#milloux

[vanya-veh]

𝘈𝘓𝘞𝘈𝘠𝘚 𝘙𝘖𝘓𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘋𝘐𝘊𝘌 𝘕𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙 𝘒𝘕𝘖𝘞 𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛'𝘚 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌, 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌, 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘕𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙 𝘒𝘕𝘖𝘞 𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛'𝘚 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌

[weloveiiittttuuuhh]

i haven’t seen this picture in so long they’re so beautiful and amazing.

[kieselsteinn]

who are they anyway?

[thatscoolwhythough]

Happy Fletcher Friday

to those who celebrate ❤️

[cosmicanger]

milloux

[slimaneswhore]

They’re so hot together

[vanya-veh]

YEAHHH who will be there, please make a video!!! I unfortunately can not go, and I'm very interested in what will be there \ pos

[aethersmoke-and-ash]

[catscratching]

“What exactly are you doing with these?”  Z’equah smiled at the tall elezen as she wrapped several bunches of flowers in individual paper cones.  “Can’t say we get a lot of demand for these blooms together.”

“An arrangement for a friend,”  Anisai replied with a smile, handing over a handful of coins in exchange for the paper-wrapped packages.  “They’re ideal for what I have in mind.” The florist shrugged, pocketing the coin.  People were strange.

Back at the Enclave, Ani unwrapped the flowers and carefully trimmed them, reflecting that it was unlikely the recipient would know the meaning of his selections.   Cowslip for grace, white dahlias for elegance and dignity, sweetpea for gratitude, and oak leaves throughout for strength.  Something he admired a great deal.

Once the bouquet was arranged to his liking, he wrapped the stems in twine, then rearranged it into some of the discarded paper, wrapping the flowers up carefully before securing with twine and settling them into a basket that already had a bottle of wine, a small box of candied nuts, and a pillow that looked slightly worse for wear, with a small fish-shaped patch on the casing with a folded note attached just below.

Anisai was still too newly arrived for anything resembling a friendship, and could not, as a friend, approach directly.  But he did recognize the signs of strain; and knew all too well how difficult it could be for a leader to acknowledge she needed help.

He left the basket outside her office before going to prepare for a patient consultation, hoping he had not misinterpreted what he had seen -  it wouldn’t do to make her feel as though her privacy was being invaded, when his intent was to let her know she wasn’t alone. 

The note, when opened, was scribed in a tidy, neat hand and read:

My lady,

I am pleased to report that our patient, ‘Fishy’, will make a full recovery.  He has inquired on the possibility of completing his convalescence in your offices, as it is thanks to your efforts that he is still with us.

The flowers are as much for him as for you.  

Your servant,

-A.S.D.

@aethersmoke-and-ash

[vanya-veh]

and if I only could I'd make a deal with God and I'd get him to swap our places be runnin' up that road be runnin' up that hill be runnin' up that buildin' say, if I only could, oh

[aethersmoke-and-ash]

FFXIVWrite 2020 - Crux

Crux --

One drop, maybe two, but no more. You want to find peace, not stare down the gates of Seventh Heaven.  A warning applied with a sardonic smile and a lingering kiss to her forehead, something mischievous in moongold eyes as the vial was pressed to her palm. Maybe I'll even join you later. Two drops under the tongue, to help with meditation, had been the instructions. The syrup tasted bittersweet, slightly astringent; cloying, as though he'd managed to distill some unspoken secret directly into the decoction.  Her fingers curled around the little bottle, intricate and pretty, one indulgence among the many Khalil never had far out of hand. Those indulgences had become their own game, though right now less about leisure or languorously spent afternoons -- unheard of just a few moons previous.  Warmth spread through her, tingling at her fingertips and toes, coiling deep into her senses. It was a pleasant feeling, just disconnected enough to help the ever-present tension she carried with her ebb away.  Ashen cheeks flushed, pupils wider - she scarce remembered the trip down the stairs, among artifact and curiosity that watched her with unblinking eyes and unspoken intentions. Candlelight scattered shadows that danced a little darker than they had been before across the stone walls. Entranced, the world around her fuzzier still as she settled among the  cushions she'd strewn about the makeshift study. The bottle was set within arm's reach -- just in case -- though of more interest was the texture of the rough silk cushions under her fingertips, and the nearby skein of yarn left from her last attempt at meditation.  Focus. That was the point of all of this. To turn inward, to reach as she so rarely did for help, for answers. Milloux was only vaguely aware that those same fingers had trailed upwards, curled around the crystal that remained a close companion. So many secrets to share, if only she would reach for them.... Meditation had never come easily to her. Making the mind a still place only invited other thoughts to rush in like the rising tide. Guilt so often mingled with regret, with worry, with insecurity. Of all the things she needed to do. Knitting, as absurd an endeavor as it was, had helped. Her misshapen and uneven handicraft a testament to the evenings she had spent in quiet refuge, the rhythm a calming, grounding thing.  She lifted no needle now, only settled into the cushions. Oh, but this was nicer. 

