Je reviens ENCORE une fois à mon projet de présenter la plupart de mes 55800 photos (environ). On est en 2017 et comme ce blog est né en 2017, j’arriverai donc au bout de cette présentation.
Marseille, au printemps. La Vieille Charité et son Musée d’Archéologie Méditerranéenne
- œnochoé - Chypre, Période Archaïque
- Figurine à tête d'oiseau - Chypre, Âge du Bronze
In which a skier gets lost in the woods and needs rescue after a grisly injury, when originally mistaking Tarse as something dangerous.
The shouts and excitement from the trailhead had all but been silenced by the trees and heavy snow. While many skiers and snowboarders liked to show their stuff on the rails and ramps, you preferred the quiet and long scenic route—a gentle slope punctuated by occasional sharp turns and slightly steeper angles. You’d come out by yourself this time, confident in your knowledge of the mountain, and happy your skis alone left tracks in the soft powder.
About a third down the trail, you began to notice the trees becoming unfamiliar. You had been here just last season, but the trees seemed to be older, taller, and closer together. You pulled off to the side and dug into your pack for the map you habitually picked up from the lodge. You stared confused, only now noticing the once well-marked trail had seemingly vanished, replaced with minimalist outlines of danger. Bears, rockfall…avalanche. But that didn’t explain why the trees were different. You knew this trail, you knew you didn’t take a wrong turn—there was no other turn to take once you started. You decided you were too far down the mountain to trek back up, so continued down the slope, knowing you would still reach the bottom all the same. Or maybe not.
The trees continued to grow stranger—needles were the wrong shapes, branches looked more like twisted arms than the rigid, rough boughs normally seen at these elevations. Too, you began to notice brambles and herbs lively and green, as if for them alone summer never surrendered to the bite of winter snow. The forest continued to encroach upon the trail, until you were finally faced with a wooden wall broken by deep, obscured shadows. You began to pant as you searched for any sign of a break in the forest, but eventually accepted the trail had completely vanished.
You decided you had to continue on foot, so unstrapped the skis from your boots and wrapped them tight to your pack. With the poles gripped tightly in your hands, you entered the dark, cold forest and followed that invisible line you once knew so well. No snow made it to the ground, but is was still unnerving how lush and pristine the undergrowth was. Had you not been so concerned, you would’ve loved to sit and stare, but you were on a mission. You didn’t want to be out here when night inevitably fell.
A breeze blew through the branches, a wave that shook the trees which creaked and moaned in protest. But the forest was healthy—no weak roots threatening to drop a massive trunk on your head, no dead trees losing limbs as they rotted away. You had heard of eternal forests, ancient and still, but they were all far off, not to mention on the opposite side of the mountains. There were rumors, of guardians who used unknown magics to will the plants to grow, and to rid any intruders. But those were tales. They had to be…right?
A different noise made you freeze in place. It was the snap of a hefty branch, and it was close. You slowly turned your head, but saw nothing to make such a sound. Then you heard a log being split open and loud crunching. You snuck silently to the closest tree, and just barely peeked around the rough bark. All you saw was a furry shape, absolutely massive and foreboding, before you quickly turned and attempted to sneak away.
Oh god, it’s a bear, you thought, I just need to stay calm, it’ll leave me alone. It’s too busy with…whatever it’s doing.
You swore you had been deathly quiet when the crunching stopped. There was a swishing sound, different from the needles in the wind, and you looked back for just a moment. It was staring right. At. You.
Your instincts won over as you ran. You didn’t know where, just away from that thing. It was not a bear’s face you saw. You had no idea what ‘it’ was, only it should not be here. You weren’t sure how far your sprint carried you when you saw the forest’s edge, bordered by bright, soft snow. What you didn’t see, however, was the rock obscured by snow-covered ferns.
The sound that escaped your lips was halfway between a gasp and an ear-splitting shriek, whilst from your ankle came a sharp crack. You moaned in pain as blood seeped from your boot, soaking into your pants and staining the snow around your feet. You shivered as you felt your body struggle to keep conscious against the shock and pulsing agony from your broken ankle. But you didn’t hear any pursuer.
