we danced in the snow of the crystal december in the dying of our souls our bodies were the only answer – so we danced in the snow to the back of my deviant garden in comedy delight, immoral and divine
It is the most popular attraction that the afterlife has to offer. Millions & frolicking millions of heaven’s souls crowd its glistering gates, which open for exactly forty-five minutes on every full moon. If you’re lucky enough to catch it on an eclipse, you get to have a whole three hours there as a blessing from the gods. Every moment spent in The Garden of Earthly Delights is a moment that seemingly lasts an infinity. The spirits that are fortunate enough to enjoy its splendour, return blissful, with buoyant little sprigs of light gathering in their irises. It’s the chamber of eternal peace. Sometimes, when Hades comes to visit and hell spills over, the underworld’s best behaved are allowed a once in an afterlife’s chance to visit the garden for themselves. The only catch is that once you’ve visited the garden, you’re never able to visit again (due to high demand), the gods deemed it unfair for anyone to get to witness its glories twice when there are so many others who still haven’t been, when there are so many others losing what’s left of their souls to its immortal shrine, its uncanny splendor. Spirits thrash, become restless and drive themselves insane over it. If anyone is ever caught attempting to enter when the gates are closed or if they’ve already been guests before, they are immediately banished to Tartarus, left to rot forever amongst the darkest of monstrosities. The punishment is extreme, but the gods see it as fitting considering how hopelessly desperate some of the spirits are to get back once they’ve been let in. Growing greedy and insouciant, desperate for more. As if one go were not enough. The Garden of Earthly Delights is the only place in the afterlife that resembles earth. The only place anywhere that resembles it. Spirits who experience it feel, for a few generous moments, as if they are alive again. Life, or even the mere suggestion of it, becomes the most valuable experience for one that’s been dead. To only feel the sunlight against their skin again. To only hear the birds chirp. Some spirits watch the citizens of earth from up above and sit in still, uncaged wonder: how do they not see it? all the multitudinous beauty that surrounds them? how can they be satiated without feeding on its ragged charms? how do they sleep at night, in that crystal ball? how must they be so blind? Humans crave paradise, ignoring the vast, grizzly paradise that bore them, when all the dead crave is the earth.
Mista waggles his eyebrows at Giorno and tells him “if you were a flower you’d be a damndelion”
Giorno laughs and tells him “you know dandelions are weeds right?”
Mista whistles “damn. That makes sense though, because you’ve taken over the garden of my heart”
Giorno is so delighted he turns his mug into a bird that flies away as they begin cuddling at the breakfast table. Everyone groans and is disgusted by these shitty teenagers in love. Abbacchio looks down at his coffee mug and wonders if maybe he can drown if he gulps it all down fast enough.
This hasn’t been posted to my blog yet, but will be some day. I heard that Algy was in need of bees, so here is a photo of a bee taken today in California in my garden. Buzz buzz.
Algy was delighted to receive this lovely bee sent by his friend @biostatprof in sunny southern California -thank you so much :)))) Algy has never visited California, but he has a suspicion that life there is not quite the same as life on the wild west coast of the Scottish Highlands…
Algy loves bees, and spends happy hours watching them when the weather is warm enough for them to buzz about. But just now the temperature here is only a couple of degrees above freezing, and there is sleet and snow forecast for the next few days, so Algy has not yet seen a bee this year.
Algy sends you and all the Californian bees lots of very fluffy hugs xoxo
Seal of the Compass-Round…featured along side my essay The Verdant Palace: The Heart of Nature in Man…published in the current issue of Pillars Journal released via Anathema Publishing.
“I shall spread forth my umbral wings of spirit and soar willingly into the Void-Garden of Delights, wherein all that I am shall be spread across the vastness of the Cosmos to bloom again in untold forms.”
four days later and my succulent family has grown exponentially thanks to my gardening grandma who was delighted that i asked if i could have any of her baby succulents. she ended up giving me six with a bunch of leaves to propagate my own as well. she’s a nutter but in the best way possible.
today’s work was some more history notes on the russian revolution which i actually really find interesting! history is definitely one of my favourite subjects at school even though so many people find it boring. sidenote: i am still in love with my macbook. it’s my baby.
Any Sufficiently Advanced Magic is Indistinguishable from Technology - Sera/Dagna - M - 7605 words
Dagna explores Skyhold, and also Sera’s pants.
One of my two Wintersend offerings this year, for Luddleston - I got to think a lot about Dwarves and magical theory, and also about filthy jokes, which are some of my favourite things. A delight! @too-ticki was full of excellent ideas about this one, and her help was absolutely invaluable.
In the garden, the sun is warm. You wouldn’t know you were in the mountains, sitting here surrounded by the high walls, all the green living things. The drone of bees moving from flower to flower, thronging around the row of hives.
Sera has a bottle, and a cloth soaked in some mix that she’s being cagey about the exact nature of, and is applying the latter to the inside of the neck of the former. The lazy deep scent of blood lotus, and nectar sweetness. Something more. Something that lets it all pull together.
“Wouldn’t show this to just anyone, get it?” Sera says.
Sets the bottle down.
A lazy spiral of bees, drawn in towards it.
Both of them watch, Sera with eyes narrowed in consideration, Dagna with fascination, itching to fetch her instruments and examine the pull on the fade. Finally, Sera plucks the bottle up, stoppers it.
The cloud of bees left outside dissipates. A slow-motion explosion.
“It’ll keep for a while,” she says. “You happy?”
“What else do you do?”
Sera shrugs. “what do you mean?”
“Bottles. You put other things in them?”
“Ice,” Sera says. “Lightning’s good, I like lightning. Fire too, but sometimes it gets away. No good with no eyebrows, right?”
“Alchemy,” Dagna says, delighted. “You’re an alchemist. Let me watch you work some more.”
A flicker of suspicion. “Hang on,” Sera says, slowly. “I thought you only liked magic. That’s what everyone says.”
“Well,” Dagna says. “Alchemy kind of is magic. From the right angle.”