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morsingwyatt14 · 2 years

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How To Spot Real Vs Pretend Valentino Rockstud Pumps

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asktheidvembalmer · 4 years

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Is there anybody at the manor you’re interested in and if so then why?

"Anyone I'm interested? I'm not so sure I understand what kind of interest you mean."

#asktheidvembalmer #aesop carl #flower blossom aesop #idv aesop #idv askblog #blaesop #idv embalmer #askembalmer #blossom aesop

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ask-magnetboi-nortnort · 4 years

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💭 hmmmm my embalmer or how about doctor?

[ The Prospector already had Flower Blossom pegged as a pretty boi, as well as a lot softer and more vulnerable than the other incarnations of Aesop Carl. He did misjudge Flower Blossom at first, thinking that the blue haired man would be much more anti-social. He was surprised to find that not only is Flower Blossom very social, but that he also socializes with many different types of people. ]

[ Norton views Flower Blossom a little differently after receiving his gift. ]

@asktheidvembalmer

#answered ask #flowwerpot #//mun flowwer already knows that his opinion of flower blossom is going to be changing very rapidly in the near future #//sorry emily #//mun did not expect so many asks for this ask meme #//does he call himself aesop carl?#//does he call himself flower blossom??#//we call him blaesop but that’s not what he goes by is it???

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cannedcrow · 2 years

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‘Flower Frost’ - An Empires SMP/Flower Husbands fanfic: Part V, Hemlock

Flower Frost: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV,

A/N: Gets a bit NSFW/suggestive. I'd also like to note that servants have so far referred to Scott and Jimmy with the honorific 'Master', and I feel the need to mention that that's the proper term for the master of a household. The fable referenced is by Aesop.

Please reblog if you enjoy!

Hemlock: You will be my death.

The King of Mezalea and the Ocean Queen, being married, spent a great deal of time in each other’s company, despite ruling separate kingdoms. There was no question of combining their Empires, but the two were close allies. They sat now atop the wall surrounding one of the high gardens of the Mezalean Matral Palace, watching as dusk spread its cool wings over the brilliantly painted canyons of Mezalea.

“Do you ever plan to give this place an interior?” Asked Lizzie, idly teasing. “Perhaps one day it’d be nice to be inside the palace, rather than flitting around the roofs and gardens like pigeons.”

“Outward appearances are everything!” He exclaimed indignantly. “And you can go inside, as long as you don’t mind a few zombie bites and sitting on plain terracotta.”

“Tempting! No thank you.” Shifting smoothly sideways, she lay her head on Joel’s lap, and he stroked her hair absently, looking out on the Empire.

“What’s on your mind?”

He didn’t look away, answering only “I was considering which wing of the palace I should put my storage room in.”

“Aren’t you concerned about what people will think of their King seeming only to work on his palace while a plague kills citizens?”

He looked at her, unusually serious. “I think about it every minute. The fact that my people are freezing to death in my Empire and I can’t do anything- can’t even think of anything to fight it is horrifying.” He sounded tired, defeated, as so many of them did these days. Lizzie reached for his hand, holding it tightly in hers.

“We’ll find a way to beat this, Joel. Curing the plague and fighting off the Winter is something I can’t help with, but the Ocean Empire will supply Mezalea with food if the frost cripples your crops. The sea is bountiful as ever, and your people need not bear a famine.” Her aquamarine eyes held his even as her hand did, earnest and comforting.

He smiled, declaring. “Being married is great! It’s like having a parent to keep getting me out of trouble.”

She matched his smile. “If it weren’t for me, your biography would be called Joel Versus the Consequences of His Own Actions and I don’t think that’d be a very interesting read.”

He looked scandalised. “You think I’d let anyone write my biography? I’m the only one I can trust to write myself as devilishly handsome and exquisitely talented as I am.”

“Well, the inner workings of your mind are truly an enigma. I suppose you’re really the only one who could understand them enough to put on paper.”

“You could,” he replied, sheepishly.

“Joel Beans, Mr. Mezalea, are you being sweet right now? This is a major character arc!” Exclaimed Lizzie in mock surprise, to which the King coloured slightly and grinned.

“What can I say?” He shrugged with nonchalant vainglory, “I’m a man of many talents.”

