#trunks of epic intelligence

[takhy-dh]

Day 7 - Enchanted. There are so many mysterious enchanted things in Divinity games, but at the start of the first Original Sin you wake up remembering nothing about yourself, and all you have in your inventory are this old wizard's trunks and they can actually talk.

[devil-doll13]

Case Study: Lycanthropy

A.k.a. The Werewolf

(Public Domain. 19th Century. A werewolf devouring a woman. From a XIX c. engraving. From the Mansell Collection, London.)

- - -

History:

We were made aware of the existence of werewolves in the early 15th century, when an unnamed lycanthrope was found and killed in mid-Germany. Of course, the history of lycanthropes dates far back beyond this period, as one of earliest mentions of such beasts can be found dating back to Ancient Greece, and some scholars even cite the Epic of Gilgamesh as the first literary example of a person being transformed into a wolf.

Since then, numerous theories as to the origins of lycanthropy have been posited, the most prevalent being that lycanthropy is a malicious curse created by Black Magick, a curse which is passed on from carrier to carrier via infection. Certainly, devil-worshiping witches and sorcerers have been recorded changing shape from human to animal on more than one occasion.

They remain our common enemies, In part due to their ability to create more of their kind via bite. For this reason, any infected, whether man, woman or child, are to be immediately shot and killed to prevent the spreading of their race. Remember, werewolves are the 3rd most lethal species on our record and are estimated to be responsible for up to 400 or more deaths a year. You will be doing the world a service.

Characteristics:

A lycanthrope refers to a creature who, under the full moon, will transform into a vicious beast that will hunger for the flesh of both human and animals. As time has went on, we discovered that they may also change at will, and they frequently are found to be responsible for the destruction of entire villages.

While transformed, they appear to be monstrous wolf-man hybrids with powerful jaws and razor sharp claws. They are extremely strong, with the most infamous reported to be able to lift entire tree trunks, as well as carriages and train cars. They can bite through bone, wood and it seems even metal, and are suspected to have exceptional regenerative capabilities.

A lone lycanthrope is uncommon, as most live in pairs or groups of up to 15 at a time, the greatest example of this being the infamous Bowers’ Gang. This poses a difficulty for lone hunters, and so we do not advise you to ever face a werewolf alone. Even if it appears as if they are solitary, there may be others hiding in wait.

They can live up to 200 years old, as found by our researchers after conducting a study on the so called ‘Edinburgh Dog Man,’ and it is suspected that there are numerous ancient clans

When detecting lycanthropes in human form, unusually coloured eyes (often golden or orange), elongated canines and fingernails, abnormal hair growth, as well as ‘growling or sniffing’ are the telltale signs to look out for. However, every case should be investigated first in order to avoid unnecessary civilian fatalities.

Weaknesses:

Aconitum, also known as ‘Aconite,’ ‘Monkshood,’ and ‘Wolfsbane’ has no scent that can be picked up by humans, however lycanthropes show signs of discomfort when presented with it. It has proven to be a useful method of detecting werewolves, most famously used by the monk Edward Rothschild. Of course, as all species of this plant are highly toxic to humans, handle with care.

Silver is the most reported weakness of lycanthropes and it is essential that you always have silver bullets on hand. Because their wolf pelts are so thick, guns are preferred over blades which may break easily or become unwieldy or stuck. It is unlikely you will want to be in close contact with a lycanthrope at any rate.

In their transformed state, it has been observed that their intelligence becomes lowered, particularly in younger lycanthropes. A younger werewolf seems more liable to animalistic frenzy, but older werewolves are cunning and experienced. You must exercise caution when planning out your attacks.

As always, fire and explosives such as dynamite prove to be consistently reliable and effective, as well as useful for destroying any evidence you leave behind.

Warning: The salt, mercury and wood theories have all been thoroughly debunked. Do NOT attempt to use these strategies.

Notes:

Shapeshifters taking the forms of another species are rare, but not unheard of. Bears, Foxes and Snakes are the most common outside of the standard ‘Wolf Man’ variant. However, not enough research has been conducted on these types to form a clear understanding of them yet.

We advise our good Hunters not to chase after big names such as Joshua Silver and Magnus Alfson so hastily. These names are blacklisted for a reason, and will likely require hunting parties in order to take down. However, if you believe you have encountered a blacklisted name, notify higher ups.

If you are bitten and infected in the line of duty, we salute you for your service and pray the Lord may welcome you into his Heaven upon entry. God bless you.

- - -

Date: January 28th, 1908

Signed: Virginia Hoode

[makinggodsofindia]

Ganesha's Symbolism

Ganesh, also known as Ganesha, is one of the most beloved and revered Hindu deities. He is the son of Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati and is worshipped as the god of wisdom, prosperity, and good fortune. Ganesh is easily recognizable by his unique iconography, which features various symbolic elements. In this essay, we will explore the symbolism behind the various parts of Ganesh's iconography.

The Elephant Head : The most distinctive feature of Ganesh's iconography is his elephant head. According to Hindu mythology,

Ganesh was originally a human boy, but his head was severed by Lord Shiva during a fit of anger. In order to restore him to life, Lord Shiva replaced his head with that of an elephant. The elephant head represents wisdom, intelligence, and memory. The large ears symbolize the ability to listen attentively, while the small eyes represent concentration and focus. The trunk is said to symbolize the ability to discriminate between good and bad, and the ability to remove obstacles.

The Broken Tusk Ganesh is often depicted holding a broken tusk in his right hand. According to legend, Ganesh was writing the epic Mahabharata with a quill when the quill broke. Ganesh then used his tusk to continue writing, thus demonstrating his resourcefulness and adaptability. The broken tusk also represents sacrifice and the willingness to give up something in order to gain wisdom.

The Four Arms Ganesh is often depicted with four arms, each holding a different object. The four arms represent the four aspects of the mind: the intellect, the ego, the conscience, and the consciousness. The objects held by the arms have various symbolic meanings. The lotus flower represents purity and enlightenment. The axe symbolizes the ability to cut off attachments and overcome obstacles. The rope represents the power of love to bind people together. The sweetmeat (laddoo) represents the reward of spiritual attainment.

The Big Belly Ganesh is often depicted with a big belly, which is said to represent his ability to digest all experiences, good and bad. The belly symbolizes the need to overcome greed and material desires, and to cultivate contentment and detachment. The large belly also represents abundance, prosperity, and fertility.

The Mouse Ganesh is often depicted riding on a mouse, which is considered to be his vehicle or mount. The mouse represents the ego, which is often seen as a small and insignificant part of the mind, yet one that can cause great trouble if left unchecked. Ganesh's ability to ride the mouse represents his mastery over his ego, and his ability to control his desires and impulses.

Each element represents an aspect of the human psyche and provides guidance on how to live a virtuous and fulfilling life. Ganesh's elephant head symbolizes wisdom, intelligence, and memory. His broken tusk represents sacrifice and the willingness to give up something in order to gain wisdom. His four arms represent the four aspects of the mind, and the objects held by the arms have various symbolic meanings. His big belly represents contentment and detachment, as well as abundance and prosperity. Finally, his mouse represents the need to control the ego and cultivate self-mastery. By understanding the symbolism behind Ganesh's iconography, we can gain a deeper appreciation for this beloved deity.

-makinggodsofindia with ChatGPT

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[bulgingposers]

Here’s an interesting—and very sexy—bit of bodybuilding trivia. In the late 70s and early 80s, male bodybuilders weren’t yet so freakishly huge that they stopped appealing to the masses. In fact, this was the era in which Arnold was breaking out and crossing over into the mainstream, and such ridiculously handsome men as Frank Zane, Chris Dickerson, Scott Wilson, Robbie Robinson, Clint Beyerle, and—very soon—Bob Paris and Matt Mendenhall were all at their competitive best. At the same time, the “sport” still wouldn’t veer wildly off from its homoerotic beginnings in exchange for a cartoonish and uptight conservatism for another decade and a half or so, meaning the magazines all featured photo spreads that blatantly presented these men as both impressive athletes and erotic objects, and the shows themselves were intentionally promoted to gay and straight audiences alike. Also, as this was the sexual “golden age”—following the introduction of the birth control pill and the legalization of reproductive choice, but preceding the AIDS epidemic—American culture was generally much freer and more open than ever before to all things carnal. An industry that revolved around the presentation and fetishization of nearly-nude, idealized bodies, far from being a weird and risqué subculture, actually met the National moment almost perfectly.

While Schwarzenegger was probably the most intuitive about how to deploy his bulky sexuality in exchange for fame—whether via his infamous remarks comparing “the pump” to cumming, or, soon enough, by actually simulating intense erotic pleasure and a powerful orgasm during the insane but incredibly hot “wolf witch” sex scene in the first Conan movie—it was actually his nemesis Mike Mentzer who was most frequently held up as the epitome of masculine beauty, raw sensuality, and hyper-virile horniness. A stunningly handsome man originally from The East Coast, Mentzer looks, to the modern eye, like the very prototype of the mustachioed, shaggy-haired, muscle hunk especially beloved by gay men of the time. He’s more Colt than pretty much any of the men Jim French actually photographed. Not only was he incredibly popular and in-demand as a guest poser for amateur bodybuilding shows in the off season, but he became noted far outside the niche and insular Iron Game, getting offered more than one astronomical sum of cash to pose nude for publications that ran the gamut from mainstream to fringe. Unfortunately, while known for being infuriatingly certain of his political and philosophical beliefs—which were pretty much cribbed whole from the appallingly stupid and reactionary novels of Ayn Rand—he was relatively modest about his physique and declined every offer. That’s the world’s loss, of course. However, at the very end of the 1970s, he, er, decided to throw the world a bit of a bone, so to speak, almost certainly at the urging of the Machiavellian Joe Weider, modern bodybuilding’s architect and kingpin, who knew how to recognize the zeitgeist when it was upon him. Mentzer, who even daytime talk show hosts of the period were referring to as a straight-up “sex object,” wouldn’t technically bare all for the financial gain of some sleazy pornographer. Instead, he’d keep it covered and “classy”—but, through the use of some sort of preternaturally thin cotton trunks, he’d still be offering up the goods in their full abundance, netting both him and Weider the spoils in the end. And, indeed, when the March 1979 issue of Muscle Builder and Power debuted on the stands, with Mike stoically yet unabashedly, posing in such a manner that there was nothing whatsoever left to the imagination, it was a massive seller. Gay men and straight women knew exactly what they were buying and, as for the straight guys, well, in point of fact those were some pretty wide-cut briefs, even for that era.

In a way, that cover and the accompanying photo spread ultimately proved to be Mike Mentzer’s crowning moment. The following year, Weider brazenly “fixed” the Mr. Olympia in order to crown Arnold Schwarzenegger—who had come out of “retirement” and looked every bit of it—a seventh time. Disgusted, Mentzer vowed never to return to the competition stage. He kept that promise, all the while making his own success by developing and marketing his “Heavy Duty” exercise program, often in the company of his younger brother Ray, also an athlete. Tragically, however, he spiraled over the ensuing decades into serious drug use, mental illness, and a dogged fixation on Rand’s “Objectivist” worldview. In a truly bizarre twist of fate, Mike and Ray Mentzer died within hours of one another in June 2001, both reduced to sharing a tiny apartment and living off cheap junk food. An ignoble end to a competitor who not only brought amazing looks and intelligence to the table, but whose body was genuinely magnificent.

Fortunately, he left behind these photos along with countless other visual reminders of his excellence. The videos of his various guest posing routines on offer from GMV are truly stunning. And while the man himself is gone, both Heavy Duty and the memory of his epic manly beauty remain.

[jujujitsu]

Hey there! For the author asks: 9, 15, 18, 23!

Really enjoying your work, it's nice to see original characters and high fantasy.

So, MAJOR blushing happening. Let's get to it. 9) What, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

Music. I cannot stress enough that I have to listen to music. I hear something and scenes start playing in my mind like I'm watching a movie. EDM or instrumental pieces do it for me. Reading, of course. Stephen King said it best, "If you don't have time to read, then you don't have the time or the tools to write." Never mind how terrible he is at writing women. (A whoreish sprawl LAWL) Watching anime, shows, etc. BIG obvious.

15) Why did you start writing?

I remember being a kid and having this grand imagination. I would have these ideas with my toys and play out these epic made up tales with my friends. One day I decided to write them out at the age of 10 (Year 2000ish?).

18) Were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?

When Harry Potter became huge, I decided it needed more dragons and that they should be intelligent so I did my own fan fiction. I got into Dragon Ball Z in 5th grade? CRUSHED HARD on Gohan during Cell Saga and played Legend of Dragoon a lot so I wanted to blend those two worlds together. Insert awful OC with silver hair here and precursor to Adelaide. Then Gohan ended up being disappointing but Trunks wasn't! That motherfucker had a sword too! 6th grade was spent writing a 500 page fan fiction about my embarrassing OC By hand. Didn't have a computer yet. 7th grade I finally wrote a bunch of OC shit with my boyfriend at the time. It was so dumb but we wrote together and it was a good time. My embarrassing OC changed names here. 10th grade I remember reading Forgotten Realms The Legend of Drizzt series and I had this idea for a character like him. I was obsessed with drow and dark elves. However, I wanted to make my own thing. Mist Elves sprang from my imagination and Valarade was born. He needed a world and an adventure so, Adelaide and her winged-ass was written in. Champions was suppose to be about Valarade but, lol, Adelaide and the Aeons took over big time. My OC became...less cringe and I've been working on this since. Of course this goes without saying, Tolkein. Legend of Dragoon was the BIGGEST influence and elements of that game are SUPER obvious. Forgotten Realms The Legend of Drizzt and all of R.A. Salvtore's works helped with writing action scenes.

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

Yes, actually. In 2012 I started journeying down the pagan path. There are elements of my practice in my writing. Two of my guides in real life are written into the story as well. Angelic and Viking themed shit is spread throughout, but it isn't overdone. There's things you will read and be like OH. I know where that's from. If you practice, you'll find little easter eggs about the real deal shit.

[xiolaperry]

The Piano

Notes: My Camp NaNoWriMo Project for April 2020.  A Rumbelling of the 1993 movie 'The Piano'. Has 15 chapters, all are written. I’ll post one every few days. Some dialogue is taken directly from the film and from 'Once Upon a Time'. No copyright infringement intended - I'm just having fun. The film is gorgeous, if you haven't seen it, I highly recommend that you watch it.

Summary:  Belle French and her daughter arrive in New Zealand to an arranged marriage with Gaston LeGume.  Gaston shows little interest in her or her piano and books. However, Mr. Gold is fascinated... 

Rating: E (for future chapters) Also available on AO3.

Prologue

The voice you hear is not my speaking voice, but my mind's.

I have not spoken since I was six years old. No one knows why, not even me. My father says it is a dark talent and the day I take it into my head to stop breathing will be my last.

Today he has married me to a man I've not met. Soon my daughter and I shall join him in his own country. My husband has written that my muteness does not bother him.

I hope he has patience, for silence affects everyone in the end.

The strange thing is I don't think of myself as silent, because of my piano. I shall miss it, and my books, on the journey.

Chapter 1

Belle looked down at the sand between her feet. It rushed away from her and back again in the cold seawater. Poor Tilly hunched over, ill from their turbulent journey in the small boat from the ship to the beach.

The rough sailors unloading their cargo dwarfed diminutive Belle. She watched them, concerned for her books and piano. She was less interested in the other boxes and valises that held her trousseau and other household goods. 

The men complained bitterly about the heavy trunks and the awkward crate. Their language was shocking. Perhaps they thought her deaf too? It wouldn't be the first time. Belle struggled to keep a smile on her face.

She could relax now that her three most precious things were ashore: her daughter, her books, and her piano. Full of curiosity at her unfamiliar surroundings, she did not know where to look first. She had read about New Zealand before they left. The descriptions of the flora and fauna, and the Maori people, fascinated her. She gazed about the desolate beach and the rocky cliffs in the distance, topped with verdant green foliage. The wind tugged at her hair. This was her grand adventure. She would be brave for herself and her daughter. Maurice, her father, hadn't given her much choice in the matter, but it was an adventure nonetheless. There weren't many opportunities for women back home. Perhaps it would be different here.

During the long days of their journey, she had spun endless tales with her hands. Of heroes and beasts, of princesses meeting princes and epic quests. Would a prince be waiting for them? She didn't know. But Tilly loved stories and would embellish them with details of her own, a habit she also indulged in as Belle's interpreter.

A few of the men were hesitant to leave tiny Belle French and her nine-year-old daughter alone on the beach. Their group was not yet there to meet them. She wanted them and their rough words gone. She signed to Tilly, who told them, “She says, 'Thank you for bringing our belongings. We will be fine here. Please leave us. We insist.'”

With that, the seamen left, pushing their boats across the sand and back onto the waves. Belle and Tilly were alone on the vast expanse of shoreline. They arranged their possessions around the piano and trunks of books. She sat down on one of them with Tilly's head on her lap. A plank of the large crate that held her piano had split. She pulled at it and reached her hand inside to stroke the smooth keys. She played a tune one-handed, bringing them both comfort.

After Tilly rested, Belle got her favorite book from her satchel. She had kept ‘Her Handsome Hero’ with her for the journey. The rest of her books waited, wrapped in their waterproof canvas inside her trunks. Tilly read their favorite chapter aloud.

Belle felt the first gnawing of concern for their safety alone on the beach when the sun sank golden on the horizon. But she made it into a game for Tilly, finding dry wood to start a fire and fashioning a makeshift tent from her crinoline cage and petticoats. Inside the little cocoon, Tilly interrupted Belle's story of a beautiful princess and a dark sorcerer. Grabbing her hands, she said, “Mama, I've been thinking. I bet he's not a prince. He's not even here. I'm NOT going to call him Papa. I'm not going to call him anything.”

Belle stroked her daughter's face, refusing to be drawn into a disagreement. Tilly quieted and soon sleep claimed them.

