#limestone with traces of paint

[clairity-org]

Virgin of the Annunciation, Paris, ca 1300-1310, Limestone 1/19/16 by Sharon Mollerus

[theancientwayoflife]

~ Relief with Profile of Ramesses II.

Place of origin: Egypt

Period: 19th Dynasty ; Reign of Ramesses II

Date: 1279-1213 B.C.

Medium: Limestone with traces of paint.

[wherethefireliliesgrow]

Linear Lines (Part 2 of Clerestory Rendezvous)

Yoo Jimin x Reader

GENRE: fluff, angst

TYPE: Two Shot, Request

You can find the first part, Clerestory Rendezvous here

You, adorned with a white scarf delicately wrapped over your shoulders, swiftly pulled into the parking lot of the familiar cathedral. The soft sunlight cast a subtle warmth before yielding to the November breeze's chill, prompting a shiver as you stepped out of the car. Cursing inwardly at your tardiness, a soft jingle emanated from the blue bracelet on your wrist. You hastily brushed through your wavy hair before ascending the stony stairs that seemed to lead directly to the cause of your heart nearly leaping out of your chest.

Standing before the towering wooden doors, you took a sharp breath before gradually walking in, the echoing of your footsteps resonating abnormally loud within the hushed limestone walls. It had been a while since your last visit, and the thought of Jimin standing under the clerestory windows clouded your mind whenever you returned.

Ethereal glitters from the sunlight scattered through the clerestory windows, painting the marble floors with colorful hues. It was just as beautiful as you remembered, but the reason for your breathlessness was not the cathedral; it was the girl standing in front of the candlelight, a breathtaking smile gracing her lips as she stared at you.

Your heart lurched at the sight of Jimin, momentarily stunned by her presence. Snug in a woolen grey sweater, her hair now back to a raven black, with perfect bangs framing her face, she looked even more enchanting than through your screen. Despite countless FaceTime calls and watching all of her comeback videos, seeing her physically in front of you caused your brain to short-circuit.

"Are you just going to stare at me all day?" Jimin laughed, her nose scrunching adorably at your frozen state.

Your eyes scanned her face, your heart tingling at the sound of her heavenly voice, yet you remained rooted in place.

With another adorable giggle, Jimin took a few steps forward and reached down to tug at your hands. "Y/N-nie." She gently pulled you closer, hoping to break you out of your trance. Her long arms wrapped around your waist as she put her chin on your shoulder, burying her face into your neck.

She deeply inhaled your floral scent, tinged with the familiar faint trace of pastels. Her eyes closed in contentment to finally have you close in her arms after months of longing. The past year had been tough on the idol, with continuous comebacks and endless traveling for performances. AESPA's popularity had soared, and her company insisted on maintaining the momentum. She had barely enough time to sleep, let alone visit you.

The feeling of her hot breath on your neck finally broke you out of your trance. Your arms automatically reached up to pull her closer, eliminating any distance between you two.

 "I missed you," you muttered, your voice slightly muffled by her hair.

Jimin pulled back, grinning at you with soft eyes twinkling. She cupped your face with warm hands, gently caressing your cheeks, leaving a soft tingle in their wake.

 "I missed you more, jagi."

Unable to contain yourself, you looked into her eyes, feeling like you held the galaxies in her universe. Your eyes shifted from her soft honey hues to her full pink lips. Before you could initiate a kiss, she placed her forefinger on your lips, halting you.

 "Let's not blind God with our kisses," Jimin giggled at your pout, pulling you along as she walked out the doors.

Leading her to your car, hands intertwined and swinging between you, she was confused to see you stop in front of a sleek black vehicle. "New car?" She asked.

"Yeah, thought you might've been tired of sitting in my beat-up truck. Last time, you got paint all over your expensive dress," you laughed, turning to look at her.

"I like the truck. It had its own charm," Jimin said, reaching up to play with the hairs at the nape of your neck.

With soft sunlight cascading on her pale skin, making her light freckles barely visible, you couldn't help but bring your faces closer, brushing her nose with the tips of yours. 

"It had charm because you were there," you said, kissing her eyelids. You heard her take a sharp intake of breath, shivering slightly.

Jimin couldn't resist any longer and closed the gap between your lips. She pulled your face down, and your soft lips met hers. Sighing into the kiss, she felt your lips curve up in a smile. You allowed her tongue access without any resistance, shivering as it met yours. Gently pushing her, her back leaned on the car, ensuring there was no space between your bodies.

When air became a problem, you were the first to pull away. Jimin let out a whine in protest, her lips trailing behind yours. You laughed at her adorableness, looking at her once more. Her eyes were still closed, long lashes fluttering, and her lips were swollen, with her lipstick smudged. This messy version of Jimin was your favorite, and your heart warmed at the thought that you were the only one to see  it.

“C’mon, pabo. We have places to be.” You messed up her hair a bit more, laughing at her as she cleared her throat and glared at you, trying to conceal how much the make-out session affected her.

You unlocked the sleek black car, and she slid into the passenger seat with a satisfied grin. As you settled into the driver's seat, Jimin couldn't help but run her fingers along the dashboard, appreciating the unfamiliar but luxurious surroundings.

"Alright, where are we off to?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

A playful smile tugged at your lips as you started the engine. "It's a surprise," you teased, winking at her before pulling out of the cathedral's parking lot. .

.

.

.

As you drove, Jimin filled you in on all the things you missed for the past year. The drive was long, so you had stopped at the bakery she was obsessed with the last time she was there, for a few of her favorite Fougasse. It felt right, with your hands intertwined and resting on her legs, as she fed you bits of her Fougasse (more like all of the olives because she hated the taste). It felt like home, and it seemed like she never left. You wondered if you were soulmates in your past life, as she appeared to understand everything about you.

“Are you plotting to murder me in a deserted place?” Jimin teased, a playful glint in her eyes, as you maneuvered down another empty country road.

Acres of land and grass stretched endlessly, devoid of any other cars in sight.

"Hush," you laughed, bringing her hand to your lips for a kiss as your attention stayed fixed on the road.

Her heart fluttered at the gesture; she wished for nothing more than for you to pull over and resume the previous make-out session in the backseat.

“I’m taking you to meet my grandma.”

Silence hung in the air as Jimin's mind raced with concerns. She felt immense happiness at the thought of meeting your family but couldn't shake the fear of potential disapproval from your grandma.

"You mentioned last time that you wanted to go somewhere in the countryside, so I thought it would be nice if we could stay at my grandma's for a couple of days. But we can go back to my place if you're uncomfortable. I'm sorry I didn't ask you first." Mistaking her silence for anger, you slowly pulled over to the side of the road, turning around to look at her with your full attention. 

Jimin quickly shook her head.

"Don't be sorry. I'm just scared that she won't like me. I can't speak French."

"I already told her about you. The fact that you speak Korean definitely won her approval." You laughed, finding her worries endearing. "She always chastised me for my broken Korean."

Still uncertain, Jimin nodded slightly. Sighing, you cupped her face gently with warm hands, attempting to soothe her. You left a small kiss on her forehead, and she leaned in immediately for more. 

"How can I make you feel better?" 

"A kiss," she said without hesitation.

You grinned before pressing another soft kiss on her nose. "Better?"

Shaking her head, she pointed to her lips, a playful pout on her face.

Amused, you gave her a peck on her cheek. "How about now?"

She glared at you in feigned annoyance. 

“I need a couple more.” Jimin said, grinning at you mischievously before locking her lips with yours. 

Before you knew it, you were putty in Jimin’s arms, with her graceful maneuvering herself onto your lap, hands in your hair, and her teeth gently nibbling on your lower lips.

.

.

.

.

The drive to your grandma’s house took a bit longer than expected, the sun having dipped below the horizon by the time you pulled onto the pebbled road leading to the cottage.

Jimin stepped out of the car in awe, savoring the crisp, clean scent of the air and the picturesque surroundings. Your grandma's quaint two-story cottage, constructed from butter-colored bricks, stood proudly amidst a charming garden. Ivy adorned the exterior walls, lending an air of age and mystery. Jimin felt more at peace than she had ever been, far removed from the city lights and urban chaos. She was here, surrounded by the tranquility of nature, with you.

Gently holding her hand, you led her through the garden.

A thunderous bark echoed from the door, which swung open to reveal a large brown Chow Chow dog bounding towards you.

"Bear!" You laughed with excitement before getting playfully tackled to the grass as the dog showered you with affection.

"He’s been waiting for you for hours. What took you so long?" A raspy voice came from the door.

A frail old lady, with wisps of grey hair in a puff, leaned on the door sill with a cane in her hand. Her face bore the marks of time, yet her eyes gleamed with brightness. She exuded kindness and a keen elegance that you also possessed.

“Ah, that’s why.” Your grandma looked at Jimin, and then at the faint hickies covering the idol’s neck, a smile playing on her lips.

“She’s a showstopper. I don’t blame you.”

The raven-haired beauty blushed in embarrassment, her face turning a shade of red as she stumbled forward to shake your grandma’s hand.

To her surprise, your grandma pulled her into a warm hug. “You make Y/N happy, and this is all that matters to me.”

You observed the scene with adoration as Bear continued to slobber all over your face. The two most important people in your life were now together with you. There was nothing more you could ask for.

It turned out that Jimin's worries were unfounded, as she gained your grandma’s approval right from the start. Another point in her favor was when Jimin successfully brewed a traditional kimchi jjigae she had learned from her mom. Your grandma nodded in approval, giving you a wink and whispering, “You better marry her.” They conversed in Korean, at times too rapid for you to comprehend, but you didn’t mind. Seeing Jimin so happy, her face flushed from the soju, and your grandma patting her arms in adoration, this was all you needed. The night passed quickly, filled with your grandma sharing embarrassing stories of your childhood and showing off your awkward baby pictures to the idol. It was well past midnight before your grandma retreated to her room.

“I love your grandma,” Jimin said, laying on your childhood bed, dressed in an adorable fluffy pink pajama set.

"And she loves you," you grinned at her before turning off the lights and settling in bed with her.

She immediately snuggled up to you, her nose stuck to your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. You shivered as her cool breath blew across your neck, goosebumps popping out at her close proximity. 

You hesitated before saying the thing that had been on your mind for a while. You never really brought up the courage to tell the idol.

“But not as much as I love you.”

You felt Jimin still, not taking a single breath. Panic set in, worried that you scared her off. You weren’t together physically for much time, but you couldn’t help falling deeper in love with the idol.

The silence felt so long, but before you could open your mouth to change the topic, Jimin let out a small sigh of relief.

“I love you, too,” she said, giddy and her heart feeling like it was about to burst. “I wanted to say this for so long.”

You pressed your lips to hers, finding solace with her in your arms. The room was hushed as soft whispers of affection and the gentle rustle of clothes falling to the floor filled the space.

Neither of you got much sleep that night.

. 

. 

.

.

The two of you fell into an easy routine, as if you had been living together for half of your lives. You would wake up early, leave lingering kisses on her bare back as she snuggled deeper into your pillow, and start your day with your grandma’s hearty breakfast. Retreating to the study room or the backyard when the weather was nice, you'd begin your work.

After graduation, you had immediately joined one of the biggest event companies in Europe as their event illustrator, working on significant projects, particularly for the entertainment industry. As the Paris Fashion Show approached, your manager requested you to work remotely. The upside was that Jimin was scheduled to attend the show this year, allowing you to see her in all her glory, posing in front of your designs.

As you worked during the morning, Jimin would stir awake to the gentle knocks of your grandma on the bedroom door. Her frail voice followed, calling out “gang-aji” affectionately.  Jimin would then indulge in a delightful breakfast and accompany your grandma for a stroll, often driving her to the early market for groceries and errands. 

The afternoons were yours to share. You would then take Jimin on hikes with Bear, or take her to the lake nearby for a picnic and charm her with all of your random survival hacks you learned from Girl Scouts. The days passed filled with love, laughter, and soft kisses. The initially planned two-day stay was extended to another two weeks, and soon, you were to return to the real world.

You noticed Jimin becoming less affectionate as the day of your departure neared. Despite trying not to think too much about it, you couldn’t help but overthink that this might be your last trip together.

