Does anyone have any idea WTF this symbol is on this Frankfurt headstone??? I think it might be a fish trap of some kind but as a 21st century Ugly American, what the fuck do I know. The inscription is hard to make out thanks to image quality/weathering but I definitely see a tsade and a vav which would form the Yiddish root for "trouble" or "problems," which more literally derives from the Hebrew root for a narrowing/constricting of something. So a fish trap would make sense contextually. Or else this guy died in a tragic medieval torpedo accident.
I found it! It belongs to Lƶb ben Ascher Anschel Schuh [died 22.3.1705].
You can find the full inscription and a black and white image here: https://www.steinheim-institut.de/cgi-bin/epidat?id=ffb-0069
Unfortunately I don't speak Yiddish, so I can't help with the translation, but the site above seems to have everything transcribed.
The 'housemark' is a fish trap, and refers to the house he lived in, Haus Reuse (Fishtrap House): https://metahubfrankfurt.de/jmf/locations/haus-reuse/ (Today the lot is partially that of An der Staufenmauer 7 Frankfurt). I might be mixing some people up, but I think he got mixed up in a power struggle (Drach-Kannsche Wirren) and had to leave Frankfurt for ten years and go to Speyer, but then returned to live at that home and died respected.
"A good day to you both.", Tege says pleasantly, hoping that from the way he holds himself and his sword it is very, very clear that he is ready to make their day bad indeed, should they try their luck with him, and as such it would be best for them to turn around and leave them in peace.
The two do stop, startled. Their frightened gazes flit between the blade glinting in the weak winter light and his face, that scar of his running from temple to chin useful for once.
"Wait!", Mush says breathlessly, practically leaping over to his side from behind him in alarm, grabbing onto his non-wielding wrist. He looks up at him with a frightened expression, "Please."
Before Tege can reassure him he would never hurt common folk unprovoked, even if his chivalry was indeed chinked when his temper got the better of him at the farrier (to see Mush so distraught by whatever they were discussing made him irrational, yes), the older stranger exclaims with relief, "Roo-roo! Thank God!"
He watches a blush spread across Mush's cheeks, beautiful even in his rumpled state.
It steals the breath from his lungs.
Who is this man, allowed to speak endearments and nicknames?! He does his best not to feel like he has been struck in the face when Mush swiftly lets go of his wrist, looking away, and reminds himself that he had declared nothing of his wants to him; not the way he longs for a chance to kiss his hand, nor how he wishes to forever stay by his side, and swallows the jealousy.
"Ozzy.", the root of his heart grits, "Yancy."
"Roo-Roo?!", Fenenna chokes quietly behind him, like she can't believe her ears, stifling giggles. Her hand snakes into her master's and Tege glances down to see her staring with unashamed curiosity and amusement at the scene.
Is this the man whose love letters she had spoken of, the ones in her 'hoard'?
WIP Wednesday fills for June 2nd and July 8th , kakairu star trek AU
Thank you everyone for prompting me! Fills for @eriquin, @whimsicalmeerkat, @meggiejolly, @wizisbored, and @kallisto-k. First paragraph is from last time, just for coherence's sake.
Alright, now he has to be doing it on purpose, making Iruka take a step back on instinct, bumping up against the force fields. He wishes he still had his phaser on him like he used to on Uzuāshio, where everyone openly carried weaponry against lethal megafauna - that was like the one good and sensible thing about the whole place -, but stupid ship regulations and safety in space and whatever had him stash it under his mattress instead of wearing it sensibly on his belt, "Oh?"
The Commander leans lazily against the wall, mismatched eyes trained on him with an odd intensity, "You've been giving advice to my charge about me."
The Starfleet uniform doesn't come with a belt either, so actually, he is back at griping about the pockets. Women were crying about the lack of them for hundreds of years, and what did they do in the future? They took them away from everyone! Absurd, they should be decked out with pouches and secret pockets and, like, vests at the minimum. Star farts, how he hates these clothes.
"Teachers do tend to try and teach, Commander. Sometimes, that means helping children navigate things that confuse them.", Iruka says evenly, resisting the urge to cross his arms in front of himself. "Like why they feel neglected by their guardians."
