[murroyilodel]

OOC

ADULTING IS HARD but life has been good. It just got really busy and so I have not been here for a year. I am slowing easing back in. There are old drafts from a year ago that I am still interested to do, but I will completely understand if anyone does not wish to continue them.

I hope everyone has been well too. Wishing you all good things!

[mournfulroses]

Marcel Proust, from The Complete Works; “Remembrance of Things Past,”

HOW THE BALLERINA NEVER knew what she wrought upon the minister of justice the evening of the assault. He had never killed a man, but the blinding and dizzying rage which ignited within him would have been enough to do so if the sickening weight of dread had not brought him to his knees to check on her. Lucy said he was too harsh on Esmeralda over the situation and only dismissed her actions as foolish, but that was not the whole truth.

Watching her be attacked… knowing how severe it could have been, his anger had manifested from fear. Of course, he did not think a woman stupid enough to marry a sleazy man like Olivier deserved for Esmeralda to step in and risk her safety. He was upset at her for endangering herself, endangering the person he loved. But she could never know that.

Observing her carefully, he did not understand her surprise over his interest, as anyone would be curious. Surely, she must understand that most people kept their heads low when there was danger. While he was happy to listen to her, he had no interest in making small talk. That did not make her speaking about her return to the theatre less enjoyable, or her parents’ relief less sincere.

Was he disappointed? Claude’s brows furrowed as he contemplated that honestly. Now that she was safe, did her recklessness sting less? No.

          “Perhaps, it does,” he admitted quietly.

Unaware of her distress, he was already on his third glass of wine as he took another bite of pasta. He did not like the idea of her paying for his drinking habits but didn’t want to be rude for taking away the entire premise of the dinner. At least, the wine wasn’t incredibly expensive. She would have to be careful of ever offering to take out Judge Remy, who had developed a refined taste --and tolerance-- for fine wine.

Her next question threw him. Staring back at her whimsical smile with guarded shock, it was the judge’s turn for his heart to beat rapidly. What an incredibly personal question. Claude’s thin lips parted briefly, as he suddenly needed more air, overcome by his thoughts. There was only one.

                     "I want to know if my love for you leads to                      Heaven or Hell. If I have lived in the right way,                    then you are what I first thought-- a sorceress!                      If I have lived wrongly, then you are my new life."

          “I do not have the same ability to act without thinking.”

Except for when it came to her. His head was spinning as he fought for composure. Looking at her, he was torn, conflicted by his feelings for her. He would banish everything he had ever known for her.

                    "Witch you rouse in me the foolish urge to set                     you free, I’ll take you somewhere I can be your                     sanctuary."  Rushing her, he  grabbed  her face                     and held it in place while he forcibly planted his                     desperate lips on hers.

Blinking, waking up from the flurry of images rushing through his head, his hands weren’t perfectly steady as he reached for his wine and took a sip.

          “You risked everything for far less than I ever could.”

Without Esmeralda… did he even have an answer? Not Lucy…not even Jehan. He wouldn’t give up his career for anyone… except for her.

          “Look down on me if you wish… no one is worth my career,” he said gravely.

THEY WERE NOT SO DIFFERENT, but she would not know that, would she? To her, the Minister of Justice's temperament was the farthest from hers. He did not stir to anger as she did, even though he would certainly turn at anything he considered impertinent from her. That had been their way, at least at first. They spoke, they disagreed, they fought, and they parted dissatisfied.

She had never imagined they would have a civil moment over a meal. At his somber answer to her idle question, she immediately arched an eyebrow and pouted her lips.

"Harsh."

She mulled over what he said over her glass of wine, leaving him to eat in peace for a while. It did not occur to her until now that just as harsh as he was with others, he was harsh on himself as well. She always thought that he looked down on people and assumed he therefore felt himself superior. She did think he would also judge himself in the same, unblinkered manner. That did not seem a pleasant way to live. In fact, she wondered whether it was exhausting to live like that. She would be absolutely sour too. At that, she smiled brightly and looked at him.

"I choose not to believe you. You just do not have the opportunity yet."

Then, another piercing memory. This time, she could not gloss over it so easily. Setting her glass of wine down, her palm pressed flat on the table for support.

"Choose me, or the fire."

Her heart was racing now. Blinking rapidly, she took deep breaths. The fear filling her, the fire at her face, they felt so real, like they were happening right in this moment. Her face became more flushed than usual, making her freckles more prominent. She did her best to recover, knowing she must come across odd. Odder than usual for him even. At first, she tried to make light of the situation.

