10-05-2018, 12:37 AM
<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Parisienne|Source+Sans+Pro' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'> <style type="text/css"> .glassheart_container { position: relative; z-index: 1; width: 500px; border: solid 1px #000; background-color: #140606; border-radius: 200px 200px 0 0; box-shadow: 0px 0px 10px 1px #000; } .glassheart_grad-bg { z-index: 2; position: absolute; top: 550px; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 200px; background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(20, 6, 6, 0) 0%, rgba(20, 6, 6, 0.75) 51%, rgba(20, 6, 6, 1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(20, 6, 6, 0) 0%, rgba(20, 6, 6, 0.75) 51%, rgba(20, 6, 6, 1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(20, 6, 6, 0) 0%, rgba(20, 6, 6, 0.75) 51%, rgba(20, 6, 6, 1) 100%); filter: progid
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient(startColorstr='#00140606', endColorstr='#140606', GradientType=0); } .glassheart_image { position: relative; z-index: 1; width: 500px; border-radius: 200px 200px 0 0; } .glassheart_text { position: relative; z-index: 3; width: 490px; background-color: #c9ccce; margin-top: -200px; border-top: solid 10px #556671; border-left: solid 1px #556671; border-right: solid 1px #556671; } .glassheart_container p { margin: 0; } .glassheart_message { text-align: justify; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; padding: 30px; color: #333535; } .glassheart_quote { text-align: center; font: 11px 'Source Sans Pro', sans-serif; text-transform: uppercase; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-top: 2px; padding-left: 35px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: #556671; } .glassheart_name { font: 60px 'Parisienne', cursive; color: #556671; width: 55%; line-height: 0.4em; border-bottom: dotted 1px; } </style> <center> <div class="glassheart_container"> <img class="glassheart_image" src="https://i.postimg.cc/63wZwjyX/Glassheart.jpg"> <div class="glassheart_grad-bg"></div> <div class="glassheart_text"> <p class="glassheart_message">
(A river. A mermaid. A hazel.)
(A bloodied shoreline. A sunset. A beacon.)
A dream, she’s decided - and one that’s strange, and feverish.
She must still be sleeping soundly among the wildflowers with the cool, clear spring air around her - because it can’t be real. The fog can’t be real, her legs can’t be real, and the voice (the voice!) she must have conjured out of the farthest depths of her imagine; crafted it from syllables spoken by all the voices she’s ever heard before. Because all of her memories have been realized in flesh, and it can’t be.
“Never mind all that mess before, now’s the part that I adore! Set your traps and gather your b-bait, lure me out and make it great.”
And she hears it stumble then, the voice, and she thinks it's because she’s on to the facade - is tearing it apart by its very seams. Glass doesn’t know she wants to find him, only that the desire fills everything left of her that is genuine.
Perhaps another mystery.
Perhaps another shot at importance.
(A river. A mermaid. A hazel.)
(A bloodied shoreline. A sunset. A beacon.)
“But mind the shadows and beware the dark. My children are eager to make their mark.”
There are dangers, she knows. Deeper in the fog she hears the rattle and clash of teeth on teeth; them. ‘Monsters,’ she thinks. Loveliar would have told her to run. Loveliar would have screamed at her to run. But her mother wasn’t here, and against her better judgement she chooses to play along (to burn), to stumble through this fever dream with everything she can. So Glass finally rises from the river, and she turns to face the meadow again. She will lure him in with a story, one that is as beautiful as it is awful.
(A river. A mermaid. A hazel.)
(A bloodied shoreline. A sunset. A beacon.)
From the ground sprout orange pumpkins from invisible seeds. She eyes them warily as she wanders through the fog, and as she nears each one finds a jagged smile carved ruthlessly through the flesh of them. It makes the hair on the back of her neck stand, but she has nothing to fear.
This is a dream after all.
When she is in the centre of the meadow with the wildflowers all around her, she plucks a handful of pearls from her crown and lays out a trail that leads back towards the river’s edge. The trail circles the hazel tree, and ends with an ‘X’. She marked the ‘X’ where she remembered Spyndle dying the first time, where Cordis found her bleeding out, but brought her back.
(A river. A mermaid. A hazel.)
(A bloodied shoreline. A sunset. A beacon.)
And then she walks into the river.
The water is colder than she’s ever been before, but Glass doesn’t consider going back; she wades into the water, until her thighs, her waist, her shoulders are all submerged. She swims to its middle, where an island built up of stones is waiting and in its centre another hazel tree. What comes next is not a natural choice for her, but its the only one she wants to make in the fever dream. She sings. And while she sings her appearance changes, her skin shifts from pink to silver to gold, from alive to dead. It flickers between them because as long as she is singing she is Glassheart, and Spyndle, and Cordis - altogether.