The two lapsed into comfortable silence. An azalea blossom drifted down from one of the trees arching above them, landing delicately on Lizzie's hand. She twirled it thoughtfully before asking the unspoken question:

“What do you think we should do about Scott?”

He looked down at her, honey-dark eyes dull with worry. “What can we do? He’s vanished. He doesn’t want to be found. We don’t know if he’s even alive.”

“It’s hard to say with him. You called him a noble bastard, and I think that describes him perfectly- he’s not the type to run away and off himself in cowardice, but if he thought it might break the curse, I wouldn’t put it past him for a second.”

“Would it break the curse if he died?”

She considered for a time. “No,” she said finally. “I don’t think it would. Spells tend to break with the death of their caster, but curses are often more resilient. Most are made knowing that the one affected might die. This is old, powerful magic; it’s no simple Curse of Binding.”

“Well, I hope Scott’s clever enough to know that.”

She shrugged. “Who can be sure? It’s all speculation until we find out more.”

“And Jimmy?”

“What about him?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how freaked he is. You know how he was with Scott.”

“What, obliviously lovesick?” She snorted derisively. “It's like watching two sparrows hop around eachother, both getting spooked the moment the other comes near, then soliloquising about the tragedy of unrequited love.”

“Funny to watch, though,” reflected Joel. “I always find their interactions liven up House Blossom meetings. Jimmy’s so predictable I can hardly blame Scott for messing with him.”

She shook her head, exasperated. “It's pathetic. That said, I admit I’m worried about how Jimmy’s taking this.” She frowned, and continued:

“Let’s you and I meet with him tomorrow, okay? Allies. We need to discuss all this without the other rulers sniping at eachother.”

He nodded. She sat up and wordlessly tucked the azalea blossom in his hair before lying down again, the red sandstone warming her back with its hoarded sunlight, defiant of the now fully-darkened sky.

The next day dawned with the same cold, winter sunlight that residents of all the 12 empires were growing used to. It was midday when Jimmy awoke, haunted once again by his dream of the ballroom and that cruel mockery of Scott. He had run a distracted hand through his already dishevelled hair, and decided that hard thinking was the only thing that’d distract him properly - that meant, of course, building. He was on the balcony of his throne room sketching the design on a crafting table when two winged figures seemed to materialise beside him out of nowhere. It was Joel he noticed first, looking judicially over his shoulder at the paper and grimacing.

“What?!” He exclaimed, indignant at the expression. Joel gave a shrug. “I’m only marvelling at how you can so thoroughly ignore all the building tips I’ve given you over the years,” he let out a dramatically pained sigh. “I suppose my genius is too magnificent for anyone else to understand.”

“I think I’ve heard insane people say that before,” Lizzie put in mildly. “Jimmy, I’m concerned that we were both able to land right behind you without you noticing. Every day I’m shocked that you don’t wander into a coal mine and break your neck.”

Jimmy snatched his plans and folded them, lamenting: “You come into my empire unannounced and insult me? Rude.”

“I like to call it critique,” corrected Joel.

“We’re not actually here to bully you, Jimmy,” said Lizzie, hopping lightly onto the now unoccupied crafting table. “We’ve come to discuss Scott and all the rest of it. Allies, you know?”

“Oh.” He replied, rather blankly. “You have a plan?”

“No, but we wanted to discuss what we think before the next House Blossom meeting. Last time was a wreck and we made no progress, so it’d be good to get our aims decided before we meet again. For a start, I know we’re all on the side of finding Scott, but leaving our respective empires to do so is a lot to ask, I’m afraid. One emperor disappearing suddenly is a fluke, two or more is abandonment. We can’t let our people feel alone right now.”

“I won’t leave Mezalea,” said Joel, firmly. “Of course we need to find Scott, but I can’t go. The Winter Plague is already hitting us hard, but we’re completely unprepared for the weather we’re facing, and that could easily lead to worse problems that must be prepared for.”

Lizzie nodded understandingly. “That makes sense. I admit I’m also very hesitant. As I said, it’d feel ... like betrayal. If I were to leave the Ocean Empire for any reason. We don’t know how long it’d take to find him, nor if we’d even be successful.” She looked down defeatedly.

