#exterior gold gilding

[bloodtohold]

Craftsman Landscape in Melbourne

[overlyenthusiasticfictionreader]

Fanbinding of Gilded Chain by Sroloc_Elbisivni

Gilded Chain by Sroloc_Elbisivni

The throne of Iacon's Primes is draped in golden chains. The glitter hides how strong they are--and how impossible to escape.

Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Megaton/Optimus Prime Characters: Megatron, Optimus Prime, Soundwave, Ravage Words: 3,710

I typeset Gilded Chain for the 2023 Renegade Tiny Book Bang, way back in August. Another member claimed the typeset and bound me a fabulous tiny book. However, while all of that was going on, I was also struck with a vision of a book in gold chains. It took me a while to puzzle out how to make this happen, but here we are now. This is now the second copy of Gilded Chain I have sitting on my shelf!

Here are some exterior shots. I embedded the eyepins in layers of thin cardboard, so they were sunk down into the covers instead of above/below/beside:

The endbands match up well with the chains despite being thread:

With a name like "Gilded Chain", I had to go ham with gold every place I could fit it in, which also includes the endpapers, the frontispiece, and the interior title:

On the inside I wanted to continue the them of ostentatious luxury, so the dropcaps are very elaborate. And the textbreaks are thematically appropriate chains:

So, this is a tiny book, letter-octavo sized. I have a terrible time telling how big are books in photos, so I'm experimenting with some comparisons:

Obviously the ruler is most accurate, but the shell is aesthetically appealing :)

I'm thrilled to have pulled of this cover! There was a lot of fucking around and finding out. @sroloc--elbisivni has their copy and has graciously allowed me to share with everyone online. Thank you wonderful author! I greatly enjoy this story, hopefully a bit of fanart tells you how much!

Also located on A03 here.

[specialsituationsgroup]

Lego Discworld - Patrician's Palace

Patrician's palace exterior with Ankh-Morpork coat of arms. Giant beehive / pidgeon roost / clack's tower on roof. Statue of old Stoneface and hoho in front. City catacombs under the surface.

Palace interior with secret passage. Palace garden with lilac bush and BS Johnson's exploding fountain. Ginger tom and unprofitable butterfly.

Patrician's palace, closed, front.

Havelock Vetinari, Wuffles and Igor in the puke green room. Includes candle stub on nightstand and candle stick hidden in the chest of drawers.

Mr Pump in Vetinari's study. Incudes a crossword puzzle/thud board, music sheet and the manuscript of The Servant.

Leonard of Quirm, Sybil Ramkin, Erol and Rufus Drumknott in Leonard's atelier. Includes the model of the Kite, device for removing mountains, internal combustion kettle, scultping and painting equipment, and Vetinari's portrait.

Library / secret passage. Includes Oswald, modle of the disc and a death mask / head for young Vetinari.

The low king of Dwarves in the Oblong office. Includes Vetinari's and Drumknott's desks, "world's best boss" mug, and dog biscuit.

Commander Vimes, Angua von Uberwald and lord Rust in the Rat's chamber. Includes sprig of lilac, old Stoneface's axe, and Angua's collar / stygium ring.

Otto Chirk and palace guard in the waitng room / entrance / throne room / ball room. Inclues Vetinari's clock and the gilded throne of Ankh.

Palace Cook / Glenda Sugerbean / Grace Speaker / Interchangable Emma and food taster / Young Sam in the Kitchen. Includes bread, water and hardboiled egg. Roasting salmon, caviar and goblet of blood. Wine, cheese and a spoon.

Foul ole Ron and Rincewind in the treasury. Includes snake and scorpion. Paper money, Agatean gold coin and a head of cabage.

Tears of the mushtoom and Detritus in the saferoom / bathroom. Includes matress and shaving equipment. Bathtub, chamber pot with nightsoil, and shoft lavatory paper.

Moist in the janitor's closet / botomless pit. Includes trap door and chain for mimes. Stoker Blake's shovel and the Sweeper's broom.

Death / mime and death of rats / rat spy in the dungeon. Includes barred door, Dwarven locks, and a plaque inscribed learn the words.

Possible minifig permutations, with acessories:

Charlie, assasin Vetinari, Patrician Vetinari, Stoker Blake

Drumknott, Vetinari, Adora Dearheart, Albert Spangler.

Vimes under the Summoning Dark, young constable Vimes, Commander Vimes, Sargent Keel, Sir Samuel the duke of Anhk.

BLT Sybil, Dragonbreeder Sybil, dwarf opera Sybil.

Buggy Swires, Nobby Nobs, Fred Colon, Angua von Uberwald, Carrot Ironfounderson. Commander Vimes, Reg Shoe, Cuddy, Cherry.

Groat, Moist, Stanley

Ponder Stibbons, Mustrum Ridcully and Rincewind

Mrs Rosie Palm, lady Sybil Ramkin, madam Roberta Mersole

Otto Chirk, Margolata von Ubervald, dragon king of arms

Dragon king of arms, lord Rust, mr Pin and mr Tulip, Reacher Gilt, mr Slant, lord Downey

Low king of dwarves, Bashful Bashfullson, Cuddy, Cherry

Buggy Swires, Tears of the Musroom, Of the lathe the swarf

[labuenosairesfrancaise]

Palais Albert Rothschild

Hi guys!!

I'm sharing the Palais Rothchild from Vienna. 

House History: The Palais Albert Rothschild was a palatial residence in Vienna, Austria. It was one of five Palais Rothschild in the city that were owned by members of the Rothschild banking family of Austria, a branch of the international Rothschild family. It was located at Heugasse 26, Vienna. Commissioned by Baron Albert von Rothschild, it was designed and built by the French architect Gabriel-Hippolyte Destailleur between 1876 and 1884, and demolished in 1954.

Family History:  After the annexation of Austria by Nazi Germany in 1938, the Rothschild family was forced to flee and went into exile in England. Almost immediately, the Nazis turned their attention to the Rothschild art collections, which were the largest and most valuable Jewish-owned art collections in Austria. The treasures of Baron Louis von Rothschild, composed of paintings, statues, furniture, books, armour and coins, were all seized and removed from his house at Theresianumgasse, prior to the Gestapo commandeering the building as its Vienna headquarters. Baron Albert von Rothschild was forced to sign a document giving his consent to the art collection's confiscation, plus the appropriation of all Rothschild assets in Austria by the German government, in exchange for his brother's release from Dachau concentration camp and safe passage for them both out of Austria.

Demolition: In 1954, the palace was torn down. Any items of value that were still left, such as chandeliers, woodwork and fireplaces, were sold off to the Dorotheum auction house at a minimal price, well below their actual value. The stairs and pillars of marble were sold to an Italian; the rest of the stone-work was simply destroyed, and the ornate iron fence and window grillwork were sold for scrap. The richly gilded stucco was ripped down: efforts to reclaim the gold-leaf proved uneconomic.

More info: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palais_Albert_Rothschild

------------------------------------------------------------------------------INTERIORS

You will find several rooms to decorate. The most amazing part of this house is de stairs hall, which turns out pretty well :)

I did finish exteriors, but interiors are for you to decorate on your own taste. I just completed some rooms to give you an idea. 

This house fits a 64x64 lot. It has many  rooms, a set for private apartments, a gilded ballroom, a service sector and a gree house. 

You will need the usual CC I use: all of Felixandre, Tha Jim, SYB, Regal Sims, etc.

Please enjoy, comment if you like it and share pictures with me if you use my creations!

[tinyozlion]

“And Its Name is επυον”: Where Did Epyon Come From, Literally and Figuratively?

On the pillars before the Oracle of Delphi, the navel of the ancient world, an inscription carved read: “know thyself”. 

