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Haven’t been feeling well, so my skincare has been slacking!! Time to boost it with this Grapefruit and Jojoba mask from @formula1006us !!! I use a mask brush from @modabrush to apply it!! My skin feels so fresh and so clean!!!! Thank you @formula1006us for sending me this amazing mask!! #skincare #mask #gcxbabies #ultimatesss #breakingbeauty #bangyourhead #pr #complimentary #grateful #blessed https://www.instagram.com/p/Bt1lpyZFiti/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1ja65y30s7l2h
#Repost @wetnwildbeauty with @get_repost ・・・ Celebrating @ash_kholm today! She is an incredibly talented celebrity makeup artist and one of our 12 faces of #BreakingBeauty 2019. 😍 Ever since Ashley was a young girl she knew she had a passion for makeup and the beauty industry. She believes all different shapes, sizes, and colors should be celebrated and looks forward to a future industry that aligns with her love for its growth so far! Ashley is confident that we'll see many more collaborations and creative synergy as brands who are unrelated, and even competitive, come together to release new and exciting innovations. 🙌💄 Comment with ❤️️ if Ashley is an inspiration to you! #wetnwildbeauty #crueltyfree #makeup #beauty https://www.instagram.com/p/BrJDz9UHi3x/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1sgdi3y1er9vk
Top 5 fic tropes?
1. FAKE DATING!!!! or marriage of convenience
2. childhood sweethearts/have been friends since childhood
3. enemies to lovers or whatever that’s called i eat that shit UP
4. Can’t Fall In Love No Matter What (and they do) (you could probably call this forbidden romance idk)
5. the “we’re tragically in love and everyone can see it but us” trope
ask me my top 5 anything :)
The Sky Princess Bride, ch. 8
Lexa and Clarke raced along the ravine floor, stopping just before the treeline. Lexa turned her head toward the fading sound of hoofbeats. “Ha! Your pig fiance is too late! A few more steps and we’ll be safe in the fire swamp.” Her grin was a mix of madness and mischief. “We’ll never survive,” Clarke hesitated. “Nonsense,” Lexa reached for Clarke’s hand then drew her sword. “You’re only saying that because no one ever has.” They ran headlong into the swamp.
They walked quietly for a few minutes, taking in their surroundings. The day had grown much darker since they’d crossed the treeline. The air was thick and damp, as were the trees and ground. Clarke couldn’t put her finger on it, but the whole atmosphere made her feel incredibly uneasy. “It’s not that bad,” Lexa mused, offhanded. Clarke shot her a quizzical look, her head cocked to the side. “Well I’m not saying I’d like to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely,” Lexa defended, a slight twinkle in her eyes. They continued on in silence until a curious popping sound began beneath them. Pop...pop… it seemed to grow closer. Pop...pop-pop pop...WHOOSH. A flame spout shot up immediately next to Clarke, setting the foot of her gown ablaze. She screamed as Lexa quickly dropped to the ground and smothered the flames with other girl’s skirts. “Well now, that was an adventure.” Lexa stood and held out her hand to help Clarke to her feet. “Singed a bit, were you?” Clarke shook her head. “No, you?” Lexa shook her head in response, then froze as another pop...pop-pop pop...sounded. She quickly grabbed Clarke around the waist and lifted her to the left just as a second flame spout WHOOSHED upward in the exact spot where she’d been standing. “Well, one thing I will say,” Lexa looked at Clarke, her hands still tightly gripping the blonde’s hips, “the fire swamp certainly does keep you on your toes.” She smiled wryly as she released the other girl, then took her hand and continued forward into the growing darkness. The air and the trees grew ever thicker as the two women made their way through the muck and the mire. “This will all soon be a happy memory,” Lexa proclaimed. “Raven’s ship Revenge is anchored at the far end. And I, as you know, am Raven.” She hacked away the vines that were now woven across their path. Clarke’s brow furrowed. “But how is that possible, since she’s been marauding twenty years, and you only left me five years ago?” Lexa’s sword sang through the air as she sliced through another massive vine. “I myself am often surprised at life’s little quirks.” Pop...pop-pop pop… she grabbed Clarke’s waist and lifted her to the side once more. WHOOSH. “See, what I told you before about saying ‘please’ was true,” she continued, hacking through vines as they went. “It intrigued Raven, as did my description of your beauty.” Clarke found herself smiling behind the other girl’s back. “Finally, Raven decided something. She said, ‘All right Lexa, I've never had a valet, you can try it for tonight. I'll most likely kill you in the morning.’ Three years she said that. ‘Good night Lexa. Good work. Sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning.’ It was a fine time for me. I was learning to fence, fight, anything anyone would teach me. Raven and I eventually became friends. And then, it happened.” She paused to sheath her sword as they emerged from the vines. “What? Go on,” Clarke urged. Lexa took her hand and began to lead her down a narrow path between two gigantic trees. “Well, Raven had grown so rich, she wanted to retire. So, she took me to her cabin, and told me her secret. ‘I am not the Dread Pirate Raven,’ she said. ‘My name is Anya. I inherited the ship from the previous Dread Pirate Raven, just as you will inherit it from me. The man I inherited it from was not the real Dread Pirate Raven either. His name was Gustus. The real Raven has been retired fifteen years and living like a Queen in Patagonia.” They stopped before a large tree that had fallen across a bog. Lexa turned to Clarke, held out her arms, and raised her eyebrow with a question. Clarke wrapped her arms around Lexa’s neck in answer, and the brunette lifted her with ease. She began to walk across the tree, steady placing one foot before the other. Clarke could feel the other woman’s arms, lean and strong beneath her, and her stomach leapt slightly at that realization. She tried to dismiss the thoughts and reached out to move a vine away from Lexa’s face. “Thank you,” she smiled, continuing with her story as they delicately crossed the bog. “Then she explained that the name was the important thing for inspiring the necessary fear. You see, no one would surrender to the Dread Pirate Lexa. So we sailed ashore, took on an