Feb 9, 2020
“how graceful they are, this reaper’s hands. he plucks the heart from within me with the practiced ease of a florist; as if he will make of it the centerpiece of a nuptial bouquet. “heavy things,” he says, turning it around in his palms. he runs his thumbs over the veins, caressing an absent pulse; “but they bloom so beautifully.” “not always,” I say, watching the scales sway in the wind. he hums, low in the throat. “this one has.””
—
ANUBIS // iris-keeper
ғʏᴇᴀʜᴍʏᴛʜs’ sᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴍʏᴛʜ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ ❥ ᴅᴀʏ ɴɪɴᴇ : ᴀɴ ᴀғʀɪᴄᴀɴ ᴅᴇɪᴛʏ
lianna schreiber, 25 july 2017.
(via lukelxiv)
