#grace mahary

[modelsof-color]

Grace Mahary by Delphine Diallo for Vogue Portugal - April 2019

[unes23]

Grace Mahary for Vogue Germany by Greg Kandel

[knittinganddrinkingtea]

Photographed by Silja Magg for Harper’s Bazaar Arabia April 2017

[arutai]

Grace Mahary by Myrthe Giesbers

[itgirls-n-wannabes]

Xiao Wen Ju, Grace Mahary, Tilda Lindstam, Alana Zimmer & Hanne Gaby Odiele

[mortispbf]

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | forest // ninety-five

END OF CHAPTER POLL | Vote for your favorite contestants, you may choose up to three. We’ve reached the end of chapter four. Since we’re well into the story now, please keep in mind, the results of this poll will have enormous impact on the story, so choose wisely. Entrants may vote for their own characters.  Vote now!

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HIGH PRIESTESS: Solana tells me the curse has been broken. How are you… feeling? KYRIE: I’m fine. What is this about? HIGH PRIESTESS: I told you afterwards we would find some way to proceed and I have done so. This is Elion Maharis. Formerly a member of the Elune Order. As of today, he’s been assigned to your personal guard. KYRIE: You’re hiring an assassin as my bodyguard? The irony is incredible. HIGH PRIESTESS: I hardly think anyone more suitable to protect you than someone with his skillset. KYRIE: I asked you not to do this. HIGH PRIESTESS: You asked for my trust. And then broke it. Again. That’s beside the point now. We must do this, for your safety. Please, Kyrie. Don’t fight me on this. KYRIE: Why do you keep saying “please”? You’ve never asked for my permission before. Why are you acting so strange? HIGH PRIESTESS: I— KYRIE: You know something, don’t you? This is about Al. Is she— HIGH PRIESTESS: Calm down. Alphanei is alive— KYRIE: Alive? How do you know? Have they found her? Where is she? HIGH PRIESTESS: Not here. I received a letter— KYRIE: A letter? From her? Can’t I read it— HIGH PRIESTESS: No! No. You need to focus on your duties, and improving your health. KYRIE: But why— HIGH PRIESTESS: Enough! You may go. Elion. ELION: Yes, My Lady. KYRIE: What an unfortunate change of pace for you. From special operations to babysitter. ELION: I’m more than happy with my position, Your Grace. Given you cooperate, the two of us could get on famously. KYRIE: I suppose that depends entirely on you. I don’t need Elora’s trained dog biting at my heels. ELION: I wouldn’t worry about that. Though, at the end of the day, it’s not really your choice, is it? You moon brats are a special breed of vulnerable. Though, you do have your... talents, don’t you, Your Grace? And even that has its drawbacks. I wonder, what will your darling mother think when she finds out you’ve been toying with the head cleric’s thoughts? KYRIE: How do you know about that? ELION: You’re my charge. It’s my job to know everything about you now. I could… intervene in that problem, if you’d like? Make it “go away”, so to speak. KYRIE: I’m not interested in violent solutions. ELION: Violence? Now, now. I’m a very diplomatic person. Don’t be quick to judge, my lord. KYRIE: And… what would you want in exchange for that service? ELION: I told you. Simply your cooperation. I’d appreciate you not making my job any harder than it need be. We’ll be spending a lot of time together from here on out. It’s best we build some trust, no? KYRIE: I suppose we should. ELION: Excellent. Then, by all means, lead the way, Your Grace. Consider me but a shadow. KYRIE: I doubt I’ll get used to that. ELION: Everything in due time, Dear Moon.

[ek-ladki-bheegi-bhagi-si]

Chapter 1: Fateful Encounter

Vidyut x Reader

Summary- When Vidyut saw Y/N at the harvest festival, he knew he was done for, that he had found the one. Then their eyes met, and the world around them seemed to fade. Sparks flew when they danced together before reality kicked and he was forced to flee. What will Y/N do?

Echoes of Destiny | Main Masterlist | Vidyut's Masterlist

The rivalry between the Maharis and the Raajas had grown into a story of blood-soaked history, marked by whispered tales of betrayals and long-forgotten vendettas. The entire village bore witness to the animosity that had firmly taken root between the two clans. The feud had taken on a life of its own, passed down through the generations like a dark inheritance. Festivals that should have been celebrations were marred by tension, and interactions between the clans were marked by icy glares and exchanged barbs. The village, once a harmonious community, was now divided by an invisible wall of hostility. And yet, amidst the bitterness and resentment, there was an unspoken acknowledgement that the feud had become a part of their identities, woven into the fabric of their existence.

