oh sweetheart,

i need you  (..) be vigilant. i love you.

[lambentine]

Dulcinea Clementine de Cervantes Saavedra. The Lamb. dependent blog for the trial of hearts. written by naoise, 25, they/them.

Not a person but a piece of porcelain for their shelf. No, your kindness was hard fought, the world and its sharp edges scarred you but did not engrave their misery into your flesh. The lamb, devoured. The lamb, brought up for slaughter to the masses. The lamb, feasted upon. You’ve worked so hard to be this woman.

DOSSIER, SKELETON, PINTEREST.

[lambentine]

Two years ago, a horrific event rocked Cardiff when Johnathan Gallagher was reported to have accidentally drowned while on a yacht trip with Dulcinea Clementine de Cervantes Saavedra (henceforth referred to as de Cervantes). Police were forced to take de Cervantes’ words for what occurred when the body was unable to be recovered due to intense weather and storms that then displaced the body for over two years.

In the meantime, de Cervantes returned to Switzerland to study with little being heard from her until one week ago when a horrific fire consumed a villa and killed several within. Currently, de Cervantes is still being treated for burns and excessive smoke inhalation in Lausanne University Hospital. In the week following the fire, a private diving team managed to recover the body and a full autopsy report was published. It initially seemed that the coroner was corroborating de Cervantes’ story with high levels of alcohol being found in his tissue but de Cervantes’ DNA was found beneath Gallagher’s fingertips and several scratch marks on his face, presumed to be from de Cervantes. These details all directly contradict de Cervantes’ account of the night and drowning and have reopened the case. The Gallagher family is currently attempting to petition the Welsh government to have de Cervantes extradited to Wales to face trial.

Neither de Cervantes nor her parents could be reached at the moment for comments but her lawyer, Caroline Liggins of HJ&A has said a statement will be given as soon as de Cervantes has recovered.

Jonathan Gallagher’s younger brother, Rory Gallagher, was quoted saying, “Finally that bitch is getting done for what she did to my brother,” and “you can never trust women these days”. His parents declined to comment.

➞ Read more about the villa fire at @trialofheartsrpg

SECRET,

It’s hard, isn’t it? To be seen as a person? Everyone likes your soft edges, the pretty smile, the doe eyes– everyone wants to possess you. Not a person but a piece of porcelain for their shelf. It’s important to keep those features poised in the way you need them, to portray the narrative. I didn’t see it happen, sir, your voice has to shake in the right way. You weren’t made for this. For the lies and secrets, you were made to be kind. But this is what the world is demanding from you, as retribution for everyone demanding to have you. There’s a boat, a yacht owned by his father that he takes you out on. You’ve been friends for five years now. And no one just lets you have friends. They’re always clawing and screaming for more. You thought this time was different. And when he grabs you, you fight it—panicked, fearful with eyes as wide and luminous as the full moon in the sky. He goes overboard, into the inky depths, stumbling over the edge—and you stood frozen like a deer in headlights. You should have done something. But he drowned and you watched. When the cops came asking, you shook your head, all neat and careful with everything as your parents' lawyers sat by your side. She was on the other side of the boat when she heard a splash, says the lawyer. Clementine didn’t see anything. He was drunk and went overboard. It happens. The ocean tried to swallow him up, to consume the body so it would never be found. A private diving team found him, your DNA curled under his fingertips. Enough to create plausible doubt in a court of law. Enough to change the narrative that's been so painstakingly fabricated to protect you. The body is buried—for now. And you have to keep it that way.

WRITING,

You clasp the letter tight. Not enough to dent it, no—held so the heavy card digs a groove into your tender palms. It leaves a scorned red mark, and your feet all but wear grooves into the floor where you pace your apartment. Rhythmic and repeated, the sun dips below the horizon before you have finished your manic pacing. This could fix it all. This could expose it all. It invites them into your mausoleum, hands them the shoves to begin digging up the graves in hopes of finding the skeletons you have so painstakingly buried. But it could fix it. If I win. You have already sacrificed so much to ensure the safety of your secret, but this could keep it gone for good. Tied down and sunk into the depths forever. The letter finds a home on your desk, settles in for a few days among the threads of your life you have salvaged together. I could win—you could. But you have always been known for second place. Always scraping in on your hands and knees, given the first place trophy because everyone liked you too much. They wanted to keep you happy, they couldn’t bear to see tears prickle in your waterline at the sense of failure. Pretty girls don’t cry but I sobbed like the world was ending. Dawn and dusk past, nightmares haunt you as you settle into this new reality. Your own words settle heavy, drowning in moments of your static recording. A vision of a woman, mistaken—exposed and harmed. The lamb, devoured. The lamb, brought up for slaughter to the masses. The lamb, feasted upon. It isn’t fair. You’ve worked so hard, for everything. Not just your degrees, not just keeping your secret. You’ve worked so hard to be this woman. Every painstaking moment, carving yourself out in the world. Every single surgery, planned and methodical, calculated and drawn out with artistic intent. You have dedicated yourself to it—to your own personhood. But when was life ever fair to its softest creatures? When did life ever show the lamb any kindness? No, your kindness was hard fought, the world and its sharp edges scarred you but did not engrave their misery into your flesh. Hands run through your silky hair, another reminder of your hard fought self; lips pressing together as your eyes closed, blocking out the final streaks of sunlight that peaked through your window. A plan, a manipulation. You can pull this off–maybe. Probably. You’ve got enough edge of this, enough of a ghost in your soul to remember how to act. Keep your honesty, the person who everyone wants to keep clasped in their fist—play it. You learned the violin as a child, this is no different. You can bleed sympathy from him. Your handwriting is neat, an inverse to your mind. The neat red writing curls on your calendar, his name and a time printed on the date. He’s going to win, you know this for certain. The sun rises in the east, and he’s going to win the Trial of Hearts. But maybe if the wind is in the right direction—he’ll happen to be kind. You’ll curry his favour, subject yourself to the torments of being a doll again to compact the soil over your graves. You’ll bury them once and for all, even if it means being reduced in the eyes of men. Again.

