The Pazyryk culture is known from well-preserved burials (some frozen). It was certainly Sakan (close relatives of Scythians, maybe also of the Khotanese), and there are chimeral beasts represented in many ways, some like Scythian beasts (grifins). Pearson, “the man in Pazyryk Barrow Two was tattooed with numerous real and fantastic beasts, including beaked and antlered horses with lions’ tails”. Some of this resembles Scythians golden art of griffins attacking horses https://www.reddit.com/mythology/comments/q2ssp8/scythian_golden_pectoral/ , which seems to represent legends of the Arimaspoí fighting gold-guarding griffins. The Arimaspoí were a one-eyed people in the north, according to ancient Scythians https://www.reddit.com/IndoEuropean/comments/142t347/scythian_greek_arimaspo%C3%AD_oneeyed/ .
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Though Pearson said that some tattoos were of mythical beasts, they might have been based on real animals made to look like ones from myths (as decoration or in ritual). An odd feature is that the horses buried there also were decorated, often in horned masks. Pearson :
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One of these horses, a venerable old gelding, was buried in Pazyryk Barrow One with a massive, antlered headdress. [Its] mane was covered, and its tail was wrapped to create a smooth, sleek appearance, and the wrapping terminates in a tuft of red horsehair, giving it a distinct resemblance to a lion’s tail.
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Other horses from Pazyryk wear equally ornate headdresses. A second horse from Barrow One wears a horned, winged lion. A horse from Barrow Two wears a ram’s head with a bird perched, wings outstretched, between its horns; a horse from Barrow Five is crowned with a wooden deer’s head with attached leather antlers. At the site of Berel, four horses (out of a total of thirteen found in Kurgan 11) were buried wearing massive wooden ibex horns. All had mane coverings and either tail wrappings or tightly braided tails. These horses, as well as the many others buried without headdresses both at Pazyryk and Berel, also wore various pieces of tack, including bridles, saddles, girths, martingales, and cruppers. These pieces were decorated with images of other animals or scenes of animal predation.
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These might have been used to mimic rituals of men wearing horns (and other masks, etc.) to imitate the gods. This is known from around the world, including IE, as shown by the use of ceremonial horned helmets in Norse rituals (compare maks of gods used in rites, or the Hand of Sabazius). Semenko sees this as a sign of IE origin :
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Indo-European cults of the horned ‘horse’ i.e. the horse transformed ritually into another horned animal (either a bull or a goat or a deer) using a special mask with horns were practiced by the Asian Indo-Europeans of Iran, India and Middle and Central Asia (Pamir, Kazakhstan and Russian and Mongolian Altai regions) in 4200–200 BCE and by the European Indo-Europeans of the Atlantic, Northern and Central Europe (the Celts and the (Northern) Germans) in 300 BCE – 650 AD. Around 4200 BCE the practice of the early Indo-Europeans of the Pamir region of yoking different non-equid horned animals such as bovines and goats into the first invented chariots became one of the sources of the horned ‘horse’ cult development. The second source of the development of Indo-European cult of the Horned ‘Horse’ was the Middle–Central –South Asian practice of riding horned animals other than Equidae before using the true horses as riding animals.
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Using mismatched animals to pull a chariot seems like a short-term solution. I feel it shows either ritual (imitating gods whose chariots were pulled by non-standard animals, birds, goats, etc.), though it might have been used when needed due to scarcity. All this shows IE usage, but Pearson takes the opposite path :
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The custom of horse sacrifice in Kurgan burials may have arrived in the Altai as a result of Indo-European expansion, but the particulars of the Pazyryk horse burials cannot be explained as purely Indo-European in inspiration.
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In order to understand the meaning of these horse costumes, we must first understand the meaning of their key attributes, that is, the salient characteristics of deer and mountain sheep/ibex. Esther Jacobson-Tepfer has explored the significance of these animals in Altaic religion from the Neolithic onwards, convincingly connecting them to the concept of a World Tree or World Mountain, both of which are reflexes of the World Axis belief common to most if not all Siberian and circumpolar religions. The antlers of the deer can be related to the branches of the World Tree: petroglyphs of deer dating from the Neolithic onwards represent some deer with strikingly tree-like antlers. The mountain sheep/ibex may be said to stand on the top of the World Mountain. Its horns, resembling wood, can probably be connected to the World Tree in the same way that the deer’s antlers are.
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Since IE people definitely had a World Tree, this doesn’t seem like proof of non-IE origin. Horned men and horses seen in IE art in Europe seems to show this goes back to PIE. The importance of horses is certainly known in many IE cultures. As to the cause, when men of importance wore elaborate head-covering, and horses were important, it only makes sense that similar decorations would come to be used for both. This is true even in cases where horned horses did not represent a figure from myth, but imitation of deer from myth also seems like it could be one cause.
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This also seems like art from the Indus Civilization, which includes “unicorns” of uncertain origin, 3-headed animals, etc., as well as horned men. The men have been compared to Indic Paśupati ‘Lord of the Beasts’ and one greatly resembles the sitting horned man on the Gundestrup Cauldron. Some animals are hard to identify (either not real or obscured by artistic flair), so look for yourselves to see if they match known IE horned horses, etc., described above :
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https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indus_script#/media/File:Longest_Indus_script_inscription_(colour).jpg.jpg)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indus_script#/media/File:Shiva_Pashupati.jpg
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indus_script#/media/File:Stamp_seal_and_modern_impression- _unicorn_and_incense_burner_(?)_MET_DP23101_(cropped).jpg
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indus_script#/media/File:Indus_script.jpg
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These images also relate to whether the Indus Script was used for an IE language. I have used values based on the Sanskrit names for the objects represented, with good results. I feel that the converging features being related to IE counterparts on several sides supports the reality of IE origin.
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Pearson, Kristen R. (2017) Chasing the Shaman's Steed: The Horse in Myth from Central Asia to Scandinavia
https://www.academia.edu/35913475
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Semenko, Aleksandr Andreyevich (2021) The horned (non-)horses of Indo-Europeans and the problem of Celts’ and Germans’ origin
https://www.academia.edu/45158983
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Whalen, Sean (2024) Partial Decipherment of the Indus Script: Compilation (Draft)
https://www.academia.edu/115789583
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https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pazyryk_culture

It had been a long time. A long while, indeed, since the hives were removed from Nostramo. In their place came the endless fields of corn, the unwavering sway of the stalks as they rose out of the land. Of course, any person who knew Nostramo knew that this world wasn't truly the Planet of Darkness; it simply shared a name by sheer coincidence. This world was bright, temperate, and fertile. No pollution clogged the rivers and skies, even as bulk machines designed for the sole purpose of moving unimaginable quantities of grain to and fro went about their business. Humanity had learned long ago that the sun was necessary for crops to flourish, so the expense to keep the world clean was made. Nostramo was a world of life. It had to be in order to survive.
Scarecrows, intended to thwart the predations of hungry birds, rose tall above even the crops. They, by themselves, were hardly effective. The birds were too wise to be frightened by inanimate sticks. What was effective, at least for this one tiny part of the world, was the plate the scarecrow had been adorned with. The armor was a faded sapphire, somewhere between the blues of an ocean and the blue of old Nostramo's skies. Yet, the plate was marred with the scars of time. The blue had been worn away by the passage of years with no protection from the elements, and cracks and crevices from battle were many and they were deep. The passage of centuries had only worsened them. Now, it hardly even resembled armor, despite its once-mastercrafted artifice. It was a shadow of its former self. Glory—if the ceramite plates ever truly knew glory—was long gone, now. Rivets that once held pieces of flayed skin and the bones of poor, unfortunate souls now rested happily empty.
There was also a house. It was a simple prefabricated hab unit, only sized up to accommodate a being far larger than any normal human. Time had worn it down, too, but the rockcrete remained strong even as the white paint that once gave it a dash of vibrancy had peeled away and left only a stone gray visage. The roof was little more than a slightly tilted set of squares, designed to remove rain while only necessitating the bare minimum of extra material. Some parts of the unit were splotched with yellow pollen, and an odd vine curled up the side, almost making the place appear rustic.
And a woman emerged. She was tall. Unnervingly so. Even with the enlarged door, she risked slamming her head into the doorframe if she did not exercise caution. Her black hair was tied into a simple braid, though it was long enough to reach the small of her back. Scars—deep ones—crowded the area around her mouth like unwanted guests. Her clothes were simple and unrefined; a plain gray tunic and an unimpressive skirt covered her from her neck to her ankles, leaving only her head and arms exposed. She wore boots underneath it all, but one could only cast small glimpses of them from between the hem of her skirt and the length of the grass she tread upon.
Kassandra Curze was a woman long forgotten. Once, she had been known as the Night Haunter. A long time ago, she had sought justice and enacted it in whichever way she saw fit. Once, she had been seen as a woman who no one could trust. She was a tool to be maintained, to be utilized and then discarded when the work was done. Not any longer. For all anyone knew, the Night Haunter was dead.
She had heard stories, of course, of the Galaxy beyond Nostramo. She knew of her sister Guilliman's return and the wars she fought, how the Avenging Daughter of the Imperium bloodied her hands to keep Mankind safe. Kassandra knew of this. She knew that men and women who called themselves her children died every day, trying to enact the will of a Primarch they believed long dead. Her will.
"Redeem us," she had said. "Protect Mankind."
She sighed as the memories rushed back into her. Yet, despite the pain of those recollections, she spared a half-smile. If she was looking back, it meant she was not looking forward. She had not had a vision in millennia. It was one of many blessings she believed she did not deserve. Yet, she took them, fearing the alternative. Better to bask in rewards unearned than to be soaked in the just punishments. Truthfully, she feared justice. She had no delusions against the reality that, if anyone deserved to be burnt alive or hanged from a rope, it was her.
Yet she still lived. She lived here, by sheer coincidence, on a planet called Nostramo that was not Nostramo. She tended to crops. She repaired bulk movers and operated servo-harvesters. She could predict what the weather in three weeks was going to look like just by smelling the air. Her crops contributed to the war efforts, and she made her contribution to the tithe. She had been doing that for thousands of years. Surely, she had done more for the Imperium than most women could do. Surely she had earned some small piece of redemption, just by staying still and not hurting anyone. Just by eating and drinking alone, without anybody to injure or torture with her presence.
As she made her way toward the field, she whispered to herself, "The Night Haunter is dead."
The stalks were tall enough that they would have surpassed even an armored space marine in height, but she stood a head taller than them. If she looked out while standing in the field, she could see the horizons in all directions, with only a few odd hab units breaking up the perfect solitude of the endless sea of grain. Birds who made their nests amidst the fields swooped around. There were cats who lived in the fields, Kassandra knew. They were put there to hunt the birds, who ate both the crops and the insects who lived on them. She had always wanted to touch one of them, but they refused to draw near, even at the promise of food.
She slipped through the fields with the grace of a butterfly and began to examine the crops. The ones in section 1-A were in good condition. 1-B was struggling with a stalkbeetle infestation. She would have to requistion some pesticide. 1-C was good. 1-D flourished. 1-E was beautiful. She kept going through the sections of her field, scanning for any possible variance, any discrepancy that she needed to be concerned about. The administratum believed that there was a team of ten workers living in her hab unit. They were wrong, but she could do the work of ten men and then still have time left in the day to do other things.
When she finished the final section assigned to her, she departed from the field. She went home. She sat in her empty bedroom (if an empty chamber could be called that) and meditated. She could always feel the pricks of the future gnawing at her mind, trying to force their way in, but something stopped them. Even as her subconscious tried to skim the threads of time, it refused to delve into the deeper waters. Even if she tried to see something, she could not. Her foresight had left her.
Meditation was not something that had come naturally for her. She was once a being who was so utterly lost in her own torment that the idea of any self-reflection physically pained her. When she first struggled with those memories, the attacks had come. Moments where she could not breathe, even though there was air and her superhuman physique should have meant she could have survived even in the vacuum of space. Moments where she felt so small and vulnerable, despite her giant frame and overwhelming strength. Her heart racing even faster than it did in battle because when she was fighting she was in control of herself. When she fought the beast in her mind, she was not in control.
But that hurdle, though it had taken centuries to overcome, was simply an obstacle, and there was no task one of the Emperor's Daughters could not complete. Not that she took any pride in being related to the Emperor, of course; she simply saw the reality.
She opened her eyes. As her mind returned to the sensations of the world, she whispered to herself, "The Night Haunter is dead."
She left her bedroom and went to the kitchen. This was the one luxury she afforded herself, to honor the one person who had ever taken the time to know her. They had loved to bake, so she learned as well. Anyone, given thousands of years with which to practice, would become skilled in any craft.
Soon, the smell of freshly-baked pies and bread wafted out of her open windows. There was no one to smell them, and no one to share them with. She ate alone. Loaves of bread, fruit pies, chocolate tarts, and jams and butters with which to garnish them were all devoured quickly. She could taste every last flavor, could perfect every single modicum of sweetness until it practically melted away in a cloud of bliss, but she never enjoyed this part. It reminded her of all the things she did not have, and then she disliked herself for wanting more mercies than she had already been granted.
Then, when she was done eating and the sun was set, she went to sleep on the floor. Then she woke up the next day.
And she did it all again. Over and over again, without fail, without the slightest instance of change. It was peaceful.
A knock came on her door while she was baking. They called her name, not the false name the governor's inspectors knew her by. It was a woman's voice, boisterous and grizzled. Instantly, she knew who the voice belonged to: Leona El'Jonson. There were other women who sounded like that, but none could match the timbre of the Lion. Kassandra knew it as though the sound were engraved into her very soul.
She pulled a knife from the cabinet. For a normal human, it would have been the size of a longsword.
She whispered to herself as she approached the door slowly, "The Night Haunter is dead."
The door opened, and she saw the Primarch of the First Legion. She was wearing her armor. She was unarmed, however, and she looked... older. Her once pristine blonde hair was flecked with gray. The shadows of wrinkles pulled at her features, like a normal woman in her late thirties. And the steel daggers her eyes once held weren't there. Her face was almost... soft.
"Curze," the Lion said. Her voice, at least, hadn't changed.
"El'Jonson," Kassandra responded.
The sisters looked at each other. Kassandra realized with a chill that the Lion looked awkward. There was no certainty in the woman's eyes. Not like there had been during the Heresy or the Scouring. Not like there had been during the Great Crusade.
Was this really Leona El'Jonson?
"You look different," the Lion commented. "Much calmer. Peaceful."
Kassandra just stared. Surely, the knife in her hand—she had it hidden behind the doorframe—had not escaped her sister's notice. The Lion knew it was there, right?
Then, as the Lion's eyes burrowed into her own, she understood that yes, she did know. What was she thinking? Leona El'Jonson was never a deceitful woman. She had never once told a lie, and her coming to this house unarmed meant she had no intention of causing a ruckus. At least, not yet.
It meant she was vulnerable. Kassandra could get rid of her now. She could plunge the knife into the 1st's throat and no one would ever know. She knew, without her even saying, why she was here. She wanted to bring her back. She wanted her to fight. She wanted her to be at the head of the Night Lords again, to fight against the enemies of the Imperium like she had ten millennia ago. One simple murder would end this before it even began. First it was the Lion, then it would be Guilliman. Then it would be Dorn, maybe, or Corax. Maybe even Aurelia would come down and beg her to turn coat.
No. No more.
Kassandra's brow furrowed in agitation. "I'm staying here. The Night Haunter is dead."
The Lion looked back at her with a thoughtful expression on her face. She pinched the bridge of her nose anxiously—a new habit; perhaps she picked it up from Guilliman—and asked, "May I come in?"
She wanted to say no. More than anything, she wanted to say no. But she smelled the peanut butter pie from the kitchen that she knew she would normally have eaten by herself and something cracked. Something poked at her eyes, then. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one that she hadn't experienced in millennia. She kept her face even, but her mouth betrayed her: "Yes," she answered.
She guided the Lion into the kitchen and stabbed the knife into the cutting board—a warning—then she pulled out a chair for her sister to sit in. The table was far larger than a woman living alone needed. Thirty-seven chairs, all evenly spaced, rested in a perfect circle around the table. Pies and loaves of bread adorned it like decorations, despite their smell. These details did not escape the Lion's notice as she sat down. "I did not take you for the sentimental type, Curze."
"I am not," Kassandra responded. She pulled another set of pies out of the oven—lemon—and moved them to the table.
The Lion spared one last gaze at the expansive table and the feast that had been laid out before her and chanced a sad smile. "No. No, you're not."
Kassandra handed her sister a plate, a knife, a spoon, and a fork, then sat down. She pulled a slice of apple pie onto her plate, then slapped a dollop of ice cream onto it. She then grabbed one of the seasoned loaves of bread and set it down next to her plate. "Eat," she said. "They're better fresh."
There was discomfort in the way the Lion picked items to add to her plate. She placed a cinnamon roll in front of her, took small bites of it until it was gone, then quietly grabbed another. The sisters, for a time, ate in silence.
Almost, Kassandra wished the Lion would just eat her sweets and leave. She hoped El'Jonson would get the picture: Kassandra Curze was a new woman, living a life that she wanted, not the one that had been forced onto her. But, of course, she had to ask. "Why are you here, El'Jonson?"
The response came quickly. The Lion seemed to ease up, the territory becoming more familiar than sitting quietly and eating sweets. "I came to fetch you."
Kassandra set her fork down with a distinct clink. She stood and pulled a jar of strawberry jam from her cabinet. "Would you like some?"
Anger began to spread across the Lion's face. "You mock me."
"What if I do? What are you going to do about it, El'Jonson? Are you going to send your Angels here to destroy my crops and raze my home to the ground? Such measures are not beneath you." Kassandra's tone was even and controlled. Her heart, however, began to race. Thoughts began to swarm her, too many to control. What if she were persuaded? What if the Lion forces her? What if she destroys her new Nostramo just to get her to leave? What if she already informed her Legion, and her children are on their way to take her back to the wars?
She turned back to the cabinet to put the jam away.
"The Imperium is dying, Curze. It is split asunder. I've yet to even see Guilliman, but she and I are the only ones left, aside from you."
"What?" Kassandra wheeled around to face her sister. She looked for some semblance of dishonesty in the Lion's face, but there was none. She told the truth. "Only us three remain?"
"All the others are dead or missing. Even Aurelia has disappeared, gone in pursuit of Little Light. There is no one left to fight."
"Even Sanguinia?"
"I'm told she has not left Baal since her Dove died during the Siege of Terra." The Lion looked weary for a moment. "I'm sorry, Curze. I wish our reunion could have been done under better circumstances, but-"
"Better circumstances?"
The Lion looked shocked, both by the sentiment that had come out of her own mouth and by the venom with which Kassandra had spewed her reply. Her body tensed, preparing for a fight.
"For ten thousand years, I have tended to this farm. I have not harmed a soul in all that time. I have done my duty as a citizen of the Imperium. I have done everything in my power to make sure that my sins are wiped away, and all you do to wipe away my grievances with you are some honeyed words of apology for bothering me? Odd for you, granted, but no less unwanted. Perhaps I should have turned coat with Aurelia when I had the chance. Then, at least, my wishes would be treated with some respect."
The Lion, taken aback, sighed. "Kassandra." She stood and moved around the table toward Kassandra, doing her best to make the motion seem gentle. She wanted to appear kind. "I made mistakes. Too many to count. I hurt my children, I hurt my loved one, and I hurt you. I see that now. Every day, I wish I had not."
Kassandra watched as tears slipped down Leona El'Jonson's face. She watched as the stone slab of a woman began to cry. Wetness made lines down the 1st Primarch's face, leaving stains that would take hours to leave her skin. Even as she cried, however, her face remained still.
The shock manifested in half-spoken words. "Leona, what are you-"
"I know I have no right to come down to your home and ask you to take up your sword again. I know you have found a measure of peace here. Believe me when I say I do not want to destroy that. To destroy this." She motioned to the sweets arrayed on the table. This was the closest thing the sisters had ever been to being a family. Suddenly, Kassandra knew that Leona understood. "This is what all of us have been fighting for all of this time. A chance to be together. We might not have said it, but that is what really caused all of this. Our chance to be a family has passed us by, but we can stop others from feeling that pain. The Imperium is made up of daughters and sons. Of mothers and fathers. Of brothers and sisters. I fight to protect them, Curze, and so do your children."
Finally, something to pick at. "You lie. The Night Lords would never-"
"The VIIIth has changed. They have taken your words to heart, Kassandra."
"What are you talking about?"
Leona reminded her of words that she had not heard for millennia. "Protect Mankind. That is what you told them, isn't it? All this time, they have followed the words of their Primarch."
"You... You're lying. That Legion of madmen would never listen to me. It's impossible. El'Jonson, you are lying to me!"
"I am not."
"You are. You've come to take me back to them. They want me to lead them, to be the lunatic that leads their merry band of insane scum. I refuse. I refuse to play that role again. The Night Haunter is dead! She is dead!"
"Kassandra Curze!"
The shout stopped Kassandra. She turned away from Leona and looked into the empty sink, seeing her reflection in the metal basin. "The Night Haunter is dead."
"I do not want the Night Haunter. I want you, Kassandra. But we must go soon. Beyond Nostramo, the Galaxy burns. It needs you."
As she stared into the basin, Kassandra had a vision. She watched as she gazed into the eyes of Leona, with the 1st plunging knife into her throat. The knife currently resting in her cutting board. She watched, with cloudy eyes, as she squirmed and fought only to be overpowered by her armored sister. The 1st came here to kill her. She is a traitor.
She reached for the knife.
For a brief moment, she felt something touch her hand. It was a feeling she had not felt in a long time. She smelled the sweets on the table. She listened to the swaying of the fields outside. She felt her own breath, moving in and out gently. She looked at her sister, stern as ever. She heard a voice. Stop, my love, it said. I am here. I will keep you safe.
She stopped herself from replying. She knew it was just a trick of the mind. It was a hallucination to be ignored. Her lover was dead.
Leona came over and grabbed her. At some point, Kassandra had fallen to the ground. She had her arms wrapped around her, squeezing her tightly. What was she doing? Was she trying to suffocate her? Was this an attempted murder?
Then the memories. The flashes of warmth, of love. The brief moments of respite amidst the sea of pain. She remembered her love, and how they used to hold her. How they used to hug her, to embrace her with their little arms and somehow make her feel like she wasn't the worst woman in the universe. She felt Leona holding her tightly, securely, like she was afraid to let go, and she felt that again.
And, for the first time in ten thousand years, Kassanadra Curze cried.
As she cried, she had another vision.
There was a house. It was a simple prefabricated hab unit, only sized up to accommodate beings far larger than any normal human, but also large enough to hold a lot of people. There was a fresh coat of white paint on the outside, and inside there were many rooms. There was a bedroom with a large bed fit for a Primarch and her lover. There was a nursery painted dark blue, like the midnight sky hanging over Nostramo. There was a kitchen, where Kassandra was hard at work making pie and bread and other baked goods. There was the sound of happy mingling coming from the dining room, where the table was already stacked full with food. And, filling all of the chairs, were her family. Smiling. Happy. Together.
And her belly was swollen with the light of new life. And as she carried the last pie into the dining room, she felt the warm gazes of her sisters, of their spouses, of her father, and of her love, and she smiled.
Then she was back in reality. She looked at Leona.
"This dream that I have," she said. "Is it worth fighting for?"
Leona placed her forehead against Kassandra's. "If even Kassandra Curze can have hope, then Humanity's dream is not yet dead." She pulled away, "But to reach that, we must fight."
Kassandra looked out her window. She saw her old armor hanging on the scarecrow, as beat up as it was. "Tell me," she began, "where is my Legion?"

