I have mentioned the U.K. because the law has recently changed here, and it is now mandatory to have all cats chipped
Not sure where to post this. Okay, I rehomed a cat, Beebs, about five years ago. The lady that I got him from had also rehomed him, but he didn’t get along with her other cats, so he came to me as a one cat household.
The original owner had him rehomed because her husband was allergic to him. She had him chipped, and I have no way of contacting her. I contacted his previous mum, a long time ago and she sent me some details of his original owner, but since then I can’t find it.
I have tried to get her tracked down on his chip, but the vet was unable to give me her details (data protection), so that I can change the details on the chip, so that avenue seems to be closed. Idk.
He has to be chipped, and I’d like to know if I can have him re chipped. Will the original chip interfere with this? Do they take out the old one? I assume I have to prove I’m the owner, otherwise anyone could do it, right? As he was a private rehome, how would I prove that?
Aaaarrrggghhh, please help Reddit. By the way, he is very happy now with his new slave and loved and cared for.

Disclaimer: I am 18+ and all participants must be 18+. NO exceptions!
14 of Rain's Head, Year 159 5E
It has been long since the Last Dragonborn defeated Alduin. Skyrim and her people live without fear of the dragon menace, and any dragons that remain live in seclusion on top of the mountains. The worship of Talos had been legalized and Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak has long since joined the great feasting in Sovngarde, but the Stormcloaks still live on, with many still wearing their colors. The Empire has given up any hope of regaining Skyrim, though the Aldmeri Dominion still claim they will take the country back one day.
Windhelm is now being governed by Ulfric's descendant, Tarren Stormcloak. He governs the city with ideals not dislike his great ancestor, but for the sake of not being overthrown, he publicly displays more than just tolerance for those who aren't Nords. The Gray Quarters are more spacious now, and many families of Dunmer residing there. Tarren is viewed as a better Ulfric in many regards, though it is merely a facade.
Skyrim was finally at peace... for a time.
Tarren had just retired to his bed, exhausted from a long day in which he helped his people and hunted. With a quick clap of his hands, he summoned his chamber maid, a beautiful woman whom he did not know the race of. It mattered little to him, as he must show "love" to all the people of Skyrim, not just the Nords. He gently caressed her cheek as she came to bed with him, a loving gesture that one would expect from a husband to his wife, not a Jarl to his servant. In truth, he cared little for this woman, viewing her as little more than someone to have fun with. Of course, he knew better than to come out an say it.
He began to pull her in closer, intending to savor a kiss before indulging in love, when a scream could be heard from outside. Said scream was followed by several more, then the shattering of plates and breaking of wood. The young Jarl's concern grew, and he began to raise from the bed. "Stay here," he instructed as he left the bed to approach the door.
The young woman watched her Jarl from the bed, confusion and worry on her face. The anticipation grew with each passing second until the door itself jumped at him, nearly being broken open. Immediately, Tarren ran back to the bed, grabbing the chamber maid by the arm and pulling her off the bed. He hurriedly pushed her into the large closet and closed the door most of the way. "Stay in here," he commanded, looking into the woman's eyes through the cracked door, "and don't come out until I come for you!"
Just as the Jarl closed the door, the woman could hear the bedroom door burst open. "Foul creature!" Tarren growled as the unsheathing of a sword could be heard. "I'll send you back to Obliv-"
The Jarl's words were cut off, and all that could be heard was the sound of a blade gliding through flesh. A thud was next heard, along with footsteps, as the young woman cowered into the corner of the closet. What sounded like sniffing could be heard a moment later, then a voice spoke, but it was not Tarren Stormcloak. The voice sounded distorted, foreign, evil. "Another, in there," it said, getting closer with every syllable. The door began to creek open, and the young woman closed her eyes tight.
"FUS-RO-DAH!!!"
The ancient words of the dragon's tongue echoed in the bed slave's ears, followed by the sound of glass shattering and the yells of whatever spoke first. A mere moment later, the door swung open to show a different man with a broad chest, sword in hand. He was older than the Jarl, likely in his forties. His long blonde hair, which covered the left side of his face, had a few grey hair, and his crystal blue eye showed wisdom. His physique was more chiseled than the Jarl's as well, covered by a red shirt with chain mail underneath. His trousers were black, but spots of blood could easily be seen. On his feet were boots made of what seemed to be bones, and from displays she'd seen as a girl, the young woman could tell the bones were from a Dragon.
Without a word, the man grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, looking her in the eye with a look of intense focus and seriousness. "If you want to stay alive, woman, you'll stay close to me!"

 * 

So that was a really long intro.
Hey! So, this is an idea I've had for about a month now, and I was originally just gonna make it a fanfiction or something, but I decided to make this a roleplay idea. As you may have guessed, this will be a Skyrim based roleplay, taking place long after the Last Dragonborn defeated Alduin. Many aspects of the world are the same, but with new people and much more danger. The basic gist is that Jyggalag, the Daedric Prince of Order and Logic, has regained much of his power and has decided to attempt to do what Molag Bal and Mehrunes Dagon failed to do: enter and take over Tamriel. And it is up to two heros to gain the Artifacts of the other Daedric Princes to stop him!
As you may have guessed, I'd like for your character to be a former chamber maid, or just a regular servant if you want, of the current Jarl of Windhelm. He race, Backstory and powers are up to you. My character is a Nord who trained with the Grey Beards for twenty years to master the Way of the Voice. He's an excellent fighter and archer, but is hopeless in the fields of magic. We can discuss characters further in the DMs.
I usually roleplay on Kik, but for longer, more detailed plots like this, I prefer to use Discord. Feel free to message me on whichever you prefer.
Hope to hear from you soon.
Kik: bartender365 Discord: gamertagtony#7699

The Journal of Sex Research Vol.26. No.3, pp.375-392 August, 1989

The Sexual Experience and Marital Adjustment of Genitally

Circumcised and Infibulated Females in The Sudan

HANNY LIGHTFOOT-KLEIN, M.A.

In a study conducted over a 5-year period, the author interviewed over 300 Sudanese women and 100 Sudanese men on the sexual experience of circumcised and infibulated women. Sudanese circumcision involves excision of the clitoris, the labia minora and the inner layers of the labia majora, and fusion or infibulation of the bilateral wound. The findings of this study indicate that sexual desire, pleasure, and orgasm are experienced by some women who have been subjected to this extreme sexual mutilation, in spite of their also being culturally bound to hide these experiences. These findings also seriously question the importance of the clitoris as an organ that must be stimulated in order to produce female orgasm, as is often maintained in Western sexological literature.

KEY WORDS: Female circumcision, clitoridectomy, female sexual experience.

Background

Pharaonic circumcision in the Nile Valley is as old as recorded history. To this date, it distinguishes “decent" and respectable women from unprotected prostitutes and slaves, and it carries with it the only honorable, dignified, and protected status that is possible for a woman there. Like other Arab cultures, Sudanese society is characteristically patriarchal and patrilineal. In such a society, an unmarried woman has virtually no rights, no status in the society, and severely limited, if any, economic recourse. Without circumcision, a girl can not marry and is thereby unable to fulfill her intended role, i.e., to produce legitimate sons to carry on her husband's patrilineage.

The greatest measure of a family's honor is the sexual purity of its women. Any transgression on the part of the woman disgraces the whole family, and only the most extreme measures will restore this honor. This may take the form of divorce, casting the woman out, or putting her to death.

Under British colonial occupation, several unsuccessful attempts were made to abolish Pharaonic circumcision. It has since been declared illegal under a Sudanese law, with the inception of an independent state in 1956. However, this law has never been implemented.

The northern, Islamic part of Sudan consists largely of desert areas. Sudan is considered to be the second least developed country in the world. Only Chad, bordering it to the west, is more acutely poverty-stricken, barren, bleak, disease-ridden, and impervious to repeated attempts at technological development. In the entire country, there are virtually no paved roads, and travel modes are extremely primitive and arduous. Except in the capital. Khartoum, Sudan is still largely untouched by Western influences. The way of life is profoundly traditional and continues to be ruled by age-old custom. Pharaonic circumcision is practiced virtually without exception, even among the educated class in the capital, to this day. It is celebrated with great festivity by the families, and the day of circumcision is considered to be the most important day in a woman's life, far more important than her wedding day.

Methodology

The bulk of the body of knowledge discussed herein was obtained by the author during three separate six-month overland journeys through the Sudan, within a time span of five years. During this period, she traveled alone among the native population and at every opportunity that presented itself discussed the practice of female circumcision with the people she got to know. Many of these interviews were arranged by letters of introduction obtained along the way. The total number of people interviewed in this fashion came to more than 100 men and more than 800 women. These people came from all walks of life. Representative among them were gynecologists, pediatricians, psychiatrists, nurses, midwives, pharmacists, paramedics, teachers, college professors, college and high school students, obstetrical patients, mothers of pediatric patients, brides, bridegrooms, homemakers, merchants, historians, religious leaders, grandmothers, village women and men.

Among those people highly sympathetic to the author's research was the director of a small gynecological hospital, Dr. Salah Abu Bakr, who put his entire staff, his patients, the use of a private room and two excellent translators at her disposal. The translators were Sudanese nurses who had been trained in London. Both were pharaohnically circumcised, and both carried on a flourishing circumcision practice on the side, as did all other nurses and midwives at the hospital. They were able to translate not only linguistically but could interpret the finer nuances of what took place in the interviews. The major part of the information that was obtained on sexual intercourse and orgasm came from the series of interviews conducted at this hospital, and also at Ahfat College and Khartoom University, among students, professors, and other intellectuals that the author befriended. This more formalized project included 97 women and 34 men.

Discussing the subject with intellectual friends was relatively easy since there is no taboo regarding an exchange of information on the subject between women, nor is there one between Sudanese men and a woman from a Western culture. Both sexes among this group seemed to welcome the opportunity to discuss a subject that generally does not bear discussion.

The hospital staff and patient body interviewed consisted mostly of women with little or no education. When questioned, these women usually professed a total absence of sexual desire and sexual enjoyment. However, when it became evident to the author that she was receiving "institutional answers" to her questions, she consulted with the translators about how to overcome this.

The translators suggested that the questions on sexual desire and enjoyment be preceded by a question on whether the woman employed the "smoke ceremony." (The significance of this will be explained later in this paper.) This almost invariably solved the problem. Once a woman had admitted to using the ceremony, which nearly all did, and when it became evident that the author understood its significance, communication tended to flow and was enjoyed by all four participants in the interview. The author's expressed willingness to answer whatever questions interviewees might have about her own culture and personal experiences was also found to be extremely disarming and tended to promote an animated exchange of information. Their interest rarely, if ever, extended beyond whether the author herself was circumcised or not. The revelation that neither she, nor her daughters, nor any of the women of her family were circumcised was virtually incomprehensible to them. At the end of each hospital interview, there was a three-way conference between the author and the Sudanese nurse-translators regarding the validity of the information obtained. It did not, in essence, differ from the information obtained from other sources.

Findings

Pharaonic circumcision of girls, as it is practiced in Sudan, involves the excision of the clitoris, the labia minora and the inner, fleshy layers of the labia majora. The remaining outer edges of the labia majora are then brought together so that when the wound has healed they are fused so as to leave only a pinhole-sized opening. The resultant infibulation is, in effect, an artificially created chastity belt of thick, fibrous scar tissue. Urination and menstruation must thereafter be accomplished through this tiny remaining aperture. Masturbation, intercourse and internal stimulation are impossible.

This surgical procedure has for thousands of years been performed ritually but is, at present, often performed routinely in a clinic-like setting in the urban centers on all small girls, most frequently between the ages of 4 and 8, regardless of their social standing in the society. In the outlying areas, the procedures are conducted in the age-old fashion, by medically untrained midwives, without anesthesia or anti-septic. The struggling child is simply held immobile throughout the operation, and it is obvious that under such conditions the likelihood of hemorrhage, infection, trauma to adjacent structures, shock from pain, urinary retention due to sepsis, edema or scarring, and psychic trauma is extremely high.

The infibulation, even among girls who are circumcised by trained midwives or nurses in a clinic-like setting, under only slightly more antiseptic conditions with a locally injected analgesics to mitigate the pain, often presents health problems to the girl later on in life, if she survives the initial trauma of the operation. Various degrees and types of urinary obstruction are a frequent result of infibulation, and concomitant urinary tract infections are very common in pharaohnically circumcised women (Abdallah, 1982; Cook, 1979; Dareer, 1983; Huber, 1969; Laycock, 1950; Sami, 1986; Shandall, 1967; Venin, 1975).

The onset of menstruation generally creates a tremendous problem for the girl as the vaginal aperture is inadequate for menstrual flow, and an infibulated virgin suffers protracted and painful periods of menstruation, with blockage, retention and buildup of clots behind the infibulation. Adolescence is not a happy time for the Sudanese girl, and depression is said by doctors to be common at this time. Girls are often married soon after menstruation commences.

Sudan, as an Afro-Arab Islamic culture, measures the all-important honor of its families largely by the virtue and chastity of its women. Women are assumed to be (by nature) sexually voracious, promiscuous and unbridled creatures, morally too weak to be entrusted with the sacred honor of the family. Pharaohnic circumcision is believed to ensure this honor by not only decreasing an excessive sexual sensitivity in them but by considerably dampening their sex drive. Furthermore, the actual physical barrier of the infibulation is believed to prevent rape. In small girls at least, this is not always the case, as they are sometimes brought into medical installations for repair of tears resulting from sexual assault. Another widely held belief, even among the educated, is that if the clitoris is not cropped in a young girl, it will grow to enormous size and dangle between the legs, like a man's penis, a belief which carries with it great revulsion. Without circumcision, a girl is simply not marriageable, and the tighter her infibulation, the higher the bride price that can be obtained.

The role of the woman in the society is one of total submission to the man, and her behavior must at all times reflect extreme modesty, unassailable chastity, and a virtual withdrawal from the world outside of the home. Even when educated women in the metropolitan areas now occasionally hold jobs, they are not able to go out into society except under the strictest supervision of either their husbands or some other dominant family member.

Marriages are arranged by the families, although a certain amount of leeway is presently allowed among the more modern and educated class, so that a young man may decide for himself which girl he wishes to marry. And if his choice is an acceptable one to both families, the arrangements are then made. Even without this, arranged marriages are often remarkably successful, as measured by the satisfaction expressed by both partners. One of the main conditions for the girl's happiness is that she is not located away from her extended family (or clan by marriage.) In other words, she remains in a familiar and supportive environment.

Both the bridegroom and the bride are required to play rigidly assigned roles at the marriage ceremony. He must appear relaxed, smiling, supremely confident, totally in control, while she must be unsmiling and present the abjectly submissive nature of maidenly modesty. His role is the more difficult to maintain because it masks an anxiety that he may not be able to penetrate her infibulation, that he will cause her to hemorrhage in the attempt (and perhaps even see her die), or that his anxiety will cause erectile dysfunction which would be so devastating to his manhood that he may actually commit suicide as a consequence.

Her withdrawn, unresponsive expression is far closer to the truth and hides an abject terror of what is in store for her. The penetration of the bride's infibulation takes anywhere from 3 or 4 days to several months. Some men are unable to penetrate their wives at all (in my study over 15%), and the task is often accomplished by a midwife under conditions of great secrecy, since this reflects negatively on the man's potency. Some who are unable to penetrate their wives manage to get them pregnant in spite of the infibulation, and the woman's vaginal passage is then cut open to allow birth to take place. A great deal of marital anal intercourse takes place in cases where the wife can not be penetrated-- quite logically in a culture where homosexual anal intercourse is a commonly accepted premarital recourse among men-but this is not readily discussed. Oral sex is widely practiced by wives but rarely by husbands. Those men who do manage to penetrate their wives do so often, or perhaps always, with the help of the "little knife." This creates a tear, which they gradually rip more and more until the opening is sufficient to admit the penis. Repeated scarring results. In some women, the scar tissue is so hardened and overgrown with keloidal formations that it can only be cut with very strong surgical scissors, as is reported by doctors who relate cases where they broke scalpels in the attempt.

Clearly, the Sudanese bride undergoes conditions of tremendous pain, as well as physical and psychic trauma. These were always readily spoken of by women, generally with a great deal of easily expressed affect, when they were speaking to a female interviewer. Paradoxically, most women related that their husbands were considerate and loving throughout the ordeal, and that they are sensitive and tender lovers. A far smaller number of women said that their husbands had been brutal.

Sudanese couples tend to bond quite strongly, by and large, in spite of the trauma the woman undergoes. Most women give the appearance of being very proud of their husbands. They often express great satisfaction with their marriages and their lives. Nonetheless, when they are asked whether they would have preferred to have been men, rather than women, they say without any exception that if only Allah had willed it, they would very much have preferred to have been created men.

The Sudanese, in general, are a remarkably open, friendly, peaceable, mutually supportive, generous, deeply devout people, who, to the Western mind, are inexplicably happy in their desperately poor, monotonously barren, harsh and bleakly desertized land. Their emotional lives, from childhood on, are quite remarkably rich, as Sudanese psychiatrists will also verify, and loving relationships are plentiful in their widely extended families. They are deeply convinced of the infiniteness and mercy of Allah, and they practice the obligations imposed by their religion fervently and with great joy. The rule of custom is powerful and all-pervading and is accepted by the populace without question.

Our parents were divorced, both of them sucked because mom was crazy and dad's life was just a wreck. Despite all that, I turned out okay: i finally finished medical school in my mid 30s (I was a late bloomer and had a long and colorful career in healthcare prior to actually starting med school). I knew I wanted to be a doctor. My dad was an EMT and my mom was a nurse. I knew I wanted to do better than both of them, I remember mom telling me that I would grow up and be a failure, so I wanted to be better than her in every single way: i wasn't going to get divorced and be stuck with two kids, working all the time just to make ends meet and seem to be miserable all the time. I wanted to live in moderate luxury, have a nice apartment downtown and travel all the time. I wanted to live like the doctors on TV (scrubs was my favorite show growing up). I wanted the respect and admiration of the rest of my family and guess what? I fucking earned it. I worked and slaved away and finally got it done (my mom did help some financially, it was the least she could do after a miserable childhood). I have some student debt but I've got less than everyone else and I've got enough time to pay it off. No kids, no husband, just me myself and I so I'm not worried in the slightest.
You probably read all that and ask 'You're doing well, so why do you resent your brother?' and here's why: I'm jealous of him. When we were kids, I was short, slightly overweight with asthma and allergies. He was tall, thin and had no health problems at all. School seemed so easy for him, he didn't study at all. His only weakness was with girls: he didn't know how to talk to them or get a girlfriend, but he didn't really care he was more than content staying in his room playing video games. My parents got divorced when I was 8 and he left to live with dad when he was 15 (I was 13 at the time). One day he just got tired of mom, picked up the phone and within a week he was gone. I couldn't believe it, how could he just do it without thinking of me and mom? Mom was a wreck after that, and she took a lot of frustration on me. But my brother? Things were easier with dad. He lived in a shittier part of town with a moron of a stepmother, but nobody harassed him about anything. He graduated high school and immediately went into the military as a navy nuke, then got picked up officer in school. When all of this is happening, I'm still living with mom and her new husband and absolutely hating life, so as soon as I graduated high school, I got a job and moved out with some friends. We were poor but I was out of the house. Meanwhile, he's doing very well, without debt or family stress and almost never calls. When I did talk to mom and dad they would just say 'have you talked to your brother recently? no? well you should call him, I know he's very busy with school and everything' and it just made me mad because I wish I had the options he did. It looks like he barely struggled with anything and I'm on the verge of ripping my hair out daily, why the fuck did he have it so easy?
It gets worse: he finishes his time as an officer (he didn't stay in which shocked the rest of the family, he said the job was absolutely awful and he hated how afraid leadership was at exercising authority, like hes some type of macho badass that just does whatever the fuck he wants). I finally got an associates and happened to find a well paying job in healthcare (I harvested organs from cadavers, it was actually kind a cool) but hes got a house, is getting married and is just generally well off. The family has nothing but good things to say about him, how proud they are etc etc. Mom and Dad would say they were proud of me too, but it didn't look as sincere. Kinda like you're telling someone just so they don't feel left out. My brother did do one nice thing for me: when I totaled my car he bought me a new one, cash. It wasn't an expensive car, he just found an old Toyota on Craigslist, bought it and drove it to my house. He said 'just pay me back whenever you can, dont worry about interest'. The family said it was nice of him but his monotonous tone always bothered me. He had it so easy this whole time and he finally decides to throw a bone?
Now, here's the part that starts to grind my gears. My brother worked in radiation safety after getting out of the Navy. He finds out that Radiation Physicists make a good amount of money and that career growth was much better. His wife worked and made decent money, but they saved so much (and he still had his GI Bill) so he decides to quit his job (making 130k a year, with 2 young kids at home) just to go to school. Mind you, this entire time, I'm finishing residency for medical school (I specialized in emergency medicine, just because I wanted the glory of saving lives and the adrenaline rush is hard to beat) and I'm living on a razor's edge financially, and this guy just says 'eh, I could go back to school' and drops everything to go back AND FINISHES WITHOUT ANY FUCKING DEBT. His school was also shorter so I just thought 'heh, I'll still make more money, so I'll still be the one on top'. Mind you, I make about 350k-400k a year. I also work shiftwork, so it can be tough. Then, this fucker comes out making 220k a year RIGHT OUT OF COLLEGE WITHOUT ANY DEBT. That was 4 years ago, now he's making 280k a year (on a normal day shift with SOME on call time) without any student debt AND HE'S WORKING ON A PHD SO THE REST OF THE FAMILY STILL LOOKS AT HIM AS THE EXAMPLE. I'm not making this shit up, our grandparents, parents, cousins, aunts, uncles....everyone is insanely proud of him. Most of our family is just simple working class people so when they hear they have a relative who's getting a PHD in medical physics, they're instantly impressed like he's Stephen Fucking Hawking. To be fair, I get some of the adoration too, but not as much as him. He lives a better life financially than I do, him and his wife have a combine income of 400k, have 2 children and live in a BEAUTIFUL custom built house. While I make as much as them together, I have student loans...he doesn't. He's got savings and investments out the ass and I'M SO JEALOUS THAT IT WAS SO EASY FOR HIM. He would say 'yeah school was hard' but he never considered suicide, he never cried in frustration, he would just...do it. He never even complained about it. How am I supposed to compete with a fucking robot? He just feels like he's better than me in every single way and it's fucking demoralizing.

First of all, I think Kubrick was very much as "you take away from it what you take away from it" kind guy. It may be that the "was that part a dream or not--?" question is intentional, that he doesn't have an answer.
That said, I think the movie is superficially boring BECAUSE he was so busy injecting symbolism and meaning into it. So if you put him against a wall and stuck your finger in his face and signed an NDA and maybe got him a little tipsy, what would he say was happening? Here's my take:

1. The Christmas tree LIGHTS are a symbol of arousal or desire. When you see them on, someone is "turned on"; when they are absent or turned off, the environment is neutral or sterile. Thus at the end when you see a little bit of Christmas tree lights, it symbolizes the rekindling of their desire.

2) I think the second party is a dream. The wife tells Bills she had a dream about an Orgy, they smoke pot, everything gets weird and surreal. From there until he finds the mask on the bed he is high as a kite. This allows for continuity errors ( https://www.reddit.com/StanleyKubrick/comments/mysu40/the_continuity_error_in_eyes_wide_shut/ ) establishing shots that indicate no time has passed at all (I can't find a reference, maybe someone else can). It also allows him to come home at 4AM and go to work the next day no problem.
3) This means that when he sees the mask and breaks down crying to his wife that he will tell all, "all" is him flirting with the daughter of the doctor, him flirting with the prostitute, etc ... not lying to sneak out to a sex party. It is mostly admitting his thought-crimes, which the book plays with the Christian idea that if you've thought it in your heart you've committed the sin. (I am a confessing Christian and can see this as true from certain directions. I struggle with it.) He also tells her about the dream, another thought-crime or five. At the end of the movie, the wife says they should be happy they "survived" it and wants to move on. If the events were literal, that'd be weird - like we are lucky Red Cloak didn't take us out? If, however, she means we are lucky the relationship survived (our fantasies and flirtations), well, that just makes total sense.
4) It makes zero sense that, if the baddies were real, they would give her his mask and say "ask him about this!" That is because, of course, the baddies, the second party, and the mask, were a dream. (Or else she's a beta slave herself. #6 explores why I do not think that is the case. ANOTHER explanation is that he came home after the party, put his stuff away, and left/forgot the mask, which she discovered and put at his bed. This seems possible, in which case it would not be a dream and still she is no slave. Assuming Party #2 was real, DID he go home with the stuff, then take it back later?)
5) The mirroring indicates a dream. Party 2 mirrors party 1, Victor's red pool table, cue ball, and chalk mirrors red cloak, when Bill meets the daughter of his dying patient, she is a look alike for Nicole Kidman, and her husband a look-a-like for Tom Cruise. This is a chance for him to be with someone-else who is not him. Arguably the pick-up-costume scene mirrors the drop off scene, and the try-to-hit-on-hooker scene mirrors the find-out-she-is-hiv-positive scene. I am least confident of this point.
6) Alice is not some evil beta sex slave leader. She is, however, kind-of trapped in a marriage that allows her an easy life where she doesn't have to do too much but raise a child (with $$ for help), look pretty, and be available for her man, who she has grown to resent. Societal pressure kind-of forces her to stay. In other words, she is kind-of a sex slave, of a sort, which her daughter is in danger of becoming.
7) The weird things (backdrops with loops like the number 6, the word SEX on a painting above the child's bed, lights kinda shaped like boobs, all the christmas-wreath-like decorations that look kind-of like crosses but not quite, the strategically placed painting in the elevator) are all indicators of the unconscious manifesting into the conscious.
8) There's weird pedo implications in the movie, with both the daughter and the costume daughter. I doesn't really fit the narrative of "all about bill"; in fact, Bill is pissed when he comes back and the men have (apparently) bought their way into everything being okay. I'm not quite sure what to say about that, except that Epstein was only about two degrees of separation away. UPDATE: I think this comment explains it well. At least, I think it is very likely - it's more social commentary on how we are metaphorically abducted by a broken social system in childhood. (Consumerism and falling into social roles etc). This is the best explanation for #8 I've got.
https://www.reddit.com/StanleyKubrick/comments/18rdftx/comment/kf6bsi8/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
The big reveal here is #2 / #3, but what strikes me is how real the "post-second-party" scenes are. The victor pool scene is particularly realistic, there is a detailed newspaper article, etc. My only guesses to this is the girl really did die after the /first/ party, Bill went and talked to Victor, and the red pool table, tapping of pool cue and chaulk inspired the dream. Bill fever state takes the conversation about the girl dying after the first party and creates the second party. That still doesn't explain the attempt to find Nick Nightengale - but with a name like Nick Nightengale, my guess is the dude wasn't real anyway. My second explanation for the events post-second-party that seem too real is "_shrug_. It's a movie, Kubrick wanted to be true to the book. Plus having these be a little 'too' realistic to be a dream misleads the audience, who in a theatre is going to just take it at face value."
Anyway, that's my take. It has some holes in it, but I am developing some confidence in it.
Tell me how I am wrong.
UPDATE: Does anyone have any insight on the color scheme? I mean, it's blue, red, and green. Any thoughts on symbolism?

