Latest Posts by selenorites - Page 4

👕   ─  go out wearing matching christmas sweaters ( i dare you )

                                           ↳  from  @moonichor​

                       ❝   C'mon – I think it looks cute! And imagine the look on Noct’s face when he sees this!   ❞   Prompto practically squealed with laughter. The joke was devious, but funny nonetheless. Lady Lunafreya didn’t need much convincing to participate; all the same, he was grateful for her good-spirited comradery.

In their Christmas sweaters, both of them looked festive. The bright red one read ‘I’m with stupid’ and an arrow pointing. On the other, a bright blue background with snowflakes and a captioned picture of Noctis wearing reindeer antlers, which said, 'I’m stupid.’

     ❝   I can’t believe we’re gonna pull this off –  'cause he can’t murder both of us…. One of us is gonna have to take the fall… and I’m sorry to say, Luna, buuut, I think his Majesty is about to save his right-hand man, his best bud, his dashing partner in crime–   ❞    Chuckling as they walked, not realising they were indeed within earshot of the royal they were speaking about.

            ｡:*• ─ IT’S CHRISTMAS TIME !      ›  ( Accepting )

Fire: from “A Journal of Love”, The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1934–1937

👍 gib hc pls uwu

☆.*･｡ﾟ  𝐃𝐘𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃-𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍

Send 👍 for a random headcanon I have about our muses.@moonichor universe : versus xiii

1 )  when they were little, stella would often follow luna around and mimic everything she did. from picking flowers to memorizing religious, heck she even started wearing white when she was a child because her pretty lunar sister did. naturally, if luna was to given attention to any other kid close to stella’s age, the star princess would surely sulk. needless to say, as children they were still pretty close to one another. i’m sure there were times where they shared the same bed and ate sweets together when no one was watching. not to mention the many joyous little pranks they might do teaming up against their older brother. as little children, they would definitely play dress up together and talk about their fairy-tales happy endings (clearly not yet understanding how unfair life will one day be ). but nevertheless, before stella’s accidents they were very close and super happy as siblings.

2 ) unfortunately all good things must end, and as you know the two sisters would eventually be separated. luna and ravus likely did not know that stella woke up from her coma until months afterwards. and even then, it wasn’t until they saw her again that they were cautioned not to bring up the subject of their parents out of fear she would break down and repress even more memories. it was likely a very difficult first reunion and it was obvious this stella was not the same little stella that used to follow her sister around. nevertheless, stella would try her best to get close to her siblings and learn all that she could about them. even if stella is having a hard time adjusting herself, she would try to get luna to cheer up and smile because her sister is much more beautiful when her lips matches the crescent of the moon. she might not be able to give luna the same flower as she did when she was younger, but the first thing stella painted for luna was that of her favorite flower. she still remembers.

3 ) once stella tried to get luna to be more tech-savy, insisted that emails are much more faster and even tried to get luna to use the most modern phone. luna, however, preferred the tenebrae nokia traditional phone that lacked the modern functions. needless to say, stella’s attempt to make luna more “up-to-date” failed completely and out of pettiness stella would instead write correspondence to luna rather than just call her. hilariously enough, luna is completely fine with it and probably prefers the handwritten sentiments rather then the digital messages. letters from stella consist mainly of her complaining about her day to day, the most ridiculous over-exaggeration, and frankly i’m sure even luna would face palm at her sister’s terrible lack of financial control.

4 ) stella and luna totally shit-talks about people lol.

5 ) once stella tried to teach luna how to paint the dog form of pryna, and when they showed it to gentiana, gentiana complimented luna’s cloud.

6 ) the two of them are quite protective of each other, and anyone who courts their sister must first pass a few of their criteria. stella, unfortunately does not play fair, and gives anyone who looks at her sister the hardest time ever. she may not be as bad as ravus, but she is certainly his sister lol.

7 ) these two sister love each other unconditionally and would in fact sacrifice each other’s happiness so that the other can be happy. 

8 ) lol at that realization that these two are pawns to two asshole king of gods ---- who probably have beef since the cosmos cant handle two asshole king of gods who wants to control everything. so we’re just pretending that everyone is totally okay and that it won’t end so terribly right. nothing bad is going to happen right ? bahamut and bhunivelze can totally co-exist and not drag their favorite pawns into depressing stuff... right..

9 ) number 5 is my favorite.

ophelia / martyr    //    based on “the young martyr” by paul delaroche, and “ophelia” by john everett millais.

  *  //  𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐊𝐑​ .

Melancholia has cruel tendencies of engendering grief at its worst. While Dáinsleif insists that too much time has past for him to remember his youngest years, he is no stranger of that sentiment. Of times when he did not know any better and this world wasn’t as grotesque. Of times where fantasies of the acceptance of a romance long gone that do not pertain to him— alas, they still seeped through his senses as if they were his own. If only he reminisced any at all. ❝I would not.❞ The pain that emanates from the lunar sacredness before him failed to go unperceived by him. Though his soul would say otherwise, there is naught but sorrow all that comes from reliving the past— the memories. For better or for worse, Dáinsleif is an expert of reliving until shattering himself whole. ❝It is human to desire for something that was better in one’s life.❞ Ah, but the duality that is so palpable in her words pains him to the very core. Pray tell, child of the moon. Were you given a chance to choose, what would it be? Your past of that whom you are meant to be? ❝…Tell me. Would you find any solace if you could pursue any of that which you seek from your past?❞

𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐇 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘.    it waited patiently to cleave apart those dimensions and detach her from impossibilities.  yet, the waking dreams were unrestrained, and the wish as endless as the slumber of the cold aria moon.  lofty, and mystical, and strange.  she presumed it came with age, old and weathered as she was, a forsaken temple of paled limestone.  while, yes, we can call it all ‘human desire’, which at first it was — regardless, she must have been transcending such, if personal longings and conceptualizations of a wistful god fashioned her to a woman-clutter of contradictions.    “ solace ?  that’s very uncertain.  perchance, it could temporarily numb the sorrow with ‘what if’s’, but are such things not prone to repetition ?  do they not worsen it all ?  you know this better than any other. “    how long did it haunt her to intermingle and blend with other losses ?  where did they end and she begin ?  for how long would she wander both asleep and awake like an avatar, intoxicated by too much lunacy to bear ?    “ whether that which was lost could return to us, or we return to it, eventually we would lose it again.  i might not be strong enough to endure it many more times after piecing myself together.  i am... not like you, dáinsleif. ”

Anyway I am a fan of luna being angry and passive aggressive sometimes, so whatever verse I go with, she won't be nice to him.

lunafreya “ he stabbed me in the guts and slapped me in the face but i’m going to sympathize with him anyway “ nox fleuret

I was like that: visible invisible visible invisible. There’s no material as variable as moonlight. I was climbing, clinging to the underneath of my bones,—

Alice Oswald, excerpt of Full Moon (via antigonick)

The Sky Is Burning.

 *  𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 ?  

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄      " i wish i could say i am a light that never goes out, but i flicker from  time to time. "    //    oh, little one, you have burned so quietly for so long, haven't you?   burnt yourself out trying to give others light?  wishing, desperately,  that they would notice the way your hands shake or the wildflower  bruises under your tired eyes.  but they never have, have they?  and so,  it obviously wasn't bad?  right?  you had more to give, didn't you?  how  much could you pour yourself out before they noticed ? it is all you've  ever known, after all.  help, help, help, help.    ( are you providing it, or  begging for it? )    but you've given too much, spread yourself too thin, didn't you?  you are  so heavy, so tired.  you have spent your life carrying for others the  way you wished someone would care for you.  but you're worried, aren't  you?  that if you can't be what they need, if you can't be the pillar for  others to lean on, they'll leave you. what you seek is home, a safe  place to rest and be taken care of. and little light, you deserve it.  you have earned it. you are worth more than what you can provide for  others :    you deserve the same care you so freely give out.  they will love  you all the same, honey.  set down the world, and rest that weary heart  of yours. 

tagged by :  @asteriskheart​ tagging :  all of ye

Before this moon shall darken, say of me :      “ 𝐒𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄, 𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄. ”

𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐎𝐗 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐓 PORTRAYAL INSPIRED BY MYTHOLOGY.   credits :  graphic / artist

Detail: Matlock Tor by Moonlight, 1777-80, by Joseph Wright of Derby.

You know what would have been neat ? A dramatic wedding scenario

  *  //  𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐗𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑​ .

“ I cant exactly FIGHT those things and come out unscathed. I think it’s the BEST plan, all things considered, ” he offered, attempting to sound convincing. As skilled as he was, he was not SKILLED enough to hold his own against the demons that roamed the fields come NIGHTFALL. ASTRAL of ascended plane, LADY LUNA was voice of element and deity alike. A voice for the broken, a voice for the powerful - a voice for the ROYALS. So much representation settled upon shoulders, yet woman of grace had never once faltered. Hiro, young as he was, had NEVER met someone who braved the storm with NO weapon ( at least not one like his own ). He knew he didn’t belong near them - THEY that led the masses through the dark and represented hope in PHYSICAL form. Not ignorant, yet not fully immersed, little hunter toed the line between GUARDIAN and PAID PROTECTION. Though hurting for Gil in every sense of the concept, demand for coin was hardly spoken. He had offered to help free of ANY charge. Someone has to help. Distant words that advised, even from the ghosts of the past - just another whisper on the wind. Large eyes roamed the SKIES before finally landing on distant hue of HAVEN’S safe circlet. Polearm was shifted across shoulder, gloved digits curling tight in metallic grip.

“ Yeah - looks like it isn’t too FAR. I’ll lead the way. The FOG is gonna roll through soon, so stick close… ma’am. ” Manners - she wasn’t some plebeian like him. “ I don’t exactly have the BEST accommodations, but I’ve got a tent you can use, if you want ? I haven’t used it in a while - I more or less SLEEP tucked away somewhere. Just better HUNTING that way. ” He was silent for a moment before turning his head, looking over his shoulder to the other. Curiosity burned at the edges of his mind and he couldn’t help but ASK. “ So, I don’t really know how it WORKS - all of this traveling and communication. Isn’t it REALLY important that you make pacts with all of THEM ? I mean - you won’t get in TROUBLE for getting some help around here… will you ? ”

𝐈𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 , 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒 , 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐆𝐎 𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐃.    instead, it intensified the petrichor of trampled grass and the foot-printed earth, it levitated the rustle of foliage stirred by nesting robins, and amplified the wilderness’ presence.  as the distant, dusk-washed rocks howled with wariness for incoming hours, it should be clear without any mention, that she’d rather see a child safe and sound in its own house, than be company to a patron saint whose trails attracted gunpowder-bite and cosmogonic peril.  we could neither avoid questions about parental supervision in need of answers, such as :    why are you alone ?  what about your family ?  even so, what she failed to deny was the courage deeply ingrained within the intensity of your resolve, illustrated by the grip around weaponry ;  the potential to become someone greater, demonstrated by action in lieu of empty words.  who had then been so small, she predicted, would grow to a paragon for the next generation of children to aspire to.  and in identifying it so, it reminded her, ceaselessly, that hesitation must never corrupt her own gallantry.

whilst ascending the adorned ridge, she began :    “ you assume correctly.  every god and goddess must wake to assemble for the light of the crystal.  the world and the chosen need their aid, and their work plays a vital part in maintaining the riddance of chaos when the advent of triumph delivers us to dawn.  whether we help each other a little to achieve this, will, undoubtedly, not anger them.  fret not over any consequences thereafter. ”    haven-runes illuminated in reaction to arrival, aglow in cyan beneath a climbing heel, hasty to build a protective dome.  as her magic sparked fire within its respective boundaries, she did ponder, a dainty finger supported her chin.    “ i suggest we build the tent.  it is you who deserves to rest comfortably, after all, brave as you were today.  oh, additionally  —  there is little need for formalities.  you may call me, simply, luna. ”

𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 .    //    ACCEPTING .