[lambentine]

@undecadent : (unfortunately) you would do anything for the insatiable. your fate is sealed (it was sealed from the start)

[lambentine]

Hi i hope this isn’t too weird but i was wondering how you made the disco elysium graphics you posted?

hi! not weird babes:) used photoshop for it, and i just downloaded a bunch of screenshots of gameplay (mostly from here) and cut the ui elements from it, tweaked them slightly (rip harry's face) and then put my own crap in there. the fonts i used are dobra + libre baskerville, you can get both for free. colour picked what i needed for text from in game screenshots. i'd make a lot of boxes with either the shape tool or lasso (and then paint bucket) tool and then use clipping mask to put what i wanted (ie. nico's face) over it.

the best way i found to make it look accurate is to switch between ur edit + the real one to compare how it feels and looks, then u can get a vibe for whats missing or what u need to tweak. hope this helps!

[arcaris]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒.

class of 2025

@trialofheartsrpg

[lambentine]

A CORPSE BRIDE— a dress with a price tag that terrifies you, laced with pearls and hand embodied moths, all hues of a ghostly white and ethereal blue. hair twisted into a veil of dying flowers and mock brambles, gleaming in silver and moonlight. the corpse bride seeks her other half for everyone knows that death cannot stop true love.

[lambentine]

THERE WAS A GIRL WITH BANGS TO HER NOSE WHO WAS ALWAYS READING SHAKESPEARE’S ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. THERE WAS A SKINNY GIRL WHO HAD A VOICE LIKE GRACE SLICK. THERE WAS A GIRL WHO HAD A SCRAPBOOK FILLED WITH IMAGES SHE CUT OUT OF PORNOGRAPHIC MAGAZINES. THERE WAS A GIRL WHOSE FINGERTIPS WERE ALWAYS COVERED IN BLACK INK FROM DRAWING IN HER NOTEBOOK. SHE DREW TATTOOS ALL OVER MY ARM WITH A BALLPOINT PEN. (Portrait of the Artist as a Young Corpse, Heather O’Neill)

SELECTED OBJECTS STOLEN FROM THE DESK OF THE MIMIC.

[lambentine]

FLOWER AND PEARL— you are soft, always. especially now—adorned in velvet and studded with flowers. twisted and braided into your hair, the edges of your mask gilded with gold and ankles encircled with pearls. the venetian mask is clasped in one hand on its gold stem, and the slight jingle of your lucky bracelet on the other. AND A MASK, initially you mistake it for the night sky. gold carves out features in it, twisting features until you realise your error. no, this mask is a reflection of the ocean. murky and terrible, deep waters that encase you and hide your identity for the night. all neatly and perfectly caged in a box just for you.

[faantasm]

Archer’s fingers tangled with Clementine’s, little strawberries painted in perfect symmetry. “Please play these games with me. You, more than anyone, deserve to live the life you want to live. You deserve it. You don’t have to apologize to anyone. For wanting. For existing. Play the games, and try to win. I will too."

arc iii. connections: archer + @lambentine

dulcinea clementine de cervantes saavedra. i am asking you to endure it. i am aware that this is request is fundamentally selfish. i can offer no justification for it, no argument in its favor. it is simply the outcome i desire to see the most. so i am asking you

then -

You overwhelmed me, right from the start. Your tears, your laughter, the bandaids you insisted on pressing to places I said didn't hurt. I lost so much when you left - an ear to whisper secrets into, a hand to hold when I was scared, a home where no voices echoed in anger.

now -

You're still you. Despite everything, you managed to hang onto what was important. And I wish, more than anything, that I could say the same.

( sources : pinterest, numero, pinterest, pinterest, pinterest, pinterest, pinterest, tiny things by tiny habits, pinterest )

[honeyedking]

ARC III • CONNECTIONS

@lambentine

PINK. His first memorable encounter with her jeep wrangler. The taste of strawberry McFlurry, as they comforted each other under bright, neon arches. A sprig of pink flowers, redolent with a sweet scent. A second, warmer, Christmas celebration, a motherly presence when he desperately missed his. A warm, handmade knit that offered a quiet comfort.

