to die alone

@godbetrayer / godbetrayer.tumblr.com

I wept not, so to stone within I grew
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reblogged

hot take: aquarius is less “unique/quirky” and more stubborn/intellectual. aquarius doesn’t do things people see as weird for the sake of being weird, so it is a bit of unclear language to say that weird and strange and unpredictable are core traits of the sign. rather, aquarius is more likely to latch onto intellectual/abstract thoughts and execute them regardless of practicality or norms. it may look strange, but the strangeness is not often a part of aquarius’ mental calculus. it’s just a byproduct of living a life that prioritizes ethics, curiosity and freedom of thought, and a refusal to be moved from their ideals

#ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘᵐ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖᵃʳᵗˢ┆ʷᵒˡᶠ ᵒᶠ ʳᵉᵇᵉˡˡᶤᵒᶰ
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mirevas-blog asked:

❝ My gracious lord, I tender you my service. ❞ - Revas

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“Of course !” he exclaims, with a laughing, callous charm. He waves an impatient arm forward, naked flesh of the god pulled tight over lean muscle.  A lanky creature, really, a build not meant for imposition. It does not seem divine. 

He has spoken to her, but he does not truly see her. His gaze is elsewhere, cast aside upon more interesting things, upon the songbirds perched by the open balcony, the sunlight streaming through the colonnade. He throws an elbow over the back of his settee, freshly cleaned and relishing the delicious taste of the warm air on his skin, the sweet freedom of the day.

#mirevas#ᵗᵒ ʰᵘᶰᵗ ᵃᵐᵒᶰᵍ ᵇʳᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ┆ᵉˡᵛʰᵉᶰᵃᶰ#(thanks i hate it)#(am i being too on the nose? yes. do i care? no. i will slam that symbolism down as hard as i want)
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reblogged

FELASSAN‌:

Stillness. A sole sharp movement - in moments after the stuttering beginning dies. After the justification is stifled on the pink lips. Quelled. All by a dying god himself. The one, who would be but a man. The motion - a burst of color. Violet from beneath the embrace of the cloak. Refraction of the setting sun. Felassan’s eyes rise - level with the face of the Wolf. A first meeting.
The Slow Arrow stands a little taller. A little bolder. Greater. Their chest rises tenaciously. Heels stay planted where they were - in the decay of the indifferent groves, so vibrant with life. For a moment instinct held his ribs in the halting clutches of terror.
How embarrassing, that.
“ Of course not, “ is given in an easy murmur, voice curling coldly around the trace of the hindered meaning. So scarcely amused, so very close. Almost familiar cadence. Then, they listen.
A springy step. Moss consumes the noise. “ Ah, see? That’s a bit better. Something to figure the logistics of, later. Revas will be thrilled. “
Another step. Weary hands slip into the folds. Under the light returns the simple blade, so very close to the soft, vulnerable belly only clad in clothes. Felassan twirls it, hilt first. A hum, deep in the slender throat. Never once had they looked away, now.
“ And — that … You can carve the next one, “ like the rest of us. “ I’ll show you how. “

He does not quail before the watchful eyes.  The elf is still a stranger to him, for all the time spent traveling together,  he knows so little of they whom he hunts beside.  The Slow Arrow is a creature stitched of inconsistencies, a composite of memories that Fen’Harel knows will not be his to claim. Felassan bears enough  through the ink on his skin, a memory he refuses to have taken from him, to be made undone.  Some things, Fen’Harel has learned, cannot be not be scourged, even long after the scar has faded. Felassan, he thinks, wishes to show that. To make it his.

Still, Fen’Harel cannot help but recall another pair of eyes looking back at him, hungry, hunter’s eyes, and a fleet step far quieter even than his.

This time he holds his tongue, humbled now by the outburst that almost was. It cuts him more to know its coldness. Its pride.  

He watches the chill glint of the knife, the deft brown digits, and takes the proferred tool, fingers closing around the solid grain of the hilt.

