Thanksgiving 2020

 

I sit here at work, thankful. 

My experience of 2020 was a bit different than most folks. Already hardly going out because of family obligations, the quarantine changed very little of my own life. I was already in the throws of CPTSD; not a whole lot could have changed in my stress level, simply because I was almost maxed out to begin with. At the time it seemed like a simple choice: break or keep going. 2020 just added to the list. But each and every thing added to it made another decision point: break or keep going. And all of a sudden I have found a strength that I could not have found otherwise. I do not make the mistake of saying that strength is within me, because it can leave at any moment it wishes. Rather, it is on loan, since I have asked for it. 

I did not realize I even had the strength that I do until about two weeks ago. I was cleaning my parish with my wife and family. I was alone, in the church proper, with the icons. I've never felt detached from icons the way that some do. To me they are not detached, but resilient; iconographical faces are not uncaring, but unflinching. They look into the horrors of our lives and do not flinch. And, in the faces of those who do not flinch, I could not help but not to flinch at my own life. 

And you know what? When I look at my life and don't flinch for all the sores, bruises, cuts, and horrific burns, I have it really good. My wife and my children continuously provide me with light and love that I'd never look for alone. It's good to have someone who can consistently call out my self-deceptions, and none do it gentler than my angelic wife, or so sweetly as my sons.  My family overall is in a better place than it has been and is only getting better, because everyone wishes it that way. I game two to three times a week, which allows all the rushing ideas I have in my head to have a place to go. I am beginning to return to my iconography. My job is as secure as I can get it.

The year 2020 will pass. My Complex PTSD will also pass, the pains and anxieties I feel now are going to change and do something different. But I'm blessed enough to not just have wonderful things, but social distancing, the worries about a growing techno-totalitarianism, and a heavy dose of PTSD to remind me to focus on the things that actually matter to me. It's not an easy lesson to learn, but without those negative things would I really focus on what I actually love and enjoy?

And so therefore I am thankful for being so blessed.

I mean, c'mon, I can sit around and listen to this, my day can't be that bad.

Roll To Fail: Episode 4

Mando Mondays: Chapter Twelve

The Pull: November 2020, Part 2

 

So there's a bit of a hiccup in this particular review, as the format that The Amazing Spider-Man has chosen to tell its story is becoming somewhat problematic. Darth Vader, however, continues to impress.

The Amazing Spider-Man 52, 52.LR, and 53

Okay, this is becoming a bit of a problem. Let's assume you're reading these the way I am: 51, 51.LR, 52, 52.LR, etc. The regularly numbered issues tell the main story: Spider-Man versus Kindred. The .LR issues tell the story of the rest of the supporting cast. And, while I'm glad that Spencer is focusing on the rest of the cast, I'm really starting to wish he'd just written a separate mini-series to cover them. Because things you learn in 51.LR (Harry Osborn being Kindred), are being treated as a huge deal in 53, when you've known for what's effectively four or so issues already! The drama of Peter realizing that Harry is Kindred is blunted, almost undone, because I've known for so long already. And all of the issues, for the record, are well written! 52 is a great exploration of Peter achieving a victory that only Peter would think of as a victory. 52.LR does a good job of continuing to explore the fallout, especially with Norman Osborn, although I have questions on how the heck Morlun got out of his prison. Like, everything individually is working out well. But the structuring of Last Remains has some significant problems at this point.

Darth Vader 7

Can we all please agree that Webbish Bogg is an awesome name? Please? Are we capable of doing that in a post-OT era?

Good!

Anyone else catch the Kylo Ren-ish expressions on Anakin at the beginning of the comic? I love little nods like this, as well as further cementing that Anakin's killing of the younglings and the Trade Federation slime-balls was incredibly awful to him. He hated every moment of it. 

It's good to see Ochi in action. He's got a nonchalance to his actions, an assuredness, that I find to be interesting. I finally got the connection between this and Rise of Skywalker, but Ochi's not really that important to me in that context.

