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everharts
30 September 2013 @ 08:22 pm
 
 
everharts
09 January 2013 @ 10:35 pm
Hello, lovelies. It seems it has been a while since I've posted here (not since last year, heh). I guess I've been feeling very, very uninspired lately. Hopefully inspiration will surface sometime soon.
 
 
Current Music: fire in the water - feist
 
 
everharts
05 December 2012 @ 12:07 pm


WE ARE GHOSTS | and though your arms and legs are under / love will be the echo in your / ears when all is lost in plunder / my love will be there still.

01. violet - the chamber orchestra of london | 02. sea of glass - tom middleton | 03. ghosts - james vincent mcmorrow | 04. with or without you (cover) - scala & kolacny Brothers | 05. heart of stone - iko | 06. damaged - the chamber orchestra of london | 07. fire in the water - feist | 08. requiem on water - imperial mammoth | (bonus) year of our lord - sufjan stevens; osso

→ listen @ 8tracks | .rar on request

 
 
Current Music: damaged - the chamber orchestra of london
 
 
everharts
05 December 2012 @ 11:52 am
In her tower of glass and stone by the sea, Aeryn writes stories in dog-eared notebooks and on scraps of wayward paper, ink stained fingers a blurred flurry as she struggles to put into words the impossibilities her imagination possesses.
[...]


Beasts, with fire tipped feathers and teeth that become fangs, and witches who cast spells and snatch the breath from babies. Tales of those who steal time and those who travel through it; of Stormhunters who bottle and brew tempests and fly on dirigibles in the great expanse of blue sky.


But with not much else to compare them to, her characters inevitably turn into something akin to those she reads about - plucked from fairytales, perfectly imperfect with the happily ever afters they rightfully deserve. Princes who draw swords and slay the terrible beasties with a single swipe, and damsels in distress that make Aeryn grit her teeth and cross them out, with strokes so deep that the paper tears. But that’s how love is supposed to be, right? Adventures, being rescued and swooning over men you hardly know because they saved you.



When she looks at herself in the shard of glass that is her mirror, with her spill of ink-black hair and eyes that mimic the sea, she doesn’t see a damsel in distress. Instead, she focuses on the furrow at her brow, the stubborn purse of her lips and the freckled constellations scattered across her collarbones, shoulders and arms. And the marks, the ones that shift in form, swirling, pooling, colliding with each breath she takes. Sky-dark and snake-like, moving beneath her skin, shying away from her veins that shine brightly with stardust and Light. She is no damsel.



She is darkness and light all at once. Made of a sprinkling of stardust that makes her everlasting, with just enough enchantment - borne from the hearts of dark faeries - to keep her body young and fresh and undaunted by the memories that would crumble the flimsy façade she unknowingly wears. 



Before means nothing, there is only now. Locked away and hidden from more than one world, she is safe. But it is not - and never was - in her nature to settle. Echoes of her old self remain, remnants that surface and make her want to flee. To leap from the tower, whatever the cost, if only to know something, anything, other than the life she leads.


Because surely, surely, there is more to life than what she has. The stories she writes, beautiful and horrible all at once, seem more than just stories. There is something familiar about them that haunts her, and still she writes them, even if they do make her feel even more empty and utterly confined - in skin too tight, with sight too blurry, and voice a little too sing-song like - than she already does. 


She is a caged bird, futilely throwing itself against bars that have long since been magicked closed. If only she knew that the way of escape was staring her in the face all along; if only she would open her eyes and see. See that you are truly never too old for fairytales, and sometimes, sometimes, the stories - her stories - are true.

 
 
Current Music: ghosts - james vincent mcmorrow
 
 
everharts
30 November 2012 @ 12:11 am
Well, by the looks of things, I won’t be ‘winning’ NaNoWriMo this year. But really, it’s okay. I mean sure, I’m a little disappointed, but at the very least I know I tried. And I’m so grateful for everyone who encourages and has faith in me and my writing. It’s lovely to know that there are people so supportive out there. ♥

I suppose the thing is, I have this universe, this wonderful, planned universe full of impossible possibilities and these characters - some I know so very well, others less so but whom I still enjoy writing - and it’s amazing, but I just haven’t found the right story. What’s a girl to do with all the ideas in the world, and not a single plot that fits just so?

Plus, there's always next year, right? :3

— END REPORT —

Total word count:
32,000
Favourite quote: The entire prologue (which can be read either here or here). 

x-posted from my writing and inspiration tumblr.

 
 
Current Music: listening to: nada