tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78108814491811625182024-03-21T12:05:16.437-05:00Dark & TwistyAlliyah Gallowshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08577646164033291621noreply@blogger.comBlogger125125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-69052957202370752532024-03-17T03:56:00.009-05:002024-03-17T04:24:17.045-05:00The Last Princess<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_IyJtgjw_UVYNkTT__rwEECH_gyZDOXnzj-JkKDVFZrfRg3z9tkkGQHY_XoriTPQzp_HnzId3T9XIqKf_a2SLAmf70d3OJDk3Jx6_BrGBlJPtR85uvdwpstgyU7rCmZOsWJT7TeG-hb4GKaI1Lv5t96UIUIuEENbkUTHo0Z00R-jQEaLkVePsVyPY3oW9/s1110/tll_banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="1110" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_IyJtgjw_UVYNkTT__rwEECH_gyZDOXnzj-JkKDVFZrfRg3z9tkkGQHY_XoriTPQzp_HnzId3T9XIqKf_a2SLAmf70d3OJDk3Jx6_BrGBlJPtR85uvdwpstgyU7rCmZOsWJT7TeG-hb4GKaI1Lv5t96UIUIuEENbkUTHo0Z00R-jQEaLkVePsVyPY3oW9/w640-h262/tll_banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><i>Previously: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2024/03/thorley.html">Thorley</a></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I shouldn't have left him." Gabriel's tone was dead as he pulled open the drapes at the inn, letting the morning light through. His movements were stiff and jerky. "I was the last to see him alive before he hurled himself from the balcony."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"There's nothing you could've done," Cyprian told him, half-groaning as he painfully took a seat by the fire. "You can't save everyone, cousin; I keep telling you that."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"You don't understand, cousin," Gabriel turned to him, coming towards the prince and taking off his cloak. He tossed it over another chair. "Thorley was the viscountess's <i>ninth </i>betrothal. Her people think she's cursed." He paused, as though realizing. "She's probably devastated right now."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Perhaps," Cyprian nodded stiffly, his voice tight. "But her misfortune may be our gain. You say this viscountess is the same girl who survived the dragon at Aurea?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Yes," Gabriel. "Elodie, and her sister Floria."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Yet Elodie was the only one officially proclaimed royal blood," Cyprian pointed out. "She was the only sister to marry Prince Henry. That makes her the last real Princess of Aurea."<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel cringed. "She hates that, Highness."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"But it's the truth," his cousin pressed. "Which means if <i>you </i>wed her, you could unite our kingdoms, and end the war."</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I am <i>not </i>marrying Elodie," Gabriel shuddered. "And even if I did, the Ilesti won't care. They will continue to resist your father's attempts at annexation."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"You know as I do that not all of Aurea was destroyed," Cyprian said. "We can rally local support if we return with Elodie--"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"She will absolutely <i>not </i>return to Aurea," Gabriel stood his ground. "It's been an almost a year since those barbarians tried to sacrifice her, and even I can tell she can't sleep."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"This war is costing our people far more than just money," Cyprian finally snapped. "Now, you saved my life to avoid becoming prince--yes, cousin; I <i>know</i>--and it worked. I'm alive, I'm back in command, and my first duty is to protect our kingdom. I can <i>order </i>you to marry that girl, but I'm hoping it doesn't come that. I'm hoping you'll remember all the loyal soldiers of Liria we've lost and all the friends we've buried." The prince paused, drilling his eyes into Gabriel's. "And I'm hoping you'll realize how many lives we can save."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">To Gabriel's horrified surprise, the Bayfords were neither offended nor even fazed by the proposition. If anything, they were eerily calm.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The party decorations were still up in Bayford Hall; a cozy hearth burned, and Elodie looked strangely relaxed in the wake of her betrothed's death, casually sipping jasmine tea while her mother and Prince Cyprian did all the talking.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel sat numbly aside, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I know this is sudden," Cyprian was saying, "and I know this isn't how things are done among the civilized."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Oh, I assure Your Highness, Bayford is anything but civilized," Lady Alinor blinked without a shred of humor.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Cyprian looked Gabriel, who resisted the urge to snicker. <i>Oh, that's right...he's not used to these people yet</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Be that as it may," the prince recovered, "we have an opportunity. We need legitimacy in Aurea."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"What for exactly?" Alinor finally asked.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Aurea is wealthy, this is known," Cyprian admitted, "but that's not why we're interested. Liria is has been a stable beacon of civilization for over a century. We cannot allow the Ilesti to enrich themselves so they can turn around and attempt to expand their new territory--which they will. Now that the dragons are gone, they've become quite bold."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Will I have to leave home?" Elodie asked quietly.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"No," Cyprian shook his head. "But we will have to send messengers to all the kingdoms. Make a formal, royal proclamation. So once you agree to this, there's no backing out. Your withdrawal could also embolden the Ilesti."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Very well," Elodie nodded. "I accept the proposal."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The Lirians exchanged stunned looks. When they said nothing, she continued.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Until the wedding, Lord Walling will reside at the temple; all his needs will tended to and he will be granted an allowance until--"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"My lady," Cyprian gently interrupted, "it's customary for the <i>groom's </i>family to handle all financial matters, including the matter of the dowry."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Oh, right," Elodie said flatly. "I forgot." She looked at Gabriel. "You're a real lord."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I'm sure my father will agree to a sum worthy of a princess," Cyprian smiled kindly.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"You'll still have to stay at the temple," Elodie insisted, eyes on Gabriel, as though his cousin hadn't even spoken. "It's become something of a custom now."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel nodded stiffly without speaking. An arranged marriage had been his unspoken nightmare for years. As it turned out, it was even worse than he'd ever imagined.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Cyprian was amused. "Gabriel's never favored brothels nor indulged drinking to excess," he assured the Bayfords.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Nevertheless," Elodie said more strictly, "he will take up residence in Thorley's old chamber effective immediately. Please have your things moved this afternoon."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel mutely nodded again, wanting all this to be over.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"This calls for celebration," Alinor announced, her tone equally flat as her daughter's. "You should both join us for supper this eve. Say, sunset?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Unlike Bayford Hall, the spacious betrothed chamber at the temple was shockingly lavish. Everything from the drapes to the rugs to the bedding was both new and blue. It was like stepping into the ocean's heart. The furniture was ornately, exquisitely carved; Gabriel had a large bed with long velvet drapes, a large desk and chair, and two more chairs near the hearth. It was far superior to his room at the inn; indeed, it was fit for a king.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>So...the Bayfords are actually wealthy</i>. He hadn't been sure before, but he could see it now. They clearly didn't care for wealth themselves; pursuit of wealth had nearly left their family in ruins.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Nice, isn't it?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel turned to see Floria behind him, smiling brightly. She was so young, possibly the youngest initiate at the temple.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"It is," he nodded politely. "Your family is most generous. Thank you."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"You're the first to say thanks," she told him, casually entering the room. "But I guess it makes sense; real lords have manners."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Most really don't," Gabriel hastily assured her. "In fact, the lords in my uncle's court tend to be quite boorish."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"All of Elodie's past betrotheds were boorish," Floria snorted with a cynicism far beyond her age. "Now, all of Thorley's meager belongings have been removed and the room thoroughly cleaned."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Indeed," Gabriel nodded again, sniffing the air. "I smell pine soap and juniper incense."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"And lavender water," Floria casually added. "Additional rooms on this floor have been prepared for the knights your cousin assigned you. The prince also intends to hire a manservant for you." She looked him over. "Of all the men we've hosted in this room, seems you'll be the most spoiled."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel offered a weak chuckle.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I will leave you to get settled, my lord," Flora curtsied before leaving. Gabriel closed the door behind her, removed his cloak and boots and sighed loudly as he laid down on his bed. The mattress soft, goose down, as were the pillows.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">With a slight approving moan, he slipped his hands under his pillow to get more comfortable, but to his surprise, felt a piece of folded paper.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I thought they cleaned</i>, he blinked, sitting up to examine it. <i>Probably just wiped the place down</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The crumpled paper had writing on both sides. The first side contained what appeared to be a poem or a song, but various verses were written in a different hand.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>"<i>Ten little lords, all in a line/One stray arrow, down to nine....</i>" Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Not this again." He skimmed the verses, confirming that at least three different people had written them.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The first several lines were written in a crisp, practiced hand, like those of a scholar or at least a secretary. Gabriel imagined that the writer was probably another one of Elodie's fake lords. He likely served an actual lord and probably thought he could pass for one because he was learned.</div><div><br /></div><div><div><i>Ten little lords, all in a line</i></div><div><i>One stray arrow, down to nine</i></div><div><i>Nine little lords, eating black dates</i></div><div><i>One chokes and we’re down to eight</i></div><div><i>Eight little lords, praying to heaven</i></div><div><i>Hungry one faints and down to seven</i></div><div><i><div>Seven little lords, carrying picks</div><div>One cave-in and we’re down to six</div><div>Six little lords take a carriage for a drive</div><div>Wheel pops off and we’re down to five</div></i></div><div><br /></div><div>The second writer was less practiced, with numerous errors and corrections. Gabriel surmised it was likely a craftsman who'd learned to write, but didn't have many opportunities to practice the skill. He was probably better with numbers.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Five little lords enamored with a whore</i></div><div><i>Brothel burns down and now there’s four</i></div><div><i>Four little lords climbing a tree</i></div><div><i>One falls down and now there are three</i></div><div><i>Three little lords all wrapped in blue</i></div><div><i>Plague takes one and now there’s two</i></div><div><br /></div><div>The last writer, Gabriel assumed, was Thorley. Not only because he was the last occupant of the chamber, but because the final lines were scribbled in the type of sloppy, inconsistent scrawl he ascribed to a drunk.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Two little lords listening to a tune</i></div><div><i>A poisoned cup</i></div><div><i>and now it’s just you.</i></div></div></div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-5955442705726478862024-03-17T03:55:00.017-05:002024-03-17T04:09:34.368-05:00Thorley<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_IyJtgjw_UVYNkTT__rwEECH_gyZDOXnzj-JkKDVFZrfRg3z9tkkGQHY_XoriTPQzp_HnzId3T9XIqKf_a2SLAmf70d3OJDk3Jx6_BrGBlJPtR85uvdwpstgyU7rCmZOsWJT7TeG-hb4GKaI1Lv5t96UIUIuEENbkUTHo0Z00R-jQEaLkVePsVyPY3oW9/s1110/tll_banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="1110" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_IyJtgjw_UVYNkTT__rwEECH_gyZDOXnzj-JkKDVFZrfRg3z9tkkGQHY_XoriTPQzp_HnzId3T9XIqKf_a2SLAmf70d3OJDk3Jx6_BrGBlJPtR85uvdwpstgyU7rCmZOsWJT7TeG-hb4GKaI1Lv5t96UIUIuEENbkUTHo0Z00R-jQEaLkVePsVyPY3oW9/w640-h262/tll_banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><i>Previously: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2024/03/shades-of-darkness.html">Shades of Darkness</a></i><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Bayford Hall was lit up when Gabriel arrived, much to his surprise. The chandelier was lit, along with the fire and multiple candelabras. The servants had decked the gloomy hall in flowers, and now they milled about the room, carrying trays of wine goblets.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It was an improvement upon the dreary hall; he could see now that the walls were actually painted blue; set against the backdrop of the blue walls, the colorfully dressed guests were actually quite elegant.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He spied the Viscountess Bayford near the window with a tall, slender man who was admittedly very handsome. Lord Thorley had tousled blond hair and a dazzling smile, and he looked the dashing hero in his cerulean doublet embroidered in silver and gold...while the Viscountess was still wearing black.</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel paused before going over; he wondered if perhaps the Viscountess was a shallow woman, taken in by flattery by good-looking men. If so, it would explain her problem actually getting them down the aisle to the altar.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The young couple was accepting greetings and well wishes from guests, so Gabriel got in line and waited until it was his turn. As he waited, the musicians finished setting up and began to play lively music with flutes, lutes, and drums.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Lord Walling," Elodie greeted when she finally saw him. "You came. This is Lord Thorley of Kamden, a city even further north than Bayford, if you can believe that."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"My lady," he nodded. "Congratulations on your betrothal."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"So this is the famed lord from Liria," Thorley grinned broadly. Now that he was close, Gabriel could see the young man was quite pale and drawn, with dark circles under his eyes and a slight shakiness. Not knowing if it was plague or nerves or simply a lack of drink, Gabriel chose to keep his distance. "I hear your cousin the prince woke up this evening."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Did he?" Gabriel's eyes widened, full of hope. "Is he walking? Talking?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Talking, yes," Elodie nodded, "if not coherently. He should be walking by tomorrow."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I should attend him them," Gabriel nodded, shoulders relaxing as an invisible weight lifted. "I'm sorry to leave early, my lady."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Floria!" Thorley cheered suddenly, as a very young girl came forward, bearing a pewter goblet. She greatly resembled the Viscountess, but wore priestess robes and flowers in her hair.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"My sister Floria," Elodie introduced. "Floria, this is Lord Gabriel Walling of Liria."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"My lord," Floria smiled brightly, before turning back to Thorley.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Floria is tasked with keep me sober," Thorley grinned again, accepting the cup from her. Gabriel noted the lack of humor this time. "She's making sure I only drink water tonight."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"You can drink wine later, Thorley," Floria assured him, before leaving to rejoin her fellow priestesses.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I'll send a cask to your chamber," Elodie rolled her eyes.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel knew he ought to leave to check on his cousin, but found himself pausing. "I hear you're staying at the temple."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"My betrothed doesn't trust me unless I'm under watchful eyes, day and night," Thorley shrugged, sipping his water and wincing. "Water is vile." Even so, he promptly drained the cup, as if by sheer habit.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"We live in a town where brothels burn down, my love, and you have been no saint," Elodie reminded him, her tone subtle yet biting.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel blinked rapidly, caught off guard.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Oh, look," Elodie raised her chin, "Mother Dorgan's taken the dance floor with her little birds."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel turned to see the old woman on the floor, smiling and laughing as she led her priestesses in a jaunty line dance. Despite being surrounded by girls a third her age, she was every bit as spry and nimble as they.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"She looks happy," he remarked.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"She loves being 'Mother'," Elodie snorted. Her tone softened and her eyes became distant. "She does it so well. She would've been a good mother." Her eyes flickered back to Gabriel. "She lost her own quite young, you know."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Explains why she dotes on her 'little birds'," Thorley snickered. "Doesn't force them to do anything they don't want to. Lord Walling, have you ever heard of a temple where the maidens are actually <i>discouraged</i> from being chaste?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel took that as his cue to go. "My lord, my lady...apologies for my early departure, but I must see to my cousin. Thank you for having me."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He turned and left quickly before anyone could object. Behind him, he could hear Elodie calling for her sister to bring Thorley more water.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Prince Cyprian was not awake when Gabriel arrived, so the young lord sat by him and waited. The prince's wounds were healed, his fever was broken, and he breathed easily, comfortably in his deep sleep. When the prince did not wake an hour later, Gabriel grew restless and began to explore the temple.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The maidens were gone, but the older priestesses had remained behind. They paid him no mind as he wandered the ancient halls. The temple was mostly empty as this hour; the sconces weren't even lit on the upper floors. But moonlight streamed through the wide stone windows, bathing the halls in ghostly light.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"<i>Four little lords climbing a tree</i></div><div><i>One falls down and now there are three....</i>"</div><div><br /></div><div>Gabriel's ears pricked up at the familiar voice. He drifted towards it as if in a dream, following its echo through the halls as it grew louder.</div><div><br /></div><div>"<i>Three little lords all wrapped in blue</i></div><div><i>Plague takes one and now there’s two....</i>"</div><div><br /></div><div>He eventually found Thorley alone on a balcony overlooking the inner city; the groom-to-be swigging from a bottle of wine.</div><div><br /></div><div>Gabriel's shoulders fell in disappointed. "Aren't you supposed be at <i>your </i>party, my lord?" he asked, barely hiding his annoyance. It seems so tasteless that Thorley had not only left, but had done so for the sake of drink.</div><div><br /></div><div>"It's a lie, you know," Thorley replied, turning unsteadily on his feet. "I'm no lord. I'm not even from fucking Kamden. She deserves better than me," he confessed after a pause, before drinking again. "The Viscountess has been most generous since my arrival in Bayford. I haven't even paid for a single thing."</div><div><br /></div><div>"You could still walk away," Gabriel told him. "Spare her the unhappiness of a drunken husband."</div><div><br /></div><div>"I thought I'd get under control once I got here," Thorley mumbled. "But I can't. I just can't. My father couldn't either. Nor his father."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Thorley--"</div><div><br /></div><div>"I can't leave her, Lord Walling," Thorley pushed back, his voice suddenly deep and firm.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Why?" Gabriel asked. "Because you need a home? Money? If you require employment, I can easily--"</div><div><br /></div><div>"I can't leave her because so many others have already left her," Thorley cut him off. "She's been disappointed too many times, and I can't...I can't just...."</div><div><br /></div><div>Gabriel's voice was leaden, heavy with disgust. "You're already disappointing her. You left her at a celebration thrown in your shared honor, all so you could drown yourself at the bottom of a bottle."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Once we are wed and I give her an heir, none of this will matter," Thorley sniffed deeply, nodding resolutely. "What happens to me won't matter. She will be finally free, and everyone will stop ridiculing her."</div><div><br /></div><div>It quickly dawned on Gabriel that this man was holding on to life just long enough for Elodie, and he couldn't stand to be near him. Gabriel turned and left without another word, returning to his cousin's side. He hadn't known what to expect upon arriving in Bayford, but all of this wasn't it.</div><div><br /></div><div>And it was none of his business, after all.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div><br /></div><div>At Bayford Hall, Emily entered the kitchens just before dawn to find the Widow Bayford herself already up and aging a large slab of meat with butter.</div><div><br /></div><div>"My lady," the serving girl blinked, "that's for us to do."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Nonsense," Alinor replied. Her hair was bound in a scarf and she was still wearing her a dressing gown. "Butcher's cart arrived early, which means Mother Dorgan will be arriving for her breakfast soon."</div><div><br /></div><div>"But that meat won't cure in time," Emily frowned slightly, half-amused.</div><div><br /></div><div>"I'm aware of that, Emily," Alinor nodded. "That's why I took out the ham she likes so much."</div><div><br /></div><div>"We <i>can </i>prepare your breakfast for you, my lady," Emily insisted.</div><div><br /></div><div>"'My lady,'" Alinor snorted, echoing the young girl as she layered the butter. "You know I was born a rope-maker's daughter?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Finest in the city, ma'am," the servant nodded politely.</div><div><br /></div><div>"I had no talent for ropes, of course," Alinor continued, "but I could work wonders in the kitchen. I often thought I'd end up cooking for a great house. Never imagined that great house would be my own. Is Elodie awake?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Emily nodded. "She requested a bath."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Of course she's awake," Alinor sighed in weary irritation. "You know what? Maybe we'll get lucky today. Maybe that idiot betrothed of hers will attend breakfast and offer an apology."</div><div><br /></div><div>The servant said nothing, betraying her doubt, but the widow didn't care.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Put the meat in the larder, and start breakfast," she ordered. "And have Wilona send up a bath for me as well."</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div><br /></div><div>"Fuck the gods."</div><div><br /></div><div>Gabriel opened his eyes to sit his cousin sitting up and grimacing. Jolting awake, he rose to his feet and came to stand by the prince's side.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Highness," he bowed slightly, beaming bright, "you've returned to us."</div><div><br /></div><div>"How long was I out?" Cyprian grimaced.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Not long," Gabriel shook his head. "The priestesses were able to heal all the arrow wounds, just as I said."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Any word from my father?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Liria's a great distance from here," Gabriel assured him. "But I can send another messenger. If it pleases you, we can leave tomorrow, at first light."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Gods, no," Cyprian shuddered. "Not that soon. I feel as though I journeyed to the underworld and back."</div><div><br /></div><div>"You very nearly did, cousin."</div><div><br /></div><div>Cyprian looked about himself. "This is the temple at Bayford."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes, Highness."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Hm," the prince murmured. "Do they have jasmine tea in this godforsaken place?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Gabriel grinned. "They do at the inn. I'll have you moved at once. I've secured comfortable lodgings."</div><div><br /></div><div>Cyprian lay back down and Gabriel practically skipped downstairs to the main floor. Now that the prince was awake, all attention would be on him. And with the war still raging in Aurea, their stay would be short-lived.</div><div><br /></div><div>For Bayford was indeed a godforsaken place, and he couldn't wait to leave.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Galeran," he commanded a knight, "send our fastest remaining rider to the king, and bring our carriage to the temple. His Highness is ready to relocate to the inn."</div><div><br /></div><div>"My lord," the knight bowed slightly, before leaving to obey. The priestesses were in a huddle this morning, trading frantic hushed whispers until Mother Dorgan came to disperse them and remind them of their duties. She spied Gabriel and came over to greet him.</div><div><br /></div><div>"My Lord Walling," she said brightly.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Mother," he bowed.</div><div><br /></div><div>She chuckled. "I never get tired of hearing that. I take it your prince is well?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"He is, madam."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Good news," she nodded. "Though not so good to counter the bad, I'm afraid." She paused. "Thorley is dead."</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Next: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2024/03/the-last-princess.html">The Last Princess</a></i></div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-20327456262461963042024-03-17T03:54:00.016-05:002024-03-17T04:40:42.590-05:00Shades of Darkness<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXkj9APV88NyRL9ihYk25eQ-PutNNEZVJwip7Bw_8gZibIjZXeFsPMsWlHkEOS_8y1ZU6k6KhCZHBA4KXqfMiblv6DrBeyQS6joWEKy-iDimOuWYULlE3oXuBUZ4gzMqtNiC22ppuBUFmqJ75cdBLVkPLbjfxpnRMDhJ6xLRNyLc-SDfl1VMdhnny09UZQ/s1110/tll_banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="1110" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXkj9APV88NyRL9ihYk25eQ-PutNNEZVJwip7Bw_8gZibIjZXeFsPMsWlHkEOS_8y1ZU6k6KhCZHBA4KXqfMiblv6DrBeyQS6joWEKy-iDimOuWYULlE3oXuBUZ4gzMqtNiC22ppuBUFmqJ75cdBLVkPLbjfxpnRMDhJ6xLRNyLc-SDfl1VMdhnny09UZQ/w640-h262/tll_banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><i>Previously: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2024/03/maiden-mother-crone.html">Maiden, Mother, Crone</a></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"You can't wear a yet <i>another </i>black dress, not tonight of all nights; I forbid it," Mother Dorgan proclaimed, walking into Alinor's bedchamber uninvited. Lady Bayford was only in her undergarments, standing before her mirror with her long hair down.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Leave," Bess shooed away the lady's maid. "I will tend our Lady Alinor."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Did you wash your hands?" Alinor demanded, still gazing upon her reflection. "I refused to attend the betrothal party smelling of meat."</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"With juniper and lavender soap, just as you like," Bess assured her. She looked around herself. The stone floors were bare, save for a few old rugs. The drapes on the windows and around her bed were bland, faded velvet, and the walls were void of tapestries or paintings. "You've really got to redecorate this place, Alinor. The main hall I can almost understand, but this is your bedchamber."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Exactly, <i>my </i>bedchamber," Alinor insisted.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Are you wearing this?" Bess lifted a gown from the chair next to the vanity. It was black, velvet, and admittedly fine; it had an empire waist and was intricately embroidered with blue and silver thread.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Just arrived this morning, specially ordered for tonight," Alinor nodded. "I think I shall wear my hair up. Summon Wilona."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Wear it down," Bess cajoled. "You're a beautiful woman, Alinor. And you know...the King of Liria is a widower. If his son were to report back--"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Alinor shot her a look. "I <i>don't </i>want to be a queen."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Bess sighed loudly, rolling her eyes.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I never want to marry again, Bess; you know that," Alinor reminded her, returning to her reflection. "Husbands lie. They lie their daughters, lie to your face, lie to themselves. At in end, when you've been a dutiful wife and mother, if you're lucky, you'll get a knife in the gut. If you've been a dutiful daughter, you get fed to a dragon."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Bess's eyes followed Alinor's hand as it absently moved to her lower left side. "Does it still hurt?" she quietly asked, knowing the wound had fully healed almost a year ago.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Always," Alinor replied distantly, eyes on her own face in the mirror. "I close my eyes, I see the guards tear Floria from my arms. I move to protect her and the guard draws his dagger. I feel the blade go in, I clutch my side...I wait for death."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"But you lived," Bess reminded her. "You got a second chance, Alinor."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"You know why Elodie can't sleep, right?" Alinor suddenly asked her. "It's because every time she closes <i>her </i>eyes, she's jolted by the smell of her own flesh burning."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The blood drained from Mother Dorgan's face. Silence hung between them as she struggled to breathe. Once she could, she gathered herself and said softly, "Hair up then. I'll summon Wilona." She turned to go, but Alinor had one more question.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"What did the Ilesti call you?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Bess turned back to her. "What?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Your accent...it's Ilesti, isn't it?" Alinor asked, finally turning away from her mirror. "I knew it was something Southern, exotic, but I had no idea until you told us the ancient history of Aurea. You first learned our tongue from the Ilesti, didn't you? What did they call you, back in those days?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Bess was visibly shaken, but forced herself to respond. "<i>Il'kur'anesh</i>."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As if in a dream, Alinor silently mouthed the foreign syllables before asking, "Meaning?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Bess was grim as she turned to leave. "Fire-From-Sky."