#tsah

[steelycunt]

-> the son and heir of nothing in particular.

“There’s nothing keeping you here. You know that. And,” Sirius continues, “we don’t see enough of you.”

Remus lifts his gaze up over him. He’s been rationing the sight of Sirius, today, see. Each glance, etched into his retinas and tucked into the jacket of his father’s hand-me-down suit. Like a smoke, like a pear drop. Something sweet.

His mother is dead and he is thinking about putting his hands beneath his best friend’s shirt. Often, he worries that eventually resenting himself is not going to be enough, and he’s going to start resenting Sirius, too, for the mess he has made of him.

or:

Remus is nineteen and tired, now. And he knows that if he and Sirius were ever going to become anything—if Sirius loved Remus the way Remus loves, and will probably always love, him—it already would’ve happened by now.

-> read on ao3 / playlist.

[otrtbs]

okay thinking about the secret art history au fic idea i've had again and like yeah.

pandora taking them all out into the woods and taking a bite out of a raw deer heart for a performance art piece (james being absolutely horrified)

james running into regulus on day one who says "cubitum eamus?" instantly and james is like "??????"

peter turning up dead after betraying the art history group bc duh

marlene mckinnon breaking into a professor's art show and slashing all his paintings with a meat cleaver

all of the group meeting at sirius and regulus' elaborately decorated apartment the night before exams because it's a tradition to study doing drunk flashcards (they all show up to tests hungover except for dorcas and peter who never seem affected no matter how much they drink)

barty being a nepo baby and by being a descendant of michael knoedler and having a lavish country house everyone visits to drink whiskey out of tea cups and hold seances to talk to dead artists

the group running a little shop of forgeries that mary swears is just for practice at being an art restorationist but ,,, some of the fakes keep conveniently going missing

james staying over the winter break in a freezing vermont apartment with no heating before regulus shows up on his doorstep like 'come stay w me'

the group in charge of identifying 17th century prints for a project and sabotaging each other because the winner curates the university's next art show

lily taking james to a burger king parking lot to do cocaine after he starts spiraling about peter's death

instead of a bacchanal there's a heist challenge (most expensive work stolen wins) and people wind up in JAIL but regulus and sirius use their bajillion dollars to bail them out

pandora volunteering at a hospital to watch patients die so she can depict the changeover from life to death better in her artworks

their exams being all-intensive spot the forgery, restore this artwork, bring in a miniature of a gallery space u designed with artworks and an explanation of ur curatorial process

[thesunandhisstar]

My favourite thing about ttpd + Marauders is that everyone thinks the same song is about different people. And they are all right.

Like "Who's afraid of little old me" is Sirius? yes. Regulus? also yes. Remus? 100%

"But Daddy I love him" is Regulus, yup. Sirius- yup. Andromeda? yep. Remus? definitely.

[cycian]

I may be thinking about Starfield too much because me and my duo started unironically saying 'This really Sarahs my Morgan' or 'today is really Sarahing my tsah Morgan'

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!    

a/n: thank you to the beautiful creator of the grown-up Neteyam photo! P.s. I’m sorry for the crappy screenshot photos of the only Na’vi mating bond we see. I tried my best :’)

Warnings: spoilers for Avatar 2

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ        

ISFJ

Gryffindor

Lawful Good

8 of Pentacles

Leo Sun, Virgo Moon, Libra Rising  

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿  

・You were the eldest of Tonowari and Ronal’s children. A Metkayina leader of the future. 

・You have many skills, learning from both your parents and the other members of the clan. A great hunter, creator and a deep love for the ocean. 

・Eywa was a big presence in your life, something that your brother, Aounung was jealous of 

・Tsireya idolises you, and when she was younger, all she wanted to do was be around you

・However, you weren’t very outgoing, and preferred the company to one or two friends - or mainly yourself whenever you got the chance

・You have your own Tulkun, whom you love dearly. They’re incredibly protective of you, as you are for them. 

・That’s where you spend the majority of your free time - talking with your Tulkun. You have an incredibly close bond, almost like telepathical 

・When the Sully’s sought refuge, you were one of the first to speak up in their defence

・Not only did you like the look of the Omaticaya people, but you were curious about their ways. 

・You wanted to learn more - grow as a Na’vi. You wanted to be someone with an open-mind. 

・It was why you got along so well with your sister Tsireya, Aounung on the other hand was a bit of a challenge. He always had been. And being the middle child, he definitely liked to act out 

・You formed a close friendship with both Tuk and Kiri. You always found the young ones funny. It was your instinct as the eldest child to look after the younglings around you. 

・And with Kiri, you loved her connection to the land. You could watch her for hours as she interacted with the environment around her. 

・You could see that she was special; Eywa had something incredible in store for Kiri. You just wished the rest of the clan would accept them

・But your eye was always searching for Neteyam, the eldest of the Sully kids

・Almost like a guardian angel, you were there when he needed you most. And your brother would tease you relentlessly, but Tsireya understood. She encouraged you to pursue Neteyam

・As you encouraged her to pursue Lo’ak 

・And your romance was slow. Even though you both had deep feelings for each other, it was like neither of you could confess it. For one reason or another. 

・You spent time together, teaching him the ways of your people. He was especially interested in the coming of age rituals. Neteyam wanted to participate. 

・You told him he didn’t have to, that accomplishing the Omaticaya rituals was enough. But not for Neteyam, he wanted to prove himself. 

・Then, when the event happened with Quaritch, everything changed. 

・ Luck, no, not luck. It was destiny that you were there to save Neteyam. 

・What would have been a bullet would was only a flesh wound, however, it did cut him deep

・The Sully’s were eternally grateful, Neytiri especially. She nearly lost her firstborn, and for that she felt indebted to you. 

・However, Neteyam was wounded, and it took him a month to fully recover. You visited him everyday, bringing fresh food and changing his bandages. This was how you two grew close. A deep bond was formed. 

・You both felt Eywa’s presence when you looked into each other’s eyes and finally realised who you were to one another. Mates. 

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞No one under the age of 18 past this point, I bloody mean it.

・The mating ritual is the same for every Na’vi, it’s the connecting of the queues, from nightfall until sunrise. 

・The mating ritual and sex are two different things, but ultimately the Na’vi only have sex with one other for their entire lives. 

・And although Neteyam would have loved to perform tsaheylu underneath the Tree of Souls, the Metkayina don’t stay underwater for that entire time. 

・Some may choose to visit the Spirit Tree and connect for a brief moment while holding hands, or to choose a secluded spot and invite Eywa’s presence 

・You chose to do both

・Both of you swam down to the Spirit Tree and connected to it, seeing each other through the other’s eyes 

・You could feel the other’s love and devotion 

・After opening your eyes, you kissed and swam to the surface, where you found a vacant part of the beach to stay until the next day

・Connecting with Neteyam was like nothing you had ever experienced before. You were able to feel his pain, his happiness, the weight of responsibility and the dedication Neteyam has to his family 

・In turn, Neteyam felt the same. For you both had the duty of being the first born

・When the mating was completed, it was announced through all the clan that you were together 

・Tonowari held a great feast in your honour. He was more than proud, as was your mother, sister and brother 

・You had completed a big part of Na’vi life, and the Sully’s welcomed you into the family with open arms. Especially Neytiri, once she got to know you and how good of a hunter you were 

・Sex is different then mating, but you still connect your queues nonetheless. It intensifies the bond, and completely takes hold of your body, mind and soul

・Neteyam is a soft lover, he likes to make you feel loved, safe and worthy

・His favourite thing is to bite your neck though, especially when he’s in midthrust. It’s like another way of combining your bodies. He wants to be as close to you as possible

[beaniebeensbaby201]

SOULMATES

Lmk for pt2

Jake Sully x reader

Summary: y/n and Jake have had feelings for each other for a while. The only problem is that y/n's parents have forced her to be mated with Zo'at who was a great warrior. (Her parents are very close friends with Mo'at and Eytukan,(to make it clearer Mo'at is y/n's Aunt.)This is before the battle in the first film.

Fluff, angst,? Lmk for smut in pt 2

It was night, many people in the village had gone to sleep except two Na'Vi's. Jake sully and y/n who were yet to be tired.

"Where are we going?" Y/n continues to giggle as she hops over the branches as she stares up at the forest.

The forest glowed, Jake grabs onto her tail as she giggled once again.

"You'll see! Come!" She takes his hand in hers as she calls for her Ikran.

"Won't we get in trouble?" Jake asked not wanting to get on the bad side of her uncle.

"Please, I'm the master at sneaking out. I used to teach Neytiri when we were younger so we could swim at night, or have sleepovers together." Jake smiled, her heart stopped as she felt her cheeks burn.

She knew she was wrong for falling for another man, essentially a Dreamwalker. She didn't love Zo'at as he was too hard headed, as Jake was kind, he cared for her feelings and they held a close bond with one another.

Jake hopped onto The great leonopteryx(Neytiri mated with Tsu'tey as she knew she was not meant for Jake).

I looked to my left at Jake as he was already looking at me, his eyes held a different meaning, but I could not tell what it was.

I was nervous, as Jake was going to be one of us tomorrow, he was meant to find a woman, and he would be able to make a bow from the home tree. I know I was meant to be with Zo'at, but I do not love him.

Jake and I raced up the mountain I found while I was riding my Ikran earlier today.

"Where are we going?" He asked, I pointed up as he followed my finger.

"You'll love the view!" I shouted over the wind as I looked back at him.

We finally reached the mountain as our Ikrans were resting near each other.

"How did you find this place?" I hummed as I squatted, looking down as I saw the Sacred tree.

"I got into an argument with my parents today. They want me to mate with Zo'at soon." I sighed, closing my eyes as I sat down on my butt, my legs dangling as I stared down.

"What did you say?" Jake said, nobody in the clan knows that we were secretly together, besides Neytiri as she would help me lie when I am not there.

I smiled sadly, as I played with the end of my braid where my tsaheylu is.

I hadn't realized I was crying until I felt the tears fall down my cheeks.

"My parents found out about us, they do not want me to teach you our ways. Neytiri will be taking over, starting tomorrow. We can not be seen anymore." I let out a heave as I was trying to hold back a sob.

"I do not love him Jake, I love you!" I cried, getting up from my spot by the edge of the cliff I let out a shout.

"You shouldn't let your parents control who you should love." I shake my head.

"Mo'at is my aunt, she wants me to be the next leader after Neytiri. I am meant to be the nest Tsahik. My mother wants me to mate and bond with Zo'at. He is so arrogant, he thinks he's mighty he is not for me. I told them that I have found a mate, but when they realized who it was they told me to leave you." Jake takes my hand in his as I was now facing him, but I could not look into his green eyes.

"Zo'at and I have grown up together. My parents have decided since the day we have first met. We were seven, but I am twenty years old now. I am not a child anymore, I could choose the man I love without my parents consent. You are who I want. Even if you are a skydemon, but I do not see you that way." I rambled, my heart continued to shatter.

I felt his hands leave mine as he places them on my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"I love you, y/n. The niece of Mo'at, the next heir of the Tsahik. It's your choice to decide, it's not there's." Jake jabs his arms to the direction of the hometree.

His voice rasps, I lean my head on his chest as he wraps his arms around me.

"I'm sorry Jake, but I can not love you. We have to go our separate ways now Ma Jake." I could hear his heart beat pounding against my ear a his arms around me tighten.

I felt something tickle my skin as I noticed it was one of the seeds from the sacred tree. I let out a soft gasp as many more circle us. There has to be about thirty of them circling us.

"Atokerina." I whispered, Jake hums as the vibrations from his chest tickle my cheek.

"What does that mean?" I stayed silent, as I did not know the answer myself.

"Eywa." I whisper under my breath.

"What does Eywa have to do with us?" I slowly let go of my grasp on Jake, as he continues to keep his hand on my cheek, only for it to fall to my neck.

I held my hand out as three of them softly drop on my hand.

"She wants us to be together. But my parents would not allow it, there isn't a way for us to be together." But many more came after I said this.