Inside the Oracle’s inner sanctum sat the Pythia, bent over smoking fissures in the temple floor, breathing the sacred poison that would let Apollo in. It is a dreadful ecstasy– dangerous, body-wracking; gaining knowledge of the future shortens hers. 

Far in the future, a man exiled to a gilded oubliette speculates his own worth and relevance to history, surrounded by ghosts, becoming a ghost himself. Alone with his doubt, he looks for the god in the machine, seeking answers: “Why do we fight? For what should I fight?”

But the god he built is silent.

The world of automated warfare becomes increasingly bleak and devoid of reason. He is terrified that the pilots who so inspired him will lose their purpose just as he has, and join him in miserable freefall. 

Out of this wild abyss Treize builds the Epyon. Not for himself–  he will never pilot it. There is almost nothing of Treize in this suit, not that we can recognize from its exterior. It is not the heroic Tallgeese with its Attic crest– it is something clawed, stygian, one of the bat-winged Erinyes with a torch and whip. 

Epyon is not a weapon; it is a punishment. It is retribution for a world that has forgotten its humanity, its rites, its propriety. For its pilot, it is a scourge– the cracking whips of the Furies in their brain, driving them into a frenzy. Madness. Holy poison, to let the future in. 

Its name, επυον, is meant to mean "Next", or “After”. 

To guide the future, you must shorten yours. 

You must not be a victor, when you pilot this suit. 

Where did Epyon come from, in the mind of its creator? Everything we see of Treize forms a cohesive aesthetic: Roses, swords, romanticized old-world decadence, heroic motifs, gold, blue, white, red. Where did this thorny, tyrian-purple chimera live in him? Shouldn’t we have seen it lurking somewhere? Or does it seem to come out of nowhere precisely because he designed it to be his antithesis? 

Whether or not “Frozen Teardrop”, the novelized sequel to Gundam Wing, can be considered canon is a source of contention amongst many fans, but looking at it purely as a way to judge script-writer Katsuyuki Sumizawa’s intentions when he wrote the series, I find many parts of it to be informative. 

To paraphrase the fan-translation, it states that Treize found blue and white to be emblematic of heroism, colors associated with victory, and so their complementary opposites, black and red, could be seen as the colors of the defeated, associated with loss. For Treize, defeat and loss are tied inexorably to his vision of the future: “it was the defeated who changed the era and began the next”, as it says in the novel. 

Epyon is meant to negate the ideal of the conquering hero, the counter for a world beset by victorious cowards who command legions of dolls to do their killing and dying for them. As Treize designed it, Epyon has no projectile weapons; it is a suit purely for one-on-one combat, a suit that demands you risk everything when you fight.

No surprise then, that he gives it to the first Gundam pilot he meets– remarkably, the one whose self detonation caused everyone in his orbit to question their involvement in the war-- though one gets the feeling that any of the pilots would do. Treize hopes that Heero will use the Epyon to navigate the chaos to find the true purpose he is fighting for, and determine what course the future will take. 

But Heero has never been concerned with this sort of navel-gazing, and has no interest in discovering whether or not battle itself has a grander purpose or ultimate meaning. He fights the enemy in front of him and will continue to do so until either his life, or the supply of enemies, runs out. Heero does not overthink the future; he does not dwell on consequences. Treize does nothing BUT overthink the future and consider the fractal spread of consequences. They are mutually incomprehensible to each other, but perhaps not at cross purposes. 

Heero enters the cockpit convinced that he is expendable and redundant, that his only goal is to survive. When he returns from his test flight in Epyon, he can barely stand or speak. From that point on, he thinks about the future, about who and what will be important for what comes after the fighting has ended.

Eventually, the Epyon passes to the only person more disillusioned and estranged from his sense of purpose than Treize is– to Zechs, where it seems it was always meant to go.

• How And When Was Epyon Built?

Whew! Now that the metaphysical stuff is out of the way, let’s talk about the physical development of Epyon, and how that must have come about.

As we know, after his confinement by Romefeller, Treize, lurking around with the lights out and questioning his place in the universe, uses his now copious free time to build this gundanium dominatrix using only his laptop and the power of depression.

Now, even if we are to accept that Treize is a programming and engineering savant on top of all his other accomplishments, it would still be beyond even His Excellency’s considerable talents to pull an entire Gundam out of a hat in the basement of an abandoned Disney castle. 

Where did he get the gundanium? The crew? The construction equipment? Isn’t he under house arrest? Why would Romefeller leave him unsupervised to build a demon robot that predicts the future? 

These questions have been annoying the fandom since 1995. But, if you look carefully (VERY carefully, one might even say obsessively), it's possible to find the connective threads that make Epyon’s construction less of a magic trick. 

--Let’s go through the list of these unclarified canonical whoopsie-daisies in order of most to least glaring!:

If Treize is being kept in confinement in the Romefeller headquarters, why is he allowed to design and build a mobile suit?

*:･ﾟ✧ Our princess is in another castle! *:･ﾟ✧

The mansion that Treize goes into during episode 27 is NOT the castle that we see him in during episode 34. This switcheroo would probably have happened sometime in the MIDDLE of episode 27– which I guess might as well be the case, since episode 27 is a dreamlike, nonlinear stroll through Treize’s spiraling existential crisis.

Between Treize being confined in the Romefeller headquarters and developing the Epyon, Treize is in fact liberated by the Treize Faction and moved to the blue-roofed castle in the middle of the forest near the Luxembourg Base, which is where the faction has made their headquarters.

Presumably the crew and equipment needed to actually manufacture a new mobile suit were available at the base.

Treize’s confinement at this point is largely self-imposed; he could rally the factions loyal to him and make a move on Romefeller (as he does later), but he doesn’t believe he has the ability or the right to do so. Instead, he builds Epyon, and just kind of winds it up and lets it loose on the world to see if anything interesting happens.

And it does! The interesting very much happens.

Where did Treize get the gundanium alloy to build a Gundam?

The shipment of gundanium that Heero destroys in episode 4 was being transported on an OZ carrier, and it had to have been going somewhere. This gundanium was ordered WAY before Zechs’s gundam rebuilding project, so its purpose is left unidentified– someone in OZ clearly wanted to experiment with this new material for developing mobile suits. 

Adding to that, the gundanium that Zechs had access to when he was rebuilding the Wing Gundam had to come from somewhere, and that somewhere was probably the very deep pockets of a guy who likes to keep his best friends happy.

Regardless if any given shipment of gundanium made it home in one piece, what it means is that OZ has a way of obtaining gundanium, and if OZ has it, then Treize has it.

How would Treize know how to build a Gundam?

During the process of rebuilding the Wing Gundam from the ground up, Zechs and his engineers would probably have kept extensive records and made new Gundam blueprints that Treize would know about. Also by this point in the series, several Gundams and their pilots have been captured, and the Gundam’s engineers forced to build Vayeate and Mercurius for Lady Une. OZ would therefore have all the data they need to build a fresh Gundam, and once again: if OZ has it, then Treize has it.

Okay, but how would Treize know enough about the ZERO system to be able to reverse engineer it?

As mentioned in the entry about the ZERO system, the AI of the Taurus mobile suits eventually becomes the Mobile Doll AI. This is a predictive battle algorithm OZ already had in the works long before the Wing ZERO was discovered. 

Additionally, Treize is likely to have had access to the data being recorded by Trant while his team was researching the ZERO system, even if he was getting it covertly via a Treize Faction infiltrator, or a member of OZ who was still loyal to him. 

How does Treize know so much about designing mobile suits and their cockpit systems?

One has to remember that Treize was the instructor at Lake Victoria Base (the same position Noin holds when we first meet her in the series), responsible for training OZ’s elite pilots, and (according to “Frozen Teardrop”) involved with crucial tactical developments and improvements to OZ’s lineup. 

