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anon-e-miss · 3 years

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What if Polyhexians had a culture/tradition of taking high-ranking enemies as spoils of war after winning a war. Not to treat them badly, but as a sort of ‘proof of victory’. Praxus and Polyhex go to war. Polyhex wins and Prowl finds himself being taken as a spoil of war.

Prowl wore chains to his bonding ceremony. When he had contemplated such an event, chains had not been the uniform he had imagined he might wear. He was a prize, one of twelve and the highest ranking of the captives Polihex had claimed as their due.

Though they call it a bonding, Prowl was aware that no sparks would be involved. It was more the matter if his specific ownership being given to one mech who had earned a great reward for their part in the miserable wore. The Rites of Repayment would begin any moment. Prowl was bare save for the gold chains that began at the welded loop around his neck, fell between his wells to hook to bangles in his wrist and then down to his ankles.

Standing behind him, the other Praxian prizes were similarly garbed, amongst them was his half brother. Though he was also the creation of the Duke, Barricade had emerged illegitimate and thus held no rank but what he had earned. As a but a Major, his was the lowest rank and by rote he would be rewarded to the Polihexian least deserving of a prize. Whether that was a benefit or a no, Prowl could not say.

Music trumpeted Prowl in a large tent. Sitting in a high backed chair was the young Warlord if Polihex, little more than a mechling, Jazz had taken the helm of his uncle, the puppet prince Windbreaker had originally installed over his vassal state. Polihex was no longer a vassal of the empire, they had crippled Praxus, made allies of old enemies. There was no question who ruled the resource rich desert or the lush coast. In a moment there would be no question who owned him.

With a single digit the Warlord beckoned and Prowl obeyed. He saw other prizes, ones from passed battles. Some wore armour as they sat to the left of their masters. Some were bare with clamps and chains on their nozzles. Some had forges round with righteous restitution. The Praxian prizes had been warned that they would have to earn the right to wear armour. Prowl hoped he would and quickly.

"Sit," the Warlord ordered, gesturing to his lap. He was not hard yet but Prowl knew he would be soon. Before the end of the dark-cycle he would have this mech's sentio-metallico within his frame for the first time. Prowl did not ask how he was to sit and made the choice to turn his back to the Warlord before he sat. The mech's servo came around to Prowl’s smooth belly and he pushed him back is that his doorwings were flush with the barbarian's chassis.

It was a mistake to sit like this. Prowl watched as each prize was awarded and he waited with growing dread for the moment Barricade entered. The Warlord cupped Prowl's array and softly ground the heel if his palm against Prowl’s array. Despite his embarrassment at the situation, Prowl's nozzles stiffened with arousal as his valve became wet. A husky moan broke from his vocalizer as the Warlord slowly slid one and then two digits between Prowl’s slick valve lips, before crooking them inside of Prowl. They stroked against Prowl's gamma cluster, they seemed to vibrate and Prowl arched his back as his legs fell open. He panted and then rasped a whine as a torrent of lubricants surged out around the Warlord's digits.

"Lovely," Jazz praised him, cupping his well with his free servo and ratcheting his nozzle between two digits. Prowl's helm fell back against the Warlord's shoulder as the mech brought him to ruin with only his digits. "I knew from yer optics ya'd burn hot."

"Stop!" Barricade screamed and Prowl lifted his helm in time to see him struck down. The guardb wrenched up his helm by its chevron and held a vicious blade to his throat. .

"Please!" Prowl cried. "My brother."

"Yer brother is he?" Jazz asked. Leaning his helm so he spoke directly against Prowl’s audio. His digits were still as the stayed buried within Prowl's heat. Fear for Barricade had Prowl's charge plummet. "Are ya sure he ain't lover?"

"My brother," Prowl insisted and he gasped as Jazz pinched his nozzle. His valve rippled over the stilled digits inside him. "Sired on the Duke by one who was not bonded to him. My brother..."

"Ricochet," Jazz called and a gold-faced Polihexian rose from the next chair.

"Yeah?"

"Take yer prize," he ordered. "A brother for my brother. It's only proper."

"Ya claim to love me 'n ya gift me a frothin' cyber-dog," Ricochet said.

"Stroke 'm right 'n he'll show ya his belly," Jazz replied.

Ricochet walked across the tent to where Barricade was pinned. He threw Barricade over his shoulder and then tossed him, perhaps playfully on one of the banquet tables, then he stood between Barrcade’s legs.

"I do not want see," Prowl moaned as the vibrations returned and he stained the Warlord's lap with more of his slick.

"'N if I want ya to?"

"Please!"

"Since ya asked nicely," Jazz chuckled.

He made Prowl stand and turn to face him. If Prowl held his doorwings high enough he could not see Ricochet with his mouth against Barrcade’s neck and his legs between his thighs. Jazz was leering up at him, appreciating the view. As Prowl watched he slid his panel aside and stroked his spike as it pressurized. It was large, curved and ridged. Prowl held his legs together as still more slick leaked from his channel.

"Prepare my spike for your sweet valve," Jazz ordered and Prowl knelt at his peds, he wet his lipplates and his mouth watered. Before he could close his lipplates around Jazz's spike the Warlord caught his chin. "I don't think I trust your mouth yet."

"I will not bite," Prowl promised. "I would be foolish to in a room of your subjects."

"'N y're not a fool?" Jazz asked.

"Never."

"Ya wanna suck my spike bad, Sweetspark?" Jazz asked.

"You would not be disappointed," Prowl replied. "I am very good sucking spike."

"Since y're eager for it," Jazz said, and he released Prowl's chin.

Before Prowl sucked the Warlord's spike, Prowl took his time licking it, tracing the ridges with his glossa. Jazz stroked his helm and murmured his approval. He flicked his glossa over the Warlord's transfluid duct and tasted the faintly bitter mechfluid. Prowl did not mind the taste over much, he had tasted worse transfluid. As Jazz continued to stroke his helm, Prowl took his tip into his mouth.

The crown of the spike was highly sensitive, Prowl sucked it as his glossa swirled under it. He was rewarded with a groan. Prowl took pride in what he did, and he did believe he sucked spike well. Certainly Crosscut and Chromedome had not complained. The Warlord did not let Prowl swallow him to the root and Prowl contented himself bobbing his helm up and down as he hollowed his cheekplates and flicked and twirled his glossa. Before he could make the mech come, Jazz pulled Prowl off his spike.

"Tryin' hard to get me to come down your throat," Jazz hummed as he stroked Prowl's neck. "There's somewhere else I'd rather overload."

Prowl squeaked with surprise when the Warlord kissed him, he still had the mech's own transfluid on his glossa. It did not seem to perturbed the barbarian at all as he swallowed the squeak and the moan as he laid claim to Prowl’s mouth. Prowl braced his servos on Jazz’s chassis as the Warlord hauled him up by his hips and lined his spike up with Prowl's core. The spike opened Prowl, he gasped as his rim was drawn taunt as the crown of the Warlord's spike ground against him. His resistance gave way and several centimetres of Jazz's spike breached his valve. It had been some time and Jazz had a lot of spike. Prowl moaned as his lining strained and the segments of his valve were cleaved open. There was some pain, there was also a vent stealing fullness and pleasure as his nodes were abused by all those ridges. His legs were shaking when his aft struck the Warlord's thighs. Prowl was, still panting when Jazz made him look him in the optics.

"Ride me," he ordered. Prowl obeyed.

#valveplug #maccadams #power imbalance #tf prowl #tf jazz #war prize #barbarian au #cultural differences #anon fic ask #anon asks ficlet #rape #dubcon

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zelenacat · 3 years

Text

When We Were Young- An Obitine Story- Chapter 18

Satine did not tell Korkie about her fight with his father, she did however, ask him to question his siblings on whether or not they wanted to meet their father. Tyra felt like she would hate to run into him at the temple if he’d met her, and Tristan felt that it would add more uproar to his life. Mara didn’t think he’d be proud of her, and seemed to understand that he’d fought with her mother. Korkie outright said he felt like forming a relationship with his father would be a betrayal to his mother. When Satine assured him it wouldn’t be, Korkie still didn’t budge.

So, a mere hour before the Duchess of Mandalore would welcome the head of the Trade Federation. She was texting Senator Amidala.

“None of the kids want to meet him?”

“None.” Satine repeated.

Padme bit her lip, “He’ll be angry.”

“I know.”

The phone end went silent.

“Padme,” Satine stutterted, “I mean, if it wouldn’t be too much, could you ask Anakin to break the news to him?”

“They haven’t been on the greatest of terms,” Padme frowned, “since Obi-Wan found out that we knew before he did they’ve been a little tense.”

“Could you tell him then,” Satine swallowed, “and ask him if he’d like to be there when I give birth.”

Padme sighed.

“Please, Padme,” Satine begged, “he won’t talk to me.”

“Alright,” Padme agreed, “but I don’t know what he’ll say.”

“Thank you, thank you so much, Padme,” Satine gasped, “you’re such an angel.”

“Good luck with the Federation heads, Duchess,” the Senator warned, “they can be stiff.”

“I will, Senator,” Satine smiled, “thank you, thank you a thousand times over.”

The Duchess’ dress weighed more than any dress should. Four ladies had to carry it into her room on a stretcher. It seemed that every blue crystal owned by the Mandalorian royal house was on that dress.

“How-” Satine began.

“Five pounds,” Waldie grinned, “and that’s without your tiara.”

Parna squealed.

“Let’s get you in it, Satine,” Khaami huffed, “it’ll certainly be a piece of work.”

“That it will.” Waldie agreed.

There were at least three layers of petticoats that Satine counted, then came the glorious masterpiece itself. A luscious royal purple silk resplendent as the stars with gems worth more than the Banking Clan owned all together.

“Ooph,” Satine huffed, “heavy.”

Waldie smiled, “Should I send for the royal jeweler?”

“Please.”

Khaami and Parna’s dresses were navy, modeled in the traditional style of ladies to the Duchess. Lord Eldar, Khaami’s husband, had given his wife their family jewels for the occasion. Parna ooed and awed. Parna, as head lady, wore the golden sash of service.

“They Royal Jeweler, Your Grace.” Waldie announced.

The old man bowed low, holding a wooden chest out before him.

“Your jewels, Your Highness.”

Parna gasped as Satine opened the treasure. Satine adorned herself with a diamond choker and pearls around her neck, and silver bangles on her wrists.

“Satine,” Khaami gasped, “I didn’t know you had such majesty.”

The Duchess giggled, “There’s more to come.”

The royal jeweler opened the box that Waldie was holding and pulled out a navy sash.

“The medals? Parna gasped.

“We’re putting on a show,” Satine explained as Khaami pinned on her medals, “and I intend to make the trade representatives quiver in their boots.”

“You certainly will.” Waldie assured.

“And now,” the Royal Jeweler gestured, “for the tiara.”

Satine’s eyes watered as she saw it, remembering her mother.

“The late Duchess wore this on her wedding day,” the Jeweler stated as if Satine had forgotten, “it was a gift for Queen Mara from King Zagreus the Second of Zygerria.”

It was gorgeously intricate. Silver, diamonds, pearls, and even some quartz glowed magnificent in the headpiece. Satine stared at herself in the mirror. She looked like an empress.

“Do excuse me, Your Highness,” the jeweler bowed, “I must prepare your nephew.”

“Thank you,” Satine nodded, practicing moving her head in the crown, “you’ve done me a wonderful service.”

“I can’t believe you invited the whole court,” Khaami grinned, “I haven't seen some of the clan leaders in years.”

“I know,” Parna agreed, “and we get to dress so fancily.”

Satine had forgotten that Parna was a little younger than her, they had become adults together, yet in many ways they were still young.

“I saw them raising the banners earlier,” Khaami cooed, “and I must say, the new crest is marvelous.”

“You know how I love lilies.” Satine smiled.

Parna slipped the Duchess’ comfiest navy flats on her feet.

“Ah,” Satine placed her hands on her stomach, “this is going to be a long night.”

“You’ve got this,” Parna huffed, “you’re the Duchess.”

“And the She-wolf of Mandalore.” Khaami added with a grin.

“Yes,” Satine agreed, “I am.”

The Duchess was grateful her dress had a stiff back, it helped spread the weight evenly as she walked. Satine, donning her transparent shawl, met Korkie behind the doors to the grand hallway.

“Wow,” his jaw dropped, “don’t scare them, Lady Aunt.”

“I make no promises.” Satine winked.

Korkie himself was also dressed finely. Wearing his navy military uniform with a purple sash and medals to mark him as heir presumptive. He even had a ceremonial sword.

“I’ll meet you at the bottom of the stairs,” Korkie nodded, disappearing down a side hall, “good luck.”

