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Robert Vickrey (American, 1926-2011), Nun Walking a Brick Road. Tempera on Masonite, 15 7/8 x 21 7/8 in.

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which  tragic  death  would  you  suffer  𓆙 〖 the  unfinished  〗 𓆙

you  die,  hand  outstretched  towards  the  sky,  as  if  to  say  'I'm  not  done  yet.'  there  are  so  many  things  you  still  have  to  do,  so  many  goals  you  still  have  to  reach.  you've  spent  your  entire  life  working  towards  them,  and  doing  nothing  else,  only  to  die  before  knowing  what  accomplishment  feels  like.  they'll  say  your  death  was  a  pity,  that  you  had  such  a  bright  future  ahead  of  you.  it  is  one  you'll  never  get  to  see.

tagged by: no one !! tagging: @singofus (hypatia) @intothewildsea @stygicniron and you !!

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rosalie could also be a druidlock when it comes to d&d classes. she began as a druid (probably circle of land) and then upon making her pact to save her life, she got some warlock levels – either with the undying or the fathomless....

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thinking about the paranoia rosalie has that she's made a deal with the devil when she can suddenly understand any and all serpents around her, not just magically enabled ones. that plus her newfound urges of murder and chaos has her truly thinking she partnered with lucifer himself to save her own life, has her thinking about how far she has fallen from grace.

perhaps this is why she's so determined to stay in the good graces of others. if she's still capable of loving and helping others, perhaps she has not truly fallen.

(she hasn't fallen at all. if anything, she's risen – in the food chain, in the hierarchy to power, in the eyes of the one who saved her.)

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                   what  part  of  this  haunted  house  are  you                                𓆙  〖  the  windows  〗  𓆙

Tell  me,  do  you  look  inwards  or  out?  You’re  a  dreamer  who  feels  just  a  little  too  much  about  things  just  a  little  too  out  of  reach.  There’s  a  longing  trapped  inside  of  you,  to  be  a  part  of  the  nature  that  you  look  over  every  day,  and  you  resent  the  way  people  look  through  you  with  that  same  longing.  They  don’t  get  it.  You  watch  them  in  the  garden,  see  them  get  absorbed  into  nature  little  by  little.  They  don’t  feel  it  as  strongly  as  you  do.  Still,  when  a  new  tenant  moves  in,  a  baby  with  them  this  time,  you  have  to  look  inside  as  the  house  moves  to  absorb  them  before  nature  can.  It  hurts  what  remains  of  your  heart,  your  still  beating  heart  that  feels  just  a  little  too  much.

tagged by: no one !! tagging: @singofus (ariadne) @intothewildsea @ozgog (for either!) @lunewove @0fbabylon @stygicniron @faithsine

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“And God looked the other way”

@/avainblue // antigone, sophocles // @/sinfulscrapbook // unknown // it is right to draw their fur, dave eggers // day after tomorrow - phoebe bridgers // unknown // sun bleached flies - ethel cain // tonight I’m someone else, chelsea hodson // the war of vaslav nijinsky, frank bidart

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【𐕣】  ▒   𓆙  ⦊  @singofus ⧼  hypatia  !!  ⧽:                     tan  hands  cup  rosalie's  face  firmly,  dark  brown  eyes  staring  into  hers,  as  if  analysing  her  very  soul.  “promise  me,  and  this  island,  that  you  will  never  be  anything  but  yourself  here.  this  island  liberation  itself.  you  will  be  loved  for  who  you  are.  i  ask  this  of  everyone,  and  you  should  ask  it  of  other  followers  of  our  lady.”

rosalie  looks  up  into  the  dark  eyes  of  her  fellow  maenad  ,  well  aware  of  the  status  hypatia  holds  on  naxos  .  the  high  priestess  of  their  lord  ,  come  to  extract  an  oath  from  her  .  she  cannot  imagine  this  to  be  a  light  thing  ,  even  if  it  is  given  to  everyone  –  that  only  underlines  its  importance  ,  for  rosalie  . 

this  promise  is  to  trust  that  she  will  be  loved  for  who  she  is  ,  for  what  she  does  .  that  she  may  fully  and  truly  be  herself  here  ,  monster  and  all  . 

she  blinks  ,  pupils  widening  as  she  focuses  on  the  woman  right  in  front  of  her  .  with  her  head  held  in  hypatia's  hands  ,  she  nods  as  much  as  she  is  able  to  ,  before  speaking  . 

