Author's Note:
7700 words, broke Reddit's character limit, so you know the drill. Will be split into two parts, both posted today. Enjoy!
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"Stop! STOP!"
The terror in Kismet's voice rose higher as death drew nearer. He fled from Rob's grasping hand, but a Purge Divinity-infused fingernail managed to graze him, carving out a scoop of divine essence as if flaying a mortal's skin.
Kismet let out a screech as the Purging energy added to his growing collection of scars. A dozen small holes now dotted the surface of his mana-body, looking like he'd been pockmarked by wasting disease. Each wound represented a moment where the god had narrowly escaped with his life.
If those injuries had been inflicted by any other ability, then he could have rejuvenated himself in the time it took to blink. Purging energy was not so kind as that. It was purifying wrath in the shape of a Skill; their vengeance given form. Whatever divinity it touched, it extinguished.
As if cleansing the universe of a sickness that had infected it for far too long.
The BERSERKER continued his unrelenting advance. In response, Kismet threw up a frantic barrier of mana. It was strong enough to deflect one of Ragnavi's Annihilation beams–
And Rob blasted through it like paper mache. His charge sent broken shards of energy scattering across the divine realms. More mid-air rifts tore open, the HUMAN's aura strangling the surrounding area in a vice grip of power. Purge Divinity seemed to glow with light emanating straight from the pits of hell.
None of which was anywhere near as unnerving as the murder contained within his piercing gaze. When Kismet met Rob's eyes, he saw the end of eternity fast approaching.
The god's next barrier was just as frantic. However, this one was not comprised of mana, but of solid matter. Kismet summoned the hardest, most dense substance known to the mortal realms, then transmuted it into something that otherwise could only have been forged inside the heart of a dying star. It was many times more durable than the impossibly tough walls of an aberrant Dungeon.
So when Rob demolished it with a single punch, he actually had to put a bit of elbow grease into his windup.
Another wall materialized in front of him. He crushed it, then the one after, and the one after that, lashing out with bestial ferocity. The BERSERKER plowed through Kismet's hastily-built defenses like a bulldozer of fists and savagery. Rob was knocking them down as quickly as the god could make them, relishing the sensation of being able to vent his anger on targets that weren't fucking running away.
Then the twelfth wall fell – revealing a monstrous, spiky, fanged behemoth concealed behind.
Rob paused, momentarily taken aback at the sight of a mundane creature within the divine realms. 'Mundane' in relative terms, anyway. This monster was on par with a newborn Blight, radiating power that would have sent ordinary fighters sprinting for the hills.
It was also barely cognizant of its surroundings. The monster stared at him with unblinking, vacant eyes, just the tiniest glimmer of awareness present in its gaze. Rob noted that segments of its flesh were bubbling, as if the creature was fresh out of the oven and still needed to settle.
He couldn't help but feel a modicum of pity. This was yet another thoughtless creation, condemned to existence by an uncaring maker. Even monsters deserved better than that.
Rob caved the beast's head in before it could realize that it was alive. Pity was not the same as hesitation, and this was the only mercy he could afford to grant right now.
Didn't matter. Kismet's pawn served its purpose. In the brief instant that Rob spent getting over his initial surprise, the god had teleported to safety. He was already planning his next stunt that could buy him a few precious seconds of survival.
The HUMAN grimaced as he turned to give chase, unable to suppress the burgeoning sense of unease growing within his chest.
It almost didn't seem fair to feel that way. Rob knew he was winning – at least on the surface. Any outside observer would've bet their life savings on him, especially after the show of overwhelming superiority he'd just displayed. Kismet had been at a disadvantage before Never Forget Your Rage's recent upswing, and now it was no contest. Rob was confident that he would still be stronger even if the eight gods merged into one super-deity.
He also knew that he was living on borrowed time.
Whenever he moved, or activated a Skill, or even breathed...the sensation was there. Strength accompanied by incongruous frailty. Like background noise that kept getting louder with every action he took. His body felt close to pulling itself apart, as if his very molecules were a hairsbreadth away from coming undone.
It was different from Soul Instability. Whereas that threatened to collapse his soul, this frailty was an affliction of the flesh. The longer he fought, the more his physical form was at risk of popping like a balloon.
Such was the price of constraining godlike power within a mortal shell.
"Stay back!" Unaware of the turmoil fermenting in his assailant's mind, Kismet threw up his hands and...inverted...space? Rob didn't have a name for what he was seeing. Rather than stopping to puzzle out this latest brand of divine bullshit, he sent out a pulse of Purge Divinity, canceling whatever esoteric effect Kismet had been attempting to produce.
His Purging energy scraped against the divine realms like a cheese grater. Five rifts immediately tore open near both Rob and Kismet, with the god anxiously retreating from one that appeared just inches away from him. A low rumble echoed around them, and for a moment, they felt struck by an abrupt feeling of vertigo – until the realms gradually stabilized, righting once more.
For now.
Rob eyed the rifts with a detached, clinical gaze. An endless sea of mana resided behind them; the bedrock of the system itself. While he recognized that the rifts tearing open was bad news, he also couldn't really muster the energy to care. Between his overflowing rage, overtaxed body, and overburdened soul, minor details like the impending destruction of reality were hard to give much focus.
There was a way to fix all of that, of course. Rob couldn't outright deactivate Never Forget Your Rage – not without losing its bonus stats. But he could attempt to ease the storm of fury in his heart. By lessening his anger to more reasonable levels, Never Forget Your Rage would put less strain on both his body and the divine realms.
The notion forced a peal of hideous laughter to claw out of his throat. Lessen his anger? He'd have better luck trying to douse a volcano with a garden hose. No. For a wildfire that had grown this out of control, the only thing to do was stand aside and let it burn, burn, burn.
Until naught remained.
"I said stay back!" Kismet bellowed. He lifted his arms into the air. "Begone!" One moment later, Rob's vision was filled with scorching light. An apocalyptic geyser of mana burst forth from underfoot, intense and searing. It stripped the flesh from his bones in no time flat, powering through Almighty Resistance with pure, unmitigated violence.
And it still wasn't fast enough. Rob flickered a Purge Divinity shield for just an instant, allowing him to escape the geyser with his upper body – and most of his HP – intact. Lifesurge swiftly patched him up, leaving both combatants right back where they'd started.
Slowly, Kismet lowered his hands. They were shivering. "What are you?" he whispered. "Why are all my efforts in vain?"
To be honest, Rob was mildly impressed that Kismet had held on for this long. The god's combat efficacy was increasing as time passed, improving from panic-spamming teleports to more inventive maneuvers – as if he was learning how to fight on-the-job. He'd also stopped draining the other gods to supplement his power, having found an alternative source of fuel: mana seeping out from the sporadically-opening rifts.
It was the one silver lining to fighting an implacable BERSERKER so powerful that he fractured reality. Whenever Rob utilized Purge Divinity, more rifts opened up in the realms, and more mana leaked out from inside. The gods had invested that energy into the system millennia ago, and it typically would've been off-limits until they closed up shop and left Elatra. Kismet was making use of it now, absorbing the extra mana to strengthen himself, like a lifeline barely keeping him afloat.
The god's tenacity was...calling it 'admirable' would be going too far, but it did warrant a sort of begrudging respect. As someone who'd tangoed with multiple Blights, Rob knew what it was like to square off against a frenzied beast that could end him with a touch.
Being the scary one was a nice change of pace.
In exchange, Kismet had graciously donned the role of their battle's Combat Class user; fragile, outgunned, and pulling improvised maneuvers out of his ass for a chance at victory. The god could finally feel what it was like to be vulnerable. How exciting! Rob was more than happy to assist. Learning experiences such as these only came around once an eternity or so.
Flippancy aside – while Kismet still possessed room for improvement, this was the most that could be asked of a deity who hadn't seen combat in literal eons. His biggest fuckup had been taunting Rob in the wrong ways, but he couldn't have known about Never Forget Your Rage, that was an excusable oversight. By all other accounts, Kismet was performing adequately.
Even so...
"YoU aRE noTHinG."
The sound of Rob's voice caused two fresh rifts to open up. Kismet flinched, casting a teleportation spell out of pure reflex. Without pause, the HUMAN resumed his hunt.
Nothing. Perhaps that statement was hyperbole – yet it rang true nonetheless. While Kismet may have been a creature of supreme divinity, on the field of battle, his pedigree meant nothing. In the face of an implacable, unstoppable foe, his power was worth nothing. Very soon, he would be nothing, consigned to oblivion by Purging energy.
Rob couldn't help but unfavorably compare Kismet to the final Blight. Weren't these supposed to be two sides of the same coin? Each one-half of an original transcendent Will? Yet the Second Will had brought Rob to the edge of despair...and Kismet was fleeing like a cornered rodent. It was difficult to reconcile the two divinities as theoretical equals.
Although he knew that was an unfair comparison. Rob had fought the Blight before learning Limit Break and Never Forget Your Rage. Kismet wasn't weak.
The HUMAN was just far too strong.
If he rematched the Second Will today, he would beat it to death with his bare hands.
"Look at what you've wrought!" Kismet swept an arm out, gesturing towards some of the many rifts that Rob's presence was tearing open. "Do you understand what will transpire if you persist in this folly?! If the divine realms shatter, then so will all of Elatra! You are on the brink of destroying everything which you have striven to protect! Cease this–"
"CAN'T."
In a flash, Rob dashed forward and scooped out a chunk of the god's mana-body with Purge Divinity. Before he could do more, Kismet shrieked with pain and teleported away, leaving the BERSERKER to crush his prize between five clenched fingers.
"FoRCed mY HAnD." He located Kismet again. "NO GOING BACK."
Stopping wasn't an option. If the divine realms crumbled and Elatra imploded...well, that would be a faster end than what the gods had in store for its people. At least this way their deaths would be quick and hopefully painless – and his friends wouldn't be turned into Skills tortured for all eternity.
Still, Kismet did have a point. Destroying reality wasn't exactly the ideal outcome. There had to be a way to speed up the conclusion of their fight. Rob was certain he would win if given enough time, but he couldn't guarantee it would be before either his body or the divine realms collapsed.
{Ascend.}
Like a snake slithering through a minefield, Leveling High skirted past the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions raging within Rob's mind. He attempted to tune out its voice, yet Humanity's curse refused to be denied, the static loudening until he was compelled to respond. Quit distracting me, he snapped. In case you haven't noticed, I'm FUCKING. BUSY.
{You seek to ensure victory over those who rule above,} Leveling High continued, without missing a step. {As do I.}
Then sit back, shut up, and–
{Ignoring your deficiencies will not make them disappear. This body is...feeble. Incomplete. Unfit to wield the power contained therein. Like a polished sword attached to a brittle hilt, liable to snap in twain at any moment.}
Rob grit his teeth. He couldn't deny Leveling High's assertions. Normally he'd just tell it to piss off, but considering how much was at stake here...
With a feeling like he'd sat down to deal with the devil, Rob sighed. Then what do you propose? That we upgrade my body somehow? I don't think putting more points into Vitality would help, even if I had any to spare. Me being so juiced up on stats is half the problem.
It shook its head. {You have far surpassed the limitations of mortality. Strengthening your power further would be akin to pouring water into an overflowing cup.}
So we...what, increase the size of the cup?
Static akin to laughter echoed inside his head. {We do away with it entirely.}
An icy chill began creeping up Rob's spine, as if the cold hands of fate were working their way towards his neck. He recalled a system notification from days before – 'Your Race has morphed from Human (?) to: Ascending HUMAN'.
Not Ascended. Ascending.
Weeks-old memories came surging to the forefront. 'The Heartkiller is closer to our form of life than those you call friends,' the Blight-child of Elysium had once said. 'As long as you continue to live, eventually, you will become an existence with the power to crush the Others and free the Skills from their shackles. You are no longer one of the Ephemeral. Now, you are a cocoon, metamorphosing into something grander. When you emerge, you will be as the Eternal.'
The Blight-child had laughed at him, then. 'After joining us, preserving these worlds will no longer be your desire.'
Rob grimaced. Denied, he flatly told Leveling High. Whatever you're about to suggest isn't happening.
It scoffed at him. {Your prejudices blind you. Do you think the gods have need of physical bodies? Does it hinder them in any capacity? No – the opposite. By definition, infinity cannot be constrained. Discard this useless flesh, and your conquest of the divine realms is assured.}
Maybe you didn't hear me when I said–
{By all means. Spurn my counsel...and condemn your friends to death. Shall their lives be worth it, in the end?}
Rob sucked in air through clenched teeth.
{Ascend.} Leveling High purred with anticipation. {You are bound by a prison of meat, bone, and blood. Break free. Finish what has already begun. Gaze upon the tapestry of infinity in all its dreadful splendor. Seize victory not as a Human, but as a completed, transcendent HUMAN.}
With a scream to drown out the static, Rob chased after Kismet again and again. The god was in full-on panic mode, eschewing offensive attacks in favor of perpetual retreat, focused wholly on keeping the BERSERKER as far away as possible. He would teleport the instant that Rob laid eyes on him, frantically stalling for his life.
It was – quite unintentionally – providing evidence to Leveling High's claims. If Kismet was on the defensive, catching him would take time they might not have.
I... Rob narrowed his eyes. How would I finish Ascending, anyway? It isn't like I can just flip a switch and make it happen.
{Incorrect.}
He blinked. WHAT?
{You have long since achieved the qualifications for true godhood,} Leveling High explained, in a lecturing tone. {There is no milestone that remains necessary to achieve. Rather than needing to overcome some hurdle of strength or power, the obstacle barring your path is more...arbitrary. Self-imposed.}
Humanity's curse seemed to peer into his soul. When it spoke next, its voice was filled with disgust. {You remain mortal because you wish to do so – both consciously and subconsciously. The Ascension of a nascent deity has been obstructed by cheap sentimentality.}
Rob almost started an argument over its usage of 'cheap', but he exercised restraint, keenly aware that there was bigger fish to fry. Can't do anything about the subconscious. I am \not* activating Melancholy Resistance.*
{Nor should you,} Leveling High remarked, shuddering at the prospect. {A grand statement of intent will be sufficient to shift your mentality. I believe...yes.}
The static churned like a hive of buzzing wasps. {When you next tear off a piece of the leader god's mana...even if just a sliver...devour it. Gorge yourself on their essence.}
Bile threatened to rise to the top of Rob's throat. Seems excessive, he mused, trying and failing to keep his tone lighthearted. To become a god, I eat a god? Wouldn't that make me a divine cannibal?
{You ARE a cannibal.} Leveling High's voice wavered, its veneer of helpfulness slipping to reveal the madness that lay beneath. {What do you think you've been DOING for nearly a YEAR? You kill, ingest your prey's Experience, and MAKE THEIR POWER YOUR OWN. This world is one of consumption and parasitism – devouring a god's essence is merely a more HONEST variant of THE SAME actions.}
...You clearly weren't paying attention during Diplomacy's PR lessons. Rob pursued Kismet once again, pressing his fingernails into his palms when the god hurriedly teleported away. There is such a thing as being too straightforward. If you want people to listen to you, then maybe dress up your words so they don't sound so horrifying.
{BUT AM I WRONG?}
Rob had no answer to that.
Bolts of divine mana peppered his skin. Kismet had barely managed to squeeze an attack in-between his escapes. The bolts ricocheted off Rob's skin like ping-pong balls, leaving minor scrapes and nothing more. It wasn't anywhere close to bypassing Almighty Resistance and his massive HP pool.
Yet it also reminded him of the mana-spears that Kismet had sent towards the rest of Riardin's Rangers. His Party members only possessed a shared, diluted version of Almighty Resistance, and their HP was a fraction of his. If Kismet aimed another attack of that caliber at them...how many would perish, right then and there?
Was Leveling High correct? What point was there to sentimentality if it just got his friends killed?
In truth, Rob knew that it didn't really matter if he completed his Ascension. Based on what he had planned for himself after the gods were dead, little would change either way. Still...he also knew that Ascending would be a one-way trip. No take-backs. If he went through with it, a fundamental part of him would be irrevocably altered.
Something twinged in a corner of his mind. It wasn't Leveling High, or his rage, or any of the other emotions currently dominating his headspace. This was a familiar friend; perhaps Rob's #1 most trusted confidant since he'd first set foot in Elatra. One that had rarely ever steered him wrong.
Paranoia.
And at the moment, it was telling him to be very careful before jumping into the deep end.
Ten teleports.
{What?}
Give it ten more Kismet teleports, Rob said. If I haven't dealt him a serious injury by then....I'll do what I need to do. He grimaced as Kismet vanished before he'd even finished the thought. Ten starting now.
Leveling High's static quieted. It resembled a patron at a restaurant who'd ordered their meal, and was waiting patiently for the main course to arrive.
Rob didn't waste time being offended over its nonchalance. Free of distractions, he immediately swept his gaze across the divine realms, pinpointing his quarry in a micro-instant. The BERSERKER dashed forward, pushing his body as far as he could, layering Rampages on top of Dexterity that made the laws of physics want to curl up and weep.
Kismet was prepared. He'd drawn more mana from the fractured rifts, quickening his speed and reactions. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep his head above water, not yet outpaced by their continually escalating arms race.
The HUMAN struck, the god fled, and both were left in the same position as before.
{One.}
Rob turned on a dime, charging without needing to look. He'd heard the moment that Kismet's teleport ended. It afforded him a split-second head start.
A gravity well suddenly appeared below his feet, as if a miniaturized black hole was weighing him down. Apparently, Kismet had set it up ahead of time as a just-in-case trap. Rob pierced through the spell's area of effect before it could ramp up to something dangerous, but his pace was slowed by a hair in the process, and his prey escaped.
{Two.}
You know what? Screw this. Rob whirled away from Kismet's newest location and blasted straight towards one of the lesser deities that his Party members were fighting.
He'd been too hung up on getting even with a hated foe – when there were seven other juicy morsels for him to play with. This way, Kismet would either sit back and watch as his allies were massacred, or the god would be forced to act instead of running like a goddamn cowar–
Sense Mana alerted Rob to magic gathering behind.
Pivoting, he leapt into the air. Rob superimposed himself in front of Kismet, bodyblocking the rainstorm of destructive mana that was about to be unleashed upon Riardin's Rangers.
Due to his swift response, the attack was released early. A simple Purge Divinity shield prevented him from incurring any damage. Rob still felt no sense of triumph as the mana dissipated around him. He just wasn't fast enough to kill the lesser gods and protect his Party at the same time – or at least not fast enough that he should gamble their lives on it.
Kismet disappearing a moment later didn't help matters either.
{Three.}
Frontal assaults weren't guaranteed to succeed, and targeting the other gods was a no-go. Could he take Kismet by surprise? Increase his Dexterity?
Rob contemplated mining Never Forget Your Rage for more stats, but swiftly vetoed the idea. His body was already struggling to hold itself together. Putting additional strain on a shaky foundation seemed...unwise.
Plus – at the risk of eating crow in the near future – he didn't actually think it was possible to feel angrier at the gods than he was right now. Seriously, what was left?
He hated them for sending him to a fantasy deathworld. He hated them for tormenting his friends and family. He hated them for being partially responsible for the Blight. He hated them for what they'd done to Elatra and Earth. He hated them for all the lives they'd stolen. He hated them for being the living embodiments of indifference and cruelty. He hated that they fostered good PR among the people they oppressed. He hated how monsters of such craven hypocrisy were also immeasurably powerful. He hated the sensation of divine mana crawling on his skin. He hated the unsettling sound of their voices. He hated their bizarre formless appearances. He hated them for being pompous pricks. He hated whenever they tried to relate to him. He hated whenever they didn't.
Most of all, he hated that they were still alive.
Even if he found out that they'd personally antagonized him since birth or some petty nonsense like that, it wouldn't measure up to the litany of transgressions they'd committed thus far. The blazing inferno within his soul could burn no hotter. Should burn no hotter. For his sanity's sake, if nothing else.
Kismet teleported. It wasn't in response to anything. He'd merely anticipated some sort of action – and was then baffled afterwards when he noticed the rampaging BERSERKER standing quietly in deep thought.
{Four.}
Rob advanced. While he didn't have a plan yet, he'd also learned that if he gave Kismet the slightest amount of breathing room, bad things tended to happen.
Can any of my Skills give me an edge? Unfortunately, he didn't think so. As usual, his lack of ranged options was biting him in the ass when it mattered most. Almost everything he could use required getting in close – which was the whole freaking problem – and none would be more effective than Purge Divinity, regardless.
Maybe I could set up a Waymark point, then catch Kismet's teleport with one of mine...no, that won't work either. The odds of him popping in next to a random Waymark point are slim. Could fill the battlefield with lots of Marks, but even then I have to consider the Skill's activation time. With my current Dexterity, it'd honestly be faster just to run at him.
The vast majority of his abilities simply weren't up to par in a clash with divinity. Limit Break, Purge Divinity, and Never Forget Your Rage had been specifically designed by the Skills to facilitate deicide. Something like Power Slash couldn't possibly compare to jailbroken stats and a touch of death.
As an act of defiance against his own logic, he cast Enmity, the only ability that could feasibly hit Kismet at range. The god casually shrugged off its effect before promptly escaping.
{Five.}
Like a frustrated animal, Rob snarled and gave chase. Just need to keep trying. Kismet isn't perfect.
{Six.}
Sooner or later, he's going to mess up.
{Seven.}
He's going to mess up.
{Eight.}
HE HAS TO MESS UP.
Suddenly, Kismet transformed his right hand into a blade of mana. With one harsh motion, he sliced open his own left arm.
By now, Rob had conditioned himself to never stop moving forward, even if something shocked him – which this sight very much did. His mouth dropped open, and Leveling High paused in the middle of eating its metaphorical popcorn. They still kept advancing without an iota of hesitation.
And ran straight into the mana cloud leaking out from Kismet's wound.
Rob blinked, opening his eyes to a wonderful day. The twisting plains looked dazzlingly beautiful, with fauna and plantlife lit by rays of effervescent light from the twin stars shining above. People cheerfully went about their day, happily shaking their trunks in shows of greeting, or rattling their scales to initiate merry games.
All was at peace.
Until – in unison – everyone froze. The tumult of life went quiet in an instant, replaced with pensive silence.
As if they'd been struck by the creeping, pervasive sensation of being watched.
A sound rang out. Half of them immediately fell over dead, fluids gushing from their ruined bodies.
The survivors could only lay there, crippled and in pain, as more people slowly rose into the air. Invisible fingers seemed to pluck them from the ground – and then began ripping off their limbs, one at a time, like a child dissecting butterflies–
Rob dragged himself back to the present.
It had taken much less time than before to recognize what was happening. Now that he knew what to expect, experiencing the remnant souls' lives wasn't so different from the dreamlike quality of an Attunement vision. Although...realizing that he'd witnessed the end of a world preceding Elatra did cause his thoughts to hitch for a single moment.
Which was just enough for Kismet to forge a spear of mana, then send it plunging through Rob's eye, skull, and brain. Its tip was forged to shred anything it touched, no matter how durable or Resistant.
The god whooped with glee – only to wince as the HUMAN's sole reaction was a long, drawn-out sigh. With an air of exasperation, he reached up and yanked the divine spear free with a nauseating splorch.
His eye had been reduced to a seeping red mess. He closed its eyelid. When he opened it again, the orb within had already Regenerated, now sporting an unamused glare.
It was something of a unique moment. Mid-battle events didn't typically leave both combatants feeling disheartened. The all-powerful god was losing faith that he could ever hope to stop Rob's onslaught...
And the BERSERKER didn't know if he could justify continuing on like this. His body still felt like it was pulling itself apart; if anything, the sensation was growing more pronounced as their battle progressed. While Kismet would make a fatal mistake eventually, Rob couldn't guarantee that he would last long enough to capitalize on it.
Unless he followed Leveling High's advice and–
With a howl that shook the divine realms, Rob launched his stolen spear at Kismet. His aim was true, yet it sailed through empty air, the god's afterimage tauntingly fading away.
{Nine.}
Final chance.
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Link to Part 2

