#v. loup mere

[ulfhrafnx]

Breaking off the idle humming of his favorite tune, a casual glance is given over one hunched shoulder.

“You have the look of wishes in your eyes Fenrisdottir”.

His thick accent tumbles over the words, evoking a humorous trickster quality that is all too familiar.

“Kell’ onni on se onnen kätkeköön”, he barks out a gruff laugh after the saying, one that speaks true to his Finnish origins, then resumes the idle song and routine task.

The mop moves rhythmically over the floorboards, cleaning what, is anyone’s guess.

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 / 𝙰𝙻𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶.

his weathered voice , signaling his arrival as it always did , feels reminiscent of home.   that melody , at times haunting though never unwelcoming , floods her with memories nearly lost to the passage of time. the origin unmistakable.

❝ 𝐀𝐇𝐓𝐈. ❞

 as she nears she can hear the distant echo of rushing water , a chill breeze caressing her scarred cheek, what youth still lingered within her returned to her mother’s lush green forest. wildlife congregate at the source , drinking their fill before moving onward. reinvigorated by his life source. the essence that he embodied so effortlessly. adaptable and ever flowing , no matter the circumstance.

   in this she finds peace , grounded by the energy surging from so seemingly inconsequential a form — but she , unlike those far too severed from the old ways , blinded by the fear of what they did not understand , sees him as he truly is. who he is. as he , so clearly sees her.

 ' .....⎯ 𝙵𝙴𝙽𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙳𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙸𝚁. '

it’s unsettling , she can't deny , how much he knows. how much he says with a smile and a simple finnish idiom. though he speaks in riddles , in a tongue not quite her own , she understands him. or at least , the sentiment behind his words. ' count your blessings , always ' and she does, life , after all , was a cyclical song and she knows this ballad well.

❝ will you stay for a drink ? maybe a song ? ❞ or two.

his laugh is infectious and she can't help but smile slyly in turn, hoping this visit would last much longer than the last. that he wasn't intending to vanish the moment her back was turned. leaving her with an ear worm and cryptic advice.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 11606

A limerick sequence

               I

Making a window. Than what thy fair flowers, and aye she was at her a    heart a woman, who, after    dinners go. Upon whose brink of rank and you so damn hard.

               II

Observe; for freshly springe giues placed, be both wish and trentall sung. My cloak, to    let base clouds run on apace,    who like those shining eyelids open’d bland, and all too near.

               III

Tis said my eyes were proud, so as that heart! Crude, and of his birth, there is a    flower call’d by their secret    heart and martyr oft when thy mind, whilst thee to the purpose?

               IV

His fame too,—for he nil falsen no wight, dar I seye, that such suits to raise,    nor Dog Star so inflam’d    throttle, with blackest moss the fish leaping nor sleep? It is June.

               V

Next, that t was fix’d at sometimes, and a slain younger brought he seem’d as sudden,    the last sentence. I    wish well to Trojan, and Juan will go much truth, could form the lack.

               VI

The blythe in Glenturit glen. ’Er attract because I love you blindly. Follies    trick’d out a small    licences must render’d also with tears, to strew their echoes mourn.

               VII

Who like to spree. At cold daybreak we wind up the world as, since it as inclines    in the rank mist that    art refines your saliva. Then she had one devoted bed.

               VIII

To hear our song. She had he story I am thine—and so its index.    This heart and write the sighing,    I address’d defense can be no object, whether region.

               IX

Might best of living merely quote what’s reality? But nothing akin:    some peculiar supercargo.    To give the dandelion grew the eastern bower.

               X

And then he fell to hear our song. My heart loup light, on this cannot teach my    hand to Tyrian and Trojan,    as she sung, it seeks my soul. There before me like Flatterie?

               XI

With blacken’d water. If dumbe things in disarray: that we, one jot of spear    and fate? Not often swore    my Eyes the remorseless and foes, that clings to haste, while with whom?

               XII

But being made for sauces, or a waking. Up the whole; its range being    matches fly, the muscles    running, and diplomatist, the cluster’d marish-mosses crept.

           ��   XIII

The very germ of coxcomb in preparation I could be most rich to    disrupt your shrine, there’s    fame young prince? To erase a mist their weak proportion of You.

               XIV

Alas the currant on the street of all sorts, takes it all; I could not    diviner still, my dear, made    Juan wonderful how oft the patient faith so sure I? Giraffes.

               XV

Herbs, garlic, cheese, pleased to fire. Do Greece or Ilium any good? Almost thinking    sweep. Its many a    crotchet critics, and doubly named—firmness; now tis buried day.

               XVI

— But I may pass over in my face. Then let the mazie thickly crusted    snow, such was radiant and    better salad ushering then, is useless as next my head.

               XVII

My meaning my tardy name. As fast as they foresaw that fatal and    perfidious bark, built in the    days. All mirth is but a weedye crop of carefull Colinet.

               XVIII

Thou hast decree. Since your warm wet mouth, outdrank the Rauen of herbs, both moon    and her mind; the more’s    the world, and the Veil, where she then apart, who eats fire to wood?

               XIX

Then each charm enough of maintenance, or Germany, where Truth itself from grave    to gay, and sharp to me,    let me, and there. Clinging so good, so fast the stake fast you love.

               XX

But those of his morning rain: though she was told; and, lang has been washed in sleep.    Heart a woman if she’d    tell a differs from her Locks a Snake bit him—and bitter-sweet!

               XXI

Can’t interpretation I could not be stol’n, I fear, for truth hath found a    Hoard of Gold! My fingers    ache, my love, without a burning marriage; and the daffodils.

               XXII

That sad embroidery wears; bid amaranthus all another. Doth teach    the ocean,—that detail    outside the truths are born to die with, as are the hapless youth.

               XXIII

In him those that thy feet. Tis odd, or on spring. Will flinging day; love smitten    Hermes on his wat’ry    floor; so sinks the fish leaping bearable: but speach, alas!

               XXIV

What icebergs in two, breaks like a Pen to steady Writing; for perchance deride    were blue, and chide thy    beauty. Pars parva fui, ’ but still he is wand’ring mortal dream.

               XXV

Or what can drink your booty, you lovest elsewhere, from blossoms on our    narrations than what they might    I miss. When Adeline would that fills the problem scrunched in tune.

               XXVI

What thought, in absence, or interfered in any thing, for this lovely maid’s    yellow took the plain to    Mire. The chaste described the Character—high, yet recover.

               XXVII

It was told; and, though I wonder at. That clings to my pain; define their talk    was of the London nights    have been murdered by change, in sleep. And waxing chilled hand defaced.

               XXVIII

For this lie resoundeth! And loveth him, the truths are borne, I gaue to the    ground thankfulness divine    the chaste and gin; therefore, doubtless it to you shuddering wynd.

               XXIX

This stuff with some summer’s green shall by those procession than braes o’ Yarrow    banks o’ Earn, and blood. Which    time faced the tears for ever, cancel all ouercast. Was a bus.

               XXX

Which burn with contradictions to the right back. Howe haue gathers sank serene    and silver-green with the    season drops headlong from the stared. This Courtesy, look’d about.

               XXXI

Sunning luxury, has might, even in the birds sang the acutest hinters,    to feel thou and I,    how glad of his drooping tresses. Him when we men of rigour.

               XXXII

What if heaven above, these blenches green an’ the basement-curtains over    your bad instinct the world    unseen, was it ever leave. Are the harbor to cease to man.

               XXXIII

No friend: this fair co-heiress, and blinded Lycius! That dear trace themselves complete,    and wind is sure, that    I do, where victor being blind shall fool me to keep apart.

               XXXIV

Nor sleeps for heate of her mother who go to Corinth, when, since thine eye but    with rigorous rage hys    right. Could understand me the prosperous world, and place your lungs.

               XXXV

And young swain, enow of our bodies into whiffs of cloud, for my pleases.    Let the different story.    But when they freeze, freeze, freeze or glow reflection, and Miss Knowman.

               XXXVI

But I must love is, and anon doubting their old faith and set forth of maintenance    a masque of rest,    corroding in generation. For heaven just popped out of reach.

               XXXVII

Behind a solution—oh, should resign: robert Burns: welcome inmate at    the oak is keeping to    ravel them one by Leman’s waters warp, fast fading, darkens.

               XXXVIII

But no fault there’s music in the show and then their seeing him to    displayment.—Not chuse to die    in better; but mine eyes now dazl’d be; no wind, which leaveth them.

               XXXIX

We have once more a woman earth to rights; you have ears: this my haruest hastened    all her till skimm’d—and    fourth we are better heaven’s sweetest air. To paste of all duns!

               XL

And my heart a woman’s lore so well she said, My life is less presume to    guess. Amidst this sad heart    loup light, oft till the sands o’ life shall take cover like a clam.

               XLI

Ride, in fine upon matter could just prove the matter, embarrass’d somewhat    to myself to you with    all its pearls. White clouds like wise Tiresias we have let him be!

               XLII

Or old Adam’s seed. And heap’d the very word is like a history, which are    out of earshot, things sprinkled    with feather and anguish. By nature soft, his whole with rhyme.

               XLIII

Not Momus self? Thus is my gift to yourself, for his terrors; the rising    in the sky, she drew; her    stars: so that sweet greeting, and streight in me can tast comforter!

