#starfallen-tears

[astralcurses]

making eye contact with you. we could be friends... if you wanna /lh

i just think you're neat

YAY YAY YIPPEE YAY (i think YOURE neat)

[blackstonetowers]

in my mind, i can’t call myself a hc fan if i am not rightfully angry abt what happened to cleo at the hands of a beloved fic’s author.

[camliristarfallen]

Daily Writing Challenge May 22nd 2023 – Day 2 – Divine/Tragedy

Daily Writing Challenge May 22nd 2023 – Day 2 – Divine/Tragedy

 “Oh, Lady Starfallen, you are going to be the talk of the town once they see you on the red carpet,” Deidre Violetspinner, the Starfallen’s modiste, said with awe.

 The older elven woman stood, and took in the gown she had made for Camliri. Cam turned in a circle, also admired the dress. It was nothing short of miraculous; made from Black Embersilk, the color of starless night, it was embroidered with silver filigree, and boasted dozens of fiery, orange sapphires, deep red carnelians and rubies, and tiny, shimmering diamond chips along the filigree work. The bodice was laced in the front, like a corset, with glowing silver ties. A belt made of Red Embersilk sat low on her hips, the center gleaming with a giant orange sapphire that seemed to be on fire.

 Perched atop the Arcanist’s shoulders were epaulettes made of Orange and Red Embersilk, silver filigree, with a large, glistening ruby embedded on each side. Upon her head rested a delicate, six-pointed crown encrusted with fire opals. The stones gleamed with such light that it was dazzling to the eyes. On her back was a set of intricate, red and orange stained-glass flames, three on each side. They glowed from within and almost looked like real flames.

 On her hands and feet, the modiste had crafted Black Embersilk gloves and stiletto shoes, both capped with twinkling, silver leather. The gloves were finger-less so that an array of rings made from the same orange sapphires, carnelians and rubies could be seen. From the lady’s ears dripped earrings of blown glass that looked like molten tear drops.

 Cam hummed, twirling in front of the mirror, watching the gems sparkle like living flames.

 “I really think you’ve outdone yourself this time, Deidre. This gown is absolutely divine, I can’t wait to wear it on the red carpet for Vixxy’s show.” Deidre nodded, beaming proudly at the Arcanist’s words.

 “It’s a tragedy I can’t go with you to see the looks on everyone’s faces when they see you. But you’ll have Dana take lots of pictures for me, won’t you?”

 “Oh yes, Danastarian has been instructed to take as many pictures as possible. Still, he can’t go into any of the rooms, since he’s not on the guest list, but then, I don’t think I’ll need my assistant present for any of those rooms.” She winked at Deidre, who’s face turned a smidge red.

 Camliri twirled again in front of the mirrors, those blue eyes lit up as she once more inspected the gown.

 “Truly a masterpiece, Deidre. Thank you,” she said.

@daily-writing-challenge @vixannya​ for mentions.

[stelaernis]

❛ starchive · 05.09.24 ❜ ✦ ad ﹔starfallen · general sorrowful reflections of both grief and frustrations.

there is something about being online that makes me increasingly bitter and incessantly tired. people throwing around the word ' privileged ' as means to invertedly place the blame of self pity at someone else. i do not deny how discouraging and life draining it is to try and stay relevant or be remembered only for it to be completely shattered by people's ignorance or the algorithm. no one wants to hear this. but at some point, people need to reflect / work on themselves and tackle issues that persist because if the source is someone unrelated, it is not on that person, it's not their responsibility to be held accountable for someone else's miseries.

about engagement. ' just draw for fun !! ' does not pertain to half of the creators out there. a lot of people depend on support & feedback in order to live sustainably. this includes ' you get to draw be happy '. i did not spend all my years trying to live up to the impossible standard of an everchanging and increasingly difficult community to be told i should not focus on numbers. it is not easy. i am not an isolated case of putting down blood and tears on paper desperately trying to amount to - something. it is still like that, but the attempts at comfort is almost always trampled by people's assumptions & ignorance.

it is not that simple. people who point fingers and will compare themselves to others by putting themselves down are - to be cold - exhausting. i won't deny that i also have and do it, because jealousy is a normal thing. but silently, quietly, personally. it is not anyone else's problem. people's success should not be your reason to make them feel bad. to add, it is never as black & white as it seems. maybe you do have it awful. maybe you do struggle, but comparing them and making others feel bad for expressing their own will remove my respect for you.