Evergreen, a rather welcoming name. Perfect for a land full of calm, peace and beauty. Evergreen in this case is the name of a vast kingdom. This kingdom is an incredibly complicated but majestic land and its people as well. Now sit back, relax and enjoy as I tell you about Evergreen.
First of all, where did Evergreen come from? Well the most early evidence of anyone living here was over 8000 years ago though if you truly think about it it could be as far back as 50 000 years. You see, the oldest trace of civilization in the kingdom is a large ancient hotel in the center of Heatherlea. No other building outdated this and that record is still held up to this day. The actual date of foundation of the kingdom is completely unknown and absolutely no one can tell when it could ever be because of the incredibly vague amount of information on anything before the recorded history of Evergreen. Though not everyone is so clueless, one person may know the answer on the timeline and that is The One Hundred.
You may be asking who this One Hundred person is. He is the oldest person in Evergreen and supposedly some sort of God. Very little is known about him but all that is known is whoever this person is, they are the most powerful in the kingdom.
Now I think you’ve heard enough about the kingdom itself and the basics on it now why don’t we get to work on actually unraveling this massive mystery. But with so many things to explain, how can this ever have an order? Well that’s very easy to do, this is a catalog of everything to know on the topic of Evergreen. Let’s begin.
Cities of Evergreen
Evergreen is the main city of the kingdom, it is used as a capital as well as the largest megalopolis of the city. Though in Scriptorium, the language of Evergreen, they don’t have terms for city, megalopolis or metropolis. So to them everything is a settlement, village or town. In this kingdom the size of a village does not matter only its population and Evergreen having over 1 000 000 people living in it, it’s considered the largest village in the kingdom. Which is quite a fitting label for the capital of such a large kingdom. Though not only Heatherlea contains an important building. Evergreen has the Main Hall and Steffy’s Mansion, both constructions are very important because they contain Aletine. Aletine is a rare gem that will be explained later on but for now all you need to know on Aletine is that it is very rare and very precious. The buildings each have an arch constructed fully of this material.
The whispers of Evergreen
Not everyone in Evergreen is happy with what they know about the kingdom. Certain things are very secretive and though on the outside it seems like a perfect place it is shrouded in mystery and entangled in a web of unknown like a huge tapestry of mystery. The people of the villages are mostly happy with how everything is going except for one thing. They want to know more about the village’s origin. You see, Steffy, The One Hundred, Heathotel and Aletinian do not want too much information to escape into the public’s hands. A disquiet hums beneath the seemingly idyllic surface of Evergreen. Whispers flit through bustling marketplaces, hinting at an enigmatic past shrouded in secrecy. Kept under lock and key by Steffy and the other main powers of Evergreen, the population never ceases to speculate what they could be hiding. Is it a secret civilization before us? Or could it be that Aletine is the secret to the lost time? No matter what the citizens say not one word has been spoken by anyone in control. And there is a good reason behind all of that which will be explained later on.
Architecture and style of Evergreen and it’s settlements
A warped image of Evergreen is fabricated when you dig deeper than what’s on the idyllic surface of Evergreen. But the kingdom is still a majestic land. Its architecture is primarily biomimicry as the villagers are very connected to their surroundings and the flora that they share the world with. The respect for nature in Evergreen is reflected everywhere, in the architecture, in the culture, celebrations and many more subtle depictions. The style that the land has adopted over the millenia is a very calming one, they believe in living life to its fullest so the architects try to make things as pleasant to live in as possible in almost every way possible. You will never find any hostile architecture in the city as its capital status means that it must show a good example for the other settlements to follow. However, the pervasive calmness of Evergreen's architecture raises questions. Could this serene aesthetic be a deliberate ploy? Is biomimicry a way to mask the secrets hidden beneath the tranquil surface? The One Hundred, with their knowledge of the lost civilization and the interdimensional threat, may have a vested interest in maintaining this facade of idyllic peace. Steffy, with his atmosphirec gem of unknown origin, might also find solace in the calming influence of these biomimicry structures. No one can know for sure but until more is learned why not enjoy centuries of perfected design and let the peacefulness wash over you as you stroll through the markets and quiet neighborhoods of the town.
The rest of the settlements
Evergreen does not have that many large towns, only about 4 main ones, Evergreen, Azalea, Heatherlea and Islafield. Those main towns are surrounded by much smaller ones but the main focus is on the four towns above.
Islafield
Islafield is, as the name suggests, mostly for farming hence the ‘field” in its name. The town is near a lake also named Isla The lake is used for fishing as well as a way to water the crops of the town. This majestic town is the main source of nourishment for the entire kingdom with 60% of its land consisting of fields and crops. The kingdom contains 5.6 million inhabitants which is a vast amount of mouths to feed and according to the way Steffy wants to run the kingdom, everyone should have the same chance with life per se he just doesn’t want anyone to starve or die before their time that is the primary reason why he allowed Islafield to become such a large producer of food. He would usually want people to get their produce from the same town in which they live in though since he has 5.6 million people to feed he made the exception that Islafield can export its harvest to the other towns. Other than the beautiful fields of flowers and crops Islafield doesn’t really hold much interest in the eye of the population of Evergreen. Though it is considered the most naturally beautiful town in the kingdom, its beauty does not help it much with population, it has been on a decline ever since the vault of Aletine became public knowledge. Perhaps the Aletinians, a secretive cult entrusted with crafting tools made of Aletine, might hold knowledge about this strange and sudden decline. Despite the dwindling population, Islafield remains a vital part of Evergreen. However, its idyllic facade now masks a layer of intrigue, begging the question: is Islafield truly just a farming town, or is it a cornerstone in a larger, undisclosed operation of the Aletinians?
Heatherlea, a town of beauty and intrigue
Heatherlea, nestled in Evergreen's north, throbs with a unique energy.This bustling town transforms into the kingdom's prime tourist destination during warmer months, welcoming an influx of 700,000 visitors. The undeniable allure? The enigmatic Ancient Hotel, an 8000-year-old structure, the oldest human-made wonder in Evergreen. However, Heatherlea's charm extends beyond the Ancient Hotel.,underneath the ancient hotel hides a vault. The most secure place in the entire kingdom. Inside of that vault is a supply of Aletine. Since Aletine is only found in that singular spot underneath the hotel a vault was built around the mine to keep everyone out of there given how precious Aletine is.Other than its main attractions, its marketplace features the kingdom's tallest stand, showcasing the rare blue and orange Heatherberry. Yet, the exclusivity of these berries in Heatherlea raises questions. Found primarily in the south, their presence here seems curiously deliberate. Is it simply a marketing ploy, or could it be part of a larger scheme? Heatherlea's vibrancy and tourist appeal are undeniable, but a disquieting question lingers: is it a genuine haven, or a meticulously crafted facade designed to distract from the secrets buried beneath the surface?
Azalea, a town shrouded in floral mystery
Azalea is known for one reason, if you look closely at its name you will notice that it contains the name of a flower. Azalea is named after the rhododendron by the same name, Azalea. This specific flower only grows in the town for unknown reasons and once again the reason for the flower's appearance in this one part of the kingdom is gatekeeped by the main powers The One Hundred, Steffy with his atmosphirec gem, and the Aletinians, each with their vested interests in the mysteries of Evergreen, all seem particularly invested in keeping the reason for the Azalea's exclusivity under wraps. Intriguingly, Azalea attracts a disproportionate number of Aletine sellers, who use the flower's beauty to showcase their wares. Why this specific town, rather than a more prominent location? Could there be a connection between the Azalea's unique properties and the Aletine gem? The motives of the sellers remain shrouded in secrecy, adding another layer to the mysteries swirling around Azalea and deepen the mystery of Evergreen.
Shadows in Evergreen: Unveiling the Kingdom's Cults
Evergreen's power structure extends beyond the readily apparent figures like Steffy and The One Hundred. Shrouded in secrecy, a network of cults weaves its influence through the kingdom. While some, like the Aletinians, maintain a relatively benign presence, crafting tools from the enigmatic Aletine, others operate with a more veiled agenda. The Heathotels, shrouded in mystery themselves, stand out for their potential hostility. Their enigmatic purpose and unknown connection to the Aletinians, an exclusive society rumored to possess knowledge on the craftsmanship of Aletine weapons, fuel speculation about their true motives. Do they cover the Aletine's power for their own gain, or are they safeguarding Evergreen from a yet-unknown threat? The secrecy surrounding these cults casts a long shadow, leaving the question unanswered: are they guardians or hidden dangers lurking within the kingdom's idyllic facade? The Heathotels: Enigmatic guardians of the ancient stone The heathotels are a mostly harmless cult. They are in charge of the protection of the Ancient Hotel and are the only ones who have full access to the vault containing all the Aletine. They seem to worship the hotel itself and treat Aletine adorned objects with the same respect as they would do to Steffy himself. They are highly secretive with the reasons on why they respect the precious stone so much and what connection they seem to have with the ancient hotel. While the other power players, like The One Hundred and Steffy himself, strive to keep the Heathotels' activities shrouded, their efforts only heighten the intrigue. This raises the question, if the Heathotels are truly a benign force, why such a concerted effort to conceal their practices? The Heathotels' enigmatic presence throws a long shadow, leaving the question unanswered: are they protectors of the Aletine and the Ancient Hotel, or are they guardians of a far deeper secret? The Aletinians: Sworn Crafters of Aletine Wonders Among Evergreen's enigmatic factions, the Aletinians occupy a distinct position. Eschewing the rigid structure of traditional cults, they follow a oath instead of a set of rules.The specifics of this oath remain a closely guarded secret, fueling endless whispers and speculation. The Aletinians, as their name suggests, possess a unique bond with Aletine. Interestingly they do not worship the Aletine but instead they treat it with reverence, viewing it less as an object and more as a potent material.The true purpose of the Aletinians is to forge everything that is created out of Aletine. They are hand picked, allegedly to safeguard the kingdom's precious Aletine supply, to ensure the safety of the kingdom’s supply of this majestic gem they can only be of a certain sanity. Once again the villagers have their own theories, whispers abound about an Aletine-infused substance used in the selection process, a method to ensure only the "worthy" wield the gem's power.Though to be granted the incredible privilege of handling Aletine directly is very prestigious as only 30 people have the privilege of handling the precious Aletine. But many things are still unclear with them as well. Why do these artisans operate outside the Ancient Hotel, traveling all the way to Azalea to practice their craft? And why, despite their seemingly benign nature, does Steffy strive to keep them hidden from the public eye? The Aletinians remain a captivating enigma, their purpose and connection to Azalea hinting at a deeper role within Evergreen's veiled secrets. The Nevergreen: Shadows Reaching for Forbidden Power In stark contrast to the Aletinians, who utilize Aletine for crafting, stands the enigmatic Nevergreen cult. Driven by a sinister agenda, they seek to weaponize the gem's power, a truth known only to Steffy and The One Hundred. Whispers abound of their attempts to breach the Aletine mine's containment, a reckless act that some speculate triggered a deadly conflict, the War Of Gods, shrouded in secrecy. Steffy himself, it seems, remains unaware of the Nevergreen's potential role in this ancient war. He and The One Hundred instead attribute it to a nebulous embodiment of darkness. The Nevergreen also strive to make the deepest secrets of Evergreen public knowledge. They are the reason why the Aletine vault became known to the villagers of Evergreen. The One Hundred and Steffy tried to cover it up by saying that the villagers deserved to know the truth of where the Aletine came from. But in reality it was an elaborate plan birthed by the leader of the Nevergreen. The identity of the Nevergreen's leader is a captivating mystery. Villagers whisper of a connection to Steffy's ancient enemy, this enigmatic embodiment of darkness. They are also rumored to have connections to the mysterious interdimensional threat looming over the kingdom, a danger only The One Hundred seems fully aware of. This raises the question, if The One Hundred knows everything about Evergreen, why do they still remain passive? Are they truly guardians, or are they somehow entangled within the complex web woven by the Nevergreen?
Gleams of Forbidden light and beauty Aletine, gem of untold power Aletine, a captivating gem shrouded in mystery, sits at the heart of Evergreen's enigmatic power structure. Its existence fuels whispers, speculation, and a fierce struggle for control amongst the kingdom's secretive factions. Here, we delve into the mystery concerning this precious stone. First of all, what are the origins of Aletine? Evergreen's bustling streets are rife with speculation regarding Aletine's origins. Villagers, known for their colorful theories, theorize that it is a form of interdimensional material, arrived here at the mysterious cataclysmic event that destroyed everything. Rumors abound of a ripped veil between dimensions, spewing Aletine into Evergreen while leaving devastation in its wake. While most of these village tales are dismissed as mere flights of fancy, the recent revelation of the Aletine vault beneath the Ancient Hotel has given some credence to the notion of an extraordinary origin. However, the truth remains shrouded in secrecy. Only Steffy and the other powerful factions possess any concrete knowledge about Aletine's arrival in Evergreen. Unveiling Aletine: Myth and Reality Clash The truth behind Aletine shatters some village myths while confirming others. While not interdimensional as some theorized, the gem undeniably originates from beyond Evergreen's reality. Its arrival coincided with the cataclysmic event that reshaped the kingdom, a truth only The One Hundred truly understands. This revelation validates a part of the villagers' extravagant theories, a devastating event did occur. However, it disproves the notion of a dimensional tear bringing Aletine here.The gem's origins remain shrouded in secrecy, fueling speculation about the civilization it hailed from. Unveiling the Secrets of Aletine Aletine is the most precious and most protected thing in all of the kingdom. The amount of secrecy surrounding Aletine is almost enough to rival the secrecy surrounding The One Hundred. With so much secrecy surrounding the gem you might be wondering why it is such a big secret. Well as explained before Aletine is hidden under the ancient hotel, the oldest building in Evergreen. Located beneath the ancient hotel, the oldest structure in the kingdom, Aletine predates all other known resources. The exact date of its arrival remains locked away in the archives of The One Hundred, who possess the sole understanding of its properties. Historically, they reveal information only in dire circumstances to safeguard the kingdom. Steffy's mansion and the main hall boast massive Aletine arches, a testament to the gem's power: repelling dark energy and matter. Steffy had the arch built in his mansion after the battle with The Embodiment of Darkness. The gem releases an aura around it stopping anything that contains darkness from passing through whatever it is built in. The shape of the arch is also a key detail to securing the room at the maximum. The arch shape lets the aura bounce off of it and spread to the rest of the mansion but in smaller quantities. Steffy and The One Hundred are the only two who possess this key information about Aletine. Aletine's potential extends beyond this defensive ability. Could it hold further, untapped properties? The possibility of weaponizing this powerful gem remains a question with potentially far-reaching consequences. Aletine’s connections Aletine is not only known to Steffy and The One Hundred. The public knows about this gem as well but so do all the cults in Evergreen. The Heathotels’s archives contain the largest collection of knowledge on Aletine other than what Steffy and The One Hundred know. A single, crucial truth about Aletine's connection to an interdimensional entity eludes even Steffy. Only The One Hundred and the enigmatic leader of the Heathotels are privy to this knowledge. Aletine is connected to some other worldly being. Since its roots can be traced to outside of Evergreen’s world, there must be some other civilisation that made contact with the gem before the Great End. Another thing to take into perspective is that Aletine is one of the oldest substances in the world. Its age could suggest a lost civilization predating the cataclysmic "Great End." Could this civilization have been the first to harness Aletine's power? The gem's connection to another world fuels this speculation. Aletine has undoubtedly passed through countless hands over millennia. Are the Aletinians, with their oath of secrecy, truly in control? Or is Steffy merely a pawn in a larger game? Perhaps a hidden organization, like a rogue faction within The One Hundred or a descendant of the lost civilization, manipulates events from the shadows. The question of who truly controls Aletine lies at the heart of Evergreen's mysteries. Aletine’s potentials Aletine reigns supreme as Evergreen's most potent gem, rivaled only by the enigmatic atmospheric gem. It has many magical properties,Its most celebrated property being the fact that it can repel dark energy and dark matter which came in handy during the War Of Gods. It can also be used for a multitude of different things. One of the most outstanding creations with Aletine is the arches in the