MOONFLOWER ICE - BOOK TWO
That old woman is a human being just like me, he thought. Once she was stained, there was nothing she could do but die.follow link
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You are commenting using your WordPress. You are commenting using your Google account. You are commenting using your Twitter account. You are commenting using your Facebook account. Notify me of new comments via email. Notify me of new posts via email. I have six planned in this series of illustrations, and this one is the third after the cat horde and dolls of the dead I posted last time. I also did […]. I had some time this weekend to prepare a few videos for everyone to enjoy. Character Roll-Call: Then I prepared a three-part series of me reading selections […].
I am practicing my sketching by illustrating some characters and maybe scenes out of my bilingual novel, Sohyeon After Midnight, and this is my first installment. Staffen and The Ice Pine Palace, Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. The Ice Pine Palace. Skip to content. Share this: Twitter Facebook. What a perfect sucker hole! Twenty three hours after leaving camp, we were back—from a day of almost ft of elevation gain and loss.
The summit ridge of Bat's Ear Peak 11,'. The team's ascent route led up a "stellar-looking" linear weakness system that strikes up the face directly under the summit. The upper valley was totally socked-in for the next 5 days, so we convinced ourselves that the chances of doing another route on the Yentna would be a big gamble and that we would have a better chance if we were at Kahiltna to get a good day of climbing in before Freddie and Ben had to leave. At p. The three of us were still half asleep but our jaws fell to the ground simultaneously when we turned toward the north buttress of Mt.
It was covered with the most ice any of us had ever seen on it. Monday May 5, at a. An aromatic blend of coffee, fried bagels, eggs, cheese and bacon conspire wake up all of our senses. We pushed it a bit breaking track and we are all sweaty. Ben pulls his socks off and a chunk of skin is hanging from his heel. A half-dollar size blister is a hard way to start a ' route, but it proves to be irrelevant. The route features three rockbands to be surmounted, connected by discontinuous in most years ice runnels. Since the team was comprised of three climbers, they broke the climbing into blocks dictated by the terrain—three rockbands, three climbers.
The first block is mine. Three rock bands, three climbers, easy to split. Stellar ice runnels, a steep snow traverse, we are soon at the Prow. Freddie and Ben scream encouragement from bellow as my tools sink and lock in the thin seam of the Prow. I knew that Marko Prezlj had done it free—so committed myself to the same. The pace was set and we were making good progress but the weather was deteriorating fast. When I passed the rack to Freddie, I could see in his eyes that he knew what was waiting for him in the Shaft.
We shoved our cameras deep in our jackets and tightened our hoods over our helmets. Feddie disappeared under a white curtain of snow but the rope kept feeding. Every time it came to the end we joined him as fast as we could—keeping our heads down. Buy p. There was no way we could make it through an open bivy in those conditions.
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He just took the rack and pulled us two more rope lengths leftward to a snow mushroom that had formed on a rocky ridge. The weather began to worsen during this section of the climb, with heavy spindrift and increasing winds. An hour later we were all hanging in a six inch thick snow shell—two and a half feet wide by twelve feet long by three feet high.
Aside from the fact that Ben was super-pissed at having broken part of one of the walls while digging, he created the best shelter you could have imagined. He snored. A lot. At least he is a small guy. We crawled out to a bluebird day. Our perserverance the previous day had payed-off. We knew that were were going to the summit that day. Ben cruised through the Vison section, climbing it all free.
I took over for the Bibbler Come Again Exit, and finally reached at the top of the buttress at p. I could barely lift my arms but Freddie was firing. Climbing as a party of three definitely has some advantages. We left every thing except our puffball jackets, one rope and two screws and he pulled us all the way up the ' of elevation gain to the summit in two hours. Except for a few, all the other peaks of the range were standing below us. We could see all the routes every one of us had climbed in the range. The sixth block of the route had come. The descent. Ben was totally up for the task and led the twenty-six rappels down the face, putting in more then twenty v-threads.
By Wednesday mid-morning, we were back in basecamp. When I woke-up it was already Thursday. Trading day! He would make that sort of bold proclamation, a person out of touch with his era. So the woman who worked closely with my grandfather had stopped wearing skirts, and her hair had gotten shorter almost naturally.