"Oof, that wine's stronger than I expected."

But as she calmed, she felt it unfair to be dishonest with him. Besides, he might have a sensible explanation to what she experienced, whereas her family and friends might be worried about these episodes she had been having.

"Maybe it's been the stress of the case, and now everything is just gushing out. I've been having strange dreams, that's all. Have you ever had an out of body experience? Never thought it was possible."

The intensity of the shadows still haunted, she was chasing after bits that were not coming together yet. She had a sneaky suspicion that it was a matter of time. But did she really want to know? Curiosity killed the cat, and that cat was her.

[snowbairdd]

- Now, now, listen to me, Quasimodo. - No, you listen! All my life you have told me the world is a dark, cruel place. But now, I see that the only thing dark and cruel about it is people like you!

THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME (1996) dir. Gary Trousdale, Kirk Wise

[murroyilodel]

Tifa just hugs Esmerelda so tightly!

A BRIGHT SPARK among the dreary houses and cobblestones of Paris. Esmeralda did not miss a beat and returned the hug just as tightly.

"This time, I have something for you too!"

Pleased, she handed Tifa a scented pouch she had made from dried flowers and herbs.

"For your travels."

[thecurseisinourblood]

AT LAST, ESMERALDA EMERGED from the sea of faces and almost as quickly a guffaw of disbelief burst forth from Clopin, followed by the crowd. Recovering from his mirth, Clopin shrugged and shook his head.

“Come now, cherie, you know this is not how we do things!”

The minister’s hot stare on the darling ‘princess’ did not cease as she single-handedly caused such an uproar there was a moment he thought they would turn on her. Unfamiliar with the customs, the judge assumed Clopin’s offer to the crowd was his way of being falsely generous. A mocking offer, of course, but an offer nonetheless to strip him of his virtue before they hanged him.

“Let him go! Let him go where? Exactly?”

The king heated, there was more to it than the minister understood right away, but Clopin looked like he was on the verge of throwing a tremendous fit.

“You.. you cannot marry this man. I won’t allow it, cherie,” another exchange, and Clopin no longer held back. “You understand everything that entails! I won’t let that happen. I won’t let you sacrifice yourself to still be this man’s prize! Do you think we’re blind as to why he’s down here? He’s here for you!”

Bursting with anger, Clopin swung his foot right into the judge’s face, knocking the wind out of him. Spitting blood on the floor, he saw Phoebus run up to Esmeralda now, silently urging her. The fury blinded him, angered him so much he nearly threw the men holding him off their balance again. Phoebus kept hold of her arm, still whispering to her. His life… was not worth the cost. Watching Esmeralda obsessively, his heart rate picked up, nervous with unwanted hope, afraid of how brief the future with her would be when everyone wanted him dead.

[murroyilodel]

STRANGE TO HEAR Clopin speak of how things ought to be done, when he so often prided himself to be a maverick, and tended to cheer her on when she did something outrageous and others frowned at the attention it brought to her and them as a people. She did not ask for the attention; she chose to act because she did not know any other way. Did not know how to live with herself if she turned a blind eye instead.

That had been the way with Quasimodo at the Feast of Fools; that was the way now. Here, at the Court of Miracles.

She was glad that her back was to the crowd, so only Clopin saw her face flush when he accused Frollo of his true aim to come here. She had not told anyone, not even Clopin, of what Frollo had said and done to her in the cathedral that day Phoebus had helped her claim sanctuary.

Clopin played the fool but was no fool. A bruised ego for a Romani humiliating him in public could no longer be the only reason why Frollo later hunted her and burnt his own city for her.

She flinched at the unexpected flare from Clopin as he kicked Frollo out of spite and frustration. They both knew he was defeated as soon as she intervened. Still, she felt another man try to save her too. Phoebus' grip on her arm was firm. She never imagined knights with good hearts and handsome features to exist.

She was no martyr. But this was no fairy tale with a happy ending.

"If you try to stop me when you yourself opened this option, you're only going to make the others angrier for showing me favour again."

"That's where you're dearly wrong. These people will be happy to see him hang."

She stepped forward, breaking Phoebus's hold on her. Arms crossed, she took a deep breath before she defied her leader and turned to face everyone. While many respected her and were fond of her, she knew that there were always those who would not mind seeing her fall and would take delight in her getting into another sticky situation. This time with no escape.