Main hall and Steffy’s mansion. They are guarding the archives which contain precious and secretive documents on Evergreen as well as artifacts that have not been exposed to the public. With so many possible uses for Aletine only a select few are actually used. The Aletinians have been told only 6 times in the last century to forge weapons out of Aletine. With those orders coming straight from Steffy himself. With the looming interdimensional threat it is highly likely that a war will start in the next millennium. Who will be the 2 sides is still a mystery. Steffy is also worried about a rebellion, Aletine has caused unrest in the villages which have caused small riots and raids of the libraries and archives yet all of them end in failure. It is another very likely possibility that a civil war will start in the next few hundred years. The main powers may be aware of this and are preparing to defend themselves if this possibility becomes a reality. Yet, the question lingers: with Aletine's apparent defensive capabilities and no documented harm to Evergreen, why such secrecy? Are the powers hiding something more sinister? Could they be preparing for a threat far greater than a civil war, a threat hinted at by the whispers of an interdimensional entity connected to Aletine? Lempty, a gem of mysterious beauty Lempty gems, with their captivating light blue hue and characteristically rough, quadrilateral edges, are a ubiquitous presence in Evergreen. Lempty is not much of a very interesting gem. It is mostly used for decorative purposes and not very much in weapon smithing.Though it has a lack of properties, It has very famous use, Steffy himself has a 5000 year old Lempty encrusted egg. It is originally made out of the bedrock of Evergreen, Eslud, with a few pieces of Lempty embedded in it’s surface. Even with such a useless facade with no redeeming qualities, it is still widely used in architecture especially in the northern villages to portray the cold and the snow that those villages usually experience. Lempty can be found in almost every mine in Evergreen, since it is very widespread it has a very small value. Compared to Aletine it is 7 000 000x less valuable. Since it is so cheap it can be found in almost every piece of jewelry and almost every building contains even a bit of Lempty. Rumors of Lempty's untapped potential for healing pique curiosity. Though currently as mere folklore, such mystery raises intriguing questions. Is Lempty truly just a decorative gem, or is there more to its story? Perhaps Steffy's undying devotion to the Lempty egg holds the key to unlocking its secrets. The parasitic presence of Lempty throughout Evergreen hints at a potential significance waiting to be discovered. Eslud, the foundation of Evergreen Eslud reigns supreme as the most common stone in Evergreen. It literally forms the foundation of the world, as the very mines themselves are carved from this versatile material. Eslud is used most commonly in construction since it can resist high temperatures and immense amounts of pressure. The only interesting property of Eslud is that no matter how much pressure is on it, it stays flexible allowing for buildings made out of it to withstand high winds and earth-shattering quakes. It is also the stone of choice when making heirlooms since it can withstand so much damage keeping the heirloom good as new for generations. The most famous example of this is the 3000 year old Eslud box that has been passed down as the Retule family heirloom. More than just a common stone, Eslud embodies the resilience and unwavering spirit that lies at the heart of Evergreen itself. Atmospheric gem, a power of nature The atmospheric gem is the true rarest gem in Evergreen as it is only found in one place, on the tip of Steffy’s magical staff. It has the power to control the atmosphere hence the name atmospheric gem, thanks to its power to control the atmosphere, Steffy chose this gem as his crystal of choice to harness its magical properties. Though Steffy never found this gem in nature since it is a mix between Aletine, Lempty and Celusi. The exact process of how the Atmospheric gem came into existence is still a closely guarded secret with only Steffy and The One Hundred knowing how the gem was fabricated. The exact origins of the Atmospheric Gem remain a closely guarded secret. While Steffy acknowledges the possibility of finding such a gem naturally in a faraway corner of the universe, he downplays the chances of it existing on Evergreen. It takes intense heat and pressure to let it form correctly and there were many failed attempts to create Atmopsheric with the failures themselves playing a crucial role in the final product. It is quite obvious what Atmospheric does, however, how it achieves this control remains a mystery. Steffy and The One Hundred keep the details shrouded in secrecy. This secrecy fuels speculation: what truly powers the gem, and what drove Steffy to dedicate over a century to crafting it for a seemingly limited ability to control the weather? Could there be a grander purpose behind its creation, a power yet to be revealed? Celusi, the geriatric gem of Tyrlosuh Celusi is one of the rarest gems in the kingdom rivaled only by Aletine. It can only be found in Heatherlea, usually near a patch of heatherberry; studies have shown that the heatherberry benefits from the light residue that emanates from the Celusi. The major families of Evergreen usually have a reserve of Celusi to pay the more hefty fines as well as create new heirlooms for each generation. Unlike the highly sought-after Aletine, Celusi possesses no outwardly magical properties, at least to the casual observer. Steffy and the other major powers seem largely uninterested in the gem. Yet, a single, magnificent purple Celusi, a rarity in its own right, resides with the Tyrlosuh family, one of Evergreen's wealthiest and most prominent lineages, containing almost 250 current living descendants and over 10 generations are currently in the lineage which means they’re are 140 year old people in the family. Botinelosi, is the oldest person in the family standing at 164 years old and is the first person to ever use Celusi in the art of crafting. He stumbled across it while mining in the outskirts of Heatherlea near the village where the family originated, affectionately also named Tyrlosuh. Steffy originally seized control of the mine where Botinelosi found it. The quick seizure of the mine raised suspicion on the properties of Celusi. Steffy eventually allowed Botinelosi to have full control over the mine. Rumors spread through the kingdom like a wildfire, Botinelosi's silence on the matter, coupled with the Tyrlosuh family's secrecy, fuels the rumors. What truth are they hiding? Could Celusi's beauty mask a more significant purpose, a power that rivals even Aletine's? Polompty, a concoction of nature Polompty, a breathtaking gem with an allure unlike any other, shimmers with the colors of Lempty, accented by veins of Eslud embedded deep within its interior. It also comes from the same location as Celusi, near the Tyrlosuh village. By taking its location into consideration it may lead you to believe that Polompty is simply an underdeveloped version of Celusi, which is what Botinelosi originally believed when first discovering it in the abandoned Reveras mine right near the Tyrlosuh mine. Polompty was originally put under extensive studies to discover more information on it, all the studies ended up coming with one answer: Polompty is a marvel of nature, a harmonious blend of 6 different stones and gems. Which explains the presence of Eslud in its core as well as the colors of Lempty. Since it has such a strange yet intriguing beauty it captivated crafters's curiosity which caused an influx of its use to fabricate jewelry. However when Lomi, daughter of Botinelosi, became head of the family the mine was closed off to the public and all sales of Polompty stopped causing shockwaves in the gem market, sparking the infamous Polompty rush. The Polompty rush, a desperate search After Lomi shut down the mine, the supply of Polompty slowly trickled to a stop. Lomi's aged father, Botinelosi, allowed his son Bisel to sell the remaining stones stored in the Tyrlosuh archives. With the Polompty market back on its feet, the family had satiated the market’s hunger. However, Lomi had a different vision for the family's future. She declared her son, Utigo, as her heir, bypassing Bisel's claim. Bisel sadly accepted to avoid being ostracized by the family ending the power struggle for the leadership of the Tyrlosuh lineage. The gem market, unable to sway Lomi, eventually turned its attention elsewhere. It wasn't long before the Retule family, sworn rivals of the Tyrlosuh family, discovered a small grove of Polompty near their Heatherberry fields. With the supply restored, markets everywhere flourished and the Polompty rush ended. This new source rekindled the market for three years, until this supply dwindled as well. Now, with both sources depleted and demand still high, a question lingers: Why did Lomi close the mine, causing economic turmoil? Does she possess knowledge of a hidden danger associated with Polompty, or is there a deeper secret to this extraordinary gem's origin? Families of Evergreen, cults in disguise Tyrlosuh family, from gemstone guardians to fallen shadows The Tyrlosuh family is the largest and wealthiest family in the entire history of the kingdom, they originate from Heatherlea and their family founder is Botinesoli and his loving wife Temorla Tyrlosuh who had 2 children, Lomi Tyrlosuh and Bisel Tyrlosuh. Bisel was originally the next heir for the head of the Tyrlosuh family but after Lomi took power as the first heir she decided to declare her son Ugito as the next heir. Bisel accepted his fate to never be head of the family to avoid being exiled by Lomi. With her decision she completely bypassed Bisel’s bloodline from the lineage, completely extinguishing any chance for any of his descendants to ever ascend to the title of head of family. Though this has never been done in the family, Lomi received backlash from both family members as well as the public as this was seen as an unforgivable act of treason to her own blood. With her destructive decision she removed over 30 descendants from having the last name Tyrlosuh. Bisel’s new family line, the Bisenoty, decided to declare a familial war against the Tyrlosuh. Sparking the Biserlosuh familial war. The Biserlosuh Familial war After Bisel declared a familial war against the Lomi, the population of Azalea and the, affectionately named, Tyrlosuh town, started to pick sides. At the time Bisel had the most support by the villagers considering Lomi was the cause of the Polompty rush. Which brought both fortune and misfortune, and had threatened to burn villager’s houses unless they followed her orders as their new leader, which sowed distrust between the populace. The war was not particularly disastrous since it was between 2 armies of around 400 people. Though the amount of lives lost caused an impact in the surrounding area and sent a shockwave in the gem trade market since the Tyrlosuh family were the largest exporters of stones and gems. Both families ended up losing a combined 86 members, 21 from the Bisenoty family leaving only 13 people left and the rest were from the Tyrlosuh family. This disaster would leave over 1300 civilians injured and over 700 dead, it also caused the partial destruction of the town of Tyrlosuh and the complete destruction of the Bisenoty town. Though not only the family’s town were left in ruin, entire neighborhoods of Azalea were utterly ravaged thanks to the supporters of the 2 families. With Evergreen on the brink of a civil war, Steffy himself had to step in and end the war. Though his attempts failed and the war continued for another 2 years before Lomi and Bisel decided to end the battle for the safety of the kingdom as more and more supporters began to sprout and begin fighting in the other towns. With Evergreen on the brink of absolute and utter chaos, Evergreen’s main entrances were shut down and the capital went into lockdown as protests arose, those protests leading into more chaos with the 2 sides arguing and fighting right outside the Main Hall. The Tyrlosuh archives were burned, the Tyrlosuh and the Reveras mines caved in in certain parts and the majority of the Tyrlosuh made jewelry was either sold to another crafter or destroyed entirely sending hundreds of thousands of objects into the Gray Realm causing a widespread jewelry shortage as well as worries on the safety of the Gray realm. After the war ended the Tyrlosuh family was fined 400 pieces of Celusi and their entire Polompty fortune was seized by the Heathotels. Downfall of the Tyrlosuh After the end of the Biserlosuh war, the Tyrlosuh family lost control over the Polompty mine, the majority of their Celusi hoard, their archive was burned to the ground and their hometown was partially in ruins. With Lomi’s dictatorship over the family and her undying hate for the Bisenoty family as well as the Retule family, she forced the Bisenoty family, which was ravaged by the war, to merge back into the Tyrlosuh family name, unifying the rivals and stopping any further familial civil wars from happening. Bisel decided to step down from the lineage and instead become the first person in the history of Evergreen to not be part of a family, whether it is big or small. With Bisel now gone Lomi had no one to challenge her in her dictatorship of the Tyrlosuh family. Until Botinelosi, founder of the family, decided that the lineage had embarrassed itself enough and removed Lomi as ruler. But Lomi refused and since Botinelosi was in his early 160s he couldn’t fight back against her and allowed her to continue her rule. The public had already lost interest in the family and was now fully against it destroying any hope of any new ruler to repair the damage caused by Lomi’s reckless decisions. The Tyrlosuh family, once revered, now exists as a cautionary tale. Their fall from grace serves as a stark reminder of the dangers of unchecked ambition and the devastating consequences of family discord. However, whispers still linger. Is Lomi truly broken, or is she biding her time, waiting for the opportunity to reclaim her lost glory? And what secrets lie buried beneath the ashes of the Tyrlosuh archives? The answers to these questions may hold the key to the Tyrlosuh family's redemption or their complete downfall. Retule family, fruit fanatics or fantasy fighters? The Retule family stands as a beacon of peace in the often-turbulent world of Evergreen. Unlike their gem-obsessed counterparts, the Tyrlosuh, the Retules view conflict with a deep aversion. Witnessing the devastation of the Biserlosuh War solidified their pacifistic stance. They famously disarmed themselves, donating all their Aletine weaponry to the Aletinians. But they still needed to make a profit, so their founder, Ruservi, created the Reveras mine right near the future area for the Tyrlosuh mine. Ruservi was the first person to explore and exploit that part of the kingdom since it was usually used as a tourist attraction for the rest of the towns to visit the lovely northern flora. He eventually discovered a cave which led into a large cluster of Celusi, which eventually led him to create the Reveras mine to mine out this new source of gems for the kingdom. After extensive testing his scholars noticed that Celusi had positive benefits to Heatherberry and enhanced its growth which led Ruservi to found the largest Heatherberry farm in the history of the kingdom. He led the family into a fruit empire for 140 years until he grew too old to lead the family anymore, at his 178th cycle he decided that his son Rymo would become the new leader of the Retule family. This decision came after the end of the Biserlosuh war which started a large change of ruler in many sections of the kingdom, families were giving way to new rulers and the cults were discussing the leaderships. Steffy decided to join in the massive leadership change adding new managers into the departments and a new Head Librarian into the archives. By the end of the leadership changing era Ruservi had already been ruler of the Retule family for a few months, during those few months he had commissioned the construction of a new town for the Retule family and everyone else who wanted to live there. Though this new project was a cover up for a more devious plot, he was in fact commissioning the Aletinians to forge Lempty weapons for his descendants, which caused distrust in the family after news of this plan came into the light. This revelation cast a shadow over the family's pacifistic ideals. Was Ruservi preparing for a war he alone foresaw? Or was there another, undisclosed reason for the clandestine weapon production? These questions continue to plague the Retules, a family caught between their commitment to peace and the shadows of a hidden agenda. Gatosi family, shadows of the kingdom Hidden within the bustling kingdom of Evergreen lies the Gatosi family, shrouded in secrecy and wielding a power unseen. The Gatosi are in charge of the safety of the archives which explains their secrecy and low popularity amongst the populace of Evergreen. They do not have any famous appearance nor have they ever participated in a war since their founding 3000 years ago. Their founder, Guvn, created the family after he noticed the amount of hate that the concealed archives would get from the public. Forever haunted by the everlasting threat of misuse in the archives. He decided to found a new family that would be in charge of protecting these archives and maintaining their secrecy. But considering the fact that Guvn founded the family over 3000 years ago it means he is long dead, he was 343 at the time of his death which leaves him as the longest serving Head Of Family in the history of the kingdom. They originally were treated with hate because the archives were seen as a threat thousands of years ago. But nowadays the archives are a staple in the culture of Evergreen. Captivating the public’s knowledge on what could be hiding in those labyrinth-like buildings. Now, nestled away in the secluded neighborhoods of Islafield, the Gatosi cultivate their unique Yoern vegetables, rumored to enhance mental clarity, a necessity for navigating the labyrinthine archives. While whispers of their reclusive nature follow them, the Gatosis family silently fulfills their role, the shadows of the kingdom their only companions. Fruits of Evergreen, source of nourishment and mystery Heatherberry The humble heatherberry is a ubiquitous presence in Evergreen's northern villages, especially Heatherlea, its namesake. This incredibly common fruit harbors a rare variant, the purple and orange heatherberry found only in one singular farm in Heatherlea. The farm’s owner has kept their identity to protect this incredibly rare variant of heatherberry. The whispers of Evergreen have always condensed into a wide array of conspiracy theories, in this case they believe that the heatherberry is a mystical edible stone that was brought to the kingdom from the forgotten civilization before Evergreen. Despite repeated debunking. A plethora of people still believe that this outlandish theory is true. The purple and orange heatherberry has been widely known for its rarity but also for its properties. The purple and orange heatherberry has been subject to multiple tests, including Eshwar Mestec’s famous 7676AGE experiments. Controversy and mystery cling to the heatherberry, yet it remains the kingdom's beloved snack, a daily indulgence for an impressive 96% of the population.
If you took the time to read everything please give me feedback or some sort of constructive criticism please