The Mahari clan, led by the steadfast and formidable L/N, was known for their exquisite craftsmanship and unwavering sense of honour. They were known far and wide for the intricate tapestries they wove, the vibrant dyes they produced, and their commitment to preserving their traditions. Their home, a grand mansion on the outskirts of the village, stood as a testament to their heritage.

On the opposite end of the village, the Raaja clan reigned under the leadership of Jammwal Raaja, a stern and commanding figure whose eyes seemed to carry the weight of the feud that had plagued their existence. The Raajas had a reputation for their unmatched prowess in farming and agriculture, their expansive fields yielding bountiful harvests that were the envy of neighbouring villages.

The tension between the clans was palpable, a heavy cloud that hung over the village like an unbreakable curse. But fate, it seemed, had its designs for the Mahari and Raaja clans…

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The course of destiny began to change on a bright morning when the sun's golden rays illuminated the sky in orange and pink. The village square was abuzz with activity as vendors set up their stalls, and villagers went about their daily routines. The air was thick with anticipation, for it was the day of the annual Harvest Festival (There are a lot of names for the harvest festival throughout India, so you can call it whatever you call it).

Amidst the bustling crowd, Vidyut found himself wandering when he stumbled upon the entrance of the Maharis’ temple. There seemed to be a garba commencing at the entrance of the temple. It was then that his eyes fell on a breathtakingly beautiful girl, dancing to the beat of the dhol. He watched as she danced at the heart of the festival, surrounded by a vibrant tapestry of colours and sounds.

It was Y/N, the Mahari Lioness, the youngest daughter of the leader of the Mahari clan. Her eyes sparkled like twin stars, and her grace was evident in every step she took. She danced with an air of effortless elegance, a living embodiment of the celebration itself. As if she could feel his gaze on her, she turned, and suddenly time seemingly stopped.

Vidyut's eyes locked onto Y/N, a surreal sensation enveloped them, and in that fleeting moment, an unexplainable spark flamed between them. A surge of unfamiliar warmth spread through Vidyut's heart, an emotion he had never before experienced.

Unbeknownst to him, Y/N also felt irresistibly attracted to the heat of their shared gaze. Her heart, shielded from heartbreak, stirred with an awakening that sent ripples of intensity through her entire being.

Amidst the bustling festivities, he found himself irresistibly drawn to her. It was as though an invisible force connected them, a thread woven by destiny itself. stolen glances.

Amidst the vibrant swirl of colours and music at the festival, there came a moment that etched itself into Vidyut and Y/N's memories, a moment that encapsulated the depth of their unspoken connection.

Amid the Garba, Y/N found herself at the edge of the makeshift dance circle, taking a break from dancing. As her eyes locked onto the rhythmic twirls and claps of the other dancers, She inhaled deeply, wanting to rejoin them as quickly as possible. Unbeknownst to her, Vidyut captivated by her had edged closer, his heart racing in sync with the beat.

As the dancers swirled and spun, the crowd momentarily shifted, creating a small gap between Vidyut and Y/N. Their eyes met across the expanse, and in that heartbeat of a moment, the world around them seemed to fade into a distant hum. His gaze flashed with recognition as he instantly recognized her. Yet the emotions that had been growing within him continued to bloom.

With a subtle, almost imperceptible nod, he extended his hand, an unspoken invitation. Her heartbeat quickened as she hesitated for a fraction of a second, torn between the thrill of the moment and the unknown identity of the man before her. But then, as if guided by an unseen force, her fingers brushed against his, their fingertips meeting in a touch that sent an electric jolt through both of them as he pulled her into the stream of dancing pairs.

And then, almost as if choreographed by fate itself, they began to move. Their steps were tentative at first, a slow dance of hesitance and vulnerability as they adjusted themselves. But with every swirl and clap, their movements grew surer, their bodies finding a rhythm that transcended the music.

In that wordless dance, every twirl and spin held a conversation that words could never encompass. Their eyes held each other's gaze, a silent promise exchanged with every shared breath. The world around them ceased to exist; there was only the music, their synchronized steps, and the unspoken emotions that flowed between them.

