#Cirene

[mitosenespanol]

Aristeo, hijo de Apolo, y la extraña muerte de las abejas de Tempe

Apolo se enamoró perdidamente de una náyade de nombre Cirene, hija de Hipseo y Creúsa. Gracias a sus talentos para el deporte y la cacería, llamó la atención del dios y este la convirtió en reina de una ciudad en Libia, a la que bautizó con el nombre de su amada.

Después de un tiempo, Cirene dio a luz a un niño llamado Aristeo. Además de ser su partero, Hermes fue su proveedor y lo alimentó con la ambrosía de los dioses, y las ninfas del bosque le enseñaron numerosas artes domésticas: le enseñaron a cuajar leche y hacer queso, a construir colmenas y a hacer que el oleastro diera el olivo cultivado. Además, Apolo lo dirigió a Beocia para que el centauro Quirón lo instruyera en sus propios misterios.

El joven no solamente tenía muchos talentos, también gustaba de compartirlos. Enseñó a los habitantes de Cirene todo lo que había aprendido de las ninfas del bosque. Por tal motivo, empezó a ser honrado como una divinidad. Cuando Aristeo llegó a la edad viril, se casó con una mujer llamada Autónoe y juntos engendraron a Acteón y a Macris.

En una ocasión, consultó al oráculo de Delfos, que le dijo que fuera a la isla de Ceos, donde se le rendirían grandes honores por sus enseñanzas. Cuando llegó a la isla, se llevó una desagradable y triste sorpresa: los culpables de asesinar a Icario debían ser castigados y mientras no confesaran su crimen, la isla sufriría de terribles plagas. Aristeo convocó a los habitantes y les ordenó que hicieran ofrendas a Zeus. Complacido, el dios ordenó a los vientos que soplaran favorablemente sobre Grecia y cesaran las plagas. Además, los culpables fueron hallados y castigados.

Después de su paso por Ceos, Aristeo viajó a la ciudad de Tempe. Allí, mientras vagaba por el bosque, divisó a una hermosa mujer que también caminaba errante. Se acercó y pudo notar que se trataba de una ninfa. Capturado por su belleza, le pidió que se fuera con él. Para su desgracia, la ninfa de nombre Eurídice le contó que estaba enamorado de Orfeo, un músico protegido de Apolo, y que él le correspondía, por lo que no estaba dispuesta a conocer otro hombre. Molesto ante la negativa de la ninfa, Aristeo trató de llevársela por la fuerza, pero esta logró zafarse y corrió a toda velocidad. Desgraciadamente, pisó una serpiente que la mordió y el veneno la envió inmediatamente al Hades.

Aristeo permaneció unos días más en Tempe. Al poco tiempo, notó un evento extraño que lo dejó desconcertado: la tierra se cubrió de abejas muertas. Como apicultor, se sintió bastante apenado, así que buscó a su madre Cirene en el estanque del río Peneo. Allí fue recibido por su tía Aretusa, quien lo dirigió al palacio de las náyades, en el fondo del río. Después de bañarlo y honrarlo con un gran banquete, las náyades le aconsejaron buscar a su tío Proteo y cuestionarlo a él por la muerte de las abejas.

Teniendo que viajar hasta la isla de Faros donde vivía Proteo, Aristeo finalmente lo encontró descansando en una cueva y pudo preguntar si alguna enfermedad extraña aquejaba a las abejas. Decepcionado de su sobrino, el espíritu marino respondió: "El origen del mal de las abejas eres tú. Tú provocaste la muerte de la ninfa Eurídice con tu lujuria, y por eso las abejas mueren todos los días".

Aristeo regresó al palacio de las náyades para pedir a su madre y tías que le aconsejaran cómo podría deshacerse de la maldición que sus malas acciones habían precipitado sobre las abejas. La propia Cirene le ordenó construir cuatro altares en el bosque de Tempe y consagrarlos a las hermanas de Eurídice, las ninfas protectoras de aquel paraje. Además, debía sacrificar cuatro toros y cuatro novillas, y hacer libaciones con las sangre de aquellas reses. Para solicitar el perdón de las ánimas que afectó, debía llevar hierbas del olvido, una ternera y una oveja negra, para ofrendar al espíritu del amante de Eurídice, Orfeo, que ya la había alcanzado en el Hades.