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfJ2aGPqinHVlVPfjhImXdZGIxU5EjAf18c9ofISQsVBnm3G2wIg_vODT4QvDnf1iCQTmthLZ6p3d_G3VhmZ-9_GA_0V7C5yVDLk4Z91ySqhxL558VvGFcNxMWSDUx_h5oFUQeN-BNsQYzqIM1lYBktc-ryNQt2UL74K5whQXJjLUOK8FIJo8BCIEe0C6E/s1279/Screenshot%202024-03-13%20120948.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="727" data-original-width="1279" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfJ2aGPqinHVlVPfjhImXdZGIxU5EjAf18c9ofISQsVBnm3G2wIg_vODT4QvDnf1iCQTmthLZ6p3d_G3VhmZ-9_GA_0V7C5yVDLk4Z91ySqhxL558VvGFcNxMWSDUx_h5oFUQeN-BNsQYzqIM1lYBktc-ryNQt2UL74K5whQXJjLUOK8FIJo8BCIEe0C6E/w523-h299/Screenshot%202024-03-13%20120948.png" width="523" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Za98A1"><i>Medieval Tailor Shop</i></a></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel had no formal clothing on hand, so he stopped by a tailor's shop. Like everything other building in Bayford, it part of the massive stone structure, so there were no windows large enough to show off wares.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">However, Gabriel was assured once he walked it, for the shop was filled with silks, satins, and velvets in every color. There was an apprentice brushing furs and another embroidering a bodice on a mannequin.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The proprietor greeted Gabriel himself; he was a portly, flamboyant man with a bald head and a wildly colorful outfit.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"May I help you, sir?" he greeted, looking Gabriel up and down.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Yes," Gabriel nodded. "I need clothes for this evening's festivities."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The tailor's eyes widened slightly. "The Viscountess's celebration?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"That's right."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"And you are...?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Lord Gabriel Walling of Liria."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Lord," the tailor chuckled slightly. "I am Oswald of Bayford. Welcome to my shop, 'Lord' Walling. It's too late to make any custom items, but anything you see here is at your disposal...for a price."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Of course."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Had Gabriel arrived before speaking with Elodie, he would've been offended. But now he merely empathized, wondering how many false lords had maybe swindled this and other merchants in Bayford.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Just a suggestion," Oswald shrugged, "you'd look quite handsome in blue."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"All right," Gabriel nodded. "Something warm though; I'm not used to your northern weather."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Oswald pulled some items while Gabriel moved to the near mirror, removing his cloak and tunic. When Oswald returned, he eyed Gabriel more carefully.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Jasmine oil?" he asked.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Grows all over Liria," Gabriel nodded. "We use it in everything."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVt37Srkbzs0vghI1lL-cO6_QVrQNxzUgEFLCyffthCtwMrLnBWbKoDLBN6k6OBPbnoW-YRYDJZP7GuHy2Fn5Te20liah456H9rfUU6hfFFlbv0Q_cya_CLa2ynYhdeLKRHjaj-gfPoKQwkmrk0aebkABzOrG6-xyrI_Mk-8Ol9iBfKbGyHoIi-j2dFVbz/s513/Screenshot%202024-03-13%20123914.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="513" data-original-width="441" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVt37Srkbzs0vghI1lL-cO6_QVrQNxzUgEFLCyffthCtwMrLnBWbKoDLBN6k6OBPbnoW-YRYDJZP7GuHy2Fn5Te20liah456H9rfUU6hfFFlbv0Q_cya_CLa2ynYhdeLKRHjaj-gfPoKQwkmrk0aebkABzOrG6-xyrI_Mk-8Ol9iBfKbGyHoIi-j2dFVbz/w344-h400/Screenshot%202024-03-13%20123914.png" width="344" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.medievalcollectibles.com/product/royal-court-doublet/?attribute_pa_size=large&matchtype=&keyword=&gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQjwncWvBhD_ARIsAEb2HW-N7kM4FV10I-vRZ9JWjkXa6aW01ZuRb52C45fu2ZhwMmSD4rmyAzUaAqaYEALw_wcB"><i>Doublet</i></a></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;">"Hm," Oswald nodded, first handing him a doublet of very dark blue, embroidered in green, gold and red. It was too garish for Gabriel's taste. The second was slightly lighter, but the dye had too much green in it, causing it to seem rather loud. The third was an otherworldly shade of blue, much like the robes of the Blue Priestesses. It was embroidered in silver and contrasted beautifully with Gabriel's skin.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Perfection," Oswald gasped. He helped Gabriel into the new clothes, even adding a spritz of jasmine perfume. And he sang as he worked, "<i>Four little lords climbing a tree/One falls down and now there are three...</i>"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I thought only children sang that song," Gabriel remarked.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Everybody sings that song," Gabriel snorted. "And we'll stop singing when the Viscountess finally weds one of her little 'lords'. Of course, for that to actually happen, they'll have to stop abandoning her or dying in ludicrous accidents."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">When he was dressed and refreshed, Gabriel paid in full, surprising the tailor.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"My," Oswald's eyes widened at the sight of gleaming gold coins, "you <i>are </i>a real lord."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"So people keep saying," Gabriel nodded slowly, warily.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"You know," Oswald's eyebrow rose, "if things fall through with the latest lord, you could wed the Viscountess. Maybe even restore some dignity to her house."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel tensed slightly. "No, sir...I don't believe so."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Not you too."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Bess entered Elodie's bedchamber to find the bride-to-be slipping into a black velvet gown and lacing it herself. She only wore simple dresses these days, gowns that didn't require assistance from maids. The Viscountess despised letting others dress her, unless they were her family, or Mother Dorgan.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I love black, Mother Dorgan," Elodie sighed, turning and twisting in front of her mirror. "I like the way it looks, I like the way people look at me when I first walk into a room. "</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Speaking of rooms...," Bess turned round, taking in the drapes, the rugs, and tapestries.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I'm not redecorating," Elodie cast a look over her shoulder. "Not again. I have changed the color scheme in this room at least seven times since we got back from Aurea, and you haven't liked any of them."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"The violet is all well and good," Bess conceded, "but I wouldn't mind if you chose a <i>lighter </i>shade, my dear."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I don't like lighter shades," Elodie replied dully. "Not anymore. Is Wilona done with Mother's hair? I think I want to braid mine back with some ribbons."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"A good choice, dear," Bess smiled warmly, coming over. "I can do that for you." She patted Elodie's chair by the vanity.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The Viscountess raised an eyebrow. "Since when?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Since I've been practicing on my little birds," Bess laughed. "I do spend time with them, you know, contrary to popular belief."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Elodie obliged her, taking a seat and dabbing a cream under her eyes to lighten the circles. "Has Thorley arrived yet? I told Floria to sober him up this afternoon. He's only allowed water tonight."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Bess's eyes clouded over. "Perhaps, it would be better for Thorley if he--"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"He can drink himself into a coma <i>after </i>the party, Bess," Elodie insisted. "If I must endure this humiliation with my wits intact, so must he."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">They spent a few more moments in silence, after which Mother Dorgan delicately broached, "You're not sleeping."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I don't want to talk about it."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Why not?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Because there's nothing to say, Bess!" Elodie exclaimed, exasperated. "You heard what my mother said about the winter constellation. We are running out of time, and we haven't even completed the Ritual of the Ten Stars."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"If we fail," Bess said quietly, "then we fail. This family has suffered enough; you need to heal Elodie. You can't spend the rest of your life healing others when you yourself are hurting."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I can't heal," Elodie's shoulders fell. "There's no 'healing' for me or any of us, <i>Mother</i>." After a beat she added, "Nobody heals from Aurea."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Next: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2024/03/thorley.html">Thorley</a></i></div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-15079640111791138542024-03-17T03:53:00.002-05:002024-03-17T03:54:33.800-05:00Maiden, Mother, Crone<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXkj9APV88NyRL9ihYk25eQ-PutNNEZVJwip7Bw_8gZibIjZXeFsPMsWlHkEOS_8y1ZU6k6KhCZHBA4KXqfMiblv6DrBeyQS6joWEKy-iDimOuWYULlE3oXuBUZ4gzMqtNiC22ppuBUFmqJ75cdBLVkPLbjfxpnRMDhJ6xLRNyLc-SDfl1VMdhnny09UZQ/s1110/tll_banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="1110" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXkj9APV88NyRL9ihYk25eQ-PutNNEZVJwip7Bw_8gZibIjZXeFsPMsWlHkEOS_8y1ZU6k6KhCZHBA4KXqfMiblv6DrBeyQS6joWEKy-iDimOuWYULlE3oXuBUZ4gzMqtNiC22ppuBUFmqJ75cdBLVkPLbjfxpnRMDhJ6xLRNyLc-SDfl1VMdhnny09UZQ/w640-h262/tll_banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><i>Previously: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2024/03/the-little-girls-of-bayford.html">The Little Girls of Bayford</a></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">If Elodie Bayford was a cold fish, her mother was a lady of stone.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Lady Alinor Bayford was dressed in a long black gown and adorned with wooden jewelry painted black. Gabriel had heard a few things about the Widow Bayford, that she was a woman of great age and beauty, and despite having lost her husband almost a year ago, she refused to remarry.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Standing in her main hall by the fire, she was reading a letter. After making a small of noise distaste, she tossed it into the fire.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Morning, Mother," Elodie greeted. Mother and daughter looked nothing alike, on account of being stepfamily. "Sleep well?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Of course, not," came the weary reply. "You?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Never. Another proposal, I take it?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Worse," another older woman cackled, as she devoured a large steaming platter of sausage and bacon. She was clad in blue, like the priestesses, but her robes were finer, and she wore furs, her neck and fingers adorned in gold and gems.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"You know, I sorely miss the days when no one knew who we were," Alinor sighed deeply, rubbing temples. Like her daughter, she had the look of one who didn't sleep. She shot the other older woman a look. "But then Mother Dorgan had to go and open up that damned temple."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel's eyes widened. <i>So...this is the famed temple mother</i>.</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Elodie turned to him to explain. "With the temple, as you've seen, came lots of people from far and wide."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"And they brought their treasures," Mother Dorgan cheerfully added, wielding her knife and fork with glee.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"The Bayford family has held these lands through war and famine for centuries, without so much as a thank you from the crown," Alinor grumbled. "Word of our fortunes spread, and now we're suddenly drowning in invitations to court." She paused, looking over their guest. "And who might this be?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Lord Gabriel Walling, nephew to the King of Liria," Elodie introduced.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"My lady," Gabriel bowed.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"You are welcome, Lord Walling," Alinor nodded. "Lirian jasmine is quite popular here in Bayford...if recently expensive."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"That would be due to the war," he replied.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Alinor gave a brisk nod. "So we've heard."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"My, you're a gallant one, aren't you?" Mother Dorgan grinned. "A real, actual lord for a change."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel blinked, confused. "For a change?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"With the temple came lots of people," Elodie echoed, gesturing for him to sit. She sat next to him and poured him a cup of wine. "Charlatans. Frauds. You see, when Queen Isabelle of Aurea made a fool of my family, others thought they could follow suit. They came with stolen clothes and crests, falsified papers of nobility and the like."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I'll never forget the first," Mother Dorgan shook her head. "Osbert, was it? Claimed to be a baron, turned out to be a common hunter, and an incompetent one at that. Couldn't even bring down a simple boar. The townsfolk love singing about that one."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"But you don't hunt boars with arrows, " Gabriel raised an eyebrow.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"What's that?" Alinor asked exchanging looks with the other women.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"The song says, 'Ten little lords, all in a line,'" Gabriel recited. "'One stray <i>arrow</i>, down to nine'--you don't hunt a boar with arrows. You wield spears."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"A lesson Osbert and his hunting party learned <i>after </i>the fact," Elodie scoffed.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Are there many boars here?" Gabriel asked. "Typically they dwell in forests, yet I didn't see much forest on the way here."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Alas," Alinor sighed, "our forests are much further away."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Mm, let's not forget Edmund the Pious," Mother Dorgan cackled, moving on. "Claimed to be a man of the gods and fasted himself into an early grave to prove it."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"And Osgar, and Hildred, and Alfred," the Dowager Viscountess sighed loudly. "Yes, my dear Bess...we remember them all."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel was stunned. "How...how many--"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Eight, so far," Elodie answered, her voice leaden. "Thorley is my ninth betrothed since I returned home, and I can already tell he won't be the charm. He drinks like a common sailor, which I suspect he is."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel's brow furrowed. "Then why follow through?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"To save face," Alinor said, taking a seat. Gabriel noticed no one was sitting next to the temple mother, but chose to ignore it. "The most heinous of courtly graces, but the betrothal has been announced and now we must all forebear. Besides, it would be nice not add another verse to that hideous little song."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Can we offer you something?" Mother Dorgan suddenly asked him. "These ladies bemoan their exalted station, while I prefer to simply enjoy the perks. For with the right amount of money, you can hire the very best of cooks."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I've had breakfast, madam, thank you," Gabriel nodded politely, smiling.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"It wouldn't kill you to enjoy a second breakfast," the old woman shrugged.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"No more than it would kill <i>you </i>to eat an apple for a change," Alinor snapped.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"And why would I do that?" Mother Dorgan blinked. "Sausage, cured to perfection. Bacon, cured then fried to crispy yet chewy perfection. And that steak from last night...marinated and herb-crusted to perfection." She turned to Gabriel. "My temple ladies choose such an austere living, which I've never enforced. They take vows of poverty and chastity, which serve no one and only rob them of time."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel was astounded. "You don't think temple maidens should remain chaste, Mother?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"For what?" the old woman exclaimed. "It's like I always tell my little birds--"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"They <i>hate </i>when you call them that," Elodie pointedly reminded her.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"But they're all so flighty!" Bess scowled. "And did you know most of them are bastards?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Why is why they don't want to repeat their parents' mistakes, Mother," Elodie said, slightly impatient. "Your lack of religious decorum, much like your absence, has not gone unnoticed. Some members of the order suspect you have a lover hidden away."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"If only," Bess groaned. "You know, I can understand when widows and crones join the order. They've had husbands, lovers, borne children--they've lived life. But the little birds? I don't understand them. They still have time to become anything, anything they want, and they choose to take the veil instead. I walk into my temple, Lord Walling, full of young women--some even blessed with beauty--and it's all bastards to the left of me, spinsters to the right."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel laughed aloud and Mother Dorgan cackled along, while the Bayfords merely groaned.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I've never met a temple mother like Dorgan," Gabriel beamed later, when he and Elodie walked back to the temple. "She's quite a character."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Yes," Elodie murmured absently. "Quite."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I can't imagine she was ever a Red Priestess," Gabriel frowned slightly. "Though...she probably just did it for the food."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Elodie laughed shortly, with a snort, but said nothing else. It was the closest thing to a genuine smile since they'd met.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It was now afternoon in Bayford. The sun was high, the air still chilly, and the streets still full of people.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I've never been in a city made of stone," Gabriel confessed, noting the beauty in the dreary architecture. "Lirian cities tend to be open, flat."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Your capital lies next to the great western ocean, does it not?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Mm," Gabriel nodded fondly. "My uncle's castle sits on a cliff. I miss watching the sun rise over the waves."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"How long have you been gone from home?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Seven months, three weeks, four days and this day."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"My," Elodie's eyes widened. "Well, your cousin should be well enough for travel in by the end of this week."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Why the delay, if his wounds are healing so quickly?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The viscountess's eyes darkened. "Healing the body is the first step," she said somberly. "Healing the mind takes longer. It could be years before your prince is able to get over an experience like this."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"<i>Eight little lords, praying to heaven</i></div><div><i>Hungry one faints and down to seven</i></div><div><i>Seven little lords, carrying picks</i></div><div><i>One cave-in and we’re down to six....</i>"</div><div><br /></div><div>Gabriel watched the little girls skip down the street with a raised eyebrow. "Picks?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Pickaxes," Elodie explained. "Little Lord Brandyn. Claimed he owned a large mine; tried to trick us with a chest of fool's gold."</div><div><br /></div><div>"What happened?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Well, he was a miner; that part was true," Elodie sighed. "Brandyn thought if he went digging through our northern caves, he might actually stumble across some valuable ore. He was wrong."</div><div><br /></div><div>"How did you break the news to him, that you weren't going to marry?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"I didn't have to," Elodie shrugged. "He died in a cave-in. The recklessness of young men ought to be studied, Lord Walling. It's why I keep Thorley locked up at the temple. He might be a drunk, but at least that's the worst of it."</div><div><br /></div><div>"You don't have to marry him, you know," Gabriel said gently. "After everything, I think your people will understand."</div><div><br /></div><div>"After everything, I still need heirs," Elodie shrugged again. "My sister Floria has sworn off men and marriage in favor of temple life, and I will not let the Bayford line end with me."</div><div><br /></div><div>"I respect that," Gabriel nodded, conceding. This was none of his business, and he had more pressing matters at hand.</div><div><br /></div><div>"We're celebrating my new betrothal tonight, by the way. You are invited to the celebration," Elodie told him, then added with a snicker, "You can meet Thorley."</div><div><br /></div><div>"At the temple?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"At my home," she replied. "Festivities begin when the sun goes down."</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Next: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2024/03/shades-of-darkness.html">Shades of Darkness</a></i></div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-91799177025302481072024-03-17T03:52:00.002-05:002024-03-17T03:53:41.197-05:00The Little Girls of Bayford<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6StUSJKnsF2ZnoMumuf_lAwVXstMhgu_1SDvc3sX_L8CP9ezvunaDGwE9USU-vNwBm3ZbKto7BPs8bfUd4C0zc_AgJukcwVdDSppfnxwjkOEuC_4mbOQVKta3ApfA70B_Aj7SKiBC6EGAIGthlDoEy5atFyZw8AGouTZGmIzo-5czJN6_WFh-CmPaMMP_/s1110/tll_banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="1110" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6StUSJKnsF2ZnoMumuf_lAwVXstMhgu_1SDvc3sX_L8CP9ezvunaDGwE9USU-vNwBm3ZbKto7BPs8bfUd4C0zc_AgJukcwVdDSppfnxwjkOEuC_4mbOQVKta3ApfA70B_Aj7SKiBC6EGAIGthlDoEy5atFyZw8AGouTZGmIzo-5czJN6_WFh-CmPaMMP_/w640-h262/tll_banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><i>Previously: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2024/03/prologue-thing-you-hate.html">The Thing You Hate</a></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">The gate guards instantly recognized the Lirian heraldry, and let the royal entourage through without incident. The prince's gilded carriage was preceded and followed by over two dozen knights on horseback, accompanied by several heralds.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Even though it was night and the streets were mostly empty, their grand entrance was noticed right away. Windows opened and candles were lit as the procession made way towards the temple.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Elodie Bayford was awake. She was always awake these days; sleep didn't come easily to her anymore. She and the temple maidens watched in surprised awe as several knights in full armor brought in a man on a makeshift stretcher. He was tall, dark-skinned, covered in sweat and haphazard bandages.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"And who might this be?" she raised an eyebrow.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"His Highness, Prince Cyprian of Liria," the patient's young companion announced. He was a regal fellow, if not so tall as the knights. Elodie figured he was probably a squire.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"A royal patient," she mused. "It's been a while since we had one of those. Avice," she said to a young woman, "boil some water and tell Edith to bring fresh cloth. Those wounds will need cleaning before we can begin." She turned back to the prince's companion. "And you are, Sir...?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Walling," he replied. "Lord Gabriel Walling. The prince is my cousin."</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Elodie's eyebrows went up. She gave the young man a onceover, noting his embroidered tunic and flowing velvet cloak. He was clean-cut, well-groomed, and of proper bearing. And his skin was as dark and rich as his cousin's.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I see," she murmured. "Well, my lord, I am Elodie Bayford, Viscountess of Bayford. If you have a page or steward among you, I suggest you send them to arrange lodgings at the inn just down the street. You'll be in town for quite some time."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The young man's eyes were panicked, even as his voice remained steady. "You can heal him, can you not?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"We can," Elodie assured him, "but even after he is healed, it'll be days before he's back to normal. You should send word to Liria. His father will want to know."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I have sent messengers," Gabriel nodded slowly, eyes clouded with worry. They cleared suddenly as he met her gaze, eyes widening in recognition. "You say you are...Elodie?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Elodie's body stiffened, even as she kept her practiced smile in place. She hated this part.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I am," she nodded, keeping her voice light.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"But then...," he blinked, as though wrestling with a perturbing though, "that would make you the last princess of Aurea."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Elodie's blood ran cold. <i>This is a new one</i>. "Please don't call me that," she said tightly. "My formal title is Lady Elodie, Viscountess of Bayford. You may call me Elodie."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Yes, yes," he nodded hastily, "but your legal status is Princess of Aurea."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Her patience was wearing thin. "There is no more Aurea, so what does it matter?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Because that's where we just came from," Gabriel replied. "We are at war."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"<i>What</i>?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Both Lady Bayford and Mother Dorgan gawked at Elodie, shocked into immobility. A serving girl came round to take her cloak, but Elodie shooed her away. Alinor dismissed the girl from the room.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I can't stay," Elodie said lowly. "The Prince of Liria lies wounded and feverish at the temple; the journey did him no favors. His cousin says their king tried to annex Aurea shortly after we left. But by the time he arrived, the Ilesti were already there."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Mother Dorgan was now beyond shocked. "The Ilesti have returned to Aurea?" In an unprecedented event, she actually pushed her plate away. "Fuck the gods."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Who are the Ilesti?" Alinor asked.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"A Southern tribe who tried to conquer Aurea first, to take it from the dragons many centuries ago," Bess told them grimly. "It was they who began the practice of killing dragons, unborn and newly born. They never fully succeeded, of course, and they lost many people, but their efforts ultimately paved the way for Isabelle's ancestors."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Why does anyone even want that accursed land?" Elodie demanded. "Why can't they just leave it be?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Because it is fertile as it is rich in gold," Bess scowled.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"And because royals never seemed to learn," Alinor spat. "How long before we can get the Lirians out of Bayford?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"A few days, but Lord Walling called me the last princess of Aurea," Elodie said, looking slightly nauseated. "I fear I might be dragged into this madness."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Nonsense!" Alinor snapped. Her voice lowered to a desperate rasp. "Winter is coming to Bayford; the ten stars of the constellation are already visible in the night sky. We all know what that means. So whatever business these Lirians think they might have with you will have to wait until after the thaw. Elodie, heal that man, say as little as possible, and then send them back to their stupid little war."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Morning came, and with it, the changing of the guard.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gabriel watched from his bedroom window at the inn as ten guards departed to the inn to relieve the ones who watched the prince as he slept. Wrapped in woolen blankets, he was suddenly grateful for the cozy warmth of the room; after the sunny climes of Aurea, he was in no mood to deal with northern chill.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He was about to turn away from his window when he heard the sound of children playing in the streets. It caught him off guard; the Aurean Campaign had been dragging for months now and he couldn't recall the last time he'd seen or heard small children. And yet there they were, little girls, skipping down the street, singing a rhyme he'd never heard before.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"<i>Ten little lords, all in a line</i></div><div><i>One stray arrow, down to nine</i></div><div><i>Nine little lords, eating black dates</i></div><div><i>One chokes and we are down to eight....</i>"</div><div><br /></div><div>Gabriel chuckled. Having sung similar rhymes in his own childhood, it was nice to know the little ones were as morbid as ever.</div><div><br /></div><div>He called for a bath to finally, blessedly wash away the road. After bathing, he enjoyed a breakfast of freshly baked bread with some sort of preserve made from cherries, juicy salted ham cooked in mushrooms, and to his surprise, jasmine tea from Liria.</div><div><br /></div><div>Washed, fed, and garbed in some clean clothes, he headed back up the street to the temple. It was a sunny day in Bayford, if still chilly, and the streets thronged with people. Many were travelers who came for the temple, but there were also merchants, tradesman, and royal messengers swaddled in silk.</div><div><br /></div><div>The temple was in the center of town, with large windows and great double doors. The first floor was packed with simple cots, each one holding a patient. Women, young and old, milled about the large room, lighting candles, carrying basins or baskets of rags. They all were clad in the most ethereal shade of light blue he'd ever seen. Except for Elodie; the young viscountess was back at the temple, clad all in a black velvet gown, tending a young girl covered in burns.</div><div><br /></div><div>Forgetting his cousin for a moment, Gabriel was drawn instead to the viscountess, curious about her work. The patient was on a small cot while Elodie sat next to her, dipping into a large pewter basin of glowing blue worms, and placing them one by one on the girl's scorched flesh.</div><div><br /></div><div>Fascinated, Gabriel watched as the worms diligently worked, not healing instantly but quickly enough to make him gasp.</div><div><br /></div><div>"By the gods."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Indeed," Elodie nodded without looking up. "These worms are native to the caves of Aurea. They can cure any wound."</div><div><br /></div><div>"And...you brought them with you?" Gabriel asked.</div><div><br /></div><div>"I didn't think to," Elodie admitted. "My mind was on other matters at the time. But when Mother Dorgan first arrived in Bayford, she was still a Red Priestess. Since my mother had already passed a law to behead anyone practicing that religion, Mother Dorgan switched red robes for blue, like the worms she'd brought from Aurea. It was she who established this temple." Once the girl was covered in worms, Elodie picked up the basin and rose to her feet, turning to Gabriel.