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ascendingaeons · 2 months

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Hymn to Sekhmet

by Joey Rivers (ascendingaeons)

O Sekhmet, Great Eye of Ra, the First and the Last Healer and Destroyer, Mother and Daughter You Who accepted the Command of Ra, Your Father To cleanse the Two Lands of Isfet But Your nature was too mighty, Great of Strength as You Are Wanton and unrestrained, You ravaged Earth as a purifying flame And as Ra looked on and saw His Eye, He was stricken with pause By the Will of the Sun, Your Rage was quieted by a crimson brew And into transformative slumber You fell, Great Goddess And from Your great Rage, Het-Heru rose A new Eye was christened, of eros sublime And you, Great Mother, knew the sadness of regret

You, Great Goddess, know the measure of rage unbound And so You Stand, Great Mother of War, in defense and duty Of the Principles and Consequences of Ma’at Your Children are many, Great Lady of Life Diverse in their multitudes, empowered by their tribulation

Yours is the soldier, Your Mighty Sekhem made flesh and bone Entrenched in a maelstrom of fire and blood Returning home to a nation that does not understand him

Yours is the survivor, a living branch of Your burning Will triumphant Endeavoring to rise above the quagmire of loss and agony Through You their struggle is transmuted into the golden light of ka ascendant

Yours is the mother, she who knows sacrifice and sleepless nights A font unyielding of love and pride, of smiles and laughter perfected They who bear the weight of the world so a child can know childhood

Yours is the healer, an alchemist of the ontological persuasion He who is humbled by the frailty beholden to human experience He who ushers Your Sekhem through the riptide of transformative loss

Yours is the artist, through whose passions course Your Divine Fire Who walks the scales of inspiration and madness, knowing Creation unfiltered An alchemist versed in the milieus of perception

For You, Great Goddess, are the very Force of Change You are that which makes men tremble so Such an unnecessary fear, of wisdom and experience untouched Were I You, I would feel such sadness But how You smile, Great One! How You laugh! How You fight! You are not “she who cowers before Apep!” NO! You are the Great Lioness Who rends Chaos asunder! You fight and rage and bite and tear Passion and emotion alive and unrestrained!

You are Love, Great Goddess You are Fear, Great Goddess You are Devotion, Great Goddess You are Loss, Great Goddess You are Health, Great Goddess You are Sickness, Great Goddess This is why I call You the Mother of Life Your Ka is the very essence of experience! Your Sekhem is the very wind of change!

When I first called upon You, timid and unsure, I beheld Your Gaze, a window of fire open before my face And as quickly as You Saw me, You left And again when I called to You with offering of water and bread Exhausted by grief and devotion, tirelessly sung from a caregiver’s heart You came to me and my eyes were opened to You! As I lay without sleep, You stood at my bedside Stroking my back with strong hands of fire Whispering strength and courage into my ear As a sentinel You walked with me, a Mother Lioness guarding Her cub Such loyalty and tenderness You showed And my eyes were forever opened to Your nature

You are the very Force of Creation, the Monad of Being From which stems those primordial principalities Love and Fear, Physis and Logos, Known and Unknown Order and Disorder, Life and Death, Dynamism and Stasis

I offer henu to You, Great Goddess of Creation The endless potentiality and movement of the living cosmos The Fires Divine that Become living sinews and living earth

I offer henu to Your Husband Ptah, the Cosmic Smith Patron of artisans, of those who tirelessly toil In the pursuit of Bringing Into Being but a shard of the Sacred Unmanifest

I offer henu to Your Son, the Beautiful Nefertem The Ageless Lotus that rose from the Benben Stone The First Splendid Light to Shine in the churning Waters of Nun

It was You Who held my right hand as I accepted the mark of a healer And embraced me as a Mother would Her graduating son I offer You my pain, Great Goddess So that You may transmute it into Strength I offer You my fear, Great Goddess So that You may transmute it into Courage I offer You my uncertainty, Great Goddess So that You may transmute it into Wisdom

Into Your Belly I give of myself to unleash my greatest potential To burst from Your Bosom, shining and emboldened For there is nothing that is beyond Your Reach, Great Mother It is for me, now, to See that nothing is beyond my own

Dua Sekhmet! Dua Sekhmet! Dua Sekhmet!

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ome-magical-ramblings · 6 months

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Offerings and Salutations to the Teachers, Teachings, and Community.

This post is dedicated to my friend who's still in prison and will leave this month. I hope to file this post under the practical heading of my index as I see this a very necessary part in the practice itself. Respect and thanks to all the teachers and teachings I was given in my past lives, this life, and future lives. I am so grateful for that.

Let me start it practically and offer you the method. It's really simple and all you have to do is a candle and a glass of water. I don't recommend this for any teacher and only for teachers you know and trust wholeheartedly. I recommend you do this carefully and in case you don't have a teacher you trust then go up to the original founder or a divine figure you trust like Buddha, or Jesus, or someone like Lao-Tzu or Hermes Trismegistus.

Once you have the image of the teacher or their names or your connection to them then you will set up a candle, incense if possible sandalwood or frankincense or frankincense and myrrh AND a glass of water. Then you offer three prayers: 1) Thankgiving 2) Blessing 3) Offering

an example would be like "Thank you Hermes for the teachings of Hermeticism and for the magic you have taught me and inspired me with these techniques" or offer them Psalm 150. Blessing is that you bless the water, the candle, the frankincense in their names. Key of Solomon have stuff to consecrate them, you can also consecrate them by praying Psalm 23 on it, or something from your heart. Lastly the offering , is that you have to word it out and say "O Teacher of This tradition, Thank you for offering and continually supporting my practice by providing the teachings and the magical teachings for us."

edit: I almost forgot but the offering dispose of it under a tree and if you can't then you can flush it down.

Very simple and direct but you can expand on it :) to suits you. Do it often, do it on Wednesday or Sunday or Saturday and what there? there's an incense mix you can use to help with this 1/4th teaspoon Alum , 3 teaspoon of Mace, and a teaspoon of frankincense or benzoin then you make a sincere prayer for an incarnate teacher, finding a good teacher, etc. Now Theory wise or just me talking to you, my imprisoned friend used to do the buddha dhamma sangha vandana to motivate himself and inspire discipline in his practice and that's a good thing! this shows the important of the teacher, teaching, the community/magical chain working in the whole system of practice. Once your practice is a CHAIN then you have this line or this connection going through as arab or muslim call it "madad" which pushes the presence through the community. There's a really good point where you want the teachings to continue, to show you that you're grateful for it and to help the people who deserve it to reach it, no? When you dedicate time to help people reach the teaching then you also open the doors for yourself to reach higher places, it's not a one-way thing and just like we give thanksgiving to our ancestors for their help we also BLESS them and it is like a circle/spiral. We are not disconnected or living in a vacuum, the recluse in mountains or someone who we only hear of them after their death these people are making waves and changes around and stuff are happening!! So don't think that your prayers and incense and thanksgiving are not heard, THEY ARE HEARD. Put yourself out, have faith, and I believe that you will find the blessings and benefits of praying for the teaching we found, for keeping them, for having them "here" and for continual existence in our world. if you do want someone to help you, what are you bringing to the table? and this is a very good read that I recommend from Mark Stavish on Teachers and what you're bringing to the teacher:

EDIT

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sailforvalinor · 4 months

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Oh I forgot to mention but I’ve been thinking about how Ling says that when Ed is using alchemy it looks like he’s praying for days

#like. somewhat good religious commentary in my anime?? it’s more likely than you think #I am ready and willing to accept the interpretation that alchemy is the power of prayer 😂#fma brotherhood #fmab #fullmetal alchemist

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themysticbohemian · 1 year

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#spirituality #mystical #energy cleansing #aura cleansing #prayer #quotes #light #mysteries #esoteric #wisdom #alchemy

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northern-passage · 2 years

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oho, air you say? perhaps being able to remove the air from peoples lungs? or air pressure manipulation? maybe air based projectiles that can pierce, or air blades that can slash? or more general use, being able to fling shit around with air! Mini tornadoes or blasts of air that can knock people/things back!

i've used all of these so far 🤧 except for air pressure! that's a good one, i didn't think of that :-)

i'm trying really hard to make each path different from the other, including within the specializations, i actually have an entire document specifically for writing down potential combat moves for each specialty so i will be adding air pressure to the list.

it's definitely been... challenging writing it this way. there's only so many ways you can do this or that. but i think i've managed to keep it interesting across all choices, so it's not necessarily a direct copy-pasting of the same moves over and over again. i'm definitely expecting feedback once the update is published regarding the combat, since that was something i got a lot of criticism/feedback on previously when i first published the demo. it's definitely different this time and i hope yall will like the "new" combat, i feel like i'm more comfortable with it and actually know what direction i want to take it in.

