#Elysium sanctum

[safrona-shadowsun]

{Excerpt from some ongoing rp with @duraxxor that we laughed at ;))

Plop.

The old fisherman had taken notice of the new arrival to the Tavern of the Mists, given him a long stare, then returned to his cast of his fishing line, content to watch his little cat-shapped bobber make ripples in the water. The younger Pandaren on the porch took longer notice at the crimson clad visitor, stopping mid-beat of a welcome rug. He turned to briefly yell inside the tavern in preparation. “Ah, new visitor! Put on more tea!”

The masked stranger watched carefully as the local folk didn't seem to mind even his appearance the slightest. Of course, who really could with the variety of people that came in and out of this remote area of Pandaria? There was a twinkle in his singular eye as the young one made a note to start new tea for him.

Duraxxor's voice picked up smoothly as he said, " I appreciate the hospitality but I seek the one you may call the Courier, Safrona Shadowsun. Have you seen her?

No eyelash was batted, no stare was given beyond the welcoming one the young Pandaren gave as he nodded indelibly, before stopping mid nod, and cocking his head with performative thoughtfulness. “I may, I maaaaay, traveller,” he spoke, stroking an imaginary beard as he ‘mused’.

He then grinned and in a most striking impersonation of Illidan Stormrage, boomed, “You are not prepared!” A packaged bean bun was suddenly tossed, and hip bumped to Duraxxor. “Now you are prepared! Maybe!” he stated with a full belly laugh. “What do I call you?"

There was a stiffness about Duraxxor in that moment as the child approached with his impersonating banter. That singular eye winced a bit, giving signs that beneath the masquerade was a smile. " You know, that was pretty good, young one. "

With an idle bending, he knelt down and procured the bean bun, softly opening it to apply it just beneath the mask. " I am a man of many names, but I wonder... what is it you wish to call me, friend? "

After finishing his statement, the bun vanished from sight, almost as if it were immediately consumed into the void itself.

The Pandaren blinked at the magically vanishing beanbun and then guffawed. "MagicMan! That is what I will call you!"

He leaned forward in a cartoonishly bold gesture, animatedly speaking with the cadence of a Southshore Pirate now: "Or do I call ye "HungryMan, lad?"

The masked stranger rubbed his protected chin in thought. Magicman or Hungryman? Hmmmm. Those were certainly traits that he possessed outside of what was best described as his identity.

This child was quite entertaining.

" Hungry Magic? Mungryman? " It seemed he was willing to play along with the vivid imagination this Pandaren had.

" Ahoy lad, there's treasure to be had. The Courier be hiding the stash of Rum on her flagship! " His own pirate came out in him, swinging his arm in his own cartoonish nature.

The boy had another hearty laugh for “Mungryman” as he started up the misty path from the humble tavern, pausing a moment to let his company catch up.

“She be doin’ no hidin’ of anyting, mon,” he smoothly shifted to another syntax, perfectly emulating the often musical accent of the Zandalari, or another tribe of troll.

“De lady be generous to dem who prove dey wort’, eh?” He then hunched over and stretched out his arm, pointed 3 furry fingers in Dura's direction, much how a troll might point.

“Ya be nice, don't make trouble when y'step inta her parlor, she may be givin’ ya a taste o’ de Rum, or any nectar ya like.”

A wide grin, and the Pandaren stepped into a swirl of mist that seemed to enshroud him.

“But de first test? Dat be gettin’ up de mountain to ‘er in de first place! Hah!”

And with that, the mist seemed to take Seon away, disappearing entirely.

The following of this strange Mungryman was fluid in steps. It was as if he were a bit of a shadow attached to the boy's back. He stared through his masquerade, finding the child to be intriguing with his own impersonations. What a coincidence, he was quite the impersonator himself. But to see this child going from pirate to Zandalari was quite the feat.

"Hmmmmmm. You seem to know the lady quite well. And dare I say, that is good to hear. " He bowed his head, feeling as though the truth of the matter was coming out and when Seon disappeared and made it a note to tell Mungryman that he was needing to journey up the mountain. A dramatic pause was offered before he howled out in laughter.

" Hahahahahah! Good show! Welp.. it seems it's time I made my way up the mountain then. I suppose I should not be surprised... "

And so, Mungryman went on his way up the first elevation in his step.

In the absence of his young host, the cold fog of the Veiled Stair seemed sharper, cloudier, inhospitable. It obscured Dura's path, directionless, a mist buffetting what seemed a stalking intruder rather than the invited.

Foreign noises haunted the cold mountain fog, threatening to lead him to a steep drop, should it see fit to lead a monster astray. Some percussive beat could be heard around him, alike a wardrum, and a voice boomed from that pattern heartbeat: a gravelly, strong voice of a famous orc Shaman.

"You stalk the elements like a hunter, but seek to sit at the table as a guest? If you think for a moment to draw blood, you will want to turn back here and now. You will not find what you want."

As playful as his host had been, clearly this 'game' was dead serious in delivery. The "Courier" was well-protected.

When the voice of a shaman made a note to call him out on how it is he approached, there was a pause in his step. Duraxxor's senses arose from their depths and began to pinpoint where the voice was at least coming from to some degree. For every sound had an echoing source.

However, considering that the orc was not directly attacking him, he ceased going on the offensive. His stance loosened and his head tilted to the side.

"Sharp eyes and rightfully so. However, I did not come to battle or to commit violence. I have come seeking an audience to exchange words and perhaps even an apology for an error, so to speak.

" His sincerity shown, possessing a calm that the mist itself could often bring another. But the Lord would not leave it at that.

". . . I will only continue if allowed. But if I am denied, then I will discontinue wasting everyone's time. "

The 'orc's voice could not be pinpointed from one source, awash on waves of mist that slipped from all directions of the obscuring fog.

