Jan 7, 2019
NERO Empire unofficial tavern night, January 5th 2019
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NERO Empire unofficial tavern night, January 5th 2019
Settie Taethath Serdanhia&Adept Hathir Sauros
(should hopefully be getting married next year, FINALLY. only been an 80 year engagement rofl)
Taethath was sleepless, as she often was, but it was no ordinary night. The womb of the moon was rounder than she’d ever seen it, and she did not need a candle to write by in such gilded light. Perhaps this silver lady was carrying twins, Taethath thought ruefully. Twins..., as she herself had once, in a dream, but that too was no ordinary dream. Two Minds within her, safe and nurtured, until cruel consciousness had stolen them away. All that had been left with her were their names.
...Perhaps that was all that would ever be of those children.
Her poem finished, she held it up in the light like a toast to a monarch's long, glorious life. She read it to her audience of one, though her guest was a grand one indeed.
--- “Some bound up leaves - forgotten lore, A Book of Hours, a blood-smeared floor, A dress of velvet splashed with gore Seams split, sleeves stained and hems are tore.
The body ‘neath no better wore, Dispatched to some low base knave’s chore As debt repaid, a settled score, All parties sated, set, and swore.
It makes one wonder: what's it for? In those pages, an open door? And through them, power, heights to soar? And magic straight into your core?
It’s said: thick blood cannot be poured, Kept by time with tight bonds of yore. ...Within our veins we've quite the store, And I do plead, worth all the more.” ---
With the last word from her lips, she ambled to bed. The page of verse slipped from her fingers, and at last, at last, she slept.
[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 and Hathir
did another one!
(http://www.dolldivine.com/deity-of-clouds.php)
Stonie shenanigans! Hathir Sauros, Taethath Serdanhia, and Fein Hunenza
played around with that Meitu app everyone is using.