Jimmy opened his mouth, planning to protest, to say he would go, but stopped. He thought of the little polished spruce coffin, the first of many. The thin ice that was beginning to armour the many pools of water. The village, with its subdued streets and frightened occupants. The frost that was creeping up each stalk of wheat in the fields, leaving even the harvest mice reluctant to emerge. Quietly, hollowly, he said, “I suppose there’s no way any of us can, really.”

“Such are the chains of Kingship,” murmured Joel.

“Our responsibilities are to our people first and foremost,” confirmed Lizzie. She seemed so calm and sure, Jimmy reflected, her distress only betrayed by the slight, agitated flicking of her tail tip. He walked to the balcony railing, leaning his forearms on it, as though it might bear some of the weight of his thoughts. Absently, he watched a bird gliding in the distance. The trio had lapsed into a pensive, melancholy silence, and Joel had turned to look out on the Cod Empire next to Jimmy, whereupon with faint surprise, he remarked “that bird’s getting closer, isn’t it?”

Indeed it was. In a matter of seconds, the bird had soared down and landed on the balcony rail with the grace and precision of a dancer. They recognised then the cream-and-copper plumage of a Mauritius kestrel - House Blossom's messenger bird of choice. It held three small envelopes in its hooked beak, and gave a slight jerk of its regal head, as though to say ‘come on then, I haven’t got all day,’ Joel relieved the bird of its burden, giving it a nod of thanks. He opened one as the bird stretched its gleaming bronze wings and took off, reading quickly.

“Just a confirmation. Katherine has arranged a meeting in a few days time at House Blossom.” He handed the other two their notes. “Better keep that, Jimmy, knowing you, you’ll forget.”

Ignoring Jimmy’s irritated glare, he turned to Lizzie. “Shall we go, then?”

Lizzie hopped off the crafting table and hugged Jimmy tightly. He returned the embrace, not having realised how much he’d needed it. “We’ll all be okay,” she murmured. “You’ll see.”

After Lizzie and Joel had departed, Jimmy had tried to get back to his design, with no success. He sighed, realising the futility. He wasn’t a builder at the best of times and now was far from that. He ran a hand through his hair, something that he’d been doing far too much lately, and decided to visit the head farmers. The Cod Empire relied largely on wheat, and if the frost persisted - which it showed no hesitance in doing - the delicate spring wheat crop could be destroyed.

By dusk, Jimmy found himself back home. He’d spoken to the group of farmers - though several were too sick to come - responsible for a majority of the Cod Empire’s crops, and they’d shared his concern.

“M’Lord, I’d recommend potatoes and beetroots. Pumpkins too. They’re all generally reliable, and they can withstand the frost, too. We’ll have a fair crop by harvesting time too if they’re planted now.”

“Thanks, Carrus,” Jimmy replied. “Other empires are struggling too, and I’m afraid we’ve no clue how long this will last, nor how bad it’ll get, so it's good to be prepared early in case of the worst. Get planting straight away. If any of the wheat crop is showing signs of frost damage, scrap it and use the land otherwise. Go by your judgement, alright?”

“Of course, M’Lord. And -“ the man halted, uneasy.

“What?”

Carrus looked down, one hand twisting at his coat sleeve. “If it’s not too forward to ask, M’Lord, is there any progress on - on a cure? Only- my daughter is ill. I wouldn’t ask were it otherwise, but ...” he lapsed into silence, looking strained and weary.

Jimmy felt dread well in his heart at what he had to say. “No,” he admitted softly. “I’m so sorry, but we - the rulers, that is - none of us knows what to do. We’re trying everything, searching for any hint, but ...”

He trailed off, and Carrus nodded understandingly. “I s’pose nothing humbles one like tragedy, M’Lord.”

He turned to leave, bidding Carrus goodnight. As he made his way home, he felt as though he’d failed them- all of them, his people. A king should be able to protect his people. But what can even a king do against sickness? His thoughts brought to mind an old children’s fable of a jackdaw and a peacock. ‘A king must be suited for the job, and not just a vain pretender.’

‘Vain pretender’, he thought. Was that all he was? Would one suited for the job be able to do more? No, he thought. He was being ridiculous. Did he mean to imply Lizzie was not suited to rule? Joel? Gem, Katherine, Fwhip? None of them had found a solution either. In a way, replied the cynic mind, that’s even more terrifying.

That night, he dreamt again.

He found himself in a crowded ballroom. Once more, he was approached by Scott. Once more, they danced together, blissful in a little world of their own, free of plague, of fear, of loneliness.

