#her clothes spread wide and mermaid like

[bernard-the-rabbit]

Her clothes spread wide and mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up. But long it could not be till that her garments, heavy with their drink,pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay to muddy death.

drawing inspired by the drawing of drowthelynes

[ID found by clicking alt on the piece]

[camcorderrevival]

HER CLOTHES SPREAD WIDE AND MERMAID-LIKE

[ Adonis, Heyser, Rimbaud ]

[youngadultmatters]

Hamlet, Act 4, Scene 7.

There is a willow grows aslant a brook, that shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; there with fantastic garlands did she come, of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, that liberal shepherds give a grosser name, but our cold maids do dead men’s fingers call them: there, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds, clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; hen down her weedy trophies and herself, fell in the weeping brook. her clothes spread wide, and, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up; which time she chanted snatches of old tunes, ss one incapable of her own distress, or like a creature native and indued.

Unto that element.

– William Shakespeare.

Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2.

Doubt thou the stars are fire,

Doubt that the sun doth move,

Doubt truth to be a liar,

But never doubt I love.

Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2.

Duvida da luz dos astros,

De que o sol tenha calor,

Duvida até da verdade,

Mas confia em meu amor.

[mmmdeliciouspaintings]

john everett millais (english, 1829-1896), ophelia (c.1851)

                        Her clothes spread wide And mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up [....]

                        But long it could not be Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay     To muddy death.

(william shakespeare, hamlet, IV.vii.150-158)

[snoffyy]

Chasm

There were creatures in the ocean. This, Yue had known all her life. Turtle seals, whale-walruses, koala otters… these were creatures everyone within the tribe was familiar with. Revered them, in a way. They gave her people food, warmth, clothing, tools. Every creature had purpose, and every purpose was thanked. Here, in the harsh, biting cold, their lives depended on it.

But there were other creatures. Stories of humans with fish tails. Translucent fins, scintillating scales, sleek, powerful muscles. They’d fascinated Yue when she was younger, and though there was enough evidence to prove these creatures were out there, most people went a lifetime without catching a glimpse of them.

Mermaids.

Every region of the world hosted them. Even in the bitter poles, they were there. Somewhere out there, at least.

Sometimes, Yue wondered if they led much more different lives than their land-dwelling counterparts.

Or, at least, Yue thought, as she clasped the betrothal necklace chained around her throat, if they led easier lives.

.

Ever since her engagement had been announced, Yue found herself wandering to the edge of the city to stare at the sunset, as if to count down the days of relative freedom she had left. It was peaceful outside of the towering walls, and the waters had always looked so pretty under the light of the setting sun.

“It’s my duty,” Yue said unconvincingly to the lapping waters. “I have to marry him. If I don’t, it will cause strife within the tribe. I have to. I must.”

The waters didn’t reply, of course.

“We can cooperate,” Yue continued. “My father wouldn’t have approved the betrothal if Hahn was unreasonable. I’m sure, at the very least, we can unite our interests in protecting the city.”

Below the waters, Yue thought she saw the shadowy mass of a seal animal flit briefly.

“The only reason my father would break the engagement is if Hahn did something truly terrible or if… I don’t know, he was accidentally killed during a hunt.”

A splash, and gentle ripples spread in a circular pattern. Yue smiled slightly. So she was correct; there had been an animal lurking within the waters.

“I shouldn’t say that,” Yue chided herself. “That’s horrible.”

.

Day after day, she returned to the waters, sometimes sitting in silence, sometimes talking about her day. More often than not, she’d unspool her thoughts about her impending marriage to Hahn. And without fail, the same animal she’d spotted that day would accompany her. She never managed to discern what animal it was, but she’d spy hints of it, from the dark mass travelling beneath the ice to the ripples and splashes it would make as if to agree with her words.

It was likely a large animal if the size of the splashes were any indication. She knew little else. Of its colouring, of its shape, of anything that could’ve given a hint as to what she was spilling her thoughts to.

One day, Yue had brought along a piece of raw meat, curious to see if it was a carnivorous animal. She’d tossed it into the water close to where she had seen the last indication of a splash before she returned home.

What a surprise it was to see the meat sitting on the ice the next day, completely untouched. As soon as she peered over the edge of the ice, a large splash caught her right in the face, the sound of a tail slapping against the water the only confirmation that it was the creature clearly miffed by her offering.