"The elements judge you, and find you wanting..." the voice boomed again, and some crackle of jade lightning cascaded from the right, then left of Dura's periphery.

And then ...the mist cleared for the large ball of fur that rolled out before him, perfectly balanced in a martial pose that imitated a dragon. Just as it seemed the young Pandaren might strike, he shifted to a slumping casual stance and shrugged.

"--Wanting a drink probably! Hah! Okay, yeah buddy, you're clear!"

Seon laughed as the mountain mists further cleared for a pair of intricately carved gates, topped with the regal wooden heads of cloud dragons. Beyond that, a neatly curated garden cut an entrance way for a traditional Pandaren retreat.

"It's been real, Mungryman. Just, y'know. Don't bring in any weapons or cast offensives or other funny business, or they'll throw you off the mountain."

Seon bowed, both paws clasped in front of him in a prayer-like pose, then switched one of his hands to deliver a sideways peace sign. "PEACE BRO."

And again, the mysterious young Pandaren seemed to be enveloped in mist, disappearing from sight.

Duraxxor, aka Mungryman, had passed the test, and the Elysium Sanctum awaited.

[raurquiz]

#happybirthday #neiltennant #singer @petshopboys #petshopboys #actually #please #introspective #very #behavior #release #nightlife #bilingual #electric #hotspot #super #yes #fundamental #elysium #innersanctum #pandemonium #discography #popart #disco #essential #christmas

[thepopkids]

Fuck it, Rina's top 3 from every Pet Shop Boys album (as if anyone cares)

Please

Opportunities Love Comes Quickly I Want a Lover

Actually

It Couldn't Happen Here (most beautiful song ever) Hit Music Kings Cross

introspective

Left to My Own Devices I Want a Dog It's Alright

behaviour

Being Boring Jealousy (most beautiful song ever part 2) So Hard

relentless

My Head is Spinning Forever in Love KDX 125

very

Can You Forgive Her? I Wouldn't Normally Do This Kind of Thing (my favourite psb mv) A Different Point of View

bilingual

Discoteca Paninaro Electricity

nightlife

New York City Boy (my beloved) Radiophonic I Don't Know What You Want but I Can't Give It Any More

release

We're The Pet Shop Boys Here In Private (don't make me choose between dusty's version and the elton and psb version bc i'd rather be shot)

fundamental

I'm With Stupid Numb Minimal

yes

Did You See Me Coming? Vulnerable More Than A Dream

elysium

Leaving (most beautiful song ever part 3) Ego Music Everything Means Something

electric

Fluorescent Vocal Thursday

super

Groovy Inner Sanctum Into Thin Air

hotspot

Monkey Business (i didn't understand her at first, but now she's the loml) Will o' the wisp Dreamland

Nonetheless

A New Bohemia (most beautiful so-) Love is the law Why am I dancing?

Singles

Sense of Time, Party in the Blitz, Flamboyant, what are we gonna do about the rich?, Everybody will dance, It's not a crime

Honourable mentions: Purple Zone (Soft Cell), Brick England (Jean Michel Jarre), Subculture (Stop Modernists), Disappointed (Electronic), Tranquilizer (Superchumbo)

[dujour13]

Owlcatober 15. Healing

An early relationship moment - added to The Lark and the Crow on AO3

CW: canon-typical violence, injury, vomiting

---

Woljif felt the sweep of the hammer hoist him off his feet and send him hurtling against the wall long before any pain set in.

In fact, he probably should have been more worried about the absence of pain, and the odd, floaty feeling of not caring much about anything anymore, even the curious fact that his lungs refused to inflate. Just lying here on the floor of the Ivory Sanctum, looking at the pretty lights. The ache was distant, like at the bottom of a river he sailed tranquilly over.

Ah, there he was, the chief. Chiefs? He tried to smile as three identical images of Siavash’s face swam into view, but smiling felt like too much work.

The chief’s lips were moving. He was agitated, glancing over his shoulder, gesturing urgently, and if his mouth didn’t feel so comfortably lazy Woljif would have told him not to get himself all worked up. Just having a little lie-down. The chief yelled something right at him, and then again more frantically, but his voice could not be heard over the thundering of temple bells in his ears.

And then Siavash did one of those Elysian things where his eyes shot full of rainbows like the crystals in the window of old Fyllemen’s when the sun hit them. It made Woljif’s eyes water how radiant he became sometimes, like his mortal body was no more than the shell of some being of pure sunshine. He wanted to tell him to tone it down a notch. In the beams of light danced tiny motes of pollen or magic or maybe Aivu’s wing scales, settling softly over Woljif’s body like snowflakes.

Rapidly the warm sensation in his gut began to heat up, from soft and floaty to a boiling intensity a lot like pain, only to wash out again until he lay baking like a beach at low tide in the full heat of the sun, and then suddenly he was wide awake and vomiting.

No mistaking that sensation. His torso radiating like a furnace. The searing friction of tissue and sinew working their way together again. The deep pressure-ache of bone recalcifying in his ribs and sternum. His heart stuttering as it picked up where it left off. Blood flooding through re-knit vessels.

But what his dazed mind clung to was the arm across his shoulders, gently easing him back when he finished emptying his stomach. The metal lip of a canteen was pressed to his mouth so that he could sip, cool water washing away some of the terrible heat of healing.

Woljif squeezed his eyes shut until the room stopped spinning. When he opened them again there was the chief, just one of him now, pale as a ghost, staring intently into his face and speaking in some strange extraplanar language that only gradually resolved into Taldane.

“…here and take a breather.”

“I’m beginning to feel redundant,” Daeran remarked, face hovering into view wearing that expression Woljif knew all too well: the corners of his lips pinched in irritation at being roused from indolence to draw on his oracular energies because somebody carelessly got himself clobbered.

