Leradny

Vulgarity? In MY Final Fantasy?

2009-12-25T02:44:03Z

OMG GUYS

IN THIS VIDEO, FANG CALLS SNOW AN IDIOT (I THINK) AND FLIPS HIM OFF

AND IT'S NOT IN THE ESRB RATING EITHER

HOLY SHIT

I DIDN'T EVEN HAVE TO PAUSE IT SO I DON'T KNOW HOW THE RATING PEOPLE MISSED IT BUT IT'S TOTALLY AWESOME

Edit: Okay, she's not flipping Snow off. But damn, did it look like she did!

Updates

2009-12-16T06:03:51Z

1. Oerba Yun Fang cosplay:
-Bead necklace (eh, click) is done and done. Her choker, though, is turning out to be EVEN. MORE. ANNOYING.
-Have made muslin/cardboard tests of her choli and her belt buckles. Starting on mockups of the boots now, and watching possible base sandals like a HAWK.
-It's weird that I'm so far on my cosplays, because I'm not even sure I'll be able to go to Fanime this year. I have rather less money to toss around, though if my sister gets her driver's license I guess we could just drive back and forth. It takes around 45 minutes, but we'll have been doing all sorts of energetic stuff all day and it would just suck for her.

3. Avant-garde theatre is really depressing. I enrolled in a college program that specializes in avant-garde. This does not bode well.

4. I'm beginning to think there is some connection between my happiness and the changing seasons.

5. Still afraid to look at my NaNo junk and sort it out.

6. STUPID COMPUTER ATE EOS' NEXT CHAPTER AGAIN AND NOW I WILL HAVE TO TYPE UP ALL FOUR-THOUSAND WORDS FOR THE THIRD FARGING TIME OH MY GOOOOOSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHH.

Speed Bumpified

2009-12-10T07:06:01Z

This conversation has been modified for length, humor, and accuracy of my memory

Me: Oh my gosh, belly button exposure! This thing is too short. *checks reference* Okay, so it's not too short.

Sister: That's good, right?

Me: NOOOOO. IT'S BAD BECAUSE NOW I CAN'T CHANGE IT. WAHHHHHH

Sister: I thought you loved Fang's outfit? You know, happy flailing and shrieking, "An FF character in a sari with black hair, a tan, and a Cockney/Aussie accent? JACKPOT!"

Me: Modesty--conflicting with--love of saris--and--awesome accents!

[Later...]

Brother: Hey, I'm going to Home Depot tomorrow. If you want your pole ends and junk you'll have to come with me since I can't read your writing. Or your diagrams.

Me: ARGH. I'll just have to get USED to baring my torso, I guess.

NaNoWriMo Day 30

2009-12-01T00:04:44Z

Okay, I finished with a little less than 37500 words.

More importantly, I have a new dream cosplay!

Her name is Oerba Yun Fang, but I like to think of her as Sexy Arabian Sari-Wearing Eighties Hair Rinoa.... WITH A COCKNEY ACCENT!!!!

Dialogue I thought up the moment I heard her voice and saw her name:

Snow: Sahz! Dude! We're getting another dude in the party!
Sazh: Really? What's his name?
Snow: FANG.
Sazh: Oh, feel that masculinity.
Snow: We can totally take him fishing and junk!
Sazh: ...Vanille kicks our asses at fishing.
Snow: I know, but this time she'll have another ass to kick. And maybe he'll be better than her! He has 'Oerba' in his name, so he must be from the same place, and know the same things--
Fang: *walks on* Who's this bloke you're talking about?
Sazh: Fang.
Fang: Fishing, eh? I heard tell Fang is brilliant at SPEAR-fishing. *twirls spear*
Snow: AWESOME. When's he gonna get here already?
Vanille: *walks on with Lightning* Oh! I didn't realize another Oerba was here. All right?
Fang: All right. *notices Lightning* And who's your sexy brother?
Sazh: *thinks she's talking to him* I like this chick!
Fang: Not you, Yank. The ginger bloke in a kilt! *points to Lightning* I like a man of few words.
Lightning: EXCUSE ME?
Fang: Oh, I'm sorry! The STRAWBERRY BLOND bloke in a kilt.
Lightning: I AM A WOMAN, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!
Fang: Well, you could've fooled me!
Lightning: IT'S ON!
Fang: BRING IT!
Lightning, Fang: *fight*
Sazh: Man! Now we're outnumbered!
Snow: And we still haven't met Fang.
Fang: *from off-stage* I'M Fang!
Sazh, Snow: Awwww!

NaNoWriMo Day 25

2009-11-26T05:23:06Z

My word count has been stunted due to hitting the proverbial wall, and also because I've been cleaning the house with religious fervor xD.

I wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving In Advance!

NaNoWriMo Day 13

2009-11-14T00:08:23Z

My goodness, I should have remembered that while I enjoy writing things by hand, I HATE TYPING IT UP AFTERWARDS. I've only gotten like four days worth of words typed up! Over a week of writing left and it'll just keep coming and ARGH. On the plus side, while I was sick of looking at my novel (the narrative of the last story I wrote appears to be what I've settled on), I typed up an HP fic I wrote a few months ago:

Moony Lovegood
Summary: Whilst hiding out in Hogsmeade, Sirius meets a certain blonde girl.

Because I couldn't figure out how the heck Sirius could possibly get a haircut in Goblet of Fire! I also wondered how he was coping with the aftereffects of prolonged ~~depression~~ exposure to Dementors (badly), what effect Buckbeak would have had on it (animals help with depression!), whether Remus thought to smuggle him chocolate (chocolate also helps with depression until you run out!)...

And I already thought up the pun so I couldn't resist. ~~Probably I'm going to do a Commentary Meme on it.~~

NaNoWriMo Day 9

2009-11-09T18:22:32Z

Word count: Around 7-8000, to be remedied once I start writing for the day.

I just realized I forgot to tell everyone on here about my novel. It's really just a collection of short stories about change. It also really sucks. XD I picked the most pretentious concept I could think of, and I didn't bother to do my usual character gymnastics so here's the main cast in order of most appearances:

-Me, with my sixteen-year-old personality (wallflower-ish).
-Some handsome brown-haired dude who looks and acts a lot like Squall Leonhart without the baggage.
-A dark-haired lady who is very motherly despite the fact that she's at the most about five years older than everyone else, and sometimes not even that.
-A hotheaded blond dude.

I basically just put everyone in every situation I can think of from hunting ghosts in our world to being knights and ladies in Medieval Fantasyland. AND NOW YOU KNOW THE PROFOUND MEANING OF MY NOVEL.

I am really enjoying myself this year, though! I think it's because I'm writing it out by hand like I usually do.

NaNoWriMo Day 4

2009-11-06T06:58:07Z

Yeah, I cracked. xD

I'm only a day off schedule now, due to my fashions class lasting eight hours. Um, and I've fallen a little bit in love with Travis Willingham and Vic Mignogna and Laura Bailey. I thought I wouldn't ever cosplay from Fullmetal unless it was Noah or Trisha. And then I remembered Klaus/Klose, that cute tomboy from the beginning of the series in the Blue Roses episode--I looked up some screencaps and went, "HOMFG SOMEONE'S WEARING A PRETTY BLUE DRESS AND I WON'T EVEN NEED A WIG YAY".

This is her.

Back to business

2009-11-01T17:53:40Z

Halloween was... okay this year. But anyway, today is November First and YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS. I'm going to check my email and things only once a week, starting today, in order to allot maximum writing time, and I may not post at all.

*waves* Good luck to any other NaNo participants!

GUYS GUYS

2009-10-21T19:51:18Z

LOOK GUYS

I FINISHED MY DRESS AND MY APRON AND I WAS SO EXCITED I TOOK A PICTURE OF ME IRONING TO CELEBRATE MY ALMOST-COMPLETION IN TIME FOR HALLOWEEN

LOOKLOOKLOOK

2009-10-11T18:49:52Z

Harley has developed this habit of sleeping on whichever pair of shoes she comes across. I find it weird because they don't seem like very comfortable pillows, but DARN IT SHE IS JUST SO ADORABLE:

Red converse courtesy of my sister.

OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH

2009-10-01T20:35:24Z

I am going to win NaNoWriMo this year, finish that novel, get it published, and become fabulously wealthy so that I can get a house here (disable popups for that site).

I never knew that such beauty existed outside of national parks. And--and people will be able to live there, in the middle of it!

SIGH

2009-09-26T03:30:09Z

-My fashions class is eight hours with one hour for lunch, and we work on paper so while my cutting technique has improved papercuts are inavoidable. I wish we could do some damn mockups in muslin already.

-My acting class... is actually not one where much acting is done (DAMN IT), we just talk about acting. It's nice and informative, but I still get so bored in that class. I decided to read pages from the book out loud in a really dramatic manner, but I don't think anyone listens.

-I'm working on my novel Slang. YES. THE FIRST CHAPTER IS HALFWAY DONE yet nobody seems to want to give me any feedback. I should have enrolled in Creative Writing at Berkeley. Or started up a writer's group. OR SOMETHING.

-I'm finishing up River's vest and trying to figure out how fishnet works.

-I'm learning Joanne's songs in RENT. Also Mimi's, but I like Joanne's better because I'm a mezzo-soprano.

Australia

2009-09-23T00:44:58Z

My brother is going to Australia next year, and he'll mainly be around the coast so he can surf and the heat won't kill him. If we want to go with him, we can.

I AM ALREADY LOOKING FOR COASTAL ANIME CONS BUT PLEASE SUGGEST OTHER THINGS I CAN DO

MORE MEMES

2009-09-19T04:43:49Z

AND MORE WRITING!

Yoinked from senri and okroginator

Post the first line of a story here, and I'll write the next five.

DVD Commentary Meme Part III

2009-09-16T05:39:22Z

The Fairy Tale Cage

I finished this ages ago, actually, but only published it this March because I was having the hardest time trying to finagle out what I wanted to say with this piece. There were going to be a LOT more references to Karla being called the Sword Princess. There was going to be a LOT more meaningful and enigmatic interaction with Karel. I had PLANS, people!

Plans that were instantly derailed when I started making Karla’s outfit for Fanime 2009. I don’t know why dressing up as a character renders me completely unable to write fanfiction about them, and vice-versa. Cosplayed Rinoa for three years, and planning on a fourth? Not even a plotbunny.

-
Karla can drop fifty men on the battlefield and not blink an eye, but something itches in the line of her vision when she hears distressed peeping from behind a scrubby bush.

Run-on sentences are one of my various problems, along with Talking Heads (that thing where you are good at dialogue but bad at external description so if it were filmed it would basically be talking heads in a blank white expanse). I like to think I’ve gotten better at the second one after thinking about things as if they were being filmed, but no one seems to mind run-ons anymore.