 -

In the forest's dampness traveled eight Maori men, an old woman, and two European men. Gaston Legume walked stiffly, his manner one of disdain for the surrounding vegetation. He had been living in New Zealand for several years. He had made himself some money right away, logging his property of valuable large trees used to build masts for ships, but now it was a constant fight to keep the land clear. Unlike the Maori who walked with grace through the underbrush, Gaston had an axe to beat it away. Nature, like some people, needed a firm hand and confidence.

He knew he was handsome, with his height and ebony hair, and took pride in his appearance. This morning he had taken pains with his dress and was resentful of the humidity that was ruining his look. He wanted to be at his best to greet his new wife. He stopped to comb his hair and took a moment to study the photo he had of her. Belle French was beautiful. She looked calm and sounded reasonable in her letter. She would be a worthy companion. After all the waiting, he would meet her soon.

Mr. Gold was the other European man of the party. None of them knew his first name, which was how he wanted it. Names were important. They had power. The Maori respected him for it. The settlers saw it as more proof of his misanthropic nature. 

Gaston had asked for his help with the Maori, needing assistance to carry his new bride's possessions. But Gaston did not speak their language and did not deign to learn it. Gold was fluent (another strike against him in the settler’s minds). So he went along to fetch the woman and her daughter. And Gaston now owed him a favor.

With the aid of a walking stick, he was more graceful than the lumbering Gaston. Gold was slight where Gaston was broad, quiet and observant where Gaston was brash and stubborn. Gaston was well-liked. At least, he appeared to be. Gold was not. Except by the Maori and Granny. Granny had left the settlement and joined the Maori people, learning their language and customs, after her husband died and no one else did anything to help her. He didn’t care about the rest of the settlers, there wasn’t a genuine one in the bunch. They came to this new land and expected it to bend to their will, to change into the same society they had left. Gold had no patience for them. They resented him because of the property he owned, the money he had and the influence he wielded over the locals.

The group continued on through the vegetation and reached the sand below. In the distance, they could see a collection of boxes, a crate, and trunks. A tiny figure appeared to be dancing about. As soon as she noticed they had company, she ran to a woman sitting next to the largest crate.

Belle watched the odd group come toward them. There was a tall, well dressed man and natives attired in all manner of eccentric clothes adorned with feathers and beads. One even wore a top hat. A slight man and an old woman with a crossbow brought up the rear. She stood up. This was it.

Gaston approached his bride. She was small, tiny actually. Barely larger than the child she had with her.

“Miss French. I am Gaston Legume,” he said with a bow.

Belle smiled politely and curtsied. He was too tall. He towered over her. But it wasn't fair to hold that against him. He did have the face of the prince Tilly hoped for.

“I have men here to carry your things,” he continued. He knew she didn't speak, but he expected her to show some excitement. “CAN – YOU – HEAR – ME?” His tone brought to mind that of a man speaking to a dim-witted child.

Belle nodded, keeping her smile firmly fixed on her face and smothering her irritation. This was not the most auspicious of beginnings.

Gold watched these first interactions from a short distance away. Of course she could hear. Anyone with a brain could see she was listening to everything that was going on. Her blue eyes sparkled with intelligence. How long would it take this girl to figure out she was married to a conceited fool?

---

End Notes: A huge thank you to the Rumbelle Writers' Realm at Camp Nano- I couldn't have done it without your encouragement: @emospritelet @peacehopeandrats @eirian-houpe @blueboxesanddeerstalkers @kelyon @worryinglyinnocent @jackabelle73 @avatoh @reolf @mrs-stiltskin. Special thanks to @jackabelle73 and @blueboxesanddeerstalkers for beta reading!

[bubble-tea-bunny]

before you go

[sidon x reader]

author’s note: i swear this story wasn’t even meant to be like, that long, but i just kept adding scenes. hope you enjoyyy

word count: 16,475

PROLOGUE

Millennia have passed since the day the ruins were swallowed up by darkness, but the witch in those woods remembers it well. She sees it vividly in her mind’s eye like yesterday: thick trunks of towering trees, whose roots cling deep in the earth, extending their branches with their lush green leaves, growing closer and closer and closer until the last sliver of sunlight disappears, no longer welcomed on the forest floor.

The light isn’t missed. What creatures lay in hiding here thrive without it, nocturnal animals left to roam all hours of the day, surrounded by perpetual night. Torches scattered throughout the maze of this forest, hanging on sconces of crumbling stone walls and statues, are ignited by the daring adventurer trying to find their way to the center. But they never get far, turning around and using their trail markers to direct their way back out, and with the passing hours, the flames flicker and whither, dying down to embers.

No one has found the witch. Her hut rests deep in the woods, in a shadowy corner that most have failed to reach. The lack of disturbances means she can work without interruption. She tends to a small garden whose herbs grow beneath the dim light of a lantern strung up on a nearby branch. When they’re fully grown, she harvests then organizes them on a shelf, where they sit ready to be mixed into her newest elixir.

They work well for a good portion of the concoctions she creates: healing tonics, draughts of strength, sleeping potions for the restless and nightmare-riddled. She keeps them in tinted glass bottles with cork stoppers and knows exactly which elixir is stored where. The magic she practices is hardly sinister, and she’s content to keep this peace. The magic she practices is innocent, until one day, it isn’t.

She finds the recipe in an old leather-bound tome covered in dust. The language is old but she understands it (well, what still remains that hadn’t faded with time, that is). The book is vague about what the potion grants, but all she knows is that given what it asks for, it must be powerful. To create it would be crossing over into more harmful forms of magic, yet she can’t find it within herself to push away the biting curiosity to delve more into what she has discovered. The aged volume seems to pulse with life in her aged hands, exuding a power of its own that prevents her from putting it down and forgetting what she was seen.

Gathering the ingredients would be a difficult and lengthy process, but she’s learned to be patient. She wouldn’t be going out to collect them; they would come to her. And they do, steadily, in the form of the rare travelers with the intelligence and determination to venture further into the forest, closer to the middle, and closer to the witch’s hut.

She doesn’t hurt them. She won’t hurt them. And she says that to them quietly even though they can’t hear her, having passed out due to her sleeping potion. She only needs one thing, one little thing, if they would be so kind as to hand it over…

By the time the traveler wakes up, they’re back on the path illuminated by their own hand, and they can’t remember ever happening upon the witch. There are other bits too, other recollections they won’t be able to recall, though when (if) they finally realize that, they’ll be far from this place, and thoroughly at a loss as to what happened to that one corner of their brain where memories are hazy, like staring through fogged glass, aching to see what lies on the other side clearly, but unable to do so.

Those stolen memories stay with the witch now, radiant essences in purples and yellows and blues, floating and curling in their bottles. They’re pretty to watch. She lines them up, checks off the list of ingredients one by one in the tome: anger, empathy, happiness, innocence… All taken from the unfortunate souls who come into the dark woods. They don’t anticipate losing anything other than time in the day, and as far as they’ll be able to tell, that is the only thing they lose while exploring here. It’s a small mercy, the witch reckons, that they won’t notice.

She has only one ingredient left, but there has been no one to collect it from. It’s as though the universe understands that’s she is so close to being done, and has delayed the moment when she should find what she is searching for, building the tension, the suspense. For all the patience she has practiced for the centuries she has lived, she’s never felt antsier than this instant, the days passing like years. The lighting of torches signals the presence of another lone wanderer, but she doesn’t see those spots of orange flames.

Her frustration is palpable. and she sighs heavily. She can do nothing but wait.

———

I.

The roar of the waterfall is a comforting white noise to Sidon, and it gently pulls him into the waking world at the break of dawn. His eyes crack open, serving witness to the rising sun washing over the water and painting the town in golden light. He’s always sluggish in the mornings, in no rush to push away the grogginess beckoning him back to sleep for a couple more minutes, or several, or maybe another hour if there’s nothing of note to attend to.

This morning, he nearly rolls over to continue sleeping, but his gaze passes over the folded parchment on the nightstand, and as if he’d been shocked, he sits up straight, fully alert. Reaching over to grab the letter, he opens it to reread it for—well, actually, he’s lost count of how many times he’s read it. He skims it, looks for the date mentioned to confirm that yes, that’s today.

It’s still early for most of the other Zora to be up, but those who are greet Sidon with a quiet good morning. He smiles and returns them all without stopping his stride. No one tries to get him to pause a moment for conversation, and he’s certain they all know where he’s going for his walking to be so purposeful. This has happened many times before, and when Sidon is set on something, he thinks little of anything else. Kayden especially understands this, for he grins as Sidon approaches the steps to the inn, already knowing why he’s there.

Kayden needn’t speak, only nudging his head to the side, in the direction of the beds. Sidon nods in thanks and quietly searches for his goal, footfalls silent so as not to disturb those slumbering. He finds it on the far end, separated from the others who have checked in for the evening, and he feels a large smile creeping onto his face, unable to be contained.

He sits on the edge of your bed, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face. Your nose scrunches as the silky strands pass over the sensitive skin of your cheeks. Then your face relaxes again, and he thinks you’ve continued to sleep. He wouldn’t mind if that’s the case. He just wanted to see you, to feel you and know that you’re here again. And it would be enough to hold him over until you finally woke, and he would be graced with the sound of your voice.

It turns out he doesn’t have to wait, for you groan quietly and your eyes are brilliant even if only half-open with fatigue. You hum and it’s as if you’re trying to say his name, to question if it’s him, but you don’t have the energy to enunciate it properly. He understands perfectly anyway and says yes, it’s him, and he’s so happy you’re back.

He sets a hand on your face, being careful of his claws as he strokes your cheek. He’s considerably larger than you are, and the size of his hand emphasizes this fact more. You lay your own over his and hum again. It’s not another attempt to say his name or any other words. Rather, it’s one of contentment, almost a purr, and Sidon’s chest tightens and he can’t believe how much he can miss someone. You murmur that you’re happy your back too because home is where the heart is and you’d buried yours here a long time ago.

You yawn and stretch your arms, and he gives you time to wake up more fully. Once you’ve blinked away the last of the sleepiness, he stands and offers you his hand, asking if you would like to regale your adventures to him over breakfast. You grin and nod, accepting his hand to help you up.

Sidon won’t deny that he worries for you when you’re exploring. He knows you can fight, can take of yourself, but Hyrule is vast and there are dark corners with monsters even someone of your ability will struggle against. He says to spare no details of your journey so you don’t, recounting the close calls (of which there are more than he would like, though he would prefer none at all), and he calms himself down by assuring himself that you sitting across from him isn’t some figment of his imagination. You’re real. Though if that’s not enough, and he needs more proof to keep him grounded, he reaches across to feel your soft skin beneath his fingers.

It’s like he’s being told a bedtime story with the sense of epic your retellings contain, filled with obstacles and triumph, and he thinks he’ll dream of it tonight, dream of you being front and center, the hero trekking through the land on a quest. Not that he hasn’t already dreamed of you. Sometimes, when his heart is especially heavy and he’s laden with gloom to be so far from you, he dreams of calm waters and of you sitting at its shore, the low tide lapping at your feet and your toes curled in the cold dirt. Then you see him watching you and smile, beckoning him over, and he’s overcome with a sensation that it’s actually you he’s observing there, that you’ve stepped into his dream from wherever you are in Hyrule, reminding him no distance is too great to feel you are ever truly apart.

Of course, it’s all fanciful speculation with no bearing in reality, inspired by a love that makes him wax lyrical like he’s a natural born poet with one muse in mind (but he has no desire for any other because you’re the only one he needs). You don’t actually have the power to traverse through dreams, but it does feel like you when he sees you and interacts with you and Sidon figures that’s because his soul knows yours so well.

Being higher up in the mountains, the weather in Lanayru is more temperate, and you like to bask in the breeze and the sunlight from outside the town, away from the noise. Sidon joins you, and he admits to you that every now and then he comes out here while you’re away, but it doesn’t feel the same.

“This beauty is difficult to enjoy with no one to appreciate it with,” he remarks softly.

You smile and lean your head on his shoulder. “I saw the most incredible statues in Gerudo and thought the same thing.”

The two of you are perched on the edge of a small cliff overlooking the Zora River, where you aren’t going to be interrupted anytime soon considering it’s sizable distance from town. There were plenty of other wonderful areas from which to survey the strong current of water as it flows downstream, towards the wetlands, that are closer to Ruto Lake, but you like to come here because the air at the Bank of Wishes feels different somehow, in a way Sidon can’t delineate with words but he sees it in the sparkle of your eye when the sun shines over you just right.

Stepping onto this small section of leveled ground is to cross the threshold into a realm where things are not as they seem, and you’re privy to the revelation that this is where the strings of the world are tinkered with and manipulated. It pulls the sun and the moon across the sky, pulls the strings of a soul like a harp and the ensuing breathy sigh of a fondness newly discovered is the song. It pulls you and Sidon with threads wrapped around your fingers, guiding you here, and then towards each other. And Sidon loves nothing more than to hear you sing.

He’d stumbled across you once, having arrived at the bank before he did, and he nearly called your name but remained quiet once he realized you were preoccupied with a red container. The stems of blue nightshades are looped through the small ring on the thick golden band wrapped around the cylindrical vessel, which you’re taking extra care with securing. You continue to kneel next to it even after ensuring the flowers won’t slip out, and he can’t hear what you’re saying but he thinks he knows what words you whisper.

Then you push the container into the water, and it lands with a small splash. You stare as the current takes it around the bend, and when it’s out of sight, Sidon comes out from his hiding place. You turn around, eyes wide in surprise to be caught off guard, but you relax at the sight of him and Hylia’s blessing rests in the curve of your lips and he could live there forever. He understands the glow of those flowers was a piece of yourself and you’d wished for it to seek out the one you wanted to give it to, and the water fairy is constantly listening because he stands before you now, and his heart warms at your knocking of the front door, and he knows pretty blue nightshades wait on the other side for him to welcome home.

You point out a school of fish near the surface of the water that’s passing by, and Sidon watches them with you as he takes hold of your free hand resting in your lap, anchoring himself to the moment. He’d happily live out his existence here with you.

He promises one day you’ll travel through Hyrule together. He can’t easily leave Zora’s Domain because of his obligations as prince, and you understand, you do, and in return he wants to give you better, he wants to give you everything. But your soft smile lets him know that he is more than enough for you. This universe could fall away around you both and he’s not sure you’d notice.

“I’ll have my darling prince to protect me then,” you state teasingly.

“You will,” Sidon responds, equally playful, but then the tone shifts and the jest fades and as he gently strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, he assures you that he’d always keep you safe. He would gladly be your knight.

While he would like to spend every hour in your presence, that simply isn’t possible, and he reluctantly leaves you to your own devices as he attends to his duties. You have no issue filling that time with conversing casually with the other Zora and with travelers about where they plan to go next. It’s from conversations with the latter that you tend to draw inspiration for deciding your next point of interest.

A fellow Hylian shares the rumors of skeleton horses in the Tabantha tundra which show up in the middle of the night, their red undead eyes like omens of ill fate. It sounds scary, she says, but apparently they’re gone by morning. Not even bones are left. She’s intent to witness these creatures herself, and she’s stocking up well here in Zora’s Domain since it’s a far journey. The idea of skeleton horses certainly grabs your attention, but you don’t think you’re as intent to travel so far, since you’d just arrived from Gerudo.

The Goron in Coral Reef mentions that he had just visited Lurelin Village, the small fishing town on the southern coast. The weather’s a little warmer, a little more humid, but that could easily be alleviated by dipping into the ocean for a swim. He paints the picture easily for you, of the turquoise waves and white sand beaches. He exclaims that the seafood paella is like nothing you’ve ever eaten before, and your mouth waters merely thinking of what it would be like to taste. You’d heard of it before, but never had the opportunity to try it.

He laughs at the glazed look in your eyes, your thoughts on Lurelin Village’s famed dish. “I’m tellin’ ya, ya gotta go down there and order yourself some!”

You nod in agreement and yeah, you do need to go down there to try the seafood paella! The Goron guffaws again and pats you on the back—That’s what I like to hear!—but he’s strong and even the light clap between the shoulder blades nearly makes you tumble to the ground.  

With your mind made up, you settle down in a quiet corner to take out your map and plot a route to the seaside town. It’s still in Necluda, which means the actual travel time to get there and back won’t be long at all. You could make the Dueling Peaks stable your halfway point and cut through the forests, heading east for a short duration until the trails begin leading further south. You wouldn’t be gone as long as you were last time, and perhaps you could learn to make the paella and buy the proper ingredients to recreate here for Sidon to try too. Yes, this is perfect!

You sit back and review what you’ve drawn out on the map and the notes you’ve written on the sides. This map had been a recent purchase, considering your old one had been torn to shreds after a run-in with bokoblins. As such, it lacks the messiness of your original copy, which contained multiple lines representing the routes you’ve taken on your travels, as well as even more notes scribbled on the sides with tips or reminders. While this new map is certainly easier to read due to the lack of pencil marks all over the place, it’s missing the charm. But you suppose that’s hardly going to be a problem as you continue to move around Hyrule and figure out new paths to take in order to see as much of the land as possible. Just so long as another monster doesn’t sink their teeth into it…

The clean state of this map also makes it simple for you to spot a section of the map you had marked with a circle and a question mark. Your brows furrow as you stare down at it, attempting to recall when you had done that. You could vaguely remember being told stories about ruins there when you’d been at one of the stables. It starts coming back to you then.

The stable master had brought it up when it had been late and you were half-asleep, prepared to head inside to sleep. He’d spoken of a patch of trees in northern Hyrule, past the Great Hyrule Forest, and it had no name. Only the ruins hidden within did. Thyphlo Ruins.