But it's ultimately Vader himself who sells me in this episode. Standing in a pool of lava, cracking dark jokes... this is what sells me on the character. Not the bad-ass, not the minutes of silence, but this person who isn't nearly as gone as he thinks he is. It's awesome to see this guy continue to fight for redemption, to try and figure out what that even looks like. 

The Entrance into the Temple

 

This is one of my favorite feasts. I like it for how odd it is to our American Protestant sensibilities, the beauty of promises, and that the spiritual experiences of children are immortalized so. 

It is hard for us in America to conceive of this feast. We like to think of spiritual experiences as primarily mental, not experiential. We want to say that only with understanding can know God.  I was brought up Roman Catholic and still have bits of that whole "age of reason" nonsense they've adopted bouncing in my head. That, of course, isn't helped by the whole "Prayer of Conversion" stuff Protestants do. The Theotokos was three when she ran into the Holy of Holies. That sure makes me uncomfortable! That's something for me to work on! Discomfort is not a bad thing, but a sign I have something to work out.

I've always had a bit of a problem with the whole "promise to God" thing, the ancients did. How do you know it's actually God who did what He did? We promise all sorts of desperate things when in rabbit holes, how do we know that it was actually God who intervened? But this feast does assure that God, indeed, did hear you. He was the one Who made sure you got through whatever it  was. That promise was real. And it's up to you how real you want that to be, I suppose, but the Entrance into the Temple certainly has an opinion on what you're supposed to do with that promise.

But the ultimate lesson, I think, is in validating the spiritual experiences of the young. The only difference between an adult and a child that matters is power. We understand God just as well as adults as we did when we were children. And all of us have had some moment of peace or encounter with goodness that helped define who we were, as children. I've met people who've had these experiences, but learned to discount them. The world doesn't work that way, no one is that good, nothing is that good, that was a lie, a flight of fancy, etc. This Feast says otherwise. Definitively. 

God is with us, even as children, before we're able to understand in a way that us wise and rational adults think of as understanding.  No matter how uncomfortable it may make us to acknowledge that fact, no matter how we want to say that promises made under stress are still promises, no matter how we want to forget the wonderful things that God may have done to us because it's painful to acknowledge them, it is still true. God is with us.

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Suihkulahde: Session Two

Anneli is on a mission. Dai had been sent to find The Island, where one can make whatever wish they'd like, by Marian, The Countess of Fire. Anneli managed to get a crew for a ship, The Felicitas, and they had set sail. But then the sun all but went out. And their first supply run almost ended in the crew's death. 

Lore Note: Vaeltaja (elves)  do not see themselves in terms of male and female, given how little reproduction happens in a vaeltajan lifespan. We decided that elves would instead classify themselves in terms of how much Grief a vaeltaja carried on their soul. To them the differences between even a Grief of B1 and B2 would be noticeable, although for simplicity's sake they'd stick to what we think would make four categories:

Grief B0-B3: mu (singular and multiple)/mul (possesive)

Grief B4-B7 dai/dail

Grief B8-9 ta/tal

B10, but not yet sailed into the Void tor/torl

Oh, and those who died? They're referred to as the triumphant, both in noun and pronoun.

 

The wind was against the Felicitas, yet again. They'd run out of water and were almost out of food, but this wind was no closer to getting them to land. The crew's torchlight tried to pierce the black water below and the black skies above, and died in both attempts. 

Anneli commanded the mainsail come down, as it wasn't helping them get to land. Hands grabbed the rope and pulled.  Aloisio tripped on a strip of his teal robes, bowling everyone else over. Fingar, who had been picking at Aloisio since he first got on the Felicitas, shouted at him. "Again! You and that robe! It's on, all the time, always getting in your way. In our way. It's in tatters! What's the point of hanging onto it?"

"Fingar... attenSHUN!!!" Fingar turned on dail heel to face Anneli, face frozen. "Don't chide poor Aloisio for holding onto something so dear to him, even after all the pain it put us all through. You still keep a splinter from your first ship, correct? You keep it on you?" Fingar flushed a bit but said nothing. They got the sail up on the next try.