"It is late. Let's make this quick and get it over and done with. I am sure you all prefer to go back to your tents and sleep."

Ignoring the confusion on Phoebus's and Quasimodo's faces, and among the rising murmurings of her people, she got Djali to bring over a clay pot. Shoving it into Frollo's hands, she avoided looking at his eyes. If she did, she feared that she might not be able to carry her decision through.

"Break that. Even if you don't trust me. It's this or an immediate hanging anyway. Get yourself a tomorrow."

[murroyilodel]

i love happy endings!

[frenchublog]

[thecurseisinourblood]

Frollo stood outside his car and lit a cigarette before entering Lucy's home, where he saw Esmeralda approaching. "I suppose there's little point in hanging onto the idea of you losing interest in attending these dinners. Perhaps I should tell Lucy to add another course and pray you grow bored."

[murroyilodel]

Surliness met spark. With her hair in place and her favourite dress catching the breeze as she skipped up the steps to the porch, a little smoke and snappy greeting could not faze her.

"Another course can be temptation and not deterrent." A happy retort that held no trace of annoyance returned. "The food here is so good, yes?"

[thecurseisinourblood]

In a Place of Miracles

TRIUMPH. A seemingly innocuous mishap presented itself in the way of an unwisely gifted talisman. It dangled from the hands of the deformed hunchback as he held it up. Unbeknownst to the reluctant companions, it reflected in the hungry, grey eyes of the minister. To think, Esmeralda held the secret of his career on her hip only to give it to her enemy’s ward. A fatal mistake. Claude Frollo watched, concealed in the darkness from the two ignorant men arguing too loudly in front of the red door of Notre Dame. A surge of disdain pulled his lips over his teeth in disgust. Phoebus was proof that soldiers were merely fodder, a handsome oaf who threw himself into danger for the sake of his newest conquest. The promotion to Captain of the Guard had been much too generous for him. Still, he risked it all for that girl. Jealousy soured the judge’s gut, prickling him with an uncomfortable irritation. Esmeralda’s taste in that man was an object of scorn, making his blood boil. Frollo loathed her oversight of admiring that bumbling idiot. Phoebus was about to realize that Esmeralda wasn’t worth having Judge Claude Frollo as an adversary. Frollo closed his eyes in contempt as he took a deep breath. Anticipation replaced ire, as the judge imagined his bloody, blond head roll from his shoulders.  Stalking in the shadows, the judge’s army followed his lead quietly as they trailed far behind the two oblivious men. Once they reached the graveyard, Frollo ignited a torch to survey the entrance to the sanctuary which harbored every thief and heretic in the city. The heavy stone which concealed the steps was carelessly cast aside. Flames glinted in his gaze as he smirked and permitted himself a haughty chuckle. These were the boys to whom Esmeralda entrusted her life? Claude lifted his robe with a pale, bony hand as he descended the steps. He sure hoped his little witch enjoyed his surprise. No one was prepared, and so, when Esmeralda pressed her face against the chest of her precious Sun God, he held his head high with arrogant delight. The only man allowed to touch her from this moment forward was himself. But soon, his smirk vanished when the sound of a sickly gasp disturbed the air, and then another. He barely had time to withdraw his knife as a swarm of men dressed in skeleton outfits flanked his backline. There should not have been so many of them, but over ten of his men were stabbed beneath the arm avoiding any armor, puncturing their lungs and bleeding out. Fighting for his life, the judge held onto the belief that he brought enough men, that they were more prepared and better armed, but as more and more of his men slipped away, he realized that they were saving him for last. He could not overpower ten men, although he managed to injure four of them before his dagger slipped from his left hand. Numbly, his eyes fixed on the metal of his last chance before they dragged him unceremoniously to the noose.