entirely new crew, and she stayed aboard for a while as first mate, all the time calling me Raven. Once the crew believed, she left the ship, and I have been Raven ever since. Except now that we're together, I shall retire and hand the name over to someone else.” She stepped back onto the swamp’s sodden floor and set Clarke down gently. “Is everything clear to you?” Clarke nodded, though she was utterly unsure of her answer. She took a step forward and disappeared into the earth beneath her, gasping. Quicksand! Lexa moved like lightning, drawing her blade to cut loose the vine hanging just to her right. She grasped it firmly in her hand, tossed her sword to the side, took a deep breath, and dove into the sand after her love. They were under for what felt like an eternity. The sand was thick like porridge, suctioning them deeper with every move beneath its surface. Finally, her lungs and eyes burning, Lexa’s hand thrust forth from the pit, taking hold of the vine. She broke the surface, gasping for air, Clarke coughing and sputtering in her arms. The two women crawled out of the sand and back onto solid ground, drawing the air in deeply to soothe the burning in their sand-scorched lungs. Clarke reached to embrace Lexa, and as she held the princess, Lexa spotted a hideously large rodent perched not far from them, baring its teeth, a low growl rumbling from its throat. A second creature appeared a few feet away. “We’ll never succeed,” Clarke lamented. “We may as well die here.” “No,” Lexa broke the embrace. “We have already succeeded.” She stood to help Clarke to her feet, brushing the sand from her face and retrieving her sword. “I mean, what are the three terrors of the fire swamp? One, the flame spouts. No problem. There’s a popping sound preceding each, we can avoid that.” They strode on through the swamp, moving quickly. “Two, the lightning sand, but you were clever enough to discover what that looks like, so in the future we can avoid that too.” Clarke shot her a look. “Lexa, what about the R.O.U.S.s?” “Rodents of unusual size? I don’t think they exist.” No sooner had the words escaped her lips than one of the rodents flung itself at her from where it had been perched, waiting. It knocked her to the ground, snarling and gnashing its teeth. The creature covered half her body, easily. Clarke stood frozen in horror as Lexa grappled with the beast, trying desperately to keep its teeth away from her. They rolled to and fro, Lexa managing to wedge her arm between herself and the beast just as it lunged forward, sinking its teeth deep into her forearm. She screamed out in pain and Clarke began to panic, unable to move. Lexa tried to loose her arm, to no avail, then raised her free arm to land a jab right into the creature’s jaw, knocking it off of her. She flipped onto her stomach and frantically crawled toward her sword, but the beast quickly recovered and grabbed for her legs. She rolled over once more and grasped the rodent by the jaw, its teeth almost at her throat. She struggled beneath the terrifying animal, her legs desperately seeking purchase in the dirt. She managed to lift herself just enough to flip the creature over her and crawl once more for her sword. The rodent flipped back onto its paws and began to head for Clarke. “LEXA!” She screamed. Lexa abandoned her sword and flung herself after the creature, grasping its tail and dragging it away from the blonde. Clarke grabbed a fallen limb nearby and began to beat at the animal while Lexa struggled to hold it in place. The beast caught Clarke’s gown in its teeth and yanked her off of her feet. She tried to swing at it with the limb, but to no avail. She swung once more and connected with the monster’s nose, knocking it loose from her feet but back onto Lexa. That momentary advantage was all the creature needed to sink its teeth deep into Lexa’s shoulder. She screamed in anguish, pinned beneath the massive rodent. Pop...she heard suddenly. Pop-pop pop...she used all her strength to flip herself and the beast over toward the sound. WHOOSH! The flame spout shot out of the ground and lit the monster’s back aflame. The creature was stunned, and Lexa seized the opportunity to scramble for her blade as it bellowed in pain. She stood to her feet, sword in hand, and stared down the smoldering beast as it slowly crawled toward her. A part of her admired its persistence. A very small part. The rodent struggled to its feet and Lexa closed the distance between them. She stared down at the creature and steeled herself as she sank her blade deep into its side. Rawrrawaarrr it yelped pitifully. She withdrew her blade and plunged it in again. Awwrrrawarrawrrr it cried. Lexa closed her eyes for a moment before withdrawing and stabbing it a final time. The beast rolled onto its side, dead. She turned to Clarke, her gray-green eyes soft with a mix of pain and relief. She took the other girl’s hand and together they wound their way out of the fire swamp. As soon as they crossed the treeline, Clarke could feel the atmosphere clear up and the sunlight return to the rest of the woods. She inhaled the crisp air, tinged with the scent of falling leaves and pine. “We did it,” she said, unable to hold back the grin spreading across her face as she looked to Lexa. “Now, was that so terrible?” Lexa teased, her own face breaking into a smile. Clarke was lost in her eyes, basking in the simple sight of her. She leaned forward to pull the other girl into a kiss but stopped short when she heard horses. They turned to seek out the sound and were immediately descended upon by Prince Cage’s hunting party. His horses encircled them and Lexa quickly drew her sword, stepping forward to protect Clarke. “Surrender!” Cage called to her. She raised her eyebrow to him. “You mean you wish to surrender to me? Very well, I accept.” “I give you full marks for bravery. Don’t make yourself a fool,” he cautioned. “Ah, but how will you capture us? We know the secrets of the fire swamp. We can live there quite happily for sometime, so whenever you feel like dying, feel free to visit,” she fired back. “I tell you once again, surrender!” Clarke heard rustling behind her and turned to find more of the prince’s men stepping out from the trees, each armed with a crossbow, all trained on Lexa. “It will not happen.” She stood her ground. “For the last time, surrender!” Cage was fuming now. “Death first!” Lexa’s knuckles tightened around her hilt. “Will you promise not to hurt her?” Clarke exclaimed, shocked as the words left her mouth. “What was