#cathedral flower festival

[midwesternartlovertraveler]

The Flower Festival at Saint Cecilia Cathedral in Omaha, Nebraska https://midwesternartlovertraveler.tumblr.com/

[ohisms]

↪     𝑺𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 , HISTORICAL 〳 FANTASY edition !   (  a  collection  of  25  settings  based upon the period 〳 fantasy genres ; meant  to  inspire  drabbles  or  be  used  as  prompts . WILL be updated .   )

001. the interior of an elegant carriage .

002. seated at a large dining table set with an elaborate meal .

003. the shadowy corner of a lively tavern .

004. the top of a light house during a raging storm .

005. along the dimly lit corridor of a large manor .

006. the damp , dark brig of a pirate ship .

007. the ruins of an ancient structure lost to time .

008. a theater hall brimming with attendees .

009. the bustling streets of a market town .

010. a sun - drenched vineyard .

011. along a boardwalk overlooking the sea .

012. a moonlit cemetery full of weathered graves .

013. on horseback , deep in the woods .

014. a luxurious drawing room smelling of tea .

015. a sprawling dragon roost , hidden atop craggy mountain peaks .

016. a war - torn battlefield .

017. a beautiful cathedral bustling with churchgoers .

018. within a crammed opera box during a performance .

019. an elegant tearoom serving afternoon refreshments .

020. a lakeside pavilion on an especially hot day .

021. a sprawling network of underground catacombs .

022. a hidden glade in the middle of the woods .

023. the deep , dark dungeon of a castle .

024. a market square full of fruit and fineries .

025. a baker's shop smelling of wonderful pastries .

026. the quiet stables of a large estate .

027. on the outskirts of a magnificent water fountain .

028. in a dimly lit library , hidden amongst the books .

029. among the high walls of a hedge maze .

030. at the front desk of a warm , homey inn .

031. under the protection of a gazebo as it rains .

032. on the landing of a busy train station .

033. a gambling hall alight with raucous laughter and drink .

034. a pristine infirmary , mostly empty .

035. on board a huge ship making a long voyage .

+   20  more  setting  prompts :    6 / 01 / 2024

036. in a sunlit garden adorned with blooming flowers .

037. at the edge of a serene forest lake under a starry sky.

038. within a quiet corridor of a castle during a lavish ball .

039. in a bustling blacksmith's forge , sparks flying .

040. on a rocky cliffside overlooking a vast ocean .

041. in a quaint village square during a festival .

042. within a secret chamber hidden behind a bookshelf .

043. in the grand atrium of a luxurious hotel .

044. along a narrow brick alleyway in a crowded town .

045. within a busy marketplace in a desert town .

046. on a tranquil beach at sunrise .

047. in a cozy cottage with a crackling fireplace .

048. at the helm of a majestic airship soaring through the clouds .

049. in a grand library filled with ancient tomes .

050. on a bustling harbor dock as ships come and go .

051. within a magical forest where the trees glow softly .

052. in an apothecary's shop filled with herbs and potion .

053. at a secluded cabin by a dangerously quick river .

054. within the opulent throne room of a powerful ruler .

055. in an enchanted glade where fairies dance in the moonlight .

[a-998h]

Each nations festivals for the Creator.

Mondstadt

It is known as The Ventus Dies Natalis (Latin: The Winds Birthday Festival).

Time of year: Spring

How long it lasts: 3 weeks/ 14 days

Origins: The people of old Mondstadt wanted to honor the creation of the winds. Do to this they planned a festival that at first was a serious religious affair that lasted for a week, before it became a 3 week festival.

Traditions week by week

Week 1

Day 1: The people go to the cathedral plaza or inside the cathedral for prayer and to present offerings of Calla Lillies, Snapdragons, Dandelion Wine,and Fruits of the Festival, Mint Jelly, Moon Pie, and Northern Apple Stew.

Day 2: A tournament between the knights is held from sunrise untill noon. Once the final round has ended, the winner is given a crown of Calla Lillies, Snapdragons, and being honored with the title of Ventus Fortitudinis (Latin: Wind of Strength). The winner is beilved to be blessed with good fortune for as long as they retain the title, the current title holder is Bennett for two years in a row.

Day 3: A tournament is held between Mondstadt's archers from noon to sunset. The winner gains the title of Sagittarius Ventus (Latin: Archer of the wind) along with a Calla Lilly and Sanpdragon flower crown. The winner is beilved to be blessed with good fortune for as long as they retain the title, the current title holder is Amber for four years in a row.

Day 4: From sunset to midnight a contest for bards is held and the winner gains the title of Vates Ventus (Latin: Bard of the wind). The winner is beilved to be blessed with good fortune for as long as they retain the title, the current title holder is Venti for six years.

Day 5: The three winners throw a ball, similar to the Ludi Harpastum games, but these balls have two flower crowns on each ball. The three winners throw the balls and those who cath any of the balls and gain one of the six flowers crowns is believed to share in the original winners good fortune. After this the people good to play games, eat, and drink.

Day 6: This day is most for prayers to local shrines or at the cathedral.

Day 7: People go and either, buy of pick Calla Lillies and Snapdragons and spend time making flower crowns for their friends, family, or lovers. A large feast is had and people gift the flower crowns they made to each other.

Week 2

Day 1: People return to the Cathedral area for another prayer and this time no offerings are put at the statue offering table.

Day 2: Those who are willing with travel out to the separate shrine near the Thousand Winds Temple in order to deliver written prayers of the people.

Day 3: In cetian locations in the more rual areas will have games set up, like wind glider races.

Day 4: This is a day with many bards who share their poems, song, and stories with people in the plaza during one act performances that last from noon until sunset. Once the sun sets, people will spend their night drinking and eating.

Day 5: This is another rest day.

Day 6: drunken partying with lots of food.

Day 7: people gather around campfires or fire places and tell stories.

Week 3

Day 1: The church choir sing a few songs to start off the final festival week.

Day 2: The petals of Snapdragons and Calla Lillies are picked from the flower and case to the wind carrying prayers, often down by those who do not wish to write their prayers.

Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6: drinking, feasting and games.

Day 7: The people all blow on dandelions, making wishes as the fluff blows in the wind. A large feast like at the beginning of the festival is held in oder to cap off the festival itself.

Liyue

The Creator has been celebrated on Lantern Rite on few occasions.

The Creator has a festival of their own called Lóngfèng jié (Chinese: Dragon and phoenix festival).

Time of year: Spring

How long it lasts: 15 days/ 1 week and a day

Origins: When the adepti roamed the land along side humans, they saw how the humans would worship the Creator on the same days of worship for Rex Lapis. Once he was told, Rex Lapis said that the people shall have a festival for only the Creator every spring for 10 days before it became strethed to 15 days over the centuries. The times during Lantern Rite where the Creator was worshipped, happened during times where the spring was to rainy and dark for the typical festival.

Day 1: The citizens gather at their nearest shrine and present offerings of Snapdragons, Violetgrass, Lotus Flower Crisp, Stir-Fried Shrimp, and Stone Harbor Delicacies. This happens after the people say a prayer for good fortune.

Day 2: a parade is held with a dragon and phoenix being made to look like it is dancing by being controlled by a team of performers.

Day 3: There are kite design contests for both children and adults. Once the designing is done, there is a contest for who's kite can go the highest and farthest.

Day 4: A feast is held to honor the Creator's role in making the Archons.

Day 5: The Liyue Opera puts on a performance of the Creators brith from the stars and Celestia.

Day 6: Bouquets of Violetgrass and Snapdragons are traded between those who are close.

Day 7: People place a Snapdragon or Violetgrass flower into the sea as a prayer for good fortune.

Day 8: The shrines are decorated with Snapdragon Violetgree garland and only drink offerings are placed this day.

Day 9: A feast is held to celebrate the Creator's role of making the adepti.

Day 10: The Liyue Opera puts on a performance about how the Creator made the Archons, adepti, and humanity.

Day 11: Prayers are written onto pieces of paper and are then burned, they believe the smoke carried the prayers upto Celestia for the Creator to grant.

Day 12: A contest is held for who can make the best sculpture of the Creator from sunrise to noon. The winner is given the title of Shítou yìshùjiā (Chinese: Artist of stone) and the current title holder is Madam Ping. From noon till dusk a tournament is held to see who is the strongest fighter, it was used to see who would be a good guardian to the Creator, the winner gets the title of Fènghuáng wèishì (Chinese: Protector of the Phoenix), current title holder is Beidou. From dusk till sunset a contest held to test who would be a good advisor for the Creator, the winning title is Míngxīng gùwèn (Chinese: Advisor of the Stars) current title holder is Xingqiu.

Day 13: People tell smaller stories and myths about the Creators interaction with Liyue's archon and adepti at home or on stage.

Day 14: A final feast is held for the Creator's role in making humanity and everything on the mortal world.

Day 15: The Liyue Opera puts on a performance on the death and rebirth of the Creator. Kites with prayers and wishes written on them will be released as the streets are lit with lanterns. In Qiaoying Village, wusho dances are held, in which Gaming is usually the main star.

Inazuma

The festival is called Hana-shin matsuri (Japanese: The flower god festival).

Time of year: Summer

How long it lasts: 10 days

Origins: The yokai started holding a small festival to thank the Creator for giving them life. When yokai and humanity became friends, the yokai shared some of the traditions with humans while making sure they were followed and done properly. Eventually the festival became a common part of life in Inazuma. It became even more important when the arachons of Inazuma were seen in public for the festival.

Day 1: A prayer service is held at Grand Narukami shirne in which special incense are burned and offerings of Dendrobium, Sakura, Sakura Mochi, Sakura Shrimp Crackers, and Tri-colored Dango.

Day 2: Kabuki theaters put on performances that tell important myths about the Creator, similar to the Liyue Opera.

Day 3: Sangonomiya shrine holds a prayer services with the same offerings as the first prayer day.

Day 4: A parade with floats moves through the streets of Inazuma city. Each float follows a set theme for the festival that year.

Day 5: The samurai and Inazuman warriors hold a contest of strength and skill. The winner gets the title of Hoshi no senshi (Japanes: Warrior of the stars), and current title holder is Kujo Sara for 4 years in a row.

