#practise!

[silhouette-cosplay]

learning how to join 4-in-1 chainmail and it SUCKS because hand for scale 😅😅😅

I need some better tiny pliers for sure

[aquitainequeen]

There is a ghost in the opera house. Getting across the Wall was supposed to mean a safe home where there were no Dead, such a Charter forsaken lie, for there are still ghosts in Ancelstierre and there is one in this opera house.

The ballet girls use hand gestures to ward off the Evil Eye. Sorelli has a protective ring with which she makes her own protective signs. These people of Ancelsteierre don’t distinguish between the Dead, or whatever kind of shade this might be, so, fine. Old Kingdom protections call foremost for running water and fire. Christine has to settle for as many candles as she can afford. There’s also steel and bone, yet she only really has the money enough for marrow bones meant for stock. She carves and hangs strings of bone across the doorway to the dressing room, she lines the walls with Charter marks for protection, warding, heat.

Christine isn’t nearly important enough for a dresser to constantly be coming to and fro. Yet Someone notices and tells someone else, and one of the ballet girls approaches her during rehearsal. Asks if she is from beyond the Wall. Christine can’t spot anyone watching them too closely, but she’s still polite while trying to remember the other girl’s name. Yes, she is from the Old Kingdom.

“Can you do magic?”

Christine remembers now that this is Madame Giry’s daughter. Meg. Good thing she was polite. She says that no, she can’t. Which is not really a lie just then, with the wind blowing up from the south and a lot of her heating spells failing; Mama Valerius must spend more on the coal bill.

[red0490]

Malaki! My Void burned boi:D

I’m mostly using him for thinner body type practise X) I think I’m getting the hang of the body type XD

[hi-grace]

rosie redraw, hazbin hotel s2

[hi-grace]

[letschoosethelie]

Torchlight conversations

I can’t help wondering if the lights inside the tunnel is morse code for something, the spaced out prose of a poetic trainmaster who is looking for meaning along the electrified tracks.

I like your hair and the way your sentences are broken into threes and fours with pauses and ums and moments where your tongue rests in limbo while you think of the right things to say. It’s a broken illumination, leaving particles of light in the pauses that I want to catch and gather into jam jars.

I’ll keep them under my bed so the glow can light up my ocean of patchworked sheets like the brightness that pervades eyelids, I’ll wrap your bright around me.

I think I’d like to have tea with the station master and we wouldn’t need words, just sporadic bursts of light. 

[letschoosethelie]

Virtues and graces

And I'm still waiting for you, the cobwebs have grown in the cavity where my heart was once. There's dust in my lungs and my veins are brittle with the dried blood.

But you're still the one I'd wait for, just me and my skin and bones, my heart and brain still beating and thinking and merging, for you. 

Look at the stars, they've moved since I've started waiting, some have died and gone away but others shine brighter than they ever did, look at the sky the stars are spelling out constellations that say:

I'm waiting.