Yes, he’s a fancy-pants aristocrat, but you can’t say he doesn’t know his way around a mobile suit. He’s best friends with Zechs, after all– nerds of a feather flock together.

But how would he know to program the security system to accept Heero Yuy?

Well, ever since he was captured and hospitalized Heero’s biometric data would have been on file with the Alliance military, and therefore available to OZ, and therefore (again) available to Treize– so by now His Excellency will have certainly been made aware that Heero’s bones run on a third-party Adobe Photoshop plug-in.

But who cares about that crusty old data? All of the Gundam pilots have been accounted for and fingerprinted and scanned and microchipped up in Fortress Barge! They could probably 3D print Heero Yuy out of PLA and sell action figures if they wanted.

As to why Treize picked Heero specifically, I have two theories:

The first is that he simply programmed the computer to accept any and all Gundam pilots that might want to drop in for tea and assassination (and probably Zechs too, just in case he was in town).

The second is that Dorothy’s presence in the Sanc Kingdom means that Treize has a little bird keeping him informed about everything happening there, including that both Heero and Quatre are attending the Peacecraft’s School for Wayward Radical Pacifists. 

True, Dorothy is technically there to be her grandfather Duke Dremail’s little bird informant, but Dorothy’s loyalties are her own, and she very much likes and respects her cousin Treize. She’s probably beaming news of the Gundam pilots directly to him on their shared eyebrow-frequency the whole time she’s there.

Eyebrow-to-eyebrow communication.

As one final note– I’m aware that the more recent manga adaptation, “Glory of Losers”, contains its own version of events that attempts to reconcile the building of Epyon with other events in the series. However, while I appreciate that they made an attempt to resolve the big, lingering Epyon Questions, I find that like most of their retconned material involving Treize, I… 

I don’t like it. 

Or to put it less personally, I think it creates an even more dubious timeline of events that is somehow less credible than the original. In this version, Treize begins the planning and construction of both Epyon and Tallgeese at the beginning of the series, before the original Tallgeese has even been brought into play and LONG before the ZERO system is introduced– somehow with the foreknowledge that these suits will be vital for the development of the new era. 

I think this is a contrived way of making Treize into an omniscient puppet master who was retroactively steering everything in the correct direction from the very beginning, and was therefore always right and always assured of his role in the future– and I think that does his character an incredible disservice. In a story about the deep significance of changing people’s hearts and minds, the fact that Treize is retroactively scrubbed of his flaws and morally questionable decisions runs counter to the central thesis of Gundam Wing, and what has made it such a memorable story. 

“Glory of Losers” is a beautiful manga and I do think it does an incredible job of presenting the rather garbled narrative of the series in a new light, with some truly masterful tweaks that add depth to the characters and story. But it’s also guilty of some egregious changes to canon that serve no purpose other than to reconcile the main series with the events of “Frozen Teardrop”, and as an excuse to redesign all the mobile suits to be cooler and sell more model kits.

…On the other hand, in this version of the story, Treize was already familiar with Tallgeese from his earliest days in OZ. 

This is obviously another very unnecessary and suspiciously convenient retcon that I feel is in dubious taste– HOWEVER: it does mean that Howard gets to meet young whippersnapper Treize Khushrenada, who just so happened to be the one to ask him to paint it white because he thinks one day he’d like to pilot a Big Damn Hero Machine himself, and he wants it to be a more "elegant color." 

And that is the funniest shit I can possibly imagine. So I’ll give it that.

I'd like it to be at least 20% more elegant

[snek-panini]

I participated in Renegade Bindery's Binderary challenge this past February, and since it ended about two weeks ago it's probably time for me to start posting photos of the finished books, yeah? I made eleven books this year, many of which were multi-volume sets, and I'm going to start with the one that I had the most trouble with, Jane Austen's Persuasion. This project was nothing but trouble, and honestly every time I look at it I see nothing but its flaws. The cover is Allure book cloth from Hollander's (wisteria color; I bought it for another project last year and had a lot left over) with gold metallic HTV for the title and graphics. The last project I did with these materials was a dream; the cloth took HTV like a champ, better than any other project I'd done, and yet this time with the same roll of cloth and type/brand of HTV I couldn't get it to stick. You can see two spots where it's gone on crooked in the above photo, and below the cut you can see additional problems with the spine:

Yikes. It is peeling. I read the book once and it is peeling. I've never had this problem before; it won't always stick at first, but once I get it to stick it stays that way. Not this time.

Top view, with the endbands I sewed that have their cores visible. Again, not a problem I've had before but was a recurring theme this binderary; several of my Binderary books have it. Also platinum silk moire endpapers that were really hard to photograph and have both a wrinkle and a glue stain. It's my first time working with silk moire and I'm not sure I'm a fan, but three of the other books I made also have it and I didn't have nearly so may issues with them. So I think this book may have just been cursed. It's not pictured but the ribbon bookmark developed some kind of mysterious dark smudge in the middle somewhere between me gluing it in and me taking these photos. I do not know how this happened. The gilding went well though. That I can say.

Couple of images of the typeset. I had to print the title page twice because it came out streaky the first time. I actually really like the typeset, which is what makes the rest of the issues with this bind so frustrating. It's pretty! I did well on that part! I wanted the exterior to be just as pretty and I'm upset that it's not!

Fun fact: Persuasion was actually my least favorite Austen when I first read it. But I was in my early twenties then, and I thought it would be fun to bind myself a pretty copy since I didn't own one, and reread it and maybe have different feelings about it now I'm on the other side of thirty. And I did reread it after binding, and I do like it better, and I'm sad that the exterior parts didn't turn out as well as I had hoped. Half the reason I bind public domain stuff is so I can show off my skills to IRL people who aren't in fandom, and not have to explain what fanfiction is or why it has so many dicks in it, and there were so many issues here that I don't even want to do that.

The good news is that this was the low point of binderary and most of the other books gave me results I like better. I'm still doing titles for a lot of them, so we'll see how fast I can get them done and photographed, but I've definitely got more books in store in the near future.

[ladyinbooks]

Ok, so a little while I reblogged the work of the phenomenally talented @dashka12, who had created the most stunning binding of Icarus, Burning. It is seriously gorgeous, and if you haven't seen @dashka12's original post, go and shout some well deserved praise on it now, because oh my word is the binding fantastic.

Afterwards, Dashka got in touch and very kindly offered to send me a copy as well. The binding arrived yesterday evening (and no, I am not going to be normal about this now, so you're warned).

OH. MY. GOSH.

So, firstly I had a meltdown and a little cry when I opened the parcel (it really is stunning - I'm not exaggerating, it's stunning).

The richness of the cover, the gold leaf and the wonderful, dreamlike galactic interior. I said it to @dashka12 - it feels so very Samiel to me somehow. Dashka's combined that sci-fi feel with something that is far more mythological, and created utter beauty. (And I forgot to take a picture of the mask on the back cover, but IT'S PERFECT.)

But then:

I realised that not only was there a copy of IB, there was also another wrapped parcel that had been sent as well. I initially assumed perhaps IB had been split into two volumes, but... no. I'll give you a clue what the other parcel was:

YOU SEE WHERE THIS IS GOING, RIGHT?!

Look at it. Look. It's sheer and total and wondrous perfection.

There is something so very, very Hess about this binding, and @dashka12 has captured it beautifully. That heavenly, stunning angelic exterior; the demonic interior leaf pages. The beautiful gilded pages and the biblical feel of the whole binding - I just. I can't. I don't have words to describe it, or do it proper justice, because I'm actually speechless with how much I love it. All I can say is it's been twenty-four hours, and I still can't stop looking at it (or IB, either).