As the Garba came to an end, and the final beats of the music echoed in the air, Vidyut and Y/N found themselves standing at the centre of a circle of onlookers, their chests heaving and their eyes locked. It was a moment that had solidified their connection, a moment that had allowed them to communicate a feeling that words could not capture.

Amidst the cheers and applause that filled the air, Vidyut reluctantly pulled away from her gaze, his heart heavy with the knowledge that the festival's joyful chaos couldn't shield them from the realities of their divided clans. He could feel the weight of her brother's stare upon him, burning holes in the back of his head, his gaze holding a mixture of suspicion and protectiveness.

With a regretful smile and a parting glance, Vidyut hastily retreated from the dance floor, his friends pulling him along. She caught his hand waving to her before he disappeared into the festival's vibrant tapestry, leaving behind a trail of laughter and a lingering sense of loss.

Y/N, though flushed from the dance and the intensity of the moment, was determined to find the mysterious young man who had shared that electrifying dance with her. Ignoring the whispers of her friends who cautioned her against seeking him out, she set off in pursuit of the stranger who had ignited a fire within her heart.

Her quest led her through the bustling festival, where she questioned vendors (and threatened them into silence) and inquired among the crowd. Each step she took felt like a heartbeat, a rhythm that resonated with the memory of their shared dance. And then, as if guided by fate itself, she caught sight of him from a distance, his back turned as he engaged in lively banter with his friends.

Recognition washed over her, and a jolt of realization pierced through Y/N's heart. The young man who had ignited her senses and captured her heart was none other than the Jammwal warrior, the youngest son of the Raaja clan, Vidyut. Shock and disbelief mingled with the fluttering hope that had taken root within her.

Before she could make her presence known, she noticed a sudden change in his demeanour. His expression shifted from carefree to urgent, his friends dispersing as he abruptly turned and melted into the crowd, his steps quickening. Confusion etched across Y/N's face as her eyes followed Vidyut's hurried departure, and then she saw him—her brother, his gaze fixed on Vidyut, a storm brewing in his eyes.

Understanding dawned on her. Vidyut's sudden departure wasn't a choice; it was a necessity to avoid the wrath of her protective brother. The realization filled her with a mix of a sinking feeling in her chest and disappointment. But she was now certain that the connection they had shared wasn't one-sided. The dance, the stolen glances—they all meant something to him as well.

As Vidyut disappeared into the festival's vibrant tapestry, Y/N stood there for a moment, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. The weight of her family's legacy and the years of animosity hung heavy in the air, but so did the memory of their shared dance, the unspoken promise in their gazes.

With a determined exhale, Y/N squared her shoulders and turned back towards the heart of the festival. The music continued to play, the laughter and joy of the villagers creating a cacophony of celebration. As Y/N watched the people around her disregard their clan affiliations and simply dance to their heart's content, the once all-consuming rivalry between the clans seemed to lose its relevance. At that moment, reputations and differences became inconsequential in the face of pure, unadulterated moments of joy.

Amidst the vibrant tapestry of celebration, she made an earth-shattering resolution. The fleeting yet electrifying connection she had shared with the youngest Jammwal had ignited a fire within her, one that couldn't be extinguished by the divisions of the past. Her unwavering gaze held the promise of change as she thought back to their dance, stolen glances, and unspoken understanding. These moments, she decided, held the power to be the catalyst for a transformation, they were going to be the spark that was going to ignite change, she promised to herself, that would bridge the divide between the Mahari and Raaja clans.

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And that's chapter 1! What do we think?

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Enjoy 💖

[distantvoices]

Grace Mahary by Myrthe Giesbers for One Magazine July 2022

[carmddi]

One Magazine Issue 19 Grace Mahary photograph by Myrthe Giesbers modelsof-color

[panzershrike-pretz]

Enoch & Horace

Source: x x x | x x x | x x x -> song: The Hearse Song

Don't ever laugh as a hearse goes by For you may be the next to die They wrap you up in bloody sheets To drop you six feet underneath They put you in a pinewood box And cover you up with dirt and rocks It all goes well for about a week And then, your coffin begins to leak

[...]

