#stargazing | musing

[celestial-sword-dance]

Multimuse Honkai Star Rail Ask/RP Blog

{rules}

{muses}

{mun}

indie | selective | oc/au/dup friendly

penned by cyber | tag list below

[celestial-sword-dance]

The Astral Express does not fade into a gentle epilogue. They do not taper out in a fleeting decrescendo.

They erupt in blinding, fiery light. A crash of symbols and a roll of drums.

They fall together. A family. One. Into to depths of the Sweetdream.

Sunday’s Ode to Order reaches its climax. The souls of the hundred thousand Oak Family members who dedicated their lives to this final sweet dream chant together in a single, unified cacophony that calls for the heavens to part. He reaches out, and a God reaches back. Electricity buzzes at his metal fingertips, radiant light consumes his vision, bringing molten gold tears to his eyes. All sound and sight cease to exist, and for a single, beautiful reprieve, it is as if he has grasped the stars themselves in his palm. As if he has become one himself, indistinguishable from their divine guidance.

And in a single second more, all falls quiet. The Harmonious Choir continues to sing, compelled by their conductor. Their voices sing for the only pair of ears left to hear them. He is alone. He has succeeded. It is so terribly quiet.

Seconds come in quavers. There is no sun or moon to herald the dawn or night. He stares out into an eternal blackness. A pair of torment eagles stare back at him as they cross the sky together. The birds mock him. The birds pity him. The birds are not real. He is alone. His gaze remains fixated on the stars surrounding him. There is nothing else to look at. The tempo of the chorus comes in beats of four. He counts them diligently, like a child counting sheep to sleep. He does not sleep. All he can do is sleep. He sleeps with open eyes. The Choir's voice becomes as imperceptible as breath. He does not breathe anymore. He can't remember how it felt to breathe. He can't remember his name.

Hours come in minims. They feel an ache in their heart. They no longer have a heart. Their heart dreams for them far below. They cannot remember her name. The Choir's voice becomes a static that fills their ears like the warbling of a damaged record. It scratches their canal. It claws at their brain stem. It seeps into their spine. There is no end or beginning. They no longer end or begin. The melody comes from them. The melody surrounds them. The melody is their name.

Days come in breves. The beats can no longer be counted. Symbols and letters dissolve into soundless notes. THEIR voice is the hammer of ivory keys. Each sound beats a new law into the strings that bind the Choir in heavenly Order. The hearts of THEIR followers below keep time as a chorus of metronomes all aligned in equal signature. THEY know not beauty because THEY know not repulsion. THEY know not perfection because THEY know not flaw. THEY know only Order. THEY are Order. THEIR name is Order. There is only

There is a new voice.

There is a new melody.

There is

"Robin. . . ?"

[celestial-sword-dance]

You Are a Character in a Story, What Kiss Trope is Destined to be in Your Narrative?

The Kiss of Death

The primary instincts of all creatures — sex and death. If you can combine the two they become a bigger selling point. Though not exactly graphic, the Kiss of Death is still sensual, seductive, and very, very deadly. The Kiss of Death comes in many varieties, including: hypnosis, narcotic effect, and sucking out the soul of the victim, which may or may not result in death, depending on the story. Crucially it can also be a symbolic gesture — the kiss itself does not bring death or harm, but the person who receives it knows that his days are numbered.

Tagged By: stolen :p Tagging: the girl reading this <3

[celestial-sword-dance]

How are you color coded?

Purple

the color of wealth, prominence and owing your life to a king and crown, whether literal or metaphorical. you believe yourself above it all, believe that nothing can stand in your way and everything will go according to your master plan. but at the end of the day, you're terrified. terrified of what this quest for fame and glory might cost you. terrified of what you may lose in the rise to fortune. terrified of being alone even when you have so many smiling faces around you. you want truth, you want sincerity, you want… what DO you want, really?

tagged by: stolen

tagging: steal