Look, I'm going to be completely honest: when I saw what @dashka12 had created I really did cry. For someone to create such beautiful work - such art - from something I wrote, means so much to me. To be able to hold books - actual books - that sprang from my fics honestly just blew me away. For the first time, something I'd written felt oddly real, in a way I can't really explain (possibly my olde schoole brain still equates physical books with being a Genuine Author somehow).

So thank you, @dashka12. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Your creativity and your talent are phenomenal; your kindness even more so. You've given me something priceless with these, and I can never thank you enough.

(And yes, both books are now sitting in pride of place on my bookshelf - right next to my 18th C. copy of the Iliad. Take that, Homer - you only wish you looked this good.)

[simverses]

Tomarang Palace Build Sets

To be able to recreate the Tomarang Deco Palaces I also made sets with building items:

Tomarang Palace Build Set Part 1: Walls and Floors

4 floors, stone coverings for your palace

7 walls, stone/plaster combos with a splash of gold :)

Tomarang Palace Build Set Part 2: Doors, Windows & Shutters

2 doors

3 windows (2 with stained glass, one without glass)

Special shaders, to hang on the outside of the windows for a decorative effect and to protect your sims from the hot Tomarang sun

Tomarang Palace Build Set Part 3: Stairs, fences, railings, trims, deco

2 stairs

1 spandrel

2 railings

1 frieze

1 foundation (golden)

2 fences

3 exterior trims

1 column

1 floor (oops, should have been with the other floors :) )

Tomarang Palace Build Set Part 4: Palace Deco Objects

A few deco elements separated from the Tomarang deco palaces to use in your builds. Buttresses, towers, deco pillars.

Tomarang Palace Build Set Part 5: Pillar Deco Set

This is a special, posh, build set, made from a deco pillar from Settlers 6 - gilded, luxurious:

Converted from Settlers 6 and edited.

a deco pillar (the original item)

a column (functional)

stairs

spandrel

fence

railing

Download:

Tomarang Palace Build Set Part 1: Walls and Floors (Curseforge)

Tomarang Palace Build Set Part 2: Doors, Windows & Shutters (Curseforge)

Tomarang Palace Build Set Part 3: Stairs, fences, railings, trims, deco (Curseforge)

Tomarang Palace Build Set Part 4: Palace Deco Objects (Curseforge)

Tomarang Palace Build Set Part 5: Pillar Deco Set (Curseforge)

[rabbitenn]

MATCHUP FOR @al-is-my-pal

hello, hun, and thank you very much for requesting ! your info is super detailed, so thank you for that too, it helped me determine your best match <3 (you seem like a v cool person btw !)

anyway, i really hope this is to your liking and i apologize that it took me a while to be able to get to it !

your idolish7 match is someone who encompasses the bubbly side you show when you’re with your loved ones. similarly to you, he really is a people’s person, wanting to know more about his friends and become closer to them. he is a romantic at heart, and he’s not shy to show it, which means he, like you, often expresses the beauty he finds in the mundane. he is someone who knows what it feels like growing up with not many close friends too, thus he loves fiercely and kindly.

so? do you already have an idea of who i’m talking about? hehe ~ come along, friend, he seems to have a confession to make…

♡ ROKUYA NAGI

Okay, so, I do genuinely believe Nagi is a really good match for you. You mention you struggle with social anxiety and your confidence, and honestly? There’s few people better than Nagi at making others feel appreciated and confident about themselves.

Don’t be fooled by his flashy exterior, because Nagi definitely understands emotions deeply. So when you’re overthinking and mulling things over, he notices right away. With a gentle tone, it is not uncommon for him to take your hands in his, deep sapphire eyes full of reassurance as he prompts you to lean on him.

Nagi also would be amazing at helping you get out of your shell more. His charm is truly magnetic, making you feel like you’re stepping into a magical world every time he encourages you to go out with him to try something new. How could you ever say no to his alluring winks, huh?

In terms of hobbies and interests, you two are pretty similar as well.

And isn’t it nice, to spend the evenings cuddled together, watching anime, while you work on your drawings and his arms are wrapped around you?

—

To anyone else, the bright and sparkly pinks of his room might come off as gaudy.

To you, however, they meant peace. A warm kind of calmness, where worries tended to melt away.

Your boyfriend’s tv is on, the ads previous to the show you await, nothing but white noise as your back rests against his chest.

Tablet in hand, you keep adding new shades to your masterpiece, roses and golds merging beautifully, an interlude of spring and summer on your fingertips.

Nagi’s chin rests on your shoulder, his arms circling your waist comfortably, sky hued gaze mesmerized by the movements of your pen.

“Is that Cocona, my girl?” He asks, tender smile on his lips.

You chuckle, hand still expertly adding color to your artwork.

“You always catch on quick when it comes to Cocona, don’t you?” You tease, tilting your face slightly to meet his gaze.

For a few seconds, you feel as if you had been put under his spell. You had always found him unarguably stunning, but something about seeing your boyfriend so at ease right now causes a million golden butterflies to spread their wings in your stomach, a comforting caress to your heart, as they flutter warmly.

You don’t know if he reminds you of distant gilded stars upon snowy skies or of the summer sun sometimes, but you’re completely entranced by his princely features as he smiles.

His lashes flutter closed for an instant, then:

“Well, she is my second favorite, after all.” He says, a knowing glint in his eyes.

You raise an eyebrow.

“Your second favorite? Nagi?” You let out a laugh. “Since when isn’t Cocona your number one?” You question, disbelieving, as you set your drawing supplies aside. “Has a new anime character stolen her spotlight?” You gasp, eager to know who your boyfriend’s talking about.

“Hmm… I wouldn’t say they’re from an anime, though I would certainly watch it if that were the case.” He smiles, expression soft.

“Then who is it? You’ve gotta tell me!” You beg of him, tugging on his sleeve, as you stand on your knees over the couch, excited.

He gives you one of his charismatic smiles, and you swear right now, no portrait you or anyone could ever paint would do Nagi justice.

“I’m looking at her right now.” Your lover announces, leaning a little forward.

Intently, you glance around his room, trying to discern which one of his non-Cocona figurines could be his most beloved.

However, an airy chuckle interrupts your actions.

“My dear, you won’t find her unless you look in a mirror.” The charming idol playfully says, tone brimming with affection, as his slender fingers cradle your cheek.

“Oh.” You breathe out. Heat rises to your cheeks, your chest, though it is not unwelcome.

He smiles sweetly, thumb tracing small circles over your cheekbone.

“That’s right, my darling.” He holds your chin in between his fingers, guiding your gaze to his, as if you weren’t already completely under the Northmarean prince’s charms. “You’re my favorite, always.”

Then, he leans in, hands cupping your face, taking you by surprise at first. A few moments pass, with his lips on yours, as you kiss him back. And even though this isn’t the first time, there was always something that felt like discovering a wrapped gift every time you kissed him.

Sweet and playful, tender, yet brimming with passion; to kiss Rokuya Nagi feels like making a wish upon the northern lights; so magical, laced in mystery despite all the brightness, luring you deeper into the firmament of all the love he holds for you.

By the time Cocona’s opening song starts playing on the tv, your lover’s lips are still on yours.

You have a few more instants, you both know that song by heart, after all.

—

You mention you have a soft and gentle energy, which, to be honest, matches Nagi’s quite well. Yes, he is extroverted, incredibly charming and has a flair for the dramatic, but he loves his friends (and especially you) more than anyone else. He’s always there for everyone, managing to shine a little light when they’re feeling down. That, of course, includes you. But in turn, your kind and considered nature would make him see that someone is really there for him in times of need. By your side, he feels like he can let himself speak about what’s burdening his mind.

In the matter of your more bubbly and silly side that you show when you’re with close friends, Nagi would really be the perfect person to make you embrace it more. He can be very silly himself sometimes (affectionate), so in the moments you’re together, it’s not rare for you to let yourself be more free.