Your brain turns into maggot pie Your liver starts to liquify And for the living, all is well As you sink further into hell And the flames rise up to drag you down Into the fire, where you will drown Your skin melts off as you descend And Satan tears you limb from limb Your suffering will never end And the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out They'll eat your guts and then shit them out And when your bones begin to rot The worms remain, but you do not So don't ever laugh as a hearse goes by For someday, you'll be the one to die And when Death brings his cold despair Ask yourself, "Will anyone care?"

- About;

- Enoch O'Connor Mahari Raskólnikov - he/him - England

Enoch's name comes from MPHFPC, as does Horace's. Enoch being a biblical name, the father of Mathusaleah. It means dedicated, trained and disciplined, which is very much what Enoch is.

Mahari and Raskólnikov, a japanese and a russian surnames were adopted by him after his parents: Hanabi and Rodion respectively. In-story Enoch chose to accept both his adoptive parents names as a way to honor them and show how graceful he was for the love he was given by them.

- Fighter

His role aboard Blithe is that of a fighter. As the name suggests, he works for defense or aid during raids; he's not all that fond of firearms or even swords - his main way of attack is by using Pax, his Hollow, as a shield or as an attacker. Due to his thick skin, size and being mostly invisible, Pax is extremely useful.

Other than that, Enoch is also responsible for sending the dead to the Other Side - that is, making an oppening so Pennydarren can guide them to their destiny, by cleaning the body and soul of those who die.

- Mordeshor (+ Shadow Speaker)

A Mordeshor (a term I got from a book, I believe it's called Winter's Magic) is a person able to see and comunicate with the dead; they stand in a thin veil between life and death - created by the Goddess of Death herself to care for souls and help the Gods. Killing one of them brings infinite doom, as their killer is cursed to die but never be able to move on to the after life.

As you can tell, Enoch's an important guy - most for the disgust of his enemies. Being able to see the dead and make their souls visible for the living, if they so desire, is one of his powers. Other than that he can do some minor necromancy by playing a flute, so dead corpses get up to follow him when he needs to move them.

Finally, he can see Creatures of Shadows, such as Pax, and talk to them by connecting to their minds. It's not something easy, because it drains a lot of energy (especially if there's no bond between the Speaker and the Creature) and, amidst a battle against the beast it's something even worse to try and talk to them.

All of it comes with some side effects; being capable of feeling what a Shadow Creature feels can take a tool on one's body, alongside increased anxiety and difficult to sleep. Spending too long inside a Hollow's brain can make someone go crazy, and it's always a fight having to control your own body and the body of a monster sepparetly at the same time. Besides, Mordeshores ates outcasts - people either fear or find them disgusting, so it's a hard deal living, especially in modern times.

Many Mordeshores consider their own powers a curse and stories say that they were never chosen to help the Goddess of Death - it was instead a blood-curse given to someone who wronged her. Athena never addressed it.

- Personality

He's very bitter, always tired and in a bad mood. Normally, the crew leave him be, doing his thing so they don't have to deal with his sassy remarks and uncalled comments. He spends too much time just cursing and being a pain in the ass.

Even if most of the time Enoch is terrible to be around with, guven his poor social skills and plain rudeness, the crew still holds mixed feelings about his company. He's useful and even if pouting the entire time, he does anything to keep his friends safe - it gets tiring to hear his voice all the time, but it's the price they pay for not shoving him to the sea and leaving him marooned.

Enoch's personality may be weird, and he knows very well that pushing people around him away doesn't make him any good - but still, he fears being abandoned again and somewhat believes that not having strong ties with anyone will be less hurtful when the time comes (even if it never will). His plan of pushing everyone away ended up failing the moment he accepted Rodion as his dad and Olive as his lil' sister (and favorite person ever).

The crew would like for him to believe that he'll not be abandoned - and he knows it, but still thinks they'll run away the first chance they get. No matter how much he says he doesn't care for them, he proves time and time again that he really does. They know that down bellow his stone-cold armor, he's just a scared kid who yearns for the love he never got. Being forever stuck in time is a hard deal for a traumatized guy.