Satine smiled.

“Her Grace, Satine Kryze, Duchess of Mandalore, Second of Her Name and Lady Krewella, accompanied by Lady Parna Supreis and Lady Khaami Eldar.”

The doors opened wide and Satine descended gracefully, a noble dignity caressing her features. It was so silent the only noise were Satine, Parna, and Khaami’s footfalls, but the Duchess knew it was just awe settling in.

The doors across the hall opened.

“His Grace, Korkyrach Kryze, Duke of Sundari.”

Those who weren’t enthralled by Satine swiveled their heads to Korkie, who kept a steady pace walking down the hall as he was trained to do. When Satine reached the bottom of the stairs, she straightened her shoulders and waited. Then, holding out her hand as Korkie came close, allowed herself to be escorted to her throne.

As she sat, Satine scanned the crowd, there, at the back, were the Trade Federation representatives. An aide whispered to them and proudly, the representatives came forward, their circle of assistants around them.

“The Honorable Trade Federation Ambassadors lead by Trai Dee.”

Trai Dee, a man dressed in gold robes, bowed low before Satine. All his minions followed.

“Mandalore welcomes the Trade Federation with great reverence,” the Duchess announced, smiling, “we look forward to working to ensure the benefit of both our systems and set an example to the galaxy.”

“The Trade Federation thanks you for your welcome, my Great Lady,” Trai Dee raised his head, “we come with the righteous goal of acting as a beacon of humanly grace in wartime, and are grateful for Your Highness’ sentiments.”

“I appreciate the Trade Federation’s noble quest, and am most grateful for your time,” Satine looked up to face the court, “Mandalorians, shall we treat our guests with all our system has to offer?”

Cheers went up from the crowd, and a low rumble began as the drummers warmed up their tambors. The dance floor cleared, Satine stood, so did Trai Dee.

The Duchess walked down to the Ambassador, “I would be honored if you would join me for the first dance, Your Honor.”

“It would be my pleasure to accept, Your Grace.” Trai Dee agreed.

They danced La Mandalorra, and old Mandalorian waltz performed only to drum beats.

“Senator Amidala never told me you were such an exquisite dancer.” smiled Trai Dee.

“Thank you for your compliment,” Satine smiled, “I do hope you will enjoy the way we do things here.”

The Ambassador grinned back, “I happen to like grandeur and courtly rigour, Your Grace.”

Satine laughed, “Then you’ve come to the right place.”

The Duchess twirled, her dress spooling out around her. Then, she faced Trai Dee, who got down on one knee and kissed her hand. Applause arose, and the Ambassador stood as more people joined the dance floor. Khaami, Parna, and Korkie all danced with Ambassador Dee’s aides while Satine and her partner danced the second song.

“If I may,” Satine began, “I hope you will excuse any dealings you had with my former Prime Minister.”

“It’s quite a terrible thing,” agreed Trai Dee, “I am just glad he is in custody.”

“So am I,” Satine tried not to frown thinking of Almec, “Senator Amidala was a huge help to us.”

“The Senator is a gift to us all.” Ambassador Dee nodded.

The second song finished and Satine curtsied.

“Do excuse me, Ambassador, I must see to my ladies.”

Khaami and Parna nodded at their partners and left to join Satine.

“Is anyone here I should know about?” Satine whispered.

“The Wrens are here,” Parna stated, “but I don’t think that will be a problem.”

“I saw a jetpack flying in the distance,” Khaami quivered, “but I have scanned the room and can’t see anyone we affiliate with Death Watch.”

Satine scanned the room as well, smiling slightly as she saw Tristan and Korkie, but then returned to her goal. After a minute she was satisfied.

“Accompany to visit Jaru, our Prime Minister,” Satine instructed, “I don’t believe you’ve met her yet.”

“I have.” Khaami grinned.

“Still,” Satine linked her arm through her lady’s, “you are married now.”

The Prime Minister was standing with some trade aide, who all regarded Satine and her ladies politely.

“Your Grace,” Jaru Djarin bowed, “you throw a splendid party.”

“It’s all in honor of our guests,” the Duchess smiled, turning to the aides, “Mandalore is thrilled to have you here.”

“We are happy to be here,” an aide responded, “Your Highness is very kind.”

“Well then,” Satine smiled pleasantly, “I hope to see you enjoying yourselves.”

Next, the Duchess made her way to Korkie, who was conversing with Mandalorian noble children his own age.

Tristan saw her first, and bowed, “Your Grace.”

“Aunt Satine,” Korkie grinned, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

The Duchess raised an eyebrow, “This song is coming to a close, Korkyrach, and I wore my good shoes.”

Sabine Wren snorted at that.

“Lady Aunt,” Korkie handed his cup to Tristan and held out his hand, “would you do me the honor of joining me in the next dance.”

“Why, Korkie,” Satine placed a hand to her chest, “I would simply adore that.”

The Duchess let her nephew lead her onto the dance floor. The musicians began, and Satine twirled.

“I never thought I’d have to speak pleasantly for so long,” Korkie whispered, “I met a couple of the Ambassador’s aides, our conversation was practically a minefield.”

“Minefield?” Satine asked.

“They of course have ties to both sides,” Korkie explained, “but I got the impression they resented your friendship with Auntie Padme.”

“I see,” Satine’s eyes narrowed, “and did they mention the Ambassador’s feelings on the matter?”

The Duchess spinned, returning to get Korkie’s answer.

“I think they feel we are more Republic-leaning,” the Duke of Sundari answered, “but an aide, Jaira Deere, said that the Viceroy would be pleased if Mandalore stayed neutral, and of course, that’s who they represent.”

The Duchess curtsied, the Duke bowed.

“You’ve been very helpful, Korkie,” Satine straightened, “let me introduce you to the Ambassador directly, maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”

On her nephew’s arm, Satine went in search of Ambassador Dee. She found him talking with Ursa and Alrich Wren of all people.

Alrich saw them first, “Your Highness, Your Grace.”

Trai Dee turned around with a tense smile on his face, and Satine wondered if this visit was as much informational as it was to strike a deal and make money.

“Your Highness.” he bowed.

“Ambassador,” the Duchess smiled sweetly, “allow me to introduce you to my nephew, the Duke of Sundari.”

Dee bowed, “It’s a pleasure, Your Grace.”

“The pleasure is all ours, Your Honor,” Korkie extended his hand, “Mandalore is grateful for your visit.”

The Ambassador shook Korkie’s hand, “We’re glad to be here.”

The Duchess made some pleasant compliment about Korkie’s schoolwork and then excused herself, promising she’d return soon.

Satine was glad to find Tristan standing relatively alone, watching Sabine dance with a Saxon Lord.

“Lord Wren, may I speak with you?”

Tristan bowed, “Of course, your Grace.”

Satine lowered her voice, “I missed you and Mara’s sixteenth birthday.”

The boy’s eyes saddened, “I thought you forgot.”

“I couldn’t,” the Duchess tried to keep her tone even, “I was there you know.”

“Mara, and I met up for fifteen minutes in a shady part of town,” Tristan grinned at Satine’s expression, “we had coffee and commed Korkie and Tyra.”

The Duchess gave a small smile, “Well, tell your family that they’re invited to breakfast tomorrow with Korkie and my ladies. I’d like to give you your present.”

Tristan perked up, “I would love that.”

“I’m glad.”

Tristan bowed and Satine meandered through the ballroom until she returned to Korkie and the Ambassador.

“Your nephew is quite inquisitive,” Ambassador Dee’s eyes sparkled, “it’s refreshing to see one so young care about politics.”

“I feel that way as well,” Satine wrapped an arm around Korkie, “my nephew makes for a good Duke.”

When it came time for dinner, a bell rang and two grand doors opened into the dining hall. Pride filled Satine’s features, her decorators had done a marvelous job.

As usual, Korkie pulled out his aunt’s chair and pushed her in as the rest of the guests were sitting down. Parna, Khaami, and Korkie were all sprinkled at the head of the table near the Ambassador and his aides, along with the heads of Clean Saxon, Wren, and Bralor.

Near the end of the table sat Count Vizsla, looking unusually uncomfortable. Duchess Satine, when she wasn’t conversing with the Ambassador or eavesdropping on conversations, spent her time watching him. When the meal concluded, she noticed that Count Vizsla, instead of returning to the ballroom, took a wrong turn at an intersection.

“Follow Count Vizsla,” Satine instructed Korkie, “and take Parna with you.”

The rest of the evening was spent back in the ballroom. No one was dancing now, but instead couches had been moved into the room and the musicians were playing quietly as cocktails were served.

“Do tell us, Your Highness,” spoke up a make aide, “how neutrality has managed to keep your system stable.”

“It’s been quite a journey,” Satine responded, “but war is intolerable to civilization, it wreaks havoc in unseemly ways that destroys all the good society works for.”

“And yet you take support from the Republic.” a female aide countered.

Satine raised an eyebrow, “We’d be willing to take support from the Separatists if they were kind enough to not block our trading lines.”

“Jaira,” Ambassador Dee interjected, “we will not let the war interfere with politics where it is not needed.”

Slowly, the guests approached Satine and thanked her for such a splendid party, and ever the esteemed hostess, the Duchess replied that she was happy to provide her service.

Parna and Korkie returned about an hour later, Parna pulled her lady aside.

“He confessed that his son made contact with him and spilled all of Death Watch’s plans to spoil the event, he’s in custody now.”

Satine smiled as if this were happy news and thanked Parna with a knowing look.

When it came down to only a few people left, Satine asked her guests if they wished to retire.

“My ladies will direct you to your rooms,” the Duchess gestured, “please know that your comfort is our first concern.”

Ambassador Dee bowed, “Thank you, Your Grace, sleep well.”

As the musicians packed up, Satine found Korkie and Tristan struggling to keep their eyes open.

“Get rest, boys,” the Duchess instructed, “we have big days ahead.”

Confession time, Satine took the elevator to her rooms. Korkie came up with her.

“We can’t have you falling asleep on the job, Lady Mother.” he teased quietly.

As Parna and Khaami were still attending to their guests Korkie sat his mother down and took off her shoes.

“You don’t need to do this, Korkie.” Satine smiled sweetly.

“I take of my siblings,” the Duke grinned, “I’m the oldest.”

That made Satine’s heart melt, and she felt safe enough to ask about whether or not Korkie would meet his father.

The Duke paused, “I’d still rather not, but maybe one day.”

The Duchess nodded and held out her arm to help her son up.

“Get some rest,” she advised, “Tristan and his family will have breakfast with us.”

Korkie winked, “Fun.”

“Go on now.” Satine shooed.

It took a half an hour to remove all of Satine’s jewels and place them in the appropriate boxes. It then took a further two trips for Khaami to return them all to the Royal Jewel Room while Parna undid Satine’s heavy gown.

“I can’t believe you’re still wearing corsets in your second trimester.” the lady admitted.

“I’ve done it before with twins,” Satine stated, “and we have Hera now, if you’re worried.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Parna agreed, handing Satine her nightshift, “I think things will be much easier now.”

When Khaami and Parna woke Satine up the next morning, the Duchess felt drained. She had a headache and her back and shoulders hurt from carrying the weight of last night’s dress.

“We have to spread our vile mixture on your sheets, remember,” Khaami whispered, “to stop the rumors?”

With a groan, Satine nodded.

“Come on,” Parna goaded, “your dress will be lighter today.”

Her dress was lighter that day. She wore her dress embroidered with the Mandalorian star system. The corset that had been added wasn’t as stiff, but Satine wore heels and a sash to distract from the fact that she had gained some weight. Then, while Parna did up her hair with lilies, Khaami spread Satine’s fake blood on her bedsheets.

“I’ll dip some on your nightdress too,” the lady added, “it’ll make it more convincing.”

Before heading downstairs, Satine fished out two plain-looking keycards.

“What are the presents?” Khaami asked.

“Palace entry cards,” Satine blushed, “so they can come see me and have access to the kitchens.”

Parna snorted. The main breakfast was served in the dining hall, but Satine went to a private room where Korkie was happily chatting with the Wrens.

“Duchess,” Ursa grinned, a gleam in her eye, “you were resplendent of our sun last night.”

“Thank you,” Satine blinked, “but tell me, how is the food this morning?”

“Delicious!” Sabine clapped.

Alrich shot her a look. Tristan snorted.

“Uh, I mean, delicious, Your Grace.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Satine smiled, sitting down, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen your family, Ursa, how are you all?” “Well, thank you,” Ursa nodded, “though Sabine had a question about Pre Vizsla.”

Satine raised an eyebrow.

Sabine shrunk, “Word travels fast.”

“Ah.”

