Where Every Scroll is a New Adventure
Zima - Blog Posts
I think you're right that Vertin is 16.
Vertin should be around the same age as Sonetto, Mesmer Jr and Matilda as they all shared a class together (though either they have a larger range of ages within a class due to having few students or Matilda skipped a grade, which seems more likely)
I think Door is the same age as life on earth??? Or at least land? That's what his first story implies
Sputnik is at probably at least around 3 months old? She awakened at some point between Oct 1957 and Jan 1958 but IDK how long she's been in Laplace since then
The Fool is at least 250 years old, though they may be older - having been seen in the 1650s - assuming that all characters come from the 20th century.
Likewise La Source is at least 150 years old as that is when she first came to Paris (1850s)
【ALL REVERSE:1999 PLAYABLE CHARACTERS’S AGE】
(until v1.4 in CN)
✏️ Some notes:
- Lilya’s age in Global is “unknown,” but in CN server is 17. I am going with 17 because it makes sense for her to have an age. Most likely a translation mistake in GLB.
- Eternity’s age is said to be “more than a century,” so more than 100 years old, I’d say?
- A Knight’s age is said to be “exhibited in Medieval Times,” iirc so around that-amount-of-years-below-ago since 1999? Very uncertain, please correct me if I’m wrong.
- Soooooo I think Vertin is around 16-18?
Hey guys i like reverse 1999 now. I probably wont make these too often (i'm still learning about the characters) but here you go my little park pigeons
could you maybe write something with zima/зима :3? i loved your writings with neuvilette!!!!
“ Now... now I'm going out for a walk... The moonlight is... beautiful... It's good for writing... Maybe... you should try to write a poem too. ” — zima / gn reader
There’s a particular silence in the air in which you have yet to get accustomed to; but for Zima, it was his comfortably preferred state of existence.
He does not speak a word to you in the middle of this cold expanse, the top of his cheeks a snowy pink hue as the bottom half of his face is buried warm under the top of his coat. This old, stone bridge was icy, yet it was glimmering under the brilliant moonlight. A mere simplicity his eyes followed—from the cracks of stone to the sightless ocean, from the ocean to the cloudless sky, and from the sky to the lonely moon. A serenity that encompassed nature; also only a serenity that encompassed you.
You, who encompassed his blanking mind of ethereal solace no poet could ever portray.
Due to his nature of silence, though it does not register to him—perhaps it does not occur to you how lines and lines of the prettiest sentences form in his head just at the sight of you, nor the penmanship inking the inner folds of his sleeves. They were stained with all the words he can think of to describe you, and all the rhyming lines that rivaled you to the royalty and to the heavens. He was quite dramatic at heart… But you didn’t need to know that.
No, not when he can barely form words around you. Not when sometimes, he has too many words to say and he cannot speak a single one of them. Not when you cloud his thoughts with foreign phrases—so admirably, and so helplessly lovestruck in analogy—he can’t even begin to try and translate to English. And so he keeps his mouth shut under his coat, choosing a silence he knows so well.
He sees you stop at the top of the bridge from his peripherals, halting in his steps to join as you stare out into the moonlit ocean. You were just as cold as he was—he could see it in the crinkle of your eyes; but when your head leans to rest on his arm, there’s a beating of his heart that makes him feel warmer than a fire.
“Are you cold?” you ask, gently like the brushing waves below.
“…No.”
It’s so artful, painfully woven like ribbon around his eyes, like he’s blinded by your brilliance in rivalry to the moon. Any poet would kill for a muse like you.
Yet, he still can’t find the words.
Maybe one day, he’ll be able to ink something. Maybe one day, his pen will be able to form something as beautiful as you are. But for now, in this present moment ( from the moon, to the stars, to the ocean, and to the ever-gleaming ice framing perfectly around the Earth ), even all nature were utterly minuscule to the way he thought of you.
