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infernal-ism · 2 months ago

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𝕴𝖋 𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖆 𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗❟ 𝕾𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖙 would be a black calla lily⸻elegant, mysterious, and commanding. The calla lily is often associated with both beauty and death, symbolizing rebirth, transformation, and the delicate balance between light and dark. The black variety, in particular, carries an air of prestige, danger, and power—fitting for Saint’s dual nature as both a refined aristocrat and a force of rebellion.

The black calla lily is a rare and striking flower, carrying an air of mystery, elegance, and contradiction—qualities that align deeply with Saint. It embodies themes of rebirth, transformation, beauty, power, and mourning, making it an evocative symbol for someone who walks the fine line between belonging and being an outsider, between love and duty, between being revered and being feared.

Symbolisms:

1. Mystery & Intrigue

The deep, almost unnatural shade of black makes this flower feel enigmatic and untouchable. It represents something beautiful yet distant, admired but not easily understood. This mirrors how Saint exists in the world—seen as strikingly beautiful, but often feeling like an observer rather than a participant.

2. Elegance & Power

Calla lilies have long been associated with nobility and grace, often used in high-status ceremonies. A black calla lily takes this a step further, symbolizing a commanding presence, quiet strength, and the allure of something untamed. Like Saint, it holds an effortless grandeur, something that demands attention without needing to ask for it.

3. Rebirth & Transformation

The calla lily is often linked to new beginnings, sometimes even resurrection. Black, however, adds a twist—it suggests a transformation through hardship or suffering. Saint, as someone who has been shaped by duty, exile, and struggle, is a living embodiment of this concept. He is both destruction and renewal, like the cycle of a kingdom rising and falling, or a phoenix that chooses to rebuild from its own ashes.

4. Love, But with an Edge

While lilies are associated with devotion and purity, the black calla lily carries a sense of dangerous romance, obsession, or love tinged with darkness. It’s a flower for passion that burns instead of soothes, for love that is all-consuming rather than gentle. This resonates with how Saint is pursued—admired, desired, yet often by those who would cage him rather than cherish him freely.

5. Mourning & Loss

Black flowers often symbolize grief, and the black calla lily is no exception. However, this is not just about mourning death—it’s also about mourning lost time, lost innocence, lost versions of oneself. Saint, with his complicated relationship to his past, his family, and his identity, is someone who carries loss in his bones, even when he smiles through it.

Why Saint is a Black Calla Lily? Saint is not a delicate bloom, meant to be admired and plucked. He is something beautiful but untouchable, powerful but tragic, elegant but edged with sorrow. The black calla lily, with its quiet strength, its beauty wrapped in mourning, and its defiant bloom against the odds, is the perfect reflection of who he is—a figure of both love and loss, grace and rebellion, belonging and isolation.

Like the flower, he is striking and unforgettable, exuding grace while concealing something deeper and more intense beneath the surface. The calla lily is also a funerary flower, which ties into his connection with Set, a god often linked to chaos and renewal. It represents his allure, the weight of his past, and the undeniable force of his presence—both in the world of mortals and gods.

#✟ ⸻ 𝕾𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖙 ⟢ ❨ 𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗔 ❩.#i could argue a thousand ways in which it would be a rose #but even with its motif being all over his blog #i don't think I'd like to go that route; its a bit common

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theshatteredpieces · 8 months ago

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The Present

In the present moment, I find myself in a bind, Struggling to find my place, searching for a sign. The pressures of life weigh heavy on my mind, But I must keep going, leaving the past behind.

Every day is a battle, filled with highs and lows, I try to stay strong, but sometimes it shows. I long for peace, but it seems so out of reach, Yet I hold onto hope, believing I can teach.

In the present moment, I find myself lost. Caught in a web of uncertainty and exhaust. The miseries I have faced loop in my thoughts. Only I know the truth of the wages I’ve fought.

The past and the future, they tug at my mind But in the present, true peace I must find. I search for a way to break free from this cage To live in the moment, to turn the page.

So in the present moment, though I struggle to see, I’ll search for clarity and trust in the journey. Keep pushing forward knowing what I’ve overcome, Through the gift of force from the battles won.

Fight through the hardships, never giving in, For I know deep down, I have the strength within. Face my fears head-on, with courage and grace, Hoping to one day find my rightful place.

I stumble and fall, but I rise once again, Ascending like a phoenix, I know I can mend. My strength and my courage, they begin to grow And in the present, I find solace and flow.

So here in this moment, I choose to stand tall, To embrace the present, to answer the call. For though I may struggle, I know I am free To live this present moment, and truly be me.

#poetry #therapy #mental health #recovery #writing is my therapy #theshatteredpieces #kintsugi

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authorkrysejay · 1 year ago

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Phoenix Awakening Worldbuilding pt2

Phoenix Awakening is a romantic fantasy novel releasing February 2nd 2024 and the first book of the Hiraeth Song series.

The world is separated into five kingdoms and two territories separated by walls and the Alcross Ocean. Magic is represented through gifts and centered around elements.

Gifts in the Kingdom of Terra fall into two categories. Those gifted in botany, soil and nature, and those gifted in relation to the animals living within. Jaguars grace the Terran banners, a symbol of a time before the majority of its people lost the ability to shift into them.

Sustainability is preached first and foremost. Nothing used is wasted. Deceased Terran’s often return to the nature from which they were most closely related. It is hard to cut down a tree that may have been created from the remains of an ancestor without careful consideration of the spirit that passed on/ continued on living in a different form.

The society is built by a caste system in which the family you’re born in decides your title and place. Gifts play a more important role in the lower castes than the higher ones, deciding one's job/ occupation. There is only one High Laird, the title being unisex and one normally born or married into. The Terran Heir/Heiress is the title of their first born. Elders of the higher castes are often seeked for council.

Saris and kurtas are prevalent styles of clothing but the colors, textures and complexities are unique to each caste. Children are raised by their respective caste community and taught to respect the cycle of life at an early age. Reputation and respect are valued qualities. And arranged marriages are common to fortify alliances between families.

Ren Briar is the capital city located deep within the Sargori jungle, created around and within the natural architecture with rising stone temples and houses within massive living trees.

Creating dyes, herbalism, foraging, hunting and farming, while maintaining the balance of the ecosystem, are popular professions. Terra’s major trade items are its excess produce (fruits, vegetables, meat, herbs and spices), and dyes.

Dense forests and jungles along with the neighboring mountain range and access to the Alcross Ocean makes Terran’s terrain and ecosystems the most diverse. There are moderate winters, heat waves in summer and copious amounts of rain in spring.

Terran complexions tend to be shades of olive and brown. Hazel, green and brown eyes are most common in the populace.

#creative writing #indie author #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing #hiraethsong #self publishing #fantasy #elemental magic #fantasy worldbuilding #worldbuilding #fantasy writing

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existentialmagazine · 2 years ago

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Review: The Love Ways new single ‘I’ll See You When’ embodies gritty alt-rock, emphatic indie riffs and an open-ended narrative to unpack

Beginning as a five-piece and crumbling to the ashes of a duo during the pandemic’s fury, the rising phoenix that is The Love Ways find themselves influenced by acts like The Killers, Japandroids, Jimmy Eat World and The Walkmen. With many pre-pandemic tours under their belts, the pair have now turned their efforts to creating in the studio, eager to offer fans a new slice of what the band have to offer. Their most recent singles do this exceptionally, and now gracing everybody with their latest ‘I’ll See You When’ the two-piece are ready to kick back into action and strike while the iron is hot.

A harsh wall of sound hits you right from pressing play on ‘I’ll See You When’ , serving a volatile impact of dominant alternative-rock instrumentals that immediately gets your blood pumping and your adrenaline rising. From thunderous clashing drums to gritty electric guitar strums, this momentary high makes sure you know what you’re getting yourself in for before the opening verse slows to more of ambitiously speeding but paired-back layering of instruments. Carried along by steady tapping drums and an emphatic electric guitar riff that starts more intermittent and grows into a looping addictive slice, this more toned-down verse makes sure that you’re completely gripped on the narrative at hand while the track’s pounding sound pulls you along. Building back into a chorus explosion, the drum beats kick into a storming action before hitting their thunderous peak with a dark electric guitar riff that feels defining of the entire track, encompassing their own hook you can’t get enough of. This ruckus energy continues to thrash along before simmering back down into another atmospheric verse, showcasing both the light and the dark in every ebb and flow of sound weaved into ‘I’ll See You When.’ Their vocalist sings along with a soft but rich depth to his tone, offering the verses more of a spoken-sung tumbling of words before the chorus hoarsely pushes his voice to the max, emotionally soaring through lengthy notes. Just when you think you’ve seen everything ‘I’ll See You When’ has to offer, the bridge dissipates to more of a stripped base of drum beats and a refreshing new riff, progressively collapsing inwards as each instrument atmospherically climbs for one final burst of momentum.

Deliberately complex and mysterious in the story it has to portray, ‘I’ll See You When’ tells a tale that you can’t quite pin down to any one story, instead being built upon by its listeners and their own interpretations of The Love Ways’ vaguely leading lines. Covering themes of self-discovery, introspection, reflection and duality, ‘I’ll See You When’ captures a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings all entangled within loosely conveyed storytelling left for you to depict all on your own. Though it unmistakably has a mass of ways it can be perceived, we found ourselves relating The Love Ways’ words to the unravelling and aftermath of a toxic relationship as the protagonist works their way through letting go. From the opening lyric ‘crossing out the things you never wrote down’ , unsaid words seem to be looping round our protagonist’s head, inferring all the things that they were never told or given closure for and rejecting each one of them for some clarity. In a way left traumatised by what they went through, lines like ‘I can’t remember now or ever’ seem to indicate a depressive regression of their memories, dissociating from reality in a way to cope through the pain. Working through these hardships, they sing ‘set it down, just let it out’, trying to move forward from an obviously scarring experience and encouraging others do the same. As the track closes out with the hard-hitting line ‘a burning house where we can fall asleep’ , it almost seems to end with unanswered questions and an open-ended interpretation of how things have been left. Though the burning flames of a fire are warm and comforting, they’re equally destructive and all-consuming, and as our protagonist falls asleep beside this partner in a home overtaken by a force of unrelenting damage it’s perhaps implied that their never-ending relationship can only ever end in pain.

Check out ‘I’ll See You When’ here to enjoy the tumultuous sound of The Love Ways and their equally intriguing narrative that spills out within!

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

#music #singlereview #theloveways

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baiwu-jinji · 4 years ago

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“Preface to the Prince Teng's Pavilion” by Wang Bo, translation by (*)

Interesting fact about the author Wang Bo (650-676 AD): he was seen as a genius ever since he was little, and the way he writes is that he’d get drunk and lie down for a while, and when he becomes sober he’d have everything he wants to write in mind, and then he’ll write down a whole essay in one go without changing or correcting a word. Too bad that he died very early when he was only 26.

This essay may be too long to read, but for anyone interested, I suggest reading the second paragraph (in bold font) because it’s one of the most beautiful passages in classical Chinese prose.

——————————————————————————————————

Nanchang, which was the capital of Yuzhang Prefecture during the Han Dynasty, now falls under the jurisdiction of Hongzhou. It straddles the border of the influence of the Ye and Zhen constellations (1), and is adjacent to the Heng and the Lu mountains (2). The three rivers (3) enfold it like the front part of a garment (4) and the five lakes encircle it like a girdle (5). Itc ontrols the savage Jing area (6) and connects Ou (7) and Yue (8), and its products are nature’s jewels. The radiance of its legendary sword shoots directly upward between the constellations Niu and Dou (9). Its talented people are outstanding, and the spirit of intelligence pervades the place. This was the place where Xu Ru spent the night on his visit to Chen Fan (10). The mighty Hongzhou spreads out immensely amid the fog, and the intellectual luminaries are as numerous as meteors chasing one another. It borders both the uncultured and the civilized areas, and its host and guests are all prominent people from the East and the South. Under the escort of guard of honor with halberds in their hands, Governor Yan, a man of high repute, comes to attend this event from afar. Prefect Yuwen (11), a model of virtue, stops his carriage on the way to his new appointment. On this official holiday, which falls on every tenth day, good friends gather together, and a galaxy of distinguished guests from distant places fill the hall. Also present at the gathering are Master Meng ,whose literary grace is as imposing as a dragon soaring and a phoenix dancing, and General Wang, who has weapons as sharp as the famous swords “Purple Lightning” and “Blue Frost” in his armory. I, an ignorant boy, have the good fortune to take part in this grand banquet on my journey to visit my father, who is a magistrate of a county.