Was Sabine friendly with the Death Watch? She’d have to ask Tristan. Korkie then took up the conversation to ask about Tristan’s schoolwork, which the Duchess found greatly interesting.

“Top of the class this semester,” she smiled, “really?”

“Yes,” Tristan blushed, “and I intend to study genetic engineering.”

“How interesting.” Satine looked to Khaami, a smile on her face.

At the end of the meal, while Ursa and Sabine excused themselves, Khaami, Parna and Alrich were clearing the plates, Satine turned to her sons.

“Korkie, give us a moment, will you?”

Standing, the Duke of Sundari winked at his brother and left.

“Tristan,” the Duchess held out the cards, “this gives you access to anywhere in the palace, one is for Mara, but I’d like you both to come and go as you please.”

Tristan was flabbergasted.

“You will be able to access the kitchen, yes,” Satine smiled, “and anything in the med lab.”

Tristan took the card, hand shaking, “Thank you, Lady Mother.”

“Happy sixteenth birthday, Tristan Kryze,” Satine kissed her second son’s head, “to you and your twin sister.”

Tristan wrapped his arms around his mother.

“May I come in now?”

Satine laughed, “Of course, Korkie.”

“I’ll ask Mara to come this weekend,” Tristan said, excited, “does this mean we get wine cellar permission?”

Korkie snorted, “I’m not even allowed down there.”

Satine leveled him a look, “And you shouldn’t be.”

Tristan turned to Korkie, “Don’t worry, bro, you’ve got me now.”

A small knock bounced off the door. It was Ursa Wren.

“The meeting room is prepared, Your Grace.”

“Thank you,” Satine stood, “for all your help.”

#obitine #obi wan kenobi #obiwan #satine x obiwan #korkie kenobi #korkie kryze #Duchess Satine #satine kryze #fanfic #mandalore

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maglors-anion-gap · 3 years

Note

Feanor & Fingolfin with prompt 7?

Thank you for the prompt! It was a pleasure to write this!

Prompt 7: “I’ve never killed anyone before”

Fëanor & Fingolfin, T

Warnings: Character death, brief fisticuffs, grieving

Other Tags: darkening of valinor

"But Melkor was also there, and he came to the house of Fëanor and there he slew Finwë King of the Noldor before his doors, and spilled the first blood in the Blessed Realm; for Finwë alone had not fled from the horror of the Dark.”

- Quenta Silmarillion, “The Flight of the Noldor”

~~~

Fëanáro learns many lessons in the Darkness.

First: he learns that blood, in the flickering light of the tallow lamp, looks black.

“What do you think, Little Prince?” it whispers with its dancing tongues. “Doesn’t he yet look like he sleeps?”

Fëanáro remembers his mother, how her laughter lived like a shade in their house, how her chest rose and fell in her bier in the Gardens. Míriel was sleeping, until she wasn’t. Finwë isn’t sleeping. And the black blood whispers lies where it mixes with Finwë’s hair and Fëanáro’s hair and the lamplight.

~~~

Second: he learns how to scream, to tear at his hair, to fight like a wild thing against the arms that pull him from his position of supplication.

His father’s broken body, already bereft of spirit, lies cooling on the floor. His hands, Fëanáro thinks, brown and slender, are twisted like his sword is twisted - beyond repair. It is unbearable to Fëanáro to leave him there, and equally unbearable to begin the funeral rites - the rites for the first Untimely death in Aman.

Nolofinwë is there, and he is the one to drag Fëanáro, frothing in his anger and his grief, into a shadowy antechamber. Fëanáro struggles mightily against the hard bar of his arm, until he realizes his hands are slipping not in old blood but falling tears. His brother’s cheeks are wet, and Fëanáro’s cheeks are wet, and Fëanor turns to wrap him in a bloodstained embrace. While this is not the first time they have seen each other cry, it may be the first time he has held his brother since he was very small indeed.

~~~

Third: he learns that his little brother possesses his own sort of fire.

When they emerge from the antechamber, hair arranged and hands washed, the coppery scent of blood lingers. Nolofinwë is straight-backed and clear-eyed.

Nolofinwë will not allow Fëanáro to deny Finwë the rites he is owed, the rites that no one thought would come to pass on these shores, the rites that harken back to an age of shadows and things that hunted in the endless night. Spirit, and ceremony, and a light in the dark.

Fëanáro will not allow Nolofinwë to be the only one to prepare their father for his pyre. They will go to the spring together to collect water, to return balancing the metal canisters on their shoulders, as is the duty of the children of the Departed. It is their duty to bathe him, to wrap him in his white linens, to consign him to the Eternal Flame.

Old suspicions and hurts fog the air. While returning - somewhere before forest gives way to field - harsh words are exchanged. Fëanáro has grown tired of his brother’s resolve, his mind’s eye turning bitterly inward upon his own insufficiencies and perceived failures, wailing at him like he is still that child who wondered why Mother didn’t wake. Nolofinwë’s seeming composure is odious to Fëanáro in his state of unravelling, and he picks at those old loose threads.

Nolofinwë, for his part, will only tolerate so much sniping before he wears thin. In an instant the metal urns hit the earth, and Fëanáro follows their trajectory moments later. The lantern winks out. They grapple in the dust and the dark, snarling like beasts. Fëanáro rips the gold bangle from Nolofinwë’s right ear - with his teeth.

He is driving a knee upward repeatedly against his brother’s spleen when he feels it - the sly prickle of steel against his throat. The knife - but a few inches long - is one Fëanáro recognizes as his own work, gifted in a better time for the opening of letters, and of oysters, and not of the fluttering arteries of the neck. It kisses him and whispers “Witness the work of your hands.”

“I’ve never killed anyone before.” Nolofinwë’s breath is harsh in Fëanáro’s ear where he has him pinned in the dirt. “But you - you are the reason why Father wasn’t in Tirion, the reason why he didn’t flee. I could kill you.”

Something wild flares in Fëanáro’s eyes, like the wolf who knows the hunter has found him, and he leans forward into the blade. He feels it bite into him, feels the blood seep into his collar. “Brother of my blood,” he hisses.

Nolofinwë drops the blade, throwing himself backward in horror, hand coming up to trace that seven-year-old band at his throat, silvering against his midnight skin. Fëanáro laughs - a horrible and rough thing - and pushes himself to his feet.

Fëanáro rekindles the lamp, flame illuminating the planes of his cheeks. His deep-set eyes glitter like obsidian. He gives his hand to his younger brother, who looks all the smaller for how he cringes from Fëanáro, and from himself, and from the light. He still takes Fëanáro’s hand, though.

~~~

Later, Nolofinwë stands on cold shores and whispers “I could kill you.” I could kill for you.