Your “hairstory,” if you will :)
Hair is such a big deal when you’re a woman and apart of that church (men too, I know.) The church I grew up in was mostly white, so the hair ideal for women was tailbone length or longer, straight, (curly hair girls please chime in here am I wrong?) “natural” hair. My hair is beyond curly into coily and grows UP, and that very slowly so it stays very short it it’s natural state. So I never really fit into that ideal. I grew up admiring and envying all the super long straight hair around me.
I have long since embraced and fallen in love with my own hair, thankfully. But I’ve been learning a lot more lately about hair in general, including white hair. For example, I’ve learned a lot about damaged hair, and I now know that a lot of the hair I was seeing was extremely damaged. I also learned that having natural very blonde hair is rare past adulthood, so much of the hair I saw was probably artificially lightened, something I thought was verboten. All of this has me really wanting to hair about the hair journeys of all the women who are or used to be in. Including other black girls-what was your experience like? The few other black women I knew in the church almost always used heat or perm to straighten their hair. I envied them too because my mother never allowed me to alter my hair chemically or with heat as a child/young person. (I did experiment with these things as an adult after I left church.) I’d also love to hear from the guys about this because I know y’all had the inverted problem…not being allowed to have long hair! (Also beards, I believe?)
Also, extensions! I had braids on and off but I always felt guilty about them because I got the distinct impression that they were seen as “fake”. This may have been mostly in my head but idk because I remember hearing a few comments about wanting to see my “real hair” from the girls around me at the time. And hair coloring was downright against holiness standards…but like I said I know people still did. Please tell me any experiences with your hair!

Reddit: u/unhuhhunnyDiscord: hunnybeee
Name and House: Vissera Velaryon Age: 19
Cultural Group: Valyrian
Appearance: Inheriting her father’s height, lithe frame with a grace that catches people’s eye. Her complexion is smooth with her shimmering silver hair typical of House Velaryon. It is down past the small of her back, reaching her hip with waves like the sea. The way she styles her hair is distinct with thick twin braids that frame her face while silvery strands swoop back into a bun, ponytail, or braid at the crown of her head, secured by delicate pins and ornaments that tribute House Velaryon. She has silver lashes and sea-blue eyes. Vissera favors gowns of different shades of blue and green that reflect the sea, she also favors pearls and opal gems.
Trait: Erudite Skill(s): Scribe, Ravenmaster, Scholar(e), Prepared. Talent(s): Reading, Language Proficiency, Singing, Navigation, Diplomatic.
Starting Titles: -
Starting Location: Feast (wherever her family goes).
Alternate Characters: Cymella Dayne
Timeline:

• 6AC-12AC - Vissera is born to Valarr Velaryon and Raya Stark, the youngest of their four children bork on Driftmark. Vissera grows up on Driftmark, curious about the different tales from both her Velaryon and Stark heritage. While Valarr is away on adventures, she spends time with her mother and siblings.
• 12AC -18AC - She has taken great interest now in ancient texts, making it a goal to read every book in the Driftmark library.
• 20AC - Vissera becomes older and begins training in diplomacy. She is calm and level-headed, making her a natural at di mediation.
• 25AC - Current

Family Tree: https://www.familyecho.com/?p=UKX6H&c=lsp2e44u6t4nkfds&f=217818713135625061
AC
Name: Denys Harte
Age: 23
Cultural Group: Crownlands
Appearance: Above average, Denys is broad and sturdy. His hair is short, practical, and dark brown–almost black. His eyes are a shade of hazel, specks of green adding a shifting hue to the brown tone. His armor is well-maintained, taking pride in his appearance. He has an odd scar across his crooked nose.
Trait: Hale Skill(s): First Man Warrior(e), Axes. Talen(s): Seamanship, Honorable, Protective.
NPCS: Maester Boros – Medic
Ser Crispion Waters – Castellan

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This community is dedicated to exploring and appreciating the unique and tranquil world of Nepali and Tibetan rope incense. Known for its distinctive braided design and calming aromas, Nepali rope incense has been a part of traditional rituals and daily life in Nepal for centuries.
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ropeincense

[ [FIRST] [NEXT>]

Season 10 “Days of Fury” - Episode 2 “Visiting Omen”