Raw seaweed? Tossed back.

Seal blubber? A tentative nibble taken out of a corner before it was left on the ice as well.

Finally, she brought a bowl of soup, setting it next to the water’s edge as if in offering.

The next day, an empty bowl greeted her.

It was amusing, in a way. Though Yue had to wonder what sort of high-intelligence animal had been keeping her company.

“What are you?” she finally asked after a week of leaving plated meals. “Who are you?”

A splash, and in the sunset, Yue stared, wide-eyed, as a long tail arched out of the ocean, water sluicing off glimmering crimson scales. It was nothing she had ever seen before. An indescribable beauty, almost otherworldly…

And then it was gone, slipping back into the water silently.

“Mermaid…” she breathed.

.

It was her secret, and it was supposed to remain her secret. Though the mermaid never fully revealed themselves, they seemed to be more comfortable with showing off their tail, lazily flicking it above the waves every so often or even giving her a glimpse as they dove into the depths.

Sometimes, if she was very lucky, she’d even see a flash of pale skin.

But she should’ve known that Hahn would grow curious. He’d been curious for a while, asking – no, demanding – to know where she ran off to at the end of every day.

She just hadn’t anticipated that he’d follow her.

“So this is what you’ve been doing every day?”

Yue paled, turning around to see Hahn pinning her with a fathomless stare.

“You’re giving our food to some animal?” Hahn scoffed. Then he seemed to remember himself, and a sickly-sweet smile spread across his face. “Sorry. I just meant, Yue, surely if you wanted to feed the animals, it’d be better to give them scraps instead?”

“They… have different tastes,” Yue managed.

“They’re just animals,” Hahn sighed. “They’ll be happy with bones. Besides, all animals are good for is for food and clothing. You know this, Yue.”

“They’re not…” Yue bit her lip. “Never mind.”

“Come on, let’s go.”

Yue reluctantly turned to head back with her fiancé, though not without gently setting the bowl of stew on the ice.

.

A week before the wedding, Hahn followed her out onto the ice again, this time with a spear.

“What are you doing with that?” Yue asked warily, hesitant to peer over the edge as she usually would.

Hahn smirked, flicking his hair out of his face. “Hunting. The wedding is in a week, and I’m supposed to provide the centrepiece of the banquet.”

“Right,” Yue said guardedly. “What are you planning on hunting?”

Her heart sank when Hahn approached the edge of the ice, the gleaming edge of the spear made sharper yet under the rays of the setting sun.

“I came out the other day at noon,” Hahn grinned. “And I saw something move underwater. It must’ve been your little friend. Red scales, too. There isn’t anything here that has red scales. Something that exotic would make our wedding the wedding of the century.”

“You can’t!” Yue protested. “That’s not a simple-minded animal, it’s… it’s…”

“It’s what, Yue?” Hahn asked, scanning the waters. “Come on, you can’t possibly think it’s a pet.”

“No,” Yue grabbed his arm, “but trust me when I say you can’t. Please, don’t do this. There are other animals that you can hunt, just not this one.”

Hahn’s eyes hardened. “Let go, Yue. You don’t know what you’re talking about. I knew I should’ve brought this up with your father. Do you even know what animal it is?”

“It’s not an animal,” Yue admitted. “Hahn, you can’t kill them.”

“Them?” Hahn echoed.

He was to be her husband, wasn’t he? It made sense to trust him, to divulge her secrets. How else was a relationship supposed to work? But reluctance stayed her hand, and she found herself at a loss for words.

“You can’t,” she repeated weakly.

And then, a trill.

Melodic, deep, crooning. Yue had heard many a song in her life. The greatest musicians in the Northern Water Tribe had sung at grand celebrations, fantastic orators reciting poems and stories of old. And yet none of them could compare to what she was hearing.

Hahn, on the other hand, was completely entranced. Enthralled in a way that was unnatural. Certainly not in the way he dropped his spear, stumbling closer to the edge, his eyes fixated on something in the water.

“Hahn,” Yue tugged at his arm, trying to shake off the reverie. “Hahn, get away from the water.”