They wanted a spectacle. The judge refused to give them one, even letting them strip him of the expensive velvet of his robe while he stayed on his knees. Clad in nothing but his white undershirt and black hose, the sound of cheering was deafening in his ears. Looking for Esmeralda with a sneer on his lips, he no longer saw blonde or red hair. He was going to die without getting the chance to lay his eyes on her again. Clopin, the King now stood in front of him with a knife in his hands. He bounced his index finger over the tip of the blade. “What I should do is slice your throat in front of everyone, let you bleed out, but it might be more satisfying to watch you hang. If only I could kill you twice.” Saying nothing, Frollo watched him with an unimpressed and repulsed scowl, the only sign of his irritation being that of his flexed jaw. “Is everyone ready?” Clopin smiled broadly. It was his unhurried and calm demeanor that unsettled the minister. Eyes moving rapidly, he could not pick out Esmeralda in the crowd. Did they flee? Claude’s heartbeat finally escalated. Death did not scare him, but dying without seeing her-- “Ask the question!” someone howled from below and everyone roared in delight. The king laughed. “Perhaps one of you could perform the arduous task of relieving this scrawny, old man of his virginity?" The jeers and laughter were dizzying. Claude could look death in the face unfazed, but humiliation? “I thought not!” Clopin cackled giddily. Frollo may be too thin, but he still had plenty of lean muscle. Rapidly twisting his body, the minister used his rage and remaining strength and managed to stand, punching one of the men holding him. Quickly apprehended again the men forced him back on his knees while Clopin strode over and rocked on his heels. The crowd screamed in excitement. The King held the knife to his throat while staring at the judge’s livid eyes. “Ah, ah ah!” Clopin scolded. “I think the least you could do is provide us with a fun exit after all you have done to us. You die alone minister. You see? No one wants you, and no one ever will!”

[murroyilodel]

EVEN THE INNOCENT slept uneasy, when conscience weighed heavy in one's heart. Esmeralda tossed about in her tent. How carefree she had felt just a night ago, as she ran away from the confines of Notre Dame and returned to the safety of the Court of Miracles. All she had cared then was to reach home, where she had been welcomed with loud cheers since she had the rare distinction of outwitting her people's mortal enemy.

But at what cost? Esmeralda sat up and buried her face in her hands. This was not a simple matter of escaping blundering soldiers and being forgotten. She had not thought of the horrendous consequences that could follow, and that did follow. She had not calculated on the sheer... pettiness of the Minister too embarrassed to lose to a lowly Roma.

Not pettiness. She remembered.

It would be unwise to arouse Frollo's anger further.

The Archdeacon proved to be right. In a single day, Frollo wrecked havoc across the city. It was only late in the day that news travelled to Clopin and the rest of the Court of Miracles of Roma living above being arrested and even citizens' homes being turned upside down to search for her. Her! Nothing but a common dancer. Unable to sit by, Esmeralda disguised herself with Djali under her hood and left to see the situation for herself.

Her terror when she arrived at the miller's home, in time to witness Frollo torch it. The family's screams echoed in her head as she recalled the scene. She could feel the heat of that blaze, and imagined what it must have felt for the children. No one knew, but she would have stepped forward to save them, even if it meant being caught by Frollo and facing certain death herself. Thankfully, Phoebus braved the fire and pulled the family out.

Was it gratitude that moved her?

She might have had a brief moment of sweetness in the kiss she and Phoebus shared in the belltower, but that moment vanished swiftly. The miller's home was only the start. Having tasted fire, it was as though Frollo's self-righteousness spurred him on to burn the city.

Did he not love Paris himself?

Now alone, the guilt that she had pushed aside when she had to focus on saving Phoebus returned tenfold. Perhaps not everyone was so fortunate to have a captain rescue them. Did people get injured? Did people... Esmeralda clutched at her dress. What should she do? Continue to hide?

As though the fates chose to reply, she heard a commotion and saw Djali hurry back to the tent to pull her out. People gathered around the platform usually used for Clopin to make announcements. And an announcement he shouted out in glee, while Esmeralda's eyes widened in horror when she saw both Quasimodo and Phoebus standing there with the nooses around their necks.

"Stop!"

No. No deaths because of her. Esmeralda leapt forward with great determination and quickly explained the whole situation. Embracing both Phoebus and Quasimodo affectionately, what no one anticipated was yet another dramatic twist of events. Frollo and his men were here, but the fates protected them and it was Frollo and his men who were the prey and not the hunter.

Esmeralda's mind whirled. Phoebus, ever the chivalrous hero, wrapped his arm around her to keep her steady. For many minutes, she could not react. Disbelief filled her as Clopin and his men stripped Frollo down to the barest of clothes. Was this truly it? Was this how it would end? All her inner struggle would vanish as this man perished and her people became free?

"Master..."

It was Quasimodo's voice, the voice of an angel, that snapped her out of her daze. She looked at him and saw how he too was torn. At that point, she related to him more than anyone else. They bore guilt, a different sort of guilt, but guilt all the same.

