#mihi et mea you could search for

[fideidefenswhore]

did anne have the motto "me and mine" some time? i don't hear much discourse on it compared to the grudge one

oh, i've seen discourse about it...

(ahem,)

tracy borman (recently) cites a secondary source (book, published 20c) for this motto, but as i don't have access to that, i don't know what his source is...

"The falcon was often painted in silver, with a gold crown and sceptre, standing on a gold trunk out of which spouted red and white roses and the words 'Mihi et mea' ('Me and mine' or 'me and my love') ." Pinches, J.H. and R.V., the Royal Heraldry of England (London, 1974) p.146

[onewingedcharmer-blog]

♒ A memory that still makes you cry. ( muse)

His heartbeat rang into his ear. What does he do? What should he do? What’s supposed to happen? He closed his eyes, ignoring the voices in his head adding and adding onto the cacophony of his internal dialogue. There she was, bleeding all over the floor, and he couldn’t do shit. All he did was distract. All he did was shield. What was he supposed to do when she took his job?

Hopelessly, he carried her into his arms, aimlessly look around the forest clearing to search for some kind of help. Hands grabbed tight onto her, but oh so gently his arms raised her from the ground.

“..This wasn’t part of the plan.” His voice shook as tears welled into his eyes. “This w-wasn’t. Part. o-of the..” Voice trailing off as he took a gulp of air, he looked around once more, desperately looking for some kind of sign, some hint of hope. There was none.

And then the tears dropped, pooling onto the waterproof fabric of her cloak and streaming down his face. The forest felt damper without her. Colder. Darker. He wondered if this was going to be his whole life now. Without her. Rakan shook the thought as he began to break out into a run. Somewhere there had to be a town. If he kept running in a straight line, then he would have to meet someone eventually.

“Help!” He never imagined that he would say that word. “Help, please!” Or that. “H-help.. someone.” His breath started to heave as he slowed his run to a jog and then to a walk and then to a stop. Breath was struggling. Arms were aching. She was still unconscious.

He mustered what he could and began to chant an incantation, trying his best to remember the words he eavesdropped in outside the tent of the village healers. His eyes closed in concentration.

“fulge, flos, et arde, niteat potestas, tempus retexe, redde mihi spes meas, sana vulnera, mutetur aetas, serva perdita, redde mihi spes meas, mihi spes meas.”

He opened, and all he saw was light: in the trees, in the flowers, and the sky. He breathed in as he could feel the forest filling with the words he spilled out into the air, spelling out with the letters; “all is according to plan.”

Xayah’s eyes fluttered open as he took his last breath before exhaustion hit him, his body dropping to the ground. She leapt up and inspected the forest before her, breathing in the fresh air and understanding what he had just done, a smirk and a silent chuckle passing her lips. “Didn’t need to tire yourself out so much, sport.”

She smiled in appreciation as she carried him to a more enclosed space within the forest. She gathered wood and tended to a fire to keep him warm, grilling some fish above it. He was going to be unconscious for a few hours, or so. She figured he probably needed something to eat when he woke up. 

[itsbookishbrunette]

Invisible

I’m finally posting the first part of this on here!  The title is probably temporary, so if anyone has any suggestions please tell me.  I hope everyone likes it!  (btw its a very rough draft pls be nice)

~

I looked at the chalk drawing and the candles arranged on the floor of the warehouse and sighed, there was no way that this was going to work.  I looked at the diagram on the paper and then back at the pentagram on the floor, I wasn’t sure if I had done it right, since summoning demons hadn’t been on any one’s to-do list for the last few centuries.  I wasn’t worried, if it didn’t work it didn’t work. And if it did, it wouldn’t really matter what happened after that, nobody would notice that I was gone.

I looked down at the paper in my hands and starting to read the incantation,“Latus​ ​meum​ ​et​ ​vocavi​ ​te​ ​daemonis​.”  As I began the chant, the flames from the candles flared up and the pentagram I had drawn started to glow. I didn’t know if it was working or if I was just hallucinating, but either way something was happening. I continued the ritual, throwing a concoction I had made into the middle of the pentagram, coughing as it released a spicy aroma into the air that made my eyes water.  “Ego praecipio tibi ut facias.” I took a deep breath, preparing for the last, and longest, part of the incantation. “Ego te, diabole, et mandata mea mihi. Mea egredietur, et obsecrationes faciunt usque in finem. Iam ego hunc faciat!” I was supposed to be yelling by the end of the phrase, but I could barely get my voice above a whisper on a good day, and this definitely didn’t count as a good day.  I waited for something to happen, tapping my foot on the floor impatiently. There was no sign of anything magical happening in the pentagram before me for a good five minutes before I decided to leave.

I had packed up my things and started to destroy the pentagram and pick up the candles when an unfamiliar voice rang through the warehouse, “I was expecting something smaller, maybe a mouse.”  A man came out of the shadow of an old rusty machine to the right of the pentagram.

“What?” I asked, confusion clear on my face.  “Who are you?” The stranger sighed and looked towards me, their face still shrouded in shadows.

“Oh come on.” he tilted his head, a cocky smirking taking over his features, “I thought you were smarter than that, especially since you managed to pull off a full summoning.”  My jaw dropped as I realized that the book I had found this summoning thing in wasn’t a fake and that I had just sold my soul. We were both silent for a moment before he vanished in a second and reappeared in front of me.  

My eyes widened and I stepped back but before I could get further away, a clawed hand was wrapped around the back of my neck and another hand was placed on my forehead. “Sorry about this,” he chuckled, “But I don’t think that you’re going to tell me what you were so desperate to sell your soul for.”  Seconds later, I was reliving my entire life.

I was five again, watching a coffin being lowered into the ground.  I was six, watching my classmates talk and laugh and play together. I was eight next, sitting in an empty classroom with sunlight streaming through the windows, a book sitting open on the desk in front of me.  Then I was twelve, staring solemnly at an open locker overflowing with papers. I was fourteen next, checking the side of my face in a small mirror to make sure that the bruises were hidden from my mother’s eyes.  I was fifteen again, watching my mom throw away all of her birthday plans for me months before I turned sixteen. Then I was eighteen, staring out at a crowd full of unfamiliar faces from a wooden stage, searching for someone that I knew.  I was twenty next, running into a bathroom at work with a sick feeling in my stomach because of the never-ending whispers behind my back.

I was suddenly twenty-two again, coming home for Christmas and hearing my mother talking to the rest of my family in the kitchen, “She has no friends and hardly talks to anyone, it’s a miracle she hasn’t killed herself yet.”  

I heard my aunt respond, “It’s like she doesn’t have a soul anymore.”  I stepped back from the kitchen doorway, suddenly back in the present and falling to the floor of the warehouse with warm, wet tears streaming down my cheeks.  It was hard to breath and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. My palms were clammy and I could feel beads of sweat rolling down my back. The man stood before me for a moment with an expression that I couldn’t identify etched onto his face.  

“Well damn.”  he knelt in front of me, “Someone’s got some emotional baggage.”