Elias scratched his spiny horn, though it never itched, it purely became a habit, during stressful situations, a sort of comfort, despite hating it. Everyone was disgusted at seeing it, sprouting from his head. How they threw stones at him, some even trying to burn him with torches, like he was a monster. At least that's what his father always told him, because of this curse he couldn't quite remember, which forced his father to have to remind him why he should never leave the forest.
No, no no, He thought, rapidly scratching his horn. Seeing the large monster lumbering towards him. It looked a lot like a chimera, a mixture of wicked and grotesque beasts. It possessed a head of a bear, tentacles sprouting from its massive back and a deadly scorpion tail. Poor Elias's knees were shaking, due to the grave aura the mighty beast was giving off. Should he run? Would it chase him if it did? Perhaps chucking stones at it would cause it to flee, but it also could enrage it.
All of this contemplating didn't help him in the slightest, his mind continued to run wild with what he should do rather than what he should be doing. The dark red fur of the monster was like blood, perhaps it was, coated from its last victim. As soon as the young boy could see the fierceness in the monster’s amber eyes. He finally realized he needed to do something. But what?
On a whim he removed himself from the bark of the tree and ran for his home. Luckily he wasn’t too far in and knew his way. But Elias didn't think about those two things. No, he was more concerned about the loud, and closer encroaching crunching noise coming from his backside, oh how the sticks cracked and broke beneath such a creature. One could mistake it for the sounds of bones snapping. The frightened boy did not turn to see the snarling face that he believed would be there, waiting to pounce and rip him apart as soon as he turned. No he continued to run, faster and faster, as the noise became louder and louder.
His home looked as if there were deserted ruins. Nature overtook the man-made cabin. Vines crawled up the sides, slowly strangling it like it wanted to drag it down into the dirt. It was on its last legs, the window shutters hung askew from its hinges and the roof was concave, like it would collapse in on itself if something heavy would fall on it. But seeing that rundown home of his was a joyous sight to behold. But right before he made it to the door and into sanctuary, his foot caught a root, tripping him in the process. He quickly flipped around, throwing his arms up, somehow thinking that would shield him from the many teeth and claws that were about to leap upon him. But strangely they never came.
After a moment of hesitation, and panicked breaths, Elias removed his hands, placing them down at his sides. With wide eyes he stared ahead, waiting for the monster to appear, but it was gone, like it was a figment of his own imagination. Tears began to swell in his eyes, believing fully that he was about to die a moment ago. Only after his nerves settled and streams of sadness left his face did the young boy stand and hobbled inside his home.
Thanks to that root, each step he took, the feeling of a bitter pain roared up from his ankle. His ankle was red and beginning to swell, but seeing no other option he persisted through the house. He noticed his father wasn’t around, most likely working hard in the basement again. There was a feeling of loneliness that always seemed to infect his heart whenever he entered the house, like his body knew something his mind didn't. His father always spent his time in the lab, at least as far as Ellies could recall. This hollowness, thankfully faded quite quickly after he paid a visit to Poppy. She was clawing at the cage, when Elias entered through the door.
He unlatched the cage and held open the door for her to exit, which she did with stride. Her appearance was strange, and her species unknown. Elias wasn’t sure exactly what kind of species it was. It had long ears like a rabbit, a lizard-like tail and a small pear shaped body. his father only ever mentioned that he created the creature one day, while working on his cure. So it had no use being classified as a specific species. She gurgled and clung to Elias’s leg with her little soft paws.
“You wouldn't believe the day I had.” Elias said, rubbing his hand through the fluffy chestnut fur that covered her skin. She began to tug at his pants leg, and then she ran to the door. “Sorry but you can't go do your business outside today. There's something bad out there.” He said, peering out of the window, looking for the whereabouts of that ghastly beast. “But don't worry.” he looked down to look at Poppy, who was currently clawing at the door, gurgling even more. “I’ll put down some rags or old clothes for you.” He smiled. She did not look pleased.
The alchemist slaved over his table, violently mashing up pits of fungus root with his mortar and pestle, muttering about formulas. It became like white noise within the room, constantly echoing across the many glass bottles and jars of varying sizes. He never ventures away from his work bench. It was important after all, if he could just find the right combination, everyone would know his name. They shall deem him the greatest Alchemist that ever lived, rather than a fester fool that wasted what little time remained.
He did not leave his work long, not even to sleep or eat, he rarely showed himself in sunlight, why would he? He had too much to do. If he didn't do it, someone else would, and he sacrificed too much to allow that to happen. He only left his dank basement for two reasons. One, to resupply his dwindling assets, and the other was to test what he had created.
Elias, who was currently humming to himself while fixing himself and Poppy food. Only when those shrill hinges screamed did his playful humming stop. “Are you hungry? Do you want me to fix you something?” He said looking over to the wild eyed man that he called father.
“No time, no time.” the alchemist stuttered. He then stumbled over towards Elias like a man with two left feet. In his hand was a small bottle with a strange elixir inside. The liquid had a foggy pink tint to it. “ Here boy drink, quickly now, quickly! Before the sediments settle.” his voice was ragged and unhinged, like his own mind unraveled like a piece of string that was unknotted.
This happened a lot, the constant drinking of various medicines his father cooked up. He remembered not having to do it so often when he was younger, but now he did it almost daily and still he was no less cured then when he begin. Elias reached for the drink but paused for a moment, his attention being stolen by poppy. She was tugging at his pants even harder. She was always stubborn, especially when it came to going outside. Eventually, He grabbed the potion and being the good boy he was he began to drink from the small glass bottle until the entirety of the liquid vanished down his throat. It was for his sake after all.
Elias could taste a slight bitterness to the drink, not overwhelmingly bad, certainly not good either, most of what he foraged for his fathers research were mushrooms, corpse flowers, and certain bugs only native to this region.
After drinking the odd mixture. His father watched with wondrous anticipation. It caused a powerful feeling to run throughout his entire body. From the tips of his toes to the point of his horn it reverberated within him, growing warm, eventually becoming a painful burning sensation. He could no longer escape this turmoil that his creator had given to him. His vision began to warp and spin. In order not to vomit, Elias had to close his eyes and hold his mouth shut, refusing to allow his body to cough the medicine up.
The Alchemist stared widely at his son as his breathing became heavy. His father began to stroke his mighty, tangled beard in delight. Was this it? Was this the right combination? The wrinkles in his face began to tighten as his mouth shifted into a giddy smile. All of his painstaking work, all of his sacrifices. Was this the day that the alchemist finally did it?
Elias’s body began to grow, noticeably like he was growing into an older version of himself. to both his and his son’s dismay. A twisted horn began to protrude from Elias shoulder causing him great pain, causing him to drop to his knees. Slowly it dug its way out from beneath the poor boy's skin. The shrieks he gave off, it was lucky they lived deep within the forest because many people would confuse the screams of Elias for a terrible murder, but in their fairness they sounded very similar.
Only when the new horn stopped growing did Elias become silent and his wet eyes opened. One of them, now jet black, both the iris and sclera were now void of color, completely dark, almost as if it wasn’t even an eyeball anymore. His vision was still slightly blurry , but he could still see his father, examining him still. His smile faded into a more serious look. “It seems I'm still far off from the right formula,” he muttered. From his pocket he pulled out a clean vial and scraped a bit of sweat that now coated his woozy son’s flesh. He returned to his subterranean laboratory to further his research, while his son is forced to figure out what exactly that potion changed within him, as well as out.
Elias sank down further to the floor, not having the strength to stand up any longer. Poppy hopped towards his face. She gurgled dreadfully and rubbed her head against Elias chest. Like she was trying to provide comfort to him. His head slowly swiveled over to the crooked horn that was stabbing out from his shoulder.
He didn't quite understand what had happened. The cloudiness in his mind felt like a dream. Am I sleeping? Thought Elias, but that couldn't be, his eyes were open. But that horn, this strange creature nuzzling him and this place… Where exactly am I? He thought before he faded away into a deep sleep.
All of his memories returned to him after he awoke, at least he thought so. There was still a strange feeling lingering in the air, most likely due to his new found deformities but the young boy paid it no mind, he still had chores to do after all.
Poppy joined him as he journeyed up stairs. The second floor only had three rooms in it, his room, his fathers room ( even if he doesn't use it much) and the third was his older sister’s room, but now it was used for storage. Elias lit the candles and began his dusting. Since his father had to much important work on his plate, it was up to him to keep the cobwebs at bay.
He first started with his father’s room, even though Poppy insisted on the storage. But the young boy never listened to his pet, he wanted to make sure as soon as his father finally completed his work, he would have a nice clean bed to sleep in. Elias hummed as he went around cleaning the shelves and de-webbing the corners of the room, Poppy watched from his bed, looking a bit down since he awoke, perhaps she was frightened by his new form, it was all for the best. His father was trying to save him. Since his mother and sister passed from the same affliction as he. He did nothing but put in every second he had into finding a cure for his son. After the first room was completed, he entered the storage room. Poppy raced in ahead of him and disappeared behind boxes. It was filled with things from their old life. The belongings of his sibling and dear mother were also stashed here, untouched. He sometimes came in here to visit them, to remember things he’s forgotten, they helped him remember them if only slightly, it was more than a feeling he got, then a past vision, a feeling of happiness and safety that they are still with him.
Poppy seemed to have perked up a bit, and began to adventure around the room. She sniffed and crawled around many old relics of the past. Elias was busy wiping clean the old wheat scythe that laid propped up against the wall. When a small chest crashed to the floor, severing the old lock on it and scattering its contents across the floor. “Poppy!” He yelled at the adorable little creature who had undoubtedly knocked it over. He couldn't stay mad at her, with a slight smile on his face , he began to clean up the mess.
As he was stacking the papers in the box, one of the books caught his eye. It was a leather bound one with a strap on the side to keep it closed. But what stole his attention was the name written on it, It was a name so familiar, so, so safe that it brought forth a bloom of the past. The Alchemist didn't mention his wife much, not after she passed, but Elias knew what his mother’s name was, it was the same one written in this journal. It seemed he would never forget that.
Opening it he discovered her hand writing, beautiful and elegant, perhaps she came from nobility, It talked about her life, Marrying his father, having her daughter and son, but after they all moved to this isolated home, her hand writing became much more scratched on then how she began her journal. It read, I don't know what's happening to me, my hair began to grow abnormally, turning scarlet red, when it was before black. I can't seem to remember my past, whenever I try to recall my parents, my mind becomes foggy. What is happening? My dear husband said it is a curse placed upon me, and says he can cure it. I hope he can, Please my beloved save me. I don't want to forget our children’s faces. He continued reading, completely until the last page written on, which read, the medicine, it's always been the medicine. What is he doing to me.
Elias wasn't sure what to make of this. Was she talking about his father? And the same medicine he takes? No it couldn't be? I just remembered. I need to leave this place quickly, with my children and escape this mad man. Her panicked scribbles abruptly ended, as if ripped away from her desk.
A New idea began to form with Elias’s troubled mind. It was true his memory was flawed, but he now could sense danger with in the house, with in his own father. The worried look upon his face grew terribly. Seeing this made Poppy excited, she jumped brightly on his shoulder. All he was concerned with now was getting out of the house.
He crept down the stairs, hoping not to stir up too much trouble. the small creaks in the steps now sounded like loud shockwaves. Before he made it to the bottom steps, His father whipped open his lair door. “Elias! I have a new mixture to try!” he yelled, searching the kitchen. When the mad man’s eyes were set on his son, he was observant enough to know something was different in the boy. He usually jumped towards him at his medicine. His eye fell down towards his hands. Elias was holding something. A book? It was hers!
He yelled again “Elias, give that here!” but that started a fire by the boy’s feet. Dashing for the door as quick as he could but his father was closer grabbed him and through him down on the wooden floor. The alchemist held his son down and pried open his mouth. “Please!” He begged his father, but he wasn't listening. The mad man poured the blue tinted liquid down his throat causing Elias to cough and choke. “That's it” his father said through gritted teeth, not leaving a drop in the vial.
Many weeks went by or maybe it was only just a few days, Elias never could tell anymore, between the constant potion trials and never changing environment surrounding him, as well as his dwindling memory, time no longer was relevant to him. The things his father asked for were becoming more and more obscure. Just last week he requested an albino toad. But that was fine, he’s trying to cure his ailment after all. He forgot all about what had transpired after he read his mother’s words. He never found that journal again.
Nowadays the wind that occasionally drifted through the trees had a strangeness to it. Perhaps the seasons were changing or a storm was encroaching, or maybe the many twisting horns that grew from the poor boy’s body played a part. He looked a lot more like a distorted porcupine, both his eyes were now pitch black and his body grew large he was now over five five feet tall. Ten years old and he was now the same height as his own father.
Ever since that first sighting, the crimson beat never returned, Although Elias could still hear its cries echo through the trees. It sounded bleak and angry, with a hint of sadness with each roar. Elias was glad it was gone, but he wondered why it vanished so suddenly before. Perhaps it was for the best. Before he knew it, somehow the very sky was black. How long was he out here? It couldn't have been an hour since he left, but that was in the morning. This happened a lot recently, how time just slips by. Elias’s mind became much more hazy, like it was filled with a constant stream of static. Sometimes he even woke up outside, unaware of how he got there.
I need to save him. That is easier said than done, everything she tried failed and he was already forgetting himself. All that bile is rotting his brain. He doesn't even remember her anymore. She was at least lucky enough to retain her intellect. Poppy gilded her paw across the bars of her cage. As she did she reminded herself that she already tried to kill that batty man, but this body that she now resided in was no more lethal than a still stone. What could I do? She paced in her cell. When Elias finally found his way home it was nightfall. He’s been coming home later and later recently. Most likely forgetting where he lived. Oh how she wished their mother was here, but she was gone too, lost forever stumbling through this forest.
The mad man barged upstairs, most likely hearing his son’s large feet scraping the floor.“Finally “ he said, ignoring his son’s tortured posture, and swiping his bag that was tangled between the ridged horn like spikes sprouting from his arms. “Give it here!” he barked, ripping it off him. He gazed upon what was inside and smiled a hellish grin. “Finally!” he shouted throughout the wilting house. He rushed back down stairs to get to work on the formula that finally do it.
Elias, sat at the chair, his mind was drifting, he usually let Poppy out of her cage but not today, he completely forgot about Poppy, just like he did when she was once his sister and just like his mother before her. Poppy saw him hanging on by a thread, she began to rush back and force, hoping he could break through the small cage. She tackled the door. It didn't budge. She did it again. It still didn't open, but the cage did move, if only slightly. It was up to her to save her little brother. She no longer had the journal to bring light to her father’s crimes, she saw it herself. He burned it, and then… wept to the sight of it. Perhaps inside he still had some semblance of how he used to be, before he became obsessed. But even so he was a monster that needed to be stopped.
To Poppy he was gone and he did too much to her and her family to ever be forgiving. She rammed against the cage again, harder this time. Beyond the short fur, her body was especially squishy, but with determination alone, she still managed to get her prison closer to the edge. One more should do it, she thought, pressing herself against the back of the cage, before charging against the front.
Her cage crashed to the ground, grabbing her younger brother’s attention. “hmm “ the nothingness of his eyes focused on the cage on the floor with the small creature inside, looking awfully dazed. After a moment, he remembered “Poppy?” he said, his voice now deep and frightening. He walked over and bent down, to open the small door. Poppy quickly regained her wits and crawled her way out.
Now that Poppy was now free, there was only one other option that she could think of at this point, it was dangerous and might not work, but it was either this or watching him slowly become someone else, worst case they all died quickly.
She ran over to the door and began to scratch at it. Elias stumbled over to let her out, as soon as he opened up, Poppy bolted past the tree line and into the forest. She ran as quickly as her small, rabbit like legs could carry her. She was determined though, to saver her brother and end her father tyranny. She needed to find their mother.
The forest that surrounded the haunting the house was vast, filled with flora and fauna a plenty, well more flora and fauna. The ripped apart corpses of deer and wolves made it seem more like a feeding den rather than a forest floor. Despite her many warning signs to turn back the small creature persisted.
A teeth shaking roar lured her closer. She hopped atop a low hanging branch to get a better view and that's where she saw her, the crimson beast. It was over top of a large bear, gorging on its abundance of flesh. Poppy’s heart raced at the sight of her. Of all this time she never caught a glimpse. She remembered he slowly changed into the ravenous monster she now witnessed. She wished she could have realized sooner, cursing herself for being so naive. To think her father wanted only to destroy, rather than heal their mother. Poppy took her small paws and slapped her bouncy cheeks, she couldn't think of that right now. If mother was still inside that beast of gory red, she needed to find her. She hopped down from the branch and approached her.
Poppy’s first words were supposed to be mother, but the only thing that came out of her mouth was a purring, gurgling sound. It must have been loud enough because she stopped eating the bloody meat she scooped out from the bear’s remains. Eying the small creature before her, the beast growled as she turned around to face her new prey.
Mother, please! Its Elias, you need to help, she tried desperately to plead with her, but her voice was gone, and her mother didn't even recognize her. Her new body came with new instincts as well, ones to sense danger. These alarms were screaming at her right now to run, but all she wanted to do was cry, to let whatever happen happen, but when she thought of her poor younger brother still being subjected to those horrid experiments…
Poppy turned around and wiggled her rump towards the maddening beast This way mother, she thought before taking off towards their once warm home. Her little butt wag worked a little too well, as the crimson beast that was soaked in blood was right on her heels, the only thing that slowed her down just short of getting her were the abundance of foliage and stone, she swiftly glided through. The sound of small trees breaking and the pounding of her large claws against the soil filled the air, like it was a dust cloud moving across a plain.
When Poppy finally made it into their yard. She was panting heavily and her eyes were focused on her mother who halted her pursuit at the tree line. refusing to step any closer, she remained just beyond the clearing, still growling, no longer at Poppy, but at the house itself. The beady eyes of hers stared at the looming house like it was about to grab her and pull her closer. Her daughter noticed this, this must mean she still had a bit of her former self within her. She at least hoped so. What could she do to get her closer, to remind her of who she really was? That's when an idea struck her like lightning.
The alchemist toiled in his laboratory. Every concoction he mixed turned into was a complete failure. What was he missing? His son’s withering mental state was also costing him valuable and much needed resources. Elias was out there for hours and yet he only procured enough supplies to hold in one palm. He stopped thinking about what to do about his gathering issues. He was too focused on his latest feat. This one for sure! It had to do it. Eternal youth, that's what it will bring, for both his name and mankind.
When his father made his way up those shaky steps. He found his son holding a broom in the other room, staring blankly at the cold fireplace. The same fireplace where they once shared memories together and the same place where he had burned his wife’s journal. “Elias, I believe I have done it this time. Your cure. Try it!” he said, handing over the potion. His son slowly turned his head to face him. The mind was all but absent from this task now, it was merely instinct at this point. He had done this so many times that it had been ingrained into his very muscle. He removed one of his hands from the broom handle, showing off that they had changed too. Instead of five fingers he was born to, he now had three large ones, like the extra two were absorbed by the others.
He slowly brought the potion to his lips, but before it could reach his mouth and fall down his throat, Poppy came bursting through the window and knocked the elixir from Elias's mangle hand. The glass vial smashed into pieces, spilling the bubbling mixture everywhere. “You! What have you done!” He had said to his former daughter, as he clutched his head in frustration. To make matters worse she taunted the grief stricken man. Wagging her dairy air at him, much like she did with her mother. Things were dire and she needed him to follow him and boy did he ever.
He let out another anger-filled growl as he barreled towards Poppy, but thanks to her agility and small frame, she easily maneuvered around him, much like a mouse. She jumped through the same window she entered from. The alchemist raced out the door, after her. But when he did He saw something he preyed on never to see again, his wife’s angry face staring back at him. “M- Mar” he began, but soon went cold. Like Poppy hoped for, the beast removed herself from the safety of the trees, her eyes firmly set on the demented man that cursed her and all her kids. All of the anger she felt, that festered inside of her heart, finally remembered the object of her hatred.
Elias watched his father and his pet chaotically dash around the room. It didn't dawn on him until the two took their chase outside, that he had dropped his medicine. He stared down at the liquid that was now spread across the floor. Perhaps it was still good? His father did seem sure of himself with this one. He slowly fell to his knees and began to drink up as much as he could.
The scorned mother stumped towards The alchemist, growling and roaring. It was like she was trying to yell at him, to curse his name. The old fool tripped backwards as she approached “Ma- Ma- Martha” he said quickly “ I am doing this for everyone’s sack, humanities, imagine how far our kind will expand, if we no longer aged.” he pleaded, hoping she could still understand him. In his eyes he was a saint, a man willing to sacrifice anything to better the world. But to everyone else, he was a twisted mad man bending morality to his design. A foolish man playing god.
Martha seemed to want to hear him out, or perhaps she liked seeing him in this panicked state. She bent her face down and bared her massive teeth inching them ever closer to her husband's pale face. He crawled backwards until he felt something hard behind him. It was the steps of the house. his eyes were large and shaky as he stared down her vengeful eyes. He was so close, so very close, he could feel it. And yet it was gonna end here, his work unfinished, his name forgotten. “No!” He refused to let that happen. He found a nearby branch and pointed at his former wife.
Poppy sat on the side lines, watching the miserable man stumble and crawl away from her mother. She couldn't help but to feel happy, maybe even a little bit satisfied with her action, but in the chaos she forgot to check up with Elias. When she ran back inside she found a horrific scene. Elias was licking the remains of the potion up. Poppy tried to stop him but it was too late, the potion was already taking effect.
The three fingered hands grew more claw-like, much like a mole’s, his jaw began to grow wider, creating a large underbite, revealing sharpened teeth, and his two large blackened eyes became one. When Elias, the cyclops saw Poppy he yelped, frightened at seeing her. His vocal cords seemed to only give off loud aching sounds when he tried to speak. Even he was surprised at this, clutching at his neck. Poppy yelped and gurgled trying to make him calm down. In his new form. She contemplated doing a little dance or rolling over to better soothe him, luckily he seemed to have settled. Until a mighty roar shook the house. Elias, curled up clutching his ears tightly.
The alchemist stormed into the house, only pausing at seeing what became of his son, his face grew more irritated then frightened. It didn't work, he thought for sure it would have worked! Did the roots already? He completely forgot about the monster he was running from, until she made herself known again.
Martha crashed through the wall right behind her husband, barely missing him with her sharp, poisonous tail. He dashed for his beloved basement door but she did not pursue him. She froze just like her husband did at the sight of her son. It wasn't to figure out some god foreskin mixture that would probably never grow fruit of eternal youth. No, it was of a mother gazing upon her son, her once beautiful child that looked so sweet and innocent, now a monster. She saw Poppy trying to comfort the scared little boy she gave birth to. Martha looked back over to the closed basement door, the alchemist’s sanctuary, his room of evil.
She could have easily tore it to pieces and gotten to him, but… should she? Death could be a blessing, for a man that lost his mind, that would be constantly tormented with his desire to achieve greatness. Perhaps a lifetime of obsession and loneliness was a suited punishment for a man that brought rot to their once happy family. So that's where she left him, toiling his days away in his own creation. While she took her kids, and tried to pick up what remains of themselves and start their new lives together.

When the universe began 0 was the only one 0 is not good or evil,Then 1 appeared 1 is only good,Then 2 appeared 2 is good and evil,0 and 2 fell in love,2 gave birth to Afiniti,Afiniti was good and evil and not good and evil.Afiniti hated the world and wanted to destroy it and left Eternity the god world and became a beast known as Typhus,Typhus hibernates during the spring and summer and lives in a hole filled with dried melted gold in the volcano known as Kovid mountain.After stealing the white heart he headed to Spruceville because being a god he picked up 0s message that the chosen one is in Spruceville and planned to destroy the entire town.Typhus appeared in the sky next to the Rock,Chaos transformed into a flying eye with triangles swirling around it.Chaos trapped Freeze in a bubble that chained her wrists and ankles to the bubble to be safe and pushed her off the Rock, Freeze Princess fell into the Deathly Forest.Then Rock fell from the sky in front of the Freeze Princess who had just been freed from the bubble,Rock was being frozen but before Rock fully froze it told Freeze Princess “Atlas isn't the chosen one,Your father didn't die he left your mother and remarried then his wife gave birth to your half sister,You must go to Little wizards daycare and find her she is a white 4 year old girl and will be the most famous wizard of all time”Rock froze up into a statue.Princess Freeze walked along the path when suddenly tree branch grabbed her arm and a bush brand grabbed her foot, She ran down the forest path when squirrels with red eyes grabbed her legs and started biting the suit,She shook them off and started running faster and owls started chasing her.Then as she ran through she saw a black house with a yellow light and ran inside, When she walked in she saw a white elderly woman wearing a blanket fabric dress with grey hair.The Freeze Princess tapped on the rusty dented bell several times,The lady who was sitting in a rocking chair in front of an old heavily scratched and cut desk with a caged lamp on it woke up“Welcome to the hotel for lost travellers in the Deathly Forest. This hotel is completely free, your room is whatever you like, we don't get many people here”.Princess Freeze walked up the stairs after taking three steps. The third step broke,After that she hurried up the stairs into the first bedroom and closed the door.The room had a fireplace,An iron bed,A couch,Freeze Princess had never felt warm fire before so she took off the suit,At first she was too scared to light the fire and was worried about all the bad things that would happen if she did light the fire,Then after much hesitation she took a match and lit the wood,At first she felt a strange tingle like the heat was battling the cold she could feel the warmth warming her heart,She pulled up a couch and sat staring at the waving orange flames and after 30 minutes she climbed into bed.Hours later a tree started tapping on the window,Then started banging,Then the window cracked,Then broke,The tree hands grabbed Freeze Princess,Freeze Princess screamed “Help” “Help”The lady grabbed her sword and ran upstairs,With her sword the Lady chopped the trees arms off,Freeze Princess fell to the floor then got up,The lady looked at princess freeze the Lady said: “Why do you sleep in your clothes?” Freeze said: “This is the only thing i've ever worn” The Lady said:“come with me”.Freeze followed her downstairs,Lady went into a closet and took out,A white nightgown,A red dress,Blue jeans,A black leather jacket,Yellow shorts,A sun hat,A sweater,A sword,30 Rooples,After getting the objects Freeze turned back,The Lady said: “Wait” what is your name, “My name is Freeze” “Well that isn't really a name, What about a new one, What about Amber do you like that?”Then Amber walked up to her room, Put on her nightgown then got into bed.Next morning Amber walked downstairs and asked if there was a shower,The Lady said there is a hot spring out back.Amber opened the door and walked into the dew filled misty cool morning,She walked over to the sparkling spring in the back of the building, And stepped into the bath,Then she turned on the bubble tap put her head back and looked at the sunlight glistening through the trees and breathed the pine air.Amber got out after 10 minutes and put on her jeans and leather jacket,The Lady gave her a bag to store all her things.Amber left walking down the road of sticks and leaves.The forest is nocturnal during the day so the Deathly Forest is safe now.As Amber was walking down the trail a unicorn with rainbow hair appeared,Amber got on the unicorn and and ran through the the beautiful Deathly Forest.Amber rode to a hair salon,Amber went up to the desk of the neat well kept hair place and asked for a haircut,Barb a black barber woman cut of the long parts of hair down her head and dyed the front of the hair blue.When Amber walked out she was a new woman,No longer a princess.After that Amber got on the unicorn and rode off, The unicorn let out a beautiful neigh, A neigh that sounds like beautiful singing,The unicorns hair sparkled like glitter against the sunlight.Upon reaching the end of the Deathly Forest Amber saw a restaurant,Amber pulled over at the restaurant,Tied her unicorn up to a post and walked through the saloon style doors,Amber walked to the counter sat down on a bench and ordered two fried slizzles and a coffee.While that was happening Typhus flew into town blasting fire at the entrance,Which caused the town to go on high alert,The guards in towers started ringing lthe gongs and the entire army ran out but as they stared into the snakes eyes they all turned to stone,Then Typhus turned his fingers into snakes and ripped out the buildings beside him with both hands,Then used the buildings to destroy other structures.1 year ago 4 month old Emelia's mother pushed the stroller onto the Little wizards daycare train,She strapped Emelia into her booster seat,Then the train took off from the station and magically drove under the ground.The children were served as many floating rice puffs and dissolving chewy drinks as they could eat,Eventually they flew out of the dirt and stopped at the daycare.The boosters then flew into the daycare entrance,They were then fitted for uniforms and served a puree feast for dinner after they finished eating they were put to bed in their cribs for the night.In morning they were given their plastic beginner wands with a glowing light on the tip.At the daycare they play with rattles with floating magic dust inside and dolls that are alive and can realistically interact with them,And are told stories about wizards like them.Atlas was sleeping in his bed of sticks when typhus attacked,All of a sudden a bell tower was thrown at Atlas home, But suddenly invisible armour known as plot armour saved him.After laying some waste on Spruceville Typhus announced that he is going to find the armour of Achilles.Amber finished her breakfast,Amber untied her unicorn and rode down a field of beautiful daisies down to Belle Station.King Korvid was a terrible ruler,He forced all children to go to schools that brainwashed them and forced them to obey the darkness king.Every mistake the children made would lead to abuse,They were only given small amounts of food,And any sickness and injury was left untreated,They slept on the floor without beds in rooms filled with rats and mould and dirt and none of the rooms were heated,They were told they were worthless and would never do anything great and that they would forever be a slave to the Darkness King.Kovid stole money from everyone and never paid them,He lived on Korvid mountain far from Spruceville,King Korvid thought that no one could ever get to him.One day a man brought together a group of 8 Wizards,2 large men in heavy armour,2 Knights on horses,2 Bishops,The King of Hydrogen,The Hydro Queen and 2 hydrogen dragons.So then the adventure started,They moved across the land for days until they arrived.The leader Barren was a tall man with long hair and a muscular body wearing gold and silver chest armour and knee armour and wearing any shoe you want said “King Korvid today my fear echoes and yours dies”,Korvid walked to the deck and blew his battle horn,Korvids army assembled in front of the mountain,One wizard stepped out,A horse stepped close to him,The wizard walked up to the horse,A guard walked up behind the wizard,A guard stepped out from his spot,A heavily armed guard walked up behind the wizard,A soldier walked a few steps from his spot,A wizard walked a few steps,A knight moved through the rows,A wizard walked up to a wizard,The Queen walked forward,The heavily armoured guard walked up to a wizard,The Queen stepped to the front of the army,A wizard walked behind a wizard,A wizard stepped closer to the army,A knight on a horse walked up to the heavily armoured guard,The horse walked to a wizard,The Queen walked close to the rebel group and killed a wizard,A wizard walked up to a knight on a horse,A horse killed a heavily armoured guard,A wizard walked over and killed a soldier,A knight on a horse killed a soldier,A horrified Queen ran back to the back of the army,A wizard killed a soldier,The queen went over a killed a soldier on a horse,A wizard walked over and stood in front of the shivering Queen Hydro,A bishop came and killed a wizard,The Hydrogen King was so scared he killed a bishop,The Queen was scared so she walked back a couple steps,A wizard killed a soldier in front of King Kovid so he killed the wizard,A bishop ran to kill the Queen but the Queen killed her,The King and Queen of Hydrogen were really scared so they hugged each other in fear,The wizard in front of the Queen of Hydro ran to kill the Queen but the Queen killed her,The knight on a horse stood in front of the Queen Hydro,A horse stood next to the Queen Hydro,The Queen Hydro took her husband's sword and killed the horse,The bishop killed the knight on the horse,A bishop killed a bishop,The Queen killed a bishop and Kovid killed the King of Hydrogen,The Hydro Queen hyperventilating in shock trudged over to Barren and yelled where were you in all this, “I was too scared” said Barren, “ You could have saved my husband” said Anna the Hydrogen Queen.In a flurry of anger using the power of the of the sword,She sped to the centre of the battlefield and ran towards Korvid,King Korvid realising the danger his wife was in took Sarah the Darkness Queen,Into the mountain,But as he was being magically elevated he threw his wife into a secret safe hole in the wall,Korvid prepared to face off against Anna.Anna holding the sword of sol swung her sword the same time as Korvid and destroyed Korvids sword with one hit of the shimmering blade,Anna walked closer to Korvid So Korvid fired his wrist arrows several times but Anna swung her sword around dodging all the arrows,Anna pointed the sword of sol in front of Korvid ordering him to surrender.The king was arrested and chained to a mineral,A man walked toward Korvid but before he did anything he announced he had bludgeoned the Queen of Hydro and stolen the sword of sol and forged it into the highest rock in the highland of lighting,Then using his wand started chanting a spell,The mineral lit up glowing brighter and brighter,Then he raised his sword and chopped off Kovids head and the heads of the entire army and pushed them onto the mineral,He stopped chanting which absorbed all the bodies into the mineral,Queen Sally stood at the edge of the castle and jumped off falling to her death,Then the last living wizard asked the man “Who are you” the man said I am Korvids brother,The wizard flashed a light from his wand causing Korvid to completely disappear,Then the wizard realised that the mineral was shaped like a heart then looked up and saw a heart carved into the mountain.