Ah, by the cosmic abyss, he just moved the date of his own untimely demise up to today, hasn't he? At least that's his definite impression from the way his superior officer suddenly pulls himself out and comes towards him, head tilted and grey eyebrows pinched, but surely, even a someone of his rank can't get away with tearing him to shreds with his bare hands while stuck inside the shafts; but then again, the man is a verified genius and he has seen him think outside of the box more than once, so who knows, he just might make it work for Iruka's sake. He probably had five contingency plans in that big brain of his already set up by the first step.
Commander Hatake leans in, barely any distance between them.
"I do not neglect Sasuke."
Yet the tone of that murmur is much more sad and not angry at all, despite his expectations, and that throws Iruka for the loop again; it's a surprise which should really be unsurprising, given how much the Commander keeps on, well, surprising him all the time. He is generally much better at reading people, he swears. Maybe it's the eyes. They are sort of hypnotizing, in a totally not I-have-a-huge-crush-on-you-please-notice-me-senpai way. Pfft. He hasn't had a crush since the Betazoid Cupcake Debacle at sixteen.
Thank you to @auburnlaughter @denizenhardwick @meggiejolly @inevitablyuncertain @kallisto-k @aparticularbandit @stonemaskedtaliesin @tamsinswriting for making me write! I basically wrote this and then reworked this whole scene two times because of you prompting, but now I'm actually satisfied with it and although it's more than the allotted sentences, since it all came from the same impetus, please have my humble offering. I've been so slow that it basically continues on from last week's fill, uh.
He sneaks out at the break of dawn for his rounds and to clean up the mess from the ritual. After all, he is the Warden of the Deep Forest, solitary and villainous, he isn't going to lay sniffling in bed, or spend the day watching television, eating two whole slices of the apple pie his stupid knight had made him yesterday, with his apprentice snuggled into his side while reading 'The Proper Application of Letters and Numbers in Spellwork'. Absolutely not, that doesn't sound fantastic at all.
He shivers, spreading some of the spent hay from the stables over the remains of the circles. In the light of day, his failure at unravelling the malison feels even more crushing; that idiot will go back into the fray blind because Mush couldn't manage to see behind the knots, and with his leg mangled and aching because Mush doesn't know how to heal properly. Useless, useless, useless.
"Ya ought be in bed.", Otto grumbles, ambling up behind him. Mush huffs, and pushes the mule's head away without thinking, keeping him from his usual nibbling on his cape.
It's not that he disagrees; the years really do keep coming and he is so not twenty any more, head full of cotton and everything aching after just a single night of doing ancient magic in the moonlight, so if he could get this done quickly, walk the smallest perimeter he has ever walked and then just lie down under his desk, pretending he does not exist, that would be great. Failure of a man as he is, he even brewed his cold remedy too weak, still too hot under the collar and his breath still coming short, something unsettled within him.
He breaks the first pitchfork on his knee, chucking it into the wheelbarrow.
"For once, the old mule and I are in agreement.", Luca neighs loudly, blocking him from getting the other one with her huge body; she is one of the largest destriers he has ever had the fortune of meeting, positively gigantic in fact, all pure muscle fit to carry a knight of Sepsem's stature in full armour, so Mush, being lean (not thin, as Mother likes to say) and but a human man, is easily hindered by her efforts. "My darling little boy won't be happy to see you up and about in this state, I can assure you."
"That darling little boy is in his forties.", he tries to sidestep with a grunt.
"That matters not. He will always be that sweet little young boy to me, no matter the years...! I knew the moment I saw him that he'd make a most magnificent valet, so I choose him, yes.", she sighs, shaking her grey mane to and fro, "Of course, as such, I am responsible for his well-being and happiness, so I must insist, my dear shaman, that you take better care of yourself!"
Guilt sits heavily in his heart as he combs a hand through his messy brown hair, the roots feeling damp; it shouldn't matter to someone like Sir Tege Sepsem if someone unimportant like Mush sits in the snow, having failed at discovering who cast the curse that tried to kill such a good, gentle man, "How long ago was that?"
