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Niamh didn't often get sick, but when she did, she was down for the count. She'd caught a bad cold, which meant she was spending most of the day in bed. "You don't have to fret over me, sweetheart," she said to Bluu, who was setting a tray with tea and soup on the nightstand. "I'm sure in a couple of days I'll be feeling much better." She reached out and patted her daughter's arm.

After Bluu had finger-combed her hair and pinned it up, she built up the fire and began cooking breakfast for her mother, but her movements were automatic and stiff. She couldn’t stop thinking about her mother, disjointed thoughts that leaped from subject to subject concerning her health. Niamh had looked much better this morning, without fever dulling her blue eyes and leaving her face drawn. It was probably too soon for her to be doing anything physical, but how was she supposed to stop her if she wanted to grab her pelt and go for a swim? She just hoped Niamh wouldn't start coughing up blood. “Fever isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Bluu explained as she brought the cup of herbal tea to Niamh's lips. “It seems to help the body fight infection. You know that cauterizing a wound stops infection, so it stands to reason that the heat from a fever works in the same way. It’s only when it goes on too long or gets too high, that it’s dangerous because it weakens the body."

She tsked. "I told you not to go out swimming in the sea. It gets cold this time of year and you could have turned into ice and sunk!"

@intothewildsea

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film ask meme : NOSFERATU (2024) directed by ROBERT EGGERS.

a selection of lines from the 2024 film nosferatu. modified for rp purposes.

you are not for the living. you are not for human kind.

do you swear it?

come here. there is nothing to be afraid of.

today is of the utmost importance for us.

it will be a great adventure for you.

why have you killed these beautiful flowers?

i must tell you my dream.

standing before me, all in black, was Death.

the stench of their bodies was horrible.

i had never been so happy as that moment, as i held hands with Death.

never speak these things aloud. never.

i wish you to have all you deserve.

it's worth celebrating your adventure. i envy you.

i fear their past melancholy is returning.

don't let them feed me to the monster!

remember, it's all for us.

you bring trouble with you.

beware his shadow. the shadow covers you in a nightmare.

you are late. the midnight hour is passed.

i fear we yet keep close many superstitions here that may seem backward to someone of your high learning.

they exhumed a corpse.

i might ease your wound.

come by the fire. your face shows you unwell.

why ever did you bring that here?

what can cheer this poor humor, my love?

do you ever feel, at times, as if you were not a person?

we all feel out of sorts, set apart, at times. small or alone.

you are fortunate in your love.

it is a black omen to journey in poor health.

no one. i am no one.

he loves the pretty ones best.

you are lost in his shadow.

remain here. his evil cannot enter this house of God.

soon i will be no more a shadow to you.

your spirit was never enough.

no matter. i miscalculated the stars.

hermes will not render my black sulfur gold this evening.

do not revel what is sacred to dogs.

does evil come from within us or from beyond?

this evil, what it it is, how it has been summoned - unleashed - i know not.

there is a dread storm rising.

your bond shall not survive me.

it is a force more powerful than evil. it is death itself.

i have wrestled with the devil as jacob wrestled the angel in peniel.

if we are to tame darkness, we must first face that it exists.

i told you, you are not of human kind.

i am an appetite. nothing more.

i cannot be sated without you.

remember how once we were?

you have never liked me.

nothing you can say will shake me - for there is a devil in this world, and i have met him.

don't touch me. i am not to be touched.

the grim reaper wields his heavy scythe with every change of wind.

your horror has rent our hearts, but you must hear us.

these nightmares do exist! they exist!

the monster left you to the wolves, and yet you prevailed.

we must know evil to be able to destroy it. we must discover it within ourselves.

i need no salvation.

you will put an end to all of this?

i feel his hold upon me this night.

i am ready. i bid you, come to me.

i relinquished him my soul.

god is beyond our morals.

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Kazane had always had a way of holding herself apart from the world. As if she were more an observer than a participant. She’d been a challenge from the moment Bluu had first seen her. In her mind, Kazane had been an annoying cop poking her pretty little nose where it didn't belong, asking the already disgruntled locals questions, and riding up to her home to disturb her peace in search of several missing tourists. They had been frat boys who had gotten the bright idea to treat the island like a tourist attraction and got their dumbasses lost in the marshes. Out of sight. Out of mind.

Back then, that hadn't mattered to Bluu. She had been unkind and unwelcoming, but Kazane had stubbornly remained in her presence without fear until Bluu couldn’t help but notice her as a person rather than a moving part of the scenery or a pest.

