@dweomerr : 🌿🍒 from lei !!!
The gardens remain the same, she envisioned it plenty of times, the wisteria tree that droplets a curtain of violet. A never ending sea of flora, the very air is stained with the smell of roses, frostbitten - they won’t return till the sun begins to arise. Friends, the Kobayashi family always coos, the more alliances the better. She knew it to be deception, a clever ploy concocted in haste, sugar is easier to swallow than the very poison they would feed their enemies. Beauteous figures that could not be true, a figment of the confine of one’s wildest dreams, in garments of yellow && hues of red, they move in synch entertaining the likes. Nobles would never know the true intent of their kind smiles && coy remarks, to dig deep within the cavern of their hearts, then eat the appendage without a shred of mercy. The petite ghost moves, creeping through the lacquered halls of stain glass, a goblet in hand as her nose wrinkles. “How many times have you been whisked away to dance?” she inquires, back straight, shoulders at ease - regal, poised to strike if she must. A plethora of plenty, never to want or desire, lest it be forbidden she would sarcastically remark. There was no lyre within her hand, neither lute, violin, or any other beloved instrument that caused her to sing with utmost joy. Hands that rest upon the hem of velvet black, abyssal as it glimmers in a sea of silver, humanly in facade she finds it odd.
Though, their blood beloved in posing as nothing more than waif-like beings, slender && graceful, who danced or clapped to the rhythm of the music each bard would entertain. She wondered how they would tire one day, stripping away this false sense of humanity, but another mask to be worn, a persona to adorn, lest the public understand there was nothing more precious to an assassin than secrecy. “Nothing truly changes, long before I left the city, it remained the same - none were the wiser to who we are, what we become, or what love dwells within our hearts. That was our strength but, perhaps I am becoming too soft in my passage of time, or this wiggler in our minds is starting to make me sentimental” she smirks, half hazard, lazy && cat-like. She wants to believe it is the wine that sparks a fire within her stomach, the clambering of laughter && hands that move together, it’s melancholic in her mind. A dreadfully dull bard, she thinks, always mournful.
“You should visit again when the Spring arrives, the gardens are far more beautiful” an abundance of life that she wonders would be possible to see? The unwinding journey that bestows them with hardship is full of uncertainty, yet, made her fearless amongst a den of vipers where she once trembled. There’s a pause as she leans against the entrance, sudden whispers && sharp grins, then, her eyes direct upwards - a snicker escaping. “Oh, now that’s clever” sing-song in her voice, she suddenly reaches forth, taking the other’s hand into her own. “Excuse me, love, this will only be a second” it comes quickly, a gust of electricity that smells like orange blossoms, vanilla && molten sugar. Crimson, a lady that twirls in the decadence of pastels cloaks herself in night amongst wolves. There, a flash of infernal green, was it her sharp fangs && claws that show? Peaking behind the illusion of flesh she giggles into the kiss before pulling away. Though, her grasp never lets go, “My dear ~” saccharine sweet, Nightingale coos delightfully. Her hand twirls to motion a circular movement, spin, she urges.
“Come, you’ll be my dance partner && I am unwilling to share! Don’t fret, I’ll try to go easy on you”
// yule festivities! (accepting.)
