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[The Book of the Chosen] - Chapter Eleven - The Room of Doors
2023.05.29 17:33 TheScribe_1 [The Book of the Chosen] - Chapter Eleven - The Room of Doors
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Chapter Eleven - The Room of Doors
‘Get moving!’
Sara watched the men readying their horses, squinting at the bright-ness of the stone. The courtyard was full of the sound of boot-steps and creaking leather. Overhead, a thin veil of rippled grey hung over the early winter sky, and the dawn sun tugged gleaming at its edges. Over-head, the dull black shape of an old stormtower bled the sky. Empty, just like the rest of them. There was something very jarring, Sara de-cided, about the worn jerkins and stubbled cheeks of her father’s men, ensconced in a pillared courtyard of vast stone. They were out of place, and they had been every moment since arriving in Uldoroth, she real-ised. They didn’t belong here. Her own anxiety was mirrored imper-fectly with the relief on their weary faces, and the dark rings under their eyes seemed just a little less deep. There may be Black Hand to deal with, back in the Westmere, but it was home. At least there your ene-mies had the decency to show themselves. Sara realised she was chew-ing her lip. At her back, two of the Black Guard waited wordlessly in their gold-touched armour, much more in keeping with the finery of the courtyard, and everything else in the capital. They were waiting to es-cort her away to the Queen, unaware they found a girl not so eager for the honour as she had been, just a few days before.
‘Father!’ She called out, spying him across the writhing mass of men in their moss green cloaks, but he seemed not to hear her. He was standing near the arched cloister at the far side of the square, cloaked and ready for travel, in hurried conversation with a shaded figure stand-ing beyond the marble facade. She squinted, trying to make out the oth-er man, but there was nothing but a dark shadow to trace.
‘Well then, M’lady.’ A voice said beside her, and she turned to find Halin looking down at her, a kind smile on his broad face. ‘You’ll be a right proper Princess when I next see you, methinks.’
Sara smiled at him and shook her head sheepishly. ‘Uldoroth is not my home, yet, Halin. I won’t forget.’
‘Be careful you don’t, Lady Sara.’ Halin glanced distrustfully at the Black Guard behind her. ‘Lots of fancy folk here. Fancy folk with fan-cier lies.’
‘I’ll be careful, Halin.’ She told him seriously.
He smiled again, and the sternness dissolved away from his face.
‘Take care, M’Lady.’ He told her, dipping his head politely. She re-turned the gesture, dropping into a small curtsy.
‘Look after my father, will you?’
‘Always, M’Lady.’
Halin hurried off into the throng in the square, and Sara watched him go, feeling her the knot in her belly tighten. The conversations with her unexpected visitors had left their mark, a nagging uncertainty gnawing at the excitement that had carried her through her first few uneventful days in the capital. The little comfort she had taken in the presence of her father and his men was a loss she could ill afford. She watched her father’s back, frowning softly to herself. Her thoughts were not what she had imagined, when she had thought of him leaving. A hundred dif-ferent times, and more. Had she expected tears, grief at the parting? Re-lief? Instead, there was only the fear, a dull, leaden weight in her belly, clammy-cold as marsh-water.
‘Come on, you whoresons! I want to be on the road before lunch!’ Halin roared, and the men quickened their work. Her father had not moved, still deep in conversation, just out of sight. She peered a little closer, and for a moment the pale sunlight crept over the top of the square, flashing against a colourful doublet marked with a silver brooch. The Fox’s lips barely moved as he spoke from the shadows of the cloister, and her father was scowling. Sara frowned.
‘Mount up!’
The ornate wagon that had been her home all those weeks trundled into the square, then, drawn by a pair of stout horses. Sara saw her fa-ther turn reluctantly towards it, striding out into the square. Sara peered past him into the cloister, and for a moment Lord Bywood’s sharp eyes caught hers. Then he smiled, dipping his dark, smooth head, and van-ished himself away into the shadows.
‘Father!’
Sara hurried out into the crowded square, leaving her escort behind, darting between the shifting limbs of the horses. Her father turned to-wards her as she approached, and smiled small smile, in two parts, one weary, one sad.
‘Sara.’
She threw her arms around him and pressed her head against his chest for a moment, and he put an arm around her shoulders. She knew her role, and the knowing of it made her safe for a moment. Then she stepped back, looking up at him.
‘I thought you were going to leave without saying goodbye.’
‘I… There was much preparation to do.’
Sara did not reply. His eyes had that same distance that they had had since they arrived in the capital. Uldoroth had worn at him, as if all the brightness and finery had made his skin dull, eyes darkened like the contrast of shadows in bright sun.
‘Will you write?’
He blinked as she spoke, then smiled, and the tiredness fell away from him for a moment. He took her chin gently in one hand, tilting it up to meet his eyes.
‘Yes, I will write.’ He told her, and she saw again that fierce ambi-tion in his eyes, the look she had known so well on their journey from the Westmere. Swollen around the soft, lazy ease of diminished strength. ‘And I shall expect news in return. The Rose of Westmere will show these fools how a real lady charms.’
Sara smiled and lowered her eyes self-consciously.
‘I… I will not disappoint you, father.’ She said quietly, and found, in spite of herself, that there were tears in her eyes.
‘See that you do not.’ He replied. Then he let go of her chin and climbed quickly into the carriage. He leaned out from the window for a moment, before they were gone, banging a hand against the wooden panels of the door impatiently.
‘Move out!’
‘You heard him!’ Halin bellowed in response, holding his horse in check beneath him. ‘Back to Westmere, before your wives go stray-ing!’
With that, her father’s men spurred their horses away into the white corridors of the citadel, bound for the sky-cages and the city below. They had arrived on foot, leading their steeds, but they left by horse-back, hurried by grave purpose towards the long road west. She watched the window of the carriage as it trundled away with the horses, but her father did not appear again. She stayed there, staring after them, until the party were out of sight and the great gate of the keep heaved closed behind them, slamming into the distant stone with a resounding thud.
‘M’Lady.’
She turned to find the Black Guard waiting, watching her with dark eyes through the narrow slits of their polished helms. For a moment, the suddenness of the departure threatened to overwhelm her. What was it he had told her, slurring over his unfinished dinner, in the pristine per-fection of their lodgings, surrounded by invisible eyes? Power belongs to the strong. To those who take it. Just then, standing in the courtyard, watching alone as her father departed, she realised that he was right. And he wasn’t strong enough. She took a deep breath, smiling for the Black Guard, and followed them out of the ancient courtyard into the halls beyond.
*
The broad, open avenues and garden-ways of the Keep of Eranor closed in to interior corridors rather quickly, when you knew the way, and soon Sara was following her black-gilded escort through pale pas-sageways lined with statuettes and tapestries, ceilings lost far overhead to the flickering light of amber flames. An occasional glimpse of pale sunlight leaped out across the stone floor, shimmering through shifting motes of dust. Sara was her Lady-self again, graceful and poised, glid-ing over the polished floor after her escort. The giant corridors were a maze of twists and turns, past fragment-views of gardens and libraries and sitting-halls and galleries, but she was dimly aware they were mov-ing towards the Hall of the King. The thought made her a little giddy.
‘Will I be received in the King’s Hall?’ She asked as they walked, but the Black Guards didn’t reply, and their armour clinked in the quiet. Sara frowned, following them. The passage curved, rising, and she found that the wall on her right side suddenly gave way to the hall be-low. One of the galleries, set high in the rafters of the King’s Hall. She stopped, putting her hand on the balustrade and peering out over the ledge, into the vaulted, silent emptiness of the hall. Some fifty foot be-low, the patterned black and white marble of the floor gleamed in flashes of reflected amber, quiet and empty. At the far end, pale sun-light caught the Night Throne, setting fire in the mirrored stone. Over-head, the matching nightglass ceiling gleamed like a lake in starlight, and swirling figures swept back and forth across it in the shifting light of the chamber. Sara felt a little thrill run over her neck.
‘Sara.’
Sara blinked, starting, and found Dana standing beside her.
‘Sister!’ Sara took hold of her sister’s hands and rose onto her tip-toes, pressing a kiss against her cheek. ‘Here to welcome me into the fold?’
She was struck again by the strangeness of her sister, the difference in her. Dana wore black, a dress of simple lines and inlaid jet, at once relaxed and taut as a lute string. Her pale hands were folded over her belly, and her muddy dark hair was pulled back into a bun. The Black Guards halted behind her, waiting.
‘I am to escort you to the Queen’s chambers.’ Dana said simply. With that she turned and began to walk away along the balcony, to-wards a closed door at the throne-end of the hall. Sara frowned, hurry-ing after her.
‘Do the King and Queen not share chambers?’ She asked as they walked, and the hall below drew on beside them.
‘Their Majesties prefer… to keep their own space.’
The Black Guard fell into step at a respectful distance behind them, armoured heels clicking against the stone.
‘How many others are there?’
‘How many what?’
‘Handmaidens. How many does her Majesty keep?’
Dana did not break stride. ‘Two others, and the Matron.’
‘I suppose we shall not have servants of our own.’ Sara said quietly, eyeing the shadows shifting over the nightglass ceiling. ‘No need to spy on us when we are so close.’
‘Sara-’ Dana began, but Sara cut her off.
‘Father is gone, you know. This morning.’
‘I know.’ Dana replied, looking ahead.
‘You did not come to see him.’
Dana did not turn.
‘I’m sure he will miss you terribly, sister.’
Sara bristled suddenly, grabbing her sister’s arm.
‘I did not ask for it!’
Dana looked down at the hand on her arm, frowning. ‘What?’
‘Any of it!’ Sara told her, angry now, her whisper cracking. ‘I didn’t ask to stay. I didn’t ask him to send you away. I would have given any-thing to go with you. I thought he would never let me leave.’ She low-ered her voice, flicking an eye back towards the waiting guards. ‘I did not ask for the way he… the way he…’
She took a breath, swallowing, and straightened, looking her sister in the eye.
‘There are worse things than being ignored, Dana.’
Dana’s hand folded over hers.
‘Let’s… let’s put it behind us.’ She said quietly. ‘You are here, now.’
Sara blinked at her, nodding. She wanted to say more, but her words would not come, locked away from her tongue by the choked gulping of her breath. She lowered her eyes, and Dana squeezed her hand.
‘Sara, listen to me.’ Dana murmured, leaning close. ‘You must be careful. The Queen-’
The door at the far end of the gallery swung open, creaking on its hinges. The pair fell silent, frozen, and whatever Dana might have said, she held instead.
*
‘Wait here.’
The Matron, the head of the Queen’s Keepers, was an elderly wom-an with rounding hips and hair the colour of ash tied into a tight bun behind the worn-leather creases of her forehead. She was wearing black, same as Dana, though her smock was somehow plainer, when she opened the door onto the gallery, ushering the sisters wordlessly in-to the corridor beyond. Dana had bowed her head deferentially, wither-ing under the Matron’s hard eyes, and quickly disappeared into one of the many doors of the hallway. Sara almost asked for her to stay, but instead she steeled herself, remembering her lessons, and followed the stern old woman down the long, flickering hallway. The corridors of the keep were all severe, all lit by weak, flickering torchlight and gleaming the gleam of cold stone, but here they were particularly bare. There were no busts, no tapestries, no mosaics. Nothing but cold, dead rock, lent a little life by the dim thrustings of infrequent braziers. In her own apartments, she had understood the quiet, but here, in the keep proper, there was an eery silence to the corridors that jarred with Sara’s anticipation. Where were the nobles in their gay clothes, where was the music and laughter of a King’s Hall? Sara frowned to herself, and kept walking.
The room at the end of the hallway was broad and rounded, like a kind of circle made out of many flat edges, each holding the low light of a brazier. The marble floors were black and white and patterned like a gamesboard, empty but for a broad nightwood table at its centre, matching the room itself for its odd roundness. On the far side, a wall of shutters opened out onto a large, bare balcony, and over the intricate-ly wrought stone balustrade, Sara could see the City of the Moon be-low, sweeping away towards the edge of the Heartspire, empty stormtowers stabbing black into the sky. Beyond, the great emerald plains of Valia stretched out into the west, past the fiery line of the river Arq, scored with jagged, dark rock and silver streams. Sara swallowed, realising she’d never been so high up.
‘Wait here.’
‘But-‘ She protested, frowning, but the Matron was already gone, turned on her heel and disappeared back the way she had come. Sara flinched as the door slammed shut behind her, and the silence of the room prickled at her skin. The breeze rustled over the balcony, swirling about the pillared windows, but the air inside was still as the grave. She stepped slowly over to the table, touching the polished wood. This much nightwood would have cost more than a wagonload of gold. She traced the knotted lines across the black surface, trying to ignore the cold weight churning in her gut.
Time stretched on around her, and the minutes dragged by like years. Despite the open air flooding through the windows, the chamber was not cool, warmed by the subtle glow of the braziers, and she felt a little wetness beginning to build under her arms. She looked about her-self, trying to calm her heart. There were four other doors in the room, besides the one they had entered through, all dark and heavy looking, and each bore a pattern of silver on its face. There was a cradle, and opposite it, a pendant with teeth like a wolf. Beside the cradle door, a small drinks table, a glass jug of purple wine atop it, with a pair of matching glasses. The two doors closest to the balcony bore a sun and a crescent moon. She looked a little closer, and realised that the markings were not moonsilver, merely an imitation in gleaming silver paint, and the door she had entered through bore no markings at all. Sara watched them, imagining the rooms that lay behind each. Which one was the Queen behind, she wondered, and her heart quickened at the thought, stomach churning. She was stranded, here, now, in the capital. What if the Queen didn’t like her? What if she said something wrong? Would she be sent away again, back to her father?
‘Lady Westmere.’
The crescent moon had swung open, and the Queen glided through, a beautiful shadow in a studded black dress, arms glistening with little sharpened sequins the colour of midnight. Her hair had been contorted into an elaborate maze of raven curls over her pate, and her pale skin took on a translucent sheen in the pale light from the balcony doors. The throat of her dress was open, as it had been in the King’s Hall all those days ago, and she wore the same golden necklace, its myriad points sharp like daggers with their drops of ruby blood.
Sara blinked, then remembered herself, and dropped into a low curt-sy, bowing her head.
‘Your Majesty.’ She said quietly, keeping her eyes on the floor.
The Queen did not reply. Sara was dimly aware of her shadow mov-ing across the floor, crossing to the drinks table beside the cradle door. Sara risked a glance up, then, and found the Queen’s slender back to her. When she at last turned, she had a glass goblet of wine clutched in her narrow fingers. Sara lowered her eyes again.
‘You are a pretty one, aren’t you.’ The Queen said quietly, as if to herself. Her voice was cold, like ice leaking over lakewater, deep and still. She took a sip from her cup, and Sara could feel the cut of her eyes against her skin. ‘What did the Weasel of Westmere do to sire such a pretty daughter. Your sister, maybe, I understand, but you…’
Sara forced herself not to frown.
‘Well trained, I see.’ The Queen murmured, smiling coldly. She took another sip of her wine. ‘Your mother’s touch, I assume, not your fa-ther’s.’
Sara hesitated. She glanced up at the Queen, then lowered her eyes again, nodding.
‘I hear she is unwell.’
Sara looked up again, braver this time, and found the Queen’s dark eyes watching her over the rim of her glass.
‘She has an affliction, Your Majesty. She does not eat, and rarely sleeps. The Keepers say it is a disease of her mind.’
‘The one thing none of us can escape.’ The Queen sighed, toying idly with her glass and looking out of the window over the city below. ‘Still, there are worse places to be sickly than a Lord’s hall.’
‘I suppose… I suppose that is true, Your Majesty.’
The Queen raised an eyebrow. ‘Suppose, do you?’
Sara squirmed for a moment under the weight of her eyes, but then the Queen turned away, stepping slowly around the edge of the table till she was standing beside the open windows. She took another sip of her wine, back to Sara again.
‘Your sister met you, this morning.’
Sara hesitated, thrown for a moment by the abruptness of the state-ment.
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
‘And she came to you yesterday, in the apartments Bywood found for you.’
‘Yes.’ Sara felt the cold weight return in her belly. She thought of what the Fox had warned her. There is always someone watching. She cast her mind back to her conversations with Dana. Gods. What had they spoken of? Had she said something out of turn?
‘Curious, that she did not seek out your father.’
Sara let out her breath slowly. That was not a particularly well-hidden curiosity.
‘Dana must have been very busy, Your Majesty.’
‘She is as busy as I make her, and that is rarely too taxing.’
Sara sighed. ‘They have… sometimes not seen eye to eye.’
‘And you?’ The Queen turned as she spoke, fixing her eyes to Sara’s again. Behind her, the distant sounds of the city drifted lazily up through the air, swirling around far-off columns of wispy smoke. ‘What do you say of him?’
Sara hesitated again, stuttering. ‘He is my father, Your Majesty. I trust that he always knows what is best for his daughters.’
‘In my experience it is fathers who know the least about their own daughters.’ The Queen replied dryly, sipping again. ‘Come, let me look at you, then.’
She came back around the nightwood table, her long, narrow limbs gliding over the polished floor, and stopped in front of Sara, setting her glass down beside them. She took Sara’s chin in two spindly fingers and tilted it upwards so that she was looking her in the eye, only a few inches from her face. Sara realised again how tall she was, as tall as her father, at least, though her slender frame made her seem much smaller. She tried not to squirm, but she found that the Queen’s fingers dug un-comfortably into her chin, dark eyes flitting back and forth across her face like a hungry wolf.
‘Yes, very pretty.’ She said at last, not releasing her chin. Sara could feel her breath on her face, smelling softly of dark wine. ‘No wonder. You look like her, you know.’
‘Who-‘ but the Queen had already turned away, back to the table, picking up her wineglass in one bone-stretched hand.
‘The Matron will meet you outside. She will give you your tasks and show you to your chamber. You will begin tomorrow.’
Sara flinched, realising she had been holding her breath. She curt-sied to the Queen’s back, suddenly a little giddy.
‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’
‘You may go, girl.’
Sara turned to go, not at all sure what to make of the encounter. She paused at the door, looking back over her shoulder, but found the Queen looking out over the city silently again, wineglass in hand, black dress glistening with jet. Sara hesitated a moment longer, then hurried out into the corridor beyond the unmarked door, closing it behind her.
*
The night before her father leaves, she wakes in darkness.
She does not open her eyes, but she knows it is not yet dawn. The sounds of the garden beyond her shutters are soft and murmuring, wind-stirred and drip-spotted.
She can feel him over her, the tense stillness of him, closer than shadows. He smells of wine. Sweat. She is cold, but she does not move. She dares not move. She can feel the weight of his eyes, dulled with drink, tracing the lines of her. His breathing sounds like anger.
She does not know how long she waits there, frozen. But she does not open her eyes. Not once. Time stretches out before her in that mo-ment, an eternity of breathless terror.
Then he leaves. The smell of him lingers long after the door has closed behind him. She lays there a while longer, motionless, dead as stone. Then she curls into her own arms, and weeps silently until the dawn.
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Chapter Eleven - The Room of Doors
‘Get moving!’
Sara watched the men readying their horses, squinting at the bright-ness of the stone. The courtyard was full of the sound of boot-steps and creaking leather. Overhead, a thin veil of rippled grey hung over the early winter sky, and the dawn sun tugged gleaming at its edges. Over-head, the dull black shape of an old stormtower bled the sky. Empty, just like the rest of them. There was something very jarring, Sara de-cided, about the worn jerkins and stubbled cheeks of her father’s men, ensconced in a pillared courtyard of vast stone. They were out of place, and they had been every moment since arriving in Uldoroth, she real-ised. They didn’t belong here. Her own anxiety was mirrored imper-fectly with the relief on their weary faces, and the dark rings under their eyes seemed just a little less deep. There may be Black Hand to deal with, back in the Westmere, but it was home. At least there your ene-mies had the decency to show themselves. Sara realised she was chew-ing her lip. At her back, two of the Black Guard waited wordlessly in their gold-touched armour, much more in keeping with the finery of the courtyard, and everything else in the capital. They were waiting to es-cort her away to the Queen, unaware they found a girl not so eager for the honour as she had been, just a few days before.
‘Father!’ She called out, spying him across the writhing mass of men in their moss green cloaks, but he seemed not to hear her. He was standing near the arched cloister at the far side of the square, cloaked and ready for travel, in hurried conversation with a shaded figure stand-ing beyond the marble facade. She squinted, trying to make out the oth-er man, but there was nothing but a dark shadow to trace.
‘Well then, M’lady.’ A voice said beside her, and she turned to find Halin looking down at her, a kind smile on his broad face. ‘You’ll be a right proper Princess when I next see you, methinks.’
Sara smiled at him and shook her head sheepishly. ‘Uldoroth is not my home, yet, Halin. I won’t forget.’
‘Be careful you don’t, Lady Sara.’ Halin glanced distrustfully at the Black Guard behind her. ‘Lots of fancy folk here. Fancy folk with fan-cier lies.’
‘I’ll be careful, Halin.’ She told him seriously.
He smiled again, and the sternness dissolved away from his face.
‘Take care, M’Lady.’ He told her, dipping his head politely. She re-turned the gesture, dropping into a small curtsy.
‘Look after my father, will you?’
‘Always, M’Lady.’
Halin hurried off into the throng in the square, and Sara watched him go, feeling her the knot in her belly tighten. The conversations with her unexpected visitors had left their mark, a nagging uncertainty gnawing at the excitement that had carried her through her first few uneventful days in the capital. The little comfort she had taken in the presence of her father and his men was a loss she could ill afford. She watched her father’s back, frowning softly to herself. Her thoughts were not what she had imagined, when she had thought of him leaving. A hundred dif-ferent times, and more. Had she expected tears, grief at the parting? Re-lief? Instead, there was only the fear, a dull, leaden weight in her belly, clammy-cold as marsh-water.
‘Come on, you whoresons! I want to be on the road before lunch!’ Halin roared, and the men quickened their work. Her father had not moved, still deep in conversation, just out of sight. She peered a little closer, and for a moment the pale sunlight crept over the top of the square, flashing against a colourful doublet marked with a silver brooch. The Fox’s lips barely moved as he spoke from the shadows of the cloister, and her father was scowling. Sara frowned.
‘Mount up!’
The ornate wagon that had been her home all those weeks trundled into the square, then, drawn by a pair of stout horses. Sara saw her fa-ther turn reluctantly towards it, striding out into the square. Sara peered past him into the cloister, and for a moment Lord Bywood’s sharp eyes caught hers. Then he smiled, dipping his dark, smooth head, and van-ished himself away into the shadows.
‘Father!’
Sara hurried out into the crowded square, leaving her escort behind, darting between the shifting limbs of the horses. Her father turned to-wards her as she approached, and smiled small smile, in two parts, one weary, one sad.
‘Sara.’
She threw her arms around him and pressed her head against his chest for a moment, and he put an arm around her shoulders. She knew her role, and the knowing of it made her safe for a moment. Then she stepped back, looking up at him.
‘I thought you were going to leave without saying goodbye.’
‘I… There was much preparation to do.’
Sara did not reply. His eyes had that same distance that they had had since they arrived in the capital. Uldoroth had worn at him, as if all the brightness and finery had made his skin dull, eyes darkened like the contrast of shadows in bright sun.
‘Will you write?’
He blinked as she spoke, then smiled, and the tiredness fell away from him for a moment. He took her chin gently in one hand, tilting it up to meet his eyes.
‘Yes, I will write.’ He told her, and she saw again that fierce ambi-tion in his eyes, the look she had known so well on their journey from the Westmere. Swollen around the soft, lazy ease of diminished strength. ‘And I shall expect news in return. The Rose of Westmere will show these fools how a real lady charms.’
Sara smiled and lowered her eyes self-consciously.
‘I… I will not disappoint you, father.’ She said quietly, and found, in spite of herself, that there were tears in her eyes.
‘See that you do not.’ He replied. Then he let go of her chin and climbed quickly into the carriage. He leaned out from the window for a moment, before they were gone, banging a hand against the wooden panels of the door impatiently.
‘Move out!’
‘You heard him!’ Halin bellowed in response, holding his horse in check beneath him. ‘Back to Westmere, before your wives go stray-ing!’
With that, her father’s men spurred their horses away into the white corridors of the citadel, bound for the sky-cages and the city below. They had arrived on foot, leading their steeds, but they left by horse-back, hurried by grave purpose towards the long road west. She watched the window of the carriage as it trundled away with the horses, but her father did not appear again. She stayed there, staring after them, until the party were out of sight and the great gate of the keep heaved closed behind them, slamming into the distant stone with a resounding thud.
‘M’Lady.’
She turned to find the Black Guard waiting, watching her with dark eyes through the narrow slits of their polished helms. For a moment, the suddenness of the departure threatened to overwhelm her. What was it he had told her, slurring over his unfinished dinner, in the pristine per-fection of their lodgings, surrounded by invisible eyes? Power belongs to the strong. To those who take it. Just then, standing in the courtyard, watching alone as her father departed, she realised that he was right. And he wasn’t strong enough. She took a deep breath, smiling for the Black Guard, and followed them out of the ancient courtyard into the halls beyond.
*
The broad, open avenues and garden-ways of the Keep of Eranor closed in to interior corridors rather quickly, when you knew the way, and soon Sara was following her black-gilded escort through pale pas-sageways lined with statuettes and tapestries, ceilings lost far overhead to the flickering light of amber flames. An occasional glimpse of pale sunlight leaped out across the stone floor, shimmering through shifting motes of dust. Sara was her Lady-self again, graceful and poised, glid-ing over the polished floor after her escort. The giant corridors were a maze of twists and turns, past fragment-views of gardens and libraries and sitting-halls and galleries, but she was dimly aware they were mov-ing towards the Hall of the King. The thought made her a little giddy.
‘Will I be received in the King’s Hall?’ She asked as they walked, but the Black Guards didn’t reply, and their armour clinked in the quiet. Sara frowned, following them. The passage curved, rising, and she found that the wall on her right side suddenly gave way to the hall be-low. One of the galleries, set high in the rafters of the King’s Hall. She stopped, putting her hand on the balustrade and peering out over the ledge, into the vaulted, silent emptiness of the hall. Some fifty foot be-low, the patterned black and white marble of the floor gleamed in flashes of reflected amber, quiet and empty. At the far end, pale sun-light caught the Night Throne, setting fire in the mirrored stone. Over-head, the matching nightglass ceiling gleamed like a lake in starlight, and swirling figures swept back and forth across it in the shifting light of the chamber. Sara felt a little thrill run over her neck.
‘Sara.’
Sara blinked, starting, and found Dana standing beside her.
‘Sister!’ Sara took hold of her sister’s hands and rose onto her tip-toes, pressing a kiss against her cheek. ‘Here to welcome me into the fold?’
