mason judas emerson. seventeen. seventh year. slytherin leo ☼ capricorn ☾ virgo ↑ cancer ☿ taurus ♀ scorpio ♂ patronus: leopard. boggart: unknown. wand: to be noted. member of magical creatures club & the lansdowne (gentlemen’s club).
She nodded as Mason uttered his name. Her had was in her hair, and the other was clutching the jacket closed. The beads of sweat that crowded her forehead made her feel cold as the early January winter wind picked up off the London streets.
Nora looked up at Mason. She mustered a smile and replied, “If wishes were brooms, beggars would ride” It was a nursery rhyme that for at the moment popped into her head.
“If mandrakes were watches, I’d wear one by my side,” He replied back at her warmly, taking his jacket that she clutched onto so tightly and placed it back around her shoulders. Mason had remembered the rhyme from many years ago, a phrase that seemed to stir a comforting feeling within him and wished she felt as well. However, she had meant the rhyme to be bitter and tried to hide it with a smile. “I do not wish for you to wear the jacket, I need for you to wear the jacket,” Mason’s words flowed smoothly and a blissful smile upon his face, “There is no need to get sick just to show that not everyone get’s what they desire.”
Venus in Taurus
Earthy, sensual and warm, but slow to warm up, love blossoms for you when you approach it at a natural and easy pace. You know when to stop and smell the roses, and appreciate the simple luxuries that comprise real happiness. Thus, you find it.
Your Love Charm: your confident ease, comfort in your own skin, that je ne sais quois causing others to feel totally secure in your presence.
Criteria for a Soul Mate: a loyal, easygoing and highly reliable soul mate. There’s no guess work involved with this person – they make you feel safe, secure and comfortable. No one night stands for you; you play for keeps.
Your Attract-ive Power: the power of tranquility. Sit on a hilltop, stop and smell the flowers, have a sip of tea. However you do it, just calm down. Be still and love’s riddles become clear.
Your Shadow: choosing the safe and secure partnership over one that challenges you to move out of your comfort zone and grow.
Your Venus Archetype: the caretaker, sweet pea, Eve (of Adam & Eve), Aphrodite, pin-up, beauty queen, trophy wife, silent screen actress, banker’s daughter, millionaire heiress, earth mama, nature lover, queen, matriarch.
Think With Your Venus Mantra: I am a living, breathing, walking, talking Goddess with a bootylicious bod to boot. This doesn’t make me a doll; I have real talents. I am resourceful with my talents.
Sun-bread + Stories :: Letter to Nora :: June 22nd, 2012
Dearest Nora,
It’s such a pleasure to hear of the cheer your Midsummer brought you. Playing in the sun and soaking in the moons rays, watching the little ones dance around until they can no longer stand. I know that you must have had your hands full and a smile upon your loving face at every moment. What a pleasure it must be to wake up next what it all was, relishing in your memories of the night before as you submerge enter the mountain waters. The first morning rays of summer are the most energizing, the celestial’s baptizing their power over your body and breathing it in.
As tradition has it, I spent my midsummer around the Emerson abode with a select few. I had awoken just a little past dawn with Goliath at the foot of the bed and gave him a good scratching. When he was still reluctant to emerge from his cozy corner, I decided to began with my shower ritual instead. Light summer sounds flowing in and out of the bath, a small London breeze in the air. Soon I was dressed and sitting in front of my altar, feeling the power surging through me. Just underneath the music, I could faintly hear the start of my mum’s preparation work but it was easy to ignore. I must say, each time I do this I feel even more like myself... more attuned. Do you ever feel such lightness within you? I mustn’t be the only.
By the time I was finished, it was almost time for Rose to arrive for brunch and I could tell Goliath was itching for a meal. The smells that drifted up the halls was like nothing I can describe. Stuffed chicken with dates, maple bacon strips, lemon coffee cakes, honey glazed lavender scones, fruit salads, rosemary quiches and even faerie honey-cakes. All my summer favorites lay before me and it was quite hard to contain myself. I believe almost had two serves with just my fingers alone! Truly she had outdone herself this year, but my mum refuses to have it any other way.
Rose is typically the last to arrive to the house, but Ismene is truly as slow as a bull in the morning. By the time she finally came town from our guest room, we (Mum, Pop, Rose and I) had already made it a quarter of the way into A Midsummer’s Night Dream. Maybe it’s just the season, but I always feel as though Ismene floats through it with such ease. An element I feel you both share. So light and refreshing, like stepping into a cool drizzle on a warm summer day.
Just before dinner, Rose and I will always make the sun-bread and smoke a few splifs. By this time, my parents were off to their own pleasures away from the homenand never mind leaving us to our own demise. A trust that I find extremely hard to break, or possibly I just have no desire to break it? We finished the tale and take the bread to the roof, along with several of the leftovers from the mid-morning feast. Several years prior, I had come up with the brilliant idea to add an addition on. Now if you turn the attic leaver counter and go through, the room turns more into a solarium.
