Draft Reliever
10. Random Could-Writes
R U T H. F A I R C H I L DJournal Ramble #1Reducionothing
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Future paragraphs*Reducio
- "Ruth Fairchild used to believe that if she squeezed her eyes close hard enough, the things she regretted would go away. Yet, she wasn't fast enough to close them as the confession slipped out of her lips."
- "Sol watched with somber eyes as Ruth broke down in front of him, her crystal tears curving down her face and dripping onto the cold stone floor littered with bird feathers. Her robes were stained with drops of salty rain, the source her watery forest-green eyes that held so much pain. "Oh, Sol..." she mumbled, bringing her hand to wipe at the tears still streaming down her cheeks, "I'm a girl they like. But she's the girl they love."
- ”Ruth picked her way through the clutter, dodging the cassettes by narrow amounts as she tiptoed around them, feeling as though a prancing ballerina from the amount of times she had to leap from one gap to another, albeit minimal in space. The dust that she inhaled felt like home, but the tapes before her were strangers. How could she not remember? All those days? She had no energy to attempt to wreck her brain—her mind was numb from everything.
Bending down, she spotted an oddity, one cassette with the sharpest blue as its rectangle cover, and no title at all.”
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QuotesReducio
- "That's all I am I'm just gravity.
Holding people down from being stars."- "As time passed, you moved along with it. But you didn't live."
R A F A E L. K R A U SJournalism #1ReducioI have spent hours in practice, and the results speak for themselves. The target stands at forty meters, yet the distance is meaningless when precision is absolute. I have struck the bullseye countless times—not by chance, nor by luck, but by understanding. The bow does not forgive arrogance. A steady hand, measured breath, and absolute focus—these are the only truths that matter.
Archery is not a test of strength, nor of speed, but of restraint. The untrained hand trembles, the impatient release too soon, and the undisciplined eye follows the arrow instead of leading it. To master the bow is to master oneself—control over breath, over thought, over the fleeting urge to act before one is ready.
The arrow does not hesitate. It knows its path the moment it leaves the string. The question is not whether the arrow will strike true but whether the archer has earned the right to guide it there.
I believe myself to have earned the right to guide it there.
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QuotesReducio
- "I used to put honey onto my fingers just so Butterflies would come to me."
R + RFuture Paragraphs*Reducio
- ”Ruth scringed in the gelid winter, wrapping her red scarf around her neck even tighter and covering her lips in the process. The opalescent mist was blocking the clearing before her. Scarf-swaddled, she took a glance at Rafael. The boy stared straight ahead, venturing in and looking at anywhere but at her scarlet-wrapped countenance. He was stoic amid the frost-laced air, sporting a long sleeved shirt and jeans that didn’t come close to looking warm. He looked as though he was inured to the elements, the blonde hair on his head sweeping almost-grace like as he made phantom threads ahead of her."
- He reached to pass the notebook of his to her, then halted. Ruth could have sworn there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, lips slightly parted as though ready to amit a sigh. Yet the boy restrained himself from doing either and swiftly pulled the book out of her grasp. With a quick, senseless tug, he ripped a page of colour off, the sound eliciting a jolting shock through Ruth. Rafael would have never done such a thing without reason. While he may not value papers as an environemtnalist should, no pages belonging to the journal of his would ever have been treated that way.
Without a word, he jerked the paper back at Ruth, who gingerly slipped it away from him. She traced the edges of the torn with her fingers absentmindedly, hiding her confusion to the unsymmetrical precision, then turned the paper around. She gasped at the sight of the illustration before her, drenched of wster colour and paint. A painting of a camera, her camera came into view.- The Astronomy Tower stood as an unyielding sentinel against the creeping dusk, the last remnants of daylight bleeding gold into the encroaching blue. Rafael stood at the edge, hands folded neatly behind his back, his posture impeccable even in solitude. The cold was an absent thing to him, a mere whisper against his skin. Winter had long since ceased to bite; lingering as though its last final days before death.
Beside him, Fairchild bundled herself in blankets, a small figure against the vastness of the horizon. She shivered despite her precautions, but her teeth did not chatter. That, at least, he could respect. Someone who stood strong against the whipping weather was one who was unafraid and tolerant.
He did not turn toward her when he spoke.
“To play with truth—does it lack taste?” His voice was even, devoid of indulgence, as though the answer were not of great consequence. “One might consider truth to be an immutable thing, a solid structure, but that is a child's illusion. In truth—” he allowed the irony to settle, “—it is malleable, shape-shifting, altered by perception and twisted by necessity. And yet, those who manipulate it are scorned, branded deceivers. What is it, then? A sacred construct, or an artful illusion? If one must bend it to survive, does it become forgery, or adaptation?”
His gaze did not waver from the dying sun. There was something poetic about its slow descent, the way it yielded to the inevitable without protest. It did not beg to stay, nor did it resist its fall. Dignified in its demise. The weak would do well to emulate it.
