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assortedseaglass · 1 year

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An Ever Fixed Mark - A Come Back To Me Oneshot

Billy Washington x Ida (OFC)

[Come Back To Me Masterlist]

Warnings: Fluff, smutty thoughts

Word Count: 1.7K

Note: This is a long overdue thank you to @exitpursuedbyavulcan for their support of Come Back To Me. Just a sweet little drabble about my favourite idiots. It follows on from the events of Come Back To Me and contains OCs, so if you aren’t familiar, maybe give that a read first.

If it weren’t for the steady voice of the priest, Billy would have forgotten where he was. Across the altar, illuminated by stream of July light, stood Ida. From the moment Faisal had knocked on his door that morning with a panicked “Ready?”, all Billy wanted was to see her. In a rush of wedding-induced delirium, the morning faded into afternoon and guests were gathering in the little church. She’d glided up the aisle, the little flowergirl in front of her throwing petals on the ground like grenades. The congregation ahed and laughed, but Billy could see only her. From the bouquet of flowers she held, bright sweet peas, roses and lily-of-the-valley to the pink hue of her joy-freckled cheeks, Ida held him enraptured.

The entire service, he had grinned at her like a schoolboy, palms sweating as the exchange of the rings approached. By some miracle (his life had been so full of miracles these last eighteen months) he hadn’t dropped them, placing them tenderly on the Bible and resuming his sentinel behind Faisal, gazing at Ida. Her eyes were glazed with tears now, the breadth of her smile near forcing them to fall. The usually unruly hair had been wrestled into gentle curls that framed her face, a few whisps haloed by the red and blue of the stained-glass window. He knew it was sacrilegious to say it, but she truly was the most beautiful woman there. Billy watched with glee as she took a shuddering breath of anticipation.

“By the power vested in me,” the priest between them held up his hands. “I know pronounce you man and wife. Go in peace. Faisal, you may kiss-” Before the dear man could finish his sentence, Sofia leapt at Faisal, her arms encircling his neck as the crowd cheered with applause. Behind her, Ida’s tears brimmed over as she laughed, the flowergirl holding her hand jumping up and down with glee. Sofia led Faisal down the aisle, smiling proudly and showing off her wedding ring to the crowd. Faisal shook hasty hands with family and friends as he passed, not once losing step with his bride and laughing at her abounding happiness. Ida hurried the flowergirl after them, giggling she tottered behind the bride and groom, waving at the crowd and utterly oblivious to their focus on the newlyweds. Billy held out his arm for Ida and, with a bashful smile, she took it.

“You look amazing,” he whispered in her ear as they made their way to the front of the church. Ida’s eyes drifted downwards, attempting to hide the growing blush with her hair.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Wash.” She nudged his shoulder; it was his turn to blush. “Though I can’t wait to get these pins out of my hair,”

“And I can’t wait to get you out of that dress,” Billy said lowly in the shell of her ear.

If the church has been full to the rafters, then the hotel function suit was bound to burst. Sugar-high children, reminiscing elders and everyone in between spilled from the suit into the summer evening sun. Sofia and Faisal, a glass of champagne in each hand, moved around their loved ones as if gliding on air. Faisal’s parents were regal in their Shalwar kameeze and Anarkali against the sea of linen suits and summer dresses, and Sofia’s parents, with their white-blonde hair and golden skin as beautiful as their daughter’s, spoke to them with glowing pride. Gladness and well wishes filled the air.

“What a beautiful couple,”

“What a gorgeous day,”

Amongst it all, Billy and Ida were the model wedding party, welcoming friends, charming the families and ensuring the day went without a hitch. At least, without Sofia and Faisal knowing. Occasionally, they caught each other’s eye from across the room and beamed. Ida basking in the radiant joy of her best friend’s happiness, Billy at being finally and firmly accepted into this found family. The flowergirl dotted between them, begging Ida to play or Billy to dance. When, after the dinner, she had been beckoned to bed by her parents, she hugged Ida around the knees and gave Billy a wet kiss on the cheek. Ida’s stomach kneaded as she watched him with the little girl. She had just reached out her hand to him, caressing the sun-kissed skin there, when the clinking of spoon against glass rang out. The newlyweds and their parents were seated at the top table, the guests shuffling to their chairs. Ida tucked herself into the crook of Billy’s shoulder, leaning against his chest and inhaled his cologne. Nothing needed to be said; their minds already worked in tandem. Instead, he lazily brought his hand to graze at her waist and watched as Sofia’s father stood to address the crowd.

Ida smiled as he told stories of Sofia as a young girl, her nature vivacious from the moment she took her first breaths. The crowd laughed when tales turned to her time at university, and the arrival of the maid-of-honour in his daughter's life. Ida should have brought seriousness and study, instead their pair of girls partied and drank and somehow passed their exams. Billy pinched her side and Sofia winked at her best friend. The career, the travels, and eventually, Faisal.

“I was convinced the moment that my little girl first smiled up at me, that no-one could be a match for her. No one as brilliant, and bright, and adventurous and fun-loving. I was right.” The crowd chortled. “But then Faisal came along. Faisal with his kind eyes and his kind heart, and I watched as he and my Sofia fell in love. One day, I asked them to help me bring the weekly shop in from the car. An hour it took them. Pausing between each bag to talk. About the weather, the world, their hopes and dreams, what was on telly last night, and I knew as I watched them that he was the man for her.” He placed his hand on Faisal’s shoulder, and the groom patted it with affection. “Love isn’t a rollercoaster, or easy. Sometimes it isn’t even patient or kind. It’s soul-baring, visceral and long. I shan’t give advice to these two, so perfectly suited for a life together. But if I have anything to say it’s this; at the end of it all our hearing goes and we forget the glasses we’ve lost are on our heads. Our skin sags and our minds slow. Marry someone that sees the worst of you, all of you, and thinks the sun shines out your arse regardless.” The crowd laughed and clapped. Ida turned her head to Billy and found he was already watching her. With a wink, he kissed her forehead and raised his glass to toast his friends.

Before either of them new it, the night was drawing in. Sofia and Faisal were dancing at the centre of the room, Robbie Williams’ Angels playing on the decks.

“Wouldn’t be a wedding without it,” Billy whispered to Ida before pulling her close. Her eyes were hazy with champagne, and his own head felt as if it were full of cotton wool. She wrapped her arms around is neck and he was reminded delightfully of school discos, girls and boys stood stiffly apart as they held each other awkwardly in some strange imitation of what they had seen their parents doing. A prepubescent game of grown up. Ida kissed his neck, and Billy would have felt embarrassed about the sweat that fell there if it weren’t for the way he’d heard her inhale his scent.

“I’m done now,” she had said with her head lolling against his shoulder. “I want to get into bed.” Billy rubbed her back soothingly and watched as Faisal dipped Sofia into a kiss.

“Last song. Soon,”

Ida looked up at him. Red bloomed across his cheeks from the heat of the air, the dancing and the alcohol. Since the incident he kept his hair short, but it still managed to stick to his forehead. A long while ago the uncomfortable ties the groomsmen wore had been discarded and his floral buttonhole was lobsided. He looked how she had always known him; frayed at the edges, the young and turbulent life he had already lived playing out across the canvas of him. A hand tapped her shoulder and with difficulty she tore her eyes away from her Billy.

“We’re off,” Sofia pulled Ida into a hug. “Thank you for everything today.”

“Thanks mate,” Faisal clapped Billy on the back and lifted him off the ground in a tight embrace. They laughed together.

“Here,” Sofia pressed something into Ida’s hands and, looking down, she saw it was her bouquet. “I thought about throwing it, but I wanted you to have it.”

Ida raised her eyebrows. “What are you saying, Mrs?” Sofia waggled hers in response, then turned to pull her husband away through the dancers and towards the car waiting to whisk them to their honeymoon. Billy and Ida watched from a distance, his arms still clinging to her hips, as their friends drove away and into married life. No sooner had the car pulled out of the hotel’s dark drive was Ida wrenching Billy towards the door.

“Haven’t we got to help clear up?” He asked, looking at the family and hotel staff packing away chairs.

“We’ve done enough today. I need to get you upstairs, Wash.”

“What for?”

All breath left him. Ida looked over her shoulder, past their entwined hands and into his eyes with a determined and wolfish gaze. “Just you wait.”

Note: The title is from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116, which I just adore!

Tagging the old Come Back To Me crew: @jessssica1234 @heimtathurs @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @aemonds-wifey @slytherincursebreaker @valerie977 @greenowlfactif @yentroucnagol @schniiipsel @multiple-fandoms-girl @just-emmaaaa @tosiaf @kage-no-sonzai

#ewan mitchell #billy washington #ewan mitchell x reader #trigger point series #come back to me

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theoryyyyy · 1 year

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Flowers of Love

Dvalin fell to the ground, seeing his songbird go into the comfort of another dragon, a tyrant, the turquoise dragon's heart shattered into pieces when he saw his most precious treasure, his jewel, his beloved Barbatos seek the comfort of another - his lovebird's dark blue hair, tips dipped in a magnificent shade of aqua, tied up into a pair of braids next to his head, the ones he braided for him everyday, now touched by that dragon.

Dvalin stared into the distance as he reminisced the times where his songbird was by his side, fighting in the war for their land, those were the most joyous days for the old dragon, but such would not last forever, as the poor dragon was not ready for heavy heartbreak.

That cursed dragon knew that touching another's treasures was a unspoken crime to commit, he could not believe that the dragon's morals would go so far, this blundering brute could never be a good match for his songbird, his golden horns and crooked, uneven body was a disgrace to dragonkind, such a monster would be more suitable for the front lines of war, a sacrifice to the enemies, a human shield, one would say, especially when he himself is the enemy.

The tyrant had purged through their lands with his army, killing their soldiers and people without an ounce of mercy, his stares rumored to be as cold as ice, showing no mercy towards his enemies, shattering lives and hearts alike, Dvalin had not the faintest idea why his songbird would fall for such a distasteful dragon like him.

As the majestic dragon was now sobbing with tears, drops of water flowing down with tears, but in his mourning moment, he didn't realize that there were daffodil petals gently raining down on him, the wind was with him... daffodils were his songbird's favourite flower, a symbolism to unrequited love, he held the flowers close, which reminded him of his songbird's scent - daffodils and lilies of the valley. -

First time posting here :D oneshot about one sided dvalin x venti, mentioned zhongli. Don’t mind my british spelling lmao (─‿‿─)

#genshin #dvalin/venti #zhongli #zhongven

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kiyodu · 3 years

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Been interested in Floriography (language of flowers) lately. Here are my Favourites Part II:

Heather

• luck, protection

The meaning originates from a Scottish folklore. Malvina, a legendary beauty, was betrothed to a brave warrior called Oscar. As Oscar lay dying in battle, he instructed a messenger to deliver a sprig of purple heather to his bride-to-be as a token of his eternal love. When Malvina's tears fell upon the flower, it changed from purple to white. From then on, heather was said to turn sorrow to good fortune and protection. Pair it with rose as you begin a new relationship, and cattail for good health for a friend awaiting a diagnosis.

