#Translucent Stone Veneers

[eiirisworkshop]

Between Takes

A Hazbin Hotel ficlet. 364 words. Can be read on Ao3.

__________

Angel wriggled uncomfortably against his bonds, took a deep breath, and let it out. He and Lupé were tied next to each other to the side of a faux-stone obelisk, hands above their heads, apple boxes stuck under their feet by the grip department, at least for shots that that wouldn’t show them. Or, like now, between shots. 

“So,” Lupé rolled his head boredly toward Angel, “I gather from Vinsta that you are fucking your bodyguard? Or was that staged?”

“Oh, it was staged,” Angel snickered. “But I am totally fucking him. Dating, actually.”

“No fuckin’ way,” Lupé chuckled. 

“Mhm!”

“How’s the sex?”

“Makes me come harder than you do.” Angel lifted a foot to lightly kick Lupé’s ankle. 

Lupé stuck his tongue out at him. Angel returned the same then they both leaned back against the fiberglass stone. They were quiet a moment, half-listening to the assistant camera arguing with a grip. 

“Kitty got the dick barbs?” Lupé asked. 

Angel grinned. “Yup.”

“Nice.” Lupé laughed appreciatively, but then his expression sobered and he lowered his voice.  “Big boss know?”

Angel shrugged best he could.  “Hasn’t said anything, hasn’t interacted with the post, but my schedule sure did spawn a bunch of fourteen-plus hour days all of a sudden.”

Lupé hummed.

Angel snuffled a couple times then manifested his third pair of arms to rub at his face.

“Angel!” the assistant director yelled from the side of the soundstage.  “Put those arms away!”

“My nose itches!” Angel yelled back, holding those hands up indignantly.  “And it’s not like we’re fuckin’ rollin’!  Jorge can go sit ,” he gestured to the mass of translucent teal tentacles sprawled across three folding chairs with an iced coffee and a magazine, “and, I mean, I get that the ropework takes too long to reset but that means we’re stuck up here!  Gimme a fuckin’ break.  I’ll put ‘em away when camera gets their shit together.”

The assistant director glowered but turned to attend to other matters.  Angel huffed.  Lupé grinned to tease, “You have a nose?”

“Loop,” Angel said with a thin veneer of patience, “I’ve snorted coke off your dick.  You know I have a nose.”

Lupé laughed.

[stoneveneermanufacturerindia]

Illuminate your space with the mesmerizing allure of our premium quality translucent natural stone veneers. Let light dance through elegance, adding a touch of luxury to every corner. 💫✨ #TranslucentStone #PremiumQuality #NaturalElegance #stoneveneer #naturalstone #diyhomedecor #diyhome #diyhomeprojects #facade #walldecor #wallcladding #flexiblestone #thinstone

[waferthinstone]

Stone Veneer Manufacturer

Pan Creations, a premier stone veneer manufacturer, crafts timeless elegance for your space. Transform ordinary walls into extraordinary features with our exquisite collection. Each veneer exudes sophistication, durability, and natural beauty. Elevate your surroundings with Pan Creations – where quality meets innovation.

[stonesveneer]

Translucent Stone - Stones Veneer is a leading supplier of translucent stones, offering a wide range of high-quality natural stones that can be used for a variety of applications. Translucent stones, also known as semi-precious stones, are a unique and visually stunning option for interior and exterior design projects. These stones allow light to pass through them, creating a beautiful effect that adds depth and dimension to any space. Stones Veneer offers a variety of translucent stones in different sizes, shapes, and colors, including quartz, agate, and amethyst. Whether you're a homeowner or a professional designer, Stones Veneer provides an excellent selection of translucent stones to enhance the beauty and ambiance of any project.

[solitudeofsunrise]

The Ashes of Time

Poker is a game of resolve.

"To win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill.” - Sun Tzu

In 2010 the 23 year old prodigy Tom Dwan played one of the biggest hands in televised history at that time against Phil Ivey, the master. A professional poker player with an approximately $100 million-dollar net worth as of 2023.

From our purview, we closely inspect. The cards they hold, the faces we read. A simulation created within your mind. Deciphering, predicting and reading the minds of the players, who gamble millions of dollars on live television.

A tug of wills amidst a struggle of war. The heart of the game is under no veil, only a crystal veneer. Winner takes all.

The battle of wills, mano a mano; everything, everywhere and everyone irrelevant and blind to the one true cause. Locked in, they are.

Balanced upon the phantom thread, a precarious existence to which total success or abject failure persist. You are in a battle with fame and demise. Survival depends upon it - the will to defeat the enemy is heartless. In order to prevail, one must conquer oneself.

Brutal, as one is merciful.

Watching this hand, my true will revealed, where all fortitude exists, was sorely lacking.

I was deluded and complacent to ever think I had amassed enough to be considered a Man at 25 years of age.

Upon that realization, I sat down and watched. Patiently mesmerized. 

-

This game was played deep within the Golden Nugget casino. Behind the opulent façade, lies the heart of gambling culture. Where the weary cowboys and jacked bankers come to prospect. Fantasizing about little nuggets of Vegas they could bring home.

Bearing witness to both million dollar bluffs and catastrophic luck. 3 million dollar pots on live television. Of all the hundreds of players and hands I have ascertained, there is one that changed my life.

Tom ‘Drrrr” Dwan

From his Spock-like appearance, to his inexplicable poker ability. There is one trait that towers above them all.

Resolve.

Tom Dwan has defeated and taken the souls of countless players, bearing the resolve of incalculable men. From his stone-cold pronouncement of impending doom, to the melancholic finesse of his betting motion, chips stacking lackadaisically. Nonchalant, Dwan’s commination, melodically splayed outwards, the chips nestling on the gentle green felt.

Imprinting translucent terror into his opponents hearts.

-

‘I have met the enemy, it is I.’

- Alexander the Great

Unfolding before me was simply a man of resolve. A man whom understood that prior to the moment in which the possibility of success could occur, one must be fortified. Immune to earthquakes, impregnable to the darkest threats and most significantly, impervious to what life throws at you.

Tom Dwan casually bluffs into a seven hundred thousand dollar pot. The obstacle is Phil Ivey, regarded by numerous poker observers and contemporaries as the best all-around player in the world, a player with 10 World Series of Poker bracelets. Phil Ivey considers his position for three minutes. He folds. The prodigy has struck the master into an act of submission. 

Dwan collects the jumble of chips, assembling columns of slightly hued disk. Gazing upon his freshly acquired winnings, impartial to the moment.

His will, stoic as a pillar. 

As my resolve grew from within.