She flicks her gaze over to the left, and then to her right, before she sheaths her sword and goes looking for the source of the sound. Eventually, she nearly steps on it—a bright blue bird (Karla cannot remember the name) lies with wing crooked on the ground, hopping and so, so terrified. When the sword princess cups her hands to rescue it the bird squawks and pecks at her viciously before, fumbling and awkward, she manages to hold it up to the light.

Broken bone, Karla notices immediately. Still squawking, still pecking (though her hands are callused and hardened from training she winces when the beak digs into the flexible skin between the index and middle finger), Karla manages to straighten the wing out and senses the raw pain emanating--so much so that the bird starts struggling even harder to escape.

Have you ever been bitten by a bird?

Hurts like a mofo.

“But you cannot escape from me, bird,” Karla says, knowing it will do nothing but not sure of what else to say. “I am only trying to help.” The bird bites at her so hard that even through a callous she feels blood seeping out. But Karla is a warrior and she stays still in the midst of that distracting hot point of pain.

“Oh, my!” A new voice pokes through Karla’s silence. “Now that must hurt you, darling. Is it a bird?” An… archer, Karla notices, with blonde hair and a full-figured smile that radiates good nature; not to mention a sweltering amount of bright pink on her clothes.

Actually, upon reviewing a picture of Louise her outfit and cape are lavender with a salmon or peach lining. GO LOOK AND SEE BECAUSE I AM TOTALLY RIGHT

Hmm, and maybe I should fix this since I was wrong, too.

She does not recognize this woman. So feminine… although the voice…

Honestly, I don’t have any idea why I put Louise in here. She seems really motherly and charming and I just thought I’d put her in a little of the spotlight. It feels like cheating if I use someone Karla CAN support with, since she doesn’t have a lot of people.

“Yes, it is a bird. And it does hurt,” Karla adds. “Its wing is broken.”

“What a dear,” the archer remarks. “If you like, I will take you to my husband and he will take care of it for you.”

“No, I do not want to bother your husband,” Karla begins automatically, thinking of splints and waiting, and more bites and more blood on someone else’s hands. She would rather bother herself.

Um, I borrowed this perfect housewife demeanor from Sword Princess by Lemurian Girl. It’s been a while since I’ve read it, to be honest. I don’t recall the exact dynamics, but I do know that while she is not in active fiery rebellion she doesn’t HATE being able to defend herself. Correct me if I am wrong!

“Nonsense, it will only take a minute. Come, darling—what is your name?”

“Karla,” she replies, as the archer takes her free arm and begins gently pulling her to the other side of camp. Very gently; although Karla would not have stumbled over the ground even if it had been pockmarked and rough.

“Well met, Karla. I am the countess of Reglay, but please call me Louise.”

“I—will.” Karla stumbles as they turn sharply to avoid the walls of a tent and the jerk sends another attack from the bird’s furious beak through her hands.

“So sorry, dear—look! There he is. My lord Pent!”

Karla does not know Louise’s husband either. A stern-looking magic wielder with staff and tome in hand turns in the midst of a conversation with another magic wielder and… smiles gently, breaking the first impression.

Crossoverqueen loves Pent. I like deceiving first impressions!

“Louise!” The student (for the red-cloaked mage seems young enough to be one) remains silent and stiff until Pent turns to him. “Erk, you may leave now.”

“Thank you, Master.” And Erk leaves. Pent turns again to his wife.

“What may I do for you, my love?”

Louise smiles before stepping aside and nudging Karla forward. “My lord Pent, I would like to introduce you to Karla.”

“The Sword Princess?” Pent’s surprised exclamation resounds for a moment, but is quickly muffled by the nearby wall of canvas.

“Hm?” Louise asks. Karla is a bit confused as well.

“If I am correct,” Pent replies, “You are the white-clad mistress of the sword, both beautiful and extremely deadly. Arenas empty with one swing from your arm.”

Karla is white-clad, and she has not lost a battle yet. She has not heard what people say about her once she leaves the arena, however (or she has simply not bothered to remember). She is only keen-eared in the case of words that describe her brother Karel: words like “sword-demon” and “brown-haired”.

The bird twists and flutters furiously, pecking again. “Oh, right!” Louise remembers. “The bird has a broken wing, my lord. We were hoping you would fix it.”

“Compassionate as well?”

Why yes, albeit she is out of touch with said compassion—and any other emotion—to an unhealthy extent.

Pent holds his hand out, framed neatly by the canvas square behind him. “Here then, give it to me.”

Karla refuses politely. “No, sir. I would not like to inconvenience you further.”

One silver eyebrow tilts up, then relaxes back into a slight arch. “Very well.” The same hand, gloved with thin purple cloth, moves to hover over the bird’s broken wing. “Hmm, and I see it’s been straightened already! That makes things much simpler.”

Just like Karla sensed the bird’s pain and indignance from before, there is a slight tingle of energy spiraling down from Pent’s hand.

Swordmasters seem to lean a bit towards the spiritual side. I figured that if they had good resistance and were able to use magic swords they might as well have a touch of passive metaphysical ability.

YES! EVEN JOSHUA!

The bird settles suddenly in Karla’s grip as the pain falls away, then breaks into vicious flight up and away from the ground. “Oh…” Something strange and vivid wells up inside of her, an unfamiliar emotion that makes her eyes itch and her forehead furrow. She steps back and cranes her head up to follow the flight of the bird as a few feathers trickle back down. “I want to do that.”

“Fly?” Pent asks with a wise smile.

“No…” Karla shakes her head and looks down, feeling her chest tighten painfully around her heart. Her left hand drifts across her hips to the sword, in a reflexive gesture that has no place in the safety of the camp. “I want to heal. I want to make things better, like you.”

This brief conversation with Pent was the very first thing I wrote down when I decided to write a piece about Karla. She’s so moe, almost like Yuna of Final Fantasy X—a beautiful girl destined to die, crushed by the weight of her tragic life. Except Karla kills lots of people without caring (much) and presumably didn’t know she would die so soon.

I don’t think I got her depressing cuteness across in any of my poses, mostly because I spent about three hours in the outfit before rushing off to do other con stuff, and everyone mistook me for someone from Bleach.

-
Karla does not remember the name of the green-haired magic user who is surely too young to be doing this, but fate has decided to place them side by side on the battlefield. She dispatches of one enemy smoothly and calmly, feeling a bit nervous about protecting the fragile-looking girl. “My brother was a swordmaster, too,” the girl says, surprising her. “But gosh, he didn’t look as pretty as you did just now. In fact, I don’t think men ever look pretty while they do things—although he looked better than Linus, that’s for sure!”

Oddly enough, this is a recurring theme. I wax poetic about Leon being graceful in Eos, and about Cloud having a really quiet voice for a dude, and Joshua is quite intensely spiritual with a penchant for bursting into song.

What can I say? I like my men with class. xD

“Nino!” Yes, that is her name. Karla feels more jittery than ever when the young mage girl laughs. “Be careful while you speak to me! I do not want you to get hurt.”

Nino concentrates as a shadow looms behind her, then dodges the swing of an axe with her youthful energy and at the same time sends fire rushing from her fingers to the warrior’s hands. It is enough to make him stop for the moment, but Karla steps in quickly to finish him off.

“You are so pretty,” Nino tells her again.

“Thank you, but please… promise me you will be careful, Nino.”

“I will! At least… I’ll try.”

Karla feels nothing but regret as she cuts through another enemy and wishes she could heal, in case Nino’s efforts come to nothing. It has been a long time since Karla was young and clumsy, so as she watches the mage girl dodge she feels anxious as well. But Nino is careful and extra alert, so she comes out of the battle with only a cut on the forearm to show for it.

“Ow! Ow!”

Priscilla, another magic user, hears the cries of pain and rides over quickly with staff in hand. A few moments and not even the scratch mars Nino’s smooth skin. “There you go, Nino.”

“Thanks, Priscilla!” Nino happily strokes the horse’s neck as the healer turns to Karla.

I’d like to say using ‘Nino’ about seventy times in the above section was an intentional stylistic choice, to show how Karla is clinging to the first name she’s bothered to remember besides ‘Karel’ and her own in lieu of her self-imposed isolation falling away.

Unfortunately, I just didn’t want to use pronouns with three people of the same gender. Yes, it is a weaksauce reason and I should have stayed with the first one.

“Are there any wounds on you, Karla?”

Karla holds out her hand, feeling unsteady even on the thick, rough grass she is standing on. “Yes, my wrist aches.” The pain had begun when she stabbed someone without realizing there was a thick plate of armor underneath the tunic, so of course it would be injured if not entirely broken. Priscilla takes the wrist carefully and straightens it. Karla refuses the urge to fidget as light surrounds her forearm, dulling the pain first and then erasing it altogether.

“I’m done.” Priscilla sits up straighter as she lets go. “Any other injuries?”

“No.”

-
“Karla.”

Karel surprises her by appearing at her side one evening. “Brother!”

“You are not focusing, Karla.”

“Well… You are older and more experienced than myself, Brother. But I will try to be more alert next time.”

There is a hard, distant look in his eye; concentration in its purest form, devoid of all emotion. “No,” Karel tells her. He is framed by the darkness between two tents, so she cannot read his face clearly if she wanted to. Karla more often feels that she does not want to know what her brother is feeling these days; she has begun to seek him out less and less as a result. “Your swordplay is as beautiful as ever, Karla; however, it no longer pleases me to watch you.”

This, however, WAS something I meant to do. ~~For reasons I can no longer remember.~~

“I am sorry, Brother.”

“Do not feel sorry,” he says sternly. “I will not fight you like this.”

-
They are fighting near the shores of the sea and Karla is half-fascinated by the water.

Um.

Elves.

No, seriously. Karla said, or maybe it was Karel, that their ancestors were not originally from Sacae, but sailed over on boats across the sea. This reminded me of Lord of the Rings so much that I couldn’t resist.

You know, I actually took the time to learn Quenya?

However, the battle comes to them and she ends up fighting near it, mist spraying into her face and coating her cheeks with stinging salt. Some of it gets into her eyes, but misjudging the distance between herself and the water causes her to slip and fall, hair and sword slipping into the slippery mud and half-drowning her instantly.

This was inspired by the video ‘A Sorta Fairytale’ by Tori Amos. I went “ICKKK!” when Tori fell into the sandy water, but at the same time I thought the composition was marvelous with Tori’s red hair standing out against the horrible green sand--so here’s the same image with Karla.

Also, I used “slip” twice. I AM SO SORRY

However, when Karla fights her way into a sitting position and coughs the water out of her lungs Karel is standing over the defeated pirate with Wo Dao in hand.

“You are not focusing, Karla.”

She knows. She knows. But why…?

Karel waits until after Karla gets to her feet and pulls her own sword out of the mud before he vanishes, as mysteriously as he had come.

Ah, this was a shout-out to Crime and Punishment. For serious. “I will pull her out of the mud, too” or something along those lines. Except Karla does it herself.

