Divine Flowers

WANT TO HELP BUT DON'T KNOW HOW? GO HERE

For donations:

We Love Foundation: Provinding food, water, medical support, hygiene kits, shelter supplies, logistics, and direct support for vulnerable families on the ground. They have worked with global partners and Venezuelan nonprofits for the past 13 years.

The Gio Foundation: Humanitarian and animal aid nonprofit organization accepting donations through their portal.

Aldeas Infantiles SOS: Accepts donations in bolívares (Venezuelan currency) through their Venezuelan branch. Donations in foreign currencies can be sent through Aldeas Infantiles SOS Spain.

Save the Children’s Emergency Fund: Donations will go towards providing urgent, life-saving support to Venezuelan children.

UNICEF Spain: Has launched an Emergency Fund for Venezuelan children.

Miami-based Venezuelan American Chamber of Commerce Foundation: Launched a fundraising campaign to provide food, water, medicine, shelter and emergency relief.

World Central Kitchen: Providing fresh meals to communities in need in Venezuela.

Caritas Venezuela: Accepting both venezuelan and foreign donations.

Alimenta La Solidaridad: Activated their humanitarian network to support communities affected by the earthquake and deliver aid where it is needed the most.

International Medical Corps: Deployed members of their in-country team to the affected region to assess needs, working in close collaboration with local officials and emergency responders.

The House Project: Providing emergency humanitarian aid to those who need it most.

Fundación ACNUR Argentina: Independent, non-profit organization that works to raise public awareness and secure funds to support the humanitarian aid programs of ACNUR (the UN Refugee Agency).

Emergency Appeal by Healing Venezuela: Healing Venezuela is a UK based charity focused on alleviating the health crisis in Venezuela.

SOS Venezuela Appeal by People In Need: People in Need is a Czech non-governmental, non-profit organization active all over the world.

Ayudo Venezuela: A website to look up all collecting centers available in Venezuela.

Some collecting centers around the world: Find a near collecting center if there's any and help with anything you can.

For reporting missing people/pets:

Desaparecidos Terremoto Venezuela: If anyone you know in Venezuela is missing you can report them here.

Encuéntralos: You can locate people here.

HuellaScan: Website to report and locate missing pets.

Other resources and articles:

A map to see damages in Venezuela

Earthquakes in Venezuela: What We Know by Caracas Chronicles

Key Information About Venezuela’s State of Emergency by Caracas Chronicles

A Shaken Country and an Exposed State by Juan Carlos Gabaldón

Important video with information about Venezuela by Alex TVzla on instagram

For the best information about Venezuela in english please follow Caracas Chronicles and Alex TVzla on instagram.

If you are from the US call your representatives to pressure into aiding Venezuela as much as possible. Please, my country needs all the help they can get.

There are many Venezuelan communities around the world coming together and organizing to help those back home. Find the nearest collecting center and please help with whatever you can! }

Venezuela was already a devastated country, and this just made everything a million times worse.

All these campaigns/fundraisers I'm sharing have been verified.

Private; Selective; Indie; Occasionally an artist

Doctor Joseph Florence Anthem | OC RP BLOG -> OC CARRD

Multiship & Multiverse ; 16+ RP experience ; probably dead dove don't eat

OC friendly; Canon friendly; 21+ ; Lit (3+ Para most of the time)

Written by Lunar, 28M

informative post i made for instagram regarding the catastrophic earthquakes here in my country but i thought i'd share it here too

🆘🆘🆘PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU CAN'T DONATE!!! we are DESPERATELY trying to get more people to talk about this!!

Yesterday a dual earthquake hit Venezuela within a single minute: 7,2 and 7,5.

Tonight hundreds of people remain missing. Some are dead under the rubble and some are still waiting to be rescued. Hospitals need medicines urgently, so many people have lost their houses, buildings are about to collapse as we speak.

I'm just asking for people to look our way, to notice the suffering in Venezuela and learn more about what's happening. Maybe you'll find out that your country is organizing themselves to send help— or you could offer comfort for the Venezuelans around you that are worried about their relatives.

It just takes a minute to inform yourselves.

Please share and raise your voice on social media.

Venezuela needs all the help it can get!

