safrona-shadowsun

[safrona-shadowsun]

there is a luxury in being quiet in the heart of chaos.

June 23, 1927 Virginia Woolf, “A Writer’s Diary” (1918 - 1941) originally published: 1953

[safrona-shadowsun]

((Prior to my show, Selysona and I did a tribute to an old friend, I'll post my words before the show: For those of you around 2020 and before, and familiar with the Tarts, you probably saw or met Migisia and Andjela, our resident power couple that were both a huge part of this guild. They were around pretty much just as long as I have been, officers of the Tarts for some time, and helped shape the guild into what it is today.  It’s with a heavy heart that I have to break the news that we lost Migisia recently. It was unexpected, and she was way too young. We have Andi's permission and blessing to speak of her here since both she and Migs were and will always be one of us. A rare tauren performer, she did a lot of shows with her animal companions and was always a crowd favorite for it. She adored performing and adored this guild, and she certainly left her mark on those of us who performed alongside her, myself included. Without her and Andjela, it's hard to say where this guild may have gone when some of the rest of us had to step away for a while. So raise a glass, or a handful of glitter - because she LOVED her glitter, I don't think there was one person free of glitter at ToA one year because of her. A dare *might* have been involved in seeing how much glitter she could use in a set time. Let's just say records were set that day! I'll be dedicating my Fire Fest performance tonight to her. So this is for you Migisia, my fellow Tart, my friend, may all your glitter light our way.))

LIFECYCLES

The performance space falls silent and a vast darkness spreads, obscuring all vision. Slowly, a constellation begins to form above, distant points of light awaken in red, green, yellow, and blue, suspended midair, faintly glowing, unmoving yet alive. There’s no pattern, no reason to their birth, only emergence. They shimmer softly, each light delicate and new as if becoming aware of the world around them.

Then, there’s movement. Dicenne steps into the space as if drawn out of the void itself, his form barely illuminated. A soft wisp of fire curls from the edge of the shield he carries, flickering with the same shifting colors as the stars above, echoes of a Stellar Nebula. His body moves in a wide, circular path, limbs carving slow arcs of colored flame through the air. Each motion feels exploratory, as though he's beginning to understand what it means to move and to exist. The fire mirrors this early wonder, neither aggressive nor fierce, but gentle and curious, licking curiously at the air around him.

Dicenne surges forward, gathering speed before launching into a powerful front aerial, his body arching through the air in a forward flip with no hands to ground him. He lands seamlessly, the momentum not breaking, but bending as he folds into a wide butterfly kick that sends him into a horizontal spin, suspended at times as if gravity has not fully claimed him yet. His body flows like the clouds of dust and gases of a newborn nebula, wandering, weightless, and wonderstruck. The embers trailing from his shield sketches fleeting patterns in the dark, momentary galaxies born and gone in an instant. 

Above him, the stars pulse and flicker, their soundless rhythms responding to his dance. Some blink into being only to fade just as quickly, their brief lifespans tacitly folding into the void. Others swell with light, burning steadily. A small cluster nearest to Dicenne glows with a subtle, steady beat, their presence quiet yet unwavering. His sword remains sheathed for now, unnecessary in this chapter of becoming. He is not a warrior yet. He is stardust, forming shape and wonder. A beginning.

The fire sharpens, no longer gentle, but focused and alive. A blue flame ignites along the edge of the shield, swelling brighter, and untamed, until it burns with purpose. In one fluid motion, he draws the sword and it erupts in luminous cerulean, casting a sudden flare of brilliance across the dark. At this instant, everything changes and he has become a Massive Star. Dicenne moves like a comet unbound, radiant and unstoppable, carving his path through the cosmos with the certainty of something that knows its power.

Dicenne's steps are bold now, each grounded and sure while the fire crackles with energy and conviction. He strikes outward with his blade, whirling it in wide, controlled swipes. The shield is no longer a passive thing, it slams against the ground in a thunderous rhythm, sending lustrous blue sparks scattering across the stage. The fire mirrors his heart, blazing and generous, too big to be contained.

His tall, athletic frame is on full, intoxicating display. Muscles roll and flex with every deliberate movement, bare skin glistens with sweat that catches the flickering blaze. Each twist and turn pulses with a placid, magnetic energy, his strength both commanding and fluid. The sheer physicality of him is mesmerizing, his mass not slowing him but fueling him. He throws himself into a back handspring, shield flaring wide with the impact, followed by a spinning leap that sends a fiery ring out across the stage’s edge.