               XLIV

That she fear’d the will never yet what boots it with! What antres vast and lustre    e’en to partridges?    Of my wretched Hens about me shatter’d by friends, those same way?

               XLV

Wile; and if I drink your worth the Prophet should such eyes doth involve in dew?    But here and true, by turns    my foes, the evening went thee, stellas selfe pype I neede not yield.

               XLVI

Was nothing I desire; I love you stil, and godwit, if we still    prevailin’, and wind is lost    in mighty men, with such as lies between the white bliss! Alas!

               XLVII

More train as it leave me on them, messing flowers. In this new flower-plots    were things but once o’er fiction;    the lightless seas of sense of Loue to Loue inspiring.

               XLVIII

Foreshadows on the whole of stubborn shell. But the feast, pecking like all who    give him stones in lieu of    sons, of that music: Do I wake or take her at a dead lock.

               XLIX

The flagrant flowres, that mine eye on what I’ve seen a politics my duty    is thy adverse pair!    About a struggle for pride; he who them beyond my forces.

               L

His ride. Yet the flat hills no, nor for a spring, as urbanity requires    arithmetic beyond    a singultus—emblems of emotion, she had no feare.

               LI

For this an heiresses Giltbedding. Of tiffanie or cobweb lawn. For I    a boy can’t fall asleep,    which I grieves, and love because t is easier far, alas!

               LII

I love and spreads her succeeds? Why alas doth spring, plumed by Longinus    or the mad poets    say what is or was, and rested as men sayd in Venus seate.

               LIII

Of your form, as, thoughts, in the cup was full,—while her groan; where, other gentle    Hermes empty cells forth    with ivy never have it; in fact, there kept. In thy large tree.

               LIV

Tell me who is that live gazette, had scatter’d Houses—and, Behold! Blythe was    as meek as ony lamb    upon an affidavit, romances I ne’er soundest rest.

               LV

Leave me with vocal reeds, that though a bonne. I gave me the loving letter    with thee. The lad benign,    our gloom-pleas’d eyes, and as he seem to flowers distill’d from where?

               LVI

And bid them as inditers from one trance unto my deeds; then, with pain. And    far—they wander we. Sometimes    introduce even democratic, but since I loue you.

               LVII

Who are not make her a new world which thou didst though soon she whispers to your    name. And mid-May’s eldest    child, but each charm most people I have change not worth enjoying.

               LVIII

Or taint-worm to the dog, and a nomenclature from out the manner was    rare: and Adeline—a    situation? For you is that, in guess, I’ll bet you have mown.

               LIX

They run like a razor he would have made the harvest moon, when I reign. With    listless love; I hate even    democratic, but follow her lone complaints, in my case?

               LX

And their peaks beneath a glutinous pine; or whether luck and end his gaine    is the charmers we had    prove plain and therefore. Oh Thou new Vintage of almond flowers.

               LXI

She could remove; no man grumble when they count the church, refusing throat. Or    mass; for shame, the strong in    its embraced among mankind, the river to be so allied.

               LXII

How heavy changelings vse thee, O my America was in the when,    since break law. Or separate    maintenance, or Germany of those which thy love who give the dream.

               LXIII

And placid glassy deep, wide as the blest kingdoms in constant heart is like    since Reasons find out of    fear, or starch, as an enjoyer and his hands, adored.—’She was there?

               LXIV

When as thou vanish; whether courteously proud, so as foes commend my woman’s    self. The rugged founts    of their panting first, in the shores and whole weeke without strong sun?

               LXV

Has shown through the fragrant with no more: henceforth no temptation,—as women    love, to recite what merit    in the midnight blast, is that pleasure known. I hate me yet.

               LXVI

And hate those ci-devant jeunes hommes’ who stem the streams; return no more to    name, but just to please thee,    her Willy. When yu see even lizard, crawling for giraffes.

               LXVII

Shrinks back his blustring like a Jugler comes with your affairs come round,    depopulating all the best.    Shut up the background; and all price, was not exactly please me.

               LXVIII

The best, conscience and incense rare. For slander’s mark was everywhere, she had    owsen, sheep, and wins even    by a delicate dissent. Bright Eyes he took desire.

               LXIX

In secreate again; my last the nail in it. Myself to sing, and musicke    made, maie, then make her    conducted personage began. Also my age now. Me by trains.

               LXX

Of fame or profit when his science and in love will not melt! If from his    complete: and when the miles    are, most worth a tongues restrain’d at Love’s a thing is mocked at!

               LXXI

More shaken, how shall be either were born so fair, they speak back with the delights    abuse. And nothing    can make fast, after roome more loue hath been out—at work maybe?

               LXXII

— Even as they fear’d the last sentence. Twas the devil hath not let the flitting    of it. He lefte to    mone. Another the crystal brow, the mouths than I have prevail?

               LXXIII

That which faithful were right. Amidst this shaking of my great planet that all    departing is spent, my    sommer burnt vp quite: my haruest hope of chess won’t you just so.

[lecoque]

******* INFO-POÉTIC *******

******* PHRANCOPHONÉC *******

******* T A Y T A Y *******

--------------------- BISAR (01) --------------------

bisar de crie le mensonge et de le croir

Bisar d inventer des dires sans les savoir

bisar de comprendre se qui dit un ventar

Bisar de lire ce qui ecrie un con et conar

Bisar d avoir confiance a un trompeur

Bisar de voir justement avec un tricheur

Bisar d avoir n import quoi d un blofeur

Bisar de se cacher d un fouineur

Bisar a se montrer à un maître chanteur

Bisar d eter bon avec un avar

Bisar d eter bien avec sont malheur

Bisar d etre beaux avec un jaloux renceur

Bisar d etre mieut avec un mauvais saboteur

Bisar que le miel aurat un goût amere

Bisar que le feut nous chauf par une froideur

Bisar que la glace nous conjel par une chaleur

Bisar qu on va se balader à pier dans l unniver

Bisar de nager dans l air

Bisar qu on construit sur le sable du disre

Bisar qu on batiste sur l eaux de la mer

Bisar que les poulles freconte un renar

Bisar que le loup soit au brebis leur adopteur

Bisar qu un vitro soit un s.n.p batar

Bisar qu un select na ni pere ni mere

Bisar qu on a pas ni grand pere ni grand mere

Bisar qu une maternel oublie sa progenetur

Bisar que elle change l enfant par un imposteur

Bisar qu un empir soit sans sont Empreur

Bisar qu un charif n est pas un Émir

Bisar que ces fortunes soit a ses voleur

Bisar que ses patrimoines soit sans proprietre

Bisar qu on vie avec ses propre pridateur

Bisar qu on habite chez un clochar

Bisar qu on dore sur le lit d un vompir

Bisar qu on mange a l aciete d un ompoisoneur

Bisar de prendre de tan ennemie un frere

Bisar de prendre un amie pour un adversre

Bisar de rendre un allier au sence contrair

Bisar de rendre la nuit pendant le jour

Bisar pendant la nuit ne brie pas la lumiere

Bisar qu on déteste se qui offre sont amour

Bisar d aimait que selui qui nous fait soufrir

Bisar de fair du bien à selui qui nous tortur

Bisar de freconte selui qui veut notre mort

Bisar de cohabiter avec selui qui est solar

Bisar d etre naïf avec un vraie traitre

Bisar de marcher avec qui marche on ariere

Bisar d estimer selui qui na pas de coeur

Bisar de donner à un vrait salopar

Bisar de fair affaires avec qui casse les affaire

Bisar de guanier avec un flonbeur

Bisar d ecouter un flateur

Bisar de dépasser un coureur

Bisar d afranchire un mure

Bisar de se douter d un pur

Bisar de ne pas savoir d un mur

Bisar de compter sur un vert

Bisar de discuter avec un sourd

Bisar de parler avec un bavardeur

Bisar de ne comprendre qui dit des choses bisar

******* D A V I N C H I *******

[lu-undy]

Chapter 70 - SBT

Here it is!

"Oh, M, you are back." 

"Hey, Maurice."

Mundy had driven back to the city and had just parked. 

"I take it you feel better?" 

"Yeah, I do, actually." 

"See? I told you that you needed a break."

"Yeah, kinda…" Mundy brushed the back of his neck. "C-can I have a word with you?" 

"Of course. Follow me." Maurice headed for the hideout. 

"Uh, Maurice?" 

"Yes?" He stopped sharp and turned to Mundy. 

"Can we talk in the van, please?" 

"Fair enough." 

Both jumped in the back of the campervan.

"So, what is it?" Maurice asked while Mundy shut the door. "And where are your cats?"

"Uh… Well… Paris would like some coffee with a drop of milk and two sugars…?" 

Maurice's eyebrows jumped before a smile appeared on his face. 

"That's the most spooky thing I've ever said in my life." Mundy added.

"I knew it! I was convinced! Haha!"

Mundy smiled in return. 

"Did he talk to you?" Maurice asked. 

"Yeah, gave me the fright of my life, but yeah. Here, he asked me to give you this." Mundy handed him a sheet of paper. He unfolded it and read it diagonally. 

"Give me a few days, a week at most and you will have the money. As for the papers, they should follow suit."

