#Antique Brass and Crystal Lamps
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Hestia Deep Divs
Herbs • Chaste trees, Rosemary, Parsley, Basil, Sorrel, vanilla, Cinnamon, coriander, Marjoram, Mint, Lemon balm, cloves, clary sage, Allspice, Angelica, Coriander, poppy seed, chamomile, Angelica, Bay, garlic, mint, peppermint, pepper, marjoram, The lavender, the chaste tree, the datura, the California poppy, the goldenrod, the hollyhock, the yarrow, the purple coneflower, all white flowers, Lavender, White roses, angel’s trumpet, goldenrod, hollyhock, and yarrow, pine, Wildflowers & sunflowers, raspberry leaves, sage, pearly everlasting, yellow rose
Animals• pigs, donkeys, one-year-old cows, a Crane.
Zodiac & scared number • unknown, I cannot find out what month she was born on, or the day. But I would associate numbers 1, and 6 because she is the oldest and the youngest (and etc, but who even likes my rambles?)
Colors •Gold, yellow, orange, red, White, Gold, Lavender, light purple, black, silver, and dark red
Crystal•Carnelian, Garnet, Goldstone, Calcite, Topaz, garnet, amethyst, lapis lazuli, green tourmaline, Vanadinite, Quartz, gold, silver, and brass, Amber colored crystals, citrine, clear quartz, sunstone.
Symbols• a kettle, the hearth (fireplace), torch, candle
Jewelry you can wear in their honor• friendship bracelets
Diety of• the virgin goddess of the home and hearth fire, cooking of meals, and sacrificial food for feasts, architecture, domesticity, family, and the state, and sacrificial flame
Patron of where the families ate and congregated, hospitality, family.
Offerings• give her prayer beads that remind you of her that are not Christian (or make one, which is better), wooden beads, Oil Lamps, Seven Day Candles (because they burn for 7 days), LED Candles, A Candle that reminds you of home, White or red candles, Apple juice, cider, Wine, Baked goods, keys to the home (preferably not stolen(looking at Hermes devotees))), Small kitchen antiques/objects, pottery/cups/bowls, artwork of homey things, a meal, your favorite things, poetry, books, items you made, fall-themed stuff, spring-themed stuff, First/last foods & libations from a meal, Candles/flame, Honey, Pork, Cakes or Cookies made to look like one of Her symbols,), Keeping a candle/hearth fire or lamp constantly burning, Pictures of homes you want to live in one day, pictures of homes you have lived in, Pictures of architecture that you like, Teacups, teaspoons, tea towels, Childhood memories (ex- stuffed toys, baby clothes, old photos), Homegrown herbs, Toys or art of donkeys and pigs, Leaves or blooms from a chaste tree, Tea light candles (real or fake), Your favorite poetry or poetry you have written for Her, Your favorite books, Stories you have written, Art of flames, fire, candles, Garmets that you have made such as clothing, blankets, beanies, Homemade lotions, bath bombs, shower gel, bubble bath (You can ask Her to bless them then use them she probably won't say no), Beeswax products, honey, olive oil, pumpkin pie
Devotional• Pick up rubbish in communal areas, Offer the first or last bites/portions of food your to her, Cooking/baking for yourself or others, Having a candle lit whenever possible (electric or real), playing a video of a fire place, Volunteerring at homeless or DV shelters, donating to homeless or DV shelters, Setting healthy boundaries with friends and family, reading about Tea/Coffee magick, Getting involved with your local community, Advocating for policies you believe will better the community Allowing yourself to rest, Do a chore you've been putting off for a long time, organize to hang out with some loved ones, Veil or bind your hair, Wear something red or orange, Make a devotional playlist for her, make a Pinterest board or a mood board for her, Learn about kitchen witchery, Cook a meal in her name, Clean the House, Put together a puzzle, Eat popcorn and watch a movie, do Knitting, read about knitting, donate yarn and
knitting supply’s, prepare food for family, make the table before eating, garden, Harvest berries, pick flowers, Donate to food charity/drives, Support people who lost their homes to natural disasters, Welcoming others into your home, Keeping the peace (especially in the home), Donations of time & money to Habitat for Humanity, Do little (or big) acts of kindness, If you have a fireplace light it for Her or build Her altar around it, Meditate next to a fire, Read poetry or a book, play a playlist for Her and play it while you clean or cooks, Clean your house/room and keep it nice and tidy, Take a cooking or baking class, Collect recipes and keep a recipe book, Host celebrations at your home, Remember your ancestors and learn more about them, Spend time with your pets, Take care of yourself and your mental and physical health (Your body is a home for you), Take a hot bath, eat some ice cream, chill at home for a day, Pray to Her( ex- for protection, inspiration, happiness, guidance, and help getting rid of negative entities in the home, peace in the home, good food, an abundance of food, independence), help to start/tending to the hearth, work on having strong family bonds, Open your curtains and let the sunlight warm the room, Make a potful of tea and keep it in a large thermos, Watch movies that make you feel nostalgic and cozy, Say goodnight and good morning to her, Get an electric blanket and feel the warmth connect you to her, Cuddle a stuffed animal, Make a blog/journal filled with cozy homely things, Keep a few locally baked goodies nearby for when you need them, String up fairy lights and use them as your only light source, Whisper prayers and devotional pieces before you go to sleep, Use a Himalayan salt lamp to connect to feeling of a fire, Invest in little things (ex- pillowcases, photos, curtains) that make your room feel welcoming and peaceful, Make a little bottle filled with herbs and crystals and other things that remind you of her, Listen to music that makes your soul happy and your heart content, Take care of yourself (ex- Brush your hair, use a wet cloth on your face), Keep a tealight on you, Clean one small area of your house, Savor a hot drink, Do small, unnoticed acts of kindness, Always greet animals (both big and small), Do anything by candlelight, Wear colors you associate with her, Practice your patience (both external and internal), Be a listening ear or shoulder to cry on for those who need it, Make compromises when it is healthiest for both parties, always have a lighter or matches, Listen to music that reminds you of her, Spend time tending to your body, Leave a big tip the next time you have a chance, Practice kindness in all areas of your life (including driving), Take a hot bath or shower with no time limit, Decorate a space, Build a fire, Compliment people (both strangers and loloved ones), Donate something (ex-clothes, money, or your time), Look at photos and embrace the happy nostalgia, Wear makeup or jewelry that reminds you of her, Wake up early to see the sunrise - or watch the sunset, Watch/read about acts of kindness to be inspired, wear prayer beads that are for her, go to a high school reunion, do a family reunion, do budgeting in her honor, do meal planning, set healthy boundaries, have a household notebook, do seasonal cleaning, try home remedies,As you light your gas stove, say a prayer to Hestia, Spend quiet quality time at home, Gather your family (including your chosen family) for a festive candlelit meal, Commit to spending more time with children and old people.
Ephithets•Äídios - eternal, Aïdius – See Äídios., Basileia - See Vasíleia, Bulaea - See Voulaia., Chloömorphus – See Khlöómorphos, Daughter of lovely-haired Rǽa, Khlöómorphos - verdan, Polýmorphos - multi-formed, Polyolbus – See Polýolvos, Polýolvos - rich in blessings, Potheinotáti - beloved, Prutaneia – See Prytaneia, Prytanei, Vasíleia - queen, Voulaia - of the council, Prytaneia -”of the Prytanis.”
Equivalents• Vesta (Roman), loki (Norse), Brigid (Celtic), Hathor (Egyptian)
Signs they are reaching out• having a strong urge to Vail in her honor, seeing her animals and symbols in your dreams, and seeing her imagery a lot, everything at home suddenly going well.
Vows/omans• that she “would be a maiden all her days”
Morals• morally light/pure
Courting• None
Past lovers/crushes• None
Personality• She avoids drama, and is generous, but her temper is volcanic in nature, she is slow to anger, but when she gets angry her rage is a force of nature. She is modest, tranquil, and industrious
Home• Mount Olympus
Mortal or immortal • immortal
Fact• Historically she is supposed to be the first deity offered to in a ritual due to being the goddess of fire, she's the oldest Olympian, She is spat out last by Kronos so she is also the youngest, she shares her seat with Diyonisus, she did not give it up, she receives a share of every sacrifice/prayer to the gods, and she is commonly seen alongside with Hermes, I would recommend putting their alters close together.
Element• fire
Curses• a bad family life, food being burnt, having not enough food, being turned away at restaurants, being homeless, your house catching on fire
Blessings• all domestic happiness and blessings
Roots• Greek mythology….and she was raised in her father's stomach, and at the first years of theogony era.
Friends• all of the gods, but most notably Hermes, but is not friends with Priapus, she dislikes him (he tried to rape her.)
Parentage• Cronus and Rhea
Siblings• Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, Demeter, Hera
Pet• she has no pets.
Children • she has no children.
Appearance in astral or gen• she was typically represented wearing a veil and robe. In some images, she held a flowering branch or kettle as well.
Festivals • None, at every feast and meal a liberation was made to her name first and last, but I associate Thanksgiving with her, but her Roman counter part Vesta has 1-15 June of each year, an then another festival celebrated on 8-9 July. Hestia is also mentioned on 8 June. But a neo-pagan sets aside 26 December – 22 January as a month devoted to Hestia.
Status• Virgin theoi goddess.
What disrespects her turning away people at your home (she is a goddess of hospitality and it was seen as disrespectful to her to do so.)
Planet• unknown
Her Tarot cards• the Temperance, the fourteenth Major Arcana card.
Remind me of• Hot cocoa, and Thanksgiving.
Scents/Inscene • Lavender, Rose, spring water, rain, Pumpkin, Apple pie, cinnamon, fall leaves, Chamomile, Myrrh, Frankincense, Iris, Angelica, Peony, Angelica, iris, Sandalwood
My opinion • I like her, but I'm scared of her too. (what a shocker!)
Prayers•
Historical-
Holy Queen of Sanctity, we hymn you, Hestia, whose abiding realm is Olympus and the middle point of earth and the Delphic laurel tree! You dance around Apollo’s towering temple rejoicing both in the tripod’s mantic voices and when Apollo sounds the seven strings of his golden phorminx and, with you, sings the praises of the feasting gods. We salute you, daughter of Kronos and Rhea, who alone brings firelight to the sacred altars of the gods; Hestia, reward our prayer, grant wealth obtained in honesty; then we shall always, dance around your glistening throne.
For the lost -
Blessed Hestia, the first and the last, and the always flame. May your light burn bright and strong, May your prayers be those of respect and love, May you guide the lost, And give to those who have nothing. I give thanks to you, Hestia, for all that you have done And continue to do.
For people with intrusive thoughts -
I ask Hestia, the kind goddess, to help those who feel down. May they find comfort and peace inside of their homes and inside their own minds. Protect them for their destructive thoughts, and be the safe place they need so much
A prayer for homeles—
In Hestia’s name, may you always have a home and a roof over your head. May you always be comfortable and warm with a full belly. May you always be in good spirits and good company, never knowing the pervading loneliness that envelopes the soul.
Morning
Blessed Hestia, Fill this home with your light and bounty, As the day fills it with golden sunshine.
Evening
Glorious Hestia, Let your hearth fire warm this house, As night draws her shadowed cloak over it now.
Blessings of the kitchen-
Hestia bless my little kitchen, I love it’s every nook And bless me as I do my work, Wash pots and pans and cook. May the meals that I prepare, Be seasoned from above, With thy blessings and thy grace, But most of all thy love
Links/websites/sources •
ts-witchy-archive, constantly-disheveled, saryoak, eldritchhorror06, https://twelfthremedy.tumblr.com/post/625205765818515456/hestia-offerings/amp, https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/179727039352/offerings-to-hestiahttps://twelfthremedy.tumblr.com/post/625205765818515456/hestia-offerings/amphttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/179727039352/offerings-to-hestiahttps://www.learnreligions.com/hestia-greek-goddess-of-the-hearth-2561993#:~:text=Keep%20a%20candle%20dedicated%20to,prayers%2C%20songs%2C%20or%20hymns.https://www.theoi.com/Ouranios/Hestia.html#:~:text=In%20myth%20Hestia%20was%20the,youngest%20of%20the%20six%20Kronides.https://www.theoi.com/Ouranios/Hestia.htmlhttps://greekmythology.fandom.com/wiki/Hestia#google_vignettehttps://greekmythology.fandom.com/wiki/Hestiahttps://greekgodsandgoddesses.net/goddesses/hestia/https://www.hellenicgods.org/festivals-of-hellenismos---eortai https://hestiasservant.wordpress.com/2018/05/27/honoring-hestia-a-festival-every-day/https://www.elissos.com/the-family-goddess-hestia-mother-of-all-gods/#:~:text=The%20birth%20of%20Hestia%20dates,to%20his%20throne%2C%20his%20children.https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhea_(mythology)#:~:text=According%20to%20Hesiod%2C%20Rhea%20had,and%20Zeus%20in%20that%20order.https://www.reddit.com/r/pagan/comments/14sy8cj/is_hestia_reaching_out_to_me/https://mythopedia.com/topics/hestia
http://persephoneandhecate.blogspot.com/2011/06/exploring-archetypes-hestia.html?m=1https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/170063420188/bedridden-devotion-to-hestiahttps://honeyandhestia.tumblr.com/post/170063420188/bedridden-devotion-to-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/heatherwitch/160613514230/hestiavesta https://constantly-disheveled.tumblr.com/post/156636591525/can-a-hearth-fire-just-be-a-candle-that-you-lighthttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/169551188078/devotional-activities-for-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/167758105763/jar-to-help-me-connect-to-hestia-chamomilehttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/171225676313/burn-herbs-and-spices-as-an-offering-to-hestia-i https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/183383795283/what-kind-of-crystals-would-yall-associate-with https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/171208375440/a-historical-prayer-to-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/169394109439/i-ask-hestia-the-kind-goddess-to-help-those-who https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/166938581678/if-youre-still-doing-prayer-requests-may-you-be https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/178225408393/lady-hestia-goddess-of-comfort-and-warmth-to https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/183772520921/a-little-kitchen-prayer-for-hestia https://www.hellenicgods.org/festivals-of-hellenismos---eortai
#the gods#hellenic devotion#hellenic polytheism#hellenic worship#doing the research for you#greek gods#greek mythology#ancient greek#hestia#hestia worship#hestia deity#hestia devotee#hestia goddess#greek goddess#hearthealth#hearth and home#fireplace#hellenic paganism#hellenic#hellenic polytheist#hellenic polythiest#home witchcraft#hearth witch
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Fuck JKR: How To Create A Harry Potter-Esque Aesthetic Without Any Harry Potter In It
So I saw a few posts from people mentioning that a reason people might be into Harry Potter is because of the aesthetic or atmosphere, and ya know what? I can't even argue that, because if there's one thing about HP, it's that it Sure Does Have Aesthetic And Atmosphere.
So! I'm gonna tell you how to STEAL ITS LOOK! Because:
JK Rowling considers ANY support of her work to be support of her politics.
Fan content/fan merch is still free advertisement for Rowling's work. YOU might not choose to give her money, but you can't be sure you won't pull people into the fandom who will.
Everyone should create more things that aren't tied to corporate-owned IP, period.
So. Most things in these films have an aged, antique look. You'll see a lot of brown hues, both on sets and on people's clothes. There's a lot of near-blacks (especially charcoals and walnuts) and lighter grays on the sets, especially from the third film onwards. (Wood is more often than not stained dark, while lighter hues are often provided by bricks or plaster.) The last two films use a lot of stormy blues and grays. Prisoner of Azkaban also emphasizes contrast between tones, which heightens a sense of texture. True black also appears throughout the films, such as on students' uniforms and many Death Eaters' outfits, and on the chairs in Malfoy Manor. White appears occasionally, especially on Hedwig, students' shirts, or during winter scenes, but pure white isn't otherwise really common. Paper or parchment is usually warm beige. There's also a lot of silver, gold, and brass, often appearing on things like dishware, tools, trinkets, Christmas baubles, and so forth. Bronze also comes up occasionally.
Reds, yellows, blues, and greens are pretty common throughout the films, even outside of Hogwarts, though you'll see just about every color somewhere. For example, orange is often found around the Weasleys, and orange, maroon, and purple feature in the divination classroom. Teal features prominently in Grimmauld Place (contrasted with saffron yellows).
Most colors aren't really super bright; a lot of the time they look a little faded, or like they're colored with natural dyes. If you use medieval illustrations to source your colors, or aim for earth tones and jewel tones, you'll be about right for a lot of what you see in the films. Bright colors are pretty rare; some of the brights we do see are in Honeydukes, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, and certain magical effects, such as Floo fire.
