoke, old women gossiping about the incoming over tea and fruit.  They eyed him and whispered behind their hands as he passed, and Ashraf wondered if they suspected, if merely being an outsider was enough to betray him.  For a moment he was tempted to ask...

And then it passed when a gust of wind blew the smell of roasting meat his way, and he remembered himself.  This was, in truth, the ultimate test for someone of his order within the temple, the one thing he was forbidden to seek.

With an hour to go before the ceremony Ashraf retired to his rooms and set about dressing in his robes: a dark blue tunic and salwar under black robes chased in silver.  He’d only worn them twice before, at the tailor’s, and then under the judgemental eye of his old mentor, who had hmmed and hawed and tugged at his hem and argued with the tailor in a way that would’ve embarrassed him as a young supplicant under her tutelage--and truth be told, had embarrassed him as a grown man, but for different reasons.  It was too much fabric--too loose in some places, too tight in others. 

When he realized he’d spent a full ten minutes fussing with his hair in front of a mirror he forced himself to stop, picked up the bracelet that was charmed to disguise his attire, and left.

It didn’t take long to reach the crowd gathered at the steps of the temple, but it took a while to work his way through without rudely pushing anyone aside.  Dusk fell, and the priests and supplicants of the temple completed the final steps of their purification ritual for the day.  When the first star of evening appeared in the sky one of the priests came to the head of the steps, looking out over the crowd, which fell to a hush.

“We have endured the high heat of the day without guidance,” she called out.  “We have wandered alone, burned by the truth of the light, as we are not sheltered by our father, or guided by our mother.”  She paused, a little light of panic entering her eyes: this was clearly her first time, and she couldn’t see them.  “We will be blind in the dark without our father to tend the fire, or our mother to watch the stars.  Are there any among you here who know the dunes and the stars both?  Who know the light and the dark in equal measure?”

“No,” Ashraf called out, pulling off the bracelet and tucking it away to reveal his priestly robes--and the crowd parted around him, all the way up to the stairs.  “But I know the names of the stars in my heart,” he said as he approached, “and the secrets in the dark.  I will guide you through the night.”

He stopped one step below her, and she bowed.  “Thank you, father.  May we know your name?”

“Ashraf, of night.”

“Thank you, Ashraf, our father.”  She bowed again.  “But while we will now survive the night, we will all surely fall to the heat of the day tomorrow, even you.  I ask again: is there anyone here who knows the light and the dark in equal measure?”

“No,” another voice echoed, and it took every ounce of control Ashraf possessed to avoid snapping his gaze at the source.  Instead he turned calmly, saw the moment the other man removed his own enchantment.  He was taller by a few inches, his shoulders not quite so broad, but certainly not waifish.  His robes were white over sand, chased in gold, and his hair an untameable tangle of mahogany, sun-kissed in places.  “But I know what shelter the light will allow, and the name of fire.”

Ashraf’s head shifted slightly, taken aback.  It was odd wording for a declaration; he invoked home and hearth, but in a way that made Ashraf consider perhaps the man had a militant bent to his training.  In any case, he mounted the stairs as Ashraf had, and the priest bowed to him.  “Thank you, father.  May we know your name?”

“Qadir, of day.”  He stopped opposite Ashraf, and for a long moment they considered each other, until Ashraf grew distinctly uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Thank you, Qadir, our father.”  The priest bowed again, and a little murmur passed through the crowd.  It wasn’t unheard of to match two priests of the same sex or gender, since the criteria lie solely in their personalities and the philosophical and practical paths they walked.  “But our father Ashraf came to us first, and he must accept you into the temple.  Have you any words to offer him?”

Qadir’s gaze shifted from her to Ashraf, and his lips parted for a moment of hesitation before he spoke, loud enough for the gathering to hear, “I promise you warm light in the cold dark, if you will have me.”

“I do not fear the dark, for I am the dark.  This will not suffice.”  It was all theater, but he couldn’t give in on the first oath.  Even if the crowd knew he had to accept, it needed to seem genuine.

“I promise you a steady hand and a true heart, if you will have me.”

“As any young supplicant might possess.”  Because it wasn’t a good offer, honestly--Ashraf wondered if someone else had written the man’s oaths for him.

“Then I promise you a warm heart to match the cold dark within you, and a will of stone to sharpen your mind against.”  He paused, and Ashraf grimaced, because it cut too deeply.  Qadir’s eyes sparkled in the firelight that lit the temple in falling dark.   “If you will have me.”

“I will,” he said, and the crowd cheered.  Ashraf kept his eyes locked on Qadir, contemplating the other man, his words and his gaze.  “If you will swear your sacred oath to me.”

The priest produced a pair of boxes containing matched rings, each of an eclipse overtaking the sun.  Qadir took one first, and then Ashraf’s hand, and placed the ring,  “I will serve you, as a guardian and a guide.”  It confirmed Ashraf’s suspicions.

“And I you,” Ashraf took the other and repeated the motion, “as a guardian and a guide.”

The crowd’s excited, probably intoxicated antics drowned out the priest’s words, and Ashraf decided that as far as arranged ritual marriages went, it could’ve gone much worse.