He had hoped for a boring day. Boring days are good at work, and Santos was already expecting to not have many of them for a while.
The first couple of days were boring, as usual- Blackriver is a small town, and the worst that had happened was Nila and Kessa making a few wellness checks after worried calls from neighbors. A couple of people in denial, a few ashamed at their own violent outbursts and a stern warning to Tamm about painting others’ properties without asking first.
This morning, however, began with an all-hands meeting. There were no meeting rooms in the office, so they made do in the general workspace room, they all stood there at the center while Keya looked them over.
“We have received a report from a neighboring city about a convoy of protestors making its way to Blackriver” she describes without tone. At this point nobody bothers interrupting.
“This convoy is comprised of approximately four hundred and seventy eight individuals of multiple species, primarily human and venlil but with operationally relevant representations of the entire spectrum of size and mobility types” her paws are behind her back, her ears focused directly ahead, her eyes centered to keep the entire team on the core of her focus “They have crossed multiple cities already, generally engaging in verbal sparring with any figure of authority, parading signs and banners denouncing all manners of authorities as well as occasionally engaging in physical altercations with officers.”
“They are also known to engage in vandalism. Though primarily aimed at exterminator and police precincts as well as public offices, they have already caused considerable collateral to others they have identified as ‘collaborators’” there’s a single heartbeat of waiting for breath before she continues “They have, however, not shown to be an incredibly organized group or one with a clear goal and objective. The convoy appears to contain only extremely emotionally charged people with no clear overarching goal.”
“We are incapable of dealing with the situation should they turn aggressive, as such we will be simply maintaining watch and relocating the populace should they become a problem.” Then, she picks up her holopad and passes it to Lunek beside her “They can only follow one path with the entire convoy, the central street, therefore I have divided it into four sectors. One of each will be assigned to a sector.”
First her ears turn to the first target “Lunek, sector one at the entrance. As the most approachable member of the precinct your task is to give an initial image of harmlessness. Do not engage first, do not take initiative against them. Ensure the members of the herd in the area are warned of their approach. If they become aggressive, retreat and focus on the escape of the herd.”
She tilts her head a little bit, turning her ears the other way “Marik, sector two. Mostly the commercial area, your task is ostensive protection to lower the chances of them initiating aggression. Whereas protection of the herd is first priority your second priority is ensuring Tenve’s Hardware Store as well as Sunbreeze Meals and Watchful Café remain capable of providing anyone whose residences become damaged.” suddenly, she turns her head entirely to face Marik “Ostensive protection means dissuasion, ensure that they know they are not under threat and as long as those specific areas are not engaged, do not provoke”
Next in her line of fire is Santos “As our human officer you will be in sector three, nearby the precinct. They are liable to become most agitated in this area and your presence may serve to calm them. You are not to engage, if deemed necessary the precinct’s materials are considered expendable, do not attempt to stop them”
“Sector four, the exit of town, will be with me to ensure that they have fully left Blackriver and will not attempt to turn back” then she tilts her ears again “Aren, you will gear up with a CCG and remain out of view range, your task will be quick emergency response should the need arise.” she then points her tail at the last three officers “Vess, your task will be to inform the herd and ensure a clear path for the convoy while Nila and Kessa will gather all of our medical supplies and set a staging area out of the convoy’s range. Organize ambulance assistance from Striped Hill and Everrain”
Then, she turns her ears around to focus each one in turn “As any attempt at aggression will end only in negative consequences, and in order to reduce the apparent levels of threat you will be unarmed. The estimated time of arrival is a third of a claw, ready yourselves and be at your post in time. Dismissed.”
“Not sure if I like or I don’t that we had the cold bastard right now” Aren says, as soon as Keya had left the room “Maybe we should move in closer when the convoy gets to sector four?”
“Probably a good idea to be nearby” Santos adds with a sigh “They might take umbrage with her demeanor, hopefully they won’t be set off too hard.”
And with silent signs of agreement all of the officers of Blackriver depart for preparations. The first ones to leave the precinct are the ones in charge of support, the two girls set off early to find someone willing to permit usage of their lawn as a possible impromptu field hospital and a little while later Aren leaves with a heavy CCG.
Slowly, the clock ticks to the appointed claw… And soon enough, Lunek can see in the distance the incoming omen of people. At first a distant line in the horizon, slowly the dark mark on the road coalesces into distinct shapes, the shapes of hundreds of vehicles slowly rolling down the road.
When the first few get close to the initial buildings of the main street, the entire convoy slows down. Their process of preparation is seemingly laborious, each vehicle houses multiple people at a time, smaller cars full to the brim, flatbeds with more people on their cargo space than can safely be contained, even buses conscripted for the effort. They carry with them signs, flags, a multitude of symbols as they dismount their vehicles and start spreading out to fill the street.
They seem to naturally form two distinct yet highly mixed groups, at its most distinctive is the pack of humans who keep a good distance from each other. But they are not alone in this group as takkan, mazic, yotul, zurulian and even drilvar form this central group. But flowing around them, not avoiding their presence but never infringing in their space is the grey mass of venlil, packed tight together, and mixed in there adding color to the monochromatic flux are krakotl, tilfish, sulean, iftali, sivkit and even a seemingly very confused duerten.
And at the very core of the moving group are their vehicles, which gently start rolling forward again as the group starts moving. Lunek simply waits, silently, by the side of the road, his ears attentively swiveling from one side to the other, expression having given way to function. Before the first of the convoy even arrives close he turns to the side, making a pointing sign with his tail. A woman who had been watching from her yard flicks her right ear and runs back inside.
He continues to wait, scanning around at all times for the presence of… Anything. The street is empty of locals when the first visitors start to alight. The convoy is loud, their symbols carry a loudness of colors and their vehicles make as much noise as they can to draw attention, but those who walk seem content in allowing their tools to speak for them, for now. Lunek tries to make sense of the banners and signs, but the messages are disparate as the group- Some speak of injustices against their people, some speak of anger at invaders, some speak of betrayal.
“Fuck off, fireman!” comes the harsh bark of a human, causing Lunek to flinch. But flinch is all he does, he simply starts walking alongside the moving convoy.
The exterminator’s attention is drawn to the details of the few people he can distinguish amongst the mass. Something tickles at his pattern-recognition but he cannot quite ascertain what for a while, until a lightly limping mazic makes her way to the edge of the mass “Want to finish the job?!” she trumpets, her form towering over his.
“I’m just observing, ma’am.” Though the tremor of his voice is noticeable, he remains stoic. But her proximity makes him notice something about her body, marks in her wrists, neck and feet. Though mazic have powerful wrists and knuckles upon which they support the front half of their weight, her left wrist seems completely incapable of it, giving her a limp particular to a three-point walk. “To make sure there’s no impediment on your path” he notices the leathery skin around her left wrist is deeply blackened.
“Oh, ‘no impediment’ is that it? So everyone that lives here is an impediment?!” her voice booms.
“Ma’am” still, he does not yield nor does he break his pace following the convoy “We have not done anything other than inform our people of your presence…” for a half second all he hears is the sound of his own heart “We can’t do anything else.”
Those words, then, sealed his fate. The first shout to echo in his direction was a yotul howling “Yeah you’re useless!” and soon the avalanche came in multiple voices and languages “Can’t do shit!” “You’re just here to hurt people!” “Useless crap!” “Idiot!” and many more.
With every step and twitch the very average exterminator puts all of his focus on just being there. He lets himself cower a little bit, against the barrage it is difficult not to, but he continues to accompany. A few curious coats step out from their houses to watch, but the front of the convoy seems far too focused on the sole exterminator in view to bother anyone else.
A few steps ahead, an older venlil with a cane has moved the closest to the convoy as any watcher has up to now. Seeing her proximity to the increasingly rowdy crowd causes Lunek to speed up, quickly approaching her “Leva-”
But his words are stalled when she puts a paw on his shoulder, she gently puts her head against his for just a second “You’re doing good pup, keep at it” she mutters to him before breaking contact and turning around to walk back inside. He can spy her grandchildren looking on through the door. Lunek looks back at the still-shouting moving convoy, takes a deep breath, and continues to accompany them forward. A small pawful of them, however, seem to have fallen silent.
Once having reached the limit of his assigned zone, however, Lunek stops. He watches the convoy move forward, past the houses, now noisier than before. The initial hollering at him had turned into disjointed screams at some indistinct foe- Though the herd had been noticed of a foe, it was yet unaware of who, or what, said foe was. So for now it howled at the ineptitude of… Someone. And as the last of the convoy passes beyond the imaginary line of his duty, Lunek lets out a deep sigh and allows himself to sit down on the ground.
He stays there for a moment, without thought, simply letting the tension, confusion and fear permeate his body until a gentle paw touches his arm. He doesn’t need to look to identify it, he lets his lover use her strength to prop him up, raising him to his feet “Keina you shouldn’t-”
“Neighbor’s looking over Tiss” his wife wraps her arms and tail around him “I’m not leaving you alone.” she stays like that for a second, before breaking off “Do you need to go after them?”
“No”
Marik stalks through the sidewalk, moving with energy. His speed outpaces the movement of the convoy, his paws twitch to grasp at something that isn’t there and a deep and intense motion makes his short fur stand on end. He had let the convoy’s head move in front of him, simply standing still as he assessed as many as he could in the mass, and now he had begun to move towards the front again.
As he stalked forward he focused his sight on every member of the convoy that seemed of interest. A human whose clothes seemed suspiciously loose, a venlil whose movements were far too stiff, a gojid who kept his claws behind his back. He stared at each like they were his quarry, analyzing every piece of movement they made for threats, and yet aside from the challenge in the human’s gaze he saw no danger arise.
Tenve had closed his shop, so as the convoy moved forward Marik simply continued to follow along, scanning the crowd for threats. But the next point of interest arrives, and he rushes ahead placing himself in front of the only restaurant of the town. Sunbreeze Meals wasn’t a very common sort of restaurant, Blackriver did not have enough visitors for a normal restaurant to be profitable and was small enough most people had their meals at home, it most often served takeout for those farmers who’d spend so long in the field they would return home without the energy to feed themselves.
Sparing a look inside at the only five tables, Marik couldn’t keep a small thought away from his mind. How most who got their meals from Sunbreeze these days did so because they enjoyed the cooking rather than their need of work, ever since the sunspeck population has been brought under control and the maintenance of the fields had become much smaller. He feels the presence long before he can recognize what led him to feel it and turns to stare at a group of six that approach the entrance: Two humans, a tilfish, two gojids and a takkan had broken off from the convoy and approached the restaurant.
He traces his color band over each in turn, and they all bristle at his stare. One of the humans hesitates before continuing to walk inside, and Marik simply remains by the door with his arms crossed, left ear twisted as far back as he could to listen to the inside.
“What have you got here?”
“W-we mostly ha-have ready ma-made meals to go or- or- Or you can look over the menu”
“There’s no need to stutter, y’know”
“So-sorry-”
“Really, after everything y’all are still with this predator crap?”
The chimes on the door echo for the second time in sequence as Marik makes his way inside. The tilfish had started to lean over the counter while the other five had arrayed themselves behind her. They all turn their attention to him as he enters, including the venlil manning the counter. Marik keeps his gaze directly on the tilfish for a few uncomfortable seconds, before looking at the man behind the counter and making a simple sign with his tail, a short vertical bob with the tip and a slow horizontal swipe. It’s meaning simple: >Safe<.
After a few seconds someone else appears from the kitchen. The tall venlil carries a large stack of plastic boxes in his arms, all of them seemingly designed to attach to themselves so as to be carried with ease. He puts them down with a resounding crash on the counter, and opens up his voice with ice “Farmer’s Pots, good meal when you’re working and can’t go home.” With each word the owner of the restaurant and main cook comes closer and closer to the tilfish, until the last “Ten credits each.”
Nobody moves for a couple of seconds, and then one of the humans steps closer and brings a holopad over to the credit reader. There’s a noise indicating payment, and then the owner raises his head and tilts it to focus his favored eye and both of his ears at the man who paid “Now,” he shifts register in his voice and the language he speaks in “fuck off” he finishes.
With no small amount of surprise the group of six retrieve the stack of packaged meals, carefully walking out and back into the convoy. Marik stays behind for a moment “Didn’t know you spoke human”
“Pup’s enamored with their languages. Of course, first greek words he learns is swearing.”
Outside, Marik stalks further ahead to the next point of interest. He moves faster than the convoy, and has time to move in front of it. For a few meters the street is still clear as he arrives to find a group of people standing in front of the Watchful. Standing there were all of its employees, and even all of its regulars, twenty people total standing there as if they were having the most normal day. If not for their raised ears tracking every noise coming from down the street and their swaying tails swinging about like angry beasts.
One of them simply points his tail at the other side of the street as Marik comes closer, and the hunter doesn’t need a second command to understand the meaning. They have this, he has a less practical but just as important duty. He crosses the street quickly before the convoy starts coming closer, and heads towards the park.
As the regulars of the Watchful had feared, it took little time until a large group had broken off from the convoy. With the town on alert about the convoy they had found themselves bereft of prey and now this group had set out to find some, anyone who might be willing, or not, to listen to their grievances. And what is clearly a place designed for people to congregate looked most appetizing.
Marik shadowed the group as they moved through the park, but they were accompanied by nothing but silence. It wasn’t until they ran into the centerpiece of the park that he took initiative, stepping ahead of the group and simply… Standing there a distance away from the tree of many scions, between it and the group.
“What’s so important over there, fireman?” it was a venlil who asked, but his usage of an english word was not lost on Marik.
“A place you will respect” the exterminator has his arms crossed, the one good portion of his gaze set on the man who asked “This is a grave.”
Though the group that now prowled was large, those who heard were taken aback. One such, however, approaches closer. He was a venlil whose fur shifted between a soft, brownish color and a dirty white “A tradition of the tenets right? One of those family trees?” The man would have been distinctive in any other group due to his missing patches of fur around neck, wrists, even portions around his head. But such signs of long term damage were common in the convoy.
Interest. They had shown true interest, or at least one of them had. “No, but similar… The forgotten tree is a grave for the forgotten.” He felt like these people, at least the ones before him, could probably understand the meaning of this place “It is of no tradition. Someone, a long time ago, wanted to honor someone who was gone but whose name was not meant to be remembered. Someone who had disappeared in the system… So they borrowed on another’s tradition, and added a scion to this tree, with something in their memory. Others have done so similarly, until it became… A grave for the forgotten”
“Didn’t think you’d be worried about this kind of place” it’s a human that speaks up this time
“Our duty is to protect this town, what you think-” but Marik’s words are interrupted by that same venlil who had asked before. His demeanor suddenly shifts, his ears perk up and his entire body shifts forward for a moment. He hesitates, for a second everyone’s focus is on him, and then he runs towards the tree.
Marik follows behind, stopping just by the man’s side as he finds himself at the base of the tree. The man makes a direct line to somewhere, something he had found from the distance, as if it had called him. He finds a thick and heavy branch that had been bent down by the weight of its scions and memories, near its base and speaking of a memory left behind long ago is a braid of fur made of three colors, a dirty white, a soft brown and a dark grey, bound by the braids are two beads.
The man raises up a paw, but does not touch it. As if cradling it, he recites the words engraved in one of the beads “I will cross every star to return home” others have come closer to listen to the man’s hoarse voice “There will always be a home for you” he reads of the second one. The names on the beads have been scratched out. The man falls on his knees “S-she kept her promise and… I couldn’t keep mine…”
Marik steps back as he watches two others come closer to comfort the man. He looks as a few others approach with more caution, looking up at the tree with a bit more reverence than they had before. Then, he turns around and starts heading back towards the main street.
Gazing out as the convoy gains a new flux, some leave it as it passes to move towards the park while others leave the park to rejoin the convoy, Marik simply stays there at the side of the street looking as stern as he could. Though the noise of the convoy remains great, here in this portion it seems to die down a little. A thought crosses his mind as he turns an ear as far back as he can, a thought he can’t help but voice “I wonder how many are looking at their own graves…”
As the convoy progresses, Santos simply stands by the front of the precinct, hands in his pockets. He watches the convoy arrive, heart beating fast, constrained hands the only reason he hasn't started shaking quite yet. He starts tapping his right foot as he watches the first few people cross by without noticing what this place is yet, everyone knows where the precinct is, so aside from the words printed on the sign by the entrance there is no other marker of what this building’s purpose might be.
Of course, it is impossible for nobody to notice. The entire convoy seems to stop as soon as a zurulian riding on the shoulders of a human points a claw at the building and says something. A large group breaks away at the command, all of them holding disparate signs and messages. They turn on the building with enough roars that whatever they are attempting to transmit is lost on him.
Santos is thankful his hearing isn’t nearly as good as his coworkers’, as the cacophony is already overwhelming him. He changes stances slightly, taking his hands out of his pockets and crossing his arms. This prompts a small group to turn their looks at him, the focus easily identifiable with the humans in their midst, focus which made the hair in the back of Santos’ neck stand on end. Living in this place had refined his sense of danger, but he didn’t need that to realize what could happen.
It was a group of five that approached, four humans and a venlil. “Didn’t think they’d be letting humans live out here in the boonies” said one of his kin.
Santos just shrugs “Got hired to work here. Honestly, rural folk get a needlessly bad reputation, most of the time they just don’t care as long as you’re not bothering them”
“Really? In my-”
Santos interrupts the man “Cut it out” there are many ways in which humans make themselves obvious, many of which are their eyes. Santos did understand the fear of them and why it was primal, it was not the fear of the eyes but the fear of attention, it was knowing you were under the scrutiny and judgment of another that set off that emotion. It was rarely the eyes that showed this attention for most species, but for humans it was, and the man’s clear gaze on his badge made the entire situation clear to him “Stop beating around the bush and say it already.”
Someone else is who speaks. The tall woman starts not with words, however, but by spitting on Santos’ uniform “You fucking traitor” her voice is both fierce and cold at the same time. A very emotional coldness.
“There we go” he sighs “Just… Move on. We’re not getting anything out of this conversation”
“Why?” It was the venlil in the group that started this time “These people hate you, they hate you for what you are! Why do you work for them?!”
Santos rubs his eyes and sighs “Because someone has to. Change only happens when you make it happen, simple as that”
“Change?!” another one of the humans howls “Do you think those people can change?! You know the truth, those fuckers have never done anything good!”
“You know, if you had read your history books…” Santos stares at the one who had just had their outburst “You’d remember that we once thought the very same about the police” there’s the sound of glass breaking, but he doesn’t reaction “And a lot of us still do”
The human staring him down shifts their gaze slightly at the broken window of the precinct, then back at Santos “A broken window is easy to fix” he shrugs “As I was saying. Same shit.” he crosses his arms again “There’s a role those people play, a role that needs to be played because it’s important. Different name, different problems, still the same shit. Gotta fix this, I’m doing my part” he then stares at the venlil in the group “You do yours. Simple as that.”
“Role?!” the venlil of the group steps closer “What role could they possibly have?! They only exist to hurt people!”
Santos steps back, and raises his eyes a little bit. Of course, the classics had shown themselves in this instance. With as many humans as there are in the crowd there were now quite a few objects in the air, most clearly aimed at the precinct behind him. Though given the failed arc of some of them it was clearly not just the humans indulging in such a tried and true method.
“I used to be a wildlife preserve ranger” Santos then focuses his gaze on the aggravated venlil “This is a frontier town, if you walk in the brushes with shorts you’ll walk out with your ankles numb. The athai out there are rather harmless, but they keep the sunspecks under control.” He takes another step back “Since coming here I’ve been pest control, had to catch an exotic animal set loose, investigated a murder, helped stop a child from taking her own life, stopped large scale fights, helped a dozen people avoid being arrested for self defense and helped break a fucking siege”
Santos cracks his knuckles “There’s roles. Jobs that need done and there is one fucking organization doing it all. That is a problem.” Then, he sighs and takes a few more steps to the side, offering indifference from this point on “There’s nothing I can say that would make you calm down.” he says one final time “Just make sure not to injure yourselves in the process, alright?” His words seemed to be enough to make the small group cease trying to interact, as the convoy had begun moving again. Though the one human who had called him a traitor gets one final parting shot at the precinct “Where the hell did you get an egg in this planet…” Santos says with a raised eyebrow as the projectile impacts the front door.
Keya stands by a large sign, the same one that welcomes you into Blackriver on one side and sees you out at the other, the official limit of the town. Her arms behind her back, her attention directly towards the front of the convoy as they march. Something gains the whole of her attention, the car in the front. Someone draws her focus, a human with a megaphone on top of the car. The man shouts words of encouragement at the people behind him with the megaphone before turning to his holopad, then he bends over downwards to discuss something with the driver.
She simply remains there, waiting for the convoy to pass. But instead of moving on out of the city, here the convoy stops completely. Keya observes as the further end of the convoy starts to slowly compact upon itself, and her ears pick up something “Alright everyone, start getting ready, next town over is more than a claw away, make sure you’ve left nothing behind” the words were not meant for her, nor for anyone too far. They come from the same man she had seen standing on top of the car, but he had now climbed down and was talking with a group of multiple species.
It is clear they have some degree of leadership, though the convoy does not stop cleanly nor does it begin to organize with alacrity they do respond to the group’s organization. So Keya keeps her focus on them as they point, wave and talk between themselves, others and devices. But at least one of them has noticed her attention, a gangly and light-skinned human with fire-red hair, the man that was atop the car. He starts walking in her direction, before turning around for one final set of commands as he walks backwards “And make sure the guys at the back got all the crap! We’re here to be heard, not to trash the city!” he says before turning back again to head towards her. A venlil with pure white fur erupts from inside the car he was riding, quickly dashing to his side as they notice where he was going.
In a few moments both have come up to her, the human looking down at her with the venlil bristles at his side “Saw anything interesting, fireman?”
“What are you doing here?”
“What? Isn’t it obvious?!” it was the venlil that roared a response “You saw all of it! You know what they’ve done to us! What they’ve done to everyone! And you still work for those brahking monsters! It’s like you’re thankful they made you a cripple!”
The human puts a hand on the venlil’s shoulder, calming her demeanor just a little bit “We’re here because honestly, we’re all too tired of being fucking ignored is what. So what the fuck are you gonna do?!”
“I have put the wrong emphasis” Keya says with her lack of tone. She can see the human shiver just a little bit “My task is to ensure the safety of this town. Your convoy is a danger. We have eight field-capable officers, we cannot ensure the safety of the residents against a group like yours. People will take actions for reasons, you have broadcast your reasons clearly. You have chosen this place for a reason which I cannot ascertain.”
She makes sure her ears are trained towards both the human and the venlil, an action which causes the venlil to cower behind her partner “We do not house government agencies. This is a farming town of little note. The local precinct is a simple precinct, we have no regulatory or command authority. The town population is approximately double that of the number of your convoy. We have no individuals of appreciable social or political reach. There is nothing in Blackriver of interest to people attempting to change government policy, nor have there been actions taken here that I can identify as being cause for retaliatory actions within the context of your message.”
“I must ensure this does not happen again and the only way of doing so is minimizing our attractivity as targets. A logical assumption of your choice of quarry would be a town with the presence of politicians, a large city with constant news coverage, cities housing important government agencies or those containing the Regional Firebases”
“So I ask again. What are you doing here?”
The two remain silent for a few seconds, before the human turns around with a mouth noise “Whatever, I don’t need to explain myself to someone that won’t listen. Come on!” he starts to stalk back towards the car, but stops once he notices his venlil companion wasn’t moving.
The snow-white venlil has their focus on Keya, who offers a simple low forward swipe of her tail, a sign to proceed. Still, the venlil seems frozen in place until the human comes back and grabs hold of their paw with a gentle touch. At which point both finally return to the convoy.
Keya remains at the side of the road, watching as the convoy readies itself again to leave. People get back inside cars, they hop on the back of trucks and load themselves into buses. She continues to watch as the convoy takes its time riding out, making their way out of the town.
Once it is finally gone, multiple footsteps sound behind her. When she turns around she meets her officers, having returned from their assigned positions “They have left. I expect your reports of what happened in each sector by the end of your shifts” she states plainly, before looking at Santos “They did not appear to have a specific reason for targeting Blackriver.” The question remains unspoken.
The human officer just shrugs “Sometimes, you don’t know what you’re doing. We’re just a little town, I doubt they even know what exactly they’re angry about.” He looks at the tail end of the convoy as it leaves “Town was probably just a place they felt safe going to.”
“D-do you think we might get more like that” Lunek says, at the back of the group.
“Who knows…” Santos sighs “But if human history applies anywhere here… This is just a sign of worse things to come”
[ [FIRST] [NEXT>]
And thus the omen passes by. Feelings, emotions of all sorts, without a plan or a reason other than just their own rage and distress.
Did any of these even know what they were doing? And how much worse can it be when they do?

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The timeless charm of a classic floral cascade never goes out of style. This traditional design features a long braid adorned with an array of fresh flowers, typically jasmine, roses, or marigolds. The simplicity and elegance of the classic floral cascade make it a favorite among brides who want to stay rooted in tradition while exuding grace and beauty.

2. Jewel-Embedded Jada

For brides who love a touch of sparkle, jewel-embedded Pelli Poola Jada is a perfect choice. This style incorporates intricate jewelry pieces such as pearls, kundan, or semi-precious stones into the floral arrangement. The combination of flowers and jewels creates a luxurious look, adding an opulent touch to the bride’s overall appearance.

3. Fusion of Flowers and Ribbons

Modern brides are increasingly opting for innovative designs that blend traditional elements with contemporary flair. The fusion of flowers and ribbons is one such trend. In this style, colorful ribbons are intertwined with fresh flowers, creating a vibrant and playful look. This design is ideal for brides who want to add a pop of color and a modern twist to their traditional attire.

4. Botanical Wonderland

Inspired by the beauty of nature, the botanical wonderland Pelli Poola Jada features a mix of different types of flowers, leaves, and even tiny berries. This eclectic and whimsical design brings a touch of the garden to the bride’s ensemble, making it perfect for outdoor and garden weddings. The diversity of botanical elements creates a rich, textured look that is both unique and enchanting.

5. Minimalist Chic

Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication, and minimalist Pelli Poola Jada styles are gaining popularity among brides who prefer understated elegance. This design focuses on fewer, carefully selected flowers arranged in a clean, linear fashion along the braid. The minimalist chic style is perfect for brides who want a sophisticated, modern look without overwhelming details.