Al cabo de unos días, Aristeo fue perdonado. Un enjambre de abejas surgió de las entrañas de los animales sacrificados. Tras capturarlas, les hizo una colmena y enseñó a los habitantes de Tempe cómo criarlas. Así fue como el hijo de Apolo comenzó a ser honrado en la ciudad como un dios.

www.mitosenespanol.tumblr.com

Lee mitos coreanos aquí.

Lee mitos japoneses aquí.

Conoce sobre los símbolos del Tarot aquí.

[kitthenameless]

Sometimes I like to color coordinate my team ✨

Mods: PK Clothes and Armors. Slutty Closet. Basket Full of Equipment NSFW. Mystical Fashions. Neil's Bangin' Bard Gear. Horns of Faerun. Some Heads For Bodytype 2. Dissidia Hair (for SH's hair). I think my boots are from a mod no longer available.

[rojosweet]

Eratóstenes de Cirene

Un brillante matemático y astrónomo griego, hizo esta hazaña en el siglo III a.C. Observó que en la ciudad de Siena (hoy Asuán, Egipto), al mediodía del solsticio de verano, el Sol estaba directamente sobre sus cabezas y los objetos no proyectaban sombras. Sin embargo, en Alejandría, más al norte, los objetos sí proyectaban sombra.

Eratóstenes midió el ángulo de esa sombra en Alejandría, calculando que era aproximadamente 7.2 grados, que es una fracción de 1/50 del círculo completo (360 grados). Luego, conocía la distancia entre ambas ciudades (aproximadamente 800 km) y usó una simple proporción para calcular la circunferencia de la Tierra

Eratóstenes partió de la suposición, en su tiempo de que la tierra era redonda, su fórmula, se basa en la geometría esférica.

En una tierra plana no habría diferencia angular entre las sombras en diferentes lugares; esto debido, a que el ángulo de las sombras depende de la curvatura de la tierra. Si el sol estuviese suficientemente lejos, los rayos llegarían de forma paralela a todos los puntos de la superficie, de esta forma, si el sol estaba directamente sobre Siena, no debería haber sombra ni en Siena ni en Alejandría, Eratóstenes al observar que en Siena no había sombra, pero sí en Alejandría, pudo explicar que la superficie de tierra era redonda.

Eratóstenes sabía que en el solsticio de verano, al mediodía en Siena, hoy Asuán, Egipto, el Sol no proyectaba sombra en los pozos. Mientras tanto, en Alejandría, al norte, un objeto vertical (un gnomon) proyectaba una sombra; Eratóstenes midió el ángulo de la sombra del gnomon y obtuvo un ángulo aproximado de 7.2 grados, o 1/50 de un círculo completo (360 grados); Eratóstenes, sabía que la distancia entre Siena y Alejandría era de aproximadamente 5,000 estadios (una antigua unidad de medida griega), dado que los 7.2 grados equivalen a 1/50 del círculo completo, Eratóstenes multiplicó la distancia entre las ciudades por 50, estimando así la circunferencia total de la Tierra en aproximadamente 250,000 estadios.

Consiguiendo de manera ingeniosa con la astronomía y la geometría medir la circunferencia de nuestro planeta.

[wavewrought]

playing da:tv having a fun little time

[bocadosdefilosofia]

«Y, aun así, llevaban pegados a tres o cuatro admiradores, que no eran más que obreros, al menos en el alma, y ni siquiera educados en los conocimientos primarios. Terrible es, sí, y engañosa esta sabiduría de relumbrón que, entre profanos, no retrocede ante nada y se arriesga irreflexivamente a todo. Pues, ¿qué cosa podría haber más atrevida que la ignorancia? Cuando me encuentro con tales pedantes, zánganos que ni prestan oídos ni aspiran a los dictados de la razón, abomino de este género de hombres y no encuentro otro motivo para esa forma de vida suya que el hecho de que, sin educación previa y antes de tiempo, desde un principio se les haya considerado, seguramente por otros iguales que ellos, dignos de enseñanzas superiores.»

