stardust

Adelita Flores swan maiden & vetenarian “Believe in Your Heart. Believe in your heart that you're meant to live a life full of passion, purpose, magic and miracles.” ― Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart

[fairygcdmother]

codecerberus:

Normally, the boy is prone to being shrouded by distrust. By judging at first glance out of pure, blinding trust on his own instincts. But for once, he’s the naive one, believing Volkov to be a welcoming figure who serves as a contrast from Metzger. Maybe it’s out of desperation to believe that there’s something - someone - better out there. Maybe he’s not as smart as he thinks

Either way, Carter still sits around the fire with the rest, abandoned; legs pulled to his chest and jacket hood pulled over his head. He hears Adelita’s musings, though, if even muffled by the wind’s howls. “More good, I’d think. It’s the first time we’re not being watched over, or performing.” For Metzger, for audiences. “I’d choose being lost over being trapped.” A shrug and a pause, before he looks her way. “What’re you thinking?”

Not expecting her words to be picked up upon, Adelita eyes Carter with surprise, a neutral expression as she hears them out. Trust, from their lips, is an unexpected thing. She wonders whether he’s genuinely hopeful, or just tired of not being so. “If you’re lost, then you’re still trapped. Just in a different way.” Cages aren’t necessary to be a bound creatures. Freedom can be denied in more way than one. “We don’t have a choice about staying here.” She adds, looking out onto the wilderness, shadowy in the dead of night. “If we leave, we’ll die.” If that isn’t trapped, she doesn’t know what is. Shifting her gaze to study Volkov, Adelita watches him for a few moments, trying to puzzle him out. If only she was a mind reader. “People tend to gravitate towards others like themselves, that’s all.” A match made between Metzger and Volkov had to be worthy of suspicion, didn’t it?

[fairygcdmother]

anoracle:

And she hears her, as if through water, as if through snow - are they in the same room, are they in the same world, connected only through glass and for once, it’s Adelita that can only see through it, while Emme sees only its dirt and smudges until the world is a flickering thing, until wide eyes are looking at nothing at all. Until there’s only heartbeats. 

So, it takes time to nod, still not looking to the woman, trying to pull herself into focus, hearing Adelita’s tone, hearing softness, knowing she’s waiting on her. “You can do this, or mostly this, without touching me? Please, don’t touch me,” half still in a fire, in snow. “It’s only skin,” like a reassurance. 

She thinks she hears it, how a smile can be in a voice, and Emme tries to be present, “Who’s going to look after you then? If you were in there too.” And she doesn’t know how much she wants silence, if she wants to be alone with thoughts and the snow, even if Adelita is in front of her, without noticing her presence, it’s like she’s not there at all in the way Emme’s mind is now. While shivering, but not because of the cold, she tries to bring back smiles. 

“Did you? Save anyone, I mean, and the better question, did you do it as a swan? It sounds like a story.” There’s pauses between the words, between sentences, longer than she intends, quieter than she thinks them to be.

Her eyes read Emme. They scan the crisscross patchwork of external wounds. They try to stare deeper, past the flesh, into her soul. There’s a deeper hurt there, she can tell - and tonight, it manifests. Some trauma’s of the mind weigh heavier than the body. Slowly, Adelita nods. “I’ll touch you as little as possible. You have my word.” Hand on heart, her vow is a solemn one. 

Cautiously, she moves towards Emme, extending the stethoscope so that her actions are visible to her patient. “We’ll get the worst of it out of the way first.” Emme is no bird by genetics, but by nature, Adelita thinks she may have a little of the creature inside of her. A bird with its wings clipped. One with the potential to soar. “Can you sit up as straight as you can? I’ll press the end of the stethoscope against your chest - I have to listen to you breathe.” This is the practice of science, but Emme won’t let her leave a touch of magic behind.

“I don’t need looking after.” The concerns are easy to brush away. “If I did, I would reach out to Mal.” She is no self-sacrificing fool. Adelita has always intended to live. Nearly rolling her eyes at the memory, she nods as she puts the ends in her ears. A story, perhaps, to soothe. “Yes. Raafe actually.” She shakes her head at the memory. “And unfortunately not, as badass as that sounds. I don’t think yelling at them to get out would translate so well in honking.” Holding up the end of the instrument, she prepared to listen. “But hey, if you want, when I’ve done this - I’ll tell you a real story while we get you cleaned up.”

