#Ses Salines

[voidingintotheshout]

I think YouTuber Todd in the shadows may have been right when he said that witness was the end of her career. Katy Perry‘s first single from her new “comeback“ album was slammed by feminists, and now her second video/single from her new album is being slammed by environmentalists for supposedly taking place on a prohibited beach, where she was not allowed to film, and she was not allowed to even be:

The video I referenced 

[fortimbras66]

Illot des Frares

Sepultura localizada en 2.009, en segundo término podemos ver el muro A y al fondo el islote de Na Guardis, en la antigüedad, importante factoría púnica Término municipal: Ses Salnes. Fincas o caminos cercanos: Colonia de Sant Jordi. Acceso: Al lado del puerto. Tipo de yacimiento: Posible conjunto monástico y necrópolis. Interés: Su posible relación con la comunidad monástica de la isla de…

[sucesosbaleares]

Herido grave un ciclista en Sant Jordi de Ses Salines, Ibiza

A las 13.25 horas, la sala del 061 Baleares recibía una alerta por un accidente entre un coche y un ciclista. Hasta el lugar se ha desplazado de inmediato una ambulancia SVA, que tras llegar, encuentran a un varón de unos 60 años, con un traumatismo craneoencefálico de carácter grave. Tras ser evaluado y estabilizado, ha sido trasladado con pronóstico grave a la Policlínica Nuestra Señora del…

[neodyymi]

Miksei Lehto laula?

Niin kauan kuin Lehto muisti, oli hän tiennyt, että se Helvetti, josta ne siinä Raamatussakin alvariinsa jankuttivat, oli ihan oikeasti olemassa – ja se oli lastenkodin joulujuhla. Sitä varten joutui pesemään naamansa saippualla, joka kirvelsi silmiä, ja harjaamaan kynnenalusensa kahteen kertaan, että tuli varmasti puhdasta. Tukat kammattiin viivasuoralle jakaukselle ja likistettiin vielä vedellä oikein päänmyötäisesti.

Lopuksi heidät puettiin enkeleiksi – siis vanhoista lakanoista tehtyihin säkkeihin – jotta kukaan ei muistaisi, ettei heistä kellään mitään oikeita pyhävaatteita ollutkaan. Kaikki se vaiva, ja vain sen tähden, että heidät voitaisiin paimentaa parijonossa lavalle itkettämään kunnanpösöjen rouvia, jotta kunnanpösöt itse ymmärtäisivät löysätä kukkaronnyörejään lastenkodin hyväksi – jos eivät muuten, niin saadakseen edes rouvansa lopettamaan poraamisen.

Lauluesityksen päätteeksi samaiset rouvat tungeksisivat kilvan silittämään heidän päälakiaan ja nipistelemään heidän alituisesta nälästä lommottavia poskiaan – riisumatta hansikkaitaan, tietenkin, etteivät vain tulisi vieneeksi heidän täitään ja tautejaan omille penskoilleen – ja länkyttämään itku silmässä, minkälaisia pikku enkeleitä he olivatkaan.

Ja paskat, Lehto ajatteli. Siinä samassa, kun hoitajattaren silmä vältti, hän kiipesi pesukomuutin eteen kannetulle jakkaralle ja irvisteli rumasti omalle kuvajaiselleen peilissä. Ei hän suinkaan miltään enkeliltä näyttänyt, vaan sirkuspelleltä.

Miltä sellaiset sirkuspellet oikeastaan näyttivät, siitä hän ei tosin voinut mennä takuuseen, kun ei ollut koskaan päässyt sirkukseen.

Niin sietämättömältä hänestä tuntui katsella itseään sillä tavalla suittuna ja puunattuna, että pikaistuksissaan hän sotki tukkansa uudelleen. Sanomistahan siitä tulisi, mutta tulkoon. Ei se kumminkaan olisi mitään siihen verrattuna, mitä oli vielä edessä.

Hän oli hautonut suunnitelmaansa koko pitkän viikon, ja hetkenä minä hyvänsä koittaisi aika panna se täytäntöön.

Ajatus sai hänet irvistelyn sijaan virnistämään peilikuvalleen. Etuhampaat puuttuivat, mutta niiden tilalle kasvaisivat pian uudet, rautaiset hampaat. Niinhän hänelle oli kerrottu. Hän ei kylläkään ollut ensin uskoa lainkaan semmoiseen hölynpölyyn, mutta kun isommat olivat vakuuttaneet sen olevan totta ja väläyttäneet omia, kerran pudonneiden tilalle kasvaneita hampaitaan, oli hänenkin uskottava se todeksi.

Vaikka ei niitä kyllä oikeasti raudasta ollut tehty, niitä hampaita. Se oli sentään ollut pötypuhetta.

