#composehr

[saintsdeath]

THE    MUSIC    WAS    A    SOFT    CRY    IN    THE    DARKNESS                       a mourning tune    /    a funeral march  ,    a dove singing atop the stone angels in the graveyard  .    it was solemn  ,    and sad  ,    and lonely  ----     and perhaps that is why he followed the tune  ,    as if drawn by some magic force towards its woeful crescendos                      (    for if anyone understood loneliness  ,    it was him  .    the figure of a thousand years of primordial darkness    /    the face of the sun  ,    trapped alone in hell    )                      companionship had become foreign  ,    comfort was not afforded to those drowned in rivers  ----    love begotten by those whose gods held their dying hearts                      ❝    you play beautifully  ,    is it a composition of your own  ?    ❞  

@composehr​  ,    𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑟

[vampyrasa]

        @composehr​​​  liked   for   a   starter.   /   lyric-based.

“   𝙸   𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁   𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙲   𝙸𝙽   𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝙰𝙸𝚁   𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃.   ”    but try as one might hear, the air was undeniably silent.  the night was so deathly and, daresay he,  so infectiously quiet that mayhap only the dogs would hear his song.  nay,  the lyrics were there if only one had the heart to listen,  and so he raised a hand to stay the words of the undying man,  and turned his face into the wind.     “         one familiar fading tune.   ”

[vycomte]

⚜     𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋          :          @composehr​

𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲.     socialites with enough money on hand held certain responsibilities to the betterment of polite culture, and to the young aesthete, there seemed no better cause than to help young artists share their craft with the world, so that they may all enjoy it. and so, seeking for that prolific young author who was currently prolific for his works, raoul was happy to find that he was very kind, very well-spoken, and willing to accept his patronage. traveling north from his estate in saône-et-loire, only taking a some few days through the countryside, to meet him at the arcturus theatre in the montparnasse. to his joyous surprise, he found the theatre to be in such well-kept shape: obviously, the owner cared greatly for his theatre. lingering in the lobby, hat upon his arm, raoul looked quite lost in the lobby, peering around as if his host might appear from any corner. eyes alight, feet squared, and shoulder drawn back in some unknown method of making himself well-seen, he delivers himself forward to an awaiting pair of blue eyes.     ❝ — monsieur, ❞     he speaks.     ❝ could you perhaps deliver me to your manager ? ❞

[9the]

“    well ,    i   suppose    this    is   saint   petersburg !    but   not   the   russian   one ,    the    finnish    one .    guess   everyone   forgets   about    that    bit ,    but   now   you    never    will .    nice   trade ,    huh ?    ”       /       @composehr​ .

[vampyrasa]

   @composehr​  heeded the call.  |   meditations.

❛    𝐈𝐅  𝐘𝐎𝐔  𝐀𝐑𝐄  𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃  by anything external,  the pain is not due to the thing itself,  but to your estimate of it              and this,  understand,   you have the power to revoke at any moment.  even when at your most powerless.    ❜

[furters-a]

“so… did you miss me?”   /   @composehr​, meme.

❛❛     OH,   DON’T BE SO FOOLISH,   FELIX.     ❜❜     all smooth silk,   tongue quick in its jovial retort   –––   affection at its root,   the hints of a smile curling mouth.   fresh perfume lingers over their heads,   unruly curls tied in a loose knot atop crown,   as pink as the robe draped over shoulders.   frank sits before where felix stands,   long angles of loosely crossed legs   /   arms atop a small director’s chair   (   BEDAZZLED AFFECTIONATELY ACROSS FABRIC   ).   palms taken within his,   makeup brush in grip ignored,   if only to press a kiss to each.      ❛❛     –––   how could i not?    ❜❜       fondness beats softly beneath exposed clavicles,   trust a gentle consideration in between.   NOT OFT WITHOUT HIS FACE;   a rarity afforded to a precious few,   &   to put it on for him granted to even less.   he squirms under the sensation of drying makeup,   the returning steady grasp at the apex of chin,   but eyes hesitate to close.       ❛❛     now,     ❜❜      he warns,   huffy   –––   only a matter of seconds before fussy.   fidgeting again as brush nears   &   lids finally flutter shut.        ❛❛      be careful,   will you?   i hardly want to have to start over.      ❜❜