Part Four: The Forge of Darkness
Chapter 16
Location: On the way to the next Azathanai settlement.
POV: Arathan
Draconus and Arathan are riding side by side. Draconus is trying to impart some of his wisdom to his son. He says belief is like an iron stake set into the ground. As long as the ground remains firm, nothing can move it. Arathan doesn't respond and Draconus says that all fathers fail to give their wisdom to their children. It is the nature of youth. Arathan says he has no beliefs, no anchor, and can be blown about by the wind. Draconus says he believes Arathan seeks his mother. Arathan says he can't seek what he doesn't know. Draconus responds that he will still try and if he finds what he seeks he will be disappointed. Thus he will have learned nothing from his father. Arathan asks why he sent her away. Draconus says out of love. Arathan responds that that makes no sense and that Draconus has no wisdom to give. His father asks if this is how he baited Sagander. Arathan says he never baited him. Draconus says every word is a weapon to Arathan and it worked on Sagander since he thought Arathan no more than a child. But if he continues with real people, he'll be known as dissembling and treacherous. Arathan says he doesn't dissemble. Draconus responds that when he pretends to not understand the wounds he delivers it is dissembling. Arathan asks if he always sends away those he loves.
Draconus cuts him off and continues to talk about belief. Saying that it creates goals and you can spend your life fulfilling those, and still end up in the same place, old and broken. He says he's trying to warn Arathan. He thinks strife is coming and will go beyond the borders of Kurald Galain. He says Mother Dark was also young when he gave her his gift and she is on a path of belief that makes her think the direction is forward. Arathan asks if he gives love as his gift and then steps back to see if the recipient is worthy. Draconus says his gift wasn't love, but power. Arathan responds that power should never be given. A gift becomes an expectation. Draconus says the gifts he gives he seems to carve from his own flesh. Arathan says the wisdom he has gained from his father wasn't the wisdom intended and that is indeed a precious gift. Draconus says he begins to pity Sagander and not because of the leg. Arathan said Sagander's iron stakes were set long ago. He will never change. Draconus says Arathan is quick to judge. Arathan says he expects to never see Sagander again. Draconus wonders if he has wronged the tutor as Arathan is not easy company.
Draconus points out a house. It seemed to Arathan to not have been there before. He asks if it was conjured. Draconus says more like suggested. Arathan says that belief seems to be more important than discussed. Draconus responds that he never said belief didn't have power, just dubious charms and it reinforces intractability. Arathan surmises that belief is required for sorcery, so sorcery cannot be examined too closely or it wouldn't exist. Draconus tells Arathan, ‘With each day, son, I see you grow more formidable.’ Arathan is startled by this and regrets his brutal words to his father as if he knew anything about love. All he understood was possession and he regrets treating Feren the way he did. He says he but flails with weapons too large to hold. Draconus says they all do.
A man climbs out of the window of the house. Not much older than Arathan. His clothes are bloodstained. Father and son dismount and approach the house. The Azathanai comes forward and wears a mocking smile for Draconus. Arathan fantasizes about punching that smile off of his face. The Azathanai snaps his gaze to Arathan and asks if he wouldn't rather kiss it off of him. Draconus tells his son to yield nothing to this man. The ground shifts beneath him. Errastas says that his gift is ready. Draconus says he didn't know it would be him who made it. He wants whatever binds them together to be done with. He says hand it over. Draconus asks about the blood stains. Errastas says making the gift was difficult. Draconus says it shouldn't require blood. Arathan senses the growing tension and decides he does not like Errastas. Errastas holds out a small black disc slightly larger than his palm and says, ‘Behold, Suzerain, the folding of Night.’ Draconus demands it. Errastas asks if he understands the precedent of this object and that maybe he is blinded by love. Draconus grabs the disc out of his hand.
Errastas says Draconus requesting and him making this object will change things. ‘Our kin who kneel before the Azath, and so make deities of insensate stone, will find new assurance in what they worship, because like it or not, we have made true their faith. Power will find those places now.' Draconus asks if the gift is singular. Errastas says yes. Draconus says if he has deceived him, he will hunt him down. Errastas says he hasn't made anymore. The ordeal was too great. Draconus looks up and understands. At that moment Errastas disappears. Wounded Draconus says 'Karish'.
Arathan tells him his gift to Mother Dark is soaked in blood and Errastas enjoyed it and likes the power that comes from it. He will do it again. Draconus says Mother Dark will make the gift pure. Once it unfolds it will scour that poison from it. Arathan comments that he's not going to tell her the cost of the gift is he. Draconus asks if Arathan will hold this truth over him. Arathan shakes his head. He says Kurald Galain, Mother Dark, and his father are not for him. He would scrub the secret from his mind if he could and if Errastas could read his thoughts now, he might have cause to fear. Draconus tells him he is not ready to hunt Errastas. Someone else does, but he doesn't know who. Arathan doesn't trust this answer and wants to know who lived in that house. He would know more of Errastas's psychology. Draconus tells him to leave it. Arathan asks if he will lie to the Lord of Hate as well. Draconus mounts his horse and doesn't answer. Arathan follows.
Arathan's image of his father now shrinks in his mind. He broke the women he loved and feared getting broken by Mother Dark. He was only her consort. He built an army of Houseblades and is now beset on all sides by enemies. He did not give Mother Dark a gift of love, but one of power. He didn't understand love as well as Arathan thought. Arathan wonders if his father had loved Karish once and if the blood of one lover would feed another. In the days past he would have rode beside his father and spoken to him. Now he just wanted to be alone. He thinks about Feren and how she will raise their child. If he was older or his father wasn't so formidable, he would have defied him. He vows to one day return to Feren and find a world for their child that did not feed on blood.
Location: Close to the Jaghut city Omtose Phelack.
POV: Korya
As they make their way to the city, Haut does his best to avoid the towers that may be inhabited. There was no evidence of industry, or farming, or manufacture. Korya isn't sure how these Jaghut had survived. Korya is exhausted. Haut continues to walk and makes no effort to engage Korya. He heads straight for a square tower, so Korya assumes it must be uninhabited. She longs for Kurald Galain. Haut tells Korya they will sleep in the tower as there will be rain. Korya looks up at the cloudless sky. Haut asks if she will doubt him in all things. She says, ‘I trust, that was rhetorical.’ He points to what appears to be a dead tree and says that's ilbarea and for Korya to gather it's leaves. She asks why. He says, ‘I see that you are in discomfort and ill-humour and so would remedy that. Not as much for your sake as for mine, since I have no desire to dodge barbs all night.’ She says they are questions, not barbs. She says she thought they were hunting murderers, but instead they just walk and walk and get nowhere.
She tells him the leaves will make a wretched tea. He says yes it would. He tells her there is wood behind the tower and to build a fire. He has wine. He says she will thank him for it once her mood improves. She tells him not to hold his breath. He says he gave her too much shelter and she can't thrive in the wild. She says this isn't wild. It's collapsed civilization. He agrees. She asks if he would argue with a woman. He says she is correct she is a child no longer. She wanted to dislike him, but she couldn't. They continue their debate on civilization. She is surprised to see new shoots of leaves on the tree. They looked just as dead as the rest of the tree. She says the tree is ridiculous. Haut says death is it's disguise. She says, 'I wonder, if I am to be a mahybe, a vessel to be filled, why fill it with mundane tasks and seething frustration?’ He says he wants her to have basic skills in this world. She goes behind the tower to gather the wood and finds a deep hole. She's not sure what it's for, but grabs the wood and starts a fire. Haut pulls out 3 goblets and sets them down in a row.
Korya hears a sound from the tower and sees a Jaghut standing in the doorway. He was taller than Haut and had an old and savage scar diagonally across his face. He wore only a loincloth that did not cover all of his manhood. The newcomer says he kills trespassers. Haut responds, ‘We shall warn any who come near. Korya Delath, this is Varandas. I thought he was dead.’ Varandas responds, 'Hoped, I'm sure.' Varandas sees death in their fire. Haut tells him to join them for a drink. Varandas says Korya is too young to drink. Haut says, ‘She has known wine from her mother’s tit.’ Haut tells him to open the bottle. He asks if Haut's hands are still so useless. Korya snorts. Varandas says that's the laugh of a woman. Haut tells him that she is Tiste and could be a thousand years old and he wouldn't know it. He may be useless with his hands, but he points out Varandas's stupidity. Varandas responds that he wrote a treatise about his stupidity, but that no one has read it.
He pours the three goblets to their rims. Haut asks why. Varandas says so they can marvel at the perfection of his measure. Haut says, '‘I fear Korya was able to gauge that some time ago.’ Verandas says, ‘Oh?’ Haut finishes, ‘Your diaper is too small, Varandas.’ He says that's a matter of opinion and he'll not hide his famous prowess. He tells Korya to drink first. Korya says as far as she knows her mother's tit contained no wine and she isn't responsible for what Haut says. Varandas says her mood is foul. He asks how Haut puts up with it. Haut says he usually hides, but in present circumstances that is difficult. He says he has a solution though and pulls out his pipe. He says ilbarea leaves from Varandas's tree. Varandas says, ‘Oh? I thought it was dead.’
POV: Haut
Haut frowns and picks up the pipe that had fallen from Korya's hand. He sniffs the bowl and his head snaps back. He asks Varandas how long the leaves had been ripening on the vine. Varandas says decades or centuries. He never picks them. He asks Haut why he asks such difficult questions. Does he delight in pointing out his stupidity. It makes him want to fight. Haut says hopefully she wakes up tomorrow refreshed and full of vigor. Varandas says maybe the day after or the day after that. In any case her attitude no longer bothers them, so it's a win. Haut says the bottle is empty and he's no longer hungry. Varandas tells him they must walk to the back of the tower and that they have things to discuss. Haut throws a blanket over Korya as they walk past.
They stand at the edge of the hole and look down into the darkness. Haut says he fears for Hood. Varandas says he fears the precedent, ‘An Azathanai now truly stands apart, and would make a bold claim to godhood.’ Haut asks what is to be done. Varandas says, everyone is asking that except Hood who is chained up by the Lord of Hate. It was deemed an act of compassion. They now all await Hood's word. Varandas says he will listen to Hood and, "give him the openness of my judgement until I can weigh his words.’ Haut says that's honorable and wonders how many more will join Varandas in this. Varandas says a handful. He asks what Haut will do. Haut tells him that Korya is a Mahybe. Varandas says that it is unprecedented and bold. He asks Haut what he thinks of the hole. Haut asks Varandas how he came by it. Varandas has no idea.
Location: An unknown Jaghut tower
POV: Sechul Lath
Errastas is watching Sechul pull rocks from some rubble. Some of them are still blistering hot and he cursed whenever he touched one. Errastas talks about the worship of stone and it's longevity. He was arranging broken slate tiles in stacks. Errastas says that worshippers of stone claimed that the buildings grew by themselves into massive towers. In different places the towers were different. Some of wood like the Tiste would make, some of huts like the Dog-Runners. Sechul rolls aside a large boulder and studies the hole underneath. He continues to make the hole bigger by moving rocks. Errastas says these buildings are called Azath and that is how the Tiste name the Azathanai even though not all of them worship stone. Sechul says Errastas seems to have won the argument. Errastas says, ‘Not even a Jaghut tower could withstand half a hill of earth and rock descending on it.’ Sechul thought of the terrible sorcery Errastas had unleashed. He says this could begin a war. Errastas says he has purpose. Murder may seem like madness, but the table he sets, 'will see multitudes gathering to the feast, dear brother of mine.’ Sechul corrects him and says half-brother. Sechul asks if they will thank him. Errastas says he doesn't care. It only matters that they will feast.
Sechul stands away from the hole and stretches. Errastas goes in and comes out with the crushed body of whatever Jaghut had lived in this tower. Errastas says, ‘I felt his death, like a hand on my cock.’ Sechul looks away in disgust at the sky. He notices that there are no searchers. Errastas says they have time. ‘K’rul gropes. He has not yet seen our faces. He does not yet know his quarry.’ Sechul says he won't welcome K'rul's discovery and that he's already tired of running. Errastas says their flight is about to get more frenzied. Draconus comprehended what he had done at the end of their meeting and he now goes to the Lord of Hate. Errastas wonders if he will confess his role in the first murder. Sechul says that if he doesn't he will make the Lord of Hate his enemy. Errastas says, ‘Do you not relish the thought of those two locked in battle? Mountains would break asunder, and seas rise to inundate half the world.’ Sechul says it's just as likely that they ally and seek out K'rul and then all three will chase them. Errastas says he doesn't think so. The Lord of Hate is unlikely to care about his murdered kin and Draconus has to get back to his precious Mother Dark.
Errastas pushes a piece of slate tile into a wound on the Jaghut's body. ‘There is no ritual beyond repetition and a chosen sequence, yet we deem ritual to be a vital component to sorcery. Well, this new sorcery, that is. Of course, ritual does not create magic – all we do with ritual is comfort ourselves.’ Sechul asks if Errastas can keep hiding them. Errastas says no. They must flee Azathanai and Jaghut lands. Sechul asks if it will go to the Jheck or he Dog-Runners. Not the Thel Akai certainly. Errastas says they must cross the sea so they don't share any borders with the Azathanai. Sechul says, ‘Whither fled Mael? He will not welcome us.’ Errastas says no. Beyond this realm, even. Sechul asks the High Kingdom? Their borders are closed to Azathanai. Errastas says they must find a way to bargain themselves in. There must be good reason why the King is so beloved among his people. Let us make this our next adventure, and discover all the hidden truths of the High Kingdom and its perfect liege.’
Sechul sees Errastas continue to put tiles in the Jaghut's wounds and arcane symbols begin to form on them. He asks Errastas where all that earth and rock came from. Errastas says no idea.
Location: Varandas's Tower
POV: Korya
Korya awakes to the sound of rain on stone in an unfamiliar place with the smell of animals. She struggles to find her memory and sits up. Varandas is at a table working on something. Haut is nowhere to be seen. She finally remembers smoking the leaves and then nothing else. She asks where Haut is. Varandas says out, why? Korya says she will kill him. Varandas says get in line and that Haut meant no harm. She allows that it was a good night's sleep. Varandas says and a day. He muses about oblivion and how some people like it. Korya says she didn't think it possible that Haut was exceptional among the Jaghut, but listening to Varandas she must rethink that. Varandas agrees and asks if Haut had told her why the Lord of Hate is called that. She says no and leaves to pee. On the way out she sees what he is working on and asks what he's doing. He says he's playing with dolls. Why? Korya says she recognizes them. Varandas says, ‘Of course you do. Your master bought a dozen for you the week you came into his care. I make them.’
She begins to cry and rushes out the door. 'Korya lifted her face to the sky. Oh, goddess, they were not your children after all.' At the doorway Varandas says, ‘He deems you his last hope.’ He says Karish's killer set them on the path and Varandas wonders if it was Korya and not Haut. Korya says that no one knows she exists. She's not important. Varandas tells her that being she is the only Tiste to live among the Jaghut that she is the topic of debate among the Jaghut and the Azathanai both. She asks why. Varandas says, ‘He has made a sorcery for you—’ She says who Haut? She is but his made, cook, and slave. Varandas says, no not Haut, Draconus. She says she's never even met him. Varandas says by you I mean the Tiste. Draconus has given the Tiste the sorcery of Darkness. 'They saw the precedent of the Suzerain’s manipulation of power. By the path you were set upon, there at the Spar, you were mocked. Draconus was too patient. Mother Dark is lost within his gift to her. The Tiste are blind to their own power.’ She says she didn't know cooking and cleaning could awaken sorcery.
Varandas says the greatest gift of education is not learning facts, but learning how to live in society in a safe environment. When this is lost, the civilization is in trouble. She says the Jaghut are obsessed with civilization, but you threw it away! He responds, ‘We rejected civilization, but so too we rejected anarchy for its petty belligerence and the weakness of thought it announced. By these decisions, we made ourselves lost and bereft of purpose.’ She says that every Jaghut must live in despair. Varandas says they would if not for the Lord of Hate. She says he's the cause of it all. Varandas says she is right and in so doing took all of their despair and hate and called it his penance. Korya says she does not understand Jaghut.
She asks where Haut is. He tells her he is on the roof watching the battle. She says what battle? He says they can't tell in this rain, but tomorrow Haut will take her to the Lord of Hate. She says, ‘What for? Another lesson in humility?’ He responds, ‘Oh, an interesting thought. Do you think it is possible?’. She frowns and asks if Haut can see down here. She still has to pee. He says no and that he is to blame for boring him with talk of his dolls. He says, 'They please me immensely, you see, and soon I will set them free to find their own way in the world.’ Korya says she locked hers away. Varandas asks why? She shrugs and says maybe to keep watch over her childhood. He says that is a worthy post, but hopefully not forever as we all deserve our freedom eventually. She wondered if he was mad and asked him when he would set his free. He says they need to wake up first. She thinks that he is definitely mad. ‘Skin and flesh, blood and bone,’ Varandas said, ‘sticks and twine, leather and straw are all but traps for a wandering soul. The skill lies in the delicacy of the snare, but every doll is temporary. My art, mahybe, is one of soul-shifting. My latest dolls will seek out a rare, winged rock ape native to the old crags of a desert far to the south. I name this series Nacht.’
She asks what he named the ones he gave to her. He says Bolead, but he thinks he made too many and they were flawed, but creation involves risk. 'what is done is done, and by these words one can dismiss all manner of idiocy and atrocity. I utter the epigraph of tyrants without irony, are you not impressed?’ She says very and moves around the tower out of his sight. A tower erupts almost directly below her. Varandas tells her not to go far. She finally crouches down to pee and another concussion sounds. Varandas tells her to hurry as the argument approaches. She finishes and gets back to the doorway. She heard loud thumping as if a giant was walking up the hill. Haut was at the doorway with Varandas. He had put on his armor and held his axe. A massive shape was coming directly for them. Haut yelled Ware. The figure halts and looks up. Varandas tells the Azathanai that he lives here and has guests and that the Azathanai is not one of them. 'Begone, unless you would see Captain Haut displeased unto violence.’ The figure stopped, but Korya thought she heard sniffles. Varandas tells the Azathanai that he understands it is angry at being forced out of the valley and wounded, but there are plenty of unoccupied towers to unleash it's anger on. The giant shuffles away through the rain.
Korya says, ‘Your name alone scared off a giant who’s been knocking down towers with his fists,’ Haut says her, her fists. Varandas says he will make a fire and that Korya can thank Haut for fending off Kilmandaros. She asks who drove her from the valley? Haut says he should be commended for his courage in twice standing fast before a woman's fury in the last couple of days. As for who forced her out, he thinks they will find out soon. Korya notices something small dart out of the tower like a hare. She asks Haut what it was. Haut sighed. ‘Varandas has been playing with dolls again, hasn’t he?’
POV: Arathan
Arathan and Draconus rode through a city of several Jaghut towers. It began to rain heavily and visibility reduced to mere feet in front of him. He could only barely see his father's form. Hellar slowed down as the ground became treacherous. Arathan fought the desire to slip away and explore this strange place. Ahead he sees Draconus dismount and lead Calaras through the doorway of a tower. He goes to do the same, but as he dismounts he feels a presence nearby. A woman larger than even Grizzin Farl stomps into view. She had no weapons or armor. She reached out to pull the strap of his helm bringing him closer to her. She lifts him in the air and looks at him. Before he begins to choke she puts him down and walks past him into the tower. Neck and back hurting he follows her with his mounts. Draconus looks up. The giant says, ‘Of all your spawn, Suzerain, I sensed no madness in this one. I trust you killed all the others.'
Draconus names her Kilmandaros and says she is far from home. She says no one ever visits for long. She asks if Arathan is awakened. Draconus says no and yes. She comments, 'Then you did not save him for me.' Draconus says they encountered her husband on the way. She says probably her son and his wretched friend too, who did what you asked of him. Draconus turns to Arathan and tells him to build a fire. Draconus says they also encountered her sister in spirit. Kilmandaros says hopefully the Forulkan will determine that they are entitled to Dog-Runner land and then Olar Ethil and her can be at war again. Draconus asks if she would sacrifice her followers. She says what else are they good for. 'Besides, the Forulkan do not worship me. They have made illimitable law their god, even as they suffer its ceaseless corruption at their own hands'. Draconus says that's foolish and ‘I am told that there are Jaghut among the Dog-Runners now, assuming thrones of godhood and tyranny.'
Naked she stalks around Arathan and grabs his crotch from behind. Draconus tells her to stop. She says she knows his desires and would satisfy them. Draconus need not be involved. Draconus says he has words to drive her away. She asks Arathan what he thinks. Arathan tells her she may well be the goddess of love. Kilmandaros says she will have him tonight. Draconus says no. 'His is the longing that afflicts the young. You offer too much and he yearns to be lost.’ Arathan is embarrassed because his father is right. He is an open book to everyone. He vows to himself, 'One day, I will make myself unknown to all. Except Feren, and our child.' Draconus says that Sechul and Errastas have committed murder. She asks him what right he has to make this accusation. Draconus says they killed Karish and found power in her blood and they wear it proudly. He tells her that they used that power to create the gift in his possession. She asks him why he doesn't flee. Hood will blame him as much as the others for his wife's death. Draconus says he will face him at the Tower of Hate. She says he'd better hope the chains hold.
Draconus asks what she will do. She says she must find her son and turn him from this path. Draconus says it is too late. 'even now Errastas weaves a web around K’rul, and the sorcery once given freely to all who would reach for it is now bound in blood.’ She says Sechul and Errastas are poisoned by their father's uselessness. Draconus tells her if she finds them to kill them both. He tells her she has to leave as they cannot stand against her grief. She stands to leave and says she will punch her grief and rage across this valley. When she leaves, Arathan turns to his father and says, I wish you left me at home. As he prepares the evening meal a thought strikes him and he asks, "‘Father? Have Azathanai moved and lived among the Tiste?’ Draconus tells him that Azathanai live wherever they want and in any guise they wish. Arathan asks if Mother Dark is an Azathanai. Draconus says no, she is a Tiste.
POV: Korya
The morning after the encounter with Kilmandaros Haut led Korya down into the Abandoned City of the Jaghut. She had dreamed of trapped dolls. Varandas had left before she woke up. She told Haut that she didn't want to visit anyone named the Lord of Hate. Haut agreed, but said they must anyway. She asked why and he angrily said to answer he must tell a tale and he hates tales. He asks her to tell him why he hates tales. She says because a tale has a unity that is impossible in life. It is only told from one universal perspective. She says he doesn't have to explain why he's bad at storytelling. She says just get on with it. He tells her what they know of the Azathanai which isn't much. They are powerful in ways no one understands. They are contrary and ill-inclined to society. He says they can choose any form they wish. Korya says he is describing gods, or demons, or spirits. He says yes. She asks if they can be killed. He doesn't know, but knows some have disappeared.
There is one Azathanai who now names himself K'rul. She asks what he was named before. Haut says Keruli and that that transformation is the heart of the story. The word Keruli among the Dog-Runners is of the present. But if it's not present, as in past or dead it changes to K'rul. Korya says, so they can be killed. Haut says yes and no. Not even the Azathanai understand what he did to himself. Korya asks what he did. ‘He bled, and from the wounds he opened upon himself, in the blood itself, he gave birth to mysterious power. Sorcery. Magic in many currents and flavours. They are young still, vague in aspect, only barely sensed. Those who do sense them might choose to flee, or venture closer. In exploration, these currents find definition.’ She says that the Jaghut, Dog-Runners, Thel Akai and Forulkan all have their own sorcery. Haut asks about the Tiste. She says that Varandas told her they did, but she's never seen anything like that. Keruli's blood leaves him and becomes something left behind, so he becomes K'rul. She understands that the Dog-Runners expected him to die and so his name changed. But that he lives on. Haut says yes and now the other Azathanai are beginning to understand the consequences of what he has done. Haut asks her why they might be alarmed. She says because he is giving anyone access to the power they held only among themselves.
Haut says, 'What value being a god when each and every one of us can become one?’ She says that gods are bullies, pathetic and venal. Haut says they are all selfish right. Except this one time. K'rul has set precedent where he has given a gift without expectation. He analogizes it to a merchant who suddenly gives everything away for free. Society collapses. Korya asks if the Lord of Hate is K'rul. He says no. She asks if his story is over. He says it is. She says, ‘But you ended nowhere!’. He says he warned her and now they must leave.
POV: Arathan
Arathan followed Draconus into a clearing and beheld a high Tower of what looked like white marble. He tells Arathan to hobble his horses. They have arrived. Arathan says he doesn't understand why something so beautiful could be called the Tower of Hate. Draconus motions for him to come into a different structure. He does. There is a desk in the corner of the room with stacks of vellum and countless quills. There is an open trapdoor as well. Draconus tells Arathan to wait and he will find chairs. Arathan asks if they are in the gatekeepers tower. A sound from the trap door directed Arathan's eyes to a Jaghut climbing into view. He had never seen one before. Ignoring Arathan the Jaghut walks to the desk. He is wearing a purple robe and his fingers are very ink stained. He says he writes in ink, not blood and his only excess is moderation. He asks Arathan what he thinks and Arathan tells him that they seek audience with the Lord of Hate. The Jaghut responds, ‘That fool? He bleeds ink like a drunk pissing in the alley. His very meat is sodden with the bile of his dubious wit. He chews arguments like broken glass, and he bathes all too infrequently.' He writes a suicide note, and it is interminable. His audience blinks, too filled with self-importance to choke out a laugh. Death, he tells them, is the gift of silence.'
The Jaghut says he looks like a Tiste and that no one doubts Draconus's power. The Tiste should be wary of his temper. He should warn them. Arathan says he will not return and that he means to stay in the Tower of Hate. The Jaghut asks where that is and Arathan tells him the tall one of white marble where the Lord of Hate dwells. The Jaghut says a secret awaits you. He asks Arathan what material would you use to build an edifice of hate. Arathan says something pure. The Jaghut says very good. And the tower should shine bright as well right? Yes. The Jaghut says, so white marble or in this case opal. He says that no Jaghut could build a tower like that. It would require an Azathanai mason. One with a sense of humor. He asks Arathan how many levels should it have. Arathan says hatred is a thing that blinds. The Jaghut asks him what he thinks of a suicide note that never ends. Arathan says it's a joke. He says he appreciates the irony. The Jaghut confirms that hate blinds and that there are no levels to it at all. What about windows and what manner of door should be used. Arathan says no windows because all that is outside matters not to the one within. Arathan looks at the Jaghut and says it's solid stone isn't it. But there must be a way in. The Jaghut says, but no way out. Arathan says but if it's solid none can live within it. The Jaghut responds that none do at least not what any sane person would call living.
Draconus walks in and says that you've burned every piece of furniture in every home nearby. The Jaghut says the winters are cold. He tells Draconus that he was just discussing Gothos's folly with his son. He points to a trunk and says there is wine in it. Draconus says he wants to speak with Hood. He grabs a clay jug out of the trunk. The Jaghut says it's an excellent choice. Draconus says it's the one he gifted to the Jaghut the last time they met. Draconus asks if Hood is still below. The Jaghut says he can't get rid of him. He tells Draconus that his son wishes to remain in the keeping of the Lord of Hate. Draconus says he would make himself a gift to you. The Jaghut says for what purpose? Draconus tells him that he is trained in letters. He then asks, ‘How many volumes have you compiled thus far, Gothos?’ Gothos responds a dozen stacks of papers written in his execrable hand. Draconus asks if he wrote it in Old Jaghut. Gothos says that that language is terrible. It is for tax collectors and unimaginative people. He would have killed himself after the first three words. If only. Then he confesses that he has indeed written in Old Jaghut.
Draconus tells him to teach the script to Arathan and he can translate it into a more suitable language like Tiste. Gothos says he will go blind and his hand will fall off translating it. Does he actually want to do it. Draconus says it was his idea. Gothos asks Arathan why. Arathan answers, ‘Because, sir, an unending suicide note cannot but be a proclamation on the worth of living.’ Gothos says he will argue against him and assault him with his wisdom at every turn. Gothos asks, 'What have you that dares to claim the strength to withstand me?’ Arathan responds, ‘I have youth.’. Gothos says that he will lose it. Arathan says eventually yes. Gothos says, ‘Draconus, your son does you proud.’ Draconus agrees. Gothos gives Draconus a key and tells Arathan to never doubt his father's courage. Arathan says he never has .Gothos asks for his name. Arathan tells him. Gothos asks, ‘And do you?’. Arathan says what? Gothos says do you walk on water because that is your name's meaning. Arathan says no and that he broke through ice and almost drowned. Gothos asks if he now fears ice or water. Arathan says no.
Gothos tells him his father wants to free Hood. It's dangerous. Do you know why. Arathan says for some sort of redemption. Gothos now confirms for himself that it was Errastas who killed Karish and others. He says that Draconus doesn't understand Jaghut. He thinks Hood will hunt down Errastas. He wants the legendary Jaghut rage to be unleashed on Errastas. But that won't happen. Arathan asks what Hood will do. Gothos answers, ‘He grieves for the silence she now gives him, Arathan. I fear, in truth, that he will announce a war upon that silence. All to hear her speak again, one more time, one last time. He will, if he is able, shatter the peace of death itself.’ Arathan asks how that is possible. Gothos doesn't know. He flees death, so he isn't the one to ask. He only hopes other Jaghut do not heed Hood's summons. Arathan asks why they would. It's madness. Gothos says it is audacious. Arathan looks at the trap door. Gothos says it's not a good sign that you already tire of my company. Go ahead and look.
Arathan makes his way down the trap door stairs. At the bottom there is a pool of water and an island in the middle. Hood is chained up on this island. Draconus is telling Hood that he plans to cleanse the gift and that other Azathanai are also horrified by Errastas's crime. K'rul is seeking justice. He tells Hood, he plans to release him. Hood laughs and says, ‘Ah, Draconus. You sought from Errastas a worthy symbol of your love for Mother Dark. To achieve that, he stole the love of another, and made from blackwood leaves the gift you sought. By this we are all made to bow before your need.’ Hood says he doesn't blame Errastas or Sechul or even Draconus. He tells Draconus, 'Be a sword if you will, but do not expect me to wield it.’ Draconus responds, ‘My fury remains, Hood, and I will curse Errastas for his deed, and for my own role in it. I will forge a sword and make of it a prison—’ Hood cuts him off and calls him a fool. Draconus continues, ‘Quenched in Vitr—’ Hood tells him to stop his description. He says, 'What I will do, once I am freed, will unwind all of existence.' He tells him to give him the key and begone.. Draconus tells him that he cannot defeat death. Hood tells Draconus that he doesn't know that. He will have allies who have their own grief and no one will doubt their resolve. ‘Gothos chained me out of love,’ he said, eyeing the key he held. ‘And here you seek to free me in its name, but I am dead to such things now. One day, Draconus, I will call upon you, in Death’s name, and I wonder: how will you answer?’ Draconus says they will both find out.
Hood says they are done, but Arathan tells him of his faith. Hood laughs but says go on. Arathan tells him that he thinks Hood will prove Gothos wrong. ‘His argument, sir. It is wrong. You all failed to answer him and so ended your civilization. But that argument never ends. It cannot end, and that is what you will prove.’ Hood tells Arathan that he is bold and asks if he thinks he will win his war. Arathan says no, but he will bless his attempt. This brings tears to Hood. Draconus sets his hand on Arathan's shoulder and says he regrets not knowing him better. Arathan tells Draconus he has been warned by all not to do what he is planning. Why does he still persist. Draconus says because he doesn't know any other way. Arathan says this is what Hood, Gothos, Kilmandaros, and Olar Ethil all said too.
Draconus says he has to go. He tells Arathan that there is an odd Jaghut who loves horses and will take care of his, but not to lose his bond with Hellar. He tells him to find somewhere to make a home, but do not isolate himself. There is a world beyond Gothos and the Jaghut. Arathan tells his father to be careful and that those in Kharkanas think they know him, but they do not. Draconus asks, ‘And you do?’ Arathan responds that he is an Azathanai. Draconus leads his mount into a clearing and darkness follows him. A moment later he is gone. No hug for Arathan. Arathan feels lost and free. He studies the figurine that Olar Ethil gave to him through his father. The last physical reminder of this entire trip. Another gift soaked in blood.
He hears a sound and looks up to see a Jaghut in armor and a young Tiste woman approaching. The Jaghut asks if he is within. Arathan says he is asleep in his chair. The Jaghut goes inside and yells at Gothos to wake up. The woman asks him what he's doing here and who is. The challenge throws Arathan off a bit. He tells her he is a guest of the Lord of Hate. She asks if the figurine he had was a doll. He says in a manner of speaking. a gift. She tells him it's ugly. He says nothing and is uncomfortable by her direct gaze. She asks, 'Do you always do that?’ He says what? She says, chew your nails. Arathan drops his hand and wipes it on his thigh. He says no.