“I don’t want to leave,” Jimin sighed, seeking solace by lying on your lap, her hand idly caressing Bear's large head.

“Hmm?” You answered, concentrating on sketching the idol in your lap, biting your pencil as you stared at your art in your sketchbook.

Jimin waited patiently for you to complete that final stroke, a gentle smile gracing her lips. The days with you had only deepened her affection, and she wondered if she could return to the months of separation. She had started to intentionally distance herself, preparing herself for the impending drawbacks of leaving France, and of leaving you. Tomorrow, you were scheduled to head to Paris for final checks on the fashion show site, while she had meetings lined up with her agency and manager to prepare for the fashion show.

Setting aside your sketchbook, you gazed down at her, brushing soft strands of hair from her face. Jimin looked healthier, dark circles erased, and a few healthy pounds gained, giving radiance to her face.

“Do we have to go tomorrow?” Jimin pouted, her face contorted into a grimace. 

“Unfortunately, yes. But we can always come back whenever you want, baby.”

The idol’s eyes lit up at your comment, but immediately dampened as she thought about the upcoming schedule. Another comeback was scheduled, which meant less time to see you.

"When are you leaving France?" you finally asked, carefully inspecting your girlfriend's expression.

This had become a touchy subject, always leading to small fights whenever you brought up her schedule, so you started to avoid talking about it.

Jimin avoided your eyes and continued to stare at the sky, “Right after the event.”

You nodded in understanding, trying to push back the lump in your throat at the thought of saying goodbye.

“Do you know when your next break is? I could go visit you.”

Jimin simply sat up and harshly said, “No idea,” her eyes burning with frustration.

The conversation immediately changed moods. Jimin didn’t mean to lash out, but this has been bothering her for quite a while. She hated the idea of having to go on days without seeing your face again, she loathed the fact that she could possibly never step out of the spotlights, and most of all, she abhorred herself for thinking that you are just a dream too good to be true and something she would never be able to fully be with you.

Slightly taken aback at her reaction, you nodded, trying not to show your hurt.

“It’s okay, we can figure it out.”

You were met with silence.

.

.

.

.

After a tearful goodbye with your grandmother, Jimin and you got into the car in the early hours of dawn. The drive to Paris was a quiet one, with only the soft hum of the car engine accompanying the two of you as you navigated the familiar roads. The atmosphere inside the car was heavy with unspoken emotions, the looming thought of reality dampening Jimin’s emotions. It seemed that the closer you got to the event, the more closed off your girlfriend became.

Jimin stared out of the window, lost in her thoughts. The country roads slowly changed to the highway, and the trees and sunshine were replaced by the bustling city skyscrapers. She couldn't shake the feeling that her dreams and yours were diverging as you navigated towards reality. It seemed like the past weeks with you were just a dream after all, something Jimin could never have. She wondered if she would ever be able to see your grandma again.

As you parked the car in front of your hotel—shabby but clean, all you could afford—the silence lingered. You exchanged glances, both hesitant to address the unspoken tension that hung in the air. Jimin's eyes, once filled with love, now held a mixture of longing and apprehension.

Once inside the room, you turned to Jimin, searching for words that could hopefully bridge the growing gap between you. She met your gaze, her eyes a stormy black, exposing the internal struggle she was facing.

"I'm sorry," Jimin whispered, her voice barely audible.

You approached her, gently cupping her face in your hands. "There's nothing to be sorry for, Jimin. We'll figure this out, together."

“I just…I just don’t think I can handle being away from you for that long again.” The idol muttered, eyes slightly tearing up.

“Don’t think about it.” You leaned over to kiss her tears away. “We’ll be together in no time.”

“Will we?” Jimin’s voice raised an octave higher in frustration, “I have another two comebacks scheduled, and you’re here working. Is the next time I get to see you another year later?”

You stepped back, rubbing your forehead, trying to calm down your temper. You knew Jimin was not lashing out at you; she was just insecure about how things were.

“What do you want me to do, Jimin?” You asked, knowing full well what her answer was going to be.

She hesitated, wringing her hands in nervousness and desperation. She knew that the moment she voiced her thoughts, things will never be the same. 

“You could leave with me. Go back to Korea with me.”

You raised your voice, furious at how selfish her request was. “I can’t just leave my job. I can’t just follow you around like a lost puppy.”

“Well, I can’t just quit being an idol.” Jimin's voice cracked, her body swaying as she tried to comfort herself.

She looked so small, so defeated, consumed by her thoughts and the overwhelming sadness.

As her tears fell, a sharp ache rippled through your chest. Seeing her cry like this, witnessing her pain over you, tore at your heart. You couldn't bear it. You pulled her back into your arms, but this time, the embrace felt heavy with the weight of uncertainty. 

“Shh…I’m sorry, baby.” You stroked her hair, trying to stifle her sobs.

“It will take us some time to figure things out, but I promise I will find the time to visit you as much as possible, don’t worry.”

“You’re still here, and somehow I already miss you.” Jimin cries into your chest, shaking uncontrollably.

“The past weeks with you made me want nothing more than to be with you every second of the day, but I keep feeling that our lives are so different, like we’re just two parallel linear lines.”

Your heart crumpled at her confession; you could feel it break into a million pieces at the thought of her doubting that your lives are never meant to be intertwined. Perhaps she was right; perhaps you and her were too different, but you were adamant about making this work.

You loved her too much to give up.

“We’ll make it work.” You whispered, but even the promise sounded hollow to you.

As you dropped Jimin off at the luxurious hotel booked by her company, her words of linear lines, of being parallel, kept echoing in your ears. Jimin was a child of stardom; lights followed wherever she went, and you felt that she deserved nothing but the best. and the stark contrast between her grandeur and your shabby hotel, along with your grandma’s run-down cottage, struck you with a painful realization. The nagging thought at the back of your mind of never being enough now loomed large, wavering your confidence.

It was ridiculous how you actually believed you and Jimin were meant to be together. Your life has been parallel since the start.

“I’ll see you soon.” You said, as Jimin slowly unbuckled her seatbelt.

She nodded, trying her best not to cry. This felt more like a goodbye than a see you later, but she wasn’t ready for either.

Jimin leaned over and pressed her lips on yours, trying to convey her love to you. She hoped you understood. She hoped that this wasn't the last.

“I love you.” You muttered against her lips, tasting the salt of her tears.

“I miss you.”

As Jimin walked away, disappearing into her towering hotel, you were left sitting alone in your car. The echoes of shared laughter and whispered confessions lingered, an unforgettable imprint of a love that tried to fight against boundaries.

You didn't fail to notice how her bracelet was situated neatly on the dashboard in front of the passenger seat.

.

.

.

.

“Karina! Karina!”

“Look here, Karina!”

“Turn for us!”

Shouts could be heard from the crowd of flashing lights as Karina walked down the red carpet. She moved towards her band members with grace and confidence, poised with precision, dazzling everyone with her beauty.

A faint smile could be seen on her face as she looped her arms with Winter and posed for picture after picture. But you knew her well enough to notice her hand shake slightly in nervousness and the way her eyes tightened when her ex-lover wrapped her arms around her waist for another picture for the scandalous tabloids.

Your heart throbbed in pain, wanting nothing more than to cross the sea of people, breach the barriers, and pull your Jimin into a comforting embrace. But she was no longer your Jimin; she was Karina.

Just as you predicted, she seamlessly blended with the tone and manner of the event decorations, as you had based everything on the thought of her. Karina appeared angelic in her white gown, fitting perfectly with the theme. The soft, colorful glitters of the chandeliers, meticulously designed to replicate the clerestory windows where you first met, cascaded onto her silhouette. She looked unbelievably celestial, almost too perfect to be real. A year ago, you thought she belonged in the Musée du Louvre, and tonight she confirmed that.

As she gracefully moved towards the event, you stood quietly by the walls, dressed in black attire, attempting to blend in as an event worker, avoiding notice from the crowd. Hundreds of people separated you from her, all eager to catch a glimpse of the captivating ethereal being you had come to know so intimately, yet remained a mystery.

And then it struck you.

Karina was the art, and you were just another person in the crowd, admiring her from a distance. 

You were hers, but she could never be just yours. 

You were linear lines, just never meant to intersect.

Well...this ended differently than what I had planned 😬

For all you fluff lovers, I'm sorry 🥲 I couldn't stop myself

[screamingcrows]

Nothing will be spared

Chapter 2 - Good luck fingering oblivion

Notes: Whatever. *yeets this*. Don't squint too hard at this, and do not use this for AI. Tags: dottore x fem!reader, reincarnation au, canon-divergent, angel reader, death, hurt/comfort, medium burn but it will go up in flames, teyvat speculation if you squint, written pre Natlan release Minors, blank, and ageless blogs; DNI

Nothing seemed remiss as you soared, cool air calming the flurry of nerves that felt on the verge of combustion. It felt mocking. The best course of action would be to inform Her of what had transpired, She would know what to do, She had to. Despite the ringing in your ears and the countless assurances of faith that clawed to gain hold at your mind, you had yet to return to Her embrace.

From afar, the place of your creation resembled a painting, foreboding oranges bleeding into the violent purple of the sky, further highlighting the ivory spires that had remained unmoved for millennia.

How many sunrises had you seen since Zandik's soul had been returned to the earth? It would only be so long before you had to return to Her embrace, lest they all grow suspicious.

What would happen once you admitted to such a critical lapse of judgement? There had already been doubt and distrust in the hearts of the other watchers, with this as proof of your incompetence, they were bound to plead that you be removed.

Discomfort weighed heavily at the prospect of being without purpose, wings beating a little harder to keep afloat as you paced in circles, as though the repetition could somehow change the inevitability of the outcome.

Guilt festered in an unseen wound that often had you wondering if it was akin to the unrest Zandik's fractures would surely cause. However much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, it would be folly to meddle with the mortal's life without knowing of potential repercussions. You resigned yourself to watch him from afar, needing some way to soothe the ache of impending doom that had lodged itself between your ribs.

Once you were certain there was nothing immediately wrong you would return and repent, She would know sooner or later. The best you could hope for was a merciful sentence.

He should count himself lucky, he supposed, to have been born within the imposing walls of a flourishing oasis, food and drink never further away than the tug of a servant's robes. Music wafted through the air from below, breaking the static those memories imposed and instead carrying a hint of spice and pungent flowers into the room. It was the twelfth time these celebrations were held in his name. Still, they were far more pleasant than memories that were no use denying, instances where he swore he tasted ash atop his tongue and the scent of burning athel clung greedily to his soft linens.

Most days were spent inside the safety of the palace walls, sheltered from the churning unrest that prospered in the wake of their wealth. Teachers came and went, bringing every imaginable combination of tomes, models, maps, even rare samples of flora and fauna were brought before the boy. None of them awoke any interest rivalling rhe night sky and the mechanical constructions walking the streets, much to the chagrin of them all. Both topics something he could only observe from afar.

'Mature for his age' - hardly a complement and more of a curse from their lips, lamenting the difficulty he brought. That time spent in bitter complaint could've been put to use listening instead, perhaps if they listened, they could make sense of how memories he hadn't made devoured his mind one fragment at a time.

Soft fingertips traced along the cooling limestone, chin resting atop the windowsill as longing and impatience thrummed with ferocity as darkness swallowed the horizon. The latest tutor had been a spindly man, his crooked fingers tracing simple symbols while expecting Zandik to mimic the movements. What good was receiving lessons in a language you already knew? No matter how fervently he studied, the language that should flow within his veins felt borrowed atop his tongue.

As did the name they used for him. Not quite right.

It wasn't the one summoned to the forefront of his mind whenever he was forced to give it out to some stranger. He buried his head briefly into the comforting embrace of his arms.

Many things were withheld from him that much he knew; a father who seemed unable to remain still in his company, a mother whose eyes shifted between complete vacancy and deep sorrow, knowledge he was barred from attaining. They kept things from him, that much was plainly visible, why else would he be denied unsupervised entry into the studies? Wasn't it in everyone's interest that he knew their history, all of it?

Flames licked along the streets, countless braziers having been lit to serve as backdrop for the celebration. Reminding himself that they were braziers, not pyres, shouldn't have been as difficult as it was. His head ached, the dull thud reminiscent enough of knocking against a door that a wayward glance was cast, waiting with frustration for cold silence to be the only response.

