#sirachia

[paddy-feet]

#Taco time cherry smoked beef rib off the bone #salsa and #sirachia mayo #alexndrahotel (at The Alexandra Hotel) https://www.instagram.com/p/BoYK8eIlsfB/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=11duitg0e4ih4

[jamesnigelkirkland]

Popular Pets in Sirachia

There’s the obvious ones: dogs, cats, rabbits, etc. A lot of Aerins enjoy fish, but you really only see them in the homes of those who are well off and can afford to keep aquatics. The Grounded don’t really tend to keep too many birds, unlike the Aerins, but they’re crazy about fish and amphibians.

Here’s a few other common ones that we (fortunately?? unfortunately??) do not have in our world:

They grow to be around a foot long, kind of like koi fish. They’re mostly used for decoration, many Grounded buying them expensive aquariums or building an extravagant pond for them. However, they are extremely territorial and do not bode well with other fish. They use their whiskers to feel around and find prey, and their fins are used mostly for display. Long snouts (?? what is the proper fish terminology here?) help them scruffle and snuffle through the sand in order to find any tasty bits hidden underneath.

Laurels (also: Loros, Lauriels) used to be a wild species of bird native to Luminosa. They were very aggressive, however, due to thousands of years of selective breeding, there are now plenty of Laurels in pet stores. Although not completely domesticated, these birds have become much more docile. Graceful as peacocks, but much less expensive and oftentimes more colorful, it’s not uncommon to see several wild Laurels roaming around affluent neighbourhoods. Although they cannot mimic human speech, their bird song is said to be highly pleasant to wake up to.

Pictured: Male Grounded Ramon (left), Female Aerin Ramon (right). Sexual dimorphism remains the same between the two types, with males growing swirled “horns” on the sides of their heads, and females not.

Originally from the Aerin Island of Fôrette, ramons were highly popular pets among the poorer, working class. They are exceptional at hunting pests such as rats and mice, and their brilliant colors were relaxing to look at after a long day’s work. Their ability to fly for short distances helped them silently pounce on their prey without damaging too many crops. Recently, there have been successful efforts in breeding a Grounded-type Ramon, thanks to a mutation that caused some ramons to lose their wings. These grounded ramon are hardier in build, with slightly longer, thicker legs, bigger bones, and shrunken air sacs. Due to the loss of their air sacs, the grounded ramon are no longer capable of producing sparks or embers, as the Aerin ramon are. Emmanuel has a ramon named Saulo.

The state animal of Old Biranit, the Popular Yvernne is perhaps more common than dogs there. However, their popularity is merely so-so in the rest of Elan Rid and Sirachia. It would be akin to someone in the US owning a ferret or a rat. So-so. They make good companions for those who aren’t the athletic type, as they prefer to laze about and bask in the sunlight. Cold-blooded, they prefer the temperate climates of places like Maceari, Fôrette, Luan, and some parts of Kafri and Yadish. It’s not impossible to find them in Veruvia or Olisi, but it’s not also very common either. Many children joyfully call them “Sky Noodles.” William used to have an Yvernne when he was younger, appropriately named “William Jr.”

Pujintso (also Phụ̄cîngck, Originally: Phụ̄ch cîngck, literally “Plant-Lizard”) are a type of Amphibian native to Southern Yadish. They can range in size from a house cat to a medium-sized dog. Not much is known about this newly-popular pet, however, people adore it for its strange, plant-like gills. There is little to no color variation in this species, but they are known to come in Saffron (yellow), Gold (orange), and Ghost (white). Since they require large enclosures, these animals are HIGHLY uncommon in Aerin households. In fact, almost all the Aerins who own them are wealthy and have ponds built for them. Even for the Grounded, these animals are generally reserved for those with either the space or the money needed to house them. Unfortunately, many parents gift these animals to their children for birthdays and holidays as they start out no larger than a gecko, but once they begin to grow into their full adult size and parents realize they are no longer small and cute, they are thrown out or released into the wild. Most do not survive.

Now for the not-so-common “pets”:

Dracoshka are native to Luminosa, yet they are the national animal of Elan Rid. Dangerous, and temperamental, with the smallest growing to be the size of a large dog, it is no wonder that so many discourage the act of owning these “drakes” as pets. Although many believe them to share common ancestors with dragons, scholars believe that dracoshka simply evolved along with dragons, mimicking their appearance and certain mannerisms in order to avoid any unwanted predation. As reptiles, they require mild-humid temperatures, both of which are provided in Luminosa. The poaching and smuggling of Dracoshka is prolific in Sirachia, especially to the wealthy of Elan Rid, however, efforts are being taken to keep them out of other islands. Their favorite prey item is ramons. James has a dracoshka named Dierdre, after one of the Ridinian goddesses, and often shortens it to Dee.