No deaths because of her. Could that include him?

She felt the sunlight from the rose window of the cathedral bathe her with warmth.

She told herself she must be mad. He did not deserve to be saved.

Shrugging herself out of Phoebus's embrace, she walked towards the platform.

"There won't be bloodshed today. Let him go, Clopin."

[murroyilodel]

I’m glad they had Quasi stand on top and sing solo!

Yzma, a little way away please, you’re blocking my girl!!

Thank you.

This was nostalgic.

[murroyilodel]

Just saying, if you want Esme to punch someone for bullying you, she will punch them for you.

[repetiita-moved]

"See? You're tender-headed..." Tilting Esmeralda's head once more, her fingers held onto a section of hair by her temple. Tightly weaving cornrows was a challenge for those with a sensitive scalp.

But... Camilla was a bit on the rough side. The only solace found was in the swipe of oil from the back of her hand onto Esmeralda's scalp. "I'll lay the edges when I'm done with this side... Pass me your ribbon, I'll braid it in."

@murroyilodel

[murroyilodel]

GRIN AND BEAR IT, and Esmeralda grinned through her wincing, as Camilla worked her way through her voluminous hair. She had no mirror in front of her, so she could not see Camilla's skill changing her appearance. She also could not remember how she got persuaded into trying this, but she did vibrate a little with anticipation as she handed her ribbon to Camilla.

"You're really quick at this. How often do you do it?"

[murroyilodel]

Palingenesia

thecurseisinourblood​:

AS IF HE WERE THINKING about her feelings! Esmeralda teased him, exposing him again to his newest addiction of many. The smallest of smiles pulled his reluctant lips, not unlike the ones he gave Christine. All she had to do was banter with her happy beauty and he no longer felt attached to his body. Her purity radiated from her and it hit him like a shot of morphine. How did he ever look upon her like some insidious serpent, and why was he plagued with these bleak dreams of her preying on him?

Before the cold grip of his visions could overtake him, Charlotte was in his face being a sweet little cheerleader. Touched by her praise, he too became swept into the moment. His mind consistently robbed him of any joy and sentimentality, so when it did not this time, he was only overwhelmed. Glancing away, Claude caught the sight of Lucy’s intimate touch to Esmeralda’s hand.

Sanguine Esmeralda… how she never faltered through all of this.

She’s practically family now.

Lucy’s voice echoed in his head as he wrestled with the ever-present conflict that slept against his ribs. His personal assistant was never this far off the mark, because one dinner with Esmeralda could end him, but as he gazed at the sweet ballerina, he knew he was done for. After another round of hugs and congratulations there was a brief moment for them to gather their things. Claude could not stop himself from indulging this time. That pesky, subtle smile betrayed him by its return.

          “You generously assumed my altruism and                     forget I must also tolerate you.”

Alas, despite the warnings to stay away, the minister felt like a puppet to his secret desires as he greeted her with faire la bise as soon as he descended the stairs. Thousands of times had he left the Palace of Justice, and this was the first time he met with a girl. Mouth watering, as it did each time her rosy scent entered his nose, Claude thought back to her case and wondered again how he had caught the scent of rosemary.

Chagrinned by his behavior, his hand found her back to usher her away to the car with him. As a staunch Frenchman, Claude was proud of his culture and happy to adhere to any social standards, except for when it came to that greeting. It was too intimate. Lucy knew how much he hated it, but she still insisted on special occasions. All of this and he couldn’t resist the urge in broad daylight with Esmeralda. He wasn’t stupid enough to think she would overlook it after half a year of insults. This went beyond just being polite, and everyone knew Claude was never polite just for the sake of it.

Sipping some wine as soon as they were seated in the Italian restaurant she chose, the judge decided he needed something to stop him from being the marble of his reputation. It was like some invisible force pushed him here against his will and he was just now waking up to the withering decision of accepting her offer.

Pleasant and charismatic, Esmeralda was always effervescent and overstimulating. Initially responding with little, the minister sat with a rigid posture and listened with unwelcome admiration and wonderment. There was little indication of him being anything but indifferent at first, but she did not appear to be phased. He was feeding the starving beast inside of him and drank in every nose crinkle and smile she could manifest for him. It frightened him to think she might finally understand that he wasn’t being apathetic at all, and accepted him. There was that painful swell in his chest again. How could love make one feel physically ill? Taking more wine, he found it difficult to tear his eyes away from her.