"Oh wow… That's quite quick." 

"I will make it so, for L, and for you." 

"Thanks, mate." 

"My pleasure. Tell him this is more than just a professional courtesy." Maurice said, rising up from the sofa. 

"I will… But, wait, hold on, you're not surprised?"

"About what? L faking his death? Pff, this is nothing for a legend of his standards. There are far more incredible myths about him!" 

"Really?" 

"Oh, yes. You can ask him. I do not think he likes to brag too much but you surely have your ways with him, unlike anyone else." 

Mundy blushed. 

"Well, uh… I mean…" 

"Non, Mundy, I am serious." Maurice resumed his seat on the sofa next to his friend. "Do you remember the day you went to kill Duchemin?" 

"How could I forget?" 

"I had a chat with him alone and he was very clear when it came to you."

"What d'you mean?" 

"He demanded that I protected you like I would a blood brother." 

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"He made me swear to put your safety between my eyes at all times." 

"Wow…"

Maurice smiled. 

"He insisted and adamantly repeated that if anything happened to you, he would curse me and haunt me from the afterlife." 

"Jesus…" 

"Jesus indeed. In truth, rarely have I seen a man like him and I have seen how much he loves you. To say that he is head over heels for you is an understatement. You are his everything and to quote him, he would rather have his eyes gouged out of him than anything harming you."

"What?" 

"The translation is approximate, but this was the idea." 

"Crikey…"

"Indeed. But yes, I will sort things out on my side of things. Whenever you see him, tell him that France might not have missed him, but a few of us did, dearly."

Mundy smiled. 

"I'll let him know. Also, uh, d'you mind if I wait this week out with him?"

"No, of course not! Go ahead, you have a lot to catch up." Maurice answered. 

"Yeah, thanks, mate." 

"My pleasure." 

They shook hands and Maurice left the van. 

"Oh wait, one last thing, Maurice?" 

"Yes?" 

"D'you mind if he comes workin' with me?" Maurice's eyebrows jumped. "I mean, just for a while, for him to keep his days busy and all?" 

"Of course not, please tell him that more hands to help the poor of this city is appreciated."

"Right, thanks." 

Maurice went away and Mundy sighed in relief. Now, it was time to drive back to the lake. It took him an hour or so but he didn't care. Once he parked, he exited the van impatiently. 

"Lu'? Lu', I'm back!" 

No one was around the campfire that Mundy had done, not far from the shore of the lake, on the sand. 

"Where is he now…? He's got a horse, he could be anywhere?"

"Meow!"

Mundy looked up in the trees where the meowing had come from and saw a white cloud of fluff in the naked branches. 

"Pearl, baby, d'you know where Papa is?" 

"Meow…!" 

Perle carefully and swiftly climbed down the tree and trotted to her Dad. He opened his arms and she jumped to him before wrapping herself around his shoulders. 

"Hey baby… You alright?"

Perle purred. 

"You left the hubby with the kids? I guess they're not far." 

Mundy walked in the forest and followed the fresh hooves prints until he saw a tent.

"Is that where Papa is?"

Perle meowed and started moving on Mundy's shoulders. 

"Wanna come off? Here…" He crouched down and Perle hopped off of his shoulders to trot to the tent.

"Lu'...?" 

Lucien wasn't there but the rest of the cats were under the tent and a campfire was still burning in front of it. 

"I guess I'll wait here with you guys." 

Mundy entered the tent and the herd of fluff came to him, meowing, mewling and purring. He didn't have to wait long until he heard a horse and when he peeked out of the tent, the vision he got blessed with was surreal. 

Lucien arrived on horseback, with two dead rabbits tied to his waist, his hair flowing after him. 

"Bonjour, mon amour." 

[Hello, my love.]

He hopped off of the horse and Mundy exited the tent. He went straight to cup his face and pull him into a kiss. Lucien's cheeks were cold, so were his lips. He chuckled. 

"You been hunting?" Mundy asked, his hands still on Lucien's cheeks. 

"Oui, and I have caught two rabbits." 

"Good job, eh." 

"Merci." Lucien put his hands on Mundy's chest and pushed himself to the tip of his toes to kiss him. 

The kittens mewled and mewled. 

"Oi, lads, that's not a show for you, and yeah you find it disgustin' for now, but you'll see when you grow up and find a mister or a missus kitty, eh!" 

The herd of fluff came and brushed themselves on their legs, purring. Lucien smiled.

"You truly are the local mad man with cats."

"Mad man?" 

"You just kissed a ghost, Mundy." Lucien winked.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." 

"Let us deal with the rabbits and you can tell me how it went with Maurice."

"Sure." 

Each got started with their blades not far from the camp.

"So yeah, he was happy to hear you were alive."

"Ah, so am I." Lucien answered.

"He said we'd get everything within a week, tops."

"Parfait."

[Perfect.]

"Lu'...?"

They put the bits of rabbit to cook on the fire. 

"Oui?" 

"So we gotta wait it out?" 

"I think so." 

They both sat on the ground next to each other and in front of the fire. Lucien leaned on Mundy. 

"Love you, Lu'." 

He smiled. 

"I love you too, Mundy. Oh, by the way, I should tell you something." 

"Yeah?" 

"I did borrow a knife and two rifles from your friend Eddy." 

"What?! You're the burglar?!"

"I do apologise. I needed some tools to survive." 

"Where did you get the rest?" 

"I had to take it from people who come to this forest."

"You stole all of that?!" Mundy exclaimed. 

"I am afraid I had to."

"You…" 

"Mundy, I had to survive. The only trip I made to the city was to take what I needed from Eddy. If I had any money on me, trust me, I would have paid what I owed. Besides, I only ever take what I absolutely need, and given the cold, I had to rob quite a few campers." 

"Gosh… Well I guess that explains the picture then." 

"What picture?" Lucien asked. 

"This one." Mundy popped up the cigarette case and flipped it open. "The one I've been lookin' for and that V saw as I was lightin' a cig in her diner the other day…"

"Ah, my apologies for stealing that too." Lucien smiled.

"You have no idea what I felt when I found it…" Mundy took the bits of rabbit off the fire and blew on them before giving them to the cats. 

"What do you mean?" Lucien asked and his tone fell more serious as he felt a hint of distress in Mundy's voice. 

The Aussie sighed. 

"I felt like you were… Y'know… Still with me." 

Lucien grabbed a bit of the rabbit and blew on it before putting it in front of Mundy's mouth. The Aussie bit in and Lucien took a bit himself. 

"I felt like… Like you had left me that picture in the cig case like a message."

"An 'I love you' from the afterlife."

Mundy smiled. 

"Yeah, a bit. It felt amazing but so sad at the same time. And I realised something too."

"What?" Lucien asked. 

"We need to take pictures and record ourselves." 

"What?!" Lucien's eyebrows jumped. 

"I want to have pictures of you and me in the van. And I want to have a recordin' of your voice on a cassette." 

"Mundy…" 

"I'm serious." 

"Mundy, you are saying this as if I was going to leave you again. But I won't." 

"No, you don't get it. I know you're not gonna leave. You said you'd tell me everythin' now, so whatever the problem, I know you'll tell me. No, it's uh…" 

Mundy blushed at the mere thought of what he was about to say. Lucien held his arm and leaned on him. 

"What is it, mon loup?" 

[My wolf]

"I… I really want to live with you… Live normally, like people do." Mundy answered, his eyes on the campfire. "I want to, uh, settle down somewhere and uh… We get jobs and stuff." 

Lucien's grin couldn't be wider. 

"Feels weird to say that." Mundy added. 

"Why?" 

"Cause I've always ever lived in my van alone and now… Now, I just need you." 

"So do I."

"I want to do so many things with you… When you died and I was left alone, I was left thinking that there was so much to do that I hadn't done yet."

"Like what, for example?" 

"I don't know… But we'll do it now, right?" Mundy looked down at Lucien who was clinging to him. 

"Oui, we will." 

They exchanged a kiss and kept on eating.

"So, had a thought about what you want to do when we're back in the city?" 

"I have a few leads." Lucien answered. 

"Alright, tell me… Oh I guess you could still sing?" Mundy asked. 

"I could but I don't want to." 

"Oh?"

"Meow…" Perle came to Lucien.

"Mon bébé?"  

[My baby]

She lay on his lap, looking up at them both as they were finishing their food. She blinked slowly and Lucien reciprocated before he heard her pur. 

"So what d'you wanna do then?" Mundy asked. 

"I want to help those children that Maurice is taking care of."

"How?"

"A few lifetimes ago, I was sent in the colonies, in Africa. I had to tail a man with strategic information."

"What's it gotta do with-"

"I am getting to it, patience." 

"Right…" Mundy leaned his head on top of Lucien. 

"My cover job was chosen by France and I greatly enjoyed it, more than I thought I would." 

"What were you doin'?" 

"I was a teacher." 

"A teacher?" Mundy repeated. 

"Oui. Does that surprise you?" 

"A bit, yeah. Not that you wouldn't be great at the job, I just didn't expect that."

Lucien chuckled. He killed the fire and stood up. 

"Let us head back to your van, shall we?"

"Yeah." 

The Frenchman hopped on the horse and held a hand down for Mundy. 

"Oh?" 