It’s dark in those woods, he warned. Really dark. Other travelers who had stopped to rest at the stable had shared their experiences of attempting to reach the center, to see what might be there, but none of them had succeeded. They say the dark does strange things to the mind, the stable master explains. And the shadows… You think you see things that aren’t actually there. Not many have the mental fortitude to withstand the strain of being surrounded by pitch black for as long as is required to arrive at the middle of the labyrinth. You’d never heard of anyone that had gotten that far, so who’s to say there was anything to find there?

But… there had to be, right? It would make sense to if not assume, then at least hope something did, indeed, lie at the center, because for all the trouble one has to go through, a prize at the end, be it a treasure chest or a priceless artifact or some such valuable object, would be adequate recompense, especially if it came at the cost of near insanity. The world would show itself to be awfully cruel if the ruins had no reward to proffer, and while you consider yourself to be optimistic, you also understand that the world can be awfully cruel and you can’t rule out the possibility that a successful journey to the innermost parts of that forest may leave you empty-handed.

The more risk-averse would turn away from the prospect of exploring that mysterious patch of tightly packed trees, but you’ve the drive and determination to dive into it, to push through what might hide behind large trunks and mossy stone columns, and reach the end. You wouldn’t be satisfied with mere stories of others’ experiences. You want to have one of your own.

It’s early afternoon when Sidon is dismissed, leaving him with the rest of the day to spend with you. You’re sitting by the cooking pot at the inn, and the smell of baked apples reaches his nose the closer he gets. You don’t notice him because you’re preoccupied with what he registers is a map, which you hold in one hand, a slice of apple in the other. His mouth opens to announce his arrival, but his feet coming into your periphery causes you to glance up. A spark flickers behind your eyes and you could illuminate the whole of Zora’s Domain and that flash of love which steals his breath away because that’s for him, all for him are the dots of light in the corners of his vision whenever he should gaze at the sun.

He sits down next to you and points at the map. Planning your next adventure?

You smile and nod enthusiastically, showing him the route you’ve outlined for yourself. He’s first drawn to the lines leading south, towards the coast, but you pull his attention to the one trailing north instead, and his own smile begins to falter as he traces it back to the smaller but still dense cluster of trees above Great Hyrule Forest.

Though he’s not an adventurer like you, he’s heard his fair share of stories regarding the woods surrounding Thyphlo Ruins. The curiosity evident in the voices of those with a biting curiosity to travel within that mystifying landmark he fails to understand, for he feels no such pull, no such urge. The way he looks at it, if there is anything hiding there in the darkness, chances are, they don’t want to be found. And he’s perfectly content to not go looking.

But he is not you, and that is not how you look at it. You sound excited to have finally settled upon your next destination, and he feels bad that he can’t join you in your elation, not when his mind festers with concern for your wellbeing. He forces the smile back onto his face and does his best to support you in any other way that he can, finding it in the delight you exude at the prospect of continuing your exploration of the vast land of Hyrule. He’s glad that you’re doing something which you truly enjoy, and he tries to focus on that instead of where your passion is bringing you now.

Even for all of that, you know something is bothering him. He shouldn’t be surprised. You know what he is thinking, what he is feeling, by the small changes in his expression, by his nervous swallowing, and most of all by his slight hesitation to meet your eyes right away when you turn to him. He can’t shake the shame that creeps up on him that he can’t be as excited as you are, a notion that can’t be alleviated by the fact that you would never fault him for anything like that. He sees it in your small sympathetic smile and feels it in the warmth of your hand as you reach over to set it atop his.

“I promise I’ll stay safe,” you say, but you can only promise so much because to go somewhere that dangerous, there’s no guarantee of complete safety. Perhaps instead you voice it as a form of comfort, a reminder that Sidon needs every now and again that you’re being careful, and how could you not be when in the days spent traveling from place to place, your mind is filled with thoughts of returning here, to him, to home?

“I wish I could go with you.” He might not understand that yearning to explore the unknown, but he would venture into that forest without delay if it meant he could protect you, watching your back and the shadows outside your line of sight. He hates the idea of you being in there alone.

You squeeze his hand once in a gesture of reassurance. It mirrors how his heart squeezes as you look upon him so lovingly.

“I do too,” you remark quietly. "But we’ll have our own adventures one of these days. I’ll even let you mark them out on the map.”

Sidon smiles more genuinely now, beginning to relax. You’re trying to steer the conversation away from anything harrowing and he understands and appreciates that you are. It would do neither of you well to linger on any of the what-ifs. And he trusts you, truly, to be vigilant. You have been this long, and you’ve always come back to him.

As you outline your plans to him, he feels more at ease with the caution and preparation you’re clearly practicing. By the time the day of your departure rolls around, there’s only a small inkling of worry left in him (though that would always be there regardless of where you traveled).

Your evening spent at the inn isn’t a typical occurrence. You’d only done it because it was late when you’d arrived, and you didn’t want to disturb Sidon, no matter how many times he told you he wouldn’t mind. After that first night, you’d stayed with him in his own quarters, and it’s here that he laments how quickly the days have passed that you should already be leaving him.

Once you’ve checked that you have everything you’ll need for your travels, you close your bag and set it down on the table in the corner. Sidon is watching you from where he sits on the edge of his bed, and you walk over to him, taking the hand he holds out so he can pull you closer gently. His arms wrap around you as you stand between his legs, and you rest your own around this neck. You don’t look down at him and he doesn’t look up, for given that he towers above you when standing, in this position, both of you are eye to eye.

The world turns so slowly without you, he bemoans. I wish I could hold it in my hand to speed it up and bring you back to me sooner. You have wished for the same and smile wistfully at those sentiments he seems to have plucked from your brain. How must your days have felt before you met me? you tease, not really expecting an answer, but he gives one. Like eternity, he confesses.

He walks you to the very edge of town, and you linger at the end of the bridge, the walkway beneath your feet a soft blue accented by the glow of the luminous stones set in the pillars and arches. You stare at the trail leading away from Zora’s Domain and back towards the mainland, and Sidon’s staring down at you, and he doesn’t miss the pause in your stance, like you’re about to put one foot in front of the other and begin your journey but can’t find it within you to actually move.

“Hey.” He’s gentle as he draws your attention to him. “Are you okay?”

You purse your lips and he thinks for a moment you’re going to shake your head, but then you take him by surprise as you lunge towards him and hug him tightly. He’s quick to reciprocate, bringing an arm around your shoulders to hold you near. You murmur that you’ll miss him and your words are sunshine because he melts more and more with every syllable. Now it’s his turn to reassure you—he’s going to be here when you get back, and no stretch of land or water would ever be enough to separate you. Just think of me when you lay down to sleep, he says, and I’ll never feel too far away. If you had changed your mind and decided to stay here with him, he would welcome you gladly, of course. But he knows you won’t do that. It’s not in your nature. You hear the calls of the wild and yearn to follow them. Now go have a new adventure.

He stands there until you’re out of sight, and his walk back across the bridge is unhurried. You had wanted an early start, and by this point, the sun hasn’t quite yet revealed itself fully from behind the horizon. The fog above the water, which had been thick in the cold hours of the night, is starting to dissipate due to the growing warmth. Sidon lifts his gaze to the sky. It will be a nice day today, judging by the weather.

The duties he has to attend to as prince of the domain aren’t sufficient to make the time pass faster. He sits in meetings with his father and Muzu and occasionally the head of the guard, head leaning in his hand. His mind is elsewhere, and he stares out at the town like he might see you down there, waiting for him to be dismissed so he can join you.

“Sidon.” Muzu calls him sternly, the tone behind it slightly scolding.

Sidon blinks and reels his thoughts back in to the discussion, taking a deep breath and sitting up straighter in an effort to become more alert. His lazy movements betray how close he had been to falling asleep as well as any lack of guilt to be caught daydreaming. Muzu huffs and shakes his head but doesn’t bother to address his inattention. This isn’t the first instance this has happened, and the one solution would simply be to move on. Sidon’s thoughts would inevitably slip away to something (someone) else, and no number of reminders to stay focused would change that.

It’s also why King Dorephan isn’t irritated with Sidon’s behavior. While it’s part of Sidon’s disposition to be chipper, that attitude only persists during meetings (which even Dorephan will admit can be boring) if you’re in town. You give him something to look forward to when they finally adjourn, and he’d be energized for the entire duration. But the story is different when you’re gone, and though Sidon is happy to spend time with his friends, he’d enjoy it more with you around.

He understands what Sidon feels for you, and he knows there would be no stopping the drifting of his mind in your direction as he no doubt wonders where in Hyrule you are currently. As if on cue, he notices Sidon’s attention shifting again, eyes apparently staring at the wall but Dorephan has a suspicion Sidon isn’t admiring the architecture.

“I think we can stop here for today,” Dorephan speaks up.

Muzu trails off, confused and missing the look shared between the king and prince. Dorephan nods at Muzu, a motion of finality, and the advisor stands, bowing before making his leave.

“I’m sorry,” Sidon apologizes, and there is some guilt laced with it.

Dorephan grins and shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. You can’t help where your heart pulls you. The mind invariably follows.”

Sidon smiles slightly too, thankful that his father is sympathetic. He’d always been less strict than Muzu. Sidon stands and bows, about to follow Muzu out, but Dorephan halts his departure as he asks if you’ll be back soon. Sidon shrugs, for you hadn’t specified how long you’d be away (you tend not to, since even you don’t know how long your trips would be). He sighs instead and it’s rife with longing. She could return tomorrow and that wouldn’t be soon enough.

The days are merely the rising and setting of the sun, and the nights a constant reminder of you. The crescent moon is your smile and it guides Sidon across the threshold from the waking world to that of dreams. He wonders if you’ve followed his advice, to think of him as you fall asleep, and when he dreams of you, he’s sure that you have.

He receives no correspondence from you, and while odd at first, he isn’t bothered by it. You’re busy traversing Hyrule, and once you find an inn to settle down at for the evening, you’re probably too tired to write. He understands. Usually when you do send a letter, it’s with the date of your return, which is never too far off from the day that a courier hands Sidon the folded piece of paper. So that’s what he looks forward to, what he uses as a way of surmising that you would be coming to Zora’s Domain. If the courier is in town, he is watching closely, stomach buzzing with anticipation, only to be left disappointed when the messenger leaves, and he is empty-handed.  

But he repeats to himself that as the days crawl along, the absence of letters isn’t worth fretting over. Sometimes, you don’t send one at all, and he isn’t aware of your presence here until the morning or night of, when he spots you walking around town, asking other Zora if they have seen him. He supposes he’s just grown used to the messages, for you had been sending them during your travels with increasing regularity. To receive none now is a disruption to the routine, but it was nothing more than that.

And it works for a while, convincing himself that you’re preoccupied with your exploration and perhaps have decided to take the long route back to Zora’s Domain. Though if this turns out to be the case, he does wish you would have sent something, at least to let him know you’re okay. Not that he doesn’t doubt you’d be careful, but he’d always worry about you in some capacity, a small inkling in the back of his mind that wouldn’t disappear until you were here with him again.

The morning that his concerns come to a head, and he actually starts to fear something has happened to you, is, coincidentally, the day you return. Muzu is the one to inform him, having seen you walk into Coral Reef the moment it opened. Sidon is quick to descend to the lower levels of town, every rushed step synchronized with the beating of his heart and he can barely contain his zeal, his happiness, his relief that you are back and you are safe. Because he won’t deny that this particular journey had gone on long enough without communication to warrant serious distress.

All the emotions welling up within him come out in a breath of near disbelief to find you right where Muzu had said you would be. Any tension he had felt uncoils and a sense of calm permeates his being from the top of his head down to his toes. His chest tightens because he’s missed you so much and you are back and the clocks tick at their normal pace once more.

You descend the steps of the general shop and as you come nearer, Sidon sighs your name and he has missed the way it felt upon his tongue. He waits for you to return it, to gaze up at him with that charming grin and whisper his name or shout it because you’re so excited but it wouldn’t matter either way because all he cares about is that he gets to hear you utter it.

But you don’t. You don’t run into his arms, don’t light up at the sight of him. Rather, you walk up to him at a leisurely pace, seeming to stop in front of him less because you’re elated to see him and more because he’s merely blocking your path. You tilt your head back to look up at him but you have no reaction to the toothy smile on his face. For reasons Sidon can’t explain, his expression refuses to fall, though deep down he knows something is off. The smile remains, however, the last vestiges of a hope that he’s just imagining those things and nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong.

“Um…” Your voice is tentative, like you’re choosing words carefully, like you’re not sure of what to say. He catches the brief drop of your eyes to his grin before you lift them again to meet his own gaze, and you shake your head as if to tell him that if he’s looking for someone, it’s not you. It can’t be you. “I’m sorry, but… do I know you?”

———

II.

Sidon’s smile dims, caught off guard by the question. You continue to stand there, expecting a response, and after a few seconds of silence, you raise a brow. But then he flashes another smile and lets out a small chuckle.

“That’s funny, [Name].”

You’re only joking, surely, pretending to not know who he is. His mind refuses to consider anything but, despite the fact your face isn’t breaking out into a grin, unable to keep up the charade any longer. When you hear him say your name, you don’t look comforted by it, you look confused. With brows drawn together, you shake your head again.

“Have we met before?”

Any semblance of joy on his face finally ebbs to nothingness, and his confusion matches yours. His heartbeat quickens but not in a good way, as realization dawns on him that you aren’t messing with him. You are entirely genuine, treating him like a stranger and thoroughly apologetic that he seems to recognize you and you can’t remember where you might have seen him in the past.

“It’s me…” he starts quietly, as if those are the key words and a section of your brain will light up in recognition. “It’s Sidon.”

You still watch him blankly, your demeanor unchanging, not picking up anything special to hear the name. But then your expression does change, your eyes widening after a few moments, and he inhales sharply, prepared for you to acknowledge him and maybe this time, drop the act and the joke and the two of you will spend the rest of the day catching up, enjoying the presence of the other. And he waits with bated breath for you to thrust yourself into his arms and for the strength of impact to steal that breath away as you express how much you missed him.

You don’t do any of that.

“Prince Sidon?” you exclaim. Sidon doesn’t nod to confirm it but you bow anyway, bent at the hips and staring down at the ground for a second then standing back up straight. “I-I’m sorry I don’t remember us meeting. Please forgive my forgetfulness, your highness.”

You wring your hands nervously and Sidon doesn’t want any apologies because you shouldn’t have to offer any. The bated breath leaves him in a silent and shaky exhale as the reality of the situation sets in. This isn’t a joke. The way you’re acting is authentic. You’re staring at him with no ounce of familiarity, and the look in your eyes reminds him of any other traveler who passes through Zora’s Domain and finds themselves anxious and unprepared to be in the presence of the prince. And it shouldn’t be like this. You aren’t just any other traveler, not to him. Though how could he expect you to know that now?

You’re still waiting for him to speak, hoping that he won’t be annoyed. But he isn’t. He could never be. Not with you. So he shakes his head, forcing himself to smile just a little, a polite one to put you at ease. “There’s nothing to apologize for. We all forget things sometimes.”

You visibly relax, shoulders drooping after being tensed those several long beats. Sidon doesn’t say anything more, and you have nothing else to add either, so you clear your throat, a failed attempt to break the awkward air hanging between you.

“Er… well… if I may excuse myself, then…” Your request for dismissal is shy and Sidon’s heart is twisting because this is how you acted the first time he’d ever met you, and the memories are fond but that’s how they should have stayed. Just memories.

“Of course.” He stands to the side to give you room to walk past him, and you bow again, though not as deep as the first, before skirting around him.

He stares at your retreating form, understands that it’s you who’s walking away yet at the same time, it doesn’t feel like it is. The one he has conversed with might have your eyes and your hair but perhaps it wasn’t actually you. It made no sense for it to be. Delight fills your gaze when you see him and it’s complemented by a wide smile as he brings you close and threads his fingers through the soft strands of your hair. But who he has just spoken with held no such delight in their eyes, and there was no big grin to behold, and they never came closer than a respectful arm’s length, clearly not sharing in the expectation that Sidon would hold them near and tangle his fingers in their hair.

No matter how many ways he tries to rationalize that he’d been mistaken, that it wasn’t you he’d spotted exiting Coral Reef, he won’t ever be able to deny the way his chest had tightened when he saw you, when he heard you speak though you used the words of a stranger. And he still feels the tug to follow after you, to get you to admit you have been joking and while it gave him a scare, he admires your commitment but now, life can go on as normal.

However, that’s not what would happen. Your reactions couldn’t be faked. He could implore you all he wants, to remember. He could beg you to dig around and uncover that corner of yourself, the place where he resides and where you understand how much you love him. He wants you to know he’s not just a prince, he’s your prince, and you mean the world to him. He wants you to remember it all, and there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach to know that you don’t. You can’t.

He’s at a loss as to how to handle these circumstances. Never has he been faced with something like this. The biggest question on his mind is how this happened. It’s not as though he could simply ask you. As far as you were concerned, you aren’t missing any memories to begin with. This was the work of some form of magic, surely. But it was none that Sidon had ever heard of. He’s in dire need of answers, but the only one who might know anything, as well as the only one he trusts enough to help him figure it out, isn’t in the domain currently. Sidon doesn’t know when he will be, but until the day his friend crosses that bridge into town, he is left waiting.

You stick around for a few more days, and Sidon finds himself falling back into the habit of searching for you. Before, he’d approach you the moment he spotted you, maybe even sneak up and surprise you if he felt particularly playful. But now when he notices you speaking to other travelers or having your weapons repaired at the blacksmith’s workshop, he keeps his distance. He stays far enough away that you can’t tell he’s staring intently in your direction, observing your sweet smile and straining his ears to listen to your laugh. All the while, he misses the time he’d been able to elicit those reactions from you, and his chest would swell with pride whenever he was successful. He wore your love for him like a badge, a reward of the highest honor. It’s practically impossible for him now to comprehend that he has been set aside to the margins, a thought far from your mind, because you have never left the center of his own and would never leave it.