"Mush, don'cha be cheeky! Ya ne'er ask a mare 'er age!", Otto pushes up against him with a disapproving glare, like he wants him to lean onto his bulk, or maybe just push him towards the house, and he tries to ignore the gnawing feeling between his ribs that doesn't feel like a cold at all.
"Master! Master, what are you doing?", Fenenna's voice echoes suddenly across the field, and he and the two four-legged elders turn their heads to see his little apprentice make a beeline for them with Sepsem slowly limping behind her, kicking at the melting snow as he goes. "Is that what I think it is?! Ooooh, Uncle is right, we so need to punish you, you dummy!"
Something shifts in his guts, but he pays it no heed, uses the distraction she provides to quickly walk past the equines, yanking the other pitchfork out of the frozen ground; Otto brays at him in annoyance once he sees what he has done, and fine, he is a bit more winded than he'd normally be, and maybe he breaks the fork with leaden arms and barely manages to throw the pieces in with the other, but he is not sick. Nope.
"I can't believe you, Master! So you didn't wake me up, fine!", Fenenna cries as she makes it up to them, throwing her hands up in the air before grabbing the uncontaminated, good pitchfork out of his hands to finish spreading the hay out onto the burned off letters, "But I'm supposed to do things like clean up and stuff, like Beata always does for Mistress Mildred, that's what apprentices do, you know! They help!"
Sepsem finally catches up, petting Luca affectionately when she presses her muzzle to his face in a fond greeting, nickering. Mush closes his eyes, trying to quell his sudden nausea as he remembers things he doesn't want to about being an apprentice helping out, an ache beginning to radiate up from the small of his back.
The pain climbs up along his spine and whispers in his ear; there is no need for their help, it drips, drips, drips, for your Fenenna will grow bored of you when she understands how little you know, for tomorrow your Tege will leave you behind for the sake of others more important, yes, yes, yes, won't they, and then where will you be? Oh, oh, oh, you don't want to be alone again like you were before, solitary, solitary, lonely, it says, and Mush's heartbeat drums in his ears and drowns everything else out, you don't want any of that to happen, you want to hold them back with both arms, hungry for more of their love, selfish, selfish, selfish, so isn't it a good thing that villains can take what they want and that you are rotten to your core, you villain, you?
Mush muffles a scream behind his hands as he realises he hadn't cleared that last layer of the curse after all.
The sudden crushing weight in his chest as the malison blooms into being overwhelms him for a moment, sends him to his knees with a cry of pain. By God's bones, this is going to kill him, this loneliness will carve him hollow, he'll die alone and miserable unless - no. No! He pants, knuckles white where he fists his own clothes, hair sticking to his neck, slick with sweat as he wrestles back control. No, this thing, it won't have Fenenna, and it won't have Tege. Mush will sooner die then hurt them with this.
This curse has found a purchase in his heart, that was his first mistake. His second was discovering it too late, and now his magic is too oppressed to work against it and unravel the knot it has made in him. He needs to fortify himself, somehow.
He yelps in fright when two strong hands grip his wrists, yanking him out of his spellwork. Mush's hand twitches, like it wishes to be linked and held despite all that his head knows about the distance between them, between this wonderful kind knight and him, a simple civis, and his lungs suddenly burn with the cold, the curse purring. He screws his eyes shut, trying to focus once more on countering it, on denying it access to those he holds so dear. They are not here, he is alone.
"Master? What's happening?!", he ignores the feeling of Fenenna's gentle touch on his shoulder, the way one of Sepsem's large hands comes to rest right over Mush's forehead; tries to imagine himself sitting among the Elder rocks of the castle ruins, just like when he was a boy, listening to their stories instead. They were his first teachers, who used to tell him tales of times long past, from when the castle still stood and from before it, of the magic they've seen woven, of glory, of love; from them he learned how to ask for favours and how to prepare for rituals, how to climb that great tree and how to converse with all manner of things.
"My teeth!", he gasps, eyes flying open. He staggers to his feet, the malison roaring in him, and he digs his fingernails into his palms, anchoring himself on the pain. He hisses through his gritted teeth, "I need... I need to go back to the ruins by Daleburh and get..."