</div><div><br /></div><div>"So," she mused, looking him over again, "you're a real lord."</div><div><br /></div><div>He blinked, surprised by her statement. "Since birth, last I checked."</div><div><br /></div><div>"How nice for you," she smiled, though he noticed it didn't reach her eyes. Elodie was inscrutable woman, not at all what he'd expected.</div><div><br /></div><div>"My lady, I dare say you are nothing like what the bards say," he suddenly blurted without thinking.</div><div><br /></div><div>"What do they say?" she asked, clearly amused. "That I'm 'fair of skin, a work of art'?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"'Small in frame, yet brave of heart'," Gabriel blinked, slightly confused.. He'd thought she'd be warm, yet the woman before him was a cold fish. She was quite pale and thin, and there were circles under her eyes, as though she never got enough sleep.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Haven't heard that verse before," she snorted softly.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Why do you wear black if you insist on working at the temple of Blue Priestesses?" he asked, once again talking without thinking.</div><div><br /></div><div>"I'm in mourning," she stated flatly, walking away from the little girl. Gabriel followed closely behind her, trying not to bump into cots or priestesses.</div><div><br /></div><div>"For your father," he nodded. "My condolences."</div><div><br /></div><div>"No that's my mother," she replied. "I mourn my former betrothed, Lord Edric. He caught the sweating sickness and died a few weeks ago. We can cure any wound, but disease is another matter.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Anyway," she shrugged, setting the basin down on a small table near a wall, "I have a new betrothed now, Lord Thorley. You'll find him drinking in his quarters, from sunup to sundown."</div><div><br /></div><div>She turned to him suddenly. "Aren't you going to ask about your prince?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Of course," Gabriel blinked, surprised by her rapid changes. "That's why I'm here, to see Cyprian."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Your cousin is faring well," Elodie assured him, gesturing for him to follow her to a stairwell. They went up the stone stairs to the second floor where patients had private rooms. The hall was filled with stone-faced Lirian knights standing guard outside the prince's room.</div><div><br /></div><div>The stone room was large and mostly empty, save for essential items. His cousin was nestled on a bed furs by the fire, deep asleep. A young priestess lightly dabbed his brow with a fresh cloth. He looked much better than he did the night before.</div><div><br /></div><div>"The prince's fever broke early this morning," Elodie rattled off matter-of-factly, "and almost all his wounds are healed. Some of the arrows pierced so deeply there were still fragments buried in his flesh."</div><div><br /></div><div>"My uncle will pay a king's ransom in gratitude," Gabriel bowed his head in thanks. "As would I if I could." He turned to his sleeping cousin. "Were Cyprian to perish, I'd be next in line." He seemed genuinely horrified by the notion.</div><div><br /></div><div>Elodie looked surprised, almost shocked. "You don't want to be prince?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"I don't want to be <i>king</i>," Gabriel corrected her softly, eyes still on Cyprian. "My uncle made a grave error declaring war, and I don't want to have to clean up the mess."</div><div><br /></div><div>She seemed mildly intrigued. "King for an uncle, eh? You know that makes you a royal visitor. And since this is my family's city, custom dictates you should pay your respects to the head of my family. Come," she gestured to the door. "I'll show you my home."</div><div><br /></div><div>He followed and they walked in silence for some time, accompanied by two Lirian Knights. Halfway towards the inn, he saw more little girls, running about in their plain blue dresses with amaranth blossoms in their hair.</div><div><br /></div><div>"<i>Six little lords take a carriage for a drive</i></div><div><i>Wheel pops off and we’re down to five</i></div><div><i>Five little lords enamored with a whore</i></div><div><i>Brothel burns down and now there’s four....</i>"</div><div><br /></div><div>Gabriel was visibly alarmed. "My gods...are there any happy verses in that song?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Fuck, no," Elodie snorted. "They're singing about me, you know? Each lord is a reference to a former betrothed of mine. I'm something of a joke here, you see. 'The Viscountess Bayford can't keep a man.' They think it's funny that I have such rotten luck with men."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Why?" he chuckled awkwardly. "What's wrong with them?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Well, for starters," Elodie said flatly, "they're all liars."</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Next: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2024/03/maiden-mother-crone.html">Maiden, Mother, Crone</a></i></div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-20319548495090417212024-03-17T03:50:00.007-05:002024-03-17T04:26:45.888-05:00Prologue: The Thing You Hate<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt51_FLg3Bl7tcZOGTefpMAFmgU6b3Iu_axSUby9PmFH26TN3gXSny-_UHvZJnUNSrBYBmmdn9enBTKyFZKa6MzQFlrFdTFArGzAUrc0EgGTIpW4m_2eAWNhNRLce6T7KjxgVTVgR1CId4yFvls2ISq64OlpFfKU3oad8l_TT_HachuTcmLi8L1hqknlNh/s1110/tll_banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="1110" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt51_FLg3Bl7tcZOGTefpMAFmgU6b3Iu_axSUby9PmFH26TN3gXSny-_UHvZJnUNSrBYBmmdn9enBTKyFZKa6MzQFlrFdTFArGzAUrc0EgGTIpW4m_2eAWNhNRLce6T7KjxgVTVgR1CId4yFvls2ISq64OlpFfKU3oad8l_TT_HachuTcmLi8L1hqknlNh/w640-h262/tll_banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><i>Previously: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2024/03/ten-little-lords.html">Dramatis Personae</a></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>What a horrid place</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As the sun slowly died in the west, Lord Gabriel Walling looked out upon the barren wastes of the North. He saw no rivers, nor trees, nor even animals roaming the wild. He briefly wondered if the North always looked like this, or if the people had simply killed and cut down everything of use.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The wind was harsh and brittle as the lands it swept over. It was barely Autumn's End, yet he could feel the cold sinking into his bones. Gabriel leaned out the carriage window and as they rolled towards the great walled city of Bayford. Having stood for centuries, it was likely once a small settlement built out of immediate necessity, because the placing made no sense to him. Instead of standing atop a hill, it lay within a dip. And it wasn't built upon a lake or near a river.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjueEO6SO2A_IvQEimv2YT73ePh14O8E9AOWso6PbLh6wSypSIwb0tOUZWnxrNw6lFQPVxA5gjaFxbdo_w23lKC2EorzhVqWMvxbsZHiVIMjKcRs0Z06aQSyghZvLCB9TEJZDS4FQIfIcU814OMCgI36hAT6lEVu2gaYw_neqMs1qQHyknBHFuoGKXkWMq3/s1297/tll2.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="1297" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjueEO6SO2A_IvQEimv2YT73ePh14O8E9AOWso6PbLh6wSypSIwb0tOUZWnxrNw6lFQPVxA5gjaFxbdo_w23lKC2EorzhVqWMvxbsZHiVIMjKcRs0Z06aQSyghZvLCB9TEJZDS4FQIfIcU814OMCgI36hAT6lEVu2gaYw_neqMs1qQHyknBHFuoGKXkWMq3/w589-h241/tll2.png" width="589" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>City of Bayford, deep in the North Wilds</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Closing the carriage window, he sat back against the seat and said reassuringly, "Not much longer now."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">His older cousin, the towering Crown Prince of Liria, couldn't hear him, of course. His body had been riddled with arrows, and though all his wounds were bandaged, the healing was going poorly and he was trapped in a fever that wouldn't break.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It made no difference. They'd finally made it to Bayford, where the famed Blue Priestess could heal any wound. Cyprian would be healed, and the line of succession would remain intact.</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfJv0XFqQ6DaicMN2c0XlBT_GDO8X34IXhoJx9ui4GeOwUYmt0i6RwHAgo-0j3sOHvQte8x60RE0KgrmS3h4Tj8-CwqlFqg9L4VqxHTh9lVXnevE6miEBtAgM9M0HDlTNE9YY2uKI-I3bjP8jLRGC-nQ9Qo7cu-FVRnVHPdrQ3Ihs4U1Re4cfl0qpJCjdU/s1295/tll6.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="527" data-original-width="1295" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfJv0XFqQ6DaicMN2c0XlBT_GDO8X34IXhoJx9ui4GeOwUYmt0i6RwHAgo-0j3sOHvQte8x60RE0KgrmS3h4Tj8-CwqlFqg9L4VqxHTh9lVXnevE6miEBtAgM9M0HDlTNE9YY2uKI-I3bjP8jLRGC-nQ9Qo7cu-FVRnVHPdrQ3Ihs4U1Re4cfl0qpJCjdU/w576-h234/tll6.png" width="576" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The doors of Bayford Hall</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;">It was nighttime in Bayford. The bells of vesper had long grown silent as the skies turned black, brightened by the ten stars of the Winter Constellation, the only constellation visible this time of year.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In Bayford Hall, supper was served late in the main hall, after the sun. Despite the Bayford family's newfound fortune, little about the hall had changed; it was the same gloomy room with a hearth and long, thin dining table. Lady Alinor, fondly dubbed the Widow Bayford, refused to redecorate. She feared it would inspire yet more visitors to her hall.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And after the fall of Aurea, she couldn't abide visitors. As it was, she all the 'visitor' she could stand.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjtNc_N1nKTGkIwM09zaqpnZBn7Zq9-4mUYVgamUuLFjvldZHh0Ysm2cO1wtg8s372SHU1W6xpJt99wmkRG1zTyIvHTp3rBreBgEoeDqRQ33S6FwUdtfMjxRRPOZ3f1rtBmzyKlMq58vL30NYw-x6Na7ipRC3cyilZRsgVnvi7oXOtO-wn97zREEB9QQzO/s1293/tll7.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="1293" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjtNc_N1nKTGkIwM09zaqpnZBn7Zq9-4mUYVgamUuLFjvldZHh0Ysm2cO1wtg8s372SHU1W6xpJt99wmkRG1zTyIvHTp3rBreBgEoeDqRQ33S6FwUdtfMjxRRPOZ3f1rtBmzyKlMq58vL30NYw-x6Na7ipRC3cyilZRsgVnvi7oXOtO-wn97zREEB9QQzO/w589-h244/tll7.png" width="589" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">"We got more donations today," Mother Dorgan was saying, cutting her meat with gusto. Even as she stuffed a large piece into her mouth, she kept talking. "The usual coin and livestock, but what caught my attention above all was the blue dye, finest I've ever seen. Seems my little birds all be getting new robes at the temple this winter."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Lady Alinor Bayford, on the other hand, was eating nothing. This was usually the case whenever the temple mother came over to dine. Lady Bess Dorgan was an infamously avid eater, digging and cutting into her food with zeal, then loudly chewing and savoring every bit. It robbed Alinor of her appetite. She clutched her silver goblet, occasionally sipping her wine and tasting naught.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"How fares Floria?" she asked in a leaden voice, before turning her dark eyes back to the dying embers of the hearth. Thankfully, her new servants were most attentive. One girl stoked a fire while another refilled her cup.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Same as always," Bess shrugged. The two women were similar, yet nothing alike. Bess spoke with an accent of some Southern tribe, while Alinor sounded like a proper lady of the North. Bess's voice was husky, rusty; her temple maidens mused that in her youth she'd probably inhaled too much incense smoke. They were both full-figured and dark brown, yet despite being older women, they still had jet black hair. "She's warming to me, I think...though her studies keep her well occupied."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"And Elodie? Has she met with any new suitors? I haven't seen her in days."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"The temple keeps her busy, and as for suitors, don't be ridiculous, Alinor," Bess rolled her eyes slightly. "Her betrothed is still alive."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Alinor's face soured even further. "Right. Thorley. I forgot."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Bess gave deep giggle. "He is quite a forgettable one."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Is he still drinking the temple into a draught?" Lady Bayford scowled.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Bess chuckled, holding her goblet for a refill. "You know he is. Flawed as the boy is, he knows his wines." She drank deep of her filled cup, savoring the rich taste. "Such pleasures, such pleasures." Her eyes widened suddenly, remembering. "You got more letters today."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Another Duke proposed to me," Alinor grumbled. "Offered to whisk me away to the capital, of all places."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"And you said no."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I can't abide royals, Bess," Alinor spat. "You know that."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Bess attempted to be soothing. "Not all kingdoms are like Aurea. If they were, there'd be no kingdoms."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"My daughters need me. Bayford needs me."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Your daughters?" Bess scoffed. "Elodie is a woman grown; Floria has sworn off men and marriage. The town is flourishing, despite its dreadful location." Her eyes widened further. "Ah, but the location is the appeal, isn't it? When you gaze out upon the cold and barren plains, you feel safe, don't you?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Alinor refused to answer. Of course, she felt safer here. It was her home. In her youth, she'd wished it was more famous, but now she preferred the days when everyone left Bayford well alone.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Under normal circumstances, I would gladly leave," Alinor finally said. "I would happily marry a Duke and move far away, just as I always dreamed as a child. But Aurea changed everything, Bess. My daughters and I are very different people now."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Bess's head slowly rose and fell. "So I've noticed. You should be careful, my lady. The last thing you want to become is the very thing you hate."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It was Alinor's turn to scoff. "And what of you, Mother? Haven't you become the very thing you hate?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Bess's dark eyes were suddenly unreadable. "I suppose that remains to be seen."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Next: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2024/03/the-little-girls-of-bayford.html">The Little Girls of Bayford</a></i></div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-34228597907731091532024-03-17T03:50:00.004-05:002024-03-17T03:51:43.274-05:00Ten Little Lords<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt51_FLg3Bl7tcZOGTefpMAFmgU6b3Iu_axSUby9PmFH26TN3gXSny-_UHvZJnUNSrBYBmmdn9enBTKyFZKa6MzQFlrFdTFArGzAUrc0EgGTIpW4m_2eAWNhNRLce6T7KjxgVTVgR1CId4yFvls2ISq64OlpFfKU3oad8l_TT_HachuTcmLi8L1hqknlNh/s1110/tll_banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="1110" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt51_FLg3Bl7tcZOGTefpMAFmgU6b3Iu_axSUby9PmFH26TN3gXSny-_UHvZJnUNSrBYBmmdn9enBTKyFZKa6MzQFlrFdTFArGzAUrc0EgGTIpW4m_2eAWNhNRLce6T7KjxgVTVgR1CId4yFvls2ISq64OlpFfKU3oad8l_TT_HachuTcmLi8L1hqknlNh/w640-h262/tll_banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><i>T</i><i style="font-family: arial;">en Little Lords</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> takes place about a year after the events in </span><i style="font-family: arial;">Damsel</i><span style="font-family: arial;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xEkn_n2sed1Gc5HBv_oAHSDT1paEP0YVAfiZNDHxoRPfHRxzA8M3tLI-EtWAebKsStDqQRnOznLleY8jPn05_o40pJiAfCduOI1XtgXMHhKWs86DHQ60k_dO7CQGlarJ0d3E3K7olW1UXnTZ3-nXWcVdxg5jLMBCGR_crKSYAnOBeFiOuC2c7ztuFKyX/s765/lady_bayford.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="765" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xEkn_n2sed1Gc5HBv_oAHSDT1paEP0YVAfiZNDHxoRPfHRxzA8M3tLI-EtWAebKsStDqQRnOznLleY8jPn05_o40pJiAfCduOI1XtgXMHhKWs86DHQ60k_dO7CQGlarJ0d3E3K7olW1UXnTZ3-nXWcVdxg5jLMBCGR_crKSYAnOBeFiOuC2c7ztuFKyX/w457-h234/lady_bayford.jpg" width="457" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Angela Bassett as Lady Alinor Bayford</i></td></tr></tbody></table>Lady Alinor, the Widow Bayford, is now a dowager viscountess of the remote northern town of Bayford.<div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJpKRLohJS8Uwv0YVRjGMup7vfyTfnWsnHnIpabvHu1ZKIVGVxMruB5HlqBs9CMGGMZiuVaORenNYy95ydmN0xASmK0qeazBNdl-m9MbQUze1TOg8Cu-oCytgX2Dq6n1jJI029U-MoSYenL8ZSpVnGc3U6cUux3Upw3s8HbW19tT_7KGv7xoNZBbnV1OxW/s825/mother_dorgan.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="825" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJpKRLohJS8Uwv0YVRjGMup7vfyTfnWsnHnIpabvHu1ZKIVGVxMruB5HlqBs9CMGGMZiuVaORenNYy95ydmN0xASmK0qeazBNdl-m9MbQUze1TOg8Cu-oCytgX2Dq6n1jJI029U-MoSYenL8ZSpVnGc3U6cUux3Upw3s8HbW19tT_7KGv7xoNZBbnV1OxW/w400-h274/mother_dorgan.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Shohreh Aghdashloo as Mother Dorgan</i></td></tr></tbody></table>Lady Bess Dorgan, "Mother Dorgan", is head of the Blue Priestesses in Bayford, a new order.<div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0asNuEnziaPTnJVAZIGbmV45oUDab5M4RMxe5jEIX3e3p5emttyy_gofv-VaSADVTf9JOF7FzNHMoYB4LoEbHNY0pThy4LVkOvUdozJ4O3fJ3TBPtDeSPcHO9i12QvwzkvyetUdq4EhjDFSTmlFUlnnnNS51dwCR9IjVR8sSMnI8JAz7-SIiVQ54ZvERh/s1200/elodie_bayford.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0asNuEnziaPTnJVAZIGbmV45oUDab5M4RMxe5jEIX3e3p5emttyy_gofv-VaSADVTf9JOF7FzNHMoYB4LoEbHNY0pThy4LVkOvUdozJ4O3fJ3TBPtDeSPcHO9i12QvwzkvyetUdq4EhjDFSTmlFUlnnnNS51dwCR9IjVR8sSMnI8JAz7-SIiVQ54ZvERh/w400-h225/elodie_bayford.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Lady Elodie Bayford</i></td></tr></tbody></table>Now Viscountess Bayford, Elodie is famed all over the world for having survived a dragon.<br /><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ3lsticaqc8uX6x8iheCqMAfyW36PVuIjOKgE-xefWo4qivApJGpc-GekA4LPmf6uUMyvIZPXCWjPHqC3XrcjRrRqem42WyDinnFXOZNpvhcuto-AXqxglX3cWqJ_6p_0jMZv3Hqsp23syeoRBJYkDy7g_mM28kgMHaNENCFFuuB9XekS5NoblICXLllD/s1092/lord_gabriel.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="610" data-original-width="1092" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ3lsticaqc8uX6x8iheCqMAfyW36PVuIjOKgE-xefWo4qivApJGpc-GekA4LPmf6uUMyvIZPXCWjPHqC3XrcjRrRqem42WyDinnFXOZNpvhcuto-AXqxglX3cWqJ_6p_0jMZv3Hqsp23syeoRBJYkDy7g_mM28kgMHaNENCFFuuB9XekS5NoblICXLllD/w400-h224/lord_gabriel.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Caleb McLaughlin as Lord Gabriel Walling</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div>When his cousin is wounded in battle, Gabriel brings him to Bayford for healing.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>Special Appearances</i></b></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJWMatHVJNanEXtMy5YN87CmBdF26IZrt5NXYz7vGLC38U3V4TPjt1HQ8Ku8gcN6-FnkBu9KyQW9Xkp6p0pXJCYrEctoKcrNTKAlYyq9OCSWVdABmaEvPguKer4s9XhxdSJlHyyJKgwxkeyoVusM2ZjfEWX-PZNF2MTPs4-dn7TlN0P_u2-MqEcP7-XDi/s846/floria_bayford.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="572" data-original-width="846" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJWMatHVJNanEXtMy5YN87CmBdF26IZrt5NXYz7vGLC38U3V4TPjt1HQ8Ku8gcN6-FnkBu9KyQW9Xkp6p0pXJCYrEctoKcrNTKAlYyq9OCSWVdABmaEvPguKer4s9XhxdSJlHyyJKgwxkeyoVusM2ZjfEWX-PZNF2MTPs4-dn7TlN0P_u2-MqEcP7-XDi/w400-h270/floria_bayford.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Brooke Carter as Floria Bayford</i></td></tr></tbody></table>Elodie's younger sister Floria is an initiate at the Blue Temple.<div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8agFTKF5mPpvF7chPjFmcF3YBmNxzrL-xN3AWmRomJo31jPOGuBMnJWWzdM5g-T6pk3_-cqxr2rNyDWD9HoUqAvQlFBo88ahCivlvrlxxGeuarIibd_Xk-dfqojA8xj0fv8Gj_AwU37aqSQqhhIEUUYZ-uwXSb-9mglhja1LRxKBBgNrZPYXXFHpPzaOT/s433/prince_cyprian.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="222" data-original-width="433" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8agFTKF5mPpvF7chPjFmcF3YBmNxzrL-xN3AWmRomJo31jPOGuBMnJWWzdM5g-T6pk3_-cqxr2rNyDWD9HoUqAvQlFBo88ahCivlvrlxxGeuarIibd_Xk-dfqojA8xj0fv8Gj_AwU37aqSQqhhIEUUYZ-uwXSb-9mglhja1LRxKBBgNrZPYXXFHpPzaOT/w400-h205/prince_cyprian.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Prince Cyprian of Liria</i></td></tr></tbody></table>Cyprian's life hangs in the balance when his cousin brings him to Bayford.<br /><div><br /></div><div><i>Next: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2024/03/prologue-thing-you-hate.html">Prologue</a></i></div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-3068830463360323702024-02-18T00:00:00.001-06:002024-02-18T00:00:21.676-06:00Please Don't Reboot "Buffy". Reboot "Sunnydale" instead.<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjszNuvJEh4wgUZsMCOdaaaxba5T3IsJYKz7_zGj1Qc1uAbUMMcZ7t475-Mx3iS4Po4y4fSDPTAypfnijakvscdo30BKscTkLFeum8zsJmFvhfRyYQa0KIbHe48TCpqpytBCK1jydQXq6F_iM2t9UQsy7Ks1P8g9ERp1J-kmBmnf_yKWm6jG9ZSUPXqPmRh/s735/sunnydale.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="569" data-original-width="735" height="496" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjszNuvJEh4wgUZsMCOdaaaxba5T3IsJYKz7_zGj1Qc1uAbUMMcZ7t475-Mx3iS4Po4y4fSDPTAypfnijakvscdo30BKscTkLFeum8zsJmFvhfRyYQa0KIbHe48TCpqpytBCK1jydQXq6F_iM2t9UQsy7Ks1P8g9ERp1J-kmBmnf_yKWm6jG9ZSUPXqPmRh/w640-h496/sunnydale.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Previously:</i> <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/07/we-need-wolfram-hart-tv-series.html">We Need a <i>Wolfram & Hart</i> TV Series</a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Ever since <a href="https://people.com/dolly-parton-says-buffy-the-vampire-slayer-producers-are-revamping-reboot-8553198">Dolly Parton said</a> producers were still working on the <i>Buffy</i> reboot, something's been bugging me.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I was in Facebook group recently talking about <i>The Vampire Diaries</i>, and instead of the usual rants about what they did wrong, we were actually talking about the (few) things they got right. And I said I loved how they fleshed out the lore of Mystic Falls, which was one thing sorely missing about <a href="https://buffy.fandom.com/wiki/Sunnydale">Sunnydale</a> on <i>Buffy the Vampire Slayer</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">What we know about Sunnydale reads like basic trivia: it sits on a Hellmouth, it's a demon magnet, and there are a handful of people and events we learn about over the course of the series, but nothing ever really feels fleshed out. Even worse, we often learned something specific for an episode that was never referenced before, then never referenced again. I found that particularly annoying.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Now, we're never going to recapture the magic of the original show, certainly not that special magic of the first three seasons. <i>Buffy</i> was the first of its kind in an era now long gone. We're not getting that time period back. So instead of trying to get that back, let's move forward. Step One: reboot the lore of the town and this time, properly flesh it out. The theme of that "one special girl in all the world" has been since done to death. I would keep the Hellmouth element, but instead of the rehashing the <i>very</i> tired Chosen One trope, just (re)introduce us to a town full of demon hunters who once drove the demons out, only for them to return.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And for the love of God, just bring back the original actors. We don't need new (read: younger) people.<i> We just need to do right by the ones we already have.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><a name='more'></a></span><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwIQGZV4PMOO1t_kuWRBujjto4xQByEbV0_4rPL2_h0VUEhyphenhyphenfuaGoN1ZGA_tMkLXXPnQUBtvwkUA2I_0xMCe3VgLBbHTbcMzdNPOfcCraRKNm4iY6hu5jO8zZQQYYt6M_MSlp16yWcZIRFbEe03j-mX3iATEK4kwxkLHduZuEC3aoDwxch3dsQIjppEGis/s831/the_slayers.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="418" data-original-width="831" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwIQGZV4PMOO1t_kuWRBujjto4xQByEbV0_4rPL2_h0VUEhyphenhyphenfuaGoN1ZGA_tMkLXXPnQUBtvwkUA2I_0xMCe3VgLBbHTbcMzdNPOfcCraRKNm4iY6hu5jO8zZQQYYt6M_MSlp16yWcZIRFbEe03j-mX3iATEK4kwxkLHduZuEC3aoDwxch3dsQIjppEGis/w546-h274/the_slayers.png" width="546" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sarah Michelle Gellar, Bianca Lawson, and Eliza Dushku</i></td></tr></tbody></table>Kendra Young (Lawson) and Faith Lehane (Dushku) were horribly robbed on this show. Kendra died after a measly four episodes. The backlash from fans would later keep Faith alive, but her grand return came during less than stellar seasons of both <i>Buffy </i>and <i>Angel</i>. And Buffy's reward for regularly saving the world was...dying and having her heart broken all the time.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">All three women can return as seasoned hunters who've moved on with their lives, had families, and are trying to protect said families from a new evil.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAos9oidixrji1sLs4xSYHdrZqK9orMYlc1m28rrkJl0m8DfA_sI9TiC_Zp3TmIWbIommGo2P9oglCQtrYNDVKdSi6iAtSwHDLrh82coGQg9KQ9oy9399sVMvG_Bmlu8Ua4WAsb1I2WSa0cpYjIhgRIf6yiGTGIJRgsai1rCrF3LfeMRqx9tyoz3ytsaME/s708/the_summerses.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="708" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAos9oidixrji1sLs4xSYHdrZqK9orMYlc1m28rrkJl0m8DfA_sI9TiC_Zp3TmIWbIommGo2P9oglCQtrYNDVKdSi6iAtSwHDLrh82coGQg9KQ9oy9399sVMvG_Bmlu8Ua4WAsb1I2WSa0cpYjIhgRIf6yiGTGIJRgsai1rCrF3LfeMRqx9tyoz3ytsaME/w400-h264/the_summerses.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Christine Sutherland and Michelle Trachtenberg</i></td></tr></tbody></table>I never liked the killing of Joyce Summers (Sutherland) nor the introduction of Dawn (Trachtenberg). Since it's a reboot, we can now reverse one and embrace the other. There's no reason Joyce can't be a doting grandma, nor Dawn the goth auntie who's handy with a crossbow.<div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3oVSKI03T8s3LOA4Fgt1HRRc9fwtL3wxotknq3Rv_hjOeB-c-PTQZnYRjgA-51V8C809fq3VZ4j7s_QHjDrUtXVwmXQw8wNcKToqjMIicGVT3xnoVomigdIDNPvEATaH_HN34eHOIOhxzo3z6KVIGW0sJarw0Taxeov7CjmI95CSWy3TtXFIXl80L_Mlz/s866/the_slayerettes.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="421" data-original-width="866" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3oVSKI03T8s3LOA4Fgt1HRRc9fwtL3wxotknq3Rv_hjOeB-c-PTQZnYRjgA-51V8C809fq3VZ4j7s_QHjDrUtXVwmXQw8wNcKToqjMIicGVT3xnoVomigdIDNPvEATaH_HN34eHOIOhxzo3z6KVIGW0sJarw0Taxeov7CjmI95CSWy3TtXFIXl80L_Mlz/w536-h261/the_slayerettes.png" width="536" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Alyson Hannigan, Nicholas Brendon, and Charisma Carpenter</i></td></tr></tbody></table>Not everybody is going to be a good hunter. They won't have the instincts, the agility, or the bravery. But they can still be helpful in other ways. Research, witchcraft, and making weapons--in Sunnydale, it's all hands on deck during a demon attack and I'm pretty sure that after years of dealing with demons, everyone has found their role.<br /><div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-D5-ZegsbiTOxQYnX78VOQ5rNDkgn6YAO9FSeHtdFILbROcffmM69HfvUsHmvPRd3892bDZKWXmEPVGxZAp8ARxmH-any9BDxlL6XjCiE_DsvzSofT34-pY69-W1Na-CUQsjBbmvfUC6YUBrImi1_e_0zU-FeVpKE9ekCTwltoaUdKwqa50XziMig8rvF/s593/the%20_brits.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="444" data-original-width="593" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-D5-ZegsbiTOxQYnX78VOQ5rNDkgn6YAO9FSeHtdFILbROcffmM69HfvUsHmvPRd3892bDZKWXmEPVGxZAp8ARxmH-any9BDxlL6XjCiE_DsvzSofT34-pY69-W1Na-CUQsjBbmvfUC6YUBrImi1_e_0zU-FeVpKE9ekCTwltoaUdKwqa50XziMig8rvF/w400-h300/the%20_brits.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Anthony Steward Head and James Marsters</i></td></tr></tbody></table>Since we were robbed of the <i><a href="https://buffy.fandom.com/wiki/Ripper">Ripper</a></i> series (and I just really, <i>really </i>miss these guys), I'd love to seem them rebooted as these hardened veteran hunter brothers from England. In the pilot pilot episode, they could track an old enemy to Sunnydale and once they arrive, they realize they've found their tribe.<div><br /></div><div>Only...they both have really dark pasts and sarcastic personalities, so it takes some time getting acclimated to the land of sunshine and nonfat lattes.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpw9Eh_mue6r1mbCudC7lP_hDgxQtifhK9LgJYCDVaLCqCZ0kFndopCWukGhpKp3_rB6_MQchMjnkS252Si4h7LKWrP8_VRi3amMXeF2GsxEfbwZN_1sOVwyZsbupPL6L32c6ib57MnNeS2yGL5HyEPD7XD8nyN8LrzvWfwyBfmb6IRVzFffC2LngAd72/s914/the_spouses.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="914" height="154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpw9Eh_mue6r1mbCudC7lP_hDgxQtifhK9LgJYCDVaLCqCZ0kFndopCWukGhpKp3_rB6_MQchMjnkS252Si4h7LKWrP8_VRi3amMXeF2GsxEfbwZN_1sOVwyZsbupPL6L32c6ib57MnNeS2yGL5HyEPD7XD8nyN8LrzvWfwyBfmb6IRVzFffC2LngAd72/w640-h154/the_spouses.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Eric Balfour, Emma Caulfield, Amber Benson, and DB Woodside</i></td></tr></tbody></table>I dub this group "The Spouses". I'd like to see Faith in particular married to Robin (Woodside) and just happy for a change. Jesse (Balfour) could be married to either Kendra or Cordelia; I just need to see some happiness for either of them. I'd also like Anya (Caulfield) to retain her former demon status. I need Tara (Benson) to be a stronger witch this time. I also think Robin could still be the Principal of Sunnydale High while <a href="https://buffy.fandom.com/wiki/Snyder">Snyder</a> could just be Xander's really annoying boss.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9XESbIfyToDu_-BdEM51UIsZ6YS5mDWlzrtpj6pRpEGvo_C9cF4Z1swgx-DCkv52Xn2NS6AhEYBOooM1io-Md7FgL_2WenQK7ZptBK49OAP8k2cUnuDvZO-01QnQFFH25v03r7NnrXEdnpa9xUAWeOhSYz7ImCOw4cQRCM7aCIn8rjKB2KjKG4rGntZB7/s792/the_baddies.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="349" data-original-width="792" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9XESbIfyToDu_-BdEM51UIsZ6YS5mDWlzrtpj6pRpEGvo_C9cF4Z1swgx-DCkv52Xn2NS6AhEYBOooM1io-Md7FgL_2WenQK7ZptBK49OAP8k2cUnuDvZO-01QnQFFH25v03r7NnrXEdnpa9xUAWeOhSYz7ImCOw4cQRCM7aCIn8rjKB2KjKG4rGntZB7/w461-h203/the_baddies.png" width="461" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Elizabeth Anne Allen, Harry Groener, and Clare Kramer</i></td></tr></tbody></table>These could be the "gray area" characters. Amy (Allen) could be a witch friend of Willow's who helps battle demons, but also uses magic for personal gain like beauty or in her dating life (I can see a whole discussion about that). Wilkins (Groener), could be Faith's loving father but also Sunnydale's shady mayor who's not above bargaining with demons. And Glory (Kramer) could still be a fallen god from another dimension, but now trapped in mortal form. Taking on the Watcher role, she's extremely knowledgeable about demons, and regularly helps the hunters, but she's also secretly trying to find her way back home through the Hellmouth.<div><br /></div><div>And in addition to bringing back the actors, bring back the original writers--Noxon, Espenson, Petrie, Fury, Greenwalt--all of them (except the obvious). This was the first show where I actually memorized the names of the writers because they were <i>that </i>good. They deserve their flowers.</div><div><br /></div><div>And bring back the original soundtrack. The <i>Buffy </i>soundtrack is full of cult classics, and I wouldn't mind seeing some of the original bands return to the Bronze. They deserve their flowers too. Because if there's one thing I learned from <i>Star Trek: Picard</i>, it's that as long as the OGs are still alive, there's no need to reinvent the wheel.</div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-63636105087335760002024-01-11T00:12:00.013-06:002024-01-11T01:04:31.221-06:00How I Think Carmy/Claire Should've Been Handled<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6277j40ST3LZwLe7-AfmF-d1x20v_h1V9gnJpDwfXM-Iu_lmlDdNBh8_i_v5NbteTi7hxYWz7mS8QrI10SPEoDa6wGewtx5_lNFr1SPij0ZmyRGqMWT_vNCec-1yctl48rsUG8C5SxwJr7n9iA6PtcMLWRM42uiSth7dy7HJ1DJevXNY3DRf-znFPI3co/s1369/sydcarmy.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="904" data-original-width="1369" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6277j40ST3LZwLe7-AfmF-d1x20v_h1V9gnJpDwfXM-Iu_lmlDdNBh8_i_v5NbteTi7hxYWz7mS8QrI10SPEoDa6wGewtx5_lNFr1SPij0ZmyRGqMWT_vNCec-1yctl48rsUG8C5SxwJr7n9iA6PtcMLWRM42uiSth7dy7HJ1DJevXNY3DRf-znFPI3co/w640-h422/sydcarmy.png" width="640" /></a></div><i>Previously: </i><a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/06/i-just-watched-bear-season-2.html"><i>I Just Watched </i>The Bear<i> Season 2</i></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>***Spoilers Ahead***</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">While I'm glad <i>The Bear</i> won awards again (congratulations, Ayo Edebiri!!!), I'm gonna be honest...Season Two was not better than Season One. There were questionable dips in the writing that could've been easily avoided if Hollywood wasn't so addicted to cheap male fantasy.