This is the first of many lessons that the Darkness teaches Nolofinwë.

~~~

Notes:

Uhhh I’m so sorry. I don’t know what you were hoping for exactly, but I’ve got a fresh plate of pain for you.

It took me a while to get to the “I’ve never killed anyone before” part, huh? Make no mistake, fingolfin and feanor are More Similar That Either Cares to Admit.

I was thinking about what would convince feanor to respect fingolfin. I think on one hand he already does, because he considers him a competent threat to his throne. On the other hand, he always calls him half-brother, and it’s fingolfin who promises to be his full brother in heart. And in some ways, in the state feanor is in at the moment, a supreme act of violence might be the only thing that drives him to claim kinship with fingolfin (largely because he knows how horrifying that is to fingolfin, to be united in violence).

Noldorin funeral rites are loosely based on a conversation I had with my mother’s best friend about her own mother’s funeral and Hindu burial rites. I was inspired by arwenindomiel’s diverse tolkien edits for TSS2020.

#feanor #fingolfin #valinor #ask game #fic game #fic

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tradgicworks · 3 years

Text

Heartfelt: P-2 Heavy Meddle

Anna Hjarta finds herself as the sole witness of a strange disappearance. She decides to help find the missing student, despite how much her academy wants to keep it a secret.

WORD COUNT - 6030

Fast paced heavy metal music blared out of Anna’s headphones. Her short dirty-blonde hair bobbed up and down to the fast paced rhythm. Her grey-blue colored eyes scanned the floor as she picked up any trash that was left behind. She brushed her bangs out of her face revealing a faint scar that ran from her left cheekbone all the way through her left brow. Her music was interrupted by the ringtone of her phone. She tapped her phone and answered the call.

“Yeah?” Anna asked as she continued picking up trash.

“Hey, Anna,” Another volunteer’s voice responded. “I finished up where I’m at. Everyone else is done too, we’re gonna head back for today.”

“Cool. I got the keys with me, I’ll finish here then head back myself. You guys have a good night.”

“Don’t overdo it Anna. Goodnight,” The volunteer said before hanging up the phone.

Her music roared back to life. Anna sighed as she looked at her nearly full trash bag. She pulled down her headphones and turned them off. She laid the bag on the floor and swept the remaining bits of trash into the bag with her leg. She tied the bag up and carried it to the dump.

Despite the academy’s strict rules, disobedience was inevitable- especially the week before winter break. For some reason or another, the academy had a policy of having Juniors and Seniors take their finals early. This was done in order to “encourage the active pursuit of future academic endeavors”. Most students took it as a chance to apply to college, scholarships, or internships. While others treated it as an early vacation or an excuse to party in secret. The abandoned auditorium especially was a hotspot for delinquents. Due to the lack of manpower the academy could not afford to routinely survey the theater during the last week of classes, their focus was on finishing up the preparations for the graduation ceremony after all. As such the troublemakers rebelled in relative comfort, often leaving huge messes. Ultimately, it would be up to the older students to take it upon themselves to volunteer and clean up the mess. Anna Hjarta included.

Anna heaved the trash bag into the dumpster and shut it closed. She took off her work-gloves with a satisfied look. Thunder faintly growled behind her. The sound of rain wafted into her ears.

“Mph,” She thought to herself as she checked her backpack. “I forgot my umbrella.”

Anna stuffed her headphones and gloves back into her bag. She glanced outside through a dirty window. The light of the campus walkway was barely visible through all the rain. Anna frowned and flipped a switch on the wall. The work lights that lined the halls of the auditorium blinked into darkness. Her body froze as she heard a shrill scream echo through the pitch black halls.

“Is someone there?” Anna called out in a hush tone.

She was met with silence.

The muffled sounds of teary cries for help crawled into her ears as she waited for a reply. She flipped the lights back on and ran towards the sound.

“Are you okay?!” She yelled out while trying to find the source of the struggle.

One last shriek rang out before being snuffed short. Anna found herself at the doors of the theater. She tried to open them but felt a strange resistance hold them shut. She slammed against them until they finally swung open. She shook her phone and its flashlight turned on. She found herself in the empty theater, the draped curtains fluttering softly. She surveyed the room in confusion and let out a deep sigh after searching for a few moments.

“I need more sleep,” She muttered.

Anna turned around and began to head back towards the dorms. Her shoe kicked against something and sent it gliding across the floor. She flashed her light at it and noticed a sparkle in the corner of her eye. She walked towards it and picked it up. In her fingers was a small golden bangle bracelet.

“Devoted to our pride and joy, Sophie,” Anna read out the cursive that was written across the back of the bracelet.

. . .

Anna flinched awake to the blare of her phone’s alarm. She sat up and looked at her surroundings groggily. Articles of old clothes laid scattered all across the floor. Her desk was stacked high with medical textbooks- some open, almost all riddled with sticky notes. Her bag hung from the door knob with Sophie’s bracelet attached to it by the zipper.

Anna slowly got out of bed. She walked to the bathroom and began to brush her teeth. When she finished she rinsed out her mouth and splashed some water on her face. She looked in the mirror, her scar had become an ugly streak that burned through her face. She traced it lightly with her fingers and frowned. She pulled out a small makeup bag from underneath her vanity. Layer after layer, she applied makeup on her scar until it returned to the faint seam that it was before. She gave a slight smile as she observed her handiwork. The academy’s morning announcements buzzed to life as she finished up.

“Good Morning, students,” Dr. Ward’s, the headmaster, soothing voice called out. “Yesterday’s rain proved to be heavier than was originally forecasted. Be careful when going between classes as staff have reported significant amounts of mud from the downpour. Furthermore, yesterday also marked the most amount of curfew violations in the academy’s history. A fact that brings me much disappointment. The students who violated the curfew will be called to my office to receive a punishment. You know who you are and you will be contacted privately. Let this serve as a reminder to the rest of the student body that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated again. Now, for today’s agenda…” Dr. Ward began reading out the remainder of the dull announcements.

Anna put away her makeup bag. Her phone began to buzz. She picked it up and read the screen.

“Anna Hjarta. Please report to Dr. Ward’s office at-” Anna raised a brow.

She threw on the cleanest uniform she could find and grabbed her bag as she walked out the door.

. . .

The headmaster’s office was built at the highest point of the campus. Curved stairs lead up to the main entrance. A ramp sloped downwards and cut through the middle of the stairs, allowing access into the library on the bottom floor. Colorful flowers and well maintained shrubs all sprinkled with water droplets from the rain decorated the entrance. Anna made her way to the headmaster's office.

“Excuse me,” She said as she walked inside.

Dr. Ward’s office was incredibly organized. Her large desk was filled with papers- all stacked into neat piles. Two bookshelves filled with all sorts of books, awards, and gifts stood behind her. On the wall was a display case with a beautiful ceremonial dagger stored inside. Behind her was a large window that allowed for a majestic view of the entire campus.

“Anna,” Dr. Ward smiled. “Have a seat.”

“You wanted to see me?” Anna said as she sat down.

“Yes, I did. I wanted to see you and Eva,” Dr. Ward gestured at Eva who sat in the chair next to Anna.

Dr. Ward sat down and opened her laptop. The door to her office swung open and a tall warden walked in with a cup of coffee.

“Thank you, Caroline,” Dr. Ward smiled as she set down the cup.

Caroline replied with a curt nod. Her green eyes were locked into a permanent glare. Her brunette hair was tied into a tight bun. She wore the Warden's uniform which consisted of combat boots, neatly pressed pants, a long sleeved button up shirt with a tie, and a blocky hat. Caroline specifically, wore a small badge and a large coat over her shoulders like a cloak as an imposing way of signifying her position of authority amongst the Wardens.

“I have been informed that both of you entered the dorms after the curfew, is that correct?” Dr. Ward asked while quickly typing.

“That’s correct,” Anna said casually.

“Yup,” Eva clicked her tongue.

“Hmm,” Dr. Ward glanced at the two before continuing to type. “Would you mind enlightening me over why you entered the dorms so late?”

“Lost track of time,” Eva said.

“I was helping clean up the auditorium, my group was scheduled for yesterday and I stayed after to finish up. I ended up getting caught in the rain though,” Anna explained.

“I see,” Dr. Ward said as she typed. "Was there anyone else with you, Anna?"

“There shouldn't have been, everyone else went back early. I only stayed after because I had the keys.”

“Did you notice anything strange on your way back?" Dr. Ward asked.

“What do you mean by strange...?” Anna asked slowly.

“Yesterday there was some unexpected interference with the academy’s security system. Given how many students disobeyed the curfew, I wanted to make sure that no one was up to any mischief while some of the cameras were offline,” Dr. Ward drank from her coffee.

“No, not really. I mean I can’t even think of anyone crazy enough to be out in that rain on purpose,” Anna shrugged.

“You can never be too sure,” Dr. Ward pushed up her glasses.

“Well, actually, there was one thing,” Anna grabbed the bangle bracelet from her bag and held it towards Dr. Ward. “I found this.”

Dr. Ward grabbed it and investigated it. Her face tensed slightly as she read the back of it. She handed it to Caroline who didn’t react.

“Where did you find this?” Dr. Ward glanced up at Anna with a smile, but her eyes turned cold and empty.

Both Anna and Eva shifted uncomfortably at the unusual look in Dr. Ward’s eyes.

“The theater,” Anna replied.

Dr. Ward glanced at Caroline who quickly nodded in reply and walked out of the office.

“Something wrong?” Eva asked with slight meekness.

Dr. Ward’s eyes brightened to her usual comforting shine. “No, nothing is wrong. I am just upset that your more rebellious peers are still using the auditorium irresponsibly. Especially when we both know that they could be doing so much better.”

“I see,” Eva awkwardly replied.

Dr. Ward took a deep breath.

“Thank you ladies for providing some insight into what happened during the storm. Regardless of your intentions, the fact remains that both of you disobeyed the curfew. As such, you will be penalized. The school adheres to its strict guidelines after all and they must be enforced indiscriminately,” Dr. Ward took out two forms and began filling them out quickly.

“What do we have to do?” Anna asked.

“The two of you will be working as receptionists at the freshmen dorms,” Dr. Ward handed a filled out form to Anna and Eva each. “Take these to the front office of the dorm. They’ll give you everything you need and tell you what to do from there. You may leave now,” Dr. Ward instructed before returning her attention to work.

Anna and Eva walked towards the door.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Dr. Ward called out to them as they opened the door. “Try not to get into any more trouble,” She said with a gentle smile.

. . .

Anna’s gaze lingered on the empty hallways. She leaned over the receptionist counter, her cheek resting in her palm. Eva, who sat beside her, groaned and put her feet up on the counter. Anna glanced at her with annoyance.

“Stop that,” Anna said.

“What? My shoes aren’t dirty,” Eva replied.

Dried up mud crumbled onto the counter.

“Not that dirty at least,” Eva yawned.

“It’s just rude to the janitors who have to clean that up,” Anna’s gaze hardened.

“Sheesh, calm down. A little dirt won’t kill anyone. What are you some sort of neat freak?” Eva replied matter-of-factly.

“No,” Anna looked at Eva in her eyes. “I just don’t like dirt.”

Eva put her feet down and sat up straight.

“What do you mean by that?” Her eyes narrowed.

The two stared at each other. Anna grabbed a napkin and cleaned the dirt off of the counter.

“What else would it mean?” She glanced at Eva’s shoes.

“Fine, my bad for bringing in dirty shoes,” Eva took her shoes off the counter. “Sue me.”

“Thank you,” Anna nodded curtly before kneeling down to clean up the dirt.

“You’re a real bleeding heart you know,” Eva commented looking down at her.

Anna didn’t respond, she simply continued until the mess was clean.

Eva looked at her for a few moments before she gave up and went back to playing on her phone.

Anna crumbed up the napkin and threw it into a trashcan. The sound of loud banging erupted from the front doors as it fell in.

“Let me in!” A desperate voice yelled from outside.

“She’s going to break the freaking doors-” Eva growled and stood up.

She quickly walked towards the doors and swung them open just as Gwyneth was about to knock again.

“What are you doing?” Eva grit her teeth.

“Thank you-!” Gwyneth barely got the words in before trying to push her way into the dorms.

“What are you doing?!” Eva roared and shoved her back outside.

“Please- Y-You don’t understand. I need to get in I-” Gwyneth choked on her words. “Please, please, just let me in!”

“No way, you psycho!” Eva barred her from entering.

“Calm down, you’re hurting her,” Anna ran beside her and tugged on her shoulder.

“The hell I am! I’m just stopping her from getting through the door-'' Eva glanced at Gwyneth’s face. “Oh, it's you.”

Eva looked at Gwyneth’s wrists, faint bruise marks were beginning to form.

“Oh,” Eva’s frown grew annoyed.

“That’s why I told you to relax,” Anna pulled Eva behind her and looked at Gwyneth.

“Please let me in!” Gwyneth pleaded.

“Sure,” Anna grabbed her wrists gently. “But first we’re going to take care of this.”

“There’s no time I really have to-” Gwyneth said in between panicked breaths.

“There’s no option, either you come in and I help with the bruising or you don’t come in at all,” Anna gave her a stern look.

“O-Okay, but please hurry!” Gwyneth’s breathing relaxed before she exclaimed.

“I will,” Anna led her inside and behind the receptionist desk.

“Are you crazy? You’re going to take the person who tried to break into the dorms seriously?” Eva exclaimed.

“She wouldn’t be this panicked if it wasn’t for a good reason,” Anna sat Gwyneth down and looked for a first aid kit.

“Wow, I was spot on about that bleeding heart thing huh?” Eva groaned. “What if she’s here to cause trouble or stalk some helpless freshman girl?”

“You really think poorly of people you know,” Anna commented as she prepared an ice bag.

“I’m realistic,” Eva huffed.

“You’re paranoid. All I see is someone in need,” Anna kneeled in front of Gwyneth and pressed the ice bag against her wrist.

“And that’s all you need to be at their beck and call?” Eva sneered.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Anna glared at her.

Eva could only reply with an equally furious look.

“I-I’m not here to hurt anyone,” Gwyneth said meekly. “I’m here to- ah” She squeaked as Anna moved the ice bag to her other wrist.

“I’m worried about my friend, her name is Sophie,” Gwyneth said.

Eva tensed a little upon hearing Sophie’s name.

“What about your friend?” Eva grunted.

“I think she’s in trouble.” Gwyneth said sheepishly.

“No way,” Eva waved her hand dismissively. “The academy’s got security like a prison. If she was in trouble she would have been helped out by one of the Wardens.”

