yotzuya

[yotzuya]

“I cold. I less. / I death & death again.”

— Topaz Winters, from “Self-Diagnosis,” Portrait of My Body as a Crime I’m Still Committing

[yotzuya]

i am leaving you in charge of literally everything good luck and don't screw it up bye

   hmm kay. – – f*ck u too, I guess.

[yotzuya]

I, in disgust with the living,

Edna St. Vincent Millay, from The Collected Poems; “I, In Disgust with the Living,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[yotzuya]

睡蓮 - 白露

[yotzuya]

👀

[yotzuya]

    < ☾ > WATCH & WANDER; take a look at those faces, soiled, tainted by raw fear. You could see it in every corner, their fright deeply anchored in their pathetic, crushed frames; crawling beneath their skins, worming their way through blood ere seeping into their bones becoming a part of their pathetic ENTITY. -- you remember this sentiment, do you not? Paralyzed by FRIGHT, by the crippling threat of the unknown, unsure of what might happen next. A single wrench of the hand? A blunt object smashed against oh so delicate body? A fist rammed into one’s stomach / shoulder / face? Ah, remembrance was akin to a knife stuck in rotten heart & the fulfilling idea of taking REVENGE this wound’s only cure. The corners of her mouth would quirk: to form this ungodly SMIRK whilst her looming presence cast her shadow across latest victims akin to the cruelest moon. -- they had dared to flee, now it was time to pay.

          ❝ Lead our visitors down to the cellars. ❝ Soldiers moved instantly whilst one remained, a single hand wrapped around own waist, the other holding her pipe. She took a single inhale, piercing eyes wandering ‘til they found a worn lump of ‘refugees’ grouped to the right. Exhaled smoke spiraled up, making such a DRAMATIC PAUSE thus letting painful seconds pass & tick, tick, tick down. ❝ -- all but them. ❝   

             Fine brows wagered to lower, a step taken as if to ENCLOSE the distance hence allowing VICEROY to take a closer look at captured VERMIN; at the blood, the cracked mien, the bullet wounds / BRUISES beneath dirty rags! O, & they would suffer more; every last one of them would learn to RUE the day of their wretched / GOD DAMN birth! Beware, hers was a fickle disposition; rage loomed, fueled by everlasting hatred burning akin to a thousand fires in her chest. -- single feet brutally connected with a captive’s skull prompting a loud crack, sending him plummeting down only to permit said heel to come to rest on / DIG INTO his slumped form (an obstacle); to further INSPECT the marred features of their seemingly FINEST prisoner: Yukiko of the Katakura.  -- such a DELICIOUS treat.

           ❝ Oh, but we have a honored guest midst this miserable lot! One too noble to be treated as lowly as this worthless scum. -- bring her fourth. ❝  sickly sweet / menacing, her voice would carry on. && whilst the VICEROY returned to prior resting place, armed men roughly dragged the NOBLE LADY in front of the remaining, not yet dispatched rest. Cue a dark chuckle: they would stay & watch. ❝  I think now is the perfect time for a little guessing game! ❝   ➤ @landwaker / sc.

[yotzuya]

Vainly I sought nourishment in shadows and errors.

Jorge Luis Borges, from A Personal Anthology; “Baltasar Gracián,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[yotzuya]

' Hatred consumed you and you let it. Was the price worth it? ' -Hien

   < ☾ > ALL THIS HATRED; LET HER DROWN IN IT, let her burn, let her suffocate! Hatred aye, it had long ago found a place in a heart so hollow, had long ago began to nestle there & grow. To let roots wrap around the cracks & fissures, deeply anchored into this BROKEN HUSK; to hate meant to feel, to rage meant to succumb to the sensation of PASSION warped & twisted into a certain extreme. – what was this red red red RAGE if not one’s only relief? You dare to come & judge her, o VALIANT LORD OF VERMIN & PESTILENCE? You … whose tragedy has yet to be written. Self-righteous because he knew naught; of struggle, of hardship, of violence & victimhood. Of pain, of blood, of broken bones mangled & skin cracked open. Of agony, o agony, this sentiment of a raw throat; rasped by SCREAMS & CRIES FOR HELP. 

       High & mighty, this self-proclaimed LORD of Doma. Standing tall & proud with a sword clutched in a bloodied hand. Being oh so vigorous & strong, granting the WITCH one last chance to redeem herself. – THINK ABOUT YOUR SINS, WHORE; confess. Just mumble those words, play you part. Fall down on your knees, let palms grace the floor. BEG BEG BEG like you did so oft in your wretched past. Throw yourself in the dirt beneath your heels, grovel, wallow in the SHIT from which you came; & know this … you cannot escape the tethers of a bitter fore-time, you cannot erase your rank & standings by pretending to be more than a mere prostitute. && again … again they had come to TEACH & CRIPPLE. 

         to kill.