#ive also watched an absurd amount of swordfighting videos/techniques now #my youtube definitely thinks i have a new hobby lmao #and tbh some variations DO still have the same moves #but slightly different.... lmfao #like the hunter is still always going to be the hunter and will always approach things similarly regardless #so i didn't want the differences to be super drastic necessarily #but i wanted there to be potential for replayability at least #both within specializations but also if u go from fire to alchemy i wanted it to be totally different #tho i have copy pasted a lot like. there's no other way to do it #each path still has the same foundation iykwim #but there are different outcomes and some specializations have disadvantages while others have advantages #and certain paths will have more consequences than others/different reactions from the companions #in the second half of the chapter #anyways. prayer circle i finish for a december update. LOL #ask #anonymous

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eohachu · 2 years

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just saw a theory for aos pt 2 and am sad now. 😔

#. prayer circle for everything but this #. someone said it looks like #. they're actually gonna turn the crown prince into a villain #. and i don't want that 😭😭#. like yeah i like angst but pls #. that's my emotional support ot3 #. the only way i can accept this if it's clear that he does it to protect jang uk 👀#alchemy of souls spoilers #r.txt

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deathleadsarc · 1 year

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WHAT FORM OF LOVE DO YOU EMBODY?

love as religion

[ love as the sole object of your reverence--nothing about you is holy, but maybe your love for another is ] when sappho said "in the crooks of your body i find my religion" and when the cast of les mis sang "to love another person is to see the face of God" and when halsey said "i found God, i found him in a lover" and when katherine philips wrote "to the dull angry world let's prove there's a religion in our love"

tagged by: @kasouu ( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀)

#you know. the concept of religion is really on equal sights with the theories of alchemy #even in her original FMA lore. religion was a huge talking point regarding alchemists and how their views of the world differed #so this? it makes a lot of sense #placing hands together for alchemy itself is like a prayer #to become god has relevance to the philosophers stone - i could go on

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davenusianastronaut · 3 months

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Lost in Time

Wow, I thought today was Saturday. I have been lost in space these last couple of days. I have been heavily meditating praying for peace in this situation. The people I escaped are still trying to destroy me using black magic. They won't leave me alone. I haven't posted on my main social medias because I am shadow banned. So no matter what I post and how much I post it doesn't see the light of day. So I have abandoned that page because that's where all my stalkers are anyway. I decided to keep it moving and just to start all over again with my 19 followers on IG. (@davenussuite btw lol)

I am going to be a prime example of what keeping the faith looks like and trusting in God does. I had no idea how many Satan worshipers existed until I discovered I, myself, was raised by Satan worshipers. This is why they are trying to destroy me. Luckily, God is with me and he is protecting me. I love God so deeply. I love the Divine. I love my Ancestors. I love my Spirit Guides. I love my Guardian Angels. I love the Universe. I love the Cosmos. They all play a part in my survival and my success and I give them all this credit.

Whenever you feel as if things are getting too tough. Prayer works.

#alchemy #journey to a new life #female hysteria #blog #femcel #metaphysics #magick #consciousness #sunday service #sunday sermon #prayer #spirituality #spiritual knowledge #mysticism #spiritual journey #spiritualism #intuition #spiritual awakening #spiritual disciplines

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diana-thyme · 1 year

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The Ultimate Grimoire Guide

So! I have been seeing a ton of grimoire ideas and thought I’d stuff them all together. A lot of ideas are from @manifestationsofasort, @banebite, and @pigeonflavouredcake. Check them out! They have a ton of cool stuff there.

What Do I Use For My Grimoire?

You can use anything for a grimoire! For a physical one, journals, binders, and notebooks are good. For digital ones, Notion, Tumblr, Docs, and even just your file folder are great.

Introduction

A Book Blessing

Table of Contents

About Me

Your Current Path

Your Personal Beliefs

Your Spiritual Journey

Superstitions

Past lives

Favorite Herbs/Crystals/Animals/Etc.

Natal Chart

Craft Name

How You Entered The Craft

Astrology Signs

Birthday Correspondences (birth tarot card, birth stone, etc.)

Goals

Safety

Fire Safety

What Not to Burn

Toxic Plants & Oils (to humans, plants, animals)

Crystals That Shouldn’t Be Put… (in sun, in water, etc.)

Things That Shouldn’t Be In Nature (glass, salt, etc.)

Potion Safety

How to Incorporate Blood in Spells

Smoke Safety

Wound Care

Biohazards

Core Concepts

Intention & How It Works

Directing Energy

Protection

Banishing

Cleansing

Binding

Charging

Shielding

Grounding

Centering

Visualization

Consecration/Blessing

Warding

Enchanting

Manifestation

Meditation

What Makes A Spell Work

Basic Spell Structure

What Not To Do In Spells

Disposing Spell Ingredients

Revitalizing Long Term Spells

How To Cast Spells

What To Put In Spells

Spell Mediums (jars, spoken, candle, sigils)

Spell Timing

Potion Bases

Differentiating Between Magick and Mundane

Common Terms

Common Symbols

Intuition

Elements

Basic Alchemy and Symbols

Ways To Break Spells

Laws and Philosophies

Correspondences

Herbs & Spices

Crystals & Rocks

Colors

Liquids & Drinks

Metals

Numbers

Tarot Cards

Elements

Trees & Woods

Flowers

Days

Months

Seasons

Moon Phases

Zodiacs

Planets

Incense

Teas

Essential Oils

Directions

Animals

Symbology

Bone Correspondences

Different Types of Water

Common Plants

Entities

Deities You Worship

Pantheons

Pantheons & Deities Closed to You

Common Offerings

Epithets

Mythos

Family

Worship vs Work

Prayers & Prayer Template

Altars

Deity Comms

Devotional Acts

Angels

Demons

Ancestors

Spirit Guides

Fae

Familiars

House, Animal, Plant, Etc. Spirits

Folklore Entities

Spirit Etiquette

Graveyard Etiquette

Boundaries

Communication Guide & Etiquette

Spirit Work Safety Guide

How Entities Appear To You

Circle Casting

Common Offerings

Altars

Servitors

Mythological Creatures (dragons, gorgons, etc.)

Utility Pages

Gazing Pages

Sigil Charging Station

Altar Pages

Intent Pages

Getaway Pages

Vision Boards

Dream Pages

Binding Page

Pendulum Board

Crystal Grid

Throwing Bones Page

Divination Pages

Mirror Gazing Page

Invocation Pages

Affirmation/Manifestation Pages

Spirit Board Page

Other Practices

Practices That Are Closed to You (Voodoo, Hoodoo, Santeria, Brujeria, Shamanism, Native Practices)

Wicca and Wiccan Paths

Satanism, Both Theistic and Non-Theistic

Deity Work

Religious Paths (Hellenism, Christianity, Kemeticism, etc.)

