#ligeia speaks

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price - Tomb of Ligeia (1964)

[draculadept-flow]

When you move like Dracula you move with An Imminence. If Fucine is called the dry tongue, why does it make my bitch wet when I speak it into her snatch? I huff an ounce of Bitterblack Salts to set my blood aflame as a part of my morning routine. Ligeia remembers me, motherfucker. I don't need no Dawnbreaker or key of any kind to bust open the Savage Door, all I need is a bottle of whisky and a brass knuckle. I got more Edge than the Wolf Divided, more Lantern than the Colonel, more Forge than the Lionsmith, and more crack than the Grail could ever drink up. This shit ain't nothing to me, man!

[daphnedauphinoise]

Ligeia’s passing the helpful torch onto you… thoughts? drafts?

Here is an old one:

No-one asked but if you will take one advice from me, learn how to be a great conversationalist. Learn how to speak to people and learn how to listen. There really isn't any substitute to this skill. I think it is THE fundamental for levelling up.

I also don't think it is hard at all. The only way you will learn is by doing it. Because there isn't one way to talk and nor is there one way to approach a conversation. A good conversationalist gages her surrounding, the atmosphere, the people who she is talking to make sure that her tone, topic of conversation and semantics are correct.

I have never believed in the whole 'I hate small talk, i want to talk about the bid deep' thing. To get there with someone, you need to build up that rapport and relationship. Talking about about how the weather is or how someone's grandchild is, comes before talking about what kind of business you want to start,the husband you want, what you want help with. I have never met someone who could ask for business deals but not talk about the weather. Charisma cannot be contained to one section or one particular area at all.

'But Daphne how do I know what to talk about ? How do I start ? How do I continue? 'Again go back to what I said about how a good conversationalist acts. Chances are when you are meeting people, you are not in white hospital scrubs in those white asylum-esque room. You will have sometime in your environment that you can talk about.

'Daphne what if we have nothing in common'

If you have nothing in common, welll the fact that both of you are in this conversation is a commonality. You are talking to an astrophysicist and you know nill about space, that's fine! Show interest, engage with what they are saying, ask question from what they have said. People love interesting people but people also love interested people. I know a lot advice is to be well read and well educated and I know I vouch for this as well but I will also tell you that it is fine not to know things. You really don't have to know everything about everything. The difference between not seeming dumb and inept and curious and excited to learn (this is what you want) is the tone and the enthusiam in your voice. If you don't know the difference, practice asking questions outloud and see if how they sound to you.

One of the tricks I have started doing is pretending as if the person I am talking has the love lanaguage of 'word of affirmations'. I sometimes speak to people like I have had too much therapy but it works. All it is just affirming to people and making sure that they are having a good time talking to. The other day as I was waving some patrons bye, this woman told me that she loved talking to me and she hoped to me just so we could continue the converstaion. I love making people feel safe and welcomed into conversations with me. I am not overly fan girly instead I am genuine and sincere and I make sure that comes across. I don't talk down about other people, I don't curse and I make sure I stay relatively impartial and undecided. It is funny watching people spend a lot of time talking to me, trying to win me over with their point and when they do! they get so happy, bless!

love,

daphne xoxo

[generic-ghost-ghoul]

Seven Deadly Sins

I'm so sorry this took me so long because I really do like getting tagged to do things like this! Thank you @waterdeeping for the tag!!

No pressure tags: @birb--birb @wardenrainwall @housederiva and, of course, anyone else who wants to participate!

Ligeia Ingellvar

PRIDE ⇢ confidence. self-assurance. self-respect. dignity.public speaking. self-promotion. arrogant. conceited. egotistical. self-important. vain. boastful speech. puffed chest. raised chin. smug smiles. spotlight. tooting your own horn. showing off. refusing to admit mistakes. feeling entitled. personal branding. leadership development.