“No,” Hahn murmured. “No. Let me go. I… I need to go to… I need to…”

Something, someone, crested out of the ocean. A head of brown hair, amber eyes, a proud nose. A man.

A man? Human?

No. A smattering of red scales crawled up the man’s neck, as crimson as the tail Yue had seen over the past few weeks.

Mermaid?

The man opened his mouth, revealing sharp teeth.

And then he sang.

Hahn tore himself out of Yue’s grip, diving into the water in a mad scramble. She shouted in alarm, reaching out for him, but her hand missed him by miles, and with a resounding splash, Hahn started desperately swimming towards the man.

And the man… the merman, dove towards Hahn, still trilling that haunting melody. It happened faster than Yue could comprehend. One moment Hahn was bobbing in the water, and the next, he was gone, dragged into the depths, not even a spread of blood in the water to indicate he was ever there.

Neither Hahn nor the merman resurfaced again.

.

She blamed it on a piranha shark.

Her father accepted the explanation after one look at her tear-streaked face. The rest of the tribe too believed her story after Hahn’s corpse was fished out of the ocean the next day, several bites taken out of him, piranha shark teeth embedded into the open wounds.

Too ambitious, she heard the warriors sigh as they dressed his body. He shouldn’t have tried to hunt a piranha shark. Land animals would have been easier. At least he’d have more of a chance on the tundra.

Two weeks later, Yue returned to the ice edge.

She hadn’t even needed to wait a minute before the man appeared before her, resting his arms on the ice. Amber eyes peered at her curiously, surprisingly warm for someone who clearly had no qualms drowning a person.

“Why did you do it?” Yue asked.

The merman lifted a brow in amusement. “He wanted to kill me.”

His voice was deep. It had no underlying musical quality to it, unlike that night. But Yue still remained wary, making sure she was more than an arm’s length away from the water.

“I was going to stop him.”

The merman hummed, tail flicking behind him. His fins were broad, powerful, sending a strong ripple with such a lackadaisical action. “Hmm. I’m sure.”

“I didn’t know mermen could be so violent,” Yue admitted.

At that, he perked up, grinning as if she had unwittingly told a joke that only he understood.

“Merman,” he repeated, chuckling. “How quaint.”

Then he trilled once more, and the same thrall from that night overtook her. But before she could attempt to shake it off, he vanished into the waters, leaving her alone once more.

She had an epiphany, then. The trills, the singing, the drowning…

She paled. How could she forget? Mermaids dominated the fantastical tales she adored, but there were other creatures out there. Other creatures that did not possess nearly the same innocent reputation mermaids did.

No, not merman, indeed.

Siren.

[seafrost-fangirl]

“Her clothes spread wide

And mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up,

Which time she chanted snatches of old lauds,

As one incapable of her own distress,

Or like a creature native and indued

Unto that element.

But long it could not be

Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,

Pull’d the poor wretch from her melodious lay

To muddy death.”

— Gertrude, Queen of Denmark on Ophelia

HAMLET ACT IV: SCENE VII

~*~

Little Ophelia piece I’ve been tinkering around with for a year or so, finally gotten to a version I like so I thought I’d share.

[constanzarte]

Honremos la primer publicación con un personaje shakesperiano icónico en el mundo del arte, Ofelia...

Gertrude "There is a willow grows askaunt the brook, That shows his hoary leaves in the glassy stream, Therewith fantastic garlands did she make Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cull-cold maids do dead men’s fingers call them. There on the pendant boughs her crownet weeds Clamb’ring to hang, an envious sliver broke, When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide, And mermaid-like awhile they bore her up, Which time she chaunted snatches of old lauds, As one incapable of her own distress, Or like a creature native and indued Unto that element. But long it could not be Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, Pull’d the poor wretch from her melodious lay To muddy death."

Gertrudis "Donde hallaréis un sauce que crece a las orillas de ese arroyo, repitiendo en las ondas cristalinas la imagen de sus hojas pálidas. Allí se encaminó, ridículamente coronada de ranúnculos, ortigas, margaritas y luengas flores purpúreas, que entre los sencillos labradores se reconocen bajo una denominación grosera, y las modestas doncellas llaman, dedos de muerto. Llegada que fue, se quitó la guirnalda, y queriendo subir a suspenderla de los pendientes ramos; se troncha un vástago envidioso, y caen al torrente fatal, ella y todos sus adornos rústicos. Las ropas huecas y extendidas la llevaron un rato sobre las aguas, semejante a una sirena, y en tanto iba cantando pedazos de tonadas antiguas, como ignorante de su desgracia, o como criada y nacida en aquel elemento. Pero no era posible que así durarse por mucho espacio. Las vestiduras, pesadas ya con el agua que absorbían la arrebataron a la infeliz; interrumpiendo su canto dulcísimo, la muerte, llena de angustias."

