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le gouvernement
Palier 9
l'ordre écarlate
Palier 6

la confrérie
Palier 5
le cercle
Palier 7

les silences
Palier 4
ad maius bonum
Palier 3

les trinitaires
Palier 5
les veuves
Palier 5

les perles noires
Palier 5
les épines rouges
Palier 6

les oubliés
Palier 3
les rossignols
Palier 1

propagée par la Confrérie du Soleil: Il semblerait que les bavures militaires ne soient pas l'oeuvre d'argents (ou du moins pas uniquement). Sidonie Galathynius, pourtant une rouge, a été vue agressant la foule et usant de son autorité de commandante pour inciter les militaires à faire de même. Parmi les personnes touchées par la Galathynius: plusieurs argents mais également plusieurs rouges. Personne n'est plus à l'abri...
propagée par la Confrérie du Soleil: L'assaillant de Orion et Tonia Zarkari aurait été commandité par la famille Sielle. Des pièces frappées du tigre ont été retrouvées lorsqu'il a fait tomber une bourse durant sa fuite.
propagée par la population d'Aureus: Lyanna Burkhardt, la fille de Nerea Burkhardt (née Iskander) est morte durant les manifestations. Certains affirment avoir vu un homme portant une veste floquée d'un grand soleil dans le dos s'enfuir à l'endroit où le corps à été retrouvé.
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 do we simply stare at what’s horrible and forgive it (os)

 :: AKKADIA :: Hiokuri :: Feraniksi  
Saad Nara
NEUTRE— those who don't care —
AVATAR + © : ncentineo + bigbadwolf(ava) + bandit rouge (icons) + siren charms (sign)
POINTS : 578
do we simply stare at what’s horrible and forgive it (os) 7c6354ba22b99bd66ca4ca9913c1bdbb
AGE : ( 22 yo ) jeunesse inconsciente de ses faiblesses, aube d'une sagesse se dérobant à ses doigts, le gamin souffre les limitations de sa pensée et l'impuissance liée à ses traits juvéniles.
STATUT CIVIL : ( single ) épris de la pureté des sentiments, de ces passions dévorantes, mais aussi la douceur de ces étreintes pudiques. saad est de ces amants ne croyant pas aux limites de l'amour. fébrile rêveur aimant à aimer, il est en son coeur trop de place pour qu'il se conforme à la monogamie bien pensante de ses ainés.
those who don't care