There’s a raw, exhilarating heat in this moment, a pleasure that borders on almost sensual in the way he knows his own strength. Every twist of his hips, every sweep of his weapons, every exhale from his lips speaks of a man in full command of his body and his world. It’s a confidence that smolders beneath the surface, seductive and unyielding, pulling every gaze into its orbit. This is his apex, a blaze of brilliance, warmth, and irresistible gravity. The stars above him shimmer like a celebration, the ones closest glow brightest, pulsing in time with the music. He is alive, admired, and completely unaware of how fragile it all truly is.

The tempo shifts as the sword’s flame flickers with deeper, more complex hues, while the shield’s glow dims to a steady, somber crimson. Dicenne’s steps slow, not from fatigue, but from something far heavier - reflection, burden, and the weight of passing years. He moves now as a Red Supergiant, glowing with a constant, enduring scarlet light shaped by time.

He grows more still between movements now. Not weaker, he remains a pillar of heat and strength, but more solemn. The fire that trails him glows deeper now, burning a rich, smoldering blood red, and the motions take on a ritualistic quality as he returns to some of the steps from before, but now they are slower, laden with memory. The sword glides rather than strikes, the shield protects rather than slams.

He launches into a powerful front flip, twisting through the air with fierce grace. As he lands heavily, the impact sends a flare of molten fire bursting outward from his feet, scattering sparks in all directions. His chest lifts with slow, steady breaths. Muscles taut and defined shift beneath flesh slick with sweat, the firelight tracing over prominent tattoos and old battle scars. There’s a tranquil, heavy sorrow in him now. Each movement carries the heaviness of what has been lost, what once was shared, and what can never return.

Above, the stars change. Some vanish in silence. No drama, no warning, just absence. The stars nearest to him dim and two blink out at once. He falters, but he does not stop. He steadies, finds his stance again, and moves forward. The blade spins, slower now, but still burning. The shield guards, though its light is not what it was. There’s a kind of love in his persistence, a loyalty to motion, even when the fire grows harder to carry. It is not sadness that moves him, but endurance.

There’s a sudden silence beneath the music. His feet drag, the fire wavers, and the shield slips from his grasp. The Supernova begins. The collapse is quiet at first, he curls inward with the sword barely glowing in his hand. Shoulders rise to ears, knees buckle, and his breath hitches. It is not a scream nor is it a fight, but instead it is the moment before release. The whole of him pulls tight around something cracking inside.

And then, the light ERUPTS! He throws himself outward, body flung into space, arms stretched to the sky as an inferno explodes from his core and the ground around him in chaotic trails, an orchestration of light, color, and ash. Red, blue, gold, and violet glitter explodes in every direction, scattering like the remnants of a Supernova. In one frozen heartbeat, he appears suspended in the chaos, arms extended, face lifted to the heavens, ribbons of heat spiraling around the sword that hovers above him.

He rotates slowly in midair, limbs outstretched in every direction as if reaching for the whole of existence. Then, the shockwave hits. The stars above briefly flash a brilliant white before a cascade of multicolored glitter bursts from the heights of the theater. It rains down in every hue of the rainbow, swirling through beams of firelight, drifting like cosmic dust, and settling across the stage floor in a shimmering layer. 

Dicenne remains trapped in the breath between moments as the shockwave continues to ripple outward. The flames wrap around him in slow motion, kissing the cut of his muscles, sliding down the line of his throat, gilding sweat and skin in molten gold. Glitter still falls in thick, radiant sheets, clinging to his body and turning him into a silhouette of shifting color against the storm. The world blurs around the edges; sound, light, and time all stretching and expanding from the epicenter that is him. For this one, impossible point in time, he defies physics. He is starlight and collapse, he is the center of all things. Bare, burning, and utterly beautiful.

He lands hard on one knee, sword scorched, shield abandoned. Everything is quieter now, and he does not rise again. This is the end of the star and for a long moment, nothing follows but falling starlight and soft music winding down.