Animism

Types of Magic/Spells

Pop Culture Paganism/Magic

Tech Magic

Chaos Magic

Green Magic

Lunar Magic

Solar Magic

Sea Magic

Kitchen Magic

Ceremonial Magic

Hedge Magic

Death Magic

Gray Magic

Eclectic Magic

Elemental Magic

Fae Magic

Spirit Magic

Candle Magic

Crystal Magic

Herbalism

Glamours

Hexes

Jinxes

Curses

Weather Magic

Astral Magic

Shadow Work

Energy Work

Sigils

Art Magic

Knot Magic

Music Magic

Blood Magic

Bath Magic

Affirmations

Divination

Tarot Cards

Oracle Cards

Playing Cards

Card Spreads

Pendulum

Numerology

Scrying

Palmistry

Tasseography

Runes

Shufflemancy

Dice

Bibliomancy

Carromancy

Pyromancy

Psychic Abilities

Astrology

Auras

Lenormand

Sacred Geometry

Angel Numbers

Ornithomancy

Aeromancy

Aleuromancy

Axinomancy

Belomancy

Hydromancy

Lecanomancy

Necromancy

Oneiromancy

Onomancy

Oomancy

Phyllomancy

Psephomancy

Rhabdomancy

Xylomancy

Tools

Crystal grid

Candle grid

Charms

Talismans

Amulets

Taglocks

Wand

Broom

Athame

Boline

Cingulum

Stang

Bells

Drums

Staffs

Chalices

Cauldrons

Witches Ladder

Poppets

Holidays

Yule

Imbolc

Ostara

Beltane

Litha

Lammas

Mabon

Samhain

Esbats

Deity Specific Holidays

Religious Holidays (Christmas, Easter, Dionysia, etc.)

Celestial Events

Altars

Basics of Altars

Travel Altars

Deity Altars

Spirit Altars

Familiar Altars

Ancestor Altars

Self Altars

Working Altars

Self-Care

Burnout Prevention

Aromatherapy

Stress Management

Coping Mechanisms

Theories & History

Witchcraft history

Paganism

New Age Spirituality

Cultural Appropriation

Thelema

Conspiracy Theories

Cults

Satanic Panic

KJV

Witches in History

Cats in History

Transphobia in Witchcraft Circles

Queerness in Witchcraft Circles

Other

Recipes

How to Get Herbs

Foraging

Drying Herbs and Flowers

Chakras

Reiki

Witches Alphabet

Runic Alphabet

Guide to Gardening

Your Witch Tips

Resources

Other Tips

List of Spells

Cryptids and Their Lore

What is a Liminal Space?

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underdark-dreams · 3 months

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This fic will explore the fanon of Tiefling rut/heat cycles: specifically, what happens when a stressed, overworked, sexually pent-up wizard is confronted with his own biology and his feelings about a certain hero all at once?

Thank you @rolansrighthorn for kindly beta reading this chapter!

Rolan x afab!Tav

Birds and Bees - Ch.1

The new Master of Ramazith's Tower hasn't been feeling well. Rolan isn't quite sure what's wrong with himself, but when Tav arrives back in Baldur's Gate, things get much worse.

Tags: Tiefling Ruts, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 3.4k [Read on AO3]

Rolan awoke feeling sick as a dog.

He pulled his legs over the edge of the mattress with a wince. The dull ache in his muscles was something he hadn't felt since those first weeks on the road out of Elturel.

He'd slept like hells the past few days; no doubt that was the cause. Once again, bizarre nightmares had left him gasping awake before dawn, covered in a clammy sheen of perspiration.

The dreams featuring Tav, however…

Rolan’s tail shuddered and flicked over the bedsheets behind him at the memory. He pushed those thoughts forcefully from his head. Tav was due back in Baldur’s Gate today—that was the last thing he should be thinking of when she arrived at Sorcerous Sundries.

She’d been away for over a week this time, gathering her materials in the Underdark. He wondered if that meant she'd have enough work to keep her in the city for longer, too. The thought encouraged him enough to rise and dress for the day. He should make sure her alchemy station was prepped and ready for her at the back of the shop, at least.

Down on the main floor of Sorcerous Sundries, Rolan’s improved mood was instantly tested. Cal took in his face wide-eyed.

“You look awful.”

“And good morning to you,” Rolan responded irritably.

“Is it?” Cal trailed after him as he unlocked and threw open the wide front doors. “Rolan, maybe you need a day off. You look like you barely slept.”

“I'm fine,” Rolan said, voice firm. “Where’s Lia?”

Right as the words left him, a teacup appeared at his elbow.

“Had a feeling you might need it,” Lia told him. “Looks like I was right.”

Too tired to combat both his siblings at once this early in the day, Rolan accepted the tea with a begrudging sigh of thanks. The smell of bitter herbs hit his nose before he took the first sip.

“Doctoring me with folk remedies now?”

Lia waved a dismissive hand as she moved behind the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we all know you'd rather get fussed over by Tav. Can't have you dragging your tail and embarrassing us in front of her, though.”

Cal walked off with a snort.

Rolan shut his eyes and wished he could return straight back to bed. Instead, he drank his tea down in silence and said a prayer for an easy day of work.

He did find himself perking up after a while. It was difficult to stay sullen on such a glorious spring day; clear sunlight streamed generously through the high windows above, and the flow of customers milling into the shop settled into a pleasant, familiar hum. Rolan fell into the rhythm of assisting them here and there, locating scrolls and giving advice on spellwork.

It certainly wasn’t the prospect of seeing Tav again that was improving his mood so much. That’s what Rolan kept telling himself, at least.

Another breeze drifted in through the open atrium behind him, bringing with it the fresh scent of spring wildflowers. Rolan was taken with a sudden fancy to move closer to wherever it emanated from.

“Lovely morning, isn't it?”

Tav stood beaming at him from the doorway, despite the full-to-bursting pack slung over one of her shoulders. Clearly he wasn’t the only one affected by the irresistibly nice weather.

“It rather is,” Rolan agreed. Ignoring her usual protests, he unshouldered the bag from her with a tug; its weight made him question whether she’d stuffed it entirely with minerals.

“Ugh…thanks.” Tav stretched her arms back appreciatively. She was wearing a lightweight tunic, carelessly laced, and the motion strained the fabric over her chest.

Rolan averted his gaze, feeling rather warm all of a sudden. He instead led Tav back to her workstation near the stairs.

“Looks busy in here,” she remarked with approval. “Business good?”

“Can’t complain. I take it your travels were as successful?” He punctuated the comment by landing her pack on the desk with a heavy thump. Tav laughed.

“Brilliant, actually. I've got a lot to show you, if you can spare the time.”

“Just give me a few minutes,” he answered, turning back to her.

Tav didn’t reply right away; she was frowning at his face. “Rolan, are you ill? You look flushed—” And she reached a hand as if to feel his forehead.

“Of course not,” Rolan answered, a bit too swiftly. Casting for an excuse to create some distance, he moved to the nearby reference shelves and began shoving the mess of books back into their correct cubbies. “Cal, could you grab another stack of the beginner’s Weave series? We’ve sold through.”

Cal looked up from his work rolling scroll pages. “Er, sure…which wing is that again?”

“Nevermind,” Rolan sighed. “I’ll get them myself. Let me know if your station’s missing any supplies,” he added to Tav, letting his voice soften a bit. It earned him a dimpling smile.

Rolan strode away from her toward the portal, feeling that annoying ache in his legs return as he did.

—

Tav watched Rolan’s figure trudge up the staircase with another twinge of concern. Then she set to work connecting all the equipment on her alchemy station. Lia appeared at her side before long, asking after her week’s travels in the Underdark and catching her up on news and gossip from the Gate. It was so nice to have friends like Lia; ones you could pick up right where you left off with.

Tav had emptied her bag onto her desk and begun sorting the small mountain of herbs into separate piles as she listened. “How’s Rolan been doing with everything, really?”

Lia was turning over one of her shards of laculite, idly catching the sunlight in its facets. “Mostly happy. And stressed, and overextended. And completely neurotic about organizing every shelf in the library. You know, typical wizard stuff.”

“I just hope he’s looking after himself,” she said down to her work. The words left her mouth easier than she wished.

Lia leaned a hip against her desk with arms crossed. “You sound interested in helping with that.”

The quake in Tav’s stomach made her feel very caught out, then very stupid. She let out an exhale of laughter instead.

“Rolan’s made it pretty clear that he is not,” she replied. Her fingers began stripping the blooms from her pile of dried mugwort with more force than strictly necessary.

“Between you and me,” Lia mused, “I don’t think Rolan’s anywhere near clear on that subject. Smart people can be real idiots, you know.”

