#vue landing

[burinazar]

also for some reason i had misremembered the time skip between their uni years and elphie and fiyero reuniting and getting together as like eight or ten years instead of three? (i was probably conflating it with her time in the mauntery and thinking of them as comparable lengths idk)

Elphie being like 21 or something (i forget if they said directly. i am skim-rereading parts right now since i need to finish before the loan lapses lol and will read more thoroughly after purchasing a copy later. i was really a dope for leaving my physical one in america) when this part happens instead of her later twenties is sadder :(( so young...

the feeling of being caught unawares by this is kind of like what i feel when i occasionally think about the fact tsukushi probably (?) intends ganja era vueko a good bit younger than i imagine her, like maybe nineteen or twenty (my vue is a few years older than that). so young ... to deal with all that ...

[fleckcmscott]

Rocks and Shoals

Summary: Arthur asks for Y/N's help. She finds more than she bargained for.

Words: 4,844

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Discussions of abuse

A/N: This piece stems from a request made by @tally-kiza. Cal wanted a story in which Arthur meets Bruce Wayne. I don't think this was what she had in mind 😂, but I like when requests take me somewhere unexpected. The writing process on this one was harder than it's been in the last couple of years. Hopefully, you all find it interesting. 💜

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

June's warmth rolled through Arthur as he and Y/N strolled through Shreck's bustling aisles. The department store's Get Your Summer Rolling sale was going strong. Twenty-five percent off entire departments, from VHS head cleaning kits, to bicycle training wheels, to side tables made of rattan.

Filled with want instead of need (in particular, the want of a date), he was the one to suggest this outing. Before he could finish the invitation, she'd accepted and added her own. BonBon's Bread & Butter, a bakery she'd turned him onto that his old wallet had ignored. The makings of a marvelous afternoon.

A display of dresses halted him, a prism of color on a four-way rack. He picked up the one that matched his work vest. Mustard yellow, a boat neck that wouldn't quite dare to slip from her shoulder, cap sleeves with white piping. A skirt whose flare felt carefree.

"What about this?" he asked. He held it up and out, closed one eye to create a rough silhouette over her form. The hem would end two inches above her knee.

She turned to him, tapping her chin. "That's a little young for me."

"Well, I'm a little young for you, but we go well together." Fresh color brightened her cheeks, egged him on to tease her further. "You'd look cute in it."

Giggling, she took the dress. Gave it a glance before returning it to the rack. He opened his mouth to protest but bit his tongue when she draped the dusky rose option over her forearm. Her pupils had gone wide and flirty, utterly in love. "I'll try it on but no promises."

The urge to pat her bottom seized him, a delicate caress on feminine curves. But in the middle of a department store swarmed by deal seekers, that'd be a tad forward. He settled for cupping her hip and kissing her instead.

Shopping bag in one hand, hers in the other, they started up the sidewalk towards Landing Plaza to catch the blue line. Y/N's pace slowed as a newsstand came into view. Forest green, made of chipped plywood, the place sold all the news fit for print and a helping of unfit on the side. The owner's attention see-sawed between a regular who'd brought a thermos of coffee and a black and white TV showing tennis on mute. He gruffed good naturedly around the ball of tobacco in his cheek.

A family portrait displayed by a carton of cinnamon Certs stole Arthur's attention.

"Gotham's First Family!" shouted Vue magazine. Cursive promises strutted across the glossy paper: exclusive pictorials of the mayoral election. A tour of the heretofore unseen East Wing of Wayne Manor. From Martha's kitchen to yours, a recipe for lobster thermidor.

Knees splayed like a king on a throne, Thomas Wayne dominated a white, wingback chair. Martha stood at his side, a hand unmarred by dishwashing placed demurely on his shoulder. Just behind them and to the right, Bruce sat astride a large rocking horse, nearly the size of a horse itself. His expression was as austere as a father's affection.

The warmth of summer transformed into the familiar flames of fury that made Arthur hate everyone in the world - himself most of all.

Growing up a without a dad was a maw whose jagged teeth scraped his soul. Carved cuts when he longed for advice from a parent, graved gashes when he'd needed a father to have his back. The men Penny had dated split before Arthur could build attachments out of hope. Murray's love had been a mirage.

And then there were her incessant letters to the Waynes.

When he'd finally read one, he'd been stupid enough to believe her tale of a love affair and hopped a train to the happy family reunion he'd always wanted. But no fine robe came his way, no fattened calf was slaughtered. The butler had stared at him like he was a ghost. Declared it a lie, laughed and called him a fool.

But he'd known Penny's name. He'd known Penny's name.

Arthur's eyes met Mr. Wayne's on the magazine, green ice on grey steel. If his father had accepted him, rescued him from the depths, maybe he could have been the kind of person worthy of love and respect. He would've finished school, had his own room, a little brother to teach about the world. He wouldn't have had to learn to be hungry. He wouldn't have his condition.

He wouldn't carry the pain of knowing there were things he never wanted to remember.

Y/N grabbed the latest TV Guide (next week's hadn't arrived) and paid exact change. He studied the fall of her hair, her warm smile when she asked if he was all set. At her side, he was learning to accept himself, to like himself for who he really was. But even she couldn't grind the whirring gears of his mind to a halt.

Because part of acceptance was knowing the truth.

~~~~~

The bedside clock advanced another minute. 6:32 PM and Arthur still wasn't home.

They'd split on the subway. With each stop, with every passenger filing in and out, the larger his nostrils had flared. The tighter his grip on the stanchion had become, white-knuckled and trembling. Signs of stress she knew well but hadn't matched their wonderful day. She'd put her chin on his shoulder, asked if he was all right. His reply? A curt nod she hadn't bought.

As they'd disembarked to transfer to the red line, he'd shoved his hands in his pockets. Stammered that he needed to clear his head, that he'd walk the rest of the way home. No, she didn't need to tag along. It was nothing, really. Don't worry, he'd be fine.

That was over two hours ago. She'd done the dishes, vacuumed the apartment, sprayed blue gel in the toilet and scrubbed the bathroom sink. Tuned into a rerun she didn't enjoy without him and the evening news. The seconds ticked by ever slower.

Pushing out a sigh, she plopped on her side of the bed and grabbed her new dress. Being a fretful wife was about as useful as a teabag in coffee. Arthur was an adult who handled himself well. He knew this city better than she did. Maybe he'd bumped into a friend or dropped by Pogo's for a good laugh. Wherever he was, he'd be home soon.

As if she'd summoned him, there came the click of the front door.

"I'm in here," she called. Shoes clunked to the floor, keys clinked in the catch-all dish on the counter. Hands folded together, he came to lean on the doorway. Judging by his lowered shoulders, a third of his tension had melted away. She offered a welcoming smile, an invitation to shed the rest. "Did the fresh air do you good?"

"Yeah." Equal parts unconvincing and unconvinced. He went to the other side of the bed and unzipped his fly. Sat behind her so they were back-to-back. "I need your help."

"With what?" She flipped the dress's sales tag and got a pair of small scissors from the top drawer of her nightstand.

Cotton sleeves rustled down his arms. "Can you- can you find out if I was adopted?"

A metallic snip bounced off his question. The loose tag fell to the floor. "Why are you asking that now?"

"With Thomas Wayne all over the news...I wanna know."

Bitterness slithered up her throat, chafing and pungent. In the past year and half, he'd barely mentioned the Waynes. And Penny only when dealing with the nursing home. From the spartan details he'd shared of his therapy sessions, Y/N had thought he was well on his way to moving on. A terribly naive assumption, she realized. One made because she so badly wanted it for him.

She'd been trying to follow her joke of a new year's resolution to mute the TV whenever that asshole appeared. To read half the articles she used to, the bare minimum to glean what Thomas Wayne being mayor could mean for her adopted hometown. She'd had a hairbreadth's of success.

But failing at derailing the Wayne case, failing Arthur and Ms. McPhee, every tenant who'd been displaced, continued to bruise her heart. Good Morning, Gotham's breathless coverage of the groundbreaking ceremony for the Wayne Medical Center - on Anderson Avenue, no less - had resulted in a stiff neck and swallowed tears. Digging into whatever connection he believed he might have would keep that front and center.

She folded the dress into thirds in her lap. Rubbed the collar between thumb and forefinger. "I don't think I'm the best person to help with this."

"What? Why?"

"My access to family matter records changed when I left my old firm."

"Well, couldn't you try?"

"Maybe you could talk to Dr. Ludlow about it?"

"She doesn't do investigations."

His rasp of desperation whittled at her resolve. Yet, she had to remain steadfast. For her own sake. She said, "Not stopping the Waynes is a regret I will have to live with for the rest of my life. I can't get involved with them right now."

"But I'm just asking you to do your job."

"It's not the same. The clients at my office," she said, twisting to face him. "I don't know them. There's a professional distance. With you - and with Waynes - there is no distance."

"My mother was a really fucked up person. She only dated abusive guys."

A wince at the anguish passing his lips. A hairline crack shot through her certainty.

"You don't understand what I've been through," he continued. "Your parents loved you. You had your father. He- He was a doctor."

Hurt sliced through her, sharp and winding. He'd always highlighted their similarities, enjoyed exploring their differences. Not once had he treated them as a fault.

She laid a hand on his back. His ribs quaked beneath her fingers, a seismometer about to hit 7.3. "You've dealt with more than anyone should have to. But I'm not-"

"No!" he cried, and leapt away. Clad in his briefs, completely bared before her. His face was a glare of anger and agony. "I ask for one thing, and you're going to say no? I can't believe it! I- I-" Fists clenched at his sides in a way that alerted but did not threaten. "I'm tired of loving someone I hate!"

He fled. The bathroom door slammed behind him.

Y/N's heart hammered and ached in equal measure. She bent to pick up the fallen price tag. Crumpled it in her hand. She stood to hang the dress in the closet; it brushed Arthur's maroon suit. She ran her fingers down the lapel, recalled his appearance on Live! With Murray Franklin. The joke about Wayne tower, how he'd wished the bully of a TV host was his father.

What else lurked beneath Penny's delusions or Thomas Wayne's sins?

The harder she would try to ignore Arthur's question, the more it would persist, a mosquito bite on her back she couldn't scratch. Whether adopted or not, he'd felt the sting of rejection, and her sensible response was a rejection again. The equivalent of leaving him with a pamphlet and a Take Care of Yourself.

She'd never been good at minding her own business. Why beyond cowardice should she start now?

~~~~~

Blackness enveloped him, a thick, viscous fog. He could not see. He could not hear. He could not smell. He could not taste. He could not scream. Manacles shackled him. No, that was wrong. His wrists were loose, but he could not move them. They were held by an invisible force. They were bound by unknowledge.

Arthur startled awake with a jerk. Breath choked him, the collision of a gasp and a sob. He kicked the covers off his legs. Toenails scratched polyester. He squeezed both wrists. Free. Blessedly free.

He reached to his left towards Y/N. Fingers dug into cool, empty sheets. Boosting himself to his elbows, he squinted into the dark. No sign of her, no whispered comforts, no light beneath the door. A sigh stuttered his stomach. He sank back onto the mattress.

After their argument, the evening hadn't improved. The Silent Treatment wasn't intended; he'd hated it when Penny had given it to him. But he couldn't look at Y/N, had had to keep himself from lashing out by staying a mile away. He'd fled to the basement to do laundry and smoke. Skipped dinner to camp in his writing nook. Snubbed her offer to talk and scrawled seething across four wide-ruled pages. When she'd gone to bed, the irritation in her clipped night made him roll his eyes.

He folded the comforter in his arms, held it fiercely to his chest. His past was not her fault. Yes, she was supposed to be there for him. But yelling when she'd refused to help had been unfair. (He was grateful to have grown enough to understand that.) If she asked for a favor, she always gave him explicit permission to say no. A sign of respect and love. He owed her that, at least.

He'd bring his journal and thoughts to therapy - and ask how to handle being disappointed by his wife.

But there was something he had to do first.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulled his pajamas over his hips, tightened the drawstring. He cracked the door a sliver and peeked out. Harsh fluorescent spilled from both ends of the kitchen. He took measured steps across the cream carpet.

Y/N stood at the counter, studying the pages of the Gotham Journal and sipping at her oversized mug. Her bathrobe was cinched at her hips, her feet bare on the linoleum. Though it was the middle of the night, her postured carried the composure of a professional woman.

She didn't look his way.

Pressing his lips together in a side-to-side motion, he inched to stand behind her. Another sip and turn of the page. Lightly, he fingered a loose tendril of her hair. Her weight shifted to her heels. He ghosted a palm down her shoulder. Wrapped a loose arm about her waist.

Their lips parted at the same time.

