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#the azure portrait
aftanith · 8 months
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Vampire Knight Guilty E1-3, "Burden of Sinners ~Guilty~/Shukumei no Giruti/宿命の罪人達" & "The Eternal Promise ~Paradox~/Eien no Paradokkusu/永遠の約束" & "The Azure Portrait/Ruridama no Mirāju/瑠璃玉の肖像"
Today I'm covering the first three episodes of Vampire Knight: Guilty, aka Vampire Knight season two, and honestly? I don't think we're off to a great start. Here's hoping it gets better instead of worse.
Support the show on Patreon!
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stanford-photography · 7 months
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Portrait of Olena 02 By Jeff Stanford, 2023
Buy prints at: https://jeff-stanford.pixels.com/
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azurecake16 · 1 month
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Portrait practice inspired by someone I met waiting for the bus.
(Also if you wanna be tagged when i post art then just let me know either through rbs/dms/replies ok thanks!)
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azuresasha · 1 year
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𝕯𝖎𝕺
not happy with my work lately so will try to do  more studies
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panzsan · 1 year
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Long Island Portrait
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Been in a rut lately, needed to get back to drawing some cute ships!
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wallpapers4screen · 1 year
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Download wallpapers 4k, Dewey, Azur Lane, portrait, Japanese manga, Destroyer ship, Eagle Union, Azur Lane characters, Dewey character for desktop free
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fire-rose · 2 years
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The full canvas. I never draw on such massive (11inx8.5in) canvases. So it’s gonna be fun figuring out what brush sizes work for both my style and the eventual clean up and line art. If only mobile Photoshop wasn’t worse than regular Photoshop :V
At least I’m jamming out to some music, so it’s easier to tolerate using both versions of program until I finally graduate and lose the free account.
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weepingwidar · 5 months
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Linus Borgo (American, 1995) - It's the End of the World as We Know It, and I Feel Fine (Self Portrait with Elsina and the Azure Window) (2022))
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etherati · 10 months
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Belmont crest and colorrrrssss
I have a lot of thoughts and feels about the colors used in various versions of the Belmont crest in the netflix show, and how it fits into traditional heraldry. I have decided to make that everyone else's problem. So.
In Leon's portrait, we see him in a surcoat of white with the Belmont crest rendered in azure blue.
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In traditional heraldry the "white" component of this would be synonymous with the metal silver/argent, as matte white was not a meaningful color choice and all colors had to be combined with a metal (silver or gold) rather than another color. Now, I know that in the Doylesian sense, this color choice was made because of Leon's original character design, which utilized different tradition imagery and had nothing to do with the Belmonts specifically:
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But the text is what it is and the show gave us the first Belmont in an azure and argent version of the Belmon crest. Color meanings vary depending on your source, but azure typically referred to truth, loyalty, and unwavering morality. Morality is, of course, a construct--you can imagine that for the rebellious ex-church-knight Belmont it probably had some input from the bible but moreso was informed by his own oath--to "battle the night". Yeah, this gets made fun of--he's the dumbass who wants to fight an entire time of day--but we know what he means, ok. He's swearing to defend the daylight world against the things in the night that would harm it. He is defining his moral position going forward very specifically--he will uphold humanity and destroy that which would cause it harm. In a fic of mine he described it as representing the daylight sky, which given that he's a vampire in that fic carries even more poignancy, but even in the canon version it works, because that is the moral field he is aligning with.
Meanwhile argent/silver generally refers to purity, sincerity, and faith, which yeah, this is definitely a character who has purity of purpose. This combination of colors suits a vision of the Belmonts that served humanity unerringly, who had faith even when the church itself seemed flawed, who defined their morality by the divide between daylight and night and executed it with sincerity and dedication.
Fast forward to Trevor's time. The family has risen and fallen. At its height it was considered a great noble family--a warrior dynasty, as Alucard put it. Trevor's tunic and his armor both bear the crest in gold; once we're in the hold, we see that it's set against a deep burgundy in the official banners and standards. 
