#patientia

[murkmirth-halo]

🔥🔥SNAPPER SATURDAY🔥🔥

[home-of-shattered-glass]

The virtues facts.

Humilitas can copy voices and even colour schemes but can never form a face. Only reflections. She needs to be around the others to seem more existent

If Temperantia ingests anything but her specific vials through her abdominal port she will malfunction so badly she thinks she’s dying

Diligentia suffers extreme paranoia but her quietness makes her seem cool and collected and her lack of eyelids makes her wide eyed expression seem more casual

Humanitas is a hostage in her world, hooked up to a machine to try to get information out of her but also take her energy and boost autobot sadism and morale

Cartitas is able to perform surgeries with the organs she gives from herself due to her regenerative abilities

Castitas’ eyes burn from pouring acid into it so long ago but to her it’s just a representation of how strong her will is

Patientia is a wanderer in her wasteland of a world. Her arm is in constant agony but she won’t accept Cartitas’ arm offerings

[reapermako]

I came to your blog bc of the wlw absol and got more wlw and milfs, i have no other questions where do i sign 👀

would u sign ur soul away to kiss her 😳😳😳😳😳😳

[angely18dairuvis]

Si tuvo fe para pedir, tenga paciencia para esperar.

[giggle-me-this]

Nate had spent the better part of two hours lurking around Under Street dreading what he was here to do. The cheque from his father was burning a hole in his pocket and he’d been in to have a drink at almost every bar on the street before he finally resigned himself enough to walk into Patientia around 8:45pm. The shop was empty—thank god—and Nate quickly spotted the person he was looking for working the last of his shift behind the desk, which Nate didn’t hesitate in approaching with purpose. Might as well get this over with.

“Envest…” he said flatly as a means of greeting. Rude by the standards of their elite society, maybe, but what was the point of being overtly formal when there wasn’t anyone else in earshot, and when Nate didn’t actually care? “…I’ve got a, uh…business proposition to lay on you. If you’re not busy…which, clearly, you’re not.”

@tylermagnusenvest

[lacrimoso]

patienti-a 

gives gentle hugs

He’ll let it happen. All with a light huff and a cross of the arms.

The next person to give him a dirty look, though? They’re getting a hook to the head. Right to the head.

Hell, he’s even searching for contenders right now.

Josef, though? He’s safe.

[mythsought]

Send “#b” for a shuffled music starter - Blue Caravan by Vienna Teng .:. @patienti-a

              Josef is simply like this sometimes. Unruly and restless, almost wild with the want of sleep between the kind silk coverings of their bed, splashing among the puddles of moonlight with all the troubles still bending round that pretty head of his. Aramis is near to him in the chalky evening light, ghostly and soft and bent on one elbow to hold his chin as he pities the poor angel with his vast blue eyes. His lonelier hand is happily combing down the curls of Josef’s downy hair. He looks like he wants to smile though his voice carries the implication of it far more than his mouth as it moves around his sweet voice. “...You know? Mekhi would sing to me when I was sleepless on our adventures. But he’s a regular songbird if there ever was one, so he’s always singing anyway. Even so...his voice was the most soothing I ever heard. Lend me a moment. I remember I loved one tune and tale in particular...”

                  He thinks. Or rather he pretends to--buying time when the words are already polished and known--so he might gather the angel’s dark crown to his white chest and cradle him there near his heart and his humming voice. The song runs from him like rain while he bends to whisper it into his beloved’s ear. “Blue, blue caravan, winding down to the valley of lights, my true love is a man who would hold me for ten thousand nights...” a breath pauses the song in its tuneful wake for only the pulse of time it takes to kiss the man’s temple, to brush their cheeks together, “in the wild, wild wailing of wind, he’s a house ‘neath a soft yellow moon--so blue, blue caravan, won’t you carry me down to him soon?”

[thefugitivesaint]

Pieter van der Heyden (1530-1572) (after Pieter Bruegel the Elder), 'Patience' (Patientia), 1557 Source: http://www.harvardartmuseums.org/art/278554