“Who can?”

Rolan was headed from the staircase with an armful of books; he stood behind Lia with a suspicious look. Tav immediately wondered how much he’d heard.

“Rich people,” Lia answered at once, still leaning casually against Tav’s desk. “Lady Whitburn’s handmaid keeps coming in asking for spell scrolls that I’m pretty sure don’t exist. You think she’d get the picture by now.”

Rolan let out a long-suffering sigh and held out the stack of volumes to her. “Take these. And just send Cal to help her next time, that’s why she keeps coming back.”

Lia threw up a hand as if that only proved her point. “Like I said, idiots.” But with one last glance at Tav, she grabbed the books and ferried them away to the front of Sorcerous Sundries.

For her part, Tav resumed the work of preparing the week’s ingredients—there were several large batches of antidote to get through this morning. Rolan took up his usual spot at the desk in her periphery.

Ever since the first week he’d offered Sorcerous Sundries to her as a home of operations for her alchemy, Tav found herself spending many hours at work beside Rolan like this. They spent the time talking about her travels, or his latest studies with the Weave, or just discussing the last books they’d read. On busier days, he was called away to help customers for most of her visit.

Today, however, Rolan stood unusually silent next to her.

“Sure you’re feeling all right?” She glanced at his back, again noting the tense line of his shoulders.

“Just a bit tired.” Rolan tipped open his massive record of the shop figures. “Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I could make you something for that, if you like.”

He gave a low huff of laughter as he took up his quill. “From what I hear from my customers, I’d be out cold for days.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help a grin of professional pride, but focused on adjusting the flame under her distilling glass. “Glad they’re selling well.”

“I can barely keep them on the shelves, especially those remedial draughts you make. The last batch lasted three days.”

Though it was satisfying to hear, Tav felt a bit chagrined. “Damn…won’t have more of those for a while. I still need to track down a new materials trader in the Gate. My usual guy moved on to Neverwinter.”

There was a short pause in their little corner, filled only with the sounds of softly bubbling liquid against glass.

“You know,” Rolan said without turning, “you’re welcome to stay here, if it’s easier for you. The guest room’s always empty. That is, so you wouldn’t have to travel across the city on top of finding your new contact.”

“Oh—” Tav tried hard not to read anything into his offer. “Actually, I already left my things with Danis and Bex. But thank you, Rolan,” she added.

Rolan coughed lightly, back still turned. “Of course.”

There was another pause, longer and strangely awkward. Tav suddenly found she needed something more to occupy her thoughts than watching a flask boil. Reaching down for her pack, she pulled her research journal up to the desk.

It had been many weeks since Rolan brought up that subject. Why now?

Cal and Lia constantly reminded her of the long-standing offer of a room in the Tower anytime she had need of it. For unspoken reasons, she’d always found polite ways of declining.

It wasn’t that Rolan had made her feel unwelcome in any way. After all, he’d opened up the expansive resources of Ramazith’s Tower to her use, lending her all of the delicate and expensive alchemy equipment that she’d never be able to cart back and forth in her travels. She owed much of her current success to his generosity.

But Rolan had proven himself a generous patron for all kinds of arcane arts as Master of Ramazith’s Tower. Really, what made her think she was any kind of special case?

The fact that she’d very much like to be that to him…well.

That was something Tav tried not to think about. It only led her to dangerous territory, such as staring at his hands while he worked a spell and wondering what else they might be good for. Hardly conducive to a friendly, professional relationship.

And if she was any good at reading signals, friendly but professional was how Rolan wanted to keep things.

Tav shuffled through her notes a bit too briskly and almost scattered them. That was enough dwelling on that subject; clearly, Rolan had plenty to think about without worrying about unwanted advances in his own home. The least she could do to repay his generosity would be to continue respecting his boundaries.

“Noblestalk propagation?”

She glanced over her shoulder. To her surprise, Rolan had moved closer to peer down at the top page in her hands with curiosity.

“Most valuable thing in the Underdark,” she told him. “Even more than mithril. Actually, this is what I wanted to show you—”

Noblestalk fetched a high price for its alchemical power, certainly, but also for its rarity. The delicate mushrooms were notoriously picky about where they grew; it was part of what made them so hard to find.

Truth be told, she’d been running a little experiment on them down in the Underdark over the past few months. She ran a finger across the charted results as she explained them to Rolan, whose tension seemed to vanish as he listened on with keen interest.

“Obviously the spores took faster in high humidity. But look, they actually did better when I transplanted them in a really cold spot near the river here—which is so odd, most fungi need a bit of warmth—

“Have you tried recreating these artificially? Carrying a sample back to the surface?”

“Not yet.” She scratched her chin in thought. “I’d need to find somewhere underground to propagate it. And I’d rather not spend any more time in the sewers, after that little cult business.”

“Just do it here,” Rolan dismissed, as if it was the plainly obvious solution. “We’ve got quite a few empty vaults now. Shouldn’t be too hard to repurpose one as a greenhouse of sorts.”

As she turned her head to respond, she was caught up short.

Rolan was still peering intently at her writing. But in his concentration, he’d angled his body very close beside her. His chest nearly brushed her shoulder. She could’ve counted the freckles dusting his nose.

When he reached forward to flip over the page, she felt his other hand actually rest on the far side of her waist—the absent way you might touch someone very familiar to you when moving past them. Heat rose in her cheeks at the gesture.

Perhaps Rolan felt her tense. He blinked, and she watched realization dart over his features. He stepped back at once.

“Apologies.” Then he cleared his throat to add—“Your work is quite engaging.”

Coming from him, the words sounded much nicer than they had a right to. She felt her flush deepening, and quickly turned back to reorder her notes.

“Thanks,” she laughed, praying it didn’t sound as awkward as it felt rising in her throat.

Behind her back, she heard Rolan return to his desk on her left. Presumably continuing his work on the Sundries inventory; more likely trying to ignore her obvious fluster.

She clenched her jaw in an attempt to shove that same stupid, fluttery feeling out of her stomach, and returned to the practical work at hand.

—

Rolan stared down at last week’s sales in his ledger. The figures were a blur of meaningless scribbles in front of his eyes.

Was he feverish? Seriously ill? There had to be a sound explanation for the way he’d just…laid hands on her like that, unthinking.

He clenched the guilty right hand responsible, feeling its sharp nails press crescent moons into his palm. Idiot. He took a deep breath to regain his composure.

It only caused that lovely wildflower scent from before to fill his lungs more completely, pulling at his other senses. Perhaps it was emanating from one of the many strange ingredients Tav was always carrying back from the Underdark. Was that what had muddled his mind this way?

He found himself glancing back over his shoulder to where she was bent over her alchemy scales. The pink tip of her tongue was visible between her teeth, a gesture she often made when concentrating.

As Rolan watched, a lock of her hair slipped forward over her shoulder. She swept it absently back behind her ear. The innocuous motion caused another wave of something floral to brush past his face, stronger this time.

“Are you wearing scent?”

Tav glanced up from the powder she was weighing out, brows raised in question. “What?”

“Nothing,” Rolan said swiftly, shaking himself back to rights a bit. He felt very lucky she seemed to have misheard. He turned back to his work before he could say anything else strange or embarrassing.

With effort, Rolan forced his attention back to the comforting logic of sums and figures.

The time passed with blessed uneventfulness after that. The soft sounds of glassware and bubbling liquids from Tav’s alchemy faded to an idle lull at the back of Rolan’s consciousness. Nevertheless, he pushed through the past month’s numbers with more difficulty than usual, scratching through multiple errors as his quill moved over the page. He occasionally had to pause to rub at an uncomfortable crick building in his neck.

A laugh came from behind him. “Do you mind?”

Rolan raised his head to look. Tav was gesturing at the corner of her alchemy station with a bemused expression.

To his own confusion, he found that his tail had traveled there of its own accord sometime in the past minutes. It lay coiled on the wood, its tip flicking back and forth in her direction, as if seeking her attention.

With another chuckle, Tav’s fingers closed around it and lightly dropped the appendage off the edge of her desk.