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Why the change? What does it mean? Red is obvious--it's the warrior side of them, the military might, the weight of generations of fighters and all the blood they've spilt. It's the most common color in heraldry because conflict and war were themselves so common, but the Belmonts (to our knowledge) weren't besieging neighboring Lords' territories. They defined themselves by their fight against the creatures of the night, defined themselves to the point that they became The Fight. The warrior is the largest part of their identity. In the same fic I had Trevor say that the red represented family to him, like bloodlines, which is not the traditional meaning--but given that nothing defined his family or his relationship with them as much as The Fight, I still think he was onto something. Additionally, red can carry the meaning of sacrifice and martyrdom, which also fucking fits, unfortunately.
As for the gold, usually this refers to faithfulness, nobility, constancy, and glory. On its own, it's a statement of those qualities--particularly nobility and faithfulness. Combined with warrior's red, the glory piece of it starts to assert itself. A family of martyrs and warriors, noble and glorious--that's how they saw themselves, anyway. The family had gotten so far up its own ass that it cared more about perpetuating those ideals and standards than it necessarily did about the original purpose and duty of its existence! Eventually Trevor re-finds that purpose, when he drops the cloak in Gresit and re-dedicates himself to protecting the people--but it's worth noting that the crest he displays in that moment is gold alone, without a specific colored field. The version of the Belmonts that defined themselves by the amount of blood they'd shed are dead and buried, their flags tattered; the one who survived has taken their steadfastness, their faithfulness and constancy and nobility, and managed to reconnect it to what they always should have been.
Which brings us full circle, back to Leon's portrait--because there's another crest, there.
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Azure and gold. All the steady dedication of a long standing nobility--much less fragile than one man's personal purity of purpose--applied to moral defense of humanity and the daylight world, rather than simply to fighting and glory for its own sake. There's a reason this is the color scheme I plan for Leon to end up in, in my fic-verse, and is the one that I think may have been in between the other two, chronologically. It conveys all the Belmonts are meant to be and do, without reducing them to simply violence. They fight, not for the fight's sake, but to protect the people they've sworn to protect.
Anyway. Yeah. Uh, colors!
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owl-bones · 3 days
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Hi! Soooo looking at that last post you reblogged... it got me looking through your vampire au tag. I absolutely LOVE IT! (and the concept of azure being a gaster blaster werewolf is making me feral. no pun intended) Would it be alright if I asked for some lore?
sure!! vampire au has been on my mind recently so this is very apt timing (✿◡‿◡)
(cw for discussions of blood and vampire biting and all that)
it's set in the 1880s, Ephialtes (Nightmare) is a centuries-old vampire lord of a manor that houses Bravo (Killer), Reuben (Horror), and Loess (Dust) who are also vampires. they overlook a lil town that they have a very tenuous truce with. they don't eat people, and the people supplies them with animals they can feed from.
Oneiros (Dream) is a daywalker vampire that lives in town and keeps a close eye on the manor to make sure they keep in line. he works with Azure (Blue, a werewolf)! they're best buddies hehe
things weren't always so chill between the town and the manor filled with vampires, hence the need for a truce, but things have been alright for the most part. the manor skeletons keep to themselves mostly, though Reuben and Bravo go into town for supplies (Reuben mostly) or to socialize (Bravo).
despite having a truce and not eating humans, Ephialtes is very comfortable with his nature as a "man-eating monster"; it's just easier living in peace with humanity than being hunted all the time. it's only a recent development, so there's plenty of stories of his days as a "proper" vampire lord and the terror he wrought. he's still very much that monster, too-- he can very easily slip back into acting cold and ruthless when he needs to be intimidating. it helps that he does genuinely enjoy the fear, as it's just as nourishing to him as blood (he does prefers human blood if he can get it). still, he's very hospitable and gentlemanly when he needs to be and enjoys the finer things in life, like art and music. he's very protective of his little rag-tag family he's put together over the years
vampires are made when a vampire's venom becomes too concentrated in the blood (or magic if you're a monster). this is done either by drinking a lot in one go so there's not much blood compared to the venom, or biting too often but not drinking much so it's a slower process. this makes a "vampire spawn" who's sort of under the control of whoever turned them. they're made a proper vampire if the vampire that turned them lets them consume their magic to finish the process.
the "plot" of the au is that Ephialtes hires a painter from the town to stay in the manor to make portraits of the skeletons to replace old ones, and naturally shenanigans occur (and they fall in love)
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katyahina · 8 months
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Ranni's two sisters (if not cousins?)