Ok. These aren’t technically pets. You wouldn’t find them in pet stores, really. Maybe fantasy Ace Pet and Garden. They’re not really like, smuggled either. They’re like the chickens of Sirachia. Sure, you could like, go out and find some. Catch ‘em and keep ‘em. Raise ‘em. But they’re….they’re so dumb and silly. Thanks to their scrawny legs and round bodies, if they get knocked over it’s extremely difficult to get them back up. However, they’re really affectionate and playful if you manage to earn their trust and comfort. They don’t live very long, though. Probably five in the wild and seven to ten in captivity.

I wasn’t even going to include these on the pet post but I love them so much I want like fifty of them. More on twiddlers here.

[jamesnigelkirkland]

Twiddler Masterpost

So my roommate couldn’t figure out how the twiddlers worked (a good point) so I drew a more “realistic” version to try and paint out my vision for them. Noodle legs are just much more fun to draw. 

Twiddlers do have wings, but they are pressed tightly against their bodies (à la ostrich style). However, one subspecies of twiddler, the Great Burrowing Twiddler, has lost much of its wing mass and therefore cannot fly, but is an excellent jumper and may “hover” for 1-3 seconds. This, however, expends a great deal of energy, and they mostly tend to escape into their burrows to avoid predators.

Pretty much all the twiddlers pictured here are Great Burrowing Twiddlers with the exception of the roosting twiddlers.

They originated in Southern Yadish.

[salvadoerena]

WIP Comic/Novel Series set in a fictional Golden Age of Piracy. All art and writing by Genevieve...

hey just a reminder i’ve got an entire blog dedicated to the concept and worldbuilding of my sky pirate universe!!

Important Note: Please, please, please give me constructive criticism!! Especially if it’s about the treatment of people/anything I might’ve been insensitive to. I’d like to know this before I finally start finalizing everything. Also, some of this info is a tad bit dated, but most history and non-James centric items should still be pretty accurate.

[salvadoerena]

Constants

Summary: James has trouble remembering a time that wasn’t centered around Robert Jones, Fleet Admiral of the Ridinian Navy. 

Pairing: N/A

Rating: G

Words: 141

2/4/16

Notes: Since this one is so short I’ll leave it out of a readmore.

He couldn’t remember a time when Robert wasn’t a constant in his life. Was he ever a Dreamer? Who knows? The flowing drapes and colorful rags of his father’s wagon only appeared to him in stuttering pictures in his dreams. His mother’s perfume was as memorable as the faces during their drills, or the passerby on tour. The tours were fun, they were chances to travel, places to be--Indarrae was wonderful carnival, masks, that boy in the shop—

How did one learn language in the first place? What pathways connect which synapses and sounds merge to form meaning and words when did he first understand that “Harris” meant “home” and the “sky” was “freedom” who first told him that “navy” was “prestige” was “glory” was “fame” was “wealth” was “freedom?”

Why did he let Robert become a constant in his life?

[salvadoerena]

Nostalgia’s Not for Me

Summary: Summer heat means summer regrets. Is this was Lana was talking about when she sang, “Summertime Sadness?”

Pairing: Robert Jones/Lucas Dahmere; Brief mention of Robert Jones/Beatrice Jones

Rating: G

Words: 364

9/29/16

The night was hot, humid. The air rank with the scent of washed up seaweed and too much algae to not be considered a safety hazard. It should have been a safety hazard. Every breath of air felt like a gulp of rancid water. Was it possible for water to spoil? The sight of the lake sure made him believe that. He could feel himself toying the water, debating whether or not the risk of parasitic invasion was worth the chance to cool off. Hadn’t he just learned about the brain-eating amoebas? Another reason to hate the outdoors.

But he wasn’t toeing the water.

He wasn’t smelling rotting seaweed, or killer algae, or even the far off bonfire that should not have happened that night.

All he smelled was smog and diesel.

Robert Jones heaved a weary sigh.

Nostalgia did not suit him. Regret? Sure, that came almost as naturally as anger. Nostalgia? Nostalgia had no place in his life.

