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#demon light poem
kiragecko · 2 years
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Stop says the red light, go says the green
Wait says the yellow light, twinkling in between. 
KNEEL, SAYS THE DEMON LIGHT
WITH ITS EYE OF COAL 
SAURON KNOWS YOUR LICENSE PLATE 
AND STARES INTO YOUR SOUL
I had so much fun translating the Tiger Poem that I’m back for more!
This time, I’ve coloured the glyphs to make them easier to separate into words. Teal is for verbs, as well as green if there are 2 verbs in a row. Red is for nouns, with red/brown specifically for names. Yellow is for adjectives, pale blue for prepositions. The center diagrams show the order to read the characters.
Here’s the Demon Light Poem in Classical Maya:
(First line: Glyphs (ALL CAPS are word signs, lowercase is syllabic signs)
Second line: Transliteration (how it’s pronounced)
Third line: Exact Meaning
4th line: Translation)
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13-HIX 17-SUTZ’
uxlajuun hix huklajuun suutz’
13-ocelot (14th day sign) 17-bat (4th month)
[On] 13 Hix, 17 Sutz’ (Oct. 18, 2012)
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 ‘u-tz’i-ba AJ-ba-la²-ka-bo-si
‘u-tz’ihb-a-Ø Aj-Balalakaboos
they-write-transitivizer-this honorific-Balalaikaboss
They wrote this, Sir Balalaikaboss:
-
k’u-xa-jo-me-ta che-he CHAK-K’IN-ni
k’ux-aj-oom-eet che’-Ø chak-k’in
stop-intransitivizer-must-you say-they red-sun
“You shall stop,” says [the] red light
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[bi]BIX-xo-me-ta che-‘e ya-YAX-K’IN-ni
bix-oom-eet che’-Ø yax-k’in
leave-must-you say-they green-sun
“You shall go,” says [the] green light
-
hi-la-jo-me-ta che-‘e K’AN-na-K’IN-ni
hil-aj-oom-eet che’-Ø k’an-k’in
“Rest-intransitivizer-must-you” say-they yellow-sun
“You shall rest,” says [the] yellow light
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‘U-‘EK’-k’e-le ‘U-TAN-na
‘u-‘ek’-al ‘u-tahn
they-star-like they-between
star-like, between
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ya-la-jo-me-ta che-‘e WAY-ya-si-K’IN-ni
ya[h]l-aj-oom-eet che’-Ø way-is-k’in
throw.down-passive-you say-they familiar/spirit-unpossessed-light/sun
“You shall be thrown down,” says [the] spirit light
-
tu-ta-TAJ-ja-la ‘u-‘UT
tu-taj-al-‘ut
with.his-torch-like face/eye
with it’s torch-like eye
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‘U-TZ’AK-ka-we-ta ‘a-xo-ko-la-ka K’UH-so-lo-no-‘AJAW-wa
‘u-tz’ak-aw-eet ‘a-xok-lak K’uh-Solon-Ajaw
he-count/add.up-s-you your-accounting-plate Holy-Sauron-Lord
Holy Lord Sauron determines your accounting plate
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yi-‘IL-we-ta ‘a-ma-la-‘OL-la
y-il-iw-eet ‘a-mal-ohl
he-see-s-you  your-within-heart
[and] he sees within your heart
-
‘u-wo-jo-le IX ki-la-ke-ko
‘U-wojol Ix Kilakeko
they-glyph/character Lady-Kiragecko
The glyphs [of] Lady Kiragecko
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whoreshippingbooks · 10 months
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"And with love one can live even without happiness. Life is good even in sorrow, its good to live in the world, no matter how "
— Dostoevsky (notes from underground)
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thatstudyblrontea · 1 year
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I want to love, I want to pray,
want to believe in goodness.
Mikhail Lermontov, Demon
[transl. is mine.]
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itscrystql · 13 days
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I dont know what the fuck it is
That im looking for
That i seek to accomplish with each step i take
Each move i make
Each breathe i heave
.
