#Asphodelia

[prince--ofnothing]

The innocent grows the flowers.

[opanchu]

working on eah oc redesigns :sweetiepie:

[vivid-asphodelia]

\\English Below//

Au seuil

Les doigts tachés de crépuscule

je sors parmi les ornières

les sentiers flagellés de hêtres

les salissures de l’humus

les flaques boueuses

sous mes pieds et mes narines

c’est la terre qui saisit mes pas

Je vais au plus profond

abri de ronces

griffes déployées

Je ne m’aventure que là

où les esprits le veulent

écharpée aux rosaires et autres crucifix

j’ai délaissé les Pater

les pardons péremptoires

et sauvé de l’oubli

les ferveurs enfantines

ancien et sauvage

est le temps d’avant

aux merveilles cachées dans le sable et les brumes

Suivre le chemin des lacs

Il m’a fallu renouer

aux galets éloquents

que vent sel pluie soleil

érodent

parcourir les flancs des montagnes millénaires

suivre les contours

ex-voto gravés

déités dont seule la pierre

se souvient

J’ai réappris à entendre

le cri du renard

compter les morceaux de laines offerts

aux rudes branches

prunelliers et aubépines

à chaque croisement

faire le choix de l’Autre Monde

J’effiloche les fils pleins d’agilité

qu’entrecroisent incantations et philtres

toujours dans le sillage

des êtres sans corps à l’odeur de pins

et d’eau souterraine

L’espace se meut

au seuil je me tiens

entre l’arche des frondaisons

ferme et sans bruit

ancrée ancestrale

et la nuée de cailloux

Devenir racine

tubéreuse ou galbanum

devenir feuille

armoise ou achillée

devenir fleur

narcisse ou belladone

Que je n’ai jamais quittée

La peau et les os

les herbes me consacrent

œil et dent

les herbes me bénissent

chair et souffle

les herbes creusent l’extase

------------

Treshold

I go out among the ruts

Fingers stained with twilight

beech scourged paths

the dirt of humus

muddy puddles

under my feet and nostrils

it's the earth that grips my steps

I go to the deepest

shelter of brambles

claws outstretched

I venture only where

where the spirits will

scarred by rosaries and crucifixes

I've abandoned the Pater

peremptory pardons

and saved from oblivion

childish fervors

old and wild

is the time before

with wonders hidden in sand and mist

Follow the path of lakes

I had to reconnect

to the eloquent pebbles

that wind salt rain sun

erode

traverse the slopes of thousand-year-old mountains

follow the contours

engraved votive offerings

deities remembered only in stone

remember

I've relearned to hear

the cry of the fox

to count the pieces of wool offered

to the rough branches

blackthorn and hawthorn

at every crossroads

choosing the Other World

I unravel the agile threads

that intertwine incantations and philtres

always in the wake

of bodiless beings with the scent of pines

and underground water

Space moves

on the threshold I stand

firm and silent

ancestral anchored

between the arch of foliage

and the cloud of pebbles

Becoming root

tuberose or galbanum

become leaf

mugwort or yarrow

become flower

narcissus or belladonna

That I have never left

Skin and bones

herbs consecrate me

eye and tooth

herbs bless me

flesh and breath

herbs dig ecstasy

[livdfree]

Man I don’t know what came over me, but the need for Uldren with Asphodelias tore me away from everything else-

Based off of a thread from twitter, original piece by @/itwasleo

[synnthamonsugar]

Mara sits cross-legged in the canopy shade of Riven's wing. She wets the pad of her thumb with the tip of her tongue, then uses the moisture to hold a bundle of fresh-picked asphodelia in place. Riven turns to watch. On this day, her head is the size of a Fallen pike. She is vibrant blue with a yellow and red crest . . .

- Riven, The Dreaming City lore book

My entry for One Last Wish, a Destiny 2 ahamkara zine. Check out the full book & all the entries @onelastwishzine!