You listened over your hammering heart, and was met with silence. You weren’t sure to be relieved, or enraged at the carelessness that got you in this situation. You tried to sit up, only to fall back, face-first, into the snow. You’d never had a high tolerance for pain—not that you suffered many injuries—so this was utterly incapacitating.
You remained still for some time, hoping there was a chance someone would find you, when you heard vegetation being crushed and something coming towards you. Your heart quickened again as you attempted to play dead, which was fairly convincing as you laid limp, face-down in the powder and smelling of blood. You felt your stomach sink as a loud, chuffing breath warmed the back of your neck. Any second now, you expected long, sharp claws to dig into your back, and were pleasantly surprised when you felt fingers press into your shoulder. That too, however turned to dread as a heavy, hand-like paw landed near your face, barely visible in the corner of your visor.
The thing moved around you, sniffing, until it retreated back to your injury. At the gentle touch, you couldn’t stop from weakly moaning, “Agh! It hurts…”
The pressure immediately lifted, and sweat threatened to cascade down your brow as the thing shuffled closer to your head. You could feel it kneel down to be at eye-level, and surprisingly softly, it said in a rumble, “You can speak. Good. Will you let me help you?”
You found it hard to reply, not just from surprise, but the growing lightheadedness. You finally managed to push out a small, “…Okay,” which seemed to satisfy the creature.
“Good,” it moved back towards your feet, adding, “I won’t be able to fix internal damage, you’ll need your human doctors for that. I will close the wound and ease the pain, but I doubt your ability to walk.”
At that, you anticipated another wave of agony, but when pressure pressed close to the wound, that was all you felt. There was a feeling of your skin being tugged at, but that didn’t hurt, either, despite how strange the sensation was. By now the sun was hidden behind the surrounding trees, and you began to grow cold as the light receded.
The creature seemed to finish tending to your injury, then rumbled, “Allow me to keep you warm,” as you felt a furry, thick coat begin to wrap around you. It lifted you from the snow into the coils as you finally got a good look at the thing.
Its long and thick body was covered with the ragged-looking pelt, a deep grayish-green with occasional splotches of what looked to be moss or lichen. While one large, muscular arm helped in supporting you, the other appeared to be a limb of vines only superficially resembling that of an arm. It had no legs, its chest down a slowly tapering core of muscle, which led you to assume it might be a naga, but the face—in addition to the aforementioned details—told otherwise. It wore a wooden mask, with prominent but harmless teeth engraved around its rim, and two white eyes that looked back with an almost disinterested expression. You truly had no idea what this was.
You did begin to feel warmer, but you still felt incredibly apprehensive with this thing wrapped around you. Its voice remained gentle, however, as it conversed, “You appear concerned. I will not harm you, like any fellow creature I’ve previously met. You do not have to fear me. I will keep you safe. You may call me Tarse.”
Your voice threatened to die in your throat, but you eventually croaked, “…w-what are you?”
The emotion in Tarse’s eyes didn’t change as he replied, “I am a Wyrm. My kind does not normally frequent here, and I only desire to pass by on my journey back home.”
All you did was nod. Tarse held you close as night began to fall, covering all except your face so you could still breathe. It sounded as if he had fallen asleep, for his breathing slowed and muscles relaxed, but still kept a secure hold so you wouldn’t slip. You looked at the stars, wondering if your friends knew you were even here, but slowly, too, drifted into unconsciousness.
You were awoken with a start as an explosion rocked the mountainside, and without a word Tarse wrapped around you entirely, bracing his body as you were trying to make sense of things. You could hear wood breaking, rocks colliding, and an ungodly roaring as the whole world outside seemed to fall to pieces.
As soon as it started, the chaos was silenced. All you could hear was the breathing of Tarse and your own heart beating out of your chest. Moments of relative silence dragged on, and was only broken when Tarse began to speak.
“The snow and rocks have us completely buried. It I move too much, this space will collapse. I can dig my way out, but you would not be fast or strong enough to follow. However, I will not leave you to perish. I need your trust and understanding.”