Your willingness to listen to people and learn about them pairs well with Nagi’s demeanor as well. We all know he adores anime and will talk about it with anyone who is okay with listening. So, having chats about his favorites with you, where you’re actually listening to everything he rambles about means the world to him. The sparkles in his gaze and the grin on his lips truly are precious.

In terms of more hobbies of yours, you two have more than just your love for anime in common.

Your love for music and singing is something he shares too, and he’ll be so, so happy to sing songs with you! And if you teach him how to play cello? He falls in love with you even more, if that was possible.

He’d find it so endearing how you love stuffed animals as well, plus he’s totally into the princess, angelcore and soft aesthetics you like!

Also, I can definitely picture you too having tea and some sweet treats while you game together or watch anime.

Regarding what you look for in a s/o, Nagi pretty much meets all the requirements. He’s kindhearted, will listen to you, always, both to the good things and the bad ones; his bright demeanor is enough to make you feel warm, as if things will turn out for the better, the reassuring affectionate words he speaks, making you feel safe every time.

Focusing on your mbti type now, Nagi is an enfp, which can help you (isfj) to develop your creative, dreamy side more. In turn, you, as an isfj, could help him prioritize work when he has to (and sleep, because if you let him, he’d spend the night watching Magical Cocona /lh but /srs).

As a 9w1 enneagram, you’re hardworking and modest, and while still friendly, you know how to be serious when needed, which pairs well with 7w6 (Nagi’s enneagram type) more enthusiastic and adventurous nature (and it goes both ways, you both complement each other).

You, as a libra, are more reflexive, considering various sides and outcomes before acting, whereas gemini (Nagi’s sign) are good conversationalists, smart and with a bit of a dual nature. Both yours and his characteristics make for a pretty solid pairing.

Summing it up, you and Nagi would make a very sweet couple, in my opinion. Both your personalities would get along well together, additionally to him being what you say look for in a partner.

♡ RUNNER UP: IZUMI MITSUKI

Like with Nagi, Mitsuki fits everything you look for in a lover; he undoubtedly has a kind heart, and who wouldn’t feel comfortable next to a sunshine like him? He’s excitable and energetic, without it being overwhelming.

Mitsuki is another great candidate to help you get out of your comfort zone more too. He has a knack for encouraging others, so you feel at easy when you do something new and he’s by your side.

There are moments, however, when he can feel like he’s not enough, and it’s in these instances when he has you to lean on. You try to always be there for others, doing your best to make them happy. And the truth is Mitsuki’s smile is worth everything when he looks at you with tender eyes.

Mitsuki loves idols, especially zero, and since you’re studying music and are into singing, I can easily imagine you two doing karaoke or singing some of zero’s songs (since Mistu is a fan).

He finds your quiet passion and ability to see the beauty in everything very endearing and adorable. He’s so cute when he gets lost in you with a lovestruck smile hehe.

[wildler]

“What did you do to me?” I gasp, my hand pressed against my chest as I pull myself to my knees.

He doesn’t answer. In fact, he doesn’t even look as though he’s heard me. His dark gaze is latched onto the hand he had wrapped around my throat a moment ago. “It’s not possible,” he murmurs, “The only being that can take corporeal form in this realm is me.”

I make an effort to get myself upright, coughing on a large breath as it burns my throat. “What about those things?” I wheeze, pointing to the bone coloured dust on the floor.

He tears his eyes away from his hand and shakes his head. “Wraiths aren’t fully corporeal when they leave the Under Realms.” He looks me over, his hands flexing into fists before releasing again. I may be wrong, but I could swear he’s trying to stop himself from reaching out to touch me.

Or strangle me again.

“Where have the rest gone?” I ask.

“The rest?” His tone is loaded.

I rub at my throat, wincing at how tender the spots where his fingers dug in are. “That was the last one to come out,” I say, indicating to the giant door behind him.

He turns and the gold encircling his irises flares bright for an instant, before simmering down to a gilded glow. “Who opened this?” he demands, his intense gaze sliding back to me.

The molten heat of his eyes makes me shiver. The ache in my soul from whatever it was he had tried to do rivals the ache in my throat.

“Morgana.” He says my name like it’s a command.

I sigh, my fingers tightening protectively around my own neck as drag my gaze back to his. “I opened it.”

I expect him to be angry, but he looks confused. The gold light in his eyes gutters out. “You opened it?”

I nod, realising that I’m still pressing into the wall. I try to peel myself away, but my legs are too stiff to move.

“You—“ he falters, glancing once more back to the open door, his tone both thoughtful and dangerous. “You just opened it.”

My toes curl and I finally push myself from the wall. Stopping beside him, so we can both stare into the endless darkness on the other side of the threshold. “I could close it?” I offer, peeking sideways at him.

He frowns for a moment. His features pinching together in a way that somehow makes him look even more attractive. As though his face is made for scowling. I remind myself that he just tried to choke me a moment ago and surreptitiously sidle outside of his immediate strike zone.

My stomach clenches as he flicks a hand at the door and it swings shut, the carved symbols on its surface glowing ethereal for a moment before settling into their usual scarred exterior.

I stumble back a step, blinking rapidly. “Was that fucking magic?”

I had to be tripping.

He turns and looks me over, his dark eyes pinning me in place. “That’s me locking this,” he gestures to the door. “Try not to open it or any others while you’re here.”

I let out a shaky exhale. “No fucking way am I going to let any more of those things loose.”

He grunts, seemingly satisfied that I wont touch anything else. Then he starts off down the corridor—in the direction the other monsters had fled in.

“Wait.” I take off after him, practically having to jog to keep up with his insane strides. “Do you know if there’s a way out of here?”

He exhales through his nose in a half scoff. “For most people there isn’t one.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? “Well, where are you going?”

He glances sideways at me with palpable condescension. “To find the rest of the wraiths you let out.”

“Oh.” Fuck. I really don’t want to be there when he finds them—but something tells me I’m not going to find my way out of this place without him.

I try and keep pace with him in silence, doors slipping past on both sides. Each one is covered in the same carved scrawl. I open my mouth to ask the guy about them, when I realise he’s already looking side long at me.

“What?” I demand, my voice coming out breathless thanks to the jogging.

“You touched me,” he says, sounding suspicious.

“And you fucking strangled me,” I respond, my hand absently flying to my throat.

His gaze follows the movement, lingering on my bruised skin when I let my hand fall away. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even look sorry when his eyes meet mine again. “I thought you were a wraith.”

He thought I was one of those creatures? My apprehension evaporates at the insult and my temper spikes. “Are you seriously implying that you mistook me for one of those fucking zombie things?!” I stop walking and point back in the direction of our initial attack.

He stops too, turning a frown back at me. “Those wraiths are old, probably been dead a few hundred years each, but they can look fresh too. If you’d been dead for a few days or less you’d still look like this.” He gestures casually to my body.

I stare, wondering if I’m missing something vitally important here. “Why on earth would you straight up assume I was dead?”

He looks at me like I can’t possibly be as dumb as my question is making me sound. “Because,” he says slowly, “this is the afterlife.”

————————

When Morgana met Grim… (unedited)

Started a new project to see how ready my post-babies brain is for writing again… 20,000 words later an i think we might be looking at a novella.. (will put on wattpad after edits)

[the-arkaives]

MEGA autism rambles below the cut. heres my kai drew smfs dissertation. cuz im normal yhat way (@pastriibunz i am a MENACE)

so much (for) stardust;

and the thousand deaths of a young god.

first off this whole thing is entirely pointless if you don't listen to the song. do it. right now. you will NOT regret it.