“I know, but I’ve called her so many times and she hasn’t responded once. She didn’t show up to our breakfast meet up and last night she seemed really worried about something,” Gwyneth said, her words growing more frantic.

“Well, maybe you’re just overthinking it,” Eva said apathetically.

“What’s your problem?” Anna glanced at her in a mix of anger and shock.

She turned towards Gwyneth and started wrapping bandages around her wrists. “Why are you so sure she’s in trouble?” Anna asked calmly.

“Sophie’s not like this. She always answers her calls, she's a polite and cheery person. She’s full of optimism and hope and she always does her best to help others. I’ve never seen her act so depressed before, so… docile. I just know something is wrong, it just doesn’t add up...” Gwyneth gazed at the floor.

“Pfft, talk about working off hunches,” Eva muttered.

“I agree,” Anna said as she finished tying her bandages.

“You do?!” Gwyneth and Eva said in unison, relief and surprise in their voice respectively.

“You know the people close to you better than I do. If you really think something is wrong, you should do something about it before you regret not doing anything at all,” Anna stood up and held out her hand. “And I’ll be here to help.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you soooooo much!” Gwyneth leaped up and hugged Anna tightly.

“Woah, okay, okay, I’m just glad I can help,” Anna chuckled. “She’s really soft.” She said towards Eva.

“And I care why?” Eva shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re helping her. What do you even want Gwy- uh... Girl?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Gwyneth let go of Anna. “My name’s Gwyneth, I’m a Sophomore.”

“I’m Anna, a Junior,” Anna replied.

“Eva, same,” Eva mumbled. “So what do you want?”

“I-” Gwyneth paused. “I was planning on visiting Sophie’s room and checking up on her.”

“What floor is she on?” Anna asked.

“Third floor, room 309,” Gwyneth replied.

“Cool, let’s go,” Anna grabbed the master key from behind the counter and headed up the stairs. “You coming, Grinch?” She asked Eva as she stopped on the first step.

“Screw you,” Eva spat before following suit.

. . .

The freshmen dorms were not the nicest on campus, mostly due to how old the building itself was. The steps led up to a view of the many hallways on each floor. Rows and rows of evenly spaced doors lined the walls. Occasional break and study rooms broke the monotony of the layout. Framed paintings of previous headmasters and photographs of the academy’s history dotted the free spaces on the wall. On the opposite end, stood an identical set of stairs leading into the floor below. Anna, Eva, and Gwyneth stepped into the third floor. Gwyneth walked ahead of them and led them to Sophie’s dorm.

“We’re here,” Anna stated as they stood in front of room 309.

Gwyneth stepped forward and knocked on the door.

“Sophie, are you there? It’s me, Gwen,” She called out.

There was no reply.

“Sophie?” She knocked again.

“She’s probably just asleep,” Eva commented.

“At six in the evening?” Anna raised a brow.

“You’d be surprised at how many people hit the hay early,” Eva yawned.

“She’s not answering,” Gwyneth turned towards them.

“Hmm, let me try,” Anna knocked on the door a little rougher than Gwyneth. “Sophie, are you in there?”

The door creaked open on her last knock.

“You broke it,” Eva scoffed.

“It just happened on its own,” Anna replied with a tinge of panic.

“Well, no use crying over it now,” Eva swung open the door and gestured for them to walk in. “After ya’ll.”

They all entered the room. Eva flicked on the light switch and the ceiling lamp hummed to a faint light. Comfy looking bed sheets sat as a messy pile on an unmade bed. The cabinets held half open drawers filled with thrown-about clothes. Makeup, perfume, accessories, and other knick-knacks once neatly organized on the shelves laid scattered across the floor. A torn apart sheet music book with ripped out pages leaned limply against a violin. Gwyneth’s gaze lingered on a corkboard that hung above her drawer. Pictures of Gwyneth and Sophie spending time together were pinned on to it. Dumb drawings that Gwyneth made in a silly attempt of explaining some of her favorite controversies were displayed like badges of honor. The letter she wrote for Sophie’s birthday was neatly held by tiny styrofoam stars. A calendar filled with pretty handwritten notes was to the left of all of that. “Dinner with Gwyneth, yay!” was circled in red marker.

“What a mess,” Eva murmured.

“It looks like someone tore up the place,” Anna said quietly.

“Sophie…” Gwyneth whimpered as she walked to the corkboard and traced her fingers over the memorabilia.

“We need to report this to the principal,” Anna said as she glanced at Gwyneth’s worried face.

“Agreed, the way this room is torn up is way too sketchy,” Eva let out a deep sigh. “The academy seems to be slipping in more ways than one.”

“That’s ominous,” Anna commented.

“Just saying, the schools vow of security ain’t looking so secure right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are other dorms where just about anybody can break into them,” Eva opened the closet. “We could have a real case for false advertising on our hands-” Eva’s words were snuffed into violent chokes.

A woman stepped out of the closet. Her dark gray colored eyes shone with a strange intensity. She held Eva by the neck, nearly lifting her off the ground. Gwyneth shrieked as she grabbed something to defend herself with. Anna hopped over the bed and slammed herself against the woman. The woman grunted in pain as she let go of Eva and struggled to keep her balance. Eva coughed in heavy breaths. The woman took a step forward ready to attack Anna, only to have a stapler thrown against her face by Gwyneth.

“You. Effing. Creep,” Eva yelled in a horse voice.

Eva kicked at the woman’s legs before she could retaliate and tripped her onto the ground. The woman fell with a hearty thud and her body went limp. Eva raised her foot to stomp her face but was stopped by Anna’s hand.

“What are you doing?! You’re going to kill her!” Anna screamed.

“Oh, do not make excuses for the panty stealing weirdo hiding in a sixteen year old’s closet- she deserved this!” Eva yelled back.

“But, she’s already knocked out!” Anna pushed her leg out of the way. “So, we stop!”

“Fine, Goldilocks. Have it your way, but I’m not helping you if she gets up and starts choke slamming you,” Eva rubbed her shin. “Damn, that hurt. Her legs felt like they were made out of steel.”

“W-Who is she anyways and where did you two learn to fight like that?“ Gwyneth asked.

“I kinda just threw myself at her,” Anna said matter-of-factly.

“Kickboxing is a hobby,” Eva replied. “As for the mystery woman…” Eva took out her phone and turned on its flashlight.

The light shone over the face of a Warden. The three of them stared in silence as the realization dawned upon them.

“We are so screwed,” Eva murmured with a deathly serious tone.

“WE KNOCKED A WARDEN UNCONSCIOUS?!” Gwyneth screamed.

“Shut up!” Eva put her hand over Gwyneth’s mouth. “Do you want the whole dorm to know?!”

“I-It’s fine, we can just explain to the principal what happened. T-That this was all just one big misunderstanding,” Anna said in a slightly shaky voice as she sat the Warden up as best as she could

“Oh yeah, sure, and she can kindly explain how many years in prison we’re gonna serve for assaulting a freaking police officer,” Eva gave a panicked chuckle.

“I don’t want to go to jail,” Gwyneth whimpered.

“No effing dur, girly,” Eva commented.

“Calm down, both of you. Worse comes to worst I can just-” Anna started before being cut off by the sound of a radio.

“Warden 06, can you hear me?” A staticky voice called from the Warden’s breast pocket.

Anna, Eva, and Gwyneth looked at each other. Gwyneth gestured to Anna to give her the radio. Anna tossed into her hands and she began to fiddle with it. After a few seconds she held the button to reply. White noise poured out of the radio.

“Warden 06, there seems to be some interference on your end. Do you read me?” The voice asked again.

Gwyneth tilted the radio downwards. The white noise became more chaotic.

“Warden 06, do you read-” The voice got cut off before changing into a deeper, colder, voice. “Warden 06, you are to cease your search of the target’s dorm. We have narrowed down the location of Sophie Dives to the auditorium. Rendezvous there ASAP. Failure to do so will be met with severe punishment.”

The radio went completely silent. Gwyneth took out the batteries and took a shaky breath.

“Sophie’s in the auditorium?” Gwyneth whispered.

“From the sound of it, it looks like they were trying to keep it a secret too,” Eva commented.

“I knew it,” Anna muttered.

“What?” Gwyneth asked.

“Last night, when I was cleaning up the auditorium I heard a scream. I tried to follow it, but by the time I got to the theater all I found was a bracelet with Sophie’s name on the back of it,” Anna stood up. “I think something happened to her.”

“Why didn’t you bring this up before?” Gwyneth frowned.

“Because I thought it was just a coincidence,“ Anna’s face softened. “We have to tell Dr. Ward, if she knows that the Warden’s are acting out of line she might be able to stop them.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but the Warden’s are on the CCPD’s payroll- not the headmaster’s. I doubt they give two craps about what she wants,” Eva said.

“What other option do we have then?” Anna asked.

“We have to go and help her ourselves,” Gwyneth said with a serious tone.

“Are you crazy? She’s being hunted down by the Wardens right now, y’know like actual highly trained cops. On top of that, they’re on high alert, if they find us they’ll rip us to shreds,” Eva furrowed her brow.

“Not exactly,” Gwyneth turned towards her. “I’ve heard rumors that because of all the curfew violations yesterday the headmaster is pissed off at all the Wardens. She wants to make sure that not a single student misses it tonight. Me thinks- I think that they won’t head to the auditorium until after curfew. It gives us some time to break in.”

“You really believe those stupid overblown rumors? Give me a break, they’ll have Wardens posted all over the auditorium,” Eva groaned.

Anna walked to the curtains and opened them up. A view of the auditorium bathed in the light of the setting sun appeared with not a single soul in sight.

“Are you sure about that?” Anna said with a tiny jeer.

“Screw you,” Eva looked away and scratched her head.

“We don't have much time," Anna looked at her phone. "Curfews in three hours. If we're going to help Sophie, we should move now."

"You're still going to help?" Gwyneth asked.

"Of course, it doesn't sit well with me to stay still when someone needs help. Besides, who knows what the Wardens will do to her if one of them was ready to strangle us to death," Anna explained.

"Thank you," Gwyneth said quietly

Anna and Gwyneth looked at Eva who thought in silence. After a few moments she spoke.

"I wouldn't go as far as to say that she's in danger, but yeah, the sooner we find her the better," Eva said curtly.

"I really thought you would say no," Gwyneth said with a slightly stunned face.

"Don't act like you know how I think," Eva scoffed.

"Well, we better head out then. Let's go close up the receptionist's booth first," Anna said as she walked out of the dorm.

"Ever the worrywart," Eva grumbled.

. . .

Day began to bleed into night by the time they arrived at the auditorium. The weathered down entrance was chained and locked shut by a simple key lock.

“They locked it,” Anna stated bluntly.

“I guess this really means that Sophie is in here,” Gwyneth said with a worried face.

“Well she won’t be trapped here for long,” Eva said as she took out some of the bobby pins that held up her hair and kneeled beside the floor.

“What are you doing?” Gwyneth asked.

“Picking the lock, duh,” Eva replied as she started unlocking the door and blew some of her loose hair out of her face.

“Where did you learn that?” Anna asked.

“Would you believe me if I said daycare?” Eva turned around with a smirk as the lock clicked open. “We’re in.”

“Follow me,” Anna walked into the auditorium and towards the theater.

The work lights from the day before stood in the exact same spot. Anna turned them on, lighting the auditorium with a musty light. The three walked at a brisk pace while still scanning each room they came across, before turning towards the theater. Anna opened the door and looked at the rows of dimly lit seats.

“The only place I didn’t check yesterday was backstage,” Anna said as she made her way down the stairs and climbed onto the stage.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Eva muttered as she read the scratches on the podium.

Anna walked in between the curtains and into the dark backstage. She turned on her flashlight. Old props and backgrounds littered the floor. Rusting clothing racks filled with forgotten costumes loitered throughout the backstage. A large grandfather clock leaned against boxes stacked up high. The word “John” was painted onto it, it’s time was stuck at 3:13 PM.

“Wow, it's a whole lot of nothing,” Eva said loudly as she leaned against the grandfather clock.

“We at least have to try to look for her,” Anna said as she started searching the mess.

“But, there really is nothing here, Anna,” Gwyneth said sadly.

“We don’t have much time left either,” Eva glanced at her watch. “We should just head back and try again tomorrow before they catch us and we can’t try at all,” She looked at Anna, her long hair fluttering slightly in a soft breeze.

“Yeah... good idea,” Anna said with a slightly dejected tone before turning towards Eva. “What’s wrong with your hair?” Anna asked suddenly.

“What? I was too lazy to tie it back up after picking the lock,” Eva replied dismissively.

“No, why is it moving,” Anna asked again before walking towards the grandfather clock herself.

She felt around it looking for the source of the breeze. Eventually she found a small crack in the wall. Cold air trickled out of it slowly.

“Help me move this thing,” Anna said towards Eva and Gwyneth as she started trying to move the grandfather clock out of the way.

“This is heavy,” Gwyneth panted as she pushed as hard as she could.

“Just push,” Eva commented as she led the clock onto the floor. “Now what?” Eva asked Anna.

Anna picked up a broken off leg of a chair from the floor and smashed it against the crack. The wall crumbed into wet clumps of drywall that revealed the entrance to a tunnel.

“A tunnel?” Anna murmured.

“You are amazing at breaking things, y’know that,” Eva said blankly.

“D-Do you think that Sophie could be in there?” Anxiety lumped in Gwyneth’s voice.

“If this was a horror movie, sure, but to me that just looks like an effing death trap,” Eva shifted uncomfortably.

“We have to check,” Anna took a deep breath before stepping inside.

“Are you crazy?!” Eva grabbed her arm. “We have no idea where that leads, if there’s anything even in there or if there’s even a way out.”

“Where else could she be if the Wardens couldn’t even find her?” Anna tugged her arm away from Eva’s grasp.

“I don’t know, but I’m not gonna risk my life to find out,” Eva crossed her arms.

Anna’s breaths stiffened. She glared at Eva who returned the gesture.

“I-” Anna opened her mouth before being interrupted by the muffled echo of classical music.

“Nocturne op.9 No.2, Sophie’s favorite song. She set it as her ringtone…” Anna and Eva turned to face Gwyneth.

She clutched her phone close to her, she had dialed Sophie’s number while they were arguing.

Eva looked into the tunnel. Its jagged walls seemed like they were cut into the building itself. Drops of a mysterious liquid fell onto the floor with an unnerving pitter-patter. The end of the tunnel remained a mystery as it curved into an unknown depth.

“Still not doing it,” Eva swallowed nervously.

“Fine, you can stay out here. I’m going,” Anna steeled herself as she turned on her flashlight.

“Me too-” Gwyneth said as she took a step forward.

Her voice skipped into a shriek of terror. Anna and Eva turned around to see Caroline holding Gwyneth up by her hair.

“Warden 06 was right, there were some rats in the theater after all,” Caroline leered.

