#mors anima

[vaporlocke81]

ジュークボックス パーティーのプレイリスト from mors anima

우리 재밌게 놀아요!

우리 재밌게 놀아요!

우리 재밌게 놀아요! 🫠 🫠 🫠 ⭐👁️‍🗨️⭐

[businesscasual-biz]

Check out mors anima's New Album ‘ジ​ュ​ー​ク​ボ​ッ​ク​ス パ​ー​テ​ィ​ー​の​プ​レ​イ​リ​ス​ト' OUT NOW On Business Casual! Cassettes also available!

https://music.businesscasual.biz/album/--20

[skullgoat]

Drew a little bit teehee

Wisteria Animae Mors, my main skully 🖤

I wanted to draw the jacket, but I began lacking insp for the patches, lol. I also tried to simplify the skull a little bit, but I can't help the detail oriented part of me ^^;

Sorry for sounding awkward

[ask-playtime-city]

high catnap...share with us your wisdom.

cATnAP: Vera mors sola est in amissione amoris.

DogDay: THE F███?!

cATnAP snuggles up to DogDay.

cATnAP: Quicumque autem in carne sumitur, semper tamen in anima servari potest.

DogDay is horrified but goes along with it.

[whump-tr0pes]

Luctus et Mors

So begins Dee's second recovery arc. This begins about a week after Comes Animae.

Masterlist

AO3

Contents: nightmare, comfort, sharing a bed, PTSD, blood, past attempted murder, past magical healing, past death and resurrection, survivor's guilt, grief, post-reunion, past burns, past torture, past religious abuse, recovery

~

Dee woke up choking on smoke. Blackness shrouded his eyes - blindfolded. Soft cloth restraints tightened around his limbs, and he cried out, terrified, gasping, lungs spasming around the smoke. 

His own flesh sizzles and peels away under the angels’ hands. His skin bubbles and burns under the eternal, blazing sun of hell.

His eyes streamed. His throat closed around a helpless scream. 

“Dee,” a voice murmured in the darkness. “Dee… shhh, I have you.”

Hands, gentle hands, loosening the sheets around his legs and chest. 

The sheets.

The hands left him, only for long enough to snap on the lamp beside the bed.

The bed. The lamp. The room he shared with Ilya.

Ilya.

His eyes found theirs immediately and he reached out, fingers grasping theirs. His hands were shaking. He could still feel blood - his and theirs - flowing between his fingers, hot and vital. He stared at his hands. 

Clean.

He could taste smoke in the back of his throat. 

“A nightmare?” Ilya said gently. 

He nodded and gripped their hands tight. The pain and smoke and blood felt as real as Ilya’s hands in his. 

“Yes,” he croaked. 

Ilya chewed their lip. “Was it… um…?”

Dee’s eyes dipped and settled on Ilya’s throat. There should have been a scar there, from where the angel had pressed his blade in to end Ilya’s life. 

Dee screams in rage, in anticipated grief that cannot have a chance to strike. He lunges forward and pries the knife away from Ilya’s throat. He tears Ilya from the angel’s grip and shoves them to the floor behind him. He growls his rage, his pain, as his shattered body burns.

Dee raised his hand and trailed his fingers along the unblemished skin. “Did Dara heal you?” he murmured. “After I…?”

After I died?

Ilya’s mouth tightened. “She did,” they said softly. They reached out and trailed their fingers along Dee’s jaw. 

Dee nodded. “Good,” he whispered. “That’s… that’s good.”

Pain flickered across Ilya’s face. Dee swallowed hard. “Dee,” Ilya said, fingers linking with his again. “Please talk to me.”

He wet his lips. His mouth was so dry. He should not stop his hands from shaking as he returned their gaze. 

Finally, he said, “I… dreamt of hell.”

Ilya nodded. Their head relaxed into the pillow and they said nothing. 

Dee continued uneasily. “I dreamt that the angels… followed me. Found me.”

Ilya’s brow furrowed and they squeezed his hands. “Oh,” they murmured. 

“I dreamt that they punished me again. For… for you.” Dee looked away. He couldn’t meet their eyes. After a long silence, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. 

