& on the eighth day.

𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲, affiliated with aevum isles.

[sanctivus]

#SANCTIVUS; affiliated sunday of honkai: star rail.

❝ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐯𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲 — 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭… 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐈 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐞. ❞

— ⟢ the fiercely unyielding previous head of the esteemed oak family descended from godhood to that of a mere mortal now traversing the cosmos to discover the purest version of himself. — ⟢ … that is, until a most untimely departure from the astral express instead thrust him onto the isles. — ⟢ despite his unexpected destination, all intent to continue his journey of self-discovery, rediscover his fallen faith and achieve the means to build his ideal paradise without the initial influence of the order to guide his hand still stands. — ⟢ harmony jesus. — ⟢ an eloquent and soft-spoken individual revered for his angelic appearance. carries an unchallenged appreciation for only the most exquisite musical movements-something that will never change. — ⟢ however, despite his usually composed demeanor & beneath his pristinely, perfectly kept appearance, he is far from benevolent as sinners remain unequal to saints. for when one chooses to err, they should expect enactment of the divine.

app | stats | threads | decree | memes.

[sviteer]

Passage of time

[mournfulroses]

Anaïs Nin, from diary entry featured in A Journal of Love; The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin

[b1adie]

— ⟢ sunday & robin —✧— ode to vox harmonique ⟣ —

[archived123456789]

@sanctivus decided to gamble

In the lavish eaves of the temple, across the proverbially endless isles of pews amongst that looming judgement and condemnation above all those who wish for penance and salvation. Soft sounds of melodious rhyme hauntingly echo down the corridors which seems to cut the loneliness burrowing into his bones. Ratio, with hands stuffed into his slack pants rolls a worn down piece of chalk in his hand before dragging his nail along the soft surface.

Was this choice in effort to ease his own mind or to gain some glint of enlightenment? Who knew, but against his guts instincts he'll sit in a pew. A sign heavy on his lips as he glanced about the statues. 'Perfection' he thinks muttering softly to himself. "Least you all don't have to deal with the judgment of others-" A snort rumbles to himself as he leans his head back staring at the ceiling while the sounds coax him to relax.

[sanctivus]

having since withdrawn to the sanctity of his own private quarters tucked peacefully within temple confines, sunday chooses to indulge with what precious little remains of an otherwise restful afternoon. that melody pervades every sacred corner as if carried upon golden strings unseen, blanketing the pews and people who still remain gathered in solemn whispers and faithful prayer. in the soundless brush of sacred garb where he settles in the row furthest from; all is well.

just as he begins recording today's happenings within a small, leatherbound journal, his writings seem to cease just as soon as they begin. a faint twitch of wings picks up on the touch of dissonance, a crestfallen heart seemingly ruminating from his seat within the pew before him. a faint smile touches the halovian's lips, painted in the reflective colorful casting of the stained glass' light. somewhere beyond the setting sun in waning glow, a bird spreads its wings to take flight while another is doomed to fall.

.. but if you are born weak, which god should you turn to for solace? how peculiar indeed. this voice does not restrain, but attempts to persuade. it seems he's conjured a headache for all of his efforts. perhaps an afternoon nap would soon suffice. however, he makes no move to retreat lest he abandon another in need.

"on the contrary... those who watch over us suffer the harshest judgments of all. they are looked upon unlike any other and are doomed to be cast out when they can no longer offer solace. have you been turned away by your god?"

[sunnysyou]

reposting old art from my twitter :))

[sanctivus]

@cloudspierced / untold stories!

it comes as a hymn unsung, frail as hope like the fleeting feathers of the bird who cannot fly. in sadness, he thinks, when one becomes the martyr for another’s punishment. like a beacon caught between crime and people, sunday pauses in his venture towards the theater to instead turn his attention towards the pool of bystanders where he spies the “guilty” in question. ah.. another misunderstanding that begs unfortunate end. the buzz of frantic fans almost roars proudly over the ringing in his ears. 

he can’t bear it a moment longer. 

finally, they fall silent and begin to part like wayward pebbles cast unto a babbling stream. whispers rise as he stands before the man, unassuming and rather plain in appearance were it not for his gaze, sharply honed perhaps like a weapon lying in wait. … but that is no reason to judge unfairly. a smile rises as the people begin to quietly disperse and their argument falls. 

