#erromes

[nilirae]

                 ‵   thy mother hears  T̥̎H̗͇͊̀I̙̰͌͆NĖ̦ P̲̉R͙̄͗͢Á̱Y̩͖̾̉Ë̪̤́̂Ŗ͈͗͋S  at last  ,  child  .                                       &&  thus now i offer thee sanctuary  &&  peace  .  ‵  

                                                @erromes​          starter call  [  JENOVA  ]

[ipraygreywords]

//Get well soon @erromes!!!! Here is Nahia and her papa :3 

[fearsewn]

“i really liked your class, dr. crane.” the truth is, nahia is terrified of him now, more terrified than the day she met him. she’s seen how she is with students who don’t come prepared, and the entire class she was already struggling to comprehend english, let alone scientific english. still, it would’ve been rude not to thank him when it was finished. “i never eh. i never finished secondary school, so i am a bit eh. out of depth, you know? is that how you say it?” //erromes

Jonathan has been staring out the high lecture hall windows at the rain for several moments since class dismissed, and the inevitable line of students with questions and requests–some of whom graciously indulged, others sharply reprimanded–was seen to. 

An ordinary person would, therefore, jolt at the sudden sound of a woman’s voice in an “empty” chamber. But the psychiatrist only turns with an expression of … . something like bored melancholy.

      “Hm? Ah, Miss Spaniard.  You came.” 

The continued nickname is a nod to Nahia’s safety within his scope, both from intellectual humiliation, and from literal danger.  He registers her compliments well after the fact, turning with the oddest mixture of languidness and precision, to face her.  

      “Thank you,” is his one taciturn remark, as he strides back to his podium and begins to tidy his books, his notes, and his laptop.  

She continues speaking, and he realizes with tired dismay that this means he must further socialize.  He strives to do so, by way of advice. 

     “Welllll, if you wanted to officially sign up for a course audit, then you could also petition Student Services for a notetaker, or a translator.  Or record my lectures on a device.  You have many options at your disposal.  I am glad, in any case, that you have a passion for the study of the mind. It is a powerful and charismatic thing.”  

[faemoria-arch]

@erromes​ ||  continued from this

           A pause , and then a small scoff of laughter , distinctly lacking in humor . Toothiana takes a deep breath , stifling her frustration from personal experience best she can , and states with thinly veiled contempt .

    ❛  When humans fear the power of something they turn it into a monster . Even each other . Especially each other . It makes the means to their ends all the more easy to justify .  ❜            Toothiana casts her gaze upward , to moonlight filtering through the clouds . She closes her eyes , and continues as though reciting passage from scripture .     ❛  Thus , for her unwillingness to submit to Adam , was Lilith demonized against the sanctity of Eve by man until her existence could all but be erased from record . Now then , is Eve demonized against the sanctity of Mary for her ability to tempt man away from the path of their god . So too , perhaps , will Mary one day be set upon by men for the connection to divinity that they can never hope to achieve .   ❜           Amethyst reveals itself slowly and adjusts to the light once again . The faequeen lowers her head as well , but remains staring forward at the empty space on the horizon , rather than turn to face the girl directly .

   ❛  So you are correct , Nahia . She would not .  ❜

[vaguelyxdownwards]

@erromes

Despite being a demon, Anthony Crowley isn’t one to liberally curse.

However, for the past 45 minutes, a steady stream of oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, FUCK, has coursed through his brain, while the powerful astral signature of a saint has followed him.   He feels the corners of his mind sizzling, the way his electively human corporeal form might were he to tread on hallowed ground. Oosh, it itches, like a canker sore, and it grows ever nearer. 

Tall girl, slender, olive-complexed, with a long face, like her features forgot to stop when they started, like it’s meant to guilt the ne’er-do-wells of society by serving as the visual equivalent of Oliver Twist asking for more porridge.  Whoo-whee. That’s gotta be her.  

Crowley tries to avoid her rapid approach, but he’s boxed in by the hideous blight on existence known as after-work crowds.  And before he knows it, his long gangly form is shoved up against hers.  

    “Um,” is Eden’s Serpent’s clever greeting.  

[questionsofmoraliitya]

|| @erromes / cont.

  He doesn’t answer. If his heightened senses have shown him anything, it’s not nothing is ever really silent, and not speaking sometimes says it all. Matt squeezes once, extra tight, exhales, then releases her.

     “Are you busy?” 

[patroklxs]

@erromes​

   “In a lot of ways the dog is the hero of this story, it seems like.”

[swcrdiisms-blog]

      he’s struck by her presence. or rather, by the uncertainty of her       presence. there are few creatures that he cannot identify, after all       his hundreds of thousands of years of life, and when he comes       across those that he can’t, it makes him... nervous. ❝ pardon the       intrusion, miss, but what are you? ❞

@erromes  ♥’d for a starter