A lot of light is provided by candles, torches, or fireplaces, which cast a warm yellow/orange light. Moonlight is represented by blue light in the first and second films. Blue light is also used for the Goblet of Fire and the penseive.
Another thing you gotta have in there is clutter. It should look kinda antique and give off a kind of magical or mystical atmosphere. Think books, storage jars, orreries, crystal balls, old lamps, antique clocks, vintage glassware, antique mirrors, old teapots, and little metal trinkets. (If you're trying to decorate a physical room, your stuff doesn't have to actually be antique, of course; antique-styled is fine.)
Texture is also very important, which can be represented with full or top grain leather book covers, stone walls, dents and scratches, cracks, embellishments, and embossing. Additionally, all damage and wear gives a sense of oldness to things. Stains and variegated colors also add interest. (If you're decorating a physical space, you might look into aging/distressing/antiquing techniques.)
If you want a space to look cozy, you don't really want bare or blank walls. Shelves, paintings, tapestries, and wallpaper can all help with that. Again, use brown, rather than black. Warm, yellow lighting will also help. If you lean toward blacks and cool lighting, you're going to have a colder-looking space.
Fashion in the wizarding world is extremely all over the place, ranging from stereotypical fantasy witch and wizard clothing, to pretty normal vintage clothing, to some wacky vintage-inspired looks, to the kind of fashion that would be put under the cozycore umbrella, to ordinary modern clothing. One thing that's absent is subculture fashion as we know it. (Bellatrix Lestrange does look kinda goth, but it's less a subculture thing, and more a "yeah we're putting our bad guys in fancy black stuff" thing.)
If you're trying to lean into the whole quirky/eccentric/old-fashioned kinda thing, you'll want to pass over the more modern and obviously synthetic type stuff. Also, patterns, textured fabrics, knits, mixed colors, lace, and other embellishments can add interest to outfits.
Architecture is also all over the place. Hogwarts is pretty medieval, while places like Diagon Alley give more Victorian vibe. The main thing is looking old fashioned and quaint.
To try and summarize all of that:
Browns. Lots and lots and lots of browns. Blacks and grays, too.
Contrast between light and dark browns and blacks/grays.
More beige and gray than pure white; more charcoal gray and dark walnut brown than true black.
Among other colors, mostly earth tones and jewel tones. Very limited brights.
Polished metal and glass also add shininess.
Old-fashioned. Vintage. Antique.
Clutter, texture, patterns, variegation. Minimalist/clean aesthetic avoided.
Aged and distressed.
Lighting often yellow/orange due to coming from fire. Blue/teal light often coming from moonlight and certain magical light sources.
Now, here are some things we actually don't see. I'm not mentioning them to discourage you from using them if they're what you really want, but to inform you about them so you can consider whether they might throw off the vibe for you:
Green/purple/black combos.
Purple/silver/black combos.
Pink/purple/teal combos.
Pink/black combos.
Orange/black combos.
Green/orange/purple combos.
Red/black combos.
Basically a lot of combos commonly associated with Halloween, witches, or vampires.
Big raw crystals. We see crystal balls now and then, but that's it.
Other natural items used as decorations - feathers, pinecones, sticks, etc. The one exception I can think of are the shells embedded in the walls of Shell Cottage.
Crushed velvet. Lots of fantasy uses this, HP films don't.
If you need inspiration, go look up medieval and renaissance diagrams and illustrations of stuff like the four elements, the zodiac, the solar system, and all that. Go look up alchemical symbols and emblems. Search up pre-WWII vintage ephemera. Go look up Victorian clipart. Look up stuff like botanical, zoological, and astronomical books and art from the 17th-19th centuries. Look up vintage wallpaper and fabric patterns. Look at vintage-style crafts. Research period architecture and fashion. Research European heraldry.
If you're wondering what exactly you're going to design around without Hogwarts and the Four Houses, here are some suggestions:
The four classical elements (earth, air, fire, and water)
The four seasons
Card suits - Tarot, French, whatever you want
Holidays - Halloween, Christmas, whatever
Fairy tales
Flowers
Mythical creatures
Bugs
Birds
Any other animals you like
Ecosystems
Your own original worldbuilding
So yeah, there ya go. You don't need to keep participating in HP to indulge in the aesthetic.
[NOTICE: Anybody who clowns on this post by making this about them and their childhood, patting themselves on the back about their chosen means of "ethical" participation, praising the fandom, or adding any other form of irrelevant bullshit is getting blocked. Also, I don't want to hear about PJO or Earthsea again for the millionth time, either.]
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A Dream’s Winding Way
Part II — The Weaver and the Loom
Pairing: Arthur Morgan (high honor) x Female Reader
Summary: For as long as you could remember, you dreamt of falling in a love so whole and pure it was worth enduring the many griefs in your life. But the world, cold and cruel as it was, robbed that dream from you, and you believed you would forever be broken until you met a man who was scarred in his own way.
Word Count: 10.8k
Warnings: sexual assault trauma responses, murder, canon-typical violence.
A/N: Arthur will make his appearance at the end here ♥ thank you THANK YOU @the-halo-of-my-memory for beta-ing 💞
Part I | ao3 link
~ II — The Weaver and the Loom ~
Snick.
The bolts inside the cabinet lock slid free. Between your finger and your thumb, the tarnished key in your grasp opened a long-latched door, a swoosh releasing dormant air. Inside the stale cell, relics of the past awaited, felty with dust. A chatelaine belt rested on the shelf, ornate with filigree, alongside a satin pouch, a crystal hat pin, silver spurs with brass rowels, and a wedding bouquet, its once-white roses shriveled and decaying. You paused once, running your fingers over the cool rivets of a sapphire brooch, and overlooked it all, instead retrieving a new vase for the kitchen table—one that would not shatter into pieces when it fell—and a tattered recipe book.
With the book settled in your lap you opened it with a crack. Antique, creamy pages inked with words fluttered past your fingers, food stains mottling the margins alongside cursive pencil scrawls. A flattened sprig of poppy bookmarked the page for an oatmeal pie recipe. You tucked it back in for time to keep safe. A few gentle turns later you found what you were looking for and rose from the floor of your grandmother’s room, relocking the cabinet, and shutting the door behind you. You donned an apron and began your work.
The rugs, the curtains, all were taken down and rolled up, flapped outside, and beaten with the handle of your broom. You swept the floors of broken vase shards and stray leaves, replenished the oil in the lamps, trimmed the candle wicks, tossed out last night’s dinner, laid a new tablecloth, filled the silver ewer from your grandmother’s cabinet with water and fresh flowers, and scraped the ashes out from the fireplace. Wood clopped as you piled it up in a canvas carrier outside and lugged it in. Soap suds splashed your wrists as you scrubbed the dishes spotless. All the while the clock ticked on, from hour to hour, the day waning, until you could no longer prolong the inevitable, and commenced your grisly task.
You propped your family recipe book open on the counter and fetched a large stew pot from the wall rack. The cutting board hosted the full spectrum of ingredients you needed, so you set the pot over the stove flame and warmed a dollop of butter and olive oil. The yellow onions you chopped sizzled as you added them in, and, using a knife, you deployed your special ingredient from the cutting board. A few dashes of salt and pepper joined the mixture next, and once the onions popped their flavor, caramelizing, teaspoons of dried sage and thyme hand-picked from your garden snowed from your hand with clumps of chopped garlic.
Stirring, mixing, curdling, after a few minutes a pour of red wine and a splash of vinegar came next, making the soup bubble fragrantly. You scraped the copper bottom with a wooden spoon, stirring the browning bits of onion and garlic around, and drowned it all in three cans of beef broth from the general store. Two bay leaves fluttered in last before you covered the pot with a lid to let it simmer.
The Sheriff would have a fine last meal.
When the first three stars appeared in the evening sky, your cottage was aglow with soft light and welcoming with the scent of a rich dinner. Fine dishes and silverware sparkled on your table with a basket of bread in the center beside a lit candelabra. A fire warmed the hearth, and the alluring shimmer of dusk slipped in through the clean curtains. All was set. You sat in your armchair and waited, staring at the flames.
Hoof beats. Sweat chilled your palms as the sound drew nearer and you stood to peer out the window. The dot of a lantern bloomed in the distance. You tucked your shirt into your belt and clutched your shawl tighter, holding your heart to tame its wild beating, fingertips bumping the band of your mother’s ring, still hanging around your neck from a chain. The most important thing for you to do was breathe, slow and even, so your blood could thrum throughout your body as it was supposed to and give you strength. It flowed into your heart and you closed your eyes.
“Ease up,” a voice called. His voice.
A horse nickered, blowing out its nostrils. Leather creaked as he dismounted from his saddle and the bit tinkled as he hitched the reins, whistling. You could imagine it all, him fixing and grooming himself as he walked up, expecting a girl who would be so happy to see him and enamored with him that she made her home all nice to welcome him after a noble day of hunting outlaws.
The jingle of his spur was as foreboding as a snake’s rattle as it marched up the flagstone path. You positioned yourself in front of the stove, bending over the pot with a spoon and stirring the flavorful broth, a smile schooled on your face.
“Honey pie, you home? It’s me.”
The picture of a perfect wife, you thought, standing in your inviting home in a cooking apron. He would only see what he wanted, blind to you being capable of anything else.
“Door’s open!” You chimed, and the doorknob turned.
Some change at once went through the room. In a heavy, dominant rush it all came back, like the strong winds the night before that rattled the window panes and made the trees plunge and bow. You spent all day distracting yourself from the flashbacks of his lurid words, the fondlings, and the sound of his labored breaths. Anguish seized your throat at the footfalls entering your home once again and the pillar of strength you constructed within, had leaned upon, began to crumble.
You had a hangnail on your thumb. You discovered this while squeezing your fist tight, tethering yourself to the present. It was a welcome, soft twinge of pain for you to focus on and you picked at it, fixing your eyes on the window. The candle before it illuminated the glass, and you watched the sapphire heart of the flame waver, heard the little hiss of it, and glanced beyond. A sky wistful with waning blue, a sunset throwing gold on all that was green, a hush of wind passing through the leaves, and your reflection blending in between. To take it all in brought you forward in time, to a crackling fire and a bubbling soup, and a purpose hanging over your heart.
It is not happening again, you reflected. And it will never happen again.
You were safe, you reminded yourself, safe in the present, grounded, and irrevocably turned to face the man who hurt you in a way no one ever had. You looked at him without seeing him, a dish towel in hand.
“Come on in, I have some dinner on the stove. It'll be ready in a jiff if you want to hang up your things.”
“I would be delighted,” was his reply.
He took off his Stetson, hung it on the hook. The sound of his coat being tugged down his arms and his gun belt unbuckling made your heart beat fast and your fingers curl into your palms again. Shaking, you gripped the edge of the counter. Steam from the bubbling pot kissed your cheeks.
A chair scraped across the floor. “It smells delicious, sweetness. I’m downright famished.”
You breathed in and out slowly. He folded his leather gloves beside his table settings and you prepared a dish for him. With a gulp and a clench of resolution, you dipped the ladle deep and unearthed the chunks of vegetables, pouring them artfully into a bowl, spoonful after spoonful.
“Any luck tracking down that gang?”
He sighed, deep and tired. His elbows knocked on the table as he reached for the loaded bread basket.
“They slipped through our fingers last night, but we almost had ‘em.” Pulling the loaf apart, he ripped a piece and tucked it into his mouth.
You rounded the table and laid the baleful meal on his place setting, in a daze as he happily snatched up his spoon.
“Oh my,” he marveled. The polished silver of the utensil disappeared in the broth and came back up replete with the softened wild bulbs.
“These onions are quaint,” he commented.
The lie came to your tongue easily. “They’re called pearl onions. I have them growing in the back.”
And with a pleased grin, he feasted. You sat across from him with your own bowl, your spoon a special porous one so you could pretend to eat alongside him. He dipped his bread in the soup and drained his glass greedily, refilling it himself from the pitcher you set on the table earlier. Before long he scraped the bottom of the bowl and you replenished it.
You tried not to pay attention to his sordid aspect. The way he sniffed loudly and chewed openly, the dirtiness of his face from riding, the grease slicking his unwashed hair and the matted tips of his mustache, his eyebrows also unkempt and overgrown. You fixed your eyes to the grain of the wood instead, ate your bread with a slice of cheese and a handful of walnuts, munched on the salad of spring greens you prepared, all the while waiting for time to take its natural course as the toxins of the ostensible pearl onions invaded his system.
“You’ve been quiet,” he observed. His hunger appeared to sate as he scraped up the last dregs of his supper, affording his utmost attention back to his hostess. “Why won’t you look at me?”
You lifted your chin from your palm. Something in his expression shifted with awareness.
“Is this about last night?” he went on. When you remained simmering in your silence, he deflated. “Listen, I–I didn’t mean to get so rough with ya. I was drunk, and I’m sorry.”
Your insides twisted and flamed, refusing to be quelled. You shot up, turning your back to him and crossing your arms as you faced the window.
“You’re sorry?” you seethed. A drum pounded in your ears; it was the mad pulse of your heart. Tall in your judicial resolve, you whirled and directed your fury towards him in its full magnitude. “Not a bone in your body is capable of being sorry,” your voice shook, low in its tenor. “You saw an opportunity to take advantage of me and seized it. The way you spoke to me—degraded me—it’s impossible for me to believe you didn’t enjoy every moment of your vulgarity.” Split flew as you scoffed at him. “Regret is not within you. Not when I see now that you planned it. All along.”
He broke into a laugh of disbelief and leaned back to survey you. The worst kind of smile distorted his face, as if your fit of temper delighted him.
“Yer actin’ like you didn’t want it. Like your cunny wasn’t drippin’ wet for me–” you lunged forward, vision red and nostrils flaring, ready to seize his neck in your hands and crush his windpipe like the frail stalk of a vegetable, but stopped, grasping the back of your chair instead. You despised the idea of having to touch him and were reminded that you would not have to get your hands dirty to kill him. But you were prepared to. How much longer could you stand his gloating and his shameless iniquity? The wood of the chair’s cross rail creaked beneath your unforgiving knuckles. The Sheriff smirked at your little display.
“I think you’re just ashamed and don’t know how to admit that you liked it,” he argued, pointing his finger at you; then he shook his head. “What nerve you have, bein’ a little cocktease with me. But I didn’t treat you like those whores in town, no, I went out of my way to…to enamor you, bringin’ you flowers while you greeted me in your garden in your lace and your pretty smiles, a pie coolin’ on your windowsill. You know my dear Carolynn never blessed me with a child, and here you were,” he gestured to your frame and the home around you. “Takin’ on the responsibilities of housekeepin’ all by yer lonesome. All you needed was a man to take care of you, and I could be that man. Honey, I want to marry you. I could make you happy! Can’t you picture it?”
Flushed from his diatribe, he pleaded with you, half-rising from his seat until you thrust out a hand in warning. Surprisingly, he heeded your tacit command. Disgust curled your lips into a sneer.
“Marry you?” you echoed, hollow with disbelief. Your vision blurred and you blinked against the mounting tide of revelation washing over you. His mindset, his reasoning, it was unfathomable, and you struggled to piece together a sentence. “This whole time…that was your object? And you thought that by—by trapping me, and giving me no other choice, that I would accept you?”
His eyes rolled heavenward and frustration flashed across his oily face. “Lord knows I’ve been patient,” he gnashed his teeth, voice raising a note higher. “I didn’t want any other man to have you. What, you think you’re meant for one of those half-witted grangers in town? They don’t know the first thing about women, let alone how to keep one as pretty, smart, and pure as you. You know it’s downright sinful to keep such gifts to yourself.”
His words were worse than his touch. You had not one to describe your own sensations; the shock of his inflicted on you completely suspended your power to think and feel.
“Sinful…” you wandered over his meaning. “You’re a hypocrite.” Releasing the chair, you stepped away a few paces and shook your head, huffing to contain your brimming despisal for this man. You refused to listen to him any more. All throughout the day strands of thought had weaved through your head, firmly knotting into what the shame made you believe about yourself. That you were ruined. That you were worth less. He must have thought he was paying you some kind of compliment, saying what he said. The refutation rose in you to a forbidding height, like the dust before a whirlwind, and your lips parted to release your final judgment of him.
“You don’t know the first thing about me: about what I want, or what I need. What you did was assume. You assumed I wanted someone to come around and sweep me off my feet, save me from my solitude, and you assumed that I wanted you. A gluttonous, arrogant, entitled pig who can’t take responsibility for his own actions, who would rather blame them on the beast at the bottom of the glass,” you spat with venom. Emotion began to wrack your voice, lifting and dropping it like the swell of a wave, but you plowed forward, pinning him to his seat with the fearsome gleam in your tear-stricken eyes.