1) John William Waterhouse – Ophelia, 1910

2) John William Waterhouse – Ophelia, 1894

3) Joseph Kirkpatrick – Ophelia, 1896

4) Pascal Dagnan-Bouveret - Ophelia

5) Arthur Hugues - Ophelia

6) Paul Albert Steck – Ophelia, 1895

7) Thomas Francis Dicksee - Ophelia

PARTE 1

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

All the World’s a Stage

I wanted a rehash of the final scene of The Night Market, Book 1, set from Ember’s perspective.  In other words, I felt like being sad. Which means Ophelia from Hamlet.  It’s too short for me to post on AO3, imo, so it’s just going to be here.  Hope you enjoy, and check out The Night Market if you haven’t already. It’s worth it. 

-

There is a story, half-remembered.

As Ember watches Milo pull the key from his chest, it drifts into his mind, a voice clear, projecting with all the broad tones of the stage.

Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke, when down her weedy trophies and herself fell into the weeping brook.

It happens so fast. Taliesen’s hand on Milo’s shoulder, that glass grin reflecting the lantern light all around them, slowly beginning to pop like bubbles in champagne. It happens so fast, yet even so, time slows to a near-halt.

Her clothes spread wide, and mermaid-like awhile they bore her up; which time she chanted snatches of old tunes, or like a creature native and indued unto that element.  

Milo whirls and stabs Taliesen, his chains glinting, his beauty disrupted by desperation. Meanwhile, the fountain whispers softly its secrets, peaceful and steady as if the world isn’t about to end. Ember’s life is about to end.

But long it could not be ill that her garments, heavy with their drink, pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay to muddy death.

Ember falls through the air, although he feels as if he is drowning. Drifting, sinking into a great inky depth from which he cannot escape, lost in a vast ocean and forced to submit. He sees Taliesen shove his way inside. He feels nothing.

There is a flicker of a memory in his mind. Winding around someone like a cat, bright and warm, feeling them laugh. “Hey there, Lamplight. Miss me?” It is his anchor, his sense of being. The first true moment of consciousness. He grips tight to it and tries to pull on that anchor to drag himself to the surface. He reaches out for warm, brown hands, and grips a pair of pale, freckled ones instead. Ember feels himself slipping. This anchor is fragile. It’s changed. Unstable, like nailing down a kite in a hurricane. He looks up into whiskey-colored eyes, Milo’s expression terrified. He’s crying out words, fat tears rolling down his face, and Ember can’t hear. He knows he has to listen, that Milo needs someone to actually be patient enough to hear his words. His precious, beautiful heart, spilled out in words like crimson on a garden path, bright and acrid and all at once.  Ember fights, even as he slips under, even as his lungs fill with void, his sense of self a drop in the ocean of the Night Market. For one blissful second, he hears it. “I lo-” The words are cut short, Ember fighting with all his strength to cup Milo’s face, to press a thumb to that beautiful man’s lips, to quell deathbed confessions. “It’ll be alright, Milo,” Ember whispers hoarsely. He hears his words echo, strangely loud amidst the roaring in his ears, his heartbeat frantically pumping, trying to keep him from drowning. “Everything will be okay.”

But long it could not be ill that her garments, heavy with their drink, pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay to muddy death.

He gives one final gasp, the void flooding in, and feels himself slip away.

[novaauster]

“‘Tis in my memory lock’d, and you yourself shall keep the key of it,” Dazai says sweetly. “Let me guess: we’re killing ourselves?”