Siavash sat back on his haunches, eyes not leaving Woljif’s face for a second. “I didn’t even know I had that in me.”

Daeran tucked a lock behind his ear and smirked. “To be in love is to surpass oneself,” he quoted airily.

He must really have taken a blow to the head, because as the others secured their rest spot in the cultists’ barracks Woljif could only sit propped on a bunk and stare stupidly, hypnotized by the figure of the chief as he moved about surrounded by a fuzzy glow like misty dawn. How could this be real?

Scarcely three months ago he was lost in the Worldwound thinking he deserved to die alone. Now he had people—and not just any people—leaping to his rescue, miraculously channeling the power of Elysium for little old him, and holding him while he threw up?

Even more improbably, here was Woljif Jefto taking a minotaur’s warhammer to the gut instead of getting the hells out of here as fast as his feet could carry him.

What would it take to make me scarper again? he wondered. There it was just under his skin, the old itch, the shadow, urging him to save his own hide.

—but the shadow was blasted away by the chief’s radiance as he settled next to Woljif and tipped his shoulder gently into his. What toff nonsense had Daeran come out with just now? To be in love is to surpass oneself? Like sticking around taking a minotaur’s hammer to the gut, yeah. I didn’t know I had that in me either. Does that mean this is—?

As he pondered he suddenly felt warm fingers slip into his palm and rest there, and all his insides turned into a sweet, achy puddle flooding all the way up from his groin and across his chest so he almost forgot to breathe again. After the moment of surprise passed he closed his hand gently around Siavash’s. And tried to act normal.

“How are you feeling?”

“I got a little pain right here if you wanna hit me up.” Woljif held up an elbow jokingly, but much to his embarrassment Siavash brought it to his lips and smooched it. He pulled it away with a sheepish smirk.

“You scared me there.” Siavash’s eyes had returned to their comfortable hazel, shaded with worry.

“Yeah, me too.” As Woljif searched his face—that kind, handsome face so full of concern—he felt it welling up again, an ache much older and deeper than the blow of a demon’s hammer. The shame. The wrongness of this. How could someone like Siavash look into yellow demonic eyes and see anything worth worrying about? The thief who took him for a rube, the coward who ditched him at the first sign of trouble. He felt an urge to sneak away into the shadows alone and steal something cold and shiny he could easily grasp—something less confusing than this. A cold shadow fell across his heart. His gaze wavered and fell. The words poured out in a pained whisper before his mushed-up brains could stop them: “Siavash, why—why do you care? Why do you trust me?”

Siavash held his gaze gently as if cupped in his hands, not letting his eyes drop again. “I like you. I want to.”

“I guess you’re crazy like that, chief. You let a succubus join the team. You even let Nurah go after she blew up half the crusade. I just hope that doesn’t come back to bite you.”

“With them it’s more of a gamble than with you,” Siavash winked. “I don’t claim to see into people’s hearts, Woljif, but yours is less hidden than you think, to those who pay attention.”

“But I don’t get why you pay attention. Nobody ever bothered. I even gave you reason not to.”

“You would have to be a lot more convincing than that if you wanted to put me off. In case you didn’t notice, I have a desperate crush on you. I love everything about you.”

Woljif took a sharp breath. He what?

His expression must have betrayed the shock, because Siavash sighed. “Ah gods I always sound like I’m trying to play you. I don’t know why you trust me either.”

Woljif felt another flood of achy warmth as something deep inside that had long been broken began the slow, painful process of weaving itself back together. “Guess I’m crazy like that too.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Siavash smiled lopsidedly. “Since that’s how it is, let’s do something crazy. Let’s just trust each other. For no reason.”

He couldn’t help a little laugh. It hurt his ribs but it felt good. “Aright, chief, you’re on.”

[auburniivenus]

───✱*.｡:｡@adureus     STARTER

LET   THE   SUN   SHINE.   In   an   epoch   of   sanguinary   conflict,   desolation,   and   disintegrated   realms,   a   luminous   beacon   prevails   to   eradicate   the   stygian   gloom.   Amidst   ANARCHY,   a   sanctum   emerges   to   greet   careworn   wanderers   in   search   of   respite   and   poise.   It   was   in   this   manner   that   she   came   upon   it—a   sylvan   plateau   concealed,   anticipating   the   arrival   of   her   fatigued   physique.

The   perfume   of   ethereal   florets   permeated   the   nimbus,   their   petals   bearing   exotic   chromatiques   hitherto   unperceived   by   human   sight.   A   burnished   aureate   radiance   suffused   from   the   verdurous   heart,   bestowing   a   celestial   luminescence   upon   serpentine   trails.   Here   flourished   a   teeming   microcosm   beyond   the   realm   of   mundane   existence.

She   found   herself   MAGNETICALLY    beckoned   to   this   cloistered   asylum,   its   ingress   obscured   by   magnificent   vines   which   descended   as   a   living   curtain.   With   her   footfall   upon   the   threshold,   Orihime   surrendered   her   quotidian   life   as   it   was   supplanted   by   a   vivid   EXODUS   of   pigment   and   vibrancy   accompanied   by   the   elusive   melodies   of   cryptic   entities.   With   fascination,   she   beheld   those   singular   blossoms   that   acknowledged   her   presence   with   an   elegant   unfurling,   their   petals   enacting   a   ballet   of   pristine   grace.

Amidst   this   idyllic   foliage   she   discerned   a   figure   –   an   unfamiliar   man.   With   ignited   interest   she   approached   him   –   could   he   be   another   sojourner   drawn   towards   the   pulsating   influence   of   this   concealed   Elysium?   Exhausted   and   seeking   solace   amid   armageddon?   "Did   you   also   find   this   location   by   accident?"   A   smile   ornamented   her   cherubic   visage,   caramel   hues   contemplating   the   other.