that?” Cage’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What was that?” Lexa’s did the same as she turned to Clarke. The princess-to-be stepped forward. “If we surrender, and I return with you, will you promise not to hurt this woman?” She willed her voice not to tremble. Cage lifted his chin and spoke regally. “May I live a thousand years, and never hunt again.” “She is a sailor on the pirate ship Revenge. Promise to return her to her ship.” “I swear it will be done,” Cage answered, with all the semblance of a royal decree. He turned to address Marcus, flanked to his right. “Once we’re out of sight,” he lowered his voice, “Take her back to Florin and throw her in the pit of despair.” “I swear it will be done,” Marcus grinned, a coldness in his eyes. The bowmen lowered their weapons and moved forward to apprehend Lexa. Clarke turned to her, overcome with love and sorrow. “I thought you were dead once and it almost destroyed me,” she said, her voice as soft as her eyes. “I could not bear it if you died again, not when I can save you.” They held each other’s gaze, afraid of what would happen if they looked away. Lexa searched desperately for the words to say but came up empty-handed. It was no matter, for just as she opened her mouth to say what her eyes had been trying to, Cage sped by on his horse, snatching Clarke up and galloping off toward the castle. Just like that, Lexa had once again lost the only woman she’d ever loved. “Come, miss, we must get you to your ship,” the count trotted forward astride his ink-black courser. Lexa met his eyes as the bowmen bound her hands behind her back. “We are people of action. Lies do not become us.” “Well spoken, miss.” Lexa spied his right hand and smiled, knowingly. “What is it?” “You have six fingers on your right hand. Someone was looking for you.” The count’s eyes betrayed a moment of panic before he swiftly drew his sword and struck her with the butt of it, knocking her unconscious.
The Sky Princess Bride, ch. 7
The woman in black slowed her pace, releasing Clarke’s arm and throwing her toward a rock. “Catch your breath,” she instructed. “If you release me,” the princess tried to bargain, “whatever you ask for ransom, you’ll get it, I promise.” The dark-haired woman laughed humorlessly. “And what is that worth, the promise of a princess? You’re very funny, Highness.” She leaned against a rock opposite the blonde. “I was giving you a chance. It doesn’t matter where you take me. There is no greater hunter than Prince Cage. He can track a falcon on a cloudy day - he can find you.” The other woman crossed her arms in amusement. “You think your dearest love will save you?” “I never said he was my dearest love,” Clarke spat back, full of vitriol. “And yes, he will save me. That I know.”
“You admit to me you do not love your fiance,” the woman raised her eyebrow to the princess. “He knows I do not love him.” “Are not capable of love is what you mean,” the brunette hurled. Clarke stood to meet her captor’s gaze, narrowing her eyes coldly. “I have loved more deeply than a killer like yourself could ever dream.” The outlaw stepped quickly to close the gap between them, raising her hand to strike the other woman. Clarke shut her eyes sharply and braced for the hit that never came. “That was a warning, Highness.” Clarke opened her eyes to stare her assailant down. “The next time my hand flies on its own. Where I come from, there are penalties for liars like yourself.” She grabbed the princess’ arm and took off running once more toward the forest. *** The prince and his search party rode down to the base of the hill where the stone table sat, Indra’s body next to it. Cage dismounted and approached the table, examining it closely. He spied the vial and sniffed it. “Iocane,” he announced. “I’d bet my life on it. And there are the princess’ footprints,” he pointed past the table to where Clarke had run off with the marauder. “She’s alive, or was, an hour ago. If she is otherwise when I find her, I will be very put out.” He stood with seemingly renewed purpose, mounted his horse, and led the party after the princess once more. *** The dark-haired woman slowed once more, thrusting Clarke against another rock. “Rest, Highness,” she commanded. “I know who you are,” Clarke accused. “Your cruelty reveals everything. You’re the Dread Pirate Raven, admit it!” The marauder took a deep bow. “With pride,” she grinned. “What can I do for you?” “You can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces.” Clarke’s eyes were ice. The taller woman crossed her arms, clicking her tongue at the princess with mock disdain. “Hardly complimentary, your Highness. Why loose your venom on me?” “You killed my love,” the blonde declare, unflinching. “It’s possible. I kill a lot of people.” The brunette strode nonchalantly to a nearby log and perched lightly on it. “Who was this love of yours? Another prince like this one? Ugly, rich, and scabby?” “No,” Clarke turned toward her. “A farmhand, poor.” She felt a familiar clench in her gut at the thought of Lexa and dropped her eyes to study the ground. “Poor and perfect,” she whispered, “with eyes like the sea after the storm.” A moment passed before she regained her composure and continued. “On the high seas your ship attacked, and the Dread Pirate Raven never takes prisoners.” The accused pirate leaned back against the sun-bleached trunk, casual as ever. “I can’t afford to make exceptions,” she sighed, crossing her hands behind her head. “I mean, once word leaks out that a pirate has gone soft, people begin to disobey you, and then it’s nothing but work, work, work all the time.” She cocked an arrogant smile at the princess. “You mock my pain!” Clarke fumed. “Life IS pain, Highness! Anyone who says differently is selling something.” Clarke turned her head away in disgust. The bandit regarded her for a moment before standing to her feet. “I remember this farmhand of yours, I think. This would be what, five years ago?” Clarke gave no answer. She added, softer, “Does it bother you to hear?” “Nothing you could say would bother me.” Clarke’s eyes pierced through the other woman. “She died well, that should please you.” She walked to stand just past the princess as she spoke, keeping her back to the other girl. “No bribe attempts or blubbering. She simply said ‘Please...please, I need to live.’” At this she turned to Clarke. “It was the ‘please’ that caught my memory. I asked what was so important for her here. ‘True Love’, she replied.” Clarke raised her eyes as the other woman