chalphylight-blog

[chalphylight-blog]

“maybe the universe didn’t want us together, but i sure as hell did.”

She steps closer, reaching for his hand and gently taking them in her own, they cannot even fully wrap around them.

❝ I think that...we were still fated to be together, I’ve never felt more...reassured and at ease than when I am with you; I feel drawn to you, as thought it were destiny, ❞ Deirdre feels as though she is rambling, but she gives him a small smile in reassurance regardless, ❝ But...regardless of what fate has in store for the both of us, I think that we can be together so long as we wish for it desperately enough.  We already went against fate by loving one another to begin with. ❞

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sigurd:  *exists*

deirdre:  😍💖✨💗💕💓💘💞

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hello? i love you

She lets out a small tiny gasp!

❝ I love you too, Lord Sigurd! ❞

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✧ Lady Lachesis;

“Never fear. There are a great many things to learn, but we will go through them one by one. One can hardly be expected to adapt to an entirely new way of life overnight, after all.”

Though perhaps it is fortunate that Deirdre already has the promise of a partner by her side, thus freeing her (for the most part) from the trials that suitors inevitably bring. And there is no doubt in her mind that Deirdre would have received some–she has that sort of ethereal beauty about her, an innocent charm that could make it easy for her to get taken advantage of by others.

How fortuitous, then, that she has Lachesis to aid her.

“In terms of what makes a noblewoman…some would say birth, but I believe it is one’s pride. I mean that as–the confidence with which you carry yourself, the graciousness you afford yourself and others…and the self-respect to know that you should not have to stand for people looking down on you for who you are.”

❝ I see...hm...  ❞

Deirdre begins to twiddle her thumbs, lowering her gaze in thought.  She is certain she lacks the birthright to be a noblewoman.  Her lineage is far from what would consider...noble.  Truly the direct opposite.  But was something she could not change, even if she wishes she could.

Confidence, however...that is not a trait Deirdre considers herself having, not in abundance at least.  It’s not the first that comes to mind when thinking over herself.  Her voice has always been rather meek, as has been her own bearing as a whole.

❝ ...Then - how can I learn to carry myself with pride?  Truthfully, I’ve...never had many aspects of myself to hold in high regard, so...what am I to do in such a case? ❞

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kiss kiss kiss

Her eyes squeeze shut momentarily, giggles bubbling out of her throat.

❝ S-Sigurd…! ❞ She squeaks out his name between more titters of laughter.

❝ That - that tickles! ❞ 

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✧ Homer;

@chalphylight replied to your post “//I present to you: such quality icons as… homer fuckboy.png homer…”

deirdre, buttoning homer’s shirt: you’ll catch a cold sweetie

“I, uh…” Well, he’s never had a lady try to close his shirt before. Should he be insulted? Flattered for the thought? “Th…Thanks? I think…”

She gently claps her hands together when she is satisfied with the state of his shirt.

❝ It’s starting to get quite cold outside, you’ll get a chill dressed like that. ❞  

Although...perhaps it was a bit unwarranted doing this without a warning.  She hopes she didn’t offend.

❝ But, I...apologize if that was untoward of me...  ❞

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{ late night mama deirdre thoughts:  she wants to braid her childrens hair and tuck them into bed and make them heart shaped sandwiches and hold them in her a }

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divinty‌:

          Nothing could compare to hearing her name spoken by the one who had given it to her. Julia wonders, briefly, if her mother knows how much such a feeling means to her. But she needn’t worry herself over her daughter, though she knows that’s what mothers are supposed to do.

          “I am just fine,” she assures, “but I thank your asking. It is nice to know my well-being is a concern to others.” Especially you, she wants to add, but tactfully refrains. Instead, she offers her mother a smile, a genuine one at that, and quietly curls into her touch. Though it is light, it is there, and to that Julia cannot refuse the offer to relish in it.

          Though honest in her answer, she cannot help but feel bad in brushing off any assistance. So, even though she has nothing to do, Julia feels it just to extend the woman a chance—or rather, an opportunity. “But, if you would like to, you can join me… I-I was just going to the gardens. I planned to read there, but we could chat, or have tea, or simply walk together, too.”

Deirdre cannot help but feel her heart grow soft, feeling so incredibly light in her chest.  Julia’s smile gives her such a warmth, a sense of hope and joy within her.  She wishes to hold onto her and never let go.  Whether this is merely something that comes with being a mother or something more, she is uncertain.  