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In a show where every angle, every color, and every song choice is so carefully chosen, there's no room for cheap male fantasy. This show is better than that; <i>The Bear</i> itself is literally a gourmet offering in television, and the Carmy/Claire "romance" was like day-old McDonald's wedged between elaborate courses. For me, it caused Season Two to drag at times, and what's wild is that with a few tweaks, their interaction could've been so much more meaningful.</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I am <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/01/thebearfx-why-im-rooting-for-sydney.html">a Sydcarmy shipper</a>. That being said, I don't expect them to become canon, and I mainly ship them out of spite because we've already been down this road, without countless other fandoms, so <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/03/this-is-what-i-was-talking-about.html">many, many, many</a> times before.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Let's start with a titan of Gothic television, <i>Buffy the Vampire Slayer</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">No seriously...let's go back to Season Four, when Faith Lehane, the infamous Dark Slayer, wakes up from an eight-month coma and magically swaps bodies with her archnemesis, Buffy Summers. Once Faith becomes Buffy, there's a line she repeats over and over again: "It's wrong." First, she says it sarcastically, while rehearsing to be Buffy. Then she says it flirtatiously to the vampire Spike. By the third time she says it, shit has it the fan, and Faith is staring down several vampires in a church where a bunch of people are about to be massacred. As she tells the vampires she can't let them kill those people "because it's wrong," the audience can see Faith finally understands what it means to be a Slayer.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And while she says she has to do this because she's "Buffy", one could interpret it as, "I have to do because <i>I</i> am (also) a Slayer. Because I am <i>me</i>."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Now back to <i>The Bear</i>. The Claire/Carmy romance disastrously ends with Carmy locked in the refrigerator at his own restaurant opening, when Claire overhears Carmy telling himself he can't be in relationship because he needs to focus on his restaurant. I believe that he could've still arrived at a similar conclusion, just in a slightly different way (but still locked in the fridge because he totally deserves it).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Before I sat down to write this, I was gonna start with the fake phone number scene, but as so many people have pointed out, the problem goes back further to the characterization of Claire herself. Claire should've been written differently altogether, as a smart, confident, accomplished doctor who remembers Carmy (and his family, and all the Faks), but doesn't care to get involved with them all over again. Just as Carmy is not the same kid he was in high school, neither is Claire.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So she wouldn't be trying to get his phone number in the first place. Carmy would be trying to get hers.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And <i>that</i> should've been the theme of their relationship throughout the season: Carmy trying to woo a highly resistant Claire. I know this isn't what men fantasize about, and I really don't care. Male fantasy ruins shows. By writing Claire as this needy, immature woman not only begging for a man's phone number but willing to accept the disrespect of a fake one, the writers detoured from the harsh realism that made <i>The Bear</i> an instant hit. You think men are starting new podcasts every five minutes because women are throwing ourselves at them? Come on. Claire exists to "reassure" the audience that Season Two Carmy is very much a red-blooded, heterosexual man who can easily pull a woman, and not the ambiguous, awkward, potentially asexual icon he was Season One. Because gods forbid.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Writing Claire as unattainable would've kept their "romance" much more in line with the rest of the show. So Carmy would be trying to get her phone number, trying to get her to go out on a date, trying to get her to taste his cooking--it should've been an all-consuming quest which distracted him from the restaurant, to the point that everyone around him voiced concern. And throughout the doomed courtship, Carmy would reiterate over and over again to Claire, "Listen...I'm Carmen Berzatto."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He would try to get her phone number, because he's no longer an awkward kid from a dysfunctional family; he's Carmen Berzatto, a famous chef with tattoos and muscles. He would offer to take her to an exclusive restaurant most people can't get into but <i>he</i> can, because he's Carmen Berzatto and the owner is a fan. Carmy would invite Claire to his restaurant opening, guaranteed to serve her the best meal she's ever had, because he's <i>the</i> Carmen Berzatto.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">While Claire would agree to attend (I mean, hey...free food), she's obviously still not that into him. And once he's locked in his fridge on opening night, Carmy would finally realize just how much effort he's sunk into chasing shadows. It's Season One all over again; he's still trying to rewrite history. He couldn't fix his relationship with his late brother Mikey, so he took over Mikey's failing restaurant in hopes that fixing <i>it</i> would substitute fixing things with Mikey. He's chasing Claire, not because he loves her, or even likes her. <i>He doesn't know her anymore;</i> he just regrets not having asked her out all those years ago. He wants to make up for being a shy geek from an unhinged family.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And here, alone in the fridge, Carmy would suddenly realize that even though he originally came from a dysfunctional family, it's not as dysfunctional <i>now</i>. His brother is dead, he doesn't interact with his mother, he's rebuilding a much healthier relationship with his cousin Richie and his sister Natalie, and to top it all off, he's soon to be an uncle. Even his formerly toxic work family has evolved and pulled together to form a cohesive team. And while everyone deserves credit for their own evolution, Carmy would realize that he was the catalyst, he took the first step, he was essential for the miraculous rebirth of The Beef, because despite all his flaws he really is, in fact, Carmen Berzatto. Before, it was just a line to get a woman. But now, it's a life-changing epiphany.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">All those accolades and articles never meant anything before because Carmy lacked the ability to process the true extent of his own achievements. In this moment, his immigrant heritage would show most of all, because in many immigrant families, achievement is not optional, ergo it's not perceived as laudable.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Now, I still see him and Richie getting into that screaming match because 1) it's Carmy and Richie, and 2) Richie is still desperately stuck in the past. But instead of that leaden speech of not needing fun or enjoyment, instead of humiliating Claire (AGAIN), the season would still end on high note because it would show significant growth in Carmy, because out of all the characters, he evolved the least this season.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm just hoping that now we got the cheap male fantasy out of the way, we won't see similar blunders in Season 3. Personally, I prefer the old days of "Carmy does not fuck" because that same ambiguity which frightened the usual demographic made him irresistably mysterious. If I were a writer on this show, I would've milked that for SEASONS, hear?</div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-84100004736558128882023-12-30T23:19:00.001-06:002023-12-30T23:19:54.304-06:00Crisis<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqbGUvuinNIAg4Ue4D1MxLUad-SzggD39Up1JpjYa_-g1UkcIVWGN1KbxNDFU-nq1ViNfsS5Fx2B7AWjQaBDASs14hmUgurt3eNtfkWAk02vgigXSHRKBH2KZZ_m00_GsF6Fnwk0mgpq9Oy-IfDij5TXDu3AkrfOHJ1J0wVQ9kCAqWvbdJFE6UoLWUVlcX/s909/cold_hearts.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="694" data-original-width="909" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqbGUvuinNIAg4Ue4D1MxLUad-SzggD39Up1JpjYa_-g1UkcIVWGN1KbxNDFU-nq1ViNfsS5Fx2B7AWjQaBDASs14hmUgurt3eNtfkWAk02vgigXSHRKBH2KZZ_m00_GsF6Fnwk0mgpq9Oy-IfDij5TXDu3AkrfOHJ1J0wVQ9kCAqWvbdJFE6UoLWUVlcX/w640-h488/cold_hearts.png" width="640" /></a></div><i>Previously: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/11/death-and-madame.html">Death and the Madame</a></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>What interesting company I've come to keep</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It was one thing for an Elven hedge mage to be invited to the occasional imperial ball at the Winter Palace. It was another to actually attend an audience with the Orlesian Empress herself.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Across from Solas was <a href="https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Celene_Valmont_I">Celene Valmont I</a>, a frosty blond whose face he'd never seen, courtesy of her ever present silver mask. Seated upon her silk-covered chaise, she was a tall, regal woman for whom he had no love; like so many of her ilk, Solas found her to be a weak, lying hypocrite deeply reliant on the talents of others.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In this case, the "others" were Solas and a senior templar knight by the name of Cullen Rutherford. Cullen was a deep, serious man with dark blond hair. He wore heavy armor and a fur-rimmed cloak. He was from Fereldan, which explained both his fashion sense and his hygiene.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In light of recent events, he was also the new liaison to the royal court from the Chantry. And while Solas was technically the senior magical advisor, in this particular scenario, he knew was merely to be seen and not heard.</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Monsieur Rutherford," the Empress was saying in that lispy Orlesian accent, "the reports from Val Royeaux are deeply disturbing. What exactly has happened and why are we the last to hear of it?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Indeed," a new voice entered the conversation, as Vivienne de Fer strolled into the Empress's sitting room.. Solas turned his head, amusement quickly turning to surprise. His stifled laughter froze in his lungs as the elf suddenly found it very difficult to breathe.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">She was even more beautiful than he remembered. The First Enchanter strode into the room without her mask, cheekbones blazing, dark eyes firing sparks. Her shoulders were back, head held high.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Madame de Fer," the Empress greeted cheerily, as though relieved.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Your Majesty," Vivienne briefly curtsied. "What's this I hear about a mage rebellion?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Vivienne, Monsieur Rutherford is here from the Chantry to apprise us of the situation," the Empress explained.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Yes, Madame de Fer," Cullen said, with slight bow. "I was just explaining that--"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Solas," Vivienne blinked, looking every bit as caught off guard as the elf.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Solas gave a prim bow, even as his heart threatened to explode out of his chest. "Madame de Fer," he greeted as calmly as he could muster.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">She seemed to finally remember herself, quickly regaining her indignant composure. "What's happened?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"A mage from the Ostwick Circle has killed her teachers and led her classmates deep into the heart of Fereldan," Cullen finally continued.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vivienne was surprised all over again. "Her?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Her name is Amethyne Flint," Solas proffered. "According to Circle records, she's a very gifted young mage who only just became fully fledged."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"And what was her reason for breaking her own Circle?" Vivienne demanded.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Unknown," Cullen replied. "But the Chantry suspects it has something to do with them as well, seeing as she slaughtered all their clerics in the tower."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Which brings us to the question of how a newly fledged mage bested her elders," Vivienne stated, her tone clipped. "Was it blood magic, or some other abomination?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Also unknown," Solas answered. "The initial theory was that she might have been possessed, but preliminary reports confirm that she is very much herself."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Where exactly in Fereldan are these rebel mages?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Solas and Cullen exchanged a quick look.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vivienne scowled. "Let me guess. That information is also unknown."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"So...you remember me."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Solas escorted Vivienne out, walking with her towards the front gardens of the Winter Palace.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Does that surprise you?" she asked, walking briskly.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"It does," he admitted with a nod. "You know, we <i>have </i>attended some of the same balls since our first meeting."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">She flashed him a look. "I never saw you."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I'm good at being invisible," he shrugged slightly. There were no fancy robes this time; he was dressed like a proper scholar in thick, plain wools and cottons, with no fancy circlet upon his bald head. But he still smelled of wind, river, and dale.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vivienne looked away. She'd forgotten the sound of his voice, the quiet power, the deep thrumming. His words, no matter how simple, were so hypnotic. It was precisely why she had forced every memory of him from her mind.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">After a brief pause, he said, "My condolences...for your loss."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Hm?" she blinked, then remembered. "Of course, you mean Bastien. Thank you." Pause. "I'm just...everything is so jarring. One moment I'm burying the Duke, the next a young mage revolts. What could have possibly caused this?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Solas raised an eyebrow, lowering his voice. "You <i>know </i>why."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">They were outside now, in the cold drizzle, a sea of gray above them, a chilly wind blowing through their clothes.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"What?" Vivienne snapped. "Because she was disgruntled with Circle?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Or scarred by the <a href="https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Harrowing">Harrowing</a>," he muttered. "Say what you want about the necessity of the Circles, Madame de Fer. It doesn't change the fact that something like this was a long time coming. The vaunted Circle of Magi should have seen it."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"You don't slightest bit disturbed. That girl has endangered all of us, Solas, <i>all </i>of us. If we do not neutralize this threat at once and bring the rebels to justice, our heads are next."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Solas could only shrug. "What do you have in mind?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Is that Madame de Fer...with an elf? And a templar?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Josephine Montilyet came to join Vellena Awbry by one of the mammoth windows of the Ghislain estate. She was visibly shocked at the sight of Vivienne returning with an elf on one side of her and a towering templar on the other.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Indeed," she confirmed, perturbed. "I suppose he's some sort of Dalish advisor on the crisis."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Oh, that's right," Vellena mused. "Vivienne is a mage." She turned away from the window and resumed sipping her tea. "This rebellion is perhaps the worst thing to ever happen to her. I wonder how long before she's ousted from the Winter Palace." She shook her head. "Tsk, tsk. We should've chosen a better ally, Lady Montilyet, someone more...appropriate." Her eyes twinkled.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Unlikely," Josephine shook her head, worry clouding her eyes. "This type of crisis is precisely the reason a First Enchanter is chosen. The Empress will not dismiss her now; she needs her counsel."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Please," Vellena snorted. "Madame de Fer is neither a noble nor an Orlesian, and when a situation like this arises, it creates the perfect opportunity for magical detractors to finally get rid of the mages."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"No one's getting rid of mages," Josephine turned to her. "Mages are essential. This rebellion will be over in a month."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I <i>highly </i>doubt that," Vellena snickered. "Those rebel mages are likely cutting a bloody swath through Fereldan as we speak, opening wounds and reigniting old fires. I can only imagine the chaos." There was dark flicker in her eyes, and she uttered that last word with relish.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Our host has guests," Josephine abruptly changed the subject. "Let's go down and greet them."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vivienne had already forgotten there were two new people in her house now and while she genuinely liked Josephine, she wasn't really in the mood to deal with either of them just now. Before the women finished crossing the foyer, Vivienne politely tried to shoo them away.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Gentlemen, may I introduce Lady Josephine of House Montilyet and Miss Vellena Awbry of Redcliffe," she said quickly. "Ladies, our guests and I have some urgent business to discuss."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"My lords," Vellena curtsied primly.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Cullen responded with a prim bow while Solas laughed aloud. "I assure you, Miss Awbry, we are no lords."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"But I am a lady, and if this is about the crisis, I can be of assistance," Josephine insisted urgently. "My family has many trade connections throughout Fereldan."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vivienne turned to Vellena, who promptly assured her, "I can find diversion, Madame."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vivienne nodded curtly. "To business then."</div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-55429754183157564922023-11-30T18:38:00.036-06:002023-11-30T19:18:13.155-06:00Yeah, I'm Not Done Talking about Found<div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0m3iJ6jJUnjLvnuwTSm6ZCZ3yuyaseMofj1rGDk4vlg8gg-P-dUXzBm4gg4-UVc4b3wjue2PKUBh4EZQmO6AybwF24n4gIlj7CQTanX0l30jsmEHVc6Uq2Bwpo_2tywl_Vf_KRNC-LTyJ6hdwvVe3P0pDr5wezgP4RM8mdDDy_cGpKVRqBwmmk6XabsrN/s1825/sir_and_gabi.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="1217" data-original-width="1825" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0m3iJ6jJUnjLvnuwTSm6ZCZ3yuyaseMofj1rGDk4vlg8gg-P-dUXzBm4gg4-UVc4b3wjue2PKUBh4EZQmO6AybwF24n4gIlj7CQTanX0l30jsmEHVc6Uq2Bwpo_2tywl_Vf_KRNC-LTyJ6hdwvVe3P0pDr5wezgP4RM8mdDDy_cGpKVRqBwmmk6XabsrN/w640-h426/sir_and_gabi.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><i>Previously: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/11/not-enough-people-are-talking-about.html">Not Enough People are Talking about NBC's</a></i><a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/11/not-enough-people-are-talking-about.html"> Found <i>(2023)</i></a><br /><br />First off, congrats to the cast and crew of <i>Found</i>; they <a href="https://collider.com/found-season-2-renewed/">just got renewed</a> for a second--and hopefully longer--season.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>***SPOILERS***</b></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But before I get into this, can we please deal with that headline from Collider?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4zGUc6-_FUi_lQIz9Hy9nO9ExHqzdii96FdltA98f4pM9aXWps3s9Hx49THDmiB6H3EMC6y8EQdXAH2Olyu44UJHpEleI4xWGpuGGaX_V3VekxQ8YqBbKj5RBTpflHfsSlWaBXltCjO_t8jypt98Wxz9GR6bwYwHT-lZhHx6oPirz1znXht8OVLB6Ui3J/s1171/collider_headline_gab_and_sir.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="722" data-original-width="1171" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4zGUc6-_FUi_lQIz9Hy9nO9ExHqzdii96FdltA98f4pM9aXWps3s9Hx49THDmiB6H3EMC6y8EQdXAH2Olyu44UJHpEleI4xWGpuGGaX_V3VekxQ8YqBbKj5RBTpflHfsSlWaBXltCjO_t8jypt98Wxz9GR6bwYwHT-lZhHx6oPirz1znXht8OVLB6Ui3J/w400-h246/collider_headline_gab_and_sir.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>click to enlarge</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;">Say what now??? Who's in a "dark romance"? WHO is in a "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJfXC-IwrLs">dark romance</a>"? Lol, now I know good and well y'all don't mean Gabi and Sir. See, this is precisely what's wrong with you people. <i>This </i>is why we can't have nice things.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Like...why? Don't get me wrong, the whole reason I'm writing this is to delve into the bizarre Gabi/Sir relationship, but it's not <i>that </i>kind of relationship. Is there chemistry? Of course. Shanola Hampton and Mark-Paul Gosselaar are two very attractive, age-appropriate actors with functioning eyes. But Gabi and <i>Sir</i>? Hell no.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">"<i>What Mark-Paul [Gosselaar] and I really enjoy playing with is this crazy chemistry," Hampton, who also serves as a producer of the freshman NBC drama, tells TV Guide. "People say this about their shows all the time: 'Oh, you've never seen this before.' And then you're like, 'Oh, I can name three other times.' But you get a chemistry between two characters [on </i>Found<i>] that is not sexual, and it's super, super weird. There's an obsession there. He loves her like a father. But no, not too much. But then, what is this thing that they're going through?! It's undefined, it's weird, it's sick, and it's gross, but I also cannot stop watching it — and that is different</i>." (<a href="https://www.tvguide.com/news/found-nbc-shanola-hampton-gabi-and-sirs-weird-gross-sick-relationship/">Source</a>)</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Now, I wouldn't characterize his love as fatherly either, but you get the gist.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In fact, I wouldn't call it love at all. Sir obsesses over Gabi much like <a href="https://www.womenshealthmag.com/health/a43214205/what-is-erotomania/">the way Joe Goldberg obsesses</a> over women in <i>You</i>. Both men have this weird preoccupation with the "purity" of women. For Joe, a "pure" woman is basically either a normal woman or some sort of damsel in distress, which would explain his pursuit of women who are either deeply damaged (Love, Marienne) or mind-numbingly dull (Natalie, Beck).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But for Sir, pure means <b>pure</b>. My favorite scene in the entire series so far is when Trent (Brett Dalton), Gabi's cop friend, tells her there's been a Sir sighting...in a strip club. She knows right away it's not Sir because 1) he's chained up in her basement, and 2) even if he wasn't, Sir wouldn't be caught dead in a strip club; he would never even step foot into such an "impure" establishment. Gabi and Lacey (Gabrielle Walsh) have a really good laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea. In fact, Sir is so obsessed with purity that at one point early in the season, he refuses to help Gabi on a case because the missing person is a sex worker.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gCEy2YfaCrE?si=wJEMp6Q3I5bIf7MA" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Just like Joe Goldberg, Sir finds "impure" women perfectly expendable.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">One of the great ongoing themes of the scenes with Gabi and Sir is the ethics, or lack thereof, in what Gabi's doing by holding Sir hostage. From a legal standpoint, she's clearly breaking the law. Obviously. The local police chief routinely refers to her and her associates as "vigilantes".</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But things get a little murkier once you start debating the ethics, the morality of the situation. Sure, Gabi has him locked up. But he's fed, clothed, has a window and a comfortable bed, and she's technically using his powers for good. Gabi Mosely is famed for finding people better than law enforcement, to the point that they're starting to question <i>how </i>she's able to find missing people so quickly.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Personally, my only issue is that she chained Sir up in <i>her </i>house. It is my sincere, heartfelt opinion Gabi needs to get that man up out her basement. She should've locked him up somewhere else, far, far away from her home. Yes, the logistics would be complicated, but I don't think y'all are hearing me when I tell you how much he creeps me out.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/kAW6b6BbiZo?si=RMWdxDp6vmFfcDr6" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">See...uh-uh. We're not doing this.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">From the very first episode, I felt the ick was hella strong with this show but this was the first time I came close to actually vomiting in real life. I was saying, "Hell no," right before she did.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Like...I'm a scribbler, not a speaker, but for Season 2, I might hop on YouTube and start a reaction channel <i>just </i>because of this show. Every time I think I've acclimated or that the writers have plateaued and can't freak me out anymore, Sir says or does something to make my flesh crawl in brand new ways.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/aI4c9QE_IbI?si=lZemOIdnHCO7IGQ9" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Ma'am, <b>get that man up out your house</b>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Now, I knew from trailer that the, "You <i>want</i> to be here, don't you?" line was coming, but it wasn't until I saw it in full context that the realization sent shivers up my spine. Fans are wondering how Sir could evade the authorities for 20 years yet somehow be captured by Gabi. I think the simple answer is that he wasn't. This is what he's wanted since the day she escaped: to be back under the same roof and able to see her every day. Probably skipped his happy ass right into that cell.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">By the way, I couldn't find the excerpt where Sir first addresses the issue of "Heavy Boots" (Trent). Since he only can hear muffled sounds, Sir tries to deduce the who's who of Gabi's life and one time, he notices that Mr. Heavy Boots stays the night over. He has the audacity to question Gabi the morning after and demand to know if they've slept together. And this was where I first got the feeling that Sir definitely has some sort of warped sexual interest in Gabi. I'll concede that his emotions may be a little confused, mixed up in his head, seeing as he clearly has a sort of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madonna%E2%80%93whore_complex">Madonna-whore complex</a>, but I cannot believe his interest strictly platonic.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/459_EoUa5VI?si=mS7LhQ2I-TzgxyS-" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Also, I need people to stop feeling sympathy for this man. As a child? Sure. As a man? Hell no. Need I remind people that Sir kidnapped another girl before Gabi and she was never found? That he kidnapped Bella/Lacey WHILE he had Gabi? In fact, we don't know how long Sir was kidnapping young Black girls before Gabi, no doubt trying to find "the right one" (he did say something about being incompatible with the previous victim).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And speaking of Bella/Lacey....</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/C__Y44Li7yM?si=I0R5_6p7Qf9sPQBO" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Sir later tells Gabi that she's like him, not a killer, even though the victim right before her was never found, and he visibly enjoyed using that as a threat when Gabi was his hostage. I, for one, fully believe Sir is a murderer and that his did-I-or-didn't-I dance is just another one of his manipulations. Either way, this continues the central conversation between them: if Sir is a monster for kidnapping people, then what does that make Gabi?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">If I were Gabi and he asked me, I'd simply reply, "I'm a monster...just like you," and let him sit with that. I wouldn't play holier-than-thou; I even bother justifying my actions. I would openly accept that we are <i>both </i>crazy, and it just is what it is.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">One last thought before I go: I find it interesting that certain people are more readily accepting of these two--of all people--as a potential romantic couple than they are of <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/01/thebearfx-why-im-rooting-for-sydney.html">Carmy and Sydney</a>. We are literally experiencing an epidemic of <a href="https://thehill.com/opinion/criminal-justice/4246039-an-epidemic-of-missing-black-women-has-been-ignored-for-too-long/">missing Black women and girls</a>, yet two struggling chefs are unrealistic while <i>these </i>two are somehow a match made in heaven. I mean, that headline didn't even hesitate this time, did it?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Just an observation.</div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-79513451964835366752023-11-29T14:47:00.012-06:002023-11-30T18:43:43.940-06:00Not Enough People are Talking about NBC's Found (2023)<div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnNEySeefdNpQYNqNQXquU_XsHSvpxo-YBMIFg4cxHjTZfC4Ni_Id5aHS5QzigGWQyNqyYh-hudczESnTW6S6jQEhyphenhyphenFuejgs52qH3um_4H2Ka2kCKTkmhPHJ4jv17Ds6Hyu3zVXYde-yvOmEHxsjYmaZhXMx25l_C5L80xKGGAO50u8k-TlNTmP30irF4M/s1280/found_nbc.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnNEySeefdNpQYNqNQXquU_XsHSvpxo-YBMIFg4cxHjTZfC4Ni_Id5aHS5QzigGWQyNqyYh-hudczESnTW6S6jQEhyphenhyphenFuejgs52qH3um_4H2Ka2kCKTkmhPHJ4jv17Ds6Hyu3zVXYde-yvOmEHxsjYmaZhXMx25l_C5L80xKGGAO50u8k-TlNTmP30irF4M/w640-h360/found_nbc.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>I was recently thinking about how I missed Shondaland during the <i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M88yhL1xSaQ">Scandal</a> </i>era (Seasons 1-2 and <i>maybe </i>the first half of 3) and how I wished there was something else to fill the void. <i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OuuY1LuRBjM">How to Get Away with Murder</a></i> was too crazy. <i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zkExYnR2170">Inventing Anna</a></i> only has one season (they could've at least given us a spin-off about the Scriberians).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So enter <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Found_(TV_series)">Found</a></i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>***SPOILERS***</b></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cccG9NNXCew?si=mP6SvsCB6TLNHrbf" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I stumbled across the trailer on Facebook and it immediately messed with my head. The idea that a woman (who finds missing people for a living) kidnapped her kidnapper and chained him up in her basement as a consultant...was just wild.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>The Good Stuff</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/shanolahampton/">Shanola Hampton</a> (Gabi Mosely) and Mark-Paul Gosselaar (Hugh Evans a.k.a. "Sir") are really throwing themselves into their respective roles. We're only nine episodes in as of this writing and you'd think we were on Season 3 or 4. I sense no hesitation or uncertainty with these two; they understood the assignment right away.