“The worst part about it is you could’ve made your intentions clear! I could’ve been spared from all this pain if you had only the stones to be straightforward. But I guess the prospect of your hurt pride was too much to endure. Deep down, you knew the only way you could have me was unwillingly.”
Your hand clutched at your breast, wrinkling your shirt and tangling in your necklace chain. You let go and charged forward again, and this time, the chair rail snapped in your hands at your final word.
“You had no right. You’re the most pathetic excuse of a man I’ve ever seen, and I’ll be glad to see you drop dead.”
At the crack of wood he sneered. No longer tolerating this speech, he stood, and for a fleeting moment you shrunk back. Until his hand—his fat, pallid hand, still bearing a wedding band—braced itself on the tabletop and he wobbled on his feet. Blood rushed to his face and a delta formed in his forehead as he blinked at the ground, as if his vision was filled with spots while his legs drooped unsteadily beneath him. He clenched his gut and groaned.
A griefless laugh croaked from you. “You know, they say that wishes and dreams have a winding way of coming true. It looks like you are gonna spend the rest of your life with me, Sheriff.”
His sight fixed itself on the bowl in your place setting, at the spoon resting in it, and how none of your portion was consumed. He had the look of a man who realized something too late. The vein in his neck fluttered and his breaths sawed in and out of his lungs. Sweat dotted his temples and a thread of saliva spilled from his wobbling lip.
“Wh–what did you d-do?” He choked out.
The compass of your soul spun and whirred, before the ruby-tipped point settled decidedly south.
“What I had to.”
As his knees gave out beneath him, the Sheriff clutched the table’s edge, and the peaceful, law-abiding chapter of your life ended. The scent of bile fouled the air as he retched and retched, his body rejecting every morsel of the Death Camas he had stomached, and the pallor of his skin colored to that of fish’s belly before the monger’s crude knife carves it open. Not a twinge of sympathy or regret rippled inside as he fell helpless to the floor. Not at his struggle for breath, at his uncontrollable muscle spasms, or the chunks of undigested food dangling from his chin. He would lie there, wheezing and convulsing in a mound of his own vomit, until his heart stopped. You had no desire to watch, and you had no desire to wait any longer for your meteoric flight from this tainted place of grief and despair.
You unlatched the trunk in your bedroom and sifted through your belongings. Two saddlebags quickly filled. You packed the essentials: bedding and a camp outfit, medicine and provisions, clothing for severe weather, and valuables to fence. Rummaging through the kitchen, yanking open drawers and cabinets, you moved mechanically, occupying your mind with a plan moving forward, all the while a man lay dying on your floor, twitching and choking, sightless and inert. His breath was a mere rattle as you dressed yourself for travel and long riding, laying your necklace with your mother’s ring inside a sack for safe keeping. This was not the time for thoughts and moral ruminations, it was the time for action.
It would buy you time–and perhaps forego a bounty altogether–if you buried the body. His absence from town would not go unnoticed, but—Oh, yours would not either. Regardless, your next course of action began to formulate itself. You would need a shovel, a rug or a blanket, and a lantern, for the sun had dipped below the horizon and would not light your path.
As the night closed darkly in, the sunset folded its wings over the rib cages of clouds; the last pulse of color on the shore of the world a glowing, molten shade of marmalade. Insects clacked and clicked in the dusk as you stepped out in your hunting jacket, hoisting your supplies over your shoulder on the dirt path to the stable with a lantern swinging in your free hand. White moths flittered around the light and followed in your grim, resolved wake.
You hung the lamp on a hook behind the creaking door, illuminating the hay-strewn space. Bridles, bits, and martingales populated the wall inside the stable, with rakes and shovels propped up from the ground. An empty wheelbarrow served as a temporary home for your provisions, setting them inside so you could perch yourself on a stool in the corner to strap on your spurs.
Willa shifted on her hooves to adjust to the weight of the various sacks and pouches you affixed to her saddle, but she complied with a trusting snort. You spoke to her kindly, stroking her forehead, knowing that she was listening in her own way and understood her importance to you. Without her, you would be alone. Without her your future, your freedom, it would all be infeasible. You led Willa out into the night, a shovel tucked under your arm and your lantern restored in hand.
An owl hooted and a pack of coyotes yipped and yowled, the sound carrying throughout the valley. Willa’s keen ears flicked, along with her long tail, and you gestured for her to wait behind the cottage, hitching her to an oak sapling. You intended to trudge through the muck of the funereal situation as quickly as possible while the night breeze slipped cool fingers through the forest and snuffed out the last tendrils of daylight. You marched back into the firelit house for the last time.
The stench hit you first. Foul and nose-wrinkling, you tugged your collar up against the smell and regarded the log of the Sheriff’s body, lying rigid. In death, he soiled his pants, as all men do. The body releases everything and the muscles stiffen and lock, blood stagnates in the veins, the skin purples, the tongue lolls out, and the eyes fix wide open to meet the unknown. Nature takes its course. Flies are drawn by some promising whiff of a feast in the air and consume the dead flesh in a quivering swarm of greed. Time passes. Maggots crawl. And bones will be all that remain, until, some day, they are dust for the wind to claim.
He was the one you rushed to when you found your grandmother cold in her bed. He was the one who arranged for the church to collect and prepare her body for burial beside your parents in the local graveyard. He was one of the persons who offered you words of comfort during the funeral.
He was the man who hurt you most in the world.
And he was no more.
It was a yawning, black moment, the one in which you stood, hesitating on some windy pinnacle, reflecting on not what will be, but what, long since, has been. Your throat choked around nothing. What has become of you? The future stretched out before you gray, interminable, and desolate. Thoughts crowded thick and fast in your mind, and you imagined carrying out the rest of this act—covering his body, dragging it across the floorboards, the weight of it, the slack look on his face, the creases of his fat fingers outstretched from his limp hand, and you knelt to the floor with a gathering horror of your deed, a tremor pulsing in your throat, your heart crumbling to the same ash dropping in the dim fireplace.
A numbness possessed you to pull up the corners of the rug, to nudge his body to the center of it with your foot, to wrap the carpet around his form and tuck him inside. To do what needed to be done. Your mind turned off. It had to, for it was the only way to endure. There was no choice left for you. But you wished you had listened. To the night, to the change in the wind, for the footsteps of fate and the creeping shadow of the terrible god of chance stepping into your doorway, eclipsing your hope of escape from this dire strait. A darkness was gathering in the hush; the kind something crouches within.
Fate is a weaver, poised at a loom; the spider over your garden gate. It works silently and unseen, amidst an intricate and silvery web, attaching invisible strands of possibility along a path leading to an inescapable epicenter. Fate, with its nimble clutches, spins and entwines, pulls one thread, wends the other, until the time comes when the unwary traveler reaches a pivot point, the moment when their life goes down one path or another, and the spider strikes the grappling victim caught in its web.
Back first, you dragged the carpet bearing the Sheriff’s body outside your door. His boots stuck out from the roll, thumping along the ground as you grunted with the effort of transporting him, using the strength behind your legs to shuffle farther along. The light from inside spilled out along the flagstone path, and as you stopped to establish a stronger, more efficient grip, your ears pricked at a pair of unfamiliar spurs clicking and scuffing to a halt behind you.
A pin-drop silence encased the air.
Your heart froze. Ice enveloped your ribcage and crystallized the blood inside their elaborate vessels, each breath serrating through your chest like a razor. For a time, only the stars moved with their twinkling. Slowly from the ground, inch by inch, you turned your head and your sight rose to the face of the intruder, the sole witness to your grisly act, and you almost laughed at how twisted fate could be.
A faltering deputy was fixed in place on the path, taking in the undeniable scene before him. He was no stranger. You recognized him in that slant of dandelion light by the curled tip of his nose, his ruddy cheeks, and the cleft in the middle of his chin. His beard was strong, a shade darker than his hair and not so red as his skin, and he had grown into his jaw, the line of which had become more pronounced and square. He wore wrinkled pants tucked into worn, dusty boots, with his lanky frame swallowed by a long duster, a vest beneath it buttoned all the way, and a gun belt sagging around his hips. Ungloved hands hung at his sides, fingers that long ago squeezed the curves of your budding body dangling emptily.
Though he scarcely looked it, he was the boy from the orchard with russet hair and dimples all those years ago, whose mother treated you like her own; but he had grown since that uncomplicated beginning. How a broken collarbone led to a friendship, which ripened into an affection and concluded in bitter resentment, was unforeseeable at the time. You never guessed that the two of you would end up like this.
“Gideon,” you breathed. “What are you doing here?”
The hungry, sweeping motion of his mouth against yours invaded your mind. In the blink of a moment like this, despite the current of the years that swept past and weathered away the discomforting, stony edges of the memory, you could relive the minutest details of your past with him: the sloppy tangle of tongue and teeth and the scratch of an adolescent mustache; the mopey, beseeching expression on his face, begging for more of you. A chill crept across your skin at the remembrance of his neediness and desperation, making it hard to look at him, shame rooted so deeply in you.
He uttered your name in the same stunned tone, his mouth agape until he swallowed his alarm. “It’s been a long time,” he said, and his eyes, murky, silver, and cold—like a pond in winter—cut to the sagging roll of carpet in your arms. An unmistakable pair of boots stuck out. “And I see much has changed.”
None of your muscles moved—but the weight of the deceased tired your arms and you ached to rest them. You slowly lowered the rug to the ground, your eyes never leaving one another’s.
“This isn’t what you think it is.”
A disbelieving scoff left him. “What I think it is,” he echoed. “I’m thinking that better not be who I think it is. I’m thinking ‘she went from breaking men’s hearts to stopping them altogether’,” his long legs carried him forward and your spine stiffened. His face came into the light. You shrank back. “Something tells me you don’t have one of Dutch Van der Linde’s boys wrapped up in there. See, I knew the Sheriff would be here tonight, and that’s his horse hitched there,” he jerked his thumb in the direction of the animal. “You have five seconds to produce the man I’m looking for alive and well or I’m taking you in.”
You wished to heaven you could think of a way out of this. What vestige of freedom you could still secure was within your grasp and it made your teeth grit that the bitter waters of life would surge high once again at this crucial hour. It figured; the final wave for you to overcome came in the form of Gideon Taylor, the pouty boy who you had no remorse for jilting. Your fists clenched beside you and you lifted your head, standing tall, measuring and meeting the danger of his presence.
Holding his stare unblinkingly, you pitched your voice low, words growing frost. “You should leave.”
Though he had a gun and lasso on his hip and an inflated sense of superiority to empower him, Gideon hesitated.
“I will, once you tell me where the Sheriff is.”
His spurs jangled. He spoke to you cautiously, as if you were a skittish animal about to bolt for an impenetrable thicket, the flit of his eyes gauging your every move, and his hand rose out to you while he subtly reached beside him.
Before you a narrow avenue of escape flickered, shrinking smaller and smaller like the last sliver of the moon in the dark of an eclipse.
When lightning flashes, the precise amount of moments that pass between the initial burst of light and the thunder that follows measures the distance between the strike and the listener. A blink, a heartbeat, a slow breath. That was how much time you had to act, before the thunder came and the earth trembled. In that slow, blinking, beating instant, you knew how this would play out.
When his gun began to clear leather your instincts kicked in, quick as a snap. You leapt backwards into the house, throwing the door shut. Fumbling with the bolt, the rusty metal bar slogged its way through the lock, making you cry out in frustration as you strained to jiggle it forward. The bolt slid home the instant Gideon’s shoulder rammed against the boards.
Your teeth rattled at the battering of the frame. He charged against it repeatedly and your eyes, in darting about the room, snagged on a buffet table. Praying the old lock would hold, you rushed to push it in front of the door and the furniture groaned as you shoved it in place, only for Gideon’s attempts to break in to cease.
“So, we’re doing this the hard way?” Gideon yelled through the door. Your heartbeat thumped in your ears and your face grew hot at the rushing of blood. You moved to extinguish all the lamps and candles, flooding the room in darkness and the lacy scent of candle smoke. His voice came again a moment later.
“Shit, what the hell did you do to him?”
The body. Beyond the threshold. He must have peeled back the rug, looked upon the Sheriff’s vacant eyes and felt his clay-cold cheeks. A leaden weight sunk into the pit of your stomach. There was no escaping what you did. But a small chance remained to evade capture. You could sneak through the back window and mount Willa quietly, get a head start before Gideon gave chase. You could lose him in the woods near Lady Face Falls and follow the water north—
A bullet crashed through the window. You dropped to the floor. Moving forward, you crawled towards the bedroom, covering your head with your hands whenever glass shattered and chunks of wood flew. Along the way your foot slipped through a sludge of the Sheriff’s vomit and your knee banged against the wood. You bit your cheek so as not to cry out in disgust and pain and shuffled slimily onward by the heels of your hands.
Gideon fired off six shots in total before you made it safely to the other room. Quietly, tortuously, you unlatched the window and pulled it up by the handles in increments to prevent any sound while outside Gideon cursed to reload his weapon faster. You winced as it gave a squeak, but the noise was muffled by the breaking of a window in the front room. A heavy stone’s thump followed after.
Gideon called out in the dark. “Are you gonna come willingly or do I have to shoot you? There’s nowhere to go!”
The night air beckoned. Without another thought you swung a leg over the sill and ducked out, making a break for Willa. Behind the cottage, you slid down a slippery bank of pine needles until you reached your moonlit mare, grasping the smooth horn of the saddle and clambering astride to get a move on.
“Ya!” With a kick to her flank, Willa gave a jolt and a toss of her head before starting forward. Moments. You had bought yourself moments to escape, merely. Snatching up the reins, you seated yourself properly and urged Willa through the grove of trees, hunching low to dodge the lash of branches.
She moved with a swift determination beneath you. With hooves heavy upon the earth, she sensed your urgency. Twigs snapped and spears of moonlight shot through the pine canopy as you wove through a wide belt of trees, your breath coming hard and fogging in the air.
The lane of a meadow came into view and you burst through the tree line, into the moon-bright open. Willa vaulted over a fallen log and landed in the muddy grasses, your rear hitting the saddle hard while pellets of ice flecked your cheeks as she scudded over a sheaf of unmelted snow.
“Go, go, go!” Crying out, you nudged her flank again, and Willa obeyed, breathing hard. The prospect of speed and gaining distance from your pursuer outweighed the risk of exposure, riding in the open like this. Her pace transcended into a gallop. You clung tight, blinking against the cold air as it pricked your eyes. The thunder of her feet matched the beat of your heart and the landscape became a blur of stubby trees and boulders smudging past you. In the wind she made Willa’s mane flowed, and you trusted her completely to deliver you from danger.
A gun fired off in the distance. You were forced to let up, arming yourself with your father’s hunting rifle, the stock firm against your shoulder as you peered down the sight and readied your aim. A quarter of a mile off a glint of moving light came from a lantern, and it struck your heart with a pang to do it—to fix your sights on the pulse of it and fire with violent intent. The sound split through the valley. The empty cartridge ejected.
Astride his horse, Gideon shouted as it reared up. Your round pierced the dome of his upheld lantern and sent glass and kerosene raining. In the briefly purchased interval you prompted Willa onwards, back into the ponderosas that environed the open meadow and the darkness their bristling boughs afforded before he and his horse finished screaming.
The farther into the woods you ventured the thicker the trees crept in, until you were forced to a walk. Into the silence of the night you listened, straining for any sound of pursuit. Nothing, only the cold shadows, dim moonlight, and scaly bark of pines passing by your knees. You propped the rifle against your thigh and loaded another brass round into the breech before hopping down from your mount. If the necessity rose again, it would be easier to aim on solid ground rather than swiveling on horseback.
Pine cones and fallen twigs scattered at your step, and you took care to prowl lightly through the snowmelt. You held Willa’s bridle in one hand, her bit jingling, and led her until the murmur of flowing water pricked your ears. Miserable cold began to set in. At every rustle and riffle of leaf and breeze your eyes snapped to each corner of the woodland on high alert. More than anything, you wished for the warmth of your hearth—to be nestled in your favorite chair like any other evening spent in the solitude of your home. Not gripping a loaded gun in a dark forest, heart racing for your life.
But at home, you remembered, lay the body of a dead man. To return to such a place was to hold to your ear a shell from the sea of the past, filling you with the hollow echo of what once was and no longer is. Those chapters from before fluttered away—as the seasons did.
The soil turned mossy and spongy from the lush influence of the river, with trilliums springing up between tree roots and felled, sun-bleached logs. You let Willa walk on ahead, and the music of the water dampened the far-off sounds. Your breath came out slowly as you surveyed the wooded area behind you.