Blaming incense and heat for the fits of madness that had haunted him since the first time juvenile eyes had fallen upon a celestial chart was easy enough.

The wooden door to his chambers creaked open without warning, quickly followed by a call of that foreign name, causing the boy to spin, crimson eyes wide with indignation in hopes of scaring off the intruder.

"I want to be alone."

As recognition settled, he knew neither petulant expression nor clipped words would be enough, the smug smile upon the guest's lips confirming as much. Every creaking step she drew closer seemed to reverberate through his being, the almost ethereal youth warring with the few comments he had caught of his grandmother's age.

"Do not dismiss me so hastily, little one. I merely caught wind that my most adored grandson had once more refused to participate," the glint in her eyes spoke of unmatched cunning, "we all want to ensure your comfort."

A dead silence ensued as she went to perch on the bed, expectantly petting the spot beside her as the surface of her skin rippled. Not pure energy, but close. He knew the jinn had served his grandfather, the matter of love was something they refused to touch upon with him. For all the memories he had, there was no recollection of seeing anything but pale amusement. 'Our love was sweet as honey'.

"I'm fine," he knew it was a poor lie, still reluctant to tear his gaze from the sky as he sat beside the jinn, "don't like crowds is all."

"There'll be no grand banquets once you're king?"

The thought of assuming such a position, one bathed in sunlight, made his stomach churn with unease, tainting the firmness of his voice so he resigned to merely shaking his head. Just the thought of being surrounded by loud cheers had his mind running amok, screaming about a doomsday he didn't know. His heart pumped a little harder.

Fingers combed through his hair with foreign gentleness, for a moment causing his vision to flicker as another took the jinn's place, the phantom gone in a feathery cloud.

"How very unlike your line, I'm sure the city will prosper under your rule," she chose her words too carefully, "whatever you bring to the throne."

Assuming a mantle of power had yet to become a tangible concept despite how everyone outside his family already bowed down. Much as the stars, it was dangled just out of reach, inciting a longing that ran deeper than the unspoken clefts between them. Liloupar was always moving, shifting uneasily as an errant leaf caught in one of the many aqueducts their golden lord had filled with life.

Eyes closed, the sting of a palm against his cheek was easily summoned forth, "Father won't even let me near."

Not a beat of silence was allowed to pass before her laughter rang out, tousling his hair with more purpose than before.

"Oh don't fret over the inevitable. A day will come where he must lay down the mantle. It happens to everyone, just as it will happen to you," a sharp pinch to his cheek accompanied the flicker of darkness, "in a long long time of course. History writes itself whether we want it or not."

He simply shrugged his shoulders, uncomfortable with the understanding in her voice and more than a little reluctant to engage. There was nothing to be done against her insistence, and soon enough, a servant had been called, bringing with them a wooden tray bearing two cups.

Crimson liquid sloshed up the sides of the cup, the drink deceptively sweet upon his tongue.

"Let me tell you a story, little one, of how you came to be," it caught his attention immediately, ignoring the bitter aftertaste now lingering at the back of his throat, "beautiful and kind, a delicate being descended upon this place-"

"The middle of the city? Wouldn't that have been-"

A rap to his free hand quickly dispersed any protests from the boy, and she continued with a satisfied hum, "Impatient little creature, this is long before any city stood here."

"I've heard this story a million times over already," he downed more of the crushed fruit, licking his lips and looking to the cup in her hands, grinning in satisfaction when it was relinquished.

"As I was about to say, she birthed life into these lands wherever she stepped, and formed bonds with other enlightened beings. A truly arrogant man refused to heed her warnings, and in her eternal kindness, she was lost to quell divine fury. Though we mourn her slumber, she remains with us in the blooming flowers and the gentle gaze of the moon, and one day, she will walk among us once more."

The full cup rested forgotten between his hands, eyes drinking in the starlight reflected in the Liloupar's eyes. His own thoughts had already begun drifting, caught on the last bit of her statement. 'Walk among us once more' had his consciousness diving into tainted waters, oblivious to the history lesson taking place. Though it certainly had more flourish, every tutor had already outlined The Mistress of Dreams' exploits.

"I helped your grandfather build this city after her passing, he was a beloved man back then," the beat of silence that passed wasn't enough for his thoughts to focus on her warning tone, "but you are even kinder and more brilliant already. Don't doom yourself to repeat our mistakes, many will offer you guidance, trust yourself, I'm certain you will lead our people to their destiny."

"I know my absence has been a burden upon you, believe me when I say it was not an easy decision," the falsehoods were honeyed upon your tongue, chest aching with shame as they poured forth, "thank you, Artiya"

Your fellow watcher's gaze remained unmoved as they marched you through gilded halls, unperturbed by the silent bustle of others. You didn't expect forgiveness readily offered, but the deadly silence was disheartening to say the least. After being away, the heavy note of styrax that clung to the air felt invasive in much the same way their eyes did when fixed upon you.

"Dozens of seasons have passed since your last appearance. Four souls were without guidance for far too long," crystalline needles pierced through your skin with every word, "were it up to me, you wouldn't have been allowed back."

There was nothing to say in rebuttal, knowing full well that abandoning your duty to observe, for you refused to recognize it as wallowing in anxious obsession, had no excuse. But wasn't it ridiculous that something preached as the pinnacle of protection would be so fragile? If a sentimental mistake could shatter the carefully spun fates, wasn't that all the more proof that the system itself was flawed? A sharp snap of metal against the marbled path scattered those blasphemous thoughts as though nothing more than dust.

Artiya gave a sharp nod, having come to a halt where the path widened into the grand platform where only She waited. So there would be no prying eyes this time at least.

Bathed in the pale light from the forever grieving moon, She would have appeared frozen were it not for the slight upward twitch of Her lips. With all the dignity of a wounded sparrow, you approached Her perch, lowering your head in submission and acceptance should She descend upon you.

"Dearest child, an explanation?"

She needn't utter more, the words having already begun to whittle down any ambition of masking your shortcomings. Having jeopardized a soul, and by extension the balance you'd sworn to retain, even if by mistake, was unforgiveable. It was with tar coating your throat, surely a reflection of your soul, that the words forced their way out.

"I was… Preoccupied," you swallowed as best you could, feeling deception rot your tongue and slur your words, "I only acted in accordance with my oath, I swear it…"

You had to wonder, how much had She already known? How much of the path had been preordained by the very figure now looking down upon you with the eyes of a scolding parent. Briefly, you questioned if Zandik had found himself under such a watchful gaze as well, pursuing what he thought correct while knowing disappointment, at best, was inevitable.

The brief glimmer in Her eyes betrayed that your waver hadn't gone unnoticed, and a hint of dread dispersed the musings as She spoke, "You know this is not enough," and you did, just as her next words were no surprise either, not that it lessened the sting, "your kin grow agitated and I am not immune to their persuasion."

She owed you nothing, and you should give Her everything in turn for being granted life. It was a truth carved into your bones, spun into your destiny - most likely it was the very foundation upon which you existed - and so the thought of failure drove itself between your shoulders and twisted. You had no right to blame a mortal soul for kindling warmth in your chest, not when sympathy was the fuel your own hands had brought in abundance.

"In a-" no, not a lapse of judgement, was it? "A mishap occurred, and I felt compelled to observe until I was certain nothing disastrous would come of it."

Yes. That was it. You did not take life but rekindled it, and the quick solution to the issue had been more than you could bear. Not if something was damaging them every time.

"'A mishap'. Had it not been prudent to request aid and inform me?"

Or had your faith already dimmed too much. The way Her fingers intertwined said it all. The sharp raise of Her brow as well.

You hesitated for a moment, praying it hadn't seeped into your voice, "I didn't deem it necessary to disturb you, Blessed Mother. Forgive me, I misjudged how long I would need-"

"Tell me then, did you give it an end?"

A coy smile played upon Her lips, utterly unfamiliar and vile, eyes further sharpened by the darkness that crept along the corners where the moon was unable to reach. It was gone as fast as it had appeared.

Fearing the sound of the admission, you shook your head, not expecting the single command She uttered.

"Then it appears your vigil has yet to come to an end. Leave no open endings."

There was no trace of appreciation for the way air warped and warmed around your body as you descended, everything muted by the questions that still sat unspoken on your lips. How much transpired behind those molten pools of gold? Every rustle of the breeze as you made for the dunes below whispered that She knew.

'Leave no open endings'

The words nestled under your sternum, sending out little shoots of something that left you breathless and with shaking hands, feeling the urge to lock your fingers around cool metal. You had Her blessing to interfere. No loose endings. No memories. A new beginning was something you were well versed in offering. Even if this felt wrong, Her judgement had to be correct.

Liloupar's embrace was the last place he could recall sleeping peacefully. Dreams had begun to invade his mind over the years as the emancipated populace cried out for aid, the weight of watching as his father refused them any more than the water flowing through their shining city. They had received the freedom they so desired, all been granted the right to chase their own destinies.

Upon reaching adulthood, it wasn't so much the exile that buried itself under his skin, no that had been clear for years from his father's mutterings about fate, but rather how his mother had emerged screaming and fighting with the guards holding her back, 'not another, I can't lose another' her endless cries shaking loose pebbles from the surrounding walls.

Five days had passed in the company of his own thoughts and the scorching sun. His brass mask lay discarded, cooling under the shade of a lonesome palm as he dipped his aching feet into the water. While there were many settlements, the need to put distance between himself and whatever would play out tugged at his limbs.

There was the desire to know, of course, what secrets had been guarded from even him. How did a man once praised for heroic deeds become so entangled in prophesies and speculations that he would throw out his own kin for nothing but a hunch?

'Zandik' had grown certain it had a connection to the vague memories that haunted him. There were mentions of communications between his grandfather and Amon, the possibility for divine wisdom to have passed into the hands of mortals remained present.

Water splashed against his skin, soothing the welts that had formed in places the scorching mask had touched. He had rations for a couple of days after the last trade, enough that he hopefully would not need to put the damnable thing back on before he had healed.

Shifting sand caught his attention, surroundings momentarily a blur as his head turned in alarm, fingers already reaching for the curved sword that would realistically be less than helpful in his hands should a real battle ensue. He held up his free hand to shield from the sun, squinting as they came more properly into view, what fool would be wandering about during noon?

A feathered cloak draped over the stranger's shoulders, an odd choice really. The plumage was too muted to have been plucked from the vultures he knew. Their attire looked entirely foreign yet well kept enough that it seemed unlikely they had been wandering for long. Sword raised in a tentative warning, he saw as their empty hands raised in a placating gesture. His movements faltered for a moment as confusion spread; they weren't carrying any satchels?

"Stay back," he hated how every syllable felt littered with sand, coarse and intrusive in his lungs.

It was a pleasant surprise when they obliged, "I carry no ill intentions, I merely wish to rest for a moment in the shade."

Their voice jolted him, the softness stealing the air from his lungs and sending him stumbling back into the water, only barely catching himself before any truly undignified display could ensue. If the voice was familiar, her eyes were hauntingly so, glittering with pieces the sky coaxed away and set into the sockets. If he looked close enough, would he recognize any of the patterns?

He hadn't even noticed the splash of his weapon slipping into the water, completely forgotten in the face of an uneasy tranquility surrounding the stranger.

No words left his lips, mind racing to figure out why there was such a painful nagging at the back of his skull as he sat back down in the shade, eyes tracking her unnaturally fluid movements with a vacant expression. Nothing moved like that in uneven terrain, not vipers nor scorpions, and certainly not any of the people he had seen.

There was no question in his mind, the certainty in his gut too intense to ignore lest he wanted to regret it forever, the subject would have to be approached, it was only a matter of method. It frustrated him to no end that he knew exactly how it would feel to lay his head in her lap. How it was to awaken to an unchanging sky encircled by lush canopies, soft grass underneath his palms despite never having seen such a paradise realized. Her fingers brushing through his hair and cradling his head close.

Only once the sun had moved several degrees towards the horizon did he breach the tentative peace, "Unusual to travel without supplies," he could only hope the suspicion was concealed enough to not be offensive.

The scorching heat of the sun was nothing compared to the weight of her gaze, in an instant searing through skin and bone to leave him uncomfortably bare.