6. Traditional with a Modern Twist

For brides who wish to honor tradition but also embrace modern trends, a traditional Pelli Poola Jada with a modern twist is the way to go. This style incorporates traditional flowers like jasmine and roses but adds unique elements such as feathers, lace, or even dried flowers. The blend of old and new creates a distinctive look that celebrates cultural heritage while showcasing individual style.

7. Floral Crown and Jada Combo

Combining the elegance of a floral crown with the beauty of a Pelli Poola Jada, this style is perfect for brides who want to make a bold statement. The floral crown sits atop the head, while the jada adorns the braid, creating a harmonious and regal appearance. This dual design is ideal for brides who want to blend princess-like charm with traditional bridal aesthetics.

8. Seasonal Blooms

Choosing seasonal blooms for the Pelli Poola Jada not only ensures fresh and vibrant flowers but also adds a unique touch to the bridal look. Seasonal flowers reflect the time of year and can be tailored to the wedding theme, making the bride’s ensemble feel more personal and connected to the season. From springtime blossoms to winter florals, the possibilities are endless.

Final Thoughts

The Pelli Poola Jada is more than just a hair accessory; it's a celebration of tradition, beauty, and cultural heritage. With these trending styles, modern brides can find the perfect balance between honoring timeless customs and expressing their unique personality. Whether you opt for a classic floral cascade or a minimalist chic design, the Pelli Poola Jada will undoubtedly add an enchanting touch to your bridal look, making your special day even more memorable.
Embrace these trends, and let your Pelli Poola Jada be a reflection of your style and elegance. Happy wedding planning!

My hair has always been wavy but after losing half my body weight, half my hair went with it and never returned even when some weight did. When it thinned out the texture completely changed and I lost any sense of volume, ending up with flat stringy hair and maybe 2 waves if I’m lucky. To add, it’s been color treated off & on since I was a kid but barely ever bleached, it’s very low porosity & quick to tangle/break/frizz up. I’ve also always had issues with oily roots.
I’ve been on a mission to regain some livelihood & it’s helping for sure but I just can’t seem to fully make things click for myself.
I’ve been working with this routine lately:
•Brush before shower, ends to roots in short strokes •Stand with my head flipped upside down inwards & saturate hair •Lather a small amount of Moroccan Oil shampoo on roots only & use a scalp brush in small straight movements, no circles to avoid tangling •After completely rinsing my shampoo out, medium sized (I have long hair) squeeze of Moroccan Oil conditioner & squish to condish until unable to wring out any more liquid •Fully rinse by squishing water into & out of the hainow formed curls •While hair is still decently saturated, distribute a small amount of Amika Hydro Rush leave-in and/or NYM curl defining cream, squish in, immediately plop into a t-shirt •Carefully release after 10-20 minutes & distribute a very light amount of Hairitage curl enhancing foam •Diffuse on cool until I can’t anymore
I switch around the order of things here & there in attempts to troubleshoot things, and I’m not loyal to basically any of these products I just use what I have access to. For a while I was throwing a little bit of Moroccan Oil on my ends when I was done with all this but quickly learned what I already knew but was denying… that oils are too heavy and, well, oily for me.
The problems I’m running into:
1.) Squish to condish works sooo very well for my curl pattern and helping to absorb the product, but I feel as though I just CANNOT get all of my shampoo or conditioner out of my hair without running it under the water like normal which kinda defeats the purpose, no?
2.) Everything I’m doing immediately creates a beautiful and distinct wave pattern, but as soon as I walk out of my house or it fully dries you’d never even know the curls were just there. I don’t know if it’s the product order, product choices, or the ingredients but I know it’s getting weighed down.
3.) Overnight styles other than braids?? Even if it stays in place for a day, I know there’s no saving it for a day 2. I’d just like to protect my hair overnight & keep next day styling easy without always having to commit to the crimped look.
TIA! :)

My car's transmission is on the fritz, so it's in the shop and I'm working from home for at least today. Thank goodness I can even work from home, or things would be a lot more complicated. Anyways, that's just a bit of a vent. I've also decided that I might do little lore-esque prechapter bits for some extra flavor. Hope you guys enjoy them! I find them to be fun little thought experiments on how people might perceive the world I've created from within vs from my own perspective. Enjoy some crafting and some romance!
First Previous Next
We know that the spots that are caused by looking at a source of light are, in fact, damage of some sort to the eye. This is confirmed by the spots rapidly disappearing should someone be healed whilst experiencing them. But why? Is there a divinity within light, beyond what our mortal eyes can withstand? Is there some sort of invisible emanation that comes alongside the light that damages us in some way? The discovery of light damaging the eye has opened more questions for me than it has closed.
-Musings on the Relations of Light and Fire, by Jarwic Leftun
\***
Xander carefully opened the door, finding Gabrelle already asleep, and sat down on a chair. Maybe he could get that adaptive camouflage to work right on bright colors. Surely he had some colorful things in his inventory.
He did in fact have a few colorful things in his inventory, and he whiled the rest of the night away making small adjustments to the runic array that was embroidered into the cloth. He was satisfied before dawn, the cloth now performing as well with light colors as it had with darker colors. Now he just needed to make a cloak out of it. He briefly considered coating his armor with the array, but discarded it. There might be times where he’d want to be seen. Besides, a hooded cloak would better break up the outline of his figure, the ripples of fabric, especially if he were to crouch or lay prone, obscuring his outline even more. In little time at all, he had a long, deep hooded cloak of the color shifting, runed cloth in his hands. He stashed it in his inventory for now, as he had no particular need to sneak up on something right now. The rest of the time before dawn he spent silently sitting in the chair he’d chosen, trying to keep his thoughts to a minimum, just daydreaming. Night dreaming? He couldn’t sleep anymore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to let his mind wander.
As the dawn came and the sun began to shine through the window of the room, Gabrelle slowly awoke, once more finding Xander sitting in a chair rather than in bed.
“Mmf,” She grunted as she stretched. “Morning, Xander. You got back late.”
“Morning, yourself,” Xander said, turning his head to look at Gabrelle. “Yeah... Yeah, I guess I did.”
“What were you doing, anyway?” She asked, curious. “You didn’t mention that you’d be out late, just that you were going to go to see Valteria at her shop.”
“I uh... went on a date.”
“I knew it! ‘Comparing notes’ was a date!” Gabrelle exclaimed triumphantly.
“It was not!” Xander complained. “But we went to a tavern in the evening and it sort of... turned into a date on the way there.”
“Awhh, that’s so cute,” Gabrelle said. “Did it go well? Is she nice? Did you kiss?”
“I think it went well. We talked a lot about different projects and ideas we had. I also got to meet another [Godsmarked] - he owns the tavern we went to. I think she’s nice. Maybe a little shy. I think she’s gotten used to being treated differently by people. I don’t think she really believed that I wanted to go on a date with her, at first. ...And yes. We kissed.”
“Ooooh, look at you! You’re growing up so fast!” Gabrelle teased.
“Oh hush. I’m older than you!” Xander huffed, then returned to seriousness. “But ah, if I’m going to be dating someone... we need to have a conversation, Gabrelle.”
“We need to stop sleeping together?” Gabrelle quickly deduced before Xander could say it himself.
“Yeah... It doesn’t feel right, even though it’s just platonic between us. I don’t think I would appreciate being in Valteria’s situation and knowing that the person I was seeing was sleeping with someone else at night.”
“Well, I figured this would happen eventually,” Gabrelle said. “Either you or I were bound to find someone eventually. Don’t worry, I’m not upset. Don’t get me wrong, the snuggles were nice, but like I told you a while ago, I don’t have nearly as much trouble sleeping when I’m with the team.”
“Thanks for not being upset, Gabrelle.”
“You know this means you have to start paying for your own room, though, right?”
“Ah, shit, you’re right. I forgot.”
Xander left the room to allow Gabrelle some privacy to get dressed and meandered back down the stairs to see if any other members of the team were already up. Looking around, he spied Graffus eating breakfast at at table and moved to sit with the dwarf.
“Mornin’” Graffus greeted Xander through a mouthful of bread.
“Morning,” Xander greeted back.
“Glad to see you made it back, we were wondering if you’d be out all night,” Graffus told him, after swallowing his bread.
“I was out a bit late, I suppose. I let the time get away from me.” Xander said, not really wanted to be teased again about going out on a date. “So what are you planning to do today?”
“Bah, Frazay has roped me into helping her do research for the drakeling. So reading is what’s in store for me.” Graffus tore himself off another piece of bread from his plate and slathered it with jam. “You going to be going back to that [Tinker] you’ve been spending time with lately?”
“Yeah, that’s the plan. I’m supposed to learn more about converting mana types today, and also help her fix the suit of armor that I wrecked.”
“Welp,” Graffus said, now on his last piece of bread, “I hope ya learn something new. Never had much to do with [Tinker]s – not saying I dislike them, just that I haven’t had much experience with them – so it don’t make much sense to me. Using a hammer is about the only overlap in our professions.”
“I think your hammer is significantly larger than the one most [Tinker]s would use,” Xander chuckled. Thinking about what he should be doing before he headed to Valteria’s, he asked Graffus, “Hey, I might need to buy some monster parts or elemental cores, something like that, for practice. You know where I would go to find stuff like that?”
Graffus shrugged. “Dunno. My guess would be an alchemy and reagents shop. That’s generally what we’ve sold monster parts to that didn’t go to a smith or leatherworker.”
“Thanks, Graffus.”
The two of them chatted for a while longer, catching up on what each other had been doing. Graffus excused himself to finish getting ready for the day, saying he needed to tend to his beard, leaving Xander downstairs. Deciding to be productive and proactive, Xander stood as well and headed out of the inn to find an alchemy shop.
It wasn’t long before he found one, a familiar scene of an eclectic collection of powders, liquids, crystals, and strange organic things floating in jars inside the building. The proprietor was a dwarf, seated at a workbench. They were grinding something into a powder as Xander entered. He received a distracted greeting before the dwarf returned to his work.
Xander wandered about the shop for a few minutes, looking at the various materials throughout the shop. He identified what he thought might be an elemental core, a jagged piece of crystal looking material that seemed to have an inner flame. As for the monster parts in jars, Xander had no idea what was what. He finally felt he’d waited long enough and moved closer to the worktable that the dwarf was still sitting at, working away at the mortar and pestle.
“Excuse me,” Xander said, grabbing the shopkeep’s attention.
“Mm?” The dwarf said questioningly. “Can I help you find something?”
“I was wondering if you had any elemental cores. Something small, I just need one to practice with.”
“Aye, I’ve a few of them around the shop. You want something to practice with? So a relatively weak core, then – not all the small ones are weak. Do you need any particular type?” The dwarf stood up and stretched, moving to one of the shelves.
“Uhm no, just whatever is cost effective, I suppose.”
The alchemist rifled through the various bits and bobs on one of the shelves nearby before producing a small chip of what looked to be a semi-translucent stone. It was tinged slightly yellow with streaks of white. “This here is a chip off a lightning attuned core. Pretty weak, but it does still produce mana.”
Xander could see the dwarf’s arm hair standing up as if from static electicity as he held up the stone. “How much?” He asked.
“Twenty gold.”
Xander shrugged. Twenty gold wasn’t an issue for him anymore, and he didn’t feel like haggling. He always hated haggling. “Sure.” He fished out the coin and handed it over to the dwarf.
The dwarf handed over the stone to Xander and the pop of a static electric shock could be heard as a tiny arc passed between the two of them. The dwarf grunted and shook his hand. “Thanks for the business,” he told Xander. “Anything else you find yourself in need of?”
“Not at the moment, but thanks for asking.” Xander waved goodbye to the dwarf and pocketed the tiny elemental core. He continued down the street in the direction of Valteria’s shop, thinking about how he was going to undo the welding job he’d done on Valteria’s armor. He’d need her to guide his repair efforts.
Xander returned to the inn momentarily to grab one of his golems. He settled on Atlas for now, as it was the most basic of the humanoid forms he’d created. No extra arms or weird feet on him, no sir.
Arriving at the building that contained Valteria’s home and shop, Xander knocked before opening the door. “Morning,” he called out.
“Xander! Hello!” Valteria called out. She was at the same work bench she’d been at yesterday. Jarrett didn’t seem to be in the shop at the moment, as Xander wasn’t able to spot the man.
Commanding Atlas to follow him in and closing the door behind him, Xander started walking towards Valteria. “How’s it going?” He asked.
“Good, it’s going good,” Valteria responded as Xander brought a stool over to her workbench. “How about yourself?”
“Not bad. The upside of not sleeping is that I never struggle in the mornings now. I used to hate waking up.” Xander laughed. “I even ran an errand before I came here! Picked up this.” Xander fished around in his pocket until he found the small chip of elemental core and held it up for Valteria to see.
“Core?” She asked distractedly, staring at Atlas. She tore her eyes away and looked closely at the small crystalline stone. “Lightning attuned?”
“That’s what the [Alchemist] at the shop said,” Xander affirmed. “Said it was a very weak one, but that it did still produce mana.”
“Mmm, a good practice piece, then.”
“I thought it would be, too. Not that I know what to do with it, yet.”
“Well, how about this: I teach you to set the stone and make some conduit, and then you can help me fix my armor. All the glue has turned to dust by now, thank the gods.”
“Sounds fair enough. So, how do mana conduits work?”
“Well, the concept is simple enough. It’s a tube which conducts mana,” Valteria began to explain.
“Mmhm.” Xander nodded along.
“What you need is a setting – usually of silver, as it has good mana conductivity – which will be the first step of conduction, taking the mana from the stone. Simply wrapping the core in silver wire can work well enough, drawing in the mana that the core puts out through its surface, but for a more effecient setting, small holes are usually drilled into the core to set the wire into as well, giving more surface area to draw from.”
“So we care about the mana conductivity of the material, then? That makes sense, I just hadn’t thought about it. I actually did a little experiment with my rune work to test which fillings were the most conductive.”
“Oh really?” Valteria said, interested. “What were your results?”
“Well, gold and silver were high up there in conductivity, and probably make the most sense for someone who has to physically manipulate material without use of a skill – both for a core setting and for inlaying a rune – but I did find that sapphires and rubies were even more efficient at transferring mana than gold and silver.”
“Mmm... interesting. I’ve heard of gemstones being used in very high-grade settings, as well as various other exotic materials. I read an account of one [Mechanist] who used tubes of mercury to conduct mana, though the relative effectiveness compared to silver wasn’t mentioned.” Valteria cleared her throat. “Uhm, now, where was I? Right, basic settings. Once you have your core – or monster organ, if you’re going that route – you connect it to the conduit. Usually, this is also silver wiring. I like to braid several smaller wires together, personally. I find it to be sturdier and hold up to flexing better. From there, it needs to be tied into a device. Which is a topic for tomorrow.” Looking around the shop, Valteria seemed to identify something on one of the shelves nearby. “I have a core that you could watch me set, and then you could try setting your own, if you’d like.”
“That sounds good to me,” Xander said. “I always love to see a master as work,” he added, opting for a little flattery.
“Follow me, then.” Valteria said, standing up from her stool and waving for Xander to follow.
Xander followed Valteria as she walked over to the shelf she’d been looking at earlier and took a palm sized, bright green stone from it. “Nature attuned core,” She explained, holding it for Xander to see. “I’m told it was taken from some kind of moving tree.” Valteria then moved to another worktable, on which were several of what looked to be drill bits to Xander. There was also an apparatus that look like it was designed to hold the bits, which was confirmed for him when Valteria slotted one of the small drill heads into the device. “This thing,” Valteria said, waving the drill a little bit, “is a life saver. I used to have to drill holes with a hand cranked one. Worth every single coin I paid for it to get an enchanted one.” She turned a dial on one side of the handheld device, which Xander was coming to think of as a magic dremel tool, and it began to come to life, the drill bit beginning to spin with a quiet whirring sound.
“Neat.” Xander commented. He watched patiently as Valteria drilled a series of shallow holes in the stone, the distinct screeching of metal on stone echoing through the shop floor. “So where’s Jarrett today?” He asked.
“Oh, he has the day off today. He asked for it about a week ago, not sure what for, though,” Valteria said distractedly. Soon she was finished with the holes she was drilling into the core, and moved to another workbench. “Now we create a setting for the core. This is a fairly simple way of doing it, mind you, but it is effective.”
Xander watched as she took sections of pre-braided silver wire and fitted the ends into the holes she had drilled. Once each hole was filled with a section of wire, Valteria began to pull wire from a spool, wrapping the stone until it was completely covered with silver wire and binding the braided sections to the stone in the process. “There,” she said, setting the stone down on the workbench. “A perfectly serviceable setting."
“So, if I understand correctly, you coat the core in a mana conductive material – the more surface area, the better, hence the holes – to create a setting?”
“Mmhmm,” Valteria said, nodding.
“Seems fairly straighforward. And then you connect the silver wiring that’s wrapped around it to more wiring, and attach that to your device? Why the distance? Why not just connect the setting directly to the device?”
“You absolutely can, if space isn’t an issue. Technically, the connection between the mana battery and the device, even if it’s just a single point with no distance, is still referred to as a conduit, though, so it’s considered a three part creation.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Do you want to try making your own, now? I don’t mind lending you a little wire.”
“Sure, but I should be good on material, I can produce it with my skills. Doesn’t last without a source of mana, but I guess the core itself might provide enough. Think this little chip is a bit small to put holes in, though.”
Xander looked at the small piece of crystal in his hand. If he just need as much contact as possible with a mana conductive material, his best bet would be to embed it into a sapphire or ruby. He decided on ruby, for no particular reason. Still holding the chip of core in his hand, he concentrated on his [Creation] ability. Valteria watched, amazed, as a ruby began to take form and grow around the piece of core until it was completely coated in a thin layer of gemstone.
“So, you can just... make things?” Valteria asked, sounding jealous.
“Well, it costs mana, and anything I make that isn’t provided a source of mana that leaves my person disintegrates in a day, but, yes. I can just make things with my skills. But,” he added, cutting off Valteria’s complaint of unfairness, “I have never received a skill that actually lets me improve a material. Sure, I have runes, which generally makes up the difference, but I don’t have any skills that improve the things I make. So, if you made a mana battery, and I made a mana battery the same way with identical materials, yours is going to be better, I assume, because you have skills that passively improve the things that you make, am I right?”
“Okayyy,” Valteria huffed. “I guess that does make it a little less unfair. But ugh! It would be so nice not having to source materials.” She looked at the ruby with a piece of core set inside it that Xander had made. “Well, I guess that about does it for making a setting... I thought it might have taken you longer to make one. I guess we can move on to fixing my armor even sooner! It’ll be nice to have it up and moving again.”
“Sure, sure, we can do that. Where is it, anyway?” Xander asked, looking around the shop again like he somehow would have missed the eight foot tall suit of armor.
“It’s in a shed behind the house,” Valteria explained. “I have it on a hoist so I can work on it.”
“Ah, that would explain why I haven’t seen it around.”
Exiting the shop, stopping for Valteria to put a small ‘closed’ sign on the door, the two of them made their way around the building, where Xander saw the small shed that presumably held Valteria’s armor. It looked like it could just barely hold the armor and one person – two, if they were comfortable with each other – inside it.
“So this is where the magic happens?” Xander asked.
“If by ‘magic’ you mean maintenance and upgrades, then yes,” Valteria agreed. She opened the door of the shed, which comprised most of the front of the tiny little building, revealing her suit of armor, which was currently hanging from several chains attached to pulleys on the ceiling. Plates of armor were laying strewn about the suite, leaving the joints and inner workings more exposed.
Xander whistled, looking at the inner workings of the suit. He could see gears, cogs, and joints, and throughout the entirety of the armor were running filaments of silver wire, which he assumed were mana conduits running to and from elemental cores and the various mana powered aspects of the suit. “This thing really is impressive. Almost as impressive as the woman who made it,” he said.
Valteria giggled, “Stop it! You’re supposed to be fixing this mess, not flirting with me!”
“Awh, can’t I do both?” Xander asked, trying to sound as saccharine as possible.
“Mmm, I suppose that if you are sufficiently skilled at multitasking, I might allow it,” Valteria said in a mockingly thoughtful tone.
“Well, I just so happen to be an expert, so flirt away I shall,” Xander replied. “Now, how about the beauty in front of me shows me exactly where the other beauty in front of me needs some repairs?”
Valteria sighed at Xander’s antics, but he could see the slight flush in her face. “Well, you welded the wrist joints, elbows, and knees. They aren’t welded all the way round, it’s more like you smoothed over a portion of it like it was wet clay. So if you could just... put it back? Shape it back to how it was, that’s should be all that’s needed.”
“Pretty straightforward,” Xander said, standing behind Valteria as she pointed out each joint. He could see the misshapen parts where he’d slapped a weld onto the metal. He leaned over her and put his hands on the elbow joint that they were closest to and began to shape the metal back to its original form.
“You’re... very close,” Valteria murmured to him as he formed the metal.
“Would you like me not to be?” He asked, carefully.
Valteria was silent for a moment before answering, “No...” quietly.
Xander carefully shifted to be a little closer, but still not quite touching, as he moved on to the wrist joint of the same arm. The process itself was simple, but he was enjoying taking his time. As he finished the wrist, he turned to look at Valteria. He found himself looking right into her eyes, as she was staring back at him. Unable to resist the temptation he leaned in a little closer, gauging Valteria’s reaction. When she, too, leaned towards him, he closed the small gap between them, drawing her into another kiss. Valteria pressed herself against him, the shed hiding them from any prying eyes on the street, and let out a small noise as Xander squeezed her tight. She was breathing a little bit harder than before the kiss as they separated again.
Valteria let out a breath. “You’re… a really good kisser.”
“Yeah?” Xander said, pleased with himself. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“And you’re a tease, looming over me like that in this tiny little shed,” Valteria continued. “Now you’ve got me all flustered, how am I supposed to work now?” She mock complained.
Xander was glad to see that Valteria was comfortable enough with him to joke like that. “Forgive me,” he said formally, making a deep bow, “How ever can I make it up to the lady?”
“Oh stop it, I will tolerate no bowing and scraping, even in jest,” Valteria said, slapping him lightly on the shoulder, as he was still holding the bow. “You can make it up to me by fixing the rest of these joints! And by taking me out to dinner?” She added, hopefully.
“I think that can be arranged,” Xander said. “Is there anywhere you have in mind? I will admit, I haven’t become very familiar with the local restaurant scene, what with my… dietary restrictions.”
“It doesn’t… make you feel bad to go out to a restaurant, does it?” Valteria asked softly, watching his face for a reaction.
“Nah, don’t worry,” Xander said, waving off the question with one hand. “It doesn’t bother me too much. Sure, I miss the taste of a good cut of steak, but I was never that into food. Eating was more of a thing I did because I had to, so I’m not completely devastated by the loss. And I can still get some vicarious enjoyment out of watching someone else enjoy their food. Really the worst part is awkwardly having to refuse ordering anything,” he said with a laugh.
“Alright, if you say so,” Valteria said, letting out a slight breath of relief. “I was just worried that it might be upsetting to you, is all. I know I would miss eating.” She paused for a moment, something clearly on her mind. “What do you miss? If you don’t mind my asking. I just… well, I’m curious what it’s like for you.”
“Mmm, in a lot of ways, life is still the same, and in other ways, I’m technically doing better than I was before. I’m incredibly resistant to damage now, even without my armor. I do miss sleeping, though. I try to give my mind a rest and just sort of daydream and let my thoughts wander or do some meditation during the nights, but it’s just not the same. Also means I’m the one that pulls guard duty through the night,” he grumbled. “Let’s see, what else, what else. Ah, right. I can’t smell anything. Or taste. I haven’t worked out how to recreate those senses, yet. Though no sense of smell can be handy sometimes, I suppose. I don’t know if you’ve done much merc work – you mentioned being surprised that I’m not just moonlighting – but uh… the smells that you encounter on a battlefield are… unpleasant. To say the least. It was weird not having a sense of touch either, but I’ve resolved that. It’s a little bit different than my previous, natural sense of touch, but I’ve become accustomed to it to the point that I don’t much think about the difference anymore. I think I’ve even got the density of receptors down in certain areas compared to others, so I'm more sensitive in some areas than others now, just like I used to be. I’m still immune to being tickled though, so don’t even think about it – that’s a fight you’ll lose.” Growing a bit more somber, Xander continued on. “I think… the biggest thing I miss is just the feeling that I fit in more. Now I always worry about being different, there’s that nagging fear that anyone I get to know well is going to reject me once they find out what I am. Like I’m secretly lying to everyone around me with this façade I have going on.”
Valteria nodded sadly. “I get that. I’ve been… rejected before, too. At least it happens or not right from the beginning for me. I get to know if they look down on me for being different immediately instead of fearing they might later down the road.”
“Yeah,” Xander said. “People can really suck sometimes. But at least I can just, like, not tell people what I am if I so chose. You, my teammates, and the guild, since it’s on my status sheet, are really the only people who know. I keep it pretty private. You can’t do that, so I think you probably have to deal with a lot worse than I do. Not that I’d want you to hide what or who you are,” he added. “I happen to be quite enamored with who you are,” he said, teasing a smile from Valteria’s sad face.
“Sorry to bring up such a dour topic,” Valteria apologized. “I didn’t think much on it before I asked.”
“No worries,” Xander told her. “Honestly, I think it’s good to be able to talk about it with someone. It’s healthy to be able to get you feelings out there. And it helps that I feel like you understand where I’m coming from with it, though from a slightly different perspective.”
“You’re surprisingly thoughtful sometimes,” Valteria said, only half teasing.
“Only sometimes?” Xander asked with a faux expression of hurt on his face. “By the way, you didn’t react much to my comment about moonlighting as a merc. Do you ever go on contracts?”
Valteria shrugged. “I certainly wouldn’t describe myself as a professional mercenary. Moonlighter is an apt descriptor, for me, I think. I have gone on a couple, here and there, mostly on kill contracts that would net me a core or organ that would be useful for my work.”
“Mm, that makes sense. I suppose it could be handy having access to the ability to take contracts that would give you access to specialty materials,” Xander said.
“It’s also good for business,” Valteria explained. “Mercs tend to like to buy from someone who has at least been out on a contract or two before.”
“Ah, that makes sense. What kind of things do you sell to mercenaries, anyways? I saw Jarrett with a crossbow yesterday, but I imagine you make other things, too.”
“Oh all kinds of little things. Portable, flameless heaters for cooking. Water purification sieves. Mm, let’s see… I’ve made a few custom order devices, too. One customer wanted to be able to shoot a jet of flame from their gauntlet, that was a fun one.”
“Ooh, that does sound fun… reminds me of my flamethrower.”
“Your flamethrower?”
“Yeah, it’s basically a big tank with a hose attached to it. At the end of the hose is a pump that causes the flammable liquid – I use dragon’s tar – to shoot out. Add a flame that the tar passes over and bam! You’ve got a giant stream of flame that will coat anything it hits with sticky, flammable tar,” Xander said, excitedly describing the device.
“That’s… impressive. And kind of horrifying,” Valteria responded.
“Mm… I guess you’re right. I mostly use it on giant spiders. Blugh,” Xander shuddered. “But yeah, I suppose it’s not the nicest of ways to go. Very effective for area denial, though. Ah, actually I have an idea for crossbow bolt head that would ignite when it shatters! We should make that sometime and see if it sells.”
“Hmm, I think that would draw some buyers. A flaming bolt head you didn’t have to light first could be desirable to certain buyers.”
“Put that on the list and we’ll get around to it sometime.”
“We have a list?” Valteria said confusedly.
“We should!” Xander said with a laugh. “Now let’s get the rest of these joints done.”
The repair of the other arm and the leg joints that Xander had locked into position during the tournament was a short affair. Looking over the bare metal frame of the armor still hanging from the ceiling, Xander clapped his hands together, mimicking dusting them off. “Good as new!” He exclaimed. Looking over to Valteria he asked concernedly, “It is good as new, right?”
Valteria had been staring at the armor as well, lost in thought about how she was going to improve it next. “Hmm? Oh, yes. It’s right as rain again, ready for use. Thank you, by the way. For fixing it,” She said awkwardly.
“Well I’m the one who broke it, so it’s only fair that I fix it. So what do you want to work on next?” Xander asked. “I could do some rune work for you. Orrr… we could kiss some more?”
Valteria flushed at the question, but didn’t immediately say no.
A few minutes later, she found herself on her tip toes and lightly pressed against the interior wall of the shed, her lips pressed against Xanders.
Once the two of them were done acting like teenagers parked in a secluded parking lot, they made their way back into the shop. Stepping inside and closing the door behind them, Valteria let out a breath. “I think… you are going to have to do a lot of rune work to make up for how much you just kissed me, Xander.”
“What, you didn’t like it?” He said with a raised eyebrow.
“I didn’t say that,” Valteria said with a smirk.
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• Very slow to boot up, honestly thought my computer had crashed. It could be my computer. It's a gaming computer, but getting a little old now. It does run RimWorld, Minecraft, Skyrim, Borderlands, etc with no issues, though.
  
