 |
Accueilpour nous soutenir! ;; vague assouplie chahute doucement le berceau liquide. sous l'expiration du zéphyr, rive s'étend et sourit par l'ombre de ses forêts. car depuis l'antre frais, les écumes se dégueulent sur sa lisière et font échouer candeur sur l'enfer. soudain au coucher, claquent ô voiles nébuleuses. les cieux couvent de mille pleurs ses enfants resquilleurs; les marins sont engloutis dans les tumultes sans âmes, celles vomies des abysses. tonnent les voix coléreuses, tapissant le ciel de l'emprunte jupitérienne. d'autres encore clament comme cabots, l'ire fantastique. rincés de lames, fraters se jettent ainsi aux voiles et guidons de bois, pour que vaisseau se retienne de piquer sa fin aux portes noires de leur au delà... origine v.1 btt; thème     Meora & Isis Isis Alighieri  the sky is the limit faceclaim & © : conor leslie ; homemade nature : Aucun don, aucune malédiction non plus. Humaine éphémère, à la peau tendre et fragile, sans griffes ni écailles, sans seconde vie après son trépas. saisons : Trente-cinq années qui s'essoufflent, trente-cinq années de perdues, sans que sa présence dans le monde ne le change d'aucune manière. myocarde : Libre, volatile, sans-attaches. Bisexuelle, polyamoureuse. besogne : Observe le ciel depuis si longtemps qu'il lui parle, enseignante de météorologie à l'académie. Peintre, à force de poser l'azur sur la toile, elle souhaite y tomber, aéronaute en herbe. errance : Citadelle des lumières, Lawfort; ou quelque part au-dessus. # Mer 3 Avr - 22:41  lettre à @Meora Sveinsdóttir 11 janvier Dearest Meora, We suffered such a severe storm! Barometer plunged as low as 920 hectopascals. Can you imagine? Last time I saw it this low, I was 1200 meter high. The seas rose. The academy was turned into an island for two days. Winds have weakened, but the sky is still overcast. One could expect the heavens to clear up, but although the morning is well advanced, it is still dark as night. I cannot make out the sun at all. I am writing under candlelight. My tools told me the storm came from the south. It surely passed Cover Island. Are you alright? Please write me as soon as you can. I cannot focus on anything I’m so worried. PS: As I send this letter, I am also writing to my parents, but you will probably hear from them faster than me. Can you tell me how they are? I have asked the same of them should you be unable to answer. I shudder at the thought. Please, be ok. Isis
Meora Sveinsdóttir  equinoxe faceclaim & © : s. boutella (ava by lux ; sign by vixen) (( moodboard )) tu entendras sa voix comme un cri au fond de toi. un jour tu verras, voix du vent tu comprendras nature : ondule vipérine sur murmures des ancêtres, glisse entre les quatre vents, hybride-léviathan : amoureuse des éléments, la terre pour onguent, le feu pour firmament et l’eau pour serment saisons : 37 stries dans le bois de liane qu'elle incarne myocarde : versatile, le coeur et le corps libre. fleur sauvage à l’extérieur, bête sauvage à l’intérieur. besogne : artiste-peintre, artisane qui plie le métal pour des bijoux et ornements, serveuse à l'auberge le terrier, un rien l'inspire, rien ne l'arrête errance : cover island + un peu lawfort # Jeu 4 Avr - 20:24 lettre à @Isis Alighieri january 18th My dear Isis, I'm really touched that you've taken the time to write to me, at a time when you must be swamped. The storm has been brutal here too. I was lucky (I’m okay), but a lot of people were injured and many (if not all) homes have to be partly rebuilt. And I'm not even talking about our ancient trees that have been knocked down... it's a gruesome sight. Solidarity is in place. But I can't help aching for the indelible scars left on nature and those who live in it. Who knows what will become of us as the winds of chaos have only begun to blow… Your parents are fine, but they're dealing with some material damage. I promise you, I'll look after them. Hearing from you is a blessing. You're one of those people who soothe, lighten and untangle, without knowing it, the little threads tangled up inside me. I was in the middle of a spiral but the spinning-top stopped thanks to your letter. You remind me that not everything is destined to happen, that science can also help predict. Thank you. What do your instruments tell you will happen next? What do you see in the sky that I can't see? Be careful and stay safe. Meora