Ortimer Description:

Ortimer has grown a substantial amount since you’d seen him last, standing at nearly 18 foot tall. His mechanical shell has been made more advanced as Ortimer requires more and more things to keep him healthy in his old age, there are large glass vats and gauges displaying a wide arrangement of different balms, oils, potions, and medicines. Rubber piping runs between the vials and cracks of the whirring machine, carrying the different fluids to be applied wherever necessary. One important detail is that there is absolutely nothing mechanical about Ortimer’s shell that assists or aids his movement. He is adamant by relying on alchemy alone to keep him in good health and refuses to use canes, walkers, wheels, or anything similar..and to his credit, he moves incredibly well for a creature of his age and grandeur. Ortimer’s body shows signs of age, large wrinkles of flesh stretch from his limbs and neck, his chin has long thick strands of hardened skin that resemble a beard, and barely peaking out from his mechanical shell is very very faded scars that have healed over many years and medicines. Ortimer carries himself gently, but no matter how careful he is, his steps still shake the ground. His body is old but beneath the skin and wrinkles he is still a powerful creature with dense muscles and bone hidden beneath age. He’s humorous, generous, and very welcoming. With his sharp mind, his expression is almost always something you’d see from a teasing grandfather, or an aged jokester.

I built a pc today for the first time and when i plugged it in, I had NO display on my monitor but everything is on and running, including the GPU. I took the ram out and re seated it, I made sure the GPU and all wires were connected correctly, I dont even have a Motherboard Display port so I know i have it in the right hdmi port, Ive tried 3 different GPUs and all give me no display. The weird thing is I tried putting the old GPU back on the motherboard (Carried over from a PreBuilt) and that doesnt get a display anymore either. I know my PSU can handle the card (Im using a 850w, installing an MSI RTX 4080 Super. Everything in my build is new except the motherboard, it cane from my prebuilt PC. I see no lights on my motherboard that indicate an issue also. I’ve tried different monitors, Tv’s, and HDMI cables. Im honestly at my ends and have ZERO idea what is wrong.

Hi all, I'm looking for a second ski that's playful (hitting side hits, occasional tricks) but also can rip through groomers and do fine on ice. I have a pair of Salomon S Force FX.80s I've been using for the past few years when I was skiing for around 7 days a year on the East Coast carving on groomers. However, now in college, I'm on a ski team and will probably be averaging closer to 30 days a year, but I want to lean into some minor freestyle skiing, 180s, nose-butters, skiing switches, etc. I mostly ski on the East Coast (upstate NY, VT), with about a week in Utah in the spring, so it's still not that crazy of powder.
For context, I'm 5'11", 190 lbs, and 19 years old, and I have been skiing since I was 2, so I would like to call myself an advanced skier. I've been looking at the Season Kin, Armada Stranger, Mirus Cor, and maybe the Dynastar M-Cross 88 (but I have done little research into it).
I would love to hear more recommendations and/or feedback on the skis I mentioned.

Background context: My family consists of my wife and 4 months old baby and myself. We have a Pitbull and a Cane Corso. My house is made of mainly wood and inside is just drywall. It was made in the 1940s and is very old and settled. My home is only a one and a half bedroom.
I live in a constitutional carry state and I was wondering which type of firearm I should get for home defense?
My build is 5'4 and 180 pounds and my wife is 4'11 and 165. We both are on the smaller side in size.

Previous chapter
A soft chuckle filled the cave, carrying with it so much weight that not a single echo chased after it. It was as if, instead of making a sound, her laugh transmitted directly into his head and filled his body.
“It is alright child,” She petted his head. “Unlike the immortals from the stories you may have heard, I do not care for customs and formalities such as these. Raise your head.”
The way that she spoke reminded Mareus of Elder Guo in the almost ancient way that he would form his sentences while speaking in commands. Though it didn’t feel as if she was being overbearing.
Mareus struggled to his knees while looking everywhere except for her face. His eyes darted around her outline, looking into the darkness behind her, at the way her hair moved in the still air. Doing everything they could to avoid recognizing the disdain present in her gaze. Instead, when he finally met her eyes, he only saw softness accompanied by lines only formed with a gentle smile. Similar to the face a mother would make when consoling a crying child.
“Tell me your name, child.”
“M-my name… my name is Maris. I-I don't have a family name, but I was raised by a grandmother with the name Hua.” Starting to feel more comfortable, he asked. “May I know the name of the person who saved me?”
“Hmm, Mare-us.” She mulled over his name for a moment, as if she were determining what characters it used and their meaning. “Yes, it's a good name. The person who picked it chose wisely.”
He wasn't quite sure what to say. He never actually asked where his name came from. So he wasn't sure if it was his parents who chose, or his grandmother. He did ask her what it meant when he was younger, she could never give him a full answer though. Instead, she told him how the first character meant ‘endless’. “Like the boundless and infinite sea,” she would explain.
Having never seen the sea Mareus wasn't sure exactly how true that was, but he did ask a villager who had traveled outside the valley once, and they compared it to the sky. Because of that, he would often stare at the blue sky during the day, tracing the heaven’s scar as it ran into the horizon.
The woman continued to run her fingers through his hair like she would with a beloved pet. “I do have no family name. As such, I have many names over my life. The one I am currently fond of is Fu Kong.”
As if she had gotten what she came for, she gracefully rose to her feet and retreated back to the edge of the darkness. The shadows that fled when she revealed herself now returning, bathing the cave in total darkness.
“Do make sure to eat your meals, I will return with a change clothes for you. Unless, that is, you prefer those rags clinging to your bandages?”
Mareus lowered him so back into kowtow. “Mistress Fu Kong, you bless me with your kindness.”
His words were met with silence, and after a few heartbeats he raised his head to find only darkness awaiting him.
After breaking free from the awe, he finally examined his body for the first time. He had become noticeably thinner from skipping so many meals while his body was healing. It wasn't quite at the level that could be considered unhealthy, but he was already smaller than most children his age, and now he even skinnier.
His thick black hair was crusted and knotted, with some of it knitted into his robes. It's oil seeping into what was left of his clothes and his bandages. That wasn't the worst of it, though. The thing that shocked him the most was the stench.
While retching, he thought. How did I noticed this before?
Mareus reeked with the pungent odor of rot and filth. He was reminded of after the wedding and the parts of the Shou that were left in the field to decompose before being turned into fertilizer.
Breaking free from his regrettable fantasy, he felt a kind of enlightenment that was quickly replaced with embarrassment. I can't believe I was in front of someone like her while like this. He agonized and rolled in his makeshift bed while covering his face.
He frantically looked around for anything to help him hide the stench and, hopefully, his shame. When he noticed a few things that weren't there before. The darkness of the cave faded again, as if the shadows were imitating the clouds on an overcast day.
Without the distraction of a heavenly fairy or his eyes blurred from his tears, he could finally clearly make out his surroundings. And it was no wonder he could find the exit before, instead of a wide area, naturally carved out inside a cave. The room was more like a misshapen bowl with a high ledge that led to several more dark passages.
In the bowl, the closest wall had a small table and stool with a used candle and some parchment. The adjacent one revealed a pile of furs he couldn’t recognize. On the far end of the cave were some plants he'd never seen before. As Mareus got closer he noticed: a small bucket of water, a piece of pumice soap, and a cloth.
He absentmindedly spoke. “I guess she really thought of everything.”
Mareus realized that either the stool was far heavier than it looked, or he had gotten that much weaker as he struggled to drag it between two bigger plants. He tore off his tattered clothes and sat down before fighting with his bandages.
“I'm glad you're taking the initiative to explore on your own.”
He connected the sudden voice into a lot of his feet while trying to cover anything he could. Although the remains of his robe didn't cover much more than the wraps already were.
Unbothered, Fu Kong continued. “I worried that you'd fall back into your depression after I'd left. But seeing you up and about is a testament to the strength of your soul.”
He slowly climbed back onto his seat as the strange woman spoke. Making sure to have most of his body turned away from her. When she suddenly stopped speaking, he looked back to see if he had disappeared again. Instead, she was gracefully sitting on a inky black ledge he didn't notice before.
“Mistress, I don't want to seem disrespectful, but do you need something from me?”
Her face didn't change as she thought for a moment. “There's no rush, I can wait until you're ready.”
Accepting that she had no intention of giving him any privacy, he started scrubbing the areas that weren't covered by his bandages. He quickly noticed that when he accidentally scrubbed over the edges of the bandage, it drank the soapy water. What was even more surprising was that the characters wriggled like they were alive before the bandages secreted some sort of brown substance.
The stink was even more horrendous than before, he immediately slapped it away and watched as it splashed in the bucket. The gunk sizzled away in a matter of seconds until the water was clear again.
Experimentally, he cupped his hand and scooped some of the water onto his leg. Mareus immediately regretted that because the smell was so overwhelming he released what little there was left in his stomach into the bucket.
While covering his nose, he hurriedly cleaned up the remainder of the gunk and made sure to only wash small sections before scraping away what came out into the bucket.
Train to distract himself, he started up a conversation with the woman watching over him. “You said you'd wait until I was ready. What am I supposed to be ready for?”
“Before anything else, we'll have to get you something substantial in your stomach, or you'll waste away completely. You’ll also be needing new robes that are preferably more durable. Your old ones are beyond anything that could be called clothes now, and there's no point of getting you ones that will only fall apart right away.”
Mareus stared at the tattered cloth that was no different than the rag he was using to wash his own body. Wondering just what exactly she had in store for him.
Next chapter