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do we simply stare at what’s horrible and forgive it (os) Empty
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do we simply stare at what’s horrible and forgive it (os)  |  Jeu 29 Aoû 2019 - 22:05
Take the light inside you like a blessing, like a knee in the chest, holding onto it and not letting it go. Now let it go.
There was nothing to be said about a heart eating itself. The coldness with which it would swallow every tender bit of flesh left. The only thing that remained, ruins. Relics of life touched by fire, smouldered to dying embers. That dark spot where all the living used to be. There was a hole in his chest, the size of hand. A hole through which all he was leaked until nothing stayed but all he was sentenced to be. Nothing was sadder than seeing the light go out. The sun refusing to rise and in that endless breaking dawn knowing it never will. The sky was a wound wider than the sea. The heavens a door that no one could ever reach. Yet, humans were always looking skyward, hoping whatever was up there could save them. Saad was looking at that cold expanse of nothingness leading him to his purgatory, he didn’t see it. He couldn’t find what the horror and the terror and the trauma was all about. Before him only stood the cold valley of death where he would never feel warm again. Where was the sun? Where has it gone? Instead of blood dripping from the cut, frozen tears falling lazily were trickling from the skies. A sheet of white welcoming the train and its passengers in what was the coldest part of the country. As if the heavens could shed enough tears to wipe away all that was done in their name. Somewhere along the tracks, in one of the carriages there was a heart, closing. A heart that forgot itself. A heart that could not remember it was a heart anymore. A heart so sore the night sky was painted in the vault of his dreams. The owner a little more lost than it seemed. Poor bystander found laying in the way of the crime scene. Saad was a passenger in his own life, clawing his spine in the faint hope that wings could grow out of his back.
Eyes lost through the window, his thought were thousands of miles from his body. A thousand places where he was not meant to be. Blinking hazily, incapable of focusing, a shiver ripped his body, the cold seeping in his skin the farther they got from the capital. He missed the sun, missed his mother’s smile, missed his father’s words. He missed Kare and Fola more than anything. Yet, they were just a thought away, or two. He was missing himself too.Taking in shallow breaths, exhaling with forlorn grace, he thought his body was made of stones. Kept on thinking he was anchored in the poor stiches of his seat, every limb he had weighing a thousand pounds for fear he would disappear. Thoughts only called for more thoughts. Thinking ended up creating more thinking and all that thinking left him bruised. The side of his head thin from worry where the thoughts were trying to set themselves free. Fists clenched at his side, the beating machinery of his heart could not be stopped no matter what he thought. A burst of laughter erupted on his left, the soldiers playing cards on the floor obvious to the wreckage of a man drowning next to them. “Here, take this. It will be a lot warmer than the attire you were issued in Aureus.” The voice of the soldier was somehow warm, colourful in a world made of greys. The cloth in his hands seemed even warmer, fur poking out of holes made by time and tears. “Take it, it’s old and worn out, I won’t miss it.” Eyes turned upward like a sinner finding grace, he looked at the older man with a lack of understanding. Nodding slowly, the stranger gave him a smile, a younger one on his right bursting in joy as he won a round of whatever they were playing. As if dealing with a wild beast, scared of frightening him, he draped the garment over the urchin’s shoulders with a gentleness born of shared pain. Sitting in front of him, silence saying more than they could, they shared seconds in a matter of hours. The Nara lost himself in the waves of the fabric wrapped around him. It was heavy and warm, and so real. Oh so real.
You’ll get used to the cold. You’ll learn to like it. Maybe not like me and the other autochthons, but it’ll grow on you.” Founding the map of the stranger’s face, the boy got lost in the stories written there. The love, the loss, and all that came in between. Bitting his lower lip, Saad didn’t know what to answer. Maybe it would grow on him, maybe it would grow out of him. Maybe it would seep into his bones, settling in his marrow and blood before he’d forget what it felt like to be anything but that lifeless body of ice. The man started to fill the void, more and more. One word at a time at first, until it became sentences and the kid found himself enthralled in something else than the wound he became. Before long, the train stopped, the soldiers packed their scrawny belongings and formed a broken line with some sort of reverence. “Follow me kiddo, Feraniski is very different from the capital.” Jumping from the train, his feet finding a hollow sheet of snow, stood before him the unabashed sight of cold and distinguished beauty. The air was crisp, his lungs burning after what felt like aeons filled with the mephitic air of the capital. With care, Steiner bumped amiably Saad’s shoulder, making him follow down a path made of well-worn cobblestones and legends. Toward the sound of ruffle and loud voices, the barracks were a hive of concrete jails in the centre of which soldiers were placing bets on two of their own wrestling. “That will be a home for you. They don’t look like much, but those are some of the finest men and women you will ever meet. Be careful with the booze, though. The alcohol is a hell of a lot stronger than the water you used to drink in the south.” A smile crept on Saad’s face as he gave a look at Steiner and then the place. Concrete walls covered in snow, aching cold in his chest. However it all seemed so lively. Burst of colour coming from shawls and capes covering faces and shoulders. As if the life could not be kept inside. As if all he was used to was an unforgiving dream where loneliness stood in the soldiers' midst. The capital nothing more than smoke and mirrors like the creatures living in its dirty bowels.
If home wasn’t a person, maybe it could be a place.


- - i am singing now while Rome burns. we are all just trying to be holy.

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