#roughage loaf

[high-quality-tiktoks]

I may need some time to recover from this

[content-without-context]

"It tastes like a book shelf. Books included."

– B. Dylan Hollis

[keepersofmyheart]

Roughage loaf from 1892

He hates it!!! 🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮

[necromantic13]

The Light of the Moon

A character sketch about Hypatia, more atmosphere and exploration than story, but I learned a lot about her while writing it.

Probably NSFW.

Ships crashed against the rocks of the Stormedge Isles regularly, littering the seas and shore with all manner of treasures from their holds. Hypatia was no stranger to debris and the housing of injured or displaced sailors, but this night’s arrival was different. She watched the ship appear upon the horizon as it by magic, carried along by the rough waves, not careening so much as gliding with purpose toward the rocks until it crashed with an audible crack of wood against the hard stone. It stuck in place, only wobbling ever so slightly.

Hypatia, sitting by a dying fire and digesting the night’s meal, put her chin in her hands and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, waiting to see what might fall out.

A moment after the ship made landfall, a woman vaulted over the edge. She completely avoided the water, throwing herself gracefully over the bow of the ship and landing easily on the ground. She smiled, shook a bit of seawater from her sleeves, and turned toward the fire.

She was human - that much Hypatia could tell from where she sat idly by the fire, the glow of the flames and the light of the moon casting enough illumination to give her a decent enough view of the woman’s features. She had long black hair trailing down past her shoulders, braided and decorated with gold rings and baubles she had no words to describe, but the fire played with them like kittens with shiny toys. Hypatia narrowed her eyes in curiosity, tilting her head as the sailor walked across the dock and down toward the fire. Few ships of legitimacy docked at night, even fewer elegantly crashed, and while the pirates that hid their ships from the Empire against the craggy shores of the Stormedge Isles were not unfamiliar to her, it was rare she came across one so immediately compelling.

There were few others around, most having retired for the night or gone off to perform private rituals, so Hypatia rose to meet her. Her long legs bridged the distance from the flames to the base of the dock in moments, intercepting the pirate before she could step off the wooden planks and onto the mossy ground.

“Trading?” she asked, her voice lilting with a hint of danger held within. She was no great Elder, but she’d been raised by one, and had learned to use her voice and wiles to command respect regardless of her station.

“Hiding, mostly,” came the sailor’s crystal clear reply. She spoke in an accent Hypatia had never heard, smooth like blue water on calm seas, and for the first time her own down home drawl felt clunky and dim in comparison. “You wouldn’t happen to have accommodations available?”

“You the only one on your ship?” she asked clumsily, eyes flicking to the boat she’d arrived in. It was small enough to be piloted by one, albeit with difficulty, and not for long.

“I am now,” she replied with a smile, a spark of mystery in her eye.

“I suppose I shouldn’t ask.”

“You can, if you’d like. I’m certainly not immune to curiosity, and can’t fault it in others.”

Hypatia swallowed, eyes trailing involuntarily from the pirate’s sharp blue eyes, down her laced white blouse to the tips of her black boots. She didn’t look like she’d just stepped off a boat, sailed alone along the edge of the Maelstrom, and crashed onto the lonely rock Hypatia called home. It was not an easy trip, and few made it alive, let alone untarnished. This woman, however, was both of these things, and it made Hypatia equal parts uncomfortable and intrigued.

“Name’s Hypatia,” she said, extending a net-gloved hand. “Hypatia Vasko.”

“Stellara Aurelia,” she replied, grasping her hand firmly in her own.

“You’re named for the stars,” Hypatia said, her words escaping her lips before she could assess them for quality or intelligence.

“You could say that.” Her voice was amused behind the impish smile, and Hypatia could feel a flush creep into her cheeks.

“We have lodging if you don’t mind the damp. Hard keeping much dry here.” Hypatia’s pulse thrummed in her veins, and she wondered if the stranger could tell.

“I don’t mind the damp,” Stellara replied, tucking a braid behind her ear to join the others. “I’m hard to disappoint.”

Hypatia watched the flames play with shadows over Stellara’s face, and wondered if this was what Mags had meant when she said her heart had rattled her ribcage upon meeting Sullivan for the first time. It hurt, she couldn’t breathe, and she didn’t want it to stop.

“Come with me,” she said, her words feeling lifeless compared to how she felt. The pirate grinned, tipped her head, and followed Hypatia into the swamp.