Day 6: Onikabuto trading, collecting and fighting amounts children is seen as a way for them to test their strength, Itto is still trying to win.

Day 7 and Day 8: Are the rest days untill the evening, in which there is a large feast.

Day 9: Sakura and Dendrobium flowers are put floating into the sea and a way of wishing or prayer.

Day 10: Fireworks are fired into the sky as way to end the festival.

Sumeru

This is known as Laghayati Parvan (Sanskrit: Color Festival).

Time of year: Summer

How long it lasts: 7 days

Origins: The people of Sumeru believed that since they were closest to nature, that they were closer to the Creator. They treat this time of year like a 7 day funeral service as it is believed that the Creator drew their last in the Avidya Forest, however it has become more light hearted in the last 20 years.

Day 1: People clean their homes and the nearest shrine before leaving offerings of Sumeru Rose, Mourning Flower, Padisarah Pudding and Baklava along with prayers.

Day 2: People get markings on their body in symbolic patterns using an ink made with Henna berries.

Day 3: The people lights bonfires to tell stories about the Creator and Greater Lord Rukkhadevata. People in Sumeru ship them. (After Lord Rukkhadevata get erased, those stories are replaced with stories of a parent daughter relationship)

Day 4: People adorn their homes and local shrines with flower garlands and lanterns.

Day 5: People throw colored powder made with Henna berries at each other and decorate their homes and shrines with it.

Day 6: The colored Henna Berry powder is thrown as a welcoming gesture for the Creator.

Day 7: A clean up of all the colorful powder from the streets and buildings.

Fontaine

This is the Dieu créateur Carnival. (Fench: Creator gods carnival.)

Time of year: Late winter/early spring

How long it lasts: 7 days

Origins: It started as a way for devoted worshipers of the Creator to mark the end of their fasting period. Fontaine kept it like this for the whole time untill Furina became archon. Furina thought the Creator deserved a more fun and colorful celebration.

Day 1: Rainbow Roses and Romartime bouquets are gifted to shrines as offerings along with Fruity Trio and Fontaine Aspic.

Day 2: An 18 float parade goes through the streets lead by the king, queen, and carnivalon on floats. These floats are offer followed with performers from all nations.

Day 3: Another parade during those in costume on the floats throw up to 10,000 flowers into the crowd. During this time boquets of Rainbow Roses and Romartimes are exchanged between lovers, it is believed to bless the relationship with years of good luck so long as the partners are together. This parade is called the défilé de fleurs (French: flower parade).

Day 4: This is a repeat of the parade on day 2 expect the floats are decorated with lights of various colors. Known as Défilé de lumières (French: Parade of lights).

Day 5: On this night, people par take in games and drunken fun while dressed in costumes and masks.

Day 6: This is a day full of performances all having a common theme of myths about the Creator.

Day 7: The days in which people clean up from the weeks events of chaos and fun.

Currently all nations are either starting or preparing a festival to welcome the Creator back to Teyvat. I will explore these a bit more in the main plot line.

[justaslytheringal]

How to spot a... Hogwarts edition

How to spot a Slytherin

Common habitats: gothic cathedrals, 24-hour coffee shops, antique stores, art galleries, forbidden forests, the quietest spot in libraries, cemeteries, wandering around the city at night

Common behaviours: sarcastic, stubborn, bottles up a lot of their emotions, drinks coffee in the evening, swears a lot, has a small but close social circle, likes to dress up, has expensive taste, may suffer from resting b**** face, did I say sarcastic?

Other attributes: trench coats, leather journals, marble statues, fancy teacups, family heirlooms, black silk, French perfume, sly smirks, black and white photography, champagne

How to spot a Ravenclaw

Common habitats: overstocked libraries, fancy stationary shops, mysterious castles, vintage stores, under the stars, local museums, forests, quirky cafes

Common behaviours: writes pretty notes, has the best conversations at 2am, prefers nights in, gets frustrated if they don't get something first try, caffeine addicts, prefers cold weather, listens to classical music, has a million half-finished creative projects, likes to stargaze

Other attributes: leather bound notebooks, hot coffee, old books, the arts, fountain pens, tortoiseshell glasses, constellations, ink stains, vintage blazers, stolen glances, raindrops on windows

How to spot a Hufflepuff

Common habitats: independent book shops, cosy cafes, meadows, thrift stores, petting zoos, drive-in cinemas, local bakeries, snuggled up under their blanket

Common behaviours: always has a warm drink in hand, bakes when stressed, holds the door for strangers, tends to stick to their comfort shows/movies instead of watching something new, loves plants, dances in the kitchen

Other attributes: handwritten letters, fuzzy socks, quirky mugs, old sweaters, pressed flowers, bubble baths, vintage jewellery, sunlight cracking through curtains

How to spot a Gryffindor

Common habitats: outdoor concerts, record stores, old playgrounds, by the fireplace, retro diners, campsites, petting zoos, light festivals, treehouses, secret gardens

Common behaviours: gets along with everybody, takes the risk - no matter the odds, has an unbridled passion for oddly specific things, stands up for what's right, loves to make people laugh, nice but can come across as flirty

Other attributes: gold jewellery, fireworks, hot chocolate, quidditch matches, friendship bracelets, endless laughter, crunchy leaves on an autumn morning

[blueberrypancakesworld]

If it's not difficult for you, then can I request Claude frollo x a witch!fem!reader? The fact is that the reader is a witch with a beautiful and gorgeous voice, and she earns her living by singing. And during her street performance, Frollo falls in love with her. But after he finds out that she is a witch, a dilemma begins inside him between burning her or accepting and coming to terms with his feelings.

Singing of the untouched rose

warning : obsession, ambiguous fantasies, mention of witch burning, implied torture, no use of Y/n

Summary : The witch or just a pretty woman with flowers and a voice that made people happy. The judge who saw the streets full of sins laid his eyes on her it was clear for such a pretty flower there was only his strangulation on her or death by fire.

Info : Ahhh i missed writing for my favorite thank you anon for the request and i'm sorry it's so late but i just didn't have time so have fun with it ;)

cover from me ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Summer descended on Europe, the continent was bathed in green and every flower blossomed, the forests turned their splendid leaves to the sunshine and the atmosphere brightened.

A mood that commanded the people, commanded the children who played in the fields of flowers, the adults who treasured and sold the flowers and the old people who told stories of even more colorful times. A time that Paris also remembered, a time in the Middle Ages when people feared demons, werewolves and witches.

Demonic women with crooked backs and black, ugly teeth or wondrous shapes that lured men and children into their huts with lust and sweets. But there could be no such thing in Paris, not under the watchful eye of Judge Claude Frollo, who could see the whole of Paris from his presence, from Notre Dame Cathedral to the filthy slums where the filth gathered.

He had seen it all and soon he would be visiting the Festival of Flowers at dawn, the official start of summer. A festival that was too festive, too cheerfully euphoric and a festival where you could no longer rely on your senses.

A festival where jesters and jugglers could be seen making puppets dance, couples adorned with flowers and where every merchant suddenly showed his finest, ,,A festival of colorful hypocrisy," he had mumbled when morning came and he had left his balko after a cup of wine.

He could already hear the cheerful bells and other musicians from his front door, who had already begun to make music while Paris was decorated with colors. But he had to go there, it was his heavy burden to go to the sinners and sinners' houses to wave and smile when he blessed a child.

Hiding his face as often as he could behind the dark curtain of the carriage that drove through the city from the poorest neighborhoods to the richest, arriving to his life in the main square where most of the flowers were.

He smelled the sweetness, the fresh food, the laughter and the colorful surroundings and was about to raise his hand to make the carriage go faster…before he heard it. It was a song as bright and clear as the chirping of birds, heralding the dawn and hope of the seasons.

,,Stop the carriage at once!" he hissed and pulled aside the dark purple curtain to try to recognize this temptation, this bewitchment. His dark eyes swept across the square, searching for the source past the people, the old, the children and the sinful adults as he caught sight of it.

He saw her in a circle of flowers, her body moving sinuously like a flower, revealing herself in her colorful dress, her lips, her exposed neck making those beautiful sounds.

Opening the carriage door, he walked towards her slowly as if taken in, his guards simply pushed the guards aside until Frollo stood a few meters in front of her. ,,The singing flower fairy!" he heard the cries of a gauger juggling and throwing more flowers into the circle, a circle of beauty, a circle of his greed like hands that wanted to reach for her, his hands wanted to lay their hands on her.

Walking up her legs, which flashed every now and then under her dress in a drift, her arms and hands gripping her to see if this pretty creature would fight back up to her neck around which he wanted to put his hands.

The judge heard her singing, heard that sweet voice and in his conviction she heard her voice already haunting him at night full of unprotection.

He recognized the song recognized the song about summer the flowers but also recognized her true side suddenly saw the flash of the knowing smile on her lips as she came towards him and almost playfully seductively let her hands wander lightly over her body.

A closed rose, a hint of the devil's grasp on her body, he saw the witch's mark on her forearm. It had to be cauterized and he drew in his breath almost sharply and closed his hands into a fist as he imagined the screams from the dungeon from the torturer.

,,A performance that makes the summer chill from your beautiful, enchanting voice…Fairy," he said, choosing his last word as he reached into his pocket for his wallet, pulling himself together to keep the goaty hands that were being pushed back by the guards.

He let the gold coin that flashed in the light twist slightly between his fingers and held it in front of him, ,,Take the gold," he said and watched with a smile as she climbed over the flowers and came towards him.

The sweet smell surrounded him in an instant and he was sure it must be a witch, he had read the witches' hammer hundreds of times, he knew how to recognize a witch.

She had him, wanted him there was no doubt that he had to live out his power as a judge he should have spackled her on the hla so sweetly and gently she should have dragged her tears away with his fingers kissed away in the dark at night.

Before he put the torches to her body and saw her fall apart, her screams would fade away and he would free her soul from the devil…but now he had her in front of him.

Saw how she was in danger of being caught by the witch and wanted to take the golden coin as he held her tightly and pulled her back to him, his form crouching over her, his black cloak seeming to cover everything as he whispered to her, ,,You witch have sin in you. If you love your pretty neck you need only come to me…repent on your knees before God, show me you mean no harm and you will survive".