Sinesio de Cirene: Cartas. Editorial Gredos, págs. 272-273. Madrid, 1995.

TGO

@bocadosdefilosofia

@dias-de-la-ira-1

[se1unite]

ok i had fun creating a character so i am downloading datv and its the first time in a long time that i'm going into a game completely blind!! i only know there's a guy with horns??

[faerunsbest]

You have me STILL thinking about Coren catching Rolan staring at her butt from a mirror. He doesn't realize how long he hasn't moved, cooking it with his gaze while pondering 5 different ways to eat pound cake. When she catches him, it's an immediate turn on & her tail just goes right up. Now he's flustered bc that's basically a public peep show, then panicked bc what is she looking at that turned her on so much to do that in public so he looks up to find what's she looking at only to make eye contact in the mirror as he slowly realizes she's noticed him gawking at her in absolute depravity and it's HIM that made her like that in front of God & everyone.

It's the best if they haven't confessed and aren't in a relationship yet because HOT DIGGITY

Boy has NO LOGICAL REASON FOR THAT ACTIVITY THAT MILE LONG STARE

Let him get flustered and clumsy and accidentally knock shit over and helpful sweet ciren can go pick it up

>:]

[sciatu]

LA VARA DI MESSINA – TERZA ED ULTIMA PARTE: PERCHE’? – I devoti si preparano ad un altro strappo. Dovranno farne pochi altri prima di far girare la Vara e portarla da Corso Garibaldi nella quasi perpendicolare via I Settembre. Per la virata della Vara, dispiegheranno le corde per la loro lunghezza e il Capotimoniere li guiderà nella svolta sulla base della sua esperienza. È un punto critico quello della svolta, dove in passato la Vara si è anche ribaltata provocando il ferimento delle comparse e dei bambini che su di essa raffiguravano gli angeli. Per questo, dalla fine del 1800 solo il vescovo e il timoniere della Vara possono stare su di essa. I fischietti incominciano a squillare e i devoti si allineano e si curvano sulla grossa gomena. Si parte di nuovo, ancora una volta. La Vara li segue docile e scivola sulla strada bagnata senza alcun intoppo, seguita dai devoti che non tirano e dal resto della popolazione che l’aveva attesa sul bordo dei marciapiedi. L’accompagneranno così fino di fronte al Duomo. A quel punto le gomene saranno tagliate e ogni Devoto riceverà un pezzo di corda, unica ricompensa per la sua fatica. A vedere la stanchezza dei Devoti quando la strada per la conclusione dei tiri e ancora lunga e sempre più faticosa, ci si chiede perché lo facciano. Perché si impegnano in una estenuante giornata di terribile fatica e non si limitino ad una semplice preghiera, ad un silenzioso attimo di spiritualità. Vi sono moltissime risposte per questa domanda. Risposte culturali, storiche, sociali, religiose ed individuali. L’affidamento al popolo della Vara da parte della chiesa che diventa quasi spettatore marginale dell’evento, affidamento che è comune a tutte le grandi feste siciliane da quella grandissima di Sant’Agata a Catania, a Santa Rosalia, ad i Misteri di Trapani o al Cristo Morto di Enna, implica un rapporto diretto ed individuale dei vari devoti o dei membri delle varie confraternite che quel simulacro Santo e carismatico ricevono. Oltre quindi all’appartenenza ad un gruppo, ad una identità, ad una località, vi è la spiritualità della sofferenza, della fatica, del dolore che ogni devoto prova nel trascinare, sollevare, portare l’oggetto che è unione tra lui e la santità. È la stessa sofferenza, dolore, fatica che i siciliani provano a vivere in una terra dove l’acqua può diventare un lusso, dove il fuoco può scendere dal monte a distruggere, dove la terra, in un istante, si può scollare di dosso case, città e paesi intieri. Sono le stesse sensazioni di chi lascia la Sicilia, di chi si trova in altre terre per diventarne ricchezza e forza. È la spiritualità di chi non ha nulla, quella degli operai, delle madri, dei disoccupati, dei carcerati e di chi pur avendo riconosce che il valore di quanto ha è in difetto, perché è altro quello che conta e che segna la vita. È la spiritualità di chi prega con il sudore, di chi si umilia nella fatica, di chi offre il meglio di quanto è nel silenzio, nella dedizione assoluta. È la spiritualità del buon ladrone che si pente, di Simone da Cirene che porta la croce al posto del Cristo, del buon Samaritano che aiuta uno sconosciuto di un'altra fede. È una spiritualità che richiede forza, coraggio, abbandono di se stessi per seguire quello in cui si crede.

