dhufearchived
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𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴𝙽'𝚃 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈 𝙽𝙾𝚆? 𝙸𝚃 𝙷𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚂 𝙴𝙸𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙰𝚈
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
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THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE. i'm slowly creating a new one, but in the meantime you can find me @ treppenwitzz.
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IF THERE IS A LIGHT THEN I AM GOING TO SWALLOW IT. IF THERE IS A GOD THEN I’M GOING TO MAKE HIM CRY. — ISHTAR ATTA ISIL, dreamt by eve.
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THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE. i'm slowly creating a new one, but in the meantime you can find me @ treppenwitzz.
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ishtar is now at @dhufeainnewedd !!
THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE. i'm slowly creating a new one, but in the meantime you can find me @ treppenwitzz.
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THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE. i'm slowly creating a new one, but in the meantime you can find me @ treppenwitzz.
#IMPORTANT .#like i said the blog didnt really Spark joy & i hate that bc ishtar is the love of my life#SO im revamping full new aes new verses new carrd#new dash as well#and we'll see if it does the trick
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« yeah. » eyebrow raised in condescending amusement, a bit of judgement in the sweet line of her lips as she gestures them forward. « that's the whole point, partner. good ideas ain't makin' history. » considering history's proceedings, this is perhaps not the most ideal image.
“ i’m not sure if this is a good idea . in fact , i’m rather certain this is a terrible idea . ” 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚢 , 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙱𝙻𝙴 𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙰 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙻𝙴𝚃’𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙳𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 .
@dhufeainnewedd / one - liner sc
#archivars#MODERN yeehaw .#ishtar : pffff yeet good ideas i only want the bad ones#ishtar two seconds later : river... i mayhaps need a lil bit of Help
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mister walker ! * girl looks ecstatic, putting her magazine down to observe rosie's dilf approach. * is tha' food ? i could eat a whole damn cow. * eyes leave the adult to throw a quick look at the clock. but the moment doesn't last long enough to be suspicious. instead, she reorients her bright smile toward her caretaker of the day. * thanks again for feedin' me. i kinda burned down my kitchen the last time i tried doin' that myself.
@romanzato .
#romanzato#gif /#YEESHTAR .#MODERN yeehaw .#ig rosie was supposed to b here and is. somewhere else? being cursed w jj & forgot to tell ishtar or smth ?#or ishtr just came in like hi hello i need food thinking rosie would b there but she isnt
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kosmogramm·:
as usual, none of ishtar’s yeehaw words make any sense. 😔 it takes sienna a moment to determine that the bull 🐂 is ishtar and sienna is the rider 🤠. well, maybe. she’s not actually sure who’d do the riding and who’d, er, be ridden, but she has a pretty clear idea of who’s who. not that it matters if it’s never going to happen. 😔
sienna pops another 🍟 into her mouth and glumly looks up @ ishtar’s 😏 face.