"You are not in condition to travel!", Tege... Sepsem, - Sir Tege Sepsem gasps, gripping his hands now to keep him from drawing blood, his green eyes wide with concern as he stays kneeling in front of him. "You are feverish, my friend. Come, back to bed with you. We will finish taking care of these two, do not worry."
Mush knows he has a day or two at most, before he loses control and the curse escapes his body and devours all of them. Unless he uses one of his milk teeth, buried among the ruins, to overcome this horrible thing intent on snuffing him out. Either way, it won't win, he'll make sure of that.
"Then kill me now, or I do it myself!", he growls.
Fenenna - the princess - her majesty jumps back, like he has struck her, face pale and hands over her heart, leaning on to... to the horse, who stares at him in alarm like she understood what was being said. Sir Tege Sepsem - the knight blinks up at him with a carefully blank expression, but squeezes his hands so tightly like he won't ever let them go, not for anything in the world, and Mush's heart feels like it wants to jump out of his throat, the oppressive heat of the curse pressing itself onto his body, leaving his breath ragged and his body trembling.
"The curse.", he manages to say in way of explanation, shutting his eyes again as his head begins to pound, the need to be cared for tearing at his guts. He should let go of the knight. He needs to.
The knight rises to his feet, his tone steady but a tremor to his hands that Mush can feel, "Pack provisions, my princess, and I will ready Luca and the mule. We shall ride within the hour."
Iām begging of you please donāt take my cat āŖ
Please donāt take her just because you can ā«
She talks about you in her sleepā
Thereās nothing I can do to keep āŖ
From crying when she calls, Poldine,
And I can easily understand
How you could easily take my cat ā«
You could have your choice of cats š¶
Poldine, Poldine ā«
Poldine, Poldiiine
Iām begging of you please donāt take my cat ā«
Thank you for watching Poldine & The Catsā first music video! No cats were harmed in the making of this clip, but two were mortified and one had her fur ruffled in the wrong direction by clumsy baby llama kisses.
WIP Wednesday sentences, Mush just wants to watch his shows
Thank you for prompting me, @auburnlaughter @kallisto-k @kalira @meggiejolly @eriquin @aparticularbandit @phantom-z0ne!
The next night, when the full moon is almost at its zenith, Mush asks one of the light spirits to come to him and help him get to the mud room. Sleepily, it flies to rest atop his head, glowing with a gentle red light while he sneaks out, hoping not to wake Sepsem as he puts his boots and coat on, body feeling uncomfortable, hot and itchy from the brew he had drank in preparation that evening. The curse feels heavy in the satchel as he puts it on his shoulder, and he lifts the spirit out from his hair, thanks it with a gentle stroke along its back and sends it flying sluggishly to its nest.
The cold is refreshing as it seeps under his clothes when he steps out into the night. Snow crunching underneath his feet and guided by the light of the full moon, he quickly makes his way towards the circles of magic he had prepared a good distance from the house. He manages to get the fire started with the stuffing from Tege's old pillow despite his numbing hands, then walks once more through to control the letters, making sure the new pitchforks he had bought at the north and the south ends are firmly planted into the frozen ground and will catch anything that might make it out. It's as good as he can do, with his slapdash knowledge of magic.
With a final deep breath, he takes out the ward and flings the bag and his outer layers onto the ground outside, the malison prickling in his hands. It practically screeches when he throws it into the fire, a horrid black cloud of smoke exploding out of the flames, engulfing him completely; his body tells him to run away from what feels like death itself, but he rolls his shoulders and opens his mouth instead. This is the part he hates.
The fumes retract into him. (They taste absolutely disgusting.) He clasps a hand over his mouth, and the circles catch on fire for a second, bright like lightning - and then it's all gone; the paint, the fire, even the treeline and his house have vanished, leaving him standing in a barren landscape.
Only him and the moonlight remain, and this heavy, murderous intent swirling around in his insides, trying to find purchase in any part of him.
He keeps his eyes on the sky as he works.
First breath in. An almost juvenile desperate need to please, frightening in its simplicity, settles and evens out. First breath out.
Second breath in. A fervour and unquestioning loyalty that is blind opens its eyes. Second breath out.