GREED ⇢ resourcefulness. entrepreneurial spirit. negotiation. materialistic. aggressive investment. lavish spending spree. resource-hoarding. get-rich-quick schemes. auction-bidding war. property acquisition. piles of money. overflowing wallets. luxury items. locked safes. penny-pinching. rare collectables. selfishness. unwillingness to share.

LUST ⇢ desire for connection. pursuit of pleasure. emotional intelligence. obsessive. lovesick. one-night stands. seductive encounter. flirtatious conversation. erotic party. seductive attire. revealing clothing. passionate gaze. provocative makeup. sensual expressions. suggestive gestures. flirtatious smiles. lingerie. love letters. perfumes. provocative behaviour. love poems. erotic art.

ENVY ⇢ motivation. competitive spirit. strategic planning. observational skills. bitter rivalry. contest. envious gossip. resentment-filled argument. social media jealousy. furrowed brows. clenched jaws. side-eye looks. pursed lips. tense posture. whispering behind backs. crossed arms. gossip magazines. keeping up with the joneses. the grass is always greener.feeling inadequate.

GLUTTONY ⇢ indulgence in experiences. savouring moments. hospitality. generosity. hedonism. culinary expertise. wine-tasting. excessive snacking. overloaded plates. excessive portions. bloated stomachs. messy eating. greasy fingers. full tables. indulgent spreads. overflowing cups. satisfied expressions. wine bottles. just can't get enough. fast food wrappers.

WRATH ⇢ assertiveness. decisiveness. strength. intensity. boundary setting.courage. indignant. heated arguments. road rage incident. physical altercation. angry outburst. clenched fists. glaring eyes. tense muscles. raised voices. reddened faces. aggressive gestures. stormy demeanour. intense frowns. destructive actions. broken objects. punching bag. out for blood. fists. simmering anger.

SLOTH ⇢ calmness. stress management. nonchalance. relaxation techniques. lethargic. apathetic. inactive. lazy weekend. binge-watching marathon. neglected chores. skipped workout. long nap. lounging on the couch. missed deadlines. unkempt appearance. messy hair. pyjamas. blankets. slippers. procrastination station. self-care routines.

[cynicalraccoon]

SPOILERS AHEAD!!

For inspiration I bought the Grey Knights Omnibus. Here's my thoughts on it.

The first book, The Grey Knights, introduced the Knights perfectly in my opinion. It also conveyed the cunning nature of Tzeentch's forces marvelously.

This book is set somewhere in the beginning of the infamous 13th Black Crusade. So, the Grey Knights and Inquisitors have very little Astartes to spare to investigate possible chaos activity.

Introduce Alaric and his team.

I like the fact that Alaric isn't a harden veteran when he's first introduced. He feels more human when his doubts and concern is shown. I can't wait to see his character growth in the next two books.

Quick shout out to Durendin because I really love Chaplains. I just like their aestetics.

When Ligeia was introduced, I just knew she was going to die. If not because of her not being a fighter, then because of her being a psyker trying to investigate and stop a daemon's plans.

And I was right. I just wasn't expecting the plot twist of her releasing the second antagonist, Valinov, lose from his execution and then basically losing hope and accepting her fate as a traitor because Tzeentch has forseen it.

I had a thought during her interrogation scene, when she spoke Gargatuloth's true name-not that I knew that was his name at the time. I thought how funny would it be if she was speaking some really important information backwards, and the Inquisition wouldn't know until the very last minute when they needed it most.

Color me surprised when it happened almost exactly like that. While it wasn't backwards, it was important information. And color me more surprised that Alaric would trust her that much, even even she was a traitor, to take the chance to speak it during the final battle between him and Gargatuloth.

It just made the little dynamic between them that much bittersweet. Because they could've had a friendship or at least a partnership if she didn't tuen traitor and had lived.

Not gonna lie, I'm a sucker for friendship relationship between Astartes and humans. Even though they sometimes end up being tragic. Loken and Mercadies, Sevatar and Altani, ect.