Kun aika sitten viimein koitti ja hoitajattaret rupesivat huseeraamaan heistä parijonoa, Lehto liittyi mukisematta jonon jatkoksi. Se oli osa hänen suunnitelmaansa. Hän sieti luunapinkin, jonka muuan hoitajatar hänelle antoi pantuaan merkille hänen sotkeneen vasta kammatun tukkansa. ”Mahtaako tuommoisesta elikosta ikänä kunnon ihmistä tullakaan”, tämä moitti. ”Katurakillekin kävisi käytöstapojen opettaminen helpommin.”

Pian heidät ohjattiin parijonossa lavan taakse, jossa hoitajat kiivaasti hyssytellen ryhtyivät järjestämään heitä uudelleen, sillä kertaa pituusjärjestykseen. Raskaiden samettiverhojen takana sali oli täynnänsä väkeä, sen saattoi kuulla lavan taakse kantautuvasta, innostuneesta puheensorinasta. Joku innokas kävi kurkistamassa verhojen raosta salin puolelle vahvistaakseen asian.

Viereisellä penkillä lojui pari jakamatta jäänyttä käsiohjelmaa. Lehto ei kylläkään osannut lukea, mutta hän oli asunut lastenkodissa kauan ja tiesi jo vanhastaan, että ensin laulettaisiin Orvon huokaus, takuuvarma kyynelten kirvoittaja, ja sitten lastenkodin johtajatar pitäisi puheen Suomen köyhäinhoidon tilasta, niin kuin edellisvuonnakin – ja sitä edellisenä, ja.

”Tulepas sinä Toivo tänne eteen”, yksi hoitajattarista supatti viittilöiden hänen suuntaansa. ”Sinulla kun on kaunein lauluääni.”

Silloin Lehto veti kätensä puuskaan eikä suostunut hievahtamaankaan. Monta kertaa hän oli joutunut nielemään tappionsa, kun hänestä ei ollut ikänsä saati kokonsa puolesta panemaan hoitajille hanttiin, mutta viimein hän oli sen keksinyt: laulamaan häntä ei voisi pakottaa, ei sitten millään. Pesköön hänen suunsa saippualla, jättäköön ruoatta tai antakoon selkään, siitä ei ollut niin väliksi – mutta ensimmäistäkään itkuvirttä häntä ei saataisi enää kuuna päivänä lurittamaan.   

”Toivo”, sihahti toinen hoitaja kärsimättömästi. ”Nyt teet kerrankin niin kuin sanotaan. Tänne sieltä niin kuin olisit jo.”

”En tee enkä tule enkä ihan varmana laula”, Lehto sanoi niin järkähtämättömästi kuin hänen ikäisensä riukusäärinen pojannappula vain ikinä saattoi. ”En, vaikka vetelisitte kepillä pitkin selkää!”

Sen hän sentään aavisti jo ennakolta, että lähimpänä seisova hoitaja aikoisi takuuvarmasti yrittää kopata hänet kiinni ja raahata väkisin eturiviin. Sen vuoksi hän panikin siltä seisomalta juoksuksi ja syöksähti avonaisesta luukusta lavan alle. Sinne hoitajat eivät mahtuisi häntä ollenkaan niin helposti seuraamaan. Sitä kautta hän pääsisi ulos ja sen myötä karkuun koko typerästä joulujuhlasta.

Eikä olisi niin väliksi siitäkään, vaikka hän pääsisi takaisin sisälle vasta tilaisuuden päätyttyä ja joutuisi siihen asti värjöttelemään räntäsateessa pelkkä lakana päällään. Tai vaikka saisi kuumeen ja joutuisi vuoteenomaksi, kun toiset pääsisivät laskemaan mäkeä.

Sentään hän oli näyttänyt niille, ja sehän se kaikkein tärkeintä oli.  

[contremineur]

Ses yeux ont la couleur du large doux-amer, mille relents salins ont gonflé ses narines, sa poitrine a humé mille brises marines, et sa bouche entr’ouverte a bu toute la mer.

Lucie Delarue-Mardrus, from La figure de proue (in Choix de poèmes, Alphonse Lemerre 1951)

[victormalonso]

ARAÑA NEGRA DE MIS NOCHES XIV | © víctor m. alonso, for the photo and poem

en las dimensiones del silencio está la noche, estás tú; el mar se inunda de luz lunar, y tu boca, y tu cabello negro, y tus ojos, que reflejan el otro lado del espejo que imagino, que invento para ti: allí está la luna, sumergiendo la mar en luz, de su luz improbable, luz imposible: luz del espacio infinito que somos, del espectro cósmico de tu boca, universal marea, sal ruidosa del océano que nos baña y nos llena, oleaje salino que empuja la costa, marino ensueño de tú y yo, que empujamos, tiramos en el silencio milenario, araña negra de mis noches, mujer, deseo de mis ensoñaciones.