She was struck again by the strangeness of her sister, the difference in her. Dana wore black, a dress of simple lines and inlaid jet, at once relaxed and taut as a lute string. Her pale hands were folded over her belly, and her muddy dark hair was pulled back into a bun. The Black Guards halted behind her, waiting.
‘I am to escort you to the Queen’s chambers.’ Dana said simply. With that she turned and began to walk away along the balcony, to-wards a closed door at the throne-end of the hall. Sara frowned, hurry-ing after her.
‘Do the King and Queen not share chambers?’ She asked as they walked, and the hall below drew on beside them.
‘Their Majesties prefer… to keep their own space.’
The Black Guard fell into step at a respectful distance behind them, armoured heels clicking against the stone.
‘How many others are there?’
‘How many what?’
‘Handmaidens. How many does her Majesty keep?’
Dana did not break stride. ‘Two others, and the Matron.’
‘I suppose we shall not have servants of our own.’ Sara said quietly, eyeing the shadows shifting over the nightglass ceiling. ‘No need to spy on us when we are so close.’
‘Sara-’ Dana began, but Sara cut her off.
‘Father is gone, you know. This morning.’
‘I know.’ Dana replied, looking ahead.
‘You did not come to see him.’
Dana did not turn.
‘I’m sure he will miss you terribly, sister.’
Sara bristled suddenly, grabbing her sister’s arm.
‘I did not ask for it!’
Dana looked down at the hand on her arm, frowning. ‘What?’
‘Any of it!’ Sara told her, angry now, her whisper cracking. ‘I didn’t ask to stay. I didn’t ask him to send you away. I would have given any-thing to go with you. I thought he would never let me leave.’ She low-ered her voice, flicking an eye back towards the waiting guards. ‘I did not ask for the way he… the way he…’
She took a breath, swallowing, and straightened, looking her sister in the eye.
‘There are worse things than being ignored, Dana.’
Dana’s hand folded over hers.
‘Let’s… let’s put it behind us.’ She said quietly. ‘You are here, now.’
Sara blinked at her, nodding. She wanted to say more, but her words would not come, locked away from her tongue by the choked gulping of her breath. She lowered her eyes, and Dana squeezed her hand.
‘Sara, listen to me.’ Dana murmured, leaning close. ‘You must be careful. The Queen-’
The door at the far end of the gallery swung open, creaking on its hinges. The pair fell silent, frozen, and whatever Dana might have said, she held instead.
*
‘Wait here.’
The Matron, the head of the Queen’s Keepers, was an elderly wom-an with rounding hips and hair the colour of ash tied into a tight bun behind the worn-leather creases of her forehead. She was wearing black, same as Dana, though her smock was somehow plainer, when she opened the door onto the gallery, ushering the sisters wordlessly in-to the corridor beyond. Dana had bowed her head deferentially, wither-ing under the Matron’s hard eyes, and quickly disappeared into one of the many doors of the hallway. Sara almost asked for her to stay, but instead she steeled herself, remembering her lessons, and followed the stern old woman down the long, flickering hallway. The corridors of the keep were all severe, all lit by weak, flickering torchlight and gleaming the gleam of cold stone, but here they were particularly bare. There were no busts, no tapestries, no mosaics. Nothing but cold, dead rock, lent a little life by the dim thrustings of infrequent braziers. In her own apartments, she had understood the quiet, but here, in the keep proper, there was an eery silence to the corridors that jarred with Sara’s anticipation. Where were the nobles in their gay clothes, where was the music and laughter of a King’s Hall? Sara frowned to herself, and kept walking.
The room at the end of the hallway was broad and rounded, like a kind of circle made out of many flat edges, each holding the low light of a brazier. The marble floors were black and white and patterned like a gamesboard, empty but for a broad nightwood table at its centre, matching the room itself for its odd roundness. On the far side, a wall of shutters opened out onto a large, bare balcony, and over the intricate-ly wrought stone balustrade, Sara could see the City of the Moon be-low, sweeping away towards the edge of the Heartspire, empty stormtowers stabbing black into the sky. Beyond, the great emerald plains of Valia stretched out into the west, past the fiery line of the river Arq, scored with jagged, dark rock and silver streams. Sara swallowed, realising she’d never been so high up.
‘Wait here.’
‘But-‘ She protested, frowning, but the Matron was already gone, turned on her heel and disappeared back the way she had come. Sara flinched as the door slammed shut behind her, and the silence of the room prickled at her skin. The breeze rustled over the balcony, swirling about the pillared windows, but the air inside was still as the grave. She stepped slowly over to the table, touching the polished wood. This much nightwood would have cost more than a wagonload of gold. She traced the knotted lines across the black surface, trying to ignore the cold weight churning in her gut.
Time stretched on around her, and the minutes dragged by like years. Despite the open air flooding through the windows, the chamber was not cool, warmed by the subtle glow of the braziers, and she felt a little wetness beginning to build under her arms. She looked about her-self, trying to calm her heart. There were four other doors in the room, besides the one they had entered through, all dark and heavy looking, and each bore a pattern of silver on its face. There was a cradle, and opposite it, a pendant with teeth like a wolf. Beside the cradle door, a small drinks table, a glass jug of purple wine atop it, with a pair of matching glasses. The two doors closest to the balcony bore a sun and a crescent moon. She looked a little closer, and realised that the markings were not moonsilver, merely an imitation in gleaming silver paint, and the door she had entered through bore no markings at all. Sara watched them, imagining the rooms that lay behind each. Which one was the Queen behind, she wondered, and her heart quickened at the thought, stomach churning. She was stranded, here, now, in the capital. What if the Queen didn’t like her? What if she said something wrong? Would she be sent away again, back to her father?
‘Lady Westmere.’
The crescent moon had swung open, and the Queen glided through, a beautiful shadow in a studded black dress, arms glistening with little sharpened sequins the colour of midnight. Her hair had been contorted into an elaborate maze of raven curls over her pate, and her pale skin took on a translucent sheen in the pale light from the balcony doors. The throat of her dress was open, as it had been in the King’s Hall all those days ago, and she wore the same golden necklace, its myriad points sharp like daggers with their drops of ruby blood.
Sara blinked, then remembered herself, and dropped into a low curt-sy, bowing her head.
‘Your Majesty.’ She said quietly, keeping her eyes on the floor.
The Queen did not reply. Sara was dimly aware of her shadow mov-ing across the floor, crossing to the drinks table beside the cradle door. Sara risked a glance up, then, and found the Queen’s slender back to her. When she at last turned, she had a glass goblet of wine clutched in her narrow fingers. Sara lowered her eyes again.
‘You are a pretty one, aren’t you.’ The Queen said quietly, as if to herself. Her voice was cold, like ice leaking over lakewater, deep and still. She took a sip from her cup, and Sara could feel the cut of her eyes against her skin. ‘What did the Weasel of Westmere do to sire such a pretty daughter. Your sister, maybe, I understand, but you…’
Sara forced herself not to frown.
‘Well trained, I see.’ The Queen murmured, smiling coldly. She took another sip of her wine. ‘Your mother’s touch, I assume, not your fa-ther’s.’
Sara hesitated. She glanced up at the Queen, then lowered her eyes again, nodding.
‘I hear she is unwell.’
Sara looked up again, braver this time, and found the Queen’s dark eyes watching her over the rim of her glass.
‘She has an affliction, Your Majesty. She does not eat, and rarely sleeps. The Keepers say it is a disease of her mind.’
‘The one thing none of us can escape.’ The Queen sighed, toying idly with her glass and looking out of the window over the city below. ‘Still, there are worse places to be sickly than a Lord’s hall.’
‘I suppose… I suppose that is true, Your Majesty.’
The Queen raised an eyebrow. ‘Suppose, do you?’
Sara squirmed for a moment under the weight of her eyes, but then the Queen turned away, stepping slowly around the edge of the table till she was standing beside the open windows. She took another sip of her wine, back to Sara again.
‘Your sister met you, this morning.’
Sara hesitated, thrown for a moment by the abruptness of the state-ment.
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
‘And she came to you yesterday, in the apartments Bywood found for you.’
‘Yes.’ Sara felt the cold weight return in her belly. She thought of what the Fox had warned her. There is always someone watching. She cast her mind back to her conversations with Dana. Gods. What had they spoken of? Had she said something out of turn?
‘Curious, that she did not seek out your father.’
Sara let out her breath slowly. That was not a particularly well-hidden curiosity.
‘Dana must have been very busy, Your Majesty.’
‘She is as busy as I make her, and that is rarely too taxing.’
Sara sighed. ‘They have… sometimes not seen eye to eye.’
‘And you?’ The Queen turned as she spoke, fixing her eyes to Sara’s again. Behind her, the distant sounds of the city drifted lazily up through the air, swirling around far-off columns of wispy smoke. ‘What do you say of him?’
Sara hesitated again, stuttering. ‘He is my father, Your Majesty. I trust that he always knows what is best for his daughters.’
‘In my experience it is fathers who know the least about their own daughters.’ The Queen replied dryly, sipping again. ‘Come, let me look at you, then.’
She came back around the nightwood table, her long, narrow limbs gliding over the polished floor, and stopped in front of Sara, setting her glass down beside them. She took Sara’s chin in two spindly fingers and tilted it upwards so that she was looking her in the eye, only a few inches from her face. Sara realised again how tall she was, as tall as her father, at least, though her slender frame made her seem much smaller. She tried not to squirm, but she found that the Queen’s fingers dug un-comfortably into her chin, dark eyes flitting back and forth across her face like a hungry wolf.
‘Yes, very pretty.’ She said at last, not releasing her chin. Sara could feel her breath on her face, smelling softly of dark wine. ‘No wonder. You look like her, you know.’
‘Who-‘ but the Queen had already turned away, back to the table, picking up her wineglass in one bone-stretched hand.
‘The Matron will meet you outside. She will give you your tasks and show you to your chamber. You will begin tomorrow.’
Sara flinched, realising she had been holding her breath. She curt-sied to the Queen’s back, suddenly a little giddy.
‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’
‘You may go, girl.’
Sara turned to go, not at all sure what to make of the encounter. She paused at the door, looking back over her shoulder, but found the Queen looking out over the city silently again, wineglass in hand, black dress glistening with jet. Sara hesitated a moment longer, then hurried out into the corridor beyond the unmarked door, closing it behind her.
*
The night before her father leaves, she wakes in darkness.
She does not open her eyes, but she knows it is not yet dawn. The sounds of the garden beyond her shutters are soft and murmuring, wind-stirred and drip-spotted.
She can feel him over her, the tense stillness of him, closer than shadows. He smells of wine. Sweat. She is cold, but she does not move. She dares not move. She can feel the weight of his eyes, dulled with drink, tracing the lines of her. His breathing sounds like anger.
She does not know how long she waits there, frozen. But she does not open her eyes. Not once. Time stretches out before her in that mo-ment, an eternity of breathless terror.
Then he leaves. The smell of him lingers long after the door has closed behind him. She lays there a while longer, motionless, dead as stone. Then she curls into her own arms, and weeps silently until the dawn.
2023.05.29 17:32 Momothekiller I think I dreamed of the Wendigo
Hello Wendigo enthusiasts, This is my first time hearing about this subreddit, but after googling for answers about my strange Wendigo dream I stumbled across a recommendation to get my answers here, so...here I am.
A couple of months ago, I believe I dreamed of a wendigo. In the dream I was laying in my bed. I recalled conversations with native people I have never met telling me if I dream of "him" to not look at him and to not acknowledge "his" presence whatever that means. It was weird, I still don't understand why that was something my subconscious decided to conjure up. Anyways, I should provide some context. I do enjoy listening to scary stories or compilations of urban legends. In fact, I've watched my fair share of Wendigo related content. Horror is something I find really interesting, but I don't remember learning the knowledge that was in my dream whether I forgot and my subconscious decided to suddenly drag up I'm not sure.
To continue my explanation, in the dream I remember something crawling onto my bed. His head resembled a deer skull, the eyes were pure black and hallow. The body was furry and thin but not completely humanoid or animal like. It was a weird combination. In the back of my mind I recalled someone tell me not to look at "him" or acknowledge "him" to not move so much as an inch. Just pretend "he" isn't there. Well I didn't listen to that in my dream, but I was oddly calm. It didn't feel evil at all and I wasn't scared. My body wouldn't move however, so I'm not sure if I was having a moment of sleep paralysis? I heard people are frightened and can't breathe during something like this, but I wasn't frightened and from what I can remember, I was breathing fine.
The rest of the dream is a blur as it has been a while since I had this dream. I know he showed up a couple more times in the dream, but nothing bad ever happened.
Now the reason I'm posting this is so I can get some answers. Does this sound like a Wendigo and what does it mean if I dream of a Wendigo? I'm not sure if it is, but that is the best way I can describe what saw in my dreams. If anyone has any ideas or answers please let me know. This dream has been on my mind for a while now with no real conclusion to it. It could've just been a weird fever dream, as I have very very vivid dreams.
submitted by Momothekiller to WendigoStories [link] [comments]
A couple of months ago, I believe I dreamed of a wendigo. In the dream I was laying in my bed. I recalled conversations with native people I have never met telling me if I dream of "him" to not look at him and to not acknowledge "his" presence whatever that means. It was weird, I still don't understand why that was something my subconscious decided to conjure up. Anyways, I should provide some context. I do enjoy listening to scary stories or compilations of urban legends. In fact, I've watched my fair share of Wendigo related content. Horror is something I find really interesting, but I don't remember learning the knowledge that was in my dream whether I forgot and my subconscious decided to suddenly drag up I'm not sure.
To continue my explanation, in the dream I remember something crawling onto my bed. His head resembled a deer skull, the eyes were pure black and hallow. The body was furry and thin but not completely humanoid or animal like. It was a weird combination. In the back of my mind I recalled someone tell me not to look at "him" or acknowledge "him" to not move so much as an inch. Just pretend "he" isn't there. Well I didn't listen to that in my dream, but I was oddly calm. It didn't feel evil at all and I wasn't scared. My body wouldn't move however, so I'm not sure if I was having a moment of sleep paralysis? I heard people are frightened and can't breathe during something like this, but I wasn't frightened and from what I can remember, I was breathing fine.
The rest of the dream is a blur as it has been a while since I had this dream. I know he showed up a couple more times in the dream, but nothing bad ever happened.
Now the reason I'm posting this is so I can get some answers. Does this sound like a Wendigo and what does it mean if I dream of a Wendigo? I'm not sure if it is, but that is the best way I can describe what saw in my dreams. If anyone has any ideas or answers please let me know. This dream has been on my mind for a while now with no real conclusion to it. It could've just been a weird fever dream, as I have very very vivid dreams.
2023.05.29 17:22 Mission-Raccoon9432 Character Study: The Full Truth about Gorou Amamiya or Aqua Hoshino PART I
Hello again!
Actually my head hurts and my back hurts too. Maybe even my heart. I wrote this essay for 2 days straight. It is of better quality than my previous pieces, both in content and style. It's also the longest so I felt an obligation to deliver it as interesting as possible. Extensive essays are pretty tendious, I'm aware but I think I created an insightful and stimulating analysis for a character that doesn't get the attention he deserves. This is not just a hollow phrase, as I claim this essay uncovers unheard of depths of Gorou Amamiya respectively Aqua Hoshino.
Preamble
In the past we discussed Ruby's genius during her Audition with Frill and Akane. To sum it up: She's acting her whole life as the innocent and pure idol girl Ruby Hoshino but what fuels the encryption of her true self is her traumatized core identity as Sarina which she hides through acting.
Since this identity was passed down to her new life, her trauma was likewise passed down as well and as a result it predispositions her new life's psyche. After the loss of Ai and Gorou she yet again finds herself trapped in a repetitive cycle of her previous trauma of parental abandonment. That's why in her deep reflection during the audition she would overlap Sarina's and Ruby's psychograms seamlessly. It's the same all over again.
We discussed yesterday Gorou as Ruby's father figure while evidently Ai had a function as a mother figure to her (to Sarina actually) - or to be more precise the loss of both as surrogate parential figures associated as dear to her heart people triggered Sarina's trauma of an abandoned child through Ruby again. This in short is the nature of her repetitive traumatic cycle. Sarina-Ruby is acting a smile in both lifes while nobody seems to notice the ugly feelings deep inside her. Even when she had a reverse act coming out at the audition, Frill and Akane wouldn't conceive that these feelings weren't part of her auditional act but actually the naked truth.
However the point of this essay is not to talk about Ruby - although she will certainly be useful - but this time to explore to which extent the predisposition from the past life and the traumatic repetitive cycles are as principles applicable to Aqua in order to gain access into the very dephts of his soul. This will allow us to methodically understand the true nature behind his lately menacing character plot. I swear it's the first time you hear these takes.
In the long run this essay will also substantiate my analysis of Ruby, because if this is applicable to Aqua too then it's fair to say that we uncovered a symmetrical primary structure the Author intended to construct for these twins. (Mirror) Symmetrrial relations are indeed indicated between them on a lot of levels, some essays on this sub discuss that exhaustively.
*
So, we established Sarina's traumatic identity to be a predispositional factor for Ruby, vice versa we now have to establish the same for Aqua. It'd be misleading to ignore Gorou's core identity if we want to grasp Aqua's actions - or perhaps even his acting? Aqua too is stuck in a repetitive cycle triggered from his past life's supressed trauma. We will in this essay explore the depths of it like never done before. Eventually we gain a completely different understanding of revenge that actually haunts him more than it does Kamiki.
You kow, the other day I read an essay where the OP would refuse to call Aqua Aqua anymore and instead refers to him now as "Aquamarine" because he/she is apparently mad at his current behaviour. This to me is kinda funny but also instructive because it goes to show a fundamental misunderstanding of his character, which I believe is shared by many people. Be mad at Gorou Amamiya - if you dare - because this would actually be engaging.
However, we will see that he is like Ruby stuck in another repetitive cycle of trauma and the purpose of this essay is to raise awareness while not to excuse him blatantly but to point to the tragic and dramatic nature of his mind and soul. Because at this point it's safe to say that what we currently see is literally what we get. Aqua will not become visibly handsome any time soon. Better aknowledge and comprehend his actions now and save yourself later from phony bitterness, anger and other unreflected undermining reactions. Instead that be bitter and angry with compassion. Because if you don't appreciate his struggle you won't fully grasp the Cathasis that follows, which - under the impression that Aka is cooking some really good stuff - would be a shame. Finally I'm strongly hoping that this essay might enhance some people's future chapter reading experience.
Without further edo lets dive into it.
Gorou Amamiya
Gorou's core determining trauma is not that easy to grasp on and that's mainly because his cope is vague while his upfront personality apppears mature and he as an individual is also highly functional, both as Gorou and Aqua. He appears to us as a well adjusted middle aged man: He went to the Medical University in Tokyo, dated women sucessfully and eventually became a Doctor and kinda just knows how to handle stuff. He is also a walking encyclopaedia, so feel free to ask him anything!
On the contrary site: Gorou seems to be a loner, an Otaku in denial who lives quite isolated in Japan's rural backwaters. After his study years in Tokyo he moved back to his hometown. We don't know the exact reason why he voluntarily choose this kind of isolation, probably to take care of his grandmother. When he came back to the hospitel as Aqua he referred to his coworkers as "colleagues I was close to" which implies a certain distance and a lack of other related people in the town like for instance actual friends that he would want to meet. After he learned that nobody of his past colleugues work there anymore the "social question" of his past life fizzled out.
The rural working place granted him a lot of free time at the hospital, So he met his emotionally undemanding social life with escapism into Idol-Culture respectively Ai Hoshino. And surely this "quirk" is the first indication that this man doesn't just maintain an introverted but healthy Work-Life-Balance as a doctor but actually tries to cure away some void: A normal man just doesn't scream joyful in a patient's room like a fanatic over an Idol show. This beginning scene doesn't just serves as a quirky comic relief but sets a fundamental tone to his character. A little later the coworking woman in EP 1 wouldn't quite believe his copium about a shared memory with Sarina as the reason for his idolization of Ai. And since he didn't gave her a clear answer if he would or wouldn't date Ai he at the same time disclosed a personal obsession as to be part of his allegedly idealistic and pure motives. We will get back to their conversation later, as we will find out that Gorou was actually honest and righteouss about his claims.
I know, I know. Still haven't mentioned the elephant in the room:
His dead mother.
What is Guilt?
When for Ruby the reoccuring event of her traumatic cycle is parental abandonment then for Gorou it is the feeling of guilt "for being born at the expense of his mother" (C75). In other words to feel responsible for her death.
Gorou lost his mother during his birth but he eventually got adopted by his Grandmother who took the role as his mother figure. The fact that he was actually raised by family laid the foundation for a some what functional personality. In fact he for his personal development received maternal love from his grandmother, thus the trauma which he recycled over Ai's death is fundamentally different from Ruby's.
But at the same time... it isn't different at all. Here is the why:
What is Love?
We found out in the essay about Gorou as Ruby's father-figure that she'd eventually develope a romantic love interest for her father-figure due to the stagnation of her psychological development as part of her inherited "curse" through reincarnation with her trauma. While Ruby's body would mature and develope, likewise Ichigo as a father-surrogat is not present in her life, Sarina's soul would still be bounded to a confused relationship she development during her hospitalization. Sarina's love for Gorou was a childish inmature expression in a phase where the father is the only male person of interest in a young girl's life. But the anxiety to lose a dear father like figure again after she was abandoned by her biological father would also urge her to express a childish romantic interest for her Doctor. If he marries her he can never leave her again. A differentiation and overcoming of this developmental phase didn't happen for Ruby because the memory of Gorou would force herself in a obsessive spiral until she confused herself to desire actual romantic love from him, her father-figure. The playful jokes about marriage when Sarina becomes 16 have turned to a personal life goal of Ruby. When she found out about his death it triggered the trauma of parental abondenment and unleashed all her self-destructive feelings. A death wish that already was present during her life as Sarina and after Ai's death but had been intercepted by Miyako as a new mother and also through the hope and longing for Gorou's acceptance of her - both as Sarina and Ruby, but moreso in Ruby because this confused desire found a fleshed out embodiment in a sexually developed girl's body.
Well and Gorous obsession over the Idol Ai isn't that far off from this. Because what Gorou actually seeks from Ai is unconditional love. The kind of love that isn't just receivable by a surrogate mother but the very personal love that only a biological mother can give to her child in the very early infant stage. In Ai's eyes he would feel a kind of dangerous tease of this deeply hidden desire and while he never actually understood the reason of this longing or even that it's related to a surpressed trauma over his dead mother, he do felt mystically pulled into Ai's realm and felt a glimpse of hope for unconditional "Ai" (Ai when written in Kanji means Love) through her idolization.
But keep in mind that he is a full grown man. He already experienced a mostly sufficient mother figure in his life - the Grandmother. Of course he would never realize what the cause for his troublesome obsession over this teenage girl Ai Hoshino really is about. He eventually developes just as Ruby for Gorou a confusing sexual interest for the "unconditionally loving mother" that he projects onto Ai. Likewise Ruby developed a sexual interest for her idolized father figure Gorou.
Interestlingly enough the chat with his coworker on the roof about Ai fully displayed his confusion. In this scene she was a bit like a therapist, while he would reveal his trauma to her. The irony of course is that neither he nor her realize it: On the one hand he indeed seeks pure and idealistic form of "Ai", unconditional love of a mother for her childt. At the same time it's distorted by his sexual maturity which would try to find fullfillment through romantic and sexual "ressources".
The romantic fantasy is an impuls of the conflicted adult body that carries an infant's hidden wish. An unfulfilled infant lives deep inside of Gorous heart as a surpressed trauma over his mother's death who couldn't give him the most exclusive form of maternal love.
*
The Selfish Love
We found the inverted similarity between Ruby's attachment to Gorou and Aqua's attachment to Ai. But it's worth to point out that in relation to Ai - and what I mean by that the quality of the relation Aqua -> Ai vs. Ruby -> Ai - there is a crucial difference in the form of love they want from her and it is mainly rooted in the different developmental phases they both are "stuck" in terms of the form of desired maternity.
Ruby's longing for a mother is transferable. Since she probably received the kind of unconditional love of an infant herself but was only abandoned at a later age when she became sick, Sarina could compensate it with Ai's love and even Miyako's after Ai's death. Ruby was kinda temporarly stabilized since she believed in meeting her idolized father again. It's not like Ai's death hasn't affected her but she is in her longing for maternal love actually more mature than Gorou. I will explain later how. Ai is for Ruby from this point of view "interchangable" just like Marina. But it is a yet to observe in the coming chapters how and when Sarina will "release herself and her mother from the expectation that a mother should love her child" (C119) but to me it seems like Sarina has a solid foundation to overcome this issue through her movie role of Ai.
But what about the kind of love Gorou craves for? Well for once we know that he doesn't seek something transferable because in fact a transfer that could cover the kind of maternal Love Ruby seeks he already received from his Grandmother. He wants the pure, innocent and idealistic love of a mother for his infant, for him it can only be re-created and satisfied in the impossible yet odd realm of supernaturality, A reincarnation as an actual infant with intact memories of his past life in the hands of an actual loving mother. This is the only but also the absolute solution to meet the innocent and pure minded wish of the traumatized infant crying in Gorous heart.
A normal well adjusted adult would perceive this situation as a nightmare. Being a baby stands in the heaviest contrast to the inherited soul of an adult. "I am a f'cking grown man, goddamit. Why am I a baby? I'm right now the most vulnerable, dependend and defenseless being, this situation absolutely opposes my proven and experienced self identity as a grown up" This is what a normal adult would think and he would hate this unintelligible situation he found himself randomly in. It's basically a curse. Also he would want to go back to his family, friends etc. Gorou on the other hand is a loner and suffers a tragic supressed trauma. So now we beginn to see how all the hings come together. Such a joyful and innocent scene as presented in the Manga has a dark meaning behind it.
To embrace the role of a cute liltte baby with the same joy and happiness it implies an actual desire to do so. To assert that this is yet another casual comic relief scene just to start his interesting journey as a MC misses the point. The plot started when he fanatically cheered up his Idol over the TV of a patients room.
Likewise here and there his personal desire in Ai and "Ai" would blend out the surounding world. Aqua ignores the premise of his reincarnation that he was murdered by Ai's stalker, because he wants to stimulate his deeply supressed desire. Gorou ignores the patient's needed rest when Ai is on TV, because he wants to stimulate the same desire. In relation to Ai Gorou is selfish right from the start. It's a very inmature selfish love towards her as an Idol and a mother, in fact this form of love is the most inmature and selfish love imaginable because it's born from the tragically denied desire of the most vulnerable and inmature human form: The Infant. In fact, that he as a doctor couldn't supresse his selfish will to disturb a resting patient was a pivotal moment to prelude the great lengths this desire would go to experience stimulation. His behaviour as Ai's baby is a derivation and the purest and most innocent enbodiment. Because this time it's materialized in the body of an actual infant. Gorou has become the human flesh of the traumatically supressed infant's desire living in his heart.