[illusivesoul]

"In Time"

A short Vido/Zaeed story I wrote for a prompt on a discord server. And apparently its also the first fic of this ship on a Ao3 lol

Read on Ao3: "In Time"

800 words. Fluff.

.

The cargo bay in Bekenstein was still on fire. The sound of distant gunfire, exploding barrels of fuel and ammunition and the groan of dead and dying mercenaries filled the air.

Amidst the chaos of the crumbling building, 2 men clad in worn and charred blue armour with a white oval in the chest piece stood near a large container that had been cut in half. One of the men stood guard as the other pulled out several metallic cylinders from one of the broken crates inside it. 

“Not rushing you or anything, Massani, but I think it’d be in our interests to be gone by the time the fire gets here”

“I don’t know. Maybe the fire could fix that mug of yours”

“As if you’d let this precious mug get harmed”

Zaeed let out a half chuckle before throwing out a large metallic box, the numbers XLR-8 emblazoned on the side.

“That 's the one the goddamn elcor asked for. Let’s go before… wait”

“Sure thing. Take all the time you need. Get acquainted with the box. You’ll be fused to it soon enough once the flames get us”

A grunt of effort, and Zaeed threw out of the container another metallic box with a transparent lid.

“Well. Would you look at that”

"Haven't seen one of these in a long time" Zaeed said amidst grunts of effort as he removed the chunks of rubble that had fallen over the box. Inside of it, a small wooden guitar rested, carefully cushioned by some protecting foam inside the box “Let’s bolt before we get all crispy”

Santiago grabbed the box and ran with Massani towards the waiting gunship outside the building.

Later that day, the men sat around a small fire in the middle of the camp, the cold wind of the planet Sanctum making the members of the Blue Suns huddle around the electrical stoves and fires they had around, the light of the flames creating shadows that danced in the night.

"Remember what happened to the last one you had?" Vido’s coy tone evident as he sent out orders to the mercs through his omnitool.

"I bashed it over the head of that turian who was attacking you outside that shithole bar in the Citadel  Fitting that that's how I met you, by saving your ass. And you never did get me another goddamn guitar" Massani answered as he oiled and cleaned the disassembled pieces of his Jessie, the trusted gun that was always by his side.

"Well, I took you on this mission and you found a guitar. I keep my promises, Zaaed"

"Sure you do, lucky bastard"

"I'd say you were the lucky one. Look where you are now. The co leader of one of the most successful mercenary organizations in the Verge and the Terminus. And I know you're happy you saved my ass. What would you do without it?"

"I’d be enjoying a peaceful goddamn life as a farmer in Elysium, of course"

Vido planted a quick kiss on Massani’s lips, the mercenary answering it with a deeper kiss of his own.

“Why don’t you play something? For old times sake”

“‘Old times’. You’re in your 30s, shithead”

“We’re old spirits, you and me, Zaeed. That’s why we get along so well” Vido replied as he rested his head on Massani’s shoulder, his hand softly moving across the man’s brown hair “Now play something and stop being so grumpy”

Massani smiled as he grabbed the guitar. Giving a quick stroke to the chords, the sound of the instrument was carried across the camp. The thought of a human instrument being played for the first time in a world so far away from Earth wasn’t lost on him. Clearing his throat with a quick cough, the scarred fingers in Massani’s hand started moving across the guitar, the tune and sounds of the music filling the air as his eyes closed, the memories of the song he had heard so long ago coming to his mind once more.

“I can hear what you're thinkin'

All your doubts and fears

And if you look in my eyes

In time, you'll find the reason I'm here”

“And in time, all things shall pass away

In time, you may come back some day

To live once more or die once more

But in time, your time will be no more”

Vido’s eyes seemed to get lost in the distance as he heard Zaeed’s song. But Massani didn’t notice. He played his guitar, while the man he loved rested by his side, ready to face whatever challenges came their way.

Life was good. For the first time in a very long time, life was actually good.

He wondered how long it would last. 

“I can hear what you’re thinking” 

[greishawn]

Codename: Apollo

Greshawn Dane, a talented photographer passionate about uncovering hidden beauty in the ordinary, spends his days wandering through cities and countryside, capturing evocative images that tell untold stories. One fateful afternoon, while exploring an unfamiliar district, he stumbles upon an enigmatic fraternity known as Orpheus Sanctum.

“Well, I think I've seen this place a few times. Should I try it?” 

Orpheus Sanctum is a mysterious and elite fraternity, that was all the information Shawn could get. He also heard that all your secrets would be well kept if you joined there. Joining the fraternity involves earning a place through a series of challenges that test not only skill but also perception and ingenuity, appealing to Shawn's adventurous and curious nature.

“Welcome to Elysium Manor!”

Upon being accepted, Shawn adopts the codename Apollo, inspired by his connection to creativity and light. Apollo, the Greek god of the sun, music, and the arts, symbolizes Shawn’s role as a “bringer of light” through his photography—illuminating overlooked stories and crafting visual poetry from shadows. The name also reflects his belief that art, like light, can reveal truths hidden in darkness.

With his new fraternity and codename, Shawn embarks on a journey where his art becomes not just an expression but a means of exploring and preserving the world’s enigmatic beauty, unlocking secrets and weaving himself into the narrative tapestry of Orpheus Sanctum along with the other Keepers.

[herbeautifulmoon]

The protector of the sanctum's waters.