"I don't think Eywa liked your response." Jake said in a teasing voice, but also serious at the same time.

"We're meant to be y/n." I let out a frustrated sound, not knowing what to do.

Soon the Atokerina's disappeared as Jake and I continued to stare at the trail of floating seeds of the tree of souls.

"Tomorrow, meet me here. I want to be with you Jake Sully. I do not care what my family thinks of me, we've been together for months without them realizing, I am happy with you. Zo'at is not the one I want, it is you." I leaned up on my toes, as he was a bit taller then me.

I connect our lips together, I let out a sigh as our lips meet. I could not live without him, he is mine, and I was his.

[sirenologyyy]

SWEET TO ME !

ao'nung x fem!sully reader

✷ premise : as tensions rise and your family is forced out of the only home you've ever known, fish boy meets forest girl and the rest is history (tragedy)

✷ warnings : kidnapping, swearing, injury, blood, violence, and death

✷ author's note : this ones gunna be a rollercoaster of emotions so... sorry about that

part 3 of the SOLD OUT OF LOVE series

He's brought you to a cave, the ocean seemingly only a gateway to a hidden world, for there lay an island surrounded by water, home to a plethora of lush fauna, full of bright flowers of different colours, leaves spread open like fans double the size of a Na'vi, the sand like crushed up gemstones glittering and shimmering underneath the sunlight, a throng of giant trees towering over you, almost brushing the ceiling, the ceiling in which had a hole big enough to allow sunlight in, giving justice to the island's glory.

You couldn't contain your awe and so you simply stood there, admiring the whole cave as your heart practically swelled at its beauty. "Oh my fucking Eywa" was all you could say, and everything you wanted to say.

"No one knows this place but me" says Ao'nung, stepping closer to you. "Here you will be able to feel simple again"

At that you turn around, looking at him in disbelief. "Ao'nung-"

"No" He stops you. "I won't hear any of it, this place is yours now... as much as mine"

So you recalculate your approach. "Thank you" You say instead.

He bows his head. "You're welcome"

You walk towards the island, well, more like ran, you were eager to see every bit of it, Ao'nung simply stood and watched as you leaped around, pointing things out he himself hasn't seen before, your laughter the only thing he could hear.

"So why'd you bring me here? To your secret spot?" You insist after a while, taking a seat on the rock as your eyes followed him, taking a seat beside you.

"It is my way of making my peace"

"You already said sorry"

You see him shake his head. "It is not enough, even after I have apologised I found that not even that could chasten the guilt burning inside me"

It made you think.

"It's me... doing you a solid " He says, the unfamiliarity of the phrase to him making it known, despite all that it made you bite down on a grin. "I'm still not entirely convinced I was the first person you've brought here"

"You don't believe me?"

You shake your head. "Nah"

He scoffed.

"So you're telling me you didn't even bring Rotxo here?"

"No"

"Not even your other friends?"

He sneers at you. "Especially not them"

"Not even a few girls?" You grinned suggestively.

He shoves you away, both of you laughing. "Cut it out, of course not"

You stood in front of him now, showing him your hands. "Maybe I'm getting this all wrong, what about boys?"

He half-shrugged, staring up at you. "A few close calls but... no, they did not want to pursue the son of the Olo'eyktan"

You give him a small smile, a distant one. "Back home, neither did they, no one there took me seriously, it's the problem with keeping your options open, they get scared, run for the hills, leaving you with nothing"

His eyes snapped up. "Wait-"

"You're kidding me, you didn't take a guess?" You laughed. "Like calls to like"

His aquamarine eyes still on you, he lets out an amused scoff. "Huh"

This was where you hum, nodding in understanding. "So, i'm the only girl you've ever brought here?"

"The first and the last" He replied darkly.

"Am I just gunna turn into one of your Na'vi sacrifices?"

"Keep talking and you might find out"

You let out a lone cackle, pulling your head back and allowing your laughter to let loose, seemingly drunk off of nothing but the pure idea of having a good time with the same boy you wanted to kill just a few days ago, and he sees all of this, from your cheeky grin, to your flushed cheeks, to your narrowed amber eyes that glistened as your body shook with laughter.

"I feel like you'll tell me that you don't actually like leading people and that you want to become a Tsahík instead" You say, turning your back on him and walking towards a white flower that grew on stringy vines, you rub the petal, feeling the smooth, delicate surface in between the pads of your fingers before propping yourself up.

"I do"

"Wow, that was spot on" You say, mostly to yourself.

"But how do you know that Forest Girl?" He wonders, looking you straight in the eyes, the huskiness of his accent mixing with the silvery nature of his voice only inclining you to tell him why.

"Your face, your bruises healed quickly than your friends, and I expect they paid a visit to your mother after the fight" You explained, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "Your hands were dyed purple when you saw me by the rocks, and I recognised the smell, you used tam'bon on your face and your knuckles mixed with other poultices from the many mixtures your mother has in your Marui, you'd have to be paying really close attention to know which to use on your face"

"My mother is the Tsahík, I see her healing people everyday"

"No" you stop him. "Only someone this passionate about healing would be taking note of everything the Tsahík does, it isn't a coincidence, you were listening on purpose"

His eyes widened like saucers. "Wow"

"You used yalna bark too, I can tell"

He nods, standing to his feet. "Impressive"

"One of my many, many talents" You bragged, giving him a sly smirk. "You should try guessing me next"

"Fine uhhh" He sang, rubbing his knuckles together. "You don't like being told what to do"

"Yes, but very obvious, dig a little deeper"

"Fine" He says again. "You're the oldest daughter?"

"No, you forgot about Kiri, Lo'ak goes after her, I go after Lo'ak"

"Really?" He asks. "I always thought you were older than her"

"How?" You questioned him genuinely, until a light bulb buzzed to life above your head. "You know what? this could be a thing"

"What thing?"

You sit down in front of him. "There's this game we play back in the Omaticayan Village, it's called 20 questions, instead of us trying to guess we'd have to ask, and the other person has to answer no matter what"

"No matter what?" He asks.

"No. matter. what" You reiterate gravely.

"You go first then" He says nodding at you.

"How old are you?" You began, already grinning like a maniac.

"16" Ao'nung answers. "17 in 2 months, how old are you?"

"14, turning 15 in..." you stopped to count. "6- no, 7 months"

He nods. "Next question"

"How tall are you?"

"8 foot 5"

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Really? Some people say they're 8 feet tall but in reality they're only 7 foot 9"

"How can I be 7 foot 9?" He exclaimed, almost scandalised.

"I dunno, you ask yourself that" You frowned.

"Just ask the next question" He says boredly.

You bite your inner lip in thought, exhaling when you finally think of the next question. "Why do you hang around them?" You found yourself asking instantly. "Those boys, you don't even seem to like them all that well"

That seemed to have ceased the lightheartedness of the situation, silence settling in awkwardly, quickly, like a virus finding a host.

"I dont know why" He tells you quietly. "It's a comfortable choice, they never seem to care about anything except the present, they don't care that I am to be the next Olo'eyktan, that I am to lead our people for the many years to come, if I stick with them maybe I can forget what is to be my fate"

You stay quiet, so does he. It's almost a dizzying experience, to have Ao'nung pour himself out to you like that when 5 days ago all you wanted in life was to rip his head clean off his shoulders, half of you were expecting for him to stand up, laugh in your face for believing such a thing but as time progressed you found that flame dying rapidly.

But he exhaled, making you glance at him. "What about you Forest Girl?"

You snort, grinning. "What about me??"

"Do you have any secrets worth my time?"

"I got no secrets, I'm an open book"

"Surely there must be something you aren't telling me" He pressed. "What's your favorite food?"

"Pizza- well used to"

"What's that?"

"It's sort of like this triangular shaped snack with meat, and cheese, and sauce on it"

"Oh, well alright" He says, all while having no clue what that is. "What's your favorite food now then?"

"I'm torn between melon tree fruit and yovo fruit"

He grinned. "That, I can get behind by"

"Oh!" You exclaimed, snapping your fingers. "What's your favorite colour?"

"Yellow " He answered.

"Really?" You scoffed. "I thought you'd say blue or something"

He gives you a look. "Blue? Why Blue?"

You gesture to him, making him frown. "Why wouldn't you say blue?"

He gives you an insincere laugh. "Very funny Forest Girl" He drawled. "What about you then? What's your favorite colour?"

"Y/F/C" you state, pushing your hair back away from your face.

He half-shrugged, staring at his finger nails. "Yeah, I guessed as much"

You draw a line on your teeth with your tongue. "If you could leave right now, where would you go?"

"Anywhere but here" He replied, standing up as well. "As long as I can get far away from this place as possible"

You watch him as he starts picking up branches on the sand, realizing he just needed to do something with his hands. "This is my home yes, I've never known any place else but I just want to leave, my knowledge only goes as far as riding a skimwing, but I know the ocean will end eventually"

"Then ride an íkran"

"Well I don't know how to, do I?"

"I'll teach you" You offer, leaning against a tree. "If you taught me how to ride an ilu, surely I can teach you how to ride an íkran"

He gives you an incredulous look, tossing the branches into the water. "So you can throw me off 50 feet in the air? no thank you"

"No, I'm serious, do you really want to learn?"

He thinks, almost entertaining the idea. "I would not oppose once the opportunity presents itself"

"The opportunity is practically waving at you, Ao'nung"

"Maybe another day" He says instead, so you decide it was an answer enough.

Whatever stars have aligned, whatever curse was cast on you, the both of you spent about an hour talking about the most aimless things that made even you wonder what kind of sick stunt the universe was trying to pull.

"Stop it! You are throwing me off!" Ao'nung exclaimed trying to stop you from doubling over and laughing.

You wipe the tears collecting at the edge of your eyes, trying to catch your breath. "Just- just say it again-!"

Ao'nung clicks his tongue against his mouth. "I will not, all you'll do is laugh at me!" He protests.

You sit on the rock again, pulling, well, practically forcing him to sit down before he could run away again. "I promise I won't laugh just- just say it again"

He sits back down unceremoniously, no thanks to you. "What is a castrated smurf anyway? Why do I need to tell Neteyam he looks like a castrated smurf? "

"Because you can" You insist, trying to resist your laughter again. "It's a glowing compliment amongst Sky People, trust me"

"Fine" He says, rolling his eyes at you. "I trust you"

You giggled through your nose, a smile breaking on your face as you look at him.

amber meeting aquamarine.

Your eyes trail to the giant purple bruises that littered his face, then to his neck where you had cut him with your dagger, all the millions of white freckles on his face like Eywa had kissed stars onto the afternoon sky.

You blink, so does he, and suddenly you tear away from eachother, you turn away from him, Ao'nung starts rubbing at his nape as you feel silence encapsulate you once more.

"Where did your necklace go?" He asks, almost on cue a wave of coldness washes over your collarbone.

"It snapped off during the fight, I went back for it, tried finding the pieces but with all the sand flying around during it I barely found half" You replied.

Oh great. another thing Ao'nung felt responsible for. "I see" He replies.

So you stand up, looking at everything but him, the trees, the white petals fading into purple then yellow at the very middle, its orange stigmas standing tall, you walk up to it, leaning into it to take a whiff, light, musky, sweet, you found yourself sniffing it again, you hold it by its stem but a bug reveals itself and crawls onto your hand, you flinch and flick your hand away. Ao'nung laughs at you. "It is just a little insect, you cannot be that afraid of it"

"I can feel it's legs all over me, it's gross and weird" you explain before you shudder involuntarily.

He looks at the vines again and plucks a flower before handing it to you. You stare at it warily and he sighs when you did not take it instantly. "I promise there are no bugs on there"

"You might be lying"

"Why would I lie?"

"I don't know, but you could" You state, watching as he rolls his eyes. After a moment of contemplating you decide to take it before you stand up on your toes and you tuck the flower between his ear, landing back to your feet to see an unimpressed Ao'nung staring back at you.

"Oh Jesus do I wish I had a camera" You sighed longingly.