How smart had Gideon grown in the past few years? Could he track you, undetected? Was he stalking you through the woods, with the patience and guile of a hunter? In truth, you had no idea what he was capable of, and it made your fingers twitch towards the trigger. Then again, what were you?
The treetops stirred. A gale whistled down from the mountains, hauntingly cold, and spliced through your jacket, meanwhile the starlight twinkled on. The moonlight turned the river iridescent. Willa drank her fill of water and you settled back into the saddle to trudge downriver. Gideon would lose the tracks you had no time to cover once he reached the stream, but could easily piece together your route. You stowed your rifle and formed a grip over the reins, knuckles over, and moved to fit your boots into the stirrups to give Willa a kick.
You wondered how you could not have heard it: the low, whisking sound of a twirling lasso. By the time it dropped around your shoulders, it was too late. With a violent lurch you were dragged backwards from your horse into the numbing, snow-fed water. Hard and unforgiving rocks bashed into the side of your face as you slammed into the streambed, the taste of coins flooding your mouth as your teeth cut through your lip and tongue. You wrestled with the unyielding hold of the rope amidst the water flowing around you, the shock of which soaked ice in your blood instantly. Black flowers blossomed behind your eyes. A hard yank snagged the air from your lungs and pulled you free from the chaos of the current.
Coughing, spluttering, blinking and gasping, twigs and gravel scraped your palms and before you could brace your hands against the silt someone else’s pinned them together and pushed you on your stomach.
“You’re not gettin’ away now,'' a voice hissed. You remembered those hands on you years before, stronger since, and contempt flamed up in you, compelling the fight in your limbs to kick and scramble beneath Gideon’s hold.
“Quit makin’ this harder for me than it already is!” he snapped. With force, he wrapped the rope around your wrists in a tight bind. All that was left to fight him with was your ankles and you thrashed your knees to shake him off, but the solid weight of him prevailed.
“No,” you groaned, and it took all of your strength to. The rope bound your feet together, and a stupor sludged your limbs from the shock of the cold water. You were flipped onto your back, flinching at a face you were loath to look into. Gideon shook you by the shoulders and your eyes rolled.
“Tell me why! Why did you kill the Sheriff?!”
The river still roared in your ears. Water dripped down your neck, bunched in your lashes. You thought they might turn into icicles, like the great big ones that hung from the cottage roof in the wintertime. Senses dulled and dazed, you could hardly see from the blur of tears and cold, but you caught the echo of his question, and the vial of indignation within you overflowed past the chatter of your teeth and the shivering of your limbs, unable to contain the seething words any longer.
“You have no idea–” a cough interrupted your speech. “What kind of man you are defending.”
Blood from the cut inside your lip spattered onto his face and he only blinked as if it were water. His astonishment was beyond expression. By the moonlight, the dark of his eyes narrowed, and you wormed beneath his glaring sneer.
“He was a great man. Everyone saw the good he did. But you–” he yanked you up from the rocky bed by the elbow, your head lolling. “You were all he talked about. And I tried to warn him about you! You know what he did? He just laughed at me and said I wasn’t man enough to handle you.”
His statement stunned you into silence. Upright, your senses were slow to sharpen with the fog accumulating in your head. The idea of the Sheriff boasting about you to his fellow men sickened you more than the memory of his touch almost. But you had no time to harbor the thought before Gideon dragged you to his mount like a lamb to slaughter.
Within the narrow, binding circle in which your ankles could shuffle you were pushed along, stumbling over pinecones and driftwood. You were too cold and cut up by the rocks to fight him, but you dug in your heels as you approached the tan horse’s flank, the gelding’s tail twitching.
You rolled your shoulder as he shoved you harshly forward by the center of your back and searched for your horse desperately. Willa had taken off during scuffle, trotting down the opposite side of the riverbank. You whistled for her, and her head swung in your direction.
Gideon lost what little patience he had and pulled you up by your underarm. “Do I need to gag you as well?” You braced your arm against his horse’s side to keep your footing. “I think I should, since you’ll be savin’ your confession for the judge.”
“Gideon, stop. Please,” you wheezed. “There was a wrong done to me.” You hoped the pain in your voice would make him pause and see the misery in your eyes, think about the weight behind your words. Maybe he would remember the girl you used to be, and recognize that she was gone, wondering what took the light from her heart. A minnow of doubt darted across his face and his grip nearly faltered, until the breeze blew cold and snuffed any flame of apprehension sparking inside him.
“And you call what you did makin’ it right? Killing a man is against the law,” he elucidated. His spit sprayed across your cheek and you flinched. “But I’ve heard all that I have an ear for. You’re spendin’ the night in a cell.”
Gideon crouched and lifted you from around the legs, hefting you onto your stomach over the horse’s rump. Blood rushed to your head as your weight gravitated to your abdomen and your muscles strained to support it. The steed’s legs shifted underneath you and you lifted your head with a painful effort to speak your mind as he rounded the horse.
“The law doesn’t tell you what’s right and what’s wrong; it only says there’s a price to be paid for certain actions,” you snapped. Disdain pulsed through your veins, your blood humming with contempt.
“Yeah?” Gideon’s feet slotted into the stirrups and he gave a kick, gripping the reins and flicking them to the right. “And you are gonna pay—with your life. What’s that tell you?”
You balled your fists and squirmed, the weave of the rope digging into your wrists. Gideon started forward, roughly, back into the darkened forest. Your chin knocked against the horse’s hide and you held your head up again. “Men like the Sheriff bend the law in their favor whenever it suits them to get what they want and never pay that price. The law doesn’t protect those beneath it.”
“Spoken like a true degenerate.” He tossed you a look over his shoulder and scoffed. “God, if my mother could see you now.” At the memory of Mrs. Taylor and her old warmth towards you, you flamed up again, voice coming out in a growl.
“Oh, you don’t have room in your head for more than one idea!”
“I know better than to listen to this. I know you. A man’s heart is your joy to play with–”
“And it’s your joy to play the victim! Even now you can’t fathom why I despised you. You filled me with shame. Men like you and the Sheriff, all you care about is what I can give you. My heart, my feelings, they don’t matter. In the face of your desires they mean nothing. They don’t so much as cross your mind. The Sheriff took advantage of me and he would do it without a second thought over and over again unless I stopped it!”
“Shame?” Gideon turned back to you. The cold pinked the tips of his ear and nose, his knuckles also red from their place on the bridle. He went quiet for a moment before going on, the scenery passing by vaguely in shadows and shafts of moonlight. Your sternum ached at the pressure accrued from resting on it, and every time your head bounced along with the rhythm of the horse you glimpsed your bound feet on the other side.
He spoke softer this time. “You must not remember how sweet I was on you when we were together. But the way you turned so sour so suddenly, when I could’ve sworn you liked me just as much…it made my head spin more than anythin’. I didn’t know what I did wrong.”
The confession strummed a somber chord within you, twisting your expression grimly. You stepped out of the present, back into the years, while Gideon emerged from the cover of the woods and picked his way onto a pale ribbon of trail that wriggled ahead like a snake. A sign post at the fork heralded the one mile marker to the main road into town, painted white and chipping.
“We were so young. We were children, Gideon. It wasn’t love.”
It struck you that, at the age you spoke of, you did not know how to say no—the word not being something girls were taught. What you knew of women’s’ relationships with men was the expected role they fulfilled: giving. Giving affection, pleasure, children, companionship. In theory the rationale was not so terrible. Love was a dream. To be in love was everything. But your tryst with Gideon acquainted you with a breed of men who were used to taking what women were expected to give. Your kiss, your touch, your embrace and your body, these were all special to you; a gift to be bestowed, the chance to do so reveled. Not things you were expected to surrender to the first boy who looked at you lustfully, unconcerned with your true, inner value. You wished you knew that then.
The train of thought led you, for a glimmer of a second, to believe you could have stopped the worse act inflicted upon you by the hands of the Sheriff. As quick as it came it died. He would have found a way to get what he wanted, regardless of pleas, or strength, or precognition. You were not to blame. Bad people would always exist in the world and take advantage of others, and it was no fault of yours.
Gideon shook his head, sighed, and muttered to himself. Pivoting, he looked down on you with a pinched mouth, his eyes hidden in the shadow cast by the brim of his hat. “Yeah, well. We still knew what we were doing.” The cutting edge of his words dismissed you and he spurred his horse into a faster trot.
I think you’re just ashamed and don’t know how to admit that you liked it. A ghost whispered. The soft choke of his death rattle gripped your memory and you flinched from it.
The hardheaded hold Gideon held on his grievances made your teeth clench. If only the perfect string of words existed to compel him to release them, you would draw the strands from the air, thread them together into a net, and cast their influence over his mind to pluck his heartstrings and make him remember the boy he once was; the one who looked upon you so fondly. But the notion came to a halt at that, for was he ever a boy capable of thinking beyond his own wishes, considering the thoughts of others?
“You’re so selfish. You’ll never change,” you found yourself saying without thinking. But he did not catch your words, and you spoke up as your despisal surged anew. “Maybe you knew what you were doing when you groped me, and ground yourself against me, and kissed me slovenly, but I didn’t. Because maybe you’ve forgotten, but I just sat there. You only ever cared about making yourself happy.”
He scoffed. “As much as I know you’d like to think it is, this isn’t about what happened between us. I stopped thinking about you in that way a long time ago, along with asking myself why. What you offered—” Gideon cut a withering look to your frame and grunted. “Wasn’t that special. There’s plenty of other girls out there. I’m just glad I didn’t end up in a goddamn carpet.”
Further and further away your hope slipped. Your heartbeat pounded in your head, making it throb and ache as you hung over the horse’s side and your feet grew numb. Inevitably, water pricked your eyes. A chill breeze brushed past your nose and snot began to dribble from the end of it while your vision blurred and your voice broke.
“There is no getting through to you, is there?”
In reply, Gideon only spurred his horse to trudge an incline in the road and leaned back in the saddle, steering away from the deeper patches of snow. A knot formed in your throat as you choked down useless tears. He owed you nothing. His nature was not understanding, or reflective, or critical of himself. It was self-righteous and vindictive. The conviction rested in his eyes as unyielding as the laws of justice. An ounce of sympathy from him was as likely as drawing blood from a stone.
Bitterly, your head fell, and you sucked your quivering, gashed lip. One last time, you tried to implore him. One last time, you sought your freedom, because it was the only thing you had left to lose.
“You can let me go. I’ll never come back here! Whatever you’re trying to prove, you don’t have to–”
And he slapped you across the face to shut you up.
The strike stung like nettles and your ears rang. Shrinking away, your mind blanking with static and noise and blinding white despair, fresh blood spilled from your lips from the slap and your trembling body remembered how cold your dip in the river had been. Worse was the wind, billowing down from across the distant mountain peaks, and the shivers set in deep. The trot of the horse went on, up a hill and off the trail through the terrain once more.
In silence, in anguish, in defeat, you wept. Over the side of a horse, bound, slapped, and subdued, you wept and embraced the taste of salt. For your lost girlhood. For the grandmother who raised you and the mother who did not have the chance. For your life, for the ruination of your dreams, from the unfairness of it all. Was this the harvest of all that had been planted for you? Bone-weary, you slumped against the animal’s hide and let yourself rock with each step. If only sleep could take you. You were ready for all of this to be over, to be a dream you could wake from in a sweat and try your best to forget. Bleeding and shivering, you longingly ached for something to fetch you out of your present existence, and lead you upwards and onwards, but you had no heart left for anything.
Glancing up at the sky, a bank of clouds enveloped the moon. Over wood, over water, the flood of its silver radiance receded, the ensuing darkness weaving a mystery in every drop of dew and creaking branch. An owl hooted, but its mate did not answer. The stars did not have any either as you searched for them.
The tall trees rustled, violently unsure, and the night breeze carried a sickly sweet scent in its passing, as if stirring something hidden under rotting leaves. As Gideon passed beneath them, the ragged shadows cast from the spruces closed in, and in the gloom an old stone rose from the earth like a grave. It may as well have been your own. Darkened by the color of moss and damp, the granite ledge presided over the forest, sundered by some glacial movement from the mountains eons ago while death and rebirth churned in the woods all around.
Unable to face what was to come, you turned your head. But in so doing, you caught sight of Willa trailing you from a short distance, the spot of white on her forehead unmistakable, and your tears subsided. Your heart glowed and lifted; a wobbly smile dimpling your cheeks. Graceful and poised, steadfast and resilient, she trotted in the passing shadows like she was of its fabric, her coat the same shifting shades of moonlight while she moved like a river, the sinews of her forearms and chest a changeful, inky black above her socks of white. Her hooves were too soft to hear in the spongy dirt.
Willa’s softly brown and gleaming eyes held a star in them. Every journey you embarked on, she was beside you. She carried your bushels of burdock root and feverfew and fireweed back to your cottage without complaint, conveying you home through the forests and switchbacks countless times, and in turn you took care of her since the day your grandmother bought her from the livery.
The events which occurred in the past day loosened your foothold on your sense of self. But in that moment, pondering Willa, it came back to you. You remembered who you were, and what you believed you were meant to be. A girl brought up to respect the Earth and revere it, who kept hope in her heart always, and dreamed that she could be loved. With crystalline clarity, your mind broke free from its chains and a wind stirred a flame back to life inside of you.
From a drained well of will, you gathered your strength, braced yourself for another struggle and one last trial of endurance. While you raced to think of a way to cut your binds, Gideon’s head snapped around, and you stopped. His revolver was drawn in a flash and his horse whinnied and raked its hooves. He fixed his eyes on the tree line and you strained for any telltale sound while his gelding started to canter to the side uneasily. Something spooked it.
“What is it?” you hissed. He ignored you.
A twig snapped close by. “Who goes there?” he called out. Not far off, a ribbon of campfire smoke wove up into the night air and you squinted at the shadows.
Gideon tugged the reins hard to the left and clicked his spurs, venturing to investigate and evade the open clearing. Your head joggled with the movement and you grunted. A patch of ground ahead, though sideways from your point of view, appeared odd, misshapen, the thick carpet of pine needles too obvious to be natural. But Gideon was not watching his tread and aimed his horse’s walk right over it.
A dire creak made you freeze.
“Look out!”
It was too late.
A shrieking snap, and next, the wind was in your ear as the earth gave out from beneath. With a cry, the horse stumbled and reared and everything went upside down. Your heart seized during a timeless, weightless, airless second as a lattice of concealed logs collapsed beneath the load of Gideon and his horse, and you all fell in an outcry.
The sap and pine scent of fresh wood rushed up your nose as it cracked all around you. Unable to reach out for anything or protect your face, the sharp edges of branches snagged at your clothes and stabbed at your sides, needles scraping and stinging your skin. When the slamming force of the ground ended it all, a spike of wood tore a scream from you as it impaled your thigh.
The tumult fizzled to a static in your ears. You roiled on the dirt floor of the manmade pit, curling into yourself like a pill bug at the hot, pulsing throbs of pain in your leg surrounding the intrusion. You cried out at the unbearable and debilitating burning shooting throughout your body. Throat raw, vision white, breath sawing raggedly, your senses came clear enough for half a moment to observe Gideon, still astride his hysterical animal, gripping the bridle and urging the horse out of the pit. He kicked it harshly to vault over the rim back to solid ground.
He spared you one glance before riding off, and left you.
Tears stung your eyes and you wailed out your pain freely. Scratching at the rope around your wrists was useless, your nails only drew blood. All over, your body ached with bruises and fatigue, and it depleted all of your strength to focus on your breathing alone. Frustration and pain tangled in your chest like a mass of snakes, warring each other, and all you could to do alleviate the pain was roll onto your uninjured side. Your leg gushed like an oil-well.
Once everything started to fade, time ceased mattering, and you slipped in and out of consciousness. You blearily wondered why you were still fighting. A cold sweat chilled your neck and your chest palpitated unbearably.
Sounds from afar, beyond the pit, invaded your ears. There were hoof beats. The shouts of more riders, pursuing Gideon most likely. He would be rounding up what was left of the Sheriff’s posse, going after this gang that has been troubling this valley the past few days. No doubt this pit was dug by them, a trap for someone who got too close to where they were camped out. The whole town would be in a frenzy, meanwhile you...fading, languishing in the dirt…no one would find you in time…
With a quavering sigh, you began to let go. There was only so much your body could take; it would so much easier to sink into this grave than crawl your way out. To breathe became like listening to a lake lap a shore with its waves, growing fainter, quieter, and more still.
