#traversing draperies

[janedoodles]

Traditional Bedroom - Guest An illustration of a medium-sized traditional guest bedroom with a dark wood floor and a brown floor and beige walls.

[protector-of-the-small]

Traditional Bedroom - Guest An illustration of a medium-sized traditional guest bedroom with a dark wood floor and a brown floor and beige walls.

[shipsi]

Nashville Living Room Open Living room - large contemporary open concept medium tone wood floor and brown floor living room idea

[matakaca]

Bathroom Dallas Example of a medium-sized transitional 3/4-tile blue bathroom with shaker cabinets, white cabinets, marble countertops, a one-piece toilet, and blue walls. The bathroom also has a drop-in sink, white cabinets, marble countertops, and marble floors.

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode illustrée, no. 37, 15 septembre 1889, Paris. Toilettes de Mme Gradoz, rue de Provence, 67. Collection of the Rijksmuseum, Netherlands

Robe en crépon vert-de-gris et surah nuance héliotrope clair. — La jupe, faite en surah, est garnie sur son bord inférieur de deux larges galons d'or d'éclat très atténué. La robe, en crépon, drapée en paniers sur les côtés, découvre la jupe par devant et tombe droite par derrière (aussi longue que la jupe de dessous). Le corsage, froncé à l'épaule, est fait en crépon et s'ouvre largement sur une guimpe en surah, plissée à tout petits plis. Un galon d'or traverse cette guimpe en sautoir. Col en même galon. Les manches, drapées, faites en crépon, s'arrêtent au-dessus du coude et sont complétées par des bas de manches plissés, faits en crépon, retenus au poignet par un galon d'or. Tout le contour du crépon, robe, paniers, manches, corsage, est festonné à petites dents en soie vert-de-gris.

Dress in verdigris crepe and surah in a light heliotrope shade. — The skirt, made of surah, is trimmed on its lower edge with two large gold braids of very attenuated shine. The dress, in crepe, draped in baskets on the sides, reveals the skirt in front and falls straight in the back (as long as the underskirt). The bodice, gathered at the shoulder, is made of crepe and opens widely onto a surah guimpe, pleated with very small pleats. A gold braid crosses this guimpe in a saltire. Collar in the same braid. The draped sleeves, made of crepe, stop above the elbow and are completed by pleated sleeve ends, made of crepe, held at the wrist by a gold braid. The entire outline of the crepe, dress, baskets, sleeves, bodice, is scalloped with small verdigris silk teeth.

—

Robe en peau-de-soie glacée mousse et rose et moire grenat. — La jupe est faite en peau-de-soie drapée devant, ornée sur son bord inférieur d'une haute bordure brodée en soutache. Sur chaque côté, sous les bras, la jupe est interrompue par un gros pli en moire. Le corsage, en forme de petite veste, est fait en moire. L'un de ces revers est brodé, l'autre uni. La draperie de la jupe, remontant sous la veste (celle-ci est ouverte sur un plastron en peau-de-soie brodée), est retenue par deux gros boutons. Manches en peau-de-soie brodée, avec jockey un peu bouffant, en moire.

Dress in mousse and pink glazed peau-de-silk and garnet moire. — The skirt is made of peau-de-silk draped in front, decorated on its lower edge with a high embroidered soutache border. On each side, under the arms, the skirt is interrupted by a large moire pleat. The bodice, in the shape of a small jacket, is made of moire. One of these lapels is embroidered, the other plain. The drapery of the skirt, rising under the jacket (the latter is open on a plastron in embroidered peau-de-silk), is held by two large buttons. Sleeves in embroidered peau-de-silk, with a slightly puffed jockey, in moire.

[mauvais--sang]

« L’image du corps subit comme une "extraversion" l’étrange contrainte d’un mouvement du dedans au-dehors, dans ce sens que l’intérieur de l’organisme tend à prendre la place de l’extérieur : les poumons avec leur vaste draperie se voient extériorisés, se déployant sous forme d’ailes entre ce qui était les épaules, les bras et les jambes – le passage qui relie la bouche à l’anus, l’œsophage avec son estomac et ses intestins, cette surface intérieure semble traverser toute la profondeur de l’organisme pour devenir en pleine lumière, tel un gant retourné, l’épiderme du corps ; à l’endroit où se trouve cette première vertèbre, c’est-à-dire le crâne, la dentition se placerait pour couronner le tout. »

—Hans Bellmer, L'anatomie de l'image, 1957 [via]

[claudiaciardiautrice]

📜Wrapped in red draperies, a #symbol of boldness, passion, sensuality, among #books and magical objects, painting celebrates their #mystery and the treasures they bring to the world as portraits of sibyls and queens, enchantresses s or artists.

🌹The red and white, the scarlet robe, the whiteness of turbans, #blood and #marble, the #heart offered to #poetry, the #veins of stone.

📖Works diverse in age, style and subject matter, yet traversed by a vibrant energy that animates a common and long-lived #imagination.

From my article "I am many."

Portraits of #Sibyls.

👑Avvolte in rossi panneggi, simbolo di audacia, passione, sensualità, fra libri e oggetti magici, la pittura ne celebra il mistero e i tesori che portano nel mondo come ritratti di Sibille e regine, #maghe o artiste.

🌹Il rosso e il bianco, la veste scarlatta, il candore dei turbanti, il #sangue e il #marmo, il #cuore offerto alla #poesia, le #venature della pietra.

🖌️Opere diverse per epoca, stile e soggetto, eppure attraversate da una vibrante energia che anima un #immaginario comune e longevo.

Dal mio articolo "Io sono molte".

Ritratti di #Sibille.

https://www.claudiaciardi.net/2025/04/26/io-sono-molte/

📌 Ginevra #Cantofoli (Bologna, 1618-1672), Ritratto di Sibilla

📌 Orazio #Gentileschi, Ritratto di giovane donna come Sibilla (1620 circa), la modella del dipinto è sua figlia, Artemisia Gentileschi.

📌 Diego #Velázquez, Sibilla con Tabula Rasa,1648, Meadows Museum, Dallas, Texas

[vixnovacoda]

The Cure We Seek Chapter 2

Astarion x f!Tav

Word Count: ~1.7k

Summary: Set after the events of the Mindflayer tadpoles and the Netherbrain, Astarion and fellow companion Nemeia spent years in search of a cure for the free vampire spawn where they have taken to settling down within their splendid city of Baldur's Gate and trying to establish a life of normalcy for themselves in a world that aims to constantly work against them as a dark past threatens the couple's peace.

