Black, grey, silver, white, blue.
Light through a fogged over glass window. Light when there should be none.
Crunching of snow beneath your feet.
Not being able to feel your nose.
Frozen eyelashes, hair, eyes, bones. Everything is covered in ice that never melts.
Eerie silence for hours after dark.
Mysterious lights flowing like serpents in the sky above you, if you listen close enough, you can almost hear them.
The mournful sound of cracking ice.
Blizzards kicking up out of nowhere, snow that looks like diamonds and feels like pins.
The quiet creaking of old floorboards.
Hatchlings joking about waving to the inmates when you pass the fortress. As you age you realize that they can see you, and enjoy the courtesy.
Distant shadows marring the pure white of the snow.
Watching an approaching storm coming from miles away.
Not getting inside fast enough, the storm catches up, shouting and kicking at the door to get back inside.
Everyone's face is hidden behind goggles or pulled up coats. Thank yourself that they don't ever take them off.
Cutting wind that feels like knives and carries the sound of distant wolves.
Black, grey, silver, white, blue.
Light through a fogged over glass window. Light when there should be none.
Crunching of snow beneath your feet.
Not being able to feel your nose.
Frozen eyelashes, hair, eyes, bones. Everything is covered in ice that never melts.
Eerie silence for hours after dark.
Mysterious lights flowing like serpents in the sky above you, if you listen close enough, you can almost hear them.
The mournful sound of cracking ice.
Blizzards kicking up out of nowhere, snow that looks like diamonds and feels like pins.
The quiet creaking of old floorboards.
Hatchlings joking about waving to the inmates when you pass the fortress. As you age you realize that they can see you, and enjoy the courtesy.
Distant shadows marring the pure white of the snow.
Watching an approaching storm coming from miles away.
Not getting inside fast enough, the storm catches up, shouting and kicking at the door to get back inside.
Everyone's face is hidden behind goggles or pulled up coats. Thank yourself that they don't ever take them off.
Cutting wind that feels like knives and carries the sound of distant wolves.
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Were you expecting a modicum of rust?
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Laughter. Music all around you, inside you. Flight, freedom, friendship. Noise all around, chatter, laughter, singing, the whistle of the wind in the bamboo. Joy. Wings rustling, heart beating. A moment of silence as you hang in the sky, above the entire world. The sense of being able to go anywhere, do anything. No boundaries, anything is possible.
This is the Wind I love.
Laughter. Music all around you, inside you. Flight, freedom, friendship. Noise all around, chatter, laughter, singing, the whistle of the wind in the bamboo. Joy. Wings rustling, heart beating. A moment of silence as you hang in the sky, above the entire world. The sense of being able to go anywhere, do anything. No boundaries, anything is possible.
This is the Wind I love.
i see all of these very thought out and detailed aesthetics and i say:
it's cold
i see all of these very thought out and detailed aesthetics and i say:
it's cold
Lightning aesthetic: Technology, blue, coffee, and S C I E N C E
Lightning aesthetic: Technology, blue, coffee, and S C I E N C E
Black, storm gray, electric blue, teal, cyan. A jagged bright stripe against the darkness.
Trekking through the desert, along the canyon, across the mesas. Wandering among shrubbery and cacti, among the bones of those who could not survive on them. The only good water is high above your head, in the form of a looming presence, protected by a deadly force. The smell of rain, the feeling of the hot, humid air. The electricity in the sudden gust of wind that raises the hair on the back of your neck.
Lightning, electricity, power. Great machines beneath the earth, thrumming below your feet. Hidden entrances to massive lairs of science and technology. Sleek metallic devices and dragons. Cybernetic enhancements to improve efficiency. Experiments, testing, production. Creatures creating, fixing, helping. Working. The silent (and not so silent) agreement that teamwork is essential.
Flying, freedom, speed, danger. Riding the edge of the storm, braving the core of it. Knowing that your life is in your claws, in these clouds, in the electricity that courses through you both. Every strike of lightning is reflected both in your cyan eyes and your soul. Your heart beats strongly to the powerful crashing and rumbling of the thunder that follows. The fury, rage, strength in your wings, the spontaneity of the storm and of your spirit. The undying courage and fearlessness. The unstoppable, driving force of unified willpower.
Lightning Flight.
Black, storm gray, electric blue, teal, cyan. A jagged bright stripe against the darkness.
Trekking through the desert, along the canyon, across the mesas. Wandering among shrubbery and cacti, among the bones of those who could not survive on them. The only good water is high above your head, in the form of a looming presence, protected by a deadly force. The smell of rain, the feeling of the hot, humid air. The electricity in the sudden gust of wind that raises the hair on the back of your neck.
Lightning, electricity, power. Great machines beneath the earth, thrumming below your feet. Hidden entrances to massive lairs of science and technology. Sleek metallic devices and dragons. Cybernetic enhancements to improve efficiency. Experiments, testing, production. Creatures creating, fixing, helping. Working. The silent (and not so silent) agreement that teamwork is essential.
Flying, freedom, speed, danger. Riding the edge of the storm, braving the core of it. Knowing that your life is in your claws, in these clouds, in the electricity that courses through you both. Every strike of lightning is reflected both in your cyan eyes and your soul. Your heart beats strongly to the powerful crashing and rumbling of the thunder that follows. The fury, rage, strength in your wings, the spontaneity of the storm and of your spirit. The undying courage and fearlessness. The unstoppable, driving force of unified willpower.