Words that brought fear and uncertainty into her pretty eyes as she tore herself away and picked up her things, not wanting to know if he would chase her, if he would hunt her like a hunter hunts his prey.

But the judge let her go, a satisfied smile on his lips as he took the closed rose she had left behind and, coat billowing in the wind, got back into the carriage, which returned to his residence at a cracking pace.

But his eyes had long since settled on the rose, ignoring the shouts and noises from outside, instead his fingers were already opening the unopened rose, forcibly separating the petals to have the inside untouched for himself, he would be the first to touch this pretty flower…he would touch it either in the darkness of his own righteousness or kissed by the fire burning before him.

Whichever it was with the violent severing of the pretty petals that flew from the carriage and were blown by the wind, fate decided the judge and his witch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@kislaxnd , @judgefrollo24 , @mommmysstuffff , @fantadym , @theangelicbright ,@badabingbadabong1 , @missmannequin , @slutformelatonin , @magmabayvi , @aliensthegreat

[smoke-and-silver]

The Ministry + The Divine Feminine

Expanding my headcanon of the clergy revering the divine feminine + how they treat the women in the ministry.

Yes, this is trans inclusive. 😊

A statue of Hypatia looks over the gardens, to honor those women killed for seeking knowledge.

The ghouls dip their heads gently to greet the women they speak to, and always address them with "ma'am" and "miss".

Every morning prayer to Satan also includes a prayer to the first human woman and rebel, Eve.

The ghouls learn how each nun takes her tea or coffee and serve it to them at meals. The ladies have their plates served first.

The library is filled with books about their philosophy and spiritual reverence of the feminine, womens history, and texts written by women that are older than anything you'd find in any public library on earth.

Sister Imperator has the ultimate say in decisions in the end. She has the deepest understanding of the ministry's philosophy and the Unholy Father communicates the most with her.

The clergy follows the pagan Wheel of the Year, with the spring holidays being especially important to them. The ghouls patiently allow the Sisters to adorn them with festive ribbons, flowers, and the like.

During one holiday you see the ghouls lined up, standing at attention to receive their orders for the day, with the adornments still hanging from their horns and tails.

The ladies have rituals and circle dances on certain holidays or important moon phases. The ghouls stand guard around the perimeter of the cathedral to make sure nothing interrupts.

Both the sisters and the ghouls take care of the land surrounding the cathedral and try to give back to it when they can.

The most exciting way of doing this is the bloodlettings the ghouls enact on those who have wronged the Sisters or the church, spilling their blood onto the ground to reinvigorate the soil.

[rosepetalsinwinter]

Meant to Be — Bucky Barnes (6)

Chapter 6 — Could Winter Be a Feeling?

Pairing: mafia!bucky x innocent!reader

Word count:  2,142

Summary: A secret is revealed. Alas, our two love birds finally meet.

Warnings: depressive thoughts, betrayal, abrupt ending.

Note: A short chapter. I ended it where I did for dramatic effect. The next one will be a lot longer! Enjoy!!

Ao3│Wattpad│Ko-fi

Main Masterlist│Series Masterlist│Series Playlist

Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

We feel the chill north winds coarse through the home despite the locked and bolted doors... this is winter, which nonetheless brings its own delights.

— Antonio Vivaldi

May 3rd, 2018

Under different circumstances, the girl might have found St. Patrick's Cathedral incredibly beautiful and enchanting. The grey building had completely transformed from the flowers and hanging lights decorating the space for the upcoming festivity. She was idling in the corner of the sitting room, waiting for her father to retrieve her.

Her bridesmaids were in the front hall, lined up with their respective groomsmen at the entrance. Fleur was nowhere to be found.

The girl shifted in her chair, feeling restless. She accidentally caught her reflection in the small mirror on the wall and froze. Her complete image stared back at her, and she barely recognized herself. Her painted lips were downturned in a partial gloom, and dark circles peeked through her glowy skin. Her veil created a halo around her head, bathing her in an air of innocence.

She looked like a bride.

She didn't look like herself.

The girl shot from her seat, suddenly feeling hot. Her lower body came into full view, displaying her figure. Her dress engulfed her, feeling too tight in some places and loose in others. She towered in her heels, like a statue or awkward skyscraper, swaying this way and that.

Eventually, the heat became too much to handle. The girl hastily walked out, staggering like a drunkard, until she found the restroom. She sighed in relief once cool water came in contact with her scorching skin. She let the water stream down her elbow, as close to the sleeve as she could risk.

Already she was feeling better. The girl wouldn't dare ruin her makeup; instead, she ran the back of her hands against her neck and ears, relishing in the coolness it offered. A growing sound in the hall caught her attention— feminine voices nearing the restroom.

What would they think after finding the bride in such state of disarray?

She immediately went into the first stall to avoid a confrontation.

The clacking of heels echoed harshly, and from a crack in the stall door, the girl saw two women enter.

"I still can't believe that bastard is getting married, Nebula," said the woman in the green dress.

"I know, and so suddenly!" Nebula exclaimed. She was wearing blue. "Think he got her pregnant, Gamora?"

Two women were fixing their makeup and talking about her, though she couldn't find it in herself to care. Let them think she was pregnant.

"No way! James Barnes is a lot more careful than that."

"Well," Nebula said mischievously, "if she isn't pregnant yet, she will be soon."

The girl tuned the rest of the conversation out and leaned her head against the stall. She didn't want to hear them talk about her future as if they knew more. She didn't want to listen to them talk about kids.

Her feet were starting to hurt, so she focused on that. She hoped she wouldn't trip in front of everyone. On second thought, it wouldn't be so bad if she did. Maybe, just maybe, the wedding would be postponed if she twisted her ankle badly enough. Or, perhaps, it would be better to get the whole ordeal over with.

"You didn't hear about her mother?" Nebula suddenly hissed.

The mention of her mother broke the girl out of her stupor. She became hyper-aware of every word.

"Eleanor Burgundy? Doesn't she help host the American Ballet Theatre Gala every year? She's pretty."

"Was pretty."

The girl stopped breathing.

"Didn't you hear? She's dead. I went to the funeral last Sunday."

"Shit, Nebula!"

"Yeah. The Barnes were all there, with the Rogers. I even saw Tony Stark. I didn't see the daughter, though."

The girl stumbled, stepping backwards. She heard the words loud and clear but couldn't understand them. She felt cold all over, a stark contrast from before. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard Gamora ask something.

"How'd she die?"

Nebula's voice dropped to a conspiring whisper. "She was murdered."

The girl tittered. She couldn't help it. The moment the words registered, the girl couldn't keep her body shaking as she tried to suppress her laugh. To think she was under the impression the worst had already passed. God was really testing her.

One of them was washing her hands, and the girl's laughter was lost under the sound of the faucet.

"You didn't hear it from me, but apparently, Mrs. Burgundy was against the marriage. So James Barnes killed her."

"It was Eleanor's idea," her father had said. "Your marriage to James Barnes was her idea."

"Jesus!" Their voices moved away as if they were leaving. "That's messed up, even for James. And she's still marrying him?" The door shut behind them, and they were gone after shaking her entire world.

The girl laughed loudly now that she was alone.

"Bahamas," her father had told her.

"What is she doing in the Bahama?"

"Staying away from you."

The girl covered her mouth, giggling through her fingers. After a moment, her laughter ended with a sudden sob. Her breaths were coming in too quickly and not quickly enough. The girl dug her manicured nails into her palms, focusing on the sharp pain radiating through her hands rather than the crushing weight on her chest.

Was she sick? She felt sick. Like she was congested and overcome with the flu, making her ears ring and her head heavy.

She threw open the stall and fell against the counter, dry sobbing between crazed laughter. A minute passed—maybe two—before she straightened her shoulders. Her leer fizzled away, replaced instead by a numbness that comfortably settled in her bones. She was tired.

Her feet moved of their own volition, and she found herself in front of a set of large double doors. The beginning notes of an orchestra emerged from the other side.

"There you are," her father said. "I was just coming to get you." His voice sounded far away as if he were on a different planet entirely. He lowered her veil, then moved her around until she was on his left, placing her arm in his. "Ready?"

The girl must have nodded because Danial took a deep breath and secured his grip.

"Remember to smile." Her father's voice echoed in her ear, and she swivelled her head toward him. They were standing in front of the doors leading to the altar—to James Barnes. Any moment the doors would open, and the girl would be forced to vow her life away to a man she did not love.

She looked her father in the eyes. "I won't ever forgive you."

Danial scoffed. "You say that now, but marriage will change your view of life. What I did won't seem so bad."

She didn't let her gaze waver. "Is Mama dead? I heard she died."

Her father visibly stiffened. "Where did you hear that?"

The doors opened, and soft music reached her ears. Her father looked at her for a moment longer before he cleared his throat, diverting his gaze to the hundreds of people trying to get a peek at the bride.

"That she was murdered."

Her father abruptly dragged her forward, and her words were confirmed. His face was stoic, his jaw clenched, and his movements choppy.

She couldn't look away, trying desperately to find a lie in his expression. They were halfway down the aisle when a camera flash made her blink, and she finally diverted her gaze.

The girl might have found the Cathedral beautiful if the room wasn't three shades too bright and spinning like a top. The carpeted floor beneath her was a deep red, considerably contrasted to her white strappy heels and manicured toes.

So lost in thought, the girl barely realized they had reached the altar. Danial placed a forced kiss on her forehead and shoved her hands in her fiancé's cold ones.

The girl looked at her father one last time, knowing she would never see him again. She was surprised to see tears in his eyes and a hesitancy there that she would have never expected from him.

It was only for a second—barely—but her gaze moved behind her father's head, and she recognized a face she thought she would never see.

Dove waved at the girl with a hesitant smile. She stood out amongst a sea of neutrals and pastels in her red, cowl-neck dress. Her other hand was entwined with Peter—no, Pietro's. The girl's mouth parted with a silent gasp. She didn't want to believe it, but the evidence was hard to ignore. She recalled how adamant Dove was to become her friend when the two met all those years ago. Dove was pretty, strong, and outgoing. She was smart, with an unusual affinity for mobster movies. The signs had been there all along.