[Chapter 1]

[AO3]

Astarion

Baldur’s Gate. A fine city and where many call home, even if for one it was hell on the Prime Material plane for two centuries. This city, with its obnoxious taverns, seedy streets, and colourful districts with nobility and the like, would always be home to Astarion despite the years he spent adventuring away from it and the tainted memories Cazador graciously gifted. Though, that man – the monster – was dead. His former master’s palace razed to the ground as a last act of defiance before his life in Baldur’s Gate could finally be his once more. Nemeia had given him the torch. Astarion had let it burn. He watched the orange embers rise above the burning wreck, saw them flitter and glow under the night sky, the half-moon that night cascaded from above in its starry rafters as if it was watching, judging him with a proudful leer, and all the while he stood, torn; half-pleased to be rid of it all; half-conflicted. Two hundred years felt longer than a blink, and yet there it went within minutes. A whole life gone, vanished like the one Cazador Szarr took from him originally. Astarion did not like the concept.

   We burn the past so we may build a better future from the ashes , Nemeia had told him because she always said something of the sort – because that’s what he got for falling for a druid. There will always be a part that remains, but we move on, changed, together , she added as stone remained tall against the licks of fire, and so they did. Together, they built a quant home worthy of both nobility and the druid lifestyle within the vast walls of Baldur’s Gate’s Lower City and away from that place. It was a meld of compromises. Big enough to host parties. Small enough to contain the bare necessity of rooms (rooms that didn’t feel too empty when stood occupied by two people) for a two-person household. Away from the hustle and bustle of city life, yet close enough that they resided on a once lone street corner where the taverns and inns were more than a walking distance off. Lavish stone masonry and wrought iron work with two decorated floors. Oaken framework and interior panelling, bordering on cottage-esque as numerous greenery sprouted along empty cracks and spaces to contrast the thick drapery. An eclectic place. It was almost normal, but with constant curtain-drawn windows and overgrown plants which refused to be contained inside the garden, it was clear the inhabitants were of the non-human and non-city folk variety.

   Perfect for them either way. Being normal didn’t seem like a strong suit of theirs.

   They weren’t normal.

   When Nemeia scurried forth from one narrow hallway to a more open, red-carpeted hallway, Astarion did not stop her. When she traversed through darkness and placed her hand on the silver handle of the front door. He dared not attempt it. Instead, he simply kept his distance after allowing an adequate amount of seconds to pass, for he is an ever-lit candle, burning for all eternity. All things go out before him. If he doesn’t go out first, that is; if someone cuts his wick short.

   Everyone will leave sooner or later. That, he is sure in for why would anyone willingly subject themselves to the misery of his company, the fucked-up-ness of his life, what he’d done and had been done to him? Hells, he never even thought about being married; never had the opportunity to, and while he’s sure that forever would be better by Nemeia’s side, he has no clue what to do now in order to keep that, the one thing which has done him good and left no scar, other than return what was burrowed; her kindness. And yet, despite the years of keeping to her word, he stands braced like the good vampire spawn he was, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

   But she remains. She is better than I ever could be, believed Astarion.

   But he is wrong. For Nemeia had seen something in him, a light, a flame, and she knows what he can do. At least, that’s what she would always argue because they always have this discussion every other month.

   A candle may burn, but it needs fuel to live. His fuel is her reassurance and there is one thing which is certain: he does not know what he’d do without her. With her, he burns brightly; for her, he will burn brighter; for himself, he wants to burn the brightest. To do right.

   A bright godly glow eclipsed Nemeia’s form from the door as odd rays of sun peeked into the darkened hallway. “Gandrel?” her voice echoed past melted candle wax. Not confused, but intrigued. They both were, though Nemeia carried a tone lacking much energy. In a fairness Astarion did not blame her for, she was tired and the Gur monster hunter’s arrival at their doorstep always promised something wild which she had her fair share of recently.

   Astarion peered around the pillared bend. The uncanny silver of a crossbow bolt glinted with the Gur’s shifting posture, firmly attached to Gandrel’s back while his fist mid-raised, lowered. Though a threat, he was not. “I am sorry to disturb your rest, my friend,” said the monster hunter between hastened, sweating breaths as his towering self rested in the doorway. “But I would not have come if the matter was not urgent at best.”

   “Urgent how?” she inquired.

   “It is best I show you, please.”

   Nemeia’s grip strained taut muscles. “Gandrel. We have an agreement, yes. But you do not just come to my home demanding my honour to help by stating it is urgent without telling me why. So, explain.” In that moment, Astarion swore he spotted the Gur’s perspiration change from exhaustion to that of something sweeter, a brief touch of fear as ivy vines crawled across the walls in response to their druid’s irritants, snaking and nudging his well-worn boots. Most knew better than to mess with a druid, hells even Astarion had made that mistake once and even Gandrel before, but that did not stop him from stepping forward and leaning closer, uttering quiet words like they were sacred, “It’s a child. Neither undead nor mortal.” The vines halted around his feet in a curious silence. “They are what my people call a Dhampir, a half-vampire, much like you and I, but with the added appetite of a vampire.”

   At that, Astarion crept forward and about his shadowy domain, feeling the weight of a thousand questions upon his knitted brow and spoke, “I don’t see this so-called half-blood, which, as I last checked the terms of your and my wife’s agreement, goes against what we discussed. We don’t do the dirty work of validating rumours for you.” He leaned against the nearby kitchen archway, arms crossed, his trust not fully earned as he bit back his tongue.

   “He’s right. You agreed to bring those deserving a second chance at a life they didn’t choose here and we brought them to a safe haven, teach them to relive, to adapt. We give them a community where they can’t harm anyone,” said Nemeia, the sharp edges of light coating her now softening – yet, even so, did not mean it could not still burn. She watched the monster hunter, unarmed and no threat, plead to her better nature with desperate beady eyes. He cared not for the opinion of the vampire spawn he once almost killed, and Astarion understood his choice. It was a better play to appeal to her than to him. She wouldn’t say no; too kind. “This isn’t like you, Gandrel. Where’s the child? Why the urgency?” she asked.