𓎟 ࣺࣹࣺࣹࣺࣹࣹࣺ𓎟 ࣺࣹࣺࣹࣺࣹࣹࣺ𓎟 ྀັ 𓎟 ࣺࣹࣺࣹࣺࣹࣹࣺ𓎟 ࣺࣹࣺࣹࣺࣹࣹࣺ𓎟 ྀັ 𓎟 ࣺࣹࣺࣹࣺࣹࣹࣺ𓎟 ࣺࣹࣺࣹࣺࣹࣹࣺ𓎟 ྀັ

Mizuki had always felt a peculiar connection to water. Streams whispered secrets to her, and lakes shimmered with an otherworldly glow whenever she approached. A quiet artist in her seaside town, she spent her days painting oceanic landscapes, unknowingly replicating scenes she had never visited. Her life seemed ordinary until one fateful night when a mysterious storm swept through.

As lightning danced across the skies, Mizuki was drawn to the ocean. The waves roared like a call she could not ignore. She stepped into the water, feeling it surge around her ankles as though it were alive. Suddenly, the storm’s energy surged through her body, and she felt herself sinking into the depths.

When Mizuki awoke, she found herself transformed. Her once-human legs had become shimmering fins, adorned with scales that reflected every hue of the sea. Her skin glowed faintly, and her hair flowed like liquid silver. She had become a Naiad, a guardian spirit of the waters. Overwhelmed yet exhilarated, she explored her newfound form, discovering that she could summon currents, communicate with aquatic life, and breathe effortlessly underwater.

Despite the beauty of her transformation, Mizuki felt out of place. She wandered through the vast ocean, searching for a purpose.

One day, while following the flow of a river in search of answers, she encountered a mysterious man clad in dark robes. His piercing gaze held an aura of knowledge and authority. He introduced himself as Lukas, a member of a secretive fraternity called Orphens Sanctum. Lukas revealed that he had been sent to find her, having sensed her awakening as a Naiad.

"Orphens Sanctum is more than a fraternity," Lukas explained. "We are the guardians of knowledge and keepers of ancient legacies, bound to protect those like you. Elysium Manor is where you belong."

Curious but cautious, Mizuki followed Lukas to the secluded hill where Elysium Manor stood. The mansion was grand yet shrouded in mystery, its towering spires piercing through the canopy of dense woods. Inside, Mizuki found herself surrounded by people from all walks of life—scholars, artists, mystics—each bearing unique gifts. She also learned of the Naiads' ancient connection to the Sanctum, as protectors of sacred waters that held powerful secrets.

[nymphofaphaea]

Hazielle was the kind of woman everyone envied—beautiful, successful, and seemingly always having the brightest smile everyone wanted. People called her the epitome of grace and luck, but behind her poised facade, she carried a weight no one saw. Something she yearned for? Always slipped through her fingers. She often felt swayed by her thoughts, leaving her hollow until the numb feelings lingered in her emotions. 

One dreary evening, after yet another thing that she always wished failed her, Hazielle stood by her window, staring into the horizon with tears streaming down her face. The sadness that clung to her felt endless. She wiped her eyes, it was heavy to leave everything for a while in here, her cafe that she built from scratch but everyone who was working with her always knew she needed some fresh air, based on her always looked down and was unstable during the works. As her heart carried the weight and had her step up with her feet, one of her workers approached her, concerned.  

“Miss Hazielle, is everything alright? Do you need anything?”  

With a soft, practised smile, Hazielle reassured them, “I’ll be fine. Just need a little time for myself. Don’t worry.”  

She walked out into the cool night, letting the city lights blur in her vision. Wandering, she stumbled upon an unfamiliar path. The usual bustle of the city seemed to fade as she was drawn to the sound of distant music—haunting and beautiful. Following the melody, she found herself at the gates of an old, ivy-covered estate, its presence both eerie and inviting.  

The sign read: Elysium Manor.

It was a place for people like her, they said. She was discovering a place, a community represented as Orpheus Sanctum. Something about the name called to her. The music wrapped around her like a comforting embrace, promising relief from the ache in her chest. Without a second thought, Hazielle pushed open the gate and stepped into the unknown.  

As Hazielle began her journey there hoping she would be able to have the peace that she always wanted, she discovered more than just ancient melodies and rituals meant to soothe the heart. She uncovered a startling truth, her fascination with the huntress goddess Artemis wasn’t just admiration—it was a reflection of herself. Like Artemis, she had been independent yet vulnerable, hunted by her emotions yet striving to protect her heart. They didn’t make her erase her feelings but taught her how to master them, like Artemis with her bow.  

Hazielle begins her lessons here, or at least she can escape from her life for a while. Enough crying and desperation about something she didn’t have. She promised, with Orpheus Sanctum she would make people proud of her once more. 

[fleetingfifth]

Alice in the Hidden Realm.

— Orpheus Sanctum

The cold weather blows its pinpricks breeze above my skin as I blow out a warm and shivering breath, creating a thin white condensation. 

It’s January and the gigantic frosty blanket still hugs the earth.

I tighten my tweed red scarf around my neck, hopefully that it will get warmer as I step toward the manor ahead—it doesn’t.

“Elysium Manor.” My fingers roam its way above the carved letters beside the door into the manor. Another condensation slips out of my lips. I take a step back, tapping the strap of my sling bag and taking a mental picture of the whole building.

This is it! This is the place where I choose to spend my precious time. And taking back to how I got here, I only have one reason to tell you; It might be the only secret I could have.

As someone from Hearts, your life can be seen by everyone.

The dignity my family has upheld for years has shaped who I am today, and everyone knows us for who we are.

The door creaks open, and a wave of warmth brushes against my frozen cheeks. 

I step inside, letting the cold disappear behind me as my eyes take in the grand hall—the towering windows framed by velvet curtains, the faint shimmer of chandeliers, and shadows dancing on polished floors. 