Her two best friends sat together solemnly as if they hadn't betrayed her, and they dared to smile and wave like she wasn't slowly deteriorating from the inside. Was she finally all alone in the world?

There was Fleur; Fleur, with her mysterious behaviour and tragic past. Fleur, who pretended not to know certain things, and who somehow knew everything.

The girl whipped her head to the front and fixed her eyes on the top button of her fiancé's suit. She noticed with numb amusement that James' white dress shirt was ruffled, and he was wearing a bow instead of a tie.

His grip tightened, and he led the girl up a step toward the altar. He reached for her then and lifted the veil away from her face, seeing her properly for the first time.

Somehow, it didn't shock the girl that the man in front of her was the same one she'd seen in the hotel's lobby earlier. Her ability to be surprised had lowered immensely. James, however, looked like he'd seen a ghost. His eyes, startling as before, were revealed to be a steel blue. The girl's eyes drifted to James' pink lips when he licked them, but she had to look away when he gulped audibly. She faced the altar and nodded numbly at the priest as a greeting.

James' hands were big in hers, rough and calloused, while hers were soft and pliant. The girl wondered how much innocent blood flowed between the lines of his palms—if it was as red as her father's or as thick.

Theirs was a traditional ceremony. The Barnes were Eastern Orthodox, a fact that made her laugh when she first learned it. It was a trend in literature, it seemed, for evil and familial men to be religious in certain aspects. Did they think believing in a God absolved them of their sins?

The priest droned on, reciting prayer after prayer, performing one ritual after the next. The girl followed along, though she wasn't paying any attention. She was stuck on a single detail that somehow slipped past her before.

She recognized him—James Barnes. Something about him felt oddly familiar, maybe the way he said her name.

"I do."

Last week someone had said her name the same way, with the same cadence, tone, and pace. She was drunk the night of the party but, somehow, remembered a pair of hands on her waist and warm breath on her neck. Her name; said the same way, with the same cadence, tone, and pace.

She had met him before, had she not? That night at the party.

"Hey," he asked softly, dipping his head to look her in the eyes, "you okay, baby?"

Those same eyes. Those same lips.

"I do," she replied mindlessly. James removed her engagement ring and transferred it to her right hand. Then, he revealed another band, just as big, ugly, and heavy, and slid it onto her left ring finger. She did the same with him.

A feeling in her gut surfaced. One of dread and fear.

James Barnes killed her mother. And she was now married to him.

"You may kiss the bride."

James tugged her closer until she had no choice but to look at him, and he smiled down at her. His eyes drifted to her lips before licking his own.

Everything in the girl was screaming at her to run. To never look back. James Barnes was dangerous, and she would ultimately die a slow and painful death if she was associated with him.

James' lips were right there. So close the girl could almost taste them. Though, she never got to.

The last thing she saw before the world turned black were his steel-blue eyes, and she thought, with sudden clarity, that if he were not a monster, she could easily find a safe place amongst his beautiful blue.

Instead, she found black.

Note: I feel the need to apologize. Sorry  :(  :/

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Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

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[useless-catalanfacts]

Fountains decorated for the ou com balla tradition in Barcelona, Catalonia. Photos from Cultura Popular Barcelona.

On the festivity of Corpus, some towns and cities in Catalonia have a curious tradition. Fountains are decorated with flowers and cherries, and then an empty egg is placed on top of the water source to make it spin. In the Catalan language, this tradition is called l'ou com balla ("the dancing egg").

It's unknown how this tradition got started, we only know for sure that it started in Barcelona. The oldest written proof of it is a document from the year 1636 where the Barcelona cathedral buys eggs for the Corpus festivity. Some historians claim another source from 1440 could also be talking about it but it's unsure.

There are three theories on what it could mean. Take into account that the Feast of Corpus Christi is one of the most important Catholic religious holidays, celebrated in May or June (moves according to the moon calendar) to celebrate Christ's presence in the Eucharist. The Eucharist is a part of the religious service where believers eat a bread and drink a wine that is believed to be Christ's body and blood, respectively. Here are the three theories:

The most widespread interpretation is that the egg represents the sacramental bread and the fountain with water represents the cup with Christ's blood. The cherries and other fruit that decorate it would be Christ's blood.

Others believe it's a representation of the fullness of spring, because the egg, the water and the abundance of flowers and fruits are a symbol of the fecundity and regeneration that takes place in spring.

Some historians theorize that its origin is more simple: the nobles of Montcada street in Barcelona were bored while waiting for the Corpus procession to start, and they did this like a game.

[anoddreindeer]

Auld Acquaintance

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and days of auld lang syne…

Jonathan hummed gently along to the tune as he walked the streets of the city. The words had changed a bit over the years, but the tune had remained largely the same. And it was a comforting touch point, a tradition that had withstood the test of time longer than he had.

Lights illuminated the streets, and even the shadows were soft in the reflected shine. Garlands hung in gay display, and people thronged the streets even at this late hour. The old tune rose from many a throat, even as cups were raised in salute to the year whose time ticked to a close with each passing minute.

And surely you'll buy your pint-cup, and surely I'll buy mine! And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet, for days of auld lang syne…

Jonathan paused to let a group of revelers spill past him, their feet clattering on the old, cobbled streets as many other feet had before them. Their faces shone under the streetlights, red with the bottle being passed around and the happiness of good company.

The year had been long, in the way that years were while living them, but not nearly so difficult as others gone by. In truth, much had happened that history would forget and little enough for it to remember; Jonathan had lived through enough interesting times that he found he much preferred these sorts of years. He would not shy away from a challenge, when it came, but as a doctor his job was to do the least harm and times such as these reminded him why he had made his oath in the first place.

We two have run about the hill, and picked the daisies fine; but we've wandered many a weary foot, since days of aul lang syne…

The streets he walked through now were quieter, though no less brightly lit. The businesses here were not shops, nor were there many family homes. Instead, quiet cathedrals of business and finance - and a few for God Himself - boasted tasteful decorations, icicles undisturbed and the occasional poinsettia and holly berry making bright punctuation to the serious white, dark green, and grey.

Those who worked here had already gone home for the holidays, and the businesses had been closed since Christmas. The churches had seen foot traffic, respectful steps making a clear trail to the door along paths that had at one point been shoveled free of snow and made safe to walk upon; now new flurries were eagerly colonizing the space, expanding outward from the drifted banks alongside.

We two have paddled in the stream, from morning sun til dine; but seas between us broad have roared since days of auld lang syne…

The streets were darker here, and the festive decorations limited. While the churchyard saw plenty of visitors in the daylight hours - such as there were, at the end of the year - the carols and drinking of the night had no place in these quiet spaces. The years had run out, for these inhabitants, and while time marched inexorably onward they did not grow old.

The gate was closed, but the edifice posed little difficulty to one such as Jonathan. He was making his way among the gravestones between one breath and the next, the sounds of the city largely fading even from his own keen ears. Poinsettias rested at gravesides, and sprigs of holly sat next to faded plastic flowers nearly buried in new snow. The electric lighting here was few and far in between, but not wholly missing. The shadows were deeper, and the snow glowed in the light of the moon.

And here's a hand, my trusty friend! And give me a hand o' thine! And we'll take a right good-will draught, for days of auld lang syne…

"For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne. We'll take a cup of kindness yet for days of auld lang syne."

Jonathan's voice was rough as he sang the old, familiar chorus and came to a stop in front of a trio of graves. On the first grave he placed a single yellow rose; on the second grave, a white one. For a long moment he stood in silent contemplation, and then on the third grave he placed a rose so deeply red it was nearly black.

"Mother. Mary."

He paused.

"McCullum. it's been too long…"

[mikimeiko]

Day 15 - Brno (Czechia)

I do manage to wake up earlier than yesterday! I decide to go check out the (formerly) industrial part of the city, starting with a walk alongside the Svitava river: there's a footpath/bike lane that goes along an old rail track that used to serve the factories (mostly textile mills) built on the riverside.

It's very pretty but even with no direct sun the weather is still pretty hot (and humid today), and even in the shade of the trees of a small park on the way it's not pleasant enough to just stop for a while and read.

So I decide to make the most of my 24h ticket that will expire in a couple of hours and go to Stránská Skála, a rock formation just out of the city (there's a tram that goes there. I LOVE taking trams to places outside cities). I wasn't sure what to expect, but I end up hiking to the top following a gentle enough path through trees and fields full of flowers.

I'm sure the view would be better if it wasn't overcast, but on the other hand most of the path is out of the trees and it would have been very hard to walk in the scorching sun. For the entire time I'm there I only see a couple of people, but I guess if you live here you just don't chose a day like today to go on the rock.

(I love places like these, gentle hikes that most people can enjoy. I live in a superflat valley right next to the Alps, the hikes that are usually available to me are INTENSE. But I don't want intense! I want gentle, calm and beautiful. That's why I particularly enjoyed walking the coast paths in the UK, I discovered a love of hiking there that I never thought I would have).

In the afternoon the sky clears up, the humidity lowers and the breeze comes back: it's nice enough that I decide to check out the bit of old town I haven't seen yet (there are still parts to be seen! This city is big!) and the park that surrounds Spilberk fortress.

It's a beautiful park but it's literally all up hill, and most of the paths are quite steep. I sit on a bench reading for a bit, enjoying the atmosphere. Then I climb up a little more, and I'm rewarded with this beautiful view of the cathedral (I could very likely get better views from higher up but HAVE I MENTIONED HOW STEEP THE PATHS ARE?).

I pass through the old town hall and I'm reminded that I haven't shared with you the most beautiful dragon in the world!

When I took this picture there was a Spanish family there with a tiny kid, and the kid was like "a crocodile! No... a dragon!"

I go back for the last time to the beer festival, and have halušky with sauerkraut and smoked bacon. And a radler. And yes, SUMMER OF THE RADLER. I still haven't find one as good as the watermelon one from Vienna, but radler beats both beer and lemonade right now. (I tried lemonade yesterday, it was good but definitely too sweet).