You see him cross his arms over his chest, a ball forming at his temple as he tightened his jaw. "I look like a joke"

"You look pretty"

"I'm not pretty" He said. "I'm hot"

You let out a laugh. "Whatever helps you sleep at night"

"take it off" He whined.

"Nuh-uh, I don't want to"

"You're a child" He declares sanctimoniously.

"Uh-huh" You nod absentmindedly.

"Come on, take this stupid flower out, I don't want it"

"Take it off yourself" You say.

He lets out a disparaging groan and pulls it out of his ear, you were about to prove your point but that was before he places the flower behind your ear instead. Your eyes widen a centimeter and your cheeks flush to a lilac as your hand instinctively reaches up to it, your fingertips barely brushing the tips of the petals.

"There" Ao'nung says, pulling you out of your trance. "Now you look like the joke"

You narrow your eyes at him and walk away towards the water, the bioluminescent creatures making your stomach drop.

"Fuck" you say, making Ao'nung turn around. "Ao'nung how long have we been down here?"

"I know as much as you do Forest Girl" He retaliates.

"We gotta go back"

The sound of the conch shell make your heads snap upwards, towards the hole of cave where the moon was only a ways off from casting it's silvery glow onto the island.

You turn to Ao'nung. "Oh you're so fucked" You laughed.

"Says you" He laughed back, pointing a finger at your face before you slap it away, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head at you for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day before running back to the way you came with you tailing him. Once the two of you reach the water he dives in, barely even making a splash and resurfacing mere seconds later.

"Come on!"

"But my-"

"It'll stay on" He cuts you off mid-sentence, seeming to know what your next words were. So you jump in, paddling alongside him as you tried swimming out of there before he did, eventually you made it out of the structure, swimming upwards like your life depended on it, glancing at Ao'nung every now and then only for you to pick up your pace as he picked up his. You resurface at the same time, he beats you at calling his ilu first while you took a while catching your breath, he saddles his ilu the moment yours arrived, laughing at you as you struggled to get on.

You tell Hinewai to put the pedal to the metal and you finally managed to catch up to him, his eyes widening as he sees you pop up on his peripheral.

"Hurry up!" He tells you.

You let out a disparaging groan. "What do you think I've been doing smart ass??"

He only laughs, pulling his head back before he dives under the water, shooting out moments later, his ilu spinning on the air before landing back onto the water.

Show off.

The pair of you decided to round the island, turning to Ao'nung when you see all the village people crowding the docks, muttering your name, only for him to avoid your eyes.

You hop off your ilu as does he, trudging up the sand as you feel the eyes of every Metkayin trained on you. Parting the crowd was your mother, your father, Neteyam, and Lo'ak, followed by your sisters close behind.

"She's here!" Dad calls out to the people, you couldn't help but frown as he began checking your arms and your face. "She's alright! She's fine"

"My son" Tonowari starts.

"Father, I see you" Ao'nung addressed, placing his hand over his forehead and bringing it to his chest. You cringe subtly and do the same. "I see you, Olo'eyktan"

He geeets the both of you with the same gesture.

"Is it true what they say?" He began as you felt Ao'nung tense up beside you. "That you have brought Lo'ak beyond the reef? That you have risked his life?"

You snap your head towards Ao'nung, your face falling only to see him glancing up at his father with a pensive look.

"Yes" He replies without hesitation.

Ronal jumps down the platform only to pull his ear, making him wince. "What were you thinking?! Leading Toruk Makto's son to his death??" She hissed, Ao'nung avoiding her face. "This behavior is beneath you"

Jake takes your shoulder and makes you face him. "Where the hell have you been? I thought I taught you better than to not keep track of the time"

"I know but i-"

"No, no excuses" He snapped, hopping over the platform, you trying to follow him.

"Dad just please-" You insist.

He turns to you. "You'll get to talk when we get back to our pod, now drag your ass back home"

"Toruk Makto please-" says Ao'nung, almost stepping in between you and your father, he meets your father's gaze and he immediately regrets his decision, his eyes flicking towards you only to see pure hatred burning back into his retinas. "I am at fault here" He began again cautiously.

You try and ignore the whispers that reverberated around you, the looks of your brothers practically burning into your scalp. "I brought her with me to apologise for our altercation a couple of days ago, I did not mean to bring her home this late, we were caught up in eachother, we lost track of time, believe me, my intentions with your daughter are pure-"

Jake blinks, you could practically feel his anger radiate off of him. "-i'm sorry what?"

"-Dad, this is not what it looks like" You jump in front of Ao'nung, your eyes wide as the whispers around you only intensified.

Ao'nung nudges you away. "-Please, Toruk Makto do not blame your daughter, she has done nothing wrong"

Ronal walks up to Ao'nung grabbing his chin and tilting it upwards, giving everyone a perfect view of his scar. "She might as well explain what is this then"

Neytiri comes forward, feeling her behind you. "My daughter will not answer to you"

"We've discussed this alright? We've buried the hatchet, it's done and dealt with" Jake explained hurriedly, eyes switching from you, to the Tsahík, to you, to Ao'nung.

"While I commend you for trying to make peace on your own terms I cannot forget the fact that you have put Lo'ak in grave peril and returned Y/N home past eclipse"

"No," says Lo'ak. "Going past the reef was not Ao'nung's fault, it was my idea, he tried to talk me out of it, really "

"Lo'ak-" Neytiri started.

"I'm sorry" was all your twin could say before he too hopped up on the platform.

You begin your walk of shame, plodding through the woven pathways as Lo'ak appeared by your side, donning the same downcast expression as you did, your eyes meet, sending eachother whatever was the most microscopic amounts of optimism left in you before your father caught up to you.

"Dad, you told us to make friends with these kids that's all I was trying to-"

"-I don't wanna hear it"

"-Dad" You start, trying to back Lo'ak up, all while having no desire to lengthen this argument any further, but he dosen't even look at you.

"You have brought shame to this family" He tells Lo'ak, who simply stood beside you with an impassive expression.

"Can I go now?" He wonders impatiently.

"Anymore trouble I jerk a knot in your tail, you read me?"

"Yes sir, Lima Charlie" He replies before walking off, you pivot your heel and follow him, trying to put as much distance away from you and your parents as possible only to have Jake pull you back and face them.

"That's strike 2 for you young lady" He says, showing you two fingers to make himself clear. "Look, I dunno what went in your head when you decided to follow Ao'nung when your brother had been missing for hours-"

"-I didn't know he was missing"

He opens his mouth to say something but closes it quickly and sighs. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph" He exclaimed, raking his face with dread. "You're still a kid, I don't want you making decisions that'll make your life go up in smoke, you know that right?"

You nod, your jaw still tight.

"I gotta worry about Lo'ak, I gotta worry about Tuk, I gotta worry about Kiri, do I gotta worry about you too?" He ejaculated, throwing his hand in the air.

You shake your head. "No sir"

"Good" He tells you, his eyes darting up to the flower stuck to your ears and you couldn't help but notice it. "Then we're done here, am I understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir" You nod, your feet already itching to get away.

"Good, get out of here" He nods towards the docks and you didn't telling twice. Pushing past the villagers, you hop down the platform, knowing full well who you were going to find next.

And you do find him, walking alone on the beach, almost sulking.

You didn't exactly try and mask the sound of your footsteps and so he sees you about 5 feet away from him.

His eyes light up. "What are you-"

You slam your hands onto his chest, sending him staggering back several steps away from you.

"Are you fucking brain dead? " You seethe, narrowing your eyes at him, pushing at him again and watching him collect himself. "Are you crazy? "

"I don't think I am, no" He exclaimed, watching you go on a rampage.

"What the fuck is wrong with you??? Trying to embarrass me in front of your whole goddamn clan?? Is that what you wanted this whole time? Try- try and get me to lower my guard down? Make me laugh? Make me reveal my secrets? so that in the end I can make you look like a fucking hero???" You yell at him, bashing your fists against his chest.

"Stop it-!" He shouts, trying to grab your fists.

You push him away. "No! No! Let me go!"

"I will when you calm down-!"

You yanked your arms away from his grasp, pointing a slender finger at his face, looking at him with unbridled rage and fury. "Is that what you wanted? To make a fool out of me??"

He swallows, hesitating. "No-"

"Do you know what you did??" You ask him, your voice cracking. "Do you know-"

"-No!" Ao'nung shouts. "No! I don't know-!"

"You made me look weak! Like I needed to rely on some man for protection!" You screeched into the sea before whirling towards him.

"I stood up for you! I defended you and this is what I get?? Not even a thank you???" He yelled.

You slapped him across the face, he turns to you, clutching his cheek.

"I never asked you to defend me did i?" You tell him.

"I still did"

"Learn to take a hint next time"

"You should be grateful" He spat.

You hummed, staring at his face. "The next time you raise your tongue against me I won't hesitate to give you a matching set" You say, prodding his bruised cheekbone, hearing him hiss in pain before pulling the flower from behind your ear and throwing it to the sand, you gave him one last look and with that you turn around, marching back to the village.

"I hate you!" He shouts after you.

"Suck my dick!" You yelled back.

[yotenotes]

sasha toca (toh-tsah)

an unlabeled cockroach who uses any pronouns. works as a sous chef and yes he is very tired of hearing "bug in kitchen" comments / jokes about it they can and will tell you to shut up about it. also theyre dating mudbud

[mintjeru]

the taste of tangerines, 9/9 first | previous

open for better quality | no reposts | surprisingly extensive notes under the cut if you're interested ^^;;

Cantonese, also known as Yue, is a dialect of Chinese commonly spoken in southern China and Hong Kong. Although Cantonese and Mandarin are mutually unintelligible, meaning a speaker of one variety would not be able to understand a speaker of the other, both are considered varieties of the same Chinese language. Cantonese is typically associated with the traditional writing system, whereas Mandarin in mainland China is typically associated with the simplified writing system. Cantonese has certain characters, sounds, and slang that are not used in Mandarin as well. A couple of examples of Cantonese in Western media include Evelyn's dialogues with Gong Gong in Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) and Sally Yeh's cover of "Material Girl" in Crazy Rich Asians (2018).

Jyutping (IPA: /jy:tpɪŋ/, sounds like "yoot ping") is a romanization system, a conversion of a language's writing system into the Latin alphabet. In Jyutping, letters represent the phonetic pronunciation and numbers represent the tones (Cantonese has six, compared to Mandarin which has four). You may have noticed a few words with dashes in between two numbers (ex. neoi5-4, IPA: /nɵi/, vowel sequence sounds like "uh-ee" but fast); these are examples of tone sandhi, changes in tonal pronunciation due to context. In isolation, the word would be pronounced with the tone indicated by the first number. When the word appears around certain other words, it will be pronounced with the tone indicated by the second number. These changes are systematic and often reduce articulatory effort.

Just because the letters in Jyutping are the same as the letters in the alphabet in English doesn't mean that the pronunciations are the same. For instance, the "c" in caa1 (IPA: /t͡sa:/, sounds like "tsah" with a slightly extended duration for the "ah") meaning "fork" is pronounced like the sequence "ts" with aspiration, but people whose native languages don't have this sound typically perceive it as "ch."

I could list out descriptions of Cantonese tones, but it might be hard to visualize. In short, they are changes in pitch, like when you pronounce words with intonation or raise your pitch at the end of questions in English. Cantonese has level, rising, and falling tones.

Fun fact: the Cantonese third person singular pronoun keoi5 (佢, IPA: /kɵi/, vowel sequence sounds like "uh-ee" but fast) is both phonetically and orthographically gender-neutral! This means you pronounce the same sequence of sounds and write the same character to refer to he/she/it. The Mandarin third person singular pronoun tā (他, 她, IPA: /ta/, sounds like "tah") distinguishes between masculine and feminine in writing, likely due to Western influence.

[steelycunt]

everyone get up and make some noise for sirius' vivienne westwood two cowboys with their cocks out shirt!! we're losing our minds over here for sirius' vivienne westwood two cowboys with their cocks out shirt!!

