halo of flies

Skai Liddell. 15. a nightmare dressed like a daydream //

[serenitywaverly]

“Wait– You’re serious?”

[ohskai-blog]

“Oh. No.”

[ohskai-blog]

( nikolai )

“Created by horrible creatures to limit our sense of freedom and limitless-ness, yes. How long have you stared, again?”

“I don’t agree with your definition. You’re speaking from a predisposition.”

[leo-api]

[rickyffs-blog]

“I’m sure you’re not suppose to hurt little animals, including my friends and I, but hey, that’s just what I think. Who knows what you go going on in there.” 

[ohskai-blog]

“I didn’t know you thunk at all. Except for when your hollow bones hit the forest floor.”

[aloha-alani]

For a few moments, Alani hadn’t even noticed the other being in her presence. She’d given all her attention to the sunflower, which was slowly but surely looking like it was rising from the page on it’s own. With every pencil stroke the flower was becoming more and more realistic. After a while, the islander native stopped her sketching to get a good look of her work. She held out the sketchbook at arm’s length to get a better view of it; it was then she noticed she wasn’t alone. “Oh, hi!” She greeted the other happily, then proceeded to turn the picture around to show off her sketch. “What do you think? I feel like it’s missing something, but I’m just not sure what.”

[ohskai-blog]

At being acknowledged: rapid blinking, butterfly wings in her throat, their beating a 1260 bmp, more hummingbird than swallowtail. Her hair was double-tucked, her tongue was wetting the canyons on her lips, and there was no speaking through them or over them or around the suffocating little muscle in her throat. 

At the flower: it was like someone had planted a paper seed there and it was blooming it all its stripped-bark sunlight. She didn’t flinch back when it was shoved into her face, close enough to double-it-- but she did blink at it, setting it into focus for fleeting seconds and it was like the paper people cut out of dead tree roots walking around. 

At the girl: “Have you tried                                             parasites?” 

[margaretbjorgman-blog]

Maggie hesitates, this wasn’t exactly how she’d planned things to go because what exactly could the girl possibly want that she was willing to give? “Do you like… candy?”

[ohskai-blog]

“The floss. The gum strips. The wax bottles. The wax in my teeth after and the juice in my throat-- formost. Those candies and the red hots, too, like blood without their marys. Do you have those? Or are we juxtaposed?” 

[parkerhhare]

He was good at keeping sighs and all other subtle expressions silent as opposed to quiet. Parker didn’t allow for the exhalation to escape into the air, but in his head he heaved it out so loud it shook his thoughts. He hadn’t woken up that morning prepared to deal with another Wonderlander (he hadn’t even woken up that morning–he just hadn’t fallen asleep). He definitely hadn’t prepared himself to deal with the Liddell daughter; she was as draining as Zane, in her own way. 

He pulled his arms back into himself, a small amount of spite infusing the action; he crossed them over his chest, and shot Skai a look he hoped convey how not in the mood he was. “Parker Hare, yes, and I actually wouldn’t, no. Sorry. Is there a problem?”

[ohskai-blog]

“Oh, there are loads of them,” she began, bobbing her head so hard her hair tangled up in her eyelashes, and she started swaying a little again, like gravity was trying to pull her in half with it’s magma fingers, all buried in the core of this earth, but still reaching up, reaching up to pull her apart at her flower-stiched seams, the woven daisy charms of them, and she swayed as she spoke still, “For one, the sky up there is so brittle it is breaking, do you see? And fitfully. 

“For another, the sun is swallowing the pieces.

“This world is trying to eat itself alive and I think it’s because it knows we could do far worse than that.” She tsked her tongue again, tsked his name on it, over and over, and over, turning in a slow circle. 

[sweetromenpotts]

Romen wasn’t exactly uncomfortable with her actions, often finding herself invading others’ personal space without realizing it. No, It was something else, something unsettling about the girl, making her want to take a small step back just in case. She kept her bright smile and curious gaze still, not moving an inch farther afraid it might be seen as an insult of sorts. “Oh? Do they call it something else from where you come from?” Romen asked. “Back home we call it chasser.”