❛ if there are a million reasons to stay, then why don’t you? ❜ 🥺 ❛ if i’m special, then what kind of special am i? not the right kind? not special enough? ❜ it’s always you’re special, sienna 😶😬🥴, but never you’re special, sienna 😍🥵😘. ❛ i’ll tell you what kind of special you are to me. you’re ishtar, singer of solar winds and prettier than the brightest stars. ishtar, 🤠 queen of fleeting and fleeing. ❜
😔 is it possible to be lonely for someone eating 🍟 with you? 🥺
❛ i-i close my eyes and you’re still there, and when i open them, you’re gone again. a good rodeoing could bring us together forever… ❜ 🥺👉👈💙
« there's a milion reasons to do a lot of things. 😶 us not doin' 'em's called free will. 😒 » it is not irritation per se tightening the line of her brows 🙁, but she fears that today's words might sound harsh (once again 🙄🙄). she can only pretend to play sienna's game for so long : she does not ⛔ want to stay ⛔, and the fact that the girl has so much trouble understanding it is baffling. 🤡 😤 « is there a scale of special, sienna ? » 🙄🙄 an eyeroll, fry in her mouth. silence as she chews. « yer special to me. 😏 but there's no ✨ special ✨ special enough that will keep me here. » and as she listens to what kind of special, exactly, sienna believes ishtar is, she cannot help but getting more irritated 😒 : it's an acute description, if only it wasn't so damn 💕 romantic 💕. prettier & brightest singer, fleeing queen. 💫 the meliorative tone makes her want to bolt. 🤢 « there's no forever. all we got are moments ⌛, and i ain't gonna spend them all here. 🙅♀️ or anywhere, for tha' matter. a rodeo's enterainement 🤠 'cause it ain't lastin' more than whatever the rader can take. ⏰ otherwase, it'd be borin' as hell. 🥱 »
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pistollips·:
❝ ishy !! ❞ whether she’ll welcome or detest the nickname you come up with on the fly is farthest on your list of concerns. will you let her in on your shenanigans, or will you hide all evidence? well .. if anyone were going to understand, it would be ishtar, wouldn’t it? ❝ hold on. watch. ❞ rather than reveal how you do this, you wrap an arm loosely around the girl and point. your finger lands on the star quarterback in all his glory, specifically in the middle of those abs he’s showing off. it starts off as a little itch, but then he’s wincing, a blistering burn appearing in a dot, like an invisible laser pointer were aimed at him. when you drop your finger, he stops squirming; examines the sky, then looks around, so you quickly duck your head, and hope ish will do the same. the guy pissed you off. didn’t have to do anything in specific, either.. he’s just a douchebag. you try not to overdo it with pranks like these, but today you’re feeling rather reckless.
nicknames are common practice : slip from mouths like a rebranding, for the name she offers is too sharp on the tongue. she is used to it, and barely reacts. instead, she approaches to get a better look on who is today's victim. a single touch & a pointed hand to direct her stare, blue eyes landing on the quarterback. an asshole that she is pretty sure she made-out with at cassie's last party. memories are blurry, in a way all good nights are : too many kisses, too many adventures, and not enough sleep. but the boy doesn't look so good anymore, writhing like something's burning him. then it all stops, and the cheerleader ducks ; as if expecting it, ishtar follows suit. an amused grin, just a touch too toothy to be perfectly polite. « neat trick, doll, ya gotta show me how ya do that. » understanding of the situation totally escapes her, but ishtar is nothing if not great at improvisation : situations usually explain themselves, if you let them. « what did he do to ya ? is it 'cause of the rumor ?? »
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thievae:
SHE DOES NOT RELENT TO HIM : your childhood has fled from you, outstretched arms chasing away stray pigeons and the leftover charm that had pronounced you worthy of a crown, and you cannot hold it close anymore ( the desire remains — your aching heart has imagined a softer reunion than this a thousand times over ). he is torn apart by his own inadequacy ; his hands cannot smooth away all the pain that has befall her, these years of horror that weighed against their shoulders — HE WAS A LEADING MAN IN A PLAY THAT IS ONLY HALF - REMEMBERED. he looks at the page and spots his name hidden away in places it shouldn’t be, the blur of simon still haunting him [ you left and now my father is dead : my father is dead because you left ]. he wishes there was a kinder ending to their story, that the pages had not already been written for them — if the world was kinder to people like them, she would have found him before all of this ( A FATHER HELD IN FRONT OF THE COURTS, A DASHING HERO BREAKING DOWN THE DOORS TO RECLAIM HIS CROWN AND PROVE THE MAN’S INNOCENCE ). but their story was one of lost horrors, childhood a faint memory dandelion - dusted between open mouths / love has always been a kind of killing — and he had killed simon in the hopes she would remember a hero rather than a scared princeling [ how had that turned out for you? ]. her body is tense below her hands. she is no honey - smoothed maiden waiting to pool into his arms, desperate to be saved by him : THEY ARE THE FAINTEST ECHOS OF THEIR CHILDHOOD SELVES.