It is September, the third month of autumn. The puddles on the ground have dried up, and the water in the pond is cool and translucent. At dusk the rays of the setting sun, condensed in the evening haze, turn the mountains purple. In the stately carriages drawn by the horses we make our way ahead, visiting the attractive scenic spot in the mountains. Soon we arrive at the river bank, where the King Teng’s Tower beckons, then we ascend the tower where the fairy once dwelled (12). Ranges upon ranges of green mountain rise as high as the sky. The red glow in the water is the reflection of the richly painted tower that seems hovering in the air. From its heights no land is visible. Circling around are the wild ducks on the sand-bars. Cassia-wood courts and magnolia-wood halls rise and fall like mountain ranges. Pushing open the door carved with decorative patterns, I look down upon endless waves of brightly tinted roof tiles, each elaborately engraved with lovely etchings. A panorama of mountains and plains stretches beneath me, and I am mesmerized by the mighty scene of the winding rivers and big lakes. In the city there are houses everywhere. There are families of great affluence, whose meals are served with many cooking tripods of food and to the accompaniment of music. Massive ships and fierce war vessels are densely moored at the ports. On the sterns of many ships are carved designs of blue birds and brown dragons. The rain has just let up and the rainbow has vanished. The rosy clouds drift alongside the lone goose in the air, and the autumn water is merged with the boundless sky into one hue. The fishermen can be heard singing the evening songs, their voices drifting as far as the banks of the Poyang Lake. Even the wild geese feel the chill of dusk settling upon them, and they cry all the way while flying southward, disappearing around the south bend of the Heng Mountain.

Looking afar and chanting, and then looking downward and singing, I feel a sudden rush of ecstasy soaring up in me. The music of the pan pipe is like a gentle cool breeze. The soft singing lingers on; it is so soothing that even the passing white clouds seem to come to a halt. The gathering here can be compared to the banquet in the bamboo garden hosted by Prince of Xiao of the Liang State (13), and many a guest is a greater drinker than Tao Yuanming (14). It is also like the feast at River Ye where Cao Zhi (15) composed the poem in praise of the lotus flower. Present are many talented scholars who are as gifted as Xie lingyun of Linchuan (16). It is not an easy thing to have four excellent things all at once, that is, good weather, beautiful scenery, full enjoyment and heartfelt happiness, and it is even more difficult to have a generous host and honored guests. I look into the vast expanse of the sky and amuse myself to my heart’s content on this festive day. The sky is high and the land is boundless; I cannot but feel the immensity of the universe. Sadness follows happiness. I am aware that success and failure are predestined. I look into the distance, but Chang’an, the capital of the country, is far beyond the setting sun in the west, and Wuhui (17) is unapproachable somewhere amid the clouds. At the farthest end of the south are the depths of the South Sea, and far away in the north is the pillar that upholds the sky, but the Polestar is still farther. Since the mountains and passes are hard to travel over, who would sympathize with the disappointed ones? The people I meet here are all politically frustrated, drifting together like duckweeds. I pine for the Emperor but am not summoned. How long should I wait before I am called to the court again like Jia Yi (18)?

Alas! I am ill fated, and my life is full of frustrations. Feng Tang grew old quickly (19) and Li Guang had difficulty getting promoted (20). Jia Yi was unjustly exiled to Changsha. Was it because there was no wise emperor on the throne? Liang Hong had to seek refuge at the seaside (21). Was it because there was no good government in his time? Fortunately what supports one is the belief that a man of noble character always contented with his lot. Old as one is, he gains vigor with age and by no means wavers in his aspiration. Poor as one is, he is all the more determined in adversity and by no means gives up his ambition. One keeps his integrity even if he has drunk the water of the spring of Avarice (22) and is cheerful even is he is confronted with misfortune.Though the North Sea is far away, one can still get there with the help of the strong wind. Though the morning is gone, it is not too late to make up the loss in the evening. Meng Chang was noble and honest, but his devotion to the country was futile (23). Ruan Ji was unruly and untrammeled, but he burst out crying when in dire straits (24). How can we learn from him?

I am an insignificant scholar of a low official position and am of the same age as Zhong Jun (25), but unlike him, I have no opportunity to serve in the army. I will follow the example of Ban Chao (26), who threw aside the writing brush to enlist in the armed services and I admire Zong Que (27) who made up his mind to seek a military career by braving the wind and waves. I am determined not to accept the offer of a lifelong government position by wearing a hair dress and holding a tablet before the chest as court officials do. Rather, I will travel thousands of li to go home to wait on my parents, paying respect to them morning and evening. As a son I am not as good as Xie Xuan (28) but in my early years I had the fortune to have men of virtue as my neighbors. In a few days I will be with my father and I will take care of him and receive instructions from him as did Kong Li (29). On this day I have the honor to be invited by Governor Yan to this grand occasion. I am as blissful as if I had leaped over the Dragon’s Gate (30). Since I do not have someone like Yang Yi to recommend me (31), I can only sigh with grief and caress this piece of writing which expresses my lofty aspiration. Now that I have met a bosom friend like Zhong Ziqi (32), why should I be ashamed of presenting this writing of mine?

Ah! A beautiful scenic spot is rarely seen, and a sumptuous banquet like this one is even less likely to be held again. The grand gathering at the Orchid Pavilion (33) is an event in history and the famous Jinggu Garden (34)is now in ruins. I have the good fortune to attend this feast and I would like to leave this farewell message at the time of paring. I count on all the gentlemen here to ascend the tower and contribute their writings. I humbly compose this short piece in all sincerity. Since every one of us is required to write a poem, the following is what I write:

The lofty King Teng’s Tower overlooks the River. The jade pendants (35) tinkle, and the carriage bells jingle.

The banquet’s over, the guests are leaving, and the singing and the dancing have stopped.

In the morn the rosy clouds from the southern shore flit across the painted pillars.

In the eve the rain in the western mountains are drawn in by the red curtains.

The lazy clouds are reflected in the water and the days pass in leisure.

Things change and stars move; how many years have passed since the building of the Tower?

Where is its builder, King Teng? Only the River outside the railing flows to the east all by itself.

Notes:

(1)In old times the sky was divided into 28 constellations, and each constellation had influence on a certain area on the earth. Nanchang was under the influence of the Ye and the Zhen constellations.

(2)The Heng Mountain is located to the southwest of Nanchang and the Lu Mountain to its north.

(3)The three rivers are the Jing, the Song, and the Zhe rivers.

(4)In old times there was a piece of cloth in the upper part of along gown, with which people used to wrap things.

(5)The five lakes are the Tai, the Poyang, the Qingcao, the Danyang, and the Dongting lakes.

(6)The Jing area was the Chu area prior to the Qin Dynasty. It was less developed than the rest of the country.

(7)It now mainly refers to Zhejiang Province.

(8)The name of a kingdom during the Zhou Dynasty (1046B.C.- 256B.C.) , mainly referring to the east of Zhejiang Province, Jiangsu Province, and part of Anhui Province.

(9)It was said that during the Jin Dynasty, there appeared a purple vapor between the Niu and the Dou constellations. Later people discovered a precious sword in Hongzhou.

(10)Xu Ru was a poor scholar in the Eastern Han Dynasty. Despite poverty, he declined to be a government official. When Chen Fan was the prefect of Yuzhang County, he received no guests except Xu Ru, for whom a bed was always prepared in his home.

(11)It refers to Yuwen Jun, who was newly appointed as prefect of Lizhou.

(12)It refers to King Teng’s Power.

(13)Prince of Xiao of the Liang State of the Western Han Dynasty often entertained scholars in the bamboo garden by the Sui River.

(14)Tao Yuanming was the author of “Peach Blossom Spring”.

(15)Cao Cao and his son Cao Zhi often entertained guests by River Ye. Cao Zhi had written a poem in praise of the lotus flowers.

(16)Xie Lingyun was an official in Linchuan Prefecture, Jiangxi Province. Another interpretation is that Wang Xizhi is referred to here, because he was also an official in Linchuan.

(17)Wuhui is today’s City of Suzhou in Jiangsu Province.

(18)During the reign of Emperor Wen of the Han Dynasty, Jia Yi was exiled to Changsha and was called back to the court four years later.

(19)Feng Tang was an official of a low rank in the Han Dynasty. During the reign of Emperor Wu, he was recommended to a high-ranking official. But it was too late, as he was already over ninety and could no longer serve the emperor.

(20)Li Guang, a military man during the reign of Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty. He had performed many military exploits but had never been fully rewarded.

(21)Liang Hong was a scholar during the Eastern Han Dynasty. He wrote a satirical song to criticize the noblemen and offended the emperor. He had to escape to the Qi and the Lu areas, which were near the sea.

(22)It was believed that on the outskirts of Guangzhou there was the Spring of Avarice. People became avaricious after drinking its water.

(23)Meng Chang was an upright official during the Eastern Han Dynasty, but he never got a high position.

(24)Ruan Ji was a scholar in the Wei and the Jin dynasties. He was angry with the rotten politics of his time and often went out in his carriage. When the road was blocked, he would cry and turn back.

(25)Zhong Jun was a young man living in the Western Han Dynasty. He made up his mind to capture the king of the enemy when he was about twenty years of age.

(26)Ban Chao was a scribe during the Eastern Han Dynasty. He later performed military exploits and was rewarded.

(27)Zong Que was a young man during the Southern Dynasty (420-589). When asked what he would do in the future, he answered that he would go to the front and “brave the wind and waves”. Later he became a general.

(28)Xie Xuan, a young man during the Eastern Jin Dynasty. His uncle praised him as “the treasure tree of the Xie family.”

(29)Kong Li was the son of Confucius.

(30)The Dragon’s Gate is a narrow pass in the shape of a gate in the Longmen Mountain where the Yellow River flows through. It was believed that if a carp leaped over the gate, it would turn into a dragon.

(31)Yang Deyi recommends Sima Xiangru, a great poet, to Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty.

(32)Zhong Ziqi, a man living the Spring and Autumn Period. It was said that he was a master in playing the qin, a seven-stringed plucked musical instrument. Bo Ya regarded him as his bosom friend because he understood the music Bo Ya played.

(33)See “Prologue to the Collection of Poems Composed at the Orchid Pavilion”.

(34)See “Entertainment Given in the Peach and Plum Garden on a Spring Evening”.

(35)In old times people wore a jade pendant to the body and it gave a tinkling sound when the person moved.

#chinese literature #my notes #吊书袋的典范

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sullen-roses · 3 years ago

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HOPE IS A STARRESS by A. Rose LeCompte

Let peace commune between us

The Lovers, the Star blesses our bond

Sometimes the Devil appears,

The ego wants control

This Knight too brash, a defense too impotent

Still, I open my ears, my eyes, sheathing my sword

My devotion is the World travelling

Where you share the center of its gravity

I want change of self, I need it

Break patterns that block to my truest path

I know you push me towards it

In earnest and care

This effort is not fruitless dear

I fight the reluctant pride

Like a child in a tantrum

Who should know by now why

She should let go

Which she does understand but can not accept

Fearing to be wrong, pointless

Fearing happiness won’t be met or

Fleeting soon as our lips touch it

I try another attempt, eager to begin again

I do see progress when her arms unfold

Exhausted from the spinning frustration

I touch her hand

“Giving in is not weakness,”

She look to me in silence, slowly opening

Yet from years of rooting in this stance,

She forgotten to walk

On the bedrock of doubt, the child falls

On her bent knees

I must be my own teacher now

Disturb the solid, foul boulder

Shatter into dust

I rub her skin, allowing blood to flow through her veins

Until legs make movement

I, like you Hermit,

Light and carry my lantern

Through the murky unknown

Stretching our feet, wading towards my well

Over hills of memories, through the river of countless tears

So we can see the night sky in the clear

Peering at the Starress winking through

The reflection of my pool

There, the child finds happiness endless

In glass chalices left on pebbles of blush and blue

Dipping our cups in cool, elixir of love that warms our soul

Dripping water over our naked forms,

Cleaning the scars, the wounds

We will cut them open no more

We lay in the soft grass,

Holding each other close,

Touching tête-à-tête

Watching the celestials dance

She will absorb into me, becoming whole once more

Where I wait for you

To taste my heart

To interlock ourselves in the other’s grace

Beauty will be born from our intercourse

As the fierce Sun rises to illuminate

Our dewdrop bodies

Shivering between a symphony of temperature and pleasure

The gates will unlock

Our bridge will strengthen in metals and stone

Our worlds will open wide

A garden to flourish and spread over

Blossoms of trust, sound substance of

Citrus, honey, and supple pomegranates

Feeding our lives nutrients, thriving

The severe knight now transforms

Into the Empress, a balance

Of nourishment and power

I hold my scepter high

Gathering abundance of joy, prosperity

They shine down unto those precious to me

The dragon and phoenix coexist within my being

While Spirit trickles diamonds through my crown, down to my toes

Expanding my domain

Shedding what was never meant to be

Shame, fear, insecurity, a weak devil is left ineffectual

Embracing this victory, smiling, my well brimming of intimacy

My cups ready to give tenderness

For me and for you

I am free.

