titsay
if i look back, i am lost
Janaina Medeiros
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Cosimo Galluzzi
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JVL
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DEAR READER
Sweet Seals For You, Always
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
trying on a metaphor
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@aethelandtata
Me: oh, look! Solar caravan is back! I should make a little piece of art in memory of Aethel and Tata! I won't participate, but maybe a small sketch!
Me twenty minutes later: okay but what if Aethel died and her snake Tata found a new companion who found himself on the 2021 caravan!?!?!?
[Sketch]
When I am an old ladie I hope I am pretty with kind eyes and long ashen hair ..and always wear long skirts and speak sweetly and am witch-like and wise ..
The wind had begun to blow, setting sand against canvas and cloth and bare skin.
Hat tipped forwards, the Merchant beat his way back to his tent, holding the cloth around his face tight to keep out the rising bite of the desert gale. Fiddling with the tent fastening, he managed to pry the flap open and pull himself into the safer climate of the tent. It was a large tent, pavilion style, with curtains running along the taught ropes that criss-crossed in the ceiling, allowing him to reshape the interior into many different divided rooms, if he so desired.
He took off his hat, and flung it onto his sleeping mat, which he veiled from view with a curtain, transforming the open tent into a living space, so that he might entertain any erstwhile guests who had to seek shelter from the teeth of the sand. And indeed, no sooner had he breathed a spark into his lantern, was the flap drawn back again, and a fellow caravaneer apologetically stumbled into the ring of light, hurriedly attending to the urgent matter of shutting it again. He’d seen her before, with her eyes full of the night sky, and wrinkles full of wise thoughts. The serpent, green as the deep forest, was tucked inside her clothes, such was the lashing of the storm outside.
He bade her sit, as he did, on a cushion by the brave lamp. The Merchant began fastening a kettle to the top of the lamp, filling it with spiced water, and inquired if the lady would like some tea, and if so, would the snake partake?
Aethel had not expected to wander into the Dream Trader’s tent. It was the unfortunate truth that she had been avoiding him as of late, wary towards their trade. Dreams were a fickle thing, an important thing. She couldn’t imagine losing hers, or experiencing another’s.
But Aethel was never one to reject a cup of tea, and cradled the mug in her hands lovingly. Tata was quite adverse to the idea, horrified and dishonored at the idea of being offered such a beverage. Aethel laughed it off.
“You know, I don’t quite know when he eats.” She said in a voice worn away by the years, “I just don’t know when he has the time for it. The poor dear sits on my shoulders day and night, and well you’re not going to find me scurrying around for rodents,” her laugh was light, crackling like the wood of a roaring fire.
The two spoke of their adventures for quite some time. Aethel spoke fondly of a story from when she was much younger.
“I am sure my face had much less character in those days, and I am terribly afraid I did not know how to properly accessorize. But my heart was as wild as it has always been, and I found myself wandering in what was wildly noted as ‘the bad part of town’” her wrinkled fingers quoted long forgotten individuals, “I was simply looking for a good blade, as a young woman does, and heard tales of a shop that sounded perfect.”
At this moment she took a long sip of her tea, grinning into the cup, “some poor kids tried to mug us, hells, maybe they would have done more given the chance. Dear Tata here, yes you love,” she grinned towards him, “must have done the boys quite a fright, as the next thing you know I hear metal on cobblestone and the quick retreat of silly boys. I got three knives that day,” she grinned again, lightly praising an ever grumpy Tata.
More stories were exchanged, and more tea was had.
“Now I must admit, I am quite unfamiliar with your trade. How does one trade a dream?”
Like any good question, there are three good answers. The first is simply “willingly”. The second, and far more helpful, is that you cannot take a dream that the dreamer wants taken away. Any measure of desire, no matter how deep or shallow it may be, is enough to help shake it free. Getting it out of a head is a secret, one bled for. But he added that it involves spices.
Some spices make a tongue feel like fire. This is known. Others may make the eyes see colour or the ear hear a bell. This is less known. To give a dream to someone, he said, it is bottled with spice and taken by the dreamer. There was a brief pause as he drank the tea, warmth re-kindling in his belly. To take a dream and to give one are two different arts, but the spices are key to both.
The third answer is that he weaves a net, like a spider, and snares the dream that needs to be gone, for then he breaks it down as one would an old piece of furniture to be resold.