[theforsakenprince]

hey you ever think about the fact that the Asphodelia flowers we see everywhere in the dreaming city came from the flower Uldren picked from the black garden. How enough time had passed since his entry into the Black Garden and now for it to become an engrained part of Awoken culture. How long was Uldren dealing with the madness Bungie. How long was he slowly drifting apart from Jolyon

[crow-posting]

more

Awoken Headcanons

note: this is mostly based on my own audacity rather than actual lore. 🤫

-

Earthborn and Awoken Guardians are like the book versions of LotR elves, while Reefborn are like the movie versions. They're actually similar, but to outsiders, Earthborn are friendly and full of life while Reefborn are aloof and elegant like their queen. This perception, though frustrating to people like Petra, generally works in Mara's favor so she allows it to continue.

Awoken Speech sounds more like creole than a separate language. This is due to the multitude of languages spoken aboard the Yang Liwei, which then carried over into the dialects in the Distributary. Although some argue Speech is a mixed language rather than creole, consensus from both the Gensym Scribes and Last City's Cryptarchy has not yet been reached.

Portmanteau examples:

daatma (ดาว/"dāw" + आत्मा/"ātman"): Awoken [older gen]

tulatma (tulay + आत्मा/"ātman"): Awoken [younger gen]

luxïn (luz + 星/"xīng"): starlight

noyam (noyer + يوم/"yawm"): Darkness

Traditional Awoken names usually sound "soft," with palatalized consonants and several vowels. The most common ending letters are "A" (Mara, Petra, Amrita) and "N" (Uldren, Jolyon, Nasan), while the most uncommon letter is "K" (Tulnik).

Most Reefborn are highly superstitious, due to the environment they grew up in. However they don't consider themselves superstitious, as it is only "practical" to refer to The Dreaming using epithets instead of names, or to look for omens in dreams, or to treat water and reflections as near-sacred, and so on.

Promises and vows / oaths are generally a life-long ordeal for Awoken, especially for Reefborn and especially if they are made to Mara. This is partly influenced by the post-Distributary riots, partly influenced by contracts with Ahamkara, and partly influenced by Mara's own charisma, which has created an almost religious devotion* amongst her followers.

*(Embarrassingly, when Calus sought to imitate this sense of devotion to lure Awoken Guardians to the Menagerie, he was partially successful.)

Balance is an important part of Awoken culture. Past and future and life and death are strongly emphasized by Reefborn, while Earthborn have integrated Old Earth philosophies like yin-yang and wabi-sabi. While Awoken Guardians tend to be less ardent about balance and/or a desire for it, there are noticeably less Awoken within the Praxic Order than in other Vanguard-affiliated organizations.

The Awoken don't believe in a physical afterlife, only the Unreal. This makes the existence of Awoken Guardians egregious to other Awoken, as they do not "return" from death, but rather "take form" of people who no longer exist. Even so, Guardians (or "Noble Dead") are still treated with respect - out of love for the ones they look like, and fear of the entities they are.

(Awoken don't believe in reincarnation either, as The Awakening is considered an "extraordinary" circumstance.)

Contrary to popular belief, male Awoken aren't ostracized in Reefborn society, and they aren't considered second-class citizens either. Even so, due to the 70/30 split [which has persisted since the Distributary], it is rare to see male Reefborn in high-level positions or as Techeuns. The perceived lack of opportunity has led to an increase in Reefborn emigrants in recent years, especially after the Battle of Saturn.

Due to the loss of resources and difficulties of growing food in the Reef, Reefborn dishes are "bland" compared to Earthborn ones. The most common seasonings are salt, cold-hardy herbs like mint, and corasteri (a star-shaped culinary variant of asphodelia). However, Reefborn food is both warming and filling, which is suited to a life in deep space.

The Dreaming City is surprisingly bare in terms of flora and fauna. Aside from pink asphodelia, queensfoil, baryon bough and memorial trees - most of which are cultivated - there are very few plants to be found. Spectral butterflies and non-native jewel bugs can be found in gardens and lost sectors, and starcats have free rein of the buildings, but there is no urban wildlife like in the Last City and Earth's metropolitan ruins. The vibrance is an illusion; it is as empty as the Reef's biodomes.