THE VARA OF MESSINA – THIRD AND FINAL PART: WHY? – The devotees prepare for another pull. They will have to make a few more before turning the Vara and taking it from Corso Garibaldi to the almost perpendicular Via I Settembre. To turn the Vara, they will unfold the ropes to their full length and the Chief Helmsman will guide them in the turn based on his experience. The turn is a critical point, where in the past the Vara has also capsized, causing injuries to the extras and children who were portraying angels on it. For this reason, since the end of the 19th century only the bishop and the helmsman of the Vara can stay on it. The whistles begin to sound and the devotees line up and bend over the large hawser. They set off again, once again. The Vara follows them docilely and slides on the wet road without any hitches, followed by the devotees who do not pull and by the rest of the population who had waited for her on the edge of the sidewalks. They will accompany her in this way up to the front of the Cathedral. At that point the ropes will be cut and each Devotee will receive a piece of rope, the only reward for his or her effort. Seeing the tiredness of the Devotees when the road to the conclusion of the pulls is still long and increasingly tiring, one wonders why they do it. Why they commit themselves to an exhausting day of terrible toil and do not limit themselves to a simple prayer, to a silent moment of spirituality. There are many answers to this question. Cultural, historical, social, religious and individual answers. The entrustment of the Vara to the people by the church that becomes almost a marginal spectator of the event, an entrustment that is common to all the great Sicilian celebrations from the very great one of Sant’Agata in Catania, to Santa Rosalia, to the Mysteries of Trapani or to the Dead Christ of Enna, implies a direct and individual relationship of the various devotees or members of the various brotherhoods that receive that Holy and charismatic simulacrum. In addition to belonging to a group, to an identity, to a location, there is the spirituality of suffering, of fatigue, of pain that each devotee feels in dragging, lifting, carrying the object that is the union between him and sanctity. It is the same suffering, pain, fatigue that Sicilians feel in living in a land where water can become a luxury, where fire can descend from the mountain to destroy, where the earth, in an instant, can peel off houses, cities and entire towns. They are the same sensations of those who leave Sicily, of those who find themselves in other lands to become wealth and strength. It is the spirituality of those who have nothing, of workers, mothers, the unemployed, prisoners and of those who, despite having, recognize that the value of what they have is lacking, because it is something else that counts and marks life. It is the spirituality of those who pray with sweat, of those who humble themselves in fatigue, of those who offer the best of what they have in silence, in absolute dedication. It is the spirituality of the good thief who repents, of Simon of Cyrene who carries the cross in place of Christ, of the good Samaritan who helps a stranger of another faith. It is a spirituality that requires strength, courage, abandonment of oneself to follow what one believes in.

[justthehopeleft]

Happy WBW! Do you have a world that you really haven't gotten the chance to talk about? Ramble on!

ramble, you say? my favorite! (this got long. it’s, uh, worldbuilding. history 😌)

Astoria, once regarded as a minor world settled by Tarraen explorers, came to the forefront of galactic politics with the establishment of the Astorian Empire. While not as prominent as Falirn or Astateis-B, several key members of the Imperial government have become major players in inter-world affairs.