“When down her weedy trophies and herself,” Fyodor reminds Dazai, like they’re reciting a grocery list. “Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide, and, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up; which time she chanted snatches of old tunes, as one incapable of her own distress, or like a creature native and indued unto that element.”

basically a Dazai-pov prequel to the fic "brutal out here!" by @valleykey

[theecyborbscibbles]

Mild Tw-blood

Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide

And mermaid-like awhile they bore her up:

…

Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,

Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay

To muddy death

Shuri’s Inner Turmoil feat. her family and it’s complicated’s fur/scale-sonas waiting to see if she will sink or swim.

I’ve wanted to do a Shuri painting inspired by by John Everett Millais’s Ophelia for like 4 months but didn’t have anytime to finish it until now. Shuri felt really Ophelia coded to me as she spends so much of bp wf floating on the surface of disappear, thankfully she manages to rise from the waters and meet a much better fate then Ophelia’s. I intended to illustrate her conflicted feelings during the final fight, but it could also be seen as more of an overall summary of her arc.

[chrissy-n-eddie]

been ages since I had anything to wip wednesday. also it's not wednesday!

anyway. queer girls hellcheer <3

___

Out on the field, there was a figure running towards the gym. Even in the blurr of rain — the dark hair, the broad shoulders, and the loping, half-hearted gait cut an unmistakable figure. Chrissy switched the hairdryer off. The heat of it left a halo of condensation on the glass.

“Done?” Anna asked.

A blue blob of a gym shirt fell and landed on the sodden field. Rain fell, still. Eddie Munson scooped it up and started running again.

“Uh huh,” Chrissy said.

Still, she had to wait while Anna looked in the full length mirror and untied and tied her shirt at her navel and positioned the little gold crucifix around her neck so it hung just-so. Chrissy said - “Can we please go?” – Anna shot her an amused look and Chrissy uncrossed her arms.

The heavy fire door to the changing room pushed open with a vacant gusting sound, the air in the hallway cooler for not having held bodies and clothes and close together. Anna stepped into the hallway first, and therefore was almost across to the double-doors of the gymnasium when the rain came in. Chrissy was not. And stood stranded.

Eddie. She barreled through from the outside, her white sneakers squeaking as she skidded to a stop maybe two arm lengths away. The gym shirt in her pale, ring-studded fist was dripping. The hair was wet and stuck to her face and throat in dark curls like she was some kind of deep, sunless mermaid. She was panting a little. And she looked right at Chrissy and grinned, spreading her arms wide — the leather gleaming like a black tongue and denim cutoff jacket soaked dark — “Jesus Fucking Christ!”

[shepswrath]

[IMAGE ID: a painting of an alien astronaut in a purple, segmented space suit covered in cracks. They have white eyes and dark grey skin, and white hair that billows and curls up in their broken helmet. They are holding a bushel of multicolored flowers and vines, of which they are also wrapped in. They are on a blue background surrounded by stars. One 8 Pointed star glows the largest and brightest to the right side of their head and extends across the piece and behind them]

When down her weedy trophies and herself

Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;

And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:

Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;

As one incapable of her own distress,

Or like a creature native and indued

Unto that element: but long it could not be

Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,

Pull’d the poor wretch from her melodious lay

To muddy death.

[cccccasperghost]

There is a willow grows aslant a brook. That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream There with fantastic garlands did she come Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them, There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke, When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook Her clothes spread wide, And, mermaid-like, a while they bore her up, Which time she changed snatches of old tunes, As one incapable of her own distress, Or like a creature native and indued Unto that element. But long it could not be Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay To muddy death...

[neonthewrite]