...did it? mind blown? okay cool.

we begin on the second sentence of the song; "burning myself down, burning myself down, burning-" on a funeral pyre. kai drew burns away like gilded plastic and we see that she holds the match to her lips. and we see she is burning alive. and we see the people around her. "i need the sound of crowds or i can't fall asleep at night, i can't take my thoughts and i, i can't take my thoughts and i am awake." kai is blazing spotlights burning at a pyre for the media and she looks up and smiles and waves for the fans. she chose this fate, she says. she bears it. do not pity her, she pleads. it is to keep those around her warm. it's the least she could do, she lies. the adoring fans buzz around her, staticky, like a swarm of ants, and they give her respite. nearly. she is loved, isn't she? she is wanted? right? please? she provides them with warmth. the glittery stardust exterior has melted almost to the skin. it is the burnt skin of a hurt child.

pick the needle off the vinyl let it skip to the prechorus. the other parts inbetween thread her together in light strands of stardust, and you know her. "life is just a game, maybe. i'm stuck in a lonely loop, my baby." kai is always searching. kai is searching and she always ends up in the same dead-end michigan town and she leaves and she searches again, it never ends it's just her stuck in a lonely loop, and if you clip off the end of dead-end town you just get dead. she's nearly there, fingertips one aching, scrambling brush away from everything she could want. her hand misses it. again. again. again. again, again, thought we had it all, "so much for stardust! we thought we had it all, thought we had it all, thought we had it all thought we had it all thought we had it all!" she never does though. she punches the picture frames she kicks and screams she loses herself inside her glittery plastic walls that she put up herself. she wonders if god hates her. she knows she is god. she runs away. there is a hall of mirrors and she smashes a bat against each one of them, glass fragments glittering like stardust, climbs in. there is nothing for her there. (read: there is paul and there is emma oh god let them be okay oh please let them hold on. they are dead now. she stares at the corpses, moving or not, and feels her stomach twist every time. she runs again.) she runs again.

"like a sledgehammer to a disco ball, crushin' all my low- low- low- lows, ache it till you make it, ache it till you make it!" kai is fake. kai drew is a perfect shining golden girl, and she is blue and beautiful and her voice sparks like starlight, glitter like stardust splashed across her primed for the cameras skin and her eyes are dark. her eyes are mournful, human, aching brown. sometimes she feels like the minotaur in its labyrinth. she drags her perfectly sparkled gold nails across the bricks of her prison. she has never tasted sunlight. she knows the cold flash-flash-flash of television cameras. she knows cold steel microphones against her lips. she does not know the words to this song. she looks up at the cameras. she wants to plead with them. her brown eyes hold the cold light of a dying star. a star is born. she knows that she is made from stardust. she knows she is a star. she does not know how human she is anymore. she fakes it, still. the makeup feels like a mask sometimes.

"in another life, you were my babe. in another life, you were the sunshine of my lifetime." kai says to them. kai pleads to them. kai prays to them. they die anyways. kai has been dead for a long time. kai drew is a construct, made for the cameras. an idol. religious or not. maybe both. she has forgotten the name of the child in her core. she doesn't know if she's the plastic or the pain anymore, the music or the misery. the child pleads for her mother and her father. she is so young. please. kai chokes back the tears and runs again. she is looking for another life. she's looking for one where she is okay. she's looking for one where they are alive. she aches. "what would you trade the pain for?" "i'm not sure." she utters. what life would she live without all this pain? who would she be? there are burns on her hands running pink and gold and teal. she has been holding onto supernovas for far too long. the veins under her skin flow with stardust and tears. she just wants her mom and dad, man. she's a kid.

"i used to be a real go-getter. i used to think it'd all get better." kai drew is dead and an adult lays in her place a child lays in her place she inhales smoke she exhales stars a supernova erupts in her chest she swallows it down to stardust.

"so much for stardust! we thought we had it all, thought we had it all, thought we had it all thought we had it all thought we had it all!" KAI DREW lives daughter of suffering daughter of music daughter of dying stars and it has been so long since she was real and gods can never age and gods never die and she remembers one million sets of pauls and emmas and she sees one million more and they all die every time; she runs again and the world collapses around her a space drifter as the stars collide in a binary system the stars can never touch they love from afar OR they crash into each other explosion dear together parent and child and die, bright white glow beautiful take a picture like an angel's eye and kai drew is a star and she just needs to touch the other one she needs her mom and dad and the stars collide and she dies again. in doing this the stars become the most powerful things in the universe for just a few seconds as they unravel. but hey. i mean, so much for stardust. it all floats away in the end.

[vacantgodling]

hatred

wip: requiem for the monochrome / paramour ; just in that universe in general but this is more of a character exploratory piece than an actual plot related writing

character(s): lavendula calderon (hya’s younger half sister & a mc of requiem for the monochrome), hyacinthus shrapnel (but only in mention)

lavendula contemplates how her emotionless nature pales against hya’s commanding exterior.

The first time Lavendula laid eyes upon her Hyacinthus, he had been dressed more finely than her husband. Shocking amounts of gold and grandeur adorned him; gold woven lace hidden underneath a gilded silk and stark white blouse tucked into a tight white corset laced with gold. The threads of his trousers glinted with every step, the click of golden heels on the marble floor commanding. Even from behind his mouth that could spew such malice, golden grills protected his sharp canines, making every word feel more biting with the clack of them. If you didn’t know him, you feared him and even if you did, what raw power his broad shoulders could hold. He regarded her with a look one would give a dirty, disobedient child and the warmth in it, the scathe of it, was something Lavendula had never felt.

It felt thrilling, to be hated.

She practiced that same look in the mirror months after that meeting. If she too could look upon what she’d become with such disgust, perhaps she could find the courage to drag herself from it. For hours she’d grip the counter of her sink, her knuckles turning ashen from exertion, and would stare at herself. To try and warp her face until it was ugly, until it was warm, until it burned like a hot stove to the touch, and could drive away crowds with the sting of it… but no matter what it never changed. The enforced impasse of her expression was cemented by now, and it seemed nothing could make it stray.

When she walked, she held her head high, shoulders back as though a book was upon her and a rope was tugging her backwards. Her gaze was still as blank as a cloudless sky, never faltering, or perhaps frozen by time. Observing, but never engaging. Aloof, uncaring. How she longed to cry hot tears but even those of her first childbirth felt cold.

If Hyacinthus was the sun, who raged against his pedigree, then perhaps Lavendula was the moon, hidden in the shadow of it’s legacy.

[imtryingmybeskar]

Pedrotober is now Pedrovember but I've still got a few fics to share. Day 26 was Oberyn.

Oberyn x OFC (no descriptors other than having eyelashes and hair). Word count: 954. Mentions of arranged marriage, mainly this is just fluff 💜 Canon divergent and set before he meets Ellaria.

Sunlight streamed in ribbons through the stained glass of the temple, painting the floor a patchwork of colours. Oberyn subtly shifted his weight from one foot to another, the new leather boots not as comfortable as the ones he preferred to wear day to day. He picked listlessly at an imaginary bit of thread on the sleeve of his opulent marriage robes - the shining golden sun of Dorne pierced with a crimson spear a fitting analogy for how he was feeling.

Outwardly he was as calm and unruffled as ever. Inwardly he was incandescent, raging at the injustice of what his brother was about to inflict upon him. The only sign that anything was bothering him was the knitting of his black brows at the crease in the centre of his forehead, and since he had his back to the assembled congregation the only person who could see that was the Septon.

That a Septon had been invited to perform this ceremony was an insult in itself, he mused blackly. He was not religious himself and he knew not and cared less about those inclinations in his future wife. But his brother had insisted. Had said that this wedding needed to appear as legitimate and binding as possible to all of Westeros. His actual words to Oberyn had been "You have four bastard children. I couldn't care less how many more you father but you MUST produce at least one legitimate heir."