[otrtbs]

lowkey vibrating at the thought of a tsh-esque fic!! one of my favorite books and i’m just already so ready to see how/if it progresses? or who the fic would even be containing omg.

omg hii!! yeah hehehe just like,,, idk why i just want art history and marauders 5ever and ever and ever,,, like tbh im thinking after i write the dinner fic,, i'll just abandon every other wip idea and go full in and be an art history marauders writer for the rest of my fandom life literally it's just so preliminary rn (tsah the secret art history <3) it would be jegulus bc i love them sm and james would be the richard papen of it all i guess,,, like he would be the transfer kid into the elite club of art history students and the outsider,,,, and it would be pandalily as well but lily would be the one playing the judey poovey roll-ish,, she's the one who's like "these ppl are crazy maybe u should do coke in a burger king parking lot abt it" but she's not vapid or anything she's dating pandora who is very much in the secret art history cult so she knows how insidious it all is they're all very competitive and secretive and there's this huge print project that they're all working on for the first semester (they're in teams but they're all working against one another and the winner gets to curate the university's next art show) and barty is the nepotism baby "my father is a descendant of knoedler come 2 my house in the countryside and drink whiskey out of dainty teacups",, they do crazy things to prove how INTO art they all are,,, (steal ruins from archeological sites they're working on,,sneaking their own works into prestigious art exhibitions,,, creating a little shop of forgeries "just in case",,, trying to break in museums and slash paintings w meat cleavers a la mary richardson) i want something BIG something BACCHANAL-ESQUE but i haven't gotten that far ,,,, but i also want to write a re-telling of van gogh and gauguin and the yellow house months one day but wolfstar style and regulus would be theo and would send his brother money and fund his painter lifestyle and be his art dealer as best he knew how AND THEN JAMES WOULD BE JOHANNA FOR SIRIUS IYKYK also just really obsessed with art restorationist lily evans and her conservation studio taking on a protégé (mary) and them falling in love over restoring art works but idk that's just a wisp of an idea

[truegreys]

Coming Back Alive

Halo!

Setelah vakum menulis di Tumblr sejak 2019, saya mencoba pindah platform ke https://truegreys.wordpress.com/. Di sana, saya menulis beberapa cerpen di sepanjang tahun 2020. Di tahun 2021, saya tidak lagi menyebarluaskan tulisan saya, sampai akhirnya hari ini, ada yang ‘nyenggol’ saya, memantik api yang dahulu padam karena alasan personal, membuat saya ingin menghidupkan lagi apa yang dahulu mati--atau lebih tepatnya berusaha saya matikan.

Bagi yang semenjak 2011 mengenal saya sebagai Truegrey, kini saya muncul dengan nama saya sendiri. Perkenalkan, saya Sani Asmi. Akun ini url-nya akan tetap Truegrey, namun mulai sekarang akan mulai saya cantumkan nama asli saya. 

Anyway, selain menulis di Tumblr, saya pernah mempublikasi review buku di Jurnal Humaniora UGM. Buku yang saya ulas adalah “Kura-kura Berjanggut” karya Azhari Aiyub pada tahun 2019. Buku tersebut menjadi salah satu kesukaan saya sampai akhirnya saya memutuskan untuk mengulasnya. Tulisan dapat diakses di: https://journal.ugm.ac.id/jurnal-humaniora/article/view/49768/25721 

Silakan bila ingin ‘kepo’, hehe. 

Kembali ke beberapa tahun silam, saya juga pernah ikut sayembara menulis cerpen bersama di dalam buku “Mata Penuh Darah: dua peristiwa, 1966-2033”, Faisal Oddang, dkk terbitan Shira Media. Cerpen yang dimuat di sana berjudul “Sembilan yang Kedelapan” pada tahun 2018. Bukunya dapat dipinjam di iPunas: https://opac.perpusnas.go.id/DetailOpac.aspx?id=1162823#

Terakhir, terima kasih yang amat banyak kepada warga Tumblr yang tetap mengikuti tulisan saya di akun ini. Ke depannya, saya akan coba mengembangkan hal yang saya sukai menjadi sesuatu yang lebih profesional. Wish me luck and....stay tune!!!!!

I’m back, Guysssss!!!!!!!!

Notes: yang ‘menyonggol’ saya adalah orang Tumblr lama yang sudah sukses menjadi menulis #tsah (sebenarnya beliau dari lama tulisannya emang keren), dengan kelas pengmbangan dirinya (Career Class), yang saya ikuti di tahun ini, sukses membuat saya ingin lagi ‘hidup’. Hehe cc @kurniawangunadi​

[populationpensive]

Subarachnoid hemorrhage

Greetings all! I haven't done an informative post for awhile and since I'm in a neuro/surgical ICU, I figured I discuss subarachnoid hemorrhage (SAH), particularly in a critical care context.

A SAH is a type of hemorrhage stroke. Bleeding occurs spontaneously or from a traumatic source within the subarachnoid space. As a quick reminder, the brain has tissue layers creating separate intracranial spaces where blood or CSF can collect. We name these bleeds often based on WHERE they occur.

Therefore, a SUBarachnoid hemorrhage occurs beneath the arachnoid mater but above the pia mater.

Background

Most SAH are spontaneous from a ruptured aneurysm, though around 20% of SAH do not have a defined cause. Less commonly people experience traumatic SAH (tSAH) from a fall or MVC. The management of a spontaneous SAH and tSAH are different.

Most common in patients >40 y/o, with dominance in woman. Most common cause is rupture of an aneurysm, 80% of which are berry aneurysms. Risk factors for aneurysm rupture are hypertension, smoking, hyperlipidemia, atherosclerosis, advanced age, and extreme emotional stress.

Diagnosis and ED Care

Symptoms: classically the "thunderclap" headache or "worst headache of my life" which progresses rapidly over several minutes. This is usually a constant headache that pain meds really can't touch. Patients can also have nausea or vomiting - beware if you see this as it is a sign of increasing intracranial pressures. Can also have photophobia, delirium. They do NOT have a focal neuro deficit.

Have a LOW threshold to scan this patient's head. Diagnosis is obtained from head imaging. Get a non-contrast head CT to identify the presence of intracranial blood. Of note, xanthochromia on LP is also diagnostic; however, this isn't helpful for surgical planning. On a non-contrast CT, blood will appear white.

Surgical & Critical Care Management

Emergency Surgery: At minimum people receive a ventriculostomy to drain the head of blood. Some people with significant swelling require a hemicraniectomy. Below is a general illustration of ventric placement (also called EVD - external ventricular drain).

After immediate drainage (or sometimes before), patients receive a CTA of the head to locate the aneurysm and if surgically repairable, the aneurysm will be coiled the next day in the neuro IR suite. These patients will also receive CT perfusion (at least once, sometimes twice) to check for vasospasm.

SAH precautions: apply to all patients at all times

HOB >30

Strict bedrest

Arterial line for precise BP measurement (you'll find disagreement among critical care providers about this since arterial lines have not been shown to improve patient mortality. However, that study was NOT in a neuro critical care population)

Continued ICP monitoring (via the ventric)

Antibiotics while the drain is in place (usually ancef)

Daily stool softeners to avoid straining with bowel movements

Low lights, quiet environment (no phone, little tv, etc)

Stat head CT for any acute neuro decline

Maintenance of euvolemia (SUPER important as hypovolemia can trigger vasospasm)

Seizure prophylaxis x 7 days (usually keppra 500 mg BID)

Vasospasm prophylaxis x 21 days (nimodipine 60 mg q4h)

No antiplatelets or blood thinners.

No dvt prophylaxis until bleeding has significantly decreased (usually after coiling- surgeon dependent)

Avoid hypercapnia, hyperglycemia, hyperthermia

Aggressive blood pressure control (usually SBP <140)

Sodium goals (patient dependent, higher goal if significant swelling present)

Worth noting that tSAH patients have SOME of these precautions but not all. Nimodipine is not indicated for vasospasm prevention in these patients. I've seen it used in special situations but most commonly not. Depending on size of tSAH, they may not need a ventric or seizure prophylaxis.

Prognosis

Prognosis has improved over the past 2 decades. Outcomes are multifactorial on age, size of bleed, overall health, and presence of rebleed or complication (vasospasm, ischemic stroke) etc. Roughly 1/3 of patients have a good outcome, meaning return to baseline functionality. 1/3 of patients will have a focal neuro deficit, usually due to vasospasm which caused an ischemic infarct. The remaining 1/3 of patients die from SAH.

At presentation you can use the Hunt and Hess Scale to help guide education for families about prognosis. Generally, the poorer the neuro exam at presentation, the worse the prognosis. There has been some criticism that it is observer dependent and distinguishing between Grade I and Grade II is moot. The important thing about this scale is that is does NOT include the CT imaging. I personally have seen HUGE bleeds that one would think would kill the patient but with prompt intervention they have a normal exam and good outcomes.

The most common complication is rebleeding of the aneurysm even if it has been repaired. This is usually due to poor blood pressure control, vasospasm, or head trauma after SAH recovery. Rebleeding is usually bad for most patients.

These patients stay in the ICU for at least 7 days for ICP and neuro monitoring. Some stay more if vasospasm is present. I do not get to interact with patients on neuro step down and don't have the privilege to see them in outpatient clinic. But if comorbidities that contributed to the stroke are well managed and the patient receives the necessary PT/OT and other support services, outcomes are good. It's still a horrible diagnosis to get but it's not as devastating as it used to be.

If you work in neurology/neurosurgery and see these patients in clinic, please reblog and comment. I think a lot of ICU providers (myself included) get jaded with the horrible stuff we see and don't have a good grasp of longer term recovery.

[arcane-apathy]

The Prize of War Name Pronunciation Guide

  If you’ve look at a word/name in The Prize of War and have gone: “How the fuck has Caiside been saying this in her head?” This is for you. My Orcish is a mix of German, Czech, and Polish. But the base pronunciation is German . If you know German or understand the German alphabet, you’re already a step ahead. If you don’t here is a base guide: Orcish Alphabet/Pronunciation. I will update the list as time goes on or if anyone has a certain name/word they’d like to request.

Character Names

Kurakh: koor-ahch 

Mazna: Mahts-nah 

Roldza: Rohld-tsah

Galb: Gahlb

Vela: Vehl-lah

Galta: Gahl-tah

Schelura: Sheh-loor-ah

Maaga: May-gah

Sukkori: Sook-kohree 

[deathsmallcaps]

@boopboopboopbadoop if you’d like to see the rest of them :)

June 2022’s 38th Win A Commission story is Wildwood Dancing, by Juliet Marillier! I’ve adored this story since I was nine, ever since I ‘accidentally’ wandered into the teen section at the library lol. If you’d like to see the first chapter, see the rest of my art, and my notes, please

Wildwood Dancing will take you to another time and indeed another world. For proper pronunciation of names and for details about select Romanian terms, please read this first section. (End of original note by the author)

It is not the full version, as I’ve only included terms that appear in this chapter. Also, to those using screen readers, it is unlikely your readers will pronounce everything as it should be - sorry. There is also a character who speaks without quotation marks or words like ‘said, replied, shouted,’ etc etc. Visually, I’ve made his speech different, but I’m unsure of how to audibly apply this difference without changing the text. If you have any ideas or think it would ultimately be better to post a screen reader friendly option, please let me know.

Also, should I start doing image IDs for my illustrations within the stories? I rarely change a scene described in the story, and I often go into artistic choices within the notes. Is that too inaccessible? Thanks for any feedback! (End of note by me, the following is the pronunciation dictionary for the Romanian terms.)