It is not just my thoughts, but more like three people discussing the ideas hahah. So, @swallowtail-ageha brought to me the idea that the name of the towers deeper in Caria Manor, The Three Sisters, could be not quite a fancy architecture name, but refer to actual sisters, given the description of Carian Filigreed Crest that we get from Iji:
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The way it is specified here that Ranni is Rennala's daughter makes it feel as though other princesses were not, so they could have instead been daughters of Rennala's siblings! I will get to the possible interpretations, but I just want to bring up something interesting that I think makes it even more likely that specifically TWO other princesses existed! When I heard the suggestion about there having BEEN three sisters, I instantly remembered this bit:
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Besides a 'normal' Mausoleum, in Liurnia, there are interesting two Mausoleums pretty close to each other geographically, that are unique compared to others! You probably remember them - they do not have a bell underneath but they can leap like frogs, they do not have any spirits around, and they can ONLY duplicate the ashes of the bosses that aren't shard-bearing demigods:
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^ Like that, same character (thanks @val-of-the-north for all these screenshots). And there are no other Mausoleums like that.
So, yeah, Ranni once having had two sisters would likely mean that they were not contenders for the throne, as there were no extra sits resorted for them in Leyendell. But this could be more than same fate as those demigods / shard bearers who "failed" Marika. Like, think about it! There are two Mausoleums in Liurnia, that still was a domain of Carians at some point, which behave "downgraded" compared to others, whereas normally Mausoleums are where fallen/failed demigods got buried:
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With how these Mausoleums are, it seems like people that are buried in them are not demigods / had no shard, yet still were important enough to earn a burial of this type? And like... would not that make sense if 'being important enough' was being related to the royal family?
I am not entirely sure why they would have no shards themselves? This is where variants really start to split! @swallowtail-ageha suggested that merely being Radagon's child was not all yet to be one, and I can see that! This is actually the full idea:
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^ These are ALSO very good points! These Mausoleums are for those who died during Night of the Black Knives, so I agree that whatever the reason for them to (very likely) lack shards is, they died that night too.
And back to the reasoning, me and @val-of-the-north were also discussing the potential ideas of either 'sisters' being actually cousins or Rennala being divorced twice, hah..
The cousins idea would defeat the purpose of the name Three Sisters, sort of, unless you could say it meant 'sisterhood' of princesses. The Japanese name is スリーシスターズ (Surīshisutāzu), like... you can already see that it is English name, simply English 'three sisters' written in Japanese with syllables, rather than Japanese words used. And in English language, sisters could mean not just literal! (Japanese script found in this ( x ) document). What works with it is not just description of Carian Filigreed Crest refering to Ranni being Rennala's daughter as the unique thing, but also Renalla herself showing unambigiously special feelings towards her! It is harder to say a lot about the idea that Rennala had someone before Radagon, it could have happened under pressure of having had a heir, and so the first divorce (or maybe even more likely, loss) did not break Rennala like Radagon leaving did, since she didn't love that previous person? It just leaves even more things to work with- not exactly a bad thing if you love writing many headcanons!
And as for these variants, it made both me and Val think of a guy that might have been relevant:
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On the portraits we see Rennala, Azur, Lusat, the conjoined twins guys, (very likely) Sellen and... this guy. Honestly? Could have been not actually a simp really devoted scholar in Raya Lucaria that delved deep into Moon stuff, but Rennala's brother! The royal family basically took over Raya Lucaria, and considering Moon worthy as much as the Stars was specifically what they brought into it! But Azur and Lusat, teachers of Sellen, have been very important already, since the former direction of the academy is connected to them. At the same time, their associated colors are turquoise and blue, whereas Twinsage crown features the same colors both, and Sellen... well, she knew Azur and Lusat, and has been around long enough to deeply resent how much academia has changed. All things considered, she was equally important to the twins before getting banished. The remaining guy behind Lazuli Conspectus sticks out in comparison... unless he tagged along WITH Rennala when she took over the academy!
And yeah, alternatively, he could have just been her previous husband, that was more just a tool under pressure of having heirs; she took over Raya Lucaria before marrying Radagon, and maybe something just happened with that guy, which did not effect her very much since she didn't feel anything for him. A little bad look though.. unless there was a plot twist of Radagon murdering the guy but it was one of the things wiped from collective consciousness with Celestial Dew, and that's why nobody seems to mind? Perception filter! I am not sure with which idea I agree more myself 🤔 But yeah, if the third person is involved, I'd say it had to be this guy - father of the other two "sisters"... Whether they'd be actually cousins or actually half-sisters.