[flawlessbeautyqueens]

I don’t relate to her [Margo] necessarily – we are two extremely different women – but she has courage and takes risks and I like to think of myself as someone who has taken risks in life. Not always, but on the stuff that matters like pursuing my passions.

[fairygcdmother]

whiterxbbits:

if this is a death, it is a slow one.

(one that, unfortunately, boy knows will take more than forty days)

shivering in the corner and with half a mind to etch tallies on wood - again, for old memory’s sake, for lost sanity’s sake - he is close, nail to wall when a familiar voice calls for her. heads snap up to the sound, wide eyes searching the white to find the warm smile that seems out of place here, but needed all the same.

he stumbles to her, feet clumsy in the snow, outline of breath in the air when he tries to match her smile, falling short and having it shake.

“f-fight?” he asks, voice tripping over the word. he’s known enough - seen enough, felt enough to know that the word is hardly anything good, but with adelita and that smile - he trusts her with it, even if his stomach turns. “n-no, i don’t, i - i try to… stay out of fights, usually.”

and almost quieter, curious of the word only because it’s her, only because he knows that there is more healing than hurt -

“what is it?”

What is it? Broken boys from broken homes have broken childhoods. Such has been the way since the dawn of time. Logically, she knows this. But she’s never been quite able to steel her heart when it comes to their stories, their losses, the gaps in who they should be. Every cut hurts. The worst part is, Adelita knows her empathetic pain is a temporary one. She knows she can put it aside with relative ease. They cannot.

“I have a feeling you’ll like this one.”

Because who couldn’t? Snowball fights are one of many childhood rituals. They are excitement first thing in the morning and daring defiance last thing at night. They are petty playground grudges. They follow kisses in the snow and snowmen you name after your family pet. (Sidenote: she’ll teach Theo to make one of them later). They are the blissful innocence of a time that came before. Or for some, never came at all.

Ball pressed between gloved hands, Adelita grins as the throws it forward, ensuring there’s no real strength to it. It lands centrally on his chest. Backing away, she kneels to the ground, already pushing together snow to make another.

“Now you throw one back!”

[fairygcdmother]

wolfiber:

Might be lost, indeed. It took only a few minutes of walking, Adelita’s constant chatter about the trees, the rocks, the snow, and Laurel had regretted letting that thread within her get dragged into the wilderness. She is not made for forests and winter storms, she is made for glowing cities and glass. But she had given in, yet again, to that incessant curiosity that seemed to drag her everywhere, so when Adelita fell silent and they simply watched the sun climb faster and faster over the mountains, she felt in some small way grateful. At least there was someone else here.

“I think you might be right,” Laurel replies, rewrapping her cashmere scarf tighter around her neck. Bright red dusted with snowmelt. She stops walking, holding still to try and regain bearings, or at the very least keep them from getting more lost. Darkness came fast during the winter, and if they did not find their way back soon, they would find themselves in severe trouble. 

But now there is something more pressing. They had only brought a little food, not intending to go far, and Laurel is already feeling the pain of hunger. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” She holds her hands closer under her (not faux) fur coat, and tries to hide a shiver. “What’s the plan?”

A chill that sunk into her bones told Adelita what she already knew - that she was not a creature made for such winter torments. The Swan Maiden was a bird made for the delicacies of life, the gentle stillness of a lake, the warmth of the sun as it streams through trees that reach the sky. They were born to settle, not to roam. But Adelita had been no Odette, chained and bound by the light of day. The human part inside of her longed to explore life for all it could offer, wilderness and all. If that impulse could have been muted, then she never would have been standing here, the cold whisper of death creeping up on her.

But she had never been one to give into what appeared to be inevitability either.

If the ice was determined to smother her, she would break free.

Decisively, she decided to take charge of the situation. Laurel had, after all, asked her what they were going to do about it. Hesitating for only a moment, Adelita cast her eyes upwards, where snow was beginning to once again fall, the sky a dull grey. “I’m going to fly upwards - and see if anything looks distinctive.” If they could see the camp, it couldn’t be far? Could it?

Taking to the skies, her wings batted against the howling winds, struggling to stay in control. The world around was a bleary one - all snow swept skies and grey. Not wanting to stay for longer than she needed to, she flew back down. Once transformed, she shook her head. “I can’t see anything. There’s nothing that tells us where we need to go.” But...an idea struck. Cautiously, not wanting to set Laurel off, Adeltia met her eyes. “Do you think...do you think you could maybe sniff it out?” Wolves, after all, were built for wildernesses such as these.