An involuntary sound caught in Rolan’s throat. The moment her hand connected with his skin, a shock of blood rushed to his groin. He nearly tipped forward in alarm at the feeling.

The rapid redirection left his legs wobbling and bloodless. His knees almost buckled under him; he gripped sharp claws into the edge of his wooden desk to steady himself.

As the ringing in his ears cleared, he heard Tav reading under her breath behind him while she ground something against her mortar. Praise the gods that whatever just happened to his body had escaped her notice.

“Need a book from the library—”

Without a backward glance, Rolan stumbled toward the stairs.

Spurred on by the knowledge that any customers who might notice his urgent departure would certainly see the reason for it, he strode on double-time for the portal. Only once the swirl of Weave closed behind him, depositing him in the quiet of the Tower, did he release the breath caught up in his lungs.

Seeking to ground himself, Rolan glanced up to watch the golden dust motes drift through a beam of sunlight. It was the strangest sensation to be standing completely still and feel a sweat break out over his brow.

How did he not realize days ago? Muscle aches—difficulty sleeping—heightened senses. All clear indicators that his biology had finally caught up with him, albeit a solid year later than it should have.

Rolan gripped a hand to the back of his head with a groan of realization. Not perfume—it had been Tav herself he kept catching scent of this morning. That sweet smell that practically made his mouth water to recall now was nothing but raw instinct laid bare.

Well, he had no right to complain about the timing. Apparently many frantic months of escaping the Hells, surviving on the road, and battling back an invasion from the Astral Plane had done a lot to delay the inevitable.

But inevitable it was, and as of today, very much inescapable. There was never really a convenient time for this sort of thing, was there?

It could be worse—as the new keeper of Ramazith’s Tower, at least he found himself with private quarters to retreat to for the entirety of it. If he was lucky, it would all be over in a week, and then he could go on ignoring this unfortunate side effect of his Infernal heritage for a few more uneventful years.

Lia and Cal could manage the shop for a week without any major calamities, surely?

As Rolan paced the silk carpets of the Tower floor, he forced his feverish mind to finish scrabbling together the plan. His gaze fell on the desk by the window. In the next second, he was putting shaking quill to parchment. Something simple, just enough they’d understand—

Bad week for visitors. Please mind the Sundries while I recover. Tell Tav

The tip of his quill skipped as he paused, letting a droplet of ink bleed into the page.

Tell Tav what, exactly? That he was in his room rutting his brains out like an animal in heat? Likely thinking of her while he did?

That line of thought brought a series of unhelpful and very stimulating images to mind. He swallowed down a humiliating sound as the stiffness between his legs grew painfully hard in reaction. Merciful, bloody hells.

Tell Tav nothing, he finished in a scrawl. Rolan folded the note and deposited it on the floor just in front of the portal, where it would be impossible for his siblings to miss.

Then he turned for the staircase to his bedroom, already mad to rip these chafing gods-damned robes off his skin.

#spicy #rolan x tav #tiefling ruts #eventual smut #bg3 rolan #female tav #heat/rut cycles #rebgrrl writes #underdark-dreams #bg3 fanfiction #tiefling biology

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pseudomonacarriea · 2 years

Note

💋💋💋An Aebun kiss for Kaeya too I guess--

It’s Sinday! Send 💋 to straight up kiss my muse! -- Accepting! -- @getofflikeagun

He'll pretend that he wasn't an added thought for the bun.

Accepts all the kisses she gives him, scratching under her chin as he holds her close. Seems like the Caelestite has become an animal handler as of late. But alas, none come can compare to the fluff of a rabbit, giving her a few kisses of his own.

>Kaeya has taken obtained one (1) Aebun!

#❅; kaeya: ic #getofflikeagun #∘Question #∘Alchemy Stars #❅; I'll always say your name like a prayer / You'll always be my ritual ( kaeya & aedre )

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hiraeth-sonder · 1 month

Text

Entangled Branches - Queqiao

Jingyuan x Reader

Courting is a matter that requires the utmost tact, though exceptions can be made when you're just that old

//I think this just turned into me dumping about ancient Chinese courting gifts. Poem is 秋夕 by 杜牧.

Holding a needle between your deft fingers, you embroider brilliant thread through the plain fabric, eyes focused on the prick of metal weaving in and out as the image of mandarin ducks slowly forms. One much more colourful than the other, thread of ochre and cerulean decorating the foremost bird’s feathers, the second adorned with milder shades of greys and sepias. Cyan lotus pads scattered around the two birds provide some sense of atmosphere, accompanied by scant petals, all that is left for you to do is to tidy up your ducks and add additional ripples of water.

A hand reaches to grab your scissors, snipping away the last remaining bits of orange thread that now finished the last duck. You mindlessly thread grey string through your needle, piercing through the white fabric to sew wavelets around your ducks. Your fingers ghost over each hill and ridge, feeling for imperfections that might snag. You are well aware that what you make does not have to be perfect, but your pride would not let you give someone anything less than your utmost.

It is perfect, more than perfect. You cannot help the tightness in your chest and the soft smile that creeps up your lips, thoughts not quite racing but on the verge of. Still, you must calm your thudding heart as your hands meticulously free your fabric from its wooden confines, spreading it smooth against the wooden table. Sunlight peaks through the window by your side, verdant leaves just visible behind the elaborate frame, illuminating your work properly, you take a moment to merely let your thoughts wander.

Spice sachets are by no means some modern gift to give your lover, perhaps more common in the days of your youth but surely not now. Back then, they were used as insect-repellent or air fresheners, some people also believed that they protected the wearer against evil spirits. Truthfully, he would have no need for it, but call you an old sentimental coot, you just could not help yourself from wanting to protect him, even in your own silly antiquated way.

Before the thought of actually sewing the pouch comes to mind, your head immediately jumps to the basket weave of herbs long sun-dried for use. It had taken a bit of time to get them, seeing as the alchemy commission was being quite nosey about their use and you had not the heart to tell them. So you did the next best thing and lied, citing that you needed them for cooking. Of course, it was only then that they lightened up, but that did not mean that you could not feel their stares as you scurried away.

The herbs, shrivelled and colours dulled, provide an ever so slightly scent that floated lightly through the air. A pleasant smell, one that relaxed without being excessively heady or strong. Though you had worried that such a gift would only worsen your lover’s sleeping habits, your concern for him won out in the end.

Still, you turn away from them to work on sewing the satchel together, far easier work compared to the actual momentous task of embroidery. It goes by much faster than you expect it to, with your mind drifting to familiar faces and that even more familiar emotion. Before you know it, the satchel has taken on the shape of a lotus pouch, drawstrings and all. You attach the beads onto the strings and all that is left to do is to place your herbs in. With a delicate hand, you slowly stuff them in, layering them as if anyone would even open the pouch.

Tugging on the drawstrings, you hold it to your chest for a moment, your eyes fluttering close and imbuing your prayers for him. To be safe and prosperous, able to do as he wishes without fear or shame, and most importantly for him, for his workload to decrease. A soft sigh escapes you, though it is not one of resignation or annoyance but rather fondness, horrid fondness.

You will find some way to slip this into his office, granted that would not be some hard act with how often he is not in. Still, there had to be some subtlety to your actions, you would ruin all the fun if you refrained from such. Of course, finishing one just means you will have to start the other. You could not possibly think of not making one for that disciple of his, especially when he just keeps getting himself in some kind of trouble.

You shake your head as a soft smile tugs at your lips. Truly, you must have been some saviour to be granted such people.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

银烛秋光冷画屏，轻罗小扇扑流萤。

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He holds up the wooden comb up to the light, keen eyes pouring over every aspect of the humble item. Dark wood carved into elegant depictions of verdant bamboo and a crane, the tines were slender yet sturdy, spaced perfectly to glide through hair. Before him were many more options of such, each comb’s design more elaborate than the last.

The thought of seeing any of them in your hand, fingers wrapped around the wood as you detangle your hair, works oils with that sweet scent that seems to always coax him closer, it sends a soft warmth to his limbs. He does not quite know how to explain it, a rather pitiful situation for someone known for his flattery and skillful words, but he finds that even when you are doing the most mundane things, he loves you just a little bit more. Perhaps others may call him love-addled in the head, but under soft moonlight, in nothing but your sleeping garments with your hair let down, he imagines that fond glint in your eyes and just cannot help himself but yearn to bear witness to such a sight for the rest of time.