I keep thinking this is my last night in Czechia but it's not! I'll be in Plzen tomorrow night! Still sad to say goodbye to Brno, though, I think it might be my favourite city in this trip.

[kharrisdawndancer]

DWC May 2023 - Day 2 - Divine/Tragedy - Khaeris

There were plants everywhere and Khaeris appreciated it. She spent time loitering by the decorative planters dotted through the city, taking in the wide variety of lush botanicals. Zuldazar still showed some scars from the Fourth War, but the city wore them well and knew how to compensate.

Little shrines to a variety of loa had flowers laid in offering, coins gathered in bowls, and incense rose through the air. If there was a city more steeped in ‘divine’, Khaeris had never been there. Stormwind might have her Cathedral, and Shattrath her Naaru, but it was Zuldazar where every corner had its god and worship in all forms threaded through everyday life.

She was staying with Ahuatli for the time being, enjoying guesting at her friend’s estate and immersing herself in her friend’s life. Khaeris knew she could lose days and days with the gardens and markets. She picked up trinkets, and even a little ‘trash’--depositing them at the shrines of loa that called for it.

She’d come for a festival, unsure if she was going to be as heartily welcomed as Ahuatli always did--but she trusted her friend to know her business, and Khaeris had been folded into the celebrations as easily as any.

For a city so alive, so verdant, it felt strange to know Bwonsamdi was the Queen’s Loa now.

Khaeris looked over the plaza from her perch high up on a wall. Her feet dangled and idly kicked over the edge. Ahualti was at rehearsal and Khaeris had been left to her own devices. She could see far across the city; perhaps her mind should have been on Pa’ku, many of her children taking flight around the city, or on Jani as she watched urchins pick-pocketing shoppers below her. In truth, her mind was on Bwonsamdi. On death and possible tragedy, across the world in the Dragon Isles.

She had thrown herself toward Ahualti’s hospitality to keep herself out of trouble. Pollux had asked her to stay away from the Dragon Isles and the dangers there, he didn’t want to have to worry about her while he was away. She had done as he’d asked, though it chaffed and did nothing to stop her own worry for him. Or Pyraelia. Or anyone else she knew who had gone.

So, quietly, and perhaps unwisely, Khaeris said a fervent prayer to Bwonsamdi for her twice death-touched lover.

@daily-writing-challenge

mentions: @darkspear-dancers @polluxhale

[a-998h]

Five

Creator POV

After an amazing breakfast, Venti takes me into the city. He drags me all over the place to see things, but I notice a few things, mainly that there are Snapdragons and Calla Lillies everywhere, and people are walking into the cathedral with Apple Cider, Dandelion Wine, Fruits of the Festival, and Mint Jelly,Moon Pie,and Northern Apple Stew. I realize... the shrine I saw when I first came to Mondstadt, then another realization hits me... Sumeru, Liyue, and Mondstadt was preparing for a festival and something tells me it's to worship me!

"Hey, Venti what's with the flowers and the large amount of people entering the cathedral?" I ask, hoping that my fear was unnecessary paranoia.

"Your grace, everyone's preparing for a festival," Venti explained.

"Oh, what's the festival for?" I ask, now genuinely curious about this festival.

"It's to welcome you back!" Venti cheerly yelled.

Well, fuck.... That is all I thought. At this point I feel like I'm gonna pass out.

Noelle's POV

I was helping Amber decorate the outside of headquarters. From the latter, I see the bard Venti talking with the Creator. The two seem to be having a pleasant conversation. Venti was probably explaining the festival to the Creator, and then I see the Creator falling to the ground.

I climb down the latter and rush to the scene with Amber following behind me.

"Is the Creator ok?" I ask.

A plus is still present, so that means the Creator is alive. I know ever since Barbara got her vision she has had the ability to heal people, I've seen her do it before.

With Amber's help I put the Creator on my back. I rush to the Chirch while Amber stays behind to question Venti.

"Noelle, what brings you he- Oh my!" Barbara shouts.

Explaining what happened I beg Barbara to use her healing music. She nods and does just that. At that time Amber, Jean, and other knights were running inside the cathedral.

"Is the Creator healed deaconess Barbara?" A knight asked.

Barbara nodded but told us to wait until the Creator woke up. I was worried, what if it was something fatal. No Barbara can heal serious injuries on the knights, how is this an different. I notice a scar on the Creator's hand, the scar from when the Creator first came to Mondstadt. It was sad to see such a mighty god be reduced to someone so fragile. The knights leave and I follow behind. I can't stand to see the Creator this weak.

Venti's POV

As I walk into the cathedral I see Jean and a group of knights leaving. Me and Jean share a look before I walk inside. I see Barbara looking over the Creator's sleeping body.

"Is the Creator going to be ok?" I asked her.

She nods, and tells me that no head damage happened when the Creator fainted. Looking as the Creator sleeps, I feel like crying. It's not fair! Why did the Creator have to be taken from us at all? The Creator did so much for the gods and humans alike and then fate pulled them away! Now that the Creator is back, only fragile and weak like any human. Petting the Creator's hair I think to the bright side, soon the Creator can't leave us again.

[secretmellowblog]

hey love your blog!

i’ve got a really random specific question.

so I read les mis over 10 years ago and there was a passage in it i’ve been trying to find since but i just can’t… it was a description of a garden and i remember it being soooo lyrical and beautiful but for the life of me i can’t find it again …. any chance it rings a bell????

Gardens are a big motif in Les Mis, and there are lots of lyrical descriptions of gardens in the book! So it is hard to say, but- I'll put other possibilities in the tags, but I think the most likely candidate is probably the longest and most lyrical garden description we get in the book-- the description of the garden in the Rue Plumet, where Jean Valjean lives with Cosette. This is Volume IV, Book 3, Chapter 3, "Foliis Ac Frondibus":

There was a stone bench in one corner, one or two mouldy statues, several lattices which had lost their nails with time, were rotting on the wall, and there were no walks nor turf; but there was enough grass everywhere. Gardening had taken its departure, and nature had returned. Weeds abounded, which was a great piece of luck for a poor corner of land. The festival of gilliflowers was something splendid. Nothing in this garden obstructed the sacred effort of things towards life; venerable growth reigned there among them. The trees had bent over towards the nettles, the plant had sprung upward, the branch had inclined, that which crawls on the earth had gone in search of that which expands in the air, that which floats on the wind had bent over towards that which trails in the moss; trunks, boughs, leaves, fibres, clusters, tendrils, shoots, spines, thorns, had mingled, crossed, married, confounded themselves in each other; vegetation in a deep and close embrace, had celebrated and accomplished there, under the well-pleased eye of the Creator, in that enclosure three hundred feet square, the holy mystery of fraternity, symbol of the human fraternity. This garden was no longer a garden, it was a colossal thicket, that is to say, something as impenetrable as a forest, as peopled as a city, quivering like a nest, sombre like a cathedral, fragrant like a bouquet, solitary as a tomb, living as a throng.

In Floréal this enormous thicket, free behind its gate and within its four walls, entered upon the secret labor of germination, quivered in the rising sun, almost like an animal which drinks in the breaths of cosmic love, and which feels the sap of April rising and boiling in its veins, and shakes to the wind its enormous wonderful green locks, sprinkled on the damp earth, on the defaced statues, on the crumbling steps of the pavilion, and even on the pavement of the deserted street, flowers like stars, dew like pearls, fecundity, beauty, life, joy, perfumes. At midday, a thousand white butterflies took refuge there, and it was a divine spectacle to see that living summer snow whirling about there in flakes amid the shade. There, in those gay shadows of verdure, a throng of innocent voices spoke sweetly to the soul, and what the twittering forgot to say the humming completed. In the evening, a dreamy vapor exhaled from the garden and enveloped it; a shroud of mist, a calm and celestial sadness covered it; the intoxicating perfume of the honeysuckles and convolvulus poured out from every part of it, like an exquisite and subtle poison; the last appeals of the woodpeckers and the wagtails were audible as they dozed among the branches; one felt the sacred intimacy of the birds and the trees; by day the wings rejoice the leaves, by night the leaves protect the wings.

In winter the thicket was black, dripping, bristling, shivering, and allowed some glimpse of the house. Instead of flowers on the branches and dew in the flowers, the long silvery tracks of the snails were visible on the cold, thick carpet of yellow leaves; but in any fashion, under any aspect, at all seasons, spring, winter, summer, autumn, this tiny enclosure breathed forth melancholy, contemplation, solitude, liberty, the absence of man, the presence of God; and the rusty old gate had the air of saying: “This garden belongs to me.”

It was of no avail that the pavements of Paris were there on every side, the classic and splendid hotels of the Rue de Varennes a couple of paces away, the dome of the Invalides close at hand, the Chamber of Deputies not far off; the carriages of the Rue de Bourgogne and of the Rue Saint-Dominique rumbled luxuriously, in vain, in the vicinity, in vain did the yellow, brown, white, and red omnibuses cross each other’s course at the neighboring crossroads; the Rue Plumet was the desert; and the death of the former proprietors, the revolution which had passed over it, the crumbling away of ancient fortunes, absence, forgetfulness, forty years of abandonment and widowhood, had sufficed to restore to this privileged spot ferns, mulleins, hemlock, yarrow, tall weeds, great crimped plants, with large leaves of pale green cloth, lizards, beetles, uneasy and rapid insects; to cause to spring forth from the depths of the earth and to reappear between those four walls a certain indescribable and savage grandeur; and for nature, which disconcerts the petty arrangements of man, and which sheds herself always thoroughly where she diffuses herself at all, in the ant as well as in the eagle, to blossom out in a petty little Parisian garden with as much rude force and majesty as in a virgin forest of the New World.