"I'm sorry I-"

"-I'll do it."

~~~~~

City Hall was a dead end.

Flicking her fingernails, Y/N waited on a split canvas chair. Fourteen minutes had passed since Darrell from Vital Records had noted her driver's license, her marriage certificate as proof of kinship, and headed to the basement archive for Arthur's birth certificate.

There was a mural on the wall to her right. Twelve feet high and art deco, its modern lines and bold colors portrayed the Eliots - one of Gotham's five founding families - stepping off a boat into a promising, prosperous future. Her gaze followed its clean, simple brushstrokes. Arthur and Y/N Elliot. Arthur and Y/N Cobblepot. Arthur and Y/N Wayne...

She swung her foot back and forth. If she did find proof that Thomas Wayne had abandoned a son. What was she supposed to do? Call into GCR's Let's Breakfast to offer an expose? She'd be dismissed as a crank. Besides, she preferred Arthur and Y/N Fleck to them all. A life filled with love and laughter instead of high society functions and playing nice with people she couldn't stand.

"Sorry for the wait, ma'am," Darrell said, appearing behind the clerk's window. His hands were annoyingly empty. "There're no records with that name. You sure your husband was born in Gotham?"

"Yes," she said. She reached the counter in two strides. "Would an adoption have changed it?"

"Into an amended birth certificate. The original would've been sealed, but there's no note of that, either." He leaned forward, his forehead nearly touching the glass. "There might've been a clerical error. His name might've been misspelled. Records from back then? I've seen it a lot. If you get more information - where his mother was born, his father's name - we can take another look."

His father's name. Despite Darrell's kindness, it felt like a cruel joke.

"Could you check for his mother's birth certificate?" Y/N asked. "Cross-reference it somehow? She was born here, too."

"I'd need proof of kinship to her, not your husband. Sorry." And he really did look it.

Adjusting the purse on her shoulder, she sorted through her mental filing cabinet, searching for another path. "What if he needed it for a job or to get a license?"

"He'd have to come down here for a Letter of No Record. Tell him to bring his social security card and a piece of mail to prove residency. We can use your marriage certificate as a third verification. Central office would need a couple weeks for processing, but it shouldn't be a problem. Let me get you the form."

Though she wouldn't use it, she folded it into fourths. A Letter of No Record. A Letter of No Name. She offered a disappointed smile and a quiet thanks.

The next morning, Y/N slipped out of a staff meeting to make a call. (Wanda took good notes, and, if Phil came to shove, she could blame it on her monthly and never be bothered again.) Depending on the circumstances, either the district or probate court handled adoptions.

The clerks at district court knew her too well for her to sniff around on a case with her last name. Even if she introduced herself as Louise Harris - her middle and maiden - they could very well recognize her voice. So, she dialed probate as Y/N Thompson.

"It would be between 1949 and 1952. A social services case, listed under Penny Fleck, regarding her son Arthur. Same last name." She turned her pencil over, slid her fingers down it, turned it over again. "Yes, I realize that. But if I could just get a timeline of what happened. What's the soonest that could- This afternoon? That'd be great. Thank you. Here's my direct line."

But by quitting time, no one had called back.

When she got home, there was a note from Arthur on the counter. He was on a job, dancing his heart out across from Amusement Mile's gate. She poured herself a merlot and settled on the couch, frustration settling in her that she'd managed to uncover absolutely nothing. She swished the rich, smooth liquid between her teeth.

For the safety of the child and the accused, child protective matters were confidential. Courts often forwent a transcript of the proceedings, and some judges held hearings in their chambers instead of a courtroom. The hush hushness she'd encountered would make sense if the rules had been followed.

But there'd been media coverage of the charges against Penny. Of the horrors done to her son. Maybe Gotham's privacy statutes hadn't yet existed, or the facts of the case had been leaked. Either way, the story had been too lurid for anyone to give a damn.

That train of thought urged Y/N upwards and to the bedroom. She stood before the bureau. Crossed her arms over her breasts. Eyed the bottom drawer. In its back corner, wrapped in sweatpants under a retina-searing paisley skirt her sister had mailed her for Christmas, was the Arkham file.

Out of a desire to respect Arthur's privacy - and to spare herself details she hadn't wanted to know - she'd read just enough to get an understanding of why he'd stolen it. What had wounded him, what he'd gone through. Now all other avenues to answers had been closed, with no detour signs to follow. This was the only option left.

She went to the kitchen and grabbed the phone.

"I'm about to do something stupid," she said.

Patricia replied without pause. "Need a hand?"

~~~~~

Bathed in the amber light of a globe pendant lamp, Y/N sat at Patricia's dining table. Penny's file was a specter on the blue and white enamel, a lifetime of sorrow shrunk to a compact two inches. Eyes red and puffy, nose clogged and stuffy, Y/N closed the folder. Her palm lingered on the stained cardstock.

She'd been aware of the outlines of abuse. The filth and the radiator. The brutality and neglect Arthur had survived and defied. The system that'd forced a boy to care for the woman who hadn't fulfilled a parent's most sacred duty: to keep her child safe. The rest had been a murky wetland.

Tonight, she'd been foolish enough to read every page.

Once, in the heat of love and aching for him to take her, she's squeezed his ass. He'd laughed a sultry laugh, murmured admonishments he hadn't meant into her mouth. When he'd kept on teasing, that squeeze had become a slap. Normal, bedroom fun with the man she adored. The man she burned for.

The entire mood had turned on its head.

He'd frozen, started at her. The look of a man learning the word betrayal. Scrambling off her, he'd yanked on his drawers and rasped. "Never hit me again." Then he'd locked himself in the bathroom. A clue she'd merely scratched the surface of what had happened to him.

Now she'd bitten an apple from the Tree of Knowledge, and the full extent of use and misuse had appeared to her.

"I called the district court," Patricia said from the kitchen across the way. "The only document in the file was an order returning Arthur to his mother in 1954." She retrieved a bottle of White Horse whiskey from the top of the refrigerator. "Does he really think Thomas Wayne is his father?"

"That's what Penny told him. That they had an affair, and Thomas broke it off."

Patricia poured doubles into two tumblers. She did not add ice. "What do you think?"

"It wouldn't be the first time a rich guy slept with the help." Nor would he be the first rich guy to cover it up.

Penny's medical file having more legal records than the courts was odd. The Permission to Screen for Reports of Abuse and Neglect and the adoption application felt too tidy, as if placed there to be found. In the transcript of her interview with Dr. Stoner, she'd claimed they were a fabrication courtesy of Thomas. Y/N had seen how powerful the Waynes were, how their foundation could manipulate a system for a guaranteed win.

Then again, Penny wasn't exactly a reliable witness. She hadn't heard Arthur cries, said she'd done nothing wrong. Even with all her boyfriend had done to her. All he had done to Arthur...

Y/N blinked against the words seared into her mind. "Why was he given back to her? He could've had a good home."

"It's hard to place older children, especially boys. People think they'll start fights or burn the place down." Patricia set both glasses on the table and sat across from her.

"She used to tell him that God put him on this earth to bring joy and laughter. That that's why he has his neurological condition." Y/N spun her glass in a slow circle. "He took care of her for twenty years - twenty years. And he based his life on her lies. Being a party clown, getting into comedy."

"What she did was terrible, but there are worse things for a man to want than to be kind."

Y/N bit her lip until it throbbed with her pulse. "I'm not any closer to the answers he wanted. I wish I knew how to help him deal with this, but I'm no expert." She wasn't great at dealing with her own baggage.

"You're an expert in Arthur," Patricia said, taking her hand. "When it comes to him, you always figure it out. You two give Robert and me a run for our money."

Turning her hand to hold Patricia's, Y/N breathed a little easier. She trusted her best friend's judgment. With a modicum of effort, she'd extend that trust to herself. She swirled the auburn liquid in her glass, downed it in one swoop. "I'll have to write Penny more often."

Patricia put on her Why on Earth face. "What the hell for?"

A lick of defiance rose in Y/N's chest. She grasped it and met her friend's stare. "Because her son is a wonderful man, and I need her to know that."

~~~~~

Being an expert in her husband didn't halt the fluttery feeling in Y/N's stomach.

She'd made a bulleted list of what to say and shorthand tips on how to say it. Strove to find the balance between the professional and the personal. To do better than a pamphlet. Arthur's weekly appointment with Dr. Ludlow was at nine tomorrow morning. If telling him what she had and hadn't discovered went sideways, he'd only have to wait fourteen hours to talk to her.

She stirred a pitcher of powered iced tea and filled their usual glasses. Tucked her legal pad and the Arkham file under her arm. On her way to the living room, she glanced out the window. Heavy rain, forecasted to continue through midnight. When he'd brought the file over, he'd been drenched while she'd stayed dry. Now they'd weather the downpour together.

Arthur browsed the TV Guide on the sofa, underlining listings. "The Verdict is the Friday Night Feature on GBS," he said. "It got four stars here. Do you wanna watch it?"

"But you'll miss Love Boat."

"It's just a rerun. I can record it, anyway."

"It's a date." She held a glass out to him. A moment's hesitation before she straightened herself to her full, courtroom posture. "Speaking of verdicts, I finished looking at what you asked, about Penny and Thomas Wayne. And you. Do you want to go over it?"

His gaze dragged to meet hers. "Uh, yeah. Okay." He took the drink and slid off the couch to sit cross-legged at the coffee table. She settled at the end, diagonally across from him, and laid the folder on the maple surface. "You- you kept that?" he asked.

"It felt too important to throw out. But I should've told you. We can put it with our other documents. If you don't like that idea, you can do what you think is best." With that, she opened the file.

She'd placed the pertinent documents on top, the photographs of Arthur's injuries and sensational headlines at the bottom. She angled her legal pad so he could follow along.

"The Department of Vital Records couldn't find your birth certificate. Adopted or not, everyone should have one. Any social services records from when you were a boy are sealed. Without a subpoena - that's a court order that compels testimony or information - they can't be accessed."

She indicated the Child Adoption Application. "This certificate has the city's seal, and the orphanage's director signed it. If you look closely, it says it's for temporary custody. A single woman today would have a difficult time getting permission to foster a child, much less adopt one. Especially one with her psychiatric history. It wouldn't've have been any easier in the forties - I couldn't get my own credit card until 1974.

"If she worked for the Waynes, they may have helped her. But they also could've fabricated this to help themselves. For people like them, a well-placed call is worth more than a hundred pages of statutes."

A long, slow blink. He wavered before managing to speak. "What does that mean? What's the truth?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry, Arthur."

He nodded, his mouth a straight line. Even with his closed expression, she could sense his vulnerability.

There was one indelible truth she was certain of. She took a deep, pained breath. "You were right. I don't understand what you've been through. Only that it was too much."

His gaze fell away, shaded by secrets he shouldn't have to keep. Weary cheeks puffed in and out, in and out. He pulled the legal pad closer, scratched lines into circles into spirals into screams.

Contrition moved aside, making room for conviction. "You did nothing wrong. Nothing that happened - none of it - was your fault." With each word, a raw harshness threatened her low voice. "You're so strong. I'm proud of you for being-"

"Please stop," he said. Sniffling, he hiccuped a laugh and wiped at his nose. His knuckles came away wet. "I never asked to be good at taking a hit."

She nodded an apology, a sad smile trembling over her lips. She reached under the table. Fingertips brushed the wrinkled fabric covering his knee. "You can tell me whatever you need."

A fraught half-whisper. "I can't."

Scooting closer, she grasped his wet hand and folded their fingers together. Kissed his shoulder and rested her chin on it. Took his pain and returned it to him as love. "I'll be here when you can."

Raindrops clattered the windows. A streak of lightening brightened the sky, a spark against the dreariness of the storm.

Scratches slowed to scribbles, Arthur leaned his head to hers.

~~~~~

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[whitherwanderer]

Galena, a Rusty Reforger & Pyrite, a Deliberate Deadeye feat. @shroudandsands

In one of worlds fourteenfold, a hyune reforger scales the crags of Alexandria's cliffs and ruins in search of precious electrope, artifacts, and other reusable materials. A scope is trained on him, a voice in his ear, coolly reminding him to watch his footing (as if it needed to be said).

The spotter is an ex-hunter who keeps the levin-cursed monsters and defective sentries off his back with a careful eye and a dead aim. She's also his wife, which makes it that much harder for her to watch him test his scavenging prowess over the deep canyons and crumbling spires that scar the land. Trust him as she does, she has her reasons to be wary.

Galena's methods are unusual. Instead of combing the ground, he climbs. The old kingdom's ruins hide valuable artifacts and electrope caches that would be out of reach for most, but more worrying is his choice not to wear a regulator despite the many obvious dangers. Among the reforgers, it's not wholly unusual for someone to refuse a regulator, but those who know the two hyune know well: it's not a choice made lightly.