“I’m… not the one who died, you know,” Ilya whispered. 

Dee stared at them, shocked, ashamed. “Venia?” he breathed.

They wet their lips. “I’m not blaming you, no,” they said quickly. “I’m not saying… anything like that. I’m saying…” They reached out and ghosted their fingertips along his cheek. “You’re the one who suffered. You’re the one who… who died for this, Dee.”

“You suffered, too,” he whimpered. “You were… were hurt.”

“Not like you,” Ilya said. “Not like that.” Their fingers slid down his cheek, down his neck, brushed his throat with the gentlest of touches.

Even that. Even that was too much. He stiffened. Ilya’s mouth hardened, as if something they had suspected had just been confirmed. 

“There were burn marks on your throat when we found you,” Ilya whispered. “Handprints.”

“I know,” Dee said brokenly. Tears burned his eyes. 

“I held your body for hours after,” Ilya rasped through their own tears. “I t-tried to hold you for… days. Dara had to take you from me so she could bury you.”

Dee squeezed his eyes shut. Tears rolled down his temples and into his hair, soaking into the sheets beneath him. 

Ilya hitched a sob beside him. “Dara healed me. I didn’t… I didn’t hurt. I didn’t have any scars. Once she took you away, I didn’t have you. I had… nothing left of you.”

“I’m sorry,” Dee whimpered. “Ilya, I’m sorry.” He rolled to his side and gathered close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against their neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Dee,” Ilya sobbed into his hair. “When will you see that it wasn’t your fault?” 

Grief clogged Dee’s throat. He shook his head and buried his face deeper in Ilya’s neck. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I never… Ilya, I never meant for you to… I would have…”

“I know,” Ilya said roughly. They squeezed him tight. “I know.”

“I would take it back,” he whispered, barely loud enough to hear. “I would…”

I would take it all again. For you.

“Don’t say that,” Ilya said. “The Powers are dead. No one will… no one will… take you from me again. No one will take you from yourself.”

Smoke burns the back of his throat. Smoke from his own burning flesh. He gags on the smell, the pain, the terror.

He shuddered and pressed a kiss to their throat, over the place where the scar would have been. Over the place where the Power’s blade had tried to claim Ilya’s life. 

“I love you,” he breathed. “Forever.”

“And I love you,” they whispered back. “You. Forever.” Their thumb slid along his eyebrow, brushed his cheek, trailed back up to his ear. They kissed the top of his head. 

He did his best to relax into their embrace. With his face pressed to their neck, all he could smell was them; the smoke was merely a memory. If he tried hard enough, he could almost believe he would never burn again.

~

Translation of the Latin lines here:

Dee stared at them, shocked, ashamed. “Pardon?” he breathed.

@womping-grounds , @free-2bmee , @quirkykayleetam , @walkingchemicalfire , @inpainandsuffering , @redwingedwhump , @burtlederp , @castielamigos-whump-side-blog , @whatwhumpcomments , @whumpywhumper , @stxck-fxck ,  @whumps-the-word , @justwhumpitwhumpitgood,  @inky-whump ,  @orchidscript , @inkyinsanity , @this-mightaswell-happen , @newandfiguringitout , @whumpkitty , @pebbledriscoll , @im-just-here-for-the-whump , @endless-whump , @grizzlie70 , @oops-its-whump , @kixngiggles, @1phoenixfeather , @butwhatifyouwrite , @carnagecardinal , @laves-here, @mylifeisonthebookshelf , @wolfeyedwitch , @batfacedliar , @also-finder-of-rings , @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @extrabitterbrain, @i-eat-worlds

[anneapocalypse]

junelezen day 12: aetheryte

When Ariane's family had fled their home, it had been with the hope that they would one day return.

Those few that could had gone early by aetheryte, but they had been the privileged few. Most families, Ariane's included, had thronged to carriages and airships, because they or their children were attuned to no aetherytes where they might away quickly, or they simply lacked the requisite anima to teleport at all. Ariane had been twelve, her sister Gratienne eleven, and though Mother had long said that one day they would go to see Gridania, they had never yet been outside Mor Dhona. They had been attuned to a single aetheryte, that which stood in the village of Silvertear Falls, bright blue and ever-turning.