by A. Rose LeCompte

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doubleattitude · 4 years ago

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24/7 Dance Convention, Reno, NV: RESULTS

High Scores by Age:

Sidekick Solo

1st: Lauralee King-’Bigger Is Better’

2nd: Valentina Segrest-’All Is Found’

3rd: Nyla McCarthy-’Wind It Up’

4th: Nicole Soto-’Shake and Shimmy’

5th: Brecca Garcia-’Day-O’

5th: Kenlee Townsend-’Kill The Lights’

6th: Ayla Zink-’Stop’

7th: Wren Lavery-’Sweet, Sweet’

8th: Paisley Greendandl-’Worldwide Party’

9th: Marley Cliffe-’Dessert’

9th: Greta Jones-’Shake Rattle and Roll’

10th: Malia Tuaileva-’Stupid Cupid’

Mini Solo

1st: Roxie Onellion-’Drifting Down’

2nd: Isabella Kouznetsova-’Almost There’

2nd: Tiara Sherman-’And The Things Remain’

3rd: Harper Ducale-’Change Is Everything’

3rd: Winter Eberts-’Dreamlike’

3rd: Naiya Abalos-’Forces’

3rd: Cali Cassidy-’Weird People’

4th: Paizley Cogswell-’A Moment Apart’

4th: Fiona Wu-’Juliet’s Dream’

4th: Joah Moore-’Mad World’

4th: Regan Gerena-’My Boyfriend’s Back’

4th: Presley Nava-’Pure Imagination’

4th: Delilah Hewitt-’Shop Around’

5th: Peyton Nowacki-’Angels To Fly’

5th: Kylie Lawrence-’Breathe In’

5th: Tatum Brady-’Fall Creek’

5th: Everleigh Soutas-’Heartbeat’

5th: Olivia Armstrong-’Hit Me With A Hot Note’

5th: Kate Baker-’I’ll Stand By You’

5th: Aria Du-’Reddir’

5th: Elizabeth Hsu-Kwan-’Ruin’

6th: Diana Jouznetsova-’It’s In His Kiss’

6th: Hadlee Heriford-’Unbroken’

7th: Tabitha Nan-’Torn’

7th: June Newmarker-’What A Feeling’

8th: Zoey German-’On My Own’

8th: Elliana Anbardan-’Runway Walk’

8th: Joy Lin-’This Is Me’

9th: Rory Frye-’Amen’

9th: Aurora Brady-’Hit The Road Jack’

9th: Reagan Nordling-’Lemon of Pink’

10th: Khloe Kwon-’Black Pink!’

10th: Aubrey Tolentino-’Footwurkin’

10th: Holland Fraley-’Torn’

Junior Solo

1st: Gracyn French-’CoverGirl’

2nd: Laci Stoico-’Mibiso’

3rd: Makaia Roux-’Everything I Wanted’

4th: Mya Tuaileva-’Can’t Unhear’

4th: Kortlynn Rosenbaugh-’Unearthed’

5th: Hayden Olson-’Breathe’

5th: Lincoln Blakely-’What I Came to Do’

5th: Kendyl Fay-’You’ll Find A Way’

5th: Madison Ortega-’Island Song

6th: Campbell Clark-’I’ll Be Seeing You’

6th: Kylee Ngo-’Ex machina’

6th: Ciana Ciulla-’Sophrosyne’

6th: Madison Ronquillo-’White Ferrari’

6th: Rylee Young-’Lullaby’

7th: Bella Fernandez-’She Was Running’

7th: Kendall Jundt-’Awakening’

7th: Leighton Werner-’The Rose’

8th: Gigi Hipwell-’Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word’

8th: Abbi Francis-’Feel It Still’

8th: Sienna Brown-’Ballroom Blitz’

8th: Natalie Kulba-’Ascending’

8th: Stella Eberts-’Valley’

8th: Campbell Bas-’Silhouette’

9th: Anabel Alexander-’Plans We Made’

9th: Lena Chiem-’Grand Piano’

9th: Anya Inger-’Quiet Thoughts’

10th: Sunnie Pelant-’No Place Like Home’

Teen Solo

1st: Dyllan Blackburn-’Haunted’

2nd: Kaitlyn Tom-’Charity Bound’

2nd: Luke Barrett-’Eden’

2nd: Carley Thinfen-’Self Destruction’

2nd: Elle O’Donnell-’Slowly’

2nd: Imogene Elias-’Timer’

3rd: Zoe Ridge-’A Thousand Eyes’

3rd: Katy McIlwaine-’Heavy’

3rd: Cydney Heard-’I’m Going In’

3rd: Ava DeCristofaro-’Letting In’

3rd: Isabella Warfield-’Nicest Thing’

3rd: Jenna Koblin-’Ultralight Beam’

4th: Kaitlyn Ortega-’All Human Beings’

4th: Sami Sonder-’Fever’

4th: Brooklyn Sandlin-’Hollow’

4th: Siena Riga-’Naked’

4th: Mason Walker-’Touch’

5th: Ali McKeown-’All I Ask’

5th: Lilly McCollum-’Control’

5th: Raina Wu-’Looking In’

5th: Kamryn Webb-’Take Me Out’

6th: Mikaella Lopez-’Mind In Flight’

6th: Dayanara Vega-’Skin’

6th: Amanda J. Lai-’The Journey, Not The Destination’

6th: Zuzu Duchon-’Twelfth of Never’

6th: Riley Cooke-’Yellow’

6th: Aiden Boquiren-’You Will Be Found’

7th: Olivia Magni-’Moonlight Sonata’

7th: Sebastian Hsu-Kwan-’My Identity’

7th: Julissa Ortiz-’Never Knock’

7th: Felix Fulton-’Rome’

8th: Tiffany Robinson-’Human Touch’

8th: Milana Zamora-’Hypnosis’

8th: Ellyana Lor-’Rise of the Phoenix’

8th: Zoey Garcia-’Slappers’

8th: Claire Kaplan-’Suspended’

8th: Avery Reyes-’The Garden’

9th: Bella Machado-’Everybody Got Their Something’

9th: Aaliyah Wiley-’If I Ain’t Got You’

10th: Tyler Chiyuto-’Glitch’

10th: Deanna Zarkova-’Love Song’

10th: Gabbie Carrozza-’Unbroken’

Senior Solo

1st: Zach Burk-’2/21/21′

1st: Selena Hamilton-’Keep an Eye Out’

2nd: Kendall Pangburn-’Secret’

2nd: Anna Miller-’50 Ways’

2nd: Perris Amento-’Addicted to Love’

3rd: Charlotte Foldes-’Shock To Us All’

3rd: Priscilla Tom-’The Blues’

3rd: Milan Furtado-’Peace of Mind’

4th: Gianna Van Den Bosch-’Feel’

4th: Shane Higa-’Superpower’

4th: Camille Fehr-’Till Now’

5th: Kadynce Ross-’Findings’

5th: Kaylee Feierfeil-’Lasting Lover’

5th: Amanda Taylor-’What Is Happening To Me’

5th: Kacie De La Rose-’What’s Poppin’

6th: Lauren Wallingford-’Entanglement’

6th: Izzy Burton-’For All We Know’

6th: Kolton Cross-’Get Your Head In The Game?’

6th: Reese Taylor-’Pink’

6th: Madeline Underwood-’Power of Love’

7th: Mia Hurtz-’Don’t Worry About Me’

7th: John Mays-’Kash’

7th: Amara Tedford-’Stand By Me’

7th: Bianca Capanna-’Unchained Melody’

8th: Grace Glass-’All My Friends’

8th: Stella von Borck-’Hater’

9th: Christina Laude-’Black Ships’

9th: Hanna Clark-’Close To You’

9th: Galilee Nelson-’Everything I Wanted’

9th: Kaitlyn Hong-’I Try’

9th: Cassie Brown-’Ransom’

9th: Delaney Davis-’Shades of Cool’

10th: Noelani Kreider-’Fade’

10th: Alivia Elliot-’My Mistake’

10th: Makenna Bilodeaux-’Oops’

10th: Mallory Davis-’Put It On Me’

Mini Duo/Trio

1st: HYPE Dance Studio-’American Boy’

2nd: Project 21-’I Am The Cute One’

3rd: Pave School of The Arts-’Blow’

3rd: Sweaty Shelly Natomas Dance and Fitness-’Everybody Dance Now’

Junior Duo/Trio

1st: Dance Unlimited Boise-’Me and My Shadow’

2nd: Yoko’s Dance and Performing Arts Academy-’Bring You Home’

3rd: Creative Edge Dance Studio-’Chapstick’

Teen Duo/Trio

1st: DNA Dance Collective-’Tapout’

2nd: Pave School of The Arts-’Amen’

3rd: Dance Attack!-Los Gatos-’Dive In The Water’

Senior Duo/Trio

1st: Elite Studio of Dance-’Layers’

2nd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Woman’

3rd: Core Connection Dance Company-’Take Over’

Sidekick Group

1st: Echo School of Dance-’It’s My Party’

2nd: Echo School of Dance-’Tonight Belongs To You’

3rd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Hard Knock Life’

Mini Group

1st: Project 21-’Fan Tan Fannie’

2nd: Pave School of The Arts-’Swine’

2nd: Elite Studio of Dance-’We Go To Work’

3rd: Echo School of Dance-’We Comin’

Junior Group

1st: Project 21-’Stuff Like That There’

2nd: Project 21-’No Fear But Anticipation’

3rd: Project 21-’Wegue’

Teen Group

1st: Project 21-’Girls, Girls, Girls’

2nd: Project 21-’Bring On The Men’

3rd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Stand Up’

Senior Group

1st: Project 21-’We Can, We Will’

2nd: Elite Studio of Dance-’SR HH”

3rd: HYPE Dance Studio-’Silence’

Sidekick Line

1st: HYPE Dance Studio-’ABC’

2nd: HYPE Dance Studio-’We Got The Beat’

Mini Line

1st: Project 21-’Dive In The Pool’

2nd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Drip or Down’

2nd: Pave School of The Arts-’The List’

3rd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Candy Man’

Junior Line

1st: Project 21-’Proud Mary’

2nd: HYPE Dance Studio-’Get Up Off That Thang’

3rd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Lost On You’

Teen Line

1st: Project 21-’Post That’

2nd: HYPE Dance Studio-’Can U Feel The Beat’

2nd: Dance Attack!-Los Gatos-’Never Be Mine’

2nd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Nine One Six’

2nd: Project 21-’The Dictator’s Dream’

3rd: California Dance Company-’Back Alley’

Senior Line

1st: Dance Attack!-Los Gatos-’Next To You’

2nd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Did Something Bad’

3rd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Fergalicious’

Teen Extended Line

1st: Project 21-’Desoleil’

2nd: HYPE Dance Studio-’Pressure’

High Scores by Performance Division:

Sidekick Jazz

1st: Echo School of Dance-’Tonight Belongs To You’ 2nd: HYPE Dance Studio-’We Got The Beat’ 2nd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Yankee Doodle Dandee’

Sidekick Hip-Hop

1st: Echo School of Dance-’It’s My Party’ 2nd: HYPE Dance Studio-’ABC’

Sidekick Tap

Elite Studio of Dance-’Hard Knock Life’

Mini Jazz

1st: Project 21-’Dive In The Pool’ 2nd: Pave School of The Arts-’Swine’ 3rd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Candy Man’

Mini Hip-Hop

1st: Elite Studio of Dance-’Drip or Down’ 2nd: Elite Studio of Dance-’We Go To Work’ 3rd: Echo School of Dance-’We Comin’

Mini Tap

1st: Elite Studio of Dance-’Mr. Postman’ 2nd: Elite Studio of Dance-’What You Want’ 3rd: Sweaty Shelly Natomas Dance and Fitness-’Pennies from Heaven’

Mini Contemporary

1st: Pave School of The Arts-’The List’ 2nd: Echo School of Dance-’Warrior’

Mini Lyrical

1st: Elite Studio of Dance-’Wind Beneath My Wings’ 2nd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Somewhere We Know’ 3rd: Core Connection Dance Company-’Somewhere Only We Know’

Mini Musical Theatre

Project 21-’Fan Tan Fannie’

Junior Jazz

1st: Project 21-’Proud Mary’ 2nd: Project 21-’Stuff Like That There’ 3rd: HYPE Dance Studio-’You Got The Look’

Junior Ballet

Denisa’s School of Dance-’Warrior’

Junior Hip-Hop

1st: Echo School of Dance-’Swagg Out’ 2nd: HYPE Dance Studio-’Diamond Block’