   “I…” Gandrel briefly threw his gaze over his shoulder in a move recognisable only as being cautious for the unwanted. “I’ve hidden them. There’s a group after the Dhampir child. I do not know what they want with them but me and my clan can only suspect it is nothing good. It’s why I hurried, I wasn’t sure the way was safe, and I believe it won’t be long before they track us to this city which is why I must ask you to come with me now before it’s too late and our tracks will be uncoverable,” divulged he in a hurried pace like the words were running from his brain to his tongue.

   Nemeia shifted back and forth along her heels with an itch. “Where to?”

   “The docks.”

   She glanced over at Astarion, sharing in a look for permission. However long it took, he knew she didn’t want to leave his side, yet she felt duty-bound. Deep down, in her heart, she was druid through and through – sticks and moss probably taking that vital organ’s place – and, as she had taught him, nature is untameable. She was a vessel of nature, and he knew his place in her day-lit world. He could not stop her if he tried, for that was what he agreed to by loving her in the first place, and loving her was like loving the sun that worshipped her body. Sometimes it would hurt. “Go, do what you must, my love,” he told her, ushering her off with a cursory wave and no sooner did Nemeia leave after planting a warm kiss on his cheek, the door creaking shut behind her, the burn of her touch her only echo.

   Besides, Astarion could handle himself fine. He doubted the affair would take too long, anyway. It was to be as temporary as a mortal life. Then they’d be reunited and could rest away the rest of the morning light to bathe under the teasing moonlight, as they should be. As it always should be. But that’s a fool's dream, he supposed, with no one else around to disperse lonesome thoughts. A vampire and a mortal . What a ridiculous hope.

   Then again, if such a Dhampir child exists, then that changes everything. Maybe there was more to this stale routine of a life. Funny how he never considered the possibility before and now of all times. Who’d have thought a child could bring such feelings of hope? Not him. No. Definitely not this vampire spawn with no family of his own to recall, except that of his adoring wife, whom he adored staggeringly.

   But perhaps this might be what they needed.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 21

Warnings: None. However, future chapters will contain sexual content so readers that are under the age of 18 may have to skip those chapters (Please keep note of the warnings).

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

𝕴 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 my feet in the sea, looking out at the storm. March had slowly melted in April and April showers bring May flowers so the wind bustled around me, blowing my dress out in front of me. Remus was not asleep, though he was quiet in my arms, looking at the storm with me. 

Trang was not with me for once, staying up at the house. She said I was crazy for coming out here at this time, but I couldn't stay inside. I knew dad was coming tonight, to tell everyone that his son had been born. 

That my brother had been born. 

It was weird, that this boy who I would not meet until his father was dead, would be the brother I got to recognize first, before my blood one. 

I was to melancholy to stay with them. So I stayed outside, telling Remus a story. 

In the depths there is a man lost in time. 

He has opened the wrong doors. Chosen the wrong paths. 

Wandered farther than he should have. 

He is looking for someone. Something. Someone. He does not remember who the someone is, doe snot have the ability, here in the depths where time is fragile, to grasp the thoughts and memories and hold on to them, to sort through them to recall more than glimpses. 

Sometimes he stops and in the stopping the memory grows clear enough for him to see her face, or pieces of it. But the clarity motivates him to continue and then the pieces fall apart again and he walks on not knowing for whom or what it is he walks. 

He only knows he has not reached it yet. 

Reached her yet. 

Who? He looks toward the sky that is hidden from him by rock and earth and stories. No one answers his question. There is a dripping he mistakes for water, but no other sound. Then the question is forgotten again. 

He walks down crumbling stairs and trips over tangled roots. He has long since passed by the last of the rooms with their doors and their locks, the places where the stories are content to remain on their shelves. 

He has untangled himself from vines blossoming with story-filled flowers. He has traversed piles of abandoned teacups with text baked into their crackled glaze. He has walked through puddles of ink and left footprints that formed stories in his wake that he did not turn around to read. 

Now he travels through tunnels with no light at their ends, feeling his way along unseen walls until he finds himself someplace somewhere sometime else. 

He passes over broken bridges and under crumbling towers. 

He walks over bones he mistakes for dust and nothingness he mistakes for bones. 

His once-fine shoes are worn. He abandoned his coat some time ago. 

He does not remember the coat with its multitude of buttons. The coat, if coats could remember such things, would remember him but by the time they are reunited the coat will belong to someone else. 

On clear days memories focus in his mind in scattered words and images. His name. The night sky. A room with red velvet drapery. A door. His father. Books, hundreds and thousands of books. A single book in her hand. Her eyes. Her hair. The tips of her fingers. 

But most of the memories are stories. Pieces of them. Blind wanderers and star-crossed lovers, grand adventures and hidden treasures. Mad kings and cryptic witches. 

The things he has seen and heard with his own eyes and ears mix with tales he has read or heard with his own eyes and ears. They are inseparable down here. 

There are not many clear days. Clear nights. 

There is no way to tell the difference here in the depths. 

Night or day. Fact or fiction. Real or imagined. 

Sometimes he feels he has lost his own story. Fallen out of its pages and landed here, in between, but he remains in his story. He cannot leave it no matter how he tries. 

The man lost in time walks along the shore of the sea and does not look up to see the lack of stars. he wanders through empty cities of honey and bone, down streets that once range with music and laughter. He lingers in abandoned temples, lighting candles for forgotten gods and running his fingers over the fossils of unaccepted offerings. He sleeps in beds that no one has dreamed upon in centuries and his own sleep is deep, his dreams as unfathomable as his waking hours. 

"Elizabeth!" 

"At first the bees watched him. Followed him while he walked and hovered while he slept. They thought he might be someone else. 

He is just a boy.  A man. Something in between. 

Now the bees ignore him. They go about their own business. They decided that one man out of his depth is no cause for alarm but even the bees are wrong from time to time. 

"Elizabeth!" 

This time I heard the shout, the first I thought an imagination or just a strange production of the wind. 

It's my fathers' voice. 

I close my eyes while Remus stirs, looking over my shoulder. 

I heard footsteps step into the water and that is when I finally turn around to face my father for the first time in months. 

Even the state of me being pregnant does not take the joy out of his eyes or the colour from his cheeks. He looked younger than I had seen him, at least since I had been a young girl myself. 

"It's a boy!" He said, his voice full of the same joy as his eyes. 

