s ᴇ ᴘ ᴛ ɪ ᴄ ʙ ɪ ᴛ ᴇ

[bornechaos-blog]

         @badhcart ✎ 

the mixed scent of perfumes hover around him, and he's again surrounded by busy chatters and exclaims coming from petite figures. a chuckle occasionally escapes him as a response, with arms naturally extended across shoulders and charm in the form of a smile across his lips. he only manages to catch a few giggles when his name is called, and inwardly frowns at the evident distraction disordering his thoughts. he’s unable to pinpoint the source, but an unsettling discomfort remains clogged at his chest. 

the vibration of his phone had interrupted one of the girl’s sentences, and he offers an apologetic smile for cutting her off before glancing at the unsaved number with slight perplexity. curious albeit hesitant, he answers. the voice that carries through is only more unrecognised, and the professionalism that coats her words only heightens the uneasiness that begins to swallow him. 

he doesn't remember how long the call lasted, or what she'd said. but it was seconds before he pushes past the girls, frees his arms from their grasps, and dashes towards the address that resonates like static reminders in his head. the wind conjures loud spells of irritation at his ears, but it's still not enough to drown out the anxiety boiling beneath his skin and within his lungs. his throat is arid dry when he barges through corridors and collides against numerous shoulders before his steps sharply halt before a private room, forcing the door open as it slams against the frame. he spares no consideration nor moments for him to catch his breath, but the other's relaxed figure and familiar features staring back at him had finally released tightened strings of distress hammered into his consciousness. still, relief pools in his blood but is not enough to console the anger spilling from his lips. 

         ❛ are you fucking dumb? do you really have to cause trouble every time? you’re not a fucking kid anymore! ❜

[lumierix]

☆ ┊  . . chaosmatics

   ❛ mhm, don’t worry about me ———   keep going.. ❜

     not going to lie, but, whatever sting was      rambling on about was so tedious. the      impulse to flutter her lids shut was off  the charts —  though, a plastic grin remained.

[bornechaos-blog]

     it was after seemingly prolonged periods  that he’d finally halted his zealous recounting.  his    expression blanked for several still seconds before    light complaints were jokingly directed towards the other. 

❛ ah— lucy-san!! you’re zoning out of my storytelling again … ❜

[lindorthedragonslayer]

[bornechaos-blog]

Sting Eucliffe as request by anon-san. { credits: xxxx }

[sawakool]

@chaosmatics.

fire tingled in her fingertips and toes, excitement rushing through her body. sawako can hardly stay still in her seat, but those heated hands push that eagerness into her thighs as to force herself to sit right. she’s never felt so.. thrilled. not at high school at least. she was hollow then, yet filled with joy. she was filled with happiness, yet stitched together with loneliness. someone, now, has taken those threads out and sewed her back together with hope. that person was sting.

sting was not here, though – not now anyways. sawako’s parents were here. virtually, but here nonetheless. their conversation started a long while ago, but they were just currently getting to the nitty-gritty. there were heart-filled laughs and rivers of tears, however, what they needed to talk about was her experience at this college. if any of the incidents that happened at her past school were to appear, then sawako’s mother and father would offer to take her back (she’d decline immediately, for she needed this education and also had someone to hang out with). she’d mention a new acquaintance of hers and previous things they’ve done together that created butterflies to flutter in her belly.

‘ en..! i’m having a really great time here. i hope things over there are going good as well! i’ll be sure to visit soon. ’lashes gently flutter whilst she leaned more toward the radiant screen, cheeks growing rosy and the smallest of grins permanent on her lips. sawako’s parents went on about how proud they were and what she’s missed while being at college. the warmth of her palms remained on her lap, head nodding to everything they said and taking mental note of it. she’s missed her parents, obviously, but her time here has been getting better by the second!

[bornechaos-blog]

the morning leaked through the slits of his fingertips when he lined palms up beside blazing hues of the sun, and it ignited a light layer of warmth that felt like security in forms of skin. the shadows cast across his features no longer reflect initial unfamiliarity and queer foreignness. his fingers are tangled through loose cords of earphones, and his steps adhered to the rhythmic patterns of the consistent melody pouring from earbuds. the campus remained a still frame of tranquility, only the breeze kissing wafts of blessings against yesterday’s frostbitten cheeks. sting found himself warm in the midst of a crisp winter morning.

