#quay pronounced key | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lyriumpulse · 2 months

Note

19 (@waxedwiings)

19) things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

The fire is warm in the hearth, and Anders is warm at his back, nestled against pillows and the headboard while Fenris sits comfortably between his legs. His own legs are bent to prop up a book spread open on his thighs.

"--but he had... ap- appoi--" Fenris reads aloud, laboriously, trying to force the letters on the page to form words in his mind. Slowly, he drags his fingertip along the unfamiliar word, and finally comes away with, "Appointments... to keep."

"Good," Anders says behind him, casually.

The praise thrills through him like an electric shock. He swallows.

Continuing, he drops to the next paragraph. He clears his throat. "The... kw-kways?" Another unfamiliar word. Fenris hates how unsure and vulnerable he sounds.

"Oh, that one's tricky. It's pronounced keys." Anders's breath fans over the back of his neck. Fenris's spine goes straight; his skin tingles, but not, for once, with pain.

"Quays," Fenris repeats. "The quays at midnight exchange the... ca-co-pho-ny," he says slowly, and at Anders's pleased hum of approval, warmth spreads like melted butter inside of him. "The cacophony of swearing sailors for the mournful sound of distant bells in the harbor."

He continues like that, confident until he trips across a word he doesn't recognize, at which point he stumbles over it like a newborn fawn. Anders radiates patience and calm behind him. One hand occasionally helps with the pages, and the other rests innocently across Fenris's middle.

When he gets a new word right on his own, Anders tells him, "You're doing great," and Fenris cannot force coherence into his thoughts, his brain overpowered by the desire to have Anders's praise and approval.

"You are doing this on purpose," Fenris tells him after the sixth time.

Anders's lips brush the back of his neck. His tongue is wet and warm when he lavishes kisses to the bare skin just above the neck of his tunic.

"Yes," he admits. "You're blushing."

"I am not."

"Your ears turn pink when I tell you how well you're doing." Anders's mouth is on his ear then, takes the pointed tip into his mouth, nips gently with his teeth. When Fenris writhes, breathless, he can feel the evidence of Anders's desire for him pressed against his lower back. "But you are doing well. I promise I'm not just trying to rile you up."

In an act of defiance, Fenris presses back against him. Anders's breath catches and a tiny moan escapes his throat, right into Fenris's ear. Any blood Fenris might have had to spare for supply to his brain rushes south at the sound.

"Fenris," Anders whispers, a question, but whatever he had been about to say is gone, swallowed up by Fenris's insistent kiss.

The book falls forgotten to the floor.

---

A one-off offer to have Anders stay over if he ever felt the Templars closing in on Darktown has turned into weeks of Anders slowly filling the manor with his things. Clothes, at first, and then books, and soon Fenris was finding trinkets, bottles of lyrium potions, herbs.

It hadn't been offered lightly, the awkward invitation. Fenris values his privacy and needs long stretches of time alone. As a slave, he had been surrounded constantly by other people, whether that be his master, his master's apprentice, or other slaves. Occasionally Danarius would reward his good behavior with a private bath, the only time in which Fenris could relax on his own entirely unsupervised. Even with the Fog Warriors, everything was communal, done in close quarters in sweltering heat. Their acts of affection, their bathing, their cooking, their hunting, down to their sleeping, all of it done a scant few meters from one another.

Surrendering part of his hard-earned personal space to Anders is huge, for him. He doesn't think Anders realizes that.

Fenris also does not cook -- he was never required to in Tevinter. Danarius had kitchen slaves to make his meals, the same as he had garden slaves to trim his topiary, house slaves to polish his windows, and body slaves to tend to his more physical needs.

(The body slaves stopped being of use after Fenris's first year serving Danarius. Why would he waste time with them when Fenris could service him just as well, and took instruction like he craved it?)

Even in the years since his escape, Fenris had never bothered putting effort into things outside of his sole mission of killing Danarius. His coin went unspent with the exception of basic necessities and weapons. He could buy whatever dish he wanted with the amount of money Hawke gave him as his portion of the pay, and before he had the funds available, he had just stolen whatever he needed.

He sees the way Anders eats like he will never see another meal again. It makes him want to learn.