"I know." I said with a smile that I could make reach my eyes, no matter how hard I tried. "I saw. Teddy, it's a wonderful name dad. I am so happy for you." 

"You'll be the Godmother of course?" He asked, as though there was no other choice. 

"Really?" I asked. This time, the astonished smile did manage to reach my eyes. 

"Of course!" He exclaimed, looking surprised that I was surprised. "Who else would I choose?" 

I just shrugged with a smile, feeling a drop of happiness warm my insides. "I'm really, really happy for you two dad." I leaned forwards so that I could rest my head against his shoulder, giving him the best hug that I could manage. 

It was then that he sort've snapped out of his own daze. "You're pregnant?!" 

"Twins." I replied lightly. 

Dad hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something, but also not wanting to say something. When I met his eyes though, I saw the disappointment there, which punched me in the gut so hard that I actually put a hand to my stomach as though I could soothe it. 

"That's. . . that's great sweetheart." 

We stood there silently on the beach, both of us avoiding each others' eyes. I swallowed back my tears, knowing that this could very well be one of my last times with him. So I said the only thing I could say to save the situation. 

"They might not be Severus'." 

I watched his expression furrow with confusion, before understanding, and finally his eyes filled with pity. "Oh, Elizabeth." 

I pushed my hate far, far down for my dad's reaction. I refused to let any other emotions besides positive ones surround my last times with my father. Even if they were fake for me, I would not let my father die with the idea that our last interaction was negative. 

Though, of course, he would not die at all since I would save his life. 

"You should get back to Tonks and Teddy dad." I whispered. "They need you." 

"E-" 

"I love you." I said firmly, kissing his cheek. "Get back to your son. I should put my own down for sleep." 

It was so weird, referring to the little boy as 'his son' instead of 'my brother' or even just calling him 'Teddy'. I knew then that I was not hiding my feelings as well as I had hoped. Dad would see right through me, just as he always did. 

Just like he always would. 

"Elizabeth just wait a minute." Dad said, reaching out to grab my elbow, since both hands were occupied with Remus. 

I turned back to him, looking into his warm, brown eyes. 

He pulled me into a full hug this time, his arms wrapped strongly, safely around me. I vowed right then and there that this would not be the last hug my father would give me. I would make sure to get another hug, and another. I would keep him alive, even if it cost Tonks and Fred. No matter what, I would keep my father. 

Even if it cost me myself. 

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖐 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖔 much Bill. And you, Fleur. We're sorry we stayed so long, but it was just beautiful." I said as Trang and I stood in their front yard, getting ready to disparate back to mountains outside of Hogsmeade. 

"I actually wish you two could stay longer." Bill chuckled, hugging Trang first, and then me. "It's been nice, having company." 

"Yes, we shall miss you both." Fleur said, hugging both of us as well, also kissing Remus on the forehead. He giggled, kicking his feet, reaching for her. "Aww." Fleur cooed to him, taking him from my arms to give him one final hug. The two of them had bonded greatly over the entire month we'd been here, and I knew they'd miss each other. I would make sure to reunite them again. 

I knew that next week, Harry, Ron, and Hermione would take off for Gringotts. I was looking forwards to hearing about it- in the newspapers. 

"We should go now." Trang said softly. 

Fleur kissed Remus a bunch of times, making the baby giggle, before handing him back to me. Trang and I disapparated on our own without another word and appeared several feet apart from each other. 

Trang and I stared at our stuff and Remus for a moment, wondering just exactly how we were supposed to get back to Hogwarts in broad daylight, when a figure came around the corner, stopping dead at the sight of us. 

All three of our wands' were raised in seconds before recognizing each other. "Severus." I sighed happily, lowering my wand. 

Severus rolled his eyes. "You are far to trusting Elizabeth. Can you at least attempt to let me ask you a question and you ask me one?" 

I huffed, "What kind of kids am I having?" 

"Twins. To easy." Severus responded. 

I rolled my eyes again and then became a cat, which was a slight mistake because Remus was suddenly falling through thin air, as I could not hold him as a cat. 

Severus lunged, falling on his stomach as he caught our son and I turned human again, laying on my side. "I think that answered everything." I said lightly, though my heart was pounding. Remus however, just giggled, waving his hands excitedly. I think he liked it. 

"Merlin, Elizabeth." Severus said weakly, rolling over onto his stomach, setting our son down on his chest. He glanced over at Trang. "I suppose you're fine." 

"Gee, thanks." Trang rolled her eyes, but smirked to herself. 

"Uh, back to the castle?" I asked weakly. "Sorry." 

Severus huffed, kissing the top of my head. I turned back into a black cat, hopping into Severus deep pockets. A second later, a pocket watch was placed beside me, engraved with Vietnamese artwork. I rolled my eyes, settling my paws on the metal as though it would keep Trang safer. 

Severus moved quickly and I could hear the townspeople talking about their day to day lives in hushed whispers. I supposed that had to mean he'd hidden our luggage and Remus in his other pocket or somewhere. 

He made a stop after about twenty minutes, pulling the watch out. I heard him tell Trang that wherever we were was the safest place for Trang, then he was walking again. 

After another ten minutes or so, he was reaching into the pocket again, lifting me out. He placed me up on his shoulder and I could see that Remus was fast asleep in his crib now, his thumb in his mouth, his owl stuffed animal tucked against him. 

I turned human, pulling Severus down onto the bed at the surprise of me transforming. 

"I've missed you." He murmured, kissing me on the cheek. 

"I've missed you too." I said with a small smile. "How was uh, your visit with him?" 

He frowned. "I wish I had a forewarning about that. My heart leapt, thinking of you still being here." 

"Hence, why we left." I said lightly, cupping his face. "Besides, I figured I'd keep as many things the same as possible. This timeline is to important to mess up or screw around with, even with the smallest of changes." 

"I understand." Severus said softly. "I just wish it didn't have to be with me worrying about you all of the time. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you." 

"You're never going to have to find out." I said softly. 

Severus hesitated and then said, "Dobby has not delivered dinner for quite some time. I just. . . Are you. . ." 

I looked away sadly. "I don't really want to talk about it Sev. There wasn't. . . I couldn't do anything. He didn't wear the clothes I made for him and since he didn't. . ." 

"I get it. I'm sorry." He murmured. I looked up at him, wishing I could voice all of my worries aloud. But I couldn't. His life was one of the ones I needed to protect. 

