indrikis

[indrikis]

ᶜ⊰ 𝔱𝔥𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔠𝔨𝟿 ⊱ᵓ

Bolesław Biegas (Polish, 1877–1954), Le Temple du Mystère de la grotte [The Cave of Mystery Temple], 1937. Oil on canvas.

via amare-habeo

[indrikis]

ᶜ⊰ 𝔴𝔱𝔵𝔠𝔥 ⊱ᵓ

Kay Nielsen (1886 - 1957)

“East Of The Sun And West Of The Moon”,1914

[indrikis]

🙡﴾ 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐡 ﴿🙣

            ❝ You’re really into this~ ❞ Desch couldn’t help the laugh that fell from his lips after he spoke. He never seen this side of Ingus before, even during the brief time he had traveled with the four. It was somehow refreshing to him and also reminded him that Ingus was still a kid (well kid to him considering how old Desch was himself).

    ❝ There isn’t a need to buy one, when I already have one on hand. ❞ Desch said as he had already planned on doing some crystal hunting to begin with. ❝ It rather convenient since I had already planned on it. ❞ he chuckled.

— ☩   “Planned—? Oh! That’s wonderful news, then, we can start straightaway! Unless, of course, you are otherwise preoccupied for the time being..?”

           Ingus beamed at Desch, a familiar glint twinkling in his eyes. It was a difference in a routine, an adventure almost, and Ingus was simply enamoured with the idea of breaking the monotone hum of his day-to-day wanderings.            “Please, lead the way!”

[indrikis]

i’m just.....vibing to terncliff’s music bc it’s so good

[indrikis]

ᶜ⊰ 𝔰𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔟𝔢𝟺𝔥𝔞𝔵𝔞𝔫 ⊱ᵓ

Bridge Over Chaos (1827 / Mezzotint) - John Martin 

[1927 Edition of Paradise Lost by Milton, published by Septimus Prowett, London; 2nd version on s4h]

[indrikis]

ᶜ⊰ 𝔴𝔱𝔵𝔠𝔥 ⊱ᵓ Kay Nielsen 

[indrikis]

🙡﴾ ? ﴿🙣

≾ .⋅ ✥ ⋅. ≿ ⸺ ⊰ ❝ You cannot go back to a past that is no more, it is but a possibility, a ceaseless reality unfitting to no more than a mere dream. To change history and mould the future to your heart’s desire.❞ he answered, indeed, aspects regarding the space-time continuum is baffling, oppressive as one wildly speculates on ever prodigious. unfathomable spheres of reality.  ❝ Well? Have you decided on what you wish to do? ❞

— ☩   “Well... Mayhap there is way to peer into the more...stable parts of the past without changing fate itself? If it is possible, of course. And—if doing so would not tire you overmuch.” Ingus shook his head, mind suddenly whirling with a myriad of ideas. “Would that be all right?”

[indrikis]

If your country told you to do something reprehensible, such as something involving robbing another kingdom, would you do it?

“No, of course not! That would be absurd—Sasune has enough riches as it is. Not that it matters as I’ve no standing affiliation with the kingdom anymore. I am certain that there are much and more avenues that are worth searching for profit.”

[indrikis]

ᶜ⊰ 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔢𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔰 ⊱ᵓ

Italian infantry armor ca. 1571 (x)

[indrikis]

🙡﴾ 𝐀𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐬 ﴿🙣

 A giggle slipped past her lips at the response as she nodded her understanding. She may appear to be in her element at present, butAgnès knew that she would be dusting sand off herself for a good while after leaving the dunes behind. Even now she could feel the telltale grit settle in her hair and burrow its way into the folds of her clothes. Sand was in short, a natural annoyance. “If it is any consolation, no one is truly fond of the sand, not even those born within the heart of the dunes.”

Her gaze focused ahead, to the village growing closer on the horizon as they wended through the smaller dunes. As much as Agnès wished to marvel at the towering airship chassis as they passed by, duty came first–especially with the fate of the world resting upon their shoulders. She only prayed that there would be another chance to witness this site once their duty was completed. 

The pair arrived at the gates, and the cacophony of civilization reached their ears. Hammers banging on wood and metal, and hot steam whistling from pipes and chutes; the sounds so loud that it drowned out the whistling of the harsh winds. Speaking of which, Agnès noticed how the harsh winds tapered significantly the closer they neared the heart of the village. The buildings must also serve as an artificial buffer against the unpredictable desert wind.

Good thing too. Agnès dusted herself off and straightened her hair as the pair walked, and felt the grit accumulate underneath her touch. There was residual sand left behind, of course, but she would endure the temporary discomfort if it meant reaching their shared goal for the future.

“Ser Takka…” She repeated, her attention moving to the far side of the village. Hope fluttered briefly in her heart, realizing that they were another step closer. From the sound of it, Ingus was well acquainted with the man, so there was a good chance he would hear them out through familiarity. Still…she didn’t wish to place all her hopes on assumption alone. 