Junior Tap

1st: HYPE Dance Studio-’Get Up Off That Thang’ 2nd: Sweaty Shelly Natomas Dance and Fitness-’Don’t Want To Dance Alone’ 2nd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Dear Future Husband’

Junior Contemporary

1st: Project 21-’No Fear But Anticipation’ 2nd: HYPE Dance Studio-’How Will I Know’ 3rd: Sweaty Shelly Natomas Dance and Fitness-’All I Know’

Junior Specialty

1st: Project 21-’Wegue’ 2nd: Sweaty Shelly Natomas Dance and Fitness-’Night Fight’

Teen Jazz

1st: Project 21-’Bring On The Men’ 1st: Project 21-’Post That’ 2nd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Diva’ 3rd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Show Me’

Teen Ballet

Elite Studio of Dance-’Counterpoise’

Teen Hip-Hop

1st: HYPE Dance Studio-’Pressure’ 2nd: HYPE Dance Studio-’Can U Feel The Beat’ 2nd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Nine One Six’ 3rd: California Dance Company-’Back Alley’

Teen Tap

1st: Dance Attack!-Los Gatos-’Sir Duke’ 2nd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Just Fine’ 3rd: HYPE Dance Studio-’Beggin’

Teen Contemporary

1st: Project 21-’Girls, Girls, Girls’ 1st: Project 21-’Desoleil’ 2nd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Stand Up’ 3rd: Project 21-’The Dictator’s Dream’ 3rd: Dance Attack!-Los Gatos-’Never Be Mine’

Teen Lyrical

California Dance Company-’Amen’

Teen Musical Theatre

Sweaty Shelly Natomas Dance and Fitness-’Shaking The Blues Away’

Teen Ballroom

Dance Attack!-Los Gatos-’Baila’

Senior Jazz

Elite Studio of Dance-’Lip Gloss’

Senior Hip-Hop

1st: Elite Studio of Dance-’SR HH” 2nd: Core Connection Dance Company-’Bay Area’

Senior Tap

1st: Elite Studio of Dance-’Fergalicious’ 2nd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Bad Guy’

Senior Contemporary

1st: Project 21-’We Can, We Will’ 2nd: Dance Attack!-Los Gatos-’Next To You’ 3rd: Elite Studio of Dance-’Did Something Bad’

Senior Jazz

Elite Studio of Dance-’Lip Gloss’

11 O’Clock:

Sidekick

Echo School of Dance-’It’s My Party’

HYPE Dance Studio-’ABC’

Elite Studio of Dance-’Hard Knock Life’

Mini

Project 21-’Dive In The Pool’

Pave School of The Arts-’The List’

Elite Studio of Dance-’Drip or Down’

Junior

Sweaty Shelly Natomas Dance and Fitness-’All I Know’

HYPE Dance Studio-’Get Up Off That Thang’

Project 21-’Proud Mary’

Elite Studio of Dance-’Lost On You’

Teen

Dance Attack!-Los Gatos-’Never Be Mine’

Echo School of Dance-’Da Girl Gang’

California Dance Company-’Back Alley’

HYPE Dance Studio-’Pressure’

Elite Studio of Dance-’Stand Up’

Project 21-’Girls, Girls, Girls’

Senior

Dance Attack!-Los Gatos-’Next To You’

Elite Studio of Dance-’Did Something Bad’

HYPE Dance Studio-’Silence’

Echo School of Dance-’I Lost A Friend’

Core Connection Dance Company-’Heartless’

Project 21-’We Can, We Will’

Studio Showcase:

Sweaty Shelly Natomas Dance and Fitness-’Untouchable’

Project 21-’Girls, Girls, Girls’

HYPE Dance Studio-’Pressure’

Elite Studio of Dance-’Stand Up’

Echo School of Dance-’I Lost A Friend’

Core Connection Dance Company-’Heartless’

#reno #nevada #24/7 #dance #2021

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lordmomohismomoness · 5 years ago

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Here are my top Zutara fanfiction recs.

The biggest factor in my ranking and why I recommend them is because I had a hard time putting them down. Other than that, they are pretty all over the place in terms of content and setting.

His Majesty Prefers Blue by Shamelessliar

Rated M 212K+ words Completed 2012

A year after the war's end, the gaang returns to the Fire Nation for a week of diplomatic meetings. There, they hear rumors about a vigilante who wears a blue mask and Katara finds herself digging deeper into his identity and motives. Blue/Zutara Lemons

Trigger warnings: rape, torture (1 scene)

This is my absolute favorite fic. It has a little bit of everything: romance, humor, drama, suspense. There is an actual plot too! It is also one of few fics which show Zuko and Katara being a great team.

When The Mask Comes Off by Jamie Hasaku

Rated K 73K+ words Completed 2006

After freeing her and her friends from capture, Zuko has no choice but to care for a gravely injured Katara, who was left behind by accident. The trick? Keeping his face hidden so she doesn’t hurt herself even more by trying to fight him. Zutara Blutara

This is not your average capture fic. Katara is still pretty badass. The scene where she finds out who is behind the mask made my heart melt. Hanae is one of my favorite OCs ever! It does have a sequel which has been abandoned, but that doesn't change the fact that this story is wonderful by itself.

The Dragon and the Siren (AO3) The Dragon and the Siren (ff.net) by CultofStrawberry

Rated M/T 147K+ words Completed 2012

Zutara, Hades x Persephone inspired. In a land of gods and spirits, Katara is the daughter of the Sea, and Zuko is the powerful and reclusive God of the Fire Realms. Zuko has been pining for her for too long... so he finally takes action.

Being a huge fan of Greek mythology and A:TLA, I did not think I would enjoy this fic. I was pleasantly surprised as the author combined the two seamlessly. The worldbuilding is amazing and the tale is not an exact replica of the myth. The AO3 link contains smut, but is incomplete. The fanfiction link has the completed story.

Subterfuge by Smylealong

Rated M 113K+ words WIP last updated Oct 2020

Thirty years ago, the Fire Nation attacked, throwing the world off balance. Katara entered the Fire Nation war camp at Ba Sing Se as a healer, prepared to do whatever it takes to play her part in stopping the war. Getting kidnapped with the Fire Prince and falling in love with him were not parts of the plan. AU. Zutara.

Trigger Warnings: Sexual Assault, Incest, Graphic Depiction of Violence

This fic is VERY dark. However, the writing is amazing which more than makes up for it.

Dancing in the Dark by DamageCtrl

Rated T 61K+ words Complete 2006

Post-Season 2 AU: While in Ba Sing Se, Katara and Toph hear a rumor about two tea servers in the lower tiers of Ba Sing Se and sneak away go to investigate only to have their suspicions confirmed. On her personal time, Katara tries to teach herself to dance and fails so badly, a masked man takes pity on her to try to help.

In case you haven't noticed, I LOVE the Blue Spirit. This fic is full of fluff, and awkward Zuko is my favorite Zuko. It does start slow, but once you get into it, it is a pretty cute story. Zuko is the one with multiple suitors for once.

Twist Me to the Left by Grapefruittwostep

Rated T 91K+ words Complete 2017

So here Zuko is, with no family, no band, and no more record contract. Just another punker with a guitar who thinks he's got what it takes. Then he meets Avatar, the band breaking all the rules. They've got everything going for them, the rising star, and they're everything Zuko isn't. But maybe, just maybe, they want a new guitarist. As long as the pretty keyboardist with the blue eyes doesn't murder Zuko first.

Warnings: References to Drugs

This is a college age AU with an angsty emo/punk Zuko. A fluffy enemies to lovers trope, but fun nonetheless.

Don't Stand So Close To Me by Cinemascope08

Rated M 76K+ words Abandoned 2013

Katara and the Gaang are in full swing at Ba Sing Se University when interactions with a new professor start affecting Katara's life in increasingly complicated ways. Rated M for scenes of a graphic nature.

Trigger Warning: Torture, Murder, BDSM, Incest

Another really dark fic, but it takes a bit to get there. Once it does, you are hooked by the suspense. It is abandoned, but still a good read.

So let us melt and make no noise by LittleLostStar

Rated M 69K+ words WIP last updated Jan 2021

When a mission to the South Pole goes awry, Prince Zuko awakens in the home of a healer named Katara and finds his heart is damaged and his bending has vanished. His quest to find the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe is his destiny-- the one chance to regain his honour and return home. But as time passes and Zuko's heart heals, it becomes clear that Katara is protecting an ancient secret of her own, and that both of their destinies are entwined in ways never before thought possible.

We get to see Zuko at the mercy of Katara here. And this fic has an actual plot to it, which is an easy way to get into my good graces. There is a lot of mystery and suspense. It has slow updates, but the author has commented that she intends to complete it.

Butterflies and Hurricanes by Rerbirth of the Phoenix

Rated T 103K+ words Complete 2012

"You may find yourself capturing hearts that you are forbidden to keep." She is a servant. He is a Prince. Together they are about to go against everything that keeps the world at peace. Zutara

This one took me a bit to get into, as I was bothered by the ages at the start. Fortunately, it takes place over several years so we see the relationship develop. No spoilers, but wow the ending really got me.

The Penance Series by delectate

Rated M 39K+ words Complete 2010

The road to forgiveness is long and arduous...just ask Zuko. Season 3 Zutara, following the episodes past 312. Rated M for Mature.

Warnings: BDSM

Zuko is taken prisoner at the western air temple. As it turns out, Zuko is a masochist and Katara lets her freak flag fly. I like this one because it does such a different take on the characters, and it actually makes sense that Zuko would be a masochist since he has such a messed up family.

Lotus Lake by Rebirth of the Phoenix

Rated T 65K+ words Complete 2006

Zutara AU. An orphaned Katara and her brother find themselves at boarding school. Katara's first thoughts are that her life will now be filled with boredom. How wrong she was!

Trigger Warnings: Child Abuse

This is a bonus rec. While not super high on my list, it is still an enjoyable story. Plus, I really like the boarding school premise since I love shows like Rebelde and Het Huis Anubis. I would have liked to see more drama with Jet though. Still a good one if you are looking for fluff.

I added some more to my top recs!

Indigo Summer by Serendipitea

Rated T 21K words Complete 2020

Zuko takes up a life guarding job the summer before going off to university. What he doesn't expect is to be completely distracted by the surfer girl with bright blue eyes.

This one is just so darn cute

And expectations she won't meet by Gxldentrio

Rated T 8K words Completed 2020

Katara’s organic chemistry TA is an asshole ----- or is he?

A texting/social media fic that I reread all the time because it is just that GOOD! I love the way the author uses all the character's interactions to tell a cohesive story.

(if my wishes came true) it would have been you by TheDecension

Rated T 34K words WIP Last updated Mar 2021

Katara overshares on the internet. Zuko makes it a point to only lurk. Good thing there's nothing tying their online adventures to their real lives — right?

Or, Katara and Zuko have something of a history, and when they reconnect after months of silence, there could be more going on behind the scenes than they realize.

If you haven't heard of this one, you should! It is though social media posts and text, and it is just wonderful!

#zutara #zuko/katara #zuko x katara #zuko #katara #avatar the last airbender #avatar #fanfic #fanfic rec #fanfiction #atla

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punk-of-the-opera · 4 years ago

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I’m going to show you my absolute favorite passage from Susan Kay’s Phantom. It might not be the most amazing writing, but it really resonated with me the first time I read it. I’m just going to throw a trigger warning on here because the passage is kind of dark.

The last thing I expected to hear, in this windswept oasis high above the streets, was the sound of her voice in harmony with his.

Is this how You answer the prayers of the penitent, God?

Is this how You reward repentance and welcome home the prodigal son?

I came to hear Your voice and instead You choose to mock me with theirs, to show me that there is to be no divine intercessions on my behalf, no mercy, no last little miracle. My infamous crimes have set vengeance and have set me quite beyond the pale of Your forgiveness... all You wanted was vengeance upon me for those years of iniquitous blasphemy!

Well, now that You've had Your vengeance in full measure, are You satisfied? Are You satisfied, God?

Oh, yes, I believe in You... I've always believed in You! You're so infinitely cold and cruel, You simply have to exist. I've seen enough of Your handiwork in my time, and it knocks my malice into palest insignificance by comparison. Floods and earthquakes, sickness and famine, crippled adults, mutilated children... and still we come like ingenuous fools to pray to you for Your help in time of need! It's laughable, really... quite pathetic! God is love! Hysterically funny! Say rather that God is an idle itinerant, too feckless to care what happens on an earth created for the sole purpose of providing amusement on a rainy day!

What were You doing, for instance, all those months that I lay festering in my mother's womb? Were You perhaps in divine hibernation... taking a holiday... experimenting?