———

Deep in the heart of Everkeep, Pyrite stalks the alleys of Solution Nine with a portion of the materials her husband gleaned from the old kingdom. It's how he can offer his support for the organization Pyrite now dedicates her time and talents to.

And an ex-hunter always finds ways to keep herself sharp; sentries vanish, dismantled and sold for parts in True Vue's less reputable markets. Weapons from the manufactories on the lower floors go missing and wind up in rebel hands. Credits grease the palms of the right people for the right intelligence and the doors of high clearance warehouses are left unlocked—by accident, of course.

As an agent for the rebel group Oblivion, the regulator Pyrite wears is a compromise allowing her to take advantage of Everkeep's systems while avoiding suspicion. But for all its conveniences, the regulator is also a grave reminder. Should Galena's hands ever slip, all she'll have of him is the recordings and images hidden away on encrypted data shards—assurance that they'd keep their promise never to forget again*.

———

No mourning, and yet no relief from the aching holes in their memories. All they have is the hints of a loss whose shape they can identify by feeling around its dark edges: an empty room, a closet full of clothes too small for either of them. A name that Pyrite herself chose, always lingering in the back of her mind but slipping through it like a sieve. An image of shade—a face that Galena chases through dreams and wakes up with no recollection of.

Loss enough to take immortality and toss it into a canyon. Pain enough to use that immortality as a weapon against the system that stole from them something so precious it becomes their reason and their resolve. Something that would be worth dismantling a miracle. *OOC Note: This was drafted before the Arcadion raids came out, which answers a critical question I had about the regulator mechanics. A person wearing a regulator will, in fact, remember someone who does not wear one after their death. So that final bit in Pyrite's section is wrong! Oh well.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Léon Cauvy, Port d’Alger, vue de la ville (1922) :: Robert Scott Horton

* * * *

 [Adrienne Rich’s] “(Dedications)” carries with it an idea of poetry as a dialogue between strangers, a refuge or shelter for loneliness, and a consolation in the time of dire need. It is like a flare sent up in the darkness. It exists for you, whoever you are, and I know you will find it. 

Edward Hirsch, from 100 Poems to Break Your Heart (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2021)

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129. Dedications - Adrienne Rich

[From the last section of the title poem in An Atlas of the Difficult World by Adrienne Rich]

XIII (DEDICATIONS)

I know you are reading this poem late, before leaving your office of the one intense yellow lamp-spot and the darkening window in the lassitude of a building faded to quiet long after rush-hour. I know you are reading this poem standing up in a bookstore far from the ocean on a grey day of early spring, faint flakes driven across the plains’ enormous spaces around you. I know you are reading this poem in a room where too much has happened for you to bear where the bedclothes lie in stagnant coils on the bed and the open valise speaks of flight but you cannot leave yet. I know you are reading this poem as the underground train loses momentum and before running up the stairs toward a new kind of love your life has never allowed. I know you are reading this poem by the light of the television screen where soundless images jerk and slide while you wait for the newscast from the intifada. I know you are reading this poem in a waiting-room of eyes met and unmeeting, of identity with strangers. I know you are reading this poem by fluorescent light in the boredom and fatigue of the young who are counted out, count themselves out, at too early an age. I know you are reading this poem through your failing sight, the thick lens enlarging these letters beyond all meaning yet you read on because even the alphabet is precious. I know you are reading this poem as you pace beside the stove warming milk, a crying child on your shoulder, a book in your hand because life is short and you too are thirsty. I know you are reading this poem which is not in your language guessing at some words while others keep you reading and I want to know which words they are. I know you are reading this poem listening for something, torn between bitterness and hope turning back once again to the task you cannot refuse. I know you are reading this poem because there is nothing else left to read there where you have landed, stripped as you are.

[pure-ablution]

Kitty's mega magazine list?

New and old, from all corners of the globe.

Vogue, Tatler, Harper’s Bazaar, Numéro, Point de Vue, Paris Match, Purple, Arterritory, The Idler, Jalouse, Peddler Journal, Madame Figaro, Areté, Communio, Reorient, Current Obsession, Lapham's Quarterly, l’Officiel, Cabana, Falstaff, World of Interiors, Garland, Madame, Դյութէ, Parabola, Archipelago, Fare, The Lamp, Popeye, Apollo, The Scofield, Bidoun, Little White Lies, تندیس, Neue Rundschau, Vestoj, Lunch Lady, JCK, The Gentlewoman, FMR, The Hedgehog Review, Magnifissance, Rigas Laiks (Русское издание), Strange Attractor Journal, Profil, Gnosis, The Peak, Emel, Kunstlicht, Plough Quarterly, خردنامه صدرا, Obscura (HK), Reliquiae, The Fence, N+1, Playboy (for the articles, I’m serious), Revizor, Zyzzyva, The Paris Review, Seismopolite, نامه فرهنگ, EastEast, Dappled Things, London Review of Books, In Situ, The Face, Sufi, Wilder Quarterly, Gramarye, Uppercase, The Point, Connaissance des Arts, Archivist Addendum, قلمرو, La Gazette Drouot, Gastronomica, Mood, Ювелирное обозрение, Minerva, Suitcase, Lula, Modern Age, Orientations, Holiday, Lux, Lares, Театръ, The Field, Magnificat, Weltkunst, (امروز) زنان, Piecework, PpR Journal, Magyar Krónika, Slightly Foxed, First Things, Sinn und Form, Whetstone, Ինքնագիր, A Magazine Curated By, Ambrosia, Abraxas, Merian, Antiquariato, حرفه: هنرمند, Konfekt, بخارا, Elite, Surface, Second Spring, Prestige, Grey, Gafencu, Epicure, Diapason, The World of Fine Wine, BranD, Image, Decanter, Rustica, Aramco World, Kinfolk, Ruminate, Al-Jadid, Luncheon, Noble Rot, Blau International, The New Criterion, Nez, Parnass, Mozgó Világ, Wespennest, Криткика, PPC, Sacred Architecture Journal, Studio International, Gagarin, Country Life, Res Publica Nowa, Seitenblicke, Kunst & Auktionen, Flavour and Fragrance Journal, Springerin, W, Paper, Home & Garden, The Lady, Threads, Eaten, Nők Lapja, Good Housekeeping, Town & Country, Műértő, Lettre International, Diva, The White Review, Table, Frieze, Artforum, Texte zur Kunst, Cartography, Radio Times, e-flux journal, Cabinet, The New York Review of Books, Fashion Studies Journal, Encens, Apartamento, The Gourmand, Parkett, Road to Emmaus, Toothache, The Carton, Merkur, Granta, The Believer, The Threepenny Review, Búvópatak, Selvedge, Embroidery, The Cleaver Quarterly, Divine Ascent, مناظر, Revue des deux Mondes, Monocle, Private Eye, New Eastern Europe, Life, Nest, Architectural Digest, Sacred Web, Servus in Stadt & Land, Steppe, Звезда Востока, Hali, Marg, هيا, VO+, Burlington Magazine, Baku, The Plant, White Fungus, The Alpine Review, Lodestars Anthology, The Weekender, TLS.

Plus all the main auction house magazines, the little zines published by students in my university city, and the journals of the societies I’m in.

[arypurple]

Mon point de vue sur Stella

Je décide de m'arrêter sur le personnage de Stella dans Helluva Boss. Dès leur enfance, Stella et Stolas étaient destinés à se marier dans le but de donner un héritier aux Goetia. Certes, Stella est autant victime que Stolas de ce mariage arrangé, mais dès qu'on voit le père de Stolas présenter une photo à son fils où on voit une jeune Stella en train d'étrangler des chiots, on peut déjà voir que quelque chose ne va pas du tout avec elle... Pourtant, il y a des fans qui excusent son comportement avec comme argument "Son mari l'a trompée, elle est en colère, c'est normal.". La tromperie, c'est douloureux, surtout quand on aime la personne. Sauf que Stella n'a jamais aimé Stolas et il en va de même pour lui. D'ailleurs, ce qui la gêne, ce n'est même pas l'infidélité de son mari, mais plutôt le fait que son mari l'ait trompée avec un imp, un membre de la caste inférieure. Stella est une femme froide, cruelle, hautaine et égoïste. Elle maltraitait déjà son mari bien avant cette histoire de tromperie. D'après le réflexe que Stolas a eu quand sa femme était sur le point de le frapper et le visage étonné de cette dernière quand il a arrêté sa main in extremis, on se rend compte qu'elle avait déjà pour habitude de le frapper. Aussi, elle ne se gêne pas pour se moquer de lui et le rabaisser, comme on peut le voir pour cette fête de "non-divorce" qu'elle a organisé où elle ne cesse de se moquer de lui devant des amis. Même que Stella dit aux autres que pendant leur nuit de noces, qu'il restait là assis à fixer le mur et que c'est elle qui a dû manœuvrer toute seule afin de concevoir leur enfant, impliquant clairement qu'elle l'a violé. Et pourtant, malgré tout ce qu'il subi, Stolas encaisse, il prend sur lui. Tout ça dans le but d'offrir une enfance normale à leur fille. Et on peut dire que ça marche quand même bien pour Octavia car quand son père la suit dans un manège et lui demande pourquoi elle est fâchée, elle lui dit qu'elle aimait venir à Loo Loo Land à l'époque où ses parents ne se disputaient pas et ne se détestaient pas, ce qui implique qu'elle n'a pas remarqué à quel point la vie de couple de ses parents était chaotique. Il y a même une photo de la famille réunie ensemble et heureuse, mais évidemment Octavia est la seule qui est vraiment heureuse dans ce moment. Et Stella ne semble pas vraiment impliquée dans l'éducation de sa fille. Elle ne lui demande pas comment elle se sent par rapport à cette situation, elle concentre ses efforts uniquement pour cracher sur Stolas. Même que dans l'enfance de leur fille, elle s'en fichait et ordonne sèchement à son mari d'aller la voir quand leur fille pleure à cause d'un cauchemar. Aimer un méchant, c'est normal, je vais pas cracher sur les fans de Stella. J'apprécie bien le personnage de Valentino qui n'est pas du tout un enfant de cœur et qui mériterait de se faire renverser dix fois par un camion-citerne. Mais je trouve que c'est malsain de justifier des comportements plus que discutables de certains vilains.

[mythriteshah]

A Scintillant Spectacle

"Did you hear?" asked a young Hyune male to an Eldite woman with whom he was conversing, "There's been a whole slew of challengers wanting a piece of the action in the Arcadion since it reopened!"

"As if I'd miss a single beat of the know!" the Eldite replied with a chuckle, strolling down True Vue amidst a crowd of other Alexandrians. "I hear tonight's match wasn't planned, but it should be nothing the Gem Lancer can't handle!"

Solution Nine - the popular residential district within Everkeep - was apparently abuzz with rumors of an upcoming shotgun match with one of Alexandria's renowned fighters taking on a yet-unknown combatant. The sheltered people living within the electrope dome were practically starving for entertainment - any means of escape from the recent tragedy of their beloved Queen Sphene. With the revival of the Arcadion (pun not intended), however, that need would be assuaged. Along with new connections beyond the dome being made possible, the Alexandrians now had the opportunity to explore a realm as foreign to them as it would be for those coming into Yyasulani. And whilst some embraced this monumental shift, others could not dare to turn down a spectacle of martial and magical prowess the likes that only the Ascension Arcadia Championship could provide.

Within the confines of the great tower which loomed over True Vue, a woman slowly made her way down a long, dark tunnel, her strides slow, confident, and dignified - the hallmarks not unlike that of a princess's. As her footfalls echoed throughout this long hallway, the quiet roar of cheering could be heard as she proceeded closer and closer towards the blinding light at its end.

Save for the ubiquitous regulator resting upon her left temple, this Hyune woman was of fair skin and sported a maroon-and-ivory corset dress, with puffy sleeves and two light purple swirly bracelets that traveled up her forearms. She also had upon her head a light purple headband tiara with a large red jewel that appeared to be a jasper. She had wavy, pale blonde hair that trailed at the hips, with a single long curl draped over her right shoulder; thin, ruby red lips, and orbs of amber or a citron orange, with eyeshadow to match.

"How audacious - that people from beyond the dome would be so brazen as to challenge Alexandria's finest warriors with no enhancements. Well, I suppose it will do for a good show. If they wish to risk life and limb before an audience of thousands, then more power to them. I'll ensure this upstart's arc comes to a jewel-spangled conclusion!" the woman mused inside her head, a smirk creeping along her features. The cheering of the crowd grew louder as she neared the blinding light at the tunnel's end, letting it envelop and invigorate her, the crowd's cries reaching a crescendo as she crossed the threshold...

[The day prior...]