Fingers had uncurled, placed atop the surface of a still dark pool, sending out ripples along waters left long undisturbed.   The air no longer smelled of incense or of the restless coast. This was older and half remembered - the smell of earth and stone and ancient things. Of memory. Threads of aether, a spiderweb of spun gold laced out in unfurling and deliberate patterns, shaping the contours of the vaulted chamber.  She'd known this place, once.  Had seen it bathed in the full glow of luminescent creatures and childish perspective. She remembered it as large as a cathedral, this place. Still, peaceful, sacred.  Around her, quietly murmured prayers and song that rippled back from the stone, an echo. A reminder that to be here, was to be surrounded by those passed, who lifted their voices too, in shades.

She didn't dare raise her voice now to join them as she hadn't in those memories, and the water went still again, depthless as ink, iridescent, offering only the vaguest indication of her own reflection.  She lifted her hand -- surprised -- but it left no ripples this time, only the lingering glow from where the crystal remained motionless, suspended.  We've never been here together, before.  What is it you reach for now? They weren't words so much as impressions - spoken past a barrier of a language she was certain her waking ears wouldn't have understood if she'd tried. But she understood them, weightless and un-tethered as they were.  They offered no echo, either. Milloux frowned, or at least she thought she did - it's impression seen in the reflection.  There was no answer at first, words considered carefully, and ever steeped in caution. The intention tickled through her, much as the drug had. You want to know how to help him. The not-voice continued. Affable enough, neither male nor female.  I feel it, too.  I wonder if his soul is more willing than yours to listen. Were I - we - not so comfortable here I might be inclined to tempt him... -- I'm not unwilling. No, you're simply scared to take what you want, and what is waiting for you.  What is it you want, little Daughter?  Not for him, but for yourself. The air in the chamber rustled, bringing with it the faintest promise of summer days far above where they now resided. Sun had never, would never, touch these halls. She remembered that, too. Why are you so afraid to take hold of it, when I hold my hand out so patiently to you? Have I not always treated you kindly on this path?

A plea? A cajol? The frown deepened.

Because I --  I'm afraid. -- break everything. I want to reach for more than that. I want to be gentle and kind. I want to mend what I touch. Not... The unspoken words died among other thoughts. I remember this place. You should. You have been here many times before, despite the warnings your mother gave.  You weren't afraid then. Perhaps you are less afraid now than you think. Everything that was holding you back has fallen away.  I want to be like her. You barely knew her! And there is your mistake. There are so many types of kindness in this world. Let us teach your ours, and hers. Your paths were none so different. There was a warmth in that promise, as there had been so many times before. Around them, the quiet song persisted, the words lost to a child's imperfect memory. And him? What if this swallows him whole? I can’t make this choice for him. So don’t. You are resourceful, little Daughter.  There are places to find what his soul seeks, and I believe you already know where to look.  That was merely an excuse to come here. Think on what I say.  And if I do accept? She waited for no answer, perhaps she wouldn't have liked what it would have been. Fingers plunged into the depthless pool, curled tightly once more around the stone.  The song around her had shifted, changed. --- She awoke to the feeling of fingers stroking through her hair, head resting heavy in a familiar lap.  He hummed tunelessly, the sound soothing, reminiscent of what she had heard in the cavern. Something to guide her home, perhaps.

"There you are," He whispered, smirking a little.

Hells, her head felt filled with cotton and her limbs felt leaden. Grounded. Her nostrils, however, were still filled with the smell of somewhere else. Where, though?   Eyes cracked and then squeezed shut once more, even the candles were too harsh.  "Seven Hells t' sennight's end, darlin'....what was that stuff?" --- @khalil-nasari​ - for mention. @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​

[vanya-veh]

Like an oleander Light, white leaves Of an oleander White like me!

[sadye3a9e-blog]