Well, whatever it was, You had a nasty shock when I appeared, didn't You? You didn't have the grace to admit You'd lost grip of things, nodded off for a moment and made a damned botch of it in consequence! We're not permitted to say that God makes mistakes, are we?-merely that He works in mysterious ways! Oh, God, what a charlatan You are! You're an amateur... You never had any training, did You, never submitted You master's piece for inspection... never had any competition!

You couldn't bestir Yourself to help Your own Son when He cried out to You on the cross! So why should You care now about the crucifixion of a monster?

(page 407 to 408)

[Section break, less than a page of something that has nothing to do with the story]

An intolerable burden...

You've brought me full circle haven't You, God? Right back to that moment all those years ago when I knew I had to run away.

Only, this time it's she who will run- run away from me as though I were some loathsome, slavering beast, an animal who can't be trusted to behave like a gentleman and do the decent thing. Oh, it wasn't the kiss that hurt beyond bearing... strangely there was a painful beauty in watching her in his embrace. If I really were her father, it would surely be a joy to see a worthy young man so passionately in love with my dearest child.

No, it wasn't that kiss which betrayed me, but the cruel and careless trick with which she intends to win her freedom. She promised to come back. She promised! And she lied! That is the final anguish... the knowledge that she doesn't care enough to put me out of my misery, that she's not even going to tell me. She's just going to run away with him and never give me another thought. She must hate me very much to do that. Strange- I never guessed that she really hated me; I must have made a damned good actress of her in the course of her tuition.

I'd like to die now. Right now, this very minute! I'd welcome the last convulsion of this tired and sluggish muscle in my chest, but by some incredible irony my heart is beating with curious serenity, as though it's never known a single moment's transgression.

So what are You up to, God? What cruel perverse little jest have You left to play? Surely You're not going to inflict a miracle cure and deny me the right to be struck down after this!

You denied me life- will You deny me death too? Is that to be the punishment for my unspeakable crimes against humanity- another twenty years of penal solitude upon this earth?

Beneath my towering pinnacle Paris spreads out in all its splendor, a multitude of lights flickering along Haussmann's neatly regimented boulevards. Nothing could survive that dizzying drop. All they'd find would be a smashed red pulp in dress clothes, unrecognizable... unidentifiable.

I have only to let go...

Suicide... the ultimate sin, the one crime we are never given the opportunity to confess. Thieves and murderers may enter heaven, but the suicide, never receiving absolution, is unable to die in a state of grace and must burn forever.

So that's why You brought me up here, God! You thought I'd be stupid enough to fall into Your trap! One rash act of folly on my part and You would have been spared the loathsome necessity of gazing upon Your ugly miscreation throughout eternity!

Well... I don't need You. I never needed You! There is a greater Master yet, one who remains loyal, even to a backsliding apprentice... a Master who reminds me even now that my indentures to him were never broken... merely postponed.

I am not forsaken! I'm no longer alone in the darkness! Before my eyes I see a thousand little devils lighting black candles along the path which leads me toward the edge... the blindingly beautiful edge.

Love is a scorpion's paralyzing poison, but now a thousand little mouths are sucking it steadily from my veins, emptying my mind and preparing a black void to receive the Master's presence. I feel the grief receding, dispersing beneath the rage which is mushrooming out inside me like some monstrous fungus. All the evil in the world has been let loose tonight, whipped up into a mighty cyclone and irresistibly directed toward the high peak of Apollo's lyre... drawn to my brain like lightning to a conductor.

A cold breeze stirs my cloak, sends it billowing out around me like the wings of the Angel of Death, as I lift my head slowly to look upon my Master's awesome power and hear his solemn promise.

Beyond the edge there is no pain.

Beyond the edge you will be reborn in the glory of darkness.

Rise up and follow me...

Feeding on the putrefied remains of love, I have completed the final process of metamorphosis, swollen and blossomed uncontrollably into a mighty, all-powered shade of hell.

All that remains to be done is for me to tear through the chrysalis of morality and reveal the ravening black-winged creature that lusts to live.

A dark and towering shadow, rising like the phoenix from the ashes... malevolent... omnipotent...

The Phantom of the Opera!

(page 408 to 410)

#i feel really stupid resonating with this :/#it makes me sound emo and edgy but I feel like if you knew me irl you'd know #poto #phantom of the opera #The Phantom of the Opera #susan kay #susan kay phantom #tw #tw dark content

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sylvanfreckles · 4 years ago

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“Who Are You?” (FebuWhump 12)

Fandom: Ace Attorney Summary: Edgeworth confronts Wright, who's just lost his attorney's license due to falsified evidence. Edgeworth folded his arms, feeling the old familiar coldness creeping into his eyes. “You know, I've called you a lot of things over the years. I never thought the day would come that I called you a coward.”

(Also available on AO3!)

* * *

Poetically, it was raining that day. Edgeworth stared up at the sign, which had been hastily covered with a drop cloth, and swiftly made his way up the stairs to the small door of what had, until recently, been the Wright and Co law office.

The door was cracked, and in the room beyond he could hear the high-pitched voice of a young child. Edgeworth frowned. He'd only just gotten word that Wright's attorney's license had been suspended...did he somehow still have a client?

“...and these are the magic rings. My first daddy knew seven tricks with them, but I only know five. I know I can get there with practice...maybe I'll be able to do eight!”

Inside the office, Wright was sitting on the battered green sofa he'd kept for clients. He'd crammed some disgusting old beanie on his head to hide his hair, and was wearing a threadbare sweatshirt instead of his usual suit. There was a small girl with him—not the usual one, the little spirit medium who loved samurai movies. She was in an unusual costume of some sort, and kept tugging props out of the various boxes scattered around the office.

“Wright.” Edgeworth didn't bother announcing himself any more than that. Wright jerked in his seat and stared up at him, something close to panic in his dark eyes.

“Edgeworth? What are you doing here?”

“Hey, I'm supposed to give the introductions!” the little girl complained. She did a complicated pirouette, pulled her top hat off her little head and with an ear-splitting bang sent a cloud of sparks and smoke wafting up. “Welcome to the Wright Anything Agency!”

“Trucy, we're not an agency,” Wright wearily said from the couch.

“Right now we only offer a magic act,” the little girl—Trucy—explained. “We're always looking for more talent, though.”

“And who are you?” He'd never been good with kids, but this one seemed to be fearless. At least she hadn't burst into tears or run away at the sound of his voice.

“That's Trucy,” Wright explained. “She's...”

“I'm his daughter!” Trucy explained cheerfully.

“Daughter?” Edgeworth raised his eyebrows and stared at Wright.

Wright sighed. “It's a long story. Hey, Trucy, why don't you go get lunch? The noodle cart will be here any minute.”

Trucy pumped her tiny fists in the air and pelted out the door, chanting about noodles the entire time. Edgeworth stared after her for a moment then turned back to Wright, raising his eyebrows again. “Noodles? Don't children need more nutritious food?”

“Eldoon gives them to her for free if she shows him a magic trick,” Wright explained. He started shifting around the piles of stage props to clear a space on the couch. Though he needn't have bothered...Edgeworth wasn't planning on staying.

“I heard about the case.”

Wright gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I'm sure everyone has. The great Phoenix Wright falls from grace. No rising from the ashes this time.”

He wasn't very good at comforting people, or cheering someone up. Edgeworth stuck his hands in his pocket, fingers tracing the edge of the envelope he'd tucked away. “What are you going to do?”

“Well, convince Trucy that we're not gonna open some kind of talent agency for starters,” Wright said. He grinned up at Edgeworth, but the smile was lacking so much of Wright's usual infuriating confidence that it was almost sickening. “My uncle said he can take us in for a while, if I agree to work for him. It's factory work, but it's better than nothing.”

Edgeworth's fingers tightened around the envelope. “You're giving up?”

“What can I do?” Wright spread his arms helplessly. “I was caught with counterfeit evidence. It doesn't matter that I didn't know what it was, or that it was some kind of setup. That's it. I'm done. The only reason we're even here is because the lease isn't due until the end of the month, then after that we're out. I came by to figure out what to do with the files—it's not like my uncle has room for all this stuff.”

Well, this was as good a time as any. Edgeworth pulled the envelope out of his pocket and thrust it at his old friend. “Here. This is for you.”

Wright's face darkened. “I won't take your charity.”

“Don't be an idiot,” Edgeworth snapped. “This is a gift.”

“No.” The disgraced attorney pushed up to his feet and turned away. “I don't need your money, Miles.”

“Like hell you don't.” Edgeworth shoved his way further into the room, moving in front of Wright to block his way. “You just lost everything you worked for. Your job, your pride, your reputation...and on top of that you apparently have a child to care for? And your only thought is to run away and betray everything you've ever cared about?”

Fury twisted Wright's features and he shoved Edgeworth back. “You don't know anything about it,” he hissed. “You weren't even in the country when it happened. You could have vouched for me, given me a character witness, anything.”

“You know I came back as soon as I could.”

“Not soon enough.” Wright shoved him again and turned away, one hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Dammit, Edgeworth, I thought...”

“You thought I would rescue you.”

“I thought it would mean something!” Wright spun around again and flung his arms wide, encompassing the room in one sweeping gesture. “All the cases, all the innocents I've protected and the villains I've put away...all of that just thrown out because of one mistake on a case I wasn't supposed to take?”

Edgeworth didn't reply. He could see Wright's perspective, but there was so much more to the story than that. It wasn't just a simple mistake he'd made, he'd accepted disreputable evidence from an unknown source and presented it to the court without trying to verify it first. Even so, Edgeworth had seen the files from that case...that forgery had been too perfect. Someone had tipped off the prosecution.

“So that's it,” Wright said after a few seconds. “I'm done.”

The prosecutor stared at the other man for a few long moments. “You're giving up?”

Wright shrugged.

Edgeworth folded his arms, feeling the old familiar coldness creeping into his eyes. “You know, I've called you a lot of things over the years. I never thought the day would come that I called you a coward.”

Wright's head snapped around. “You can't-”

“I can and I will,” Edgeworth interrupted. “I didn't realize you lost your dignity with your badge. The Phoenix Wright I know—the Phoenix Wright I counted on, time and time again—wouldn't just give up at the first sign of trouble.”

“They disbarred me, Edgeworth.”

“Then fight them!” Edgeworth caught Wright on the shoulder and pushed him back until the other man was pinned to the wall. “Regaining your license to practice won't be easy, but you can do it. And in the meantime you have other skills—all those turnabouts you pulled in the courtroom, all the ways you saw through the lies to the truth, they didn't come from your attorney's badge.” He poked Wright in the chest, hard enough that the other man flinched. “That was all from you.”

Wright didn't reply, and after a moment Edgeworth released him an spun away. “The money is a gift,” he called over his shoulder. “If you won't accept it you might as well burn it, but you'll need something to start your little talent agency.”

He swept out the door before Wright could answer, nodding to Trucy when the little girl came running up to the office with a pair of takeout noodle boxes clutched in her arms.

Back in his car, Edgeworth pulled out his phone and dialed his office before he got back on the road. “Tell Prosecutor Gavin I wish to speak with him,” he told his assistant when the woman answered. “I have a few questions about one of his cases.”

* * *

FYI: Trucy tried desperately to add "spirit medium" to the Wright Anything Agency's roster, but Maya eventually convinced her that it wasn't proper to sell off her family abilities like that. Phoenix was half convinced she was just jealous she hadn't thought of it first.

#febuwhump 2021 #febuwhump #febuwhump day 12 #who are you #ace attorney #fic #fanfic #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #trucy wright #angst #friendship #miles edgeworth is bad at feelings

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charlieweasleyxmc · 5 years ago

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Patronus

The spring evening weather was just cool enough that (Y/N) wished she had grabbed a sweater on their way down to the Three Broomsticks. The sun had just set and the sky was darkening fast.

Bill would glance over at her every so often, occasionally practicing his ‘surprised face’ as he did so. She nodded at him to reassure him, though secretly she thought they were all terrible. It was a good thing indeed that Bill didn’t need to lie for a living.

To be fair, it was her and Charlie’s loud whispering that had given away the secret.

It suddenly made her incredibly worried that other times they had whispered could have been overheard. She tried to think if they had whispered anything too embarrassing, but couldn’t remember.

When they reached the Three Broomsticks, he took a moment to gather himself before they waltzed in.

The crowd roared just as she knew they would, Bill tried to look surprised just as she also knew he would, and nobody bought his ‘surprised face,’ just as she was sure they wouldn’t.

And there was Charlie, the ends of his hair falling out of his ponytail and into his face just as she always knew they did.

(Y/N) barely noticed when the party moved into full swing. Every member of the party seemingly needing to congratulate Bill personally. She heard Mr. and Mrs. Weasley talking about their other children at some point, who she already knew had apparently disappeared off to Zonko’s. She overheard Charlie, Barnaby, and Liz talking about magical creatures, Jae getting stopped by Rowan from sneaking out somewhere, and Talbott speaking in hushed tones with Chiara.