Earthquakes in Venezuela: What We Know by Caracas Chronicles

Key Information About Venezuela’s State of Emergency by Caracas Chronicles

VENEZUELA’S EARTHQUAKE STATE OF EMERGENCY: HOW TO HELP

We Love Foundation: Provinding food, water, medical support, hygiene kits, shelter supplies, logistics, and direct support for vulnerable families on the ground. They have worked with global partners and Venezuelan nonprofits for the past 13 years.

The Gio Foundation: Humanitarian and animal aid nonprofit organization accepting donations through their portal.

Aldeas Infantiles SOS: Accepts donations in bolívares (Venezuelan currency) through their Venezuelan branch. Donations in foreign currencies can be sent through Aldeas Infantiles SOS Spain.

Save the Children’s Emergency Fund: Donations will go towards providing urgent, life-saving support to Venezuelan children.

UNICEF Spain: Has launched an Emergency Fund for Venezuelan children.

Miami-based Venezuelan American Chamber of Commerce Foundation: Launched a fundraising campaign to provide food, water, medicine, shelter and emergency relief.

Source: Caracas Chronicles

" Mmm... but you might want to start running, this place is going to explode soon."

────୨ৎ────

"𝖤𝗑𝖼𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗓-𝗆𝗈𝗂?" 𝖥𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌. 𝖥𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗂  𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀  𝗎𝗉  𝗁𝖾𝗋  𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾?  𝖧𝖾𝗋  𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅  𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾  𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾?  𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾  𝖺𝗎𝖽𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒  𝗈𝖿  𝖺  𝖧𝖺𝗋𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋  𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀  𝗌𝗈  𝖶𝖧𝖨𝖫𝖤  𝖣𝖤𝖥𝖠𝖢𝖨𝖭𝖦  𝖠  𝖢𝖱𝖮𝖨𝖲𝖲𝖠𝖭𝖳.

"𝖶𝗁𝗈  𝖽𝗈   𝗒𝗈𝗎  𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾  𝗒𝗈𝗎  𝖺𝗋𝖾?"  𝖲𝗁𝖾  𝗃𝗎𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽  𝗍𝗈  𝗁𝖾𝗋  𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗍  𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁  𝖺  𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍  𝗋𝖾𝖽  𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗁  𝖺𝗌  𝗌𝗁𝖾  𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽  𝗍𝗈  𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗁𝖾𝗇𝖽  𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀  𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀.  𝖲𝗁𝖾  𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽  𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒  𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌—𝗒𝖾𝗍  𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀  𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽  𝗁𝖾𝗋  𝖿𝗈𝗋  𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖼  𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌  𝗎𝗉𝗈𝗇  𝗁𝖾𝗋  𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾.  𝖲𝗁𝖾  𝗐𝖺𝗌  𝖺𝗀𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗍  𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍  𝖺  𝖥𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗎𝗌  𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽  𝖽𝖺𝗋𝖾  𝖽𝗈  𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁  𝖺  𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀  𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋  𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺  𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾.

"𝖤𝗍 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗊𝗎𝗈𝗂  𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗓-𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌  𝗎𝗇𝖾  𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗇𝗍!?" { 𝖠𝗇𝖽  𝗐𝗁𝗒  𝖺𝗋𝖾  𝗒𝗈𝗎  𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀  𝖺  𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗇𝗍!? }

𝖤𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁  𝖻𝖾  𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗇𝖾𝖽,  𝗌𝗁𝖾  𝗐𝖺𝗌  𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝖽  𝖺𝗇𝖽  𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁  𝗐𝖺𝗌  𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌  𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆  𝗍𝗁𝖾  𝗐𝖺𝗒  𝗌𝗁𝖾  𝗋𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍𝖾𝖽  𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌  𝗍𝗁𝖾  𝗐𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇  𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖾  𝗁𝖾𝗋  𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖲𝗁𝖾  𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽  𝗍𝗈  𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐  𝗁𝖾𝗋  𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍  𝖿𝗈𝗋!  𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗇  𝗂𝖿  𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍  𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗍  𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀  𝗍𝗁𝖾  𝖧𝖺𝗋𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋  𝗍𝗈  𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽  𝗂𝖿  𝗌𝗁𝖾  𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍!

────In her delicate & pristine dress, the Damselette would almost look like a dancer, gracefully moving as if her feets never truly touched the ground. She felt Furina rush towards her, yet she would merely twirl & move out of her way as soundlessly as if carried by the wind.