-
It turns out the salt water had gotten deeper into Karla’s lungs than she had first thought, but by the time she realizes this she is already sick to the very depths of her bones. The cleric Serra declares a lung infection; so Karla remains burning and shivering in her tent while Lyn volunteers to assist her. In this case, that means removing her sash and outer shirt, as well as her boots, since Karla’s bones feel like jelly and she suspects that everyone else is too nervous to figure out how her sash can be untied. (It is not as hard as it looks.)

(I know because I learned how to tie obi and Karla’s sash is actually a variation on the simplest knot ever.)

“We’re not scared! Heck, no! It’s just…” The brown-haired archer’s voice is heard clearly through the walls of the tent Karla has been sharing with Priscilla. Before, she shared it with Rebecca, but having a healer by her side is more convenient. “H…how does she get that thing on and off with no one else to help her?”

Lyndis kindly supplies the answer. “She ties the double-bow on the side or front, and then twists it to the back before fastening the cord.”

Look at all those names Karla suddenly knows! I AM BEING DEEP AND USING WORDS IN A MEANINGFUL WAY

Also, the little gold fastener thingy broke on my costume. I had to use a safety pin, which looked totally weaksauce and I know that I need to make a new one but I’m too lazy to get off my butt and make the new fucking fastener.

“…Oh. That’s a lot simpler than what I’d…”

“It has… a bit loose anyway or else... not be able to fight.”

“Right…!”

And after that, Karla doesn’t remember a thing.

Because I didn’t remember a thing about what I was saying. After a couple days I went “I’LL JUST MAKE IT SOUND PROFOUND AND SHIT WITH AN AMBIGUOUS ENDING LINE AND GET ON WITH MY LIFE”, and I did and it feels wrong. Honestly, I love my writing in this piece. I really wanted it to be one of those times when I could just pick up where I left off after months and months, but I just couldn’t.

DVD Commentary Meme Part II

2009-09-13T05:45:18Z

Here’s another in-depth yet slightly shorter and more manageable commentary! You’ll see the inner workings of my writing process and what makes me tick and all that good stuff. I hope this won’t be boring. If it is, I’VE MADE IT EDUCATIONAL!

A Shtuken Nischt in Harts (original here)

This is Yiddish for “A Stab in the Heart” and the colloquial definition is, “Damn, that hurts!” I wanted to write a fanfic with a pretentious foreign title and for some reason decided on Yiddish. I still am not sure how this connects to the fic, besides the fact that I think of Jehanna’s culture as a strange mix of Judaism and Feudal Era Japan. Also the whole ‘marching through the desert’ thing.

-
The first sign that they are nearing Jehanna, long before any official signposts, is the gradual shift in landscape from gray and green to brown and yellow, though the sky remains the same drenched blue. Then the clouds thin out in a strained grayish haze, and the lack of white becomes a painful reminder of the water they must work to conserve.

So does the movement of Princess Eirika’s troop change, from marching to walking—and from walking to trudging on scrabbly, dust-covered paths. Their thoughts are turning as well, Natasha can see, from the long goal of remedying the mess the war created to just getting through the desert alive; though the last part becomes evident when L’Arachel begins to lose her cheerful pride, speaking only when spoken to.

Um, this was originally much longer than two paragraphs. I’m glad I cut out most of the walking now, since that would have struck parallels with the camping section of Deathly Hallows, and this is already a really dismal beginning.

-
The morning after they arrive in Jehanna, when the heat is more than a warning, the troupe’s progress slows to accommodate the fact that the children, along with Lute and Neimi, are lagging.

One reviewer was like, “Lute and Neimi are children, too!” Yeah, well, Lute and Neimi don’t seem like children to me; more like early teens. They’re scrawny (cough, flat) and their limbs don’t have the fleshed out look of young adults—yes, that might be due to malnutrition on Neimi’s part but Lute as a well-fed mage has no excuse besides that billowing ocean of a dress emphasizing her thin-ness.

Despite their best efforts it is clear they are getting exhausted more quickly than usual. Nothing comes of this, however, until Amelia trips in soft sand.

DESERT SURVIVAL NOTE: Dunes are soft on the leeward side and hard-packed on the other, so if you’re walking between them you might want to be careful.

She recovers, but can only take a few unbalanced steps before burying her face in an arm and trying to hide her tears.

It wouldn’t appear that Joshua would be able to hear it, since he and the other Jehannans are at the front, but when progress is halted he weaves back through the formation and is the first one to offer her water.

“Hey, now,” Natasha hears. “You can’t cry in a desert—you’ll dry up faster.”

Aww, look. Joshua’s being nice! I like to think that he was pretending to do the whole “I’m totally going to kill you” thing just to keep from looking soft in front of his employers, and was going to spare Natasha ALL ALONG. There was originally some more Yiddish, but I decided not to insert more random phrases of a language I don’t personally know.

“Thanks for scaring her to death, Josh.” Tethys has followed him, probably because Ewan is there as well—except the Jehannan mage is faring about as well as his sister, so both adults focus their attention on getting Amelia walking again. In the end, Tethys remains at the back with her while Joshua returns to the front, but their charge does look better.

How strange, Natasha observes. Now that they are in Jehanna, it seems they have a whole new set of healers.

Heartwarming!Montage starting in 3…2…1…

-
Once the younger and frailer have gotten over the worst of their adjustment,

This is a prequel, by the way, to Thoughts in Iambic Pentameter. I know I should’ve said that earlier, but… *shrug*

Natasha expects more adults to start succumbing to the change in climate, and that they will do so quietly in order to keep their pride intact.

It figures that Saleh, who has climbed mountains since he was a lad, is the first to show signs of heat exhaustion.

Sorry, Saleh, but there were like twenty adults to choose from and you had the more interesting back story. YOU’RE STILL KICKASS.

This time Gerik is closer than a healer, and gives him a clap on the back. “How do you like our turf, mountain-man?”

I don’t remember where I got that term from. It’s on Wikipedia, but I first read it in a book and it just stuck with me.

He goes on without an answer, as if his friend had any breath to spare. “You think this is bad? Try going for weeks without more than a swallow.”

As the deep voice segues into an anecdote, Saleh drinks and appears distracted from his lack of energy. When his flask runs empty, Gerik’s is still full and the water is halved between them. “That’s just for water, though. Man I knew once, he swore by wine. ‘Course, he was a little bit of an idiot…”

This is where my fangirlish obsession over Firefly REALLY showed. Gerik just seems like the type of easy-going average-intelligence person to affect a Western drawl. Also, desert.

-
And so on. Though, when the normally-withdrawn Marisa lends Tana her flask, Innes is offended in a most strange and irrational fashion that takes the rest of Gerik’s mercenaries, the three princesses, and Vanessa a long while to subdue in the most nonviolent manner they can think of.

I forgot that Ephraim wasn’t in the party before Ismaire died in the first draft. So he was there trying to keep Innes from going berserk, LOL

Oh yeah, and see what I did there with Marisa and Tana! Because they support, you know.

Meanwhile, Joshua disappears for half an hour.

When he comes back, the argument is still going strong. He shrugs, speaks briefly to the children, then approaches Natasha herself. She manages to catch sight of the flasks dangling from Joshua’s arm before her vision wavers slightly. Distracted, she barely manages to hear his question. “Natasha—you need water, don’t you?”

Being imbued with healing magic, Natasha and the other healers have held up rather better than the average soldier,

This is one of the things in my personal fanon! I’ve always thought of healers having boosted immune systems because they’re repositories of amazing healing magic, and it would make a lot of sense considering the fact that they spend all their time around sick/injured people. I mean… that happens normally, but magical clerics/priests would just be nigh-superhuman when it came to going without sleep and stuff.

This was originally later in the story, during the walk to the cliff--Natasha would have said this out loud, and Joshua would have been all, “Really? That’s nifty! I had to live fifteen years in the desert to build up MY heat tolerance.” But that would have taken away from the seriousness so I put it here in the narrative.

but they do have limits and all of a sudden her mouth is dry. “That’s very nice of you, Joshua, but you don’t have to—”

”Oh, don’t worry!” he assures her. “These things are going to be really awkward to carry once they’re full and all, so I’m going to need you to split the load. Besides, you’ll probably want to see the kids once we’re done.”

It makes an astonishing amount of sense. Natasha informs Saleh of their errand, and the sage nods before turning his gaze to the nigh-berserk Innes; then he looks at a sleep staff with clear intent.

Since Joshua can defend himself and the rest of the capable adults are fighting or exhausted, Natasha goes with Joshua. Contrived, yes, but IT MAKES SENSE TOO SO THERE.

Joshua laughs. “Just make sure to hit him on the first try, Master. You’ll only make him madder if you miss.”

“Perhaps later, then.” Saleh’s voice was always quiet; now it is hoarse and thin as well, making the words indistinct rather than inconspicuous. He drinks what appears to be the last swallow from his flask, but does not give it to them. Perhaps he had seen they were filling the children’s flasks first.

Awwwwwwwwwww.

“We’ll be back soon, Master Saleh,” Natasha promises. But her own voice does not sound much better.

-
Joshua is surefooted as they trek over one dune, then another. While Natasha knows they are not far from camp, she can’t help feeling alarmed when she looks back to see nothing except the white dunes, rolling on as far as the eye can see. As soon as she starts to sweat, Joshua stops and allows her time to catch her breath; since he is in front of her, Natasha chalks it up to experience.

DESERT SURVIVAL NOTE: Always stop, rest, and drink some water for a few minutes if you find yourself sweating in the desert. EVEN IF YOU DON’T FEEL THIRSTY.

Also, he is silent. For whatever reason, Joshua is not one for taunting his opponents in battle, but after the fighting was over he would always strike up a conversation with someone.

I.E. Natasha.

Gerik, too, is friendly, and Tethys along with her brother.

Basically, “Every Jehannan except Marisa is really nice!” My gosh, am I bad at padding or what?

Natasha watches the back of Joshua’s coat wondering why he is being so taciturn all of a sudden, until he stops to check their direction and veers slightly east.

He does this with such precision that she realizes Joshua is being serious—as serious as she’s ever seen anyone. But then, here in Jehanna, why wouldn’t he be? Right now Natasha is not thirsty enough to feel daunted from the walk, but the children’s flasks are as empty as ever. And after she takes another drink, so is hers.

“Now don’t panic,” Joshua says,

sounding an awful lot like Gerik, who in turn sounds like Captain Mal from Firefly,

so suddenly Natasha thinks she must have been wondering out loud. Then: “I just need to dig out my sword.” Natasha looks at his belt and sure enough, his sword is not there. She hadn’t really noticed, but now she is confused as to why Joshua would leave his sword and go around defenseless when there is a war going on.

He points to a short cliff, distracting her.

DESERT SURVIVAL NOTE: You can find water in the shade of a cliff. You might have to dig for it, but it’s there and you can totally drink it.