Holly

• foresight

Holly branches were hung in homes to protect against misfortune. It was said that if a girl ran seven laps around a holly tree one way, then seven times around the other way, her future husband would appear to her. Pair it with eucalyptus to indicate looking out for a friend, and lily of the valley to show better times are on the horizon.

Lilac

• first love, reminiscence

In Greek mythology, Pan, the god of the forests, was in love with Syringa, a nymph who feared his advances. To disguise herself, she turned into a lilac bush. Pan, upon finding the shrub, cut its hollow reeds to form the pan flute, memoralizing his first love. Victorian widows often wore lilac while in mourning over their late husbands. Pair it with monkshood to honor your first true love, tulip to declare being in love for the first time, daisy and aster for the purity and innocence of one's first love.

Lily of the Valley

• return of happiness

Saint Leonard, a hermit who lived in the forests of West Sussex, was said to have slain the last dragon in England. According to legend, the places where St. Leonard battled the dragon were marked by lilies of the valley, which are blossomed in clusters wherever the saint's blood was spilled. Once he defeated the dragon, St. Leonard was able to resume his life of happy seclusion. Pair with protea to transform a bad situation into a good one, and yarrow to help soothe a broken heart.

Marigold

• grief

When clouds roll in or night falls, the marigold curls inward and lets its head droop. When it opens again in the sunlight, its petals, wet with dew, appear to be crying. Traditionally, marigolds are used to celebrate Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) in Mexico, when the spirits of the departed are believed to visit the living. This celebration is rooted in the Aztec festival honoring Mictecacihuatl, the goddess of the underworld. Pair it with willow to indicate sorrow at the loss of a loved one, and rue to apologise for the pain you've caused.

Mistletoe

• surmounting all difficulties

In Norse mythology, the beloved god Balder was haunted by dreams of his impending death, so his devoted mother, Frigga, made everything in nature promise not to hurt him. Sadly, she overlooked the mistletoe plant. Loki, god of mischief, created an arrow from the plant and tricked Balder's brother into killing him with it. In her grief, Frigga begged the other gods to bring Balder back, which they did, proving he could surmount all difficulties, even death itself.

The bright winter berry, cut from the oak tree, was seen as a symbol of hope during the darkest, most difficult time of the year. Pair it with amaryllis for the confidence to overcome a challenge, and lady slipper to indicate your faith that the tides will turn in the recipient's favor.

Oak

• bravery

Oak trees have long been associated with brave and triumphant figures in many different cultures. In Norse mythology, it is known as the tree of life. Pair it with sweet william and monkshood for someone you admire, and clematis to indicate appreciation for a leader in your life.

Pansy

• you occupy my thoughts

The name comes from the french pensée, meaning thought. In Shakespeare's Hamlet, Ophelia remarks, "There's pansies, that's for thoughts," while distributing flowers after the death of her father. Pair it with chrysanthemum for a loved one going through a rough time, and forget-me-not as a gift for a friend whose kindness and generosity you'll never forget.

Snowdrop

• consolation, hope

One of the first flowers to bloom in the depths of winter, the bright white snowdrop is a sign that spring—and a turn toward better, easier days—is coming. Victorians loved this unique flower but warned against bringing it into the home. If brought indoors, it was considered a bad omen, perhaps even a harbinger of death. Pair it with carnation for a broken heart, mistletoe to indicate endurance through difficult times.

Sweet pea

• thank you for a lovely time

The flower's light and sweet smell was believed to brighten the home and serve as a symbol of hospitality. Pair it with hyssop and orchid to thank a friend for inviting you to their home, zinnia as a token of appreciation.

— Jessica Roux, Floriography

*image credits given where it's due.

#floriography #flowers #flower meanings #books #book quotes

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wistful-giselle · 5 years

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tag yourself: autumnal/halloween edition 🥀♡

ghost maiden~ ♡ a castle shrouded in mist, playing chopin’s nocturnes by candlelight, early morning walks across frosty meadows, a white victorian nightdress with a wilting lily of the valley bouquet, bewailing the day you were abandoned at the altar, the ‘giselle’ ballet, tear-stained love letters thrown from the tower or into the icy lake...

19th century vampire~ ♡ attending the opera in a moth-eaten velvet gown and lace gloves, a cursive-inscribed first edition of ‘carmilla’ from your first lover, hosting elaborate feasts for the local nobility but only drinking red wine, a dusty french boudoir of old treasures: vintage glass bottles of perfume and antique art, reminiscing with byron and wilde...

forest-born witch~ ♡ mushroom picking at night, a cat-shaped familiar composed of shadow (named circe), singing in latin to our lady the moon or hekate, velvet spell bags of herbs and tumbled smoky crystals, casting off one’s earthly form to step through the incense veil into the world of spirits, a cauldron of stewed apples and blackberries for teatime (guests include the grimm and medea)...

academic-turned-detective~ ♡ ancient ink-blotted manuscripts of homer’s odyssey, solving a century-old murder mystery, pearl buttoned blouses and shabby oxfords, wandering a cemetery with hot cider or cinnamon cocoa, haunting gloomy chapels on rainy afternoons, melting wax to seal a hand inked letter to an old friend...

angel of sweet death~ ♡ a lovely-hearted heartbreaker, worn out ballerina slippers and a black silk slip (with a cashmere cardigan for the evening), ‘girl’s night’: black and white horror films and devil’s food cake, tying a velvet ribbon to a tree branch as to not get lost in the enchanted forest, follower of lana del rey and stevie nicks, weeping tiny black pearls and coughing up dried rose petals...

#I hope everyone is having a lovely sunday~ 🌙#tag yourself #october #autumn #halloween #aesthetic #fall #mine

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hidingineden · 3 years

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inside basil's mailbox, there's a letter addressed to him. it contains a card that reads the following: "i know we don't talk to eachother much these days, but i just wanted to remind you of all the ways you've made the world a little brighter." additionally, there's a bag containing six unique seeds: a sunflower seed, a lily of the valley seed, a rose seed, a gladiolus seed, a cactus seed, and a white tulip seed.

Basil had been given the letter from Polly who had picked up the mail after a trip to the pharmacy. It wasn’t unheard of for Basil to get mail from his parents even if it was a rare affair. Taking a few steps towards the couch Basil glanced at the letter and almost dropped it in shock. It might have been a while but he recognized the handwriting, it was SUNNY. Immediately Basil ran to his room locking the door before sitting down on his bed.

Basil didn’t bother pondering over how long it had been since he even heard from Sunny, no part of what happened left his mind and this as no exception. Basil gingerly inspected the letter in his hands as if the paper itself was made of glass and would shatter at the slightest bend. Basil had been hoping this would happen but it was almost surreal to be actually hearing from Sunny again.

Laying down Basil took a deep breath before opening the letter, first inspecting the bag of seeds. Sunny really remembered what he said after after so much time, he should have expected it but it already put a lump in his throat. Slipping out the card Basil set both the envelope and the bag of seeds on his nightstand before finally reading the card.

Yep, it was still the same kind Sunny. The one he knew all those years ago, the one Basil had been hoping would come back ever since that day. Tears welled in Basil’s face but were quickly dealt with after Basil rubbed his eyes with his free hand while setting the letter next to the seeds.

Seeds...a fresh start. Basil weakly chuckled at his friend’s thoughtful gesture, Sunny had even gotten the same plants he had used to represent his friends all those years ago. Basil had found himself often revisiting that memory as he did with so many others, so it filled his heart with joy to have it referenced in such a thoughtful manner. But it wasn’t the time for reminiscing and it was finally no long the time for hiding.

A kind gesture should be repaid in full, and Basil intended to do just that.

#traumapathy #>picking flowers (ic)#>white tulip (sunny)#THIS IS SO SWEET #>a sunflower (real world)

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hearteyes-candyskies · 5 years

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I love you, I love you not

Yandere!Toshinori x reader x Aizawa

a/n: a short angsty piece about hanahaki diease, which is when unrequited love cause you to cough up flowers until the blooms eventually choke you and you die

tw; death, blood, (flower) vomit

-------

Your fate is sealed with the first petal that falls from your lips. Soft as a lover’s touch, it lies perfect and whole in your hand. At first, you don’t understand.

It’s understandable; chrysanthemum petals are small and could easily be something, anything else. You dismiss the signs, carrying on with your life as always, and ignoring the sinking feeling in your gut.

The petals become more and more frequent, and you begin to suspect that what you have is more than a series of fluke accidents. The confirmation comes in the form of a whole yellow chrysanthemum, crushed and missing a few little petals.

Chrysanthemum- you’re a wonderful friend. Yellow chrysanthemums- slighted love. The bright, cheery colours on your monitor mock you, and you resist the urge to trash everything in your apartment. You hack up another flower, this time more painful than the last. You make an appointment to see your doctor.

There’s peace for a couple days, giving you hope that recognizing the symptoms has halted the illness, but in the middle of a conversation with him, you feel something lodge in your throat.

All you can do is frantically excuse yourself before running to the bathroom to vomit. Pretty little daffodils float on the surface of the toilet water, and you feel your breakfast lurch up into your throat.

Daffodils- unrequited love; you’re the only one. You want to rage, scream, lash out and hurt the world like it’s hurting you, but you resign yourself to sobbing and choking on stray petals. When he asks if you’re alright, concern in his deep black eyes, it takes all your willpower not to breakdown right there.

You swallow a daffodil and smile, spinning some story about rotten food. He shakes his head, smile gentle and warm, and though pain lances through your chest, you can’t bring yourself to tell him

This is your battle alone.

You see your doctor later that day, and learn that the pain you feel isn’t just from unrequited love. A terrifying x-ray shows dark smudges in your lungs, flowers waiting to bloom and choke you.

She comforts you, says that it’s reversible, but you know better. Surgery could save you, but at what cost? A life void of love and emotion is no better than death, you tell her. She pats your arm sympathetically, and you can see the resignation in her eyes.

You’re going to die.

-------

A couple months pass, and you grow weaker with each passing day. It’s become too painful to see him, and while you know he’s worried, concerned for his sweet friend, you can’t bring yourself to face him.

You’re afraid that all that’s going to spill from your lips are bloodied flowers and broken words.

On the three month mark of your first petal, the flowers change again. Primroses. I can’t live without you. You don’t go into work that day, coughing up blood-soaked blooms as you reminisce on better times.

Your love is killing you.

-------

When you do return to work, a friend catches you in the hallway. He smiles, bright and beautiful, golden hair gleaming, and you can’t help the warmth it brings to you.