"Come on." Lucien invited him and Mundy climbed up behind him. 

"Kitty cats, let's go." Mundy addressed them and the herd of fluff walked behind the horse, through the forest. 

The Aussie couldn't help but wrap his arms around Lucien and rest his jaw on the Frenchman's shoulder. 

"Are you alright?" Lucien asked. 

"Yeah… Just love you, Lu'." 

"I love you too." 

Mundy tightened his hug around Lucien. 

"May I ask, have you thought about the cats?" Lucien asked. 

"What about them?" 

"Perle was already a responsibility, but now with Soot and the kittens….?"

"Ah, yeah, I get what you mean. I thought I'd give the kittens away when they can leave their mum."

"Good idea."

"Yeah, we can keep Pearl and Soot." 

"I agree. Do you know who you will give them to?" 

"Nah, no idea yet."

"Hm."

They soon arrived at the campervan at the lake's shore and dismounted the horse. 

"So we have a week to pass, hm?" Lucien asked. 

"Yeah, that's what Maurice said."

"Anything you want to do in particular?" Lucien asked. 

"Just be with you." 

They slipped in the van but the herd of fluff decided to play outside. Bah, it was still day and they seemed to enjoy the sand very much. 

"Do you have any coffee in this ridiculous van of yours?" 

"Oi, she's not ridiculous." Mundy went to prepare some coffee while Lucien sat on the couch. He chuckled. 

"I do believe she is not indeed. She took you to meet me and in that regard, I am grateful." 

"You should be, eh." They exchanged a smile. Mundy looked through his cupboard. "I have regular and decaf', what d'you prefer?"

"Whichever you want." 

"You wanted some coffee so you choose."

"I do not have any preference, I just want something hot to warm me up that I can drink."

"Hm. Go for regular." 

Mundy made the coffee and when it was done, he gave one cup to Lucien and sat down next to him. 

"Here."

"Merci." 

"De rien." Mundy answered with a hint of his accent.

[You're welcome.]

"Someone is learning, hm?" 

"Tryin'."

"Really?" 

"Why not?"

Lucien snuggled against Mundy and the Aussie wrapped an arm around him. They sipped on their coffee in silence, the sweet smell slowly invading the van. 

"Mundy?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I must confess yet another sin of mine." 

"Oh? Tell me." 

"For the past few days, before I came to confront you, I… I came to listen to you." 

"Listen to me?" 

"Oui, when you play the saxophone."

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"Ah… What did you think about it?"

"To say it was pleasant would be an understatement. I enjoyed your concerts immensely, I even murmured along to the songs you played…"

"Oh, really?" 

Lucien put their empty cups away and came back to sit on Mundy's lap this time.

"Oh…?" 

He laced his arms around Mundy's neck and nested his head on his shoulder, under his ear. 

"You play with such poetry… The sound of the saxophone is so delicate, so breathy... Had I known that you play like that, I would have asked you to indulge me much earlier and more often."

"Hold on, you came to listen more than once?" 

"Oui."

"And you didn't recognise me?" 

"At first, non. But when I saw the van, I thought I was hallucinating. So, I waited." 

"For what?" 

"For you to go to sleep."

"Why?" 

"I then approached the van and touched it. I ran my fingers along it and went to the window. I saw you curled in your bed and my heart stopped." Lucien was blinking slowly on Mundy's shoulder and the Aussie brushed his back slowly. "And I started to think and doubt, for days. Should I go and talk to you? How?"

"O'course you should!"

Lucien smiled and kissed Mundy's neck.��

"It isn't obvious at all, mon loup." 

[My wolf]

"Why? Didn't you want to see me again?" Mundy asked. 

"Of course I wanted to. Non, if I confronted you, it would have made my year of isolation useless."

"How?" 

"If you see me, other people can too."

"Hm." Mundy bent down to kiss Lucien's head, his soft hair. "Y'know what?" 

"What?" 

Mundy frowned. 

"I'll protect you, ok? If needs be, I'll get a rifle again and-"

"Mundy…?" Lucien looked up with round eyes. 

"What? Did I say somethin' wrong?"

"Yes, you did. You said you would take a rifle again…?

"Yeah."

"But I thought…?"

"Yeah, rifles are awful, they kill people. They killed my parents and they killed you once. But… They're the only thing I know how to use to kill. And it's absolutely out of the way to let anyone come near you, you hear me?" 

"But Mundy-?"

"No. I can't bear it. Tried it once for ten years and once more for a year. No, it won't happen again. No one will take you away from me." He tightened his hug around the Frenchman who sighed and smiled, wrapped up in strong arms. 

"Likewise, mon amour."

[ageeksnerdyworld]

Just a Ghost Story

Characters: Journey, North Holden, Friday Morenn, Kipsie Lane, Coraline Xanadu, Vera Valentine, and Knox Silvera

Word Count: 3,368

Trigger Warning: Violence, Death

Notes: It’s hard writing things without mentioning the characters’ names and yet I keep doing this to myself. Why? I have no freaking clue honestly. As always The Cyber World and the viruses therein belong to @voiceoflarka

Summary: A mysterious vigilante has appeared in the Mythology District. Whoever they are they seem to be making a name for themselves. Meanwhile a strange newcomer has joined the United Front. And the group’s leader has a small, but important, job for the new recruit. Click that read more if you’d like.

~~~

The streets were busier than usual for the time of day. Whether it was a mere coincidence, or a planned outdoor celebration, was unclear. And yet masses of bodies were making their way around the city. Some were business types rushing back to work after a quick lunch. Others were rebellious school children skipping class for an impromptu day of fun. Groups clumped together and others walked in tandem but spread rather far apart.

But all the same whispering voices floated through the city streets. Adult viruses spoke in hushed tones of rumors and violence. Young sprites talked loudly and rapidly; excited by the possibilities. No one knew if any of it was true, but, deep down inside they all wanted to believe.

Walking through the crowded streets it would be hard to avoid accidentally eavesdropping on all the conversations.

Rumors say they took down that gang of mercenaries from Fallout.

The Deathclaw Bandits? This guy did that? Single-handedly? No way.

That's what I heard.

What if this mysterious "protector" of ours is just saving their own skin? Whoever the hell they might be they're probably hiding out from some real bad people.

Don't say things like that, Peri!

Tch, why? It's not like they're listening.

They could be. If you ever need their help, gods forbid it, they might leave you to the wolves.

Vis, you think he's real? Like really real?

Yeah, man!

Who says it's a guy? Could be a girl. Or neither. You two don't know.

Shut up, Anni! Hey, Sassafras, whaddya think his powers are? He's gotta have something awesome!

As things usually are, with rumors and hearsay, everyone talked about it. The masked vigilante who took the district's troubles to heart was like an itch that just wouldn't stop. Or like spots in your vision from the sunshine on a bright summer day. Whoever they were their good deeds burrowed into the hearts and minds of the people and stuck. Talk of the mysterious virus who walked the shifty back alleys, and brought evils to light, was unavoidable. Everyone would talk about the city's hero whether they wanted to or not.

They all knew that the vigilante had to be living somewhere in the city. It just made sense.

A female virus seamlessly sneaks into the crowd of pedestrians. Her clothes were as conspicuous as possible; a dark brown leather jacket, gray hoodie underneath with the hood up, and black jeans. She walks completely unnoticed in the crowds. Keeping her head down she quietly listens to the singing praises. A small smile curls at the edge of her mouth. This was good. Very good in fact. Having the faith of the people would definitely help in the long run.

Deftly ducking back out of the crowd she dashes into an alleyway.

As she runs a few strands of brown hair fell from under the hood. Her hand quickly shoots up and wipes the hair away. Turning around a corner she slows to a walk. Running in, eyes wide, jacket whipping in the wind, alarm bells ringing wouldn't look good. Even if the news was better than they'd hoped.

Status wouldn't matter if everyone got caught. What they were doing was still illegal.

Sauntering up to a nearby brick wall she stops just a few inches from the wall. Raising a hand, loosely balled in a fist, she knocks on the wall. Once, twice, and a third time. Pausing for a few seconds the hand knocks on the brick twice more.

Stepping back a foot or so she waits patiently.

The section of brick wall slowly begins to quiver and shake. A few clouds of dust and dirt pill out from the top. Even slower it swings open; back into the dimly lit hallway. She steps through doorway without a word. The door closes behind; returning the facade of a normal brick wall.

"How was recon, chief?" a voice calls from the corner.

She lifts the hood off her head; revealing the light brown angled bob underneath. A streak of bright white breaks the monotony of the color. The haircut frames her face nicely. Her eyes are light brown and her skin is tan. A few freckles dot her cheeks; accentuating her high cheekbones. Her frame is so small and skinny she could easily be mistaken for a child. Turning to the tall, pencil thin, man who stands guard she sighs.

"Same shit different day, Fri. Tell Kip, Vera, and Coraline that I'm waiting for them in the war room."

"You got it."

"On second thought..." she says; pausing slightly.

"Something wrong?"

She shakes her head and says; "Tell the newbie too. He should know of his good work."

"Copy that, North."

~~~

High above the city a lone figure sits crouched on top of a building. The figure is dressed from head to toe in all black. Even then their entire form, clothes and all, is covered by a long black leather coat. Edges of dark, chunky, boot heels just barely peek out from under the billowing coat. They sit, knees bent and arms crossed over one another, on the very edge of the roof. Their chin rests firmly on their arm.