Braşov A merchant town in central Transylvania. Pronounced Brah-shove

Ciorbǎ Traditional Romanian broth. Pronounced chor-buh

Constanta A trading port on the Black Sea coast. Pronounced Kahn-stahn-tsah

Piscul Dracului Devil’s Peak. Pronounced Pis-kul Drah -koo-looy

Tara Romǎneascǎ A region south of Transylvania, also known as Wallachia. Pronounced Tsah-rah Roh-muh-neeyes-kuh

Taul Ielelor Lake of the Iele. Iele are female spirits who lure folk to their doom. Pronounced Tah-ool YeHeh-lor

Tuicǎ Plum brandy. Pronounce tswee-kuh

Vǎrful cu Negurǎ Storm Heights. Pronounced Vur-fool koo Neh-goo-ruh

Voivode The head of a Transylvanian territory; princeling. Pronounced voh-yeah-vode

Anatolie Ah-nah-toh-yeeah

Bogdana Bohg-dah-nah

Cezar Cheh-zahr

Costi, Costin Koh-tee, Kohs-teen

Dräguta Druh-goo-tsah

Florica Flo-ree-kah

Gogu Goh-goo

Grigori Gree-gohrree

Ileana Eel-leh-ah-nah

Iulia Yoolee-ah

Jena, Jenica Jeh-nah, Jeh-nee-kah (J pronounced like g in mirage)

Marin Mah-reen

Nicolae Nee-koh-lie-eh (lie & sky rhyme)

Paula PowHah

Petru Peh-troo

Salem bin Afazi Sah-lem bin Ah-fah-zee

Sandu Sahn-doo

Stela Stel-ah

Tati, Tatiana Tah-tee, Tah-tee-ahrnah

Teodor The-oh-dor

I’ve heard it said that girls can’t keep secrets. That’s wrong: we’d proved it. We’d kept ours for years and years, ever since we came to live at Piscul Dracului and stumbled on the way into the Other Kingdom. Nobody knew about it—not Father, not our housekeeper, Florica, or her husband, Petru, not Uncle Nicolae or Aunt Bogdana or their son, Cezar. We found the portal when Tati was seven and I was six, and we’d been going out and coming in nearly every month since then: nine whole years of Full Moons. We had plenty of ways to cover our absences, including a bolt on our bedchamber door and the excuse that my sister Paula sometimes walked in her sleep.

I suppose the secret was not completely ours; Gogu knew. But even if frogs could talk, Gogu would never have told. Ever since I’d found him long ago, crouched all by himself in the forest, dazed and hurt, I had known I could trust him more than anyone else in the world.

It was the day of Full Moon. In the bedchamber our gowns and shoes were laid out ready; combs, bags, and hair ornaments were set beside them. Nothing would be touched now, until the household was safely in bed. Fortunately, it was rare for Florica to come up to our room, because it was at the top of a flight of stairs, and stairs made her knees hurt. I did wonder how much Florica knew or guessed. She must have noticed how quiet we always were on the night of Full Moon, and how exhausted we were when we stumbled down to breakfast the next morning. But if she knew, Florica didn’t say a thing.

During the day we kept up our normal activities, trying not to arouse suspicion. Paula helped Florica cook fish ciorbă, while Iulia went out to lend a hand to Petru, who was storing away sacks of grain to last us over the winter. Iulia did not enjoy the hard work of the farm, but at least, she said, it made the time go more quickly. Tati was teaching Stela to read: I had seen the two of them ensconced in a warm corner of the kitchen, making letters in a tray of wet sand.

I sat in the workroom with Father, reconciling a set of orders with a record of payments. I was good with figures and helped him regularly with such tasks. The merchant business in which he was a partner with his cousin, whom we called Uncle Nicolae, kept the two of them much occupied. Gogu sat on the desk, keeping himself to himself, though once or twice I caught his silent voice—the one only I could hear.

You’re upset, Jena.

“Mmm,” I murmured, not wanting to get into a real conversation with him while both Father and his secretary, Gabriel, were in the room. My family didn’t truly believe that I sometimes knew what Gogu was thinking. Even my sisters, who had long ago accepted that this was no ordinary frog, thought that I was deluding myself—putting my own words into the frog’s mouth, perhaps. I knew that was wrong. I’d had Gogu since I was a small girl, and the things he told me definitely didn’t come from my own head.

Don’t be sad. Tonight is Full Moon.

“I can’t help it, Gogu. I’m worried. Now hush, or Father will hear me.”

Father was trying to write a letter. He kept coughing, and in between bouts he struggled to catch his breath. Tomorrow he would be leaving on a journey to the port of Constanţa, in the milder climate of the Black Sea coast. His doctor had told him, sternly, that if he tried to get through another winter at Piscul Dracului in his present ill health, he would be dead before the first buds opened on the oaks. We five sisters would be looking after the place on our own, right through the winter. Of course, Uncle Nicolae would help with the business, and Florica and Petru with the house and farm. It was not so much the extra responsibility that troubled me. Father was away often enough on business and we had coped before, though not for so long. What chilled me was the thought that when we said goodbye in the morning, it might be forever.

At supper we were all quiet. I was thinking about what Father had confided to Tati and me earlier. Up till then, none of us had mentioned the possibility that Father might die of this illness, for to say that aloud would be to put the unthinkable into words. But Father had wanted his eldest daughters to be prepared for whatever might happen. Should he die before any of us girls married and bore a son, he’d explained, both Piscul Dracului and Father’s share of the business would go to Uncle Nicolae, as the closest male relative. We were not to worry. If the worst should occur, Uncle Nicolae would see we were provided for.

Uncle Nicolae’s family home was called Vǎrful cu Negurǎ: Storm Heights. His house was quite grand, set on a hillside and surrounded by birch and pine forest. He ran a prosperous farm and a timber business, as well as the trading ventures that had made him wealthy. When we were little, we had lived in the merchant town of Braşov, and Vǎrful cu Negurǎ had been a place we visited as a special treat. It was hard to say what I had loved best about it: the dark forest, the forbidden lake, or the excitement of playing with our big cousins, who were both boys.

But there was no doubt at all what Father had loved. Next door to Vǎrful cu Negurǎ was Piscul Dracului, Devil’s Peak. Father had first seen the empty, crumbling castle, set on a high spur of rock, when he was only a boy. Our father was an unusual kind of person, and as soon as he clapped eyes on Piscul Dracului he wanted to live there. There’d been nobody to inherit the ruin and the tract of wildwood that went with it; perhaps the many strange tales attached to the place had frightened people away. The owner had died long ago. Florica and Petru had been custodians of the place for years, looking after the empty chambers and eking out a living from the small farm, for they were hardworking, thrifty folk.

Father had waited a long time to achieve his dream. He had worked hard, married, and fathered daughters, bought and sold, scrimped and saved. When he’d set enough silver aside from his merchant ventures, trading in silk carpets and bear skins, spices and fine porcelain, he’d quietly paid a large sum to an influential voivode, gone into partnership with Uncle Nicolae, and moved our family into Piscul Dracului.

I think Mother would have preferred to stay in Braşov, for she feared the tales folk told about the old castle. It looked as if it had grown up out of the forest, with an assortment of bits and pieces sprouting from every corner: tiny turrets, long covered walkways, squat round towers, arches, and flagpoles. The eccentric nobleman who had built it had probably been someone just like Father. People seldom ventured into the forest around Piscul Dracului. There was a lake deep within the wildwood, a place unofficially known as the Deadwash, though its real name was prettier: Tǎul Ielelor, Lake of the Nymphs. Every family had a dark story about the Deadwash. We got ours soon after we moved into the castle. When I was five years old, my cousin Costi—Uncle Nicolae’s eldest son—drowned in Tǎul Ielelor. I was there when it happened. The things folk said about the lake were true.

Before Father became so ill, Tati and I had scarcely given a thought to such weighty matters as what might happen to Piscul Dracului, with no son to inherit our father’s property. My elder sister was a dreamer, and I had a different kind of future in mind for myself: one in which I would work alongside my father, traveling and trading and seeing the world. Marriage and children were secondary in my scheme of things. Now—with Father’s cough ringing in our ears, and his white face regarding us across the supper table—they had become a frightening reality. I remembered Aunt Bogdana saying that sixteen was the ideal age for a young woman to wed. Tati was already in her seventeenth year; I was only one year younger.

Father went off to bed as soon as the meal was over; he’d hardly touched his food. The others disappeared to our bedchamber, but I waited for Florica to bank up the fire in the big stove and for Petru to bolt the front door, and for the two of them to retire to their sleeping quarters. Then it was safe, and I ran up the stairs to our chamber, my worries set aside for now, my heart beating fast with an anticipation that was part joy, part fear. At last it was time.

The long room we sisters shared had four round windows of colored glass: soft violet, blood-red, midnight-blue, beech-green. Beyond them the full moon was sailing up into the night sky. I put Gogu on a shelf to watch as I took off my working dress and put on my dancing gown, a green one that my frog was particularly fond of. Paula was calmly lighting our small lanterns, to be ready for the journey.

With five girls, even the biggest bedchamber can get crowded. As Tati fastened the hooks on my gown, I watched Iulia twirling in front of the mirror. She was thirteen now, and developing the kind of curvaceous figure our mother had had. Her gown was of cobalt silk and she had swept her dark curls up into a circlet of ribbon butterflies. We had become clever, over the years, in our use of the leftovers from Father’s shipments. He was good at what he did, but buying Piscul Dracului had eaten up a lot of his funds and, even in partnership with his wealthy cousin, he was still making up for lost ground. I saw the books every day—he had been unable to conceal from me that finances remained very tight. We sisters had to improvise. We made one new dancing gown anytime a cargo contained a little more of a certain fabric than the buyer had requested. I wore Tati’s hand-me-downs; Paula wore mine. Iulia, with her fuller figure, did rather better, because she could not fit into either Tati’s clothes or mine. All the same, she complained; she would have liked a whole wardrobe of finery. Tati was clever with her needle, and adjusted old things of Mother’s to fit her. Mother was gone. We had lost her when our youngest sister was born. Stela was only five—easy to dress.

Paula had finished lighting the lamps. Now she crouched to bank up the fire in our little stove and ensure its door was safely shut. One year Iulia’s junior, Paula was our scholar. While I was good at figures, she shone in all branches of learning. Our village priest, Father Sandu, came up to Piscul Dracului once a month to provide Paula with private tutoring—I shared in the mathematical part of these lessons—and went home with a bottle of Petru’s finest ţuicǎ in his coat pocket. Most folk believed education of that kind was wasted on girls. But Father had never cared what people thought. Follow your heart was one of his favorite sayings.

“What is it, Jena?” Paula had noticed me staring at her. The heat from the stove had flushed her cheeks pink. Her dark eyes were fixed on me with an assessing look. Tonight she was wearing dove-gray, with her spectacles on a chain around her neck, and her brown curls disciplined into a neat plait.

“You look pretty tonight,” I said. “So do you, Stela.” Stela, our baby, was rosy-cheeked and small, like a little bird, maybe a robin. Her hair, the same ebony as Tati’s, was wispy and soft, and tonight it was tied back with rose-pink ribbons to match the gown Tati had made for her. She was standing by the oak chest, jiggling up and down in excitement.

“What about your hair, Jena?” asked Tati, doing up my last hook. “It’s all over the place.”

“Never mind,” I told her, knowing nobody would be looking at me while she was anywhere near. My elder sister’s gown was a simple one of violet-blue that matched her eyes. Her hair rippled down her back like black silk. Tati didn’t need jewelry or ribbons or any sort of finery. She was as lovely as a perfect wildflower. It always seemed to me a generous fairy must have presided over her christening, for Tati was blessed with the kind of beauty that draws folk’s eyes and opens their minds to dreams.

I didn’t make a big effort with my appearance. When people commented on our family of sisters, Tati was always the beautiful one. If they noticed me at all, they called me sensible or practical. I had bushy hair, brown like Paula’s, which refused to do what I wanted it to, and eyes of a color somewhere between mud and leaf. My figure was a lot more straight-up-and-down than Iulia’s, even though I was two years her elder. The one special thing about my green gown was the pocket I had sewn into it for Gogu, since he needed a safe retreat if he got tired or upset. Tonight the only ornament I carried was the frog himself, sitting on my shoulder. You look lovely, Jena. Like a forest pool on a summer’s day.