❝  i  swear  it  .  from  shores  to  soul  ,  and  all  in  between  .  ❞  surely  hypatia  can  see  just  how  much  rosalie  means  it  ,  how  much  she  craves  this  belonging  . 

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Effortless Elegance: Mariacarla Boscono Captured by Juergen Teller for Paradis Magazine, Summer 2008

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the  gratitude  toward  her  lady  is  the  most  obvious  of  instructions  .  but  the  introduction  of  this  new  being  –  a  male  ,  with  a  curious  name  –  has  her  furrowing  her  brows  in  concentration  .  she  will  not  kill  any  animal  ,  that  she  understands  .  but  she  has  no  coin  ,  and  she  hopes  rain  water  would  suffice  .  she  does  not  wish  to  show  disrespect  .

❝  i  shall  do  as  you  ask  ,  my  lady  ,  ❞  she  murmurs  ,  already  thinking  of  where  she  could  find  something  beyond  water  .  a  being  associated  with  her  lady  should  have  only  the  best  .  perhaps  there  would  be  a  hive  along  the  way  .

she  pauses  ,  a  memory  coming  to  her  .  the  altar  to  her  lady  ,  and  the  offering  there  .  the  clothing  –  perhaps  a  coin  purse  she  had  overlooked  ,  perhaps  money  was  still  to  be  found  .  but  offering  a  dead  man's  money  to  this  being  ...  would  he  be  upset  ?

❝  my  lady  ,  if  i  may  ask  ...  does  death  offend  your  hermes  ?  ❞  she  knows  not  the  honorific  to  include  ,  and  so  she  will  simply  attribute  him  to  her  lady  .  surely  that  is  honor  enough  .

Hearing that gasp sent shivers down Ariadne's spine. Of course she had felt prayers before and been sent devotion and praise, but to hear it from her own creation after all of this time without it beyond a small group...it hit her intensely. Though she didn't show it outwardly, knowing there was some mystery to remain. There was every chance that this god-to-worshipper relationship would be over in some weeks. And everything had become more distanced lately, for everyone.

A nod comes at Rosalie's acceptance and endeavour to look after herself.

Ask of a sign had her smile softly, picturing exactly the right kind.

"I will send two grass snakes, with unusual red lines down their backs, you will follow them to a barn and thank both myself and a being called Hermes when you have settled. He will take an offering of water or honey or oil or coin. Do not kill any animal that remains in the barn or bring me offerings within it, it is a temporary space." She made her instructions clear, she knew who to ask but she knew the true owner of the barn would be kept unaware. Best to make it easy for Hermes to make it so.

"If you wish to speak to me in this space, I will listen - though I may not speak as I can here." She could not promise a return to dreams, it was an endeavour and at the whim of Hypnos, he could be fickle.

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𓆙〖  @intothewildsea  〗𓆙

the  little  herbalist  shop  sits  at  the  very  edge  of  the  main  cobblestone  avenue  containing  bakeries  ,  bookstores  ,  tailors  shops  ,  and  more  .  the  distillery  is  the  closest  neighbor  ,  the  massive  wheel  outside  of  it  spinning  lazily  from  the  river  that  slithers  past  ,  behind  the  row  of  buildings  perched  on  the  sudden  drop  off  .  in  warmer  weather  ,  flowers  would  fill  the  window  boxes  of  the  dark  painted  store  ;  now  ,  they  lay  barren  .

oil  lanterns  softly  glow  inside  ,  painting  the  wooden  walls  with  thick  buttery  light  ,  illuminating  the  jars  of  various  plant  materials  all  along  the  shelves  . 

it's  a  cold  spring  –  just  warm  enough  that  the  river  has  thawed  ,  but  not  quite  warm  enough  to  negate  the  need  for  furs  .  rosalie  herself  keeps  the  fire  roaring  in  her  shop  ,  enjoying  the  warmth  of  her  upstairs  lodgings  when  she  does  so  . 

now  ,  just  after  sunset  ,  the  shop  remains  unlocked  for�� anyone  who  needs  it  ,  though  she  has  begun  inventory  .  a  familiar  task  from  her  cloistered  lifetime  ;  one  she  finds  great  joy  and  satisfaction  in  . 

her  tea  sits  beside  her  ,  more  for  the  warmth  and  relative  light  flavor  than  any  actual  medicinal  properties  ,  as  the  city  further  east  comes  to  life  . 

all  the  nobles  clamoring  for  the  attention  of  the  recently  married  lord  ,  seeking  to  get  on  his  good  side  to  tie  their  families  together  ,  when  heirs  are  produced  .  rosalie's  seen  it  all  before  . 

none  of  it  intrigues  her  ,  but  it  does  interest  her  .  how  the  same  story  is  told  over  and  over  again  ,  in  different  languages  ,  in  different  tones  .  how  this  one  would  end  ,  she  couldn't  begin  to  guess  . 

the  door  opens  ,  letting  in  the  cool  night  air  .  rosalie  reaches  for  her  tea  ,  settling  her  fingers  around  the  delicate  teacup  . 