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">While I'm new to Hampton's work, I've been watching Gosselaar for over 30 years now (*wince*) and he genuinely creeps me out in this role. They could not have chosen a better actor to play Sir, not only because it's deeply disturbing to Gosselaar fans, but because it really just hit me that he's never gotten sufficient credit for his abilities. I have watched him from <i>Saved by the Bell</i> to <i>Law & Order: SVU</i>, <i>Raising the Bar</i> to<i> Franklin & Bash</i>, <i>Rizzoli & Isles</i> through <i>Pitch</i>, <i>The Passage, and Mixed-ish</i>, and he has seamlessly shifted through each persona. He'll change his body if need be, the timbre of his voice, his posture, his walk, even the way he expresses anger or irritation. And some of you are saying, <i>Well yeah...he's an actor</i>. Yeah, well in the age of ripped bodies and nepo babies, <b>most actors suck</b>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But I digress. Mark-Paul Gosselaar is freaking me out on this show, y'all. Psychologically speaking, the "ick" is super strong with this one. I'm talking shuddering, cringing, and even resisting the urge to vomit sometimes. He's <i>that</i> convincing. As "Sir", he portrays a modern-day Puritan who's been obsessed with Gabi for decades (we just found out why this week). He kidnapped her when she was sixteen and held her prisoner for about a year before she escaped.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Enter <a href="https://www.instagram.com/azaria.carter/">A'zaria Carter</a>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip00RJcwSZguBjlIAbVzUDcW5jhIxQpx1_mzIzImGMTo8haAp7DIb7LqNmjm6mpvZBYQzEv9ZQrclUQrdjiMLoPDwnVyEnkNdz_ey4D1CvWAmo-vafEW8IEgl1N6KzbWG4DqKKccha-decBosHDBZ69GGi55TjF5t5CfLcXynf9A8SjEig9KvJNTAyYG90/s1024/azaria_carter_mark_paul_gosselaar.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip00RJcwSZguBjlIAbVzUDcW5jhIxQpx1_mzIzImGMTo8haAp7DIb7LqNmjm6mpvZBYQzEv9ZQrclUQrdjiMLoPDwnVyEnkNdz_ey4D1CvWAmo-vafEW8IEgl1N6KzbWG4DqKKccha-decBosHDBZ69GGi55TjF5t5CfLcXynf9A8SjEig9KvJNTAyYG90/w400-h266/azaria_carter_mark_paul_gosselaar.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">BIG shout-out to A'zaria Carter (of <i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ygCTePH-UVM">P-Valley</a></i> fame), who bravely portrays young Gabi. I've had high hopes for this actress for a while now, and I'm glad to see her spread her wings. In addition to bringing the vulnerability, she brilliantly portrays the fear and tension. As Sir's hostage, she's forced to read constantly, learn scripts, and play out his bizarre fantasy of intellectual discourse at the "family" dinner table. And even though I <i>know</i> it's just a show, I am genuinely terrified every time the show flashes back to Gabi's captivity.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>The Stuff that Needs Work</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The casting and characterization are exceptional. The writing is not.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Don't get me wrong; there's definitely potential. The cast is excellent; the chemistry works, and the ideas behind each character are great: The Olivia Pope upgrade who pisses off law enforcement while doing their job better. The laconic, queer Muslim guy who bashes skulls. The adorkable genius with severe agoraphobia. The traumatized mother turned Sherlock Holmes. The cop who actually wants to protect and serve. The law student who was once held hostage with young Gabi, and helped trigger the great escape. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And the Hannibal Lecter in the basement, giving chillingly accurate insight into missing persons cases.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's brilliant and fresh, but the pacing is horrendous. Everything, especially in the initial episodes, feels rushed. I like that Gabi has a love interest (the cop, portrayed by Brett Dalton) who isn't fugly and is clearly into her. Apparently, <i>Found's</i> writers have the backbone not to shy away from this. But by the time we meet them, they've already slept together, they've got inside jokes and secret looks that viewers have nothing to base on, and so we are completely robbed of the meeting-first-time-followed-by-torturous-slow-burn that we're getting from, say, <i><a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/01/thebearfx-why-im-rooting-for-sydney.html">The Bear</a></i>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The developing relationship between the hot stoic gay (Dhan, portrayed by Karan Oberoi) and the eccentric agoraphobe (Zeke, portrayed by Arlen Escarpeta) was also rushed. Their bonding should've taken at least a couple of seasons. The back and forth between Mosely & Associates and local police is insufficient; she's finding people they can't and typically aren't even looking for. Every episode should open up with commentary from podcasters, TikTokers, and general press about this glaring disparity. The individual cases of the week also feel rushed, like the writers are checking off a list and racing against a clock. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In addition to the rush, there's the tendency to over-explain things. We don't need a show and tell; first rule of using a visual medium is <b>show...don't tell</b>. <i>Show </i>us that Margaret (Kelli Williams) is an extremely observant and perceptive person; don't show AND explain her "super power" to us. We don't that need all that redundancy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The writing appears to be strongest, unsurprisingly, with scenes involving Sir. In fact, I feel like the writers rush through their other scenes just so they can get back to writing Sir. Talk about a rookie mistake; Mark-Paul Gosselaar cannot carry this whole show by himself. It's not fair to him, nor to his castmates. And it's not fair to viewers who are actually interested not only in the rest of the main cast, but the guest cast who portray missing victims that law enforcement generally ignores (Indigenous, undocumented, queer, melanated, sex worker, addict, homeless, etc.).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I know that showrunners have no certainty of renewals these days, but succumbing to that fear merely sabotages their work. And speaking of renewals...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Not Enough People are Talking about this Show</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">While <i>Found </i>has <a href="https://deadline.com/2023/10/found-the-irrational-premiere-ratings-nbc-peacock-1235570471/">impressive numbers</a>, there's not enough chatter about it on social media. Blogs aren't picking it apart and analyzing themes or theories. I have found exactly one YouTuber consistently reviewing episodes; outside of the trailer, nobody's doing reactions.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/bp_7Z5GNp-Q?si=QBMn6KXmfoLUNyjV" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I really, really, <i>really </i>want this show to improve and succeed, and to do so, it needs time. It needs more seasons. The writers need to know they're not going to be canceled before they can finish telling their stories. I want the fandom to grow, even among the weirdoes on Tumblr who ship Gabi with Sir (I'm not linking that insanity. Y'all can go dig for it).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So spread the word, share this post, hop on the socials, and if you're not watching <i>Found</i>, you can on the Peacock app without a subscription (I think).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Next: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/11/yeah-im-not-done-talking-about-found.html">Yeah, I'm Not Done Talking about</a></i><a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/11/yeah-im-not-done-talking-about-found.html"> Found</a></div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-67870099786459957612023-11-17T14:02:00.031-06:002023-11-21T19:30:04.797-06:00The Fall of the House of Usher (2023)<div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVPEph79rQkKw100n42U-x6ofdqFkqJyhm0e8aEAm3vCVvysaW2QYWJAi4yX4gflOVWbkae-NzN6cVEgC-6SUeVvbYpDQ-YODn__wVrAc3PENNUtG4syC3mz4pJn1CczmHmaflH-ZC78TA2JUdTdPqFC6qhLa3p9WNfugmDJMSDeTyORbfpDQvyWig7nOc/s1274/tfothou.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="723" data-original-width="1274" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVPEph79rQkKw100n42U-x6ofdqFkqJyhm0e8aEAm3vCVvysaW2QYWJAi4yX4gflOVWbkae-NzN6cVEgC-6SUeVvbYpDQ-YODn__wVrAc3PENNUtG4syC3mz4pJn1CczmHmaflH-ZC78TA2JUdTdPqFC6qhLa3p9WNfugmDJMSDeTyORbfpDQvyWig7nOc/w640-h364/tfothou.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>L to R: Carla Gugino, Rahul Kohli, Henry Thomas, Samantha Sloyan, Sauriyan Sapkota, T'Nia Miller, Katie Siegel,<br />Bruce Greenwood, and Mary McDonnell.</i></td></tr></tbody></table>Sorry for the lateness; I actually watched this as soon as it dropped, then rewatched it, then rewatched again, then spent weeks watching reaction videos on YouTube. Because I am <i>that </i>obsessed.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Needless to remind you all, <b>spoilers ahead</b>.</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yvuAWVzP6wI">The Fall of the House of Usher</a></i> is famed writer and director Mike Flanagan's last work with Netflix. Some people are calling the success of the show bittersweet, but not me. After Netflix decided to cancel <i>The Midnight Club</i>, I was actually comforted to know he was <a href="https://www.fangoria.com/original/hill-house-creator-mike-flanagan-is-leaving-netflix-for-amazon-prime-video/#:~:text=According%20to%20Deadline%2C%20Flanagan%20and,their%20Intrepid%20Pictures%20production%20company.">shopping for more reliable streamers</a>. And since we all know Netflix is gonna stay Netflixing, it suddenly made sense to me why Flanagan's projects were usually one and done--a movie, a miniseries--'cause Lord knows we <i>cannot </i>trust those people.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Edgar Allan Poe fans will recognize the title right off the bat, but if you haven't seen the series, please be advised that the show is inspired by the names of his characters, and the titles and themes of his works. It is not a direct adaptation of his stories. In fact, the House of Usher is a modern-day family based on the real-life <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sackler_family">Sackler family</a> who are widely dubbed the "most evil family in America". Thus, <i>House of Usher</i> is not really a scary show because you spend every episode rooting for (most of) them to die. And die they do, not just in physically horrific ways, but psychologically. I thought it was absolutely brilliant.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Thanks to my obsession with Poe in my teen years, and having recently watched Netflix's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24-YonhNS0Y"><i>Painkiller</i></a>, I was instantly up to speed with where the story was going. Our gory tale begins with patriarch Roderick Usher burying the last three of his six children (the other three having died the week earlier). But unlike with the first funeral, only his remaining family--twin sister Madeline and granddaughter Lenore--and the family attorney Arthur Pym (a.k.a. the Pym Reaper) are present. We later find out the ghost of his dead first wife is also in attendance, as two the of the children were hers.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">See, Roderick had six children with five mothers, and Flanagan decided to bring back some of his favorite actors from his previous works. Naturally, the Usher family ends up looking quite diverse (see picture above), because that's what happens when your dad is a promiscuous, jet-setting billionaire who can't be bothered to wrap it up.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The usual demographic was upset with all the diversity, calling it "unrealistic" and "woke"--the usual song--but fans of the Flanaverse understood that this is their last hurrah with Netflix, so of course, they're gonna go out together.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I liked how we're introduced to the Usher siblings from oldest to youngest, and then watch them die from youngest to oldest (took me a couple watches to catch that). The oldest two, Frederick ("Frauderick") and Tamerlane, are the "legitimate" children, borne of Roderick's late wife Annabel Lee. The last four--Victorine, Napoleon ("Leo"), Camille, and Prospero ("Perry")--are not-so-fondly dubbed as the Bastards. Roderick loves his children equally, in that he didn't raise any of them to adulthood, doesn't do family dinners, and never picks up their calls.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I also liked how the Usher children are color-coded--their clothes, apartments, cars, etc.--and as their death nears, their assigned color intensifies, permeating the entire screen. Of course, I didn't catch that one on my own. The YouTube reactors did.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The Usher siblings are also predominantly queer, which didn't even register to me until the usual demographic took issue, and I finally noticed that oh yeah, they're hella queer. In fact, I think only Frauderick was coded as straight. I didn't see this as queerbait or pandering or anything of the like, because growing statistical and anecdotal evidence shows that most human beings are queer (hello, yours truly). What keeps them from openly being so are the usual obstacles--friends, family, community, laws of the land. The Ushers, however, are shielded from consequences, both by virtue of their sheer wealth and influence...and the fact their father and Aunt Madeline once made a deal with the Raven to avoid consequences in general.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh, yes.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Carla Gugino gives a profound performance as Verna (anagram of "Raven"), an immortal, shapeshifting entity who effortlessly changes accents. On New Year's Eve in 1979, the Usher twins, Roderick and Madeline, happen upon her bar where she offers them a deal: they get to be billionaires running a vast corporate empire with no consequences, but their bloodline ends with them. She literally states,"...the next generation foots the bill." Roderick, the impulsive twin, agrees immediately, as though he's forgotten all about his two small children back home with his wife. Madeline, the smarter twin, is hesitant but ultimately agrees, as the deal is invalid unless they're both onboard. After a life of abusive childhoods and poverty, it seems like a good deal at the time.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Viewers will note, however, that in the decades to come, Madeline never has children of her own.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">There's some debate about who or what Verna really, since it's never clarified in the show. However, fans of Poe will remember that he used ravens as symbols and emissaries of Death, so it's safe to assume Verna is some form of Death, seeing as her deals are literally paid with death.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">There's also some debate as to whether or not Roderick and Madeline knew the deal was real. When they leave the bar, it vanishes behind them. And years after these two idiots make a deal with Death (seriously, Madeline, I expected better from you), they're suddenly "shocked" that people are dying. The twins claim they didn't know, that they were drunk and high, that they were distracted by the fact they'd murdered someone earlier that night. They even claim they forgot all about Verna. I rolled my eyes at this because they knew. The moment Verna returns to their lives they recognize her instantly. They suddenly remember ALL the details of that night instantly. Madeline even goes right back to where the bar was. So I say they knew, which makes Roderick all the more despicable because he just kept right on having children.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And here enters the tragic tale of his granddaughter Lenore. The daughter of Frauderick and Morella, Lenore Usher is a teenager who somehow grew up to be a decent human being despite her whole entire family being trash. In fact, Lenore is so different from her family, that some fans (myself included), hoped she wasn't really an Usher. In Episode 2, Morella Usher is shown perfectly willing to cheat on her husband (with Perry, of all people), so the writers could have gone in that direction. Not only would it have been a hilarious twist (that made perfect sense), it would've spared so many fans <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/alrightsnaps/731175851791679488/the-show-is-literally-called-the-fall-of-the">the heartache</a>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But with Lenore's death, we get three important things. First, we get proof that Verna isn't evil; she lets Lenore know that her bravery will save millions of lives and that she takes no pleasure in ending the young girl's life. Two, Bruce Greenwood's performance as Roderick Usher when he finds Lenore's body. He's magnificent throughout the series, but even more so the way he quotes "The Raven" in a voiceover while mourning his granddaughter on screen. And three, we see why Verna interacts with the Usher siblings before claiming their lives. It's not just torture, it's a test. See, if each and every single one of them wasn't a great big ball of shit, they could've died peacefully in their beds like Lenore.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Suffice to say, <i>The Fall of the House of Ushe</i>r is my new favorite series, such that I watch almost every YouTube reaction I can find. Ergo, I want to give a big shout-out to my favorite TFOTHOU reactor, Syntell. He teamed up with the Geekish Network to do the reactions and they are very, <i>very </i>funny. They're also finished, so you don't have to wait for additional videos.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/mDyqMtsHNHg?si=NDavcLEtH9A0UPB8" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I only recently stumbled across 97Til; their channel is quite new. They had me cracking up with their reactions, especially when they first heard the Ushers were being hit with seventy-three charges. They're just getting started, so it'll be some days before they finish the whole series (they're not waiting weeks between episodes).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ixYpnZaM1kE?si=fQLwFgpGKUZUwMaD" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Last but not least, shout-out to Mike Flanagan and his stellar cast for yet another masterpiece. I'm really looking forward to see what they'll do once they find a home on a streaming service that doesn't cancel shows at the drop of a hat.</div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-36629225402145196572023-11-12T19:49:00.003-06:002023-12-30T23:21:25.498-06:00Death and the Madame<div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqbGUvuinNIAg4Ue4D1MxLUad-SzggD39Up1JpjYa_-g1UkcIVWGN1KbxNDFU-nq1ViNfsS5Fx2B7AWjQaBDASs14hmUgurt3eNtfkWAk02vgigXSHRKBH2KZZ_m00_GsF6Fnwk0mgpq9Oy-IfDij5TXDu3AkrfOHJ1J0wVQ9kCAqWvbdJFE6UoLWUVlcX/s909/cold_hearts.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="694" data-original-width="909" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqbGUvuinNIAg4Ue4D1MxLUad-SzggD39Up1JpjYa_-g1UkcIVWGN1KbxNDFU-nq1ViNfsS5Fx2B7AWjQaBDASs14hmUgurt3eNtfkWAk02vgigXSHRKBH2KZZ_m00_GsF6Fnwk0mgpq9Oy-IfDij5TXDu3AkrfOHJ1J0wVQ9kCAqWvbdJFE6UoLWUVlcX/w640-h488/cold_hearts.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Listening to "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KqUiBtu9eEY&pp=ygU1ZHJhZ29uIGFnZSBpbnF1aXNpdGlvbiBzb3VuZHRyYWNrIHRoZSB3ZWxsIG9mIHNvcnJvd3M%3D">The Well of Sorrows</a>"</i></td></tr></tbody></table><i>Previously: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/11/prologue-wintersend.html">Wintersend</a></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><b>A/N</b> ~ Yes, I realize what I'm doing is far from canon. Alas...I do not care. These two characters fascinate the hell out of me, so much they're alleviating my writer's block. A win is a win.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><b><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9y7fNjifN-w">Ghislain Estate</a></b></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><b>Val Royeaux, Orlais - </b></i><i><b>25 Years Later</b></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It was raining in Val Royeaux. Of course, it was always raining these days, even when it wasn't.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It alternately drizzled and poured cold, fat drops from the gray skies. Vivienne de Fer, as she was now known, didn't care if she soaked. The closest she came to her lover these days was the late Duke's tombstone. The cold, unyielding stone beneath her fingers, the impassively elegant lettering etched across it, and the soft earth beneath her shoes were her only solace these days.</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">She hadn't meant to love him; Bastien was always intended to be just a stepping stone into Orlesian high society. But he had loved her, openly and unapologetically, and in time he'd won her affection.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Now he was gone.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Clad in black and gray, Vivienne wept shamelessly for days after his passing. The loss of him was such a shock, even though he was obviously much older than she, and his health had been failing in the late years. After the tears dried, the panic set in. She was not his wife, not even after all this time. She couldn't be. Despite all her accomplishments, she was still a commoner and a mage.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Then the will was read, and the late Duke decreed she could not only remain at his family estate until her death, but that she was also to receive a large stipend as well. Even in death, he loved and protected her, bringing her to a new bout of tears.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Days turned to weeks, and the tears dried, leaving behind a dry bitterness. She could not marry, at least not anyone of high birth. Though still a great beauty, she was long past her child-bearing years. It was as though Bastien's death had burst the bubbling she'd been living in all this time, leaving behind a very sobering reality.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I've gone as high as I can go</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">She would never be a Duchess or any sort of official noblewoman. If she took another lover, Bastien's son Laurent would be pressured to kick her out of the family estate and terminate her stipend.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">She was still First Enchanter to the Empress, a hard-fought position that earned her many enemies. Even so, the salary was nowhere near what she needed to maintain her lifestyle, and the position itself had no upward mobility.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I'm trapped</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vivienne winced at the harsh truth of her own thoughts. She wasn't panicking yet, for as long as she remained as she was, she would be fine.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But Vivienne had never been happy with just being "fine".</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"This Madame de Fer has quite the fine home," Vellena Awbrey noted, walking the marble floors of the foyer. Orlesian estates were so grand, with endless gold and marble and so many fountains, inside as well as out. It was opulence bordering on obscenity.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"This is the Ghislain Estate," Lady Josephine Montilyet explained. "Madame de Fer was mistress to the late Duke."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vellena turned to her guide, eyes wide. She was a short, curvy young woman with dark brown skin and long black hair she wore in elaborate locs. She wore a proper velvet dress and cloak in the Fereldan fashion, with furs upon her shoulders. Back in Redcliffe, she was the pinnacle of fashion and refinement. But here....</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"This 'estate' is large enough to host my whole village," the young woman scowled.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Careful now," Josephine murmured lowly. She was a tall Antivan, black-haired, copper-skinned, with a thick rolling accent. "You are among Orlesians. You cannot show weakness of any kind."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vellena scoffed, "I'm well aware of how to navigate nobility."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Not like these," Josephine assured her. Her tone was light, and her lips smiling slightly, but her dark eyes betrayed the gravity of the situation.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vellena let out a soft snort. "Ah, yes...the famed acerbity of the Orlesians." Her scowl deepened as her tone became even more sullen. "I assure you there are fates far worse than ridicule, Lady Montilyet."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Then you haven't been ridiculed by the Orlesians," a new voice entered the conversation. Vellena turned to see a tall, slim woman in a flowing gown of black and gray coming down the grand marble staircase. She wore a mask of polished silver and her footsteps echoed in the great hall.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"When Bastien and I began our relationship," she continued, "these Orlesian sent bards to make an example of me."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Half of which you sent back frozen solid," Vellena finished the story, as though in a dream. She seemed mesmerized by the First Enchanter.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vivienne raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk. "I see you've the stories, Miss...?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Vellena Awbrey of Redcliffe," Josephine helpfully introduced.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Vellena Awbrey," Vivienne repeated slowly, looking the younger woman over. "Fine dress you've got there, Miss Awbrey."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"By Fereldan standards, of course," Vellena quipped, tilting her head slightly. "Which I'm just now noticing you are as well."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Indeed," Vivienne nodded. "Josephine tells me your parents want to introduce you to society?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"My parents have many children," Vellena snorted. "My eldest brother is their pride, my eldest sister their joy. Or, at least, she <i>was</i> their joy...until she had the good grace to die in childbirth, at which time my mother suddenly remembered I existed."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vivienne knew better than to offer condolences to this girl. "I take it your sister's child did not survive?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Correct," Vellena blinked. "And now my mother is working through her grief by trying to force me into marriage. My sister charmed an Orlesian baron, so naturally my mother is hoping I can nab myself a count." She bit out that last word like it was poison.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"A count?" Vivienne's eyes widened. "Your mother is quite ambitious."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Delusional, actually," came yet another quip. "I know I'm not what Orlesian lords are looking for."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I keep trying to explain to Miss Awbrey that Orlesian lords are the same as all the others," Josephine finally interjected. "They want a proper girl, well-bred with a dowry."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Don't forget good hips for breeding," Vivienne added, coming to stand before the younger woman and look her over once more. "And as fate would have it, Miss Awbrey, you are and have all those things."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vellena was impatient. "I'm sure there are a lot of Orlesian girls who also have those things."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vivienne was amused, "Have you met many Orlesian noble girls? They are <i>infamous</i> for being annoying. I take it your family sent you to stay with Josephine in order to raise your social standing?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Yes, Madame. My family has some connections in Orlais, but they're mostly among the Chantry. They're trying to branch out, which I understand; my father's a businessman above all. But what I don't understand," Vellena raised an eyebrow, "is why the First Enchanter to the Empress herself would have any interest in a nobody like me."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Both Vivienne and Josephine chuckled. "We three are all foreigners here in Orlais, where favor is as fleeting as the wind. We have to stick together, Miss Awbrey. Josephine and I can teach you all about the culture and help you make the appropriate connections, so that when you marry and marry well, you can show us both your...gratitude."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The younger woman's head slowly rose in fell, but Vivienne wasn't sure if it was in understanding or disgust. Either way, she remembered that feeling.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Well, I suppose I should just grin and bear it," Vellena finally resolved herself. "After all, there are worse places to weather this latest crisis."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Now Vivienne was the one caught off guard. Her head tilted slightly, subconsciously, as though she'd misheard.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Crisis?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Next: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/12/crisis.html">Crisis</a></i></div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-49229050178667963722023-11-12T17:37:00.006-06:002023-11-12T19:49:47.681-06:00Prologue: Wintersend<div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCceMkX3Fgn-9PGYnwUBm8nTw6Ln5cX1kxeKzioi7jedydO-YXaN5lENrOvx4LTHL7kJ4iT7T9v3j8sRJeKPociRzMmP_8W-qmA4Ugnub5ReqGpK8UprruQoHaP0MKXgMfc8MY5LdWHwt2_q4XP64_7eFEfkw7s4nJlVhbR_mCX9fTlhyChxBT-tKm0_SJ/s909/cold_hearts.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="694" data-original-width="909" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCceMkX3Fgn-9PGYnwUBm8nTw6Ln5cX1kxeKzioi7jedydO-YXaN5lENrOvx4LTHL7kJ4iT7T9v3j8sRJeKPociRzMmP_8W-qmA4Ugnub5ReqGpK8UprruQoHaP0MKXgMfc8MY5LdWHwt2_q4XP64_7eFEfkw7s4nJlVhbR_mCX9fTlhyChxBT-tKm0_SJ/w640-h488/cold_hearts.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Listening to Orlais Theme and <a href="https://youtu.be/rRWe-igolq4?si=1SVkzItzrCv0DFSl">Val Royeaux Theme</a></i></td></tr></tbody></table><i>Previously: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/11/cold-hearts.html">Dramatis Personae</a></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><b>Imperial Wintersend Ball of 9:16 <a href="https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Dragon_Age_(time_period)">Dragon</a></b></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vivienne had never seen anything like the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjD5xsv8-5Y">Winter Palace</a>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The wide-eyed nineteen-year-old drifted through the lofty marble halls as though in a dream, taking in the unspeakable opulence. She was no stranger to castles or members of the aristocracy, but she was stranger to luxury and finery on this scale.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The tall, dark-skinned maiden was Fereldan yet had always been fascinated with Orlesian culture. Their nobles wore impeccable silks and intoxicating perfumes; they donned polished masks and were never seen barefaced in public.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I belong here</i>.</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vivienne blinked, briefly taken aback by her own thoughts. She was not a noble, she was not Orlesian, and the only reason she was even here now was that mages from the White Spire and the Montsimmard Circle--her Circle--were invited to entertain the court. She had no birthright, clout, or claim of any kind that would allow her to inhabit this wondrous realm and yet...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I belong here</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The thought was less shocking this time as she was slowly lulled into this world. She needed to find its pulse, learn what made it tick so she could find an opening and gain a foothold.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Spectacular, isn't it?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vivienne turned to see a shaven-haired stranger with twinkling eyes. He was no Orlesian either, but fully Elven, replete with daintily pointed ears. Judging by his poise, he was also clearly a mage.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He work a long dark gray silk robes, and simple yet elegant circlet upon his bald head. Unlike the perfumed Orlesians milling about them, he smelled of wind, rain, and forest. He stood with his hands primly clasped behind his back, his shoulders high and perfectly confident.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">His pale skin was smooth, unlined, but that told her nothing. She could never accurately guess the ages of Elves. She met them so rarely. And while they were on the subject....</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I didn't expect to meet an Elf at the Winter Palace," she finally replied.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He smiled, but even as his lips curved, his eyes were unreadable. "Surely, you mean an Elven <i>guest</i>," he raised an eyebrow. "There's no shortage of servants with pointed ears."