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So yeah, these are the thoughts! Sorry that was probably a little chaotic, Elden Ring theories are totally not my forte compared with BB ones! It is just that Swallowtail activated my brainrot with that suggestion and I instantly had something to add to that, hahah;
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fantasyinvader · 2 months
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@yanderefairyangel
Yeah, that’s been a thing for a long time. Whenever it comes to Edelgard, some people want to make her out as this Christ-like figure while ignoring the stuff that says otherwise, such as:
Amyr, a weapon crafted specifically for her, bears the Crest of Maurice, also known as the Crest of the Beast. This would indicate that Edelgard is more of an anti-Christ figure than an actual savior. The fact she continuously lies to her supporters only furthers this, as well as how the weapon isn’t a Hero’s Relic. It’s a Crest Stone Weapon, one that requires Agarthanium in order to repair.
The Crest of Maurice is tied to the Devil Arcana in the Tarot, symbolizing allowing oneself to be corrupted and giving in to earthly desires. It usually depicts the demon Baphomet.
People are turned into Demonic Beasts as war assets for her army.
In Azure Moon, she takes her ideals to what is said to be their end point when she turns herself into a Demonic Beast. Said beast form has horns, boobs and Wings much like Baphomet is depicted with.
The fact Dimitri goes on to be given the title of SAVIOR King.
Or that the Agarthans live under the ground, fleeing there after their war against Sothis led to them scorching the Earth. This is coupled with the fact Sothis is tied to the heavens through the Japanese name of the Sword of the Creator, the Sword of the Heavenly Emperor.
The word nemesis means “adversary.” Satan also means “the adversary.”
Her route’s ending has a picture of her raising a variation of the Hand of Justice, a symbol of divine right to rule. However, the hand is a reflection of the real thing from France. It’s reversed, and not only that it’s in the same pose Baphomet’s raised hand usually is in.
The scene where Byleth and the Black Eagles pledge themselves to Edelgard is called Path of Thorns, a reference to the Bible indicating that it’s a path of sin (specifically sloth, indicating a failure to do some form of duty)
Edelgard is a demonically-coded character, but her supporters refuse to acknowledge that. Or if they do, they claim it’s so that he can subvert expectations and be the real hero in the end. They’ve also tried to claim that her ending portrait is an allusion to Washington Crossing the Delaware, and if you point it out that it’s based on Napoleon’s coronation picture as emperor of France they go with the most positive interpretation of Boney they can.-They’ll raise hell if someone calls Edelgard a fascist or compares her to the world’s angriest Charlie Chaplin impersonator, while claiming the Church are clearly inspired by said impersonator’s fan club.
The fact that the game’s developers called Edelgard a villain, which would mean that her actions or motives are meant to be seen as evil, flies over their head as they try to claim she’s just “an antagonist.”
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monasteryicons · 8 months
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Blue Madonna Icon
In this tender rendition of the traditional Marian portrait known in Byzantine iconography as "Sweet Kissing," iconographer Simeon Davis depicts a warm and luminous embrace between the All-Holy Virgin and her Divine Child, accenting this moment by the soft azure of the Virgin's robes and the golden decoration of Christ's clothes.
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whorrorbellee · 3 months
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Covenant: one
spawn!astarion x cazador's neice! tav
The fire had been violent, tearing and eating everything in its path,It gorged itself on your room, stuffing its fiery belly with your gowns and then for dessert it had enough room for your parents, and so you find your self in the cold palace, where sunlight is scarce and blood runs darker. But now Cazador can use you to play his game. Marrying you off to a powerful Nobel for his own evil bidding it's a pity that you lack charm in the act of seduction, if only there was someone to teach you. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.
based of an idea written by @thechaoticdruid
PLEASE READ: CONTENT WARNING: Im unsure of how graphic the content of this fic is going to get, but considering i'm writing about Cazador I assume the fit will get pretty violent also considering it is D&D so... If you’re not an adult, please leave. If you’re not okay with violence, this probably isn’t something you should read. if your incredibly squeamish with descriptions of violence and gore please leave.
