#*adonia

[eatsbooks]

Thank you so much for answering my ask also it was so good! I love maronia also her name fits so well. And Marius is absolutely a little rizzler. I need more of them 🥹. So maybe maronia + don't leave or hide. Actually write anything you want for them- I will love it

maronia + don't leave, hide

The sheets are pulled back, and the cold creeps in, as it always does. Never just a chill pebbling at his skin anymore, but the marrow-deep iciness known only in death.

Marius catches her wrist, and it is warm to the touch. “Don’t leave,” he rasps. “Not yet.”

Conflict writes itself across her face, tugging down at the corners of her mouth, flattening her brow. He knows it is an unfair thing he asks. Emile will kill him if they are found out, but his brother will do far, far worse to her. Still, he does not retract the words.

Adonia glances to the balcony doors, where the light of false dawn is too bright behind their curtaining, then looks back to him.

“Alright,” she murmurs. Again, like she is reassuring herself, “Alright.” She tucks back in to his chest, and her heat presses into his flesh, far enough he can pretend it is all he knows. “But just for a little longer, hm?”

Marius might nod, but already drowsed by her comfort, sleep overtakes him before he can be sure.

✧

Heart in his throat, Marius is jostled into waking. It takes him a moment, first to realize that he is conscious, then to realize it is suddenly morning, then to realize who is shoving at his chest.

Adonia gestures frantically at the door as he pushes up onto his palms.

Emile’s voice, filtering through wood that seems suddenly insubstantial: “…ny my entry?”

Marius is on his feet before he processes the decision to be. He shakes his head, clearing away the dizziness, clearing away the muzziness of sleep. He has no time to reckon with whether this buzzing in his body is fear or thrill.

His chamberlain, the blessed fool: “My sincerest apologies, my lord. I would never—”

There is no hiding her. Emile would sense another presence in the room. No doubt already does.

“—be so bold under any other circumstances, but—”

He could send her out onto the balcony to slip away, but that would only rouse Emile’s suspicions further. They have never been precious about their conquests.

“But?”

If he could stomach it, he might be able to glamour her, but even as minor a use of their ability as that…

“Well, it — it is only that the master does not—”

Unless he did not need to call on their magic at all.

Marius looks to the clutter of his desk, amongst which sits a recent request from Eris: a bangle, charmed to disguise the appearance of the wearer. It isn’t yet finished, but it will serve purpose enough now.

“—take kindly to his rest being disturbed. If-If—”

He plucks it from the pile and tosses it onto the bed, where Adonia still sits, stricken and small and pale. She looks down at it with wide eyes, then obediently slips it onto her wrist. When she looks back up at him, it is with honey-gold hair framing her face.

“If you could only—”

Marius points to the pillows at her back as he makes for the door. She turns over into them, positioned that only the spill of her hair and curve of her back are visible amongst the bedding.

Assured enough by the ruse, Marius pulls open the door. He finds his chamberlain convulsing at his feet, the tendons of his neck strained as he fights for breath that will not come with Emile’s smoke clogging his lungs.

Frankly, Marius is only surprised his brother held off so long.

“For fuck’s sake, Emile,” he grouses. But he supposes the servant deserves more than just that, for sparing Adonia. “Don’t be a prick. I have no interest in spending my day training a new chamberlain.”

Nearly, he thinks this will not work. But then there is a gasp from below, followed by a truly wretched cough.

Emile flicks his eyes up Marius’ naked body and steps over the sputtering chamberlain, no more than a bit of debris blocking his path. His lip curls up as he crosses the threshold into the room.

“It reeks of cunt in here.”

Marius watches his servant scrabble to his feet, then summon as much dignity as he can muster to flee down the hall. He looks to Emile once the male is out of sight and says, “You think you were the only one to lose yourself in a whore after the banquet?”

Narrowed and assessing, Emile takes in the disarray of the mattress and the body sprawled within it. “You let her stay the night?”

“We only just finished. You give yourself away, being free to intrude on me so early.”

It is not enough of a barb to ensnare his brother’s attention. Emile takes a few leisurely steps towards the bed, perusing what he can see of Adonia as one would a jeweler’s samples.

Pulling back the sheets for better view, he hums appreciatively. “Where were you hiding this one?”

Marius has the perverse urge to laugh. He crosses his arms over his chest, as if that might settle it. “She’s one of mine.”

At this, Emile glances back to him, sheet still in his hand. “It doesn’t do to get attached to them.”