The scene with Valinov and Hive Superior on Volcanis Ultor had me tense. All I could think was that those people were so screwed. The Inqusition would not let them live, if they weren't killed by daemons, after they were unknowingly manipulated and fought for Chaos. The Inquision would not care.

Though they did die, we don't know what happened to the rest of the Ecclesiarchy after the final battle.

Speaking of final battle. It was awesome. I especially like the fact that the Sword of Mandulis wasn't an overpowered relic and the chosen weapon to save the day. It was just another ploy in Gargatuloth's schemes. An interesting twist, I have to say.

But yeah, I enjoyed the first book. It kept my attention with all the twists and turns. And of course at the inside look into how the Grey Knight and Ordo Malleus operate.

Think I'm gonna split the omnibus review into three parts. Each part for each story. Mostly so I don't end up hitting the word limit while in the middle of a review.

[the-elizabeth-shepherd]

MONSTERAMA in Atlanta August 9-11 '24

A GLORIOUS CELEBRATION WITH OUR ARDENT FANS !!

PHOTOS below : with cosplayer Mr Steed, then signing picture with him as himself: vulcan salute with Stephen Manley: with Anthony Taylor: Gothic panel with Madeline Brumby: Ligeia speaks Q&A: with Martine Beswick, Pauline Peart, and Sam Irwin!: joking with Victoria Vetri: with Zandor Vorkov: Roger Corman Panel: Birthday Cake!: with Chris Alexander and his Corman book: Reading Frankenstein accompanied by Braxton of Valentine Wolfe

[talesofpassingtime]

"There is no exquisite beauty,” says Bacon, Lord Verulam, speaking truly of all the forms and genera of beauty, “without some strangeness in the proportion."

— Edgar Allan Poe, Ligeia   

[late-to-the-party-99]

Songbird (Pt. Three)

A lone siren realizes her echo isn't her own. It's that of Echo, invisible and only able to repeat the words of others. They find a way to grow close anyway... and to break some curses.

Part One

Part Two

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

“The rain’s too strong,” Ligeia says, squinting at the dreary drizzle outside. “I don’t think I can fly in that.”

“We can wait,” Echo says. “All we need is something to do.”

Ligeia chuckles. “When I find a library, I’ll let you know.”

“You like to read?”

She sinks back into her nest, pulling her wings close. “I did. My mother had scroll after scroll of poetry. All the songs and verses you could ever want,” she sighs.

“Your mother sounds like a lovely person.”

“She was. But we have no scrolls here. Though… I do remember them. Maybe…” Ligeia pauses, realizing what she’s about to propose. I haven’t done that in so long, she thinks. Not since with her.

But Echo is right there, patient and soft. She smells like the rain outside, but sweeter — with a hint of jasmine. 

“…we could take turns telling stories?” Ligeia suggests.

“I don’t know many stories, though.” Echo gusts past her to rustle in the corner, scooping up discarded walnut shells. “We should use these for something. A game?”

“Why don’t I supply the stories, and you supply the contest?”

The wind grows lighter and looser. “It’s a date,” Echo teases.

***********

“See, this is why you’re my favorite.” Mistress giggles behind her hand. “Please, could you sing more to me tonight?” Her eyes shine a soft green, her skin aglow in the violet light of dusk. She smells of lavender and jasmine. 

“I would love to.”

Mistress leans close with a whisper, meant for only the two of them: “It’s a date, then.”

*************

A flush rises to Ligeia’s cheeks. Giving her head a brisk shake, she hops out of her nest and stumbles out of Echo’s way.

“Ready,” Echo taps out. “It isn’t much, but it’s a start. We compete to see who’ll throw these shells the farthest.”

“Alright.” Ligeia clears her throat. With a faint tremble to her voice, she begins.

She doesn’t sing. But she chants, weaving a tale in rhyme about a hero who fell for Love himself. As she speaks, the words returning to her with practiced ease, she tosses the shells. 