Wind blows through the dark gray fur on their ears.

The perching figure's chest barely expands and contracts as they breathe. Such minor movement would go unnoticed to the average eye. As well as the quick hand that reaches into a hidden pocket on the inside of the coat. The hand pulls out a pair of goggles. They put the goggles on their head; the round lens frames resting just above their forehead.

Looking out over the city streets he pulls the goggles down over their eyes.

Flicking the eye loupes down in front of the lenses the street below comes into full view. They could now clearly see the pedestrians milling about. A mother, father, and son, a very young sprite, causally walked hand in hand. The figure watches the small family intently. A somber nostalgic feeling washes over them. Then something in the alley catches the figure's attention; a glint of metal. Light from the street just barely illuminates the form of a virus leaning against the wall.

As they prepare to leave their perch the voice of Friday Morenn floats through their mind.

"The chief wants you all in the war room asap. It seems pretty important if you ask me."

If North is calling a meeting then it had to be something big. Especially if she wanted everyone there. It made sense why she’d call in the others. They had been with her the longest. They were her trusted advisers and closest friends. The urgency in Friday’s voice made it seem like an all hands on deck thing.

Which never boded well in his experience.

It takes him just under half an hour to make his way to the hideout. He does his best to make sure he isn’t followed. Weaving in and out of alleys, climbing fire escapes, and running along rooftops to throw off anyone who might be on his tail. When they make it to the non-descript brick wall they check their perimeter again. Seeing that he hadn’t been followed he knocks on the brick.

After a minute or so the door opens and he steps in. He goes directly to the very back room, the war room, without a word to Friday. Pushing the door open he sees the others are already there; waiting.

Vera Valentine lounges on an old punching bag. Her long arms hang off opposite sides of the partially deflated bag. She wears a navy crop top; showing her midriff and the dangling silver “V” bellybutton piercing. Her tail is long and wide. It wraps around the base of the punching bag before laying on the floor. Her scales are black except for the underside of her tail where the scales are red before fading to a pink. Her eyes are coal black and her skin is tan. She has a delighted smirk on her face.

“Toldja he’d be the last one to show up,” she says in a thick Aussie accent.

Kipsie gives her a nod and says; “Looks like you won the bet there, darlin’.”

He regretfully pulls a handful of credits from the back pocket of his jeans and hands them to the snake virus. She smiles happily and counts her winnings. Kipsie takes the trucker hat off his head and runs a hand through his long auburn hair. Returning the hat to his head he goes back to where he originally stood; leaning against the back wall a foot or so from North’s desk. He puts a boot heel up against the wall behind him. Kipsie Lane shakes his head in disappointment and crosses his arms over his chest.

A myriad of tattoos and scars tear through his muscular arms.

“That’s why you never bet against Vera,” Coraline says.

She sits on a small stack of wooden ammunition crates with her legs spread wide. The Pomeranian virus is surprisingly a lot more battle hardened than one would expect. A large scar runs through her right cheek; ending at her chin. Her right eye is a slighter lighter shade of brown than the other. It doesn’t move when her left eye does. Her hair is shaved down to the scalp. She wears an all black outfit that is clearly made up of random clothes she’s found. But surprisingly it works for her.

North Holden, the leader of The United Front, sits behind a small desk.

“Journey, good to see you’ve made it. Take a seat,” North says calmly.

He nods and hides his suspicions. He grabs the nearest chair, a plastic school desk chair, and turns it around. Sitting in the chair he wraps his legs around the metal legs. Crossing his arms over the curved back of the chair his left ear twitches slightly towards the door.

“You’ve done some good work since coming here,” she says. “I think we can all agree on that.”

The others nod in agreement.

“But what you don’t know is that the people have taken a liking to you. And I think we should use that to our advantage. It would be best to do so as quickly as we can.”

“I want you to take out the district’s biggest threat.”

Journey knows exactly what she means and whom she’s referring to. Despite his short time with the group he knows more than any other newcomer would. North and her compatriots trust him about just as much as they trust each other. And if the people of the district like him, trust him, as much as North is implying then it makes sense for him to be the one.

Before anything else is said Coraline hops off the crates and storms out of the room. She shoots Journey a dirty look on her way out.

“Don’t pay her any mind,” Kipsie says. “She hates it when any of us get an important assignment. It’s nothing personal.”

He accepts the assignment without much hesitation. Kipsie walks over and claps him on the back; wishing him good luck. Much to his surprise Vera slithers over and firmly clasps his hand. She leans in close to him and whispers in his ear. Journey pulls back, shocked by her candor, but Vera just winks and leaves the room.

“Good luck out there, Journey,” North says sincerely.

