machaera

[machaera]

asoiaf: sword of storms starters

❝ why would the stars want to look down on one such as me? ❞ ❝ sometimes i think everyone is just pretending to be brave, and none of us really are. maybe pretending is how you get brave. ❞ ❝ come, curse me or kiss me or call me a liar. something. ❞ ❝ some battles are not won with swords and spears, others with quills and ravens. ❞ ❝ old stories are like old friends. you have to visit them from time to time. ❞ ❝ still, night falls for all of us in the end, and too soon for some. ❞ ❝ and i tell you truly, there is no man in all the world who will ever be half so true to you as me. ❞ ❝ there are fights no swords can win. ❞ ❝ nothing will happen to you. nothing. i could not stand it. ❞ ❝ in such troubled times, it is hard to know friend from foe. ❞ ❝ you hide behind courtesy as if it were a castle wall. ❞ ❝ why do i enrage you so? i’ve never done you harm that i know of. ❞ ❝ it seems to me that a ruler who trusts no one is as foolish as a ruler who trusts everyone. ❞ ❝ love’s not always wise, i’ve learned. it can lead us to great folly, but we follow our hearts…wherever they take us. ❞ ❝ only lies offend me, never honest counsel. ❞ ❝ it was never my wish to sow enmity between us. ❞ ❝ best you were taken to your bed for a long resting, until you are stronger. ❞ ❝ even brave men blind themselves sometimes, when they are afraid to see. ❞ ❝ no harm will come to you, you have my word on that. ❞ ❝ the worst is behind us. don’t be frightened. ❞ ❝ silence. have you forgotten who i am? ❞ ❝ there is something we must speak of. will you walk with me? ❞ ❝ you shall rise again, i am sure. a man like you. ❞ ❝ i am not a cruel man. you know me. ❞ ❝ the world grows a little darker every day. ❞ ❝ i have need of good counsel, and you never gave me less. ❞ ❝ you are a treacherous old rogue, but a good friend all the same. ❞ ❝ madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. ❞ ❝ if you love me all so much, why are you still dressed? ❞ ❝ you’re mine. mine, as i’m yours. ❞ ❝ wars need not be fought until the last drop of blood. ❞ ❝ one voice may speak you false, but in many there is always truth to be found. ❞ ❝ when it comes to battle, discipline beats valour every time. ❞ ❝ sometimes the best thing you can do is nothing. ❞ ❝ it is too late for ifs, and too late for rescues. all that remains is vengeance. ❞ ❝ only blood can pay for blood. ❞ ❝ why do you hesitate? kill him, and be done. ❞ ❝ i will fall into those eyes and drown. ❞ ❝ harsh justice is still justice. ❞ ❝ i am cleverer than most, surely wits count for something. ❞ ❝ there’s a storm coming. a bad one. ❞ ❝ men will read all sorts of things into a knowing smile if you let them. ❞ ❝ the greatest fools are ofttimes more clever than the men who laugh at them. ❞ ❝ all these kings would do a deal better if they would put down their swords and listen to their mothers. ❞ ❝ you were made to be kissed, often and well. ❞ ❝ i walk alone with no true companion but tears. ❞ ❝ there is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs. ❞ ❝ there are fights no swords can win. ❞ ❝ here you are my guest, and safe from harm at my hands…this night, at least. ❞ ❝ i love the smell of you. i love your hair. i love your mouth, and the way you kiss me. ❞ ❝ i am alive, and drunk on sunlight. ❞ ❝ we look up at the same stars and see such different things. ❞ ❝ let them kill me. so long as i die fighting, a blade in hand. ❞ ❝ they are still behind us. they are taking us one by one. ❞ ❝ cry if you must. in your place, i would likely rip my hair out. ❞ ❝ would you wake me, please? i’m having this terrible nightmare. ❞ ❝ i know what it is like to love so greatly you can think of nothing else. ❞ ❝ if truth be told, i’m bored with your company. ❞ ❝ i am tired of fighting you. what say we make a