Lightning Flight.
pleasing green everywhere ppure wallpaper fuel
pleasing green everywhere ppure wallpaper fuel
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For light, I get the image of a peaceful morning with soft sunlight going through translucent white curtains brightening the room. Sipping coffee, sitting down on a soft sofa and reading a good book. And classical music playing in the bg.
For light, I get the image of a peaceful morning with soft sunlight going through translucent white curtains brightening the room. Sipping coffee, sitting down on a soft sofa and reading a good book. And classical music playing in the bg.
There's the soft blue glow of mushrooms, the buzz of crickets dancing by moonlight and tiny sparks of fireflies joining them in. Dragons walking by moonlit ponds and watching the moon through the gaps in the canopy above.
And then there is the dark forest that one fears, where sight is so limited. The wind that whips through trees howls and causes shudders, each gust feeling like a touch.
There's the soft blue glow of mushrooms, the buzz of crickets dancing by moonlight and tiny sparks of fireflies joining them in. Dragons walking by moonlit ponds and watching the moon through the gaps in the canopy above.
And then there is the dark forest that one fears, where sight is so limited. The wind that whips through trees howls and causes shudders, each gust feeling like a touch.
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S O K O L
knowledge of comprehension, benevolence, and aesthetics | active | slowly revamping
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Legacy. You are the heir of a great legacy of artisans, researchers, and philosophers. They have come and gone from this earth, yet their works remain: great monuments of marble and sandstone now overgrown with vines, shelves upon shelves of written word left and unread in the dark, and countless tools and artifacts of craftsmen who toil no more. Their legacy, all fading into dust.
Alone in their complete preservation are the trees, proud sentinels overlooking the verdant hills and valleys, and the ocean whose waves toil upon the ancient cliffs.
From failing hands they throw to you, the torch. Remember their legacy, preserve it, and contribute to it yourself. Do not let the light fade.
Legacy. You are the heir of a great legacy of artisans, researchers, and philosophers. They have come and gone from this earth, yet their works remain: great monuments of marble and sandstone now overgrown with vines, shelves upon shelves of written word left and unread in the dark, and countless tools and artifacts of craftsmen who toil no more. Their legacy, all fading into dust.
Alone in their complete preservation are the trees, proud sentinels overlooking the verdant hills and valleys, and the ocean whose waves toil upon the ancient cliffs.
From failing hands they throw to you, the torch. Remember their legacy, preserve it, and contribute to it yourself. Do not let the light fade.
As you're venturing through the frostbitten tundra of the Southern Icefield, admiring the iced conifers, you turn your head merely to get slammed in the forehead by an unidentifiable blunt object, covered in icicles and hoarfrost, and you're knocked out cold. (Pun completely intended. I mean, that's a part of Ice's aesthetic.)
An eternity later, you're woken up by your body slammed onto a wall and the heavy crack of a prison door. As your eyes, nearly frosted closed, open, you can see a forked tail through the bars. "HEY!" you shouted. "HEY! DID YOU HEAR ME, YOU LITTLE-" "And what do you want, prisoner?" a voice answered you, dripping with bitterness. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?! DID YOU REALLY JUST ASK ME SUCH A CLEAR QUESTION?! I'M WONDERING, HMM, WHAT I EVER DID TO YOU?!" "I never asked for this. I'm just doing my job." And at that, you dissolve into hopeless tears. The realization of the chains on your arms, legs, and wings break your already frozen heart. But the (now visible) Spiral has a flicker of warmth in her eyes. A glimmer of sympathy. "I want to help you." she utters in a vaguely audible whisper. In a shocking display of speed, she snags a key from whatever was to the right of you (from the inside of the cell, it wasn't visible). She jammed the key in the lock, and says in a serious tone, "Fly. We need to be COMPLETELY INVISIBLE. If the Warden knew I was helping you, I would be sentenced to execution." And as you ran away, away from the horror that was the prison of the Icewarden, you felt that maybe there was a bit of hope in this hell.
As you're venturing through the frostbitten tundra of the Southern Icefield, admiring the iced conifers, you turn your head merely to get slammed in the forehead by an unidentifiable blunt object, covered in icicles and hoarfrost, and you're knocked out cold. (Pun completely intended. I mean, that's a part of Ice's aesthetic.)
An eternity later, you're woken up by your body slammed onto a wall and the heavy crack of a prison door. As your eyes, nearly frosted closed, open, you can see a forked tail through the bars. "HEY!" you shouted. "HEY! DID YOU HEAR ME, YOU LITTLE-" "And what do you want, prisoner?" a voice answered you, dripping with bitterness. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?! DID YOU REALLY JUST ASK ME SUCH A CLEAR QUESTION?! I'M WONDERING, HMM, WHAT I EVER DID TO YOU?!" "I never asked for this. I'm just doing my job." And at that, you dissolve into hopeless tears. The realization of the chains on your arms, legs, and wings break your already frozen heart. But the (now visible) Spiral has a flicker of warmth in her eyes. A glimmer of sympathy. "I want to help you." she utters in a vaguely audible whisper. In a shocking display of speed, she snags a key from whatever was to the right of you (from the inside of the cell, it wasn't visible). She jammed the key in the lock, and says in a serious tone, "Fly. We need to be COMPLETELY INVISIBLE. If the Warden knew I was helping you, I would be sentenced to execution." And as you ran away, away from the horror that was the prison of the Icewarden, you felt that maybe there was a bit of hope in this hell.