She was supposed to be happy. She was supposed to feel good. She knew she was. And yet, something in her chest scratched against something else and she found her hand massaging her chest, as though that could knead out the kinks in her heart.

When the feeling didn’t leave her, she felt the panic slowly rise, though she begged it not to, telling it what she knew in her mind, that everything was alright, the curse had been broken, and her friends were alright.

When it continued, she did the only thing she knew how to do when there was nothing to fight.

She ran.

Moving from the party, she smoothly weaved through the crowd until she had reached the door once again. Pushing it open, she used her last ounce of strength to dart out into the street.

The bang of the door clanged behind her and she just managed to breathe a sigh of relief at the fresh smell of a spring evening before loud laughing roared down the lane.

Sprinting to the side of the road, she caught sight of Nymphadora with four younger children, all of them carrying Zonko’s boxes. The shocking red hair on the three boys and young girl was enough to tell (Y/N) that these were Bill, Charlie, and Percy’s younger siblings.

Tonks and the four kids ducked into the pub and (Y/N) was both grateful and slightly disappointed somewhere in herself that they hadn’t noticed her.

Finding herself alone in the lane, she saw Hogsmeade dwellers coming down the road towards her.

All she knew was that she didn’t want to be observed by strangers just then.

She took off, darting down the road towards the castle. It was exhausting and she eventually slowed to walking. When it came time to trek up the hill, past Hagrid’s hut and towards the courtyard, she veered into the forest instead.

She knew this part of the forest too well to be afraid and yet a chill rose along her arms. Shoving it aside, she continued to walk, staying always within the realms that she knew beside Hagrid’s hut.

She passed the clearing where they had Care of Magical Creatures and the memory of the first time she had fed a bowtruckle came to her mind, bringing a smile to her lips though the aching in her chest hadn’t gone away.

With the memory of magical creatures came the memory of Charlie, eyes lit up and ginger hair a mess as he gazed at whatever creature Professor Kettleburn was teaching them about that day.

A rustle in the brush behind her sent her to spinning around.

A warmth entered her heart, though she would have thought there was no more room past the ache. As if the memory had conjured him up, there came Charlie, walking out of the darkness and into the glade.

She could barely see him, the moon being blocked by the overcast sky, but she could see his kind expression as he approached her.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” he asked. His ginger hair was falling out of his ponytail just as she had seen it in her memory.

“How did you find me?” She asked instead, not answering his question yet.

His expression became sheepish. “I—uh—followed you.”

“You followed me,” she said, the words tasting comforting in her mouth.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Dora told me she saw you outside the pub. She thought I would be a better help then she would. And when I saw you running, I thought I’d follow along. I was worried. I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Well,” he said, “are you—are you alright?”

The words were too much. She pushed them off in the only way she knew how, by physically walking away.

“No,” she huffed, Charlie jogged up to walk beside her, “I’m never alright anymore. I think I am. I know I should be, that everything is alright, that we broke the curse on the vault, that everyone trapped in the portraits are safe, but I’m not alright. I don’t understand it. I think I’m afraid, but no matter how much I tell myself not to be afraid, I still have this.” She stopped, turning to him, and rubbed at her chest again, trailing off.

She raised her gaze from the forest floor to his sad eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Everything is fine,” she said again, “I shouldn’t be feeling this way.”

Charlie shook his head, eventually answering quietly, “I disagree. It’s not a should or shouldn’t.”

She didn’t answer, having no words.

He took a breath, glancing past her, and then his eyes met hers again, “Can I show you something?”

His face was so pure, so good, with just the right amount of hope and compassion in his eyes that all she could think to say was, “yes.”

He smiled, walking off and she was grateful that he hadn’t taken her hand. She walked just a step behind and beside him as he moved to the edge of the wood.

They were on the shore of the Black Lake. The waters sweeping out before them.

“Okay,” he said, facing the lake.

She followed his lead. The sky was not so overcast here and she could make out stars between the cloud cover.

“Are you ready?” he asked, glancing back at her.

She nodded.

Charlie turned and she only caught sight of the edge of a grin before he uttered his spell.

“Expecto Patronum!”

A flash of light. A beam of blue. And then starlight exploded in the sky above them.

But, not starlight.

For as her eyes adjusted, she could see the stars twinkling behind the massive patronus that Charlie had conjured.

She had seen a patronus summoned. Had summoned one herself, though it hadn’t been corporeal, but never had she seen one take the form of a magical creature.

And of course Charlie’s patronus was a dragon.

A Welsh Green to be precise. Exactly like the dragon that the dragon tamers had ridden to collect the Hungarian Horntail, not a week earlier.

“How? How…?”

Charlie smiled back at her, the Horntail hovering effortlessly in the air, its tale swishing yards above them.

“I casted it right after they rescued the Horntail,” he smiled at the thought. “I had just finished talking with Mr. Scamander and I guess that, combined with the memory of the experience before, was so great that I was able to cast it. I was just so happy that a patronus came to mind and I wanted to cast it.”

She hesitated, feeling his eyes upon her, before she finally mustered up the energy to ask, “What memory did you choose just now?”

He smiled, looking at the lake and she knew he was thinking to himself. “The same night I guess. Well, that whole evening.”

“With the Horntail?”

“Yes, and Mr. Scamander, and the dragon tamers, and the Welsh Green…and Professor Dumbledore and…you.”

“Oh,” she breathed, startled.

“Oh.”

The words hovered in the air between them.

Finally, Charlie spoke again.

“Would you like to try?”

She blinked at him, “try?”

“Try casting a patronus.”

She blinked again, unsure of how to respond.

“Go ahead,” he said, gently beckoning with a slight dip of his head.

She stepped up beside him, the end of his wand still streaming the ray of light that turned into the dragon high above them.

“Alright,” she whispered, “but don’t expect it to be corporeal.”

“I don’t expect anything,” he said, his voice gentle, calming.

She smiled and she didn’t need any memory in that moment for a beam of light to rush over her wand when she whispered, “Expecto Patronum.”

She slashed her wand elegantly across the sky and the blue waves that wafted from it gradually coalesced together until they formed into a figure of feathers and talons.

“A phoenix,” Charlie whispered what they both now knew. “Your patronus is a phoenix.”

“Yes,” she breathed, “I believe it is.”

He turned to her, a wondrous expression gracing his face.

“It’s beautiful,” a rush of air left his lungs.

(Y/N) smiled at it, “it is, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. How were you able to cast it? What memory did you use?”

They watched as the phoenix flitted around the hovering dragon, playing with her every now and again.

“I didn’t use a memory.”

“You didn’t…” Charlie gaped at her and she saw as the understanding dawned over his face.

She didn’t need to say a word and he didn’t push her by saying another as well. They just enjoyed the sight of their patronuses for a little while longer. When the cold finally got to (Y/N), Charlie walked a step or two beside her into the castle and left her by her door, allowing her to enter her dormitory alone.

Though she didn’t feel entirely back to normal, and wasn’t sure how often this feeling would pop up after Rakepick’s betrayal, she felt hope for the first time in a week.

Taking a deep breath, she rested in her bed for her last night at Hogwarts and hoped that the illumination from her patronus would last much longer than those few moments by the lake.

This artwork is amazing!

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x you #harry potter fanfic rec #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery charlie #harry potter fanart

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a-world-in-grey · 5 years ago

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Take My Breath au - The Accursed v the Ardent

@secret-engima Ardyn really is a piece of work, isn’t he. But I found a spot for that verbal throw down in the throne room we talked about way back.

“Tell me High Chancellor, is this the regard we can expect from Niflheim?”

The demand rings out through the throne room. Sharp and angry and how-dare-you bearing down upon the room like a physical weight. Interrupting his speech and stealing all attention to the woman seated at King Regis’s right.

Halfway up the first set of stairs, Ardyn pauses as he loses his carefully crafted momentum. Not to one of the King’s Council. No, they are too cowed, too mired in protocol and tradition and politics.

This unexepected opposition is a guest. A Royal guest - the woman is dressed in finely tailored royal sable, that particular shade of black exclusive to the royal family and distinct to the discerning eye.

“My daughter,” Regis says in the abrupt silence, confirming Ardyn’s suspicions. “Princess Sola Lucis Caelum.”

The King’s magic, rusted-steel-fading-light-diminished-will, curls with apprehension. Not of him. Of his daughter.

Ardyn grins. Interesting. “The Ardent, and Sword to Crown Prince Noctis.” A flourished bow, to hide his widening smile at Regis’s twitch. Did he think Niflheim unaware of the Princess’ position in her brother’s Retinue? “A pleasure to be so introduced, my dear.”

His opponent has far better emotional control than her father. Not a hint of her disdain touches her expression. It is only through her magic - magic those without cannot sense - that Ardyn can feel how the Princess seethes under her calm facade.

Fire and Fury indeed.

Princess Sola rises, all sinuous grace and lethal intent. Ardyn’s heartbeat quickens in anticiption. Oh, here is a proper warrior. Not an old man chained by propriety and teeth dulled through disuse. The Princess is a killer, an unashamed one at that.

How novel, to stare another predator in the face.

Sola saunters down the stairs. Both she and Ardyn ignore the way Regis watches with mounting alarm. “You speak of peace,” she purrs, “yet all you offer is insult.”

Power play. A blatant but beautifully shameless counter to his own, asserting her dominance over Ardyn’s by calling out his insult of climbing the stairs without the King’s permission. Placing herself prevent him from advancing further. Forcing him to stay on the stairs and limit his movement or concede and retreat back to the floor.

At the edge of the dias, a mere half flight of stairs above him, Sola stares him down with lidded gaze. “Is that malice or ignorance?”

And Ardyn can’t breathe.

How long has it been since he’s had such a skilled partner? Someone not only capable of matching step with him but challenging him? Someone who dares to take control and lead him in this deadly dance of words?

Ardyn hasn’t been this delighted in decades!

“I assure you, Your Highness, that my presence here is only with the sincerest of intentions.” A deflection, avoiding entirely the Princess’ lovely verbal trap. “After all, Niflheim wishes to end this senseless war as much as you do.”

A challenge of his own. Acknowledge his intentions as peaceful, or deny it and subsequently imply that Lucis has no such desire for peace and lose face.

If the Princess wishes to lead, Ardyn will graciously cede control to her. His mother raised him to be a gentleman.

(Its certainly not his curiosity of his unexpected partner’s skill. He is not easily led, and he would hate to find his newest dance partner so disappointing.)

“So you say,” Sola says. Not ceding the point to Aryn but not challenging it either. And not a fool to believe him. Good. “But for Emperor Iedolas to send a diplomat so ignorant of our ways calls to question his sincerety. And if he intends for your visit to succeed at all.”

Silence falls, horror emnating from King Regis and his Council. Sola keeps her eyes on Ardyn, magic coiled in vicious satisfaction and calculated anticipation, waiting to see how Ardyn will react to this grievous insult, waiting to see if he’ll take the all but gift-wrapped excuse to end negotiations and leave-

Adryn laughs.

He laughs loud and free and utterly amazed at the Princess’ daring. To test their sincerity in such a manner, calling the Emperor a liar and his offer of peace false. Testing Ardyn himself by accusing him of incompetence and insinuating that if his intentions are peaceful that the Emperor no longer favors him.

Such a clever dragon! Such sharp claws!

“I must say how refreshing it is to meet someone with your audacity, Princess.” Ardyn chuckles, because it is. He hasn’t met someone so bold in years and it makes this visit all the more entertaining. “Truly, your presence would be a delight in the Imperial Court. A crowning jewel of the Empire.”

The thought of watching the Princess tear apart the Imperial nobility - perhaps even literally - is almost tempting enough to make Ardyn consider making a genuine offer of peace.

Almost. But not quite. Pity. He will simply have to imagine the fallout and content himself with that.

“But fear not, Your Highness. His Imperial Majesty’s sincerety is as true as my own.” Not at all, and Ardyn lets his smile sharpen. “He too has lost loved ones to this deplorable conflict between our peoples.”

Princess Sola stiffens at the reminder of Prince Icarus’ death - at the insinuation that Niflheim knows of his blood on her hands - and the implication that the annual assassination attempts since are the Emperor’s revenge for losing his only heir.

Ardyn continues as though he hasn’t noticed. “His Imperial Majesty wishes to leave a legacy of peace for both Niflheim and Lucis.”

Only now does Princess Sola’s facade break, lip curling as she bristles for a scathing retort-

King Regis speaks before the Princess can do more than open her mouth. “And what peace does Emperor Iedolas offer?”

Ardyn tamps down on the sudden surge of anger. He is speaking with the Princess. The King isn’t half as interesting and Ardyn doesn’t appreciate him cutting in on their dance when it is going so well.