truce? ❞ ❝ no man grows rich by kindness. ❞ ❝ it is well you did not lie to me. i would have known. ❞ ❝ the blood of my enemies i will shed gladly. the blood of innocents is another matter. ❞ ❝ i do not know who you are, and it may be that’s for the best. someone important, i fear. ❞ ❝ is every word you say a lie? ❞ ❝ why should i tell you my name? you haven’t told me yours. ❞ ❝ you are weak as a child, and no warrior. ❞ ❝ if i look back i am lost. ❞ ❝ if you lie to me, i will have your tongue. ❞ ❝ you’ve grown more amusing since last we met. ❞ ❝ i wonder if i might have a few private words? ❞ ❝ i dreamed a dream, no more. go back to sleep. ❞ ❝ this is a bad place, is it not? a dark place, and foul. ❞ ❝ i did not intend to give offence. forgive me. ❞ ❝ you have never feared to speak the truth, why do you lie to yourself? ❞ ❝ the music’s still playing. might i have this dance? ❞ ❝ your eyes give the lie to your tongue. ❞ ❝ let me go now. for our friendship, wish me luck and let me go ❞ ❝ a wise man never makes an enemy of a king. ❞ ❝ this must be our last time together. the danger is too great. ❞ ❝ some day try thinking before you speak. ❞ ❝ i have a dragon’s temper, that’s all. you must not let it frighten you. ❞ ❝ you must not be saying such things, even in jest. ❞ ❝ what we want is not always what we get. ❞ ❝ put up that sword now, unless you want to be hurt. ❞ ❝ sometimes a man knows more than he says. ❞ ❝ when i don’t fancy a man’s eyes, i put an arrow through one. ❞ ❝ my heart is full of doubts. ❞ ❝ in times like this, we must make do as best we can. ❞ ❝ i never dreamed how quick the sweet would turn to sour. ❞ ❝ my skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. ❞ ❝ the stink of death is fresh on you. ❞ ❝ you have repaid betrayal with betrayal, let it end. ❞ ❝ the higher the man climbs the farther he has to fall. ❞ ❝ i was hoping one look at this sweet face of mine would be enough to persuade you all of my innocence. ❞ ❝ after all the storms we’ve suffered, you should trust me better. ❞ ❝ you can kill your enemies, but can you rule your friends? ❞ ❝ could there be honor in a lie, if it were told for a good purpose? ❞ ❝ i am the monster they all say i am. ❞ ❝ pray excuse me, i need to hit someone very hard with a sword. ❞ ❝ you did your best to kill me. perhaps i ought to return the favor. ❞ ❝ you do, don’t you? you take me for a fool. ❞ ❝ we’re all just songs in the end, if we’re lucky. ❞ ❝ there is a long league’s worth of difference between wilful and stupid. ❞ ❝ you…a man like you brings blood with him. ❞ ❝ when did i make so many enemies? ❞ ❝ i must be strong. if i despair, my grief will consume me. ❞ ❝ give me sweet lies, and keep your bitter truths. ❞ ❝ i know what it is to be betrayed by men you trusted. ❞ ❝ all my victories turn to dross in my hands. ❞ ❝ it is a pleasure to look on you again, even in such trying times. ❞ ❝ are you scared? have you lost your belly for fighting? ❞ ❝ you were so long, i feared something had gone amiss. ❞ ❝ any man who must say ‘i am king’ is no true king at all. ❞ ❝ always keep your foes confused. if they are never certain who you are or what you want, they cannot know what you are like to do next. ❞ ❝ small men curse what they cannot understand. ❞ ❝ if you’re lying to me again, you won’t be leaving here alive. ❞ ❝ it all goes back and back to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. we are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us. ❞ ❝ when you know what a man wants you know who he is, and how to move him. ❞ ❝ a pure world. i do not belong here. ❞ ❝ you make me sorry that i am not the monster you would have me be. ❞ ❝ i crossed a thousand leagues to come to you, and lost the best part of me along the way. don’t tell me to leave. ❞ ❝ my big mouth will be the death of me, i swear it. ❞ ❝ we have suffered much, and there is more peril and more grief ahead. ❞ ❝ i…i suppose i earned that. ❞ ❝ begging for help never gets you any. ❞ ❝ you’re not made to lie. you blush and squeak and stammer. ❞ ❝ one day you must tell me all. the good and the bad. ❞ ❝ and there is stands, miserable as it is. my ancestral home. ❞ ❝ whatever i do, all i make is death and horror. ❞ ❝ it is safer to walk in darkness here. there are things you would not wish to see. ❞ ❝ you have a certain cunning, but the plain truth is you talk too much. ❞ ❝ that might have hurt me once, when i still felt pain. ❞ ❝ we will fight a battle, and then we will rest. alive or dead, we’ll rest. ❞ ❝ every man must die. but first he must live. ❞ ❝ all night i have been making songs for you in my head. ❞ ❝ my blood, my body, my songs, you own them all. ❞ ❝ if you lie i’ll punch your face. ❞ ❝ what a fight that was, and what a foe. ❞ ❝ be quiet. i will tell you when you can speak. ❞ ❝ forgive me. you have to forgive me. ❞ ❝ never lie to me. never betray me. ❞ ❝ there are two sorts of people. the players and the pieces. ❞ ❝ the only thing i value less than my life right now is yours. ❞ ❝ perhaps i should leave you here to rot if you’re going to be so discourteous. ❞ ❝ i hadn’t forgotten, though i hoped you had. ❞ ❝ i can still bite and kick. i’ll die with the taste of blood in my mouth, that’s something. ❞ ❝ you bray like an ass, and make no more sense. ❞ ❝ you do not belong here. this is not your place. ❞ ❝ i’m not going back to sleep. my head is all a tumult. ❞ ❝ some doors are best left closed. ❞ ❝ it does not matter how brave or brilliant a man is, if his commands cannot be heard. ❞ ❝ a man who fears battle wins no victories. ❞ ❝ you’re not half bad with a sword, but you’re not good enough to take on two hundred men by yourself. ❞ ❝ that is a good color on you. it goes well with your eyes. ❞ ❝ if blood is what you wish, then let it flow. ❞ ❝ i liked you well enough…but i never trusted you. a man needs to earn my trust. ❞ ❝ it is good to see you know who i am. ❞ ❝ i have told you no lies. yet there have been truths i have withheld. ❞ ❝ pardon me if i do not weep for you. ❞ ❝ you’ll find nothing here but death. ❞ ❝ don’t…don’t talk like this. you’re scaring me. ❞ ❝ you must be very brave or very stupid. ❞ ❝ i gave you the truth. you owe me the same. ❞ ❝ that loose tongue of yours will be your undoing. ❞ ❝ i must have fire in my eyes when i face them, not tears. ❞ ❝ it will take more than an arrow to kill you. ❞ ❝ the sound’s inside, it’s in here with us, and it’s getting louder. ❞ ❝ see? we know each other too well. ❞ ❝ you meddle in matters you do not understand. ❞ ❝ i have no luck. i have never had any bloody luck. ❞ ❝ do all gods feel so lonely? ❞ ❝ you are strangely quiet. how do you feel, i wonder? ❞ ❝ stop trying to think up ways to kill me. none of it will do you any bit of good. ❞ ❝ all you need to do is take my hand, come on. ❞ ❝ we’re together, just as you’ve always wanted, just as we’ve always planned. ❞ ❝ wars are won with quills and ravens. ❞ ❝ if only i had my sword, nothing could harm me. ❞ ❝ a valiant deed unsung is no less valiant. ❞ ❝ there are wolves in these woods, and worse things. ❞ ❝ say nothing of what we’ve discussed here today. to anyone. ❞ ❝ you’d best go. you’re making me angry. ❞ ❝ fear cuts deeper than swords. ❞ ❝ an ill-omened name. i have asked you not to use it. ❞ ❝ you cannot hide from me. come closer, now. ❞ ❝ there’s no cause for all these tears. ❞ ❝ it is good that you have woken, but you must give yourself time to heal. ❞ ❝ there is no honor in hiding and sneaking. ❞ ❝ come with me. we have to get away from here, and now. ❞ ❝ kings are falling like leaves this autumn. ❞ ❝ you don’t know half as much as you think you do. ❞ ❝ you seem so sombre. is aught amiss? ❞