The idea of gifting you a comb has been borne out of spontaneity, something he is not the most familiar with but still welcome. It had been custom for combs to be gifted between lovers, a desire to grow ‘old’ with said person, and he supposes that such a sentiment is rather difficult to continue on when long-lives and mara are two very common phenomena. It is rather silly, but a comb is a practical gift and he has always believed that if given the chance, if the two of you were merely two mortals, you would be happy to watch the wrinkles appear on each other’s face and for your hair to turn grey. You would still be beautiful, aged with the years spent together and the joy evident upon your visage, crow’s feet, smile lines and all.

When he returns to his senses, his hand has rested upon another comb. A lighter shade than the first, though the quality is still just as immaculate, the spaces between the tines are much larger, not as tightly packed as the last. Though arguably a lot less intricate than many of its predecessors, there seemed to be a certain charm to it, humble jasmine flowers carved onto the main body with a care that went far beyond ornate. The very engraving of each petal laden with care, ridge and valley of complete smoothness, the simple design far conveyed to him the vision of you than the rest.

He thumbs over the engraving, smiling to himself as he imagines you once more. Again that old image of you at your night-time routine, this time with this very comb in your hand as you call for him, your voice gentle along the night wind with the smell of sandalwood in the air. It really is foolish of him to keep musing, and yet no matter how many times he says it, he truly has been reduced to a languishing simpleton of a man when it comes to you.

“I shall take this one,” He hums, cradling the comb in one hand as he hands it to the seller.

The seller takes one look at it, a contemplative look appearing on their face before their brows furrow. Taking it into their own hands, they send him a complex look, not quite judgemental but surely urging, “Ah, this plain old thing? I’m certain that we have other combs you will certainly be much more interested in.”

A soft breath escapes him, mostly out of amusement than any negative sentiment. He only nods his head, reaffirming his desire for this specific comb out of the litany he was presented.

“Apologies, but I’m quite certain.”

When the seller notes his conviction, they just accept it. They must surely still be confused at his choice but he does not see why he must explain himself, after all, when it comes to someone such as you, even he cannot explain the manner in which even the simplest things remind him of you.

“I see, of course.”

The comb is promptly wrapped up in delicate paper and fastened with string, tied in a knot you will no doubt struggle with but will admire for all of five seconds. When it is brought back to his hands, he thanks the merchant and his chest grows warm.

A comb for his beloved, jasmines adorning your head, surely he must have been some great saviour in his past life to be able to have such a sight.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

天街夜色凉如水，坐看牵牛织女星。

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“General, would you perchance have the time to accept this lowly one’s gift?”

Your arrival to the seat of Divine Foresight has long been announced, a notion that Qingzu and the routine cloud knights were made aware of even before you could fathom planning your next visit. After all, when the general has come to expect your presence sliding in when everyone least expects it, you gain some perks.

“You and your formalities,” He laughs, his voice dear to your ears. Jingyuan’s eyes, framed by those long lashes, focus upon you. Seated at his desk with mounds of scrolls to look upon, though he would usually be more than happy to be dozing off right this very moment, the energy at which he responds only boosts your excitement, “Of course I do, I’ll always have time if it's you.”

“Old sap.” Shaking your head, you can only let that fond smile appear across your face as you make your way to his desk.

It is by no means an arduous journey, and it is not long before you are granted a full view of a certain someone’s rather smug face, almost feline-like if you will. Furthermore, you suppose you also should have expected that he would pull you closer towards him, his head all but resting on yours if not for the fact that you still needed to give him something. Still, you ignore the way your breath hitches for just a moment, the familiar scent of sandalwood and tea that clings to his form drifting to your nose and coaxing you to relax, instead you reach for the spice sachet and place it in his waiting hands.

He accepts it readily, and it is by the slight widening of his eyes that you know he recognises exactly what you have made for him. After all, it is not like spice sachets are commonplace in this day and age.

“See, I’ve made it so you can attach it to your belt,” Your voice is low, your head leaning against his shoulder as you fiddle with the strings. You can feel his breath fanning against you, his much larger frame a steady pillar“And it's not too long so it won’t get in your way.”

He is quiet for a moment, admiring the pouch as he turns it over and finds new details to marvel upon. Then, he speaks, voice low and teasing,“My dear, are you saying your beloved stinks?”

“No, I'm saying the air around you stinks.” Huffing, you nudge him with your elbow, a notion that he also clearly finds amusing, as he makes an over-exaggerated ‘oof’ to your light tap.

Jingyuan only laughs at that comment, wrapping an arm around you so that you may be closer to one another. Still, he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, a doting smile on his lips. He whispers, “Thank you for the gift, I’m certain your blessings will keep me safe.”

“You better, if I have to find out from Qingzu that you got some grievous injury again I think I’ll be the one going mara-struck instead.”

“Oh then whatever shall I do? I suppose I can only trouble my dear wife to take care of me so that I won’t end up in the healers again.”

At that, you barely resist the urge to butt him with your head, another overfond sound escaping his lips, sounding more like sweet birdsong to your ears that you may hear his amusement and joy so clearly. Though, it is not long until you notice the weight in your lap, some object wrapped in paper and bound in string. When you meet his gaze, he only gestures for you to open it, golden eyes glinting with some indulgent sentiment. You do so, fussing with the knot but eventually unwrapping the paper to reveal a simple wooden comb, jasmines carved onto its body.

The breath in your lungs seems to escape you, for your words get carded in your throat and all you can muster is a pathetic, “You…”

“You old coot, getting me a comb,” You chuckle, an attempt to hide how choked up you were. “We’ve already spent so many years together and you….”

Jingyuan looks to you, and you are certain that if a mirror were to be brought to both of your faces right this very moment, what would be found would be merely two senior citizens playing at youth. Though, with the many hardships that the centuries have put you through, you cannot quite say that you quite mind this kind of childish tomfoolery. Why else would you call upon childhood sentiments? Why else would he choose such a gift?

Holding up a hand to cradle his face, he leans into your touch, those soulful eyes once again meeting yours. There is such a profound affection within them that for a while, it scared you. Yet now, being the one most privy to such a sight, those eyes who hold the sun and make you yearn to protect him, it comes to you as natural as breathing.

“What do you say, my dear?” He offers, cocking his head to the side as those mellow words sink in.

You can only shake your head, an overly indulgent quirk of your lips pulls your lover closer. It is not the first kiss you shared, and it is certainly not the last, for there will be a long, long time before one of you meets your ends.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan #jingyuan x reader

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ome-magical-ramblings · 8 months

Text

In memory of: Dr Leon Wright

Another Obscure person of interest, Dr Leon Wright, PhD., Professor of Religion is a very interesting person and down to earth person that we don't have a lot remaining of his techniques or teachings. Dr. Wright was the first person Saygyi U Ba Khin authorized to teach meditation outside of Myanmar. The letter was presented to him in a public ceremony at the Myanmar Embassy in Washington, DC, given by the Myanmar Ambassador. The book also states that Dr. Wright shared an account of preaching meditation to 10,000 people – college men and women, and Congregational ministers like himself– over a period of 3-years.

Dr. Wright practiced a breathing technique the entire two years he was in Burma. At one point midway through his stay there, he opened his eyes while doing the technique and could see fire coming out of his feet. Near the end of his stay there, he had a deep meditation in which the hand of Christ appeared to him and gave him a yellow rose. At his last meditation at the monastery, the Head Abbot called the assembly together, and made the following statement: "We must honor this man, Dr. Leon Wright, who has been among us and is now departing. He has made more spiritual progress here than 1 in 10,000 monks makes in an entire lifetime."