Nothing is small, in fact; any one who is subject to the profound and penetrating influence of nature knows this. Although no absolute satisfaction is given to philosophy, either to circumscribe the cause or to limit the effect, the contemplator falls into those unfathomable ecstasies caused by these decompositions of force terminating in unity. Everything toils at everything.Algebra is applied to the clouds; the radiation of the star profits the rose; no thinker would venture to affirm that the perfume of the hawthorn is useless to the constellations. Who, then, can calculate the course of a molecule? How do we know that the creation of worlds is not determined by the fall of grains of sand? Who knows the reciprocal ebb and flow of the infinitely great and the infinitely little, the reverberations of causes in the precipices of being, and the avalanches of creation? The tiniest worm is of importance; the great is little, the little is great; everything is balanced in necessity; alarming vision for the mind. There are marvellous relations between beings and things; in that inexhaustible whole, from the sun to the grub, nothing despises the other; all have need of each other. The light does not bear away terrestrial perfumes into the azure depths, without knowing what it is doing; the night distributes stellar essences to the sleeping flowers. All birds that fly have round their leg the thread of the infinite. Germination is complicated with the bursting forth of a meteor and with the peck of a swallow cracking its egg, and it places on one level the birth of an earthworm and the advent of Socrates. Where the telescope ends, the microscope begins. Which of the two possesses the larger field of vision? Choose. A bit of mould is a pleiad of flowers; a nebula is an ant-hill of stars. The same promiscuousness, and yet more unprecedented, exists between the things of the intelligence and the facts of substance. Elements and principles mingle, combine, wed, multiply with each other, to such a point that the material and the moral world are brought eventually to the same clearness. The phenomenon is perpetually returning upon itself. In the vast cosmic exchanges the universal life goes and comes in unknown quantities, rolling entirely in the invisible mystery of effluvia, employing everything, not losing a single dream, not a single slumber, sowing an animalcule here, crumbling to bits a planet there, oscillating and winding, making of light a force and of thought an element, disseminated and invisible, dissolving all, except that geometrical point, the I; bringing everything back to the soul-atom; expanding everything in God, entangling all activity, from summit to base, in the obscurity of a dizzy mechanism, attaching the flight of an insect to the movement of the earth, subordinating, who knows? Were it only by the identity of the law, the evolution of the comet in the firmament to the whirling of the infusoria in the drop of water. A machine made of mind. Enormous gearing, the prime motor of which is the gnat, and whose final wheel is the zodiac.

[paramedicabroad]

Historic Centre of Cordoba

Join me on a virtual exploration of the Historic Center of Cordoba in Spain, a UNESCO World Heritage Site that weaves together centuries of history, architectural brilliance, and a harmonious blend of cultures. Let's wander through the narrow streets and discover the enchanting beauty that defines this Andalusian gem.

Cordoba's Historic Center earned UNESCO World Heritage status in 1984, recognizing its outstanding universal value and the preservation of its architectural and cultural legacy. The inscription celebrates the city's role as a meeting point for different cultures over the centuries.

Behold the Mezquita-Cathedral, an architectural marvel that encapsulates the city's history. Originally a mosque during the Islamic period, the structure later transformed into a cathedral, embodying the coexistence of Islamic and Christian influences in Cordoba.

Explore the Alcázar, a fortress that witnessed the fusion of Moorish and Christian cultures. With its beautiful gardens, reflecting pools, and historic significance, the Alcázar narrates tales of medieval power struggles and cultural exchange.

Navigate the labyrinthine streets of the Jewish Quarter, or Judería, where whitewashed houses, cobblestone streets, and charming squares create an enchanting atmosphere. The Synagogue of Cordoba, a hidden gem, stands as a testament to the city's Jewish heritage.

Stroll down the iconic Calleja de las Flores, a picturesque alley adorned with vibrant flowers that frame the view of the Mezquita-Cathedral. This charming lane captures the essence of Cordoba's Andalusian charm.

Participate in the annual Patio Festival, where residents open their homes to showcase the beauty of their traditional Andalusian patios. Bursting with flowers and adorned with intricate tilework, these patios offer a glimpse into Cordoba's private architectural treasures.

Indulge in the culinary delights of Cordoba, where traditional Andalusian cuisine takes center stage. From savory tapas to the refreshing flavors of salmorejo, the city's gastronomy is a delightful journey through the region's rich culinary heritage.

In conclusion, Cordoba's Historic Center beckons us to unravel the layers of its history, where diverse cultures have left an indelible mark on its streets and monuments. When you're ready for a virtual stroll through the ages, Cordoba promises to captivate and inspire. 🏰🌺🇪🇸

[badchatgptfics]

Professor Sycamore x Reader - A Proposal

Prompt Given - Write me a fanfiction in which Professor Sycamore from Pokemon XY proposes to his girlfriend of 7 years, Y/N, and then fast forward to their wedding and describe the ceremony

Fic Generated -

Professor Augustine Sycamore, the esteemed Pokémon researcher, paced nervously in his study. Today was the day he had been eagerly anticipating for years—the day he would propose to his beloved partner of seven years, Y/N. His heart raced with a mix of excitement and anxiety as he carefully rehearsed the words he had planned to say.

Outside, the sun cast a warm glow over the bustling streets of Lumiose City, the air alive with the energy of Pokémon trainers and their companions. But within the confines of Sycamore's study, the only thing that mattered was the love he held for Y/N.

Taking a deep breath, Sycamore straightened his bowtie and made his way to the garden where Y/N was waiting. A picturesque scene greeted him—a garden adorned with colorful blooms, their fragrance carried on a gentle breeze. Y/N stood beneath a flower-laden arch, their eyes lighting up as they caught sight of Sycamore.

As Sycamore approached, his heart soared at the sight of Y/N's radiant smile. He took their hands in his, his voice filled with genuine emotion. "Y/N, my love, these past seven years have been the most extraordinary journey of my life. You have brought immeasurable joy and warmth into my heart, and I am eternally grateful for your love and companionship."

Y/N's eyes shimmered with tears of happiness, their grip tightening around Sycamore's hand.

Sycamore continued, his voice filled with unwavering conviction. "Y/N, will you do me the honor of becoming my partner for life? Will you marry me?"

A moment of breathless anticipation hung in the air as Y/N's eyes met Sycamore's. Then, a tearful smile spread across their face, and they nodded, their voice barely a whisper. "Yes, Augustine. Yes, I will marry you."

In that instant, the garden seemed to burst into jubilant celebration, as if the very flowers and Pokémon bore witness to the union of two souls bound by love. Sycamore slipped a beautiful ring onto Y/N's finger, a symbol of their promise and devotion.

As time passed, wedding preparations filled the days leading up to their special day. Friends and loved ones gathered in Lumiose City from near and far, coming together to celebrate the love between Professor Sycamore and Y/N.

Finally, the momentous day arrived. The grand Lumiose Cathedral stood resplendent, its stained-glass windows casting a kaleidoscope of colors onto the pews filled with guests. The scent of fragrant blooms filled the air, as if nature itself was anointing the occasion with its blessing.

Sycamore stood at the altar, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and joy. He anxiously looked toward the grand entrance, where Y/N would soon appear in all their resplendent glory.

And there she was, walking down the aisle, her eyes sparkling with love and happiness. Y/N's gown flowed like a river of lace and satin, adorned with delicate floral accents that mirrored the beauty of the garden where their journey had begun.

As Y/N reached Sycamore's side, their hands intertwined, a silent promise passing between them. The ceremony commenced, and heartfelt vows were exchanged, each word a testament to the profound love they shared.

Time seemed to stand still as Sycamore and Y/N exchanged rings, sealing their commitment to one another. The luminescent sunlight bathed them in its warm embrace, casting a halo of radiant light around their union.

Cheers erupted throughout the cathedral as the newlyweds shared their first kiss, sealing their vows with a sweet and tender moment. The joy

ous sounds of celebration filled the air, reverberating through the hearts of all who witnessed the love between Sycamore and Y/N.

The festivities continued well into the night, the Lumiose City skyline ablaze with fireworks, painting the sky with bursts of color and light. Family, friends, and Pokémon companions danced beneath the stars, their laughter mingling with the rhythmic music that filled the air.

In that magical moment, as Sycamore and Y/N swayed in each other's arms, they knew that their love was destined to endure, like an unbreakable bond forged by the very essence of their souls.

Together, they embarked on a new chapter of their lives, united by love, commitment, and a shared passion for the world of Pokémon. And in the years to come, Lumiose City would forever hold the memory of their extraordinary wedding—the celebration of a love that knew no bounds.

(I got chat GPT to write me a sequel)

[lostsunlight]

CHAPTER 4 - Oculus Dei Tam Bonus Quam Mei

childe x reader, wc: 5k, masterlist

cw: blood and gore, nsfw

Ludi Harpastum was well on its way, even on the 4th day you could feel the city thrumming with energy, you could hear the shouts well into the night even high up in the cathedral. As expected the infirmary filled up quicker than usual. Mostly just drunkards who needed some wolfhook to make them vomit and then some water. One green clad bard in particular seemed to come back every night. 

The work made your bones ache, you had even been excused from morning prayer to help with the endless stream of people. You adjusted your leather gloves and kept on working, allowing your thoughts to disappear. You could help but wish you were down in the city with some of the other sisters. You hadn’t celebrated Ludi for years, you loved the wild energy of the celebration, especially getting caught up in the chaotic dances that had a tendency to start rather spontaneously.  

The wild tales some of the sisters told of what happened on the streets made jealousy curl up in your chest like a cat in front of a hearth. One story in particular recounted by Marianne was one of the blacksmith's apprentices letting a boar loose leaving the lower portion of the city on a wild chase, resulting in several caskets of wine being destroyed and a few unhappy knights. The story had the sisters you ate dinner with that night in stitches. You had poked at your meat, refusing to make eye contact with Marianne. 

Barbara however had decided that the most talented healers were to stay back all Ludi. Naturally, despite her training as a healer she made no such rules for herself. It wasn’t like you were permitted to leave the cathedral anyways, not until your sins had been properly atoned for, whatever that meant. 

It had been two weeks since you had last seen Childe and you were itching to get out, even if it was alone. You crave to feel the grass and flowers against your back, to run along the cliffs again, admire the sheer beauty of the endless sea dotted with shrouded islands. 

During Ludi you had climbed to the rooftop most nights to try and find him with no success, he was effectively a ghost. You had seen more and more Fatui Agents crawling around however, accumulating at the recently acquired Goth Hotel. One agent in particular had taken to loitering around the doors of the cathedral. You had even caught a glimpse of what you thought was the so-called ‘Darknight Hero’ prowling the stairs below. Something was coming and you did not want to be here for it.