[machaera]

if i largely cleared my inbox / reblogged a new meme what then...

[machaera]

                                        𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐓 𝐔𝐏 the hand-painted firmament of alucard's room,    scintillating as if they had plucked the stars from the sky       &       wreathed into an electric orchard on the domed ceiling while pale moonlight streamed in from the windows inundating the dusty perimeters.    to where he was sat at the small table in his room.    an exsiccated leather book,    thinly bound with web,    lay cracked to the left of him with pen in hand       &       no writing found.    it tapped lightly,    sporadically,    against the cedarwood.    it was not until he sank back in his chair with a sigh,    a hand pushing back the long golden strands of hair from his face,    that he surprises to hear his mother's voice call for him.       &       given the implementation of his full name,    he was either in trouble,    or she had been there for quite the while without him taking notice — possibly both,    as he could not remember her even entering his room.

                                        the young man instantly straightens up with a shake of his head,    his malaise slipping off him like running water.       ❛    did you knock —— - ?    ❜       the words started without thought,    only for him to realize the potential rudeness as he spoke.    he cleared the disuse from his throat       &       shook his head,    pulling himself present.       ❛    sorry,    ❜       he tried again,    more clearly this time.    he set down the pen       &       stood without ceremony,    not fully shed of adolescent clumsiness as his hip caught against the table.       ❛    i didn't see you come in.    ❜

her hands do not unfurl from their clasp, propped atop the waist-high table. their blonde hair was swept across their temple. she looked composed and ready to relay some prognosis to a waiting patient. doctor of many. mother to one.

“ adrian fahrenheit țepeș. ” her voice insists. by this time she will have called to him more than twice. the young man appeared stuck behind his thoughts. it wasn't enough cause for worry, but she was approaching that point.

@machaera for adrian.

[machaera]

i fully intend to get back to my asks but my focus will first be on getting through things i currently have in my drafts & responding to DMs / IMs i have left unanswered <3 i will be rather slow but working my way about

[machaera]

Marjane Satrapi, Persepolis

[machaera]

“I feel as if I were rising from a grave,”

— Sylvia Plath, from a diary entry wr. c. April 1963 featured in “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[machaera]

                                        𝐔𝐏 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐒 from the horizon.      fugitives of a great 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 from the world's end cutting through the skyline like rusted blades raised of an ancient order,      pilgrims of Anareta come to reclaim their home again chasing the night's vestige from the round dais of the earth,      the last few stars falling from the firmament of this changeling land.           ❛      what a heavy conscience you hold,      accusing a traveler of such nonsense.      ❜

                                        surrounded they were in this corrugated cerrado.      he,      a visitor with no reverence for its king.     whose name left a taste pungent with phlegm on his tongue. the sand which lay blue in moonlight steadily sunbleached ecru,      silver tresses sluggishly goldening.      the wind blew his hair around his face,      chiffons of fine dust spindling around their feet in glittering vortexes,      stabilizing,      unraveling again.      he withdraws his hand from his cape,      pulling the pale strands from his visage,      tucking them behind his ear.           ❛      i'm only passing through.      so if you'll excuse me . . .      ❜

｡ﾟﾟ ▲ . 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 & 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 . ᵃ ˢˡᶦᵐ ʳᵘᵈᵈʸ ᵍᵃˢʰ 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘴 ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵏʸˢᶦˡˡ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᵛᶦᵛᶦᵈ 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗼𝗻 ʷᵉˡˡᶦⁿᵍ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵃ ᶠʳᵉˢʰ ᶦⁿᶜᶦˢᶦᵒⁿ , ᵗᶦⁿˢᵉˡˡᶦⁿᵍ ᵒᵃˢᶦˢ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳˢ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᶠᵒˡᵈᵉᵈ 𝐫𝐞𝐝 upon 𝐫𝐞𝐝 . ᵗʰᵉ ˡᶦᵍʰᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃʳᵉᶜᵃᶜᵉᵃᵉ ᶠᵘˡˡ ᵒᶠ 𝑓𝑟𝑒���𝑧𝑦 & 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑒 , ᶠʳᵒⁿᵈˢ ᵗʳᵉᵐᵇˡᶦⁿᵍ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ⁿᵉᵒⁿᵃᵗᵃˡ fawns . ❝ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵃˢˢᵘᵐᵉ ᶦ haven't ᵗᵃᵏᵉⁿ ⁿᵒᵗᶦᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ˡᵘʳᵏᶦⁿᵍ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ 𝑴𝒀 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 . ❞

