Hey, welcome to my blog. I'm crossgartered. : )
27 | nd | aro | ace
I mainly post whatever strikes my fancy, which includes a lot of fandoms, linguistics, drawing refs, story ideas, and stuff that makes me smile
The journal pages at the flame in Crackridge are quite the mess, scattered every which way and quite a few marked on one edge with blood. The vision Partitio and Osvald receive as they rekindle the Sacred Flame explains it after Osvald recalls some conversation he overheard in town: Ori stabbed herself, but subconsciously, she must have moved the dagger toward where she carried her journal on her. She’d still injured herself, both the vision and the blood left behind make that quite clear, and it’d been enough to douse the flame (perhaps the massacre of the Kal people all those years ago counted as credit toward future evils), but the journal taking the brunt of the force let her live.
Partitio’s still a little shaken that his plucky acquaintance was not so plucky after all, nearly dead at her own hand and wanting the world to end, and Agnea and Ochette try to comfort him as the other five travelers scour the ruins for every journal page and piece together what information they can. They find roughly fifty pages. About half of them have the kind of information you’d expect in a scrivener’s journal, even if the tone of the entries is much moodier than they would have expected beforehand; the other half has hints of a conspiracy’s workings. Though there is a scrap that shows Partitio’s philanthropy as a merchant gave Ori some hope, and Temenos passes that piece onto the man with a quiet “You may want to read this”. Then he picks up another scrap, scans it for any key words–and goodness, ‘Lostseed’, ‘Claude’, ‘D’arqest’, and ‘Vide’ practically jump from the paper to seize him–and then his mind stutters on a section.
‘With the blood of D’arqest and Vide within his veins, Claude’s fate was to become the dark god’s vessel. And yet, he rejected this destiny and instead chose to pass that honor on to his offspring.’
Throné is one of his offspring.
‘The man sired countless children with countless women and set his progeny at each other’s throats–to the bloody victor goes the ultimate spoils.’
Throné was the ‘victor’ of that hellish competition, his wretched idea of a ‘self-tending’ garden.
Throné is…a vessel for the dark god Vide?
“What did you find, Temenos?” Castti asks.
“Nothing,” he says. “Nothing at all.” He makes a show of dropping the paper to the ground, carefully eyeing where it lands. “The darkness is getting to me, I think.”
This gets sympathetic noises all around. It’s been night for what, given how far they’ve traveled, should have been about three full days. Fire still provides some comfort. Holy light even more, when Temenos has had the spare energy to use it outside battle. But everyone is craving the sun’s return. The only one who hasn’t complained about it is Throné. She does miss the sun, doesn’t she?
He retrieves the scrap when no one is looking. He needs to think about this. He needs to tease out the implications.
somehow instead of saying “as a treat”, I’ve started using the phrase “for morale”, as if my body is a ship and its crew, and I (the captain) have to keep us in high spirits, lest we suffer a mutiny in the coming days.
and so I will eat this small block of fancy cheese, for morale. I will take a break and drink some tea, for morale. I will pick up that weird bug, for morale.
I’m not sure if it helps, but it does entertain me
So you’re telling me that R has a Robespierre waistcoat?
I get that Grantaire is exceptionally well-educated, it doesn’t explain why would a skeptic has a Robespierre waistcoat though!
Theories: -It’s actually Bahorel’s ,and Grantaire borrowed it/ “borrowed” it/ found it lying around after a wild party and didn’t get around to giving it back
- he knows it’s what all the Wild Radicals are wearing and he’d like to be considered a Wild Radical even ( “je suis farouche!” he says, and isn’t )
- he heard Enjolras say something vaguely positive about Bahorel’s waistcoats at one point , because hey, Politics, and that was all he needed to get his Very Own
- he got it for a gag to dress up one holiday and still had it around
- he traded Eponine for it somehow
- ?!??!??
given that he will buy anything Bahorel says will get ladies to like him, I think it’s pretty safe to assume his whole wardrobe is Bahorel-recommended tailoring
…oh no you’re RIGHT he is on record trying to follow Bahorel’s fashion plans
I was always just joking about that but you’re right , it’s true
What is it with sexy men and their complicated relationship with death
Has he considered he’s feeling weak at the knees because he’s been having sex for 7 days straight. Drink some water, you’re dehydrated
GAY PEOPLE? FOR FREE?
These bitches fought for five minutes, realized they were almost matching in strength, and decided to become lovers instead. In the time it took me to reheat a croissant I just witnessed a love story
They’re holding hands!!!
Today, give me your aid and you shall have mine: what then can go amiss with us two?
NO. DON’T SAY THAT. YOU FOOL.
YOU’RE LEADING YOUR BOYFRIEND TO HIS DEATH. I SEE THE CHAPTER TITLES.
Remember kids, when someone’s insulting your boyfriend, tear out the leg of the creature she sent to kill you and throw it at her face
Enkidu: I curse you woman for bringing me into this cursed world. Because of you I am dying
Shamash: be so fr rn fucking moron
Enkidu:
Enkidu: I bless you woman
God… This entire epic so far he’s been convinced of his infallibility. Even when facing Enkidu, he won, beating this man who boasted that he had no greater enemy. Facing Humbaba, he won. Facing the bull of the heavens, he won. He’s so assured of his invincibility because he’s never had to grapple with otherwise. It isn’t until Enkidu’s death that he’s had a taste of defeat, a sickness that’s taken his friend in the dark, not in glory but in sleep. He touched his heart but it did not beat, nor did he lift his eyes again. Gilgamesh was made two parts god and one part mortal, but never has he had a taste of that mortality, so assured in his divinity. And then he did. And now he’s terrified
Fellas is gay to finally feel mortal at the death of a friend
Is it gay to feel vulnerable at the face of an enemy you cannot defeat. Who stole your love from you between a breath and the next?