But the darkness’ hunger is insatiable
it claws and consumes me from within
And it sees no end
Invincibility given to the phantoms
that now possess me
in a state of paralysis i keep myself
to still my beating heart or mind
for some sense of direction or knowing to lead the way
i wish to wake up and know.
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euesworld · 2 years
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"She's angelic, such a soft delight.. but she's wicked at night when you turn out the lights."
If you should ever find her in your bed, you'll find that when you wake up.. you are almost dead, haha - eUë
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a-silver-dragoness · 1 year
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"How long she dreamed to never wake
Not to die but forever sleep
To shed mortal coil and ascend
As dragon goddess
Winged and content"
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I was browsing Tumblr a couple days ago when I was struck with this intense, forest fire of inspiration. I don't remember the exact post, but suddenly it was like "I NEED TO MAKE THIS ART RIGHT NOW", and that burning inspiration hasn't ceased following it's creation.
I really, really want to gush over my favorite, most influential dragons of my life, so be prepared for a long summary/explanation!
From (top) left to right:
Everlasting Dragon, Dark Souls: "Rumour it may be, but I have heard of a surviving ancient dragon who resides in this land. A coterie of Undead serves the dragon, as they train to become dragons themselves. Sounds unlikely, but you never know, do you?"
- Domhnall of Zena
Light Fury, HTTYD THW: My favorite species in HTTYD! A welcome change to the classical "big, scaly monster" category that 90% of dragons fall into. We need more sparkly, feminine dragon species IMO. I know a huge chunk of the fandom hates this species because of it's feminine traits, and the individual that represents the species is female (females aren't supposed to have sparkles, such a horrible design REEEEEEEEEE), but I feel like everyone forgets that the ENTIRE species is feminine and sparkly, not just the Nameless Light Fury. There are male Light Furies with these traits, which everyone conveniently forgets, and assumes the entire species is all female or something?
I've seen plenty of really good redesigns, but it makes me feel bad that so many people hate the species enough to change everything about them. They make the species more masculine, more bulky, more "big, scaly monster". They make the species look more like Night Furies, which makes me feel kinda weird. But regardless, I will always prefer the canon design over any redesign.
Blue, Wings of Fire: My first exposure to WoF was the Graphic Novel of The Dark Secret. I was like, "Woah! Dragons as the main POV characters! That's so cool! I've been waiting for this my whole life!" So, I eventually bought all five Graphic Novels, and checked out The Lost Continent from my local library, and I've been hooked ever since. I currently own the entire 3rd arc, the Winglets, and Darkstalker. I know the fandom probably hates the scavengers in the last book, but as long as dragons continue the be the main POV characters, I couldn't care less how involved they are. Plus, as long as you have two intelligent species in room together, they're eventually going to figure out how to communicate (it's inevitable).
SilkWings are my favorite WoF species. Flamesilk (or just spinning silk and weaving it into tapestries) is an awesome ability, and a very unique feature for a dragon species. I have this strange, prominent love for four winged dragons in general, but I do prefer SilkWings over HiveWings. The ability the cocoon oneself and emerge five days later with wings is a concept that.... interests me greatly. I wish I could grow wings too.
Red Dragon, OG Demon's Souls: I have very fond memories of watching my brother run through Boletaria 1-2, running from the red dragon on those bridges to get to the Tower Knight boss fight. Their roar is unforgettable, and it's makes me happy to hear it. I don't mind the Remake, but I very much prefer the OG Demon's Souls. It has a very wonderful, janky old game feel (DS2 also feels this way to me), and the OST can't be topped. Plus, it has the sexiest armor in any video game, the Fluted Knight Set.
Ryukotsusei, Inuyasha: The first time seeing an eastern dragon was at my cousin's place. She had a few seasons of Inuyasha, and a Sailor Moon movie (the one with the winged unicorn). Probably not the most appropriate thing for a little kid to be watching (I remember Kagome getting kidnapped by a demon and waking up naked in a bathtub), but for my first anime experience I had alot of fun. Definitely had a crush on Koga. I remember drawing a circle in my hand and pretending to suck up demons at school.