[ohskai-blog]

The recession, like the black stuff of sticky night sliding back on tarred underbelly from the extending shadows of morning sun, should have been imperceptible ( the way the dew doesn’t notice the snakes slithering through it, the way the sky doesn’t bruise and swell like all its angry clouds do ) but Skai noticed, she noticed Romen move back, and she noticed Romen noticing her notice and trying not to act like it was purposeful, the recession; and maybe Skai should have been insulted, but the motive behind the action didn’t register-- she didn’t wonder  w h y  Romen did it, she only noticed that she had, and adjusted herself accordingly to this new hollow between them-- a step forward, arm still outstretched, fingers curling. 

“Oh, they don’t.”

[1zanehare-deactivated20150909]

I said leave or I will make you and your kind leave this planet bloodied and in pieces, just like my father should have.

[ohskai-blog]

“I am greatly doubting your capability; you don’t know this spine well enough to command the marrow attached to it.” 

[ohskai-blog]

.

[priezpourlui]

Daniel Shea

Germany, 2011

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[joysull-blog]

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[ohskai-blog]

^^^^^^^

[ohskai-blog]

hopefully all my replies are out and messages answered? like this post if I missed something from you/you need me to answer anything !!

[ohskai-blog]

Enter: Two II Gill && Skai

One of the most unusual things here, Skai thought, was maybe the room. It didn’t smell like she knew rooms to smell; not like skirt tails or flower’s breath or musty tea bags, stacked in the corner, a puddle colorless under them, seeping into the floorboards, all knotted with the puckered lips of planks. It didn’t feel like she knew rooms to feel: no comfort, however fleeting it had come to her before; no security (not that she was in want of it, not really); no silhouettes with their backlit frames familiar in the not-new moonlight. This room was barren: like the womb of a wolf never cast out. 

The walls were stark, the wrong kind of white, the harsh kind. The mattress was clean and bare and indecent, the drawers in the desk and the wire hangers in the bureau empty and smelling like their sap still. 

And more unusual was that, for all the loneliness, the lack of it, there was still no privacy here-- a little hallway connected her to the egg-white and maple another person would live in. She still had this space, but she could not hate it alone. Someone would be hating it across a hall that connected them, made sharing a necessity. She was no good at it. 

She had, countless times, it felt, more than all her bitten back fingernails could bear, refused the offers for help: particularly from her brother. She did not need anyone to do this for her. She didn’t want to move the scant of her own belongings into this place the first night, nor the second, nor third-- it wasn’t right to christen the room as her own right away. She needed to feel it exposed first; she needed to like it naked. But she did, about now-- she could appreciate the milk of it, the empty scents, and she was planning on bringing her things in now, in this space she could sort of be comfortable in now and so now that it deserved her-- but of course there was that other person, a room away, making the whole process crowded.

[flowury]

[aloha-alani]

[Alani sat at a picnic table outside in the quad, quietly sketching a picture of a sunflower. She was so focused on the sketch that she didn’t even hear your character walk up.]

[ohskai-blog]

Maybe gravity worked different here-- maybe that was why she so often found herself on her back, head on pavement, sunburnt shoulders fresh from snapped towels and community bathrooms freckling with the tiny stones that came loose from asphalt. Ever since she’d shown up in this place, she could feel the sky wasn’t happy. She liked to look at it. She wondered if something so wide and faceless, genderless, bodiless, could be sentient and if it was did it want to die? 

Close by, a pencil cut rivers into a piece of paper, little lead indents brought by a focused hand. Her, with the attention span of a beetlewip, had to crawl there then, to leave the sky to its devices for a moment, just a moment, she swore, to see the drawing for herself. Maybe it was of the sky. 

[nik-kolaif-blog]

“Not that I mind too much but uh… for how long have you been staring at me?”

[ohskai-blog]

“Time is a construct of this world.”