#khrysophos

[dvarapala]

❛ I didn’t steal it if that’s what you’re wondering. ❛ from anthony!

atla; book 1 - water // @khrysophos (anthony)

“i’m wondering how many people jump from missing stuff to you stealing it immediately. do they do that a lot? if so, i’m sorry. i don’t think you stole it, y’know? and i don’t think luna does, either. you’re padma didi’s best friend, anthony, you’re the last person i’d suspect.” 

the patil twins keep good company. and he’s definitely good company; he always listens to her rambles, after all!

“can you please help me look for it, though? walking barefoot would fit her aesthetic, to be sure, but it’s slowly getting colder and she’s gonna need her shoes eventually.”

[rhaelluna]

❛ ‘CAUSE YOU ARE made of perfect stars ! ❜

@khrysophos​​ / a call uwu / song ! 

[mostsavage]

@khrysophos​ said: ‘ keep your voice down. ’ from bellabinch

witch     &     werewolf ,     each     as     dark     as     the     other .     is     there     a     madness     in     her ,     too ,     a     beast     ripping ,     tugging     at     its     chains     &     howling     to     be     set     free ?     they     say     she     is     dangerous ,     but     he     smiles ,     the     cold     smile     of     a     predator ,     sharp     teeth     &     merciless     eyes .     you     know     nothing     of     danger ,     girl !    ‘ no ,     i     don’t     think     i     will . ’

meme     /     accepting

[gellcrt]

@khrysophos​​ // Aberforth said: “  god is the same everywhere. ”  ( meme, accepting. )

Gellert laughs, and there’s sunshine in his teeth ( he bites deep into it, and leaves everything bleeding ). because the words, in Aberforth’s mouth, are so… bizarre. god. god? and at which pagan altar would Abe worship, he who only basked in mediocrity and sought to drag everyone deep into the same pit?

a hum, as he runs his hand over the rim of his teacup. pauses, adds lemon, takes a sip and casts his gaze to the window, all cheery blues and yellows. he’s bored, and perhaps because he’s bored the words remind him, oddly, of the words his compatriot published, a decade or so ago, in The Gay Science. the copy was fresh and new in his child’s hands. the words ( of a madman ) still resound in his skull, as if tattooed there. Gellert hadn’t been an impressionable child ( had he? ), and yet ——— 

his grin widens, and it’s full of teeth.

        “ ...so how shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? ”

Abe won’t get it. Gellert doesn’t care. vaguely, he wonders if the texts were translated to English yet; vaguely, he doubts it would matter if Aberforth had read them thrice over. could anything stick inside of that thick skull? was there space enough?

        “ for once, Abe, you might just be right. ”

god is dead. ( black ink on an offwhite page. ) god remains dead. and we have killed him.

[mostsavage]

@khrysophos​ said: ‘ don’t touch me! ’ uhm uh narcissa??? rip

it     does     not     escape     him     that     he     is     an     intruder     in     this     place ,     an     unwelcome     guest .        the     smiles     offered     to     him     are     tight ,     not     meeting     the     eyes .        &     their     eyes     don’t     meet     his ,     as     though     to     look     into     them     for     too     long     might     spread     the     disease .        i     do     not     belong     here .      

no     ceiling ,     no     matter     how     high ,     compares     to     the     open     sky .        no     chandelier     can     outshine     the     moon .        the     walls     encircle     them     all     like     a     cage ,     as     though     they     are     animals     waiting     for     the     slaughter     –     waiting ,     all     of     them ,     for     their     master .        i     do     not     belong     here .      

the     lady     of     the     manor     greets     him     with     an     icy     sort     of     politeness ,     the     kind     he     supposes     she     reserves     for     all     her     unwelcome     guests     –     but     it     has     been     so     long     that     he     has     been     the     recipient     of     any     sort     of     politeness ,     icy     or     warm     or     otherwise ,     that     he     doesn’t     quite     know     what     to     do     with     himself .        some     old     memory     sparks ,     the     vague     notion     of     some     social     nicety     from     long     ago ,     when     setting     foot     inside     a     house     like     this     felt     like     the     most     natural     thing     in     the     world .        he     leans     in     to     kiss     her     cheek ,     feels     his     whiskers     brush     her     face .        ( don’t     touch     me ! )        of     course     not .       one     step     back ,     &     all     his     old     manners     are     forgotten     once     more .        he     is     not     a     guest ,     unwelcome     or     otherwise .        he     is     a     plague .        he     will     never     be     anything     else     again .        i     do     not     belong     here .  

meme     /     accepting

[stormbcrn]

“ forgetting pain is convenient , remembering it : agonizing ” – rhaegar, @khrysophos​​ ♥

                        RHAEGAR HAD LIVED NEARLY A LIFETIME before her birth. He had known their father, their mother. More importantly, he had felt what it was to lose them both. He faced what she could only imagine was an insurmountable loss and grief, one she would never know. And perhaps she was better for not knowing them –––– For not knowing who they were, the ones that gave her life and a name she had heard spoken every day since, and for not knowing their demons. Rhaegar told he they had MANY.

                          How many of them, her parents’ demons, haunted her brothers still?

“I don’t think forgetting your pain should be the goal –– it seems like it would set you up to experience the same pain again and again.”

[hellfought]

“ i don’t want your apologies, i want my wife back! ”    @khrysophos

the    magnitude     of      his     words      washes      over     her,      slicing      through     the      spaces       between       her        ribs       with        more        ferocity      than     any      unforgivable      ever     could .

perhaps     he    cannot     believe     the     truth    of     it,      but     she     loves      him .     sometimes      she     thinks     she     might      go      mad     with      how     much     she     loves      the      man       standing      before      her,       all     haughty     warmth      &      endless      worship      harbored    only      for      her .      rodolphus     does      not     deserve      for     her      eye      to      stray,       she      knows      that,      but     what     is      she       to     do  ?       she’s     a       soldier,       devoted      heart      &      soul      to      another      who       cares       for       her      in      turn .        whose      hands      hold      both       rod’s       &      bella’s            life       and       who      she      doesn’t       dare       to       disappoint .        doesn’t       want      to        disappoint,      either .

❛       it’s      good      you’re     uninterested     in      my       apologies,       rodolphus   -------     I’m     not      offering      any .         ❜        the      words      are      cold,      dripping      with      a      complete      lack       of      emotion      that       stands       in     stark      contrast      to      the       storm      raging    within     her .        my      devotion     to     you     remains ,     my     love ,    she      wants       to       shout .      touch      my      chest     &      feel      how     my       heart      still      beats       for      you .              ❛       I     am      many      things,      your      wife      included .     that      has      not      changed .          ❜  

[visionhcld]

          𝖘𝖆𝖑𝖙  —  the air is thick with it, the breeze warm against his skin.  he can feel it clinging to him, sweat beading at his brows, at his neck, even in the cloudless night, its cooler air;  the salt lingers in his hair.  but, it’s...  nice, a moment alone to simply breathe without feeling the weight of everything.  and even when he senses he’s no longer by himself, he’s hardly put out by the fact.  no, he’s glad of her presence, glad she’s somehow found her way back to them, to him most of all.  “ hello, witchling. ”  he greets her, a hint of laughter in his voice as he turns to face her, hair shifting in the wind.  “ do they have you standing watch now? ”

@khrysophos!