Outside of Everkeep, the cacophony of levin striking the ground and pylons filled the air. Far beyond the Ward - the great electrope wall which split the eastern and western reaches of Yyasulani - stood what remained of Alexandria, with the former royal palace in the horizon, now lying within a crater of lightning which seemed to crackle and churn endlessly. Amidst these submerged and derelict ruins were scenes of battle - broken husks of what was once automated sentries, now rendered defunct and haywire due to... neglect? Errors in code? Whatever the case, there were a fair number of them strewn about, and the sharp sound of steel against steel was heard as another would be cut down before ultimately being defenestrated from a worn-down two-story house, landing on the submerged ground in a chorus of clanking metal.

This particular manse was one of the more fortunate to withstand both time and calamity, though its interior left much to be desired. The roof was kept mostly intact, allowing little light within the attic. When the sentry was sent crashing below, however, a bright flash shot out from the broken window, as if yearning to be free. The one who bore witness to this was a lone Milalla, garbed in the kind of attire in which someone of a noble house would be seen, with a large capeline hat of royal blue adorning her head.

Resting on her hip was a grimoire of peculiar make, boasting a bluish covering, and within its contents were the etchings and geometries of an involute tome. Disregarding the mechanical corpse, she would remove this grimoire from its bindings and slowly remove the quill. A moment later, three other blonde-haired Milalla armored in the effects of the local Yyasulani Hunters - and each boasting full masks of different colors - would emerge from the hole in the wall, waving down to their blue companion as though signaling her.

With a silent nod, she would take a deep breath before putting pen to paper, tracing her quill along the intricate glyphs as a circle of power began to form around her. As she traced, it would shift in color - from green, to red, to blue... and finally orange. Once this happened, she would complete her murmured incantation, slapping the page with an open palm before raising it into the air, completing the summoning...

... to reveal an orangish-brown Carbuncle. The Milalla pumped her fist in the air, silently reveling in her successful incantation; the three Milalla followed with applause. Their brief moment of celebration over, it was time to investigate the scene. The dapper Milalla arcanist entered the ruined establishment, ascending the stairs to be greeted by her compatriots surrounding a large orb. It was opaque in look and texture, with a white-to-blue gradient, and levitated several fulms from the floor. Any attempts to get near it would be repulsed by a thin tessellating barrier that shimmered periodically in and out of view.

Whatever this diminutive quartet was after, it lied within that massive marble. Opening her grimoire once more, the blue Milalla channeled aether into the orange Carbuncle, empowering it as it curled into a ball, spinning in place as it rapidly gained speed. At the height of its acceleration, it would propel itself forward, crashing into the orb. The resulting clash of aetherial signatures would cause a reaction within the sphere, shattering the barrier and eventually causing cracks to form upon its surface. The fractures would split and creep along the circumference of the orb, streaks of whitish-blue light escaping from the needle-thin spaces... until finally bathing the area in an ivory radiance as the orb finally shattered.

Some time would pass. It was now a half-bell before the bout.

Within the lobby of the Arcadion, the entire area was vacant save for a lone Milalla male, sitting upon a bench. His face was obscured by an argent helmet, with white tufts of fur jutting from the bottom end. His entire upper body was bare, revealing a rather lean form with some musculature, and even boasting six-pack abs. Finally, he had on a pair of ice blue brais that was tucked into a pair of sabatons.

About five ticks later, the double doors leading deeper into the compound would open; a Hyune woman with medium-length tresses and wearing in a tuxedo and skirt - all in white - strode towards the Milalla with a smile. Chained to her left wrist was a strongbox that was reinforced in some dark metal - different from that of electrope. Once within arm's reach of the man, she would take out a key from her inner breast pocket, freeing her fettered forearm and laying the case beside him on the bench, before finally greeting him with a low bow. As she rose from it, she would slide him a wink, to which he would simply respond with a curt nod of the head.

"Hello, North Wind," she began, "And welcome to the Arcadion! I am known as Howlita, and I have been chosen as your sponsor for this upcoming match-up. As you are aware, the Arcadion boasts a large roster of Alexandria's most talented fighters, and to proceed in any matches throughout the Ascenion Arcadia Championship, you will require a second to vouch for your skills. Fortunately, however, your opponent is not a champion, but is a combatant of the Cruiserweight tier, so further approval was required in order to authorize this coming duel. I have done extensive research on your abilities, and the higher-ups have deemed you worthy of participating in Alexandria's greatest entertainment venue! But with that out of the way, let us proceed to the opponent you will be facing shortly."

Gesturing towards the large phasmascape-like screens flanking him, they would begin to activate as if on cue, fading into a white screen that remained static for several seconds before it transitioned to his adversary...

"Your opponent tonight is the one and only 'Princess Diaspro', known by her peers and fans within the Arcadion as 'Gem Lancer'. Despite being labeled as such, she holds no true claim over the royal line, and it is merely a title she has earned due to her uncanny knowledge of gemstones and jewelry. As her name suggests, she boasts some proficiency with the polearm, but contrarily, it is not where lies her true strength. She commands a wide variety of magicks pertaining to that of gemstones, which implies her true mastery lying in arcanima, bringing the full potential of gems to bear upon her foes."

Her gaze would shift from the screen to momentarily focus upon the strongbox with which she had entered. "The special gear contained within that case should help make up for your chosen combat style's inherent lack of ranged capabilities. Furthermore, as a reminder: Arcadion fighters augment their abilities with feral souls, with the potency and variance depending on the tier. The Gem Lancer is a contender of the Cruiserweight tier, and as such, has a rather unique feral soul that sets her apart from her peers. Through her influence, she gained clearance to command the powers belonging to that of a faerie-like creature, which enhances her manipulation of gemcraft and, of course, granting her the ability of flight."

After that rather in-depth analysis of the Gem Lancer concluded, the screen would then transition to the view of a round chamber, connected at both ends by tunnels which both combatants would enter. It was a resplendent battlefield glinting with floating jewels of all colors, shapes, and sizes. The ring itself was circular, and had upon its surface the silhouette of the Gem Lancer's head facing sideways. "The Arcadion also creates arenas befitting that of its fighters," Howlita continued, "and the area upon which you will be dueling her is known as 'The Glimmering'. The entire arena is crystalline, including the very floor upon which you'll stand, but it is durable enough to withstand heavy impacts, so fear of falling is nonexistent. As an affirmation, the boundaries are protected by invisible barriers; the Gem Lancer prefers a fair fight."

With the explanations finished, Howlita would turn back to the Milalla - known apparently as the North Wind - with a confident grin. "I was also told that you wish to face this Princess of Gems without a regulator - and without backup. That is very bold of you, sir, and while I am certain you have your reasons..." She would pause to flash him another wink. "... I should still advise you to use caution. With that being said, I will be watching the entire spectacle with much interest! Good luck, and have fun!"

Once more time would march on, and the hour of the battle had now arrived.

The crowd's cheers intensified upon the arrival of the Gem Lancer, her beloved fans waving signs and glowsticks frantically, eager to gain her attention. She kept a rather lofty disposition, her arms crossed as she maintained her confident strides towards the arena.

"There she is, folks! The Bejewelling Beata - the Princess of Gemlight - the dazzling and daring... GEEEEM LANCERRRRR!" cried the announcer.

From the opposite side, the Milalla, now fully equipped in his battle attire, gave off a faint shine as tiny lights danced around the cloth of his vest and skirt. Armed with naught but a pair of glowing Nyepels, he was intending to fight lance with fist.

"She will doubtless harry me from afar and above with her magicks. While my choice of discipline is not optimal against an opponent capable of flight, the Gemweave enhancements upon my gear should help weaken, if not outright nullify, some of her deadlier techniques. I will need to study and observe her closely, and force her into melee combat, where I will be able to strike past her defenses and wear her down," the North Wind said in his mind. He made his way out of the tunnel, meeting the cheers of the crowd - though not nearly as enthusiastic as that of his foe's.

"And the challenger: an underdog from beyond the barrier - the Monk that heralds a chilling tomorrow... THE NORRRRTH WIIIIIIND!"

Within the audience were the same four Milalla that were scavenging around Archeo Alexandria, all nodding to one another as they began to make calls on their linkpearls, engaging in hushed conversations - the details of which were easily drowned out by the roaring fans. At center stage, meanwhile, the Gem Lancer sized up her miniature opponent, taking note of his veiled appearance and seemingly unkempt attire, the faint glint irritating her eyesight somewhat.

"I can see why you'd hide your face so," she taunted: "such a garb made gaudy with shiny baubles will avail you little in this place! But I can tell you're the strong, silent type, so I'll give you that much. Still, you're rather brave or foolish standing before me unenhanced."

The North Wind simply brought his hands behind his back, staring down the Hyune from within his helmet. He did not seem to talk much, or was just laser-focused at the fight ahead. Whatever the case, she would toss her cloak in a dramatic fashion, people grasping at it wantonly as her regulator began to glow bright red. "Fine - don't try and defend yourself with words. Let your actions speak for you!"

"DIASPRO... GEMLIGHT!!" the audience cried as her entire form became enveloped in a cloud of orange sparkles. She would ascend into the air as her body began shimmering from her feet to her head; regular attire began to change form. As if completely swapping her color scheme, she now sported a dress out of an ivory bodice with a collar connected to it and a red skirt. Her maroon boots remained the same, only slightly longer, stopping just below the knees, and her puffy sleeves gave way to a red bracelet and hair piece. A pair of maroon wings with red tips formed on her back, and her transformation was culminated with a headband that was further decorated with jewels and feathers. With an outstretched hand she would gather a multitude of reddish-orange jewels that formed into her signature lance, grasping its shaft once it fully materialized before pointing it at her foe. The North Wind slowly placed his hands into his Nyepels - though not as flashy a response, he still got himself battle-ready as the bell sounded, officially commencing the start of the match.

Making the first move, the Gem Lancer raises her lance towards the ceiling, discharging a bright red light from its tip as she cried, "Gem Flash!" The Milalla would shield his eyes from the radiance, lowering his guard once it subsided - only to find that his foe had vanished! Ruling out that an invisibility spell was possible, the only obvious conclusion was that she sprung into the air in an attempt to confound him; he took this brief moment of calm to survey the battlefield for any immediate changes and noticed the outer edges of the ring surrounded by six clear crystals lying horizontally in the air - all of which began glowing a maroon color - possibly having absorbed the residual aether from her opening gambit.

Having deduced enough from his cursory glance, he would hop to his right, and about second later the center of the ring would be struck by a descending Gem Lancer, who sought to end things quickly with a dive. The North Wind would respond in kind with a wind-infused Shoulder Tackle, lightly damaging and forcing her back at least ten yalms before catching herself, her faerie wings beating rapidly to break her fall.

"Beautifully dodged AND countered! Looks like we have ourselves a battle!" the announcer commented. The Gem Lancer sighed, hiding her approval behind the disappointment that her opponent had his wits about him. Clearly she had counted on a quick end, but now it seemed she had to actually work for it. The North Wind, taking the offensive, charged at his recovering quarry, raising his right fist to strike. A straight jab to the ribcage would be in the Gem Lancer's immediate future, but regained her footing enough to avoid the assault with a frontwards flip, causing the Milalla monk's fist to connect with an invisible barrier. As the Bejewelling Beata landed once more on her feet, her foe would push off from said barrier, twisting around to deliver a downwards slam with his left fist; once more would the Gem Lancer avoid danger with a light hop into the air, leaving naught but another crack on the crystalline floor. The North Wind pressed the attack, jumping up to meet his opponent in midair before twirling to deliver a firm kick with his armored boot. In the nick of time, the Gem Lancer was able to erect a red barrier with an outstretched hand, but the defenses were meager at best given the short window, sustaining some damage as she was once again pushed back.

"The challenger's answered her opening move with his own flurry of attacks! But both combatants have barely begun to fight!"

The crowd's excitement ramped up as the initial exchange of attacks left everyone eager to see how the rest of the battle will unfold. With the measure of her foe now taken, it was time for the Gem Lancer to switch things up.

"Let's see if your vision is as good as your fists!" the Gem Lancer challenged, her voice echoing throughout the Glimmering. Swooping down through the center of the arena, the North Wind would duck out of harm's way as he turned around to notice the Hyune fighter had flown into one of the crystals; they would slowly raise right-side up, with the silhouette of the Gem Lancer made visible in the crystal with which she merged. The six crystals span rapidly counterclockwise, descending out of view for a brief moment before ascending once more, the reddened jewels now spread out evenly around the outer rim.

"Blink and you'll miss it, folks: here comes her Gemflare Dive! Let's see how the challenger fares!" the announcer stated. His gaze now shifting between any of the six crystals, the North Wind remembered the Gem Flash, and that these jewels would likely mimic that same ability. It was merely a matter of when. Facing northward, he relaxed his nerves and waited for a sign: the six jewels were still for now... but he would hear faint humming from behind him; the southeastern crystal was where she would attack.