But she does know that she loves her with all of her being.  She is certain of this more than anything else.  Even if she has yet to experience cradling the child before her in her arms and raise her herself, she feels the same sort of attachment and love she feels for Seliph.

She cannot help but visibly perk up at this offer -- her eyes brightening her and posture straightening.

❝ That sounds like it would be a wonderful time, Julia! ❞  She feels so...giddy.  Her skin is tingling from her excitement.  ❝ Nothing would make me happier than just being able to spend time with you.  I...I would love to be able to get to know the lovely young woman that my daughter has become. ❞

Are her words embarrassingly honest?  Possibly.  But she hopes that they don’t come off as such.

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                          HOLD OUT AGAINST THE NIGHT

                    GUARD YOUR HOPE WITH YOUR LIFE

IND. JULIA of FE4. by RIDER.                  

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{ oh are we sharing our friend codes and builds?

here is mom,,, she strong,, }

{ and here is my friend code! }

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✧ Sigurd;

“ Perhaps. ” He answers quietly. As much as Sigurd tries to listen to her words, his mind is wrought with distress. “ I have shown weakness in different ways nonetheless. ”

She parts her lips to speak, but finds that words do not come to her.  Deirdre pauses, instead willing herself to step closer, lifting a hand to gently cup his cheek in her left palm.

❝ Sigurd...even if you feel weak, I see no reason to hold shame in being so. ❞

Deirdre lifts her right palm, cupping his other cheek.  Her thumbs stroke his face gently, following along his cheekbones.

❝ Humans are only capable of so much on their own, regardless of their station or position.  It is best one recognize their own weakness then force themselves to do the impossible.  Remember that you have others who wish to help and support you. ❞

Her love is strong, brave, so many wonderful things.  She thinks him capable of anything in this world, but one man can only do so much, she knows this.  If in some small way she can ease his burdens, his pain, she wishes to do so.  More than anything else.

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✧ L‌ady Lachesis;

Fairy tales…she’d lost herself in such things when she was younger, dreaming of a handsome prince swooping in to save her from the scorn of the village children or something of the like. She hadn’t actually expected her fanciful dreams to come true (to some degree), nor had she expected that courtly life would bring its own set of challenges to face.

“That is kind of you to say, Lady Deirdre. Though truthfully, I have not always been raised this way…so I believe that I understand better than most the struggles you now face. Is there anything in particular you’d like to know?”

Though she is quite sure Lord Sigurd would never scold Lady Deirdre over something like using the wrong utensil, it will certainly make life much easier for her if she learns what will be expected of her behaviour…

She pauses, blinking slowly.  Lachesis hadn’t been raised to be the way she was?  This perks Deirdre’s curiosity, but she fears prying into affairs that she should not, and opts to not vocalize this wonder.  In truth, she can scarcely imagine Lachesis carrying herself in any other way than with the grace of a princess.  

Although to know that there must have been a time where she did not eases her nerves a little.

❝No, I...truthfully, I hadn’t thought of any...particular things I wished to learn,❞ she smiles bashfully, feeling slightly...silly for this.  Perhaps she should have done some more research on her end.

❝But, what would you consider to be one of the most important things I should know?  And - what exactly...makes a noblewoman such?❞

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POETRY STARTERS.

excerpts from andrea gibson’s ‘ take me with you. ‘

ON LOVE.

i intend to leave this life so shattered there better be a thousand separate heavens for all my flying parts.

maybe i need you the way that big moon needs that open sea.

has your heart ever been a hoarder? mine has, but mostly i don’t keep anything but my word.

do you know the night you told me you have a crush on my ears i swore to never become van gogh? and look, they’re both still here.

she makes me feel like i could win the lottery with a parking ticket.

before i met you my joy had such an early curfew it didn’t bother going out.

i know your life has been hard enough already.

we wear our traumas the way the guillotine wears gravity.

it takes a hell of a lot more muscle to stay than to go.

i wish i was the face you show to strangers when they ask you where you come from.

as for my heart, i’ll say: a music box is still a music box even when it’s closed.

i know it is not sexy to make out with someone who constantly has their foot in their mouth.

autumn is the hardest season. the leaves are falling like they’re falling in love with the ground.

i know some people build their safety with walls. me, i’m into demolition.