Then they were in that grassy, flower-filled hollow again, dancing to Scott’s gentle humming. The honeysuckle-sweet air was tinged with another scent though, acrid and malevolent. He looked over Scott’s shoulder to see the wooden wall of their valley home consumed by flame, black smoke billowing into the periwinkle sky. He rested his head once more on Scott’s shoulder, uncaring.

In the ballroom once more, their dance spun to a finish. Scott held him close, remarking dryly “one of these days, you really ought to dress for the occasion,”

"It's not as though I can control what happens here!" Jimmy retorted.

"Can't you?" Asked Scott, a smile in his voice, and leant to kiss him.

“Your mask,” interjected Jimmy, laughing. “Take off your mask!”

He did so, raising the owl mask to reveal those blankly crystalline, frozen eyes, that snow-pale countenance. But horror didn't crash over Jimmy this time, nor did he attempt to wrench himself away. He only smiled back and leant up to kiss him. Scott reciprocated, taloned hands finding the back of his neck and the small of his back, the sharp metal pricking his skin hungrily. Jimmy found himself pulling at the collar of his shirt as Scott kissed and bit at the skin there, teeth as sharp and cold as slivers of ice. The ballroom was empty, the silence was broken only by their ragged panting, but little would’ve been different had it been as crowded as before. Grinning wickedly, Jimmy pulled Scott with him to the polished floor, surrendering himself without complaint.

When Jimmy woke, still partially lost in the haze of sleep, his first thought was of how chilly the room was. He supposed he'd left a window open, and curled into himself in an attempt to get warm. It was then that memory of his dream came back to him, and horror made him sit upright, thrust sharply back to wakefulness. He felt his face flush furiously despite the cold, mortified. What the hell is wrong with you? He scolded himself mentally, You're friends. You're friends, and your brain is twisting things because you're worried. He fell again onto his back, forearms covering his face. For fuck's sake, get it together. He sighed deeply, opening his eyes. Perplexedly, he watched the cloud of his breath dissipate. He breathed out again experimentally, and again his breath fogged the air, as though he were outside in the snow rather than his fireplace-warmed bedchamber.

The realisation struck him with all the force of a charging ravager. "Oh, fuck," He whispered. "Oh fuck."

He stood, sleep forgotten, and found himself pacing, running a panicked hand through his hair. Like a tiger in a cage, supplied his brain helpfully, Rather, a fish in a tank.

A knock at the dark oak door broke into his thoughts.

"Master Jimmy?" Came a servant's voice," Will you be wanting breakfast?"

Fuck. "N-No!" he called distractedly, hating the childish stutter of his voice. He made a valiant attempt to compose himself, adding, "No, I'll come down later. If it's already made, let the staff have it."

"Very good, sir."

There was the sound of retreating footsteps, and he freed a colourful assortment of expletives, finding it rather sobering. A King isn't the type of figure who can hide from the world. He was on borrowed time, he knew - he could not come into contact with Joel, Lizzie - hell, he couldn't come to the House Blossom meeting, that was certain. Always the first to die, he thought, bitterly, before realising he hadn't died before. I will, though. Soon enough, I will.

Suddenly, his plan of action made itself clear. He strode to the handsome spruce desk with certainty, retrieving ink and paper.

Upon finishing his note, he moved to the window, calling out "Oscar!"

Momentarily, a magnificent osprey swept into view, landing on the windowsill. It stepped regally onto the gloved arm Jimmy offered, golden eyes regarding him austerely. He stroked the bird's white cheek, and Oscar leant into his touch contentedly. "Handsome boy," Jimmy murmured, walking to his desk once more. He handed the sealed letter to Oscar, who took it in his beak, and instructed, "I'm going to give this to you now, but don't deliver it right away. In the evening, take it to Lizzie, okay?" The bird dipped his head, and Jimmy felt the brief tensing of talons as Oscar leapt from his arm, sailing on outstretched wings out the window.

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mewmaru · 3 years

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Break down of Aesop’s 2nd Birthday letter

I posted this on amino and Reddit yesterday, here goes now I’m sick of all the Aesop hate

Hello everyone, as many of you have seen, Aesop’s second birthday letter has been released. I’ve seen many people very mad at Aesop for wanting to hurt Victor... as you should be. But, you need to be mad for the right reasons, and I hope to bring to light some things about Aesop’s character people may be forgetting in the heat of the moment while wanting to protect the sweet boy Victor, plus other cool things I’ve noticed about the letter.