THEY HAD HUGGED A FEW TIMES IN THEIR CHILDHOOD : alastor had always been strange about touch [ his father had spent a lifetime explaining to him how inapproriate it was to handle another ]. it had been palm against palm with strangers, a formal bow, the correct posturing during a dance that led to absolutely nothing. his parents had been loving enough, but the house grew blue - tinted with a certain coldness ( no fond maternal instinct brimming with laughter as she pulled alastor towards him ; the most he had was her hand smoothing across his forehead when illness struck ). ENTER ISHTAR. uneducated in fae nobility, the two had huddled close, a childhood spent with their foreheads swaying towards the other’s and their hands entangled. perhaps it would have been a kindness to explain to her that it hadn’t really fit with their culture ; they had spent their free time tiptoeing across norms and calling it tender - youthed friendship. but the fear would have struck if he brought it up [ and what if she no longer holds my hand? ]. a hug in greeting, in passing, as a goodbye — he had trapped her close to him as if she were the one prone to leaving.
AND NOW SHE ASKS TO BE LET GO. it is faint enough against his shoulder that he can waste a few minutes in pretending he hadn’t heard it ( perhaps she had said something else — but, oh, her voice had been dastardly cold with the hum of it ). ‘ may we not spend even one more moment like this? ‘ there is a soft croak leaving his mouth, a wet noise that trembles in his chest [ but he cannot handle the expectation of rejection ]. he pulls away from her before she can push him from her, an act of savagery that he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to endure. he keeps close, looming, his hands upon her arms. she is still warm to the touch — AND DID HE IMAGINE HER HEAD BURIED AGAINST HIS SHOULDER? there had been nothing else from her, tense girl submitting herself without truly wanting it ( perhaps a fight would be kinder! ).
HE RELEASES HER : a final parting of old friends — what remains between them now is all future tense, the past a distant daydream grown bitter upon their tongues [ you will never be that boy again ; you will never hold that girl again ]. cold flame touches against his skin, a chill upon him at every place that her breath has ever touched — PHANTOM ACHES OF WHEN THEY TOUCHED EACH OTHER FREELY. ‘ none of this is forgivable, ishtar [ … ] do you really believe i would side with my sister over you? that you’ve meant so little to me, all these years, that i wouldn’t take your side? BUT SHE IS MY SISTER : if there is to be no redemption, i can search for an explanation. ‘ it matters only in image, in name. they have drawn up a mock court between them, the fae and the human, bonded deeply in childhood and torn apart as adulthood dawned upon them ( he needed to hear it all, to have it out ; his sister, renamed the queen, renamed a murderer ). she had been born with a silver crown on her head, the princess of ancient warriors and a nation cleared of bloodshed, and she had dyed herself red. WHAT WOULD HAVE BECOME OF ALASTOR IF HE HAD TAKEN TO THE THRONE? blackness as a family trait : inheritor of violence, scarred by his family legacy? what had been birthed in malya that he couldn’t believe lived inside him, too? ‘ do i offend you, human? you seem upset at my very presence — and yet you stay for me. ‘
humans sometimes spend so much time craving the existence of an almanac of fate that they forget ; not everything is meant to make sense. sometimes things hurt because they can, because they must __ a wounded animal will bite any arm meeting its jaw & it matters very little that attached to it you can find the feeding hand. in the same fashion, the hand only feeds until it needs to strike __ it then becomes lightning, faster than any god's ire. oh, to see lightning & yet refuse to consider that life is fleeting. a pulse flies & then stops. you can link its cessation back to a disease, or a defective cell. it does not matter ; in the grand scheme of things, this is nothing. a hand on her back & her head against his shoulder. her words, cold enough to break the magnetic field attracting her closer. this is human & weakness ; both characteristics that she thought behind her. she does not know which side of the rope to pull on ; rage or desire. the urge to engulf his frame in an embrace / the craving of his lineage's blood on her hands. a life for a life. it hurts because it can, because it must : she brought it on herself.