paused. “And then she spoke of a girl of surpassing beauty and faithfulness. I can only assume she meant you.” She crossed back to the princess, then turned to her. “You should bless me for destroying her before she found out what you really are.” Clarke sprang to her feet, defiant. “And what am I?” “Faithfulness she talked of, madam, your enduring faithfulness. Now, tell me truly,” she stepped closer, “when you found out she was gone, did you get engaged to your prince the same hour or did you wait a whole week out of respect for the dead?” “You mocked me once, never do it again,” Clarke spat back, furiously. “I died that day!” The pirate turned away toward the sound of sudden hoofbeats high on the hill, and Clarke seized her opportunity. “And you can die too for all I care!” she shoved the other woman off the hill with everything she could muster. As the dark-haired outlaw tumbled down the hill she managed to call out, “As...you...wish…!” Clarke felt as if the wind had gone out of her. “Oh, my sweet Lexa,” she gasped. “What have I done?” And without a second thought, Clarke leapt over the hill’s edge to tumble after her lost love. *** Prince Cage’s band of soldiers slowed behind him atop the hill. “He disappeared,” Cage stated. “He must have seen us closing in, which might account for his panicking into error. Unless I am wrong, and I am never wrong, they are headed into the fire swamp.” He spurred his horse onward. *** Lexa and Clarke lay bruised and panting for breath at the bottom of the hill. Lexa used her sleeve to wipe the paint from around her eyes before crawling over to check on Clarke. “Can you move at all?” she asked, her voice softer than it had been. She cradled the girl into her arms, tentatively stroking her golden hair. “Move?” Clarke exhaled. “You’re alive. If you want, I could fly.” She pulled Lexa tightly against her, tangling her hands in her braids, breathing her in. She smelled like the earth and the sea, and Clarke was lost in her. Lexa pulled back to look at her. “I told you I would always come for you. Why didn’t you wait for me?” She searched Clarke’s face for an answer. “Well, you were dead,” she responded. Lexa smiled gently down at her. “Death cannot stop True Love. All it can do is delay it for a while.” Clarke smiled back. “I will never doubt again.” “There will never be a need,” Lexa breathed before Clarke’s mouth collided with her own and the years lost between them fell away.
The Sky Princess Bride, Ch. 6
The woman in black raced up the hill. When she reached the top she was surprised to find Indra seated calmly beneath a tree, her dagger grazing the hollow of Clarke’s throat. The princess was blindfolded. Before them lay a table set with two goblets, a bottle of wine, and a smattering of various fruits and cheeses. “So,” Indra began. “It is down to you, and it is down to me.” The outlaw moved to close the space between them. “If you wish her dead, by all means, keep moving forward,” Indra threatened, calmly. “Let me explain,” the dark-haired woman held out her hands as a show of good faith. “There’s nothing to explain. You’re trying to kidnap what I have rightfully stolen.” She continued to move forward, cautiously. “Perhaps an arrangement can be reached?” “There will be no arrangement,” Indra grabbed Clarke’s arm with her free hand, “and you’re killing her,” she finished, pressing the dagger’s tip against the blonde’s vulnerable throat. The princess inhaled sharply.
The bandit stopped still. “Well, if there can be no arrangement, we are at an impasse.” “I’m afraid so,” Indra answered, her grip on the other girl unwavering. “I can’t compete with you physically, and you’re no match for my brains.” “You’re that smart?” the other woman smirked. “Let me put it this way: have you ever heard of Plato, Aristotle, Socrates?” “Yes.” “Morons.” “Really?” the marauder was well intrigued. “In that case, I challenge you to a battle of wits.” She crossed her arms. “For the princess?” Clarke felt her body tense at the threat to her life. The woman in black nodded. “To the death?” Indra pushed, but the woman simply nodded again in confirmation. Clarke’s breath caught in her chest as the dagger’s edge wavered against her throat. “Very well, I accept.” Indra released her hold on the princess’ arm and sheathed her dagger. Clarke exhaled. “Good! Then pour the wine.” Indra did so as the other woman stepped closer to them and seated herself on a stone. She removed a small vial from a pouch tied to her belt, uncorked it, and offered it for examination. “Inhale this, but do not touch.” Indra sniffed the vial and scoffed. “I smell nothing.” She passed it back to her adversary. “What you do not smell is called iocane powder. It is odorless, tasteless, dissolves instantly in liquid, and is among the more deadly poisons known to man.” Indra hmm-ed with genuine amusement. The woman in black lifted both goblets from the table, turning her back for just a moment before returning them to their places. She tossed the empty vial on the table before her. “All right. Where is the poison? The battle of wits has begun.” She wore a self-satisfied smirk that irritated Indra. “It ends when you decide and we both drink, and find out who is right, and who is dead.” “But it’s so simple,” Indra retorted. “All I have to do is divine from what I know of you: are you the sort of person who would put the poison into her own goblet or her enemy's?” The other woman leaned forward with keen interest. “Now, a clever woman would put the poison into her own goblet, because she would know that only a great fool would reach for what she was given. I am not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you must have known I was not a great fool, you would have counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.” “You’ve made your decision then?” “Not remotely! Because iocane comes from Australia, as everyone knows, and Australia is entirely peopled with criminals, and criminals are used to having people not trust them, as you are not trusted by me, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you.” The outlaw furrowed her brow, propping her chin on her fist. “Truly, you have a dizzying intellect.” “Wait til I get going!” Indra laughed, then paused. “Where was I?” “Australia.” “Yes, Australia! And you must have suspected I would know the powder’s origin, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.” “You’re just stalling now.” “YOU'D LIKE TO THINK THAT, WOULDN'T YOU?” Indra exploded, and Clarke winced next to her. “You've beaten my