#empyrens

In the end, the magic involved was rather simple. The cloak hasn't bound her since her death, and though there's a thin, almost imperceptible thread of magic connecting her to it, it was mere child's play to transform it into something else.

There's still a very faint connection to it, something that she can sense even though it has no real power over her anymore, but that's rather fitting for what she intends, isn't it?

Sitting on top of the balustrade, gaze set on the ocean below, Thalia let her thoughts wander. It was what she did often lately, just taking the time to think and get in tune with her thoughts and feelings. Healing was how she would describe it. Anyone could have found her like this, she wasn't hiding, wasn't even trying to be alone on purpose. So when she heared the steps behind her, she remained calm, waiting for the company to speak up. She didn't seem to waste much time when she joined her. "Just wanted to keep you company, that’s all." Diana ( @empyrens ) explained, causing Thalia to smile softly. "How very thoughtful of you, thank you." The dark haired woman turned her head, taking in the sight of her fellow Amazon. "I appreciate your presence. While my thoughts are excellent company, they don't quite compare to yours."

       *    ❝ violence changes us. you are not weak to feel its effects. ❞   from diana          ›          @empyrens       ,   prompt   [ … ]   accepting

          how she wishes she could disagree with the amazon                          but alas , she was right .     violence changed people .   it had changed her , back when she didn't care about those who could be affected by her magic  …  and the icy sparks glittering inside chagrined , intelligent hazel eyes had convinced her to cease doing whatever she wanted .   she knew violence intimately now .   knew that it was not just actions ,  but also words , thoughts , wishes .   she had been just as violent as morgana , in some ways .

understanding the choices of a woman who saw another side of the world wasn't a challenge, but it did force lois to confront an uncomfortable truth — her own powerlessness. diana was a warrior, a princess, a peacemaker who could ride with gods, and travel to spaces that would collapse fragile human lungs. it meant that she ( despite being a crack shot, with a platform of truth, and enough self defense skills to be a formidable adversary for a mugger on a late night ) couldn't spare her this kind of hurt.

self inflicted, as far as lois had seen, like half the world, on television. it was the first time she'd seen her kill, and knew without knowing, that it was the only option — that god formed beings always returned, while other life offered no second chances. none for little martin, who had been turned to stone, and spurred all of this on. her hand raised, fingertips hovering before they settled, offering the amazon a chance to sense her there. those digits settle with a gentle stroke, one that turns to cradling a cheek as her expression turned conflicted. the bandage around diana's eyes concealed the venom injury, and she made no attempt to shift it, though it was easy to wonder if anything her hands could manage would offer her some relief.

       *    18.  the moon  :  what does your muse long for ? is it a realistic desire ?          ›          @empyrens​      ,   prompt   [ … ]   accepting

when talking about desires and longing , it is important in gwen’s case to talk about short term longing and long term longing .  indeed , while short term desires may appear obvious in her case , long term ones aren’t as easy to discern .  especially because gwen is constantly hammering the point that things were fine the way they were before her and karen moved to australia , and it is only after her life has fallen apart that she realizes what she has always wanted .  nonetheless , to get there first , we need to tackle her short term desires , and whether or not they are realistic .

gwen’s desires , on the short term  (  meaning during the entirety of her series’ run  )  are simple  :  all she wants is to get her mother back .  as i’ve explained before , gwen’s mother is cursed , being possessed by a demon .  the source of that demon is none other than morgana , who has instructed a certain member of her entourage in doing the deed .  the reason why gwen accepts to fight against evil and to learn magic is in order to free karen , and the series is built in order for her to grow and get there .  thankfully , as merlin tells her from the start , such a desire is realistic , and gwen does succeed at repelling the demon , though at a great cost .  the entire series , gwen has been attempting to protect merlin’s stone from morgana’s hands , and said crystal winds up being the key to break the curse placed onto karen .  thus , gwen travels back in time and brings the crystal with her to cure karen , but when she attempts to return it to merlin’s time through faerie , it winds up falling into morgana’s hands thanks to o’ leary .  i won’t spoil the rest of the series beyond that point , but needless to say , it is a realistic desire , and gwen does achieve it , after having worked hard in order to help her mother .

That shelvy doe-eyed smile on the posters;  the bracers that don’t fit quite right, always shifting on the screen. If it’d been one of her suits, they would’ve fit perfectly. They would’ve hugged her bones in the Vought-stamped chilling embrace of a suit that reminds her, always, of who she is and who she will continue to be. There wouldn’t be room for the air of the world around her. That’s not Doris’s job in this year, unfortunately, so she would have to bear the breeze. There’s something about these heroes. Their identities are seeped beyond their fancy suits, their civilian life;  well, aside from the dark one.

“I’m here to drink alone,”    rolls out in a voice more biting than the Barbie on the television. Doris ignores this;  parks herself on the stool beside her and places her elbows on the counter. Beneath the lashes of her eyes, coated with an ambiguous dust, her lips curve up in a tight-lipped smile.    “Then you shouldn’t have come to a public bar,”    she replies. She taps a white nail to the tender.    “Unless The Seven’s got reserved seating for every dusty shithole they find themselves in.”    She pauses her tapping.    “What do you drink?”

The wolf skull’s been traded for her angled face and thin, split white hair that drapes down the shoulders. No foreboding cloak, but a pale pink cardigan and some pants looking freshly picked out of the bottom of a draw. How keen would Queen Maeve’s nose be towards a stranger at a bar? Doris hasn’t come here for her. Opportunities tend to come in the form of surprises.

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