He’s asking how you are when a coughing fit interrupts him, and his hand comes away coated in red petals. They’re carnations, you can tell that much, but you can’t tell whether the red is their colour or the blood. Both, it turns out.

You start to ask him who it is, comfort him for the grief he’s surely feeling, but when he turns his blue eyes on you your heart stops and you know.

The tears start falling, and wracking sobs force another flower from your lips. There’s nothing but sadness and resignation in his eyes as he asks who you love, and when you reply you can’t look him in the face.

Warm hands leave your shoulder, and you look up to see another flower in his palms.

Petunias- resentment, anger, your presence soothes me. The look in his eyes scares you, determination and resignation and sorrow and fear all rolled into one.

You can’t help but wonder if this is how he felt facing All for One.

He lets you slip out of his grasp, stammering apologies, and hot tears course down your face as you run; from him, from Shouta, from both your unrequited love and his. It seems that all you do is cause pain.

-------

Your time is running out; and with less than a month left to live you sit down for a final meeting with your beloved. It’s nice, both of you ignoring the obvious tension in the room, and it almost feels like you’re just two friends, hanging out and enjoying each other’s company.

When it’s time for him to leave, there’s nothing but guilt and regret in his eyes as he tells you he’s sorry. You force a smile, but the shortness of breath you feel isn’t just from the petals.

That night, as you curl up in bed, you cough up a sweet pea. Good-bye, departure, thank you for a lovely time. The irony of it kills you, but there’s no more anger. Not anymore.

-------

When you wake up in an unfamiliar room, a strong hand petting your hair, you’re not surprised. He looks awful, maybe worse than you do because he hasn’t made peace yet. You’re sympathetic, but like your own scorning lover, you can’t bring yourself to love him.

He alternates between orange lilies and white violets. Towards the end, you start sleeping in his arms, face tucked into his chest. You can feel the coughing subside when you do.

In the end, though, all the love in the world can’t save you, because only the love of one can. You die with Shouta’s name on your lips, and a lily of the valley stuck between your teeth.

Lily of the valley- sweetness, return to happiness, you’re made my life complete.

Above you, Toshinori sobs, a new flower forcing its way from his lips.

A tea rose, and a single full bloom at that. I love you. I still love you. I’ll remember, always.

#yandere all might x reader #hanahaki disease #angst #yandere #tw: death #tw: blood #tw: vomit

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drethanramslay · 4 years

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Hand that you hold

Pairing: Kamilah x MC (Dakota Rivers)

Summary: Marriage is a beautiful union of two souls. When two people whose soul's sing for each other, it's then you know that that person is worth keeping around.

Word count: 3.4 K words

Warning: NONE. Its pretty much fluff and a bit of swearing

Masterlist

Taglist: @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @vampiregirlsblog (lemme know if you want to be tagged)

Song: Hand that you hold by Dan Owen

Forgive me for any mistakes 🥺

"I swear on my fangs Justin, if there is even a decoration out of place, it's your ass on the line." Dakota spoke into the phone with a cool voice. Lindsay was going around her like a mother hen, making the final alterations to her wedding dress.

Today was the day and things were already going berserk.

"Ummm I don't know what are you talking about...?" Justin Mercado spoke, with a tremble in his voice.

"Oh really? So whose employee was the one who flipped a fucking table in her blind rage, hmm? And I had asked you to leave the cobblestone path alone, but some dumbass on your team went ahead and put roses. ROSES?! That's so damn cliche and I specifically asked for non cliche and unique things. What had I asked for?"

"Non cliche and unique. We are already cleaning that up." Justin audibly gulped.

"When I had last come down, the fairy lights were not up and the podium where I am supposed to get married, does not have the flower arch up yet?! It's six in the fucking evening, the moment the sun sets people are going to start coming. The greenhouse doesn't have the floating lights yet. Just because we are supernaturals and have heightened senses doesn't mean we to drink and socialize in the dark!!"

"Yes ma'am we are almo-" Justin began but Dakota cut her off.

"When I asked for your services, I was promised the best. The only thing I am getting best is problems.... and an amazing wedding dress."

Lindsay blushed as she looked down at her feet. Dakota gave her a small encouraging smile.

"Ma'am that was a...a honest mistake. The decorations are all set, the tables have the pastel flower basket centre pieces. The food caterer reached and have started plating the appetizers. The bar is open and well stocked with blood and alcohol. We are good to go for your first guest."

"Good. I want this day to be perfect for my wife. For the love of the moon, if anything else goes wrong, I will skin your hide and make a carpet out if it. Got it?" Dakota threatened him. She hung up the phone and Lily snickered in the background.

"God Dakota you are such a bridezilla." Dakota just sighed, "I just...want it to be perfect. Agreed it's a small and intimate ceremony but still."

"It's gonna be lit af. The talk of the century. So don't worry. You just worry on sitting still and looking pretty." Lily said as she went into the adjacent bathroom to change.

Dakota sighed, for what seemed as the millionth time, as she turned towards the mirror to see herself. The person in the reflection had the same grey eyes and pale skin. But, she looked gorgeous. Almost like a different person.

She had decided to throw the traditional white wedding dress out of the window and went for something more unique, just like their love. She had opted for a baby blue wedding dress with layers of chiffon, making it look like ballroom gown. It was sleeveless but the neck of the gown extended till her midriff.

God Kami is going to lose her mind... Dakota thought, smiling slyly.

There were pastel colour flowers embroidered into the net like material which made her look like a blossoming flower. Just like after a long harsh winter, spring comes, causing the flowers to bloom, similarly, after three grueling years of fighting off the bad guys and loosing so many people, they finally have happiness and peace.

And there is no other way she would like to commemorate this happy occasion.

Her blonde hair had been tied into a low bun, stubborn strands of hair escaping it. Lindsay helped her put on the blue stone 'ridiculous' tiara, which Kamilah had bought her after the harrowing fiasco.

Dakota smiled to herself as she wore it, reminiscing the day in the empty jewelry store. "I'm such a pretty, pretty princess, dammit." Dakota spoke, from her memory.

"Yes that you are, Ms. Rivers. I must say that you are one of the most prettiest brides I have ever seen. The henna tattoos on your hands are just making you look so unique...IN A GOOD WAY." Lindsay spoke, as she flushed.

Dakota looked down at the henna designs on her hand. She wanted to respect Kamilah's Egyptian heritage so they both got henna tattoos on their hands just two days before the marriage. As they got them done, they laughed and swapped stories.

It was such a pleasant experience.

"Thank you so much Lindsay, this wedding dress is just perfect. Wouldn't have been possible without your hard work." Dakota said earnestly as she squeezed her hands, as a sign of gratitude.

Lindsay flushed and dipped her head and walked out of the dressing room. Dakota sat down near the large mirror and checked her make up. She was just finishing up her touch ups when Lily stepped out of the bathroom in a black suit. She was wearing formal trousers and a blazer, which showed the valley of her breasts. She had paired this with a golden pendant, which went till her midriff. She finished of her look with a pair of black stilettos.

"Damn Lily, you looking hot." Dakota told her.

Lily smiled and she walked to the mirror and placed her hands on Dakota's shoulder. "You are looking so gorgeous.... I am so, so happy for you. You deserve all the happiness in the world."

Dakota reached and held her best friends hand, unable to say anything because of the intense emotions she was feeling.

"I just wish Jax was here..." Dakota said as tears pooled on the corner of her eyes.

Lily sighed. "I bet he has got first row seats to this function. Being the boomer he is, he would end up coming an hour earlier than the starting time!!"

Both of them laughed out loud, making the sad atmosphere, a little lighter.

"C'mon girl. Let's gets you on the podium so that you can watch your sexy wife walk down the aisle."

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Justin had not screwed up.

Which was a huge relief.

Kamilah and Dakota had decided that they would have the ceremony in a private garden. Nothing to big. Dakota had made several mood boards about the way she wanted to decorate the garden and the adjacent greenhouse.

The greenhouse would be the place where food, drinks and the reception would be held.

The greenhouse was like a magical place of its own. It was a mix of glass and wood which complemented each other perfectly. Green vines hung from the roof, over the tables. The hanging lights amidst them made it look enchanted. The tables were covered with simple white tablecloths but the center pieces along with the tealight candles, really made the entire venue colorful.

The party favours had been placed on each chair. Kamilah decided to order baklava and give it out as party favours. Dakota hundred percent agreed because she may or may not have had a box or two of those sweet, sinful delights.

Everything looked perfect.

The guests were already present when she came down to the greenhouse. They were laughing, drinking and mingling. When she entered the place everyone stopped their conversation and turned to look at her. Even though she was one of the most powerful vampires of their time, the person who slayed Rheya, the goddess, she still felt so awkward when everyone's eyes were on her.

Dakota shyly waved before speaking, "Hey guys! Thank you so much for coming. The appetizers are being distributed and the bar is open. We will be starting the ceremony in half an hour."

Nikhil was the first one to come up to her. "Ah Miss Dakota! You look as ethereal as a fairy. I'm in awe."

"Thank you so much for your kind words Nikhil. I must thank you for helping in finding the venue."

"It was my utmost pleasure Miss. Go on, greet your other guests. If you need any help, I am at your beck and call."

Smiling Dakota headed to meet the other vamps. Serafine had donned a beautiful evening gown. Adrian was standing there with a drink in his hand, wearing a black tux. When she reached them, they stopped their conversation and turned to greet her.

"Hey Sera! Hey Senator Adrian." Dakota said with a teasing smile. Adrian groaned while Serafine let out an elegant laugh. "Oh my love, you look so gorgeous. Kamilah is indeed a lucky woman to have met you." Serafine said as she hugged Dakota, and kissed her cheeks.

"Thank you for coming. I know you were busy with the opening of your nightclub." Serafine just waved her hand. "Ah those things come and go. But seeing Kamilah settle down, never. Couldn't miss it for the life of it."

"Kamilah was saying that you managed most of the decorations. Must say that they look beautiful." Adrian complemented her. "Thank you Adrian. Can't say it was easy. I may or may not have threatened four people today." They laughed and Adrian checked the time in his watch.

"Gotta go and check on Kamilah. I hope she doesn't have a breakdown. It wasn't fun the last time." Adrian grumbled as he gave Dakota a side hug.

Dakota then headed to the New Orleans gang who were laughing loudly. "Hey Cal, Krom, Ivy."

"EEEEE!! Thank you for inviting me. I may be dead but all these cute ceremonies almost make me feel alive." Ivy said as she hugged Dakota.

Krom groaned. "Can you go one day without the death jokes?"

"Over my dead body." Ivy shot back.

Krom just threw his huge hands up with defeat. "I can't win. I give up."

"Congrats Dakota! Still can't thank you enough for helping me escape from the weirdo's place." Cal said as he shook her hands.

"Cal... We sang karaoke together. I think we are past the 'thank you stage'."