• Very minimal accessibility settings in the Settings menu. There's Audio with 4 sliders for overall volume, music, sound effects, and ambient volume. Graphics, with a checkbox each for fullscreen and V-sync, a slider for volumetric fog quality, and a dropdown each for quality preset, general quality, resolution, and clouds quality. There is a Controls menu with a slider for camera sensitivity (no numbers or visible markers, just a plain slider), and a checkbox each to make sprint a toggle, turn on auto-walk, toggle collecting, and toggle aiming. There is a single button to reset all settings from Audio, Graphics, and Controls all at once.
  
• 3 save slots available.
  
• Prologue map is what is included in the demo, and leaving that area will end the demo.
  
• Controller support not fully implemented yet, but controller scheme is in the Contols menu when paused. I tried using my controller and sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, but it's clearly on the docket.
  
• Character is customizable. 3 light skintones, one of which is light brown, 2 dark brown-- the jump between the last 2 brown tones is significant, whereas the 2 lightest skintones are only barely different. The character is generally pretty femme presenting no matter how you tweak the character settings. There's not really a flat-chested option if that's important to you. 2 of the 5 outfits are dresses, the other 3 have some other "feminine" touches like lace. Their name will always be Reka.
  

There are 5 tattoo options, 3 of which are fingehand tattoos, one very visible tattoo for the front of the neck, and one very small one for next to an eye-- or no tattoos. 2 curly hairstyles, a shorn style, 2 wavy braided styles, and the other 6 options are straight hair in various lengths/styles.
There are 2 sliders for Freckle Amount and Freckle Intensity. 12 eye color options, 3 or 4 shades each of brown, green, blue, and grey. No fantasy colors (pink, purple, etc). 3 sliders for hair Color, Warmth, and Brightness. 6 eyebrow types. Accessory options include a lacy choker, a set of rings for each hand (hard to see but cute), and 2 head kerchiefs that switch your hairstyle to the one that "goes with" the kerchief.

• Button Remapping seems to be available in the Pause menu during the demo.
  
• There is free-cam. This will require the use of both thumbsticks on a controller, or WASD + mouse. However, the game is paced slow enough (so far) that if you can only use one hand to play you may still be able to play. I didn't come across any quick-time events in the demo.
  
• Everything kinda melds into everything else visually. It all kinda has this grey-brown wash that makes things... harder on the eyes in terms of picking things out? Especially if you get glare from the in-game sun, which is tbh pretty painful.
  
• No colorblind mode or high contrast mode, which kinda ties in with the point above. In the character creation menu and pause menu, there are non-color indicators of what you've selected. A diamond shape next to the option in the pause menu, and a fancy second outline in the character creation menu for thumbnails, or a circle if you're using a slider like for eye color. But during gameplay there are some things that may be difficult to pick out if you're colorblind or have low-vision, just due to the lower tone contrast between things and only sometimes having sparkly indicators (there are none in some instances) like some games have for interactables.
  
• The sun does eventually go down, so there is a daylight/night cycle in the game.
  
• There's a bar-compass for navigation (like in Skyrim) and you must meet Baba Yaga to unlock a map. If you go in the right direction for a bit you'll see an icon for your house on the compass.
  
• The camera feels a touch jerky. I tweaked the camera sensitivity down, and even then sometimes the camera feels a little jerky. I struggle with vertigo, so for other folks who do, beware.
  
• Text is white, a serif font, and not adjustable in size, font, color, or contrast. No contrast box around the text to make it pop. So far the size of the text has been okay for me, but I think the dialogue text in specific would be a pain for anyone with low vision, playing on Steam Deck/ROG Ally, or anyone who's dyslexic as the font feels a bit narrow and crowded. Also the text for the button prompt is way too small even on my (good sized) monitor that I'm close up to. The text in the journal you eventually get is also on the small side, low contrast, and item headers are in "fun" fonts that may be a pain for dyslexic and low vision users.
  
• Typo(s?)-- minor quabble but one of the villagers told me to "stay save" instead of "stay safe".
  
• You get to carry a baby goat. For a lil quest from a villager.
  
• Rewards for villagers' tasks are often decor from what I've seen in the demo.
  
• There are some cute visual touches, like things you've gathered hanging off Reka's backpack.
  
• You can read and interact with other things while carrying something-- don't do it (yet). That's how I glitched the giant Fabergé egg under the floor of Baba Yaga's hut (I could see it between the planks, but couldn't interact/pick it back up.
  
• Gathering distant things requires holding two buttons at once, similar to aiming down sights and then firing in some games.
  
• Baba Yaga is sassy. 10/10, no notes, I love her.
  

All in all, I think it's fun and it'll be cute. But not terribly accessible for anyone with vertigo or visual issues, unless the devs tweak some things. I like the visual style, though I wish things were a little more distinct so it's a little easier to see things.