When silence finally befell them, Claude had time to contemplate something he hadn’t before as he watched her content expression while she ate. How did this humble performer disregard her safety for the sake of a stranger? Recalling the last few weeks, his feelings of pride and adoration finally seeped through his stubborn wall of resilience. The minister could no longer remain silent and feign displeasure like he wasn’t impressed. He needed to hear it from her mouth.

          “The brave are often foolish.”

It wasn’t just Carlotta Esmeralda defended against, but a powerful man who could have ruined her career in an instant if he had a shred of sense. Claude folded his hands thoughtfully.

          “You risked everything that night,” he murmured, his grey eyes piercing hers.           “Were you not afraid of him?”

THE BEST-LAID PLANS needed execution, and if the main player did not play, she would have to find other ways to occupy herself for the night. But he showed up on time, impeccably neat as always. Wide smile on her face, she would have made a quip, if not for that greeting. Unexpected and unassuming, her face flushed, and she let herself be led away, his hand on her back to push her along. In her head reverberated a single thought.

                He’s never done that before.

Cheeks still tingling from the warmth and pressure from his pecks, she wasn’t sure how she slipped into the passenger seat. She must have told him the name of the restaurant, for he drove off at once, and it was a matter of minutes before they arrived. The maître d' brought them in to a discreet corner, to avoid attracting attention to the politician. Tongues would wag, would they not, if they saw the marble judge with an unknown ballerina?

She chose this place after careful research (and asking Charlotte about his preferences), as she would never come to a place like this on her own. By her calculation, this meal would cost her two weeks worth of meals and groceries, while just being another meal for him. Still, this did not compare to actual fees were she to actually hire him. So she could not complain, and decided to take this as an opportunity to see this as a new experience. Even the napkins felt luxurious.

As the shock of their initial meeting subsided, and she found him as polite as he ever was to her (more, her mind reminded her again of those innocuous pecks), she began rattling. About her parents’ relief and gratitude, about her brother’s declaration that he would punch the man twice over, about her returning to work with complete ease, about the upcoming season and how he might like the repertoire. They had gotten through the starter, when it occurred to her that she had spoken much more than he. His words came back. 

                Tolerate her indeed.

To him, the adage of silence being golden was more attractive. This meal was to thank him after all, she should let him eat in peace. Tucking into her pasta, she marvelled at how a simple dish could be elevated to such deliciousness. More accustomed to stronger flavours in her youth, she grew to appreciate lighter profiles after living on her own. Finishing the last mouthful, she looked forward to the next course, when he spoke up. Eyes widening slightly at the question, she looked at him, somewhat puzzled.

               “Is that what you have been thinking about?”

Why hadn’t he asked before? Maybe he hadn’t wanted to lecture her while she had been fretting over the case. Besides, regardless of when he asked, she would still be surprised, because she never quite thought of that. No matter how worried she had been, not once had she regretted what she had done to defend the woman. She smiled.

              “I was too angry to be afraid. Does that answer disappoint you?”

Brash versus stoic. It struck her even more at this moment the many differences they had. But where it mattered, she thought, she felt that they remained the same. He had always been known for the way he handled his cases. Thinking back again to how he had argued her own case, she smiled happily, until a jolt of memory hit her. Of her standing on a platform, full of rage, shouting at him at the top of her lungs.

              “Justice!”

Startled, she froze for a split second. Her heart was pounding, and she told herself to calm down. She had so many dreams recently, that they were bleeding into reality. She took a deep breath, and focussed on the present.

              “The truth is that I didn’t think I would be risking everything when I punched him. I was just thinking about helping his wife.”

She wasn’t a martyr. She would not willingly sacrifice herself if she could. Not wanting to make herself out to be heroic, because she believed she wasn’t, she wanted to talk about him, as curiosity and playfulness got the better of her.

               “What about you? What will you risk everything for?”

[reverdies]

What are the ROOTS that clutch, what BRANCHES grow        Out of this stony rubbish?

featuring canon and original characters from les misérables, phantom of the opera, and other sources. by levi, 30+, they/them.

[murroyilodel]

thecurseisinourblood​:

Is that the bar? Apparently, that’s the bar.

The bar is to be nice to nice people. You’re being rude.

[murroyilodel]

@thecurseisinourblood​ said:  yeh i don't love him

... hush. He is a sweet person.