The One That Got Away: I read this dragon book in elementary school, and I've never been able to find it again. I've only read it once, and when I went back for it, I never found it again. It has been bothering me for YEARS that I've never been able to find this wonderful book again. So, if anyone has any idea what book I'm taking about, please, PLEASE, send me a message or send an ask with the title! Here's what I remember.
A dragon (maybe red) swooping down grabbing a sheep, with veins seen in its wings, a farmer watches as his sheep is taken away. A dragon hunting a herd of deer. A dragon in a cave, with words like "this dragon's wings are too tight/big for this cave, it'll have to find a new cave soon".
On the bottom are things that might represent or be connected with my godkin identity. I could explain each one, but I'm very tired, and I don't want to do that.
Thank you for making it to the bottom of this VERY long post! Enjoy your day!
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sweet--creature · 1 year
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i stare at the mirror in the bathroom, with wide eyes I know I couldn't possibly hate myself any more than I already do. the tap water keeps running as I debate washing my sins away. i can't do that. i can't close my eyes. I'm not able to close my eyes. the demons. they'd rush out. they'd tried to lock me inside. i can't close my eyes. why can't i close my eyes?
-aquamarine(me)
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waxfullwan · 7 months
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and when my sadness felt like red demons crawling out of my chest, he drove them away with such tenderness that reminded me of age-stained poetry pages, or walking through a garden of white hydrangeas.
//a.b.
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Balance
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I was trying to create balance,
No wonder it was a challenge,
I was choosing all the rights,
I was just trying to be white.
Although it was tiring,
My conscience was firing,
Doing all the virtues,
Was something like a painful curfew.
But one day I slacked,
And my efforts started to lack,
Surprisingly everything got easy,
Only my conscience was a bit squeasy.
But it was not hurting,
So i decided not to try diverting,
Soon the wrongs got too much,
Without even realizing good was lacking touch.
Vices took the hold,
Introspecting was now too bold.
Soon new strategy was needed,
Because my heart pleaded.
So i took a side stage,
Not acting to any rage,
But was it a vice or a virtue,
I was now ready for rescue.
Someone came and told that the answer in within,
Please open your heart’s bin.
I thought and overthought,
Was it the trouble where I got caught?
Did I choose vices to lose the hard work?
Was I not seeking good for the perk?
But who decides what is right and wrong?
Is there anyone that strong?
My heart had a single answer to these,
You can do as you please.
Till its not hurting anyone,
Not today, not tomorrow or ever in the long run.
Neither too much of virtues nor too much of vice,
You should have a bit of every slice,
You get to choose you,
You get to help the queue.
Balance is the only thing,
It will be hard and will even sting.
Still we need to fight,
And follow our path of light.
Vices and virtues don't get a say,
It is us with whom the decision stays.
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~ The Moth and the Lights of Sin City
Aromas alternated between intoxicated
and defecated,
the reflections diluted images into abstract artwork,
as flashing lights lured a moth devoid of understanding,
flashing, attracting, distracting, and overreacting,
the lights pull my soul through the eyes and I decay,
and as wings brought life closer and closer to destruction
the eyes grow larger and glow brighter and burn...
Extinguished by light...
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1introvertedsage · 4 months
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Bestia
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Bottom barrel - guess that’s your name. All ‘cause you refuse to play in their game. Revenge getting old - it’s quite lame. Can’t hold your head high with that shame.
A demon - you came here to tame. At times - you are one in the same. Glutton - for a kiss of false fame. Seeing that it’s you who’s to blame.
Faulted - guess that’s your middle name. A fool - for refusing the game. Sitting in the corner feeling lame. Poor you - oh no - what a shame.
Seeing the beast you came here to tame. At times you are one in the same. Forgetting a quick claim to fame. A pity - yourself you still blame.
One day - you will remember your name. A You - that can win at their game. Reality - the shit has been lame. Just walk away there is no shame.