BLACK SPIDER OF MY NIGHTS XIV in the dimensions of silence there is the night, there is you; the sea is flooded with moonlight, and your mouth, and your black hair, and your eyes, that reflect the other side of the mirror that I imagine, that I invent for you: there, it is the moon, submerging the sea in light, with its improbable light, impossible light: light of the infinite space that we are, of the cosmic spectrum of your mouth, universal tide, noisy salt of the ocean that flood and fills us, saline waves that push the coast, marine dream of you and me, that we push, we pull in the millennial silence , black spider of my nights, woman, desire of my dreams.

[satinea]

“Très cher René,

Par gros temps en mer je pense toujours à ce peintre dont je ne sais plus le nom qui se faisait attacher au mât de misaine pendant la tempête pour voir et garder la vision de tous ces déchaînements d’écume.

Terre-Neuve. Un froid de loup, j’ai le visage comme une tomate picoté d’aiguilles salines. Quel temps, mais l’essentiel est qu’on avance sans se contenter de ne pas dériver.

Seize heures de sommeil sur vingt-quatre, le reste à deviner le paysage.

Si le coeur t’y porte, tu trouveras autant de variétés, d’aspects différents sur ce long parcours, que la terre nous en donne sur le sien.

Il n’y a pas que cette immense ébullition où l’on se contente de quelques tracés monotones. C’est extraordinairement mesuré l’océan, bien bâti, alerte, différent à chaque instant heureux et quelles trouées au couchant avec ces petits nuages pâles qui semblent rire du poids des vagues, bleues, vertes, serpents, miroirs superbes, que cela s’organise bien ce débordement.

Quel tempérament équilibré. Je n’en ai jamais tant vu de couleurs fugitives, certaines impossibles, éclatantes, calmes. Quelle joie René, quel ordre.

Tu vois, je suis heureux en diable, je pense à toi, mon amour dort un peu plus que moi mais supporte très bien ce vacarme, intérieurement serein.

Je t’embrasse.

Nicolas

Te peindrai des tempêtes en rentrant.”

Nicolas de Staël “Lettres”

***

Tableau : Mer et nuages (1953)

[ruttotohtori]

Viimeäisessä unessa seikkailin jossain linnassa, ja siellä oli iso sali, jossa oli olympialaisten telinevoimestelukilpailut meneillään. Kävelin sen salin läpi ja päädyin kylkemaan pitkää, kapeaa ja mutkittelevaa käytävää pitkin (se oli niinku jostai lasten satukirjan linnasta, seinät oli tehty isoista, harmaista kivistä). Sit siin oli joku leveempi kohta ja siel oli seinällä iso Aku Ankan sukupuuta esittävä taulu. Sukupuusta kävi ilmi, että Roope Ankan isoisä on David Hasselhoff.

[its-callum-everybody]

I CANNOT DRAW. You see chat, I can’t draw, so I need to think of ways to share my TWST oc with the world. So instead of learning how to draw, I’ll be doing it the best way I know how: In Depth Character Analysis!

Part 1 — Basic Character Information / Relationships

Part 2 — Everything to do with her Unique Magic

Part 3 — Lore

Part 4 — Appearance

Part 3 ➤

LORE.

I love it, you probably love it. (At least I would hope so if you’re still reading this.) Lore is what makes up any good storyline. And makes up even better character because all characters have a backstory! Even if it’s something completely rudimentary. Not every backstory has to be completely tragic. But I am inclined to make my OC (Cyrielle) go through the wringer. So that’s what we’re doing!

Lets start off with some explanation about the movie she is inspired from though, shall we?

The Black Cauldron~!

Now, The Black Cauldron is framed around a young boy who dreams of being a hero. But is in charge of taking care of a pig instead. As it turns out, the pig can create visions and The Horned King (the main antagonist) wants that pig so he can find The Black Cauldron.

The Black Cauldron was the prison/death sentence type deal used to rule over the mystical land of Prydain. He was so good at being evil that everyone was scared of him, even the gods. So when they put him in this cauldron it made the cauldron evil. So now whoever finds it can grant themselves a bunch of power by summoning an undead army. The problem is The Cauldron takes up a lot of power and ends up actually consuming The Horned King at the end because it truly can’t be controlled.

So let’s straighten out one thing, which character is Cyrielle based off of???

Taran, the pig keeper and protagonist? No.

Princess Eilonwy? No.

Dallben? No.

The Creeper or Gurgi? Definitely not.

The Horned King? Surprisingly no.

The Black Cauldron and The Emperor Inside of it whom we barely know any past lore of because the movie doesn’t really tell you anything besides how evil he was? DING DING DING! WE HAVE A WINNER!

Now, while the Cauldron played great inspiration in her Unique Magic (check out Part 2 for that grand explanation) Her character isn’t precisely based ON the emperor. No. She plays OFF of him.

