I opened a book and in I strode.
Now nobody can find me.
I’ve left my chair, my house, my road,
My town and my world behind me.
I’m wearing the cloak, I’ve slipped on the ring,
I’ve swallowed the magic potion.
I’ve fought with a dragon, dined with a king
And dived in a bottomless ocean.
I opened a book and made some friends.
I shared their tears and laughter
And followed their road with its bumps and bends
To the happily ever after.
I finished my book and out I came.
The cloak can no longer hide me.
My chair and my house are just the same,
But I have a book inside me
She made a wish for each pomegranate seed she ate.
“One: I wish for warmth.”
And she was bathed in a warm glow.
“Two: I wish for kindness.”
And he smiled at her, and offered her a place to sit.
“Three: I wish for abundance.”
And she was surrounded by bountiful food, water, and everything she could possibly need.
“Four: I wish for respect.”
And she was given a choice.
“Five: I wish for love.”
And he promised to give her his heart.
“Six: I wish to stay here, with you.”
She sat on her new throne, her love by her side.
Her mother sat beneath a tree, the world cloaked in winter.
She wished she had never told her daughter wishes often came true.
So, as seen above, Salem may or may have Silver Eyes. You know what she also has? A purple-ish cloak.
You know who else has a purple-ish cloak?
The Huntress from the Huntsmen World of Remnant. And you know who the Huntress is?
The Huntress on the Beacon Statue who looks like Ruby.
You can tell because she has big double-bladed axe.
And what’s the only known Emblem for Salem?
An eye. Also in eviler purple.
So, what does this all mean?
Well, what’s the last shot and lines of the Huntmen World of Remnant?
“Every academy has its own methods of teaching. The end result is the same; Huntsmen and Huntresses ready to make their own paths. Some will stay together as a team, some will move on to work alone. But all are expected to serve humanity… and never succumb to the darkness.” - Ozpin
Basically. Salem is a fallen Silver Eyed Warrior/Huntress, who is able to control the Grimm, possibly through Silver Eyes powers, and quite possibly the “Grandmother” to Ruby’s “Little Red Ridinghood”. Along with being the Wicked Witch of the West.
Part 4 of ? You can read parts one, two, and threeon my tumblr. This part walks us back a bit to earlier in the day, no baby Turner yet. WC ~1200. Series 6 spoilers.
Prodromal labor began a week ago, and unfortunately in front of Patrick. Subsequently banished to the flat to rest, she spent the week wondering if her brain would start dribbling out of her ears and if the filing system in the Surgery had yet succumbed to madness. When she woke up this morning, there was a pressure low in her back, deeply uncomfortable. The first contraction she felt – a little after half five, the world still cloaked in darkness – chased her from the bed before one of her noises of pain could wake her husband. There was no need for him to stay home to worry over her, and there were enough patients to keep him busy.
So she made a cup of tea, read her Bible, and ate breakfast. Then when she was done, it was early yet, so she ran a hot bath, and soaks.
It’s enough to mask the pains, and Patrick chatters on as he shaves and brushes his teeth, cupping her chin to kiss her before heading out for house calls. When she’s certain he’s gone she drains the tub, shaky as she steps out onto the towel. Within moments of standing she’s bending, gripping the sink for support.
Control can sometimes be an illusion, but sometimes you need illusion to gain control. Fantasy’s an easy way to give meaning to the world, to cloak our harsh reality in escapist comfort. After all, isn’t that why we surround ourselves with so many screens, so we can avoid seeing, so we can avoid each other, so we can avoid truth. I’m sorry for not telling you everything, but I needed this in order to get better. Please don’t be mad too long, thistle be the last time I keep things from you. I promise. I know what you’re thinking, I know I didn’t lie to you. All of this really happened, this was just my way of coping with it, but now I’d like it if we could trust each other again. Lets shake on it
Die before you die,” for every act of shedding off a lowly quality is a small death; every sacrifice for the sake of others is another small death whereby the individual gains new spiritual value; thus, in a series of deaths, the soul rises to immortality or to a level of spiritualization that it has never dreamed of… only by constant sacrifice is development possible. It is pain, willing acceptance of pain, that helps in this process:
“What does the ascetic seek? Your compassion (rahmat).
What does the lover seek? Your pain (zahmat).
That one is dead int he cloak,
this one alive in the shroud! (D 1804).
I think Penrose’s own extremism is also meant to critique Davos’ own extremism on this score. While in many areas, Davos tempers his idealism with the hardworn pragmatism as a Flea Bottom urchin turned smuggler, when it comes to Stannis, Davos like Penrose may well push his loyalty beyond the bounds of reason.
As I’ve suggested above, a good part of Davos’ respect for Ser Penrose is that Davos sees in Penrose a symbol of his own ideal – in a world where men change their cloaks all the time, Penrose keeps the faith. However, the fact that he’s also called out as stubborn and hungry for death – with even Davos wondering whether “could it be that Ser Cortnay seeks for a way to yield with honor? Even if it means his own life?” – the comparison also suggests that extremism in the pursuit of loyalty might actually be a vice. For Penrose, we must ask, what is the value of loyalty to a dead man whose closest followers have abandoned his cause (Loras Tyrell is going to want revenge, but you don’t see him trying to put Edric Storm on the Iron Throne), especially when your stubbornness might lead to the death of thousands? For Davos, we have to ask, what happens if his loyalty to Stannis leads him to embrace bad means for a good end?
Dr. Strange had just saved the world, again with no casualties besides his pride and hygiene. So he went to one of the bathtubs in the Sanctum Sanctum of New York because the Cloak was very agitated with the guck and stuff all over it and Stephen knew it’d sulk if it got stained because he didn’t clean it quickly enough. So he filled up the bath with hot water and soap and started to clean it quickly. The Cloak look relieved and happy splashing at Stephen playfully like a toddler. “I’m glad you’re having fun.” Stephen said half sarcastic half sincere. This would be even more of a chore if it fought him,after all. After a while Cloakie was all clean,Stephen said,“Are you ready for your favorite part?” The Cloak nodded and and got out of the bath waiting to be blow dried with the hair dryer. Stephen chucked a bit and blow dried it evenly an thoroughly dry. “Thanks for being patient.”, Stephen told the Cloak. The Cloak hugged him tightly. “I got to clean my clothes and myself now then I’m going to sleep.” Stephen said. The Cloak gave him one last hug and floated away to amuse itself elsewhere. Stephen smiled then did what he said he’d do. Today was a good day.