#e: 01

[archieskennedy]

[storyseekers]

congratulations once again to our founding members of the story seekers society! to get to know each other better, we highly encourage you to participate in our very first event. for this purpose, we’ve picked the theme of your favorite book. if you’d like a bit of a twist, you can also do a favorite childhood book! either way, we’re excited to see your creations and to get to know you all a little better. 

to join: 

reblog this post

create anything (edits, gifs, anything) highlighting your favorite book by may 31st 

caption your work with 

@storyseekers event 01 : get to know the story seekers   —  [ member name ]        — [quote / desc]

[serenastarks-blog]

Don’t stray too far.

Her brother’s words, icy and meant as a grave warning, left an uneasy feeling atop her skin as they settled. His grip on her arm was tight, fingers digging roughly into her flesh. But with gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, she yanked her arm away, fighting against his grasp as she’d done all her life. Faintly, she heard him sigh, exasperated by her defiance, but that only brought a sardonic smile to her painted lips as she strode in the opposite direction. 

Even in death—whether it be hers or not—she couldn’t seem to escape Rodrik, nor her father. And though his back was turned, yes, in deep conversation with the Grand Maester, Serena knew his eyes were never far from his her movement, always watching, waiting to swoop in and contain his storm of a daughter. But now was her chance to disappear, to slink away in silence and greet freedom with open arms. 

Her prayers, while selfish and wholly inappropriate, are answered in the form of a pillar to her right. Sucking in a sharp breath, she weaved within the crowd, offering up soft apologies to anyone she bumped too roughly. And as soon as she heard that familiar gruff voice cry out a plea, that of Rodrik’s calling her name in desperate fashion, she darted to the safe haven. Her back bounced against the stone of the pillar and she tugged her arms in tightly against her chest so as to hide herself. 

“I beg you,” she whispered, leaning forward and clasping a hand atop the forearm of a passerby, a soft smile now constructed along her delicate features, raven curls cascading over her shoulders, “tell me, is he still looking?” I hope not, she thought as the look on her face turned sour.

[serenastarks-blog]

A BREATH OF FRESH AIR

@torrhen-of-house-stark​ // deserted balcony

The warm air brushed along her face, the smell of the sea carrying all the way up to the Sept, a welcome distraction from the putrid stench of death that had clouded her nostrils all morning. With hands gripping the railing, she leaned forward, chest pressing against the stone as she peered down at the city below, but not a sound was to be heard, not a person was to be seen for each and every soul had been behind her, gathered within the main hall to pay tribute to a man she’d barely known. 

It was strange, the feeling of grief when there was no reasoning behind it. She knew she was to feel sad, to feel the loss of a great man as the King had said time and time again, but she couldn’t bring herself to truly feel it. Her mind was elsewhere, anywhere but in the present, wishing and hoping for something far more exciting than the mingling of nobles, the hollow pleasantries of small talk and the screeching sound of vultures as they circle the carnage, not of Lord Arryn, no, but of the bereavement of a nation, the vulnerability of a reign.

“I can feel you watching me,” a smile spread across her lips, but she didn’t turn, eyes still trained on the barren streets of Flea Bottom. She’d know his presence anywhere for her body always comes alive whenever he’s near, each nerve ending standing on edge, ready to salute to their commander—their king. “Tired of fending off the ladies yet?” she turned slowly, tossing her onyx curls over her shoulder and relaxing back onto the balcony’s edge, elbows perched atop the stone. 

[iamnojedii]

@forcekept

Ahsoka’s never been to a gala before, but being surrounded by politicians is nothing particularly new. It doesn’t seem so long ago she’d been on this planet, within the halls of the Senate rotunda, watching as delegates debated among the watchful eye of a thousand other planets’ representatives. Those days were over now and it had been years since Coruscant had been the undisputed of the capital galaxy, but one thing - politicians and their work - never changed.

          ( this, she could deal with )

She senses the other's presence before she sees him-- can see in her mind the faint outline of his form; shorter than her, a bit, but most humans were; his demeanor familiar-- calm, good-natured. Grounded, is maybe the best word to describe Chirrut Îmwe.

          ( and it's been a while since she could say she felt anything close to grounded in these uncertain times; it’s a relief )

     “I’m glad you could make it, Chirrut.”

[nikonthehunt-blog]

Subject: Mon Régal

My dearest Blacklight—

The days have grown dark and the oceans have been restless since I spoke with you last. I hope you are well. 

Recently I have been faced with my own bitter humanity as the seasons have drifted past, bringing dreaded allergies in their wake. The only thing that brings me up to spirits is carving and reshaping lately. Wood is so hard to come by these days.

Speaking of, I hope you have received my present. It was a beautiful display despite the effort being … challenging. Getting a vessel to animate without the source was surely a test of strength. Perhaps the tourists will think twice about venturing into this quaint of a town. I hope you opened it in the privacy of your own home.

People do not appreciate the beauty that is of the natural form. They simply take it as an insult when being dead is the only outcome they see. Heathens, they are.

Speaking to you, my friend, has given me the utmost sense of inspiration. Despite our differences, I feel the similarity is too much to be taken lightly. I apologize if I am speaking empty words to you.

It is a beautiful feeling to not be alone in this world anymore. I never realized I was lonely until you stepped in my life, my friend.

Straying away from the influx of needy emotions, I hope there aren’t too many stray birds blocking your path. If so, I wouldn’t mind bringing some bird feed.

I will speak to you later this week. I have a few errands to attend to.

With avid devotion,

—Fresian

[cperthshire]

march 02, 2023 ||* hogwarts; caleb &

S l o w l y; slowly. Bitterness consumes, and the purer the heart, the dirtier the deed. Bitterness poises and lurks, hiding in the shadows of the soul that refuse to be acknowledged. It waits to plant seeds, cultivating vines that yearn to choke out hope as it blooms. Its battle tactic is silence - crouching and waiting to strike. The heart fights a constant battle to guard itself, refusing to let bitterness creep in s l o w l y, yet pushing every ounce of gentleness into the world at the same time. No such soul knows of this warfare better than Caleb Perthshire. For someone who reflects and radiates so much warmth into the universe, it’s nearly appalling that the same being can be plagued by such melancholia. If that point is raised, it’s met with a knowing grin and the smallest bob of a blond head. If pressed, the only answer received is that “there is beauty in emotions, and none in bitterness.” When melancholy strikes, Caleb lets himself dwell for a bit before pulling himself out of it. Some feelings demand to be felt, and he much prefers reveling in them to bottling them up — the longer it’s delayed, the more volatile the explosion will be. He’s displaying such behavior, and in need of a distraction, we find him in an empty classroom with a transfigured piano because of it. 

—

Caleb noted that the piano keys were cold to the touch as he danced her fingers across them. He wasn’t quite sure why he had expected anything but the chill and gave a small shrug in response. He slowly immersed himself and felt a transition to a lonely waltz flowing through his fingertips — complex and melancholy.  He was taught many useless talents growing up, but took to the piano like a duckling to water. It was another thing that held his heart and attention, something that he could pour his whole being into. He had done just that until he heard distant footfalls but kept plunking out precious melodies. Caleb was nudged back towards reality when the footsteps entered the room and eventually lifted his head to take a quick glimpse of the visitor. With pursed lips, he slid down on the piano bench to make room should the guest choose to sit, glancing back at them once more with a quirked brow.

[alpiniamoon]

october 02, 2023; [ hogwarts. ]

"Do you ever hear something so ridiculously absurd, and you're nearly positive that your eyes would roll so hard and right out of their sockets if physically possible?"