Thungal took Anneli aside, to the aft deck. "I miss real sailing," Thungal sighed. "The wood's wrong. So's the smell."

"I don't like it either," agreed Anneli. "I can't look over the railing and see the world below. I can't descend upon the wind or go to the Void above, to visit the stars. We're just on a flat painting. But this is good enough for the lyhyt and so it'll have to do for now."

"You seem to have an affection for the humans, Captain," Thungal stated. "Are you sure that's wise? They don't have our perspective and thus our wisdom. Their hearts can be good, but shouldn't we be guiding them, instead of treating them like peers?"

"I don't know if we're wiser than they are, legitimately," said Anneli. "Their passion, the lack of time they have to consider things, makes them learn much faster than we do. Humans also have to learn from each other in order to make it in their lives, in a manner that we vaeltaja never learn to do. They live in and through each other. We shouldn't discount that."

Thungals eyes looked inward for a moment, and dai finally nodded after a moment.

WHUMP

The Felicitas shook.

"What was that?" asked Thungal.

"I don't want to find out! Fingar, can you see any land, anything?" shouted Anneli.

Fingar, who had climbed up into the crow's nest, was knocked out by the next WHUMP; the fall left a few bruises but Fingar was quite coherent. "There's an island, northwest, within a few hours."

"We need to survive till then," declared Anneli, who had run over to the railing to see if the... something... had surfaced.

Anneli was suspended in darkness. Vaeltaja often talked about the vastness of space as the Void, but the truth was that space was filled with light and life. This place was entirely different; a darkness so complete that Anneli wasn't sure if dail eyes were opened or closed. Somehow Anneli knew dai was underwater, in the true Void. 

A current grabbed dail legs and Anneli was pulled, water rushing around dai. Lights and teeth whoosed past Anneli. A great darkness with rocks loomed under dail feet. The rocks were too sharp. And they were all moving, together, in unison.

Anneli wasn't being dragged into a canyon.

SPLASH

Anneli's lungs filled with salty water. Dai popped up, coughing, to the surface, drawing dail sword and jamming it into the Felicitas, hauling dailself onto the ship as fast as dai could go, eager hands pulling dai up. "What do we have left, far as food is concerned?" Every jaw but Anneli's was slack.  Anneli turned around, but all dai saw were the ripples from something far, far, far too large to be believed in. Shaking off the shock of those waves, Anneli ran down to the hold, to where Remus the cook kept their reserves. A solitary fifteen pound side of pork greeted dai. It was their last source of food and they were already out of water. "Help me!" Anneli shouted, yanking the meat acrost the floor, to the stairs. "We'll be dead if we don't distract it, whatever it is."

There was a naked human woman, standing upon the water; she was looking right at Anneli. The others paused in terror.

And then the jaws came up. They were impossibly large, easily able to swallow the ship in their enormity. The Woman, who grew out of the snout, rose into the air, staring with unseeing eyes... still right at Anneli. "HEAVE" yelled Anneli, and the side of pork flew right into the impossible jaws. One blink later and they were alone, the wake of water raising their ship.

A few hours later and the Felicitas happened upon the island Fingar had seen in the previously brighter gloom of what passed for noon. Anneli had Fingar run the Felicitas up onto shore, given the monstrosity they had encountered. Anneli ordered Brutus the navigator and Fingar south along the shoreline, while dai and Thungal went north. Aloisio and Remus were left to guard the ship. Even with their elven eyes Anneli and Thungal needed a torch. They set out, an orange light in the black, feet walking lightly atop the sand, hardly leaving prints.  A forest loomed on their right in the black; fallen leaves barely crunched beneath their light footfalls. The trees were almost bare. But Anneli and Thungal found what they were looking for: deer tracks. Following the tracks the pair happened upon a clearing, with the hart picking at what remained of some withered grass. One good heave of Anneli's spear and the hart breathed its last. They cut the arteries, bled the deer out, and Anneli hoisted it upon dail shoulders.