he ruined her life by getting his back. how unfair is that ? (how justified)
as a child, ishtar was an excellent hugger ; touch is human language, more so when so few people are willing to approach you. within her village, she was avoided & feared. upon entering the fae realm, she discovered a whole new set of rules. but none made quiet as much sense as they should have __ & so many she ignored, simply because she could. touch, a prayer with four hands. needless to say she had known that royalty did not act this way ; ishtar had never been anything but an excellent observer. that is, after all, part of the curse. (the eery prophet is fate's eyes ; what the weaver scribbles, the thief witnesses) therefore, ishtar had known how unproper it was, her lips on simon's cheek as a goodbye. her hand on his arm in passing. it was not she was ignorant, it was that she made a choice : in her world, touch was love & she loved him dearly.
oh, tender, stupid youth ... she should have known better. but what matters is that she is now aware : he is a creature as fleeting as life, despite her being the lightning ; a deadly apparition of light, striking him with a few words. let go. for a moment, she wishes he would not. she wishes she had yet to utter the words. she wishes time would bend into a circle, simply so that it would all happen again : her forehead against his shoulder, fingers itching to hold. but she knows better than to succumb to childish desires. « i do not believe anything, alastor. i simply do not know you ___ what you would do is a mystery to me. » you made sure of that, she keeps between her teeth, a strange pout of both annoyance & suffering. « she simply made a coward's choice, same as you. » and that is all the explanation she will offer on the subject ; he does not need to know the politics of a kingdom he has abandoned. how ironic, really, that the human girl has almot as long in the fae realm as the princeling.
« oh, yes, you do. you absolutely do. » her answer comes as quickly as lightning, and the grin accompanying it is just as deadly. human, he says, and she shows teeth ; certainly not as sharp as some of the creatures in his realm, but just as deadly when wielded rightly. there are quite a few things that the young child she was would have never imagined possible ___ killing someone was one of those things. but ishtar has had her baptism of blood ; and if fate refuses to see her back, she will gladly collect the names of those who have wronged her. faes, humans, under the prophet's powers ; they all perish. that is the common point between them all, the one thing making it obvious that they are close cousins = when pushed too far, they die. although, to be fair, let's give back to faes what belongs to them. immortality, once expired & stolen, tastes oh so sweet on the tongue. ishtar would know, she fought her way out of that goddamn kingdom, despite malya's insistance on sending assassins on her trail.
« what do you know of my motives ? » mistress ire looks divine when she is the color of moonlight ; her blue eyes, a bottomless sea of clear water, seem to unnaturally brighten with each word. « who is to say why i am staying ? » she pauses, levelling a look that can only last so long. there are few things she gives her unwavering & undivided attention to __ but he seems to be one of them. as if to shake herself out of it, the woman turns, walking back to his make-shift camp, her mare's reins in hand. « if you see the light of tomorrow's day, then we will perhaps be able to say i stayed for you. »
#thievae#long post /#PROPHECY the black sun .#fair warning : alastor's gonna wake up blind the next day <3 a lil 24h curse so he Knows she didnt stay for him#also alastor : do i offend you -#ishtar : say no more. YES
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🤠
#so for some reasons ishtar's blog doesn't spark joy rn so#i think i'm gonna edit her carrd#add some spicy new verses i had in mind#(like grishaverse / the boys)#and follow some new people#and ill see if it Helps
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kosmogramm·:
the first thing sienna notices is that ishtar says her name. that sends a flurry of emotions through sienna, each one a butterfly with razor wings, tearing her apart inside with excitement she should not feel. it hurts, more than she can bare to understand, but it’s the type of excitement she hasn’t felt in years. with ishtar, it was a lot of stress, yes—a lot of wondering, a lot of waiting, a lot of watching for ishtar to leave again. it was also Life. maybe not a life worth living, but at least a proper one. she remembers waking on those days she was blessed enough to have ishtar stay with her. rolling over on a flimsy dorm mattress and seeing ishtar in the opposite bed, sun in her hair… 💛. a student of solar studies—beyond fitting, beyond appropriate for ishtar, the brightest star of them all. a mystery, captivating, glowing, sienna’s fixation and adoration. ishtar, the sun, and sienna, every planet that surrounded her, kept in orbit by the laws of ishtar’s attraction.