Gorou at this point is absolutely unwilling to give up the situation he found himself in. The infant has completely taken over the adult's mind. At one point he would even thank the culprit and ompletely misjudge the actual situation they are in. This - for such a reasonable and smart but apparently selfless man like Gorou - is astonishing to say the least. In relation of it's meaning in terms of trauma and hidden desire it's comprehensible.
The infant's longing is the most fragile form of love imaginable. If it misses it's chance it's all over again. It only came into life through an absolutely impossible miracle. This selfish little desire, for a long time well hidden as a surpressed trauma, feed by escapism in Idol-Culture, will do anything to blockade interferring reason. The reasonable adult Gorou is completely cut off.
The adult Gorou who's identity as an dedicated professional who is willing to go to great lengths to support his patients while rolling back his personal gain. The adult Gorou that for once let his selfish wish take advantage. This adult Gorou will end with the corpse of his mother in his hands.
The Reenactment of a Tragedy
"Unconditional love" - it should be pure and innocent yet it becomes the very reason for his self-destroying malicous decades long torture and agony.
With the death of Ai Aqua for the first time conscioussly witnesses what until then was just a deeply hidden ugly non-verbalized traumatic experience. Before Ai's death Gorou never realized the existence of it, let alone the depths of it nor how it affects his personality structure.
But now while he is the accomplice witness of an unfolding nightmare - with the heart of an infant and the brain of an adult - the surpressed trauma actually has a real reenactment...
This is probably the most impactful moment of self-realization in the Manga in terms of Gorou's psyche. Yes, Gorou's. These words reflect the core traumatic experience of Gorou's birth that was reenacted by Ai's death. This is not about Aqua and his roleplay as the Son of Ai Hoshino and it's certainly not the trauma of a fan who lost his favorite Idol.
These are the words of a newborn that could never forget the rusted metal-like smell of his mother's blood penetrating his nostrils. Nor could he forget how the warmth slowly left her hand. Can you imagine what he's actually describing her? How his mother was slowly bleeding out and dies while she was holding her newborn in her arms?
Postpartum bleeding or postpartum hemorrhage is often defined as the loss of more than 500 ml or 1,000 ml of blood following childbirth.
They were alone, Gorou was exposed to his dying mother until her last gasp. This shocking tragic accident describes the first moments of his early life as a horrifying Dispair.
And we can immediately see, that Ai's death scene was personally ment for Gorou. It's not a coincidence that Ruby would by shielded behind the milky glassed door while Aqua would be exposed to the fullest with all his senses. It's because the repetitive cycle of his personal trauma was ment to unfold exclusively to him. In the closed door that shields Ruby also symbolizes the earlier expressed maturity of Ruby's seek for maternal love. This little physical gap and the muffled visual and audible senses are a quintessential symbolization of the difference in the form of love Ruby and Aqua seek and quintessential to the importance of the circumstances of her death to each of them.
Likewise Ruby's discovery of Gorou's corpse as a triggering event of her personal trauma through the guidance of the crow was exclusively ment for her to experience. Aqua was "excluded" in the sense that he wouldn't recognize how important that corpse is to Ruby because then it would be immanent that they know each other, which at that point is not in the god's interest.
*
Now you might ask yourself: Okay, but why wasn't his desire fullfilled after some time, for example after he passed by the biological infant state? Why would he crave for this kind of love for years until her death? After some time he should have come to his senses and tell her about the danger, right? And why would he still follow her idol performances as a dedicated fan when we established that the idolization was only a surrogat expression of Gorou Amamiyas surpressed desire?
The Reenactment of True Love
Gorou and Ai share a common goal. Ai wants to unconditionally love somebody and Gorou wants unconditionally to be loved. The reincarnation of Gorou as Ai's son sets the framework for a realization of both wishes.
The unconditonality of Ai's devotion that Gorou seeks from her as a mother isn't fullfilled. He early on realized through the performances he would witness as Aqua on TV that she looks at the camera and her fans with the same eyes and smile as she does at her kids. The purely physical devotion of a mother that takes care of her children like bathing them appears to him as an mechanized act, her mere obligation as a legal guardian. it's like "shaking hands" with a Fan after the idol concert. "Lies are an exceptional form of Love" she said to Gorou on the roof top (btw why is everyone opening up on that roof top, is it really like a therapist session whenever somebody enters it :)) thus he suspect she's acting towards her children the same way like towards her fans. Sure, a normal child wouldn't be that suspicious but Aqua is still a grown man and fully grasps the artificiality of his role as particular Ai's son. Eventually after all those years Aqua would still crave for an actual true expression of unconditional love that is exclusive to him. And Ai still was trying to love somebody but was yet too scared to express it to her children.
Now we can see why he would persist on his role as her son and supersede the danger of the culprit who killed him. For years he would ignore it because for years he was still crave for his desired love.
Just the fact of being supernaturally pushed to be her son wasn't fullfilling the desire of the infant at all, since deception and a lie is the core of this relationship. He would naturally jump back to old habits and absorb more love from the Idol Ai Hoshino over TV. But when Miyako took the twins to her concert and their cute dance triggered Ai's most sincere maternal smile it was actually a great moment of hope for Aqua.
This whole thing with the smile was pretty instructive. Because as you recall Ai was during ego-surfing reading the opinion of a fan who said her smile and expression wouldn't be convincing at all. Well I can't prove that this anonymous poster was Aqua himself but for the point I want to make lets just assume that it exactly articulates the impression Aqua shares with the poster. They both think that she lacks convincing emotionality "on stage" - a mysterious expression because for Aqua who is roleplaying this mother-son-relation it's also as observing her "on stage" at home. And his expectation as a child towards a mother is as obsessive as the expectation of a fan towards his favorite idol.
Unfortunately he gets "betrayed" (or maybe not, I will elabore later) because a little after Ai found this new and wonderful smile she would mechanize the same expression on stage for her fans, thus it lost the unconditional intimate character which should be exclusive between a mother and her child. Ai is the best and most ruthless liar of all time.
At the same time - lets entertain that he in fact was the anonymous poster - Aqua still has a lot of selflessness at his core personality, especially as he grows up, more of the upfront "Gorou" comes out again. It's not odd to assume that he really wanted to help Ai in her development as an famous Idol. I actually like this idea a lot and it's coherent with the type of Guy Gorou/Aqua outside of his very personal desire is: A carrying fine guy who genuinely wants the best for the people he feels close to.
Chronologically it also makes sense. She was holding Aqua on her lap and was complaining about the little money she makes. She was frustated and felt stuck. She said she wants to provide for her family. Then she went to her dance lessons and there she would sit down with her phone and read that message about her smile. Aqua could have predicted that she would ego-surf and therefore posted that tweet. Later on the concert Aqua and Ruby would reveal the "star power" that can influence others. A mirroring "star power" influence Aqua would perform on Kana's first idol concert when she exactly like Ai had trouble to express the sincere smile and joy.
On top of that the apparent "push" of Aqua has a certain providing husband-like character to it. Ai says she wants to provide for the family. In the end it's Aqua's interferrence that supported her wish. In this moment he acted the identity of Gorou the doctor when he was looking out for her best interests as a pregnant woman, a bit like a loving and carrying husband.
In a a future contrasting juxtaposition fine moments like this will help Aqua to realize that the amount of guilt he feels for her death is exaggerated and unfair since he genuinly was also looking after her even as her child. And of course we all remember his influence on Gotanda after she was cut out of his movie.
*
Gorou's core determining trauma is not that easy to grasp and that's because it's coded as emotional raw data into his subconsciousness. There is another very important trauma at the core which prevents him from realizing the importance of that love that was finally granted to him in Ai's last moments. He didn't realize that this was an sincere reenactment of true love his dying mother gave him after his birth. This frame in the anime gives it basically away: Her hair like the hair after an extremely painful deadly birth. She is all sweaty, exhausted and anemic but also the truely happiest woman she ever was. It's like saying: There is no point of feeling guilty, I'm so glad I gave birth to you, my son. I love you...
https://preview.redd.it/6veu0yctbs2b1.jpg?width=1280&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0883f041277110fc0fadca5c8290e63c2ea72e4f
And is there even any base for guilt at all? The chapter "What is Guilt" in this essay turned out to be the shortest one. It's maybe also the grand tragicirony of Aka's story. "Guilt" and revenge for it's sake occupy Aqua's entire purpose in life, yet it has the most fragile irrational foundation, born from trauma and self-misunderstanding. One final thought: It's also not forgiveness. The kind of love that Gorous mother expressed for him after her birth wasn't forgiveness as it implies guilt. No, she is simply happy and unconditonally loved her son. He is not guilty.
* * * *
The next chapter in PART II will be called "The Reeactment of Violence" and in this we will find hidden links between Gorou's trauma with a father-figures in his life, the missing father who impregnated his mother but wouldn't provide for him, how this is reflected on Kamiki but also expressed in Aqua's husband-like behaviour towards Ai, but also his poisoned relationship to his Grandfather and how all of this comes together on the scenery of Ai's murder. And much more....
submitted by Mission-Raccoon9432 to OshiNoKo [link] [comments]
Actually my head hurts and my back hurts too. Maybe even my heart. I wrote this essay for 2 days straight. It is of better quality than my previous pieces, both in content and style. It's also the longest so I felt an obligation to deliver it as interesting as possible. Extensive essays are pretty tendious, I'm aware but I think I created an insightful and stimulating analysis for a character that doesn't get the attention he deserves. This is not just a hollow phrase, as I claim this essay uncovers unheard of depths of Gorou Amamiya respectively Aqua Hoshino.
Preamble
In the past we discussed Ruby's genius during her Audition with Frill and Akane. To sum it up: She's acting her whole life as the innocent and pure idol girl Ruby Hoshino but what fuels the encryption of her true self is her traumatized core identity as Sarina which she hides through acting.
Since this identity was passed down to her new life, her trauma was likewise passed down as well and as a result it predispositions her new life's psyche. After the loss of Ai and Gorou she yet again finds herself trapped in a repetitive cycle of her previous trauma of parental abandonment. That's why in her deep reflection during the audition she would overlap Sarina's and Ruby's psychograms seamlessly. It's the same all over again.
We discussed yesterday Gorou as Ruby's father figure while evidently Ai had a function as a mother figure to her (to Sarina actually) - or to be more precise the loss of both as surrogate parential figures associated as dear to her heart people triggered Sarina's trauma of an abandoned child through Ruby again. This in short is the nature of her repetitive traumatic cycle. Sarina-Ruby is acting a smile in both lifes while nobody seems to notice the ugly feelings deep inside her. Even when she had a reverse act coming out at the audition, Frill and Akane wouldn't conceive that these feelings weren't part of her auditional act but actually the naked truth.
However the point of this essay is not to talk about Ruby - although she will certainly be useful - but this time to explore to which extent the predisposition from the past life and the traumatic repetitive cycles are as principles applicable to Aqua in order to gain access into the very dephts of his soul. This will allow us to methodically understand the true nature behind his lately menacing character plot. I swear it's the first time you hear these takes.
In the long run this essay will also substantiate my analysis of Ruby, because if this is applicable to Aqua too then it's fair to say that we uncovered a symmetrical primary structure the Author intended to construct for these twins. (Mirror) Symmetrrial relations are indeed indicated between them on a lot of levels, some essays on this sub discuss that exhaustively.
*
So, we established Sarina's traumatic identity to be a predispositional factor for Ruby, vice versa we now have to establish the same for Aqua. It'd be misleading to ignore Gorou's core identity if we want to grasp Aqua's actions - or perhaps even his acting? Aqua too is stuck in a repetitive cycle triggered from his past life's supressed trauma. We will in this essay explore the depths of it like never done before. Eventually we gain a completely different understanding of revenge that actually haunts him more than it does Kamiki.
You kow, the other day I read an essay where the OP would refuse to call Aqua Aqua anymore and instead refers to him now as "Aquamarine" because he/she is apparently mad at his current behaviour. This to me is kinda funny but also instructive because it goes to show a fundamental misunderstanding of his character, which I believe is shared by many people. Be mad at Gorou Amamiya - if you dare - because this would actually be engaging.
However, we will see that he is like Ruby stuck in another repetitive cycle of trauma and the purpose of this essay is to raise awareness while not to excuse him blatantly but to point to the tragic and dramatic nature of his mind and soul. Because at this point it's safe to say that what we currently see is literally what we get. Aqua will not become visibly handsome any time soon. Better aknowledge and comprehend his actions now and save yourself later from phony bitterness, anger and other unreflected undermining reactions. Instead that be bitter and angry with compassion. Because if you don't appreciate his struggle you won't fully grasp the Cathasis that follows, which - under the impression that Aka is cooking some really good stuff - would be a shame. Finally I'm strongly hoping that this essay might enhance some people's future chapter reading experience.
Without further edo lets dive into it.
Gorou Amamiya
Gorou's core determining trauma is not that easy to grasp on and that's mainly because his cope is vague while his upfront personality apppears mature and he as an individual is also highly functional, both as Gorou and Aqua. He appears to us as a well adjusted middle aged man: He went to the Medical University in Tokyo, dated women sucessfully and eventually became a Doctor and kinda just knows how to handle stuff. He is also a walking encyclopaedia, so feel free to ask him anything!
On the contrary site: Gorou seems to be a loner, an Otaku in denial who lives quite isolated in Japan's rural backwaters. After his study years in Tokyo he moved back to his hometown. We don't know the exact reason why he voluntarily choose this kind of isolation, probably to take care of his grandmother. When he came back to the hospitel as Aqua he referred to his coworkers as "colleagues I was close to" which implies a certain distance and a lack of other related people in the town like for instance actual friends that he would want to meet. After he learned that nobody of his past colleugues work there anymore the "social question" of his past life fizzled out.
The rural working place granted him a lot of free time at the hospital, So he met his emotionally undemanding social life with escapism into Idol-Culture respectively Ai Hoshino. And surely this "quirk" is the first indication that this man doesn't just maintain an introverted but healthy Work-Life-Balance as a doctor but actually tries to cure away some void: A normal man just doesn't scream joyful in a patient's room like a fanatic over an Idol show. This beginning scene doesn't just serves as a quirky comic relief but sets a fundamental tone to his character. A little later the coworking woman in EP 1 wouldn't quite believe his copium about a shared memory with Sarina as the reason for his idolization of Ai. And since he didn't gave her a clear answer if he would or wouldn't date Ai he at the same time disclosed a personal obsession as to be part of his allegedly idealistic and pure motives. We will get back to their conversation later, as we will find out that Gorou was actually honest and righteouss about his claims.
I know, I know. Still haven't mentioned the elephant in the room:
His dead mother.
What is Guilt?
When for Ruby the reoccuring event of her traumatic cycle is parental abandonment then for Gorou it is the feeling of guilt "for being born at the expense of his mother" (C75). In other words to feel responsible for her death.
Gorou lost his mother during his birth but he eventually got adopted by his Grandmother who took the role as his mother figure. The fact that he was actually raised by family laid the foundation for a some what functional personality. In fact he for his personal development received maternal love from his grandmother, thus the trauma which he recycled over Ai's death is fundamentally different from Ruby's.
But at the same time... it isn't different at all. Here is the why:
What is Love?
We found out in the essay about Gorou as Ruby's father-figure that she'd eventually develope a romantic love interest for her father-figure due to the stagnation of her psychological development as part of her inherited "curse" through reincarnation with her trauma. While Ruby's body would mature and develope, likewise Ichigo as a father-surrogat is not present in her life, Sarina's soul would still be bounded to a confused relationship she development during her hospitalization. Sarina's love for Gorou was a childish inmature expression in a phase where the father is the only male person of interest in a young girl's life. But the anxiety to lose a dear father like figure again after she was abandoned by her biological father would also urge her to express a childish romantic interest for her Doctor. If he marries her he can never leave her again. A differentiation and overcoming of this developmental phase didn't happen for Ruby because the memory of Gorou would force herself in a obsessive spiral until she confused herself to desire actual romantic love from him, her father-figure. The playful jokes about marriage when Sarina becomes 16 have turned to a personal life goal of Ruby. When she found out about his death it triggered the trauma of parental abondenment and unleashed all her self-destructive feelings. A death wish that already was present during her life as Sarina and after Ai's death but had been intercepted by Miyako as a new mother and also through the hope and longing for Gorou's acceptance of her - both as Sarina and Ruby, but moreso in Ruby because this confused desire found a fleshed out embodiment in a sexually developed girl's body.
Well and Gorous obsession over the Idol Ai isn't that far off from this. Because what Gorou actually seeks from Ai is unconditional love. The kind of love that isn't just receivable by a surrogate mother but the very personal love that only a biological mother can give to her child in the very early infant stage. In Ai's eyes he would feel a kind of dangerous tease of this deeply hidden desire and while he never actually understood the reason of this longing or even that it's related to a surpressed trauma over his dead mother, he do felt mystically pulled into Ai's realm and felt a glimpse of hope for unconditional "Ai" (Ai when written in Kanji means Love) through her idolization.
But keep in mind that he is a full grown man. He already experienced a mostly sufficient mother figure in his life - the Grandmother. Of course he would never realize what the cause for his troublesome obsession over this teenage girl Ai Hoshino really is about. He eventually developes just as Ruby for Gorou a confusing sexual interest for the "unconditionally loving mother" that he projects onto Ai. Likewise Ruby developed a sexual interest for her idolized father figure Gorou.
Interestlingly enough the chat with his coworker on the roof about Ai fully displayed his confusion. In this scene she was a bit like a therapist, while he would reveal his trauma to her. The irony of course is that neither he nor her realize it: On the one hand he indeed seeks pure and idealistic form of "Ai", unconditional love of a mother for her childt. At the same time it's distorted by his sexual maturity which would try to find fullfillment through romantic and sexual "ressources".
The romantic fantasy is an impuls of the conflicted adult body that carries an infant's hidden wish. An unfulfilled infant lives deep inside of Gorous heart as a surpressed trauma over his mother's death who couldn't give him the most exclusive form of maternal love.
*
The Selfish Love
We found the inverted similarity between Ruby's attachment to Gorou and Aqua's attachment to Ai. But it's worth to point out that in relation to Ai - and what I mean by that the quality of the relation Aqua -> Ai vs. Ruby -> Ai - there is a crucial difference in the form of love they want from her and it is mainly rooted in the different developmental phases they both are "stuck" in terms of the form of desired maternity.
Ruby's longing for a mother is transferable. Since she probably received the kind of unconditional love of an infant herself but was only abandoned at a later age when she became sick, Sarina could compensate it with Ai's love and even Miyako's after Ai's death. Ruby was kinda temporarly stabilized since she believed in meeting her idolized father again. It's not like Ai's death hasn't affected her but she is in her longing for maternal love actually more mature than Gorou. I will explain later how. Ai is for Ruby from this point of view "interchangable" just like Marina. But it is a yet to observe in the coming chapters how and when Sarina will "release herself and her mother from the expectation that a mother should love her child" (C119) but to me it seems like Sarina has a solid foundation to overcome this issue through her movie role of Ai.
But what about the kind of love Gorou craves for? Well for once we know that he doesn't seek something transferable because in fact a transfer that could cover the kind of maternal Love Ruby seeks he already received from his Grandmother. He wants the pure, innocent and idealistic love of a mother for his infant, for him it can only be re-created and satisfied in the impossible yet odd realm of supernaturality, A reincarnation as an actual infant with intact memories of his past life in the hands of an actual loving mother. This is the only but also the absolute solution to meet the innocent and pure minded wish of the traumatized infant crying in Gorous heart.
"When I woke up, I was in heaven [....] for now, I just want to live this baby life to it's fullest"(Chapter 1)
A normal well adjusted adult would perceive this situation as a nightmare. Being a baby stands in the heaviest contrast to the inherited soul of an adult. "I am a f'cking grown man, goddamit. Why am I a baby? I'm right now the most vulnerable, dependend and defenseless being, this situation absolutely opposes my proven and experienced self identity as a grown up" This is what a normal adult would think and he would hate this unintelligible situation he found himself randomly in. It's basically a curse. Also he would want to go back to his family, friends etc. Gorou on the other hand is a loner and suffers a tragic supressed trauma. So now we beginn to see how all the hings come together. Such a joyful and innocent scene as presented in the Manga has a dark meaning behind it.
To embrace the role of a cute liltte baby with the same joy and happiness it implies an actual desire to do so. To assert that this is yet another casual comic relief scene just to start his interesting journey as a MC misses the point. The plot started when he fanatically cheered up his Idol over the TV of a patients room.
Likewise here and there his personal desire in Ai and "Ai" would blend out the surounding world. Aqua ignores the premise of his reincarnation that he was murdered by Ai's stalker, because he wants to stimulate his deeply supressed desire. Gorou ignores the patient's needed rest when Ai is on TV, because he wants to stimulate the same desire. In relation to Ai Gorou is selfish right from the start. It's a very inmature selfish love towards her as an Idol and a mother, in fact this form of love is the most inmature and selfish love imaginable because it's born from the tragically denied desire of the most vulnerable and inmature human form: The Infant. In fact, that he as a doctor couldn't supresse his selfish will to disturb a resting patient was a pivotal moment to prelude the great lengths this desire would go to experience stimulation. His behaviour as Ai's baby is a derivation and the purest and most innocent enbodiment. Because this time it's materialized in the body of an actual infant. Gorou has become the human flesh of the traumatically supressed infant's desire living in his heart.
Gorou at this point is absolutely unwilling to give up the situation he found himself in. The infant has completely taken over the adult's mind. At one point he would even thank the culprit and ompletely misjudge the actual situation they are in. This - for such a reasonable and smart but apparently selfless man like Gorou - is astonishing to say the least. In relation of it's meaning in terms of trauma and hidden desire it's comprehensible.
The infant's longing is the most fragile form of love imaginable. If it misses it's chance it's all over again. It only came into life through an absolutely impossible miracle. This selfish little desire, for a long time well hidden as a surpressed trauma, feed by escapism in Idol-Culture, will do anything to blockade interferring reason. The reasonable adult Gorou is completely cut off.
The adult Gorou who's identity as an dedicated professional who is willing to go to great lengths to support his patients while rolling back his personal gain. The adult Gorou that for once let his selfish wish take advantage. This adult Gorou will end with the corpse of his mother in his hands.
The Reenactment of a Tragedy
"Unconditional love" - it should be pure and innocent yet it becomes the very reason for his self-destroying malicous decades long torture and agony.
With the death of Ai Aqua for the first time conscioussly witnesses what until then was just a deeply hidden ugly non-verbalized traumatic experience. Before Ai's death Gorou never realized the existence of it, let alone the depths of it nor how it affects his personality structure.
But now while he is the accomplice witness of an unfolding nightmare - with the heart of an infant and the brain of an adult - the surpressed trauma actually has a real reenactment...
"I could never forget... The rusted metal-like smell of her blood penetrating my nostrils. Nor could I forget how the warmth slowly left her hand" (C51)https://preview.redd.it/3hv2m50vxr2b1.jpg?width=1481&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7842bc1ac0945aab5149c505fd719c6139ca4370
This is probably the most impactful moment of self-realization in the Manga in terms of Gorou's psyche. Yes, Gorou's. These words reflect the core traumatic experience of Gorou's birth that was reenacted by Ai's death. This is not about Aqua and his roleplay as the Son of Ai Hoshino and it's certainly not the trauma of a fan who lost his favorite Idol.
These are the words of a newborn that could never forget the rusted metal-like smell of his mother's blood penetrating his nostrils. Nor could he forget how the warmth slowly left her hand. Can you imagine what he's actually describing her? How his mother was slowly bleeding out and dies while she was holding her newborn in her arms?
Postpartum bleeding or postpartum hemorrhage is often defined as the loss of more than 500 ml or 1,000 ml of blood following childbirth.
They were alone, Gorou was exposed to his dying mother until her last gasp. This shocking tragic accident describes the first moments of his early life as a horrifying Dispair.
And we can immediately see, that Ai's death scene was personally ment for Gorou. It's not a coincidence that Ruby would by shielded behind the milky glassed door while Aqua would be exposed to the fullest with all his senses. It's because the repetitive cycle of his personal trauma was ment to unfold exclusively to him. In the closed door that shields Ruby also symbolizes the earlier expressed maturity of Ruby's seek for maternal love. This little physical gap and the muffled visual and audible senses are a quintessential symbolization of the difference in the form of love Ruby and Aqua seek and quintessential to the importance of the circumstances of her death to each of them.
Likewise Ruby's discovery of Gorou's corpse as a triggering event of her personal trauma through the guidance of the crow was exclusively ment for her to experience. Aqua was "excluded" in the sense that he wouldn't recognize how important that corpse is to Ruby because then it would be immanent that they know each other, which at that point is not in the god's interest.
*
Now you might ask yourself: Okay, but why wasn't his desire fullfilled after some time, for example after he passed by the biological infant state? Why would he crave for this kind of love for years until her death? After some time he should have come to his senses and tell her about the danger, right? And why would he still follow her idol performances as a dedicated fan when we established that the idolization was only a surrogat expression of Gorou Amamiyas surpressed desire?
The Reenactment of True Love
Gorou and Ai share a common goal. Ai wants to unconditionally love somebody and Gorou wants unconditionally to be loved. The reincarnation of Gorou as Ai's son sets the framework for a realization of both wishes.
The unconditonality of Ai's devotion that Gorou seeks from her as a mother isn't fullfilled. He early on realized through the performances he would witness as Aqua on TV that she looks at the camera and her fans with the same eyes and smile as she does at her kids. The purely physical devotion of a mother that takes care of her children like bathing them appears to him as an mechanized act, her mere obligation as a legal guardian. it's like "shaking hands" with a Fan after the idol concert. "Lies are an exceptional form of Love" she said to Gorou on the roof top (btw why is everyone opening up on that roof top, is it really like a therapist session whenever somebody enters it :)) thus he suspect she's acting towards her children the same way like towards her fans. Sure, a normal child wouldn't be that suspicious but Aqua is still a grown man and fully grasps the artificiality of his role as particular Ai's son. Eventually after all those years Aqua would still crave for an actual true expression of unconditional love that is exclusive to him. And Ai still was trying to love somebody but was yet too scared to express it to her children.
Now we can see why he would persist on his role as her son and supersede the danger of the culprit who killed him. For years he would ignore it because for years he was still crave for his desired love.