giant, which means you're exceptionally strong, so you could've put the poison in your own goblet, trusting on your strength to save you, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But, you've also bested my grounder, which means you must have studied, and in studying you must have learned that man is mortal, so you would have put the poison as far from yourself as possible, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.” “You’re trying to trick me into giving away something. It won’t work.” “It has worked! You’ve given everything away! I know where the poison is!” Indra was smug in her self-satisfaction. “Then make your choice.” “I will, and I choose -” she broke off with a gasp, pointing frantically over the other woman’s shoulder. “What in the world can that be?” The outlaw turned to look, her hand moving for her sword. “What, where? I don’t see anything?” Indra quickly switched the goblets. “Well, I could have sworn I saw something. No matter,” she smirked. “What’s so funny?” “I’ll tell you in a minute. First, let’s drink - me from my glass, and you from yours.” They each lifted their goblets, raising them toward one another before drinking deeply. The woman in black sat her goblet down, pointing to Indra. “You guessed wrong.” “You only think I guessed wrong! That's what's so funny!” she was positively giddy with herself. “I switched glasses when your back was turned! Ha ha! You fool! You fell victim to one of the classic blunders! The most famous is ‘never get involved in a land war in Asia,’ but only slightly less well known is this: NEVER go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line!!” she erupted into maniacal laughter, her pitch growing more and more shrill until suddenly her breath caught in her throat and she fell to the right, dead, a cruel smile forever frozen on her face. The woman in black knelt to remove the princess’ blindfold. Clarke squinted her eyes, letting them adjust to the light before turning them toward her new captor. “Who are you?” she asked. The dark-haired woman untied her hands and feet before briefly meeting Clarke’s eyes. “I am no one to be trifled with. That is all you ever need know.” “And to think,” Clarke glanced at the table, then back to the woman before her, incredulous, “all that time it was your cup that was poisoned.” “They were both poisoned. I spent the last few years building up an immunity to iocane powder.” She reached out to grab Clarke by the arm and they took off down the far side of the hill, toward the forest. *** The royal search party slowed to a stop in the meadow’s rocky clearing. Prince Cage dismounted, running this way and that before declaring plainly, “Someone has beaten a giant.” He grasped at his saddle and remounted his horse. “There will be great suffering in Guilder if she dies.” The search party tore off, following the trail across the hillside.
The Sky Princess Bride, Ch. 5
Lincoln, Indra, and Clarke were high on a hill, far across a lush expanse of meadow. Lincoln was still carrying Clarke on his shoulder, climbing over steep rocks in the terrain. Indra paused to check behind them, wanting to make sure they were in the clear. She peered out across the meadow, scanning the horizon for any sign of the mysterious, black-clad bandit. Just as she was about to turn back, she spotted the woman cresting a not too far-off ridge. “INCONCEIVABLE!” she erupted in both anger and disbelief.
“Give her to me,” she turned to Lincoln, grabbing Clarke’s tightly bound hands and pulling the girl from his shoulders. “Catch up with us quickly.” She started over the rocks and up the other side of the hill. “What do I do?” Lincoln asked, bewildered. “FINISH HER! Finish her your way!!” Indra shouted back at him, dragging Clarke behind her up the hill. “Oh good, my way,” Lincoln mused. “Thank you, Indra.” He paused to consider. “Which way’s my way?” Indra stopped, trembling with pent-up rage. She turned to him. “Pick up one of those rocks, get behind that boulder. In a few minutes, the woman in black will come running around the bend. The minute her head is in view, HIT IT WITH THE ROCK!” She huffed off up the hill. “My way’s not very sportsmanlike,” Lincoln muttered to himself. Still, he picked up a rock and concealed himself behind a large boulder. The woman in black was sprinting across the meadow, and he could hear her light-footed steps approaching. She slowed to a walk as she came up the hill and into the clearing. She knew that this was an ideal setup for an ambush, so she entered cautiously. She crept forward quietly, trying her best to survey all directions. CRASH! A large rock exploded against a boulder just inches away from her head. Her hand flew to her sword and she dropped into a crouch, drawing her weapon. “I did that on purpose,” Lincoln appeared just to her right, stooping to pick up another large rock. “I don’t have to miss.” “I believe you.” She truly did. “What happens now?” Lincoln sized her up. He was amazed to discover that the man who had so quickly climbed the cliff’s face using their rope, and so skillfully dispatched Octavia’s well-trained blade, was in fact a woman. “We face each other as God intended,” he finally offered. “Sportsmanlike. No tricks, no weapons,” he eyed her sword. “Skill against skill alone.” The dark-haired marauder was intrigued. “You mean, you put down your rock, and I’ll put down my sword, and we’ll try and kill each other like civilized people?” Lincoln lifted his rock with a cheeky sort of grin. “I could kill you now,” he observed. “Frankly, I think the odds are slightly in your favor at hand fighting,” she responded, carefully dropping her sword by her feet. “It’s not my fault being the biggest and the strongest,” Lincoln replied. “I don’t even exercise,” he shrugged. His grin widened as he tossed the rock over his shoulder, nonchalantly. They paused, each taking the other one in. Lincoln bent his knees just slightly and raised his hands toward her, palms out. The woman mirrored him, bouncing briefly on the balls of her feet before springing forward to throw her shoulder into his gut. He was solid, all sinew and muscle, and she bounced backwards off of him. He smiled down at her and waited. She gained her bearings and sprung forward again, this time wrapping her arms around his waist, trying desperately to knock him off balance. She strained against him but could gain no ground. She stepped back, exasperated. “Look, are you just fiddling around with me or what?” He grinned at her. “I just want you to feel you’re