A small glint in the shadow is Joshua’s focus, and back to his usual self he quickens his pace. “It won’t be long now, Natasha! You can sit in the shade, but just so you know I’m going to be pushing a lot of sand around.”

She nods, weary, and settles with her back to the cliff. When Joshua pulls out his sword and lays it aside, she can see it is covered with damp sand. The myrmidon makes quick work of the dry top layer, merely moving it to the side till he hits a darker patch that clings to his hands, and grins as if he’d struck gold. After he procures a white bandanna Natasha assumes he will mop his brow with it. Instead, he lays it across the hilt of his sword and pulls out a small trowel, digging properly for a few minutes until water bubbles up.

Ah yes, the little spade. In my personal fanon every Jehannan has that and the kerchief. Even Tethys.

“And thanks the Stones for that!” Joshua shakes dry sand off the cloth, then reaches out to her. “Here. Give me your flask.”

Still befuddled by the sun, the walking, and the fact that Joshua sounds uncannily serious once more, Natasha shakes her head. “Oh—no, I really couldn’t…”

“You can talk all you want about being noble,” and underneath his flippant tone Natasha hears a strange weight,

This ties into Song of the Blade. SEE WHAT I DID THERE

“But you’ve been walking in the sun

And if you follow there may be a tomorrow/But if the offer’s shunned, YOU MIGHT AS WELL BE WALKING ON THE SUN

Aka the original summary.

and you need to not collapse before you get a chance to look at the kids. They can wait a few more seconds.”

“Well…” Natasha nods, trying to look reluctant even as she recalls that they had only started to run out of water this afternoon. “All right.”

Joshua takes her flask, covers the mouth of it with the bandanna, and filters the water in.

DESERT SURVIVAL NOTE: This only gets rid of the sand and dirt and junk so it tastes (marginally) better. It doesn’t actually get rid of bacteria or anything, but if you are exhausted and dehydrated even water that makes you sick for a few days will be better than nothing.

Also, these guys have healers with awesome healing skills, so it wouldn’t be so bad anyway.

She wonders as he gives it back whether he is going to fill his flask next. But he takes the one at his wrist next, hands it to her when it’s full, and repeats until they both have six flasks on them and Natasha feels that the heat is almost bearable now.

They’re still in a desert with sun and dunes as far as the eye can see, but yeah.

Now, she decides, is the moment Joshua will take his own share. He scrutinizes the unchanged water level and nods. “Yeah, I think we’ll have plenty of water for everyone.” He fills his flask almost as an afterthought, with a quick swipe instead of the calculated movements he’d done with everyone else. “Let’s get back to camp and see how things with Innes are going.”

Originally I was going to have this be curiously similar to a Jehannan wedding ritual, and NATASHA WOULDN’T KNOW BECAUSE SHE’S GRADIAN. (Um, a Grad?) But that didn’t fit, and Joshua doesn’t seem the type to marry someone without their knowledge even as a joke.

-
The walk back feels much shorter, even with the extra flasks bouncing unevenly against Natasha’s thin hips. She is almost taken aback when she sees the slice of camp past the dunes. Before she can stop herself she asks, “Joshua?” Again Joshua surprises her with his focused look, but it changes so quickly into his usual smile she feels she must have imagined it.

“What?”

“Thank you very much for the water. You… didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Well.” He shrugs, not displeased. “You’re in my country now.” He hasn’t said ‘you’re welcome’ yet, so Natasha stops and waits. When Joshua looks back at her, he halts his progress as well. “You spend so much time thinking about other people,” he remarks. “What if you were the only one who did, and you couldn’t help them anymore? What would happen then?”

Lo, a glimpse into the inner depths of Joshua! I had more of a conversation here, but… *shrug*

Apparently this characterization of Joshua is really different from how most people portray him, which is strange because… don’t most people pay attention to how different his speech pattern is when he’s with Ismaire? He calls her “Mother”, for goodness’ sake. If there’d been voice acting I bet he would have pulled a Demyx (from Kingdom Hearts) and had his voice drop an octave, just so it’d be REALLY obvious.

If Natasha had started walking she would have just stopped again, both at the uncomfortable truth and the fact that she is talking to Joshua. His eyes right now have a foreign glint in them—not tears but something she has seen before, from someone else. They change his smile into something heavy and faded.

“And what--” a certain dancer’s voice demands, “Have you two been up to?” Joshua hands Tethys a flask in reply. She stares at it for a moment, then instantly switches from Playful Friend to Concerned Big Sister. “Oh, thank goodness—Ewan! Come here!”

Awkward Situation: Averted! I am actually really proud of this moment because it highlights Tethys’ maternal side and actually seems WAY funnier than her making innuendo and junk. She seems quite affectionate to me, which is different than being lusty.

The Jehannan mage is clearly embarrassed as Tethys gives him the water and orders him to drink, insisting as always that he can take care of himself. Natasha feels almost relieved at the distraction while she makes her way to the other children sequestered in tents. Joshua is certain to be heading for the royalty clustered around Innes’ unconscious body.

-
“I say we’ve been out of Jehanna too long,” Gerik says around the oasis they had reached.

There was a whole thing here about the Jehannans knowing where all the oases were, and the oasis would have had names and everything. Buuuuut I got lazy I guess.

Morale is higher and even Innes looks slightly less dour; therefore, Gerik’s tone is not troubled but of good-natured irreverence. “She ain’t the sort to welcome us with open arms, not even people who were born here.”

More carefully edited dialogue.

“Tough love, that’s Jehanna.” Joshua jerks his head towards Ewan sleeping against his sister’s shoulder. Everyone smiles.

“It’s what we’re known for, Josh. That and the other sort—Tethys’ sort.”

“What’s the other sort?” Amelia asks. She has recovered more quickly than Ross and Franz, sounding sleepier than usual this early in the evening but otherwise back to normal.

“Well, honey, to figure one out you need the other,” Tethys says.

This is a Southern belle accent, rather than a roaming-cowboy drawl. It’s affected, of course, but no one really minds.

NOW YOU WILL ALL READ JEHANNAN SUPPORTS THIS WAY.

“There’s sand-and-sun, what we were just talking about. It’s discipline and strength—toughens you up. The other one, it means… oasis. It shelters you. Thing is, no two people ever have the same idea on how much to use. Some say you need to be like the desert, with discipline and a little bit of soft, others say it’s the opposite.”

“Just like in everywhere else,” Gerik tells them. “But I like to think Jehannans are honest. ‘No one lies with the sun in their eyes.’”

“Is that a fact?”

Ummm, I don’t think Joshua has an accent, but he was a prince and he traveled so yeah.

Joshua does not look like a paragon of discipline and strength right now, with his legs stretched out towards the water and the usual slight smile on his face. The fact that he kills people as easily as he breathes is not relevant; even Amelia, who is young and understandably troubled at fighting her countrymen, has defeated her share of monsters, and Joshua was born to the life of killing for hire. But…

Jehanna always struck me as a country with incredibly different moral codes and attitudes towards killing and junk. If you’re in a pickle you could say, “I’m Jehannan on my mother’s side!” and everyone would be all, “Oh, okay.”

-
Something rustles behind her as she stumbles through the sand to her tent. “Hey there, Sister.”

Joshua’s silhouette in the twilight, with sword hand in a pocket of his coat and hat tilted so he is half-blind, makes her think not of the Luck he strives for but Justice.

Justice is traditionally portrayed as a woman.

But I, um, actually got this image from a picture in The Grey Fairy Book and not traditional Romantic paintings (even though I like the Romantic period almost as much as Impressionist!).

Natasha is not sure whether this is intentional or not. She is not sure of anything about the swordfighter anymore, except that whatever reason his duplicity might serve is not to hide anything malicious.

She’s confused, but it’s the nice sort of confused. Like opening a present, and being 75% sure you won’t be disappointed by what’s inside!

In fact, looking back upon the time they met for the first—no, the second time—Natasha decides that Joshua’s ruse was (and still is) to conceal his virtues instead.

“Why hello, Joshua.” She turns to face him and smiles. Any thoughts about the secret Joshua has can wait. For right now, everything is going as well as it can be while traveling in a desert with children. “You haven’t called me ‘Sister’ in a while.”

SUCKAGE. I know this was supposed to be romance. I started out thinking this would be an awesome, deep, subtle romance. And then… it just swerved. That is the only thing I don’t like about this fic, that it DOESN’T HAVE ANY DAMN ROMANCE. The more I write about Natasha and Joshua, the less romance I actually put in. They’re like a black hole or something. I’m really sorry for not being a good romance writer, guys.

The DVD Commentary Meme!

2009-09-08T06:10:36Z

In accordance with the aforementioned meme, here's an informative and hopefully EXCITING commentary on what I believe is my SEXIEST fic.

May Day (original here)

Beltane Fact: This is one of the many names of the celebration, along with Céad Shamhain, Gŵyl Galan Mai, or Walpurgisnacht. Also, about seventy different spellings of Beltane.

Carbrey is playing with some leafy branches in the hall outside their quarters, throwing some of them like spears or slashing a makeshift sword at his invisible opponent.

I decided Frelia was pretty close to Scotland. So, Carbrey’s got a Scottish name.

Other than wondering whether her son has gotten lonely (dubious, as he disliked crowds when he was a baby) and where exactly he’d gotten those when he hadn’t left Castle Frelia today,

Yeah, Vanessa lives in the castle with her son but she isn’t married. I decided it would be SEXIER for her and Innes to be living in sin.

(With like the other hundreds of servants and royalty and nobles to gossip about them and junk.)

Vanessa smiles and rests her hand on his shoulder. “Carbrey.”

“Yes, Momma?”

“I’m going to be out of the castle, for work.” Of course he knew that could mean anywhere from a few hours to a week. Even so, it pains Vanessa to leave her son all alone in this big stone castle. In normal circumstances her sister or mother would have been happy to keep an eye on him, but both were busy with the royal tasks set to them, or rotating the job of looking after the neighbors’ children while preparing for Beltane. “Father Moulder will check up on you as best he can, but remember he’s getting on in years—don’t get into any mischief while I’m gone.”

There was going to be an anecdote about how Carbrey got roped into trying to jump over a fire in the hall and Vanessa TOTALLY grounded him, buuuuuut it was cut because it kind of bogged down the plot.

“All right, Momma. I promise I won’t.” He sounds crestfallen in the way many quieter children do; trying to hide it under stiff politeness is peculiar to Carbrey, though. Vanessa hopes this isn’t a sign that he will grow up lean and sharp—she’d nearly had a heart attack when his hair, green like hers, developed a distinct gray sheen in sunlight.

Just to make things absolutely clear: VANESSA KNOWS INNES IS HIS FATHER. She just doesn’t want anyone ELSE to know.

Well, everyone knows anyway, but they pretend not to because she gets really stressed out and junk and that is NOT SEXY.