So- I'm continuing in light of what I've written in the past, if you'd like to read over my previous posts, feel free to do so here-
Please note- most of what is written here is from Nahida S Nisa's tafsir on the story of Lut. You can read it for yourself here- https://thefatalfeminist.com/2020/12/07/prophet-lut-a-s-and-bal-%d8%a8%d9%84-the-nahida-s-nisa-tafsi )
Regarding the Popular "Test" Narrative- and why it's false- and a smokescreen for further incoherencies- https://www.reddit.com/LGBT_Muslims/comments/1cy3o0x/how_to_approach_the_narrative_of_its_a_test/
Regarding how to navigate conflation of Sexuality with Paraphilias and Incest, and how bringing such up is throwing stones in a glass house- https://www.reddit.com/LGBT_Muslims/comments/1cz5iq6/differentiating_paraphilias_and_sexuality_and/
Introduction
In this post, I'm going to be talking about why the common idea of Lut offering up women as a heterosexual alternative to the men not only doesn't work logically, it also contradicts quranic verses and blatantly defames Prophet Lut and ascribes him as having been complicit in sexually trafficking his own children.
Typically, most muslims will point to 11:78, saying that when the mob came to his house, Lut offered up his daughters to divert the mob away. This is seen as Lut defiantly resisting their demands and holding up the station of prophethood, as a valiant effort. If you consider the story to be just about same sex relations, this would make sense. Offer is made, it's rejected, and divine wrath happens. Seems simple enough.
Unfortunately, this basic reading has many disturbing implications and illogicalities that need to be addressed. The attempts mainstream readings have used to try to deal in damage control only exacerbate these issues.
To this end- I'm going to be focusing on three aspects as to why this interpretation doesn't work, and how in light of those aspects leading to the mainstream view becoming untenable, how we can approach this view.

1. The issue of logistics

When most read 11:78, the idea that often comes to mind is that Lut is offering his daughters up to the mob in order to serve as a sexual alternative. Yet, there stands an issue- how are all of Lut's daughters going to sexually satisfy these men?
One option would be that they each married a large group from amongst them. This would be polyandry, which is typically considered prohibited by most understandings, usually due to 4:24.
When one considers that 4:24 in fact may not be talking about not marrying married women (as the word used to refer to married- muhsanat- in 4:24 refers to chaste women elsewhere in the quran exclusively besides this verse- https://corpus.quran.com/qurandictionary.jsp?q=HSn#(4:24:1)) )- this then opens up the issue of lacking consent for marriage. (we will discuss this later). This would then allow for polyandry or polygamy both if one assumes muhsanat in 4:24 to mean what it does elsewhere. Additionally, the orthodox reading of 4:24 allows for polyandry with those of the right hand regardless, so there is a loophole one way or another.
Some may point out that if we take the forbidden forced marriage reading then the second half of the verse would justify forcing slave women to marriage, but 24:33 bans trafficking of slave women if they wish to keep their chastity- some may then argue this was only talking about just forced sex work, but the principle of this verse would likely be better read in a universal sense applying to all cases. The verse then becomes somewhat strangely tongue-in-cheek, and thus there is the possibility of allowance for both polygamy and polyandry.
While it should be noted some more modern understandings lock polygamy to be with only assisting orphans- the quran's offering of it as an option seems to be if one cannot take care of orphans- and that any women of your choice could be married. The context for this verse points to this verse being revealed during what appears to be a time when many widows were common amongst the muslims- though this opens the question of why "marry women of your choice" rather than "the widows" is used to describe the women here. However, while it could be argued that the quran favors marriage to one spouse as one could be unjust, something the quran alludes to- it does not outright prohibit the practice altogether- though it does caution against it for fear of spousal injustice, and that it should be done to help uplift the other parties involved- if one is to incorporate the widow context.
The idea that Lut did not have to ask his daughters about the marriage offer is also inaccurate. We see Ibrahim ask his son before the sacrifice about what to do regarding what he saw in his dream, and the hadith imply one must ask a girl regarding marriage, and that silence means no objections (in the arab tradition of the time). But overall, one must ask. Lut does not do this. The conclusion cannot be that just because they were not men, they did not need to be asked.
But going back to logistics, Lut's scant daughters cannot possibly sexually satisfy the mob. There's simply too many- if they did try this, it's likely this mob would have grown impatient and tried to storm Lut's house anyway. They would have had to quickly marry, sexually sate one of the men of the mob, then break that and marry another. Or they'd all be married to multiple people, and not be able to sate them all in time before they grew impatient. It's both impractical and implausible to the extreme.
To this, mainstream readings tried to insert damage control by arguing that Lut was talking about the city's women- that he was a spiritual father to the people and thus telling them to go to his metaphorical "daughters", not just his own children. However, this doesn't work quranically- as when Lut is described in relation to his people in 26:161- he is listed as their brother. If this is the relation between the two, Lut should have mentioned "these are our sisters" in relation to the women he wanted to offer.
More importantly, even if we were to assume that it was talking about the women of the city, the way 11:78 reads implies the women seem to be in his house. Translators note the verse as "here/or these" in the verse- clearly whoever Lut is talking about is in inside his house. Then, if this is a large mob- how would all of these women have fit into his house?
And more importantly, when we consider that none of Lut's people seemed to have listened to him- why would they even be there to begin with?
Of course, the next issue to tackle is religious disparity.
2. The issue of religious disparity
Typically, most muslims argue in the modern day that believing women cannot marry anything but a muslim. They base this typically on the principles mentioned in Surah Mumtahnah and Surah Baqarah (60:10-11 and 2:221). Interestingly the dominant reading tends to also argue that marriage to folk of the book (as allowed in surah maidah) is a male only privelage- however, no prohibition of such is mentioned quranically- and more importantly- this would assume that a male folk of the book is a pagan, but a female one is not. Thus, belief would be related to one's gender. The rationale for the ban seems to have come out of the idea that a non muslim husband could potentially curtail a muslim woman's rights or abuse her- however this essentially took a legitimate concern and universalized it when even the quran does not do such a thing. However, considering the tribal nature of late antiquity and how religion could forment conflicts, it makes sense how such a prohibition came to be, even if not scripturally indicated.
Yet, here out of nowhere, these rules are essentially ignored- perhaps the idea is that since same sex relations is a "larger sin"- this would be acceptable to combat it.
Now, interestingly, while the verses may be clear cut in modern understandings, their application at some times wasn't. The prophet's own daughter Zainab bint muhammad, remained wed to a pagan man, her cousin Al Aas ibn Al Rabee, for two years after the revelation of 2:221 (which is accounted to have occurred sometime after the hijrah in 622). Their story is mentioned within seerah accounts, and is often recounted as a popular love story.
To begin, Zainab had married Al Aas before revelation began. When news came to Zainab that her father had become a prophet, she spoke to her husband about it. Al Aas however, wasn't ready to accept Islam- he did not want to abandon the ways of his ancestors and his cultural heritage, but he also made it clear he was not accusing the prophet of lying, requesting if Zainab would be patient with him. Zainab replied that as his wife, who else would, and remained by his side for twenty years.
Eventually, the Hijrah began to commence, and Zainab requested permission from her father to stay with her husband, and the prophet allowed this. While Al-Aas did not accept Islam when news came to him of Muhammad's prophethood, he stood steadfastly besides his wife- when the Quraish attempted the same scheme Abu Lahab ordered his sons to do- divorce the daughters of the prophet- Al Aas flatly rebuked their demand- it did not matter what they offered in exchange- such as a beautiful woman of the quraish- he didn't budge, and in doing so outright humiliated the quraish who had banked on Al-Aas giving up on Zainab. The two remained together, despite this.
Eventually, the battle of Badr came, and Al-Aas was ordered to go fight- it's likely if he didn't Zainab and him would have faced consequences- so he fought and was captured by the muslims. Zainab, while fearful of her husband's death- soon received news that he lived- and that a ransom would need to be paid. To pay this off, Zainab gave an onyx necklace belonging to her mother- Khadijah. According to traditional historiographic recrods, Khadijah had by this point died due to a pagan led boycott upon banu hashim at the hands of the Quraish. The necklace made it's way to Madinah, and the prophet was left in tears over seeing it. As a result, the prophet let al-aas go, but the condition that Zainab needed to come to Madinah.
Eventually, Al-Aas returned to Makkah, where he told Zainab of the conditions of his release. Zainab asked if he could come with her, but as he had not converted, he said he would not be able to come, saddening her. A howdah was then readied for her (a kind of palanquin atop a horse or camel), but as she was leaving, she was attacked due to those of the Quraish feeling that her leaving in such a manner was not appropriate due to it feeling like an even deeper insult after their losses at Badr, and the altercation resulted in her having a miscarriage. Her brother in law- Al-Aas's brother Amr- was enraged at this and threatened to put an arrow in anybody who tried to try to go after her- as he was serving as her escort. Abu Sufyan then told Amr that Zainab would need to leave Madinah discreetly. She did so, and eventually made it to Madinah.
Al-Aas eventually wound up getting captured again in a caravan ambush led by some muslims, and eventually sought protection from Zainab after sneaking into Madinah, and she declared publicly in the masjid of Madinah that she had freed Al-Aas from being a prisoner and that he was under her protection now, and thus of the muslims as well. The prophet honored this request. Al-Aas eventually converted to Islam after settling some financial matters with the Quraish, but the injuries caused by her on her ride back to madinah caused her to die only a few years later, leaving al-aas in deep grief. Traditions imply he either remarried, or died shortly after a grieving widower.
Now typically, what is often seen is the fact that the tradition often paint this story in ways that try to indicate this was an exception to the rule due to the marriage occurring before the banning verses were revealed. However, some of the commentaries on this story state that Al-Aas and Zainab did not have to renegotiate mahr or a nikah, though some do- the former would imply their marriage was never voided in the first place- and considering how tribal early muslims were on the basis of religion, as well as people in late antiquity and the middle ages in general, that folk in those times found this version of the story (no renegotiation) as plausible is striking.
Additionally, there is the fact that while Surah Baqarah was revealed in 622, Zainab and Al-Aas were not separated until 624- while some try to argue that the prophet ordered Zainab that she couldn't be with her husband after the necklace exchange and her coming back- and that's entirely plausible considering abrogation principles- the fact remains that for over two years the prophet simply didn't do anything about it. Some try to argue he couldn't due to them being in makkah and he in madinah, but even if she was in Makkah, a missive or some means of notice that would have been recognized could have been smuggled in- Al-Aas would have allowed her to leave- she was not held hostage. In fact, it likely would have been easier for her to leave before Badr than when she did as before that people leaving Makkah was likely significantly easier- they may have hated the muslims but they weren't at war just yet. Some traditions also seem to imply she died while she was pregnant, which further complicates matters- this is mentioned in Orbala's research paper- https://www.academia.edu/103025948/The_Quran_on_Muslim_Womens_Marriage_to_Non_Muslims_Premodern_Exegetical_Strategies_Contradictions_and_Assumptions, however it should be noted that some versions of the story argue that it was complications brought about by the attack and her miscarriage that caused her death a few years later, not that she was pregnant at the time of death, or that the prophet forbade Zainab from having relations with Al-Aas.
Regardless however, the fact remains that if we are to argue for an exception to the polythiest banning verses, it would be to somebody like Al-Aas. Not the folk of Lut, who clearly have little love for Lut and little to no good character at all.
Now however, we must come to the next issue- that of tactical failure.
3. Issue of Tactical Failure
Typically, most of the arguments that Lut was offering up an alternative do realize that his daughters wouldn't be enough. So, many do argue that Lut was speaking about the city's women, urging them to go back to them. While this could be plausible (and even could work in an affirming reading telling them to stop assaulting travellers and seek out honest marriages)- the main reason this doesn't work is because tactically the move fails.
The quran makes it clear in 26:165-166 that the folk of Lut had spouses, which they had not necessarily left, if we assume the reading of bal as no. 27:54-55 and 7:80-81 also share the same sentence structure, then one must identify their spouses as having been women (azwaj and women match in their places in the verses). If that's true, then the folk of Lut having access to heterosexual relations hadn't helped fix anything.
More importantly, this would mean Lut was attempting to use an already exhausted option to fend off the mob- one that wouldn't even work as they were still technically wed to them. So essentially, Lut's offer becomes a tactical blunder that doesn't help anybody because it has already been implemented, and failed already to stop anything. This also would imply all, or a large majority the women of the city were in his house as per the "here are my daughters" part of the verse, which ties back into logistical issues. And of course, Lut not asking his daughters about his marriage offer- which would directly affect them- then ties into consent issues.
So then, the question becomes- how does one read Lut's offer- without either defaming him or turning him into somebody who makes no sense? One reading is to see his offer as a deception, that cleverly utilized the logic of the townspeople against them to protect his guests.
Reading Lut's Offer as Well-Meant Deception- Co-Opting Xenophobic Hierarchies for Good Purposes
When the mob responds to Lut's offer about the daughters- they say something somewhat strange in 11:78. To paraphrase, they argue that "we have no right on your daughters, and you know what we want". This is right when they have surrounded his house in a mob and are demanding the angels (disguised as foreign travellers) to come out. They later try to break into Lut's house and are promptly blinded (likely by the angels, as per the biblical tradition) and then run off.
The issue of "right" regarding Lut's daughters is an interesting nuance that is often dismissed. Some translate the word used for right- haqqin- to mean need or want- but the word almost always means right to something in the quran elsewhere, and many translators do use right for haqqin in 11:78, or something along the lines of "we have no claim". And if we take the "right" or "claim" view on haqqin for this verse, then this would mean that Lut's daughters were off-limits for whatever they wanted to do- which in this case was essentially break into Lut's house and sexually assault his guests in a blatant violation of hospitality law.
So the question becomes- why are they off-limits for what they wanted to do? If one tries to assume the issue is about gender as the mainstream view holds, then the situation and how the mob speaks about Lut's daughters doesn't really make a lot of sense. Didn't they have wives as we see in 26:165-166? But if we look at from the perspective of natives vs foreigners- a xenophobic perspective really- then things start to become clearer.
Elsewhere in the quran, the mob states that Lut has been forbidden from the alimeen. Many pointing to the fact that Lut is fretful for his guests and asks for support against the mob has led some translators to see the mob as implying Lut was forbidden from hosting or protecting the alimeen. In this case, the alimeen as we see in 26:165-166 are the foreigners, as as when the mob refers to the angels, they do not refer to them as "rijal" but rather as "alimeen". The mob seems to be more concerned over their foriegn status rather than that they are men.
The use of trickery by prophets isn't anything new. Yusuf slipped a chalice into his brother Binyameen's bag to engineer a hostage situation while obeying Egyptian Law/religious custom (as per the usage of the word shariah in the verse detailing the contriving of the chalice scheme) in Surah Yusuf, and much later during the Exodus, Musa and his people fled Egypt in the dead of night to deceive the Pharaoh and his soldiers.
Thus, Lut's "offering" in truth could be construed as a clever ploy on his end to utilize the xenophobic logic of the town against them. So the question then becomes, why does it fail? It is here that we must turn our attention to Lut's wife- a figure widely seen as a traitor to her husband.
Lut's wife- Ally or Outer?
In popular mainstream readings, Lut's wife is often equated to those who affirm or are kinder toward same sex relations and those who engage in such (that is an "ally"). However, to equate her with those who support same sex individuals from having loving relationships is a major stretch and to some degree- outright false.
When we look at her actions in the story of Lut, we see that she has both the motive and the ability to be responsible for one thing- the leaking out of the news that Lut had guests over at his house. More importantly, it's implied Lut's wife lagged behind- she did not leave with her daughters or Lut as they fled the city. Thus, the attack of the mob can be directly traced back to her information breach.
In that sense, Lut's wife actually takes on the archetype of an outer. Much like those who out individuals who are gay, sapphic or bisexual/trans leaving them vulnerable to harm, Lut's wife similarly outed the angels by mentioning they were in Lut's house so they could be attacked. It is for this that she is eventually punished alongside the rest of the people from the cities.
Reinterpretation of Prophetic Stories- Is it Possible?
Now, after all this, one may be pressed to ask- can such reinterpretation of prophetic stories even be possible? History shows us that such is true.
To do this, we can take a look at Surah Sad, where a particularly odd incident during Dawud's life is mentioned. The quran implies that this incident was a story that was already known to those in Arabia- involving Dawud being woken up in the middle of the night, only to find two men in front of him. Half-frightened out of his wits likely thinking these were assasins, the men then describe why they came to him- one of them owned 99 ewes, and the other 1, but the former was attempting to take even that one ewe from the latter. Dawud ruled very quickly that such a seizure was not okay, and then proceeded to ask forgiveness for some manner of misdemeanor he had committed.
What is often not talked about this story is how it seems to parallel- and potentially outright reference- a scene from the Bathsheba incident of the Torah. This incident involved Dawud feeling attraction for a married women by the name of Bathsheba- who he saw bathing at one point- who was wed to one of his generals- Uriah the Hittite. To wed him for himself, he proceeded to arrange for Uriah's death and then did so. Later after doing this, another prophet by the name of Neithan orders two men with the ewe case to show up and it is here that Dawud realizes he has erred greatly, asking for forgiveness.
This story saw several responses in the muslim tradition, as many noticed the fact that the quranic ewe incident seemed much too similar to the affair of bathsheba to be a coincidence. Some of the earliest traditions likely seemed to have accepted the story near completely, as the doctrine of ismah had not fully formed yet, and more focus was given on judeo-christain sources. Later tellings seem to have re-interpreted the scene as Dawud having felt attraction for Bathseba, but the ewes case was sent as a warning much like how Yusuf was warded away from Zuleikha- the Wife of Al-Aziz- but not denying that he had attraction from her- and that he may have wed her after her husband died in battle honorably- rather than being sent to his doom in the biblical account. However, most commentaries eventually under the purview of the ismah doctrine eventually retconned and struck out this incident in it's entirety as being entirely fabricated- under the reason that a prophet would not behave in such a manner. (source: https://hcommons.org/app/uploads/sites/1001499/2019/10/Pregill\_Mohammed-David-in-the-Muslim-Tradition.pdf)- note this is a review of a book discussing the matter.
This isn't the only case where we see such reinterpretations. With Yusuf's story, considerable alterations in how the Wife of Al Aziz is presented- in how her motivations for Yusuf seem to be related to love rather than just mere lust (and the implication that it took divine intervention for Yusuf to not go to her- implying mutual attraction and love), the humanizing scene of her desire in the scene of the banquet of the bloody knives, her repentance and confession of her actions regarding Yusuf, and Yusuf's covering for her by not asking the king to summon her for questioning in order to exonerate her while he was in prison speaking with the winepresser- instead asking for those who cut their hands to speak- and being more harsh with his brothers than her- has led to a very rich tradition of stories that see Zuleikha as a mad lover seeking out the divine presence rather than simply a malevolent adultress- which she first sees in Yusuf, and it is later this love for Yusuf that helps her change her ways- though she does this moreso on her own.
This particular understanding of her character is popular in Sufi poetry. Many also have pointed out that with her husband as being possibly impotent, and how a woman in her time may have been constrained by society to be stuck with her husband, Zuleikha's adultery attempt may have been her lashing out to gain autonomy for herself- an incorrect action, but with understandable and even valid motivations. Of course, there are plenty of tafsirs and understandings that do paint her as more the malevolent seductress as well. But the fact remains that if Dawud outright had portions of his story retconned out to fit theological understandings, why can't we do the same with Lut?
Conclusion
Overall, the mainstream interpretation of Lut offering his daughters has various issues, weather it be theological discrepancies, logistically being incoherent, and frankly painting him in a very negative light. In light of this, understanding Lut's actions as a ploy to keep his guests safe using their xenophobic understandings and turning the tables on them through it- though unfortunately failing due to his wife- rather than throwing his daughters in harm's way- seems to be the only possible solution.

