They’re coming back to the Ghost, tired but
triumphant, laughing and teasing each other. Kanan’s reaching for his
comlink, about to tell Hera to prep for the rendezvous with Zeb. They
reach the crest of the hill and he never finishes the thought.
The Ghost’s gangway is already down. Chopper lies at the bottom. In
two pieces. The little astromech’s orange ‘head’ has been ripped from
the rest of his chassis, torn wires spilling from both parts. His frame
is blackened with blaster bolts.
Ezra and Sabine fall abruptly silent. “Hera,” Kanan says, or at least
his lips shape the word—he’s not sure he’s capable of speech, he
doesn’t seem to actually be breathing. He’s already reaching out for her
through the Force, for that bright, welcoming presence that he leans on
She’s not here. She’s not here or else she’s—
Kanan forces a breath, centers himself, and drops into a state of
pure awareness. Time slows. His own fear and desperation recede; the
emotions are still there, but they belong to his limited and
ego-oriented self, and his consciousness now is aligned to the vaster,
deeper rhythms of the Force.
Things become clearer. He sees what must be done. Enemies have come
to the Ghost: the first priority is to determine if any remain, and to
look for any sign of Hera.
He unholsters his blaster and strides forward. When he reaches the
gangway he jerks his chin at the disassembled Chopper. “Spectre-5. See
what you can do. Specter-6, we’ll sweep the ship.”
They murmur their assent. Kanan senses his padawan struggling to
master his own anxiety: this is evoking memories for Ezra, memories of
the day he came home and found his home destroyed. He’s doing well,
considering. He falls into place just behind Kanan and to his right, his
lightsaber drawn but not activated.
They move swiftly and silently through the levels of the ship. Kanan
takes ladders in one or two jumps, and Ezra manages to more or less keep
up. They spare no more than a glance for each of the empty cabins.
There’s nothing here, no signs of struggle, nothing out of place.
Just in case anyone is curious (even though I doubt you are)
I picked up a book today called ‘Wicca for Beginners’ by Thea Sabin.
It’s all about just the basics and clearing up for you what is actually Wicca and what isn’t. Explains almost everything you need to know. I got it in the spiritual/region section at Barnes&Nobles for $14.00. I’ve always been super drawn to Wicca for a few years now so, I’m excited to own this.
I suggest it to anyone who’s curious, it really does break things down for you (:
It’s The Falcons of Montabard by Elizabeth Chadwick, and EVERYONE SHOULD READ IT. Here are some reasons:
1) Elizabeth Chadwick is the Phillipa Gregory we deserve. Fun, juicy historical fiction, but (in these books at least) starring fictional people, plus what reads like decent research while also NOT claiming to be a historian (WE SEE YOU PHILLIPA AND WE DON’T FORGIVE.)
2) The Lady Annais, our heroine who takes no shit and is strong and smart and shrewd, abut also very believably a young woman of her times. Like, girlfriend will pick up a knife to defend herself in battle, but she mostly likes playing the harp and rolling her eyes at….
3) Our TRASH SON SABIN FITZSIMON. Omg, Sabin, you disaster human. If there was a problem, yo, Sabin will…not solve it. He’ll probably bang it, though, and then accidentally murder someone in the process. He is in a constant state of Fuck Up, and hilariously, everyone- including him!- just knows it and rolls with it.
4) An interesting setting (12th century Jerusalem) that has not- yet, I’m not done with the book, so it could all go to shit- bought into the, “AH YES THE CIVILIZING WHITE PEOPLE ARE HERE!” narrative that some historical fiction set in this region/time period tends to lean on. In fact, it’s a lot of the denizens of that area being like, “Ugh, y’all are GROSS, take a BATH, learn about GOOD HORSES, ffs….”
IN SHORT: The Falcons of Monatabard has a hilarious title, is that enjoyable mix of “TEACHING YOU OF ANOTHER TIME AND PLACE!”/”LOL TRASH!”, and has characters we actually care about.
Picturing a New Life for Odds and Ends with @virgin_honey
To see more of Sabine’s neatly arranged garbage art, follow @virgin_honey on Instagram.
(This interview was conducted in German.)
Broken figurines, outworn toys, battered shuttlecocks, random bits of plastic. These seemingly useless items, carelessly tossed away by others, find new purpose in the playful assemblages of German artist Sabine Timm (@virgin_honey).
A practiced scavenger drawn to the sun-bleached and oddly shaped treasures found in flea markets and on beaches, Sabine builds amusing scenes from her collections at her home studio in Düsseldorf. Each arrangement is fleeting — most live only to be photographed and then are quickly disassembled. “I am always a bit sad to part with my ephemeral little creatures,” Sabine says. “But in taking them apart, I can again give rise to new characters.”
German artist duo Stefanie Zoche and Sabine Haubitz snapped pictures of theatres all across India. Erected between the thirties and seventies, these theatres are monuments to culture and color and sound, Art Deco and Modernism and that wildly immersive seventh art: the moving picture. Tall drinks of water, alls a you.
“Si sobrevives, si persistes, canta,
Es el tiempo del frío: ama,
apresúrate. El viento de las horas
barre las calles, los caminos.
Los árboles esperan: tú no esperes,
éste es el tiempo de vivir, el único.”