What Ariane remembered was red skies, and the shape of a dragon in flight—the first she had ever seen. Midgardsormr. Ariane had known the name; everyone in Silvertear Falls knew of the Father of Dragons, the Keeper of the Lake, whose name was invoked for protection in matters great and small.

But to see him—to see the great wyrm, the span of his wings broad enough to black out the sun when he swooped low—

No one is ever prepared to meet their god.

Ariane would only later understand that Midgardsormr had arisen, calling forth from Dravania a legion of his children, to drive back the Imperial forces that had invaded their home. At the time, only twelve years old, it had been a blur of horrors. Garleans, dragons, the sky burned red. The crowded carriage in which she and Grati had huddled with Mother and Father. The anxious kweh, kweh! of the draft chocobos, skittish with the noise and the smoke. The shouting of people demanding or begging to be let onto the airships that had closed their gates, unable to bear any more weight and still fly safely.

By the time their carriage had pulled away, the village aetheryte had lain in pieces, shattered by Garlean fire.

They had meant to return—hoped that whatever ruin they might find of their homes and livelihoods could be rebuilt, that their village of Silvertear Falls, with its cozy little strip of inns and shops, would survive.

It had taken mere days for the news to reach them, in the refugee camps on the outskirts of the Black Shroud, that there was no going back.

She thought of this now, and of a lone dragon traversing the great expanse, carrying with him but seven eggs, and the hope of his people. Seven children to make Hydaelyn their new home.

(From Harsh Light, WIP, unposted)

[bestworstcase]

fuck. crocea mors. fuck!

etymology. the name gillian emerged in the 13thc as a feminine form of julian, which in turn derived ultimately from roman julius; famously the name of gaius julius caesar but also the name of a patrician family claiming descent from ascanius/julus, a mythical king and ancestor of the twins romulus and remus.

myth. gaius julius ceasar invades britain and faces the prince nennius in single combat. he strikes at nennius' head but his sword sticks in the prince's shield and caesar is disarmed and forced to retreat. nennius throws his own sword away and takes caesar's from his shield, calling his troops to attack the romans. every roman soldier he wounds with caesar's sword is slain; nennius dies fifteen days later from the wound to his head and is buried with caesar's sword, named crocea mors (yellow death) for its role in that battle.

jaune inherits his crocea mors from his great-grandfather, a soldier who fought in the great war—likely on the side of mistral, as jaune is implied to be from anima. gillian's family claims descent from the mythical first king of vacuo and the crown seeks to withdraw vacuo from the vytal accords on the grounds that alliance represents a threat to vacuo's sovereignty. jaune's crocea mors is pointedly an ordinary sword—he upgrades the shield but not the sword—and the asturias twins carry mundane weaponry to make a political statement of, again, resistance to what they see as an ongoing occupation of vacuo. aggressors who believe themselves to be valiant defenders of their nation. meanwhile jaune is a protector who sees himself as a murderer.

[turangalila]

Orazio Vecchi (1550-1605) Missa Pro defunctis [Missarum senis et octonis vocibus. Liber primus. (Angelo Gardano, Venice, 1607.)]

– I. Introitus: Requiem aeternam Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, / et lux perpetua luceat eis. / Te decet hymnus Deus, in Sion, / et tibi reddetur votum in Jerusalem. / Exaudi orationem meam; / ad te omnis caro veniet. / Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine / et lux perpetua luceat eis.

– II. Kyrie.

– III. Graduale: Si ambulem. Si ambulem in medio umbrae mortis, non timebo mala: quoniam tu mecum es, Domine. Virga tua et baculus tuus, ipsa me consolata sunt.