With little warning, the Gem Lancer shot out from said crystal, lance pointed before her as she dashed across the center at high speeds. While the North Wind was able to successfully read the initial attack, the gem from where appeared his foe would begin shooting reddish beams into the air, showering the area in a rain of red lights. This runoff was unavoidable, however, so the North Wind shielded himself with his Nyepels as best he could to soften the blow. When the Gem Lancer resolved her dive, she entered the gem across from her whilst the previous one began to crack and splinter, until finally detonating into a flash of red light. Thankfully, the North Wind was not facing that direction, and the blinding effect would be nullified.

The process would repeat itself, with the remaining five gems spinning counterclockwise before spreading apart evenly around the field's outer rim. In the time between the next dive, the Milalla faced northward once more took to a defensive stance, releasing his chakra into aetheric patterns of concentric yellow rings; he braced himself for the impending laser rain with the Riddle of Earth.

A momentary pause... and another gem would resonate softly with energy to his immediate left. With a forward roll he would easily foresee the incoming dive, once more watching the Gem Lancer zoom by in a streak of maroon and ivory, followed by the harrying laser shower. Having sustained damage, Earth's Rumination was complete, and he would perform another series of gestures with his arms, answering with Earth's Reply to negate the minor injuries sustained from the initial two blasts.

As the Gem Lancer launched herself inside another gem, the North Wind turned to his right to avoid getting blinded by the exploding gem, and unleashed the chakra within his body to detonate a bluish blast of aether that would cause the two gems to the north and northeast to splinter as well, reducing the total to a meager two.

"The North Wind's not one to wait things out, it looks like! Clever!"

The announcer's commentary would be answered with applause as the two crystals would repeat the process one final time. As they would ascend from below, one gem stood along the east, and the other, on the west. It was at this time that the North Wind saw the glinting in his vest intensifying, having gathered sufficient ambient aether to be of use. With one final pause, he would anticipate the next dash... coming from the west.

With a knee-jerk reaction, he pointed his right fist towards the eastern gem, and several tiny beams of bluish light shot into the maroon crystal, turning it a deep violet. The Gem Lancer would emerge once more from the opposite end, heading straight for her opponent, who had but barely avoided the dive with a hop to the left. A loud thunk would ring as the Gem Lancer slammed into the amethyst crystal.

"OW...! What the -? How did you...?!" she said in astonishment, rubbing her head as she gazed upon her reflection. The Hyune would gasp lightly as the large jewel began to crack. Disregarding the exploding crystal from which she dove, this final one would shortly detonate as well, but it did not blind either combatant. Instead, it discharged a shockwave of purple aether akin to that of levin, sending both of them sliding across the floor; the two would break their fall, each dropping to a knee as the resulting blast immobilized them temporarily.

"Amazing! The challenger saw right through her Gemflare Dive, and even turned it against her! What other marvels await in this jewel-blessed bout?!"

The crowd roared once more with applause, urging the two fighters to continue. The blonde-haired Hyune grit her teeth through the paralysis, staring down her foe with a glare that belied both amazement and annoyance.

"So... it would appear that the rumors about you are true..." she grumbled. The North Wind did not waste his energy with a retort, and instead used this reprieve to allow his wounds to knit, feeling Earth's Reply wearing off. Once their paralysis would wear off, Diaspro would pick her lance up from the floor and call forth several oblong-shaped jewels of scarlet red, levitating above her head as she resumed with her sentiment, "but you are still unenhanced!" before charging towards the North Wind, her jewels now shooting red beams of energy to harry and distract him.

The Milalla was unfazed, having her right where he wanted her, and engaged in a melee skirmish with the Gem Lancer. As he had surmised from his previous briefing, her skills with the polearm were considerable, but her movements were telltale and easily readable; her swipes and thrusts would be deflected if not outright dodged, and though his own martial prowess easily overshadowed hers by leagues, her gift of flight helped tip the scales by quickly disengaging from any blows she could not otherwise avoid.

"A brawl of fist, lance, and magic! It's still anyone's game, with neither side letting up!"

The four Milalla were murmuring to themselves as the fight ensued, seemingly awestruck by how things have thus far transpired. Some moments into their discourse, one of the masked ones pointed back towards the action, noticing the North Wind was getting the upper hand, now leaping onto his foe with his strikes, but aiming for the jewels which provided fire support, shattering them to her chagrin.

With a strong punch to her midsection, the Gem Lancer would be pushed back towards the northern end of the arena. The anger welling within her was made apparent as she grumbled through grit teeth, dissipating her lance now and took to the skies once more, beyond the North Wind's reach. With arms outstretched, she called forth the jewels which floated around the Glimmering, those of matching colors forming together into large conglomerates - just an ilm or so shorter than a full-grown Milalla.

"Jasper... Garnet... Amethyst... Citrine! Emerge from gem-rest and bring me victory!" the Gem Lancer incanted, tracing geometric sigils along the jewels' surface with her finger.

"A bejeweled summoning! The Gem Lancer's calling in reinforcements!" The announcer's forewarning puzzled the Milalla monk, now intrigued by her... unusual methods of bringing forth aetherial constructs. He watched as he would now be surrounded by four large globes of light - one shooting forth from each crystal before landing upon an intercardinal quadrant. These intangible masses would soon take form into Carbuncles - slightly larger in size than the average familiar, and sporting bodies made entirely out of the gems from which they were born. The four larger gems, meanwhile, levitated idly before Diaspro, flanking her from either side.

The North Wind's gaze switched between the amethyst Carbuncle on his left, and the jasper one on his right. He remained still, trying to analyze this predicament before he found himself swarmed. All four maintained a mien of passivity as they stared down their Milalla adversary with their beady, onyx eyes. After making a calm step to the right, the crystalline quartet all took to a low stance, as if preparing to pounce. After a beat, their bodies would begin radiating their respective colors, giving the North Wind some unease. The Gem Lancer levitated calmly from her aerial vantage point, curious to see how her foe would fare this time.

"They're gathering aether from the surrounds..." the North Wind deduced in his mind. As before, the tiny latticed jewels within his battlegarb would glint - the counterattack was imminent. With his palms outstretched, he would focus his ire on the amethyst Carbuncle first - maybe due to a preference in color. Another array of bluish-white beams would fire upon the purple construct, shattering a thin defensive barrier before chipping away at its body. Soon, it would sustain too much damage to maintain its form, and dissipated into aether, transferring its gathered strength to the larger one which stood beside Diaspro.

"Hey! How are you doing that?!" she growled in annoyance, gathering another assortment of red jewels to assail him. "Stop that at once!" The North Wind kept his silent composure, taking note of the approaching rays as he rose his gauntlet in time to deflect them, sending the rays careening in all directions, with a few errant blasts striking the citrine Carbuncle to the southeast, leaving the garnet and jasper ones remaining. Seeing her attack fail once more, she seethed, tightening the grip on her weapon as the aether from the citrine Carbuncle would transfer over to the larger jewel.

With two more constructs remaining, the North Wind took to an offensive stance, a pinkish aetherial lotus blossoming several ilms above his helmed head. With a flourish, the lotus would disperse its beautiful petals, and enhance his blows - the Riddle of Fire has begun. With a graceful turn on the ball of his right heel, he focused his chakra as he wheeled around, punching the space before him with great force as a ball of icy flames would launch at the garnet Carbuncle. A delightful explosion of ice and fire would make quick work of the third construct, leaving the jasper one by its lonesome. He leapt into the air and rose his left leg, preparing to deliver a telling heel drop. Surprisingly, however, the jasper Carbuncle hopped to the side, avoiding a swift demise. The Milalla monastic, however, followed up with a radial sweep with his right leg, but the crystalline critter was light on its feet, hopping into the air to avoid the second strike. Clearly this particular gemstone was the Hyune's favorite to last this long. But despite these few extra seconds, its life would also prove ephemeral as the North Wind would drag his left fist along the floor, sparks forming along the spikes of the Nyepels before he brought it up in a sharp, explosive uppercut, unleashing The Forbidden Chakra on the airborne construct.

"No...!" gasped the Gem Lancer as the jasper one shattered before her eyes. With her quartet crushed, the aether they had gathered to the best of their abilities would be housed within their respective jewels. Now refocusing on her quarry, she waves her free hand as the four jewels began to glow brightly, looming over the North Wind as they surrounded him. "My friends have gathered enough aether to best you! Fall before my Gemlight Barrage!"

There was no getting out of this one, it seemed, as no other recourse remained for him but to weather the coming storm. With a deep inhale, the North Wind gathered himself, and as he exhaled, a cloud of cold air would permeate through his helmet, taking to another defensive stance, but unlike that of the Riddle of Earth. Instead, he spread his arms apart as spikes of aetherial ice took shape before him. Bringing his hands together with a robust clap of his gauntlets, the spikes would shatter, and tucking in his arms, the icicles formed mandala patterns around his very being, encasing him in what appeared to be a layer of frost.

"A never-before-seen technique from the challenger! But will it be enough to endure the Gemlight Barrage?!"

The audience watched with bated breath as they beheld the sight of the North Wind being battered relentlessly by her aetheric barrage. The Hyune combatant squinted her eyes as she tried to keep the North Wind in view, the deluge of beams obscuring him. This "Riddle of Ice" appeared to have been working with great effect, withstanding the brunt of the assault. Before too long, however, bits of ice would begin to chip and break, the shell of aetheric ice struggling to maintain itself. The Milalla within the crowds were especially concerned by how things would turn out as this appeared to be rather grim for the upstart.

With the last vestiges of their stored aether, each of the crystals would release a final, larger blast simultaneously, shattering the barrier of ice and moderately damaging the North Wind - his Hyune opponent giving a harrumph of approval, finally dealing a strong hit. A large cloud of smoke hid the North Wind from view, and the audience fell quiet, assuming the worst for the underdog.

"Is... Is it over already?!" asked the announcer, his clarion voice booming throughout the stadium. After a long series of beats, a bluish glow could barely be made out from inside the cloud. The Gem Lancer arched a brow, leaning forward slightly to ensure it wasn't just a trick of the light. The cloud would pulse a second time with that same bluish light, before she would behold a large snowflake headed straight for her!

She parted her lips with a gasp as she veered to the right, the icy projectile just glancing the left side of her head before detonating in a dazzling display of ice and snow. The cloud would be dispersed with a chilling breeze created from the North Wind's namesake: Ice's Reply. Though there were signs of visible damage on his gear, he was still standing.

The Glimmering would once again be filled with cheers and applause, the audience displaying their collective relief that the North Wind was still lucid. "A spectacular defensive gambit by the North Wind! He endured the endless fusillade, and even answered the Gem Lancer with a glancing yet firm rebuttal!"

With her still reeling, it was finally time for the North Wind to go on the offensive. Leaping diagonally upwards towards the Gem Lancer, he would charge for a fierce flurry, frozen aether gathering in his fist. In a surprising twist, however, a haze of purplish lines and sigils appeared between him and his quarry, and in a violet flash of light, he would bump into an outrunner - one of the mechanical constructs produced in Alexandria. It teleported into the fray, colliding with the North Wind's helmet with a clunk, and rebounding him back down to earth.

"HOLD!" the outrunner succinctly commanded with its adorable glove-like palms outstretched, the screen representing its face turning red with an expression resembling that of an agape mouth, as though shocked or surprised. The cheering quickly dissipated as everyone in the vicinity now stood silent, the referee now making its way towards the arena.

"There's been a call for a hold by the referee! What could this mean?!"

After softening his landing with an ukemi as he touched the floor, the Milalla monk silently watched the referee float past him from his knelt state, towards the southern edge of the arena. The Gem Lancer, recovering from his gelid attack with a hand on her head, opened an eye to view what was going on... only to gasp in terror at the revelation. Her fair-skinned features dimmed and her lips quivered; the Milalla quartet within the audience took note of her sudden pangs of dread, and huddled together, expecting a most shocking turn of events.

One of the numerous cameras within the arena would zoom in on the referee grabbing something off the floor, and as it turned around slowly, it unfurled its gloved hand to reveal it...

"Source detected: this regulator was destroyed, but combatant Gem Lancer retains her enhanced form! Awaiting this battle's judgment!"

The outrunner's screen would turn blue as it would now cycle through an ellipsis; the audience gasped, exchanging glares and whispers galore, utterly baffled by what they're seeing right now. As for the Milalla, their expressions were also of astonishment, but kept their eyes glued on the Gem Lancer. As for her opponent, his eyes went half-lidded beneath his helmet, turning his gaze from the shattered regulator, to the deliberating referee-bot, and then his quarry, who still flew high above the crowd.

When the Gem Lancer saw the revealed regulator, her heart skipped a beat. It was a vain hope that someone else's just somehow got shot off amidst the duel, but it would be all too plain to see when she removed her hand from the left side of her head where she had but previously endured the glacial blast.