She shakes off the anxiety in order to kneel and hold her arms out. “All right—give me a hug, darling.” He does, and to his credit does not let go until she does. “There! I promise I’ll be back as soon as possible.” Vanessa turns on a heel and breaks one of the branches, prompting the addition: “Remember to clean this up once you’re done. Ack!” Prince Innes had been standing behind her.

SEXUALLY CHARGED CONVERSATION BEGINNING IN 3…2…1...

Though there isn’t anyone to see, she flushes. “I apologize, Sir! I… hadn’t seen you.”

“Well, I won’t hold you, Vanessa.” He nods, she salutes, and they move to go past each other (although Vanessa’s pace is more hurried than usual). “The sooner you leave, after all, the sooner you may return to your boy.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Why the surprise, Vanessa? You of all people know that I’m not heartless.”

“S-sir?!”

“Because you were in the war with me.”

“…The war?”

“In which we witnessed and experienced atrocities together.”

“Um… uh, of course, sir! Terrible thing, the war! Awful.”

And everyone listening would have just shaken their heads and pretended not to know, for Vanessa’s sake. When I rewrote the scene to be just Vanessa, Carbrey, and Innes, though, it rendered this SEXY AND HILARIOUS snippet rather useless.

“What have we here?” Innes’ voice is almost enough to make her turn round—his was always quiet, but it seems… softer than usual. She doesn’t dare look when Carbrey replies, sounding like a seven-year-old echo of the prince. If he shows any aptitude for the bow, she will have a heart attack.

He might just be the first male pegasus knight in CENTURIES. I haven’t figured it out yet.

-
“I was just playing, Your Highness,” Carbrey mumbles, intimidated by the prince who is head, shoulders, and a good part of his torso taller than him.

Carbrey takes mostly after Vanessa, so for the moment he is a bit shorter than average. I don’t care for daughters resembling mothers and sons resembling fathers. Um, this brings up a lot of color dominance questions, but since Vanessa and Syrene both have green hair and Tana has blue hair I just stuck with the cool colors.

“At what?” The famous eyes glance around, taking in everything from the tapestries on the stone walls to the sticks scattered under Carbrey’s feet. “I see none of your fellows around here.”

“Well, they aren’t here, sir. They’re helping their parents get ready for Beltane.”

BELTANE FACT: Ribbons and flowers in the windows are traditional decorations, and the official colors are red, green, and white.

One of my first ideas was having Carbrey be at his grandparents’ house, since Vanessa would be delivering invitations and she wouldn’t have time to look after him. Then she’d go to Innes and ask if she could possibly retrieve her son. But I wanted Innes’ secret paternal side that he only shows with Tana to apply to Carbrey as well, so Vanessa is only sending an invitation to Jehanna; Tana and Syrene are inviting Renais and Rausten, respectively.

“And the answer to my question?”

It’s steely, but sounds nice enough—just pointing something out—so Carbrey doesn’t feel cowed like when his mom is in one of her no-nonsense moods. Then again, he and his friends hadn’t been trying to make a fire in the hall and jump over it when Innes showed up…

Oh, that’s where I put it.

“I was pretending to be a knight, sir.”

“Hmm.” Innes picks up a few branches and observes them closely. “Rowan, birch, hazel…”

BELTANE FACT: Oak, hawthorn, apple, fir, willow, and grapevine are the others. I don’t know why the last one is deemed a ‘wood’. I guess it burns well enough?

After looking at the ones on the ground, he finishes, “No willow, though. I’d be surprised if there was. Did you get these from the Beltane stockpiles?”

“No, sir. The maids were decorating the windows and they let me have them, as long as I gave everything back.”

Awww, look at him acting all princely and noble!

“Good lad.” Carbrey feels the way his mother looks after a compliment—all warm and shiny inside. When the prince stoops to pick up some of the branches, it looks a bit odd. “Tell you what, Carbrey.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Once we’re done with this, I will take you to the courtyard and show you how a knight would act in battle.” Innes starts walking in his most ‘Don’t bother me as I am extremely busy’ manner to the main hallway where the maids are still decorating, and hands them the branches.

If we were watching this on a screen, this conversation would be a ‘oner’ or a ‘walk and talk’, in which a single camera does one long take while they—wait for it!—walk and talk. Especially effective in hallways. Yes, I think in film terms. IN CASE YOU DIDN’T NOTICE FROM ME USING THE TERM ‘CUT’.

Everyone looks at them oddly for a minute, but Carbrey has to jog to keep up with the prince.

There was more furtive whispering and pretending to work going on, which was cut.

“B-but sir,” he stammers, feeling torn between following his mother and following the orders of the Prince his mother follows to the letter. “My mother said I wasn’t to learn to fight until I was twelve, sir. And I’m only seven.”

“Well, what your mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

OMG INNES IS BEING SNEAKY.

I was going to put more interaction to establish Innes as the “Screw the rules, it’s my son and I’ll do what I want” parent, while Vanessa is a bit stricter. Once I finished writing this, though, I didn’t want to type it up.

“But… aren’t you busy, sir?”

“No. Though, I like to be.” Even though Innes is actually going to the courtyard right now, he always looks like he has to be somewhere else, fast, and anyone who gets in his way will get shot up or glared to death or something. His mother herself, one of the inner circle knights of Frelia, wouldn’t bother him at all unless it was important, and in one of his black moods people would clear the halls for fifty feet. “My father the king places great value on those who do not idle about, and I refuse to disappoint him.”

“Um…” That makes a lot of sense, except Carbrey remembers Princess Tana and has to ask. “What about Princess Tana, sir? She’s a pegasus knight, but besides that I don’t think I’ve seen her anywhere else besides the banquets and parties.” She always wore the fanciest clothes, too.

Fashion Fact: Natasha wears a recognizably Edwardian-era wedding dress while the other women wear the standard mish-mash of medieval styles with short skirts. There are still lots of inaccuracies, but the principle stands.

Innes wore something close to what he was wearing now, long coats--made by the finest tailor in Frelia, of course, but nothing like his sister who never wore the same outfit twice.

“Oh?” Innes promptly scares Carbrey out of his wits when he frowns. “So, who do you think plans them?”

And Tana is secretly a genius in my characterization of her. She just likes parties more than battles so everyone underestimates her.

-
Some Time Later

“Esme?” Joshua asks, from near the back of the group. “Daddy is losing all feeling in his arm, so you’re going to have to let up a little. Please.”

Esme: Short for Ismaire. I couldn’t figure out a way to work this into the story without sounding forced.

The sight of happy couples decorated with flower garlands strolling through the streets, with branches and ribbons on every window is a familiar sight to everyone—except for the children, who are either too young to remember much or live in one of the far eastern countries (or both). Natasha shakes her head in exasperation and at the same time takes their daughter with her free hand. In contrast their son Alexei is walking by himself, with a thoughtful expression at his new surroundings.

Alexei: The name of Natasha’s mentor. I tried not to name any more children after dead people.

Ephraim, one of the first to receive garlands from his sister and Tana, slows his pace. “What?” he asks, with too much astonishment for it to be genuine. “Is my little god-daughter afraid of something, now?”

Dynamic: Esme is really close to Ephraim because she is a swordfighting princess whose nickname starts with E, and she’s a lot more cheerful than her twin brother. Their supports would be ADORABLE.

She shakes her head, reddish-gold pigtails flopping timidly, yet continues to hold onto Natasha. “And here I thought you were made of stronger stuff, Esme.”

“Be nice, Ephraim!” Eirika calls, as a precaution to Ephraim’s usual teasing. She is giving the red flower garlands to one person and then the next with a methodical progression, having already given smaller ones to half of the children. She waits for Tana, who is still in the center of the group, and meanwhile requests Gerik to bow his head.

“Thanksh, doll.” Somehow the general of all Jehanna’s forces is already sloshed, despite it being very early in the day.

Annnnnd that’s the second time I’ve used a huge, sloshed Jehannan for comedic purposes. I LIKE GETTING THEM DRUNK, OKAY?

He allows the much shorter princess to slip a wreath around his neck with the malleability of a day-old lamb. “Y’should lighten up, already, though. It’s Beltane! Haven’t you ever joined in the festivities proper or what?”

“There is an official celebration in Renais every year,” Eirika begins, at which all the grown men in the group shake their head—save Ephraim, who looks about to reply before clearing his throat and looking somewhere else; Seth, who would never interrupt his royal spouse to save his life; and Innes, who is uncharacteristically late. “What?”

“Forget that, milady.” Forde says in the most helpful, explanatory tone possible.

Only Forde would be able to do this with a big happy smile on his face. Kyle is too much of a stick in the mud, and Rennac would have been really condescending. Also, I needed Forde’s presence to be prevalent for later.

If the children had not been in full view, Seth surely would have done something about his lazy underling. “Any Beltane celebration worth its salt is in Frelia. And where are we now? Frelia! So you can now experience for yourself, milady, how our Beltane pales in comparison to this.”

Eirika follows Forde’s expansive arm gesture with a critical gaze, and ticks off the things that she sees. “Flowers, ribbons, happy couples… Forgive me, Forde, but this looks exactly like ‘our’ Beltane.”

“I could—”

“Incoming!” a familiar woman’s voice shouts. Everyone looks up to see Vanessa’s pegasus gliding in fast, carrying Innes and a smaller green-haired figure as well as the knight herself. “Frelians, I implore you to make way for your Prince!” As a street-wide circle is cleared, they land with little more than a clatter of horseshoes on the cobblestones, a sound which is easily drowned out in the applause.

I figured domestic pegasi would need protection for their hooves, especially since they have so much more weight behind them on landings. Hollow bones or no, they’ve still got about 30-50% more muscle. Wild pegasi would be smaller, like ponies, with their hooves both larger and harder to deal with the repeated stress.

Innes lurches off, somewhat paler than usual due to the higher speed, but regains composure once he reaches the group.

Innes gets airsick easily. LOL

“Ahem. I apologize for being this late, as it is unbefitting a prince of my stature. However—” He shoots a glare at Tana, who ducks behind Eirika and mutters something about how she knew she’d forgotten something. “Someone decided she should go on to Sulskery without telling me of the change in plans.”

‘The Great Selkie of Suleskerry’ is a haunting and beautiful ballad. LISTEN TO IT

I was going to use Walleston, right by Walles Forest which is mentioned in the Innes/L’Arachel support, but why use canon when you can make a perfectly good allusion?

“You had a backup plan anyway,” Tana mumbles.

“And what would have happened if Vanessa’s son hadn’t wandered away and delayed her take-off?”

“Oh, is that him?” Tethys asks, in an attempt to stop the argument. Surprised, the Frelian royalty directs their attention to her as she approaches the green-haired lad. “No, it can’t be! You’re surely too old to be Carbrey.”

“But it is!” Vanessa places a hand on her son’s shoulder and nudges him forward, with a proud smile. “You’ve all met Carbrey before, though that was when he couldn’t speak. Say hello, dear.”

“Hello, everyone,” he responds politely, standing up straight while he does. “It’s very nice to see you all again.”