"Oh. My. God. Cal you did karaoke?!" The petite girl with ombre hair beside him squealed. Cal started cursing under his breath. "Yeah babe. It was before we met."

"Can you please send the video to me? Also how rude of me. I am Alex Reyez-Elrich." She extended her hand and Dakota shook it.

"Wait, are you the heir of lord Elrich? I have heard so much about you!! Shit, should I call you 'lady' or 'duchess'?"

Alex let out a laugh. "Don't worry Dakota. Lady is the title they use for my step mom. And, I could say the same about you!! I can feel the power in your veins. And I have read about how you revolutionized the entire vampire- human coexistence. I'm impressed."

"Thank you for coming. By the way, where is Garrus?"

"Behind the bar obvio. You can talk to him later. It's time." Ivy said as she took a sip of her whiskey on rocks.

It's time for my wedding. Dakota smiled at that thought.

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"Kamilah if you continue pacing around the room I swear I will put your ass on the ground." Adrian groaned.

"You wouldn't stand a chance against me." Kamilah shot back.

Kamilah sighed as she sat down near the dressing table, staring at her reflection. She had decided to wear a suit instead of the usual gown. It was porcelain white, and it fit her perfectly. There were occasional patches of embroidery on the blazer which made it look so elegant. Her hair had been left open, looking glossy underneath the yellow tinted lights. Her lips were painted red and she had put minimal make up. She was wearing her brother's pendant. She reached to touch it, wishing that he was watching over her from heaven.

Henna tattoos designed her hands and she smiled looking down at them. She would have been happy even if they got married in a courthouse, but she appreciated the gesture. Dakota was so incessant to follow the ritual and she just couldn't say no to that beautiful face.

Letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, she wore the white stilettos and stood up.

"Last chance to escape. Tell me and I will be your getaway driver." Adrian teased.

"Shut up Raines. It's not helping."

Adrian laughed before he clasped her shoulder. "Kamilah you deserve a happy ending. Dakota is perfect for you and I can see how much she loves you. You don't have to doubt her or her love for you."

"I'm just so nervous.." Kamilah wiped her palms on her trouser pants.

"And that's totally normal. I remember when I married my wife, I was so scared that I jumbled up the vows!!" Adrian laughed.

"If this is your way of comforting me, please shut up at this instant." Kamilah said as she picked up her bouquet of wild flowers, tied with a blue ribbon.

He offered his arm to her and Kamilah grabbed it and walked out.

"Thank you brother...for everything."

Adrian smiled and squeezed her arm. "Let's go and get you a wife."

I'm getting married to the love of my life, my habibti. Kamilah thought as a beautiful smile stretched on her face.

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"Fuck." Dakota breathed out as she saw the fairy lights darken again. "Goddammit! Justin get your ass right her-"

Dakota was cut off as Alex tapped her shoulder, in the dark.

"Dakota, if you don't mind... I can help with your light setting. I don't see it getting better anytime soon."

"Thank you so much Alex. I owe you a bottle of wine after this."

"Mention not." Alex whispered under her breath and rubbed her fingers together and snapped. A ball of yellow light started growing on her palm. It kept on growing until it was the size of a basket ball. Dakota was in awe.

Alex threw her hands up into the air and clapped, resulting in the giant glowing ball to rise in the air and split into its smaller counterparts. Alex waved her hands and the the small light balls spread all over the garden and gazebo, illuminating it in a soft yellow light.

"Yeah that should do it." Alex said as she winked at Dakota.

"Damn girl..." Lily breathed out before regaining her composure and clapping to get the attention of the guests.

"Hey people! Please sit your asses down, we have to get my girl married on time." People took their places and Dakota climbed up the steps of the gazebo.

The cobblestone path led to the gazebo. There were white chairs on either side of it which were slowly being filled by the guests. The gazebo had a teal blue roof which was supported by the white wooden pillars. There were intricate designs on the railing. The entrance of the gazebo had a beautiful flower arch, decorated with pink and white wildflowers.

Everything finally came together.

The Wedding March played and Dakota stood straighter, clutching her bouquet of flowers, to hide how her hands were trembling. She was so nervous. Her heart was racing and she could feel sweat on the back of her neck. She let out a breath, to dissipate her nervousness.

Her eyes landed on the aisle and when she saw Kamilah, all the breath in her body vanished.

Kamilah was walking with her head held high. She was clutching the bouquet and held Adrian's arm. She looked at the gazebo and she was in a trans.

It wasn't Adrian who was holding her, but the grey eyes that tethered her to this world. Reminding her that this was real. She felt like she was floating in a sea of euphoria, but the woman in front of her anchored her. Even if a nuclear missile were to fall out if the sky, or a unicorn was to show up here, she still wouldn't be able to take her eyes off Dakota.

Her love. Her baby. Her habibti.

It was the same thing for Dakota. Time seemed to slow down, people began to vanish until it was just Kamilah and her. Tears welled up in her eyes, by the sheer beauty of this moment. She knew, that this would be the one moment she would never ever forget till the end of time. How her Kami walked down the aisle to her.

Her soulmate. Her rock. Her Queen.

Adrian handed Kamilah to Dakota and patted her shoulder. "Take care of my sister Dakota. Congratulations." Dakota dipped her head. Kamilah reached the podium, and Dakota could see tears pooling in Kamilah's eyes. "Why are you crying?" Dakota joked through her tears.

"The same reason you are habibti." Kamilah answered, with a bright smile that illuminated the entire room. Dakota giggled and reached for Kamilah's hand. They held hands and turned towards the priest.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here this evening to witness the beautiful union of these women in holy matrimony. Please sit down." The priest said and the guests sat down.

"If you have your vows written, please tell them."

Dakota turned towards Kamilah and started saying her vows. "Kamilah, before you my life was empty. I never really cared about love, but now, here I am, with you. I see these vows not as promises but as privileges: I get to laugh with you and cry with you, care for you and share with you. I get to run with you and walk with you, build with you, and live with you.

"I’ve seen your kindness and your strength. I’ve seen you patient and frayed. We have been through everything. Through thick and thin. And I know, what a great team we make. Together we are so strong and exquisite."

"You are my favorite person, and I choose you to be my partner in all of eternity. I vow to take you as my wife. Let's be awesome together, even when the world isn't so awesome at times. My heart is yours. Forevermore."

Kamilah took a deep breath, as tears of joy rolled down her face. Smiling, she began her vows. "Love...was something that I never understood. It was a question unanswered. Though I have been with different men and women, deep down I knew, that it was not love. I didn't fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way."

"I want nothing more than to share my future with you—my triumphs and my challenges, my joys and my sorrows. Together, I know we can accomplish the life we both dream of living. You are beautiful inside and out. You warm my heart and make me soar. You are my queen, and now my forever best friend."

"You are my first, my last, my everything. You are mine until the end of time, and I am yours for as long as you'll have me."

Dakota was crying. Her heart was bursting with overwhelming love for the Egyptian grace in front of her.

Lula, the ring bearer got the rings. Kamilah slipped the elegant diamond ring on to Dakota's ring finger. Dakota slipped a dainty platinum ring with diamonds on it into Kamilah's ring finger.

The priest continued. " If anyone objects this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Dakota gave a hard glare to the guests, daring someone to say something. The power emanating from her veins was so strong, that Kamilah's eyes widened and the priest shivered. The guests looked as if they were going to suffocate.

Silence.

Dakota rolled in the power, reducing the intensity so that the priest could speak without wetting his pants.

"Do you, Kamilah Sayeed take Dakota Rivers as your wife?"

"I do."

"Do you, Dakota Rivers take Kamilah Sayeed to be your wife?"

"I super do."

"With the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you wife and wife. You may seal this union with a kiss."

Kamilah bent down and kissed Dakota chastely. Dakota wrapped her hands around Kamilah's waist and hugged her. It felt as if fireworks were going off in her heart and the feeling of her wife, in her arms was such an amazing feeling.

My wife...never going to get old of that. Kamilah though as she kissed Dakota under the starry night, a promise that she was going to stand by her wife’s side forever and always.

I think my heart melted. UWU

lowkey sad that bloodbound ended but hey! we got to marry her :))

like, reblog and let me know how you liked the one shot :))

#choices #playchoices #choices stories you play #choices stories we play #BloodBound #bloodbound mc #bloodbound 3 #bloodbound dark solstice #bloodbound book 2 #kamilah sayeed #choices kamilah #bb kamilah #kamilah x mc #adrian raines #serafine dupont #lily spencer #Anushka writes

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lapleuvoir · 5 years

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Mistwood- Zlei’sha’s Home Planet

-Xeutarion-

Xeutarion (zoo-ta-ree-on) is the biggest planet within the Stiller Spin Galaxy. It’s largely populated with bright-coloured flora and fauna, with lush valleys connected by pink rivers that sparkle like crystals. The planet is split cleanly: 50% water and 50% land.

The inhabitants of the planet are known as Xeutarins (singular: Xeutarin) (zoo-ta-rin(s)); a race heavily influenced by emotion, colour and symbolism. The appearance of these beings include: cold coloured skin and hair (ie blues, purples, greens), yellow facial markings and large, fully black eyes with long, pointy ears and can stand from 6-9 ft tall. They possess an acute sense of emotion and can detect the change in one’s demeanour effortlessly. Telepathy is a common way of communicating not just with each other, but with the flora and fauna of the planet too!

Yellow is the most prominent and revered colour within their society. It symbolises love and unity, which the Xeutarins base their morals and way of life around, making them a welcoming, peaceful race. They live in harmony with the flora and fauna of Xeutarion. The act of gifting another with a necklace made of Spinnerfans (a yellow flower reminiscent of a lily that glows) and Zyleen’s Tears (a vivid pink flower reminiscent of a peony that sparkles in the light) is considered a proposal !!

#c: zlei'sha cosmian #wip: mistwood #thewinedarksea #archistratego #merflk #noloumna #userlacie #scraphim #lux-scriptum #aesterea #newdivinities

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morningsmead-blog · 5 years

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Sky Full of Stars

Date: December 24 Location: Ashbourne Word Count: 1005 Triggers: Death, Panic Attack Summary: Allison participates in the Sky Lantern Festival

Allison had been pacing across her kitchen for the past thirty minutes, five sky lanterns watching her from the table. It was silly, she argued with herself. They’d been gone for centuries and a little piece of paper tied to some string wasn’t going to fix it. They were dead and some words sent into the sky wouldn’t bring them back. She couldn’t save them then, she wouldn’t suddenly save them now.

Self loathing burned through her veins as she glared at the lanterns, sitting there, judging her for her inaction. It was her fault. The thick, green banana leaves that she had carefully grown around thin branches began to shrivel and wilt until they fell to the table, unable to hold their form anymore. As her despair and anger began to overwhelm her senses, the other plants in the room began to yellow and fade, their small flicker of life unable to stand up against Allison’s power.

