#l2adf

[bramalamania]

I know like three Basils. This is a bad thing. They're multiplying

Here's one with more text on it coz why not

[letters2adyingflame]

basil "innocent" horvat...

(template under cut!)

[letters2adyingflame]

Mister Basil Horvat,

I’ve told you many a time that my heart has been taken by another. Just as you said—Mister Pittsbury and I are bound together in a “contracted and sacramental way”, and you possess no power to smite the will of God Himself.

But alas, you adore me, or at the very least claim to, for all you see is the surface, and not what lies underneath. Basil, you know the blood in my veins is warm with your yearning, but it is Holden that allows that blood to flow.

I used to entertain your silly advances, but now I realize what they meant to you. To you, I am a subject, and you are the painter. You’ve seen me, heard me, and loved me; but most of all, you’ve drawn me. You wish to immortalize me in those wretched nude sketches of yours, in that almost degrading painting portraying me as Venus, in that incomplete sculpture of me in that modest evening gown. If I am to be your “love”, how is it that I feel none?

Call me an angel all you like, Basil, but I would prefer to be wed to a man that spares a shred of dignity for me than to one that makes me his muse. I feel your care, your love, your admiration, but what for? If you love me as you claim to, how? You have the audacity to compare my voice to the gospel, to measure my worth by my appearance, to act as if I am something that exists as an art form.

No—Basil, you do not love me. You merely adore me.

If I have taken you captive: please, escape while my back is turned, for I cannot face you any longer.

Eislyn Eden

[letters2adyingflame]

Good day!

Do you like toxic relationships set in the Victorian era? That's amazing! You should like, totes invest in Letters to a Dying Flame... hahaha...

Welcome to the wonderful world of Basil the Great (or Letters to a Dying Flame), a play (being) written by yours truly @bramalamania.

Though the play shan't be published until... well, much later, enjoy crumbs of lore on here! Have fun promenading as I dangle my ocs in front of you. Please don't kill them, they're all like 1 month old.

⚠️ Also! Not everything is posted in order.

[letters2adyingflame]

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

BASIL HORVAT, starving artist

LIZZIE HORVAT, short for Elizabeta, paternal cousin of Basil

BLYTHE SCHULZ, friend of Lizzie

MALCOLM KENSINGTON, friend of Basil

FERNANDO MONTORO, friend of Malcolm

CELESTE NICHOLS, actress with a strained relationship with Basil

CZESŁAW BALINSKI, architect and friend of Basil

LADY EDEN, widowed mother of Eislyn

EISLYN EDEN, opera singer

PERCIVAL EDEN, casino manager, brother of Eislyn, and friend of Holden

LORD PITTSBURY, guardian and paternal uncle of Holden

HOLDEN PITTSBURY, eligible bachelor and nephew to Pittsbury

Extras, Etc. > (note to Bram: fill in later when story develops a little more)

[letters2adyingflame]

ugly sketches of basil and eislyn. thanks alot @bramalamania

[letters2adyingflame]

My dearest star-cros

Dear Holden,

To you, the lo

Holden Pittsbury,

I cannot properly express how much I loathe you. Your essence, your demeanor, your countenance. I hate it all. My hate knows no bounds. It crawls from the pits of Dis and up to the tendrils in my brain. I hate you so much that I love you with all of my heart want to retch every time I see you, for the very sight of your face puts such a rancid disgust in my stomach that I want to split myself open.

Whenever I see you, my heart aches I want to cry over you all over again to spit on your face. All I feel for you is pity. True, sheer pity. My pity is as deep as the ocean is. The depths of the pessimism I feel towards you is immeasurable. All I feel for you is pity and loathing, that’s it! It! It! It! That’s absolutely it!

You ruined my life. Being with you at Oxford ruined my life. While you were smoothing your hair in the mirror, I watched you from behind, silently cursing myself for getting involved with an upperclassman. You rich people are all the same—you put a value on priceless things and discard whatever, whenever. Even if I were adorned with the crown jewels themselves, you would look upon me as if I were a vessel of Satan.

I hate how you were in my art. I hate how much of you was in it. I hate how you were with me every step of the way. I hate every word you say to me. I hate how you used to console me and allowed me to lay in your arms like the world wasn’t against me. I hate how you made me feel like Psyche with your love. I hate your sweet words, your sweet kisses, your everything. Everything. Everything! I hate myself because of you.

I hope one day, I can forgive myself for loving you, and maybe vice versa, if you can ever love without shame. Never again will I be a fool for because of you. I will never let you love me ever again.

[This unsigned letter was found in a drawer. It had been crumpled, ripped, and taped back together. Some burn marks can be seen at the edges.]

[letters2adyingflame]

My dear Basil,

It’s been a week since I’ve last written a letter to you, and you haven’t responded. . . I know how busy you can be, with all of your commissions, but I can’t help but worry. My intention is not to be pushy. As your friend, it’s my job to care for your well-being. I believe my work is secondary to that.

I won’t reiterate anything I’ve said in my last letter, as I’m sure you’ve read it by now, but I will certainly worry and fret over you all the same. In your last letter, I want to say from around 3 weeks ago, you mentioned how you miss our Oxford days with Holden and the rest of them. But you can’t focus on the past too much, as the past has already happened—what matters now is what you do today.

My Bazyli—I know how you hate to admit it—but you take life much too seriously, and you end up burdening yourself with unnecessary stress in the process. I hate to see you so tense. And I also hate that scotch seems to be the only cure for your troubles.

Your vices are something I won’t condemn you for, as I am just as guilty as you are, but I want you to shift more focus on your health, too. I know you take some sort of medication—I beg of you to be careful with that as well. I can see you more agitated this time around, and it breaks my heart.

Why don’t you come over this week? The least I could do is invite you over to make up for all of the nagging I do at you. We’ll have a nice chat, I’ll brew some tea, and maybe we can catch up. Make sure to actually arrive this time, yeah?

Twój na zawsze, your friend,

Czesław Balinski