“The world thrives on contradiction.” He exhaled, his breath ghosting into the air before vanishing, fleeting as the daylight. “They teach children to tell the truth but punish them when it is inconvenient. They claim honesty is a virtue, yet reward those who wield deception with finesse. And so I wonder, Fairchild—” at last, he turned to her, head inclining slightly, gaze sharp, probing—“do you prefer the honest cruelty of a blade or the dishonest kindness of a lie?”
For a moment, there was only silence, the hush of the evening settling over them like a held breath. The weight of his question lingered, suspended between them, demanding consideration. Ruth hesitated, clutching the fabric of her blankets a little tighter, watching the sky as it deepened to indigo. To Rafael, the silence felt like millenia. He was slowly getting used to her long-stringed uttering. Yet, this had stumped her. He was beginning to lose hope in his guide when she stepped closer, presence radiating warm beside him.
“Is that truly a choice?” she mused, voice quiet but steady. “Both cut. Both wound. One is just slower to be felt.” Rafael could hear a hint of a smile on her face, the satisfaction seeping into joy. "Don't you think?"
A flicker of something—approval, perhaps—ghosted across Rafael’s expression, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. He inclined his head ever so slightly.
“Perhaps.”
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QuotesReducio
- Ruth : I'm Ruth. Ruth Fairchild.
Rafael: It does not suit you.
Ruth, shrugging: It's the only one I've got.
Rafael: Perhaps I should come up with something more suitable.- Ruth: Why are you always like this? So...reticent?
Rafael: To roister is to forsake my duty. You, of all people, would not understand that.- Ruth: Draws her name in the sand.
Rafael: Isn't it odd how different this lifetime would be from another if you had had a different name? What you engrave into the ground would have been different. In which case, your identity would have been different.
Ruth: Well, yes. Your.name is your identity. The name others seek for. The name you search up to find its origin to wonder if you truly align with what you are meant to be. If I was named something else, I would have had a different perception of who I am.
Rafael: Hence reason to carry one's name like an honour, a legacy.
Last edited by Ruth Fairchild on 9 Jan 2026, 17:04, edited 4 times in total.
ALMOST EVERYTHING 𝐓he sun rises for everyone, not just those who chase it. |
Draft Reliever
11. Art Experimentations
THREADER TRIBUTES.
01/09/2024
11/09/2024
02/11/2024
02/11/2024
13/12/2024
18/12/2024
26/12/2024
01/01/2025
22/02/2025
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ALMOST EVERYTHING 𝐓he sun rises for everyone, not just those who chase it. |
Draft Reliever
12. Coding
DISCLAIMER: I have not had the time to finish working on completing every single section and am only using this to gauge out the layout before adding proper graphics into everything as the aesthetics do not match right now
DISCLAIMER: I have not had the time to finish working on completing every single section and am only using this to gauge out the layout before adding proper graphics into everything as the aesthetics do not match right now
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DESCRIPTION
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Fear is "What if"
Faith is "Even if"
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| B E F O R E . . . . . | . . . H O G W A R T S |
F I R S T . . . . . | . . . Y E A R |
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| S E C O N D . . . . . | . . . Y E A R |
T H I R D . . . . . | . . . Y E A R |
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| F O U R T H . . . . . | . . . Y E A R |
F I F T H . . . . . | . . . Y E A R |
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| S I X T H . . . . . | . . . Y E A R |
S E V E N T H . . . . . | . . . Y E A R |
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ALMOST EVERYTHING 𝐓he sun rises for everyone, not just those who chase it. |
Draft Reliever
13. BRAINSTORMS
R U T H. F A I R C H I L DTo DoReducio
- Reread, and this should be simple enough to reply to (Dennis).
- Amelia says it's okay to wait, but since you've got a gist you might as well!
- Devon, Clement and Avis thread: 3 people waiting
- Starter for Matt
- Need a lot of brainpower for this one, so keeping it for the last so that I can get a good quality
- Shop
R A F A E L. K R A U STo DoReducio
- Duelling is important.
- Derby thread first. Get it out of the way.
- Basil!
- Ari starter thread
- Tent members
- Visit booths + discuss with Sutton (Summer Camp threads, really)
TitlesThread IdeasReducio
With Ariana Westonfield-Rivera:With Melor Baskakova:Not sure when, but seeing as though both of them do archery...have an archery thread. Their personas will clash, potentially forming rivals or dislike. Yet, their dynamic could be explored so so so well...PLAN RP WITH:Possibly thanksgiving/christmas(?), a business partnership dinner at one of their houses. Rafael is forced to interact and sit with Melor, and their interactions are more awkward than tense.
1. Ivan Baskakova
2. Nikolai Volkov
ALMOST EVERYTHING 𝐓he sun rises for everyone, not just those who chase it. |

