i am also tired of dealing with people who do not read, and guilt me for things i already state. i cannot quit cms the way i wanted to before, but this is one of the reasons why.

the patterns. to be hypersensitive to any form of changes is my own ruination. the idea that people hate or dislike me because i am not present, or they are no longer there. the delusion is vivid and both irritating as it is devastating. it is no one's problem but my own, but it hinders me from forming proper understanding and relations. automatically believing i have done something wrong or people forget me when there is no reason to / as i try to tell myself / is - debilitating.

i have returned to illustrating sága a lot more due to countless of reasons. a lot to cope and give myself some form of solace. but i do not want that to be a problem too. there are many memories and concepts that i am recapturing presently to cope with how much is changing. ' the primordial aeverstar of boundless, infinite, eternal stelliferous void ' is more befitting. i grieved for years, at some point forced to put myself in a position where it reflected my own emotional state of anhedonistic nihilism. void still pertains to them, they are nothingness. but now presented as a star. i missed it. being associated purely as ' starry being '. although i do not believe i will go back to that term, the primordial everstar of void / nothingness is somewhat assuring. it puts the stelliferous aspect first. it really does mean everything to be called ' star ' again.

i will personally see how people behave around my attempts at personal reconciliation. if my little attempts at consolations cause people to guilt or self pity, then i will encourage to cut off interactions.

[heartofaeonia]

Starfallen log 01

I heard the sound of rain again for the first time since arriving in this new land. It's been so long, I was afraid I might forget its gentle rhythm.

Back home, every day began with a thick fog, and at night the drums fo the downpour lulled us to sleep. Every moment inbetween, of course, was beset by thick, dark clouds that barely let in the light.

Before I knew it, we were outside.

We let the rain wash over us. In the clouds I could see streaks of light piercing through, and for just a moment, I felt... free. Unburdened.

It wasn't until they reached the corner of my mouth that I noticed the tears running down my face... When He asked me why, I... Chose to stay silent. I had no idea whose tears they were, after all. I didn't know how to answer.

"...Let's go back inside. We'll catch a cold out here."

[floweroflaurelin]

you did SO frigging well on the backstory animation!!!! it was so beautiful and i just ADORE your portrayal of Eddie especially, not to mention lil puppy Bubbles... she was so cute! :D

Awww thank you!!! It was such a fantastic project to get to work on and I’m so so so happy with how it turned out!!

[incorrect-hermitcraft]

i'm really sorry but i made a mistag on my submission! i didn't realize it until now unfortunately but i thought i'd let you know

fixed!!

[phantom-moonfire]

your commentary on the dreamsmp gives me life, especially considering i just hopped in around the festival and still have no real clear idea of what went on beforehand

Djfidosifjwk thank you so much!!!

[data-dork]

25 and 29?

25. What’s a song that gives off good vibes anytime you listen to it? 

i usually only listen to music that gives off good vibes, but one in particular is heaven is a place on earth by belinda carlisle. it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

29. Do you collect anything? And what are some hobbies you have?

i collect funko pop figures, pokemon cards, and different versions of monopoly! and my hobbies include drawing, writing, and playing the sims.

~send me a soft ask~

[rileyttheworm]

57 :D

stuff is way - they might be giants

(for this ask meme)

[christopher067]

How are you so talented? I download everything you make!

:’) wow. thank you. like. so much. i.. i.. what are words. ily so much, thank you! That means the world to me! ♥♥

[mallowbees]

a group of rats and the cbh group chat band together to reblog a friends oc i guess @starfallen-tears​

[rosewatering]

『✞』;;  ﴾ a lesson in martyrdom ﴿

nefelibata (n.) lit. "cloud-walker"; one who lives in the clouds of her own imagination and dreams.

୨୧━━━━.⋅ ʚ✞ɞ ⋅.━━━━୨୧

❆⊰『 — † Mourning Dove º Starfallen º Psychopomp. ;; 』

         A fawn-eyed doll, painted so pale, and built so delicately—           written in the pages of a fairy-tale, the desultory naiad had wandered far away.-           Often, her pale lashes were bashfully lowered to           rosy with blood blooming beneath her porcelain.           t seemed as though cobwebs and dewdrops could gather on them           and were a chore to lift. When she would,           however, her eyes could outshine even the brightest star.

