#tenebrial

[eritvita]

like’d from x ;

@tenebrial

“Hast thou a thought for thine hymns?” asks Roland, suddenly, appearing on sacred ground in the backyard of an abandoned cathedral; the crumbling walls only a subtle melancholy compared to the broken glass of soured monuments, raised hills, and the bolts of jagged, yellow lighting from the bulbous, generous clouds. He appears in the cradle at the bottom of a tree, and holds his chin in his palm, watching her.

“Nova Deam, art thou musical? Thus of pluck’d strings and the slide of a Goodly bow?” continues he. “Hast thou an evening in faire?” For his Mind is riddled with images brought upon him by the rainbows of the Third Scale, and Roland is spiritually agitated, physically picking, and mentally unmoored.

He has a want to birth music, yea, and in So for a Goodly Reason. “Prithee: hast thou? Art thou pre-planned this e’en?”

[deadxscream]

‘You don’t understand, I’m in love with a man who’s tried to kill me several times.‘

shit the sailor moon discord says // @tenebrial

   “–My dear masochist sister, I believe you are the only one to blame for that one. And you are correct – I do not understand.”

[scathian-blog]

❝ When I said “be discreet”, this was not what I meant… ❞

Dark Brotherhood starters / @tenebrial​

Status: Not Accepting

“You are concerned. I do not understand. You have complained ofthe difficulty in speaking while we travel in public. I have found a solution. Is this not thepurpose of the holiday?”

The night’s chillrustles through rippling linen, s w i r l i n g into the cold nothing hiddenbeneath. The S H A D O W peers down through rough cut sockets, thetilt of mimicked head and shoulders drawing up his makeshift shroudby fractions. Faint c u r l s of darkness break free through the gap tod a n c e over the pavement, only to be whisked away on the breeze asswiftly as they fell. Perhaps longer bedclothes would have been wise.

“Do you do notapprove of this costume? It was not my preference. I had wished to mirror theform of one of your me-mes. But I was unable to locate the whitefootwear required for the Damdanyell.” Eyes of abyssal ebony turnto the filled street, the variety of beasts and monstrosities thesemortals have chosen to portray an intriguing amalgamation. One inparticular draws the S H A D O W’ S gaze, understanding formingthrough the tumult of cosmic dust. “Ah, is this the source of yourdisquiet?”

“Is it notcustomary for these ‘ghosts’ to manifest in floral patterns?”

[duskgathers]

I'm in love with Cece and Nova and you should be too,

send me positivity of people you love and i’ll @ them.

@kinmokian | @tenebrial.

it’s true and you should say it. everyone should be in love with cece and nova.

[withinycu-arch]

tenebrial replied to your post: I’m never gonna be over the fact ‘Enkil’ is...

just throw out all of it, start over, deny Anne Rice exists

I’M ALREADY REWRITING HER ENTIRE BACKSTORY

[cosmamas]

four tropes for the cosmom

tropes for days / accepting.

i. being good sucks!: she gives up on any chance of a normal life, her relationship with her family / friends, etc. to become cosmos and fight in almost seemingly impossible war and her only reward is a cape added to her sailor fuku.

ii. classical antihero: is a inversion of herself with usagi being more of the ‘traditional’ hero. from the trope page: in short, while the traditional hero is a paragon of awesomeness, the classical antihero suffers from flaws and hindrances. the classical antihero's story tends to be as much about overcoming his own weaknesses as about conquering the enemy. not that usagi doesn’t have flaws but cosmos’s 15 seconds of screen time is mostly about her being self-deprecating before acknowledging her flaws as a soldier, deciding to shape up, and fight after being reminded of her former strength in sailor moon.

iii. stepford smiler: the depressed type. she’s laughing, smiling, and playing the role as an innocent, cute toddler despite being a self-proclaimed failure who is currently running away from her duties and has seemingly left the few survivors in her time to fight sailor chaos by themselves.

iv. well-intentioned extremist: boy is she one despite not being a villain. she decides that there’s no other way to defeat sailor chaos outside of going to the past to convince her past self to destroy the source of all life galaxy. she thinks this is a reasonable request. this also may or not dip into secretly selfish territory because sometimes i’ve even wondered on whether she was convincing usagi to destroy the cauldron in order to spare the galaxy from chaos’s future onslaught or was to spare her from having to deal with it. it could be both.

[eritvita]

continued from x ;

@tenebrial

"Yea,” answers he solemnly; for there is no going back from this Moment, and there is no opening of the Doors of Time, naught withheld the physical form, and naught withheld the cost of Truest Knowledge.

“Thou art transform’d into something wholly different,” confers Roland tenderly, as he sits upon the grass with her, and admires the coagulation of vibrant energy at the centers of both of her palms. He sits still, idle as a statue; the forgotten shade of his horns absent. “Thou art on the throes of an Eon in thine eyes, verily, and ‘twill be the Eternity of thine skin. Thine breath wilt give liturgies, and prayers bespoken by thine real Name. All is thine.” And he shrugs his shoulders, and lays back finally into the grass: to spread his limbs wide, and to soak fully within his Father Sun.

Roland laughs lightly, swollen within his spirit. “For my personal endowments of the heel-clicking Life of mine, I am Whole. I am whit-waker and wand-maker, whenever I choose and am paid for thus,” he obscurely clears his throat. “-- and am given the blessings to perform my Arts, when and to whomever I so choose, thus at great lengths! Naught is thine Form a bane; naught is thus a boon. Thus is Thine.” And Roland nods firmly, proud of Himself.

[deadxscream]

CONTINUED FROM X // @tenebrial​ 

  A STRANGER, yet with an air so familiar -- a being of cosmic power and terrible, horrifying beauty. That was who approached her now, the mist and fog of her home parting around prismatic light, eyes that burned like stars in the endless night of space piercing through the veil that cloaked her.  Kill on sight, that was her mission as eternal guard and ruler of the dead -- yes, add more to their numbers by eliminating the life of anyone who dare trespass and made themselves known to HER.

The dead whispered to her ( ‘banish, vanquish!’ ), but their fear and awe fell on deaf ears. She ignored their cries and watched the goddess approach, her bloodlust not present in the presence of a sister.  Oh, how she had waited eons to be recognized for her true self, in all her wretched glory, without the damning tales of the monster behind the door. Here she did not have to pretend, did not have to hide herself away from mortals and beings too fearful of all that she was (and what she could become). 

   A shudder as the other’s hand touched her skin, garnet eyes shining brightly as if refracting the light of the Sun (like those that burned in the void of THE OTHER).  There is no fear here, no, but love -- she feels it in the way the words drip from foreign lips, in the touch on her cold, lifeless skin. “ Thank you. . . but it is my purpose. Anyone else would be driven mad.” A duty fit for eternal damnation. 

    A cautious hand, covered in stardust and shadows, reaches up to mirror the action -- and despite the desolate cold of space she can feel warmth, in this moment, in this connection between two. “The only constant is myself. More, less . . . each second’s passing reveals a new truth, a new lie. What is always here is me. And what of you . . . what brings you here?”