esotericas

A SILENCE OF THREE PARTS [PK] ((OOC: TRIGGER WARNING)) This post contains non-graphic suicide, suicidal ideation, and mentions of blood. If any of these topics could upset you, please click away. I - A Silence of Held Breaths Released A tired old man in the body of one much younger stands where home used to be. What was once home is now fields, farms, and a lonely winding road. The man is cold, his thin body chilled as the winter wind bites through his coat. His frozen feet lead him on paths now overgrown, paths where once he walked every day. This way to the tavern. Up the hill to his old home. Through here to the park. To the swing and the gardens and the tree. The sight of the tree hits him like a fist in his gut, and the man realizes this is where he must meet his inevitable end. Aruan Jay Ferinn is too many things. A sparrow, a shepherd. A father and a lover and a teller of stories and yet none of those things. He is a man who is everything but himself. Long ago, in another time entirely, Aruan wrote a note to a lover on this tree. The note remains there still, carved into the worn bark. Aruan’s chilled hands shake as he pulls out his knife, knowing this act will hurt him far more than his death will, although that moment too is fast approaching. - Once his love note is gone, Aruan allows himself to breathe again. His first mistake is finally gone, and the weight on his shoulders lifts the slightest bit. (The note was written to a woman who no longer saw him as anything other than himself.) He wonders what she could have been without him. He wonders if she knew, even then, how he was going to end. Aruan Jay Ferinn has always known. It has been an ever-present hum in the back of his head, whispered in his own voice and his mother’s and the voices of countless others. Aruan kneels in front of the tree, carving a new message below what used to be his love note and is now a mess of chipped bark. Here Lies A.J.F. A stranger to all. 1760 - 58 S.A. Aruan marks it with today’s date. He cleans the knife of tree bark with the cuff of his sleeve, and is comforted in the knowledge that someday this inscription will fade. After allowing himself the relief of one final breath, Aruan Jay Ferinn is finally, finally free. II - A Silence of Things Changing A hush falls over Elysium. It is the time of night and morning that is both things and also neither of them. A note sits on the kitchen table in the Ferinn home, placed where Aruan’s children will see it. The note is brief, with a stack of letters next to it. This is what it says. By the time this letter reaches you all, I will be dead. I hope that you, my children, will not hate me for this. But I understand that you might. I am sorry. I hope that I see you again one day, in a life beyond this one, but I hope that it is a long time before any of you leave this life. Aruan. Each letter is addressed to one of the Ferinn children. III - A Silence of Messages Received Aruan’s living doll August works tirelessly, delivering letters to those whom he has instructed it to. To Rosalind @Generi: To Adelina @LuxyLucy: To Arcelia @marslol: To Andora @Generi: To Eugeo @Suicidium: To Lotte @marslol: ((OOC NOTE)) Thank you all so, so much. I hope to never forget the memories I’ve made on Aruan, and I hope you all don’t forget me either. Aruan was my first ever persona, and he's stuck with me in ways I never realized a character could. I feel like there's something symbolic in the death of one's first character, especially one so emotionally significant to them, but I don't have the words, so I won't try. May the sun smile upon you, Wowsirs. IV - Epilogue

Agnieszka reads the missive with pride, although she reminds herself to teach Isabel some better spelling during their next lesson.

gorgeous gorgeous girls cover their sinful heads headscarves, kokoshniks, hijabs and more! all my lotc egirls out there know how terribly hard it is to find a nice head-covering for your lovely demure young ladies, and wowsirs is here to help! i have for you today a whole eight headcoverings of various cultures and levels of fanciness. enjoy! for all of you lovely haeseni ladies, i would advise you to only purchase kokoshniks fitting your rank, about which information is available in the most recent moda i ve kort publication, found here! i am not liable for any trouble you may get into for not following these rules ;) ((stole this part from shay so thank you for that <33)) bidding starts at $6 USD (or 90 mina) bids must increase by $1 (or 15 mina) and you must be able to pay for the bid when the auction closes (paypal or ingame) (ex. a 225 mina bid is equivalent to a $15 bid. you would need to bid $16 to outbid this) if a bid switches to or starts with irl currency, it cannot switch back to mina. don't edit your bid, just make a new comment if you are out-bid and tag the previous bidder no non-bid comments auction closes: saturday, january 8, 5pm EST bidding format skin: bid: discord: 1: mushroom scarf 2: sushi cosplay 3: fur hat 4: midnight blue 5: icy 6: silver kokoshnik 7: white lace 8: grass head

Adelaide reads the gossip with a hum, the paper worn from the long journey it took to reach her in Yong Ping. She can't help but raise a brow at the surprisingly... favorable? reaction to her 'death'. It's certainly a welcome surprise.

Adelaide watches as a nondescript brown bird enters through her window, bringing news from Haense, as it often did. As she reads the missive, her shoulders slump, and she rests her head in her hands, mumbling to herself. "Why did I throw this all away?"