Earthborn do not live as long as their Reefborn counterparts; higher oxygen levels, increased gravity, and larger amounts of pollution make life more difficult for people adapted to space. Ironically, this is the inverse issue the Awoken faced when leaving the Distributary.

Awoken anatomy is uncanny if you look closely enough. Most traits fall within expectations (eg resistance to radiation, increased reaction time) but adaptations like tapetum lucidum can still startle people who aren't used to seeing them. Experimental traits, which are common in later-generation Reefborn, make some seem entirely inhuman. And the ability to track Guardians by their Light will never not be creepy.

Experimental traits include but aren't limited to: pointed ears; nictitating membranes (i.e. "third eyelids"); and genital slits [for Awoken specifically created for deep space missions].

Due to a history of bio-engineering, cybernetic augments are seen as unnecessary and rarely utilized outside of eutechs, and later, Techeuns. Fully robotic components, such as exo frames, are practically unheard of and often met with pity or revulsion.

The 891 are forbidden from seeking information about their lives from The Time Before (aka pre-Collapse lives), as it is considered a "distraction" from Mara's plan. Descendant Awoken are also discouraged from pursuing such info unless it is considered pertinent to their mission.

Queenslaw has been partially lifted in the Reef, due to the influx of Guardians after the Battle of Saturn. Many things once considered illegal or taboo are now acceptable, and some things are even encouraged. Unfortunately, not everyone agrees with these "sudden" changes and it has done little to reduce tensions between factions, most notably the Gensym Scribes and the Last City's Cryptarchy.

-

Reefborn sobriquets often refer to relationships (Uldren "Queensbrother," Taranis "Rivensmate," Petra "Covensdaughter"). Earthborn nicknames are often more individualized but still invoke a sense of interconnectedness (eg "Swornsister" Takara, Avraam "Firstborn").

Although the Awoken are known for their music (for ceremonies, parties, mourning, etc.) Earth-derived music seems just as violent to them as the Guardians who enjoy it. Knowing this, RZ-3 intentionally made a playlist to "scare" Petra on missions, and has successfully startled several Corsairs by belting out the lyrics to "Teenagers" while doing patrols.

-

[official grimoire / lore books: The Maraid (D1); Marasenna, The Awoken of the Reef, The Dreaming City (D2, general); The Forsaken Prince, A Tangled Web, Ripples (D2, Uldren/Crow), Ecdysis (D2, the Emissary)]

[specific lore that Tickles My Brain: "Holdfast Bond," "The Supremacy", "Third Gift"; "Crow's Best Night"]

-

[see also: "Things I Think About: Awoken Edition"; "Awoken Phrases & Exclamations"; "Last City Lingo"; timeline in the Distributary; Awoken amethyst]

[asphodel-storm]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir & My Unit | Byleth Characters: Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir, My Unit | Byleth Additional Tags: background Edelgard von Hresvelg/Byleth, Fake Marriage, but it takes a while to get there, Ferdinand dates an obvious Agarthan, Hubert is definitely not jealous Series: Part 2 of Once, Twice, Thrice Summary:

The harder Ferdinand tries, the more he seems to come up short. Especially where Hubert is concerned.

Maybe his efforts will be more appreciated by the girl his father wants him to court?

((Hubert von Vestra and Ferdinand von Aegir are each married three times in their lives, and every time is to each other. Part two: an academy wedding as a defensive strategy.))

[eventiderookery]

Dead Gods

or the Black Garden stag ornament that i desperately want to exist, complete with bigger antlers, asphodelia flowers that look like spider lilies, and weird glowing vex bits

[braindamagedrizz]

That time post-corruption Ruxiz brought Osiris and Saint a bouquet of Asphodelia and they almost had a heart attack

[a-driftamongopenstars]

in our garden; uldren x jolyon;

in our garden (1.7k); mature; uldren x jolyon; hanahaki disease; body and psychological horror elements; read on ao3 Uldren stares at the petal, brushes its perfect, calculated curve with his thumb. In all the millennia of storytelling and story-gathering, he has never heard of something like this. It frightens him, yet invigorates him. A chill down his spine, a memory of a nightmare that he cannot remember. An Asphodelia flower’s petal in his hand.

well, finally posting this fic :> it's been fun to write it, but it's so sad and asdfdf.