[fairygcdmother]

DATE &TIME: february 14th, 6.00pm LOCATION: starlight carnival STATUS: closed for @raafes

The air is thick, clouded with smoke and ash. The two extremes of blazing heat and freezing cold mix uncertainly, as if it the earth itself is uncertain of which one it is supposed to be. Every instinct inside of the creature you are urges you to flee. The human part of you overrides it - shouting stay. Another voice, belonging to you and you alone, says go further. It draws you towards the flames - and the individuals still trapped there. You’ve never been a hero, but today you will be.

As you see you’re not the only one, a smile grows on your face.

Coat discarded, cloth tied to your face, you dart in and out between the fragile structure, praying it will not rain fire down on you. Just a little longer, you whisper, a little longer. Give me time to get them out alive. Your companion turns left, so you go right. For a while, you think you might be alone - but then you hear the characteristic banging, the movement of a human trapped. Steeling yourself, you push forward, telling yourself that being doused in hell is only temporary. You reach the place where the door would have once stood - and peer inside.

Raafe. 

Of all the people in all the places, this isn’t a scenario you envisioned. 

“Raafe?” Your voice is barely audible above the roaring inferno. “Come on - we have to get out of here!” You stretch out your arm, encouraging them to grab hold of you. You’ve never been one to try to save them, but today you will be.

[fairygcdmother]

knxwsbest:

DATE&TIME: february 14th, 7:00am LOCATION: starlight carnival STATUS: closed for @fairygcdmother

“beautiful, is it not?” she says softly, hands gentle in caressing the stringy hair of the girl before her - a thin 20-something wisp with more gaunts and hollows than body, blank eyes unseeing as they look past them. hands caress cheeks warmly, turns jaws to the side lightly before tilting chins to look back at her again.

and a light press of fingers upon skin causes the girl to startle, woman ever-calm in her hold, looking at her as if expectant. as if knowing, watching as the foreign thing slowly shift from human husk to the thin bones of a bird now perched on her forearm. the way she praises the cryptid before her is that of a pet, as if trained.

“gorgeous.” she breathes, watching as frail wings flap listlessly before resting on her completely, tired eyes of a thing made from the gods now resting, exhumed of the storms it might have once held. “our little phoenix is beautiful, but this thunderbird has a radiance of its own right, does it not?”

(its malnourished, half-dying frame, still sickly beautiful to the woman. docility, she thinks, with this kind of frailty is an acquired appreciation)

“a thing of the gods, once upon a time.” she muses, eyes still on the bird. “how shameful it has become now. what has dear ilya done to you, do you think?”

Adelita isn’t quite sure how she and Soledad keep ending up falling into each other’s company in the queerest of circumstances. It certainly isn’t a deliberate attempt. Although she’d never deny the begrudging respect earned after Shanghai, there is so much that repulses Adelita about Soledad. Case in point: the way her hands reach out to touch the hair of a broken soul, how the girl jumps out of her own skin, how Soledad croons over the girls cryptid form. It’s all together...uncomfortable. Then again, Adelita has never been one to relish in the fragility of a soul. She simply seeks to make them stronger. 

So instead of meeting Sol’s eyes - and allowing the condemnation to flow through (pursuit of answers, is of itself, a noble thing today) - she focuses her attention on the bird perched on her shoulder, the girl who holds answers she may not know she possesses. Ilya is not a man Adelita feels compelled to immediately trust, such is his reputation, such is the hauntings that take place on his doorstep. And, well, there isn’t much else to do around here.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Inspiration striking, Adelita shakes herself, transforming into a bird herself - a lustrous swan, bright where the other bird is dim, strong where they are frail. Slowly, she coaxes the bird towards her - and they meet midair, beaks rubbing each other’s feathers. They cannot speak, but they don’t need to. Some expressions are non-verbal in nature. After a moment, Adelita transforms back, bird to maiden. A few seconds later, the girl does too - a little more colour in her cheeks. She looks between the two women. “We’re not here to hurt you. We’re safe - good people. You can talk to us. About Ilya.”