Anna sprinted past Eva and tried to help Gwyneth only to get kicked in the stomach. She fell onto the floor and curled up into a ball as she clutched her burning stomach.

“Let me go!” Gwyneth shrieked and tried to kick herself free.

Caroline swiftly jabbed her in the abdomen before dropping her. Gwyneth gasped as air escaped her lungs.

“And you?” Caroline turned towards Eva, her eyes glowing an ethereal dark green.

Eva looked at Anna and Gwyneth whimpering on the floor. Her face hardened.

“They didn’t deserve that,” Eva grit her teeth as she raised her fists.

“Hmm,” Caroline stepped over the two and towards Eva with her hands behind her back. “But Miss Sophie did?”

“Don’t act like you know everything, you crap shoveling pig!” Eva yelled as she jabbed at Caroline.

Caroline caught her first and pulled her close before headbutting her. The strength of the blow forced Eva onto her knees.

“Oh, Eva,” Caroline said in a condescending tone and got closer to her. “We know everything,” She whispered.

Caroline pulled back her fist. Eva sluggishly looked upwards, unable to move. She closed her eyes as Caroline swung at her face.

"You’re not hurting her anymore," Anna's shaky voice said.

Eva opened her eyes to see Anna holding Caroline's shoulder back to stop her from punching her.

"How persistent," Caroline said in an unamused tone as she elbowed Anna in her side.

To her surprise Anna didn't budge.

"You have no idea," Anna grunted as she stomped on the back of Caroline's knee.

Caroline hollorred in pain as she crumbled onto her knees.

"Take Gwyneth into the tunnel!" Anna screamed, struggling to hold Caroline down.

Eva looked at Anna stunned at how much she was fighting back. She groggily stood onto her feet.

"Hurry up and go!" Anna yelled again.

Eva's face burned into a furious frown. She closed her fist and grit her teeth before punching Caroline’s face with the full force of her body.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Eva roared as her fist collided with Caroline.

Anna let go of Caroline with barely enough time to evade the blow. Caroline held her bloodied nose as she struggled to move.

"Come on, Goldilocks," Eva said as she leaned Gwyneth on her shoulder.

Anna quickly grabbed Gwyneth's other shoulder. The two limped into the tunnel as fast as they could. Waves of frigid air poured out of the cracks of the tunnel as it curved deeper and deeper into darkness. The ground under their feet morphed from concrete to something squishy and wet. A sense of dread creeped down Anna's neck as the air became thinner. Sophie's ringtone distorted and echoed into noise before suddenly extinguishing into a deafening silence.

"Eva, can you see anything?" Anna asked loudly, her voice reverberating in her ears.

"I can't see shi-" Eva yelled in reply before suddenly screaming out of panic.

Anna felt the ground underneath her crumble into nothing. Her screams echoed endlessly as she plunged into absolute darkness.

#oc #ow #writing #mystery #thriller #horror #action #anime inspired #female protagonist #heartfelt #cw violence #cw injury #I wrote Caroline as Coraline like 24 times in the rough draft. I blame Neil Gaiman

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kariachi · 4 years

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Was watching a thing involving Coming of Age matters in cultures, and so of course started thinking about them in the ones I’ve been working on. Some are already done just through the work I’ve already put in- Og!Osmosians’ coming of age is tied to their being formally apprenticed and normally involves a bit of a celebration with gifts and ceremonial scarrification and tattoos relating to their apprenticeship, Erinaens’ are more lowkey goodbyes to their larger childhood families as they move out to live in their adult families again often with gifts to get them started, and with Perison boys it’s when they say goodbye to their families and are escorted by their fathers and grandfathers out to join one of the caravans stopped in their area. But others aren’t, so I’m going to put them here.

The video spoke of a tendency, in cultures where men and women are distinct... things, for boys’ coming of age to be a matter of leaving and then returning (for example, with the Perison above, boys leave their families and eventually return to the cities to start families of their own) while girls’ tends to involve being sequestered and then emerging (the example the video used was a butterfly, which sequesters itself in its cocoon and then emerges as an adult). I’m going to go with something along the latter lines for these.

Babo!Osmosians are easy, sort’ve, having only one sex. Coming of age is at their eighth Osmosian year, and the entrance into adulthood is marked by the entrance into adult circles at interclan/pack gatherings. Children are expected not to communicate with adults outside of their clan or pack outside of emergencies, so large events and get togethers are divided into children’s circles and adults’ circles. For the first get together after one reaches adulthood, new adults are given large, loud bangles to wear on their legs. The sound of these bangles signifies a new adult and allows them to join the adult circles at the event. These bangles are only worn once by each individual, and are passed down through clans and the sounds produced are unique to each clan. Very few remain from before The Hunting, but the clans that do have them take great pride in the ancient sound.

Perison girls, meanwhile, are a little more intense. In urban areas, families often lay claim to large chunks of the city that are only permanently inhabited by members of the extended family. Think of cities as family compounds that expand until they lack resources to expand further or they run into another family compound on a border. Children of school age never leave their family’s neighborhood (and children under it only do so when accompanying a parent on a shopping foray or some such), receiving all their schooling and healthcare in the neighborhood, from people who are related to them through blood or marriage. But adults often leave the neighborhood, to shop or to work, and so a girl’s coming of age is directly tied to their leaving their neighborhood and being able to wander the city freely. Once a girl has completed her education, whatever that may be, her mother, aunts, grandmother, great aunts, and adult sisters take her on a shopping and eating tour through the other neighborhoods of the city, making sure to hit the territory of each family in the city as they go. She’ll wear a special hooded tunic and pair of pants that she’s embroidered herself over the past several years, starting when she has her first growth spurt. These clothes are often ill-fitting, being made long before one is fully grown based on the measurements of one’s parents and other adult relatives, which is said to represent the awkwardness of transition to adulthood.

Trans women among the Perison typically are made their tunic and pants by their caravan, and wear them to the first gathering of caravans they feel comfortable doing so.

Smaller communities, like town and villages, often only consist of one family, and so their coming of age traditions have little in common with the urban ones. They’re also highly variable, and after there’s little similarity between the traditions of towns even relatively close to one another.

#the babo project #perison

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aredheleravenwing · 4 years

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Betrayal | A Filthy Thorn Lined Love Story

Nivathostin gently swirled his drink around after taking the first sip. He gazed into the whiskey as if it held the words he was seeking, but the depth of the glass wasn’t deep enough to reveal any answers to him. Instead, he was left with shallow feelings that he dreaded to dwell upon.

“I often wonder what you would do if I treated others the way that you treat them. Acting as if everyone should look upon me as some sort of god -- a god who could hold a wife in one arm and a nameless lover in the other while not a single person batted an eye. A god who demanded that everyone bow before me and kiss me in the streets.” He quirked a brow at Aredhele, and his gaze was so demanding yet horribly calm in contrast.

“Would you like that? Perhaps I should walk around with my foot around others’ throats from now on.” (written by Niva’s player, followed by my writing below)

Ared had a sudden twist of emotion and she dumps her drink on the floor. The liquor splattered all over her gown and it sopped up some of its fight as it made its way to soak into the floorboards. Turning the glass upside down, she sets it on the nightstand where her gold bangles and rings accidentally flew to the floor.

“Suddenly I am not thirsty.” Closing her eyes, she couldn’t conceal the fact that his words hurt. They gutted her. Instantly she felt sick and when she opens her eyes, she stared at the ceiling.

“This was the life I was given. Whoever wants to play a god is a fool. I can tell you, it is much harder than it looks. Niva, I am sorry I love you, and my greed knows no bounds.”

Niva had every right to be angry. He usually always did. Regardless of the love they shared, it was a love born of deception and she was familiar with this unforgivable betrayal.

Vynlorin taught her a decade ago that prayer is the sweetest consolation to wicked scoundrels that abuse the sanctity of union. After every depraved night they spent together, she reawakened with promise renewed. Every morning she swore she will never engage in debauchery during the wanton hours with that man again. Hours later, she erased her guilt from memory and went back to his chamber where he abused her in every conceivable way. He rutted her to extreme degrees and offended every orifice. In dark corridors, Ared worshipped Vyn undisturbed in the imposing silence of the night, where so many years before, she only adored him from afar.

It was not her fault that nature reduced her to the level of wild beasts. If only he didn’t offer her smothering pleasure in abundance. But, he did, and she lowered herself to the title of a liar and sneak. She reduced herself to being the scum of the earth, lying again and again basked in the filth of her rotted perversions.

No amount of shame or rumor stopped them. The ceremony constantly repeated, sparing no effort as they rekindled their desires in this damning affair with every daunting careless thrust. Oh how she adored his sweet kisses when he defiled and fondled her in the bedchamber of her betrothed. And in return for his love, she promised him she would never leave and she truly meant every word that she said, until she left. Unbeknown to him, she took with her the gift of life, and killed it much the same when she left for the Void and the twisted abyss destroyed his heir.

Life offers so many thorned lined choices to innocent creatures. That is how a man can become so cruel to disturb every oath to his longest friend and lord. That is how a man could love a married woman, and steal her from other lover’s arms.

“I’m as selfish as you are,” Niva muttered as his elbow found the footboard to support him while his hand curled tighter around the back of her neck.

“No, you could never be more selfish than me.”

#nivaTHOTstin #Vyn doesn't have a tumblr #GUY FIERI inspo #void elves #void elf #ren'dorei #rendorei #World of Warcraft #wow rp #Wyrmrest Accord #Wyrmrest roleplay #Wyrmrest Alliance #world of warcraft rp

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sikhweddingblogs-blog · 4 years

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Punjabi Hindu Weddings: Pre-wedding traditions

Roka and Thaka This ritual is the very first inside a long set of traditions. In the beginning called Roka or Rokna, the family associated with the bride visits the family home of the particular groom with a lot of gifts. The new bride is usually not present that day.

This visit is usually then reciprocated with the groom’s family and they visit the house of the bride. They bring a great deal of gifts like dry fruits, sweets and savories, jewelries, money, et 's. The couple is recognized as in order to be officially engaged and they are made to sit collectively and showered with presents called shagun or sagan. Also, they are fed laddu. This particular return ceremony is identified as Thaka.

This wedding ceremony has always been the low-key affair and was at first treated as the date on which the 2 families decided to set up a relationship and fix the particular date of the wedding ceremony. But nowadays, Roka plus Thaka are not arranged separately. Depending on the convenience of both the families plus availability of the crucial members from both edges, one ceremony is with each other organized.

This ritual usually begins with a small puja or prayer called ardaas to ask for the particular blessings of God to be able to secure his blessings and support and consecrate the start of the journey.

Chunni Wedding ceremony Chunni ceremony marks the state engagement of the to-be-weds. Usually the family people of the groom check out the family of the particular bride with gifts. A red colored outfit such as a sari or a lehenga-choli is gifted in order to the bride. She is also gifted a mind scarf called chunni.

The particular family members of the particular groom also bring jewelries like bangles for that bride-to-be and also traditional candy like meva, michri, along with mehendi (henna), a sort of dye to be used on the hands and feet of the bride. These types of are considered to end up being gifts to the bride-to-be coming from the mom of the groom since a token of recognition of her as the fiancée of the bridegroom.

Sagaai or Engagement Often on the same day time as the chunni chadhai ceremony, sagaai or engagement ceremony takes place. The particular bride and the bridegroom exchange rings surrounded simply by their good friends and family members members, thus officially getting accepted to the opposing family. Unlike western wedding ceremonies, no marriage vows or vows of love are usually exchanged. Some families think about the exchange of rings because the final mark of approval of the bride arriving into the family of the groom and vice versa.

Mehendi Ceremony (Henna) Mehendi is an indispensable part of most Indian weddings, that is hard to miss. This is one ceremony which usually every Indian woman – married or unmarried, adore. Usually mehendi artists come to the house from the bride a day or even two prior to your day associated with the wedding. They produce intricate designs with mehendi on the palm of the hands and foot of the bride. The particular designs are mind blowing. The friends and sisters associated with the bride also obtain the gesture extended in order to them. All those things the artist and everybody else, ensures is usually that the designs upon others do not appear to be more lavish than those made around the body of the new bride.

Ladies’ Sangeet Often on the same evening, a ladies’ Sangeet is organized where ladies near to the particular bride sing and dancing. It is nothing but a musical extravaganza. It is very similar to the particular bachelorette party or hen’s party organized on the western part of the country in order to celebrate the last night time of the bride since a spinster. The ladies sing, dance, play music instruments such as the dhol plus also tease the new bride.

The bangles are filtered in a liquid mixture containing milk and increased petals. The mama needs to put the bangles upon the wrist of the particular bride. But the head and face of the particular bride is covered along with a white scarf in that time as she is not supposed to observe the bangles at the particular time when it is put on her wrists. At the time associated with the ritual, flower padding are showered on the bride.

Haldi wedding ceremony This ceremony takes place within the morning of the wedding. The bride is sat down facing four lights or diyas. This practice is pretty symbolic. It is usually believed that the light emanating from the diyas might always keep the shine or the radiance upon the face of the particular bride. The female people of the house would then apply a insert of turmeric, sandalwood, rosewater and mustard oil on the visible areas of the body associated with the bride. This insert acts like a clean or cleansing agent plus gives a shine in order to the face and fingers of the bride.