You were once again on the roof after a long day in the infirmary, looking up at the stars you could see the outline of Celestia shadowed against the sky. A living reminder of God's eyes upon you. Looking up you could see your constellation Lucens Caduceus draped among the stars. Born under Hydro, blessed by the fates above to be a healer it seemed. 

You stood on the peak of the roof, above the large circular stained glass window that gazed upon the city. Cool summer wind was blowing through your hair. Underneath you the festival-goers milled around, you could hear the cheers of the people as they basked in the orange lights of the lamps strung above. 

After sundown the crowd tended to become rowdier, you could see one person unsuccessfully attempting to climb the large statue of Barbatos, within an instant some of the knights had apprehended them ungracefully dragging them away, the crowd laughing along. 

You had seen Grandmaster Jean milling around the streets, rumours among some of the Knights say she killed the last Grandmaster Varka for the title, wanting the Knights back in the Gunnhildrs hands. You had never met The Dandelion Knight, only hearing bits and pieces about her from others around you. That was enough to know to avoid getting on her bad side. How could such a seemingly kind woman commit such a ruthless act? Was that the extent she was willing to go for power, for control?

As expected the Harbinger was nowhere to be seen, his height and red hair would be a beacon in the crowd below. You wondered if he was getting any closer to finding Barbatos, if he could find him before the 7th day, before you made your escape. 

Standing up you stalked across the green-tiled roof careful to not lose your balance and slipped back into the room under the bell tower, glad to be sheltered from the increasing windiness and noise of the city. Leaning against the wall you activated your Vision, the blue orb softly glowing against your back from the chain it hung upon.

A small bubble of water appeared before you and you concentrated on forming the blade you had seen Childe use, moonlight glinting through the water.  For the last two weeks you had been trying and unsuccessfully trying to form Hydro weapons. If The Church forbade you from owning a sword made of steel then a weapon that you could instantly dissipate without a trace would be useful. 

You still didn’t understand why Childe felt the lust he felt for battle. The weapon was more of a utility to you, a way to fend for yourself if worse came to worst. You tried to form the water into a spear, Bending and flexing your fingers, weaving the weapon. You had control over the form of the water it was keeping in that form that was hard for you. Any spear you made wouldn't hold and dripped into a puddle on the floor along with your hopes.

The polearm formed in your hands, you liked the range the weapon gave you. You held it tightly desperately trying to keep it together but to no avail the water slipped between your fingers. Weeks of trying and no progress. You slid down the wall bringing your legs to your chest and resting your head against your knees and sighed deeply. 

Only 3 more days. You thought to yourself, you could do this, you just needed to hold on for a little longer. 

-♢-

This plan of Y/N’s was insane Childe had thought to himself, and yet he had allowed himself to get swept up into it. In the week that passed he had come to a few realisations. He had missed the candour that you gave him. To be treated as just a man, not as a feared Harbinger. He knew he could be creating a liability, another weak point, his family already gave him a glaring vulnerability to anyone that knew about them. As much as he wished to mention them they had to remain a tight-lipped secret. He had faith that Pucinella would grant them his protection. 

He had thought about climbing the cathedrals walls again, he craved more conversation with you. He didn’t realise how badly he needed a connection with someone who would treat him as an equal. He had pushed all of that away in favour of mastering his skill, the connections he made as a Harbinger were superficial, nothing more than opportunities, exchanges.

This, while at its core was a deal, you were going to be working together closely for a while. This could very easily spiral into something else if Childe wasn’t careful. That was going to be hard considering how badly he craved connection. Connection was too dangerous for someone with a life like his, he had to be detached no matter how hard it hurt him.

In the month Childe had spent looking for the Anemo Archon three of those weeks had been useless. But this last week? He had finally finally made some progress. Ludi made peoples tongues looser, secrets were easier to buy off those who wouldn't even remember the previous night. All it took was a blacked out knight, a knife and some light threatening for the poor man to spill his secrets. That he has seen a local bard calling down a dragon fro the storm above. 

He was desperate to head to Liyue and begin his assignment there. Killing a god was certainly more fun than fruitlessly trying to find one that could very well have been dead for centuries. He couldn't even finish the hunt, that was Signoria’s job this time. He couldn’t understand why he had been sent to find Barbatos. 

Reaching the glowing tavern in the back corners of Mondstadt he climbed up to a window on the second floor and effortlessly slipped into the Angels Share. He may be known for his talent on the battlefield but he liked to think he could be a good spy when needed. For a weekday it was still rowdy, something that reminded him of home. Tsaritsa knew how much he missed home; it had been almost a year, letters from Tonia being his only string to sanity. He had taken to sitting on a small dock on the edge of Dragonspine just to remind him of the cold, summer was still an unfamiliar season to him despite his travels. 

There was a bard clad in green and white standing on a table near the centre of the room on the lower floor, playing his lyre while singing a Mondstadt folk song to the roaring crowd below. Blue and black braids swinging as he spun around on the table carelessly. He didn’t look old enough to even drink, let alone be a god with thousands in years behind him. This was who they were trying to steal a gnosis from? No wonder Mondstadt was crumbling, its god was nothing more than a drunken fool Childe snarked to himself.

A suppressed smirk made its way across his face, all he needed to do was confirm his godhood, The Fatui needed the correct target after all. One of the other Harbingers might have had their underlings tail him but Childe was bored, desperate to alleviate it. His only other source was locked away in the cathedral’s infirmary for 3 more days. Ludi had given him something to do, he had considered joining the festivities but being drunk on the job was a bad idea right now, he would have to save it for Liyue. 

Swiftly making his exit to the roofs above he waited. A cat stalking its prey. His eyes shifted to the cathedral towering high above him, partially obscured by the towering statue of Barbatos, a statue worshipping the glory of a tarnished god. He had wondered if he would see your figure standing on the rooftop but the green tiles remained barren. He moved his gaze back to the tavern letting the hours pass by, occasionally throwing a hydro knife at a beam of wood.

Around 3 am the bard stumbled out significantly drunker than he was a few hours ago. Childe followed his path from the rooftops, he was walking towards the main gate of the city. No mortal would leave the city at this hour, it was too dangerous with all the abyssal creatures lurking just outside, ready to strike at any unsuspecting mortal. The Abyss of course was no threat to him, he had long known how to navigate the depths with ease. 

Slinking out of the gate he followed the drunken god across the stone bridge to the deep woods just outside the city. Venti hummed a tune as he staggered along the well worn footpath until he reached a large clearing. There he saw him wait in the centre, head tilted staring into the sky he began to sing a strange tune. What was the fool doing?

Childe’s question was quickly answered when the fabled Stormterror descended next to the god. It was huge, wings shadowing over the trees. Venti approached the abyssal beast without hesitation, a faint green glow emanating from his form, glowing brighter as he got closer. He couldn’t make out the conversation, only a few words; it was spoken in what sounded almost like Mondtadan. but that would be enough to confirm Venti’s godhood to anyone. Conversing with Stormterror and making it out alive. 

Childe turned and made his way through the forest back to the walled city, content that he had finally found the target. Mondstadt’s god hadn’t abandoned his nation, rather he was hiding in plain sight like a coward. As he approached Mondstadt he heard heavy footsteps rapidly approaching. Whipping his head round he spotted a figure clad in black rapidly approaching him. Childe dodged the attack with practised ease, conjuring a polearm and striking. The man jumped back, Childe took the few seconds he had to assess his opponent. Claymore. Pyro. strength concentrated in his upper body. 

This was almost too perfect. The claymore made the eagle-masked attacker slow but strong, and he just so happened to be best at striking rapidly, all he needed to do was dodge to avoid his heavy attacks. Moving back he rushed behind the stranger, aiming to take him out by sweeping his legs. He dodged the attack and swung his claymore at Childe once again. 

Childe jumped back from the blow and then lurched back in, the polearm's deadly tip pointed towards his assailant. A bust of pyro came his way, he immediately overwhelmed it with water, causing it to vaporise into nothing more than steam. Childe swung aiming for the back, his polearm was slashed through with a heavy swing of the claymore. 

Creating dual blades without much of a second thought me moved in on the offensive, getting closer to this opponent might work better. He ran into him, slashing his blade along the man’s chest before spinning around and attacking again. The man was too slow to dodge his attacks this time.

He continued this dance for a few more minutes, relishing the feeling of a good fight. It had been too long since he had a decent spar against a skilled opponent. He felt the adrenaline rush through his body, this is what he was made for. He moved back and threw an arrow, clipping the man's shoulder and tearing through his thick black coat, blood welling up to fill the cut.

The strangers grip on his claymore tightened, bursting into flame and going in for another strike. The blade arched high above his head, slamming it down with force. Childe moved to the side and activated his delusion. Feeling the pure power of electro burst through his arteries. He was alive with pure elemental energy, power thrumming through his core. 

His blades now sparking with electro he jumped, barely teleporting as pure electricity shocked his body. He struck true, landing the centre of his opponent's chest and overloaded the man, knocking him flat on his back.

He straddled gasping the man, placing a blade at his throat. He ripped the mask off, throwing it carelessly to the side, revealing the head of Mondstadt’s wine industry. Diluc Ragnvindr. He was slightly surprised that he was still conscious, normally an overload caused someone's heart to stop completely, the rush of electricity clawing into the organ and overwhelming it. 

Childe couldn't kill him, that would cause too much of a diplomatic mess, but he could still have some fun he decided. He kept the blade pressed to the man's throat, eyes still alight with fire glaring back at Childe’s cold facade.

“Ragnvider, care to tell me why you attacked a Fatui Harbinger?” He bit out

“I saw you follow that bard, The Fatui are nothing but a stain on my land” He spit back

“Oh so you try to strike the head of the snake then? Don't care about the consequences that might cause Ragnvindr” He glared down at the helpless man

“I’m sure Il Dottore would love to see you again, perhaps I might ask him to pay a visit so he could finally finish the job” He saw Diluc’s pupils constrict and his breath quicken “A dead Harbinger might just cause him to come back. I hear he misses Mondstadt” He taunted, trying to get a rise out of him.