You slowly nodded, knowing you had no choice either way.
“I have disagreed with my kin on their actions, but still have the ability to consume things whole,” Tarse continued watching you with his luminous eyes, noticeably much softer now, “I am more plant than animal, but still possess a digestive system similar to yours. I usually only eat plants, and when I do ingest an animal, it is never to kill or provide myself sustenance. I can protect and transport you this way, if you are willing.”
Far, far slower this time, you nodded. If Tarse left you, you’d be crushed by the debris, and though a visceral instinct told you this would also lead to certain death, you were in no position to deny and expect your desire be seriously considered.
Tarse nodded in turn, the rumble in his voice now a gentle purr as he advised, “I do not want to cause further strain on your injury. I will ingest you head-first, and though I understand you will likely struggle, the more still you remain the easier and faster this will be.”
You heard creaking, and felt fear rush through you as Tarse’s mask had a part break off on each side, which extended into long, flexible jaws. He moved slowly and minimally, straining under the weight and attempting to keep you calm despite the horrified expression under your visor.
With jaw fully extended, he asked, “Should you remove your bag? It may be uncomfortable to have it with you, and I fear I may damage it due to its dimensions and shape.”
You had forgotten it was still strapped to your back, and quickly pulled it off with a half-hearted sigh. You untied the skis and laid the poles beside them, saying, “I still want this, but I don’t need those.” Thankfully, they weren’t your favorite.
Tarse nodded, “Once you have settled, I will deliver your belongings to you. It will likely be somewhat cramped, but I’ll try to be accommodating as possible. Tell me when you’re ready.”
The words hung in the quickly vanishing air, and you struggled to come to terms with what was to happen. However, since the Wyrm was letting you decide when, it gave a minimal sense of reassurance. Eventually, you resorted to telling yourself, it’s just another adventure. If this Tarse guy wanted to kill me, he’d’ve done it already, and wouldn’t care if he hurt me more. Godammit, how did I get myself into this…
Tarse watched you with patient eyes, and only nodded when you told him you were ready. With his arms raised to keep from being crushed, he used his tail to gently lift you up to his face, still only squeezing hard enough to keep you stable. As he opened his jaws wide, you could hardly see anything more than a black abyss yawning back at you. This is it, you thought, and the jaws descended over your head.
You didn’t realize how cold you were until Tarse’s warmth washed over you. You couldn’t help but shiver as your once soggy, freezing clothes were now drenched with warm, slippery saliva. You also shook as a wave of revulsion hit you, spurred by the action of Tarse’s tongue coating your neck and chest, and couldn’t help as you squirmed with discomfort. The Wyrm paused, sensing your distress, and after a few moments of you mostly reassuring yourself, continued.
You felt yourself tipped forward as Tarse tilted his own head back, and whimpered as your head entered his throat, thankfully only further drenching your visor and helmet. In your ears, you could clearly hear the sound of gulping as you were swallowed, but also heard something like creaking wood as the esophagus grew tighter. Tarse began to swallow with more force, and after seeming to push your shoulders past this point, once again resigned to gently easing you deeper into his body. When you finally felt your feet taken in by his throat, you found yourself wondering how much longer until you were in his stomach. Soon as that thought arose, you were pushed into a chamber far looser, and within half a minute, you were completely sealed inside.
You couldn’t help but press your hand into the plush—but highly textured—walls, which pulsed and shifted around but never once encroached further upon you. It seemed fairly sudden when you heard another gulp and your bag slid inside the stomach with you, also soaking, but thankfully it was waterproof. You held it close to your chest as your position shifted, and you felt the muscles around you flex as Tarse likely began to burrow through the debris.
You expected the heat and lack of oxygen to send you to sleep, but your mind was surprisingly alert as your surroundings continued to shift with a noticeable wave-like pattern. You remained silent, and nearly squeezed the bag from your arms as Tarse spoke to you.
“There is a human residence further down the mountain, but when I arrive it shall be mid-day and generously occupied. I would only be able to deliver you there when night falls. While I can regurgitate you a minor distance away so you may arrive on foot, I do worry your injury may impede you. If you would allow me, however, I can heal you far more effectively with you inside me, though there may be permanent, albeit harmless, side-effects.”