Third breath in. Suspicion cracks like a whip, well-used and harder to break, but it folds. Third breath out.
Fourth breath in. There is envy and resentment, splintering apart. Feels old. Fourth breath out.
Fifth breath in. Anger burns itself out without much help from him. It will come again, it says; there is always someone to be angry with. Fifth breath out.
Sixth breath in. Some sort of twisted love ebbs and flows, tired of the decades but unable to drain until now. Sixth breath out.
Seventh breath in. The pain of it all almost makes him keen, dull and sharp at the same time, too large to hold all at once. Seventh breath out.
(This week's sentences continue from last week.) Thank you for getting me to write, @stonemaskedtaliesin @aparticularbandit @auburnlaughter @kalira @inevitablyuncertain @kallisto-k! I included the extra sentences too, thank you @eriquin!
The face of the woman behind his now closed eyelids will not become clear; she is both young and old, nose hawk-like and snubbed, sharp green eyes and deep-set brown, thin oval-shaped face and a long one with strong cheekbones, and he clutches at his hair trying to make sense of it, but it's like he is seeing double. It just won't align, and he needs to open his mouth and exhale the rest before it chokes him.
He coughs wetly once it's all gone. The snow stains black with it, and he stumbles out of the burned circle, scrubbing at his eyes, dropping to his knees by his bag with a frustrated choke; he rummages around for the small vial with the other potion he had brewed earlier, downing the bitter thing in one go once he finds it. Sweat drips down his nose as he pants, feeling like he has held his breath far too long. He sits there, maybe for only a moment, or maybe an hour, shaking. Is it from the cold or the exertion of breaking through all seven layers? Either way, he has failed, and that's more bitter than anything; it makes breathing so very hard.
"Mush?!", he looks up blearily at Tege in the bright moonlight, surprised at the heavy coat lined with fur being thrown over his shoulders. It smells of him, and he is going to get this expensive thing dirty, drenched as he is, "What have you done?! You'll catch your death! Come, come!", he tries to pull him to his feet, but Mush is too weak to stand, slumping back down. He still hasn't caught his breath.
"It's two women.", he rasps, "I think. But maybe just one. I couldn't... I'm sorry. Sorry."
"That is not of consequence!", Tege says sharply, saying something under his breath in that language Mush wishes he spoke, just so that he could have a facet of him no one else could. What a greedy thought.
He tries to get to his feet, wobbly like a new-born deer, shame and disappointment still weighing him down painfully. Useless, just like his old man always says, and he buckles once more. This time, however, he doesn't end up in the snow; strong arms grip his elbow, hold him up by the waist, and he blindly grips at Tege's soft linen undershirt, leaning onto his steady form, his forehead slumping against his hard shoulder.
"You do this! Alone! Magic I cannot help with, but out in the snow and dark in a single thing is foolishness I can prevent. What if I had not woken?", he scolds, feeling almost scalding hot where they touch after the snow and the chill. Suddenly, he sweeps Mush off his feet with a grunt.
"S-stop, your leg - !"
Tege talks over his words of surprise and protest as he heads with long strides back towards the house, "Would you have stayed until you froze?! Sorry, you say, well be sorry only for that! -"
"- please, I -"
"- Is this the sort of reckless endeavour you undertake when I am not present to put a stop to it?! If it is your wish to have my hair turn grey even more so, you are conducting yourself in the most efficient way."
"- I'm -"
"Months I was gone, and now you weigh nothing, and then go courting illness in such a state! For this, I will punish you with soup, and you will eat two bowls of it, that I swear!"
Tege gives him a sharp look, pushing his back against the door.
"ā¦ sorry.", Mush mumbles, breath finally coming a little easier.
WIP Wednesday sentences, Mush just wants to watch his shows
Thank you for prompting me, @auburnlaughter @kallisto-k @kalira @meggiejolly @eriquin @aparticularbandit @phantom-z0ne!