"I merely carry what I need," a small smile tugged at her lips as they shaped those oddly soothing melodies.

That wasn't useful at all. A slight huff left him before an idea began to circulate; Liloupar always had an empty plate, the stranger could be one of the jinni sent to keep watch over him. How precious. With newfound confidence, he returned her stare with what he hoped to be equal intensity, the urge to laugh making itself known in a flutter upon seeing the way her shoulders rose with tension. This was a path worth pursuing. If she was a jinn, it made sense why there was a familiar feeling blossoming in his chest.

"And you simply don't need food and water?"

A disbelieving scoff left his lips when she gestured towards the clear pool of water in front of them, absolutely ridiculous. His eyes drifted over her form once more, brows furrowing again at the distinct lack of wear. There were no settlements near that she could have just set out from, that was why he'd initially picked this place for rest. More questions pooled in his mouth, frustration building when no reasonable answer presented itself.

"I am not opposed to answering, provided you ask the right questions at the appropriate time," her fond tone had his mind reeling, attempting to pin the source yet gaining nothing but a headache, "I promised to tell you everything in due time."

"You make lofty claims, I'll give you that much." he couldn't keep the sneer out, frustrated with the constant evasion, "do elaborate on the specifics of this promise as I have no recollection of seeing you before."

The faint shimmer outlining her body when he squinted was surely a trick of the light, or perhaps fatigue had finally caught up? Having been confined to luxury for two decades was hardly cause for complaint, but it did leave him uncomfortably vulnerable. Perhaps that had been his father's ploy from the beginning.

"That's not entirely true, is it Zandik? What was it they called you now?"

His twitching hand and sharp inhale betrayed him, heart pounding in his ears as everything froze. There was nothing but the echo filling the air with the same fervor as panic spread from his chest, head shaking vigorously from side to side. No one had known, had they? He'd always kept it to himself, the mere thought of speaking the word causing a disproportionate unease. One he'd chosen to heed anyway. Even her voice did little to clear the tempest now enveloping him.

"I made a mistake, and I do not wish for you to suffer for it."

There was a profound sorrow clinging to the words as she rose, illuminated by the sun she cast a shadow towards him, eyes glowing even as her face was in shadow. It set him off, hands digging into the sand as he thrashed to get up, get away, run, crawl, anything to get away.

[egypt-museum]

Bust of a Priestess of Hathor

The priestess served the Egyptian cow goddess Hathor who unlike many other gods and goddesses had both male and female servants. Egyptian priests were meant to serve the gods and with this responsibility many of them had to follow strict rules to fulfill their duties.

New Kingdom, 18th to 19th Dynasty, ca. 1395 BC-1186 BC. Limestone with traces of paint. Given by his friends in memory of Joseph David Nelson, Jr. On view in Cincinnati Art Museum. Gallery 102. 1966.266 Read more

[ildarotyrannus]

In the spring of last year, I made several color reconstructions of marine reptiles for a thesis and presentation (it was about the reconstruction of marine reptiles) for a conference that was held in Ulyanovsk in September. The drawings were done in ballpoint pen (lineart) and Paint Tool Sai 2.0 (shadows and colors).

The first is reconstruction of Mixosaurus cornalianus, a widespread small Triassic ichthyosaur. I had already drawn a Mixosaurus in water earlier and even wanted to use it in the article, but later changed my mind, deciding that lateral reconstruction would better convey the appearance of soft tissues. This earlier drawing can bee seen here:

Both pieces are based on the fin impressions described in 2020 from a specimen found in the Middle Triassic rocks of the Bezano formation, Italy (www.researchgate.net/publicati…). This specimen has preserved the tissues of the dorsal and caudal fins. Both prints have thin collagen filaments, and at the base of the caudal fin, it was possible to detect the remains of smooth, scaleless skin. The fins have a triangular shape, and the dorsal one is associated with 15-23 trunk vertebrae. In other words, its position turned out to be more

forward then in reconstructions done before his paper.

The second is lateral reconstruction of the metriorhynchid Cricosaurus albersdoerferi, belonging to a widespread genus that inhabited the shallow seas of future Europe, Central America and Argentina. It was not a particularly large animal, reaching from 2 to 3.2 meters in length. Like the first reconstruction of a Cricosaurus, which I performed in the spring, this drawing is based on a specimen that preserved a large volume of soft tissue on the tail (upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia…). Also shown here is the salt gland in the antorbital fenestra, the presence of which was previously indicated in Cricosaurus araucanensis and Dakosaurus andiniensis. The spring work with C. albersdoerferi can be seen below:

Plesiosaurs are mentioned too. This is reconstruction of the polycotylid Mauriciosaurus fernandezi from the Late Cretaceous of Mexico. A complete reptile skeleton preserved in fine-grained rocks was described by a team of paleontologists in 2017: www.researchgate.net/publicati… There are five types of soft tissue imprints around the bones. Among them are dark material, probably left from the walls of the peritoneum, dark gray traces of blubber and impressions of possible small scales. The impressions show that the animal's belly was covered with rectangular scales, which were mixed with inclusions of small fragments closer to the limbs. The scales of the living reptile were almost indistinguishable, so that the skin looked smooth. This beautifully preserved specimen showed that plesiosaurs had much more soft tissue than previously thought. The tail was especially fleshy. Fat deposits created a smooth, streamlined shape, ideal for an agile swimmer.

The last thesis drawing is this reconstruction of the famous Early Jurassic ichthyosaur Stenopterygius quadriscissus. Many of its skeletons of amazing preservation were found in the fine-grained limestones of Holzmaden, Germany. Some of them were discovered back in the 19th century, which made it possible to quickly correct previous ideas about ichthyosaurs. The Stenopterygius specimens retained soft tissue prints in the form of a bacterial film, which made it clear that they were fish-like creatures with a dorsal fin and a crescent tail. They re still attract the attention of researchers. In 2018, the skin structure of one partial specimen was studied: www.researchgate.net/publicati… A fossilized blubber was described, similar in microstructure to that of marine mammals and leatherback turtles. This led to the conclusion that ichthyosaurs were reptiles with a high metabolism, which required fat insulation. Blubber allowed ichthyosaurs to travel across the oceans, swimming even into the cold polar waters. In addition, this Stenopterygius had pigment cells - melanophores. They were absent on the ventral side, which means that the Stenopterygius had a dark back and a light belly. This countershading coloring is typical of today's marine vertebrates and serves as a camouflage.

I did also three works in fully traditional style, with pens and pencils, but I'll show them in the separate post. :)

[glasswaters]

the lake by the mountain

It starts, as all things do, with a story. It begins, gauze-thin and stretched across these mountains, long before I was ever born, with the unspooling of a thread. Cotton, bleached white and pulled taut to keep a petticoat’s hem.

“Such was my task”, says my grandmother, who smells of wants and conviction the way my mother smells of daffodils. Her hands are worn, now, by age or by exhaustion, and when she holds her embroidery into the light, I can see the sun peeking through pierced fabric. The gas lamp on the table gives a groan, the sharp noise of the last of the wick eaten up by flame, just before it dies.

 *

Here is how my mother tells it, when my father has left for the day and she lays the pelts out to dry: your grandmother is a stubborn thing, sweeting. When they lay the phone lines, she refused them. When they carved space for the plumbing, she filled it with soil. When they traced cables from outlet to outlet, she stood, lamp in one hand, knife in the other, and bared her teeth.

The grocer knows her by name, yet.

 *

My grandmother’s skin is paper-thin. When she turns her head, I can see the light through it, as though she has long since been pulled taut over a bulb’s jutting edges. When she opens her mouth, her voice comes out a sharp thing, whetted and precise. “What use have I”, she says, and pulls the thread until it near snaps. “My sweetling, whatever would I do with fancy baubles?”

The fire cracks, and paints in the shape of it, my grandmother’s face golden. I shrug. “Comfort”, I say.

“Convenience”, says my grandmother, and drags her mouth downwards. There is a fountain in the courtyard and an outhouse by the trees. There is copper cookware, lined up in the kitchen, and a basin sturdy enough to hold her. The windows are open wide, and in the planters hanging off the sills, my grandmother has made for the bees an offering of sweetness.

Every summer, they feast on the flowers, a thick buzz of wings.

“What need do I have for wires?”, she asks, with her fingertips hooked underneath my chin. “The mountains are slow, dearling, and there is much lays heavy in the valleys that has not yet reached the summits.”

“Heat settles high”, I say, and my grandmother laughs. The furs on her sofa are as soft as they have ever been, silver things that I can dip my hands into and watch them disappear. My fingers sink into them undisturbed, until they rest at the downy warmth of them.

 *

Stories are things made of thread and words, half-spun and half-dreamt. When my grandmother was new, with smooth hands and skin thick enough to break teeth, she would sit on the summit, just by the cross that marks its highest point, and hem petticoats and linens. Her feet were bare, then, and bleeding, still dripping stubbornness over limestone and fossils.

As the locals tell it, a spirit rose from the lake in the valley at night and made the trek to the summit; bloody feet and tender, stubborn mouth. With wild hair and wilder heart, it dragged from the bottom of the lake to the top of the mountain sweet freshwater pearls.

It sat, wanton and wanting, on the moss, until someone came to pin it by the limbs to plush velvet. A needle threaded through every fingertip, string tied about every toe, it stayed, like that, under dull eyes and duller teeth.

Until the dusk came, and brought with it the sun’s death.

As the locals tell it, the spirit made then the trek back down to the lake. Sometimes, at night, something wanton lay, with eyes like polished pearls and hands carved of dripping limestone, motionless until the sun rose above the mountain peaks.

 *

“The skies were clear”, says my grandmother, and in the soft light of the waning sun, her eyes shine white. “Planets pinned to the firmament, and you could map worlds in the space between. Some days, I could see beyond this solar system.” She smiles at me, a wrinkle from the corners of her mouth to the slack of her cheeks, and keeps me pinned, still, on her furs. “When the day was cold, and there were no clouds, I could see to the ends of the universe at night. Not anymore, now.”

In my back pocket, my phone buzzes. My grandmother drags her fingers to the seam of my trousers. In my ears roar the rocking waves of a storm. “I don’t have to check it”, I say. My palms ache at the tips, still buried in the pelts, still half-hidden. Half curled.

My grandmother tilts her head. Like a bird, almost. Like something with sharp claws and sharper teeth, with eyes that see – something moves. Somewhere within my ribcage or tangled about my spine, something shifts. My grandmother’s eyes are mother-of-pearl, and her teeth are soft, soft things.

“Don’t you?”, she asks. Her skin shimmers in this light – a blanket of oil on a lake’s surface, a layer of despair around a kernel of dirt. Hands, worn and wrinkled.

Mine are smooth, still, and I shake my head. “I don’t”, I say. She laughs. She holds out her hands, and fits them to the curve of my jaw. They lay, like that, unmoving, stubborn things, against my skin.

“Child”, she says softly. “Sweet thing.”

My mother leaves the pelts out to dry once my father has left for work. Before he comes home, she collects them and folds them, damp still, until they fit into the suitcase on top of the dresser, with its broken clasp and the belt tied around it. Her mouth has long since fit itself into the gaps of my father’s smile.

Her phone in her pocket buzzes. When she picks up, my father’s voice drips from the speaker. “Hello, my loves”, he says, and my mother fades around the edges.

“Hello”, she says. Her hair is dry.

 *

At night, something lies in the lake, its eyes wide open, its mouth agape. Its hands are smooth the way stones are in riverbeds – so long have they lain in the water that there is nothing at all to them, anymore, except polished rounds. Its hair floats, weightless, like seagrass sprouting from its head. Or, perhaps, like fabric does when it is put to soak in water that is more gasoline and blue dye, now, it drags, swirling, until it lies trembling at the lake’s surface.

The stars are dull behind their layer of light. The city is alive, even at night, flickering billboards and humming streetlights and girls with bright eyes and brighter smiles, gathered about the pavement. They carry their heels in one hand and their phone in the other, texting half-formed flirts to half-shaped crushes.

Laughing, bell-shaped.

The thing in the lake watches the skies. In the morning, it will lead wet footprints to the mountain’s summit.

 *

“Come”, says my grandmother, ever sharp. “Why don’t you help me with the linens?”