"Anyways." I said quickly, struggling to sit upright. Severus quickly got up, helping me up into a sitting position. "Uh, do you have another elf who I could ask to get some hot wings? I'm craving them again and the spicy food will also help with the pregnancy." 

"Yeah, of course." Severus murmured. "I'll be right back." 

He left the room and I wiped at my eyes quickly as I tried to take in all of my emotions at once. I did deep breath exercises until I heard the door open again, the smell of spicy chicken wings intruding my senses. My mouth started to water immediately and the corner of my mouth lifted up into a smile. 

He put the plate down for me on a wooden TV tray (although he just called it a sick bed dinner table) and then asked if I needed anything else. 

"Can you just sit with me for a little bit?" I asked softly. "I'm really sorry I'm in such a depressed state. Maybe it's the pregnancy." 

Severus chuckled a little. "You're actually sorry for being down? Elizabeth you can see the future of everyone you love dying, your brother is on the run, your grandfather-in-law through Tonks has been murdered, you're stressed about all your friends, you're pregnant, and you're trying to save the world- your world anyways- all on your own. I'd be worried if you weren't depressed." 

I took a bite of my chicken wing and hummed in satisfaction. "These give me so much happiness though." 

Severus chuckled. "Well, you can have as many as you want." 

I smiled then, a true smile. "I love you Severus." 

He kissed the top of my head. "I love you more." 

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"𝕴 𝖍𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚!" The words ripped from my lips as I grasped the bed sheets in pain as another contraction hit. 

"Push." Madam Pomfrey said simply, trying to regain my attention. 

Severus smartly kept his mouth shut, sitting by the bedside, letting me dig my nails into his hand. 

"I can see his or her head, you need to push Miss Kane." Madam Pomfrey said firmly. 

"I am pushing!" I snarled. 

Severus squeezed my hand lightly. 

"There we go." Madam Pomfrey said, unfazed, the pressure dwindling just slightly as the first baby exited me. She took the bloody baby, quickly handing the baby up to me. I could see that it was a little boy, the little bit of hair that he had was black. 

"Oh, Severus." I cooed now, "Look at him." 

"He's beautiful." Severus whispered softly. The baby whimpered, opening his eyes to show that they were a beautiful brown. 

"Headmaster, you should take the baby until the next one is out." Madam Pomfrey said. 

I felt my heart fall at the idea of having to let go of my baby so soon, even to his father. Severus however, seemed to be able to get how I felt because he shook his head. Madam Pomfrey gave him a slightly exasperated look, but focused solely on helping me deliver the second baby. 

"Elijah." I gasped out. 

"What?" Severus asked slightly. 

"Elijah Kingsley Snape." I said again, crying out from another contraction. "We would call him Elijah Kingsley. I just. . . I don't know his name just suddenly popped out." 

"It's a beautiful name." Severus said softly. "Very, well," He chuckled. "Royal." 

It took another thirty minutes for the second child to come out, which were full of Severus encouraging me, me yelling at both him and Madam Pomfrey, and Madam Pomfrey giving me times to push. 

This time, it was a beautiful baby girl that Madam Pomfrey delivered from me. I relaxed into the sheets, sweating and panting, but excited all the same. 

"Alright, let me check their eyes." Madam Pomfrey said, taking both of the babies into her arms, bringing them over to a table she had set up when Severus had rushed to get her. It took only thirty seconds, before she carried both of them over, a smile on her face. "They both have beautiful eyes Miss Kane." 

I smiled, tears coming to my own. "Thank you Madam Pomfrey." I whispered, taking both of the little babies into my arms. 

"Minerva." Severus said so suddenly and confidently that I looked up at the door to see if Professor McGonagall had come in, Madam Pomfrey doing the same. 

"What?" I asked, seeing that she wasn't there. 

"Her name is Minerva. . . how about Trang?" Severus asked hesitantly. "Minerva Trang?" 

"I love it." I whispered, my black cloud that I had been carrying around popping and dissipating as my heart swelled with love. This was the true Severus Snape, the one that I knew and loved. 

Madam Pomfrey was surveying Severus, which I wasn't entirely a fan of. I wanted her to like him of course, but after his name was cleared, not before. I didn't know how much her seeing this side of him would affect the future. Hopefully not by much. 

"Thank you for coming down Madam Pomfrey." Severus said suddenly, looking up at her. "If anyone were to ask why you were up here for so long-" 

"I will say that you were questioning me about the students underground trade to see if I know anything. If someone asks you, I knew nothing." Madam Pomfrey said solidly. 

"Naturally." Severus said and then she left the room, leaving the two of us with Remus and two new, beautiful babies. 

Severus gently sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the little ones. "They are truly miraculous, Elizabeth." 

"They are, aren't they?" I asked softly, staring at them in awe. Elijah Kingsleys' brown little eyes fluttered sleepily. It seemed that he was already tired from such an exciting event as being born. 

"I'm glad I can change the colours of the cribs." Severus smiled a little, flicking his hand at the new cribs in question, changing one of the blue pads to pink instead. 

I tsked at him. "You really thought both of them were going to be boys?" 

"One can hope." Severus smirked, but softened as he took Minerva into his arms. "She is adorable." 

"She's going to be your favorite, I already know it." I whispered softly, kissing his cheek. "You're going to protect her fiercely." 

"Yes I am." Severus whispered, rocking her. She also had brown eyes, which seemed happy, even for a newborn. "No one will hurt her. Not while I'm around. I promise." 

⬅️➡️

[homeinterior012]

The Essential Guide to Curtain Rods: A Key Element in Window Treatments

When it comes to dressing your windows, the choice of curtain rods is just as important as the curtains themselves. Curtain rods not only serve a functional purpose but also contribute significantly to the overall aesthetic of a room. A well-chosen curtain rod can enhance the beauty of your space, complementing your curtains, and elevating the interior design. Whether you’re outfitting a cozy bedroom, a spacious living room, or a formal dining area, the right curtain rod can make all the difference.

What Is a Curtain Rod?

A curtain rod is a horizontal bar or pole used to hang curtains or draperies. It supports the weight of the curtains and is designed to slide or hold the curtains in place using rings, hooks, or grommets. Curtain rods come in various materials, styles, and finishes, offering a wide range of design options to suit any room.

