oh haha. um yeah ive been a bit quiet for the past few days cause ive been working on sth. hah it might be a fic set in 1953. a pruspol and sattelites one.
“Which option has Percy and Annabeth okay at the end?” It’s a struggle to keep her voice steady under the relentless state of the goddess of magic, but she manages.
Hecate tipped her head to one side, considering. “Percy Jackson was warned,” she said. “So were his companions. And yet, when the crossroads approached, he chose wrong and endangered more than just himself.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“The son of Poseidon and daughter of Athena are in Tartarus. No path remains in which they are both ‘okay’.” Her mouth twisted around the word like it tasted bad.
Tears pricked at Hazel’s eyes. She swallowed them down angrily, forcing herself to ask. “Alive, then. How do we make sure they live?”
Um acidente ocorrido na manhã dessa segunda-feira, 20/07, na BR-101 norte em Sergipe acabou por vitimar fatalmente o condutor do veículo.
FOTOS: grupo Portal Alarde de noticias | VÍDEO: Dell Noticias
As primeiras informações colhidas no local com populares dão conta de que Bergue, condutor do veículo, um Fiat Uno de placa OQH-6764, de propriedade da OSAF, empresa do ramo de assistência funeral, conduzia o veículo quando perdeu o controle e capotou nas imediações do Povoado Tatu, município de Japoatã. Com os ferimentos provocados pela capotagem, o condutor veio a óbito no local.
A matéria será atualizada assim que chegarem novas informações.
MOTORISTA DA OSAF MORRE EM ACIDENTE NA BR-101 NORTE Um acidente ocorrido na manhã dessa segunda-feira, 20/07, na BR-101 norte em Sergipe acabou por vitimar fatalmente o condutor do veículo.
The Chronicles of the Light: Genesis (Part Thirteen)
"I'll get that for you right away," Calanthe smiled, though none of her patrons could tell that her smile was false. She'd been working at the inn for six days, and Osaf and Maune had provided her with filling meals and a new pair of boots. They had also located Rathnait's family; one of her mother's cousins had taken the poor child in and had promised to treat her as if she was her own daughter. In some ways, Calanthe was sorry that Rathnait was going, but in other ways, she was relieved. The child would be raised well enough by her kin and would no longer be a thorn in Calanthe's side when she left Aarod's Run.
She'd learned quite a bit about the surrounding area in the past six days. They'd been having troubles with raiders coming in from outside the local lord's lands. The locals spoke of wild, fey things that lived to the east. Baron Lerald spent much of his time and energy trying to keep them off his lands, and apparently, there was a large garrison of the crown's soldiers stationed at his keep in Lankharshire that were here to aid in that endeavor. The villagers spoke of men and women, drained of all life, but still alive, empty shells of their former selves that could work and eat and sleep, but had no sense of self or will to do more than simply follow instructions.
Maune had told her that this sort of thing didn't happen often, thank the gods, but that every so often, some poor farmer and his farmhands would be found wandering the hills, no longer themselves. It was entirely possible that the raiders who had come for Rathnait's parents were these fey creatures. Some of them, she'd been told, had an unquenchable bloodlust. Hobgoblins, they were called. Maune claimed to have seen one; a dead one that the soldiers paraded through the town, its wizened body the size of a small woman with saffron skin, wicked looking claws and a row of dagger-like teeth as big as any wolf's.
Calanthe didn't know whether the stories were true or not, but she still felt compelled to go east to the sea. In a few more days, she might have just enough to afford a small backpack and perhaps even a flint and striker set. She'd taken to spending her afternoons helping Maune grow bigger vegetables and bolder herbs, though the older woman didn't seem to notice the difference between the vegetables she usually grew and these slightly bigger ones. The old cook probably thought she'd just had a good harvest this year.
After the morning meal, there usually wasn't much to do, so Calanthe had plenty of time before the evening meal to go looking for medicinal herbs. There were a few types growing wild in the hills outside the village, and between her botanical talents and the village healer's need for fresh supplies, she'd traded off enough to more than earn her keep with Osaf, pay him back for the boots and save a few iron pennies to buy traveling supplies.
Calanthe made her way back to the bar, where she asked Osaf for three mugs of bitterbrew for her customers. Most of the men who came to the inn for meals were unmarried, and having no wives to cook for them while they worked the fields or at their trades, they had to make due with what could be had at the inn. There wasn't much in the way of meat too often, but Maune made the best vegetable stew in the village according to the regular patrons.