He could feel the sullen, petulant anger rising like bile in him at the recollection, showing itself in the pout of his lips and the set of his shoulders in this restrictive tunic of woven gold that his brother had picked out. Doran had organised everything, had chosen everything. Oberyn had insisted that he wanted no part of the wedding, not even choosing his bride. Spiteful, yes. But it had given him a savage sense of pride that he would not be contributing to his own gilded cage.

Speaking of...

He could the soft scrape of shoes and the rustle of fine silk behind him as she slowly approached where he stood. Oberyn trusted that his brother would attempt to make a...pleasing match for him, after all they loved each other despite their differences. But he also knew that Doran would ultimately act in the best interests of Dorne, and if that meant marrying him off to some hideously dull yet obscenely rich dowager he would do just that with no hesitation.

What if she was a coward?

What if she was cruel?

What if she was a Lannister?!

No. No he couldn't think like that. He couldn't assume the worst. He could find beauty in almost anyone, and there was no reason to think his brother would deliberately make this harder for him. But Oberyn couldn't stop the nagging worries swirling around his mind, and he knew it was because he deeply begrudged losing his liberation in this way. Because surely he would not be so fortunate as to have a wife that would understand his desire to love freely, much less some of his other...preferences.

He felt her presence next to him as she arrived at the foot of the dias where he awaited his life sentence. He turned his head away, studiously not looking at her, childish though it was. He focused instead on breathing exercises, maintaining his calm exterior, controlling what he could of the situation. He barely heard the ceremony, nor the joyful songs that punctuated it so intense was his focus on just getting through the nightmare. And when the time came for them to face each other, to speak their vows, he turned to his left with military precision and...hesitated.

She was still facing forward, her head turned from him in a mirror image of how he had been standing. Her dress was in the style favoured by the ladies of the North, but the fabrics used to make her gown were clearly Dornish and more suited for the heat. The pale cream of it was subtly woven through with golden thread to create stylised suns all over, making her glimmer and sparkle with only the smallest movements. A full veil covered her face and hair, and even if she had been facing him, Oberyn would have been none the wiser as to what lay beneath.

She turned to her right slowly, gracefully and he could see her reluctance for this rigmarole too - in how her head was bowed, in the weight of a future she had not chosen lying heavy upon her shoulders. She didn't want to be here any more than he did and that realisation softened his heart.

He noticed how she exhaled deeply, trying to release her fears much as he had. He noticed how she twisted the lace of her veil between her fingers before lifting it over her head with shaking hands. He noticed that she had long, dark eyelashes and that her eyes were still downcast. It was with the utmost gentleness that he reached out for her, his long fingers slipping under her chin to raise it softly to him, and when her eyes finally met his it felt as if the breath had been stolen from his body.

They looked at each other, the Prince and his betrothed. They stared. They gazed. In fact, they looked so long that the congregation began to shuffle their feet and the children present began to giggle and the Septon cleared his throat pointedly, yet still they went on looking. And after a lifetime and a second had passed by, when he felt as if he could breathe again, Oberyn smiled and took her hand in his.

@thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities

[alexofasinfulnature]

Sweet Rx Recipe

I am a prescription medication,

to be taken as a small daily dose,

too much will leave you morose,

not enough and you'll be lost in translation.

A gilded exterior that I chip and dispense,

never the rotted inner core,

it only had to happen once and never more,

enjoy the gold it is less intense.

So follow the Halloween honor system,

one treat per person,

or your health may worsen,

and be left another too curious victim.

[kempbell]

The Bitter Truth

'Deliberate intention and self expression are intrinsic elements of performing the Art. A conventional artist may metaphorically pour his soul into his work but us Artisans must do it literally.' - Romain Contraire, The Lavender Grimoire.

Petra was ready. On Monday, she’d been a tourist, visiting the target and drawing a rough blueprint of the floor plan on a spare handkerchief. On Tuesday, she was an artist, sketching the exterior of the building by the rose bushes in the park, making sure to pay extra attention to the windows and possible exits. But tonight she came only as herself. She smiled. Ready or not, infiltrating the national museum of Kruscany would be audacious. Even for her.

The national museum of Kruscany was a grim ballet of gold and red. Rose vines gilded golden danced around the scarlet columns supporting the exterior facade. And even now, as she looked across the building, trying to find the window she had previously marked, her eyes kept getting distracted by some previously unnoticed detail or obscenely ostentatious ornamentation desperate to steal her gaze. Artisan made. Petra noted, realizing that would make an already audacious infiltration so much harder. Finding the window, she set down from her vantage point and ran a quick inventory, patting the black grimoire strapped to the small of her back and making sure there was still chalk in the pouch next to it. Satisfied, she steeled her nerves, slipped on her porcelain mask and started to approach her mark under the clandestine cover of the night. 

Matter and energy. Blood and Soul. These were the basics of the First Art and the two fundamental parts of every spell. Petra approached the window and using her knowledge of the First Art, reached into herself, put her palm on its lock and closed her eyes. She pictured the ingredients in her mind, saltpeter, carbon, sulfur, and willed them all into existence, willing part of her soul to take material form. Matter. She felt a pull and immediately ignited, consuming a few drops of blood within her veins and summoning heat to kick start the reaction. Energy. A small explosion went out from under her hand and a lazy trail of smoke billowed from the new hole where a lock once was. She grinned. Artisan-designed windows would’ve been too hard to lockpick so Petra guessed gunpowder would have to do.

She swung open the latch and stepped through, landing silently on the museum's marble floor, setting down in an empty corridor. As much as she hated to, Petra had to admit that the building was spectacularly designed. The running motif of dancing vines carried on inwards in the form of intricate engravings all over the mahogany paneled ceilings and painted black running across the middle of each wall. The walls were painted in Krusc crimson, a color seemingly everywhere in Kostalvo, and the floors adorned with specs of gold glistening in the moonlight. Their precious galleries, Petra thought, were perhaps the only things in Kruscany that were beautiful both inside and out. To the Krusc, art and plays were like a second religion, valued almost more than human happiness. Tight waistcoats. Loose red satin shirts. It was dizzying. Petra thought things didn't need to be beautiful to have value, and a thing didn't have value simply because it was beautiful. The average Krusc thought the opposite. Regardless, she needed to focus. It was time to get to work. 

Silently jogging down the hall, she reached a turn and then screeched to a halt with all of the grace of a water buffalo the moment she heard a noise. Footsteps. Petra cringed at herself then put her back against the wall. They seemed far too loud, far too heavy. The sound of metal against marble. Either the guard was wearing metal shoes, or. She closed her eyes, reaching into herself once more, and conjured a floating eye, manifesting a shard of her soul in material form. Immediately the corridor around the bend became visible to her under closed lids. Marble. Mahogany. And at the end of the hall her suspicions were confirmed. Her heart rate spiked. A tin soldier. She quietly snapped her fingers and the eye disappeared, she needed to think. Should she risk sending forward another shard and try to possess it? No, she had to conserve esse. The footsteps grew louder. She would have to take a detour. Petra cursed, and started working on the lock of the door to the main gallery, it would be too open for her liking, but she didn't have a choice. She could hear the rising thump of her beating heart in her ears, and of metallic footsteps far too few meters away in the corridor around the bend. She fumbled with conjured picks as both noises grew louder, grew almost unbearable, until finally lock clicked open and she swiftly slid herself inside.

