#solitutde

[spacesbetweenletters]

Dear Tumblr,

Thank you for being the best friend I haven’t found yet in a person. You are my haven. My peace. My comfort. The messed up thoughts and my echoes of whispers are safe and heard. You helped me build my character despite the presence of disappointments and failures. Of doubts and pressure. Of uncertainties.

If only I could find a person as understanding as you are. 

[keosartadventures]

enough said .... #solitutde #art #picasso #selfcare https://www.instagram.com/p/CDdMqp2nOvP/?igshid=85upmo1c4gxn

[keosartadventures]

enough said .... #solitutde #art #picasso #selfcare https://www.instagram.com/p/CDdMhQOnd-K/?igshid=1htdkxg6nj66m

[dailygrace64]

Wordless Wednesday Wordless Wednesday

[askelleyyyy]

it felt really good to do absolutely nothing today . ..

i still created , but bed peace is everything ..

[phoenixepiphanyzero-blog]

Always,

On the outside,

Looking in.

[angelicutahraptor]

[nameless] short-preview

The long pipe trilled with its wisps of smoke.

 The faint embers pulsed in the dark, its soft orange glow was echoed by the thick tents cloth, the braids of intricate design in fire and gold, dancing with the few candle-lamps that kept the room warm. It was almost lewd under the gaze of sauntering, pupiless eyes. Refracting an orange and yellow, the open yet unfocused sight was the only distinction from the massive form, the hardy muscle and bone-like escapade from their forehead, lost in the darker designs of cloth above.

 A slow, heavy inhale. A slow, deep exhale. A plume of smoke snaked out from thick teeth as it began to rise to the top of the tent, filling the air with a layer of thick smog, faintly pink in hue and causing the light to flicker, and dance.

 ‘Mlord” Those open eyes remained unfazed. The tent door was pushed open. a maroon hat poked through, a scholarly boy poking his head in, glasses slightly too big for the scarf-wound neck. ‘M’lord?” Another slow inhale, and equally thick exhale. The eyes slowly looked upward, head tilting up. The being was aware, and attentive. The boy quickly stepped inside, and following a bow, straightened his back ‘M’lord there have been express concern over the messengers you’ve sent to the other camps. We’ve received word that they’ve arrived, but…the message is… odd.’ A deep murmur filled the space; proclaiming power and presence, yet still soft; quiet, lulled. The beast was tired, and the light of their pipe hardly danced as they spoke. “Is the scripture encoded?” The boy bowed again quickly “Aye m’lord, but its... not in what it should be, if there were an emergency. It’s…different.” A large hand raised, and the boy paused, but it merely raised to rub the glowing eyes. For a moment, the tent dimmed as they were closed, a pause of silence as the faint candle lamps, flickered in non-existent breeze, until more light pooled into the space; eyes open again, hand resting back on a nearly impossible to see armrest. “You’ve charge of the messengers, Y’san. I trust your judgment if a message is considered foul, misplaced, tampered or otherwise encroached in a message. If you believe there is something to it, I will look into it. “ Y’san stood straighter, arms clamped around a pair of scrolls to his chest. “I do believe it’s something M’lord, but...maybe not deathly important. At the very least, none seem to be in danger.” “Good, good.” Another low murmur, and the eyes calmed their intense gaze. “Take your time decoding, encryptor. I’ll hear what you have to say in the morning. Y’san, the scholar boy and encryptor for the ‘non-existent clan’, bowed with reverence once more “Yes M’lord,” And out he whisked, the heavy blanketed doorway hardly moving as he slid through the opening. The gangly frame, already lost in the thick folds of clothing, disappeared in the sea of the night, the stars, and moon. A slow inhale, and a deep exhale, and the dim, golden eyes sunk to the ground, as did the rest of his great body.

The night was quiet now. Hardly a raven or a crow, which either or would be welcome company at this hour. No, there was nothing but a muddle of distant noises. Crickets, the trees, the river. The music of war, that’s what he could understand. That was his home, his ground of language, his world. This peace? This still, night air, cold pine smell and brilliant, open night sky. This quiet solitude weighed far heavier now in his heart, far more than any battlefield-laiden death ever could.

- - -

t.b.c

[intp-conquest]

A bore is someone who deprives you of solitude without providing you with company.

Oscar Wilde