his paces hastened as he approached the corridors, strides drawing far as he meandered through empty halls, eyes occupied by the engaging search of the figure he’d wished to catch the most. the quick glimpses had paralleled with scenes of earliest recollections at the campus, where mornings only offered perplexity that paired him alone with mild exasperation that he’d unleashed onto empty notepads in forms of reckless scrawls. he doesn’t forget how messily jotted irritation had eventually become sketched outlines of delicate features and ink black locks. he also doesn’t forget the close attention he’d paid when she spoke and the way his pages of notes had been drowned in light scribbles of her name. she’d brought a jumble of uneasiness and elation with her approach, and had easily reduced him to a skittish disarray of sheepish smiles.

a stifled chuckle slipped from him, and his mind brimmed with images of dark eyes, mellow voices and gentle character. he recalled her suggestion yesterday involving eagerness of a shared lunch and handmade delicacies; the rest of their conversation set to a blur because more than anything, he only remembered the sweet tint that dusted her cheeks as glints of anticipation had danced within her eyes. upon the thought, he halted his steps before an ajar door and peered past, with frame pressed against the walls. slight nervousness had only started to nibble at him gradually, perhaps he’d want to surprise her with his sudden visit, but had eliminated the idea upon second thought. with teeth clamped lightly to his bottom lip, he eventually dismissed his self reprimands and gathered his attention towards the other’s soft spoken words.

[bornechaos-blog]

winter falls hard in the kingdom of fiore. it’s not thunderous with miles of roaring warning for the approaching blizzards, but quiet, with hushed whispers and weightless footsteps that leave tales uncovered beneath blankets of white.

he remembers the searing burn behind eyelids when the white had reflected within sapphire hues.

for the first time, he saw the vices shrouded under naivety and the untainted doesn’t always personify purity.

hysteria is absent in this still night, and the air embracing his arm is dead, smells unfamiliar, and is nauseating. thirst suddenly claws at his throat, and makes it harder to breathe. the sea within his ribs stop tremoring. in the midst of lifeless streets, sting feels like a memory decaying in the deepest cavities of his mind. the thought is unsettling, and it tears the stitched smile off his lips.

his hands are more scar than skin, and the pads of his fingers are calloused by years of wielding magic. but now, they’re only cold.

his blood feels like mercury and he still doesn’t understand.

he knotted his soul to law and logic, and he had launched himself at father. the tears had scorched his skin, much like the bite of the snowflakes at his cheeks. the recalled emptiness drains him dry, and leaves strings of bitterness tied to his tongue.

the wreaths of lights adorning on the windows of the houses are still visible when he closes his eyes and the patterns of colours are clipped to the back of his eyelid. he looks away when it begins to blur.

he stills his wavering figure with numb palms pressing against walls when the familiar figure approaches. the other’s hands are warm, homely as they rest on his spine and arms. sting can almost feel the frost in his bones dissipate. he thinks that it’s not only the warmth that sinks within his veins. it’s tousled ink hair and crimson eyes and black robes and slender fingers and scarred skin. and it deluges him in ease.

he feels a foreign jutting at his ribs. something radiates from within the other’s tightened fist and sting thinks that he must have stared at snow for too long because his sight blurs and syllables are choked at his throat. 

❛ i have something for you. ❜

he only manages to read the other’s lips, because his mind has long congested with collaged recollections that punctured spears of grief through his skull. victory is never alone but always lonely and he can feel the remorse wrung from his organs. 

he tightens his palms around the scale pushed into his hand, and the sharp edges are digging open wounds along his joints. his lungs feel like a splitting scar and every inhale is drenched with toxin that cascades through deteriorating airways. the crying had made it hard to breathe, and he barely manages to whisper. 

❛ i’m sorry. ❜

[bornechaos-blog]

   My claws are sharpened

                                with my c r o w n.

[bornechaos-blog]

you're born through the storms of war  the raging sea is homed within your ribcage. when crescents bleed from your palms  destruction rises from the ashes that are your bones you don't fight the evil  and you wonder if heroism is only a disease  the corruption gritted between your teeth have made your nauseous  don't you realise that your kingdom only lives in fairytales?  your fingers are cold  and you're fumbling at the scorched edges of the pages  your veins have been bleached to chalk  and you grimace at the crimson of your garden's bed

they took away your wings but you sharpened your claws 

[areadersperspective-blog]

Words, I think, are such unpredictable creatutes. No gun, no sword, no army or king will ever be more powerful than a sentence. Swords may cut and kill, but words will stab and stay, burying themselves in our bones to become corpses we carry into the future, all the time digging and failing to rip their skeletons from our flesh.

Ignite Me (via areadersperspective)

[whatsleftofmypoetryblog]

And like the sea, I’m constantly changing from calm to hell.

Dallas Green (via v-pv)

[mysharona1987]

Maybe this world is another planet’s hell.

Aldous Huxley (via mysharona1987)