Everything about this place feels alive, like it’s been waiting for me.

Alice. It’s not just a codename; it’s who I’ve always been.

Like the girl in Wonderland, I’ve spent my life chasing the unknown, questioning the rules of the world I’ve been thrown into, and holding onto my dignity while stepping into the world I have never known before. 

Alice means noble, a name rooted in strength and grace, just like Hestia—a quiet symbol of warmth, loyalty, and purpose. Both feel like me, tethered to legacy but always yearning for more.

The manor itself feels like Wonderland, a secret world full of mysteries I’m meant to unravel. 

I trail my fingers along the bannister as I climb the grand staircase, each step solidifying why I’m here. 

At the top, I pause at a heavy wooden door, my hand lingering on the handle.

“You’re finally here, Alice,” I whisper with a curved smile, pushing the door open.

[jaakunxkaze]

If there is the Underworld then there is an Elysium separate from hell. That is where 'Persephone' and the others reside in; Elysium Court-a sanctum where souls who are lost and wary lives. The one who leads them and directs their goals is the one known as "Zeus", who dons a full Kitsune mask to hide their appearance while the others have only a half one that covers the upper half of their face to conceal their identity.

Only those who are invited and guided to the court can enter their territory that is deep within the woods, a passcode is required to open the gate and that is to be sung once to get a response back from the gatekeeper. Those who ask will only get the simple answer of "In the Underworld, there is a place where those who are worthy may enter.", as for them this place is where you can live freely. A place where once you put on the mask you are discarding your past self with a new identity when you are out but being yourself within the manor-free of any judgement.

[xasha777]

In the distant future, the remnants of humanity dwelt in grand arcologies, massive structures that served as self-contained cities. One such arcology, known as Elysium, was renowned for its breathtaking architecture, a blend of gothic and futuristic designs. The heart of Elysium housed the Sanctum of Luminescence, an awe-inspiring chamber adorned with intricate stained-glass windows that depicted the history of Earth and its ecosystems.

Evelyn had always felt a strange connection to the Sanctum. As a researcher specializing in the preservation of aquatic ecosystems, she often found herself drawn to the tranquil beauty of the chamber. Today, she stood in the center of the Sanctum, her auburn hair catching the soft light streaming through the stained glass. Clad in her signature red leather coat and black boots, Evelyn exuded a sense of purpose and determination.

Elysium faced a dire crisis. The aquatic ecosystems within its biodomes were failing, and the once-thriving habitats teeming with marine life were now on the brink of collapse. Despite the advanced technology available, the cause of the decline remained elusive. Evelyn's research team had been working tirelessly to uncover the root of the problem, but time was running out.

As Evelyn gazed at the vivid depictions of oceans and rivers on the stained-glass windows, she recalled the legends of the Elemental Core, a mythical artifact said to hold the power to restore balance to nature. Most considered it a mere fairy tale, but Evelyn's instincts told her otherwise. Driven by an unshakable belief in the Core's existence, she had spent years studying ancient texts and maps, piecing together clues that pointed to its location.

Her latest findings suggested that the Core was hidden in the submerged ruins of an ancient city, deep beneath the ocean floor. With the approval of the Elysium Council, Evelyn prepared to embark on a perilous journey to retrieve the Core and save the aquatic ecosystems. She would not be alone; a team of skilled divers and engineers would accompany her on this daring expedition.

The mission began with the team descending into the depths of the ocean, their advanced submersibles cutting through the dark, cold waters. As they ventured deeper, the ruins of the ancient city gradually came into view, a hauntingly beautiful sight bathed in the eerie glow of bioluminescent flora and fauna. Evelyn's heart raced with anticipation as they navigated through the labyrinthine structures, following the faint signals emitted by the Core.

After hours of searching, they finally arrived at a grand chamber, its walls adorned with intricate carvings that mirrored the stained-glass windows of the Sanctum. At the center of the chamber, resting on a pedestal of coral and stone, was the Elemental Core. It pulsed with a soft, ethereal light, a beacon of hope in the darkness.

As Evelyn approached the Core, she felt a surge of energy coursing through her. She carefully retrieved the artifact, its cool surface humming with ancient power. The return journey to Elysium was fraught with challenges, but Evelyn's resolve never wavered. Upon their arrival, the Core was immediately integrated into the arcology's ecosystem management systems.

The transformation was instantaneous. The failing aquatic habitats began to rejuvenate, vibrant life returning to the waters as if by magic. The once-dying ecosystems flourished anew, a testament to the power of the Elemental Core and the perseverance of those who believed in its legend.

Evelyn stood in the Sanctum of Luminescence, the Core now enshrined as a symbol of hope and renewal. The stained-glass windows seemed to glow with renewed brilliance, reflecting the restored vitality of Elysium's aquatic worlds. As she looked out at the thriving biodomes, Evelyn knew that this was just the beginning. With the knowledge and power of the Elemental Core, humanity could continue to safeguard the delicate balance of nature, ensuring a future where both technology and the natural world could coexist in harmony.

[nutrabeast1]

The Symbiotic Symphony of Fitness: An Intricate Tapestry Woven with MuscleBlaze Nutrition Supplements

Introduction:

Embarking on the labyrinthine journey of physical prowess entails an intricate dance between determination, sagacious nutrition, and the judicious integration of state-of-the-art supplementation. Within the vivid kaleidoscope of athletic excellence, a paramount focus is directed toward unraveling the multifaceted facets of stamina elevation, with the iridescent spotlight gleaming brightly upon the illustrious intersection of human tenacity and the avant-garde innovations encapsulated in MuscleBlaze nutrition supplements.