Just the fact of being supernaturally pushed to be her son wasn't fullfilling the desire of the infant at all, since deception and a lie is the core of this relationship. He would naturally jump back to old habits and absorb more love from the Idol Ai Hoshino over TV. But when Miyako took the twins to her concert and their cute dance triggered Ai's most sincere maternal smile it was actually a great moment of hope for Aqua.
This whole thing with the smile was pretty instructive. Because as you recall Ai was during ego-surfing reading the opinion of a fan who said her smile and expression wouldn't be convincing at all. Well I can't prove that this anonymous poster was Aqua himself but for the point I want to make lets just assume that it exactly articulates the impression Aqua shares with the poster. They both think that she lacks convincing emotionality "on stage" - a mysterious expression because for Aqua who is roleplaying this mother-son-relation it's also as observing her "on stage" at home. And his expectation as a child towards a mother is as obsessive as the expectation of a fan towards his favorite idol.
Unfortunately he gets "betrayed" (or maybe not, I will elabore later) because a little after Ai found this new and wonderful smile she would mechanize the same expression on stage for her fans, thus it lost the unconditional intimate character which should be exclusive between a mother and her child. Ai is the best and most ruthless liar of all time.
At the same time - lets entertain that he in fact was the anonymous poster - Aqua still has a lot of selflessness at his core personality, especially as he grows up, more of the upfront "Gorou" comes out again. It's not odd to assume that he really wanted to help Ai in her development as an famous Idol. I actually like this idea a lot and it's coherent with the type of Guy Gorou/Aqua outside of his very personal desire is: A carrying fine guy who genuinely wants the best for the people he feels close to.
Chronologically it also makes sense. She was holding Aqua on her lap and was complaining about the little money she makes. She was frustated and felt stuck. She said she wants to provide for her family. Then she went to her dance lessons and there she would sit down with her phone and read that message about her smile. Aqua could have predicted that she would ego-surf and therefore posted that tweet. Later on the concert Aqua and Ruby would reveal the "star power" that can influence others. A mirroring "star power" influence Aqua would perform on Kana's first idol concert when she exactly like Ai had trouble to express the sincere smile and joy.
On top of that the apparent "push" of Aqua has a certain providing husband-like character to it. Ai says she wants to provide for the family. In the end it's Aqua's interferrence that supported her wish. In this moment he acted the identity of Gorou the doctor when he was looking out for her best interests as a pregnant woman, a bit like a loving and carrying husband.
In a a future contrasting juxtaposition fine moments like this will help Aqua to realize that the amount of guilt he feels for her death is exaggerated and unfair since he genuinly was also looking after her even as her child. And of course we all remember his influence on Gotanda after she was cut out of his movie.
*
Gorou's core determining trauma is not that easy to grasp and that's because it's coded as emotional raw data into his subconsciousness. There is another very important trauma at the core which prevents him from realizing the importance of that love that was finally granted to him in Ai's last moments. He didn't realize that this was an sincere reenactment of true love his dying mother gave him after his birth. This frame in the anime gives it basically away: Her hair like the hair after an extremely painful deadly birth. She is all sweaty, exhausted and anemic but also the truely happiest woman she ever was. It's like saying: There is no point of feeling guilty, I'm so glad I gave birth to you, my son. I love you...
https://preview.redd.it/6veu0yctbs2b1.jpg?width=1280&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0883f041277110fc0fadca5c8290e63c2ea72e4f
And is there even any base for guilt at all? The chapter "What is Guilt" in this essay turned out to be the shortest one. It's maybe also the grand tragicirony of Aka's story. "Guilt" and revenge for it's sake occupy Aqua's entire purpose in life, yet it has the most fragile irrational foundation, born from trauma and self-misunderstanding. One final thought: It's also not forgiveness. The kind of love that Gorous mother expressed for him after her birth wasn't forgiveness as it implies guilt. No, she is simply happy and unconditonally loved her son. He is not guilty.
* * * *
The next chapter in PART II will be called "The Reeactment of Violence" and in this we will find hidden links between Gorou's trauma with a father-figures in his life, the missing father who impregnated his mother but wouldn't provide for him, how this is reflected on Kamiki but also expressed in Aqua's husband-like behaviour towards Ai, but also his poisoned relationship to his Grandfather and how all of this comes together on the scenery of Ai's murder. And much more....
2023.05.29 17:20 Front_Craft_2299 Maybe Blender Gods Could Help?
 | I have a door, everything is selected with L, unfortunately the door requires both those textures for the correct look im going for, instead of going through and selecting every single poly to switch the texture to be able to uv map it where it shows on the left is there a way to select the spots of the object that you highlight in the uv mapping screen? or am i in the very long run? if i didnt explain this well im sorry ive been awake for too long. submitted by Front_Craft_2299 to blender [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/4dbkmbphwt2b1.png?width=1909&format=png&auto=webp&s=53f11de58a2f0bc494fd2db79134e6b550696c78 |
2023.05.29 17:16 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 50.000$+ INVENTORY. M9 Fade, M4 Poseidon, BFK Freehand, Crimson Kimono, Nomad Fade, Skeleton, Kara Lore, Bayo Autotronic, AWP Fade, Kara Damas, BFK Ultra, Kara Freehand, Kara Bright, M9 Damas, Omega, Tiger Strike, Flip MF, Bayo Tiger, Deagle Blaze, Talon & More
Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory
Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.
All Buyouts are listed in cash value.
KNIVES
★ Butterfly Knife Freehand FN #1, B/O: $2500
★ Butterfly Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $822
★ Butterfly Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $616
⎯★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW #1, B/O: $1300
★ Bayonet Autotronic FN, B/O: $1050
★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW, B/O: $629
★ Bayonet Bright Water FT, B/O: $326
★ Bayonet Safari Mesh BS, B/O: $233
⎯★ Karambit Lore FT, B/O: $1110
★ Karambit Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $840
★ Karambit Freehand MW, B/O: $784
★ Karambit Bright Water MW, B/O: $759
⎯★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1801
★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1801
★ M9 Bayonet Damascus Steel FN, B/O: $751
⎯★ Nomad Knife Fade FN, B/O: $1156
★ Nomad Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $544
★ Nomad Knife Blue Steel WW, B/O: $318
⎯★ Flip Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $646
★ Flip Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $574
★ Flip Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) MW, B/O: $552
★ Flip Knife Case Hardened FT, B/O: $257
★ Flip Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $255
★ StatTrak™ Flip Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $287
⎯★ Huntsman Knife Lore FN, B/O: $461
★ Huntsman Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $436
★ Huntsman Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $353
★ Huntsman Knife Autotronic FT, B/O: $212
★ Huntsman Knife Bright Water FT, B/O: $129
★ Huntsman Knife Forest DDPAT MW, B/O: $129
★ Huntsman Knife Forest DDPAT BS, B/O: $123
★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Rust Coat BS, B/O: $127
⎯★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $375
★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $363
★ Bowie Knife Tiger Tooth FN, B/O: $269
★ Bowie Knife Crimson Web WW, B/O: $192
★ Bowie Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $159
★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $126
⎯★ Stiletto Knife Slaughter FN, B/O: $616
★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web FT, B/O: $412
★ StatTrak™ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe FT, B/O: $227
⎯★ Falchion Knife Lore FT, B/O: $214
★ Falchion Knife Autotronic FT, B/O: $192
★ Falchion Knife Scorched WW, B/O: $105
⎯★ Survival Knife Crimson Web BS, B/O: $216
★ Survival Knife Case Hardened FT, B/O: $198
★ Survival Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $111
⎯★ Shadow Daggers Fade FN, B/O: $368
★ Shadow Daggers Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $228
★ Shadow Daggers, B/O: $201
★ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $108
★ Shadow Daggers Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $105
★ Shadow Daggers Black Laminate FT, B/O: $99
★ Shadow Daggers Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $85
⎯★ Gut Knife Doppler (Sapphire) MW #1, B/O: $1700
★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $223
★ Gut Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $203
★ Gut Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $191
★ Gut Knife Case Hardened BS, B/O: $127
⎯★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $199
★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $199
★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $138
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel FN, B/O: $111
⎯★ Classic Knife Urban Masked FT, B/O: $146
★ StatTrak™ Classic Knife Stained BS, B/O: $168
⎯★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $476
★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $375
⎯★ Skeleton Knife, B/O: $1137
★ Talon Knife, B/O: $608
★ Paracord Knife, B/O: $305
★ Survival Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97
GLOVES
★ Moto Gloves Transport MW, B/O: $204
★ Moto Gloves Polygon BS, B/O: $142
★ Moto Gloves Blood Pressure BS, B/O: $84
★ Moto Gloves Blood Pressure BS, B/O: $84
★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $63
★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $63
⎯★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Kimono WW, B/O: $1215
★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike FT, B/O: $672
★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander FT, B/O: $305
★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander BS, B/O: $140
★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web BS, B/O: $137
★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot FT, B/O: $75
⎯★ Driver Gloves Crimson Weave FT, B/O: $359
★ Driver Gloves Imperial Plaid BS, B/O: $229
★ Driver Gloves Overtake BS, B/O: $77
★ Driver Gloves Racing Green FT, B/O: $48
⎯★ Sport Gloves Omega FT, B/O: $739
★ Sport Gloves Amphibious BS #2, B/O: $733
★ Sport Gloves Arid BS, B/O: $292
⎯★ Hand Wraps Giraffe MW, B/O: $212
★ Hand Wraps Leather FT, B/O: $160
★ Hand Wraps Desert Shamagh MW, B/O: $101
⎯★ Broken Fang Gloves Yellow-banded MW, B/O: $185
★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point FT, B/O: $67
★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point WW, B/O: $59
⎯★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened BS, B/O: $65
★ Hydra Gloves Emerald FT, B/O: $65
★ Hydra Gloves Emerald BS, B/O: $62
WEAPONS
AK-47 Case Hardened BS, B/O: $130
AK-47 Bloodsport MW, B/O: $79
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Bloodsport FT, B/O: $70
AK-47 Neon Rider MW, B/O: $60
StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge FT, B/O: $72
⎯AWP Fade FN, B/O: $1039
AWP Asiimov FT, B/O: $139
AWP Asiimov FT, B/O: $139
AWP Wildfire MW, B/O: $95
AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $93
AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $93
AWP Duality FN, B/O: $81
AWP Asiimov BS, B/O: $79
AWP Asiimov BS, B/O: $79
AWP Chromatic Aberration FN, B/O: $60
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $68
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $68
StatTrak™ AWP Electric Hive FT, B/O: $55
⎯Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $623
Desert Eagle Emerald Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $241
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Printstream FT, B/O: $54
⎯M4A1-S Blue Phosphor FN, B/O: $434
StatTrak™ M4A1-S Bright Water MW, B/O: $55
⎯M4A4 Poseidon FN, B/O: $1465
M4A4 Asiimov BS, B/O: $55
M4A4 Hellfire MW, B/O: $50
⎯USP-S Kill Confirmed MW, B/O: $72
USP-S Printstream FT, B/O: $69
StatTrak™ USP-S Kill Confirmed FT, B/O: $139
⎯AUG Flame Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $234
P90 Run and Hide FT, B/O: $147
Five-SeveN Candy Apple FN, B/O: $61
Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory
Some items on the list may no longer be available or are still locked, visit My Inventory for more details.
Send a Trade Offer for fastest response. I consider all offers.
Add me for discuss if there is a serious offer that needs to be discussed.
2023.05.29 17:07 IvannB Why is this game so hard
I'm decent to above average at other shooters, apex, cod, all the usual. But for some reason battlefield games are so difficult for me. It's hard for me to focus on one thing and my aim SUCKS in these games. I love bf1 and bf4 but I can't play when playing feels like a fever dream because of all the stuff that is happening. Has anyone else had to overcome this? Can you tell me how if so?
submitted by IvannB to battlefield_one [link] [comments]
2023.05.29 17:02 Previous_Surprise_93 Interconnecting dreams
Dream 7 I had a dream i was on the highway and there was a secret hideout kind of place under this highway bridge and you had to cross the highway with all the speeding cars to get there, I only saw it because I saw someone else go in. When I got inside, it was a huge white tile room, tiles on all sides, and in the room there were chairs in a row.. kind of like you were playing musical chairs but with machines hooked up to them.
Dream 8 Another dream I was in world war 2 and me and a few other soldiers crossed a bridge and went into this partly torn apart house for shelter and in the house we found this room that all it had was what seemed like a picture frame from floor to ceiling but instead of a picture there was a tunnel. So I went into the tunnel and on the other side i was in the white tile bathroom from dream 7.
submitted by Previous_Surprise_93 to Dreams [link] [comments]
Dream 8 Another dream I was in world war 2 and me and a few other soldiers crossed a bridge and went into this partly torn apart house for shelter and in the house we found this room that all it had was what seemed like a picture frame from floor to ceiling but instead of a picture there was a tunnel. So I went into the tunnel and on the other side i was in the white tile bathroom from dream 7.
2023.05.29 16:56 bimbo_wannabe_ [I Accidentally Joined The Mafia In South Brooklyn] Chapter 6: On The Organizational Habits of Unrested Spirits and The Taste of Demon's Blood, Part 1.
![[I Accidentally Joined The Mafia In South Brooklyn] Chapter 6: On The Organizational Habits of Unrested Spirits and The Taste of Demon's Blood, Part 1.](https://preview.redd.it/8u7ykhosst2b1.jpg?width=640&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=5b744f64a6da09632ac427471bc1cbaa47eb9911 "[I Accidentally Joined The Mafia In South Brooklyn] Chapter 6: On The Organizational Habits of Unrested Spirits and The Taste of Demon's Blood, Part 1.") | Previous Part: https://www.reddit.com/redditserials/comments/13trg6g/i_accidentally_joined_the_mafia_in_south_brooklyn/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button submitted by bimbo_wannabe_ to redditserials [link] [comments] Becca invited me to her apartment when we made it back, sent me through the alley behind the building to keep the prying eyes at the minimum. That was fine with me as I was a lot more noticeable than I liked to be, at the moment. I had already lit a cigarette by the time she opened the back door of the stairwell to let me in. It was the last in the pack, and I'd only opened it this morning. The temperature on my phone screen had finally hit zero. "You're gonna have to give me a second, B, I don't wanna smoke around you in your condition but I really need one." She gave me another watery grin. "Little too much blood in the nicotine system, huh?" "Exactly, my young friend, exactly that." She propped the door open and sat herself down on the ground. I could tell the high heels were starting to hurt her because she kicked them off and set them neatly to the side, though I knew the concrete had to be freezing her feet off. She tucked her skirt between her legs and sat with her back against the wall, her elbow propped on her bent knee, the other leg stretched out straight before her. It was exactly how what was left of Antoni had been sitting beside me less than two hours ago. I was getting a little tired of all the patterns appearing in my life these days. I flipped to my news app, as was my habit. There was an article at the top of page about the preparations the SDNY were making to get ready for the coming storm, but frankly I didn't really give a fuck so I just kept scrolling. "Your old neighborhood is in the news, B." "You ain't had enough bad news?" Beccs asked with a rueful laugh. "Eh, I like to stay abreast of current events. I mean, you got me pegged, B. I'm a nosy fuck. But, uh, fifteen years on the inside, you learn that it pays to pay attention to the shit other people don't notice, cause you never know when the information you pick up is going to end up being the information you need." She gave me a look that said she had to yield to my point. "So what's the news from Koreatown?". "Somebody shot a wedding up, apparently. Says seven were killed, including the bride and groom and the bride's father, as they was leaving the reception. You know, most of these names are Rhees. Ain't nobody you know, is it? Kinda feel like you've had enough death for the day, kid." There was another look on her face, one I couldn't quite read even with all my people-watching prowess. "Lemme take a wild stab at it. Two of those names are Rhee Seong-Min and Rhee Bong-Cha." "Yeah," I nodded. "You do know 'em. I'm sorry, B." She gave a low, almost rumbling, chuckle. It gave me a little shiver, not from the cold, and not one of enjoyment, either. She flashed a sign, one I'd seen her flash before, but it wasn't from any gang I knew personally, and lacking any official affiliation of my own, I'd dealt with my fair share of different gang members in the Upstate Correctional Facility. Double E's, one backwards, one forwards, three quick shakes of each hand. "God bless old K-town. But you ain't got to worry about it. I'll not shed a tear over any of them. They's family, but they ain't exactly family, you know. I might tell you about it one day." The last sentence had a note of finality to it, so I didn't ask any further questions in that regard, but I was still as curious as always. "If all your family has Korean names, how the hell did you end up as Rebecca and your Dad as Sam?" "My Dad's name is Park Kyung-Sam. Just Sam was easier to tell people and he, uh, he wanted me to have the same benefit of blending in in American society, and he liked the name Rebecca. So, Rhee Rebecca Hyo-Jin. My Mom's name was Rhee Chung-Cha, but everybody just called her ChaCha, like from Grease." "So your Mom was the Rhee?" She made an affirmative noise and nodded. "She didn't exactly wanna give up her family name, and… my Dad didn't exactly give a fuck cause he was in love with her crazy ass. You know, that's where I get this from. Except my Moms, if she was still around she'd make me look like I grew up to be a calm, quiet girl." I'd hate to see what was worse than Beccs. "You done?" Becca asked. I nodded, tossed my cigarette into the sand-filled bucket we kept here for just that purpose. I followed B inside and we climbed the stairs to the third floor. I leaned against the wall as she pulled a ring of keys from her coat pocket and waited while she unlocked the knob and the three deadbolts on her door. "Pretty serious about your home security, B?" She shot me a look but didn't say anything as she opened the door. A steady beeping greeted us, and Becca stopped just inside and punched in a code on a security panel. As I stepped around her and entered the apartment, I understood why. Do you know that part in Coming To America where Akeem comes home to his dilapidated Queens apartment and realizes Semmi has filled it with expensive furniture? Well, it was exactly like that. Becca locked the door back behind her, threw her stilettos onto the shoe rack, and hung her coat on the brass tree beside it. I did the same, removed my boots to place them on the rack as well. "Jesus Christ, B, this place looks amazing." There was a gray suede sectional in the center of the living room, a 152 inch Panasonic plasma bolted to the wall. The coffee table, the wool Oriental rug beneath it, and the end tables looked antique, as well as the green velvet chaise set near one window. There were three ornately-carved bookcases set against the far wall between the two windows facing the street, one filled with DVDs, and on the other two almost all the books were old and leather bound. The kitchen was open to the room, separated by a butcher block bar from the living room, all matching stainless steel appliances and black marble countertops. All along the walls were family pictures dotted between massive paintings held in golden Baroque style frames. They were… stunning was the only word I could think to describe them. Most of them were portraits done in a slightly impressionist style, impasto if my memory served me, seemingly random strokes of thick paint that somehow managed to form the perfect images of faces and a few nudes. "Jesus Christ, these paintings must have cost a fortune alone." Becca stepped beside me, her arms crossed over her chest as she surveyed the painting I was looking at. It was done in mostly black and red, the image of a sleeping nude man, one arm tucked behind his head, his other draped across his stomach, his hips and legs covered with a sheet. If I touched it, I could have felt the wrinkles in the bunched fabric. There was something oddly familiar about it. "They didn't cost shit," she answered. That made me look away from the painting and back to Beccs. "What the hell? Did you rob a gallery?" "No, you mook, I painted them. They didn't cost anything but the price of the canvas and the paint, which, you know, I stole most of that from school." "You painted them," I repeated, looking back. As I looked closer at the canvas, I realized why it was familiar. The sleeping man was our dear friend Antoni Zabrowska. I had mistaken his tattoos for shadows, though I had to admit I had never seen him look quite so relaxed. As I glanced around the room, I realized I recognized many of the paintings. I was able to pick out her father's face, Rossi's, and I realized the model for the two female nudes was none other than Nia Bianchi. There was one of a woman in white with bloody skeletal wings that bore a strong resemblance to Becca and I imagined that was the infamous ChaCha. "That's what I go to Columbia for. Visual Arts." "You're a goddamn genius, B." She scoffed. "No, I'm fucking serious, kid. My sister collects art, and she refuses to go for the big names. Shit like this, she pays 10 to 20 grand for a painting half this size, more if it's one of the artists she likes." Now she snorted. "What? Your sister got a money tree?" "No, my older sister Aurie's a writer. She wrote her first book when she was ten. She's published 20 so far, but she's got 30 or 40 more in backlog that she's still tweaking. She's kind of a perfectionist when it comes to writing, but I guess it pays off. Her books sell like fucking hotcakes everytime she puts one out, two of her series got picked up by Netflix, and Lion's Gate turned her seventh book into a movie. She even got to be involved in the productions. "She's got a penthouse on the Upper East Side that she bought about six years ago. That's where I lived when I got out of the Upstate. Aurora, she's a fucking Saint, you know. I mean, I had a shitty PO that was up my ass every five minutes but Aurie never said a word about it. She just… always told me she was glad I was home, which, you know, was nice to hear considering that according to my grandparents I died 19 years ago. She was the one that helped me get this place down here, paid in full for a two year lease." Becca raised an eyebrow at me. "No offense, Tony, I can tell you're crazy about her, but she couldn't have picked a better place for you than this hell hole?" I laughed as softly as I could, to save the muscles in my stomach. "I picked this place myself, B. Cheapest apartment I could find in any of the boroughs, and it even had three bedrooms. I was thinking about having space for a library and a home gym." Becca snorted. "Yeah, it's cheap cause the fucking place is about 90 years old. Nobody's been able to get a hold of the slumlord who owns it for repairs in 8 months, but I bet you the motherfucker still collects the rent checks we deposit in his fucking bank account every month." "Yeah, I figured that out just about as soon as I moved in, but beggars can't be choosers. Besides, Antoni always used to help me out whenever something broke." Becca gave a small smile. "They did that for everybody. I used to call them the apartment elves, cause instead of making shoes they were skittering around fixing fucking toilets and sinks, and rewiring burned up outlets and bringing in new refrigerators and stoves when shit broke in everybody else's places. And they bought it all with their own money. Everybody tried to pay them, but they never took a dime for any of it. Ironically enough, Pops used to talk about Antoni all the time because of all the money he'd spend over there every week. Said he had a good heart, just no good sense when it came to what was his responsibility and wasn't. You know, I had my own opinions about Antoni's heart, but I kept them to myself." "I really wish I had paid more attention when Antoni was working on the boiler, though. Instead of just passing him tools and running my mouth." "Yeah, you're good at that," she replied with a smirk. "And fuck you, too, Miss Rebecca. You might be the strong type, but you're not exactly silent yourself." She laughed. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back." I nodded and obeyed as she exited into what I saw was the bathroom as she opened the door and closed it behind her. The sectional was goddamned heaven, and she'd said make myself comfortable so I kicked out the recliner and leaned back. I closed my eyes for a moment and sighed, and when I opened them I nearly jumped out of my skin. I barely managed to stop myself from letting out a yell as I jerked back up to sitting. Antoni's corpse was standing by the picture wall, looking intently at a photo of a child Becca wearing a ruffled, cream colored dress with a ribbon in her long black hair. It was the picture of her first Communion. "Goddamn, you can't give somebody a warning before you do that?" He neither answered me nor turned to look at me because he was using the stumps of his wrists to adjust several of the frames back straight again. "Fucking neat freak," I laughed. "She wasn't lying." He finally turned toward me. You ever seen a corpse try to look annoyed when he's missing about a quarter of his face? I mean, what am I saying, you probably haven't, but suffice to say, it's pretty fucking funny. He raised his left wrist, and if he had hands, he'dve been shooting the bird. Almost hysterical laughter burst out of me as Becca exited the bathroom. "Least the pipes ain't frozen yet," she muttered. She gave me a strange look. "Who are you talking to out here? And what's so funny?" I glanced back to Antoni, but he was gone again. "Don't mind me, B, I'm pretty sure I got a concussion. I'm pretty much seeing pink elephants at this point." Or, you know, the mutilated corpse of my best friend, but it's probably best I leave it at elephants. "Yeah," she answered, and crossed the room to hand me something. "Speaking of." It was a mouth guard. "What is this for?" She didn't answer me, but headed to the kitchen and opened a cabinet, withdrawing a cut crystal scotch glass and then opening the refrigerator and withdrawing… two bags of blood. Nia's blood, to be exact. She unscrewed the cap at the bottom of one, punctured the seal with a fresh insulin needle, and to my supreme discomfort squeezed some into the glass. The mouth guard suddenly made sense. It was so I wouldn't break my teeth or bite my tongue off when the convulsions started and my jaw locked down from consuming demon blood. "Oh no, B, I don't want that." "Yeah. That's why I didn't tell you why I wanted you over here, cause I knew you was gonna be a pussy about it." I tried one more last-ditch effort. "You need that more than me, B." "I can just take my next dose early, but you, you can't go down and see Ma looking like that. She's gonna ask too many questions." That one stopped me. "I've had enough of interrogations for one day, B." "There ain't no interrogation when it comes to Ma. She just puts it in your head that you ain't got no choice but to tell her the truth, and you do. She's made state witnesses get up on the stand and confess their own crimes, pleading the fifth be damned." She screwed the cap back onto the bag and carried them and the glass over to the coffee table and set them down. She walked over and opened a closet door, pulling out an IV pole with a little box attached to it, and grabbed a small cardboard box from off a shelf and what looked like a tackle box. She set it on the coffee table after she pulled the pole over to the sectional and plugged it into the wall, opened the cardboard box and removed a cassette from inside and inserted it into the box on the pole. "What's that?" "It's a blood warmer for rapid transfusions, so I don't go into hypothermia or hemolysis. Little bastard cost 137 thousand, but at least you can buy them online. You put a fresh cassette in every time, the blood runs through it, by the time it gets to my arm it's body temp." She opened the tackle box and removed two fresh lines, attaching one to the bottom of the warmer and one to the top, hanging the bags of blood but not connecting the first of them yet. The top had a drip chamber with a filter, and the bottom held the flow regulator and the hypodermic needle with the cannula inside. "You know, it's not fucking fair, B, you shouldn't have dealt with half the shit in your life that you have." She snorted and her lips pursed with anger as she sat down beside me. "You sound like Rossi with that shit. That's why he wouldn't let me die, said it wasn't fair. I was ready to go into hospice, fuck it, I was ready to see my Mom again. But I'll tell you the same thing I told his stupid old ass. Life ain't fair. Cause if it was I'd have my mother and my baby's father and Jimmy's ass would be the one laying in the morgue. You think it's fair you almost lost a finger because of what he ordered?" I laughed. "No, I actually