He lets his gaze rise to meet the King’s, “Niflheim has but one compliance.” He says, and perhaps he’s being a bit too impudent, but he’s annoyed and stoking the King’s temper is his petty revenge for the interruption. “With the exception of Insomnia, all Lucian territory will be ceded to the Empire.”

An outrageous demand. But Niflheim has Lucis backed into a corner and King Regis knows this. Princess Sola crushed the Diamond Weapon they fielded the other day. At the cost of her life and a Phoenix Down miracle.

How many miracles is the King willing to bet on?

“And once surrounded, Niflheim will graciously allow us our continued sovereignty.” Sola scoffs.

Ardyn hides a smirk at the biting sarcasm, turning back to his preferred opponent. “Of course, Princess,” He pauses, raising a finger as if struck by a sudden thought, “Ah, how silly of me to forget. There is one more condition.”

He should meet the King’s gaze as he lets his voice rise to address him. But Ardyn is already certain how the King will react. He crafted his whole presentation with the King in mind. And well, compared to the Princess, King Regis is so terribly boring. “It concerns His Majesty’s children.”

The King’s magic flares, white-hot and utterly furious. But Ardyn is watching the Princess, and so he sees the moment her own temper blazes so like her father’s, the moment blue eyes spark with more than just her fury before she seizes her temper and smothers the fire threatening to slip from her control and burn.

Pain-fear-you-DARE-

And oh, he isn’t even done yet! “One of the Royal House of Lucis and one of the Royal House of Tenebrae will wed.” He smiles, sharp and sly as he retakes the lead in their dance. “Your Highness is right of course. Peace will necessitate certain assurances. But fortune smiles upon us! Both Lucis and Tenebrae have two unwed heirs!”

Sola stares, still as a statue and eyes wide, having put the pieces together before Ardyn finished speaking.

The Oracle does not marry out of her House. Ever. Not even to take a husband from another royal line. As it has been since the first Oracle, and why no Lucis Caelum has ever before married an Oracle.

Princess Sola or Crown Prince Noctis. One of them will be surrendered to Niflheim.

What is the phrase? Hook, line, and sinker.

Grief and rage sit heavy on the air. Ardyn breathes them in as those they are the most delectable of perfumes.

Denial-rage-pleading-sorrow-resolve.

Sola steps forward, shoulders squared and chin high. “You offer Prince Ravus?” Her voice does not betray how her soul wails in sorrow-forgive-me-I’m-so-sorry-

Oh, trying to take back control? Admirable, especially when the King sits so resigned, but Ardyn has already let her lead. Now it’s his turn. “He is an honorable man, more than willing to fulfill this duty if it brings peace.” A deliberate pause. “Though should he be unsuitable, we offer the Princess Lunafreya as bride to Crown Prince Noctis.”

The visceral reaction in Sola’s magic makes it clear that no, Princess Lunafreya will not be accepted as a bride. Ardyn didn’t expect Lucis to give up their Crown Prince, but Noctis is fortunate to have a sister so protective.

“Lucis will require reassurances of our own.” Sola says, rallying with a poison-sweet smile. “We have a duty to the well-being of our people. I’m sure you understand.”

Castigation directed at King Regis and hidden under her words to Ardyn. It seems King Regis’s resignation has offended Sola’s sensibilities.

How glorious.

“Of course, my dear.” Ardyn says, just to feel Sola’s irritation. He readies himself for another dance, this one unlikely to be cut short. “What do you have in mind?”

#Take My Breath au #ffxv #Sola Lucis Caelum #Regis Lucis Caelum #Ardyn Izunia #Lucian Council #Sola wants to murder Ardyn through this whole exchange #and Ardyn is delighted at finding a new person to poke at #the Imperial Court has become oh so predictable #and now he’s found someone new to play with #he’s two thousand years old he needs to get his entertainment somehow

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atamascolily · 5 years ago

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Metaphors vs. world-building in Star Wars landscapes: a ramble

Readers of my fics will know I am a big believer in the idea of the landscape as a reflection of the inner life of my characters. They also know I'm fond of "layers," which is my term for plot and character decisions that resonate on both literal and symbolic levels, and draw on archetypes and references that I find interesting and meaningful. One of the reasons I enjoy playing in the Star Wars sandbox is that the original trilogy really GETS that; one of the major reasons why I think the franchise is so popular is that it taps all this other stuff on both conscious and subconscious levels.... and this is especially true when it comes to landscapes.

Take Dagobah, a swamp planet shrouded in mists. As he struggles with his training in The Empire Strikes Back, Luke is literally bogged down, trapped in a landscape where his vision is obscured and nothing--from the tiny creature who turns out to be the teacher he was searching for to Darth Vader himself--is what it appears to be.

At the same time that Luke is struggling on Dagobah in ESB, Han and Leia are having their own struggles with illusion and deception on on the gas giant Bespin. Cloud City is literally a "castle in the air," beautiful in appearance but lacking any grounding--as a dis-armed Luke literally discovers when hanging suspended from what passes for foundations.

(As an aside, I appreciate Luke's "fall from grace" during his fight with Vader, and its parallels to the myth of Icarus. Icarus ignored the warnings and flew too close to the sun, only to die because his father couldn't reach him in time; Luke ignores the warnings and confronts Vader, only to deliberately refuse his father's outstretched hand. I don't know if the filmmakers consciously intended that parallel, but they nailed it.)

Yet by the time Luke returns to Dagobah in Return of the Jedi, the ubiquitous mist has vanished, and he is able to walk through the swamp in knee-high black boots without a speck of mud on him. The "veil" over his eyes has been lifted both literally and metaphorically--he now knows the truth about his father, and has accepted it.

We all know that world-building in Star Wars ranges from mediocre to non-existent, but there’s very little in any of the OT landscapes that seems grossly out of place within the context of the films themselves. The same is not true for the ST, where the filmmakers toss the world-building out the window and just go with what looks/seems the coolest (*cough* Starkiller Base *cough cough*).

In The Last Jedi, the Ahch-To sequences are supposed to parallel what we've seen in ESB of Luke's own training under Yoda. The filmmakers chose to site Ahch-To on Skellig Michael, a World Heritage site off the Irish coast, which works great on a metaphorical level. At the same time, they claim “Temple Island” be the site of the original Jedi Temple--which was a poor choice from a world-building perspective.

Just as the island is a lonely, rocky peak emerging from the ocean, so is Luke, tucked away in his self-imposed exile. I hate that nu!canon did that to him, but metaphorically it checks out. Just as Christianity survived in large part due to small, isolated outposts like Skellig Michael, so too have the Jedi been reduced to this final bastion. Luke's decision to self-isolate makes no sense in a larger context, but the symbolism is clear and consistent.

Because of this, the Ahch-To sequences are the most visually compelling in the entire movie for me. I like the juxtaposition of Rey, a desert child, literally out of her depth in the cave sequence--although I would have had her "vision" arise from staring at her reflection in the water as opposed to an actual mirror, because, you know, METAPHOR.

On the surface, Skellig Michael seems like a reasonable choice from a world-building perspective. It's home to a famous Gaelic Christian monastery founded somewhere between the 6th and 8th centuries. Since the Jedi are envisioned in the PT as space warrior-monks (retconned from the samurai analogues they are strongly implied to be in A New Hope), a monastery seems like a good fit for them, right? Well, yes, and no.

The problem is when nu!canon tries to claim that this is the home of the first Jedi temple--because that doesn't make sense from a logistical OR metaphorical perspective.

Historically, there were only 12 monks and an abbot living at the Skellig Michael monastery at any given time. I'm sure some of the Jedi could have doubled up, but there's still only so many people the island can support, unless their food is coming from elsewhere (From the Lanai? From somewhere else? who? what? how?) And where did those Jedi come from? Were they born on the island? Were they all related? Why did they build their temple THERE as opposed to some other place? How did they get off the island and into the stars? What was their tech level like, given that all we see of them (books, architecture, etc) is very low-tech to begin with?

To be fair, it may well be that Ahch-To is far more variable than the single-biome worlds we see elsewhere in Star Wars, but...do we see any of this, ever? NOPE. And the whole point of using Skellig Michael is to visually explore how little the Jedi Order has changed over the centuries... even their stonework is still there, thanks to the Caretakers (note that Rey, the disrupter, keeps knocking them down because METAPHOR), so I feel like it's okay to say that other things were probably the same however long ago the Jedi Order arose (which nu!canon is kinda vague about).

There is one reason why you'd build a temple there, though--and it has to do with the "Jedi as space mariners and star navigators" motif that nu!canon has been building up as a precursor to its High Republic mode. The temple site is literally a lighthouse, perched over the ocean, with the sun streaming in along the floor in a way meant to evoke ancient devices for measuring the arc of the sun. And I bet it has a fantastic view of the stars--perfect for people whose books are filled with geometrical depictions of planetary orbits and carry star compasses attuned to the Force.

But the FIRST Jedi temple? The first ever?? This I very much doubt, any more than Christianity itself originated at the Skellig Michael monastery. Not without a hell of a lot more world-building than they've ever bothered to show us.

Nu!Canon also tries to tell us that Ahch-To is the original homeworld for the uneti trees, which again, is fucking ridiculous without a little more world-building given that SKELLIG MICHAEL HAS NO TREES and the only one that we see in TLJ is ALREADY DEAD. This works well as a metaphor--the Jedi are a literal dead end, one that must be burned to rise like a phoenix from the ashes--but makes no sense from a world-building perspective.

I'd believe it if you told me the Jedi had come to the island to build their temple-monastery-observatory and planted the tree there from elsewhere. But they didn't do that, and it drives me crazy, because it was so easy for them to make it make sense and they didn't bother to think it through.

I think it was Philip Pullman who said, "Never make a metaphor do the work of a fact," when someone asked him about how/if daemons eat. Trying to make functional ecologies out of metaphor is probably a futile task doomed to failure... but some ideas are easier to work with than others and the best settings (in my opinion) exist as both.

I guess we'll put this down as yet another reason nu!canon doesn't work for me.

#star wars #SW meta #WHY DISNEY WHY #ahch-to

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thysparrowsdrew · 4 years ago

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I won’t post this on AO3 until the whole fic is done, because I’m sure I’m gonna go back and need to add/change things after writing the ending, but I finally have a full draft of the second chapter

They end up at a 1950s-style diner with the best patty melts in the state. Movie memorabilia lines the walls; above their corner booth, an actress stares out from a glossy poster, pistol in hand. Dean, Castiel, and Sam are piled into one bench, leaving the opposite to Margarita. The table puts two and a half feet of distance between them: not enough for Benjamin, but he bears it without complaint.

The Winchesters take charge of the discussion, reviewing everything they know so far. It isn’t much. Did Mirabel have any enemies? None living. Were there any witnesses to the attack? Same answer as previous. Have there been any other attacks that might be linked? Mirabel is the first angel to die in Arizona in two years.

The first time Castiel addresses a comment directly to Benjamin, Margarita answers for him. There isn’t a second time.

And, Margarita notices, Benjamin isn’t the only one avoiding speaking to Castiel.

When Castiel first rebelled against Heaven, the rumor -- though neither Benjamin nor Margarita believed it -- was that he was trying to claim the Michael Sword for his own use. After Armageddon was averted, the rumor changed: Castiel had indeed laid a claim on Dean Winchester, but as something other than a vessel. In the second month of the civil war, after seeing how Castiel rebuked a soldier for insulting Dean, Margarita decided that the rumor might not be wholly true, but it wasn’t wholly false, either. After the first time Castiel vanished mid-battle to rush to Dean’s side, Benjamin drew the same conclusion.

Dean’s sway over Castiel had been the civil war’s worst-kept secret. Now, the man sits shoulder-to-shoulder with Castiel, pressed closer against his side than propriety allows for-- and at the same time, he pointedly avoids speaking to Castiel except through Sam. Margarita idly wonders if it’s any less bewildering for Castiel than it is for bystanders.

“So what now?” asks Dean, around a mouthful of hamburger. The disgusted look his brother shoots him is either unseen or ignored. He was the Michael Sword, destined to bring about the end of the world, and Margarita is watching him rudely stuff his face at a diner in Phoenix on a Tuesday afternoon. “We got no leads and no witnesses.”

“We do have a witness,” says Benjamin, reluctantly. “Mirabel’s vessel.”

“Didn’t we rule that out at the morgue? She’s dead, and she ain’t coming back.”

“To this plane. You’ve only been dead a few dozen times, so you’ll be shocked to learn there are others.”

“You’re talking about visiting her in Heaven,” says Sam.

“No, I’m talking about visiting her in Tahiti. Unless anyone has any other ideas?”

Margarita feels Benjamin hope that someone will provide an alternative. No one does.

“He’s right,” says Castiel. “This is our best option.”

