《Hidden Scars》&《Hidden Love》
Commissioned artwork, artist: Yumi. Prohibition of use and unauthorized reproduction.
Reference X author:@KotteriArt
Hello! I was wondering if it’s not to much trouble, is the Zestmilla story Ride or Die been translated to English and if so where could I go about buying a copy? It looks really good!!! 😊
The story of RIDE or DIE is slowly being translated, including my other book Looking for Carmilla Carmine. Because I still have an important cross-border doujinshi novel and illustrated book on hand, they will probably be arranged together next year. This is a huge project, as there are too many words, please be patient and wait. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about this matter.
Reblogged
the image used as a placeholder previously on my profile picture here was done so without the right permission, and i apologize for that. if there are any further doubts, permission was granted by the artists whose art i do use for roleplay icons and the like
I have forgiven.I hope there won't be any in the future.
Until both hands are soaked in fresh blood.
Until the blackcurrant colored long hair turned as pale as death.
Until the distance from birth to death brings a curse called eternity.
How far do you have to go to become 'Carmilla Carmine'？
I asked the past.
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Private commissioned works are prohibited from use, commercial use, and unauthorized reproduction.
The obscure Zestmilla poem I created has been published on AO3, which imitates Shakespeare's sonnets. Because Zestial speaks Shakespearean English and, like actors in Shakespearean plays, has exaggerated movements and elegant language, I have created this continuously updated series of Zestial sonnets from Zestial's perspective.
Poetry's link：
At present, twelve poems have been updated, but of course, I intentionally saved ten poems and more Zestmilla poems that were not released. I will send it out at an appropriate time.
Just an idea. Because Latin was the lingua franca in the Middle Ages, and Carmilla may not speak English, I imagined the story of Zestial teaching Carmilla Shakespearean English earlier：
He expressed his admiration to me in fluent Latin, saying:
Dear Lady, Beautiful Lady, I have been given the great honor of explaining to you the charm of another language (Domina veneranda, Puella pulchra, Tantum honoris mihi contigit U T Tibi Aliam Linguam explicatione decorare possim.) .
I have no interest in his performances, nor in his theatrical gestures, nor in his literary speeches, as an Englishman, he was obviously of noble birth, or he would not have been able to speak Latin so fluently as a smooth-talking priest and officer.
He did not cower in the least from my cold reaction to his ostentatious manner, but simply opened his hands and conjured up a book with the eccentric magic that Catholics and paladins detest most. The title of the book is written in another language of another country in this time. There was a gleam of joy in his green eyes as he held the book, more than in the eyes of a civil servant about to enact a new tax code or a priest waiting for money to be put into a merit box.
He says: although you have heard me speak another language several times in our time together, allow me to introduce you to this elegant and elegant English.
It is no more ancient than the language of the Celts, nor more versatile than Latin, but I know that your curiosity and your thirst for knowledge are insatiable, so we're going to start with Hamlett.
“This book looks like a play. Are you sure we should really start learning a language from a play?”
In the face of my questions, he still kept a smile on his face. Ever since we met, he has never seemed to let go of his smile, like the Devil in a mask, but he has always managed to allay my concerns with a subtle expression.
He went on: Of course, dear Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall. Although every haughty old devil in Hell could speak fluent Latin, in time Shakespeare's language would cleanse the old gods like New Gods. It is precisely because you are acutely aware that we are all wise men who are going to tomorrow together, not the present, that I am going to open this book for you, Hamlett.
He took me by the hand and invited me out into the open terrace, just like the Prince in Hamlett who seeks truth, just like the ghost who constantly foretells the horrors of the world, indeed, he had a grimmer face than the average sinner, but I did not know for a moment whether he really lived in front of me after I felt the heat of his palm. But I said it anyway: “I will.”
By the scarlet glow of the night in Hell, we stepped out onto the moonless terrace into a state of almost total oblivion. He claimed to have lived in glory, but he was sent to hell just because he had given god another name. He claimed to have wandered in hell for years, like the ghost in Hamlett, night wandering this caused him to die in vain in the human world just to say that word to others.
“Listen to me.”
At this point, I always say, “I will.”
Every Castile aristocrat learns the language of God at the age of seven, but no Castile learns the word of the devil after death. But why should I be afraid of further disobeying god, when I have already fallen into the abyss of Eternal Damnation? So in the story of Hamlett, we sing with the words of Hamlett and the ghosts. He took me by the waist, and as we moved, he continued, over the notes on the piano and flamenco's guitar:
“My dear lady, my dear Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall, Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing! To what I shall unfold!”
His voice is deep, his voice is strong, his words are devilish, and we tread the marble slabs of the terrace by the crimson glow of the night, in the eye of the beholder, the Decadent Evil who seduced Hamlett. I was sure that I would be with him in hell for a long time, and that his early death was just waiting for me, so I said again:
“Speak; I am bound to hear.”