Les Mystérieuses Cités d'Or

est-ce que "Sa machine ailée" est la suite de"Nos chemins sous la lune"

Non je ne crois pas

chaton a écrit : 07 mai 2020, 10:35 est-ce que "Sa machine ailée" est la suite de"Nos chemins sous la lune"

C'est la suite chronologique, mais pas narrative. Sa Machine Ailée se passe en 1534 et Nos Chemins sous la Lune commence en 1517, mais je pense qu'il vaut mieux les lire dans l'autre sens.

SMA introduit le concept de la transchrysation et le personnage de Killa; NCL raconte l'histoire de cette dernière, supposé qu'on sait déjà qui elle est. Perso je pense qu'on peut les lire comme on veut, l'ordre que j'indique sur Archiveofourown (https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661509) n'est qu'une suggestion.
Par contre il faut lire Serres de Lune après Nos Chemins sous la Lune, c'est la suite directe. Et il vaut mieux avoir lu Sa Machine Ailée pour comprendre The Condor's Last Flight, aussi.

En gros, ce sont des histoires qui explorent le même concept, c'est pourquoi elles sont dans la même série. Mais au delà de ça, il n'y a pas d'ordre à proprement parler. Toutes mes fics ont une chronologie et s'inscrivent dans une temporalité bien définie, mais c'est juste car j'aime les continuités.


En gros: fais comme tu veux, je me contente de suggérer.

Ah ben merci je savais pas

Maintenant tu sais :p

C'est juste un truc que j'adore. Relier les histoires entre elles, forger des timelines, disséminer des indices d'une fic à l'autre pour les relier, clairement marquer le moment qui dévie une chronologie genre "Si X se passe, alors on est dans la timeline Y avec ses histoires bien définies; mais sinon, on est dans la timeline Z qui regroupe d'autres histoires". Si vous voulez que je partage ma frise bien définie, je peux.

Vu que le prochain chapitre viendra pas de sitot. J'ai pas d'idées.

C'est vrai que c'est intéressant.

Sandentwins a écrit : 07 mai 2020, 16:15Vu que le prochain chapitre viendra pas de sitot. J'ai pas d'idées.

Meuh si, moi du passé. Mais si que t'en as des idées.

Chapter 14: Questions

“What do you think even is in the Cities of Gold?”, Leon asked, looking up from his tablet. “Is there like...riches?”

“It's more than that.”, Tina replied between two glances around. “It's supposed to be knowledge beyond anything imaginable.”

“So, like school? I'd take the riches. At least, gold pays the bills.”

“We're not doing this debate again.”

He rolled his eyes, and kept typing away at some game. Really, only little kids could be interested in pixels when there was such beauty to behold, Tina thought. Her paranoid doubts quelled, she returned her attention to the sea ahead of her, watching the waves gently hit the sand.

Evening was falling, and they've had to land the Condor; they've chosen a little beach in a touristic town, two hours away from Mexico City. A nice change of pace, if they could afford to take in the sights, which Tina was convinced they couldn't. But even she had to take it easy after a while, and agree that some of these places were very pretty. She's never seen the sea before, and now that she's spent five minutes in front of this scenery, she wondered what all the fuss has been about. It was pretty, sure, but at the end of the day it was just water.

Though she did like the way it tickled her bare feet. Well, check that off her bucket list.

“Life's not all about riches. Sometimes it's more.”

“Money doesn't buy happiness, but it sure helps.”

“Stop talking like a spoiled kid. Enjoy what you have, dimwit.”

“What I have is a headache.”

He crumpled up the wrapper of some cold-cut sandwich she'd bought in a nearby gas station, and shoved it in a pocket of Tina's bag already full of random wrappers. She barely noticed it, busy as she was watching around for people coming this way.

“Stop being paranoid.”, he sighed. “We're alone. What do you want to happen?”

“I don't want things to happen. I'm just making sure they don't.”

Not far on the beach, the Condor's still-cloaked silhouette was overlooking the beach, water tracing the shape of its feet as it lapped past. No one's discovered it yet, and no one likely would. They'd be safe, the beach was closed off for the evening. It would be good, she thought. It'd all be good.

Out of habit, she checked her phone. As usual, no messages awaited her, and she felt some relief at that. She dreaded to think what kind of hatred would await her on her usual number, but preferred not to ponder too much on it. It could wait. It would all wait.

Since they could get some wifi from a nearby resort in, she decided to check her social media accounts, and log out of them for good measure. Let's not betray her position, it'd mean bad stuff. However, as she checked them one by one, she ended up noticing something.

She's received a mail, on her otherwise empty inbox. And upon reading the first line, she rose a high brow.

“...hey, stripeface. You might want to check this out.”
[...]