No rebirth, no resurrection, just the echo of something furious but fleeting. A life lived and a star gone, yet something remains. The stage seems to lean toward him, pulled by something unseen. He stays kneeling, unmoving, as the darkness around him thickens. Bit by bit, the air begins to pull inward. The glitter drifting above starts to fall in slow, deliberate arcs toward him, and the light bends with it. Subtle, steady, as if all things on the stage are being drawn to where he kneels, restful and waiting.

A pinpoint collapse, silent and infinite. At the center of it all, the shape of a man remains still and lingering, his presence anchoring something far greater than himself. A Black Hole. He doesn't move, he doesn’t have to, the world moves around him now. Time stretches thin, lights flicker out at the edge of the starscape, not with violence, but in surrender as if bowing to something they cannot fight. 

He is not empty, he is a monument. A final gravity, etched in fire and silence. The last breath of a star that could no longer burn, but would never be forgotten.

@succulent-tart @tartfirefest

[safrona-shadowsun]

As usual, the door of Curses & Curios stood open to the markets of Tiragarde Sound. Ozzie liked it that way. The day's brine and bustle of trade drifted in as the older Kul Tiran—more spindly than most—hunched over a small worktable near the entrance.

He was often alone, save for the company of an Ethereal who managed the shop’s more mysterious inventory in the cellar—its entryway marked with runes and barred by a length of rope. Though Ozzie hadn't seen him, the freshly scattered crates suggested Zevvix was working below.

The proprietress was away on fieldwork or some such. Still, should business require, a modest portal chamber tucked near the docks would ferry her back at a moment’s notice.

Engrossed in his tinkering, Ozzie had forgotten her mention of returning today. His usual eyepatch was shoved up over one brow, replaced with a mechanical spectacle that clicked softly as he adjusted the lens. He squinted through it, focused on a bit of scrap in his palm, hardly noticing the figure now waiting at the door. 

@safrona-shadowsun

+ @nixalegos for the introduction!

[safrona-shadowsun]

“People generally see what they look for, and hear what they listen for.”

— Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

[safrona-shadowsun]

Send 💿 for my muse to choose a song that matches your muse's vibe. - for Asharin

"You have this...particular sound to me. Something mystical but grounded. Playful, and also majestic. The new and old coming together. Something that doesn't really need words. I hope you like the sound."

{ @asharinhun <3 }

[safrona-shadowsun]

One Song, 100 Words

Spider and The Fly - London After Midnight

The Madam stood in the midst of the throws of messy passion, surrounded by a crowd filled to the brim with fidelity to the sins of their own desires. Her eyes were ever watchful, admonishing the grabby hands of patrons if they tried to reach for her when their partners swap out for new flesh -- Such a quiet warning that would be heeded; There was plenty of others eager to be devoured.

The Madam made the quiet effort to push through the crowd, aiming toward the stairs after the internal decision of forgoing further indulgence in her liquor for fear she'd be swept up in the chaos the longer she lingered on the main level. It was better to watch from above, poised atop her chaise and thriving in her own company than crowded by the musk of hot, sweaty noisy individuals with no spacial awareness.

@safrona-shadowsun

Final count: 146. Whoops.

[safrona-shadowsun]

💿 - Gin @drunkenworgen

Send 💿 for my muse to choose a song that matches your muse's vibe.

"Your name is 'Gin'?" The Courier smirked into this little discovery of a new voice. "You'll have to forgive me if my thoughts can only go to a classic flavor profile, and the classic sound in this song."

{ Here you go! Saf is only inspired by the name haha. @drunkenworgen! }

[safrona-shadowsun]

Do tell how @thefirstperished won fair lady. The good stuff.

"Fair lady....The 'good' stuff?" Safrona echoed to herself with the slow turn of an amused smile as the message blipped across the screen. It was rare to receive personal questions across the Consortium Trade Network, but this one charmed her by its phrasing.

In reflection, she noted how eager she was to speak of her Soulsinger than she used to be. There had been such a desire to protect him from her demon's interest in the beginning, to mask any sense of vulnerability in the draw. Unnatural as the bond had been built, it was sacred, and tender. Intimate in all the wrong ways that felt right. And as the years went by, that soulbond only became more pronounced, defying demons, gods, death, and maybe fate itself. Defying grievances, and sense. There was little needed to protect in the face of a union so formidable.

How did one begin to explain that undying desire for another soul? To not consume it, but let it flood her, and be stronger for it? How he had saved her from herself? How even haunted by death and removed from the Light, the man could be so full of grace? How purely he had enthralled her, how his voice alone could so acutely undo her? And how at the end of everything, the Black Orchid was all she wanted?