The next morning, Hypatia’s mother appeared at their hut with fresh eggs, goat’s milk, and Stellara holding a loaf of fresh bread. The pirate looked the same as she had last night; bright, awake, and with a smile on her face that Hypatia found difficult to look away from.

“Our guest wanted to help earn her room and board,” Marta said, setting the eggs and milk on the table. Zachariah had already left to get started on chores, so it was just the three of them partaking in breakfast. Hypatia set the table with the sparse flatware they possessed, only enough for guests because her brother was not there.

“I have nothing to pay you with,” Stellara affirmed, nodding as she held out the bread. Hypatia found her eyes wandering again, over the pirate’s richly adorned garb. Stellara caught her eye, smirking in response.

“Nothing?” she blurted in response, deeply distracted from her manners, chastising herself internally for how rude she must have sounded.

“Nothing you could use,” Stellara replied, and Hypatia thought she sounded almost sad about it.

“It’s no bother. We appreciate the help.” Marta pulled out a chair for Stellara and sat down herself. Her strict, staunch mother seemed uncharacteristically unperturbed by the lack of payment, and Hypatia was not one to argue. If Elder Marta was okay with the arrangement, then she had no reason to argue. They were not well off, but they had enough to share with a well-meaning guest.

After breakfast, she sent them both out to wash up.

“Where are you from?” Hypatia asked, draping a wet cloth over a clothesline and holding it in place with a clip.

“Far from here,” Stellara replied, mischief in her eyes again. She washed a plate and set it to dry on the small wooden table beside her.

“The mainland?” Hypatia pushed.

Stellara simply smiled and washed another dish.

“Hypatia?” a voice issued from the direction of the house. It was her brother ambling down the path, hatchet over one shoulder, burlap bag in the over hand.

“Culling time?” she asked. Zachariah nodded at her, and then at Stellara.

“Guest want to join us?” he asked, and Hypatia could hear the jest in his voice.

“Certainly,” Stellara replied, surprising them both.

“There’ll be blood,” Zachariah explained unnecessarily.

Stellara canted her head and smiled. “I have seen men bathe in it.”

“All right, then.”

Zachariah hoisted the axe a bit higher and walked past them, headed for the pens, Hypatia and Stellara on his heels.

After a brief walk, they reached a small pen with about two dozen chickens, three roosters, and two goats milling about. The goats were heavy-horned and shaggy, chewing on the soft moss that grew all over the swamp.

“Your goats seem unphased by the palatability of their roughage,” Stellara noted, crouching by the edge of the fence and laughing as one of the chickens pecked at the fingers she poked through.

“Good thing,” Zachariah replied, kicking an old log into an upright position. “Ain’t good for much else.”

“The goats or the moss?”

“Yes.” He swung the hatchet off his shoulder, slinging it blade-first into a log, the wood already split and stained brown from previous deaths. “Sis?”

“I’ll get your damn rooster,” Hypatia sighed, rolling her sleeves up as well as she could. They were frayed and not particularly conducive to properly folding, bits of net trailing from her elbows. Stepping up to the fence, she vaulted herself over the thin mesh and made her way toward the nearest rooster, boots kicking up big clods of dirt as she went. The rooster had no interest in capture, and evaded her quite expertly until she cornered him between the chicken coop and the fence.

“Come here, you bastard,” she said, hand striking out and snagging him by the neck. Once lifted, she flipped him upside down and grabbed his feet as his huge wings battered back and forth in protest. Eventually he gave up, hanging dumbly with his eyes staring into space, wings outstretched and not moving.

“Gotcha,” she smirked, handing him over the fence to Zachariah and climbing back over herself.

“That was some expert rooster wrangling,” Stellara said, and Hypatia wasn’t sure whether it was in jest or authentic, but she blushed nonetheless.

“Sorry, fella,” Zachariah said, tossing the rooster down on the log and securing his head between the two nails jammed into the wood. He raised the axe and was about to swing when the rooster slipped from his restraints, twisting free from Zachariah’s grasp and knocking him unceremoniously to the ground.

The rooster crowed at its sudden freedom and renewed vigor for survival, making a break for it as Zachariah cursed from his prone position on the ground. Hypatia jumped over him, hot in pursuit. She dodged a low tree branch, nearly slipping on some moss as she turned to keep pace. Raising a hand to the sky, she felt the power of the stars course through her, and a jolt of jagged lightning shot from her fingertips, hitting the rooster square in the back. It squawked loudly before tipping onto its side, convulsing and splashing in the mud.