Friend of the Sprites

The prompt today is "Mermaid". And ... well, water sprites are sort of like mermaids! Their leg fins could make their legs look like mermaid tails if you squint ... That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

~~~

A storm threatened on the far horizon, promising that before the night came the world would be drenched in cool rain. Dead leaves scattered in the wind. Such ambience was the perfect setting for his arrival. The ambience of autumn suited him, from his tendency to wear cozy sweaters to the way his vibrant red hair whipped in even the small breezes, giving him that effortless mussed look. Combine it with his thick glasses and the worn shoulder bag that went everywhere with him, and Louis appeared perpetually ready for the start of a new fall semester, despite having graduated three years prior.

Not that the residents of Fallon Park cared much. They saw many people in the day to day comings and goings through the park, and Louis was one of the only ones that made a point to greet the park’s hidden denizens when he could.

His unmistakable style and the bright color of his hair preceded him, and the water sprites of the pond waited just beneath the surface, peeking around lily pads and reeds. Even with a storm on the way, they’d be ready to return his friendly hello.

He shifted his bag to his other side as he paused by the pond. Kel and the others waited as he glanced this way and that. Ever careful, was their Louis. He wouldn’t acknowledge them until he could ascertain that no one else was around, and no one would notice him talking to the pond. When he finally looked down, they were all assured that he hadn’t seen another human too close to bother with him. The nice thing about the park, something the water sprites had long accepted, humans that came there were often far too preoccupied with their own lives and worries to pay the life under the surface of the pond any attention.

Louis squatted down and Kel grinned. He and the others all raced upwards, their fin wings rippling and the fins on their legs spreading as wide as they would go to lend them speed. They broke the surface at about the same time, each clearing nearly a foot before they had to flip backwards in graceful arcs to dive back into the water with small but no less jubilant splashes.

When Kel resurfaced to tread water with the other six or seven water sprites that had jumped with him, Louis was laughing and wiping his glasses with a swatch of soft cloth that he never let the water sprites swim off with, though they’d tried once or twice. “Yes, hello,” he said, replacing the glasses on his nose. “Do you splash my glasses like that on purpose, or does it just come with knowing a bunch of watery troublemakers?”

“What if it’s both?” Kel called up, his voice coy and hushed. Speaking up while out of the water had always seemed dangerous to him. Most of the pond’s denizens felt that way. But they couldn’t talk to Louis any other way, so they had to. “Maybe you’re asking for it, being so splashable.”

Louis raised his eyebrows, eyes widening in a very good imitation of pure shock. “Kel, after everything! And you lead this charge against me.”

His dramatics earned raspy laughter from the diminutive water sprites gathered before him. The sound broke him out of his character and he grinned, a truly beaming expression on his pale face. He thought the water sprites were cute, with their butterfly-like fin wings and the found-object fashion they employed, wearing cast off items as accessories.

He was right, really, by Kel’s estimation. He and the other water sprites were adorable.

“Isn’t it Saturday,” one of the other sprites piped up, ducking her head partially back into the water when the human’s attention turned on her. She popped back up again to finish her question in spite of her startle reaction. “You don’t do office things on Saturdays.”

Louis nodded. “You are correct, it’s Saturday and I’m not going to work today. I came just to see you.”

“Did you bring something?” another sprite asked. Kel splashed at them.

“I did, actually,” Louis replied, glancing at the bag at his side while he rummaged within it. The water sprites drifted closer, eager despite all warnings against coming too close to the bank. They gasped when Louis pulled his hand out of the bag again in a quick motion, surprised by his speed, and then distracted by the tidy spool of twine he held up for all to see.

“Strong rope! All of that is for us?” someone asked. “How much is there?!”

Louis lowered it towards the water for the sprites to get a closer look. Indeed, they drifted closer, reaching up to touch the rough texture. Kel grasped some of the twine experimentally. It was sturdy.

“It’s three feet of twine,” Louis explained. “The weather report says that the storm is going to be pretty rough later. I wanted to make sure you all had enough to lash everything down, just in case the wind is strong enough to upset the pond.”

He was so kind, compared to how awful the sprites knew some humans could be. Kel smiled up at him. “You spoil us, Louis. Absolutely rotten.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Sure. Just don’t go using this twine to pull any pranks, okay? I’ll never hear the end of it.”

He certainly wouldn’t, if any of the older water sprites bothered to come up to scold him in person. Kel shook his head. “We make no promises, human. No promises at all.”

[the-fiction-witch]

The Girl In The Water

TV SHOW GAME OF THRONES COUPLE: JOJEN X READER (KINDA) RATING: SPOOKY! 

I ran even if I struggled. I had been cooped up in my bedroom for so long now the feeling of the wind in my hair of the mud on my feet felt like the sweetest of treats.