It dawns on him one mid-morning that despite the hand fate has dealt, he’s not being prevented from doing those things which he had carried out with great pleasure when you looked upon him with so much love. He could try to make you smile, make you laugh, and perhaps the embers of forgotten flames might flicker to life.

You’re settled down by the cooking pot, drawing and scribbling on your map. Sidon approaches quietly to avoid startling you, but you don’t notice him. He ponders what he should say to you, what might make for polite and casual conversation. He has to treat you like a stranger, and it hurts him to do because as he watches you, he sees his whole life sitting there. And he could never be angry with you when you finally slide your eyes over to him and the fondness isn’t returned because you can’t know that he’d witnessed that all slip away the moment your memories were stolen. But he doesn’t know what to be angry at so he’s angry with himself, and he swallows the lump in his throat and tells himself it’s time to focus on you, just you, because you’re what matters.

He points to the map you hold. “You’re a traveler?”

You nod in lieu of replying verbally. He can surmise you’re nervous. So he smiles gently as he asks if he can join you.

“O-Oh, yes, of course!” You scoot over to make room for his much larger frame and he inserts himself into the spot rather easily. It all starts to feel familiar for him.

He glances over your shoulder at the map with its pronounced creases from being folded and unfolded. There are additional marks which have been added since you’d last been here, but he knows it’s the same copy because of the line drawn from the domain towards the south, to Lurelin Village. He addresses said route, inquiring if you’ve visited or planned to soon.

This pulls back the floodgates and with a few extra questions from Sidon to steer the conversation, you’re gushing to him about your interest in exploring Hyrule. You tell him of where you’ve gone and where you’d like to go, and he listens attentively, nodding and humming intermittently to show he’s following along. He can’t contain his little grin as he senses the passion in your voice and he already knows these things, your love for exploration and the vastness of the land. He knows all these places you have been to and the stories associated with each one. But he hangs on every word anyway like he’s heard none of this before and you’re so eloquent and heartfelt and he has missed the closeness of it all, as you open up to him.  

Then your string of tales wanes. I’ve told you all the exciting parts, you reason. And you laugh nervously, apologizing for rambling as long as you had and not allowing much space for Sidon to talk. But he laughs with you and says it’s okay, he doesn’t mind. He prefers to listen. He’s so genuine as he looks at you that you have to look away for a second, cheeks warming.

With a plaintive sigh, you lift your head to survey what parts of the town you can see from the inn. The sun is setting and the sky is shifting from dark blue to orange.

“I don’t know why,” you begin, eyes narrowed as you stare into the distance, at the gleam of luminous stones set within the pillars as night falls, “but I always find myself coming back here after my journeys. It’s a special attachment that I can’t really explain.”

Sidon’s eyes are glassy but luckily you fail to notice because you’re not facing him. A heavy weight drops into his stomach and he wants to tell you he loves you and that there had been a point where you loved him too and that’s why. That’s why you feel the tug deep down to end every expedition here, why a part of you has made it instinct to call this place your starting point, your base, your home. Everything leads back to him and you’re so close but not close enough. You could always be closer.

You glance at him, and you’re none the wiser to the tears he has willed away, and your soft smile makes his chest tighten. For a second he might believe that things are normal, the way they were, and you’ll suggest the two of you watch the sun disappear from the outskirts of the domain where there isn’t as much light to interfere with the view. But he knows things are not normal and those won’t be the words to leave your mouth next so he tells himself you’ll be his view this evening, as the setting sun illuminates your features, painting your skin with orange hues and swirling in the depths of your eyes where it slumbers until the next day when you should wake, and the world will follow on your heels.

Sidon is alone in his bedchamber tonight, and the idea is uncomfortable, that you aren’t with him despite being in the domain. Suddenly his room feels even lonelier.

The moon hangs high in the sky and bathes the cold stone floor in light as well as kisses the expanse of Sidon’s scales as he remains near the window to stare out at the blackened waters below. He’s too preoccupied contemplating the events of today to try going to sleep. What rest he may manage to obtain will surely be restless, and he doesn’t consider that any better than not sleeping at all. Sometimes you liked to stay up to admire the moon, and he wonders if you’re doing that now.

He hadn’t talked with you for long, but it had really, genuinely felt good to hear your voice because he had missed you, during those few weeks apart. It lifts his spirits to see you walking around town. Your presence is the only thing that can pull him out of his slumps, its absence what put him there in the first place. He likes being around you because you make him want to sprout wings and fly, and you would always have that power over him, with your memories or no. He feels like he’s falling in love with you again (not that he’d ever stopped). Maybe you’ll fall in love with him again too.

You’ve set your sights on Lurelin Village, and you’re the one to instigate the conversation as you trot up to Sidon, noticeably more relaxed now, and excitedly tell him of your plans to go to the coastal town next. He mirrors your zeal as he envisions the bright blue waters and the warm sand. He’d like to swim there one day, he confesses to you. But since he can’t right now, he asks that you have fun for him.

Sidon has trouble masking emotions, and sometimes the strongest ones can slip through. That’s the only explanation he has for why you become bashful during an otherwise casual chat. Because he can’t hide his gaze of admiration and love for you no matter how hard he tries and maybe you’ve picked up on that. He ponders if you see glimpses of another life reflected back in his eyes where you aren’t merely guessing if he means to stare at you in that way because you are why that affection fills his being as he observes you.

You have already left Zora’s Domain for Lurelin Village when Link saunters into town on a gloomy afternoon. A week separates your departure and his arrival. Sidon greets him at the bridge and they make lighthearted banter over lunch. It’s not until they’re full, unable to eat another bite of their wildberry crepes, that Sidon finally brings up more serious topics. Namely, the situation with you.

Link listens closely as Sidon talks, eyes narrowed in concentration because there’s a problem to be solved and Sidon can’t solve it by himself. But Link is at a similar loss as to how this could have happened. He shrugs helplessly and sits back and says if this is some form of magic, he hasn’t ever heard of it before. I’ve never known there to be magic that could manipulate the mind.

Sidon is disappointed that he’s still stuck at square one, but he isn’t mad. They are out of their depths here. They have no idea how to combat that which is unknown to begin with. He speculates perhaps you had sustained a head injury, but that hypothesis doesn’t find any footing given that if that were correct, you should’ve lost more than just your memories of him. Link nods silently along, giving Sidon the space to think out loud.

With a heavy sigh, Sidon slides his eyes over to the Veiled Falls visible through the large windows and shakes his head, and he’s quiet as he divulges that he feels burdened by failure. He hadn’t been there for you like he promised. And you might have come back to him as you have always come back to him, but this time you didn’t come back to him whole. He should’ve gone with you. Then maybe whatever had happened wouldn’t have, and he wouldn’t be having this conversation, heavy with regret and melancholy hindsight.

Link hates to see his friend like this. The picture of the Zora prince before him is far from the Sidon he knows. Sidon’s the one to pick others up when they’re down but Link understands that the tables are turned now, and he is in need for the favor to be returned. Link has met you several times, when your stays in the domain have overlapped. It’s abundantly clear to him how much you mean to Sidon, and he almost feels as though he is sharing in the distress no doubt settling in Sidon’s entire being.

She wouldn’t blame you, Link asserts. Sidon’s movements are sluggish as he blinks and turns towards him. Neither of you could’ve predicted this.

Sidon agrees, silently, that that is true. But it does little to make him feel better, though he appreciates Link’s efforts.

At failing to garner a response from Sidon, Link purses his lips and picks at what remains of the crepe on his plate, pushing around a wildberry with his fork. He looks from his food to Sidon and back again, his mind a flurry as he racks it for some sort of solution. Granted, there couldn’t be many. Whatever had affected you had to be powerful, and there would only be so many methods to counteract it. The odds seem insurmountable but Link isn’t willing to give up because he doubts Sidon isn’t willing either. When it comes to you, Sidon is willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re okay. Whatever it takes…

Slowly, Link halts his poking and prodding of his food, eventually abandoning the fork entirely and leaving it stuck upright in the thickest part of the crepe. He reaches out to the glass of water to his left to take a sip and sneaks a glance up at Sidon, who isn’t looking directly at him, still staring beyond Link to the windows. Even without meeting his gaze directly, Link senses the misery. Sidon’s desperate.

But desperate enough to…?

Yes. The answer is yes because Link knows Sidon would lay down his life for you if it came to that, and so the idea Link is hesitating to share despite the fact it must be the only solution would be a small price to pay for your wellbeing. And what kind of friend would Link be to withhold anything that might help?

So he tells Sidon there might be a way to fix this, and he knows there’s no turning back when Sidon finally faces him and there’s the slightest light in his gaze, the flash of hope kept tempered in case the proposed solution goes nowhere and he be left even more disappointed than before. But Sidon would hold onto it tight because you’re the gleam of sunshine in the center of his eye and he would never let go of you.

There’s this statue… Link begins. There’s a statue in Hateno Village with magic of its own. It’s strong, and no one is sure how it works or where the magic comes from. But if one makes a request to the statue, the wish is granted, regardless of what it is. If you want the water to turn green, it’ll happen. No one’s tried to ask for anything so ridiculous, of course, not that there was any need. Those aware of the statue’s existence are aware of its power and do well not to make absurd requests for the sake of witnessing just how powerful the statue is said to be.

Link ends the explanation with the remark that this is what could give you your memories back, could make you remember Sidon. But he tacks onto that one final statement, more quietly: I think it might be the only way.

Sidon keeps silent as he mulls over what he’s learned. Whatever magic was involved with that statue, it must be dark, and while he might initially be opposed to dabbling in dark magic, the circumstances are too dire for him to be immediately reluctant. As it stands, he is giving it serious thought. Link had sounded confident that going to the statue would work, and that’s good enough for Sidon to agree that this would be worth looking into. However, Link’s quiet admission that this was the only solution spoke for consequences less than favorable, and while Sidon knows to expect as much considering the forces they’re reckoning with, Link’s tone had been dismal, as if to warn Sidon to be very, very careful.

Link is watching him closely now, and he takes a deep breath, feeling like he’s about to break a hundred years of silence when it’s only been around a few minutes.

“What does the statue ask for in return?”

The question was going to come up inevitably, but Link still delays answering. His hesitation to reply already speaks volumes. It takes a piece of your soul. It wants a slice of your mortality. He forces the words out, though it pains him to voice the suggestion. He wouldn’t ever want Sidon to surrender those things, whether it was just a piece or the whole. That was to surrender a literal part of himself, and he could never get it back. But ultimately, it was Sidon’s decision what to do, and as Link sits there, lets his words ruminate in the prince’s mind, he knows what Sidon will decide. Like he’d said prior, all of it, in the wider scope, is a small price to pay for you.

Sidon nods. He’ll go before the statue.

With his mind made up, the next course of action is figuring out when he can leave town to make the trip to Hateno. He would do it overnight and do his best to return to the domain as soon as possible the following day. He would try to make the journey there and back without stopping for rest but he knows that wouldn’t be possible because while he could swim via the Zora River, the distance from there to Hateno is still too large to cover at once. He would sleep enough to ensure he wouldn’t fall over and pass out from exhaustion, but nothing more. He couldn’t be gone for long.

The tail end of Link’s visit nearly overlaps with yours, but he misses you by hours. He leaves in the morning, and you arrive at noon. Sidon spots you at the inn, where you’re sitting on one of the beds, observing the hilly expanse of Upland Zorana and the Veiled Falls. The town is elevated high enough that the spray of water at the waterfall’s base can’t reach, but if it did, Sidon’s sure it would feel refreshing.

He calls your name gently and you look over once you hear it, giving him a curt smile before returning your attention to the scenery. He sits on the edge of the bed, giving you your space, and gently so as not to jostle you. The water beds are quite squishy.

“How was Lurelin Village?” he asks, and he’s smiling, prepared for the excited ramblings of your most recent escapade.

But he doesn’t get that. All he gets is a noncommittal shrug, and this leaves him rather bewildered. He might’ve been less so had you followed it up even with some simple and vague remarks as It was good or I had fun. It’s the complete silence that is out of the ordinary. He continues with another question, attempting to start a conversation. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

When he asks this, you shrug again, but you must sense that he doesn’t consider that a good enough answer at all (especially after the first shrug) so you elaborate. “I did.”

Sidon’s brows furrow but you don’t notice. Are you mad at him? He has no idea why you would be. You were in perfectly good spirits around him before you’d left Zora’s Domain, and he hadn’t seen you until you came back today. There was no opportunity for him to do anything that might arouse that resentment in you, not that he would ever try to do that. He can’t recall ever acting in a way that angered you. Instead, he owes it to the fact you may just be tired from the traveling. Once he considers this a possibility, he starts to feel a little guilty that he may have just interrupted you as you were about to take a nap.

You exhibit no signs of wanting to talk, staying silent and facing forward. With a quiet sigh, Sidon says he’ll let you get some rest because you must’ve had a long journey. He stands and walks back to the front steps of the inn and you make no move to stop him.

Sidon plays the interaction between you two over and over in his head that night. Sure, it really could have been that you were exhausted and that’s why you acted like you did. But he’s also sure that if that were true, he wouldn’t feel that nagging feeling in his chest that something is different. He knows you incredibly well, firstly. Secondly, this scenario reminds him of the worry he’d felt when you were away from the domain for longer than usual, and your return had quelled it up until he learned you had forgotten who he was, proving his concern had merit. Now he knows to give the benefit of the doubt to his instinct, because though his brain might reason nothing strange is afoot, his gut is pointing him elsewhere.

The following morning he finds you in the same spot, but you’re now sitting on the end of the bed, head resting atop your knees, which you’ve drawn to your chest. Sidon hesitates to go to you, not wanting to upset you again if it turns out that you truly had been tired, but he can’t prolong talking to you. He has to figure out whether it had been your lack of rest that made you abnormally wordless or if there was something more going on.

Good morning. He greets you in a hushed tone for your sake, not wanting to scare you. There was no one else in the inn he had to take care not to wake up.

To respond with a shrug is, evidently, too much energy for you now. Your eyes flicker to the side to glance at him just for a second, before they slide back to watch the waterfall. He sits on the bed next to yours, settling down at the end. For a few minutes, you observe the water together and the silence is almost comfortable. Sidon pretends the day is like any other, the two of you watching the current flow, winding its way between high cliffs. If you were closer to the river, you’d spot fish.

The moment of mere pretend is swept away by the wind that blows through the inn. Sidon turns his head to stare at you on the other bed, where you’ve not appeared to move an inch. This cathartic nature is wholly uncharacteristic for you, and he could hardly believe that who he’s seeing now is you, who have always been so energetic.

“How was your adventure at the beaches down south?” Sidon has accepted that he will need to be the one to carry the discussion along.

“It was fine.”

This is a verbal reply at least. But it leaned neither towards a positive connotation nor a negative and Sidon doesn’t know what to make of it. He’s even inclined to say that you sound apathetic. His suspicions begin to grow.

“Well… Have you started planning where you’d like to visit next?” There’s another bout of silence. He’s unsure if that means you’re thinking on his question, wondering where you want to go after your period of rest here, or if you’re ignoring it. Both were possible give how you’re acting and how little you move or speak.

You inhale deeply and stretch your legs out, hands braced on the mattress. Sidon perks up, thinking maybe he was wrong, maybe you’re okay and you were just tired, so you’ll be a little slow talking about your next destination and he won’t mind that one bit. You exhale in a heavy sigh, and it comes across as burdened and very tired.

“I haven’t thought about it, no…” You trail off, attention dropping to your lap. You pick at the loose thread on your pants. “I haven’t thought about much lately.”

The admission raises alarm in Sidon. It signals to him that something strange is going on, laying itself on top of the already bizarre occurrence of losing your memories of him. Were the two phenomena connected? He assumes them to be immediately, but you might have also run into trouble again on your trip to Lurelin Village. The cogs are spinning in his head as he tries to make sense of the situation, of what could be happening to you.

Gradually, he starts to make connections, just hypotheticals with no grounding. His confirmation could only come from you directly. So when thinks he might have found the string connecting both your loss of memories and your sudden lethargy, he asks you another question.

“[Name],” he says your name softly, “do you feel any urges to travel?”

You don’t stop to consider the question, and when you look at him, you seem nonplussed by it. The look in your eyes makes it seem as if you don’t even understand why you should be getting excited about something like that. You almost look bored.

“I don’t care much for it.” You shake your head.

And then Sidon knows, and he wouldn’t have if he didn’t know you so well. Whatever you had run into that stole your memories of him, it had stolen more than that. It had taken an entire emotion away. Now, not only do you not love him, you can’t love at all. The magic which has affected you must work gradually, and that’s why you were still passionate about your exploration up until this most recent visit of yours to the domain.

The sudden loss of your enthusiasm to travel across Hyrule is to have lost parts of your very being, and that’s how Sidon knows this isn’t just a change of heart or fatigue. You have never had a change of heart about your travels or come close to it. Your desire to roam the wilderness and discover what is out there is core to who you are, and you would’ve gladly done it for the rest of your life. But now you suddenly have no interest, and what’s more, you don’t even realize that anything is unusual about the fact you have no interest. The problem arising from what magic had struck you runs much deeper than simply forgetting him.

He wants to apologize. He wants to say it over and over until you’re sick of it. But of course you would never know why he was so apologetic, and there’s an ugly twisting in the pit of his stomach because he wants you to get mad at him too. For saying sorry too much or for letting you get into this mess in the first place because it’s his fault. He deserves your anger but you don’t even have any to express. As it stands, you understand yourself to have no resentment for him. He wishes he could lament to you his failure to protect you and maybe still you wouldn’t be mad and you’d say that you don’t blame him like Link said you wouldn’t, but Sidon needs to hear it from you and he just wants you back.

He doesn’t know who stares back at him as you look over, having started to think that the silence had stretched too long. You tilt your head, prepared to ask if something is bothering him, but he stands up before you can.

“I’ll give you time to wake up more fully. It’s early. I’m sorry I intruded.” He flashes a brief smile in farewell, then turns quickly, the smile dropping once he does. He’ll never know if you tried to stop him in that moment, hand held out as if to get him to pause, before the words die in your throat, and you let him go.