🕰️ ;; thankyew anon for liking all my neuvillette fics because i hope they are clear to show how absolutely deranged and delusional i am over him ( insanity )
My part in broken tablet challenge "Icy"! While drawing it, I was really hoping that I'll manage to reproduce the previous(?) art properly. I think I succeeded!
(The whole challenge is on Instagram @/art_slif)
😄✨️❄️
Моя участь у зламаному планшеті "Крижана"! Поки малювала його, дійсно сподівався, що мені пощастить правильно відтворити попередній(?) малюнок. Гадаю, вдалося!
(Повний челендж є в Інстаґрамі @/art_slif)
Зима.
У нас уже все покрылось снегом,
Идя по улице,
становится ничего не видно из-за небольшой приятной бури.
Когда ты приходишь домой,
завариваешь себе чашечку горячего кофе,
Включаешь джаз и наслаждаешься.
Я обожаю это время года (и не только потому-что у др)
Нравится сама зимняя атмосфера, ещё с далекого девства.
Это именно то прекрасное время, когда ты можешь идти по улице и поймать заряд энергии, вдохновения и покоя.
Вот уже не знаю как это получается, но фото становятся куда красивее.
Есть в этом во всем что-то магическое.
«Страх — это всего лишь эмоция, которая возникает из опыта. Но он не определяет вашу реальность.»
Цитата ИИ
⠀
Высоко в синеве проплывают киты, задевая космический невод.✨
Делюсь с вами чудесными фотографиями значимого для меня места. Фото сделаны на кнопочный телефон.
♦️ Flёur — Два облака
❅ winter vaunt ❅
i embody cold winter nights. my beauty is so intimidating yet intriguing it resembles that of a blizzard. i am the kind of person you see once on a stormy winter night and can’t stop thinking about for the rest of your life. my gaze is cold but enchanting just like frozen lakes in the middle of winter. i am just as unique and flawless as the snowflakes falling from the sky. my beauty is so refreshing and blissful that it reminds people of the first time they ever saw snow.
❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅
“У природы нет плохой погоды".
Самое лучшее время прогулок для меня это вечер,когда уже темнеет и загораются тёплые огоньки...
Когда это зимний тёмный вечер,ты скользишь по льду,среди смешанного гама музыки и разговоров людей или идёшь по дороге,слыша скрип снега под ногами,щеки щекочет мороз,а ресницы покрываются узорчатым инеем. А может это летний вечер: оранжеватые лучи заходящего солнца освещают путь миллионам маленьких букашек,а воздух такой лёгких и приносит с собой аромат цветов.
В любом случае погода хороша всегда..и в ливень,и в метель.Каждый человек должен знать как прекрасен этот мир,мы можем идти и любоваться на это природное чудо...
Если ваш город богат архитектурой,то это отличный повод для прогулки и её посещения.Так интересно иногда представлять,что происходило около этих сооружений 100 лет назад,если это ,например, дворец или царский сад.Как они были одеты?Чем они занимались?Все ответы,конечно, можно найти в гугле,но воображение ваш главный сыщик в этом деле. Изысканные разодетые дамы,запряженные кареты,офицерские разговоры,полные уважения и достоинства,кажется,люди никуда не спешат,сразу воображается спокойная и размеренная жизнь.Видимо,женщины в те времена ,даже,в зябкую и суровую погоду выглядели женственно и очаровательно,открытые декольте,никаких шарфов!Сейчас девушки на улицах-закутанные комки недовольства,держащие в руках стаканчик с горячим ароматным кофе,которые переминаясь с ноги на ногу,зависают в телефонах.
Ноооо зато уютные шарфы дают больше тепла,чем в другом веке комплимент от джентльмена)) Так что закутывайся и под любимую музыку,шагай на просторы улиц,заряжаясь свежестью нового дня;)
немношка севодня
Поздравляю всех с Наступающим!!! Снова родные пенаты, раз Вам понравилось!
Winter has covered my heart with snow