Background context: My family consists of my wife and 4 months old baby and myself. We have a Pitbull and a Cane Corso. My house is made of mainly wood and inside is just drywall. It was made in the 1940s and is very old and settled. My home is only a one and a half bedroom.
I live in a constitutional carry state and I was wondering which type of firearm I should get for home defense?
My build is 5'4 and 180 pounds and my wife is 4'11 and 165. We both are on the smaller side in size.

Background context: My family consists of my wife and 4 months old baby and myself. We have a Pitbull and a Cane Corso. My house is made of mainly wood and inside is just drywall. It was made in the 1940s and is very old and settled. My home is only a one and a half bedroom.
I live in a constitutional carry state and I was wondering which type of firearm I should get for home defense?
My build is 5'4 and 180 pounds and my wife is 4'11 and 165. We both are on the smaller side in size.

[ First / Previous ]
Memory Transcription Subject: Hileen, Krakotl Fugitive Recovery Agent
Date [standardized human time]: November 28th, 2136
It'd been a while since I sat in Marlig's office for a talk face-to-face. Given the agency's secluded location at the edge of the downtown region, it was a chore to drop by when it wasn't for business, but I'd deemed the matter at hand to be worth my time.
I passed by Nampi at her desk on my way to the door and she gave me a coy glare as I carried on. Trying to ignore her risible ear waggle, I turned the corner to the door with my boss’s name painted on the glass panel where I could hear the frantic crumpling of paper.
Quietly, I entered Marlig's office without prompt as I knew he hated to be spooked by knocking. My mentor was surprisingly spry for a bird at his age, sorting through papers with one wing and an eye while using his talons with the other to set away the papers he had splayed out.
“Hileen!” he chirped. “Glad you could make it in today. I was just finishing up my paperwork. Take a seat.”
It was always nice to hear him drop the professional motif for a more grandfatherly attitude when speaking in person. I did as he suggested and took a seat while he grumbled to himself over the sorting. My eye caught a few of the old contracts he was rifling through and saw that some dated back to his days as an agent.
Eventually, he left some sitting out as he sequestered the rest back into their files, sorted by a dichotomy that only he and Nampi could comprehend fully. He motioned with a wing for me to peruse and I turned the first one to face me to find it was my first contract, signed by me in a sloppy fashion. “This takes me back a couple of years.”
“Slick bastard thought he could get away on a forklift but you showed him! Certainly more exciting than my first day!”
“Mm-hmm. And it was when I nearly got impaled that you had the idea to commission all of us utility vests.”
He chuckled, “I really should’ve done so sooner. Cuts and scratches were already a risk, but a forklift was a new one!”
I flipped through the pages of each report, finding that Marlig's notes were filled with praises of my work. There were highs and lows, but I was flattered to find that the grizzled krakotl held my performance in such high regard.
“Flawless interception!” read one footnote about me catching a runner. “Couldn't have done it better myself!”
Marlig waited patiently as I browsed quickly through each page, realizing more and more how the notes also marked improvements in my work. How I found it easier to talk down a rowdy client, or apprehend them in the case that they were beyond helping on my part. Flowery language plastered most pages with him fawning over my work as a doting father would to his prodigal child.
The trend took a sharp turn as the notes became fewer and more critical the closer the dates reached to the present. I brushed the others aside with a wing to peruse the final paper. “And this…”
“Is Tac. Your latest contract. The most recent in a line of declining performance since the interview. This has become a pattern, Hileen, and its consequences are beginning to reach beyond yourself. Paji and Vesek resigned recently for personal reasons, which leaves us even less hands on deck than before. That's four people to cover the entire municipal region, and maybe even beyond, should needs arise. Three, if we include this little probation I have you on.”
“What was I supposed to do? Marlig, these ‘jobs’ you've got us working on overstep the contracts we were signed on with. Our job is to make sure people obey their court-mandated duties, not drag them off to the facilities ourselves!”
“... So the trip we took to the facilities did bother you.”
A sigh clicked in my throat as he reminded me. “Is that what happens to the people we take in, Marlig? Is that what would've happened to your wife?”
His feathers ruffled.
“That's what happens to those who are too dangerous to the general public to be left roaming free. Not everyone we deal with winds up there, but everyone can be subject to it. Miskela sued for her exoneration and proved in court that she was not diseased. I brought you there to show you how it helps the people, but I see now that it was a mistake. I understand why you were so perturbed, really, but it's how things have been for centuries. It's how we've protected ourselves from the dangers out there.”
“You were willing to let Barsul be interned there, too.”
Marlig flinched and sighed as he swept the papers towards himself once I'd signaled I was done. He turned one eye to me while he sorted them.
“There's no room for favoritism, girl. I negotiated for him to be allowed to walk free, and look where that got me. That boy - your neighbor - suffered the consequences of my nepotism. So too would the girl, had nobody intervened.”
“Like Richard.”
“The human, yes. Or you. Or the police. Where does this sudden obsession with humans come from, anyway? I get notifications of you talking about the acceptance of them all the time on forums.”
“Does it even need explaining?”
“Well, I guess not, no, but it's certainly an about-face from the way you used to talk about them with me beforehand.”
“People can change, for better or worse. Which one I fall under remains to be seen.”
Marlig stroked at the plumage on his neck as he finished his sorting. “I hope it's the former, for your sake. Was there any reason you came to talk, or were you just checking that I hadn't gone senile?”
“Well, I was hoping to borrow your secretary for the evening.”
He perked up while his eyes narrowed and he laced his fingers together with curiosity. “You… want to spend an evening with Nampi?”
“It's not what you're insinuating, but yes.”
“I was insinuating nothing,” he warbled coyly. “Go ahead and take her, and make sure to split the bill at dinner.”
“Pain-in-the-ass geezer. I'll keep in touch if your friend causes any more trouble.”
“Keep in touch regardless. Miskela and I get lonely in our old age,” he called back. “Take care.”
I stepped out into the hallway and turned toward the desk where I could hear the secretary's claws tapping furtively at her keyboard. Nampi sat silently with her ears and tail in a relaxed position that implied a bored demeanor. There was barely any response as I stood before her, waiting politely for her acknowledgment that never came.
Hesitantly, I cleared my throat.
An ear raised in acknowledgement, but her focus remained on the screen of her computer. “Mhm?”
“Do you…?”
Her ear rotated toward me, though she still maintained a passive attitude as she continued to glare mindlessly at the monitor.
“Are you free this evening?”
“Well, I'm quite booked, I believe. Why do you ask?”
I was surprised at her curt, dry tone. She hadn't spoken with me like this since we first got to know one another.
“Well,” I started. “I realized something. Every time we went out, whether it was clubbing, or dinner, or even walking around the parks, you always footed the bill. And so…”
Slowly, her other ear perked up and I saw her keystrokes slow down as she listened in.
“I wanted to return the favor?”
Her lips smacked as she opened her mouth, though paused before she spoke. “How could you possibly do that?”
“With a little gesture of friendship.”
Nampi's horizontal pupil turned up toward me and her tail twitched.
I continued, “So that belt you're wearing? It's the same belt you've worn since we first met. And I know you're the pragmatic type who'd never spend a credit more than she needs to, except for all the times you do"- her ears twitched in indignance -"I wanted to see about getting you a little something… extra?”
Her paws raised from the keyboard and she leaned in, resting her snout on her palms. “Go on.”
The bubbly venlil's tail sold out her collected facade as it twitched with anticipation. She was cornered and she didn't even know it yet.
“Well, I found just the place on the other side of town where we can start. It's a place almost as rich and indulgent as yourself.”
“The Platinum Paw? I mean3”
Her ears folded back in embarrassment as she cracked. She wasn't cut out for acting anyway.
“So that's what it's called! Jeez, I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was called. Now what do you say? We go over there and find you something nice—”
I hadn’t even finished my thought before Nampi had grabbed her bag and was out the door, giving me a playful tail flick that said come and get me.