Hypatia slid to a stop beside it, hands on her thighs as she panted from the pursuit, rooster sizzling in the moss before her.

“Got it!” she shouted, grabbing it by the back legs and jogging back to her frustrated brother and laughing Stellara.

“Pre-fried and everything,” the pirate said.

“Nice work,” Zachariah said begrudgingly, taking the rooster and setting it on the wooden table beside the chopping block.

The rest of the slaughter was less eventful, Hypatia and Stellara handing Zachariah chicken after chicken as he beheaded them for them to gut and skin. Hypatia was elbow deep in blood, her arms slick and warm as she yanked out a handful of guts and threw them on the ground. The rest of the chickens, dumb and hungry, cleaned up her mess as she made it.

They culled the flock to six hens and a single rooster, leaving the survivors alone to cluck and peck in peace, utterly unaware that half their population was headed for the store room. The goats were unperturbed, chewing away as though nothing had happened.

They gave Marta one of the chickens and stored the rest in the small icebox they kept for their family. They packed the bodies in tightly alongside jugs of milk and cheese, and threw the feet at the two dogs eagerly awaiting their part of the day’s prize.

“I’ll go clean up,” Hypatia said, looking at the blood cold and crusted under her fingernails with a sharp sense of pride. “There’s a water pump by your cabin.” Stellara nodded, her own clothing meticulous, despite her assistance with the day’s work. “Thank you for letting me help,” she said.

“Thank you for helping,” Hypatia replied, smiling as the pirate turned and walked away into the swamp, stepping as expertly as though she’d been navigating the bogs her entire life.

Hypatia returned home and washed up, satisfying herself with the distraction of magical study and stringing the bones of past dinners into decorations for her room. It was morbid, and she was the first to admit it, but there were few supplies to spare in the swamps and bones aplenty, so it seemed as good a pastime as any. Waste not, want not.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and gave way to the moon’s dominance, she put aside her projects and went to visit their guest.

“We’re lighting a fire tonight,” Hypatia said, standing uncomfortably by Stellara’s door as the pirate was unclipping an earring from her ear and laying it down on the dresser in the sparsely-furnished room.

She turned to look at the young Selunari, and Hypatia could have sworn for a moment that Stellara’s eyes were solid black.

It must have been the light, she thought for herself, because as the woman stepped into the light spilling into the room from the moon outside she could see the emerald green eyes she’d expected.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” she said, brushing at the folds of her blouse.

“I think you look beautiful,” Hypatia said, choking on the words as they passed her lips.

Stellara stepped out of the small cabin and stood in front of Hypatia, closer than she needed to, but not as close as Hypatia would have liked.

“Show me your world, Hypatia.”

Hypatia led her through the swamp.

The flames danced as furiously as her kin, twisting and flashing in the ecstasy of the night. The drums beat and the voices sang, and the day’s catch was fried and seasoned and handed out as soon as the flesh had cooled from the coals. There was no deep cleansing to be done, but there was always maintenance to keep, and if you did not fill yourself periodically with the light of the stars, the swamp would devour you whole.

“Your people truly come alive at night,” Stellara mused, accepting a speared haddock when it was offered.

“In the darkness, we burn,” Hypatia replied, speaking the tenets of her family’s ways. “The light means nothing if there is no shadow to illuminate it.”

“And vice versa,” Stellara added.

“Of course.”

Stellara took her fish and walked around the flames, slowly taking in the smell of smoke and sweat. Hypatia’s family was small in comparison with some, numbering only a few dozen Selunari calling that slice of island home, and even those coming and going as the tides and wanderlust carried them away. Still, they lived with the abandon of the descendants of slaves, acutely aware of the fleeting nature of life and intent on savoring it. A couple was being intimate in the shadows, sharing themselves without worry of prying eyes. There was nothing spectacular to witness - just the melding of two bodies on a night made for laughter and love.

“And when do you come alive?” Stellara asked, startling Hypatia from her contemplation.

“When do I come alive?” she replied, her answer locked somewhere under surprise and uncertainty.

“Your powers of imitation are sound,” Stellara teased, and Hypatia rolled her eyes, feeling the first sense of camaraderie not born of novelty bloom between them.

“I’ve never thought of it, I guess. Not specific to myself, I mean. The night sky is a collection of celestial faces shining at once.”

Stellara raised an eyebrow. “And yet each star lives its own life, winking in and out of existence despite the others. Some even fly.” She grinned; Hypatia furrowed her brow, less in concern and more in wonder at this stranger’s grasp on her own metaphors.