"Oh, my Apologies." Columbina's voice would not change, in fact it would remain so calm, as if ignoring the mere smell of burning rope & other chemicals. It hadn't been her doing actually, but Lyney & Lynette's terrible mischievousness against targets. Or was it actually a magic trick? She couldn't remember, she wasn't really paying attention when distracted by the pretty architecture & sounds. All so different from the snowy lands she resided. & Even now she was also ignoring the small fact of why Furina would be livid.

"I shall have taken you into consideration when addressing you so out the blue."

She would then calmly take the chocolate croissant & divide it in half, offering Furina the half that wasn't already bitten. "Arlecchino said the Fontanian Cuisine was a marvel to enjoy, but she also told me to share... I may bring cake next time"

⸻"I so hope the very same, Mon Amour ; that every Other Me on every other universe has the chance to find you & be loved by you all the same." The Matron would smile lovingly, softly holding the Detective's hand & kissing her knuckles, adding with a half joking tone:

"...We can always jump through portals & make it happen if so is needed~ ♥"

// so, uh, bad news.

I drastically underestimated my tax bill this year, which I thought was going to be half of what it was. I doubled my income to like $25k and the result was that I owe like $5.5k in taxes being self employed.

Now, I did have enough savings to pay it all lump sum.

But now I am broke and have no cushion and I am worried about acquiring debt because I don't have anything to backstop it.

I do have a kofi, if you want to throw me a few bucks.

Again, trying not to worry too much about not having savings now.

fiveforfive - collective fund for trans women and girls and transfem causes

gendered intelligence - trans led advocacy org

mermaids - supports trans youth

akt - lgbtq youth homelessness charity

loving me - domestic abuse service for trans people in england

Death...

Death was not like the morning sun beaming through stained glass, warming the hallways of the cathedral and bathing it in colored light; a soft exhale of a good day to come.

BUT LIKE THE SCREAMS OF MASSES CRUSHED UNDERFOOT; THE WHAILS OF THE DEAD AS HUNDREDS OF ACOLYTES WERE SMASHED INTO RED PASTE. THEIR BREATHS RIPPED FROM TORN THROATS AND CRUSHED LUNGS.

"FIGHT! FLEE! IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE! YOUR SCREAMS OR TERROR, YOUR DEATH RATTLES- ALL YOUR ASPIRA BELONGS TO ME!"

A towering giant; encased in a suit of stained glass, once more stained- by blood and viscera. Swirls and tendrils of aspira finding their way to the giant and her mace.

Knights, Paladins, Acolytes, Conjurers- it didn't matter. The legions of the Aspirant Congregation were weak against the Neverghaast Tyrant. And every breath taken was one absorbed. But there was something... something in this mass that she had set her eyes on.

"YOU CANNOT HIDE YOUR PRIZE FROM ME; ITS WHIRLWIND OF ASPIRA IS WHAT REVEALS IT TO MY GAZE!" The tyrant claims, crushing even the most powerful of protectors. Another relic of the Congregation to destroy and suck dry of aspira. Another attempt at finding some trinket that could stop the walking cathedral; a title given by the Aspirants to the Tyrant. Because of her giant stature and the armor that when unstained resembled a cathedral with marble walls and dark stained-glass windows... It was a mockery to their belief; no one knows who came up with the title but it was fitting despite the mockery she presented herself as.

The calls of 'Flee, Sister!' and 'Protect the sister!' Were quickly silenced by a single swing of the mace and a foot sent crashing down upon a body. There it was- no, not it; she.

"THERE YOU ARE, YOU REEK OF ASPIRA... DRENCHED IN IT. THIS ENTIRE ARMY COULD NOT DROWN OUT THE BREATH OF THE WORLD THAT EMINATES FROM YOUR SMALL STATURE."

Desperation set in for the Aspirants. For all their tried and true tactics they all went berserk and crazy in desperation trying to stop the Tyrant...

How easy it would be to snuff out their existence...

But in cruel mockery she raised the mace high and slammed it into the ground; magic bled from the stained glass of her mace tainting the fields. Cracks formed like glass shattering through pressure and surrounded the woman...