Hot tears spilled from her eyes as her kitchen disappeared, and she was once again in the faerielands, her team dropping one by one as their skin paled while she could do nothing but watch. Dropping to her knees, Allison buried her face in her hands and sobbed as she watched them die over and over again. And then it was Embric’s face. Embric, with his sweet smile and kind words. His hands burning and burning against her body until she couldn’t stop screaming.

And then, just as suddenly as the images appeared, they left and Allison was once more in her kitchen, alone, surrounded by dead plants. Struggling to raise her head, she could just make out the sound of laughter and singing outside her door as the familiar ding of her doorbell sounded throughout the house again. Carolers, she realised dimly. Of course, there’s carolers.

Bracing herself on a chair, Allison stood on shaky legs and went to open the door, to let them in, to beg them to go away, to scream. But when she got there, they had already left and were halfway down the street. She could just hear the beginning strains of The First Noel as the cold air swirled around her body, pulling her further and further away from the past. Carefully, she closed the door behind her and rubbed at her cheeks. She looked a fright, eyes puffy and red, her cheeks splotchy from the earlier breakdown but somehow, she felt a little better.

Heading back into the kitchen, Allison felt a few more tears slide down her cheeks as she took in the damage she’d done. Every plant in her kitchen was in some form of decay and she frantically set about trying to fix it. Some of the hardier plants, like the bushes in the corner, were able to be coaxed back to life as they shed their brown leaves and grew new buds. Some however, like the gentle flowering vines, were beyond saving. Those she gathered with tender hands and placed in the basket of the lanterns, whispering quiet apologies as she laid them to rest.

When her kitchen was clean once again, the few traces of her outburst cleaned away, Allison placed her hands on the bare skeleton branches of the lantern and concentrated. Blue flowers began to twine around the wood as large white roses bloomed in the center spaces, with pale pink lily of the valley filling in the gaps.

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I miss you. Please come back.

After each lantern was once again covered in flowers, she took the pen and paper and began to inscribe their names. The first one was for Mauvie, her flowing blue hair reflected in the hyacinths that weaved around the lantern. The second one was for Aerin and had large stalks of gladiolas sticking out every which way; she always looked like she had just stepped out from a windstorm and so would her lantern.

Treant’s was covered in moss and succulents. Despite his reservedness, he was a warm shoulder to cry on and always kept a level head about him. The fourth was for Clara. Her lantern was covered in snapdragons and ivy with small bunches of baby breath. She was the baby of the group and they always joked she would keep them young. Allison smiled sadly as she opened her eyes and saw the finished product. It fit Clara. They all fit.

Embric’s was last and as Allison once again closed her eyes, she was immediately met with flames. Pushing down her knee jerk reaction to smother them, she worked their fire into roses of varying hues, weaving their stems together until there was no space left. Staring down at her design, her chest tightened. The lantern was covered in roses of all shapes and sizes but the colours were all the same. A dark red that started and the base and slowly faded into a pale pink, the gradient reminiscent of the setting sun.

Before she left for the festival, Allison scrubbed at her face, trying to wash away the tear tracks. Staring at herself in the mirror, she searched her reflection for the girl she had once been but came up empty. It was just as well, she decided. Adaption was the key to survival after all – she’d already lost so much, it was no surprise she’d lost part of herself along the way.

That night she sent five lanterns into the sky and watched them join with the hundreds of other lights. If she looked around, she would have seen others: human, fae, vampire, werewolf, all wearing the same look on their faces. Despite their differences, all of them had lost people to the harshness of the world and they weren’t coming back. Underneath her coat, her willow bark armour hugged her torso reassuringly, as if she could turn around and see her team waiting for her so they could start their next patrol. She didn’t look away from the sky for the rest of the night.

#self para 001 #event: the christmas market

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demidiangelo · 5 years

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OC Stuff - Xeutarion

Xeutarion is the biggest planet within the Stiller Spin Galaxy. It’s largely populated with bright-coloured flora and fauna, with lush valleys connected by pink rivers that sparkle like crystals. The planet is split cleanly: 50% water and 50% land.

The inhabitants of the planet are known as Xeutarins (singular: Xeutarin); a race heavily influenced by emotion, colour and symbolism. The appearance of these beings include: cold coloured skin and hair (ie blues, purples, greens), yellow facial markings and large, fully black eyes with long, pointy ears and can stand from 6-9 ft tall. They possess an acute sense of emotion and can detect the change in one’s demeanour effortlessly. Telepathy is a common way of communicating not just with each other, but with the flora and fauna of the planet too!

#myoc*#<--- it's going in that tag lol #leah rambles

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thesweetblossoms · 6 years

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Blossoming Pear Trees

🎼Breakfast at Tiffanys by Truman Capote, A Tree Grows In Brooklyn by Betty Smith and The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton, are a few of my favorite books based in New York City. In each, I learned about the charms, qualities and history of the port town bordered by rivers and saturated with hopes, dreams, ambitions, adventures and ideas, each framed within its unique time and context. These books careful plots, characters, storyline, setting and subtexts offering a sliver of knowledge, into the eras thinking, behaving, cultural nuances, as well as the animated energies and perspectives, that shaped and influenced such a complex and captivating town.

In Breakfast at Tiffany’s, I was struck by the fathomless quarters of the heart, the vivacious and inimitable character of Holly Golightly, and the sumptuous homage to the renowned Manhattan nightlife, rife with its glamorous habitués, black silk Givenchy dresses, cocktail soirées and scintillating repertee. I read The Tree Grows In Brooklyn, while living on Roosevelt Island. Within the pages of this delightful rendering of childhood memories, I was gripped by the historical flavor of Brooklyn, the memories of life as a small girl in a lively neighborhood, and the universal experience of being a child tempered heavily with the backdrop of a multicultural new land. The Age of Innocence, portrays another world within the five boroughs, it spotlights, the heady world of upper east side mansions, park avenue town homes, sea escapes to Newport and Long Island, the closely knit and highly structured world of the old New York elite, and the inevitable barriers that plant themselves, in the purest love stories. The book is strewn with references and symbolic meanings of flowers; ‘His eye lit on a cluster of yellow roses. He had never seen any as sun-golden before, and his first instinct was to send them to May instead of the lilies. But they did not look like her- there was something too rich, too strong, in their fiery beauty.’

Having studied and lived in NYC for eight years during my early twenties to early thirties, I often miss the alchemical rush, fearlessness, possibility, dreamlike and magical qualities of living and experiencing one of the great world cities. Thus, a setting in Manhattan brings back the memories of my own time in the city, whether in the faint refrain of notes of music drifting from long ago nights dancing, flirting and imbibing cocktails in Soho with my dearest friends, remembering the anticipation of getting ready for nights out, in short, white, party dresses, also sprinkled with hazy recollections of ending up at somebodies apartment watching the sunrise over the east river, or rainy, rose and iris strewn June walks in Central Park, or hot chocolate from a café near the Met Museum, or of teetering in four inch hot pink stilettos to law firms in midtown or Wall Street, or even further, back to my first night of Law School, crying myself to sleep in a dark dorm room in Greenwich Village, to the day I left, unsure of the journey as the cab carried me across the midtown bridge to the airport, Manhattan lit up behind me, my passage barely dimming its intensity or power. My first stop was to spend a few weeks in the South of France before moving to Vancouver. While those trillion and one lights in the epic skyline glittered farewell, I didn’t know that I would create homes soon, in Vancouver, Los Angeles, Toronto and in my current home in palmy, light saturated and desert bewitched Phoenix, all within half a decade of leaving New York.

Of course, when I miss the city and its aphrodisiacal properties, reading a lighthearted, expressive and engrossing book, such as Sweet Bitter by Stephanie Danler, is transportive and thoroughly entertaining. In this book, I follow the hectic, hedonistic, raucous, fast paced and party filled days and nights of Tess, the small town heroine who moves to the city with hardly any money, to work at a celebrated and iconic NYC restaurant. The most riveting elements of the narrative beyond the illuminating yet relatively common premise of being young, confused, riddled with anxiety about the future, driven to the edges of exploration and self discovery, are the careful and considered details that are painstakingly layered, by the author, like nacre accumulating on a shell, to create a picture of one persons bewildering unfurling of time and space; of developing a crush and falling in love, of connecting with other people through post work hours of heavy drinking and drugs, of everyday group camaraderie, of obstacles and of the costs of taking a chance, of being hurt by the many thorns, blind spots and fractures within reality and of times reluctance to reveal the truthful bitter notes of existence to the untried and uninitiated. Along with the protagonists evolving ability to understand her own capacity for work, of her desire to party, and to chase the object of her desire at the risk of rejection, we are gifted with a rich, informative, luscious, compelling and beautifully conveyed dialogue, steeped in knowledge, brimming with anecdotes and lush with poetic names of revered wines, sherries and champagne. Readers are granted an epicurean education into the sybaritic realms of hospitality, of torn figs, marcona almonds, black truffle laced risotto, of fine cheeses, of terroir, of perfumery and of the effervescence, of those who chase the ephemeral, whether in briny winter oysters, mornings commenced with espresso and closed with half discarded bottles of celebrated wine, in rootless love affairs and in risking everything for the intoxicating New York City moment.

Sometimes nostalgia hits in painful ways, like a cut, tearing skin when scraping against a jagged wall, yet when I see my little son who was born in the city, or my husband, whom I met therein, or my daughter, who might one day visit my favorite museums such as The American Museum of Natural History on the Upper East Side, I don’t miss it that much, I become lost in my current adventure, in baking the family walnut, chocolate chip banana bread, in cutting shell white roses from my balcony garden, in hiking in the charged desert and realizing with the grace of hindsight, the I found both heartbreak and love, from a storied place, and that it is as close to me as my breath and as dear as the Callery pear trees that bloom in the early spring along the proud avenues and reverie misted streets.

Dwelling here in the present, I vow to write more about flowers. For a petal and dew drenched reality accumulates hope, positivity, happiness, reveries, ideas and inspirations. One is potently healed by the generosity and brilliance of blossoms, from witch hazel sprays, to lavender soap, to jasmine and vanilla perfume, to dried rose petal dipped madeleines to countless other floral injections. To be among flowers, is our most natural and exhilarating state, whether it is a summer picnic by a meadow of chamomile and violets, or a October harvest of basil blossoms and cosmos, or a spring seaside hike bordering a swell of wild lilies of the valley. Yet, no matter the climate, reading about flowers provides a season-less joy and bliss to those who might stumble upon a pressed peach pink peony, laid lovingly in the pages of The Painted Veil by M. Somerset Maugham, or to the person who receives a catalog of old roses, featuring Chateau De Malmaison from David Austin, or the person that seldom tires of dreaming about flowers, lost in the liminal botanical sphere, content with the written words about these delicate creatures, no matter the coordinates of the sun, or the exact location of ones own heart, beyond the garden.