“You sound as though you’ve considered this before,” she said after a moment of thought.

“What if I have?” She passed her fish off to another twirling body eager to revive itself with food. “Show me who you are.”

Hypatia hesitated for a moment, letting her thoughts wend as they wished. Show who she was? This was, perhaps, not as difficult a request as it seemed.

“Come,” she said, taking the pirate’s hand.

Hypatia led Stellara to a group of individuals seated within the reach of the fire’s light, but out of the range of its stinging warmth. They huddled together around a woman and a man kneeling on the ground, foreheads pressed together as they chanted in unison.

“What is this?” Stellara asked, studying the crowd.

“Sullivan’s daughter was caught in a pirate raid, murdered by an errant crossbow bolt, and he’s been on the precipice of the void ever since.” The woman held his head to hers as the man sobbed, spitting vitriol toward his daughter’s killers and swearing vengeance for her death.

“Should he not seek vengeance?” Stellara asked, watching them together. “It seems a catharsis might do him well, and that it might be deserved.”

“Sometimes that is the way,” Hypatia replied. “But Sullivan is a craftsman. He’s never lifted a sword in his life save to slit a pig’s throat for supper. Killing his daughter’s murderers would only deepen the rage inside him, not release it.” She shook her head. “The method for purging is as varied as the people that need to do it, and for most it’s a journey to discover what that is.” “How does someone like Sullivan heal?” Stellara asked softly, her interest seeming genuine. She watched the man’s sobs wane to stilted breathing as the woman beside him sang softly to him.

“Cry. Rage. Grow. His passion lies in creating, and so does his catharsis.” She watched the woman hug him, and a small, exhausted smile began to show itself. The darkness receded a bit - not permanently and not for good, but that brief glimpse of light in his eyes assured Hypatia that he would be ok.

“Where does yours lie?” Stellara asked her.

“I don’t know,” she said, turning from the group back to the fire. “Honestly, I’ve yet to figure that out completely.”

“Well, I am far from an expert in chasing away the void, but I do have some experience in escapism.” She clasped her hands behind her back and smiled in a way that sent adrenaline tingling to every point of Hypatia’s body.

“Only one way to learn, right?”

“Who are you?” Hypatia asked, breath still racing against the pulse of her blood. They lay together behind a crop of trees, the moss soft beneath them, clothing left in small piles on a rock beside the clearing.

“I am the Daughter of the Moon,” Stellara replied, her grin reaching her eyes. The moon seemed to agree with her assessment, shining its silver light along her lean body and dark skin.

“Well, good, because I’m the Daughter of the Void,” Hypatia teased in kind, despite a part of her strongly considering the veracity of Stellara’s jest. She ran a finger along the side of the pirate’s hip. “Must be why we get along so famously, shadows and light and all.”

“There’s an absolutely filthy metaphor in there somewhere,” Stellara laughed.

“Care to elaborate?” Hypatia asked, shifting herself so that she was straddling the woman, her knees pressed into the soft, damp ground.

“Well, I’m never one to break a good narrative.” The pirate laughed and pushed herself up, meeting Hypatia’s lips to continue the story properly.

The days floated by like waking dreams, Hypatia feeling almost as though she was suspended in time. Life continued as usual, and yet felt different in a way she couldn’t discern. If anyone else felt similarly, they weren’t talking about it.

Late one night, once she was done with her chores around the house and farm, Hypatia went to bring food to Stellara. The pirate had been there for nearing on two weeks now, and during that time she’d never asked for anything. She ate when offered, but it always seemed to be more out of courtesy than necessity.

When she arrived, she saw Stellara sitting cross-legged in the light of the quarter moon, naked as the day she was born. The light played over her skin, shining as though she were made of some unearthly metal. Her braided hair fell over her back, the golden rings bright against the whole of her. She was like a shadow in the bright pool of moonlight.

“Trying to pull me in?” Hypatia said, giving her ample notice of her arrival in case she wanted to be left alone.

“It’s my nature,” she replied, turning her head. Again, Hypatia swore her eyes had changed, this time to a sharp purple, but walking closer turned them back to green. “Care to join me?”

“What are you doing?”

“Starbathing.”

Hypatia sat on a log beside her, gazing with her up at the moon. “You seem as enamored of the stars as I do. Are you certain you haven’t hidden any gems?”

“You would have found them by now, I dare say,” Stellara replied, grinning up at her from the ground.

Hypatia smirked. Stellara stood and joined her on the log.

