la familia
Gracious, polite, but still a giddy girl in front of the crowd. Then: capable, firm, just, a ruler in front of the court.

songsofwolves:

Makhfi (the hidden one)  {A mostly instrumental mix inspired by the powerful mughal kings and their influential queens}  

LISTEN  ]

Aug 24   ·   284 notes

What remains once the war is won?

Fame.
Songs.
A kingdom of corpses.
His name too heavy in my mouth.

What do we become in death?

Shadows.
Longing.
Regret,
regret,
regret.

What do we keep once we are ghosts?

The blood under my fingernails.
His crooked teeth.
Searching for happiness in the threads of his hands.
A love that burned alive.
A love that is still bursting in my hollow chest.
A love that was never enough.

What do you do when you’re alone in the darkness?

Wait for him,
I’ll wait forever if I must.

Were you ever able to name one hero who was happy?

No.

— Emily Palermo, He Is Half My Soul (via starredsoul)
Aug 24   ·   657 notes

thymoss:

MY KINGDOM FOR A SOUL | W A R - T O R N    C I T Y

they wax endlessly poetic about her but make no mistake, the beauty is merely gilt, a sorry apology for the mutilations driven so deep as to crack new limbs through her body. you will ask her, hesitantly, if she will pose for a photograph; her hellsome beauty as startling as tarnished galaxies, as obscene as a lullaby sung underneath a storm of drones. 
she will crack her lips into a grotesque fascimille of a smile and posture gauchely, parading her long-lost innocence like a sacrilegious relic strung alongside her pearls of infant skulls. on slow news days you will see her sordid smirk in the corner of page 3, holding up her fine fingers so you can’t miss the death tolls whose numbers serve merely to meter the orchestras of battle.
you may try to ask her for her story, but she will struggle to shape words in the tongue that should be spoken. the delicate machinations of politics and power have long ago scraped truth from her teeth. “murder” has lost its meaning, instead her shoulders will slump in defeat as she reverts to “collateral damage” and “civilian casualty ratios” instead. she ends off with a flippant joke about “just war” and you know the conversation is over.
hell? the gods have long ago abandoned her to the flames of a fury that consume her lifetimes over, whose heat lulls her into the comforting destruction of sleep; to be awoken with the resurrection of a horizon lit with bomb blasts.
the obscenity of violence has faded to the mundanity of a scream-speckled drumbeat; it accompanies her footsteps and the swing of her blood-drenched braids. her spine has been twisted out of and back into place by the grasp of politicking which lob grenades of jagged lies back and forth, her skin is lined with rope burns from the tug of war of propaganda they have torn her apart with. her skin has been mapped and re-mapped several generations over with fault lines of empires and armies determined to colonise her into fragments of flesh. 
often she is forgotten. often she is reduced. at the end of it all she sits herself primly amongst the ashes of the remains of her soul and dabs the rouge from the ground on her cheeks, streaks of life animated and grotesque against her dead eyes. the narratives of history have rewritten her already; flooded her screams with rivers of ink. her alienation from humanity is comforting, at times: she would prefer to forget that all of this was possible only because of mankind itself.

thymoss:

MY KINGDOM FOR A SOUL | W A R - T O R N    C I T Y

they wax endlessly poetic about her but make no mistake, the beauty is merely gilt, a sorry apology for the mutilations driven so deep as to crack new limbs through her body. you will ask her, hesitantly, if she will pose for a photograph; her hellsome beauty as startling as tarnished galaxies, as obscene as a lullaby sung underneath a storm of drones. 

she will crack her lips into a grotesque fascimille of a smile and posture gauchely, parading her long-lost innocence like a sacrilegious relic strung alongside her pearls of infant skulls. on slow news days you will see her sordid smirk in the corner of page 3, holding up her fine fingers so you can’t miss the death tolls whose numbers serve merely to meter the orchestras of battle.

you may try to ask her for her story, but she will struggle to shape words in the tongue that should be spoken. the delicate machinations of politics and power have long ago scraped truth from her teeth. “murder” has lost its meaning, instead her shoulders will slump in defeat as she reverts to “collateral damage” and “civilian casualty ratios” instead. she ends off with a flippant joke about “just war” and you know the conversation is over.

hell? the gods have long ago abandoned her to the flames of a fury that consume her lifetimes over, whose heat lulls her into the comforting destruction of sleep; to be awoken with the resurrection of a horizon lit with bomb blasts.

the obscenity of violence has faded to the mundanity of a scream-speckled drumbeat; it accompanies her footsteps and the swing of her blood-drenched braids. her spine has been twisted out of and back into place by the grasp of politicking which lob grenades of jagged lies back and forth, her skin is lined with rope burns from the tug of war of propaganda they have torn her apart with. her skin has been mapped and re-mapped several generations over with fault lines of empires and armies determined to colonise her into fragments of flesh. 

often she is forgotten. often she is reduced. at the end of it all she sits herself primly amongst the ashes of the remains of her soul and dabs the rouge from the ground on her cheeks, streaks of life animated and grotesque against her dead eyes. the narratives of history have rewritten her already; flooded her screams with rivers of ink. her alienation from humanity is comforting, at times: she would prefer to forget that all of this was possible only because of mankind itself.