think that's pretty fair. That's karma, B. I was usually the one doing the beating. How do you think I ended up in prison?" She looked hard at me for a moment. "I mean, you never told me. You were pretty open about having gone to prison, but you never said why." "Well, I learned to be open about it. Some people get real upset when they find out they're dealing with someone who's been through the system, so I didn't really wanna go through that again. So now I just tell people up front, let them decide for themselves if they wanna deal with me or not. That way they can't throw it back in my face, say I lied to them." Becca let out a bitter chuckle. "So what's your story?" "Well, we still ain't finished your story, yet, but we'll take a detour. The whole thing started my Senior year of high school. First game of the year, I blew my knee out, big as a bitch, tore everything there was to tear, shit was basically hanging on by the skin alone. Orthopedics said I had two choices, keep playing football or, retain the ability to walk on that leg, so… there went all my big dreams of college ball and making it onto the Giants." "Linebacker?" I nodded. "Middle linebacker. I was good at it. 6'7, 265 pounds but light on my feet, all muscle. Back then I was running 7 percent body fat, and wasn't even trying. Shit just… all came natural to me. It all blew up in my face. Shitloads of surgery and physical therapy, and then one day the pain pills stopped but the pain didn't. Everyday, every night, I was still hurting." She nodded. "I know about bone pain. I could always tell when I needed to up the dose when my bones started hurting. When I started out all it took was an insulin needle. Now I take so much, I'm not even sure I qualify as human. But I guess I won't be much longer. That's always been the plan. Just keep me alive till 30 and Ma's gonna make me like her. That's the preferred age for the Entrance, something to do with the Trinity." I nodded. "I started asking around school if anyone knew where to get some Percs but pain management keeps that shit so tight I could only get a few at a time. Not only was they expensive, it wasn't enough. I got hooked up with this kid named Alessandro, he told me if I really wanted to control the pain, he could get me something better and cheaper. He took me to meet his uncle, Colombian guy named Marco. First shot is free and it was… it was beautiful. Everybody always gets sick the first time, but I didn't. And then after that, all my free money from my after school job started going to horse, and uh, I got my last six months off school. I already had all the credits I needed from AP classes, started working full time. They didn't piss test. But, my tolerance was rising faster than my income was." I took a deep breath. "I'd been buying enough that Marco was offering me fronts but I never took it. So next time I went, I asked him for my usual and I asked how much it would be for two O's on the front, cause I knew a lot of other users and I was thinking of starting to sell myself. So, he told me he'd give me a pound, and we could settle up at the end of the month." "Jesus Christ, if you were selling a pound a month you must have been making bank." I shook my head. "I wasn't in it for the money. I was in it to keep myself supplied. If I kept my prices right, I could use for free, and I had enough left over to pay my portion of the rent and help pay for the groceries. I got good at it, I'd take a shot, and nod out for a few minutes, then get up and start walking the streets." Becca snorted. "You wasn't standing on a street corner?" "Fuck no. Too visible. I did all my business by phone. I had a burner and gave everyone the number, and when they needed some they'd give me a call and I'd meet them or they'd meet me. I had ethics. I used to have people offering me fucking blowjobs for a bag, but I always said no, shit felt wrong. All they had to do was pay me by the end of the month but, sometimes…" She gave a grin. "But sometimes, 'Bitch, where's my money?'" "Yeah, sometimes people would try to skip out, so I had to apply a little pressure to persuade them to pay. I never killed nobody, it's hard as hell to get money out of a dead man. But, black a few eyes and break a few bones and suddenly they had money they didn't before. Being my size, there wasn't many of them that could fight back. But, I fucked up the wrong lowlife. "There was this prick, he'd been dodging me for weeks. He owed me like two grand, I'd given him that much because I knew he had money, so when I finally caught up to him, I was pretty mad and, the bitch, he told me he wasn't going to pay me. Thought he was better than me, thought he could fuck me and get away with it. So I beat the mortal hell out of him, took his wallet. He had five grand in there but I figured, 3K surcharge for wasting my time." I shook my head. "But I should have done some better research on who I was going after. Turned out the little prick had a socialite for a mother and his Daddy was a hedge fund manager and… I'd hurt him pretty bad. First three months, not only was I dealing with DTs, I was waiting to see if they were going to add Murder to my charges. He was in a coma for that long, and when he woke up, he had to learn to walk again, how to feed himself. I beat him so bad I gave him brain damage." "Goddamn, Tony." "Apparently his parents knew their son's habits and knew exactly who I was, cause they went straight to the police, and two days later SWAT showed up, turned the house upside down. I smashed my phone into pieces, flushed it so they couldn't get my contacts, but I didn't think about the fact I still had the wallet with his driver's license in it. My grandparents disowned me, right then and there. I had just reupped so they caught me with 14 ounces, all it takes is 8 for Class A felony possession. I spent 13 months in Rikers, but my sister got me a good lawyer, he knew the judge and the prosecutor personally, golfed with them, so he got me a plea deal. I was looking at life in prison, but he argued that I was a good student that had made a bad mistake because of a chronic pain issue, and they were both first offenses, so if I pled guilty, agreed to go through a substance abuse program and anger management, then they'd give me the minimum sentence. "15 years, Class A Felony Drug Possession, 3 years, Class B felony First Degree Assault, intentionally causing grievous bodily harm while in the commission of another felony. But, at my sentencing, the judge said I was a big guy, with a big anger problem. I hadn't killed anyone, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Said I was a danger to society, so when I got to the UCF, they put me in dark red." "Supermax?" I nodded. "23 hours a day in a box by myself, no visitors, barely saw the guards. But, I stayed quiet, made no problems. Prison was overcrowded so I ended up with a cellmate, and I was glad to see him. It could have been Hannibal Lecter and I would have gave him a hug. He might have been a murderer but he was actually a decent guy. Him and his crew had knocked over some jewelry stores in Manhattan, last job went bad. He'd killed three cops, so he wasn't never getting out. Neither was his wife. Life in Bedford Hills." "That's where they was gonna send me if Ma hadn't got the jury to give me a Not Guilty verdict." I knew Becca had a tendency to get in trouble because beside the cheerleading pictures in the bodega, there was also a mugshot. "What did you do?" She gave a bitter chuckle again. "Unlike you, I killed someone. 2021, this fucking crackhead tried to rob the store. He shot the customer that was in there, old guy named Mickey, killed him. He used to live in your apartment. Tried to shoot me, too, but the gun jammed and I had the aluminum baseball bat under the counter. I just started swinging. He went down, but I jumped the counter, and hit him again. Blood lust is a real thing. Once I saw he was bleeding, I wanted to see more. I beat his brains out, literally, he was dead long before the cops ever got there. Bat looked like a toothpick when I was done. "They arrested me, and the DA himself showed up at my arraignment. Said self defense didn't apply, sent me straight up to Murder 2, requested I be denied bail because I had a passport and plenty of money so I was a flight risk. But we all knew the truth. He was still pissed that he hadn't been able to send Rossi away for longer, and I was the next best thing. Ma had to pull a lot of strings to make sure I still got my transfusions when I was in lockup. I was in Rikers for four months, had my eighteenth birthday sitting in the Singer Unit." "Goddamned patterns," I muttered, then raised my voice again. "You, me, and Antoni all got that in common, except he wasn't like us. He was already in prison. That's what the rose meant, turned eighteen in prison. Life sentence, triple murder." "He told you that?" She looked betrayed, so I was quick to answer. "No, the tattoos told me that. Google is my best friend, B. That's what the skull and crossbones, and the coffins on his arm meant." She swallowed, and nodded again. "But, I moved down," I continued. "Went to orange when they moved me to Gen Pop, and I had friends waiting for me. Marco was very appreciative of me keeping quiet about my source at trial, so outside Abuela Bogota's was where I hung out the most. But I had friends all over. My sister was smart. She always put way more in my account than I could spend, so whenever I heard that somebody needed something, I'd go to the canteen and buy it myself and pass it to 'em. Nobody had to owe me shit. All I wanted was to be left alone, so I had people watching my back from all sides. I ended up in blue, got moved to the dormitory, started working in the kitchen, ended up running it, cause I was a 'model prisoner.'" "You ever fool around with any of your cellmates?" Becca asked with a grin. "Cause I did." I gave an uncomfortable laugh. "I mean, yeah. 15 years is a long time to be alone. I don't consider myself bisexual even, but if somebody offers, you know…" I shrugged. "I think the word you're looking for is heteroflexible. That's how Antoni referred to himself. He had a thing for you, you know." That stopped me dead. "You're fucking with me, B." "Nope. He asked me once if I'd mind if he ever got the chance to hook up with you, and I told him no, as long as he didn't mind I still hooked up with my old girlfriends from high school. But he never asked you, said he loved you too much, was afraid of ruining your friendship." "Jesus Christ," I shook my head, finally decided I needed time to process that, and moved on. "But, my last year there, Covid hit, and, I volunteered to work in the infirmary, but pretty soon the infirmary was filled, they started keeping people in the hallway, and finally they just ended up leaving them in their beds, I was all over the place. People dropping like flies. Everytime someone coughed or sneezed, everbody'd get nervous. I been smoking since I was 16, so I cough my lungs out every morning. "People was looking at me like I was Death Incarnate. But I never caught it, not even once. And I was all around the sick, I was taking the bodies out to the truck outside the gate. Could've run but I didn't. Only had a few years left. It worked in my favor. They cut the last three years off my sentence, put me on supervised release and now, here I am, 36 years old, and just starting my adult life." "Rossi got let out of lockup right before lockdown, poor bastard. Me, him, and my Dad all quarantined at Ma's, but of course, you know, me and Dad was essential workers so at least I got to get out of the house everyday. I graduated early, at 16, been working seven days a week since." I glanced at the glass on the table. "So let's get back to your story." She shook her head, lips pursed again. "Uh-uh, you're not wasting anymore time. Take the blood, but first," she reached out, quicker than I could even register, and used her thumbs to set my broken nose back straight. I let out a yell, momentarily unable to see as my eyes filled with tears. "Jesus wept, Becca, fucking hell, goddamn." "Sorry. It would've hurt more if you'd known it was coming. Besides, you're a good looking guy, Tony, you don't wanna ruin your face." "Thanks, B," I muttered as I pressed the toilet paper back to my freshly bleeding nose, tears streaming down my cheeks. "Need a haircut though." "Nah, you oughta keep it. It's very The Dark Knight Joker, just black, not blonde and green." I laughed quietly. "Not sure that's the best association, B. A little too psychotic and violent." She raised an eyebrow at me. "Alright, alright. It's probably an accurate association, just a little less arson and murder." I sighed and looked at the scotch glass. "So how do I do this, B?" "Think about it like a tequila shot. Take the shot and then slip the guard in quick. Then sit back, try to relax." I nodded and grabbed the glass before I lost my nerve. I raised it in her direction. "Saluti." "Geonbae." She responded. |
2023.05.29 16:52 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 50.000$+ INVENTORY. M9 Fade, M4 Poseidon, BFK Freehand, Crimson Kimono, Nomad Fade, Skeleton, Kara Lore, Bayo Autotronic, AWP Fade, Kara Damas, BFK Ultra, Kara Freehand, Kara Bright, M9 Damas, Omega, Tiger Strike, Flip MF, Bayo Tiger, Deagle Blaze, Talon & More
Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory
Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.
All Buyouts are listed in cash value.
KNIVES
★ Butterfly Knife Freehand FN #1, B/O: $2500
★ Butterfly Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $822
★ Butterfly Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $616
⎯★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW #1, B/O: $1300
★ Bayonet Autotronic FN, B/O: $1050
★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW, B/O: $629
★ Bayonet Bright Water FT, B/O: $326
★ Bayonet Safari Mesh BS, B/O: $233
⎯★ Karambit Lore FT, B/O: $1110
★ Karambit Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $840
★ Karambit Freehand MW, B/O: $784
★ Karambit Bright Water MW, B/O: $759
⎯★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1801
★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1801
★ M9 Bayonet Damascus Steel FN, B/O: $751
⎯★ Nomad Knife Fade FN, B/O: $1156
★ Nomad Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $544
★ Nomad Knife Blue Steel WW, B/O: $318
⎯★ Flip Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $646
★ Flip Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $574
★ Flip Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) MW, B/O: $552
★ Flip Knife Case Hardened FT, B/O: $257
★ Flip Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $255
★ StatTrak™ Flip Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $287
⎯★ Huntsman Knife Lore FN, B/O: $461
★ Huntsman Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $436
★ Huntsman Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $353
★ Huntsman Knife Autotronic FT, B/O: $212
★ Huntsman Knife Bright Water FT, B/O: $129
★ Huntsman Knife Forest DDPAT MW, B/O: $129
★ Huntsman Knife Forest DDPAT BS, B/O: $123
★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Rust Coat BS, B/O: $127
⎯★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $375
★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $363
★ Bowie Knife Tiger Tooth FN, B/O: $269
★ Bowie Knife Crimson Web WW, B/O: $192
★ Bowie Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $159
★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $126
⎯★ Stiletto Knife Slaughter FN, B/O: $616
★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web FT, B/O: $412
★ StatTrak™ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe FT, B/O: $227
⎯★ Falchion Knife Lore FT, B/O: $214
★ Falchion Knife Autotronic FT, B/O: $192
★ Falchion Knife Scorched WW, B/O: $105
⎯★ Survival Knife Crimson Web BS, B/O: $216
★ Survival Knife Case Hardened FT, B/O: $198
★ Survival Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $111
⎯★ Shadow Daggers Fade FN, B/O: $368
★ Shadow Daggers Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $228
★ Shadow Daggers, B/O: $201
★ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $108
★ Shadow Daggers Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $105
★ Shadow Daggers Black Laminate FT, B/O: $99
★ Shadow Daggers Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $85
⎯★ Gut Knife Doppler (Sapphire) MW #1, B/O: $1700
★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $223
★ Gut Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $203
★ Gut Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $191
★ Gut Knife Case Hardened BS, B/O: $127
⎯★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $199
★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $199
★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $138
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel FN, B/O: $111
⎯★ Classic Knife Urban Masked FT, B/O: $146
★ StatTrak™ Classic Knife Stained BS, B/O: $168
⎯★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $476
★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $375
⎯★ Skeleton Knife, B/O: $1137
★ Talon Knife, B/O: $608
★ Paracord Knife, B/O: $305
★ Survival Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97
GLOVES
★ Moto Gloves Transport MW, B/O: $204
★ Moto Gloves Polygon BS, B/O: $142
★ Moto Gloves Blood Pressure BS, B/O: $84
★ Moto Gloves Blood Pressure BS, B/O: $84
★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $63
★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $63
⎯★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Kimono WW, B/O: $1215
★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike FT, B/O: $672
★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander FT, B/O: $305
★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander BS, B/O: $140
★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web BS, B/O: $137
★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot FT, B/O: $75
⎯★ Driver Gloves Crimson Weave FT, B/O: $359
★ Driver Gloves Imperial Plaid BS, B/O: $229
★ Driver Gloves Overtake BS, B/O: $77
★ Driver Gloves Racing Green FT, B/O: $48
⎯★ Sport Gloves Omega FT, B/O: $739
★ Sport Gloves Amphibious BS #2, B/O: $733
★ Sport Gloves Arid BS, B/O: $292
⎯★ Hand Wraps Giraffe MW, B/O: $212
★ Hand Wraps Leather FT, B/O: $160
★ Hand Wraps Desert Shamagh MW, B/O: $101
⎯★ Broken Fang Gloves Yellow-banded MW, B/O: $185
★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point FT, B/O: $67
★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point WW, B/O: $59
⎯★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened BS, B/O: $65
★ Hydra Gloves Emerald FT, B/O: $65
★ Hydra Gloves Emerald BS, B/O: $62
WEAPONS
AK-47 Case Hardened BS, B/O: $130
AK-47 Bloodsport MW, B/O: $79
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76
AK-47 Bloodsport FT, B/O: $70
AK-47 Neon Rider MW, B/O: $60
StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge FT, B/O: $72
⎯AWP Fade FN, B/O: $1039
AWP Asiimov FT, B/O: $139
AWP Asiimov FT, B/O: $139
AWP Wildfire MW, B/O: $95
AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $93
AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $93
AWP Duality FN, B/O: $81
AWP Asiimov BS, B/O: $79
AWP Asiimov BS, B/O: $79
AWP Chromatic Aberration FN, B/O: $60
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $68
StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $68
StatTrak™ AWP Electric Hive FT, B/O: $55
⎯Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $623
Desert Eagle Emerald Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $241
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $81
Desert Eagle Printstream FT, B/O: $54
⎯M4A1-S Blue Phosphor FN, B/O: $434
StatTrak™ M4A1-S Bright Water MW, B/O: $55
⎯M4A4 Poseidon FN, B/O: $1465
M4A4 Asiimov BS, B/O: $55
M4A4 Hellfire MW, B/O: $50
⎯USP-S Kill Confirmed MW, B/O: $72
USP-S Printstream FT, B/O: $69
StatTrak™ USP-S Kill Confirmed FT, B/O: $139
⎯AUG Flame Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $234
P90 Run and Hide FT, B/O: $147
Five-SeveN Candy Apple FN, B/O: $61
Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory
Some items on the list may no longer be available or are still locked, visit My Inventory for more details.
Send a Trade Offer for fastest response. I consider all offers.
Add me for discuss if there is a serious offer that needs to be discussed.
2023.05.29 16:39 Dougfalcon7 Obviously some songs are on there as jokes, namely Pop Is Dead and the last one
 | submitted by Dougfalcon7 to radiohead [link] [comments] |
2023.05.29 16:29 SilenceoftheCicadas Entomology/Insect Shadowboxes and Double Glass Frames
Just wondering what kind of glue would be best for mounting insect specimens in shadowboxes. I’ve seen a lot of mixed opinions on hot glue, super glue, and silicone glues. I’m trying to mount some of my collection and make one as a gift, so I’m trying to find the best option, especially if the gift one needs shipped (I’m a bit worried about breakage).
submitted by SilenceoftheCicadas to Taxidermy [link] [comments]
2023.05.29 16:29 YukiteruAmano92 There Will Be Scritches Pt.98
Previous Interlewd XXVII Next First
---Job---
---Lhamo’s perspective---
---2686 Terran Calenda27 years BF---
I watch the British woman of FrancoJapanese parentage stride from the floor of the Parliament of our (recently capitulated) enemies.
She is surrounded by four of the most physically imposing Humans I’ve ever seen! Not one of them less than 210cm!
I suppose, when our army numbers in the hundreds of billions, finding one-in-a-millions isn’t too hard(!)
Me and the rest of her retinue fall in behind her as she passes through the vomitorium and turns to my left, her right, towards her temporary office.
As large in stature as the durasteel clad soldiers are, they do not compare to the woman’s android husband, 230cm tall and, from the sound of his bare footfalls, a few hundred kilos in mass!
We reach the door of the (newly designated) office of the Terran Representative and she snarls “You four, guard the door…” addressing her bodyguards “…Ezra, Zurab, Lhamo, inside… Everyone else, piss off and find something to do!”
The door closes behind us.
“Bug sweep, darling…” says the woman, exhaustedly.
“No bugs detected.” answers her husband, instantly.
She slumps onto the chair that had to be brought from our ship after the one provided by the Parliament collapsed under her weight the first time she sat in it.
Tilting her head back, she asks “So… how did I do?”
“You did wonderfully, sweetheart.” answers Ezra, immediately, in his flat, serene cadence.
She reaches a hand out to one of his and says “Thank you, darling! You are my rock… but I was really asking these two…” gesturing at me and the KartveloTamil man with her other hand.
“My opinion…” smiles Mudaliar “…pitch perfect! No notes!”
“Agreed.” I concur.
She leans her elbows onto the table in front of her, quickly removing them when she hears its groans of protest.
“There’ll be a lot of people back home who think that we let them off too easy… who’ll think that we should have pulled a fucking Versailles on their arses!” she muses.
“A punitive Peace would foster resentment in the gardenworlder populace… They would feel as if their leaders stabbed them in the back by surrendering… Not to mention giving ammunition to antideathworlder bigots!… We need future generations of gardenworlders to think their ancestors were wrong to declare War on us, not wrong to sue for Peace…” I remind her.
“Enumerating their various hypocrisies, warcrimes and the many violations of their own laws that they perpetrated serves that end well… Hundreds of trillions of GU citizens, who personally had little to nothing to do with the War, suddenly finding their salaries cut in half to pay our War reparations would very much be counter to it(!)… Let us hope that demanding the most heinous warcriminals be remanded to Terran custody to stand trial placates the sabre rattlers back home…” adds Mudaliar.
“Yes, but…! I don’t know… I feel like we should have got something more from them!… Instructions on how to reproduce their more advanced tech, maybe…?”
Mudaliar purses his lips in a joyless smile and shakes his head “We just (relatively handily) defeated them in a War with technology centuries behind theirs… Their tech is not something we can ask them to trust us with yet… we need to build their trust first. It’s going to take time… It’s going to take…”
*Knock**Knock**Knock**Knock**Knock**Knock*
“What!?” snarls Miyazaki to whatever poor unfortunate soul is requesting entry.
One of the towering guards, in their sleek, state of the art durasteel, enters.
“Apologies for the interruption, Mistress Miyazaki… There’s a delivery for you. Already been scanned for explosive, biological and chemical agents etc… It’s clean.”
“A delivery…?” she says, screwing up her face in a mixture of confusion and contempt for a moment before shifting to appraisal and beckoning wordlessly.
The towering man enters the room and stands to one side, revealing a small woman with pink skin, purple tendrils covering her scalp, three teal eyes and three legs with one too many joints.
The girl looks terrified as she walks in, a levitating platform following behind her with a heavy looking cube (around a metre wide, deep and tall) on top.
Looking as if she might be about to burst into tears from her fear, the pink skinned girl holds out a holo toward Miyazaki (though still around 8m away) and says “C-c-could you… s-s-s-sssign h-here, p-please?”
“What am I signing for?” asks Miyazaki, flatly.
“Th-this?” says the scared delivery girl, gesturing at the glossy cube.
Fury flashes across Miyazaki’s face and, before she can traumatise the poor girl, I step in.
“I think what our Representative means is that we weren’t expecting a delivery… Would you mind telling us what this is?” I say, kindly, smiling (without teeth) down at the girl.
“I-it’s… a d-data drive…?” she asks more than tells.
A data drive!?
That’s absurd!!!
With how insanely advanced their computing is, a physical storage device this large would represent several multiples of all the information Humanity has ever set to page!
“What’s on this data drive, sweetie?” I smile, trying not to betray any of my desperate curiosity to her.
“It’s a c-compendium… of a-all Galactic Union t-technologies and ssscience…”
The room stands in stunned silence for 9 straight seconds while we all process what the little xeno girl just said.
She shifts uncomfortably, looking at Miyazaki and, clearly, unwilling to approach her.
Shellshocked, I eventually manage to say “I… can… sign… for that…”
Looking relieved, she hands me her holo and a stylus.
I scrawl out my name in the abugidic script of my native Tibetan, my hand then making a second pass on the line, adding the vowel markers.
The girl looks thoroughly relieved not to have had to get any closer than she is to the intimidating woman behind the desk, in the formal blue dress.
I hand the device back to her and she uses it to direct the platform to unload its cargo.
She does not wait to be dismissed, beating a hasty retreat from the room, leaving behind the single most valuable object ever possessed by Terrankind!
---2687 Terran Calenda26 years BF---
“We need gardenworlders!” growls Miyazaki, frustratedly, as we pore over the plans for the new agency we’re trying to design “This needs to be more than just the Terran embassy to the GU and vice versa! It needs to set the tone for all our interactions moving forward! We need qualified gardenworlders, ready, willing and able to work alongside the Terran staff! Helping us build our networks and win over potential allies in the Parliament!”
“Yes… well… unless you want to kidnap a complement of gardenworlders to staff it as forced labour, then our choices are open it with a Terran dominated staff and hope we can entice more gardenworld employees at a later date or delay it… again!” points out a weary Mudaliar.
“Guys…” I interject, equally wearily “…I think we’re past the point of productivity for this evening… how about we call it quits and come back to it with fresh eyes, tomorrow?”
“Good idea…” he answers.
The two of us begin getting up but Miyazaki says “Wait…”
We turn to look at her, expectantly.
“How about we go out tonight?… No shoptalk, I promise!…Just think it might be good for us to have a night to cut loose… just the four of us… five, if that hot, young nurse you’re dating wants to come, Zurab?”
Mudaliar smiles “I appreciate the offer… but I really need to sleep… Raincheck?”
“Fair enough… Lhamo?”
I hesitate, considering.
---later---
“Wooooo! Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots shots SHOTS!!!” shouts a merry Miyazaki as she and I raise small glasses of weak spirits to our lips, in a booth in the xeno bar, and tip them down our throats.
Her android husband mimics the action with an empty glass.
She slams her glass onto the table and releases a sigh as she slumps against the padded seatback.
Her expression turns slightly melancholic as she says “Y’know… I don’t know if I’m the right woman for this job…”
“You are.” replies her husband, instantly, almost displaying an emotion for a second there(!) “The fact that you were appointed above all other potential candidates should prove your fitness for the role. They could have chosen anyone and they chose you.”
“I agree with your husband… but what makes you say that, Jeanne?” I query.
“IIIII don’t knooow…” she grumbles “…I sort of feel like I was chosen on the strength of my reputation… and my parents’ reputation for ferocity… but, the thing is, while my mum and my shitstain of a father could give a fiery speech, they also had all the other skills you need to be a diplomat as well!… I feel like I’ve got one skill and it’s scaring people!”
“That’s why I’m here, sweetheart.” smiles Ezra, serenely “You’re the stick and I’m the carrot…”
“Thank you, darling… It’s just… much as I hate to give that man the credit… difficult not to think that my father would’ve done a better job if he’d managed to make it hear without getting his ship blasted out of the sky!”
While I have far more sense than to ever say it, it’s absolutely apparent that the husband Jeanne ‘Blitz’ Miyazaki commissioned for herself is, in all ways, the polar opposite of the late father she despises!
I only ever knew him by his reputation but; where her father was a passionate firebrand, Ezra is calm, measured and tranquil.
Where her father was a gorgeous heartthrob who became a handsome silver fox in his later life, her husband (while certainly not ugly) is definitely much plainer in his looks.
Where her father famously favoured flamboyant modern dress, her husband’s wardrobe looks straight out of a Unification era vid in its conservativeness.
Where her father had a slight frame and a diminutive stature, her husband is tall and solidly built.
And, where Yuki ‘Blizzard’ Miyazaki famously left his wife, Charlotte ‘Guerre’ d’Aureville , after a scandalous extramarital affair with Tombe ‘Breeze’ Upash (another (obviously married) diplomat, no less!) in a move that would have sunk the career of anyone else in his line of work, Ezra certainly seems as if he only has eyes for her!
Several times, she has expressed the thought that raising her half sister, Emiko, to be a decent person is the only good thing that man ever did!
My rumination on that is cut short, before I can answer her imposter syndrome, when she says “You ever consider the diplomat track, Lhamo?”
I give a rueful smile as I answer “I’d need a spouse for that, Jeanne(!)”