“Like what?”
“You may lose pain sensation in that limb, you may acquire an unforeseen defect, or part of your body may be replaced altogether. I do not doubt my ability to treat you, but as you’re awake, it may be disturbing and painful.”
“But,” you began, “I’m not tired, I can’t sleep…”
“I have been supplying copious amounts of oxygen to you,” Tarse explained, “however, I can supplement a kind of anesthetic into the air around you that will put you to sleep. Will you let me do this?”
“I can’t make you either way, so…yeah, I guess,” you replied, and felt the walls shift around you again as you became aware of a sweet smell. You weren’t sure how much time passed, but eventually you felt the laced air fill your lungs and your eyes grow heavy. Your speech grew slurred as you asked, “You, prromis you’re not gon’…I’ll still wake up? Laterrr ‘course…right?”
“Of course,” was all Tarse said, and you slipped from consciousness.
Your eyes flew open as you sat up and gasped, wincing as bright light entered through your visor. Breathing quickly, you tried to recall how you may have gotten here, propped up against a tree along one of the maintenance roads with your bag awkwardly situated in your lap. You distinctly remembered taking the path you normally took, then getting lost, but then…?
The memories flooded back, and you relaxed against the tree, breathing a relieved sigh that you seemed safe, but most importantly, Tarse kept his word. You reasoned he must have let you out while you still slept, then as you remembered your ankle, tore off your boot and gasped. Instead of the pinkish flesh or a scar, your ankle and foot was completely replaced with a wood-like substance. You touched it, expecting there to be no sensation, but besides the smooth, hard texture and color, it still felt, and looked, like how it normally would. You gaped at this, flexing your foot and then standing, finding it to hold your weight perfectly without any sign of the past injury.
You couldn’t help but smile as you pulled your sock back on, then your boot as you thought of how your friends would react. Surely, you would have to come up with a tale that sounded less farfetched than what truly happened, but it was a challenge you were willing to take. Looking around you, you tried to see if Tarse was still around, but there was no sign of the Wyrm. You wanted to thank him, but reasoned you would have to get back to the trailhead soon, or risk him being discovered by someone else.
With a grateful sigh, you picked up your bag and slung it over your shoulder, using the sun’s position to decide which way down the road to take, and began your trek. It was only a few steps when you groaned, bec
Here’s a bit of a long post, this being the first thing of voreish nature I ever wrote for Tarse and Aegis, of which Aegis is cold, and Tarse is hungry, so they come to a mutual solution:
Aegis muttered under his breath, hushed complaints that the weather had turned so quickly, almost too quickly. The wintering grounds were still quite a ways off, at least another two days of walking, not taking into account the somewhat sluggish nature of his companion.
He turned from the cave entrance to the hulking, fluffy mass a ways deeper in and forced himself to perk up, assuring with a light, confident tone, “I have consulted the snow gods and they say they’ll let up by morning. We’ve just gotta tough it out ‘till then, big guy.”
The Wyrm nodded, letting out a huff as he laid against the cave’s frosty floor. Aegis turned back towards the raging storm, a pang of sympathy nearly rivaling the cold as he heard Tarse whine softly. This was a hard time for him. It always had been. When the vegetation goes black and rots beneath the snow, hardly accessible even with Tarse’s exceptional strength. It was the only time his bulk seemed to become just a bit smaller, a smidgeon frailer. It was also this time when Aegis suffered any hardship—unable to bear the freezing temperatures even when warmed by a blazing fire.
He stood and pattered over to Tarse, helping himself to the warm coils and soft, thick fur. Tarse hardly reacted as Aegis attempted to get comfortable, noticing the frost still upon his black wool had hardly melted. He did, however, cringe when a wave of hunger rattled him, the rumble resembling cracking, splitting bark. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his protector lift his head with a mischievous grin baring large, blunt teeth.
Tarse knew that grin. He didn’t like that grin. It meant Aegis wanted to do something that the Wyrm definitely wouldn’t approve of.