The Amell estate is about as large as his own, but full of things that give it life. Fenris is greeted at the door by Bodhan, and Hawke's mabari, Bubbles, attempting to knock him over in excitement. It's a warmer welcome than he's used to receiving anywhere, and it reminds him of how far he's come, that he can have friends and not fear their imminent betrayal.

"Fenris!" Hawke greets him as he enters the main hall. She is dressed in just her house robe, smiling, and Fenris diverts his gaze politely. It helps nothing that she runs up to him to gather him in a tight hug, armor be damned. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Yes. Well."

Fenris pulls away from her, remembering a time when such casual closeness would have him sweating about being near Hawke for days. While he respects and admires her -- and even still finds her attractive, because he isn't blind -- he does not want her as fiercely as he used to.

"I apologize. I came to ask a favor."

Hawke's smile dims. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything is fine," Fenris says. "No. More than fine. I... was wondering if I could borrow Orana."

Oh, that sounds terrible, like she's an object to be traded. Hawke raises her eyebrows.

Horrified with himself, he amends, "Her time, I mean. I would double her pay."

"Finally going to clear out all those pesky slaver corpses?" Hawke teases. "Dust off the cobwebs? Fix that hole in your bedroom ceiling?"

"Something like that."

Orana follows him obediently back to his home -- and when did he start thinking of the place as home, rather than just somewhere to stay? -- and he has the opportunity to really see her for the first time since her rescue. Her blonde hair, once thin and weak, is bright and healthy. Her cheekbones are less prominent, her eyes less haunted.

Hawke is taking excellent care of her.

She still struggles to look him in the eye. A lifetime of training will do that to a person. Orana fumbles with her words, calls him messere, a title not only unearned, but uncomfortable to wear.

(He tells her, "I was a slave like you, once." But the implications of that are not entirely true. If they had both served their respective magisters simultaneously, she still would have been forced to show him the same reverence she is showing him now. He could have been ordered to whip her, beat her, possibly even kill her for any minor inconvenience and entirely at his master's discretion. There is a hierarchy even among slaves, and he would have outranked her. Worse still, he would have found her beneath him.)

By the end of the day, when his kitchen is messy with the efforts of her teachings, when he has stained his tunic and has caused her to burst into a fit of apologetic giggles, he has convinced her to call him Fenris.

---

Anders comes home -- and apparently it's not only his home, but the mage's home now -- to a table of pork, sweet rolls, and apple cabbage stew.

It is the result of several days of effort and several more botched experiments, but Fenris is proud of this simple meal because he made it himself, alone, with his own two hands. He had spent over a week inviting Orana to his home, asking her questions, and making mistakes. Each morning, he had gone to Hawke's estate, paid double the rate for nine hours of work, and eventually Hawke stopped trying to guess what he was doing. When she came by to ask him to come along for some errand or other, she eyed the untended hole in his ceiling, the flour on his own clothes, and one of Anders's few coats hung over the back of a chair, and for once said nothing.

Fenris had cooked the entire meal in secrecy when Anders was working at the clinic.

"You made this?" Anders asks, astonished.

"Yes." Fenris pours them both a glass of chilled wine. That's another thing that's different -- using glasses, as opposed to swigging it straight out of the bottle. "I have been practicing."

Anders shrugs out of his long coat and hangs it on the back of a chair. They don't use this room much, a dining area that he's made the effort to clean up. As Hawke had joked, the cobwebs are gone from the hearth, which now blazes warmly, and the loose floor tiles have been moved to sit tidily stacked in a corner.

"Is that why I've been smelling bread every time I come over? " Anders takes a seat at the table. He takes an offered glass of wine from Fenris's hand; their fingers brush in the process. "I was wondering why your neighbors have been so enthusiastic about baking suddenly."

Fenris smiles. His attempts to tuck it away fail him, and when he meets Anders's gaze, he finds the mage smiling in return. Warm, affectionate.

"I hired Orana to teach me how to cook. It... seemed like the time. I never had reason to learn before coming to Kirkwall, and then simply never bothered."

"Hawke's servant?" Anders sounds surprised.

"Yes. Like you, she is an excellent teacher." He motions to the spread on the table. "As you can see."