First
Bubba made his way through the outer wall of the Block, nearing the greenhouse. Pusdot quickened his pace and walked up beside him.
"That human, he is making me an orb for me?"
Bubba looked over at him, still walking briskly past the windowed doors of shops. "He's making translators. Orbs are harder and he said he doesn't have the parts. But it'll work the same."
Pusdot looked around, away from Bubba. "But will it be a sphere like yours?"
Bubba shrugged. "I don't know bud. Main thing is making it work."
He widened his eyes. "This is true. I like your sphere though." He focused two eyes on Bubba. "I would like to talk more with him about electricity." He chittered his teeth. "That is a fun word. Electricity." He shifted an eye back at Sliplegs. "Electricity."
Bubba laughed and looked around a corner toward the large arch of the greenhouse. "Figured she'd set up shop here. Stupid scientists, gotta make things expensive for working folk."
Pusdot shifted his eyes at the green light filtering in from the room ahead. "It, it smells."
Sliplegs reached up with his free hand and covered his face. "Awful. It hurts."
Bubba stopped and looked toward the greenhouse and then back at his friends. "It hurts? Shit, I didn't think of that. Yeah, everything in there is foreign." He raised a hand up, looking back and forth. "Well, um. I can take the armor in. You guys can stay out here."
Pusdot raised his hand up toward Bubba. "No. It is tolerable. I can carry things in."
Sliplegs raised his hand up as well. "Just, strong smell, I am okay too."
Bubba looked over both of them. "You guys sure? I don't want to fuck up again. I almost killed you once already Pus."
Pusdot widened his eyes further, showing the whites. "I want to see in there. Go on Bubba Yaga. I want to learn more magics."
Bubba laughed, turning, and walked into the greenhouse.
---===*===---
Dahlia was at her desk in the greenhouse office sequencing vials when the man knocked on the door frame. She looked up to see the unshaven fisherman and then noticed the two xenorachs at his side. She smiled and stood up. "Live specimens!"
Bubba shook his head and looked at Pus. "Nah, nah, these are my friends." He motioned for the wrapped fnga armor and Sliplegs handed it over. "We're wondering if you want to buy these?"
Her face soured as she looked at him. He pulled off her glasses and pointed at Pusdot. "Tell me about these two. They're, they're helping you? How did you manage that." She put her glasses back on and stepped closer to Sliplegs. "They seem docile, yet they are predators. Other inmates told me they were attacked by several of them. How'd you tame them?"
Pusdot bowed slightly, darkening his eyes and grumbled his native speech. The orb translated. "I am sorry my kind attacked yours. We have been under attack from yours as well. I hope we can have mutual respect of territory."
She took a step back. "Holy hell." She covered her mouth. "Pardon my language." She pointed toward a chair. "Inmate, sit. I need details, now."
Bubba raised his hand, face stern.
She stared right back at him and pointed at the ceiling.
Bubba looked up and noticed two crawlers nested in the ceiling, their Crucible M10's aimed at his head. "Yes Ma'am." He said, sitting down slowly.
She sat back down at her desk and smiled at the xenorachs. "Please. Please, if you understand me, pull up those two chairs."
Sliplegs looked at his father with an eye and Pusdot nodded back at him. The two pulled their chairs over and sat beside Bubba.
She crossed her hands on the desk. "This, this is a discovery. I, want this. This is my thesis. I've been scouring through samples looking, hoping for something game changing. Yes, there's dozens of new amino combinations, but it's all probably registered in some synthesized database somewhere. My only hope, until now, was finding real life applications of theoretical life processes, and no one cares about that. People live in generated worlds all over. But these!" She smiled. "These two, their kind. This is going to be a political nightmare." She laughed. "I love it!" She pointed at Pusdot. "You, tell me about yourself."
"I am Pusdot."
"Pusdot." Her face tightened as she thought on his name. "That's kind of gross." She looked over at Bubba. "Is that thing working right?" She asked pointing at the orb.
He nodded. "The males get shit for names."
Her eyebrows raised. "And the females?"
"Warriors, defend the territories. The guys serve them." He groaned. "Been a pain keeping them fed."
She tapped her glasses, thinking for a moment. "And, you're feeding them? Why? That how you, that why they are here?"
Bubba looked at Pusdot for a moment. "We barter, yeah. Mostly we feed them so my buds here don't end up eaten."
"Oh my god!" She shook with excitement. "That's so eerie similar! Convergently evolved and sentient!" She leaned back slightly. "Well, at least they aren't crabs."
Bubba nodded. "Yeah. It's hard telling what worlds each of them are from. I've pissed off a few in my day."
She nodded back at him. "So, you. Pusdot. You're here of your own free will? He's not taking advantage of you or anything?"
Pusdot shifted an eye toward Bubba. "No. He is a friend. He helps me. I owe him for my life, and my children's lives."
She looked back at Bubba. "An inmate, helping a native. See, I shouldn't judge should I."
"No Ma'am." He smiled.
She looked over at the satchel. "What are those, you were wanting to sell me things?"
Bubba put the tarp containing the fnga shells on the table. "Yeah. I heard you buy stuff like this."
She looked them over. "Trappers brought in a few of these. Odd bottom dwelling creature, probably a divergent from these fellas evolutionary line. The exoskeleton has similar compositional components as theirs, yet probably millions of years apart." She looked over at Bubba. "Like us and, I dunno, cats maybe. It's like their lions." She looked back at the shells, poking through them. "Good flesh chunks dried in here. I can sample those. The shells themselves, yeah, I can make some pottery for my aunts. Save on Christmas gifts." She looked up at the xenoarchs. "The shells you can heat them, bind them together you know. Similar to glass blowing, weird carbonic silicate interactions." She looked back down. "All the silica on this world, its made for some interesting biomes. I'm amazed you inmates stay alive out there."
Bubba blinked slowly, sighing. "How do you mean?"
She kept poking through the flesh, testing it with her pen. "Minimal tech, hostile creatures, horrible environ, everything bites, plant life is toxic and irritation inducing." She looked up at him. "You're a pretty resolute individual I gather."
Bubba shrugged. "I come from a long line of survivors Ma'am."
She nodded. "About that." She raised a finger up. "Crawler. Give me details on the inmate before me."
One of the metallic forms on the ceiling shifted, aiming a blue eyelet toward her. "Inmate 77743. Tillman Layfayette Gumphries. Insolvent. Deemed societal drain. Hotdropped AUTU 556-10 on planet Q39-C."
She nodded. "Non-violent?"
Bubba nodded.
Sliplegs chittered his teeth.
She looked over at the smaller male. "What was that?"
Bubba smiled. "That's how they laugh."
"And why, did you laugh?"
Sliplegs bowed his head, darkening his eyes. "Bubba Yaga shakes the trees with fire and thunder, Ma'am."
Dahia laughed. "Bubba Yaga? Teaching them our tongue already." She looked at the man. "Take them out hunting?"
Bubba nodded.
She leaned back and stared at him for a moment. "How long are you in town?"
Bubba shrugged. "Dunno. I got a few errands. Was hoping to get back tonight, but we're running behind."
"Just you three?"
He shook his head. "Wives are with us."
"Wives?"
Pusdot nodded, widening his eyes. "Sliplegs wives and the Alexandra Ma'am."
She laughed, clapping slightly. "Sliplegs." She looked at the smaller male. "I'm guessing, you? With how his eye shifted toward you?"
The young male nodded awkwardly. "Yes Ma'am."
"Given the giant trees, and their probable hunting strategies. I can see the importance of their eyes. Kind of like hawk sight I bet. Far distances with open space require a sense capability of detection. Smell might be good, but this whole place is fetid, and the noises from beyond the wall at night are crazy loud. Sight, that's been good to you guys." She took a deep breath, bobbing her head. "I'll buy the shells. You do the barter system they do around here, or what?"
Bubba smiled. "I heard, you have currency?"
"Credits or Clams?"
"Credits Ma'am. Fuck the Clowder."
She smiled. "Yeah, fuck those fascists." She pulled out a pad and looked up at him. "Good good, you're linked to your inmate number." She tapped the screen. "Okay, sent you over three hundred. That good?"
His eyes went wide and a smile crossed his face. "Yes Ma'am! That's, that's generous."
She shook her head. "No inmate, that's including the next part of our transaction."
His face went slack.
"You're going to take me out with you. Let's say, one agreed upon temporal week?"
"One week? Out in the swamp with me?"
She motioned at the two spiderfolk. "With all of you. This is a research expedition." She pointed up at the crawlers. "How big is your boat?"
He looked up at the massive metal constructs gripping the support beams in the ceiling. "Not that strong Ma'am."
She groaned. "You have guns obviously. Can you guarantee security?"
He sighed. "We'll need to run this past my wife first. Then we can talk safety concerns."
She nodded. "Yes, and the other two wives?"
He nodded back.
"Alright. Let me get some things together and we shall go meet with them."
He raised his hand up slightly. "Um, I was supposed to, she uh."
She shook her head slightly. "She uh, she uh what?"
"I was hoping to barter with you for some plants. She's got a garden going in the back room, and was hoping for some new flowers."
Dahlia raised a finger. "Screw flowers. I got just the thing for her. Rare in this arm, hard to come by but I love them." She got up and walked over to container along the back wall of her office. She slid open the drawer, cold mist rolled out. "If she knows anything." She looked up at him. "Which I hope she does, given she's a gardener." She looked back down and pulled out a glass tube holding some green finger like plants with roots.
"She was hoping for flowers. You, you don't have any?"
She glared at him over her glasses. "Asparagus, Bubba. She'll be thankful for it, I guarantee." She put it in his hands and turned around, shaking her finger in the air. "I need to make a list. Yes. What all I'll need." She looked back over at him. "You will provide food and housing correct?"
He stared at her.
"Your home, inmate. Is it adequate for guests?"
Pusdot raised a hand up slightly.
She looked at him.
"I stayed there last night. It is a good temperature and the smells are not overwhelming."
She shrugged. "Good enough for me." She smiled. "I'll start packing. Wait here for me."
Bubba sighed and remained seated.
---===*===---
Alexandra sat next to Elise, each a drink in their hand. Quietbite sat behind Alexandra, braiding her hair.
Elise took a sip and looked at the creature's work. "Watching their hands move, it's mesmerizing." She looked up at Alexandra. "And that dress." She laughed. "I'm sorry I got all jelly."
Alexandra smirked back. "Kinda my fault."
"No, no. We shouldn't of."
Alexandra cut her off. "I wanted to show off."
"Well it worked." Elise laughed, the laugh jarring her ribs forcing her to hold them. "Ow. I'm going to feel that tomorrow."
Alexandra put her bottle up to her forehead. "Me too." She laughed. "That was a good swing."
Elise pointed at the the two spider women. "These uns, they're fierce. Came out of nowhere."
Alexandra smiled over at Gorepull. "Yeah, they're top bitches in the woods." She leaned toward Elise whispering. "They eat their men if they step out of line."
Elise's face lit up. "Holy shit, that's void as hell."
"I know right. I love em, don't tell them though. They're like a hierarchy or some shit."
"Really?"
"Yeah, they have queen mothers and everything. Men are basically slaves. I love it."
"Shit." Elise said, looking at her friends. "We need to get some swamp husbands, meet the locals."
Alexandra nodded and took another sip. "I might could get them to make you a dress if you want." She looked over at Elise. "Won't be as nice as mine, but it'll be nice."
Elise stared back at her, leaning in her chair. "How much?"
Alexandra drained her bottle and sat it on the table. "Bubba's hooch is shit. You still got Jackobs on your short threads?"
Elise smiled. "He couldn't stop if he wanted to. Man's a beast."
"He still got those beehives over in the greenhouse?"
Elise nodded.
"I'll trade you a dress for ten bottles mead."
Elise looked at her friends and they nodded back at her. She looked back at Alexandra. "Twenty five bottles, three dresses."
Alexandra thought for a moment, looking at Gorepull, feeling Quietbite braiding her hair. "Deal. Let me work it out with them, and I'll get you a day you can come out and get fitted."
Elise tilted her head. "Fitted? Out there, in the swamp?"
Alexandra blinked slowly. "That a problem?"
Elise nodded. "Big fucking problem. We ain't going out there."
She groaned. "Thirty bottles, three dresses, and we do it here."
Elise mirrored her groan and extended her hand. Alexandra shook it just as the door opened. They looked up and saw Bubba, Pusdot, Sliplegs, and a strange woman with a large brown rucksack over her shoulder.
Elise laughed. "I'm guessing they're with you?"
The orb floating beside Bubba translated her question into the xenorach's language. Quietbite leaned forward chittering. "That little one is my husband." The orb replied as it floated over.
Elise's face went pale as she stared at the female. "That, is trippy as fuck."
Quietbite chittered again. "I wanted to tell you Alexandra. I like the strands you grow. They are pleasant to my fingers."
Alexandra sighed. "Thank you Quietbite, and thank you for the backup earlier."
Gorepull took a drink from her bottle. "I enjoyed the fighting." She looked at her sister.
Quietbite looked over at the taller of Elise's friends. "I am happy to taste a new opponent. Mother will be impressed beyond believing."
Bubba walked over, staring at Quietbite braiding his wife's hair. "Well, this is going better than I expected." He then noticed the swollen spot on Alexandra's forehead. "And that, is as expected."
Alexandra pointed at Elise. "Just getting reacquainted with an old work friend."
Bubba laughed, tipping his head toward the woman. "Hey Elise. How you been?"
She smiled back. "Good T.L. Been hearing good things about you and your boys there."
He looked back at the two standing next to him and Dahlia still standing near the door.
Alexandra looked over at her. "Who's your friend Bubba?"
He sighed, touching his hair. "Dahlia Strong. She's coming with us, wants to research them."
Alexandra looked her over in more detail, noting her hair, soft skin, perky chest. "She paid well I hope?"
He nodded and remembered the box in his hand. He opened it up and handed it over to her. "It's not a flower, I'm sorry."
Alexandra looked inside, noting the perennial vegetable inside. "Asparagus!" She looked up at him. "You, dumb lovable fool!" She hit him on the arm and then looked over at Dahlia. "You give him this?"
Dahlia walked over, nodding. "Yeah, he said you had a garden going."
She laughed. "This is worth a fortune. What he promise you?"
The scientist's face grew serious. "One week, meals and quarter provided. Your husband is going to be my guide, introduce me to your new friends." She tilted her head. "And you of course." She gave a quick smile. "Nice dress by the way." She looked at the female xenorach braiding her hair. "She make it?"
Quietbite's eyes darkened toward the woman. "That is a male weave. It demands submission." The orb translated.
Dahlia looked over at Sliplegs. "Culture, meaning. This is, this is fascinating already." She looked around the table, noting Gorepull's eyes all focused on her. She extended a hand at the large female. "Dahlia."
Gorepull stood up, taking the woman's hand in her own. She looked down at her as she rose to her full height. "I am Gorepull. Daughter of Mother Silentcut, apprentice to self proclaimed Queen Alexandra."
Dahlia's eyes widened. "Pleasure to meet you."
Gorepull squeezed her hand tighter. "You wish to learn of us?"
Dahlia nodded slowly.
"I will take you Dahlia. You will be my apprentice."
The researcher looked slowly at Alexandra.
Alexandra smiled at her, nodding slowly.
Dahlia looked back up at Gorepull. "That, is, acceptable."
Gorepull let go and looked over at Sliplegs. "You have done well husband. You are earning your place in our nest."
Sliplegs bowed slightly, his eyes darkening pitch black.
Bubba looked around at everyone. "Well, we got a bit to wait on Gime. Another round the house on Thompson?"
The room erupted in cheering and Susie smiled behind the bar.

1. He compared a Samaritan woman to a lowly dog.
2. He said that the only reason for divorce is "sexual immorality" but not domestic violence. Only a man can divorce, and then he can remarry, but the woman cannot.
3. He said that you have to "forgive" "seventy times seven" (no matter how many times the man rapes you) and that you have to "turn the other cheek" to people who hurt you--so they can hurt you again. And again. And again.
4. You can't follow him unless you abandon your family. Your wife and children, yeah. Your husband and children, yeah. He came to bring a sword and pit people against each other, especially family against family.
5. He said that people who aren't following him are "dead" and to "let the dead bury the dead" so he doesn't even consider non-christians humans.
6. Jesus condemned entire cities to hell for not believing his preaching.
7. Jesus advocated for murdering children who won't obey their parents.
8. Jesus allows beating of slaves.
9. Jesus says that you should self mutilate rather than have a sinful thought.
10. Jesus says that having a sinful thought about a woman is adultery "WITH" her. Police your thoughts or you're an adulterer.

Jesus was not good, and if you see anyone singing his praises here, please feel enthusiastically invited to report them.

Would love someone to explain the following authentic hadiths for me: —

1. Sahih Al-Bukhari 304

Once Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) went out to the Musalla (to offer the prayer) of `Id-al-Adha or Al-Fitr prayer. Then he passed by the women and said, "O women! Give alms, as I have seen that the majority of the dwellers of Hell-fire were you (women)." They asked, "Why is it so, O Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) ?" He replied, "You curse frequently and are ungrateful to your husbands. I have not seen anyone more deficient in intelligence and religion than you. A cautious sensible man could be led astray by some of you." The women asked, "O Allah's Messenger (ﷺ)! What is deficient in our intelligence and religion?" He said, "Is not the evidence of two women equal to the witness of one man?" They replied in the affirmative. He said, "This is the deficiency in her intelligence. Isn't it true that a woman can neither pray nor fast during her menses?" The women replied in the affirmative. He said, "This is the deficiency in her religion."
https://sunnah.com/bukhari:304
— 2. Sahih Al-Bukhari 5094
Evil omen was mentioned before the Prophet: The Prophet (ﷺ) said, "If there is evil omen in anything, it is in the house, the woman and the horse."
https://sunnah.com/bukhari:5094
— 3. Sahih Muslim 1456
It is permissible to have intercourse with a female captive after it is established that she is not pregnant, and if she has a husband, then her marriage is annulled when she is captured
https://sunnah.com/muslim:1456d
— 4. Sahih Al-Bukhari 4350
The Prophet (ﷺ) sent Ali to Khalid to bring the Khumus (of the booty) and I hatedAli, and Ali had taken a bath (after a sexual act with a slave-girl from the Khumus). I said to Khalid, "Don't you see this (i.e.Ali)?" When we reached the Prophet (ﷺ) I mentioned that to him. He said, "O Buraida! Do you hate `Ali?" I said, "Yes." He said, "Do you hate him, for he deserves more than that from the Khumlus."
https://sunnah.com/bukhari:4350
— 5. Sahih Muslim 1769
They surrendered at the command of the Messenger of Allah (ﷺ), but he referred the decision about them to Sa'd who said: I decide about them that those of them who can fight be killed, their women and children taken prisoners and their properties distributed (among the Muslims).
https://sunnah.com/muslim:1769a
— 6. Sahih Al-Bukhari 5825
Aisha said that the lady (came), wearing a green veil (and complained to her (Aisha) of her husband and showed her a green spot on her skin caused by beating). It was the habit of ladies to support each other, so when Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) came,Aisha said, "I have not seen any woman suffering as much as the believing women. Look! Her skin is greener than her clothes!"
https://sunnah.com/bukhari:5825
— 7. Sahih Muslim 1439
I have a slave-girl who is our servant and she carries water for us and I have intercourse with her, but I do not want her to conceive. He said: Practise 'azl, if you so like, but what is decreed for her will come to her.
https://sunnah.com/muslim:1439a
— 8. Sahih Muslim 1696
When she was delivered she came with the child (wrapped) in a rag and said: Here is the child whom I have given birth to. He said: Go away and suckle him until you wean him. When she had weaned him, she came to him (the Holy Prophet) with the child who was holding a piece of bread in his hand. She said: Allah's Apostle, here is he as I have weaned him and he eats food. He (the Holy Prophet) entrusted the child to one of the Muslims and then pronounced punishment. And she was put in a ditch up to her chest and he commanded people and they stoned her. Khalid b Walid came forward with a stone which he flung at her head and there spurted blood on the face of Khalid and so he abused her. Allah's Apostle (ﷺ) heard his (Khalid's) curse that he had huried upon her. Thereupon he (the Holy Prophet) said: Khalid, be gentle. By Him in Whose Hand is my life, she has made such a repentance that even if a wrongful tax-collector were to repent, he would have been forgiven. Then giving command regarding her, he prayed over her and she was buried.
https://sunnah.com/muslim:1695b

This is an email I sent to the Baptist gentleman with whom I had the YouTube debate in response to him asking what I see in Islam:
Sociologists show that people convert religions in general almost always for a mix of reasons, economic, philosophical, social, spiritual, and in Islam this has historically been sweetened by the tax break or the syncretic logic of the Sufi dawah to Hindus and in the latter century, to spiritual-but-not-religious pseudo-Hindu hippies seeking a more monotheistic backbone to the meditation practices. Conversely I've met several young men who have converted in their early 20s, 24 seems like the magic age, whereas my conversion was a pre-emption on a mid-life crisis around 37 instead of pre-empting a quarter-life crisis.
These young men will drift into different sects and Catholicism is a popular source of converts, but also Unitarian Christian groups like Jehovah's Witnesses seem to be a thing. In my case re-reading the bible at 36 and taking Mark 10:18 in plain sense rather than an esoteric interpretation, I was greatly inclined to 7th Day Adventist interpretations of Christianity, Hebrew roots, non-Paulean, Messianic Judaism adjacent.
I must confess the social incentives of being part of a larger body catechumen seems to be a pull that motivates a lot of us. Being a unitarian protestant Christian is either lonely or culty (the consequence of not being lonely but as an ultra-minority).
Sadly many of these young men who convert will drift into the strong (punching above its weight) gravitational pull of Salafism, which must be understood as a sola scriptura restorationist protestantism grounded on the hyper-hadith maximalism of the Hanbali school (800s) amplified by the monotheistic Neitszche-esque bipolar fervor of Ibn Tammiyah (1200s) and the violent reactionary jihad of Al-Wahhab (1700s, forerunner for Saudi state). This movement has had a fever pitch in the wake of post-colonial, post-Ottoman power vacuum and radical fatwa like the formerly impermissible killing of non-combatants being now permissible to this fringe, was an Egyptian cleric in the 50s who first said it, leads to modern terrorism, Bin Laden and so on. Saudi money fueled a lot of this. Characters like Mo Hijab are just the watered-down, loudly quietist, rhetorical versions of this, and they have influenced the perhaps emasculated madhab schools of traditional Sunnism (which includes permission to be an Arian or some other flavor of Sufi mystic, and moderates the stoning and such with rigorous legal logic).
Now we have to take a quick historical view of Christianity. There's a unitarian argument that it was corrupted by Paul, Constantine and a few others, the church fathers have mixed credit, for instance Iraneus was right to throw all the sex cults and hyper-ascetic gnostic groups out but the Ebionits were, according to the Muslim and Unitarian critique, the real apostolic church headed by James the Tzadik, brother of Jesus Christ, whose execution precipitated the curse unto the temple's destruction. But let's fast forward a bit. As a protestant you are surely critical of the Catholic Church and as an American you are a fan of the 1st amendment which allowed protestant de-ecclesialization of sacramentology and so on to flourish under the Kantian framework of getting stuff done and reinvesting in heritage, what made America (and the Merchants of Lombard St. and the Dutch East Indies Company) great.
The Free Masons long-term campaign starting from the return of the Knights Templar, their move to Scotland in the wake of Phillip II's mass executions and eventually the triumph of Americanism against hardcore papist Catholicism, leads to the logical conclusion of CIA funded ecumenicism from the church, the Tim Leary/Ted Kazinsky LSD experiments and the hippie movement opening up the culture to being polleninated by Hinduism. Pope Frank is just the latest iteration of this trend.
Then on the protestant side in the same decade, the 1980s, that Saudi funded Salafism is screaming into a void in renewed dialectic tensions with the Iranian revolutionary Shia, the Reagan Evangelical, Satanic Panic, Greed is Good version of protestantism lead to a golden age of American materialism which logically would come to loggerheads with its petrodollar protestant Islam counterparts in the 9-11 attacks, which were facilitated by Cheney's radar interference war games much like how the 10-7 attacks were facilitated by Netanyahu moving the troops in dereliction of the advice of Egyptian intelligence and surely Mossad. Truly the height of evil is to intentionally kill people so you have political backing to kill more people, all for, as the lady in the movie Fargo put it, a little bit of money. Don't they know there's more to life than a little bit of money? Power and political survival may factor in also, in the case of Constantine or Netanyahu.
Where am I going with this? Well in that materialist golden age we got the Gen X deconstruction of the apparent hypocrisy of the preceding civilization, the Boomers who were psuedo-Hindus as teens and then hardline Protestants in middle age, Jay Dyer has a great deconstruction of the movie Before Sunrise where the star-crossed lovers philosophically convince themselves not to start a family so they can pursue the deconstruction of the past's axioms, the rest of that trilogy shows this a futile strategy to Linklater's credit. Our generation (I have a feeling we're both in the 35-45 age bracket) grew up in this wake and the New Atheism of the 2000s was a result of seeing hardcore protestant Christian and Muslim assumptions of prophetic intercession justifying mass killing, we all went with Sam Harris, Hitchens, Dawkins etc. in deconstructing the entire apparatus of religion as an apparent weapon of mass destruction. This was exemplified by the 2009 YouTube trend of young people, at Hitchens' behest, blaspheming the holy spirit verbally even though that isn't what that verse means (fortunately for them).
In the 2010s we saw the hysteria that comes from an atheist epistemology that still believes in universal morality, with the youth aware to varying degrees that they are neo-Platonic Hegelians but most people didn't make it past Marx on the philosophy awareness train. Cancel culture, pronoun policing and other utopian tactics lead to a reactionary element of Dark Enlightenment atheists who were true to their epistemology, seeing the Nash Equilibrium socialist concept of universal morality as hypocritical, if we're going to be atheists let's just admit we're also Social Darwinists. It was in this moment that Trump was elected, the bar for protestant support became so low just a token acknowledgement between porn actress scandals was enough, like how he'd talk past Alex Jones and Alex Jones gleefully talked past him. Then you had for instance Dasha Nevraskova in a sailor outfit saying "I just want people to have healthcare honey" and 3 years later she's saying "in this world where nothing makes sense, why not be a Catholic?", and then a few years later we're seeing an uptick in social-media induced conversions to Islam as well as, conversely, witchtok, where people are out there doing spells based on a 15 second video challenge.
So what do I see in Islam?
1) I get a lot out of the regular prayer, God is real and this form of worship seems to be doing things for my relationship with God, prostrating feels good, I pray outside usually and it's lovely.
2) Discipline made me a proper grown man, the Dante's Inferno hell instead of the Jean Paul Satre metaphorical separation punishment actually got me serious to fix my sins.
3) Unitarian Christianity plus 2 billion co-religionists even if many of them are nuts, philosophically in 6th grade or literally possessed by evil spirits.
4) Mysticism that's unitarian vs. the hesychasm I could have imbibed if I converted to Orthodoxy.
5) Like most people who have a spiritual journey, I'm experiencing that I am being guided by God to participate in growth, learning and increased charitable encounters, as well as:
6) it's not every century that someone can become a contributor to a major religious reformation.
Islam has a huge churn rate for converts, the Salafi protestantism makes this particularly acute as often-demonically-possessed jahils will bombard the new convert, especially women (who constitute 75% of the convert flow), with a seemingly endless array of hadith-based injunctions from the expansive 7k Sahih Bukhari (whereas the Muwatta of Imam Malik which I respect as sociologically accurate, maybe not quite divine injunction, has a few hundred hadith at most). They are told they have to divorce their husbands, it's all or nothing, never listen to music (at the expert level of Sunnism, scholars know this is much more fuzzy and contextual than the culture-level admonition proscribes), do an endless list of things, your prayer is invalid if one thing is imperfect, etc.
The Quranist reaction is to try and throw out all the cultural context around interpreting Qur'an and go sola scripture on just that, a much more narrow text, but we're all interpreting with a matrix whether we are aware of it, and modernity creeps in, leading to more ecumenical readings which I believe from historical evidence was the intended meaning at the time of revelation.
Which brings me to reason #7:
Why is there modernity? If it's not for the atheist reason, people shedding religion as a shackel, then it's by the guidance of God. In Christian exceptionalism it's the feel-good vibes from the gospel that motivated this, but why the 1500 years of Albigenisian crusade, burning heretics, feudalism, Roman Empire and so on? In my research I've come to the strong conclusion that the kernals in the Qur'an supporting democracy (Surah Ashura), just war doctrine (Surah Baqarah and Hajj) religious pluralism (Surah Hajj, 4:77, 5:69) the use of reason and value of scientific investigation (rhetorically implored throughout) and the historical chain of Mutazilites, psuedo-Ismaelis like Ibn Sina lead to the Aquinas paradigm of scholasticism as well as a few other vectors that precipitated the reformation. That the Free Masons are kinda evil oligarchs is incidental, the Lord works in mysterious ways, they did their part with the founding of the USA and the global shift towards freedom of speech and worship.
Is Satan responsible for the USA? Or is God? If it's God then the Qur'an is in the stack trace. Conversely! If it's Satan, then the Qur'an is in the stack trace, pick one. I don't think it's appropriate for Christians to assume a 3rd opinion of just a highly virulent opportunistic scam, surely God's provenance doesn't work that way other than as a test. But, even if the Qur'an was opportunistic, Satan definitely twisted what was good in it and made it a contradiction unto itself in the practice of hadith-abrogation, just war became expansionist empires, free slaves in Surah 91 as a prime good became perpetually excused slavery, marrying them became twisted in translation to abusing them, and so on. It's very sad but God surely permits religions to become distorted as a test.
Every triumphalist dogma that an institutional form of religion has been preserved by God to stay correct has been used to excuse mass atrocities.
Peace be upon you,

What Gulathnia always lacked in cultivation, they made up for it in the marvels that their world and cultivators created. It is because of this that the map of Gulathnia includes 14 continents, 10 on land, 1 above the ground and 3 underwater they go as so:

• Philidel: Northwest
• Bronzewin: East
• Glupnia: Centre
• Brizigna: West
• Bricha and Grigla: South and South West (they’re connected) Practically 1 continent)
• Auslinia: South East
• Brockhavvelin: South East, above Auslinia
• Flaumbunt: Bottom of the world map
• Brunchin: North West and South East, at 2 corners of the map
• Highland: West of the centre and floating above the other continents
• Aquafina: Exactly in the same position as Highland in its current position
• Glubnuke: South West, at the corner where a large ocean resides with few islands
• Hydraniliion: In the deep black below the ocean floors and only accessible from a giant trench in between Brizignia and Glupnia.