The beast - wasn’t too hard to tame. Seeing you and the beast are the same. Struggles - feed into the fame. Misguided - minds are to blame.
~Introverted Sage~
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thetardycreative · 1 year
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I know who
I shudder in the coldness of light Blanketed by the warmth of darkness Demons protect every fibre of my being From folk like you, who wish to tear my soul apart with lies! Never has one lied to me, they’ve shown the deception of the light to me And never once did I falter to see, what the light had tried to change in me Never once did my love cave in and turned against my kindred…
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whoreshippingbooks · 10 months
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"Suffering and pain are always mandatory broad minds and deep hearts. Truly great people, it seems to me, should feel great sadness on this earth."
— Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment
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dramatic-dolphin · 2 months
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tumblr poems that keep appearing in my head unprompted:
among us babies infected with rabies
there once was a doctor named Freud
underwater temple, underwater monk
kneel, says the demon light with its eye of coal
he's creepy and he's crawling
i love abortion and i love divorce
who was the man who first salted the slug?
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moonlights-tears · 1 year
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The moon sent on a demons wing
These lips they soothe while they sing
In the night casting lucid shadows
Lurking from behind and see what follows
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sakkiichi · 9 months
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CASTLES CRUMBLING.
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Memories of you are both cathartic and painful when he visits your grave.
ft. Kaedehara Kazuha, Xiao, Scaramouche/Wanderer, Lyney, Neuvillette x gn! reader.
cw/genre: angst.
if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !
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✧ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA
Autumn. The time of year that brought warm memories to the wandering samurai despite its chilly winds.
Shades of scarlet coated Inazuma’s grassy plains, like a rain constituted by droplets of dawn light when the maple leaves swayed to the ground.
And amidst this scene, you.
You, who danced to the tune of the foliage floating in the breeze; you, who snuggled his red scarf closer around your neck when he wrapped it around you, taking in his sweet cinnamon-like scent; you, whose hand used to fit perfectly in his, as you ran your thumb over the scarred skin under his bandages.
Kazuha finds himself staring at those now. He remembers all too well how you used to wrap them around his hand. Your lips brushed over every indentation in his burnt skin, overwriting storms with sunlight and blue skies.
“All healed now.” You sing-sang, the tenderness of your kiss over the wrapped scars.
It feels empty now, his grasp, still searching for you every morning, but you’re out of reach.
Even now, as the wandering poet’s head rests against you, he can’t quite feel your touch.
“Hello, my dove.” He begins, fingers brushing over the dendrobiums surrounding you. Moondust lashes kiss his cheeks when the sunsets in his stare cloud over, the image of your smiling face behind his lids. “It’s already autumn, remember how you called it our season, my angel?” He softly says, turning his head slightly, so that his forehead partially leans on you. “The leaves are turning red already, I’ve picked some for you.” Kazuha utters, as he gently threads them around the stone.
Hard. Cold. So unlike the warmth you radiated. He sighs, opening his eyes, tender hearths to warm your paralyzed heart.
“I’ve been writing too…” Dampness pools around his lashes. “Haikus, poems, because I know you love them, hummingbird…” The samurai’s voice cracks, vision blurry, as he traces the letters of the name he used to breathe in between kisses.
Your name. The only one that will forever echo through his sweetest dreams, double edged now.
Droplets of molten moonlight slide down Kazuha’s cheeks, colliding with the earth separating you from the world.
“We will meet again, my dove.” He vows, kneeling on the grass, moist by his tears. “In some corner of the next life. I promise, love.”
As he stands up, retracing his steps, the wind picks up.
Kazuha clutches his red scarf closer to him.
Your scent still lingers.
✧ XIAO
Spring had never felt so cold.
The sun over Liyue’s mountains is too dull; the glaze lilies appear closed off; the days feel too long.
The conqueror of demons makes his way through Guili Plains, his steps slow, as if that would keep away a cruel reality that’s set in stone.
He’s coming to meet you, and yet he’s never felt so far away from you.