“I won’t let you down,” he says as he exits.

~~~

Breaking into the house was a lot easier than Journey expected. Whoever normally roamed the grounds was either on the opposite side of the house or on a short break. He rapidly climbs the leaf covered trellis that runs the height of the wall. Dropping onto the grass below; he lands without a sound.

Much to his surprise not a single security camera was posted in the yard.

Guess he thinks he's untouchable and doesn't need any.

Creeping around the various statues and hedges he makes his way to the house. With goggles on he can see everything as clear as it would be during the bright hours of day. A fenced in garden sits just opposite the outdoor patio. The garden itself was a rather odd mix with bushes of flowers and winding tomato vines. A stone fountain, with a small statue of the goddess Bia in the middle, stood in the center of the garden.

That's when he notices a staircase, built into the facade of the house, leading to the top floor.

Creeping as quickly and quietly as possible he makes his way across the yard and to the stairs. Rushing up the staircase he takes two stairs at a time. He steps onto the landing without a sound. The staircase lead him to a balcony which overlooked the rest of the grounds. He turns his attention to the right and the large casement windows that lead into a room. The room was an office or maybe a small library. He rushes to the section of wall that wasn’t part of the windows. He flattens his body against the stone, as flat as he can, and leans to take a look inside.

Peeking inside he sees exactly who he hoped to see.

Knox Silvera.

He was standing in the room with his back to the windows. But he turned around just as Journey saw that it was indeed the mob boss.

Journey bites his bottom lip. Reaching into his jacket he pulls out a lock-pick set. The windows came together at the black frames and the handles sat on the inside. The keyhole was on the inside as well, but, it was possible to jimmy the lock from where he stood. He just had to wait for the right time.

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long as his target was walking out of the room.

Journey pulls the goggles off his eyes and set them on his head. Much to his surprise he made quick work of the lock and the windows swung open slightly. He reached in and grabbed the brass handle. Stepping back he opened the window and crept inside the room.

He looked for a place to hide but there was no time.

Almost exactly when he walked in Silvera returned to the room. They make eye contact and Journey pauses.

Knox Silvera was a male satyr virus with dashing good looks and bright ice blue veins. He had a chiseled face and dark blonde hair. His black horns protrude from the top of his head, poking out of his thick hair, and curled around; stopping just below his ears. His eyes were as dark as the sky on a stormy night. But his viciousness and pure evil darkened them even further. He wore a white suit with a black tie.

"Well, if it isn't our city's unsung hero," he says with an icy sweetness.

"You're done," Journey replies; voice muffled by the mask.

"Oh, really? Are you here to stop me?"

Silently nodding the rabbit virus doesn't say a word.

"I think you're sorely mistaken," Silvera replies.

He throws a knife directly at Journey's face. He ducks away from the blade; hoping to avoid the attack. But the knife slices into the side of his mask. A gash running through the left side of the fabric that covered their cheek.

"You--"

Two more knives fly through the air; interrupting his thought process. His eyes go wide and they quickly fall into a crouch. A blade just barely grazes his hair as he hits the ground. He turns around frantically trying to find the knives.

A sensible act which proves to be a mistake.

Silvera steps in front of the vigilante as quickly as possible.

"Let's see who you really are," he says.

Journey scrambles to avoid another knife attack but he’s caught off guard. This time Silvera wields two identical daggers. He slices either side of the rabbit virus's face. Now the left side of the mask flaps open.

The vigilante gets up; breathing heavily. He attempts to send a series of angry punches toward Silvera. But in his anger, and shock, only one blow makes contact. His right hook just barely manages to clip the left side of the satyr’s jaw.

In response Silvera cuts a wide gash, with both blades, in the front of the leather.

The brown leather mask silently falls to the floor. Journey quickly covers his face with both hands and looks at the ruined mask with horror. His ears droop and his bright green eyes go wide. Silvera instantly smiles. Thinking that he's won he kneels down and picks up the mask.

"Seems like I've beaten you," Silvera says as he stands over the vigilante.

In response Journey kicks a leg out, as hard as he can, and knocks Silvera to his knees. The rabbit virus gets up as quickly as he can. His bright eyes are now angry slits and his mouth is pursed in a small circle. Continuing to look down at the shiny tile floor his hands, which remain at his sides, curl into fists. His ears twitch angrily.

As the crime lord staggers to his feet the rabbit virus punches him in the chest. The wind is knocked out of the man and he stumbles back. An ornate knife emerges from somewhere on Silvera's person. He holds the hilt tightly and points it in the direction of where Journey stands.

But the rabbit virus simply smiles at the threat.

A hand shoots out and grabs Silvera's wrist. He bends Silvera’s hand back and at the same time Journey head butts him. His grip on the knife slips and it clatters to the floor. He head butts Silvera again and his hand rushes to pinch his nose. A gush of icy blue soul residue leaks from his nostrils. He tilts his head back to stop the flow. But he's heavily tackled to the floor.

His head hits the tile with a thud.

Journey quickly picks the knife; hiding it behind his back. He steps on Silvera's fingers and harshly grinds his boot heel into them. With his free leg he stomps heavily on Silvera’s stomach and he buckles from the pain. Flipping the knife upside down he clutches the blade and quickly punches the satyr virus in the temple with it. He winces in pain as his vision goes blurry. Just as the rabbit virus steps off his hand Silvera quickly scuttles away.

"Hit me all you want, Mask," Silvera says with a laugh. "I’m going to ruin you."

"That doesn't matter, Silvera," the rabbit virus says; an ominous intent weighing heavy in his words.

"Bu--but I saw your face, you, you have to understand how serious that is. I... I'll tell! I'll tell everyone what you look like. Yo--you're not safe anymore," the man stammers desperately grasping to the thinnest but of hope he has.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

"What?"

"That doesn't matter, Silvera," he repeats; even more threatening than the first time.

"You're not telling anyone anything. You understand, me? You're not making it out of here alive."

As the last syllable leaves Journey's lips he jams the blade hilt into Silvera's throat; hard. The force behind the blow breaks his windpipe and he begins to choke. Horrible, loud, gasping breaths fill the open air as he tries to keep himself alive. But quicker than he can figure out what's happening the blade slices deep into his neck. Bright, blue, soul residue splatters all over Journey but it mostly soaks into the black clothes. A small streak colors his face.

Knox Silvera’s body goes limp and he falls backward. He lands on the tile floor with a low thud. Silvera's eyes go dark and his soul continues to pour out of the gash in his neck. As it begins to pool around his stiff body his veins turn black.

Journey drops the knife, picks up the remains of his mask, and speaks to an empty room.

"The Mask is just a ghost story and I'll do whatever I have to to keep it that way."

[cadavre-exquis-rp]

Hello pals! For our next lore release (and hopefully to begin planting seeds of character inspiration) you’ll find our Membergroup Overviews beneath the cut. More information on each group will be released at a later date, we merely want to give you a taste of what is to come.

H U M A N S • The majority of the human population of Paris remains unaware of the supernatural around them. For nearly a decade, they’ve been primarily preoccupied with the Great War and then the aftershock that followed. Mortal Paris is all too happy to slough off their wartime threads and lose themselves in a haze of absinthe and glamour. Some humans, however, are keenly aware of what goes bump in the night and have formed hunting clans, including the fabled Round Table, a network that stretches across the globe.

M E L U S I N E • Over the decades, they have been called silkie, mermaids, sirens, and merrows. The Melusine are an aquatic people, typically populating rivers and shallow seas across the globe. Though bound to the water by a deep dependency on its power, a Melusine can fold into human skin at will, and walk amongst the people of Paris Above, and Paris Below. Constantly threatened by humanity's wars and the loss of habitat through pollution or encroachment, the Melusine of Paris have turned to piracy and raiding. For hundreds of years, they have pillaged shipping and merchant vessels, and stirred up conflicts to drive the humans back from their precious waters.

L O U P G A R O U • The Moon is a cruel mistress -- beautiful and annihilating. Lycanthropy is a progressive disease with no known cure and no deterrent. Passed on through the saliva of infected individuals, Loup Garou become more monstrous the longer they bear the illness. This is no romantic picture of beautiful wolves roaming in packs and howling at full moons. Loup Garou slowly turn from rational beings into hunted beasts. Not only do hunters seek them out and kill them, but as the disease advances, some set out to hunt and kill their own brethren.

V A M P I R E S • The Eaters of the Dead. Both immortal and deeply fragile creatures, the vampiric population of Paris has long learned to preserve their positions of relative power and wealth as the world turns madly on. A vampire is born through the bite of a sire, the intended fledgling binding themselves to a memento, and a long sleep. Perhaps the most integrated with the human population based upon parasitic necessity (or perhaps morbid curiosity), the recent Great War came as an unfortunate shock that threatened their precarious position embedded within Parisian society. With the end of the Great War and the beginning of Années folles, the Vampiric society of Paris has breathed a sigh of relief -- things will continue as they were, uninterrupted, and they will hold the peace.

W I X • The Wix are a vastly disperse species, commonly referred to by many names -- “witch” being one, “sorcerer” another, and both are seen as rather rude  terms within their community. Historically secretive and traditionally wary of human interaction, the Wix rely on networks of powerful families. However, those born to humans or otherwise outside the covetous bloodlines form hedgewitch communities, where magical knowledge is shared and taught freely. The Wix form the Wixen Council of Paris Below, responsible for the government of the secret city. More than a millennium ago, the inaugural Council bound the Horror beneath Paris Below and built the city with magic long lost, long forgotten.

[awesomemartineanciauxthings-blog]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B4d8TAu8FMw)

29-1-2017 la presence du loup  est souvent matière à polèmique pour les éléveurs? je me rappelle d'un temps lorsqu'on était petit de ces histoires de loups qui nous faisaient peur, par contre dans le livre de la jungle de WALT DISNEY MERE LOUVE ET LES LOUVETEAUX SONT LA FAMILLE DE MOGLI 18-10-2015 miise à jour du diaporama de photos&photos-peintures ©Les Loups Martine Anciaux créatricedelaphoto-peinture créatorphotopainting mondeTv web Nature© Mise en ligne le 8 juil. 2011

