The Shepherdess, 1873, William-Adolphe Bouguereau

The Shepherdess, 1873, William-Adolphe Bouguereau

Medium: oil,canvas

https://www.wikiart.org/en/william-adolphe-bouguereau/the-shepherdess-1873

Srry, if I sent this in twice, but my internet kinda sucks so I dunno if it got through: Personal hc's for ⚡, ☔, 🔆, ♨, and ☆? (Again, love your askblog.)

(Thank you for re-sending! Tumblr definitely ate the first time. Asdfijhpidjhpg thank you.)

⚡:How does your muse feel about storms? Are they afraid of them, or do they calm them?

I love storms. I used to be surprised that loud noises and sudden flashes didn’t become terrifying to me. (People had ideas about the way she’d be nervous after. Things. She’s lived to see the literature improve a lot, at least.) Now, I’m just glad that I still enjoy them. Distant thunder is especially nice. (It’s the small noises that scare her. Rattles. Rustles. Things that prod her into action, casing her living space, until she can relax again.)

☂  : Does your muse like rain?

I’m not sure I mind it one way or another, honestly.

☼ : Does your muse like daytime or nighttime more?

Day. Day time. (It’s a quick answer, and terse.)

♨ : Does your muse have good table manners? How do they feel about bad table manners?

…I try. I really do. (She’ll never quite live up to her mother’s ideas of proper table manners, but does anyone? Really?) I suppose I mind it when someone chews with their mouth open or something.

☆ : Of the sun, stars, and the moon, which is your muse’s favorite?

I may not like being out at night, but I do think the stars are beautiful. They’re distant. Untouchable. I like them. (The idea that you could draw a parallel between her desire to be untouchable and distant, and the idea that really Michael already is those things figuratively speaking, is an idea that will get you punched in the jaw. She wants to be safe; not so separate from humanity that she’d harm people.)

"I was here and you found me. I was here and you were no longer empty; my twin soul if you were the one — at last, no more breath was wasted; one word, one smile, was enough."

— Chuck Akot, from Memoirs, "J'étais là et tu m'as trouvé"

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