𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 .    //    SEL ACCEPTING .

“ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 , 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 ?  are they reveling in bliss, or do they agonize? “ // @asterites

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍  ;  x.

‘ 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐀𝐘 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄    /    𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄. ‘    eos’ populus harbored its own awareness regarding tribute in exchange for divine boon, and so, too, had children who were necessitated to grow solitary into the rule of cruel fate.  among the silent pantheon favored their king the concept of sacrifice specifically.  a haloed body, offered to redeem the sins of many, a structural rite as old as time.  for such, she was ne’er taught alternatives, too holy the word that she could ever question blood-soaked blessings.    ( should one call this bravery or, rather, lunacy ? )    in fact did the practice of oblation burn deeply into each mundane obligation, a life baptized and groomed and molded based on pure devotion ;  how ought she ever entertain another route ?  and in spite of such unthinkable idea, must she admit appreciation for its innocent source.  you, of self-preserving stubbornness against hardships, might not have imagined the consequence in withdrawing from the preordained journey toward the sacramental altar.  

upon the stone of the chosen site for rest had minor struggles manifested.  with slight amusement conducting her laugh did she assist ;  ropes tied to knots, poles pillared against, covers succumbed to her neat tug.  it was a clumsy little ordeal, but a cheerful one as well, she noted, as blankets unfurled within the interior of this tent-shelter.     “ it is not so bothersome.  i understand my position, the distance between them and me, and it would be unfair to not acknowledge that, for plenty of the people, to address me so is an expression of respect, but formalities are not a strict requirement for me.  to foster relations with allies on a personal basis and equal grounds can be a wonderful thing, too. ”    to unravel her own stance in a matter that exposed her lonesome did not come with ease.  in all the reverence called she herself anything but admirable, not by far could she qualify as a noble-driven figurehead ;  yet mused every story the same thing :  somewhere, somehow, someone must manufacture softness to a crown and compassion to a shepherd’s crook.    “ nonetheless, i am curious, and particularly worried, about your circumstances.  how is it that a young boy such as you is committing to such dangerous tasks ?  is there no guardian who would be concerned for your safety ? ” // @hamadaxfighter

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. ❞

“ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 , 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐓 , 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐘.    they are sung as praise to heavenly objects and the salvation of the light which shall purify them of their blight, including our own agonizing world. ”    as though numerous times recited on command, the response swiftly slithered in resonance, words rolling off the tongue akin to doctrinal lecture.  she wished she could individualize it. she wished she cared for these melodies more than the duty thereof.  her fate, already a sealed verse, woven betwixt the lines. and she struggled --- she struggled, awfully so, to embody the very contents of what she sang : to simply hope with each awakened god.    “ along with ruins we find scattered around the eosian globe, those are the few remains of an era immemorial.  it is rare for anyone to understand this old language, and, therefore, not surprising if you find it more puzzling rather than coherent. even experts struggle to translate them.  my family has honored such hymns for centuries with the help of messengers, but—  if i may confide in you…  sometimes, i tire of them, just a little. ”

confession of a secret, carried in whispers behind closed doors, doubtfully stung any more than the fact of its existence ;  and to render herself vulnerable to one who proved himself ever so curious every day consisting of shared struggles and battles and rest, hardly shall be considered strange.  although in the eyes of seraphs this was unbecoming, why would she not do so, if not a single of your own words, disclosed within a silent moment between gunshots, could be forgotten ?  to her, this night still existed. your revealed wounds then still very visible, now obscured by your laughter and artificial confidence. and thus, it was one burden for another.  a fair trade which she wrapped in the pretense of a chuckle. “ don't judge me too harshly, okay ? ”

❝ —— the songs you sing, what do they even mean ? ❞ @moonichor

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

Lady Lunafreya

now that i could reflect on the game's contents here is a ff16 verse. these points are not entirely spoiler free. some built on information taken from the archive, still is going to be tagged as spoilers so read with caution.

members of the fleuret family have their origins in the 'motes of light', the ancestors of most of sanbreque's nobility into which bahamut's dominants tend to be born. few descendants of these peoples migrated out of sanbreque's ever expanding borders and settled in a far eastern part of the northern territories, first given the name 'maniheim' and later simply called 'the dark land', now only separated from sanbreque and its capitol oriflamme by a large lake. though their blood mixed with other lines during the ages, the fleurets still have a high affinity with light magic and bahamut, which is why a lot of their noble blood has ties with the imperial family as both nations fostered an alliance in the past. blessed with divination and a connection with celestial bodies, some of them would even be sent to the empire to become highly valued astrologers to the ruling head and enjoy privileges no bearer could ever imagine.

due to the blight spreading after the collapse of drake's eye, the people had to flee and intermingle with sanbreque's society once more in the last seven to eight decades. while a large portion of the populous was lost, some others established small communities. the fleuret family however, became a controversial noble complex and political tools, ever exploited in exchange for the empire's 'hospitality', exposing biases and double standards in comparison to the treatment of common born bearers. basically, they are useful 'guests'.

similar to eikons manifesting in dominants, some of which already occurred before the downfall of the ancient civilization ( one example being shiva ), so would the power of celestial objects manifest in generations of the fleuret line and their nocturnal oracles, this includes the sun, the moon, and specific stellar constellations, eventually to be associated with deities. it is through this awakening that the myth of metia as a messenger to the heavens takes its roots, and that the moon, embodied by a lunar oracle, answers the prayers metia would bring her.

while lunafreya practices divination, so was she also born a talented medic to sylva, who under mysterious circumstances passed away, yet, the excessive use of that blessing wears on her body. her brother ravus, having joined the military of sanbreque's knights, hoped to ensure the semi-protected position of lunafreya and their sister stella within the empire, nevertheless, with sylvestre's growing greed, even she could not be spared to become an instrument for his wars, likely separating the siblings.

personally i would like her to reach beyond her 20's for once, thusly be around clive's age, and won't meet her end at least until after the second time-skip, if arguably so.

since luna so deeply enjoys gardening, she may or may not nurture an aether-blue variation of the otherwise white or lilac wyvern-tail, right next to a small chapel dedicated to greagor, where she treats the ailments of the poor whenever she is able.

affiliation wise, she is mostly neutral, but would find herself supportive of dion's revolt. for the emperor and the empress she feels nothing but cold indifference. to clive and his party she will potentially be The Cryptic NPC.

𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 .    //    ACCEPTING .

‘  the handsome fellow that’s trying to rescue you from a hideous fate is never wrong.  ’   //    @asterites​​​

𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.    that said, while the wit with which it was conveyed, and the context thereof, robbed her embarrassingly of all her excuses, it contradicted with each principle an oracle absorbed and internalized.  hence, her first impulse was to dismiss  —   but what exactly provoked it ?  that her fate threatened a hideous undertone ?  that he, the silly hero, had all intentions to rescue her ?    (  or that he was ... handsome … ?  )    none of these points were untruths and, still, she argued.  still, she made a case for dispute  :    “ he is wrong.  i needn’t be rescued from a particular destiny that i have not chosen  — ”    but with the lakes of fire in their home of darkness, with the heads of conquered children at a gunpoint, and their betrayed roots, had it been a free decision, or unsought necessity ?   ‘ i chose this ‘    on repeat and with effort, the line transformed to conviction, did it not ?  a conviction as real as one to serve an empire which, more than once, manufactured tools out of the flesh of loved ones.  a conviction of devoting to a life of conserved rite.  a conviction that, rather than following survival instincts, there was a choice, at all.

notice, a frown pinching into pallor and a crooked line that ought to resemble a smile, but did it terribly so, marred her pretty visage as her spoken point dilated to the nonsensical.  the denial so outstretched, it portrayed no longer her own instilled thought.    “ it is not that i want him to do this for me, or that he should continue it.  moreover, he is quite hypocritical ... ”    you see, every day, solheim’s high priestess lied through her teeth.  about a good, giving godhead and redeeming salvation under the throne of his mercy ;  about worship and a cause greater than the worshipers.  every day, she lied about picking up the skeletal remains of a dormant faith, and promised to her subjects a myth cased in crystal.  in turn, she lowered her secrets into the coffin of her past, in hopes the valkyric goddess would find and care for them behind valhalla’s fog and the rotting dreams of sorrowful mwynn.  then she smothered that memory, until her woes emptied and interchanged with robes and a scepter invoking divination, forgot what other purpose her hands served than to reach for the voided universe.  for this reason, she lied again, and again, and again ;  until she believed she wanted the barren holiness, and found herself utterly bemused by the absolute ease it required to welcome festering love to creep through the spaces between her gilded ribs.

“ …  he is so …  stubborn, and foolish.  he does not listen, and i  —  ”    oh, look at her.  poor, wretched woman.  suddenly, her hands were meant to touch the heart of another, and the lies were mouthed with naught more than displeasure ;  for there was this man who learned to know her beyond them, as well as she acknowledged his reckless, careless, endearing whimsicality.  his clumsy struggles and lovable qualities.  and, truthfully, resistance could only be considered an impossible effort.  the thought of such alone torturous enough that she preferred to be snapped out of it by the curious impressions within the glance of her starry sibling  —  the sheer tease radiating off of the silent expression suggested full awareness of the remaining contents within the muffled sentence.    “ don’t you look at me like that now.  besides, something tells me a similar experience plagues and blesses you. ”

hi so, i have decided to re-brand this blog, this serves more in terms of picking a new url and of stating the obvious of how interactions will continue here.

obviously, i'm not as active with luna as i used to be the first time i wrote her, which was ages ago, and it will likely never going to be the case again. luna will continue to exist as a muse for, quite literally, the 'whenevers'. i am aware, this will be unattractive for some people who need regular and consistent activity and interaction in order to keep their own blogs going themselves, but that just means this blog isn't for you and that's okay. that being out of the way, with the reduction of potential interest because of this, i'm far more likely to come back to interactions that contain dynamics or concepts which have been discussed and established prior. i am no longer going to write interactions on here where i have to assume the dynamic or assume where i can potentially take it, however if we did discuss something substantial to look forward to i will reply to what we have even if it takes me a long time. just recently i dug up an ancient thread, put it in my docs, and wrote a few paras out of a whim. again, if time is of the essence to you and you equate my pace to the amount of interest i have, this will not be the blog for you.

i did notice there are some threads that do still have potential but they are super old and are still written in the legacy editor, and naturally it's going to get messy THEREFORE if there weren't too many reblogs involved in a thread we can just repost it and keep moving from there ( provided the other person still wants to ).

i've been weird with prompts tbh, i haven't reblogged a single in-character prompt post since over a year i think. i figure people will send random stuff and that's enough for me! you can send random stuff just pls be patient, thanks.

my ass cannot write beyond four paragraphs anymore and i don't know why. it takes otherwise far too long even if its on a blog i'm frequently on. my energy is limited, especially on a physical basis. please don't take this as me not putting all my efforts or thoughtfulness into my replies. it's just that i can simply no longer 'match energy' so to speak.

ok thats it for now, i wanted to get this off my chest before i create too many expectations lskdfjlskdfdj