The rising prominence of Astoria has led to new interest in Astorian history, and due to profound effort in recording in many majors Houses of Astoria, much of the world’s timeline has been able to be studied, including its most prominent wars.

anyway. welcome in. i’m yapping about the war of the sisters

Half of historians (more or less) count the War of the Sisters as the worst war in Astorian history. The rest believe it was the Thousand Year’s War, but that has faded in prominence over time. Much of the War of the Sisters and the Three Kingdoms Era is still key in cultural memory, and the devastation that occured still impacts the world.

have you ever wondered what would’ve happened if ‘king lear’ went wrong? me too let’s go

Old king (his name was Ciren but we don’t give a fuck) dies without naming his heir. He’s got three daughters, they all want the throne for various reasons. The council agrees to split the kingdom to keep the peace.

Galia moves to Ierrosan, a city in the east, and takes that as her capital. The eastern third of the kingdom becomes hers. Historians call it the Kingdom of the Night (because Galia was a goth baddie and that’s what she called it). She styled herself as the Night Queen and chose a star-studded black sky as her banner.

Imryll moves to Riamh, up north by northwest, and takes that third of her kingdom. Hers gets called the True Kingdom, which pisses a lot of people off, and so it gets renamed the Kingdom of the Sun. Imryll uses no title, but her followers call her the Gentle Queen. Her banners were as gold as the sunrise, and Riamh’s walls were built high and strong against threats.

The last sister was Dirue. She remained in Atouelle and kept it as her capital, and her kingdom was called the New Astoria. Dirue was the White Queen to her followers, but history had other epithets for her. The New Astoria rose strong and mighty, pure white banners elegant in the wind, and a tense peace settled over the three kingdoms.

Fifteen years passed, and the kingdoms grew and spread. Imryll kept her people safe in the ancient parts of the land, Galia reigned in extravagance, and Dirue built. The people prospered, prayed, and lived.

As her sword, Dirue took a man named Ise. He served as her right-hand man and her closest advisor, and though history may forget, he was utterly devoted and loyal to his queen.

(Ise is also a wife guy he loves his wife so so so much that’s very important. he loves his wife and his lil daughter so much :))) but ofc he is a Job Guy who does his Job. and his Job is do whatever Dirue says.)

okay it’s been fifteen years, we’ve met Mr Wife Guy Doing His Job. yeah. okay. what now

One quiet morning in the Kingdom of the Night, an army marched through the land, banners waving white and clean. Within a month, the kingdom was burnt, its people imprisoned or executed or sent to live in the New Astoria. The banners still hung proudly white and unblemished, but the armies of the White Queen were not so clean and guiltless. The kingdom had fallen, and as punishment for her attempts to fight back against Dirue, Galia was executed.

The Kingdom of the Night had struck against the New Astoria, and for that crime, the New Astoria had destroyed it. Ierrosan stood no more, its people sent under careful guard to join those of the White Queen. History records many contemporary attempts at justifying the attacks, but most modern studies agree that the White Queen attacked for her own gain.

Dirue, the White Queen, sought nothing more than control, and had no greater desire than to take all Astoria for herself. The Kingdom of the Night became hers, and the New Astoria grew.

In those ancient parts of the land where the Holy Truth rests beneath Riamh and the First Cathedral still stands at Epriket, Imryll and the Kingdom of the Sun built up their walls ever stronger. Their guards stood watch, keeping against both the threat of Dirue and threats from the unconquered reaches to the north. Peace remained there in those ancient places, but every moment might have been the last. Tension simmered, an ever-present string pulled too tightly, and no one could bear to breathe.

Dirue, the White Queen, with Ise at her side, marched against her sister within the month. Records do not capture much of their exact movement, but many sources indicate that Imryll gathered her people within Riamh’s great walls, hoping to protect them from the scourge of Dirue’s armies over the land.

On a solemn, silent night, when the priests of Tores burned their Streosen Prayers and all the world waited with bated breath for the peace promised by the gods on such a holy night, the White Queen visited that holiest of places, the First Cathedral of Epriket. Dirue, with Ise following behind, prayed at the cathedral, the priests unable to keep her out. Ise’s own records indicate that the Prayer was burned for them that night in the Holiest Of Places.