doing well. I hate for people to die embarrassed.” He lunged for her, but she tucked and rolled forward between his legs, popping up into a fighting stance on his other side. “You’re quick!” he turned to her. “And a good thing, too.” Lincoln stepped toward her and she countered, backing up the hillside. “Why are you wearing that paint?” he swiped at her with his massive fist, and she dodged. “Were you burned by acid or something?” He swiped again and she dodged to the other side. “Oh, no, it’s just terribly comfortable. I think everyone’ll be wearing it in the future.” Lincoln swiped toward her again and she dodged to the right, dashing up a nearby rock and vaulting onto his back. She pulled her arms tight against his thick neck as he tried in vain to strike her. “I just figured why you give me so much trouble,” he strained through clenched teeth. “Why’s that, do you think?” He backed her toward a rock and smashed her against it. “Well, I haven’t fought just one person for so long.” he stumbled. “Been specializing in groups, battling gangs for local charities, that kind of thing.” He stumbled backwards again, smashing her against a second rock. “Why should that make such a -” he smashed her into the rock again, causing her to gasp out, “- difference?” “Well, you see,” his hands pulled desperately at her arms, lean but strong around his neck, as he dropped heavily to his knees. He was wearing down. “You use different moves when you’re fighting half a dozen people than when you only have to be worried...about...one…” he breathed heavily, collapsing beneath her. He was unconscious. She released her grip before rolling him over to check his heartbeat. Slow, but steady. “I do not envy the headache you will have when you awake,” she said. “But in the meantime, rest well, and dream of large women.” She retrieved her sword and ran off up the hill, continuing on after Indra and the princess. *** Prince Cage’s horses rounded a bend, pulling to a quick halt in the midst of the stone ruins. He dismounted, kneeling to examine the scuffs left in the dust. “There was a mighty duel,” he mused, standing. He began to retrace the steps, pacing through the women’s fight as his officers looked on, curiously. “It ranged all over,” he ran up a steep incline. “They were both masters.” Count Marcus Kane, his most trusted confidant, spoke up. “Who won? How did it end?” Cage followed the frantic footsteps. “The loser...ran off alone. But the winner,” he pointed north, “followed those footprints toward Guilder.” “Shall we track them both?” Kane asked. Prince Cage stood tall. “The loser is nothing,” he declared. “Only the princess matters. Clearly this was all planned by warriors of Guilder. We must all be ready for whatever lies ahead.” “Could this be a trap?” the Count posed. The prince stepped into his horse’s stirrup, gracefully swinging his leg up and over the beast. “I always think everything could be a trap.” He picked up the reins. “Which is why I’m still alive.” He dug his heels into his stallion with a yah! and lead the search party north, into the meadows.
The Sky Princess Bride, Ch. 4
Dawn was breaking, and still they could not manage to shake the mysterious fisherman who’d been following them throughout the night. Indra had been pacing for the last hour and Clarke was growing weary of watching her pass back and forth. “Look,” Octavia called down. “He’s right on top of us!” Clarke was shocked to find that she could clearly see the other ship’s sails. He had been gaining on them all night. “I wonder if he’s using the same wind we’re using,” she heard Octavia mumble to herself. “Whoever he is, he’s too late!” Indra was mad with excitement. “SEE?” she cried. “THE CLIFFS OF INSANITY!”
Clarke raised her eyes to the insurmountable wall that lay before them. She could see neither a port nor a way up the cliffs, and was becoming more and more afraid for her life as they grew closer. A fall from that height was sure to kill a person. Indra ran to the stern of the ship, where Octavia had begun to rein in the sails. “Move that thing!” she ordered. “And, that other thing!” she yelled to Lincoln up ahead. “MOVE IT!!” The crew slowly and skillfully guided the boat into a hidden inlet. Lincoln threw out a line and tied them off while Octavia trimmed the sails. Indra leapt off the side of the boat and onto the rocky shore below. “We’re safe.” She stood, waiting for the rest of the crew to disembark. Lincoln knelt to grab Clarke and gently lifted her over his shoulder. He followed Octavia over the edge and down to the rocks. “Only Lincoln is strong enough to go up our way,” Indra bragged, grinning smugly. She pointed across the bay to the other ship. “He’ll have to sail around for hours ‘til he finds a harbor.” She disappeared briefly behind a rock and returned carrying a large leather vest, with three harnesses attached to it. “Put this on.” She handed it to Lincoln. He sat Clarke down on a nearby rock and began to quickly fasten the vest to himself. Octavia had been readying a rope just out of sight from the inlet, and she called out to the others. “Let’s go!” Indra dashed off to the rope, and Lincoln knelt once more to lift Clarke up. He met her eyes for just a moment, and there she read the apology his lips couldn’t speak. He carried her gently over to the base of the cliff, then helped her into the harness on his right side. Octavia climbed into the harness on his left, leaving Indra to the one attached to his chest. Clarke found herself wondering if one man could really carry all three of them up the seemingly infinite vertical face, but before she could spend too long on the thought, she felt Lincoln’s back muscles lurch into action. He was a swift climber, despite carrying at least twice his weight. The women were small and he was strong, but still, the cliffs were not exactly known for their ease. As Lincoln steadily climbed, the unknown fisherman slipped his boat into a nearby inlet and lept out after them. He ran to the foot of their rope and began to climb. Clarke felt the line tighten below her and squeezed her eyes shut. Octavia looked down, completely stunned. “He’s climbing the rope,” she gasped, “and he’s gaining on us!” “Inconceivable!” Indra fumed. She looked Lincoln dead in the eye. “FASTER!” “I thought I WAS going faster,” he groaned. “You were supposed to be this Colossus, you were this great, legendary thing, and yet he gains!” “Well,” he grunted, “I’m carrying three people, and he’s got only himself!” He continued pulling them up the rope, hand over