This more or less finishes the pre-wedding rituals. Since the groom and his retinue are on their way, the bride is obtaining ready too. She would wear a heavily embroidered saree or even a crystal encrusted lehenga with choli. Three or even four heavy necklaces, the gold or precious stone nose ring, anklets and coordinating earrings complete the looks of the bride. She actually is also given a correct bridal make-up by the professional make-up artist and also a nice hairdo by a stylist. . In order to know more details visit here: Hindu Punjabi wedding

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 years

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The Fox and the Toad (Femslash February)

Prompt: Gold Fandom: Avatar Pair: AzulaxZirin Song Rec(s): Avantasia’s Moonglow & Florence + The Machine’s Only If For A Night

Summary: Cinderella AU. Zirin sneaks off to a masquerade where she runs into Azula.

They didn’t exactly hate her. They weren’t exactly cruel. But the family had only adopted her to acquire themselves a less pricey servant. She supposed that she should be thankful that they paid her at all, legally they didn’t have to. Indeed, they were a safe distance away from cruel but they still denied her a chance to go with them on family outings and to attend more luxurious events.

Perhaps it was wrong to steal finery, dress herself up in it, and go to the ball. But then, much of the upper class never had any regard for Zirin so why should she have any for them? Whoever owned the dress could probably pay for ten more to replace it. So she slipped in to silk of a deep forest green. It wasn’t exactly her style her sleeves and the train of the dress dragged ridiculously long. And it had far too many emeralds all clustered at chest level. But she wanted to go to that ball so she would take what she could get. She would probably be the only gust there who didn’t have any jewelry. At the very least she needed a mask, it was, afterall, a masquerade. She shuffled around her mistress’ crate, at last she found something that would work. The mask is shaped like two squirrel-toads angled so that their heads touched and their bodies made for the eye slants. It was relatively simple and in a more vivid green than her dress, but she didn’t have any other options. She hustled away from the scene of the crime and rushed to the palace. The night was still young but she only had until midnight before she’d have to beat her adoptive family home. She had gotten the majority of the housework out of the way so, she supposed that they couldn’t get too angry with her so long as she returned the dress to whichever one of their guests owned it.

The palace was as splendid as she had heard. A towering building with many tiers and golden trimmed roof tiles. She took a deep breath, maybe she should turn around. She pushed her reluctance to the side and shimmied her way through the crowd.

And a lovely crowd it was; so much glitter and glitz. A whole rainbow spectrum of pretty and delicate gauze gowns. Lace and silk. Satin and velvet. The attire ranged from wholly opaque to nearly translucent. But each was elaborate in its own way.

And the masks. Those were the true spectacles, some were very clearly homemade. Others were forged from expensive shops. She spied a deer-dog with horns of polished ivory etched with intricate swirls. She noticed a rabaroo mask crafted pieced together by shards of diamond and glass. There was a wolf-bat mask covered in silk with black lace and a scatter of obsidian. Everywhere she looked was a new spectacle to behold. She smiled wide, it was overwhelmingly glorious.

The decor was eye catching as well, golden faux trees decorated the corners with glittering branches. Smaller versions gleamed on tables with silk red table cloths. Strings of ruby and topaz dripped from the ceiling and twirled around bamboo sticks. Paper lanterns glowed warmly overhead depicting things of the spirit world. The palace had been decorated to look like a forest. A magical spirit world forest.

Caught up in the splendor, Zirin took a step back. A step that had her colliding with another guest. The woman wore a bright red cheongsam gown, that hugged very tightly to a small form. Zirin was almost certain that the fox-lions and lotus flowers embroidered on it were made of real gold, or at least a touch of it. Her jewelry was certainly genuine. Long and thin bars of gold dropped from her ears ending with tiny rubies. A matching chain decorated her neck. Her arms were covered in golden bangles, one of which took the shape of a curling dragon. Another took the form of a curling fox-lion. Such was the make of her mask. A gleaming golden fox with criss-cross patterns etched in. Melted ruby filled the etches. A cascade of golden coins fell from either side of the mask. Matching the drip of her red-dyed lotus kanzashi. Her bear arms were a mural too, of shimmering, sparkling gold body paint. It had flares of red and orange to look like fire.

An elegant lady she was.

Zirin’s cheeks colored for having bumped into her so rudely.

She sputtered a jumbled apology.

“You should be.” The woman replied smoothly. “I take it, this is your first masquerade?”

Zirin nodded. “How’d you guess?”

“No one looks at the decorations for that long.” She shrugged.

“Got any pointers for new attendees?” Zirin asked with a lopsided smile.

The woman nodded. “Don’t ram yourself into royalty. Especially on their birthday ceremony.”

Zirin made a noise, it was indistinguishable, of the surprised brand. She fought for some sort of tangible response. One that wouldn’t leave her sounding like the peasant she was. All she could come up with was a horribly embarrassing, “happy birthday, princess.”

She could hear the eyeroll in Azula’s sigh. She thought that the princess must have been in a good mood that night because she mutters, “second piece of advice, learn to speak eloquently. If you’re going to invade a party, at least pretend like you know what you’re doing.”

“I! I was invited!”

“Yes.” Azula agreed. “You invited yourself. Stop acting like it, and pretend like someone important invited you.”

Zirin blinked at the blunt remark. Her jaw must have been askew because the princess laughed. She held out a hand glimmering with ruby and gold rings. Zirin wasn’t sure if she was supposed to take it or not, hesitantly her fingers curled around Azula’s.

“If you’re going to crash a masquerade, you should know how to dance at a masquerade.” She guided Zirin through an elegant spin, one that ended in the princess holding her close. She had never been so close to anyone in her life. She can smell the princess’ perfume. Beneath it is a tinge of smoke, the scent that ought to cling to any notable firebender. Azula took Zirin through a few more moves, before tsking to herself. “It’s a shame. You might have been a skilled dancer if you weren’t a peasant.”

“I’m not--” Zirin started.

“Fourth piece of advice. At least try to bathe yourself before attending a high-class event.”

Her cheeks reddened. This princess was going to drive her insane. A devious smile tugged at the woman’s lips. She took Zirin into a new dance. A faster one. “You could have stolen some jewelry too.” The princess noted nonchalantly.

Zirin was feeling rather gutsy. “Your necklace might match my dress.”

Azula hummed. “Perhaps as well as that mask matches it.”

“It was the only thing I could find.”

“Naturally.” Azula cooed.

.oOo.

The peasant girl was rather intriguing, Azula had to admit. She wouldn’t give her name or anything about herself. Azula supposed that she wasn’t as dull as she had initially thought. She hadn’t exactly planned on spending her birthday sitting with a peasant under the moonlight and by the pond in her courtyard. She had expected, more or less, what happened every year; a dance or two with a noble and an elaborate dinner followed by opening the opulent gifts her father sought to give her.

This was something else.

This was new.

This was exciting in an almost forbidden way.

The girl prattled on and on about mundane peasant things. She was entirely lucky that she hadn’t tried this conversation with someone else. She would have been arrested in a heartbeat. But somehow, Azula didn’t mind the peasant babble. In fact she rather enjoyed the tall-tale about the milkmaid and the dragon. It must have been a word of the mouth story, because Azula had never read anything like it in the palace library.

She caught the girl peering at the sundial. It was perhaps only a few strokes away from midnight. Azula was feeling rather bold. She took the girl’s face and turned it away from the sundial and towards herself. With only a fleeting moment of hesitation she kissed the girl in the squirrel-toad mask.

“Neat.” The girl remarked.

Azula rolled her eyes. She didn’t know why she had expected a more surprised or perhaps allured reaction.

“You’re drunk.” The girl accused with a sly smirk.

“I had one glass.” Azula assured her. It was a lie. She had at least three. Perhaps her head was a little foggy, but she wasn’t drunk. Not yet anyhow.

“Must have been a damn big glass.” The peasant replied with a barking laugh.

“What makes you say so?”

“You’re out here with me, ‘stead of in there with the rest of the fancy people.”

It was a fair point so she simply shrugged it off. The peasant glanced at the sundial again.

“Looks like it’s time for me to take off.” The girl noted. “Happy birthday, princess.” She offered a clumsy bow and darted out of the garden. Azula wouldn’t give chase, not for a peasant. And besides, the fool had gotten her gown tangled in a branch.

Tore a good piece of it off.

If she could track the Avatar down, she could find a peasant.

#femslashfeb2019 #Avatar #Azula #Zirin #Azula/Zirin #Fanfiction

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stagevalencia7 · 2 years

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And we use the premium high quality product for such detailing. wikipedia belt Kundan necklace and earring units are one of the best choices to gift to any marriage ceremony event. The bride of contemporary India likes to match Kundan necklace with other Kundan jewelry like earrings, tikka, rings and so forth. We do not overlook the root-tradition of traditional jewellery. And our jewellery experts create such lovely sustaining the principle tradition of Indian jewelry. phoenet.tw replica designer belts Whatever be the category of ornaments, we preserve an Indian streak in each design. In Bhutan there is a traditional nationwide gown prescribed for men and women, together with the monarchy. These have been in vogue for thousands of years and have developed into a particular costume fashion. The gown worn by males is known as Gho which is a gown worn up to knee-size and is fixed at the waist by a band referred to as the Kera. Notable costume designers embrace recipients of the Academy Award for Best Costume Design, Tony Award for Best Costume Design, and Drama Desk Award for Outstanding Costume Design. Edith Head and Orry-Kelly, both of whom were born late in 1897, were two of Hollywood's most notable costume designers. These costume wearers typically interact to create a subculture centered on position play, so they can be seen most often in play groups, or at a gathering or conference. A important number of these costumes are selfmade and unique, and depend on the character, idea, or object the costume wearer is making an attempt to mimic or characterize. The costumes themselves are sometimes artistically judged to how properly they characterize the topic or object that the costume wearer is attempting to contrive. We are into B2B Business, so we follow solely wholesale business concept & Our We do export of imitation jewellery from our B2B web site. You can return any merchandise bought on-line inside 14 days of the supply date. Also notice that genuine Louboutin shoes come in half sizes and can show the European measurement number on the only, whereas replicas typically solely are available in full sizes because they’re cheaper to manufacture. Gucci belts are all the fad now, which suggests more fakes are available on the market than ever before. Our objective is to make sure that you'll be proud to hold our replica bags, purses, and wallets. We take excessive care when designing and manufacturing each bag at our factory to make it as near the authentic bag as possible. Only a number of style jewelry has westernized designs to satisfy the requirements of the purchasers. Traditional jewelry also known as Indian Fashion Jewellery or Ethnic Jewellery. We admire the standard jewelry designs as proven by the ancestors of India. Kanhai Jewels worked for years to domesticate the wealthy collections of such beautiful traditional jewelry. Each of the categories has a full choice of all kinds of essential trend imitation jewelry. Each category represents a unique culture of fashion jewellery and ethnic / traditional jewelry as well. The most popular plating is gold plating and silver plating. Apart from these, there are rhodium plating, copper plating, Mehendi plating, oxidized plating and so forth. Kanhai Jewels online artificial jewelry store sell all types of Traditional Jewellery units. It means you will get matching earrings, necklace, magalsutra and bangles units so that you needn't discover it wherever else. And the patterns we comply with are the best factor that made us stand on this platform in the Indian jewellery industry. The most simple designs are produced to indicate standing, provide safety or modesty, or provide visible curiosity to a personality. Costumes may be for, however not restricted to, theater, cinema, or musical performances. Costume design ought to not be confused with costume coordination, which merely entails altering current clothes, though both processes are used to create stage garments. Our premium bags offer an ample vary of merchandise and variants to fit your needs at best. Kanhai Jewels team of customer care executives are all the time there that will help you for clearing doubts of Imitation Jewellery purchasing. We have an excellent team of jewellery consultants who can design your preferred designs of Kundan Jewellery. You will get the custom-made necklace, earrings, bridal jewelry sets, pendant sets and many extra things right here. We have many types of plating for our Artificial Jewellery sets.

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ereturngifts · 7 months

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https://www.ereturngifts.com/gift/5-inches-multicolor-round-brass-metal-lotus-diya-for-diwali-decoration/

5 Inches Multicolor Round Brass Metal Lotus Diya for Diwali Decoration for Diwali for gift use, Festivals/Functions/Corporate/Wedding/Housewarming/Return Gift and home use for all Occasions. 5 Inches Multicolor Round Brass Metal Lotus Diya for Diwali Decoration for Diwali Set for Festival, Function, Wedding Occasions for Lighting Decoration at Home, Office & Temples.

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athulyaaindia · 2 years

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Best Return Gifts to Be Considered That Should Be Given on Different Occasions

Innovation has not eliminated longstanding customs, for example, the act of giving 'return gifts' to show appreciation to visitors. Families and companions get to partake in a badge of appreciation from birthday celebrants, grooms and ladies, and those praising the acquisition of new homes. Assuming you are on the chase after reasonable, conventional, yet popular gift parts of give your visitors on your next party, here are probably the best return gifts you can consider for various events.

Vehicle Latkhan Ganesh Kalash For Your Birthday Bash

An up-to-date decoration bearing an image of the god Ganesha and a Kalash makes a significant return gift for loved ones commending your natal day. It is an ideal present as the Ganesh and Kalash imagery rises above various strict factions and geological districts, making it a well known badge of appreciation. The gift is intended to safeguard travel as it tends to be hung in vehicles, yet it can likewise be a defender of homes.

Elephant Kumkum Box As Wedding Return Gift