She sings about rivers, and mermaids, and hazels.
She sings about bloodied shorelines, and sunsets, and beacons.
She sings about worlds, and vivisections, and skin that burns like magma when someone you love touches it.
She sings about them.
Cordis and Spyndle.
Because theirs is the most compelling story she’s ever known.
</p> <p class="glassheart_name">Glassheart</p> <p class="glassheart_quote">i'll always love you the most </p> </div> </div> </center>
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient(startColorstr='#00140606', endColorstr='#140606', GradientType=0); } .glassheart_image { position: relative; z-index: 1; width: 500px; border-radius: 200px 200px 0 0; } .glassheart_text { position: relative; z-index: 3; width: 490px; background-color: #c9ccce; margin-top: -200px; border-top: solid 10px #556671; border-left: solid 1px #556671; border-right: solid 1px #556671; } .glassheart_container p { margin: 0; } .glassheart_message { text-align: justify; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; padding: 30px; color: #333535; } .glassheart_quote { text-align: center; font: 11px 'Source Sans Pro', sans-serif; text-transform: uppercase; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-top: 2px; padding-left: 35px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: #556671; } .glassheart_name { font: 60px 'Parisienne', cursive; color: #556671; width: 55%; line-height: 0.4em; border-bottom: dotted 1px; } </style> <center> <div class="glassheart_container"> <img class="glassheart_image" src="https://i.postimg.cc/63wZwjyX/Glassheart.jpg"> <div class="glassheart_grad-bg"></div> <div class="glassheart_text"> <p class="glassheart_message"> (A river. A mermaid. A hazel.)
(A bloodied shoreline. A sunset. A beacon.)
A dream, she’s decided - and one that’s strange, and feverish.
She must still be sleeping soundly among the wildflowers with the cool, clear spring air around her - because it can’t be real. The fog can’t be real, her legs can’t be real, and the voice (the voice!) she must have conjured out of the farthest depths of her imagine; crafted it from syllables spoken by all the voices she’s ever heard before. Because all of her memories have been realized in flesh, and it can’t be.
“Never mind all that mess before, now’s the part that I adore! Set your traps and gather your b-bait, lure me out and make it great.”
And she hears it stumble then, the voice, and she thinks it's because she’s on to the facade - is tearing it apart by its very seams. Glass doesn’t know she wants to find him, only that the desire fills everything left of her that is genuine.
Perhaps another mystery.
Perhaps another shot at importance.
(A river. A mermaid. A hazel.)
(A bloodied shoreline. A sunset. A beacon.)
“But mind the shadows and beware the dark. My children are eager to make their mark.”
There are dangers, she knows. Deeper in the fog she hears the rattle and clash of teeth on teeth; them. ‘Monsters,’ she thinks. Loveliar would have told her to run. Loveliar would have screamed at her to run. But her mother wasn’t here, and against her better judgement she chooses to play along (to burn), to stumble through this fever dream with everything she can. So Glass finally rises from the river, and she turns to face the meadow again. She will lure him in with a story, one that is as beautiful as it is awful.
(A river. A mermaid. A hazel.)
(A bloodied shoreline. A sunset. A beacon.)
From the ground sprout orange pumpkins from invisible seeds. She eyes them warily as she wanders through the fog, and as she nears each one finds a jagged smile carved ruthlessly through the flesh of them. It makes the hair on the back of her neck stand, but she has nothing to fear.
This is a dream after all.
When she is in the centre of the meadow with the wildflowers all around her, she plucks a handful of pearls from her crown and lays out a trail that leads back towards the river’s edge. The trail circles the hazel tree, and ends with an ‘X’. She marked the ‘X’ where she remembered Spyndle dying the first time, where Cordis found her bleeding out, but brought her back.
(A river. A mermaid. A hazel.)
(A bloodied shoreline. A sunset. A beacon.)
And then she walks into the river.
The water is colder than she’s ever been before, but Glass doesn’t consider going back; she wades into the water, until her thighs, her waist, her shoulders are all submerged. She swims to its middle, where an island built up of stones is waiting and in its centre another hazel tree. What comes next is not a natural choice for her, but its the only one she wants to make in the fever dream. She sings. And while she sings her appearance changes, her skin shifts from pink to silver to gold, from alive to dead. It flickers between them because as long as she is singing she is Glassheart, and Spyndle, and Cordis - altogether.
She sings about rivers, and mermaids, and hazels.
She sings about bloodied shorelines, and sunsets, and beacons.
She sings about worlds, and vivisections, and skin that burns like magma when someone you love touches it.
She sings about them.
Cordis and Spyndle.
Because theirs is the most compelling story she’s ever known.
</p> <p class="glassheart_name">Glassheart</p> <p class="glassheart_quote">i'll always love you the most </p> </div> </div> </center>