         Her hair was the color of moonlight on water, spun silver           and tousled with faerie-light and pearl. Fine tremors ran           through her lissome frame, her nearly diaphanous, alabastrine flesh markedly           cool— etiolated, nearly. Even the beat of a butterfly's wing could bruise her.           A haunting, ethereal pulchritude. Elysian,           just like an angel, clad in wings and veined with blood of otherworlds.

She wore an ineffable air of tragedy like a perfume, and a wavering seashine seldom left her eyes, as if everlastingly on the precipice of tears. She carried a blessing she could only just learn to bear; to be acutely aware of hauntings by night terrors in her  waking life, traipsing the bridge between life and death. In her fragile reality, it was as if she could wrap the fabric of space around herself like a cloak. Forsaken by light, an eclipse was her antiseptic.

Death-rapt and ill-starred, ghosts cling to a being that can’t help but to listen to their lamentations. She danced through dusky climes, leaving only apparitions in her wake— and a lingering, disquieting whisper of the funereal world which cradled her. In its wintry vast, perhaps, her teardrops would blossom lilies for lonely graves, and alight the stars for ghostmakers as lost as herself.

୨୧━━━━.⋅ ʚ✞ɞ ⋅.━━━━୨୧

.º Haunted .• ‘’ a siren, who clings to rivers, and hands of faithful lovers; the dead are faithful. ‘’ -=--- + † +---=- The little one is never truly alone, as lonely as she may appear. Ghosts seldom leave her alone. If a loved one is near, the dec- -eased may urge her to let them speak, or, tell her things that she otherwise wouldn't— and perhaps shouldn't— know.

୨୧━━━━.⋅ ʚ✞ɞ ⋅.━━━━୨୧

.º Rabbit-hearted .• ‘’ promise me, when you see a white rose, you'll think of me. ‘’  -=--- + † +---=- It’s almost as if the lithe chambers to her heart are glass, and you can see into the machinations of her mind. An underlying sense of un- -easiness persists, as if she could bolt at the slightest sound, or the seashine of her eyes could trickle over her pallid lashes. But, when she lets out a tremulous giggle,her smile would almost make one forget just how crestfallen she may be.

୨୧━━━━.⋅ ʚ✞ɞ ⋅.━━━━୨୧

.º Belongings .• ‘’ i shut my eyes, the world drops dead,i think i made       you up inside my head. ‘’             -=--- + † +---=- ¤ Crow feathers are woven into her hair, from her sweet friend Fitheach. ¤ Little black book, written in with ela- -borate cursive. Each page is signed with a different name. ¤ A silver ring with a peculiar, almost living aura. ¤ The leather choker with upside- -down crosses she once wore is now tied around one thigh, hold- -ing an unloaded pistol inscribed with 'Phantom'. ¤ A dogchain pendant, with 'captain' inscribed onto the back. ¤ Her staves have a misty cloud ar- ound them, with dew and snow falling, leaving faint illuminated mist and droplets in her path, and perhaps a lily petal or two.

୨୧━━━━.⋅ ʚ✞ɞ ⋅.━━━━୨୧

.º Funereal .• ‘’ the teardrops that she wept, grew lilies upon forgotten graves. ‘’  -=--- + † +---=-  Evidenced by her perpetual near- tearfulness, a tristful air follows wherever she may go. Perhaps she is tristful in nature, or the spirits that follow her leave a dreary air in their wake. At times, it can even be suffocating.

୨୧━━━━.⋅ ʚ✞ɞ ⋅.━━━━୨୧

.º Return .• '' the lingering between life and dreams, is so achingly lonely, that i could die. ''         -=--- + † +---=- Raenyste has been away for a while now... she is still the same little elf, but, her whimsicality shines a little less bright, and she doesn't seem to gaze up at the sky in the same way as she once always did. She seems frightful, in an almost eerily contagious way. Her stutter may have improved, at least.

[camliristarfallen]

Friday night, Maelyn and Dristan were off to see their dad, and Raena was on her way to Light’s Hope Chapel for a special class on the Light. It would be a quiet weekend; Sandoralin was also gone, back to Azeroth to visit his mother, and the rest of the staff were gone as well, except for her personal guards, which would be patrolling the grounds of Starfallen Estate on the edge of Shattrath city.