There is a moment of silence during which all the adults tilt their heads, raise an eyebrow, or just look puzzled. Seeming a touch nervous, Vanessa shoos Carbrey to the back with the other children before asking her friends, “What?”

IT’S FUNNY BECAUSE HE TALKS LIKE INNES.

“Ehh, thought we heard something odd in the background,” Gerik mumbles. “Nothing to worry about—that’s a good boy you got there! I got to say, you make fine-quality children, Vanessa.”

The last sentence is a partial quote from Neil Ciciriega, of Potter Puppet Pals fame, to his sister. I thought it was the cutest thing to say about a pregnant lady.

She takes Gerik at his inebriated word and smiles, while everyone else just holds in their laughter.

Now that all of the children are here, they cluster in twos and threes with strict permission not to wander off or fall too far back. Even Carbrey, who is a very quiet child, starts pretending at a skirmish with Lute and Kyle’s son Simon. The adults, meanwhile, are bemused at the way the civilians are treating them—only Innes is subject to bows and curtsies, and while the other royals are acknowledged they are treated with the same casual respect everyone else gets.

“This is how it is in Renais, too, Forde,” Eirika comments, after a passing Frelian cleric gives them more garlands—white instead of red, this time.

I remember being in the Philippines when I was about six during some holiday or other, and a lady on the street gave me flowers.

Sorry I don’t have a lot of personal anecdotes! I’m not the sort of person who puts in a lot of stuff from my life.

“Even Father never got more than a bow.”

“What are you talking about?” Innes asks.

“Forde was just comparing the Beltane celebrations between our countries,” Ephraim replies. He takes off one of his garlands, allowing his pointed chin to be seen, and after a moment offers it to L’Arachel—who currently has just the two from Tana and Eirika. “Will you accept this token from me, L’Arachel?”

“The nerve!” As always, the princess of Rausten draws attention as easily as she breathes. “I am most affronted at such indecency! Why, I feel that I must take it now, in order to spare some less… spiritually resilient woman your barbarous affections!” She places it around her neck, head high.

You know how long it took me to write this damn sentence? A WEEK. And I had to use a THESAURUS. I hate writing L’Arachel’s purple prose speech patterns. Although I have to admit it is MAD FUN reading them aloud afterwards in a high-pitched, posh British accent.

“So what’s this about the celebrations?” Innes reminds everyone, after they’re finished wondering how Ephraim could have fallen for such a mad woman. “Surely I, as Crown Prince of Frelia, would be helpful in settling this debate, or at least elaborating on Frelian specifics.”

“This ain’t a battle, Boss,” Gerik points out. “Y’don’t have to… to…” He trails off. When the royalty looks back at him, it appears he has forgotten he was saying anything at all.

-
Innes (now firmly in place as the tour guide) takes them to a food booth where their group takes up nearly all of the chairs, and pays for everyone’s serving of a flat, dark, circular bread. Eirika lays a napkin and then the plate over her lap, slices a wedge out as if it were a pie, and remarks after one careful bite, “Well, Forde, I admit—we do have sweetbreads and the like in Renais during Beltane, but this is quite different. What are they again?”

You: Isn’t Tana, like, best friends with Eirika? Wouldn’t she KNOW what this is?

The answer is NO because Beltane is really just a huge party and this is commoner’s fare. Also, I hope the whole thing where Eirika thinks that Frelia’s celebration is pretty much the same as the one in Renais makes up for it.

“Scones!” Tana swallows before she speaks since she is eating as quickly as decorum will allow her to. “Well, Frelian scones.”

“The colloquial term is bannocks,” Innes says after his sister is finished speaking, then shrugs. “Either way, everyone knows what you’re talking about.”

“They are wonderful!” L’Arachel exclaims. She holds her plate up rather than setting it on her lap, a rather fussy habit which only Natasha follows—and with much less exaggerated daintiness. “The robust interplay of woodsy flavors, barely restrained by human technique, is such a contrast to the delicate refreshment of the flavored water. Sir Forde, I do implore you to dine in a civilized manner so I do not vomit up this glorious meal.”

You know how long it took me to write THIS damn sentence? ANOTHER TWO DAYS.

Forde is holding up the circular pastry and taking large bites directly out of it, rather than slicing it like everyone else.

Geez, Forde, what a SLOB. But here he is, being in the fic!

He reluctantly puts it back on the plate, wipes his mouth with a handkerchief, and picks up his untouched knife. “I’m terrifically sorry, Princess L’Arachel. Please, find it in your pure and holy heart to forgive my abominable actions.”

Surprisingly, Sarcastic!Forde was easier to write than L’Arachel. Maybe I was getting into the groove.

Every word drips with sarcasm (especially the long ones) which the princess does not seem to hear. Instead she gives a nod of approval. “Very well. I forgive and thank you, Sir Forde, seeing as your apology was so eloquently delivered.”

-
With their quiet, thoughtful natures, Carbrey and Joshua’s son Alexei are getting along quite well. They sit next to each other and eat their bannocks with the same dignity expressed by the adults. Finally, Alex breaks the silence by pointing to his twin sister. “I’m Alex. That’s my twin over there, Esme.” Both have a similar shade of reddish-gold hair, but Esme’s is already tousled despite its pigtails while Alex’s is as neat as it was when his mother combed it that morning.

“I’m Carbrey.” They watch as Esme chases after Simon, then Sir Forde when he enters the fray with as much abandon as if he was their age.

Look! More Forde! Because FORDE IS AWESOME.

(AND IMPORTANT.)

Sir Franz looks humiliated as Dame Amelia elbows him with a smirk. “I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”

Awwwwwwwwww.

“Esme likes swordfighting. I have healing magic, anyway, so I don’t like it. Does your mom teach you things?”

I’m going to write more about the kids.

Colm and Neimi’s daughter, Jenna, is prodded into joining in as well. Carbrey shakes his head. “She taught me etiquette when I was younger, but she isn’t teaching me to fight until I’m twelve.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. When did you start learning how to fight?”

“When I was old enough to walk.”

This is a hint as to Joshua’s REAL parenting methods.

…Rooted firmly in tradition, NOT incredibly harsh or abusive.

Despite looking like her mother with blue hair, Jenna does not take much after Neimi. When she is tagged a bit roughly by Esme, Jenna tags back even harder over Esme’s indignant screech, “No tag-backs!” This escalates into a shoving match that Forde is quick to stifle by grabbing Jenna, while Natasha takes her daughter in a firm grip. When the dust settles, both girls alternate between sulking and glaring at each other, instead of bursting into tears.

I thought it would be funny to make Neimi’s daughter not weepy.

“Anyway, who’s your dad?” Alex looks around as if he may have missed someone, which is likely considering the size of their group.

“Whenever I ask my mom who he is, she says it doesn’t matter since I’m a child of the May.” Carbrey delivers this with a shrug.

BELTANE FACT: Children conceived during Beltane celebrations are called merry-begets or children of May. Neither of them sounded very sexy, or like something a seven-year-old would understand, so I just flipped a coin.

“She also gets really nervous and says something about running into ‘some completely random stranger at Beltane.’ And she won’t tell me what Beltane has to do with me even though my birthday is right at Midwinter.”

LOL AT HIS INNOCENCE

He looks around, but more as if he is wary that someone may be listening. “Can you keep a secret, Alex?”

A dignified nod is the young prince’s only reply.

”Prince Innes is teaching me to fight.”

Alex looks at the stern prince with faded brown hair

In the SUPERMEGAFOXYAWESOMEHOT OFFICIAL ART of Sacred Stones, Innes is portrayed with brown hair that is frosted a little so it has a gray sheen. He looks a lot like Squall Leonhart. As a Rinoa cosplayer, I find this amazingly SEXY.

and observes, “He doesn’t seem very nice like King Ephraim or Princess Tana. Or my dad.”

“He is, sort of. Whenever he talks to me, he isn’t mean like everyone says he is—just stiff.”

People think of and characterize Innes as a big meanie, but I don’t think he is. He’s just introverted, intelligent, and rooted in the traditions and social mores of being a crown prince.

“Did he teach you how to talk, too?”

“No, I said my mom was the one who taught me that.”

“Well, you sound like Prince Innes when you talk.”

“Really? I never noticed.”

Joshua and Colm approach their respective daughters with startling gravity. “Ismaire,” Joshua says, in his most warning tone. “What did we say about shoving people because they shoved you first?”

OH WAIT I DID WORK ESME'S FULL NAME INTO THE STORY

MY BAD

I hope I don’t forget anything else about my own fanfiction. That would be TOO embarrassing.

“Oh!” Carbrey exclaims. “I forgot—what’s it like living in a desert?”

It took me the longest time to try and think up a question that intelligent but naive seven-year-olds would ask. Then I remembered Jehanna and Frelia have wildly different climates so I went, :D!

-
“It looks like everyone’s going home,” Eirika says. As the sunlight begins to fade, many people start to file off the streets until the city looks almost deserted. She has a tired, yet somewhat triumphant expression on her face which Forde is quick to deter. “Isn’t it too early for that? We haven’t been to the bonfire yet.”

“Au contraire, milady. This is when the—”

“Excuse me, Sir Forde.” Innes steps between them, affronted. “Not only is that a despicable show of forwardness towards your own queen, but you forget this is my country. I will be the one to inform visitors—such as you—of the events.”

Isn’t Innes SEXY when he uses all those precisely placed italics? I had fun formatting this until I uploaded it and all the italics went wonky.

Forde grumbles, but Seth looks all too eager to have him step away. “Anyway, no one is leaving for home, Eirika. Those eligible and willing to do so are simply changing clothes. In fact, Tana and I will have to do so shortly.”

“What for?” The question is echoed by L’Arachel, who is just as intrigued.

“Ooh!” Tana jumps with excitement. “We dress up as the Lord of the Hunt and the May Queen, to preside over the Midsummer Bonfire!”

I couldn’t remember if it was the God and Goddess, the May Queen and King, or the Green Man and Lady. So I just mashed them together. I DON’T THINK ANYONE MINDS.

“Exactly.” Innes looks a bit discouraged as he adds, “It is a very impressive costume, though I admit it is not horribly comfortable.”

“It’s only because of the giant stag mask,” Tana tells them.

They have winged horses in Frelia, so why wouldn’t they have giant stags? (Actually the mask would be carved out of wood, to be lighter than actual bone, but that’s still be really heavy and awkward. So yeah.)

“For comfort, or impressiveness?” Eirika asks.

“Both.”

Upon retrieving their clothes from Achaeus, who was stabled along with Syrene and Vanessa’s mounts near the inn where they all met up, a local woman is only too happy to lend them the use of her house while she leaves with her family for the Midsummer Bonfire.

I was going to have them leave their children in a crèche run by Frelian clerics where Natasha would volunteer, and possibly rope Joshua in, but that got written out. SO MANY IDEAS SO LITTLE SPACE

Tana ducks in with Eirika and Syrene, and after only a few minutes emerges in a filmy red dress with flowers woven into her hair and a long white shawl pinned over her shoulders.