"Jojen! don't go too far now!" my father called from the keep but I ignored him just wanting to run feeling the wonderful joy of being able to go outside again. jumping over marshy mud puddles, across wooden planks set up around the pools and dark water, between the tall thin trees, doing my best to stay away from the little houses and tracks for the people who surrounded grey water watch. I reached the north river one of the large bodies of water in the marshes aside from the green fork that still runs through. I stopped a moment to catch my breath not an easy task in the post of greywater fever. I caught my breath and looked in the water I noticed in the reflection of the water it was of... a girl.

But she was different from most girls in the marshes well... dressed like my sister. in much the same as the boys did half the time, you struggle to tell the difference between the two. This girl was different and Immediately I was captivated by her. she was giggling as she jumped from wooden walkway to wooden walkway leaping like a beautiful cat effortlessly from place to place. she was barefoot without any mud or dirt on then somehow. she had these sweet little legs bare often poking out from her dress. she wore this long green dress with cut-outs for her legs to often poke out when she jumped, a little brown corset around her waist holding the dress together, this long intricate braid of sweet Y/H/C hair, a wooden circlet in her hair. she was giggling as she ran.

she saw me looking and blushed a little at me giving me a little wave.

I waved back at her making her giggle more continuing on through the trees.

I looked up from the water trying to find her but... I couldn't I looked around at all the walkways all the pathways but no one was around for miles and yet in the water, she was as clear as day. as real a reflection as my own. I chased her reflection running along after her. hearing her sweet giggles and catching her little smiles, trying to see if I could catch her and see her.

I ran through doing my best to keep up with the reflection hoping I'd turn a corner and find her there somehow hidden in the tree meaning I had only seen her reflection. we ran for miles together through all the little places and cut thoughts only Cragmen of the marshes know.

And I admit I liked her. her sweet little giggles made me feel so happy. she even blew me little kisses which I admit I blew back to her.

She rushed off fast this time so I did my best to keep up with her,

until I took a turn and that was it. no reflection. the water was still but there was no reflection at all.

where did she go?

I heard the sound of water. and I saw ripples in the water as if something had moved. I assumed it was a lizard lion or maybe a fish or something.

Where is she? where did the pretty girl go?

I looked into the water again hoping to either see her reflection again or see a creature who had made the sound .... but I didn't

I saw her.

The girl I had seen in the reflection.

She was there in the dark grey water, Her clothes spread wide and mermaid-like about her. her hair danced in the waters about her. her face white and lifeless, mouth open but her lips blue, dark rings around her white eyes and mossy green across her cheek The sweet dresses were heavy with the weight of their drink deserving to pull her into the darkness into the mud and madness of the world below into muddy death.

For a moment in all my panic, I wanted to jump into the water, to save her!

my thoughts she had been running and jumping along with me and fallen into the murky marsh but even then I knew, by the colours of her face, by the moss against her skin.

she was long dead before I arrived.

One of her legs missing and not even bleeding as she floated along, she must have been dead for days.

But as I watched her float away I... I couldn't leave her.

I used a stick from the tree to twist around the fabric of her dress pulling her close and slowly begin able to pull her up onto the walkway.

And it was then I felt someone else on the walkway, I looked up and saw my father who had clearly come looking for me.

He saw me with this girl in my arms and panic set about across his face. "Jojen-"

"I.... I found her.. floating in the water" I told him trying not to cry not to panic all the while confused by how I had heard her voice, how I had seen her reflection, how she blew me kisses how... was that possible.

He called for help and men came carrying her back to the keep of greywater watch laying her down on the wooden walkway people came to see her and panic set about the keep.

A woman came and... broke down into sounds I had never heard. Wails and screams of horror and desperation tears flooding from her eyes. A man trying to hold her back from the girl.

I learnt from the people about the keep, that it was this woman's only daughter. Her only child. her husband had come to the greywater fever only weeks before I got sick of it myself. this girl. she had gone missing on a walk in the marshes over a month ago. And many men agreed she had been dead for at least three weeks. drowned. or so they said. The woman thanked me, praised me and hugged me for finding her daughter and for bringing her home to her.

all the while I was still also confused how I had seen her reflection in the water.

[sunniebabe99]

Ophelia's Death-

"There is a willow grows askant the brook That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream. Therewith fantastic garlands did she make Of crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do “dead men’s fingers” call them. There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds Clamb’ring to hang, an envious sliver broke, When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide, And mermaid-like awhile they bore her up, Which time she chanted snatches of old lauds, As one incapable of her own distress Or like a creature native and endued Unto that element. But long it could not be Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay To muddy death" - Queen Gertrude, Hamlet, Act 4 Scene 7.