“Are you sure he will not mind us borrowing his airship for this matter?” She then asked upon glancing to Ingus, apprehension weaving in her words and settling upon her countenance. “While I know it will be important to explain our reasons why, I don’t wish for him to think we are exaggerating our predicament. Especially since we do not have tangible proof to show in turn…”

— ☩   “After the wake of the flood, the business for aircraft sprang—in starry heights, mind. Ser Cid, the preeminent shipwain of the floating continent, lives just to the southwest. He often collaborates with the blacksmiths here, in Kazus—and the only reason why some airship parts are placed here, near the desert, is because the tiny town of Canaan could not host any more. Lest Bahamut catch these chassis in their territory and pluck them for twigs in their nest...”

           Ingus paused, shook his head, and crossed his arms.            “Erm. Sorry. I mean to say that there are many airships for use now, to our luck. I believe Ser Takka would not mind us borrowing one, on the assurance that we return the vessel in one piece. If he asks us what for...we can tell him that we need to go check on the crystals. Or mayhap that is too forthright? We could omit the details about the crystals for now, so as not to spark suspicion nor incite fear...”            Ingus unrolled the rest of his sleeves, looking towards the smithy.            “Come, we won’t be long.”

           After a short exchange of words, and with much hammering and clanking in between, Takka gave them the key to an airship—or keys more like, as there were an assortment of small and large ones hooped around the main ring.

           “We needn’t travel too far, the airship would be just beyond the gates of the village. Would you prefer to helm the ship, or shall I?”

[indrikis]

How would you describe your fighting style.

“I thought to say ‘evasive’—as I mislike engaging in fights—but I am...not adept in evading attacks. Or...oh, never mind. In truth, I find it unpleasant—the hurriedness of it all...”

“Ahem. I prefer to...tank the hardest hits, or at least lessen the impact of its blows for my friends. I find protecting and healing much less taxing than whittling away the enemy’s lifeblood.”

[indrikis]

ᶜ⊰ 𝔩𝔬𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 ⊱ᵓ

@knittingink’s archive

[indrikis]

ᶜ⊰ 𝔰𝔞𝔨𝔯𝔬𝔤𝔬𝔞𝔱 ⊱ᵓ

Adolf Hirémy-Hirschl - The Souls of Acheron (detail)

[indrikis]

ᶜ⊰ 𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 ⊱ᵓ

Woodland Landscape with a Chapel, 1850 by Barend Cornelis Koekkoek (Dutch, 1803–1862)

[indrikis]

ᶜ⊰ 𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔦 ⊱ᵓ

Edwin Deakin - 1884

[indrikis]

🙡﴾ 𝐀𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐬 ﴿🙣

Agnèssmiled upon giving a hum of agreement; a rare sight, but wholly genuine. Maybe the amount of preparation seen here went way above and beyond the usual level for a seasoned traveler. But it was better to be prepared for every possibility on the road than not. It was why  Agnèstook care to stock up on items whenever she could while she traveled with her friends, much to their chagrin. 

And should the pair be waylaid by monsters on their path? Well, both of them were capable mages; even as she stood beside Ingus, the young hero clad in the familiar white robes, Agnèsfelt the flow of magic swirl around him. Combined with her abilities, and the light of the wind crystal watching over both of them, they could hold their own should the need arise. 

A part of her prayed there would no need, but again, best to be prepared for every possibility.

Before long the pair set out on their destination. The soft, loamy detritus of the forest shifting to grainy gold sand beneath her feet; the cool breeze caressing her face and hair growing warmer with each step, and with it brought the arid dustiness reminiscent of her birthplace in Ancheim. As Agnès glanced ahead, she noticed the chassis of airships dotting the border of the approaching settlement, marking their nearness to Kazus. Some chassis as small as the Eschalot, while some were almost as big as the Grandship! Was this what truly went into constructing an airship? It was a sight to behold to look at the airships at various levels of completion.

“–ah, of course!” She perked up, his voice had pulled her out of her sightseeing. Oh, how embarrassing to be caught by surprise like that. “My apologies, I was distracted by the constructs of airships here. I’ve never seen so many in one place!” She then flashed an assuring smile to Ingus. “But rest assured, I will be careful in my steps. I’m rather used to the shifting sands. The sands here nearly remind me of home.”

— ☩   “Truly? How fortunate, then! I was never fond of the sand...” Ingus murmured, holding an arm across his mouth, and the other pulling down at his hood. In contrast, Agnès looked very much accustomed to their surroundings, smiling as if she had just been on an afternoon stroll.

           They wended through the smaller dunes, eventually arriving at the gates of the village. The sound of hammers and steam filled their ears, making the main smithy hard to miss. Ingus stopped midway, realizing that the harsh winds did not carry themselves all the way into the heart of the village.            “We look for Ser Takka—I believe he owns a spare airship we could use.”            Ingus shook the sand off of his robes, before finally letting his hood down, cheeks burning red with irritation. He pat his hand over his face, noting a slim sheen of sand now dotting his palm.            “His home is at the farthest point of the village, and I reckon he’d be stuck to his anvil, crafting new parts.”

[indrikis]

ᶜ⊰ 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔥𝔢𝔢𝔩𝔷𝟿𝟹 ⊱ᵓ

Edward John Poynter

A day dream, 1863 (Detalle)