In the few steps that separate the yaksha from you, an infinity of memories and bittersweet dreams seem to wash over him. They mingle with the scent of morning dew over qingxins bloomed anew.
Qingxin. What he used to call you.
“Xiaooo!” You cooed, a smile sweeter than the treat you offered him alight on your lips. “Dessert’s ready, love.” You called, offering him the plate of delicious almond tofu.
It was always his favorite, especially the one made by you.
His cheeks took on a tint not unlike the lipstick marks you left on him when you felt like teasing him, peppering his face with your honeyed kisses. You always used to chuckle at the sight.
“Qingxin…” his voice quivered, in awe, gaze of gold widened, sparkly. “There is no need for you to go through this trouble for me…”
“Nonsense!” You cut him off, hands cradling his cheeks. “I love making your favorite food for you, baby.”
Now he brings one of his own scarred hands to his face.
It’s so cold in comparison to your comforting warmth.
Yet even colder is the grey hue of the heavy stone that comes into view: the one marking the spot where you were laid to rest for good.
Slowly, resigned to the inevitability of reality, the vigilant yaksha reaches you.
Even though he knows he will no longer have you.
Xiao’s whole form trembles when he leaves the handmade butterfly over your gravestone. Its petal wings are all crooked, his grip vice-like in his anguish.
Now the flower-made insect will never fly again. A crystal bubble, lit up on his darkest nights, inside which dreams warm and sweet were recounted, as long as the adeptus stayed in your embrace; now shattered, only sharp fragments left to pierce his heart.
“I’m sorry…” is all the demon conqueror can manage as greeting, the moment he sits before you, head hung low.
The karma he bears had never crushed him this badly.
✧ SCARAMOUCHE
Winter squalls leave nothing but ashes behind.
The layers of snow have started melting, decrepit twigs following, the aftermath of a furious gale, death in its wake.
The wanderer seems to verse in the bony hands of it often, after all. This life, this world… they only ever took from him, shattered mirrors as the only remains of promises to never come.
He rests the back of his head on the frigid stone. He doesn’t care about the last remains of snow seeping into his very crafted bones.
Scaramouche’s hand closes into a fist, dirt and melted ice on his skin.
“They took you away too…” The puppet breathes, inexistent puffs of his words sifting against the blackened skies in the cold. His indigo gaze is clouded over, despite stars littering every corner of the midnight above.
A lie.
Make believe. Like thinking he could be happy for once.
Turning around, Scaramouche presses his forehead against what’s left to symbolize you.
“Why?” He asks, teeth gritted, to stop the helpless quiver of his lip. “Why you too?”
The softness of your human embrace takes ahold of his memories, as you both lay beneath the endless firmament above.
“Have you ever wished upon a star, Kuni?” You asked, your warm fingers combing through the distant nights contained in his shiny locks.
“Pft, are you serious?” He used to retort, the mirrored galaxies of his stare coming into view as his eyelids opened.
“Very.” You stated, without stopping your movements, eyes never leaving the starfields above.
“Why?” He asked, focused on your profile, as if a part of him knew how ephemeral instants like this would become, committing to memory the only constellation that lit up his hollow heart.
“Because it’s nice, to hope, to believe in things… wouldn’t you agree?” You smiled down at him, tender hands cradling the coolness of his jawline.
“Huh, if you say so…”
“You know I’m right!” You chuckled, poking his cheek playfully, his nose scrunching up in feigned annoyance.
“Ugh, whatever.”
“Make a wish?” Your fingers found his in the night breeze, entwining together, the warmth of a small sun just for him.
“Fine…” He sighed, closing his eyes, lashes of concealed dreams leaning on his perfect cheekbones.
“I wished for forever with you.” He croaks out now.
An almost god brought to his knees by the treacherous fate written in devious stars.
His vision blurs, headed skyward, the universe above, a multitude of molten wildfires to him, raining down in flammable rain, his own tears the match to ignite them.
The failed god weeps. Winter burns.
✧ LYNEY
“You never know what can happen in the blink of an eye.”