[fairygcdmother]

llenore:

DATE & TIME: February 14th, 2:30 P.M. LOCATION: Starlight Carnival STATUS: Closed for @fairygcdmother

Careful, Lenny. Naughty little birds get sent to the Carnival. Do you want to be forgotten, same as the rest of them? Forgotten. The fear Lenore felt upon arriving at the Carnival—brought up by memories of Metzger’s threats, half-hissed as she hid behind her father’s legs—dissolves quickly when she sees them. 

Cryptids, wearing the weight of time like heavy cloaks. Trapped. Her heart drops, sorrow at the base of her throat, in her still bruised knuckles. 

There’s one person she knows would help, someone she trusts with it. Lenore finds Adelita by the entrance of the Starlight Carnival; the sign so worn away the name is barely legible. She comes to stand beside the woman, offers her a small smile before saying, “We have to help them.” 

Call it naive optimism, or call it the aching in her chest, the need for something good out of all of this sadness. 

“There has to be something we can do for them, even if it’s small.”

She stands by the long-faded sign of Starlight Carnival, etched across in both English and Russian. A sign of its global prominence and magnitude - and its simultaneous commitment to remain true to its roots. Even in its ruin, it has returned to the place where it began, cryptids running to the only home they have ever known. 

Closing her eyes, she can almost imagine how beautiful it must have looked back in its heyday. She imagines Russian aristocrats in heavy jewels and heavier dresses, dark-haired men with vodka on their lips, peering inside. Adelita shakes her head. She’s been reading too much of War and Peace. This country hasn’t looked like that in nigh over a hundred years.

Shaken away from her indulgent fantasies by Lenny’s arrival, Adelita immediately snaps to attention - eyes doing their best to peel the girl before them. Today, as she so often does, she leads by her heart - the purest of intents. And despite the cold, it warms Adelita’s heart to see it so. And to think, Lenny thought herself such a haunted, wretched creature in Shanghai. 

“You’re right.” Adelita couldn’t have told you what. They have nothing to offer but tenderness and stories of their own - but she isn’t even sure if they all speak the same language. That won’t stop them all the same. “Sometimes, if you don’t have anything material to offer, just being there can be a blessing. Never underestimate the power of shared experiences.”

But maybe there was a tangible way they could make a change - cleaning the carriages, teaching them English...something. 

[fairygcdmother]

anoracle:

DATE & TIME: February 14TH, 10:00PM LOCATION: Starlight Carnival TAG: @fairygcdmother

She shouldn’t have waited this long to see someone, she knows, but bones still shake no matter what, but eyes barely find anything to focus on, but chests beat rapid. And it’s not Adelita’s fault that Emme’s avoided her, not the fire’s fault either, not the pink and burning skin, not the ash and smoke caught in lungs. Ash and soot still coat cheeks, still being blinked away, and while eyes no longer look like they’re drowning, skin no longer feels as if waiting to fold in on itself, she still trembles. “What are you going to do?” A soft voice, trying to stop herself from snatching her hand away from the woman, knowing the sinking feeling of her gut for even thinking of it. (Somewhere there’s a mother’s voice telling small girls there’s no use in running to help. Even doctors would turn her away, even doctors would want to take her eyes out and find out what they could see too, doctors that use. She knows it’s not real, knows this isn’t Adelita, she’s almost forgot the quick words at all, but the shivers aren’t for the snow.) 

 "Is it okay if I don’t sit? I don’t know if I can stay sitting,” she doesn’t expect it, but feels better to ask, show nerves in the way she asks, in the way she wants to knot fingers and move legs. It doesn’t feel real yet, the pain, the flames, the soot, that this is her body at all. That will need more time, that will need clearer eyes. Questions to take her away from herself, to focus on the woman, out of necessity, out of wondering, “I thought I saw you, or swan feathers. You didn’t stay, did you?” A hope, she wasn’t in flames.

Fire burns even after it has been extinguished. It’s there, snaking its way inside of you, corrupting your lungs and blemishing your skin, red-hot, ashy and corrosive. It’s in your mind too, a nightmare imprinted on in your brain, striking fear into the core of who you are. Only time can erase its existence - and Adelita, muses, perhaps a little tenderness too. She hasn’t stopped since the flames began - first swooping inside, desperately rescuing those her tongue might otherwise condemn. And now, afterwards, she puts a gentle nature to good use, washing away the ash, bandaging wounds, holding people tight.