– IV. Sequentia: Dies irae Dies iræ, dies illa, / Solvet sæclum in favilla, / Teste David cum Sibylla! / Quantus tremor est futurus, / quando iudex est venturus, / cuncta stricte discussurus! // Tuba mirum spargens sonum / per sepulcra regionum, / coget omnes ante thronum. / Mors stupebit et Natura, / cum resurget creatura, / iudicanti responsura. / Liber scriptus proferetur, / in quo totum continetur, / unde Mundus iudicetur. / Iudex ergo cum sedebit, / quidquid latet apparebit, / nil inultum remanebit. / Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? / Quem patronum rogaturus, / cum vix iustus sit securus? // Rex tremendæ maiestatis, / qui salvandos salvas gratis, / salva me, fons pietatis. // Recordare, Iesu pie, / quod sum causa tuæ viæ; / ne me perdas illa die. / Quærens me, sedisti lassus, / redemisti crucem passus, / tantus labor non sit cassus. / Iuste Iudex ultionis, /donum fac remissionis / ante diem rationis. // Ingemisco, tamquam reus, / culpa rubet vultus meus, / supplicanti parce Deus. / Qui Mariam absolvisti, / et latronem exaudisti, / mihi quoque spem dedisti. / Preces meæ non sunt dignæ, / sed tu bonus fac benigne, / ne perenni cremer igne. / Inter oves locum præsta, / et ab hædis me sequestra, / statuens in parte dextra. // Confutatis maledictis, / flammis acribus addictis, / voca me cum benedictis. / Oro supplex et acclinis, / cor contritum quasi cinis, / gere curam mei finis. // Lacrimosa dies illa, / qua resurget ex favilla / iudicandus homo reus. / Huic ergo parce, Deus. / Pie Iesu Domine, / dona eis requiem. // Amen.//

– V. Offertorium: Domine Jesu Christe Domine, Iesu Christe, Rex gloriae, / libera animas omnium fidelium defunctorum / de poenis inferni et de profundo lacu. / Libera eas de ore leonis, / ne absorbeat eas tartarus, / ne cadant in obscurum. / Sed signifer sanctus Michael / repraesentet eas in lucem sanctam, / quam olim Abrahae promisisti et semini ejus.

– VI. Sanctus

– VII. Agnus Dei

– VIII. Communio: Lux aeterna Lux aeterna luceat eis, Domine, / cum sanctis tuis in aeternum, / quia pius es. / Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, / et lux perpetua luceat eis: / Cum sanctis tuis in aeternum, quia pius es.

_

Orazio Vecchi – Requiem. Rubens's Funeral And The Antwerp Baroque. Graindelavoix. Björn Schmelzer (2017, Glossa – GCD P32113)

[latinthusiast]

Lucan (7.617-631) on mourning and civil war

It's a shame to have devoted tears to the funeral of the world, innumerable deaths, and for someone following the deaths one by one to ask: through whose organs the death-bearing wound will have exited, who tramples the innards spilled on the ground, who, dying, his face turned away, will have expelled the sword sent down into his jaws, who collapses once struck, who will have rested while the limbs fall, what men will send weapons through the chest or whom the spear will have pinned to the fields, what blood will have burst through the air with veins forced open, and fall into the weapons of his own enemy, who will chop the chest of his brother and, so that he can despoil a known man’s corpse, toss far away the cut off head, who would destroy the face of his parent and with too great rage prove for those watching that the man whose throat he slits is not his father. No death is worthy of its own lament, and we are free from mourning no man.

inpendisse pudet lacrimas in funere mundi mortibus innumeris, ac singula fata sequentem quaerere letiferum per cuius uiscera uolnus exierit, quis fusa solo uitalia calcet,                  620 ore quis aduerso demissum faucibus ensem expulerit moriens anima, quis corruat ictus, quis steterit dum membra cadunt, qui pectore tela transmittant aut quos campis adfixerit hasta, quis cruor emissis perruperit aera uenis                   625 inque hostis cadat arma sui, quis pectora fratris caedat et, ut notum possit spoliare cadauer, abscisum longe mittat caput, ora parentis quis laceret nimiaque probet spectantibus ira quem iugulat non esse patrem. mors nulla querella                  630 digna sua est, nullosque hominum lugere uacamus.

[revenant-coining]

hello hi need names and pronouns *nom* /pful /sil

psychosis (if you're comfortable) apathy (if you're comfortable) high energy dark things cute things and dark things that are cute/cute things that are dark thank you!!! (don't have to do all of these ofc, just the one you can)

didn’t feel comfortable doing the psychosis one’s, and couldn’t come up with any dark cute / cute dark, but for the others here ya go !