While curtain rods may seem like a simple element of window treatment, they are crucial in ensuring that curtains are hung securely and drape correctly. The right curtain rod not only provides a stable base for your curtains but also adds a decorative touch to your windows.

Types of Curtain Rods Single Curtain Rods

A single curtain rod is the most common type, featuring one pole that supports a set of curtains or drapes. This type of rod is ideal for basic window treatments and is versatile enough to work with various curtain styles. Single rods are typically used for lighter fabrics or simpler drapery setups. Double Curtain Rods

For a more layered look, double curtain rods are an excellent choice. These rods consist of two parallel bars: one for hanging a sheer curtain or light drapery and the other for heavier curtains or drapes. This setup provides the flexibility to use different fabric weights or create a layered, sophisticated look. Traverse Rods

Traverse rods are designed to allow curtains to open and close with ease. Typically used for heavier draperies, these rods come with a pulley or cord system that helps move the curtains along the rod. Traverse rods are ideal for wide windows, sliding doors, or spaces where curtains need to be frequently drawn open and closed. Tension Rods

Tension rods are a convenient, no-drill option for hanging curtains. These rods use spring tension to hold the rod securely in place between two walls. Tension rods are easy to install and are commonly used for temporary or lightweight curtains. They’re perfect for smaller windows, bathrooms, or rental properties where drilling holes isn’t allowed. Decorative Curtain Rods

Decorative curtain rods are designed to add style and elegance to your window treatment. They come in various finishes, including wood, metal, and wrought iron, and often feature intricate end caps or finials that match your room's décor. Decorative rods are perfect for adding a touch of sophistication to living rooms, bedrooms, and dining areas.

Choosing the Right Curtain Rod

Selecting the right curtain rod involves considering both function and style. Here are a few key factors to keep in mind:

Material

Curtain rods are available in several materials, including wood, metal, stainless steel, and wrought iron. Each material has its own aesthetic and functional qualities. Wooden rods, for instance, can offer a more rustic or traditional feel, while metal rods lend a modern or industrial look. Stainless steel rods are sleek and durable, while wrought iron provides a more decorative and vintage style. Size

The size of the curtain rod is essential for both functionality and visual appeal. It should extend beyond the width of the window frame to allow the curtains to fully open without obstruction. When measuring for a curtain rod, add at least 4–6 inches on either side of the window frame to ensure a proper fit. Style and Finish

The style of the curtain rod should complement your room's décor. Choose a simple, sleek design for a minimalist look or opt for ornate, decorative rods for a more luxurious style. The finish, whether brushed nickel, matte black, antique brass, or chrome, should match the color and theme of your room’s furniture and fixtures. Weight Capacity

Different curtain rods are designed to support varying weights. Ensure that the rod you select can hold the weight of your curtains or draperies without sagging or bending. For heavy curtains, it’s best to go for a sturdy metal rod or a double curtain rod system for added support.

Curtain Rod Accessories

In addition to the rod itself, several accessories can enhance the functionality and appearance of your window treatment:

Finials: These decorative end pieces can add a personal touch and make the curtain rod look more elegant. Finials come in various shapes, including spheres, flowers, animals, and geometric patterns.

Brackets: Brackets hold the curtain rod in place and are available in different designs to match the rod. Ensure that the brackets are strong enough to support the rod and curtains.

Rings and Hooks: These accessories allow curtains to hang smoothly and can add a decorative element. Curtain rings come in various styles, including metal, plastic, and wood.

Installation Tips

Proper installation of your curtain rod is crucial to ensure it functions effectively. Here are a few tips: Measure before Installing: Measure the width and height of the window to determine the correct length for your curtain rod.

Secure to Studs: For heavier curtains, it’s best to secure the rod brackets to wall studs for extra support.

Level the Rod: Use a level to ensure the rod is installed straight for a polished, professional look.

Conclusion

Curtain rods Abu Dhabi are an essential component of window treatments, offering both functional and aesthetic value. Whether you're looking for a simple, understated rod or a decorative statement piece, there are countless styles, materials, and sizes to choose from. By selecting the right curtain rod, you can enhance the beauty of your space while ensuring your curtains hang securely and function properly.

[sandip-thapa]

Nestled in the heart of Nepal’s mystical Mustang region, Shinta Mani Mustang is more than a hotel—it’s a gateway to a world where ancient traditions, dramatic landscapes, and visionary design converge. Designed by the legendary hotel architect Bill Bensley and operated in collaboration with Sherpa Hospitality, this all-inclusive retreat offers travelers an unparalleled journey into the soul of the Himalayas. From its awe-inspiring setting to its commitment to cultural preservation, here’s why Shinta Mani Mustang is redefining luxury travel in one of the planet’s most remote and spiritually charged destinations.

The Forbidden Kingdom Unveiled: Mustang’s Mystique A Land Frozen in Time Mustang, often dubbed the “Forbidden Kingdom,” remained closed to outsiders until the 1990s, preserving its Tibetan Buddhist traditions and stark, otherworldly landscapes. Perched on the edge of the Tibetan Plateau, this high-altitude desert is framed by the Annapurna and Dhaulagiri mountain ranges, with the Kali Gandaki River carving through its dramatic gorges 11. The region’s isolation has safeguarded its medieval villages, vibrant monasteries, and nomadic cultures, making it a living museum of Himalayan heritage.

Lower vs. Upper Mustang While Upper Mustang captivates with its arid, Mars-like terrain and the ancient walled city of Lo Manthang, Lower Mustang—home to Shinta Mani Mustang—boasts lush valleys, apple orchards, and snow-capped peaks like the 7,000-meter Nilgiri Mountain, visible from the resort’s floor-to-ceiling windows 116. The area’s unique geography, shaped by its position in the monsoon rain shadow, creates a surreal blend of alpine forests, desert cliffs, and turquoise glacial lakes like Dhumba, revered by Buddhists 11.

Bill Bensley’s Himalayan Masterpiece: Design Meets Tradition A Sanctuary Rooted in Local Culture Bill Bensley, celebrated for his whimsical and sustainable designs, has infused Shinta Mani Mustang with a deep respect for Mustang’s heritage. The resort’s stone-and-wood architecture mirrors traditional Thakali styles, using locally sourced materials such as Baglung stone and timber 9. Inside, yak-hair stools, handwoven Tibetan rugs, and thangka-inspired draperies pay homage to Tibetan Buddhism, while Hermès-felt bedspreads and Himalayan pink salt-lined bathtubs add a touch of modern luxury 69. 

