#dracourge

[spiderwarden]

"Stomp on his tail!" She declares loudly from her side of the camp.

[hellscaress-a]

@dracourge inquired: " That last song. Can you play it again? " He flips a gold piece in her direction.

❝ oh? ❞ the bard twirls around, shining tangerine curls bouncing upon her plum sleeved shoulders. a taut smile initially greeting the dragonborn when she gazes upwards. he was quite tall. burly. magnificent. then again, she had never been this close to one before. most of them happened to scare her. but this one . . he had a comforting voice. a nice voice. and he did give her money.

❝ of course. ❞

she bends quickly but carefully to retrieve her lyre, plectrum held in her right hand, her left with its thumb and three fingers in place to pluck the strings. her timbre is dulcet; soothing and euphonious as its carried into the breeze.

❝ closely rhymed with a kiss; and the tongue in between makes a hiss. the world around is set ablaze, stuck together in this sweltering maze. . . to wish upon the stars to stay a little longer, and hope for the moon to hold in a little more fonder~ ❞

[knivesong]

@dracourge ♥'d

It felt like they've been at camp for hours at this point - though Annie suspected it had only been half of that time. The bard had been deftly twirling her favorite dagger nimbly between lithe fingers, half listening to the murmured conversations around her. Her mind had been elsewhere - namely to the fight that had left her with pretty purple bruises that bloomed angrily across her ribs and cheek.

She perked up immediately, however, when a certain stabby companion had joined her near the fire. She'd been keen to strike up conversation since joining their party, but life had a way of, well, getting in the way.

❝ So... don't take this weird but, uh... you're very pretty. To look at. Aesthetically pleasing, if you would. ❞

[eraba-reta-unmei]

“ … We truly live in a society. “

@deathfavor @dracourge

[vvasilisa]

"If you would indulge my curiosity, what is the meaning behind your paint? Does it represent something? Someone?"

curiosity often slains the cat, that's how the story goes: a single yet swift drop, like a waterlogged corpse breaking through the surface of a still seahead. yes, a deadly region to poke & prod where dirty little fingers do not belong ―― they are digging into skin, no, beneath the skin, digging into the hallow gaps of marrow ―that ivory husk that stirs with horror, terror etched into the pitted walls that bubble against blood - ah, curiosity will rot you entirely― a budding rot that now takes shape, a shape so cruel - curiosity, she is cruel ― but in this case, the cat takes its name & eats her whole―& swat at the tail ―― temping a new found-forged curiosity.

& she blooms like posies in the winter's harshest storm, it is true, it is the most beautiful thing to witness, but it is meant to die / wither away against the cold's breath. how it eats at the soil, gasping for warmth - for purpose. HOLDING ON. WAITING. SLIPPING AWAY & before long, it will die ― DIE ― DIE ――― DIE AGAIN & AGAIN & AGAIN & AGAIN & AGAIN&AGAAAAINAGAINAGAINNNNAGAINNN―breathe.

curiosity, is it worth it?

it never has been for you.

' a dangerous thing, curiosity. but- ' you lose your words as swiftly as they come [collect them]― you lose yourself again. hm. & you bite at nails, you bite anxiously at uneven grooves, how fast you become stales― your nerves are set afire, they ache & twist like buried roots; coiling over anatomy, coiling within your thin veins. & the futtering of a cage / your heart gives you away. this simple query has now soured your stomach, & you have yet to even ponder it ― yet to even dare. so don't ponder too long.

' someone. ' someone. yes. someone. someone that was held once, held so near, so dear ― long ago, held within your fingers / hands that felt more than flesh ― you know her― her name― her eyes, & her shapes & forms. the freckles that matched the skies, the stars that only dreamed to be so bright. & most of all, so so so so often, the shallow grave you find her in ― the cycle, it repeats. rebirth, reunion, death ― repeat. [is she even alive now?] ' someone i loved. ' loved? [as in no longer? or till you find her again. how do you weigh love? a heartbeat? a body? what is it?]

the pigment of hues, they once meant love / life, the sweet reds of roses & hair, lips & cherries ―――now, visceral rust / gore / war-stuck limbs, it sticks to a brush like honey, seeping into the teeth / clogging your instrument with cruor. each stroke made, it is full of sorrows / full of nothingness ― nothing is the same. that passion that stirs a gullet, it is smothering up your throat. a thick & hot ash coats airways [your other muse doesn't deserves notice.] for now, you bury her deep inside that chest / hide her away / hide her far from eyes.

' or rather, they once were for someone. ' yes. once. now you paint without refinement, a crude imagery - how many restless nights are accounted for? this image, horrors one could not even comprehend. these horrors, recite your sorrows, little artist, recite them to canvas ― like skin, you draw over such tender texture / yanking / stretching / pulling till it fits your frame [reorganize your bones, they need a nicer shape.] splatter colour onto it [ripe out your organs, a pretty vermilion will suit it well.] all you have. is art. & art, it is a process of giving, & giving, give till you are no more. else, what would be left of you? the husk of a woman? [ an unused paint] a husk & no art at that. ' maybe that's why i have not painted in months. '

&, & you could sit & ponder this for many lifetimes, more than maybe even you have. ' it's sad. now, i feel it lacks any meaning. truly, how should an artist cope when they have lost their muse? ' you don't. ' hm - no matter, i hope that satisfied your curiosity ― '

〈 *   &. RANDOM.  -/-  @dracourge

[waywardsculs-a2]

@dracourge : "Such scornful words from a celestial being. Refreshing."

" Can you blame me ? He's a braggart , misogynist prick that prefers to sit back and watch while we do all the work , but talks so much shit you'd think he forgot which end of his own body was his arse . I can't stand him . "

[hexxbound]

"Rumor has it you take a great time and effort to keep your skin pure and your clothes fresh and proper."

"I bathe. I keep things in check-- I am a damned Lord and Archduke, one does not reach such a height by half-assing themselves!"

[ruinoussarchive]

@dracourge continued from here (x)

His response genuinely caught her off guard. He was the first in a long, long time to appear interested rather dismissive in one of her unsavory confessions. And the thought of meeting someone who might accept this dark, and typically restrained, part of her was thrilling. Her heart rate elevated with her new excitement as she opened a bit of her mind to allow him in.

"I'd say all of the above except for taste but that's still too vague," she replied with the smallest hint of a smirk.

“If you think about it — bitter thoughts and words bloom from a bitter feelin' so I feel they go hand in hand. Though, I suppose I should admit it's not so much bitterness that I savor but the euphoric satisfaction that comes from acting out on that bitterness. For example: you have an opponent who somehow always seems to come out on top despite how hard you train, fight, or plan. That bitter resentment takes seed in your chest and slowly begins to consume you."

Her eyes closed for a moment, feeling the all too familiar sensation take hold. It began as a tightness in her chest that soon ignited into a flame that would eventually transform into a raging inferno that coursed through her veins and burned away the rose-tinted glasses the world tried to hide behind. There's little left besides that untameable wildfire and that's what changes the tides. Faye opened her eyes, smiling to herself now.

"But then the day comes your opponent becomes lazy and cocky, believin' there's no way you could beat them. It's their downfall and you can see it in their eyes. First, they become determined to prevent you from winnin' but there's an underlyin' panic that settles in their heart like the icy caress of death. And it's no match for your fire. It typically doesn't take long for that determination to turn into unbridled fear. Their life is in your hands and there's a tangible shift of power that sends you on a high that's hard to beat."