Her eyebrows raise in surprise as she says “Oh… you’re ace? I didn’t realise…”
I chuckle and shake my head “Not ace… just 42 with crowsfeet…” I gesture to the corners of my eyes “…I feel like, if I were going to meet Mr Right, it would have happened by now(!)”
“Bah…!” she dismisses, letting out her Francophone side for a second(!) “…None of this ‘too old to find love’ tripe! You’re still a stunner!… Not to mention an intelligent, vibrant woman with a fantastic personality!…Plus… we’re this close to cracking regen!… Pretty soon, 42 will be the new 25… along with every other age over 25(!) You’ve got all the time in the world!… It’d be really great to be able to hand this job off to you or Zurab!… Either of you’d do better than me, I’m sure!… I could go back to Earth, safe in the knowledge that things were being taken care of!”
“Ma’am…” I lean forward and reassuringly pat her wrist “…I promise you, you are the best person for the job… certainly at the moment, anyway!… Please grace us with your presence for a few more years at least!”
She chuckles “How about you get the next round and we’ll make a toast of it(!)”
I smile back “No problem… but I don’t think we’ll be allowed anymore of these…” I gesture to the, one-per-customer, shot glasses.
“Vinjirian ale… 900ml.” says the woman, immediately.
“I will take an empty 900ml glass.” states her husband.
“Got it.” I smile.
“Don’t drink any until Ezra can run chem analysis on it… Don’t want to get drugged!” she reminds me, seriously.
“I promise I won’t!” I chuckle, walking away.
“Oh, and watch him pour! Make sure he doesn’t spit in it or anything!” she adds, a little louder than she needs to but not loud enough that I think the large, porcine, xeno barman will have heard her.
I cross the crowded bar and step to the counter.
“Two Vinjirian ales and an empty glass, please… 900ml, all. Pretty sure you have our waivers for it already.” I smile, with closed lips, up at the orange xeno with the piglike face.
He oinks an acknowledgement and starts pouring.
As I watch him, I notice myself being noticed by a xeno at the far end of the bar.
I don’t turn to look but keep track of him in my periphery while my foveal focus rests, squarely, on the drinks being drawn.
He stands.
“Fuck…” I whisper to myself.
There’s one of two reasons a xeno is likely to be approaching me: either, he’s going to angrily vent at me about how I’m a monster and caused him to lose X number of loved ones in the War… or he’s about to test the rumours about Human promiscuity…
I’m not particularly in the mood for either but I really hope it’s the latter… I don’t know that I would trust the proprietor to take my side if one of his gardenworld patrons gets belligerent.
As the man approaches, he occupies more and more of my attention to the point that, even though I’m looking right at them, I wouldn’t necessarily see if our drinks were tampered with!
Good thing I’ve got a walking laboratory back at my table(!)
The gigantic man has now made it to within a metre of me on my left and stands, looming over me.
Despite the fact that I know, if push came to shove, I could probably put his head clear through the countertop without too much trouble, it’s still uncomfortable to have such a large person so close.
The first words the man speaks catch me completely off guard.
“It’s been a while, Dr Yeshe… I’m very glad to see you again!” comes a warm, familiar voice, speaking Gangsri accented Tibetan and sounding a bit like a Human with a blocked nose.
My head whips left and up, my eyes resting upon a very recognisable patch of smooth, flat, periwinkle coloured skin between two large, orange eyes.
I haven’t seen this man since I was transferred to Forward Operations, 4 years ago!
My joy is so immediate and genuine that I momentarily forget to restrain my smile, so as not to be perceived as making an aggressive display!
He doesn’t flinch at the brief flash of my teeth I involuntarily give him.
“Well, well, well, well, well!… If it isn’t my favourite prisoner of War(!) What a pleasant surprise, Wing Commander!” I say, my voice joyful.
Then, my face falls as I notice the dark blue bruise across his right eye.
“What happened to your eye, Ong?!” I ask, ready to demand the name and badge number of whatever guard it was that did that to him… then remembering that we’re no longer on Gangsri!
He casts his eyes down and shamefully confesses “It’s… not ‘Ong’ anymore… and it’s not ‘Wing Commander’ either… I’m just Ngngomg, now…”
It takes a second before the pieces click together for me.
I gasp as I realise “*Hhhhh*…You were expelled from your tribe?!”
He answers with a doleful Terran nod.
“Because you defected?”
“Just got released here, yesterday… went to my embassy… found my tribal representative… he punched me… told me not to come back to Gollogng… and… here I am…” he gestures around the bar “…drowning my sorrows(!)”
“That’s terrible, On…Ngngomg! I’m so sorry!!!”
“It’s fine…” he lies “…I’ve got some preWar savings to live on for the moment… should also be due two years salary from the GU military… but who knows when or if I’ll ever see that, given how my service ended!”
“They don’t count time spent as a POW to be time you served?” I query.
He puffs through his lips before answering “They do not, no… certainly not when you became a POW by treason!”
“Is… is there anything I can… do?” I offer, pathetically.
He gives a joyless curl of his lips and answers “Sweet of you to offer but… there’s really nothing to be done… Anyway… it was nice seeing you…” and turns to walk a way.
“Wait!” I say, a little more desperately than I mean to.
He turns back, one of his dark blue eyebrows raised quizzically.
“How would you like a job?”
“A job…?” he frowns “A job doing what?”
“Let me buy you a drink and… we can tell you all about it at my table…”
---
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Previous Interlewd XXVII Next First
Dramatis Personae
submitted by YukiteruAmano92 to HFY [link] [comments]
---Job---
---Lhamo’s perspective---
---2686 Terran Calenda27 years BF---
I watch the British woman of FrancoJapanese parentage stride from the floor of the Parliament of our (recently capitulated) enemies.
She is surrounded by four of the most physically imposing Humans I’ve ever seen! Not one of them less than 210cm!
I suppose, when our army numbers in the hundreds of billions, finding one-in-a-millions isn’t too hard(!)
Me and the rest of her retinue fall in behind her as she passes through the vomitorium and turns to my left, her right, towards her temporary office.
As large in stature as the durasteel clad soldiers are, they do not compare to the woman’s android husband, 230cm tall and, from the sound of his bare footfalls, a few hundred kilos in mass!
We reach the door of the (newly designated) office of the Terran Representative and she snarls “You four, guard the door…” addressing her bodyguards “…Ezra, Zurab, Lhamo, inside… Everyone else, piss off and find something to do!”
The door closes behind us.
“Bug sweep, darling…” says the woman, exhaustedly.
“No bugs detected.” answers her husband, instantly.
She slumps onto the chair that had to be brought from our ship after the one provided by the Parliament collapsed under her weight the first time she sat in it.
Tilting her head back, she asks “So… how did I do?”
“You did wonderfully, sweetheart.” answers Ezra, immediately, in his flat, serene cadence.
She reaches a hand out to one of his and says “Thank you, darling! You are my rock… but I was really asking these two…” gesturing at me and the KartveloTamil man with her other hand.
“My opinion…” smiles Mudaliar “…pitch perfect! No notes!”
“Agreed.” I concur.
She leans her elbows onto the table in front of her, quickly removing them when she hears its groans of protest.
“There’ll be a lot of people back home who think that we let them off too easy… who’ll think that we should have pulled a fucking Versailles on their arses!” she muses.
“A punitive Peace would foster resentment in the gardenworlder populace… They would feel as if their leaders stabbed them in the back by surrendering… Not to mention giving ammunition to antideathworlder bigots!… We need future generations of gardenworlders to think their ancestors were wrong to declare War on us, not wrong to sue for Peace…” I remind her.
“Enumerating their various hypocrisies, warcrimes and the many violations of their own laws that they perpetrated serves that end well… Hundreds of trillions of GU citizens, who personally had little to nothing to do with the War, suddenly finding their salaries cut in half to pay our War reparations would very much be counter to it(!)… Let us hope that demanding the most heinous warcriminals be remanded to Terran custody to stand trial placates the sabre rattlers back home…” adds Mudaliar.
“Yes, but…! I don’t know… I feel like we should have got something more from them!… Instructions on how to reproduce their more advanced tech, maybe…?”
Mudaliar purses his lips in a joyless smile and shakes his head “We just (relatively handily) defeated them in a War with technology centuries behind theirs… Their tech is not something we can ask them to trust us with yet… we need to build their trust first. It’s going to take time… It’s going to take…”
*Knock**Knock**Knock**Knock**Knock**Knock*
“What!?” snarls Miyazaki to whatever poor unfortunate soul is requesting entry.
One of the towering guards, in their sleek, state of the art durasteel, enters.
“Apologies for the interruption, Mistress Miyazaki… There’s a delivery for you. Already been scanned for explosive, biological and chemical agents etc… It’s clean.”
“A delivery…?” she says, screwing up her face in a mixture of confusion and contempt for a moment before shifting to appraisal and beckoning wordlessly.
The towering man enters the room and stands to one side, revealing a small woman with pink skin, purple tendrils covering her scalp, three teal eyes and three legs with one too many joints.
The girl looks terrified as she walks in, a levitating platform following behind her with a heavy looking cube (around a metre wide, deep and tall) on top.
Looking as if she might be about to burst into tears from her fear, the pink skinned girl holds out a holo toward Miyazaki (though still around 8m away) and says “C-c-could you… s-s-s-sssign h-here, p-please?”
“What am I signing for?” asks Miyazaki, flatly.
“Th-this?” says the scared delivery girl, gesturing at the glossy cube.
Fury flashes across Miyazaki’s face and, before she can traumatise the poor girl, I step in.
“I think what our Representative means is that we weren’t expecting a delivery… Would you mind telling us what this is?” I say, kindly, smiling (without teeth) down at the girl.
“I-it’s… a d-data drive…?” she asks more than tells.
A data drive!?
That’s absurd!!!
With how insanely advanced their computing is, a physical storage device this large would represent several multiples of all the information Humanity has ever set to page!
“What’s on this data drive, sweetie?” I smile, trying not to betray any of my desperate curiosity to her.
“It’s a c-compendium… of a-all Galactic Union t-technologies and ssscience…”
The room stands in stunned silence for 9 straight seconds while we all process what the little xeno girl just said.
She shifts uncomfortably, looking at Miyazaki and, clearly, unwilling to approach her.
Shellshocked, I eventually manage to say “I… can… sign… for that…”
Looking relieved, she hands me her holo and a stylus.
I scrawl out my name in the abugidic script of my native Tibetan, my hand then making a second pass on the line, adding the vowel markers.
The girl looks thoroughly relieved not to have had to get any closer than she is to the intimidating woman behind the desk, in the formal blue dress.
I hand the device back to her and she uses it to direct the platform to unload its cargo.
She does not wait to be dismissed, beating a hasty retreat from the room, leaving behind the single most valuable object ever possessed by Terrankind!
---2687 Terran Calenda26 years BF---
“We need gardenworlders!” growls Miyazaki, frustratedly, as we pore over the plans for the new agency we’re trying to design “This needs to be more than just the Terran embassy to the GU and vice versa! It needs to set the tone for all our interactions moving forward! We need qualified gardenworlders, ready, willing and able to work alongside the Terran staff! Helping us build our networks and win over potential allies in the Parliament!”
“Yes… well… unless you want to kidnap a complement of gardenworlders to staff it as forced labour, then our choices are open it with a Terran dominated staff and hope we can entice more gardenworld employees at a later date or delay it… again!” points out a weary Mudaliar.
“Guys…” I interject, equally wearily “…I think we’re past the point of productivity for this evening… how about we call it quits and come back to it with fresh eyes, tomorrow?”
“Good idea…” he answers.
The two of us begin getting up but Miyazaki says “Wait…”
We turn to look at her, expectantly.
“How about we go out tonight?… No shoptalk, I promise!…Just think it might be good for us to have a night to cut loose… just the four of us… five, if that hot, young nurse you’re dating wants to come, Zurab?”
Mudaliar smiles “I appreciate the offer… but I really need to sleep… Raincheck?”
“Fair enough… Lhamo?”
I hesitate, considering.
---later---
“Wooooo! Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots shots SHOTS!!!” shouts a merry Miyazaki as she and I raise small glasses of weak spirits to our lips, in a booth in the xeno bar, and tip them down our throats.
Her android husband mimics the action with an empty glass.
She slams her glass onto the table and releases a sigh as she slumps against the padded seatback.
Her expression turns slightly melancholic as she says “Y’know… I don’t know if I’m the right woman for this job…”
“You are.” replies her husband, instantly, almost displaying an emotion for a second there(!) “The fact that you were appointed above all other potential candidates should prove your fitness for the role. They could have chosen anyone and they chose you.”
“I agree with your husband… but what makes you say that, Jeanne?” I query.
“IIIII don’t knooow…” she grumbles “…I sort of feel like I was chosen on the strength of my reputation… and my parents’ reputation for ferocity… but, the thing is, while my mum and my shitstain of a father could give a fiery speech, they also had all the other skills you need to be a diplomat as well!… I feel like I’ve got one skill and it’s scaring people!”
“That’s why I’m here, sweetheart.” smiles Ezra, serenely “You’re the stick and I’m the carrot…”
“Thank you, darling… It’s just… much as I hate to give that man the credit… difficult not to think that my father would’ve done a better job if he’d managed to make it hear without getting his ship blasted out of the sky!”
While I have far more sense than to ever say it, it’s absolutely apparent that the husband Jeanne ‘Blitz’ Miyazaki commissioned for herself is, in all ways, the polar opposite of the late father she despises!
I only ever knew him by his reputation but; where her father was a passionate firebrand, Ezra is calm, measured and tranquil.
Where her father was a gorgeous heartthrob who became a handsome silver fox in his later life, her husband (while certainly not ugly) is definitely much plainer in his looks.
Where her father famously favoured flamboyant modern dress, her husband’s wardrobe looks straight out of a Unification era vid in its conservativeness.
Where her father had a slight frame and a diminutive stature, her husband is tall and solidly built.
And, where Yuki ‘Blizzard’ Miyazaki famously left his wife, Charlotte ‘Guerre’ d’Aureville , after a scandalous extramarital affair with Tombe ‘Breeze’ Upash (another (obviously married) diplomat, no less!) in a move that would have sunk the career of anyone else in his line of work, Ezra certainly seems as if he only has eyes for her!
Several times, she has expressed the thought that raising her half sister, Emiko, to be a decent person is the only good thing that man ever did!
My rumination on that is cut short, before I can answer her imposter syndrome, when she says “You ever consider the diplomat track, Lhamo?”
I give a rueful smile as I answer “I’d need a spouse for that, Jeanne(!)”
Her eyebrows raise in surprise as she says “Oh… you’re ace? I didn’t realise…”
I chuckle and shake my head “Not ace… just 42 with crowsfeet…” I gesture to the corners of my eyes “…I feel like, if I were going to meet Mr Right, it would have happened by now(!)”
“Bah…!” she dismisses, letting out her Francophone side for a second(!) “…None of this ‘too old to find love’ tripe! You’re still a stunner!… Not to mention an intelligent, vibrant woman with a fantastic personality!…Plus… we’re this close to cracking regen!… Pretty soon, 42 will be the new 25… along with every other age over 25(!) You’ve got all the time in the world!… It’d be really great to be able to hand this job off to you or Zurab!… Either of you’d do better than me, I’m sure!… I could go back to Earth, safe in the knowledge that things were being taken care of!”
“Ma’am…” I lean forward and reassuringly pat her wrist “…I promise you, you are the best person for the job… certainly at the moment, anyway!… Please grace us with your presence for a few more years at least!”
She chuckles “How about you get the next round and we’ll make a toast of it(!)”
I smile back “No problem… but I don’t think we’ll be allowed anymore of these…” I gesture to the, one-per-customer, shot glasses.
“Vinjirian ale… 900ml.” says the woman, immediately.
“I will take an empty 900ml glass.” states her husband.
“Got it.” I smile.
“Don’t drink any until Ezra can run chem analysis on it… Don’t want to get drugged!” she reminds me, seriously.
“I promise I won’t!” I chuckle, walking away.
“Oh, and watch him pour! Make sure he doesn’t spit in it or anything!” she adds, a little louder than she needs to but not loud enough that I think the large, porcine, xeno barman will have heard her.
I cross the crowded bar and step to the counter.
“Two Vinjirian ales and an empty glass, please… 900ml, all. Pretty sure you have our waivers for it already.” I smile, with closed lips, up at the orange xeno with the piglike face.
He oinks an acknowledgement and starts pouring.
As I watch him, I notice myself being noticed by a xeno at the far end of the bar.
I don’t turn to look but keep track of him in my periphery while my foveal focus rests, squarely, on the drinks being drawn.
He stands.
“Fuck…” I whisper to myself.
There’s one of two reasons a xeno is likely to be approaching me: either, he’s going to angrily vent at me about how I’m a monster and caused him to lose X number of loved ones in the War… or he’s about to test the rumours about Human promiscuity…
I’m not particularly in the mood for either but I really hope it’s the latter… I don’t know that I would trust the proprietor to take my side if one of his gardenworld patrons gets belligerent.
As the man approaches, he occupies more and more of my attention to the point that, even though I’m looking right at them, I wouldn’t necessarily see if our drinks were tampered with!
Good thing I’ve got a walking laboratory back at my table(!)
The gigantic man has now made it to within a metre of me on my left and stands, looming over me.
Despite the fact that I know, if push came to shove, I could probably put his head clear through the countertop without too much trouble, it’s still uncomfortable to have such a large person so close.
The first words the man speaks catch me completely off guard.
“It’s been a while, Dr Yeshe… I’m very glad to see you again!” comes a warm, familiar voice, speaking Gangsri accented Tibetan and sounding a bit like a Human with a blocked nose.
My head whips left and up, my eyes resting upon a very recognisable patch of smooth, flat, periwinkle coloured skin between two large, orange eyes.
I haven’t seen this man since I was transferred to Forward Operations, 4 years ago!
My joy is so immediate and genuine that I momentarily forget to restrain my smile, so as not to be perceived as making an aggressive display!
He doesn’t flinch at the brief flash of my teeth I involuntarily give him.
“Well, well, well, well, well!… If it isn’t my favourite prisoner of War(!) What a pleasant surprise, Wing Commander!” I say, my voice joyful.
Then, my face falls as I notice the dark blue bruise across his right eye.
“What happened to your eye, Ong?!” I ask, ready to demand the name and badge number of whatever guard it was that did that to him… then remembering that we’re no longer on Gangsri!
He casts his eyes down and shamefully confesses “It’s… not ‘Ong’ anymore… and it’s not ‘Wing Commander’ either… I’m just Ngngomg, now…”
It takes a second before the pieces click together for me.
I gasp as I realise “*Hhhhh*…You were expelled from your tribe?!”
He answers with a doleful Terran nod.
“Because you defected?”
“Just got released here, yesterday… went to my embassy… found my tribal representative… he punched me… told me not to come back to Gollogng… and… here I am…” he gestures around the bar “…drowning my sorrows(!)”
“That’s terrible, On…Ngngomg! I’m so sorry!!!”
“It’s fine…” he lies “…I’ve got some preWar savings to live on for the moment… should also be due two years salary from the GU military… but who knows when or if I’ll ever see that, given how my service ended!”
“They don’t count time spent as a POW to be time you served?” I query.
He puffs through his lips before answering “They do not, no… certainly not when you became a POW by treason!”
“Is… is there anything I can… do?” I offer, pathetically.
He gives a joyless curl of his lips and answers “Sweet of you to offer but… there’s really nothing to be done… Anyway… it was nice seeing you…” and turns to walk a way.
“Wait!” I say, a little more desperately than I mean to.
He turns back, one of his dark blue eyebrows raised quizzically.
“How would you like a job?”
“A job…?” he frowns “A job doing what?”
“Let me buy you a drink and… we can tell you all about it at my table…”
---
Support me on Patreon for early access to upcoming releases!
---
Previous Interlewd XXVII Next First
Dramatis Personae
2023.05.29 16:21 TheMightySwiss Upgraded from GH5 to S5ii
 | For those who are interested, this is my first full frame camera, I came from the GH5. The attached lens is the Sigma 24-70 f2.8 Art and Lumix S Pro 70-200 f4. Hopefully this combo will serve me well for many years to come. submitted by TheMightySwiss to Lumix [link] [comments] First impressions of the S5ii (I’ve only had it for 3 days so far): - it has less Fn buttons than the GH5, this is actually the very first thing I noticed once I had it in hand, just how many buttons less it has. Not an issue though, as I didn’t use all Fn buttons before and won’t do so now.
|
2023.05.29 16:10 Ill_Kaleidoscope_443 Can't accept pleasure from my partner during sex
I [20f] and my boyfriend [20m], have been together for almost 4 years now (eachothers firsts). Everythings been always great for us relationship wise, except... sex.
Lets start at the begining of everything. I'll label each section so you can skip, as I'm sure this will be a long post. There's a TL;DR at the end.
------------------------------PREFACE---------------------------------
Don't know if this matters for anything, but I'll put here that he started getting off aged 9/10, and was about as sexed up as a 16 year old guy is at this point in our relationship. And I had only just started getting off at 15, and have never had a good connetion between arousal and getting off. I guess it's a lot easier to ignore when you don't have a penis sticking out. To put this in perspective, I basically got off at a rate of maybe once every 3 weeks, and that didn't change when we started dating (have been informed by friends that I should have been more horny and be getting off more given the fact I'd just started dating someone).
Things were, as they still are, going great with all aspects of our relationship. We were enjoying heavily making out round secluded corners of the school, and all normal teenage stuff, and as things progressed further, I started getting him off.
Now, my boyfriend, has always been a very competitive guy, and just can't accept defeat, and I, due to several reasons, have quite large self-esteem issues. So at this point, things naturally started going a bit downhill.
He'd try touch me, and get me off (very goal orientated person, hadn't realised at this point that sex was more than just orgasm, blaming porn for this), and get quite upset with himself after 5-10mins of trying. I'm lying there, trying my hardest, having no idea why it doesn't feel the way it does when I do it, trying to offer occasional suggestions which he'd get upset at. Spent almost everytime we had some form of sex consoling him and calming him down afterwards. He sounds like a dick at this point, but I've honestly forgiven him for everything, as prefaced before, we were eachothers firsts, and I can guess how it can become a frustrating thing after you've tried for the umpteenth time and still can't get your girl to orgasm, and we had an excellent relationship outside this.
Then comes lockdown, he's getting off like, 20 times a day (yes, a problem, yes, we delt with it quickly), missing me and sex, and I'm just feeling incredibly inferior and like I can't keep up at all (after all, aren't women meant to be able to come more times per men? At least my thoughts during the time), super low self esteem, every time we'd clandenstinely see eachother, I'd just focus all my attention to him in an effort to sate him a little, and not let him anywhere near me in terms of pleasure, worrying about him getting upset and annoyed and me feeling worse.
As follows, losing my virginity was pretty much an accident, I gave him permission to finger me, he misunderstood and thought I'd let him fuck me, and the rest is history.
Spent that entire summer in a horrible sex spiral, of which he was completely oblivious, and then the straw that broke the camels back was when he was fingering me (actually, something he did really well, only way he could touch me and give me pleasure, did it quite rarely though), and then proceeded to start putting a finger in my arse as well - something I'd expressly told him it was off limits, and never wanted him to do (just don't like it, haven't had any previous bad experiences, but was a hard no for me). I got up without a word, and went home.
Next few weeks of him (finally), understand what he did was wrong, me explaining how I felt throughout our entire relationship so far in terms of sex, him clearing up his act, promising to be better (stopping getting off so often...). I finally decided to give it another go after a few weeks and we took things really slowly from there.
------------------------------------------------------
He still struggled to make me come, but at least was very gentle about it, constantly asked for tips for improvement, constantly researching and trying out new things, was incredibly gentle towards me and sex in general, and always seemed eager to give me pleasure first, himself later. Took me another year, but, finally got me to orgasm, and it was a massive weight off both our shoulders.
However...
I feel like this whole experience really scarred me. 3.5 years down the line, I still don't want him to touch me. I shy away from all forms of sex, and he asks all the time to pleasure me, touch me. I ask what he wants and he only ever replies with that he wants to give me pleasure, and I just don't want to let him. My inhibitions only drop away when I get really aroused (ie, quite close to orgasm at this point), and straight after orgasm (guess I'm still high on floaty hormones), at which point I love him touching me etc. I do get some pleasure from pleasuring him/him being in me but I can't come from that.
I also feel that, being a female, I can never really 'tell' if I'm aroused. Would love to here other womens perspectives on this. I feel like men have it some much easier with the pointy thing. He always tries so hard to kiss me, caress me etc, and I often find my thoughts wondering and wanting to do something else (like I said, I only get into sex when I'm fairly near orgasm). I should put here that I'm really good at turning him on- can get him from 0-ready in about 15-20seconds, but then again he has a very high libido (feverently wants sex just an hour or 2 after we've had sex, he tones it down a lot and I think hopes I don't notice but I do)
Some people have suggested I'm asexual, but I disagree. I fairly enjoy getting off, and we do sometimes have great sex. Usually the great sex stems from something that means we really shouldn't be having sex (eg, we've had an argument, and I've asked for a few days to calm down), I feel like I can't stop finding him sexy then, and trying to turn him on and drive him wild, and then, ofc we end up having some form of sex, keep saying we'll stop, but we don't end up stopping till we've both come - I feel like the lack of weight of expectation for me really helps in these scenarios.
I just want everything to stop and find some way to actually enjoy sex. I'm so desperate that I've even started dreaming that I find some magical way to cure me. We're getting married in September, and I just can't accept the fact that we haven't delt with this yet, even though it's been such a long time.
We're both really demoralised by this, and we've tried absolutely everything (sans sex therapy, which we've gotten in contact with someone about). He's just so so eager to help and give me pleasure and I just want to go away and I just feel very disgusting throughout it all. I've gotten to the point where I want to cry at any mention of sex and want to avoid it at all costs, and he's getting more and more depressed at everything, hates himself for what happened right at the start, and is slowly losing the will for sex, knowing it'll just end up badly.
We're reaching the endpoint in this. We both love each other very much, and it hurts we still can't get this right.
What should we do?
TL;DR: Boyfriend struggled to make me come, and made me feel bad about it without meaning to, internalised it and despite being in a much better place sexually now, I can never accept any pleasure from my boyfriend, and we're both getting very upset over this now. It's been almost 4 years now. What should we do?
submitted by Ill_Kaleidoscope_443 to sex [link] [comments]
Lets start at the begining of everything. I'll label each section so you can skip, as I'm sure this will be a long post. There's a TL;DR at the end.