Adelita has always been adept at recognising fear in her patients. Most of the time, they can’t verbalise it - and her normal tactics, a soft touch, or treats - probably won’t cut it. So instead, she explains. If someone understands something, they are less likely to be afraid. “I’m just going to make sure you didn’t suffer any major damage. I’ll listen to your chest - “ A stethoscope is a stethoscope, after all. “- wash the ash off you and probably give you a snow dressing to calm your skin down.” Who knew the cold would have a use after all? “We can take it slow. And you can tell me to pause at any time. Whatever you need.”

She waits then, for permission. She won’t act without it.

“Yeah, that was me.” Half shaking her head at the memory, she smiles. “Only to get people out. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”

[fairygcdmother]

DATE & TIME: February 14th, 1.28am LOCATION: the starlight carnival, insider a sleeper car STATUS: closed @vindictagloria

Adelita could no longer remember whose idea it had been to start drinking, or who had been the one to supply the vodka. (Or, now that she thought about it, where it had come from? Ah well, that was the beauty of Russia). The only conscious thought was the bottle in her hand and the burn at the back of her throat, one that would turn to regret by first light.

At least she wasn’t cold anymore.

"You know,” Adelita began, only to stop abruptly moments mater. Scrunching her face with concentration, she tried to recover the lost thought, coherence running away from her. “Hang on. Hang on. Hang on.” It was a captive audience of one, everyone else having formed their own distinct groups or turned in for the night. The cogs in her mind turned, albeit slower than usual. “Aha - I remember.” Clearing her throat as if she was about to make an announcement, Adelita continued. “I haven’t been drunk since college. They say - they say that you shouldn’t drink if you have kids. And...I somehow ended up with like, ten. How did that happen?”

Rather unceremoniously, she thrust the bottle into Marcella’s hands.

[fairygcdmother]

DATE & TIME: February 13th, 9.14am LOCATION: the starlight carnival, outside STATUS: closed @whiterxbbits

She can’t help but wonder whether Metzger has decided to cut his losses, recruit a band of new cryptids and relegate his old ones to becoming part of a ghost story, shivering to death. She also knows that that thought is just her mind playing tricks, a side-effect of the cold creeping into her bones. Scientifically, she knows that freezing wrecks havoc with both body and mind.

The cure? Food and warmth.

The first is sorely lacking. And the second? She’ll have to create that herself.

Eyes scanning the camp, Adelita searches for someone in the same predicament as her - a soul she can recruit for her endeavor. Theo. She spots his small frame hiding between the others, a ghost in the midst of men. Calling him over, she beckons him to the patch of snow at her feet. Kinetic energy, that’s all we need. 

Hands tucked behind her back, snowball clasped between gloved fingertips, Adelita grins, a playful smile to pull him out of his shell.

“You ever had a snowball fight?” You’d think the answer was yes, but around here, childhood blemishes are all too common.

[fairygcdmother]

DATE & TIME: February 12th, 21.14pm LOCATION: the starlight carnival, outside STATUS: closed @codecerberus

The prevailing sentiment was that anywhere not with Metzger on his train was a step up, a respite to be welcomed. Tonight, Adelita was wondering if she wasn’t the only one who was second-guessing those assumptions. A world away from anywhere she had ever known, she pulled her coat around her tighter, hands rubbing together for warmth. There was something...unearthly about this place. And she wasn’t talking about the cryptids. Glancing over at their “host”, Adelita’s gaze sharpened. “I wonder how Metzger knows him.” She mumbled under her breath, not sure if anyone had caught her words or not. It wasn’t as if there were cryptid circus conventions...were there? “And whether it’s a good or bad thing we’ve been left here.”

[fairygcdmother]

DATE & TIME: February 13th, 12.00pm. LOCATION: the wilderness STATUS: closed @wolfiber

Around and around and around and around. Circles, in abstract, were pleasing shapes. They started and they began. They could be measured, scientific formulas applied to their structures. But in reality, there was danger in continuation, where going forward simply meant going backwards. Often, you drew the shape several times before you realised its consequences.

That you were lost.

Stubbornly, Adelita had been loathe to admit that they were wandering around aimlessly for quite some time now, shivering instead underneath her (faux) fur coat. To admit such would be to surrender control, to allow a feeling of panic that had thus far been suspended. But, entranced by the pull of the wilderness, the bare trees and the pristine landscape, they had found themselves treading further and further into the unknown. By the time the beauty had been usurped by the bitter cold, it had been too late to turn back. They didn’t even know which way back was. 