Cyrielle, as explained by her upcoming lore, acts as a sort of explanation as to how The Emperor (Teivel, as I named him.) ties into the world of TWST and sort of just how his legacy played out. Granted. She is still connected to him, a fact I will elaborate on later.

But now that we have that explained lets move onto phase one—

World-building!

World building is important here because I somehow have to manage to literally input the entirety of Prydain somewhere in the TWST-verse.

Now we don’t have names of continents per se, we just have the names of Nations which are on those continents and then places in those kingdoms like- you have The Queendom of Roses but inside the Queendom of roses are villages and cities like Clocktown.

Or in the Shaftlands you have characters from Harveston or Fleur City IN THE SHAFTLANDS. So most of characters are only identified by the nations/kingdoms they hails from instead of the villages. No clue how those Nations/Kingdoms are positioned geographically or how they link up.

But from what I can tell from the Wiki and a now inactive blog (thank you @twstarchives, you are my saving grace.)

They do take up entire if not certain sections of a land mass, except for The Coral Sea obviously because that going to be part of a larger ocean instead of land. Like how the North Atlantic Ocean connects to the Caribbean sea.

[ For those wondering the difference between a Sea and Ocean, here’s the summary of a googled answer:

Oceans — Larger, Deeper, more open divisions of earths salt water, typically higher salinity levels.

Seas — Smaller parts of the ocean, located where land & ocean meet, usually partially enclosed by land, shallower, lower levels of Salt.]

So I’m basically throwing darts at a board here. Except I have no idea where anything else is located. So what better idea than to just have it to not exist!

Prydain simply just won’t exist. Also. Another good reason for just not having it exist will be because at the beginning, as she and Crowley are searching for Prydain. It will make it harder to find information and throw them off the trail, red herring style, even though Prydain will still, at one point have existed in TWST wonderland.

And what better a place to put in than the Shaftlands.

“ A large country with a diverse population. Because it's comprised of several different biomes, it's home to a variety of cultures. ”

In the Black Cauldron we see a grand shot between different area. There is a drastic change between the farm at the start, The Forbidden Forest, and the land where The Horned King resides which is sort of like an Alpine Tundra. So given the difference between all there places and the fact the Shaftlands is described as large. I’m gonna say that it’s sort of towards the Northwest as pure North is very snowy according to Jack’s Wish/Birthday card but we don’t see a lot of snow. So Northwest it shall be!

That leaves me with explaining how Prydain became a lost Kingdom. And just as The Black Cauldron was never really a popular Disney film in its time, I’m going to say it worked the same for Prydain. Prydain. may have been well-known, but as time progressed it grew smaller and many of its people branched off to go to different lands or just generally lost itself. So as these people naturally went away from Prydain, along with a bit of land change from the elements over the years. There isn’t much to be noted about the lost kingdom as there wasn’t much left behind from it besides a few legends, records, and buildings. And most documents and writings left behind probably would be unable to be translated. As many of them would many be in a lost common tongue.

So thats taken care of! Onto phase two,

The Legends and Lore!

Now of course, all the villains and hero’s featured in Twisted wonderland some long, long time ago. So that’s the same for all the characters featured in The Black Cauldron. So obviously The tale of Taran, The Horned King, and The Cauldron is well known. And is probably one of the legends that was best kept alive because of how directly it impacted Prydain as a nation.

Still lesser known, but not entirely forgotten!

Which brings us to how The Cauldron, or Teivel, and Cyrielle are related. I mentioned earlier there wasn’t a direct inspiration from the cauldron in her personality. More so in her ability. Now why is that?

Because she’s meant to both reflect and go against him.

I’m adding a legend to Prydain’s catalog:

~ The Princess and The Thief

“ Long ago, in the faraway land of Prydain there was rumored to be a King so cruel, so evil that even the gods feared him. As no prison would hold him, he was thrown alive into a crucible of molten iron. There, his demonic spirit was captured in the form of a great Black Cauldron.

The King had no wives, though his mistresses were many. And with one he had a child. A princess who at the time was but just a babe. But, just in case she had inherited his evil heart, she was cast away into a manor deep within The Forbidden Forest. Through trees so thick and under the canopy so dark not even the bravest soul would dare venture in.

However, no one dared to consider that even a brave soul would not enter, a foolish one certainly would. A young lady, who laid claim to the keep of gold of an ex-nobles by trickery was the first and last of the fools. She took her goods as the good-men chased her down. Ducking into the forest on the whim no one would dare follow. Her whim was correct though it cost her much.