I hope That this writing isn't here just as a baseless advertisement to his breathing technique, the man passed on 1996 so he's not getting anything out of this. Just such a great figure put forth this technique he learned and poured his soul and effort into helping people learning the Bible and about Christ, the out-pouring love of Divinity coming out of this guy. In the end I want to say that I feel deep and honest respect Dr Wright, and I offer thanksgiving toward God in his name that I was able to learn his breathing technique. If you can't pay for it, contact me I will pay for it or share my recording of it for you. I hope that Dr Wright's work doesn't die out and I hope that people benefit from it. Amen. I Will add my own experience: Everyone have their own experience with his cleaning out technique and I hope that people appreciate and feel motivated by my writing of this technique. My hand and feet started having tremors, I felt heavy breathing, my back was sweating while my front of body was cold, I pray to be cleaned and I was cleaned and during the last part of the breathing I felt this sense of elevation, serene, tranquility, Xi, etc. it was extremely refreshing like swimming in the sea, the body felt light, my heart felt light, the mind was silent, and I felt my whole body "cleaned" in and out and a gentle serene dawned on me. Touched by the spirit of divinity, I am thankful and grateful <3 :)

#prayer #meditation #invocation #christ #jesus christ #christianity #occult #witchblr #Mysticism #Theurgy #Hermeticism #alchemy #Yoga #Yogic

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head-in-the-shrouds · 5 months

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366 Prompts For 2024:

One word prompts for 2024 (all 12 months) and some alternatives. These are mostly horror / fantasy aimed.

January (31):

Behold

Justice

Oak

Weave

Hook

Waggon

Torch

Jinx

Prey

Must

Lit

Keep

Vanquish

Yarrow

Intended

Tomb

Marsh

Leather

Blanket

Kin

Lordling

Promises

Heath

Rot

West

Under

Sworn

Rusted

Transformation

Quest

Pond

February (29):

Midwinter

Oath

Croak

Blush

Nimble

Malady

Deal

Roots

Willow

Orders

Moss

Lantern

Portent

Lovelock

Mourning

Horned

Keys

Earn

Remedy

Bog

Yearning

Lace

Trunk

Coiled

Linger

Soothsayer

Revenge

Oleander

Revered

March (31):

Metal

Pride

Gunpowder

Inheritance

Master

Brandish

Enchanted

Path

Sacrifice

Tailor

Crypt

Remain

Toad

Understanding

Legacy

Archway

Mirror

Omen

Home

Fur

Dust

Bow

Necklace

Sly

Permanent

Grin

Aim

Nest

Hex

Church

Valour

April (30):

Masonry

Inquiry

Ledge

Years

Hospitality

Clay

Priestess

Sunken

Lavender

Trust

Waters

Guilt

Dusk

Protection

Musket

Castle

Flee

Ancient

Value

Charm

Fever

Penance

Silk

Foxhole

Ornament

Tradition

Meld

Hare

Well

Pest

May (31):

Moonrise

Sea

Wander

Absolution

Bark

Ridge

Crackle

Sacred

Bind

Frozen

Thatch

Naming

Elder

Wealth

Dappled

Reading

Father

Cathedral

Tent

Grey

Payment

Enshrine

Tales

Velvet

Cell

Guide

Dawn

Mines

Riddle

Falling

Clock

June (30):

Vixen

Stolen

Worth

Tar

Alchemy

Fickle

Barrell

Harrow

Pyre

Chest

Worship

Steps

Armoury

Tear

Den

Ladder

Ruins

Bargain

Snake-leaves

Corn-doll

Garnet

Eccentric

Telescope

Antler

Stone

Break

Laden

Tower

Chain

Rook

July (31):

Masquerade

Pines

Mother

Herbs

Limb

Prize

Rescue

Scales

Melody

Shore

Tempest

Appease

Queen

Hermit

Separated

Bear

Righteous

Chimney

Storm

Manipulate

Boots

Apple

Rings

Crafted

Trail

Bleak

Dear-heart

Sanctify

Feast

Gathering

Door

August (31):

Luck

Display

Greed

Autumn

Found

Wildfire

Sleep

Grandfather

Watch

Hidden

Lookalike

Whimsey

Thicket

Runes

Horseshoe

Smoke

Awaken

Gargoyle

Wig

Poison

Thousand-fur

Shatter

Barrow

Tempt

Flag

Mercy

Web

Beast

Candle

Hunt

Serpent

September (30):

Belladonna

Magician

Birch

Reflection

Sight

Elaborate

Captive

Rope

Glass

Decades

Blade

Sorrow

Finickity

Carving

Stag

Fairy-tale

Spark

Blackthorn

Mountain

Century

Fury

Question

Claws

Fangs

Decay

Gift

Shipwreck

Blessed

Harvest

Crown

October (31):

Troll

Vines

Scattered

Prayer

Hatchet

Coat

Fireside

Grim

Sealed

Walled

Healing

Cobbled

Secure

Forest

Blind

Constellation

Shroud

Regal

Helm

Shadowed

Ward

Sinking

Hills

Goldsmith

Silver

Entwining

Soldier

Courtship

Guest

Defy

Crone

November (30):

Bones

Fear

Talisman

Song

Witness

Cloak

Plague

Hearth

Returned

Testament

Ceremonial

Yearning

Written

Silhouette

Gilded

Boundary

Hunger

Stranger

Fiend

Dungeon

Huntsman

Want

Birdsong

Wish

Hierophant

Favour

Dreaming

Coal

Brother

Fields

December (31):

Bottles

Curse

Horizon

Supplies

Wallowing

Hodge-podge

Thorns

Wisdom

Trinket

Warmth

Timber

Honest

Ritual

Welcome

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m1d-45 · 2 years

Text

remorse

-> warnings: spoilers for kazuha story quest as well as general kazuha lore, kazuha’s friend is named tomo for convenience, mention of blood near the end, kazuha attacks you but it’s a brief memory, standard issue imposter sagau things

-> lowercase intended!

tomo was an avid believer in the creator.

most people are to an extent, kazuha included, but it’s more of a soft reverence for him rather than the burning devotion for tomo, whose belief is that the creator didn’t make inazuma for it to be hidden! they didn’t make the shogun for her to do this to her nation!

that combined with his other beliefs sent him to face her. ever a man of faith, he held firm that he was doing the right thing. even as his body fell to the floor and his vision flew into the awaiting grasp of his friend, his heart stood strong.

kazuha carries that faith with his memory, and does his best to honor it just as well. if he finds a pretty flower he’ll drop it at a shrine, always murmuring his friend’s name as he does so. he doesn’t hold you to as high a bar as other do, as high as tomo did, but it’s hard not to be religious in teyvat, where the gods literally walk the earth. he settles for a quiet reverence, and perhaps a prayer that his friend may find peace at your side when the storm winds howl and lightning strikes close.

and then beidou.

who thanks you daily for calm seas, for large hauls, thanks for the life created for her anew.

and he thinks. and thinks a bit more, and decides that well, his life has been remade too, hasn’t it? and like beidou says, he’s a poet, he’s been gifted with a form of creation, hasn’t he? so he starts leaving more than a few folded poems at the on-ship shrine—it’s kept in the back, a little tucked away both for safety and in case the crew has problems with religion or just doesn’t follow, but that just makes it all the easier to slip things onto it.

and he thinks that maybe tomo had the right idea.

so when he hears of an impersonator, somebody who utilizes both magic and their mind to take the place of the highest of gods…. he’s more than upset.

how dare you? how dare you try to take the place of his god- if the entire of teyvat’s god? how dare you try and swindle your way to the top, try to trick and scheme and deceive the innocent beleivers into serving you instead of the creator you fail to even imitate? he hasn’t even met you and he knows that you’re a stale copy, a fragile semblance even with your spells and alchemy, a careful house of cards that he longs to topple.

the alcor is docked in liyue, waiting for a shipment. he’s sitting on an empty crate while beidou leans on it, groaning about the merchant.

”come on! we’re gonna be late, and he had a week to prepare! who is this guy, even, thinking he can do shit like that?”

he’s about to speak—likely to admonish her for swearing when there’s children playing along the docks—when he spots you approaching. you have messy, shaggy hair and a face covered by a blue mask, dressed oddly for somebody in liyue. he doesn’t spot either vision nor weapon on you, but it’s hard to tell. at the very least, you don’t look hostile.

he decides not to get beidous attention, letting you do so as you walk up to her.