Ignited and moved, I witnessed.

I once remembered where I was going. 

Swiftly moving once again.

Resolved.

Brushing aside, the ashes of time.

-

   The link to video in question - Tom Dwan vs Phil Ivey CRAZY BLUFF! | High Stakes Poker -

[zhalfirin]

Diplomatic Relations - Maldoror_chant

Artwork by Kishimoto Masashi and an unknown artist (if anyone knows whose work it is please write so I can credit properly)

Materials used:

covers - cardboard (multiple layers) - slate veneer (translucent) - genuine leather (coated) - Tsumugi paper

book block - Munken polar 100g/m² - tracing paper - Satogami paper - headbands buttonhole silk 

With blank permission by the author for all her fandom related work there are two copies of this book now with only slight differences.

The slate veneer is slightly different in pattern since it is natural stone and you won’t get two pieces looking exactly the same

and I also had a slight alteration in the headband pattern

I also made an informations page thought that probably could do with more information on some parts...

[zhalfirin-binds]

WIP Diplomaric Relations - maldoror_chant

Part IV

I’m finally getting to do the covers. I wanted to have the cut outs on both sides inside and out with light shining through slate veneer (it’s a translucent one) I decided against it for a couple of reasons.  1. the veneer is only on one side stone, the supporting layer on the other is a yellowish-translucent fiberglass that would have needed some more backing (I was thinking a very thin japanpaper to take away the plastic look but keep the translucency) 2. My fingerstips complained very loudly about cutting out cardboard though and it would double the work not only cutting out more cardboard, but also cutting out the paste down and figuring out how much the paper will stretch for two different papers. Also... 3. covering the edges with leather...   that was a pain with all the angles and curves. It took me almost an afternoorn to do that for the two cover sides I need. On a good note, towards the end I came up with a way that works best for me. I mounted the slate veneer like an inlay on a thin cardboard, used another one in the thickness of the venneer to even out the thickness and covered it with the thin cardboard prepped with cut out and leather. I was careful with the pressure I put on it in the press, if there are any uneven parts in where the inlay is I don’t want them to press through, but I need a bit of pressure to have the different layers stick firmly together. When it’s dry I’ll decide on the final position of the cut out and cut the cardboard to measurement.

[architectnews]

Forest Hill Garden and Pavilion, Toronto

Forest Hill Garden and Pavilion, Toronto, Ontario Building and Landscape Design, Modern Canadian Home

Forest Hill Garden & Pavilion in Toronto

4 Jun 2022

Design: Amantea Architects

Location: Toronto, ON, Canada

Photos: Doublespace Photography

Forest Hill Garden & Pavilion, Canada

Toronto’s Amantea Architects has transformed the landscape of a single-family home in the city’s Forest Hill neighbourhood, clarifying its program while maintaining its lush, layered character. The Forest Hill Garden & Pavilion project comprises a fully redesigned backyard including dining terrace, patio, sports lawn, swimming pool and pavilion—all efficiently programmed within a 560-square-metre space—as well as a new front garden and entryway.

The exterior project began with Amantea’s collaboration on an extensive renovation of the primary residence. The client wanted to preserve elements of the existing landscape—notably the mature trees along the rear garden, which add to the backyard’s leafy seclusion—while extending the material palette and language of the house’s now-modern interior.

The landscape’s focal point is a new 47-square-metre pavilion spanning nearly the entire width of the backyard and pushed as close to the rear property line as permitted. Hovering above native grade on piers to mitigate its impact on the adjacent trees, the pavilion’s linear form is configured to preserve the existing vegetation. Clad in black to contrast with the surrounding foliage while visually receding into the background, the pavilion functions like a screen, creating the illusion of limitless space beyond. The house-facing elevation is an assembly of vertical cedar battens that gradually transition from wide and shallow at the building’s ends, which house storage and mechanical, to narrower, deeper and more widely spaced at its centre. The resulting moiré-like effect is especially striking at night when the pavilion is illuminated like a lantern, with warm light filtering through its screen and full-height translucent glass walls.

These glass panels admit ample daylight, limiting the need for artificial lighting while still providing visual separation; after dark, daylight is supplemented with tunable LEDs integrated into the ceiling. The pavilion’s core, finished with a warm and natural palette of marine-grade ply with cedar veneer and oiled cedar boards, is turned over to a washroom, a change room and a shower next to an opening in the roof that frames a birch tree and a view of the sky—zones deftly partitioned yet open to the surrounding landscape and pool activity.

From the interior of the pavilion, ipe flooring connects to the oiled ipe decks that frame the swimming pool. Mirroring the pavilion’s geometry, the new rectangular pool is lined with Algonquin limestone that extends horizontally on one side to form a deck wide enough for lounge chairs; nearest the house, the same limestone acts as a bridge to the dining terrace. The pool’s remaining sides are flanked by decks of oiled ipe that sit flush with the level of the lawn. The use of continuous walking surfaces throughout the backyard unifies the pavilion with its setting—an effect enhanced by a planted roof that visually extends the lawn to the perimeter vegetation when viewed from above.

Opposite the pavilion, the new dining terrace replaces an existing balcony-like platform framed by a masonry wall and accessed by a narrow set of eight stone steps; now, an extended sequence of wide platforms elaborates the transition from ipe dining terrace to limestone patio below, dispensing with the need for a guardrail and enhancing the feeling of openness. Raised to meet the level of the main floor interior, the new enlarged terrace also includes a generous custom barbecue station set against horizontal black-stained cedar lath with a powder-coated aluminum heat guard.

From dining terrace to pool, the elevation change is managed by a berm—sandwiched between two low limestone retainers, further subdivided by black aluminum planters and densely foliated to negotiate its steep descent—inserting a middle-ground to create a sense of distance between pool and terrace. Here and elsewhere, plantings (selected in collaboration with Tina McMullen) are structured for a modern look that nonetheless retains the loose, shaggy feel of the original garden.

In the front yard, Amantea updated an existing horseshoe driveway and intersecting front walk with new heated surfaces of concrete and limestone. The entrance, too, is modernized, with a new square stoop, orthogonal limestone bench and corresponding planting box framed in blackened metal; here, as in the areas flanking the front walk, a carefully proportioned composition of shrubs and low plantings replaces turf.