THEN • Their first meeting always reminded him of a comedy movie - the screech of tires across the asphalt, the grill of her sunflower yellow jeep stopping mere inches from his face. (He would have sued, were it anyone else.) What followed was a friendship he never predicted, something quiet, soft, and gentle. And though they've only visited a handful of times - their standing holiday invitation to Clem's home in Wales was something all Sinclair siblings deeply cherished. NOW • This is the last place she should be, this den of wolves, with a heart as tender as hers. Their shared breakdown in the parking lot of a McDonalds only solidified the fact in his mind, and while he knows Clem has her many champions, he is - at heart - a protector, a martyr.

[lambentine]

Nicolai Arlay-Sinclair (a polaroid of of him being hit with a snowball, a sample of green wool for colour testing, the back of a birthday card)

Nico's busy around Christmas this year so naturally, my mom is horrified I'm not bringing him home! Cruel and unfair, I think she prefers him to me sometimes.

Then? He liked your sweaters, all soft and warm. A remnant of your home and the warmth of a mother. You had one woven for him too. Let him scrawl on your letters and postcards, hazardous and twisting. Let your mother become far too invested in him. Why not? What harm could it do. Now? You stand beside of him, two figures shaking in the breeze. In the dark nights after misery and ruin, you find him out. A friend, a brother. You are kind, painfully so. And even when everyone points knives to each other, you insist upon kindness to as many as you can. Him included, regardless of any blood stains.

Cassiel Leclair-Park (a love note with lipstick marks, a heart plaid table cloth, heart themed washi tape, a polaroid with the faces masked by white flowers)

I think he'd rather explode than admit he loves me but he says it in his sleep sometimes and I think that's enough.

Then? They call you something soft and unshaken. They think you are simply delicate and yet, you do not tremble beneath their weight, you simply hold it. A talent different from the rest. Now? You will pry your hand ending from the universe if it comes to that. You will be happy—and you will ensure his happiness too. You have been buried inside of him for too long now to leave, curled up in the atrium's of his heart and leaving love notes in the ventricles. You will be happy, you will survive aside of him—no matter the cost, no matter the justifications you may have to make.

Lucia Arcari (a polaroid of them dancing in the kitchen with love hearts drawn on it, an arcade ticket, a national park postcard, a pressed flower love note)

I keep thinking of her whenever I see a solar eclipse, which isn't a lot but it's weird it happened twice!!

Then? They are sharp where you are too soft to cut, a smirk where you are a smile, a force where you are a whisper. Together, you are intoxicating. And if you two are poison, then in combination, you are the glass others will drink from willingly. Now? You cling to her like an anchor in a storm, fingers clasping her hand as you attempt to navigate these muddy waters. Lucia continues to be your strength, remains steady aside of you—joined in your shared attempt to protect another.

[undecadent]

# I LOVE YOU / I WANT US BOTH TO EAT WELL.

even the starving know the difference between a lamb and the one who chooses not to eat it. you love her worse than famine loves feast. that tender, ravenous, unyielding thing. you had not yet known the full breadth of your heart until she showed you & you take her most undeservingly into your proximity with all the hallmarks of a hungry thing allowed it's first meal: trembling, grateful. @lambentine

[lambentine]

i’m truly hoping to be apart of this group …. Please hold me during these trying times. NCMDNDKDNFJEDJ (i also may or may not ask for a tutorial, they’ve inspired me in ways not even Woo Do-hwan could…..)

manifesting for you!!!! u got this baby. ur welcome to link whichever edit/s u want a tutorial and i’ll do one:)

[lambentine]

i’m not apart of the group but i just wanted you to know your edits are breathtaking <3

HELLO?? thank you SO MUCH!!!!!! i am only ever as good as the beautiful people in this group who inspire my edits<33333333

[lambentine]

AND CAIN SAYS, “WHEN YOU SPLIT ME AND MY BROTHER IN THE WOMB, YOU DID NOT DIVIDE US EVENLY. HE GOT KINDNESS, AND I GOT LONGING. HE GOT COMPLACENCE, AND I GOT AMBITION. I WANT TO KILL HIM SOMETIMES.”

the arcari siblings ♡ + @arcaris

[lambentine]

Diego de Cervantes and Alicia Saavedra originally met in San Jose, California while she was working as a pharmacist and he was in the process of publishing his first book. The couple eventually moved to Half Moon Bay to settle down and raise their only child Clementine de Cervantes. In the early 2010s, they relocated to Holyhead, Wales after Diego was given a publishing offer and teaching position. Clementine remained in Wales until moving to Switzerland to study. She remains in close contact with her beloved parents who continue to play an active and engaged role in her life.

[lambentine]

(..) WAS SORT OF HOPING THAT YOU’D STAY—

clementine + @cogitxre