Pulling her coat in tighter, she chanced a look at her companion. Wishing to conserve energy and heat, they had mostly remained silent. “I think,” she began, chancing one last look at the landscape - desperately hoping it would yield some clues - “we might be lost.”

[fairygcdmother]

wanted plots:

01. baby it’s cold outside: understatement. it’s fucking freezing. everyone is trying to figure out ways to stay warm and see the blizzard out through to the end. it’s time to get creative - whether that means helping addy put her scout survival badge to good use, gettin’ hot n heavy to spice things up or perhaps indulging in your inner child - and building an igloo. (1/2)

02. nancy drew strikes: you step between the pages of a legend, slowly coming face to face with myth itself. the tale of volkov’s carnival is infamous. in the absence of anything else to do, it’s time to sort between fact and fiction. addy sets out to figure out what happened for once and all. are you a volunteer - bored and restless and looking to occupy yourself or curious and inspired, genuinely interested in what happened? are you looking to mess with her mind - and lead her down the path of fire-loving demons? (1/2)

03. friend or foe? fear or ferocity?: it’s impossible to ignore the elephant - or rather, the cryptids - in the room, the haunted looking figures who peer at you from across the room. ever the benevolent friend, addy sets out trying to befriend them - reaching out and offering a helping hand. either you’re character feels the same way, wants to warn addy to stay the hell away (figuring them to be more monster than man) or wants to mess with their heads (what a bad guest you are). (1/3)

04. white upon white upon white: typical addy, finding freezing cold tundra to be beautiful. there’s nowhere to go, but that doesn’t stop her from going out in it - perhaps to explore, perhaps to search for food/wood or perhaps you don’t mean to stray at all. either way, you end up getting lost - relying on each other to get back to the group. extra points if you have to use your cryptid abilities to figure it out. (1/1)

05. savior: fire catches fast, threatening to smother all. steeling herself, addy scarcely hesitates before entering the flames, determined not to let anyone die on her watch. maybe your character is trapped, injured and alone. maybe your character needs a little more persuasion to be pulled out. maybe you’re a rescuer too - the pair of you working as a team to save others. (1/3)

06. aftermath: addy looks after your character after the fire. that’s...it. (1/2)

[fairygcdmother]

fcxxes:

amusement curls on his lips at the other’s bold proclamations - it is admirable, truly, but not the first he has heard. not the first who has tried, even here. girls with snow on their skin but not in their hearts refuse to turn feathered gazes from him, thinking scars are just neck-deep, thinking warm hands can be enough to sway skin aching for a bruising. girls with blood behind their eyes refuse to believe him anything other than a moon meant for their solar system despite seeing - despite knowing - that such ache to come will be from a boy no longer worth hoping in.

we already know how this kind of story ends. is the wolf not hunted for its hunger, for its greed? did anyone care for a salvation for things with eyes too big, teeth too large? did anyone ask what kind of hunger drove him so, if the stones they sewed his stomach closed with finally sated him as he sunk to the bottom of the river?

(question: how empty must one be to swallow all you have done whole without feeling a thing?)

(answer: to be just skin, to be nothing more. i finished eating what’s left of my stomach lining yesterday and the taste of my own blood was almost, but not quite enough)

“will you now?” he humours her, eyebrows raised and lips quirked, tongue reaching for droplets of red running down cheeks. “how noble of you. is it for a better sleep without dreams of me in it? or does your conscience look at things like me and ache to fix it? make it right, fair for all the bodies ‘ve left not just today, but my whole life?” he leers, eyes still bright with amusement, iron sliding into voices. bodies learn closer, enough to see teeth, enough to see the points slowly dripping red. “or is it for me, dear addy? what a noble thing to do for a thing so undeserving of your grace.”

he lets out a laugh at this, all mirthless, all too sharp for the ears. there is a kind of blade, some sort of metal in eyes when he looks at her, humour all clipped now. “my world’s all dark and ugly? how dramatic of you to say. how fitting.” he purrs, voice low in throats. “perhaps that’s how i like it. ‘ve always had a sweet tooth for things that shouldn’t be between my teeth.”

she pulls away and he makes no move to follow, only smiles wider. with all that blood, we can’t be sure if mouths have merely been slit at the corner for that kind of grin, all bleeding, all acidic sweet. “‘f course you do, dear addy. but when you’re done with that heart of yours, would you be so sweet to give it to me?”