And yet…

He could not help but remember the boy with the ponytail. He could not help but remember his obnoxious smiles and overbearing laughter. He could not help but remember how, by the end, all he wanted to do was pull him to the side and be near him, be close to him, kiss him…but it had all come crashing down when he—when he…when he…

What had even happened?

One moment, they were close friends, inseparable. Then, they were sitting on the bus, Robert buried in his book and trying desperately, oh so desperately to ignore him. He shouldn’t have done that. He regretted doing that. What might have happened if he hadn’t done that?

Robert Jones heaved a weary sigh, then shut the window and cranked up the AC. Heat and humidity gave way to coldness and frigidity. He slowly, reluctantly, with more than a hint of disgust, returned to bed, positioning himself as far away from his wife as possible.

As he laid there, he blocked all memories of muggy air and stale bedsheets from his mind, hurriedly trying to sleep. However, he could not suppress the regret that accompanied all bouts of nostalgia.

He couldn’t even remember the boy’s name.

[salvadoerena]

Anniversary

Summary: The men in the photographs, both mysterious, both beloved. James recalls a time when he saw vulnerability in the ever-stoic Robert Jones.

Pairing: Onesided Robert Jones/Lucas Dahmere

Rating: G

Words: 743

11/30/16

  James stares at the photograph in Aunt Teek’s. It’s of someone’s son, adorned in military regalia, painted in sepia. He remembers.

  The sun that day was unforgiving.

  James could hardly make out the forms of his companions as he forced himself to continue down the tarmac. There was no reprieve from the heat: either it beat him down from above, or slowly oozed up from below. The air was thick with the stench of melting tar, and it threatened to suffocate him with every breath. Everything seemed so far away: the sights, the sounds. Blotted out by the sun. Muffled by the blood rushing through his ears.

  He looked to his side and could barely make the drill sergeant’s silhouette standing in the middle of the track. A black sentinel against the unbearably bright landscape. James quickened his painful trudge. Vaguely, he registered the figure command him to run faster. James clenched his eyes shut. He was, he swore he was! He couldn't run any faster! He was anchored down, engulfed by the track as if it were quicksand, sinking more and more until he suffocated.

  Faster.

  James could only see white. White, white, blinding white that slowly enclosed upon him until everything went dark.

  “The Drill Sergeant Jones isn’t too pleased with your performance again, Kirkland.”

  James set down his water cup. His headache was gone, and the world was back to normal. A familiar fan continued to blow off to his right as it cooled him and filled the silence. The nurse sighed.

  “He wants to see you in his office.”

  “I’ll leave in a bit.”

  “Now.”

  Mouth set in a hard line, James got up, changed, and began the dreaded trek. He was not looking forward to the extra laps he would no doubt be dealt again as punishment for his usual “laziness.” As he approached the door, James noticed it was already partially opened.

  Strange.

  He cautiously glanced through the crack. The desk was covered in stacks of paper as per usual, but Jones was not in his chair. Instead, he stood at the window, brows furrowed, forlorn gaze fixed upon a weathered photograph that he held in his hand. His thumb gently stroked its surface, but then suddenly clenched his jaw. He let out a frustrated sigh.

  “You are a fool, Lucas. An absolute fool.”

   Jones scowled, and gripped the photograph with such force that it creased. He glared down at the image as if it had somehow offended him, walked to a nearby drawer, and shoved the photograph inside. He leaned against the wall, and pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply.

  James lingered at the door for a moment, both to allow Jones to gather his emotions and save himself any of Jones’ excess ire, and to process what he had just seen. He carefully pushed open the door and walked inside.

  “You’ve finally arrived, I see. Take a seat, Kirkland.”

  James sat down, eyes focused on the hands folded on his lap. He chewed on his lip, hardly able to pay attention to his drill sergeant’s lecture.

  “...an abysmal disregard for authority! You shall give me the respect I deserve, or you shall leave--Kirkland! Are you listening?!” Jones slammed his fists on the table, face red in indignation, causing James to jolt out of his thoughts. Quickly, he opened his mouth to give his excuse, but instead what tumbled out was a nervous “Who is Lucas?”

  Jones’ eyes widened by a fraction, and he slowly eased up off of the desk. The anger disappeared from his eyes, and his mouth fell open ever so slightly. For a moment, he simply stood there, then his posture went absolutely rigid. Arms folded behind his back in perfect ninety-degree angles, and he upturned his chin, making his presence all the more overbearing as he loomed over James.