The moonlight was serene, and the coolness of this cavity of earth was welcome. Tree roots poked from the stratified layers of dirt, worms and centipedes clinging to the moisture therein. Above, a scuff of needles and a snort announced the presence of your most trusted friend.
Willa whickered, eyes finding your curled form in the pit. She paced around the edges. What remained of your hope ached. Through a glaze of tears you tried to speak, to soothe her, but no sound broke from you other than a whimper. But you were not alone. Never alone…in these woods…these mountains…with these familiar stars above…until unknown, male voices dispelled the cloud hovering over your thoughts.
“I’m telling you, I heard something. Someone in pain.”
Footsteps, a pair of them. You fought to stay awake, aware, but your willpower was slipping like the final sands through the waist of an hourglass.
“It’s probably another one of them law boys,” someone grumbled. “Maybe we caught one.”
“As soon as Dutch gets back we need to skip town without kissin’ the mayor goodbye.”
“You’re telling me. We should’ve left after that business last night.”
A haze began to drift over you again, sweeping you under the blessed numbness unconsciousness promised. Your eyelids were so, so heavy.
Willa nickered, the white of her eyes showing as the pair of men presumably approached her.
“Whoa, easy there.” One of the men regarded her, gently shushing and calming her in a matter of moments. In a way only you could—
“Look.”
“It’s a girl. Tied up like a steer.”
A gun being holstered, a thump of feet, and you were no longer alone. A shadow passed over the moonlight on your face. It was too dark to see, to know if you were about to be saved or damned by whoever was crouching over you. Dimly, you hoped you looked too powerless and broken to be mistreated.
“Pl—please,” your weak words tasted of copper. The apricot glow of a lantern warmed your face, and you looked up into a pair of eyes you trusted instinctively.
“What happened here?” The man who asked you this was older, with graying blond hair swept beside his temples. You had never seen him before. He had deep lines beside his shrewd eyes and his mouth was grim, but a kindness of understanding softened his countenance. It had been such a long time since any sincere compassion had looked at you through eyes other than your grandmother’s.
“Deputy—was bringing me in—left me here—“a spasm of pain interrupted your slurred speech. Wincing, you gestured to your thigh with your chin, seeing the pool of red darkening your pant leg for the first time. “Can’t move.”
The older man’s companion joined him in the light of his lantern. He was younger; tall and well-built, with a gun belt slung across his hips replete with ammunition, the brass of his bullets shining. A satchel hung from his side and he unsheathed a hunting knife attached to his belt. The quick gleam of it filled you with uncertainty.
“Easy, miss,” he raised his hands. “We don’t mean you any harm. I’m just gonna cut you free. Hold still.”
In a few saws of the blade the rope loosened its pitiless hold over your limbs; the relief of clutching your wound with your own hands was enough to make you sob. The men grew quiet, considering your condition. All of the blood was draining from your head, like it was all racing to escape out of your leg. The chunk of wood was buried in it, likely holding back a gushing torrent of crimson like the river miles and hours back. You wanted nothing more than to yank it out. It had not gone all the way through.
“We need to take her to a doctor,” the older man asserted, and his companion made a noise of protest. “I don’t know if Susan and Bessie can patch this up.”
“No—“ you cut him off, as forcefully as you could. “I can’t—I can’t go back there,” your breath began to labor and dizziness crept in as you moved to sit with your back against the packed dirt wall of the pit. “They’re gonna—gonna hang me, for killing that awful man.”
Clutching the wound, the blood oozed out warmly between the webs of your fingers, the dark, iron scent of it pungent in your nostrils. Air hissed out sharply between your teeth.
The two men looked to each other in mute discussion.
It left you in a sad whisper: “You should just leave me here.”
“We’ll help you.”
“We will?”
“Arthur.”
The fading began in earnest. You were incapable of protesting what came next. A pair of hands grasped your elbows, guiding you to your feet, which only stumbled because there was no strength left in your legs. Boneless, a broad chest caught you, your head lolling in the pillow of an arm, your nose grazing the fur of a jacket, and you burrowed into the scent of smoke and forest with a groan.
“We need to get back.” The lantern flame was doused, and the arms surrounding you lifted you in their hold. Your lashes fluttered to catch a glimpse of him, the man who held you, but his hat cast a shadow over his gaze and the night around him was dark with blue.
“You’ll be safe with Arthur, miss,” a voice said, but you were far away, lost to memories and hollow dreams. They dragged you down deep with pictures of bluebells in a water puddle, of lightning flashes through a curtain, of useless wrists beside you.
Your last awareness was of a sky made of woods and branches, with all of its stars perishing.
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x female reader#arthur morgan/reader#rdr2#rdr2 fanfic#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan fic#red dead redemption x reader#red dead redemption fic#rdr#rdr fic#arthur x reader#a dream's winding way#*my writing
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The Girl with the Glass
Trystan finds a mysterious scrapbook. Emily has a deep conversation with a stranger.
trystan x emily
teen | wc: 2.5k | cw: mentions of grief
cfwc prompt: ‘visiting a holiday market’ & ‘the holidays won’t be the same now that they’re gone’
a/n: happy holidays, everyone! this drabble is inspired by an influx of things – mostly my favorite film, “amélie,” if you couldn’t tell by the title. (which, of course, is not-so-subtle-symbolism). enjoy! ♡
“It’s your turn, Trystan!”
Snow sprinkled downwards, little husks of angels drooping to the wintry ground. Crowds of faces walked the busy New York streets, surrounded by shiny knickknacks and dusty clothes. Cheeks were stained pink, and lips curled upwards in the holiday spirit. Trystan urged out a cocky grin, arms around Emily’s waist.
“Is it, now?”
“Yes, it is! I’ll go and get something for us to eat.”
Trystan pecked her forehead, whispering, “Do something good!” before disappearing into the crowd. He grew fond of these new habits of love, searching for a trinket to take back to their hearth.
It was a silly tradition, but a tradition nonetheless. It began with a scratched Pierrot figurine Emily bought from a vintage shop. Ivory skin and porcelain eyes, and a black-and-white costume with a frilled collar. Like some haunted elf on the shelf, the clown explored the apartment all by itself – according to Trystan, at least. The second well-loved piece was a gift from Marguerite: a brass ladybug ashtray. Neither Emily nor Trystan smoked, though the aureate bug was far too interesting to be thrown away. The most recent find was a print of Renoir’s The Luncheon of the Boating Party Emily purchased from a local art gallery. Both of them adored it; the celebration of warmth and good company, the splendid wines and fruits, calmness and beauty in the mundane. Drinks and company aside, Emily was far more fascinated with the girl with the glass. A sullen woman drinking wine in a sea of chatting strangers.
It was Trystan’s turn, and he was keen on finding an old book of sorts. He insisted on a leather novel of yellowed papers and annotated lines, with intricate Victorian details along the spine. Trystan paused, exhilarated at the antique booth before him. Forgotten scrapbooks, noir polaroids, rotten thrown-away cameras, and fringed lamps cornered him with an enticement to explore.
Emily wandered around the opposite side of the market, searching for food vendors. A strange harmony bubbled inside her; a soft scent, a beam from the clouded sun. She breathed in the scent of chestnuts and red wine, a wintry chill slipping through her bones. Silver bells danced in the December wind, faces greeting each other with a blissful smile. It was a perfect moment, a painting from her own eyes.
On the sidewalk stood a white-haired woman in a vibrant Christmas sweater, her cane tapping the frozen ground. Breaths escaped her parted lips in subtle clouds of white. Trystan’s words repeated in Emily’s head, a determination settling within her. This was peace and contentment; the mundanity of a random December afternoon.
“Excuse me, ma’am, do you need help?”
“Yes, please!”
“Careful of the curb, here we go!”
The woman held onto the cane, her other hand wrapped around Emily’s. Her heart burst at the scene developing around her. Laughs and joyous days echoed around her, the wind so sweet she gulped for more.
“Hear that? That’s a florist laughing, he has crinkly eyes! A booth that smells like eucalyptus and rose is selling crystals and botanical postcards. The food truck across them is selling lollipops and hot cocoa for children. A farmer’s booth has rows of persimmons, oranges, and tangerines. Next to the fruits, a baby is watching her dad throw his hat in the air. We’re at the end of the market, there’s a bookstore and a vinyl shop in front of us. I’ll leave you here, goodbye!”
The elderly woman struck out a pleased laugh, touched by moments folding around her. Memories of today fell like dominoes, scattering about like new snow. Her cheeks shined pink as Emily cradled her hand, stilling the woman’s trembling fingers.
“Have a good day,” She whispered before walking off.
“Wait,” The woman called out, “Are you hungry? Let me get you something to eat!”
* * * *
Emily and the white-haired woman split an orange and two empanadas on a quiet bench. Emily, of course, peeled the oranges in thirds, ignoring the pith underneath her nails.
Familiarity struck her as she handed the woman an orange. Her father’s willow-leaved eyes resembled the stranger’s. Perhaps in another life, Jimmy Rose grew old and never walked the grounds of Box Thirty-Two. To breathe with wrinkled skin and grey hairs, lines creasing about his lips and forehead.
“What’s your name?”
“Diana.”
“I’m Emily,” she hid the third orange wedge in her coat pocket, “Do you like the food?”
“I love it,” Diana grinned, “God, that vendor was beautiful, wasn’t she?”
Emily gulped, taken aback, “How could you tell?”
The other woman laughed and patted her lap, “Partial blindness. I can only see things if I’m up close.”
“Oh!” Emily blushed awkwardly, “I’m sorry – I didn’t-”
“Don’t worry.”
“But, er, yes, the vendor was beautiful.”
Diana perked up, casting an amused grin, “Are you a lesbian?”
“Bisexual. My partner wanted to check this market out. He’s looking for…I dunno, some trinket to take home, and I told him I’d get us some food. Are you…also…?”
Diana nodded.
“How old are you?”
“Sixty-eight. And you?”
“Twenty-eight,” Diana winced.
“Don’t worry, it does get better.”
Emily shrugged, unconvinced. Her bones were brittle as if made of glass, jaded memories of Drakovia hitting her like violent waves against a sandy beach. Grief thrashed inside her head so intensely she’d wake up in the night, begging for air. There was avoiding it, no going under or over it. Whether she’d acknowledge it or not, trauma and grief permeated her life.
“When?” Emily asked innocently, her eyes burning. Diana scooted slightly closer, resting her wrinkled hand over Emily’s.
“When does it get better?” Emily nodded, cringing at her childish question, “However long it takes. Eventually…it’ll pass.”
It had been sixteen years. Sixteen years, and it had, indeed, not passed. She swore that she’d be done with everything by twenty. That foolish promise broke, and twenty-eight was no different than twenty. All that was left of Jimmy Rose’s legacy was a cruel memory.
“It’s been almost twenty years. I don’t think it will.”
Emily gritted her teeth, furrowing her fingers into her hands until they became beet red. With a blink of an eye, she was no longer the famed private detective who took down the Heartache Killer; but a tall child with no father.
“Oh, Emily,” Diana cooed, “I’m so sorry. But that’s simply not true,” She murmured, struggling to find the right words, “Nothing lasts forever. Things pass, lives go on, and it feels fucking awful when you’re…stuck. But when we are stuck, all we have is each other. To get by, at least.”
Emily’s walls began crumbling. Her hands instinctively covered her face, sheltering herself from the world. Diana granted her some space, moving closer to the other end of the bench.
“I’m sorry,” Emily rubbed her face, grasping at anything to change the subject. With a pained sigh, she uttered, “Y’know, I don’t really like Christmas. I just–I’m just here because of a stupid tradition.”
“I don’t either,” Diana said, “But my wife loved it. Every year, God bless her soul, she’d always cook the worst beef wellington ever!” Diana with a familiar gleefulness, “I’d always eat it. I mean, it was atrocious and entirely raw, but she cooked it. Made with love…and absolutely no seasoning. I would do anything to have it this year.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Emily whispered, “Her wellington must’ve made your day. My dad took me to Rockefeller Square every year until he passed. I always thought he was a king for that,” She chuckled, “I remember seeing it for the first time. I didn’t even know trees got that big.”
“He sounds like an amazing Dad. I am so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. I try to remember the good things about him. It helps keep his spirit alive.”
Inklets of snow trailed down and stained their hair, solemness in the wind. Emily cleared her throat, pushing past the silence.
“Can you tell me more about your wife?”
“Of course,” Diana beamed, “Her name was Dani. She lived in the apartment next to mine. She was an amazing pianist - I’d always hear her playing through the walls. One day, I knocked on her door and asked if I could listen to her.”
“Do you remember what song she played?”
“Yes! It was, hm, ‘Camptine?’ No – ‘Comptine d’un autre été.’ You really should listen to it sometime.”
“I’ll hold you to that…how long were you two together?”
“Twenty years and ninety-eight days – but who’s counting? We were completely different,” Diana’s face grew serious, “And she was so different in the end, too. It’s odd to see someone die when they’re already gone and so, so small.”
Emily fiddled with her hands, jaws clenched, “I’m so sorry, Diana. I can’t imagine losing–” She choked on a small pit in her throat, “I just can’t imagine a loss like that.”
“Thank you. The two of us had an amazing life. We really did. I mean – sometimes I still see her, even in little things, I still feel her with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I see her everywhere,” Diana’s lips quivered, “I see her when it rains, and I think of the song she played for me when we first met. I saw La Traviata last summer, and all I thought about was her. Whenever I walk by a deli, I think of her God-awful beef wellington.”
A glint of doubt shimmered in Emily’s eye. Uncertainty twisted her insides, striking with fierce ripples of despair and mourning.
“Listen to me,” Diana said sternly, “One day at a time is all we got. So go on and live. But, when the time does come…kiss his forehead, rub his feet, play a song. It will be hard, and I don’t think it will ever go away completely. But I promise – after some time, you’ll wake up and feel, maybe not better, but as if you’ve adjusted to the pain of it all. And then it won’t hurt so much.”
A surge of preemptive grief washed over Emily, though tears never flooded her eyes. The burdens of the past and deaths of the future weren’t gone, but instead quiet and still in her mind. Death is only a moment, a bitter soul slipping into the next room. Two words repeated in Emily’s head until she was content.
“Thank you. I never thought of it that way…thank you.”
Easy silence lay upon them, the words shared by each other warm in their throats. Flurries of unknown faces passed by, snowflakes tangling in their hair with ease. Spotting Trystan in the crowd of strangers, Emily greeted the mischievous smirk on his face, hands tucked behind his back.
“Hey partner,” Trystan kissed the top of Emily’s head, “And who’s this?”
“I’m Diana…and you must be who Emily was telling me about!”
“Oh, yeah? What’d she tell you?”
“Your deepest and darkest secrets, obviously,” Emily deadpanned, “...You hiding something back there?”
With a smug grin, Trystan unveiled a wrapped gift. He chuckled, “You’ll see! I’ll show you later.”
“Hey, I also got you something!” Emily grabbed the orange slice from her pocket, wiping away tiny beads of lint. Trystan’s face lit up, mouth agape.
“I love you. Thank you,” Trystan pecked her forehead once more before biting into the citrus, “And it was lovely meeting you, Diana. I hope Emily didn’t tell you every secret of mine.” Diana laughed, shaking his hand.
“Of course not. And Emily?” She whispered into her ear, “Remember what you’re here for.”
* * * *
“Do I seriously need to be blindfolded for this?”
“I mean,” He pressed his hands tight against Emily’s eyes, “Yeah, you do.”
Emily grumbled, rolling her eyes through the thick wad of fabric tied around her head. A week had passed since she met Diana, and all that was in her mind were her tender words. Emily fixed her pout, forcing a tooth-shining smirk as Trystan led her across the apartment.
“The things I do for you.”
“Careful, darling,” Trystan gently moved her away from hitting the coffee table, “And sit…err, right here!”
“Can I take the blindfold off now?”
“Not yet!”
Sounds of scuffling surrounded her, and Emily grew curious. Trystan had been hiding something since the trip to the market. Whenever she’d mentioned it, he’d waggle a finger to his lips and utter gibberish.
Emily scoffed, amused, “Is this about that thing you got last week?” Trystan snickered with a childlike excitement.
“...Maybe.”
The tussling stopped, and Trystan sat beside her. Resting a hand on her thigh, he grinned, “Okay! You can take it off now.”
“Oh…my God!”
A leatherbound scrapbook and a dainty film camera plastered with Hello Kitty stickers sat across them. Colorful children’s doodles scuffed the book cover, crayons covering every inch. Squiggly letters in blue and red revealed the title: RoSe fAmilY aDveNtureS. Emily gasped, flooded with faint memories of her father. With flushed cheeks, she turned to Trystan and gawked.