[catty-words]

Since I recently saw a post that there was a plan to bring Tara back from the dead exactly a year after her death, because Buffy made a wish. So, Headcanon: Tara comes back at the beginning of Empty Places. What would happen from the beginning of the episode to the end? :)

ohh, an intriguing question.for those of you who don’t know the rumor, i found this explanation on buffy-boards.com:

While speaking at the Wizard World Chicago Convention in August 2004, Joss Whedon claimed that he had planned to bring Tara back from the dead at the end of Season Seven. According to Whedon, the episode would have centered around Buffy being granted one “life-altering” wish. Buffy would have spent the whole episode trying to decide what she wanted to do with the wish (including, possibly, restoring Angel’s humanity). The episode would have ended with Buffy telling Willow that she’d just gotten a great new pair of shoes, and when Willow asked her if she used up her wish on new shoes, Buffy would have said, “No, silly!” and stepped aside to reveal Tara. This plan was abandoned when Amber Benson was unavailable for filming. At the 2007 Comic-Con, he referred to this idea as well.

with that, let’s say the events of this missing episode come between dirty girls and empty places, while willow’s off restoring angel’s soul on ats. so the tara reveal happens right before the beginning of ep - 

we open on the same scene, willow all flabbergasted and frozen in place

and of course tara, because she’s so soft and nice and good at reading people, would be hanging back. not making the first move because she knows willow needs to process.

and then that’s when kennedy would walk in on this stand off and be like “oh willow! you’re back! the basement is currently empty so now would be the prime time to…okay i’m missing something here. what’s up?”

willow, too freaked out to explain, would just run from the room leaving everyone confused and concerned.

tara, of course, read the chemistry between willow and kennedy and she starts getting twitchy ‘cause, like, what if she doesn’t belong here? she did once, but coming back from the dead is kind of a big deal and it changes things. so…should she go?

and buffy picks up on her sudden discomfort so she’s like. “hey, this is big. we just need to give her some time. besides, i know someone who’s gonna flip out when she sees you’re back.”

they find dawn in the dining room reading some hefty tome (she’s the one that finds the clue about that one monastery or whatever and sends spike and andrew off on their mission) and of course as soon as she looks up and sees tara she goes super white and is like oh no the first!

but then buffy’s like. “trust me on this. try to give her a hug.”

and dawn’s like…weird…but she does it bc…what if tara is actually back??

as soon as she touches her, dawn’s jumping up and down - squealing and crying and fussing “it’s you it’s really you!! how? when? you know what, i don’t even care!! it’s you it’s you it’s you!!!!!”

so dawn spends the next several hours parading her around the house and being like “everyone this is tara. she’s a super cool witch and she makes the best pancakes and gives the best hugs” and just. on and on and on about how wonderful tara is

which, of course, tara appreciates. but it’s also kinda exhausting

in the middle of the night, after the excitement’s died down, tara goes into the backyard. and she finds buffy there, trying to have a moment alone

and tara tries to leave, but buffy insists that tara’s presence is the opposite of intrusive. so they sit together.

finally, tara breaks the silence to ask, “so the atmosphere is pretty heavy here. are we really up against something that bad?”

and buffy just kinda starts spewing out all her problems - xander’s injured, caleb’s on the loose, she has to lead an army of innocent girls without superpowers into a death trap etc. etc.

and tara’s so attentive and so kind that buffy starts to feel a little better about everything…even though she knows nothing’s changed

so then buffy asks tara how her first day back on earth was. and tara says that she kinda overwhelmed…not really sure how to process everything.

and there’d be this beautiful, parallel moment to their scene in the body where buffy says exactly what tara needs to hear – offers her empathy and profound connection. 

cut to the next morning where tara’s making breakfast for everyone with dawn and amanda’s help and like. it’s really tentative at first, but it seems like tara’s presence is like a balm on the vineyard tension. morale is slowly, barely starting to be repaired.

willow returns, and she and tara share this intense no-words moment, where they’re building up to something, trying to find the words, but then willow just ends up bursting into tears because she’d thought she’d lost tara forever!! and they hug and it’s an intimate but very unsure moment.

and then xander comes home and it’ not happy, per se, but he’s his usual buffoonish self, and that helps everyone take things less seriously.

buffy watches his ‘welcome home’ party off to the side though, not really feeling like she has a right to jump in because she blames herself for him having to be in the hospital in the first place

so she takes a walk and runs into caleb and he says whatever the thing he says that makes buffy want to go back to the vineyard

they fight. buffy escapes him in the nick of time and returns home.

instead of announcing her theory about something important being guarded at the vineyard to everyone, she pulls aside xander, willow, tara, and dawn.

of course they still react pretty harshly against the idea, but buffy’s like ‘i know it’s risky but i know i’m right! we need to get in there!!’

and everyone’s like “buff we’re gonna die if we go back!!” fighty fight fight

but then tara pipes up and she’s like “okay, buffy usually knows her stuff, so let’s say she’s right and there’s something to be retrieved from this vineyard. what do we need in order to make a raid possible’

and willow and dawn kinda hem and haw but ultimately they’re like…more info wouldn’t hurt – about what we’re looking for or what the preacher’s weaknesses are??

and that’s when spike gets back with andrew and they provide the more info and the episode ends with buffy being like. “alright then it’s settled. i’m going back in. but this time? i go alone.”

sleepover weekend