‘  the handsome fellow that’s trying to rescue you from a hideous fate is never wrong.  ’   //    @asterites​​​

𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.    that said, while the wit with which it was conveyed, and the context thereof, robbed her embarrassingly of all her excuses, it contradicted with each principle an oracle absorbed and internalized.  hence, her first impulse was to dismiss  —   but what exactly provoked it ?  that her fate threatened a hideous undertone ?  that he, the silly hero, had all intentions to rescue her ?    (  or that he was ... handsome … ?  )    none of these points were untruths and, still, she argued.  still, she made a case for dispute  :    “ he is wrong.  i needn’t be rescued from a particular destiny that i have not chosen  — ”    but with the lakes of fire in their home of darkness, with the heads of conquered children at a gunpoint, and their betrayed roots, had it been a free decision, or unsought necessity ?   ‘ i chose this ‘    on repeat and with effort, the line transformed to conviction, did it not ?  a conviction as real as one to serve an empire which, more than once, manufactured tools out of the flesh of loved ones.  a conviction of devoting to a life of conserved rite.  a conviction that, rather than following survival instincts, there was a choice, at all.

notice, a frown pinching into pallor and a crooked line that ought to resemble a smile, but did it terribly so, marred her pretty visage as her spoken point dilated to the nonsensical.  the denial so outstretched, it portrayed no longer her own instilled thought.    “ it is not that i want him to do this for me, or that he should continue it.  moreover, he is quite hypocritical ... ”    you see, every day, solheim’s high priestess lied through her teeth.  about a good, giving godhead and redeeming salvation under the throne of his mercy ;  about worship and a cause greater than the worshipers.  every day, she lied about picking up the skeletal remains of a dormant faith, and promised to her subjects a myth cased in crystal.  in turn, she lowered her secrets into the coffin of her past, in hopes the valkyric goddess would find and care for them behind valhalla’s fog and the rotting dreams of sorrowful mwynn.  then she smothered that memory, until her woes emptied and interchanged with robes and a scepter invoking divination, forgot what other purpose her hands served than to reach for the voided universe.  for this reason, she lied again, and again, and again ;  until she believed she wanted the barren holiness, and found herself utterly bemused by the absolute ease it required to welcome festering love to creep through the spaces between her gilded ribs.

“ …  he is so …  stubborn, and foolish.  he does not listen, and i  —  ”    oh, look at her.  poor, wretched woman.  suddenly, her hands were meant to touch the heart of another, and the lies were mouthed with naught more than displeasure ;  for there was this man who learned to know her beyond them, as well as she acknowledged his reckless, careless, endearing whimsicality.  his clumsy struggles and lovable qualities.  and, truthfully, resistance could only be considered an impossible effort.  the thought of such alone torturous enough that she preferred to be snapped out of it by the curious impressions within the glance of her starry sibling  —  the sheer tease radiating off of the silent expression suggested full awareness of the remaining contents within the muffled sentence.    “ don’t you look at me like that now.  besides, something tells me a similar experience plagues and blesses you. ”

  *  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂    :    feelings.

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒.    being unable to stop smiling. laughter. bear hugs. happy tears. waving arms around. dancing. contently sighing. eyes twinkling. laughter lines. childlike playfulness. skipping. talking more. affection. cracking more jokes than usual. gesturing more when talking. higher pitched voice. squealing. jumping around. clapping.

𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒.    tearing up. self-hugging. one-arm cross. an aching chest. scratchy throat. a runny nose. turning away. deep breaths. quivery smiles. crying. infantile sobbing. hands gripping each other or an object. covering mouth. puffy eyes. eyes appear red. voice breaking. a distant or empty stare. monotone voice. asking for comfort. faking a smile. crumbling. shaking. whimpering. depression. abusing an unhealthy habit. withdrawing from others. big teary eyes. doing something even if it could hurt them.

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑.    furrowed brows. baring teeth. passive-aggressive comments. avoiding eye contact. sarcasm. headache. sore muscles. hiding clenched fists. irritability. jumping to conclusions. raising voice. going silent. demanding immediate action. keeping it all in until exploding. body tensing. making risky decisions. middle finger.

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑.    wanting to flee or hide. what-ifs. images of what-could-be flashing in mind. uncontrollable trembling. rapid breathing. screaming. a skewed sense of time. irritability. keeping silent. denying fear. turning away from the cause. pretending to be brave. nail-biting. lip-biting. scratching skin. a joking tone but a voice that cracks. fainting. insomnia. panic attacks. exhaustion. substance abuse. tics. rushing adrenaline. face draining of color. hair lifting on the back of the neck. feeling rooted to the spot. making body as small as possible. staring but not seeing. crying. a shrill voice. whispering. gripping something or someone. stuttering. flinching at noises. pleading.

𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.    constantly yawning. blurring words together. dark circles or lines under eyes. mood swings. hallucinations. calling people by the wrong name. dizziness. denying they’re tired. slow blinking. trouble concentrating. stumbling. leaning on a doorframe for support. sluggish movements. falling asleep someplace that isn’t a bed. becoming irritated by the smallest things. “I’m awake, I’m fine.”. shaking so bad they spill their drink. fall asleep in their clothes. lay their head on the table because they’re so tired. passing out.

