florimond - Tumblr blog

[florimond]

Dark academia aesthetic.

[florimond]

Boats on the Stour, 1811, John Constable

Medium: oil,canvas

[florimond]

Florimond’s Tale, by Talk to Transformer

After leaving his study, Florimond turned to his servants. "We are now at peace," he said, addressing each individually. "No more need to worry, my dear," he added.

He then left the castle and made his way to his chambers, stopping to inspect his possessions. He then set his pack on his bed, making sure to place the dagger, a single-edged blade he had used so often in his past, on the top. Afterward, he took out a book and began to read.

As Florimond read, he was overwhelmed with nostalgia. He remembered how it felt to feel his heart beat, the feeling of the wind in his hair, the smell of the flowers in the garden, the warmth of the sun, the feel of his skin on his forehead and down his neck. It felt like this life was a dream, but he'd lived it. This was real, and he was still here. He'd done it without anyone's help.

It was all right to dream again. That was what a man could do with his memories, even a past that seemed so distant and unreal. There was only one way to find out, and that was to go back and see for himself.

"There's a little bird," Florimond said. "I can't see his face, but he's sitting in a big tree by the beach. I can hear him singing."

"I think he's telling you something," said the little man, and Florimond saw that he was clutching a white paper with the word "Breathe," written in small white letters on it.

"It's time," he said, and he picked up the little paper, and went back to the house.

It was still early on a bright summer's morning, and the day was just beginning to get warm when Florimond came back.

"How was the little bird?" she asked.

"He's singing," he said, "but not very loud."

"It won't sing very loud till he gets bigger," she answered.

"You're right," he replied. He stood up, and looked out across the pasture and into the cornfield. The sky was bright blue. There were a few birds flying around, but nothing to be alarmed by.  He watched the sky for some time, until he felt a little light-headed.  He felt so light-headed that he was about to fall off of the hill.  Then, he saw it, just over the horizon.  It was a large bird, flying very slowly, and it was very beautiful.  The light in the sky was very bright.  There were also a few deer grazing on the hill and in the cornfield. The sky was very blue, and the light was coming from the stars, as they were high in the sky.  There were no clouds in the sky.  There were no clouds anywhere. 

[florimond]

[florimond]

Ken

“Florimond?” Claudant asks, speaking in hushed tones as he steps out of the shadows into the candle light of the rector’s study in the cathedral’s library. He moves in closer and rests his hands on the bookshelves as he passes by, scanning between them for any sign of the man in question.

Rowan

Across the room, seated at a table with a heavy tome open in front of him, Florimond looks up as his eye is caught by movement and his ear by the soft sound of a voice, quiet as it is. He waits for a moment in silence until the figure comes further into view from between the bookshelves, and his eyebrows raise as he registers it. He lifts an arm into the air, hoping to catch the man’s attention without raising his voice.

Ken

Claudant’s eyebrows shoot up as he spots Florimond’s wave, shooting him a quick smile as he swiftly closes the distance between them. “We need to move,” he says, “now. I will explain on the way out. Any business you have must be set aside, unless it is a tremendous emergency.”

Rowan

“Understood,” Florimond says lightly, his tone neutral, and rises from his seat, lifting and closing the tome and tucking his stool back under the desk in swift silence. He takes the briefest of detours as they pass the bookshelves to tuck the book back into its appropriate location, attention turned back to Claudant at once. “What has happened?”

Ken

Claudant takes a deep breath, exhaled as a resigned sigh. “It’s to do with Romarique,” he says, very quietly, “I will say that much.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and peers up over his hand to the door, making it known visually that this is no place to discuss the matter.

Rowan

Florimond frowns, but, recognising the need for discretion, gives no further reply than a light nod as the two of them make their way through the library and out into the hallway. He allows Claudant to lead without question, trusting him to direct the situation as required, but the mention of Romarique’s name had immediately struck him with dread.

[florimond]

Katzenversammlung (The Cats’ Assembly) by Quint Buccholz, 1995

[florimond]

The Winning Hand - Georges Croegaert

[florimond]

it’s all “accidental hand touch” this and “brief longing gaze” that, where’s my support at for “reaching up and fixing someone’s collar for them” crew??

the intimacy disguised as helpfulness! the lingering contact! the optional subdued “you look nice” as they stand too close!!

expand your pining vocabulary people

[florimond]

[florimond]

[florimond]

Took a few attempts but I got a nice one of Florimond too. Doing this is making me want to paint actual portraits of my characters along these lines…

[florimond]

A Divine Secret - Henri Adolphe Laissement

[florimond]

#30ShadowScreenshots 13. Your favorite 3.x location

“You are free to go wherever you want. But leave a part of your heart here in Ishgard. It belongs here.” — Edmont de Fortemps, Aus der Dunkelheit deines Herzens

[florimond]

Just in case you ever wondered what the garden inside the Vault is like.

[florimond]

[florimond]

Shadowbringers 30 Day Countdown Screenshot Challenge

Your favorite 3.x location

Ishgard without a doubt. It’s still my favorite main city to this day. I really love the Gothic architecture and feel of this zone and find myself visiting often.

[florimond]

Hampstead Hill, Looking Down Heath Street, 1881, John Atkinson Grimshaw

Medium: oil