Technically, it isn’t that early in the morning—the shops are all open—but he had to get away before he broke down in front of you. You, so unaware, left feeling detached by no choice of your own, at the center of the whole affair without even realizing. You’re beginning to drift farther and it hurts the most when you're sitting next to him, and he’s forced to bear witness. And he can’t believe how much he can miss someone.

———

III.

Link returns three days later and they make preparations to leave for Hateno that same afternoon, just as the sun begins to set. The golden hour might be better to enjoy in a happier context, but it’s the glare in Sidon’s eyes today when he glances west.

He’d told Link of what had transpired with you and Link frowns as he listens. The circumstances of your memory loss keep getting stranger and stranger. As they’re riding out of Zora’s Domain, Link wonders aloud if this might mean you could get worse if they didn’t do something to fix it. Sidon says he doesn’t want to think about what might happen, but deep down he can’t help but entertain the thought, wracked with paranoia as he has been these past weeks.

Would you continue to lose more of yourself? Perhaps your inability to feel love is only the beginning. Perhaps as the days wore on, you’d gradually become unable to feel much else, until you were just a shell. But who would do such a thing? Sidon fails to wrap his head around what might drive someone to do something so cruel and to someone so sweet. You have plenty more to lose if Link’s speculation is true, and Sidon’s inclined to say that the process is already underway, because how could he ever hope to see your smile again if there’s nothing that makes your heart burn with passion, to a degree so high you can’t contain and it pulls the corners of your lips up and crinkles the corner of your twinkling eyes?

The more of you that fades, the more Sidon perceives himself following suit. You’re a big part of his life and he can’t imagine it without you. He doesn’t want to. Without you, he’s just a prince, and the title pales in comparison to what he means to you. The honor of one day taking over as ruler of Zora’s Domain doesn’t mean much if he’s alone.

It’s the middle of the night when they arrive in Hateno Village. They had been diligent in their travel, taking as few breaks as they could manage. The main road of the town is empty, everyone having gone to bed earlier, and all that lights their paths are the torches in the wall sconces and the lamps hanging above locked storefronts. Said lamps sway gently with the cold breeze, the flames flickering to near ember before the gust stops, and they roar back to life.

Link comments that he’d never made the trip from Zora’s Domain down to Hateno so quickly before, and it’s meant to be a small joke, to brighten the mood. Sidon humors him with a small chuckle, but is unable to muster anymore than that. But Link understands, and quiets down as he leads him to their goal.

Sidon’s chest is heavy as he realizes what he is about to do. The notion of approaching the statue had seemed so faraway in the days leading up to this trip and while on the journey to Hateno, like a dream, but now he’s here and this is real. These last few minutes are his last chance to back out, but he won’t. He doesn’t even consider it. The consequences sound harrowing, to trade part of his mortality, part of his soul, but he knows it’ll be worth it. If you got to be whole again, he could live contentedly in a fractured state. Maybe he won’t even feel any different, so long as he could see you be happy.

Link walks through Hateno as though to go to his house, but instead of ascending the hill, he takes a path leading farther down, between two rock faces, their heights blocking the moonlight from reaching the grass. They’re cast in shadow and with no light source in this area, they can barely spot the statue on the other side of the large boulder, positioned like it’s in hiding.

This statue is larger than the goddess statue in town, its horns protruding menacingly, the points dulled down with age; and its wings are spread, adding height to the already imposing figure. It’s clear that this statue receives no care or maintenance. The stone is dark from dirt and moss, riddled with cracks and flattened in corners where the tips have crumbled, forced to withstand the elements and unsuccessful in its efforts.

No one comes to maintain this statue, Link says. He and Sidon stand before it, staring at its state of disrepair. They say a dark energy looms here.

Sidon nods. He’d had a sense of foreboding once they stepped into the presence of the horned statue, the power of it weighing on him, like it knows that he’s here to strike a deal, and it’s pressing in on him, forcing out the words and the commitment. Vaguely, he wonders when the last time anyone had approached the statue was. What it asks for is serious, and only the most grave of situations could lead someone here, in their most desperate hour. The statue is a last resort, and a chill runs down Sidon’s spine as he becomes aware of the power it must have. Dark magic does exist, its tendrils snaking through Hyrule, ominous and dangerous and unbelievably strong. Perhaps it was the work of Hylia herself that such strength is so hard to find, to accidentally stumble upon. Dark magic plays no games with fools.

The overgrown grass blows with another gust of wind and sifts as Link adjusts his stance, resting his weight on one foot. He glances up at Sidon. Are you sure? he asks. There’s a second part untacked to his question, but Sidon understands it fine—this is his final opportunity to turn around.

Link would never judge him for backing out. Dealing with dark forces is hazardous, and not everyone is capable of standing before the statue, shoulders squared and confident, ready to trade with it, a fractioned section of their soul and mortality for the granting of their one wish, their chief desire. Even Link doesn’t think he could do that, and for Sidon to be here only makes him respect the Zora prince more. But if in this moment Sidon were to turn away, Link would understand. The deep discomfort, of the air squeezing too tightly the longer you’re here, digging in like claws, is the ultimate trial, to test one’s resolution and commitment. Not all can bear it.

However, Sidon hardly looks bothered. His eyes are aflame with determination, and it reminds Link of why he respects Sidon so much in the first place. The resolution pumping through his veins has been there since the beginning. He doesn’t back down from challenge or adversity, and in matters concerning you, he only fights harder. That’s why when Link had given Sidon one last chance, one last out, he already knew the answer.

Sidon nods. He’s sure. His mind had been set the moment he’d learned of this statue.

Link leaves Sidon alone, mentioning that he’d be at his house, back in the direction they came from. I’ll get a fire going, he says. For when you get there. As Sidon takes the last few steps to stand right in front of the statue, Link starts walking back up the hill, throwing a somber good luck over his shoulder.

For a few moments, Sidon stares at the statue, unsure how to begin. Does he approach this as though he were at a statue of Hylia? Should he kneel? A breeze blows through, the two hills where the statue sits between forming a wind tunnel which makes the gusts strong. The chilly air seeps through his scales and he feels heavy, like there are weights in his stomach and attached to his ankles so that he’s unable to move from this spot. And then he hears a whisper, in the back of his head.

Shall we strike a bargain?

The sinister spirits looming within the statue have made themselves known, but Sidon doesn’t yet know how to form the words, to string them together and communicate his wish. He would have to phrase it carefully to avoid being misunderstood, and in attempting to phrase his request, he realizes he is at an impasse.

Whether or not he would come before the horned statue to make a deal had never been a question nor a doubt in his mind. It had seemed simple to him: he would make the trade in return for your memories. It was clearcut, precise. But now things are hazier and the line is blurred because the recent developments concerning your missing emotion had made it less so. This was not as easy to navigate, and your wellbeing hung in the balance.

If he were to ask for your memories back, for you to love him again, he’d get that. The statue would honor any demands made, as long as the price is paid. But that’s all he would get. And while he’d be over the moon to feel that once more, what it was like to be loved by you, it isn’t enough. It’s what Sidon wants but it isn’t what you need.

No, what you need is to feel love again at all. If the statue granted the wish for you to remember and love him, your love would only stretch that far. Sidon knows the phrasing of the request is of utmost importance, because though the statue accepts and carries it out, dark magic takes delight in skewing the words until the result scarcely resembles what was asked for. He just gets one wish, and to ask for you to remember him and to love again are two.

His chest tightens and it hurts and this twisting isn’t the work of the horned statue. The internal conflict is nearly too much to handle but in the incomprehensible flurry he knows what he must do. He knows what he wants for you, because from the very start, this was about you and it would always be about you because he loves you. He loves you so much his heart is cracking down the middle and he is preparing himself to let you go.

That’s what they say, isn’t it? If you love something, let it go. Sidon’s made tough decisions before but this is by far the toughest. The reason for it is due to his difficulty in coming to terms with what will happen from here, after he voices his wish. He already knows he wants what’s best for you, and he knows that’s what he will ask for, but he’d spent so long clutching to you tightly, he doesn’t want to see you carried away, the wind scooping you gently from his embrace. But for you to be your old self again, in its entirety—capable of love for the sunrises and sunsets, for the flowing water of the rivers, for exploring the full breadth of Hyrule and sharing your adventures with any willing ear—is more important. He cares more that you can love, even if it means you wouldn’t love him.

You won’t remember him the way you knew him before, won’t know how much you loved him or how much he loves you, but he would show it as best he could. And though he hates to consider it, you might fall in love with someone else anyway. He can’t see the future but if it came to that, he would have to be ready. In these several seconds he mentally steels himself for the possibility, and it doesn’t make the weight of his decision any lighter, but he basks in the small comfort that he will see you full of love, and he would be happy with that, even if you gave it away to another. You falling in love with him would just be a bonus, and if you don’t, he’ll still love you, and he hopes somewhere deep in your subconscious you will understand just how much.

A heart so big shouldn’t go empty. This final thought pushes Sidon over the edge, and he makes known his wish to the statue.

Link looks up from stoking the fire when the front door creaks open. Sidon peeks his head through then steps fully across the threshold, quietly shutting the door behind him. The air is solemn and at first, Link hesitates to say anything, but he figures maybe Sidon would appreciate it, as something to ground him, bring him back to earth after the ominous atmosphere he’d been immersed in. How did it go?

Sidon doesn’t respond immediately, but Link is patient. He stares into the orange flames, then inhales deeply, chest expanding, then steadily exhales. Link surmises it isn’t a breath of burden. It almost sounds light, a sigh of relief. But Sidon wears no smile to complement it.

“I made the deal,” Sidon states. He isn’t particularly wordy, deep in thought of what has occurred.

Link doesn’t push him to elaborate. What had happened was a private matter, and if Sidon didn’t want him to be privy of details, he wouldn’t ask about them. Instead, he nods, then returns to his original task of gathering ingredients to cook a simple meal for both of them. As he throws everything into the pot, he suggests they leave for Zora’s Domain before the sun rises. That would give them a few hours of rest. If they’re just as diligent as they had been on the way to Hateno Village, they should make it back by noon.

They eat in silence, the only noise the crackling of the fire and their spoons clacking against the bowls. Link’s attention is on his food, and he doesn’t notice Sidon’s contemplative gaze.

“It’s interesting,” Sidon remarks suddenly, and Link turns to him. “Considering what I’ve traded, I don’t feel any different.”

Link hums, and he smiles a little. It’s a small form of pity, he guesses, that one feels the same with a fractured or a whole soul. The horned statue has some sympathy, it seems. Upon this comment, Sidon chuckles, the tension leaving his shoulders and the air relaxing into something more comfortable. By the time they ride out of Hateno, it’s normal once more, and they’re chatting casually, as if the events from a few hours ago hadn’t happened, or occurred too far in the past to remember or linger on.

You aren’t in Zora’s Domain when they arrive, and you still don’t return in the few days that follow. Link says he’d like to stay and wait for you, to see for himself what has come of the bargain Sidon made, but he has his own business to attend to elsewhere. Sidon is understanding, and tells him it’s okay, but Link still parts regretfully. He parts with Sidon with hopes that you’re doing well. It certainly has been a while since he’d seen you. Maybe some day soon your visits here will intersect.

Sidon waits for you anxiously, and he’s antsy during meetings with his father and Muzu. He resumes his usual practice of gazing out the window in search for you, and for multiple mornings, it’s fruitless. He doesn’t see you out there, and his shoulders sag in disappointment with every day that passes. He falls asleep at night pondering the nuances of the wish he made, if the results were immediate or if they were gradual. If it was the latter, surely by the time you finally walk into town, he’ll witness what came of his journey to the horned statue. He knows his desire was fulfilled, the statue true to its word, but he can’t help the small inkling of doubt that nothing had changed.

Finally, finally, he spots you crossing the bridge on an early morning, the soft glow of the luminous stones encasing your figure as you walk, and the only assurance he isn’t dreaming is the jump in his chest of his heart skipping a beat.

He runs down to greet you and you prove to him that something had changed, everything had changed and it changed for the better because when you see him, you smile so widely and exclaim that you need to tell him of your latest adventures to the cold planes of Hebra. And you’re so beautiful Sidon might cry. He’s missed you. He voices that to you, how it felt like you’d been away for so long, and you laugh, wondering aloud It couldn’t have been that long, surely? and you’re still grinning at him as you continue jokingly Are you that lost without me around?

Sidon chuckles. His own smile is fond and maybe you detect that, or maybe you don’t. “You have no idea.”

He spends the rest of the day with you, listening intently to your stories. His reactions might be a little overdone, but you don’t appear bothered, instead seeming rather appreciative of his rapt attention. It feels good to hear you ramble. The passion is tangible.

This continues to be the state of things from then on. You venture out to a new location, and he waits for you, eagerly awaiting your tales. You’re always eager to share them. A warmth floods him on the day he spots you sitting by the cooking pot at the inn, map in hand as you scribble notes on it and trace out new routes. You’d had to replace the map again, and you’re embarrassed as you admit it had flown out of your grip on a windy day and got stuck in a tree, too high for you to climb up to retrieve.

“At least last time it was because of a fight with bokoblins, and that sounds much more exciting,” you lament, but you can’t pretend to be sad for long as you break into giggles at the silliness of it. “But maybe one day the wind will knock it free and carry it to someone who needs to find their way home.” You shrug nonchalantly at the casual hypothetical.

Sidon’s mouth twitches, a grin fighting its way to the surface. You are so kind, and do you realize that, he wonders? Do you realize the extent of the compassion you feel? He’d like a heart like yours, with enough room to welcome anyone who requires shelter.

You notice his silence and glance over, head tilted as you ask if he’s okay. He’s fine, he promises you. More than fine. He’s doing wonderful. You seem to doubt him briefly, watching him closely for a few beats until you concede. Your lips curl into a smile, satisfied that he’s being truthful. Good, you say. Sidon smiles softly at the straightforward response, curt but relaying perfectly how much you care.

The two of you lapse into a quiet again but it’s comfortable. You sit there together, and a kaleidoscope of butterflies runs loose in Sidon’s stomach. He might grow those wings any second now and take flight. If he does, he’ll be sure to hold his hand out for you to grab onto, if you want to tag along. He hopes you do. You’ll never know the things he did to turn you back to your normal self, but that matters little to him. What he’d traded was worth it, and he would do it all again.

Besides, he’s too busy marveling at that greatly missed warmth in your gaze to feel like any part of his soul had ever gone missing.

———

EPILOGUE

You have a tendency to wake up at dawn.

It’s a habit you figure has been instilled from the constant traveling. You prefer to start the day before the sun rises, in order to take advantage of the crisp morning air. Sometimes the afternoon heat is harsh enough you have to stop more often to rest, hiding in the shade of a large tree just off the trail. Such instances typically delay your journey and set you behind, and it irritates you only until you remind yourself that the journey to your destination was just as important as reaching the destination itself. The whole purpose is to explore to Hyrule, to bask in what it has to offer, and perhaps the silver lining of the hotter days when you’re forced to stop earlier than planned is that you’re allotted more time to slow down and admire the scenery.

The rays of the rising sun shine through patches of clouds dotting the sky as you walk along the dirt path, and your cheeks flush at the cold wind prickling at your skin. It had been dark when you left the inn, but the sun will have fully risen when you get to your goal. This would’ve gone much faster if you weren’t carrying a wooden container. It requires the use of both your hands, for it’s heavy, and you move slowly, occasionally setting it down to take a break. In the few minutes you use to rest, you like to study the water down below, and the way it glitters in the early morning. The steady current is a quaint white noise to keep you company on your trek.

Once you finally arrive at the small section of leveled land overlooking the river, you set the cylindrical vessel down and heave a sigh of relief. Your arms will probably be aching from how far you’ve had to bring it. You might feel it by lunchtime, but you won’t mind.

You’re facing east, lone audience to the sunrise, and settle down at the edge of the cliff, legs crossed, and open up the container to take out the parchment and pencil you’d placed there before you set off.

Where you sit currently has been named the Bank of Wishes. Finley had told you about it once. At this place, the river gladly receives the confessions of the heart and carries them away, and the subsequent days are spent hoping they might find their way to the one they’re meant for. It sounds fantastical, like make-believe, but perhaps that’s the point. There’s a magic here that makes the impossible possible, if only you’re willing to believe. And you are.

You think you can feel the difference in the air, the hospitality of the breeze swirling around you, still cold but not at all unpleasant. There are a few fireflies fluttering about like little fairies, blinking silently, still brilliant against an orange sky. The nocturnal creatures would retreat shortly, but for now, they take interest in the container at your side, and as they come close, you hear the faint flicker of their wings.

Your heart does the thinking while you draft your letter and your mind merely follows, and maybe it’s the hum of the lightning bugs’ wings or maybe it’s something else that resounds in your head, murmurs of welcome, as though whatever roams here unseen is glad that you have stopped by. You’re glad you’ve stopped by too, and the lightness that fills you as you take a deep breath is simultaneously the work of the crisp, gentle breeze and the mystical presence curling around you, goading the words out, the admission, the feelings you have for the one who means a lot to you, means the most.

Once you’ve signed the letter, you read it over. There are some spots you’ve had to scratch out a spelling error but even for those flaws you think it’s perfectly written. It says everything you need to give voice to. You nod to yourself, satisfied with what you wrote, then fold the parchment and reach back inside the red container for the third object you had placed within, the last piece in the process.

The pale blue nightshades seem to glow, as you hold the stems in one hand and cradle the petals in the palm of the other. Carefully you tie them to the golden band wrapped around the vessel, bending the stems appropriately but never pulling too hard for them to snap. They’ll be a small beacon, lighting the way for your letter as it floats along the water.