Tagged by :    @reginrokkr​ Tagging :  @asterites  /  @asteriskheart  ( aera uwu )  /  @entropyes​ /  @battleshot​  + anyone who wants to and has the time

moon snakes, tongues of the dark speak like bones unlocking, leaves falling of a future you won’t believe in

Margaret Atwood, from You Are Happy; The Circe/Mud Poems. (via xshayarsha)

Send a 👫and I’ll write four headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship  [ ACCEPTING ]

@moonichor​ 

they both love to learn things through each other, and take enjoyment in doing it. Prompto likes to show Lunafreya his new lenses for his camera, explaining what each one does, how it effects the shot, and he loves using Lunafreya as a model ( bc ,,, lets face it ,,,, you won’t get closer to natural beauty than Her! ) and, in return, Prompto learns all about Tenebrae, her family, what it is to be a Princess. It’s pretty clear early on how Noctis and she have lived different lives. 

But, he makes it his goal to always make her smile. Be it a stupid joke, telling her a story about him and Noctis and some of the antics they have got into trouble over, or, letting her simply laugh at him ( though she probably tries to mask it, not wanting to offend/upset him ) when he struggles to do something (( such as her helping him learn a new skill – maybe how to eat with fancy cutlery,,, lord not me imagining Prompto being invited for tea and making an absolute FOOL of himself )) 

He brings her little sweet treats, that just so happened to be his fave as a kid, so he indulges with her as its a special occasion, but is still very mindful of his triggering foods from youth. 

She’s probably the only one he lets place a hand over his, and just be gentle with him, without overthinking it beyond that of her kind nature. Though, he definitely blushes each and every time, but it offers a different kind of comfort to that of his friends, (ignis, noct, gladio) 

@battleshot​  :   He will *try* to flatter akjsfceimjga

ah, he is struggling a little.  it is quite adorable, indeed, how he resembles a shy chocobo chick ;  and upon noticing so she hardly can suppress the urge to pet his hair.  in fact, she does it anyways.  there, there.

@hikarizora​  :   She's going to flatter her uwu

“ and i am humbled, truly.  but who am i to accept flattery when you are deserving of it yourself ?  if i may be so bold to admit, you are rather beautiful. “

moon moon has appeared ! what to do ?

act cool cuddle flatter make them mine

𝑫𝑰𝑨𝑳𝑶𝑮𝑼𝑬  𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺.

↬   THE  INFERNAL  DEVICES  SERIES   (  2010 - 2013  )  by  cassandra  clare.

sentences  taken  from  or  inspired  by  the  dialogue  from  the  series,  including  the  books  clockwork  angel,  clockwork  prince,  &  clockwork  princess.

+   feel  free  to  change  pronouns  /  roles  !

‘  one  must  always  be  careful  of  books,  and  what  is  inside  them.  ’

‘   we  live  and  breathe  words.  ’

‘  if  there  is  no  one  in  the  world  who  cares  for  you,  do  you  really  exist  at  all  ?  ’

‘  they  say  time  heals  all  wounds,  but  that  presumes  the  source  of  grief  is  finite.  ’

‘  requited  love  is  nice,  but  it  doesn’t  make  much  of  a  ballad.  ’

‘  i  am  not  the  one  of  us  who  has  no  heart.  ’

‘  i  haven’t  broken  his  heart  at  all.  ’

‘  you  don’t  know  that  there’s  only  oblivion  after  death.  ’

‘  if  you  have  the  soul  of  a  warrior,  you  are  a  warrior.  ’

‘  i  thought  we  could  at  least  talk  about  books.  ’

‘  there’s  plenty  of  sense  in  nonsense  sometimes,  if  you  wish  to  look  for  it.  ’

‘  pointless,  needless  suffering  and  pain  ?  i  don’t  suppose  it  would  help  if  i  told  you  that  was  the  way  life  is.  ’

‘  you  hurt  everyone.  everyone  whose  life  you  touch.  ’

‘  it’s  all  heartbreak,  death,  and  unrequited  love.  ’

‘  such  harsh  truths  so  early  in  the  morning  cannot  be  good  for  the  digestion.  ’

‘  hell  is  cold.  ’

‘  i  seek  scandal  and  low  companionship.  ’

‘  perhaps  we  do  need  a  chaperon.  ’

‘  death  could  be  imminent.  ’

‘  the  handsome  fellow  that’s  trying  to  rescue  you  from  a  hideous  fate  is  never  wrong.  ’

‘  i  have  lost  everything.  ’

‘  who  said  we  were  owed  happiness  ?  what  about  what  we  owe  others  ?  ’

‘  he’s  going  to  kill  someone.  or  get  us  killed.  ’

‘  clearly  the  word  excellent  means  something  else  on  this  side  of  the  atlantic.  ’

‘  you  may  hide  here  with  me,  if  you  wish.  ’

‘  with  god  on  your  side,  what  does  luck  matter  ?  ’

‘  are  you  highly  intoxicated  at  the  moment  ?  ’

‘  you  wish  to  marry  me  now  ?  ’

‘  entreat  me  not  to  leave  thee.  ’

‘  don’t  be  ordinary  like  that.  ’

‘  is  it  because  i’m  better  looking  than  you  ?  ’

‘  dreams  can  be  dangerous  things.  ’

‘  declarations  of  love  amuse  me.  ’

‘  be  prepared  to  swoon  at  my  finery.  ’

‘  i  don’t  believe  you  can  threaten  people  into  goodness.  ’

‘  finally  broke  down  and  admitted  you’re  in  love  with  me,  have  you  ?  ’

‘  i  say  this  out  of  pure  selfishness.  ’

‘  is  loyalty  still  a  commendable  quality  if  it  is  misdirected  ?  ’

‘  you  must  be  terribly  dull  witted.  ’

‘  you  need  not  be  so  careful.  i  will  not  break.  ’

‘  there  is  more  to  living  than  not  dying.  ’

‘  men  may  be  stronger,  but  it  is  women  who  endure.  ’

‘  was  there  ever  a  more  beautiful  sound  than  your  name  ?  ’