“Is this what you’ve woken me for?” Marius asks, keeping his tone bored, if mildly irritated. “A bit of brotherly advice?”

“No,” Emile replies, finally letting the covering fall and turning to face Marius fully. “Adonia is not on the grounds. Her maids are unable to account for her whereabouts.”

Wretches. They ought to lie through their teeth for their mistress. They ought to offer their lives before letting her befall this sort of suspicion.

If Marius hadn’t been certain they’d been bought by Emile before, he is now.

With a roll of his eyes, “I didn’t realize you were so deep in your cups last night.”

Emile stiffens at this, like someone has wound a string about the top of his spine and abruptly yanked at it. He has been this way ever since they were young: so quick to offense, so quick to intimidation. It is not as effective anymore.

Unwilling to ask after the information, Emile only flicks his hand in impatient gesture for Marius to continue.

“She mentioned at dinner that she’d be visiting her parents’ estate today.”

Marius watches as Emile thinks on the lie. Some spymaster, to have his thoughts flit across his face so. That press of his mouth — how deeply he indeed drank. That furrow of his brow — how his mind did wander whenever Adonia spoke. That tilt of his head — how she very well could have mentioned such a thing to him, perhaps while he had been caught up in the breasts of the servant leaning across the table from him.

At length, “But not to have her maids ready her? Not to take them along?”

It is not an accusation, though some part of Marius wishes that it was. He shrugs, fending off his disappointment.

This is for the best.

He might face death, but, he reminds himself, Adonia would face worse. That is not worth it.

Marius says, “Much as I relish playing soothsayer for you, Emile, your mate’s dealings are not my concern.”

“No,” Emile says, “I suppose not.”

But his tone assures that they will be Adonia's.

Marius wishes, then, for S—

No, not him. He cannot think to him, now.

Marius wishes, then, for Eris to be here. He would have lied better. He would have known how to keep her from any consequence at all. He would have been smarter than to ask her to stay in the first place.

Suddenly at his side, Emile says in his exit, “Have a servant by to tidy this hovel.”

And that will be that.

Emile will leave. Adonia will be punished. Marius will not.

Wanting for something more, Marius says, “Of course, brother. Shall I fetch one of my own, or shall I select directly from your retinue to spare you the coin?”

Emile pauses at the door. He is drawn up so tall, and when he smiles, thin on his mouth, he looks very much like father. “You are so much bolder now that Silas isn’t around to fight your battles, Marius. I know it was a… difficult time for you, at first, but you should be glad of your freedom. It becomes you.”

There, Marius thinks. That is better.

He does not realize he has been left staring into his empty doorway until the door closes and Adonia is before him, her hair dark once more. She looks up at him with those soft, round eyes, the same ones she wore when she first slipped into his chambers at the Forest House.

“I’m sorry,” she says, hushed.

Marius does laugh, now. Just a chuckle. “You are sorry, Adonia? For what?”

Adonia reaches up to cup his jaw, the cradle of her palm a suggestion of warmth. Her thumb slips too easily on his skin as she slides it across his cheekbone.

He must be crying.

Marius says, “He will hurt you for this.”

“Yes,” Adonia replies.

“I am the one who should be sorry.” Lamely, “I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.”

Like a gardenia wilted around its edges, Adonia smiles at him. “Where else did I have to go?”

[emirkocturk]

Herkes sevdiğini söylüyor istediğine. oysa ki hiç kimse kalben sevmedi bir kelebek ömrü kadar..

[robobarbie]

Some alt outfits for the adonia cast

(cg WIP below the cut for those trying to avoid spoilers)

felix you are so pathetic

[heartnosekid]

the green baron (euthalia adonia) | source

[sylviaplathreincarnate]

The weather where I am is miserable atm but I’m excited to celebrate Adonia when it gets warmer!!

[progenitrix]

i also want to give my two cents on something!

i, truthfully, do not think that with reconstruction you have to celebrate festivals on the exact date they were in Ancient Greece if you know the cultural context as to why they were celebrated then.

Let’s talk about Adonia - my fav holiday.

its origins lie in Mesopotamia - originally brought over to Greece through the modern day Levant and Cyprus. The cults of Ashtart and Tammuz likely brought those festivals into greece to mourn the death of Tammuz and his descent.

These were held in Mesopotamia around the late spring/early summertime. the land would become extremely hot, barren and dry. Since Dumuzid was a god of fertility - this was connected to his death as fertility was draining out of the area.