[narrated]

asphodelia flowers in bloom around him, swaying sweetly in the faint breeze. this little hill is hidden towards the back of the harbinger's seclude, one of the dreaming city's many secrets. it is then to his surprise that the sound of footsteps fall on his ears, the crunch of boots under frost-coated grass. jolyon lifts their head to see her standing there, enough space remaining that he cannot tell if it is respect or uncertainty. ❛   young wolf,   ❜ they incline their head to hotaru, worrying a single plucked petal between his thumb and index finger. his brow furrows as the moment passes, pondering her presence in a place that is specifically difficult to find. ❛   did petra send you here?   ❜ / @knghtlock.

[opanchu]

miss my eah ocs so I drew two of them ^__^

[prince--ofnothing]

A drabble. May turn to something more.

In the darkness...

In the darkness, cold. And alone. He's curled up under the fabric that still felt like home. His knuckles are white from the pressure of which he gripped the cloak-turned-blanket, feeling the fibers taunt against his fingertips. It was all he could do. Opening one eye slowly, it was quite a surprise to see a figure he didn't recognise stood so close to him. A rifle slung over the figure's shoulder, concern written on their face. Narrow eyes stared, his own widening and pupils pinpricking.

At first he thought it was Petra coming in, but this person... Stars, there was something about them that he couldn't place. He sits up, watches the figure back awak slightly, and runs a hand though his hair.

"can I... Help? You?"

-

Uldren's a wreck. He was pretending to sleep, and Jolyon knew it. There's... Recognition of some kind in the Prince's eyes, but the way Uldren looked at him like he was some kind of background character from one of those elaborate plays where you forget even the show star's name hurts him. He moves to sit at the edge of the prison bed, gently lying a hand over the blanket. It's crusted with dust and filth and he can't help but grimace slightly.

-

She's calling to him. He knows it. This stranger with a familiar face is in his way and she's calling out for him. The gloved hand settles on the fabric and he jerks it away, staring daggers toward the tall man with white hair. Smart eyes stare daggers right back. Who is this? Who is this who comes into his Cell, who has Petra sent him? What grand security. There's silence. Neither wish to speak first, though both have plenty to say. He can't help but see the longing in the other's eyes and it sends pangs in his heart. A flower is produced, from one of the pouches on the other's belt. Uldren's eyes gravitate toward it immediately.

Asphodelia.

It grows in the Black Garden.

Everything grows there.

Confusion blossoms in his chest, a stain across the white silk of his stability, and his breath hitches. But he doesn't recognise this man. He won't. Not now.

-

"You recognise this, don't you Uldren?"

Jolyon attempts to keep his tone level but he can't hide the trembling shake it had developed. He reaches toward Uldren curled like some feral animal there on the bed, and hands it to him. He can't help but see the way Uldren's fingers twitched when he took it.

"I know you don't recognise me. But you know the flower. You know it, Uldren... Think. Maybe it will remind you."

With that, he stood and he left.

-

As the other leaves the room, his eyes focus. He watches him walk away like he's never seen him before, then the flower arrests his attention.

Asphodelia. It grows... In the Reef. Illyn planted it there, after he gave them to Mara. He clutches the single blossom tightly, and looks for her... though he can't see her now he can feel her presence still. She likes the flower. Doesn't she?

[eggsmuses-a]

stcrmcalling ― ❝quote❞ for Uldren? ;w;

canon lines / accepting

#ﾞ ᴜ ——— ❝ Asphodelia is it's name, ❞ the prince crouches, brushing a hand through the garden bed. He plucks the flower, the stem wriggling between his fingertips as Uldren rolls it.

His eyelids shrink down, closing them. He's recalling something, a grimness, a time that seems fogged in his mind's eye. Then he remembers just a sliver, a gentle fall of sand that he tries to grab as the memories slip through his fingers. Glancing to the Guardian, he updates them, ❝ It only grew in the Black Garden. ❞

@stcrmcalling

[synnthamonsugar]

one-word writing prompts, intractable, mara/eris?