Fenris had even found a red tablecloth tucked away in a cabinet in his search for cutlery and drinking glasses. It wonderfully complements the fire and the golden tones of Anders's hair. He finds himself staring at Anders as he takes a long drink of the wine, and remembers himself only when Anders sets the glass down.

He sets about cutting the pork. Anders reaches to serve himself and Fenris playfully bats his hand away, instead taking his plate and filling it with meat and bread. A smaller side bowl he fills with stew.

Anders eats with the same passion and focus that he brings to everything else in his life. Fenris recognizes his own habits in the way Anders approaches food; it is a learned behavior, and can be unlearned, though Fenris is still working on that himself. He tries now to luxuriate in what he's made, to really taste the flavors of the savory pork and the sweet stew, rather than merely wolfing it down.

It is behavior learned from a life on the run.

As a slave, Fenris had meals provided to him, but had such a short amount of time to eat it. Danarius did not starve him the way Hadriana did. He needed Fenris to be fit and healthy, and so Fenris was given the nutrition he needed to be the tool his master wanted. Sometimes Danarius found entertainment in asking Fenris to taste different wines, chuckling at Fenris's ignorance when asking him about flavor notes. On one particular occasion, at a dinner party, Danarius had called him over with a snap of his fingers and had him kneel by his side, then ordered Fenris to lick his fingers clean in front of his Senator friends. Fenris can still hear their raucous laughter in his dreams.

He had walked Kirkwall for years with nothing but those memories of trauma and humiliation swirling in his head.

Here, comfortable in a spacious dining room with a man he cares deeply about, Fenris finds himself relaxed. He eats, and watches Anders eat, and they talk about their friends, about games, about their respective tastes in food. Fenris is learning what he likes, now that he has the freedom to choose. He enjoys wine. He enjoys fruit.

He enjoys Anders.

---

The night grows late. They talk and drink for hours after their food is finished, and when Fenris grows warm with the wine in his belly, Anders remains unaffected, Warden stamina and a spirit of Justice preventing him from experiencing alcohol's more pleasant effects. Anders helps him clear the dishes. They spend another hour in the kitchen, scrubbing the remnants of their meal from their plates.

"What inspired you to start learning, anyway?" Anders asks. "The rolls I could understand, but that was... basically a three-course meal. Not exactly beginner level."

Pausing to consider his choice of words, Fenris says, "I... have noticed that when you are particularly distracted by the clinic, or by your... cause..." He keeps his tone carefully neutral. "You will oftentimes forget to eat. You are no good to anyone if you are not well fed. And seeing as how the clinic is a free service you provide, and how little coin you accept from Hawke, I felt this was one way I could contribute to your wellbeing."

Fenris keeps his hands busy scrubbing at a small soup bowl in the washbin, but he can feel Anders’s eyes on him.

Anders states, "You learned it for me." His voice is a reverent whisper.

It's overwhelming. Anders speaks like a man unaccustomed to being anyone's priority, and Fenris thinks of all the conversations they've ever had and how little Fenris had actually listened to anything he had to say. At least he can make up for lost time now. He can let Anders speak of the horrors he's lived with, always in the abstract, the hypothetical, and he can parse the words he's saying rather than simply waiting for his turn to deal a verbal blow.

"Yes," he admits.

When Anders kisses him, he tastes like sweet rolls and chilled wine. His jaw is stubbly and it scratches pleasantly at Fenris's smooth skin. Fenris finds himself pressed between Anders and the wall, but also finds that he doesn't mind it, being surrounded by Anders, the way he smells like elfroot and Fenris's soap. When he cups Anders's face in his hands, his fingers are still wet from washing.

Anders doesn't seem to mind.

#my writing #this is messy and i may rework it for ao3 but here you go #( rs: do not bare your heart to me. | fenders )#waxedwiings #nsft #just in the beginning

3 notes · View notes

kayden-i-guess · 3 months

Text

WDYM QUAY IS PRONOUNCED KEY WHY IS IT SPELLED LIKE THAT.