Unfortunately Anneli and Thungal couldn't figiure the way back. The forest looked the same, especially as the world returned to its new almost pitch-black state of night. "Welcome. It has been a long time since I saw someone," said a voice who could be felt, not heard. Thungal and Anneli both started, looking around.

"Where are you! Show yourself!" commanded Anneli.

There was a chuckle of genuine mirth. "How can I show myself if I don't know where you are, Oh Sailing One?"

"Sailed," corrected Anneli. "I am one of Those Who Sailed."

"Oh, but your voyage isn't over yet, young one!" chided The Voice. "Welcome to the Journey, Anneli. Until we meet again."

Anneli and Thungal knew he was gone, if he had ever been there at all. But now they could hear the lapping of the waves on the shore. The Felicitas wasn't too far off. Brutus and Fingar returned with water. They didn't have enough for a voyage, but there was certainly enough for supper around a fire, with friends, in the pitch black.

It was enough, for now.

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The Spiders' Web: Chapter Five

 

The air was filled the stink of rotten food, feces, and falling apart blankets. But it was not a cold world. That much could be said thought Victor as he rolled onto his padded feet, stretching all the way out to his claws.

Victor had claws.

And fur. 

A lupine head was staring back at him from a puddle, eyes glowing crimson. Where was his face? What had happened to it? The wolf opened its mouth. A howl proceeded from it. Victor stumbled backwards, onto clawed hands with grey fur. Others, something in his head whispered. Find the others. 

Peter was late. Again. Time was so easy to lose track of in the wake of Uncle Ben's death. So was homework. Classes had originally been what he had gotten him through the day: the rustling of pages, the smell of a sharpened pencil, the indents those pencils left on notebook paper, all these things used to be a comfort. And now Peter had to force himself to think about them. He had to force himself to stay in his room to do homework, to walk to school, to sit through dinners with Aunt May as she made sure his soup was just the right level of lukewarm. And for the love of God Peter wanted to be okay with not wearing the damn spandex suit under his clothes.  

The school was up ahead. Peter needed to hurry.

There was that tingle in the back of his neck again. From the right this time.

WHUMP

Fur. Teeth. Pantings. Stench. It was at least as large as Peter, if not larger.

The crowd around him scattered. Peter blinked as he watched the lupine form with blue jeans awkwardly flee down the sidewalk on all fours. Why was it doing that? It clearly has a bipedal frame. Peter didn't remember running into the alleyway, or stashing his clothes in his backpack. There was just the rush. He was in the air, twhipping along with the web-shooters he had made a few weeks ago. One rush caught him up to the running werewolf. Peter's mouth was dry; he was trying not to wet his spandex. This thing was at least seven feet tall.  His brain just couldn't-

"Here boy! Good boy! Let's play fetch!" 

Where the hell had Peter gotten the tennis ball??? 

But he had it. In his hand. And the thing was watching him, curiously. Expectantly. I think it's scared too something inside of him said. "Why don't we go play fetch in the park, boy?" No, not that. Really not that. What do you think you're doing? said The Voice. The wolf thing wasn't amused either. It howled and the back of Peter's neck tingled like nobody's business. Peter ducked. "The quick Spider-Man ducked under the very Bad Boy's swing! Not all the letters but c'mon that must have taken years to come up with!" Peter's fist shot up and he heard a cracking noise that he was so happy wasn't his jaw. "I always wanted a dog! But my mom's allergic and all that GOD BLESS YOU"(the woman who had just sneezed half a block down heard Spider-Man as he shouted) - "but what the heck is this?? I knew you shed and needed to be housebroken but this?? I mean my God, the slobber alone!"

SWISH SWISH. "HOOOOOOOOWWWWLL!!!!" Oh dear God that was too close. Both freaking times.

Twhip BAM. A newspaper dispenser flew in a shower of concrete and screws and smashed into the wolf's snout. "BAD BOY! NEWSPAPER TO NOSE GO LIE DOWN". And now the wolf was running again. Peter was was so terrified that he realized that he had, finally, wet himself. Wasn't adrenaline supposed to do something about that? Now he'd be even later to school than he already was! Thank God the pants were black, not blue! I mean it'll show lint but at least it doesn't show piss, although lint is a real pain too.