“Trystan!” Emily squealed, “You found this last week?”
“Mhm,” He bobbed his head, “I showed it to Tommy to make sure. He said he must’ve accidentally donated it while cleaning up the attic. It…may or may not have taken me a long time to figure out how to use the camera – but it works! I’ll hook it up to the TV, okay?”
“I fucking love you.”
Emily and Trystan flipped page after page, soaking in long-forgotten moments of Emily’s past. At the top of each page contained a laminated label. Little Emily as San, Halloween 2002. Trip to Luzon, June 2005. Fluffernutters and Chocolate Rocks!
Stacks of polaroids were taped against each other, smiles and blissful memories in every photo. One quickly seized Trystan’s attention. ‘2001’ was written at the hem of the photo. At the center, a pigtailed Emily smiled widely at the camera, boasting her half-eaten yan yan.
“God,” Emily grazed her thumb over the polaroid, “I can’t believe you found this.”
“Me too. Maybe we can look through Tommy’s attic sometime. There has to be other books we can find.”
“Can we look through the camera now?”
“Of course!”
Emily grinned at Trystan, warmed by his gift. It’d been years since her heart grew so fondly, a quiet ease running through her body. Her bones were, indeed, not made of glass. She was not brittle and weak, but rather brimming with love and sentiment. Pain and sorrow were in her veins, too, yet on this still and snowy morning, Emily was at peace.
* * * *
A/N: This fic was both such a pain and so nice to write lol. I wanted to give a little thank you to @jerzwriter @lexicook74-blog and @logolepzy for helping me edit this fic! Thank you all so much for your feedback, I appreciate you all SO much.
Tags: @choicesprompts @choicesholidays @choicesficwriterscreations @jerzwriter @logolepzy @mooserii @starsarewithinme @jonathanmoores @shadyinternetblizzard @urcowboyboyfriend @lexicook74-blog @leahtine @jahrobin @icarusfallsforever @kyra75 @calisomnia (let me know if else would like to be added to my crimes tag!)
#crimes of passion#trystan x emily#choices crimes of passion#playchoices#choices#choices cop#choices stories you play#crimes of passion 2#trystan thorne#choices game#moominofthevalley#fanfiction#holiday#cfwc holidays 2023#amelie#the girl with the glass#grief#cfwc#cfwc lgbtqia#🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈
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I just love the idea of Crocodile having an extravagant, eclectic office. Dark, gothic, antique, not enough to be clustered but tasteful. Hhnnuughhh
A high-domed ceiling with ornate carvings supported by marble pillars. Tall arched windows adorned with deep velvet drapes that reveal the lake and the inhabiting bananawani, the dimmed sunlight falling onto the polished floorboards and the accompanying Alabastan carpets.
Polished dark oak bookshelves stretching high up the walls, filled with leather-bound tomes and trinkets from his travels-- ancient marble busts, crystal vials filled with rare perfumes, a polished brass telescope sitting next to hand-annotated maps of the heavens, antique hourglasses filled with sand from each corner of the globe, and a bananawani statue from Lvneel.
Crocodile's desk lies in the very centre of the circular room, dark polished wood with secret compartments, long and sectioned into three parts that curve around his armchair. Stacks of organised papers lie on it, to be signed or read, and a sleeping transponder snail dozes at the edge. A neat row of fountain pens lies next to wax blocks and seal stamps. The seat itself is a green velvet with golden trimmings, tall and imposing.
Colourful Turkish mosaic lamps hanging in the back of the room, lighting up the collection of insects fossilised in amber. A hand-crafted gothic grandfather clock to its left, taller than Crocodile himself.
Just oooooooooooooooooh. Pretty...
#NOOO IF UCKING#DELETED THE FIRST ONE#have to repost so I can dig it up in times of inspiration#smh smh#snailpaste: thoughts#op:crocodile#sir crocodile
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Antiquing Adventures 2 - Hollywood Glam
Next on the list is my Hollywood Regency stuff. Crystals, brass, marble, color, ohhh I love it soo much!!! These are some of the recent pieces that I added to my collection:
This is an Indiana glass bowl - soon, I'm going to have a complete set with candle holders, a candy bowl, and this beautiful centerpiece. Will post more pics once the other pieces arrive.
This babe here is also Indiana glass - it's a candy dish. I just love the amber glass and the smoke colored crystals - it is so unique and beautiful! This will go to my office room but I don't have the slightest idea about what to do with it... Idk, will figure it out.
Last but not least - my gorgeous lamp!!! It was not in the best condition when I first got it. After some cleaning and a new shade ( I have to admit, I'm not a fan of the lampshade), it looks much better now. Again, another item that hasn't found its place yet. Gotta find an end table that is sturdy enough to carry the lamp - it is quite heavy!
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Night of the Nocturne 2022 Haul 🖤
So I had a goal to get at least 500 Strange Chests to open for Notn this year, without buying any, and I did it! I wasn’t as active as I would have liked to be this year but I am still happy with my haul!! Any chests I got after the 500 I sold (I didn’t keep track of my earnings from selling chests though lol).
Here is my haul from opening the Strange chests 🥰
Total Nocturne Eggs: 52
Total Treasure: 15024
Specialty
Breed Change: Nocturne x1
Primary Gene: Fern x7
Secondary Gene: Paisley x5
Scene: Enchanted Dungeon x4
Scene: Strange Chests x6
Scene: Witch’s Kitchen x18
Tertiary Gene: Smirch x2
Vista: Conjurer's Hat x2
Vista: Gossamer Flame x4
Vista: Jester x1
Vista: Plasmpool Armor x3
Vista: Snarling Mimic x1
Vista: Spectral Shroud x4
Vista: Spidered Seat x2
Apparel
Basic Book Collection x4
Black Candle Cascade x8
Candles Cascade x13
Conjurer's Cobwebs x2
Conjurer’s Cloak x5
Conjurer’s Hat x2
Conjurer’s Herb Pouch x2
Conjurer’s Staff x1
Enchanted Cat Necklace x12
Enchanted Orca Necklace x7
Enchanted Owl Necklace x7
Enchanted Raven Necklace x4
Enchanted Stag Necklace x9
Enchanted Wolf Necklace x7
Ghost Flame Candles x1
Ghost Flame Cloak x3
Ghost Flame Collar x1
Ghost Flame Headpiece x1
Ghost Flame Tail Jewel x1
Ghost Flame Tail Ribbon x2
Ghost Flame Wing Ribbon x4
Golden Starswirl x7
Haunting Amber Clawrings x1
Haunting Amber Ghastcrown x3
Haunting Amber Grasp x1
Haunting Amber Forejewels x3
Haunting Amber Nightshroud x3
Haunting Amber Pendants x2
Haunting Amber Taildecor x2
Jolly Jester’s Cap x1
Jolly Jester’s Cape x1
Jolly Jester’s Gloves x2
Jolly Jester’s Stockings x1
Jolly Jester’s Tail Bell x4
Jolly Jester’s Wing Cover x2
Plasmpool Armet x2
Plasmpool Flightshroud x1
Plasmpool Forecallouses x6
Plasmpool Hindcallouses x3
Plamspool Spikescarf x1
Plamspool Tailspine x2
Plamspool Tasset x1
Sky Crystal x1
Woeful Gambeson x1
Woeful Gloves x3
Woeful Presence x3
Woeful Vial x2
Familiars
Afternoon Tea x12
Animated Armor x6
Animated Statue x1
Antique Chair x3
Apparition Lance x2
Articulated Fidget Toy x7
Axe Mimic x5
Banshee Brooch x1
Battered Vase x1
Bewildered Broom x2
Blooming Hedgehide x3
Bogsneak Puppet x1
Book Hoard x8
Book Swarm x9
Brass Knocker x7
Calculating Candelabra x1
Catty Cannon x3
Crypto Cameo x1
Crystal Carrier x3
Curious Kettle x2
Curious Parasol x6
Dancing Chalice x1
Danger Decor x1
Deadly Reflection x3
Decision Maker x6
Dirge Fiddlefiend x2
Ectoplasmime x2
Enchanted Armaments x1
Encouraging Quill x5
Ensorcelled Volume x1
Formal Tea Set x11
Four-Eyed Phylactery x2
Furious Faun x3
Glazed Sentry x4
Guest Greeter x5
Inquisitive Shroud x6
Jawlocker x6
Killer Keyboard x1
Kyorinrin x1
Leisure Loaf x4
Living Luminance x2
Living Sculpture x3
Magic Carpet x2
Magic Mirror x1
Manticore’s Might x2
Masked Phantom x1
Nutcracker x4
Opposing Forces x2
Orbiting Spirit x1
Overwatered Seedling x2
Pinpush Mirror Doll x3
Poltergeist Piano x3
Poltergeist Pile x1
Raucous Runner x3
Ravenous Cauldron x6
Rock Paper Scissors x3
Salt and Pepper x11
Scroll Stealer x2
Serpentine Lamp x4
Serthis Support x4
Seething Stove x2
Silverstring Harp x2
Smoldering Sconce x1
Snapper Nutcracker x10
Snarling Mimic x1
Sorcerous Arms x1
Spellbound Tome x5
Splendiferous Sunshade x1
Spirit Armor x2
Spritely Portrait x1
Steadfast Sweeper x2
Sugar and Spice x11
Swinging Chandelier x4
Tick-Tock x1
Time Devourer x4
Tinder Toy x2
Transmuted Treasure x3
Tricky Telescope x1
Undertide Fidget Toy x10
Unlikely Alliance x2
Veiled Vision x1
Veilspun Verse x2
Vulpine Lamp x2
Wooden Marionette x2
Writer’s Aid x2
#notn#night of the nocturne#flight rising#fr#projects#my hoard#next year if I have the time I wanna try getting 1000 chests#but we'll see lol
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Infusing Antiques into Every Corner of Your Home: Timeless Elegance and Character
Antiques add a touch of history, charm, and sophistication to any home decor scheme, imbuing spaces with a sense of timeless elegance and character. You can create a cohesive design narrative that celebrates craftsmanship, heritage, and personal style by incorporating antiques into every part of your home, from the living room to the kitchen, bedroom, and even the bathroom. This article explores creative ways to infuse antiques into every corner of your home for a truly distinctive and curated look.
Living Room:
The living room is the home's heart, making it an ideal space to showcase your prized antique finds. Anchor the room with a statement piece such as a vintage Persian rug, a hand-carved wooden coffee table, or an ornate antique mirror. Display heirloom furniture, such as a Chesterfield sofa, a Queen Anne armchair, or a Louis XVI console table, upholstered in luxurious fabrics or restored to their original glory. Enhance the ambiance with antique lighting fixtures such as a crystal chandelier, a brass floor lamp, or a Tiffany-style table lamp for added warmth and ambiance. Shopping for antiques online is easier than ever before, so you can find exactly the right item for your space.
Dining Room:
In the dining room, embrace the elegance of bygone eras with a mix of antique and vintage furnishings and decor. Set the stage with a stately antique dining table paired with mismatched chairs for an eclectic and inviting look. Adorn the table with heirloom china, silverware, and crystal glassware passed down through generations, adding a touch of refinement to special occasions and everyday meals. Hang a decorative antique mirror or vintage artwork on the walls to create visual interest and reflect light, making the space feel larger and more luminous.
Kitchen:
Infuse antique charm into functional elements and decorative accents in the kitchen for a cozy and inviting atmosphere. Incorporate vintage kitchenware such as copper pots and pans, enamelware, and cast iron cookware for both practicality and aesthetic appeal. Display antique kitchen gadgets, utensils, and accessories on open shelves or in glass-front cabinets, adding nostalgic charm to the culinary space. Incorporate salvaged architectural elements such as reclaimed wood beams, vintage tin ceiling tiles, or antique hardware to add character and authenticity to the kitchen's design.
Bedroom:
Create a tranquil retreat in the bedroom with a blend of antique furnishings, textiles, and accessories that exude comfort and elegance. Choose a vintage or antique bed frame as the focal point, complemented by heirloom-quality bedding, quilts, and throw pillows for a cozy and inviting sleep sanctuary. For ample storage and timeless style, incorporate antique dressers, vanities, and bedside tables. Enhance the ambiance with soft lighting from antique bedside lamps, sconces, or a romantic crystal chandelier overhead.
Bathroom:
Even the bathroom can benefit from the addition of antique elements to elevate its design and create a spa-like retreat. Install a vintage clawfoot tub or pedestal sink as a striking focal point, paired with antique-inspired fixtures such as faucets, towel bars, and light fixtures for added charm. Display antique perfume bottles, apothecary jars, or vanity trays on countertops or shelving for a touch of old-world glamour. Incorporate vintage textiles such as embroidered towels, lace curtains, or Turkish bath mats to soften the space and add texture.
Conclusion:
Infusing antiques into every part of your home adds depth, character, and personality to your decor, creating a cohesive design narrative that reflects your unique style and heritage. From the living room to the kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom, incorporating antique furnishings, textiles, accessories, and decorative accents enhances the ambiance and creates a sense of timelessness and elegance throughout your home. Embrace the beauty of the past and let your home tell the story of generations past, present, and future.
#Best Ways To Prevent The Most Common Plumbing Problems#Plumbing Problems#broken pipes#leaking pipes#clogged toilets#garbage disposals#prevent drains from clogging#plumber in tinley park#tinley park plumbers#plumber in orland park#orland park plumbers#plumber in homer glen#homer glen plumbers#plumber in frankfort#frankfort plumbers#plumber in mokena#mokena plumbers#plumber in lemont#lemont plumbers#plumber in new lenox#new lenox plumbers#plumber in oak forest#oak forest plumbers#plumber in homewood#homewood plumbers#plumber in midlothian#midlothian plumbers#plumber in crestwood#crestwood plumbers#plumber in palos park
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From Classic to Contemporary: Choosing the Perfect Chandelier for Your Lobby
The lobby is one of the first spaces guests see when they enter a hotel, setting the tone for their entire stay. A gorgeous chandelier catches the eye and creates an unforgettable first impression. When selecting Chandeliers for the lobby, consider the size of the space, your hotel's aesthetic, and how the lighting fits into the overall design. Follow these tips for finding a show stopping fixture that welcomes guests in style.
Factors to consider when choosing a chandelier for your lobby-
Measure the Space
When choosing Chandeliers for the lobby, scale is key. A fixture that is too small gets lost, while an oversized piece feels awkward and overwhelms the room. Carefully measure the dimensions of your lobby to determine the appropriate size for your lighting fixture. In general, the chandelier should make a statement while leaving plenty of open ceiling space around it.
Match Your Hotel's Style
The chandelier should align with your hotel's overall aesthetic and design scheme. For a contemporary hotel, sleek, minimalist fixtures set the modern mood. Opt for curved art deco silhouettes or intricate, nature-inspired branches for boutique hotels with a glamorous vibe. Luxurious crystal chandeliers set a formal tone in upscale, classic spaces.
Consider the Shape
The chandelier's shape makes a difference in its visual impact. Rectangular and square fixtures have an elegant, orderly look. Circular shapes create a soft, eye-catching glow. For a unique statement, try an abstract or asymmetrical chandelier.
Select the Right Materials
Crystal, metal, glass, ceramics - lobby chandeliers come in endless chic materials. Crystal refracts light beautifully for sparkling opulence. Wrought iron or antique brass offer old-world richness. Bubbled glass or ceramic tiles bring an earthy texture. Choose materials that align with your hotel's look and feel.
Incorporate Other Lighting
While the Chandeliers for the foyer take center stage, incorporate layered lighting for functionality and ambiance. Flush mount ceiling lights provide general illumination. Accent lighting on artwork adds depth. Table and floor lamps create a welcoming glow in seating areas. Dimming controls allow you to set the perfect mood.
Conclusion: Make a Dazzling Impression
With the right lobby chandelier, you can transform an entrance from forgettable to extraordinary. From sparkling crystal statement pieces to minimalist modern fixtures, light up your hotel in style. Follow these simple steps for choosing a chandelier that captures your distinctive vision. When guests step into the warm, dazzling glow of your lobby, they'll know they have arrived somewhere special.
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Lighting History: A Collector's Guide to Oil Lamps Antique
Lighting has been a vital aspect of our history and has evolved from the earliest sources to the advanced lighting systems that we use in the present. There are a myriad of lighting gadgets that have graced homes over the years. Old oil lamps antique are a standout as timeless objects that not only brighten spaces but also share captivating tales of craftsmanship and design. In this guide for collectors, we explore the rich history of the oil lamp as we explore their development and importance, as well as discuss the ways Bidsquare, an online auction site platform, gives enthusiasts an opportunity to purchase these precious objects.
