# 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐒   ,    an  independent  and  highly  selective  blog  for  an    original   &.   entirely  headcanon  based  portrayal of   𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐀   ,   the  goddess of music and protector of itsukushima as narrated by onmyoji and by japanese myth and folklore ,    loved  and  worshipped  by   𝒃𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒆 ❤    ,   she / her ,   +21   .  

╰ links: carrd , r18 sideblog , spotify playlist .

❤      ⸻     𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐒 𝐎𝐅:     the healing power of music,   𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 - 𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄,   the difference between a 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛 and the 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐫,   the never - ending cycle of death and rebirth,   𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄   &   𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒,   to overcome one’s physical and spiritual limits,   hundreds of years of solitude and the scars left 'pon the heart,   the trauma of war / wartime thoughts and wartime scars, 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧,   a life spent in golden chains.

𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒 ? she knows not what the response to this query is, for her heart is feather - light and does not wish to disclose its most intimate secrets so easily: the truth is that she has always known that one day she, too, would have walked down the path 'pon which so many of her ancestors once did and thus she never saw any other alternative [ ... ] however, she had hoped to do so with the warmth of her beloved ones by her side, with the gruff attitude of the eldest son at each fiendish encounter and the mischievous tendencies of her middle, moon - kissed brother. and if there is something that she has never learnt, then it is to clear her mind from thoughts entirely unwelcome and unpleasant: she wanders back to her homeland albeit only in thought, to those who are now nothing more than pyreflies drifting aimlessly amongst collapsed pillars and burnt down walls.

hailing from the little island of itsukushima is an ancient lineage of musicians turned summoners. sometimes, their pilgrimages would end in glory and all of spira would chant their name in chorus, other times they would end in defeat and their name would be silently carved onto stone ... but not once, was their name tarnished or their precious aid refused by those plagued by the never - ending wrath of sin. ever since the very first settlement in the island, her family has had the duty of protecting not only the land, but also those who inhabit it: aside from the sanctified figure of the summoner ( one for each generation ) , every member of the family was traditionally schooled in the different arts of war and nurture since childhood, be them the arts of valorous warriors or of selfless healers, it mattered not.

unfortunately, spira is a land of tragedy and this is something that kinnara has learnt ever since she was a child. kinnara's older sister, a fledgling summoner who had excitedly departed from the island alongside her parents who served as her guardians, precociously died during their journey due to the sudden ambush of sin and its spores thus, the role of the new summoner for the new generation was shifted onto the shoulders of kinnara who, back then, was mere years old.

despite the efforts of the last high summoner and his selfless sacrifice, the calm was never long enough, it was never powerful enough to thoroughly placate the destructive hunger of the countless fiends that would traverse the sea with the unique purpose of laying the island to waste. while kinnara studied night and day in order to hone her abilities and thus prepare herself for her future journey, more and more souls were lost to the never - ending assaults of fiends and demons: soon enough, the road in front of her was one paved onto the corpses of those who had sacrificed themselves to protect their loved ones.

eventually, sin returned ... and once sin returned, the island of itsukushima was amidst the first territories to be attacked. with barely any warrior still standing on their feet and with no healer left but kinnara herself, the defenses of the island collapsed ▬▬ where once songs could be heard, only burning ruins and hastily crafted graves now remained. kinnara was the only survivor of the assault, and although gratitude not once ceased to burn within her breastbone, the sight of her loved ones dying right in front of her was more than enough to scar her deeply.

sender and receiver have to find shelter in the woods from a sudden storm .

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐏𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄, but for someone who has grown within a cradle of star - less darkness, the tempestuous clouds above her head and the boisterous thunders tearing the darkened skies asunder are naught but the haunting reminder of the dream - like inferno in which she has grown, in which she has lost all but the light safely tucked within the arteries and ventricles of her divinity - kissed heart. still, the celestial musician is a proud creature, and even as her bones rattle beneath her silken clothes with each thunderous roar that lacerates the wrathful cerulean, she neither whines nor weeps: feather - laden ears instinctively lower themselves and the petite wings on her back can solely spread and fold repeatedly in pursuance of ridding their sterling feathers from the frustrating weight of burdensome droplets.

it takes them more than a moment to eventually find a shelter. the wooden cabin seems to have long since been abandoned by its previous owner, its furniture old and rotting with mold on the edges, walls and floors equally overtaken by voracious vines and timid blades of grass. the scent is pungent, but she can hear neither the sorrowful laments of the dead nor the fierce growls of demonic presences: they will be safe here, or so she hopes. lithe fingers cradle generous bundles of heavily drenched locks in their hold, exerting just enough pressure to squeeze out all the water [ ... ] and it is then, whilst the loud tap tap of falling droplets reverberates within the cabin like an old song, that she realizes just how tremendously dark the entire place seems to be.

can you hear that ?  sounds like a waterfall .

𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐄 [ ... ] it is a song that celebrates life in all its beautiful aspects and her heart almost willingly succumbs underneath the pleasant weight of this all - encompassing merriment ( the island of itsukushima had long since ceased to sing, its merry melodies of yore cruelly replaced by chants of mourning and prayers of grief for those who went to war and never returned ) . and thus her honey - drenched simper does not falter, even as the path ahead becomes less steady and more arduous to traverse and countless leaves end up tangled in her moonlight - painted locks ; the celestial musician knows that she could simply spread her wings and float above all these earthly obstacles, but she wants to remain by his side, even if her feet hurt and the exquisite silk of her garments is torn by greedy branches and pulled on by love - starved thorns.

at the sudden mention of a waterfall further down their path, her attention perks up     ▬▬    plumed ears perk up as well, their sterling length stiffened in curiosity on each side of her skull. ❝ shall we head there ? we could find a comfortable spot where we can rest and maybe eat something. ❞ the pleasures of feeble mortality are no longer necessary to ensure her survival, but how could she ever deny the delicacies prepared by his skilled hands ? her stomach grumbles at the mere thought, a flush spreading across doll - like features to paint the expanse of soft cheeks in gentle brushstrokes of peachy - pink.