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Elves were looked down upon no matter where they went, and though Vivienne didn't agree with that attitude, she knew she'd never fit into this society if she spent the whole night talking to this man, no matter how...intriguing he was.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I am Solas," he finally introduced himself, never breaking eye contact. Vivienne found herself unable to break eye contact either, suddenly noting how deep his voice was.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Vivienne," she replied softly, gazing at him, whether in wonder or confusion. Why was he even talking to her?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"And to which Circle do you belong, Miss Vivienne?" he asked.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Oh, right</i>, she blinked, remembering. <i>We're both mages</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">She was surprised by the slight pang of disappointment.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Montsimmard," she said lowly, shoulders falling slightly. "You?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He let out a soft snort. "Oh, I'm no Circle mage."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vivienne stiffened. "Daelish then?" She <i>definitely</i> needed to get away from this man.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"No, no," Solas shook his head. "Not that either."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vivienne's eyes widened. "You're...self-taught?" she asked hesitantly, her voice just above a whisper.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Quite," he smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The only thing more scandalous than a Daelish mage was a hedge mage, and Vivienne desperately needed out of this conversation. And yet, she felt split into two. One half of her wanted to stay and talk with this man. Though scandalous, she'd always secretly found hedge mages fascinating. She even admired the ones who didn't self-destruct.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The other half of her was distracted by the polished floors and high ceilings of the candlelit Winter Palace; she was beguiled by the sound of a full orchestra and the smell of rare wine left to breath in golden goblets. She could smell money and power as easily as she could smell perfume; her desires stubbornly tugged at her, body and soul.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"And to what do I owe the pleasure of meeting a hedge mage...at the Winter Palace?" Vivienne asked tightly. She didn't want to be rude.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I'm a consultant of sorts for the Templars," he replied, lips teasing an amused smirk. "And you are quite young to be a fully fledged mage."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"One of the youngest in history," she nodded, suddenly feeling proud. "I was originally at the Ostwick Circle, but I was recently transferred to Montsimmard."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Just in time for an Imperial ball," Solas mused, widening his eyes slightly. "What make of you these people?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I'm a great admirer of Orlesian culture," she admitted with a nod, turning back to the throngs of nobles. "I feel quite privileged to be in Orlais."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Privilege is the theme of the evening, isn't it?" he pondered, turning with her to face the crowd. "I haven't been at court for some time now. I must confess I've missed it. These Orlesians navigate high society very much like a complex dance, smiling and chuckling as they sip champagne with their mortal enemies."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Vivienne blinked surprised. "You come to court often?" It seemed she'd underestimated this man's importance.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Every now and again. The Empress values her relationship with the Chantry, who value <i>their </i>relationship with the Templars...as do I."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Her brain started spinning, calculating the possibilities. "Then what make of <i>you </i>these people?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Well, they don't fear magic, that's for certain," he shrugged slightly, starting to walk. She walked with him. "Every noble house has its own mage. You'd think we were just accessories to them, nothing more than status symbols." He bit out that last part.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"What benefits are there to being attached to a noble house?" she inquired casually.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Some money," Solas shrugged again, "comfort, prestige of sorts." He turned to her. "But you'll never be seen as an equal. You would always be their servant and expected to protect their lives with yours."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I could find a way around that that</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Is that why you threw your lot in with the Templars?" Vivienne asked.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"They do grant me a measure freedom to conduct my research," he told her. "I get to come and go as I please."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">She knew it was a jab at her Circle mage status, but ignored it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Solas was supposed to be in a room somewhere, pretending to care as stuffy politicians bickered with brusque templars and aloof clerics from the <a href="https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Orlesian_Chantry">Chantry</a>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He hadn't meant to chat with Vivienne this long. She was very young after all, easily enthralled by this pretentious world of pomp and perfume. But she was also the most stunning woman at the ball.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In the flickering lights of the palace candles, her dark skin shone like nothing he'd ever seen before. She had big beautiful, dark eyes, cheekbones that reached to the heavens, and the lips of a goddess. Despite being a Circle mage, she surprisingly liked to show skin. Vivienne wore a long, split-sleeve linen gown of muted purple that had a neckline which plunged to the point of shocking. She smelled of lavender and violets. She wore no jewelry and such was her beauty that it required no adornment.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Solas worked with women every day, from soldiers, to noblewomen, and even fellow mages. None had ever affected him in this manner because never met anyone like Vivienne.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Even as he maintained his calm detachment, he wanted to know more about her, know everything in fact. Her family wasn't noble; he could tell and liked her all the more for it. Her accept was crisp, proper, and she was learned, as was to be expected from a mage. But it didn't him about <i>her</i>, and with every polite response and composed mannerism, he yearned to know more.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But just as she was about to reply to his Circle mage comment, a page approached them and bowed to Vivienne.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"My lady," the Orlesian servant said, "the Duke de Ghislain humbly requests a dance."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Of course he does</i>, Solas mused, watching the young mage's eyes light up. He could practically hear her heart fluttering at the word "duke".</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Lead the way," Vivienne gasped, suddenly breathless. "Mister Solas," she said in quick farewell before nervously following the page back to his master.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Solas watched her go, and then spent the rest of evening watch her repeatedly dance with the Orlesian duke. In fact, the Duke only danced with her the whole night, much to the shocked whispers of the court. Solas could see the future as though he were an oracle; next Ghislain was going to send expensive gifts and lofty letters, then he would make her his mistress, then he would formally move her into his estate. Proper society would reject until it no longer could, and soon, this unrivaled beauty would become a popular addition to the elite.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And no one could stop it, not even a powerful hedge mage from the North.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Next: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/11/death-and-madame.html">Death and the Madame</a></i></div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-75637546809966723392023-11-12T16:52:00.008-06:002023-11-26T18:14:34.586-06:00Cold Hearts<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCceMkX3Fgn-9PGYnwUBm8nTw6Ln5cX1kxeKzioi7jedydO-YXaN5lENrOvx4LTHL7kJ4iT7T9v3j8sRJeKPociRzMmP_8W-qmA4Ugnub5ReqGpK8UprruQoHaP0MKXgMfc8MY5LdWHwt2_q4XP64_7eFEfkw7s4nJlVhbR_mCX9fTlhyChxBT-tKm0_SJ/s909/cold_hearts.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="694" data-original-width="909" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCceMkX3Fgn-9PGYnwUBm8nTw6Ln5cX1kxeKzioi7jedydO-YXaN5lENrOvx4LTHL7kJ4iT7T9v3j8sRJeKPociRzMmP_8W-qmA4Ugnub5ReqGpK8UprruQoHaP0MKXgMfc8MY5LdWHwt2_q4XP64_7eFEfkw7s4nJlVhbR_mCX9fTlhyChxBT-tKm0_SJ/w640-h488/cold_hearts.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Cold Hearts</i> is an alternate universe story set in the world of <i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EjANbD_mDQk&list=PLklsRW7WPNp8VQMfPLMVZSYVkdQ15iUM3">Dragon Age</a></i>. The story follows a mage rebellion that plunges Thedas into chaos.</div></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0C7yJ2FBe3U8p1EhRaHu7UDu0rq368xK2DsKGbD9OdBiITXM_n6uzfFtZtpIIE9LDdy4VJqzs9Os-HqJK3KvZ02m1NVtP3P-MDxMAE6o3kHSwzEkZ9-mMYeTTCj_G-LjZYLnMz520jlE3mDKaq6fxvhv8CxlhsCK8W5Iwx52gqagI6IrMLuB05dKqlj0/s815/michaela_coel.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="815" data-original-width="622" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0C7yJ2FBe3U8p1EhRaHu7UDu0rq368xK2DsKGbD9OdBiITXM_n6uzfFtZtpIIE9LDdy4VJqzs9Os-HqJK3KvZ02m1NVtP3P-MDxMAE6o3kHSwzEkZ9-mMYeTTCj_G-LjZYLnMz520jlE3mDKaq6fxvhv8CxlhsCK8W5Iwx52gqagI6IrMLuB05dKqlj0/s320/michaela_coel.png" width="244" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Michaela Coel as Vivienne</i></td></tr></tbody></table><a href="https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Vivienne">Vivienne de Fer</a> is a mage from Orlais and Court Enchanter to its Empress.<div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzy5Bxc56-QH5NkMHStRcrlEREDvmmVKZuOP8hOOULzXsgneIc6ewgQzADAfQWlmTx_Z0_YpJ2uoWiB8-m_s85WwNcACLjnkU7_23kKPKK2mzceM9Gc5F-u0z7YzN_V1VQYVNf9hsY7dc17FU8stPacnJmHPuzsx0J9kPsYHhZSPmVganLT1ydrKxLSVQ/s1102/james%20mcavoy.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1102" data-original-width="735" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzy5Bxc56-QH5NkMHStRcrlEREDvmmVKZuOP8hOOULzXsgneIc6ewgQzADAfQWlmTx_Z0_YpJ2uoWiB8-m_s85WwNcACLjnkU7_23kKPKK2mzceM9Gc5F-u0z7YzN_V1VQYVNf9hsY7dc17FU8stPacnJmHPuzsx0J9kPsYHhZSPmVganLT1ydrKxLSVQ/w252-h378/james%20mcavoy.jpg" width="252" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>James McAvoy as Solas</i></td></tr></tbody></table><a href="https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Solas">Solas</a> is a mysterious hedge mage "from the North".</div><div><br /></div><div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbyEYeCTq_revb88CA54g50NF7iT6394S6HTad_f9PPWoEhy7SE9hKfAR1DnTjiPHym8wKp11HwTFD4xSbWFYqPh5puX3k9l8D2g08LpVqVK6S6kS_7Ajbnza5S5eSwyZWvJz6H3J1sFibNHD3aE7d7lK3D-ZuoJfyo4ke1ED2gnYAFoxR2pMy2bbhJVo/s355/celia_rose_gooding.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="355" data-original-width="283" height="349" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbyEYeCTq_revb88CA54g50NF7iT6394S6HTad_f9PPWoEhy7SE9hKfAR1DnTjiPHym8wKp11HwTFD4xSbWFYqPh5puX3k9l8D2g08LpVqVK6S6kS_7Ajbnza5S5eSwyZWvJz6H3J1sFibNHD3aE7d7lK3D-ZuoJfyo4ke1ED2gnYAFoxR2pMy2bbhJVo/w278-h349/celia_rose_gooding.png" width="278" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Celia Rose Gooding as Vellena Awbrey</i></td></tr></tbody></table>Vellena is the daughter of a noble family from <a href="https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Redcliffe_Castle">Redcliffe</a>.</div></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi81MWwB1kvVLAwDJF8INDOTeE0lZo5WPOlyVjyCujBqFTlVVxz1-3rJrzy4cdIMiOhtHDFu3u8COltKUWVqm0snwMldcD-53-5X3Y5-56d4ai_D6QCaQMueiEOwa5P3iSSv-xejFKSBhFLBTVJBDLP4YSpdGO6h8L_Gi-Rm8HsX6b_7OTH9yYoK8soWlw/s734/liv_hill.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="734" data-original-width="492" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi81MWwB1kvVLAwDJF8INDOTeE0lZo5WPOlyVjyCujBqFTlVVxz1-3rJrzy4cdIMiOhtHDFu3u8COltKUWVqm0snwMldcD-53-5X3Y5-56d4ai_D6QCaQMueiEOwa5P3iSSv-xejFKSBhFLBTVJBDLP4YSpdGO6h8L_Gi-Rm8HsX6b_7OTH9yYoK8soWlw/w243-h362/liv_hill.png" width="243" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Liv Hill as Amethyne Flint</i></td></tr></tbody></table>Amethyne is a young mage from <a href="https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Circle_Tower">Ferelden</a>.<br /><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgECkHj2kdjUT7l3ZZTjCZSjLk5HNz4n0yAiSp3v2I4EufCpLNzn1Lb7jq7YuvB-IOH3XDWE_kDuqZ-esHDw4WFTHWg4eBHFYiCeMj_4FMBF-WlvZBCrBIwdRc2w5GfyfMqikNHFvfk8C4BC2HbTE8vtZLqBHgL3biRiuUd7zcuINS0vSSdXOQ_YJV9x3WT/s585/bradley_james.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="447" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgECkHj2kdjUT7l3ZZTjCZSjLk5HNz4n0yAiSp3v2I4EufCpLNzn1Lb7jq7YuvB-IOH3XDWE_kDuqZ-esHDw4WFTHWg4eBHFYiCeMj_4FMBF-WlvZBCrBIwdRc2w5GfyfMqikNHFvfk8C4BC2HbTE8vtZLqBHgL3biRiuUd7zcuINS0vSSdXOQ_YJV9x3WT/w261-h340/bradley_james.png" width="261" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bradley James as Cullen Rutherford</td></tr></tbody></table><a href="https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Cullen_Rutherford">Cullen</a> is a Fereldan templar.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF1ZI_ZQ406VFw8v7iyo2MjjMjqWo5gLMIB4qaH30qGqO-fWTRfjunlT2Zbk9OSX8LTtJ0aTlAq1mtS-3__PmozFZVXvQ3QrHaLa_NRmyfJYmke30ulA7jXIAovgS-1IEnQVwDLGfHC44sKs5J1ynj8BkSrd7Lfzf0yi7RR9saJhQxEr-8bMwA7lQoP5AL/s774/melissa_barrera.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="774" data-original-width="557" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF1ZI_ZQ406VFw8v7iyo2MjjMjqWo5gLMIB4qaH30qGqO-fWTRfjunlT2Zbk9OSX8LTtJ0aTlAq1mtS-3__PmozFZVXvQ3QrHaLa_NRmyfJYmke30ulA7jXIAovgS-1IEnQVwDLGfHC44sKs5J1ynj8BkSrd7Lfzf0yi7RR9saJhQxEr-8bMwA7lQoP5AL/w237-h330/melissa_barrera.png" width="237" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Melissa Cabrerra as Lady Montilyet</i></td></tr></tbody></table><a href="https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Josephine_Montilyet">Josephine Montilyet</a> is the heir apparent to a rising noble house.<br /><div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGoDNEACxpqOLIwuA1Pd-yTS6AwGePK5Z-xnQyIKLbxLUbzQP-6ipdYnBM9svrgD37tQKITRJzAzRVLqOf_EcL9Udj9gwqfAn6FCv1OscqpzzsUGZmP5vKQZaVLp18wX3DxflwU80iv2fu3nIl4M0pvb9H_e82Z6cSdJMu9kKM0erbAnWE0P4TjybuH0k/s988/colin_morgan.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="988" data-original-width="735" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGoDNEACxpqOLIwuA1Pd-yTS6AwGePK5Z-xnQyIKLbxLUbzQP-6ipdYnBM9svrgD37tQKITRJzAzRVLqOf_EcL9Udj9gwqfAn6FCv1OscqpzzsUGZmP5vKQZaVLp18wX3DxflwU80iv2fu3nIl4M0pvb9H_e82Z6cSdJMu9kKM0erbAnWE0P4TjybuH0k/w256-h344/colin_morgan.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Colin Morgan as Ruahn</i></td></tr></tbody></table>Ruahn is a <a href="https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Tranquil">Tranquil</a>, and the closest thing Solas has to a friend.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Next: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/11/prologue-wintersend.html">Wintersend</a></i></div></div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-45485283563701626082023-10-24T01:47:00.004-05:002023-10-24T02:01:45.775-05:00Sunny Vale<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9_GJY45Jvi-0aX7IcaMaQk_VTXY7ByLMTtzisFOaNTBSurUGIaAmkfGwHVm7DM54fFS-_yLYtsUUkktNb_tXUQTmyx8XPomN055r6R3P26viMhCxumgXGNkTRX4rRD9E62XgCgwfkvTb8p2QRu6JSyq-M97ghzZKxYK2OsbEUYtYVtC0TJof2T76ccQN/s943/sunny_vale.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="529" data-original-width="943" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9_GJY45Jvi-0aX7IcaMaQk_VTXY7ByLMTtzisFOaNTBSurUGIaAmkfGwHVm7DM54fFS-_yLYtsUUkktNb_tXUQTmyx8XPomN055r6R3P26viMhCxumgXGNkTRX4rRD9E62XgCgwfkvTb8p2QRu6JSyq-M97ghzZKxYK2OsbEUYtYVtC0TJof2T76ccQN/w640-h360/sunny_vale.png" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;">This is just a joke/idea.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I've been watching all these young people on YouTube <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L9zJQPmUDW8&list=PLv-lcP_asXQtJ_z9UIgeyYwXQUxatGRaO">react to the Buffyverse</a> for the first time, and after enjoying the vicarious (and often hilarious) thrill of reliving the first-time <i>Buffy</i> experience, my brain began braining.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Set during the Middle Ages, this (obviously) alternate universe story follows the Bellfleur sisters, two Parisian noblewomen suddenly forced to flee their home. They move to a small town populated by the most unusual characters.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiyYhsIN2IbDl5BLlTTQMSZY77WHwauBPbD7Gc-LjEdNbMnY1OXngIIWz8RkwKyXa7Cw8xUAG9AradCfUedYRomtsItkxQf3jObcjUl8KjQru0bX6vMs5rJDSzsJKw78d_KeF47vNKqXPcv0jbc9Oe3j6PIX6RDnjIidZmJCtwKCvmALXjdHbs2a3Z6owr/s815/Aura.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="613" data-original-width="815" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiyYhsIN2IbDl5BLlTTQMSZY77WHwauBPbD7Gc-LjEdNbMnY1OXngIIWz8RkwKyXa7Cw8xUAG9AradCfUedYRomtsItkxQf3jObcjUl8KjQru0bX6vMs5rJDSzsJKw78d_KeF47vNKqXPcv0jbc9Oe3j6PIX6RDnjIidZmJCtwKCvmALXjdHbs2a3Z6owr/s320/Aura.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Persia White as <a href="https://buffy.fandom.com/wiki/Aura_(Sunnydale)">Lady Aura Bellfleur</a></i></td></tr></tbody></table>Lady Aura is the elder of the Bellfleur twins; they are the last of their family, but Aura's determined to make sure their line continues. They originally reside at the the court of a French princess, until circumstances change and Aura decides they need to leave.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzeC1J7_J80svqIggliZdVssEK_B_AOr9uGBw54LlQ6r8whWQpDoEPw6esyNUNvnGVQ6ZzkcoIxMU2sSlvVG5HV_bLVzSE9KsGl1JqjOKJ96Uaw4iuRlrclcx104pMjLQFF3wtFcumq0AbDv4Ij8WjSW3qtUU9cdNOgc8WYOex8axBboKwvzLELKqSoAvR/s797/agnes_bellfleur.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="797" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzeC1J7_J80svqIggliZdVssEK_B_AOr9uGBw54LlQ6r8whWQpDoEPw6esyNUNvnGVQ6ZzkcoIxMU2sSlvVG5HV_bLVzSE9KsGl1JqjOKJ96Uaw4iuRlrclcx104pMjLQFF3wtFcumq0AbDv4Ij8WjSW3qtUU9cdNOgc8WYOex8axBboKwvzLELKqSoAvR/s320/agnes_bellfleur.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Persia White as <a href="https://buffy.fandom.com/wiki/Agnes_Bellfleur">Lady Agnes Bellfleur</a></i></td></tr></tbody></table>Unlike her perfectly normal twin, Lady Agnes is cursed with the Sight. And though she's initially accepted as an eccentric, whispers soon abound that she's a witch.<span><a name='more'></a></span><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjTL518GG-StNoAD9oOC3v5_W-w8Zv6N_OlXdMmjLi4rovE0DTf6vm41SWemwsXOHxZDTOWCcj_k5CD2WtyUKUdqwuABYMFaU3CJQ-fXtw_afUrJtxvJaij7_HIheJ-jX6OXxzbUf2yQxnAY5zwiQjyLf7AwGZZa7VewfHWV1H1gRdhhZZ-dZDVKBpLeU/s611/olivia_williams.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="611" data-original-width="375" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjTL518GG-StNoAD9oOC3v5_W-w8Zv6N_OlXdMmjLi4rovE0DTf6vm41SWemwsXOHxZDTOWCcj_k5CD2WtyUKUdqwuABYMFaU3CJQ-fXtw_afUrJtxvJaij7_HIheJ-jX6OXxzbUf2yQxnAY5zwiQjyLf7AwGZZa7VewfHWV1H1gRdhhZZ-dZDVKBpLeU/w245-h400/olivia_williams.png" width="245" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Phina Oruche as <a href="https://buffy.fandom.com/wiki/Olivia_Williams">Lady Olivia Williams</a></i></td></tr></tbody></table>Lady Olivia is a widow and cousin to the Bellfleur sisters. She takes them in when they arrive in Sunny Vale. After inheriting all her husband's considerable land and money, Olivia is in no hurry to remarry.<div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho38KNwtY0SltHGw3XlagFmiXvsoxEkseNIS_j9bmZBj-iMpzQN_EbhA81oks3hlFYhiRmnKnsCOemWG3S_E8O6NkYSamGLJHzneAPXg2GdBuQcXdDruz50q4tvQsxXqb2g6fexjdAdbZMQTAIPnM4f49Nb9gLF-LP_-9BL1gwy4B5Q-ga9yLgcnvneg2O/s1424/cordelia_chase.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1424" data-original-width="856" height="383" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho38KNwtY0SltHGw3XlagFmiXvsoxEkseNIS_j9bmZBj-iMpzQN_EbhA81oks3hlFYhiRmnKnsCOemWG3S_E8O6NkYSamGLJHzneAPXg2GdBuQcXdDruz50q4tvQsxXqb2g6fexjdAdbZMQTAIPnM4f49Nb9gLF-LP_-9BL1gwy4B5Q-ga9yLgcnvneg2O/w230-h383/cordelia_chase.jpg" width="230" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Charisma Carpenter as <br />Cordelia of Sunny Vale</i></td></tr></tbody></table>And here's where I got the idea for this story. I was watching <a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3iO1RKxrqbbgj5qVyRxjIKnxC6piSxaN">a reaction</a> to Season 1 of <i>Angel</i>, and I noticed how Cordelia kept bringing up her Sunnydale history. And I was like..., "Nobody cares about Sunnydale, boo. They can't point it out on a map. They've probably never even heard of it."<div><br /></div><div>So I thought...what if there was a not-quite-noblewoman who wouldn't shut up about her inconsequential small town? Except in this case, it is consequential to the Bellfleur sisters because it's rumored to be fairly "liberal" in its attitude towards the mystical.<br /><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq32AodpnxzSdylvpHofhGoCM_lK-lIFyCLpGfK1-4I6NHrrsdEQQes1t6rg5v_LGL1UKIC7jGKEhjNSOQa1CE0Hpfz_ePY2AUEejQCHBS_RQqJGV4lSmyZ1fM-ZrJhhFu-KQHMVJylgInBpqBQAEM00GLG7w8BAGGF_G4k2_NIwtfxfY-U0zk7-ltiA1k/s365/william.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="365" data-original-width="245" height="357" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq32AodpnxzSdylvpHofhGoCM_lK-lIFyCLpGfK1-4I6NHrrsdEQQes1t6rg5v_LGL1UKIC7jGKEhjNSOQa1CE0Hpfz_ePY2AUEejQCHBS_RQqJGV4lSmyZ1fM-ZrJhhFu-KQHMVJylgInBpqBQAEM00GLG7w8BAGGF_G4k2_NIwtfxfY-U0zk7-ltiA1k/w240-h357/william.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>James Marsters as Sir William</i></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div>A baronet of Sunny Vale, Sir William is infamous for his dreadful poetry. He's a genuinely nice guy though.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilY7CADIfiesdeQulMzOhMSVWxxxEAvb-DeGntx4wHIwwHJZkHRdwhbeRC4ioDg8iSp0Xro63ipgtJtDaySfH0K3iZ5xqNi4pIg7H9yeCgQMIhDDD-vCbMVUVDkwrPj4Ea4qy50spSLALVgb46Waar-mHK-s2DJti8IfG1lgpBvXAGoCxQwXjp32j7iObT/s1152/cecily.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="758" data-original-width="1152" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilY7CADIfiesdeQulMzOhMSVWxxxEAvb-DeGntx4wHIwwHJZkHRdwhbeRC4ioDg8iSp0Xro63ipgtJtDaySfH0K3iZ5xqNi4pIg7H9yeCgQMIhDDD-vCbMVUVDkwrPj4Ea4qy50spSLALVgb46Waar-mHK-s2DJti8IfG1lgpBvXAGoCxQwXjp32j7iObT/w349-h230/cecily.png" width="349" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Kali Rocha as Cecilia of Sunny Vale</i></td></tr></tbody></table>Cecilia is the unenthusiastic betrothed of Sir William...and the muse of all his poems. Cecilia is allegedly from Sunny Vale, born and raised, but she's an orphan and no one remembers ever meeting her family. She's also rich, but no one knows why or how, seeing as she doesn't own any property.<div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghL6nOfzT3Lyum6giWjnTq2aPZpvEqF1t8a6cAsthFXSD0lMHyCZ_pL6-RQCcbGx4OBF6pAdtY-AMVfO793HGYb9Ygac2goC_yr0_PeRIGf34dL3XDl-49UJ2OvCIaI6xPJt8EtOAMHvhdcG8pYzjvgdcFklRjXMERrxrlmul9nN0Z_aiJ7c2cQSYS_4jM/s500/wesley_wyndam_pryce.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="355" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghL6nOfzT3Lyum6giWjnTq2aPZpvEqF1t8a6cAsthFXSD0lMHyCZ_pL6-RQCcbGx4OBF6pAdtY-AMVfO793HGYb9Ygac2goC_yr0_PeRIGf34dL3XDl-49UJ2OvCIaI6xPJt8EtOAMHvhdcG8pYzjvgdcFklRjXMERrxrlmul9nN0Z_aiJ7c2cQSYS_4jM/w238-h336/wesley_wyndam_pryce.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Alexis Denisof as Lord Wesley Wyndam-Pryce</i></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div>The son of a cranky old baron who often travels, Wesley stays behind in Sunny Vale to manage his family's estate. He's a perfectly eligible bachelor, but like Sir William, the girls just aren't feeling him.</div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSYk5RtN223wjooE3XS0DYqQvhoZX7vCKNjQm6idjf0Y06OMVmBjnWOAp5R_oKDlAIK1cKS1fG3glGfDDD1RPc1DcBk-tfNOCrzizDN_2CX3ZshMGDVAUJS0bzwogxk_aInYyALRO8Too13tS-HyNZcnSxRxT8jaRbU9BM81XqP9tSMszSXmBZQ9DH51zE/s709/rupert_giles.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="709" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSYk5RtN223wjooE3XS0DYqQvhoZX7vCKNjQm6idjf0Y06OMVmBjnWOAp5R_oKDlAIK1cKS1fG3glGfDDD1RPc1DcBk-tfNOCrzizDN_2CX3ZshMGDVAUJS0bzwogxk_aInYyALRO8Too13tS-HyNZcnSxRxT8jaRbU9BM81XqP9tSMszSXmBZQ9DH51zE/s320/rupert_giles.jpg" width="255" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Anthony Steward Head as Sir Rupert Giles</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div>Famed scholar and swordsman, he's Lord Wesley's former tutor and now adviser. He's also extremely knowledgeable about the occult, but prefers to keep that under wraps even though the town of Sunny Vale is no stranger to the unusual.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT2GEDgTDpKK6IDDS4gbqsbMpzF9Cj8Kc-nazaCoo4aD8OHs0PmIOM67GvYqBjmPOrZO2aHW4ur8ZI4mWY80oWkRciXSKLRSHDXAaTvaI9GYkT99RJgrx7Pc0tcYC6Z3H4bPcON8F8AaTGoVQlwBgD3Ue91-42OH4DvCXoQmmp8Bm0pxtaM-xdONQ9OFLU/s628/janna.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="452" height="357" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT2GEDgTDpKK6IDDS4gbqsbMpzF9Cj8Kc-nazaCoo4aD8OHs0PmIOM67GvYqBjmPOrZO2aHW4ur8ZI4mWY80oWkRciXSKLRSHDXAaTvaI9GYkT99RJgrx7Pc0tcYC6Z3H4bPcON8F8AaTGoVQlwBgD3Ue91-42OH4DvCXoQmmp8Bm0pxtaM-xdONQ9OFLU/w257-h357/janna.png" width="257" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Robia LaMorte as Lady Janna Giles</i></td></tr></tbody></table>Lady Janna is Rupert's wife. Descended from the wealthy Kalderash Clan, she's converted to Catholicism in attempt to assimilate into Sunny Vale society better. Like her husband, she's well versed in the occult, but chooses to leave that life behind her.*<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5G8ooZWuu_LEsKo_pvaYUQJEYhVJwEF6HyOS-CsILhLFoKv9MBDCM3OsrExIs6w1y0q302o46BnKaK6VzTiZWh77rnp4bHartHYt7JppzPci5Ojvd2mf7ARmbFVpew-D6hBlAf2CsjiR7tJ2iqBuSZZ42eh4Hj0crII553E3j8IYZR9oA14AOU_Vx4l0F/s697/willow.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="697" data-original-width="615" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5G8ooZWuu_LEsKo_pvaYUQJEYhVJwEF6HyOS-CsILhLFoKv9MBDCM3OsrExIs6w1y0q302o46BnKaK6VzTiZWh77rnp4bHartHYt7JppzPci5Ojvd2mf7ARmbFVpew-D6hBlAf2CsjiR7tJ2iqBuSZZ42eh4Hj0crII553E3j8IYZR9oA14AOU_Vx4l0F/s320/willow.png" width="282" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Alyson Hannigan as Willow</i></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div>A mysterious enchantress posing as a courtesan. She's currently staying with Wesley, but their "relationship" is mainly for show.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5wkdsN6eP7Ag9KOn_1dh0BewIQhiVhTLmO_KGURniFRc4VNb1UIiiKny2hhq5m4uk3uYIm3AU1UDA1nwuGMxlv4Sru8QUmJR5Ti2BRw3I9szdcL10ZYdHmYRfx9g6dxiwmmyojJ9p4Th1DJP86Sgy2Ocl3AqG-mvzttpQkfI-opslC4_4U2tp5dF7FQoY/s663/drusilla.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="663" data-original-width="568" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5wkdsN6eP7Ag9KOn_1dh0BewIQhiVhTLmO_KGURniFRc4VNb1UIiiKny2hhq5m4uk3uYIm3AU1UDA1nwuGMxlv4Sru8QUmJR5Ti2BRw3I9szdcL10ZYdHmYRfx9g6dxiwmmyojJ9p4Th1DJP86Sgy2Ocl3AqG-mvzttpQkfI-opslC4_4U2tp5dF7FQoY/s320/drusilla.png" width="274" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Juliet Landau as Drusilla</i></td></tr></tbody></table>A mysterious acquaintance of Willow's, Drusilla arrives in Sunny Vale where she's introduced as an Italian noblewoman. She soon catches the eye of Sir William, who quickly notices that he only ever sees her at night. (Note: she's not a mad seer in this version. We already have a seer.)</div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjCrm9soZsReQIGSbiFuXQCmuaUzKqPsYEVUYU2_NF5Koj4cwTeilw7Ik40AqJ62vSa8RlQKuMaA8u8c-1WIrz9M0OZcc6PGN-Oi-TnXkjI42_GTU7X8z2moiDKx51XgeF8A8koAhcvA-vHoQ1g0c_SzDwDKHkVEg_IpdIhH_Ta25TcG0l_wSmCZzTUxol/s674/kendra_young.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="674" data-original-width="456" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjCrm9soZsReQIGSbiFuXQCmuaUzKqPsYEVUYU2_NF5Koj4cwTeilw7Ik40AqJ62vSa8RlQKuMaA8u8c-1WIrz9M0OZcc6PGN-Oi-TnXkjI42_GTU7X8z2moiDKx51XgeF8A8koAhcvA-vHoQ1g0c_SzDwDKHkVEg_IpdIhH_Ta25TcG0l_wSmCZzTUxol/w237-h350/kendra_young.png" width="237" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Bianca Lawson as Lady Kendra Young</i></td></tr></tbody></table>Lady Kendra arrives in Sunny Vale after the Bellfleur sisters. Her presence surprises people, seeing as she's an heiress with no connection to the town.</div><div><br /></div><div><div><u>Special Appearances</u></div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj3hszhAzQXm1IT3roVrByUWM7IAMzkfowMKX_gU06so1NcFEczKjeJPPAoDExXYbB8KF9Gej8TkcVoSnV5C854y3lmQoL05TGwfPsVF8-sgoF2IDK0ziVz7CnOA8DN8zZH8BuiMFQPA_PeG5GFsC3rGwSzc6ZjEi5rCBpViLWau0UGoCzzNFHTeXv9Lcg/s1080/anne_buffington.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj3hszhAzQXm1IT3roVrByUWM7IAMzkfowMKX_gU06so1NcFEczKjeJPPAoDExXYbB8KF9Gej8TkcVoSnV5C854y3lmQoL05TGwfPsVF8-sgoF2IDK0ziVz7CnOA8DN8zZH8BuiMFQPA_PeG5GFsC3rGwSzc6ZjEi5rCBpViLWau0UGoCzzNFHTeXv9Lcg/s320/anne_buffington.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sarah Michelle Gellar as Lady Anne Buffington</i></td></tr></tbody></table>The spoiled, bubbly heir to Summers County, Lady Anne is known for her wild parties.</div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnN8DqkKIh8gkVg0Ql5kGpvzK9mSNIRp-hWlQqDJEncRA_LNWM1ZEqwrN44pIsXyCy_0jNYCh1aPqfBzH8i3AofQMDcozo0B9Az7Q2u0LXlXQbOjFXardfvSXviscoqVHIPoezgcDCRkBgqcGtBjOJtExHvDU65DSym4jGJO_x3-WGQTz_gP7y2mlCrYbS/s597/alexander_harris.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="597" data-original-width="485" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnN8DqkKIh8gkVg0Ql5kGpvzK9mSNIRp-hWlQqDJEncRA_LNWM1ZEqwrN44pIsXyCy_0jNYCh1aPqfBzH8i3AofQMDcozo0B9Az7Q2u0LXlXQbOjFXardfvSXviscoqVHIPoezgcDCRkBgqcGtBjOJtExHvDU65DSym4jGJO_x3-WGQTz_gP7y2mlCrYbS/s320/alexander_harris.jpg" width="260" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Nicholas Brendon as Alexander Harris</i></td></tr></tbody></table>An ambitious distant cousin of Lady Anne's, as well as her betrothed. She tries--and fails--to pretend he doesn't exist.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB_zPL-X0dy382P_f9qzCFWhg20JgrvLWVM2VM3q8a2zygIP3WZ_Cupf6RRoNRCQ8cqPkcTNr3wck7-HChrjBXKoTzGTjZtcZ1NKZqyxqJjWrIzoKiLonCu8yhEcRIDSaHDxr39eXjBb_gQlFCXjUwL1zZs5nvhDiDnTmOW6I7XMQVq7PGyJ0U2KzhxvGS/s450/liam.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="338" data-original-width="450" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB_zPL-X0dy382P_f9qzCFWhg20JgrvLWVM2VM3q8a2zygIP3WZ_Cupf6RRoNRCQ8cqPkcTNr3wck7-HChrjBXKoTzGTjZtcZ1NKZqyxqJjWrIzoKiLonCu8yhEcRIDSaHDxr39eXjBb_gQlFCXjUwL1zZs5nvhDiDnTmOW6I7XMQVq7PGyJ0U2KzhxvGS/w340-h255/liam.jpg" width="340" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>David Boreanaz as Mister Liam</i></td></tr></tbody></table>The bored son of a wealthy Irish silk merchant, Liam winds up in Sunny Vale just looking for a good time. He's also an amateur bard and life of the party.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3MArw1tCzVxF2JnecEFB6038oTgBn4e-RiQnc2f9Swv5UtDmoLxhQHiZiBvReSpI6UmpPJTVjpTBLSEWvrDJZpbYLkoYmtDRjciYv0Gqh5D8aNgmzxbqJbkLdj8NF0ODoI8CeQL9unrVz_nX1L2bjAPsrBsVaJZrcMu8VSa6dGBU9sr2W3mCXdqFBFwZB/s349/harmony_kendall.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="349" data-original-width="244" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3MArw1tCzVxF2JnecEFB6038oTgBn4e-RiQnc2f9Swv5UtDmoLxhQHiZiBvReSpI6UmpPJTVjpTBLSEWvrDJZpbYLkoYmtDRjciYv0Gqh5D8aNgmzxbqJbkLdj8NF0ODoI8CeQL9unrVz_nX1L2bjAPsrBsVaJZrcMu8VSa6dGBU9sr2W3mCXdqFBFwZB/w254-h362/harmony_kendall.png" width="254" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Mercedes McNab as Princess Harmonia</i></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div>Lol...Harmonia is the French princess with whom the Bellfleurs and Cordelia lived. She's not the brightest star in the heavens, but she doesn't let that get in the way of her ambitions.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div><div><i>*I opted for this characterization out of respect to Robia LaMorte's real life conversion.</i></div></div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-86075995240803887322023-08-07T16:12:00.000-05:002023-08-07T16:12:06.774-05:00Epilogue: The Girl Returns<p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW1MBS42M9x-YD6Ut8zd2VXpw48l-iMfCgSk3L0Q9mmVnuyFnD7LpdYu-iYSXdfaykuJZ0XcG6klRXoiZZidTfZuSfc16vo7-tpZabWpeDFktsyi3jP2lCv5AysZgmALYCtpcM_u4Oq_9-rtW2ULwp4lXVwJ2_BLO-2Snt3y0E8JEH6Ao1sg5i5eApjSd-/s1187/Elizaveta.