1. **The Artistry of Nutritional Alchemy:** - In the enigmatic realm of stamina augmentation, the foundational bedrock is laid with a meticulous curation of the alimentary palette. An orchestration of macronutrients, elegantly choreographed with protein pirouettes, carbohydrate arabesques, and the subtle grace of healthy fats, resonates harmoniously to bestow the practitioner with an enduring symphony of sustained energy.

2. **Aqua Elysium:** - Within the ethereal realm of hydration, where the aqueous elixir flows with a serpentine grace, the relationship between stamina and hydration is a balletic interplay. The diligent sipping of the crystalline nectar, punctuated by electrolytic crescendos, serves as the quintessential choreography for sustaining vitality during the performative ritual within the sacred gymnasium.

3. **MuscleBlaze: A Quantum Leap in Endurance Augmentation:** - Nestled within the annals of performance-enhancing elixirs, MuscleBlaze emerges as the transcendent maestro orchestrating the crescendo of endurance. The virtuosity of MuscleBlaze Whey Protein, akin to a sonorous sonata, orchestrates the ballet of muscle recovery with an opulent grandeur, while the symphonic intricacies of MuscleBlaze BCAA Pro unfurl a tapestry of reduced muscle fatigue, a testament to the avant-garde brilliance encapsulated within these nutritional opuses.

4. **Ante Meridiem Rituals:** - In the prelude to the corporeal odyssey, the prelude encompasses a culinary overture where the fusion of nutrient-rich sustenance harmonizes with the alchemy of MuscleBlaze Pre-Workout supplements. This prelude, akin to a culinary sonnet, primes the body for the forthcoming choreography of exertion with an exuberant burst of vivacity and heightened cognitive focus.

5. **The Quixotic Euphony of Training Diversity:** - Like a polymorphic ballet, the pursuit of stamina is an ephemeral voyage through diverse training modalities. From the staccato beats of cardiovascular cadences to the robust resonance of strength symphonies, and the frenetic tempo of high-intensity interval training (HIIT) crescendos, the body becomes a canvas painted with the variegated strokes of fitness opulence.

6. **Nocturnal Resonance:** - Amidst the cosmic expanse of physical exertion, the interlude of recovery manifests as a celestial nocturne. The restful serenade of adequate sleep, a nocturnal aria, beseeches the body to rejuvenate and convalesce, ensuring a harmonious equilibrium that transcends the terrestrial realms of fatigue.

Conclusion:

In the cosmic ballet of fitness, where the corporeal form becomes an instrument, the interplay of perplexity and burstiness orchestrates a magnum opus. MuscleBlaze nutrition supplements, as the avant-garde composers, weave a tapestry that transcends the mundane, transforming the gymnasium into a sanctum where the ethereal symphony of endurance unfolds with resplendent grandiosity. Embrace the enigma, dance with the complexity, and let the fitness saga be a polyphonic ode to the zenith of human potential.

[sciencestyled]

How Mortals Dabbled in The Spinal Adventure, With a Little Nudge from Olympus

Oh, you curious creatures of earthly essence, brace yourselves! For we are about to regale you with a tale so splendidly scientific, it almost rivals the divine dramas of our cherished Olympus. The narrative heralds from the realm of mortals, yet soars to the heights where not even Icarus dared flutter his fragile wings. The saga we unfold today is narrated by none other than Asclepius, the Greek god of Medicine himself, who, amidst his godly gallivanting, glanced down from his lofty perch to observe the human quest of spinal restoration.

Ah, the spine—a towering pillar of vitality akin to Hercules’ mighty stature. Yet, with a touch of misfortune, it crumbles much like mortals before a godly gaze. But fret not, for in the epicenter of despair blooms the blossom of hope. Guided perhaps by whispers of ancient lore, the mortal men of science delved into the abyss of the unknown, not just to lament the lost, but with a Herculean resolve, to reclaim it. The hallowed halls of UCLA and the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology echoed with the fervor of Prometheus, as these earthly explorers embarked on a quest most daring.

You see, dear mortals, regrowth of the severed sinews wasn’t enough; it was the guidance, the right path leading to the sacred sanctum of the lumbar region, that was the quest's true trophy. Here, in the dark recesses of scientific journals, lay inscribed the chronicles of their journey—a tale of axons, like brave Odysseus, navigating the tumultuous seas of the spinal cord.

Oh, but the narrative doesn’t end in the tranquil shores of discovery. Like the melodious chords of Apollo’s lyre, the tale resonates with the harmony of combined techniques. Gene therapies sang in concert with molecular cues to orchestrate a saga of neuronal renewal, much like the gods and goddesses in divine symphony. Every chord struck, every melody hummed, beckoned the neurons closer to their Elysium—functional restoration.

And as if the gods decided to peek into the mortal realm, the brilliance of single-cell RNA sequencing illuminated the path. Much like the Moirai, the scientists spun, measured, and cut through the web of cellular complexity to unveil the actors in this grand drama of spinal renaissance. And oh, what a spectacle it was! The narrative unfolded, with axons dancing to the tunes of molecular cues, threading through the labyrinth of the spinal cord towards their destined realms.

You see, amidst the cacophony of mortal existence, there emerged a rhythm, a beat that echoed through the hallowed halls of science. It was a rhythm that promised not just a leap, but a bound towards deciphering the enigmatic tales of the spine. And as these modern-day Daedaluses sketch the blueprints of grander constructs, they inch closer to crafting wings that could carry the hopes of many a crippled Icarus.

So, as Asclepius casts his divine glance upon the spinal odyssey, the parchment of knowledge unfurls further. The quest is far from over, yet the scrolls of science now bear tales that once were deemed realms of the divine. The spinal narrative, embellished with the essence of Olympus, no longer dwells in the shadows of despondence, but gleams with the glow of hope, much like the first rays of dawn kissing the marble steps of Parthenon.