“Sounds like you need to fill up,” Aegis said as he gently elbowed Tarse’s side.
“I do not,” Tarse replied shortly, purposely turning from him only to feel Aegis patter around to crouch directly in front of his face.
“You sure about that?”
“Yes,” Tarse nearly hissed, grinding his obscured face into the stone, “I am not eating anymore rocks.”
“Who said anything about eating rocks?” Aegis asked, a lilt in his voice that didn’t chill Tarse, but made him nervous just the same.
“What do you mean, then?” Tarse still kept most of his face planted to the ground, but lifted up enough to look at Aegis with one slitted eye, “There’s no plants here, I’ve checked. You’ve checked. Twice.”
“Didn’t say anything about plants, either…”
Tarse now lifted his whole head, feeling a pang of disgust as he assumed what his guardian was to offer next.
“Naw, I wantcha to eat me.”
This, Tarse was not expecting. He stared wide-eyed, searching Aegis’ features for any hint of a joke, but only found a sincere, if not encouraging, concern. Tarse stiffened as his body gave out a creaking groan.
“See? Your gut agrees,” Aegis said as he tilted his head by a single degree.
“I don’t.”
“Come on, you get to have a full belly for the night, and I get to have a nice, warm place to sleep.”
Tarse didn’t reply. He didn’t even want to consider the thought. But Aegis was right, a part of him nagged, and there was no doubt he couldn’t do it, either. He reached his good hand down his torso, feeling the emptiness, and imagined feeling something alive there…something with a heartbeat.
He flinched to feel Aegis’ hand upon his own, smile soft and reassuring.
“Hey, don’t worry, big guy,” he said gently, “if you really don’t wanna, I understand. But don’t be surprised when you wake up and find me an ice-statue.”
Tarse sighed, that was something he definitely didn’t want to wake up to. But his hunger satisfied, even if just for a short while…
“Fine.”
Aegis nodded, “Glad you see it my way.”
Tarse grunted and slowly felt his jaws creak, breaking from the mould of his mask to their true potential; flexible, projecting clamps which jutted partially to either side. No words passed as Aegis laid on his own belly, looking up at Tarse as he worked to open his newly-detached mouth. Aegis pulled himself closer, almost seeming to squirm in anticipation, but that could have easily just been the cold.
Tarse finally yawned, his jaws open to their full length, but knew there was no way to prepare the rest of his body for the experience. Particularly since his diet was primarily well-chewed plant matter, only barring the occasionally non-chewed branch.
He lowered his head to the floor and opened his jaws wide. It was unimaginable to him how it could possibly be inviting, but Aegis seemed to find no problem with crawling part-way in, then waiting for Tarse to finish what he started.
The Wyrm stifled a groan as he lifted himself up, balancing Aegis’ legs in his good hand as he tilted his head back, trying to make the descent as smooth as physically possible, and hopefully not damaging to his sensitive insides. As he swallowed his guardian, he winced as his muscles and bones stretched to accompany the bundle traveling through him, almost threatening to become stuck in his chest, but after taking an exceptionally deep breath, continued.
As the last part of Aegis slipped from his mouth, Tarse remained poised, hand still by his head as he concentrated on gingerly delivering him to his awaiting stomach, quite a ways further down his long, bulky body. Tarse breathed out sharply as Aegis settled into his belly, familiar with the weight, but still uncomfortable with the shape.
“You did good, big guy,” Aegis drawled, slowly stretching and shifting into a more comfortable position, making Tarse feel somewhat sick, particularly since he could see the slight push from his now-plump center. Well, sicker than he already felt.
He took little time in curling up around himself, almost certainly squishing his guardian in his already squishy gut despite trying to leave pressure off that part of him.
“Good thing you’re such a glutton, it’s actually pretty roomy in here,” Aegis smirked, his voice hardly more than a murmur through Tarse’s thick core, even with the Wyrm’s head pressed close by.
“Could probably fit another two of me in here at least,” Aegis continued, patting the walls in a silent rhythm, “maybe three if you’re feeling particularly hungry.”