and yet, ishtar never said her name. did she? sienna closes her eyes for a moment. she wants to remember, but her own name feels foreign to herself when she thinks of it in association with ishtar. it was always sienna and ishtar in sienna’s mind, but she’d wager it was ishtar, free in ishtar’s mind. if you don’t have a name, you’re not a person. so long as they speak your name, you will never die, but sienna’s name was never spoken. it’s why she’s alight with emotion now, disarmed, once more, by ishtar.
she opens her eyes again, and ishtar is still there. not a day has gone by that sienna has not thought of her name. her mind speaks it daily, so that ishtar will never die, and she has clearly only gotten livelier with time. the newfound interest, the warmth, the sparkle in ishtar’s eyes fueled by genuine presence rather by knowledge that a door is always waiting ( so long as she had nothing to lose, she was free ) has made all the difference. sometimes sienna trembles, thinking of all they could be—could have been.
❛ if you don’t make people angry, you’re not doing the right thing. ❜ sienna still feels cornered, but she won’t melt into the wall. she won’t approach ishtar either, because that is uncharted territory. instead, all she will do is cling to her cane and to her clenched fist from the arthur meme because it is all she can do.
ishtar is smiling at her, and it is full of warmth. sienna does not smile back, because sienna does not smile. being sienna means smiling through your words and actions instead of your face. being sienna also means falling apart at ishtar’s smile, because your younger self would have paid anything for that expression of interest.
still, ishtar is here now, and she is present, and she’s still ishtar. she wrote that article that made people angry. good for her. sienna is prouder than she can say. she wishes she could say something equally impressive about herself, but the truth is that all sienna’s done is make all the wrong people angry. not, not even angry—the few that know what she did regard her with pity rather than anger, and sienna can’t stand it. that’s why she’s thought about ishtar so much lately. ishtar never looked at her with pity. she barely looked at her at all, but that was better than pity.
❛ you haven’t heard about me because there are special interests in keeping me anonymous. ❜ every word is shaky, because ishtar is doing so well, and sienna wishes she were good enough to match that. she wishes ishtar would look at her and see someone equally successful instead of—whatever sienna is now. god, she misses her younger self—struggling, but with a heart full of passion and hope and genuine belief in humanity and love / ishtar. sienna still believes in love / ishtar, because ishtar is evidence that sometimes things do work out, but everything else in sienna’s life is broken.
❛ it’s good to see you too, ishtar. ❜ sienna means it. she means it so much it hurts. and there are a million more things she wants to say. ( but ) an awkward glance around reminds her that it’s not just the two of them, though that’s how it is in her mind. ❛ er… it’s a bit crowded in here, do you agree? ❜
the inferno virus could have solved that, but never mind.
« dunno how good i'm at doin' the right thin', but gettin' 'em angry is easy. » getting them angry was, at first, an outlet she absolutely needed : ishtar was used to leave people hungry for more. she was used to create an interest & then disappear. she was used to people wonder about her, all distrustful of her existence. it was a game she loved, a game she was good at. so when she left her car & moved in with caranthir, she had to change the rules. the game could no longer be played the same way, she realized, because hunger - on the long term - often turns to anger. so she cultivated that, turned it into another mindgame, made sure she would win every time. and she did. that is the most troubling thing about ishtar : no matter what she tries, the sheer chaos of her calculations usually get her the right answer. in class, phantom among the living, a wild collective memory, only there an hour & then gone the next. at work, an annoyance you couldn't possibly keep quiet. the thesis had been a game, like the rest of it, but it had been a risky one : another step into the grown-up world, for a book was a bit of remembrance, something that time would conserve.
« special interests, uh ? wha' did ya do. » and for a second she is ishtar, she is twenty, messy hair & amused bottomless pool eyes. she is the keeper of secrets & the maker of messes. she'll be gone before you can blink ; so you know you can confide in her, be it a sin or a dream. she'll keep it close to her chest, and once in the wild, she'll let it go for you. (your thought will fly away ! how beautiful) there has always been something calming about telling ishtar things, despite her never opening her mouth to do the same. even now, with a few years behind her and a smile that has yet to become sharp, she looks like she could bear the burden of such a confession.