ᵈᶦᵍᶦᵗˢ ᵉⁿᵛᶦʳᵒⁿᶦⁿᵍ a 𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕥 , ᵈᶦᵃᵇˡᵉʳᶦᵉ ᶦᵗᶜʰᶦⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᶠᶦⁿᵍᵉʳᵗᶦᵖˢ . ᵛᶦᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵐˢ ᵇᵉᵗʷᵉᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉᵐ , 𝘂𝗻𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗱 / ᵗᵉⁿˢᶦᵒⁿ 𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘦 & 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᵃ ᶜᵘᵐᵘˡᵒⁿᶦᵐᵇᵘˢ ᵍʳᵃᵛᶦᵈ ʷᶦᵗʰ 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐠𝐞𝐬 , ᵗʰʳᵉᵃᵗᵉⁿᶦⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ 𝙱𝚄𝚁𝚂𝚃 . ❝ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦 𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑜 ? kill ʷʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵈᵉᵉᵐ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ‘ 𝒖𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒑𝒆𝒓 ’ ? ᶦ'ᵐ ᵃᶠʳᵃᶦᵈ ʸᵒᵘ’ˡˡ ᵇᵉ 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 . ❞

[machaera]

❝ i don't wanna hear another word out of your mouth. ❞

｡ﾟﾟ ▲ . 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 / 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓'𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄 , 𝐃𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐒𝐏 . 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 ᶦⁿ ᶜʳᶦᵐˢᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ᵃ ᶜʳᵉˢᶜᵉⁿᵗ ʷᵃᵈᵉˢ , ˢᵃⁿᵍᵘᶦⁿᵉ ⁻ ˢᵒᵃᵏᵉᵈ , ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᵃⁿ ᶦᵐᵇʳᵘᵉᵈ ᵍᵒⁿᵈᵒˡᵃ , ᵃ ᶜʳᵘᵒʳ - ᶜᵒᵃᵗᵉᵈ ˢᶜʸᵗʰᵉ , a 𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑔𝘩𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑠 sneer . ᶜᵘᵐᵘˡᵒⁿᶦᵐᵇᵘˢ ˢᵃᵘⁿᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵏʸ ˢᵃᵗᵘʳⁿᶦⁿᵉ & ᵇᵘˡᵇᵒᵘˢ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ 𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘆 ᵒᶠ ᵃ 𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 , ˡᶦᵐⁿᵉᵈ ᵒᶜᶜᵃˢᶦᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᵇʸ ⁿᶦᵗᶦᵈ ʳᶦᵛᵘˡᵉᵗˢ ᵒᶠ 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 & ᵗʰᵉᶦʳ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿ 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 ˢᵗʳᵒᵇᵉˢ . ❝ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵃᵗ , ᶦᵗ ˢᵉᵉᵐˢ , ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ finally ʳᵉᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ an 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 . ❞

ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵇʳᵘᵖᵗ ᵍᵘᵗᵗᵘʳᵃˡˢ ᵒᶠ 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞 , ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵏˢ ᵒᶠ 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 . ʰᵉ ˢᵐᶦˡᵉˢ & ᶦᵗ’ˢ ʷᶦᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ a mote ᵒᶠ ᵃᵐᶦᵃᵇᶦˡᶦᵗʸ , ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕 & 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠 ᶦⁿ ᶦᵗˢ ᶜʳᵒᵒᵏᶦⁿᵍ , ᵃ ᵍˡᶦˢᵗᵉʳ ᵒᶠ 𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗻 . ❝ ʷʰʸ ˢᵖᵉᵃᵏ ʷᶦᵗʰ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤 ʷʰᵉⁿ ʷᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵈᵒ ˢᵒ ᵉᵃˢᶦˡʸ 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 ? ❞

[machaera]

.