Names:

Apathy: Apa, Un, Dis, Misive, Abdu, and Cere

High Energy: Birr, Bolt, Vita, Zest, Anima, Ani, Vigor, Vim, Robur, and Vis

Dark Things: Morits, Mors, Letum, Nox, Nex, and Cruor

Cute Things: Bellus, Bell, Amare, Amor, Ero(s), Venus, Amos, and Amo

Pronouns:

Apathy:

apathy/apathy/apathys/apathys/apathyself

in/in/ins/ins/inself

ne/ne/ness/ness/nesself

un/un/uns/uns/unself

lack/lack/lacks/lacks/lackself

detach/detach/detachs/detachs/detachself

di/di/dis/dis/diself

dismissive/dismissive/dismissives/dismissives/dismissiveself

distant/distant/distants/distants/distantself

High Energy:

energy/energy/energys/energys/energyself

vitality/vitality/vitalitys/vitalitys/vitalityself

zest/zest/zests/zests/zestself

birr/birr/birrs/birrs/birrself

vigor/vigor/vigors/vigors/vigorself

vim/vim/vims/vims/vimself

vi/vi/vis/vis/viself

Dark Things:

gore/gore/gores/gores/goreself

dark/dark/darks/darks/darkself

morti/morti/mortis/mortis/mortiself

death/death/deaths/deaths/deathself

decay/decay/decays/decays/decayself

rot/rot/rots/rots/rotself

mor/mor/mors/mors/morself

nox/nox/noxs/noxs/noxself

nex/nex/nexs/nexs/nexself

cruor/cruor/cruors/cruors/cruorself

Cute Things:

cute/cute/cutes/cutes/cuteself

adorable/adorable/adorables/adorables/adorableself

delight/delight/delights/delights/delightself

cuddle/cuddle/cuddles/cuddles/cuddleself

preciou/precious/precious/precious/preciouself

luv/luv/luvs/luvs/luvself

sweet/sweet/sweets/sweets/sweetself

[ambrenoir]

Nell'arco di tempo in cui la ragione conta fino a dieci,

l'anima è arrivata oltre il milione.

Quindi:

mentre stai iniziando a riflettere su un problema,

la tua anima l'ha già risolto e sta cercando di comunicarti la soluzione,

solo che tu non la senti perchè il tuo intelletto è ancora occupato a contare fino a dieci senza per altro giungere ad una soluzione utile.

Invece di dare ascolto all'anima,

la ragione ricomincia da capo a contare perchè sospetta di aver sbagliato.

-Vadim Zeland-

“Rubato” dalla pagina di Stefano Mor 🌟

[f-etishgir-l]

Ella es callaita 🤫😳

Asi soy mor🤭

[000life-is-meaningless000]

🙁

Жизнь — ложь, я не могу дождаться смерти

人生は無意味、ペニスがあっても構わない

Mors Est Maxima Misericordia Quaevis Anima Experiri potest !

Liebe ist, alles Leben zu töten - 🙁

操你个上帝 - 生命毫无意义

Don't Translate Any of Those . . . . . . . . .

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite 2024 Prompt #18 - Hackneyed

"Pray return to---"

Xiao sighed and turned in place. She reached through the aether streams to find the correct Aetheryte, Horizon, and expended the necessary anima to send herself over.

Raya-O-Senna blinked. How did she know where to go already?

Xiao popped out of the aetherial stream with her normal grace and instantly summoned her chocobo, Dakgangjeong, and left in a wake of dust and rust red feathers.

Westward down through the tunnel of the Sunset Gate, past the Silent King and Cresent Cove to the Footfalls and the tunnel into Vesper Bay, past the stupid stupid statue of Lolorito which she spat at, and into the nondescript building that housed the Waking Sands. She passed Tataru with a wave that also indicated she was in a hurry, descended the steps, ran through the hallway into the Solar, and barged through the doors, practically sliding herself into the room. She started to give her report when she noticed something odd.

The room was empty.

