Aniiee's inane ramblings

Tack för att ni läste, och att ni tycker om mitt "språk".

Och självklart är alla tankar, åsikter och analyser välkomna =p

Det var ett nöje!

Det var så lite! Kul att få läsa 😊

Och nu, något annat.... 

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The glade with the giant oak tree with silver-tinted leaves is alive with color fluttering hither and through, a rainbow's worth. The four city youths stood for a moment, gaping. 

"Fairies", Elril breathed in awe.

"Fairies", Irestor confirms, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to just walk into a glade full of fairies. Maybe it was, for the elf.

Out of nowhere, a fairy popped up right in front of Irestor's nose. A very small young woman, with with long grey hair and silver eyes, dressed in orange leaves. Her wings were like a butterfly's, with the same blue color as Irestor's eyes, and on her face, she wore an expression of mixed anger and glee.

"Irestor", she cried out. "You're back! Where have you been, you haven't been here for ages, you meanie! Not since I gave you your new boots! You haven't even sent me a falcon since, you meanie!" Then she catches sight of Elril, Adomorn, Zanedithas and Aylonna. "Oh, oh, oh! Are they humans? I've never seen humans before, you never bring me any, you meanie. Are those boys? Why are the boys naked? Is she a girl? I think she is a girl. Why are the boys naked, but not the girl? Don't they know it's slaktirmaithir? They'll freeze to death. You should give them some clothes. But you're back, you big meanie!" And then she promptly hugged Irestor's nose.

"I missed you too, Tilja", Irestor replied. Elril felt entirely out of breath from the fairy's harangue. "And the boys are not naked, they're in their long-shirts."

Tilja abandoned Irestor's nose to flutter in front of the humans, inspecting their scant attire. Then she fluttered back to Irestor and said in a non-whisper:
"I think the boys' long-shirts are not quite long enough. Things... are showing..."

Irestor suppressed a snort. 

Elril's mind was reeling from trying to take it all in. All the fairytales that he grew up hearing, grew up telling, have sprung to life in front of him, and all it took to get to see it was to be sentenced to death. A little drastic, in his opinion. An elf. A glade full of fairies, one of whom was evidently quite chatty. Irestor was quite different here than he had been all morning. Quiet on the verge of dour, their savior and subsequent guide had transformed into something almost friendly and happy. Elril decided it must be hard to keep one's reserved dignity when someone is hugging your nose. 

"Slaktirmaithir", Adomorn said slowly, tasting the world. "Sounds like a longer version of Slamath."

"Trust humans to make a lazy bastardization of my people's language", Irestor frowned.

Tilja the fairy rounds Irestor again to flutter in front of the humans. "Yes", she said in a lecturing voice. "Slakthirmaithir. The maithir when you go on your last hunts before winter."

"You made Irestor's boots", Aylonna put in curiously. "Twenty years ago?"

"Yes" Tilja replied curtly. "And he never even thanked me twice."

Elril grinned. Fascinated by the whole situation, he tried not to make any sudden moves, fearing he would startle, or more probably anger, the tiny being with the blue butterfly wings. The idea that Irestor would be ingrateful for a pair of boots for 20 years made him want to laugh, but he dared not. 

"Tilja", Irestor said, voice soft and quiet, turning to them. "Take the humans downstairs. They need rest, warmth, food, and, yes, clothes. And probably a bath. I'll", his eyes grew distant. "I'll visit the thinking pools." And with that, Irestor shed his heavy cloak, his weapons, and his traveling bags, and walked away. Tilja watched him go, concern on her face. Then she turned back to the humans. "This way", she said cheerfully, and flutterd off towards the great oak.

Och nu, något annat något annat. Detta riskerar att bli långt. Och i flera delar. Över kanske några dagar.

Igen, som jag skrev till Fredrik förut, om det är svårläst på engelska, släng in det i Google Translate. Inte perfektt, men hjälper kanske. 

Detta är en sk first draft skriven igår och idag så verkligen råmaterial.

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Rowan Glaros is on his way home. For the first time in 6 years, he's going home to Embrim, and his family. And how long had it been before then? Three years? Four? He'd left for his travels when he was 20. 

