in art as in love,

a multi-muse blog written by autumn.

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muses i want 2 add to this blog maybe?

canon charas

raoul de chagny ( based on leroux’s novel, kay’s novel, & the play as well as more current fictions & headcanons )

luca valentino ( from the webcomic sfeer theory )

daniel and/or adam ( from the webcomic ninety-nine righteous men )

ocs

jas, a cambion - they like Cute Ginger Angels and also look like they’re abt to fall over at every single moment ever

z., son of the leader of a future dictatorship & member of the rebellion against that dictator ship ( chara needs a ton of revamp; he’s a super old chara so he’s changed a lot & i want to update their rp info to fit those changes )

vasila, another dnd chara - but i won’t be adding them to the blog until after my dnd group plays the oneshot vasila is involved in bc i wanna keep secrets from my pals who may follow this blog eventually

avery, a good good zombie musician / human trafficker boy who is actually horrible and actually literally in love with his also zombie gf and also is super duper under the control of his & his girlfriends old gang leader

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smokewrought:

           the light is blinding at first. his name rings out and it’s like a shot to the chest. he isn’t too certain why or how at first but after a glance around he comes to the startling realization. he’s since this before. darker, though, he must admit. after gathering his bearings he takes the moment of blessed silence to recover and prepare to listen to more cautious words.

     “ why must you all speak in riddles? is this a game you love to play because i am most certainly not a fan. ”  however this one is much easier to read than vax’s lady.  “ who are you to seek me out like this? ”  he’s curious to see who’s attention he has got. while he has some semblance of an idea, gods are not exactly percival’s forte.  “ because i know very well my lips have had no part in any of your kind’s blessings. ”

‘ WHO YOUR LIPS SING PRAISE TO IS OF LIGHT CONCERN TO MYSELF. THAT YOU WOULD SPEAK FOR THE GROWTH AND NOURISHMENT OF THE LAND YOU LAY CLAIM TO IS A FAR MORE IMPORTANT MATTER. ’ his voice, while booming, is calm before anything else; he seeks not to strike fear into the little lord, but quite the opposite. ‘ ONE CANNOT PLAY HOST TO A FERTILE FIELD IF THEIR OWN BODY FAILS THEM. ’

the voice shrinks, the echo now only that: an echo, the words repeating, trailing off, and continuing to do so softly as a more soothing tone begins to sound from a more fixed location. in the brightness, the faintest outline of a tree forms, as if growing from seed to adulthood before percival’s very eyes, and under it rests the robed form of the god pelor, eyes closed but smile fixed at his lips. he pats the earth near him expectantly.

‘ i worry for you, and for your sister, and for the land you have freed from a darkness incomprehensible to many of your plane. long has my presence watched over those whose names intertwine with your own. i would offer what comfort i can, for only a conversation in return, as offering. nothing more. ’

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@smokewrought​ | pelor. 

' MIND THE CHANGING OF SEASONS OF YOUR HOMELAND, PERCIVAL FREDRICKSTEIN VON MUSEL KLOSSOWSKI DE ROLO THE THIRD. ’ the man is asleep, blessedly, for the first time in far too long, but this fact amuses more than it annoys, whilst also acting as cause for concern within at least the surface thoughts of pelor’s mind. the city in it’s process of revival is a blessed thing, and beautiful, mirrored tragically by the deteriorating state of those who hold dominion over it. 

‘ AND MIND TOO THE CHANGES IN THOSE WHICH SHARE YOUR BLOOD. YOU LATCH FREELY ONTO A PESSIMISM THAT WOULD SEEK TO POISON THE HOME YOU WOULD SEE REBUILT TO GLORY. THIS POISON ACTS AS A SPREADING ILLNESS, AND IS SPREAD AS NEEDLESSLY AS THE PESSIMISM ITSELF IS FELT. ’ 

the space around them is bright, shining; blinding, but not sterile and wiped clean of all faults. not a pure white space, but more of a space build around the sheer idea of how one feels when taking their first look at the early morning sun on an early spring day after a long, long sleep. it is this feeling given form; abstract and formless by design. ‘ BROKEN AS YOU MAY INDEED BE, PERCIVAL, YOUR MIND MISCONSTRUES THE WORDS OF THE GODS AND WARPS THEM GREEDILY. YOU ARE NOT QUITE SO LARGE A MONSTER AS YOUR EGO WOULD PROJECT. ’

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ay

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