Now, Adonia, due to the climate of Greece being different than Mesopotamia - was set a bit later in the summer and shifted to acclimate to the Aegean climate. The weather being that dry and hot was incredibly important to the rituals taking place.

now - i live in florida. Central Florida. We are wet as FUCK.

i am going to do Adonia most likely in the next coming weeks as we shift into Summer. Late May is one of our hottest and driest times of the year here, and as florida gets deeper into summer - it gets wet as fuck.

as long as you know the context, there really is no reason you shouldn’t shift and acclimate to where you live. i am working with a fundamentally different continent and climate than the ancient Aegean and im trying to build a relationship with this land. When i am doing festivals tied to nature - i filter it through the perspective of the land and how it functions.

[starofmithras]

The ancient custom of reviving Adonis, a young god of beauty and vegetation, was a widespread ritual in the Near East and Mediterranean world, often associated with the cyclical nature of life, death, and rebirth. It involved mourning his death, followed by celebrations of his return or revival. This ritual was often linked to spring festivals and agricultural cycles.

The myth of Adonis, a beautiful youth loved by the goddess Aphrodite, is central to this custom. His death at the hands of a boar was mourned, followed by his eventual resurrection or return.

Rituals included lamentations, usually by women, and in some places, the symbolic burial and then retrieval of an image of Adonis. In other places, the ritual might involve a young man taking on the role of the god; he would lay on the ground, mimicking death. After ritual mourning provided by onlookers, he would rise to his feet and be crowned with a floral wreath, symbolizing the god's return.

The myth of Adonis' death and rebirth, as well as the revival rituals, are often interpreted as reflecting the cyclical aspect of nature, particularly agricultural cycles. The winter months represented a time of death and decay, while the spring brought the revival of life and vegetation, represented by Adonis' return.

The Adonis cult, or variations of it, were practiced in Phoenicia, Greece, and other areas of the Mediterranean and Near East. These rituals were sometimes incorporated into broader spring festivals and fertility rites.

Art: "Venus and Adonis" (1729) by François Lemoyne

[goldenwaves]

before/after editing fun

[dreamtydraw]

Hellooo saw the doodle requests posts and I’m here to deliver!! Sorry if this is kinda loaded but I request that you doodle one of the love interests from the upcoming visual novel game Adonia AI! Just in case you haven’t heard of it it’s a VN made by robobarbie, the same person behind Blooming Panic! You can find the love interests appearances by looking at robobarbie’s tumblr blog and going down the adoai tags (or their art tag), and you can choose which love interest(s) to doodle I have no preference :)

« Just in case you haven’t heard of it » babygurl this blog has been a jerri stan account since march 2023 alright-

[percymmon]

Adonia

[eatsbooks]

34 bauble for adonia/emile gimme the other side of the coin

adile / maronia + bauble

When Adonia was a youngling, her mother had a statuette on display in their sitting room. Not a single guest came to visit without heaping compliments on her.

Every strand of her mid-night hair had been lovingly carved, then painted over with so fine a brush that none clumped together. Her dress, a rich, royal crimson, fluttered down her body as though caught on perpetual breeze. Always, she was laughing, the beautiful, tinkling noise that males preferred. Her dewdrop face was bright with it.

The detail was so fine, it seemed impossible to Adonia that she was not alive and simply faking. A pixie seeking safe harbor, perhaps. Such pests were known for their trickery.

Adonia would often leave the room — with intention, mind you, so that the pixie would not sense the lie — then exercise her newfound ability to step through the world and appear before the statuette to catch the pixie, finally, in motion. Devious herself, she never fell for such a ruse. Adonia was still not convinced.

Frustrated one afternoon after her etiquette lesson, and not yet tall enough to reach for the pixie to shake her into truth, Adonia flicked her fingers at the statuette and set her on fire. She did not want to hurt the pixie, of course. Just startle the little thing into action. Her flame never hurt her, you see, so she did not think much of it at all.

But her mother, who had been walking by, was at once aghast.

She is alive, was all Adonia first said by way of explanation.

She is not, her mother said. Why would you want to hurt her, if you thought she was?

I did not want to hurt her. Angry, suddenly, and uncertain why, Adonia asked, What is she for, if she does not do anything at all? If she only stands there, laughing, day in and day out?