Cam had not felt so alone in such a long time. It seemed like forever since she’d heard from Ryland, he was off doing whatever it is that he does when he’s not out to sea, and Leo had also been quite distant and more reclusive than usual lately. Thaenicus was still completely incommunicado, so she tried to message a few friends, most of which either didn’t respond at all, or responded very shortly.

So she was left alone with her feelings and her thoughts, both of which were very dark and brooding. She poured herself a drink and thought about going out to the hot tub, but a storm was brewing, and she didn’t want to be caught out in it if there was lightning.

Storms on Outland were far different than storms on Azeroth; the skies turned a sickly green, the lightning was often vibrant pinks or purples, and the winds howled with rage. Thankfully, most of her flowers and plants would be spared the worst of it since they were in glass greenhouses. Her trees might not be so lucky, so she would have to walk the grounds tomorrow to see if there was any damage.

Having finished her first drink, she poured another, and decided to make it a double, before heading out to her sun room to watch the storm. She sometimes envied Shamans their ability to command the elements, especially at times like this when she would have liked to conjure a storm for herself. The dark, roiling clouds and forks of wicked lightning seemed to mirror the turmoil she was feeling inside.

She had brought the bottle of bourbon with her, so after she finished the second drink, she just started drinking from the bottle. Who cared if she got roaring drunk, all by her lonesome? She was an adult, she could do whatever she damn well pleased.

Her nerves were still a bit raw from the guild fair in Stormwind earlier. Kon had asked about her beaus, and she hadn’t really known how to answer since she hadn’t talked to either man since the tournament. Habit had her using her usual excuse; that they were busy with things, and she was sure they were fine. She hated lying to her friends and fellow performers, but she didn’t really want anyone to know just how raw and lonely she felt, so she deflected as best as she could.

The bourbon was starting to kick in, and she began to feel that familiar warmth spread throughout her veins, making her skin flushed and pink, as if Ryland were actually there, whispering naughty things in her ear. She pulled off her sweater and tossed it on the floor, then took another long drink from the bottle.

Outside, the storm was raging; the wind was indeed howling, whipping trees and bushes around as it screamed out its fury with lashing rain, licks of lightning, and peels of thunder loud enough to shake the house.

Drunk and undaunted by the storm, Cam stepped out into the night and the fury of nature, almost instantly soaked from the rain. Her top cling to her body, her red curls plastered to her face as her makeup smeared and ran. She watched quietly for a few moments, and then sank to her knees, still clutching the bottle of bourbon, and she screamed along with the wind and thunder, letting all the built up anger, loneliness, and pain flood out of her and into the night.

When her throat became raw from her screams, she simply dissolved into tears; deep, wracking sobs rocking her body. She used to ask the gods why she could never find someone that would stay for her, but she had given up asking long ago. She knew she was destined for a life of only brief happiness with someone else, and then it would be right back to being just her and the kids again.

Yet, each time she felt the familiar tugging on her heart, she hoped with everything inside of her that this would be the last time she also felt the sting of rejection and loneliness when they inevitably left.

But it hasn’t happened yet.

@rosecrownreserve @rylandfalkov @konietzko-sylvoran for mentions.

[starfallen-tears]

the-endofinfinitywithyou >>> starfallen-tears

[wildname]

Red Wing

Echoing out across the harbor were songs and laughter of a celebrating people. The village of Hullton threw this festival every year, a sign of thanks to the knights who guarded them, the Light who watched over them, and to the fishermen who risked it all to feed them. The mixing smells of mead, cooking fish, and dozens of baked sweets mingled in Thalin's nostrils. He had missed this festival, for years he had been away, in both Booty Bay and far beyond.

"Knight-Commander," came a voice. The drifting knight looked over to the smiling features of Sir Fairwind, tipping a foaming mug to him, "You're dozing, Sir. We all know Goody Ann will have your ass for that." A round of laughter echoed around them. Knights and well regarded folk of the village.

Thalin chuckled and took a sip from his own mug. It was a sweeter mead, aided with the hints of vanilla. "I'm not dozing, Alexios," he replied. "Just thinking."

"Best be about who your first squire should be!" barked a raspy voice. Sir Baris, Thalin's uncle and former Knight-Commander, had been wheeled out for the festivities. He was so much more gaunt and frail then he had been but a few months ago, but there was still fire and piss in the man. "A good knight always takes a squire, else our oaths and morals die with us!" A murmur of approval and nods echoed his sentiment. "Sir Bernard of Northsire has a son, might be a good pick."