There is so much he needs to share with them. So many discoveries, so much new knowledge. And Eiri. Rowan looks over at Eiri. The elf sits opposite him, staring out of the carriage window. He looks tired and thoughtful. No wonder, they've been on the road for two weeks. My bonded, Rowan thought affectionately, my darling future husband. My sweet mystery. Strange how we could live out whole childhoods in the same city and not meet until we were at the other side of Reutervit, a whole Realm away.

Rowan had to wonder how his family would react to meeting Eiri. In fact, he hasn't even told them Eiri exists. For some reason, it always felt wrong to him to put that in letters. His siblings would be thrilled, he was sure. His father would be warmly accepting, probably while surprised. His mother, temporarily disappointed. After all, her son was bringing home an elven man, instead of a human woman. There would not be a lot of prospects for grandchildren by her oldest son with that. But she would accept the arrangement, Rowan was sure. If nothing else, Eiri's quiet charm would win her over. 

Rowan reached out and took Eiri's hand, intertwining their fingers. Eiri's hand is ice cold, as usual. Rowan had noted earlier that his love didn't seem to understand the concept of gloves. Eiri's thoughtful expression, lightly chewing the inside of his lower lip, prompted Rowan to ask: "Are you worried?"

"Are you sure this is wise", Eiri asked. "Will your family really accept this? I am an elf, a man, and a mage. Gods know my family would not, were I to tell them."

Mildly surprised that Eiri even mentioned his family, Rowan rubbed Eiri's thumb with his own. "My family is not like yours", he said reassuringly. Truth is, he knows very little about Eiri's family, beyond the fact that they had some sort of falling out 11 years ago when Eiri was 17. "My parents might be mildly questioning for three minutes, but then they will see you as I do; as an intelligent, gifted mage and a caring, loving person with a heart of gold. You'll fit right in, whatever they might be expecting from me before they meet you."

Rowan let go of Eiri's hand, placed it on his cheek instead, and smiled conspiratorially. "And if they don't, we can always run away together."

Eiri scoffed with a smile, took Rowan's hand, and pressed it against his lips. "Know that if my father finds out that I'm back in the city, you will have to deal with an abduction in addition to that other investigation you're working on." Then, almost nonchalantly, he turned his gaze back to the city and sea ahead.

A chill ran down Rowan's spine. Did Eiri really just say that he is in danger of abduction of his own family if he returns to his hometown? What, by the Celestial Threads, is that family? A cult? "Is that a real danger", he asked. "And if it is, I...", Rowan studied Eiri's profile, half-lit by the gloomy sky. There was no hint of jest, just his usual beautiful and quietly reserved elven features. "Not while I breathe", he vowed quietly. Realizing that Eiri was still holding his hand, he traced a protection spell across its back, just in case. "You should tell me what your father might actually try", he prompted. "In case you need protection."

"One thing at a time, love", Eiri replied softly. "Now I want to gather what courage I can to meet your family." Reluctantly, Rowan accepted that need and they spent the rest of the carriage ride in silence. 

An hour later, in the twilight just after sunset, Rowan stood on the steps of his lavish childhood home on the outer edge of Embrim's Human Noble's Quarters. The stone facade is festooned with Solstice decor, a wreath of evergreen branches and silver silk bands hangs on the deep red door. A familiar mix of anticipation and comfort filled Rowan, coming home might be one of the best feelings in the world. "Ready", he asked Eiri, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle on his lover's travelling cloak. Not waiting for a reply, he knocked at the door. 

The door opened, and the pair on the steps got a moment's glimpse of Madame Norha, the Glaros' family housekeeper, before they were greeted by two large, white dogs, demanding immediate attention from their returning master. Tails wagging, the two large Reutervitian Shepherds tried their best to jump up on Rowan, sniffing packs and entangling themselves in his cloak. Laughing, Rowan cries out; "Frost! Storm! Get down, you magnificent beasts." Rowan gave them both a good scratch, glancing over at Eiri. The elf looked a little taken aback and apprehensive, but also quite amused. 

"Madame Norha", Rowan grinned, observing the housekeeper's mixed look of disapproval and fond tolerance. "Welcome home, Master Rowan", she said, stepping aside to make room for them to come inside. "All well here? Everybody home", Rowan asked, shooing the dogs inside, pulling Eiri and their packs in behind them. "All is well", Madame Norha nodded, giving Eiri a scrutinizing look as he entered. "Your Lady Mother is busy planning next week's Solstice Feast and entertaining your sister's baby at the same time, and your Lord Father hasn't left his study since Lord Harmod arrived with some astrological charts or other three days ago. Alissa is resting after a bout of the flu and Kara, Wil, and Sari are, as usual, nowhere to be seen unless there is food."