After that’s done, you set the letter inside then close the lid, checking that it’s secure. When you’re satisfied that it won’t pop back open, you reposition yourself to sit on your knees. You aren’t quite sure what you should say, if there were any traditions or methods of opening the conversation with… well, with whatever wanders here, waiting for another confession to guide downstream. But any worry of starting it wrong is nonexistent, and you keep it simple.

Your heart’s in that container, you think, for you feel no need to speak aloud. Whatever is here would know your thoughts. You heart’s in that container and you’d like for it to be kept safe. It may have far to travel but your heart’s already used to that. You’ve journeyed through this land, from end to end, and what more could the space between you and the one you love be? If it were wide as Hyrule or even wider, you would close the distance gladly. A hundred miles is a hundred steps to you, to reach who your soul yearns for.

Now all that’s left was to send away the vessel. You turn it onto its side, then give it a firm push. It rolls off the edge and drops down into the water with a small splash. You watch it float farther and farther, a school of fish trailing just behind. Perhaps they’re drawn to the small spot of light that are the nightshades, just as you are, as you continue to to sit there, until finally the container curves around the bend, and you can no longer see it. You still don’t move after it’s disappeared, rooted to the spot for several seconds as you take in the moment, memorizing how bright the sun is this morning, how cool the grass is, how contented you are to have done what you did. Life feels a little different now—a little brighter, a little more full of love.

Then your brows furrow, your eyes lowering from the sky back to the river.  And it’s odd, you think, that all this feels vaguely familiar…

“[Name]!”

You twist around at the sound of your name. Sidon is standing just off the path, waving at you even though you’ve no need for that to notice him there. He’s tall, and his red scales stand out from the blue sky. His smile is big as he walks closer and asks what you’ve been up to.

You shake your head and stand, brushing off the dirt from your pants. Nothing, you say. Thankfully he doesn’t pry, and having sensed your desire to keep what has transpired a secret, he changes the subject. He invites you to breakfast, and you’re about to accept, but your stomach answers for you and growls. This prompts you to grin sheepishly.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Sidon remarks. Then he laughs, and it is truly wonderful to hear.

The day is already looking to be quite splendid, and there’s no one else you’d rather spend it with. Whenever you should finally gain the courage to tell Sidon you love him, you can only hope he feels the same.

[junreishaa]

LOVELESS: An Interpretation

Viewing Loveless as Holy Scripture and Genesis its Cipher Loveless as Scripture

  Though Loveless originates as an epic poem within the world of Gaia, its creator is yet unknown, or, at the very least, unconfirmed. Similar to grand tales and heroes’ quests of old, FFVII’s citizens view Loveless as a timeless classic steeped in mystery; it is a piece of work grandiose in proselytizing human values and lessons learned, and is presented in such a way that the audience could view the poem’s events as ornamented half-truths. 

  Some might even go so far as to label the epic a piece of Scripture---as Genesis Rhapsodos comes to believe---written by a prophet moved by something greater. After all, is art not part of the human experience? Is Scripture not said to be written by a god through man’s tongue, through his eyes, through his hands, that they might better grasp, reflect, and understand a god (or goddess) that loves them? Do gods and goddesses not often call upon a messenger and a cipher, to spread a message where voiceless wills cannot?

  As far as this post is concerned, that is exactly the sort of possibility we aim to consider. In order to do this, we must consider Loveless in relation to Banora, and in relation to Genesis, himself. 

Banora as Eden

A humble village whose very soil is rife with secrets. The Lifestream here runs deep into the ground and, more importantly, far closer to the surface compared to most places. It is home to the Banora “Dumbapple,” which grow irregularly upon trees whose trunks grow, not toward sun, but back toward the very ground from which they’ve sprouted.

   Two very blatant images and parallels come to mind. First, that of a tunnel. Each tree, though not always touching, connect to create a singular experience and entity through which a person may pass. The second: a cycle---of beginning, and of end, and the very nature of the Lifestream and Gaia herself. Life is not predictable; neither are the ripples upon water’s surface, nor the time and manner in which Banora apples grow. We cannot omit the meta presence of the apple itself, of course, and its biblical roots. We cannot forget its ties to Eden, to paradise, or to possibility and temptation---of which, Banora and its underground secrets underground greatly represent.

    Banora, as an apple juice-producing village, is in part a farce. It was excavated for the sole purpose of ShinRa exploitation of Mako harvesting. What they found there instead was a Weapon: a Gaia-crafted failsafe created and locked away until a time should come when its strength was needed to protect the planet. This is a holy place intended to remain undisturbed and unfounded by man---and while ShinRa was intelligent enough not to break the Emerald Weapon from stasis in an attempt to harness its power, they did pluck the fruit of life and of knowledge---Mako---from the planet elsewhere.

  However, within these excavated caves there is more to be found than Weapons and the Lifestream. Engraved upon stone tablets within a holy place, lies the verses and acts of a single piece of literature: Loveless, written yet unfinished. Whether these artifacts were carved and placed here by Genesis himself or by architects of an old age remains up to interpretation. 

Genesis Rhapsodos as a Cipher

   His very name holds significance true to this interpretation. “Genesis” transliterated from Greek, means “the origin” or “the beginning.” “Rhapsodos” is crafted from the Greek words “rhaptein” (to stitch or sew) and “oide” (a song or poem), and together form to another word to mean “one who performs/sews together epic poetry.”   By definition of his name alone, Genesis Rhapsodos is capable of performing, stitching, and interpreting a piece of literature that is so far left unfinished.    Genesis is not born of Banora land. He is a child abandoned by his biological parents and raised aloofly, not compatibly, by his adoptive parents. He is the product of an experiment shut down and labeled a failure. And so comes the role of Cipher, of which there are several suitable meanings. 

To break a code. Genesis performing Loveless as holy scripture.

A mathematical element that when added to another number yields the same number. Zero. A circle, a cycle, much like the Lifestream itself. 

A person of no importance to anyone. Abandoned, adopted but not truly a part of, and deemed a failure by those who claimed to value him, Genesis Rhapsodos belongs to no one but the Goddess herself.

   A boy of no importance stumbled upon the caves beneath Banora and within it discovered a holy Eden.  He discovered secrets to the gifts of a Goddess whose name he would not come to know by sound, but by taste of apple’s flesh giving beneath his teeth. He gained knowledge of how to cultivate this fruit to its fullest potential: of juicing it into drink and sharing among the masses. He came to know certain things: images and futures, not as certainty, but as prophetic ideas and images to be sung and heard and sought after.

[party-of-rpg-muses]

A Look At Stuff You Probably Never Heard Of: Ancestors: The Humankind Odyssey

I was actually going to take a look at a different game today, but at the last second, I decided to take a look at this fairly recent game. So today, we’ll be taking a look at... Ancestors: The Humankind Odyssey!

Ancestors: The Humankind Odyssey, or simply just Ancestors, is a T-rated open world survival game developed by Panache Digital Games, a new game studio founded by Patrice Désilets, who left Ubisoft after Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood. It was also published by Private Division. This game was initially released on PC via the Epic Games Store on August 27th, 2019 due to an exclusivity deal that would last a year. It later saw a release on PlayStation 4 and XBox One later that year on December 4th.

The game doesn’t have a story in the typical sense, but it takes place about 10 million years ago prior to current time in prehistoric Africa. The objective is to survive, learn, adapt, explore, and evolve from an ancient hominid known only as “The Missing Links”, evolving up to 2 million years prior to current time.

The game itself opens with a fish being caught by a pelagornis (an ancient pseudotooth bird), but drops it into the water, where it gets caught by a grey-crowned crane, but drops the now-dead fish when it gets attacked and eaten by a Thorbjarnarson's Crocodile. The fish is then picked up by an elderly male hominid with an infant on his back. Upon taking the fish to a high point to eat it, the hominid is taken away by a Bateleur Eagle to its nest, where it is killed and eaten as the infant falls to the ground below. Upon finding a hiding spot, perseptive switches to an adult, trying to find the lost infant. After that, the game opens up.

As stated before, this is a survival game with a wide open area to explore. The biggest thing about this game is that there are no maps, meaning the player must rely on recognizable locations to navigate. Though this isn’t entirely up to the player to remember, as the hominid can “remember” specific locations (only one at a time until later). The game encourages exploration and there are many ways to get around, most notable by swinging from branches to branches and climbing up cliffs and tree trunks. This is the best way to avoid many predators and enemies that can often be found on the ground floor.

There are many animals that can and will attack any and all available hominids. From predators such as the Machairodus (early Sabertooth Tigers), Crocodiles, Black-backed Jackals, and even Hyenas. Crawling Threats include Megarian Banded Centipede, African Rock Pythons, and Black and Green Mambas. While Irascible Threats (creatures that are typically passive, but can and will attack if the player gets too close) such as Giant Warthogs, African Buffalos, Hippos, Miocene Elephants (easily the strongest and most difficult animal), and even Miocene African Otters (which are far more aggressive and bigger than current otters).

With a Clan, the player can control a single hominid and by bonding with another adult hominid of the opposite gender, a bond can be formed, making the two a couple, thus leading to procreation. Once a child is born, Neuronal Energy can be gained by performing certain actions and this Energy is used to Evolve the present Hominid. But if that Hominid dies, all Neurons (upgrades) are lost unless they had a child and said Neurons become permanently locked upon changing a generation.

And now, the time has finally come for my Final Recommendation: Never Let Go Of It||Get It||Hold Onto It||Try It||Consider It||Stay Away From It

I won’t lie, this game isn’t for everyone. It can feel really slow at times and though this is a game that doesn’t hold your hand, it’s also the kind of game that tosses you into the deep-end of the pool while being tied to a 40-pound weight and expecting you to swim.before you drown. While you are told how to play the game and the general controls, they expect you to instantly remember everything. But at the same time, it can feel satisfying when things finally click and you can do things without really thinking about it. There are (in-game) days where you can do a lot of things and make tons of progress, while there are other days where things run slowly with little to no progress being made. I myself, despite enjoying the game, couldn’t play it two days in a row, as my interest wasn’t great enough to do so. I would take a break from the game for days or even weeks before picking it up again.

The A (XBox)/X (PS4) is used for almost everything. Picking up items, running, jumping, eating, sleeping, swinging, and dodging/attacking. The X (XBox)/Square (PS4) is used for hearing. B (XBox)/Circle (PS4) is used for smell. And Y (XBox)/Triangle) are used for “Intelligence”, which is what allows you to remember specific things, such as notable locations, animals, food, and items.

I couldn’t figure out where else to put this, but you’re given these side quests to do. They aren’t important in any way, but are there to encourage exploration and help you become more familiar with the idea. Pretty much all of them are about discovering a specific location. On to of encouraging exploration, the game also encourages experimentation and traveling outside your comfort zone. When you start the game, your clan’s territory is very small, but it doesn’t take long before you have to explore and enter unknown locations. When entering a new location, the hominid will become scared and you’re required to gain dopamine by identifying things nearby, such as fruit, items, and even other animals before finally conquering your fears.

And at various points in the game, you’ll be required (but not explicitly forced) to take your clan and move to another location. This, of course, can make your an easy target for enemies. But they can be scared away by using Intimidate, with your group scaring them away. Intimidate hardly ever works while on your own with only a few exceptions. You also have to be careful, as while many injuries won’t outright kill you, that can hamper your movements, making it harder to get away from enemies. Bleeding is especially dangerous, as it can slowly cause your primate to bleed to death unless treated. Not to mention falling from too great a height can cause you to get a broken leg, which can either heal naturally (after a considerable amount of time), or using certain food. But even greater will outright kill your hominid. And not just falling onto the ground, but even onto a tree branch you planned on swinging from will impale your hominid.

When at least one child is born, you can change the generation, causing time to leap forward a few years, causing infants to grow into adults, adults into elderly, and the elderly die. And any female adults become infertile upon becoming elders. This can only be done at your Clan Settlement, while accessing the Evolution Menu (which is also used to gain Neuron). You can do this to Lock in a Neuron, thereby making it permanent for all hominids from that point forward But you only get a certain number of locks relative to the amount of children born in that generation. So if there are any that aren’t locked, they must be regained again.

After passing a Generation, you can perform an Evolution Leap, allowing you to jump ahead several thousand years, gaining more with each Feat you perform, marked by a checklist based on what you’ve seen or done. The more you do, the more you jump ahead. And if you do or discover certain things before what science dictates (like standing upright before 4 million years ago), you get an “Ahead of Science” bonus, jumping ahead even more years. Births also count to how many years are added while deaths (not counting natural deaths) take away from it.

I also want to mention that when you finally reach 2 million years ago, you get a final cutscene and the game just ends right there. I won’t lie, it’s rather underwhelming. But apparently, this is only the first part in a trilogy.

So with that said, I’ll see you guys next month, where I take a look at a game that it impossible to buy now and you can’t play it unless you already owned it or use an emulator. And no, I’m not talking about PT.

[rhotdornn]

More fluff in return for the torture: The lightest ‘boop’ on the nose.

Flick, flick, flick. 

The sweep of pages slowly tickled the roofs of his fingers, with each turn of parchment growing slower yet. Finally, after all the ruckus of claiming a fitting spot for his towel, ripe with palm's shade and robbed of commotion, he would be granted some respite to pursue the remainder of the story betwixt those leather covers. The intrusive, sly strings of sunlight barely flitted past the needles of palms, and the wind stilled obediently; a calm, seaswept breeze flourished from the ocean nearby, as the sloshing of azure waves bubbled into brilliant silver foam not too far off. His lungs breathed full with the sea's waft, and the scent of exotic foliage, with the occasional beverage trailing underneath his nostrils from the bar nearby. No caretaker duty sat perched upon the breadth of his tenacious shoulder; no worry placated his brow. His curved earlobes twitched twice in affirmation, as the jubilant cheer of his siblings crashed in union with the waters' waves--a ruckus of dashing, smashing, and ultimately splashing riling both the shallow and deep ends, as the Roegadyn family relished in their gleeful day off. Bear and Rally could easily maintain a sensible degree of responsibility over the lot while he maintained his solitude upon the beach, Dornn deemed. It had rarely been otherwise, anyroads. The rare day of relaxation would finally have him, and have him it shall, he though.

Or so.

The creeping shadow rose tall against the length of his back; into the shadow of the trees teetering cast overhead would it melt, offering little warning, and less so a chance for retaliation. Just as quickly as he had sunk into the near-endless trails of letters and symbols, losing any and all inkling of time and space, did the male Sea Wolf grunt out in a terse fashion--his spine briefly arching upwards, as the rear of his trunks gradually felt more and more drenched in... Water? A sudden weight seemed to apply against the ample round of his rear, promoting a growl to boil in his throat--and a less-than-merciful dagger to be flung from his gaze over his shoulder. He did not fancy getting chilled with sudden water--call it a pirate's irking pet peeve.

"Now, now... You know the water's perfectly fine un'er this arid sun, no?" The ever-so-familiar, dulcet strings of a harp flirted with his ears ever so playfully, not venturing to conceal a petite chuckle in the least, during the interim.

The Hellsguard bought ever-so-neat-a-perch upon his rear with her own, as he lay belly-first against the plush of his towel. The grating growl in his throat would subside, but only subtly so; for it would but migrate to the remainder of his breast, stilling and stirring gently beneath the sprawled towel itself. She appeared before him awash with the salty streams of the ocean--likely just having broken away from his siblings, he gathered. And of course, she'd venture nowhere else but to him first--to dry off of him, no less. Of course.

"...Aye, I do. Is why I sought t' drink in some warmth of the sand fore I bounced in. You know how difficult it is t' reel a Sea Wolf out of water once we splash, eh? Shouldn't you be spendin' some time with my siblings, anyroads?" His tone did not allude to any form of greater amusement with her antics--but the coy wrinkle of her lips upwards suggested she knew better. Just as he feared.

"...Babysit them, y'mean?" The Lohengarde mused knowingly back, her palms busying around a sizable tube, as her digits laboured to unseal it. 

"Hrmph. You make it sound like they can't bear their lot in life." He'd peer past her, the corner of his iris catching a hint of Dhem, quite literally sticking out, upside down, from the shallow end of the waters; his head enigmatically stuck in the sand, limbs flaying about. Dornn squinted in dismay, exhaling a decisive breath--decisive in its defeat, that is. His twin was not robbed of intelligence--just endowed with no shortage of... Idiocy.

Sometimes he truly did question the higher divines whether they were truly related.

"Me? I would never." Her tone was drenched in a fatal depth of sarcasm, a victorious chirp steering her thoughts away, as the tube she had previous entertained finally plopped open. "Alright, I better not be hearing any complaints effective immediately--lest you fancy suffering the nickname of Rhotomato for a moon. Or fortnight, at the very least." Upon her palm, the splatter of pearly cream would spread--the heavy scent of aloe and mint tantalizing both of their noses before long.

Rhotdornn squinted back at her, his intent of raising a fuss over the matter evaporating as soon as that nickname was introduced. Naught but an exasperated sigh streamed through his nostrils, his lower jaw rolling with disgruntlement. "You really mean t' not give me even a bell of rest, eh?" He chortled quietly as he surrendered his back and sides to her broad strokes, feeling the chilled agent spread across the scars of his spine, the aged wounds of his biceps, and the imperfections marring the flank of his ribs, prompting the crimson of his body hair to brandish a softer shine. A final lick of the cream would dab upon his nose, complimented by a feather-felt, whimsical smack against it. This only forced a retaliation of him scrunching his snout in the matter of second--hardly pleased on the outside with her shenanigans... But when did he appear ever?

Once her attentive--and possibly a tad too meticulous--duties had been brought to a close, he would expect the entirety of her weight to lift and disperse from his rump.

Oh, who was he kidding.

As he returned to his book, it bewildered him little when he felt her perch expand, leaning the entirety of her front against his back, hoisting her feet merrily upwards, and her slippery, water-cooled arms past his shoulders, opting to lay atop of him instead. A curious mumble of her lips scratched against his earlobe, as she pried upon the muse of his attention at that given moment; upon the header of the book, a fine column of northern runes stretched across the top of the page, and not unlike it was the footer; the writ had been inked in the archaic Old Tongue, native to the Roegadyn of eld--and still upheld by Aerslaentean Sea Wolves all the same.