Oh wait.

I still have the tennis ball.

Don't ev- "WAIT COME BACK!!!" Peter heaved the tennis ball as hard as he could , smacking the wolf-thing in the back of the head. It feel over with a YIPE, on top of a screaming child. Oh shit. "Won't play fetch. Drools like crazy. EW ON THE SHEDDING"- Peter stepped around a patch of thick fur that was defiling the already hideously dirty concrete- I need to wash this suit when I get home dear God- and shot a web off at the foul thing's head. thwi-PAT went the web. His fist rocketed off the wolf's jaw as it stood with a sickening GRUNCH and it fell over. "Rated 0 out of 5 on the Good Boy Scale. Will send back to the pound for a good ole lethal injection A face only a mother could love, and even that's a stretch, wouldn't you say Boy?"

The screaming. Sirens. The "Get down on the ground!! NOW!"s coming in like bullets. The actual guns pointed at him.

Oh God my pants stink.

"No thanks, if I ever go to the cops it's with clean pants! Buh bye!" And with a thwip Peter had bounced away with a speed that never ceased to take his breath away. 

The cops took the unconscious and broken form of "Bad Boy" away.

For not the last time Peter didn't go to school that day. God, that fight felt good Peter thought for not one or two times as he hacked the school's network to find his teachers' lesson plans; homework still needed to get done.

Victor's mother never had a solid night's sleep again. No matter how hard she clutched her rosary beads the police never found her precious Victor, nor did they particularly seem to care about him.

Gangbangers give up the right to a mother, far as some are concerned.

Victor's mother cried anyway.

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Mando Mondays: Chapter 11

We discuss a ton of things in this episode of Mando Mondays, ending with a resounding telling off of Obi-Wan Kenobi!

The Pull: November 2020 Edition, Part 1

 

So, I kinda fell off the wagon as far as The Pull was concerned. I am back. And dear God we have a lot to focus on. Due to some budgetary stuff we'll be going down to just Amazing Spider-man, Star Wars, and Darth Vader. Titles will be re-added as I can afford to add them. 

Obviously, SPOILERS FROM HERE ON OUT

Darth Vader #6

One of the most interesting things about ROTJ is the shift that Vader has had since ESB. Vader goes from begging Luke to help him overthrow Palpatine to a seeming timidity, insisting that Palpatine is to be obeyed above all. It's a very odd shift.

Which is what makes this comic so great, because dear God Palpatine is a SCARY SCARY BAD MAN.

Like, the utter simplicity of this comic is almost beyond reproach. Palpatine jumps Vader, who is trying to figure himself out, beats the snot out of him, cripples his apprentice, and then leaves him to rebuild on Mustafar.  Oh, and as if that was not enough, Palpatine sends an assassin after a very weakened Vader, and Vader is not allowed to use the Force but must work under his own crippled strength, because otherwise Palpatine will just kill Vader?

This is straight out of a heavy metal album.

And I mean that in the best way possible. This is fun.

Star Wars #8

I adore this cover. Just, straight up love it. If you needed to know who Zahara is this one cover just sums it up in the best way possible. Grieving and vicious, Zahara's got a personal stake in this, given her stance as the rejected foster daughter of Tarkin. I love her motivations and how she is inherently out to stop more Death Star incidents from happening. The Empire is a means to that end, for her. It's interesting to see someone so vicious be so vulnerable.

If there's anything this issues fails to do it's to give Leia a compelling arc. I get this is Zahara's story and whatnot, but we've barely seen Leia in the title and it would have been nice to give her something to do beyond show up and get made a fool of. I get that Luke's the combatant of the two, but it really felt hollow having him show up. Leia is a smart cookie, she can definitely handle Zahara by herself. Not by outfighting her, but by outthinking. Maybe they're saving that for a future issue? I don't know, but Leia seemed to be the weak link in this issue. Luke shouldn't be the dude who just gets Leia out of her scrapes once he's got his power figured out. That just makes them both plot devices, and these characters deserve better than that.