Chapter one.
You had never flirted around with the idea of death.
Well properly, There had been no adventuring in dark dungeons, fighting in wars or even a bar fight. You had sat pretty and read in the family library, books of mere fairy tales like the sleepy dragon under wyrm's crossing,the druid wolf that gobbled up the young girl in the red cloak and vampires.Only rumours around baldur's gate until the missing posters had started piling up over notice boards all over the lower city,They had become more of a awaiting nightmare and you recall how your father had recounted the days walking home from the Tavern had been safe and now only 100 years later stumbling home drunk on ale would result in a fate far worse than death. Families had never recovered, not properly, not ever. Fore missing posters would remain littered all over the city.
And now you could understand why, flickering embers, crumbling white bricks now stained with black soot. The white marble floor covered in ash and black wooden beams broken from the ceiling,You were orphaned, left all alone.You stepped over broken glass in your riding boots. You wail. Knees Buckling and buried in dirt of your parents grave and home,their ashes now belonging to the air. Never to be seen again.
There was no evidence of ill intent from what started the fire, maybe a maid had slipped with a glass of whiskey, perhaps the sun had shone so brightly that day, resulting in a letter going up in flames from its purchase just beneath the azure stained glass windows. Maybe your mother had been prancing around with a flaming arrow just outside the house and heroically gone to save her beloved. The flaming fist’s had marked the fire as an accident and the death of your parents as an unfortunate incident. No bodies to bury. And now no money, no vault key or vault pass to be retrieved from the home. The fire had been violent, tearing and eating everything in its path, it gobbled up hungrily and grew and grew. Feasting upon wallpaper, jewels ,books and your beloved fairy tales. It gorged itself on your room, stuffing its fiery belly with your gowns and then for dessert it had enough room for your parents.
So you find yourself in the cold comfort of Szarr Palace, and as clean as the oak floors are kept .The smell of blood and vermin had not tired itself from the dark red curtains that covered the large windows painted white, there was no light filtering through out the halls of Szarr Palace unlike what you had known. Your uncle had welcomed you in with open arms, his long nails scratching at your bare arms in cruel demise as he pulled you in for a short hug, your mother and him had been close he had told you, showing you the family portrait, your mothers warmth encompassing the canvas.
“How old are you, girl?” Cazador sneers down at you, his ruby eyes grazing across your untouched face.
“I've just turned Twenty, Uncle” You reply, gentle eyes burning into the dark red carpet.
“Nearly an adult and you're not betrothed? Your father hadn't promised you to anyone?”He interrogates. Your eyes glassy as you gaze up at the sneering man who dominates the space above you, his hands clasped behind his back as he leans over you.
You shake your head. His eyes inspecting your features they run over the expanse of your cheeks and your hair, his pale hands grapes at your chin, your eyes widening as he pushes your head up at him to get a better look. “Yes you'll do well, pity you're so plain and meek” he scoffs in disdain, sharp nails catching at you neck as he lets his grip on you go, his hand flicks to the side of him.
“Take her to the west wing and prepare the bath, let's let our new dweller get settled in” he smiles at you, but his eyes do not smile back.
You notice a bead of blood trail from the nick he had left in the gold framed mirror moments later. Dalyria stifles at the door of the bathroom, nose flared and eyes wide. You wipe the blood with your handkerchief. As you wrestle with your corset.
“Im so sorry do you mind” you turn to her and she approaches wearily as you smile.
“Of course my lady.”
“Oh you don't have to call me that, please” you blush as your corset falls to the floor in front of you clanging on the marble floor.
“I'll take your handkerchief miss, get it clean for you” she smiles sweetly and you nod as you undress alone and retreat into your bath, you hear the door close behind her and your eyes flicker to the ceiling, wet fingers gripping on the ledge of the ceramic bath ,you pull yourself under the hot water and scream.
Dusk falls and you have found yourself wandering down the expanse halls at night with a candelabra to stare at the only image of your mother you had left,the door opens quietly and you hear hushed whispers and a pad of footprints lead up to the stairs, there's a giggle from someone. You pull yourself back into the curtains that hang from the door frame, eyes squinting in the dark as a white haired man tumbles up the stairs quietly, hand hand gripping another he turns and suddenly his face goes placid. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
Was there another guest staying at Szarr? And then there's a horrible crashing noise and a large thump. You spot the white haired man dragging an unsightly body, neck bent backwards , you blow your candle out quickly as you feel eyes upon you. You look and spot his gaze but he continues on as if he had never seen you,he carries the body further down the hallway and you stumble back to your room in horror you don't sleep that night mind plagued with the fear he will come back to catch you.