"That regulator... Could it be the Gem Lancer's?! But if so, she would have been knocked out of her enhanced state!" the announcer blurted out. "The referee is now deciding on whether the match should continue, but what does the audience think?!"

"Let them fight, obviously," one of the masked Milalla - specifically the emerald-masked one - immediately answered aloud with a raised voice. "The Gem Lancer's a whole different breed of fighter if she didn't need the regulator to enhance herself to begin with." After a moment's pause, several onlookers began to nod in agreement with the diminutive damsel's sentiment, and a moment later they would raise their voices, clapping their hands and chanting: "Let them fight! Let them fight! Let them fight!"

The uproar would continue as the referee would resume its deliberations, but the Gem Lancer, still dumbfounded by this unlikely turn of events, could only feel herself welling up with anger, having her secret be exposed. Before too long into the chanting, the referee would arouse from its stupor, the entire Glimmering flashing a bright green as it waved its hands energetically, unintentionally tossing the device off into the scintillating abyss.

"The Gem Lancer maintains her enhanced form, and is deemed able to continue fighting. The North Wind has not been disqualified as a result on counts of foul play! Resume the match!"

The bell would sound once more, declaring the battle's continuation as the referee would fly out of view.

"WE'RE STILL IN IT, FOLKS! The Gem Lancer, despite no longer with her regulator, has maintained control over her feral soul! This is the caliber of warrior you can only find in the upper tiers of the Arcadion! But now we approach the climax! Will our upstart claim victory, or will the Bejewelling Beata give the North Wind a crash course on cruiserweight-tier battlers?!"

The announcer was chewing the scenery for all its worth now, with the audience cheering once more with renewed gusto. The North Wind gave a slight sigh of relief, supposedly thankful he did not lose on a technicality. But his patting of the back would be cut short as the area began to glow - from the numerous jewels to the very arena floor upon which he stood - and raised his head towards the source...

"You think to outshine me? The brightest jewel here - in her own home turf?!" a rather perturbed Gem Lancer exclaimed, her left hand conjuring a whitish-blue orb, whilst twelve larger cylindrical gems - no doubt one for each moon in a cycle - floated along the arena's edge, spreading out equidistantly in a manner not unlike her Gemflare dive startup. "You've gotten lucky this far, withstanding two of my special maneuvers, but THIS ONE's going to leave you dazzled and down for the count! Take this, 'Northern Upstart'!"

As she reared back her left hand, all but one of the four Milalla gasped as the realization just dawned upon them, with the blue behatted one merely bearing an intrigued countenance.

"Wait, is that--?" uttered the aqua blue-masked lass. When the Gem Lancer tossed the orb towards the North Wind, he knew there was no retreat, so the only other recourse was to face the danger head-on. Gathering the residual ice-aspected aether left behind by his previous counterattack, he would attempt to stop the projectile dead with a straight punch, only for the orb to splinter off into numerous smaller simulacra, surrounding him from all sides before materializing into a transparent crystal-like formation. Thus immobilized, the Gem Lancer called forth her jasper javelin, appearing in her right hand as she then began to fly clockwise along the edges of the arena, while also leaving behind a wake of faerie dust and driving her lance through each of the twelve crystals, shattering them and leaving behind a cloud of its aetherial signature. "It's the Moonstone prison! Look at that familiar sheen of white and blue!" the aqua blue Milalla confirmed.

"Worry you not, madam," the debonair Milalla reassured with a smile, "for I am certain the North Wind has a response for it."

"Ohoho! You know what this means, everyone! This could be the deciding finish! Get ready for the windup...!" the announcer blared out, heralding what may as well be the Gem Lancer's ace-in-the-hole. Once the Hyune would complete her lap around the Glimmering, she zoomed toward the far northern reaches of the arena, high above the crowd as she raised her weapon skyward, and the duodecim of crystalline remnants would be absorbed into her weapon, whilst a multitude of multicolored rings began forming a tunnel starting from her and ending just fulms away from the North Wind.

Her opponent seemed a goner, punching against this barrier of white and blue; though he had begun to make a few cracks here and there, it would not break in time for him to mount a proper defense against the Gem Lancer.

However... his battlegarb would, for a third time, begin to sparkle all over his body - this reaction was no doubt a result of the Gem Lancer's enraged state influencing the battleground, and empowered not only herself, but his latticed gear as well. The North Wind sheathed his Nyepels, gathered his chakra, and would turn the bluish lights a red-orange, altering its properties before thrusting his arms laterally, sending an omnidirectional blast of lasers that would pierce through the moonstone prison like a hot knife through butter, and ultimately freeing him from his predicament.

As the crowd's excitement reached a fever pitch, the diminutive duelist now stared down the kaleidoscopic conundrum that was the Gem Lancer's flashy, ultimate attack. Again, retreat was no option, and defending against a strike of this caliber would only spell his defeat. There was only one other alternative...

With a gentle exhale, he lowered his head and brought his right fist into his left palm. In his mind the area around him quieted to a low muffle as his chakra was being expelled into a small aura around him, a bluish-white flame against the multicolored radiance of the Gem Lancer. He seemed to have been... meditating? Ascending? Finding inner peace even in what may be his final moments?

Meanwhile, the polearm within the Hyune's hands had gathered all the aether it could, turning into a rainbow spear that vacillated ceaselessly with the borrowed strength of the other crystals.

"EVERYBODY!" the Gem Lancer shouted with a commanding tone, "WHAT IS A GIRL'S BEST FRIEND?!"

"G! E! M! S!" the crowd chanted.

"THE POWER OF...!"

"GEMS!"

After that brief call-and-response, she hurled her lance through the tunnel of rings, drawing closer and closer as everyone was practically jumping out of their seats to witness the inevitable impact. The North Wind, even with his visage obscured, remained the picture of calm, and when the lance would pass through the final ring...

... He pivoted on his right foot, turning ninety degrees to the left. This allowed the lance to miss him by mere ilms, but he would also reach out his right hand to catch the weapon mid-flight before it would touch the floor. The momentum of the weapon would cause the North Wind to spin at impossible speeds - so fast, even, that he had begun to levitate several fulms off the floor, which resulted in a rather impressive spectacle of a rainbow trail forming into a small pillar.

When he would eventually decelerate, he faced the Gem Lancer, her own weapon now being raised against her. And with his first utterance since this battle even began, the North Wind would give an addendum to Diaspro's claim:

"Actually... it's Diamonds."

... before returning the javelin to sender. Utterly dumbfounded for the third and final time, the Gem Lancer stood there in shock, only having enough time to bring her arms before her face in a vain attempt to shield herself. The lance would find its mark, and detonate into a fantastic display of multicolored stars and sparkles, with the North Wind touching back down with his back turned to the explosion.

The referee floated down toward the Gem Lancer's body once the gem dust settled, inspecting it from multiple angles for any signs of activity. After a brief moment, it would throw its gloved arms up and declare: "K.O.!"

"THE MATCH... IS DECIDED! VICTORY GOES TO THE NORTH WIND!"

The Milalla quartet heaved a collective sigh of relief, with the audience going ballistic over the bout they had all witnessed - fireworks and confetti had erupted all over the gem-speckled stadium, celebrating the conclusion of this brilliant duel. The North Wind, prior to taking his leave of the arena, would give gentle waves and flowing bows to the stands, returning the admiration in kind...

This concludes the main portion of this story. If you wish to read further for the denouement and big reveal, you are welcome to press on by clicking the "keep reading" line below!

With the battle thus concluded, the Milalla monk dusted himself off and began his slow trek down his respective entrance tunnel. Whilst his opponent was barely coming to, she could make out the diminishing visage of the Milalla, a dogged determination in her citron amber orbs to as his silhouette faded from view...

Soon he would exit the Arcadion proper after being congratulated by Howlita, who was standing by in the lobby and tended to any hurts he sustained prior to taking her leave. Now back in True Vue, he would be met with a venerable ovation from a large crowd of Alexandrians flanking the stairs which led to the plaza. He would acquiesce to some of his newfound fans' requests to take pictures with this rising star from beyond the barrier, and even struck a few poses for the crowd.

"Haha! That was an astounding spectacle!" the Hyune male said to his female Eldite accomplice. "Who'd have guessed the Gem Lancer possesses such power even without the regulators?!"

"I hope this gets published into the Cruiserweight's edition of AAC Illustrated!" she replied giddily.

Getting away from that section of Solution Nine about a half-bell's worth of time later, the masked monk relaxed at the Residential Sector, enjoying the pristine emerald grasses within the park as he reclined upon a bench. During this time he brought a finger to his ear, and a series of short chimes would sound...

"Listen closely," he said in a low tone, "the final part of this phase is about to commence. I will be keeping this channel open for the next few minutes. I ask that all listening find a place with minimal ambient noise and to remain silent until the discourse has come to a close."

A brief moment later, his solitude would be conveniently cut short as Diaspro would emerge in the distance, back in her normal, resplendent garb. Scanning the area, she would immediately single out the relaxing Milalla and ran his way.

"YOU! I demand to know who you are, stranger!" she demanded. The woman would only be met with silence, but only briefly, as the Milalla jumped from off his bench to face her.

"May we use a room first? I feel there is much for us to discuss, and privacy is recommended."

Diaspro looked at him quizzically, but did not deny the logic behind his response. With a reluctant nod she would lead him into the large apartment complex, where they would ascend the higher tiers of the electrope structure until they would arrive in what could only be Diaspro's private chambers - a gem-speckled domicile with an atmosphere not unlike that of the very Glimmering in which she just fought. The main distinction was that the decor had more faerie-like aesthetics, with silhouettes of the winged mischief makers lining the walls, and by her neat and well-kept (and jasper-lined) bed was the portrait of a fair-skinned Milalla with blonde hair, blue eyes, and wore the effects befitting that of a Nymian Scholar.

"You will have to forgive me for this..." the Milalla spoke once more as Diaspro shut and secured the door behind them. He would slowly remove his helmet, and the revelation absolutely shocked the Hyune so that she staggered, nearly losing her balance and falling on her rear.

"Th-Thiji...?! But..." she gasped. The very person she fought was none other than the Diamond Sultan himself - the same Diamond Sultan she had imprisoned and held hostage for the better part of a moon. "I've never met one capable of escaping my gemstone prisons! I should've known as much when you were able to do so during our battle... which means you've won free not once, but twice!"

"Indeed," Thiji responded, "but I hold no ill will towards you, so do not feel so alarmed as to call security. If you are wondering how I was able to break free - which I am certain you are - it is due to the very motivation behind your arresting of me: I have many allies, both near and far; within the barrier and beyond it. Much like how aetherial signatures can be countered with the proper opposition, so too can gemstones, which house their own unique signature. The prison in which you encased me was made of Moonstone - a whitish-blush opaque crystal. One of my Angels - who also happens to be my sister-in-law - has learned the ways of Arcanima enough to summon a Carbuncle of an appropriate jewel needed to weaken and nullify the prison - in which case would be Sunstone. Of course, other jewels are capable of achieving this result, but Sunstone was the best candidate for this purpose."

The explanation absolutely astounded Diaspro. It was no small wonder that he was able to fulfill all those feats of martial and magical prowess during their duel. But she also could not help but feel relieved knowing that she would not be met with a fierce retribution that may have culminated with her sudden... disappearance.

Slowly pacing the floor towards her nightstand, she would gaze upon the portrait of the scholar for a brief moment before turning to face Thiji.

"I suppose I should've known better than to challenge the mind of one such as you," she commented. "I've only begun to hear about your deeds, and I must express how intrigued I am to know more about you... But I know you're more interested in learning of me."

Thiji could only nod curtly as he made himself comfortable on her sofa, placing his helmet on the table before him whilst Diaspro took the framed portrait in her hands and planted herself on the side of her bed. Unbeknownst to her, four individuals stood guard some yalms away from the door outside her room - the same Milalla warband which rescued Thiji who were, in fact, his Angels: Veeveena, Veeveera, Veeveeja, and Umimi, specifically. With their own linkpearl transmissions cut off, they ensured that no one would interfere with the discourse between Thiji and Diaspro as she began to disclose the truth to the Diamond Sultan...

"As you may have guessed by what you have seen thus far, I am not really from Alexandria. And based on your prior knowledge of Arcanima, you are doubtless aware of the Age of Enlightenment - better known as the Fifth Astral Era. More importantly, this was the point in history that the War of the Magi began to unfold. In the years leading up to that great conflict, the Milalla - no - Lalafell who ventured out from the South Sea Isles would form the maritime city-state of Nym off the shores of western Vylbrand. One of those Lalafell was a man by the name of Skyon Klyon - a man possessing great intellect and compassion. His colleagues referred to him as 'Sky', but because he was also quite proficient with the axe and blade."