#at the very least you couldve spelled it qui #but noooo the english language isnt confusing enough now a sounds like e #fuck you

2 notes · View notes

warwickroyals · 2 years

Text

beginning - previous - next

this one is packed with references and light spoilers . . . happy hunting. ("quay" is pronounced like "key", I've saved you all from saying it the wrong way for half your life like I have ^_^)

[MARK ASHLEY] Queen's Quay is the typical vacation hotspot for Sunderland's wealthy and elite. Cliche in its glamorous beauty.

[MARK] It hardly seems the place for a royal scandal, but the presence of King Louis’s youngest grandson has attracted controversy . . . and droves of photographers.

[ARTHUR] News ‘copter.

[MARK] What do you think they’re doing?

[ARTHUR] I don’t know, taking pictures, probably, some guy’s in there with a big-ass camera.

[MARK] Do they bother you?

[ARTHUR] Nah, I’m used to it. But it’s loud as hell, huh?

[MARK] But other than the cameras, you’re enjoying yourself?

[ARTHUR] Yeah, totally, we’ve got the three Bs: beaches, beers, and babes. So, uh, yeah it’s been great.

[MARK] Better than up north with grandpa, I’d bet?

[ARTHUR] Oh, one-hundo-percent.

[MARK] But while the prince might be well accustomed to intrusive photographers, the people of Queen’s Quay are not. Noise complaints and police reports have almost doubled in the past week.

[ARTHUR] I’m here to help you bitchless individuals out.

[ARTHUR] It’s easy, like, do this shit and: instant bitches

[ARTHUR] Chicks love sandcastles, just bullshit it. They love artsy shit like this.

[ARTHUR] You can be a 4/10 but if you can make a 6/10 sandcastle, you’re set.

[ARTHUR] I failed honours arts but bitches think I’m Beethoven when I bust out one of these.

[FINCH] Beethoven was a musician, tho . . .

[ARTHUR] I literally just said I failed AP art, Finch, why are you surprised?

[MARK] Your older brother is currently enrolled at Warwick Metropolitan University. If he graduates he will be the first member of your family to receive a graduate degree. Do you have any plans for post-secondary education?

[ARTHUR] Not really? People always get mad when I say this, but why do I need a degree? So I can get a good job?

[ARTHUR] Be real, I’m wearing a shirt with pineapples on it, you don’t want me filing anyone’s taxes. My brother’s the smart one.

[MARK] University can provide you with a lot of amazing opportunities.

[ARTHUR] I’d just fail. And even if I did well, people like you would just say I got unfair treatment like last time, so . . . I’m good.

[LOCAL WOMAN #2] I think it's just frustrating because you know that if he wasn’t royalty the police would have already shut it down. We don’t treat celebs like this.

[LOCAL MAN #1] The hotel is right across the street from us. It’s constant music and noise and traffic. It’s terrible.

[FINCH] What type of vape is that, my man?

[ARTHUR] Strawberry ice cream. I prefer the mango, but this one is alright.

[FINCH] They’re clowning you for vaping in chat, Art.

[COOKIE] Probably because it’s gross as fuck.

[ARTHUR] Omigod, shut up, both of you.

[ARTHUR] You guys are like my dad. Cigarettes are fine but vaping is so bad for you.

[FINCH] You’re not worried about popcorn lung?

[ARTHUR] You know I don’t believe in that shit.

[COOKIE] But he’ll believe once he develops it, tho.

[LOCAL MAN #2] I think the people here are being a little dramatic. Sure he's loud, but so are the local kids. Sure he's causing trouble, point me to one boy that hasn't? Stuff like this happens, people only care because of who he is.

[COOKIE] . . . Like, yeah, why do you think I'm here? Woodbine is, like, so freaking boring in the winter, bitch—Oh, can I swear or will you censor bad words?

[MARK] We won’t censor, um, that one

[COOKIE] Oh, goody! I thought I’d [REDACTED]ed it up for a second there.

[MARK] Are these your friends from school, Your Royal Highness?

[ARTHUR] Well, I went to an all-boys school, so yes and no—

[COOKIE] His school was scuffed

[ARTHU] —she’s just saying that, she was always visiting afterhours, if you know what I mean. I have that effect on bitches.

[COOKIE] OMIGOD, ARTIIIIIEEE.