Loosing her gold to the vicious forest she had no chance but to re-treat. The forest forbade it, growing and churning to keep her inside as she ran in endless circles. Until, instead of the end, she came upon a grody manor to which she let herself inside with no hesitance. Wonder her delight when she found that the inside had been far kinder. Orante walls and Avant-Grade Roofs. Imagine her surprise when at the top of the stairs, peering down at her, was the most beautiful girl she had ever seen— ”

I’ll cut the story off there for everyone’s sanity but to summarize the rest The Theif (Named Verity) and The Princess (Named Enora) begrudgingly start to form a friendship to which Verity promises to help Enora escape her fate [to reside in the manor for the rest of her life] because she doesn’t want to live forever in punishment for her fathers crimes. But the son of the Nobleman whom imprisoned Enora in the manor gets word of it and sends one of his best hunters after them.

The girls attempt to navigate the seemingly endless manor through multiple magic rooms but end up having to lock themselves in the clock tower. In one last culmination, they both decide they know what they have to do. Locking themselves in a kiss as the Hunter breaks through the door. Though what he finds on the other side is two girls, clasped in each other’s arms, a sword through both their hearts as their bodies slowly eroded into nothing but blood. Which then began to form a different woman from both their forms, she removes the sword from her chest, kills the hunter. Then leaves. Disappearing nameless into legend.

As you could guess, the woman formed is Cyrielle. Though she had no recollection of these memories herself and memories she does have of her past actually fake (though no one knows that yet).

It’s a generational process of cycle-breaking.

Teival is the one who does the crimes. He does not feel sorry for anyone, and even trapped inside the Cauldron he will remain wicked.

Enora has to pay for them just as he does despite being innocent, having others fear her and her power simply because she was the daughter of a cruel man. All she wants is a life her own. Undecided by fate and fear.

Cyrielle is the one meant to break it. She is the creation of love between Enora and Verity even during their fates, having but one purpose but to do what they couldn’t, break free from fate. Still. Cyrielle is cursed just like Enora was.

She has Teival’s blood running through her veins just as Enora did. Only now it is less, only now is it covered by the spite that came from love. She can bleed out however much she likes but she will always be the granddaughter of Teival until the world decides she is not that, but just Cyrielle.

Teival’s Lamb. It was once the unique Magic Enora had. Now it is Cyrielle’s. The haunting reminder of their own power drags them back to their Father/Grand-father. Anytime they bleed, they can make it into something else, even something used for good. But will always feel evil because they have bled for it. Bled for it because it is his.

So that brings me to phase three;

Why and how is she at NRC?

Cyrielle would appear similar to how MC/Yuu does. Dragged to school by the dark mirror because she is filled with power magical abilities. In fact, given the fact the mirror may be even older than the school itself; my whole basis is that it immediately sensed someone equal to Teival’s power had appeared and immediately sent a carriage to retrieve them.

The problem is, Cyrielle doesn’t remember anything and what she does remember is [unknowingly] fake. Why is that you may ask?

Because The Manor is magic, I mentioned that earlier. Even if Enora had managed to escape there certainly would have been more precautions in place in case she did. One being a spell that made her drowsy, possibly making her forget everything that occurred so it was easier to transport her to somewhere back to the manor or somewhere with higher security.

Then Why is she so young then if this happened such a long time ago? I head you ask

She’s young because of the forest and because she, on some level, was literally created via magic. She wasn’t born, she was crafted. Meaning that she had more control over how she appears because just as the appearance of clay can be morphed so can she. She doesn’t realize this though as she would spend most time after the manor ordeal trying to find a way out of the forest. So long, that it would be modern day by the time she exited. Only to be subdued by magic that made her forget all that struggle.

And now that I’ve answered your questions let’s move into more of Why she’s there, shall we?

Now. The simple reason to the mirror would be ‘Hey. There was just a weird spike in really powerful magic energy. We should probably get that person an invite.’ And it did.

The more lore-complex, my reason, is because it’s a school of villains. The people here embody on some level what Cyrielle is trying to escape from. (Not that she knows that, *cough* amnesia *cough*).

So what better way to have her do that then to have her also make everyone go on a journey of self-exploration with her by pointing out their cruddy flaws and giving them some accidental therapy. Even though it’s hard because ninety-eight percent of the student population all suck.

But she’s going to try her best and, hopefully, by the time its over with she can be recognized not by her grandfather but as her own person, get her memories back, not have an identity crisis, get a really awesome boyfriend (Silver), and save some people from their toxic and dangerous qualities!

[crazy-so-na-sega]

E voglio precisare che la maggior parte dei morti sono morti per fame. Cioè se togliamo la parte brutta del comunismo (Stalin e i suoi crimini sanguinari) e teniamo la parte buona (le politiche economiche) è proprio la parte "buona" ad aver ucciso più gente.

