“ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃

 *  𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 ?  

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄      " i wish i could say i am a light that never goes out, but i flicker from  time to time. "    //    oh, little one, you have burned so quietly for so long, haven't you?   burnt yourself out trying to give others light?  wishing, desperately,  that they would notice the way your hands shake or the wildflower  bruises under your tired eyes.  but they never have, have they?  and so,  it obviously wasn't bad?  right?  you had more to give, didn't you?  how  much could you pour yourself out before they noticed ? it is all you've  ever known, after all.  help, help, help, help.    ( are you providing it, or  begging for it? )    but you've given too much, spread yourself too thin, didn't you?  you are  so heavy, so tired.  you have spent your life carrying for others the  way you wished someone would care for you.  but you're worried, aren't  you?  that if you can't be what they need, if you can't be the pillar for  others to lean on, they'll leave you. what you seek is home, a safe  place to rest and be taken care of. and little light, you deserve it.  you have earned it. you are worth more than what you can provide for  others :    you deserve the same care you so freely give out.  they will love  you all the same, honey.  set down the world, and rest that weary heart  of yours. 

tagged by :  @asteriskheart​ tagging :  all of ye

" 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌. and so far, you have endured well. " // @meteorea

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 / 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 ;    some sacred agonies were simply overbearing, over-gobbling, the cosmos eager to sunder and disassemble.  one side too real, the other too dead.  too holy, too eldritch.  they took root and vine as rotten artery-roads through a gilded body.  though your words rang true, your softness lied.  always, always were there lies. ( like hers, like anyone else's.  ) along with the ghosts you soothed you faded before her, and to this, she was regrettably blind.  oh, what feats she would undertake  ---  moving mountains, parting the seas, bending the skies for her twinkling asteria's happiness !  perhaps, this might have been the reason she shan’t know the hidden meaning. your ailment a secret by volition of cold light.    “ fear does even plague ghosts, it is unfortunate such inflicts those who have yet to meet their end, in turn.  ”   herein the irony manifested between two fleuret women and their empathic attributes, their shared compounds tempering sorrow like a balm to a bruise.  hers, a gift to the living    /    yours, to the unliving.  she did rather not admit her particular understanding of a ghost's reasoning for its lingering obstinacy, and that in her own dismays she would stir waters to tremendous dimensions.    “ even so —  i could not blame them.  the light of yonder is too bright and terrifying, too cryptic for them.  what else will it cleanse aside from memory ?  some may not be able to let go of their pain… ”    and their wailing may never be heard, in silence they must weep. 

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 for those whose eyes sees the unknown. the markings of a goddess, it’s plague clouding her vision towards a death-screamed spiral. it suffocates her. the desperation of fallen corpses clinging onto her soul : hungry for vengeance, craving for existence, and when they speak it was honey sung words reaped with veiled treachery. the chaos in her eyes is marred with blood stained tears, yet the night star no longer mourns for its injustice. instead, she carries on pretending she is unbothered / pretending she is above the terror which torments the earth. smile, play her role, she has always been good at acting and running away.  ❝  ——  hmm, what do you think they say ?  ❞  look how patiently the stars deflects their response. her dialect spoken with an air of spacious wonder, dancing on the cusp of religious taboo, with falsehood innocence to match.  ❝  the dead who remains... often feels very wronged.  ❞  there will always be some semblance of truth to her words, but because you are her holy sister, she offers you nothing less than sincerity.  ❝  they do not want to part with the living, so they choose to ignore the summoning of the light above. it hurts them too you see, so they hurt others. or at least some of them do. many of them simply hides. ❞

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐄𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐘𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 , 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.   astral and whimsy.  and wherever they’d go, they would belong.  for a seeress bereft of her home, unbelonging and still half-settled, tied to the arteries of time, the wonder arose frequently when those visions of dust would finally be realized to dust, when the dream of eternity consumed those who fled every passing day from its consumption.  beneath the faint moon-sheen she folded her hands and hummed out her pondering softly.  and even this, cradled within the security of khaenri’ahn walls, would be a state momentarily existing before it did no longer.  “ for the naked eye, it is an unchanging sight, but what seems eternal is, in fact, not.  i believe she wants to remind us about our own evanescence.  that, though we may last long, it shan’t be forever.  even the moon, will disappear one day. “  abruptly did she then acknowledge etiquette might not be appropriately applied to chatter nigh resembling ‘ small talk ‘, not at all the place for philosophies and spills of vague prognostics.   “ forgive me, kind dainsleif, cryptic remarks are a terrible habit i ought to unlearn for private conversations. ” // @reginrokkr

Inteyvat anthers glow in the dead of the night, an announcement of their detachment from the shackles of their filaments to fly towards the nocturne dome specked with their companions-to-be: the stars, and the lonely moon that sheds its frigid, albescent light in the kingdom of darkness. Ever since his arrival to Khaenri'ah, this is the first time Dáinsleif has the opportunity to be on a vantage point like this with an even better company than his own solitude.

Glacial sapphires turn to look at the angelic figure beside him, what little and natural light that reaches Khaenri'ah imprinted on her like she's the source of this luminescence. ❝Many moons has it been since you witnessed this view, yes? Has it ever changed since then?❞

@moonichor ✦

moon snakes, tongues of the dark speak like bones unlocking, leaves falling of a future you won’t believe in

Margaret Atwood, from You Are Happy; The Circe/Mud Poems. (via xshayarsha)

The past beats inside me like a second heart.

John Banville (via quotemadness)

Details: Portrait of Urania, 19th century, British School.

" 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐒 ; or are the deeper interiors leading to the fayth something that unsettles you ? i noticed you have grown tense upon our visits. " // @reginrokkr

Before this moon shall darken, say of me :      “ 𝐒𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄, 𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄. ”

𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐎𝐗 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐓 PORTRAYAL INSPIRED BY MYTHOLOGY.   credits :  graphic / artist

𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐎    /    𝐀 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐌.    quietly, its hymns resounded within her very anatomy. a flicker's rush through spectral atoms as the familiarity of such concept would nudge on the heart ;  a loose memory, too stubborn to be adjusted smoothly into entire recollection.  she pondered on fragmented nostalgia, and a gentle kind of curiosity bloomed from the corners of an unrecorded woe.    “ it does sound demanding, enormously so.  yet, in spite of such strain, you speak so fondly of them.  do you share an affection with your aeons ? ”

❛       aspiring summoners pray to the fayth ————   it can take days for the fayth to respond. if they respond at all. the amount of mental fortitude a summoner requires is astronomical. but if one does succeed,  the fayth heed your call & grant their power. that is how aeons came to be. it's a strong connection that cannot be replicated or broken. every aeon is special. every fayth, unique.     ❜    @moonichor