Since there is so much space and land on Gulathnia, many groups and powers have sprung up in the modern age and can become, at least, a noticeable threat to the ancient families and organisations. Such modern powers include:

• The Sichuan Alluring Sect is a sect that exists in Gigwan’s central plains of Sichuan. As its name implies, its disciples train in the arts of seduction and learn a cultivation style that increases their beauty. Unlike how their traditions and cultivation arts may allude, the sect does not go around as hostesses or escorts and is instead a secluded sect. Practicing dual cultivation with their sect members, the sect uses the advantage of cloning technology to produce people with pure yin bodies or pure yang bodies while also precuring those they can find outside the sect. Currently, the sect has 14 different clones, 3 pure yin bodies and 11 pure yang bodies. The sect uses them to attain higher levels of cultivation and uses their key aspect of dual cultivation to develop techniques from body strengthening, rejuvenation techniques, power boosting pills and techniques that allows Sichuan Alluring Sect cultivators to take a person’s cultivation level, cultivation roots and lifespan. To better accomplish this, they train their disciples in alluring techniques that will throw their target into a trance and make their bodies do as they bid. This is only secondary to their actual powers which is very strong thanks to their high levels of cultivation and the power of their sect that they would never be able to establish in the Immortal Realm under normal circumstances.
• Bone Crystallization Sect lives in the Brunchin continent’s hidden ravine and houses 1330 members. Using their Bone Crystallization technique, the sect members either harden their bones time and time again with physical reinforcement and then with cultivation. The other half of the sect allows the bones to go wild without causing their body to become less efficient in combat or harm them in any way. From creating a powerful exoskeleton to bone armour arm blades and more, the other half experiences greater results as they cultivate and train than compared to the other half which chooses to instead temper the bones. Colloquially called ingrown and outergrown, the two have their own advantages, the ingrown bone sect members take longer to reach higher tiers but have more meaningful growth and can be stealthy. The outergrown members experience more explosive growth and can progress further faster but aren’t of the same strength as an ingrown in the same tier. When the situation calls for it, an ingrown will allow the outergrown techniques to activate, increasing their power by tiers depending on if they want to expend their lifeforce or not. There are also those who choose to do a bit of both, allowing the two techniques to resonate and apply the tempered growth of power from an ingrown while also having more bone to work with. This is also the trend that experienced outergrown Bone Crystallization Sect members undertake when they experience bottlenecks in the upper stages.
• The Dragons Blood family is not only a rare family with ties to dragons but also has the duty of safeguarding the Dragon clan and receiving rewards in the form of dragon blood from all the different dragon factions.
• The Dragon clan is a clan that lives in another dimension that can only be accessed through special gates that not only need a large amount of cultivation resources but also several specific keys on a certain day a year. Even having 1 dragon appear in the cultivation world is a serious situation since a dragon has immense power and even greater benefits if one can kill it. It is for these reasons that the Dragon clan quickly went from a rare sight to an established power to a danger to prey for the Immortal Realm. If not for a mysterious benefactor saving them at their darkest hour and taking the 30,000 strong dragon clan through a portal, the Dragon clan would have been made extinct by the strongest cultivators, all the factions and even other dragons who sold themselves into servitude.

When the Dragon clan went through the portal, they arrived in Gulathnia and were given a rule not to cause trouble. Since the world was so weak in dao energy, the appearance of a dragon would act like a beacon, but thanks to the quick work of the dragons, they created the gate and made the land of dragons. Now the Dragon Blood family guards the portal, keeping each relic under heavy security in different locations. Should the day come where the dragons can hold their heads high, they will emerge from the dimension and walk among them, otherwise, the dragons lay low.
The reason mortal legends exist and can become so strong is that although they are normal people living in an unnatural world, they still take in spiritual power and dao energy. The energies causes their bodies to react and adjust with a small chance of happening because they adapt to the trace amounts of dao energy in the air. Those who have caused significant changes in the world or its history with little to no cultivation will awaken as a mortal legend with other people simply being lucky. At the same time, some people see becoming a mortal legend as unfortunate because the bodies which have adapted to take in and solidify the trace amounts of dao energy find it harder to cultivate for the same amount of achievements. This isn’t to say that mortal legends can’t learn martial arts or cultivation or witchcraft or something else, more so that it becomes increasingly harder the stronger the person. As a result of this, mortal legends are evened out in the spectrum because although they are stronger in the mortal world of Gulathnia, in the grander scheme of things, they are weak and unlucky. What’s more is that they rarely exceed Immortal with the highest being Established Immortal, only 1 level higher. Important people and those of the highest strength in Gulathnia include:

• Rebidden, Eater Of Cities, is a powerful mortal legend with Demonic Sect heritage who learned to harness his gluttony and tie it with his power of growth via the consumption of potential energy. Originally, this ability was quite minor and made Rebidden a laughingstock of the superhero community. It was only when he reached the level of Sinful Demon that he was able to use his food addiction to his advantage and consumed the rival city of Gridcannon which thought itself as on the same level as the Demonic Sect. Despite the electric net that created all kinds of weapons and the established defences, the Demonic Sect killed all rebels and aggressors to the Imperial family and the Demonic Sect. Combining his 2 traits, the Eater Of Cities enjoys having the power of near indestructibility and how he can replenish his strength by eating even the dirt and concrete to grow and become stronger.
• The Sword Maiden is Philidel’s top swordsman in both strength and technique, thanks to mastering the Philidel explosion cultivation technique. Due to Gigwan already coining the term Sword Saint and Philidel’s religious presence, the master of the sword is referred to as the Sword Maiden. She has proved her strength on multiple occasions and beaten all public and well-known sword experts around the world, only coming to an equal bout with Fraunche, the martial paragon of violence.
• Gluf’fisten is Philidel’s greatest mage with 9 circles and is leading several breakthroughs with his Golden Veined Blood Tower, which is the name of his magic tower. On par with any cultivator, Gluf’fisten ensures that magicians are never looked down on for not being able to attain immortality and he even believes that after attaining 10 circles he will attain immortality. Though an unproven theory, if it is similar enough to cultivation then the 10th circle which is equivalent to the 10th level of cultivation, Immortality, could be true. What’s even more, with the increase in circles and their structure, magicians can attain greater magical powers and other benefits depending on the rings' structures. If the increase in mana is any indication then Gluf’fisten could potentially absorb so much mana that he could undergo a body reformation like martial artists and gain a mana body. A theorised concept of advancement where the body becomes living mana which can disguise or change its physical form at will. As it stands now, Gluf’fisten makes it very public and serious that he believes he will attain that power within the next few years.
• Fraunche is the strongest martial artist with unknown techniques, he eludes the eyes of the government, heroes and Murim forces. Though he isn’t all mysterious, little is known about him even though he was born 173 years ago so either he has great genetics or he has gone through body reformation. Weirdly, such a debate is very contentious but ultimately pointless since he simply wanders the streets and does whatever he wants while seemingly having a moral code that no one can figure out due to contradictions. What is known is that he will not comply with what he doesn’t believe in, like when he killed a murderer and refused to be arrested, leading him to strike blows with the Sword Maiden. Or when he committed accidental manslaughter when throwing a pineapple at a wall at hyper-speed. After his sentence he broke out without anyone being able to stop him, easily taking down several mortal legends, mercenaries and even an armed armada. To the Gigwan government, he is a scourge upon their legacy that they try to keep under wraps since he continues to attend yoga class, bingo night and exercise groups. Yet at the end of every week, Fraunche only seems to get stronger, something that is believable but also unfathomable since he spends his nights and weekends on his mountain where he trains non-stop.
• Hiolnus tries to act like a normal man while regularly throwing his name, authority and power around to get what he wants. While living in a downtown area in Gigwan, he batters people trying to mug him and the barista gets his order wrong he uses his titles. Though not a bad man, he is somewhat obnoxious when people think they can be assholes around him. For the most part, he spends his time at home cultivating and periodically coming out with life-extending pills, something he gave to his parents until he found out they were selling them online to raise cash for his asshole of a sister’s niece whom she leverages with people for sympathy donations. It doesn’t matter that the mom is dating a rich politician and that she has cut off ties with her family, she is still somehow their favourite, leading Hiolnus to force his parents to ingest the pills until they are ready to die.
• Titan, the apex predator of humanity, although man is not a predator species, Tian seemingly defies that notion. Using his incredible knowledge of medicine, biology, science and fitness, Titan his engineered his body to its true limits. Rediscovering and enhancing even the Immortal Realm’s cybernetic cultivation, Titan has become a power beyond belief and has even accessed the Immortal Realm many times. Although the backlash from tribulation thunder and the Immortal Realm simply swatting away the constructs by Titan to look into it. The knowledge Titan has gleamed has allowed him to go even higher, reaching the level of Advanced Immortal, 2 levels higher than Established Immortal.
• Sea King Atlas, hailing from the Ocean God Clan, is a powerful martial artist who is both the ligitimate heir of the clan and the victor of the clan leader life or death cup. Although his clan is a peaceful one who enjoys the riches or tourism and underwater resources that they can monopolise, King Atlas is not a man to trifle with. Unlike the normal attitudes of their people, when it comes to the competition where all those wishing to compete to become clan head compete. All of the Ocean God clan revert to their primal instincts by ripping apart all those who harm the sanctity of the competition and will show an unrivaled fury to fellow competing players. When Atlas won the last competition, he caused tsunamis as big as the Burj Khalifa, a sign of the ocean that it agreed and like his rise to power. Atlas also ended the seas with ease by using a swing of his trident which is the sign of the clan head. With Atlas as the leader, the Ocean God clan has expanded rapidly in population and has become more forceful with their territorial rights, making sure to put in levies.
  
• Demon Sword Iclus fought in the tribulation wars which allowed the Sword Maiden Ilinis to see a breakthrough in her training. Though Iclus also uses knight cultivation, he defies the standard themes and is more in line with the Demonic Sect. Although he is not part of the Demonic Sect, people often distinguish them as the same due to insufficient understanding. But both sides do not allow this to sway them with Iclus especially standing tall despite his cultivation which is geared towards the eventual mantle of the holy sword Excalibur.
  

In a tragic story, Iclus was forced to witness a brutal scene of his family getting murdered while his eyes were forced open by hooking his eyelids. In these moments of extreme torture and obsession for vengeance and to save his family, Iclus unlocked his demonic heart and broke free from his restraints, gaining greater power in exchange for his demonic heart awakening which would eventually turn him evil. Despite the murderers being a part of a criminal syndicate looking for the parents’ stash and were of at least the 6th tier. Iclus slaughtered them after all his family had died, only being able to save his immature half-brother fetus that his mother had cheated on her husband to create. To save him, Iclus put the divine fetus in his demonic heart, taking out the demon sword that the family was hiding in Iclus’s heart. Now wielding the prototype of Excalibur which had spent centuries bathed in demonic and dark elements, the knight orders finally arrived and attacked Iclus for tainting their path to Excalibur. But Iclus would not fall then and there as he got back up from the sword apostles and their thousand demons purification technique. After killing them, Iclus instantly became an international enemy to the world and was forced onto the run, killing those who would harm his brother and allowing those who were filled with good to live.
Over the years, the death count of those who have encountered Iclus has grown and he has eventually decided to station himself in the holy city of Riona, a city that is said to be where the Gulathnia god stepped before evaporating. The very town centre altar has become his place of rest and the city has become a desert with only the tallest buildings standing up as a tiny amount. What’s more, is that the prototype sword Dialthala has laid out its domain, protecting both Iclus and his half-brother Ímisy who shines with the light of life itself in its golden splendour, contrasted with his purple lines from the demonic heart he had partially absorbed while being incubated in Iclus’s heart. Even Excalibur failed to destroy the sanctuary after receiving the aid of many spirit-wielders who were used as conduits.

• Known as the pioneer and founder of magician cultivation, Elysium had vanished once he gave the people; wands for short and fast spell casting; staffs for stronger and longer-ranged spells; and the basic formulas that allows people to use these devices or go barehanded. Elysium had resurfaced after 300 years, in the present, going around and cleaning up the criminal syndicates and gangs that sprang up while he was away, leading to Gluf’fisten arrogantly warning Elysium. Now anyone who has read anything knows that when a senior comes along, you don’t mess with them for 1 reason, they are stronger than you in whatever they are your senior in. Hence why when Elysium heard this and got lectured even harder when he told Gluf’fisten to back off, well let’s just say things didn’t go well. He started by wooping Gluf’fisten’s ass using his new invention which essentially gives Elysium’s spells godmode with each attack carry the mind of a divine and having infinite patterns as every molecule shifts and turns like rubix cube when given a magical injection like a laser. Elysium then proceeded to go on his own rant about how he is always going to be the top dog after he transformed refiners who mixed enchanted goods to create magical artefacts into words that reshaped the world. Additionally, even though he doesn’t care or research the mana body, Elysium is far more powerful with only his 6 rings, a limit he had to surpass since his body could only handle that many. He, instead, focused on enhancing the circles themselves, turning what is essentially a donut-shaped piece of paper into a donut-shpaed piece of brick. He then flexed all his earlier works that are still beyond Gluf’fisten, even though he went into a coma for 300 years. Finally, he finished by threatening the whole world with a cultivator bomb that would disintegrate anything with dao energy until there is non left to find. It was then that he realised he was starting to let go and recollected himself, kicking Gluf’fisten out of his pocket dimension, finished removing all the organised crime and then left, leaving the police and governments to try and impossibly keep the world without such criminal powers.

In Gulathnia, martial artists, cultivators, cybernetic cultivators, swordsmen, mages, sorcerers, and others train to go beyond their limits to new tiers of power and have different struggles and levels. Though the cybernetic cultivators have fewer stages, the potential of seeing beyond the Heaven Realm where only the True Immortals can go is removed. It is also very costly and taxing on the person until they make it to the 6th stage of cybernetic cultivation, the chances of dying are extremely high from pain alone and going beyond that will require otherworldly materials and supplies. While cultivators might be able to get to Immortal and higher, when they reach the difficult stages for the Immortal Realm, the struggles are impossibly higher with 3 parts between each stage, beginner to seasoned to peak. Each cultivation tear is different for their own reasons and even if they have the same number, the understandings and experiences needed to go that high is different. Taking martial artists for example; they cannot simply go up in these levels, which are moreso arbitrary and mark someones power rather than an actual level. Instead, martial artists must enforce both the body and mind like cultivators, making it so when they reach the peak and start hitting repetitive body reformations, their skills must also be improved to continually align their talents and strength. Another thing to note with these systems is that even if the cultivation path is the same as other worlds, the alterations that Gulathnia cultivators and general populations have made for the thinned dao energy means that in other worlds it would only make the progress incredibly slow but slightly stronger than others. If a Gulathnia cultivator made it to another world of cultivation, even in a mortal realm, to use their style effectively, several other people would need extreme concentration and durability to help that cultivator. Though the benefits would be large, even for rich families the method is unvieble since its like making a bodybuilder bend backwards and twist their body to suck their own dick, extremely hard and near impossible. Even if someone transitioned to the normal method after using this method, they would need to rework their foundation and possibly go back several steps, not because it is wrong or weaker but because it simply isn’t built that way. Hence what makes the Gulathnia practitioners of various styles so special any why their levels work like so:
Cultivators:

1. Dao Energy Establishment
2. Heavenly Meridian
3. Superior Passion
4. Dao Energy Taming
5. Golden Core
6. Divine Resolve
7. Refined Mortality
8. Pre-Immortal
9. Emerging Immortal
10. Immortal
11. Established Immortal
12. Experienced Immortal
13. Advanced Immortal
14. Veteran Immortal
15. Resolute Immortal
16. Holy Immortal
17. Immortal Half-Saint
18. Immortal Saint
19. Divine Immortal
20. True Immortal
21. Unknown

Cybernetic cultivators:

1. Dao Energy Code Establishment
2. Perfected Meridians
3. Unbreaking heart
4. Immortal Mind
5. Steel Body
6. Surpassing Pain
7. Unhuman
8. Transcendent
9. Beyond Life
10. 6th Sense

Martial artists:

1. Dao Spirit Essence
2. [Input fighting style, eg fists, swords, etc] Practitioner
3. Intermediate [Input fighting style]
4. Experienced [Input fighting style]
5. Expert [Input fighting style]
6. Master [Input fighting style]
7. Superior [Input fighting style]
8. [Input fighting style] Saint
9. Body Reformation
10. Body Reformation
11. Body Reformation
12. Body Reformation
13. Body Reformation
14. Body Reformation
15. Immortal Body Reformation
16. Body Reformation
17. It then progresses with more body reformations with individuals making discrepancies and their own terms for people who reach new heights in their techniques.

Magician:

1. First Circle
2. Second Circle
3. Third Circle
4. Fourth Circle
5. Fifth Circle
6. Sixth Circle
7. Seventh Circle
8. Eigth Circle
9. Ninth Circle
10. Tenth Circle
11. Since a 10 circle magician is required to even attempt a Mana body and any more circles would rip a human body apart, going further is pointless unless someone can attain it and even if they do, it is simply adding more circles or making the body its own mana circuit.

Knight:

1. Apprentice
2. Sword Soul Searching
3. Soul Sword
4. Sword Alignment
5. Knight
6. Aura Knight
7. Sword Apostle
8. Sword Maiden
9. Sword King
10. Excalibur’s Chosen

Shaman:

1. Darkness practitioner
2. Honoured Knife
3. Descended God
4. At this point the Shaman will change from a simple shaman to a class like eldritch paladin or death’s hand.

Rune crafter:

1. Novice
2. Standard
3. Expert
4. Inspired
5. Inventor

Spirit-wielder:

1. Spirit Listener
2. Spirit Practitioner
3. Spirit Advocate
4. Spirits’ Voice
5. Human-Spirt Coalescence

Refiner:

1. Tier 1 refiner
2. Tier 2 refiner
3. Tier 3 refiner
4. Tier 4 refiner
5. Tier 5 refiner
6. Tier 6 refiner
7. Tier 7 refiner
8. Tier 8 refiner
9. Tier 9 refiner
10. Tier 10 refiner
11. Tier 11 refiner
12. Tier 12 refiner
13. Tier 13 refiner
14. You get the picture

Excalibur is a mythical sword of the Gulathnia continent and was said to be forged by the world itself in its dying embers, like a fetus becoming a galaxy but dying before it could reach its full potential so it transferred its last embers. It is said by the Philidel continent that their god will one day resurrect and carry them to the Immortal Realm to live a life of true virtue and good by their belief to it. It is this story that makes Excalibur such a legendary sword that would contest with the highest-tiered and most valued weapons in the Heaven Realm. Though the highest their people has reached is Sword Maiden, if they wield the power of Excalibur, they would have the strength of a thousand sons at their event horizon giving their life for every slash. In the world of Gulathnia, the power of Excalibur only grows and allows it to show its sword spirit to the people and spread the word of the church while being followed by spirit wielders she has made a contract with.
The contact from the other realms have been extremely infrequent but have indeed happened. Such instances are:

• The heavenly tribulation of 96: Being a collaborative experiment with various powers, the plan was for a cultivator, a practitioner who aims to surpass mortal life, to ascend to the Immortal Realm. The trouble though was that such an event was rare and even for those who are stronger than the ones that have entered the Immortal Realm, heavenly tribulation has caused their deaths. So using a cultivator with the greatest strength, control, resilience and ability to remain calm, various powers and forces aided the project so that they could see what a world of cultivation could bring to the table. The result was 96 heavenly tribulation thunderbolts that coincided with the year and seemed to ramp up the intensity because of the blasphemy, this brought the highest level of tribulation thunder, purple, something that could tickle true-immortals. Going against a sword formation, thousands of magic spells and tools, cultivation talismans and dual techniques, massive infrastructure developments to redirect lightning and offset damages and lightning attribute cultivators. The result was astonishing but predictable, the cultivator at the centre of it died with everything set up getting overwhelmed and there being no survivors in the project. The result was that 95.9 of the heavenly tribulation thunderbolts were off-shot, recycled for clean energy or dissipated with the 0.1 part of the thunderbolt scraping the cultivator who fused with the lightning, resulting in an explosion 7x that of Hiroshima.
• Invasion by the Xing clan is a massive conflict involving the remnants of a fleeing clan from persecution after sacrificing 10 million cultivators to train their violet-green soul tempering technique. Looking for somewhere to hide, various members scattered but when they came across Gulathnia, Xing clan members rallied to Gulathnia. This led to a massive war with the Xing clan for the fate of Gulathnia and its residents, spanning many years due to the Immortal Realm cultivators being of levels far surpassing normal people. This caused a massive period of destruction and rebuilding where Gulathnia was required to be saved by Gulathnia-born who returned to Gulathnia to save it or Immortals chasing the Xing clan. In the end, Gulathnia would be known for its uniqueness and interesting qualities but would quickly go back to being simply another world. But this isn’t to say the Xing clan is dealt with, in truth, most of the Xing clan are surviving in no man's lands around the world, like the darkness under the world, saving their strength for a time to return.
• The attempted conquest of the Grizan people is a well-known war worldwide because the Grizans decided to invade the rest of the world 30 years after rescuing their lands from foreign interests. Even their previous allies who advocated for less strenuous borders became their enemies after they were the first to be invaded for lax precautions. The Grizan people flooded every continent using 13 tier 7 ships, a disgustingly low refiner level since they only focused on cultivation and weapon training. Nevertheless, the rest of the world was not prepared for tens of thousands from each ship spewing forth, the saddest part being that they couldn’t even harm the freshly made ships that packed a lot of heat. Only thanks to the Xing clan emerging did the Grizans calm down, only to immediately return to operations after the immortals left and Gulathnia-born who transcended or hid went back to their business. Thankfully, the world knew that the Grizans were a shifty people since they were one of the most reserved factions against the Xing clan and many Grizans simply decided to go to the Immortal Realm since it was their once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Unfortunately for the Grizans, the world’s preparations paid off and they launched nuclear missiles that were designed to split into a bunch of shelves holding weapons of all sorts. Those weapons would carry the power of nuclear energy and be used by martyrs who would have made the world tremble after the war if they didn’t sacrifice their lives in a split second to create millions of nuclear explosions on Grizan that carried their wills, whether that be cultivation; martial or otherwise. With their lands destroyed, the Grizans had no choice but to retreat and heal the lands before the fallout damaged the dragon veins. This only made things more devious when entire armies of assassins, trained to kill in one hit and move as fast as lightning, charged out and died in droves so they could scratch the clothes of each Grizan which caused the poison to react violently and kill off emerging immortals, leaving the few pre-immortals to surrender. But this didn’t stop the war, despite the costs, as it left the many soldiers and civilians who wanted to step on ants fight furiously, often to their last breath. The world was left reeling, so much so that even Hydranillion was spared momentarily from the Grizan assault. But now in the modern era, they are peaceful after learning that the world will fight tooth and nail to avoid the hellscape that the Grizans openly mocked, wishing to make Grizans a “superior breed” and turn the world into their slaves.