#ᵗᵒ ʰᵘᶰᵗ ᵃᵐᵒᶰᵍ ᵇʳᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ┆ᵉˡᵛʰᵉᶰᵃᶰ#godbroken
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tenaciousheart

REVKA:

Another huffed snort worthy of an irritable bull flares Revka’s nose, the noise an altogether aggressive, if agreeable, one. “Isn’t that the bloody truth of it,” she says from behind the barrier she makes of crossed arms, still wary of their conversation’s near brush with the personal. “Can’t swing a sack in a Chantry without it thumping into a sister what thinks she’s as close as another bride to the Maker.”
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“Not just them, either. Only have to ask what folk think of mages ‘fore they start spouting off some shite over what the Maker says or meant or demands‘bout magic and their lot. Bit like shouting into a cave, isn’t it? When there’s no sound coming out it, anything’ll echo off the walls.”

His eyebrow quirks at her turns of phrase, amused but not unappreciative of their color. He’s encountered enough of the suspicious and the ignorant, nursing his bitterness in turn.

“In my travels, I have found that the Chantry’s aptitude for persecution and willful disregard is a strength among its tenants.” He does not hide the curl of his lip, a sour taste of lost entreaties and appeals.  “I fail to understand how an institution founded on the basis of rebellion and liberation can so uphold the very crimes its dogma rejects!” He exhales through his teeth in a frustrated sigh of warm air, knowing well the making of such religions.

Time is an enemy of all revolutions.

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Shifting the weight on his hips, he begins again, more coolly: “There is comfort in the cave, for most. Security in a knowable, finite world, in the echoes of our own pretensions of belief. But perhaps we are all guilty of this, at times.” 

#ᵗᵒ ᵘᶰᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵏʸ┆ᶤᶰᵠᵘᶤˢᶤᵗᶤᵒᶰ#tenaciousheart
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(cont - x.) | @thedraisms

“Not so busy as to turn away another pair of hands.”  He smiles, the discrete muscles of his cheek twitching, pushing the soft tissue into a time-creased smile. 

“Master Gatzi has a keen eye for composition, but I suspect this particular art form is a strange indulgence he allows me. Something I happened to learn when I was young. Here.” He turns to her, chalky pigment smearing color in the rough grooves of the quern. “An exciting task,” he says, eyes crinkling, knowing otherwise, “And now yours, for the moment.” He offers the handstone with his left, standing in the radiant core of sunburst sketches. They are primitive lines, blackened charcoal streaks upon the expensive, fibrous sheets.  There is a strange, simple intensity to them, raw and unformed, only yet suggestions of ancient stories seeking voice in the living actors of this world.

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“While I do not savor depriving you the undoubted charms of the course of study Lady Montilyet has arranged, I have no question that she will see to its completion soon enough. She has admirable talent and sufficient determination.”

#ᵗᵒ ᵘᶰᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵏʸ┆ᶤᶰᵠᵘᶤˢᶤᵗᶤᵒᶰ#thedraisms#(greetings mirthadra welcome to GRINDING PAINTS)
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RULES: Bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations.

AIR. I have small hands • I love the night sky • I watch small animals and birds when I pass them by • I drink herbal tea • I wake to see dawn • The smell of dust is comforting • I’m valued for being wise • I prefer books to music • I meditate • I find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE. I don’t have straight hair • I like to wear ripped jeans and overalls • I play an organized sport • I love dogs • I am not afraid of adventure • I love to talk to strangers • I always try new foods • I enjoy road trips • Summer is my favorite season • My radio is always playing

WATER. I wear bracelets on my wrists • I love the bustle of the city • I have more than one set of piercings • I read poetry • I love the sound of a thunderstorm • I want to travel the world • I go to sleep past midnight most days • I love dimly lit diners and fluorescent signs • I rewatch kids’ shows out of nostalgia • I see emotions in colors not words

EARTH.  I wear glasses • I enjoy doing the laundry • I am a vegetarian or vegan • I have an excellent sense of time • My humor is very cheerful • I am a valued advisor to my friends • I believe in true love • I love the chill of mountain air • I’m always listening to music • I am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER. I go without makeup in my daily life • I make my own artwork • I keep on track of my tasks and time • I always know true north • I see beauty in everything • I can always smell flowers • I smile at everyone I pass by • I always fear history repeating itself • I have recovered from a mental disorder • I can love unconditionally

tagged by. @thedraisms  tagging. @winterfollows  | @despairprayer | @aglaecan

#ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘᵐ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖᵃʳᵗˢ┆ʷᵒˡᶠ ᵒᶠ ʳᵉᵇᵉˡˡᶤᵒᶰ#(a lot of his aspirations make me sad gdi solas)#(HI IM NOT DEAD FJKGHFD)
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