The Early Beginnings
The history of lamps dates back to ancient times when early people utilized primitive vessels filled with animal fats as well as plant oils to make lighting. The early Egyptians are believed to have invented some of the first forms of lamps, which were typically made from bronze and clay. Over time, the appearance and function of these lamps grew, and their use by the Greeks and Romans aided in the development of technology.
The Middle Ages and the Renaissance
During the Middle Ages, lamps were more popular throughout Europe. Artisans began to experiment with different materials like metal and glass, which enhanced both the aesthetic and functional aspects of these devices for lighting. The Renaissance period witnessed a rise in artistic expression, and lamps became complex pieces embellished with intricate designs, showing the skill of skilled artisans.
The Victorian Era
The 19th century was an important change in lamps. The Victorian period was characterized by an interest in luxury and ornamentation, which influenced the style of lamps to be more elaborate and attractive. Materials like brass, porcelain, and crystal were the most popular, and lamps were regarded as symbols of class and prosperity. The use of glass coloured with colour and intricate designs became popular at this time.
The Transition to Electric Lighting
As the 20th century progressed as it did, the development and widespread use of electronic lighting caused the loss of lamps that were in common use. But, the aesthetics and craftsmanship of vintage lamps never stopped enthralling admirers and collectors. Nowadays, these lamps serve as a nostalgic reminder of a past era that is revered for its historical value and artistic significance.
Collecting Antique Oil Lamps
For those who love collecting antique lamps, they aren't just functional objects but artifacts that give a glimpse of the past. The wide range of styles, materials, and artistry makes every lamp distinctive. Collectors usually seek out particular types, such as Victorian Banquet lamps, Aladdin lamps, and earlier American light bulbs made from glass according to personal taste and historical significance.
Illuminating Collections through Online Auctions
In this digital age, collectors have an effective instrument at their disposal to purchase antique lamps: the auction site Bidsquare. Bidsquare is a platform that brings together trusted auction companies, dealers and collectors, providing an assortment of antiques, which includes a wide range of lamps from the past.
How Bidsquare Works
Bidsquare is a user-friendly website for collectors to search auctions and bid on and purchase old lamps from their own homes. Bidsquare provides rich descriptions, high-quality photographs and information about the provenance of the items, allowing buyers to make educated choices.
Bidsquare works with top auction houses to provide an extensive and diverse selection of old lamps. Collectors can discover various styles, eras and manufacturers, enhancing their collection with rare finds.
Antique lamps serve as tangible traces of our past, showcasing the artistic flair and technological advancements of the past times. Bidsquare's auctions on the internet offer a new way for buyers to purchase these gems and ensure that the history of old lamps will continue to shine brightly into our 21st Century. With the advancement of technology, the timeless lamps are still beacons of the past and invite people to discover how they can appreciate and preserve the art of lighting throughout the centuries.
Bidsquare makes it easy to participate in online live auctions. All you need to do is create an account and register for the auction you are interested in. Once registered, you can start bidding on the items you want. If you are interested in bidding, you can search for live auctions online near me .
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Art Light Chandeliers Factory L.L.C | Antique Brass Lights and Fixtures
Art Light Chandeliers Factory L.L.C
Discover Timeless Beauty with Art Light – Art Light Chandeliers Factory L.L.C is a leading company in the UAE specializing in the manufacturing and distribution of antique brass and decorative handmade lighting products. With a commitment to quality, service, and reliability, we strive to meet our customers’ needs by offering a wide array of high-quality products at reasonable prices.
Our commitment to offering a diverse range of high-quality antique brass lights and fixtures reflects our dedication to enhancing your spaces.
Our products light up hotels, mosques, palaces, villas, shopping malls, and restaurants with elegance.
· Chandeliers
· Floor Lamps
· Moroccan Lights
· Ceiling Lights
· Table Lamps
· Islamic Lights
· Lanterns
· Crystal Lights
· Wall Lights
· Mosque Lights
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notn wrapped
after grinding in the bamboo falls, i have:
13 baku, 8 dreameaters, 5 ethereal tricksters, 4 tengu, 2 gale wolves, 4 umbra wolves, only 2 each of the hainu somehow, 8 fungalhoof qiriq, 2 blacktalon strikers, 11 raptorik warriors, 7 tigerblood foo, 2 mantled foo, and 5 wandering surgepriests.
75 total.
for notn familiars, ive got:
5 snarling mimics, 7 ectoplasmimes, 4 jawlockers, 7 animated statues, only 1 deadly reflection! wow, 4 ensorcelled volumes, 7 living sculptures, 3 magic mirrors, 2 opposing forces, 9 painted marionettes, 6 spellbound tomes, 2 unlikely alliances, 10 wooden marionettes, 5 axe mimics, 6 crooked hatchets, 6 ball-jointed bogsneaks, 4 bogsneak puppets, 5 calculating candelabras, 4 smoldering sconces, 5 crystal carriers, 3 orbiting spirits, 6 enchanted armaments, 5 sorcerous arms, 4 glowing globes, 3 living luminances, 3 masked phantoms, 5 veiled visions, 10 serpentine lamps, 4 vulpine lamps, 6 animated armors, 5 spirit armors, 3 ravenous cauldrons, 5 curious kettles, 3 colubrid columns, 6 serthis supports, 3 inquisitive shrouds, 4 valorous capes, 3 poltergeist piles, 5 transmuted treasures, 7 antique chairs, 3 spidered seats, 6 tick-tocks, 8 time devourers, 4 tricky telescopes, 3 mischievous magnifiers, 3 blooming hedgehides, 4 overwatered seedlings, only 1 ghost viola!, 9 dirge fiddlefiends, 5 pinpush mirror dolls, 6 four-eyed phylacteries, 5 scroll stealers, 7 kyorinrin, 7 vigilant spears, 6 apparition lances, 8 banshee brooches, 5 cryptic cameos, 6 dancing chalices, 11 vigorous goblets, 9 swinging chandeliers, 5 pitfall fixtures, 4 spritely portraits, 7 furious fauns, 5 seething stoves, 3 bouncy broilers, 4 battered vases, 7 glazed sentries, 5 manticore's mights, 5 catty cannons, 11 wicker dragons, 3 tinder toys, only 1 silverstring harp, 5 veilspun verses, 2 bewildered brooms, 6 steadfast sweepers, 6 magic carpets, 6 raucous runners, 4 poltergeist pianos, 6 killer keyboards, 5 writer's aid, 3 encouraging quills, 3 rock paper scissors, 3 decision makers, 6 leisure loaves, 3 danger decors, 3 brass knockers, 10 guest greeters, 4 curious parasols, 3 splendiferous sunshades, 5 salt and peppers, 7 sugar and spices, 15 book swarms, 9 book hoards, 8 undertide fidget toys, 9 articulated fidget toys, 9 nutcrackers, 14 snapper nutcrackers, 7 formal tea sets, 5 afternoon teas, 10 bands of companionship, 10 venom rings, 26(!!) crystal curiosities, 7 ponder orbs, 14 dismayed devilwoods, 11 wallowing willows, 20 eerie baubles, 24 enchanted jewelries, 24 entrapping shackles, 15 treacherous irons, 16 littlest snapdragons, 21 snappish plantings, 16 rogue apparels, AND 13 whimsical ensembles.
APPAREL:
conjurer's set: 36
9 cloaks, 6 cobwebs, 7 hats, 7 pouches, 7 staves
ghost flame set: 44
3 candles, 16 cloaks, 4 collars, 9 headpieces, 4 tail jewels, 3 tail ribbons, 5 wing ribbons
jolly jester's set: 47
8 caps, 7 gloves, 6 collars, 6 capes, 8 tail bells, 7 wing covers, 5 stockings
haunting amber set: 63
9 crowns, 12 pendants, 6 grasps, 9 forejewels, 9 taildecors, 6 clawrings, 12 shrouds
plasmpool set: 67
8 armets, 11 scarves, 4 flightshrouds, 9 tassets, 10 grimplates, 5 tailspines, 11 hindcallouses, 9 forecallouses
woeful set: 39
4 footpads, 6 gambesons, 5 gloves, 6 hoods, 7 vials, 5 tools and 6 presences
the rest: 114
10 sky crystals, 9 book collections, 13 gold starswirls, 10 candle and 10 black candle cascades, 14 timepieces, 27 fanciful castings, and 21 first wishes
necklaces: 60
12 stags, 11 cats, 8 owls, 13 ravens, 9 orcas, 7 wolves
conclusion: help me.
764 familiars. if we add it with the bamboo falls ones, we have 839 total familiars.
470 pieces of apparel.
i am going to be melting these down all year.
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Exploring the Timeless Elegance of Art Deco Lights and Antique Mirrors
In the realm of interior design, few styles captivate the imagination and evoke a sense of timeless elegance quite like Art Deco. Defined by its bold geometric shapes, lavish ornamentation, and a fusion of modernity with luxury, Art Deco has left an indelible mark on design aficionados and enthusiasts alike. Among its most revered elements are Art Deco lights and antique mirrors, each possessing a unique allure that adds sophistication to any space they grace.
Art Deco Lights: Illuminating Elegance
Art Deco lights serve as luminous embodiments of the movement's principles. These fixtures, characterized by sleek lines and exquisite materials, are not merely sources of illumination but rather objets d'art in their own right. From chandeliers exuding opulence in grand ballrooms to streamlined desk lamps adorning chic workspaces, Art Deco lighting fixtures transcend their practical function to become captivating focal points within a room.
The hallmark of Art Deco lighting lies in its geometric motifs and use of luxurious materials. Brass, chrome, glass, and even Bakelite were commonly employed, crafted into striking forms that reflect the movement's fascination with geometry. Angular designs, zigzags, and stepped patterns manifest in sconces, pendant lights, and floor lamps, capturing the essence of Art Deco's bold aesthetic.
The interplay of light and shadow is pivotal in Art Deco design philosophy, and these fixtures masterfully manipulate light to create ambiance and drama. Whether casting a soft glow through frosted glass or dazzling with crystal accents, Art Deco lights possess an unparalleled ability to transform an ordinary space into one of sophistication and allure.
Antique Mirrors: Reflecting History and Style
Complementing the allure of Art Deco lights are antique mirrors, which serve as portals to the past while lending a sense of glamour and intrigue to contemporary interiors. These mirrors, often ornately framed and meticulously crafted, stand as testaments to exquisite craftsmanship and timeless design sensibilities.
Art Deco mirrors embody the era's fascination with luxury and sophistication. The frames, characterized by bold lines, geometric shapes, and lavish embellishments, showcase the movement's penchant for opulence. Intricately designed borders featuring sunbursts, chevron patterns, or streamlined curves add a touch of glamour and drama to any space they adorn.
The allure of antique mirrors lies not only in their aesthetic appeal but also in their ability to visually expand and enhance a room. By reflecting light and creating the illusion of depth, these mirrors amplify the grandeur of their surroundings, making them indispensable elements in the repertoire of interior designers seeking to infuse spaces with elegance and charm.
The Timeless Union
When Art Deco lights and antique mirrors converge in a space, they create a symphony of sophistication and style. The interplay between the luminous allure of the lights and the reflective beauty of the mirrors elevates the ambiance, infusing the room with an unparalleled sense of grandeur.
Whether adorning the walls of a luxurious Art Deco-inspired living room or gracing the foyer of a chic boutique hotel, the amalgamation of these elements transcends mere décor—it encapsulates an era of glamour and refinement. Their ability to seamlessly blend form and function while exuding an aura of timeless elegance cements their status as perennial favorites in the world of interior design.
In Conclusion
Art Deco lights and antique mirrors stand as timeless testaments to an era defined by opulence, glamour, and artistic innovation. Their ability to captivate the senses and transform any space into a realm of sophistication underscores their enduring appeal. Whether illuminating a room with their radiant glow or adding depth and allure through reflection, these elements continue to enthrall and inspire, perpetuating the legacy of an iconic design movement that remains eternally relevant.
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Illuminating Elegance: The Enduring Allure of Vintage Lamps and American Light Fixtures
Adding vintage lamps to your home is a great way to bring history into your room while also making a personal statement. The unique design and artistic expression of each lamp reflect a period long past. The need for unique and individualistic interior design is likely behind the recent uptick in sales of antique lights in the United States.
You can make your house a one-of-a-kind expression of your taste and admiration for the enduring beauty of vintage interior design with the help of lamps, whether you're drawn to the elaborate details of an Art Deco table lamp or the simplicity of a mid-century floor lamp.
In this exploration of antique lamps, we will look at their cultural significance in the United States and showcase five stunning models that you can get at a discount from Fenchel Shades.
The Value of Vintage Lamps in the United States
Timelessness and Nostalgia
Vintage lamps transport people to a bygone period through their design aesthetics, making them feel nostalgic. From the Art Deco glitz of the 1920s to the minimalist mid-century modernism of the 1950s, every antique lamp has a history and represents the aesthetic preferences of its era.
Distinct Design Statements
In a time when mass-produced goods predominated, antique lamps were a striking example of individualistic design. They add character to rooms that generic, mass-produced furniture can't always manage, thanks to their meticulous craftsmanship and meticulous attention to detail.
Environmental Friendliness
Embracing antique light fixtures is in line with the current movement toward eco-friendly lifestyles. By reducing the demand for new manufacturing and decreasing environmental effects, individuals can contribute to a more eco-friendly lifestyle by reusing and enjoying existing products.
Wide Variety of Forms
Vintage lamps are available in a multitude of forms, from industrial-inspired task lights to exquisite crystal chandeliers. Because of this adaptability, homeowners can design visually stunning and one-of-a-kind eclectic interiors by skillfully combining modern elements with more traditional ones.
Five Remarkable Vintage Lamps from Fenchel Shades
#1 Pair Of Vintage Aquarium Blue Glass Table Lamps With Polished Nickel Fittings
The enchanting charm of these two vintage aquarium blue glass table lamps will elevate any room. These lamps deftly combine form and function with their mesmerizing aquatic hues and polished nickel fittings. An ideal way to spruce up any space with a splash of color and style.
#2 Vintage Petites Choses Metal Brass Blackamoor Nubian Man With Bird Cages
The craftsmanship of old lamps is on full display in Blackamoor Nubian Man with Bird Cages. Both a light fixture and an enchanting sculpture, this one-of-a-kind item displays the detailed artistry of a bygone age.
#3 Vintage Hexagonal Pagoda Form Brass Painted Lantern, Circa 1940
The Vintage Hexagonal Pagoda Form Brass Painted Lantern will give your room an air of 1940s glitz. The graceful form of a lantern matches the classic beauty of brass in this magnificent work of art. Hanging from the ceiling, it brings an air of old-world splendor to any space.
#4 Pair Antique French Seltzer Bottle Lamps
These lamps have a classic, country-French vibe that will always be in vogue. You can't go wrong with these lamps made from recycled seltzer bottles for your retro-themed home. They bring a touch of history to your space while also serving a practical purpose.
#5 Pair Nickel Dandelion Accent Desk Console Lamps
These lamps capture the carefree charm of nature and will be a welcome addition to any office. The subtle dandelion pattern embodies nature's beauty, while the nickel plating brings a hint of modern elegance. Ideal for individuals who want their old and modern decor to work together.
Finding Your Way Around the World of Vintage Lamps
Do Your Homework:
Before you buy any antique lamps, be sure you know their history and can verify their authenticity. If you take the time to learn about the pieces' histories and designs, you can buy authentic ones that suit your taste.
Condition & Restoration:
Think about how well the vintage lamps are holding up in terms of restoration. While little wear and tear could be charming, major damage could necessitate expensive repairs. To make a well-informed investment decision, weigh the costs and restoration options.
Style Considerations:
Antique lamps range from those with elaborate Victorian designs to those with a more modern, minimalist aesthetic. Think about the room's current furnishings and the aesthetic you're going for. Harmoniously enhancing your space is the aim.
Functional Considerations:
Check that the vintage lamps serve their purpose. Take a look at the electrical components, including the wiring and sockets. Although rewiring may be necessary for some antique lamps, others may have been well-cared for and are now ready to illuminate your home.
Adopting a Retro Style of Lighting
Even if trends come and go, antique lamps will always be treasured for the memories they hold and the quality of their construction. Their use in American homes is indicative of a need for genuine, character-filled interiors and a respect for the craftsmanship of bygone eras.
Peruse the hand-picked collection of Fenchel Shades as you set out on the path to include antique lamps in your dwelling. Each lamp has a unique history, shedding light on bygone eras while gracefully illuminating the present.
Vintage lamps are a great way to take a trip through time with their charming, one-of-a-kind, and environmentally friendly appeal. Use these beautiful, adorable lamps to decorate your space and give them a luxurious look.