- Funfact: Enoch is the oldest between the peculiars! He was born in 1897 and even if his body and mind are foreve3r stuck at 18, he's actually 127 years old. Pld man-

- Relationship: it's complicated 🤡👍

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-> song: I'm Still Here

I am a question to the world Not an answer to be heard Or a moment that's held in your arms And what do you think you'd ever say? I won't listen anyway, you don't know me And I'll never be what you want me to be And what do you think you'd understand? I'm a boy, no, I'm a man You can't take me and throw me away And how can you learn what's never shown? Yeah, you stand here on your own They don't know me 'cause I'm not here And I want a moment to be real Wanna touch things I don't feel Wanna hold on and feel I belong And how can the world want me to change? They're the ones that stay the same They don't know me 'cause I'm not here And you see the things they never see All you wanted I could be Now you know me and I'm not afraid And I wanna tell you who I am Can you help me be a man? They can't break me as long as I know who I am

- About;

- Horace James - he/him - England

As said before, Horace's name comes from MPHFPC. It means timekeeper (or some variation of time, such as season), which seems to go very well with his power.

Enoch calls him by the nickname Horus, the egyptian god of the skies and the living (while Enoch is the keeper of the dead 👀).

And James, his surname, was just an after thought. I had no real reason to choose it, but here it is. It's a biblical name and means "replacer".

- Tailor

Horace LOVES to make and mend clothes! He's an extreme lover of fashion and design - he was the son of a seamstress, after all, and grew up surrounded by her work. She was the one to teach him all he knows about making clothes, knotting, embroidery and sewing.

Horace carried his skills to Blithe; he's the one who makes most of their clothes (and fixes them when needed, ESPECIALLY Enoch's). Not only that, whenever they steal cloths, Enoch makes clothing to be sold wherever they make port, earning a good amount of money.

Never let him near a modern clothing store, though, he will go insane and scream at the "horrible modern clothing! What happened to common sense?? Back in my time people dressed properly! This is disgusting! Where are the dresses? And the suits and ties? People dress like they're in a carnival now!" stuff. He has MANY thoughts on modesrn clothes.

- Prophet

Horace's peculiarity is that of prophecy; he's able to see the future in his dreams - although is involuntary and he's not able to control which aspects he sees.

Even though he and Pangea share this same peculiarity, his future-seeing is more precise and only happens while he sleeps or is very tired, while her's happen in random bursts mostly while she's awake and are mores suceptible to change given probability.

Because of his peculiarity, Horace has a terrible sleep schedule, marked by insomnia. Not all of his dreams are prophecies, and he had to learn how to distinguish between them - a hard thing to do, most of the time.

He despises non-magical people who lie about being able to read the future. It's simple and pure hatred.

- Personality

Horace is a bit of a coward, but not in a bad nature. He's not suited to fight, so whenever a battle turns up, he runs and hides in fear, especially because he doesn't know how to defend himself. He's scared of a lot of things (maybe that's why he stayed alive for so long KAKAKAK).

Horace was an upper class boy when he was a kid and many of his manerisms derive from that time; he was born in the 1920's to a wealthy family and ended up being a very spoiled but polite gentleman due to his family's teachings.

He never felt good about the awakening of his powers or about leaving his family behind as the war drew closer and Miss Seagull took him under her wings. Being the youngest of three brothers, he knew his mom would be devasetaded if he lost all three - so he kept in touch, sending her letters as she grew older and he was forever stuck.

Horace is a caring boy, full of love to give. He's educated and hardly breaks any rules; to him, a strong connection between his new found family is all he needs to live a happy life - he's able to lean on them when needed and even if he's paranoic about being seen as weak and a burden, he tries his best to not let those things get to him.

- Funfact: he's absolutely obssessed with cleaning and has a gigantic phobia of germs. He and Enoch argue a lot about En's non-existent hygiene.

- Relationship: oh boy. It's a situation-

THE BOYS.

Enoch is Not Okay and poor Horace just wants to get away from him.

My Taglist: @luckynumber4 @xxluckystrike @whollyjoly @sweetxvanixlla @1waveshortofashipwreck @malarkgirlypop (please please please tell me if u want out!! I don't want to be annoying!)

[modelsof-color]

Ajak Deng & Grace Mahary by Patrick Demarchelier for Glamour US Magazine September 2015

[unes23]

Grace Mahary at Roberto Cavalli SS14

[knittinganddrinkingtea]

Grace Mahary by Silja Magg for Harper’s Bazaar Arabia April 2017

[mariaangels]

Grace Mahary photographed by Paolo Roversi 2013

[itgirls-n-wannabes]

Grace Mahary