Tati darted across to make sure our door was bolted. Then, by the shifting light of the lanterns, we moved to the most shadowy corner of the chamber: the place where we had once sat playing games by candlelight and made the most astonishing discovery of our lives.

We dragged out the heavy oak chest from against the wall and set our lanterns on it so their light was cast into the little alcove where the chest had been, an indentation that wasn’t even big enough to store a folded blanket in.

“Come on,” Iulia urged. “My feet are itching for a dance.”

The first time we had done this, in our earliest days at Piscul Dracului—when I was only six, and Stela was not yet born—Tati and I had been amusing the younger ones by making shadow creatures on the wall: rabbits, dogs, bats. At the moment when all our hands had been raised at once to throw a particular image on the stones, we had found our forest’s hidden world. Whether it had been chance or a gift, we had never been sure.

It made no difference that we had done this over and over. The sense of thrilling strangeness had never gone away. Every Full Moon, our bodies tingled with the magic of it. The lamp shone on the blank wall. One by one, we stretched out our hands, and the lantern light threw the silhouettes onto the stones. One by one, we spoke our names in a breathless whisper:

“Tatiana.”

“Jenica.”

“Iulia.”

“Paula.”

“Stela.”

Between the shadows of our outstretched fingers, a five-pointed star appeared. The portal opened. Instead of a shallow alcove, there was a little archway and a flight of stone steps snaking down, down into the depths of the castle. It was dark, shadow-dark.… The first time it ever happened, back when there were only four of us, we had clutched one another’s hands tightly and crept down, trembling with excitement and terror. For the others the fear had dissipated over the years; I could see no trace of misgiving in any of them now, only shining eyes and eager faces.

I was different. The magic drew me despite myself; I passed through the portal because it seemed to me I must. There were eldritch forces all around, and the only thing sure was that the powers of the wildwood were unpredictable. It was curious: from the first I had felt that without me, my sisters would not be safe in the Other Kingdom.

Lanterns in hand, we made our way down the winding stairway, holding up our long skirts as our shadows danced beside us on the ancient stone walls. It was so deep, it was like going to the bottom of a well. Gogu rode on my shoulder down the twists and turns of the stair, until we came to the long, arched passage at the bottom.

“Hurry up!” urged Iulia, who was at the front of the line.

Our slippers whispered on the stone floor as we glided along under the carved extravagance of the roof. Here, there were enough gargoyles and dragons and strange beasts to decorate the grandest building in all Transylvania. They clung to the corners and crept around the pillars and dripped from the arches, watching us with bright, unwavering eyes. Subterranean mosses crawled over their heads and shoulders, softening their angular forms with little capes of green and gray and brown. The first time we saw this Gallery of Beasts, Tati had whispered, “They’re not real, are they?” and I had whispered back, “Just nod your head to them, and keep on walking.” I had sensed, even then, that respect and courtesy could go a long way to keeping a person safe in a place such as this.

As we passed now, I felt something jump onto my shoulder—the one not occupied by Gogu—and cling there, its needle claws pricking my skin through the soft fabric of the green gown. It was doing its best to look like a frog, rolling up its long tail and bulging its eyes, while casting surreptitious glances at Gogu.

The frog tensed. Interloper.

The little creature poked out a forked tongue, hissing.

“Lights out!” ordered Iulia, and we each covered our lanterns in turn. As our eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness, a pale expanse came into view ahead of us: the mist-wreathed waters of a broad lake, illuminated by the moon. Through the vaporous cloud we could see the bobbing torches of those who were waiting to escort us on the last part of our journey.

“Ooo-oo!” Iulia called in a falling cadence. “Ooo-oo!”

The little boats came, one by one, out of the tendrils of mist—high-prowed and graceful, each shaped in the form of a creature: swan, wyvern, phoenix, wood duck, and salamander. In each stood a figure, propelling the craft by means of a slender pole: push and lift, push and lift. The response to Iulia’s call came in five voices, each different, each as uncanny as the others. Our guides were what they were; the only human creatures in this midnight realm were ourselves.

The boats pulled in to the shore. The boatmen stepped out to help us board. The next part, my frog didn’t like. He began to quiver in fright, a rapid trembling that went right through his body. I was used to this; he did it every time. I held him against my breast and, as I climbed into the boat, I murmured, “It’s all right, Gogu, I’ve got you. We’ll be there soon.”

Tǎul Ielelor: the Deadwash. This was the place where Costi had drowned. Our mother had warned us about it, over and over: we should never go there, for to do so was to risk harm at the hands of the vengeful fairy folk who had robbed us of our cousin. And yet, since the very first time the portal had opened for us, the realm that lay beyond had shown us warmth and kindness, open arms, and welcoming smiles. I was still cautious; I did not have it in me to trust unconditionally. All the same, it was impossible to believe that the person who had drowned our cousin was one of those greeting us on our nocturnal journeys.

The folk of the Other Kingdom had their own name for this expanse of shining water—at Full Moon, they called it the Bright Between. The lake waters spanned the distance between their world and ours. Once we set foot in their boats, we were caught in the magic of their realm.

Time and distance were not what they seemed in the Other Kingdom. It was a long walk from Piscul Dracului to the Deadwash in our world—an expedition. Gogu and I had made that forbidden trip often, for the lake drew us despite ourselves. At Full Moon, the walk to Tǎul Ielelor was far shorter. At Full Moon, everything was different, everything was upside down and back to front. Doors opened that were closed on other days, and those whom the human world feared became friends. The Bright Between was a gateway: not a threat, but a promise.

It was all too easy to lose track of time in the Other Kingdom—to forget where you were and where you had come from. This might be the familiar forest, the same one in which Petru farmed our smallholding, and Uncle Nicolae harvested pines to sell for timber, and Cousin Cezar went out hunting in autumn. It was the same and not the same. When we crossed the Bright Between, we entered a realm that existed at the same time and place as ours, with the same trees and hillsides and rocks. But it was not open to humankind, except for those lucky few who found a portal and its key. And the folk who lived there lived by their own laws, laws not at all like those of the human world. Any aged man or woman with stories to tell knew that. There were tales about men who’d gone through a portal and spent a night among the forest folk, and when they’d come back again, a hundred years had passed, and their wives and children were dead and buried. There were stories about people who had visited the fairy revels and been driven right out of their minds. When they returned to the human world, all they did was wander around the forest in a daze, until they perished from cold or hunger or thirst. There were still more accounts of folk who had gone into the forest and simply disappeared.

So, although we believed such misfortunes would never befall us—for we were constantly assured by the folk of the Other Kingdom that they loved and welcomed us—we had made a set of rules to keep us safe. If anything went wrong, the others were to come to Tati or me immediately: they were to do as we told them, without question. There was no eating or drinking while we were in the Other Kingdom, except sips from the water bottle one of us always brought from home. There was no leaving the glade where the dancing took place, however tempted we might be to wander off down beguiling pathways into the moonlit forest. We must keep an eye on one another, keep one another safe. And when Tati or I said it was time to go home, everyone must go without argument. Those rules had protected us through nine years of Full Moons. They had become second nature.

The boats swept across the Bright Between. As we passed a certain point, the air filled with a sweet, whispering music. Swarms of small bright creatures that were not quite birds or insects or fairy folk swooped and rose, hovered and dived around us, making a living banner to salute our arrival. Underwater beings swam beside our craft, creatures with large, luminous eyes, long hands, fronded tails, and glowing green-blue skin. Many dwelled in or on Tǎul Ielelor: ragged swimmers resembling weedy plants, their gaze turned always up, up to the surface; the beguiling pale figures of the Iele, from whom the lake got its name, reaching out graceful white arms from bank or islet or overhanging willow. Should an unwary man from our world be passing, they would seek to entice him from his path forever. As we neared the opposite shore, an assortment of tiny folk rowed out from the miniature islands to join us, in a bobbing flotilla of boats made from nutshells and dried leaves and the discarded carapaces of beetles. We reached the far shore, and my escort—who was three feet high and almost as wide, with a scarlet beard down to his boot tops—handed me out. He made a low bow.

“Thank you,” I said as the gargoyle made a flying leap from my shoulder, then scampered off into the undergrowth.

“Delighted to be of service, Mistress Jenica. I’ll expect you to return the favor, mind.”

“You shall have the first dance, of course, Master Anatolie,” I told him.

The dwarf grinned, revealing a set of jeweled studs in his front teeth. “I’ll match you step for step, young lady. You’ll find me a more satisfactory partner than that slippery green friend of yours. He’s shaking like a jelly—wouldn’t know a jig if it jumped up and bit him.”

Gogu stopped shivering instantly. I could feel bunched-up irritation in every part of him.

“You’ve upset him,” I said. “Frogs have feelings, too, you know.”

The dwarf bowed again. “No offense,” he said, his eyes on Gogu. “It should be an interesting night. We’ve got visitors. Night People from the forests of the east.”

A bolt of horror shot through me and I stopped walking. Ahead of us, my sisters and their assorted escorts were disappearing along the broad, leaf-carpeted track that led away under tall trees, following the sweet call of a flute. The branches were festooned with colored lights shaped like birds and beetles and flowers. “Night People?” I echoed, and heard the tremor in my voice. Fragments of dark stories crept into my mind: tales of blood and violence, of evil deeds and terrible retribution.

“Nothing to worry about,” said Anatolie offhand.

“Yes, it is!” I protested. “Florica, who works for us, says they come at night and bite people in their beds. She says the only thing they drink is human blood.” My sisters were too far ahead to be called back.

“This would be the same Florica who said all dwarves were liars and thieves?” Anatolie asked, feet planted apart and hands on hips. His cloak was ankle length and lined with what appeared to be bear skin.

“Well, yes,” I said.

“The same Florica who told you not to go too close to the Deadwash or you’d be scooped up in the magic fishing net of Drǎguţa, the witch of the wood?”

“Yes, but … but Night People, everyone says—” I stopped myself. Anatolie was right. If I had never met one, it was unfair to judge on the basis of stories.

“You and your sisters are quite safe here,” the dwarf said as we started walking again. “Hasn’t the forest queen herself allowed you to visit her revels these nine years of Full Moons? Believe me, if her protection did not stretch out over the five of you, you would not be here now.”

“I don’t like the sound of that at all,” I said, wondering whether he meant we would have met the same fate as the foolish folk in the stories: dead, mad, or vanished.

“The Night People will not touch you while Ileana is queen of the wildwood,” Anatolie said. “You have my word.”

“Thank you,” I said, but I was full of doubt. I could not remember hearing a single good thing about the Night People, and I had no wish to meet even one of them. They’d never been to Dancing Glade before; at least, not when we were there. I thought about garlic, and silver crosses, and everything else folk used to keep such dangerous forces at bay. I hadn’t brought a thing to protect myself or my sisters.

When we reached the glade, the festivities were in full swing. A circle of autumn-clad trees sheltered the grassy sward, their branches hung with still more lanterns. These cast a warm light over the brightly clad revelers, whose gowns and masks, robes and jewels filled the open space with a swirling mass of color. Above them, creatures performed aerial dances of their own, some borne on delicate, diaphanous wings, some on leathery, creaking membranes. Some of the guests were tall enough to bump their heads on the lanterns; some were so tiny, one had to take care not to step on them. I saw my gargoyle perched on the branch of a holly bush, waving its paws in time with the music and beaming beatifically.

The musicians sat on a raised platform at the far end, under the biggest oak. The instruments were the same as the ones in the village band—flute, drum, goat-pipes, fiddle—and yet they were not quite the same. Each possessed a strangeness that set it apart. What ordinary drum cries out poetry when beaten? What flute plays three tunes at once, each blending perfectly with the others? As for the goat-pipes, they had something of the voice of the creature whose skin had provided their air bag, plaintive and piercing. The fiddle soared like a lark.

