* // 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 .
* // 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 .
𝘼𝙯𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙤𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙜𝙖𝙯𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙨, the sun beams mockingly, citizens gathering in fear and concern for that which will become of their beloved city. Prompto was merely a pawn in the game. Still, if he could make any difference… ( would it make a difference ?? )
Just beyond the window he dissociates from, a small patch of flowers, a yellow hue, but too far off that Prompto couldn’t distinctively label them. Swaying this way and that, carefree, petals caressed by gentle breeze. Oh, what a gift that must be. To be free.
𝑨 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚.
They deserved that; he deserved that. They survived. Was that enough? Was it fair that they were to live when many others had perished?
He could not have predicted how long the Oracle had been witness to his sighs and exhales. Stance mostly relaxed, hands in pockets, elbows bent slightly. Every few minutes would he shift, unable to stay still for long; he was far too anxious.
Though something made him look over his shoulder, lips dividing and shifting to address her once he acknowledged her presence. ❝ — Lunafreya! I uh… Sorry – didn’t see you standing there …. ❞ A posture of respect, appropriate for royalty, this to be their first encounter that wasn’t amidst the masses.
It was as if she could see the inner sketchings of his mind, scribbled on notebooks that were scrapped and discarded, never to be considered again.
❛ 𝑤𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑖𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒. ❜ @ereipiia / @moonichor + luna
An unnerving noise. Momentarily paralysed in shock. And as he tries to minimize the appearance of rudeness, his lips meet in a thin line. Briefly looking outside, once again, he lightly bites the inside of his cheek. No doubt he knew what she was stating was true.
❝ … Suppose none of us want our deaths to be in vain, though… ❞
𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 , 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇. rightfully so, she pensively inferred, by mustering visions of the demanding sea : its harrowing, pitiless currents were to extract sylva’s daughter from the living world, and edged alone at glistening patterns was (im)mortality preordained to hunt her, the blue pigment of sylleblossom weeds pressed against her cheeks. most ironic, therefore, to find a city, as illustrious as the altissian grandeur, to be so intimately surrounded by aquatic chant and the under-worldly domain of a serpentine goddess, whose anticipated waking hour prompted an abrupt halt to the peace of its dwellers ; gave the common salt-flavored air a concerning density.
as per historic routine, man loved his gods, until he feared them.
fear, however, was an unavailable luxury in close proximity with the impending tipping-point of diurnal scales. and what good was fear, if it instilled no power to prevent eos’ waning ? what good was fear, if it only petrified ? yet, we shan’t let it be forgotten that fading and blending into obsidian blood guaranteed the end of the road for all oracles, from first to last — produced to alleviate the world, except their own person. ever since life paraded itself as a condition of endurance, she hardened the heart and numbed her lachrymal reflexes to the certain and uncertain. ( endure endure endure / live live live — akin to a vista of flowers outside the torrent’s edge ; akin to those flowers under this frame, visibly frail, yet persistent against ramuh’s breath. )
“ … ” her silhouette but a half-ghostly husk, vague on the window glass, brooding in the mirror, tugged between alive and wordlessly falling apart. with sharp thought, her own quietude ceased to extend itself, and instead allowed the unspoken to be spoken. “ i concur — to vanish unfulfilled and meaninglessly is an undesirable outcome. ” though admitted with rare personal honesty, it came with the cost of regret. the occasion to meet a sweet, old friend ought not to be besmirched with doom and gloom. click of heels met tiling, while the somberness re-sculpted itself to absolute indifference in the face of events she expected but had yet to occur. an indifference she mastered exceptionally well with the petite mask of a friendly facade.
“ did i startle you earlier ? my apologies. it was very inappropriate of me. ”
More Posts from Selenorites and Others
Anyway I am a fan of luna being angry and passive aggressive sometimes, so whatever verse I go with, she won't be nice to him.
lunafreya “ he stabbed me in the guts and slapped me in the face but i’m going to sympathize with him anyway “ nox fleuret
Luna mancante avanti l'alba - Filippo Palizzi
Like for a short starter if you dare
𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐑𝐄-𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 ; for their stories to be re-told and nevermore forgotten. even the dead grieved in forsaken tongues, silenced tongues, mouthing entombed names. removed and re-fabricated historic fairy tales. with that premise she had risen along thrill-embodied, shrouded in gold and silk and feverish interest. “ then let us hurry, lest somnus catches and infects us with his sour mood at this fine hour. ” her tease was as merciless as her titter was melodic ; gone quieter with synchronized steps, two arms entangled in one friendly knot. the angels still observed them in their far too enthusiastic escape, shortly halted at the edge of the road where they called for the ride that would carry them away from their prayers. ( when was the last time we were mere girls ? ) the lofty governor, the dragon among gods, did not desire their nostalgia of this simpler time ; devotion now a law to be followed under his iron fist, and by the lamenting heart of eos, the dawn since ebbed into a loveless retreat. stepping into the carriage’s interiors, she falls into the besotted trance at the sight of forest-green beyond the small window-frame, waiting patiently to be explored. “ perhaps, i, too, needed an excuse for a day of freedom, and i am most grateful you asked me to join you. ”
Hands lightly pressed together, ghost of smile peeking out from behind gloved fingers. Although subdued ( a blank canvas, white and pristine and empty, for heavenly words must shine pure through mortal coloration ), budding excitement leaked through the cracks of the vessel’s impeccable poise. ❝ Wonderful ! ❞ The lavish yet modest accommodations granted by the town for their momentary repose was nice, but she yearned to peer into remnants of times bygone. For but a fleeting, almost even restless moment, silence draped its limpid cloak on her. Imagining what lay before them weaved an entrancing work of art, mind swept under the tide of anticipation beckoning her to search for what had been long forgotten. Perhaps it’s unbecoming to devote so much of her attention beyond sacred duty, conveyance of the holy grace of the gods, but as she rose from her chair, sleeves undulating with the brief motion, steps ached to carry her forth to the mysteries of the unknown all the same. Fortune smiled upon Aera, for her to be blessed by the stars with a sister who humoured her fanciful interests. ❝ Adventure is what you shall receive then. I seek to walk along the paths laid out within the ancient ruins of the forest to the east. There will be much to see ! Once word of it reached me, I knew I had to go. ❞
The Burmese Harp (1956) dir. Kon Ichikawa.
𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐃 , 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐋𝐘. when the heavens laughed, the hysteria would thrust its cosmic authority underneath the skin like a stubborn malady. you sought out the moon, coldly engaged in her distant waltz, and like typhon, you sought her out as prey to crack open that which shall entrap you inside its very cells. this must be a mere star-riddled jest, a divine comedy akin to a dream from which you and her shall waken, but it came closer to a puppet-play rendered by and for one sadistic observer who wanted to see them flail, limp to the ground, and then tried the scenario the other way around.
she flickered like a temporary gleam upon glass, a specter woven of celestial taint, every peeking gaze was a glimpse of yours, a steady mimicry of motion locking symmetrically into you. where the light shone, therein fell the shadow, and she was one of bleached darkness. the inverse of death was the birth of something apocalyptic, the fear of it. the fear of birth was a fear of someone’s arrival. they repurposed you to an antichrist within messiah flesh, a repetition of history, replay of a replay. a cycle that shan’t ever break in two. from your ankles she then squirmed loose, asymmetrical fleck struggling across dirtying rock, composing her ragged breaths. the inverse shadow would still hold onto more shadows, the host urging to get rid of her.
a body could not be without the casting of its contour, so what would occur upon the law-breaking success of such amputation ? the collapse of an atom ? the erasure of information which could usually not be erased ? she did not plan to allow these impossibilities to become phenomena, not without efforts made with blood and tears and sweat. “ noctis, please, listen to me ! ” she called upon you when you called upon her. although she stumbled back up warily, within cyan there sparked some irrational hope, some desperate venture for a dying light. when the heavens laughed, the hysteria stringed two puppets into their play and surrounded them with night-bred daimons who blended their hell into the stage. // @royalarms
WRETCHED ARE THE KINGS THAT SERVE DARKNESS FROM THEIR HAUNTING TONGUES . he's traveled so far on his lonesome , his only company : the ghastly words that cut through his mind & the lead of the snow - white messenger that blinds him in the darkness , the north star that beckons him unto the moon . there is an ever - looming presence of pain that taunts him from his every joint , & every wear at his muscles . it feels heavy , like its seeping through his flesh & corrupting him from the inside , just waiting to reach his veins in crooked efforts toward inevitable possession .
. . . [ luna . ]
he battles these ' thoughts ' on a near - constant basis , beckoning them toward the light of his soul so that they may be washed away with it . the battles are ceaseless , however , & one man can only endure for so long . at times , they have their way with him , all - consumed , & he plays the role of their vessel . a puppet strung to their fucked up marionette .
. . . [ luna . ]
even now , he follows pryna's guide as she warps into something threatening , something evil , & he strives so hard to dismiss the awry transformation , but it the ability to do so seems so far away from him . everything feels so real . this false illusion of existence , a reality warped in the throes of nightfall . their rage lights a flame , crimson , beneath his eyes , irises glowing through the dimness of their surroundings & his only goal [ luna ] distorts into something monstrous .
' i have to get to . . . '
& he looks down to see a girl in white , defending herself . against . . . who ? . . . him ? shit . . . dusk has fallen & his scream tears through the atmosphere .
. . . ❛ LUNA ! ❜
@moonichor
❝ sometimes the monsters we least expect are the most dangerous. ❞
The saying finds itself holding a topsy turvy perspective within his mind. Through voyaging beyond the stars and across the countless chasms of reality, watching the many ways life flourished or corroded, where people involved within his particular journey as starseekers were thrust into the chaotic grasp of Darkness one way or another, it left him... confused.
For there were many who also heralded the ends days that could produce an instinctively deep fear, the sort that could squeeze and claw at the very matter of your being, Sora's lips thinned as a hum escaped. So where does Luna's words find their lot in this system of experience?
Monsters made through relationships lost? Sides of the self that were all too eager to crawl to the surface, casting away restraint in terms of desire fulfilled? Or, by chance she encountered threats that found pleasure and purpose in intentionally keeping out of sight.
"Heheh, I can't really tell if it's bitter surprises or what you can see deep down that winds up being the worst. ..I'm not sure what I can really least expect at this point anymore."
The day power found itself burning bright within his hands was simultaneously marked by a day of betrayal. Ruin surrounded him, childhood whimsy and dreams smashed against the sea glazed rocks of a calamitous stretch, all while a great darkness lorded above destiny islands. When it came to Riku, in some ways, ..that wasn't the least expected. There was a discomfort that wormed heavily into their gang at the islands.
His distance as a thirst for adventure and an unknown promise allowed the intoxicating sweetness of false promises blind him.
So how about another? When that same individual ripped that strength back to it's rightful heir, when his companions that grew dear decided to follow duty instead of standing by their bond.
A monster known as helplessness had torn and burrowed into his rib cage then. Despite the outcome now days being a lot more positive, that all encompassing feeling that wanted to choke his Heart makes shivers creep through his being even now.
"..Is that another case of least expecting? When all courage within you could disappear from just one little moment?"
If only he could see the pain that contorts his face into such a firm gaze.
@moonichor
“ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 , 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 ? are they reveling in bliss, or do they agonize? “ // @asterites
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