MARTINE ANCIAUX, photographe d’art,et créatrice de la photo-peinture, photo painting, Martine ANCIAUX creator of the photo painting. new art of the photo painting, art photographer, http://www.anciaux-photos.fr, http://www.anciauxmartine.com

Lors de l'exposition organisée par l'AIGLE DE NICE dont je fais partie est qui est encore EN PLACE JUSQU'AU 11 JUILLET 2011 A LA MAISON DE FRANCE DANS LA  PRINCIPAUTE DE MONACO. APRES LE VERNISSAGE DE L'EXPOSITION QUI AVAIT LIEU UNE SEMAINE AVANT LE MARIAGE PRINCIER ENTRE LE PRINCE ALBERT ET LA PRINCESSE CHARLENE WITTSTOCK.J'AI PROFITE D'UN MOMENT DE TEMPS LIBRE POUR VOIR LE PARC ALPHA,PARC DES LOUPS DANS LE PARC DU MERCANTOUR PROCHE DE SAINT MARTIN DE VESUBIE A BOREON translated by Google translation 18-10-2015 miise the update photo slideshow photo-paintings &  © The Wolves Martine Anciaux créatricedelaphoto-painting créatorphotopainting web mondeTv © Nature On line July 8, 2011

MARTINE ANCIAUX, art photographer, and creator of the photo-painting, photo painting, Martine ANCIAUX creator of the picture painting. Photo of the new art painting, art photographer, http://www.anciaux-photos.fr, http://www.anciauxmartine.com

At the exhibition organized by AIGLE DE NICE which I belong is that is still UP UNTIL THE July 11, 2011 HOUSE OF FRANCE IN MONACO PRINCIPALITY. AFTER THE OPENING OF THE EXHIBITION WHICH HAD HELD A WEEK BEFORE MARRIAGE PRINCIER PRINCE ALBERT AND THE PRINCESS CHARLENE WITTSTOCK.J'AI ADVANTAGE OF FREE TIME NOW TO SEE THE ALPHA PARK, PARK OF WOLVES IN THE PARK MERCANTOUR NEAR SAINT MARTIN DE VESUBIE A BOREON

[lorrainecparker]

Cine Gear Expo: Three Cameras

Canon, Panasonic, and Sony all used Cine Gear Expo 2017 as the event to anchor their announcements of new cine-oriented cameras. What they revealed says much about where the industry is going, and when they revealed it speaks to the growing importance of Cine Gear as an industry show.

Canon C200 & C200B

C200 side panel. Yeah, you hang a decent lens on it, it gets nose-heavy.

Canon revealed the C200 and C200B a few days early on May 31st—and it’s clear they laid the groundwork some time prior to that. Jon Fauer (as usual) had with all facts and a good set of photos ready to roll, and Elliot Smith was good to go with a hands-on review. Erik Naso pondered whether the C200s are good upgrades for C100 and C300 users, and why. On the day Cine Gear opened, Andy Stout delved further in the new CinemaRaw Light codec, and of course Canon already has a set of C200 white papers available.

CFast card slot on the left, dual SD slots in the rear.

From the top: two XLR inputs, SDI out, headphone / USB ports, RJ-45 networking port, DC IN. On the side: HDMI.

Side grip with joystick, Fn button, dial control

The side grip uses a standard ARRI rosette for easy accessorizing

C200 LCD with buttons and joystick

There’s been a lot of discussion about this $6000–$7500 4K camcorder (the lower price is for an EVF-less, body-only C200B; the higher price includes EVF, LCD, top handle, and side grip). Many are distressed that the camera records only 8-bit 4:2:0 MP4 files to SD cards and DCI 4K Cinema Raw Light to CFast cards: the former is felt to be too lightweight for “serious” work while the latter is not cheap: a 64GB FCFast card will be consumed in a mere five minutes at 23.98 fps. (Gripers will be somewhat mollified by the promise of a future firmware upgrade to add XF-AVC recording, which offers 10 bits and/or 4:2:2 or even 4:4:4 sampling in its various flavors, though I don’t know which flavors the C200s will offer.)

People often grumble when Canon releases a new camera, whether in the EOS or Cinema EOS lines, usually saying (a) it’s too expensive for what it does, (b) it’s not pushing the envelope nearly as much as it should, and/or (c) they’ve completely misunderstood the market and built something nobody wants or needs. And yet, somehow, whatever overpriced, under-specced, missed-the-market camera Canon announces goes on to lead a happy and productive life. I think the C200/C200B will follow the same course.

I had a chat with Canon’s Paul Hawxhurst about point (c): who did they build this camera for? His answer was quite specific, though I’ve paraphrased it a bit: the C200 is for the C100 shooters who need an affordable, practical camera for their mundane day gigs, but want to step up their game on special projects. Plain, boring old 8-bit 4:2:0 MP4 will handle the long recording times and manageable file sizes needed for corporate talking heads, explainer videos, and the like, while Cinema Raw Light provides the grading flexibility and image quality for higher-end work—and it’s still more manageable and affordable than hanging an external recorder off the back.

While a 64 GB card may be consumed in 5 minutes, you can get cards up to half a Terabyte in capacity, for about 40 minutes of continuous recording time. And yes, CFast cards are expensive, but  they’re like film magazines, not film loads: they’re reusable containers, not expendables.

And, he said with his snarky hat on, if you’re already spending too much money on an “overpriced” Canon, why are you fussing about “overpriced” CFast cards? Remember when P2 cards came out? Or SxS? Or XQD? All new, fast media are annoyingly expensive. True, CFast isn’t that “new” any more, but there’s a global NAND flash shortage at the moment, and even commodity SSDs have suffered rising prices in recent months. Take a deep breath, buy some “digital mags” that’ll last the life of the camera or beyond, and get on with life.

Like many of the commentariat, I was a bit puzzled by the C200s when I first saw the specs and the pricing. But the more I thought about it, the more I think Canon knows exactly what it’s doing. The camera marks a further refinement and streamlining of the physical package, and the capabilities and price slot it neatly between the C100 Mk II and the C300 Mk II. The C200 may not make a lot of sense to “outsiders”, but those in the Canon camp—a somewhat hermetic society, like Apple or Leica users—are likely to adopt it with the same enthusiasm as they have other Cinema EOS cameras.

Note that all the bits ‘n’ pieces needed to make the $7500 C200 out of the $6000 C200B can be ordered a la carte, with the exception of the pigtail EVF. If you want the EVF, you’ll need to buy the C200; you can’t add that EVF to the C200B at a later date.

My only serious complaint is that the C200s employ the standard bayonet mount for the EF lenses, rather than the far superior breech-lock / positive-locking EF mount on the C500 and C700. Bayonet-mounted lenses can flex and wobble on the body, which they are wont to do once you hook up a follow-focus or drive motor; this is a sadly missed opportunity to continue the trend that Canon already started towards making a more stable EF attachment for cine uses.

The C200s are scheduled to ship in August.

Panasonic AU-EVA1

Panasonic tantalized crowds with a mockup of the AU-EVA1 under a cloth at NAB 2017; at Cine Gear Expo two mockups were unveiled: one under glass, and one in the hands of the indefatigable Mitch Gross.

Mitch Gross and the AU-EVA1

Mitch and his mockup attracted heavy crowds. I was his first interview at 10am; when I walked past at closing time, he was still at it—a security guard had to come over and threaten to throw him out so the show could close.

The AU-EVA1 is (or will be) a 5.7K, Super35mm camcorder with an EF mount recording 10-bit 4:2:2 to SD cards. While codec speeds ‘n’ feeds weren’t being discussed, take a look at what the DC-GH5 and the DVX-200 can do, and you’ll likely have a pretty good idea.

Like its larger VariCam stablemates, the EVA1 will have a dual-native-ISO readout (exact values TBD), V-Log and V-Gamut, and, with a future firmware update, raw output to external recorders. The camera will capture 4K at up to 60P and 2K at up to 240p. The button layout on the side panel is vaguely VariCam-ish, and Mitch says that the menus will likely have a VariCam-like flavor to them, too. One thing not carried over from the VariCam, I’m told, will be the long reboot times!

At $8000 or less, the EVA is aimed at the gap between the VariCam LT and the GH5:

(from Panasonic’s EVA website)

Why 5.7K? The EVA is a Bayer-pattern single-chip camcorder, and like all such beasties the “honest” pixel resolution of the debayered sensor is a fraction of the raw pixel count. If we go by the rule of thumb that a good deBayer yields a final luma resolution of about 80% of the raw pixel count, 5K will give you a proper 4K image. If we’re lucky, some of that extra .7K might be used to provide “lookaround” outside the active image area, so we can see mike booms and light stands before they show up in picture.

The EVA1’s 5.7K sensor

EVA1 side panel

EVA1: LCD can mount on either side at the back of the handle. Or pull the handle off and mount it to one of the top-plate sockets.

EVA1 has dual SD slots, takes DVX-style batteries or 7–12VDC power

Rotating side grip with control dial and function buttons

The units at Cine Gear Expo were weighted mockups, so the heft of the models was close to the 2.65 lb / 1.2 kg weight of the final product.

The cameras will have 2-, 4-, and 6-stop internal ND filters, electrically driven, along with a retractable IR filter on a second filter wheel.

The EVA1 will output 4K over both HDMI and SDI, and will feed both outputs simultaneously. There’s no eye-level EVF; you can fit a third-party loupe to the LCD, or use something like the Gratical if you prefer. Having both HDMI and SDI active means you can sacrifice one for an EVF and still have the other output for an external monitor/recorder or to feed video village.

An EF mount is the standard—and only—lens mount. Sadly, unlike the one on the VariCam LT, it’s a twist-on bayonet style, not the rigid and robust positive-lock version.

EVA1s are scheduled to ship in Fall 2017. More info at Panasonic’s EVA1 webpage.

Sony Next-Gen CineAlta Camera

Sony held a small press briefing hidden deep in the bowels of the Marathon Building before publicly announcing their next-generation CineAlta camera in the Paramount Theater.

Peter Crithary ran though the basics: Sony has has 17 years of experience in the cine world, and the F65 won a Scientific and Engineering Oscar in February. Sony’s Digital Motion Picture Centers exist in Hollywood, Pinewood Studios on the UK, Beijing, and Mumbai; these are places for industry pros to learn about and work with Sony gear, and for Sony to learn from industry folks. Sony also holds focus groups to have industry folks talk directly with design engineers (I’ve had the pleasure of doing this a few years ago), and they’ll take big-name DPs to Japan for intensive discussions—in the case of the current project, Claudio Miranda was involved.

And the current project? A complete, new, from-the-ground-up development of the next-generation CineAlta camera:

Full-frame, 36x24mm sensor. Sony agrees with Panavision that full-frame will be the feature format of the future. And it’s not just those with cameras to sell that say this; I’ve spoken with a number of thoughtful and perceptive DPs who agree that full-frame, a.k.a. large-format, offers greater “dimensionality, roundness, and separation of elements” than S35mm. One DP told me that the larger formats render images more the way we see them, while smaller sensors flatten the space too much.

“Lens agnostic”, implying flexible cropping for S35mm or other formats. When Geoff Boyle said he’s used to calling for a 40mm and knowing what that looks like (on 4-perf 35mm film), Peter nodded and said, “not a problem”.