Thiji already had a hunch as to what this woman truly was, but he respectfully maintained silence so that she would divulge the entire truth for him (and his eavesdropping Angels).

"Nymian scholars bind and bond with faeries to assist in their stratagems, and Skyon was of no exception. But he saw something different in this one; she was always fascinated by the glimmer and glow of gems, as it was among the first thing she beheld when she was first summoned into the corporeal realm. He understood that faeries were more than mere constructs borne from aether - they are sentient beings, capable of thought and emotion, and it is because of this that the bond they shared was different from most. He made a study out of gemstones and taught this faerie all he knew about them: how they were formed; their unique aetherial signatures; how each brought their own beauty and contribution to the world, and even the very concepts they symbolize and embody. He took note of her heavier affection towards red and orange stones, and gave this faerie a name..."

"Diaspro."

Thiji softly spoke the name, to which the Hyune could only nod in acceptance. "How convenient, then, that most native Alexandrians tend to be named after minerals or gemstones, allowing you - a Faerie - to in perfectly. But you have divulged enough, and you are forgiven for your deeds-"

"Oh, no - I appreciate your clemency, but after what I've put you through, you deserve the whole story," she interrupted, rising from her seat to face Thiji after placing the portrait of Skyon back down on the nightstand. She then paced towards the glass windows which gave a wonderful view of the entirety of Solution Nine, watching the many vehicles fly by... "That is all common knowledge, though, and I am getting too far ahead of myself. I was actually first summoned during the time of the Fourth Astral Era, before the Age of Endless Frost took the realm by icy storm. Sky was among the first settlers on an island known as Aloalo to escape the Fifth Umbral Calamity and reach this plane, taking his knowledge with him. He did not go off to fight in the War of the Magi. Instead, he would serve in the Alexandrian military, putting his arcane and martial knowledge to good use, which earned him the battlefield title of 'The Specialist'. Being a faerie, I was a peculiar sight in this realm, but a unique one, and with my aid, we fought and won no small number of battles... but then the Storm Surge happened."

"Aloalo Island is a venerable trove of history, with no small number of means to experiment with Arcanima," Thiji interjected, which impressed Diaspro.

"You know of Aloalo, too?" she asked as she turned her head.

"I lent aid to an expedition there not too long ago with two others: a Conjurer of Stillglade Fane, and a... Light-infused Miqo'te, we'll call her, and have learned much during that time - about the origins of my own people, and of the very arcane gifts we shared with the rest of the world. But I will see about putting the remaining pieces together myself: this calamity of lightning occurred, and Skyon met an untimely demise - most likely due to the erratic storms, or valiantly defending the Alexandrians you've come to cherish."

The Hyune faerie nodded sagely, confirming Thiji's statement to be correct. He would then continue: "Normally a familiar's corporeal holdings rely on the aether of their master in order to persist, and when cut off, they would inevitably dissipate when that source is removed. But my findings in Aloalo have proven that even this can be prevented. Due to the incredible life and vitality that Aloalo Island still breathes into its environs from an ancient jewel, a faerie who now calls that place home has persisted long without the presence of their master - whomever they may be. That selfsame jewel was no doubt the reason said faerie continues to exist in the material realm - but how was it that you maintained your physical form? Was it through electrope?"

"Yes," Diaspro answered firmly, "and thanks to the Lalafell - or Milalla as they were then called upon inhabiting this dimension - introducing arcanima to the world, they were able to inscribe the runes upon the ore that granted its ability to convert lightning-aspected aether into other elements. When Skyon perished, I remained, recovering whatever I could with my tiny form and magicks and sought shelter. Over the years, I persisted on the electrope that became ubiquitous after the calamity, as it helped me maintain my physical form. During this time I would pore through the tomes left behind by Sky, learning all that he knew of arcanima, while also gathering any gemstones I could find so as to pique my fascination. I also honed my own skills in secret, gaining mastery over jewelry manipulation and gemcraft. With Everkeep's construction, I no longer had any cause for worry in regards to me losing my corporeal state, but I also needed to blend in with the other Alexandrians; I assumed a Hyune form as my own aetherial signature grew enough to support one, and adopted a regulator, but I never truly needed it, nor have I made use of it. My skills in glamours made it look as though I was using a feral soul to assume a new form when I fight in the Arcadion."

She paused, reaching into her robe pocket to reveal a soul crystal, etched in the familiar shape of a Scholar's, but lacking the symbol.

"Along with the grimoires I saved, this soul crystal is all that remains of him. It's how I was able to retain all the knowledge I've gained and even add my own experiences to it. I sensed a familiar presence when you came here for the first time, and thought it too good to be true that Sky had miraculously returned."

"That makes sense," Thiji replied with a cant of his head, "and given that faeries preceded Carbuncles, and succeeded the quaqua, you were eventually capable of creating your own familiars, combining the arcanima you've learned with your mastery of gems."

"Right again. And thus did I christen myself a 'Gemlight Faerie', and became the Gem Lancer as well as the Princess of Gemstones. I lived quite well among the Alexandrians, using my know-how of crystalline gleam to become a fashionista in my own right... Though the secret is out now, and I no longer need to keep up the facade. Everyone seems even more excited knowing that I've been relying on my own strength instead of borrowing power from feral souls; I never really condoned the use of them, anyway - thanks a lot, 'King' Zoraal Ja..."

Thiji would chuckle at the not-so-subtle jab to the late King of Resolve were he able, but now that the truth was revealed to him, he would consider his task complete. Hopping off the couch, he approached Diaspro with dignified strides, his hands behind his back whilst she pocketed the soul crystal once more.

"How would you consider serving under the Higuri Regalia, then?" he offered, to which only Diaspro could gasp in response. "Your knowledge of gems is unparalleled, and as a Faerie, you possess wisdom spanning many winters, especially after being stranded in Alexandria for so long; you would prove an invaluable asset to our efforts. Through us, you will become a Queen of Gemstones."

This proposition intrigued Diaspro greatly. The prospect of having a life outside the barrier was very enticing, and to see how much the Source has changed was also of considerable interest - to see Eorzea and beyond, and to interact with its various spoken societies. Now, after decades of living and learning in Alexandria, she would finally have that chance. Thus she gave her answer:

"Make no mistake... Your Eminence - I still have a duty to fulfill in Alexandria, especially now that my true self is revealed, and people will doubtless want to know more about me with enlivened interest. But I would not properly honor my former master's legacy remaining inside this dome - let alone Everkeep - for the rest of my days, and to be honest... this place could use a bit more pizazz. Your Regalia would be the perfect answer to that; our meeting was very auspicious, it seems!"

Concluding her affirmation with a curtsey, Diaspro would thus swear her allegiance to Thiji Higuri and the Higuri Regalia; the Diamond Sultan would nod in response before he would slowly make for the door, but would be stopped by Diaspro once more.

"If I may make a request?" she said with hand outstretched.

"Of course you can model for us, Miss Diaspro, and your request to contribute to my upcoming clothing line is accepted," he replied. Diaspro was dumbfounded, a stunned countenance made apparent on her features.

"You... can read minds?"

"No," he responded, "I've just been in this line of work for so long that I've gained a profound intuition on haute couture, and those looking to make their mark upon it. We both can agree that Alexandria will be looking forward to a shock in culture when they begin venturing beyond Yyasulani en masse, but even more so will they be astounded by the aesthetics of the various locales and peoples of this realm. I have learned much and more during my time spent on this continent, this New World, and witnessing its history through sight, sound, and word of mouth has opened my own eyes, in a sense. Every single person contributed to the greater picture that is now Tuliyollal, and even Alexandria was welcoming to the native races' own ways of life when the fusion occurred."

He would pause, turning his body to meet Diaspro's gaze.

"Tural. This is the breakthrough I sought. Not just Tuliyollal and Alexandria, but the continent as a whole, with its rich history and aesthetics - now blessed by the unexpected arrival of the peoples from another reflection."

"I like it! And I will ensure you that my own contribution will be worthy of your Catalogue," Diaspro declared with a bow. "My gemlight designs will wow natives and foreigners alike! But... this Queen-to-be requires rest, as this day has been eventful, thanks to you and yours!"

"On that I've no doubt," Thiji stated. "You will be granted your rest, and I again apologize for the measures taken to undermine you. We are pleased to have you with us, Miss Diaspro, and we will ensure you do not regret this decision."

Diaspro would finally be left to her own devices as the Diamond Sultan vacated the room, now greeted further by his mother and father, who voiced their eagerness to return home after being within these levin-inundated lands for so long. With the operation thus completed, the Higuri Regalia would begin making the necessary preparations to cross the salt, now enlightened by the experiences gained from their extended stay within Tural.

Perhaps in time, the Higuri Regalia may even have a branch in the New World. But that, like everything else, will be decided by the Spinner's own hand...

[aurevoirmonty]

"La géopolitique part du principe qu’il existe deux types d’organisation de la société : maritime et terrestre. Le land power est la puissance terrestre et le sea power la puissance maritime. Et il y a une confrontation entre ces deux types de complexes politiques, sociaux, culturels, économiques et technologiques, parce qu’ils proviennent de points de vue diamétralement opposés."

Alexandre Douguine, entretien du 12 février 2024 et publié le 18 mars par le journaliste turc Eren Yeşilürt.

[lemondeabicyclette]

Engin ingénieux : Deux jeunes hommes habillés à la mode se tiennent près d'un vélo en tandem remorquant un buggy de transport.

Paris occupé par les nazis : des swastikas géants bordent les rues de la capitale française. Paris est tombé aux mains des Allemands quelques semaines seulement après que les nazis aient lancé une invasion en 1940.

Loisirs : Une femme galbée penchée sur le pont est au centre de cette photographie. Zucca a eu accès au dernier - et extrêmement rare - film Agfacolor pour montrer Paris comme une grande ville amusante et pleine de gens heureux. Lorsque ses photos furent exposées à Paris en 2008, Bertrand Delanoë, alors maire de Paris, a ordonné un avis pour accompagner les images indiquant que les images évitaient la réalité de l'occupation et ses aspects tragiques.

Une femme élégante quitte un vélo-taxi : le ministre nazi de la Propagande Joseph Goebbels voulait que Paris conserve son image d'avant-guerre, du moins en surface.

Pas encore moderne : les vélos sont rejoints dans cette image par la vue même anachronique d'une voiture tirée par des chevaux. Lorsque ces photos furent exposées en 2008 - plus de 60 ans après avoir été prises - beaucoup ont appelé à la fermeture de l'exposition.

Fat of the land : Un homme et une femme à l'air riche roulent dans un chariot tiré par deux Parisiens minces sur un vélo tandem. La richesse et la collaboration avec les nazis ont contribué à préserver la vie d'une certaine élite alors que des milliers de Juifs français étaient envoyés dans les camps de la mort.

[satinea]

Sous les feux que juin verse,

Comme l’éclair, Mireille court, et court, et court !

De soleil en soleil et de vent en vent, elle voit

Une plaine immense : des savanes

Qui n’ont à l'œil ni fin ni terme ;

De loin en loin, et pour toute végétation,

De rares tamaris ... et la mer qui paraît...

Des tamaris, des prêles,

Des salicornes, des arroches, des soudes,

Amères prairies des plages marines,

Où errent les taureaux noirs

Et les chevaux blancs : joyeux,

Ils peuvent là librement suivre

La brise de mer tout imprégnée d’embrun.

La voûte bleue où plane le soleil

S’épanouissait , profonde , brillante,

Couronnant les marais de son vaste contour ;

Dans le lointain clair

Parfois un goéland vole ;

Parfois un grand oiseau projette son ombre,

Ermite aux longues jambes des étangs d’alentour.

C’est un chevalier aux pieds rouges ;

Ou un bihoreau qui regarde, farouche,

Et dresse fièrement sa noble aigrette,

Faite de trois longues plumes blanches...

Déjà cependant la chaleur énerve :

Pour s’alléger, de ses hanches

La jeune fille dégage les bouts de son fichu.

Et la chaleur, de plus en plus vive,

De plus en plus devient ardente ;

Et du soleil qui monte au zénith du ciel pur,

Du grand soleil les rayons et le hâle

Pleuvent à verse comme une giboulée :

Tel un lion, dans la faim qui le tourmente,

Dévore du regard les déserts abyssins!

Sous un hêtre, qu’il ferait bon s’étendre!

Le blond rayonnement du soleil qui scintille

Simule des essaims, des essaims furieux,

Essaims de guêpes, qui volent,

Montent, descendent et tremblotent

Comme des lames qui s’aiguisent.

