But Where Was My Body? Where Was I In These Words? What Of This Belonged To Me?

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. ❞

Victoria Chang, Obit

* 𝑯𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑨 𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑩𝑹𝑼𝑺 𝑰 :    𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎 .

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 :   the lush lands of the now-known tenebrae had been one of ruin and darkness long ago.  in the pre-historic age was humanity bestowed with fire, and the waters followed.  as ifrit would gift his sparks, leviathan would gift riverflow.  civilizations would be built with each those tools, but they never ceased their fascination for astronomy and selenology.  where the sun would obtain patron status would man establish solheim, the home of the sun ;  where they would revere the moon, they would establish maniheim, the home of the moon ;  where they would ask the stars for guidance, was the seat of the stjarna people.  maniheim’s and stjarna’s societies were interlocked and influenced each other with their belief in the afterlife, crossroads and prophecies, and had closer relations with each other than with solheim.  and though all three had different celestial objects in focus, they would all greet the dawn warmly.  the global population would worship eos the most as the mother of life.

while solheim was not the only civilization to rise to power, it was the last one to connect people before the astral war split nations apart with babylonic impact.  long has the war lasted and none of their social structures survived.  an era of turmoil gave rise to the darkness that people would soon interpret as the curse of the stars.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐎-𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑 :    during the time of war emerged factions, and the messengers of defeated deity fell from heaven right into the ruins of civilization. some of them, lingering upon maniheim-soil which would simply become known as the "dark land", fell in love with humans and procreated, their offspring dubbed the children of sin.  the line of the fleurets began with skadi, a daughter of sin, born of eos' messenger and a wintery man who originated from the western parts of the continent. she would wander over barren hills, hear the voices of angels, and grew up distanced from her peers.  years pass and she hardly shown any signs of aging, her father long lost to plague and her mother executed. ere she, too, would beget a child with a mortal does bahamut's messenger find her and announce the punishment for her and her descendants : ever shall this blood of molten dawn and rotten light that understands the word of gods bear this burden till the last one falls. ever shall the sons of eos and the daughters of her messenger be the token of guilt.  the draconian shall claim the crossing between clay and ichor.

while skadi had not been bahamut's chosen blood, her daughters and granddaughters would evolve traits closest to the soon-to-appear first oracle aera and her sister gullveig. and gullveig, she'd one day beget another line of descendants with another messenger : selene's.

" tomorrow is cain's first day in school ; time flies, doesn't it? are you excited? " ( modern verse cuz we need wholesome )

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, the stars of the night thrived. motherhood an unsuspecting virtue of unconditional delights and captivating joy. her heart leaps bright and etched upon the face of a once selfish maiden stood an unsullied beacon of maternal pride. your sister has changed, she has grown more in love with the earth than she has ever did before. no longer does she stand aside to linger unattached, quietly burning away her soul's innate desire, rather she exist now with a new sense of purpose. the birth of her son changed everything. it silenced away holy wickedness and instead brought out something so ancient and new. she often wonders if this is how their mother felt when they were brought into this world, how joyous she must have been to watch as they took their first few steps and set off into their next milestone. of course, even she was far from a perfect mother.

often did she struggle with the concept of letting go. she worried too much, doted far too enough, and if it wasn't for her husband's remarkable patience, she might have been the one who was not ready for cain to go to school. but he is his father's child as well, and who was she to get in the way of his growth. to love something so preciously as this, she realize : was terrifying, but was also magnificent and wonderful. glancing upward to her curious child's fixation of plants and mischief, his mother softly smiles in response to your inquiry. "i am more worried than excited, but i know i need to set an example for him. surely, he already has so much on his mind that he doesn't need his silly mother to add any more." o' yes it will be her dear husband who shall suffer through the recieving end of her hesitation come tomorrow's day. but for now, she can make peace with this.

"but you know..." she pauses for a moment before a glint of teasing emerges on her face. a silent nudging between the stars to the moon was made, quietly prodding you as she has always done before when she had wanted something. her eyes bats almost pleadingly right on cue, if only to help convince whatever she had intended to say. " cain is growing up.. without any siblings or cousins to play with. i don't suppose you might be expecting any time soon ? i would ask ravus but alas, you know how he is, and he was not happy when i asked to set him up." // @moonichor

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

𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 .    //    SEL ACCEPTING .

‘ i say this out of pure selfishness. ’    //    @peacedog​ / kazuhira.

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐖𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆     /    𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍.    we may hide this like a nakedness, thought that covering it came close to a selfless, principled act.  but most likely it was just that.  acting.  at times, the lunar pearl, who so silently observed us like an indifferent eye, did wonder herself if this simply made us forget who we were  ---  or if our obscured self shall be left bare, popping out wrathful and mortified and exposed through our agape mouths.  and yes, agape itself consisted of selfishness, too.  we would turn to our god, angry and spiteful about our unacknowledged sacrifices, like neglected children begging for attention.  at least, you were honest enough to admit it out loud.    “ no doubt you do.  but i sense a fraction of bitterness, too.  be careful with it. “    she had warned you many times, and never packaged she it in mockery.  rather... concern than anything else.  if only she was better than this, but you never knew her without her set of needle-words ;  gently, so gently piercing into the flesh.    “ ire is a hungry, growing creature.  i shall loathe to see you more befallen by it than you already happen to be.  it would…  sadden me. ” 

👕   ─  go out wearing matching christmas sweaters ( i dare you )

                                           ↳  from  @moonichor​

                       ❝   C'mon – I think it looks cute! And imagine the look on Noct’s face when he sees this!   ❞   Prompto practically squealed with laughter. The joke was devious, but funny nonetheless. Lady Lunafreya didn’t need much convincing to participate; all the same, he was grateful for her good-spirited comradery.

In their Christmas sweaters, both of them looked festive. The bright red one read ‘I’m with stupid’ and an arrow pointing. On the other, a bright blue background with snowflakes and a captioned picture of Noctis wearing reindeer antlers, which said, 'I’m stupid.’

     ❝   I can’t believe we’re gonna pull this off –  'cause he can’t murder both of us…. One of us is gonna have to take the fall… and I’m sorry to say, Luna, buuut, I think his Majesty is about to save his right-hand man, his best bud, his dashing partner in crime–   ❞    Chuckling as they walked, not realising they were indeed within earshot of the royal they were speaking about.

            ｡:*• ─ IT’S CHRISTMAS TIME !      ›  ( Accepting )

url change from moonichor to selenorites

The Awakening Of The Poet, Gabriel Ferrier (1899)

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