#ofchiralium

🌿 * 𝐧𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 : 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎-𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜.

𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 : what does joy look like for your muse? how do they let themself feel it?

It looks like the early morning, when the air is still cold and the heat hasn’t set in. The big kettle is already on, someone is laughing in the garden over something small. Plates are being passed around, covered in foods from their gardens and breads they have baked - children are running around safely, playing, happy. 

Joy is in the way the people lean toward each other when they talk, when they can’t get the grins off of their faces. It’s the trust that they are loved, that they are protected, that they can rest; it’s not only the feeling of acceptance, but the feeling of belonging. The knowledge that you are with your people, and that they don’t want you anywhere but here. 

Arthur sits on the steps, tea in hand, watching it unfold. He isn’t a leader, here, and he’s not the avatar of a god; he is just a man. One of the hundred hands that made this happen, that took this dangerous part of town and made it into something safe. He watches the people, knowing that they exist safely, that no one here will ever harm each other; and for a few moments, he allows himself to believe he’s brought Heaven to earth. 

She hears his word. Grips onto them. Doesn't feel he would be a great father. But she sees pass it. That sadness in his eyes. The hurt. The fear. Death takes a step closer to him. A gentle hand reaching out and placing it over the top of his. "It's okay to be scared and feel like you don't think you would want to be a father. But.. You could be better. You can do better than him." She knows that even in death. His father haunted him.

“Genius always looks like insanity first, right?”

That statement gave Heartman some pause, his head tilting thoughtfully as he considered it. "In some ways, I suppose," he answered carefully. He turned to face Higgs then. "But not always. It depends on ones' audience. If you're surrounded by others of a similar mindset, nothing looks like insanity."

He always talked with his hands, and this conversation was no different. "But," and here he held up a finger, "not everyone has the same mindset. Mathematics, for example, are not a strong suit of mine. Frankly, even chemistry and other hard sciences have taken some time to adapt to..." He made an undecisive see-saw gesture with his hand.

Aubrey walks in the record store and looks around. A fresh batch of cookies in a small platter. Okay it was a little much for most people. But she always welcomed stores she has yet to explore with something sweet.

Her eyes move to the front counter, taking in a deep breath and smile on her lips.

✖ @ofchiralium inquired: “He left his shadow behind. I see it walking sometimes.”

southern gothic sentence starters | accepting

"Devils tend to do that." Fox answered simply, a shrug raising one shoulder. "Angels too sometimes." Ghosts of the past drifting in shadows, always in the corner of the eye. If you turned quick enough, you might just see it clear enough to know for sure. "Why do you think you're seeing him now?" Or maybe he was only telling her about it now. That would be worse, something for her to chew on later. Her own sort of shadow.

"You've felt that way a long time?" he asked, leaning back in his seat after plucking a few cherries from the bowl between them.

Took advantage of popping one in his mouth for the seconds of observation and thought it gave him without being too obvious. The feeling wasn't unfamiliar to him, not after the night the Harkonnens burned everything to the ground, and it was why he had clung so tightly to his goal to avenge his father.

Someone: Is this your man?