Forest Hill Garden & Pavilion in Toronto, Ontario – Building Information

Design: Amantea Architects – https://www.amarchitects.ca/

Site size: 1084 sqm Completion date: 2019 Building levels: 1

Landscape Contractor: Coivic Contracting Ltd. Pavilion Contractor: Niet Outdoors Planting Plan Designer: Bosque Landscape Architecture Structural Engineer: Blackwell

Photographer: Doublespace Photography

Forest Hill Garden & Pavilion in Toronto images / information received 040622

Location: Toronto, Ontario, Canada, North America

Toronto Architecture

Toronto Architectural Designs – chronological list

Ontario Architecture News on e-architect

Therme Canada | Ontario Place, West Island Design: Diamond Schmitt image courtesy of Diamond Schmitt Therme Canada Ontario Place

Edition, 764 St. Clair West, Wychwood-Cedarvale neighbourhood, Midtown Architecture: StudioAC photograph : Double Space Photo Edition’s Second Location

La Belle Maison Mansion photo : Property Vision Media La Belle Maison Mansion

Toronto Architecture

Comments / photos for the Forest Hill Garden & Pavilion in Toronto designed by Amantea Architects page welcome

The post Forest Hill Garden and Pavilion, Toronto appeared first on e-architect.

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, 36: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A set of technical diagrams to create a weapon of unspeakable power. The diagrams are hundreds of years old and show how to make a trebuchet.

A stunning broach, embedded with a misty quartz crystal.

A flat, otherwise unremarkable pearlescent-white overcoat button about an inch across. It is heavier than it should have any right to be. It practically vibrates with barely contained magical force.

The severed claw of some monstrous scaled creature, preserved and formed into a camping stool.

A human skull, yellowed with age, with the jawbone wired in place with fine copper wire. The skull has been etched with very fine runes, visible only in bright light, that identify it with the name of "Jerimr". When the skull's name is spoken aloud by someone holding it in their left hand, it will rise into the air and assume a position over his left shoulder, hovering unsupported.

An opaque, black eyepatch that the bearer can see through perfectly.

Bag of Useless Junk. A tattered burlap sack that jingles as if it were full of broken glass, rusty nails and wooden scraps even when empty. The bag actually generates its own trash and three times per day, the bearer can reach into the sack and withdraw a Random Worthless Trinket. 

An ornate bullseye lantern adorned with gold filigree and sun patterns.

A carved rosewood relief depicting half-men, half-rhinos whipping peasants into an oven.

An illustration of a silver tabby cat with these words on what seems to be a flyer: “Lost kitty. Responds to the name ��Mankiller.’ Please return to Alda’s Alchemy Shoppe if found. Reward provided—higher if alive. Do not feed or raise from the dead. He bites; wounds will be treated. You kill him, you will be cursed and haunted by something that is utterly unholy and has a somewhat questionable sense of humour.”

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A set of technical diagrams to create a weapon of unspeakable power. The diagrams are hundreds of years old and show how to make a trebuchet.

A stunning broach, embedded with a misty quartz crystal.

A flat, otherwise unremarkable pearlescent-white overcoat button about an inch across. It is heavier than it should have any right to be. It practically vibrates with barely contained magical force.

The severed claw of some monstrous scaled creature, preserved and formed into a camping stool.

A human skull, yellowed with age, with the jawbone wired in place with fine copper wire. The skull has been etched with very fine runes, visible only in bright light, that identify it with the name of "Jerimr". When the skull's name is spoken aloud by someone holding it in their left hand, it will rise into the air and assume a position over his left shoulder, hovering unsupported.

An opaque, black eyepatch that the bearer can see through perfectly.

Bag of Useless Junk. A tattered burlap sack that jingles as if it were full of broken glass, rusty nails and wooden scraps even when empty. The bag actually generates its own trash and three times per day, the bearer can reach into the sack and withdraw a Random Worthless Trinket.

An ornate bullseye lantern adorned with gold filigree and sun patterns.

A carved rosewood relief depicting half-men, half-rhinos whipping peasants into an oven.

An illustration of a silver tabby cat with these words on what seems to be a flyer: “Lost kitty. Responds to the name ‘Mankiller.’ Please return to Alda’s Alchemy Shoppe if found. Reward provided—higher if alive. Do not feed or raise from the dead. He bites; wounds will be treated. You kill him, you will be cursed and haunted by something that is utterly unholy and has a somewhat questionable sense of humour.”

A hand mirror with a butterfly relief on it's non-mirror side while it's reflective surface appears to be a pool of moonlight.

A jointed ceramic finger on a leather thong. A nub of bent and broken metal, whereupon the thong is tied, sticks from the stump like an end of bone ripped from its joint in a whole hand. The finger's two joints may be manipulated with some difficulty, articulated over some rusty armature of metallic bone.

A long arrowhead with only one barb, like a fishhook. The shank is helically grooved, as if meant to screw onto a shaft. No rust, nor any sign of age or wear at all shows on the brilliant, blued alloy from which the point is crafted.

A tiny skull themed toy castle with a hinged “jawbridge” and a handful of tin soldiers.

A velvet cloth that erases most scratches, scuffs, and ink when passed over them.

A large, weathered bit of cloth covered in inter-woven spider's silk. It has been folded many times over and bears an ever-changing nonsensical mass of blurred lines, shapes, and symbols.

An ancient animal skin drum yellowed and worn with age. It naturally hums softly to the rhythm of nature's heartbeat.

An ebony carved walking cane with tiger head; the head has a hidden jaw with space within to hold a small object such as a potion vial or scroll. The interior hinge is fashioned from a preserved human finger.

A large incense burner depicting an apocalyptic scene; A palace and surrounding town is levelled by an earthquake and fire. Dancing tiger-headed demons laugh and dance and whip the dying locals

A wooden teapot with brass and wood inlays with a handle made from a vitrified monkey hand.

A gold piece that has been bitten in half.

An exquisitely crafted red ceramic cup, incised with black figures depicting lions, wolves, and fruiting plants.

A small glossy stone on which is drawn a complex runic sigil.

A wide-brimmed leather hat that has a tall crown with a crease down the middle. A trio of small, gold rings pierces the hat's brim along one side.

A crystal orb, awash with a swirl of colours at its centre, bearing a crack along one side. The colours within are constantly leaking out, in a thin mist.

A cello made of maple inlaid with hornbill ivory and tuning keys of cold iron.

A jar made of cut crystal that is sealed with a stopper of iron. Its filled with amber fluid, and a floating clot of tissue that undulates and pulses.

A squat stone goblet made of dark green stone with black intrusions, polished to a silky veneer and carved with capering, vomiting frogs and nonsense rhymes in abyssal. Any liquid poured into this goblet instantly becomes a rancid, foul smelling greenish slime.  

A hickory cane with a polished rose gold head in the shape of a grinning head.