I would have had Tana wearing an earasaid, which is traditional medieval Scottish wear, but there are like no pictures of it and taking shots in the dark when it comes to period clothing is not my favorite thing.

Innes waits until she is finished with minor adjustments before saying, in a tone as serious as they’d ever heard him use, “Tana. You did think to bring a spare for me, at least.”

And Innes’ plan is set into motion.

I think he also resembles an older Light Yagami, of Death Note fame. Less evil, of course, but more openly jerky.

“Yes, yes, of course!” She is too quick to reply. “I even packed them both separate from the mask. Won’t you forget about that already, Innes? It was three years ago!”

“What? What?” Joshua steps in.

For the first time in their history of knowing the Frelian prince, Innes is too embarrassed to speak. He attempts to hide it with a scowl first, then sinks his forehead into the palm of one hand. Tana sighs. Syrene is nice enough to answer for the both of them. “It was my lady’s first time carrying the costumes—she insisted—and while traveling part of Prince Innes’ costume caught on the mask and tore irreparably. We hadn’t thought to bring a spare then, so milord had to go throughout the festivities without a shirt.”

SEXY SHIRTLESS INNES. IN ONE OF THESE. Just scroll down until you see the picture, unless you really want to know how to put on a great kilt.

“Now please,” Innes nearly has to shout over howls of laughter, “Let us never speak of this again.”

“By the way, my brother will need assistance with the mask from his dearest male friends.”

“TANA!” Innes yells as he is swept into the house by all of ‘his dearest male friends.’

-
Everyone waits in silence for the first five minutes before falling to conversation amongst themselves—or, in the case of the children, clustering up in twos and threes again to play. Finally, Innes’ group files out of the house, with Joshua and Ephraim grinning as they steer the rather visibly-challenged prince between them. Seth, who had not joined them, gives a cursory head count and then pauses. “Where’s Forde?”

THIS IS IMPORTANT. EVERYONE PAY ATTENTION TO THIS VERY CAREFULLY. FORDE DISAPPEARING, WHEN I PUT HIM IN THE SPOTLIGHT LIKE SEVEN TIMES PREVIOUSLY, IS IMPORTANT.

“He…” As Ephraim speaks, Joshua rubs the back of his neck in a casual manner. This causes Natasha to raise an eyebrow at what she has learned is his trademark tell, and her gaze shifts discreetly to the door hanging ajar.

THIS IS ALSO IMPORTANT.

“He was delayed.”

“Oh, for cripes’ sake!” Gerik slurs. “He’s takin’ a piss.” Various expressions of womanly disgust take a moment to sink into the still-beer-soaked head of the mercenary leader. He adds, too late (though it probably wouldn’t have made much difference if it were on time), “Beggin’ your ladyships’ pardon.”

You: It’s been hours! Wouldn’t Gerik be sober by now?

The answer is yes, he would be… if it weren’t REALLY IMPORTANT.

(Also, he’s been drinking steadily so yeah.)

“Let’s go on ahead, then,” Tana decides. “He’ll catch up soon. Are you still mad at me, Innes?” The prince’s arms cross as he looks away, causing Ephraim to think fast in order to dodge the helmet. Natasha observes her husband’s face carefully and then shrugs as everyone follows Tana’s lead. Though she offers to guide her brother as she has done for the past few years, Joshua and Ephraim politely refuse.

We’re going to have a quiz on all the hints in this section. THEY ARE IMPORTANT HINTS.

“Gee, Ephraim. A lesser man might never live this down, don’t you think?”

“Be nice!” Eirika’s voice floats down from the front just before Ephraim can speak. Joshua is unnerved; he hadn’t spoken loud enough for his voice to carry and the noise level is growing as they approach the Midsummer Bonfire.

“How did she know?”

“You have twins of your own, don’t you?” Ephraim counters.

“Yeah, but they’re kids. They’re supposed to say weird things. Your sister’s a nice logical girl—what else can she do? What else can you do?”

Yeah, I have a twin sister and we freak people out by finishing each other’s sentences. I DON’T THINK IT’S WEIRD BUT OTHER NOT-TWIN-HAVING PEOPLE DO SO YEAH.

”I don’t know, and I’m not inclined to find out…”

With the large group well down the road, no one finds it odd to see a young man emerge from the deserted house wearing the white great-kilt particular to the Beltane festivities—not even with the hood drawn low over his face, and his strangely well-kept red boots.

In Forde’s official art his boots are… WAIT FOR IT:

*drumroll*

Red!

Without a shirt underneath it, his athletic physique draws most of the attention.

-
Several minutes earlier…

Throughout the teasing, laughter, and general ruckus the others are causing at his expense, Innes remains silent. This is to be expected, and while he changes clothes the conversation runs out of steam and changes to other subjects altogether.

Originally Innes would have been changing in an inn (LOL), but then I remembered that Beltane is equivalent to Mardi Gras and people travel from all over so it would have been really noisy and crowded. Sooooo, they just go to a random citizen’s empty house.

I put the guy-in-red-boots scene before the changing scene to try and create a feeling of suspense. I also assume that if you’re reading this, you have already read the original. If not, TOO BAD THERE ARE SPOILERS AHEAD.

Upon hearing the shift Innes clears his throat stiffly and attracts everyone’s attention once more.

“As loath as I am to say this to all of you, I must admit… that…” A confused silence replaces all the grins as Innes struggles, “I need… your… help.”

“Yeah, Tana mentioned that when—“

“It’s not about that!” The Frelian prince interrupts Joshua with something that may have resembled a bellow in a man less proud. “No! This is for something much more important.”

LIKE TRUE LOVE

Everyone exchanges glances that hold distaste and exasperation. Gerik sighs, somewhat less roaring drunk than before. “What’d I tell you, Boss? This ain’t a battle, it’s Beltane.”

“I am well aware of that. Sir Forde.” Innes tosses his spare great-kilt, along with the shirt that they just now realize he has forgone wearing, to the greatly confused paladin who catches it more from reflex out of anything. “I command you to put on this outfit, and do be prompt for once in your life. We have already wasted too much time.”

“Um.” Forde holds it gingerly. “I’m sure this is very important, Your Highness—but suppose it doesn’t fit me?”

“It will, more or less,” is Innes’ retort. “In case you haven’t noticed, Sir Forde, we are quite similar in height and build.”

Personally, I think Innes would be skinnier. He seems the sort to stress out. However, their hair is pretty similar too—Forde’s is just lighter, more golden brown and a little longer.

A second, more thorough look reveals that this observation is true. Joshua retreats a good three yards back from the prince, hands up in protest. “Stop right there, Innes—what in the name of Magvel are you planning?”

“I am planning to dress Sir Forde in my ceremonial clothes so that he may preside over the Midsummer Bonfire in my place.”

Everyone’s jaw drops, but Forde is the most astonished.

“You… you’re inhuman!” The paladin throws the outfit behind him, righteously indignant, and stomps over to face Innes directly. “I’ve always known you hated fun, joy, and merriment of all sorts, but this is a new low. I can’t believe you’re using me in this manner! Sacrificing my enjoyment along with yours, when I’m not even Frelian, in a cold-blooded, selfish ploy to dodge Beltane—the best holiday of the year!”

Now, the sexy precise italics are funny BECAUSE IT’S FORDE.

Being the same height as Forde and made of much less flappable stuff, Innes takes the tirade without so much as a blink. “I am not dodging Beltane.”

The calm statement, in the exact tone Innes would use yet still something no one in their wildest dreams would hear the prince say in this situation, is enough to dissipate Forde’s anger entirely. “What?”

Ephraim steps up. “With all due respect, Innes, that would mean… you were doing the opposite.”

“Yes.”

“Meaning, you are abdicating your rather defunct position as Lord of the Hunt to participate in Beltane as a regular person would.”

“That is what I am doing, Ephraim.”

“What’s more, you are going to do so anonymously, since not only does everyone in Frelia know your face but a good portion of our friends would recognize you from a distance.”

“I see you have exercised your intellect well since we last met. What else do you deduce?”

“…I believe you have done this before, Innes.”

I was going to have this go on for longer, but I decided this would be better. I hope no one got lost.

“Stop!” Gerik screams. “No more! I must’ve fallen into an ale vat had to drink my way out for this sort of crazy!”

“Calm yourself, Gerik,” Innes commands him. “You forget everyone else is waiting outside.”

“So, if this were true, Innes,” Ephraim continues with the gentleness one would usually reserve for speaking in front of a very ill child, “May I ask who it is you’re doing this for?”

The prince of Frelia sighs, and the silence that follows for several long moments is unbroken until Joshua snaps his fingers. “Carbrey.”

I couldn’t just have him say ‘Vanessa’ because Innes wouldn’t give up at least TRYING to keep things discreet. Also I had to give people clues as to Carbrey’s biological ties to Innes. And I still don’t think people got it.

“Yes, Carbrey is of the age where his mother would be hard-pressed to help him through the fire alone.”

Everyone groans at the careful phrasing. “Give it up, Boss,” Gerik tells him, good humor restored. “Although I got to ask if Vanessa knows...”

“Of course she knows,” Innes snaps. “Pairing up at the fire isn’t really anonymous and random unless you’re that sort of person, or naïve, or foreign, or just desperate.

This sentence was really fun to write.

Now Sir Forde—” The paladin has blanched, jaw agape.

This one too!

“Sir Forde! Put on that costume, now. If it’s any consolation, no one will expect you to say or do much of anything, and you’re supposed to change out of the helmet to rest every few hours or so. The tent by the bonfire has food, drink, and a bed—”

“Really?” Forde has the great-kilt on and is struggling with the helmet in a few minutes. “Why didn’t you say so?!”

Innes sighs. “You’re supposed to put the hood on first. Here.” He assists with the helmet while everyone watches in amazement, then pulls his own hood over his face.

Imagine Innes helping ANYONE do ANYTHING.

“I’ll have to linger for a while. Remember it’s Forde who’s hanging back, not me, and also make sure that one of you helps him with the helmet in the tent instead of Tana—”

“I think I’m pretty well-versed in keeping identities secret,” Joshua says. “We’re fine, Innes.”

IT’S FUNNY BECAUSE HE WASN’T DOING A VERY GOOD JOB OF IT

“Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before the fall.

This is the actual Bible passage, not the “Pride goes before a fall” that everyone seems to use. I thought Innes would be the sort to, you know, quote things correctly.

I would prefer to take no chances.”

-
Back to the present…

“Lute!” Joshua hisses. She has procured a book from within her voluminous robes, and does not seem to notice. “Lute!”

Kyle nudges her shoulder. “Dear, I think Joshua needs your help.”

“Ah. I had assumed the spirits were attempting to distract me from stumbling upon their secrets of arcane magics.” She closes the book and ties a black handkerchief around it with a white cord.