She never thought she’d grow into a woman with an affinity of bandaging up the bruised and resurrecting the damned. Her entire life, she’d walked the path of normality - middle-class ballet lessons, honor roll student, prom queen, first in her class. If it wasn’t for a devilish father and hidden wings, she never would have become this person at all. It could have been a burden. It could have been a blessing. The only difference, for her at least, was how you respond to such changes. She embraced hers - and in turn, was gifted with the ability to see the world through a thousand planes. Some were brutal. But you could always find the beauty underneath.

For every thorn, there’s a rose, stubbornly blooming.

Soren is the bramble, twisting itself into the delicate palm of her hand. She is the flower - and she will tear him out before he can splinter her.

Who knows? Maybe in time, he’ll turn from menace to weed, wildly magnificent, untamed - but not poisonous. 

She never said she wanted him to be good. Only to be better.

“Yes.” Blood trickles down his face. She does her best to stomach it, numbing herself to its brutality. If you cannot face ugliness, how do you hope to teach it to tame itself? Then, it is her turn to laugh - matching his strength at every turn. “Don’t flatter yourself Soren. I don’t dream about you.” Her nightmares are confined to reality. Her dreams are delicate works of art, expansive adventures over wildernesses and snow-dusted grounds, thousands of miles away. “It isn’t my place to decide if you’re worthy of redemption, that’s on you.” Even an angel cannot pluck a demon from the flames if they cling to their sin. She steps back. “Making sure no-one dies is pretty bare minimum.” 

Further and further back, until the distance between them cannot be broached in a single step. Her attention, once focused on him, pans out - for the first time noticing the chaos around her. There is much to be done. 

Still, there is time for one last comment.

“No. I think it would make you sick.”

[the-book-diaries]

She tastes like nectar and salt. Nectar and salt and apples. Pollen and stars and hinges. She tastes like fairy tales. Swan maiden at midnight. Cream on the tip of a fox’s tongue. She tastes like hope.

Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke & Bone (via the-book-diaries)

[fairygcdmother]

sullivanmock:

clearliquors:

BOLD what applies to your muse.

PLACE IN SOCIETY

financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty.

medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged.

class or caste: upper / middle / working / slave / unsure.

education: qualified / unqualified / studying.

criminal record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no.

FAMILY

married - happily / married - unhappily / engaged or betrothed / partnered / single / divorced / separated.

has a child or children / has no children / wants children.  

close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased.

orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent(s).

TRAITS + TENDENCIES

extroverted / introverted / in between.

disorganized / organized / in between.

close minded / open-minded  / in between.

calm / anxious / in between.

disagreeable / agreeable / in between.

cautious / reckless / in between.

patient / impatient / in between.

outspoken / reserved / in between.

leader / follower / in between.

empathetic / unemphatic / in between.

optimistic / pessimistic / in between.

traditional / modern / in between.

hard-working / lazy / in between.

cultured / un-cultured / in between 

loyal / disloyal / in between.

faithful / unfaithful / unknown.

BELIEFS:

monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic.

belief in ghosts or spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care.

belief in an afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care.

belief in reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care.

belief in aliens: yes  / no / don’t know / don’t care.

religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious.

philosophical: yes / no.

OPINIONS

pro-choice / anti-abortion /  doesn’t know or on the fence.

pro-marriage / anti-marriage / doesn’t know or on the fence.

pro-death penalty / anti-death penalty  / doesn’t know or on the fence.

pro-drug legislation / anti-drug legislation / doesn’t know or on the fence.

left wing / right wing / middle / doesn’t know or on the fence.

SEXUALITY + ROMANTIC INCLINATION

heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual.

sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favourable.

romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favourable.

sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious.

potential sexual partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all.

potential romantic partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all.

ABILITIES

combat skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none.

literacy skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

artistic skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

technical skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none.

HABITS

drinking alcohol: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

smoking: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess. 

other narcotics: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

medicinal drugs: never / sometimes  / frequently / to excess. 

indulgent food: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess. 

splurge spending: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

gambling: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.