“You’re a very good storyteller,” Echo says when she finishes.

Ligeia manages to fling her pebble onto the grass. She smiles, her stomach fluttering. “I think you might be trying to distract me so I don’t get so many points.”

“…maybe.”

She snorts, and so does Echo, pitching up the sound into a light laugh. “But thank you,” Ligeia says. “I’m glad to hear I still have some of my skills.”

“You must’ve been very popular.”

Ligeia’s smile fades a little. “Only with one person.”

“Who were they?”

“Uh.” Why do I feel like this? It happened so long ago. It’s not like Echo is your — no. No. Just stay quiet. Don’t say—

“I’m sorry,” Echo says, cutting into her thoughts. “I shouldn’t—”

“It’s fine! I just… I haven’t thought about her in a while.” Ligeia draws in a deep breath, rolling the shell around in her talons. The words begin to push their way to the surface. “We grew up together, her and I and my sisters. We all kept her company.”

“What sorts of things did you do?”

“We picked flowers, we sang, and we told stories.”

“That sounds fun,” Echo says, a wistful note entering her voice.

“Yes.” The shell crackles in her grip. “She and I were the closest, though. She liked my stories the best, and she spent the most time with me. We were friends.”

“You seem to have cared about her very much.”

**************

“She’s married.”

The Lady stands before them, Ligeia and her sisters kneeling at her feet. Her voice sounds brittle, the sweetness gone and replaced by something thornier. “The Underworld took her, and my brother — he approved of it. I couldn’t do anything. Nobody did anything.”

The grass around them wilts from green to yellow.

“You didn’t do anything,” the Lady snarls.

Ligeia’s head snaps up, tears shining in her eyes. “What could we have done?” 

“Anything other than standing there.” The Lady’s hands curl into fists. “Anything other than letting my daughter be taken away to such a cruel fate.”

“My Lady, please—”

“She’s married to that man. My only daughter is gone for several months of the year!”

“My Lady—”

“Did you not care?”

Ligeia jumps to her feet. “I love her! You think I don’t grieve at her marriage?” 

Silence falls over the glade. Her sisters stare at her. The Lady stares at her. The Lady’s eyes glow gold like wheat in the sun, bloodied by a red dawn. “And what good was your love?”

*************

Ligeia finds herself blinking back tears. “I wish I loved her enough to save her.”

There’s a beat of hesitation, the air turning over itself. Then, Echo flutters down and close to Ligeia, like a pair of arms. 

This time, emotion swells in her chest. She can’t choke it back. Her face crumples. She draws in a ragged breath and finds the air close and cool. Beyond the hope of return, she leans into the touch and sobs, heaving her shoulders.

The sound is ugly. It’s the sound of a grieving woman. But as it pours out of her, the thorns catching in her throat, she feels her chest loosen. She feels Echo’s touch grow firmer and even closer to her, becoming a true embrace.

“Thank you,” she whispers later, her ability to speak with words recovered. “I needed that.”

“You did,” Echo says. She feels so gentle, so kind and warm. “You deserve to grieve what you lose. This person — she sounds like she meant a great deal to you.”

“She was my first love,” Ligeia admits, swishing her tail feathers. 

“And you loved her enough. That wasn’t why you lost her,” Echo says, pressing closer. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“She deserved better, though. Both her and her mother.”

“So did you.”

Ligeia blinks, then manages a small nod. “I… you’re right. We all did.”

[theimperialnuisance]

I would love a Fun Fact about each of your characters, since you're becoming a multi-OC blog!

Ah sure! I’d love to! (°▽°) hmm let’s see;

Kien Eilath (my main Miqo wol) is predominately left handed but when fighting he’s ambidextrous! This is largely because he had to learn to fight with his right hand during the end of ShB because his left shoulder rendered him unable to because of light corruption.