Petra placed her hand on her chest, breathing heavily, as the clanking of metal feet passed across the other side of the door behind her. She was expecting and had planned thoroughly for guards but tin soldiers were a different story. Soulless collections of rivets, nuts, bolts and so called Krusc ingenuity. Men made of metal built to march on when a human soldier would need sleep. Or fire at civilians when a human soldier would need to disobey.  The thought that the Sovereign Trading Company had decided to begin setting them on potential criminals too made Petra’s skin start to crawl like spiders were scuttling under it. Coming all this way for a hunch had very quickly begun to feel stupid. What if she was wrong? No, she couldn't be, she had thought this through. For several months Anton Dubois had been absent from the public eye, and the few times he was spotted he looked like he hadn't slept in days. Rumors had started to spread that the Sovereign Trading Company was planning to pull out from the East and on the same day he was alleged to sign that document, the same day the Bitter Truth arrived in Kruscany, he was miraculously healed and had decided to change his mind. The Bitter Truth had to be an oubliette. She wasn’t sure what part of his soul he had stored away inside of the diamond. Maybe he lost someone dear to him and had stored away his grief, or perhaps he had splintered away any feelings of self doubt. Either way, Petra had a hunch that returning whatever was locked in that diamond would be the key to stopping the Sovereign Trading Company once and for all.

She steeled herself and started making her way through the main gallery of the museum. The main chamber was massive and illuminated only by a huge skylight bathing the room with an ethereal moonlit glow from above. Moments in time were snatched, frozen and put on display in rows across its walls- an ode to treasures stolen from foreign lands. A painting depicting the fall of Qagnoi. An original manuscript of the Conjurer’s Lament by Contraire. A sculpture of an ancient elvish king. Moonlit specs of gold shone between her feet, their reflections scattering across her face, the walls, the ceiling, like the Krusc had stolen the stars too. She reached the end and started working on the lock and within seconds it came free with a satisfying click. Petra poked her head through the door and immediately threw herself back in. Guard! I don't think he saw me. “Stop! What are you doing here?” reverberated from the other side of the door, in a tone a bit too loud for Petras liking. She cursed, hid behind the door and waited. The moment it came open, she threw herself at the guard at a speed only an artisan could achieve, pinning him to a wall and covering his mouth with one hand and the holster of his pistol with the other. She didn't have time for this. Being spotted wasn't ideal but maybe she could use it to her advantage. Slowly and carefully she started to loosen her grip from his mouth and said, “I'm going to let go of you and you’re going to tell me how I can get to the Bitter Truth.” “And what happens if I don't?” Petra threw up her hands, starting to lose patience. “Guess.” “You’re Petra Vaughn. How many Sovereign ships will you sink before you’re satisfied? I would rather die than-” Her patience vanished. She knocked him out with a single enchanted punch and didn't bother to catch him as he fell. She knew she shouldn’t let her temper get the better of her, especially not during a job, but the Sovereign had made it personal. I need a new mask, Petra thought to herself as she snatched the keys from the guard’s belt, tried to hide him as best she could and started to make her way through the door and up the stairs.

Whatever little time she had before had just been cut in half. How long would it be until another guard making his rounds stumbled across the unconscious body? Ten minutes? Maybe fifteen? She knew it wouldn't be enough, she needed to move quickly. Reaching the top of the stairwell Petra took a stick of chalk from her pouch and started drawing the beginnings of a circle. A precaution. As soon as she finished the last, rough, rune she hesitated, stood back and winced. Good enough, Petra thought to herself as she pricked her finger and placed a bloody print in the middle of the array.  She continued onwards and stopped herself abruptly the moment she heard shuffling from the room in front of her. She was running out of time and the last thing she needed was another distraction. She had to take him out quickly. She spun around the corner, jumped into the office and stared the guard in the eyes, pushing outwards. From his perspective, he saw a scrawny girl reach for a knife and charge towards him before swiftly putting her down with a few shots from his revolver. From her perspective, she saw a frightened and tired guard stare into space as he reached for a gun from the wrong side of his belt.  The art of casting illusions was a terrifying skill indeed.  To a trained artisan, all of a man’s senses were as easy to lie to as his ears. Like a tinman, or a golem, parts of the brain too could be possessed if one knew how. The quickest routes one could take were through the ear canal, a song, or, as Petra preferred, the optic nerve- direct eye contact. Lobotomy at a glance. To her even reality was just another point of view that she happened to disagree with.

She put him down quickly. Still maintaining a connection, she gently lay him on the floor as he fell and closed her eyes.  The room around her seemed to fade away and she found herself outside a small apartment in central Kostalvo. His house? Not enough time. Petra thought to herself as she speedily flicked through his memories, searching for the keywords “Bitter Truth” and “diamond” with her will and seeing what his subconscious mind brought to her. There. She withdrew and the room faded back in full force. She stood up too quickly and immediately went lightheaded, stumbling, the colors around her seemed to shine even less vibrant than before. She’d used too much esse. Just as she was about to make her way to the location she’d extracted from his memories just a moment before, her luck seemed to vanish along with her esse. “Claude is down! Someone has broken in!” yelled a guard from the floor below.  The storage room would have to wait.

The corridors outside of the room suddenly became alive with movement. She was trapped.  The job had gone terribly wrong. She pushed her back against the wall and tried to slow her breathing but could do nothing for her beating heart. A single set of footsteps seemed to draw closer than the rest. Damnit damnit damnit. Just when she thought her situation couldn't get any worse, the faint scent of methane flashed briefly under her nose just before a fire came to life from just outside the room, its awful yellow light leaking from beneath the door. An artisan?  “Is anyone there? We have you cornered.” She started to panic, He must’ve heard the commotion from within the room and came to investigate. He stepped closer to the door.  It was meant to be a last resort, but Petra didn't have a choice. Just before the artisan turned the handle, Petra snapped her fingers and the museum shook with a violent boom as an explosion went off from the stairwell. Immediately Petra started to regret her decision. Pints of blood vanished from her veins and she was brought to her knees like a tin soldier out of charge. She felt cold. The worst, most biting kind of cold- the kind that started from within. Luckily, the explosion seemed to do the trick. She heard footsteps recede in the corridors as the artisan went to investigate a seemingly more pressing issue. For some reason, using runes seemed to take a toll on her more than any other kind of artistry.

She pushed herself to her feet with every ounce of might she had left. Through her dizzying disorientated gaze the world felt like it had been split in two with double images of every object in the room shattered across her eyes. It would take her a full week to regain this much blood back. “Come on.” she muttered to herself as she dragged herself forward, onwards, stumbling towards the storage room.

The storage room was a brutalist collage of dark grays and dirty whites. File cabinets and safes. A stark contrast to the rest of the museum, or even the rest of Kostalvo for that matter, but Petra guessed even the ‘city of roses’ must have a need for bureaucracy. She referenced the stolen memory and staggered towards the safe. As soon as I get back, I should store away my ability to feel exhaustion, she thought to herself as she put in the code to the safe. 0-1-1-2-3-5. Pretentious. She rolled her eyes as the safe swung open, revealing a small, red diamond, its faint glow only visible to her enchanted eyes. She was right. Definitely an oubliette. She had to admit it was smart, any thief foolish enough to steal from the national museum would want to sell it or at least keep it for themselves. The last thing a thief would want to do was try to break the diamond, which would inadvertently return its contents. But Petra was no thief. She was an artisan. She reached towards the diamond and immediately recoiled the instant she touched it. What was that she felt? Guilt? She reached again and the same feelings flooded her. Then it clicked.  All those countless sleepless nights she had spent awake wondering if Anton Dubois felt any remorse whatsoever for killing her father or anything his company did to the elves had been a waste. To him ‘remorse’ had just been a distraction, an unpleasant nuisance in the way of his quest for money and when it came to choosing between remorse and profit, he had made his choice. The Bitter Truth stored his conscience. Rage blossomed within her heart like a sunrise, the fury of its flames fueling her where magic had failed. She wasn't just going to cripple him by returning the shard. Anton Dubois needed to die.

[timelessdreamsprompts]

Prompt #475

The statuette is gilded in gold, but underneath the resplendent exterior is a dark secret. The black crystal it’s made of isn’t from this world and in fact comes from somewhere much more sinister.