The next night, when the full moon is almost at its zenith, Mush asks one of the light spirits to come to him and help him get to the mud room. Sleepily, it flies to rest atop his head, glowing with a gentle red light while he sneaks out, hoping not to wake Sepsem as he puts his boots and coat on, body feeling uncomfortable, hot and itchy from the brew he had drank in preparation that evening. The curse feels heavy in the satchel as he puts it on his shoulder, and he lifts the spirit out from his hair, thanks it with a gentle stroke along its back and sends it flying sluggishly to its nest.
The cold is refreshing as it seeps under his clothes when he steps out into the night. Snow crunching underneath his feet and guided by the light of the full moon, he quickly makes his way towards the circles of magic he had prepared a good distance from the house. He manages to get the fire started with the stuffing from Tege's old pillow despite his numbing hands, then walks once more through to control the letters, making sure the new pitchforks he had bought at the north and the south ends are firmly planted into the frozen ground and will catch anything that might make it out. It's as good as he can do, with his slapdash knowledge of magic.
With a final deep breath, he takes out the ward and flings the bag and his outer layers onto the ground outside, the malison prickling in his hands. It practically screeches when he throws it into the fire, a horrid black cloud of smoke exploding out of the flames, engulfing him completely; his body tells him to run away from what feels like death itself, but he rolls his shoulders and opens his mouth instead. This is the part he hates.
The fumes retract into him. (They taste absolutely disgusting.) He clasps a hand over his mouth, and the circles catch on fire for a second, bright like lightning - and then it's all gone; the paint, the fire, even the treeline and his house have vanished, leaving him standing in a barren landscape.
Only him and the moonlight remain, and this heavy, murderous intent swirling around in his insides, trying to find purchase in any part of him.
He keeps his eyes on the sky as he works.
First breath in. An almost juvenile desperate need to please, frightening in its simplicity, settles and evens out. First breath out.
Second breath in. A fervour and unquestioning loyalty that is blind opens its eyes. Second breath out.
Third breath in. Suspicion cracks like a whip, well-used and harder to break, but it folds. Third breath out.
Fourth breath in. There is envy and resentment, splintering apart. Feels old. Fourth breath out.
Fifth breath in. Anger burns itself out without much help from him. It will come again, it says; there is always someone to be angry with. Fifth breath out.
Sixth breath in. Some sort of twisted love ebbs and flows, tired of the decades but unable to drain until now. Sixth breath out.
Seventh breath in. The pain of it all almost makes him keen, dull and sharp at the same time, too large to hold all at once. Seventh breath out.
Helloo came here to tell you how much i love your fics because they wont leave my mind and commenting once was not enough. Cant describe the impact they have on me. Thank you for writing and sharing them with us. <3
Oh my goodness, that is so kind of you, thank you! <3 I'm always so happy to learn my writing brought someone at least a little bit of happiness. (Or, you know, angst, but in a good way, where you chew on the edge of the table and want the blorbos to kiss already.)
Thank you for the prompts, @meggiejolly, @eriquin, @inevitablyuncertain, @twyrewolf and @stonemaskedtaliesin! Here are the sentences.
"You... you're a... a vampire?!"
Henry grunts in response, pulling Kate by her wrist towards the exit of the mausoleum; they are not safe yet and he wishes his assistant would understand that, instead of focusing on this fact.
"But I've seen you walk around in sunlight, and you definitely don't sparkle! ", she argues, digging her heels in and stopping at the bottom of the stairs. "Your favourite food is a fruit salad! Is that a lie?! Have I been cutting you mangos for nothing?!"
"Kate!", he turns to her, annoyed, "I am not that kind of bat, and this is not the right time! She'll be back soon enough, and I can't protect you, so please, move!"
"Well, I'm sorry for not taking the news in stride that my boss is undead."
āIf we donāt hurry, you will end up simply dead.ā, he huffs, yanking her upwards. āAnd you are very hard to replace. Also, I hate holding interviews.ā
She begins to laugh a little hysterically as she stumbles up behind him. āInterviewā¦ withā¦ā
āHilarious.ā, Henry sighs, glad that theyāve cleared the building. Now to get to the car and drive the hell away; they need to barricade themselves until sunrise from her, and then sheāll give up and find another poor human to drink from, like she always does, impatient and fickle.