You had never flirted around with death, but it had grabbed your shoulder so tightly and promised it would be back one date to greet you as an old friend, you hoped it would return soon and collect its debt.
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gatheredfates · 3 months
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Alaice - Distraught
CONTENT WARNINGS: Alaice's story deals in dark/mature themes surrounding toxic relationships, domestic violence and my personal interpretation of a woman's place in Ishgardian high society. Please do not read/scroll now if you're under eighteen or if these topics are personally triggering. The abuse is primarily emotional/mental, but there is also a mention of martial rape. I choose to be transparent because I believe in tagging/warning were appropriate, but I'm firmly of the opinion people must be responsible for the kinds of media they choose to engage with. Curate your spaces appropriately.
when is a monster not a monster? oh, when you love it.
Tight fingers wove around a bunch of forget-me-nots, flecks of azure in the grey. Ahead, a weary band of onlookers watched the procession while the stony eyes of The Fury bored, an irony both in material and stare. It wasn’t the kind of wedding Alaice had envisioned for herself; a tiny gathering, a closed ceremony, the absence of her father on her arm.
'It would not do to wait for a spring wedding,' he explained on the first ask, and who was she to deny? The duties of her House weighed heavy since her parent's death (little more than babe, to loose them so quickly - what a tragedy!) and the tender promise of protection nursed to love as she confided to the handsome man now called her fiancé. He knew better, of course, master of his house for a ten-year, how to conduct her affairs in a most delicate manner. It would not bode well for her to attempt to navigate the bureaucracies on her own; the paperwork, the proprieties — she was ill prepared for it! No, he would care for it out of his adoration for her. She need only pledge her love for him and he would make it so.
Sensible. Pragmatic. It was no gayly court and gaggles of gossip, but she would be safe. Her mother had prepared her thusly before she died; the second-nature braid was originally by her hand. The spattering of snowberries and frosted evergreen haloed around her head only furthered the picturesque portrait of bridely innocence on her ascension to the altar.
Past the threshold of virtue. Out of the furnace and into the fire.
He looked at her and she swore to herself none of it mattered. Not the awkward assembly of acquaintances, the Halonic choir singing a chorus closer to a requiem, or the rush-job priest that better suited such a lament. The man on her left loosened his hold and relinquished her to her soon-to-be husband, as if he had any ownership over her in the first place.
Draeir smiled. His mouth were a gate of shiny white teeth, an ivory fortress where she loomed in enamel prisons lashed by his cold word. She smiled back so sweetly, barely containing her excitement, ignorant to the grip that was two ilms too tight on her fingers or the way he pulled her to him with contained force.
She stumbled. He caught her in turn. A moment's panic escaped her mouth, regained in an instant, and she apologised for her mistake.
"You won't do it again," he answered her, and she took it for gentility.
You will know better than to do it again.
The choir lolled into silence.
a beast can never unlearn its nature.
A posy of periwinkles decayed by the windowsill, overlooking the drab gardens flanked by an ever-constant pattering of snow. They had been a gift on his return, a placation for the girl resting chin-first by the ledge, and placed on the mantle to gather dust. That was how she felt most days, now — a painting, perhaps a statue at best. Something to revisit when he pleased, brushed down and realigned.
Sometimes, when he were being generous, he would trot her out to the crowds he entertained — watched with those hawk-like eyes how she curtsied and smiled at their jokes.
"Such a pretty thing, Draeir, how lucky you must be!" The women remarked, dripping poison from the corner of their lips to be bestowed upon their husbands who stared too long. She felt the uncomfortable flip in the pit of her stomach, intensified when they turned away to talk business and pleasure and his hand would seize hers from behind, pulling her to his side.
"Darling," he cooed, his voice dropping so low as to make the others believe they were merely conversing. Then came the hissed "Feeding their egotism is not your job."
Which did he want — her absence or her presence? If she kept to herself he'd stumble into their room wine-drunk and longing, clawing for her company and absconding her for her avoidance. If she stayed by him and submitted to his whims, a toe out of line spurred his ire.