------------------------------PREFACE---------------------------------
Don't know if this matters for anything, but I'll put here that he started getting off aged 9/10, and was about as sexed up as a 16 year old guy is at this point in our relationship. And I had only just started getting off at 15, and have never had a good connetion between arousal and getting off. I guess it's a lot easier to ignore when you don't have a penis sticking out. To put this in perspective, I basically got off at a rate of maybe once every 3 weeks, and that didn't change when we started dating (have been informed by friends that I should have been more horny and be getting off more given the fact I'd just started dating someone).
Things were, as they still are, going great with all aspects of our relationship. We were enjoying heavily making out round secluded corners of the school, and all normal teenage stuff, and as things progressed further, I started getting him off.
Now, my boyfriend, has always been a very competitive guy, and just can't accept defeat, and I, due to several reasons, have quite large self-esteem issues. So at this point, things naturally started going a bit downhill.
He'd try touch me, and get me off (very goal orientated person, hadn't realised at this point that sex was more than just orgasm, blaming porn for this), and get quite upset with himself after 5-10mins of trying. I'm lying there, trying my hardest, having no idea why it doesn't feel the way it does when I do it, trying to offer occasional suggestions which he'd get upset at. Spent almost everytime we had some form of sex consoling him and calming him down afterwards. He sounds like a dick at this point, but I've honestly forgiven him for everything, as prefaced before, we were eachothers firsts, and I can guess how it can become a frustrating thing after you've tried for the umpteenth time and still can't get your girl to orgasm, and we had an excellent relationship outside this.
Then comes lockdown, he's getting off like, 20 times a day (yes, a problem, yes, we delt with it quickly), missing me and sex, and I'm just feeling incredibly inferior and like I can't keep up at all (after all, aren't women meant to be able to come more times per men? At least my thoughts during the time), super low self esteem, every time we'd clandenstinely see eachother, I'd just focus all my attention to him in an effort to sate him a little, and not let him anywhere near me in terms of pleasure, worrying about him getting upset and annoyed and me feeling worse.
As follows, losing my virginity was pretty much an accident, I gave him permission to finger me, he misunderstood and thought I'd let him fuck me, and the rest is history.
Spent that entire summer in a horrible sex spiral, of which he was completely oblivious, and then the straw that broke the camels back was when he was fingering me (actually, something he did really well, only way he could touch me and give me pleasure, did it quite rarely though), and then proceeded to start putting a finger in my arse as well - something I'd expressly told him it was off limits, and never wanted him to do (just don't like it, haven't had any previous bad experiences, but was a hard no for me). I got up without a word, and went home.
Next few weeks of him (finally), understand what he did was wrong, me explaining how I felt throughout our entire relationship so far in terms of sex, him clearing up his act, promising to be better (stopping getting off so often...). I finally decided to give it another go after a few weeks and we took things really slowly from there.
------------------------------------------------------
He still struggled to make me come, but at least was very gentle about it, constantly asked for tips for improvement, constantly researching and trying out new things, was incredibly gentle towards me and sex in general, and always seemed eager to give me pleasure first, himself later. Took me another year, but, finally got me to orgasm, and it was a massive weight off both our shoulders.
However...
I feel like this whole experience really scarred me. 3.5 years down the line, I still don't want him to touch me. I shy away from all forms of sex, and he asks all the time to pleasure me, touch me. I ask what he wants and he only ever replies with that he wants to give me pleasure, and I just don't want to let him. My inhibitions only drop away when I get really aroused (ie, quite close to orgasm at this point), and straight after orgasm (guess I'm still high on floaty hormones), at which point I love him touching me etc. I do get some pleasure from pleasuring him/him being in me but I can't come from that.
I also feel that, being a female, I can never really 'tell' if I'm aroused. Would love to here other womens perspectives on this. I feel like men have it some much easier with the pointy thing. He always tries so hard to kiss me, caress me etc, and I often find my thoughts wondering and wanting to do something else (like I said, I only get into sex when I'm fairly near orgasm). I should put here that I'm really good at turning him on- can get him from 0-ready in about 15-20seconds, but then again he has a very high libido (feverently wants sex just an hour or 2 after we've had sex, he tones it down a lot and I think hopes I don't notice but I do)
Some people have suggested I'm asexual, but I disagree. I fairly enjoy getting off, and we do sometimes have great sex. Usually the great sex stems from something that means we really shouldn't be having sex (eg, we've had an argument, and I've asked for a few days to calm down), I feel like I can't stop finding him sexy then, and trying to turn him on and drive him wild, and then, ofc we end up having some form of sex, keep saying we'll stop, but we don't end up stopping till we've both come - I feel like the lack of weight of expectation for me really helps in these scenarios.
I just want everything to stop and find some way to actually enjoy sex. I'm so desperate that I've even started dreaming that I find some magical way to cure me. We're getting married in September, and I just can't accept the fact that we haven't delt with this yet, even though it's been such a long time.
We're both really demoralised by this, and we've tried absolutely everything (sans sex therapy, which we've gotten in contact with someone about). He's just so so eager to help and give me pleasure and I just want to go away and I just feel very disgusting throughout it all. I've gotten to the point where I want to cry at any mention of sex and want to avoid it at all costs, and he's getting more and more depressed at everything, hates himself for what happened right at the start, and is slowly losing the will for sex, knowing it'll just end up badly.
We're reaching the endpoint in this. We both love each other very much, and it hurts we still can't get this right.
What should we do?
TL;DR: Boyfriend struggled to make me come, and made me feel bad about it without meaning to, internalised it and despite being in a much better place sexually now, I can never accept any pleasure from my boyfriend, and we're both getting very upset over this now. It's been almost 4 years now. What should we do?
2023.05.29 15:58 Ok-Role7109 fexofenadine got me DREAMING
i got hayfever so i be taking them telfast 180 but one night i was mad bored and had some bad hay fever decided to pop a few went to bed had mad dreams it was crazy. anybody else be popping them shits and just dreaming i be popping like 3 every night and always be having some fire dreams. is this finna affect my health tho??
submitted by Ok-Role7109 to HistamineIntolerance [link] [comments]
2023.05.29 15:50 Ethereal_Stars_7 Flight of the War Witch: Part 023: Patron of the Arts
Part 1 of the Evil That Lies Within arc begins.
[Previous] Part 022 [Next]
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/- - Flight of the War Witch - - \
\ =>>>>><0> 023 <0><<<<<= /
\ - - - Patron of the Arts - - - /
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Voice Log Entry number: 81-3, Timestamp: 02-15 (estimated (guesstimated)(aintgotacluestimated))
Bit into the -second- year here. Yeah. Still getting used to that. Think I am going to just start counting days as they pass here rather than doing the mental gymnastics needed to convert fifty hour days and two-hundred day seasons into Earth days and years. A 'season' here being about four-hundred and sixteen days long. Give or take a few days. Considering everything else on this world is artificial - I have a feeling the variance in the season timing is intentional and probably oscillates. Not enough pattern data yet to know for sure.
Still no handle on why time feels... compressed here? I have settled into a sleep schedule of about sixteen of the twenty-five hour night - and it feels like a restful eight hours. The dragon folk tend to sleep twenty hours. I use the extra time to practice with my magic sword. My MAGIC SWORD! yeaaaaaah!
This Grand Bazaar is so fun! It is like an enormous ren-fair if ren-fairs were into greeco-roman fashions. Speaking of. Baroness Clade was all ga-ga over some new dresses from the outer ring of the gathering. These were pretty interesting as the floor length skirts billowed out. This was pulled off by weaving the whole thing from wire mesh instead of chain-mail. Or used metal struts connected to a belt to give the garment shape. Just more example of how their textiles diverged from ours due to the radically different materials on hand. No mammals, no wool, a ridiculous abundance of metals. Oh yeah. And freaking magic.
I have to keep reminding myself that this is all on an enormous scale. It takes me about three hours to walk the outer ring. (oh-so much longer because we are window-shopping...) My walk speed is forty-eight kph. So yeah. Its big. And this thing lasts a ten-day. Though the tenth day is when alot of folk start packing up. Some far earlier if they sold out their wares quicker.
Found out what the wigs are made from. Dragon hair. Found a stall selling wigs and turns out dragons with nice hair use a hair growth spell to grow it out and harvest it regularly. Can not do it frequently. Something about needing time to replenish. But it is a business here for dragons who like other hair colors.
If you are willing to hang around a few days there are crafters and brewers who can whip up during the event some basic magic items. Mostly little widgets that do not do a whole lot. Or quick-craft stuff like arrows with basic targeting enhancement enchantments. Potions can be gotten in a day. I nabbed a few "Healing Potions" because they should work on my nominally organic parts. Least that was what I expected. Guess what? That's right. I'm WRONG! Kinda-sorta... Its Complex!!!
We swung around the Druid section of the magic ring at Ghinda's request and got the lowdown on the problems of fixing me up as it had apparently unbeknownst to me, been prying on her mind ever since we met. She would prod me now and then at the keep to do some 'tests', but never said what for?
This for...
She had been talking at length with one of the higher ups in the rankings of nature lovers. This guy looked ancient! Yet strong at the same time. My chest and veins felt a little tingly near him. Guessing that was the more plant based parts of me responding? In any case he was blood red and had these curly corkscrew horns like a ram. Rings everywhere! Fingers, horns, tail. Don't wanna know where else! And holding this staff that was like twenty meters tall! Wood. Like a whole tree. Topped with a turquoise orb and an, ahem, orbiting ring of, er, rings with different elements in the rings where a finger would go. Standard Earth, Air, Fire, Water. But between those were Magma, Smoke, Ice (how'd he get that even???), and Mud. Really impressive looking. The length of the staff was carved with arcane runes and banded in gold. Guy really liked his ring motif huh?
So first glance at me is that dismissive "Fuck off technology." attitude and I'm like "ooooh Imma gonna -show- him somethin!"
But then he does a double-take and starts to look at me funny. Like he is looking -through- me, inside me?
Then he starts to get excited.
Then really excited.
Then -oh fuck! What did I do this time?- excited.
Turns out he could clearly sense all the plant-life inside me comprising my life support systems. A fifteen meter tall enclosed micro-ecology. He was just ooohing and ahhing at the near perfect balance of my internal workins. And so an hour or more passed while I tried to explain in fantasy terms the incredible effort that went into the CyberDyne project and the botanist who made the breakthrough in sealed life support systems. They read it all as a neo-Druid creating a self sustaining eco-system. Something Druids of this world consider a work of art or a religious experience in a way. Due to how the whole world is in a way just that. Self contained and perpetual.
He was really interested in the mini forest that makes up my lungs. Probably because they are not of this world and at a guess are pinging his nature sense. He asked me if he could get a clipping. And I said "Not on the first date."
He got all purple in the face and then laughed and laughed.
So he confirmed that basic healing incantations like [Balm of Life] will kinda-sorta work on me. But due to my, ahem, Golem nature and my botanic parts, I'd get more oomph from a simple [Repair] incantation for my cybernetics and [Botanica's Blessing] for my plant based systems. A healing potion was going to do me little good then - and would be only a -third- as effective. argh! ah well. I can use it in the others in an emergency. Stuff makes triage look like leeches and poultices. hmph. Magic.
From all this I did though get some advice. Mainly to look up a Master of Alchemy to whip up some specialized healing draughts. Cost a bit more. But better than needing the magic equivalent of a Pit Crew to heal me up. Not like I intend to get perforated again. But with these Coalition jokers out there. I have a bad feeling I am going to be in the eye of the storm. Least they pointed me at someone here to talk to about that.
Noon will be dinner with the local nobility. The Baroness suggested I dress well so I guess I will be stowing the Regalia and going formal. Good thing packed the clothes for this. Kinda nervous. Aside from meeting the mayor of Dynamiton City, I have never really had to deal with the higher ups.
Forescout Valkyria signing out.
=----=====----=
Valkyria, with much assistance from Roscida, disengaged her Regalia and a few plates to slim down to a less aggressive profile. Then her ward helped her to get dressed and don her wig. Together they met up with Dasos and she resupplied more goggles to sell and for the morning the Gorgon swapped out with the Ki-rin girl so Dasos could do a little shopping herself.
Wandering the stalls and merchants she was updated on the sales of the goodies and stoning potions. "huh, more sold than I expected?"
Dasos nodded while munching on a glazed tyra leg as she walked beside the War Witch. "The Grand Bazaar is an opportune time to sell and spread word. And word is spreading."
She glanced sidelong at the Gorgon. "Feels good to be making a difference?"
This got an emphatic nodding. "Very much so. The look on peoples faces. Especially the expressions when learning the low cost. After thousands upon thousands of days we are not shunned and driven off."
"In time the cure will be found and you all can go back to living normal lives."
Dasos was keen to buy a new dress for herself after a lifetime of living in rags and whatever they could scrounge or steal. Well the metal equivalent of rags. Dragon clothing was very durable overall.
-<>-
As noon rolled around they saw the Gorgon back to her stall and Roscida joined Valkyria in meeting Baroness Clade at the castle gates. The structure was tremendous and some of the taller minarets reached high into the sky perhaps a quarter of a kilometer. The gate guards were armored and looked alot like silver versions of Valkyria. Though without the stiff wing covers. Each was armed with a huge halberd, a pole arm some twenty meters long with a spike pointing upwards, an axe head facing forward and a hook facing back.
Baroness Clade did the introductions and then they were escorted inside by an attendant and Valkyria got to gawk at the decorations, all on a cyclopean scale. Fifteen meter tall statuary adorned some halls. tapestries and stained glass windows were common and there were quite a few paintings. The elder Clade encouraged the guide to elaborate on some of the depictions.
"Here is show the mounted battle of the Phantom Swamps some two-hundred thousand days past."
The white and gold cyborg ran a quick calculation and figured that to be over a thousand years ago by Earth time. "So you even domesticated a thunder lizard?" She was looking at the huge diplodocus that was being ridden like an elephant and was about as large.
"The diplo in the center? Yes. They are native to the great swamps of the lowlands. A few daring souls have trained them for war. But they are difficult to manage. Bron are even harder to tame and for reasons unknown once every few seasons a bull will ascend the plateaus and go on a rampage until either driven off or put down." So explained the attendant.
Valkyria studied this for a time, taking into account the gigantic scale of this battle depicted. Spells were flying, knights with glowing weapons were cleaving into each-other, and a pair of trebuchets mounted on the diplodocus were lobbing stones at some sort wall of earth some mage had called up. The painting had tiny little details in it down to links in armor and little fine inscriptions on weapons and standards. "Who are they fighting? Looks formidable? Are those a pair of Golems? I see hinged joints?" she questioned.
"Indeed m'lady. Ta Matia tis Mageías, The Eyes of Vraja, were a mageocrocy that formed formed around a renowned vraja college of Solomonari to the west between here and the Ki-rin lands. They grew in power and then began expanding. They employed Golems and Elementals in large numbers and were a force to be reckoned with. The painting depicts the final battle on the borders of what would become the Principalities." pointed out the attendant.
"So what became of them?"
Baroness Clade answered that. "Everyone turning against them and internal fraction caused the eventual collapse as they suffered a series of defeats after some initial victories. A faction within the Eye was against violence and secretly aided the unified people opposing the expansion and so inside and out the cracks formed. Finally they could take no more and sued for peace when they realized the horrible loss of knowledge that was happening as one after another fell. They reorganized and police themselves rigorously now as a true college of study and wisdom. That was all some half a million days ago."
The War Witch gawked as she did some calculations. Over two-thousand eight-hundred Earth years ago. "And it is still going today?"
A nod from the elder dragoness. "Indeed. I myself studied there for six-thousand days and graduated well in my class."
Valkyria did not comment on needing to go to magic school for thirty-five years before getting out was a bit mind blowing. "Seems all that study payed off!"
"Twas not that long. Curricula has advanced since those early days. Back then one was expected to study for a full ten-thousand says!" the Solomanari waved it off as if decades meant little in the greater scheme.
This got the cybernetic human in a draconic looking variable frame to wondering just how long these people lived. Something she would have to ask later. She had some clues already based on the ages of Roscida and the younger Clade, which reminded her. "So will Clade and the Baron be arriving in two days?"
"Correct. My husband and daughter wish to do some shopping while the event is close."
After that they met up with Princess Lykofos. This woman was tall and a rich royal purple with blue scale trim. She was dressed in an ebony gown set with hundreds of diamonds so it looked like a starry night twinkling as she moved. Her long hair was a night blue with a streak of lighter blue like a comet trailing down one side. "Ahh. So this is the mysterious stranger I have heard so much about in so short a span?" she addressed the War Witch with a pleasant rumbly voice.
"That is probably me if it is something weird yea, M'lady." she replied.
The Princess' smile grew. "I would not call selflessly aiding the people of the land weird Lady Valkyria. You have performed a deed long thought impossible in bringing back to us our brethren thought forever lost. That alone is worthy of high praise. I also hear you were instrumental in completing my cousin's elemental collection, yes?"
Valkyria looked from one to the other questioningly. "Cousin? So you two are related?"
Baroness and Princess shared a laugh. "Oh indeed. Though Procidens here takes more after her seaside blood while I take more after our inland kin." she then walked along with the group and plied the cybernetic visitor with questions. "I observed you on the streets yesterday. But you were much bulkier and not dressed?"
"Yes. I removed my Regalia as it is cumbersome for formal affairs."
That got a smile from the Princess. "We have lost a few chairs to knights insisting on attending in full dress armor. So your mercy upon my furniture is appreciated!" Glancing at the figure of the strange being she asked. "I understand that you are lost and far from home, with no hope of ever returning. Let me assure you on behalf of the Principalities of the Comet as a Princess of my realm that you are more than welcome in our lands. I wish only that you might have seen us in less troubling times..."
"I would like to think the same if one of you ever ended up in my world. And sadly I am no stranger to troubling times back home. It is how I became as you see me now." So replied the War Witch in thanks to her gracious benefactors. Then she was treated to a lavish dinner and various deserts afterwards. The main course were various soups, some meat stock and some vegetable, all with tyra egg mixed in like a sort of egg-drop soup. Then there were roast uta in some sort of glaze and seasoning with no Earth equivalent. It was faintly sweet. A rarity for dragon cuisine she had learned over the course of her stay. Sugar producing plants were rare in the qualities needed to make it even remotely viable. So she guessed what she was tasting was probably honey.
This got her musing as to what sorts of bugs were in the environment. But she had thus far held off on that question. She certainly had not seen any other than a little flitting thing she guessed was a dragonfly the size of an Earth eagle. A speck at her scale; and butterflies, or the prehistoric equivalents of, with bright single colors in stripes rather than patterns. The wing edges were flat rather than rounded.
As usual she got some amusement from the reactions to her eating. "So how bad has the Coalition been in the last season? I hear the realms bordering on the Coalition have had a few incursions. But nothing big since that ambush on Clade?"
Princess Lykofos nodded contemplatively. "Not officially no. But there have been two attacks deeper into the Principalities that were not made public."
"To keep the enemy guessing what happened to the squads?"
"Correct. Your case was impossible to keep quiet on. That and it was agreed that the nature of your advent would perplex and confound the Coalition well and good. The various Princes and Princesses have been quietly deflecting inquiries about you ever since. And keeping abreast of who is asking these questions. We have designated you a War Witch, though it is rather obvious your nature and incantations function outside the norm. Obvious to those of us with a broader knowledge of the mystic arts."
Valkyria nodded between tossing trees dipped in some manner of broccoli-esque sauce into her maw and munching. "Figured that would be the case really. Trying to mesh what I can do with what you people can had been a challenge to put it mildly." she admitted.
"We appreciate the effort on out behalf. Were I pressed to classify you, based on the information thus far gathered, I would probably lean to that of the Fusillade. An as yet rare outgrowth of Artifice focused on long range strikes. Alchemists are another calling that is much better known due to it's utility." so described the Princess.
"I will stick to War Witch for now to keep the enemy guessing" so smiled slyly said War Witch while taking a bite from a uta drumstick. After that she tried some pie which was remotely similar in flavor to a lemon meringue pie. Made from a thick rinded fruit called a citron. They were about the size of grapes to her and looked like yellow fragment grenades. The actual usable part was the size of a pea inside. "Somewhere on Earth an agriculturist is having fits over the quantities needed to eat round here." she chuckled. Apparently the rinds were fed to styra as they loved it.
After dinner the party retreated to sealed chambers with guards posted round. The Princess sat down in a comfy looking chair and her demeanor got notably more serious. "Now for the more pressing matter we invited you to visit today. There has been a death at the Grand Bazaar."
Baroness Clade looked concerned. "Another?"
Princess Lykofos nodded solemnly. "Another inventor of enchanted items."
This seemed to be an ongoing thing so the white and gold dragoness asked. "I take it that this is one of several? How many?"
"Six thus far. All crafters working on some new wonder. All found dead of what appear to be natural causes. But their inventions missing and soon to show up in Coalition hands. This can not be coincidence. We have tried communing with the spirits of the dead. But to date none have ever seen their slayer and thusly can not place name to this mysterious spy in our midst. We would like to ask if you can assist us in any way with this mystery. Perhaps someone outside the problem can uncover a clue we are missing?" The Princess then laid out the six assumed murders so far.
"The first was several seasons ago. About one-thousand days. An inventor working on a repeating ballistia was found dead in his home and the prototype missing. less than a season later the Coalition is being armed with a new repeating ballistia. The shape is different. But the function and timing are suspect." she sighed and then continued. "Next was a craftsman who was working to produce a more refined healing draught. Found dead and the formula gone. We suspect the Coalition is now issuing it to their soldiers. Third was a friend of mine that I had patroned for years. She was working on a new armor enchantment for the Lightning Knights. Found hanged in her bedroom. Apparent suicide. I -know- better. Tellingly. We questioned her spirit and she remembered nothing of that and was as perplexed as we were. This invention has not yet surfaced in the Coalition to our knowledge. The next three have each coincided with a Grand Bazaar and yesterday we found another crafter dead. No vraja residue and incantations to detect poisons showed nothing. His creation is missing."
"Is the body still on hand?" asked the War Witch.
"Yes. Though we checked thoroughly." replied the Princess. "Also the Ruling Prince sent us an investigator who has been following the case since the second occurrence. He is here now. We wished to speak to you alone before bringing them in."
"If vraja showed no traces then we have to think outside the box. And working with a professional would be a boon I bet. They know vraja?"
The purple and blue dragoness bowed her head and so they retreated to the castles equivalent of a morgue. "Yes they are a practitioner of the arts. "We checked for signs of covert violence. Assassination is rare, but not unheard uf in some less reputable kingdoms."
Here she was introduced to a male red dragon with black scale trim. He looked curiously at Valkyria as she looked over the body laid out on a stone slab pending last rites or other arrangements. "M'lady. I was not expecting you to come down so late." he deferred to the Princess.
Valkyria took some samples and ran some basic tests with her onboard analysis systems. These were not medical grade. But she took some readings anyhow just in case something showed up. "No foreign elements in the blood. But there is an elevated carbon trade in the lungs. hmmmmm." She redid her tests and focused them as an idea began to percolate to the fore. "Has anyone tried contacting the spirit since you have that option?"
"Not yet. It is a taxing incantation and requires five special candles to perform. We have some in stock but supply is limited and the dead tend not to answer exactly coherently. And you can not use the incantation on a spirit again till many days have passed." so explained the red dragon.
"Got it. Makes sense then. Lets see. Here's the results on the test and... ah-hah. Well I can save you some candles."
"Oh?" Both the Princess and the Baroness asked as one.
"Exotic tallow fume traces in the lungs. Someone used that communicate with the dead incantation ahead of you. Maybe to prevent you from finding out something? Or just waste limited resources?" explained the mechanical visitor.
The investigator nodded thoughtfully. "Though that does not explain the lack of clues as to cause of death?"
"Right. But we know from this that the spy is versed in the arts and is using it to cover their tracks. huh. Question. Would an incantation to cure poison work on a corpse? And would it leave any traces of vraja?" she asked thoughtfully.
"A [Counter Poison] incantation would leave faint traces of vraja in the system."
"Ok. Are there any incantations that mask vraja presence?" she followed up.
This surprised the gathered practitioners of the art. "Why no? How would that even work? To use vraja to conceal vraja. That would leave traces itself."
"Would it though?" mused the cyborg. Then she waved it off. "Just a thought. Was there any vraja trace found on the one that hung herself?"
"Why... no there was not?" and a dawning horror of realization shone in the Princess' eyes. "You mean..."
The War Witch looked down at the cadaver and then to those gathered.
"Yeah. Your spy is an inventor too."
<==--------===-=-===--------==>
submitted by Ethereal_Stars_7 to HFY [link] [comments]
[Previous] Part 022 [Next]
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/- - Flight of the War Witch - - \
\ =>>>>><0> 023 <0><<<<<= /
\ - - - Patron of the Arts - - - /
=----=====----=
Voice Log Entry number: 81-3, Timestamp: 02-15 (estimated (guesstimated)(aintgotacluestimated))
Bit into the -second- year here. Yeah. Still getting used to that. Think I am going to just start counting days as they pass here rather than doing the mental gymnastics needed to convert fifty hour days and two-hundred day seasons into Earth days and years. A 'season' here being about four-hundred and sixteen days long. Give or take a few days. Considering everything else on this world is artificial - I have a feeling the variance in the season timing is intentional and probably oscillates. Not enough pattern data yet to know for sure.
Still no handle on why time feels... compressed here? I have settled into a sleep schedule of about sixteen of the twenty-five hour night - and it feels like a restful eight hours. The dragon folk tend to sleep twenty hours. I use the extra time to practice with my magic sword. My MAGIC SWORD! yeaaaaaah!
This Grand Bazaar is so fun! It is like an enormous ren-fair if ren-fairs were into greeco-roman fashions. Speaking of. Baroness Clade was all ga-ga over some new dresses from the outer ring of the gathering. These were pretty interesting as the floor length skirts billowed out. This was pulled off by weaving the whole thing from wire mesh instead of chain-mail. Or used metal struts connected to a belt to give the garment shape. Just more example of how their textiles diverged from ours due to the radically different materials on hand. No mammals, no wool, a ridiculous abundance of metals. Oh yeah. And freaking magic.
I have to keep reminding myself that this is all on an enormous scale. It takes me about three hours to walk the outer ring. (oh-so much longer because we are window-shopping...) My walk speed is forty-eight kph. So yeah. Its big. And this thing lasts a ten-day. Though the tenth day is when alot of folk start packing up. Some far earlier if they sold out their wares quicker.
Found out what the wigs are made from. Dragon hair. Found a stall selling wigs and turns out dragons with nice hair use a hair growth spell to grow it out and harvest it regularly. Can not do it frequently. Something about needing time to replenish. But it is a business here for dragons who like other hair colors.