Stalin--->Salin--->Salis..........non c'è correlazione...:-)

[chic-a-gigot]

Le Petit écho de la mode, no. 15, 11 avril 1897, Paris. 1. Chapeau Réjane. 2. Toquet Maud. 3. Toilette en serge. 4. Toilette en vigogne. Ville de Paris / Bibliothèque Forney

1. Chapeau Réjane à 6 fr. 95. La forme ronde et coiffante est en paille de riz très souple; sur le côté, moud formé par des coques en très beau ruban de salin ; le côté opposé est orne du géranium s’élevant en aigrette. La forme se fait eu noir seulement et le ruban est noir ou mousse. Le géranium crème ou rose teinté rouge se remplace par du lilas blanc ou mauve, des bleuets nuance naturelle, des œillets, des roses ou des pavots de nuance au choix: noir, rose, rubis, mauve, vert, crème et paille. Toutes ces fleurs sont avec feuillage.

1. Réjane hat at 6 fr. 95. The round and styling shape is made of very flexible rice straw; on the side, grinds formed by shells in a very beautiful saline ribbon; the opposite side is adorned with the geranium rising in a crest. The form is made in black only and the ribbon is black or foam. The cream or pink tinted red geranium is replaced by white or mauve lilac, natural shade cornflowers, carnations, roses or poppies in shades of your choice: black, pink, ruby, mauve, green, cream and straw. All these flowers are with foliage.

—

2. Toquet Maud à 4 francs pour dames et jeunes filles. La forme gracieuse, avec fond jais, est entourée de fleurs et de gaze plissée noire. Nœud formé par des coques en très beau ruban de salin noir. Nous laissons les fleurs au choix entre des roses, pavots et œillets de nuance noire, verte, crème, jaune, rose, rubis ou mauve, des violettes blanches ou naturelles et des bleuets nuance naturelle. Aucun envoi n’est fait contre remboursement; adresser mandat-poste à M. Orsoni, 3, rue de la Sablière, Paris. Ajouter 1 fr. 50 pour frais d’emballage et de port eu gare française (pour deux chapeaux 2 fr 35.) Pour l’étranger, le supplément pour les frais d’emballage et de port est de 2 fr. 25 par chapeau, lin délai de huit jours nous est nécessaire pour la bonne exécution des commandes.

2. Toquet Maud at 4 francs for ladies and young girls. The graceful form, with a jet background, is surrounded by flowers and black pleated gauze. Knot formed by hulls in very beautiful ribbon of black saline. We leave the flowers to choose from roses, poppies and carnations in black, green, cream, yellow, pink, ruby or mauve shades, white or natural violets and natural shade cornflowers. No shipment is made COD; send money order to Mr. Orsoni, 3, rue de la Sablière, Paris. Add 1 fr. 50 for packing and postage at the French station (for two hats 2 fr 35.) For foreign countries, the supplement for packing and postage is 2 fr. 25 per hat, a period of eight days is necessary for the proper execution of orders.

—

3. Toilette en serge. Jupe cerclée de galons mohair, plate devant et sur les hanches et plissée derrière, haute ceinture-corselet en taffetas. Boléro croisé, à revers, orné de galons, col rabattu et petite cravate écossaise, plastron de toile à l’intérieur. Manches d’une seule pièce drapées par des points et garnies de petits jockeys ornés galon mohair. Matériaux: 8 mètres serge, 0m60 taffetas.

3. Twill ensemble. Skirt encircled with mohair braid, flat in front and on the hips and pleated in the back, high corselet belt in taffeta. Double-breasted bolero, with lapels, adorned with braid, turn-down collar and small Scottish tie, canvas plastron inside. One-piece sleeves draped with points and trimmed with small jockeys adorned with mohair braid. Materials: 8 meters serge, 0m60 taffeta.

—

4. Toilette en vigogne. Jupe ronde, garnie de baguettes piquées et boutons. Corsage blouse en taffetas écossais, enserré par une ceinture drapée en satin, empiècement carré formant épaulettes garni déboutons. Manches d’une seule pièce drapées par des points, petits revers au bas, cravate nouée devant et petit col rabattu. Matériaux: 6 in. vigogne, 1 m 50 taffetas écossais. Ceinture et col en satin.

4. Vicuna ensemble. Round skirt, trimmed with stitched strips and buttons. Blouse bodice in tartan taffeta, encircled by a draped satin belt, square yoke forming shoulder pads trimmed with buttons. One-piece sleeves draped by stitching, small lapels at the bottom, tie tied in front and small turn-down collar. Materials: 6 in. vicuna, 1 m 50 Scottish taffeta. Satin waistband and collar.

[leibal]

Marina Gran Townhouse is a minimalist townhouse located in Ses Salines, Spain, designed by Angel Martin Studio. While it retains its traditional characteristics, the dwelling now showcases modern touches that seamlessly intertwine with its storied past. The interiors adopt a minimalist aesthetic, championing simplicity and tranquillity.