Amazing Spider-Man #50, 50.LR, 51, and 51.LR

Holy shit Kindred is Harry Osborn. I have thoughts on that. But I wanna wait until #52 until I say more.

I love how this issue begins to finalize the repudiation of One More Day. It was a bad decision, made by a man who belonged nowhere near the franchise. Reading JMS's take on it is nothing short of bone-chilling. And, as much as I enjoyed some of Slott's take on Peter, his refusal to show Peter as a functional adult really grated on me by the end of that run. And for years we've just watched Peter run around with this shadow over him. Slott didn't want to deal with it because he agreed with it.

I've no idea why that changed, or why they let Spencer have the title. But Last Remains is, so far, everything this bitter fan of JMS has ever wanted to happen after the travesty that is OMD. Peter is paying, in full, for the stupidity that he wrought with Mephisto. And it is playing out a hell of a lot better than I ever thought it would.

Norman Osborn is a joy to read. I love how guilt-ridden he is, how utterly repentant and desperate, but not despairing! He knows his part in this whole mess and is trying to fix it, working against Kindred because Kindred is the one who accidentally set it up. Or, at least I think it's an accident. This is an angle on Norman I think that may be actually unique. And it's a lot of fun. 

I love how Sin-Eater isn't down and out, even after being abandoned by Kindred. It's cool to see a character who is so focused on who he is that, even abandoned by his dark god, he continues on with his mission. There's just this really cool vibe of a fallen paladin coming off the dude. And I have no idea how the heck Morlun got back to the 616 universe but... um.... that's not what I expected. At all.

And there's a Black Cat and Dr. Strange team up going on? Be still my beating heart! This is great! Having these two characters bounce off each other is the ultimate Odd Couple. Black Cat's hedonistic but still noble tendencies really piss of Dr. Strange, and he really tries her patience with his lack of caring about "minutiae".

My wallet cried when I saw how much these folks have in mind for The Amazing Spider-Man title, but so far this is shaping up to be exactly what I wanted out of this run. I don't get to say that very often. And I'm going to relish it.

UNDO IT, SPENCER. I'M ROOTING FOR YA

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The Undertow: Session Thirty-Five

Mikansia, looking for the remaining children of tal friend Jabez, has accidentally stumbled into a warzone. Kotae Mah, the capital of the orbital Ring of Tears, has been steeped in a war of succession for the throne of the High King. And Mikansia may be the last hope of the supporters of the rightful ruler, Prince Alpertti, who has just sat down to explain the whole situation to Mikansia...

Lore Note: Vaeltaja (elves)  do not see themselves in terms of male and female, given how little reproduction happens in a vaeltajan lifespan. We decided that elves would instead classify themselves in terms of how much Grief a vaeltaja carried on their soul. To them the differences between even a Grief of B1 and B2 would be noticeable, although for simplicity's sake they'd stick to what we think would make four categories:

Grief B0-B3: mu (singular and multiple)/mul (possesive)

Grief B4-B7 dai/dail

Grief B8-9 ta/tal

B10, but not yet sailed into the Void tor/torl

Oh, and those who died? They're referred to as the triumphant, both in noun and pronoun.

 

The ceiling vanished in a rumble, along with a positively gleeful cackle. Mikansia didn't need to look up to know who it was, but ta did anyway. Standing on the lip of the wall, above them, was Zaina, the elf who had obsessed about Jabez and resented Mikansia's place in the triumphant's life. Zaina had killed Santeri, Jabez's father, after the triumphant had learned that the High King of Kotae Mah was a dark elf. Zaina had also killed Yngvar, who had helped Santeri realize the truth. And then Mikansia had been dragged off into the timestream, unable to avenge Yngvar or Santeri's death.