Sir Bernard was a elder knight, known for his piety and skill upon a horse. He was also a bigot and purist when it came to humans. More than once he displayed disgust with the Starfallen lodge and Knight-Magus Gildras. His son wasn't much better. Brandon was a spiteful shit and a coward. Many times in training, Thalin had to walk away. Sparring became nothing but a beating.

Thalin knew why Sir Baris put those two forward however. Sir Bernard was the most likely successor to the order if Thalin were gone. This would've been an attempt to mend the offense and support the order.

Knight-Captain Marigold glanced between the two, sipping her mead. She patted her legs and stood. "Sirs, maybe give Sir Thalin a moment to think it over may be in order? Here," She said, walking over and pulling on the larger man's arm. "Take a walk and mull it over. Walks alway clear my head." Sir Baris waved off a hand, letting the two part. After they were well out of earshot, Marigold spoke, "He's right, not about Sir Shithead but about getting a squire. You're not errant anymore."

Thalin nodded softly. "Yeah... But I'm not sure I'm ready to take on a child like that."

"Says the man leading a coalition of knights and quel'dorei rangers?" Dame Marigold retorted with a snicker. "All you have to do is teach them what you know."

Thalin sighed. She made a simple but good point. "Well, who do you think it should be?" he asked, glancing over. Dame Marigold was always in charge of the pages should their knights be away, surely she'd have a candidate.

The woman laughed and tugged him along. "I know just the lass."

The small square had cleared out for the festival, all the merchants and goers were along the beach. Thalin peered out into the area, Marigold pressing a finger to her lips, telling him to stay quiet. A young girl with bright red hair spun about the patch of dirt, a wooden blade in hand. Her footing was self practiced, her grip was off, and she left herself so open. But there was fire in her sky blue eyes, wait... Long tappered ears poked out from her fiery locks. A half elf?

Thalin looked down to Marigold who seemed to beam with pride. "She's getting better," she murmured to herself. Just as she said so, a clattering sound caught his attention.

"Dammit!" the girl shouted, laying on the ground with a pant. Her clothes were a ratty shade, clearly not the first tumble. Thalin smiled softly as he strood out. The girl's eyes were closed but her ear twitched, and she rolled about, grabbing her "blade". She cried out as she swung, and grunted when she felt it stop. Her eyes darted open, glaring before shock took over. "M-m'lord!?"

Thalin chuckled, holding the wood in his hands. It was a mere few inches from his head, and a sharp sting reverberated through his hand. "Please, call me Thalin." He let go of the sword and inspected her posture. Her back was straight, head held high, and her right foot forward. She knew things. Thalin looked back to his female knight, putting two and two together, then down to the girl. She stared up at the man with sheer terror. She couldn't be more than ten, maybe twelve by Thalin's judgement. "You know... Its polite to share your name when someone shares their own."

She blinked once and dipped her head in a sort of bow. "Fabianna! M'- uh... Thalin." She corrected herself. Light, the girl was a nervous wreck. "I'm so so so sorry for uh, almost hitting you! I just got caught up and angry and-"

Thalin held up a hand to cut her off. "You're a fighter. I can see that. Tell me Fabianna, where's your family?"

She blinked twice, glancing off to the side and spoke quietly. "My mother died... A year ago. And I don't know my dad, Sir."

Thalin's smile faded, "I see... And your blade? How'd you get that and who taught you?"

Fabianna perked up at that, "Uh, Dame Marigold did, Sir. She knew my mother and how much I wanted to be a knight and gave me this book with pictures to practice from and-" on and on she rambled. Thalin could only chuckle.

"Here, Fabianna, how about I ask you one more question?"

"Uh... Alright?"

"What would you give to be a knight?"

The girl's eyes widened, taking a moment to just process his question. "I... I've got nothing to give, Sir. But," her face shifted, determination taking over. "I'd put my blood, sweat, and tears into it. There's nothing else I want more."

Thalin smiled brightly, holding out his hand to the girl. "Well then, here's my offer; I'll take you on as my squire, and all I ask is you give me this fire for everything we train on. Deal?"

Fabianna's ears twitched with a bright spark in her eyes, "Deal!" she shouted, grabbing his hand with her's.