Several things occurred to Xiao almost together. First off, the Scions were all very likely still currently in Gridania, where Xiao left them. If she had to report to Minfilia, which only half made sense since Raya-O-Senna was the one asking her to go pray return or whatnot, surely she would report to Minfilia in Gridania. Secondly, they had all but moved their operations to Mor Dhona, had this been but a half-fortnight later, there wouldn't be anyone here to greet her regardless. And thirdly, she had been given tickets to Vesper Bay, why did she feel the need to teleport over to Horizon and take the long, almost thirty minute, trek over?

It occurred to Xiao that now she was roughly thirty chimes absent without leave. The Scions weren't military enough that they'd issue her a penalty, and there were definitely some days where she would disappear off into side quests or would explore old dungeons once more for hours at a time, but it was still probably concerning. Certainly there was no reason that she'd take more than a half bell to work her way through the Twelveswood. If anything, they'd only begin to worry about her disappearance about now.

She looked around the Solar. She was definitely sick of being debriefed every time by Minfilia (truth be told, it wasn't like anyone else could really debrief her, since no one else had the Echo), and then sent off again from the Waking Sands not a bell later like some glorified errand girl. But at the same time, she couldn't help but feel melancholy, this was perhaps the last time she would be have returned here under orders, as mistaken as she was in what those orders entailed, meaning the last time she heard that turn of phrase in full was actually the last time she'd ever be asked to pray return to the Waking Sands. And this little section of her life had come to a close.

Onwards to bigger and better things perhaps.

Alisaie, much relieved to be out of the Second Coil, soaked her sleeve with sweat from her brow. Perspiration like precipitation to go with the roil that occurred within the head of hers. So much about Nael van Darnus and Dalamud and their implications on what happened to her grandfather... Though she bid Xiao leave, and that she'd catch up after a brief rest, the Warrior of Light lingered.

"Xiao, you need not worry about me, pray return to the Waking S— Xiao? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

[anneapocalypse]

WIP What day is it?

Thank you for the tag, @ishgard!

Tagging @farfromdaylight @rakshadow @ialpiriel @inquisimer @chocochipbiscuit @ecosystem-administrator @about2dance and anyone else who wants to share.

Posting a bit of a longer excerpt from "Harsh Light" today, because talking about Ariane's childhood in Mor Dhona had me thinking of it.

***

Mor Dhona was mostly crystal now.

Ariane's memories of those early years were fuzzy, the edges long-softened by time and by what had come after. But the land remembered, perfectly imperfectly.

Those few that could had fled early by aetheryte, but they were the privileged few. Most families, Ariane's included, had thronged to carriages and airships, because they or their children were attuned to no aetherytes where they might away quickly, or they simply lacked the requisite anima to teleport at all. Ariane had been twelve, her sister Gratienne eleven, and though Mother had long said that one day they would take them to see Gridania, they had never yet been outside Mor Dhona.

When they'd fled, it had been with the hope that they would one day return. That whatever ruin they might find of their homes and livelihoods could be rebuilt, that their village of Silvertear Falls with its cozy little strip of inns and shops, would survive.

It took mere days for the news to reach them, in the refugee camps on the outskirts of the Black Shroud, that there was no going back.

-

It was difficult even to pinpoint where their house had once been. Ariane had now spent considerable time in North Silvertear, in the days of the expedition to the the Crystal Tower, and always she had been strangely aware that she was not far from where she had grown up—where once had stood their old family home, with the herb gardens and hothouse and the little shop up front where Mother had sold their yield, and Father kept the books, pushing his spectacles absently up his long nose as he bent over the ledger by lamplight. Next door, her childhood best friend's house. A few doors down, the inn owned by a Roegadyn family whose daughter she went to school with.

All this she could still see, somewhat, in her mind's eye, but to map it exactly onto the crystallized landscape of the present was all but impossible. Even the shoreline no longer matched the one she remember. It may as well have been a different place. Only the wreck of the Agrius, rising from the lake as a spire entwined with the dragon's husk, stood as proof, pinning past to present.

There was a leathery flutter of dragonet's wings at her ear, familiar now.