TW// abuse, violence, su*c*de
For the sake of the post, I will try to be frank about this situation. I've done horrible things in my life to those closest to me. those that love me and forgive me over and over and over. things i never in my life thought i might be capable of doing.
I (J) originally met my boyfriend (F) in middle school when we were 13. We have a long history of some flirting and eventually a couple sexual things, but mostly just being close friends up until we started dating. Fast forward to college, he confided in me that he was cheated on by his previous girlfriend, and soon after we began dating, I cheated on him with that same person while keeping us dating a secret. This person was someone we regularly hung out with within our circles.
He found out, asked me to stop, but I lied and continued to do it. I gaslit him about how it wasn’t true so I could continue. I liked how it made me feel like I could be attractive to someone others found attractive, and “testing” my attraction to men. When he found out by seeing the texts on his own sister’s phone he let me borrow, I lashed out at him and we broke up.
Shortly after, he would drive me to and from work while my license was revoked for months, but I also used that favor for reasons like seeing a girl who was cheating on her husband. At a point I was arrested and put in jail on a bench warrant. He waited for me for 6 hours, having been bailed by him. Him loving me and wanting to do anything for me, I essentially had shut off my empathy to justify my own wants before I cheated and it was easy to accept the help.
After using him for months, we began having sex and dating. Around then, he had also given me his own school money at the cost of his own ability to attend. This was particularly devastating as school meant a lot to him. (I have since failed, leaving us both without a degree.) When we opened up the relationship (originally my own idea for myself and with only women), it was due to my cheating again that led to an ultimatum to make it fully open. I originally agreed, but harassed potential partners accusing him of cheating and scaring them away when the furthest that had happened was them emotionally supporting him.
During this time, I drank a lot and became violent, mostly to take out my anger on him regarding being open. I've beaten him up several times but he never fought back. To internalize his own pain instead of doing things like punching holes in walls, I caused him to begin cutting himself. His thighs have been filled with possibly a hundred scars. He specifically keeps them in locations hidden by his underwear to avoid exposing my abuse to anyone, including for my sake.
All of our fights have been started by me, attacking his character and yelling vile untruths about him. During one of them, he shoved a screwdriver through his own hand (and I’ve bitten another finger so badly years after) that he has lost feeling in those fingers. it affects his ability to do things he loves like playing games or guitar. I’ve made him give up on most of his hobbies and interests, partially because of his fingers.
I harassed him in several compromised positions, like while he’s at work or while being abused by his mother. His mother had been very abusive prior to any of this his whole life, and was something I was acutely aware of. His mother even drove his father to su*c*de. I often piggybacked off and even mirrored her abuse. I caused him to lose every job he’s ever had prior to his current one, all with horrible endings.
I’ve wasted so much money over the years as a direct result from my abuse, which became his problem as he does the finances. I’ve done this to self-soothe in ways that I really didn’t need or by stopping him from paying bills.
Fast forward some, I falsely accused him of rape not long ago. him being is black, this caused him to be in great danger and smeared his reputation among our friends. He was left to dispel the rumors alone to clear his name, but only recently has any of this been admitted by me.
Some time after this, I created a post on reddit describing him as abusive and asking for help/advice on how to best ‘get away’. I accepted everyone’s sympathies and played into this in the comments, essentially flipping the actual roles. This false narrative helped me mentally and was used as an avenue on how to leave the relationship. When confronted, I didn’t even remember doing it. But upon recognizing this post, I falsely equated it to many instances of snooping through his computer. I’ve since changed my passwords/lock screen while he’s kept his passwords the same.
About a year ago, he became friends with someone very much like him and became close. This set off jealousy and I chose to repeatedly harass her, who innocently helped him feel better. He's repeatedly said she had saved his life. She has a hard life herself (including a father she lost to su*c*de) and didn’t deserve it. Harassing her led to her growing actual romantic feelings with him at this point, wanting to save him and leading me to constantly accuse him of cheating.
In general, I’ve had the cops called on us many, many times. This again put him in direct danger, especially since we’re in a southern state. The situation was so obvious to the police (there were times with visible scratches and marks on him), they immediately sympathized and understood he was the victim. I have done a number of things that would put me in jail, had he not literally begged to just put me through anger management.
In the history of 15 years together, all of the steps of abuse have occurred and he is still trying to heal from my using various methods to dehumanize him.I’ve been cruel in ALL of our fights, which by now are hundreds. I’ve used various delusional descriptions of betrayal, accusing him of enjoying things that don’t match who he is. I’ve often accused him of things i’ve done myselfThis has led to many instances of him running through the streets in his underwear out of desperation, choosing to sleep on the floor outside He spends all sorts of time and energy slaving away at the cost of his own self-improvement, education, and the ability to get away; making food, doing most housework, all finances, you name it. it might be worth noting that i'm disabled so, in general, he's more than happy to help and i do sincerely need it. I also have a number of mental illnesses and a personality disorder, so he's extended understanding to such an immense degree it's crazy.
This is in combination with our history, my lack of consistent compassion and therefore no healing (things only get worse and worse), his su*c*dal ideation, and consistent forgiving.
why not just stop? why not just stop taking him for granted? these things, after a point, are unforgivable and a choice. a BIG part of my ability to repeat these choices have been crazy escapism and intense, constant dissociation.
A choice i’ve made consistently is having a crazy lack of empathy, especially in the moments when i'm ragesplitting and yelling while he's just crying, asking for me to stop. these years of dissociation have led to a lot of inability to completely process what i've actually done, if anyone needs some sort of explanation.
he's almost a foil to me, honestly. i have so much respect for his lucidity, compassion, intelligence, and ability to understand situations in so many ways that I simply cannot.
he’s recently reconnected with his wealthy family who reached out to him, love him and want to support him. Despite him avoiding them out of fear of being a problem for them. He worried his grandmother will have to witness him commit su*c*de as well.
what's the point of this entire post? Because i have failed the conditions of our relationship completely. Seeking advice online anonymously was one of the conditions for the continuation of the relationship, including therapy, safe words, and initiating talks about our relationship.
Therapy happened, but I’ve failed to prioritize what I can do to help heal him, have and at the very least not continue to use him as collateral damage to my own externalizing of anger, pain, etc. I didn’t do any of my conditions consistently, for reasons like not wanting to face the truth and how it’s easier to avoid it by using escapisms. Our lease has since ended 3 days ago and the conditions were to happen by the end of it.
i really just want any advice on any of this. what can I do to try and heal him as much as I can?
any amount of advice, any amount of feedback, anything is welcome.
TLDR; i’ve put my partner through all the steps and forms of abuse such as (violence and isolation) for 15 years, causing him to self-harm, have su*c*dal ideation, and a number of horrific things. I’ve failed to meet all conditions by the deadline, which was 3 days ago. How can i help him heal?

It has some allusion to previous events but its pretty much a stand alone. Is still a first draft so there will be a good bit of issues regarding tense/spelling/grammar. Im a bit worried that she comes across a bit cartoonishly evil in this. Thanks for anyone who reads it!

On a small island tucked away from the rest of the world there is a small island nation known as Gallania. Whilst small this island holds immense power, both economically and militaristically. It, however, has been caught within a war for the past thirty days. A vicious civil war which has levelled towns and farms, churches and cities. Blood has been spilled from that of the youngest childs to the oldest elder, bleaching the country in a hue that history will not forget for as long as it exists. This has been a war of two sides. The royal family led by his royal majesty Rodger the third of the Wintercrest bloodline, seventy-eighth king of the Gallanic kingdom. On the other side was a woman no older than twenty. You may wonder how a girl too young to even be wed has brought a nation to its knees, it truly was a tale. See her now as she rides on horseback, getting ready to establish her rebellion in the annals of history.

 \\\* \\\* \\\* 

Elizabeth’s hair was neatly tied into princess braids as she marched her army out of Deniville. The thirty days of this conflict had led to this moment. She had the support of seventeen of the eighteen noble families, the greatest wizards the island has ever known, the economic drivers of the kingdom itself. To stand against her was to stand against a movement of absolute certainty, not one house had been able to successfully defy her, yet the daft king himself Rodger thought himself capable. It had been hard in the early days, a strategy required to woo the noble houses. For some she presented herself as a maiden, her language flowery and poetic, others she decimated in combat, regardless, one by one they fell in line. By the time the fifth house had fallen under her command others were offering themselves up to save the brutality. When some banded together to stop her she decimated their troops in combat, better yet in other occasions their troops simply refused orders and joined her. She had begun her conquest at the northernmost tip of the island and marched ever southwest along its crescent shape, weaving into towns to collect goods as the need arose. It all led to the moment she marched past her hometown.
She thought back to the days in which her father still lived and breathed. What would he have thought of the woman she had become, the knowledge of those thoughts had been robbed from her. Her soldiers marched through town, across the bridge, through the Maesters estate, her estate. She could see statues of her father Erikson in the corners of her eyes as she passed by, she ignored them. The capital was a mere few hour horse ride from their estate, it provided an economic boost her father had always said. Funny how little economics did to stop a slave girl driving a knife through one's throat. Venom filled her eyes as she tightened her grip on her horse's reins, she kicked his underbelly urging the stallion forward. As it picked up in speed the banner that Elizabeth was holding flapped in the wind, her troops invigorated and redoubled their efforts, they would be at the Capital far faster than mere hours.
The rolling plains stretched out, beautiful had it not been for the fires raging. She had taken too long to unify the nation under her banner, banditry had begun to spread, troops who fled command were looted from the commoners. Her wrath would fall down upon those who capitalised on these moments of the nation's weakness a hundredfold. She, however, could spare no soldiers to assist the townspeople, not yet at the very least. The city of Felt approached in the distance, its well crafted stone brick walls arising over the earth's curvature. The sounds of weeping could be heard before they were in ear shot. The sight of the cities collective fear wafted above them, a haze that could be cut with a knife were it big enough. In a moment she judged that they were within trebuchet range. The sun hung low in the sky, the world was painted red for the final bloody day of the revolt.
Slowly Elizabeth's troops began to approach her. She dismounted her horse, walking in front of her army with nothing but thin steel plates serving as armour and her banner staff. She waited for what could have been either ten minutes or ten hours, her entire army of thirty thousand coming to a halt.
“We come here today for unity. For peace. We do not bring war, they bring it through their resistance. To the Gallanic kingdom, and the empire we shall birth on this day.” Silence. Utter silence. A clap, then two. The crowd erupted, cheers, shouts. Her words had carried far, almost like a beacon of her ideals her message was carried to even those who could not hear it. That included her enemies hundreds of metres away. She waited, they would send a messenger. When one came she was waiting. He was young, no older than fifteen, most likely closer to thirteen. His hair was a dirty orange, odd for these parts of the world. His teeth were crooked, an awkward but genuine smile on his face. He wore the shirt of a commoner as he walked towards Elizabeth, a smile on his face. They shook hands. He went to stab her neck. He collapsed to the ground before the blade was in an arm's distance of her. She stomped on his neck, a wet crunch as he died.
“Long live the Gallanic empire!” She shouted, only just loud enough for a few to hear, yet everyone knew what she had said. The response was deafening. “Long live Elizabeth. Long live Elizabeth.”
The battle was underway, she was entirely aware as the trebuchets were loaded and then launched. They flew through the air, bundles of rocks in a white tarp aiming for the walls of Felt. She glared at the bundles, a chill biting up both her arms as all of the bundles ignited into flames. They smashed into the walls, carrying through them and landing in the city behind. The fire worked fast, lighting and spreading. The walls began to crumble, the holes deteriorating the support which they had. Elizabeth brought her banner staff down. Without speaking, the infantry began its march. The next round of trebuchet’s launched. She once again utilised her magic, she stared at the bundles as they fell towards the wall. She felt the air in her lungs all but disappear as the bundles accelerated to speeds which eclipsed those of arrows. They shot through the wall like a warm knife through butter, screams of the soldiers and civilians alike roared outwards. She began her march forward and the calvary knew it was their time to rush forward. The king had prepared an army to meet her, it of course would not prove useful against her. Like a bubble around her men who served king Richard began to collapse. Any who came too close would fall unconscious. She felt extreme pain wrack her body but ignored it entirely. Her mind fought against itself as she felt herself barraged by thousands of strikes which never occurred. Had they occurred she would be left as nothing but a bloody pulp, long since unconscious from the brutalisation of the abuse she underwent. However they didn’t occur. She couldn’t hold it up for long, about one hundred men fell due to her use of that magic, that was all she had to do. A ring had formed around her, no one wanted to risk coming too close. Her fellow wizards, those who would of course be far weaker then herself sat within this ring, casting spells of devastation which wrought death of untold magnitude on a group of people who voluntarily chose not to fight back. Elizabeth continued her slow, methodical march towards the gate. The third round of the trebuchet was just for show, the walls had already been reduced to rubble. She arrived at the gate, unleashing a gale of wind sending the rubble flying out of her path. Her lungs screamed with their emptiness, yet there was nothing that they could do. The sun had set, yet the world was still red with flame. She continued to walk forward, frowning as she looked down to see the corpse of a woman. The heels of her shoes stabbing through the eye of the woman, coming up covered in gore yet she seemed not to care. Few survived in the square near the entrance, yet more than enough for the cries of civilians to reach her ears. She reassured herself that soon their suffering would be over.

 \\\* \\\* \\\* 

By the time she had reached the palace Rodgers' army had already admitted defeat. Elizabeth's troops swarmed the square assisting all of the civilians they could. She had no need to provide orders to them at this point, everyone knew that her will was absolute. Rodger, his wife and two daughters were guarded by a wizard and two expert swordsmen. The wizard moved to protect them only to find a stone arrow piercing him through his heart. It was an accident that the force of the arrow also tore through the shoulder of the queen, but it no longer mattered. The children cried out in terror as the two swordsmen descended upon her. She turned to look at one of them, their sword raised to decapitate her. They collapsed. Pain throbbed through her body but she carried on. The other moved to stab her through the gut, but when he met her eyes he froze. Elizabeth walked to his side, tenderly touched his face, he fell to his knee’s his blade clattering out of his hand and she moved on. The ground itself began to meld around her, the royal children pushed aside as she approached Rodger, a silver dagger in hand. His screams echoed the castle as his blood drenched the floor's white fur carpet. She took her seat upon the throne, staring at her army as it finished occupying the city of Felt. She felt the weight of the queen's dying body on her foot and kicked it aside. She groaned painfully but that was all she could muster as she landed on her husband's dead body. A smile flickered over her face as the soldier who had fallen to his knees came to bow to her. The children wept. This was a moment that would forever stain history books. This moment marks the end of the thirty one day war.

Chapter Three
Bezila nathi. They mourn with us. Nanil the slave girl was the one to find the master’s body, with the mistress arriving soon after and melting down hysterically. Mistress Komwono’s demanding, pompous sister, Lady Mistress Morongo, arrives with her nine sons to help run the household. After the discovery, Mistress Komwono takes to her bed, refuses food, and sleeps on the floor at night because she feels that there is a spirit coming to her.
Several days later, the master’s family arrives along with more members of the mistress’s family. Master Komwono’s youngest brother has one of the twin servants beat Nanil, believing she practiced witchcraft that killed the master. He spreads rumors in the street that devilry set upon the Komwono house. A magistrate comes to investigate but can find no cause of death. Neither can fetish priests and Ifa diviners summoned by the youngest brother.
Sogolon hides in the grain keep, forgotten in the hubbub. This is fortunate because she has a bruise below her eye from the master’s attack. She is troubled by dreams in which a voice tells her to run away, run before they find out. Run because soon they know. There is tension and fighting between the master and mistress’s families. Sogolon keeps to herself, watching them all. She feels a change in her body, not like menstruation, but like heat burning her head slow…not an ache, though it feel like a hurt…not unlike the first time somebody give her coffee. The sensation worsens at night and is almost unbearable. Sogolon has flashbacks to the night in the library, touching the boli, seeing the master’s blood flowing down the wall, returning to her room and seeing Nanil leave, knowing what she will soon discover. These flashbacks make Sogolon physically sick.
Mistress Komwono is in a poor state, still confined to her room. The smell is beyond stink. One day, the mistress grabs Sogolon and accuses her of murdering the master: clearly it is not a true accusation but a desperate act of grief. The household holds the master’s funeral. Mistress Komwono dresses in black, the men slaughter a cow in the courtyard, and cook it so that everyone can eat. They swoon and marvel at the wonderful taste, and speak words of praise for the master, who now become one of the ancestors, watching and making judgment of both the living and the dead. A priest sprinkles all of the relatives with holy water and rubs them with herbs to cast out any shadows following them. None of this is offered to the household servants or slaves.
After the funeral, a messenger arrives to summon the Komwonos back to court, by the grace of the Most Excellent Kwash Kagar, King of Fasisi, Emperor of the Northern Lands, Regent of the Valley Territory, and Imperial Cleric of the Divine Regions of Earth and Sky. This news revives Mistress Komwono, and she sends away all the relatives, having guards search each of them as they leave to retrieve what they have stolen from her home. She devotes herself entirely to preparing for court. Mistress Komwono knows this is both a promise and a trap. The King could change his mind on a whim and the trip from the royal enclosure to the royal dungeon can be within the wave of a finger. Or he could call them to court only to taunt them further by declaring himself too busy to see anyone. Mistress Komwono does not send word to the court that her husband has died, saying this is silly mortal business with which the King should not trouble himself. Mistress Komwono doesn’t tell Sogolon why she was banished from court but says that the King Sister was the one who banished her. The mistress was one of her ladies-in-waiting. Sogolon doesn’t understand how the mistress seems to be bearing the grief of losing her husband, because Sogolon herself is still haunted.
The mistress departs for Fasisi in a caravan with Sogolon, one of the twin servants, three mercenaries from the Seven Wings, and the royal escort. She brings many fine things to present to the court, including a chest of silk that Sogolon deeply desires to touch. The mistress and Sogolon ride in the back of the caravan in a compartment lined with cushions, rugs, and furs. Sogolon feels the mistress’s eyes on her at all times, looking like she know this girl is the cause of her sorrow, even if she don’t know how. Sogolon realizes later that this is just the mistress sleeping with her eyes wide open, and she recalls something that Miss Azora used to say: A god watching what you do at night will take over somebody’s sleep, and use their eye as a window. Sogolon’s guilt is following her relentlessly. One morning, the mistress talks about how this court summons must be a trick to embarrass her, played by the King Sister, Princess Jeleza. Sogolon asks why, then, does the mistress still want to go, and she is chastised for her impudence and told to ride outside.
Free of the mistress and the caravan, Sogolon gets to ride a horse for the first time and dreams of doing it again and feeling freedom. She begins sleeping outside with the men. She sees the scenery change, and escort explains what they are seeing along the way. Mistress Komwono gets more excited the closer they get to Fasisi. In Fasisi, women get to keep their wealth and power even after they marry. Even in the royal family, when the King dies, the crown goes to the firstborn son of the King’s oldest sister. The mistress is still wondering why they were invited back at all.
Sogolon observes the men as she spends more time outside and less in the caravan. The Seven Wings mercenaries wear black tunics and blue sashes, with most of their faces covered, but the royal escort is dressed completely differently. He wears all green: green chain mail, green tunic, leather sword belt, and a long flowing green cape. He has fire-golden hair and an almost wild beard. He has a thin face with thick lips looking like he grin ten times more than he scowl, a voice like river flow, and skin like coffee making peace with milk. Sogolon hardly knows the word handsome, but she notices his eyes, and the mischief hiding in that beard. The royal escort bathes while none of the others do, taking all of his clothes off in front of Sogolon. He is a man, not one of the boys she has seen fighting the donga, and he looks like his clothes commit wickedness by hiding him. Sogolon watches him bathe and feels desire. The royal escort says a girl should know how to ride a horse – he will teach Sogolon when she is ready.
Chapter Four
The royal escort, Keme, is telling an origin story about the god of the sky, who had two sons: one with the sun, and one with the moon. The mothers both turned over their sons to the god of the sky, for the responsibility of feeding a child would cause them to starve the universe. The god of the sky names his sons Dumata, he of the orange and purple light, and Durara, skin of he who comes with night rain. The two sons were wild and caused so much trouble in the sky that the god of the sky banished them to the world. Dumata landed in the north, and Durara landed in the south. Each boy sprinkles something to create land, since none yet existed. Dumata creates land that is yellow, hard, and glitters in the daylight. He names it gold. Durara creates land that is hard and white, pale and empty and have no glitter. Durara licks the land and finds the taste pleasing, naming it salt. The boys grew into men, then kings…King of Gold, and King of Salt. In the north, the land was beautiful, the royals were beautiful, but nothing was useful. In the south, everything was useful, but nobody in the lands see anything beyond the use, so there was no pleasure or admiration in it. From those days, the people of the north and the south have been invading and warring to attain some of what the other kingdom has, while the sun and the moon shine down on both kingdoms with equal light, lamenting that people of the earth too stubborn and stupid to get along.
Keme and the Seven Wings mercenaries argue over war and the reasons why men fight them. The mercenaries are cynical and fight for the money, while Keme believes he fights for a cause, for what is worth fighting for. Sogolon observes their conversation and examines Keme and her desire for him. Keme tries to bring her into the conversation, asking what cause she would fight for but she doesn’t have any words. The mercenaries mock Keme for trying to get a woman to think. The next morning, Keme tells Sogolon not to worry about the men because they are all just trying to be the loudest. Sogolon saddles her own horse and says that she didn’t want to pick a cause to fight for because she doesn’t want war. War is always upon us, Keme replies, adding that the King likes peace but the prince may not. The wagers of war in Fasisi are getting closer every day. Keme teaches Sogolon to ride a horse without Mistress Komwono’s knowledge. One evening, Keme spikes Sogolon’s horse and it takes off running. Sogolon holds on and wills herself not to scream as the horse gallops through the landscape, jumping over rocks. She pulls the reins too tight, confusing the horse, but finally she lets up and gently begins to slow the horse and dismounts. When the caravan catches up to her, Keme is smiling and says he was worried for her. Sogolon charges him and knees him in the face, knocking him to the ground. Her fury turns to concern, and she runs to him. Keme looks up, bloodied but smiling: Fuck the gods, you’re a horse lord now, aren’t you?
The caravan arrives in Fasisi, climbing up towards the royal enclosure as the air turns cold. Keme and Sogolon agree it has been a long journey, but he says he will not be totally glad to be done with it. They talk about their childhoods and their families. Sogolon is argumentative but opens up, telling Keme about her father’s madness, her mother’s death, and her brothers’ hatred of her. Keme responds with pity that Sogolon doesn’t want. She says that life takes enough effort to live every day that she does not think back on her past. Keme says he will not forget Sogolon any time soon*.*
Mistress Komwono wakes up confused after unknowingly sleeping for an entire day, thanks to a tea brewed by Sogolon. The caravan enters the nobles’ enclosure, and Sogolon is astounded by its size and commotion. They move through the city, and Mistress Komwono realizes that they are not in the royal enclosure and demands to know why. Keme has brought them to the merchant side of the Ugliko quarter, where they will stay until the King summons them to court. They stay in a large compound for two days, Mistress Komwono complaining all the while. The second night, Sogolon sees Keme in the courtyard, roughhousing with a large male lion. Keme sees Sogolon and invites her around the back of the compound, but she refuses to go.
Lady Mistress Doungourou (LMD), an old court frenemy, visits Mistress Komwono at the compound, where they eat lunch and gossip about the goings-on at court. LMD reports that the Sangomin have taken up residence at the foot of the crown prince, and now women throughout court are being accused of witchcraft, many of them by their own husbands. LMD refers with unease to “the chancellor,” who she blames for this outbreak of accusations. She tells the story of Lady Kaabu, accused of witchcraft by her husband. Once she is accused, the white clay man, this witchfinder came to her home with the strangest children you ever going see. The witchfinder’s children seized Lady Kaabu and attacked several guards who tried to defend her. The witchfinder accused two concubines of being witches also. His children held the women down while he raped them. Mistress Komwono sees that witchcraft has become evil in the eyes of the court in the time she has been banished (which we learn is about five years). LMD reveals that the crown prince is practically in charge of court, because the King is leaving. This phrase confuses Mistress Komwono, before she realizes that “the King near done dead.” She is chastised by LMD because saying such a thing is now considered treason. Mistress Komwono is also baffled by this new chancellor because the King always took counsel from the King Sister. LMD is baffled by Mistress Komwono’s bafflement, because surely the chancellor was always here. The Aesi is with the King from there is a King. And the King don’t have no sister. She thinks the grief has affected Mistress Komwono’s memory. Mistress Komwono pushes back, saying she would certainly remember the woman who had [her] banished: the King Sister, Jeleza. LMD and Mistress Komwono go back and forth until Mistress Komwono relents, saying her time in Kongor caused her to forget things. LMD departs, and Mistress Komwono beckons Sogolon out from hiding behind a door, saying “Oh Jeleza. We were women together.”
Keme and Sogolon are shopping in a market when a servant runs to meet them, out of breath and announcing that the Aesi has arrived at their compound. They return to the compound, and Sogolon thinks that there is a new wind about, harsh and cold and smelling like a dead fire. She hears the flap of huge wings, but no one else seems to hear it. Inside the compound, Sogolon finds Mistress Komwono in a room with a man with red hair rolled into bumps all over his head, and wearing a black robe with no sleeves. Sitting, yet taller than most people standing, his neck and arms black like the dark of green moss. Sensing her approach, the Aesi turns and asks Sogolon to wait outside. A guard finally calls her back into the room, and the Aesi reenters, his cape flapping even though Sogolon don’t feel no wind. She wonder if the bright red hair making his skin darker, or his charcoal skin making his hair brighter.
The Aesi asks Sogolon if she knows why Mistress Komwono was banished, but she does not. He asks if she was in the house when Master Komwono died, and she says that she was but does not know how he died. The Aesi demands to know if Mistress Komwono is friends with any witches, and Sogolon says no, the mistress hates witches. The Aesi stares silently into Sogolon’s eyes and she looks back. She not trying to be defiant or strong, but she tired of men working their strength over her, even if it is just a stare. The Aesi keeps staring and suddenly frowns, before quickly smiling again. The Aesi tells Sogolon she should tell her mistress to watch her tongue at court, but he knows she doesn’t have that liberty. Without warning, the Aesi asks Sogolon, “What happen when the master find you?” Sogolon is shocked. The Aesi smile. “Wrong question. Wrong person.”
Mistress Komwono stays in bed the rest of the day and into the next morning. While Sogolon attends to her, Mistress Komwono comments, “I just don’t know what to say to her, not as a subject, but as a friend. As a woman.” Sogolon replies, “I don’t know what word you last say to the King Sister, ma’am, but—” Mistress Komwono interrupts, “King Sister. Silly girl, I am talking of the king’s daughter. Kwash Kagar don’t have no sister. Sogolon blink away the shock. “Kwash Kagar don’t have no sister, girl.”