He is almost running by the time they are in the parking lot. Everywhere he turns his head, he is sure she is there, hunting Kate, ancient form still faster and stronger than him, despite the deep decay it seems to suffer. He all but shoves his poor assistant into the seat, slamming the door shut and scrambling around.
āYouāre really afraid.ā, she breathes in wonder at his shaking hand as it turn on the ignition.
WIP Wednesday fill - Mush just wants to watch his shows
Thank you @kallisto-k, @auburnlaughter, @wizisbored, @aparticularbandit for prompting me! @zyrafowe-sny and @whimsicalmeerkat, thank you as well for prompting Cookbook! Here are the fills.
He gave the silver back, and wrapped the damaged ward with the killing curse swirling threateningly in it into a kerchief to keep it from staining anything else. He has been thinking about how to go about this for days, but now that he has taken a closer look in the light, it's painfully obvious he is ill-equipped for the task. Literally. Ugh.
By the hairy armpits of the saints, he hates shopping. Can't someone just bring the stuff he needs to him, preferably after he ordered it without having to poke his nose out from his home? Without interacting with another human being, preferably? He has a wild imagination, but he is sure other people would likewise appreciate the idea of such a business. Maybe if this whole villain thing doesn't work out, he can give it a go.
"I need to go to town tomorrow.", Mush grumbles as the commercial break comes on, massaging his temples. The curse sits heavily at the edge of his consciousness, even locked away above in his study in the little oak chest. Fenenna puts the brush she has stolen from said room down, the watercolours she has also illegally taken possession of clattering slightly on the ground next to her. "If either of you want to come with."
"She is the farrier's daughter, and she made this for me!", Fenenna beams, pulling up her sleeve to show off a woven bracelet proudly, the kind little girls their age always make each other, "Because we are friends! I made her one too, although I'm not as good at it. Oh! I'll have to take Monika with me."
"Ah. Most wonderful, my princess.", Sepsem says, slight crow's feet appearing as he smiles, watching her adjust the hideous rag doll lovingly as it sits in front of the tiled cockle-stove, apparently there to monitor the creative endeavours. Mush's eyes are drawn back to the paper, and he realises she has been painting circles of power, trying to perfect her forms, "Is there a weaponsmith in town as well?"
"You stay far away from that hack.", he grimaces, suddenly remembering the absolute trash he has seen coming out of that workshop and fearing for the knight's safety. If push came to shove, he'd do a better job fixing the idiot's things, which is saying something, since he hasn't touched an anvil since he was maybe thirteen. Sepsem chuckles, resuming his reading.
They set out early enough the next morning, but by the time they reach the gates of the town, he thoroughly regrets his choice to take them along. Luca, ever the vain steed, will not stop talking about how she hopes the farrier is as good as Otto said, because her nails are something awful right now and if any of her friends saw her like this, she would be mortified, while Fenenna and Sepsem still squabble about the likes and dislikes of her pretend uncle (the man is far too invested in the topic, really), all of which put into sharp relief that he is trying to hide not just a princess, but a damn knight (and his horse) under a whole town's nose, which could work only if his companions wouldn't treat this as a game or a wellness trip. Which they most definitely do. He is so getting executed at the end of this, isn't he?
Of course, once they arrive at the farrier's, his apprentice promptly runs off towards the back without paying them or Mush's sense of impeding doom much heed, increasing his stress levels even further. Playtime is good, she is twelve, he has been over this.
"Warden? Is that - ah, did not see you without big fur missing from your face! Good see you --", Radim grins as they step into the courtyard, obviously having expected him after Fenenna stormed by in search of her friend, but his grin and joke falter when he sees Sepsem come to a stop next to him. He stares for a good long beat, apparently dumbfounded at having met someone as tall as him, until he finally utters in disbelief, "ā¦ and... friend...? Zora, Zora, come quick!"
Mush feels his face burn at the shouts in Toth that follow. Really, he is not that much of a recluse as to label seeing him with another adult a miracle.
everyone in the notes we are all holding hands. everyone who hasnt worked on a wip in weeks or months or years, its okay. we are going slow but we are going
omg i had the longest week and almost gave up on this drawing. this ones pretty silly and idk if it really counts as a pinup? the 50s were crazy what can i say