N’noah Wiloh (an alt oc who is also a miqo) is the only oc I have that shares the same universe as Kein! Everyone else is separate. Her fun fact is that she’s an excellent card player but would rather cheat to win because she’s challenged so often she just wants the game to end quickly X3

Syren Ligeia (my other wol who is a viera) was present at Camp Riversmeet during the calamity. He was stationed there with his father when we was still part of the Knights and helped fend off the dragons while dealing with the sudden snow storm from the calamity. He started to experience the echo shortly after that and that incident is what led him to finally leave Ishgard for answers.

Ciel Fyth (alt oc who is a viera) knows sign language! He learned because his older brother’s fiancé was deaf and he wanted to communicate with her. It became more of his way to communicate with his brother often as they traveled, and it was the only way he communicated when he was going through a period of being mute. (Due to trauma ( ´∀｀) )

And finally, Atticus Wolfram (an alt oc who is half Garlean, half Elezen) is known as ‘The Raven’ because of the way his voidsent looks when it’s summoned. He’s earned quite the reputation as a reaper even though he doesn’t advertise it and passes as a Gunbreaker to any unknowing person.

Some of them might not have been ‘fun’ facts so to speak XD but it was the first thing I thought of so hopefully this gave some insight! ( ◠‿◠ ) thank you for the ask @ascendedhypothesis <3

[originalharmonysalad]

Robert Towne (born Robert Bertram Schwartz; November 23, 1934 – July 1, 2024) was an American screenwriter and director. 

He started writing films for Roger Corman, including The Tomb of Ligeia in 1964, and was later part of the New Hollywood wave of filmmaking.

Towne wrote the Academy Award-winning original screenplay for Roman Polanski's Chinatown (1974), widely considered one of the greatest screenplays, as well as its sequel, The Two Jakes (1990).

For Hal Ashby, he penned the dramedies The Last Detail (1973) and Shampoo (1975). He collaborated with Tom Cruise on the films Days of Thunder (1990), The Firm (1993) and the first two installments of the Mission: Impossible franchise (1996, 2000).

Towne directed the sports dramas Personal Best (1982) and Without Limits (1998), the crime thriller Tequila Sunrise (1988), and the romantic crime drama Ask the Dust (2006).

The Writer Speaks: Robert Towne Part 2 - YouTube

[sixbucks]

“There is no exquisite beauty," says Bacon, Lord Verulam, speaking truly of all the forms and genera of beauty, "without some strangeness in the proportion.”

Edgar Allan Poe, Ligeia

[fabioemme78]

[horatioclerval]

how Latin works:

bella (f): beautiful, handsome

bellus (m): beautiful, handsome

bellum (n): War

[talesofpassingtime]

There is one dear topic, however, on which my memory fails me not. It is the person of Ligeia. In stature she was tall, somewhat slender, and in her latter days, even emaciated. I would in vain attempt to portray the majesty, the quiet ease of her demeanor, or the incomprehensible lightness and elasticity of her footfall. She came and departed as a shadow. I was never made aware of her entrance into my closed study, save by the dear music of her low sweet voice, as she placed her marble hand upon my shoulder. In beauty of face no maiden ever equalled her. It was the radiance of an opium-dream — an airy and spirit-lifting vision move wildly divine than the phantasies which hovered about the slumbering souls of the daughters of Delos. Yet her features were not of that regular mould which we have been falsely taught to worship in the classical labors of the heathers. “There is no exquisite beauty,” says Bacon, Lord Verulam, speaking truly of all the forms and genera of beauty, “without some strangeness in the proportion.” Yet, although I saw that the features of Ligeia were not of a classic regularity — although I perceived that her loveliness was indeed “exquisite,” and felt that there was much of “strangeness” pervading it, yet I have tried in vain to detect the irregularity and to trace home my own perception of “the strange.” I examined the contour of the lofty and pale forehead — it was faultless — how cold indeed that word when applied to a majesty so divine! — the skin rivalling the purest ivory, the commanding extent and repose, the gentle prominence of the regions above the temples; and then the raven-black, the glossy, the luxuriant, and naturally-curling tresses, setting forth the full force the Homeric epithet, “hyacinthine!” I looked at the delicate outlines of the nose — and nowhere but in the graceful medallions of the Hebrews had I beheld the a similar perfection. There were the same luxurious smoothness of surface, the same scarcely perceptible tendency to the aquiline, the same harmoniously curved nostrils speaking the free spirit. I regarded the sweet mouth. Here was indeed the triumph of all things heavenly — the magnificent turn of the short upper lip — the soft, voluptuous slumber of the under — the dimples which sported, and the color which spoke — the teeth glancing back, with a brilliancy almost startling, every ray of the holy light which fell upon them in her serene and placid yet most exultingly radiant of all smiles. I scrutinized the formation of the chin — and here too, I found the gentleness of breadth, the softness and the majesty, the fulness and the spirituality, of the Greek — the contour which the god Apollo revealed but in a dream, to Cleomenes, the son of the Athenian. And then I peered into the large eyes of Ligeia.