In between the hours of work and play, sleep and wakefulness, dancing and being still, writing and reading, planting seeds and cutting flowers, I conduct a search for signs from the universe, fully aware, that there may be many that we are sorely deficient in sensitivity, imagination and consciousness to perceive. Perhaps these subtle jewel boxes of illumination render themselves mute, appearing as the earliest streaked lavender, roasted sweet potato orange and bleeding pink dawn in the morning, the horizon appearing as we are struggling to rise and challenge the random slights of the work week, or it could be the jasmine flower you discover on the desk by your computer, turning striped royal purple as it dries slowly, learning later, that it was left by a fellow attorney who has knowledge of your love for flowers, or maybe, proof of grace may arrive, as innocuously as the black holographic star decals, a gift sent along with the romper room nail polish you purchased in the mail, or it could be from the positive occurrence of an overdue text message from your beautiful, talented and successful law school roommate in Los Angeles. However, they appear, the ones that please you the most, are the ones you should carry closest to you, for these may be the keys to unlock your dreams, discover your nature and decipher your heart.

Though I often encounter unbounded bliss, dwelling in my garden by candlelight, under the mist laced stars, calmed by the analgesic dance of the palms and the steady flow of the water fountain, I have discovered an equal passion for delicate, fine or potent pieces of jewelry. My earliest memories of jewels are of tiny, delicate, faceted gold bangles, from my grandmother, that I wore on special occasions or events. I remember them mostly from old pictures of when I was four or five living in Sydney, but also recently, when my mother gave them to me, collecting them from the locker, for my little daughter to wear. Other reminisces include the memories of the joy, ceremony and fanfare when my parents gave my sister and I, little opal earrings as gifts, or when my mother lent me petite ruby and diamond flower studs to wear before a party, reminding me of their preciousness and to return them to her for safe keeping later. Perhaps, just as the energy, vibrations, subtle magic, healing and alchemical qualities of trapped fire, air, water and earth exert their influences over us, working in tangent with the myriad other cosmic objects that comprise reality, the wearer of these exquisite, handcrafted and artistic pieces also alter, influence and change the mystical qualities of the jewels. For after, I wear a piece, whether an heirloom, a vintage piece, or a newly commissioned trinket, I sense a change, both in my self and in the inanimate stone and metal. The jewel and the bejeweled act in concert to chase and trap the light, the anklet bells drifting into the music, the diamond engagement ring quietly drawing two souls closer and the emeralds earrings annotating the laughter and erasing the tears. 🎹

#design #healing #lifestyle #love #gypsy #style #bohemian #flowers #perfume #wellness #jewelry #gardens #gardeners #bookreview #books #newyork #manhattan #losangeles

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rosierthot-blog · 6 years

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Uh... for everyone in the spell asks... Flagrate and Incendio?

Flagrate - If you could write one thing in the sky, what would it be? ; Incendio - Do you like candles? If so, what’s your favorite smell?

Felix

When asked, Felix rolls his eyes and scoffs, “One thing I’d write in the sky? Really?” The prefect shakes his head, “I genuinely thought you all knew me better than that. Of course, it would say: ‘How many house points have you won for Slytherin lately’.” His dark eyes narrow, “In fact,” he straightens, a contemptuous look about him, “How many have you lost our noble house today?” The conversation hastily comes to a close. In reality, he reflects, maybe he’d like to write a few lines from one of his favorite songs. Maybe something from Lou Reed’s Trade In.

As for candles, Felix would never admit it but he is partial to something cinnamon and apple scented. Reminiscent of the Alps his grandparents call home, wintry or autumnal smells are his favorite.

Craig

“One thing I’d write in the sky…” Craig’s freckled face screws up in concentration. “Hm, let’s see,” a pale finger pulls at a red curl as the Scott’s brow furrows in Deep Concentration. “It would have to be something that would rile Felix up!” He concludes triumphantly, “Something like: Felix, I would die to touch your cheekbones or Felix Rosier, I fancy you and your erotic obsession with the house cup–I’m not sure though, those are all too literal for my liking.” He purses his lips, “This calls for some group brainstorming, care to get back to me on that one?”

Craig isn’t one for candles, but he knows at least that his parents have a few around the house. When asked what scents he prefers, he replied: “The ones that smell good.”

Valens

“Oh that’s an odd question isn’t it?” Val looks down at his interlocutor, almost arrogantly. His handsome face contorts in a storm of thought, soon calmed by an easy smile, “Well! Obviously it would have to be to Toni. Something like ‘I would die for you, bud’… Or something like that, I don’t know exactly.” He shrugs, returning to his reading.

He may not look it, but Valens is an incense boy. Perhaps it’s his family’s historical association with aristocracy and noble priesthood, or it’s Val’s penchant for drama. Or, it could be Val’s…casual…alright, invested interest in nicotine. Whatever the cause, Val prefers rose scented incense. That or some sort of musky, amber scent–so manly.

Nicola

Nick didn’t even have to think it through: “I’d want it to say, ‘I’ll wait for y–’ er, maybe just, ‘We’re moving back to Italy’” Her face goes red and she leaves with a hurried, “I really ought to be revising.”

Nick is a fan of something simple and floral scented, and yes–she does like a good candle.

Constance

“Oh! I’d probably write something about how much of an oblivious fucking twit Felix Rosier is,” she exclaims before the question has even been fully posed, “And how for, four years–four fucking years–I was so obvious. So obvious.” Her pale face is flushed and her black eyes are filled with irritation, “So fucking obvious. And almost everybody he meets–almost everybody–and, oh my god I almost punched him– I can’t even believe—” After a hasty excuse that there are other people that need to be questioned, Connie is left angrily muttering to herself in the Great Hall. Perhaps this had something to do with that conversation she’d had last night. The one where Felix bemoaned that he would never find somebody he was interested in because nobody ever liked him. All things considered, her frustration is more than understandable.

When she’s not exasperated to the point of tears by either Felix’s obliviousness and Craig’s—oh, everything—Constance does enjoy a good scented candle. Spending weeks on end dealing with these two, I deserve some luxury, she reasons solemnly. She loves a good rose scent, but she is particularly partial to jasmine or lily of the valley.

Antoni

“Hm,” Toni furrows his brow as he considers the question carefully. “Well, I guess mine is a bit cheating but, I think I’d write ‘Surprise Nicola!’ in the sky and then I’d surprised Nick with the news that we were spending the next month in Italy. I know she misses it a lot.”

Antoni isn’t all that interested in candles. When asked he said: “Not particularly fussed. I like whatever it is that Val burns in his room.”

Lucy

“Hmm, ooo that is a very fun question,” Lu says, her chin resting in her hands as she leans forward at her table. “Oh, I don’t know! I’d have to say something positive and encouraging! Like maybe, hmm, maybe ‘You’ll do better tomorrow!’ or ‘Don’t give! We’re all always rooting for you!’ I think that would be lovely!” At that time, far below in the Slytherin common room, Felix is overwhelmed with a sudden and unexplainable wave of nausea.

Lucy loves a good citrus scented candle. She is quite a keen mini candle collector, and so far has acquired the entire citrus family of scents. She’s always bemoaned Hogwarts’ ‘no candles in dormitories’ rule. In her opinion, the Hufflepuff dormitory could use a bit of ‘smell-scaping’.

#asks #felix #craig #valens #constance #nicola #antoni #lucy #slytherin #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #hphm #hp #harry potter #harry potter hogwarts mystery #felix rosier #prefect felix #hphm felix rosier #hphm felix

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royal-writer · 6 years

Text

-insert loud blubbering noises here-

There was still so much to be done, blast! It felt like the hands of the clock were flying across the face; for each time Amon looked, hours appeared to have slipped away. No amount of soothingly spoken words would settle the nervous-excitement energy that rippled around him. One second he was here, the next he was standing over there. It no longer did any good to pretend as though he wasn’t frazzled.

He cleared his throat to catch one of the florist’s attention. She turned her face towards him and bless her, even though this had to be the millionth time, she still held a polite and respectful smile while looking over her shoulder to him.

“Perhaps a little more to the right,” he offered, wringing his hands in front of his chest.

The woman merely nodded, quietly shifting the delicate blooms only just beginning to uncurl from their buds. By tomorrow, the entire church would be filled with open flowers and their sweet scent. White roses, arum lilies, and draping vines producing tiny ivory blossoms with golden centers he couldn’t recall the name of, all hung from the pillars and walls.

The bells of valley drooped near the doors and by the alter. Most were white, with dashes of soft pink hidden in the bunches for a splash of color. The final touch: yellow and pink kissed rhododendrons and stalks of yellow-eyed grass intermixed throughout for more of that golden sunshine look.

Elegant planters were filled with so many more mixes of flora. More still were being neatly wrapped with tulle and set in dishes of water to refrain from wilting. Someone continuously walked around; checking the health and status feverishly of each plant. Misting soil, misting stems, misting buds, adjusting the angle of plants for better lighting from the windows, and on and on they went.

The chandeliers was lowered for fresh wax candles to be replaced. The windows were being washed. The floor; trampled on with a few stray petals, constantly was being swept so no speck of residue lay upon it.

Behind him, Amon could hear snickered laughter. He pretended to ignore it. Meeting the woman’s eyes instead as she looked for his approval, he gave a slight tapping motion to the right with his finger.

She shifted the wreath of flowers once more, turning back.

An exhale on his lips with relief, and he nodded.

“Lord Amon, I never took you for a wedding planner,” Ravamora snickered; the first to break the ice in a fit of soft giggles.

“It’s too bad you never took the time to plan your house décor this nicely.”

Snorting through his nose, Amon whipped around to narrow his dark eyes at the young elf. She had a bold, cheeky little smile and her mess of brown hair was wrapped up in some strange rolls to better control her curls and frizz as a pre-wedding ritual; so she said.

“Leave the poor man alone,” Abernathy shot back, darting his gaze down to the short young lady.

Unwilling to rest his eyes too long on any of them, Amon was on the move again. On a series of careful heel-to-toe clicks, he prowled around the grinning group to inspect the quality of the carefully tied bows along the pews. Each one had to be spectacular; exactly seven folds with the ends curled.

“I don’t think I saw Amon this worked up even when we faced that old white dragon,” Adela giggled in a sing-song voice behind him.

“He was worse when Essätha was charmed by that vampire,” Penimra cut in absently.

“Oooh that was so long ago!” Adela laughed in reminiscence. “He was pretty distraught then, hmm?”

Amon tossed the duo a dirty look over his shoulder. Watching with annoyance the shit-eating grin on the tiefling’s face as she swished her tail, and the way the elf fluffed the ends of his long hair as his ears pointed straight up. Each indifferent to his reaction.

That reminder was very unsavory.

“If you’re going to spend the day before my wedding insulting me, perhaps you should find someone else to bother,” he spat hotly, turning away.