Jag ska läsa texterna du lägger upp med stort nöje, men tycker alltid det är lite läskigt att kommentera det andra har skrivit, så vi får se om jag delar med mig av mina tankar eller ej. Oavsett så är det kul att få läsa och jag tyckte mycket om den förra texten! 🤩

Why, thank you =) Och ha så kul med läsningen. Eller, ja... "kul".... Men du fattar vad jag menar....

Hej Aniiee, jag har skickat ett PM till dig.

Förlåt förlåt, off topic. 

Ok, jag känner att måste byta tillbaka tempus..... Jag började uppenbarligen på ett, bytte (tanklöst).... Men det är ju detta first drafts är till för... suck....

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Rowan chuckles. "Some things never change", he muses. Then he turns to Eiri. "Let's go to my room, settle in and freshen up. Father's study is on the way, so if you don't mind, we'll drop in on him, just briefly."

"I'll have your things brought up", Madame Norha puts in. "The family has already had dinner, so I'll send up some tea as well."

"Thank you", Rowan smiles. "Make sure it's hot. Eiri is, as always, colder than is wise."

Then Rowan leads Eiri up the stairs and through a warren of corridors. Eiri can feel the warmth of family and life, and protective spells. The people who live here care for each other. The corridors are decorated for the Solstice. The dogs are padding along behind them. It feels like a home.

The door to Rowan's father's study is open. Inside, two men stand by a large desk, pouring over papers. The room smells like old books, ink, candle wax, and tobacco. Rowan gives the door frame a sharp rap.
"Father", he beams, walking in unprompted. 
"There he is", Rowan's father exclaims, looking up. "The prodigal son returns at last!" He turns to his companion. "Harmod, you remember my eldest, Rowan? I think you only met the one time, just before he left to see the world." 
Harmod rounds the desk and offers Rowan his hand in greeting with a warm smile.
"Your father speaks so highly of you that one might believe that you were sent by the gods themselves", he says as they shake hands. "And you didn't come home alone." Both older men look curiously at Eiri.

Rowan grabs Eiri and pulls him forward. "Father, meet my partner, Eiri Koris", he says in a jovial but finite tone. "Eiri, this is my father,Lord Terran Glaros, and Lord Harmod Seths." Eiri gives them a small bow. "It's an honor", he says. Rowan, scrutinizing his father's face for his reaction, is dismayed. Lord Terran, and Lord Harmod, look confused. Just as he is about to make an argument for his choice, his father exclaims: "Eiri Koris? I thought you died. 10 years ago."

The study goes very still. Even the dogs seem to realize the gravitas of Lord Terran's words. Rowan can feel the subtle currents that are life's magic that permeate the room, and his lover's heartbeat through their hands, his still holding Eiri's. "Father", he says slowly, voice tense. "What do you mean?"

"I don't have a lot of connections to the elves of this city", Lord Harmod puts in. "But they made a big deal of it. The Elfhome Gate, the temple grounds, and the Noble's Street were covered in black mourning cloth for months. The City Cathedral held a week-long vigil."

Rowan turns and stares at Eiri, head swimming. Surely this must be some kind of mistake. There must be another elf of the same name in the city. "Eiri", he begins, but then, he realizes that Eiri has gone beyond pale.

Jag har en liten lust att leka lite med AI igen. Låta AIn spela en karaktär, hitta på någon historia.....

Någon som har ett uppslag/idé?

Två små röda uvor och en fårskinnsfäll
skumpar runt omkring, skumpar runt omkring
Gubbarna i stubbarna sa ingenting
men de tissla, tassla runtomkring

Vi ska plocka kottar till vår spiselhäll
Hela säcken full, det blir kallt ikväll
Mössen dansar runt med sina mössor på
De är sams med katten, närapå