Each one is not entirely true but not false, either. He drifted off a little, lost somewhat in the starbound eyes of the old woman. It’s not an easy trade, but then neither is swordwork, and he lacks the clever hands or strong arms for such work. Compliments, however, he was perfectly fine dealing in. But as for yourself, he is at a disadvantage. What was the ladies trade, and indeed purpose on the caravan? It’s not common to see swords or serpents on the road. He left the hook of a question dangling in the air, seeking to reel in a tidbit of knowledge in exchange for that he had just given.
“When you're this old, there's no point in keeping secrets anymore. You figure that you should share as much as you can before you pass, leave some sort of legacy to be remembered.
“But there are parts in everyone's lives that should be left in the past. Parts that are better forgotten.
“My trade was an uncaring one. Puppeteered by the whims of another.”
Aethel’s voice held not the joyous tone of a forever grinning woman. It held the burdens of a long life.
“What matters now, I think, is that Tata and I are here, trying to amend, trying to bring joy to as many as we can, for however long we can...
“Thank you for the tea dear,” she smiles, returning the cup and walking silently out of the tent
Talent show~
A bard starts showing off their musical skill. But now they’re in inviting you to show off yours?! Oh no! Travelers?! What sort of skills shall you show off?!
[ this is for everyone ]
It's a small instrument, a little thing Aethel has been keeping in a pocket. She pulls it out, and plucking the taut strings, plays a intricate song. It tells a story, even without words.
A small village, growing and growing into a mighty kingdom. Prosperity. Love. The music builds and builds. Aethel's fingers pluck quickly, and with mastery. The kingdom is lost, said the strings, forgotten. Perhaps the culprit was war, famine, both. Only a few remain.
And then the strings tell it's own tale. An instrument that can tell a story, forged by the few survivors of a forgotten kingdom. A gift to a woman and her snake. A request: share our story, and make your own with my taut strings.
After the song, Aethel sheepishly explains that most praise should be pointed towards the instrument, and not her humble fingers. Still she smiles.
I like this version much better :)
The wind had begun to blow, setting sand against canvas and cloth and bare skin.
Hat tipped forwards, the Merchant beat his way back to his tent, holding the cloth around his face tight to keep out the rising bite of the desert gale. Fiddling with the tent fastening, he managed to pry the flap open and pull himself into the safer climate of the tent. It was a large tent, pavilion style, with curtains running along the taught ropes that criss-crossed in the ceiling, allowing him to reshape the interior into many different divided rooms, if he so desired.
He took off his hat, and flung it onto his sleeping mat, which he veiled from view with a curtain, transforming the open tent into a living space, so that he might entertain any erstwhile guests who had to seek shelter from the teeth of the sand. And indeed, no sooner had he breathed a spark into his lantern, was the flap drawn back again, and a fellow caravaneer apologetically stumbled into the ring of light, hurriedly attending to the urgent matter of shutting it again. He’d seen her before, with her eyes full of the night sky, and wrinkles full of wise thoughts. The serpent, green as the deep forest, was tucked inside her clothes, such was the lashing of the storm outside.
He bade her sit, as he did, on a cushion by the brave lamp. The Merchant began fastening a kettle to the top of the lamp, filling it with spiced water, and inquired if the lady would like some tea, and if so, would the snake partake?
Aethel had not expected to wander into the Dream Trader’s tent. It was the unfortunate truth that she had been avoiding him as of late, wary towards their trade. Dreams were a fickle thing, an important thing. She couldn't imagine losing hers, or experiencing another's.
But Aethel was never one to reject a cup of tea, and cradled the mug in her hands lovingly. Tata was quite adverse to the idea, horrified and dishonored at the idea of being offered such a beverage. Aethel laughed it off.
“You know, I don't quite know when he eats.” She said in a voice worn away by the years, “I just don't know when he has the time for it. The poor dear sits on my shoulders day and night, and well you're not going to find me scurrying around for rodents,” her laugh was light, crackling like the wood of a roaring fire.
The two spoke of their adventures for quite some time. Aethel spoke fondly of a story from when she was much younger.
“I am sure my face had much less character in those days, and I am terribly afraid I did not know how to properly accessorize. But my heart was as wild as it has always been, and I found myself wandering in what was wildly noted as ‘the bad part of town’” her wrinkled fingers quoted long forgotten individuals, “I was simply looking for a good blade, as a young woman does, and heard tales of a shop that sounded perfect.”