I drag my hands from her pelts. My phone in the back pocket of my trousers is warm, and presses smooth against me. I don’t check it.

My grandmother’s hands are a solid weight on me, and my hems are still wet. My feet leave bloody prints on her wood floor.

“Come”, says my grandmother. I come. I breathe.

I reach for the linens. ______ commission for @hasenfu, thank you for commissioning me!

[templeofoccultpractices]

Bennu

Bennu  is an ancient Egyptian deity linked with the Sun, creation, and rebirth. He may have been the original inspiration for the  phoenix  legends that developed in Greek mythology

Roles

According to  Egyptian mythology, Bennu was a self-created being said to have played a role in the creation of the world. He was said to be the ba of Ra and to have enabled the creative actions of Atum.The deity was said to have flown over the waters of  Nun that existed before creation, landing on a rock and issuing a call that determined the nature of creation. He also was a symbol of rebirth and, therefore, was associated with  Osiris.

Some of the titles of Bennu were "He Who Came Into Being by Himself", and "Lord of Jubilees"; the latter epithet referred to the belief that Bennu periodically renewed himself like the sun was thought to do. His name is related to the Egyptian verb  wbn, meaning "to rise in brilliance" or "to shine".

Depiction

The Pyramid Texts, which date to the Old Kingdom, refer to the 'bnw' as a symbol of Atum, and it may have been the original form of Bennu. In this word the shape of a bird is used that is definitely not a heron, but a small singing bird. The old 'Woerterbuch der Aegyptische Sprache' surmised that this small singing bird might have been a Yellow Wagtail ('Motacilla flava', but no clear reason is given.However, the same bird used in the spelling of a word 'bn.t' in a painted limestone relief wall fragment from the suntemple of the Vth Dynasty king Niuserre from the Old Kingdom, now in the Aegypisches Museum at Berlin (inv.nr. Aeg.Mus. 20038-20039), clearly shows traces of blue-grey paint on much of the body of this bird-sign, so that a different bird species was definitely meant. Shape and colour seem to point rather to a (Mediterranean) Kingfisher (Alcedo atthis) for whom, however, another name was in use: 'hn.t<y'= lit. 'the one of the canal'.

Traces of orange(brown)coloring existing on and also outside the chiseled glyph did originally not belong to this particular bird sign. They are caused by natural stains in the white limestone, as the higher lying layer of blue paint on the bird shows as well. The advantage of such bird identification might be, that a Kingfisher flying lowly over watery surfaces and shrieking loudly would be a reasonable mythical example for the creator deity Atum of Heliopolis as having risen from the first dark waters, called Nun, in order to start his creation of the world. If so, this Kingfisher 'bnw' or 'bn.t' is a good match for the mythical and cultic Nilegoose (Eg. 'smn') of the creator deity Amun in later periods, imagined to having been honking loudly in the primeval dark above the still waters in order to bring forth all creation by its voice.

New Kingdom artwork shows Bennu as a huge grey heron with a long beak and a two-feathered crest. Sometimes Bennu is depicted as perched on a benben stone (representing Ra and the name of the top stone of a pyramid) or in a willow tree (representing Osiris). Because of the connection with Osiris, Bennu sometimes wears the Atef crown, instead of the solar disk.

Possible Animal Model

In comparatively recent times, a large species of heron, now extinct, lived on the Arabian Peninsula. It shares many characteristics with Bennu. It may have been the animal after which Bennu was modeled by the ancient Egyptians during the New Kingdom.

Worship

Like Atum and Ra, the Bennu was probably worshipped in their cult center at Heliopolis.The deity also appears on funerary scarab amulets as a symbol of rebirth.

Connection To The Greek Phoenix

The Greek historian Herodotus, writing about Egyptian customs and traditions in the fifth century BC, wrote that the people at Heliopolis described the "phoenix" to him. They said it lived for 500 years before dying, resuscitating, building a funerary egg with myrrh for the paternal corpse, and carrying it to the temple of the Sun at Heliopolis.His description of the phoenix likens it to an eagle with red and gold plumage, reminiscent of the sun.

Long after Herodotus, the theme ultimately associated with the Greek phoenix, with the fire, pyre, and ashes of the dying bird developed in Greek traditions.

The name, "phoenix", could be derived from "Bennu" and its rebirth and connections with the sun resemble the beliefs about Bennu, however, Egyptian sources do not mention a death of the deity.

Chosen as scientific name of the bird

Remains of a giant, human-sized heron species, thought to have gone extinct around 1500 BC, have been discovered in the United Arab Emirates.That species may have been the animal model for the deity, Bennu, so archaeologist Dr. Ella Hoch from the Geological Museum at Copenhagen University named it the Bennu heron (Ardea bennuides).

──────⊰In Workings⊱──────

*Please know basic protections and energy work before attempting any deity work.*

*It is important to note that everyone's experiences are different and will work with spirits for different reasons. Some people may like a spirit while others will not and that's okay. Ask these spirits what they will work with you on as well as ask them if they can help you with whatever it is you need.*

Ideas for honoring or working with/worshipping Bennu

Altar

Create an altar/sacred space for your rituals and giving offerings for Bennu. Items may include

⬩An altar cloth

⬩Cup or chalice

⬩Incense and an incense burner

⬩Offering bowl

⬩Statue of Bennu or Bennu bird

⬩Yellow candles (you can use any color)

For more information on basic deity work and altar setups check out the deity work post.

Basic offerings:Bread, Frankincense, Game Meat, Lion Statue Myrrh, Sour Dough, Meat, Sun Symbols,

Rituals

Ideas for rituals may include

⬩Honoring creation and life

⬩Honoring the Sun

⬩Life and rebirth

⬩Summer solstice

⬩Ask him what else he can help with⬩

𓆀𓅣𓅣𓅣𓅣𓅣𓅣𓅣𓅣𓅣𓅣𓅣𓅣𓅣𓅣𓅣𓅣𓅣𓅣𓅣𓅣

For more content relating to other practices/religions or pantheons follow my main blog for updates or ask me anything

If you have any more questions or wish to join a community feel free to join my 18+ discord server

Ask me anything on my blog

[pharaoh-khan]

Me thee considered Heretic Midae Pharaɸh Kh🖖🏽𓈖 Apollo

[tarangarts0]

The Divine Art of Ganesa: Exploring Tanjore Paintings

Introduction

Tanjore paintings, also known as Thanjavur paintings, are a classical South Indian art form that dates back to the 16th century. Originating in the town of Thanjavur in Tamil Nadu, these paintings are known for their rich colors, compact composition, and surface richness. Among the various themes depicted, the image of Lord Ganesa is one of the most popular and revered subjects in Tanjore paintings. Let's dive into the captivating world of Ganesa Tanjore paintings and discover what makes them so special.

The History and Evolution of Tanjore Paintings

The tradition of Tanjore painting can be traced back to the Maratha period during the 17th and 18th centuries. Under the patronage of Maratha rulers, Nayakas of Vijayanagar, and later the British, this art form flourished and evolved. These paintings were primarily intended to adorn the walls of temples, palaces, and homes as a form of devotion and worship.

Over time, Tanjore paintings evolved to include more diverse themes, yet they always maintained their spiritual core. The depictions of deities, saints, and mythological scenes remained central, with Ganesa, the beloved elephant-headed god, holding a prominent place.

Characteristics of Ganesa Tanjore Paintings

Vibrant Colors and Gold Foil Work: One of the most distinctive features of Tanjore paintings is the use of vibrant colors and gold foil, which gives the artwork a glowing, radiant quality. The gold foil is intricately laid over select parts of the painting, such as ornaments, crowns, and borders, making the depiction of Ganesa appear divine and majestic.

Three-Dimensional Effect: The paintings often have a three-dimensional effect achieved by applying gesso, a paste made of limestone or chalk powder, to create raised surfaces. This technique is particularly used to highlight the jewelry and embellishments on Ganesa, adding depth and texture to the painting.

Symbolic Elements: Ganesa Tanjore paintings are rich in symbolism. Ganesa, the remover of obstacles, is often depicted with his characteristic attributes—his elephant head, a large belly, and four arms, each holding symbolic objects like a modak (sweet), a noose, an axe, and a lotus. The mouse at his feet, his loyal vahana (vehicle), signifies humility and the ability to overcome ego.

Intricate Detailing: The paintings are renowned for their intricate detailing, from the fine brushwork on Ganesa’s form to the elaborate designs on his attire and surroundings. Every element in the painting is meticulously crafted to create a harmonious and awe-inspiring visual experience.

Cultural Significance

Ganesa Tanjore paintings are more than just decorative art; they hold profound cultural and spiritual significance. They are often used in homes and temples as a medium for worship and meditation. The presence of a Ganesa painting is believed to bring good fortune, prosperity, and protection to the household.

In addition, these paintings are a testament to the rich artistic heritage of South India. They represent a fusion of various cultural influences—Hindu, Maratha, and even European—that have shaped the region over centuries.

Modern Adaptations and Appeal

Today, Tanjore paintings, including those of Ganesa, have transcended their traditional boundaries. Artists are experimenting with new themes, styles, and materials while still maintaining the essence of this timeless art form. Ganesa Tanjore paintings are now not only appreciated in India but also admired worldwide, making them a popular choice for collectors and art enthusiasts.

Moreover, the advent of digital media has brought Tanjore paintings to a broader audience, allowing for reproductions and customizations that suit contemporary tastes. Whether it’s a traditional depiction of Ganesa or a modern interpretation, the allure of these paintings continues to captivate hearts across the globe.

Conclusion

Ganesa Tanjore paintings beautifully encapsulate the divine essence of Lord Ganesa, combining artistic brilliance with spiritual depth. Their vibrant colors, intricate details, and the luminous glow of gold make them a cherished art form that has stood the test of time. As we continue to celebrate and preserve this heritage, Ganesa Tanjore paintings remain a symbol of artistic devotion, cultural richness, and the enduring power of divine imagery.

[desert-tips]

Safari Serenity: Finding Tranquility in Egypt's Western Deserts

Egypt’s Western Deserts stand as timeless landscapes of serene beauty, offering a stark contrast to the bustling energy of Cairo and the ancient wonders along the Nile. Amidst these vast expanses lies a hidden gem awaiting discovery: the White Desert, a mesmerizing testament to nature’s artistry. This article explores the allure of the Western Deserts, particularly the White Desert, and unveils the tranquility and adventure that await visitors on tours from Cairo.

White Desert Tour from Cairo

The journey to the White Desert begins in Cairo, where adventurers embark on a scenic drive through the desert highway towards Bahariya Oasis, the gateway to this ethereal destination. This tour typically starts with a visit to the Black Desert, named for its volcanic rocks that contrast sharply against the golden sands. Here, travelers can explore the unique terrain before continuing toward Crystal Mountain.

Crystal Mountain

A geological wonder nestled in Egypt's Western Desert, Crystal Mountain is renowned for its quartz crystal formations that shimmer under the desert sun. This stop offers a surreal experience as visitors marvel at the natural crystals embedded within the mountain’s limestone walls. It’s a photographer’s paradise and a moment of awe for all who appreciate nature’s exquisite craftsmanship.

Bahariya Oasis Tour

En route to the White Desert, the bahariya oasis tour beckons with its lush palms and hot springs, providing a refreshing pause in arid surroundings. This oasis not only quenches the traveler’s thirst but also offers a glimpse into the local culture and history, with opportunities to explore ancient ruins and traditional Bedouin settlements.

Western Desert Tour

Beyond Bahariya, the journey into the Western Desert deepens, revealing landscapes that seem almost otherworldly. Towering dunes give way to the surreal limestone formations of the White Desert, where wind-sculpted pillars and mushroom-shaped rocks create a dreamlike atmosphere. Sunset paints these formations in hues of gold and pink, transforming the desert into a canvas of natural artistry.

Finding Tranquility

The appeal of a western desert tour extends beyond its geological wonders. It offers a retreat from the urban rush, inviting visitors to unwind in serene landscapes. Camping under a blanket of stars, far from city lights, allows for moments of introspection and peace. The silence of the desert night is broken only by the crackling of a campfire and the occasional whisper of the wind—a truly meditative experience.