Before the dawn, Riamh had been razed to the ground.

The siege of Riamh, although not technically a siege, was led largely by Ise while the White Queen watched from afar. Its grand walls were burnt, its queen trapped in her humble palace, and its people were slaughtered. The blood spilled that sacred night poured like rivers through that holy land, and the White Queen ruled unquestioned.

The New Astoria was established. The White Queen—white as ash, white as bone, white as death—forged her crown from the shattered remnants of her sisters’ crowns. Imryll was assassinated in her prison of a palace the next night, and it would not be discovered until weeks later that Ise had been responsible, following the orders of his Queen.

The personal record kept by Ise notes that he gained heavy injuries when he killed Imryll, which are known to have left him with permanent damage in both arms, for which he later required prosthetics. For three weeks after the fall of Riamh, he recovered in Atouelle, and here his records change in tone. No longer could he support Dirue, not after Riamh. Not after the slaughters that horrible night.

The people of Atouelle, it should be noted, felt the same. The white palace was ensieged, and the people rose up against the Queen. Accounts of the day state that Dirue, hearing the riots, went to the grand throne room to receive the populace—and, as was her nature, have them killed. Those still loyal to her were about to begin their bloodshed when one final sword was unsheathed, and one trembling arm cut more surely than it ever had before.

For the first and only time, the pristine white robes of the White Queen were stained with blood. It was not the blood of the countless thousands she had killed, but her own blood.

On that Day of Glory, the White Queen’s reign of terror was cut short by her former commander, Ise. He was nominated to be the next King, but refused the office, instead aiding in the establishment of a republic for Astoria. Imryll and Galia were buried in state in the center of Atouelle, and Dirue was set between them, the center of a grand and most solemn monument. Each wall was carved with the name of a person killed in the terrible war, carefully etched into stone to be remembered for eternity.

If one visits Astoria now, that monument can still be seen, and one can trace over countless names in unyielding marble. One name sits heavier than the rest, though—Dirue, the Terrible Queen.

anyway. yeah. war of the sisters! it’s a pretty somber piece of astorian history but it definitely has a really major impact on the world. have i gotten to talk about it much? no but i do have a four-part story from ise’s pov about the fall of the white queen. good shit right there i should share it sometime tbh

[mitosenespanol]

El origen mítico de la ciudad de Cirene

Cirene era una joven que rechazó las actividades propias de las mujeres; en lugar de hilar y tejer, prefería salir de noche a cazar animales salvajes. Sus padres Hipseo y Creúsa abrazaron la decisión de su hija al darse cuenta de su gran talento para la caza y el combate. 

En una ocasión, Cirene participó en unos juegos fúnebres dedicados a Pelias, rey de Yolco. Tras resultar victoriosa en todas las competiciones, fue premiada con dos perros de caza. El responsable de entregar los premios fue el dios Apolo, que ya había quedado impresionado por su fuerza física y, ahora, por su belleza.

Apolo se volvió a encontrar a Cirene; la vio guardar el ganado de su padre Hipseo. Al contemplarla desde la lejanía, pensó que podría raptarla y hacerla su esposa. Finalmente tomó la decisión en una tercera ocasión en la que la vio luchar contra un fiero león. Como siempre, resultó victoriosa. El centauro Quirón, quien también fue testigo de la escena, soltó una carcajada cuando Apolo lo cuestiono “¿Crees que ella podría ser una buena esposa para mí?”. Fuera sí o no la respuesta, de todas formas, la mujer sería raptada por el dios. 

Cirene fue tomada por el dios y llevada a la tierra más fértil del mundo griego, Libia, en la planicie de una reverdecida isla. Se le construyó un palacio de oro y Apolo yació con ella en una cama hecha del mismo material dorado, tras haber recibido el beneplácito de Afrodita. En el lecho de amor, Apolo le prometió longevidad y el gobierno de su propia ciudad, ideal para cazar y criar ganado. Dicha ciudad fue Cirene, nombrada así en honor a ella misma.