"So, what'cha readin' that's got a Wolf parted from the Sea?" She cordially inquired, daring to sink a fingernail or two into the scruff of his proud, blood-inked beard.

"Chronicles and epics of me ancestors, for the most part. Just finished skimmin' over the ship Haerfatyr rode 'cross stream and storm--'tis said the Aerstskyf could brave Sea, Land and sundry--but it would always reach its destination, come hells or high waters. No mention is made where Grandfather hid it, or if he made away with it at all, though." Skimming had been nothing short of an understatement as he recited the scripts, before finally turning the page, landing where he had left off in the previous session.

Ember's dried index suddenly prodded against a particular rune--with a word underlined beneath it. Rhotdornn attentively regarded the finger, his glare hardly wavering as she wondered out loud.

"And this? I have ne'er seen this word before... Wonder what it means..."The Sea Wolf had immediately primed a reply--but it caught still in his throat. His voice degraded in volume, yet the thrum of his bass only grew bolder and profound. "Kinship. The bonds that tie a Clan and all those within it, unitin' them under a shared purpose, goal or tradition." He could feel her own breath quell briefly, and her alacrity grow all the more demure and reserved.

"Ah..." She whispered beneath her breath, her lids falling at half mast, her spirit shrinking ever so briefly.

That was, until a vacant, large palm joined the gaps of her own--slipping his fingers between her slender digits, and reinforcing them all the more with a reassuring squeeze.

His was always a proud smile, wielded and heralded akin to a banner; yet this time, the softer glow of compassion and affection warmed his lips, and lit up his expression. Underneath his beard rode a whisper, reserved for no ears other than her own to suffer it.

"Hey, now... 'Tis done. What came to pass, came to pass--water that long since had flown with the current, far out and then some, seepin' out of yer life for good. You're here and now--not back then an' there. This is where ye live. This is where ye shape the future that's to come. Besides..." He'd nudge his noggin to the side, beckoning her to briefly snag a glimpse of the crowd within the waters. For a blessing, Dhem had just managed to plunge his head from the bed of sand--how he had not asphyxiated by now, none could hazard to guess.

"What're they, if not family t' ye now? Are ye not kin with them? Sure, half o' us are Sea Wolves, yet that matters lil'. Ye've been afforded a new jab at life, a new chance t' prosper in a land unforgivin' an' not wholly inclined o' givin' new chances. From this day on, whether ye have a kinship of yer own depends wholly on you... You can choose t' forge a bond, a future, a tie with them now, and cast off the shackles o' the past. Come what may, howe'er..."

He'd lean his head up in a gentle angle, granting the imprint of a kiss of his lips upon her cheek--and equally so imparting on her a resident curl of cream from his snout she had failed to entirely spread with every intention of stoking her spirit. His comforting smile never waned in its genuine arc of affection.

"I'll always be here."

[gutsxalucard-blog]

Below are a list of DBZ Cos Ready to rp with. I usually rp as Gohan

Name:

Gohan Son/Son Gohan

Aliases

Hero of Time, Hero of the Mystic Sword

Age:

20

Race:

Human-Saiyan hybrid

Voice:

Saffron Henderson (kid) & Brad Swaile (teen +)

Mother:

Son Bulma| Status 《Alive》

Father:

Son Goku| Status 《Deceased》

Grandfather:

Bardock| Status 《Deceased》

Grandmother:

Fasha| Status 《Deceased》

Sensei:

Goku (martial arts), Bulma (inventions, education & tech) and Tapion (swordsmanship)

Best friend:

Ginjo-shu (Chi-chi and Yamcha's son)

Love interest:

Bubble the Majin (from an alternate universe)

Rival:

Piccolo

Personality:

Unlike his canon counterpart, Gohan is selfish, intelligent in both fighting and inventing, he also is still short tempered but calm and a lot more confident confronting enemies.

However, he is caring and lighthearted in his downtime like his dad but pulls no punches in battle and never underestimates his opponants.

Intelligence level:

Genius in fighting and technology. Is well versed in wormholes, repairing and Building as well as a strategic confident but not cocky fighter.

Appearance:

{Hair color} Purple (respectfully same as Trunks and this version of Bluma who retains her manga version hair color)

{Hairstyle} resembles cannon Gohan's hairstyle.

{Eye color} blue

{Boots & Gloves} made by Bulma with Capsule Corp logo on the boots.

{Gi} inspired by Goku, altered by King Kai upon personal request.

{Accessories} Tapion's mystical sword, ocarina and scarf.

Job occupation:

Helps Bulma run Capsule Corp and is a Z-fighter under the leadership of Piccolo. Training to be an inventor/business partner while keeping in top physical shape.

Villains:

{Raditz, Vegeta, Nappa, Turles, Lord Slug, Dr. Willow (replaces Dr. Gero), The Ginyu Force, Frieza, Leech, Cooler & King Cold, Bojack}

Attacks, Abilities & Transformations:

Personal {Scatter Shot, Flair Shot, Hyper Wave Buster, Spirit Sword, TK Blast, TK Push, TK Shield, Mystic Kaio-ken (kaio-ken + Rage Boost mode changing red ki to white into a perfected version of the technique), Dragon Knee Strike (executed with his knee similar to the Dragon Fist)}

Tapion {Brave Cannon, Brave Slash, Melody of Containment (activated with Tapion's Ocarina through a melody and can trap enemies within his ocarina and summon and control them if they're weak minded.) }

Super Saiyan form is potentially achievable but he has not achieved it yet so far in his story.

Rank

Second strongest under Kami fused Piccolo.

Weapon:

Tapion's Sword and Ocarina

Extras:

Gohan took up an interest in Wormholes and with the help of his mother, instead of a time machine, they managed to construct a device Bulma ends up calling a "Universe Hopper" which gave him access to create small windows to wormholes.

Bio

The son of Bulma and Goku from another universe. Most of what has been discussed by Masakox in his what if vids had come to pass in the first few stories that were told except that his tail was removed on the day he was born since she knew the reprocutions of having it around and Goku died finishing off Frieza with Namek still blowing up.

However, unlike his version, not only did he get to train with his dad and King Kai but also Tapion in swordsmanship and after the Namik saga it becomes more of a traditional adventure story with Gohan, Leech and Ginjo-shu mirroring Goku, Bulma and Yamcha in DB up to when Gohan reaches adulthood. They even get to visit other worlds thanks to Gohan and Bulma's new wormhole tech.

Gohan grew up with Ginjo-shu and Leech twins of Chi-chi and Yamcha and sparred together. They even teamed up to face new threats along their parents as occasional Z-Fighters.

He never masters the Kamehameha since he wanted to stray away from being cliche and respect that the technique was his dad's Roshi's and Krillin's since he already learned to master and unlock a new perfected form of Kaio-ken which he named "Mystic Kaio-ken" (a nod to the Mystic form of the cannon Gohan) and basic martial arts from his father, that it was enough to develope his own techniques.

Being that he's more of a fighting and technological genius thanks to his mother Bulma. In this universe, Goku had died after Namek had blown up unable to make it out in time. However, at this time Goku had married Bulma and they had a child. Goku is last seen on Namik as are the three as a family. He sacrifices himself to finish off Frieza deciding to stay dead and pass on the toech to his son Gohan so he can start having his own adventures with Leech and Ginjo-shu and return frequently to join the z-fighters when a new threat arrives. This is his story.

Notes:

Nonexisting characters of this universe

{Cell, Buu, Abdroids, fusion, Janimba, anything/anyone from Super.}

Deceased Characters

{Raditz} killed by Piccolo

{Vegeta } killed in the Saiyan Arc by Gohan

{The Ginyu Force} by Goku, Gohan and Krillin

{Bulma} by Frieza which triggered Goku skipping SSJ to an ascended SSJ. Later revived by Dende's Dragon Balls.

{Frieza} killed by Goku

{Goku} died from Namek expliding sacrificing himself to kill Frieza. Requested to remain dead.

{King Cold} killed by his son Cooler due to a disagreement

{Lord Slug} By Gohan and Piccolo

TBC...

Living/ Reoccurring characters

{Bulma (died once but brought back to life), The Z-Fighters, Turles (reoccurring villain), Cooler}

Additional story changes to other characters

Chi-chi got together with Yamcha and they had twins. Chi-chi also has been an established Z-fighter and fights along side her husband Yamcha after Goku died giving her inspiration and reason to join. She did quit for a while to help raise her two children but later joined again with her children also becoming members of the team.

Bulma in this universe retains her purple hair from the manga to make it easier to distinguish between the two separate versions from the two worlds.

Frieza is female in this world, Goku's mother is Fasha and Krillin ends up with Marron from the Garlic Jr. Saga then with Launch from dragon ball who later got married.

After Bulma's first death on Namik before she was revived, instead of going super saiyan, Goku lost his mind and skipped a level becoming an ascended Super Saiyan (same form Vegeta and Trunks achieved during the Cell saga).

At the age of 10, Gohan had a period of peace after the defeat of Frieza

There's a time skip to when Lord Slug came into the picture then another when Cooler arrived. Bu this time, Gohan is an adult.

Lord Slug, Turles and Cooler are reoccurring villains of this universe and might team up in the future against the Z-Fighters.

Disclaimer: None of these are my original works all rights go to the original creators including the DA user for the adult version of my character: https://orco05.deviantart.com/art/David-Dragon-Ball-Z-OC-347117969

All I did was super impose him and edit the color palette as well as added the sword and ocarina.

============

Name:

Ginjo-chu

Name meaning:

a type of sake

Age:

19

Race:

Human

Mother:

Chi-chi

Father:

Yamcha

Sister:

Leech

Best friend:

Son Gohan

Attack list:

Fox Claw

Fox Hyper Beam

Spirit Boomerang

Personality:

Quick tempered, naive, caring, open with his feelings and stuborn to a fault. He's also loyal but also a bit of a hentai. His love interest is yet to be determined.

[B]Bio

Ginjo-shu was born along with his twin sister Leech, both offsprings of Yamcha and Chi-chi. After missing her opportunity at her last ditch effort to win over Goku over their promise they made, it was Yamcha who came in and swept her off her feet. It was a relationship meant to be, one that was not onesided and Yamcha to this day still loves Chi-chi and is there for her. Ginjo-shu is the scolar to be the ideal son for Chi-chi and studies hard. He does train once in a while with his parents and has a sibling rivalry with his twin sister who was born from unpredictable circomstances. With her dark side growing, she was unable to surpress her dark nature and turned on everyone becoming the enemy they had hoped to avoid.

After the loss of Goku, he joins his sister and Gohan to journey around the world and to different universes to have adventures of their own.

===========

[B] Name:

Leech

[B]Age:

17

[B]Race:

Human-Namekian Hybrid (Lord Slug's DNA)

[B]Mother:

Chi-chi

[B]Father:

Yamcha/Lord Slug

[B]Mentor/sensei:

Piccolo

[B]Attack list:

Masenko

Beam from mouth

Rapid fire ki blasts

Able to stretch her limbs

Enhanced hearing

[B]Bio

Leech is a biproduct of Lord Slug who implanted his DNA into Chi-chi's embryo with the intention to maintain his legacy upon him taking his last breath before dying. Lord Slug was the main villain for the Z-Fighters after Freiza before Cooler's arival. Lord Slug was the last survivor of planet Namik and sought out to avenge Frieza's death since he was working in secret under his influence. With the help of the Z-Fighters, kid Gohan put a stop to Lord Slug, killing him in the process.

After a few years of being raised, Leech showed signs of her darker nature taking hold of her. This forced Piccolo's hand to step in not wanting another Lord Slug on their hands and by this time Piccolo had decided to fuse with Kami since Lord Slug proved to be more than a formatable foe giving him status of being the strongest of the Z-Fighters since he out powers Goku's Super Saiyan mode. Leech was Piccolo's awakening into his turning over a new leaf since he didn't have Gohan to help him out this time.

She later warms up to Gohan and joins him and her twin to have epic adventures, returning to reunite with the others when a new threat arrives.

[B]Notes

Although all Namekians are males, Leech was born under unusual circumstances through bioengineering of Slug's DNA into the female embryo creating the first ever human namekian hybrid female.

[oldbluethings]

So, I wrote the start of something because I am weak. (I was supposed to be grading exams but whatever.)

*warning for descriptions of injuries and blood*

                                                        Tony Stark had always known he would meet his end fighting against the creatures of night. He pictured dying in some epic battle, after a triumph over the dark, at some nebulous time in the far future. Hopefully, when he was old and had already done everything he wanted to do.

He just never thought it would happen so soon. And on a Wednesday, too.

The vampire on top of him was powerful—an elder of its kind, twisted so far beyond human by a millennium spent feeding off the blood of innocents that its body hardly obeyed the laws of physics. White and bloated like a grub, it should have been slow and fragile, but it was still stronger than his suit at maximum power. Even the protective runes drawn by his nanites on the metal had no effect against the creature. The vamp tore through them like they were made of tissue paper.

"Armor coverage at seventy percent. Power at fifteen percent. Deploying back up." Even Friday sounded concerned, Tony thought. As any A.I. worth her salt should be.

This was his fault, really. He’d been caught unaware on his nightly patrol. Maybe he'd grown complacent. He'd gone out tonight expecting to dispatch a few newly-turned bloodsuckers, maybe take out a ghoul or two. He'd never encountered such an old vampire so far from any known nest. Creatures that lived to this age rarely ventured above the ground.

And, yet, here it was, trying to rip his armor open and eat him.

So, yeah, Tony Stark was going to die. He'd just never expected it to happen on a fucking Wednesday, of all days.

He'd just decided to initiate the suit's self-destruct sequence, when a dark shape suddenly hurtled out of the darkness and slammed into the vampire, releasing a shower of orange sparks. A wolf, Tony realized, when his eyes had adjusted to the dark once again. A huge black wolf, as large as a man. A wolf that now had its jaws locked around the grub-like vampire's white neck. The two of them scrambled on the ground in a frantic struggle. The vampire let out a shriek that made Tony's ears ring and clawed at the furred body. Orange sparks crackled and hissed and formed sigils in the air.

Tony could only stare. Magic? What the hell?

The wolf thrashed, trying to rip the vampire's head off, Tony realized. But this bloodsucker was strong. Probably stronger than any were could ever be. More magic flashed bright and faded and the wolf let out a cry like a wounded dog. The vampire had managed to pull one of the wolf's front legs to its mouth and bite down. The wolf whimpered but its jaws stayed locked on the vamp.

Tony scrambled back. Fuck, if that vampire broke free, he was next...

He had to act before that happened. Not enough power left in the arc reactor to produce a photon blast, but his nanotech could still make a weapon. He staggered to his feet just as the long blade finished forming on his right gauntlet.

The wolf was in trouble now. He gave the vampire's neck another desperate shake, but Tony could tell he was weakening. Blood flew from the wound on the wolf's leg and spattered the dirt around them. The huge body was now covered in wounds, sides heaving. Whatever magical protection was on it had failed completely. The vampire's screams had turned into a high-pitched gurgle.

Tony approached the fight as close as he dared, blade ready. "Let go," he muttered.

Intelligent blue-green eyes turned toward him.

Tony nodded at the wolf. "Let go. I've got him."

The wolf leaped away just as the vampire surged up, shrieking.

Tony swung his sword as hard as he could and sent the vampire's head flying off into the bushes. Black ichor pulsed from the neck and the body slumped to the ground, shuddering in the dirt.

"Holy shit," Tony breathed. He sliced off a still-twitching arm and then a leg for good measure. The body finally lay still.

Fucking undead.

"Friday, damage report." He needed a few moments to get his breath back.

"Down to ten percent power, Boss. Nano particle population at sixty-seven percent. And you’ve suffered multiple contusions and a possible concussion. You should have that looked at."

Tony smiled. "Will do." It would be simple enough to ask Bruce to check him out when he got home. But the smile faded when he remembered he wasn't done here. Not yet. "Fuck," he muttered. He watched as nanites containing a silver-copper alloy streamed down and coated the blade. But he'd suddenly lost the stomach for killing.

"You all right, Boss?"

"Yeah, Fri. I'm fine. Which way did he go?"

"Tracking heat signature." The map appeared on his screen seconds later, blue line snaking erratically deeper into the forest.

The wolf hadn't gone far. And he wasn't a wolf anymore.

Tony found the naked man collapsed in a hollow formed by the roots of a tree, one hand wrapped around a terrible wound in his forearm, pale skin covered in blood and dirt. The man's eyes—blue-green and still sharp, but wet with pain—tracked Tony's movements warily as he approached.

With his black, silver-streaked hair and neatly-trimmed goatee, he looked more like a college professor than a man who had been an animal just a few minutes ago. Tony had never seen a were who looked so... controlled. He'd never met a were who could use magic. And he'd certainly never had a were save his life.

The man's eyes flicked down to the blade, then back up to Tony's face. He nodded, almost to himself. "Do it," he rasped. "Just"—he swallowed hard—"be quick. Please." He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the tree trunk, exposing his throat.

Tony raised the blade slowly. Werewolves were vermin, nothing more than dangerous animals. They served the dark. He'd sworn an oath to eradicate their kind. He'd killed dozens of them without a second thought. But tonight...

"Fuck," he muttered again. He tapped the nano housing unit and the blade receded. He wasn't in any danger. Not right now.

Tony considered the defenseless were before him. "Why did you save my life?"

The man opened his eyes again and his brows drew together in confusion. "I don't... I don't know," he mumbled. "I just... I wanted... to." His eyes started to slip closed.

"Shit." Tony grabbed for the man just as he slipped sideways. Now that his hand wasn't covering up that vampire bite, Tony could see it was bad. Dark blood seeped from the wound in slow pulses. "Friday? Vitals?"