La pèlerine d’amour que la lassitude brise

Et que la chaleur essouffle,

De sa casaque ronde et pleine

A ôté l’épingle ; et son sein agité

Comme deux ondes jumelles

Dans une limpide fontaine,

Ressemble à ces campanules

Qui, au rivage de la mer, étalent en été leur blancheur.

Mais peu à peu devant sa vue

Le pays perd sa tristesse ;

Et voici peu à peu qu’au loin se meut

Et resplendit un grand lac d’eau :

Les phillyreas, les pourpiers,

Autour de la lande qui se liquéfie,

Grandissent, et se font un mol chapeau d’ombre.

C’était une vue céleste,

Un rêve frais de Terre-Promise !

Le long de l’eau bleue, une ville bientôt

Au loin s’élève, avec ses boulevards,

Sa muraille forte qui la ceint,

Ses fontaines, ses églises, ses toitures,

Ses clochers allongés qui croissent au soleil.

Des bâtiments et des pinelles,

Avec leurs voiles blanches,

Entraient dans la darse ; et le vent, qui était doux,

Faisait jouer sur les pommettes

Les banderoles et les flammes.

Mireille, avec sa main légère,

Essuya de son front les gouttes abondantes ;

Et à pareille vue

Elle pensa, mon Dieu ! crier miracle !

Et de courir, et de courir, croyant que là était

La tombe sainte des Maries.

Mais plus elle court, plus change

L’illusion qui l’éblouit,

Et plus le clair tableau s’éloigne et se fait suivre.

Œuvre vaine, subtile, ailée,

Le Fantastique l’avait filée

Avec un rayon de soleil, teinte avec les couleurs

Des nuages : sa trame faible

Finit par trembler, devient trouble,

Et se dissipe comme un brouillard.

Mireille reste seule et ébahie, à la chaleur...

Et en avant dans les monceaux de sable,

Brûlants, mouvants, odieux !

Et en avant dans la grande sansouire, à la croûte de sel

Que le soleil boursoufle et lustre,

Et qui craque, et éblouit !

Et en avant dans les hautes herbes paludéennes,

Les roseaux, les souchets, asile des cousins !

Avec Vincent dans la pensée,

Cependant, depuis longtemps

Elle côtoyait toujours la plage reculée du Vaccarès;

Déjà, déjà des grandes Saintes

Elle voyait l’église blonde,

Dans la mer lointaine et clapoteuse,

Croître, comme un vaisseau qui cingle vers le rivage.

De l’implacable soleil

Tout à coup la brûlante échappée

Lui lance dans le front ses aiguillons : la voilà,

Infortunée! qui s’affaisse,

Et qui, le long de la mer sereine,

Tombe, frappée à mort, sur le sable.

Ô Crau, ta fleur est tombée!... ô jeunes hommes, pleurez-la !...

📷 Sur le Vaccarès

Un extrait du chant X de Mirèio (Mireille), de Frédéric Mistral. Mireille s'est enfuie de chez elle pour implorer les Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer d'infléchir la décision de son père qui refuse de la voir mariée au vannier Vincent, ce qui équivaut pour lui à une inacceptable mésalliance. Elle traverse la Camargue écrasée de soleil et est frappée d'insolation sur les rives de l'étang de Vaccarès...

[pearlsoflongago]

Of Hope and Hillsides

"I will be the gladdest thing..."

Sångtrasten/Song Thrush by Bruno Liljefors

“Hope” is the Thing With Feathers

“Hope” is the thing with feathers— That perches in the soul— And sings the tune without the words— And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard— And sore must be the storm— That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm—

I’ve heard it in the chillest land— And on the strangest Sea— Yet—never—in Extremity, It asked a crumb—of me.

—Emily Dickinson

Young Girl with a Bird by Berthe Morisot

Farmhouse in Provence by Vincent van Gogh

On the Grasshopper and the Cricket

The Poetry of earth is never dead:       When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,       And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run     From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;     That is the Grasshopper’s—he takes the lead         In summer luxury,—he has never done       With his delights; for when tired out with fun     He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.     The poetry of earth is ceasing never:       On a lone winter evening, when the frost        Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills     The Cricket’s song, in warmth increasing ever,       And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,       The Grasshopper’s among some grassy hills.

—John Keats

Dauphine Landscape by Pierre Bonnard

Afternoon on a Hill

I will be the gladdest thing    Under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers    And not pick one.

I will look at cliffs and clouds    With quiet eyes, Watch the wind bow down the grass,    And the grass rise.

And when lights begin to show    Up from the town, I will mark which must be mine,    And then start down!

—Edna St. Vincent Millay

Vue d’Auvers by Paul Cezanne

[leparfumdesreves]

"La lavande n’est pas encor tout à fait mûre Et une brume bleue flotte sur les champs gris,

Joli voile de fleurs pas tout à fait finies, Dont seule la couleur vient poser son azur

Sur les mornes talus qui strient le plateau, On dirait que ce bleu est l’âme des lavandes, Vibrant sous le soleil et animant la lande D’un délicat frisson qui tremblote au tempo.

De la lumière drue attendue si longtemps On est le vingt-cinq juin, l’Été s’est fourvoyé . Et les fleurettes bleues encor tout étriquées Font de si grands efforts pour rattraper le temps

Qu’elles semblent fleurir à vue d’oeil Le soleil les gave de chaleur, les baignant de lumière

Pour les aider à croître, il fait très chaud et l’air Commence à sentir bon sous son aura vermeille"

Vette de Fonclare "Lavande"

[mothmiso]

Lorraine (2) (3) (4) by MH Zante

Via Flickr:

(1) Vue sur Sierck-les-Bains. (2) Ferme de Remenoncourt. (3) La Meuse vallonnée. (4) Au pays des « Trois Frontières », aux confins de la France, de l'Allemagne, d'où elle n'est éloignée que de 20 km, et du Luxembourg (6 km), Rodemack est baignée de cette triple culture. Surnommé la « Petite Carcassonne Lorraine », le village est encore entouré de 700 m de remparts datant du XVe S et l'on y pénètre par la porte fortifiée de Sierck, construite par les habitants eux-mêmes au XIVe S. In the land of “Three Borders”, on the borders of France, Germany, from which it is only 20 km away, and Luxembourg (6 km), Rodemack is bathed in this triple culture. Nicknamed “Little Carcassonne Lorraine”, the village is still surrounded by 700 m of ramparts dating from the 15th century and it is entered through the fortified gate of Sierck, built by the inhabitants themselves in the 14th century.     

[amin13864]

_*⚀Dear European Representatives ,,*_

_*~*_ *Save the tears you shed for the Israeli soldiers terrified by the children of Gaza, for you will need them later when they give you what they give to the Palestinians.*

_*~*_ *Prepare the colonies and camps to receive them on your lands , And do not forget to train new Nazis in preparation for the emergence of a new European Hitler who will reenact a new Holocaust against your new guests ... Because They will commit the same massacres against you that they commit against the children of Palestine.*

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

_*⚀Chers députés européens ,,*_

_*~*_ *Gardez les larmes de solidarité et d'affinité que vous versez pour les soldats israéliens terrifiés par les enfants de Gaza, car vous en aurez besoin plus tard lorsqu'ils vous causeront la même souffrance qu'ils ont causée aux Palestiniens.*

_*~*_ *Préparez les colonies et les camps pour les recevoir sur vos terres. Et n'oubliez pas de former de nouveaux nazis en vue de l'émergence d'un nouvel Hitler européen qui reconstituera un nouvel Holocauste contre vos nouveaux invités ... Et méfiez-vous, certainement Ils commettront contre vous les mêmes massacres qu'ils ont commis et qu'ils continuent à commettre contre les enfants de la Palestine.*

_*╭──•••🇵🇸─────🤍═──•*_

*أعِــزّائــي الـنُـواب فْي الـبرلـمَـانْ الأوروبـي الـمُـوقَّــر*

_*~*_ _*وَفِّـــروا دُمـوعكـم الـتي تـذرفـونهـا علـى الـجُـنـود الإسرائيليينْ المرعُوبينـ مِنْـ أطفـالـ غزّة؛فَستحتاجونَ إليهَا لاحقاً عِندما يَذيقونكم ما يَذيقونهُ للِفلسطينيينـ*_

_*~*_ _*وحَـضِّــروا الـمُستعمرات والـمُخيمــات الـمُـجـهــزة لإستقبالـهُم علـى أراضـيكُـم ؛ ولا تـنسُـوا أن تُــدربوا نازيينْ جُدد تمهيداً لظهور 'هِتلر أوروبـي' جديد يُعيدَ تـمثيـل 'هُولوكوست' جديدة ضد ضيوفكُم الجدد ... فـهُـم سيرتكبون ضدكم نفس المَجازر التي يرتكبونها ضُدَ أطفَالَ فِلسطِينْ.*_

_*╰──•••🤍─────🇵🇸═──•*_

[transparentgentlemenmarker]

Saype, né Guillaume Legros, est un artiste français vivant à Bulle, en Suisse. Artiste autodidacte, les œuvres d’art biodégradables géantes de Saype ornent les champs, sont mieux vues par les drones et ne durent que quelques jours. L'artiste est représenté par MTArt Agency depuis 2018. Débutant sa carrière en tant que jeune graffeur, le travail de Saype a rapidement été reconnu et est devenu très recherché, ce qui lui a valu sa première exposition en galerie à l'âge de 16 ans. Saype est un pionnier du land art. mouvement, se concentrant sur des peintures biodégradables à grande échelle avec des messages sociaux forts

September 22 2023

[lastdreamofazombifiedbrain]

LE DÉPART

The tour came eventually to an end as the crew entered in the Combi. Everyone taking places in the cockpit. The bulletproof windows letting them appreciate one last time Neo-Nice, even if Mart didn't really entered actually entered the city.

Paperworks and customs check up done. They took their place in the long row of big and armored vehicles ready to take one of the hourly opennings to the Mega-route.

Mart eyes were intensely scanning the fortifications eager to pass them and visit the world. He even cracked a smile when it finally opened.

The seemingly infinte grey lane of the Mega route first apeared to him. His eyes adjusting to the bright rays of the unforgiving sun on wich the planet was rotating around. And of course the gargantuan flat and rock landscape the road was build on. It was all that can be seen. Endless upon endless of barely fertile lands. A brown rocky horison with occasionnaly some short vegetations.

As all the vehicles continued he finally saw that the beginning of the Mega-route was actually a bridge of titanic proportion. He could see the faint glow of the sun on water. He didn't even realised he was up on his feet until Marcel laughed.

HOW COULD THEY NOT ADMIRE THE BEAUTY OF THIS NATURAL ABYSSMAL MOAT?

"Il est pas déjà passé par là pour entrer ce gars?" Seemed to ask Ramid.

"Il est peut-être venu en cryo' comme notre marchandise, ou dans une caisse, on a pas tous la chance d'avoir la vue sur le voyage." Seemingly answered Irham, throwing an angry gesture.

Mart didn't know what they were talking about but it seemed that it affected dearly the arabian man wich looked up at him after answering, making eye contact. Whatever was said, the traveler decided to throw the man a thumb up in hope to lift his spirit wich seemed to works.

"Hey Mart!" Called Marcel.

The cyborg tapped the console and a map of the Combi appeared on a screen in the habitacle.

"Si tu veux voir Neo-Nice, c'est maintenant ou jamais!" Yelled the man with the bulldog like face, poking what appeared to be a panoramic window in the back of the vehicle on the map.

Mart immediately ran to the door, exiting the cockpit. And at the second he was out of sight, he opened the -door-, arriving immediately to his destination.

And here...

He first saw what appeared to be an ocean behind the city.

Then he witnessed the glory and height of the city he didn't even visit. An imposant series of fortifications all of them with an incredible number of set of gigantics cannons. He really wondered how can they kept in such great state all this antiques.

Behind this walls was a natural mountain on which a motley city was build on its sides. But, clear distinction was apparent. The base of the city was grey and full of buildings and the more you looked up, the less dense was the architecture even more older. Near the top, clear sign of agriculture finally gave some greens to the megalopole and finally, on top of all this, a castle, an actual castle like in the fairytails, it looked even older than the very ground it was build on.

As he stared, dumbfounded by this oddity, his attention came back to the bridge as the last vehicle exited the city, the great doors closing and the cannons coming to live, moving to point the bottom of the ravine that became the moat of this fortified citadel.

Mart then understood two things, all the tech he was seeing were the state of the art here and clearly and that they were here for a reason.

He couldn't see on what such armament was aimed at, but witnessing how bright the shots and explosions were, it was big.

He opened the -door- directly to the cockpit. The crew didn't noticed, for them, he just passed the door. As they were already happily talking and maybe to him. He took place on an unocupied seat and smiled. This place was incredible.

He had to restraint his feets from tapping and his hands from clapping from excitment.

He was eager to discover this world.

END OF CHAPTER 5

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