‘  we  do  not  have  to  carry  the  burden  of  their  choices  or  sins.  ’

‘  life  is  full  of  risks.  death  is  much  simpler.  ’

‘  you  serve  a  greater  cause.  your  life  is  not  yours  to  throw  away.  ’

‘  there  are  so  many  worse  things  than  death.  not  to  be  loved  or  not  to  be  able  to  love,  that  is  worse.  ’

‘  you  are  human.  never  think  that  you  are  not.  ’

‘  if  you’re  determined  to  follow  me  into  hell,  i  cannot  stop  you.  ’

‘  i’ve  always  wanted  to  see  hell.  doesn’t  everyone  ?  ’

‘  come  back  to  me,  for  i  cannot  bear  to  lose  all  my  heart.  ’

‘  i  am  catastrophically  in  love  with  you.  ’

‘   i  can  offer  you  my  heart,  though  i  have  no  idea  how  many  more  beats  it  shall  sustain.  ’

‘  our  souls  are  knit.  we  are  one  person.  ’

‘  i  do  not  want  to  sit  by  while  tragedy  comes  for  us.  ’

‘  i  am  leaving,  but  i  am  living.  i  will  not  be  gone  from  you  entirely.  ’

‘  they  say  that  you  cannot  love  two  people  at  once.  ’

‘  i  cannot  leave  you  to  face  death  alone.  ’

‘  when  i  breathe,  i  will  think  of  you,  for  without  you  i  would  have  been  dead  years  ago.  ’

‘  the  world  is  a  wheel.  when  we  rise  and  fall,  we  do  it  together.  ’

‘  you  are  the  first  dream  of  my  soul,  the  only  dream  i  was  unable  to  stop  myself  from  dreaming.  ’

‘  when  i  am  in  the  darkness,  i  want  to  think  of  it  in  the  light,  with  you.  ’

‘  heroes  endure  because  we  need  them.  not  for  their  own  sakes.  ’

‘  if  there  is  a  life  after  this  one,  let  me  meet  you  in  it.  ’

‘  life  is  a  book,  and  there  are  a  thousand  pages  i  have  not  yet  read.  ’

‘  words  have  the  power  to  change  us.  ’

The world is entire, and I am outside of it, crying …  —

katrien de blauwer  /  edith sitwell  /  e. m. forster  /  anaïs nin  /  virginia woolf  /  h. g. wells

   *  //   𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐆 .

NOVEMBER 19TH,   1970,   18:27PM ███████ MANOR,   WESTCHESTER COUNTY,   NEW YORK,   UNITED STATES.

ZERO:   𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎,  𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔. BIG BOSS:   𝚒’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜. ZERO:   𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚜,  𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍,  𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢.    𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚋𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜.    𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚘,  𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔.    𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎. BIG BOSS:   𝚒’𝚖 𝚗𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚘,  𝚍𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚍.    𝚒’𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍-𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚛. ZERO:   𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔,  𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎.    𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚎𝚜.    𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚗,  𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛      ——      𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊 𝚗𝚞𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚘𝚗,  𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚓𝚘𝚋. BIG BOSS:    [𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐] ZERO:   𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚋𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗.    𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢’𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍.    𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚝.    𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎,  𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚜𝚖,  𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.    𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜,  𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐈𝐒  𝐇𝐎𝐖  𝐘𝐎𝐔  𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃    𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇   𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉   𝒂   𝒕𝒆𝒏   𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅   𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒓    champagne flute in your hand,  putting a convenient face whilst mingling  ‘midst a room of serpents and pink-cheeked sycophants,  the crowd of self-christened ‘elites’.    here you are,  their  concocted idol,  exchanging  forced smiles  and  ingratiating salutations  with utmost reticence as they gather around you like a  band of hawks   /   suffocate you   /   make you feel  less  like a man and more like a dangling pound of  fresh meat  on display for the ravening masses,  salivating   /   eager to feast off  carrion fame.    you nod mechanically   /   uncomfortably,  move out of every casual touch,  a drunken shoulder clap,  a girl trying to chat you up      ——      they are  blind  to the blood clots  on your teeth   /   the hands smirched  red-matricide-regret   /   the mutilating grief transmogrifying your heart into one great abscess    [    it refuses to go away.    ]      ——      you do not need their emptied congratulations,  seeds of anger sprouting at the accursed title of ‘big boss’ spilling reverently from forked tongues,  an epithet so sorely  pyrrhic-won.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇  𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃  𝐖𝐀𝐒  𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑  𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓  𝐅𝐎𝐑  𝐘𝐎𝐔.     you have never been good at feigning  normalcy,  wearing ill-fitting human skin,  civilian clothes unbecoming of a man that wild.    you feel like a twarthed   /   naked   /   trapped animal.    (    no,  you don’t need any of it      ——      what you need is to clear your head because your chest is too tight,  the crowd is  too close   /   too loud,  they are taking up all the oxygen and it’s gotten too hard to breathe and you want to escape   /   lash out   /   rip at muscle and bone and claw your way out before you   -    )    check your blindspot,  case the room  :   there is no clear through-line to the exit.    east,  there is a door      ——      but you cannot say where it leads.    (    better to make for the kitchen,  take your chances in the service tunnels.    they checked your gun at the door,  but you’ve made do with  a knife  in worse situations.    you   -    )    see a window of retreat near the banquet table.    you turn,  make your way there in a hurried stride,  wholly undismayed by the expressions of annoyance you receive at the  rudeness  of your escape. 𝒚𝒐𝒖   𝒄𝒂𝒏   𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆   𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒕’𝒔   𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒆   𝒐𝒏   𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓   𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌    as you evade the throng of bodies and approach a lengthy table brimming with saccharine delicacies.    you stop   /   breath   /   tamp down  instincts  to flee when the burgeoning leonine hunger pangs.    frowning,  you stare at the multicolored appetisers   /   most of which you have never seen before   /   till you take a pair of  meat skewers  and start gnawing at them like a  beast of prey.    a sudden presence at your side provokes chin to rise   /   eye to meet a crown of gold,  wintry blues  peering at you under the heliacal glow of a crystalline chandelier,  and you   -    (    remember the passive  coldness  of her face,  standing in that field as white petals whipped around your ankles.    she gave  her body  and  her child  to her country,  carried her scar as proof,  was willing to mactate herself upon  flowered altars  for a purpose beyond comprehension.    how does she expect you to do the  same  ?    you don’t understand,  you   -    )    see red,  press your eye shut but the petals remain,  like they’re stuck to the flesh of your eyelid.