hand. “I’m just going to have to find myself a new giant, that’s all,” Indra threatened. “Don’t say that, Indra, please,” he strained against the rope. They had to be nearing the top by now. Clarke glanced below them briefly and caught sight of a masked man, dressed solely in black, steady gaining. “DID I MAKE IT CLEAR THAT YOUR JOB IS AT STAKE?” Indra screeched. They reached the top, and Lincoln braced himself against the cliff’s edge. Octavia shimmied out of her harness and up onto the precipice, turning quickly to pull Clarke up and over. She hurried her toward an outcropping of rocks, sat her down, then ran back to help Indra. She pulled Indra up and over the edge, and the woman immediately ran to a large rock that had the end of their rope tied to it. She unsheathed a dagger from where it had been hidden at her ankle and began to saw at the incredibly thick rope. Clarke tried desperately to catch her breath, overwhelmed by the climb and the chase. She was sure the man in black was still speeding up their rope, but unsure of what it would mean if he caught up to them. Indra sawed furiously at the rope, and just as Lincoln crested the cliff’s edge, the rope snapped loose and slid away behind him. He turned to look down at what was left of the man in black, and Octavia sidled up next to him. They peered over the cliff, and both were struck dumb by what they saw. The man in black, against all odds, was holding tightly to the face of the cliff a few yards below them. “He’s got very good arms,” Lincoln admitted, impressed. “He didn’t fall?!” Indra ran to the edge of the cliff. “INCONCEIVABLE!!” Octavia turned to her. “You keep using that word,” she started. “I do not think it means what you think it means.” Indra glared at her and she paused, looking back down at the man. “My god, he’s climbing!” “Whoever he is, he’s obviously seen us with the princess and must therefore die.” Indra pointed to Lincoln. “You, carry her. We’ll head straight for the Guilder frontier.” Lincoln lifted Clarke over his shoulder. Indra turned back to Octavia. “Catch up when he’s dead,” she nodded toward the cliff. “If he falls, fine. If not, the sword.” Octavia smiled to herself, leaning back against a rock. “I’m going to duel him left-handed.” “You know what a hurry we’re in!” Indra shouted. “It’s the only way I can be satisfied. If I use my right - over too quickly.” She began to run her blade along the edge of a nearby stone. “Oh fine, have it your way!” Indra spun on her heels, exasperated, and took off through the ruins atop the cliff. “You be careful,” Lincoln called out to Octavia. “People in masks cannot be trusted.” Octavia nodded to him, and he bowed his head in return. “I’m waiting!!” Indra yelled over her shoulder, and Lincoln turned to follow her. * * * Octavia paced through her stances atop the cliff, stepping quickly, slicing her sword through the air. She hated waiting. She stepped to the edge and peered down at the masked man, still clinging tightly to the cliff’s face. “Hello there!” she called out to him. “Slow going?” He lifted his face to shout up at her. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude,” he moved his right hand followed by his right foot, and pulled himself a few inches closer, “but this is not as easy as it looks, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me.” “Sorry,” Octavia muttered, impatiently. “Thank you,” the voice below her yelled back. She paced through a few more stances, then circled back to the cliff’s edge, overcome with curiosity. “I don’t suppose you could speed things up?” she teased. “If you’re in such a hurry, you could lower a rope or a tree branch or find something useful to do,” the man sighed back in frustration. Octavia considered his offer. “I could do that,” she said. “I’ve got some rope up here, but I don’t think you would accept my help, since I am only waiting around to kill you.” She knelt down to peer over the edge at him. He nodded up to her. “That does put a damper on our relationship.” “But, I promise I will not kill you until you reach the top!” “That’s very comforting,” he grunted, pulling himself up another step, “but I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait.” “I hate waiting,” Octavia sighed. She paced across the cliff and returned. “I could give you my word as a grounder?” “No good,” he strained against the cliff. “I’ve known too many grounders.” “...So is there any way you’ll trust me?” “Nothing comes to mind.” He searched for another handhold, seemingly stuck in place. Octavia took a deep and solemn breath. “I swear, on the soul of my mother, Aurora Blake, you will reach the top alive.” The man beneath her regarded her for the briefest of moments before he chose to yield. “Throw me the rope.” Octavia ran quickly to uncoil the remainder of their severed rope, then dragged it to the edge of the cliff. She lowered it down until the man in black could reach it, then footed it as he began to climb. As he pulled himself up the rope, Octavia reached out to grasp his arm and haul him over the ledge. She was completely shocked to find that the man in black was not a man after all, but rather a tall, lean-muscled, strikingly beautiful woman. Her thick, dark braids fell down her back, and what the trio had earlier mistaken for a mask was actually black paint, smeared across her eyes. “Thank you,” she nodded to Octavia. She reached behind her to draw her sword. “Wait wait wait,” Octavia stayed her hand. “We’ll wait until you’re ready.” The other woman sheathed her blade. “Again, thank you,” she said, limping slightly toward a set of mostly-eroded steps. She took a seat, and Octavia leaned against the remainder of a rock wall across from her. She looked on with a keen interest as the woman in black removed one of her boots and began to dump small stones out of it. “I don’t mean to pry,” Octavia started, “but you don’t happen to have six fingers on your right hand?” The other woman paused, still holding her boot in mid-air. She was intrigued. “Do you always begin conversations this way?” “My mother was slaughtered by a six-fingered man,” Octavia answered, almost reverently. The woman in black obliged her, holding up the hand in question. Five fingers. Octavia smiled at her, signalling for her to drop her hand. “She was a great sword maker, my mother. When the six-fingered man appeared and requested a special sword, my mother took the job.” At this, she drew her blade from its place at her hip. She balanced it across her fingertips, holding it out for the woman in black