I think I am coming close to my final version before moving on. I want to get better at showing and not telling so that enough of the protagonist's character comes through/is developed so that the plot from here on out is driven by character instead of just things happening to him and him reacting. I generally have
I am trying to show the reader 2+2 instead of 4.
There are some parts that I feel are info-dumpy that I might keep in for now until I can find a place later in the story but I'd like them pointed out regardless so I can at least highlight what I need to modify/cut.
I want to know if what the potions are doing is clear, whether there's enough of the character coming through but I've found it difficult without anyone else for him to speak with.
I'll write future chapters in third person just to try things out.
Get in, get the fruit, get out. Simple enough, right? Even so, this wasn’t a somewhere any human should be. Had my ambitions as a mage gone too far?
My world brightened and my body was weightless for a moment. Then, I collapsed onto a hard, dry ground. Standing, sulfur and smoke lingered on my clothes from the ritual that brought me to this realm—the Fae Lands. I blinked my eyes to clear my vision, and grinned. For better or worse, I succeeded in the first part and entered the White Woods. An orchard in which magic grew like fruit on trees – the heart of the Fae’s magic.
Its inhabitants, and their bestial servants did not take kindly to intruders. Only, the Fae were dead, and these lands were abandoned. But with their passing, any way out of the Fae Lands had been cut off, not that they’d let anyone leave. But we have a plan. Something even the Fae may have never known. I trusted my friends. But all knowledge comes at a risk. All lessons required payment. Common sayings amongst those that studied magic and all too habitually used to justify reckless behavior.
As my vision cleared, I craned my neck up and my pride turned to awe.
Massive trunks surrounded me as they stretched into the night sky like smooth, marble-white pillars. Their foliage seamlessly blended with the stars which shed a pervasive blue glow throughout the forest. Underneath, sparse vegetation grew dark, waxy leaves that reflected the light.
I placed my hand on a root and received a cold sensation as though it were worn stone. I always expected to sense the weight of past eons here but, instead, this place seemed entirely beyond the grasp of time. Though abandoned, it wasn’t clear whether this forest was tranquil or holding its breath.
Now, the Fae fruit, within which resided raw magic. I didn’t know what it looked like but XXX said I’d know it when I see it. I pulled a water satchel out and drank deeply, relieving my mouth from the dry, still air. My bag was light for being so far from home, but I shouldn’t be here too long if things go as planned. And if they don’t, extra provisions wouldn’t save me.
I uncorked a vial filled with a metallic, heavy liquid, and drank the bitter, iron-tasting liquor. I gagged and wished XZ made these damned concoctions tolerable for once.
I stilled my breathing. My heart slowed and my eyes closed as I channeled magic into them. Hoping the potion was effective and lowered my sensitivity to the intense magic here, I cautiously opened them.
Gradually, iridescent strings brightened into view, forming winding paths that hung in the air or an interwoven network along the ground which grew dense at the base of the trees. Their trunks, rigid and smooth before, were now laced with these threads, which wound together and formed cords that ran the length of the trunks and rooted themselves in the stars above.
Under the protection of the potion, my eyes safely explored the surrounding network for a single strand that would lead me to the sapling which held the Fae fruit. It didn’t take long to find. Its irregular and frenzied rhythm made it stand out as it bumped and danced around the older, more tired threads rooted to the nearby giants as if wanting to find a partner. As if it wanted to be found.
The Fae fruit was not a spell but was magic itself. Wild and untamed. Moldable. It longed for place in the fabric of the world. Ancient rulers used them to forge spells and weapons of war or to win the affection of those they sought for matrimony. Others, to defend land for their subjects to till. An utter waste of such potential. A Fae fruit for dirt? Some, reasonably, used them to fashion flames to burn away incursions of the withering rot, a seemingly sentient mold that threatened to cover entire nations.
But I sought greater heights. Too long had magic been used to hurt or destroy. Where others would cut, I would mend. I sought to forge a new spell. One to heal the sick and wounded. At least in theory.
After all, future ages would better remember our names if they could live.
I marched on, following this thread. Occasionally, it would skip to my right or left, and I’d chase after it and leap over other roots, like a game of tag I played with XZ and XY when we were kids, at least, whenever we could pull XY’s nose out of her books.
Gradually, other strands appeared, each just as excited. Though strange, it was like I was approaching a festival. A celebration. After what felt like a quarter of a night, I saw my destination. The threads had converged at the roots of a sapling.
The sapling, if it could be called such, better resembled the trees I’d climbed as a boy, pale as it was. It was distinguished only by its size from the other arboreal titans nearby. And there, on one of its branches hung the Fae fruit.
It was still. Quiet. But when viewed by those trained in the arcane, the tree burned with energy. The threads twirled around, formed new connections, and just as easily breaking them. Occasionally, two threads would twist together, fuse, then separate having switched their dancing partners.
In the right hands, the fruit could be used to weave entirely new spells or, if one were wasteful, in the crafting of a single powerful enchanted item. But worst of all, the brewing of an especially bad tasting, though potent potion. Of course, neither I nor anyone else in their right mind would pass on any such treasures. Wars were fought over such relics in the past, though politics, pride, and occasionally honor also played their role spectacularly in such disputes.
But if left alone, would the fruit grow into a tree and root into the sky if not stolen from no one at all? Was our intention greater than that forest’s? I pushed such questions from my mind as I advanced towards the base of the tree. Towards my ambition.
It was surrounded by a deep thicket. With no way around, I cautiously stepped onto the underlying mossy carpet and traveled deeper within. As I pushed, the vegetation fought my efforts but, before snapping, abruptly relaxed and gave way. “Thank you.” I whispered, surprising even myself. Though, I supposed it never hurt to be too courteous. Even to a bush.
Behind me, the path I’d made slowly disappeared as the branches returned to their original position like I’d never been there. I looked forward and-
*crunch*
The bone-chilling sound shattered the silence of the forest. I froze. My heart quickened.
What was that? What did I step on? The vegetation closed in around me, surrounding me in blackness. The convenience of their allowing me deeper within now seemed to be the opening of a trap which now closed on me as I stood frozen. The branches surrounded me and... paused.
The next minute was an eternity in this timeless place. ‘Would I die to a bush?’ The thought lingered, ominous and absurd.
Slowly, I lifted my foot and positioned it to the side. Feeling the even ground again, I pushed forward. The branches, seemingly having forgotten my presence, once again needed convincing to let me pass through. Clear of the thicket, a sigh of relief escaped my chest as I was unsure of exactly how much danger I was in. Or what I’d stepped on.
But such thoughts vanished as my sight settled on my goal. It radiated a cold-blue light and, surprisingly, did look far more like an apple than expected.
“Huh.” I’d said, far louder than intended.
I climbed the tree and crawled out on one of its branches, using another to keep my balance. This was used to be easier. A stem connected the fruit to the branch which my instincts told me could not be cut by normal means.
Withdrawing a small knife with a white, wooden handle, provided by XXX for this occasion, the enchanted blade was passed across the stem. Frayed, iridescent threads were severed and hung in the air as they slowly dissolved. Others would find each other and fuse to survive. As more threads were cut, some swept along the blade, threatening to bind to it and alter its very nature. It might disrupt the enchantment.
My work quickened and the fruit came free in my palm. Then, for the first time, a cool breath of wind caressed my face like the forest exhaled. The air had shifted. I braced and my eyes watched the gaps in the trees as the forest turned its attention to me. More than just the White Trees were now watching. I needed to get home. Now.
I gently secured the still glowing fruit in a bag and strapped it tightly onto my back, feeling its weight on my shoulders like a ball of iron. Dust kicked up as my boots hit the ground, and I navigated back through the thicket, avoiding the place where I’d stepped on the object.
I reached for a second vial, also provided by XZ, when my eyes focused on something. It was nearly as tall as I was and covered in moss, resembling a circular stone table on its side with a single thin rectangular protrusion extending upward.
Despite the sensation of being watched, I lifted the moss to reveal a pale-white surface with distinct ridges radiating outward from a central point. A vertebrae. The moss was returned onto the enormous bone. I didn’t want to think about that right now.
‘Home. Now.’ My instincts told me.
I took a vial within which a clear liquid effortlessly danced with the light. Uncorking it, I tipped it over, ensuring only a single drop fell towards the ground. Before landing, it slowed, curved, and accelerated away from me to my right. Thank goodness. Trusting the droplet would lead me home, I chased after it.
Each droplet eventually tired and fell to the dusty ground or splattered against the side of a tree. After, I’d poured another, eyeing its slowing descent and acceleration ahead of me. As this ritual repeated, the sound of my boots hitting the hard, dusty ground echoed off the bodies of the pale giants surrounding me.
The more time I spent here, the more it felt like this place was deep underground. Like the sky above threatened to trap me here alone. I increased my rhythm of chasing the droplets as a distant hum in the air continued to grow louder.
Smiling triumphantly, I caught my breath and watched as a droplet traveled towards the base of a single, undistinguished tree, then danced upwards along its body, glowing brighter before disappearing in a flash. I’d found my way out.
“Almost there. Here goes nothing.”
I gingerly stepped onto the side of the tree. The other foot followed. Feeling my weight shift, I stood horizontal to the ground. Laughing, I look ‘up’ back towards the way from which I came and froze. That’s when I see it. A hulking figure with a wolf-like body crouched motionless and low to the ground. It was mid-step as it stared at me with pale eyes that were all too intelligent. The long hair on its head was a braided, tangled, mess from which a crown of antlers protruded. Slowly, it raised its body.
This place was supposed to be abandoned.
CLICK.
A sound like a boulder cracking reverberated through my bones, breaking the humming of the tree under my feet, and threatened my balance.
This isn’t happening.
CLICK. CLICK.
It shifted. And lunged, kicking up dust and tearing the ground as it ran. It’s hair waved wildly as it clawed the ground while the clicking grew into a frenzied rhythm that drowned the hum of the tree.
I snapped back and turned, sprinting up the tree hoping to get high enough to escape its reach. I nearly slipped as I looked back at the ground. Dread filled me as I saw the thing had immediately closed in on the base of the tree. It was far too agile for its size. It leapt and grabbed onto either side of the giant tree and heaved itself upwards, swiftly scaling the tree.
I ripped the cork from the same vial, throwing it away, and drank the rest. It burned my throat as I continued my mad ascent. Halfway up the tree, my weight shifted again, and my vision brightened. The world turned white when suddenly a searing pain arced across my back as my flesh was opened. Then I’m falling.
I feel a cool wind whip across my face as my eyes open to see familiar sunlight on green fields surrounding a lake towards which I’m rapidly falling.
Thanks for reading if you've gotten this far!

Cambria-Morning
The day for the inhabitants of the estate begins usually, when the sun is starting to become visible. However, today was not one of those of days. Little Riki, Layra and Ferra, woke up with such high, playful energy, the early morning servant staff were surprised to see the three youngsters invade the kitchen.
Bellanna trotted through the north hall of the estate with a pair of servants in tow. "We're so sorry Mistress Annabella, but those three got away from us!" one of the servants explained. She had no idea when it happened, but apparently Riki, Layra and Ferra became a threesome of trouble. It was bad enough Riki and Layra were troublemakers in their own right, but they somehow influenced Lanara's first daughter to join them.
"I wouldn't worry about them getting away from you, it's not being able to find them, that becomes an issue" Annabella replied, her long white hair was done in a braided tail. it bobbed, swayed and bounced with her movements. Knowing who she'll be helping recapture, she chose to wear breeches instead of the form fitting dress she liked wearing. Vaylin and Fangir's only son Riki has been known to be a skirt diver. Whether he picked that up from his father, or he just learned it on his own, is unknown. But little Riki knows quite a few of the women in the house, gush about him and shower him with attention and love, which seemed to make him brazen. Fangir has been seen correcting that behavior out of his son, but in the same breath, show huge amounts of affection toward Vaylin which includes both of them getting handsy with each other. Especially after what happened with Kiora and Roth being lost on two different planes of existence. Their love was almost unrepairable, but they held on. So, ever since then, the two were inseparable.
"Over there!" the other servant cried pointing two a little tail vanishing around the corner. Annabella and the two servants made their way in that direction. The trio can hear their playful giggles as they got closer. Rounding the corner, all three children squealed playfully and made a run for it. Little Riki dodged under one of the servant's skirts, causing the Tiefling woman to gasp and lock her legs, falling to her knees blushing while the three kids got away.
Lashara, Slithera, and Fangir's two sisters were in the playroom watching Baby's Astra, Wicca, Nissa, Nessa and Samus crawl around while giggling wildly. However, the noise of the three energetic toddlers, got them to smirk. "They're at it again" Kaila commented while picking up Samus who crawled to her.
Lashara chuckled, Tyrande was still a little too young and hadn't figured out crawling yet, so she was in a sling napping against her chest.
"I so want a baby now!" Kaila spoke up suddenly, after putting Samus back down to resume crawling. Hannah chuckled but shared the sentiment. "What about you Slithera? Have you thought of having a baby?" Hannah added looking to the Gorgon woman who became one of her good friends.
Slithera blushed but smiled at the thought of having a baby. "Not really. With all that has been going on over the years, I haven't really had time to even think about becoming romantic with anyone, let alone have a one nighter with someone" she shrugged as she picked up baby Nissa. The baby Tiefling giggled and toyed with Slithera's coiling, slithering, long scales while giggling wildly.
Inara and Vlaad entered the playroom, which resulted in all the babies smiling big. It was Wicca and Astra who apparently got overly excited while giggling, their little hands grasping, when both of them let off little flashes and pops from their hands. This startled them, which caused them to do it again, which then resulted in both baby girls begin to cry. Which ended up becoming a domino effect for the other babies including the once sleeping Tyrande. It was a huge, loud chorus of crying that can be heard all over the estate.
Vlaad and Inara both couldn't help but wince at the noise while they comforted Nissa and Nessa. The other three as well as a couple of servants who were in the playroom, successfully calmed the babies down, just as Vaylin and Fangir entered the room and took Astra and Wicca into their arms, comforting them further.
"It's not just Kiora and Roth who have powers, Wicca and Astra also have them" Inara spoke up, nuzzling Nissa, while Vlaad did the same with Nessa.
"Really? So soon? extraordinary!" Vaylin commented while nuzzling one of her twins, causing her to burst out in giggles. Sure enough, Astra giggled so much, her little hands emitted the same little spark, which startled her again, but Vaylin kissed her and soothed her before she can start crying.
Out in the back gardens, twin siblings Burai, Kou, Vaylin and Varina, oversaw Kiora and Roth, their cousins, sparring. They were impressed with how quickly the pair of nine-year-olds picked up the training when they turned eight. It also occurred to them how alarmingly similar the two girls were to their adopted sister Vaylin. They even looked like smaller versions of their mother, even with the subtle Elvish differences from Fangir.
Kiora and Roth continued to train using their wooden swords. The clacking revealed patterns and even beats as if they were musical instruments. Both girls were identical in fighting styles for the most part. They would charge, spin in place, their swords clacking together, then proceed to strike, block, strike, block and strike again. They never really witness their mother fight, but they somehow knew how she moved. It helped, Vaylin would spar with them whenever their baby siblings were asleep or looked after by the other adults in the estate. Then the girls used their sound attack, when they clacked their wooden swords together. The force pushed the girls back and away from each other a few feet. The two pairs of siblings gawked in shock at the display of sound magic. Then their resumed sparring until both girls stumbled back from each other, breathing heavily and visibly tired.
"Well, it seems they have greater control over their magic output. From What Kiora has explained, she was taught how to harness and concentrate her magics and powers" Varina spoke up and handed her two exhausted cousins water skins. "That will be enough for the day" Varina said softly as her twin sister Vaylin helped them up.
The trio of troublemakers finally started getting picked off. Little Ferra was the first. She didn't see her mother hiding above her until she swooped down gracefully, plucked her up and glided away onto the nearest set of stairs. She giggled wildly from it. Next was little Layra, her mother snuck up on her from another hallway and snatched her up, tickling her, she giggled wildly as well.
Little Riki finally noticed his sister and cousin weren't with him. The funny thing about Riki being one of the three major troublemakers, he was also a scaredy cat. If he found himself separated and alone, he would begin to fuss and even cry. Which he started to do now. He heard footsteps approaching him and looked through teary eyes and saw his father. "Poppa!" he cried while Fangir picked up his son and soothed him.
Vaylin watched from afar and smiled lovingly at the man she loved dearly. She still feels guilty for almost ruining what they had due to fear. She then approached them, kissed her son, then Fangir. Their children calming down now, they joined the rest of the family.
The babies were being passed around; laughter was in abundance. Chit chatter was equally abundant. Fangir bonded with his son, as did Tommen with his. Little Layra and Ferra both made a mess of their food, causing them to erupt in wild giggles. The servants were highly amused and aided the parents by cleaning their little faces with wash cloths.
Annabella just got Astra in her arms when the distinct sound of a wet poot happened, the sudden shock on the baby's face came then the very familiar scent and Astra beginning to wail. "Uh oh, someone needs changing!" Annabella chuckled but held a hand over her nose. Wicca, who was just being passed to Slithera from Lashara, did the same. "Wow! Even you?!" she chuckled and comforted the soiled child while holding her nose as well.
Vaylin guffawed and with the aid of Fangir, they took their crying babies upstairs to be cleaned up, while Layra and Riki remained at their seats amusing themselves again. After a few minutes, Inara herself noticed Vaylin and Fangir were taking a little longer than needed to change their children. When they returned, with both babies in their arms, she noted the highly satisfied grin on Vaylin's face.
"Do I need to spray you two with water next time?!" Inara asked chuckling. Fangir and Vaylin blushed brightly, knew they were caught, and skillfully distracted everyone by passing Wicca and Astra to them again.
"You didn't, you know, in front of them, did you?!" Lanara came over to Vaylin and whispered into her ear. Vaylin shook her head "No" and resumed their lunch.
Fangir and Vaylin just put Wicca and Astra down for their naps, when Vaylin's hands started caressing his sides and hips. The obvious, predatorial smirk on her face as he returned her energy, and they started kissing again. Her arms around his neck, her tail wrapping around his waist, they were hungry for each other again, but were interrupted with an amused, clearing of the throat, catching their attention.
Inara stood there, left brow arched, an amused smirk on her face, her hands covering Riki and Layra's eyes. "I swear, I definitely need to carry cold water with me everywhere now. Do I need to have Slithera take you to another plane, then go back for you after a while?" she asked rolling her eyes.
Fangir chuckled, letting go of Vaylin and checking on their two youngest who were sound asleep, while Vaylin patted her son's and daughter's hair after Inara took her hands away from their eyes. "I'm sorry Momma, but I still feel incredible guilt over what I did to Fangir. I can't help but show him how much I love him" she replied with a smile looking back at him. Fangir chuckle and kissed Vaylin's cheek and the three guided the two toddlers out of the room.
"I've already forgiven her too. But even I feel guilty for how our union almost ended. I was in such a dark place, I was willing to kill that woman after finding out what her plans were and even if she told me there was no way to undo what happened, I would have killed her anyway. Then I was greatly heartbroken from Vaylin's words, spoken from a place of intense fear, that I actually got my things out of our room and packed up because I had plans of traveling to find a portal spell to search for our daughters" Fangir explained as Vaylin nuzzled his neck, rewrapping her arms and tail around him.
Inara chuckled and caressed her adopted daughter's face and Fangir's with a caring smile. "I am glad you two rekindled your love. I'm also glad you didn't kill that woman. I admit, I wanted to as well, I was so scared for my grandbabies. But that has passed now. You two are stronger than ever. Try to space your alone time out though and contain yourselves around your children" she replied and left with Riki and Layra to put them down for their naps, giving them a hint they are now free for now.
Back in their room, Fangir sat naked on their bed, watching Vaylin strip out of her casual dress. He watched her and found himself, not only still very much in love with her, but also still highly impressed by her. When she approached, he caressed her sides, her belly, her soft, heavy breasts. He traced the scars on her body, on her bust, her arms, hips. Each caress got her to sigh to him. Her tail slowly swaying. He loved everything about her. They both gained some weight over the years from having six children, but they remained fit. She straddled him and they started to kiss deeply, taking their time with each other.
"My love. I forgive you. Always have. Marry me again" he whispered, and she smiled, tears flowing down her cheeks as she kissed him. "Yes. I belong to you. You belong to me" she whispered back, and they made love uninterrupted.
Inara and Vlaad just put down Riki and Layra, as well as Nissa and Nessa. Holding each other's hand, they slow danced to no music, just to themselves.
Lanara and Tommen just put their two children down for their naps and it must have been in the air, because they quietly retreated to their rooms, stripped and made love as well.
The two sets of teenagers, along with Lilianna, Kiora and Roth, Annabella, Slithera, Hannah, Kaila and Lashara with a napping Tyrande in her sling, decided to go into town.
"What do you think sister? Will Momma bless us with another child or two?" Roth spoke up with an amused smile on her face. Kiora chuckled, as did Lilianna and Slithera. "Did you see how our lovely parents act with each other? Especially after we returned from lost on different planes. They can't keep their hands off each other, so it's a good bet, we may have another sibling or two in the future" Kiora replied with a chuckle.
The group wandered the shops and carts. Tyrande awoke at some point, became fussy with hunger, Lashara adjusted the top of her dress to feed her.
At some point, the group was on their way back home, when Roth spotted movement in the shadows of the woods. Curious, she made her way over to see, catching the others by surprise.
"Roth? What do you think you're doing?!" Lashara spoke up first, her mother voice coming out, a look of concern on her face. Though Kiora and Roth were not her children, their father was the father of Tyrande, while she tried not overstepping any boundaries or lines, she felt she must treat these two as if they were her own.
"I saw something Aunty Lashara, I was curious" Roth replied still heading in the direction of the movement she saw. Lashara gulped, she then looked to Slithera who nodded and went after her. The group as a whole, chose to follow Slithera's lead anyway, who followed Roth.
"Sister, what did you see?" Kiora whispered as they entered the bush and exited, now entering the woods. It was Varina who spoke up next.
"Roth, you do realize that none of us are armed right?" Varina whispered as well. To her mild annoyance, her little cousin ignored her as well. Eventually the group came upon what Roth was curious about.
"Oh no!" Hannah whispered, her hands covering her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. The group came upon a dead Owlbear, freshly killed and around the animal was three cubs. All sitting, nuzzling their mother's paw. One of the cubs, a brown with black spots decorating its hide and front arms, turned to see them and instead of becoming fearful, the little animal made a mournful sound.
Kiora and Roth both let out little sad sighs, visibly on the verge of tears when they just approached the little trio. Oddly, all three went over to them as well when the other two finally noticed them. The two girls hugged them while Slithera approached and placed a hand on the larger animal.
"She's gone. I can't bring her back. If she were still alive, I could have healed her" Slithera spoke up sadly and gently closed the former mother's eyes. The group then became aware of a pair of rough sounding, male voices approaching.
"I told you she came this way. The poison she ate wasn't enough" one male voice spoke up. The pair of human men finally appeared, they were hunters, both dressed in boiled leather and had armor bits. Both also had long swords in scabbards on their backs. They stopped when they saw the group of women and children. Two of the children were holding the cubs.
"Well, well, besides getting 50 gold pieces for the cubs, I think we can get even more for a Drow, a few Tieflings from the looks of them, some kind of Elf I've never seen before, oh and a few are children as well" the taller of the pair spoke up, causing the darker skinned Elf to clutch her sleeping baby closer to her.
"So, you're the monsters who took these cubs mother from them. Cowards. Especially if I heard you right that you used poison" Slithera spoke up, her long scales coiling in agitation, her briefly shining.
Burai and Kou both stepped forward and got into side view fighting stances that mirrored each other. One fist clenched, one hand open and flat in a "Stop" position. "I can tell you now, you won't be alive much longer, if you don't simply turn around and go" Kou spoke up staring right at them. Vaylin and Varina also stepped forward and mirrored their brothers except both girls had one palm open and facing down, the other open and facing up.
The pair of hunters simply smirked and unsheathed their swords and began to approach when they both grunted, pausing in their tracks and before the curious siblings' eyes, turned to stone.
"Enough of that. Let's go home" Slithera spoke up. She placed a hand on the dead Owlbear, whispered some final words to her and reluctantly let nature take its course.
Inara, Vlaad, Lanara, Tommen, Vaylin and Fangir were in the dining room chit chatting when they heard the estate doors open and the voices of their loved one's float to them. But then they heard three new sounds, little squarks and coos from three animals.
"Momma! Look what we rescued!" Kiora called to her mother. A look of dread showed on Vaylin's face as the children and adults that accompanied them came into the dining room.
Inara let out a startled noise, her eyes getting big. Vlaad closed his eyes and sighed, as did Fangir and Tommen. Lanara was just simply shocked into silence.
"Girls, what did you do?!" Vaylin spoke up finally and stood up from her husband's lap approaching slowly. The three cubs watched her curiously and when Kiora and Roth whispered to both of them, the three cubs seemed to cheer up and trotted over to her.
"We couldn't just leave them there, momma. Their own momma was dead, poisoned by a pair of hunters. They wanted to take us as well to sell us, but Aunty Slithera stopped them" Kiora explained as her mother couldn't help but give the three cubs reassuring pats. Fangir approached as well, his hand glowing green, the cubs accepted him as well.
"You two realize looking after them is a huge undertaking, right?" Vaylin said to her two eldest daughters. "That includes exercise, food, where they sleep, so on" she added.
"We understand Momma, they can sleep in our room!" Roth spoke up with a huge smile, which got a startled reaction from Inara herself. Vlaad just face palmed but was highly amused. The two girls then took the cubs out into the bag gardens to show them around.
Slithera and Lashara approached once the girls were out of earshot. "Roth is more like you, I think. She saw movement and went to see" Slithera explained with a chuckle.
"These hunters, did they see you?" Vaylin asked, a serious tone to her voice while she watched her eldest girls go out back. Slithera explained everything including the part where the hunters were no long a threat since she turned them to stone. Vaylin nodded, then smiled at Tyrande and took her from Lashara, nuzzling her, causing her to giggle and squeal.
"Ahh, the chaos of children" Inara spoke up causing laughter to erupt all around. The day went on and ended with the newest members of the family settling down in Kiora and Roth's room in little beds of their own. The servants were now aware of the Owlbear cubs and accepted this new reality, as did the entire family.