Then it all broke and she, together with the tyrant, fell into nothingness. Like the ground they had been standing on was as fragile as the glass that told so many stories.

"Heed my words, my daughter." The old reverend's voice echoes as she falls. "Do not let the Walking Cathedral capture you... for you may never return to the flock."

And when her eyes open once more she finds herself in a church long forgotten. Where the glass is shattered and tells no story but serves as a tormenting carpet of defeat. The halls howl with the winds and what was once a place for the congregation to meet and pray there is only a throne of broken altars and pews... And the woman upon it directed her eyes to her captive.

Laying upon torn banners of the Aspirant Congregation. Like a foundling left for sanctuary... If only the statues and windows depicted any saints. For there was only cruelty and suffering in these halls now.

"I WOULD HAVE SNAPPED YOUR NECK ON THE FIELDS IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOUR BREATH, LITTLE ASPIRANT... SO ANSWER MY QUESTION IF YOU WISH TO CONTINUE HAVING IT BE YOURS."

"YOU REEK OF ASPIRA, WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF THE WELL?"

⸻Smouldering; almost delicate as the Well’s whispers & breath surround her with silverish mist. It is death cold to everyone in the Congregation but her; a Pure Tribute to the Altar left at the Stairs of this Cathedral, when no more memories had yet to be engraved on her fragile mind than her own newborn cries, the scent of sweet petrichor in a Rose Garden & the myrrh incense staining Father Lee Sin’s pristine robes, their voice the first gentle thing she knew. & Still, the Well had extended its greedy tendrils after two decades of pliant & dutiful dedication, growing among the colorful tainted glass & presigning acolytes, dressed like a novice & with memorized prayers to give with unbreakable faith as she knelt. 

The Well had been demanding; warm in its embrace where some others would be scalded as if Hell itself would raise its flames. All the Immortal dance of Aspira speaking to her ears, possessive of its Chosen Lamb to carry this everlasting duty, so very required for those who mingled against the sinners & heretics outside the walls… For how would all those Weapons become pure once more, to be carried into the holy wars against Neverghaasts if not by pure, unstained hands to bring them here, to gently step in the center of the breathing well & hold a plethora of Relics.

Pistols, Swords, Catalyzers, Staffs, & beyond— She knew them all, whose hands held them after hers, which were the Well’s favorites too. Sarah’s Pistols were immensely liked, the silverish tendrils always lovingly caressing the metal as if meeting once more with an old friend. Sometimes, it would also reach to her wrist, curling in a soothing hold as Emilia sang prayers for the Aspira with iridescent tears in her eyes… 

But tonight, as she was below in the Catacombs, the sounds of destruction had not yet reached her ears. Too deep down the stony & protected place, yet she felt the hold of the Well far more tighter, a silverish tendril pleading for her not to go. The whispering waters & the voices of the Breath of Life hushing into foreign tongues.  

“What’s wrong? What has disturbed you?” The Aspirant’s voice wandered, her palm caressing the flowing surface as she would a frightened creature, with a familiarity only she had with it. Only for her almost completely falling into the Well’s Aspira due the thunderous pace above. The debris & gravel of the catacomb’s ceiling creeping in the stone floors as she raised from her position.

Stay —the Well pleads in her mind, sinuously whispering, like languid thing trying to reach & curling around its own smokes— Don’t Leave Us

But the screams & frightened calls for help from the other Aspirants above make her fearful, quickening her pace up the hundreds of stairs leading her back into the halls of the Cathedral. 

Death welcoming her, a gasp of horror at the scene & the voices of all the Knights, Paladins, Acolytes trying to win her time to flee, more than a couple breaking until their last breath to attempt stopping the giant Tyrant approaching, addressing her by the very same reasoning that froze her momentarily in place. { Had this all been due her? } The anger of the fight was almost silent around her, as guilt & blame settled. Her voice hoping to plea for the Life of all those remaining, to aid them, to pray for the Well or Nocturne to come up from its hiding cracks of this Sanctuary… 

Yet all fell to black as quickly as torment had brought destruction to the remains of the nave & chapels & fields of the Aspira Congregation — All because of how Aspira emanate from her like a fountain, the Well’s very essence clinging, sharing, dripping like shattered vessel whose contains would never stop pouring… 

"Heed my words, my daughter."