You can likewise purchase return presents in Hyderabad in the event that you really want delightful wedding favors. Weddings in India are sacrosanct local area binding together festivals, and it is just fitting that you give gifts that are a consecrated image of the Indian people group that addresses fortune and life span. One of the fascinating and invigorating return gifts you can share is an elephant kumkum wedding box. It is both significant and wonderful and helpful for the visitors, whether they be of Indian drop or from another culture and country. It can store your kumkum powder and other conventional Indian things or different things like your adornments in a lovely box.

Drifting Floral Diya For Housewarming Celebration

You would never turn out badly with blossoms since this is among the very much valued widespread gifts. While they are extremely appealing and good looking, blossoms are additionally a major piece of religion and custom in many societies and nations. India is the same and one insightful return gift for a housewarming is a drifting botanical Diya. With a Diya, you'll offer your loved ones home with an endowment of light encircled with vivid vegetations.

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krazyshoppy · 2 years

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mark6fbroochesqz · 2 years

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Hailey Bieber And Gal Gadot Model Tiffany’s New Knot Collection - Charm Bracelets For Girlfriend

Hailey Bieber and Gal Gadot glowed as they confirmed off new selections from Tiffany's & Co. on-line Wednesday. Oozing All American glamour, Mrs. Bieber, 24, gazed on the digital camera carrying a platinum bracelet, sparkling ring, and diamond necklace along with a striped rugby tee and baggy blue jeans. The fashionistas went with classic fashion whereas modeling the 'Delicate but powerful' items from the heritage jewellery firm's new knot assortment. Later the mannequin hopped on Instagram to point out one of the items Tiffany's had gifted her. She leaned one arm on the steering wheel of a car whereas tilting her head to the facet to reveal her radiant pores and skin and a piercing stare. The yellow gold Double Row Hinged Bangle - which costs $6900 - glittered whereas hanging from her wrist in a casual selfie. Hailey has quite the particular connection to Tiffany's, who crafted her and husband Justin Bieber's wedding rings. Meanwhile, Gal appeared vacation-chic as she posed on a balcony in entrance of a row of palm bushes and shot a smile to the aspect whereas donning diamonds and gold from Tiffany. The blonde beauty went with a stack of 18 karat gold Tiffany Soleste band ring with diamonds that retails for $3,125 and the Tiffany Soleste 18 karat V ring (additionally with diamonds) for $2,150. And Gal is quite the fan of the corporate as nicely. Justin matched his spouse wearing an 18K gold Tiffany Classic marriage ceremony band ring that prices $950. The bi-colour zoisite center stone is such a unique coloration which you can easily get lost in, generally appearing blue and in different light red. The singer, 39, wore the famed 128.54 carat yellow Tiffany Diamond, in a photoshoot along with her husband Jay Z, changing into simply the fourth feminine - and the primary black lady - to ever put on the gem. Last month, Beyonce was said to have been 'upset and angry' at unknowingly modeling a 'blood diamond' in her new Tiffany & Co. campaign after going through furious on-line backlash. However the chart-topper and the luxurious jewellery model got here below furious fire over the decision to showcase the controversial diamond, with many social media users calling consideration to its contentious historical past and the circumstances under which it was mined. The yellow diamond was found in a colonial mine in Kimberley, South Africa, in 1877 - at a time when the nation, and its mines, were underneath British colonial rule - and when predominantly black migrant staff were subjected to horrific conditions while receiving paltry, and generally no, pay unique bracelets for women in return. The labor was dangerous and unhealthy, with workers compelled to work in cramped situations, usually causing fatal accidents. Traditionally, a blood diamond, also called a battle diamond, is any gem that has been mined and bought with a view to fund navy action in opposition to a government - as defined by the United Nations. However, the term has additionally been utilized to rough gems that have been mined by individuals who have been subjected to the kinds of circumstances that Kimberley miners suffered through the 1870s - as with the Tiffany diamond that Beyonce modeled in her marketing campaign. Conditions outdoors of the mine had been no higher, with the housing for the workers that includes no natural water or waste disposal, with 1,144 dying from a variety of illnesses including pneumonia and scurvy between 1897 and 1899 alone. According to a supply close to Beyonce, the singer was unaware of the diamond's controversial historical past, and has been left outraged over the truth that she was not given more info concerning the gem's background. Beyonce is conscious of the criticism and is upset and angry that she wasn't made conscious of questions about its historical past,' an unnamed insider told The Sun.

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thesweetblossoms · 6 years

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Blossoming Pear Trees

🎼Breakfast at Tiffanys by Truman Capote, A Tree Grows In Brooklyn by Betty Smith and The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton, are a few of my favorite books based in New York City. In each, I learned about the charms, qualities and history of the port town bordered by rivers and saturated with hopes, dreams, ambitions, adventures and ideas, each framed within its unique time and context. These books careful plots, characters, storyline, setting and subtexts offering a sliver of knowledge, into the eras thinking, behaving, cultural nuances, as well as the animated energies and perspectives, that shaped and influenced such a complex and captivating town.

In Breakfast at Tiffany’s, I was struck by the fathomless quarters of the heart, the vivacious and inimitable character of Holly Golightly, and the sumptuous homage to the renowned Manhattan nightlife, rife with its glamorous habitués, black silk Givenchy dresses, cocktail soirées and scintillating repertee. I read The Tree Grows In Brooklyn, while living on Roosevelt Island. Within the pages of this delightful rendering of childhood memories, I was gripped by the historical flavor of Brooklyn, the memories of life as a small girl in a lively neighborhood, and the universal experience of being a child tempered heavily with the backdrop of a multicultural new land. The Age of Innocence, portrays another world within the five boroughs, it spotlights, the heady world of upper east side mansions, park avenue town homes, sea escapes to Newport and Long Island, the closely knit and highly structured world of the old New York elite, and the inevitable barriers that plant themselves, in the purest love stories. The book is strewn with references and symbolic meanings of flowers; ‘His eye lit on a cluster of yellow roses. He had never seen any as sun-golden before, and his first instinct was to send them to May instead of the lilies. But they did not look like her- there was something too rich, too strong, in their fiery beauty.’

Having studied and lived in NYC for eight years during my early twenties to early thirties, I often miss the alchemical rush, fearlessness, possibility, dreamlike and magical qualities of living and experiencing one of the great world cities. Thus, a setting in Manhattan brings back the memories of my own time in the city, whether in the faint refrain of notes of music drifting from long ago nights dancing, flirting and imbibing cocktails in Soho with my dearest friends, remembering the anticipation of getting ready for nights out, in short, white, party dresses, also sprinkled with hazy recollections of ending up at somebodies apartment watching the sunrise over the east river, or rainy, rose and iris strewn June walks in Central Park, or hot chocolate from a café near the Met Museum, or of teetering in four inch hot pink stilettos to law firms in midtown or Wall Street, or even further, back to my first night of Law School, crying myself to sleep in a dark dorm room in Greenwich Village, to the day I left, unsure of the journey as the cab carried me across the midtown bridge to the airport, Manhattan lit up behind me, my passage barely dimming its intensity or power. My first stop was to spend a few weeks in the South of France before moving to Vancouver. While those trillion and one lights in the epic skyline glittered farewell, I didn’t know that I would create homes soon, in Vancouver, Los Angeles, Toronto and in my current home in palmy, light saturated and desert bewitched Phoenix, all within half a decade of leaving New York.

Of course, when I miss the city and its aphrodisiacal properties, reading a lighthearted, expressive and engrossing book, such as Sweet Bitter by Stephanie Danler, is transportive and thoroughly entertaining. In this book, I follow the hectic, hedonistic, raucous, fast paced and party filled days and nights of Tess, the small town heroine who moves to the city with hardly any money, to work at a celebrated and iconic NYC restaurant. The most riveting elements of the narrative beyond the illuminating yet relatively common premise of being young, confused, riddled with anxiety about the future, driven to the edges of exploration and self discovery, are the careful and considered details that are painstakingly layered, by the author, like nacre accumulating on a shell, to create a picture of one persons bewildering unfurling of time and space; of developing a crush and falling in love, of connecting with other people through post work hours of heavy drinking and drugs, of everyday group camaraderie, of obstacles and of the costs of taking a chance, of being hurt by the many thorns, blind spots and fractures within reality and of times reluctance to reveal the truthful bitter notes of existence to the untried and uninitiated. Along with the protagonists evolving ability to understand her own capacity for work, of her desire to party, and to chase the object of her desire at the risk of rejection, we are gifted with a rich, informative, luscious, compelling and beautifully conveyed dialogue, steeped in knowledge, brimming with anecdotes and lush with poetic names of revered wines, sherries and champagne. Readers are granted an epicurean education into the sybaritic realms of hospitality, of torn figs, marcona almonds, black truffle laced risotto, of fine cheeses, of terroir, of perfumery and of the effervescence, of those who chase the ephemeral, whether in briny winter oysters, mornings commenced with espresso and closed with half discarded bottles of celebrated wine, in rootless love affairs and in risking everything for the intoxicating New York City moment.

Sometimes nostalgia hits in painful ways, like a cut, tearing skin when scraping against a jagged wall, yet when I see my little son who was born in the city, or my husband, whom I met therein, or my daughter, who might one day visit my favorite museums such as The American Museum of Natural History on the Upper East Side, I don’t miss it that much, I become lost in my current adventure, in baking the family walnut, chocolate chip banana bread, in cutting shell white roses from my balcony garden, in hiking in the charged desert and realizing with the grace of hindsight, the I found both heartbreak and love, from a storied place, and that it is as close to me as my breath and as dear as the Callery pear trees that bloom in the early spring along the proud avenues and reverie misted streets.

Dwelling here in the present, I vow to write more about flowers. For a petal and dew drenched reality accumulates hope, positivity, happiness, reveries, ideas and inspirations. One is potently healed by the generosity and brilliance of blossoms, from witch hazel sprays, to lavender soap, to jasmine and vanilla perfume, to dried rose petal dipped madeleines to countless other floral injections. To be among flowers, is our most natural and exhilarating state, whether it is a summer picnic by a meadow of chamomile and violets, or a October harvest of basil blossoms and cosmos, or a spring seaside hike bordering a swell of wild lilies of the valley. Yet, no matter the climate, reading about flowers provides a season-less joy and bliss to those who might stumble upon a pressed peach pink peony, laid lovingly in the pages of The Painted Veil by M. Somerset Maugham, or to the person who receives a catalog of old roses, featuring Chateau De Malmaison from David Austin, or the person that seldom tires of dreaming about flowers, lost in the liminal botanical sphere, content with the written words about these delicate creatures, no matter the coordinates of the sun, or the exact location of ones own heart, beyond the garden.

In between the hours of work and play, sleep and wakefulness, dancing and being still, writing and reading, planting seeds and cutting flowers, I conduct a search for signs from the universe, fully aware, that there may be many that we are sorely deficient in sensitivity, imagination and consciousness to perceive. Perhaps these subtle jewel boxes of illumination render themselves mute, appearing as the earliest streaked lavender, roasted sweet potato orange and bleeding pink dawn in the morning, the horizon appearing as we are struggling to rise and challenge the random slights of the work week, or it could be the jasmine flower you discover on the desk by your computer, turning striped royal purple as it dries slowly, learning later, that it was left by a fellow attorney who has knowledge of your love for flowers, or maybe, proof of grace may arrive, as innocuously as the black holographic star decals, a gift sent along with the romper room nail polish you purchased in the mail, or it could be from the positive occurrence of an overdue text message from your beautiful, talented and successful law school roommate in Los Angeles. However, they appear, the ones that please you the most, are the ones you should carry closest to you, for these may be the keys to unlock your dreams, discover your nature and decipher your heart.

Though I often encounter unbounded bliss, dwelling in my garden by candlelight, under the mist laced stars, calmed by the analgesic dance of the palms and the steady flow of the water fountain, I have discovered an equal passion for delicate, fine or potent pieces of jewelry. My earliest memories of jewels are of tiny, delicate, faceted gold bangles, from my grandmother, that I wore on special occasions or events. I remember them mostly from old pictures of when I was four or five living in Sydney, but also recently, when my mother gave them to me, collecting them from the locker, for my little daughter to wear. Other reminisces include the memories of the joy, ceremony and fanfare when my parents gave my sister and I, little opal earrings as gifts, or when my mother lent me petite ruby and diamond flower studs to wear before a party, reminding me of their preciousness and to return them to her for safe keeping later. Perhaps, just as the energy, vibrations, subtle magic, healing and alchemical qualities of trapped fire, air, water and earth exert their influences over us, working in tangent with the myriad other cosmic objects that comprise reality, the wearer of these exquisite, handcrafted and artistic pieces also alter, influence and change the mystical qualities of the jewels. For after, I wear a piece, whether an heirloom, a vintage piece, or a newly commissioned trinket, I sense a change, both in my self and in the inanimate stone and metal. The jewel and the bejeweled act in concert to chase and trap the light, the anklet bells drifting into the music, the diamond engagement ring quietly drawing two souls closer and the emeralds earrings annotating the laughter and erasing the tears. 🎹

#design #healing #lifestyle #love #gypsy #style #bohemian #flowers #perfume #wellness #jewelry #gardens #gardeners #bookreview #books #newyork #manhattan #losangeles

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