#contemplaton

[irieotter]

#ItIsWhatItIsAndItAintGoingToBeTheWayItUsedToBe #Contemplaton #Brooding #OverIt #OneDayAtATime #StayWoke #StayClassySanDiego✌🌴 (at Point Loma, San Diego)

[grandynetheroshan-blog]

A Little Birdy Told Me...

“You are still predictable, elf. You need to straighten your stomach, bend the knees, and keep your stance to the side. You are a small target, this will make you an even smaller target. Again!” Without a seconds delay, the Valkyra swooped her pole-arm low, its razor sharp blade sparking on impact against the stone floor of the training arena. Gran’dyne pulled the plate covered boot upwards and avoided the hastened assault upon her leg. The Vrykul’s brutality couldn’t have been anymore rudimentary, as their people were when it comes to a winning fight. 

“Hey! I wasn’t ready!” the priestess called out, brows furrowed in a frustrated display of aggravation. The Valkyra said nothing, gave no response whatsoever. Instead she began to stride, her body stiff and ready for battle as her legs crossed carefully with balance in a showdown like manner. Gran’dyne brushed away the stray flaxen waves of silken hair that fell in front of her face during her evasion - and so the battle continued..

 It’s effortless to say that her demeanor had changed well in the few months that she had been gone to undergo training as a Valkyr Aspirant. A deal that had been so ill-prepared, and utterly harsh on the pampered elf’s physical body and way of life. A flawed gem being cut into prismatic perfection. Training had gone on for days at a time, and at times the entire span of the sun and moon’s cycle. She had been cut, beaten, and humiliated beyond anything she had ever experienced before - broken. Often times she cried the pain through wistful tears while soaking her aching bones in a warm drawn bath, and even more often she would talk to herself about the things she imagined she would have spoken about with her friends, especially Aranya. Though it had been weeks since she had received the last letter from those she cared for, and through the taunting sentiments that she would tell herself: They had forgotten her. 

The radiant light of the morning sun had peered elegantly through the wood-panned windows of the Valajar Halenvar’s cottage. Each corner of the room embraced the golden light and all it’s luminosity to the fullest. This very moment was the literal highlight of the priestess’s days, the one thing that inspired her to keep going, and to fulfill her purpose as an Aspirant and a friend. The inaudible murmurs of the Vrykul town nearby had awoken Gran’dyne as they did every morning, the young giant children that nearly progressed her own height had come out to play, and the parents to their daily chores. Like inevitable clockwork, she dressed, and ate, and finished her cup’o’tea, then proceeded towards the large oak door of the cottage to where the small white cat, Ala, would see her off. Her mood had been shaken the moment she closed the door for reasons she did not know. Beyond the sweet smell that the mountainous winds carried from the nearby wood, an eerie chill blew with it. It was that same gut feeling she had always gotten when something seemed wrong; possible psych that nudged at her subconscious that foreshadowed events to come. Golden waves bounced to and fro as she scouted within  eyesight the nearby field, and woods. All seemed clear, though she still proceeded carefully. 

Her Valkyra armor had taken her awhile to become use to. Though it primarily composed of leathers, the protective steel plates that guarded her vital points weighed the suit down drastically. Plated gloves and breast plate were narrowly covered by the metal, though the boots that hugged her thighs were admirably coated. Reason being, suggested her original Valkyr mentor, was that she had easily splintered ankles, due to her high-heeled lifestyle. Though it had seemed ridiculous, she obliged without any complaints. Now she wore the armor effortlessly, as she would have the fashionable cloths that were left packed away in her belongings within the cottage. 

As every morning of each day, the walk to the training grounds started off early, for being late wasn’t in her nature. And as for each day, she sunk the pearly white canines into the ripened red fruit brought with her from the cottage. Though before the first bite of the morning was taken, harsh gallops haunted the dirt and stone path from behind her. The fruit was released from her grasp and let to drop from her lips and onto the floor as she quickly pivoted around with her hand on the decorated hilt of the Sindorei forged, Vrykul-steel blade. Her nerves and assessment of the riders pace sparked this reaction, and her suspicions had proven to be veraciously accurate. The rider was not Vyrkul, or Alliance, but a black hooded Forsaken agent of the Horde. She was no hero, or ally - but one of the dark-skinned fallen elves that made up the Banshee Queen’s ranks. It wasn’t often that they left her side, or the Undercity without her word being given, and it left Gran to wonder why she had been following her. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” Gran’dyne hissed sharply. 