Oh, mortals, how you amuse and amaze with your insatiable quest for knowledge. And as you flip through the chapters of spinal sagas, remember, every narrative penned, every mystery unraveled, is but a whisper in the endless dialogue between the mortal and the divine. So, venture forth, for the world both below and above watches with bated breath, as you unravel the threads of existence, one spinal mystery at a time.

[makeroftherunes]

"The Elysium" please!

I am alive! Hello!! I am answering this month-old request because I discovered, upon finally logging back on to play today, that I had written a snippet for you and never sent it. Truly, the world contains horrors. Anywhoozle, here is a snippet and I will be officially throwing my hat in for this week momentarily!

“Ah kid.” I sighed. I would have asked about friends, why didn’t they call a school mate, ANYONE else. But I figured that was a stupid question - you don’t go to your last resort if there’s any choice. 

“If you want me to leave, I get it.” The kid’s voice suddenly got much softer. They tried to stand, and swayed a little.

I had no idea what to do in this situation. This child was human and I should not let them into a god’s sanctum. But at the same time, I couldn’t let them go home. I moved towards them, carefully, and when they didn’t shrink away, patted their shoulder. “What’s your name, Kid?”

“Mel. What’s yours?” 

I smiled a little. “Hades.”

“No shit?”

I laughed. “No shit.”

[striderincosmos]

A Matter of Loyalty (Or, the Shadow Broker Realizes Garrus Vakarian Doesn’t Give A Damn)

The Shadow Broker’s Vessel

The door to what Liara was sure was the inner sanctum of perhaps the most mysterious being in the galaxy was, in surprisingly quick order for her, stacked up on in short order. Then again, she really shouldn’t have been shocked, even after all this time. Commander Jonathan Shepard and Garrus Vakarian, former C-Sec officer, would have been able to do this sort of thing in their sleep.

“Alright,” she said as she began to hack the door. “This being likely has information on all of us. It might try to use that against us, get us to slip up. Are you prepared for what he might know?”

“We’ll have to be, if we want to get him off our backs.” Garrus replied as he readied his assault rifle, a very well taken care of Mattock. “If he riles us up enough to shoot him in the face, I can’t call that a negative.”

“Even still,” Shepard cautioned, “if the rest of the ship is any indication, things are about to get more dangerous than they’ve already been.”

“As if we don’t deal with dangerous already?” Garrus chuckled. “I mean, we’re still chasing the Collectors here.”

“It’s unlocked now.”  Liara interjected, readying her machine pistol. “Ready? Go.”

The door slid open, and the trio filed into a room that was... empty, a ring of pillars in the middle capped by a desk at their far end. Behind the desk sat the last thing any of them had ever expected.

The being that regarded them with eight beady black eyes sunken into a bestial mask the color of spilled human blood was massive, its mouth, a thing that curved up into the middle of its face and was filled to the brim with razor sharp teeth, twitching into what could generously be called a smile.

It was... a yahg. Something that should have had no business being in a fine, tailored suit. And it spoke to them, spoke to them, with an utterly deep, vibrant voice.

“Good afternoon, Dr. T'Soni.” it began almost amicably. “You're here for the drell you left behind, I'm sure.”

It turned it's gaze to Shepard. “This is bold, Commander Shepard, even for you. You needed a great amount of luck to even find this place. And you will need more still to leave.”

“I don't need luck. I learned that on Elysium. And your Asari Spectre learned the hard way.” Shepard's words were stern, hard things, ones of the kind that Liara knew was always reserved for the unjust.

“Just so,” the Broker replied coolly, “as I'm sure Captain Masarra and the 15 soldiers you saved would tell. And Vasir was expendable. The only thing that her death has cost me is time."

"Like Farron is? Is that right?" Liara nearly spat the words at the beast before her.

"Farron's plight is due to your interference, Dr. T'soni," the Broker replied, its voice still calm. "He betrayed me when he turned over the Commander's body to you. He is simply paying the price now."

"I think betraying someone who's willingly working with the Collectors makes him a decent man in my book." Shepard shot back.

"It is a mutually beneficial partnership, even with your current interference. Even still, the Collectors' offer stands, Commander Shepard, whether you breathe or not.”

“That's enough,” Liara interjected. “Give us Farron. There's nowhere left to hide."

It glanced over at Liara again. “You travel with fascinating companions, Doctor.”

Finally, it looked over at Garrus. "You still have quite the bounty on your head, Archangel. Likely, you would think I would like to take that bounty for myself."

"However, I have a different proposition for you, Mr. Vakarian."

Garrus' rifle dropped ever so slightly for a moment. "What would I ever want from you?"

"I see in you an ideal leader. Put down your weapon and walk away from this, and I can ensure that you will be free to grow into the sort of commander that even Shepard here cannot make you."

"Why would I do that?" Garrus said incredulously. "Shepard wouldn't try and stop me from becoming better. Hell, he's been dragging me kicking and screaming into trying to become the sort of... what's it called? The saint that he is."

"He would not do so intentionally. But he stifles you regardless. Take this opportunity, and you can become Primarch of the Hierarchy in a year. Command the respect of millions. Be lauded as the greatest general the turian race has ever seen."

"Well maybe I don't give a damn about being the best." Garrus growled. "Maybe I just want to be someone who can be depended on, even if things get grim. Maybe I actually enjoy standing next to Shepard and calling him out on some of his bullshit. No. You're fighting all of us."

"So be it."

The Shadow Broker stood, towering over all of them, and roared as it smashed down into his desk, shattering it before throwing a massive chunk at Garrus. The turian leaped out of the way, the piece of desk further shattering on the floor he'd stood on mere moments ago.

The fight was on. And they all knew that there was no way to fully know what came next.