« lemme warn 'im that i'm goin', but i'm buyin' ya a coffee. » a nod, a final punctuation that seems so out of place coming from the girl who prefered her sentences with no end (ellipses everwhere, an open door she always went through when the time seemed right). a nod & yes, she's gone with no further explanations on who the "him" might be. the woman's walking through the crowd like she knows where she's going, and she does, that is the marvelous thing about loving people for real : you pick up the smallest details until you know them by heart. and then you use whatever mess you came up with as a map to guide you home. she finds him not far away from sienna so that if the woman desired, she could look. she'd see ishtar place a hand on his arm, half-tugging until he's leaning forward. creating intimacy in the middle of a crowded room : apparently, a well-rehearsed ritual. a close look and she'd witness the small, amused smile on his lips the second his eyes meet ishtar's, and the way she appears to be talking a bit fast __ like there's no calculation, no hesitation. like she can just let go of the words & offer them to him without caring. and that, surely, must be surprising to anyone who knew the girl & not the woman. even in her most chaotic moments, ishtar is a planner first & foremost. every sentence hits right, for every sentence is part of the game. but these are free, delivered with amused confidence, knowing that if a sentence trips on itself he'll be there to get it back up. knowing that her words are just words, and no ominous prophecies. if anyone else was witnessing the scene, they'd see how ishtar is now laughing, agitating her phone at him with one hand while the other is tugging even more on his sleeve until he's low enough that she can kiss his cheek ... and then she's gone, but not without looking back to wave at him. [ and maybe that is love, too. leaving & taking the time to say goodbye & promising you'll come back. ] + the other person, trusting that you mean it.
her steps bring her back to sienna, giddier than she was minutes prior. « let's go !! i ain't been explorin' a whole lot but i think i saw a café next door. whaddya say ? » raised eyebrow, a question that does sound like one : the interrogation point at the end of it emphasized by the confident smile accompanying it. they are not friends anymore, and ishtar has apparently realized that despite memories keeping them close, there will be no bridge sturdy enough to create the kind of connection they once had. it is not sadness motivating her to follow sienna out of there, it's wonder ; the soft nostalgia of something you wish you had done differently, replaced by the desire to discover what you missed. were she given the chance to go back ... well, she is far too content now to jeopardize it all for a what-if.
#kosmogramm#long post /#MODERN yeehaw .#this is soooo sad im :////#like the difference of vibes?? cursed
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feyril·:
❛ she’s old and it’s about time she DIED ❜
« damn cowboy !! ain't that. like. a bit harsh ? »
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@godbanes just summarized the ishtar experience... i dont need to write anything anymore its all there
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starfrckled·:
ishtar is spelling out his doom for him , her words ever vague but so strikingly clear to his ears , because lloer already knows : his time is running out , this will be no blaze of glory , just his blood soiling the ground . she is talking to a dead man, surely she knows as much . so it’s not what the sorceress is saying that makes his mouth tighten in a grim line , it cannot be —— it’s her tone , almost gentle , sweet in a way that is entirely too false . it feels like poisonous bolts digging their way into his stomach , tearing through flesh and muscle like little merciless soldiers . the half elf would prefer her to scream , to burn bright with anger , just like he wants to , just like the unchecked fury he is edging towards . he is tired of keeping the lead on it sealed inside him , it’s threatening to boil over and spill , uncaring of the damage he might inflict in the process . clock’s ticking and you have wasted your time , kneeling at the feet of your own jailers . they barely even looked at you —— they didn’t even care . never did , never will .
❛ all our clocks are ticking . this is a dying land and i am leaving it to its fate . ❜ they might sound like the words of a coward , yet he is not fleeing to save his skin , only running to his grave . he might as well attempt to do right by the people he has hurt the most , at the very least .