This was not how Mikansia wanted to meet Zaina again. Because dai was not alone. Surrounding Zaina were a dozen vaguely humanoidish figures, standing on the air itself. It took a second for Mikansia to comprehend what ta was looking at. They were in a constant state of decay. Reds, ebonies, and fuligins all melted and congealed and flowed, like an avalanche in flesh. "Turmeltunuts!!! RUN!!" yelled shouted one of the elder vaeltaja. Everyone began to fall back immediately, as the turmeltunuts descended on the air like we walk down stairs, ever falling apart. Cords linked all twelve turmeltunuts together, which occasionally pulsed with a jolting light.

Prince Alpertti charged the turmeltunuts with a bloodcurdling cry. Mu cut through one of their stomachs-

The turmeltunut squealed.

In ecstasy.

And grew bigger. Swollen in pleasure.

It was much louder on Prince Alpertti's return swing, leaning into the blow, almost grabbing the blade to shove it deeper as it swung at the Prince with mottled claws.

Somehow Mikansia was able to pull Prince Alpertti away from the turmeltunut's swing. The air crackled with ozone. The line attached to the turmeltunut flashed again and it moaned, softly, reforming a bit under the impulse. The flesh reformed, growing harder, engorged. Mikansia brandished Sydanelma toward the turmeltunut and it immediately backed up, collapsing skin hissing like a tea kettle.

"THAT SWORD DOESN'T BELONG TO YOU!!!" screamed the crazed Zaina as dai threw dailself upon Mikansia. A sword, possibly darker than the Sword of Uriel, came crashing down on Sydanelma. Not only was Zaina a better swordsman than the last time Mikansia had seen dai but the fuligin blade dai wielded had a weight behind it that reminded Mikansia of Sydanelma. Ta didn't know what this blade was but it was at least Sydanelma's equal. "Hello, brother dear!" crowed Zaina at Alpertti.

"You'll pay for those words, whore!" screamed Alpertti. 

"MOVE" shouted Mikansia, pulling Prince Alpertti as one yanks a screaming child. Ducking under and around the tulmeltunuts was bad enough, but Zaina would not let up, attacking with a frenzy Mikansia would never have believed possible. And Mikansia wanted to return that fury, blow for blow. But ta couldn't fight Zaina and keep Prince Alpertti from getting himself killed. No jumping off of Kotae Mah for you! thought Mikansia to talself, with no small amount of grim humor. The WHAMWHAMWHAMWHAMWHAM of blocking Zaina's blade merged with Zaina's laughter, Prince Alpertti's helpless screams, and the moans of pleasure coming from the turmeltunuts, making one layered soundtrack of horror. Mikansia wondered if they would ever find the damn door. 

But they did. And Toivol was waiting. "You need to get out of here! That dragonhide will stand up to almost anything and the Prince needs to be protected! Give me Jabez's sword! Please!" Mikansia hesitated, knuckles flexing as ta held the sword. "Please! That sword is all I have left to connect me to my family!" yelled Toivol as Zaina got closer. But it wasn't the Toivol that Mikansia had met, not even an hour ago. This Toivol had fire in torl eyes. Tor was not going to go to the Void, tor was going to die with torl feet under tor. And nothing about the Blade of Uriel seemed to fill Mikansia with much confidence; someone had to stay back.

It's hard to communicate how quickly the following happened. We're often told that a lifetime can flash by in an instant, but it's hard to communicate just how much can happen in such a short section of time. All of this happened in the space of one scream of protest from Prince Alpertti, who Mikansia still had by the collar like a baby kitten. But Time, in his mercy, the Mediator of Experience, did slow down enough for Mikansia to understand. Time is not always against us.

Jabez was standing in front of the pirates. The triumphant was holding the sword of triumphant's house, the pride of the family's ancestors. Jabez looked down at the hilt and remembered the look in Mikansia's eyes: the fire, the passion, the need to go and right wrongs. Jabez was looking at those eyes, in the triumphant's mind, as the sword was taken out of the triumphant's  trembling hands. But Mikansia had to get to the surface; Jabez found refusing that need impossible. And Mikansia wouldn't say no to Toivol either, not now. 