"I remember you," Ariane said, not turning to face him at her shoulder, but nodding toward the sky. "From that day…"

"Thou art a child of the Lake. Aye. Thinkest thou I did not know?"

"Why would you? I was one child in the crowd. The sight of you in the sky was rather more memorable, I should think."

In typical fashion, Midgardsormr did not explain himself. Ariane supposed that when you were a great wyrm, you did not often need to explain yourself. "Thou hast come home, then, mortal child?"

"No," Ariane said truthfully, gesturing at the crystallized ground. "What home? There's naught left of it to come back to. There never was."

"Thou speakest true," the dragon mused. "Then why hast thou come?"

"To remember, I suppose," Ariane said, and after a moment added, "Just for a moment. To remember why I can't go back."

The dragon uttered a thoughtful rumble. "Aye, child. This I well know."

She was quiet for a moment. "I suppose you would." It was a sobering thought. Ravaged though it was by battle and by aether, still Lake Silvertear lay where it always had, even if its shorelines had shifted.

-

What Ariane remembered was red skies, and the shape of a dragon in flight—the first she had ever seen. Midgardsormr. Ariane had known the name; everyone in Silvertear Falls knew of the Father of Dragons, the Keeper of the Lake, whose name was invoked for protection in matters great and small.

But to see him—to see the great wyrm, the span of his wings broad enough to black out the sun when he swooped low—

No one is ever prepared to meet their god.

Ariane would only later understand that Midgardsormr had arisen, calling forth from Dravania a legion of his children, to drive back the Imperial forces that had invaded their home. At the time, only twelve years old, it had been a blur of horrors. Garleans, dragons, the sky burned red. A crowded carriage in which she and Grati had huddled with Mother and Father. The anxious kweh, kweh! of the draft chocobos, skittish with the noise and the smoke. The shouting of people demanding or begging to be let onto the airships that had closed their gates, unable to bear any more weight and still fly safely.

She thought of this, and of a lone dragon traversing the great expanse, carrying with him but seven eggs, and the hope of his people.

[dianedantedominic]

I just realized I don't have an intro post for DLC, and it's kinda confusing. So here's one.

Welcome to The Department of Lost Creatures!

I'm your host and the head of office here, Diane Anima. Lets take a tour, eh?

Here in our state-of-the-art demigod run building, we lean heavily on Greco-Romani design choices for our architecture, as well as Renaissance-era choices for our room design. The photo shown is the entrance to the garden through the green doors in our tower, but the outside of the building looks a little something like this;

And if you can't find us? No worries! Our building moves around the continent and between countries due to magical shenanigans. Need us, the building comes to you. (Though we do usually stay in the New York area, we have been known to travel up to countries like Norway, The Netherlands and Russia, down to Australia, Taiwan and The Philippines.)

The inside of our Department is quite like the TARDIS seen in Doctor Who; much bigger on the inside than out. We have a few different sections to our building, including;

The Book Corner/Library,

The Entertainment Room/Living Area,

The Tower (We'll get to the rooms there in a moment),

And The Main Hall. It's your first impression of the establishment.

For the tower, the rooms change constantly to the person opening the door. Depending on the color, that is the room you are supposed to go into. Up the tower are different rooms if you want to break the design, but I would stick to the concept.

Red is a training room. It can also be used as a rage room for people with pent-up emotional trauma, and I know our souls have that.

Yellow is considered a bedroom. The door sometimes changes its color to the person's favorite, but it is usually yellow. The inside changes to the person's liking, usually consisting of a canopy bed with décor relating to the person, as well as things they favor.

Green is the garden. Mainly our lovely Bede Ortega cares for the flowers, fruit and vegetables that grow there, but we all pitch in when she needs it.

Blue is our pool room. It also doubles as an aquarium.

Purple is the observatory. Our souls come here to watch the stars or just watch. It's also a popular napping spot.

White is our silent room. It was made per request after a rather unruly game night scenario. It is always silent in here.

Grey is the therapy room. One of the lovely assistants here, Lucius, god of Harpies, volunteers as the therapist for anyone who needs to talk.

And we don't go in the Black door.