The rest of the night is always filled with stories, rolled joints and faerie fruit juice spiked with whiskey. Talks of which creatures we should research next and what else the summer might bring, cats by our side and Ismene showing us weird new tunes. It’s rare that it gets much more lively than this, Litha being a calm and comforting affair around here. We dance and sing, drunkenly dine again in time for one one last splif while the sun comes up. Sharing our thanks along with hopes for the season upon us, we came down from our stowaway and went stumbling to bed.
I apologize if my story was much too long, but I was very delighted to share.
ROSE + MASON - MAYFAIR TO TILBURY, ESSEX | SUMMER 2012
Mason’s Journal. Date: Tuesday, June 19th, 2012.
On the record, four in the morning is wretchedly early but adventure does not have those perceptions. Nor can it feel the morning after a shared bottle of bourbon between only yourself and another. Yet, as soon as the rich, dark, comforting Colombian aromas filled the kitchen, I was anxious to head out.
It wasn’t until I was placing the cheese on our breakfast sarnies when Rose finally came down, looking as though she was still rubbing off the night before. Her hair was damp and unruly, as though she showered and went back to sleep. She slide into her usual spot onto the counter, where I have started to place her coffee cup when she stays, and perched up to look at me, “Are there any rasher’s left?”
I gave her a sheepish grin, holding up a small baggy full that I hadn’t packed yet, “I thought you would want them along our way, care for them now instead?”
She nodded her head lightly, taking her first sips of coffee before I finally made it over with the bacon. “Care for any help?” Rose asked when I had finally reached her, opening the baggy to snag a strip. Her voice was still a little horse, probably from having one too many fags, but the warm stiff was really helping.
“No,” I replied smoothly, but anyone could tell that there was this cheerfulness and excitement ringing through the words, “Everything is ready when you are.”
Before long, our packs were on and the bikes were loaded. Although we could be there within minutes, Rose and I enjoy the long ride. Especially this time of year. The mornings are still chilly, just barely at 60 degrees as the sun begins to rise and the fog gently blankets the ground around you. We decided to skip the ride by Winter Wonderland, making our way down to Green Park to visit Buckingham Palace instead. The area is always gorgeous, flowers always seeming to be in bloom, but typically really touristy. Unless, of course, you know the right times to go.
St James’s Park was also very empty, which gave to a very pleasant start as we made way to cross at Big Ben. Folks in their morning suits were starting to pass us by when we finally made it to Shakespeare’s Globe, traditionally where we sit to eat our packed breakfast. I looked down at my watch to find it was a quarter past seven in the morning, stomach rumbling as we found a bench along River Thames. The Globe stood stoically behind us as we tore through our meals, hardly saying a word to each other until our bellies were fat and round.
It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes before we set out again, quickly sharing a fag before we headed off. We wouldn’t truly stop again until Greenwich, possibly my favorite place to visit along the way. It’s full of parks, history and not to mention where the Queen was known to rest her head. Passing many different shops, we did whatever caught our attention. From what looked to be the art district, to the Greenwich Market district (where we enjoyed a different array of street foods), down to the Pier to check out Cutty Sark.
Rose always insists that we do a tour of the ship, even though we have seen the inside a handful of times, turning into a small child as we approached. After we finally locked our bikes, Rose and I opened the doors to head into the Cutty Sark Museum. I truly do savor the first moments her eyes gaze upon the ship, which is as innocent as a newborn discovering the world, even if I didn’t show it. Rose gets this innocence about her when we are traveling that you just can’t put into words, but when you are with her you can always feel it. Almost, exhilarating.
After I was good and nackered from hearing about which teas were aboard, Rose bought a box of her favorite Lady Gray and we walked over to our best find. The pub was built sometime in the late 1700s, showing it with it’s historic build and “apartment above” feel. Sometime in the 1970s, it was named Gipsy Moth and has been a magnificent and cozy scene. We opted for the seats to view the ship, even though the gardens above are quite marvelous. We both had a sense that this view was more appropriate for the day, preferring the smell of water and winds carrying it’s sprays versus the buzzing of bees and flourishing nursery.
After we ordered our first round, Rose had let out a soft sigh and looked longingly at the timid streets of Greenwich. The only crowds around us were townies, simpler Muggles instead of all the ones that went to the University. Young and irritatingly reckless, but I generally don’t care much for my own age. I smiled gently, looking out towards the same similar direction when she spoke, muttering bits about the grindylow’s and how we could possibly manage with just the two of us.
Our drinks came rather quickly. Rose and I both ordered different branded lagers, taking turns sipping each others and freely debated on who’s was better. I believe the Bear Face Lager was top notch, but I always let her win. Once our dauphinoise potatoes and Welsh rarebit sausages arrived, our chatter was in full swing. We changed through many topics, but continued to land on Mervillage and our plan to connect with the creatures in the lake. I must confess, I haven’t been the most buoyant when it comes to her latest endeavors and her fascination with the Merpeople. Not that I wouldn’t want to understand more about their kind, but we would still be putting ourselves into danger.
“Bubblehead is the perfect way,” she said to me, still thrilled with our chances and drive to discover. Something that I commend in an individual.