A dark crystal orb with the patterns of the night sky revolving within it; a small sun and moon appearing and submerging over time.

A bead, about the size of a large man's thumbnail, carved from brilliant orange opal with sparkling yellow flaws inside. It looks like a stylized flame or sunburst on casual examination.  

The skull of a dire tiger, painted in infernal runes and mounted upside-down on a pedestal of black basalt carved in the shape of an erinyes who holds the basin up. The skull's eye sockets are filled with blood coloured star-sapphires.

A crescent-shaped wooden handharp, about the size of a human hand, with metal strings.

An iron pocketwatch with the chain extruding from an eagle's mouth mounted into the top of the watch. The clasp at the end of the chain is a talon.

A strange looking stone made of a material that looks like basalt, only with small insets of strange red, almost gleaming, material. It is slightly warm to the touch, and if one examines it very carefully or is very tactile to the touch, it seems to be almost pulsating.

A rattle that looks like a shrunken humanoid skull. Eyeball-like marbles rattle within it.

A lace-trimmed white silk handkerchief embroidered with the initials ‘FLS’ and stained in one corner with fresh blood.

A handful of polished dice carved from bleached human knucklebones. One of the dice is obviously heavier than the rest.

A calligraphic playbill for “The Physicians’ Apprentice” with yesterday’s date and covered with half a dozen half-illegible signatures.

An envelope, yellow and weathered, but still sealed with wax pressed by a local legate’s signet.

A neck guard made from hardened leather reinforced with a band of metal etched with the sunburst holy symbol of the God of Light. Knowledgeable PCs will know that collars such as these are worn mainly by vampire hunters and the extremely paranoid. The guard protects the bearer against vampire bites and attacks directed against the throat when worn.

A set of half a dozen tiny figurines carved into simple animal shapes. When placed on a reasonably flat surface or held in the palm of your hand, they gradually begin to animate and interact with one another.

A small tin box with a hinged lid, half-filled with finely ground, pure white, sea salt.

A goblet carved from blackened bone and ivory with black adamantium fittings. It is the size of a large brazier, its basin in the shape of a toothed demon face, its base a nest of serpents.

A perfectly round ball of translucent crystal as black as the night sky. Floating in the darkness of the ball are twinkling motes of white light, and seven steady coloured lights. Looking into this darkened orb is like looking out a window onto the night sky.

A pair of goggles made of leather that have an unwholesome oily sheen and fitted with lenses ground from a transparent crystal that makes objects refract and shimmer slightly when the bearer looks through them.

A brooch made of gray stone, studded with uncut dull gems and wrapped in tarnished metal wire.

An elegant yet simple flute carved from a single piece of ebony wood.

A coin-sized piece of polished bone that can be worn around the neck as an amulet or pinned to clothing as a brooch.

A herbalism kit that contains a variety of instruments such as clippers, mortar and pestle, and pouches and vials used by herbalists to create remedies and potions.

A bizarre structure of pink, worm-like protrusions, each ending in a clear, bright violet crystal. Knowledgeable PC's can identify the mineral as cobaltian calcite.

A large, clear quartz embedded with a seemingly random assortment of tiny golden crystals. Knowledgeable PC's can identify the mineral as pyrite.

A ragged hunk of malachite has been broken open to reveal a series of translucent cyan domes. Knowledgeable PC's can identify the mineral as chrysocolla.

A collection of hundreds of delicate, clear white crystals the length of a finger radiate from a central point. Knowledgeable PC's can identify the mineral as strontianite.

A series of sharp teeth on a leather strap, which can be affixed around the head. A realistic yellow cat eye blinks in the central position.

A wand crafted by moon druids in honour of the great beasts of nature. The core is made of a dryad sapling grown from the fertile remains of a large beast. The bones grow around the sprout and meld into it.

An ornate bronze tube, capped on each end with polished horn and wrapped tightly with thick red cord.

An intricate metal contraption which clamps to a table top and consists of a small vise, several articulated arms with lenses, clamps, and unidentified doodads. The entire thing is covered in small coils and loops as though to hold a vast array of tiny tools.

A life-like painting of a skull on black canvas with intricate embroidery decorating every surface of the skull and tiny silk flowers sewn throughout the surface.

A polished jade hair band studded with tiny black stones which sparkle with a faint, internal light.

A collection of small pastel spheres made of some tightly packed powdery substance with a cloying floral scent.

A slick, polished cane with a ferocious sea monster’s head modelled on the top. A hidden trigger causes the monster’s mouth to open and close.

A six inch bronze fish hook encased in a clear glass cube. Knowledgeable PC's will recognize this as the third place trophy of the annual fishing competition of a local port city.  

A perfectly smooth clear glass square, roughly arm-length along each side, with bevelled edges and rounded corners. It may have once been a table top.

A leather mask that is probably depicting the front half of a skull, with two tiny horns stuck on the top. It is sewn of layers, and layers of a strange leather, needing the multiple layers to give it any sort of structural stability. Knowledgeable PC's can determine that the disturbing object is sewn of ancient human skin, taken from bodies long lost under the hungry earth of swamp bogs. Should the bearer wear the mask and make eye contact with another intelligent creature, he feels as though he is just at the cusp of tapping into unfathomable knowledgeable.

An old lute made of ironwood, with strings and tuning keys of glistening steel.

A large, transparent red tumbler made of some unidentifiable material, its sides textured delicately and a single seam recognizable down one side. Strange characters decorate the bottom.

An ornate, hand-inlaid, glass globe contained within a protective wicker cradle.

A leather wallet containing a full set of certified identification papers denoting that the bearer is a member of the moneylenders, investors and bankers guild. The section containing the member's physical description (Height, weight, sex, race, eye, skin and hair colour) is completely blank and could be filled in by anyone with half decent handwriting.

A series of ancient, hand-drawn maps representing uncountable countries and territories in some unknown part of the world.

A crystal ball containing a miniature frozen landscape. When shaken, the landscape appears to experience simulated snowfall.

A polished metal case containing a set of fine needles, similar to those for sewing, several thin glass cylinders, and a single ampoule of a sluggish red fluid.

A small sterling box engraved with the image of a small bunch of fruit with leaves and vines. Resting inside is a sealed paper packet which rattles when shaken.

An intricately detailed figurine posed as though singing to an audience on a balcony above her. Her eyes sparkle with tiny jewels to make it appear that she is crying.

An inky black square housed within an ornate golden frame. On closer inspection, faint shapes and motion are visible in the painting, as though it shows an active scene in an unlit room or perhaps underground.