"You are my WIFE." The specks of spittle were like stains on her skin, no matter how much she tried to wipe them off, and the desperate cries for his redemption could not strip the varnish from the bed that creaked from the weight of them. It hadn't occurred to her then to wish for them to crack; to fling them, body and bloody, to the floor.
It hadn't occurred to her to fight back.
How was this love when she was hysterical? How was this love when he looked at her with rage?
Draier grabbed her face and demanded her silence. He kissed her. He bit her. He tore her from the inside out, wringing her out like a crone's cloth, and left her in tatters at the bedside.
When she finally rose, barely registering what time had passed, she bundled the sheets dappled by blood and retrieved her clothes from the floor. She barely registered handing them to her maid, only that she asked they all be burned.
Rotting flowers on a mantle, elegantly framed. Holy work, the church claimed.
Tell me then, father, why I feel so unclean?
Is it nature or is it nurture?
In her dreams, her daughter wrapped her fingers around her throat.
"A sapling cannot be saved from the seed," She said, pretty lips spreading to a bloodied smile that poured down her chin to the spear of ice lodged between her breastbone. When Alaice screamed and tried to tear her hands away, Alyna only pressed her weight harder upon the weapon until she could no longer swallow the blood.
Her complexion. Her father's hair. Eyes of clear ice and steel grey looking at her vapidly. He looked like that when he died, too; the hard lines in his face smoothing to a eerie stillness as he slumped forward on the rime, steam rising from his rapidly cooling body.
She should have been horrified. Yet, when she dropped to her knees in front of him, all she could feel was relief.
Nature made him cruel. Nurture made her desperate. What would be the fate for their babe?
She woke the way a person stepped onto thin ice — cold and all at once. It was as if she suddenly remembered how to breathe, gulping down air instead of frozen water as her chest heaved and the blanket tangled around her legs was crisp and patched with snow.
To her left her daughter cried, but it was only on her third inhale that her mother registered it with fright and turned to scoop her up.
Alaice pressed her to her breast, icy cold. Alyna didn't seem to mind. In the stillness of the night, she was still a babe — not an apparition to be feared or an inevitability to supress.
"I can't tell you if evil is born or made," she recalled the witch telling her. They were alone one night, Elandervier having been coaxed by the promise of wine and relatively silent company. But, as she swirled the red in her hooked fingers, she sighed and looked to Alaice in full. Her mouth moved as if she wanted to say something. Instead, she busied herself with her cup.
She wondered what she might have said if she pressed. In truth, maybe it was better she didn't know at all.
Instead, she grounded herself with the feeling of her weight connecting with the wooden floorboards and the way her daughter wriggled in her arms. Alaice soothed her with a coo and a kiss to the crown of her head, straying to the window were dried lavender was plucked from the vase and offered as peacekeeping.
She had no way of knowing the horrors of the world. In this moment, she was safe.
That had to be good enough.
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author-of-all-sins · 5 months
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Beneath the azure sky, waves whispered secrets to the shore as the couple strolled hand in hand. The golden sun painted their silhouettes against the canvas of the horizon, capturing a timeless moment of love etched in the sands of their hearts.At the beach, where the golden sun kisses the horizon, two souls embrace amidst the symphony of crashing waves. Their laughter dances with the ocean breeze, as they create a canvas of memories in the sand. With each step hand in hand, their love writes a story of serenity and joy against the backdrop of the endless sea. In their shared gaze, reflections of an eternal bond shimmer like the glistening waters, painting a picture of affection that transcends time itself.Beneath the golden hues of the setting sun, their intertwined fingers traced the delicate poetry of shared dreams in the warm, grainy sand. Waves whispered secrets of eternity as their laughter danced like gentle ripples, echoing the symphony of a love written in every seashell's embrace. Together, they painted a masterpiece of bliss, their hearts synchronized to the rhythm of the endless tides.As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting hues of pink and gold across the sky, they walked hand in hand along the sandy shore. The rhythmic melody of the waves serenaded their hearts, and each step left imprints of their shared journey. In the tender embrace of the ocean breeze, they discovered a love as timeless as the ebb and flow of the tides, painting a portrait of a forever etched in the sands of their souls.
..it should be like this...
#me
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