His boots snapped sharply against the floor after the remark. He was moving down the lines of seating to glimpse over more of the rows of bows. His thoughts wandered as he counted each furl… Ah yes, the seating arrangements. He needed to make sure those were prepared and the usher had the changes to the chart made. They couldn’t very well place the Thaddeus family beside the Bollwingers. They still had that squabble going on about an unpaid debt over a cheese wheel. Ridiculous…

“I’m still on for the wedding music, right?”

“Yes, Ilamin,” Amon sighed heavily, distracted once more from his line of thought.

“Good!” the Aasmir cheerily sang. “I always love weddings. Other than the crying, they’re always so gorgeous.”

A masculine gruff of someone’s tone, and Sulhadur spoke up almost timidly next: “Is there anything we can do to help, Lord Amon?”

“No thank you, I have this covered.”

Irritation still touched his voice that was somewhat distant; still distracted by a million thoughts. He’d need to go over his vows again. Pelor this was so unnerving.

“It would be no trouble-”

“I’ve got this, Sulhadur, thank you,” Amon breathed out slowly, reaching out to adjust the curls on one of the bows as his last words ended on a breathy sigh, “Everything has to be perfect.”

Cackle snorted. “Lord expects perfection? Look who Essätha is marrying.”

“Cackle!” Abernathy gasped loudly, a solid ‘thump’ as he whacked her in the shoulder with his massive hand. “That was incredibly rude!”

A snicker escaped Amon. Faintly at first, and then rising a bit in volume as the others bickered behind him. They continued on until his laughter was coming out in loud snickers Snorting softly; trying to pull it back in as an uncomfortable silence fell upon the party.

It was Abe who spoke up finally as he grew quiet; uncomfortably so, “Amon-”

“I guess I am expecting too much,” he stated, staring down into his callused hands.

He could easily imagine Essätha’s slender fingers sliding against his own; finding the spaces between each until their palms kissed. It filled him with exhilaration. His eyes softened to a half-closed state, drawing his fingers instinctively closed as though to hold the hand currently not resting there gently. Knowing his hands were rough; that they were strong and she was so soft in comparison; so soft he didn’t want to bruise or crush with brutal imprudence.

Someone reached out, grabbing him firmly by the shoulder to rouse him from his mind.

“You’re not,” Abernathy quickly murmured. “I think your attention to detail and your drive and focus is much to be admired. You’re putting a lot of care into this, and it shows. Essätha is going to appreciate all of your hard work. I guarantee it.”

In that moment, Amon was glad his face was aimed away from the crowd. He could feel the heat rise into his face from embarrassment. He hoped Abe was right. Every waking moment for the past few months Essätha and him in a whirlwind. Picking colors, picking flowers, picking music, picking who knew what. It was daunting; it was thrilling, it left them working together and apart and all over the place up until the very end, when attention was diverted to a his-and-hers only basis.

The blushing hues ran from his face rather swiftly as he was pulled sharply. Stumbling to the side with a sharp cry, Amon was forcibly turned to to face the group.

Abernathy’s face was close. Disturbingly close; his tusks peeking out further than normal in a sneer with eyes narrowed and jaw set. The shift of his shadow loomed over Amon as Abe stood as tall as he could and leaned down. Much of the later’s frame falling over the former.

“A warning,” the elf-orc growled in a low voice. “If you do anything that hurts my little girl, I will break your legs.”

Amon’s face drained of color until he was a pale white sheet.

Abrupt, boisterous laughter escaped Abernathy and he reached around, slapping him on the shoulder so hard he nearly fell against the man’s large chest.

Amon could only wince, reaching around to rub the aching spot where he was struck.

“I’m only pulling your leg!” Abe barked with laughter that cut off swiftly as he added with a stone-cold face, “No, seriously, I’ll pull it right off if you so much as make her shed a tear.”

Was… was this a joke? Amon could only bare a forced grin in response. The older gentleman looked deeply amused, so it was hard to tell if he was merely ‘pulling his leg’ or if he truly relished the idea of doing so should he fail his fiance.

He had no intentions on such a thing though, of course. The very idea made his stomach form knots. All he wanted was her happiness. Her captivating laughter. The sparkle in her eye; the adorable tug of her lips in a smile she tried to restrain but when she let it shine oh Pelor, it made his heart swell and sing and every thought shattered until only one thing remained: her.

No response ever did formulate in his mind to Abe’s remark. Instead, he stared at Abernathy without truly seeing him. A far-off look in his gaze; a surprisingly dreamy romantic sigh drawing out of his lungs.

There was a roar of laughter that dragged him out from his thoughts. With a suddenness, Abernathy’s arms were around him tightly. Very tightly.

Amon grunted a deep wheeze. Hesitantly, he reached up to pat the man’s shoulder.

And then there was Adela.

Then Ilamin.

Then Sulhadur, Penimra, Ravamora, and Cackle piled on as well, until he was surrounded in rib-crushing, spine-breaking tightness from every point. Arms around him, arms around each other, with warm laughter and snorted sniggers filling the sanctity of the chapel.

He snorted himself.

And then the laughter started to follow. Brightening his features, rasping from his tight throat as Rava threw her scrawny little arms there and strained his breathing. Trying to scale up anyone she could wrap her little limbs around, the tiny thing.

They were all foolish, crude, loud scoundrels. But they were his companions; his noisy bastards, and although sometimes the friendship was as much a joy as it could be a tiff, he cared for them all the same.

As chuckles faded away, everyone began to disperse. Most a bit awkwardly. Rubbing the back of their heads, looking away so not to meet another’s eye.

“You’re working yourself too hard,” Adela piped up first with a shy smile. “Why don’t you leave us with some of it? You can trust us to hold down the fort, or church. We won’t let you down.”

“Besides,” she tacked on, nodding to Rava. “We’ve got our secret weapon: the original home improvement manager.”

“Damn straight,” Rava muttered with a prideful glint in her eyes.

Amon hesitated, reaching up to scratch his beard thoughtfully as he murmured, “… I don’t know…”

“Pleeeaasssseee,” Rava breathed, pouting. “If I can obliterate your house in a day, I can command an army of workers! It’ll be easy. All I have to do is following the wedding book schedule, right.”

“Well-” he bit out; eyes fleeting away. “I- suppose…”

“It’s settled then,” Abernathy spoke up, beaming proudly. “We’ll tend to everything here.”

“Are you sure I can trust you not to set the church on fire?” he cautioned. “Or for Rava not to peel out of here with anything?”

“One time!” Cackle cawed. “Was an accident!”

“Rava won’t take a single thing!” Ilamin gasped with a hand to his collar. “She’s a sweet little angel.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Sul offered, grinning as he shrugged.

“Why did I get pulled into doing work?” Penimra whined, mostly to himself as he crossed his arms.

He couldn’t believe he was leaving the fate of his wedding in the hands of these people. Especially as he looked around; the hold shrine of Pelor filled with so much light and soft gold and white hues. No raging infernos, no monsters to fight, and too much to go wrong or things to get broken.

But… Looking at their pleading, concerned faces, he could trust them. Everything would be fine. Probably.

“I want a messenger sent to me every hour,” he threatened, waggling a finger as he stepped back.

Rolling her eyes, Rava gave a shooing gesture with her hand. “Updates will come if they keep you out of my hair.”

Amon swallowed his laughter. Indeed, in her birds nest was one place he’d rather not be ensnared. He’d probably have better luck escaping the vines of a hangman tree.

“Go now, shoo,” Adela advised, giving a sweeping gesture now as well. “We have this under control.”

With reluctance, he peeled himself free. Carrying down the hall, his eyes darting up and down the grand, warm-lit room with the afternoon sun hanging high and casting a brilliant glow inside. It made the temple look ethereal and glowing with life.

A grin stretched across his face. Growing wider and wider, the more it sank into his heart and soul. He was going to be married tomorrow. Married on the spring solstice. Him. All this time it hadn’t ever been something he counted on; something he wanted but now it was right there and he couldn’t wait.

He couldn’t wait to grasp her and to hold her close and see that ring on her finger and the joy in her face and kiss her over and over and over again. Feel the beating of his heart, the mimicked crazy pulse of her own and just smile. It was so surreal but so wonderful. Lady Essätha Illiad. The Lady of Briarton; of the Emerald Expanse, of his heart. It felt like such a fantastic dream but it was real. She’d said yes to him. She wanted to be with him.

In his fanciful visionary, Amon didn’t hear or see the person calling out to him as he took the small stairs out of the church. They were huffing as they dashed after him, laying a hand on his shoulder so that he jumped.

“What is it-”

Barnabus’ beaming face was looking upon him. Dressed in somewhat finer attire and his eyes wide and brimming with rejoice.

“Just stoppin’ by to confirm the barrels of wine you asked me to send for, and here you are!” the bartender laughed. “One of your assistants already quadruple checked for me. Seems a little on edge. You’re not driving ‘em mad, are you?”

Amon only gave a strained smile. They had this covered. He didn’t need to rush in and double check anything. Everything was going to be fine.

Barnabus squinted at him. Reading his face as he tried to lean away. The man reaching out to grab his shoulder tightly.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

A choked noise. “What? No. Hardly.”

“Aye! You are!” Barnabus laughed, patting his shoulder. “Ain’t noting to be ashamed of. Take it from me though; everything’ll go perfectly, even if something goes unexpectedly wrong. Can’t have everything squeaky clean, and that’s okay. Marrying a fine woman there, Amon, a very fine woman indeed. Never met such a lass as her. She seemed pretty quiet the first night there at the bar, but she had a lot of gentleness and a lot o’ spirit to offer. Never could forget her offer with the rest of ‘em to go save my girl.”

The genleman’s eyes softened considerably, and he shook his head. “Point is: she is a lovely woman, and she seems quite fond of you. You can’t control every outcome. And she’ll be good and happy just having ya, even if something goes amiss.”

Amon let the information sink in for a moment. A smile crept back over his previously shocked expression. He reached out, clapping his hand appreciatively on his old friend’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Barnabus.”

“Aye don’t mention it!” he beamed, chuckling. “I know a thing or two about wedding jitters.”

Wedding jitters. A fine term for it, he supposed while dropping his arm again to his side.

“Thank you for your help, Barnabus. Now if you don’t mind-”

“Oh-? Oh! Yes- carry on then, my friend, I’m sorry-”

“You’re quite alright, Barnabus it was… something I needed to be reminded.”

With Barnabus freeing him of his grasp, Amon headed down the walkway path so he could go fetch his horse. Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t be perfect, but he was going to make it as close to it as he could possibly do, and there was still work to be done.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Under one arm, a booklet with papers dangling in the same hand. In the other hand, a silver and gold embellished bracelet and shining silver coin stamped on one side with the Illiad crest and on the other, a simple snake. And finally, delicately hanging from her teeth as she tried desperately pushing her hair back with an elbow, a soft powder blue garter belt fashioned with flowers and weaving patterns adorned with sapphires.