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇   /   𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃   /   𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘,    shake your head      ——      she is not here.    she is dead.    this is reality.    you turn back to your food   /   get a proper sidelong look at the woman,  recognize her  for who she truly is  ;   lunafreya nox fleuret,  the  sovereign  of a protectorate in the middle of a political scuffle,  more of a  figurehead  on their machinations than a queen    [    much like you.    ]    her brother is a soldier,  acting as her dutiful custodian      ——      you recall shaking his hand briefly in the crowd,  he seemed as  disinclined  to be here as you.    you store the  information  away   /   attempt to be conversational:             ❛    leurs brochettes ne sont pas mauvaises.    mais je préfère encore manger du serpent que ça.    ❜    you say,  french fluently falling off your lips without much pondering.

@moonichor

𝐀 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 :   painted thickly with a layer of varnish, framed in pale fools gold  —  and she, a simple corner ornament.  she was made for this ;  noble-bred, a carefully hand-crafted icon.  wrought for the masses and self-appointed deities to utilize.  they seized and struggled for symbols in order to secure the slightest figment of influence, and if it were not over her, then they would compete over someone else.  they picked their gemstones to toss in the treasure chamber, leaving them without the glimmer, adulterating them within the shadowy obscurities, never to be seen on the television screen.  their ghastly tongues prattled inconceivably, in unison, to attribute to a synchronized white noise. 

with appetite did they seek her attention, too ;  ignorant of the tattered brims which remained proof of military sin and the crime to weaponize innocence like a volatile explosive.  it was a slow killing of a girl who had come to understand this as the typical behavior of hierarchical leeches, demonstrating their feigned relief to have just barely so slipped through the war-cracks.  of course, this was merely show, as they so blithely monetized the shed gore and radioactive bones.  this enormous gauge of politics spanned itself over each head, slithered with haughty threat, ‘twixt the pillars of it all where one specific chancellor watched over every singular motion of hers.  in sickening amounts so, that she urged to swiftly disappear among the crowd, toward the other side of these halls where she found …  you.    (  a trojan paradox, agonized with frauds, and praises for valor, and terrible expectations.  )    curiosity begged for satisfaction and dictated her walk, feather-light, beside you, only to sense a deeply rooted pain projected and carved into her marble-frozen apparition.

then  —  a perplexing dialogue.

“ pardon ? ”    unexpectedly widened brows and eyelids for commentary this macabre.  she fell through clouds.  etiquette quickly revised and staggering back into composure.  here she stood, not a single inch moved, silver-graced and primly kept, soft-handed and crystal-adorned —  in audience with a beast :    a rawed-up, wild child, clad in a man’s muscular structure, bearing its patron status like an ill-fitting crown, which it’s been so compelled to remove.  aggressively.  something equivalent to horror and awe struck her still, an astonished sentiment, existing between a deer and a bear.  suddenly, illogically, her personal tatteredness did not matter.  someone was always frayed more crudely, the eyes more bloodshot, the lungs more filled with desert-dust, the flowerbeds more stained with a carmine shade.    “ vous semblez être un homme avec un sens du goût incomparable. ”    at last, a response to indulge the attempt.  it might also be her individual attempt to shake off the paralyzation.    “ forgive me if it was my approach that caused you to jolt.   but you gave the impression to be in distress.  are you unwell, sir ? ”

  *  //  𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 .​

𝘼𝙯𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙤𝙪𝙨  𝙤𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙨  𝙜𝙖𝙯𝙚  𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙤  𝙩𝙝𝙚  𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙙  𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮  𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙨,      the  sun  beams    mockingly,    citizens  gathering  in      fear  and  concern    for  that  which  will  become  of  their    beloved  city.    Prompto  was  merely  a  pawn  in  the  game.  Still,  if  he  could  make      any      difference…    (  would  it    make    a  difference  ??    )

Just  beyond  the  window  he  dissociates  from,  a  small  patch  of  flowers,  a  yellow  hue,  but  too  far  off  that  Prompto  couldn’t    distinctively    label  them.  Swaying  this  way  and  that,  carefree,  petals  caressed  by  gentle  breeze.  Oh,      what  a  gift  that  must  be.      To  be      free.

𝑨  𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕  𝒐𝒇  𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚.

    They    deserved  that;    he    deserved  that.  They      survived.      Was  that  enough?  Was  it    fair    that  they  were  to  live  when  many  others  had    perished?  

He  could  not  have  predicted  how  long  the  Oracle  had  been  witness  to  his  sighs  and  exhales.  Stance  mostly  relaxed,  hands  in  pockets,  elbows  bent  slightly.  Every  few  minutes  would  he  shift,  unable  to  stay  still  for  long;  he  was    far    too    anxious.  

            Though  something  made  him  look  over  his  shoulder,  lips  dividing  and  shifting  to  address  her  once  he  acknowledged  her  presence.        ❝      —  Lunafreya!  I    uh…    Sorry  –    didn’t  see  you  standing  there  ….      ❞    A  posture  of  respect,  appropriate  for  royalty,  this  to  be  their  first  encounter  that  wasn’t  amidst  the  masses.  

It  was  as  if  she  could  see  the  inner  sketchings  of  his  mind,  scribbled  on  notebooks  that  were      scrapped    and    discarded,      never  to  be  considered  again.  