“I don’t know why you find this humorous,” Tarse grumbled, sincerely concerned the cold had frozen Aegis’ brain.
“Well, I know you’re not gonna hurt me, for one, and I’m sure this feels nice to you, too, right?”
Besides feeling slight relief from his week-long fast, Tarse wasn’t convinced the discomfort was worth the result. He rumbled in a neutral tone, wincing as his guardian moved again, but found he was growing tired and began to lose focus on the occasional wriggling inside him.
As Tarse’s breathing began to slow and deepen, Aegis closed his own eyes, but didn’t yet fall asleep. He remained aware, allowing the subconscious movements of his surroundings to massage out the cold, making him shiver in appreciation. Many times he had laid close to the Wyrm while he slept, snuggling close and able to hear and feel his internal functions, but this was on another level of closeness.
Tarse’s massive heart beat slowly and methodically, every few seconds pumping thick, dark green blood throughout his coiled body. His breathing was even slower, but much deeper and prolonged. His staggered lungs stretched well beyond his stomach, and caused the already flexing sack to expand and contract with each inhale and exhale. With a deep sigh, Aegis relaxed fully into the flesh surrounding him, and listening to the gentle rhythms surrounding him, finally allowed himself to join his friend in peaceful slumber.
La Cilicie champêtre (Cilicia campestris) était l'un des six districts de la province romaine de Cilicie organisée par Pompée le Grand (c. 106-48 av. J.-C.) en 64 av. J.-C. Le nom se traduit approximativement par "Cilicie des plaines" et correspond au nom antérieur de la région, Cilicie pédicule (Cilicia Pedias), qui signifiait "lisse" ou "plat", par opposition au terrain plus montagneux et difficile de Cilicie Trachée (rebaptisée Cilicia Aspera par Pompée). Les six districts de la Cilicie organisés par Pompée étaient les suivants:
Considérée par les Romains comme un "fatale monstrum", un présage fatal, Cléopâtre est l'une des figures les plus populaires, bien qu'insaisissables, du monde antique. La reine d'Égypte a été immortalisée par de nombreux écrivains et cinéastes, notamment par Shakespeare dans Antoine et Cléopâtre, et par Hollywood dans Cléopâtre (1963) avec Elizabeth Taylor et Richard Burton. Ce dernier film présente l'image mémorable de la jeune et séduisante Cléopâtre émergeant gracieusement d'un tapis déroulé devant le général romain Jules César. Mais Cléopâtre doit-elle être considérée uniquement comme l'amante de Jules César et de Marc-Antoine? Ou bien a-t-elle joué un rôle important non seulement dans l'histoire de l'Égypte, mais aussi dans celle de la puissante République romaine?
Tarse était une ville de l'ancienne Cilicie située dans l'actuelle province de Mersin, en Turquie. C'est l'un des plus anciens centres urbains continuellement habités au monde, datant de la période néolithique. Construite à proximité de la rivière Cydnus (aujourd'hui Berdan), elle fut un important centre commercial pendant la majeure partie de son histoire. Elle est surtout connue comme le lieu de naissance de Saint Paul (également connu sous le nom de Saul de Tarse, c. 5-64 de notre ère) et, selon Plutarque, Cléopâtre VII (c. 69-30 av. J.-C.) aurait rencontré Marc Antoine (c. 83-30 av. J.-C.) à bord de son navire devant la porte du port de la ville, dont les ruines sont aujourd'hui une attraction touristique populaire. Alexandre le Grand (356-323 av. J.-C.) se rétablit à Tarse lorsqu'il tomba malade après s'être baigné dans le Cydnus en 333 av. J.-C., après avoir pris la ville lors de sa conquête de la Cilicie.
Numeric etching / after Le Lorrain / Briat
Peinture d’histoire ou paysage ?
À la lumière du soleil couchant, Cléopâtre, souveraine d’Égypte, vient d’accoster sur la rive représentée au premier plan du tableau image principale. Elle s’avance, entourée de sa suite, en direction du triumvir Marc-Antoine, venu l’accueillir image b. Marins et promeneurs, indifférents, vaquent à leurs…
