One thing Tango was used to was the smell of metal and the smoke of the forges of the Grimlands.
Another thing that Tango was used to was Count Fwhip's rivalry with Solidarity, the Codfather.
(or: life smp members in empires au, tango meets jimmy for the first time)
hi solidaritek enjoyers, i have an offering
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“Hello, my Lady,” Ainara greets the statuette of a shrine on the side of the road, sitting on a box with a side open, with small offerings at its feet and a necklace of prayer beads wrapped around it, she gives a quick bow to it, “It has been a while, has it not? I don't need anything, I just… needed someone to talk to, and you seemed like my best option. If you can even hear me this way.”
“I should catch you up a bit on my life. I've been traveling some while, still with that centaur and triton, and things have been calm for the most part. No sign of the hunters for the last few months, I think I have managed to get them off my tracks for the time being… Nayven and Achos are a bit further ahead, trying to find a spot to set up camp in. But… That is not what I came to talk to you for.”
She sighs, sitting down to the height of the shrine, looking into her bag for her bottle and pouring a little bit of her water into the earth. “What would you do, what advice would you give me, hypothetically speaking, if I were to be in love? Of course, just a hypothetical train of thought, I would not be stupid enough to fall in love after, well, you know.”
Ainara hears the call of a swallow in the distance, “If you are listening to me, would you be laughing at me, my Lady? Fair enough, I probably do deserve it. The irony of my situation is not lost on me… running away from one royal to fall into the hands of another, falling for another royal.” She hears the swallow again, seeing it land on top of the shrine and stare at her, and she laughs to herself. Yep, Aeis is sure listening to her.
“I know love is more the domain of her goddess, not yours, but emotions sound close enough. I just… My Lady, what am I supposed to do? What is happening to me? I don't know what to do. I didn't know myself capable of this.” She fidgets with her ring, taking a deep breath, “My heart beats too fast, I feel too warm. I have never been one for touch but… I can't help but ache for it, when it is her…”
The bird chirps at her, in something that sounded almost like a question. “It is pitiful, is it not? That I was made into this mess by just a pretty face and some tea. A girl who showed kindness to a stranger who only knows to bring danger along her path. Love is too strong a word, but it is about as close as I can to describing what insanity she brought in me.”
Ainara's mind goes to Nayven. To her snowy white fur and hair, prim and proper and well taken care of, occasionally calling upon her to help. To her soft hands, which seem to only know how to be gentle, their touch always being light like a butterfly. To her pale skin, rosy at her cheeks and knuckles, too her lips, but it's not like Ainara would know that– she doesn't spend more time than she is willing to admit into wondering what their lips would feel like together, wondering if she tastes of that tea she loves so much.
She wonders, even if Nayven cared for her in the same way she did, would she still love her the same if she knew the truth? That the name of Ainara Boreas was lies, that she –unfortunately– had a fiance waiting for her back home and looking for her, that she was not a cleric of Aeis at all? If she truly knew how weak Ainara was, building fragile walls around herself made of half-truths?
Every rose has its thorns, Ainara knew that as a fact– she thought her heart was untouchable, but here she is. Love is for the fools, she used to think, but now she is not sure anymore.
She tried to build up walls around herself once she lost Hyacinth, she could not afford the idea of getting attached to someone and losing them again, but here is Nayven, who found a crack in her defenses and decided to chip away at them, intentionally or not.
Gods, someone help her.
The thorny vines that made up Ainara's defenses surely started to bloom, little flowers of white and blue, and for some reason she was okay with it.
The bird chirps at her again, pulling her out of her thoughts, “Alright, I will head to them again, I just… make no promises about approaching her with my emotions. They will fade on their own eventually, right?”
She gets up, giving a little bow to the shrine, “Thank you for listening, my Lady. I'll see you soon.”
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She sometimes butchered her chest open Just to make sure her heart was beating She plucked rainbows on rainy days And drives west of the driveway She picked lemons and squirted it’s drops into his nocuous eyes She lit candles and never flinched at the scalding wax on her skin She loathed dirt and shoved it into that liars disguise She bought ice creams to cure a cold She drew sunshine on a cloudy sky She started a pillow fight and ended up clearing the mess Her face turns into a swampland each time a kid smiles She hopes that stranger she meets at the bookshop likes poetry She dreams of aeroplanes creating trampolines out of clouds She builds bridges across that vacant face She is a firefly, do not switch on the lights She is a boulder, think twice before you kick She strips her veins and creates a harp She is an exaggeration of sorrow and epiphany of joy She looks at the her reflection in the mirror and hopes that her scars would magically fade away, But how can a warrior lose its armour? She sometimes climbs up the windmills And the blades shear her chest And her heart is still beating #literature #typewriterseries #poetrytribe #illogicalpoetryworld #poetryworld #poetrycommunity #poemsandquotes #galaxyofwriters
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- “THE DANCE” ***an excerpt from “The Fantasies of Florence Von Vernagrossen” an unfinished novel by her father Baron Von Vernagrossen*** ...I could neither tell wether it was my head or the room spinning. The dance drew me in, carried me off and stole my perspective from me. Intoxication filled me although I had never partook and a clarity of purpose emanated from within me. I must move. Energies I could scarce imagine let alone conjure came forth until it was I sharing my power with the sun that fuelled life itself and I gave it freely. #danceportrait #dancetheatre #littlehampton #lighthousephotography #pocket_beaches #waterscapephotography #darkmoodphotography #portraitvibes #lowcontrast #finartphotography #photocapture #galaxyofwriters #scriptwriters #novelists #igauthors #igreader (at Littlehampton) https://www.instagram.com/p/B0xjS9YHKzp/?igshid=1k3aluekdkgha
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when you’re not more than a songbird in a cage
stage fright, others’ wants in center stage
with my wings clipped until they bleed
it’s just awful, why can you not see?
feathers stained in red, my heart aches
like my fate is already written on a page
it’s suffocating, my own golden band
when my whole life is in another hands
the wind hums my name with a smile
safety or freedom, one is on the line
i’ve made my choice, i’m not looking back
good luck finding me, when loyalty cracks
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I can't even possibly imagine reaching this level of writing, without our conversations and discussions at KFC. Although we met after long gaps ranging from a months to more than a year, yet meeting you never felt like meeting any random person I came across online; rather meeting you felt like a rendezvous with a soulmate. You introduced me and made me explore, the art and artists that I would have explored never on my own. You took me by my hand, put me infront of Gulzar, Sahir Ludhianvi, John Lennon and me understand what I was devoid of all this time. And also there are your own works of art, which always keep me gasping for more. They make me wonder how you manage to put me in a space where I never find to describe what they really mean to me. I can't possibly thank you enough for this, especially for making me listen to Imagine, which has transformed into an anthem for me. And today on Valentine's Day, this is my open letter to you asking you, 'Will you marry me?' . . - The Obsolete Poet //Pinaki Acharya// . . I am doing a never ending series on people I care about, people who have moulded me, shaped me in to the person I am today. #PeopleWhoArentObsoleteToMe #writography #writer #obsolescence #ObsoleteDiaries #obsolete #poetry #writingcommunity #writersofinstagram #wordporn #writing #instapoet #igpoets #instagramwriters #poetrygram #poet #poetrycommunity #poetsofig #PoetsOfInstagram #poem #poetryinmotion #drunkpoetssociety #poetryisnotdead #galaxyofwriters #spilledink #creativewriting #words #art #quotes #quote (at Mumbai, India)
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