The old reverend's voice echoes as she falls into the darkness, her moonlight pale fingers extending to the nothingness as if hoping to grasp Father Lee Sin’s hand out of this Nightmarish reality. 

"Do not let the Walking Cathedral capture you... for you may never return to the flock."

She could feel the warmth of her iridescent tears once more as she fell into the darkness, only for returning to consciousness to the same voice that had stolen her from the walls & stained glass that for almost three decades had conformed her whole world. Trapped inside the Gilded Cage for so long, the wind howling among the broken windows is chilling yet oddly distracting, as her ears adjust to the demands & her body to the discomfort. She didn’t know if she fell in this stone & did not feel the impact, yet her whole silhouette ached as if she had… 

Emilia took a moment to breathe deep, & exhale air that was sweeter than any incense without her being aware of such. Every word, a reminiscence of the Well’s very spiritual essence as if she was Breath of Life incarnate, all touched by her own connection.

“I— I know it from Casualty. I’m merely a visitor to it, solely to purify weaponry among its breath & water. Cleanse Relics from their wounds.” Her voice was melodious, & despite the frightened stuttering at the beginning it betrayed no lie. Genuinity falling from her lips as her golden gaze focused on the woman upon the Throne of blasphemies. The armor almost gave her an air of a fallen saint to her eyes… 

“I’m the only one allowed down to it—” She knew also how Nocturne guarded it, & yet he allowed her down the stairs for a sacred duty. The Girl who was raised to be Holy enough for no ulterior motives to endanger it all, but as soft all the same:  “... perhaps that’s why I may give a bit of its essence?” 

But it was no little at all. She permeated the air with the aura around & within her body, unknowingly on how her own innate magic had trailed with the Well, like a Vessel of its delights & desires. A Servant to the Well, a Saint to the Congregations Religious Books, a Lamb to Slaughter for all who may covet… 

“I’m no more than the simplest of Aspirants among the Congregations, I assure you. I’m not even one to fight despite how many weapons those hands had touched. What use shall I be when I’m not beyond a novice, Mistress?” How shall she address her? She wondered in the middle of her kneeled position in front of her, hands folded over her lap. 

“Why cause so much destruction to get to me?”

Sahn-Uzal squeezed his eyes shut, trying to put together words through the pain. Part of him wishing it was as simple as she said. He wished all that it took was a ceasefire, but Eowen made it clear that she wasn’t willing to give Emilia a choice. Her presence at his side rather than that in the fight was noted and appreciated. With her hands holding him with such sweetness; he felt a small yearning and undeserving part of him wish to push her away.

The Uzal knew he couldn’t do that—he had finally seen something that he wanted to hold onto and cherish. She was protecting him despite what little time the two spent together, and he refused to be so heartless as to deny he felt the same. If she was taken from him, he was certain that she would let herself fall into the background once again.

A tear broke free from his eyes—heart so heavy with everything.

“Emilia, please.” He breathed through extreme difficulty as his chest hurt with every breath.“I-I can explain.” He whimpered, wrapping his uninjured arm. “I never thought I would care to fight against someone who would best me in earnest. I never meant to control you—that was never my thought, I assure you. You protect your Coven, as I protect my Bu. This is your choice—make Eowen promise she will not hurt me or take you unjustly, then I’ll stop this madness.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

All of it came much too late as Vladimir tries to free his vision from the tears that gathered so greatly in his eyes. His fear, sadness, and most of all hopelessness was betrayed with each movement. He channelled his sorrow into his attacks—no longer realizing who he was fighting as evident in his intense expression in comparison to earlier when his conscious seemed to show through.

At least—at that moment—Vladimir was not deep in his memories. Instead it was similar to running on auto-pilot than that of reliving it all… Not until Eowen bit and pulled his memories to the surface through her magic, and then he lost what little grip he had on reality.

He screamed so loudly as if he was being executed—stabbed with thousands of blades. He collapsed as his magic disappeared from his hands and the blood soaked into the ground. The hemomancer sobbed so loudly as his whole body shook from the intense memories that wrapped around his mind like vines. Vladimir pressed his head down against the floor in supplication—his hands forced out and downward.