Al poco tiempo Cirene quedó embarazada y dio a luz, con Hermes como partero, a Aristeo. Más tarde tuvo al vidente Idmón y, en una ocasión que yació con Ares, procreó al gigante Diomedes.

www.mitosenespanol.tumblr.com

Créditos de las imágenes aquí y aquí.

Lee mitos coreanos aquí.

Lee mitos japoneses aquí.

Conoce sobre los símbolos del Tarot aquí.

[kitthenameless]

I finished my BG3 "Worst Selves" run with a tav (Ciren) who was very manipulative and self-serving and liked getting close to people with power. I'd done an evil run before, but this was my first time with Ascended Astarion, Sharran Shadowheart, and Vlaakith-Loyal Lae'zel (all of which had such dark and disturbing scenes). Also my first time letting Wyll kill Karlach and giving the crown to Raphael.

Ciren isn't much of a fighter (modded College of Eloquence bard, with one level of draconic sorcerer using fire magic), but with 24 charisma and proficiency/expertise in persuasion, performance, and deception, he can make almost anyone believe or do almost anything. He even got Lorroakan's projection to pay him taxes. (And that's without gear, he could've had even more if the game allowed it.) I'd never played such a high charisma character before, it was fun!

Wyll was the disappointed dad of the group.

Poor Jaheira's to-do list just kept getting longer and longer.

As for romance, Ciren quickly decided a vampire (even a spawn) and a god's chosen wizard would be the most potentially powerful people and started seducing them both. Upon further revelations, he chose Astarion. But then Ciren didn't want to become a spawn himself, so he broke that off and set his sights higher... or lower, so to speak.

He made a deal with Raphael with his own plans to seduce the devil upon handing over the crown, because a king of hell sounds pretty powerful. And I think they've both met their match in terms of manipulation. And they're both awful. And they both enjoy having sex with Haarlep while he looks like them. (Meanwhile, I'm terrified of Haarlep now that I've seen that scene, including the game over option.) Should be an interesting relationship lol. Anyway, Ciren truly doesn't want to be the one in charge, he just wants to look pretty and manipulate people and live in decadence, so I think he's going to make a great consort to the King of Hell!

Maybe I should've waited for photo mode, but I am impatient. Also, Ciren is still besties with Astarion, even though they broke up. (Even though they're both evil, I'm legit glad they can stay friends lol.) Also also, I love that Raphael's ending is a whole ass dramatic monologue with camera angle changes and everything.

And that's it! Well, that's it for the stuff worth mentioning. I mostly skipped combat with mods, but I saw quite a bit of new content, since I actually made some different decisions this time 😅 It's still wild to me how many different reactions and dialogues and whatnot there are in this game.

Ok one more pic because I had fun playing dress-up, and Ciren's Wavemother Robe + Woe look was on point ✨

Mods: Some Heads For Bodytype 2. Horns of Faerun. Scantily Camp Outfit. Allandra's Makeup and Tattoos. Colorful Woe. Better Raphael Outfits. Happy facial expressions for Ascended Astarion kisses (for that look in the 2nd pic lol). Idk where earrings or boots are from.

[une-sanz-pluis]

A Complaint for My Lady of Gloucester and Holland

Although the “Complaint” is focused on Jacqueline and includes a potentially subversive chorus of grieving women in support of her, Eleanor makes an oblique and threatening appearance about halfway through […] This characterization of Eleanor persists for several more stanzas, referring to “fals Circes,” and “cirens,” whose “fals incantacyouns” and “fals medecynes … / þe prynces hert agaynst al lawe / Frome his promesse his hande to drawe.” Although Eleanor was only publicly accused of witchcraft in 1441, these references in a poem generally dated to 1428 suggest that her reputation preceded that. Eleanor’s position at the heart of an adulterous (and possibly bigamous) love triangle also linked her—as it linked legendary adulteresses like Guenevere and Iseult—to witchcraft, in sharp contrast to Jacqueline, the “goodely fayre pryncesse” for whom “yong and olde [cry] in oone.” A transgression in one realm, one might say, opens a door to transgressions elsewhere. Striking too is the nature of the enchantment, that of the “chaunteresse” or “Ciren.” Although the references to mermaids and “courage serpentyne” may also recall the half-snake figure of Mélusine, the fairy ancestress of the counts of Lusignan, the repetition of “songe” and constant emphasis on voice locate Eleanor’s power elsewhere, a theme to which later depictions of her will return. —Kavita Mudan Finn, “Tragedy, Transgression, and Women’s Voices: The cases of Margaret of Anjou and Eleanor Cobham,” Viator 47.2 (2016).