Her mother looked at her quite sadly, then. It would be many years before Adonia understood why, and when she did, she would make a very similar face. She brings people joy, little love. Just by being. She does not need to do anything but that.

After that, Adonia came to live like the statuette.

She brushed through her hair, until it shone, until every strand was separate and fine.

She donned the latest fashions, in royal colors, in eminent cuts.

She laughed, beautiful and tinkling, in the way that males preferred.

Not a single suitor came by without heaping compliments on her.

When she attended court for the first time and the mating bond snapped between her and Emile — when she felt it, before he had even looked her way — when she could not keep from blurting it out and earning his sneer — she was glad that even for her indignity in the moment, all she needed to do was be, and she would soon bring him joy.

Sitting at his side now, Adonia stares into the flickering centerpiece of the banquet table and thinks to the statuette, as she has not done for some time. In her memory, it is alive. In her memory, it is still a pixie, tricky, devious, aflame.

The fire before her goes out. It is such a trivial use of her ability that she waves her hand before she can think better of it, and the flame roars back to life.

In her periphery, Emile’s grip on his fork tightens. He interrupts his conversation to snap, “That is servants’ work, Adonia.”

One of his brothers snorts from across the table, just as she murmurs out, “Apologies, my lord.”

Emile cuts a look to him. “Something amusing, Marius?”

But it is the same-faced one beside who leans forth and says, “It’s such low-hanging fruit. Must we even give it voice?”

Marius laughs, then incites the fire into a dance between them.

Silas waves a hand, and a centerpiece down the table flares up. “Come now, Emile,” he says, tipping his head to the other end of the table, where a third candle burns tame. “Your turn.”

In her lap, Adonia feels her fingers twitch. She does not mean for them to. It is much like setting the statuette on fire: frustration set free.

The flame soars towards the ceiling.

Down the table, the eldest brother issues command, cutting and final: “Enough.”

All of the centerpieces die down, abruptly.

Emile, staring daggers at his brothers across, thankfully does not seem to realize it was her who lit the third. But the twins do.

Marius slides his eyes to meet hers and smirks, a clandestine curve to the corner of his mouth.

Adonia drops her gaze to her plate.

But late into the night, when Emile has left their bed in pursuit of another, she dreams about it: a statuette burning up into a pixie, and a male who prefers her that way.

[emirkocturk]

Ne garip herkes rengarenk düşler rüyasında hâlâ. oysa ki yaşam denen her şey bir kelebek ömrü kadar..

Dead colorful hopes..

[robobarbie]

we take a walk for our (mental) health

[winniebell]

hello fellow helpols :) I was curious if anyone else celebrates Adonia? and if so when do you typically celebrate and what do you do?

I typically celebrate mid july-ish, just cause that's normally when it's hottest where I am. typically I'll burn some lettuce or fennel seeds, and try and get up on my roof if I can manage it, reflect on grief, and pour a libation

[extra-magichours]

@chayscribbles once again knocking it out of the park 🤗💗💙 thank you so much for this wonderful art!!

[scalecallerpeak]

Adonas & Adonias

I made a quick ref for these two. Two brothers (via soulbind) at odds over something that happened nearly a decade before Shadowlands. Now their idiologies clash in the most extremes during Bastion's civil war.

Text descriptions:

Adonas - A loyal member of the Disciple of Humility, Adonas served under Mercia and later under Chyrus. He had always been willing to help others, but could not stop his brother Adonias from his own faults. Adonas had always backed Chyrus and tried to explain to his brother that the transfer to the Temple of Loyalty was not personal or a punishment. That the paragon wanted to see Adonias thrive in an environment better suited to him, which the Temple of Humility just wasn’t. He still tried to lure his brother back to the path when Adonias revealed himself as Forsworn. However, this is a battle Adonas knows inside, he is loosing.

Adonias - Adonias was once a Disciple of Humility along with his brother Adonas. However, never showed the virtue of humility. While he had passed his rite and ascended it was believed Mercia kept him to try to improve his humility which faltered after his ascension. When Chyrus became the new Paragon of Humility and later chose Voitha, at the time an aspirant as his hand. Adonias spoke out against it, pointing out she had not completed her rites. This had been the last straw as Chyrus pointed out if he was truly humble he would have accepted Voitha’s promotion. Adonias was transferred to the Temple of Loyalty and became a sentinel. However, Devos knew of his struggles, and he quickly became a loyal member of the forsworn. Swearing vengeance on his old paragon for this transgression.