New Endings, Old Beginnings The Nikirala Prikaz is quiet when Anya is finished setting her scene. It needs to look believable, at least somewhat so. A smear of blood on her pillow, drawn from her own palm. Her dagger on the nightstand, still dirty from slicing her hand. A few curly blonde hairs, just in case. And the note. Anya has never written a suicide note before, and she imagines it would be even more difficult if she was actually intending to kill herself. But she isn't. The note is simple, written on her personal stationery. It reads: ‘To whomever may find this first: I am dead. Do not mourn me, although I doubt many would anyways. The weight of my sins, known and not, has crushed my soul. The best thing I can do now is leave you all with the satisfaction of knowing I am gone. I hope I see none of you in the next life. Anya' Anya flicks a few drops of blood onto the paper for emphasis, and then bandages her bleeding hand. She sets the note on her pillow, next to the spotted blood. After taking a step back, she nods to herself. Good enough. It will last long enough for her to escape, at least. She's packed the most important of her belongings, and left the rest to be found by whoever enters her room first. After a moment of silent contemplation, Anya sits down to scribe a single letter. She sends it off with a wave to her bluebird, and then settles in at her vanity to complete her final task. Hair dyed and cut, Adelaide contemplates her reflection. It's strange, for certain, but she thinks the color suits her. With a final glance around at her room, she hefts her bag and slips out the door, protected from sight by the darkness above.

A MOTHER’S MADNESS Anya Ludovar and her twin sister Acadia as young children, enjoying the gardens of Elysium. 12th of Vzmey and Hyff 403 E.S. Anya Ludovar wakes up and the morning- noon- afternoon- sometime sun is bright bright bright through the window in the clinic and Anya’s babies (her babies, nobody else’s. Not him with his little frown and his you-don’t-love-me) are sleeping soundly against her chest. Her toes are cold because the blanket has slipped off of them and there’s a draft. Everything smells like sweat and vomit and sad. Very sad. Anya Ludovar’s cheeks are dry and feel funny when she moves her face and she’s worried she forgot to moisturize, but then she remembers she was crying yesterday after she had her two perfect beautiful babies. She puts her cold toes back under the blankets and thinks about why she was crying. Anya Ludovar (Not de Astrea anymore, she still has to remind herself. She wonders when it will feel natural) is feeling better. She tells herself that this is true and not made up as she sits in her bedroom in the Prikaz and wonders why she’s here. Here Haense here Karosgrad here the Prikaz here... not Elysium. Sometimes the weak winter sun hits the dying potted plants on her windowsill and she thinks about if she should go home. Home home. But it’s not home because even though her babies look just like her mother, papa won’t come out to see them. She knows he won’t. Anya Ludovar wonders if her papa is still alive. Anya Ludovar is not sure if she will like the answer. Anya Ludovar is not feeling better. Anya Ludovar is cold. Anya Ludovar remembers when she was pregnant and everyone was happy and excited and he thought he loved her, but he really loved his son inside her who was actually two perfect baby girls. Anya Ludovar’s perfect babies are asleep and they are as perfect as they have always been. But the babies made him sad and now he is not in love with her, but Anya is pretty sure he wasn’t in love with her anyways. Anya Ludovar wonders if she should try again. He thinks she does not love him (because he does not love her because they are just a transaction and Anya is just like everyone else, that’s what he told her) but maybe she will have his son this time and - Anya Ludovar wants to go home. suggested listening: :)

copycat smh

Anya Ludovar took the paper, reading through the descriptions of open court positions. "Do you think I have a chance at Mistress of the Robes? It would be quite the honor."

anyway i think there should be a downvote button just so u guys can downvote my angst

FORESIGHT OOC: HEAVY, HEAVY TW if mentions of/implied self harm or suicidal ideation make you uncomfortable, please do not open the rest of this post.

brrr!! it’s starting to get cold outside, and you know what that means! that’s right, spending money on things that you probably don’t need. i spent the last two days grinding out a truly horrifying number of winter / christmas-themed skins, which are now up for auction! enjoy :) ((i stole this part from shay so thank you for that <33)) bidding starts at $4 USD (or 60 mina) bids must increase by $1 (or 15 mina) and you must be able to pay for the bid when the auction closes (paypal or ingame) (ex. a 225 mina bid is equivalent to a $15 bid. you would need to bid $16 to outbid this) if a bid switches to or starts with irl currency, it cannot switch back to mina. don't edit your bid, just make a new comment if you are out-bid and tag the previous bidder no non-bid comments auction Closes: saturday, december 4, 5pm EST bidding format skin: bid: discord: FOR THE LASSES 1: modesty is key 2: warm furs 3: a cup of cocoa 4: red dream 5: cold arms FOR THE LADS 1: chocolate pianist 2: ruskan chad 3: santacore 4: green velvet 5: colonial cozy

Anya de Astrea sits in her bedroom, hard at work on the finishing touches of her wedding dress. She tries not to think too hard about anything, but anxiety about her future swirls unbidden in the pit of her stomach.