— Edgar Allan Poe, Ligeia, second paragraph   

[late-to-the-party-99]

Songbird (Pt. Two)

A lone siren realizes her echo isn't her own. It's that of Echo, invisible and only able to repeat the words of others. They find a way to grow close anyway... and to break some curses.

Part One

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

It almost feels like a dream to Ligeia. When she wakes in the morning, she half expects Echo to be gone. But the air is warm in the cavern, the wind still and quiet as she stretches. “Hello,” she says.

“‘Hello.’”

Ligeia scoops up a few dried berries in the corner and fumbles them into her mouth. As she chews, the pebble rolls over the floor. “How far can you fly?”

“Not very. The curse makes sure of that.” Her shoulders sag, her tail feathers drooping. “It wouldn’t be so awful if I had more room to fly. I like flying,” she admits.

“Me too!” Echo’s reply is so fast the pebble squeals on the stone floor. “I don’t have wings, but I can float. I can feel everything rushing by me as I move, and I can go as fast as I like.”

“Now I want to hurl myself outside.” Liegeia churrs, the bird-like laugh warming the air.

“Why not?”

“Hm?”

“We could have a race.”

When Ligeia steps outside, she feels the air dip around her. Echo surges as she takes off with swift, powerful strokes of her wings. 

The sea opens up below, stretching out in a glittering blue-green tapestry. Ligeia spins through the air with a delighted laugh. Echo laughs back beside her ears, sending a shiver down her spine. The tips of Ligeia’s wings brush for a moment against the invisible tendrils flowing around her, and they shudder. 

Echo nudges up against her, and Ligeia giggles. “I’m winning!”

“‘I’m winning!’”

They swoop around each other, growing more confident with each dive towards the island, the grass rushing up to meet them and then falling away. Ligeia lets out a joyous trill that bubbles up in her chest, smiling as she makes a banking turn to skim the sea—

Her head strikes an invisible wall. 

She staggers mid-air, crying out. Echo cries back at her. Sound and wind roar together in her ears as she flails back to her cavern, tumbling onto the ground. 

The air flutters above Ligeia. When black spots stop dancing in her eyes, she sees the pebble skitter over the floor. “Are you alright?”

“I will be,” she says. She tries to smile, even as a welt throbs on her scalp. “You win this time.”

“It’s not a win if someone gets hurt.” Echo edges closer, vibrating like a taut wire. Some part of her ghosts over Ligeia’s scalp, then snatches itself back. “Does it—”

“It already hurts less,” Ligeia says, blinking. She still feels where Echo’s touch smoothed over her hair. 

“Good.”

“You, um. You’re very good at flying.”

Echo shifts. “So are you. I’ve never flown with anyone before, but I think no-one could beat you.”