A large brass hook that vaguely reminds you of a boating implement. Sharpened to a wicked point at one end and threaded for mounting on the other, the metal is polished to a mirror sheen.

An intricate clockwork crow that stands frozen in a quizzical pose, as though gazing at something interesting just above your head.

A sheaf of parchment that contains entirely too many limericks.

A pair of crystallized humanoid eyeballs. You can see something dancing inside the pupil of each eyeball.

A carved wooden mask depicting a snarling animal face with sharpened teeth and painted in brilliant yellows and reds to resemble flame.

A large travel pouch crammed full of preserved cheeses.

A joined oak stool with troll-shin legs.

A small dowry chest inlaid with enamel pictures depicting lusty milkmaids.

A bronze lamp of a leaping sun figure being pulled by three heavily pregnant sphinx.

A papyrus scroll depicting a ritual disembowelling.

A bronze horse figurine trampling on slave children.

A written note saying, in what looks like a child’s handwriting, “You’d better stop doing what you’re doing. It’ll get you killed…or worse.”

A smooth piece of rounded amber that has a human eyeball in it.

A handheld mirror that's cracked with one missing shard of glass. Each new moon, the missing shard appears, and voices singing unsettling songs emanate from it until the sun rises.

A lady's ankle bracelet designed to look like rutting unicorns.

A delicate lacquer and silver fan with death’s head moth motifs.

A set of five bones wrapped with different-hued ribbons. Each ribbon is made from different fabric, and each one causes the bearer to smell or taste something unsavory when touched.

A bracelet made of brass triangles each with a face of anguish carved into them.

An anklet crafted from jade with hieroglyphic warnings of dire things to come.

A pair of large earrings set with faceted citrines that flash again and again with a thousand twinkles, attracting the eye.

An embroidered claret-coloured jacket decorated with brass buttons on the front and on the sleeves.

A crimson, demonic bloodstained robe that grants the bearer the unholy vigor of the demonic blood that taints the cloth.

A set of fine, angular robes closed with a wide band, tied behind him in a crisp, elaborate knot. The clothing is impeccably clean and its former owner must have been fastidious about his appearance.

A perfectly preserved hummingbird, its wings fully spread as if in flight, encased in a clear glass cube.

An enormous star sapphire, well over a hundred carats, but of very poor quality. The colour varies from cloudy gray to muddy brown, and there are concentric rings crossing the material and several black inclusions and imperfections.

[artpharos]

46. "What if I told you I’ve been in love with you since we were kids?", requested by @takoyakicorn

2,904 words, Lonashipping

Figured since I took so long I may as well make it as worth it as possible 8′D

Prompt List from waaaaaay long ago lmao 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

Moon loves the unpredictability of Alola. 

It comes about from living so close with nature, with the jungles and seas teeming with Pokemon. The Tapu's blessings flit in and out between every boulder, every tree. No day is exactly the same. And with each one, new challenges and new friendships are just waiting to be discovered. 

Being the Champion, she's the one that the people call on for dealing with tough and unexpected problems. It's a role she's grown into since she was twelve. Adults would turn to her for guidance after she proved herself capable, time and time again. And now she looks forward to every moment of it- knowing full well that every day, something new will surprise her, catch her breath, steal her heart away. Be it the sun, the moon, the stars, or even something beyond. 

But in between all the turmoil, all the chaos, there are a few things that Moon likes because they never change. Predictable, solid; an anchor in the swirling excitement that fills her days.

Gladion is one of those things.

Sure, at first he stuck out like one of the many many unpredictable things of Alola. Even more so, with his black clothes and dour attitude in the midst of the cheerful colours and Alola's sunny disposition. But ten years on, Moon knows Gladion- how he's loyal to a fault, how he cares deeply for the people and Pokemon around him. How sweet he can be when he offers her a malasada, or how his rare, gentle smiles always sets her heart aflutter.  

How he will always command Silvally to land a super effective hit on Decidueye when he's desperate.

"Multi-Attack!"

Silvally caws, leaping into the air. Gladion's trained it to be faster, stronger- and now its movements are too swift for the eye to follow. Decidueye just can't keep up, and there's a victorious glow of the Fire Memory in Silvally's eyes. The flames sear around its claws as it strikes. But Moon sees the attack coming a mile away. 

"Pivot! Synthesis!"

Decidueye spreads its wings, shimmering in the light of the setting sun. It's ungainly on its feet, but it turns just enough to avoid the brunt of Silvally's attack, the flames just barely scorching its cloak. Then it's wrapped in a glow of brilliant green, and when the light fades-

"Not a scratch, huh." Gladion winces. He's long ago outgrown gripping his hand every time he battles, but his fingers still twitch at the failure of his plan. His green eyes betray a hardening frustration. "Silvally, back up-"

"Don't let him! Spirit Shackle!"

Decidueye lets out a raucous cry as it takes to the air. Energy gathers at the tip of its bow, and it fires. Silvally is fast, but it can't outrun the arrow. 

"Silvally!"

The chimera braces, its claws digging into the ground. As the dust clears, its eyes still remain fixated on Decidueye, and Moon wonders if her estimations are off. Then, it sways, and with a final trill, Silvally falls to the ground.

When a battle ends, there's a moment when time hangs in the air. When Moon can see across the field and feel her heart pounding with the exhilaration, the thrill of battle. The triumph of the moment seeps into her skin and her soul. Then the dust settles, and her breath catches in her throat. 

The sight's familiar- the frustration of defeat in Gladion's eyes across the field, the momentary twitch of his fingers. It's followed by his shoulders relaxing and his gentle exhale, skittering across the translucent floor. Then, he lifts his chin, meets her gaze with his own. His green eyes are filled with a warm respect, a small smile gracing his features. 

In that moment, Moon's stomach always flutters- silhouetted by the fading light of the sun, Gladion glows calm and warm despite his sharp features and black clothes. It always steals her breath, and she stays still, trying not to yell out the feelings that have remained in her heart for all these years. Instead, she schools her own posture. He recalls his Pokemon and steps forward to her with an open hand.

Ten years on, she's never told him how he always makes her feel like this. How she always treasures the quiet, stolen moments she has of him. After all this time, it'd just make things awkward between them, and as much as she likes unpredictability, she still likes the solidity of Gladion's presence, his touch. 

She takes his hand. The handshake is firm, steady. Expected. His grip is neither tight nor loose. Warm, his callused palm is a welcome sensation against her own. 

"Still have dirty tricks up your sleeves, I see." His words are sharp, but they're mellowed by the easy tone of voice, the familiar smile. 

Moon arches an eyebrow, feels the usual, teasing smile pull at her cheeks. "You're too predictable." 

