conjure

issy 𓂃24 𓂃 est 𓂃 multi muses

[shisasan]

October 14, 1925 Journals of Anais Nin 1923-1927 [volume 2]

[trench-ghost]

[soulaccee-deactivated20250425]

Let’s walk under the moon, by the ocean, hand in hand.

[immaculatesacredheart]

[arylleth]

a coffin is too ordinary for your body, I'd bury you in my own arms

[lipfilllers]

[vintagewoc]

Marpessa Dawn with Breno Mello in Black Orpheus (1959)

[xcnjrex]

𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀 hated the humidity, it wasn't something that she could get used to ─ - she found herself always waking up covered in the worst rushed muddy heat. today was no different. once the panic subsided, she groggily began dragging her hands across her face before fully fixing her eyes open to the room around her then quickly at the beaming red light that read the time ─ 8:45 in the evening. this is around the time the woman got herself together and headed to the marketplace when the night began to come alive. 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀 gracefully got ready once she managed to crawl from the comfort of her bed, attending to herself in the bathroom shortly after to her vanity where she wasted no time to smother her body in butters, oils and marinated herbs. adorned herself in gold and slipping on her burgundy soft cotton kaftan dress. 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀's hair, wild and unrestrained, flowed like ink over her shoulders. she paused for a final, searching glance at her reflection, then descended the stairs into the waiting night. the oppressive heat of the evening clung to her as she stepped beyond the threshold, the world outside seemed both menacing and alive, whispering from the distance in the darkness.

𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀 made her way down the road, the air thick as syrup, carrying the scent of wet earth and magnolia. spanish moss dripped from the trees, swaying in the faint, restless breeze. finally entering the marketplace she loved seeing how the lanterns flicked, each one casting trembling pools of light across the brick path road. the woman moved with quiet grace, her dress whispering around her ankles. she clutched her items close to her chest, small glass bottles of elixirs, sachets of dried herbs and charms. 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀 found her usual spot beneath an ancient oak, she found comfort in the voices that came from the tree as she worked.

❝ did you miss me? ❞

she asked the tree, placing her palm onto the trunk before going back to setting up her items ─ occasionally glancing up at the people and ghouls that walked by or trying to find the location of the woodsmoke she smelled. one of these times, she noticed someone from afar, this caused her to straightened her stance from hunched over the table, instantly curious if this person was one of "her" or one of "them". usually she could tell but there were no signs. a weight began to press against her shoulders, not of fear but curiosity.