  “Two extra miles for the next week. An hour shall be deducted from your free time. As for right now, give me thirty pushups, then get out of my sight.”

  James gawked at him, but Jones’ expression sent a chill down his spine. He dropped to the floor.

  Later that night, as he layed on his bunk, sore, thirsty, and nauseated, he made up his mind. He would work harder, would make Jones see him as his equal.

Only then would James uncover the mystery behind the man in the photograph. Only then would he know just who Lucas was.

[salvadoerena]

Lilies for the Funeral Pyre

Summary: Hanahaki Disease, or Leah’s Punishment as it is known in Elan Rid, is known for its beauty, as well as its devastating health affects. It is not an illness that should be taken lightly. Medical advancements have found no cure for it as of yet; most cases are fatal.

Robert Jones was doomed.

Pairing: Onesided Robert Jones/Lucas Dahmere

Rating: T

Words: 729

03/03/17

When was the last time Robert had let out such a deep, full-bellied laugh? Certainly not in recent memory. He vaguely recalls a time when Andrew had rushed into the living room, excitedly calling for Rebecca. The way she had screamed when she saw the Glasgow smile smeared on Andrew's face, just below his shimmering green panda eyes. Roberts abdomen was sore for days after that.

It had been a while indeed.

One hand clutches at his stomach, wrinkling his pristine uniform, and the other is pressed against his mouth, desperately trying to muffle the sound. He felt tears beginning to stream down his face and felt quite embarrassed that he be reduced to such an undignified state. Unfortunately, he does not believe he will be stopping anytime soon, not with Lucas egging him on from across the desk. Lucas, that pest! Here he was, signing documents to renew the age old Treaty—a matter of the utmost seriousness and an honor to have his signature on—and Lucas thought this was the perfect time to recount a rather undignified tale from his youth. He must remember to gift Lucas a raccoon pelt next time he visits. Perhaps he could present it over some drinks, see the way Lucas' face flushes red in embarrassment—

Roberts laughter suddenly gives way to a bought of coughing, and Lucas is quick to exit the room for water. As he leaves, Roberts cough subsides. He takes out his handkerchief in order to clean his hand, and promptly drops it. He feels his blood run cold, his vision tunnels, and suddenly the room seems off kilter.

Footsteps snap him out of it. He scrambles to open a drawer and conceal Leah's Punishment, slamming it closed before the door opens.

"If I'd've known you'd laugh so hard I'd've already had some wa—Rob? Are you alright?" Lucas hurries over and sets the glass down on the desk. He instinctively reaches out, thinks better of it, and sets his palms down onto the wood instead. He gazes down at Robert, brows drawn up in concern. Robert can't bring himself to look at Lucas.

"I'm fine," he manages, eyes fixedly pointed at the document before him. They should finish signing this, it is of the utmost importance.

"Robert you look ill. You're pale, sweating—Are you shaking?!" He places his hand on Robert's forehead, and Robert stands so quickly his chair squeals.

"On second thought, you are quite right. It seems I've come down with something," he flicks his gaze from the desk, to the document, to the door, avoiding Lucas all the while, "Continue what you are able without me. I think I am going to go rest until I feel more like myself. It's probably nothing, really." He gathers his things and heads for the door. He's not fast enough. Lucas is suddenly in front of him, worry written all over his face.

"Are you sure? Rob, I can go call for a doctor if you're feeling that sick." Lucas barely finishes his sentence before Robert feels another cough well up in his throat.

With a newfound sense of urgency, he sidesteps the General and rushes out of the room. He all but runs down the halls, turning corner and corner and going through doors and doors until he finds himself in the washroom. Only then does he allow himself to break.

He coughs violently, makes a mess of the sink. His abdomen will be ache for an entirely different reason, now, but he knows that will be nothing compared to the ache that will soon settle in his chest. As tears prick the corner of his eyes (a combination of shutting them so tightly, the cramping of his stomach, and his newfound knowledge) he remembers looking down at a pair of wooden crosses. He remembers thinking, 'If I ever come back, will these have deteriorated? Will they?' He remembers wiping his eyes, voice raw and being utterly alone.

It has been a while indeed.

He glares down at the sink in contempt and heartbreak. Leah's Punishment is an apt name for this, he supposes, for everything he's done until now. What worse punishment could there be than to simultaneously discover you're in love and yet aren't loved in return. He cleans out the petals, washes his face, and waits until his hands stop trembling.