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dellartes-blog · 4 years
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🎃Abyssal Chicken: How intimidating do you think you are?
As myself? I don’t believe I’m all that intimidating, although I can make the effort if someone wants me to. 
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dellartes-blog · 4 years
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🍭Beholder: Do you want to be truly seen or do you only want to see other people?
I much prefer seeing others, watching them at a safe distance. Being noticed hardly does me any good, it seems.
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dellartes-blog · 4 years
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Halloween Ask Game
🍭Pumpkin: Are you loved?
👻Ghost: If you could haunt someone and know their every move, who would it be?
🎃Vampire: What gives you power?
🍭Cider: Sugar or murder?
👻Haunted: Do you think anyone’s following you right now?
🎃Witch: What insult makes your blood boil?
🍭Black Cat: Aw, look the shadow likes you. Do you prefer shadows or sunlight?
👻Graveyard: Are you afraid of your own death?
🎃Abyssal Chicken: How intimidating do you think you are?
🍭Zombie: So, how dead are you really?
👻Demon: What is one thing, if anything, that you would sell your soul to own?
🎃Bat: Would you rather sleep upside down or be able to scream and know where things are?
🍭Candy Apple: What is your favourite season?
👻Cauldron: If you could make one thing in fantastically perfect, what would you do?
🎃Corn Maze: Are you lost? In yourself? In the world? I think you’re lost.
🍭Werewolf: If you could rename the Moon, what would you call it?
👻Cemetery: Are you afraid of someone else dying?
🎃Shifter: If you could permanently change your shape to anything what would it be?
🍭Beholder: Do you want to be truly seen or do you only want to see other people?
👻Hell Hound: If you could domesticate any aberration or beastie which would you choose?
🎃Chilly Air: Do you prefer to be warm, cold, or decomposing?
🍭Sweaters: Do you long to be comfortable?
👻Hot Tea: What is your drink of choice?
🎃Ratsel: Have you really not figured it out yet?
🍭Cinnamon: I guess you haven’t. Best of luck!
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dellartes-blog · 4 years
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dellartes‌:
The impact of the strike twists her head, the sound reverberating through her skull. It was a familiar feeling, an old occupational hazard from her days as a mere servant - such outbursts from her masters would be par for the course. Staying still, Zanni takes a brief moment to gather her bearings. The proposition of hitting her back seemed tempting, though escalating matters further would do her more harm than good. Instead, she turns her gaze back to Pyrope, keeping her features impassive as she ignored the pink mark blossoming across her cheek. 
“I certainly hope you’re not planning on slapping me to death,” Zanni keeps her tone even, though a small smirk plays on her lips “And I’d rather you didn’t do that here, what with all these prying eyes around.” It was fascinating how quickly Pyrope’s anger would rise and fall, all previous pretence of calm gone. Yet there was still a part of her that was restrained, just what was stopping her from turning Zanni to ash where she stood? 
“I hope you make good on that threat, Pyrope, but know this, I will not make it easy, you know what I can do, and I suppose I have you to thank for such skills.” Despite the fear within her, Zanni can’t bring herself to turn down such a challenge. Maybe she could win against her, bury her along with her old ghosts that threatened to find her. Or maybe Pyrope would kill her. Reduce her to nothing, only to be forgotten by time.
A small part of her finds the latter option appealing. 
Zanni turns on her heel, making her way back to the streets of Myrefall, pace deliberately slow. Before reintegrating with the crowds, she stops, turning her head to call out to the woman who wanted her life. 
“If you ever do find me, do be sure to arm yourself with more than just empty threats. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good challenge.”
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Empty threats and angry words - Zanni was right to call her bluff. 
Myrefall was no place for her temper, albeit justified. A crowd of people would surely congregate, and she would be left with nothing but a shell of disgust in the wake of her actions. It was a poor decision to strike the young girl, to begin with, and she felt the regret hit her square in the chest. To lose herself so completely against a collection of calculated words spoke deeply about who she was beneath the frills of her dresses. It was clear to see why so many could laugh in her face in that devil of a city, instead of fear her as they did in Kaivras. 
Zanni spoke, she moved away from their slightly secluded area, and Pyrope could do nothing but watch her go. She wanted to reach out and take hold of the flesh covering her upper arm, to drag her back and pin her to a wall. To scream and snarl, and rip her to bits, but she couldn’t budge. Positioned like that, hand still stinging from where she had connected with her lost friend, Pyrope could only watch her elegant form move further and further away. Wishing she was there beside her, to drag her down to the pits of Hell where she belonged. 