How do I remove the "I's" in this first person POV while retaining the idea that the protagonist is active? Can you provde an example of what you mean if you address this question? Should I switch to third-person limited?
Get in, get the fruit, get out. Simple enough, right? Well, our plan was more advanced than that. Even so, I worried.
My world brightened and I my body was weightless for a moment and then collapsed onto a hard, dry ground. Standing, sulfur and smoke lingered on my clothes from the ritual that brought me to this realm—the Fae Lands. For better or worse, I succeeded in the first part and entered the heart of the Fae’s magic, the White Woods. An orchard in which magic grew like fruit on trees.
Its inhabitants, and their bestial servants did not take kindly to intruders. Only, the Fae were dead, and these lands were abandoned. But with their passing, any way out of the Fae Lands had been cut off, not that they’d let anyone leave. But we have a plan. Something even the Fae may have never known. I trusted my friends. Even so, all knowledge comes at a risk. All lessons required payment. Common sayings amongst those that studied magic and all too habitually used to justify reckless behavior.
I blinked my eyes to regain my vision and looked up and saw the trees. Their massive trunks surrounded me as they stretched into the night sky like smooth, marble-white pillars. Their foliage seamlessly blended with the stars which shed a pervasive blue glow throughout the forest. Underneath, sparse vegetation grew dark, waxy leaves that reflected the light.
I reached out and felt a root and received a cold sensation in return as though it were worn stone. I expected to sense the weight of past eons here but, instead, this place seemed entirely beyond the grasp of time. Though abandoned, I couldn’t say whether this forest was tranquil or holding its breath.
My mind turned to the second part: get the fruit. Nothing like an apple. A Fae fruit, within which resided raw magic. Reaching into my bag I pulled out a water satchel and drank deeply, relieving my mouth from the dry, still air. There wasn’t much, but it’s not like I’d be here very long and if things went awry, well, extra provisions would not prevent the inevitable.
I uncorked a vial filled with a metallic, heavy liquid, drank it, and gagged, wishing XXZ made these damned potions taste tolerable for once. I stilled my breathing and closed my eyes, channeling magic into them.
After a moment, I opened them.
Gradually, iridescent strings came into view, forming winding paths through the air or a tangled, knotted network that hung just above the ground which grew dense at the base of the trees. Their trunks, rigid and smooth before, were now interwoven with these threads, which wound together and formed cords that ran the length of the trunks and rooted themselves in the stars above.
It was through this tangled mess [that?] I searched for a single strand that would lead me to the Fae fruit. Fae fruit was not a spell but was magic itself. Wild. Untamed.
Moldable. It longed for place in the fabric of the world.
It didn’t take long to find. Its irregular and frenzied rhythm made it stand out. Though thin, it bumped into and danced around the older, more tired threads bound to the elder trees as if wanting to find a partner. As if it wanted to be found. As if it wanted to be found by me.
As I followed this thread other strands gradually appeared, each just as excited and all led to the same place. Though I couldn’t quite place the sensation, it felt as though I was slowly approaching a festival. A celebration. I walked for what felt like a quarter of a night until I saw it my quarry. A sapling on which grew the Fae fruit.
It was closer in size to the trees I climbed as a boy, distinguished only by its size and red leaves from its neighbors. Still. Quiet.
But when viewed by those trained in the arcane, the tree burned with energy. My gaze traced the threads leading to its roots which twirled around the older, more tired threads, just as excited to form new connections as to break them. Occasionally, two threads would twist together, fuse then separate having switched their dancing partners.
In the right hands, it could be used to weave entirely new spells or, if one were wasteful, in the making of a single enchanted item or, worst of all, an especially bad tasting potion. Of course, neither I nor anyone else in their right mind would pass on any such treasures. Wars were fought over such relics in the past, though politics also played their role spectacularly in such ‘disputes’.
But if left alone, if not stolen from no one at all, would the fruit grow into a tree and root into the sky?
The tree was surrounded by a deep thicket. With no way around, I cautiously stepped onto the underlying mossy carpet and traveled deeper within. As I pushed forward the vegetation fought my efforts but, before snapping, abruptly relaxed and gave way. “Thank you.” I whispered, surprising even myself. Though, I supposed it never hurt to be too courteous. Even to a shrub.
Behind me, the path I’d made slowly disappeared as the branches returned to their original position like I’d never been there. I looked forward and-
*crunch*.
The bone-chilling sound shattered the silence of the forest. I froze. My heart quickened. What had I stepped on?
A hundred questions entered my mind as the vegetation closed in around me, surrounding me in blackness. The convenience of their allowing me deeper into the center now seemed to be the opening of a trap which now closed on me as I stood frozen. The branches surrounded me and... paused.
I stood still for what felt like an eternity but was probably only a moment in this timeless place. ‘Would I die to a bush?’ The thought lingered, ominous and absurd.
Slowly, I lifted my foot and placed it down to the side. Feeling the even ground again, I pushed forwards. The branches had seemingly forgotten my being there and once again needed convincing to let me pass. Clear of the thicket, a sigh of relief escaped my chest as I was unsure of exactly how much danger I was in.
I could now clearly see the fruit. It radiated a cold-blue light and, surprisingly, did look far more like an apple than expected.
“Huh.” I’d said, far louder than intended.
I climbed the tree and crawled out on one of its branches, recalling this was easier when I’d been younger. A stem connected the fruit to the branch which my instincts told me could not be cut by normal means.
I withdrew a small blade, provided by XXX for this occasion, and passed its enchanted blade across the stem. As I cut, frayed iridescent threads hung in the air and slowly dissolved while others fused to survive. As more threads broke, some brushed against the enchanted knife, binding to it and threatening to alter its very nature.
My work quickened and the fruit was severed when, for the first time, a cool breath of wind caressed my face like the forest exhaled. The air had shifted. I stiffened and my eyes watched the gaps in the trees as the forest turned its attention to me. I sensed that more than just trees now watched. I needed to get home. Now.
I gently placed the still glowing fruit in a bag and secured it on my back, jumped to the ground, and navigated back through the thicket, thanking them once again. I reached for a second vial when my eyes focused on something. It was nearly as tall as I am and covered in moss, resembling a circular stone table on its side with a single thin protrusion extending upward.
Despite the nagging urgency, I gently removed the moss to reveal a pale-white surface with distinct ridges radiating outward from a central point. A vertebrae. The moss was returned onto the enormous bone. I didn’t want to think about that right now.
Hurriedly, I took the vial out within which a clear liquid effortlessly danced with the light. Uncorking it, I tipped it over, ensuring only a single drop fell towards the ground. Before landing, it slowed, curved, and accelerated away from me to my right. I exhaled, thankful that it seemed to be working. Trusting the droplet would lead me home, I ran after it.
Each droplet eventually tired and fell. After reaching its resting place, I’d poured another, eyeing its slowing descent and acceleration ahead of me. As this ritual repeated my boots hitting the hard, dusty ground was the only detectable sound, seemingly made louder as it echoed of the bodies of the pale giants surrounding me.
I increased my pace and returned to the rhythm of chasing the droplets until a distant hum filled the air which only grew louder as I continued.
Smiling triumphantly, I caught my breath and watched as the droplets traveled towards the base of a single, undistinguished tree, then dance upwards along its body, glowing bright yellow as they ascended before disappearing in a bright flash. The way out was ahead of me.
“Almost there. Here goes nothing.”
I place a foot onto the side of the tree. Then the other. Feeling my weight shift, I stood horizontal to the ground. Laughing, I look ‘up’ back towards the way from which I came and freeze. That’s when I see it. A hulking figure with a wolf-like head crouched motionless and low to the ground. It was midstep as it stared at me with wide forward-facing eyes that were all too intelligent. The long hair on its head was a braided, tangled, mess from which a crown of antlers protruded. Slowly, it raises its body.
This isn’t happening.
CLICK.
A sound like a boulder cracking reverberated through my bones, breaking the humming of the tree under my feet and threatening my balance.
This place was supposed to be abandoned.
CLICK-CLICK.
It shifted. And lunged, kicking up dust and tearing the ground as it ran. It’s hair waved wildly as it clawed the ground while the clicking grew into a frenzied rhythm that drowned the hum of the tree.
I snapped back into my mind and turned, sprinting up the tree hoping to get high enough to escape its reach. I nearly slip as I looked back at the ground. Dread filled me as I saw the thing had immediately closed in on the base of the tree. It was far too agile for its size. It leapt and grabbed onto either side of the giant tree and heaved itself upwards, swiftly scaling the tree.
Panic seized me and I grabbed the same vial, drank the rest and felt it burn my throat as I continued my mad ascent. Halfway up the tree, my weight shifted again and my vision brightens. The world turns white when suddenly a searing pain arcs across my back as a claw rips into my flesh. Then I’m falling.
I feel cool wind whip across my face as my eyes open to see familiar sunlight on green fields surrounding a lake towards which I’m rapidly falling.
Thanks for reading if you got this far!