“my apologies. the venue is rather crowded on days like these, it is easy to fall to the wayside; especially when taking the blame for another. i saw what you did. from where i stand your actions were quite noble. i shall put in good word. thank you.” 

[sanctivus]

event info: untold stories.

capping this at 2!

sunday of the prestigious oak family lives an arguably accomplished life spending most of his days lending his aid and ear to others troubles. while he has always been favored among the officials of padedeu temple, he prefers a much more withdrawn and exclusively private life outside of his dedication to the isles and their people.

ironic, considering he is also a rising star within the world of music; both a composer and proud producer of vinyls. he also offers his services to the temple choir.

both well-known in image and name, when he isn't performing for the masses, he prefers quieter venues, a hot cup of tea in perfect accompaniment, and perhaps even the right company.

however, despite his many happy returns, he cannot help but feel something is terribly wrong.

his curse: the inability to truly feel accomplished.

in a world where he longs to close the seemingly endless divide between them, the halovian siblings lack any closeness-familial and otherwise.

despite rising in his shining success, the growing disparity of their familial divide has ultimately leaft sunday with an ever-looming pang in his heart that longs for harmony, but a voice within the deepest recesses of his divided mind that demands order.

all too often does he place the sufferings of others before his own; when does it become a sin to selflessly sacrifice and never save yourself?

[love]

Clouds by straychi1d

[ahotknife]

YOU don’t have to be perfect to be loved. but I do

[mournfulroses]

Joanna Glenn, from her novel titled "All My Mothers," originally published in 2021

[kodyx-art]

putting the harm in harmony 🪽

[weltenwellen]

Henry Miller in a letter to Anaïs Nin, A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin Henry Miller, 1932-1953

[ngkhyn]

[yinyuue]

Lumine’s   heart   fluttered   in   the   unexpected   warmth   of   his   embrace,   the   suddenness   of   the   fall   leaving   her   momentarily   dazzled,   her   golden   eyes   wide   with   surprise.   But   as   the   soft   rustle   of   snowflakes   filled   the   air,   her   composure   returned,   and   she   found   herself   meeting   his   gaze   with   a   shy   smile.   "It   seems   the   snow,   in   all   its   beauty,   has   a   way   of   surprising   even   the   most   cautious   of   souls,"   she   mused,   her   voice   light   and   melodic,   though   tinged   with   an   edge   of   wonder.   "But   perhaps   it   is   not   the   snow   itself   that   is   dangerous,   but   the   way   it   draws   us   in,   tempting   us   to   wander   where   we   would   not   otherwise   go."   She   shifted   slightly,   feeling   the   warmth   of   the   coat   against   her   skin,   a   stark   contrast   to   the   biting   cold   of   the   world   around   them.   Her   gaze   lingered   on   him,   the   flicker   of   his   words   resonating   with   a   truth   she   had   long   known   but   rarely   voiced.   "You   speak   of   trials   and   punishment,   yet   sometimes,   it   is   in   those   very   trials   that   one   finds   their   true   strength."   Her   smile   deepened,   an   unspoken   understanding   dancing   behind   her   eyes.

Taking   a   breath,   she   pulled   herself   upright,   the   movement   as   graceful   as   the   flutter   of   a   falling   snowflake.   "I   suppose   there   is   a   certain   poetry   in   it   all,"   she   continued,   her   tone   now   thoughtful   and   serene.   "Nature’s   beauty   can   be   a   cruel   muse—its   elegance   a   reminder   that   we   are   but   fleeting   moments,   ever   at   its   mercy.   But   in   that   vulnerability,   there   is   also   freedom,   a   kind   of   release   from   the   shackles   we   build   for   ourselves.   So   yes,   I   suppose   I   have   found   my   stride,   in   spite   of   the   fall—perhaps   because   of   it."   Her   gaze   softened   as   she   met   his   eyes   again,   the   moment   stretching   between   them   like   the   snow-covered   horizon.   “How   about   you?   Surly   the   biting   cold   isn't   good   for   you   as   well."   A   pause   dances   on   her   lips   before   his   hand   is   stolen   away.   “Come—   I've   found   a   lovely   little   place   we   can   warm   up.   They   have   the   best   sweets   on   the   whole   isle.”