The sound of this band was intoxicating to the ears, the kind of felicitous blend a village musician aspires to and may achieve once in a lifetime. It made feet move faster, pulses race, faces flush. It set hearts thumping and coaxed smiles from the most somber mouths. It was a music we would keep on hearing in our dreams, days after Full Moon was over and we were gone from the Other Kingdom.

Iulia was already out there, dark hair flying, her face wreathed in smiles. Tati danced more sedately, her hand in that of tall Grigori, an imposing figure with long, twisted dark hair. It was said he was a kinsman of Drǎguţa, the witch of the wood.

Paula was not dancing, but had gone straight to her usual group of friends, a clutch of witches, astronomers, and soothsayers clad in long, raggedy robes and swathing, vaporous cloaks. All wore hats—I saw tall pointed structures decorated with stars, and scholarly felt caps, and here and there a mysterious shadowy hood. They were gathered around a table under the trees, deep in debate as always, their arguments fueled by a continuous supply of ţuicǎ. Paula was seated among them, waving her hands about as she expounded some theory.

Stela was with the smallest folk, down near the musicians. There was a double ring of them, weaving in and out and around about in a dance of their own. Some had wings, some horns, some feathers, and some shining, jewel-bright scales. They were chattering like a mob of little birds as they pranced to and fro, and still managing to get every step perfect. We’d all started here; as we grew older, we had been welcomed by different folk, collected by different ferrymen, and permitted to mix more widely. Dancing Glade had its own set of rules.

“Hello, Jena!” my little sister called, waving wildly. Then she plunged back into the circle.

The pattern of the night was always the same. The revels would begin with chain dances, circle dances, devised so everyone could join in, the big and small, the clumsy and dainty, side by side. We sisters had been part of this since the first time we came across to the Other Kingdom, when kindly folk of all shapes used to take our small hands and guide us through the steps. We needed no guidance now, for we were skilled in all the dances. The first was always done with our boatmen by our sides—it was their privilege to lead us onto the sward. At some point in the evening the queen of the forest would hold formal court; this was the opportunity for newcomers to be greeted, petitions made, questions asked. Later on, the music would change, and with it the mood of the crowd. That was the time for couples to dance slow measures in each other’s arms, floating in their own small worlds. By then my youngest sisters would be getting tired, and we would all sit under the trees and watch until it was time for the last dance—a grand gathering of the entire crowd, in celebration of Full Moon. Then we would pass across the Bright Between once more, and go home to another month of hard work and dreaming.

The music was making my feet move even before I trod on the sward. I took the dwarf’s hand and we threw ourselves into a jig. The drumbeat made my heart race; the goat-pipes seemed to speak to something deep inside me, saying, Faster, faster! You’re alive! Anatolie gripped my hand tightly as we ran and jumped, as we turned, and swayed, and pointed our toes. Gogu had retreated to the pocket, where he was safe from falling and being trampled by the multitude of stamping, hopping, kicking feet. When the dance was over, I fished him out and set him on my shoulder once more.

“All right?” I whispered.

If you could call being shaken about like a feather duster “all right,” I suppose so.

I was looking around the glade as my heartbeat slowly returned to normal. “Where are the Night People?” I asked Anatolie.

“They will come. Wait until the moon moves higher; wait until you see her between the branches of the tallest oaks. Then you’ll catch a glimpse of them, around the edges.”

“Don’t they dance?”

Anatolie grinned. “I’ll bet you a silver piece to a lump of coal that you can’t get one of them to step up and partner you,” he said. “They stick to their own kind, those black-cloaked streaks of melancholy. They don’t come to enjoy themselves, but to observe—to take stock.”

Out of long habit, because I was the sensible sister, I checked on the others, one by one, to make sure they were safe. Over at the far side of the sward I saw Stela, now playing a chasing game with her bevy of small companions. Those that could fly had a distinct advantage. Iulia was with a circle of young forest men and women. When I had first seen such folk, I had thought of them as fairies—though they were far taller and more elegant than the tiny figures of my childhood imagination—with their garments constructed of leaves and cobwebs, vines, bark, and feathers, and their features unsettlingly not quite human. There was no sign of Paula, but she would still be at the scholars’ table.

There was a ripple of movement. A fanfare rang out and the crowd parted before an imposing figure clad in a gown that seemed fashioned of iridescent gossamer. It was Ileana, the hostess of these celebrations and queen of the forest people, sweeping across Dancing Glade. Folk said every bird of the wildwood had given one feather to make up her crown, which rose from her head in an exuberant crest. Her golden-haired consort, Marin, was a step behind her. This grand entrance was a feature of every Full Moon’s revels. Walking behind the queen and her partner tonight was a group of folk I had never seen before.

“That’s them,” Anatolie hissed. “Sour-faced individuals, aren’t they?”

I did not think the Night People were sour-faced, just rather sad-looking. They were extremely pale, their skin almost waxen in appearance, their eyes deep set, dark, and intense. All were clad in jet-black. The pair who led them was especially striking. The woman’s lips were narrow and bright crimson in color, whether by nature or artifice I could not tell. Her fingernails had been dyed to match. Both she and the man had bony, aristocratic features: well-defined cheeks and jaws; jutting, arrogant noses; and dark, winged brows. They made a handsome couple—he in billowing shirt, tight trousers, and high boots, she in a formfitting gown whose plunging neckline left little to the imagination.

I spotted Tati, standing in the crowd close by Ileana, her dark hair shining under the colored lights of the glade. The forest queen beckoned; my sister stepped forward and dropped into a low, graceful curtsy. A moment later Tati was being introduced to the new arrivals. I felt a sudden chill. If Ileana singled out anyone for this kind of attention, it was not the little human girls from Piscul Dracului but the most formidable of her own folk, such as the tall Grigori or the most powerful of the soothsayers. I saw the black-booted stranger lift Tati’s hand and kiss it in a cool gesture of greeting. Then the Night People seemed to drift away into the shadows under the trees.

Ileana and Marin were not the real power in the Other Kingdom. They presided over the revels and sorted out minor disputes between the forest folk. They made sure the daily life of the wildwood went on in its usual pattern. The folk of the Other Kingdom were often less than forthcoming when questioned about their realm and its rules, but Paula had picked up a great deal at the scholars’ table. We knew that the one who was the heart of it all—the one who held the ancient secrets and wove the powerful magic—was Drǎguţa, the witch of the wood. Drǎguţa had been in the forest since before the castle of Piscul Dracului sprang to life in the imagination of the eccentric voivode who built it. She had dwelt in the depths of the woods since these great oaks were mere sprouting acorns. Drǎguţa did not come to Full Moon dancing. She stayed in her lair, somewhere out in the wildest and least accessible part of the woods. If folk needed to ask her something, they had to go and find her, for she wouldn’t come to them.

Once, I had questioned whether Drǎguţa really existed at all. Only once. A chorus of horrified gasps and hisses had greeted my doubt—“Don’t say that!” “Shh.”—as if the witch were everywhere, watching and listening. Drǎguţa was real, all right, and folk’s fear of her was real fear. In our world, Florica spoke her name in a trembling whisper, and Petru crossed himself every time he heard it. For every boy or girl from our valley who had perished in the forest or drowned in the lake, there was a story about Drǎguţa and her minions, about hands coming up out of the water to drag the hapless under. For every crucifix the villagers had erected on the outskirts of the Piscul Dracului forest to keep evil spirits at bay, there was a tale about someone who had ventured too far and walked into the witch’s net. Perhaps it was not surprising that our castle had stood empty for so long.

The forest queen had finished introducing folk to her black-clad guests. Calling for the music to start up again, she moved out onto the sward with her hand in Marin’s. I danced with Grigori, whose alarming appearance tended to mask the fact that he was a model of courtesy. I danced with a forest man who had ivy twists for hair, and another clad all in cobwebs. The music wove its way into my blood and made my feet agile and my limbs supple. My head was full of colors and lights: I smiled at nothing in particular and felt that I was beautiful. Only when the earlier dances came to an end and folk stood about the edges of the sward while the band had a rest did I remember that Father was leaving in the morning. Once my mind escaped the lure of the dancing, once my body stopped bending and turning and swaying to the music’s enchantment, I found that I was thinking only of the long winter ahead, and how we would cope without him.

Something of my worry must have shown on my face. Grigori came over to ask what was troubling me. Anatolie offered the opinion that I must be unwell. Gogu showed his own awareness of my unease, snuggling up to my neck, under my hair. It’s all right, Jena. I’m here. It helped that he was close, for I felt suddenly cold and, surrounded as I was by folk making merry, curiously alone.

While we waited for the band to commence the slower, more beguiling music that signaled the start of the couple dances, platters of delicacies appeared: tiny, gaudily hued cakes; creatures fashioned of spun sugar; strange vegetables carved into castles and trees and giants; and mounds of gleaming fruits that in the real world would not appear until next summer. Flasks of ţuicǎ and elderberry wine made the rounds. Little glittering goblets were borne on trays that floated conveniently at waist height.

There was no need to keep watch over my sisters. Tati and I had drummed our rules into the younger ones time after time over the years, and they abided by them without question, even when the music had them in its thrall. The rules helped us remember who we were and where we belonged. Dancing Glade was our sanctuary, our joy, our bright adventure. But we did not belong in the Other Kingdom. We were here as guests, through luck, not entitlement. Besides, as Tati had once pointed out, if you had a party every day, parties would soon become a lot less exciting. We were mortal girls, and every one of us would want a mortal life. For most of us that would mean a husband and children.

I frowned, remembering what Father had told us. To be pushed into marrying early in order to provide an heir for Piscul Dracului would be horrible. It would mean not being able to choose properly. It could mean spending the rest of your life with someone you hated. Our father had married for love; he had made his choice with no regard for what folk expected. I did not think we would have that luxury, not until one of us had produced the required son. I shivered as I gazed out over Dancing Glade. We had been lucky so far. We had had the best of both worlds. I hoped it wasn’t time for our luck to change.

The music struck up again, and the folk of the Other Kingdom began, languidly, to form couples and move out onto the sward. Gogu nudged me with his cold nose and I felt my skin prickle.

Look. Over there, under the oaks.

I looked over to the spot where the Night People had retreated into the shade of the trees some time before. I did not see the dashing, black-booted man or his crimson-lipped partner. But there was somebody else there. His eyes were as dark and deep as theirs. His face was as pale—though this was an ashen pallor, white rather than waxy—but the somber lips were more generous in shape. He was young, perhaps our cousin Cezar’s age. He wore a black coat—high-collared, long-sleeved, and buttoned in front, sweeping down to his ankles. What struck me was his intense stillness. He hardly seemed to blink, he barely seemed to breathe, and yet the eyes were intent, keenly focused as he stared out into the moving throng. I followed his gaze, and there was Tati, moving across the sward to join the dancers.

Now that my sister had turned sixteen, it seemed that Ileana had granted her permission to participate in these far more grown-up dances. Tati was hand in hand with a big, blunt-faced figure: the troll, Sten. Her cheeks were flushed with delicate rose. Her hair, stirred by the dancing, spilled over her shoulders like a dark silken cloak. Her gown was modest in design, yet under the lights of Dancing Glade, its plain cut emphasized her perfect figure. Many eyes were on her.

But these eyes were different. The person in the black coat was looking at my sister as if he were starving. He didn’t need to move a muscle for me to read the hunger on his face, and it chilled me.

As I watched my sister dancing—first with Sten, then with Grigori, then with a young man clad in what looked like butterfly wings—my unease grew stronger. I made a decision. We would need to be up soon after dawn to see Father off. We must bid him farewell with looks of cheerful confidence on our faces. That would be impossible if we were exhausted from a night with no sleep.

“Gogu,” I murmured, “we’re going home early.”

He shifted on my shoulder, bunching up his body. I’m ready to go. Don’t worry, Jena. We’ll look after things, you and I.

I gathered up my sisters and we made our formal farewells to Ileana and Marin, thanking them for their hospitality. I cast an eye around, seeking the Night People, but could see none of them, only a group of solemn-looking owls, perched on a branch of the nearest oak.

