Jul 17, 2019
@fayith naming her son joseph ( @kyllstreak )
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@fayith naming her son joseph ( @kyllstreak )
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@fayith liked for a starter
“Why don’t they trust you?” Staci sat on the cliff, his legs dangling off the edge as he sat there with Faith. Or, at least, it seemed like that. He was fairly sure Faith was there with him, but his judgement was blurred, so she could just be an illusion. But...Judgement was so hard. Judgement hurt. It separated him from others. Judge not and you will not be judged. So, Faith was there. Faith was right there, sitting in the wilderness with him.
He looked off to the southeast, looking to the Henbane River. “You aren’t a monster, Faith. They just...they don’t understand you. And their hatred is bred from ignorance. A-And you don’t want to hurt them, right? Sometimes they fight and you fight back to remind them that they belong? That they’re loved?”
@fayith // s.c.
Faith didn’t like him that much. Not since their first meeting where he TORE APART everything that she’d fallen under Joseph’s rule. Alder knew she’d been dealt a shitty hand, but her anger and rage towards him had, probably, quadrupled MORE. John hated him, but after what happened, Faith would sooner KILL HIM than let him get away with doing any more.
He’s avoided the Bliss up until now. The deputy could only get away with so much before the youngest Herald brought her into the fog. “This again...?” Alder breathes, squeezing his eyes shut as he FOUGHT to remember what he was supposed to be DOING here. “Faith....haven’t we been OVER THIS?”
@faithstarved | continued from here
“It’s not.” He holds the flower delicately. Ethan can only guess the degree of her feeling -- the bite of her nails into his wrist, then the soothing touch as she upturned his palm. “It’s not all I believe in.” What she’s told him still makes him sick. Yes, he fears Faith and her control and her potential, but he wouldn’t still be here if all he felt was fear. Empathy ties him down, ties him to her.
“Just-- sometimes.”
What does he hope to achieve by telling her this? To ‘save’ her? To go back on all this would be giving into weakness and buckling under other people and their words and backsliding into old habits. Was he just being petty when he told her that?
He wants out, for his own sake. But staying for her, as Faith’s right-hand man -- after doing what he has done for her -- it’s proving difficult to want to leave. ( When he doesn’t think of Mia. )
“It’s not all that you are. You’ve been kind to me; I know that.” He offers the flower back to her, to thread into her hair. “I’m sorry.”
do you want a flower, mrs. comstock?
HER SMILE IS A BENEDICTION: something so unlike the austere, cold likenesses of her that were so revered by all. The first rays of sun breaking across the horizon; a breath of spring in the dead of winter. She seems real. She seems alive. Never meet your idols: the gilt will stick to your fingers. So far removed from that so-called Lady of Sorrows; some strange and distant woman crafted by a hundred adoring hands and a thousand worshipping fingers. NO, NOT SORROW. BUT RADIANCE. Pale hands reaching; clutching at Faith’s and she tries her hardest not to squeeze too tightly; holds her like one would a wounded bird. “I would love one.” Draws her close, tucks the hand she’d grasped so carefully into the crook of her own arm. The air is thick with spring; humming with birdsong, with the buzzing of insects. The world wakes: and with it, so does she. “And if I may be so bold, and if you have time, that is – I would be honoured to plant its seeds into my own garden.” Loneliness had always been a companion to her; an old friend she’d carried at her side since childhood. She clings to her like ivy, like weeds; watches her with hope in those bright eyes. “Thank you, dear.”
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Eustace 😇
“Yes, Faith? What’s up?”
44. — good is not soft
Trope Writing Prompts—
Good is not soft. We learned that when we were young, didn’t we? We learned it in ways we never get the luxury of forgetting. We learned it in the way a sympathetic adult looked at us. The rare ones who would put their hands on our shoulder and tell us “they knew what we were going through”. And they didn’t they never did. We had to learn that. We had to learn that nobody had our backs. We were on our own and the world wondered why we turned out this way. And we couldn’t fight. We were too young. We were always too young. We still are too young.
They wondered why we fashioned facades out of our pasts. They wondered why we tried to find peace in an object that could control us. You had your drugs and I had mine, mine far more metaphorical than yours. But we were both riding a high, a high where the world couldn’t reach us. And we flew higher and higher. You were farther from reality and I was ignoring the notion that reality didn’t love me. We kept rising and then when reality struck us and our wings made of wax, we fell. We fell so hard so fast and so soon.
And we hit the ground. We hit the ground with broken bones and bloody tears and we clung to the first sign of usefulness. Good isn’t nice. Good isn’t soft. We aren’t soft. We aren’t here to hide. We aren’t here to be chess pieces. We’re people. We’re forced into the harsh reality of being known. We deserve to be known. We don’t have to be who They want us to be. We can be ourselves. We don’t have to do this on our own. I’ve got you and you’ve got me. And damn anyone who thinks they can just push us around.
Magic
Send In A Word, And I’ll Write A Drabble Or Starter Based On It---
The Bliss was magic. Pure magic. But not like the magic Staci knew. He knew childhood magic. He knew this idea that faith alone was enough to make bells ring louder, make snow seem softer, and make stories sound like they were all he needed to worry about. But he didn’t know this magic. He didn’t know the magic that gave and took. He didn’t know what the Bliss gave and took. Jacob never let him get near the stuff. Never let Staci have a moment of kindness or freedom. Those moments were impossible, but, this magic? It made things possible.
All he knew was that Faith was there for him. He knew that she wanted to talk to him and Joseph permitted it, so Jacob permitted it. His mind was filled with fluff and nonsense, things that didn’t connect and things that didn’t make sense. Like the Bliss fields. They didn’t make sense, the way those roots and vines moved like snakes and coils.
“Why’s...Why’s it doing that?” Staci watched as a vine of ivy began to wrap around his wrist. Wasn’t poisonous. Was just earth. Was just nature. It was okay. He was safe. And that was fine. He could breath in. He could breathe out. And petals filled the air when he gave out that breath. A flurry of petals and a rainbow of colors, twirling in the air like a ballerina’s pirouette. “Is this...this is a dream, right? None of this is real? It feels real?”