#chase laskaris

[winterspixels]

[winterspixels]

And when he's had his fun,

he disappears (fun, he disappears)

That boy might be the worst,

but damn he looks fine

He makes the devil wet his bed at nighttime

He makes them fall down to their knees and cry

Don't say I didn't warn you

when you die x

[winterspixels]

The Shadow Prince let them weave their delicate web of puppet strings. They thought to bind him, make him bend to their will and whim.

They mistook his silence for complacency, docility. Too late, they realized they’d placed their greedy hands into the gapping maw of a feral beast.

[winterspixels]

Can you keep a secret?

[winterspixels]

Happy Pride Month!

[winterspixels]

[winterspixels]

He looks up and distantly realizes he’s gone as far as he can. The oceans' depths are spread before him waiting for him to take that final step off the pier.

It was tempting, but so was the sparking carpet of thousands of stars above him. The moon a bright rippling smear on the water's surface.

It truly would have been a beautiful night to try and capture if he’d been inclined to do anything except stare blankly out at the vastness of the ocean spread out in front of him in a futile attempt to hold the jagged pieces of himself together. 

He lays down, the rough wood digging in uncomfortably.  He’s not surprised he’d wound up here with the ocean as his only companion.  

Chase had always felt an inexplicable connection with the sea. Even his dreams frequently contained various aspects of the waters hidden treasures, mixtures of the common blues and greens, coral, and the myriad other colors the depths offered.

The dreams were bright, vivid, and sometimes contained things he knew he’d never seen before. It all felt achingly familiar yet obviously was not, and often what his imagination created during sleep made it onto painted canvas. It was his greatest muse, and he loved it jealously.

The times he found himself too close to the razor thin line between human and wolf, he always found his way back to the shore as if lulled there by some profound melody. The playfully lapping waves on the shoreline brought a peace his otherwise chaotic soul lacked. Strange that a person who regularly transformed into a furry creature of the night would love the water so much.  

Tonight, though, he found little comfort in the familiar rhythm of the sea. He felt too much, and not enough, a state of numbness.  

As lost as he was to the twisted tether of his grief, he never noticed the odd phenomenon of snow falling around him as he cried. The touch is soft and fleeting, an acknowledgment and attempt at comfort.

[winterspixels]