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Because if she wore fluttery clothes or painted her face in bright colors, it would put my grandfather in a bad mood. It was the sort of meager rebellion I could pull off. The Kusakabes are a related branch of the Himekuras, and until two generations before the current heads of the households, the Kusakabes had held sway.
He no longer desired anything in life and refused to think for himself. It was as if he were living his life dead. I wonder if someday my grandfather will pull out my fangs, too, as he did to my father or to Kusakabe. Just imagining myself like that, I felt a shudder go down my spine and the core of my brain got hot and trembled. Death would be better. The fire smoldered in my throat and my annoyance accelerated. I felt my face tensing with the screams I was holding back and the pain that jabbed my throat.
Why did I have to smile at a time like this? The hordes that amused themselves with self-involved gossip, the airheads who continued their carefree conversations right in front of me, knowing nothing of the world—they were all worthless. I wished every one of them would vanish right this second.
Better yet, I wished a flood would swallow the world and destroy everything! If that happened, I would laugh. With all my heart. Just as the raging black water was beginning to inundate my heart, the lights in the garden cut out. Lovely, glowing dots flared on the tips of the pine and maple branches, over the bridged pond, on the white tablecloths, on the hair and shoulders of the guests, and flickered with the brevity of life. But the particles of pristine, palely winking light purified the gathering and transformed it into a limitless space, guiding us to a dreamy impression of standing in the midst of a cloud of real fireflies.
The girl who had loved like a storm and who at the very end had given off a spectacular flash like lightning and passed away with a smile on her face. I had watched her story all the way to her death. Something in my heart had idolized her, having in her breast emotions I would never possess.
She had shaken loose every restraint and taboo, had chosen the man she loved for herself, and had closed her eyes in his arms. Every time I remember Hotaru, I think that. Hotaru had loved one man to the point that it destroyed her, had lived freely and had died freely. Even though I wanted to paint pictures, I was forbidden to join the art club. In exchange for being given my own workroom at school, I was forced to promise that I would join the orchestra and be its conductor. With rage and despair that could have crushed my heart, I came to see firsthand what happened when my father raised the flag of rebellion against him.
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Without ever loving someone the way Hotaru had? Would I marry the man my grandfather chose, add the fetter of wifehood, and live my entire life as a Himekura? I might be freed if my grandfather died. But when would that be? Ten years from now? That seemed like an absurdly distant future to me right now, and that monster looked as though he could live another hundred years.
The light of the false fireflies flickering in the warm darkness of summer crept to my innermost heart, creaked against the door I was holding shut, and tried to throw it open. The impassive scion said that he was going to his villa in Nice next week and would I like to go with him? I felt such loathing at the poverty of intonation in his refined voice that my skin crawled.
The waves that continued trembling in my chest would not calm. Hotaru—the real firefly—had moved away somewhere far out of my reach. I could never again see her kind, timid smile. I could never watch over her fierce passion. I wondered if that Ryuto Sakurai, who had gotten so frustratingly entangled with Hotaru, was experiencing this feeling of loss, this agitation that seemed to have torn my heart in two.
I promised her. Lemme outta here! No, that three-timing, four-timing excuse for a man was probably just fine, chatting up some other girl right now. Unlike me. You think I would go to Nice? I want to be free now. How long had I been standing here, frozen? A gentle voice that held intelligence called my name.
When I turned around, a tall man wearing a well-tailored suit was standing there. It had only been a short time since Takamizawa had become my chaperone. But I knew that he was an exceptional resource with calm amiability and levelheadedness. Even if he was the chaperone of the Himekura heir, I was still in high school and my father would still succeed my grandfather.
The Lure of the Moonflower
It would be a long time before I could become the head of the Himekura family, and if by some chance, my father or grandfather had a child and it was a boy… My grandfather was no big threat, but my father was still young, so it was entirely possible. If that happened, the leadership would probably pass to that child.
How did he feel about that? But then, with half of August gone by, for some reason I was standing on a mountain road canopied by trees and lit by the sunset, with a perplexed look on my face. I mean, why did I have to get taken from Tokyo for hours in a car to the middle of the mountains in the northwestern countryside?