ON THE WORLD.

we have to create. it’s the only thing louder than destruction.

i believe there is such a thing as a nonviolent fist.

the high road gets backed up, and sometimes we need to take a detour straight through the belly of uncensored rage.

what i question is the idea of heaven having gates – silly.

safety isn’t always safe. you can find one on every gun.

i am aiming to do better.

i want peace when i’m dead.

i’m not the box the gift came in.

what if the weather keeps changing and we don’t?

we were all born on days when too many people died in terrible ways, but you still have to call it a birthday.

there is no weapon more dangerous than a wound. 

it’s cold where i come from. i learned to drown young.

nothing hurts more than living someone else’s life.

it’s a myth that kids are cruel, because we don’t grow out of it.

i just showed up at her house promising to paint my fingernails red with what would gush from her busted face if she ever said it again.

i am so grateful for having a mind that can be changed.

ON BECOMING.

a doctor once told me i feel too much.

beating yourself up is never a fair fight.

every good heart has lost its roof.

bitterness is hell.

you are not weak just because your heart feels so heavy.

ever feel like the best of you is something you’re still hoping to grow into?

i hope to always forgive faster than i write.

we all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe.

i suppose i love this life in spite of my clenched fist.

i want to break every promise i have made to my pain.

i don’t consider myself a cold person, but there’s that windchill factor.

the worst thing that ever happened to me was not the worst thing that ever happened to me. hating myself for it was.

every answer is a grave.

everybody’s dark side is daytime somewhere.

brave is a hand-me-down suit from terrified as hell.

i couldn’t take a compliment without feeling like a thief.

i’m going to kill my own god to fall in love for the first time.

everybody’s survival looks a little bit like death sometimes.

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✧ starter for @divinty

It’s...a little strange, or perhaps, unnerving to look upon Julia - she was her child, this much was clear to Deirdre, they looked so much alike, it was doubtless.  But she was nearly the same age that she herself was.  In addition, Deirdre had yet to even give birth to her at the point in time from which she hailed.

A sign of what laid ahead of her, and thus there are many questions that come to her.

Was she a good mother to Julia?

Did Julia have a happy life?

Deirdre can’t help but wonder.  She hopes the answers to her questions are a resounding yes, but still can’t help but worry.  For Deirdre to even have had a child was a sin, of this she knew.  It was something she had had instilled into the very fiber of her being.  Had her children been affected by this curse of hers?

Her steps are slow, slightly hesitant as she approaches her daughter, gently resting her hand upon her shoulder, her touch is feather-light.

❝ Julia, ❞ she starts, giving her a small smile, ❝ Are you faring well today?  Is there anything that I can do for you? ❞

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✧ starter for @cavaliant

❝ Lady Lachesis, forgive me if this is rather...sudden, but I was wondering if perhaps you might be able to...teach me about court etiquette? ❞

Deirdre plays with her long skirt, twisting and kneading at the fabric with her fingers.  Her face a tad flushed.

❝ The way you carry yourself is so...lovely.  You’ve always seemed like - like a princess from a fairy tale - and I thought that would make you the ideal person to learn such things from. ❞

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✧ Sir Alm;

         ALM TRULY THINKS it barely more than a scratch, but he doesn’t protest much when Deirdre insists upon tending to his wound. A flippant “it’s fine” quickly turns to acquiescence and here they were, his arm held out as she finished wrapping his new bandages. He finds himself not registering her question, signal of the end of the process, until a bit of a delay.

“ Oh ! Yeah, it’s fine. Thanks. ” He draws his arm back to him, his other hand moving to graze over the area where his wound is. “ Sorry. I dunno what lost me there. I’ve just… I’ve never seen anyone do that little bow thing before. That a cultural thing or… ”

He pauses, hesitant to say it but he soon relents to himself. “ ….Maybe it’s just a mom thing ? ”

A mom thing...?

She blinks, her lips parted.  Her initial surprise fades after a few seconds, fading to some embarrassment.  Deirdre twiddles her thumbs nervously, meekly looking away.

❝ ...Perhaps so, although I - haven’t been a mother for very long,  ❞ she giggles, willing herself to brush her shyness aside.

❝ But, I suppose...that I am a mother all the same.  I hope that my actions don’t offend you though, I would never intend to imply that you cannot care for yourself or that I see you as a mere child, Sir Alm.  In truth, I am scarcely older than you are. ❞

As comrades in arms, she would hate to see another be hurt.