          ❝ Oh, what a lovely hero you are. ❝ cue a bitter laugh, a dark-toned chuckle. Sweet embrace of death: your only truthful lover. The only thing ever yearned for; to die in reckless abandon. To end a violent life with such a brutal end; to be cut down, shot show, TORN ASUNDER. How beautiful it seemed, to imagine how that sword of his would cleave through collarbone & sinew, through skin & flesh & bones. To die … to bring this piteous existence to an end. Aye, to die … & tear this DOMAN SCUM down into the depths of hell alongside her.– she broods for a while, desperation burning as bright as her rancor in a quickly heaving chest; time was ticking, soon ... soon the collapsing castle would BURY them all. Prolong their stay just a little longer. -- be reminiscent of the / YOUR price …  just how high had it been, pray tell? HOW MANY COINS DO YOU WANT TO PAY FOR HER?? RENOWNED COURTESAN; this beauty, mysterious & cold! JUST HOW MUCH, LORD HIEN? Fret not, I shall measure this prize for you! 

         ❝ Granting the oh so smitten villain a moment to justify, searching for those detestable traits that will fit your petty little morals and sense of justice. To confront me with my sins before striking me down. Is that not what your honorable codex demands you to do, L o r d  Hien? ❝ 

        Watch her! Such a disgusted expression, lips curled into a scornful smile whilst mocking voice drew his title with every bit of spite / HATE HATE HATE that was left in a broken body. The prize, the prize. Pray tell, how many Doman generals & lords have laid hands on her body? How many have ravished, have taken what they wanted without consent? How many secrets have thus been sold? How many men have been killed by these very hands? Never had her thirst been quenched, never had their miserable demises managed to FILL THE VOID. The prize … he says, as if those men had had any worth. Oftentimes / ALWAYS drunk, brimming to the rim with alcohol. Some violent leaving bruises as dark as night on palest skin, leaving marks that BLED, others cussing, boasting, YELLING. Detestable PIGS meant to die a lowly creature’s death. 

         ❝ -- yes. And I would kill and destroy and TORTURE your people again and again and again. Forever, ‘til my last condemned breath! ❝ -- oh, oh indeed it has ALL been worth it. 

[yotzuya]

I adore this pale moon, I adore this death mask.

Delmira Agustini, from The White Book (1907); “In The Light of the Moon,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[yotzuya]

Please imagine him and Tsuyu playing cat's cradle but him not being able to fit his giant sausage fingers in the web.

     <☽ > ‘TWAS SUCH A SIMPLE THING & yet it meant the world, to her at least. Activities such as games seemed to distract from the grim scenery all around; men with dead eyes & saddened hearts, women with features oh so lined. Sometimes one had to wonder … what had happened to turn a cheerful folk into such a broken crowd? Flinching / FEARING even the most tranquil of winds... Mayhap others knew answers but either way, were they not lost on her? Ah, ‘twas such a depressing thought there to do naught but add up to the sensation of emptiness looming within. 

            ❝ no! You are doing it wrong. ❝ – hers was a genuine chuckle; lithe fingers plucking at the ribbon to reestablish striking ‘cradle’ with a single fluid motion. Whenever she started, he failed to take the cord, ripping the delicate constellation apart with rather clumsy attempts to pinch the ribbon. Whenever he started … alas, his fingers were too thick to even spin the correct form. Aye, one was supposed to DELICATELY tread instead of trying to stab the tiny spots between spread fingers. Own voice lowered a bit, lips curling into a mellow smile.    ❝you have to be more careful. ❝

          Cue a huff on his end, hands & arms falling in slight resignation.           “By the Kami, ‘tis is impossible, Tsuyu!” 

       ❝ well then. ❝ it was perhaps a tad bit too endearing to watch. An all-mighty samurai struggling with a simple child’s game, his lack of physical sensitivity perhaps ruining more than one might have guessed. Thus, she swiftly dropped the cord, tying the ends together whilst allowing own chin to dip thus breaking eye contact.  ❝ – don’t worry. We will find some other game. I know plenty! ❝  

         Aye, ‘twas a hasty attempt to quench his frustration; she could almost feel his disappointment; rather the blame he again vehemently put on himself. Brows lowered for a moment, samurai’s saddened hum in acknowledgement stinging in own chest. How could someone oh so stubbornly see failure in every little misstep? Berating oneself out of impulse, out of the eager will to strive for perfection. – why would he? Fingers stopped working the knots, dimmed glare starring at idle hands. What was it that plagued him so? This kindhearted man, who had not left her side for a mere second; pity / DESPAIR overcame her, a feeling of sorrow rising & nestling in her throat, building a lump. 

