WISF ARCHIVE

WISF ARCHIVE

Best of: tree themed matches! Credits & more at tagged/tree

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'vascular studies ii: lung' brooch by julia barello, 1996 in corporal identity body language: 9th triennial for form + content, usa + germany - museum of arts + design (2004)

The knotted branches of a ‘Spider’s Web’ tree (or a strangler fig) in a park in Nanning, Guangxi, China

dolasach watches rafayel closely, the worry in her eyes a stark contrast to the mischief in his. ordinarily, his laughter would coax a smile out of her; but right now, it only serves to cause confusion to mixed with concern as he brings himself ever closer.

“your… motive?”

instinctively, she holds onto his shoulders even tighter as he pins her down on the couch. here, there was nothing to look at but him, even more so as he makes her meet his gaze. despite the intimacy of their position and the tenderness with which he handles her, a deep dread settles in her gut as the dots begin to connect.

she could almost see the words form themselves in rafayel’s mind as she stares into his sunset eyes. they were words that only served to send a chill deep into her bones;

to hear them spoken out loud renders her heart frozen, breath caught as her eyes widen and search his for any hint that he was kidding. for a hint of mirth that came before he’d reveal that it was all to mess with her, to see how she’d react.

but this was about his people now, about vengeance. and that was something she knew rafayel never took lightly. not when he’s lost his people to the cruelty of humans who cared only for the advancements of their own kind; cared only for power, for influence, for wealth gained with little care for those who they siphoned blood and harvested scales from, maimed and tortured for the sake of ‘science.’

all the more that in sent her on the verge of spiraling.

“no, i… my parents? to your people?” her voice is quiet; she’d shout if she could, but hushed tones were all she could muster as he beginnings of this revelation stiffened her tongue and lips.

her eyes were pleading for him to just tell her the whole truth as vague, distorted memories of her time in with her parents began to surface.

“there’s—… how? rafayel, what have they done?”

❦ 𝐵𝑖𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝐵𝑎𝑠ℎ

a closed starter | @vibinsane

the marker of yet another year of existence passing; dolasach's birthday draws near. it looms around the corner, the date a week from now.

she doesn't think it to be a celebration.

each day closer to the day brings forth old memories, unearths feelings buried beneath six feet of repeated retrospection. how annoying, she thinks, to be so bogged down by something so... asinine.

she quietly takes a deep breath and smooths out the crease between her brows.

relax.

this isn't the sort of headspace she should be in if she's going to be hanging around mo art studio. the last thing she wanted was for her boyfriend to catch her in her melancholy.

(even though by now, deep down, she knows he's noticed the shift in her demeanor for the last few days)

it's sunny today. the sun blesses them with its warmth and the clouds are gorgeous. the surrounding sea meets and parts with the shore of whitesand bay over and over, the resulting waves providing calming white noise that filled the silence.

it would've been nice if her mind mirrored the mood outside.

her eyes drift towards rafayel. his back is turned to her, something that can't be helped as he works on yet another painting too large to be mounted on an easel. it works to dolasach's favor; if he wants to look at her, he'll have to turn around.

she'll see it if he does.

and it'll give her the chance to put on a happier face.

she thinks it's a simple plan, but as she falls back into her thoughts while watching rafayel paint, her troubles make themselves known on her features.

Ama Codjoe, from Bluest Nude: Poems; “Bluest Nude”

[Text ID: “I crave. I want to be seen clearly or not at all.”]

Huang Yong Ping: 'Serpent d’océan' (2012) 130 meter aluminum sea serpent skeleton sculpture