“I — thank you,” Ligeia replies, her feathers fluffing out a little. “Though I think you have more experience than me. There’s not much room here with these walls.”

“The walls. Is there a way to bring them down?” Echo asks, slow and thoughtful. 

Ligeia frowns. “I don’t see why there would be.”

“Maybe there is a way.”

“What?”

“‘What?’”

“I — no. There’s no chance. I’ve been here for centuries.”

“You’ve been here for centuries,” Echo agrees. A breeze nudges against Ligeia’s left wing. “But it sounds like you’ve gone centuries without trying to leave.”

“Why would I? It’s the curse of a — a god, Echo. I don’t think I can escape from that.”

The pebble stops rolling. Echo stiffens, rigid and unmoving. She begins to smell of salt. 

Neither of them speak for a long while. Ligeia’s stomach twists itself into knots. Could she have…? she thinks. I might’ve hurt her. I might’ve given up too easily. “I…” She draws in a deep breath. “You’re right, actually.”

Echo shifts. She curls around her, twisting like a question mark.

“I never tried. I assumed that this was it, with no way out. But I guess you can never know unless you try.”

“What do you want to try?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I want to help.”

Ligeia forces herself to sit up, leaning against the wall for support. “I — I don’t understand. You can come and go as you please. You don’t have to—”

“I don’t like seeing you hurt.” The words burst out of Echo. “ I want to be here. I don’t want to abandon you — not like the way they did to me.”

**********

Ligeia flies down and lands on a rocky outcropping of the island. “I found nothing on this side,” she pants up at the sky. “How about you?”

Echo brushes past her to the chart of letters scratched in a patch of dirt. “Neither did I,” she says, blowing a leaf over the letters. “The barrier doesn’t stop me, but I can feel it.”

“Really?”

“The air feels different. There’s a sharp tingling, like ozone after a lightning strike.” 

Feathers rise on the back of Ligeia’s neck. “Does it hurt?” she asks, her voice inches from an alarmed squawk.

The leaf skitters in the dirt. “No, no! Not at all, I promise.”

“Oh, good.” Her shoulders slump. She shifts her weight, swishing her tail feathers. “Nothing here makes you uncomfortable, does it? I know I can’t offer you much, but—”

“No,” Echo spells out, this time a little slower. “Nothing here causes me pain.”

“I’m glad you aren’t hurting. I just…” Ligeia bites her lip. “I just hope you feel good things as well.”

“Why?”

“Well, you’re my guest. That makes me a host, and I should be thinking about your comfort. I want you to be happy for as long as you’re here.” 

“Hospitality is the least of your worries. It’s not important, Ligeia.“

“You’re important.”

The air ripples backwards. It might be Ligeia’s imagination, but Echo seems to warm several degrees. “You — well. So are you.”

Ligeia’s face flushes, her toes digging deep into the dirt. “We’re both important,” she relents.

“Let’s not think of ourselves as a host and a guest. Think of us as… colleagues. As equals who happen to share the same space and have the same goal.”

“You’re right.” Ligeia finds herself smiling. She spreads her wings out at the rest of the island, her smile turning wry. “It’s not like I have much of a home in the first place.”

The air jitters around her, high and whistling like laughter. “No,” Echo agrees.

“So what’d you like to do then, my colleague?”

“Last one to find a weak spot has to touch seaweed?”

“How professional.” Ligeia grins, already spreading her wings. She soars off and flies as close to the barrier as she can, her talons darting out to tap against it. She lets herself fall a little lower and traces its curve.

The surface dips for the slightest moment. 

She almost stops dead mid-air, her stomach dropping. The air stirs beneath her. Echo is there, having felt the same patch of wall. She shivers with the same excitement.

“This is where the ships come in,” Ligeia says, pounding her wings to stay afloat. “Do you think, passing through here over and over, they thinned the wall?”

“‘Thinned the wall,’” Echo agrees, vibrating.

