scavengershiloh

[scavengershiloh]

Orpheus and Eurydice retelling focusing on Orpheus' hubris as essentially the demigod of music and how Eurydice's death completely shatters his faith in himself

[scavengershiloh]

We need a second Chicago here

[scavengershiloh]

frame 1. Close up on a girls face in the light of a setting sun, overlooking a barren landscape.

frame 2. closeup on the single tear sliding down her cheek

frame 3. the tear in midair as it falls

frame 4. the light from it shines as it passes beyond her boot.

frame 5. it lands amidst other droplets, already evaporating in the hot air.

frame 6. We see the girl from above her, as she and a girl with purple hair look at a metal casket, emblazoned with a stamp: “SCAVENGER INCINERATION”. Mourners gather around dressed in black. The girl stands in front of the casket dressed in white, with an old Keffiyeh loose around her neck, covering a portion of her deep magenta hair. A black strip of cloth is tied around her left arm.

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AN: Yup, that’s ash, not snow. Shiloh is not going to get into the incinerator, its not a virgin sacrifice I promise. Aaaand I know all about the unfortunate error...

[scavengershiloh]

I have seen her summon stars from the skies;

her voice the path of a flowing stream, split the seam

of the ground, beckon forth ghosts from the grave,

topple bones from a still warm pyre; she holds firm

the damned with purring magic, sprinkles milk, ordering their retreat.

If she wants, she can vanish clouds from a dark sky;

if she wants, she can summon snow to summer.

- Tibullus born c. 55 - died 19BCE

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AN:

This poem was written by the Roman poet Tibullus, not, as is commonly believed, by Catullus, though he is one of my favorite poets. I can see the confusion, as the style is similar to Catullus’s other work, but lets give credit where credit is due. Its a Tibulls, not a Catullus, and if you try to say otherwise, well Catullus 16 to you :P

Non-literal translation by Thistleflame

[scavengershiloh]

Ch. 1 Scavenger

A girl stands reading a book under a setting sun. The coloring is odd, as if the composition of the atmosphere has been changed. Ash swirls across the deserted, cracking landscape.

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AN: sorry in advance for a really crappy update schedule. Seriously, I apologize.