Let’s start with the first thing of note, Aesop’s dream.

“Last night I dreamt Jerry, who was standing in the dim yellow light and arranging human remains in the coffins. I helped him place white flowers in the coffins, he patted me on the shoulder and said I had done a good job.”

Aesop himself analyzes what he believes this dream means, saying:

“I think that dream might have been a sign, congratulating me on finding my purpose and reminding me of what I must do.”

But I’ll get to that in a second. Let’s talk about what I think the dream means. Starting off with the meaning of white flowers.

White flowers have a few meanings, so let’s look at those. In Asia, white blossoms symbolize death. Fair enough that those would appear in this dream. But, white flowers can also stand for humility, purity, innocence, and sympathy. White Lily’s also commonly stand for renewal and rebirth, and are often given at funerals of those who die young. Victor is young, appears innocent, and Aesop believes that he sympathizes with his victims. In Aesop’s mind, he’s giving his victims a new life after death, “rebirth”.

I doubt Aesop knows the meanings of these flowers, but it’s possible that he does, and his dream having white flowers specifically “told him” as another sign who his victim or in his mind “the person he’s helping” should be. It’s a stretch, but it’s food for thought.

Okay back to that last sentence:

“I think that dream might have been a sign, congratulating me on finding my purpose and reminding me of what I must do.”

Aesop did not end on good terms with Jerry, but he doesn’t know that. Something people forget is that Aesop is delusional. Jerry’s manipulation over the years of an already mentally ill and child sad over the death of his mother didn’t bode well, and Aesop learning Jerry killed his mother only further drove Aesop off the deep end.

To me, this shows an incredibly small about of “am I making the right decision, oh wait, my mentor is appearing in my dreams, so yes I am.” Aesop is still haunted by the man that traumatized him, but he sadly doesn’t know that. Not every victim comes out the good guy, and this is how Aesop is justifying his actions. say that louder for the people in the back please.

Already, next part.

“Over the years, I have kept Jerry’s teachings in mind and have never forgotten my duty as an undertaker. Since entering the manor, I have been looking for the right person to attempt a new start.”

This is so important because it basically confirms something I have beloved for the longest time: Aesop hasn’t killed anyone but Jerry. At least, not alone. Aesop /aided/ Jerry, he did not kill people on his own. He wanted to, and still does, but his brand of killing doesn’t involve killing anyone, you have to fit his standards, which Victor does. Lucky Victor. /j

I’m not gonna analyze who the flaky girl or cranky man could be, as I honestly don’t know.

“Someone quiet would be best suited for lying in a soft and comfortable coffin... and now, my search is over!”

This is more proof that Aesop is incredibly fucking delusional, and believes that he’s helping. He sees coffins as a safe and comfortable place of eternal rest, not as a punishment. Not an excuse man, jeez that’s creepy.

“He has a face truly made for eternal slumber!” WEE WOO WEE WOO WEE WOO—

In all seriousness, this is creepy as hell. It shows to Aesop’s selective mindset, even more selective than Jerry it seems. Aesop won’t kill just anyone, he has to think they “deserve” his “special” treatment. And he doesn’t see what he’s doing as a bad thing. “Eternal slumber”. He believes what he does is special and honorable.

“He always sits in the corner silently, looking as though he holds a secret he is terrified of anyone finding out.”

Aesop thinks by killing Victor, he’s setting him free from the stress of this secret. That’s what it looks like to me.

“I think... I am the only one who understands him, and he understands me as well.”

Just more proof that Aesop thinks his creepy brand of killing is helping. He thinks that he’s the only one who understands his victims, therefore he’s the only one who knows what’s best for them. It’s really creepy, but shows to his delusional mindset.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow... or maybe I should write a letter to him. Only he can understand that I badly need him to become my “silent friend”.”

This shows the manipulative nature that Aesop learned from Jerry. Victor prefers to speak in letters, so how should he try to convince him? Letters, of course. That shows he cares. In his mind.

Aesop may not be aware that this is manipulative. To him, he’s just helping in the way he can, but in reality, he’s manipulating his victim into submission.