We have a wide selection of souls in our department, since we have ties with Thanatos/Mors (dear brother, please stop sending us nutcases), who sends the souls of demigods to us if they wanted more with their lives. I'll run through the list of them, starting with our oldest.

Zoë Nightshade Lee Fletcher Charles Beckendorf Michael Yew Selena Beauregard Ethan Nakamura Leo Valdez (he comes in on weekends) Octavian Canus Jason Grace (we stole him from Valhalla ^^) Bede Ortega Bonnie Hernández Salmonella 'Sammy' Khatri Elijah Abbas Agnar Tyrsen

We also have living souls, such as,

Elio Beausoleil [@yourlocalfallenstar] Brooklyn Hayward [@rayof-damnsunshine] Damien Harvennson [@iceweavercatlover] Rosalie [#######] [@that-girl-cupid] Hazel Grace [@daughter-of-medusa] Elektra Anima [@vicious-daughter-of-zeus] Daphne [@of-course-im-the-winner] Icarus (apparently???) [@thefallenwaxwinged] Kiara Belvedere [@kiaradaughterofselene]

And gods run through our building sometimes, as well!

Lucius, god of Harpies, Birds of Prey, Forgotten Memories and Defense. Xenith, god of Sparrows, Drakons, Resurfaced Memories, and Prosecution. Macedon, god of Bloodlust and Heartbreak. [@glee-of-ares-wrath-of-aphrodite] Caelum, Forgotten god of Stars, Constellations and Wishes. [@godofwishingwells] Harbringer/Alya, god of the Soul. [they stay with Harvennson]

I'm Diane Anima, as said before, the one who runs DLC and controls it's pupils. Damien told me how to do this thing called 'a selfie', so here's one of me.

We can't forget the owners of the Department and the buildings surrounding it, so I'll pass the mic to my lovely brother, Dante Anima.

With DLC as the main building, me and my siblings have devised a chain that links to it, so we can get our own sources of income (even if one of us uses mediocre magic).

I run the food truck that usually appears on the side of the road next to DLC, called DANTE'S INFERNO. It features all the food you can want, from tamales and quesadillas to Bánh Mì and Tteokbokki. We have literally everything- except casseroles.

Very easy to find, just look for the red truck with the name I gave earlier on it, that's me.

Here's a pic of me, cuz apparently we need those.

Passing on the mic to my brother, Damien Anima.

Did he just call my magic MEDIORCE?

Ah, whatever.

I run the building next to DLC. pretty short, black building with the sign that says 'TAROT READINGS' on it.

Step in, and welcome to the Midnight Zone, your to-go shop for all my witchy friends, and Hecate kids (hello cousins).

We have everything you could want for spells and potions, eyes, spiders, beetles, magical components like unicorn horn dust and drakon scales, Pegasus feathers (ETHICALLY SOURCED! Molted feathers ONLY! We aren't crazy.), and so much more.

We also have more godly elements, like stardust (from my friend Elio), ichor, ambrosia, nectar in all forms, so on and so forth.

Aaaaand here's a pic of me, cuz the others R doin' it! Might change my name later, eh.

Aaaand that's all of us! Passing the mic back to Diane!

So! Will you come visit?

Ooc:

Thanks for the interaction, guys! I couldn't even imagine how far I would get when I first started these silly accounts. I'm really happy for how far my platform on this site has grown within the past few months, and the people that I've met along the way. Big shout out to @saradika-graphics, @enchanthings and @cafekitsune, since I used the borders they made. Another big shout out to the people that have interacted with my accounts, couldn't have gotten this far without y'all. Another big thing, I will be doing more Q&A's with the souls of DLC and the Deathly Depart Siblings, and if you all want more lore-based things from any of my accounts, just let me know lovas. Till then, to all a good night, to those a good day, and jeez this took way longer than I expected.

Edit 1# I COMPLETELY FORGOR ABT FACECLAIMS FOR THESE IDIOTS... So I'mma go in and make the changes I'm supposed to. Another thing, I run @iceweavercatlover, @yourlocalfallenstar, @welkombijspecerijen and more. Those are the accs I'm most frequent in. Just to tell ya.