  ❛    𝑤𝑒  𝑎𝑙𝑙  𝑑𝑖𝑒  𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒.    ❜        @ereipiia    / @moonichor  +    luna

  An  unnerving  noise.    Momentarily  paralysed  in      shock.      And  as  he  tries  to  minimize  the  appearance  of  rudeness,  his  lips  meet  in  a  thin  line.  Briefly  looking  outside,  once  again,  he  lightly  bites  the  inside  of  his  cheek.  No  doubt      he  knew      what  she  was  stating  was  true.  

      ❝  …  Suppose  none  of  us  want  our  deaths  to  be  in  vain,  though…      ❞ 

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 ,  𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇.    rightfully so, she pensively inferred, by mustering visions of the demanding sea :    its harrowing, pitiless currents were to extract sylva’s daughter from the living world, and edged alone at glistening patterns was (im)mortality preordained to hunt her, the blue pigment of sylleblossom weeds pressed against her cheeks.  most ironic, therefore, to find a city, as illustrious as the altissian grandeur, to be so intimately surrounded by aquatic chant and the under-worldly domain of a serpentine goddess, whose anticipated waking hour prompted an abrupt halt to the peace of its dwellers ;  gave the common salt-flavored air a concerning density.  

as per historic routine, man loved his gods, until he feared them.

fear, however, was an unavailable luxury in close proximity with the impending tipping-point of diurnal scales.  and what good was fear, if it instilled no power to prevent eos’ waning ?  what good was fear, if it only petrified ?  yet, we shan’t let it be forgotten that fading and blending into obsidian blood guaranteed the end of the road for all oracles, from first to last  —  produced to alleviate the world, except their own person.  ever since life paraded itself as a condition of endurance, she hardened the heart and numbed her lachrymal reflexes to the certain and uncertain.      (  endure endure endure    /    live live live  —  akin to a vista of flowers outside the torrent’s edge ;  akin to those flowers under this frame, visibly frail, yet persistent against ramuh’s breath.  )    

“ … ”    her silhouette but a half-ghostly husk, vague on the window glass, brooding in the mirror, tugged between alive and wordlessly falling apart.  with sharp thought, her own quietude ceased to extend itself, and instead allowed the unspoken to be spoken.     “ i concur  —  to vanish unfulfilled and meaninglessly is an undesirable outcome. ”    though admitted with rare personal honesty, it came with the cost of regret.  the occasion to meet a sweet, old friend ought not to be besmirched with doom and gloom.  click of heels met tiling, while the somberness re-sculpted itself to absolute indifference in the face of events she expected but had yet to occur.  an indifference she mastered exceptionally well with the petite mask of a friendly facade.    

“ did i startle you earlier ?  my apologies.  it was very inappropriate of me. ”

  *  𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀 .

i.    selene, in context of ffxv lore, is an astral, but of course, not part of the hexatheon.  given her role as the moon, she is bound to eos and plays a vital part in the planet’s balance. 

ii.    on this blog, there are several categories of astrals, including sub-species to which less powerful divinities and messengers count.  1 )  the main hexatheon that rule the divine hierarchy, are elemental deities and the primary guardians of the planet.  2 )  while the elemental astrals shaped the planet with their resources, they required the assistance of their luminous brethren who provided their light.  sun, moon, and dawn are siblings who contribute to the planet’s creation and of them, eos received the most respect, hence they named the globe after her.

iii.    in parallel to the greek selene’s battle against the feared TYPHOEUS, the astral selene battled against a great manifestation of the star scourge risen in the astral war, and from this wrestle, received scars / craters and fell into a deep slumber.

iv.    now comatose, selene dreams.  and through this, experiences an out-of-body wandering and incarnated into the oracle bloodline.  ironically with the chaos of the star scourge, she would be able to ascend to godhood and return to her lunar body.

v.    all luminous deities have been affected by the scourge in some way or another and have then fallen one by one ever since.  their absence has caused the plague to grow larger with every coming night.

  *   𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 .

i.    tenebrae’s native tongue is based on icelandic and french.

ii.    luna is not gifted in drawing, and frankly is horrible at it, but it still belongs to one of her hobbies, along with journaling and gardening.  she tends to more abstract painting, simply for a creative outlet that requires not much technical skill.

iii.    her artistic affiliation is rather defined by singing, which is more a religious practice as oracle, hence there is only rarely a personal attachment and pride in her angelic voice.  she can barely tend to her favorites of traditional tenebraen folk songs and naturally has to participate in choirs and sacred ceremonies.  as a child, she began to despise singing, and would’ve continued so, had there not been a few examples she could sing in private :  1  /  2  /  3.

iv.    that car scene in kingsglaive where she would take control of the wheel was improvised.  she doesn’t have a license.

v.    she had a grandmother called freyja and was named after her.

vi.    she favors perfumes with mild floral scents, not too sweet or overwhelming, uses them as per her mood, not necessarily the same every day, and tends to experiment.  one day she wears fragrance made from sylleblossom extracts, on another one from lilies or jasmine.

vii.    it is evident that she does not keep sylleblossoms in her room at all times.  perchance the decoration varies from blue poppies, gentianas, or yellow / purple oxeye daisies, whatever the seasons provide.  

viii.    while she is most often seen in white or silvery dresses, she does like to wear black or blue as well.

ix.    for the most part, obviously, her relationship with niflheim’s military is one of suspicion and hostility.  however, there was one soldier who stood watch over her not very long after the invasion, guarded her closely and soon became more a father she never had.  the one exception she made in terms of trusting the wrong side.  the crescent-shaped pendant is an item he gifted to her on her 16th birthday.  one day, he vanished, and luna was left alone with a report of him to be presumed dead.

x.    if there is an alternative timeline where luna survives, she would return to a shorter haircut.