If you are willing to hang around a few days there are crafters and brewers who can whip up during the event some basic magic items. Mostly little widgets that do not do a whole lot. Or quick-craft stuff like arrows with basic targeting enhancement enchantments. Potions can be gotten in a day. I nabbed a few "Healing Potions" because they should work on my nominally organic parts. Least that was what I expected. Guess what? That's right. I'm WRONG! Kinda-sorta... Its Complex!!!
We swung around the Druid section of the magic ring at Ghinda's request and got the lowdown on the problems of fixing me up as it had apparently unbeknownst to me, been prying on her mind ever since we met. She would prod me now and then at the keep to do some 'tests', but never said what for?
This for...
She had been talking at length with one of the higher ups in the rankings of nature lovers. This guy looked ancient! Yet strong at the same time. My chest and veins felt a little tingly near him. Guessing that was the more plant based parts of me responding? In any case he was blood red and had these curly corkscrew horns like a ram. Rings everywhere! Fingers, horns, tail. Don't wanna know where else! And holding this staff that was like twenty meters tall! Wood. Like a whole tree. Topped with a turquoise orb and an, ahem, orbiting ring of, er, rings with different elements in the rings where a finger would go. Standard Earth, Air, Fire, Water. But between those were Magma, Smoke, Ice (how'd he get that even???), and Mud. Really impressive looking. The length of the staff was carved with arcane runes and banded in gold. Guy really liked his ring motif huh?
So first glance at me is that dismissive "Fuck off technology." attitude and I'm like "ooooh Imma gonna -show- him somethin!"
But then he does a double-take and starts to look at me funny. Like he is looking -through- me, inside me?
Then he starts to get excited.
Then really excited.
Then -oh fuck! What did I do this time?- excited.
Turns out he could clearly sense all the plant-life inside me comprising my life support systems. A fifteen meter tall enclosed micro-ecology. He was just ooohing and ahhing at the near perfect balance of my internal workins. And so an hour or more passed while I tried to explain in fantasy terms the incredible effort that went into the CyberDyne project and the botanist who made the breakthrough in sealed life support systems. They read it all as a neo-Druid creating a self sustaining eco-system. Something Druids of this world consider a work of art or a religious experience in a way. Due to how the whole world is in a way just that. Self contained and perpetual.
He was really interested in the mini forest that makes up my lungs. Probably because they are not of this world and at a guess are pinging his nature sense. He asked me if he could get a clipping. And I said "Not on the first date."
He got all purple in the face and then laughed and laughed.
So he confirmed that basic healing incantations like [Balm of Life] will kinda-sorta work on me. But due to my, ahem, Golem nature and my botanic parts, I'd get more oomph from a simple [Repair] incantation for my cybernetics and [Botanica's Blessing] for my plant based systems. A healing potion was going to do me little good then - and would be only a -third- as effective. argh! ah well. I can use it in the others in an emergency. Stuff makes triage look like leeches and poultices. hmph. Magic.
From all this I did though get some advice. Mainly to look up a Master of Alchemy to whip up some specialized healing draughts. Cost a bit more. But better than needing the magic equivalent of a Pit Crew to heal me up. Not like I intend to get perforated again. But with these Coalition jokers out there. I have a bad feeling I am going to be in the eye of the storm. Least they pointed me at someone here to talk to about that.
Noon will be dinner with the local nobility. The Baroness suggested I dress well so I guess I will be stowing the Regalia and going formal. Good thing packed the clothes for this. Kinda nervous. Aside from meeting the mayor of Dynamiton City, I have never really had to deal with the higher ups.
Forescout Valkyria signing out.
=----=====----=
Valkyria, with much assistance from Roscida, disengaged her Regalia and a few plates to slim down to a less aggressive profile. Then her ward helped her to get dressed and don her wig. Together they met up with Dasos and she resupplied more goggles to sell and for the morning the Gorgon swapped out with the Ki-rin girl so Dasos could do a little shopping herself.
Wandering the stalls and merchants she was updated on the sales of the goodies and stoning potions. "huh, more sold than I expected?"
Dasos nodded while munching on a glazed tyra leg as she walked beside the War Witch. "The Grand Bazaar is an opportune time to sell and spread word. And word is spreading."
She glanced sidelong at the Gorgon. "Feels good to be making a difference?"
This got an emphatic nodding. "Very much so. The look on peoples faces. Especially the expressions when learning the low cost. After thousands upon thousands of days we are not shunned and driven off."
"In time the cure will be found and you all can go back to living normal lives."
Dasos was keen to buy a new dress for herself after a lifetime of living in rags and whatever they could scrounge or steal. Well the metal equivalent of rags. Dragon clothing was very durable overall.
-<>-
As noon rolled around they saw the Gorgon back to her stall and Roscida joined Valkyria in meeting Baroness Clade at the castle gates. The structure was tremendous and some of the taller minarets reached high into the sky perhaps a quarter of a kilometer. The gate guards were armored and looked alot like silver versions of Valkyria. Though without the stiff wing covers. Each was armed with a huge halberd, a pole arm some twenty meters long with a spike pointing upwards, an axe head facing forward and a hook facing back.
Baroness Clade did the introductions and then they were escorted inside by an attendant and Valkyria got to gawk at the decorations, all on a cyclopean scale. Fifteen meter tall statuary adorned some halls. tapestries and stained glass windows were common and there were quite a few paintings. The elder Clade encouraged the guide to elaborate on some of the depictions.
"Here is show the mounted battle of the Phantom Swamps some two-hundred thousand days past."
The white and gold cyborg ran a quick calculation and figured that to be over a thousand years ago by Earth time. "So you even domesticated a thunder lizard?" She was looking at the huge diplodocus that was being ridden like an elephant and was about as large.
"The diplo in the center? Yes. They are native to the great swamps of the lowlands. A few daring souls have trained them for war. But they are difficult to manage. Bron are even harder to tame and for reasons unknown once every few seasons a bull will ascend the plateaus and go on a rampage until either driven off or put down." So explained the attendant.
Valkyria studied this for a time, taking into account the gigantic scale of this battle depicted. Spells were flying, knights with glowing weapons were cleaving into each-other, and a pair of trebuchets mounted on the diplodocus were lobbing stones at some sort wall of earth some mage had called up. The painting had tiny little details in it down to links in armor and little fine inscriptions on weapons and standards. "Who are they fighting? Looks formidable? Are those a pair of Golems? I see hinged joints?" she questioned.
"Indeed m'lady. Ta Matia tis Mageías, The Eyes of Vraja, were a mageocrocy that formed formed around a renowned vraja college of Solomonari to the west between here and the Ki-rin lands. They grew in power and then began expanding. They employed Golems and Elementals in large numbers and were a force to be reckoned with. The painting depicts the final battle on the borders of what would become the Principalities." pointed out the attendant.
"So what became of them?"
Baroness Clade answered that. "Everyone turning against them and internal fraction caused the eventual collapse as they suffered a series of defeats after some initial victories. A faction within the Eye was against violence and secretly aided the unified people opposing the expansion and so inside and out the cracks formed. Finally they could take no more and sued for peace when they realized the horrible loss of knowledge that was happening as one after another fell. They reorganized and police themselves rigorously now as a true college of study and wisdom. That was all some half a million days ago."
The War Witch gawked as she did some calculations. Over two-thousand eight-hundred Earth years ago. "And it is still going today?"
A nod from the elder dragoness. "Indeed. I myself studied there for six-thousand days and graduated well in my class."
Valkyria did not comment on needing to go to magic school for thirty-five years before getting out was a bit mind blowing. "Seems all that study payed off!"
"Twas not that long. Curricula has advanced since those early days. Back then one was expected to study for a full ten-thousand says!" the Solomanari waved it off as if decades meant little in the greater scheme.
This got the cybernetic human in a draconic looking variable frame to wondering just how long these people lived. Something she would have to ask later. She had some clues already based on the ages of Roscida and the younger Clade, which reminded her. "So will Clade and the Baron be arriving in two days?"
"Correct. My husband and daughter wish to do some shopping while the event is close."
After that they met up with Princess Lykofos. This woman was tall and a rich royal purple with blue scale trim. She was dressed in an ebony gown set with hundreds of diamonds so it looked like a starry night twinkling as she moved. Her long hair was a night blue with a streak of lighter blue like a comet trailing down one side. "Ahh. So this is the mysterious stranger I have heard so much about in so short a span?" she addressed the War Witch with a pleasant rumbly voice.
"That is probably me if it is something weird yea, M'lady." she replied.
The Princess' smile grew. "I would not call selflessly aiding the people of the land weird Lady Valkyria. You have performed a deed long thought impossible in bringing back to us our brethren thought forever lost. That alone is worthy of high praise. I also hear you were instrumental in completing my cousin's elemental collection, yes?"
Valkyria looked from one to the other questioningly. "Cousin? So you two are related?"
Baroness and Princess shared a laugh. "Oh indeed. Though Procidens here takes more after her seaside blood while I take more after our inland kin." she then walked along with the group and plied the cybernetic visitor with questions. "I observed you on the streets yesterday. But you were much bulkier and not dressed?"
"Yes. I removed my Regalia as it is cumbersome for formal affairs."
That got a smile from the Princess. "We have lost a few chairs to knights insisting on attending in full dress armor. So your mercy upon my furniture is appreciated!" Glancing at the figure of the strange being she asked. "I understand that you are lost and far from home, with no hope of ever returning. Let me assure you on behalf of the Principalities of the Comet as a Princess of my realm that you are more than welcome in our lands. I wish only that you might have seen us in less troubling times..."
"I would like to think the same if one of you ever ended up in my world. And sadly I am no stranger to troubling times back home. It is how I became as you see me now." So replied the War Witch in thanks to her gracious benefactors. Then she was treated to a lavish dinner and various deserts afterwards. The main course were various soups, some meat stock and some vegetable, all with tyra egg mixed in like a sort of egg-drop soup. Then there were roast uta in some sort of glaze and seasoning with no Earth equivalent. It was faintly sweet. A rarity for dragon cuisine she had learned over the course of her stay. Sugar producing plants were rare in the qualities needed to make it even remotely viable. So she guessed what she was tasting was probably honey.
This got her musing as to what sorts of bugs were in the environment. But she had thus far held off on that question. She certainly had not seen any other than a little flitting thing she guessed was a dragonfly the size of an Earth eagle. A speck at her scale; and butterflies, or the prehistoric equivalents of, with bright single colors in stripes rather than patterns. The wing edges were flat rather than rounded.
As usual she got some amusement from the reactions to her eating. "So how bad has the Coalition been in the last season? I hear the realms bordering on the Coalition have had a few incursions. But nothing big since that ambush on Clade?"
Princess Lykofos nodded contemplatively. "Not officially no. But there have been two attacks deeper into the Principalities that were not made public."
"To keep the enemy guessing what happened to the squads?"
"Correct. Your case was impossible to keep quiet on. That and it was agreed that the nature of your advent would perplex and confound the Coalition well and good. The various Princes and Princesses have been quietly deflecting inquiries about you ever since. And keeping abreast of who is asking these questions. We have designated you a War Witch, though it is rather obvious your nature and incantations function outside the norm. Obvious to those of us with a broader knowledge of the mystic arts."
Valkyria nodded between tossing trees dipped in some manner of broccoli-esque sauce into her maw and munching. "Figured that would be the case really. Trying to mesh what I can do with what you people can had been a challenge to put it mildly." she admitted.
"We appreciate the effort on out behalf. Were I pressed to classify you, based on the information thus far gathered, I would probably lean to that of the Fusillade. An as yet rare outgrowth of Artifice focused on long range strikes. Alchemists are another calling that is much better known due to it's utility." so described the Princess.
"I will stick to War Witch for now to keep the enemy guessing" so smiled slyly said War Witch while taking a bite from a uta drumstick. After that she tried some pie which was remotely similar in flavor to a lemon meringue pie. Made from a thick rinded fruit called a citron. They were about the size of grapes to her and looked like yellow fragment grenades. The actual usable part was the size of a pea inside. "Somewhere on Earth an agriculturist is having fits over the quantities needed to eat round here." she chuckled. Apparently the rinds were fed to styra as they loved it.
After dinner the party retreated to sealed chambers with guards posted round. The Princess sat down in a comfy looking chair and her demeanor got notably more serious. "Now for the more pressing matter we invited you to visit today. There has been a death at the Grand Bazaar."
Baroness Clade looked concerned. "Another?"
Princess Lykofos nodded solemnly. "Another inventor of enchanted items."
This seemed to be an ongoing thing so the white and gold dragoness asked. "I take it that this is one of several? How many?"
"Six thus far. All crafters working on some new wonder. All found dead of what appear to be natural causes. But their inventions missing and soon to show up in Coalition hands. This can not be coincidence. We have tried communing with the spirits of the dead. But to date none have ever seen their slayer and thusly can not place name to this mysterious spy in our midst. We would like to ask if you can assist us in any way with this mystery. Perhaps someone outside the problem can uncover a clue we are missing?" The Princess then laid out the six assumed murders so far.
"The first was several seasons ago. About one-thousand days. An inventor working on a repeating ballistia was found dead in his home and the prototype missing. less than a season later the Coalition is being armed with a new repeating ballistia. The shape is different. But the function and timing are suspect." she sighed and then continued. "Next was a craftsman who was working to produce a more refined healing draught. Found dead and the formula gone. We suspect the Coalition is now issuing it to their soldiers. Third was a friend of mine that I had patroned for years. She was working on a new armor enchantment for the Lightning Knights. Found hanged in her bedroom. Apparent suicide. I -know- better. Tellingly. We questioned her spirit and she remembered nothing of that and was as perplexed as we were. This invention has not yet surfaced in the Coalition to our knowledge. The next three have each coincided with a Grand Bazaar and yesterday we found another crafter dead. No vraja residue and incantations to detect poisons showed nothing. His creation is missing."
"Is the body still on hand?" asked the War Witch.
"Yes. Though we checked thoroughly." replied the Princess. "Also the Ruling Prince sent us an investigator who has been following the case since the second occurrence. He is here now. We wished to speak to you alone before bringing them in."
"If vraja showed no traces then we have to think outside the box. And working with a professional would be a boon I bet. They know vraja?"
The purple and blue dragoness bowed her head and so they retreated to the castles equivalent of a morgue. "Yes they are a practitioner of the arts. "We checked for signs of covert violence. Assassination is rare, but not unheard uf in some less reputable kingdoms."
Here she was introduced to a male red dragon with black scale trim. He looked curiously at Valkyria as she looked over the body laid out on a stone slab pending last rites or other arrangements. "M'lady. I was not expecting you to come down so late." he deferred to the Princess.
Valkyria took some samples and ran some basic tests with her onboard analysis systems. These were not medical grade. But she took some readings anyhow just in case something showed up. "No foreign elements in the blood. But there is an elevated carbon trade in the lungs. hmmmmm." She redid her tests and focused them as an idea began to percolate to the fore. "Has anyone tried contacting the spirit since you have that option?"
"Not yet. It is a taxing incantation and requires five special candles to perform. We have some in stock but supply is limited and the dead tend not to answer exactly coherently. And you can not use the incantation on a spirit again till many days have passed." so explained the red dragon.
"Got it. Makes sense then. Lets see. Here's the results on the test and... ah-hah. Well I can save you some candles."
"Oh?" Both the Princess and the Baroness asked as one.
"Exotic tallow fume traces in the lungs. Someone used that communicate with the dead incantation ahead of you. Maybe to prevent you from finding out something? Or just waste limited resources?" explained the mechanical visitor.
The investigator nodded thoughtfully. "Though that does not explain the lack of clues as to cause of death?"
"Right. But we know from this that the spy is versed in the arts and is using it to cover their tracks. huh. Question. Would an incantation to cure poison work on a corpse? And would it leave any traces of vraja?" she asked thoughtfully.
"A [Counter Poison] incantation would leave faint traces of vraja in the system."
"Ok. Are there any incantations that mask vraja presence?" she followed up.
This surprised the gathered practitioners of the art. "Why no? How would that even work? To use vraja to conceal vraja. That would leave traces itself."
"Would it though?" mused the cyborg. Then she waved it off. "Just a thought. Was there any vraja trace found on the one that hung herself?"
"Why... no there was not?" and a dawning horror of realization shone in the Princess' eyes. "You mean..."
The War Witch looked down at the cadaver and then to those gathered.
"Yeah. Your spy is an inventor too."
<==--------===-=-===--------==>
2023.05.29 15:50 SHAIQUU Minecraft Stuttering after switching GPU [java]
Hello,
After switching my GPU from an RTX 3060ti to a Radeon Rx 6800, I started facing frequent and annoying stuttering in Minecraft. Hereby, the version and client seems to be irrelevant and even reinstalling has not helped at all.
What I have done so far:
Used DDU (only after I switched GPU, therefore attempted reinstalling Windows)
Reinstalling Windows, AMD Drivers (both GPU and Chipset)
Updating all outdated drivers on my PC, including my BIOS
BIOS-Reset
Allocating more or less ram to Minecraft
Enabling, Disabling V-Sync (In game V-Sync does not solve the problem, but improves stability insignificantly)
Disabling ULPS and CMS (I am not sure, if that's the right term)
Furthermore, I have not been able to detect any correlation between stuttering and drops in GPU usage.
All Benchmarks are fine.
What stroke my eye is that the Drops occur every x frames, as seen in the Video.
Computer Type: Desktop
GPU: Rx 6800 Aorus
CPU: RYZEN 5 5600x 6 Cores, 12 Threads
Motherboard: Gigabyte Aorus B450 Pro
BIOS Version: F64a
RAM: 16GB Klevv Bolt X 3600MHZ CL18
PSU: Corsair RM 650 GOLD FULLY MODULAR
Case: Corsair Carbide Spec Omega Glass
Operating System & Version: WINDOWS 11 PRO 22H2
GPU Drivers: Adrenalin - Version
Chipset Drivers: AMD B550 CHIPSET DRIVERS VERSION 23.5.1
Background Applications: DISCORD, Opera GX
https://reddit.com/link/13uvic1/video/zo5150jugt2b1/player
submitted by SHAIQUU to MinecraftHelp [link] [comments]
After switching my GPU from an RTX 3060ti to a Radeon Rx 6800, I started facing frequent and annoying stuttering in Minecraft. Hereby, the version and client seems to be irrelevant and even reinstalling has not helped at all.
What I have done so far:
Used DDU (only after I switched GPU, therefore attempted reinstalling Windows)
Reinstalling Windows, AMD Drivers (both GPU and Chipset)
Updating all outdated drivers on my PC, including my BIOS
BIOS-Reset
Allocating more or less ram to Minecraft
Enabling, Disabling V-Sync (In game V-Sync does not solve the problem, but improves stability insignificantly)
Disabling ULPS and CMS (I am not sure, if that's the right term)
Furthermore, I have not been able to detect any correlation between stuttering and drops in GPU usage.
All Benchmarks are fine.
What stroke my eye is that the Drops occur every x frames, as seen in the Video.
Computer Type: Desktop
GPU: Rx 6800 Aorus
CPU: RYZEN 5 5600x 6 Cores, 12 Threads
Motherboard: Gigabyte Aorus B450 Pro
BIOS Version: F64a
RAM: 16GB Klevv Bolt X 3600MHZ CL18
PSU: Corsair RM 650 GOLD FULLY MODULAR
Case: Corsair Carbide Spec Omega Glass
Operating System & Version: WINDOWS 11 PRO 22H2
GPU Drivers: Adrenalin - Version
Chipset Drivers: AMD B550 CHIPSET DRIVERS VERSION 23.5.1
Background Applications: DISCORD, Opera GX
https://reddit.com/link/13uvic1/video/zo5150jugt2b1/player
2023.05.29 15:49 BDCRacing Thought provoking and strange
I really enjoyed piranesi, and im looking for other books that wander through a strange world. I enjoyed the flavor of fever dream with an unsettling underpinning. Anything you can recommend that has a similar atmosphere? I'm not picky on genre or format, I just need something to wrinkle the brain.
submitted by BDCRacing to suggestmeabook [link] [comments]
2023.05.29 15:38 SHAIQUU Stuttering in Minecraft after switching GPU
Hello,
After switching my GPU from an RTX 3060ti to a Radeon Rx 6800, I started facing frequent and annoying stuttering in Minecraft. Hereby, the version and client seems to be irrelevant and even reinstalling has not helped at all.
What I have done so far:
Used DDU (only after I switched GPU, therefore attempted reinstalling Windows)
Reinstalling Windows, AMD Drivers (both GPU and Chipset)
Updating all outdated drivers on my PC, including my BIOS
BIOS-Reset
Allocating more or less ram to Minecraft
Enabling, Disabling V-Sync (In game V-Sync does not solve the problem, but improves stability insignificantly)
Disabling ULPS and CMS (I am not sure, if that's the right term)
Furthermore, I have not been able to detect any correlation between stuttering and drops in GPU usage.
All Benchmarks are fine.
What stroke my eye is that the Drops occur every x frames, and I only have stutters if I move my mouse, or jump into water the very first time, as seen in the Video
Computer Type: Desktop
GPU: Rx 6800 Aorus
CPU: RYZEN 5 5600x 6 Cores, 12 Threads
Motherboard: Gigabyte Aorus B450 Pro
BIOS Version: F64a
RAM: 16GB Klevv Bolt X 3600MHZ CL18
PSU: Corsair RM 650 GOLD FULLY MODULAR
Case: Corsair Carbide Spec Omega Glass
Operating System & Version: WINDOWS 11 PRO 22H2
GPU Drivers: Adrenalin - Version
Chipset Drivers: AMD B550 CHIPSET DRIVERS VERSION 23.5.1
Background Applications: DISCORD, Opera GX
.
https://reddit.com/link/13uv7s4/video/pjsdlrtnbt2b1/player
submitted by SHAIQUU to AMDHelp [link] [comments]
After switching my GPU from an RTX 3060ti to a Radeon Rx 6800, I started facing frequent and annoying stuttering in Minecraft. Hereby, the version and client seems to be irrelevant and even reinstalling has not helped at all.
What I have done so far:
Used DDU (only after I switched GPU, therefore attempted reinstalling Windows)
Reinstalling Windows, AMD Drivers (both GPU and Chipset)
Updating all outdated drivers on my PC, including my BIOS
BIOS-Reset
Allocating more or less ram to Minecraft
Enabling, Disabling V-Sync (In game V-Sync does not solve the problem, but improves stability insignificantly)
Disabling ULPS and CMS (I am not sure, if that's the right term)
Furthermore, I have not been able to detect any correlation between stuttering and drops in GPU usage.
All Benchmarks are fine.
What stroke my eye is that the Drops occur every x frames, and I only have stutters if I move my mouse, or jump into water the very first time, as seen in the Video
Computer Type: Desktop
GPU: Rx 6800 Aorus
CPU: RYZEN 5 5600x 6 Cores, 12 Threads
Motherboard: Gigabyte Aorus B450 Pro
BIOS Version: F64a
RAM: 16GB Klevv Bolt X 3600MHZ CL18
PSU: Corsair RM 650 GOLD FULLY MODULAR
Case: Corsair Carbide Spec Omega Glass
Operating System & Version: WINDOWS 11 PRO 22H2
GPU Drivers: Adrenalin - Version
Chipset Drivers: AMD B550 CHIPSET DRIVERS VERSION 23.5.1
Background Applications: DISCORD, Opera GX
.
https://reddit.com/link/13uv7s4/video/pjsdlrtnbt2b1/player
2023.05.29 15:37 CommoditiesPleb EXPR due diligence data dump…
Express
Value- Market cap of $45m is 1/10th of intellectual property $400m
Market cap is 1/46th of $1.8b revenue
Peak market cap of $2.2b is 55x move from here. Pre Covid market cap of $400m is 10x move from here.
Inventory of $347 million could be purchased for $.12 cents on the dollar.
Partners- BlackRock, Barclays, Wells Fargo all investors
iShares, Vanguard, and Schwab ETF’s added shares.
WHP join venture invested $260m
WHP also jointly purchased Bonobos with Express for $75 million.
Launch of “style mentor” with Rachel Zoe
Forward looking prospects- Plans to turn Express from “store” to “brand”, ex. luxury Express glasses frames available at other retailers.
Increased online presence
Negatives- Shops in malls, malls are on the decline.
Share price in non compliance and will likely be a reverse split of 20:1
Behind the times with its lacking online presence and higher prices (against a competitor like Shein)
Closer nearly 100 stores over past two years, was that enough to shave costs?
Q1 revenue was $383m (down 15% yoy) and net profit was -$73m 😬
submitted by CommoditiesPleb to EXPR [link] [comments]
Value- Market cap of $45m is 1/10th of intellectual property $400m
Market cap is 1/46th of $1.8b revenue
Peak market cap of $2.2b is 55x move from here. Pre Covid market cap of $400m is 10x move from here.
Inventory of $347 million could be purchased for $.12 cents on the dollar.
Partners- BlackRock, Barclays, Wells Fargo all investors
iShares, Vanguard, and Schwab ETF’s added shares.
WHP join venture invested $260m
WHP also jointly purchased Bonobos with Express for $75 million.
Launch of “style mentor” with Rachel Zoe
Forward looking prospects- Plans to turn Express from “store” to “brand”, ex. luxury Express glasses frames available at other retailers.
Increased online presence
Negatives- Shops in malls, malls are on the decline.
Share price in non compliance and will likely be a reverse split of 20:1
Behind the times with its lacking online presence and higher prices (against a competitor like Shein)
Closer nearly 100 stores over past two years, was that enough to shave costs?
Q1 revenue was $383m (down 15% yoy) and net profit was -$73m 😬
2023.05.29 15:36 The-M-I-K-E Le 15 years in the dungeon has arrived
 | submitted by The-M-I-K-E to dogelore [link] [comments] |
2023.05.29 15:26 amalgamator Has Sam talked about dreams? Their purpose if any?
Sam tells us to “look for who is looking” and we will find nothing. However, in a depth psychology framing - there is a unconscious psyche that will “leak out” if we are not listening and living in accordance with it. If might talk to us in a dream. Of course the problem with the unconscious is that it is unconscious. I have been having some dreams that seem important.
Over time, Jung concluded that there was within each of us a deep resilience guided by some locus of knowing, independent of ego consciousness; a center that produces our dreams to correct us, symptoms to challenge us, and visions to inspire us. His was not an amateur’s trust in impulse of a captivation by psychological complex; it was a long, patient, humbling attendance upon the psyche, or soul, and its perspicacious permutations.
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Over time, Jung concluded that there was within each of us a deep resilience guided by some locus of knowing, independent of ego consciousness; a center that produces our dreams to correct us, symptoms to challenge us, and visions to inspire us. His was not an amateur’s trust in impulse of a captivation by psychological complex; it was a long, patient, humbling attendance upon the psyche, or soul, and its perspicacious permutations.