“My, my.. Aren’t you mighty narcissistic.. assuming that every person that meets your gaze is interested in you.” she retorted mockingly.

Gran’dyne held her gaze prudent to the dead-elf’s movements. Her insults may have stung the priestess once-upon-a-time, but not now. The pale lips didn’t mutter a word, instead she shifted her hips and posture in a way that suggested preparation for battle. The scout mistress took notice to her demeanor and continued on.

“Oh behave yourself little flower.. It was merely a joke. Have you lost your sense of humor, mucking around in the dirt with these brute of a cow race that these giant men call women? Filthy beasts.. Ah yes! A little birdy told me of your frolicking with the Valkyr Queen.. Which thus, brings us to business.. I imagine Queen Sylvanas would be most interested in you. Yes, as a matter of fact.. I believe that she would find you to be a perfect infiltrator to the Valkyr Queen’s ranks, and ultimately give my Queen what she desires. I may even get a promotion, believe it or not..” she tested Gran’dyne’s stature, and managed to break through the newly hardened shell. Golden brows lost their furrow as they lowered into a shocked display. Her secrecy in Stormheim had been broken, she lost her only safe net that protected her from the affairs of the Horde and Titans alike. An internal battled now tugged at Gran’dyne’s consciousness that had been tranquil for so long. Her thoughts had turned to pointless words that carried no meaning, and the daily routines had become the remedial state that she had walked. 

Prisoner.. Owned.. Caged.

These were the components that held the priestesses fate. No matter her decision to assist the Queen, or to join the Valkyr ranks. She would always be a prisoner to someone else’s will. The eggshell of a barrier that contained Gran’dyne’s emotions had begun to crack deep within the core of her own inner resolve. No more. 

“I will not be your token to a better life, and I will not be going with you. I reject your escort to the Queen’s council.” Her words were edgeless and fluid, as calm as they had been months ago before they had been sharpened into bladed temperament. 

“I hate to hear that.. I truly do. Because now I will have to take you by force..”

And like that, the plated fingers squeezed tightly around the hilt, and pulled the Sindorei forged blade from the sheath in which it was inertly rested. 

The cloaked huntress rolled from the back of the animated horse in a shade-like apparition, two throwing daggers whirled through the smokey shadows, swirling the blackened smog as they exited. Gran’dyne swung her sword to parry the first dagger, the second so fortunately for the blackened agent, grazed the flesh of the priestess’s upper thigh by her hip, cutting a tear in the leather skirt. She flinched as the blade made contact; the wound stung, and scarlet had begun to stream in a fine line down her outer leg. 

“Have you changed your mind?” the spectral form of the dark-skinned elf manifested back into plain sight, and begun a hip swaying stride towards her. This was a moment where Gran’dyne had taken her mentor’s guidance in battle, to play to the weakness of the enemy, by playing to your strengths. Make them underestimate you. 

A crystalline stream formed the bottom lids of Gran’dyne’s eyes as one tear managed to break the thin eyelash barrier and slowly trickled down her cheekbone. “Please.. Let me go.. I don’t want to be used by anyone anymore..” she murmured with a hint of genuine fear that cracked in her vocals as they exited her lips. She had played the victim well in this sense, she had applied the rouse as intended. 

“You poor little thing.. What could have made the Valkyr Queen ever taken you in as an Aspirant–” as the last step of the black leather foot inched within range, the light-held grip upon the blade tightened, and with all of her might she swung the blade upwards. Dark ichor splattered against the dark brown leathers and white plate of Gran’s armor, and along the porcelain apples of her cheeks. She had completely severed the forearm of the agent’s left arm, rendering her main hand useless. The Banshee’s huntress cried out in anger and frustrated pain. Though in her mind she had been far from finished with the priestess. Her intentions had promptly changed from capture, to kill. The dark-skinned elf pulled a hidden dagger from behind her back, though before she pulled the blade to her front, the heavily plated high heeled boot came around in a quick spin, and thrust outward with a hastened battle cry, driving the blade into the agent’s chest. The cool dark hues of the woman’s lips painted black with her lifeblood as she choked on the thick ichor. Gran’dyne slumped to the ground, her heavy knees and boots fluffed the dirt around her into a small cloud that dissipated just after. Her chest hurt from the heavy breaths and the attempts her heart made at jumping from her rib cage. She reached for her sword, having dropped it mere inches away from whence she fell; her plated hand shook uncontrollably, and she retreated it against her chest, where she held it firmly within the gloved palm of her other. 