“Is one of you gonna...?” Dean waves his hand vaguely in the direction of the ceiling.

/I was hoping to avoid this,/ says Benjamin. /If we were closer to the portal--/

/I know,/ says Margarita. If they had twenty spare hours to drive to the portal, or if Benjamin’s wings hadn’t burned, he would take her with him to Heaven. But they don’t have time, and he doesn’t have his wings. /I’ll be fine. Will you?/

Warmth floods Margarita’s veins as Benjamin fills them with extra grace. /As long as I have you to return to./ Out loud, he says, “It has to be me. From what I understand, Castiel is unpopular in Heaven at the moment. I can’t imagine why.”

“Benjamin--” starts Castiel.

“This shouldn’t take more than an hour.” /Volveré pronto a ti, amiga de mi corazón./ Benjamin tilts back her head, opens her mouth, pours out of her in a radiant cloud of shimmering blue-white, and disappears through the diner door.

The comedown hits like a hammer to the skull. It always does, no matter how hard she tries to brace herself, no matter how many hundreds of times she’s been through it before. The physical world jolts into sickening focus: the lights are too bright; the booth is too hard; the air is too cold. Margarita slumps over, elbows on the table, a headache building behind her eyes. Tightness burns in her chest. Oxygen: her body again needs oxygen. Her lungs stutter before finding their rhythm, in-out, in-out.

Benjamin’s grace swells up to soothe her headache, but she pushes it back. Mirabel’s killer is still out there somewhere. If anything happens before Benjamin comes back, Margarita will regret wasting grace on something as small as a headache. Despite herself, Margarita half-expects to hear Benjamin scold her for this: You’re in pain, he would say. That isn’t small. But his voice doesn’t come, and the silence is as deafening as standing inside a church bell.

She has it easier than most, she knows. She could be one of the many vessels whose angel never eats or drinks. A more careless angel might let her wake in a strange place, no way to get home, thirst scraping her throat and hunger clawing her insides apart.

Castiel inhales sharply.

When a vessel is inhabited, their thoughts are shielded from other angels. Margarita is no longer inhabited. If she connects that line of thought to the sound Castiel made, she’ll throw up, so she instead focuses on building a shield in her mind. She pictures a game of Tetris (never one of Benjamin’s favorites, but always one of hers). She pictures a J-block falling. In her mind, she moves the block to the right.

“I apologize,” says Castiel, his voice sad and lost. “You don’t need to do that.”

His tone startles her into looking at his face; his expression makes her look away. It’s wrong, that tone in that voice, that expression on that face. Too human. The last time she saw Castiel in this body, he was a granite-eyed whirlwind of flashing silver, cutting down soldier after soldier (vessel after vessel) to keep the relics of Saint Demetrios out of the hands of Raphael’s army. The fight left sixteen pairs of wings burned into the red carpet of the Patriarchal Cathedral in Bucharest. Castiel, God’s Chosen, was responsible for eight.

“Do what?” asks Sam, confused.

She’s focusing on positioning the block, not guarding her words, and so she answers Castiel in blunt Enochian: “I have no reason to trust you."

Seven years ago, Castiel put out the clarion call for angels to join his war for free will. Eight months later, Margarita was in Bucharest, feeling her hands sink a blade to the hilt in Ammiel’s chest. She remembers light pouring from Ammiel’s eyes as angel and vessel both died. Remembers glass raining down. Remembers a voice shouting, and Benjamin spinning just in time to parry--

An O-block appears at the top of the screen. Left. Left. Her headache throbs behind her eyes. Again, Benjamin’s grace swells to soothe it; again, she bats it away. Sam is asking another question, she thinks, but the words don’t reach her.

Two booths over, someone’s knife scrapes against their plate.

Margarita’s feet answer without consulting the rest of her. The Tetris game falls apart. Before she knows it, she’s standing, heart pounding in her ears. Her head throbs and throbs. “Need some air,” she manages to say. “I won’t go far.” A bell rings as she pushes the door open, high and tinny. The sound digs into her like a scalpel.

A wall of desert heat hits her the moment she steps outside. Palm trees dot the parking lot; Margarita takes shelter in the shade of the nearest, sagging against it, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. Without Benjamin, her body is no different from the body of any regular mortal. Sweat forms beads on her forehead and dampens her palms.

The voice that saved her in Bucharest didn’t belong to one of Castiel’s soldiers, but the vessel of one of Raphael’s. He took control just long enough to shout: Kill me.

His name was Rémy Samson, Margarita learned later. His body was returned to his family (who would never learn how a librarian from Ottawa wound up dead on the floor of a church in Romania), and when his wife and three children buried him, Margarita and Benjamin were there, hidden from sight. One of Rémy’s daughters had an undetected tumor in her bone marrow that would have turned into stage four lymphocytic leukemia within a year. Benjamin cured it with a touch, and Rémy’s mother’s arthritis, and another daughter’s torn ACL.

After his family left, Margarita laid flowers on Rémy’s grave with the same hands that killed him.

He prayed for death, Benjamin said, staring down at the hydrangeas and gladioli. Why do I regret granting it to him? I don’t understand. Rita, please, help me understand.

Benjamin’s grace again rises to soothe her headache. Margarita is less successful at denial than St. Peter; this third time, she allows the grace to do as it will. It brushes against her like a cool breeze; it rinses away the pain like a bath rinses away dirt. The memory of Bucharest doesn’t fade, but the grace blunts its edge enough for Margarita to breathe again.

If she asked him to, Benjamin would take those memories away entirely. He would erase Bucharest, and Zipaquirá, and Marrakesh, and all the others. Every fight he fought with her body, every drop of blood he spilled with her hands-- he would wipe it all clean, if only she asked. He alone would remember, he alone would carry the burden, and he would do it without complaint.

She has never asked.

“Sister Margarita?” asks Sam Winchester’s voice from behind her. The Boy with the Demon Blood, the breaker of the sixty-sixth Seal, Lucifer’s true vessel, is looking at her with open concern. She’s heard enough stories of the Winchesters that his kindness shouldn’t surprise her, but it does, and she feels a twinge of guilt for it. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” says Margarita, once she finds her voice. “The first few minutes are always difficult.”

“You don’t mind him possessing you?” blurts Sam. From the look on his face, it wasn’t the question he meant to ask.

With her headache gone, Margarita can manage a reassuring smile. She understands why he would be concerned: he was an unwilling vessel to Lucifer for a time, and Gadreel too, if rumors are to be believed. “If I wanted him to leave, he would. I’m his partner, not his prisoner.”

Sam looks thoroughly unconvinced.

“Benjamin is my best friend,” Margarita continues. “You’re kind to be concerned, but you should save it for a vessel who needs it.” More somberly, she adds, “Most of them do.”

Her thoughts go to Josephine, unwilling Josephine, and the vessel who killed her. Was that vessel asleep? Locked in a fantasy world? Awake, watching her hands murder another innocent human, feeling the blade sink into flesh, begging the thing inside her to not make her do it, please, I don’t want to do this, just let her go, this is wrong, stop, no, please--

Sam’s voice jolts Margarita from her thoughts: “Cas said Benjamin was an old friend.” It’s a question wrapped in a statement.

Margarita sighs. They aren’t even a hundred feet from the table; if Castiel isn’t trying to tune them out, he’ll hear every word. “What else did he tell you?”

“Just that they were in the same garrison. From before Cas had his own.”

She takes a moment to compose her answer, knowing an extra ear might be listening. “Castiel was an old friend. When he asked angels to join his war against Raphael, Benjamin answered. He believed in him. He bled for him. And after Raphael was dead--” Wings charred into grass. Be obedient, children, or this will be your fate. In the back of her throat, Margarita tastes bile. “Those were bad days. Castiel broke Benjamin’s trust in ways I didn’t know it could be broken.”

“You need to know Cas wasn’t himself when he did that. He was sick from taking in Purgatory.”

“Was he sick from Purgatory when he made a secret alliance with the King of Hell?”

Sam winces. “He thought he was doing what he had to do. I didn’t like it either -- I still don’t like it -- but he was trying to do the right thing.”

“I know. He was trying to do the right thing when he joined forces with Crowley, and he was trying to do the right thing when he did the same with Metatron.” Two days after the Fall, Margarita woke up in a hospital in Madrid. The doctors told her she’d had a seizure. She could barely hear them over Benjamin sobbing apologies. “Sam, the only reason we’re here is to find Mirabel’s killer. If that requires working with Castiel, then Benjamin will work with Castiel through me. But you need to understand: If there was any bridge left to rebuild after Raphael, and I don’t know that there was, it burned in the Fall. This doesn’t end with them reconciling.”

Benjamin hadn’t been the only soldier left devastated by how the war ended. Margarita remembers a conversation with Jehoel two years ago: even then, she and Benjamin could barely begin to speak about what they’d seen.

Jehoel, who was also part of that original flight.

Jehoel, who would have heard the distress signal.

Jehoel, who lives seven hours away.

“What’s wrong?” asks Sam, but Margarita is already striding past him, back to the diner.

When Margarita enters, she sees that she didn’t need to be concerned about Castiel listening to her conversation with Sam. Dean has moved to the other bench so that he’s sitting across from Castiel, and all of Castiel’s attention is focused on him, glaring with such intensity that the diner is fortunate to still have windows. Uncharitably, without bothering to shield her mind, Margarita thinks of how unsurprised she is to find Castiel occupied with Dean Winchester while angels are dying.

If Castiel hears the thought, he doesn’t react to it.

“--cosmic consequences,” Dean is saying. Margarita is immediately determined to neither learn about nor get involved with whatever he’s talking about. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but--”

“Castiel,” interrupts Margarita, without apology. “What was the last news you heard about Jehoel?”

“I haven’t heard anything since the Fall.”

“When Benjamin talked to her two years ago, she was living in Santa Fe.”

Castiel’s head cants to the side. “You believe something happened to her since then.”

“Santa Fe is a seven hour drive. She should have been here before any of us.”

“People move,” says Dean.

In that conversation two years ago, Jehoel had talked about the house she’d moved into. How she was slowly restoring it with her (vessel’s) hands, just hands, no grace involved. “Jehoel wouldn’t have. Not by choice.” Margarita takes her phone from her pocket, Googles “santa fe” cult murder, and scrolls through the results.

“What’s going on?” asks Sam, approaching the table.

“Sister Rita’s worried about an angel friend,” answers Dean.

Towards the bottom of the first page of results, Margarita finds the article she hoped she wouldn’t. She zooms in on the crime scene photo and holds out the phone for Castiel to see. “I don’t recognize the vessel. Are those--”

“Jehoel’s wings,” Castiel confirms.

Margarita hates to pray standing, but kneeling in the diner would draw too much attention, so she makes do with a bowed head and clasped hands. For the Winchesters’ benefit, she prays in English: “Holy Ishim the Angel, Holy Kadmiel the Angel, hear this prayer. Mirabel is dead, and only Castiel and Benjamin have arrived at the location of the distress signal. Jehoel was killed four months ago. If you’re still alive, please call--” and Margarita recites her phone number, which she’ll have to change after all this is done. “Amen,” she finishes.

“What now?” asks Sam.

Castiel’s mouth is a grim line. “We wait.”

After a minute of drumming her fingers against her leg, Margarita’s phone starts to ring. She answers before the third note of Baka Mitai hits the air. “You’re speaking to Benjamin’s vessel.”

“Why am I speaking to his vessel?” asks a voice that Margarita recognizes as Ishim’s. Even if he wasn’t still possessing the same vessel, his disdain for her, beyond that of anyone else in the flight, would be identification enough. “Put a person on the line.”

Margarita holds the phone out to Castiel. “Ishim wants to talk to a ‘person.’”

“Sounds like a charmer,” says Dean.

Castiel holds the phone up to his ear. “This is Castiel. ... He went to Heaven to ask Mirabel’s about the attack. ... What? When? ... Why didn’t I know about this? ... I would have. I do. ... We’ll be there. Be careful.” He ends the call, the look on his face promising bad news, and hands the phone back to Margarita. “Kadmiel was killed last year.”

Fear clenches Margarita’s stomach. Angel deaths have gotten rarer in the past two years: when a species is nearly extinct, the survivors tend to be good at surviving. And for three of their flight's six members to be killed in that time-- that doesn’t say coincidence. Again, she bows her head to pray. “San Benjamín Ángel, amigo de mi corazón, escucha mi oración. Kadmiel y Jehoel también fueron asesinados hace unos meses. Lo lamento mucho, querido. Ishim sigue vivo. Estoy sana y salva, no te preocupes por mi. Ten cuidado y mantente a salvo. Amen.”

“Did Ishim say anything else?” asks Sam.

“He has a safe house outside the city. He wants to meet there.”

#prayer of the possessed tag

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