Bluu could remember perfectly the exact moment when Kazane had won her heart: Bluu had woken Kaz from her sleep during the late hours of the morning and in the middle of whispered apologies for accidentally touching Kaz's scar and inquiries about her sleep and general awkwardness of hosting a beautiful woman in her home, Bluu had looked at her and blinked, a faintly startled expression crossing her face as if Kaz had suddenly come into focus. That was it; no kiss, no heartfelt exchanges in the cold light of day, just a sudden clarity in her gaze as she finally saw the dark-haired beauty for who she really was. Then Bluu smiled and told her the tea was ready, and with those words, they were linked. Amazing. Okay, it was also amazing that she had surfaced from her chores and seasonal depression long enough to closely observe her, but once she did, she couldn’t get her face out of her mind.

Kazane wasn’t ugly; She barely qualified as plain. There was something about her, in the strong, clean lines of her face and the way she walked, an almost gliding stride that made Bluu think maybe her feet didn’t quite touch the ground, that had kept consciousness of her nagging at her like a persistent tic that wouldn't let go. Her dark hair, smooth skin that gleamed like moonlight, high cheekbones, and full lips... Kazane was every artist's muse, but to Bluu, she was simply heaven-sent. An Angel.

Learning about her had fascinated Bluu. She liked knowing that she had a sweet aging grandfather, that she had attended the police academy, that she enjoyed, fashion, and, thank God, could scrap better than any man, which was admirable and made her even more intriguing. Bluu was beguiled by her serenity; if Kaz had a temper, she’d never seen it. She was the most evenly balanced person she’d ever met, and even after moving in together, Bluu still couldn’t quite believe her luck.

“I miss the beach.” Bluu gently caught Kaz's hand, the one exploring her body, and pulled it to her breast, rubbing her dusky nipple against her pale fingers. “I miss the long stretches of land. The way the light of the setting sun would splinter on the waves as they crashed over the underwater boulders. The way water shimmied and glittered like thousands of diamonds as it rolled to shore." Bluu leaned forward a little and kissed her with the slow, sultry skill of experience, her tongue lightly tracing the shape of her bottom lip, the contact light, warm, and sweet. "But most of all," she whispered, breaking the kiss to rub their noses together again. "Most of all, I miss walking down the beach with you and Samson. Even when the seagulls whispered to us and the deer screamed."

@temporalobjects

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FOG HOLLOW BESTIARY : THE MER

The Mer are corrupted sea nymphs eternally bound to Fog Hollow and are attendants to the Master Below. They have the appearance of mermaids but are a hideous mixture of human and fish with sharp teeth and barbed tails. 

Mer are entirely magical beings and, as such, do not use physical weapons to attack as they prefer using their tails and teeth to defend themselves. Despite their outward appearance, the Mer are gifted with beautiful singing voices, typically used to mesmerize their prey or lure them to their deaths.

Like Fog Wolves, they are drawn to secluded environments, though some gravitate towards human activity in search of readily available flesh. The meat of both humans and animals satisfies some of a Mer’s hunger, but it does little to sate it entirely. They are the bane of fishermen as they have a habit of climbing up onto boats to seize all onboard and will even capsize smaller boats with their tails. Mer are vicious and cruel and detests all humans.

Lifespan: ???

 Weaknesses: Fire

Population: 100

Notes: There is a temple underneath the island. It is an elaborate underground base consisting of caverns, sacrificial altars, murals created by the Mer, body parts that did not come from humans, and a dungeon. The temple is where the Mer make their home and their sacrifices.

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thewildwoodmoth.co.uk

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Detail : Moonlit Shipwreck at Sea, 1901, by Moran Thomas.

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guiding light

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"I was chasing after you in a dream," said Kazane, once she deemed that they had dozed enough under the misty morning sun. Her fingers ran slowly over her partner's temple, her brows, and traced her beautiful jawline. "We were on the beach. But I knew it wasn't real, somehow. Maybe, because I couldn't smell the sea?" She almost missed that place, even with all its unexplained horrors. "I managed to catch your hand before I woke up." The corporal smiled and planted a kiss upon Bluu's sleepy eyelids. "Silly, right?"

It was different the next morning as if the world had altered during the night, but Bluu couldn’t quite put her finger on the difference. It was an oddly familiar feeling as if she were more at home with herself. Kaze was in her arms, her sleek, jet-black hair lying tangled around her head as she traced her jawline with her delicate bird-like fingers. If they had been in the cottage, Bluu would have got up to rebuild the fire, then returned to bed for some early-morning loving and cuddles. "Were you wearing a bikini?" Bluu teased, snuggling further in her warm body. The two women lay together, motionless, the only movement was that of the wind stirring against the windows of Kaze's home, the only sound that of the trees rustling together, sighing. Bluu felt dazed by her dream, her senses buffeted as if she had just weathered a storm. She was incapable of action. Choosing instead to relish in the peace of the warm little bubble she and her beloved had created.

The white cotton nightgown Bluu wore was almost transparent, plastered to her body the way it was. Her nipples were hard and erect, plainly visible under the wet cotton, and the fabric was molded to her hips and thighs. With the sun shining through the material, she might as well have been naked for all the protection the dress gave her, left cold by the thin fabric only to be warmed by Kaze's embrace. At that, Bluu smirked and playfully nipped at Kaze's fingers, brown eyes flashing with mischief. "Not silly," she soothed with a gentle kiss on her pale wrist, her pulse rushing and alive. "It means you miss home…our home." What used to be home. Fog Island had been her home and prison. "Sometimes, I miss it."