Buy Vintage Lamps at Chandelier Sale from Fenchel Shades
At Fenchel Shades' Chandelier Sale, you will find a collection of vintage lights that exude an air of classic elegance. The understated vintage lighting will transform any room. You can bring a little bit of nostalgia into any space with our carefully selected collection.
These lamps feature one-of-a-kind designs and superb craftsmanship. Careful craftsmanship guarantees a harmonious combination of form and function in every piece, from traditional table lamps to eye-catching chandeliers.
You won't want to pass on this one-of-a-kind chance to give your home a charming retro vibe. Shop now at Fenchel Shades for charming vintage lamps that will add character and warmth to any room.
Original Source, https://bityl.co/NDEp
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Bestow Elegance with the Brilliance of Vintage Wall Sconces
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Bestow Elegance with the Brilliance of Vintage Wall Sconces
In the hushed, candlelit ambiance of an antique-filled room, where the play of light and shadow dances on the walls, there’s a certain enchantment that transcends time. Imagine yourself in such a space, basking in the warm, nostalgic glow of vintage wall sconces. These enduring elements have the power to revolutionize your living spaces into something undeniably remarkable.
In this blog post, we will explore how vintage sconces bestow elegance and brilliance upon your living spaces. Let’s step back in time to discover the timeless allure of these classic lighting pieces.
Table of Contents
1 The Timeless Allure of Vintage Wall Sconces
1.1 Vintage wrought iron wall sconces
2 The Elegance Factor
2.1 Classic wall sconces
3 Types and Styles of Vintage Wall Sconces
3.1 Vintage brass wall sconces
4 Practical Tips for Incorporating Vintage Wall Sconces
4.1 Retro wall sconces
5 Maintenance and Care
5.1 Vintage wall sconce lights
The Timeless Allure of Vintage Wall Sconces
Vintage wall sconces possess a captivating allure that has endured through the ages. These fixtures, harkening back to a bygone era, carry a sense of history and craftsmanship that modern lighting often can’t replicate. Their timeless appeal lies in their classic design elements, often inspired by various prominent architectural periods, such as Art Deco, Victorian, or Mid-Century Modern. When we place vintage sconces in our homes, we’re inviting history, charm, and an air of nostalgia into our spaces.
Vintage wrought iron wall sconces
Vintage Wall Sconces Atop Fireplace
These fixtures have a rich historical significance, tracing back centuries to the days when they held candles or oil lamps. In an age when modern lighting has become ubiquitous, vintage wall sconces offer a sense of uniqueness and individuality. Their iconic design qualities—such as ornate scrolls, intricate detailing, and high-quality materials—have a remarkable power to transform a room, taking it from average to outstanding.
The Elegance Factor
Elegance is the heartbeat of vintage wall sconces. It’s what makes them more than just lighting fixtures; they are symbols of refinement and sophistication. The design styles and finishes offer a world of options to complement various decor themes.
Classic wall sconces
Vintage Gold Wall Sconce
For instance, ornate brass sconces with a patina finish can infuse a sense of regal elegance into a space. Crystal-adorned sconces add a touch of luxury and glamour, reminiscent of grand chandeliers. Simple, minimalist sconces with clean lines can bring a contemporary elegance to modern interiors. The versatility of antique sconces in terms of style and finish allows you to choose fixtures that perfectly align with your personal sense of elegance.
Imagine a stately dining room adorned with crystal-draped vintage sconces, creating a sense of grandeur. Or picture a cozy reading nook, softly illuminated by a pair of antique brass sconces, exuding warmth and comfort. In each case, vintage wall sconces don’t just light up the room; they elevate it.
Types and Styles of Vintage Wall Sconces
Vintage sconces come in a fascinating array of types and styles. They’ve evolved, adapting to different design movements and eras. Some popular types include candle-style sconces that infuse a timeless charm, evoking nostalgia, electric sconces that offer a modern twist on vintage elegance, and gaslight sconces that infuse romance and authenticity into your space.
Vintage brass wall sconces
Styles range from ornate Rococo to the clean lines of Mid-Century Modern. Victorian sconces exude luxury, while Art Deco sconces are known for their geometric patterns and luxurious materials. There’s something for every taste and decor theme, making vintage sconces a functional choice for adding an elegant touch to any room.
Practical Tips for Incorporating Vintage Wall Sconces
Choosing and incorporating vintage wall sconces into your decor requires a thoughtful approach. It’s essential to consider the style, size, and placement of the sconces in your space to craft a personal haven, where sconces infuse essence and harmony. Vintage sconces work beautifully in living rooms where they radiate warmth and character, in dining rooms where they can be conversation starters, in hallways to guide your path with elegance, in bedrooms where they create a sanctuary of comfort and romance, and in bathrooms where they add a spa-like ambiance.
Retro wall sconces
Cleaning Sconces
When selecting sconces, consider how they’ll interact with your existing decor. Do you want them to blend in seamlessly, or would you prefer them to be a statement piece that contrasts with the surroundings? Experiment with placement to achieve the desired illumination and ambiance. Be it framing a mirror, flanking a piece of art, or gracing the hallway, vintage wall sconces have the power to transform your space into a work of art.
Maintenance and Care
As you embark on your journey with vintage wall sconces, it’s essential to consider their long-term care. These fixtures, often showcasing intricate details and delicate materials, require special attention to maintain their elegance.
Vintage wall sconce lights
Preserving vintage sconces requires gentle care, dust them regularly, using a soft cloth to keep them looking their best. For more elaborate cleaning, mild, non-abrasive cleaners are best. Keep the electrical components in good working order, and if restoration is needed, trust skilled professionals to bring back their former glory. The effort invested in caring for vintage sconces is well worth the reward of having these elegant pieces grace your home.
Finally
In the world of interior design, vintage sconces stand as timeless symbols of elegance and sophistication. They cast a radiant spell on any room they adorn, transcending the boundaries of time and fashion. We’ve explored the enduring appeal of these fixtures, their pivotal role in adding elegance to interiors, and the diverse styles and types that enable you to choose your perfect sconce.
As you navigate your own decor journey, consider embracing the elegance and brilliance of vintage wall sconces. Their unique blend of nostalgia and timeless style can transform your living spaces into veritable works of art, telling a story that spans centuries. So, let vintage wall sconces illuminate your world, and embark on a journey that combines the past and the present into a harmonious and elegant living space.
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Home Decor Tips: 7 Gift ideas for a friend/relative who has just moved to a new house
Here is the truth! No one likes receiving clocks or casseroles as a gift when they move into a new house. If you want them to be excited about your gift, then it must be thoughtful, practical, and classy. You can still stick with the basic options yet gift them the most creative products that stand out. Use this as a guide to pick the best gift for your friend/relative who just moved to a new house. Here are some 16 great new home gift ideas that are jaw-dropping and fit your budget too.
Also Read | 10 kitchen design ideas inspired by farmhouse style
Gifts for a friends housewarming
This list has the best house opening gift ideas, everything from compact organizers to kitchen utilities. Think of what works best for your budget and shows how happy you are about their milestone achievement.
Greenery in a pot
Plants are a sign of prosperity and good luck and can be the best gift for home ceremonies. However, traditional planters might not go well with a new home's aesthetics and certainly not work for an indoor environment. As a better option, you can gift them this Floret Delight Planter which is apt for indoor, living room plants.
The unique floral patterns on the top of this planter have a lot of stories to tell and go well with light backdrops. As it's made of Iron material, your gift is going to last for life.
Note that this only comes with a medium-sized planter and not the plant itself. You can choose to gift something like a money plant, snake plant, or Areca palm along with it.
Also Read | Beginners guide: Creative ideas for styling your new living space
Realistic, compact-sized figurines
Cows are highly auspicious for new homes and are brought in during new home ceremonies. Gift your friend or relative a model, compact cow figurine which is this Snow white cow which can be a perfect addition to their living or puja room. It's made of polyresin which promises a smooth, shiny outer surface and makes it durable too. Your friend will be over the moon to receive a gift like this that's unique and beautiful like this. Cleaning this isn't a huge task too, just a cloth is enough.
Also Read | How to select a dinnerware set that matches your home decor?
Note: The same product is also available in other colours like black, blue, pink, golden, etc.
Spread some aroma of peace in the air
Aromatic candles are great gifts for friends' housewarming but they should smell nice, and look good overall. Here is an antique style candle holder Paisley romance scented candle votive with classic designs outside and pleasant smelling vanilla candle inside. The container is made of iron and brass and has bright-coloured motifs all over giving out a pleasing experience.
Also Read | Tips to care for your houseplants this winter
Aesthetic lamps and candles always stand out when it comes to gifting. Choose from our wide range of votives.
A whole box of elegance
Storage boxes and organizers are for everyone and hence pass the check as a thoughtful and useful housewarming gift. But they are mostly lookalike and are made of plastic that brings the whole look down. This Arches of Enigma Storage Box isn't like those regular boxes you see. It has charming flowers and birds digital prints on top and the box is made of glass with a brass frame.
You can even add small jewellery pieces inside to take it up a notch.
In total, the product gives 100% vintage vibes which your friend will adore for their life.
If you are ready to splurge more and want an upgraded version of this, then check out Palaces in Paradise Chest of Drawers made of MDF material and has multiple compartments.
Also Read | Timber hybrid office ensemble EDGE Suedkreuz Berlin
Blue crystal candle holder
Hang (it) in there
Those who moved into new houses look for nice hanging that adorn their walls (anything other than mediocre clocks). Gift them something intriguing and mesmerizing like this Pretty monkey mischief decor plate which is ideal for living and dining room walls.
This product has adorable ethnic designs printed all over that depict monkeys chilling out in palaces. Thus, this is a perfect new home gift idea for that close friend of yours who has this child-like glee.
Also Read | New edb products Spring/Summer 2023
It's sturdy too, as the outside material is MDF which firmly supports the laminated print in the middle. There are other designs too, representing birds, trees, gardens, and more.
Vintage tiffin boxes with a contemporary twist
No matter how many plastic and Tupperware lunch boxes can be in the market, the traditional dabba always has a special place in our hearts. You can make your friends feel special and nostalgic by gifting them this unique Clover’s Knotty Play Lunch Box as a housewarming gift. Tiffin boxes are the most utilitarian gifts one can buy for someone. This cute product here not only is useful but looks enchanting too. The material is stainless steel but it doesn't have the plain silvery look. Instead, the outer surface is pretty pink with alluring patterns and is enamel coated for a polished look.
Also Read | 4 ways to style your interior spaces with copper
Not a fan of pink? Try the blue one instead – the Iron Blooming Dahlia lunch box set.
Modern cupboards require modern storage solutions
New houses call for new storage utilities. Impress your friends/relatives by gifting them such useful storage objects like this Parading Tuskers storage lid. It is a medium-sized storage box made of steel and comes with a lid. The surface is printed with a rare shade of green, Cyan and has intricately designed elephant figures. The tuskers take away all the attention and give a superior, royal look to the product.
The lid is different from what we use every day and adds to the finesse.
If practical gifts are your go-to, then these modern storage containers will be the foremost choice.
Also Read | Kareena Kapoor Khan’s new home in Bandra with European styled decor & wooden detailing
Spoil them with colours
It's hard to say no to vibrant cushion covers that have the power to transform a basic couch. This set of five Chevron Safari cushion covers is one such option that also qualifies to be the best gift for friends' housewarming. Though cushion cover sets are unusual gift options, they have the instant power to impress someone. This particular product resembles a pretty peacock due to its colour and unique designs. India Circus spoils you with different options and has tons of cool, one-of-a-kind fabrics woven into cushion covers.
Also Read | Arabic Resin art decor launches by Artist Madhavi Adalja
If your friend has hard-core faith in Krishna, this Krishna Baugh cushion cover set will be an ideal housewarming gift for them.
Tissue box with flowers and birds
A floral-themed tissue box is a great new home gift idea for those who love to have a piece of art everywhere around them. This Grey Floral Galore Tissue Box Holder is the perfect option as it looks nice and has a strong build too. It's made of MDF material so your gift is going to be long-lasting. The design and colour are also very subtle and remind me of a calm summer afternoon. For anyone, it's a nice addition to their car dashboard, coffee table and dining table area.
Also Read | Shiro Kuramata’s Samba-M shines again with Ambientec at the supersalone in Milan
Let your gift stand out with elegance and scream uniqueness when you choose these durable home-opening gift ideas like this tropical view tissue box.
Coffee mugs that symbolize life
Our gifting custom always has a space reserved for pretty coffee mugs. Want to send a new home gift that's basic yet different from its tribe? Then, this Chevron Palms mug set is ideal for you. It has mild hues, chevron patterns, and palm trees all around it. Palm trees are a symbol of life or a new beginning, which your gift can stand for.
Made of bone China material, they are also rigid and last long. Remind your friends or relatives of your sweet gesture every time they have or serve coffee in this funky coffee mug.
Also Read | Interior stylist Bhawana Bhatnagar on smart lockers at residential spaces
This one has 6 mugs in it. You can send them a set of two coffee mugs too like this Windows of Wisdom Zing mug set.
Brighten the new home
Gifting a lamp is believed to be beneficial for both receiver and the giver. It's because lamps and lights emit brightness and shoes away darkness and fear. Gift your friends or relatives this magical effect by choosing a product like this Signature window cylindrical lamp. This is a fancy version of a regular table lamp and is made of a wooden base and iron frame. The figures and shiny colours outside can elevate the mood of the whole space.
Also Read: Easy Guide To Choose A Color Palette For Your Space
You can also prefer to gift a traditional tabletop lamp similar to this Bird Land Hexagonal lamp. Check out our whole range of unique lamps.
Serving with love
Serving trays are one of the best new home gift ideas because you can have an infinity of them and still not be bored. But should they always come in monotonous shapes, colours, and designs? There is one stellar product that defies this. Take a look at this hexagonal printed Magenta Biome Mystique Tray made of MDF material. It will be a nice addition to house parties and hostings, carrying chips, dips, drinks, or any snackable items.
The most intriguing feature of this product is its hexagonal shape and its bright red colour. Designs are so minimal letting what it holds take up entire attention.
Also Read: 7 Simple steps to Declutter your Work Space
You can have rectangular and circular trays too, like this Chevron Palms tray set and Ariel Moments round bamboo tray.
Your cup of tea
Last but not least, there is one show-stealing, limited-edition product waiting for you. This Verdant Chef d’oeuvre Tea set is the perfect house opening gift that can appear both elegant and business-like. The stunning designs on the teapot and the saucer and the vibrant blue shade of the product will leave you wanting more. It's made of bone China material which makes the whole product looks classy. While you order one for your friend, why don't you buy one for yourself and stock it before it goes out of stock?!
Also Read | Holt Renfrew Ogilvy dazzles as a sustainably forward luxury flagship
7 gift ideas and tips for your loved ones
When you select house-opening gift ideas, keep the following points in mind.
Buy something that they use: When you gift someone to wish for their celebratory moment, make sure the product is useful to them. That way, your gift appears thoughtful and becomes worth the money you invested. You can sneakily check if they have similar products or try to find what they are looking forward to receiving and select a product based on that.
Put extra care into brittle items: Nothing can break someone's heart more than opening a present and finding it in a broken condition. If you are bringing gifts that can break or crack, take extra care to double-pack them or mark them while shipping. Even after handing over the gift, remind them to handle it with care.
Also Read | Bright whites, chrome yellows, and curved geometry put together a space that promotes life
Budget matters: It's okay to splurge to pamper our loved ones. But when you set a budget, you know the boundary within which you could choose a new home gift easily. It controls you from spending too much and allows you to choose the best product for the best price.
The higher budget may also take away the recipient's thunder and cause plain awkwardness to everyone. So, leave out options that are too expensive or too huge.
It shouldn't always be materialistic: It's okay if you don't want to load up your house with another decor item or run low on budget. You can rather offer them something they can experience, ie sponsoring an adventure sport or a vacation or entry tickets to a show, etc.
Also Read | MERAKI: New Adhesive Wall Coverings Designed by Artists From Quebec
Select the right platform: If you don't want to end up with a run-off-the-mill decor item that doesn't look the way it appeared in pictures, you better choose a reputed venture like India Circus. Every product on India Circus is carefully crafted, sourced, and curated to suit everyone's preferences, budgets, and styles. Every product is designed with one of the iconic and unique prints which are rare to find in other home decor and utility objects.
Gifts are something that should and will bring happiness to both parties involved. Share that happiness with your loved ones by sending them a special product from India Circus.
Also Read | Marieville Celebrates Its Past While Building for the Future
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