Gladion lets out a soft huff. His hand drops away, and Moon laughs as he turns away.

And like every other time before, he glances at her through his bangs, his fingers twitching slightly before he holds a hand out to her again. 

"Malasada?"

Moon chuckles. She takes a moment to still the butterflies in her stomach, and smiles as she threads her fingers between his own. 

"Always."

_ _ _ _ _ _ 

Their favourite shop is at Melemele island's port, a stone's throw away from Moon's home and the ferry back to Aether. They buy their favourites- Moon's, a spicy Malasada, and Gladion's, a sour one. Then they sit at the docks, watching as the ships anchor and rest. The remaining Wingulls fly back towards land, and the stars begin flicker up overhead. 

Today, they make it just in time to catch the moonrise. Her namesake slowly crests above the waves. The glowing half-orb of luminous blue casts a silvery light upon the waves. Surrounded by the dusting light of the stars across the purple sky, it's beautiful.

She realizes she's staring when Gladion catches her eye, a faint smile gracing his cheeks. 

"What?"

"Nothing." He turns away and takes a bite into his malasada. "Some things never change. You always stare at the moon as if it's Arceus's greatest gift to mankind. Or Tapu Lele's, depending on the legend."

"Careful, that's sacrilege." Moon lifts an eyebrow. "Wouldn't want the Tapus to hear you calling their feats as mere 'legend'."

"Duly noted." Gladion keeps his face stern. "After all, wouldn't want you reporting my bad behaviour back to Tapu Koko."

Moon laughs, and that is enough to crack his feigned veneer, the ghost of a gentle smile shining through. 

She loves that look on his face. The way he always looks warm and exposed and soft around her. It's almost enough to keep her entranced, to let her drown into the depthless pool of his beautiful green eyes.

She clears her throat, takes another bite of her malasada. Turns her attention back to the sky.

"It's just... back in Kanto, the city lights would have drowned out the stars and the moon." She giggles. "Here, it's so bright and beautiful. Growing up, I could never imagine it. No matter how many times I look at it, it always surprises me."

"Hmm." Gladion acknowledges her explanation with a thoughtful nod. Then, his expression changes back to a familiar smirk. "Unlike me?"

Moon pouts. "You make it sound like that's a bad thing."

Gladion laughs. It's a simple sound, but accompanied only by the soft crashing of the waves, it sounds beautiful. He smiles as he turns to her, leaning closer ever-so-slightly. 

"Champion, you are the first person who has ever called me unsurprising."

Up close, his smile is warmer, his eyes brighter. Over time, it's easier to resist the urge to lean closer, and instead, Moon rolls her eyes. "That's because people expect a posh businessman when they're looking for the Aether president. Not someone just out of his teens who has a fondness for black hoodies."

"And the black hoodie doesn't surprise you?"

"Maybe it did, at first, but... it's been ten years, Gladion." Moon grins. "You wake up, work yourself silly. You go to Battle Royales on Wednesday specifically because that's when Royal Mask fights. And then you show up at the League every Friday at 5pm to battle. You're as predictable as the tide."

Gladion's eyes widen, and Moon wants to remember the look on his face- the mild parting of his lips, the small crinkle of his eyes. But too soon, Gladion huffs and turns away. He doesn't retort, instead settling back to his original position. But his shoulders are relaxed, his breath calm. He continues to eat his malasada in peace.

Moon chuckles and bites into her malasada as well. She's not one for silence. But sitting here, next to Gladion, with only the stars and the sea around them and a companionable quiet surrounding them... she doesn't really mind. She looks forward to the nights like this, a routine part of her life and a man she's grown to love.

And yet sometimes she wonders what it'd be like to reach over, to tell him...

She cuts off that thought. Finishes chewing the last remains of her malasada. Tries to stifle the now-familiar pang of sadness that twinges in her chest. 

"You done?"

Gladion scarcely waits two seconds after she dusts the remaining sugary powder off her fingers when he turns to her. He's watching her, waiting.

Moon chuckles. Routine dictates that she should go home and sleep, prepare for tomorrow. Dream of green eyes as she sleeps. "Guess this is goodnight, huh?" she asks as lightly as she can. 

"No."

"Huh?"

Gladion gets up, and holds a hand out to her. She stares up at him, silhouetted by the night sky, at the hand so close that she can remember the warmth of his touch. 

"How about we do something different for once?"

"I know what this is." Moon arches an eyebrow with a grin. He looks so confident, so eager to prove himself, that it makes her heart warm. "What do you have in mind?"

He smirks. "I'm told you like surprises."

Moon laughs. Without a single mote of hesitation, she takes his hand.

_ _ _ _ _ _ 

He leads her down the familiar paths of Melemele, away from Hau'oli and towards the wilderness they both love. The moonlight filters through the large palm leaves, and when she looks up, Moon can still see fragments of the night sky; the stars and the milky way. All around her, the trees are like a comforting blanket. It enshrouds them in a gentle darkness, scented with freshly fallen rain and barely-trodden soil. Gladion's hand holds hers throughout, the faint smile on his face guiding her on through the dark. 

Eventually the familiar trail lights a spark of curiosity. This turn from Route 3, this scent in the air- Moon says nothing, doesn't voice her questions. Then Gladion guides her to the hilly overlook where the Melemele meadow stretches out in front of them. 

Moon gasps. 

She's been to the Melemele meadow at night before. The moonlight shines upon the yellow flowers. Now they're illuminated, almost glowing with a gentle blue. There's nobody else here this late at night, and the air is scented with sweet honey. A gentle, brisk breeze flutters through the sheltered field. But what truly steals her breath is the sight of the Cutiefly, dancing among the flowers, sparkling motes of light following their every movement. They form a trail of sparkles across the field, a web of light that Moon's never seen before. 

Truly, something new that catches her by surprise. 

"Figured we'd be just in time to catch the Cutiefly." Gladion watches her with a small, triumphant smirk. 

"How'd you know they'd be here?" She can't keep the awe from her voice as she watches the Pokemon dance, their little chitters filling the air with a pleasant song. 

"I'm President of Aether." He shrugs in response. "Learning about Pokemon behaviours is part of what helps our conservation efforts. And I learned a while back that the Cutiefly tend to be active during the half-moon. I hadn't seen it myself, but I figured you hadn't either, so..."

Even though his face is stern as usual, there's a faint colour on his cheeks, a warmth in his eyes. His hand grasps hers loosely, so easily, that Moon feels a swell of affection towards him. 