⸻Confusion settles upon the molten-gold of her irises; like an ever-changing twilight, the hues of he emotions shift among the crushing melancholy & despair. “You— you already told me so… Control me? What do you mean by that— … & it is surrendering at the Arena, the trick of you giving your all to best my divinity—? Why are you telling me so now—” Her inquiries came laced with a tremulous voice. A melody cracking among the edges amidst the pain & the blinding glow of hopefulness for all this to be a misunderstanding. “Sahn—”

Yet her voice would not find time to properly keep asking, as even as her hands kept holding the Warlord with the all-consuming tenderness & preoccupation, Vladimir’s agonizing & intense scream would make her flinch like a startled bird, the pain & sorrow all too great that makes her gasp in reflection, turning back her sight to the battle reaching its peak. The image almost mimicking a sacrifice to be offering & yet before her voice would scream for Eowen to spare his life, it was the very same Vesani who would finally turn away from the Hemomancer & focus her attention back at them… 

Her glare bright still with turquoise glow & the spirit fire orbs flowing around like a prison of memories around her former foe. She didn’t want to keep Vladimir in such a state for longer than necessary, yet the High Priestess wasn’t willing to keep wasting precious time when the grains of sad would still keep falling. She didn’t come for the Blood-lust of a Human Child turned Magical Weapon, she came to atone for the Sins caused by a Mortal with too much Greed & Ambition… 

“Enough of this!”

Eowen’s voice came as she approached, still upon her Vesani monstrous form. Her alabaster, ever-pristine fur was now stained with her own blood & those from the Hemomancer at the attacks that had managed to reach her —But she did not prance this time, even if her anger was growing by any step as destruction of the camp would clear around them with the dust, powers & debris all settling down.

“You want to live, Sahn Uzal—? You want me to give her a Choice? Very well, I’ll allow her to have a Choice in this, & I will follow thoroughly. However—”

Before Emilia could react, & even as thorny vines would try to grasp to the front legs of Eowen, one of her paws made the man stumble back into the ground, pressing just enough to trap him against the soils, & make him face her: All Danger, all bloodied fangs as she growled from above, ignoring Emilia’s hands & pleas for her not to harm him. 

“Tell her the Truth, oh Lord of the Steppes. Tell her the truth of what you do to your Mages, of what you did to him! The scars he wears! SPEAK!” She snarled, pupils constricted in returning anger & vitriol. All flowing & pressing just enough into him to let him know who had the right cards here, even as now that Emilia wasn’t focusing her magic into protection & defense, & the spell to ease his pain may flow back slowly.

 “IF YOU WANT HER TO HAVE A CHOICE, YOU’LL GIVE HER THE TRUTH.”

Then a strange voice joined—one closer, more closer than he had expected. Eowen’s voice crying out to him, and metaphorical hands dove deep into the water to try to grab him, but he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move.

“Fight against his biding, fight against his hold!” He couldn’t, it wasn’t a choice he could make, it wasn’t something he could do any longer. His power was gone, taken away from him yet again, time and time again and he was pathetic to think that he was—

“Didn’t you say you were no mortal!?” {What difference did it make? The tyrant of the Great Grass Ocean may be a man, but it changed nothing. It only makes all this more painful to watch. At least with the D—.} His thoughts came to a sudden and painful stop.

“You are stronger than him! You can fight his hold, don’t need to obey your Captor.” {But I do. I can’t ignore him. It makes no difference to fight back against…}

Vladimir’s pain started to show in his movements—desperation starting to grow as the panic of remembering built and built. Fear starting to show up loudly in his face—lip trembling as he started to cry. He pulled on Eowen’s wounds, using it to heal his initial wound so that he may move to using only the Vesani’s blood.

The foxfire hit his shoulder as he tripped over one of the thorns that lay idle underneath his feet, making him cry out in pain and his eyes grew even brighter red as he seemed to be shoved underneath even worse. Anger—deeper and stronger than anything he felt in Eowen’s presence, and it was obvious with the wafting emotions that this more dangerous than even that previously. His hemomancy quickening as if he was using it as a slashing dagger. He would win again.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

—Sahn knew that this was getting worse, more dangerous with each moment he told Vladimir to keep fighting. He hadn’t see such power, even when he had fought him properly. What did that mean for Eowen?

“Em—” He gasped out so loudly as golden thorns tore and broke off into his skin as she cried. It felt like the world was wishing to cave in on itself. The pain of his wounds seemed to rip into him worse, as if she had poured pure alcohol across it all.