Paganism Fact: Black is a color that absorbs power (offensive), while white reflects power (defensive). I used to be really into Wicca and paganism in general, but I lost interest.

“I apologize. What is your query?”

“Lute, is there some way you can make the bonfire less… fiery?”

Lute digests the question, then asks, “I assume Natasha refuses to participate in the native ritual with you.”

“Yes. She also refuses to let me go with the twins.”

“Hmm.” The mage stares at the raging fire for a moment, then shakes her head. “With a regular bonfire, I would be able to reduce its flames to something more manageable at once, but this is made with copious amounts of the sacred woods and has centuries of tradition behind it. If you are willing to wait several weeks while I research and experiment—”

“No, no… Thanks, anyway.” He returns to his wife and children with a sigh. “Natasha, I just asked Lute if she could do anything to make it easier for us. Lute! See the lengths to which I go for you?”

“You may have convinced me to renounce my vows, move to Jehanna and marry you, but you cannot convince me to jump through a fire, or allow our children to do so under the assurance that it is ‘really, really fun.’”

BELTANE FACT:

“It’s not actually jumping through the fire!” Joshua points out. “It’s banked in the middle and we run over the coals—”

“No.”

The king of Jehanna crosses his arms and grumbles something, deep in one of his rare unhappy moods. Seth, who with Eirika had the privilege of being one of the first couples to pass through the bonfire, gives him a pat on the back while everyone else just smiles. As time goes by every one of their friends, wedded or not, goes through the bonfire and returns.

BELTANE FACT: Jumping through the fires is a ritual of health, protection, and fertility. Most people forget the first two, but children and cattle were traditionally carried/driven through it.

Vanessa, who is last, takes Carbrey and approaches the fire, though she hesitates for a moment and bends to say something to her son first. Syrene clucks in sympathy and stands up, brushing off her dress. “Just as I thought. He’s too big for her to help over the coals, and not fast enough to go through them on his own. Gilliam, I’m going to help her.”

“Hold, Dame Syrene!” L’Arachel declares. “It seems one of the hooded, shirtless young men from that crowd across the fire is going to your sister’s aid.”

Could this be… INNES???

They watch as said young man is overtaken by a somewhat taller figure with a more athletic physique and red boots.

LOL I FOOLED YOU (maybe)

L’Arachel squints at the latter. “Why… I do believe she knows him!”

They each take one of Carbrey’s hands, Vanessa seeming relieved and happy in a peculiarly familiar way, while the troubadour looks around.

“Say,” Joshua asks, with unusual spite. “Has anyone seen Forde at all tonight?”

There is a brief silence. Ephraim and Gerik deliver pointed glances to the swordmaster as Franz attempts to rationalize, “He used to help me through the Midsummer Bonfire when I was younger, and lots of other kids besides.

Awwwwwwwww.

He stopped after I got old enough, and also when one girl mistook him for my father.”

“Someone talking about my wondrous chivalry?” Everyone screams as Forde, dressed in his regular clothes, crops up behind Franz and Amelia.

“You did give me a fright, Sir Forde!” L’Arachel admonishes. “Where have you been?”

This is where I gave up with the thesaurus searching.

“Helping Innes with that blasted helmet of his!” Forde’s large grin is met with dagger-encrusted glares from Gerik, Joshua, and Ephraim while Tana narrows her eyes in suspicion (a rare emotion on the happy princess, and one that does not suit her entirely).

“I would think you’d be joining in on the festivities.”

“Well, I have outgrown such silly superstitions,” the knight says primly.

Forde: ALTHOUGH I AM FOREIGN I AM CERTAINLY NOT DESPERATE OR NAÏVE.

“Not to mention I helped myself to some of that delicious food in his tent. And the wine. Also I may have fallen asleep due to said wine—”

“Oh, go back and stuff your face, then!” Tana says.

I have to admit that my characterization of Tana is based mostly off my characterization of Rinoa Heartilly. NO UNSEXY OVERTONES INTENDED EVEN THOUGH HER BROTHER LOOKS LIKE SQUALL LEONHART

She sighs after Forde ambles back to the tent, out of earshot. “Well, Innes doesn’t eat much and the food is replenished while he’s out here, anyway. I was frightened for a minute, though!”

“So were we all, milady Tana,” Syrene tells her. “I don’t know where he would have gotten the great-kilt, anyway. No offense meant, Franz, but Forde is—” Franz shrugs. Vanessa reappears on the other side of the fire, glowing, with her two companions in tow. “All right, then. I’ll have to ask Vanessa who the lucky guy is. She hasn’t said a word to me.”

Huh, well, it looks like Syrene doesn’t listen to gossip.

“He appears to be a dashing, courtly young man with the ardent spirit only knights of legend possess!” From L’Arachel, of course.

Okay, I gave up a LITTLE on the thesaurus and then I went back.

Joshua snorts, which is unsurprising given his mood, and receives more glares. “Farmer, soldier, merchant, or unusually well-built poet,

I would have used troubadour, but they must be rather robust to ride around all the time and also they have magic so yeah.

I daresay he will be handsome and true towards Dame Vanessa and her son.”

Gilliam replies to the Rausten princess in his usual manner. “There’s many who seem handsome in the light of the fires and turn out to be regular lads in the morning—if they’re still there, that is.”

Geez, Gilliam, what a buzz-kill. TOTALLY NOT SEXY

Syrene gives her husband a smack on the shoulder and a warning look, as much as telling him to let Vanessa have a bold knight in shining armor for now. As the younger pegasus rider draws near, she deposits Carbrey with the other children and discreetly leaves. Though she keeps her head down, she does not have the benefit of a concealing hood and everyone sees that her face is quite flushed.

“I have to go,” Ephraim says, as if remembering something just at that moment. “Innes hasn’t come out yet, and… well, somehow I don’t think he’s getting any help from Forde.”

He’s not. Because Forde was Innes THE WHOLE TIME!

SET COURSE FOR WONDER

2009-09-05T19:43:31Z

The ~~DVD~~ Commentary Meme:

If you've ever watched your favorite dvds, and then found yourself eager to hear exactly what the actors, directors, writers and even production designers thought about making the episode, the movie, or whatever - you'll know sometimes the best parts of dvds are hearing the commentaries. Getting into an actor's feelings about the character they play, getting the background behind a writer's plans and metaphors, even just getting the stupid anecdotal stuff that makes you laugh, it's all good.

Ask me about any story, and I'll do a ~~DVD~~ commentary for it! Satisfy your curiosity!

WORST CONVERSATION EVER

2009-08-29T19:00:46Z

Have you ever had a conversation that segued into personal subjects, and you got really stressed out and said something that caused the other end to spiral into confusion?

And then, when you started to try to explain things it resulted in more misunderstandings?

And then after an hour you just walked away/hung up/disconnected because you realized there was no way of salvaging it?

And then, when you woke up the next day you had absolutely no idea what to say to possibly repair your friendship, and then realized that if said friend wouldn't even try to understand how you feel on those matters you might actually be better off not ever speaking to that person again?

Just putting it out there.

This emo shit was supposed to be for people who didn't have hats, OH WAIT

2009-08-28T23:53:48Z

Soooo, I quit my job today. I am really glad to get away from the heat and faceless masses and getting called to cover people at six-thirty in the morning, especially since one of my classes takes EIGHT HOURS. I will be missing the extra money, but I guess I could always go seasonal at the local fabrics store. They get swamped during Christmas and since my sister and best friend work there it wouldn't be absolutely the worst thing ever.

Not to mention, no possibility of oil spatter burns.

The first day of Fall!

2009-08-25T05:30:52Z

I like when it is chilly in the mornings. For one thing I can cheat a little and not put on sunscreen, because the clouds are like a lampshade over the sun! For another, I can stay in bed and not feel horribly exhausted.

:((((

2009-08-19T17:25:40Z

I think I'm ill. I have various aches and pains that won't go away, I woke up at nine o'clock but still want to sleep some more, and even though it's overcast I can't seem to decide whether it's too hot or too cold.

I HATE CROCHETING

2009-08-14T04:19:48Z

I spent two hours trying to crochet River's vest! And what do I have right now? A BALL OF SLIGHTLY CRUMPLED YARN BECAUSE I KEPT MESSING UP AND UNRAVELING IT.

Here's why I like knitting better:

1. There are exactly two stitches for knitting. Knit, purl, period.
---->There is only one motion you use to crochet a stitch, but it makes up by having a MIND-WRENCHING NUMBER OF VARIATIONS. Single, double, treble, quadruple, and so on.

2. When you knit/purl a stitch, you only have two ways to go. That's up, through an existing loop, and across the foundation chain. Like stacking bricks for a wall.
---->With crocheting you CAN stack bricks across the foundation like knitting, but you can also pile them so that they go in a circle. You can pile them like they go in a triangle. You can put bricks in other bricks, for god's sake.

3. You don't have to hold a piece of knitting to ensure speedy progress in the beginning.
---->I am still unsure as to how to hold my piece when it's just a chain with a couple of stitches on it.

4. Knitting is everywhere in the fashion industry, be it flashy and expensive or plain middle-class wear. Turtlenecks, ribbed cuffs, socks, hats, and so on. Even with mercerized cotton you get a fabric that is sturdy and fluid at the same time (re: my Rinoa duster). In other words, comfy without much effort.
---->Crocheting is notably NOT everywhere in the fashion industry. I think maybe one item of clothing I've seen in the past week had crocheted detail. It was a really expensive shirt made mostly from a linen or something (explaining the high price); only the hem and neckline had the crocheted lace on it, and those are places where you wouldn't really feel it against your skin.

5. Knitting uses needles. I know needles. They are used for one thing, and that is mainly attaching things to other things with thread. Suturing, sewing clothes, and so on. Good things, even if sometimes it is painful.
---->Hooks are used for catching fish and replacing severed hands. Are these good images? NO.

I hope I have an epiphany or something that enables me to have a better relationship with this craft, though I strongly believe that I will never crochet anything with the same glee in my heart that comes with knitting.

Who Comments The Most, on Leradny's LJ???

2009-08-10T05:34:11Z

I haven't posted a lot, and I know this doesn't really count since it's a meme. SORRY

Total comments: 443

1	leradny	141
2	trendy_rocker	38
3	grape_soda2	32
4	okroginator	27
5	quixotic___	24
6	renuki	22
7	senri	21
8	sacae	17
9	foxygirlchan	16
10	darigon	14
11	Anonymous	11
12	noxiaa	10
13	fairytaledreams	10
14	dameboudicca	7
15	wickedxxlovely	7
16	madstylzyo	6
17	fated_bliss	6
18	evandura	5
19	ronsard	5
20	pinumbra	4
21	crossoverqueen	3
22	boosette	3
23	karanguni	2
24	obabscribbler	2
25	summerkindofgrl	2
26	solielle	2
27	clearblacklines	2
28	kklepto	1
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30	bottle_of_shine	1
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