[motownfiction]

unexpected prophet

Will could have stayed at the hotel, but he didn’t. He has this thing about being alone now. He’s never liked it, per se, but it’s gotten worse since Sam died. Just over four months since his funeral now, and it seems weird not to know where Lucy is at all times. So, when she had to sit for a dissertation defense of some wannabe novelist she’s only met in person twice, he came to the English building along with her. It’s better knowing she’s right behind that door. He can’t believe they had to leave Emma with Carrie and Charlie.

That’s when a little girl in an Alice in Wonderland dress runs past him, unafraid of anything, laughing loudly in a quiet hallway. A harried woman chases after her.

“Faye!” the woman calls after the little girl. “Faye Egan, you come here now!”

“Which one’s Daddy?” the girl laughs, trying to see through closed doors.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why not?”

“Because we don’t want to distract him.”

“Dis-tract! Dis-tract!”

The woman scurries down the hallway and picks up the little girl. She looks at Will with exhaustion in her eyes, and something in them reminds him of Lucy.

“Sorry,” the woman says. “My husband’s defending his dissertation right now, and somebody’s a little tired of waiting.”

“No problem,” Will says. “Is she four?”

“Actually, yeah. Should I ask how you know?”

Will laughs.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “I’ve got two daughters. Got pretty good at guessing ages the more they started making friends.”

“Oh. How old are your kids, then?”

“Eight and nineteen.”

The woman looks at him like she doesn’t believe him. Will laughs again. That’s his favorite part of listing Emma’s age first.

“And I’m twenty-three, so, how did that happen?” he jokes.

The woman laughs, too.

“So, don’t worry about your little miss bothering me,” Will says. “I’m used to it.”

The little girl – Faye – waves at Will.

“Hi!” she says.

Will waves back. He points to the closed door in front of them.

“You said your husband’s defending his dissertation in there?” he asks.

The woman nods.

“Yeah, time’s almost up,” she says. “Our daughter’s been through two of these this week, though I guess she behaved a little better during mine.”

“So, you’re a doctor, too!”

“Mmm-hmm. I’m not necessary in any emergency, though, unless you come up against a real Brady Bunch stumper on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?”

“Ah, don’t sell yourself short. My wife’s the same kind of doctor. I think she’s sitting on your husband’s committee, actually.”

The woman’s eyes light up. She has that thing – that thing smart girls have. Will almost can’t believe they haven’t met before. She seems so familiar, like they all come from the same place. Will feels that way about a lot of people now.

“You’re here with Dr. Callaghan!” she says. “Oh, man. I had to take one literature class here, and we read her essay about narcissism in The Mill on the Floss … that was good shit. I’m the one who gave Chris the idea to write to her. I thought she’d get it.”

Will nods.

“Lucy gets a lot of things.”

The woman extends her hand for a shake.

“I’m Blair,” she says.

“Will. Not a doctor. Just a lawyer.”

“Just a lawyer. My family would be thrilled if that were me.”

Faye runs in between them and throws her hands in the air. Will grins. There’s something so … Elenore about her.

“Hi!” she says again.

“Sorry,” Blair says. “This is my daughter, Faye. She’s about done waiting.”

“I don’t blame her,” Will says. “Feels like this defense has been going on all day.”

“Tell me about it. Mine felt like a year.”

She looks at Will like she’s trying to place him, too. Maybe they have met before. Lucy mentioned that Chris Egan (whom Will still thinks of as Chip) was from Ann Arbor-Saline and married his high school sweetheart, too (“Just not when he was still in high school,” she joked while she read his novel). How easy would it have been to walk past them at a movie theater or a concert at the Joe? The world is big, sure, but it doesn’t feel much bigger than Michigan.

“Why’d you come along?” Blair asks. “Wanted to get a look at our tall ugly gray building?”

“No,” Will says. “Just … didn’t want to sit alone in a hotel.”

Blair nods. Clearly, she’s smart enough to understand what’s going on, but she’s also smart enough not to say anything. Will hears the door open behind him, and his heart leaps for a glimpse of Lucy. He doesn’t get one. The door closes again, and Faye shouts.

“DADDY!”

Will turns around and sees a dark-haired guy, about his own height, scooping up Faye and carrying her over to Blair.

“They’re deliberating?” Blair asks.

“Yeah,” the guy – Chris, Chip, whoever – says. “I think it went pretty well, though I had to answer a few too many questions about Freud.”

“Fucker.”

Blair gestures toward Will, and Chris looks at him like he didn’t see him standing there.

“This is Dr. Callaghan’s husband,” she says. “He’s not a doctor. Just a lawyer.”

“Just a lawyer,” Chris repeats. “Shit, if I’d wanted to be a lawyer, my dad would probably still be alive.”

He shakes Will’s hand. Surprisingly professional, for a novelist.

“Hope Lucy wasn’t too tough on you,” he says. “I know my wife, and I’m pretty sure all those Freud questions came from her.”

“It’s alright. She was right to ask ‘em. Uh, Blair, honey, can we maybe move a little away from the door? I’m terrified I’m gonna hear them talking about why I suck and should never publish a real novel.”