The place I suggested was in a shopping center on the opposite side of town, though easily accessible because of its proximity to the transport rails. Nampi had insisted on grabbing something to eat beforehand and so now gleefully bit into a bundle of stalks that had been “grilled” as explained from the food truck we'd stopped at.
Her tail flicked back and forth with her usual enthusiasm as we entered the massive complex of stores. The roofless plan allowed the natural, orange sun to flood the upper levels while artificial lighting illuminated the ground level wherever the light couldn't reach.
The place was built in the last decade by the previous City Magister in a bid for popularity, though ultimately for naught as he would lose the vote following a scandal involving an iftali priestess and a carved bar of soap. I had to say that despite being sick in the head, he sure had a great sense of decor.
Nampi snacked away, joining me in admiring the scenery as we continued to the place I’d planned out for us. Aimless chatter all melded together into a single, thrumming murmur as pedestrians navigated the many levels and stores offered in the place.
A troupe of children passed by us, held in a chain of tails and arms as they were escorted by a pair of venlil who I assumed were students and teachers on a school trip. I caught a whiff of a sweet, aromatic breeze and found it to come from a perfume shop on the same level as us; naturally, venlil were not to be found inside.
We passed a fountain where a couple sat on the edge, their tails twined together as they giggled and flirted. I turned and caught Nampi watching them as well, though she awkwardly returned to sucking the remains of her meal from her claws when we made eye contact. Her ears lifted when I raised a wing to signal to the store we were going to stop at first.
“Platinum Paw, The Greatest Fashion Emporium For Everyone!”
The title alone was painfully cliche, taken to the tenth power by the brightly lit store taking up three department slots. Despite the flashy exterior, though, it was the best place to shop for belts, brooches, and bracelets alike. Customers who looked like they earned my yearly salary in a week browsed the higher end brands while I brought my friend to the section I wanted to show her.
Her ears were held up as we stood together next to a shelf chock full of fashionable bags and bandoliers of every variety.
“Pick one,” I told her.
Nampi's ears shot to a straight pose in surprise, “Any?”
“Within reason. I've got a few extra credits to blow and I know nobody better to spend it on.”
With an inviting headtilt, I let Nampi peruse the shelves at her leisure. Her lips pursed together and her tail flicked with glee as she fingered at every piece that caught her eye. I chuckled at her outburst of enthusiasm while turning to find my own items to gloss over.
A breeze from outside nipped at my beak while I considered what I’d like to purchase. The place dripped with an atmosphere of faux hospitality, from the bright blue-stained floorboards to the radio prattling off advertisements in a sickeningly sweet tone to the faint, fruity aroma of scented cleaner. It was oppressive as only a fissan-owned company could be to the senses.
What I wouldn’t pay to see how a human would fare in such an environment.
I knew they were social creatures at least, but I had no doubt that the predatory senses of a human, so honed to hunting, would get overstimulated in this center of gaudy indulgence. Knowing I was something of a predator myself made me sympathize provided that even I had to squint to keep the pale lights inside from searing my eyes. I could only imagine how the arboreal eyes of a Terran would fare. I was so lost in thought imagining how lost the Terrans would be that I could almost ignore the obnoxious giggling and metallic rattling coming from behind me.
Risking a peek at the source, into my sight came a pair of venlil, one a male carrying a pair of bags as well as a couple more strapped to his belt. The bored expression in his eyes was not one of a man who was in high spirits. The other venlil was a woman who was the source of the noise.
Her mottled gray pelt was accented by a tasteful belt design, free of almost any practical functions but not flashy or excessive in garnishment either. At least, that’s what I would say, were it not for the braid of beads that dangled on the belt, jingling with each bounce of the lively woman’s stride. It was clear that such a gaudy accessory was intended to draw attention to her, though why was a mystery. Certainly, the shiny braids seemed designed as decoration first and practical second.
She turned about and I faced back to my browsing before she could catch me staring. Nampi was nowhere in sight, though I figured she was somewhere behind the shelf, sifting through every accessory on the section I'd suggested.
Clink.
Something pelted to my immediate right. I tilted my head to spot a tree nut shell clattering to the floor. Without being able to guess where it came from, I had to wonder what could've launched it over this way. Even with my keen eyesight, nobody in the crowd seemed to be a suspect.
Clink.
Another shell pelted my vicinity, ricocheting off of the floor and hitting the shelf I was standing next to. I ruffled my feathers in frustration - clearly, someone was trying to get my attention, though I couldn't make out who it was. Out of the corner of my vision, the woman from before eyed me curiously as I looked about, though I wasn't interested in engaging with her.
Thwack.
One more shell came flying and, unfortunately, the aim on this one was true, nailing me on the beak. Irritated, I stormed out of the store to find the source of the instigator. I scanned over the bodies to find anyone who could've been responsible for this indignity, eventually concluding that it came from the dining area across the walkway.
Whoever was responsible was in for an earful and I was already structuring which of the offender's family members would be acceptable as fodder for stray words. As I approached, I found the tables were mostly empty save for one, which made my heart begin to drop as I met eyes with the only occupant. Suddenly, I was much less inclined to hurl insults.
“Oh, hi there!” Qitel called out in a sickly sweet tone. “Come, take a seat! We have much to discuss!”
The Exterminator clutched a bag of tree nuts in his claws, a pile of discarded shells already gathered on the table next to him. He grabbed another as I approached, effortlessly prying the shell in half between two claws and tossed the contents into his mouth. “Good protein, these,” he commented as I sat down.
“Must be for that good arm you've got there,” I mumbled. I caught sight of a couple of bags beneath his chair, seemingly from one of the tech stores contained within the center.
“Bah, it's guesswork. So how are you? I haven't heard from you since we worked together!”
“I was just spending time with a friend, shopping and enjoying my time off.”
“Your time off? Oh, am I interrupting something?”
His snide tone irked me, though now wasn’t the time for interjections. “You are, Qitel,” I replied with no shortage of vitriol in my tone. “But I see no harm in chatting for a bit.”
“Good, because I have some merchandise”- he reached into his belt pocket and deposited a couple of items onto the table -“and you’re just the person to look into it, human sympathizer.”
I drew a terse breath in shock, but my worries were quelled when I considered that if Qitel had the power to do anything about it, he would’ve done so instead of approaching me so discreetly. A glance down at the item on the table showed that he was presenting what looked to be a tracker as well as a personal drive. “Found in the garbage,” he told me.
“The guild resorts to dumpster diving when they already have such a bloated budget now?”
“No, featherbrain, I have decided to keep this for myself. These items were found together, sealed in a plastic pouch, and placed in a garbage bin. The city has bans against electronics being placed into public bins, and so I was curious why this wound up in there. Managed to get my coworker, a techie, to crack it open and…”
Qitel reached into his belt again, glowering at me with the same condescending gaze he’d given me when I first saw his face. He seemed to revel in digging for the item as slowly as possible to waste my time. Finally, he found whatever he was looking for and revealed it as a printed piece of paper, folded into eighths. The snobby yotul threw the unfurled paper on the table and rolled it toward me.
I craned my neck to look at the parchment, though I was immediately perplexed by the text on it; it appeared to be some sort of form, going by the boxes with words on the inside, followed by blank lines. “Found on the drive, here,” Qitel told me, jabbing a claw to the storage. “Translator shows it as Terran writing.”
Drawing my holopad from my satchel, I held it over the paper with the translator to get an understanding. Surely enough, the language on it came up positive as a variant of Terran writing and I was affirmed in it being a form of some sort based on the wording of the text. The boxes seemed like an odd sort of job application, asking for the typical name, contacts, and prior work experiences, but quickly took a strange turn as it began asking for where their home on Earth was prior to arrival, what family they had on Venlil Prime if any, and where they worked, implying that they were seeking individuals who were already employed.
I knew little about human employment methods, but I didn’t imagine that sourcing individuals from other jobs was the most efficient way to gain a workforce. Terran service industries already dotted the planet while many humans also found work in local environments. So what was the angle that the creator of this application was going for?
Most concerningly was that the paper had no insignia, identifying marks, or noted address to return the form to. “And where did you find it again?”
“In the garbage, alongside this intact tracker that was activated at the time of recovery. Y’know, when I was dumpster diving. Text on the document showed it was addressed to one ‘Choctaw Nexus’.”
“A pseudonym of some sort?”
“Clearly. Short sorting through the archives shows the first name traces back to the group out east - perhaps you've heard about them. How the name and the items we have here are connected is beyond my understanding, but-”
“Well, this has been an absolutely riveting discussion about your collection of trash, Qitel,” I told him as I stood up to leave. “But this really sounds like an issue to be resolved by your fellow guildsmen.”
The sound of another shell splitting rang out as I turned away.
“I'm not through talking with you, predator.”
The sting as a piece nailed me in the back of the head prompted me to whirl back around, sticking my beak in the insolent yotul's snout. “Perhaps you've forgotten, little man,” I cooed in an equally bittersweet tone to the one he gave me before. “The krakotl never had a problem with settling issues the old-fashioned way before the interview. Try me and find out why I'm in the line of work I am.”
“Oh, we wouldn't want that in such a"- he waved his paw to a group of passersby who had stopped to gawk at my display -”public forum. Please, contain yourself.”
I had to force the feathers on my back to settle and I raised my head away from him. “What else is it you wanted, then?”
“Well, I'd appreciate if you took this merchandise off my paws,” he told me as he brushed the electronics and printout toward me.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you're closer to the humans than I'd ever care to be, and may be able to find out who this Choctaw Nexus is. Something about the package just feels… off. And I know when to trust my feelings. Besides, we both know that you know where Tac is, don't we?”
“I don't-”
“We have videographic evidence that you conspired with a human - of the aforementioned squatters, no less - and let the kid escape. You're not as sneaky as you think, and if we find this ‘Choctaw Nexus’ turns out to be a bad actor that can be traced back to them - and by extension, you - well, there’d be no talking down my boss from having you dealt with. By helping me find out who this is, you may yet be able to clear your name of any wrongdoing.”
I clenched my beak tightly to maintain a straight face. Qitel stood up with a flourish and discarded the bag he was carrying in a bin.
“See, the krakotl were never special for using threats and bullying to get results. It's because you were good at killing predators,” he jeered. “Now, if you don't mind, this primitive has appointments to attend to… old lady who got trampled courtesy of the humans and all. You stay out of trouble, Hileen, and stay in touch.”
The self-assured marsupial melded into the crowd in a matter of seconds, leaving me with a table containing dumpster trophies and a pile of shells. Reluctantly, I swept the shells into my wing and dumped them into the bin before gathering the other two items he'd left me and stuffing them into my bag. I'd been gone from Nampi long enough and she would notice my absence before long.
Crossing the walkway again, I could spot from where I stood that Nampi was indeed still in the Platinum Paw. I approached, and soon I found that while she didn't seem to have noticed me stepping away, she was definitely in a soured mood based on the sagging of her ears and tail. With my talons clacking on the floorboards, I hustled to her side and her mood chippered up ever so slightly as she heard me approach.
I chimed in, “Find anything?”
“Everything. I want everything, Red, and I can't decide on what I want. They all just look so great!”
From behind, a voice called out, “Nampi!”
We both jumped at the exclamation and turned about to spot the venlil lady I'd seen before spring from behind the shelf. The man poked his head from behind the shelf too, though less enthusiastically and with yet another bag in his clutches. My friend's eyes widened in surprise with her tail and ears perking up in kind. With a light in her eyes, she exclaimed, “Nalek!”
The two embraced with shrill squeals and laughter as Nalek's accompaniment and I traded awkward glances.
“It's been too long!”
“You never stayed in contact!”
The women exchanged giddy greetings and the pompous stranger turned to me, leering over me as though she was sizing me up.
“Who's your friend here?”
“Oh she's actually my-...”
Nampi paused for a moment, looking back to me.
“Yeah, she's a friend.”
“A friend,” Nalek repeated while her eyes flicked between Nampi and I. “Right.”
Somehow, I get the impression that that was judgemental.
“I'm Hileen, by the way,” I chirped, “if names are to be exchanged.”
“Hileen, that's a lovely name! And such plumage to match, it's a wonder you aren't swarmed by suitors!”
Internally, I groaned at the notion. The idea of being approached by someone to state their interest in me made me queasy, to say the least. Thankfully, I never had that issue growing up as most of the other drakes in school were too busy chasing girls who didn't have a lousy pigmentation mutation such as myself.
“I'm flattered,” I told Nalek before turning to the man whose name had yet to be introduced. “May we get your name?”
“Sask.”
His response was succinct and tonally flat, though there was a brief silence as I expected him to elaborate. Nalek's beads jingled as she lashed him on the calf with her tail.
“I'm Sask, Nalek's fiancée,” he added, throwing her a look to see if she was satisfied.
Nampi gasped with her paws over her snout. “Fiancée! Nalek, you're getting married and you never even told me!”
“Well, I felt a little guilty since it technically broke our pact we made when we were pups. You remember that?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I? ‘Let she who bonds through betrothal first be cast out unto the world for all to admonish her!’”
Sask and I both gave inquisitive expressions. “You two spoke like that as pups?” Sask asked.
“Well, I'm paraphrasing,” Nampi admitted with a playful ear waggle. “But you get the gist.”
“Indeed, they do, sweet Nampi. Now, may I ask what you're doing bringing your avian friend here into this store on this fine claw?”
“Oh, no no, she's the one treating me! Isn't that right, Red?”
I saw her tail twitch and was sure it took restraint not to tickle my neck with it as we stood before her old friend.
“She's been a good friend,” I explained. “So I wanted to reverse the roles for once and treat her to something myself.”
Nampi skipped over to me and wrapped her arm around me, glancing back to her old friend. “See? We'd all be so lucky to have a… friend like her.”
“So I've witnessed. But perhaps you're a bit stuck, as I've seen you prancing up and down these aisles for a while, no? Maybe you don't know what you want?”
“Nalek, you know I've never been good about making my mind up.”
“Some things never change, you ditz. Tell you what: you and Sask go find us a seat and we can catch up all we'd like when we're not taking up aisle space, yes? So shoo! I'll help Hileen here pick one out for you!”
With a bored grunt, Sask made off with the goods he had strapped to himself, followed by Nampi who gave me one more playful tail flick before dashing off into the crowd. I looked back to the mottled snout of Nalek who watched her friend wander off with a wistful glance.
“She was my first, you know.”
“Your what now.”
“Love. Way back when we were growing from pups into young adults back in private education, we explored much together. We saw each other through a lot, including the less savory parts of finding a mate. When Nampi realized it wasn't the boys she was into, she turned to me, and I offered my hand as her stalwart companion… to a point.”
“You weren't interested in her the same way?”
“I'd grown up seeing her as a sister of sorts, so ultimately, when we split it off, we stayed close as friends and she never seemed to be bothered by it. She struggled to find others in school who had the same interests as herself, but she never fussed about it.”
Nalek's claws browsed over a set of pouched bandoliers made with intricate embroidering. “Have you two… spent the night together? Alone?”
Spiritually, I reeled from the inquiry. The whiplash from that question was equitable to being smacked by a human. “Wha- why? How's that pertinent to the subject at hand?”
“That sounds like a ‘yes’ to me,” she purred with a smug glance my way.
I didn't need to begin to list the different ways such a question was violating to our privacy, and yet this woman was treating it like a game.
“Not really your concern, ma'am.”
Nalek chuckled as she picked out one of the bandoliers and inspected it with her claws. “I'd like to think that she and I still have that old connection, despite everything. And to that end, I know that she's no slag and doesn't trust easy. To see her be so vulnerable around you and to talk so highly of someone who's clearly below her income level as a predator…”
She stretched the bandolier out to appreciate the design in its entirety.
“Well, that's something special. Here"- she foisted the accessory into my wings as I stood gobsmacked -"this just screams her name.”
“This is, like, double my budget.”
“Love don't come cheap, darling. You wanna see good things happen, sometimes you've gotta step out of your comfort zone and grasp for it!”
“I'm being lectured by a rich woman on finances.”
“It's a philosophy that goes beyond money, ‘Red.’ The humans have a saying, in their horrendously predatory nomenclature, that contains a kernel of truth: ‘you miss every shot you don't take’.”
Yep, that's definitely a human phrase.
Nalek's steely braid rattled with every flick of the tail as we proceeded through the checkout.
“You want things to change between you and her?” she continued. “Don't just wait for it to happen.”
She let the conversation rest there as we finished the purchase, possibly to let me recuperate mentally from the damage done to my account. Outside, we found our respective partners sitting at a table with Sask looking up in boredom as Nampi chatted away, though she immediately shut up and turned to me with excited flicks of her tail as she saw what I was carrying.
I held it toward her and she happily shot to her feet, effortlessly removing the tags with her claws and clipping it to her belt. Nalek clapped and waggled her tail as the giddy lady did a whirl about to let us admire the accessory. While I'd have preferred one with pockets to give it a more practical use, I decided to let Nalek have the victory as our mutual friend clearly enjoyed it.
The rest of the paw was a blur as the two friends chatted without end until Sask eventually reminded his betrothed that they had a schedule to attend to. Though Nalek offered to call us a taxi home as a gesture of kindness, I saw through her ruse to determine that she was trying to pull a fast one on me - the clever ear flick she gave as we boarded the automated vehicle sold it for me.
We sat in the seats as the vehicle took the express ride home.
Nampi cleared her throat before she spoke, “Thank you for taking some time to spend with me, I know you've had a lot less free time as of late.”
“It's a prison of my own design, if I must be honest. A feedback loop of working a job that doesn't guarantee a paycheck to pay for rent that keeps going up, and thus needing to work more.”
The venlil giggled and chided me, “You really should've stayed in university.”
“There's a lotta 'should haves’ that've led me to this point. No use wondering what could have been.”
“There's always a use for wondering what could have been, Hileen.”
She wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
“Every decision I make, I always wonder what I could've done differently that it'd have turned out better,” she explained as she waved her free paw to the sky. “It's how you grow as a person, Red.”
Her silky pelt felt heavenly in contrast to the chilly air from outside, making it hard to let her words sink in.
“You rich types seem chock full of philosophy. I wonder if I'll become a brooding orator when I get some cash to my name.”
The cab filled with laughter as we veered around the final corner to my neighborhood, as it was the closest stop. The door popped open accompanied by a chime from the drone, signaling for me to depart.
But before my talons could even hit the pavement, I felt Nampi's scrawny arms wrap around my waist and she let out a pitiful mewl again.
“You don't need to get off here,” she told me with a pouty expression. “We can spend the rest of the paw at my place.”
“I'd love it, but I need to water my plants and get the month's bills sorted before they're due. Again.”
One claw at a time, I plucked her paws from around my waist and the childish venlil conceded, giving me another ear waggle as I departed. “I'll see you tomorrow?” I asked her.
“If you still have eyes by then, then you can bet your ass!”
“I still don't gamble.”
“You'll come around to it eventually.”
I shut the door to the taxi and watched as it carted away the one venlil who I ever truly felt on the same wavelength as. Fiddling with the lock felt like more of a chore than usual at this time as I felt a little voice tugging at the back of my head.
“You miss every shot you don't take.”
The lock felt jammed as I began to jiggle it more vigorously with the electric key. Either the RFID or NFC readers were messed up, as the lock refused to accept my key. I looked up and down the street, though Nampi was now long gone for me to rescind my earlier rejection.
“Every decision I make, I wonder what I could've done differently.”
The door rattled as I grew more and more infuriated with the lock. Qitel's smug expression as he threatened me so boldly in public played back in my head, and I wondered what would've happened had I decided to go through with insulting his mother. Better yet, I wondered what could've been had I not backed down in the face of his unflinching confidence.
Bzzt. The lock rejected my key again.
“Raagh! You fucking useless hunk of junk!”
I squawked in anger and kicked against the door, careless of the consequences of having Markol back down here to admonish another of his tenants for causing a ruckus. The walls were surprisingly sturdy for how ineffective the venlil architecture looked on the surface and I reeled back in pain as my leg throbbed.
Click.
I looked to my left to see that it wasn't my door that came open, but that of the twins. The door cracked open ever so slightly, no doubt nudged by the force of my tirade and I sighed. Nobody was expected to be home at this time, with Vili being away and Luka leaving early to get a head start.
Luka had been given a stern talking-to by the landlord for allowing one of those cats into his apartment through neglect, and I was disappointed that he seemed to have not learned his lesson this time. In fact, it seemed he hadn't even thought to lock the door this time.
I took it upon myself to shut the door for him before turning back to my own apartment door. Grasping the key with one talon, I turned it ever so gently, though the lock still refused to give in.
With a bit more force, the torsion applied to the key felt as though it should've snapped it by now. Markol sure didn't waste any expense for the security for this place, doubtlessly as a result of his history in electronic security, but I wished now that he had provided a way in that didn't rely on privately sourced locks.
Considering my options as I stood trapped outside, I realized that I had never gotten around to paying for a new lock for Tadi. I'd considered contacting her to inform her that Tac had made it out of town safely, but that'd involve also telling her that her son was now in the care of humans, as if that was a better outcome to her.
Stepping out front, I realized that there was one more option I hadn't considered: my window. I usually forgot to lock it after I was through letting air circulate and I was silently grateful to myself for this absentmindedness now more than ever. Sticking a foot on the threshold, I lifted myself in a way that'd allow me to have leverage to force the window open.
The window made me fight for every inch, but I felt a strange satisfaction as it slowly opened up into an entrance that I could squeeze my way through. I let out a sigh as my talons clicked against the cool floor and slid the window shut.
I laid my satchel on the couch and turned back to the door, ready to unleash my fury on the disobedient object. But as I reached for the lock to manually open the door, I noted that the lights on the RFID interface both flashed at once, blinking erratically. Red and green flickered without rhyme or reason, indicating that it was both active and inactive.
As pretty as the colors were, I now knew that Markol's locks were not as reliable as he had touted them about: typically, such would not occur unless the device was damaged deliberately, and yet nothing indicated that I'd had uninvited guests. One could pray that those cats didn't secretly know how to cobble together an ECM jammer, but my personal wager was on faulty equipment.
Settling in, I browsed my favorite soaps on the television. For what was intended to be a day of relaxation and show of affection for a friend, I found myself rather wound up over all the things that added up. Couples threw around flowery words and swooned over one another on screen as I felt the tension diffuse. My holopad rang and I turned it over to spot that Nampi was informing me that she'd arrived home safely.
>>> Feels empty here, all alone.
She made sure to drive the point home with a sticker of a venlil making a pouty expression.
Next time, I thought to myself, I'll get it right for you, Nampi.
[ First / Previous ]