Osaf filled the mugs for her with a wide smile. He said that she'd been good for business; no few of the unmarried men in the village came in a lot more often to see her and try to coax a smile from her. With their patronage came a greater share of the local harvest, which Osaf's nephew, a sandy-haired trader named Gurt, could cart up the road and sell next week. Apparently, he made monthly trips to some of the larger villages to trade for supplies that the small village of Aarod's Run needed, or to bring back small amounts of coin that could be used to purchase goods from the tinkers at festival-time. Most of the villagers were too busy to go themselves, and Gurt made a decent living as a tradesman, it seemed. Osaf had mentioned three times that she would make a good match for his nephew. She smiled and patted his hand every time, humoring him, but she had no desire to settle down here.
Returning with the bitterbrew, she flashed her best smile for the patrons, asked if there was anything else she could get them, and went on from table to table as the steady stream of customers came in for the evening meal. She could spot the hungry look in these farmers' eyes and she didn't care for it at all, but no one had been anything other than incredibly polite all the while she'd been here. They were good folk, just not the type of folk that she wanted to spend her life around.
Tonight, there was a special treat. One of the village youths, Iohn, had come in from his father's farm to grace them with music. The lad's father sent him in every now and again for supplies and to trade goods for crops. On those evenings, he came to play the lute at the Dancing Badger, and often-times, word spread through the village fast, and the inn became crowded with song, dance and drink.
Iohn's fingers danced across the lute strings as he sang The Harpist's Reel, a fast homophonic folk song that told the humorous of a stammering harpist and his lady love. Nearly two dozen of the village's unmarried girls were at the inn, dancing with the farmer lads, though the young lasses of the village were only allowed to do so under the vigilant eyes of elder family members. Not that Osaf would tolerate any impropriety in his establishment anyway; he may be kindly enough, but he had very old-fashioned ideas about what was appropriate behavior.
Iohn's light tenor was far more pleasing to listen to than the minstrels that Calanthe was accustomed to. The boy had a lot of potential as a professional if he ever left his father's farm, but that wasn't any of Calanthe's business. She was just as pleased as everyone else that Iohn was able to share his talents with the rest of them.
The dancing lasted well past sundown and when Osaf had closed up the inn for the evening, he complimented Calanthe on her work and gave her a mug of hot cider as a reward for the night's bounty. Cleaning up after the evening meal wasn't too difficult. Most of the patrons helped out a little after they finished their meals and before the dancing had gotten into full swing. Helping to keep the establishment clean had been their way for years as Osaf had gotten older. Even though she was now around to assist him, the men who took their meals at the Dancing Badger were just used to it.
Calanthe slept soundly that night in the small room off the kitchen and when Maune started clattering around in the kitchen, she went out to assist her.
"I know you're leaving soon, dear, but we really do wish you would stay. You've been ever so helpful," Maune praised.
"Why don't you take on one of the other girls in the village?" Calanthe grabbed a rolling pin and began to press down into the thick doughy mass on the table in front of her. "Lilse is pretty enough to keep the men coming in, and I hear she's a hard worker. Surely, she'd be a good choice."
Maune shook her head. "Lilse is no barmaid. She's got her eye on Hant, the blacksmith's apprentice. She'll be selling horseshoes before the year is out, mark my words." She smiled a little bit. It was good to know that there were kindly people like Osaf and Maune who were genuinely interested in the wellbeing of others in the village. She'd known some very self-centered people in the last town she'd stayed in for any length of time.
"You and Osaf will manage as you always have, then," Calanthe said, a sad smile touching the corners of her mouth.
"I suppose we will, dear," Maune reached out to pat her hand, the sad smile spreading to her face, too.
It was strange that Calanthe was going to miss them after so little time together, but when you encountered good people, she supposed that one had a tendency to miss them when they were gone. Perhaps if she ever came back this way, she'd try to make a point to visit Aarod's Run again and see if Osaf and Maune were still running the Dancing Badger. You never knew where the winds of fate would blow you. For now, at least, they were blowing her eastward to the sea.
After that morning's meal, she bid her farewells to the innkeeper and his wife, stopping by Rathnait's new home to bid her farewell. The little girl was tearful, and as she headed toward the morning sun, Calanthe wondered what a normal life could have been like for herself.
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“ted, that’s not what she meant,” berry groans, flashing ted an annoyed look. Ted looks down at his feet, ashamed. “yeah, she meant knee pads, duh,” she explains, rolling her eyes as she slides on knee pads onto both her knees