John William Waterhouse (1900), A Mermaid | John Collier (1886), Lilith With A Snake | John William Waterhouse (1892), Circe Invidiosa | Herbert James Draper (1909), Ulysses and the Sirens | Luis Ricardo Falero (1880), The Witches Sabbith

[wavewrought]

me and my clique at the mushroom rave

[bocadosdefilosofia]

“Bien, pero es que claro está yo —dijo Aristipo— no me apunto tampoco para la esclavitud, sino que me parece que hay entre ésos como un camino medio, que es por el que intento yo guiar mis pasos, sin pasar ni por el mando ni por la servidumbre, sino por la libertad, que es la que más a la felicidad derecha lleva.” “¡Ah, ya! —dijo Sócrates—: si, lo mismo que el camino ese no pasa ni por el mando ni por la servidumbre, así tampoco pasa por entre los hombres, puede que tengas razón en eso; pero si es que, estando entre los hombres, no tienes a bien mandar ni ser mandado ni tampoco rendir a los que mandan pleitesía, bien sé que habrás de ver cómo los fuertes saben medios para, haciéndoles a los débiles mascar su pena, así en las relaciones entre pueblos como entre personas, servirse de ellos como esclavos. ¿O es que no tienes tú noticia de aquellos que, cuando otros han sembrado y han plantado, se dedican a arrasar los trigos y a talarles los planteles y a asediar por todas las maneras a los débiles que se negaban a servirles, hasta el punto de que los persuaden de querer mejor hacerse esclavos que tener guerra con los poderosos? Y asimismo entre personas, los valientes y poderosos, ¿no sabes cómo someten a servidumbre a los cobardes y desvalidos y se aprovechan de ellos?” “Bien, pues es precisamente —contestó él—, para no pasar por eso, que tampoco me encierro en comunidad alguna, sino que soy en todas partes forastero”.

Jenofonte: Recuerdos de Sócrates. Salvat Editores /Alianza Editorial, pág. 51. Madrid, 1971.

TGO

@bocadosdefilosofia

@dias-de-la-ira-1

[vento-del-nord]

Mi chiedi con quanti baci, Lesbia,

tu possa giungere a saziarmi:

quanti sono i granelli di sabbia

che a Cirene assediano i filari di silfio

tra l'oracolo arroventato di Giove

e l'urna sacra dell'antico Batto,

o quante, nel silenzio della notte, le stelle

che vegliano i nostri amori furtivi.

Se tu mi baci con così tanti baci

che i curiosi non possano contarli

o le malelingue gettarvi una malia,

allora si placherà il delirio di Catullo.

Catullo

[whencyclopedes]

Puerta de Ishtar

La puerta de Ishtar fue construida por el rey babilonio Nabucodonosor II, alrededor del 575 a.C. Fue la octava puerta de la ciudad de Babilonia (actualmente, Irak), y la entrada principal de la ciudad. La puerta de Ishtar fue parte del plan de Nabucodonosor para embellecer la capital de su imperio, asimismo, durante la primera mitad del siglo VI a.C. también restauró el templo de Marduk, y se construyó la célebre maravilla que constituyen los jardines colgantes, como parte de su plan. La magnificencia de la puerta de Ishtar fue tan reconocida que fue parte de la lista inicial de las siete maravillas del mundo antiguo. Sin embargo, posteriormente fue sustituida por el faro de Alejandría, aunque algunos autores (Antípatro de Sidón y Calímaco de Cirene) escribieron que las puertas de Ishtar y los muros de Babilonia deberían seguir considerándose como parte de las maravillas.

Sigue leyendo...