Aug 23   ·   372 notes

Designer: Anita Dongre

Aug 19   ·   1,911 notes

FAIR  |  ( listen )

"beware your face, your limbs, your walk; gods see these as invitations.”  -  Jeannine Hall Gailey

For maidens with skin like milk and eyes like cinder, for the beauty whose broken bones inspire tyranny in men and brings empires to their end.

Aug 18   ·   497 notes

louveteaus:

tell sad stories of the death of kings | a fanmix for crumbling dynasties (listen)

01. procession - alexandre desplat | 02. the grey estates - wolf parade | 03. landscape (demo) - florence + the machine | 04. thirteen - the antlers | 05. strength and honour - hans zimmer | 06. blindsided - bon iver | 07. a rush of blood to the head (radioactive remix) - coldplay | 08. finish it - clint mansell

louveteaus:

tell sad stories of the death of kings | a fanmix for crumbling dynasties (listen)

01. procession - alexandre desplat | 02. the grey estates - wolf parade | 03. landscape (demo) - florence + the machine | 04. thirteen - the antlers | 05. strength and honour - hans zimmer | 06. blindsided - bon iver | 07. a rush of blood to the head (radioactive remix) - coldplay | 08. finish it - clint mansell

Aug 18   ·   1,609 notes

penthesileas:

THE ARTIFICE OF ETERNITY / music for the byzantine empire (requested by hesperos)

01. The Might of Rome - Hans Zimmer and Lisa Gerrard02. Anon.: Ti aidonia tis Anatolis - Ensemble Constantinople03. Armada - Mediaeval Baebes 04. Trad.: Dinaresade - Ensemble Ony Wytars05. Kassia: O synapostatis tyrannos (The Apostate Tyrant) - VocaMe06. My Own Heart - Trevor Morris07. All together, the Angels in the Sky - The Byzantine Choir of Greece08. Rise a Knight - Harry Gregson-Williams09. Manuel Chrysaphes: Lament for the Fall of Constantinople - Cappella Romana10. Instrumental Lament II - Jordi Savall


LISTEN or KEEP

penthesileas:

THE ARTIFICE OF ETERNITY / music for the byzantine empire (requested by hesperos)

01. The Might of Rome - Hans Zimmer and Lisa Gerrard
02. Anon.: Ti aidonia tis Anatolis - Ensemble Constantinople
03. Armada - Mediaeval Baebes 
04. Trad.: Dinaresade - Ensemble Ony Wytars
05. Kassia: O synapostatis tyrannos (The Apostate Tyrant) - VocaMe
06. My Own Heart - Trevor Morris
07. All together, the Angels in the Sky - The Byzantine Choir of Greece
08. Rise a Knight - Harry Gregson-Williams
09. Manuel Chrysaphes: Lament for the Fall of Constantinople - Cappella Romana
10. Instrumental Lament II - Jordi Savall

LISTEN or KEEP

Jul 20   ·   719 notes

mythology meme:  [2/9] deities

↳ Brėkšta

Brėkšta (also spelled Brekszta or Breksta) is a goddess of dusk and dreams who keeps watch over the world from sundown to sunrise. It’s been suggested that she might be an aspect of Vakarinė, the Evening Star.


mythology meme:  [4/9] deities

↳ Amaterasu-ōmikami

Amaterasu-ōmikami (天照大神) is a goddess of the sun. Along with her brothers Susanowa the storm god and Tsuki-yomi the moon god, she is tasked with the governing of the Universe; her responsibility is to bring light to the world and thus ensure rice fields’ fertility. It is said that the Japanese imperial family are descendants of Amaterasu. 

Jul 19   ·   1,288 notes

mythology meme:  [8/9] deities

↳ Lakshmi

Lakshmi (लक्ष्मी) is a goddess of love and prosperity, and the embodiment of beauty, grace, and charm. She is the wife of Vishnu and is usually depicted sitting or standing on a fully bloomed lotus, holding a lotus flower in one of her four hands as a symbol of beauty, purity, and fertility. She is believed to bring good luck to all who worship her.


jump