to see. “She slaved a year before it was done.” She crossed to her, and the other woman gently took the blade from her hands. The stranger admired it, testing its weight before returning it to Octavia. “I have never seen its equal,” she admitted. “The six-fingered man returned and demanded it, but at one-tenth its promised price. My mother refused.” Octavia sheathed the blade. “Without a word, the six-fingered man slashed her through the heart. I loved my mother, so naturally I challenged her murderer to a duel. The six-fingered man left me alive. But, he gave me these.” She pulled back her ink-black hair to reveal two pale scars that ran the length of each cheekbone. “How old were you?” “I was eleven years old. When I was strong enough, I dedicated my life to the study of fencing. So, the next time we meet, I will not fail. I will go up to the six-fingered man and say, ‘Hello, my name is Octavia Blake. You killed my mother. Prepare to die.’” The woman in black was visibly impressed. “You’ve done nothing but study swordplay?” “More a pursuit than a study lately.” Octavia sat next to her. “You see, I cannot find him. It’s been fifteen years now and I’m starting to lose confidence. I just work for Indra to pay the bills. There’s not a lot of money in revenge.” “Well,” the other woman stood, “I certainly hope you find him someday.” Octavia stood and countered her opponent. “You are ready then?” “Whether I am or not, you’ve been more than fair.” She drew her sword and crouched slightly. Octavia drew her blade in response. “You seem a decent woman. I hate to kill you.” A cocky smile played across her lips. “You seem a decent woman,” her opponent grinned back. “I hate to die.” Octavia bowed slightly. “Begin.” They stood perfectly still for a moment, each of them sizing her opponent up. Octavia struck first, lightning fast, crossing blades only to be quickly parried to the left. They paced in a clockwise circle until their positions had reversed. This time, the woman in black struck first, connecting with Octavia’s blade and slicing through the air just past her cheek. Again they stood perfectly still, each fascinated by the other. Octavia grinned, then attacked. Each step she took forward, the other woman countered. Octavia advanced and the woman retreated. The woman advanced and Octavia retreated. They matched each other step for step, stroke for stroke. Octavia pressed forward until the other woman began to move backwards up a bit of the ruins, never breaking her retaliation. “You’re using Bonetti’s defense against me, huh?” she observed. Her assailant smiled. “I thought it fitting, considering the rocky terrain.” Octavia pressed on. “Naturally you must expect me to attack with Capo Ferro.” Their blades sang against each other. The other woman just grinned. “Naturally, but I find that Thibault cancels out Capo Ferro, don’t you?” She jumped backwards off of the stones, landing in the dust below. “Unless the enemy has studied her Agrippa,” Octavia charged up the crumbled rocks and leapt out, her body spinning and flipping mid-air, only to land deftly behind her attacker. “Which I have,” she smiled. The woman in black continued her assault, pushing Octavia further into the ruins. “You are wonderful,” Octavia panted, never missing a pass of her assailant’s blade. “Thank you. I’ve worked hard to become so.” “I admit it, you are better than I am,” Octavia conceded, retreating. The woman pressed on. “Then why are you smiling?” Their swords clanged against one another as Octavia stepped further and further towards the retaining wall at the cliff’s edge. “Because I know something you don’t know,” she smiled, her eyes alight with mischief. “And what is that?” the other woman asked. “I am not left-handed!” Octavia grinned as she switched hands, gaining the advantage and pressing her opponent up a steep and winding set of stone steps. “You’re amazing!” the other woman breathed. “I ought to be after fifteen years!” Octavia pushed her against the crumbling retaining wall on the higher level of the cliff. The wall shifted under the woman’s weight, but Octavia would not relent. “There is something I ought to tell you,” the woman forced out through clenched teeth. Every muscle in her body was tensed against the rocks, her feet searching desperately to gain purchase in the dust beneath them. Still Octavia pushed, her body pressed tightly against her enemy. “And what is that?” she snarled down at her, sure that she had won. The woman’s eyes glinted as a devilish grin broke across her face. “I’m not left-handed either!” She thrust her elbow into Octavia’s ribs, throwing her across the landing as she deftly switched sword-hands. Having gained the clear advantage, she flourished her weapon and pressed forward, hard, soon knocking Octavia’s blade from her hand. The girl was stunned. She turned and leapt from the top of the landing, catching a support beam on the way down and swinging her body out to drop near her sword. She ran to snatch her blade from the dirt and immediately re-assumed her stance. The woman in black shrugged, tossing her blade to land hilt-upright in a patch of grass before leaping to catch that same support beam, flipping her lithe and agile body over it, and expertly dismounting next to her sword. Octavia was speechless. “Who are you?” she breathed with admiration. “No one of consequence,” the other woman smiled back, almost smugly. “I must know.” “Get used to disappointment.” Octavia shrugged, lunging forward to meet her attacker. Their fight continued, ranging wide across the ruins. Octavia matched the woman in black blow for blow, up these stones and down those steps. Both were well-accomplished swordswomen, neither one relenting, each out to prove her worth. The fight crescendoed to a fever pitch, when suddenly the woman in black sliced Octavia across her cheek before knocking her sword from her hand. She brought her fingers up and gingerly touched the wound as she knelt before her opponent. “Kill me quickly,” she panted, surrendering. “I would as soon destroy a stained glass window as an artist like yourself.” The woman in black circled around behind her. “However, since I can’t have you following me either...” she trailed off before striking the back of Octavia’s head with the hilt of her sword. Octavia grunted and fell over, unconscious. “Please understand I hold you in the highest respect,” the woman bowed deeply to her challenger before running to retrieve her scabbard and heading north in pursuit of Indra, Lincoln, and the princess.