Below is the link to my sourdough. I have to thank those in the SourdoughStarter subreddit for helping me troubleshoot my starter, Holden (started with a rye mix.) Turns out, Holden really likes plain old Lake Ontario tap water. These being my first loaves, I am open to critiques. I'm not too fussy about air pockets and having a big distinct "ealip" thing on the top. It tasted great and I look forward to Holden getting older, making more loaves and carving patterns, and developing my skills.
I used the beginner's sourdough recipe from Farmhouse on Boone for reference, and my starter was an adaptation of KA.
https://imgur.com/a/s25qsd2

I believed in fairies as a kid. More than believed in them. I think something terrible happened to me, and I've just buried it until now.
Call me a typical emotion-bottling man, but I have never considered therapy. No matter what I went through, no matter how many times I thought to myself, verbatim, that I should talk to someone about this, I just never thought of it as an option. It simply wasn't on my roster. It was just one of those things that existed on a separate plane of existence than I was living in, never to cross paths or interact lest the universe collapse in on itself.
I have no problem with therapy, don't get me wrong. It isn't like I don't understand the overall appeal. I have plenty of friends who swear by it, swear it has helped them tremendously, including my wife. It just wasn't ever something I thought was in my cards.
"I just never really thought about it," I told Alice one evening, when she had brought the topic up once again after dinner.
There was a serene sense of peace wafting through the entire house that day, and I was feeling content. It was a Sunday, and swimming season, so we had dropped Emmie off that morning at the public pool for practice and gone straight to our favorite breakfast place. The rest of the day was filled with all the conversation that had built up over the week, all the topics we couldn't fully dig into with each other while babysitting our eight year old, and lounging, all crammed in between sporadic bursts of housework and paperwork we had to catch up on. It was the perfect day, in my humble opinion. It was a lovely moment of peace in the midst of a chaotic life, as is life with kids. And now the sounds of Mario Kart drifted in from the living room, Emmie's squeals cutting through the cheery music every now and then, causing Alice and I to share small smiles of acknowledgement.
Oh, to be a child again. Still a little drenched from a post-swimming shower, full of chili, eyes glowing with the reflection of a television screen.
"Well, maybe you should." My wife was scooping leftover chili into a Tupperware with a ladle. Her hair had been tied up like it was every day after dinner, as if she planned to run a marathon rather than do the cleaning up. She wasn't looking at me, dialed into the task at hand.
It's crazy how some parts of my memory could be so good, and others nonexistent.
I reached over from where I stood before the dishwasher, sliding my arm around her waist. She gave me a look, like, what?
"I just don't think it's for me, babe," I muttered, resting my mouth on her shoulder as if I was trying to skip her ears and speak right through her skin. "You know those things make me uncomfortable sometimes."
She let out a half groan, half sigh, setting down the container and the ladle and turning to face me, draping her arms over my shoulders.
"Everything makes you uncomfortable, John."
I smiled, letting my hands fall to her hips. I knew her frustrated act was just that, an act, at least for the most part.
"It's good for you," she continued pointedly, reaching up to tap her pointer finger against my forehead as I swayed her back and forth to a nonexistent tune. "Like medicine. And I know for a fact there are some things you need to work through."
I feigned offense. "You think I'm some kind of nut job?"
"Everyone needs therapy," she snarled, pulling out of my arms, but she didn't resist when I reached out and drew her back in. "Not just nut jobs."
And that was how most of those conversations went. Some got a little more heated, ending with a lightly slammed door (so as not to wake our daughter) and a whisper-shout of "this is why you need therapy!"
I feel I'm making it sound bad, but it wasn't. Even our more serious fights never quite felt like fights. They felt like playing. We were like two cats, biting and tackling and swishing our tails, but never baring our teeth to hiss. I never felt genuine, full-bodied anger towards her, and I knew she felt the same. It sounds sappy, but we were just very in love. I sometimes felt that we had never actually left the honeymoon phase.
I'm also making it sound like that conversation was incredibly common, and it wasn't. It came up maybe once every few months. I knew she was just looking out for me. She knew me better than anyone.
We had met through mutual friends, and we had initially bonded over our terrible childhoods. We both had moms who were out of the picture, and over emotional, over compensating dads, although this manifested in vastly different ways. Alice's mother left her father for a D-list rockstar type, following him on his state wide tour. She would sometimes send Alice letters or postcards from the road, although her dad wouldn't always let her keep them if they seemed to be stained with blood or seemed to have made contact with any strange white powders.
Her dad coped with anger. He never laid a hand on her, but his shouting and the sounds of glass bottles smashing against the walls kept her up almost every night. During the days he'd take her out, buy her things, go mini golfing and bowling and to the movies. Anything to seem more fun than her mother.
My mother passed away on my seventh birthday. She was driving home from work, which was at a law firm half an hour away from our house, when it began to rain. She was texting my dad her ETA when she ran a red light and a semi truck T-boned her, completely obliterating her car.
After that, everything changed. My seventh birthday could've been my twenty-first. At night it was the worst. I remember sitting with my dad as he cried, curled up in a sobbing ball on the filthy living room carpet, whimpering like a kicked puppy. He would scream and wail so loud the walls shook. He would say, over and over as if I wasn't hearing him, sometimes mumbling and sometimes shrieking, "She was cut in half. I'm sorry sir, she's gone. No, there's no chance she survived, she was completely cut in half."
The days were almost worse. During the day, when he could decrease the helpless wails into weeping at the very least, his attention turned to me. He tried to get something out of me, almost silently begging me to break down with him. Every other second it was, "How are you feeling, son? Do you understand what's happening? You poor thing, you must be devastated, your mommy is gone... Don't you want to cry?"
But I couldn't indulge, and I didn't want to. I had to wash the sheets, because he'd pissed them again, and I didn't want him to sleep in it and smell like pee when he took me to school the next day. I had to vacuum the carpet, so the next time he curled up on it and begged God to take him too, when he finally stood up, his cheek wouldn't be caked in crumbs and dust.
I don't know if I ever truly mourned. My mother's death was more like an absence, as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and carved a chunk out of my side, or snipped off a limb. I could still feel her, I could still talk to her, but all I got back was a deep ache and a crushing silence.
I hated how people reacted when I told them my mom was dead, and had been since I was a little boy. I hated the looks on their faces when they asked how she died, and when I told them. How their mouths fell open dumbly and their eyebrows twisted and contorted in sympathetic horror. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know," they said, as if there was vomit rising in their throats, and I wanted to say, "Well, you fucking asked, didn't you?"
Alice never reacted like that. In fact, she never really even asked me what happened. We were on our second date, nursing beers while leaning against the pool table a a dingy speakeasy, when she told me about her own mom. It was the first time in a long time I actually felt like the conversation was open, like I could respond and she would listen and care, but not too much. Not an uncomfortable amount. When I told her about my parents she didn't say anything, and her pretty face didn't contort. She leaned over the corner of the pool table and kissed me on the cheek, took my hand.
The day she found out she was pregnant, we promised each other to be better, to not let our child ever have to grieve alone or feel the very specific hopeless terror that only a parent can cause.
So maybe I should have listened to her. Maybe I should have gone to therapy the first time she brought it up, the first time she told me how it had helped her get through her own terrible memories. But if I'm being honest, I didn't think I had anything to get through. I had left it in the past, I had coped so far in my own somewhat crooked way, I didn't want to dig any of that back up. I didn't want to be put back in that place where I was expected to talk, to cry, to open up. It made my skin crawl just thinking about it.
"I was always the therapist," I would say to her with a crooked grin. "And I like it that way."
Then, the dreams started.
I could tell you I don't know what triggered them, I don't know why it was now. But that wouldn't be the truth. I know exactly why I started to remember.
At first, they were brief. Nightmares that I couldn't quite recall or explain, waking up disoriented and a little sick. The rest of my day would feel strange, like I was surrounded by a thick fog. Eventually, they started to wake me up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and screaming, scaring the shit out of my wife. Once I ran to the bathroom and threw up, barely making it to the toilet. That was when the word "therapy" came up again.
It feels like I've been in a coma for twenty years, and I'm just waking up now.
It's so strange how different the world looks to a child.
I believed in fairies as a kid. Laugh it up if you want. When I turned four, my aunt brought me this book - we've all had one, I think. It was one of those huge hardcover books filled with information about something mythical, with little patches of fabric to simulate a mermaid's scales or a dragon's claw.
Mine was about fairies, and it was so real to me. My mom would sit up with me later than she probably should have, reading to me, placing my hand on the textures to feel. I wanted to know everything about them, I became obsessed, and naturally, my parents played along. They bought me toys, books... every year I had a fae themed birthday cake, and any kid who dared to giggle behind their hands weren't invited to next year's celebration.
When I was old enough to use the internet, supervised of course, I began further research. My mom helped me navigate Wikipedia first, and they had plenty of information to sustain me for a while. My interest turned from wings and magical powers to different types of fae from every corner of the earth, mushroom rings and their alleged distaste for iron. While I still wasn't very good at reading, I would just look at the pictures until she got home from work.
When my mom died, the fairy memorabilia began to amp up. My aunt bought me new books, gave them to me wrapped and tied with ribbons with tear filled eyes, and my dad brought them up whenever he thought I needed comforting and felt strong enough to leave the house. "Wanna go look in the forest for fairies, son?"
I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I began to worship the fairies. I was convinced they lived in the forest behind my house, just behind each tree I looked at, hiding from me. I would spend my weekends escaping into the woods with a bucket and a cheap pair of binoculars, positive that this time, this day, I would see one.
At night, when my dad finally passed out in his own puddle of tears and other bodily fluids, I would pray to them. I never believed in God, we weren't a particularly religious family, and besides, I had seen what good He had done for my dad thus far. But I believed in the fairies.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
They never answered.
Until they did.
It was a Friday. I remember now, I'm not sure how I could have forgotten. After school I had sprinted into the shade of the trees before my dad could stop me, gripping the hem of my shirt in my fist, the thin fabric bearing the weight of two handfuls of the shiniest silverware and most colorful buttons I could find in our dusty cabinets.
I had a plan that day. I was going to lure them to me.
My path began in a clearing where I thought a ring of mushrooms may have begun to grow... but even without that, it was just the perfect spot for fairies. I could picture them flitting between the trees, chirping to each other happily, picking wildflowers to weave into flower crowns.
I walked backwards all the way back to my bedroom window, dropping another item every few steps. When I got inside and looked out my window, I could see my trail of shiny things curve through the overgrown grass in our backyard and disappear into the trees.
I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself. Tonight, surely, they would come to me. They would show themselves, and they would help me. But after another few late hours of coddling my father, finally convincing him to drink some water and get in bed, I was exhausted. I completely forgot about my plan. When I got to my room I collapsed on my mattress, not even bothering to undress before I closed my eyes.
Then I heard it. The scratching.
I opened my eyes. The moonlight shining through my bedroom window casted strange shadows across my ceiling, shadows of the swaying grass and the creaking trees.
It was strangely silent, other than the sound. Usually there was lots of noise, or at the very least a few crickets, but not tonight. Tonight, I realized, I couldn't even hear the wind.
I sat up slowly, as if in a dream, and looked toward my window. I couldn't see anything out there, nothing glaringly obvious at least, that could be making that noise.
The scratching turned to a tap. Tap tap tap, like a fingernail against a glass. It had a playful air to it, like someone was saying, look over here!
I stood, rubbing my eyes, and stumbled over. The tapping stopped abruptly when I got to the window and peered outside, out to the dark yard, pitch black if not for the moon's glow. The grass didn't sway, the trees didn't creak. I frowned and unlatched the window, sliding it up above my head.
I was right, there was no wind. Not even a gust. Everything was still outside, like it was frozen. I actually started to believe it was frozen, that time had stopped completely somehow, before I saw it.
My trail of silverware and buttons. Sparkling softly in the moonlight.
Disappearing.
It began where the path met the trees, curving off where I couldn't follow it anymore. A fork disappeared right before my eyes, right on the edge. Just vanished, as if someone who was invisible had picked it up and stuffed it in a pocket very quickly.
Then another went, a spoon. Then a particularly large gold button. Whatever was taking them was doing what I had wanted, it was taking my bait, it was coming to me. And it was as if whatever had tapped at my window had wanted me to see this, wanted to show me.
But something felt very, very wrong.
This wasn't how I had pictured it. There was no twinkling, tiny winged thing at my window, winking at me before dashing back into the safety of the trees. There were no secrets being whispered in my ear, no fairy dust or promises of better things.
Something about this wasn't right. It felt like a mimicry, almost a mockery, of what I had imagined. Like something was trying to give me what I wanted, but was rusty at it.
I didn't want this anymore.
My stomach twisted and my hands shook as I pulled the window back down slowly, watching more glittery things disappear from the grass, growing closer and closer. As soon as it was closed I quickly locked it and pulled the blinds shut, turning my back to the window as if something would happen that I didn't want to see.
Nothing happened. The deafening silence continued for a few seconds as my ears strained to hear anything else happening outside. Then the wind picked up, and the sounds of crickets, muffled by my closed window, filled the night air.
I don't remember when I fell asleep that night, I just know I felt unnerved and jumpy for a while. I woke up the next morning feeling guilty. Had the fairies really come last night? Maybe they had come to talk to me, to bring me gifts, favors, and what had I done? I had closed my window on them. I felt ungrateful. Why had I even been scared? Because it was dark outside? What was I, a baby?
When I opened my window and peered outside, I gasped. The trail of silverware and buttons was completely gone, all the way up to the last one, which I had placed on my windowsill. In its place was a shoe. I didn't know what kind of shoe it was, but it looked sort of nice, fancy. I remember smiling out the window as I opened it, as if they were looking, and taking my gift.
How could I forget that night? How could I have forgotten what happened after? I feel crazy, either like I made it all up or like I've made up everything since then, like my life isn't truly my own.
I remember telling my dad. I remember saying, "Dad, the fairies came last night!" and the absent smile he gave me.
Until I showed him their gift. The shoe. Instantly his face went pale and he snatched it from my hands, staring at me as if I was something unholy.
"Where did you get this, Johnny?"
"The fairies, dad, I told you!"
He didn't respond. Just gave me another long, solemn look, before turning away from me, still holding the present I received close to his chest. I was upset, but I knew better than throwing a tantrum. That would be too much emotion anyways, too uncomfortable. Even back then, I didn't know how to handle those things.
I didn't show him their gifts after that. I didn't want to risk having them taken away. I tried not to be scared of the fairies, even though they always came at night, but I didn't go to my window when they came anymore. I read everywhere that fairies didn't particularly like to be seen, even though this one seemed to want to be. It always began with tapping, but otherwise complete silence that almost felt like it was swallowing me... and eventually the tapping would stop, the silence would pass, and I would fall asleep. In the morning there was always another gift for me, sitting on my window sill. A sparkly gold ring, the other matching shoe, a hat... I smiled when I took every one, wanting them to know I was grateful. And I would leave things for them too, little sweets or shiny things like coins or paperclips that I found on the ground at school.
Things seemed to get better with my dad for a while. He kept to himself more, he was quieter. At night he would cry softly in his room, rather than his uproarious wails that I used to have to quell so the neighbors wouldn't come knocking. During the day, he would talk to me, but more casually. He didn't ask me how I was feeling anymore, or tell me to let it out.
I hoped this was the fairies. I felt invincible, like I had a secret superpower that no one knew about. I was friends with fairies.
Then one night, everything changed.
It started with the tapping, as always. That night I was fast asleep, catching up on well earned rest since the nightly therapy sessions had ceased.
The tapping woke me. It was that loud. It was louder than usual... but it seemed like it stopped abruptly as soon as I raised my head to look.
That was different...
That night, I had left my blinds up and my window open by accident. Since that first night, even though I wasn't scared anymore, I had always closed them... but this time, I must have forgotten.
It was silent outside. It seemed darker than usual. I could almost make out something, a shape, way on the other side of the yard, but it was too dark and I was too far away to tell.
That feeling from that first night retuned. A twisting like a hand reaching into my stomach and mixing things around, a heavy feeling in my chest like someone had stolen all of the air from my room, even though the window was open. The silence seemed to crush me, bearing down on me from every angle, making my ribs hurt.
The feeling that something was very wrong.
I don't remember deciding to stand: looking back, I have no idea why I would do that in my state of fight or flight. I don't know if I consciously chose to. I don't remember walking over, but I remember getting there, my hands on the windowsill and my head poking out into the completely still night air.
There was something there. On the edge of the trees. Right where I had seen that first fork disappear into thin air. I squinted, leaning further into the darkness to try and make out what it was.
When I finally did, the outline taking shape as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to shake uncontrollably. I remember that I tried to scream, but no sound would come. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare.
Two legs stood in front of the trees, facing me. Two legs, a blood-soaked pair of slacks, no shoes on the purple, swollen feet. And a jagged, violent rip in the torso where the rest of my mother's body had been severed from its lower half.
It took me a while to realize that the legs weren't standing on their own. They began to move, jerking clumsily toward the window, like something I couldn't see was struggling to hold them up. I finally forced myself out of my trance and fell to my carpet, vomiting.
I don't remember much else about that night yet. My dad came running when I started crying, I'm sure, but he didn't see what I saw. My mom's legs were gone, or hidden. Because they weren't for him.
They were for me.
We moved after that. Before now if you had asked me why we moved so far away so suddenly, I probably would have mumbled something about the grief, and it being too hard to stay where my mother had died. But I remember why now.
It was because the next morning, when I checked my windowsill, there was a hand. My mother's hand. Purple and stiff, and missing her gold wedding ring. Reaching, fingers rested against the glass, like it was trying to get in.
Like it had been tapping.
I don't want to think about what else it might have brought, had we stayed.
That thing, whatever it was, wasn't my mother, and it wasn't a fairy. I had invited something else with all my praying, with all my naive and innocent beliefs, and with all my bottled up emotions. I had invited it, and I had let it in.
And then I had forgotten everything. Maybe I bottled that up, too.
Now I remember. Now I'm having nightmares, and waking up with that sick feeling in my gut, my eyes jumping to our closed bedroom window.
Because a week ago, my daughter woke me up very early in the morning my jumping on our bed. A week ago, she shook me awake, her eager smile stretching all the way across her face. A week ago, she told me, "Dad, the fairies came last night!"
She showed me a doll, a ballerina, with a pink tutu and beautiful long blonde hair.
And now, with all these terrible memories hitting me like cold water to the face, only one keeps me awake at night.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
It has granted two of my wishes, in its own twisted way. My father grew distant from me and my mother was brought back in pieces.
I'm happy now. But I don't have peace. I don't think I'll ever fully have peace, at least not with a child and a wife to try and provide for, and not with all of these memories.
So what has it come back for?