Boone
It had been a very busy seventy two hours. Boone had underestimated just how industrious and efficient human led organizations could be. These Undaunted were prompt and effective in seemingly every task they took on.
He now had a home. A proper family home. Complete with some very sturdy walls, an armored door and some concealed defenses that would make anyone short of a warrior in power armor think twice before trying to enter uninvited.
Rooms for himself and nine of his spouses, plus a large nursery with rooms split off from that would potentially see to the housing of his younger daughters till their maturity if they didn't choose to enter the nearby barracks where their other mothers and older sisters were residing earlier. A large common room, and a 'dining room' that could actually seat his entire family and a kitchen that could feed the same. It was a downright luxurious amount of space even planet side, and his new Khan had apologized that he couldn't work out getting more of his wives attached quarters to the family home.
Outrageous. Madness.
It all made Boone feel very... humble.
To be welcomed so freely, to be provided for generously. It almost made him want to weep. To be warm and safe again after long, cold, miserable days that seemed to never end... he stifles a sniffle. He was very emotional these days. More so than normal. A Cannidor showing his or her innermost emotions and thoughts to the world was simply not done for social reasons, but Boone felt like he had his heart affixed to his sleeve. His old stoic self would return, he was sure, but now he just felt... peace, and even as that made him want to weep for what his family had lost, the joy of safety and survival was not to be discounted.
Light of the guides he'd even been put in touch with a counselor, a psychiatrist and the ship's chaplain, a lovely Drin woman who'd wanted to check on his family's spiritual well being, and organize a memorial for his murdered wives and daughters to place in the ship's memorial hall.
It was too much. Simply too much.
Through it all though, Jerry Bridger had made himself available to Boone and his family. Hell he'd played with his children and instructed his daughter Mellek in swordsmanship at one point, leading his daughter to declare herself as Jerry's apprentice, which he had accepted. Karina, his Phosa daughter, snuggled up to him like she'd known the man her entire life. Khan Bridger moved with a poise and confidence that seemed to be infectious. Boone's wives were holding their heads up higher again, and so was Boone if he admitted it.
Perhaps that's what it really meant to be a leader. To be confident in yourself and in your people. To believe in them so much that they couldn't help but believe in themselves. If that was the case then his new Khan was an exceptional role model in that regard, and he hoped his daughters who aspired to the warrior's path would learn everything they could from the khan.
His wives had been given a variety of options for employment as had Boone, with his fighting spouses and one daughter electing to continue the trade of arms. They'd put on the Bridger family colors and serve with Bridger Jaruna's unit of Cannidor warriors. Jerry had even said they'd look into replacing his wives' power armor, and swore that his daughter Enrika would have her chance to earn power armor of her own one day.
Sure they were benefitting largely from structures that were already in place, but again, to be offered so much, to be trusted and welcomed into the fold so readily. Once again, Boone felt very, very humble for all that he'd received, and after finding out they were heading to Coburnia's Rest, he believed he finally had a way to start doing his part at making good on Khan Bridger's investment in his family. He was, for all his own talents, a house husband much of the time. He enjoyed rearing and educating children... but he had something rather rare among the men of the galaxy that might just be of more immediate value than Boone's teaching certificate.
Boone had a brother. A brother who lived on Coburnia's Rest.
A brother who had the connections Jerry was almost certainly looking for.
So Boone waits patiently in the outer office, sipping on a very large mug of a strong herbal tea that was mild for human cuisine, but probably a kick in the teeth to the weaker palates of the galaxy.
That had been a more mundane interesting thing to confirm. He'd heard humans knew how to eat properly, and he was damned sure that was true now!
Another sip of tea, and a few people Boone didn't recognize are striding out of the Khan's office, talking quietly among themselves. From the scent at least a few of them were women of the Bridger household... but some were on the younger side. Too old to be daughters, but almost certainly not wives from how they carried themselves and showed deference to women of the household who most certainly were wives of the Khan.
Adopted daughters perhaps? Boone suppresses a small chuckle. Perhaps Khan Bridger and his family had a habit of taking in strays, and Boone's branch of the Bonraks were simply the latest strays to find a home with the Bridgers.
"Ahem."
Boone looks up as the young lady who served as the Khan's secretary clears her throat.
"Uh... Mister Bonrak? The Admiral will see you now."
"Thank you, miss."
Boone rumbles as he rises and enters Jerry's office, exploring it visually to see if he can glean some more insight into his new Khan's character... and he's... intrigued by all there is to see, from the banners behind his desk, the rack of weapons, trinkets, trophies and mementos, the Khan's battle history was long indeed... but what stood out to Boone was the photos on the wall to the immediate left of the Khan's desk, out of view, he suspected of the lens of the holo comm unit built into the desk.
Just a glance made it clear to Boone at least, that of all the things in this office that Jerry Bridger might prize, his family was what mattered most, and in that, he and Boone were very much of the same mind.
Perhaps that unspoken kinship and understanding between them was what made Boone trust Jerry so implicitly. They shared values on a very deep level, and Jerry clearly fought to live his values in every waking moment of his day.
The Khan rises from his desk and gestures Boone to a seat that had clearly just been enlarged to fit his frame properly.
"Boone, welcome, have a chair... you didn't give Yeoman Chalis much of an explanation so I'm afraid I don't know what we're meeting about today, but I have an open door policy for my people."
Boone arches an eyebrow. "All of your people?"
Jerry nods. "Every last man, woman and child on this ship, or on our escort corvette, the Audacious, can come to me personally and I'll damn well work them into my schedule. Had a meeting with a five year old girl and her Mama the other day. Kid just wanted to give me a present."
Jerry points to the wall of photos towards the bottom, and sure enough, there was a child's drawing of presumably the little girl's family and what Boone figures is a depiction of the Crimson Tear itself with the word 'home' scrawled on it.
"To be so accessible to one's people is something I think Cannidor Khans could learn from you. Despite us being a very direct people, our long lived nature means that the mighty can frequently become isolated in the course of centuries of rule if they don't pay close attention to the realities of life outside their fortress. Many more of them don't seek to 'dirty' themselves with non-martial affairs."
"More fools they, one does not rule via a sword arm alone."
"Quite, my khan. That is in fact what I hope to assist your Undaunted with today. I believe you seek to reach out to the council of Patriarchs. No doubt they are aware of your visit, if your diplomats are worth their pay, but direct contact can be... difficult."
"So I've heard. Were you a member of the council yourself, Boone?"
Boone shakes his head. "No my Khan. Save that every male is a tertiary member of the council and can be called to conclave. In that sense, the council is less a governing body and fundamental part of the Cannidor court system and more a social club for men across Cannidor space. With special attention being paid to boys born without fathers of their own, to ensure they receive appropriate instruction in the ways of the Cannidor. Membership for non-Cannidor men is rare, but not unheard of. Usually only other apex species have the appropriate temperament."
"Right, that lines up with what I've heard more or less, save the social aspect and the focus on providing instruction to boys. That's new."
"Because you have been hearing about the council from women. I also ask you to keep these details... quiet. If not secret. Much of the council's activities are kept behind a veil of mysticism... this is not to say they neglect their religious and political functions, not in the slightest, but it does provide cover for other activities that allow us certain benefits. Fellowship being chief among them. I have lived outside of Cannidor space... and it is a very isolated life for a man. Even a Cannidor. We do not have that problem in our own space, but allow me to cut to the chase."
Boone takes a slow breath.
"I am just a teacher. Just a father."
"There's nothing 'just' about either of those things, Boone." Jerry interrupts, as serious as the rasp of a blade on leather.
"As you say my Khan. I did not mean to diminish those things, merely compare myself to my blood brother, Karnak. He always aspired to greater things... and heard the call of the old gods. He is a shaman, and a member of the council, and he lives on Coburnia's Rest."
Jerry leans in, ensuring Boone knows he has his complete attention in his posture. Even if he had to work a bit to make eye contact with the much taller man, something Boone found amusing, though he would never say that to his Khan's face.
"I don't suppose you're offering to put in a good word for us?"
"One better. We had to flee Irgalas' domain almost immediately. I need to call my brother and inform him of my survival, and my impending visit. I will introduce you to him initially, and see if an audience with the council on Coburnia's Rest can be arranged. It is not the Grand Council, but as the head world of a khanate, the council of patriarchs here has influence thought-out the worlds of the Hammerhands, and all the men of their allied and subordinate clans."
"...And they in turn send representatives to the Grand Council of Patriarchs on Canis Prime? Just like the Grand Council of Matriarchs?"
"Precisely."
The Khan grins, displaying what Boone had been told are called the canine teeth.
"Perfect. Well. Let's give your brother a call, if you need to have a longer chat with him, I can always step out, then we can see to business."
"A proper reunion will have to wait till we're in person any way. Karnak's never liked holo or electronic communication in general. Doesn't consider it trustworthy, but I shall log into your holo comm terminal, and we shall see if my brother will take a call from a ghost."
Boone fiddles with the small controls for a moment before successfully inputting his own comm code and connecting to his brother's device. It rings once and Karnak picks up immediately.
"If this is an attempt to ransom my brother or some sort of prank with a dead man's communicator I swear to your gods that you will- Makua!"
Rage to relief in the blink of an eye... it was good to be missed by those you loved.
"Well met brother."
Karnak's emotional state yo-yo's again, and he shouts into the holo comm;
"Where in the seven hells of Kalinara have you been, you son of a bitch?"
"Don't call our Mother that, she's still more than capable of tanning both our hides."
The two brothers break into chuckles as some of the tension bleeds out.
"As to where I've been... We... were taken as slaves by pirates. Irgalas ignored it if not outright allowed it. I have left her camp, and joined my family to clan Bridger, the head clan of the group that rescued us."
Karnak nods slowly, taking that on board. "...Harika and the others?"
Boone feels a sharp pang in his chest. Harika had been his first wife, a childhood friend that he had loved dearly.
"Harika, Mekarn and a few of the others dine with our ancestors. It's been a few years now... and thankfully they have at last been avenged. It does not give my heart peace, but at the very least there is some sort of justice for them. One of my khan's warriors cut the vile bitch who murdered Harika's head off right in front of me."
Karnak nods slowly. "This is good. I hope you had a chance to rend the corpse to paste and deny them a decent burial."
Jerry takes that as his cue to step in, literally as he moves into frame of the camera. "Boone and his family weren't in any condition to do that at the time, but the corpses of the pirates were tossed in a ravine near the settlement and eradicated via an orbital strike. There's nothing left of them to even fantasize about burying."
"...This too is good. Boone though? Not Makua?"
The question is clearly directed at Boone, and he answers;
"It is the name I'm going by now. You know why."
Karnak nods slowly. Of course he knew exactly why a Cannidor might take a new name, and being dishonored significantly was more than a good enough reason.
"...Tragically I do, Boone, my dear brother." Karnak looks down at Jerry. "I assume you are Khan Bridger then?"
"That's me."
"A human. How interesting."
Jerry arches a brow.
"How'd you guess?"
"If there's a Tret man alive who can stand not just with Cannidor but as a Khan to Cannidor, I want to meet him. Maybe see about arranging a marriage for one of my daughters."
Karnak chuckles, a deep and abiding rage is still in the man's eyes, but Boone can tell his brother is calming down.
"You've rendered my kin and I a great service, Khan Bridger."
"Taking care of one's people is a Khan's duty."
"They weren't your people when you performed it."
Jerry shrugs. "Maybe I'm not picky about who I help. Besides, I have a personal bone to pick with slavers, and the Undaunted as a whole are happy to put every slaver we run into against a wall."
"Such luxury to get put against a wall instead of being shot dead without ceremony like the rabid animals they are." Karnak snarls, his emotions getting the better of him for a moment before he takes a slow breath. "My apologies... my emotions are... compromised. I have always hated slavers, and now, knowing my own brother suffered at their hands I am... very upset."
A mild understatement, Boone thought to himself.
"I don't blame you in the slightest, if I had a brother and he ended up in a similar situation while I actually thought he was dead, I'd be all over the place emotionally too."
Karnak nods slowly and takes another slow breath, purging himself of wild and untamed emotions the way he and Boone had been taught as boys.
"I take it this isn't just a social call though? One doesn't normally reunite with kin in the presence of their new Khan."
"Boone tells me that you're a member of the council of patriarchs on Coburnia's Rest. That's our next stop as it happens. So I want to invite you and your family up to the ship so you can see Boone and his family for a proper reunion..."
"...And you'd like to see about getting an invitation to meet with the council. Of course." Karnak nods slowly. "I can do this for you. Gladly. Happily. Once word of this deed got around I have no doubt you'd have been invited anyway. I'll see about making the arrangements for you and some of the senior men on your staff. I imagine there's a great many men who'd like to speak to you. Boys too. I don't need to tell you that your Undaunted have been causing quite a stir among the Cannidor, and not just winding up the women about another potential source for worthy warrior husbands."
"I imagine a strongly male positive environment where men can excel in any way that they so choose without bias and with lots of male companionship would be even more appealing to Cannidor than it is to many other men in the galaxy."
"To say the very, very least. Should I be blessed enough to have a son I would encourage him to take a tour when he hit maturity myself. Hell, if I didn't have responsibilities of my own and a family to look after I'd likely be packing my bags for Centris. No need to talk through this damned holo though. Brother. Khan. I imagine I will see you very soon."
"You can count on it my brother."
Karnak smiles at Boone through the link. "I am. Karnak out."
Boone chuckles. "Karnak hasn't changed at all. Well, there you have it my Khan."
Jerry nods. "Well that promises to make our stay on Coburnia's Rest all sorts of interesting. Thank you Boone. That's a big help... Also, Just so you know. You don't have to call me khan. You're a civilian, so you don't even have to call me admiral. I'm fine just being Jerry."
"...Perhaps. In private."
First Last

It has some allusion to previous events but its pretty much a stand alone. Is still a first draft so there will be a good bit of issues regarding tense/spelling/grammar. Thanks for anyone who reads it!

On a small island tucked away from the rest of the world there is an island nation known as Gallania. Whilst small this island holds immense power, both economically and militaristically. It, however, has been caught within a war for the past thirty days. A vicious civil war which has levelled towns and farms, churches and cities. Blood has been spilled from that of the youngest childs to the oldest elder, bleaching the country in a hue that history will not forget for as long as it exists. This has been a war of two sides. The royal family led by his royal majesty Rodger the third of the Wintercrest bloodline, seventy-eighth king of the Gallanic kingdom. On the other side was a woman no older than twenty. You may wonder how a girl too young to even be wed has brought a nation to its knees, it truly was a tale. See her now as she rides on horseback, getting ready to establish her rebellion in the annals of history.
***
Elizabeth’s hair was neatly tied into princess braids as she marched her army out of Deniville. The thirty days of this conflict had led to this moment. She had the support of seventeen of the eighteen noble families, the greatest wizards the island has ever known, the economic drivers of the kingdom itself. To stand against her was to stand against a movement of absolute certainty, not one house had been able to successfully defy her, yet the daft king himself Rodger thought himself capable. It had been hard in the early days, a strategy required to woo the noble houses. For some she presented herself as a maiden, her language flowery and poetic, others she decimated in combat, regardless, one by one they fell in line. By the time the fifth house had fallen under her command others were offering themselves up to save the brutality. When some banded together to stop her she decimated their troops in combat, better yet in other occasions their troops simply refused orders and joined her. She had begun her conquest at the northernmost tip of the island and marched ever southwest along its crescent shape, weaving into towns to collect goods as the need arose. It all led to the moment she marched past her hometown.
She thought back to the days in which her father still lived and breathed. What would he have thought of the woman she had become, the knowledge of those thoughts had been robbed from her. Her soldiers marched through town, across the bridge, through the Maesters estate, her estate. She could see statues of her father Erikson in the corners of her eyes as she passed by, she ignored them. The capital was a mere few hour horse ride from their estate, it provided an economic boost her father had always said. Funny how little economics did to stop a slave girl driving a knife through one's throat. Venom filled her eyes as she tightened her grip on her horse's reins, she kicked his underbelly urging the stallion forward. As it picked up in speed the banner that Elizabeth was holding flapped in the wind, her troops invigorated and redoubled their efforts, they would be at the Capital far faster than mere hours.
The rolling plains stretched out, beautiful had it not been for the fires raging. She had taken too long to unify the nation under her banner, banditry had begun to spread, troops who fled command were looted from the commoners. Her wrath would fall down upon those who capitalised on these moments of the nation's weakness a hundredfold. She, however, could spare no soldiers to assist the townspeople, not yet at the very least. The city of Felt approached in the distance, its well crafted stone brick walls arising over the earth's curvature. The sounds of weeping could be heard before they were in ear shot. The sight of the cities collective fear wafted above them, a haze that could be cut with a knife were it big enough. In a moment she judged that they were within trebuchet range. The sun hung low in the sky, the world was painted red for the final bloody day of the revolt.
Slowly Elizabeth's troops began to approach her. She dismounted her horse, walking in front of her army with nothing but thin steel plates serving as armour and her banner staff. She waited for what could have been either ten minutes or ten hours, her entire army of thirty thousand coming to a halt.
“We come here today for unity. For peace. We do not bring war, they bring it through their resistance. To the Gallanic kingdom, and the empire we shall birth on this day.” Silence. Utter silence. A clap, then two. The crowd erupted, cheers, shouts. Her words had carried far, almost like a beacon of her ideals her message was carried to even those who could not hear it. That included her enemies hundreds of metres away. She waited, they would send a messenger. When one came she was waiting. He was young, no older than fifteen, most likely closer to thirteen. His hair was a dirty orange, odd for these parts of the world. His teeth were crooked, an awkward but genuine smile on his face. He wore the shirt of a commoner as he walked towards Elizabeth, a smile on his face. They shook hands. He went to stab her neck. He collapsed to the ground before the blade was in an arm's distance of her. She stomped on his neck, a wet crunch as he died.
“Long live the Gallanic empire!” She shouted, only just loud enough for a few to hear, yet everyone knew what she had said. The response was deafening. “Long live Elizabeth. Long live Elizabeth.”
The battle was underway, she was entirely aware as the trebuchets were loaded and then launched. They flew through the air, bundles of rocks in a white tarp aiming for the walls of Felt. She glared at the bundles, a chill biting up both her arms as all of the bundles ignited into flames. They smashed into the walls, carrying through them and landing in the city behind. The fire worked fast, lighting and spreading. The walls began to crumble, the holes deteriorating the support which they had. Elizabeth brought her banner staff down. Without speaking, the infantry began its march. The next round of trebuchet’s launched. She once again utilised her magic, she stared at the bundles as they fell towards the wall. She felt the air in her lungs all but disappear as the bundles accelerated to speeds which eclipsed those of arrows. They shot through the wall like a warm knife through butter, screams of the soldiers and civilians alike roared outwards. She began her march forward and the calvary knew it was their time to rush forward. The king had prepared an army to meet her, it of course would not prove useful against her. Like a bubble around her men who served king Richard began to collapse. Any who came too close would fall unconscious. She felt extreme pain wrack her body but ignored it entirely. Her mind fought against itself as she felt herself barraged by thousands of strikes which never occurred. Had they occurred she would be left as nothing but a bloody pulp, long since unconscious from the brutalisation of the abuse she underwent. However they didn’t occur. She couldn’t hold it up for long, about one hundred men fell due to her use of that magic, that was all she had to do. A ring had formed around her, no one wanted to risk coming too close. Her fellow wizards, those who would of course be far weaker then herself sat within this ring, casting spells of devastation which wrought death of untold magnitude on a group of people who voluntarily chose not to fight back. Elizabeth continued her slow, methodical march towards the gate. The third round of the trebuchet was just for show, the walls had already been reduced to rubble. She arrived at the gate, unleashing a gale of wind sending the rubble flying out of her path. Her lungs screamed with their emptiness, yet there was nothing that they could do. The sun had set, yet the world was still red with flame. She continued to walk forward, frowning as she looked down to see the corpse of a woman. The heels of her shoes stabbing through the eye of the woman, coming up covered in gore yet she seemed not to care. Few survived in the square near the entrance, yet more than enough for the cries of civilians to reach her ears. She reassured herself that soon their suffering would be over.
***
By the time she had reached the palace Rodgers' army had already admitted defeat. Elizabeth's troops swarmed the square assisting all of the civilians they could. She had no need to provide orders to them at this point, everyone knew that her will was absolute. Rodger, his wife and two daughters were guarded by a wizard and two expert swordsmen. The wizard moved to protect them only to find a stone arrow piercing him through his heart. It was an accident that the force of the arrow also tore through the shoulder of the queen, but it no longer mattered. The children cried out in terror as the two swordsmen descended upon her. She turned to look at one of them, their sword raised to decapitate her. They collapsed. Pain throbbed through her body but she carried on. The other moved to stab her through the gut, but when he met her eyes he froze. Elizabeth walked to his side, tenderly touched his face, he fell to his knee’s his blade clattering out of his hand and she moved on. The ground itself began to meld around her, the royal children pushed aside as she approached Rodger, a silver dagger in hand. His screams echoed the castle as his blood drenched the floor's white fur carpet. She took her seat upon the throne, staring at her army as it finished occupying the city of Felt. She felt the weight of the queen's dying body on her foot and kicked it aside. She groaned painfully but that was all she could muster as she landed on her husband's dead body. A smile flickered over her face as the soldier who had fallen to his knees came to bow to her. The children wept. This was a moment that would forever stain history books. This moment marks the end of the thirty one day war.

We've talked about the carriage scene in depth, and yet, I keep having this nagging feeling that Penelope's interpretation of Colin's confession may not be coming across to her in the same way Colin intends it, or as the audience reads it on the surface impression. (And let's be honest -- we're all so excited that they're finally getting together that everyone gets a little lost in the excitement.)
Colin thinks he's running there to see if Debling proposed and if he has a shot. Penelope, meanwhile, is even more miserable and angry than she was before the first kiss.
Let's inventory Penelope's state of mind:

• Her overarching goal is to escape her family home so she doesn't end up as her mother's slave with one of her sisters as Lady Featherington. (This is what causes her to get the makeover and try to get a husband, not a pursuit of Colin.) Penelope decided she wasn't going to accept this fate and needs to escape no matter what it takes. Conversation with Genevieve during her makeover: "But what has brought about this sudden desire for change?" Pen: "I cannot live at home any longer. It’s been hard enough living under my mother’s rules. But my sisters… To live at the whim of either the most cruel or the most simple person I know…I must take a husband before that happens."
• Colin is the last person she wants to see because she thought he had her best interests at heart and knew she wanted to escape her mother, and then at the last minute, he ruins it, which destroys the trust he'd regained.
• Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised that in that angry and hopeless state in the carriage, she's decided she's going to take her LW money and just peace out. She's called out her mother for the first time and also has no marriage prospects.
• Even though Debling isn't perfect -- he doesn't love her, wouldn't ever to be able to love her, and would leave -- this is better than being stuck with her mother. She likely does not believe she is worthy of love, so a loveless marriage to Debling -- just like her parents had -- seems like the most reasonable possible option. She would have her own place to escape to, and being alone in Debling's house would be better than being in her family's house.
• Cracks in Penelope's Debling armor start to show when her mother says "Can you imagine the kind of influence that will give you? The kind of influence it will give… all of us?" Penelope realizes, oh shit, I might get out of here, and then she would still be all up in my life, and use his title for her own gain.
• Penelope is deeply insecure with low-self worth (thanks, Portia). Colin would never pursue her. This is a foregone conclusion to her.
• Penelope tells Colin explicitly in the market scene that she wants to marry so that she can escape her family and have her freedom.
• Colin publicly declared that he would never court her. He apologizes, but says he's different now, but also doesn't try to court her. His reaction to this to instead help her find someone else.
• Penelope does not feel like society respects her or sees her as a valid marriage prospect. She says in S3E1 that "I am the laughingstock of the ton, even when I change my entire wardrobe."
• Penelope does not have examples of what love looks like from her parents or her family. Her father was an alcoholic, a gambler, and largely absent. Her mother is emotionally abusive. Her sisters pile on their mother's abuse. She only knows what romantic love looks like from books.

Ok, let's get into it.

COLIN: I need to know. Did he propose?
PENELOPE: It is odd. When I asked for your help in finding a husband, I did not realize that also meant you might try to deny me one as well.
COLIN: It is my business because I care about you. You cannot marry that man. He will leave you, and he is too particular. And he is… He is just not right for you, Pen.
PENELOPE: He did not propose. In fact, he rejected me because of you. The scene you caused led him to believe you have feelings for me. An idea so preposterous, I do not know what to do besides laugh. Now, will you please let us ride home in silence and leave me alone. COLIN: I cannot.
PENELOPE: Please!
COLIN: I cannot.

Let's pause here for a moment. Pen's goal is to get a husband -- any husband, really -- so she can escape the control of her mother and sisters and be free. She has told Colin about this multiple times -- at Anthony's wedding and at the market scene. She's given up on love and just wants out. To her, Colin saying he cares about her sounds to her "like a friend" and "like a friend" does not give him any right to control her future. So this rings completely hollow to her, rather than coming across in the protective, loving way that Colin intends it. She is exasperated with him.

COLIN: Because… What if I did have feelings for you?
PENELOPE: What?

And now our poor Pen's brain short-circuits. He's made it clear she's a friend and that he would never court her (even if he apologized, his "apology" was helping her find someone else, which doesn't exactly come across as flirtatious). He was awkward under the willow rather than telling her his feelings. He froze in the ballroom rather than asking her to dance. There's no reason for her to think he has feelings, or feelings he would want to make public. Most of the time he talks to her, it's out of public view -- at night or in secret. He says he isn't ashamed of her, but I don't think she fully believes him. (Remember: this woman has been made to feel less-than by her family her entire life, him saying he'd never court her was confirmation of what she held to be a fundamental truth about herself.)
So then he starts his confession. Which many of us, myself included, interpret as quite romantic. But the more I think about it, the more I'm not so sure. I find myself going back to this given how bewildered Pen looks after the proposal and in the Bridgerton drawing room. So let's dissect this a bit.

COLIN: I have spent so long trying to feel less, trying to be the kind of man society expects me to be.

Pen's POV on this: Ok, so this year he's been trying to be what society expects, and is succeeding. Lots of admirers. Most sought-after bachelor. Hot body, saves the day with his heroism, etc etc. Not sure what this has to do with feelings for me but idk good for you Colin? I've already told you how much this drives me insane that you can just glide right in here and it's so easy for you. Fucking pretty Bridgertons, honestly.

COLIN: And for a moment, I thought I had succeeded.

Pen's POV: You did, didn't you? Still not sure how this relates to me and you having feelings for me, but sure, go on.
Remember, we the audience know he has been struggling, but she does not.

COLIN: But these past few weeks have been full of confounding feelings. Feelings like a total inability to stop thinking about you.

Pen's POV: So you thought you were succeeding at being who society wanted... and then you developed feelings for me. Those two things are opposites of one another? Huh? Thinking about me is socially deviant, because you're ashamed of me (even if you claim not to be) and you would never court me? So you have feelings for me that are somehow tied to you defying what society wants? Ooooookay.

COLIN: ...About that kiss. Feelings like dreaming of you when I’m asleep. And in fact preferring sleep because that is where I might find you.

Pen's POV: Oh... so you think about kissing me. That's what you mean by "feelings." You’re talking about the “feelings” I read about you having for women in France. And that's why these feelings are somehow in defiance of what society wants. They did all make fun of me when it became known I was trying to seek a husband so, got it. So you're attracted to me, but you feel guilty about it, and know it's against the social norm.

COLIN: A feeling that is like torture. But one which I cannot, will not, do not want to give up.
PENELOPE: Please. Do not say things you do not mean.

Pen's POV: Where exactly is he going with this? He has feelings for me but knows that wouldn't be accepted by society? And he isn't going to give up those feelings? What options does that leave us with? Colin, I gave up on my feelings for you a long time ago, and I am done with being secret friends.

COLIN: But I do mean it. It is everything I have wanted to say to you… for weeks.
PENELOPE: But… Colin, we are friends.

This point to me, in very "Colin and Pen will answer a question with an answer to a question they didn't answer earlier, in a conversation that may have been with someone else," almost seems to me like Pen answering Debling's question beforehand, which she didn't answer. It's more like she's reciting a definition rather than replying to what he's saying.

LORD DEBLING: I am speaking of Mr. Bridgerton…and the feelings between the two of you.
PENELOPE: I can assure you, Colin Bridgerton would never ever have feelings for me. It is laughable to think as much. We are friends, nothing more.
LORD DEBLING: Would you like it to be more?
PENELOPE: I do not…That is not even…That is not a possibility.
LORD DEBLING: I did not ask if it was a possibility. I asked if you’d like it to be.
PENELOPE:

And Penelope, at this point, is so emotionally exhausted that she has nothing left. In the last 20 minutes, she's gone from thinking she would be proposed to by a lord who would leave her alone and being fine with that, to Colin bursting in for no reason saying it was a mistake and ruining it, to lord not proposing because of her unrequited love of Colin, to now Colin saying he has feelings for her but knows they wouldn't be accepted by society.

COLIN: Yes, but we…Forgive me. Um…I do not know what I was thinking.

Pen sees his face, and how much it falls. Perhaps he was going to say "But we kissed"? Or "but we could be more"? She has no idea. And she has no reserves left. She's felt betrayed and angry and cried and now is getting this kind of insulting compliment that Colin wants to kiss her again even though it's against "what society wants him to be" or whatever the fuck he means by that. (Remember, we are in her POV right now.)
And she has no reserves left. Her armor is down, her vulnerability is fully on display. So she answers the question that Debling asked her earlier, with the raw honesty of someone who has cried out every last drop of their emotional filter:

PENELOPE: But I’d very much like to be more than friends. So much more.

And this comes across as a statement from her. It's just a raw, honest statement. She wants to be more than friends. She doesn't know what that is in a world where Colin dreams about kissing her yet doesn't want to be with her. But she has nothing left, and she leans into the feeling.
For anyone who has ever been friends-with-benefits-zoned by someone you liked, you know exactly what this feeling is. You can't have them all the way, but what you can have is good enough, and maybe their feelings will change some day, maybe. But even a fraction of them, of them only being sexually attracted, is good enough.
(To be clear: I think Pen is fully consenting during the intimacy. She has so many different emotions running through her body at this point and all she knows is that Colin is her comfort person and he's here and he wants her physically at least and she just enters that moment and escapes.)

> [insert sexy fun times here]

PENELOPE: Oh! Colin! We are at your house.
COLIN: What? Oh God. Could the carriage driver not keep on driving?

At this point, Colin looks around somewhat wildly. In my opinion, his POV is that he is in a dream with Pen and is checking to make sure he's actually in a carriage and not sleeping.
But Pen interprets that quite differently:

PENELOPE: Do you think anyone saw us? I was not paying much attention to anything.

Pen says this still thinking they need to hide being together. They kissed at midnight in a garden. Their meetings together were all in secret or out of view, and even somewhat on the down low if they were at a ball. She still thinks he's embarrassed of her.
And then he starts fixing her dress. Is he trying to cover up the evidence?

PENELOPE: What are you doing?

He fixes himself, puts on a serious face, and then hops out of the carriage... without saying anything. Is he regretting what just happened? Is he just going to leave? Is he treating her like one of his courtesans—which she knows he visits from reading his journal? What are they now? What about what they just did? Is this going to be like when they kissed, and it was incredibly awkward after that? Does he want to do this again? Is she just going to be like one of his French girls that he sleeps with and then continues on with his life? Is she just going to be a spinster and his mistress? WTF is going on!

PENELOPE: Colin?

He looks her up and down like she's a snack.

COLIN: Are you coming with me?

She now knows what him looking her up and down means. And she thinks he's asking her up to continue what they've been doing... in secret. Just like the kiss, just like the other times they've seen each other this season.

PENELOPE: What? Your… Your family will see me.

Colin, WTF are you thinking, seriously.

COLIN: For God’s sake, Penelope Featherington. Are you going to marry me or not?

Pen: Holy fuck what?
And thus we get her beautifully bewildered face.
The more I think about it, the more confusing of a "confession of love" it is. Imagine if you had a crush on someone forever, and they started their profession of feelings with a meandering discussion of how they no longer cared about being what society expected them to be. That would leave you feeling like them having feelings for you was against social expectations and something they were ashamed of. It's confusing and a bit weird, quite frankly.
And the reason I bring this up is because of the Part 2 trailer, which I'll now hide behind spoiler tags.
That bewildered face seems to stay with her into the Bridgerton drawing room. She seems to be in a complete daze at that point and really not sure what to think of all of this. At that point, I'm not sure she really believes this is all happening. And given that she seems to get the engagement announcement out that night, this has me wondering whether that's her trying to make sure this really is real and making it so he can't back out. He's saying he isn't ashamed of her, so that could be her making him make it public rather than her being his “secret wife” or something to that effect.