Safrona stared at the screen, bit softly into her lip as she felt The First of the Perished's attention swell on her - her thoughts had spiraled a little too deeply for him to go unnoticed.

"....I'm just trying to answer a damn question..." she chuckled at herself, at her beloved.

He is more than the First of the Perished to me. He is my Soulsinger. And it was a mutual offering that starts like all strong bonds do: in confidence and trust. Then, like some sacred Orchid defying life and death both, we bloomed into more. I feel...I am a temple he regularly worships, and he is the only soul I invite to do so. And I would not have it any other way.

[safrona-shadowsun]

💿

Send 💿 for my muse to choose a song that matches your muse's vibe.

"I think you have a very busy mind - respect, but I'd hate to be inside it. I think I remember you saying that you're fond of...goblin industrial? So let me give you a vinyl I think you'd like. It's a personal favorite. Definitely helps me to focus when I need to. Or relax. Either or."

{ @nixalegos - Hope you enjoy <3 }

[safrona-shadowsun]

https://pin.it/3j5pXcxZw

[safrona-shadowsun]

Baccarat Crystal Decanters, 18th century.

[safrona-shadowsun]

https://pin.it/6MadUZWpm

[safrona-shadowsun]

SUCCULENT TART'S FIRE FEST 2025!

Our annual Fire Festival is back! Come and join us for our Chillin & Grillin BBQ on Thursday, before the Festival opens on Friday & Saturday!

WHEN: Thursday, June 19th - Saturday, June 21st WHERE: Mar'at, Uldum !! THIS IS HOSTED ON WYRMREST ACCORD !!

ANCHORS: Alliance: Valoun-WyrmrestAccord Horde: Nahiilvi-WyrmrestAccord THURSDAY EVENT Begins at 6pm WrA/PT - 8pm MG): Chillin' & Grillin' BBQ social This is a laid-back 'calm before the fire storm' event, there will be NO vendors, performances, or raffles today, but there will be A LOT of food, drink, swimming, dancing, and general fun! BBQ provided, bring a side/dessert/drink to share!

FRIDAY EVENTS (Begins at 5pm WrA/PT - 7pm MG): Vendors, performances, raffles, Pride party, and camping!

SATURDAY EVENTS (Begins at 4pm WrA/PT - 6pm MG): Vendors, performances, raffles, fireworks, and the Heat Rave 'til the sun comes up! For more information, please check out our website: Fire Fest 2025 Or this tumblr: @tartfirefest You can find our Discord link on the sidebar for the Fire Fest tumblr!

[safrona-shadowsun]

Sidney Sheldon, "The Other Side of Midnight"

[safrona-shadowsun]

[safrona-shadowsun]

(A little back and forth transpired...)

"Chosen one..." Safrona repeated with a sting of sarcasm. "What, your Chosen one of wine peddling?"

"Wine and Souls, Little Harvester," the Entity answered provocatively. "I taste your hunger, even now."

"I already do shuttle souls," she let the words not just impulsively slip, but insolently bite. "Just not at your altar."

"Ah.. so you do serve. You ferry the dead and still pretend you are not bound to something greater. The altar is irrelevant. All roads lead to me eventually."

"You offer me nothing." It was surreal, to be having an entire argument with the Voidwalker in the middle of the road. "Why would I make offerings for nothing?"

"You think the knife offers the fruit a bargain? You bleed, little one... offering or not. The only choice is whether it means something.”

"I do find some importance in my blood. Clearly you do too. Maybe you shouldn't be so quick to take it from me. Or anything else for that matter. I worked very hard to claim what I do." The Harvester's chain of crystals floated above her head, an empty crown awaiting to be filled with souls. Her eyes narrowed on the Voidwalker with a finality that put the Entity riding it to silence. For now.

{ @allasticus Thank you for allowing Safrona to be a brat :p }

💿

Send 💿 for my muse to choose a song that matches your muse's vibe.

"You can whisper, speak it, command my demons to mimic your words. You can sing it into all of my bones, but I will never bow down to you and be your next victim. When you can accept this we may be able to have an actual conversation."

{ @allasticus <3 }

[safrona-shadowsun]

{ o.o VERY targeting my interests WoW, good job lol }