#nero larp

[taethath-serdanhia]

NERO Empire unofficial tavern night, January 5th 2019

[taethath-serdanhia]

Settie Taethath Serdanhia&Adept Hathir Sauros

(should hopefully be getting married next year, FINALLY. only been an 80 year engagement rofl)

[taethath-serdanhia]

[hype; non-attending] ---- Under her blanket, a velvet robe, and flannel night-clothes, Taethath shivered at her desk. Night had fallen upon the Academy, extinguishing, what seemed to Taethath, all warmth upon the whole of Tyrra. Taethath could barely move her fingers from the chill, and to summon her hand beyond her woolen cocoon was torture, but she was compelled to write. The echo of verse had been so strong that it kept her from sleep, and she knew no other way to silence it. So, urgently, as if under the threat of an Adept's switch, she set out her pen and ink, and wrote in trailing scribbles, a half-manic distortion of her distinctive Common handwriting. “Summer’s Light has came and went, Since last, think I, Letter sent. From Time’s grip, this brief Relent I could scribe that which I meant To speak, ‘haps an Hour spent On Page blotted, stained, and rent. But Ink serves more; by Walls pent, In Boredom’s vice all but hent.” Finished, she lifted the quill, and blew gently on her words to set the ink. The camphorous, smoky-sweet scent of Kyralian birch tar ink spread through the room. A deep breath of it seeped through her, as if staining her insides with relief and drowsiness. She made the chilling three-step journey back to her bed, each step heavier than the next, and fell in a heap, asleep.

[taethath-serdanhia]

Taethath and Hathir

[taethath-serdanhia]

Stonie shenanigans! Hathir Sauros, Taethath Serdanhia, and Fein Hunenza

[taethath-serdanhia]

played around with that Meitu app everyone is using.

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Taethath riding her black mustang, named Ceta. rough concept done on my phone

[taethath-serdanhia]

ACT XVI

SCENE I. Twilight, in the fallow courtyard at the Kyralian Academy, Logopolis.

AT RISE: TAETHATH walks through barren raised beds, which once housed flowers. The ceremonial pyre burns in the background.

TAETHATH:

You plucked those ruddy roses with all the red of rue,

Deriding me for biding time, my branches slowly grew.

And as those scarlet blossoms fade, as flowers surely do,

Sticks and boughs I'll gather: bows and arrows made of yew.

((TAETHATH stops to let some STUDENTS cross her path; they are late to evening meditation. Once they exit, she continues.))

But, deep within the brambles brushed, half-forgotten, pale of hue,

Are all the thorns you left behind that pricked your fingers through,

With buds that lingered dormant, waiting rested, blooming new,

Untouched by spite's shaping shears, and fed by what is true.

...