_____________________ half of me has disappeared & i'm still dancing. what 'bout u? Isis Alighieri the sky is the limit faceclaim & © : conor leslie ; homemade nature : Aucun don, aucune malédiction non plus. Humaine éphémère, à la peau tendre et fragile, sans griffes ni écailles, sans seconde vie après son trépas. saisons : Trente-cinq années qui s'essoufflent, trente-cinq années de perdues, sans que sa présence dans le monde ne le change d'aucune manière. myocarde : Libre, volatile, sans-attaches. Bisexuelle, polyamoureuse. besogne : Observe le ciel depuis si longtemps qu'il lui parle, enseignante de météorologie à l'académie. Peintre, à force de poser l'azur sur la toile, elle souhaite y tomber, aéronaute en herbe. errance : Citadelle des lumières, Lawfort; ou quelque part au-dessus. # Dim 28 Avr - 12:42 lettre à @Meora Sveinsdóttir 30 janvier Dearest Meora, Your letter is one of the few sources of light in these dark days. I cannot make out this long-lasting, never-lifting cover of clouds. Where do they come from? Why won’t the wind blow them away? Why won’t the pressure lift them up? How I wish I knew what they are made of. But without an aircraft, I don’t see how. I’m drowned, choked in a fog of unanswered questions that your letter finally managed to somewhat lighten. I am relieved to know my parents are safe and sound. To know that you are too, my dear friend. I weep to imagine the high cathedral-like canopy of the Edler’s Silva on the ground. Dare I ask, what has become of our magnificent weeping willow? Any chestnuts in the grove still standing? And the helmet? What of the Dalgaard brothers and of their yard? How long do you think until everything can be built back up? I am sending you and everyone there my well wishes, for it is all I am able to send, I am afraid. I rue everyday the days the New Icarus and Deadalus fell in flames. With the seas so dangerous now, I am sure you too will see how useful they would have been. I feel that more than ever, I need to be up there. And at the same time, I have never felt so tethered to the ground. I don’t know what to do. Be well, my dear Meora. Write soon. Isis
Meora Sveinsdóttir equinoxe faceclaim & © : s. boutella (ava by lux ; sign by vixen) (( moodboard )) tu entendras sa voix comme un cri au fond de toi. un jour tu verras, voix du vent tu comprendras nature : ondule vipérine sur murmures des ancêtres, glisse entre les quatre vents, hybride-léviathan : amoureuse des éléments, la terre pour onguent, le feu pour firmament et l’eau pour serment saisons : 37 stries dans le bois de liane qu'elle incarne myocarde : versatile, le coeur et le corps libre. fleur sauvage à l’extérieur, bête sauvage à l’intérieur. besogne : artiste-peintre, artisane qui plie le métal pour des bijoux et ornements, serveuse à l'auberge le terrier, un rien l'inspire, rien ne l'arrête errance : cover island + un peu lawfort # Mer 8 Mai - 15:13 lettre à @Isis Alighieri february 15th My dear Isis, I can feel your mind whirling like never before. Be careful that the gears don't overheat and turn into a sick obsession. I'm worried. I don't know if this will reassure you, but nature is a changeable element, and things will change again when she decides. I hope that in some way my confidence in our elements can calm you. Unfortunately, the weeping willow was bent over by the force of the storm and the chestnut trees have scars that are hard to look at. The hamlet has suffered a great deal of damage, but reconstruction has already begun. When the seas are less dangerous, I think a good majority of people will have a roof over their heads again. At least, we're doing everything we can. As for the Dalgaård, they're very busy. I'll tell you about it in a future dream, so it'll be... simpler? There's so much to say, so many worries floating around... I'll tell you. It pains me to see you so trapped, but I'm sure you're already doing everything you can to help the situation. Your mind is unstoppable, I know that, but please take a break now and then. Take a deep breath, put your hands in the paint, dance for a while... Reconnect with your body to relieve that beautiful mind of yours, it will do it a world of good. Please take care of yourself, Meora
_____________________ half of me has disappeared & i'm still dancing. what 'bout u? | |||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|