She leans against him, giggles as the wind blows fairy dust around them. "Thanks, Gladion. It's a very nice surprise. Maybe you're not as predictable as I thought."

He huffs and turns away. The angle hides his eyes, but his fingers twitch against hers. He says nothing at the close contact, doesn't move away nor react. 

"You're predictable too, you know."

He doesn't meet her eyes. His words, soft on a breath, sound... different. Reverent, even. Intimate. And even though she's used to his moods, his curtness, it's not a tone of voice she's familiar with. 

A shudder runs down her spine. But instead of laughing, instead of pretending she doesn't love him, doesn't love how close he is right now... she threads her fingers into his hand. He doesn't pull away. 

"You wouldn't hesitate to help anyone in need." Gladion smiles when he looks at her then.  "You're always up early in the morning, because you're eager to live the day. You laugh, even when you're upset. You love everyone- humans, and Pokemon alike. And even though you treasure your unpredictability, I know exactly what goes on through your head."

His green eyes pierce into her soul. His hand burns against her skin. And quietly, she asks, "Is that so?" 

"Yeah." Gladion nods, and his chuckle sends goosebumps down her arms. "You're happy right now, aren't you? That we're here together, watching the Cutiefly. That it's something that reminds you how much you love Alola."

Moon shivers. He's so close that she can feel his breath against her cheeks. Feel the intensity of his beautiful stare. Almost imagine that, just this once, maybe- 

"Moon?" He leans in close with a frown, and she realizes she's been quiet, too quiet. 

But Gladion's always gentle, always kind, always honest and bright and she loves him and maybe... having him surprise her like this, having him being unpredictable, wouldn't be that bad a thing. 

"You're half-right, you know." She licks her lips, searches his face for any hint of repulsion, rejection.

But instead he smiles, soft and sweet. "Yeah?" 

And Moon takes a deep breath, takes a chance.  

"What if I told you I’ve been in love with you since we were kids?"

The fairy dust flutters around them. The moon continues its upward climb. The moment holds. The Cutiefly flit about the glowing flowers, and the meadow sways in a gentle breeze. 

Gladion's breath catches. His green eyes widen. He says nothing. In the moonlight, his beautiful, angular features may have been cut from stone. 

Disappointment swirls in her chest. His touch burns, his proximity sending a sharp pulse through her. She moves to pull away-

Then his fingers thread with her own. 

"Gladion?"

Green eyes search hers. He inches forward slowly, and his free hand lifts to graze along her cheek.  

"Have you really?"

His bangs are like a curtain against the moonlight, shielding them from the field. He runs a thumb across her knuckles, and he holds her closely, so intimately, as if...

"Yes."

His lips are softer than she imagined, pressed against hers. Warmer, too, far warmer than her dreams. He pulls her flush against his body, his arm wrapping around her back. She shivers at the closeness of his touch, the warmth that floods her body from his kiss, her legs trembling. But he braces her, holds her close- kisses her, until she realizes that this is very very real. 

"Moon." He whispers her name as they part, the flush on his cheeks as warm as her own feels. A small smile dances across his face, and he looks so buoyant, so happy, that it stirs a soft giggle from her lips.

"Did I surprise you?" she whispers.

"It's a good surprise." His thumb brushes her bangs aside, leaving a warm trail on her skin. He chuckles. "And here I thought I had you all figured out."

"Likewise." Her smile is shy, but it makes him hold his breath and widens his eyes once more- and Moon has barely enough time to register the reaction before his lips are on hers once more. 

She pulls him closer, tugs his head down towards hers. His laughter bubbles against their lips, and when she looks at him again, he watches her with a warmth so pure, so bright, that she's sure it's a sight nobody's ever seen before.  

It catches her breath. Steals her heart away.

"Come on." He pulls away with a smile. He's barely a few paces away before he turns to her, holding a hand out to her once more. 

Without hesitation, Moon takes it. Threads their fingers together, secure. 

Gladion grins. The look on his face is bright, beautiful. He tugs her towards the meadow, where they're surrounded by the glowing flowers and the dancing Cutiefly. And when the moon rises to its peak and the fairy dust swirls around them, they dance, hand in hand, laughter and joy filling every inch of Moon's heart.

[stoneveneermanufacturerindia]

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[pacificbedrock]

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[poetdreamerfool]

2020 Freestyle series #29 - untitled ii | © poet.dreamer.fool

Black lives matter everlasting They add to our division By subtracting Hiding in the camouflage of all that tough guy acting Is Another black man collapsing on the inside Ask him if he good He say yea He been lied Laughing through these tears Clear thoughts, Translucent words, Opaque veneer, The streets are so sincere Cops can smell your fear Stand strong Eyes straight Fuck fate Up late shit You know writer’s block Use that shit as a stepping stone Now I’m over tops Of peoples heads And my former self That was sleeping on the floor You change from your core my heart on my sleeve Cause they aim for your chest Where I’m from If they act friendly Its a test best not fail The water turned off But they got toilets in jail The writing is under my skin in my notebook And on the wall Opportunity knocks But it never calls Not at all 2 shots Will have you leaking like Niagra falls Survival of the fittest Call me Ace Ventura When nature calls I’m the shit I’m the bat guano They out here fading niggas to black Like the end of the sopranos Mano e mano I’ll take you in a nano Life don’t got no manual If you get the best of me Run that shit back Asante Samuel The rat race Is feeling the green mile On the block like I’m Rodman All my swears is solemn Still I stand strong like a column

[typealittlefaster]

The Pain It Costs, To Love as She Does

Federico García Lorca – It’s True

Ay, the pain it costs me

to love you as I love you!

 For love of you, the air, it hurts,

and my heart,

and my hat, they hurt me.

 Who would buy it from me,

this ribbon I am holding,

and this sadness of cotton,

white, for making handkerchiefs with?

 Ay, the pain it costs me

to love you as I love you!

 1924:

The autumn air was cold, and my legs felt the chill through the thin fabric of my skirt. I had decided to forego stockings that evening after an irrationally long deliberation; I suppose I hoped that their absence would make the process easier? Somehow less invasive? Either way it seems foolish now. I turned left at the top of the deserted road and found myself in an entirely unfamiliar part of town. I made my way along China Street, until I saw the turrets of the castle rising above the houses; the ancient buildings were grimly striking in the dark, looming out of the night, grey and pale, ghostly and imposing against the stark backdrop. The chill in the air seemed to grow deeper and I pulled my jacket tighter around me. I turned right, onto a cobblestone street, constructed in a time before the city as I knew it, these streets weren’t designed for the motorcars in which I had become accustomed to travelling.