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="727" data-original-width="1187" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW1MBS42M9x-YD6Ut8zd2VXpw48l-iMfCgSk3L0Q9mmVnuyFnD7LpdYu-iYSXdfaykuJZ0XcG6klRXoiZZidTfZuSfc16vo7-tpZabWpeDFktsyi3jP2lCv5AysZgmALYCtpcM_u4Oq_9-rtW2ULwp4lXVwJ2_BLO-2Snt3y0E8JEH6Ao1sg5i5eApjSd-/w640-h392/Elizaveta.png" width="640" /></a></div><div><i>Previously: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/08/the-bride.html">The Bride</a></i></div><div><br /></div><div><i><b><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marble_Hill_House">Marble Hill House</a>, one week later</b></i></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Dearest Reader,</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>After a most remarkable wedding, it seems the Count and Countess Mironov are the talk of Mayfair. Whatever dark cloud was hanging over them appears to have finally dissipated, for the newlyweds have begun attending social functions in lieu of a honeymoon, and are even planning their very first ball together. The Count in particular has promised a night of "proper Russian revelry"....</i></div><div><br /></div><div>Cordelia Patridge crumpled Lady Whistledown's scandal sheet and promptly tossed it into the fire.</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div><br /></div><div>While she was grateful for the Queen generously packing her off to one of the royal estates to save face, she still resented how easily life went on without her Mayfair. Even her own mother attended the wedding!</div><div><br /></div><div>Meanwhile, Cordelia busied herself with letters, embroidery, Lady Whistledown, all the while roaming from one impeccable sitting room to another. The Queen had left her under the watchful eye of Viscountess Esther Lowell, and advised her it would be "some time" before she could return to Mayfair.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>After several balls and operas, no doubt</i>, Cordelia scowled, picking up her embroidery and trying very hard not to prick herself in the process.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>It was supposed to be me</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Viscountess often cautioned her not to become discouraged nor bitter by this setback, but then again, what did she know...the aged wench was here while her husband was somewhere else with <i>someone </i>else. And no matter how many times Cordelia reminded herself that she still had her youth and beauty, it didn't chase away that all consuming thought: <i>It was supposed to be me</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>It was supposed to be me at that wedding, saying "I do", and becoming a Countess. Now I have to start all over</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>She wasn't looking forward to the spring season, to having to sift through the usual slim pickings in the desperate hope of even finding an available lord with a proper title and sufficient wealth to even come close to that of the Mironovs.</div><div><br /></div><div>Worked into a deep irritation, Cordelia suddenly slammed her embroidery down and rose to her feet. It was stuffy in here; she need the crisp, cold night air of winter. She needed to clear her head of these venomous thoughts which could only turn her into a bitter shrew.</div><div><br /></div><div>Marble Hill House was decorated in the proper <a href="https://www.yourhomestyle.uk/home-decor/georgian-period-house-style-decor/">Georgian style</a>; Cordelia drifted through rooms and halls of pastel and marble of the second floor. She could hear voices in the main hall as she approached the stairs. She'd hoped to go out back, where she could watch the moonbeams fall upon the River Thames. Instead, she paused, frozen atop at the rowdy and noticeably <i>manly </i>voices grew louder.</div><div><br /></div><div>"I see the Queen's nephew has returned," the Viscountess Lowell muttered. Cordelia turned to see the graying older woman behind her, only slightly leaning over railing enough to see while still remaining out of sight. The Patridge girl slowly, hesitantly followed suit.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Prince Friedrich?" she blinked, glimpsing the tall blond Prussian.</div><div><br /></div><div>"One and the same," Esther nodded. "God only knows how long they'll be here this time."</div><div><br /></div><div>"And who's the other?" Cordelia's brow furrowed at the Prince's fair-haired companion.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Wieslaw (<i>vyeh-slav</i>) of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cieszyn_Silesia">Cieszyn</a> (c<i>heh-shin</i>)," Esther told her. "He's a Duke of Silesia."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Polish?" Cordelia blinked. She couldn't remember the last time she met a Pole.</div><div><br /></div><div>"And a dreadful influence on His Highness," the Viscountess grumbled. "Hopefully, they'll grow bored as always and go to another of Her Majesty's houses."</div><div><br /></div><div><i>A dreadful influence, you say?</i> Cordelia raised an eyebrow. He had such a sunny smile, this Wieslaw fellow. Though he was clearly drunk, he seemed incapable of any real trouble.</div><div><br /></div><div>"We should retire," Esther said lowly, pulling back from the railing. "If we are lucky, they'll be gone before breakfast."</div><div><br /></div><div><i>And if we are truly fortunate</i>, Cordelia mused, watching the handsome Duke follow the Prince into another room, <i>they will tarry a while longer</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>~ FIN ~</b></i></div><p></p>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-58468055185935356182023-08-07T13:47:00.006-05:002023-08-09T11:24:55.053-05:00The Bride<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJO885t08fQMHs7ywkoNm1DILxeZuf4L6CWfElCoovgiR2XCwTnSeEB9Flp4NtFrz-_VeC6RdBsIi3PSu_AZUAN64F0uHZOW9ZbDkWq3z1fSRqO1aMiK8ksjaFS5ZvPd7tvU3svqw0mcrt7QvZG3N_S2quvTxAbVyD2BGWyA6CPiUrVvPcQi1HCOdmg/s1187/Elizaveta.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="727" data-original-width="1187" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJO885t08fQMHs7ywkoNm1DILxeZuf4L6CWfElCoovgiR2XCwTnSeEB9Flp4NtFrz-_VeC6RdBsIi3PSu_AZUAN64F0uHZOW9ZbDkWq3z1fSRqO1aMiK8ksjaFS5ZvPd7tvU3svqw0mcrt7QvZG3N_S2quvTxAbVyD2BGWyA6CPiUrVvPcQi1HCOdmg/w640-h392/Elizaveta.png" width="640" /></a></div><i>Previously: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/03/the-girl-part-iii.html">The Girl, Part III</a></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"What do you mean our special license has been denied?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Elizabeth Mironova was already at her wit's end; less than a year of being widowed, she was already engaged to a man who was technically, <i>legally </i>her stepson. And she'd had no time to process it, for the next day, after agreeing to marry Adrik, a jeweler arrived to take specifications for her engagement ring. The day after that, Madame Delacroix showed up to take measurements and requests for her wedding gown. Worse still, Allegra and Clementine bombarded her with questions about cakes, decorations, and the number of people being invited.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And all the while, Iakov played piano in the background, stubbornly remaining above the madness.</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Her heart had already been racing for days now as they scurried to throw a hasty wedding together. With each new question, her mind threaten to snap. And now Adrik dared to come home with no license.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"The Archbishop may have intimated this was not the first time," Adrik sighed, slumping into a chair near the fire while his new valet--a young Frenchman whose name Elizabeth could never remember--poured him a brandy. "Apparently, Her Majesty objects."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Elizabeth sank into the chair opposite him, eyes wide with anxiety on the cusp of insanity. Her voice was grating and brittle as she tried not to bellow, "What reason could the Queen <i>possibly </i>have for objecting our wedding?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Iakov finally stopped playing and decided to be useful. "<i>It sounds like the Hastings situation all over again</i>," he shrugged.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The adults turned to him in, demanding in unison, "Hastings?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Mm," he nodded, before starting a new piece, playing softly. "<i>You remember. When she demanded the Duke and Duchess declare their love before her?</i>"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Adrik sighed loudly. "<i>Why would the Queen care if we marry?</i>"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Elizabeth was grim as her gathered her sleeves into a tight grip. "<i>I suppose we have no choice but to ask her</i>."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">There was no tiny, cozy sitting room for them this time. No, this time, Queen Charlotte sat upon regally her throne, glaring down at her awkward guests while an amused Lady Danbury watched from the sidelines.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">She let the silence hang between them for a while as she seemed to size them up, taking her sweet old time before stating, "I hear Cordelia Patridge has suddenly left Mayfair."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Adrik and Elizabeth exchanged confused looks, while the Queen grew impatient.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Well? Speak!" she hissed.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Yes, Your Majesty," Elizabeth began slowly, uncertainly. "We heard the same thing."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Heard?" Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "It was my understanding <i>you </i>sent her away."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I intended for her to visit a spa, Your Majesty," Adrik wearily replied. "But I understand she decided to go...somewhere else."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"And why would <i>you </i>be sending her to a spa, Lord Mironov?" the Queen batted her eyes, feigning ignorance.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I had hoped to spare the girl any undue embarrassment, Your Majesty," he admitted, eyes down.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"So you raised that child's hopes and then dashed them all the moment you changed your mind?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I did not mean to 'raise' anything," Adrik pushed back, finally meeting the Queen's eyes. He shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not familiar with the ways of English courtship, Your Majesty. I merely want to be polite. Mine and the Dowager's situation is...unique."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Charlotte seemed to accept that with a slight nod. She flashed Lady Danbury a brief smirk.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"We are not young," Adrik continued, "but I love this woman more than my own life." His eyes suddenly burned with determination. "I have waited many, many years for this opportunity. WE do not want scandal, we do not even want attention. We just want to be married so we can finally live our lives out in peace."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"The two of you clearly love each other," the Queen said lowly, eyes unreadable all of a sudden. "It's obvious to anyone actually paying attention. And I can appreciate the complexity of your situation, and I admire your bravery for finally following through."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Adrik's ears pricked up. "So you will grant our special license?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"On one condition," Charlotte nodded. "That <i>I</i> handle your wedding arrangements."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Adrik looked at Elizabeth, brow furrowed in confusion. "<i>Why is this woman so obsessed with us?</i>" he murmured in Russian.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Elizabeth sighed, shoulders slumping. "<i>Her husband is mad, her marriage is over, and these love matches provide her solace</i>," she explained, desperate for all this to be over.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Adrik's head rose and fell. "Ah." He turned back to the Queen. "Accepted, Your Majesty."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Well, well, dearest reader.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>While Miss Patridge enjoys an impromptu excursion to parts unknown, the Dowager Countess Mironov and the new Count Mironov have announced their impending nuptials. Setting their legal familial status aside, is anyone truly surprised?</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Her Majesty has taken a special interest in this most unusual Russian romance and is overseeing the wedding arrangements. Sound familiar? Surely, we all recall her disastrous attempt to wed the Viscount Bridgerton and Miss Edwina Sharma in admittedly grand display of royal splendor.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>She's no doubt made clear to her latest favorites that they must follow through with this wedding...on pain of death</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Elizabeth looked up from the society pages. "The Queen tried this already?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I read that is was a most beautiful affair," Clementine nodded, as she oiled the Dowager's scalp and braided her hair. "Until Edwina ran crying from the altar, that is."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Why?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Because that's when she found out her intended had feelings for her sister."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Dear God</i>, Elizabeth cringed. <i>That could have been us</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So far, things were moving at a good pace, and she was beginning to calm down. Her ring was complete; clear diamonds and white pearls set into gold. Her gown was mostly done, but her bridal <i>kokoshnik</i> was taking the most time. Apparently, Madame Delacroix had to hire help and buy out a jeweler's entire stock of pearls.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The Queen had invited only her favorite members of the ton; the wealthiest and most esteemed dukes, duchesses, earls, countesses, and a sprinkling of viscountess and viscountesses. But that wasn't even the craziest part; she'd also hired a choir to sing some hymns in Russian.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Elizabeth should've been a nervous wreck, but she was calmer still; she was finally having the wedding she wanted, to the man she wanted, and in proper royal style.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I'm getting a fairy tale ending</i>, she blinked in disbelief. Widowed, five years away from forty, and she was finally getting the dream wedding she'd wanted since girlhood. How had she gone from the unluckiest daughter in her family to the most blessed?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>***</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">"<i>You're in a good mood</i>,"<i> </i>Iakov smiled at his foster father, as they were fitted for their suits.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"<i>And you haven't been</i>," Adrik pointed out. "<i>I wanted to give you time to speak with me about it, but at this rate, you'll take it to your grave</i>."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Iakov paused before admitting, "<i>Mary Anne Hallewell doesn't want to move to Russian someday. I think she was only willing to go if you married Cordelia.</i>"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Adrik sighed somberly. "<i>To be honest, I'm not surprised</i>." He paused, briefly looking his heir over. "<i>You are all right</i>?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I will be," Iakov nodded. "<i>At least now I know getting married is not so bad. And next time, I can court a real Saka girl</i>."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Adrik laughed at how quickly the young man was to move on.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"<i>This trip to England was not so bad, I suppose</i>," the younger man shrugged. "<i>I didn't think I could learn anything of import down here, and yet I have</i>."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Adrik laughed again. The sound of his own mirth was unfamiliar to him, as was this feeling of joyous calm and optimism.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"<i>You and me both</i>," he admitted with a nod. "<i>You and me both</i>."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XevIGY0oPJQ?start=2033" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">They married in the early hours of the morning at the royal chapel, where the Queen had outdone herself transforming it into a winter-inspired wonderland. Almost everything was white, the pews adorned with white silk, the choir garbed in white robes, the Queen herself in a magnificent white gown diamonds, and a giant white wig to match.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Most of the attendees (whom the couple didn't even know) also wore white.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The bride herself wore a long white sarafan made of velvet. Her matching bridal <i>kokoshnik </i>had strings of pearls reaching all the way down to her waist--the longest she'd ever had them--and onlookers gasped and murmured as she walked down the aisle.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The choir sang "<i>Voskreseniye Khristovo videvshe</i> (Having Beheld the Resurrection of Christ)" as Elizabeth slowly approached the altar. It was a thunderous, thoroughly dramatic song, and not at all what she would've chosen for her wedding. But she was getting married on the royal coin and after what she'd heard about the Queen's track matchmaking record, she really wasn't in any position to argue.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Adrik beamed as Elizabeth came down the aisle. He stood in a resplendently tailored black suit that greatly flattered his build. And though Iakov stood as his best man, Elizabeth had no bridesmaids nor maid of honor, and she was fine with that. As far as she was concerned, most of these people were strangers and weren't even supposed to be here anyway.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The wedding passed as though in a dream, and once the couple was pronounced married, the the whole church breathed a sigh of relief.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Wow</i>, Elizabeth blinked. <i>That last wedding must have been a serious disaster</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Upon hearing she was now his wife, Adrik looked upon her lovingly, openly now. It was in stark contrast to the forbidden stares that had burned in his eyes all these years. Instead, he was now fond, looking forward to a quiet life together, as though a heavy weight had lifted from his shoulders.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">She could feel it too, as though the past two decades melted away into a bad dream and all that was left was the bright future ahead. They shared a chaste, simple kiss, and that brief peck outdid all that came before it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"<i>Let's go home</i>," Adrik murmured, and it was the most romantic thing she'd ever heard.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"<i>After the reception</i>," she teasingly reminded him. "<i>The Queen will want to savor this triumph</i>."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Next: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/08/epilogue-girl-returns.html">The Girl Returns</a></i></div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-33915231536675517232023-07-18T00:49:00.005-05:002023-07-19T00:22:16.924-05:00We Need a Wolfram & Hart TV Series<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNNptzLhgTXI4obag4BG6Sv9g9gQI95y5py-BuAgrHimK7_9fkaMToQ1-k-wegBBzlv78QjPPOrLGLdaXL_vc9zyuTyS9529QwH2Bgs2oKmz8qKhotkCHdFq3bBXE63bvK0KVFeLseImgYZjSRWSJjzWcEs_y4WXje6Gc7LPIfz_PJRX8V_hx9lkCI0j5z/s1600/wolfram_and_hart.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="815" data-original-width="1600" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNNptzLhgTXI4obag4BG6Sv9g9gQI95y5py-BuAgrHimK7_9fkaMToQ1-k-wegBBzlv78QjPPOrLGLdaXL_vc9zyuTyS9529QwH2Bgs2oKmz8qKhotkCHdFq3bBXE63bvK0KVFeLseImgYZjSRWSJjzWcEs_y4WXje6Gc7LPIfz_PJRX8V_hx9lkCI0j5z/w640-h326/wolfram_and_hart.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So I'm rewatching <i>Leverage</i> and suddenly thinking...we need a <a href="https://buffy.fandom.com/wiki/Wolfram_%26_Hart">Wolfram & Hart</a> series.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Hear me out.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It could be dark, moody, introspective, with a nuanced focus on lawyers from the mortal world navigating the demonic world. So instead of the campy, kooky humor we saw back in the early aughts, we'd have a more melancholic atmosphere. I also think it would be cool if we never saw a demon onscreen on or any special effects, you know?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I just feel like <i>Angel </i>never got the acclaim it truly deserved and a lot of the actors fell by the wayside...which <i>they </i>didn't deserve. In the age of reboots and remakes, this would be a project that actually deserves a second chance.</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk40Z_M3m8kSUhWROOmngdUQjcFYVdZnR6ZOnVomtHaTlwP6aKzGdSM77YaIl37tnCWDCf_uAKGBzayYq_TRoLc3AffNXEdynL-T5KwCgicYNn5UwKhyzYOfnG3JSM4rgpBu7_HTQlgFoAAR477dsoB8x5-gD2Xep-muKfkS2DlQQiMZRLqwiwuu3mFhYD/s568/danielle_nicolet.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="375" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk40Z_M3m8kSUhWROOmngdUQjcFYVdZnR6ZOnVomtHaTlwP6aKzGdSM77YaIl37tnCWDCf_uAKGBzayYq_TRoLc3AffNXEdynL-T5KwCgicYNn5UwKhyzYOfnG3JSM4rgpBu7_HTQlgFoAAR477dsoB8x5-gD2Xep-muKfkS2DlQQiMZRLqwiwuu3mFhYD/s320/danielle_nicolet.PNG" width="211" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">The last (and first) time Danielle Nicolet was in the Buffyverse, she played the vampire <a href="https://buffy.fandom.com/wiki/Tamika">Tamika</a>. She died as soon as she was introduced, but now that she's spent years playing a lawyer on <i>The Flash</i>, I'd love to see her as the head of Wolfram & Hart, possibly based on the East Coast or in Canada this time.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEa0cwdv_RsZHto7Q0CQRLBfqP-EQooeTr5NSj299jJegr_NNLbCOlE6yECgWhy7p5NM9Gb2wOWnD_tvtc9L5_m4Q5qO0CnEg2mcaDmmlEi8znOaObnlUClDNP7Nt2SRHGcvMIa4MBm1a2xkiP440KgQUVCcDnXJjqyCtnCisxeoKzjVIwgf0ADHGV-0hl/s508/christian_kane.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="508" data-original-width="392" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEa0cwdv_RsZHto7Q0CQRLBfqP-EQooeTr5NSj299jJegr_NNLbCOlE6yECgWhy7p5NM9Gb2wOWnD_tvtc9L5_m4Q5qO0CnEg2mcaDmmlEi8znOaObnlUClDNP7Nt2SRHGcvMIa4MBm1a2xkiP440KgQUVCcDnXJjqyCtnCisxeoKzjVIwgf0ADHGV-0hl/s320/christian_kane.PNG" width="247" /></a></div>Every time I rewatch <i>Angel</i>, I think of how much I love <a href="https://buffy.fandom.com/wiki/Lindsey_McDonald">Lindsey McDonald</a>, lol. I don't care. I loved Christian Kane's portrayal of this man, and even though he was featured in three seasons, I felt like we needed more time with him.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I would love to see a much older, more seasoned, even more conflicted Lindsey struggling to decide which side he wants to be on in this cutthroat world. And I'd put him in charge of "Special Projects".</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQRnBVxvJtvJZFH-ApbOmPkO5KeVjddF-JG4DFlAXiNlbTdbSF_sH8wdxTk63-ngK3oVIyZOclR7KSEdwyKCN2two-lOaRx1bAmPV2RMYgir4PeGym0P_FDY5wPoF9rPcMyy-qRJxOzEfJfM256rBZoS8KvwziGdhXnx7y4-GOrR1inod5GOP7mZRpy1WG/s4752/stephanie_romanov.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3168" data-original-width="4752" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQRnBVxvJtvJZFH-ApbOmPkO5KeVjddF-JG4DFlAXiNlbTdbSF_sH8wdxTk63-ngK3oVIyZOclR7KSEdwyKCN2two-lOaRx1bAmPV2RMYgir4PeGym0P_FDY5wPoF9rPcMyy-qRJxOzEfJfM256rBZoS8KvwziGdhXnx7y4-GOrR1inod5GOP7mZRpy1WG/w400-h266/stephanie_romanov.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>My. Favorite. Bitch. Ever.</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Stephanie Romanov did a <i>hell </i>of a job as <a href="https://buffy.fandom.com/wiki/Lilah_Morgan">Lilah Morgan</a>, and outside of the fandom, her praises are not sung nearly enough. I want her back as an older, more seasoned, even more ambitious lawyers who, unlike Lindsey, has zero inner turmoil about who she is and what she does. I'd put her in charge of dealing with politicians. And I need her to bring back that biting wit.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2S5UUiQ4PXiRxSVyAN_N9ldqrb3lgRxm_eLznXy5AtLp3cUHnyIoUm4SPp6-Ol-AuSLOVoXDrPPb8WEhbwk-Y1vpbGFe0cJQFXiNxdRSUpfPvPvIpLv0pDQnpofPyT7SyDICb35_P5YdmZ071cwgJGEUU0xccr5RuTLfPfse2Yrxd3WzRZ6s9uTNCnCA9/s1068/daniel_dae_kim.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="658" data-original-width="1068" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2S5UUiQ4PXiRxSVyAN_N9ldqrb3lgRxm_eLznXy5AtLp3cUHnyIoUm4SPp6-Ol-AuSLOVoXDrPPb8WEhbwk-Y1vpbGFe0cJQFXiNxdRSUpfPvPvIpLv0pDQnpofPyT7SyDICb35_P5YdmZ071cwgJGEUU0xccr5RuTLfPfse2Yrxd3WzRZ6s9uTNCnCA9/w400-h246/daniel_dae_kim.PNG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Speaking of biting wit, I would need Daniel Dae Kim to return as <a href="https://buffy.fandom.com/wiki/Gavin_Park">Gavin Park</a>. But this time, instead of the tired, emasculate-the-Asian-guy trope, he'd be even more sarcastic and ruthless. I think he should also stay in real estate, handling only the most luxurious and exclusive properties that even his colleagues can't get into. Despite all the lawyers having good taste, Gavin always struck me as being the most bougie. I'd love to see him as the best dressed lawyer, with the most expensive suits.</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5sWd-2DNXrzwOoLwOa4rMqgx7S_H1prm_zruELI_kiAwCGEn8HSzwjusS50NFyvF_irAN9jb4Y-oDVriCp0DB193U8d0CFTih9dB6H0hchwSQOX0EnvGISe4301Z05Q1bDJPu3a8UJhspWe5u7UT-gQsfm-mqBxeZGstCXkLhVvLwOuHAStdlflQhQyQ/s2216/thomas_burr.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2216" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5sWd-2DNXrzwOoLwOa4rMqgx7S_H1prm_zruELI_kiAwCGEn8HSzwjusS50NFyvF_irAN9jb4Y-oDVriCp0DB193U8d0CFTih9dB6H0hchwSQOX0EnvGISe4301Z05Q1bDJPu3a8UJhspWe5u7UT-gQsfm-mqBxeZGstCXkLhVvLwOuHAStdlflQhQyQ/s320/thomas_burr.jpg" width="231" /></a></div>I don't know what happened to actor Thomas Burr, but if he's still alive, I'd like for him to return as <a href="https://buffy.fandom.com/wiki/Lee_Mercer">Lee Mercer</a>, the bitchy lawyer who looks down on everyone and thinks working at Wolfram & Hart is beneath him. We didn't get nearly enough time with him before he was killed off in Season One. In the reboot, he should be head of contracts.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIFcfHf5c3MKFNfa6NCwiAzwqxB9-lgPGavUWD5hGMGZb5JqorccJGPFX7FpW-VhP-G36dATNvXttGAxTjenCiVuu0FNfHZ8euj86mDYPUoRw1-hSAtI7AHmMAqs2lJwozNvdrWTKktwM_c661eJyZTtaRsm8sVTfFMyEKFFyaC-IcCFAzDcP7lA9jhwjb/s2108/eliza_dushku.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2108" data-original-width="1419" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIFcfHf5c3MKFNfa6NCwiAzwqxB9-lgPGavUWD5hGMGZb5JqorccJGPFX7FpW-VhP-G36dATNvXttGAxTjenCiVuu0FNfHZ8euj86mDYPUoRw1-hSAtI7AHmMAqs2lJwozNvdrWTKktwM_c661eJyZTtaRsm8sVTfFMyEKFFyaC-IcCFAzDcP7lA9jhwjb/s320/eliza_dushku.jpg" width="215" /></a></div>As much as I loved <a href="https://buffy.fandom.com/wiki/Faith_Lehane">Faith the Vampire Slayer</a>, I would like to see Eliza Dushku return as a new character, preferably an Albanian freelancer who refuses to speak English just because she doesn't like it. She could be a stone-faced contractor who gathers intel and breaks kneecaps or some such. And she could have a cool name like Luljeta or Valmira.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh, and last but not least...<a href="https://www.instagram.com/callmealiceband/">Call Me Alice</a> should do the theme song:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/YLc-XFf6QIM" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-14020121740782540402023-07-05T00:19:00.001-05:002023-07-05T00:19:33.758-05:00The Widow Velethi<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR4fYkX6vkc3wfN1N6iLbjAGQc7daPjH9LvOFdlto1HX0aBlI4ddVC8SnBLaywyqp8e-_PetxTqiHDY_dZ2tIinrGQ7LFPBKEJEmx9o8bkxwbo1_VOWvoLoJFDAo4W2WSKmpYYESsCsOc/s1600/velethi_banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="664" data-original-width="1273" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR4fYkX6vkc3wfN1N6iLbjAGQc7daPjH9LvOFdlto1HX0aBlI4ddVC8SnBLaywyqp8e-_PetxTqiHDY_dZ2tIinrGQ7LFPBKEJEmx9o8bkxwbo1_VOWvoLoJFDAo4W2WSKmpYYESsCsOc/s640/velethi_banner.png" width="640" /></a></div><br />
I'm happy to announced I've brought back a revamped version of the <i>The Widow Velethi</i> on my <a href="https://www.redguardgirls.club/2023/07/the-widow-velethi.html">Redguard Girls</a> blog. A fanfiction set in the <i><a href="http://elderscrolls.wikia.com/wiki/Skyrim">Skyrim</a></i> universe during the Civil War, the story follows a Redguard by the name of Katarinya, whose arrival at Mistveil Keep exacerbates the rivalry between two brothers.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<u>Original Character</u><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDHb4q2Tc9T59jR6iF_DlY3BV1-x9uHv4tDcvQAjTor3hKp5JDLfxid6OSU5G1UnS_3EmnIIQWriMyldSgxfxvKkpO49HVuZ8q05pWpxTR8us1-9_cy6_DyfioWbnyf9lXHWL4a8Bs-Mk/s1600/ScreenShot2121.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDHb4q2Tc9T59jR6iF_DlY3BV1-x9uHv4tDcvQAjTor3hKp5JDLfxid6OSU5G1UnS_3EmnIIQWriMyldSgxfxvKkpO49HVuZ8q05pWpxTR8us1-9_cy6_DyfioWbnyf9lXHWL4a8Bs-Mk/s400/ScreenShot2121.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Click any image to enlarge</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Katarinya of House Velethi arrives in Riften from Raven Rock, where her late husband owned an ebony mine. A wealthy widow, she's invited to stay at Mistveil Keep.<br />
<br />
<u>Canon Characters</u><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSLEiCegwH5N9OERZzpX-vb6LTVgqRNmYW-qJo1zejoHQAktUrubVqdHLMGmlgXodX-MBfsQLN3ydeN-0etuEs8CPehc59NK14ql-Kz2eDjtpZW2f4cQe5y3r5LvlhkbuO1rI5Sseth74/s1600/Saerlund.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSLEiCegwH5N9OERZzpX-vb6LTVgqRNmYW-qJo1zejoHQAktUrubVqdHLMGmlgXodX-MBfsQLN3ydeN-0etuEs8CPehc59NK14ql-Kz2eDjtpZW2f4cQe5y3r5LvlhkbuO1rI5Sseth74/s400/Saerlund.png" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<a href="http://elderscrolls.wikia.com/wiki/Saerlund">Saerlund Law-Giver</a> is the second-born son of the Jarl of Riften. He supports the Empire in the Civil War.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghIad3Z9NzYlOshT32N6UhaFLqHHUwZ9rKSlyG4BTGlNMt6Ee0fdn1Ryok7QU8D1O2ZdKthjFIGFStnzQp1Sr3gRzVWllM_Drt2zeXe_6ZXc10nEyaURpUQ_hU6MuejGXeQFh_xWx6VCE/s1600/Harrald_Law-Giver.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="670" data-original-width="360" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghIad3Z9NzYlOshT32N6UhaFLqHHUwZ9rKSlyG4BTGlNMt6Ee0fdn1Ryok7QU8D1O2ZdKthjFIGFStnzQp1Sr3gRzVWllM_Drt2zeXe_6ZXc10nEyaURpUQ_hU6MuejGXeQFh_xWx6VCE/s400/Harrald_Law-Giver.png" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<a href="http://elderscrolls.wikia.com/wiki/Harrald">Harrald Law-Giver</a> is the firstborn son of the Jarl and the heir to her throne. He is a patriotric Nord who supports the Stormcloak Rebellion.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqtUZycq0tDaMR9Aq85JfqTO9ERZWquTTSCZ4_sc75DtXuIRXG0ZPVz0agORhf6bZYnk_Q0Afgj63OOT5ecFRre1Ap9oR9udXIaJGe3ruzYGSD1tEqj5enbi4oR47-Zsg22-Y37CtlebU/s1600/Laila_Law-Giver.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqtUZycq0tDaMR9Aq85JfqTO9ERZWquTTSCZ4_sc75DtXuIRXG0ZPVz0agORhf6bZYnk_Q0Afgj63OOT5ecFRre1Ap9oR9udXIaJGe3ruzYGSD1tEqj5enbi4oR47-Zsg22-Y37CtlebU/s400/Laila_Law-Giver.png" width="221" /></a></div><br />
<a href="http://elderscrolls.wikia.com/wiki/Laila_Law-Giver">Laila Law-Giver</a> is the Jarl of Riften who rules from Mistveil Keep. Like her eldest son, she supports the Stormcloaks.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4wQVy61Yx6B_v88B12vWGUzx_cLl3P-LrezFiykoy2f401zydRZAs07wCuSHMgscvUU_-4wqP-H-oyPY6cWT2zh3Z1kbrriF7bYss2oClaDMTCT-p7-Fqs7tfkXzX80qw19wikZPnCI/s1600/Anuriel.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4wQVy61Yx6B_v88B12vWGUzx_cLl3P-LrezFiykoy2f401zydRZAs07wCuSHMgscvUU_-4wqP-H-oyPY6cWT2zh3Z1kbrriF7bYss2oClaDMTCT-p7-Fqs7tfkXzX80qw19wikZPnCI/s400/Anuriel.png" width="221" /></a></div><br />
<a href="http://elderscrolls.wikia.com/wiki/Anuriel">Anuriel</a> is Laila's Steward. She's a Wood Elf who runs the day to day operations of the Keep.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhulwKAAdJvH4r-Dwr5JLJQCHkBrpsU1Vu_rI_bXNCPJJUs-BgdPVT1ptclbSMcIPqIqsRj_4v6EZqeHM5YZZPW_JGMKnWe5ihge6pj9pdonL3y9aCQIqGY81yZ4ffw_DXMuwiCtx-_f3g/s1600/Maven.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="576" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhulwKAAdJvH4r-Dwr5JLJQCHkBrpsU1Vu_rI_bXNCPJJUs-BgdPVT1ptclbSMcIPqIqsRj_4v6EZqeHM5YZZPW_JGMKnWe5ihge6pj9pdonL3y9aCQIqGY81yZ4ffw_DXMuwiCtx-_f3g/s400/Maven.png" width="212" /></a></div><br />