I’d also like to point out “I badly need”. This shows that Aesop is still seeking approval from Jerry, even if he doesn’t know it. Aesop wants to become Jerry. To go back to my original point of him being unaware he’s manipulative, he wants to “help” people like Jerry did, so he’s manipulating his victim in the same way, finding the same type of victims. Victims depressed and sad, people who are outcasts. To Aesop, that is just helping. But in reality, he’s horribly manipulating people more likely to submit.

Aesop is delusional.

“If he wants me to, I can even “take care” of his dog as well.”

I believe this means that he will kill and embalm Wick as well. LEAVE HIM ALONE—

“And the other two, although they’re not the most suitable candidates, I can bide my time for the perfect chance to send them off.”

I believe that this means Aesop plans to get the other two intentionally killed during the game, as they are not “worthy” of his treatment. I may be wrong, though.

So damn, Aesop my boy, creepy boy. Aesop is certainly an interesting character, an incredibly delusional man who believes he’s helping. HE’S NOT—

I hope Victor wasn’t killed by Aesop, but who know ;^;

I’m not trying to defend Aesop’s actions, just explain them. I hope this long read was worth it lol.

#identity v #idv #aesop carl #idv aesop #idv rant

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artdaily7 · 3 years

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Selected Poems from A Wolf Lying in Wait by Abbas Kiarostami The wind will carry the cherry blossoms away to the white of the clouds. After every cresting wave three wavelets after three wavelets another cresting wave. I escorted the moon down to the heart of a dark cloud. I drank some wine and fell asleep. A bird sings in the middle of the night; unfamiliar even to the birds. The glow of the harvest moon upon the window made the glass tremble. My shadow accompanies me now in front now by my side now following. What a relief are these cloudy days! I am returning from a funeral. My shoes feel tight. I feel like making love to someone I don't know. Today's opportunity was lost just like yesterday's; what remains is a record of the days. In the wasteland of my solitude single trees thrust up by the thousand. In your absence I debate with myself. We come to agreement on everything so easily. In your absence the sun is just the sun the day, day night, night. Your presence in a moonlight mixture. In your absence I converse with you, when you are there I converse with myself. In your absence the day lasts twenty-four full hours. When you are here now more now less. With you I suffer. Alone with myself I'm in fear. Where is my non-self? I love so much that I'm sick of it. Hesitant I stand at the juncture. The only way I know is the way back. I tread a narrow path with difficulty aimlessly. My shirt is a flag of freedom fluttering in the clothesline; light and liberated from the body's bondage. What a pity I was not a good host for the first snowflake that settled on my eyelid. It does not rain enough on rainy days. The sun dismantled the display of the dewdrops a moment after rising. Where is a cloud to soften a little the intensity of the merciless sun? A wolf lying in wait. A thousand bats chirping together in the longest night of the year. Flight is the reward of a caterpillar that wrapped itself in a cocoon of silk. I dread even a gentle breeze when I have been through a severe storm. It has been raining ceaselessly for three days; I can't bring myself to believe in the sun. The sky shatters in a broken mirror. What a relief that everyone goes in his own way. A stranger asks directions from another newly-arrived stranger. It was plucked; it was thrown away, a flower not particularly sweet-smelling. A boat with no sail a sea with no wind a sky with no moon. How easily we've accepted it not seeing even one pigeon flying among a flock of crows! When I returned to my birthplace the river had become a stream and no children were bathing in it. Tens of keys left over from faraway days; I do not dare to throw them away even when there is no lock for them to open. Inadvertently I step into a house in which no light burns. What is the meaning of the seashore next to the fear of the waves? Of the day's bitterness there is no trace in my dreams at night. I am afraid of heights; I have fallen from a high place. I am afraid of fire; I have been burned many times. I am afraid of separation; often have I been offended. I am not afraid of death; I have never died before, not even once. Among my current beliefs one is that life is beautiful. I have arranged to travel with a new companion to a destination I have never been. Beyond good and evil, the sky is blue. What was in my heart poured out of my tongue. It burned her heart and my tongue. I work hard without joy without sorrow. I recorded a masterpiece in my diary in the middle of the night. When morning came it was no more than gibberish. The death of an eternal love in a heart that stopped beating. Here I stand on top of a cliff; my shadow beckoning me from the bottom of the valley. Arthur Rackham 1912 The Wolf and the Goat, illustration from Aesops Fables