❀ A ROSE BLOSSOMS ❀ Her Ladyship Anya de Astrea, enjoying a stroll in the gardens of Karosgrad Goodness Gracious, Heavens Above, Is That Another Young Debutante? Indeed it is! The young Anya de Astrea wishes to welcome all who consider themselves friends or family--or those who wish to become such--to celebrate her coming-of-age in the Nikirala Prikaz. Praise Godan! What A Lovely Young Lady. The debut will follow Haeseni tradition, beginning with a whole ton of flowers! Don’t believe me? The Lady will be gifted a wreath of flowers, representing her virtues and the virtues she is to aspire towards throughout her life as an adult. (Mostly the latter - aim for the stars!) Enough, Enough. I’m Hungry. Never fear! After the Lady is decked out in her wreath of aspirational blossoms, there will be a feast! Those who attend only to fill their stomachs will be welcomed with nary a glare (well, maybe one or two, we of course can make no promises,) and a meal will be served for all. Oh No. Is That... A Speech? RUN. Just kidding! This will be a nice speech, promise. Lady Anya’s guardian, Ser Reinhardt Barclay will give a lovely talk about how great Lady Anya is, and then give a toast to our lovely debutante! Bored Yet? You’d Better Not Be! After eating (and hopefully a few minutes to let dinner settle) there will be dancing! What’s a party without dancing? Nothing, absolutely nothing. The dancing will begin with a dance between Lady Anya and her guardian, and afterwards all are invited to join the fun. Am I Invited? Yes! SIGNED, Her Ladyship Anya de Astrea [OOC] Saturday, November 20th, 5:00 PM EST The Nikirala Prikaz

Aruan Ferinn read Amicia's letter to his wife over her shoulder, his face slowly falling as he realized what it meant. He didn't cry, not yet, but he let out a soft, shaky sigh that spoke of future tears. "I'm going to miss her," He says to Emerald, and then stands up to return to his work. Anya de Astrea had barely noticed her mother's illness, her cheerful temperament and deep dislike of serious conversations leading her to easily believe the hushed stories of 'lots of work to do' and 'just needs to sleep.' When she returned home one evening to find her mother dead, Anya couldn't bear to even look at her body. It was something truly wrong, she thought. Mama laid out in bed like this, not drinking tea in the gardens or fixing people in the clinic. Not with her or Acadia or papa. At this thought - She will never see mama and papa together again, not with their sweet little whispers to eachother, not holding hands, - she did go up to her mother's body. Anya picked up Amicia's hand, her gaze falling on her blue dress. Anya and Acadia had always been a pair with their parents. Anya on Christopher's shoulders, Acadia walking next to them, hand clutched in Amicia's. Anya wondered why she had been the one Amicia put in blue. "I suppose there's no way of knowing now," Anya whispered to herself, and then broke into a bout of tears. She curled over Amicia, intending to give her one last hug, but instead just sunk down onto the floor, the edge of the blanket clutched in her hands.

smh i also made friskets skin get it right jav

Friedrich eyed the letter he'd received with a frown. After a moment of thought, he sat down to write a short response. It read as follows: Count Barclay - I have, in a private letter sent to Erwin Bishop, made clear my intentions to completely separate myself from the Bishop family, regardless of the circumstances. As such, I do not plan to attend your moot, although I hold you in the highest respect for choosing to make peace. Forgive the brevity of this letter, but I am running out of vocabulary words and still need to celebrate my fifteenth birthday before the day ends. Friedrich Henrysson

Friedrich read his sister's letter and rubbed his temple. He intended to have no part in whatever followed, but he could not help but be somewhat curious to see how things went.

Friedrich read his brother's letter, (could they even be considered brothers anymore?) and simply laughed. After Erwin's disrespect of their beloved father after his death - his poor treatment of their siblings as well, what sort of man would Friedrich be if he kept the family name?

Friedrich Bishop's hands tremble as he looks down at his father's letter. He reads it twice, three times, five, and then carefully folds it and places it in his pocket, a grim set to his face. He supposed it was a sign. Time to go. He looked around at his bedroom, cleaned of all his belongings, and slipped downstairs. Freddy locked the front door behind himself, ditching his key under the doormat. His meagre saved-up allowance jangled in his pockets, and he set off down the road, Norland-bound.

Aruan inspected both missives with a dispassionate gaze. He burned both, and set down to pen letters to both Daria and Rosalind, offering his two dear friends asylum and protection.

The young Friedrich Bishop stared for a long moment at his and his friend's flyer, before nodding. He adjusted his construction-paper crown, face stoic, and stood firmly at the gates of Fort Nuurlund, ready for whatever trials the new child monarchs would face. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.