Diluc pressed his lips together, refusing to say anything else. Childe moved his blade away from his neck, still straddling him “We may be on opposite sides but you fight well comrade. How about we strike a deal?”

“You take me for a fool? Absolutely not” Diluc snapped back

Ignoring Dilic’s response he continued dragging a gloved finger across the sharp edge of his blade “How’s this, I don’t kill you and you stop trying to kill me. Tell me, did you think through this plan of yours? I understand you can leave The Knights to clean up your messes but did you really think my death would go unnoticed? That we wouldn't come to Mondstadt like vultures?”

A look of realisation came across Diluc’s face, this might be his only option. Childe leans in “That your crop wouldn't be burnt and your land salted, your cellars raided, your tavern destroyed. We could so easily take away everything you own”

Diluc gritted his teeth, trying to find a loophole, an exploit. 

“There's nothing you can do, Ragnvindr” He slid a finger along the edge of his blade, eyes glancing down at him a glint of amusement flashed across his usually blank eyes.

“I accept this deal,” Diluc relented, releasing there was no way out of this 

A grin spread across Childe’s face as he spun his blade around, dissipating it into droplets that scattered across Diluc’s face. He stood up leaving the other man sprawled on the dirt and walked away.

He turned his head around to look at him one last time “I’ll give you a tip Ragnvindr, think before you strike next time”

With that he strolled back to the city, sun beginning to peak over the horizon, its rays casting an ethereal golden light across the landscape. Content to enjoy the remaining days of Ludi before he had to leave. 

-♢-

Day 6 of Ludi. The last day under The Churches control. It was an effort to keep your excitement from being visible despite your exhaustion. You could hear the echo of the hymns below you echoing off the cathedral’s stone walls. You’re standing in your bedroom in the late afternoon Marianne absent for prayer. She should be gone for a few hours considering she's made a habit of going to Barbara’s office after evening prayer. You had finally gathered the confidence to escape to the city below for the night, you pulled the shawl around you and made your way to the window, and leaned out. You were only one floor up, you could climb down easily right?

Taking a breath you swing your leg out the window, tip of your boot finding purchase on a jagged piece of cobblestone. You tested its weight, once you were certain it could take your weight you swung your other leg out, turinding so your body now faced the window. You were sure your knuckles were white underneath your gloves for how tightly you were holding the window sill. You took a deep breath in, this was no different from climbing the ceilings.

Slowly you made your way down, jumping the last metre or so and landing softly on the cobblestone below. You pulled your hood and made your way around the side of the church, wanting to get away before evening prayer ended. You skirted the edge of the cathedral wanting to avoid any knights, if they caught you it would be finished before it even started. 

This was dangerous, stupid you scolded yourself internally but it was worth it, you wanted to enjoy your last few hours here. You descended the stairs and made your way into the crowd below, content to become another face. 

You grinned to yourself you had made it out. Wandering around you came to a food stall, pulling out a few mora you had nicked from the donation bowl you exchanged it for a glass of dandelion wine. Relishing the sweet taste and the slight burn of the alcohol you made your way further down the city. The people and chaos increased as you went down the stairs. 

You had missed Ludi. You missed the dances and sneaking away with a random person to the alleys just to spite The Church. 

A bright flash of ginger hair out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. You turned around, fingers at the edge of your hood ready to pull it down. Your eyes met his, and he smiled, approaching you. 

“Fancy seeing you here Y/N” he teased, head tilting down to look at you

“Likewise Harbinger” you pulled down your hood to reveal your face, still walking down the stairs to the heart of the festival, you could almost hear the music over the crowd. 

“Enjoying the festivities?” He walked with you, not bothering to question how you got out in the first place

“Might as well before I leave forever, despite my hatred of this place it is where I was raised” you shrugged weaving effortlessly around people

“Have you found him?” You questioned, Childe gave you a short nod 

“Yes, he wasn’t too hard to track down once enough alcohol was involved” he laughed a little

Your eyebrows shot up a little So he was real after all

“Then I take if you're enjoying Ludi as well” You looked him up and down, his usual red scarf and jacket were missing a slight flush was gracing his cheeks

“Is it hot here?” you eyed him, laughter tracing the edge of your voice

“Compared to Snezhnaya, yes, but the crowd and warm winds haven’t been helping. I suppose Liyue will be worse” 

“Liyue?”

“Were headed to Liyue after we leave here” 

“Nice to know where I’m following you to” you smirked. 

He gave you a look, the same look he have you when he was going to do something impulsive “Come”

Without waiting for your response he grabbed your hand and dragged you into the centre of the crowd, towards the dance.

“You know Mondstadt folk dance?” you raise an eyebrow at him 

“How could I not, my question is do you know how to dance” 

“Of course, this was my favourite part of Ludi” You grinned, light dancing in your eyes.

This time you dragged him into the dance, grabbing his hand. You let him swing you in an arc, the two of you followed the steps, you hooked arms with another young woman and danced with her momentarily, moving onto her partner. The hem on your skirt lifting with the movement as he and Childe swapped partners returning you to him. He gave a stomp along with the music along with the others.

You couldn’t help but notice how he moved, similar to how he moved in a fight, fluid and strong and sure. The band began to increase the pace of the song, you fed off the uncontrolled energy of the crowd letting it spur you and Childe on, dancing faster and faster. 

You laughed along with him, this was the first time you had felt free in so long, your hair whipped around you as he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you up. You planted your hands on his shoulders to keep your balance. He turned and placed you back on the ground in unison with everyone else. He grabbed your hand again and raised it above your head to twirl you and then braced his hands on your waist to tip you back turning your face up to feel the warm winds across your cheeks.

He was practically glowing, a large smile plastered across his freckled face red earring catching the last few remnants of sunlight. You clapped your hands along with the song laughing, feeling the strong dandelion wine begin to hit you.  You looked up at him and tilted your head, your limbs felt looser as the wine coursed through your body. 

You glazed to the horizon, and took a sharp breath in. Now that the sun had nearly set, The Sisters would be done with their prayer, preparing to leave for the festival once again. You couldn’t risk being seen, not when you were this close. 

You pulled him in the small amount of wine giving you more confidence than you normally would have, whispering in his ear and you continued to dance “I have to leave, I’ll see you on the roof”

Before he could respond you had left, disappearing into the crowd. You ran back to the cathedral, clambering up the cobblestone wall you launched yourself into the room. Panting you looked up only to see a surprised Marianne looking back at you. Her icy glare freezing you in place instantly sobering you up. 

“Where have you been Y/N” she sighed 

“I-I went out to the festival, Just for a few hours to dance”

“Why? You know you have to stay in the cathedral, The Deaconess deemed that you must stay back” She said, exasperated

“Mari please, it was only for a few hours, I’ve been worked to the bone. I just wanted to dance again” you begged her

“Y/N… You know I have to tell The Deaconess”

“Then tell her tomorrow, enjoy the festival tonight. Let me rest at least” You couldn't let her say a word, that would shatter everything. Why did you leave, why did you think that your action wouldn’t come without consequence 

“I’m worried about you, what if you never came back? What if the Fatui took you again” Her gaze shifted to reveal something more sincere, an expression that had become increasingly rare these last few weeks. 

“Mari I’m fine, Please, go enjoy your night. I’ll be here tomorrow”

“What if you weren't fine? We can’t lose another healer” Her words slammed into you

“Another healer? Is that who I am to you now?” You spat, her words piercing you harder than you thought they would.

“Y/N that's not what I meant, I still care about you” She reached her hand out to you, which was meant to be a familiar gesture. Without thinking you stepped back to avoid her touch wanting to shove any feeling you had for her far underground. 

“What happened to you Mari? What happened to being kind, how can you love The Deaconess after what she did to you”

“Things change Y/N. I still love you but I must follow my duty”

The words you had for her were caught in your throat, you wanted to tell her you loved her too but that would be a lie. You wanted to scream at her and ask her how she could see such kindness in such a cruel figure. You wanted to kiss her like you had so long ago, give into her embrace and try to return to what you were once.

“Marianne…” Her name rotted on your tongue. “Just leave, enjoy the festival. We can talk tomorrow” Against everything in you screaming not to you meet her gaze. The sympathy that had been there just moments ago was gone along with her old self.

Marianne pressed her lips in a thin line “Fine, but you know I’ll have to report you to The Deaconess tomorrow” 

You nodded and sighed “I know, enjoy your night” 

Marianne left the room, shutting the door gently behind her . You of course would be long gone by tomorrow morning. You sat down on the bed you've slept in since you were small. Trying not to cry, she wasn’t worth your tears anymore. 

That was your last conversation with Marianne, someone who had changed into someone you barely knew, someone you could barely look at without seeing the ghost of Barbara. 

You had considered telling her your plan at the start, begging her to run away with you, but now it was too risky. She would report you immediately, your grave would be dug by the end of the day. 

It was going to sting leaving her forever, if you ever saw her again perhaps one day when you were old and withered you would have to apologise for abandoning her. You doubted she would forgive you, in her eyes you were betraying everything you knew. You were turning your back on those who raised, fed and trained you all to join The Fatui, the enemy in her eyes. This was not just stabbing her in the back but slitting her throat as well. 

There was no going back however, this is what you wanted, what you had fought for, bound yourself to a Harbinger for. You sighed, ever since the day you had gotten your vision by healing Marianne’s wounds alone after her lashings. The five festering lines across her back set the hatred you had for The Order in stone.

You could still remember the day so clearly, the bright blue manifesting in front of you, your hands shaking so badly you could barely pick it up. The eye of a god encased in a silver casing, small wings protruding from the sides.  Marianne had looked at you in awe, bandages wrapped tightly around the whole of her torso. That was five years ago, yet the memory still carried the same weight as it had for years. 

Steeling your resolve you grabbed a pack from under your bed and began to pack. Shoving a few items only the essentials in and leaving anything sentimental determined to leave any trace of your life at the cathedral far behind you. You climbed to the roof to wait for Childe.  

You took in the view of the city for the last time, you would miss the place a little but the stars you had spent hours staring at would still be there wherever you were going. You were sure he would tell you his next assignment once you were out of Mondstadt and safely in Liyue.