[machaera]

                                        𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐆 — telescope of the gods to the world dimmed in a cold glaucoma,      coronas rippling in the spring's surface phenomena,      periodic dimples in which lay trapped licks of silt           &           spangles of silvery motes.      the grass creaks under his boots as he circles the well with a listless stride,      the steam steadily percolating his cape           &           dampening the ends of his hair,      strands clinging like 𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚕 to his cheek.      he watches the shapeless shadow deep in the water, a blot of ink briefly gaining a serpentine solidity before dispersing again.      save for two acerate eyes blinking up at him in that dark liquid shape.      he does not intend to disturb them,      averts his gaze as if he has not taken notice.

                                        he finds a rock           &           sits by the water, drawing his sword to his lap with whetstone in hand.      a soft,      metallic whirring stirs from the repeated motion, dragging the stone across the blade with mindless familiarity.

𝕾𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖎𝖘 𝖇𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖜𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗 . atop it's dappled ripple , a wake does stir , skirting shyly from whatever bulk doeth roll in the black . the steam that roils and plays just above the glitter feints , the bubbling water churning over itself in a hushed murmur , a nervous burbling perhaps indistinguishable from the natural bubbling clustered in the here and there to blemish the hot spring's waters , the great stone banks . it feels good in here , this warm , earthen womb . she is almost weightless , the ancient bulk of herself a yoke eased from off the echelons of her sable - d bones in the carbonated pools of the north . she never goes this far from the wyr thicket . but the game here is bigger , the herds more vast ; the lands vaster . ozgog must share the shoals of the sea . here , her fill is plentiful . the sleep , is sounder .

and yet despite this , still , there is a little life up there , just past the surface of her spring . ozgog's agitation swells .

@machaera // starter

[machaera]

Broken doll trend Alucard

[machaera]

“I rose from my corpse, went in search of who I am.”

— Alejandra Pizarnik, from The Roads of the Mirror: XV (tr. by Cecilia Rossi)

[machaera]

" it isn't too strong this time i promise. at least i hope it isn't. " a rather belated warning. but not so much to be considered an after thought. the spoon in her hand cradled a condensed milky liquid. still warm. ( from lisa c:

                                        𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐑           &           𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓.      moonlight decants in silver blades through the windows of the room,      trapped in them motes of dust which sifted           &           spun,      grains of sediment glittering in a spangled nimbus.      the sky outside is sprent with stars,      the only black trickling in tiny rivulets,      𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐞𝐝,      rejoined,      falling in cold arcs so that on the dais of the earth the castle looked among them           &           not under.      𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍,  the flames saw with a preternatural breeze,      warm reflections cast on the floor stretching like hands to the foot of the boy's bed.      he had tugged the blankets up to his face,      over his nose,      so only his eyes —      bright with suspicion           &           incandesced with the bloodbeat of the hearth —      are visible above the quilt.      weary           &           heavy - lidded,      his skin ragged warm with fever.

                                        ❛      𝚗𝚘.      ❜           the word is said with finality.      adrian shakes his head           &           absconds beneath the covers,      pulling them over his hair           &           turning his back to his mother,      a small bundle in his sea of blankets.      he sniffles from a runny nose,      throat akin to sandpaper as he coughs.           ❛      you said that last time,           &           the time before that time,      too.      ❜

[machaera]