Read the rest at https://archiveofourown.org/works/23790 ... s/57935200


Aussi, je pense que d'ici le prochain chapitre ou deux, on aura dépassé Nos Chemins sous la Lune en terme de mots. On est déjà au delà des 50 000 et je m'imaginais pas faire autant.

Also, crack fanart. Because Joey/Diaspro is just meant to be.

While I'm thinking up the rest of The Condor's Last Flight, have a little short I wrote for the Wayra AU. Celle où Athanaos parvient à garder Esteban, qui du coup s'appelle pas Esteban.

The Wind in his Sails: What Stars are Made of

It was a tiny tug to his sleeve that woke up Athanaos.

He opened sleepy eyes, trying to see what was going on. His child's face appeared in the darkness, his eyes still moist with tears; no need to guess what was going on.

"Bad dream?", he asked in a tired voice.

Wayra nodded, letting out a little whimper. Athanaos didn't say anything else, and simply lifted up his blanket, gesturing for him to hop aboard. Wayra didn't need to be told twice, and climbed into the bed, snuggling up to his father's chest.

"There, there...", Athanaos whispered, wrapping up the trembling child. "It's going to be alright, sunbean."

"It was scary...", Wayra hiccuped, arms wrapping tight around his dad like a lifeline.

"You want to talk about it?"

"No. Too scary."

Athanaos shrugged, and held the child close, gently rubbing his back to soothe him. He felt so small, so fragile in his embrace, like a bad dream was enough to scare him to the core.

"It's alright.", he continued. "No one will hurt you. I'm here, I'll protect you."

Wayra buried his face in Athanaos's shirt, and the man hugged him closer. Slowly, he started humming, hoping it would calm his muted sobs. It took several minutes, for any bad dream was the scariest nightmare a child could ever have, but Wayra eventually quieted, calmed down by his father's presence.

"There, there. See? It's going better already."

Wayra looked up, his golden eyes still moist with tears.

"You'll protect me from the scary?"

"I will. I'll protect you and keep you safe, always."

He kissed his forehead, and Wayra seemed to calm some more. He settled atop his father's chest, and Athanaos kept rubbing his back, trying to get him to sleep. But Wayra's restlessness was starting to wake up as well, for soon after the child looked up again.
[...]

Read the rest at https://archiveofourown.org/works/18028 ... s/58027507 parce que ya pas de raisons

Fantastic !

Chapter 15: Bones

“So what's that thing for?”, Leon asked for the fifth time.

“It's a caliper. For taking measures.”, answered the archeologist with an increasingly annoyed tone. “Don't you have anything else to do?”

“The prof said we were welcome here. So I'm making myself welcome.”

He picked up a random folder, looked through.

“What are all of these?”

“Important data! Put that down.”

“You're no fun. Hey, what's this thing?”

“Don't touch that! It's sensitive!”

“Is it like, a radiation measurer?”

“I said put it down, it's expensive equipment!”

“I'm not breaking it!”

He turned a dial at random, and the archeologist yoinked it out of his hand.

“Hey, you!”, he called out. “Get your brother out of here!”

A distance away, Tina didn't feel like entertaining his request.

“He's not my brother.”, she shrugged. “So that's not my problem.”

And so Leon resumed his mischief, for the simple goal of being a little shit. Honestly, it was as entertaining as could be in a place like this. But soon, she grew bored of his trolling, and returned to watching the excavation take place.

The team she was following had unearthed more stone steps, that would likely have led to some catacombs. The day was moving through, and they could get some shade from the nearby mountain as the sun carried on its course. Field work was extensive work, and nothing too exciting had happened so far, but Tina felt right in her element. She's been following one of the work teams, observing their work and their methods, compiling everything in her research notes. They didn't mind her, but largely preferred her relative silence and genuine interest over Leon's relentless, bored meddling. They've even let her help brush dirt off stone engravings, which felt like the highest honor she's ever been bestowed. How great was that? She was helping research! Perhaps Professor Diaspro's invitation was a good thing after all.

The man's been pretty elusive. Being head of the project, he was very busy with the more administrative side of things, always busy with some phone call or report. Tina would have liked to ask him more questions about what he knew of the Golden Condor, but there just was no reaching him for the time being, so she'd need to be patient. Well, she supposed it could wait a little; in the meantime, she'd learn what she could, for this place had all sorts of interesting things about it.

“These carvings are very old.”, someone had commented. “They are unmistakably Mayan in origin, but they do not look like what we know so far.”

Everything had mysteries. Everything had secrets. Perhaps there was no way they'd ever be discovered.

Emphasis on perhaps.

When no one was looking, Tina approached the set of carvings under the pretense of sketching them. Making sure no one was around for now, she carefully grazed her fingers against the stone.
[...]

Read la suite à https://archiveofourown.org/works/23790 ... s/58089385 parce que y'a plus de respect