#A Wolf Lying in Wait #Abbas Kiarostami #Kiarostami #Arthur Rackham #Rackham #The Wolf and the Goat #Aesops Fables #Art #Poetry #Fine Arts #Poems #Painting #Quotes

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atiny-piratequeen · 4 years

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Character Analysis: Park Seonghwa, the 'Frozen Prince'

Name: Park Seonghwa

Languages: Sabir, English, Portugese, French, Turkish, Greek, Arabic, Korean (Modern Day) Japanese (Modern Day), Mandarin (Modern Day), Thai (Modern Day), Italian (Modern Day)

Crew Position: First Mate, Tactician

Powers: Cryokinesis/Ice Powers (Inherited from Greco-Roman God, Boreas)

Compass Position + Arrowpoint Stone: Eastern Facing located on his right wrist , Blue Celestite

Eye Color: Gray (Natural)/ Snow White (Demonic Form)

Hair Color: Blonde (Natural)/ Jet Black (Demonic Form)

Likes: Reading, Seafood, Making Flower Crowns (He’ll never admit it without a fight), Training, Horseback Riding

Dislikes: Lazy People, Cowardice, Fruitless Gossip

Prince Park Seonghwa.

A man rumored amongst townsfolk to be blessed by the gods. Unusual blonde hair, stunning gray eyes, it has been a long time since the kingdom has seen such a capable leader.

A foreigner, brought to the Mediterranean kingdom by marriage, he spent the entirety of his childhood learning to be the model prince. The prince’s posture is perfect, he never dodged his studies, he could tame the wildest mare, to everyone, he was the obvious choice for the kingdom’s king.

Something...more than a few people are opposed to.

First Mate Park Seonghwa

No longer a prince, but still just as elegant, Seonghwa has yet to lose any of his old habits during his time out at sea. Being the first person to join the crew once Hongjoong became captain and the first person to be turned immortal, Seonghwa worked hard to prove himself and continues to be one of the most reliable members of the crew.

Seonghwa may be a little stiff when it comes to meeting new people, but being so close to a certain ‘Kind Pirate King’ has opened his mind-and heart-to meeting new people and the prospect of second chances.

-Mythology-

As one of the four wind gods of the seasons in Greco-Roman mythology, Boreas is the purple-winged god of the North Winds and Winter alike. In some depictions, instead of his wings being purple, he has white wings with purple attire fluttering behind him.

His parents are Astraeus and Eos. Astraeus is often said to be the father of two notable sets of sons; the Astra Planeta, five sons representing the stars. The other set of sons are the Anemoi, the four wind gods, with Boreas representing the frigid North Wind.

Boreas’ wife, Oreithyia, (the princess of Athens, as her father was King Erekhtheus) was swept away by him one day as she played in a riverside meadow, with companions (remember, folks. Don’t sweep away your crush and basically kidnap them. That’s not cool.)

Older tellings would depict Boreas residing in Thrace, an area described as the lands around the north of Thessaly. In those depictions, Boreas lived either in a mountain’s cave, or in a beautiful palace, with his home said to be upon the Balkan Mountains (or Haemus Mons).

Oreithyia would become the immortal wife of Boreas and bear him four children; Zetes and Calais (their sons), Chione and Cleopatra (their daughters). (Also, no, this Cleopatra isn’t that Cleopatra). All of their offspring have their own tales about them, and Chione is even regarded as the goddess of snow.

Boreas’ tales are not as widely told, compared to other gods and goddesses, but he has been mentioned in some of Homer’s tales (specifically in Achilles’ tale), as well as being included in Aesop’s Fables, in a contest between himself and sun god Helios.

-Power Applications/Demon Transformation-

When Seonghwa completely reverts into his demon form, his hair will go from whatever color it currently is to an inky black color, with his gray eyes lightening to an almost pure white color. Elongated ruby-colored marks will appear over his eyes, with the one over his left eye being slightly longer than his right. The same elongated ruby-colored marking will stretch over his lips to form an elongated smile, though I assure you, if you make this form come out, the last thing he’ll be doing is smiling.

Having been bestowed Boreas’ power, Seonghwa can create ice and snow at will and his prefered method of combat is to dual wield his falcatas, one being the rune-engraved one he took from his kingdom and the other being an ice one he forms at will.