❛ i would rather not fight my way out of here , but i will — if you try to stop me . ❜ he stands before her a traitor , or about to be one , the question is : does she care enough to block his path ? / @dhufeainnewedd
this is a dying land __ oh, who does he think he is talking to ? she is the one with the clock in her hands, watching each little hand tick tick tick relentlessly, knowing one tock will mark the end of everything she holds dear. [ caranthir is nothing but an elf ; but he will fall & his land with him. she knows that. ] she knows that : lloer might not be able to strike anywhere that truly, deeply hurts, but she does not like being reminded of a story she will soon have to tell in a past tense.
« i envy the fools who believe they can escape their land & not carry its fate with them. » she has felt the weight of her forest on her shoulders for years & she is the fateless one. idiots, all of them, thinking they are free to go & free to live !! cannot they see the way fate has put threads around their wrists ? the way they are hanging by the throat, their lives a rope too thick not to carry them until death ? cannot they feel the choking, the dying ? perhaps that is what the curse is about : feeling what others ignore oh so easily. alas, ishtar is not selfish : she'll share the burden with a smile on her lips, happy to know they will have known about the burning long before the flames licked their ankles.
« you will leave. but what you did, you must carry. do not be fooled by your good intentions ... » and this time, her prophecy is a song ! it leaves her lips with a forgotten rhythm, one on which people must have danced, once upon a time. is it not terrible, to be doomed in such a lovely manner ? « your bad deeds outweighs them. and no one will forget it, not even those you seek to protect. »
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Character Development Questions: Hard Mode
Does your character have siblings or family members in their age group? Which one are they closest with?
What is/was your character’s relationship with their mother like?
What is/was your character’s relationship with their father like?
Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?
On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?
Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams?
Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares?
Has your character ever fired a gun? If so, what was their first target?
Is your character’s current socioeconomic status different than it was when they were growing up?
Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?
In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?
In what situation was your character the most calm they’ve ever been?
Is your character bothered by the sight of blood? If so, in what way?
Does your character remember names or faces easier?
Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession? Why or why not?
Which does your character idealize most: happiness or success?
What was your character’s favorite toy as a child?
Is your character more likely to admire wisdom, or ambition in others?
What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before?
In what ways does your character compare themselves to others? Do they do this for the sake of self-validation, or self-criticism?
If something tragic or negative happens to your character, do they believe they may have caused or deserved it, or are they quick to blame others?
What does your character like in other people?
What does your character dislike in other people?
How quick is your character to trust someone else?
How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person?
How does your character behave around children?
How does your character normally deal with confrontation?
How quick or slow is your character to resort to physical violence in a confrontation?
What did your character dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true?
What does your character find repulsive or disgusting?
Describe a scenario in which your character feels most comfortable.
Describe a scenario in which your character feels most uncomfortable.
In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve?
Is your character more likely to keep trying a solution/method that didn’t work the first time, or immediately move on to a different solution/method?
How does your character behave around people they like?
How does your character behave around people they dislike?
Is your character more concerned with defending their honor, or protecting their status?
Is your character more likely to remove a problem/threat, or remove themselves from a problem/threat?
Has your character ever been bitten by an animal? How were they affected (or unaffected)?
How does your character treat people in service jobs?
Does your character feel that they deserve to have what they want, whether it be material or abstract, or do they feel they must earn it first?
Has your character ever had a parental figure who was not related to them?
Has your character ever had a dependent figure who was not related to them?
How easy or difficult is it for your character to say “I love you?” Can they say it without meaning it?
What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?
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wahrsagung·:
“ congratulations, this is officially the nicest way i’ve ever been told i look like shit.. so thanks i guess? ” considering she had a rough day aspen didn’t even try to protest the words that came out of ishtar’s mouth. “ but what happened to you? you are a little pale around the nose yourself. ”
« anytame babe, a-ny-tame. » & she sure looks like she'd do it again : bright smile upon cherry red lips. « uh ? oh !! i ain't been sleepin'. like. at all. did ya know there were a whole lotta stars last naght ? stayed up, drank a liddle, made-out with that cute guy next door. the usual. » memories take ahold of her, and for a second or two she seems as far away as she sounds. FOCUS !! eyes on aspen, conspirational tone when she leans forward. « and what's the problem with ya ? »
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