Jabez was with Toivol, many years ago. Jabez had only just begun the triumphant's training to become a sword singer, something Santeri had opposed vigorously. Jabez was nervous. And then Toivol had asked for that sword. The sword of Jabez's ancestor's. And this indignation had washed through Jabez. "No, this sword is mine" Jabez told Toivol. "Go get your own family heirloom."

Toivol started. Tor was no longer looking at Mikansia, but Jabez! Mikansia was still there, but ta knew ta was not what Toivol, somehow. Jabez held out Sydanelma, with an open heart. Toivol accepted Sydanelma with a gentle caress. "I've still a thing or two to each you, young'un," Toivol quipped. "Get moving now!" 

Time resumed his usual pace.

And with that Toivol turned torl back and charged, just as Zaina had extricated dailself. A song erupted from Toivol's diaphragm in the ensuing fight: the Song of the Sword. But it was the happy ditty that Simone had sung on the way to the Gates of Paradise, at the loudest Toivol could belt it out, not the song of rage and aggression that the rest of the vaeltaja had twisted it into.

Prince Alpertti almost yanked mulself away from Mikansia's grasp. "No! Not Toivol! Come back! NO!!!" Mikansia's pleadings were lost in the two competing melodies: joyful sacrifice and the breaking of a young heart. So Mikansia punched Prince Alpertti's lights out. Mu went down like a sack of potatoes and Mikansia winced. There was no time to think more than that. Alpertti's heels dragged as Mikansia pulled the unmoving frame down the street. Toivol's rendition was still going strong in tal ears. A few elves came up and grabbed Alpertti's ankles, helping Mikansia carry the unconscious prince. "What happened?" one of them asked.

"I... I had to knock mu out," said Mikansia. They stared at her in horror. ""Mu was going to get mulself killed!" insisted Mikansia. The other elves didn't say anything more, leaving only the fading Song of the Sword, which rose above the howling of the wind, betwixt them and Mikansia. Mikansia wasn't sure if the song faded from hearing or if it stopped suddenly; the howling of the wind made that uncertain. Everyone was silent as they made their way to the next safehouse. Mikansia, feeling numb and naked without Sydanelma, was glad for the silence.

The crimson flag caught Mikansia's eye; it was the standard of the Sword Singers. And Mikansia didn't care one bit. 

But Jabez did.

And the triumphant wouldn't shut up about how important it was.

Get it. Pleaded Jabez with Mikansia, deep in tal soul. Please.

I'm already heavy-laden, and not with Sydanelma either! No! spat back Mikansia.

Please, this is worth it. To retrieve a Sword Singer standard, to wrap it around one's shoulders, it is a great honor.

I. DON'T. CARE, yelled Mikansia in her mind, brows scrunching.

I do, is all Jabez said back.

Mikansia sighed, audibly, and stopped. The other two elves looked at ta quizzically, but ta ignored them, creeping out into the piazza they had just passed, up the pile of corpses, gripping the standard by the haft; its sharp end was in a fallen elf's abdomen. With a quick yank Mikansia had it free, with another yank the flag was off. A second later and it was tied around tal neck.

Mikansia stomped back to the ashamed elves, flag flying behind tal flowing form. "Let's get the Prince to safety," ta growled.

But Jabez was happy, at least.

Mikansia honestly couldn't tell the difference between their new safehouse and the old one, broken walls included. But they had a minute to rest and wait for Prince Alpertti to awaken. When mu did, mu rolled over, holding mul head in mul hands. "What... where's Toivol...?"

Mikansia knelt before Prince Alpertti. "I knocked you out. You are Kotae Mah, Your Highness, and Toivol's duty was to die protecting it." Prince Alpertti's eyes lit upon the standard of the Sword Singers, which was tied around Mikansia's neck, and mul gazed softened from anger to consternation to understanding to absolute admiration. "Guide us, Prince Alpertti. You are Kotae Mah."

Prince Alpertti nodded. "We are grateful. And yes, we will guide you. For Kotae Mah."

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