“Have you heard the story of the moon’s daughter?” she asked, tilting her head back and looking above them.

“I don’t think so,” she replied.

“The moon once had a daughter, kept sheltered against the side of her that remained in shadow. Her daughter never knew there was anything else to the world but the crags and ice of the dark side of the moon.” Stellara lifted her hand as a small beetle crawled across her finger. Gently, she lowered it to the ground. “One day a comet flew by and she watched it, enraptured at the light and fire it cast. It came close, and with caprice born of ignorance, she leaped for it, grabbing onto its tail as it careened through space. Eventually, the comet crashed into our land, and the moon’s daughter was adopted by fae. They loved her dearly and with them she grew and learned about the world and all the riches she had never known existed.”

“What did her mother think of that?” Hypatia asked, knowing her own would have torn open the sky to reclaim her.

“Well, the moon was none too pleased at the disappearance of her daughter, and when she realized what had happened, turned her face from the planet until her daughter was returned. The fae were reluctant, but without the moon they lived in constant night, and with constant night there was no place for happiness. The moon’s daughter realized this, and one night while none were with her, she returned.”

“And gave up all she’d grown to love?” Hypatia asked, surprised at how frustrated she was by the story’s culmination.

Stellara smiled, “Well, she made a compromise with her mother, you see. One month, once a year, she would leave and return to the place she’d grown to love. Her mother begrudgingly approved, so long as her daughter agreed to leave and return when the moon was full so that she could guard her departure and return. Now she gets one month to explore new lands and people, experiencing what she otherwise was never able to.”

“I suppose it could have ended worse,” Hypatia said, still unsatisfied. “Although I might have driven a harder bargain.”

“It’s good you’re a child of the void, then, and not the moon. She’s a harsh mistress to appeal to.” Stellara tucked one of Hypatia’s curls behind her ear, replacing it with the softness of her lips. Hypatia smiled as Stellara left trails of kisses from her neck to her hips, slowly peeling back layers of the artful rags the Selunari wore as clothing as she went.

“I’ve told you about the moon. Now I want you to tell me about the Void,” she said, lips lingering on the inside of Hypatia’s hip, fingers tracing the skin of her inner thigh. “In detail.” Her eyes, cast away though they were, danced with mischief. Her braids twisted in the darkness.

“What more do you want to know?” Hypatia asked, not willing to give up her secrets so quickly. The woman’s whims were no longer strange to her, and she took no small pleasure in denying Stellara hers. “I’ve talked your ear off the past few days.”

“I’d hear more, if you’d be so kind.” Her voice purred and her breath was hot between Hypatia’s thighs. For a moment she forgot what the question was.

“Always happy to indulge.”

She spoke her poetry into the stars above them until her words became screams and she felt her body empty itself completely to the space between the stars.

The moon was bright and round in the sky when Stellara pulled Hypatia to the dock.

“You could come with me, you know,” she said, not for the first time, but assuredly for the last.

“I know,” Hypatia replied, for the hundredth time stopping at the precipice of saying yes. She’d had an inkling, just about since they’d met, that Stellara was not the mortal pirate she so claimed. Looking at the boat, miraculously intact under the full moon and crawling with deck hands as well-dressed and perfect as Stellara herself, she reckoned she was probably right.

Saying yes would not result in a journey across the sea. She suspected she might end up somewhere altogether different.

Stellara smiled, acknowledging her decision. She stepped forward and took the Selunari’s hands in her own, placing a kiss upon her lips that was equal parts sweetness and despair. “I’ve never met someone quite like you before, Hypatia Vasko.”

“And I you,” she replied in kind, half-surprised she had found her voice.

“You likely won’t ever again,” Stellara grinned, her impish smile burned into Hypatia’s mind. “Think of me fondly, would you, when you bid goodnight to the moon?”

“I will,” Hypatia nodded. Stellara dropped her hands and turned toward the boat, swaggering down the dock the same way she’d appeared a month before. She boarded the gangplank set by one of the sailors, and as soon as she’d set foot on the deck, a shout of joy went up from her crew. It was a shout of homecoming and relief, and Hypatia was glad to see her leave in a better state than she had arrived.

She ship set forth, making nearly no sound in the uncharacteristically calm waters. She watched it depart, a foreign vessel flying swiftly out to sea until it blinked out of sight against the horizon.

Hypatia looked up at the moon shining full down upon her. She turned her face to the light, an impish grin upon her lips as she blew it a kiss and returned the way she’d come.