❝  welcome  to  rosalie's  remedies  ;  what  brings  you  in  this  evening  ?  ❞  the  standard  greeting  ,  as  she  tears  her  gaze  from  the  ledger  before  her  ,  now  taking  in  the  visitor   .

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i am holding rosalie up like rafiki holds up baby simba and opening this here plotting call . i have discord as well as tumblr messenger , whichever works best for you . i will be in and out all day but give this a like and i'll reach out ♡

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i am holding rosalie up like rafiki holds up baby simba and opening this here plotting call . i have discord as well as tumblr messenger , whichever works best for you . i will be in and out all day but give this a like and i'll reach out ♡

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the  recognition  and  acceptance  of  her  devotional  acts  –  of  her  hard  won  trophy  –  sends  tears  prickling  to  rosalie's  eyes  .  the  praise  is  enough  to  steal  her  breath  ,  her  head  swimming  with  it  .  and  just  as  she  is  driven  to  breathlessness  from  praise  ,  so  too  is  she  by  the  fact  that  her  lady  is  honored  by  her  own  devotion  .

she  has  never  felt  such  direct  communication  before  .  she  has  never  felt  so  witnessed  before  .  only  in  her  prayers  had  she  dared  to  hope  for  acknowledgment  ,  and  never  to  this  scale  .

the  concern  comes  ,  and  with  it  ,  the  immediate  reactionary  desire  to  reassure  .

she  wishes  to  articulate  that  she  has  found  a  suitable  hiding  place  ,  that  she  is  plenty  warm  here  ,  even  in  the  rain  .  that  she  can  still  only  barely  stomach  fires  ,  even  of  the  most  domesticated  kind  .  that  she  finds  renewal  in  the  baptism  of  wild  ,  pledging  herself  into  this  gifted  life  .

but  many  years  alone  has  taught  her  to  think  before  she  must  speak  .  even  in  this  dreamy  world  ,  she  finds  herself  listening  to  this  instinct  .  her  tongue  pauses  ,  heavy  as  she  feels  the  gaze  of  her  lady  upon  her  ,  even  without  lifting  her  head  .

(  such  words  may  be  seen  as  rejecting  her  lady's  wishes  .  she  should  not  say  them  .  )

❝  thank  you  ,  my  lady  .  as  soon  as  i  wake  ,  i  shall  follow  .  ❞  she  will  not  leave  an  instruction  from  her  goddess  unfollowed  ,  a  connection  unembraced  .  this  is  the  first  contact  in  centuries  –  she  must  follow  through  .

❝  what  sign  should  i  search  for  ?  how  will  i  know  where  i  must  go  ?  ❞

She is recognised and Ariadne herself closes her eyes in relief. It feels like she is doing this all wrong, being a goddess of a disciple like this. Nowadays perhaps she shouldn't even appear to her at all, let alone as an image of the most vulnerable day of her life - but is what she had pictured when seeing Rosalie crying out on her day of death.

The talk of the devotional acts, of which Ariadne once had hope could have maintained her energy. Raised faith again. It was not enough, but clearly not out of fault of this one's attempts.

"So I have seen. It is beautiful. You have done well, and for so long. You waited all this time for me... I am honoured." She wanted to ask if the creature was angry with her, but perhaps it was not best to remind them that it was an option. Her husband's words rang through her head, talk that she deserved her, to revel in the worship. Worship that is truly all hers. Her dark eyes still gaze out at the rippling waters ahead of her, greyed by the mists here. It was all mist beyond this, from which seemingly anything could be created. Beautiful and beyond logic.

Her head turns slightly to the side now as she speaks, glancing back at the woman who bowed to her. How beautiful she was, human and yet still Ariadne spied the serpentine details to her face - those eyes.

"I have still yet to think of your third task, but I will. And soon. For now, I only wish that you find somewhere warm and safe. You must be so cold in that bear den, it concerns me. I will guide you." She would have Hermes arrange a little something perhaps. Scout out something. Even a barn.