Next time, she swore to herself, next time she would find her in the shadow of darkness. With bitter anger guiding her, she would tear Zanni down molecule by molecule, leave her nothing but ash and fear, and she would laugh. Joyously, for the first time in years. As though hurting the young girl was the only thing that could return a semblance of happiness to her icy core. Empty threats, dear girl, are nothing compared to what I have in store for you.
She stepped back, finally, and found her breath was hot and heavy. Zanni had disappeared into the crowd, lost in a sea of faces, just as it had happened last time around. And Pyrope, lonely and livid, decided to abandon her mission in Myrefall to instead stop for a nice, cold drink. 
FIN.
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dellartes-blog · 5 years
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pyrope-almandine‌:
“So much has changed since you abandoned us - since you ran from me.” Her words were guttural, each syllable merging into the next, and sharp in their punctuation. The sun of Kaivras had melted into her veins and it awoke through their conversation, burning her from the inside out, desperate to fuel. “But they’re still out there. And we may be apart now, but I’m not gone. I’ll return to them as promised.” They were words she didn’t need to speak, yet they fell from her tongue before she could stop them. Across from Zanni, she was Pyrope. Not the persona she had unsuccessfully fabricated and weaved within a city, but the genasi who thrived in a desert of anger and fear. And all she knew was that she had something to prove, now, as she was questioned.
“I wonder, will you even be able to hurt me yourself? You couldn’t even find me when you had the people to do so.”
It was as though the world was toppling around her, crushing her with the weight of the destruction, and leaving her nothing but a quivering mass of flesh and bone. A chill crept up her spine, a sense of dread crawled into her chest, and the sound of waves crashed against her ear drums. Suddenly she couldn’t hear, or see, or feel much of anything. There was only blind rage, and a moment of panic that what was about to happen would cause a scene. But Myrefall slipped away until it was just Zanni and herself among something dark and sinister, and she couldn’t control her actions. She was fearful and horrified on top of her anger, and together it triggered her fight or flight instincts.
A pink-tinged hand reached out and brought a stinging slap against the woman’s pale cheek.
And suddenly she was back in Myrefall, though the fury didn’t leave her. “You’re a disgusting, little animal. I should have never given you the light of day. I should have slaughtered you where you stood and had the entire clan watch. They would have loved that, they would have relished in the taste of your godforsaken fear!” Her voice rose, uncaring, the words clipped between gritting teeth. At this rate she would be back in Kaivras with a hung head, but her anger took her somewhere far away, somewhere untouchable. As far as she was concerned, she was in the right. 
“Hit me, girl. Show me how much you want to live. Because I will kill you the second I have a chance.”
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The impact of the strike twists her head, the sound reverberating through her skull. It was a familiar feeling, an old occupational hazard from her days as a mere servant - such outbursts from her masters would be par for the course. Staying still, Zanni takes a brief moment to gather her bearings. The proposition of hitting her back seemed tempting, though escalating matters further would do her more harm than good. Instead, she turns her gaze back to Pyrope, keeping her features impassive as she ignored the pink mark blossoming across her cheek. 
“I certainly hope you’re not planning on slapping me to death,” Zanni keeps her tone even, though a small smirk plays on her lips “And I’d rather you didn’t do that here, what with all these prying eyes around.” It was fascinating how quickly Pyrope’s anger would rise and fall, all previous pretence of calm gone. Yet there was still a part of her that was restrained, just what was stopping her from turning Zanni to ash where she stood? 
“I hope you make good on that threat, Pyrope, but know this, I will not make it easy, you know what I can do, and I suppose I have you to thank for such skills.” Despite the fear within her, Zanni can’t bring herself to turn down such a challenge. Maybe she could win against her, bury her along with her old ghosts that threatened to find her. Or maybe Pyrope would kill her. Reduce her to nothing, only to be forgotten by time.
A small part of her finds the latter option appealing. 
Zanni turns on her heel, making her way back to the streets of Myrefall, pace deliberately slow. Before reintegrating with the crowds, she stops, turning her head to call out to the woman who wanted her life. 
“If you ever do find me, do be sure to arm yourself with more than just empty threats. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good challenge.”
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dellartes-blog · 5 years
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Details of Vengence is Sworn, 1851, by Francesco Hayez (1791-1882)
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dellartes-blog · 5 years
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So I have a new favourite Dodie song guys
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dellartes-blog · 5 years
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Illustrations by Danish artist Kay Nielsen for what is known as his BOOK OF DEATH series. Circa 1910/11.