Conservation and Sustainability

Preserving the pristine beauty of Egypt’s Western Deserts is crucial. Tour operators increasingly emphasize sustainable practices to minimize environmental impact, such as leaving no trace and supporting local communities through responsible tourism initiatives. By choosing reputable tour providers, travelers can contribute to the conservation efforts while enjoying an enriching and respectful experience of this fragile ecosystem.

Planning Your Journey

For those seeking to embark on a white desert tour from cairo, it’s essential to plan. Opting for a guided tour ensures safety and access to hidden gems while maximizing the experience with knowledgeable guides who share insights into the region’s history and geology. Most tours include transportation, meals, and camping equipment, making it easier for visitors to focus on enjoying the journey.

Conclusion

Egypt’s Western Deserts, particularly the White Desert and its surrounding wonders like Crystal Mountain and Bahariya Oasis, offer a journey into tranquility and natural splendor. Whether marveling at ancient geological formations or basking in the silence of the desert night, this adventure promises an unforgettable escape from the ordinary. By exploring these landscapes responsibly and appreciating their fragile beauty, travelers can immerse themselves in the serenity of Egypt’s Western Deserts, leaving with memories that will last a lifetime.

[tarangarts23]

Introduction: Tanjore Painting is a culturally rich art form originating from the city of Thanjavur in Tamil Nadu, India. Also known as Tanjore Painting or Thanjavur Painting, this traditional art form has been passed down through the generations and continues to be practiced and admired to this day. Let us dive deeper into the world of Tanjore Paintings and uncover the beauty and significance behind this unique art form. History and Origins: Tanjore Painting can be traced back to the 16th century during the reign of the Chola dynasty in South India. It was initially created as a way to decorate the walls of temples and palaces with intricate and colorful depictions of Hindu gods and goddesses. Over time, it evolved from being solely a religious art form to also depicting secular subjects like portraits and landscapes. Distinct Features of Tanjore Paintings: One of the most notable features of Tanjore Paintings is the use of vibrant colors and intricate detailing. The paintings often have a 3D effect and are adorned with semi-precious stones, glass beads, and gold leaf work. The figures in the paintings are depicted with large eyes and a hint of smile, giving them a divine and serene appearance. Traditional Techniques Used: Tanjore Paintings are created using a unique technique that involves multiple layers. The base is made of cloth or wood, which is then coated with a mixture of limestone and tamarind seed paste. This gives the painting its distinctive texture. The artist then sketches the outline of the subject using natural dyes made from flowers and herbs. The final step involves adding gold leaf work and embellishments to enhance the beauty of the painting.

Materials Used in Tanjore Painting: Tanjore Paintings are created using a variety of traditional materials such as natural dyes, limestone, tamarind seed paste, gold leaf, and semi-precious stones. These materials not only add to the beauty of the paintings but also make them durable and long-lasting. Themes and Subject Matter: The subjects of Tanjore Paintings are mainly religious in nature, with Hindu gods and goddesses being the primary focus. The most commonly depicted deities are Lord Krishna, Lord Ganesha, Goddess Lakshmi, and Goddess Saraswati. However, contemporary Tanjore Paintings also feature secular subjects like portraits, nature, and historical events. Significance of Tanjore Paintings: Tanjore Paintings hold a significant place in the Indian culture. They are not just beautiful pieces of art, but also hold religious and spiritual significance. These paintings are believed to bring prosperity, good luck, and positive energy to the space they are displayed in. They are not just a decoration, but a symbol of devotion and faith. Modern Adaptations and Evolution: While the traditional techniques and themes of Tanjore Paintings remain the same, contemporary artists have begun to experiment with the art form by incorporating new elements and styles. Some artists combine Tanjore Painting with other art forms like Madhubani and Warli to create unique and fusion pieces. This has not only given a new dimension to Tanjore Painting but also made it more accessible to a wider audience. How to Identify an Authentic Tanjore Painting: With the increasing popularity of Tanjore Paintings, it is important to know how to identify an authentic piece. The key aspects to look for are the use of traditional materials, intricate detailing, and a clear depiction of Indian gods and goddesses. It is also important to purchase from a reputable source or directly from the artist to ensure the authenticity of the painting. Conclusion: Tanjore Painting is a beautiful and culturally significant art form that has stood the test of time. With its vibrant colors, intricate detailing, and rich history, it continues to capture the hearts of people around the world. By preserving and promoting this traditional art form, we can ensure that its legacy lives on for generations to come.

[ginger-education]

hihi can u talk fun facts about archaeology pls ?

i most certainly can! ^^

The oldest known figurative cave painting is a painting of a wild pig in Indonesia- it's been dated back 45,000 years!! I say 'figurative' because it is a painting of a thing rather than a painted handprint on a wall - the oldest nonfigurative cave painting is a trace of a handprint in Spain, most likely made by a Neanderthal. Both of these paintings were dated using uranium-isotope dating, an efficient method for measuring the age of calcite-heavy materials, such as cave paintings or coral!

The Great Pyramid of Giza was completed around 2,600 BCE, where it stood at an impressive 481 feet tall. Over time, the pretty outer limestone casing was removed, shortening it to the current 454 feet. However, the reason why I mention it is because it was the tallest manmade structure from its construction in 2600 BCE to 1311 CE, when the spire on the Lincoln Cathedral (in England) was constructed! That means the Great Pyramid held the title of 'Tallest Manmade Structure' for almost 4,000 years!!!

Ötzi is the name of a natural mummy, a man frozen in ice, who had died arouuund 3230 BCE. Because he was so well-preserved, we can discover so much about him! Ötzi had an arrowhead in one shoulder, which leads some people to believe he was a murder victim. He was 5'3", weighed 110 pounds, and was around 45 years old when he died. We can even examine what was in his stomach, the meat of an Ibex! He had many tattoos, and had a copper axe with him! I honestly recommend you look into it, because it's genuinely fascinating the kinds of things we can learn about him and his culture! Below is a reconstruction of his face:

And there you are! I hope you enjoyed these archeological facts heehee

[wherethefireliliesgrow]

Clerestory Rendezvous

Yoo Jimin x Reader

GENRE: bittersweet, fluff

TYPE: One Shot

Karina, her collar pulled up to shield herself from the chilly November air, hastened her steps along the stony road toward the cathedral. The drizzling rain intensified the coldness, causing goosebumps to rise on her arms beneath her thin sweater. She inwardly cursed for forgetting to bring an umbrella, but quickly adjusted her golden locks under her baseball cap and ascended the final set of stairs with determination.

Karina was in France for the week, as part of AESPA's world tour for the European leg. With Gislle's help, she managed to slip away from her manager's watchful eyes and embarked on a solo train journey from Paris to Lyon. While Karina had a genuine love for Paris, she had grown weary of the constant red carpets and the intrusive camera flashes that followed her everywhere she went. Above all, she needed some space away from Winter, her bandmate and former lover. All she longed for was a peaceful escape, where she could remain anonymous for a few days. That was why she found herself shivering in the rain, making her way towards another captivating cathedral that had caught her attention.

Standing in front of the towering wooden doors of the cathedral, Karina drew in a breath in awe.Despite the early hour, the darkness of the approaching night seemed to envelop the limestone structure, enhancing its celestial beauty. The warm glow of candlelight danced on the reflective stone walls, while hushed prayers reverberated throughout the sacred space.

Karina settled onto the smooth wooden bench at the front of the cathedral, her hands instinctively finding their place on her chest as she prepared to immerse herself in a sincere prayer. Her gaze wandered upward, drawn to the mesmerizing play of muted colors that scattered through the clerestory windows above. The ethereal light painted the stone walls, infusing the space with a captivating warmth that seemed to beckon her deeper into the sacred embrace of the cathedral.

With every ounce of her being, Karina hoped and prayed for the solace she so desperately sought, yearning to escape the clutches of heartbreak that had plagued her for far too long.  As tears traced their path down her cheeks, each droplet carrying the weight of her emotions, Karina tenderly wiped them away, her touch gentle against her dampened skin. It felt as though an eternity had passed, time distorted in the depths of her inner turmoil. Gradually, she allowed her eyes to flutter open, and in that moment, she found herself captivated by a pair of soft brown eyes, gleaming with a mix of curiosity and understanding, on the bench next to hers.

Startled, the owner of those eyes quickly averted their gaze, fumbling with the contents of their backpack in a flurry of nervousness. Karina's pulse quickened, uncertainty washing over her. “Does she know who I am?” She muttered in panic.

But before Karina could rise from the bench, the girl timidly approached her, clutching something in her hand.

"I'm sorry if I'm intruding. It's just that you seemed like you needed this," the girl said softly, placing a packet of tissues in Karina's hands.

Furrowing her eyebrows, Karina scrutinized the unfamiliar girl before her. She appeared to be around the same age, her eyes wide and brown, adorned with delicate dimples that graced the corners of her mouth. Dressed in a cozy white fur coat and jeans, she had an undeniable cuteness about her. Karina couldn't help but be momentarily captivated, momentarily forgetting that she may be unintentionally staring at the stranger like a creep.

You faltered under the intense gaze of the mystery blonde, whom you happened to spot crying during your weekly visits to the town cathedral. As an art student studying in France, you often frequented this particular cathedral to capture the enchanting play of light on its walls.

"Sorry if I made you uncomfortable," you apologized again, breaking Karina out of her trance.

"No, it's fine. Thank you for the tissues," Karina responded with a warm smile, causing your heart to skip a beat at her effortless beauty.

With her finely sculpted features, luminous eyes, and cupid's bow lips, Karina seemed like the most magnificent sight to behold in the Musée du Louvre. She appeared almost too perfect to be human, but her gentle smile and tear-stained face served as a reminder of her humanity.

You bit your tongue, feeling slightly self-conscious, and shifted your gaze to the marble floors, averting your eyes from the angelic figure before you. After a brief moment of contemplation, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper, placing it in Karina's hands. Confusion flickered across Karina's face as she gingerly unfolded the paper.

To her surprise, it revealed a sketch of her side profile, captured in the act of gazing at the clerestory windows through the lens of her film camera. Though rendered solely in pencil, the drawing was truly captivating. It skillfully portrayed the melancholic expression on Karina's face, capturing her soft features and the essence of her being. The picture seemed to convey a thousand words, telling Karina's story.

"I'm an art major," You explained awkwardly, attempting to justify yourself and prove that you weren’t just a creep but rather someone with an obsession for capturing the beauty of art.

"Usually, I focus on architectural design. Figure drawing isn't really my forte, but you are perfect for it."

Karina raised an eyebrow and playfully smiled, "I'm perfect, huh?"

Blushing, you stumbled over your words, "I m-mean, perfect for capturing in artworks. You look like you have thousands of stories to tell."

"Thank you for the compliment, Miss..." Karina trailed off, expecting you to fill in the blank.

"Y/N. My name is Y/N," you replied.

Karina found the way you said your name so effortlessly comforting. Unlike her stage name, which felt like a heavy burden, the way your name rolled off your tongue seemed light and carefree. It made her realize how much she longed for that kind of simplicity.

"Well, Miss Y/N, can you sign the picture? I'd like to brag in the future that I met one of the most famous artists in the world," Karina grinned, although her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

You laughed and signed your name on the back of the paper. "What's your name?"

Karina hesitated, unsure whether to reveal her true identity. Even though you seemed like the kind of person who wouldn't be affected by her fame, she still wanted to keep it hidden.

"Jimin," she said, opting to give her Korean name.

"Jimin," you repeated with a smile. "I like your name."

Karina had never been particularly fond of her name, considering it too ordinary. But hearing you say it, with a hint of an accent, made it sound more intimate and endearing.

Before Karina could respond, a soft buzz from your phone interrupted the comfortable silence. You checked the message, grabbed your bag, and turned your attention back to Karina.

"I have to go. It's been very nice meeting you, Jimin," you said, extending your hand.

"You too, Y/N," Karina replied, clasping your hand in hers and shaking it gently. "Thank you for the picture. I really like it."

You shyly shrugged and began to walk away. However, after a few steps, you suddenly stopped and looked back at Karina.

"I hope you find your happiness," you said sincerely. "Whoever or whatever is making you cry alone in a foreign cathedral, it will pass."