All the properties a bride would need. Or at least, that’s what everyone said brought good luck to a marriage. Essätha found it a bit of an odd saying; and a bit unfair to put all the luck of the marriage on those five attributes. Placing no such saying on the man seemed unjust as well; but they were easy rules to follow so she couldn’t complain too much.

She wiggled the doorknob to the bedroom a few times with her hand holding less material before it finally opened. A relieved sigh escaped her as she nudged it open with her hip as the latch came undone. Turning into the room at an angle, her eyes making their way to her side of the bed where she could put her things on the nightstand-

The garter belt dropped out of her mouth and to the floor, and she was swift to stomp her foot down in front of it with a half-smile as Amon looked up; pulling his nose out from a wedding planner book.

His eyes lit up the moment they found hers. It made her heart tremble.

In unison, the two stammered: “What are-” “No you first-” “No you-”

Fumbling over words, Essie giggled to herself and shook her head.

“Didn’t you say you were going to be out all day?” she teased.

“I was- for part of it,” he admitted. “Unless you want me to go now…”

The sad, puppy dog look of his eyes even at a distance drained her of all resolve.

“No no- it’s- you’re fine I just- thought you’d be back later,” she mumbled, bending down to pick up the garter belt and tuck it in her book out of sight.

“It is past two, last I checked.”

“My dear, it is nearly five now.”

She glanced over to see embarrassment cloud over Amon’s face. He slapped the book shut in his hands before sliding it over to his nightstand.

“I knew that,” he sniffed.

Oh, the poor dear. She had to smile. It wasn’t even the reading material he normally got himself stuck into, but once he was engrossed time just melted away from him. He was so blessedly precious, how could she not adore him?

Essätha ignored the lingering stare that followed her now as she made her way over to the other side of the bed. Gingerly, she placed her items down on top of the side table one by one. Eavesdropping, listening to the sound of the bed creaking only just as Amon flipped over. The quiet padding of his feet moving around the room.

She shivered with anticipation…

And then spotted him out of her peripherals, moving off to a nearby dresser.

Oh, well. That was fine.

Heaving a sigh, she planted her rear on the edge of the bed after adjusting her things. Absent fingers brushed some of the dog fur from Ceasar off of her pants as she closed her eyes. What a long day it had been, and it still wasn’t even done.

Her eyelids fluttered open as the mattress sank beside her.

A glimpse, and her heart was faltering and breath drawn away. He was so unrealistically gorgeous. Who thought it was fair to give a man such compelling, strong features? Eyes deeper and more intense than ocean, dark hair and lashes, a wonderfully molded face of hard lines she watched to reach up and stroke and feel his muscles tense up as he tried not to smile. And that was just his face; with his strong brow, and chewable cute cheeks. And even that was an understatement, there was so much more to appreciate in his trimmed beard and kissable lips and oh gods-

She was so distracted, it took a moment to realize a wonderfully warm hand had been placed on top of hers.

“I have a question.”

She smiled.

“I might have an answer.”

He chuckled. Oh, how she loved his laugh. His true laugh.

“I had heard a little rumor you were looking for some things to complete a little rhyme tradition,” Amon mused curiously, leaning in. “What sort of things have you pulled together, hmm?”

Her mouth twitched into a false grin. Only a few people knew about that, dammit. Someone was going to get their butt handed to them. And she doubted it wasn’t going to be one of the house staff.

“Oh- I-” her face flushed red, swallowing. “I um, you know, just some things. I’ll be wearing my mother’s old ring that she got from her mother, the wedding dress is new, Adela is lending me a bracelet so that’s borrowed, the blue-”

Her voice cracked, faltering before she regained her composure, “The blue is an embroidered handkerchief.”

Not a lie, although a last minute preparation.

“And a sixpence of sorts that I think will do the trick.”

Her eyes were drawn down to her hand as she came to a stop. Gently squeezed in his grip, causing her ears and neck to turn red now with the rest of her.

“Would you consider adding one more ‘something old’ to that list?” Amon whispered, leaning in close to her ear.

She was grateful to be sitting, because her knees felt weak. A sudden lightheadedness, sense of euphoria as warm breath brushed along her neck and washed through her dark hair, causing shivers and goosebumps to break out.

“W-What do you mean?” she crooned.

Triumphant, Amon pulled away from her suddenly. Leaving her shaken, a bit cold as he brought out his other hand to uncurl his fingers.

A delicate necklace sat on his palm. The chain was extraordinarily thin; shining with a glint of silver so unusually bright Essätha wondered if it somehow had absorbed moonlight itself within it. But it was what dangled off the chain all around it that made it so mesmerizing, especially as he released her hand to hold it up properly to be viewed.

In looping patterns, the thin thin chain continued on in links. They started small, where they’d lay against the side of the next and gradually plunged a little deeper in each loop all the way to the center which came down the furthest. It was extraordinary; crafting patterns inside each loop with delicate persuasion to make abstract creations with glittering gems of the purest, cleanest white she’d ever seen. So faint, they were nearly transparent rather than milky and harsh.

He held it up for her to get a better look as she shied away, a hand to her throat as she lost her breath.

Amon cleared his throat, speaking softly as he looked from the necklace to her, “This used to be my mother’s. I think she would be honored to see you wear it.”

Tears welled into her eyes.

“I- I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” Amon cut in gently. “That is, if… If you like it-”

“It’s stunning but Amon that’s got to- I mean that’s priceless- and not just in beauty- I mean-”

Her lip wobbled. Overcome by the gesture. Overwhelmed by the piece; it’s glittering beauty like a strain of stars in the cosmos. It was too perfect, too expensive and too worthwhile to be placed on her. Even not counting what something of this grandeur would cost in actual value, it had belonged to someone so dear to her beloved. What if she broke the clasp; what if one of those gemstones knocked loose, what if…

“Don’t cry,” Amon exhaled in shock, placing the elegant jewelry on his knee as he reached up to wipe his thumbs against her cheeks. “Don’t cry- don’t cry you don’t have to-”

“I’m not worthy of that, or the responsibility of wearing it,” she muttered, glancing aside as she sniffed. Dragging her emotions back in, trying to keep herself intact.

A scoff, and Amon shook his head. His hands slipped away from cupping her face. Tucking hair behind her ears, then sweeping strays away from the nape of her neck as he leaned back.

“Hold still for me.”

She froze like a statue. Breath lodged in her throat. It kept her eyes from welling up as the dainty chain was drawn up to her neck where it laid flat as Amon pulled each end around. He cursed a few times, trying to get the small clasp to catch with his large fingers and then, a pleasant ‘aha!’ as leaned forward again to take a look.

Her face was glowing. Unwilling to meet his eyes as he tilted her chin with his thumb and index finger, checking the placement and fix of the family heirloom as the light shone against it.

Amon’s tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth with disapproval, and he wiped the pads of his thumbs against the corners of her eyes.

“It looks glorious on you, my darling Essätha,” he murmured. “Like it was made for you.”

Against her better judgment, her eyes darted over to his. Finding the warmth of his gaze, the love, the shine of the jewels in his longing stare.

She closed her eyes tightly, a smile on her face as she willed back her tears.

“Do you really think Lady Amelia would want me to be wearing this?”

Her next breath came out choked with surprise. Wide-eyed so suddenly, a shiver racing down her back as a tender kiss was pressed over her lips.

“She’d be begging you to,” Amon sighed, pressing a firmer kiss and then continuing to speak against her mouth. “She’d admire you. I have no doubt in that.”

“Your strong-” a kiss, “and brave-” another kiss, “and kind-” and another, “and you’ve got so much spirit; so much gentleness and magnificence in your heart and soul. You’re humble, modest, and elegant. You’re charitable and gentle and everything she’d ever want for me in a wife and more. I know she’d love you.”

She sat there. Moved beyond words; blinking slowly as the words sank in.

Amon pressed another kiss, feather-light, to her lips before retreating. A finger to her mouth, eyes dancing with adoration.

“Stay right here,” he urged.

He was up in a flash, leaving her staring after him with her mouth agape.

It was only a handful of seconds, and he was back with a hand mirror.

Oh, gods.

Gingerly, he turned it to her with a sheepish smile.

A strangled note pressed past her.

Essätha looked to the image of herself, away, back again and so on in repetitive order. They were so eye-catching; so vibrant and glittering in each and every gemstone. The refined craftsmanship left her at a loss for words. Whoever had made this piece had clearly taken a lot of time and love into making it. Untarnished by time; vibrant and lustrous.

“It’s gorgeous,” she rasped with emotion.

A hum of appreciation echoed in Amon’s throat. Still holding out the mirror, he leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek.

“That necklace is nothing; hardly a speck, to how beautiful I find you.”

She reached out to shove at him. Fingers to his chest, the will in her thoughts but-

He removed her hand from his chest, bringing it to his lips as tears trickled stupidly out of the corners of her eyes. Mortified, trying to turn her head away from the emotional turmoil. From him, and his damn softness and sweet nothings and charm.

Essätha doubted she’d ever get used to that. To his kindness; his endless supply of gently-spoken sweet nothings and the care he touched her with. Always gentle. Always patient. Always considerate and loving, looking to her like she held all the answers to his questions. As though she was someone special; as if she brought the sun and the rain and the air he breathed and gods he looked at her with so much love. Never judging, never holding things against her, never letting one disagreement keep him from her; from holding her, kissing her, forgiving her mistakes and cherishing her.

It was too much in all the best ways. She’d never loved anyone like she loved Amon. She loved her mother, she loved the friends she had made along the way and she had at one time loved the thrill of the chase and even at times the ease of which she could shatter a person’s heart when they thought her too exotic to let go and threw her their riches and valuables to try buying more of her time.

None of that person existed in her anymore. She had matured and flourished in new ways; in new places inside of herself. The emotional core she’d rendered obsolete all her life had been mended and allowed a chance to take in the world and progressively feel it all in a new way: laughter, hate, sorrow, fear, smiling, affection…

He’d helped her to find herself. Amon had been there, the one at her side for so long.

And now here they were. There he was, sitting in front of her and taking her and asking her to be his.

A vigorous nod made her hair bob.

“Yes,” she choked, clearing her throat. “Yes- I’ll, I’d be happy to wear it.”

The delight that beamed in his eyes had her heart reaching for the sky with elation. He leaned in quickly, brushing kisses along her cheeks and eyes in gentle pecks to dab away her tears.

“Thank you,” he replied in a husky voice drawn with emotion.

… To Be Continued …

#eci artz #Essie rw #amon illiad #essamon ship #i'm so tired i need to sleep but i really wanted to post this even if it's unfinished so i'll break it into pieces #ignore the lotr reference cough cough

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