Hello i have a question because i think im not doing something right. This is my first dog and i dont know how to handle a situation like this i have Cane Corso boy 11months old and he is overly friendly with everyone. As this is my first dog i do spoil him a lot pet him excercise him everyday play with him always give him his favorite food everything a dog would ever wish for. Now i thought that his overly friendly personality would change as he gets older but i was wrong. I cant take him for a walk as he is overly friendly with everyone especially other dogs he just wants to play with them even tho that dog may not be friendly i wanted to ask is it possible to correct this behavior? I dont really know how to teach him that not all people or dogs that he sees are friendly. I dont know what to do please help.

You might be asking yourself: What sort of place is Night City? Well, Night City is the place where the lawless and wealthy rule with an iron vise. Where the morally grey run rampant in the streets while the top 1% sit in their pristine "ivory towers" and watch over the rest of the unfortunate in total safety. Crime? A daily occurence, another regular day for everyone and as easy as breathing for most. Guns? Everybody has to one-up another. Bring an AJAX? Someone is bound to have an HMG. Friends? It's best to keep an eye watching your back before someone sticks a knife in it. It's a dog-eat-dog kind of place in Night City.
So why do people come to Night City? Is it to seek fortune and status? Or to escape from their old lives? Perhaps they are simply here in the endless corp rat race. In this God-forsaken city, you can be anyone. Do anything. Whether you choose to run the Net, become a lawman, carve your name into the underbelly of Night City's merc business, blow shit up, or just simply want to sightsee, you can be anyone. That's what Night City is. The city of dreams.
So, who will you be, choom?
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Here's what you can expect from Elysium: —> Phantom Liberty-friendly! Don't own Phantom Liberty? Explore Dogtown in Elysium! —> Both server-wide and individually-driven lore —> Friendly and accepting community —> Constantly improving to give you the best possible server experience —> Active owner (Feel free to ping them for help! They'll answer!) —> New to Cyberpunk? We'll help! —> Clean and streamlined roleplaying channels —> Community-made factions —> No limits on creativity
Here's the current Work-In-Progress features that you can expect in the future: —> Simple to understand, but deep combat system built from the ground up —> Quest and raiding system —> Character inventory system —> Community-made custom Iconic equipment —> Community-made shops and shop items

I was working on something when I started up a conversation with someone new and this old woman behind me knocked over her cane and it hit me. Shocked, I turned around and picked it up for her, turn back to the person I‘d just met and she wouldn’t pick up the convo again. idk if it was the look of being shocked to be hit out of nowhere, or if interrupting the convo to pick up the cane gave her the “ew.” Should I be mad at the old woman? I don’t think so. It might’ve been an accident.
But what’s not an accident is suddenly going cold towards someone because they got distracted for a moment to pick up an old woman’s cane.

My normal posts are 2-5 paragraphs. This is long because it's a starter.
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The sloping ground around the Kiaurk family mesa had been sculpted into shelves or terraces, and it was on one of those upper terraces that Kiaurk Nshurr now lounged beneath a pergola anchored to the striated stone face behind her. The mesa rose at her back: an enormous, looming, almost sheer outcrop that her family's dwellings had been carved into the face of. Wide, shallow steps cut into the artificial (but entirely convincing) sandstone wound their way up between landings and porticos leading inward, between tiny balconies shaded by bright solid-colored canopies, between rooms with flat walls and rounded corners that came jutting out to shadow the steps below. Rriigkhans rarely used glass as window barriers; smooth-edged holes had been cut through the rock in varying shapes and sizes. It could be difficult to tell which apertures were windows and which were entryways. A physical barrier that kept out the elements was obsolete in all but the crudest dwellings, though some of these larger holes were curtained with braided string or strips of cloth that served a purely decorative purpose.
From her high vantage point Nshurr could see the shelves stretching out below her as the base of the mesa leveled out to flattish terrain that was a wonderland of vegetation in muted rainbow colors: mustard yellows, clay reds, earthy browns and the occasional dash of sage or dusty blue. This scrubland lay like a blanket around everything below that was not part of the village between the mesas. Down there, adobe compounds never taller than two or three storeys seemed so squat compared to the mesas that Nshurr could see towering in the distance, many of those family mesas only a few hours walk from her own if she traveled by foot. The village sprawled, with tile parkways winding in serpentine fashion between the various buildings, courtyards, parks, and ponds. There were no property lines, no clear division of the land into neat little plots owned by the individuals who lived and worked in these places. It all seemed to be part of a whole, with a single unifying aesthetic. The village housed those rriigkhans of the lower castes, the kharratah and chelhautah, and the humans which were a caste all their own, haukagh-ar, except for a small number who lived with their masters in the caverns of the mesas or up on the plateau.
This planet, Sgarrl, terraformed over three hundred years ago, was home to more human servants than any other Ssaarian world – aside from Earth, of course, discovered eighty years ago. The fact that humans shared so much in common with rriigkhans made them the perfect species to incorporate into the rriigkhan caste structure as servants. They breathed the same mix of gases and required similar gravities, and their nimble little fingers were very useful for all sorts of work.
The rriigkhan language was not necessarily too complex for humans, but it was wholly unfamiliar – too many phonemes that did not fit comfortably in human mouths, from grunts to huffs, to rolling trills that might by voiced or not, sometimes rumbling out like a purr. To a human, Nshurr's name was a sigh and a trill, and yet she was accustomed to humans vocalizing her name in their heavy, slurring way: Na-Shuurr! Nasher! Sometimes simply: ɽ͡r! which she recognized more easily as her name, or at least part of it, and not some random sounds.
Still, despite the weird pidgin humans had made of her language and their English, she liked the little creatures. She had come to live with her Grandmother on Sgarrl only days ago, and had never encountered them before. The males only stood as tall as her collar. The females were shorter still, much like the males of her own species.
To human eyes Nshurr was felinoid, with a muscular swimmer's body and the broad muzzle of a big cat, with watchful, forward-facing predator's eyes that seemed unexpectedly expressive, because rriikghans had almost as many muscles around their eyes as humans did around their mouths to convey the nuances of emotion. Despite being larger than even many Earth men, she was considered sleek by rriigkhan standards. She made up for that with her broader crest.
The rriigkhan crest was something like the crest of Utahceratops – a keratinized plate growing up out of the skull, except divided into three lobes instead of two, with scalloped edges along the outer rim. Unlike depictions of Utahceratops, the rriigkhan crest was not covered by skin. At least, not on the top. Thick ropy veins squiggled under velvet fur on the underside, closer to the neck. (A thick, arching neck muscular enough to support the weight of that crest meant that Rriigkhans walked with a stoop that made them seem hunchbacked, to humans.) The surface of the plate on top was often rough, even bumpy or corrugated like deer antlers in some areas, smooth in others. Every female crest had four tines jutting from the front – a pair several inches above the eyes, and another pair further up. Directly above the lowest set of tines were twin holes, the howrf channels, just big enough for a human to insert a finger. These holes were very much like nostrils – much deeper, but damp inside, and lined with short, fine hairs to protect the sensitive mucous membrane from debris. The organs housed within these channels were the heart of rriigkhan culture, the foundation of all relationships, of sex.
Male rriigkhans, of course, had only their neotonous crests: diminutive, mostly smooth with rounded edges, without tines or howrf channels. Cute.
Nshurr's crest was wider than average, her upper tines spaced further apart, and combined with a compact face this made her look top-heavy. (A human might say that she was more snow leopard than lion.) Most female crests did not interfere with the movement of the ears – highly mobile, highly expressive paddle shaped things – but the edges of Nshurr's crest did jut out enough to almost shield them.
That her crest was weighty, that it was inconvenient, that she was often aware of it – this was Nshurr's pride. Her long tail curled in pleasure when she caught males looking at it. Humans seemed to be intimidated by it sometimes, as if she might decide to gore them with her “horns.” She considered herself a confident person; not a braggart, but self-assured, and to carry her jhekaah so visibly pleased her to no end.
Her fur was an almost peachy off-white, but a mask of pale peach shaded each seafoam green eye. The mask blended into the white further up her forehead until fur gave way to bone-tan crest, and was split between her eyes by the white of her nose. Oblong spots in that same peachy color, each blending from dark to light, streaked down her sides.
These weren't the natural colors of her distant ancestors. It was unheard of to see a rriigkhan who was not gene-modified in some way, even if those modded genes had been part of rriigkhan life for so long that no one thought of them as mods any longer. She also thought nothing of the subtitles her augmented reality implant displayed whenever a human spoke, AI translated to help her decipher the pidgin. AR was simply a part of her, had been since she was a kit.
Reclining as she was on a padded lounger in front of an iron brazier, full of cold ashes from last night's fire, Nshurr was dressed in a pale coral shift only a few shades darker than the peach of her fur. Medallions trailing fringes of cloth had been sewn onto the front bottom half of the knee-length garment. A row of those ornate medallions defined a plunging neckline that bared much of her chest, muscular and broad, possibly even masculine to a human. Her breasts were lower on her body and similar in appearance to a mare's udders: long nipples on a pudge of fat nestled close together on the pelvis, just above the place where her thighs joined her body. They were only small lumps beneath the shift when Nshurr stretched out her legs so that the thin fabric fell across them. It was the roundness of her hips and buttocks that marked her female to the human eye. (As if her crest didn't make that obvious!)
She was listening to the sound of two younger female cousins wrestling on a nearby terrace, and although from her vantage point Nshurr could not see them, she could imagine the scene from what she heard: Fherou and Lahk growling while they grappled with their arms, the crack of crest hitting crest and then the scrape of tine sliding against tine. Each was fighting to control the other's head, each trying to bite the other. It wasn't easy when each had a shaggy ruff to protect her neck, and any attempt to bite the other's face would be thwarted by an interposing crest. Rriigkhan hands were less dexterous than human hands, more pawlike with stubby fingers, but capable of delivering hard blows, and once or twice Nshurr heard a cousin snarl in response to a strike against her body.
The competitive pheromones her cousins exuded from their unextended howrfs, quite unconsciously, were beginning to make Nshurr's own heart beat faster. The end of her long tail, where it hung down from the reclining chair, lashed in agitation. She was beginning to imagine sinking her teeth into someone's skin herself, and if her cousins had not been so much younger and smaller than herself she might have gone down to their terrace to show them a thing or two. It was putting her off the human flute music she'd been listening to, fed directly into her own brain through her implant for her private enjoyment. (Certain aspects of human culture were very popular here on Sgarrl; she'd been curious about it.)
She did not feel like going inside to escape the pheromones; Nshurr craved the warmth of the sun on her fur, not the cool stone and artificial light of those warrens. Most of her male cousins had gone into the village for boating today. Well, perhaps she would go down and join them after all.
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OOC Information:
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For this prompt I imagine you'd play a human servant, probably a new arrival to Sgarrl but maybe someone who was born there. Even though I've set up a situation where my character would have a lot of power and yours very little, I want to clarify that I'm not interested in abusing your character I am looking for a slow burn interspecies romance that develops naturally. This story may deal with power imbalances and even speciesism, but I'd like to explore those topics realistically.
I want to explore all aspects of loving relationship... Flirting, cuddling, kissing, lots of romantic scenes and character growth. My “type” that I'm most attracted to are men with average bodies in the 40-60 age range, with realistic personality flaws. I am more than willing to tailor my character's personality and physical attributes to suit your tastes, within reason. I appreciate partners willing to do the same.
I prefer to reply more than once a day. 2-3 replies per day would be ideal, but I understand life gets in the way. I usually write 2-5 paragraphs, or 150-450 words per post. This starter is much longer than my typical post length, but my lengths vary according to need. If I'm introducing a new character or setting a scene, my post might go up to 1,000 words.
Please send a writing sample if you have none in your post history. No need to custom write anything for me, old samples are fine. Click here to PM me!