Seonghwa has mastered his power, using it in small applications here and there for domestic things aboard the ship such as keeping food items cold to prolong their life while out at sea and also using his powers to slow opponents in combat. Since his powers are a part of him, no amount of cold will affect him negatively.

In fact, if he was in the tundra or somewhere equally as cold, his powers would only be heightened.

Despite his proficiency with his falcatas, as well as any other form of blade, Seonghwa is more than capable to fight hand and hand, and will use his ice powers to freeze body parts of opponents he touches.

-Character Song Breakdown-

All of the main boys have a song assigned to them in the AtT playlist to go alongside their origin chapters. Seonghwa’s character song is Friction by Imagine Dragons.

I’ll only go through some verses and talk a bit about their connections I put to the chapter. If you haven’t read Chapter Two of Against the Tide, I suggest you do that first, as the song breakdown includes some major spoilers.

‘Get down with the victim

We both know you need them

You're stuck in the middle

Of all irrelevance

And your heart is beating

'Cause you know that you gotta

Get out of the middle

And rise to the top now’

Seonghwa’s accomplishments overshadow that of his older brother, Zafer’s. The bloodborne prince is lazy and very much inadequate, but believes it is his birthright to be crowned prince regardless. Feeling victimized and finally feeling the weight of his adequacy, Zafer decides to rise out of his mediocrity, unfortunately at the expense of everything.

‘You can't fight the friction

So ease it off

Can't take the pressure

So ease it off

Don't tell me to be strong

Ease it off

You can't fight the friction

So ease it off’

Zafer runs from his problems and finds the easy way out of things, while Seonghwa tackles his problems, no matter how difficult, head on. Though these lyrics can be directed towards Zafer and his avoidance of responsibility and desire to ‘ease’ his responsibilities off onto someone else, the delivery in-song fits perfectly well with scenes where there is physical conflict. Whenever I envision this song, I definitely imagine Seonghwa fighting with his falcata in-hand. The power, the intensity, all of it kept in every graceful and deadly swing of his blade.

‘Oh why can't you let go

Like a bird in the snow

This is no place to build your home’

In the middle of Seonghwa’s transformation, he reveals his true fears, how he doesn’t need to trust in anyone, how him opening up and trusting someone (his brother) got the closest person to him (Queen Dahlia, his mother) killed.

The Boreas-infused version of Seonghwa nearly takes complete hold of him, had it not have been for Hongjoong breaking the ice-literally.

Once he’s calmed down, defeated his demonic self and taken control, Seonghwa is much more open to trusting others, though he still often takes the longest to warm up (ha) to newer members of the crew.

-Character Blurb-

Seonghwa gently wove various tropical flowers into one another, a small, peaceful look on his face as he held up the tiny ring, jolting when he looked past the hole to find Hongjoong staring curiously at him. He startled, all but throwing the ring of flowers behind him as he stared at Hongjoong with wide eyes.

“P-Putois-”

“What was that?”

Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed as he moved to hide the ring with his body as Hongjoong tried to peek onto the bed.

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

Hongjoong dove onto the bed, laughing merrily as Seonghwa tried to scramble and snatch the ring out of view. The captain wrapped a shadow around his wrists, yanking them back before he grabbed the ring, blinking in wonder at the simple, elegant item.

“It’s a ring of flowers. Why are you hiding this?” The smaller man mused, sitting half way in Seonghwa’s lap. Seonghwa went beet red, clearing his throat as he took the ring, hesitantly putting it around his wrist as he looked away, huffing.

“Petite peste-” He muttered before he sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair.

“It’s...embarrassing. It reminds me of my mother. We would make them together…” He trailed off, biting his lip.

Hongjoong looked at the flower before he smiled, wrapping his legs around Seonghwa’s waist, holding his hand out as an assortment of blossoms grew from his palm. Seonghwa’s lips parted in surprise as Hongjoong held his hand out.

“Show me how to make them, then. We can make them together.” He offered. Seonghwa blinked in surprise before he chuckled and nodded, kissing his head lightly.

“Oui, mon putois. Pay attention, okay?” He moved Hongjoong out of his lap and showed him step by step, all with a small smile on his face.

-M.List-

#fie writes #against the tide #att character analysis #park seonghwa #seonghwa

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