Hours had passed, and the sun had exceeded passed it’s highest point, and into the afternoon. Gran’dyne knew she couldn’t go back. What possibly for? She didn’t know if the agent had sent word or allowed another to know of her plans, and if so when she did not return, Gran’dyne might as well have become an enemy to the Banshee Queen herself. She slid the plated heeled-boots across the rocks and dirt, tumbling stones beneath her shins as she hoisted herself up with the help of her sword. She couldn’t stay any longer, for nothing good would become of her if she remained at the scene - no matter who found her. She slowly lowered her gaze to her body armor, to the black blood that painted her white steel black. In a abrupt manner she whimpered, tugging at the hinges of the plate, and tore the metal from her chest and arms, and then hurried to do the same to her boots, before running barefoot against the uncomfortable terrain, towards the cottage. 

The large wooden door swung open, crashing into the wooden post behind it. Ala had jumped up from his nap and hissed in her direction, showing his very angry emotions through clawing upon Halenvar’s furniture. Halenvar often spent time away from his home, leaving Gran’dyne alone long enough to know where he hid his good ale, quills, and inks. She chugged back the harsh beverage, and began to write quickly on the parchment.

                               My Dearest Aranya,

                            Something has happened. I can’t stay here anymore. I will contact you as soon as I can. I love you.

She left out the pleasantries.

                                     ~Dyna

~({ Mentions, Big and Small: @aranyaphoenix @halenvar @ryosteelsworn})~

(This was quickly written, for I had unexpected things I needed to get done! Hope it wasn’t lacking in important detail.)

[travelless]

Reflective

[johnettenapolitano]

15 July 2018: The Hermit

15 July 2018: The Hermit

Detach and reflect.

    Sorry to bother you, have a lovely Sunday evening.

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[love-eves-world]

"To work according to the laws of wisdom and with the methods of love, this is the program," said Master Peter Deunov. The wisdom shows us the ideal to which we must strive, and this program will occupy us for eternity. To realize it, we have to apply the methods of love, by experiencing every minute consciously with much attention. The laws provide the fixed points are, according to which we should align ourselves and the methods are our working tools. The methods of love allow us to realize the grand goals of wisdom. Those who think they can attain wisdom, while he neglected the love is mistaken. He will disintegrate dry and dust. The methods of love are numerous. They allow us to enter into dialogue with the whole of nature, by breathing, eating, viewing the sunrise. Thanks to her we enter into dialogue with the people, by putting kindness, generosity and patience of the day and we enter into dialogue with the divine world through meditation, prayer and contemplation. 

»Nach den Gesetzen der Weisheit und mit den Methoden der Liebe zu arbeiten, das ist das Programm«, sagte Meister Peter Deunov. Die Weisheit zeigt uns das Ideal, dem wir zustreben müssen, und dieses Programm wird uns für die Ewigkeit beschäftigen. Um es zu realisieren, müssen wir die Methoden der Liebe anwenden, indem wir jede Minute bewusst mit viel Aufmerksamkeit erleben. Die Gesetze stellen die Fixpunkte dar, nach denen wir uns ausrichten sollen und die Methoden sind unsere Arbeitsinstrumente. Die Methoden der Liebe erlauben uns, die grandiosen Ziele der Weisheit zu realisieren. Wer glaubt, zur Weisheit gelangen zu können, während er die Liebe vernachlässigt, der täuscht sich. Er wird austrocknen und zu Staub zerfallen.

Die Methoden der Liebe sind zahlreich. Sie erlauben es uns, mit der ganzen Natur in Austausch zu treten, durch die Atmung, die Ernährung, die Betrachtung des Sonnenaufgangs. Dank ihrer treten wir auch in Austausch mit den Menschen, indem wir Güte, Großzügigkeit und Geduld an den Tag legen und wir treten in Austausch mit der göttlichen Welt durch die Meditation, das Gebet und die Kontemplation.

[paultys]

Google Earth

Before moving to St Helena it had become a regular pastime of mine to use Google Earth, find the Island and zoom out, out and out and out until eventually another land mass came into view. I used to sit and wonder at what it would be to live on this spec in the ocean. I found great pleasure in this wonderment, enthusiastically showing friends and family that same remoteness. A few days ago , for…

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