@temporalobjects

[hollow-mist]

Bluu is very house proud and that extends to her tiny garden. Working with the soil, watching the first shoots and buds appear, and harvesting her own fruit and vegetables gives Bluu a feeling of purpose. Gardening is therapeutic for her and allows her to work out some of her emotions safely. Bluu will also channel her creativity and use her garden as her canvas, making it a living art piece. Should she go for an English garden, a rock garden, or a drought-resistant one? What colors and kinds of flowers? Does she want a vegetable garden to use in her cooking or as a model for a painting? Gardening inspires her imagination, and Bluu will feel proud when things start to grow and even feel as if she’s a big part of why she has the most bountiful herbs or why her strawberries are so juicy and sweet.

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Bluu usually didn’t eat breakfast, sustaining herself with an endless supply of tea until lunch, when her stomach would be burning, and she wouldn’t be able to eat much. But already, the strain of her day was fading away, and she wanted food.

She bustled about the kitchen cooking brunch and managed to whip up two plates of food in a startlingly short length of time. “Mama!” she called. “Come down to eat! I made omelets and honeyed ham!” Falling on her plate like a famine victim, Bluu devoured the omelet and toast in record time before promptly sneaking a tiny piece of ham off of Niamh's plate. What she didn’t know won’t hurt her. Besides, she was probably switching hiding places for her pelt.

Niamh had just tucked her pelt in its new hiding spot when she heard Bluu call for her. Her stomach grumbled at the mention of food. "Coming!" she called back, though it took her a few minutes. She stopped by the bathroom to wash her hands first and to pull back her messy curls. By the time she had gotten downstairs Bluu had devoured her breakfast.

"Goodness, you were hungry." Niamh sat down at the table. "Thank you for making something to eat, sweetheart." She hadn't been feeling well and making breakfast had seemed like an insurmountable task that morning. She picked up her fork and began to pick at her omelet. Her stomach was grumbling but she didn't have much of an appetite - still, she was going to eat because Bluu went through all of the trouble of making food.

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This leather-bound journal has "Property of Adrian Marks" written inside its cover. 

Dear Journal,

We set out at dawn on orders from our boss. He’s heard rumors of hidden gold at a place called Fog Hollow. Unfortunately, the island is said to be surrounded by a thick fog, and it doesn't appear on any of our maps, but we're told the locals may be able to help, and the boss managed to hire a captain who knows how to get to the island. With any luck, I’ll be using that gold to buy myself a yacht.

Adrian 

Dear Journal, 

I'd heard stories of nasty run-ins with the locals, but The Mayor, her wife, and the whole fishing community welcomed us warmly. Fed us as well as could be expected and marked the location of The Deep Temple on our maps. The Mayor doesn’t seem to mind outsiders snooping around her island for gold and even gave us supplies. Strange, but my friends and I weren’t complaining. It’s going to be a long walk.

Adrian

Dear Journal,

We left for The Deep Temple this morning. Michael wasn't happy about leaving some of his equipment behind, but the cameras were too heavy to carry, and Lisa was losing patience. I haven’t seen anyone since we left the town, but she's afraid another group might beat us to the treasure.

Adrian

Dear Journal,

The storms on this island were some of the worst I've seen, but we made it. We set up camp by the temple, but we're all looking forward to going inside. At least it'll be dry in there. The air around this place feels...cold. 

Adrian

Dear Journal, 

We lost Georgie and Michael today. They left their tents to take pictures and never came back. Lisa keeps saying that they probably chickened out and left, but I’m not so sure... I don't know what, but something about this place seems off. The others feel it, too. I should never have left Michigan. 

Adrian

Dear Journal,

The murals here are incredible - proof that there was life here on the island before the settlers came! That they might have even built this place! I keep trying to explain this to Lisa, but she won't listen. Lisa is obsessed. She says we have to go deeper.

But the deeper we go, the harder it is to see. It’s so dark. 

Adrian

Most of the pages are dark red and stiff, stained with blood.

A few pages have been ripped from the end.

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Bluu’s favorite hobby is embroidery because she loves how calming and meditative embroidery is. Usually, she has a hard time shutting off her brain and dealing with her anxiety, but repetitive movements of working the stitches can be meditative and soothing. It’s a perfect way to disconnect from the world and connect to her inner self. Hand embroidery gives Bluu confidence, and releases stress and anxiety. Bluu will always use natural materials like cotton or silk threads, cotton or linen fabrics, or even fabric remnants. Also, she knows plenty of ways to reuse materials, use up fabric scraps, and mend and adjust clothes without wasting valuable resources.