       Lids fluttered close. – what if … what if both had history? A past, entwined by whatever these hands had done? There must have been a turbulent fore-time, there must have been some kind of struggle evident in the way this body’s skin seemed so maltreated & worn. Oh so soft to the touch but littered with marks & dents & memories that lingered beneath the surface, fading in & out making it sheerly impossible to grasp them. – 

      “Tsuyu?”

        Chin jolted up, piercing hues wandering to meet his. Again, observe how worry spreads & festers, how it taints these weathered features, ruining the benevolence found within. – teeth grind, head canting down.  

          ❝ I am sorry, Gosetsu I … – ❝ lost myself again. 

        Cue a laugh; loud chuckle followed by gruff arms carefully wrapping around own fragile figurine. It took her by surprise if only for a second; ‘til unbearable tension in limbs & muscles abated, ‘til transient nausea dwindled. “Don’t be sorry, child. You suddenly fell silent! I thought MY FAILURE was the sole reason for this. Let us play something else then, aye?”

        Akin to daughter & father; mayhap that was it? This strange sentiment dwelling within one’s chest, memories blurred out by lacking remembrance. – aye, what of THIS CONNECTION was what had once tied their pasts together? Mayhap … they were family. Tsuyu gave a quick nod, mind however blank. – one remained silent, forehead resting against his broad chest.

         Family… somehow, deep down she dared to doubt it.

[yotzuya]

Sóley.

[yotzuya]

[yotzuya]

         Tsukuyomi’s two colored skin symbolizes the traditional feminine white & the black, rather masculine half. White stands for its Yotsuyu (Tsuyu), while the black half stands for the actual God of the Moon, Tsukuyomi. After Yotsuyu’s summoning, these two souls give the primal “its beating heart”. Their evident conflict is often displayed by the Goddess’ face. -- when Tsukuyomi (the God) speaks / is in control he uses the black half, whereas Yotsuyu uses the white one. What starts off as chaotic & vicious at first, turns into a harmonious co-existence over time. At the beginning however it is but a constant struggle. 

       To conclude: the primal Tsukuyomi possesses two, split souls in the same body, representing different personality traits & different “phases of the moon”. Both, however, are beings of sadness, despair, rage & even hatred, through the latter is a trait which only the God Tsukuyomi embodies. Yotsuyu does no longer succumb to rancor as such.

[yotzuya]

Resilient soul, I salute you!

    < ☾ > RESILIENT SOUL, TORN ASUNDER BY MEMORY, what was hers? What was theirs? Mind split, personality as fickle as two halves of a dying moon; black & white, harsh & benevolent. – mood swings were what drove her, with a smile worn on WHITE features, a scowl on the black. Whispers of days laying in the past ever evident, fusing with the endless despair of the MOON GOD himself. && this entity triggered idle recollections, SUSANO Lord of Revel / STORM / SEA. Their connection was eminent;  recollections of a life spent decades ago ever present. 

          what were they now? 

         TSUKUYOMI, now Lady of the Moon. && SUSANO, Lord of the Kojin. – too much had changed, drawn essence recent mien & form. Would he even recognize former brother’s altered figurine? The appearance that this… tormented vessel, torn apart by evoked divinity, had chosen? && former GOD thrived on her spite, her pain, her agony. – Goddess of Sorrow, of the Underworld, forever cast into the depths of the darkest night. Exiled by their dearest sister, entity only RESURRECTED through mortal’s hand (o, poor plagued soul once named ‘YOTSUYU’; even in death, I feel your sorrow), reborn but split in two.

          Eyes remained shut, white half mellow, the other vicious. -- when she spoke, with a tone so menacing / so CHAOTIC in its own, it seemed as if only the dark side of the moon was apparent; brighter half but silent & ever brooding. ❝ even after centuries you are still as unbearable as yesteryear, dear brother. ❝    

[yotzuya]

I am a witch, an enchantress of sorts and have already been worshipped and hung and in the same order.

Anne Sexton, from a letter to Paul Brooks written c. June 1968 (via violentwavesofemotion)

[yotzuya]

oh, cruel darkness, embrace me    want you to embrace me        it’s a fucked up world, and it’s driving my poor heart crazy