Oct 18, 2020
Pumpkin spice > worldwide pandemic
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Pumpkin spice > worldwide pandemic
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The Facade
Sylphrena of the Kha.
The voice in the memory rang out clearly as she thought back to that day. She remembered the yurt where it happened, the smoke from the fire in the center rising between herself and the elders. Behind her gathered several others of the tribe. Eleven families who had been robbed of their children. Their husbands. Their wives. Eleven families who glared at the lone girl standing before the fire and the elders.
You were sent to Eorzea to learn. To protect those chosen to learn as well. By your own admission, they died due to your negligence.
She looked to her mother, who sat among the elders. The older woman glanced to her daughter, face unreadable, as she interrupted the charges levied against Sylphrena.
Elder Kholtan. I have no doubt that the negligence was not purely Sylphrena’s doing. Certainly the others bore some of this responsibility as well. They had watchers, did they not? They had warriors. To lay so much at the feet of one is hardly--
Altun, enough! Your daughter has freely admitted to this being her fault. You will not sway judgement simply because she is of your blood and you wish to protect her.
The others behind her murmured, shifting as they discussed what Sylphrena had told them. She left the camp to see someone. There was no relevant knowledge that the red haired woman would have given her. But she was drawn as a moth to flame. Not only was she not with her people, but she actively pursued relations with an outsider. Certainly this would be enough to expel her from the tribe. Her mother and the elders shouting ceased, and Sylphrena blinked as they directed a question to her.
What have you to say for yourself Sylphrena?
She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated.
I--I accept the judgement of the tribe.
The voices behind her began to rise, a cacophony that threatened to deafen her as Elder Kholtan rendered his judgement.
Then I hereby banish you from the Kha. You may gather your things and enough provisions to return to Reunion, but you will no longer be a part of our family.
The voices gave way to a deep, rumbling laughter, causing the woman to open her eyes and stir from her meditation. Darkness as deep and impenetrable as an abyss surrounded her. She blinked, staring forward as a single voice spoke to her now, coming from all sides.
The lengths you go to preserve your masks, darling Syl. Easy to lie when you make yourself believe it is truth, is it not? I quite enjoyed this performance. It was incredibly convincing.
The Xaela thinned her lips. “It is necessary. Others must believe these lies if I am to succeed in my task.”
But not Ros. You didn’t even hesitate to tell her your secret. A secret that could get you killed. Why?
Sylphrena felt her cheeks burn at the question, emotions stirring that she did not stop immediately. “Ros is different. She is...Trustworthy. Generous. I cannot lie to her. It would-- it would not be right.” The voice laughed around her again.
Careful my darling. If you’re not careful, you might get burned. Again. Do you think you’ll tell her that you were with her the night the sept died? I know you don’t blame her, but she might blame herself if you did. It would make for some...interesting discussion, I’m sure.
“Rosalyn does not need to know. It was not her fault. I chose to go. Their deaths fall solely upon my shoulders.” The voice cackled again.
Oh how you amuse me. Do tread carefully then, unless you would like for me to help. I’m certain I could only make the situation better for you.
The sarcasm was nearly palpable from the voice and Sylphrena shook her head. “That will not be necessary. Let us continue communion.” The Xaela’s eyes slid shut once again, but worry began to sprout in the back of her mind. She could tell Rosalyn, but if she did, would the woman blame herself? Would Rosalyn be angry at her for concealing this?
She quickly banished the thought, conjuring the memory of the yurt once again, letting herself play it out.
Do you hear the Angels Sing for you my baby? Men and kings have come to Bow to you.
- ”Hallelujah”
im 2k words into writing a ziam greys anatomy fic because everyone sucks and no ones written one yet
Inspired by this post.
Schanse the plushie krawk hates asking for assistance. The self-proclaimed ‘Pumpkin Queen’ feels embarrassed by needing help sometimes, but Rainbird isn’t one to judge or ask questions. Sometimes we all need a hand and a comfortable silence.
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warm up doodle of North smirking
TAELIA - What’s the best story your muse has ever heard?
"There was a story I heard when I was young, of how when the moon and sun were young, frolicking through the endless depths of space, until they came upon our world. The two were in love and decided to settle here. Watching us tiny beings, so far beneath them. They watched us, as we worshipped them, and gave offerings in hopes their light would shine on us. The moon loved the sun so much that during the day, to not steal love from his precious sun, she would hide behind her until night came. When night would fall, the sun would grow bored because most tiny beings slept in the quiet of the night. So the sun allowed the moon to shine her fullest. Her white lights streaking across dark skies, reaching for the lonely souls that lay awake in the dead of night. Soothing them, wrapping their body in her twinkling rays. These ones are mine. The moon told the sun, who laughed in her face. They are lonely and sad, just as you. Take them, for those who seek out my light are the strongest and happiest. The moon was hurt by such words of gloating, and further reclused behind the sun during the day. She regretted the pedestal she put the sun on, and she regretted how the sun now treated her. But she did not regret loving those who danced in her moonlight in the middle of the night. Watching them as nights passed, the moon eventually realized.. Her followers were true. True to themselves, true to others, true to nature. They cared not for what others thought, they cared not for the thorn of the roses they picked, and they cared not for blinding brightness of the sun. They cared for the simple peace of the night. They cared to hear the animals that only came out at night; the scratching of the raccoon, the scittering of bugs, and the songs of the night birds. In what they once called the loneliness, the moon found a new love to dote upon. The people who danced in the dark, and frolicked through the trees, unwavering in the face of total darkness. They were worthy of love for they did not seek the glory of the bright lights. They knew their glory, and they celebrated it quietly, in their own time, at night.. It was a story from my elder. He was essentially telling me not to seek out glory or fame, as it is often the biggest downfall for those in my line of work. Be humble and celebrate my victories quietly." Zee shrugged, "I don't know why but I just really liked it and it stuck with me."
I got all inspired to go back to my roots and draw something realistic.....and lets just say that the Griffin Mcleroy I wrought.....Is not quite postable. Twas a bust my dudes.