At this moment she took a long sip of her tea, grinning into the cup, “some poor kids tried to mug us, hells, maybe they would have done more given the chance. Dear Tata here, yes you love,” she grinned towards him, “must have done the boys quite a fright, as the next thing you know I hear metal on cobblestone and the quick retreat of silly boys. I got three knives that day,” she grinned again, lightly praising an ever grumpy Tata.
More stories were exchanged, and more tea was had.
“Now I must admit, I am quite unfamiliar with your trade. How does one trade a dream?”
Aethel and Tata I drew this on my phone, y'all proud?
Feel Free to Approach Aethel and Tata
Hey just to let yall know you can always start up a prompt with Aethel and Tata. I would love hanging out with you guys so feel free to write a snippet of your characters approaching mine and I will respond with enthusiasm and haste! Love y'all!
Bush Viper
Atheris chlorechis
Gaboon Viper Bitis gabonica
Source: lovingexotics
Sri Lankan Palm Pit Viper
Trimeresurus trigonocephalus
Alright, I'm about ready to write Sparkles's first day. She would want to stay with Prax, if he offered, and probably just hang around with him quietly... She's feeling a bit lost, and he's so friendly and nonthreatening, she might just follow him around like a puppy. Any ideas on how that would work? Can he be bunnied for that purpose?
No they can’t be used in that sense. But you can start a prompt and I can respond with what Prax would do. I can say they would let her stay close. But he would also be working with other people through out the day as well. That is not to say they wouldn’t try to help her relax.
Could you explain what you mean by "bunnied"?
Aethel and Tata made their rounds early during the trip. As the cool breeze of a desert night rose, travelers settled down for the night, setting up mats and small tents for rest. A fire blazed softly, carts and caravans surrounding the flames loosely, forming a circle of security for the night.
According to the quiet gossip Aethel considered herself lucky enough to hear, a dream trader accompanied them on this magical journey. They have not yet offered their name to the other travelers, or anything but their trade, for that matter. Perhaps that was a day two escapade.
Electing for an easier task, Aethel moved to a small child and her protector. It was a marvel to see her walk, an old blind woman waddling with purpose to exactly where she needed to be. Tata curled grumpily around her frail shoulders, thin and long in form, as to not weaken his Aethel.
It was then a small child leaped out from behind her tall protector. Scio and Vella. Vella, the young one, spoke fast and with wonderment. Aethel, on the other hand, spoke slow and with wonderment. The two quickly hit it off, Tata moping all the while.
It was only when Aethel reached in one of her pouches that she took pause. Slowly, she pulled out a two small candies, gripping them tightly in her hands.
“Scio, was it?” she questioned with genuine eyes. They did not respond in any way Aethel could comprehend. Perhaps they did not respond at all. Nevertheless, she held her hand out to them, offering the candies.
“One for her,” she paused, “And one for you of course.” With Aethel’s arm outstretched, Tata slithered down the limb, getting a slow, long look at the four-armed being. With a huff, they begrudgingly accepted the being’s existence, traveling back up the arm to rest. Perhaps the late hours made Tata more kind. Aethel doubted it, now even more curious about the tall Scio.
She felt a hand take the candies, but does not know whether Vella got a taste, diving deep into a story of Aethel and Tata exploring a far off jungle. The night was, in Aethel’s mind, a success.
They cute ngl Bio: Tata Pronouns: depending on the form, because their sex changes, Tata’s pronouns change. At the end of the day however, they are a snake, and don’t really care. He/they is usually safe, but then again - snake. Age: Unknown Personality: while Tata’s age is unknown, he sure acts like a teenager. His temperament is vicious around strangers, and trusts no one with his dear Aethel. He also gets jealous when anyone but him gets her affection, usually resorting to pouting in a small pocket on Aethel’s breast. Mystical Aspect: Tata can transform into other forms/snakes. These changes can be color based, species based, or size based. He appears to change based on instinct alone, and is believed to be only slightly more intelligent than the average snake. Such a theory has not yet been proved or disproved. TLDR: Tata is the snake companion of Aethel, an old blind woman. He can transform into other snakes, as is very protective of his traveling partner
So still refining Aethel (aka I hate her rn and don't know how to draw old people) but I like her eye to the left and feel like it gives off the galaxy vibe I'm going for