❝ this will have consequences. ❞

｡ﾟﾟ 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐁𝐖𝐄𝐁𝐒 𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐒 & ᶜˡᵘˢᵗᵉʳ ᶦⁿᵗᵒ ᵍᵒˢˢᵃᵐᵉʳ ᵃʳʳᵃˢ . ˡᶦᶜᵏˢ ᵒᶠ ᶠˡᵃᵐᵉˢ flicker like pennons ᵃˢ ᵘᵐᵇʳᵃˢ ᶜᵃˢᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵗᶜʰᶦⁿᵍ 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗻 ᵘⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃˡˡˢ , ᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿˢ ᵃᵖᵖᵉᵃʳᶦⁿᵍ ᵃˢ frolicking silhouettes , ˡᵘʳᶜʰᶦⁿᵍ ˢᵖᵉᶜᵗʳᵉˢ , 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐬 . ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ’ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ˢᶜᵃᵐᵖᵉʳᶦⁿᵍ ʳᵃᵗᵗᵘˢ ˢᶜʳᶦᵗᶜʰᶦⁿᵍ ᵃᵐᵒⁿᵍ ˢᵃⁿᵈˢᵗᵒⁿᵉ , ᶜʳᵉᵖᶦᵗᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵒⁿᵉˢ , yūrei  & ᵗʰᵉᶦʳ ᵖᵃʳᵒˣʸᵐˢ ᵒᶠ 𝘂𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗴𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀 --- ᵇᵘᵗ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳʷᶦˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒˢˢᵘᵃʳʸ ᶦˢ ᵠᵘᶦᵉᵗ , & ˢʰᵉ ᵗʰᶦⁿᵏˢ ; ℎ𝑎𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑦 ˢᵒ . ❝ well , 𝘺𝘦𝘴 . ᶜᵒⁿˢᵉᵠᵘᵉⁿᶜᵉˢ ᵒᶜᶜᵘʳ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᵃᶜᵗᶦᵒⁿ --- ᵃᶜᵗᶦᵒⁿˢ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃˢ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗᵃˡᵏᶦⁿᵍ , 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 , ʰᵃᵛᶦⁿᵍ ᶠᵘⁿ . . . ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶦˢ ? having 𝙛𝙪𝙣 ? ❞

they are being 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 , ˢʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷˢ ; ᵘⁿˢᵉᵉⁿ ʷʳᵃᶦᵗʰˢ ᵇᵘᵒʸᵃⁿᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᵃ ʷᵒᵐᵇ . revenants ᶦⁿ ᶜᵃᵗᵃᶠᵃˡᵠᵘᵉˢ ᵖʳᵉᵖᵃʳᶦⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˡᵘⁿᵍᵉ . 𝚟𝚛𝚢𝚔𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚔𝚊𝚜 ʳᵒᵃᵐᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃᵇʸʳᶦⁿᵗʰᶦⁿᵉ ᶜᵒʳʳᶦᵈᵒʳˢ . ᵃʳᶜʰᵃᶦᶜ behemoths , ˢᵃⁿᵈ - ˢᵘᵇᵐᵉʳᵍᵉᵈ , ˢᵒᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵘʳᶠᵃᶜᵉ . ᵃ ˢᶦⁿᵍˡᵉ , ˢᶦᵐᵖˡᵉ commotion , & ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉᵐ , ˡᶦᵏᵉ 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲 - 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗰𝗸 ʰʸᵃᵉⁿᶦᵈᵃᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿ ᵒʳᵗ . [ * ʰᵉʳ ᵖᵃˡᵐ ᵐᵒᵗᶦᵒⁿˢ ᵘⁿᵗᵒ ᵃ ᶜᵒᶠᶠᶦⁿ’ˢ ʰᵉᶠᵗʸ ˡᶦᵈ , 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝚈 𝚃𝙾 𝙿𝚄𝚂𝙷 . ] ❝ i can 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 you , ᶦᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ˡᶦᵏᵉ . ❞

[machaera]

Francisco Goya, Boy Staring at an Apparition, ca. 1824-25

[machaera]

“How much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it’s some kind of murder?”

— Richard Siken, ‘Portrait of Fryderyk in Shifting Light’ (via bluebeardsbride)

[machaera]

❛ your face shows you unwell. ❜

  𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮 . . . 🖤

                                   𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 of the night when the drunk have washed on the lee of walls,      between sootblacked brick           &           cobble corriders where fourfooted shapes go to           &           fro —      to where the dead keep their metropolis,      labyrinth of mongrel architecture stamped by the casketmaker's trade           &           the fenceline of trees pale against the night,      past valleys of grass to where he has intruded upon the count's door with no horse nor carriage in his wake.

                                     the night is cool.      the moon is dimmed away by rags of fog           &           the stars beset by a cold glaucoma.      a light whir of rain soaks his hair,      the pale strands sticking like tinsel to his face.           ❛      forgive me —      my travels have left me weary           &           I have not found a town to spend the night.     ❜           though there is no luggage,      no personal belongings off his person.