<a href="http://elderscrolls.wikia.com/wiki/Maven_Black-Briar">Maven Black-Briar</a> is the powerful matriarch of the wealthiest family in Riften, with ties to assassins and thieves. She's a frequent visitor at Mistveil.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_4VU0CJXEAfupeU4DPAJB3pvIR_8TO1lbcalz47H0t61OLu_hdLrxTlReqj2MqiIF1OV0gBsRABiBIESUhIBlFfk3raUrvWpeLIponlgMf_AsYdJRxtPE381GdbMSbdf0No4Ru4z8cPw/s1600/Ingun.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="577" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_4VU0CJXEAfupeU4DPAJB3pvIR_8TO1lbcalz47H0t61OLu_hdLrxTlReqj2MqiIF1OV0gBsRABiBIESUhIBlFfk3raUrvWpeLIponlgMf_AsYdJRxtPE381GdbMSbdf0No4Ru4z8cPw/s400/Ingun.png" width="212" /></a></div><br />
<a href="http://elderscrolls.wikia.com/wiki/Ingun_Black-Briar">Ingun Black-Briar</a> is Maven's daughter. She's a talented, if morbid, student of alchemy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBvFJSurScFH4vQqkiG2c_uBXC3lVt-5jnD3JDPvh5obEfaMeNcp32Ly7ek8Sgs0tbaqC_M3wT7mdY-m-B7TcYVIgfAxkHLDJnERpR0yK9U29mFB93kkmL7ojfecvlYmOIcN_BJVk18PI/s1600/Wylandriah.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBvFJSurScFH4vQqkiG2c_uBXC3lVt-5jnD3JDPvh5obEfaMeNcp32Ly7ek8Sgs0tbaqC_M3wT7mdY-m-B7TcYVIgfAxkHLDJnERpR0yK9U29mFB93kkmL7ojfecvlYmOIcN_BJVk18PI/s400/Wylandriah.png" width="221" /></a></div><br />
<a href="http://elderscrolls.wikia.com/wiki/Wylandriah">Wylandriah</a> is the court wizard of Mistveil. Like Anuriel, she is a Wood Elf.<br />
<br />
<i>Next: <a href="https://midnightsister.blogspot.com/2018/10/prologue-riften.html">Riften</a></i>Alliyah Gallowshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08577646164033291621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-80427081925206469982023-06-22T19:32:00.003-05:002023-07-21T01:17:26.551-05:00I Just Watched The Bear Season 2<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKCiTCzoJLaojPIOZOgzHZDG5ipLn-VVTzf0VmplnUtXntHulkA2G3SyLWcKOAM36dclHMxhD0qHxE1IHLBY5KjEljAtaTMU3jPMcjR_a-UDaJT-d_6YARHgVO8JGuKlIqgo_yIo-iMpolVPjgyQ6Urh1si4LtCmAFMr6YtEXUi0BSELcuyKAcoPSrhi83/s1303/the_bear.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="865" data-original-width="1303" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKCiTCzoJLaojPIOZOgzHZDG5ipLn-VVTzf0VmplnUtXntHulkA2G3SyLWcKOAM36dclHMxhD0qHxE1IHLBY5KjEljAtaTMU3jPMcjR_a-UDaJT-d_6YARHgVO8JGuKlIqgo_yIo-iMpolVPjgyQ6Urh1si4LtCmAFMr6YtEXUi0BSELcuyKAcoPSrhi83/w640-h424/the_bear.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Ayo Edebiri as "Sydney Adamu" and Jeremy Allen White as "Carmy Berzatto"</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;">My blood pressure is so high right now, I should be entitled to some compensation.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i>*Spoilers Ahead*</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">If Season 1 focused on showcasing inner demons, Season 2 focused on overcoming those demons. At least, it showed everybody <i>else </i>overcoming their demons. Carmy Berzatto is still very demon-infested.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Molly Gordon is introduced as Carmy’s ex turned love interest with a meet-cute that leans too hard on nostalgia and cheesy romanticism. (She accurately predicts the name of the new restaurant “because you’re the Bear, and I remember you.”) It’s no coincidence that these weaker points tend to involve Carmy, a character perfectly rendered by White who’s still the least interesting part of his own show.</i> (<a href="https://variety.com/2023/tv/tv-reviews/the-bear-season-2-review-1235645635/">Source</a>)</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Yikes.</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">To be fair, in Season 1, I didn't find Carmy to be the least interesting character on the show. In some ways, he was the most mysterious. The other characters were pretty easy to figure out right away, but there was something about Carmy that was intriguing and uncertain.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This season, not so much. The characters' personal lives are fleshed out, and we get more of Carmy's backstory in particular by way of the longest, most stressful episode of the entire series. I'm never watching it again; it was <i>that</i> much. <b>It's not <u>bad</u></b>, but like many viewers have stated on social media, it's quite triggering.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The relationship with newcomer Claire was the show's weakest link, and not just because I ship Carmy/Sydney (which I mostly do out of spite, by the way. I don't actually care if they don't become canon). But no seriously; it was cringey from the beginning to the part where it thankfully ends, though in my humble opinion, it lasted way too long. It was a trite, wholly unremarkable snorefest.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">See, one of the things which made Carmy so mysterious in Season 1 was the fact that he, and I quote, "<a href="https://www.cheatsheet.com/entertainment/jeremy-allen-white-says-character-the-bear-least-sexual-person-carmy-does-not.html/">does not fuck</a>". Actor Jeremy Allen White has repeatedly touted his alter ego as the "least sexual person". So what happened? Why was this random love interest suddenly thrown in the mix, breaking Carmy's sexless, dateless streak?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Obviously, Claire is there to serve as a reminder that preeminent chefs who own their restaurants don't get to have romantic relationships, not if they want to be successful. But we already knew that. We've known it since Season 1.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But we need <i>something</i> to make Carmy shirk his duties, so while everybody else working so very hard to renovate The Bear, or studying under master chefs, or staging in award-winning restaurants, Carmy is having this cheesy, uninspired romance with a woman he refuses to call his girlfriend. They go on boring dates, have cringey conversations, and these awkward, passionless kisses that turned my stomach. The sex scene--if you can even call it that--was utterly unwatchable. It was boring and repetitive with lots of cuts, like the relationship itself. The only thing that made it survivable was when Carmy has flashbacks to sleeping with Claire, it triggers a panic attack that is only tempered once he switches to thinking about Sydney.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh, yeah. The writers did that.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Meanwhile, Marcus tries to ask Sydney out, which she promptly shuts down. And I was screaming at the TV, like, "See, Carmy??? Take some notes!!!"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Sydney, you see, has been holding it down along with Carmy's sister Natalie. While Sydney is interviewing chefs and doing <i>extensive</i> research to craft The Bear's menu, Natalie is working tirelessly through her pregnancy to get the restaurant up to code. Fak, Gary, and Richie are literally knocking down walls, stripping, painting, repairing, replacing...Tina is going to culinary school, Marcus is staging with a top chef in Denmark, and later Richie stages at a restaurant with three Michelin stars.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Everybody </i>is working their asses off to make Carmy's restaurant a success, and everybody is evolving in the process, while Carmy himself doesn't.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The season ends with Carmy accidentally locking himself in the fridge on opening night (because he kept forgetting to call the fridge guy to fix the lock). Things were already taking a downturn--restaurant ran out of forks, food was coming out too slowly--but suddenly, while Carmy's locked away, Sydney quickly reassigns roles, and everybody steps up to the make the night a success. Richie runs the expo, Fak takes over the front of the house, Sydney and Tina run the cooks, and Natalie even steps in kitchen. And Carmy misses <i>all </i>of it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He's locked away, yelling and cursing, pounding on the door, throwing a tantrum like always, while his restaurant seamlessly moves on without him. While in the fridge, where he is literally forced to cool down, he starts talking out loud about what an idiot he is for trying to get into a relationship, for dropping the ball repeatedly throughout this entire process, and how what he's got going with Claire is bullshit. Of course, by then Claire is there to hear it. Riche and Fak could only stall her for so long before she headed into the back to find out what the hell was going on.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Their relationship ends, and shortly after that, Carmy gets into another one of his signature screaming matches with Richie, but this time, I found myself rooting for Richie. Richie has finally grown up; he's not the same man we saw in Season 1. Clad in a suit and now a stickler for professionalism, he calls Carmy out for sabotaging his life. When the argument reaches a fever pitch--in which Carmy feels the need to randomly bring up Richie's child and ex-wife--Richie understandably walks off.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Once again, I cannot wait for the next season to see where this new interpersonal dynamic takes everyone, and to see the future of the restaurant. The Season 2 trailers made us think we'd get to witness Carmy's evolution, but it appears <i>that </i>is another story for another day.</div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-29098728285873722852023-05-19T14:02:00.000-05:002023-05-21T01:23:30.292-05:00Shondaland, I Need "Mirow"<div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzzUGiVtCkgirRSTepKP8GuyK1CKkQsf9OumhtzB9D9xMSWTgezdc-6YyxhW_rd720LyqrBBAnaB9ehLk2rupOjWARYvE8pdHON0L_BFlOF0fec6ULW8StCvx3RzI7g4M152F7-EPHFHxuabNKIVbbL4hsRPOZNYIelWToY14PsQ-gPpeP8jd7YjVf4A/s1920/mirow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzzUGiVtCkgirRSTepKP8GuyK1CKkQsf9OumhtzB9D9xMSWTgezdc-6YyxhW_rd720LyqrBBAnaB9ehLk2rupOjWARYvE8pdHON0L_BFlOF0fec6ULW8StCvx3RzI7g4M152F7-EPHFHxuabNKIVbbL4hsRPOZNYIelWToY14PsQ-gPpeP8jd7YjVf4A/w640-h360/mirow.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The real <a href="https://mecklenburg-strelitz.org/the-house/residences/mirow/">Mecklenburg-Strelitz residence</a> in Mirow</i></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: left;">Shondaland, I have your next Bridgerton spin-off for you.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We've all watched, and rewatched, and re-rewatched the emotional masterpiece that is <i>Queen Charlotte</i>, and we're gonna need more. *shrug* Because as much as I love Penelope Featherington, I'm not excited to see her with Colin. As far as I'm concerned, Eloise Bridgerton is a lesbian and I have <u>zero</u> desire to see her with any man. Benedict is giving fun bisexual vibes, which is all well and good, but Sophie--his love interest--has a horror story for a background and I'm not particularly thrilled to see it either.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And quite frankly, I simply don't care about the younger Bridgerton siblings. For fans like me, <i>Queen Charlotte</i> offered us another way to enjoy this beloved universe. I say keep it going.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The real Queen Charlotte had several siblings, so that would be the perfect place to start.</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We've seen the Bridgerton version of England, I say we do the same for Germany. At the end of <i>Queen Charlotte</i> (*spoilers*), the queen's brother, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adolphus_Frederick_IV,_Duke_of_Mecklenburg-Strelitz">Duke Adolf "Adolphus" Friedrich IV</a> returns to his hometown of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mirow">Mirow</a>, heartbroken over Lady Danbury's rejection.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGx_HmkudcdukXSRU2_ZXu8Kq8SrAsM_-xVCZDPJSaZ-SJJcjHIwnYugXwkurlo4iuLxDfaOgUcDR3Y_hqBx9QNPv37EJvZiAHRAKVKvpe-tZH63T2OjzIi7sNiVSgfz8QJEqmA1YOq57_S5kT8x_Kcljjg-KrfOrV24KBLfUBANFqVIIVrkqF5-tuMg/s1000/tunji_kasim_as_adolphus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="666" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGx_HmkudcdukXSRU2_ZXu8Kq8SrAsM_-xVCZDPJSaZ-SJJcjHIwnYugXwkurlo4iuLxDfaOgUcDR3Y_hqBx9QNPv37EJvZiAHRAKVKvpe-tZH63T2OjzIi7sNiVSgfz8QJEqmA1YOq57_S5kT8x_Kcljjg-KrfOrV24KBLfUBANFqVIIVrkqF5-tuMg/w266-h400/tunji_kasim_as_adolphus.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Tunji Kasim would return as Adolphus.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJpU4Qjcj0Pk9a2IV1qKaXizIW75ulm0UJsKADY80V-EMK36irf2TILIXTUA16FOVESeljmYu4_SkbU3vRzlin6iiZ6ziidSQfIMmJq3SINH5RlSYbQP9zJccohR1QCo2h0e8cKsr0Rlx50sjwL2ltJQXdB1_AcF3EIw_QjmUqmjl0SwiRbDk0ZkQfrg/s2000/lenora_crichlow_as_christiane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1333" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJpU4Qjcj0Pk9a2IV1qKaXizIW75ulm0UJsKADY80V-EMK36irf2TILIXTUA16FOVESeljmYu4_SkbU3vRzlin6iiZ6ziidSQfIMmJq3SINH5RlSYbQP9zJccohR1QCo2h0e8cKsr0Rlx50sjwL2ltJQXdB1_AcF3EIw_QjmUqmjl0SwiRbDk0ZkQfrg/w266-h400/lenora_crichlow_as_christiane.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>Lenora Crichlow could play the eldest of the siblings, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duchess_Christiane_of_Mecklenburg">Duchess Christiane</a>.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgxFoquMB8UDhHtUkfOhjN8xd1FZvwgd3x8fWSkTlCROVfQy46l8eSFaOb59Pi80Q0dMOfG2g2oWMwsuQGm8aK-I4IANYJuLJd1ggymvhApjbeXlQVwl6Xl7IJ-GTTuVZQXBG73r9UOw113-AP4oIJJFYGD2jwD_VakSmYbvQig9fgBwIo1w-MwamHvw/s512/lucien_laviscount_as_charles.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="384" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgxFoquMB8UDhHtUkfOhjN8xd1FZvwgd3x8fWSkTlCROVfQy46l8eSFaOb59Pi80Q0dMOfG2g2oWMwsuQGm8aK-I4IANYJuLJd1ggymvhApjbeXlQVwl6Xl7IJ-GTTuVZQXBG73r9UOw113-AP4oIJJFYGD2jwD_VakSmYbvQig9fgBwIo1w-MwamHvw/w271-h361/lucien_laviscount_as_charles.jpg" width="271" /></a></div>Lucien Laviscount could play the second oldest brother after Adolphus, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_II,_Grand_Duke_of_Mecklenburg-Strelitz">Duke Charles II</a>.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPmxAAdMIfKHCgUwCA45F3fEuNKeXHvlRSWL0VOtxKY4RM6X_K0m0-uWQf-AxTdkoVgaAaKnAqxoHEevrHVrmsFzY4R9EHGjrs_0c_w3Ba4k898jiOjkAYMswtHJkJDtAeqUrvBP2rD4mNIuV4Sjt7IVclsxaS95Hv1abmUNn3rGYYUwsBbJkOw9KFw/s777/aron_julius_as_ernst_gottlob.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="610" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPmxAAdMIfKHCgUwCA45F3fEuNKeXHvlRSWL0VOtxKY4RM6X_K0m0-uWQf-AxTdkoVgaAaKnAqxoHEevrHVrmsFzY4R9EHGjrs_0c_w3Ba4k898jiOjkAYMswtHJkJDtAeqUrvBP2rD4mNIuV4Sjt7IVclsxaS95Hv1abmUNn3rGYYUwsBbJkOw9KFw/w292-h372/aron_julius_as_ernst_gottlob.png" width="292" /></a></div>Aron Julius could play the next brother, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duke_Ernest_Gottlob_of_Mecklenburg">Duke Ernst Gottlob</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZzijz1_vZ_YtJI00iHpgc4OfCjEs11iJyCPKFkI791zN7GRKBNK3g7n9CTZTcYPswoZc2CBexWFgGOVmdPBk9Nm6svu673Sz3iEHYuS_L3yOxxLrNQ6_Muk3VYKilPIZPw6g1TGEUn42NsnOuIvxEe3mregZW0UGSZCOnmxqikWGfEDfV1JLMlng5UQ/s5760/malique_thompson_dwyer_as_george_augustus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5760" data-original-width="3840" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZzijz1_vZ_YtJI00iHpgc4OfCjEs11iJyCPKFkI791zN7GRKBNK3g7n9CTZTcYPswoZc2CBexWFgGOVmdPBk9Nm6svu673Sz3iEHYuS_L3yOxxLrNQ6_Muk3VYKilPIZPw6g1TGEUn42NsnOuIvxEe3mregZW0UGSZCOnmxqikWGfEDfV1JLMlng5UQ/w266-h400/malique_thompson_dwyer_as_george_augustus.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>And that would leave the role of the youngest brother, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duke_George_Augustus_of_Mecklenburg">Duke George Augustus</a>, to Malique Thompson-Dwyer.<br /><div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I would just ask that they each take some German lessons, because Tunji Kasim kept mispronouncing "<i>liebchen</i>" much to the ire of German fans.</div></div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-84721613928401982402023-03-31T16:56:00.003-05:002023-03-31T17:02:50.073-05:00The One You Send<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3ydbZAQ2wn-xkhpnllfXQl2SDj9Fo-3qG2U3TEbfAh08LxmaMG66nyKDsdErIbhycj2vci24-7-JJ71Jxls2db4NulWmEuCMKg8PfmiyxSgLHxietSkoVYYHHwGHEfcAuixQ6qQXfPL8BhGQxCalByg9p0NvHQOfHhN984mwWzt2NQTALYCzXJEY6g/s1087/the_one_you_send.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="515" data-original-width="1087" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3ydbZAQ2wn-xkhpnllfXQl2SDj9Fo-3qG2U3TEbfAh08LxmaMG66nyKDsdErIbhycj2vci24-7-JJ71Jxls2db4NulWmEuCMKg8PfmiyxSgLHxietSkoVYYHHwGHEfcAuixQ6qQXfPL8BhGQxCalByg9p0NvHQOfHhN984mwWzt2NQTALYCzXJEY6g/w640-h304/the_one_you_send.png" width="640" /></a></div>So I'm a really big <i>John Wick</i> fan and I went to see <i>Chapter Four</i> last week. It had a wildly successful weekend, and now there's all this talk of spinoffs and a <i>Chapter Five</i>, etc.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And it's all great chatter. I love this universe. I like a lot of the characters they've introduced; I'm looking forward to seeing Ana de Armas in <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ballerina_(2024_film)">Ballerina</a></i>. And I really appreciate the lore, and the way the writers let it unfold.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But can we go further back in time, before guns and bombs? To when this society of assassins was young and the laws were still fresh in everyone's minds...along with the consequences?</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Picture it: Morocco, 8th Century BCE. A trading consortium rules the fictional harbor town of Kahina with an iron fist. Their reach stretches across the waters to Portugal, Spain, and beyond.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4jXpvIqfHhacdPHTnYIS18Qf2n_Ti-pGF0NJeVgdw1I79DL84uZSUq22u6gG6D1BUSRrhbkgrGFCADFR-gnAWhp8uIVFbkUeriiTjDjxEjYfTSfuO_0_xvuFgqweRFXJ2pdXuf-kcdkHaPg0j0V7Nq8RidB0JGiS-sBs-20zhX3MmieqysbyZzp1elQ/s1600/aja_naomi_king.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4jXpvIqfHhacdPHTnYIS18Qf2n_Ti-pGF0NJeVgdw1I79DL84uZSUq22u6gG6D1BUSRrhbkgrGFCADFR-gnAWhp8uIVFbkUeriiTjDjxEjYfTSfuO_0_xvuFgqweRFXJ2pdXuf-kcdkHaPg0j0V7Nq8RidB0JGiS-sBs-20zhX3MmieqysbyZzp1elQ/w221-h333/aja_naomi_king.jpg" width="221" /></a></div><div>I can see Aja Naomi King as a solemn desert warrior who's grown tired of the life and is ready to get out. She likely serves as an assassin for the consortium, and they're just not ready to let go of her yet...or ever.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDeSyJnLJux2i2NN3TNwB22IkrK7tk0DauK3xoZPBGEbpsRXyqQbUYcUhekhVx6ebBiEYgJ5kkXbmhWy_QHyZrAT8Uc9h33aflhHiQOZJcoh8bO2oIGz7_5uF8VhoYX0zbtNMssq0gJVGwnymvuEpfnoMKabkH_-PDXyNYK4b5ym5ZSaAP11m3WeWR8Q/s600/laci_mosley.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="426" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDeSyJnLJux2i2NN3TNwB22IkrK7tk0DauK3xoZPBGEbpsRXyqQbUYcUhekhVx6ebBiEYgJ5kkXbmhWy_QHyZrAT8Uc9h33aflhHiQOZJcoh8bO2oIGz7_5uF8VhoYX0zbtNMssq0gJVGwnymvuEpfnoMKabkH_-PDXyNYK4b5ym5ZSaAP11m3WeWR8Q/s320/laci_mosley.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><div>I see Laci Mosley as a younger, more reckless assassin, reminiscent of <a href="https://johnwick.fandom.com/wiki/Ms._Perkins">Ms. Perkins</a> in the first John Wick film.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHq1Y6f0MnZcU4g9DQvQfyzeJEQuJ_3NHL_yrYVa411xawM34u89OOW7Q6mzIKkG9O5UWT_WCq8svN156ogfzCUTt3mC_3IB-BOpsryIvvDgOHSxuCGizqVhUVBBO2aalSacr0STbNNHb4moYegypTfa6wpH-iFMsQI8-rRAI-OZcqsu0vCFHfAUOy_g/s800/ines_melab.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="535" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHq1Y6f0MnZcU4g9DQvQfyzeJEQuJ_3NHL_yrYVa411xawM34u89OOW7Q6mzIKkG9O5UWT_WCq8svN156ogfzCUTt3mC_3IB-BOpsryIvvDgOHSxuCGizqVhUVBBO2aalSacr0STbNNHb4moYegypTfa6wpH-iFMsQI8-rRAI-OZcqsu0vCFHfAUOy_g/s320/ines_melab.jpg" width="214" /></a></div></div><div>Since Ines Melab already played a concierge on <i><a href="https://inventing-anna.fandom.com/wiki/In%C3%A8s_Melab">Inventing Anna</a></i>, I can see her being the regal, no-nonsense manager of the <a href="https://johnwick.fandom.com/wiki/Continental_Hotel">Crossroads Inn</a>, where assassins rest and drink to avoid their demons.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU8-uUvLW6QSzHYjrWlLNkswimwjWlG8w9YMRKSx9LUoakP3OomOYPX_TNSKx_3OxgljuPu-mKwC554IMIomxnamL3K3z_EmpnGKKBuafSkDQ-dyWJavw7mxiBPjLa4kMMBQ7i-P5bdjpSd3aBMf52ap1yf7KuK9EUOisbfMJZK-bbe4cxfAiMZX6WAw/s720/camille_winbush.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="491" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU8-uUvLW6QSzHYjrWlLNkswimwjWlG8w9YMRKSx9LUoakP3OomOYPX_TNSKx_3OxgljuPu-mKwC554IMIomxnamL3K3z_EmpnGKKBuafSkDQ-dyWJavw7mxiBPjLa4kMMBQ7i-P5bdjpSd3aBMf52ap1yf7KuK9EUOisbfMJZK-bbe4cxfAiMZX6WAw/s320/camille_winbush.jpg" width="218" /></a></div>Camille Winbush would make an excellent noblewoman: classy, pretty, and just the type to put a hit out on her husband, most likely for his seat at the <a href="https://johnwick.fandom.com/wiki/The_High_Table">High Table</a>.<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdOIGlbNjBZcc0alwTAyfSTF9d5RQUzWmJ96wycloiyRMLH10Gv4btorDt1FDEb1vr3q2n0deFe4LdDbsTat2UtZoUlo8LAywCoT1Or2Oh-CbcHnnUAVoyJV-eV7qw_s35xfH0jnDpQeUOFErV8ahdRtmjTym-OWshRQJGgNFlk4gq1yI8uDyykAqWFg/s5120/ayo_edebiri.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5120" data-original-width="3415" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdOIGlbNjBZcc0alwTAyfSTF9d5RQUzWmJ96wycloiyRMLH10Gv4btorDt1FDEb1vr3q2n0deFe4LdDbsTat2UtZoUlo8LAywCoT1Or2Oh-CbcHnnUAVoyJV-eV7qw_s35xfH0jnDpQeUOFErV8ahdRtmjTym-OWshRQJGgNFlk4gq1yI8uDyykAqWFg/w229-h344/ayo_edebiri.jpg" width="229" /></a></div>Ayo Edebiri would make the perfect <a href="https://johnwick.fandom.com/wiki/The_Adjudicator">Adjudicator</a>, lol.<br /><div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="426" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQzCRqoOguD3m8gvGZDb6zkaCAyfmftkZg5IonY4nksL_0cXZ_GYKjhJsbvJmw5mjrSBT8ZhBTaaaLHm7ADo6CHKM2bLTP3UtzmM25Cu6NV6xbMMBjOcEd65RZdm6-B2k85TYyoj_QBoyuMT1UHw0U44tcqANSG_TADFNe3h4mHnadsULixhoeywEBig/s320/oded_fehr.jpg" width="227" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Oded Fehr was born to be a <a href="https://johnwick.fandom.com/wiki/The_Harbinger">Harbinger</a>. I can see him robed in black, delivering dire news.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTvVUz5WaZwWKYjrskdJcXIwXx4rTjhj1lRelr35YghbcB88Qs6va6k4VD-7xur4qsxD2WgwadDaj9ZAAmSUGZUWmX1skxGvB2JUefbHZIOSZLTr2ghm3PqxaUyPBaeewo44bOwvAnMlGZXE1H5t1blmhsqyZN1oJ2f22rt3rXXOw8iH3CluclSSIgzA/s2048/jose_zuniga.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTvVUz5WaZwWKYjrskdJcXIwXx4rTjhj1lRelr35YghbcB88Qs6va6k4VD-7xur4qsxD2WgwadDaj9ZAAmSUGZUWmX1skxGvB2JUefbHZIOSZLTr2ghm3PqxaUyPBaeewo44bOwvAnMlGZXE1H5t1blmhsqyZN1oJ2f22rt3rXXOw8iH3CluclSSIgzA/w221-h333/jose_zuniga.jpg" width="221" /></a></div>Every John Wick film requires an asshole the audience loves to hate, lol. José Zúñiga could be a Spanish lord who sits at the High Table, and whose fortunes are heavily tied to the aforementioned consortium.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFSz716wyJCLViN2jqsoO3j34yZEAT_j1kkrtl3tn4ROEB8SAoyOeLt1r7MdA5U_cXsrp8QOSrseUcQuWYa-EMIfxFl6ChctAOl0t7nxkinJX_-Nojo2cQyCvSq8Vk1_HLtT63SRICk2v9ztGJR1nKrf4fot7p2SZc0mjfOt-ebJhsc-NKmR_zAMsMag/s750/alice_braga.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="500" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFSz716wyJCLViN2jqsoO3j34yZEAT_j1kkrtl3tn4ROEB8SAoyOeLt1r7MdA5U_cXsrp8QOSrseUcQuWYa-EMIfxFl6ChctAOl0t7nxkinJX_-Nojo2cQyCvSq8Vk1_HLtT63SRICk2v9ztGJR1nKrf4fot7p2SZc0mjfOt-ebJhsc-NKmR_zAMsMag/w222-h334/alice_braga.jpg" width="222" /></a></div>I would love to write Alice Braga as a Portuguese countess who also sits at the High Table, and lives to antagonize her Spanish rivals.<div><br /></div><div>What do y'all think?</div>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810881449181162518.post-47636207958619801422023-03-19T20:16:00.006-05:002023-08-07T13:47:39.873-05:00The Girl, Part III<p style="text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibL1rgZZr4ewrDbON9trhsU9ZHJxbzFTny9ZbmzcFllygyYw-UAfZd5YcJzmHScWk1Fh-lLNsmnCd03nAbR-OAyfL5ESqtgskMDzHyVN6PyIvZmjbqCztuCQx_LbRYCd9CzYOEHt4xKBqAaYlDwnAZLxoy-8k1q6RBsNhOqahuJmwYcbqgYDzGeE-qrg/s1187/Elizaveta.png"><img border="0" data-original-height="727" data-original-width="1187" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibL1rgZZr4ewrDbON9trhsU9ZHJxbzFTny9ZbmzcFllygyYw-UAfZd5YcJzmHScWk1Fh-lLNsmnCd03nAbR-OAyfL5ESqtgskMDzHyVN6PyIvZmjbqCztuCQx_LbRYCd9CzYOEHt4xKBqAaYlDwnAZLxoy-8k1q6RBsNhOqahuJmwYcbqgYDzGeE-qrg/w640-h392/Elizaveta.png" width="640" /></a></div><div><i>Previously: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/03/the-girl-part-ii.html">The Girl, Part II<br /></a></i><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Dearest Reader,<br /></i><i><br /></i></div><div><i>What a triumph that was!<br /></i><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Cordelia Patridge, dejected debutante, rose from the ashes of her own disappointments on the arm of Count Adrik Mironov, prancing about the dance floor like some fae creature, looking positively perfect in pink.<br /></i><i><br /></i></div><div><i>The Dowager Countess was present, of course, but did not dance. Typically, a widow of her great age would not be chosen to--<br /></i><br /></div><div>Queen Charlotte angrily crumpled up the latest Whistledown and tossed it aside in a huff.<br /><br /></div><div>"This is a disaster," she mumbled breathlessly. "I had thought the prior ball a mere fluke, but it would appear this is becoming...<i>something</i>."<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>"Your Majesty, we do not know the man's intent," Lady Danbury assured her, adding an extra sugar to her tea and stirring with a golden spoon. "The girl caught him off guard; it would have been embarrassing if he dismissed her...not to mention, disastrous to her reputation."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh please, Agatha," Charlotte snapped. She rarely called her old friend by name. "You know how these men are. A virgin in pink bats her eyes and suddenly they forget everything--<i>everyone</i>--that's actually important."</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div><br /></div><div>"If he indeed loves the Dowager--"</div><div><br /></div><div>"He loves her," the Queen nodded resolutely, more so to herself than Lady Danbury. "I know he loves her. I saw it in his eyes, in both their eyes. Why can't they just be together?"</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div><br /></div><div>"This is place is a fucking tomb," Clementine sighed irritably, stopping by the kitchens to visit her cousin and steal an apple. "The Dowager is smoking incessantly in her chambers, the Count is sulking in his, Iakov won't stop playing the piano, and nobody wants the lights on...save for the hearths."</div><div><br /></div><div>"It would seem Cordelia Patridge has come between them," Allegra shook her head, kneading the dough for bread. "Have the guestrooms been dusted?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Clementine scowled at her, having already taken a large bite of her apple. "Of <i>course</i> the guestrooms have been dusted, cousin...even though we never have any guests."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Still need to keep a clean house," Allegra shrugged, briefly wiping the sweat from her brow.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Can we stop talking about the bloody house?" Clementine snapped.</div><div><br /></div><div>"What do you want me to say, cousin?" Allegra sighed. "He met someone younger, fresher--"</div><div><br /></div><div>"I heard the Dowager didn't flinch at the ball," Clementine took another bite. "They say she even encouraged the Count to dance with Cordelia."</div><div><br /></div><div>"As a proper lady would," Allegra nodded. "It's good to know she values her dignity."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Does she?" Clementine blinked. "Because if you could see her now...."</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div><br /></div><div>She missed her morning bath, didn't bother to dress, and her hair was unbraided. And though Elizabeth typically detested the smell of smoke, she couldn't stop smoking. Cigarettes were literally the only thing holding her together at this point.</div><div><br /></div><div>She missed breakfast, and later lunch. Just before the sun went down, Adrik finally came to see her, likely out of concern. She was lounging on a chaise in front of her window, overlooking the courtyard, and the barren winter trees beyond. She was still in her dressing gown, and still smoking.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Elizaveta," he began gingerly, "the servants tell me you haven't eaten all day."</div><div><br /></div><div>"I'm not hungry," she mumbled back, leaning over to a nearby end table to tap her cigarette ash.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Even so," he entered the room, closing the door behind him, "we should probably talk about last night."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Just last night?" she asked lightly. Her tone hardened slightly with her next question. "What about the nights before that?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Adrik was briefly confused. "Nights...?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Adrik, you are an adult, unmarried, and even if you were married you could still fuck whoever you wanted. What you won't do, is blindside me, not when I've waited this long to finally come home."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Veta--"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Don't," she bit out, "'Veta' me, Adrik." She paused for a quick draw. When she spoke again, her voice was leaden. "What are you doing with the Patridge girl?"</div><div><br /></div><div>He sighed, then scoffed, "I'm not fucking Cordelia Patridge, Elizabeth."</div><div><br /></div><div>She rose swiftly, nimbly to her feet and turned to his face. "I know you're not fucking her! But you want to, or at least you've considered it. Well, guess what? She doesn't want to be a dalliance, Adrik; she wants to be your <i>wife</i>. Her mother is expecting you to call on them; hell, she's already scheduling your wedding for next year!"</div><div><br /></div><div>"It was one dance at one ball," Adrik said lowly, trying to do damage control. "I didn't expect--"</div><div><br /></div><div>"You didn't expect that doe-eyed girl to want more?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes incredulous, her tone only slightly sarcastic. "You didn't expect the <i>ton </i>to gossip, or for Lady Whistledown to print their whispers?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Adrik sighed, exhausted. "<i>I don't want to marry Cordelia</i>."</div><div><br /></div><div>"<i>I know</i>," Elizabeth nodded. "<i>But that just leaves the question of what you </i>do <i>want. Because if you drag me into a scandal, so help me God</i>--"</div><div><br /></div><div>"<i>I want to marry you</i>," he surrendered. "<i>I've always wanted to marry you. I don't care how impossible you think it is or how much you think the ton will gossip, there has to be a way. My father is dead, we are still here, and I want to marry you, Veta. If not, I can just return home with Iakov, and get on with my li</i>--"</div><div><br /></div><div>He couldn't finish because she was across the room, in his arms, kissing him and sinking her fingers into his dark silky hair. He immediately kissed her back; she tasted of ash and wine and sorrow and the love she stubbornly refused to admit for him. She was warm and soft in his arms, and instead their usual fiery, illicit passion there was comfort and familiarity. And yet...they'd been down the road before, many times, always to the same result. Adrik knew that if he kept kissing her, they were going to end up in her bed, and then their dysfunctional little cycle would start all over again.</div><div><br /></div><div>"<i>Nyet</i>," he gently pushed her away. Not this time. Not ever again. "<i>Not until we are married. You have until the end of this week to accept my proposal. After that, I will move my things to an inn. And when the weather warms, I will return to Russia</i>."</div><div><br /></div><div>"<i>Of course I accept</i>," she rasped, eyes tearing. "<i>If you can figure out a way to make it work, I accept</i>."</div><div><br /></div><div>The sorrow and weariness burned away as his eyes turned to deep, smoldering coals. His jaw tightened. "<i>You accept?</i>"</div><div><br /></div><div>Elizabeth nodded, unable to speak any further. She expected another kiss to seal the proposal, but instead he took a step back.</div><div><br /></div><div>"<i>There's nothing to figure out</i>," he stated, voice like iron. "<i>These are not my people. This is not my country. I will apply for a special license. We will wed. And when the warms, my </i>wife <i>and I will return home, gossipers be damned</i>."</div><div><br /></div><div>The tears ran down her dark cheeks as her chest heaved. "<i>I don't want to leave</i>."</div><div><br /></div><div>"<i>We can stay</i>," he shrugged, nodding stiffly. "<i>But we will wed before anything else. I have waited years for this. No matter what, we </i>will <i>wed</i>."</div><div><br /></div><div>"<i>The Patridge family</i>--"</div><div><br /></div><div>"<i>I will pay for the Baroness to whisk her daughter away, to a spa perhaps</i>," he shrugged again. "<i>Whatever eases the girl's pain and spares her embarrassment." He nodded. "In the meantime, we wed</i>."</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Next: <a href="https://www.darkandtwisty.cc/2023/08/the-bride.html">The Bride</a></i></div><p></p>MileenaXYZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17093243245665702160noreply@blogger.com0