I pulled in breath after breath as my feet carried me a little too fast along the stones. The uneven terrain pulling the tendons in my lower legs much too fiercely and causing me to teeter and wobble in my tiny delicate heels. Quite why I had dressed in so genteel a manner for such an occasion I’ll never understand. It strikes me now that I must have made a hilarious figure cantering along the stones in the dark and weaving manically in the pursuit of some semblance of balance. I found that the rapidity of my breath was starting to burn my throat with freezing northern air. So I paused.

My fingers found the cool silver of the embossed cigarette case in my right-hand pocket and the book of matches that accompanied it. Standing now under the imposing figure of the Priory, a little past the castle walls, I lit a match. The sift hiss of the flame soothed me for a moment, and the golden light began to thaw the freezing air. The ornate pattern engraved on the gilded cigarette case glowed richly in the brief light and my slender fingers were, for a second, bathed in liquid gold. As I pulled the night air through the flame, through the sweet tobacco, and into my lungs, it became warm and merciful, rather than frigid and unforgiving as it had been moments before. As the familiar dizziness set in and I wondered whether everyone enjoyed sensual pleasures such as this with the depth and profundity that I did, I was reminded with sobering nausea that it was my indulgence in such vices that that had caused me to drag my sinful body past a house of God this evening. I can still remember how I got there. It could all be traced back to the smallest finger of his left hand. That was the true culprit in the crime I was about to commit – or perhaps I had already committed the true criminal act. If they found me, and wanted to ostracise me, arrest me, or string me up, I could pin it all on that little finger. I reckoned I could make a solid case too, might not completely absolve me in court, but surely they’d see that I was just an accomplice. Strolling past the graves, with tributes carved in a religious middle-English that I wouldn’t have understood even had it been light enough to see, I remembered the smallest finger on his left hand, and the first contact it had ever made with my right knee.

 The night had been a veneer of champagne glasses and loud laughter so far. Too-white teeth glinting in the low light as though their owners might be smiling or preparing to bite. We were all wearing those new American dresses and felt completely untouchable. The boys were enjoying our high hemlines and the American lightness of spirit that we wore to match our new style. Champagne fizzed gently in my head and cast a soft focus over the setting. He was sitting on my right and, as I conversed emphatically with the golden-haired girl opposite me, I felt his touch for the first time. He traced patterns up my thigh and under the hem of my dress, approaching the top of my stockings; I was caught in a foolish, childlike combination of excitement and fear, wondering what he would do when he got there. We both continued separate conversations and he refused to meet my eye, keeping his hosiery-based journey a secret buried within the crowd.

 Continuing my own journey through the night, with less anxious urgency but slightly more melancholy than before, I glanced up through the swirling smoke released by my lungs at the clock looking out from the top of the Priory tower. The golden numerals told me that I was still early. My nervous desire to pull myself up hills and fling myself through streets while forcing air through my body far too rapidly often caused me to arrive at destinations early, usually perspiring slightly and looking a little less kempt than I generally preferred. I meandered slowly over and between damp grey stone. I had no fear of the night. No fear of the dark. No fear of criminals. After all, wasn’t I a criminal? Therefore, my fairly reckless logic stated, the night should fear me. I admit I didn’t make a very fearsome figure, a girl of my age and stature wobbling through the dark with tears in her eyes caused by the acrid smoke from her own cigarette; but the weight of my decision and the might of its infinite possible outcomes and significances sat like lead beneath my soft translucent skin, making me impenetrable in my immorality.

During my introspection, my cigarette had burnt out. I only noticed when the cold night air was once again being drawn into my chest. I looked at its remains and the absence of a crimson lipstick mark jarred for a moment

 His fingers had brushed my lips momentarily, parting them slightly as he took his cigarette back. He lowered it to his side and met my eyes through the haze. I couldn’t tell if the dizziness was caused by the kiss or the smoke. The night became water, rushing past us, smooth and quick and beautiful; from street to stairs to sheets in consecutive heartbeats; time bunching in layers and then stretching to infinities. He wasn’t the only one. But the first had been painful, uncomfortable, fearful. A grey silhouette in a black room; cold hands; empty kisses; and, soon, nothing. But this was different, this was rapture, this was us. No brief and painful invasion of bodies, but a layering of pleasure upon pleasure, hard upon soft, silver upon gold.

 Pausing on the pavement, I looked to my left and saw the understated, easily bypassed dark green door that she had told me about. Clutching the thirty pounds rolled up in my pocket, I savoured my last moment of contemplation before I left the street behind. Did every dizzying, warm, soaring, golden moment like that eventually have to be paid for with a moment like this? A moment in the dark, on a cold street, outside a green door.

[nobaettadr]

— ★ AQUASTASIS ;

          after a journey of many hours, the endless treeline parts at last to reveal the treasure it keeps so carefully concealed, and the midday sun beams down onto a new, expansive view. until now, he’s been focused mostly on the end in sight — what he hoped would be the beholding of a bow of legend, wreathed in mystery. like yewfelle, it’s said to have rested in the hand of one of the land’s storied warriors of old; unlike yewfelle, it was a weapon even the meanest hand could draw. 

          like a colossus, the great, ashen temple towers high and wide into the sky, its stern and ancient veneer a testament to history. a grey maze of beaten stone pathways, their luster long faded, laces the ground before ascending a staircase to a high-walled platform, beyond which doors like old and statuesque.

          a blanket of silent, translucent mist obscures the landscape’s full majesty, as though shrouding teutates from unwanted eyes.

          ❝ thank you again for honoring my selfish request. ❞ he glances at sylvain apologetically, a look of soft browns and a self-effacing smile, as he dismounts, boots touching down on firm and comforting earth. a hand rests on the animal’s neck, soothing sweat from its twitching muscles in gratitude, as he leads it to the water’s edge with the other.

          if such a unique and powerful weapon were housed anywhere, this looks like the place. somber and hallowed... he’s almost afraid to speak too loudly, lest he rouse the spirit of some restless guardian. ❝ there’s a place much like this in jugdral. a holy temple... ❞ unchanged by the sands of time. ❝ or so it’s said. i haven’t seen it myself. ❞ he wonders if it, too, is bathed in such a pristine, sequestered landscape.

          grateful for the rest, his mount dips its head down to drink its fill of the lake water, and leif glances over to sylvain again, curious. ❝ i’m not familiar with the customs here... is it housed within the temple? are we... allowed to go in? ❞ the thought of violating religious precepts in, from what he understands, a land of very devout people in his first month here halts his steps and colors his tone with apprehension.

@gallantgautier