10 berättelser jag har i ett dokument som heter "Everything I've ever written" (ett namn som inte stämmer på långa vägar):
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1
Alex lever i en framtid där musik inte har text. Han, hans kusin och några vänner är ändock musiker, och Alex är väl vad vi skulle kalla the party guy. Alex har en "neural plug", dvs han kan koppla sin hjärna direkt till internet (ty, Tad Williams). I just den här berättelsen möter han för första gången Kevin.
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2
Fanfiction på Nightrunners. Faynriel och Kailan måste fly från Aura's Peak, då magimästarna där vill döda Faynriel. De flyr till Faynriels familj.
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3
Zidane och Kuja (inte de från FFIX, namnen är en total slump) firar jul. I början är det "nutid", då de är runt 40 och hemma med sina barn, sen flashback till dem som hemlösa tonåringar.
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4
Dragon Age 2 fanfic. Christopher Hawke får problem med sin lillebror Gabriel, för självklart blir det problem med magiker i en stad där magi är förbjudet.
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5
Dragon Age Origins fanfic. Nimriel, Fereldens hjälte som stoppade den femte ärkedemonen, dog i det sista slaget. Han hedrades stort och kroppen sändes till Weisshaupt för att vila med de fyra tidigare hjältarna. Hans familj, hans vänner och hans älskare är i sorg. Nu, tre månader senare, har han vaknat.
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6
Issä är magiker, Faye är trubadur. De lever i ett land där magi och homosexualitet är strikt förbjudet. Nu ligger Issä i en cell och Faye står framför en kung.
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7
Mass Effect fanfic. The Reapers är besegrade och jakten på en förhoppningsvis levande Shepard börjar.
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8
Kana är en vampyr. Han har levt i drygt 200 år. När han var 5 år invaderades jorden av rymdvarelser, och jordens folk splitrades mellan de som stöttade rymdvarelserna och de som kämpade emot dem. Kana har under årens lopp byggt upp en motståndsrörelse. De senaste ca 100 åren har han haft sällskap av Sora, och de senaste 5 åren även Aito. Aito är dcok en levande människa, och Kana försöker hålla honom utanför.
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9
En riktigt konstig hs/uni-verse pan-Final Fantasy fanfic med Sephiroth i centrum.
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10
Rikku är Döden. Eller, ja, en av många som hämtar själar när de dör. Han rekruterades när han själv dog i en motorcykelolycka, som också skadade hans pojkvän Jin. Nu är Jin också död.

Lagt en rad på ATG idag, och till nyår. Inte något stort, bara en femtilapp var. Jag skulle inte ha något emot att vinna en tia. Eller en femtilapp så jag kan göra en till.

Håller tummarna för mig själv.

Ibland fastnar man i en loop och vinner pengar till en ny lott flera gånger på raken. Det är spännande, men det brukar sluta med en nitlott. Håller också tummarna för dig!

0 rätt

Bättre lycka nästa gång! 🍀

After a long moment, Asriel slipped out of Lucanis' embrace and sank down on his bed. He looked drained, defeated, pale. The austere, gray coat with red and silver detailing looked ruffled and too big for him, as if he had diminished. A thought struck Lucanis. 
"Love", he said softly, his tone was that of someone trying not to scare off a cat. "When last did you eat?"
Asriel didn't respond. Maybe he didn't even hear. Lucanis crouched down in front of him, grabbing his chin, scrutinizing his face. So pale. So very tired. 
"Stay", he ordered. 

When Lucanis returned Asriel was still sitting on the edge of the bed, slouched, his head hanging. 
"I found you some things to eat", Lucanis prompted gently.
Asriel undid his coat, pulled it off, and tossed it across the room. His white shirt is wide and much more comfortable. 
"I don't feel like eating", he sighed. "But I know you won't take no for an answer." He picked up a spiced nut from a small bowl and bit it in half. Slowly chewing, he let the warmth of the spices and the presence of Lucanis, sitting down beside him, give him comfort. A couple of nuts, some bread, and a sip of weak, honeyed wine later, he gives his lover a sheepish grin. "I bet you didn't think two years ago that you would sit and fuss over a sad elf in the Fade", he said. "What would your grandmother say if she knew of this? At least you have a grandmother who can have opinions."

Lucanis turned that question, and implications of Asriel's way of asking it, over in his head. He hadn't known earlier today... yesterday?... that Asriel had lost his parents young. Implying he also didn't have grandparents hurt Lucanis more than he cared for. Who had this elf had in his life? Who had he relied on before they met? The heart-aching answer was "no one". He wished there was a lighter one.
"Caterina is First Talon off house Dellamorte", Lucanis replied finally. "If she doesn't know I'd be surprised, and if she does, she hasn't said anything. At least not yet."