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dellartes-blog · 5 years
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1913 “In Powder and Crinoline” by Arthur Quiller-Couch. Art by Kay Nielsen (1886 – 1957). The Danish illustrator was popular in the early 20th century, during the “golden age of illustration.”
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dellartes-blog · 5 years
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Illustrations by Danish artist Kay Nielsen for his BOOK OF DEATH series. Circa 1911.
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dellartes-blog · 5 years
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Anna Pavlova’s ballet costume sketch
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dellartes-blog · 5 years
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moodboard (6/?) | innamorata
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dellartes-blog · 5 years
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pyrope-almandine‌:
Quicksand had no leader now that Pyrope was gone, and Zanni was the reason. After her young prodigy had disappeared without a trace, the fire genasi had been unable to groom another for the position. And it hadn’t mattered that Zanni never officially accepted a position, Pyrope had sworn she would convince her. She hadn’t given up regardless of answer. When she disappeared, Pyrope had starved herself, threw tantrums, terrorized her closest followers - and none of it had brought the closure of loss. It was as though her own child ripped itself from her breast, ran from her only motherly instinct, and left her alone in the desert. Even with a hundred people at her beck and call, she had felt isolated and desperate.
It wasn’t long afterwards the she set flame to her best friend, and thus decided to bend the knee. For a moment she wondered who was standing over Quicksand now. Whoever it was would certainly do a terrible job without her guidance, but she couldn’t leave until she had more information to give. The Queen would never accept anything less from her. 
All of that wasted time, all of that wasted energy, came rushing to the surface. Standing in Myrefall, staring at the woman who could have cost them everything, and she could have screamed if the sound would form. Instead she found herself shaking. Emotions she had bottled up seemed to be rolling back into the light, and the face of such normalcy across from her only seemed to make it worse. How could she be so unaffected when Pyrope herself felt like she was losing her mind? 
“A conflict of interests.” Pyrope laughed, cruel and uneasy. “The little group, as you put it, was the only good thing in your worthless life, and you know it. I was the only person who didn’t think you were a pathetic, little waste of space. I was the only person who would have ever offered you an entire kingdom. You could have been a queen. But you left without even giving me a reason. You betrayed all of us.” Her voice was low, but her words were punctuated by bursts of harsh syllables. The anger had crossed into fury.
“This meeting is by chance, kitten. I rarely even come to Myrefall. But this is the luckiest day of my life because now I get the chance to remind you why no one crosses me. Today I’ll give you a little warning but someday soon, when you’re out alone, I’ll show you.” She paused, a little tug of a smile coming to the corners of her lips. “It’s going to hurt.”
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It wasn’t the harsh insults that cut through Zanni’s defenses, nor was it the empty threats, it was the way Pyrope spoke. The presumptuous tone she harboured, as if she was the only person to have seen something in her, to have made an impact on her life - it was enough to make her see red. A long forgotten cold washes over her, a mixture of fear and anger stills her body. There is no street beneath her feet, no chattering civilians, no looming buildings; only Pyrope stood before her and the rage pulsing through her body. 
Had they not been in public, she would have hurled a knife right through that smug little mouth. 
“Us? Us? Just who is this ‘us’ you refer to, Pyrope?” she asks, face twisting into a sneer, “Surely you can’t mean your clan, for I see no one else here, and you are in no position to speak for them - to speak for anyone.” It takes great effort to not raise her voice, the last thing she needs is more unwanted attention. Just how many people were wasted in trying to find her? The idea of it was enough to make her laugh, all that power and yet she slipped right through their grasps - like the damn sand they thought so highly of.
“Oh Pyrope, poor, poor Pyrope, far from home with no power to speak of,” Zanni chides, manic grin pulling her face. Fuck courtesy. If it was a reaction Pyrope wanted, then Zanni will oblige, as she always did. It didn’t matter what brought her here, Zanni just wanted her gone. “I wonder, will you even be able to hurt me yourself? You couldn’t even find me when you had the people to do so.”
A shrill cackle leaves her, breathing now ragged as she feels the last of her patience slipping.
“Tell me, why wait? You have me cornered, just what is stopping you from acting on your threats?”
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dellartes-blog · 5 years
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Harlequinade, Albert Bloch, 1911
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dellartes-blog · 5 years
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A line of dancers, with Harlequin masks…
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dellartes-blog · 5 years
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https://www.instagram.com/p/BlkhL7vgMzi/
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dellartes-blog · 5 years
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moodboard (5/?) | columbina
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