“pardon me?”

your voice is rough and coarse, like ore dragged into the light of the sun after growing underground for millennia.

she looks you up and down, deciding that you aren’t the merchant she needs. “what can i do for ya?”

“i w-as told you could provide passage to inazuma?”

she tilts her head. “huh? but the saokoku decree was lifted recently, there should be proper passenger boats leaving every hour.”

you swallow, and kazuha listens to the wind around you.

it’s afraid. apprehensive. tense, like you expect them to turn you down.

which he’s pretty sure beidou’s about to if you can’t save this.

“theyre full, and i heard you were leaving immediately. and besides, everybody knows the alcor’s one of the fastest boats on the waves.”

ah. you’re smart.

beidou laughs. “you’re right about that, kid, we certainly can get you there the fastest! but it ain’t gonna be cheap…”

you brightened, standing a little straighter. the wind lifted into a gentle breeze. “i have mora! na-ame your price.”

while they sorted that out, kazuha inspected your odd character. your voice was rough, strained over certain syllables, and occasionally you’d scratch at the side of your neck. he’d initially assumed that the mask was for anonymity, like shinobu from the arataki clan, but now he thinks it’s more for an illness.

one that could spread throughout the crew.

“well, you’ve got yourself a deal! any problems?” she turned back to kazuha for his verdict, and he checked over you once more.

dirt on your boots, but hands in the pockets of your jacket. you were more relaxed now, the air speaking of possibility.

“you sound sick,” he says simply, and your eyes widen.

“a-ah, i- it’s just disuse. i d-ont really talk often.” the mask lifted in a weak smile, your hand coming up again. the skin there was quickly turning red.

“then if there’s nothing else, welcome aboard, uh- whats your name, again?”

you give a name and dip your head in thanks. “thank you for your k-indness.”

kazuha took up the task of showing you around the boat, for no reason he could explain. you were nice to talk to, funny, and your voice was smooth after youd taken some of the medicine you carried.

you were easy to be around. it was like reuniting with a friend he hadn’t seen in years, an indescribable sense of comfort filling him at your side. you felt like home, like campfire chats around crackling wood, or the soft sound of waves on a shore. a clear sky, a cool breeze over a sun-warmed rock.

he was almost- no, he was sad to see you off, waving goodbye as you rushed onto the docks of ritou.

you would go far. whatever you wanted to do, kazuha was sure you would succeed, and extended you his blessings in your endeavors.

now imagine his reaction when, after settling the deal, beidou brings him a flyer. her jaw is set and her shoulders are tight, and he’s quick to see what irritated her.

it’s you.

the flyer has your posture more intimidating, a long staff in hand, eyes cold and calculated instead of the warm glow he remembered.

but it’s you. undoubtedly. even your picture tries to pull a smile from him- and then he sees the charges below.

and he wants to shiver despite the comfortable air.

how?

how can this be?

how can such a kind soul be so deceptive?

but isn’t that the thing? it says you utilize spellwork- that has to be it, right?

(but how can the wind lie?)

he leaps from the side of the alcor, barely able to tell beidou not to wait for him before he’s gone.

he’s in a confused daze for the next few weeks, constantly on your trail- but the wind guides him in loops.

you’re everywhere.

your aura is permanently in the air, giving him a shot of nothing short of pure bliss before he gets his wits about him.

he’s almost afraid, because the wind doesn’t lie- but it has to be, because you can’t enchant the air- but that’s the only way-

his mind is confused, constantly in a state of conflict, his instincts saying you’re a friend while rational thinking says youre foe. his heart calls for your safety whilst the careful shell around it reminds him of your crimes. of the way you’ve tarnished his god’s name, of the way you’ve disrespected captain beidou and her crew, of the way you took advantage of kindness to serve yourself.

of the way you took advantage of people like tomo.

he’s on a beach, preparing up some fish for dinner in a cave, when the wind suddenly smells sweeter.

it’s the scent he’s been following.

he stands and rushes onto the shore, unsure why he’s not reaching for his blade but not thinking too much about it, looking around. sand slides beneath his feet as he races towards a familiar figure: you.

you—his mind supplies him with the name you gave, but is it even yours? or was it just another layer to the lie?—jump as he approaches, but quickly relax. you slip down the mask to sip at the medicine the same shade as the sky, smiling at him.

“kazuha.”

his skin prickles, suddenly feeling hot just at the way you say his name. it’s so kind, so loving, almost, and any response flies from his mind. it’s so hard to be mad when your voice sounds like silk and the light…

the sun shines on your skin, nearly glowing, outlining every curve and angle of you and with a gentle hand. if you catch the light just right he can catch lines of something yellowed across your skin. it’s odd, he didn’t remember that on the… boat…

the flyer.

right.

you were a criminal.

a criminal of the worst kind.

a fraud, somebody who tried to take advantage of the people, using spells to try and garner attention and wealth from people-

people like tomo.

he grit his teeth and ignored the stab of pain in his chest as he drew his sword.

instantly, every ounce of happiness drains from your figure, replaced by an ice-cold tension that makes him want to shiver despite the warm breeze. “ka..zu…?”

the nickname falling from your lips begs him to reconsider, to stop.

its his last chance to.

“how dare you disgrace the kaedehara name?”

your eyes turn glossy and you back away, shrinking in on yourself. a choked-off sound crosses the short distance between them, and kazuha forced himself to ignore it.

you are not an innocent. the beautiful sunlight across your skin did not mean that you yourself were as good as it, the lovely scenery around you no indication of whatever rot lied in your soul; something that had to be there, for you to try and imitate the creator.

and it was rot. you were rotten, bitter, deceitful, using the magic you’d have to have bought—for no being could grant somebody like you that power—to try and warp mildew into meadows. he had to remember that.

he was being charmed.

and then he’s in liyue.

he’s going to a meeting with ningguang with beidou, where the news is broken.

the normally ever-steady tianquan looks shaken up, asking beidou first for her promise to utilize her crew and connections to spread what she’s about to say as far across liyue as she can.

and then she says it.

and kazuha leaves.

he’s in the crows nest of the alcor—it hasn’t left the harbor in months due to the awful storms over teyvat and the cruel waves—and curled into a ball, hands tangled into his white hair, undoing his ponytail in the process.

he tried to kill you.

he’d had you pinned to the beach- you didn’t even fight back. you’d just laid there, tears beading in your eyes, just staring up at him even as his sword was resting in the hollow of your throat.

he’d-

he’d nearly drawn blood.

he’d almost killed the very god he worshipped.

the shining light in his best friend’s life, the new beginning he’d found alongside his new home with the crux, the-

the flush across his skin whenever you were close, that sense of calm and serenity- of course. it all made sense, now that he put aside his blade.

you were a god.

his god.

and he’d tried to kill you.

he tries to soothe himself—you’re okay, you didn’t hurt them too bad, did you? imagine how the killer feels—but it’s in vain. the very wind turns against him, biting and cold despite the warm sun, and he’s shivering.

shaking, about to cry, because you… you were only seeking a new opportunity. you wanted another chance. you just wanted to live- ningguang had said your memory was likely damaged if even there at all, you didn’t even know you were a god at all. you didn’t even understand the nature of your sins, you didn’t understand the world you were in in any form, you didn’t understand why you were being chased, persecuted, hunted.

and kazuha, alongside the entire world, had decided that was a crime punishable by death.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau #kaedehara kazuha #sagau kazuha #spoilers under the tags’ ‘see all’ button be warned #hi hello welcome to spoiler territory: did you know you can find tomo’s grave ingame #tp to the artifact domain by narukami shrine and head east to the little gorge #head south down the gorge #who cares if nobody reads these bc they’re my tags and i get to infodump all i wanna #within the archive #specifically the ‘living beings -> wildlife’#you can find cats. nearly all are named ‘[descriptor] cat’ with the exception of one: the pure white cat #the pure white cat entry in the archive is simple named ‘sapphire’.#= their cat is now named sapphire in my mind #i hope you have learned something today even if it’s just ‘midas collects and reads archive entries unironically’

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