[COOKIE] I don’t give a fuck if they’re talking ‘bout my tits. I’m built differently for these little boys, the fuck?

[COOKIE] All white bikini my body looks like milk.

[ARTHUR] White on white?

[COOKIE]White on white on white. My nails are white too.

[COOKIE & ARTHUR] White on white on white on white

[FINCH] They’re both so fucking annoying, guys. Pray for me.

[MARK] In recent years, the status of the Duke of Woodbine’s two sons has been subject to controversy. Last year, both young men were stripped of tax-funded police protection after senior members of the royal family reportedly expressed concerns. Prince Arthur refused to answer questions about his family. Back to you, Ana.

[MARK] Is it safe to say you’re dreading the end of your vacation?

[ARTHUR] As much as you’re dreading the end of this interview, yeah.

#warwick.story #chapter three #tw smoking #ts4 story #ts4 storytelling #ts4 legacy #ts4 royal legacy #ts4 edit #ts4 screenshots #ts4 royalty #ts4 monarchy #ch: arthur #ch: cookie #ch: finch #✨

41 notes · View notes

waitingforwinterwinds · 2 years

Text

A Clash of Kings - 49 TYRION XI (pages 640-649)

Tyrion starts finalizing the preparations for Stannis' upcoming attack on King's Landing, making the hard call for some unfortunate (and not so unfortunate) orders before catching up on some gossip with the boys.

"-" Tyrion threatened, as the first load of Stone Crow pushed off from the quay.

Look, I know it's pronounced like "key," I know Galdin Quay is pronounced like "golden key," but that doesn't stop my brain from saying "kway" every. damned. time. >.<

... I just read an entire page and absorbed exactly zero words, my eyes were tracking but my brain was experiencing an AU. *sighs*

(Diaspro as one of Tyrion's hired swords, traveling around enjoying exile with Aryo, because she deserves her goddamned horse (and by horse I mean broken-horned alicorn with trust issues that tried to kill Diaspro's ex-fiance))

Children with swollen bellies were already fighting over the pieces of stinking fish.

oh dear. I know swollen bellies sounds like glutted-on-food or pregnant, but in this context it's more likely to be the swollen belly symptom that comes from starvation and rotten food-sources causing infections and disorders of the gut.

He remembered their godswood; (...) That wood was Winterfell. It was the north. I never felt so out of place as I did when I walked there, so much an unwelcome intruder. He wondered if the Greyjoys would feel it too. The castle might be theirs, but never that godswood. Not in a year, or ten, or fifty.

oh that's interesting, not just "ancient gods don't like you" vibes, but it also contextualizes some of Cat's thoughts from way back in GoT, feeling like an outsider still after all these years, iirc, that thought was directly linked to her being in the godswood.

"Yes, you have secret spells, how splendid, what of them?" "They, hmmm, seem to be workingbetter than they were." Hallyne smiled weakly. "You don't suppose there are any dragons about, do you?" "Not unless you found one under the Dragonpit. Why?" "Oh, pardon, I was just remembering something Old Wisdom Pollitor told me once, when I was an acolyte. I'd asked him why so many of our spells seemed, well, not as effectual as the scrolls would have us believe, and he said it was because magic had begun to go out of the world the day the last dragon died."

Okay, so iirc, that's now the Undying, Quaithe (and by extension her order I'm guessing), and the Alchemists Guild (also I think Mirri might have inferred something of the same but I'd have to go back and check) all saying dragons cause magic.

So we have a definitive belief that the two are related, but I'd be curious of the how. How are dragons related to magic, do they cause it to germinate? Or are they more like conduits and their living presence allows magic from some other plane into this one? Are they actually the cause of magic or just an inevitable symptom of the return of magic?

Hey, hey GRRM, come here a sec, I got questions for ya!

"My men have there instructions." "Which are?" "You commanded me to tell no one, my lord."

Ha! I like you Jacelyn. For now.