[sanctivus]

(✦) she brims with the mirth of guiding lights and moves with the grace of birds in flight. as if entranced by unseen choreography between them, the halovian tucks his right hand behind his back while the left continues to offer guidance and steady the petite form as soft snowfall blankets beneath them and breaths puff against the chill of wintery air. once the other finds her balance he pulls away carefully, should any sudden movement see her tumbling a second time. finally does he cast gilded gaze over features still happily beaming despite nearly falling. sunday can't help the rise of a smile in turn before further looking out into their pristine wonderland.

"at the very least you know to stand back up despite the inevitability of someday again facing another fall. determined, and yet perhaps not too eager. as a boy i pushed my stride a little too far and tried to fly on premature wings only to come crashing back down."

therein lies a truth to her words. however largely familiar with the reality of sensation that comes with the dreamscape and its ability to mimic feeling, learning to adjust to that same sense of reality itself upon his first steps out onto new worlds has been a vastly different experience unparalleled. to linger would threaten the natural balance of serenity and equilibrium within wellbeing. her suggestion, he considers, comes at a time just as good as any. the offer of sweets perhaps most tempting of all.

“ah, sweets you say? i admit i've not yet been able to peruse to my liking. i would be honored to accompany you, miss...?”

[mournfulroses]

Jane Hirshfield, from Given Sugar, Given Salt: Poems; "Like an Ant Carrying her Bits of Leaf or Sand,"

[archived123456789]

The   doctor   considered   Sunday’s   offer   for   a   moment,   his   fingers   lightly   tracing   the   rim   of   his   coffee   cup,   as   if   weighing   the   invitation   against   the   quiet   hum   of   the   cafe.   The   past,   as   they   both   agreed,   seemed   to   blur   like   a   fading   page—too   distant   to   grasp   fully,   yet   still   lingering   in   fragments   of   sensation.   "Memory,"   he   mused   quietly,   more   to   himself   than   to   Sunday,   "is   often   as   elusive   as   time   itself,   slipping   through   our   fingers   the   moment   we   seek   to   define   it.   Perhaps   the   journey   to   Aevum   is   less   important   than   what   we   do   with   the   present."   His   gaze   then   shifted   to   the   chess   set   which   would   be   placed   before   them,   and   with   a   slight   nod,   he   decided   on   a   challenge.

He   set   it   down   with   deliberate   care   on   the   table   between   them,   arranging   the   pieces   with   methodical   attention   to   detail.   "A   game,   then,"   he   said,   his   voice   steady,   the   glint   of   a   strategist   in   his   eyes.   "Chess,   I   find,   often   offers   a   clearer   window   into   the   workings   of   the   mind.   There   is   order   in   it—rules   that   govern,   yet   allow   for   creativity   within   boundaries."   He   glanced   up,   offering   a   calm,   calculated   offer.   "I   trust   you’re   ready   to   test   your   mettle   against   someone   with   a   penchant   for   foresight.   From   what   I   have   purveyed   here   this   place   tries   to   mimic   ones   home.   Who   knows   you   might   find   your   sister   too."

[sanctivus]

(✦) the halovian's gaze mindfully wanders if only to take in the details of his companion's face. learned was the doctor indeed, perhaps in some years he may find blemish where perfection used to be. after all, was he not the same man who also sought recognition from a higher power from the better part of his lifelong career? to strive upon such a path was arduous as it was admirable-however, the weak can only rely upon the stronger until taught there is no one to answer their call but themselves. a lesson, for the once proud and immovable head of the ever steemed oak family who stood at the very pinnacle of penacony's glittering prime that was indeed hard learned.

sunday shifts faintly within his own seat, long legs folded properly beneath the table and gloved fingers drumming a soundless tune against forearm as arms remained folded. finally, with the passing of words he remembers his own drink, long since forgotten in the wake of passing rumination. a faint frown befalls heavenly features only for lips to pull upward into a tight purse when that game board is placed between them. ah, chess... a true game of mind bolstered into strategic might. yes, perhaps he would find her. the universe always has the strangest ways of seeing them reunite, even if their paths inevitably deviate after every reunion.

so too does one bird continue to spread its wings and fly; but where does a bird go beyond unknown skies? arms fall and a gloved hand easily plucks one of the ivory pieces of matching color, moving it forward.

"then let us move beyond the shackles that will only continue to bind us both to the past. to a resolute stride, and... the newfound companionship worthy of admiration."