The relationship between Yennefer and Triss in the books is quite complicated. With the intervention of the game, it can even be said to be distorted.
I will analyze it slowly and one by one.
1 Friends
First, let's look at how Triss and Yennefer used to be friends.
In Yennefer's fateful first encounter with Geralt, we also indirectly met another sorceress, Triss Merigold.
Because Yennefer always talked about her.
"My friend Triss Merigold said, 'When you meet one man, you've met all men.'
Wanted to share funny things with Triss. "Triss would definitely laugh out loud if she heard this joke."
So, we know that Yennefer has a close friend named Triss.
However, when Triss first truly appears, we see a silly girl who is unrequitedly in love with Geralt.
Because Triss is jealous of the tumultuous relationship between Geralt and Yennefer, she wants to share their joys and sorrows together and experience them for herself.
What's this? Huh? Huh? Huh?
Seriously speaking, jealousy is a universal theme in all close relationships. It's hard to say whether Triss was initially jealous of Geralt for stealing her best friend Yennefer, or Yennefer for having Geralt, or both.
Besides jealousy, what excited Triss more was the pain that Geralt felt because of his love for Yennefer.
Guilt, anxiety, and pain.
Why was Triss fascinated by such negative emotions?
Perhaps for the long-lived, powerful, and beautiful sorceresses, sex is readily available. But deeper bonds based on love are rare and precious.
For them, this is a brand-new and valuable life experience.
It can be said that what fascinated the sorceresses was not necessarily Geralt himself, but the concept of "love" which they had never seen and often scoffed at.
Triss just didn't expect that once she experienced it, she would become addicted to it forever.
It's probably the same feeling as when we get addicted to playing games.
Standing alone in the empty Kaer Morhen after the story ends, that kind of hurt, who can understand?
Triss was in pain, leaving Geralt and never being able to have him again, probably feels the same way as we do in empty Kaer Morhen.
This life, it's really fucking empty, lonely, and cold.
She knew that her unrequited love had caused Geralt trouble. Because he couldn't reciprocate with the same feelings, it put a heavy burden on his conscience.
Maybe she could post a question on social media: "I'm in love with my best friend's man, but he doesn't love me. What should I do?" Waiting online, quite urgent.
It might become a trending topic. Haha.
I think there may be comments like "Why doesn't my girlfriend have such a good best friend?" under that question.
But Geralt is not like them. He won't be complacent about the passionate pursuit of sorceresses, thinking, "Ah, it's all because of my damn charm!"
Geralt only feels guilty because he cannot reciprocate with the same feelings.
Let's take a look at this scene.
When Triss was invited to Kaer Morhen to train Ciri, she saw Geralt again after a long time. Unable to control herself, she created and seized the opportunity to forcefully hug Geralt in the stable.
He just gently pushed her away. "Don't do that, Triss."
At night, as Triss tossed and turned in bed, reliving and reflecting on that scene, she painfully realized that her pursuit was truly a burden for Geralt.
Even the young Ciri could sense the awkwardness between them.
She asked Triss to forget about Geralt and stop tormenting him.
Triss agreed.
Even though she loves Geralt hopelessly, even though she is jealous of their love, and even though she may no longer be the perfect best friend, Triss is still a brave and sincere person in this moment.
She confronted Geralt and told him that all his problems stem from his inability to admit his feelings.
In the end, it's torturing him, Yennefer, and those innocent bystanders like her(or maybe not completely innocent, huh?) who are caught in the middle.
Triss has contributed and made achievements in reuniting Geralt and Yennefer.
Yennefer also treats Triss differently.
If Triss had tried to steal anyone else, even Istredd who proposed to Yennefer, Yennefer might not have cared.
Best friends, of course, share happiness and men together. Men are like flowing water, but the bond with a best friend is more valuable.
But Geralt is an exception.
Sorceresses mocked Yennefer's intense possessiveness over Geralt, calling it absurd.
It shows that they usually don't care about such things.
However, we all know that for Yennefer, Geralt is the only one she loves.
He cannot be shared with anyone.
Take the lovable Sabrina, for example.
Just for trying to seduce Geralt under Yennefer's nose, Yennefer scolded her severely in front of Philippa.
But Triss's treatment from Yennefer is very different.
Even though she blatantly stole Geralt away, even though she did indeed use magic to seduce Geralt into bed, Yennefer still brought Geralt over to greet her and whisper in her ear.
Does she not care?
No, it's impossible. It's Geralt, not just a lover, but her beloved.
She did indeed show off her love for Geralt in front of Triss, declaring her ownership. But, would she unleash her anger on Triss? Would she sever their friendship and scold her because of jealousy and resentment?
The following scene is very interesting.
After showing off her love, Yennefer sent Geralt away and spoke privately with Triss.
Like all men who cheat on their partners, Geralt was nervously watching the confrontation between the two women.
He was worried about Triss, afraid that she would be bullied by Yennefer.
Oh, isn't this a common concern for all men who have had affairs?
He summoned his courage and ran over to confront Yennefer.
And then was Yennefer's response to him. "I know what you've done. But I've known Triss longer than you. We get along well, and we've always understood each other, even though we occasionally have... minor disagreements. In my opinion, she's just a bit caught up in her feelings, but I've helped her sort it out. Let's just leave it at that."
With Sabina, Yennefer was relentless and abusive.
But with Triss, Yennefer was almost like a big sister and a caring mentor. She knew what was troubling Triss's heart and what she wanted.
She didn't just forgive Triss; she understood her and comforted her.
All her anger was directed towards Geralt.
It almost seemed like, "My best friend made a small mistake? Yes. But you, this jerk, made a bigger one."
Seeing that the situation was favorable, Geralt quickly took the opportunity to drop the matter and move on.
Yennefer asked for a kiss and was content. The matter was settled.
So, Geralt didn't cause a rift between the two friends.
2、Rift
What ultimately led to the divergence was the irreconcilable political positions between Yennefer and Triss.
Yennefer was indifferent to the sorceresses' gathering and political disputes. While she might have maneuvered palace politics skillfully, she never had a passion for it.
What mattered to her was always the people she loved.
But Triss was different. She was not only loyal to her friends, but also to the sorceresses' gathering. She had many idealistic and passionate political aspirations.
However, as we adults know, trying to balance multiple loyalties can be idealistic and dreamy.
When she was teaching Ciri at Kaer Morhen, Geralt warned her, "Double loyalty can cause many problems. Few people can truly achieve it."
In the end, it was proven that Geralt's warning was correct.
When the interests of the Lodge clashed with those of her friends, Triss ultimately had to make a choice.
She chose the Lodge.
To save Ciri, Yennefer chose a method that was almost certain to lead to her death. Before setting out, considering the possibility that she might not return alive, she contacted Triss.
However, Triss refused to clear Yennefer's name.
She refused to save Geralt.
This is the real divergence between best friends, not because of a man—though a man was indeed part of the reason. It's just that, contrary to what we often think, the reason was beyond a man.
This divergence led to Yennefer no longer being as kind and gentle with Triss as she once was.
She no longer saw her as a close friend and confidante. Instead, she treated Triss the same way she had treated Sabina before, taking into account both past and present grievances.
On their way to Rivia, the two had a major falling-out, showcasing a fierce argument.
However, fate did not give them much time to settle their old scores.
A greater crisis was looming.
3. Reunion
However, fate did not grant them much time to settle their old scores.
A riot broke out in Rivia, and Geralt's life was hanging by a thread.
The two sorceresses had to enter the city, where riots and unrest were occurring everywhere, to find Geralt.
Once again, the two former best friends stood together, facing a common life-and-death situation.
After the events of Sodden, the fear of death loomed over them once again.
Please note this statement: "In the final moments of life, no one can overcome their own cowardice."
Therefore, do not blame anyone for their weakness or evasion.
Initially, it was Triss who wanted to drag Yennefer away due to fear, but Yennefer angrily refused.
After sustaining serious injuries, the fear of death triggered memories of Yennefer's teenage suicide attempt, and she wanted to retreat.
It was Triss, after being scolded, who returned to her side, standing with her to face the tumultuous mob and the threat of death.
Let's recap.
Between the Lodge and Geralt, Triss chose the former, betraying Geralt's friendship.
Between fleeing alone and facing death together with Yennefer, Triss chose the latter.
What does this show? It shows that what she had previously thought, "For her, Yennefer is more important than Geralt," was actually true!
At the end of the book, Yennefer and Triss complement each other, completing each other's redemption.
This is Triss's redemption arc, completed by Yennefer. She helps Triss overcome the psychological shadow left by the Battle of Sodden.
This is also the redemption arc of friendship, completed by Triss. She returned to Yennefer's side in a life-and-death situation, telling her that they would face death together.
Once close friends, done wrong things due to jealousy and had diverged due to different positions. But ultimately, at a critical moment, they supported each other and reunited.
Originally, according to the typical tone of the Witcher novels, the ending of this story would have been that Geralt died at the other end of the city from a peasant's pitchfork, while the two sorceresses perished here at the hands of an angry mob.
That would have been too dark and brutal.
Readers would have thrown the book in anger, "What the hell?"
So the author pulled back a bit and introduced a very darkly humorous deus ex machina: Triss, due to fear, mispronounced her spell, ultimately accidentally summoning a citywide hailstorm.
Because she misspoke under fear, Triss herself didn't know what she said, so this spell became the only one in history that was unprecedented and could not be repeated.
Regardless, we know that in the final moments of life and death, Triss did not flee alone. She chose to die together with her close friend.
This is the complex relationship between Yennefer and Triss in the book — from best friends to a rift, and ultimately to unity.
4、distortion
The distortion in the game has to be mentioned.
Why is it distorted?
According to the game's portrayal, Triss seems to have amnesia, completely forgetting what she had said and done: that Yennefer was more important than Geralt.
Throughout The Witcher 3, Triss and Yennefer are like strangers, without any direct interaction.
The only interaction they have is the awkward love triangle scene after Geralt brings Ciri back.
If you only play the game, you won't be able to discover the profound connection that Triss and Yennefer once had.
It can be said that the game completely abandoned showing the relationship between Triss and Yennefer, and simply summarized them as abstract "love rivals," two incompatible romantic options.
From the perspective of gameplay, it is successful.
But from the perspective of character logic, it is a failure, disjointed and distorted, filled with clumsy design sense.
To create this kind of opposition between options, the game made drastic changes, almost reshaping Triss's character.
It turned a flesh-and-blood, proud, and independent sorceress who belonged to no man into a plastic rose that perfectly satisfies male romantic fantasies.
Think about what the game did to Triss's hair.
In the original novels, Triss sports a distinctive, beautiful, and messy red hair.
In the game, Triss has two sweet, cute, girl-like...bunches.
You might think this is just a hairstyle?
No, it's not just about the hairstyle.
This is definitely a deliberate and symbolic change made by CDPR.
Because hair, especially unconstrained messy hair, is a symbol of a sorceress's independence and freedom.
This is exactly what Triss proudly showed Ciri when they first met. 'Only Druids and sorceresses—and prostitutes—let their hair stay natural to emphasize their independence and freedom.'"
I've considered whether Triss tied up her hair to keep a low profile, but no, that's not it. Because while CDPR changed her hairstyle, they also dressed her in a low-cut revealing outfit (completely disregarding Triss's character of wearing high-neck clothes after her injury), which makes it impossible for her to remain inconspicuous.
And when Yennefer arrived in Novigrad, she used a hood to cover her long hair. Triss could have done the same. But no, CDPR insisted on giving her a cute bun hairstyle.
All the sorceresses who appear in the game, except for the blind Phillipa (who wears a rough braid), have either loose hair or short hair.
Only Triss stands out with a different style, as stated in her character description: "She is completely different from her sorceress sisters."
She is sweeter, cuter, gentler, and more delicate.
More popular. More easily disciplined.
— The original Triss would definitely want to snap someone for these words: "Who are you insulting, asshole? Who wants to be the Witcher's sweetheart? Who wants to be a damsel in distress waiting for rescue?"
However, this is precisely the type of female character the game wanted to portray, one that contrasts with the proud, independent, and free-spirited sorceress archetype.
Nevertheless, speaking of which, this is indeed a very successful game strategy.
Very, very successful.
Therefore, in the game, the relationship between Triss and Yennefer is distorted into: conceptualized rivals and, in reality, strangers.

Looking for clarity and whether you think certain information felt important to you in the moment. Some tidbits were added in because I would further expand on later chapters.
Get in, get the fruit, get out. Simple enough, right? Well, our plan was more advanced than that. Even so, I worried.
My world brightened and I my body was weightless for a moment and then collapsed onto a hard, dry ground. Standing, sulfur and smoke lingered on my clothes from the ritual that brought me to this realm—the Fae Lands. For better or worse, I succeeded in the first part and entered the heart of the Fae’s magic, the White Woods. An orchard in which magic grew like fruit on trees.
Its inhabitants, and their bestial servants did not take kindly to intruders. Only, the Fae were dead, and these lands were abandoned. But with their passing, any way out of the Fae Lands had been cut off, not that they’d let leave. But we have a plan. A way out. Something even the Fae may have never known. I trusted my group. My friends. Even so, all knowledge comes at a risk. All lessons required payment. Common sayings amongst those that studied magic and all too habitually used to justify reckless behavior.
I blinked my eyes to regain my vision and looked up and saw the trees. Their massive trunks surrounded me as they stretched into the night sky like smooth, marble-white pillars. Their foliage seamlessly blended with the stars which shed a pervasive blue glow throughout the forest. Underneath, sparse vegetation grew dark, waxy leaves that reflected the light.
I reached out and felt a root and received a cold sensation in return as though it were worn stone. I expected to sense the weight of past eons here but, instead, this place seemed entirely beyond the grasp of time. Though abandoned, I couldn’t say whether this forest was tranquil or holding its breath.
My mind turned to the second part: get the fruit. Nothing like an apple. A Fae fruit, within which resided raw magic. Reaching into my bag I pulled out a water satchel and drank deeply, relieving my mouth from the dry, still air. There wasn’t much, but it’s not like I’d be here very long and if things went awry, well, extra provisions would not prevent the inevitable.
I uncorked a vial filled with a metallic, heavy liquid, drank it, and gagged, wishing XXZ made these damned potions taste tolerable for once. I stilled my breathing and closed my eyes, channeling magic into them.
After a moment, I opened them.
Gradually, iridescent strings came into view, forming winding paths through the air or a tangled, knotted network that hung just above the ground which grew dense at the base of the trees. Their trunks, rigid and smooth before, were now interwoven with these threads, which wound together and formed cords that ran the length of the trunks and rooted themselves in the stars above.
It was through this tangled mess [that?] I searched for a single strand that would lead me to the Fae fruit. Fae fruit was not a spell but was magic itself. Wild. Untamed.
Moldable. It longed for place in the fabric of the world.
It didn’t take long to find. Its irregular and frenzied rhythm made it stand out. Though thin, it bumped into and danced around the older, more tired threads bound to the elder trees as if wanting to find a partner. As if it wanted to be found. As if it wanted to be found by me.
As I followed this thread other strands gradually appeared, each just as excited and all led to the same place. Though I couldn’t quite place the sensation, it felt as though I was slowly approaching a festival. A celebration. I walked for what felt like a quarter of a night until I saw it my quarry. A sapling on which grew the Fae fruit.
It was closer in size to the trees I climbed as a boy, distinguished only by its size and red leaves from its neighbors. Still. Quiet.
But when viewed by those trained in the arcane, the tree burned with energy. My gaze traced the threads leading to its roots which twirled around the older, more tired threads, just as excited to form new connections as to break them. Occasionally, two threads would twist together, fuse then separate having switched their dancing partners.
In the right hands, it could be used to weave entirely new spells or, if one were wasteful, in the making of a single enchanted item or, worst of all, an especially bad tasting potion. To be fair, neither I nor anyone else would pass on any such treasures. Wars were fought over such relics in the past, though politics also played their role spectacularly in such ‘disputes’.
But if left alone, if not stolen from no one at all, would the fruit grow into a tree and root into the sky?
The tree was surrounded by a deep thicket.
With no way around, I cautiously stepped onto the underlying mossy carpet and traveled deeper within. As I pushed forward the vegetation fought my efforts but, before snapping, abruptly relaxed and gave way. “Thank you.” I whispered, surprising even myself. Though, I supposed it never hurt to be too courteous. Even to a shrub.
Behind me, the path I’d made slowly disappeared as the branches returned to their original position like I’d never been there. I looked forward and-
*crunch*.
The bone-chilling sound shattered the silence of the forest. I froze. My heart quickened. What had I stepped on?
A hundred questions entered my mind as the vegetation closed in around me, surrounding me in blackness. The convenience of their allowing me deeper into the center now seemed to be the opening of a trap which now closed in around me as I stood frozen in place. The branches surrounded me and paused. I stood still for what felt like an eternity but was probably only a moment in this timeless place. ‘Would I die to a bush?’ The thought lingered, ominous and absurd.
Slowly, I lifted my foot and placed it down to the side. Feeling the even ground again, I pushed forwards. The branches had seemingly forgotten my being there and once again needed convincing to let me pass. Clear of the thicket, a sigh of relief escaped my chest as I was unsure of exactly how much danger I was in.
I could now clearly see the fruit. It radiated a cold-blue light and, surprisingly, did look far more like an apple than expected.
“Huh.” I’d said, far louder than intended.
I climbed the tree and crawled out on one of its branches, recalling this was easier when I’d been younger. A stem connected the fruit to the branch which my instincts told me could not be cut by normal means.
I withdrew a small blade, provided by XXX for this occasion, and passed its enchanted blade across the stem. As I cut, frayed iridescent threads hung in the air and slowly dissolved while others fused to survive. As more threads broke, some brushed against the enchanted knife, binding to it and threatening to alter its very nature.
My work quickened and the fruit was severed when, for the first time, a cool breath of wind caressed my face like the forest exhaled. The air had shifted. I stiffened and my eyes watched the gaps in the trees as the forest turned its attention to me. I sensed that more than just trees now watched. I needed to get home. Now.
I gently placed the still glowing fruit in a bag, jumped to the ground, and navigated back through the thicket, and thanked them once again. I reached for a second vial when my eyes focused on something. It was covered in moss and nearly as tall as I was, resembling a circular stone table on its side with a single thin protrusion extending upward.
Despite the nagging urgency, I approached and gently removed the moss to reveal a pale-white surface with distinct ridges radiating outward from a central point. A vertebrae. The moss was returned onto the huge bone. I didn’t want to think about that right now.
Hurriedly, I took the vial out within which a clear liquid effortlessly danced with the light. Uncorking it, I tipped it over, ensuring only a single drop fell towards the ground. Before landing, it slowed, curved, and accelerated away from me to my right. I exhaled, thankful that it seemed to be working. Trusting the droplet would lead me home, I ran after it.
Each droplet eventually tired and fell. After reaching its resting place, I’d poured another, eyeing its slowing descent and acceleration ahead of me. As this ritual repeated my boots hitting the hard, dusty ground was the only detectable sound, seemingly made louder as it echoed of the bodies of the pale giants surrounding me. [WHAT DOES HE DO HERE]
I increased my pace and returned to the rhythm of chasing the droplets until a distant hum filled the air which only grew louder as I continued.
Smiling triumphantly, I caught my breath and watched as the droplets traveled towards the base of a single, undistinguished tree, then dance upwards along its body, glowing bright yellow as they ascended before disappearing in a bright flash. The way out was ahead of me.
“Almost there. Here goes nothing.”
I place a foot onto the side of the tree. Then the other. Feeling my weight shift, I stood horizontal to the ground. Laughing, I look ‘up’ back towards the way from which I came and freeze. That’s when I see it. A hulking figure with a wolf-like head crouched motionless and low to the ground. It was midstep as it stared at me with wide forward-facing eyes that were all too intelligent. The long hair on its head was a braided, tangled, mess from which a crown of antlers protruded. Slowly, it raises its body.
This isn’t happening.
CLICK.
A sound like a boulder cracking reverberated through my bones, breaking the humming of the tree under my feet and threatening my balance.
This place was supposed to be abandoned.
CLICK-CLICK.
It shifted. And lunged, kicking up dust and tearing the ground as it ran. It’s hair waved wildly as it clawed the ground while the clicking grew into a frenzied rhythm that drowned the hum of the tree.
I snapped back into my mind and turned, sprinting up the tree hoping to get high enough to escape its reach. I nearly slip as I looked back at the ground. Dread filled me as I saw the thing had immediately closed in on the base of the tree. It was far too agile for its size. It leapt and grabbed onto either side of the giant tree and heaved itself upwards, swiftly scaling the tree.
Panic seized me and I grabbed the same vial, quickly drinking the rest of the liquid and felt it burn my throat as I continued my mad ascent. Halfway up the tree, my weight shifted again and my vision brightens. The world turns white when suddenly a searing pain arcs across my back as a claw rips into my flesh. Then I’m falling.
A cold wind whip against my face as my eyes open to see familiar sunlight on green fields surrounding a lake towards which I’m rapidly falling.
That's it for now. Thanks for reading if you have read anything at all. Any advice is appreciated.