⸻They were all flowers & petals; gemstones at the greedy hands of Fate, every single them were no more than tributes upon an Altar. A Lover, a Mage, a Priestess & the Idol to who all this conundrum was to blame; the very same Idol whose blood stained the lilac fabrics of a gifted attire that symbolizes belonging. The same idol whose tears ran wildly across porcelain cheeks, glistening gold at the morning’s light blinding her. The same idol who had awoken upon gigglings & laugher like the first flower of Spring, now felt the white petals of a thorned crown fall along as she turns around with vivid trepidation & dread.

“Sahn!” Her voice trembles as she kneels by his side. The same delicate digits that had caressed his face among furtive first kisses, were now trying to hold him straight with no fortune. 

The spell she had gifted him with needed sustained flow of magic, & just as a body would refrain from blood flowing to the farthest of places upon strife & endure, her own vessel would choose to self–protect the debilitating & constant usage she was given without restrains to protect Eowen along with Vladimir at times, as if creating barriers & thorny vines to grasp & take out of place any attacks… but that, plus the fact her existence was still procuring to be healed & reforming, only left with the incantation deemed unnecessary, even as her hands would try to offer him solace, leak drops of magic to hold him still—

“Please… Please, I don’t mean to hurt you, but I cannot allow them to hurt each other! They— they have to stop this…” Her digits cradled his features for him to look up at her through the pain. The remaining flowers upon her head are almost a gilded halo at the morning’s shadowplay.  

The magic flowing from her & into the soils to sustain the protections & defenses would work instinctively regardless as if knowing what it had to do upon her sole desire. The Soils will respond to her crying pleas, to her pain & frustrations & to anything it could comply to as long as they can have her smile once more, as long as the pain in her heart could stop… & Eowen could hear it, feel it beneath her own clawed paws, the manner all flora & foliage was asking them —demanding them— to stop this nonsense.

But the agonizing possibility of the future, the terrible truths she had been allowed to know & now to witness were overlapping. What could a Mortal Tyrant do if possessing all the power upon Nature itself around him? Anything could bloom, from healing to poison, anything could happen… from companion to weapon. 

The Myths of the Enchanted Forest halted in a terrible similar fate, Eowen remembers as spirit flames seek & aim to the Hemomancer. The skies had turned grey, the burned woods left by those who came to attack, steal, domain… the metallic taste upon memory from the fallen sun warriors in their prisons of flesh & horrors, wanting to obtain more than they could through conquest—

Her eyes widen & her prancing comes to an immediate halt as the memories that she could snatch from Vladimir tastes similar & it almost makes her step back as every hair across her snowy fur raises in alert. The familiarity his arcane abilities was giving to her from the very beginning of his retalling at the Ger the Coven had been sharing, the expertise upon blood as a dangerous tool, the flavor of who was touched & tainted & destroyed by those. The Pain tastes richer, it is acid, it is terrible & overwhelming. It makes her clench her teeth, makes her nauseous at the flavors of all-draining grief. 

She feels tears upon her fur, as she pleas for forgiveness. { You are a Pawn in this Game, Child– ; I’m sorry. }

Her eyes change color, from amber to bright turquoise as she focus & bends those memories into illusion right to his mind, moving quickly to avoid any attack, yet even if a couple would reach her, the movement & the trailing of her Vesani magic proceeded. 

Catch a snip ; follow the trail; a rabbit being chased into its own den— Such was Memory Bending, a weapon directly to the mind like a piercing knife, wielded to overwhelm & distract, to portray into his own the worst of his memories, the most cruel, the most painful, all those that would even come with the vivid illusions upon body memory if given the chance.

{ You are not My Prey ; but I must deem you one. }

As the cries of Emilia pleading the Uzal & the way even the zephyrs of the gales had stopped their dance in ominous incoming possibilities, even as the anger bubbling within continued & her own wounds bled, her own conviction would continue, her focus unyielding—

She made the promise to the All Mother; to assure her Daughter’s protection, & no amount of exhaustion nor pain nor torture inflicted upon her will make her strive from the Path she had chosen & sworn to, as another snarl & growl would be given while piecing with the images of even far more terrible Captors into his mind.