Art as a Window to the Soul The hotel doubles as an art gallery, showcasing works by American painter Robert Powell and Nepali artist Dhwoj Gurung. Each piece reflects Mustang’s landscapes and spiritual essence, from murals of the Kali Gandaki Valley to symbolic cloud motifs reminiscent of thangka scrolls 59. Even the minibar doors, crafted from conch shells, whisper of the region’s sacred symbology 

3. Curated Experiences: Where Adventure Meets Enlightenment Cultural Immersion Shinta Mani Mustang’s five-night all-inclusive program is a tapestry of curated adventures: 

Village Life & Spiritual Journeys: Explore 800-year-old Bon Buddhist villages like Lubra, where pre-Buddhist rituals endure, or witness monks chanting at Syang’s gompa 110. Participate in festivals like Tiji, where masked dances drive away evil spirits, or Yarthung, celebrating Mustang’s equestrian heritage 

11. Pilgrimage to Muktinath: Bathe in the 108 sacred fountains of Mukti Dhara, a Hindu-Buddhist pilgrimage site believed to cleanse sins 

5. Culinary Connections: Share meals with locals, such as Thakkali thali in Marpha, a village famed for its apple brandy and orchards 611. 

 Adventure in the Wild Trekking & Mountain Biking: Traverse trails offering vistas of Nilgiri and Tukuche peaks, or bike through Kagbeni’s terraced fields 110.

Helicopter Expeditions: Soar above Annapurna and Dhaulagiri for a bird’s-eye view of Mustang’s desert cliffs and ancient rock formations 111. 

 Horseback Riding: Ride sturdy Mustang ponies along historic trade routes, retracing the steps of Himalayan nomads 15. 

Wellness for Body and Soul At the SoRig Spa, 11th-generation Amchi (Tibetan doctor) Tsewang Gyurme Gurung tailors therapies using Himalayan herbs and Sowa Rigpa practices. Post-trek, unwind with cupping massages, yoga sessions, or meditation led by Buddhist monks 36. 

Sustainability and Community: Travel with Purpose Empowering Local Communities Half of Shinta Mani’s staff are women from nearby villages, and ingredients like yogurt and apples are sourced from local farms 69. The hotel partners with the Pasang Lhamu Foundation, supporting education for Nepali women and preserving cultural heritage 6.

Eco-Conscious Design The resort employs passive solar heating, insulated walls, and bioswales to minimize its environmental footprint. Even the stone construction blends seamlessly into the mountainside, honoring Mustang’s aesthetic 511. 

A Culinary Odyssey: Flavors of the Himalayas Chef Krishna Subedi elevates local ingredients—think yak meat, wild mushrooms, and timur pepper—into gourmet feasts. Dine on beetroot momos (dumplings) under the stars, enjoy apple crumble picnics by glacial lakes, or sip a Kali Gandaki cocktail (whisky, plum wine, and dark beer) at the Aara Bar 69.

Practical Guide: Planning Your Journey Best Time to Visit March–May: Blooming rhododendrons and clear skies 11. 

September–November: Festivals and crisp autumn vistas 11. Avoid July–August monsoons. Getting There Fly to Kathmandu, then take a scenic (but bumpy) 6-hour jeep ride or charter a helicopter to Jomsom. The journey itself—past prayer flags, waterfalls, and Tibetan chortens—is an adventure 106.

 Why Stay Here? Shinta Mani Mustang isn’t just a hotel; it’s a portal to a vanishing world. With rates starting at $1,800/night (all-inclusive), it’s an investment in transformative travel—where luxury meets legacy, and every moment deepens your connection to the Himalayas 10. 

Conclusion: The Call of the Mountains Shinta Mani Mustang is more than a destination—it’s a pilgrimage for the soul. Whether you’re meditating in a Bon monastery, trekking beneath Nilgiri’s snows, or simply soaking in a salt-lined tub while the Himalayas glow at dusk, this sanctuary invites you to shed the noise of modern life and embrace the timeless rhythm of Mustang. As Bill Bensley’s masterpiece proves, true luxury lies not in excess, but in authenticity—and there’s no place on Earth quite like this. 

Ready to answer the call? Explore Shinta Mani Mustang’s curated journeys and let the Himalayas rewrite your story. Shinta Mani Mustang, Himalayan luxury travel, Bill Bensley design, Nepal cultural tours, Mustang trekking, Tibetan wellness retreats, sustainable hotels Nepal, all-inclusive Himalayan adventures.

[phazonmichelart]

"Abstract Allure" 9/21

Guardian of the In-Between By Phazon Míchel

This monochromatic portrait, titled "Guardian of the In-Between," exudes a serene strength and ethereal elegance, capturing the viewer with its quiet power and timeless beauty. The subject's profile is finely sculpted, her features calm and composed, as if she is steadfastly watching over the delicate boundary between life and the afterlife. Her hair flows behind her like tendrils of mist, seamlessly merging with the soft, shadowy background, evoking a sense of fluidity and transition.

Inspired by the dreamlike quality of "Lovely Bones," this piece reflects the role of a silent sentinel in the in-between, much like the protagonist, Susie Salmon, who observes the living world from her ethereal vantage point. The portrait's minimalist color palette accentuates the subject's serene expression and the graceful drapery of her gown, suggesting a quiet resilience and contemplative presence.

"Guardian of the In-Between" is a tribute to the enigmatic nature of the afterlife, inviting the viewer to explore the serene and contemplative spirit of the subject. Her gaze, fixed on an unseen horizon, embodies a sense of watchfulness and protection, offering comfort to those who traverse the boundaries of existence. This portrait encapsulates the essence of ethereal beauty and quiet strength, much like the haunting and evocative narrative of "Lovely Bones."

[jaybeckstore]

The Irresistible Allure of Brocade Fabric

In the world of textiles, few fabrics exude the timeless elegance and opulence of brocade. Originating from ancient civilizations, brocade fabric has traversed through time, enchanting generations with its intricate patterns, luxurious texture, and unmatched versatility. Join us as we unravel the reasons why brocade fabric remains a perennial favourite among designers, artisans, and discerning fashion enthusiasts alike.