Karina sat there in silence for an hour, pondering over the words you had spoken. She knew she deserved happiness, and she understood that her journey with Winter had come to an end. The fame that came with being an idol often left her feeling isolated and detached from the world. She was unhappy and lonely, but she had to conceal her emotions behind a mask of makeup and smiles.

It was pouring by the time Karina decided to leave the cathedral. The rain fell relentlessly from the night sky, as if the heavens themselves were shedding tears for her misfortunes. She stood in front of the towering wooden doors, feeling a mix of annoyance and despair.

Finding a place to stay without ending up drenched seemed like an impossible task. Frustrated, she paced back and forth for a few minutes, attempting to call an Uber but to no avail. Just as she was about to give up, a beaten-up faded blue truck pulled up, its headlights illuminating the church courtyard like a guiding light.

You swung open the truck door, umbrella in hand, and rushed towards Karina. She was pleasantly surprised, thinking that their brief encounter earlier in the day would be the last time she would see you.

"I noticed you didn't have an umbrella with you today," you panted, brushing raindrops off your jacket as you shielded Karina from the downpour.

"The rain can get pretty heavy towards the end of the year, so it's always a good idea to have one handy."

"Thank you," Karina murmured gratefully. She was taken aback by the kindness you were showing a stranger you had just met.

"Do you need a ride?" you asked, noticing that she had the Uber app open on her phone.

"It's okay," Karina shook her head, not wanting to impose any further. "I'm trying to catch an Uber."

"Getting an Uber here can be quite difficult. It's quite far from downtown Lyon," you explained, patting her shoulder to ease her nerves.

"Come on, I'll drive you to your hotel."

"I actually haven't booked one yet," Karina admitted, shivering from the rain.

Her clothes were soaked, and water dripped from her golden locks.

"It's fine. I can lend you some dry clothes first," you said, tugging the taller girl towards your truck, hoping silently that you weren't making a terrible mistake.

"Please don't be a serial killer. Please don't be a serial killer," you prayed in your mind.

It was unlike you to offer a ride to a stranger, let alone invite them into your home. But Jimin seemed like a nice girl, albeit a sad one.

You turned up the heat in your truck and reached under the car seat for a blanket to cover Karina. 

"So..." you began, trying to break the silence as you carefully maneuvered through the dark, winding country roads. The rain continued to pour relentlessly. 

"What brings you to Lyon?"

"Just to rest for a few days," Karina replied vaguely.

"How many days are you planning to stay? I can recommend a few places," you offered.

"I'll be here until Saturday, then I leave for Paris," Karina replied.

"Ah, the day after tomorrow," you nodded, squinting your eyes to see the road better. "Are you traveling alone?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?" Karina turned her body to face you. "Are you planning on abducting me?"

"What?" you spluttered, taken aback by the unexpected remark. "No! I just wanted to make sure you'll be fine."

Karina's laughter tinkled like music, her head thrown back in a melancholic yet beautiful display. She seemed like a damsel in distress, but you knew deep down that she was not someone who needed saving.

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After half an hour of driving, you finally arrived at your flat in the city. It was a small two-bedroom apartment near your university, where you spent most of your days drawing until the sun rose, often with a glass of wine in hand as you raced against deadlines.

Karina followed you as you climbed a short flight of stairs to the second floor of the building. Your flat, although small, felt cozy and inviting. Art pieces adorned the walls, and various art supplies were scattered across the kitchen island. A small TV and a gray cushioned couch were positioned near the balcony door, while a large bookshelf filled with books occupied an entire wall.

You led Karina to your room. "You can find some spare clothes in my closet. The bathroom is down the hall."

Karina flashed you a grateful smile and slipped into your room to change into dry clothes.

With a sigh, you shrugged off your jacket and made your way to the kitchen. The exhaustion on Karina's face was evident, with dark circles under her eyes and a melancholic expression whenever she fell silent. Taking a look inside your fridge, you were relieved that you had gone grocery shopping the day before.

You decided to prepare a comforting meal of Bibimbap, guessing from her accent and mannerisms that Karina might also be Korean. Hoping to alleviate any homesickness she might be feeling, you set about making a traditional Korean dinner, accompanied by a bottle of French wine for a unique experience.

"It smells really good," Karina's soft voice echoed from behind you.

Turning around, you saw the taller girl wearing your thick university hoodie and sweatpants. She had removed her makeup, and the tips of her hair were slightly damp from the shower. You couldn't help but stare, finding her adorable and warm in your clothes, creating a sense of home.

"Thanks, I thought you might appreciate something familiar," you replied with a smile. Despite her towering height, she seemed small and vulnerable. The sadness in her eyes never seemed to fade, even when she laughed.

"Feel free to look around. The food will be ready in ten minutes."

Karina nodded and squeezed your arm in gratitude before wandering off to explore the living room. Being an avid reader, she perused your extensive bookshelves until she stopped at the end.

"You listen to Taeyeon?" she exclaimed, holding up an album by Taeyeon. "I thought you'd only listen to classical music or something."

"That's a bit stereotypical," you chuckled. "I actually stumbled upon her singing on the streets of Berlin during a show a few years ago and was immediately captivated by her talent. That girl can sing."

"Yeah, she's really talented," Karina agreed, gazing at the album cover of Taeyeon's album.

It felt surreal to her that she had lunch with Taeyeon just a few days ago, and now she was on the other side of the world conversing with one of her fans.

"And pretty too, just like you," you added. "You both have a similar aura."

Karina felt her face grow warm, quickly diverting her attention back to the bookshelf.

"Yeah, our company has a particular taste," she mumbled.

"Huh? What?" you asked, not catching her words clearly.

Shaking her head dismissively, Karina replied, "Oh, it's nothing."

It was a close call for Karina. She mentally scolded herself for almost revealing her connection with Taeyeon. You seemed observant, likely due to your artistic skills, and she didn't want to inadvertently disclose too much information.

Karina helped you bring the food out to the balcony, where a wooden table and chairs were set in the middle, along with a cozy bean bag chair in the corner and string lights adding a touch of charm.

The food you had prepared was delicious, and it made Karina long for home even more. Despite being extroverted, she rarely felt comfortable opening up to people so quickly. However, in your presence, she felt a calming effect, as if you made her forget the painful things that often plagued her thoughts.

Before she knew it, after three glasses of wine, Karina found herself pouring out her troubles to you. She rambled about a failed relationship, her head resting on your shoulder as you sat together on the bean bag. She waved her glass of wine emphatically as she spoke.

"How could she leave me for someone else when I gave her everything?" Karina slurred, sniffling from both tears and the cold.

You hummed in agreement before getting up to fetch a blanket for the drunken blonde.

"No, don't leave me!" Karina pouted. "Everybody leaves me."

Chuckling, you assured her, "I'm just getting a blanket for you." Her adorableness touched your heart, and the sight of her feeling so insecure and hurt awakened your protective instincts. You couldn't fathom why anyone would intentionally break her heart.

"If you come back safely, I'll give you a kiss," she declared, nodding to herself.

"It's best to save your kisses for someone you genuinely like," you laughed nervously, your heart fluttering at her words.

"I like you. You're so pretty and nice," Karina slurred, tilting sideways and giggling at you. "I'm a very good kisser, so it's a win-win situation."

Laughing again, you bent down to gently tuck her hair behind her ears. "You will find your happiness. If someone makes you break down in front of a stranger, seeking affirmation, then they're not worth your tears."

After rummaging for a spare blanket, you returned to the balcony only to find Karina fast asleep. Her head drooped with a half-empty glass cradled in her chest, her tears glistened on her pale cheeks under the now clear night sky, and the moonlight reflected on her halo of blonde hair.

"It's unfair how someone can be this beautiful even when they're drunk," you whispered to yourself, approaching the sleeping girl and carefully carrying her to your spare room.

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Karina felt the sunlight on her face when she woke up. She kept her eyes closed and hummed in satisfaction at how comfortable she felt. It had been a while since she had slept so well. As she lay there for a few seconds, she suddenly realized that this wasn't her bed, and she couldn't recall going to a hotel. Panic set in, and she sat up quickly, scanning the room for any signs of danger.

The room she found herself in was cozy, with clean white sheets on a soft bed and a fluffy pillow that bore the imprint of her drool (she was a messy sleeper). Despite its small size, the room was meticulously decorated, with a polished desk and mahogany wooden closet doors. The scent of soft flowers and oil paint lingered in the air, a scent that reminded her of you.

You.

Groaning, she buried her face in the bed at the thought of you.

Yesterday, she had lost control and unloaded all her troubles onto you. She couldn't remember much, except for the way your eyes softened and how you wiped away her tears with your warm hands. She recalled feeling a tingly sensation when your eyes met, and she couldn't shake off the memory of wanting to lean over and kiss you. Being drunk was definitely a wrong move, and now she was experiencing a pounding headache from the hangover.

A soft knock came from the door, accompanied by your gentle voice, "Jimin? Are you awake? Can I come in?"

Karina quickly composed herself, sitting up straight and fixing her hair.

"Yeah, come in," she replied, clearing her throat a few times to dispel the sleepiness in her voice.

You entered the room with a plate of food in your hands and placed it gently on the edge of the bed.

"Hey, are you feeling okay?" you asked, your eyebrows furrowed with concern. "I got you some medicine for the headache."

Karina squeezed your hand gratefully as she swallowed the aspirin with the water on the tray.

"Sorry for making you uncomfortable yesterday," she fidgeted, picking at the blueberry muffin you had prepared for her. "I'm normally not such a lightweight."

"You didn't," you assured her with a smile, sitting down next to her on the bed.

"I actually quite enjoyed your impromptu performance of Lady Gaga's 'Bad Romance.'"

She groaned in embarrassment, and you couldn't help but laugh at how she could look so much like a little girl at times, especially when her playful side emerged.

Karina was captivated by your laughter, with your head thrown back and the silver frames of your glasses slipping down your nose. She thought you looked incredibly beautiful with your hair tied up in a bun and wearing an oversized sweater with shorts. She enjoyed the way you treated her, so gentle and kind, without a care in the world. She knew it was likely because you didn't know who she was, and she wanted to preserve this simplicity a little longer. Her heart unexpectedly yearned for you, and it left her both confused and happy.

"Spend the day with me," Karina blurted out. 

"I mean, could you take me to some good places in Lyon? I could use a tour guide."

You raised an eyebrow at her sudden invitation. "Where did the mysterious brooding stranger from yesterday go?"

She gasped playfully, feigning offense. "Excuse you, I was not brooding. And I actually just wanted you to be my Uber driver."

You pushed her playfully, causing her to fall back onto the bed.

"Finish your breakfast and get changed. Your bags are in the closet."

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The two of you headed to Parc de la Tête d'Or, your first stop—a beautiful garden with a lake and a small zoo. Karina had expressed her desire to go somewhere she could practice her photography, so you thought this would be the perfect place. It was one of your favorite spots, as you had spent countless hours there during your first year of college for one of your classes.

Karina was like a kid in a candy store, excitedly exploring and jumping around, eager to see everything. She took so many photos that you worried she would use up all her film before noon. It brought you joy to see her mood lifted, no longer carrying that haunting look in her eyes. She looked even more beautiful like this, if that was even possible—carefree and happy. You knew that your friendship was temporary, as Karina would be leaving for Paris early the next morning, but you were glad that you could bring a genuine smile to her face, even if only for a little while. You cared for her, perhaps even more than you should.

"Hey Y/N!" Karina called out from behind you, her voice filled with excitement.

Turning around with a smile, you were met with the sight of Karina snapping a photo of you.

"Hey!" you protested, realizing she had been capturing moments of you throughout the morning.

"What? I like to take photos of pretty things," she replied smoothly, taking your hand in hers and tugging you toward the lake.

You couldn't help but feel your ears heat up at her comment and the sensation of her warm hand interlocked with yours. She definitely wasn't making it easy for you.

After some persistent begging, Karina managed to convince you to go on a paddle boat with her. You had always been hesitant because of your limited swimming abilities, but her pouty face was impossible to resist.

"If you fall into the water, I'll save you," she said with a wink, exuding confidence in her flirting. "You could be my Lois Lane."