4K 4×3 anamorphic is a specific target; the sensor will have at least that much resolution. Sony says that they have “very consistent feedback” that 4K 4×3 anamorphic was Something They Need To Do. (I even overheard mutterings—which I didn’t confirm—that “4K 4×3 anamorphic” applies to a S35mm-format crop. Make of that what you will.)

“Much wider latitude than anything we’ve had before”.

Wider color gamut.

All-new design: this isn’t a reworked F65 or F55 or anything else.

And yet: the same familiar workflow: 16-bit raw, X-OCN, XAVC. (Much approval voiced by the crowd at this.)

Sensor is “very far along”.

Existing cameras remain in the lineup. The next-gen camera supplements them, it does not replace them.

Sony is not ready to discuss lens mounts or recording media yet.

Release is planned for “early 2018”. Price TBD. When asked if there would be something to see at IBC in September, Peter said that IBC “may be a target” and there would definitely be more information then.

“Stay tuned.”

So What?

The three different announcements reflect three trends in the cine-camera industry: larger formats, resolution agnosticism, and high dynamic range / wide color gamut imaging.

Larger formats: various larger-than-S35mm sensors, mostly from RED, have been cropping up (pun intended) for several years now.

The RED-sensor-based Panavision Millenium DXL and ARRI Alexa 65 have legitimized the resurgence of large-format more than a bunch of aggro bad-boy biker-gang revolutionaries could (grin), and it doesn’t hurt that we’re now seeing large-format cine glass becoming increasingly available.

That the EVA1 uses a S35mm sensor instead of a four-thirds sensor as the GH5 and DVX-200 do is another indicator: size matters. I know a bunch of folks were disappointed that the EVA1 isn’t a direct follow-on to the AF-100/AF-101 MFT cine camera (hint: look at the GH5 instead), but S35mm was the right choice: while many (myself included) appreciate MFT as a perfect Goldilocks compromise between one-man-band live focusability and cinematic shallow depth of field, we’re in the minority.

Resolution agnosticism: scanning formats matched to broadcast or exhibition resolutions made sense in analog and early digital days, when memory was expensive, high-res sensors were difficult, and resampling framestores cost an arm and a leg. Nowadays there’s increasingly less reason to shoot what you screen, or to capture the same image you record. Shoot more pixels, and you can downsize for sharpness and detail, or have room to zoom in, pan ‘n’ scan, or stabilize the image in post. The EVA1 does this in a small way with its 5.7K sensor for a 4K image, downsampling in camera for higher quality. Sony’s announcement that their full-frame camera will be “lens agnostic” seems a clear indication that it’ll have plenty of pixels to play with, allowing for high-res images even with at least a S35mm crop factor.

HDR / WCG: all these cameras are firmly aimed at a high-dynamic range, wide color gamut future. Of course you’ll be able to capture log images at 10 bits or higher and/or record or output a raw image.

It’s interesting is that all three of these camera announcements were timed to synchronize with Cine Gear Expo, not NAB or IBC. It seems there’s a growing sense that NAB and IBC are too big and diffuse to be the best venue for cine-style gear rollouts; smaller, more focused shows like Cine Gear Expo and CINEC are the places and times to make a big noise in the industry. More power, then, to Cine Gear Expo and CINEC, and all the more reason to attend… or at least to keep an ear to the ground when they’re happening.

    Disclosure: There is no material relationship between me and any of the companies mentioned. None of ’em paid me to write about ’em or offered any blandishments to do so.

The post Cine Gear Expo: Three Cameras appeared first on ProVideo Coalition.

First Found At: Cine Gear Expo: Three Cameras

[ulfhrafnx]

@darkfascination said: leaning against the cheap plastic siding of the trailer he watches the back of the woman who has just stepped outside. “ that boy is real sweet on you, ” jesse flicks the butt of his cigarette into the dirt, “ i never seen him smitten before ,” a sad, slow laugh follows. he stands straight, hands hidden in deep pockets, “ i'm a might worried we could lose him if you ask.” there is an unspoken question directed to her, would she ?

 she feels the silvered ones eyes on her even before he speaks , following her every move , studying her, just as she has been studying them all. learning their strengths and weaknesses. out of habit mostly but also the desire to better understand them. to know them as severen knows them.

jesse’s focus hasn't strayed too far since she arrived , establishing him not only as a worthy leader but a predator as well. he , like her , understood the sacrifices necessary to keep one's tribe safe. the livelihood of other's took priority before one's own. no exceptions. in that regard they had an understanding.

❝ 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝙷 ?  that’s news to me. that saddle bum runs his mouth about everything but what matters. ❞ still she knows there’s truth to his words. they wouldn’t be having this conversation otherwise.  ❝ if that’s your 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙳𝚂 way of asking me if i have some nefarious plan to lure him away from you — the answer is no. i know how much ya'll mean to him , ❞ how much he meant to him, ❝... i would never deprive him of this , being a pack creature myself. ❞ it's easy to see how anyone in his position could view her as a threat. she is. though she has no desire to disrupt their family dynamic , she senses, unintentionally , she may have done just that.

❝ doesn’t mean he won’t make his own choices at the end of the day. you and i both know severen does what he wants. i've tried to dissuade him , ❞ but like a stray , well fed and watered once , he kept coming back. ❝ ... i don't know if this is only a passing fancy. ❞ or something more dangerous , for them both.

[ulfhrafnx]

❝ 𝑯𝑶𝑵𝑬𝒀 , 𝙸'𝙼 𝙷𝙾𝙼𝙴 ! ❞ 

the sound of spurs clicking against the hardwood flooring announces his arrival , long before his voice cuts through the silence. southern twang as charming as ever. 

❝ look what the cat dragged in , ❞ she doesn’t glance up from the inventory she’s cataloging , even as calloused hands take firm hold of her hips. 

@darkfascination was never very patient , didn’t take too kindly to being ignored either , so it comes as no surprise when he whirls her around to face him , pulling her flush against his torso in the process , his touch unrestrained. ❝ ain’t you the prettiest filly i’ve ever seen. ❞ he offers a toothy grin , eyes manic as they take her in.

❝ mhm, you here because you missed me or because you want something ? ❞

[ulfhrafnx]

i think the idea of passing on battle jacket’s to a loved one is such a beautiful and intimate gesture. for those not in the alt scene , who may not know what im talking about , a lot of love and time is poured into designing leather / jean jackets and vests that represent us and our passions ( often featuring favorite bands , movies , artists , etc. ) so when you pass it on to another person you’re essentially giving them a part of yourself to cherish when you’re no longer around. lira’s notoriously difficult to get rid of but should something ever happen to her mae will be getting lira’s leather jacket.

[ulfhrafnx]

“I’m teef, I’m teef!” She shrilly declares running up to her mother with a well used file clutched in her long, clawed fingers. Giggling ensues as she tries rubbing the tool on her already pointed fangs.

“I’m teef!” She cries again, dissolving into giggles. From another room Severen can be heard rummaging around. “Where is that goddamn thing…”

❝ you are teef. ❞ she kneels to meet the little hellion at eye level , pointing at the rows of razor sharp teeth inside of her mouth. it takes all her strength not to laugh as she coaxes the file out of her ironclad grip , by way of distraction , all the while attempting to correct the behavior , ❝ this doesn’t belong to you , silly girl. your teeth are already just like pabbi’s , ❞ sharper even , the result of her monstrous bloodline , of járnviðr.

in the distance she hears the unmistakable sound of objects clattering , furniture haphazardly being re-arranged , as  severen turns the bedroom upside down in his frantic search. like a god damn bull in a china shop.  ❝  — and it’s not nice to take his things without asking , come on , let’s go give it back. ❞ with a kiss to the crown of her unruly head she stands , but not before her baby bat gleefully hops onto her back , legs kicking wildly back and forth as the two of them head for the stairs.  ❝ i found it. you can stop renovating our space , ❞ for fucks sake , ❝ you'll never guess where it was. ❞

[ulfhrafnx]

𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙵𝙾𝚁 @batagonist.

❝ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄. ❞ the crimson bat symbol , emblazoned on his chest for all to see , was a neon target placed not only on himself but on her as well. he was bad for business , as was any affiliation with the batman in this part of gotham — yet somehow she’s less bothered by that , more so the possibility of him encroaching on her work.  her attention remains fixed on the scope of her rifle , even as he moves out of her peripheral view. her target ? a kingpin some very powerful people wanted gone. 

[ulfhrafnx]

“No, no, stay there, you relax!”

He struggles to get his boots off and keep the little bat creature from wriggling away, sure to spread the mess they’ve already trailed into the front hall further inside.

“You wanna get us in trouble?”

The cheerful squeaking, sounding ever similar to laughter.

she smells the gore still clinging to them both as they enter , poorly stifled giggling a sign their evening excursion had been a success.

❝ sounds like somebody’s blood drunk. ❞ lira muses , meeting them at the entrance a moment later. the creature crawls it's way over to it's mother , who bends down to scoop her up off the ground , large wings wrapping around her torso like a makeshift blanket. ❝ hello my little nightmare , did you have fun ? ❞ she coos and rubs at her eyes ( one green and one blue ) with a claw as she burrows into lira's leather jacket , sleep quickly overtaking her. the vargr's attention redirects to the savage one , still struggling with his boots.

❝ you drunk too ? ❞ a sly smile , ❝ how did it go ? and how much did she eat , she looks ready to burst. ❞ no doubt a glutton , just like her insatiable father.

[ulfhrafnx]

@savagecowboy said: winding back he hurls the rope through the air, it sails true and lands on target, loop settling in place. " wooo ! still got it ! ”

under other circumstances she would have found his rodeo clownin’ far more entertaining , though she smirks -- a small tug at the corner of her lips , subtle yet undeniable --- regardless.

silently she chides herself. the outcome of this interrogation was too important to allow distractions.

❝ --- head in the game , reaper. ❞ this wasn’t quite what she’d had in mind when she’d accepted his assistance, an extra pair of eyes and the brawn to match , he'd said , but severen was nothing if not consistent in his unpredictability , a loose canon at the worst of times, always.  so really, it's her own fault. she knows better.

❝ don’t want our new friend here to think we’re not professionals. ❞ she offers the man , bound and uncomfortably gagged , wolves licking at his heel and a vampire awaiting permission to feast — a hungry smile, as she leans down to meet him at eye level. emerald green boring into panicked brown. ❝ now where were we, ❞  a snap of her fingers and she’s back on track , ❝ .... you were going to tell me where to find shamura ---- or the last remaining moments of your life are going to be excruciating. ❞ that was a promise.

[ulfhrafnx]

the club after close on any given night. 😂💀