𝑺𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑵𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑺 ( formerly moonichor and deacruor ) : a private / extremely selective writing blog portraying 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐎𝐗 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐘 𝐗𝐕.  this blog will be active at my own leisure and therefore is set on permanent semi-hiatus. first established sep. 2017. loved by steph, early 30s.  psd adjusted.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 // 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒

𝐈 𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 :  heavily inspired by greek, norse and in-game mythology, luna is an incarnation of selene, personification of the moon and sister of eos, whereas i connect luna’s abilities with the norse freyja, goddess of love, war, seidr and gold.  in my portrayal, luna primarily lacks romantic feelings for noctis  and leans more toward familial love instead.  there can and might be exceptions, depending on the plot.  your muse can feel free to make assumptions based on luna's and noctis' arranged engagement, but on an out of character / meta level, this is a relevant detail.

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖 :

be warned that english is not my mother tongue and my prose is rather  meta-heavy.  if you reckon you would be bothered by that, i advise against following.

i welcome pre-established relationships, plotted or improvised threads and duplicates.

i have written luna on and off since 2017, with which i imply that some ideas are adjusted to the most recent updates and others are simply not.  

my archive of ships, past and present, is pretty much extensive, given the years that have gone by, and i do keep a ( one-sided ) ship-exclusive policy in place.  this is why i am very, very tentative towards new romances and do not follow a blog for the purpose thereof.  if i ever propose a close bond while plotting, it is mostly meant with platonic or familial conceptualization in mind.

if you participate in callout culture, please tag it properly.  do not  involve me or send me callouts unless someone committed a crime and  violated a law.  additionally, i have no patience for trivial drama, and  i avoid people at my own discretion, when i see fit.

blogs / fandoms i have little to no interest in and will likely not interact, unless you’re a close friend or writing partner of mine :   genshin / honkai impact ;  anything marvel  --- list is subject to expansion.

a reason for me to soft or hard block is seeing AI generated content on my dashboard ; these include generated music, writing, images. but also the mere mention / advertisement of / linking to generating products or apps will result in a soft block. i do not need those here.

mature content is bound to be presented here.  i will not censor potential themes such as violence, cosmic / body / psychological horror, corruption, religious imagery, trauma and mental illness, war as well as death.  while i am not particularly fond of erotic interaction, i avoid blogs with minor admins regardless.  please, do not expect mutual following if you are below  21.

  *  𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐒    //    𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐒 𝐈  :    𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 .

i.    priesthood and prophethood go hand in hand within the fleuret line.  the magic of oracles is relatively distinct from that of the lucian kings or their warriors.  they receive the word of the gods and the divination of time, understand the astral tongue and the language of the broken heavens, decipher the encrypted vocabulary of the celestials.  they heal, they hear and know, for they and the messengers are closer in relation than gods and man. 

ii.    the practice itself is a form of sacred shamanism    (  derived from seidr of norse society  )    which invokes the shaping of the future, the oracular foresight, incantations that beckon the dawn of tomorrow and the sunlight it bestows, to deliver eos from the grim-reaping plague which worsens in waves as the millenia pass by.  if an oracle is not present to spellcast, and to cure, the night grows rapidly longer and daemonification has free rein.  their healing is absorbtion as they consume the plague with touch.  the absorbed scorge eats on and corrupts the cells, expands to feast on internal organs to activate a decaying process, twist them into the darkness of the night    (  shown by the way ink-like blood leaks both out of ardyn and lunafreya  )

for this reason, oracles normally do not officially carry on the role from their mothers before they reach circa 26-30 years of age and have given birth to children to continue the bloodline before that.  a later succession is common custom in order to avoid any damaging of sexual organs resulting in miscarriage, or daemonification of the fetus nestled in the womb.  however, they haste to become young mothers when they are legal of age.

lunafreya’s early succession at 16 is an abnormality and unusual, hence being the ‘youngest oracle in history’, and as such she decreases the likelihood immensely to bear children herself.  had she not prematurely died from a dagger’s injury, she would either be rendered infertile, or be incredibly hesitant to procreate.

unlike ardyn lucis caelum, fleuret prophets are not bound to become immortal.  rather, their mortality increases quite a bit, and the oracles of yore had since the genesis of their traditions always led shorter lives and they pass away before any mutations can occur.  their average lifespan entails roughly 50 - 60 years.  lunafreya, following her calling like she did, would have potentially died at 40 - 50.  

iii.    astrals and messengers are not the only spiritual entities the oracles commune with.  man being a work of astral hand, and their essence consisting of stardust, the oracles can partly see and speak with the fading particles of souls, soothe the dead, and purify them if necessary.

iv.    traditional / ceremonial gear, as we can see here and here consist of lily-white gowns and matching veiling hats.  a description of seidr sorceresses / seeresses describes one wearing a blue mantle with a staff in her hand.  the blue mantle is worn by the queens, and the staff is represented by the trident.  a parallel to freyja, the goddess associated with seidr, should be also noted in sylva’s feathered mantle, for freyja is in possession of a feathered cloak that grants one the ability to fly.

v.    the role itself is primarily reserved for women of the fleuret house, as the people of tenebrae honored their first queen posthumous.  while as per nature of heritage, male members of the bloodline are capable of practicing, it is socially inacceptable for them to claim the right to it.  nonetheless, some had to become oracle under special circumstances, such as the mother or sister prematurely passing or falling ill via other diseases or disablements, or the male being an only-child, although that would be rare ;  thusly he aids the people instead, sings to the slumbering gods to receive their blessings and rule the queendom, albeit immensely critizised by his subjects.  women who never were able to use this magic were seen as incomplete and dysfunctional, and their brothers who were able, were seen as bad omens or false prophets.

vi.    sólarljóð / the song of the sun is preached and popularized via ceremonies to worship and materialize the sun light into the future.  other types of song probably include the stars, moon, dawn, and the world.