Her words sent your heart racing, and you knew you had to get used to her flirty manner. True to her word, when the boat nearly tipped after hitting a rock, her arms instinctively wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you close. The combination of her breath on your neck and her ear-piercing screams sent goosebumps down your arms. You convinced yourself it was the latter that caused the reaction.

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The next stop was Croix-Rousse. Karina spent nearly two hours tasting everything the market had to offer. It amazed you how someone so slim could consume so much food. You loved the way her eyes lit up with excitement when she discovered a new dish, so you ended up buying even more just to see her happy.

"Look!" Karina called out joyfully, running toward you with two bracelets in her hand. "I got one for each of us."

The bracelets were made of two threads of dark blue string, each adorned with a small silver charm. The charms had the words Le destin décide qui entre dans votre vie, mais vous décidez qui y reste engraved on them.

"Do you know what it says?" you asked, a bit confused about her choice.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "The old lady said it was perfect for us and gave it to me for free."

"What old lady?" you inquired, puzzled, as you hadn't seen any elderly women as you walked through the market.

Karina seemed equally perplexed.

"That... one," she trailed off. "Weird, she was just there."

Shrugging again, she dismissed the thought. "Never mind. Can you put this on? I want to take a picture."

You nodded and helped her put hers on before tying yours around your wrist. Karina happily snapped a photo with her phone, making it her home screen.

"I'm glad I met you," she said, her lips gently brushing against your cheek before pulling you toward the next destination. "I'll never forget this trip."

As the day progressed, you couldn't help but realize that you felt the same way. This encounter with Karina had touched your heart in ways you couldn't explain, and you knew this day would be etched in your memory forever.

.

.

.

.

After climbing the hills to see the beautiful sunset, you took Karina to one of your favorite restaurants in Lyon. As you ordered fluently in French, Karina stared at you, captivated by your presence. She couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of freedom and joy when she was with you. The pressures of being an idol and the pain of her past relationship faded away, replaced by the warmth and happiness that radiated from your companionship. She knew deep down that you were never meant to be together, but she couldn't help falling for you.

"What are you planning to do when you graduate?" Karina asked, taking a sip of wine.

"Hmm... I'm not sure yet. I'm thinking of visiting my parents back in Korea before finding a job here," you replied.

"You should! I could be your Uber driver when you visit," she suggested playfully.

"Whoa, I didn't know Yoo Jimin could drive," you teased, earning a light slap on your arm.

Unbeknownst to you, calling her by her real name caused a pang in Karina's heart. She hadn't revealed her career as an idol to you yet, and she wasn't sure if she ever could.

Throughout the dinner, Karina couldn't take her eyes off you. She wanted to capture every moment, every detail of your presence in her memory. While she knew that life would go on after she left, she cherished the time she had with you and wanted to etch those memories deep within her heart. You had unknowingly become a source of hope and positivity in her life, changing her perspective on things and erasing her negative thoughts. Above all, she didn't want to forget the warmth and reassurance she felt when your eyes met, yearning to have you in her arms every morning.

The ambiance under the lamp posts as the evening progressed created an enchanting atmosphere.

Karina's eyes sparkled as she leaned in and whispered, "I really want to kiss you."

Your heart pounded in your chest, and the intensity of Karina's gaze slowly chipped away at your self-control.

"What's stopping you?" you replied, unable to resist the magnetic pull between the two of you.

In that moment, Karina leaned over the table, her lips meeting yours. The connection was electrifying, and a surge of emotions overwhelmed both of you. It was as if fireworks erupted, and the scent of her perfume intoxicated your senses. Karina deepened the kiss, pouring all her adoration for you into that single moment, fearing it might be her last chance to express her feelings.

Briefly pulling back to catch your breath, you couldn't help but let out a laugh as Karina whined and tried to pull you back for more.

"Whoa," she breathed, her voice filled with exhilaration.

"It's way better than yesterday," you said.

Confused, Karina looked at you and asked, "Yesterday?"

"Yeah," you replied with a laugh, "You actually drunkenly kissed me yesterday before throwing up. Can't believe I'm that bad at kissing."

Embarrassed, Karina hid her face in your neck, unaware of her actions from the previous night. "You're a really good kisser," she said dejectedly, feeling apologetic. “I’m so sorry.”

"I liked it," you reassured her, pressing a gentle kiss on her temple. "I'd gladly accept any kiss from you."

Karina pulled away from your embrace and looked at you with a serious expression. Her thoughts raced in her mind as she struggled to articulate them into coherent sentences

"I think I’m falling for you," Karina whispered, her voice filled with vulnerability.

You nodded, your eyes reflecting the same sentiment. "As I am for you."

"But..." Karina exhaled, struggling to find the right words.

"But we can't be together," you finished her sentence, understanding the unspoken obstacles that stood between you. A bittersweet understanding passed between the two of you.

Karina's gaze fell to the ground, her heart already aching at the thought of leaving you tomorrow.

"We can't be together," she repeated, trying to convince herself as well. "At least for now."

"It's okay," you reassured her, gently taking her hands in yours. "Even if we have to part ways here, I hope that I've made your little getaway to Lyon worthwhile."

Karina traced the bracelet on your wrist, feeling the engraved letters on the charm beneath her fingertips.

"You make me feel happy again."

"I'm glad," you whispered, your heart heavy with longing. "You deserve the world."

.

.

.

.

The drive home was filled with silence. Karina held your hand on her lap as you drove, lost in her thoughts. The idea of being separated from you, even for a short while, felt unbearable. After bidding each other goodnight, she wordlessly knocked on the door to your bedroom. Without hesitation, you let her in, holding her close in your arms until sleep eventually claimed her.

The next morning was tinged with melancholy and tearful kisses. Karina didn't want to leave, but she had a performance that night. On the platform, she pulled you into a tight embrace, closing her eyes and inhaling your scent. It was likely the last time she could hold you like this, but she hoped against hope that it wasn't.

"I know this is selfish of me, but will you meet me again?" she asked, cupping your cheek with her hands.

"What do you mean?" you inquired, your heart skipping a beat.

"I'll come back next year, to Lyon." Karina had made a promise to herself last night before drifting off to sleep. She would come back to you, no matter what.

"If you want me to."

"Of course I want you to," you replied, a flicker of hope lighting up your heart. The fact that she wanted to see you in the future lifted a weight off your shoulders.

"Promise me you'll wait for me at the cathedral where we first met," Karina requested, her gaze determined.

You nodded, your commitment unwavering. To be honest, you would gladly follow her anywhere.

"Under the clerestory windows?"

"Under the clerestory windows," she confirmed, her resolve unwavering.

With that, she pulled you in for one last kiss, savoring the taste and memorizing the shape of your mouth before boarding the train.

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.

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.

As Karina rummaged through her bag to find tissues to dry her tear-stricken face, her hand brushed against a rolled-up piece of paper. She unrolled it, and her breath caught in her throat at the sight. It was a drawing of her leaning on the rails, gazing at the sunset atop the Croix-Rousse hill. The beauty of the sunset was perfectly captured with oil paint, the orange streaks scattered across the paper. You had even added jewel-like flecks of gold and yellow on her face, capturing her childlike glow of joy and carefreeness. Was this how you saw her?

Her heart swelled with the feelings she had for you, her heartbeat quickening. She knew deep down that you would be waiting for her, no matter what.

Flipping the paper over, she saw your neat handwriting in the bottom left corner. It was addressed to her.

Jimin,

I hope that when life becomes overwhelming for you, you'll hold onto the memories of the sunset on your face, the echoes of the cathedral bells in Lyon's streets, and the moments we shared to bring you comfort.

You deserve boundless happiness, never doubt that. I'll immortalize you in my art, and perhaps one day you'll come across one of my works when you're feeling down. I'll paint your silhouette everywhere until you no longer feel pain or loneliness.

Le destin décide qui entre dans votre vie, mais vous décidez qui y reste.

Fate decides who enters your life, but you decide who stays.

I hope you choose to stay, Jimin.

P.S. Good luck at your concert. Spicy is my favorite song to work out to at the gym.

Karina dropped the paper in shock upon reading the last sentence. You knew who she was all along, and yet you didn't let it affect your feelings for her.

She grabbed her phone and quickly typed a message to you:

"I'll stay. Wait for me."

"See you during our rendezvous under the clerestory windows."

Jimin was finally happy. 

[nowoolallowed]

Unknown Woman from a Pair Statue - Met Museum Collection

Inventory Number: 2021.41.123 New Kingdom, late Dynasty 18–early Dynasty 19. ca. 1300–1250 B.C. Location Information: Location Unlisted

Description:

Once a limestone statue representing a couple, only the upper half of the female figure survives. Originally they couple was seated, with the lady’s right arm around her husband’s waist, and the left bent at the elbow. The lady’s attire and hairstyle are typical of the fashion after the second half of the 18th Dynasty. She wears an elaborate envelopping wig and a pleated wrap-around garment. Traces of red paint remain on the face and the neck. The back was roughly cut away. This fragmentary statue of a couple belongs to a well-known tradition of New Kingdom private statuary. The sculpture’s quality, combined with the body’s morphology, suggest a date in the late 18th Dynasty, but a slighty posterior date in the early 19th Dynasty is also possible. Stylistically- and typologically-related artworks discovered in the necropoleis of Saqqara and Asyut suggest that this pair statue was commisionned by members of the elite to adorn their tomb chapel.

[antonia-gergely]

Crawford Art Gallery - Dominic Thorpe's Dark Dark Mouth - 25/01/2024

Notes I took while I was there:

"All Eyes on Us, curated by Matt Ryan and Michael Waldron, sets a wonderfully meta scene for Thorpe's performance. Housed within the Gibson galleries, these glaring gazes watch me watch the artist. They add to the sense of urgent, inactionable distress conveyed by Thorpe's exhibited body of work. Sitting at a large table topped by a sheet of paper is Thorpe. There is a large metal pipe in the centre of the room"

Afterwards Thorpe informed me that it was an old pole he had in his garden, potentially from the ESB. he was very nonchalant about it - just a simple sculptural element he liked

"One end has a white square of muslin draped over it, the other end gently grazes the performer's head occasionally. He moves about in his trance, rocking and adjusting his pen-wielding hand on the page at a pace so slow you would miss it if you only glanced at him. The other hand in his mouth conveys an exaggerated position of anxiety. Nail-biting, tooth-grinding, thumb-sucking. A swell of breath sends his hand dancing a few millimetres away from its former resting place."

"This couldn't be a better setting. Kevin Mooney's Storyteller faces Thorpe. There lies a dialogue about Irish history. The image of the man of the house, telling victorious stories, invincible, smoking a pipe, across from the performer, a man in silent agony. How far does this hidden perpetrator's trauma recede into history? How do we mitigate its continuation?

"John Lavery's impressionist muscle memory emerges in the portrait of Mrs Terence MacSwiney behind Thorpe. She watches in slight amusement at how engrossed I am with this performance. Another facet of Irish history.

"Four bricks of limestone - the buildings of Ireland - hold down each corner of the large sheet on which the artist works. He uses such a grand surface and moves so little. Is he stuck? Overwhelmed?

"Is he drawing what it feels like inside his mouth? Is he meditating? Are we supposed to be seeing this? Am I supposed to be standing in front of him scribbling down ideas of him as he undertakes this journey of undoing or doing or awakening or meditating? I want to ask him. I want to ask him but I can't. I am so close but so indescribably far from the working mind of this artist."

Then he came out of his meditative drawing trance, before the end of the performance. There was repetitive talking outside. It was such a jarring feeling, though I knew it was unintentional, suddenly being watched by the work I was scrutinising. It was just like the paintings around me watching me, but more real. Thorpe apologised before resuming the performance, but honestly it was the most engaging and evocative part of the performance.

It was one of those moments where you question the boundaries between art and life. Between being the observer or the observed.

After the performance, and a quick chat with the very amicable artist, I went next door to the gallery containing some drawings of his. Very simply installed, pieces of tracing paper covered each drawing, pressing against, and revealing, each drawing when a fan blew on them.

The rustling of the paper and whirring of the fans in complete silence was akin to some abandoned thought, left to flutter and fade by the mind. I think it worked so well because it was an understated look at the psychological effects of war on those involved as perpetrators and fighters. It didn't preach or degrade, and it left a lot of room for personal interpretation of the installation's elements.