Clad in thermal underlayers and the loose head scarf she wears at rest, Eris regards the Reef-purple skin-pressure suit laid out on the bunk before her in preparation for the day's mission outside the ship. Her eyes linger on its glistening glass dome helmet, boots and gloves that look almost too fashionable to be protective equipment. Next to it, a tangle of harness webbing meant to hold armor plates, supply pouches, and life support units waiting for them near the airlock of the vessel.

The elegant tech stands in contrast to the rest of the objects scattered on Eris' bunk. She didn't have much time to pack for the journey, but still managed to snag some essentials from Sanctuary. A worn field blanket, hive tablets, a leather-bound journal, dried asphodelia bound together with a string of beads, a rucksack filled with carving tools, ritual objects and mundane necessities. Visible only by its green glow, the ahamkara bone shard is nestled among the folds, and her armor lay in a crumpled heap. In the brief time they've been traveling together, Eris has managed to stake out at least this part of the ship as her own. It's comforting in its familiarity, even if it's a reminder of a place that is anything but.

"Manufactured precisely to your specifications," Mara comments, strolling into the quarters in an identical garment. It's not too different from her usual attire, Eris notes, though she lacks the usual capelette or cloak from her Dreaming City uniform, no fur ruff or badge or sash either. Combined with the tight-fitting hood that flattens out her voluminous hair, she looks distressingly bare, fragile almost, like a bird plucked clean of her plumage. 

She idly picks up the suit. In its inert state, it's stretchy, the densely woven network of wires inside bumpy under her fingertips. It feels pleasantly sturdy despite being so light, but she still puts it down after a moment.

"I appreciate the effort, Mara, but I have ways to protect myself." 

"And they are clever. However, I think it's prudent that your magic be spared for what lies in wait on the approach to the Pyramid."

"You underestimate the reserves of my power. It takes little more effort than breathing."

"We are entering the vacuum of space. Eris. . ." There's a pointedness to Mara's voice that pricks at her ears. She's heard this tone more on this trip than in all their years of work together, though this is the first time on the journey she's felt certain <i>Mara herself</i> is behind it. "In our joint ventures, I've always given you the freedom to operate as you see fit, as you've given me. The mission ahead is dangerous, even by our standards, and harm coming to one of us could spell doom for both. For this reason, I must insist you use the best tools available."

"How are you sure mine aren't?"

"Because mine is made with thousands of years of Awoken astronautical research." 

"I am not one of your people." She makes a sweeping gesture toward her armor and hive accoutrements, "This is what works for me."

Their gazes lock in a tense moment of silence. Eris tries not to feel impressed at how well Mara manages to maintain eye contact despite their mismatched numbers. Her emotions are inflamed enough that conceding even this would feel like a defeat. 

"This isn't about the suit, is it?"

Eris attempts to gather her words and fails because they aren't usually hers to say. To think about saying them at all makes her feel unlike herself, flush with an uneasy, jittery warmth. She may hide from the petty and cruel strangers of the Tower, but among her confidants she's never felt particular embarrassment about her physical condition. Had Asher not dirtied his hands with ichor helping change her bandages in the infirmary? Had Ikora not felt her horns and scales when she washed her hair early in her recovery?

So why was she hesitant to slip out of her veil and bare her face in front of Mara? Why was she self-conscious around the woman with whom she'd shared almost everything else: hope, fears, plans, secrets, even the power of life and death? At the Battle of Saturn, she thought they'd crossed the boundary between their carefully curated personae into something more vulnerable, more intimate, but perhaps she underestimated the elegant wall they'd built, mistaking secrets slid through the cracks for its fall. 

Prompted by Eris' silence, Mara tries continuing. "If you feel shy—"

" — I know I shouldn't be —"

"There is nothing wrong with that, but I assure you nothing you can show me will come as a shock—" 

"I don't want you to look at me and see the face of your killer."

Nary a ripple of surprise across her porcelain face. Instead, she takes a step closer, places her hands loose across Eris' shoulders, her touch cool but comforting.

"Beloved, I could see only you."

Eris feels no need to ask for Mara's word, her promise sealed with a feather-soft touch of lips.