Luxurious Aesthetic Appeal: Such fabric is synonymous with luxury and sophistication. Its sumptuous texture, often embellished with metallic threads, intricate motifs, and raised patterns, adds an air of opulence to any garment or home furnishing. Whether adorning evening gowns, upholstery, or decorative accessories, brocade instantly elevates the aesthetic appeal, exuding an aura of regal splendour and refinement.

Exquisite Craftsmanship: Crafted using time-honoured techniques passed down through generations, such fabric is a testament to exquisite craftsmanship and attention to detail. Artisans meticulously weave intricate designs into the fabric, often incorporating elements of gold or silver thread for a luminous finish. The result is a textile masterpiece that celebrates the artistry and skill of traditional weaving methods.

Versatility in Design: One of the most compelling reasons to use such fabric is its versatility in design. Available in a myriad of patterns, colours, and textures, brocade lends itself to a wide range of creative expressions. Whether you prefer classic floral motifs, geometric patterns, or contemporary abstract designs, there's a brocade fabric to suit every aesthetic preference and design vision.

Timeless Elegance: Unlike trends that come and go, brocade fabric transcends fashion fads, standing the test of time with its timeless elegance. From royal courts to red-carpet events, brocade has adorned the elite for centuries, imbuing every occasion with an air of sophistication and grandeur. Investing in brocade fabric ensures that your creations will remain eternally chic, making it a wise choice for both timeless heirlooms and modern masterpieces.

Textural Depth and Dimension: What sets this fabric apart is its rich textural depth and dimension. The interplay of light and shadow on the raised motifs creates a captivating visual effect, adding depth and intrigue to the fabric's surface. Whether used for drapery, upholstery, or apparel, such fabric adds a tactile element that invites touch and admiration, enticing the senses with its luxurious feel.

Prestigious Heritage: Such fabric carries with it a prestigious heritage steeped in history and tradition. From the courts of ancient civilizations to the ateliers of haute couture, brocade has long been associated with nobility, wealth, and prestige. By incorporating brocade into your designs, you not only pay homage to centuries of textile craftsmanship but also infuse your creations with a sense of heritage and legacy.

In a world where trends come and go, brocade fabric from Jaybecks Fabric Store stands as a timeless symbol of elegance, luxury, and craftsmanship. With its luxurious aesthetic appeal, exquisite craftsmanship, versatility in design, timeless elegance, textural depth, and prestigious heritage, brocade continues to captivate and inspire, making it a coveted choice for discerning designers and connoisseurs of fine textiles. Call them at 0908 146 6711 to place your order.

[dreamingofbabylon]

every day I drag myself to the workplace and I root around to find another pumpkin full of meat rolling around my enclosure, in the form of strange industrial sewing artifacts. the other day at work I discovered this bizarre contraption

Kirsch is a company that still works with drapery and hardware today, but apparently the name has been around since the 1900s. I've been struggling to find much info about their other vintage tools and hardware. Their website is all sleek and modern like 'ohh look how classy you could be with our patented automatic traversal rods' etc.

well you can't hide this from me. I feel like a fucking archeologist. Like this is an animal to me. in the way that a radio tower is an animal do you know what I'm fucking talking about.

There really are some specific ass machines in this world. This is a tool to measure and mark pleats for drapery. If you've ever sewn something with pleats, you know it can be really finicky even if you got your math right.

This thing is insane. You lay out the drapery panel and hold it under the clamps. In between, there are a bunch of moving carriages, with numbered marks that correspond to a code chart. They're connected by a spring, so they automatically shift to be evenly distributed. It is SO cool to see it work. The carriages can lock in place to account for different numbers of pleats, or even to reposition for hiding seams.

This is starting to sound like an advertisement, but good luck tracking one down even if you want one. We haven't been able to find any mention of this online, except that the manual is in the library of congress.

It's just such a fascinating tool- I've never seen something quite like it. The handwritten note on the cover, dated 1996, seems to indicate that Kirsch stopped servicing it some time in the 20 years since it's production. My best guess is that by then they were shifting their focus more to consumers and installers than manufacturers who essentially would be competing with them. But I don't claim to be all that knowledgeable about the industry's history.

I have to wonder how many of these still exist, let alone see any use.

[bratkin]

Rember When?

Remembering When I Was  a Decorator

This time of the year was always special when I was a decorator. This is the time when companies showed us their new stuff for the new year coming up because at the beginning of the year, after everyone took down the lovely Christmas decorations, their house seemed to look blah to them. This made them want to redecorate and all of us decorators got busy at the first of the year

There would be social events thrown by companies who produced the things we decorators used. Such as, drapery fabric. window blinds. Paint and other things used for redecorating.

After all of the presentations by businesses, we then usually had a good meal provided by some or one or more of the businesses, followed by a social hour.

I remember the social hour was spent telling things like special customers who asked for special things which we had never heard of but which we could generally interpret but not always with a straight face. One decorator I remember had a customer who wanted her to reupolster her favorite "sexual sofa." I’ll just bet that was an interesting piece of furniture, although we decided it meant sectional.

I had customers who wanted traveling rods although I can’t imagine what I would do if any drapery rod began traveling instead of traversing. We got her rods installed and her draperies traveled from one side to the other on the traversing rod. Everyone was happy but when we decorators were talking about this, we wondered if there were special motels for the traveling rods to stay in when they were away from home.

I had more than one customer who wanted me to put Cornishes over there draperies. Wouldn’t they be surprised if they wound up with game hens perched over their draperies when the job was complete? Lucky for them, and for me, I interpret Cornishes to mean Cornice boards. One decorator confided to us that she had a customer who wanted tales hanging from her draperies. This turned out to be a fringe. Then there was the decorator who told about a customer who thought she just had to have an Australian shade. She wounded an Austrian shade of course and got it.

If I remember correctly, it was at this meeting that the announcement was made that I was second place decorator in our region which was the southeast portion of the United States. That pretty much puffed me up until I got home and my husband said, “ How much money does that bring you?” I had to confess it was just a hollow honor put on me to make me work harder. It did not include more money.

Yes, I remember when.

‘Bye now!

[0602huan]

Beyond Boundaries: Innovating with Woven Wire Drapery in Modern Design

Woven wire drapery is a thread that weaves the past with the future, embracing tradition while pushing the boundaries of innovation. Its applications resonate far beyond aesthetics, influencing the very essence of how we interact with architecture. As we traverse the innovative possibilities of woven wire drapery, we realize that it's not just a material.