Those were the words the magician once uttered, as your eyes lit up in wonder. He believes to recall it was a summer night, when his dusky gaze set on you for the first time.
Beaming and shining with excitement, you marveled at his sleight of hand, as the lumidouce bell on the performer’s hand vanished, only for its petals to have tinted in rosy shades of rainbow when the bloom next appeared in your hair.
If anyone had told Lyney, in that moment, that you’d end up putting his heart under spell, he wouldn’t have quite believed it.
But thinking back on it now, the time spent next to you certainly feels like mere seconds.
A peculiar figure sporting a top hat makes his way towards Fontaine’s graveyard.
His steps are monotone, the usual cheshire-like grin on his visage is nowhere to be seen, and in his hands, flowers abound.
Lumidouce bells.
The color of goodbyes, separations.
And the summer nights under which he used to kiss you.
“Please, Lyney! I want to see another one!” You begged, hands clasped together, eyes reflecting the last rays of the setting sun.
Your lover hums, his gaze, the backdrop against which the sunsets in your stare sparkled.
“Well, mon coeur,” the magician leaned forward, “I’ll have to charge you for it this time, you know.”
You pouted, marcotte colored lips irresistibly sweet, a bite of sugary peach in the heat of an early midsummer’s night.
“Close your eyes, my rose.” Lyney breathed, in the little dusk-lit millimeters separating you two.
“Okay.”
Warmth flooded around him the instant his lips enveloped yours, akin to fairy lights in the coziness of a familiar room, fiery arrows that linked two hearts. Your lover’s hands cupped your jawline, spells written in the caress of his gloved touch over your skin.
A new breed of magic, with the sun dipping behind the nation of hydro’s mountains to give the lovers privacy.
When he next opens his eyes, the allure has faded.
No trace of you remains, save for the emptiness and cold beside him.
And the only nightmare he can’t undo; your tombstone all too palpable, too real.
“You really never know how everything can change in the blink of an eye, huh?” Lyney utters, his voice raw, hoarse.
Despite the lumidouce bells’ petals shifting from dusk to dawn the moment he lays them to rest over you, the magician feels like he’s shooting arrows made of shadows; there’s no fiery beacon to light up this night.
The curtain closes when he steps away, rainbow roses bleeding and lonely in his wake.
The sun has set.
✧ NEUVILLETTE
Off-key birdsong and steely skies.
Those are Fontaine’s Chief Justice’s companions today.
Alone, he sits next to the ghost of someone he used to adore.
Someone he still loves.
Crystalline amethyst eyes scan the horizon. Even the seas seem turbulent today, relentless waves colliding against jutting rocks, as if by persistence alone they could cut through them.
The wailing ocean mirrors Neuvillette’s actions; as if by staring in the distance, he could somehow conjure you up back into the world, on forgotten dreams and pieces of flashbacks alone.
“It looks like it will rain soon, my dearest.” He softly says, the words lost in the monsoon overcasting the heavens.
Naturally, no answer follows, except for the agonized cry of a fallen sparrow.
The Iudex of Fontaine sighs. An upheaval in the blowing mistral combs through his hair, the sensation unlocking the pages of a diary once rose-colored, now only scattered petals over a lake that’s gone still for good.
“Isn’t the weather so nice lately, Neuvi?” You chirped, knees folded over the azure flowerbeds. Your hands were carded through your lover’s long locks, silver seafoam running almost hypnotizingly between your fingers.
Sunbeams glittered all around you when his eyes opened up to you, enigmas from the depths being laid bare for you alone.
“It is, darling…” He trailed off, one of his hands touching the side of your face, eliciting giggles from you.
Pink dusted over the pallor of his cheeks whenever you did that.
If only all days could be sunny, if only he could have kept the symphony of your laugh forever playing…
The sea’s surface turns charcoal, undulating with the low whistling of uprising gales.
Dark spots start appearing over the stone where your name’s been eternally put to sleep.
Beneath the blindfold, Justice mourns.
It’s raining again.
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