“Of course.”

But before they walk into another corner, Blair looks at Will with those eerily familiar eyes. He’s not sure if she’s going to say anything, but she does.

“It’s OK,” she says. “Whatever it is. Why you can’t be in the hotel. It’s OK.”

Will nods. He knew she understood. This unexpected prophet with the giggling little daughter and the eerily familiar eyes. Maybe she’s right.

He waits for the door to open again. This time, he’s going to get a good look at Lucy, just to make sure she’s still there.

(part of @nosebleedclub daily challenge -- day 28! yes, i am attempting more crossovers between my fiction blogs 😭)

[loominggaia]

1:¿Cuáles son algunas subculturas de lamai?

2: note que la mayoría de las razas de sirenes (el pueblo) surgieron en masas de agua dulce y 3 en agua salada. La pregunta es ¿Los individuos con más ascendencia de agua dulce, tienen problemas en el agua salada y viceversa? ( No sé si se entiende)

(Translated via Google Translate)

1:What are some lamai subcultures? 2: Note that most mermaid races (the people) arose in bodies of fresh water and 3 in salt water. The question is, do individuals with more freshwater ancestry have problems in saltwater and vice versa? ( I do not know if you understand)

1 ) Still working on this! I've got some ideas, it should be done soon.

2 ) I think I understand what you're saying. In the World of Looming Gaia, all Aquarian peoples can cope with both salt and fresh water just fine, regardless of their ancestry.

Water salinity only affects cecaelia, as it determines whether they have legs or not. If baby cecaelia hatch in fresh water, they will have legs. If they hatch in salt water, they will not have legs. The same principle applies to decapitated cecaelia. The water they regenerate in determines whether their bodies grow back with legs or not.

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

[victormalonso]

ARAÑA NEGRA DE MIS NOCHES (IV) | by victor m. alonso

[un diario de sueños]

la noche aparece detrás del horizonte, una mancha negra, progresiva, que invade la superficie del cielo, como tú, que llegas desde algún lugar del infinito y apareces en esta orilla del silencio, en este páramo salino y nocturno, la noche solitaria donde te espero, donde sólo el olor del mar y su bullicio anuncian tu llegada, tu olor de noche y de silencio [tu olor de más silencio, un silencio que se añade al silencio de la noche] tu olor de mujer, hembra subrepticia, -ah! el olor de la noche y del silencio en tu sexo-, mujer creada por la noche, formada por el mar a golpes de luna, de marejadas impías y rudas, hembra-silueta de oleajes que rompen el alma de la costa, el espíritu del deseo, tú! mujer suprema de mis noches, araña negra del anhelo a quien penetro en el éxtasis del oleaje, el borde del abismo donde las olas golpean la costa y galopan sobre el rocoso grito de la tierra, mujer! mujer espíritu del caos, traslúcida, en la penumbra del infinito…

BLACK SPIDER OF MY NIGHTS IV

[a logbook of dreams]

the night appears behind the horizon, a black, progressive stain that invades the surface of sky, like you, that arrives from somewhere in the infinite and appears on this shore of silence, in this saline and nocturnal moor, the lonely night where I wait for you, where only the smell of sea and its bustle announce your arrival, your smell of night and silence [your smell of more silence, a silence that adds to the silence of night] your woman's smell, surreptitious female, -ah! the smell of night and silence in your sex-, woman created by the night, formed by the sea with the blows of the moon, of impious and rude swells, female-silhouette of waves that break the soul of the coast, the spirit of longing, you! Supreme woman of my nights, black spider of longing whom I penetrate into the ecstasy of waves, in the edge of abyss where the waves hit the coast and gallop over the rocky cry of earth, woman! spirit woman of chaos, translucent, in the penumbra of infinity...

[justeunlama]

J'ai envie de te dire allez viens,

J'ai envie de partir maintenant,

J'ai envie de te retrouver tu me manques tellement,

Allons nous aimer sous la lune et brûler notre peau a la lumière du soleil,

Aimons nous dans l'eau fraîche des cascades et dans l'eau saline des mers et océans.

Faire en sorte que l'herbe fraîche du matin nous caresse les pieds et que les feuilles des arbres nous protège lors de nos siestes d'après midi.

Laisse tes cheveux danser avec le vent et qu'il se parfume des odeurs de celui-ci.

Installons nous ici et là pour quelques jours ou quelques heures. Laissons nos humeurs et notre amour guider ce périple.

Laissons nous, nous faire guider par nos pulsions, notre grain de folie du moment, par ce qui nous anime vivons pour nous !

Un voyage qui serait doux et simple agrémenté d'amour et d'eau fraîche.

Laissons la lune dessiner nos silhouettes dans les nuits étoilée et laissons l'aube illuminer et animer celles-ci.

💚💙