Ileana said, “Our guests were impressed. Human girls are not bold enough to visit such revels in their part of the world. They asked for your names and commented on your beauty.” Her gaze wandered over all five of us as she spoke, which was unusually polite of her. Almost certainly the compliment referred to Tati, or possibly Iulia. Stela was too young to be called a beauty. As for Paula and me—whichever fairies had offered blessings over our cradles, they had clearly valued brains before looks. We were, in a word, ordinary.

We made our way back to the boats, accompanied by a bevy of folk jostling to hold our lanterns for us. But only the designated boatmen took us across the water, through the mist, back to our own world. In my hands Gogu trembled with terror, and I soothed him with gentle fingers. As my feet touched the home shore, I felt the surge of relief that always filled me at this point. We’re back again. I’ve kept them all safe.

Then it was along the Gallery of Beasts—the gargoyle’s scuttering feet could be heard behind us until he reached his own archway—and up the long, long, winding staircase to the portal.

No shadow play here, just a simple laying of hands on the stone wall. I was last. As my fingers touched the rough surface, the portal swung open, admitting us to the warmth of our bedchamber.

The younger ones were asleep the moment they laid their heads on the pillow. Tati gathered up the gowns they had shed and laid them over the oak chest, while I helped Iulia take the pins out of her hair. By the time I had scrambled wearily into my night robe, she was no more than a gently breathing form under her mounded quilt.

“Jena?” Tati’s voice was quiet as she sat up in bed, brushing out her dark locks.

“Mmm?” I was filling Gogu’s water bowl from the jug, making sure he would be comfortable for what remained of the night. He sat, watching solemnly—a shadowy green form on the little table next to the bed that Tati and I shared.

“Did you see that strange young man?” my sister asked. “The one in the black coat?”

“Mmm-hm. I thought you hadn’t noticed.”

“I wonder who he was,” Tati mused, yawning.

Once the water dish was ordered to Gogu’s liking, I got into bed. The warmth of the goose-feather quilt was bliss over my tired legs. In the quiet of the chamber I could hear little splashing sounds.

“One of them,” I said, my eyelids drooping with tiredness. “Night People. You know what people say about them. They’re dangerous—evil. Dead and alive at the same time, somehow. They can only come out after dark, and they need human blood to survive. I hope Ileana doesn’t let them stay. Did you speak to one of them? I saw Ileana introducing you. What were they like?”

“Cold,” Tati said. “Terribly cold.”

There was a silence, and I thought she had fallen asleep. Then her voice came, a whisper in the shadowy chamber. “I thought the young man looked sad. Sad and … interesting.”

“If you asked Florica,” I said, “she’d tell you that the only thing Night People find ‘interesting’ is sinking their teeth into your neck.”

But my sister was asleep. As the light brightened and birds began a chirping chorus outside, I lay awake, thinking about the winter to come and whether I had been foolish to assure Father that we could cope. After a while, Gogu hopped out of his bath and came to nestle on the pillow by my face, making a big wet patch on the linen. I’m here. Your friend is here. I was still awake when the sun pierced the horizon, somewhere beyond the forest, and down in the kitchen Florica began clattering pots and pans in preparation for breakfast.

Wildwood Dancing Explanation

Isn’t this story so full of imagery? Don’t you feel like you, too, are a part of swirling wonder? I was almost literally enchanted when I read this book. All of Juliet Marillier’s books I’ve read so far (she has a marvelous name) contain such splendor, but this was my first, you know? Also, to be honest, I think this one is aimed at a slightly younger audience, because it has less ‘mature’ themes than her adaptations of the Six Swans fairy tale, Sevenwaters. It also has a cool sequel (different tonally but still enjoyable) called Cybele’s Secret, so let me know what you think if you read them!

The book cover, which I love immensely (it’s very pretty and rich in detail) is unfortunately inaccurate in fashion, for both the area and the time period (medieval). Besides the embroidery patterns, and the hijabs on Tati through Paula, my drawings are actually more accurate! I should've drawn at least one with a vest on over their shirt (that style is called an ie), though - we can just say that the girls didn’t wear any so they wouldn’t hinder movement. The aprons (fotǎs) stay on because they look pretty while twirling. Also, the cover makes it seem as though the book takes place in spring or summer, not autumn.

As the religion of the family is never discussed, and yet they’re considered outsiders who value education, I headcanon that their Dad is Romanian (hence his outfit in the second picture) but their mom was Turkish Muslim. There was a lot of trade between the two countries, and as such their populations swapped a bunch. However, most of the Muslim minority was found in cities/by the coast, so in order to avoid feeling alone, it makes sense the Mom wanted to stay in their old home. But they didn’t, so the girls embroider their clothes with Turkish patterns and wear hijabs, in honor of their religion and their Mom. Stela is a bit too young, to take that aspect of the religion seriously, so she wears a maramǎ, traditional Romanian headwrap, like Florica instead. It’s supposed to only be worn by married women, but do you think a little girl who is surrounded by head-wrapped women will want to be left out? Heck no! So she has a cute little fabric flower on hers, instead of any patterns. Also, frogs are not haram except when it comes to eating them, so it wouldn’t be too weird for Jena to have a pet frog.

Each girl has a different font for her name, when they chant them to open up the portal. I was just goofing off and trying to find ones that fit their personalities and that were still legible XD. Also, for posterity’s sake, each name used to be on a different line, but it was easier and nicer looking to format them in a line, side to side.

Well, I don’t have much else to say in prelude, so let’s talk about the art!

I totally phoned it in for this title picture too. Frankly by the time the other pictures were done I knew this present was going to come to you late, and as I sat down to start on it, I felt like crying. I was very tired and pulled mostly all-nighters that week. So, I just found a font that was similar to my vision, and excused myself. I considered drawing leaves on it digitally, but it looked bad. And that was that. It’s kind of odd that I do titles last, but they’re supposed to be breathers, shrug.

Alrighty, the second picture: I actually did this second to last, lol. Wowed by my success with the Last Unicorn’s scenery picture, I decided to try something similar with the Piscul Dracului. You see, what I put out on paper isn’t often the image or vibes I imagine, partly because of my artistic limitations and because I don’t have any set characteristics in mind. It’s all very annoying. So yeah, to be honest, the castle came out bigger, less craggy and less on the edge of a mountain than in my original vague vision. But I’m satisfied with my work; it has character, perspective, and a mysterious little fox and small woman off to the side ;). I’m hoping to explore this interest in creating scenes and background in later books - I’ve often struggled with scenery and I’m tired of blank spaces.

The third picture was ridiculous, figuring out their positions, clothing patterns, and how to show their personalities. I’m not sure this is what the author imagined when she said they did a five-pointed star together. But I like the result! I wasn’t sure how to draw the portal however lol. Going from left to right, let me describe the sisters and Gogu.

Iulia - it’s clear that she has new clothes (because of her different body shape) and likes to stand out. She has a fan and different type lacework on her fotǎ, instead of a fringe, and a sardonic sort of excitement on her face.

Gogu - he’s an Agile Frog, a species native to much of Southern Europe. He’s just chilling on Jena’s shoulder. I wish I had a chance to draw him larger but I am also tired of drawing frogs.

Jena - I’d like to say her position, as sort of short and behind everybody, showcases her outer personality. She doesn’t mind tooooo much being in the shadows, watching and supporting others, being quiet and dutiful. And yet, she has a septum piercing. As the book goes on, you’ll find that there’s so much more to her ;). I put a brooch on her hijab because I saw one when I looked up Turkish hijab designs and thought it looked cool. She has the most obviously-a-flower-designs because she has the deepest connection with the forest ;). Find out for yourself, I dare you.

Stela - she’s just happy to be doing fun stuff with her big sisters. I’m sure you would know nothing about that ;). Like I said, Stela is wearing a marumǎ, not a hijab, but is otherwise dressed very similarly to her sisters. I adore the little tassels on her sleeves.

Tati - She ended up a bit tall, whoops. And when I started inking, her nose changed :(. But I love her all the same (it helps that she has such a simple pattern all over her outfit lol). She’s looking over everyone, but she isn’t really watching; you can kind of tell her head is already up in the clouds.

Paula - It feels kind of mean but we don’t ever get a good look at her. Maybe you should check out Cybele’s Secret, where she is the main character. Hint hint. Anywho, she's watching the portal open - Paula loves to study and Know things. You can’t tell me that even as a young girl, Paula wouldn’t have been questioning the phenomena.

The fourth picture was kind of a stinker to ink, but it was fun to draw! I meant to make it look more crowded, and to have a blank space around Jena (I absent-mindedly traced it ugh), but this time I tried to be respectful of my time, lol. I drew the werewolf first, in Adam’s outfit from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, in homage to my original vision for my Beast (look in your sister’s second volume). Then, I drew a big orc lady, because I thought she looked cool (she has a crush on the werewolf but he hasn’t a clue), then the dwarf (she’s what I think Cheery Littlebottom from Discworld would look like), and so on and on. I goofed off and drew the head of Garnet (from Steven Universe) at the bottom center, a couple characters described in the actual story (like Mr. Leafhair), and then the Animorphs in Andalite and bird form on the bottom right (Please check Animorphs out).

I really thought I would enjoy drawing this Jena more, but it was actually a pretty neutral experience. I added her design to this picture first, because it was big and I could reference it. I also decided to give her hooded eyes and the septum piercing while adding details, because I need practice for the first and just thought it was a cool quirk for the second. Gogu is again chilling on her shoulder. I originally meant to have his whole body sit comfortably upon her shoulder, but I wanted to draw him big. Also, while all Muslims are traditionally not supposed to show hair to mahram (non-family members), the average Muslim person would not shame another if person 2 had been dancing or doing a lot of physical activity and some hair came loose. So I did that to show that my girl has been MOVING, and showed some escaped bits of hair on the other sisters in the following picture. Also, it allowed me to show Jena’s beautifully curly hair. (Below is my initial sketch)

The last picture was the most fun, actually. The perspective for the steps was annoying, and I don’t think it’s perfect, but all the same I like how it turned out, especially since my original plan was to draw a straight one. I’m glad I challenged myself and drew a spiral one instead :D. Now, let’s go down the staircase.

Iulia is in the lead - she’s tired and self-important. So, I only show her fotǎ and foot XD.

The little winged creature and its porch - literally a last minute addition. I thought the space looked too empty.

Tati is carrying a sleeping Stela - while I think it would make more sense for Jena to carry Stela most times, I needed Jena to be free, and maybe they take turns. I really like how Tati’s face turned out in this one, also, you know if Stela’s leg was swinging free like that, she would keep accidentally kicking the back of poor Tati’s thigh, lol. I like how the clothes' wrinkles turned out in this picture. I just really hope it’s clear who is who, what with how Stela is entwined with Tati’s right arm.

Next half, Jena and Gogu: I wasn't sure what to do with her right arm but it turned out alright. Gogu is limp and tired from a long night of Being Jostled. I adore Jena’s face - it’s concerned-but-also- -amused. She’s just checking to see if Paula is there, hence the ‘OK?’ hand signal. Don’t come at me about the historical inaccuracy, at least I corrected the fashion XD.

The little gargoyle going up his own stairs; I drew him in the moist detail first. He’s the little guy who hitched a ride on Jena’s other shoulder. I originally wanted to draw him more similar

Lastly, poor Paula. I could totally see her being the last to leave, asking people a kajillion questions and observing each aspect of the night for just one last clue, some little detail that answers her queries. ANd as such, she has to run up the stairs to catch up with her sisters! That’s why shes so dramatically behind Jena and has to hold up a thumb to indicate that she’s alright. Also, that part is historically accurate :p - Roman emperors did it to indicate approval or to say ‘good’ a thousand or so years before this book is set.

Below are links to my takes on the 12 Dancing Princesses and the Frog Princess, which are more or less partial inspirations for the book :).

(The Twelve Dancing Princesses) (The Frog Princess)

[lovegusxo]

just got my diagnosis. apparently i have MCS (main character syndrome) and TSAH (too smart and hot).