"Heart rate at one-hundred sixty beats per minute. Respiration at forty breaths per minute. Blood pressure eighty over fifty-three and dropping fast. Dangerously low levels, even for a were. I also detect traces of vampire venom. That can be fatal to weres if left untreated."

For the second time that night, he didn't think, he just gathered the unconscious man in his arms and took off, clearing the tops of the trees and heading for home.

"Friday, estimated flight time to base?"

"Approximately seven minutes at your current speed." Friday actually hesitated before continuing. "May I ask, Boss? What do you plan to do with him once you get there?" It was highly illegal to harbor or aid a sub-natural creature like a were. And both he and his A.I. knew it.

Tony sighed. "I have no fucking clue."

[plussizeappreciationfics]

Headcanon: Support

Requested by @overlordred: Hi Babe! If one of those spots are still open I'd like to cast my bid, I was wondering if you could do a mixed race reader (black&white) x Lance Tucker where she's an engineer and she competes in Battle Bots with her epic robot and Lance is her number one supporter? If you're not into it I totally get it, and I still love you soooooooooooooo much! Bye! xoxoxoxo

Pairing: Biracial (Black and Caucasian) plus sized reader x Lance Tucker

Warning(s): none

Word count: 630

~~~

-You were so nervous when you got the acceptance letter for competing in the Battle Bots. You had spent endless hours creating your own little robot for the competition and were afraid that you wouldn’t get accepted

 -Lance was the one who reassured you and told you to not worry about it because he believed in you. He was your biggest support system and you were so grateful to have him as your boyfriend

 -Although Lance didn’t understand a thing about engineering and robots, he admired and appreciated your intelligence. He began to be your motivational trainer, reminding you to take breaks to eat and drink as you were building or robot, reassuring you whenever you tried a new widget for it but failing and almost destroying your robot and trying his best to help you wherever he could

 -He even watched some YouTube videos and was awestruck, “What you’re doing is incredible baby” Lance whispered as you as you snuggled onto his under the covers. You were nervous because the following day, the robotic battle would take place and you still weren’t sure if your robot was qualified enough

 -“Thank you baby” you smiled while resting your head against your boyfriend’s chest and instantly falling asleep. Lance’s last thought was how he wished that you would win the robotic competition so that you would be able to relax again and enjoy life a little more

 -The following day, you woke up with a churning stomach. You and Lance quickly got ready for the day and went to work. At four pm you got off work and drove immediately to the event, where you’d meet your boyfriend who had your robot

 -“Good luck baby” Lance smiled and gave you a sweet kiss before he handed you your robot and held the door open for you so that you could enter the event. He took his seat and nervously watched you check in by the jury with your bot before they examined your robot and gave you heads up to join the competition

 -You were so nervous but tried to keep it cool as you turned your robot on and took the controller in your hand. You let it move towards the mini fighting ring before they closed the door

 -“Three, two, one. Go!” your heart began to pound as you began to order your robot to fight your competitor’s bot. Before you knew it, you were in the final round against the multiple winner, the man who had won the battle three years in a row

 -The battle was nerve wrecking as your competitor’s robot had a circular saw and almost destroyed yours. Fortunately, you were able to beat him and receive the new tittle as winner of Battle Bot 2018

 -Lance almost lost in, he was jumping up and down, yelling and screaming “That’s my girlfriend! That’s my baby!” while blowing kisses towards you and smiling. He had been a nervous wreck watching your robot battle against the others

 -After your pictures and interviews were taken, you received your price and left the event. “I still can’t believe it, I knew you’d win and you really did!” Lance spoke as he was still pumped with adrenaline

 -You smiled and helped him butting your now almost destroyed robot in the trunk along with your trophy. “Thank you” you smiled lovingly at your boyfriend, “You helped and motivated me so much, I couldn’t have done it without you” you leaned in and gave Lance a sweet kiss on the lips

 -“No need to thank me, but let me give you your second price when we arrive home” he whispered and pecked your lips one last time before the two of you got into the car and drove away from the event

Tag list: @buckybarnesappreciationsociety  l @pleasantdreamqueen l @disneymarina l @koizorahana l l @harleycativy l @itik-angsa l @sparklemichele l @melaninmarvel l @amethyst09 l @the-force-of-imagines l @bossyboyd03 l @sapphiretouch l @pebblesz892 l @stars8melanin l @brittyevans l @toc1985 l @janeyboo l @badassbaker l @greyfourrose25 l @lafayettes-baguettes-1 l @winters-beauty l @cannonindeez l @purplemuse l @ilovefanfic86 l @foureyedsiopao l @adorablespecialsnowflakes

-Emma

[bananadata]

Ancient dreams of intelligent machines: 3,000 years of robots

Lots of stories about how people have reacted to automation through the years illustrate how opinions have evolved.

“The French philosopher René Descartes was reputedly fond of automata: they inspired his view that living things were biological machines that function like clockwork. Less known is a strange story that began to circulate after the philosopher’s death in 1650. This centred on Descartes’s daughter Francine, who died of scarlet fever at the age of five.

According to the tale, a distraught Descartes had a clockwork Francine made: a walking, talking simulacrum. When Queen Christina invited the philosopher to Sweden in 1649, he sailed with the automaton concealed in a casket. Suspicious sailors forced the trunk open; when the mechanical child sat up to greet them, the horrified crew threw it overboard.

The story is probably apocryphal. But it sums up the hopes and fears that have been associated with human-like machines for nearly three millennia. Those who build such devices do so in the hope that they will overcome natural limits — in Descartes’s case, death itself. But this very unnaturalness terrifies and repulses others. In our era of advanced robotics and artificial intelligence (AI), those polarized responses persist, with pundits and the public applauding or warning against each advance. Digging into the deep history of intelligent machines, both real and imagined, we see how these attitudes evolved: from fantasies of trusty mechanical helpers to fears that runaway advances in technology might lead to creatures that supersede humanity itself.

Arguably the oldest known story of something approximating AI can be found in the eighth-century-bc Iliad, Homer’s epic poem of the Trojan War. In it, Hephaestus, disabled god of metalworking, creates golden handmaidens to help him in his forge: “In them is understanding in their hearts, and in them speech and strength, and they know cunning handiwork”. Hephaestus was also supposedly responsible for the first ‘killer robot’, Talos. A mechanical bronze colossus featuring in the third-century-bc epic Argonautica, it patrolled the shores of Crete, lobbing boulders at invaders.“

Read the report by Nature

[enterinit]

New Xbox One Games for March 11 to 13

New Xbox One Games for March 11 to 13.

Overpass (March 17)

In OVERPASS™, the scree slopes, steep inclines, tree trunks and bogs present as much of an obstacle to victory as other drivers. At the controls of powerful buggies and quads from major manufacturers, such as Yamaha, Polaris, Arctic Cat and Suzuki, venture off into extreme off-road environments and challenge yourself on the game's highly technical tracks. Cope with vehicle damage, and negotiate the many natural and artificial obstacles in your way to achieve the best time possible. Pure speed is not the name of the game; you'll need to master the realistic terrain physics and unique characteristics of the game's vehicles. Carefully select your UTV or ATV, plot your route intelligently, and manage your acceleration and the various differential and drivetrain options to dominate in local and online competitions. https://youtu.be/5W-lxTANDB4

Phantasy Star Online 2 (Open Beta) (March 17)

The PSO2 open beta lets players choose from four races and nine classes to explore up to 14 locations while tackling various missions and achievements. When logging in for the first time, players will receive a variety of weapons including swords, assault rifles, rods, and gunblades as well as consumables to get started. In addition to the immersive story, the North American version will also include the most-up-to-date balancing and quality-of-life improvements with fully localized text and character voices in English.

La-Mulana (March 17)

Take control of archaeologist Lemeza Kosugi and navigate through puzzles, traps, and deadly Guardians in order to claim the Secret Treasure of Life. You’ll need sharp wits, quick reflexes, and most importantly, all the courage you can muster. Will you succeed in unraveling the secrets of La-Mulana, or will you fall victim to the dangers that surround you?

La-Mulana 2 (March 17)

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[teechew]

Real Name: Shieldmaiden-0573 Nickname : Lagerth-a Age:  5 year Occupation:  Sentry, adventurer. Base of Operations:  Norway Affiliation:  MoM factory. Rôle : Tank

Backstory: « MoM » is a god AI located in the north of Norway. All around the AI a factory is snow and ice. Really isolated from everything. The factory is building modeles called shieldmaidens. Those omnics, bigger and sturdier than the others are made to be close range fighter and excel at defense moves. During the Omnic crisis the Norway army tried to shut MoM down but failed to even get near the factory, all the maidens had aligned and stacked to form a living wall, in case of damage, MoM would supply more shieldmaidens to keep the wall up. Even the stricking team Overwatch failed at infiltred their defenses. After the crisis and once the war calmed down the maiden wall shatter of itself, the army was surprised to not found any sort of super-weapon or super-omnic inside the factory… Nothing had changed and it seems that MoM only wanted to be protected by her own during the Crisis. Since then MoM is under strict surveillance and a unit of scientist is studing the « family behavior » the units have between them. Unlike a normal hive they don't have a collective intelligence but do have a collective memory ; each shieldmaiden is different and have her own personnality. The shieldmaidens are all looking the same : around 6ft tall, long thin legs that allow them a high mobility in the snow despite their weight, long and large arms made of an organisation of small honeycomb panels, the shieldmaiden can re-organise them as they want. A white armor protect their softer exosquelettons and wires. Their highlight are blue. Shieldmaidens are obedient and will refer to each other as « Sisters ». However, since a few year, MoM seems to have shut down in activity for an unknow reason, doesn’t build anymore shieldmaidens and the already existing shieldmaidens are abnormally aggressive. Scientist tries to understand what is happening but with no sucess until now. The situation degenerated so much that all shieldmaidens had to be physically contained… All but one. Unit 0573, the last shieldmaiden build before MoM shutdown and unlike her sisters her highlight were green. Until now only two colors has been observed : blue and red… Red being a danger/combat mode where the shieldmaidens were dangerous. Unit 0573 had a very curious and peppy personnality and scientists actually appreciate her company, they even gave her the nickname of Lagerth-a. They tried to use Lagerth-a to understand what was happening to MoM but she explained that she needed to « be linked to MoM to understand her… ». The scientist were baffled by this new, Lagerth-a wasn’t linked to MoM, she wasn’t part of the « family » !! when they asked Lagerth-a if she agreed to be plugded to MoM she refused very violently.

« NO ! MoM’s sick ! If I get plugded I’ll be sick too ! »

Face with such an unexpected reaction from a previously judged innofensive and calm omnic the scientists were taken by surprise and kept studying the case « lagerth-a ». Little did they know that MoM had been under a hacking attack since many years and if she resisted to be totally taken over her daughter weren’t as lucky, the hacker has them under their control and she’s glad the human contain them all. MoM used her last free will to create a back-up of herself in a shieldmaiden body : unit-0573. Once this shieldmaiden created, she shut her factory to the minimal to keep her daughters safe and keeping the hacker to create more maidens to serve their plans. She implanted an objective in Lagerth-a circuits to warn « the best omnic engineer » to help them. However Lagerth-a’s current problem is to escape the factory and the scientists… She did try to leave but the steppe are big and scientists always find her to get her back to the factory.

Personnality: Since the potential of MoM is locked in Lagerth-a circuit she can’t use it as it’s full potential, she act like a perfectly normal shieldmaiden with an average intelligence and no exceptionnal capacities. Peppy and curious of a lot of thing she loves small things… Yes, human are «small things ». She has a very strong family instinct and will bond over anyone who will stay near her for an extended time… And she will be VERY protective of said family. Due to being cut from MoM and the other shieldmaidens, she doesn’t have the shared memory of the first omnic crisis but she does express regret and sadness for such a violent past and apologize about it.

Health : 600 (300 health + 200 armor + 100 shield) Primary weapon : Hard light panels. She launch her arm panels on her ennemies. 10 ammo (5 on each arm). Each panel have a honeycomb design. Her reload animation is actually the arms panels coming back to her like magnets. The more she uses panel the less shield she have, Each panel represent 10pt of her shield.

Left click: Arm panel, slow pace but the closer you are the more damage it does. She just have to wave the arm around her, the panels travel with a slight curve in their road, they are link to her and will return after seconds. Right click (hold): Closes her arms around her and enters her « shield » form. She generate a small zone on the ground in wich all her teammate earn a 100pt shield as long as they stay in. She cannot moves when she’s in that state and need a 1s. animation to get out of it ; she can come in and out of this form as she want. The shield’O’meter  is going down as ennemy fire at her. and once destroyed she’ll be force out of her stase ; if it is destroyed she’ll be back in her mobile form without any shield and armor, leaving her vulnerable. She’ll have to wait for her shield to regenerate. Secondary attack: « Laser beam ». Shot a straigh long laser beam from her visor. Lots of damage but very precise attack, ideal to annoy snipers, has a 7s cooldown, stop at the first wall (or shield) it encounter. Ability: « Twirl ». Lagerth-a raise her arm and rotate her torso, hitting all opponent present in her arms diameter. She can moves while doing so. 5s cooldown. Ultimate: « Family protect eachother ! ». Lagerth-a enter her shield form except this time the ground surface is way bigger and can easily cover a control-point size and gives a shield of 500 pt to her teamates. However this time she cannot get out of it and have to wait until the end (total duration is of 10s) you still can force her out of this stase by damaging her and it will leave her without shields. In short, she protect her teammates but needs to be protected in return.

Skin: Rare(recolors) : helmet (blue), pauldron (green), cuirass (red), faulds(yellow) Epic : greave (Omnic crisis – frost cammo), gauntlet (talon’s colors – evil AU) Legendary : - Honey (bee colors) and  Tawny (tiger colors) - Calm (ice elemental) and Fury (fire elemental) Sport : - Recolored in red, white and dark blue in the Norway colors (sport : synchronized swimming) Halloween : - Forest troll with huge trunk as arms and tiny branch as legs. Her head is covered by a big stump, firefly around her Christmas : - Pine-tree : resemble a decorated tree, garlands and decorations around her limbs, her head band is star shaped and she can light the garlands to glows.

Emotes: - Heroic : Take a step back, relax her shoulders and look around. - Sitting : Lift herself with her arm, places her legs in cross-legged and slowly lower herself on the ground. - Laughting : Chuckle a second  while pointing at you. - Arm-panel : Change her arm-panels organisation just for show. - Acrobat : Support herself with her arms and swing her legs in the airs, giggling. - Peek-a-boo : Enter her shield form in repetition with each time a different « booh » stance.

Victory pose: - Heroic: Stand proud. - Sport : Has a « tadaa » pose with her arm lifted and appart, leg crossed elegantly. - Halloween : Stand alof, looks « empty ». - Christmas : Similar to the « over the shoulder » of Tracer, garlands blinking. - Ready : One arm in front, ready to give some. - Shield : In her shield mode, her visor looks around. - Bubble-head : Look in the wrong direction (back to the camera) in her default pose.

Voice line: - Ultimate : « Family protect each other ! » - Sport : « All together ! » - Halloween : « My bark is harder than my bite ! » - Christmas : « The ideal time to spend with family ! » - “I'm telling MoM !” - “Are we there yet ?” - “I like this floor ! ” (AI) - “Mind if I… zip this up ?” (robocop) - “You should try blue, it’s the new red !” (Wall-E) - “You know, somehow, "I told you so" just doesn't quite say it.” (I robot)

Highlight Intro: - Heroic: Straigten her back, her arm panels fly around her before going back to their places. - Sport : Slowly stick her legs out of the water and twirl with her big arms - Halloween : Wave violently her huge arm while firefly fly around her - Christmas : Close from her face, she light her star-shaped headband, the camera suddently  pull back as she light all the other light of the « tree » - Shield : Concentrate and close her shields on her, glowing with power. - Laser : Her arm crossed in front of her face, she open them and fire the laser. - Tower : Camera seems falling on the ground and turns to Lagertha who’s towering it with her long and thin legs.

Map: MoM factory, Objective : Control 2 points ; first point : Shieldmaidens assembly matrice, second point : MoM Story : MoM needs help, secure her factory so the scientist and ingeniors can progress easily. In the very north of Norway the whole place is cold and ice cover most of the surfaces. The factory itself seems to be made of glass and a blue iron, merging itself in the frozen steppe. Attacker spawn : Overwatch ice truck, similar to the Temple of Anubis one, with more blankets. Defense spawn : A storage room near MoM, full of pre-made shieldmaiden parts. All the screen present the red eyes (from Sombra origin video).

After getting out from their spawn the attacking team needs to enters MoM factory from the big and only door. No real flanking road except maybe the windows on the side but perfectly visible from the defending side. The first point to control is right after the door. In a huge open room, a computer like anvil await, silent in the middle, the walls are covered with glass cofins where the shieldmaidens are contained, they seems angry, their eyes red, arms chained around their bodies, they tapes against the glass, cables dangles around and there is no sound except the cracklign of the ice and the maidens taping. There is a small wall surrounding the anvil, preventing the defense team to get to the point immediatly, they need to contourn it, except the flying heroes (pharah, D.va, reaper can shadow step on the wall, junkrat, hanzo, genji, widowmaker…). Once the first point controled the attacking team’s spawn become a underground room, digged from the ice by humans, it seems to be a confortable but austere igloo. Once out they needs to contourn the little wall and continue through a straight corridor as large as Reindhartd shield, they are an easy target and the flanking road, a small human made tunnels through ice is contourning said corridor to end up right behind the point, on the other side from the defending team’s spawn. MoM tower the point and you can hear a calm humming from her core. The screens around her are all red with the same eye. Once captured a hearth-shaped matrice come out of the ground from the middle of the control point.

Inspirations: The draenei assemblage from Warlord of Draenor extension of World of Warcraft. Outfit inspiration: eeeh... the mechas ? Music theme:  //