Ligeia lets out a stunned laugh. “We have a weak spot. We — wait!” Her grin widens. “You have to touch seaweed!”

“‘Seaweed?’”

“A promise is a promise!”

The air heaves around her like a long, weary groan, and Ligeia cackles. 

As the sun sets, the two of them find themselves back in the cavern and staring down a long, slimy strip of seaweed. Ligeia bites her lip. The seaweed twitches, pushed by a light breeze. Then, the air shudders. A snort escapes Ligeia. “How does—”

A gust of wind blows the seaweed into her face.

While she claws it off, Echo hiccups around her in that surprised laugh. Ligeia feels any desire for retribution melt in her chest at the sound. 

**************

“What’ll you do when you get out?”

Echo speaks up with the rustle of a leaf over a chart in the dirt. They stand on the island again, staring at the weak spot. Ligeia blinks out of thought. “That’s… a good question.”

Echo startles around her. “You don’t know?”

“I hadn’t thought about it before,” she admits, shuffling her feet. Now she thinks of flying anywhere. She thinks of soaring through clouds, of going back to where she and her—

“My sisters,” she says.

“‘Sisters?’” Echo repeats. 

“They were also turned into sirens. I haven’t — it’s been so long. I’d like to find them.” She squares her shoulders, setting her jaw in a determined line. “I’d want to get them out, too.”

“So you’d want to stay with them.”

“I don’t think I’d let them out of my sight.”

The smell of salt in the air grows stronger. “Of course,” Echo says, quiet and flat.

Ligeia frowns. “Is something wrong?”

“No.”

Unease coils in Ligeia’s gut. She tries to shake it off, hopping to the edge of the cliff and perching there. “Well, that’s what I think I’d do, at least. I don’t know if they’d even want to see me.” Tossing hair over her shoulder, she continues, “They’d love to meet you, though!” 

The air stiffens. “Wait. Would they meet me?”

Ligeia shrugs. “I think they’d like to get to know you. I’d like to introduce you and everything.”

“You mean you want to — to keep talking to me? Once all of this is over?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“But do you want it?”

“Of course. I like talking to you.”

“I’m the only person you can talk to at the moment. That‘ll change once this is over,” Echo says, the words and wind slowing to a crawl. “I don’t know if you’ll want to keep seeing me when—”

“Why not? I’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” Ligeia said, tilting her head. “You’re my friend. I couldn’t leave you.”

The ensuing pause is thick. It occurs to Ligeia that Echo called them colleagues, not friends. But she doesn’t say anything to deny it. There’s only ripples of shock in the air — and, judging by its sudden frigidity, there’s some doubt.

“I know you only have my words,” she begins, softening her voice. “So I understand if you don’t believe it. I’ll prove myself, however long that takes.”

They don’t say much else to each other for the rest of the day. But the air above her nest is a little warmer, a little closer, that night. She fluffs out her feathers, making herself soft to lean on. And so they both say enough. 

[trashcanalienist]

LIGEIA - LADY OF LIGHTNING

Edgar Allan Poe devoted four pages to the description of the lady Ligeia - ah, but her the most significant - the most viscerally important - woman! - and this is, in riveted eyes of madness and deep sepulchral passion, the highest form of literature.

I know the lady and I know her as a collection of conspiring concepts, of which without any one she would cease to be coherent and in conjunction of all she is formed full and elaborate; the very soul of strange and elegant beauty, of brilliant, living electricity of mind and marble vigilance of flesh. Nothing like such description has ever been - to my deepest pleasure - witnessed by these careful, nervous eyes of mine. It is to witness, for it unfolds before me with lovingly galvanized ease of effort.

And - to question the accuracy, the decency, the method of a word; to bring regretfully contemptuous doubt to the language itself - has there been such perfect expression of the authorship of one struck so vocally by the lightning and all its storm, has there ever been such expression in all the delicate and desperate expressions of man? could there be?