#a clash of kings #a song of ice and fire #tyrion lannister #a chapter a day reading #acok #asoiaf

8 notes · View notes

drgmoveson · 8 months

Text

Friday, February 9, 2024: Today we took the ferry from Circular Quay (pronounced key) and went to Manly. The ride over and back gave us great views of the city. We went on the Coastal Walk (at least part of it) and stopped to rest and enjoy along the way. It was windy and we had trouble keeping our hats on. Finally we walked along the Corso, which has some interesting old buildings and shops. We got delicious gelato (mine was hazelnut mousse and Geary got strawberry banana at Anita Gelato, which was very popular. Then we headed back on the ferry to relax after this excursion.

1 note · View note

irelandsojourn2023 · 1 year

Text

And so it begins.......

In 2014 I did a 3 month sojourn in the South of France and enjoyed keeping my friends and family updated on my adventures. So here begins another sojourn on the magical island of Ireland.

I arrived late yesterday (Wednesday, 4/27) afternoon. I was so tired having not slept on the plane. However, everything went smoothly with picking up the rental car and getting out of Dublin and on the road. Mid-way to my destination, exhaustion hit so I pulled over in a rest stop and rested for about 40 minutes and then continued on.

My little cottage in New Quay (pronounced "New Key") is attached to the main home of a lovely couple, RoÍsín and Brendan. It is 2 rooms, one on entry with full kitchen and one bedroom and bath upstairs. I am across the street from Galway Bay to my left and Lisanne's Restaurant and Bar.

Once unpacked, I headed back into Kinvara for food provisions at the local Spar. The village of Kinvara doesn't have much - a pharmacy, Spar, beauty shop, few restaurants/pubs and small hotel, an old castle ruin, Dunguaire Castle, around a little port.. By the time I got home I was famished. Too tired to cook I wandered over to Lisanne's for fish and chips and a glass of wine. The former were delicious, the latter not so much :-(. A long hot hot shower and I finally collapsed by 9:30p.m. just as the sun was setting.

Had quiet time this morning with my coffee, newspapers and readings. I had purchased the fixings for hamburger soup so I set about getting that prepared. OMG the knives were so dull I couldn't cut through the onion. (Note to self: afternoon activity to find knife sharpener). Once the soup had simmered for a while, I packed up to find the knife sharpener and a small bluetooth speaker. The radio/cd/tape player here is out of the 80's and with no CD's provided seems useless. TV only has about 5 stations, but the internet works and I can stream on my iPad.

No luck in Kinvara for the items I was searching for so I ventured farther afield and closer to Galway to Orcombe where I found a Tesco - much bigger grocery store (more like Carrefour in France) and a few small appliances and limited clothing selections. I scored the speaker for 20E and the knife sharpener for 11E and headed home.

The weather is hovering around low to mid-50's and is overcast. We have had spitting showers today intermittently. I got back from my errands about 2:30 and made short shrift of my soup with some warmed baguette purchased at Tesco. I decided to do another walk along the Flaggy Shore. Before I did though, I drove all along it first to see where it went and how far it was. I love meandering down the country roads looking at houses, stopping to talk to the cows and sheep. I came back and parked the car and began my walk.

I have to admit I am having a lot of pain in my knee while walking. I think it's more from the bursa behind the knee rather than the meniscus or arthritis in the knee. I walked about 1 1/2 miles very slowly and am now home and icing. No swelling and the pain doesn't persist when stationary. I did a good bit of stretching when I got back and have been given more stretching exercises from PT. Bottom line is that I will not let this keep me from walking. However, Roísín mentioned she might be able to find me a bike which is lower impact for the knee.

I keep referring to the Flaggy Shore. It's a lovely walk around Galway Bay where it empties into the Atlantic Ocean. You have Connemara across the Bay and the Limestone Mountains of the Burren behind you. Seamus Heaney immortalized it in a poem, Postscripts, which I will add and hope you enjoy!

Postscript

Seamus Heaney

And some time make the time to drive out west

Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,

In September or October, when the wind

And the light are working off each other

So that the ocean on one side is wildWith foam and glitter, and inland among stones

The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit

By the earthed lightning of a flock of swans,

Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white,

Their fully grown headstrong-looking heads

Tucked or cresting or busy underwater.

Useless to think you’ll park and capture it

More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there,

A hurry through which known and strange things pass

As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways

And catch the heart off guard and blow it open.

1 note · View note