“You are correct,” I replied, still trying to give her an optimistic tone and caring smile, “I just worry.”
After one last round, we decided to go for a short walk around the Pier. The smell of the river greeted us as we trotted, so crisp that my nose slightly burned and Rose’s had turned a blush pink. Neither of us wanted to share, insisting we needed our own fag after having stuffed ourselves to the brim with pure glutenous intentions. As we putzed around, we discussed where we were heading next and decided it was about time for us to continue on. Rose had even started buzzling slightly as we made our way back to the bikes, hair bouncing within the wind as the beer fully let loose into her blood stream.
Is there something about a fresh berry pie that can makes summer feel whole? Or is the glass of sun tea you have with it? Nay, I feel that it’s the love behind the food that makes you whole. My mother has a way about in the kitchen that brings me back to the carefree days of my youth.
A Welsh summer is as unpredictable as a Sphinx. It stormed all morning, then the sun broke and made the air thick like honey. Albeit, I confess, I would prefer to spend my entire life in the country. The trees are full and the water is clear as it breaks over the river rocks. And the berries! They’re so ripe they stain the soles of your feet. The solidarity of the country is what I crave. Never simplistic, just harmony.
Alas, there is blue sky. I must chase it.
Yours,
Elinor
@etherealemerson
Dearest,
Envious of your tale of berries, how the river must feel as it washes away the bits of dirt and juices, I once again find myself running off onto the next adventure. My soul longed for solitude, something that the bustling city just can’t restore. In consequence, I discover my body now off the shores of Fairlight, U.K. It’s early, so early in fact that those lovely dancing rays are just now beginning to happily awake the dormant Mother. The beach is small, leaving the shoreline full of jagged rocks and fallen shrubs, still too implanted into the soil to completely die and awaits the inevitable fall into the tides. Much like many of us, feeling the last of the dewy sea breeze and breathtaking view as we stare into our fate.
Ah! How marvelous indeed is this day! Just as I write you, a stunning burnt orange fox has emerged from the forest’s treeline to catch her breakfast.
Enjoy the pressed wildflowers, for they reminded me of you. Beautiful and as wild as your soul.
Nora walked with Mason over to the conjured chair, and Mason guided to the seat. She shakily reached for the glass of water from Mason’s grip. “It wasn’t a testament to you… I swear. I just–just.” Nora’s free hand reached for the hem of her dress. “How could he do that! Why?!” Hot tears filled her eyes as she looked up at Mason. “I love Chuck. Can you really just fake it? Just switch it off at will?”
Nora leaned back pulling the pea coat around her tight. The sweat that formed from her upchuck stuck to her skin making her fell the chill to her bone. She shivered as it again replayed over again in her mind.
Mason held his jacket in her general direction, “Please keep this on. You don’t need to suffer in order to be polite.” His bright empathetic eyes met her broken ones and he tried to give her a casual smile, "You’re talking about Chuck Wickham, aye?”
He had half expected for her to not say anything about it, not wanting to dive into personal feelings but that wasn’t the case. Trust, which wasn’t foreign to Mason but something that he strongly admired. “I’m pretty sure there is no such thing as an “on and off” button when it comes to emotions, but I’m truly no expert.”
She smiled politely as Mason talked. She was hearing his words but not listening. It’s not that she was trying to be rude, but the image of Chuck’s slobbering lips suctioned to that brunette tramp’s mouth was all she could think about.
As Mason passed her the joint, Nora stared at it. She watched it in his grasp as it smolder red at the end. As she reached out to take it, she started to feel sick. Her stomach was tied in knots. She took a deep breath and tried to exhale the feeling before–
“I don’t–” Nora gagged to the corner of the ally away from the sweet Mason as bile came up from her stomach. She heaved an “I’m so sorry…” before vomiting again.
Very calmly Mason put out the little joint that was being smoked before the two of them. After she chocked out the “I’m so sorry”, he slide the spliff into his pocket and pulled out a black cotton handkerchief. Mason held it at a range that she could easily grab it from any level comfortably, awaiting her to finally be done. Nora gently grabbed the cloth from Mason’s hand, using the brick wall to steady herself again.
“It’s quite alright,” he replied to her, listening to the rhythms of her breathing to make sure she wouldn’t puke again, “Nothing you should be apologizing for.”
Nora shifted her weight, her entire back now pressed against the wall and she was scrunched over her naturally tall frame. Mason quickly scanned the alley way around them. He recognized the random faces that were around him and smiled, pulling out his wand and creating a tall chair with a glass of water atop. “Take a seat.”
Mercury in Cancer people try to speak in a manner that will not hurt other individuals. They try not to yell at people unless they feel they have been pushed to their limit.
mason judas emerson. know the basics. fc: harry lloyd.
“My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. – My good opinion once lost is lost for ever.” - Jane Austen; Pride and Prejudice
Scorpio Mars: you use words to explode on others who threaten you. you can make those who hurt you question themselves and you are never afraid to lay down the ugly truth. when it comes to tasks, you get things done based on how important the end result is for you. and when you get them done, they always turn out near to perfect.
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